I spent months bugging Brad about what Antifolk is and isn't.
He'd put on a cd, and I'd say, "is this Antifolk?" He'd just smile.
But, last weekend, when we were in NYC to see the summer
Antifolk Festival 2002, I think I figured out a pretty good definition.
Antifolk, quite simply, is where the sincerity in music has gone.
I was blown away by the truthfulness in the performances we saw
during the festival. Antifolk music is compelling. You get emotionally
involved while you're listening to it. It's not background music to be
played while you're doing other things. It demands your full attention.
Much of what is wrong with today's popular music stems from the
lack of sincerity in performances. The artists that are really cashing
in, the folks you see on MTV, don't have much to do with what they
perform. So few of them really play instruments, let alone write the music or lyrics that they perform. Everything you see and hear is scripted by someone else, usually a creative team paid by record companies to keep these "artists" popular. They dress these "artists," coach them on what to say during interviews, and even hire acting coaches to teach them how to add inflection to lyrics so they'll actually sound like they feel something when they're performing. If that stuff works, kids buy in and these "artists" are even more valuable to record companies. Then the secondary marketing plan kicks in, sending Mandy Moore off to do Neutrogena commercials and N*Sync to do some for Chilis. Don't get me started about the musicians in last year's Gap commercials.
Antifolk is about as far removed from that bullshit as you can get, and that's why it's catching on. The feeling in this music is tangible. When Joie sings about heartache, I want to give him a hug. When The Moldy Peaches sing about just wanting to sick back and enjoy cartoons, I want to claim a spot on the couch next to them.
This summer's Antifolk festival marked the first time I'd been to New York to see Antifolk performed. Before then, Antifolk was just the genre of music my husband enjoyed and tried to spread the word about back home in North Carolina. But seeing Prewar Yardsale, Schwervon, Lylah, and others put themselves out there with such sincerity I was often moved, was amazing.
I'm a writer, and the first thing they teach you in school is "write what you know." When you try to write about things you don't, readers know instantly. I learned at the Antifolk festival that the same is true about music.
I also learned that Antifolk is more than just the music. It's about family. I didn't expect to have folks inviting us to hang out after the shows, or to go to their homes. I was impressed with the diversity of the scene, and the tolerance for a variety of viewpoints presented through the music. It was interesting to see Timothy Dark perform music with an undercurrent of religious devotion in the same weekend that I watched John S. Hall say "goddamn" about 100 times in a 10-minute set. And, the smart sweetness of The Babyskins that contrasted so well with the full-on, gut-wrenching Larval Organs.
I've been reading about Antifolk for a while now, and I think it's interesting that the same questions keep being posed and answered in different ways. What is Antifolk? Are the new people on the scene ruining it? Why are some of the originators not playing out anymore? People keep posting about this stuff on message boards and seem to get pissed off when they don't agree with others' answers.
A side note here: Maybe I feel brave enough to approach this subject because I'm removed from it to a certain extent. I'm not a musician (unless playing the piccolo counts?) and I don't have the guts to sing in a band. So, I don't have anything to lose by asserting these points.
The reason people keep searching for a hard definition of Antifolk is simple. Human beings like to classify things. We like to set up categories and figure out how to put things in them because it helps us make sense of our world. In college, I learned that this is why we created language. A chair isn't really a chair. It's a bunch of wood put together so you can sit down. We just all agree to call it a chair so that we can communicate with each other. Antifolk isn't a formula for a type of music, it's the sincerity conveyed through music.
So, who cares if the Antifolk scene isn't exactly what it used to be in its early days? Isn't music supposed to reflect the world of the moment? The music you make now should be different than what you'd make five years from now. Like it or not, you're a different person now than you will be then. If you're not, something's very wrong. Don't be a static person. Don't let your music fall into a holding pattern that never changes.
I guess what I hope you'll take from this mini-rant is that you are lucky as hell to live up there in crazy NYC, and you should spend less time bickering behind the scenes about what Antifolk is and isn't, and get back to making some of the best music that's out there today. Those of us who have turned away from the generic unfeeling crap that's on the radio need something to believe in.
