hadespussercats wrote:apophenia wrote:I would say that Tes Hombres is the seminal ZZ Top album. Eliminator is what resulted from refining and taming their original sound, and putting it through the reducing influence of slick studio production.
I'm not sure I understand the disdain for well-executed studio production.
J and I were just discussing possible roots of the attitude-- a Ruskinian romanticization of the imperfections of human craftsmanship-- which doesn't entirely make sense when what's being discussed is a record made for mass consumption. And then there's the cult of vinyl-- that the hisses and crackles that were constant aggravations to the producers of albums in vinyl's heyday now have the cachet of nostalgia-- nothing can compare to the warm sounds of crackling vinyl.
Not that there's anything wrong with that view. It's a question of taste, I suppose.
Hmm

I've always disliked the Rolling Stone magazine sort of view that Rock & Rock must be raucous and raw. If a band sounds like they're playing out of their garage, loud sloppy and...loud, Rolling Stone loves them. Whereas I tend to think that the more refined they are, the better the quality of their playing and singing, the more I like them. Which is why I love progressive rock so much. It took rock up to the next level. That being said, there's such a thing as being too slick, and slick in the sense that the original charm of the band is hidden under an overly polished veneer. And then there's slick for the sake of slick, in an effort to appeal to the lowest common denominator, or for mass consumption as you say. I'm reminded of Van Halen's song "Jump" for instance. Van Halen was a band I never cared for but could tolerate for the most part. That particular song however annoys me so much that I change the radio station if ever it should come on. I despise it. Too slick, too polished, and absolutely soulless. And yet inexplicably it's their biggest hit.
Anyway, you've given me something to think about, the bit about the imperfections being an important part of the appeal. When I look at a drawing or painting, for instance, it's it's too perfect, too flawless, I find it kind of boring. Or it may be technically impressive but leaves me a bit cold, or I don't know how to respond to it. If I see some slight imperfections, though, some rough edges, I can get a lot more excited about it. It seems more human, almost attainable perhaps, it maybe gives me a crevasse to enter and work my way into it.
Then there's the balance when creating any type of art between craft and refinement, and energy and spontaneity.
People think "queue" is just "q" followed by 4 silent letters.
But those letters are not silent.
They're just waiting their turn.