To say that there is no longer good music being made is both naive and false, perhaps more a reflection of the speaker than of the modern music scene itself. Just as in any other time period, there exists a plethora of exciting, engaging, intelligent new musicians and song crafters. What is true about today, however, is that it does seem to be more difficult to find said artists. Record companies are in shambles, independent radio, while making a comeback, is a fraction of the size of its former self and there are just so many bands. To be sure, good music still exists, it’s just much harder to find.
One main reason for that is that you have to wade through so many aural wasteland albums, the epitome of such being OneRepublic’s Native. To be quite honest, I could not believe this was not a joke; it categorically embodies everything that is wrong with American popular music today. It employs every single element that makes me turn off the radio in disgust; soaring, synthesized melodies, uninspired, immature, boring lyrics, all put together in a package so overproduced that it absolutely kills any emotional connection a listener might hope to establish.
It’s ironic that the band makes such use of animals and Western imagery, in both the cover art and the video for the single “If I Lose Myself,” yet all that the mythos of ‘The West’ traditionally invokes; freedom, simplicity, fierceness, primitive instinct, a sort of purity, is not only absent from the music, it is the antithesis of everything that is present! The sound is so manipulated, so manufactured, so ‘enhanced’ that it has no soul. Pop records are usually written for the lowest common denominator, that’s what they are, but OneRepublic manages to take it a step further. This actually falls below the common denominator. All the humanity has been removed, leaving us to hear only how an artificial entity interprets human emotion, rather than actual shared human feeling.
Nearly all of the record is one continuous, boring song. (At around 4 minutes, every song is far too long. Anything a song was trying to say, it said in half that time.) An entirely contrived formula of tempo changes accentuates the sameness, exposing one of two patterns: slow-fast-slow, or fast-slow-fast. There is no difference whatsoever in the music of “If I Lose Myself” and “Can’t Stop” though one chronicles positive interpersonal connections and the other follows a breakup. Emotionally at opposite ends of the spectrum, here they are presented over the same throbbing, heavy pulse and swelling synth buildups, doing both subject matters a disservice.
I know this is a pop record. It’s not purporting to make any intricate or insightful comment on society or culture, I understand that fact. However, by nature of its very existence, a statement is made, intended or not. This is a celebration of the gaudy, a forsaking of substance in favor of the shiniest bells and the flashiest whistles. In short, this is precisely what is wrong with music.
