Critic's Notebook: Pop With Purpose

By ANN POWERS


Eggheaded rock critics, music business insiders and radio-playing fans all
agreed on one thing in 1997: Pop led the way. From Aqua's ode to plastic,
"Barbie Girl," to Sean (Puffy) Combs' ode to cash, "It's All About the
Benjamins," pop proved that music could be a shiny toy and still stimulate more
cultural conversation than the dourest rock poet on the block.

In the rock era, which may or may not be ending, guitar-wielding bards with
socially relevant messages channel the popular spirit. Last year, the job went
to three teen-age boys, Hanson, and five Wonderbra-wearing chicks, the Spice
Girls, all of whom prefer practical jokes to deep conversation.

Fans of album-oriented artists fretted, declaring it a year of one-hit
wonders. Even if a few admitted to enjoying Hanson's sweet musical snacks and
being vaguely distracted by the Spice Girls, they saw these entertainers as
merely a perky break until the next wave of serious artists came along.

Yet to describe pop in such light terms misses its significant social impact.
Pop serves a specific purpose, with its own value. Makers of great albums build
their own worlds and invite listeners in, but the best singles gain their
definition upon impact with the world at large. The album is a form best
appreciated privately. Singles, and the pop artists who make them, resonate
most when shared.

Elton John's "Candle in the Wind 1997" offers a perfect example. The
reworking by John and the lyricist Bernie Taupin of their 1973 ode to Marilyn
Monroe into an elegy for Diana, Princess of Wales, is an undeniably lazy bit of
song craft. But as its sales rose past the seven million mark, its significance
amplified. Like Diana's death itself, it gave strangers a way to share in a
universal ritual of bereavement. Because it was rooted in an older hit, it
immediately produced a feeling of nostalgia.

Taupin's sentimental new words and John's unstudied singing further shaped
"Candle" into a generic expression of melancholy. Its very banality perfectly
served the strange phenomenon of millions lamenting over a woman they had never
met.

The single of the summer also mourned a particular death, the shooting of
Notorious B.I.G., while leaving room for others to assume its lamentation.
"I'll Be Missing You" was recorded in tribute to the Notorious B.I.G. by his
collaborator Sean (Puffy) Combs, with further vocals by the rapper's widow,
Faith Evans. Again relying on a familiar melody -- a sample from "Every Breath
You Take," by the Police -- Combs and Ms. Evans tenderly shared their
astonishment at their loss.

Among many of the urban listeners who also loved the Notorious B.I.G., sudden
deaths are not uncommon. As a tool for channeling grief, "I'll Be Missing You"
was at once extremely personal and easily accessible.

While death was one heavy subject that supposedly trivial pop songs
addressed, another was sex. Beyond the year's collection of finely crafted love
songs were some that went further, exploring gender roles. The Spice Girls'
first hit, "Wannabe," sassily extolled female camaraderie and independence,
forming the basis for the group's "girl power" rhetoric.

Fiona Apple's "Criminal" confronted young women's complicated sexual power,
both in its lyrics and through a video that some critics said was nearly
pornographic. Aqua's "Barbie Girl" played on (and poked fun at) the cliche of
Woman as Object. Whether fans found irony in these songs depended on their own views about the battle of the sexes.

Male artists responded with their own new masculine paradigms. Modern rock
heartthrobs in the Verve Pipe and Matchbox 20 expressed frustration at their
own macho impulses, while the less generically cute Englishman behind White
Town took it one step further, declaring, "I will never be your woman."

The smooth rhythm-and-blues group Dru Hill was the host of a talk-show
episode on marital ennui and sang "We're Not Making Love." Even Bob Dylan
gained attention this year with an album largely made up of mooning love songs,
one of which, "Lovesick," was an excellent single.

The rise of multiculturalism and subsequent boundary-crossing also found
expression on the pop charts. The Maori rapper OMC and the Jamaican toaster
Supercat (collaborating with a bunch of suburban surfers on the Sugar Ray
single, "Fly") both triumphed. World views as diverse as the anarchist politics
of Chumbawamba and the Christian family values of Bob Carlisle fought it out.
The sound of pop is the din of a culture constantly redefining itself.

Two of the best singles of the year addressed the ephemeral nature of
pop-based culture itself. "Mmmbop," by Hanson, and "Walking on the Sun," by
Smash Mouth, use irresistible hooks and rhythms to ruminate on how quickly such
pleasures mutate. Pop's great gift is that it always adapts to what the moment
demands. In the hands of this year's skilled tricksters, its messages just kept
multiplying.



Monday, January 12, 1998
Copyright 1998 The New York Times