Summary

The web content discusses the commodification of music and its impact on culture and society, particularly during the 1990s.

Abstract

The article titled "The Man Who Sold the World" reflects on the transformation of the music industry from the early 1990s, emphasizing how technology-driven data collection shifted power dynamics, allowing independent genres to gain recognition. It delves into the cultural and economic shifts of the era, highlighting how the music of artists like Nine Inch Nails, Erykah Badu, and Rage Against the Machine encapsulated the discontent of Generation X. The text criticizes the corporate takeover of music, the subsequent homogenization of sound, and the commodification of subcultures, which led to a loss of individuality and the devaluation of music's emotional and historical significance. It suggests that the capitalist extremism of the time survives only through societal blind faith and that a return to authenticity and communal values could provide an escape from the cycle of consumption and emptiness.

Opinions

The author believes that the true value of music is compromised when it is treated as a commodity, leading to a loss of meaningful value and emotional resonance.
There is a critique of the music industry's shift towards data-driven decisions, which prioritize profit over artistic integrity and lead to a uniform sound devoid of inspiration.
The text expresses that the 1990s were characterized by a rebellion against corporate control, with music serving as a voice for the disenfranchised and a reflection of societal unrest.
The article suggests that the commercialization of alternative culture has resulted in a mainstream conformity that undermines the unique messages and unity that once defined genres like hip-hop and grunge.
It is argued that the commodification of music and culture perpetuates a cycle of consumerism that alienates individuals from their authentic selves and community.
The author posits that the persistence of extreme capitalism is contingent upon the collective belief in its promised benefits, which often fail to materialize, and that rejecting this system could lead to a more natural and fulfilling way of life.

The Man Who Sold the World

All in all, is all we are and all we are is a commodity. When everything has a price, nothing has meaningful value.

“If one should desire to know whether a kingdom is well governed, if its morals are good or bad, the quality of its music will furnish the answer.”― Confucius

Corporate entertainment’s purchasing power decided music’s popularity, but in 1991 technology revolutionized the industry. Collecting and compiling accurate consumer data revealed the public’s preferences, and for the first time, independent genres were pulled from the underground and exposed in board meeting’s weekly sales reports. The authentic sounds organically produced a growing fan base, and music executives noticed. Within a year, the mainstream consumed the alternative, and musical protests became a fashionable trend.

Eighties’ pseudo-culture portrayed happy Americans, catchy tunes, bright colors, and nationalistic morals, but it was a façade. The homogeneous decade was depressing, and it manifested in the poignant songs of the marginalized. Political and economic animosity, disempowerment, alienation, frustration, inequality, and repression were the undertones of Nine Inch Nails, Erykah Badu, Marilyn Manson, N.W.A., Lauryn Hill, the Coup, PJ Harvey, Arrested Development, the Brian Johnstown Massacre, the Pharcyde, and many more.

But I’m getting used to this demo abuse Getting raped and giving birth to a tape Cause there’s no escape from the clutches of a hawker Attached to my success, sent like a stalker Ring, Ring, Ring, De La Soul, 1991

Music is the emotional history of an era, and the nineties are the sounds of a distressed generation’s revolt. Gen X witnessed the end of the people’s economy to winner-takes-everything-they-want while the losers pay for it, and we knew who lost. Media and labels cashed in on grief, anger, violence, addiction, and multi-million dollar companies acquired independent broadcasting. Monopolies controlled the venues, studios, distribution, promotion, ticketing, and media outlets.

Alternative culture opposed the corporate-controlled industry and filed antitrust lawsuits, but not even the US’ most popular band could beat the corporate labels. The entertainment industry punished the counterculture’s defiance by silencing them, but musicians need an audience, and appreciators need music. The show must go on, and there are plenty of performers.

By the mid-nineties, free-market, trickle-down ideologies were certified as the dominant discourse. Outsourcing American-made products, jobs, and manufacturing plants had immediate effects. Labor unions dissolved, public programs cut, and civic engagement declined. Businesses commodified basic needs, journalism, education, labor, culture, emotions, and any glimmer of hope while the market decides the value.

Now you do what they told ya And now you do what they told ya, now you’re under control Killing in the Name of, Rage Against the Machine, 1992

In search of the next big hit, corporate labels scoured the underground and signed everyone and every trend. Record deals infiltrated the alternative culture, and major companies composed the sounds of the nineties. Independent music segued to boy bands, popstars, and glam rap before our ears. The sounds please everyone yet inspire no one, but they offer economies of scale. Musicians adapted to the system to produce quality music, but quantity or quantities of quality sold measure creativity.

Businesses commercialized independent music for general consumption, and everything sounds the same because it is the same. Music analytics precisely predicting the top-selling artists and genres enables labels to invest in artists generating similar sounds. Standardized, factory-made uniformity is the soundtrack of our life, and data collection produced a globally unimaginative, indistinguishable, utilitarian monoculture. Singer and songwriter Linda Perry describes the mundane perfectly:

“I’ve just been really bored. If I hear another label tell me that they need a song for the radio I’m going to poke out their eyeballs with a fork. Nobody I work with wants anything out of left field. They just want to keep following the same game plan.”

Companies and the media exploit people, but the consumers endorse it. Autonomy dangled on the edge of a precipice, and we willingly threw ourselves in a bottomless pit. Americans exchange intellect, individuality, and self-worth for the fantasy wealth is fulfilling and achievable. Quantity over quality trickles through society, and materials, jobs, wealth, and brands provide personality. Our national anthem is a single chorus; freedom is consumerism, and materialism is a civil right.

Cash Rules Everything Around Me. C.R.E.A.M., get the money. Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. — Wu-Tang Clan, 1993

Cobain’s thrift store, hand-me-down, multiple layered clothing wasn’t a statement. He was broke, and Seattle is cold, but fashion designers seized the opportunity to capitalize off his popularity, and we bought it: Cobain, the fashion icon. At least poor kids wearing second-hand clothes were just as stylish as the wealthier kids. Eventually, the demand for name-brand, designer, and grunge fashion differentiated social classes and identities.

I’m sick of that fake thug, R&B-rap scenario, all day on the radio Same scenes in the video, monotonous material Y’all don’t here me though These record labels slang our tapes like dope You can be next in line and signed and still be writing rhymes and broke You would rather have a Lexus or justice, a dream or some substance? A Beamer, a necklace, or freedom Hip-Hop, dead prez, 2000

The commercialization of the alternative culture depreciated its value. We lost individuality yet became lonely, mainstream individuals. Nineties hip-hop and grunge generated their unique sounds, but they produced a united message. We were fighting the same battles against the same enemy. Now, we’re competing against each other because a price tag decides our identity, and wealth distinguishes us.

While corporations commodify subcultures, consumers make them a cliché, but the fear of missing out is terrifying. We buy advertisements selling any trendy image because we want to fit in and feel good — even if it’s brief. Purchasing feelings and appropriating identity because we have no idea who we are or what we need. Consumption won’t fill the emptiness, and we know it, but we can’t imagine anything else. Life is working to consume, and living is Monday morning office chats.

There is an escape, but there’s only one way out. Capitalism extremism survives because we believe in it. When enough of us stop blindly trusting the advertised benefits that never materialize, it drowns in a sea of worthless objects. The capitalism we’re enduring is unnatural, and it can’t function in a natural environment. We have to act selfishly and distrust society for it to thrive. It’s exhausting, yet we continually ignore our naturally collective and socially connected instincts.

He says “if you send me lots of cash I’ll send you Stuff to make you rich fast” And it’s burning down And it’s called the U.S of A. Dear Mr. President, 4 Non Blondes, 1992

Money doesn’t make music — appreciators and musicians do, but the commodification of music has severed its authenticity. Nothing has any real significance when it’s for a price.