By Andrea Miller
I was watching a Mitsubishi car commercial and all I could think was “Et tu Brute?”
I told myself that the accompanying song must have been a sad imitation of the original since companies often use bad Muzak versions for commercials.
But, turning my attention to the TV, I realized that it was indeed spacey alt-rockers The Flaming Lips singing “Do You Realize?” while some guy drove around in a car.
Was I so naïve to think that some bands still performed out of sheer passion for the music, with financial gain a distant and secondary goal? Apparently.
This commercial confirms my worst fear: artistic integrity has a price and there are far too many interested sellers.
But my animosity towards this acidic practice doesn’t include everyone.
I wasn’t the least bit shocked when Britney Spears, Beyoncé and Pink were rounded up as the latest nymphets to scamper about in belly tops and sell Pepsi, since these women are almost corporations unto themselves. And although pop singer Justin Timberlake was well on his way to earning the white man’s version of street credibility, I was more disappointed than surprised when he sold his soul to McDonald’s with three little words: “I’m lovin’ it.”
But when a band like The Flaming Lips, who have operated under the mainstream radar – save for the surprise ‘90s hit “She Don’t Use Jelly” — sold their work to a car company, I felt personally betrayed. There are simply some musicians that, through their song lyrics, aesthetic, and projected personae radiate integrity. And The Flaming Lips were one of those bands.
The group’s 1999 album The Soft Bulletin warranted this comment from Pitchforkmedia.com music critic Jason Josephes: “One of the only albums I can compare it to is Dark Side of the Moon — a sonic exploration into a bunch of morbid themes.” A band that echoes Pink Floyd is obviously far more concerned with artistic growth than bringing home the bacon, right?
Unfortunately, The Flaming Lips aren’t the only musicians who are seeing the world through a green lens.
Devo, the ‘80s new wave band known for wearing Lego hats, are now selling Swiffer disposable mops.
The band’s most popular song, “Whip It,” has been butchered beyond belief to create a marketable jingle: “With Swiffer – Place looks great/ It’s not too late!”
What’s more, the people from Swiffer actually enlisted original vocalist Mark Mothersbaugh to sing the horrid lyrics — evidence that pride and artistic virtue are absurdly close to becoming eBay fodder.
Willie Nelson, the braided, pot-smoking IRS-dodger, even fell into the Gap.
In 2002, he appeared in TV spots for the U.S. clothing company to, I think it’s safe to assume, everyone’s surprise. To make matters worse, this union is largely implausible.
Can anyone imagine the “Red-Headed Stranger” wearing sensible khakis and a crewneck sweater?
While corporate endorsements may broaden a band’s fan base and expose their music to people who would never hear of the group otherwise, this increased visibility doesn’t make up for the disappointed loyal fans who expected more.
But all may not be lost.
I take solace in the fact that at least one man refuses corporate money outright.
Canadian folk hero Neil Young even committed his principles to song: “Ain’t singin’ for Pepsi/ Ain’t singin’ for Coke/ Ain’t singin’ for nobody/ Makes me look like a joke.”
To me, he’s the only one who looks smart.