But thinking about this rather standard topic led me to think of something perhaps a bit more unusual. Namely, is there a history of nostalgia? We, 'now', are familiar with the idea that nostalgia is a large part of pop experience, eg: memories of hearing some old flexi-disc for the first time in 1987, or dance music folks reminiscing about summer 1988, or 80s tribute programmes evoking our childhood feelings for Adam Ant. But *what if the past was nostalgic too?* When did pop nostalgia begin? Were there (let's say) kids who were 16 in 1956, and 19 in 1959, who looked back from 1959 to a sunkissed experience of Elvis on the radio in 1956 in much the same way as B&S fans now talk wistfully of their early experiences with Tigermilk? Is that an ahistorical view (of the 1950s), or conversely, is our (my?) usual flattened image of the 1950s inadequate for thinking of it as all Youth and Excitement and Buzz, without the internal differentiation and complexity of our feelings about pop today?
So this is partly an attempt at a question about cultural history - about our attitude to the past, and whether we should think more in terms of its alterity or of what we share with it. And about whether a 'history of culture' (here, pop culture) also needs to be a 'history of feeling'.
― the pinefox, Wednesday, 14 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― David, Wednesday, 14 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
The sheer immediacy of rock music in the 1950s -- no canonization, no institutionalization, it being purchased and digested almost exclusively in 45 rpm format, and the assumption by those that sold it that it was totally disposable -- makes the example apropos. (The use of Elvis and B&S-era Tigermilk are interesting, as well. Elvis' appeal was so collective -- he was something that everyone agreed upon -- and B&S's appeal at that point was, in part, due to exclusivity.)
Certainly there would be warm memories of Elvis circa 1956 in '59, but rock was so new; there was (luckily for them) no linear timeline, no canonization to accept or deny, and, I'd doubt, virtually no serious discourse about rock music (unless "It's got a good beat, and you can dance to it. I give it a 75, Dick." counts). Which isn't to say that there needs to be shared experience to elicit feelings of nostalgia, but there does have to be a certain disappointment with the present (again, Belle and Sebastian was an excellent example) that is often compounded when it is shared with others. That type of context may not have developed by 1959.
When pop nostalgia began is another matter. The first obvious example that springs to mind is the "rockers" half of any mods vs. rockers hulabaloo, but again that's collective nostalgia.
― Scott Plagenhoef, Wednesday, 14 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Mark Richardson, Wednesday, 14 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Robin Carmody, Wednesday, 14 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
I also found myself thinking about records that articulate pop nostalgia - which would only be circumstantial evidence here, for the absence of such records would not at all prove that it wasn't happening Out There Among The Kids. I thought of two cases.
1. Would the Beach Boys be an early instance of pop nostalgia - in the sense of 'I remember last summer / the surf was high and the music was cool', etc? Needless to say I am making those lyrics up, cos I don't know their work as well as you folks do. I'm just wondering when the BBs first articulated such a sentiment.
2. The (to me) very moving early Dylan song 'Bob Dylan's Dream', as early as 1963, recounts a memory ('While riding on a train going West...') of memory - of a time when Bob (or the narrator, anyway) was young and hung out with good pals. Nostalgia for sure, though maybe not specifically pop-based.
Listeners unfamiliar with this song should probably ask Uncle Tom Ewing about it.
― the pinefox, Friday, 16 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Robin Carmody, Monday, 19 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― the pinefox, Tuesday, 20 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
FWIW I think Pet Sounds is a very good album which has nevertheless been overrated by many. My comment on nostalgia and yearning for days gone by was inspired by the sad, rueful melancholia throughout that album, which I think is absolutely fucking obvious if you *do* know it - it contains a song called "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times" for God's sake, many of the lyrics are looking back sentimentally to 1950s Californian adolescence, a world already vanishing in 1966, and the band's confused and baffled response to profound changes in youth culture was just round the corner. "Caroline No" especially is a lament for innocence lost which, for the most determinedly forward-thinking, is easy to be affected by but much harder to love.
Most of what I've said is boringly canonical, actually - Ian MacDonald and David Stubbs both said it in Uncut within a few months in 1999. But I admire you, Pinefox, for your resistence to such accepted ideas. We could do with more like you.
― Robin Carmody, Wednesday, 21 March 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
I take it that 13 is the age of the narrator / addressee. And I have come to think that they are 13 in, say, 1966 (? hence 'Paint It, Black'). So the song seems to be miming, affectionately performing, a pop / youth attitude / experience (innocence) of a few years gone by.
It has got me thinking about that mode: the affectionate rendering of pop innocence. I have come to realize that this is a mode to which a lot of my own work has belonged. And I am wondering (again) whether the mode started around the time of the Big Star song (whenever that was exactly: 1970? I am not sure I have ever heard Big Star).
― the bellefox, Tuesday, 8 June 2004 10:47 (twenty years ago)
― aimurchie, Tuesday, 8 June 2004 16:42 (twenty years ago)