THE history of pop is littered with bad pop lyrics. That's fine. Great. La de da (literally). Some have been pompous (exhibit A: Jim Morrisson's "we live, we die, and death not ends it"), others inane: (exhibit B: "your boyfriend he went down on one knee, could it be he's only got one knee?" by Morrissey, of all people). On the other hand imagine how much poorer Astral Weeks would be if its lyrics were not so beautiful. It's healthy for pop to throw up howlers and beauties, but look through last year's crop and you'll find neither. And that's the tragedy. Lyrics have become a complete irrelevance to the worth we place on a song.
It is extraordinary that an element so fundamental to the essence of a pop song should have fallen into such a sorry state during the guitar pop explosion of recent years. Of the major recording artists of the last three years, only Pulp have reached any level of competence. Oasis seem to pride themselves upon being barely able to read. Blur get no further than rhyming "Balzac" with "prozac" before collapsing in laughter at their own genius. Even artists such as Suede and Nick Cave produced records that were no more than lyrically adequate in 1996.
Part of the reason for the dearth of talent is that any young band trying a bit of excess wordsmithery is instantly labelled "The New Smiths". And part of the reason is that the increasing acceptance of electronic music into pop has shifted emphasis from words to sounds. Records of little lyrical merit are lauded, and food lyricists seem to be out of fashion.
CONSIDER last year. The "most praised" records were those such as Everything Must Go and 1977. That these should be so excessively lauded is symptomatic of our time. Manic Street Preachers masquerade behind a mask of that most destructive of pop vices sophistication. The disappearance of Richie Edwards has seemingly placed them beyond criticism despite their complete ordinariness and inanities like "shed some skin for the fear within." This sort of pseudery is of no use to anybody and merely reduces pop to a babble. Ash merely cry "it was the start of the summer" for superannuated rock hacks to try and remember what youth was like. It is high time that somebody reminded us that these bands, and many like them, are worse than those who have preceded them and are best ignored. Place them beside Mark Eitzel's 60 Watt Silver Lining, which sunk without trace in 1996 despite containing more evocative lines than either of these, and there is no clearer measure of today's fashions.
Records can seemingly be praised for being retro Beatles, retro Phil Specturretro disco, or for making innovative noises, at the expense of lyrical content. How ironic that last year's most profound work attracted attention not for its perfect lyrics, but for its grandiose soundscapes. For in praising The Divine Comedy's Casanova for its orchestral palette and whimsical pastiches, everybody overlooked that its lyrics did everything good pop should they swung from humour to wisdom, they were clever, incisive and, above all, valuable.
Pop music gains its power from being instantly evocative, often at the expense of subtlety. It is theoretically possible to write a song like The Boys Are Back In Town which needs good lyrics about as much as a chicken tandoori needs a dash of pepper, but usually the essential extra layer can only be provided by a lyric. A lyric is not poetry, it is not literature, it is an intrinsic part of a song. R.E.M.'s simple songs are turned into masterpieces by Michael Stipe's evocative words. But if they had written Everybody Hurts last year, nobody would have noticed.
An album must be meticulous in every element of its music, yet too many today satisfy themselves with lyrics that are haphazard, slapdash and substandard. Last year puns passed for wit, eastern mumblings for insight and long words for mood. Deafened by a pretty sound, we accept them as good enough. There is already quite enough popular music, and it is only those who can fuse lyrics and sounds to capture today's mood that are worth any more than the greats of the past. There are people today writing lyrics as good as Van Morrison and Morrissey, we just seem to ignore them.
The history of pop is littered with bad pop lyrics, but that's no reason for us not to demand better than what was served up in 1996. It's time to be a bit more discerning about what comes from the mouths of pop stars.
