The gap between audience, critic
After seeing Frank Zappa’s new film, “200 Motels,” on Monday afternoon, a fellow viewer commented that it would require two or three exposures before proper assessment could be made.
After listening once to an album by a singer named Judee Sill, I was told by an admirer of hers that full appreciation would come only with repeated hearings.
This brings up an interesting question; one that, I think, exposes the great communications gap between audience and critic. Critics are certainly not supposed to merely be members of the audience and reflect some sort of mass consensus. On the other hand, great intimacy with the matter at hand — movie, performance, record or whatever — is no bargain. Those involved in a creation, no matter how good it may be, are rarely able to see it with anything even approximating objectivity.
Thus, whatever people may need from reviewers, it is neither mass consensus nor intimate detail. Perhaps, generally speaking, the value of critics comes rather in clues, hints and observations.
People buy records, for example, because (A) they buy everything a particular performer does or, (B) because they hear something and like it … on the radio, at a friend’s, in a boutique. Basically, they react to a sound and, despite everything that is written about lyrics in contemporary music, the fact of the matter is that records are bought and artists are embraced for their particular sound, not for their ideas. In many cases, once the artist has drawn attention through sound — and, by sound, I simply mean the distinctiveness of the music of Elton John or Santana or Dionne Warwick — then perhaps attention will accrue to lyrics. But one of the great myths fostered by contemporary pop music writing is that the average (enlightened) person gives a tinker’s damn about words. In some cases, sure. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” is certainly lyrically clear and intelligible. But what about “Eleanor Rigby”? Is the attraction the great insight of the words or the moodsound? In many cases, words from hit songs are not even decipherable. When I heard Chubby Checker do “California Dreamin’ ” the other night, I understood one phrase about the “preacher” which I had never really heard before. And only in recent years has Bob Dylan made any noticeable attempt to pronounce words so that they could be understood.
So, this is what the average person hears … or does not hear. A sound, a mood, a feeling. And decisions are made on that basis. Yet not so with critics, at least much of the time. A day is given to listening to Judee Sill. The lyrics are followed with the handy lyrics sheet. Each side is listened to three, five, 10 times. Much is pondered, thought, muttered. Then, the review.
But for whom? The person who buys on the recommendation will not hear what the critic has written about and most likely will not devote the next week of his life to matching that particular perspective. And it may be that you have to see “200 Motels” at least three times to get everything. But, that doesn’t mean that those who will see it thrice and get everything are at all to be envied. It simply means that — if it is necessary to see more than once — Zappa failed, not the audience. You cannot make a film that requires those interested to go three times before the totality is clear. And you cannot make a record that must grow on you over a long period of time. At least not if you’re trying to communicate with more than 3 percent of the population.
Oh, you can, of course. There’s no law and it’s no crime. And repeated exposure to any work of art is valuable. But, on the contrary, repeated exposure should not be mandatory in order to determine if it’s art in the first place. Those who think it should I hereby sentence to hear Jim Nabors’ new album, “How Great Thou Art,” 300 straight times. And then write a paper titled “Art, How Great Thou Is.”