Friday, February 7, 2025

Adorno Is Right... And Wrong

 We're all way too familiar with Theodor "Fun Sponge" Adorno (pictured right) at this point. According to His Eminence, if we're not listening to six-part Bach Inventions on our morning commute we are mindless drones enslaved to the sinister culture industry. Clearly, Adorno is just another old guy with a distaste for new ideas. Unfortunately, I don't think this is entirely true. 

Adorno argues that popular music is a low-class jumble of recycled, generic material. To him, all popular music is made from a standardized mold hat makes it digestible to a fault. The listener doesn't need to exert any effort to enjoy a popular music composition. He says, 

"The composition hears for the listener. This is how popular music divests the listener of his spontaneity and promotes conditioned reflexes. Not only docs it not require his effort to follow its concrete stream; it actually gives him models under which anything concrete still remaining may be subsumed." 

I think Adorno makes some good arguments here. There have certainly been many times in my life that I heard a song on the radio that I considered absolutely lifeless. One example is this song by Ylvis called "What Does The Fox Say?" While this song certainly has some comedic value, it's not helping the listener improve themselves in any way. To Adorno, that is simply unacceptable. 


The example in the slides of the "Four-Chord Song" all but proves that certain chord progressions and styles of songwriting are replicated over and over again. I also believe that as streaming services become more prevalent, musicians are being encouraged to create shorter songs and albums. Audiences are being conditioned to expect and respond to a certain type of music. 

I don't want to pick on Adorno too much, because I think it takes a lot of guts to tell the whole world their taste in music sucks. However, I think Adorno is missing some key points about popular music. 

Firstly, I think his idea that edification is the only form of cultural value is just plain wrong. I believe there are many different types of cultural value, and entertainment value is a completely valid example. Even the "Fox Say" song has some educational value for a young child. Hopefully that's enough to satisfy Adorno's elitist views. 

Secondly, I think that the intricacies of music theory and music production are something that Adorno isn't factoring in. Many songs seem simple at first glance, but are actually made with great care and attention to detail. Consider "Pet Sounds" by The Beach Boys. While it might sound at surface level like a somewhat pop composition, Brian Wilson is actually challenging the listener by including lots of atypical sounds and harmonies. 


Finally, I think while it's true that some popular music is highly generic, there are other artists that operate far outside the norm, and are celebrated for doing so! I mentioned earlier how streaming services like Spotify are encouraging the streamlining of new music to make it more palatable to a large amount of people. The positive side of a large library of music is that there are many artists trying to differentiate themselves and break whatever formula the listener expects. Here's an example of a "weird" artist that have found a lot of success collaborating with Anderson .Paak and even performing on NPR's Tiny Desk series. 


I saw another student in this class write about Kendrick Lamar. The fact that Kendrick is winning over more traditional and formulaic is proof that in the proving ground of culture, drivel doesn't always win. I think it takes effort to make good art, and it takes effort to appreciate it. If humans weren't willing to put in that effort, then maybe Adorno would be 100% right. But he's not. 

Even the Notion That "There is Nothing New Under the Sun," Is Not New


         I recently went to see the film Heretic, which tells the story of two LDS (Mormon) missionary “Sisters,” Sophie Thatcher as Sister Barnes, and Chloe East as Sister Paxton, who knock on the wrong door of a sadistic atheist, Mr. Reed played by Hugh Grant. Bedlam ensues.

This is a horror flick, but it is an odd horror flick. It is very talky. The action and gore are punctuated and happen mostly at the end. So much of it is lecture and demonstration by Mr. Reed as he leads the young women into his house of horrors. But this sets up an enormous amount of tension, and the effect is riveting.

When the “Sisters" arrive at his door, he courteously invites them in. They respond that they are unable to enter unless his wife (or roommate) is present – as long as it is a woman. He assures them that his wife is in the kitchen happily (and shyly) baking a blueberry pie.

With that, the trap is set and the girls enter. They are immediately locked in, but they don’t know it yet.

They sit with Mr. Reed in the cozy but creepy living-room, where a candle glows softly on the coffee table. After several minutes of talking, they sweetly ask to meet Mr. Reed’s wife.

Mr. Reed disappears to fetch her, and the girls discover the candle is a ruse for the wife. It is blueberry scented and they have been duped. There is no baking. There is no wife.

They try to leave, but it is then that they discover that not only have they been lied to, they have been locked in the house. So they are forced to venture deeper into the lair.

Mr. Reed then uses his trap to make a point about the faith of these girls. There was no wife. That had become more and more apparent, but the girls went along with the notion that, at any moment, she would step into the room to join them.

They were told something and they believed it without question, even as the evidence against the thing that was told to them piled up. Might the same be true of their religious ideology? Is this something they had even pondered? He ensnared them and then used their ensnarement to build a metaphor that attacked their faith.

Interesting.

He leads them further into the house, and lectures them about the many, MANY iterations that occur in pop culture. He begins by playing the song, “The Air That I Breathe,” by The Hollies, and asks the girls if they have ever heard it before. They respond that other than hearing it a moment ago when he had played it, no they had never heard the song prior to this moment.

He disagrees. He tells them they absolutely have heard the song before. Then he begins to sing “Creep,” by Radiohead. Immediately, the audience can hear it. No wonder that was so familiar!

Mr. Reed then relates this to the story of Jesus Christ, and points to the many iterations of this figure and this story throughout different cultures at different times – the virgin birth, the sacrifice, the resurrection, etc. He notes that this is a regurgitated story. None of it is new to the man named Jesus. His story is not unique, it is a myth that has been assigned to many figures over millennia.

He further extrapolates to the three major Judeo-Christian faiths, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and highlights that these too, are iterations of each other.

Adorno suggests that “standardization” is a product of pop culture and the content it churns out. To a certain extent, I agree. Although, it might appear that this is more a facet of human creation as a whole, rather than just what is mass-produced by our popular culture.

As I am writing this, the well-known phrase, “There is nothing new under the sun,” pops to mind. I attribute this phrase to Shakespeare, and indeed he said something similar in Sonnet 59:

If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd,
Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss
The second burthen of a former child!

But first (or at least previously), this was stated in the Book of Ecclesiastes, “…there is no new thing under the sun,” long before Shakespeare was born.

How perfect that even the notion that “nothing is new” has been regurgitated for millennia.

And how very meta that a current pop culture artifact (Heretic) makes a point about the mythology of several religions being regurgitated, while the point itself, “There is nothing new under the sun,” has been churned out almost as often as iterations of the story of a “virgin birth.”

What do you think? Is regurgitation and standardization relegated to pop culture artifacts only? Or is this more a facet of human creation as a whole?

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

Billie Eilish’s Not My Responsibility: A Callout of Society’s Double Standards

  Billie Eilish’s Not My Responsibility is more than just a song. It’s a powerful micdrop aimed at society and the media’s obsession with women’s bodies. Eilish puts the spotlight on the exhausting and often contradictory expectations placed on women with raw vulnerability, challenging us to rethink why we’re so quick to judge others. The song feels deeply personal yet also universal, making space for something countless women face every day: the impossible task of living up to everyone’s standards.

Eilish lays it all out clearly, stating “if I wear what is comfortable, I am not a woman. If I shed the layers, I’m a slut” (Eilish, 2020). These lines hit hard, exposing the impossible double standard women are stuck with: damned if we do, damned if we don’t. It’s a clear critique of the patriarchal systems that base women’s value on their appearance. This isn’t just a problem Billie faces. This a problem infused in society and reinforced through everything from Instagram highlights to the way the media obsesses with what celebrities are wearing. 

What makes this piece so powerful is the way Eilish directly addresses those that are doing the judging by asking pointed questions. “Do you know me? Really know me?... Would you like me to be smaller, weaker, softer?... Do my shoulders provoke you? Does my chest?... The body I was born with, is it not what you wanted?” (Eilish, 2020). SHe forces listeners to confront their own complicity and place in this system. Take a listen. It may make you uncomfortable, but that’s the point. That’s what feminist perspectives are all about: “[focusing] on the taken-for-granted as "normal" roles and rules for men and women in society” (Sellnow, 2010, p. 139) and asking why they exist in the first place. 

Eilish’s message in this song aligns perfectly with radical feminist perspectives, “[revealing] how objectifying hegemonic beliefs and behaviors based on sex, gender, or sexual orientation are reinforced or challenged in some way” (Sellnow, 2010, p. 145). The patriarchal system we live in didn’t just happen by accident–it’s reinforced every time we reduce a woman’s worth to her looks or judge her for stepping outside of the box. Not my Responsibility is EIlish’s way of saying “Enough.”

At its core, this song asks an important question: why do we let other people define our value? It’s a question worth answering, whether you’re the one doing the judging, being judged, or both. Eilish doesn’t offer the answer, but she does start the conversation. Maybe the first step toward breaking free from expectations is asking, “Is my value based only on your perception? Or is your opinion of me not my responsibility?” (Eilish, 2020).


References: 

Eilish, B. (2020). Not my responsibility [Song]. On Happier Than Ever. Darkroom/Interscope Records. 

Sellnow, D. (2010). The rhetorical power of popular culture: Considering mediated texts. (pp. 139-168). Sage. 


Friday, January 10, 2025

The Influence of Pop Culture Marketing: The Disneyfication of Nostalgia

Pop culture is more than just entertainment- it's a system of everyday objects, events, and actions that shape how we think and act (Sellnow, 2010). Nostalgia is one of its most powerful tools, and companies like Disney expertly use it to drive profits. By tapping into beloved childhood memories, Disney encourages consumers to revisit familiar stories while subtly reinforcing ideas about the past. This "Disneyfication" of nostalgia shows just how pervasive and persuasive pop culture can be.

Disney’s marketing highlights how mediated pop culture influences us on many levels. Consider the live-action remakes of The Lion King (Favreau, 2019) and Beauty and the Beast (Condon, 2017). These films closely resemble their animated originals, but with updated elements designed to capture modern audiences. This approach creates a rhetorical
illusion of realism and intimacy, making viewers feel a stronger emotional connection. According to parasocial interaction theory, these perceived bonds with characters foster trust and familiarity (Sellnow, 2010). However, this emotional pull often prioritizes profit over creativity, as many remakes merely recycle old narratives rather than offer fresh reinterpretations.


Nostalgia-driven marketing has ethical implications because it shapes how we remember history. While pop culture feeds and preserves collective memory, it also presents sanitized versions of the past. Take Disney’s portrayal of princesses: newer films attempt to challenge outdated gender roles, but nostalgic marketing often highlights more traditional representations. As a result, symbolic meanings tied to these characters remain rooted in earlier, (sometimes problematic) cultural values. By repeatedly presenting these images, Disney reinforces accepted ideas about gender norms, possibly subtly influencing what society views as “normal” or “ideal.”

Nostalgia is more than just a feel-good trip down memory lane—it’s a site of cultural power. Disney’s dominant role in nostalgic media reflects its privileged position in defining “family-friendly” entertainment and shaping societal norms. Yet this power often goes unquestioned, perpetuating cycles of familiar narratives and values without critical engagement from the audience (us).

So, how do we become more mindful consumers of nostalgia-saturated media? Media literacy helps us question the messages we absorb. For instance, how do Disney’s remakes uphold or challenge traditional power dynamics? Are they reflections of genuine progress, or are they commodified versions of the past? If pop culture mirrors and molds society, recognizing its influence allows us to choose which beliefs to accept or challenge.

As nostalgia remains a dominant force in pop culture marketing, we must think critically about its impact. What fresh, innovative stories could emerge from breaking this cycle of recycled storytelling? How might this reflect a broader range of voices and experiences? Grappling with these questions empowers us to navigate the world of pop culture with greater awareness.


References: 

Favreau, J. (Director). (2019). The Lion King [Film]. Walt Disney Pictures.

Condon, B. (Director). (2017). Beauty and the Beast [Film]. Walt Disney Pictures.

Sellnow, D. (2010). The rhetorical power of popular culture: Considering mediated texts (pp. 1-25). Sage.