If you have visited YouTube in the past few weeks, you have probably seen the video of twelve-year old Greyson Chance performing Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi.” Like most internet video sensations, Chance was invited on the Ellen show. The Ellen show garnered huge ratings and even more hits for the adorably floppy-haired young man, whose interview was peppered with a bunch of precocious “likes” and “uhs.”
In this digital age of ours, the life cycle of an internet fad is about two or three weeks. Chance will be around for at least another six months. Last week, Ellen DeGeneres announced that she would be forming her own record label, eleveneleven, and Chance would be her inaugural signing.
My initial reaction was to write a blog about what a travesty this is. After thinking about it for a while, I realized that this is the way pop music has always worked. A half-century ago, Chance would have been discovered on a street corner, singing with a group of his buddies. He would have been Fabian.
YouTube is not the problem here. Greyson Chance is being ascended to the pop star throne by a celebrity with a vanity label. This is the kiss of death.
Pop music relies on A&R more than any other genre. Behind every great pop group, there is a Svengali. The Monkees had Don Kirchner. The Jackson Five had Berry Gordy. The New Kids on the Block had Maurice Starr. These bands succeeded because the people backing them knew a hook. Would Ellen be able to pick out “Last Train to Clarksville” or “I Think I Love You?” There is a stark difference between liking a hook and being able to pick one out.
While in New York for my sister’s college graduation, I was lucky enough to pass by the old Brill Building. I peered in the heavy glass doors and tried to imagine it in its glory days. Paul Anka, Carole King, Gerry Goffin and Neil Diamond were paid to do nothing but write pop songs. The names behind those songs have faded into time, but the work stands on its own. Today is the age of the superproducer. We have Scott Storch, The-Dream and The Neptunes. There isn’t the same collaboration between the songwriters and the producers.
So instead of a rant, this blog is a challenge to Ellen DeGeneres. Impress me. Pull a rabbit out of your hat. Give Greyson Chance a pop song that will make me overlook his negligible charisma. Hire the dudes that wrote the first Click Five album. Hell, hire Carole King to rewrite “Something Good.” Do something, or else I will be forced to write yet another blog about the death of popular music. I really don’t feel like doing that, Ellen. I’m starting to sound like a broken record. If you give me a great piece of bubblegum, I won’t make fun of Greyson Chance’s teeth….for two months.
