There comes a time in the life of any moderately successful band where a decision must be made: to continue writing artistically relevant music or to throw on a cowboy hat and write about beer and puss—

I wonder which is more profitable.

Last week we explored the first of six stylistic pitfalls good bands/musicians so often fall prey to (click here to see part 1!), changes in quality of life. In this edition we will be focusing our attention on a very different, but equally devastating gaffe, and it’s a distinctly American problem at that (provided that Canada is basically America).

I recently interviewed Dead Letter Circus’s frontman, Kim Benzie, and he divulged a fascinating bit of knowledge: the whole “cock rock” craze that took the States by storm five or so years ago never happened down under.

“In America, rock got divided into two: it either got really heavy with the hardcore kids and the metal scene or it went to outback hick with stuff like Nickelback or Three Doors Down. What happened in Australia is that we didn’t have any bands like that at all. Nu-metal kind of got uncool there. Nickelback is uncool as a general rule. We didn’t have anything like that. What we did have was a new ground for people who were into Tool and the Deftones.”

Exqueeze me? You mean none of this?

Lots of these?

and plenty of this?

Shit, I think I’m moving to Australia. Cock rock is an all-American problem, so for whatever reasons, this force that causes bands to change their sound so radically is localized very much to the States. It should be said, though, that like heroes and soufflés, cock rockers are not born, but made.

Even the bands that we so typically associate with the [bowel] movement didn’t start off as the titty-grabbing, beer-guzzling, all ‘Mercan rockers we know them as today. They all had humble beginnings as below average, semi-tolerable radio rock bands that got a little attention and found kissing and telling to be an easy transition.

(Yes! There was a time when even Nickelback could write a mediocre song!)

And that’s all well and good, but these cases are hardly interesting. You didn’t care about Theory of a Deadman when the singer had an ass of a mustache and wrote crappy breakup songs:

So what do you care if he’s now writing about his girlfriend slutting it up at the bar; you didn’t like them before and you don’t now.

But what about the edgy guys? Y’know, the dudes with the matching black outfits who stole Iron Maiden’s leads and rapped about “contemplating suicide” in 2000 (raise your hand if you learned a new word from this ditty!)?

How is it that nearly ten years later we find these boys in the company of money-flashing suit n’ ties and scantily-clad broads? Did all those sad white kids in the first video blossom into “Dirty”-era Christina Aguilera look-alikes? And at what point did the singer get a stupid haircut, drop the white thug act, and get laid?

It’s common sense, but in the music world timing is everything. People in 2000 weren’t universally more depressed than they are today, and people today aren’t having radically more sex than were in 2000. These are “flavor of the week” topics so to speak.

Why is it “cool” now to strain over three chords about all the sex you are or, more likely, aren’t having? The same reason it was soooo cool in ’99 to say “fuck” 80 bajillion times in a song. These are cultural taboos on the most shallow level, yet they add just enough zest to break us for three to four minutes from the doldrums of daily life.

We see this on the other end of the c-rock spectrum as referenced in the “outback hick” part of Benzie’s quote. Can you think of any other reason as to why Drowning Pool would simply let the quality hit the floor and move on to red-neck anthems and videos that look like Burger King commercials?

Why else would musicians from three awesome metal bands in the ’90s unite to form the backing band for the Blue Collar Comedy Tour?

If the buzz factor is eliminated, it don’t make a lick of sense.

If you’re a middle class, middle-aged regular joe who works 50 hours a week in a 6’’ by 6’’ cubicle maybe pretending you’re some no-rule-followin’ country fella’ on the ride home, it’s liberating. At least it sells records.

But that aside, how is it that the only certifiably Southern person in Hellyeah is the only one in their promo pictures not wearing a stupid hat? I’m sorry, having a mustache doesn’t mean you can speak Italian.

And wearing a ten gallon hat doesn’t make your band good (or turn them into Pantera).

Naturally, if your group’s appeal is rooted in following such popular whims, you’re gonna find that your sound is always changing and that your fans are always pissed.

To conclude, I leave you folks just with this:

Why? Because writing about all this swanky, feel-good, tunage has got me feelin’ pretty KICK ASS and I hope you do too.

Keep it sleazy.

-BS