Author: DC
Word count: 1,031
Every so often a song is written that captures the spirit and mood of a particular period of time. From “The Times, They Are A-Changin’” to “Tainted Love” to “Ice Ice Baby”[1], these tunes become cultural milestones that people refer back to when trying to understand past eras and the cultural artefacts that they produced. In general musicians have found it easier to write zeitgeist-capturing songs during good times than bad, which is perhaps unsurprising when you consider that the word “anthem” means “a song (or composition) of celebration”.
Take the happy-go-lucky years between 2000 and 2007 – this span of time produced not one but two bona fide defining anthems that, even if all other songs and photos and narratives from this period ceased to exist, would give a social historian looking back from 2150 a real sense of what things were like. M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” and MGMT’s “Time To Pretend” were irresistibly bubbly powerhouses of optimism and exuberance that perfectly documented a time in which the world seemed frothier and more replete with opportunity than it had done in decades. The fact that they made relatively little lyrical sense, and that the sugar-high sort of wore off once you’d listened to the songs a dozen or so times, further enhanced their credibility as noughties anthems, because the time period didn’t really make any sense either and the good times didn’t really last.
Since the mortgage industry collapsed, the bond market burst into flames and we fell headlong into the current economic crisis, artists have failed to write a song that perfectly reflects the strange, possibly unique mood of these times. We’ve had attempts from country singers that are too true-blue and optimistic to ring true, from rappers that have been too focussed on how the recession will impair their ability to afford syrup and grills, and from soulful acoustic whiteboys that have been just awful. Now, however, as we appear to be entering the second phase of the “double-dip” downturn, we have our song.
The song is called “I Need A Dollar” by soul singer Aloe Blacc, as re-created and rapped over by an MC called Marky on a remix that he calls “Rasta Monsta”. The original is a fantastic horn-driven song that first attracted the notice of many when it was used as the theme for HBO’s New York-set drama “How To Make It In America”. Unusually for HBO the show has turned out to be a shallow disappointment, but its music directors found a real gem to play over the credits, and Marky has if anything improved on the original with his addition of some thoughtful rhymes.
The vibe that Blacc and Marky capture so well[2] is the creeping yet eventually all-consuming nature of the current slump. This recession, for all of the historical comparisons, was not started or fuelled by a single cataclysmic event, as the Great Depression was by the Wall Street Crash. In the financial world Meltdown 2009 was heralded by one microdrama after another, each resulting in a few bankruptcies, a tranche of redundancies, disasters on small scales. When they are taken together, however, the staggering cumulative impact of the microdramas becomes evident. This is how the recession has been felt by many of us, in increments, in stages so small as to be almost imperceptible at the time but crippling when taken together. First our jobs got less secure, then our credit limits came down, then our mortgage rates went up. If you were lucky, then you managed to contain the damage and keep the lights on. If you just couldn’t keep the pieces together then perhaps your utilities got cut off, or your house was repossessed, or you had to declare bankruptcy. That is how the story went, bit by bit, blow by blow.
This is exactly the tale told by Blacc and Marky. You go from having “big dreams / to make it to those bright screens”, from being so positive that “after graduation I was on my high horse”. Then the boss “says he ain’t got no work”. Next, with Marky showing a killer eye for salient, heartbreaking detail, “Wachovia collapsed, my account’s still in the negative / Verizon cut my 3G[3] / funny thing about it, I don’t find that shit hilarious”. Suddenly “life wakes your ass up out your narcolepsy” and, in the words of Marky, you are left with only two choices. You can “rob Ray to pay Paul just to buy shit”, or you can find a change cup and beg folk, telling them that you “need a dollar, a dollar, a dollar is what I need”.
The artists also nail the sense that this experience could be as long-term psychologically tough as it is short-term situationally horrific. Marky doesn’t see any quick solutions, he knows that the state is overwhelmed with demands for bailouts and aid, and he doesn’t expect a handout – instead he takes the weight on himself. He chooses not to be angry, although many are and we have some right to be, with the naïve and corrupt market makers that hastened our descent into difficulty. Instead, he is personally ashamed, muttering that “I think failure’s embarrassing”. Above all, isn’t that how many of us feel right now? Embarrassed that after so many years of relative prosperity we’re struggling again? Embarrassed that we need help, be it a dollar or many thousands of dollars, from wherever we can get it? Embarrassed that in a way we brought this on ourselves by buying houses that we couldn’t afford, and running up credit card debts that we knew we couldn’t pay off? Embarrassed that, although we inherently know that things go in cycles, we let ourselves believe that the good times would never end?
[1] I am not 100% serious about this one. However, I think you could make a strong argument that Vanilla Ice was the defining cultural figure of the 1990s. More on that another time, if the editors ever let me!
[2] From now on, to avoid confusion, I am referring to the Marky “Rasta Monsta” remix of the song
[3] After all, for the modern man is a right to proper 3G reception not up there alongside life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?
