[ed. Highlighting one of the links in this essay: Postmodernism or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism.]
As with all advertisements, there are a few deceptions at the heart of Apple’s commercial for U2’s newly released Songs of Innocence. The most immediate is that it ends with the tagline “free on iTunes now.”
Given that the album was delivered — without permission — into the digital libraries of over five hundred million iTunes users, implying any kind of choice in the matter seems at the very least misleading. A better version of the ad might read “yours whether you like it or not.”
The move to upload Songs of Innocence without the consent of hundreds of millions of music fans has been so strongly criticized that within days Apple posted a standalone webpage with instructions on how to permanently delete the album. Meanwhile, lead-singer Bono has been lashing out at critics as “haters,” calling the Internet commentary “enough to put you off democracy.” It’s a rather odd rebuttal, which is to say nothing of the rather unsettling implications such a marketing strategy brings with it in a post-Snowden world.
A much more subtle deception is embedded in the ad’s content, which features old footage of live performances from the Ramones, the Clash, and Patti Smith. But what about U2? They are relegated to empty blue-violet avatars, singing and performing the album’s lead single while images of Patti, Joey and Johnny, Joe and Mick are projected onto them.
It’s surely intended as an homage of sorts, an attempt to paint the band as following in the footsteps of punk rock’s greatest. But the resulting imagery only underlines the Washington Post’s Chris Richards’description of the iTunes scheme: “rock-and-roll as dystopian junk mail.” This is the artist as a hollow vessel, a blank commodity for the sake of another commodity, ready-made for the transmission of whatever concept is deemed worthy at the time.
To be sure, Bono has viewed himself in such a way for some time now. He has famously spent the past twenty-five years glad-handing Clintonian economists and former World Bank honchos, heads of state, bigoted congressmen, and outright war criminals. He has penned asinine columns for the New York Times touting the benefits of the free market that make Thomas Friedman look positively eloquent. And then there’s his charitable work: providing money for AIDS research in Africa by teaming up with some of the very same Western companies that have profited so highly from the ongoing pillage of the continent.
Bono’s mission isn’t simply to provide capitalism with a human face. Whether he acknowledges it or not, it’s an attempt at constructing a full-spectrum artistic cocoon for Margaret Thatcher’s notorious dictum “There Is No Alternative.” Songs of Innocence — both its ham-handed aesthetics and its crass economics — fits right in.
by Alexander Billet, Jacobin | Read more:
Image: Phil Romans / Flickr
As with all advertisements, there are a few deceptions at the heart of Apple’s commercial for U2’s newly released Songs of Innocence. The most immediate is that it ends with the tagline “free on iTunes now.”
Given that the album was delivered — without permission — into the digital libraries of over five hundred million iTunes users, implying any kind of choice in the matter seems at the very least misleading. A better version of the ad might read “yours whether you like it or not.”
The move to upload Songs of Innocence without the consent of hundreds of millions of music fans has been so strongly criticized that within days Apple posted a standalone webpage with instructions on how to permanently delete the album. Meanwhile, lead-singer Bono has been lashing out at critics as “haters,” calling the Internet commentary “enough to put you off democracy.” It’s a rather odd rebuttal, which is to say nothing of the rather unsettling implications such a marketing strategy brings with it in a post-Snowden world.A much more subtle deception is embedded in the ad’s content, which features old footage of live performances from the Ramones, the Clash, and Patti Smith. But what about U2? They are relegated to empty blue-violet avatars, singing and performing the album’s lead single while images of Patti, Joey and Johnny, Joe and Mick are projected onto them.
It’s surely intended as an homage of sorts, an attempt to paint the band as following in the footsteps of punk rock’s greatest. But the resulting imagery only underlines the Washington Post’s Chris Richards’description of the iTunes scheme: “rock-and-roll as dystopian junk mail.” This is the artist as a hollow vessel, a blank commodity for the sake of another commodity, ready-made for the transmission of whatever concept is deemed worthy at the time.
To be sure, Bono has viewed himself in such a way for some time now. He has famously spent the past twenty-five years glad-handing Clintonian economists and former World Bank honchos, heads of state, bigoted congressmen, and outright war criminals. He has penned asinine columns for the New York Times touting the benefits of the free market that make Thomas Friedman look positively eloquent. And then there’s his charitable work: providing money for AIDS research in Africa by teaming up with some of the very same Western companies that have profited so highly from the ongoing pillage of the continent.
Bono’s mission isn’t simply to provide capitalism with a human face. Whether he acknowledges it or not, it’s an attempt at constructing a full-spectrum artistic cocoon for Margaret Thatcher’s notorious dictum “There Is No Alternative.” Songs of Innocence — both its ham-handed aesthetics and its crass economics — fits right in.
by Alexander Billet, Jacobin | Read more:
Image: Phil Romans / Flickr
