all this time...

in which [the royal] we discuss the relevance of older artists.

 

So, Sting released a new album today. I honestly have no clue how well it is going to do, nor do I really care. I mean, I guess the dude has enough money, and probably has enough fame at this point. Given what emotions come through in his songs, I figure that probably part of the reason why he’s still writing, recording and releasing songs is for art. Or joy. Or love. Or something. Whatever that thing is, it works for me.

I mean, it worked for me when he was younger, cockier, and more of a jackass. I’ve always loved his stuff. Grew up on it. We’re talking more than three decades of having Sting in one form or another in constant rotation with all my other music.

The only other artists that I’ve had on constant rotation are Michael Jackson and Bruce Springsteen. And I don’t listen to them nearly as frequently as I do Sting. For instance, I have every single one of Sting’s albums on my phone, for daily listening, but only three songs from MJ and Bruce…

Anyway. I mentioned Sting’s new album to a coworker, who mind you, is older than I am, and her first response was to ask “Is he still relevant?”

She brought up Rod Stewart, who she mentioned had released an album earlier this year. I had to fact check this statement, and apparently he did release an album of original material in May. (It didn’t do well in the US as far as I can tell, but went to the top of the charts in the UK.) She spent some time reminiscing about Rod during the 70s and 80s, and then again in the Aughts, and how hot he’d been back then.

Which raised a lot of questions for me. 

Does it matter if musicians are making music just because they can? Or to appease diehard fans? Or to hold on to past glory? Or to please themselves? Or to pay their kids’ college tuition bills? For nostalgia’s sake? 

Why would we care if that’s all they were doing?

Does it fucking matter if an artist is still relevant? If somebody, somewhere, gets enjoyment out of art, sees the beauty in it, and it somehow adds to their existence, doesn’t that negate any questions of relevancy?

What does it matter if the only person in the world who is listening to Rod Stewart is some 60-something cat hoarder living on the dole in Great Britain who pops on his record to masturbate to while fantasizing about his lithesome 1970s era bod? (or, his not so lithesome 2013 one…)

Or that Sting releases some song that has a ridiculously complicated time signature that only certain math/music geeks understand? (or jerk off to. fine. whatever)

This is a large part of why I try not to slag on musicians (or artists of any sort.) I’m not going to emotionally connect with Miley Cyrus making out with a sledgehammer (Ke$ha making out with unicorns is way more my speed), but obviously millions of other people are, so who am I to judge them for their tastes in art? It’s doing something for someone somewhere.*

(Although, I may be somewhat disturbed by what it says about our culture that watching Miley simulate sex with a wrecking ball has garnered 149,000,000 views on YouTube, but whatever. I mean, I watched it. Once. I guess it is kinda like a car wreck.)

Yeah. I still love Sting’s music. So what?

*Please note that this attitude does not so much extend to genocide, cannibalism, Yoko Ono’s recordings, and other things that cause harm to any living being.

Randomesque Side Note: I once had the opportunity to meet Sting, and I declined, because I was afraid that he’d be a total asshole (I think he was still in his jackass phase) and I didn’t want his shitty behavior to ruin my love of his music. That particular modus operandi still stands for most of the musicians I deeply admire. (i.e. stay the fuck away)