Who Says Avant-Garde Is Dead?

Postmodernism Hasn’t Killed It Yet

William Sundwick

When art critic Clement Greenberg wrote in 1939 that the opposite of avant-garde was kitsch, he was referring to the struggle then between artists who had a burning desire to be creative and the exigencies of the commercial art world focused mostly on advertising and consumer products. Kitsch was defined as mass-produced commercial design (as well as academic art burdened by excessive rules).  Avant-Garde was the modernist response seeking to protect true aesthetic value from such crass commercialism. “True aesthetic value” itself was a modernist, absolutist, concept -- coinciding nicely with radical social philosophy.  Like Marxism, this aesthetic was characterized by a scientific determinism.

But Greenberg was far from the first to use the term “avant-garde.” It’s origins in the art world date from 1825 in France. It was used in an essay by a follower of Saint-Simonianism (the philosophical underpinning of a new aesthetic for the industrial revolution). The arts were to be the “advance guard” (French military usage) for the people, leading the way toward massive structural reform of society. Notable followers of Saint-Simonianism in Europe included the composers Hector Berlioz and Franz Liszt.

The next generation of the avant-garde reached its climax with artist Gustave Courbet, who extolled the destruction of the Vendome column during the Paris Commune of 1871. Courbet saw this as a revolutionary act, toppling a symbol of an imperial aesthetic (it was a monument to Napoleon at Austerlitz), to be replaced by a proletarian art with “true aesthetic value.” By this time, modernism was clearly established in art – rules and school credentials dominated who could exhibit their art and who couldn’t. However, the same scientific determinism which underlay the modernist aesthetic also led to impressionism, then cubism, still far too rules-based for the younger creative souls of the age.

It seemed there must be a “deeper truth” in art, much like the deep insights then emerging in psychoanalysis. Surrealism became the new avant-garde. But the tension with kitsch continued. Ordinary people were still barred from participation in “high art” – because of barriers to entry, academic, linguistic or cultural.

By the mid-20^th century, a new art philosophy began to emerge. It became known as “postmodernism” – characterized by acceptance of cultural relativity in standards for art. Even kitsch could be appreciated, if only for its humor! Mass availability of electronically reproduced art (and kitsch) on recordings, radio and television changed the aesthetic experience for the bulk of the population in advanced societies -- especially the United States. But artists still yearned for that creative satisfaction in their art. Many sought it not through their works, but through symbols. Bohemianism became fashionable. Even affluent young people in the 1960s and 1970s became what David Brooks would call “Bobos” (bourgeois Bohemians). Other conservative commentators on aesthetics have lamented the apparent “irrelevance” of the avant-garde in postmodern art. Avant-Garde has now become the “establishment” among the art cogniscenti.

This ferment in style and aesthetics has been playing out in popular music as well as high art. It’s now a question of separating avant-garde kitsch from real avant-garde – or, conversely, ordinary unredeemable kitsch from avant-kitsch. Punk Rock illustrates this postmodern dilemma of aesthetics.

As the popularity of rock-and-roll on radio and records increased through the 1950s and early 1960s, two countercultures in music seemed to emerge. Both were purists. One sought to return to “roots” (early Delta blues and country ballads), the other mainly sought to smash the stranglehold of pabulum-purveying record companies, expressing their creativity through an edgier, more experimental (yes, avant-garde) style. It is the latter group that started to call themselves “Punk.” They were urban, working class in sympathy, and shared a contempt for the commercially successful pop music of the time.

Some of these artists, like Lou Reed and his band Velvet Underground, managed by that modernist/postmodernist crossover icon, Andy Warhol, set out to create an idiom – the idiom of avant-kitsch. Reed expressed Warhol’s aura, but had an inner competitive drive to be successful in the music world himself.

Others, like David Thomas, a long-time Cleveland Punk personality with his two bands, Rocket from the Tombs, then Pere Ubu, seemed to be happy existing for four decades on the margins of the critical universe, never really entering the world of commercial pop music, except satirically.

Then, there was Iggy Pop from Ann Arbor, with his early proto-punk band The Stooges, and later as a solo performer, with backup musicians from previous Punk groups. He did reach “rock star” status himself – but has always explored the boundaries between art and kitsch in a serious way. He continues to ask questions about the Avant-Garde, even as he seems finally to have quit performing (usually shirtless).

But their music is their legacy. It survives. Art always survives. While popular tastes change, the impulse to transcend the rules, the drive for the Avant-Garde, continues generation after generation. Rules and credentials are meant to topple, like that Vendome column nearly 150 years ago. It is not the conventional we remember – it is the breakthrough art.

There will always be a vanguard. The Saint-Simonians were correct – artists will lead the people’s vanguard. Even in our now-maturing “postmodern” world, we ask ourselves: “What comes next?”

Gimme Danger official trailer -- reference back to Beats post in March: "Proto-Punk and the Stooges"

Proto-Punk and The Stooges

William Sundwick

Rock 'n Roll started this way in the 1950s. You had poor, unknown, young musicians who had a desire to make music for other young people ... especially, at the beginning, for dancing. But, since it became apparent, early, that many of the young fans weren't just interested in dancing, but also listening to the music (with or without physical movement), records starting being pressed. Then, radio stations began playing the music. 

People started making money! Eventually, the raw power, the African inspired beat, and traditional song lyrics, was deemed by some entertainment conglomerates as a marketable commodity. Singles, recorded cheaply on 45 rpm vinyl discs, sold for a price low enough that teenagers could easily buy them without much budgetary notice from even hard-pressed families. Once they were "promoted" on corporate radio stations (supported by advertising), big business resulted. Some bands gained national reputations, and could tour ... drawing large crowds in concert venues. 33 1/3 rpm albums, comprising 10 or more "tracks" began to replace the inexpensive singles. The appeal for the music soon came primarily from listening, not dancing.

Jazz and Folk Become Rock 'n Roll

Jazz and folk music, from the late forties on into the 1950s, had established different audiences. Jazz buffs were older, college plus for the better educated; or, if not, they had grown up with the Big Band jazz of the thirties and forties, which represented their own youth. Folk music also had pre-war origins; but, unlike popular jazz, it centered around experiences of a poor, oppressed, people. It may have been a rural white experience, in Appalachia, or a black experience, also mainly rural Southern, in those days. By the 1950s, there was beginning to be a clash between the demographic groups who favored jazz versus those favoring folk. Jazz was considered, by this time, to be authorized by the middle class norms of American society. In short, it became bland. Folk music, thanks to people like Woody Guthrie, became associated with a left-wing alternative (clearly NOT authorized by a HUAC-dominated American political environment!). 

Into this arena burst that early youth-centered dance music, amplifying African-American beats and blues lyrics. It was named "Rock-and-Roll" by Billboard magazine, and was associated with popular dance music by Cleveland DJ Alan Freed. It came from black gospel and folk, from jazz dance music, and from country ballads (generally called "rockabilly"). It was simple, primitive, and mostly without commercial motivation. It was music intended for the enjoyment of the audience. Soon, it became music that an entire generation could associate with its own identity. These were white kids now living in suburban communities. Why they chose an identity celebrated previously by black folks must have had something to do with social power structures in mid-century America. The kids were the "havenots," aspiring to become "haves." But, to get to that status, the young fans needed to overcome much resistance, especially from their elders. Their music was the vehicle that could inspire them to keep fighting, fighting for themselves, to gain something unknown to their parents.

But, things began to change, as rock 'n roll became more widespread, and commercially successful. As it entered its second decade, rock 'n roll (now starting to be called simply "rock") was attracting a different audience. They were more upscale, college students (previously followers of modern jazz), a demographic now rather far removed from the baser origins of dance music. They also preferred to listen to more melodious, pleasant, sounds ... like those from the Beach Boys, or the Beatles. 

The Revolt Against "Rock"

The commercial market for popular music was becoming far more lucrative. Record labels were now giving big contracts to bands who managed to sound like what the executives of those labels thought would "sell." As always seems to happen in the dialectical world in which we live, a counterculture emerged. Just as the original rock-and-roll fans were a counterculture to their parents, a new counterculture was setting itself up in opposition to those contemporaries who seemed to have lost touch with the real roots of their art. The original rough, even sexually inspired, beat, the brazen saxophones, the black-sounding vocals, were being replaced by complex melodies, possibly two guitars with background keyboard, and generally more "soothing" vocals.

Something new, or perhaps, retro, was needed. It had to return to simplicity. It had to communicate some primitive passion ... even anger. Where the dominant singing style had become "crooning", the new paradigm needed to sound more like "snarling." In some ways, it was like evolving tastes in automobiles, at least in the U.S. The old tastes were for ostentation .... chrome and tail fins. The new taste was for power and speed, smaller in size, lighter, but much faster! 

The musicians who felt this way did not have a club of their own at first, they didn't even know what to call themselves, but they did have common influences on their musical style. They all liked Chuck Berry, but despised The Platters. They may have admired early Rolling Stones songs, and stage presence, but had only disdain for the clean-cut Beatles personas of the mid-sixties (Ed Sullivan vintage). 

Rock commentary has become obsessed with stylistic labels over the last thirty years or so (since "rock" has been deemed worthy of serious cultural and artistic critique). A style of rock music which most historians of the genre associate with the mid-seventies to early-eighties is called "punk." It was created simultaneously in the U.S. and U.K. The biggest name bands of this genre were on both sides of the Atlantic, The New York Dolls and The Clash are probably the first that come to mind. The Sex Pistols, in Britain, may have reached similar acclaim in the early eighties. These bands all seemed to be saying similar things about their social and artistic milieu. The dominant popular music of the day, according to them, had become far too burdened with technical matters, and divorced from real feelings.

Proto-Punk

But, these well-known bands had precursors, starting in the late sixties. The revolt against the homogenization of rock, and the desire to return to a simpler, more primitive, beat may have begun solely in the United States. There has been a new label  assigned by rock historians to a group of artists personified by three American bands, one from New York, and two from Detroit. The original "proto-punk" band, as the three are now known, was the one from New York, first promoted by Andy Warhol --The Velvet Underground. It was formed by Lou Reed and John Cale. Reed was an English Lit major at Syracuse University, with a penchant for the beat generation American authors. Cale, somewhat older, had been a devotee of John Cage and Sun Ra (avant garde electronic classical and jazz, respectively), but had prodigious musical talent, himself, playing several instruments. He was a Welsh immigrant to New York, while Reed was a middle class kid from Westchester County, who had suffered a traumatic childhood. Together with a bass player and a female drummer, they put together what today would be called a "garage rock" band, in the mid-sixties. They were discovered by Warhol, who was looking for a vehicle to promote his traveling show of films, "The Exploding Plastic Inevitable." He probably had a vision of the kind of music he wanted for his show, and VU matched it. Cale's penchant for the avant garde, and cacophonous dissonance, often with unusual instruments, made great counterpoint to Reed's flair for language, as the songwriter/storyteller of the group. After a few years, however, the resulting artistic tension between the two led Cale to leave. Reed carried on with the others for a while, then decided to launch a solo career.

What did John Cale do when he left The Velvet Underground? He began looking for struggling young bands that might be receptive to his outrageous, experimental, avant garde predilections. One such band, located in Ann Arbor, was The Stooges. They had just been signed by Elektra Records, the same label that did The Doors, and other big name rock acts, but they had yet to produce their first album.  Another Detroit band, the MC5 (for "Motor City 5"), was signed at the same time by Elektra, but was already well known locally. They were offered $20K to The Stooges $5K.  Cale agreed to produce The Stooges first album. Front man Iggy Pop had been experimenting early with avant garde sounds. and unusual souding non-instruments, that would clearly draw Cale's interest.

MC5 had created some buzz in the fledgling rock media, mostly for their own outrageous brand of anger, raw rock 'n roll beat, and strong anti-establishment viewpoint -- in the late sixties, this took the form of actual political advocacy for left-wing groups like the Black Panther Party. They were clearly mentors for Iggy, and his band members, the Asheton brothers (Ron and Scott), and Dave Alexander. The musical style of both bands was similar, harking back to early rock and roll sounds: simple guitar chords, now heavily amplified, with feedback, bass rhythm guitar, and drums. MC5's songs used rather traditional blues lyrics, but Iggy Pop had more affinity for teen-age alienation, and in some noteworthy cases, a real sense of the malaise of industrial America, befitting his Michigan background. He was born in 1947, in Muskegon, as James Osterberg. Iggy Pop was a stage name he invented for the band, after attending an early MC5 concert in Detroit. Rob Tyner, of MC5, eventually starting using Iggy, and his band, as openers for them. Hence, the two bands were discovered simultaneously by Elektra, in 1968. 

Enter, The Stooges

It was The Stooges more adventurous musical content, however, that drew the attention of both John Cale, and later rock music critics. MC5 built a counterculture following, especially after an obscenity flack around their signature song, "Kick Out the Jams." (Detroit's premier department store chain, J. L. Hudson Co., refused to stock any Elektra records as fallout ... down went Hudson's!). But, it was Iggy Pop and The Stooges who blazed the path which later led to what rock commentators would label "punk." In a very real way, they were the first punks! The avant garde style of Cale did not last past their first, self-titled, album, however. 

By the time their third album was released, in 1973, they had attracted the attention of yet another rock music star with an interest in finding new, raw talent ... that album, "Raw Power," was produced by David Bowie. Pop and Bowie had become friends since the two had met at Max's Kansas City in New York, two years earlier. It was primarily Pop's outrageous concert demeanor that most of his fans grabbed. Performing bare chested, he was known to have allowed himself to be hoisted overhead on the hands of the audience, smearing peanut butter on his chest, or walking barefoot over broken glass on stage.

But, from the viewpoint of a rock historian, perhaps the most significant feature of The Stooges was the simple, primitive, retro rock 'n roll beat of their songs, and the banal ... even boring ... nature of the lyrics. None of the poetic flourish of many Bob Dylan-inspired songwriters, or of a Lou Reed. No, Iggy Pop songs weren't fancy, but they remind some of us of just what it was like growing up in places like a typical Detroit suburb, or Flint. The sameness of the routine, the drabness of daily life, in that industrial flatland. Here are some examples:

No Fun (by Scott Asheton) --

      No fun, my babe

      No fun

      No fun to hang around

      Feelin' that same old way

      No fun to hang around

      Freaked out

      For another day ...

put it together with the minimalist music: No Fun

Or, 1969 --

     It's 1969 OK all across the USA

     It's another year for me and you

     Last year I was twenty one I didn't have a lot of fun

     And now I'm gonna be twenty two I say oh my and a boo-hoo

     It's 1969 OK all across the USA ... 

with similar chords: 1969

Not much to stir the imagination here. It seemed the very repetitiveness, the drone, especially at loud volume, that was the message. One song from the John Cale produced debut album stands out as the signature, however: "I Wanna Be Your Dog". More than any of the others, this song manages to muster some urgency, perhaps inspired by Cale, with a stabbing pain from keyboard throughout, and the crescendo fuzzed guitar chords at the close. The lyrics suggest that happiness may come only by descending to the level of a pet ... as he lays "right down in my favorite place", where he can close his eyes and close his mind. Listen here.

Raw Power, and the Decline of Punk

The David Bowie produced third album, Raw Power, is generally even darker than the debut album. While the Cale produced work emphasizes monotony, a theme in Raw Power is aggression. An example:

Search & Destroy --

      And I'm the world's forgotten boy

      The one who's searchin', searchin' to destroy

      And honey I'm the world's forgotten boy

      The one who's searchin', only to destroy, hey

      Look out honey, 'cause I'm using technology

      Ain't got time to make no apology

      Soul radiation in the dead of night

      Love in the middle of a fire fight

      Honey, gotta strike me blind

      Somebody gotta save my soul

      Baby, penetrate my mind ... 

It moves at a faster tempo, more frenetic, than most of the tracks on the first album, but with conventional rock guitar, bass, drums. Here it is: Search & Destroy . 

Some tracks, like "Gimme Danger" are slower, but much more menacing, than anything on their self-titled first album. Here's Gimme Danger .  In 2016, Jim Jarmusch made a documentary film of the same name, about Iggy Pop and The Stooges. It artfully skims over the outrageous stage antics (and personal lives of the band members), focusing more on the music ... an appropriate emphasis, I would submit.

The Stooges struggled for the rest of their career, losing members of the band to drug addiction, and generally finding that Iggy Pop's stage persona started getting old, as the original fan base from the early seventies aged out of the target audience. The next generation apparently had different sensibilities. Gen-X did not have the same frame of reference as their older, boomer, siblings. Also, "punk" itself, evolved into metal, then alternative rock. The rock aficionados had no time for yesterday's stylistic labels ... as long as there were always new bands to write about. It remained material only for the rock historians. Nevertheless, The Stooges were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010. This honor, as intended, allows them (the survivors, at least) to claim the well-deserved mantle of "icon" with the rock commentariat.