Music industry is drunk on brand names
By Jake Ayres
May 11, 2009 10:19 p.m.
If you ever want to be outraged, listen to the radio.
Because I don’t have a very reliable iPod hookup in my car, I end up listening to FM radio more often than a self-respecting 20-year-old should. And thanks to Power 106 (which is actually 105.9 on the dial ““ I guess Power 105 was taken, and they have a rounding up policy), I’m usually fairly entertained with the mostly homogeneous club rap that clogs the airwaves.
But Sunday, while driving home for Mom’s Day, was an exception. A song came on by a group I had never heard of before ““ Paradiso Girls ““ called “Patron Tequila.” The chorus goes, over a pounding electronic pop beat, something like this: “I’m on Patrón tequila / I’m drunk on margaritas / That Patrón tequila / Me and my mamacita / Hey girl / Where’s your drink? / We goin’ all get real drunk tonight.”
I almost crashed into the abutment underneath Jamboree Road while trying to hold down my vomit.
Aside from the questionable morality of a song about getting wasted on expensive tequila that is targeted toward teen girls (not that there’s anything wrong with that, because “Girls Gone Wild” made it a part of the American dream), the real problem with this song is the brand-name-dropping.
The inclusion of brand names has been a huge part of hip-hop music since the dawn of the gangster rap era, and in this case, by extension, pop music as well.
Ever since it became possible for rappers to become absolute superstars, the focus of hip-hop songs alternately swings between grim ghetto realities and Scarface mansion fantasies of conspicuous consumption.
Biggie drops six brand names in “Juicy” alone and seven in the “One More Chance (Remix).” Since then it’s gotten even more out of hand, with constant references to cars (Lexus, Hummer, Rolls Royce), alcohol (Alizé, Patrón, Grey Goose, Hennessy) and clothes (Versace, Gucci, Louis Vuitton). In fact, in a song about the election of President Barack Obama, consummate hustler Young Jeezy just wouldn’t feel comfortable without including a line about his whip: “My president is black, my Lambo’s blue.”
Although this form of raw stuntery is clearly commonplace, Paradiso Girls’ new song is a new breed of corporate slavery. In mostly all of the other popular songs with brand names, the references to those names are merely made in passing; they are individual elements in a song with the larger message of being filthy rich.
“Patron Tequila,” on the other hand, is based entirely around the praise and consumption of that brand of tequila. It’s practically a pre-written ad for Patrón, as if they weren’t getting enough play from rappers.
And that’s why I’m outraged. My fragile, impressionable, pile-of-oatmeal brain is already influenced enough by the passing references to Patrón in rap songs. It’s at the point where I can’t turn down a shot of it if it’s given to me ““ which has caused problems in the past. And now, not only is someone telling me that they drink it, but a group of five hot women is telling me how great Patrón is.
It’s times like these when I start to believe the paranoid conspiracy theories that surround the entertainment industry, in which elite interests in the media control all aspects of what receives record label funding and therefore becomes popular. It seems like these theories are possible in the case of Paradiso Girls.
A group of five beautiful girls no one has ever heard of comes out of the woodwork with no prior music and immediately gets a song on Power 106. These aren’t rappers who made their bones touring dirty clubs in Shreveport and Mobile ““ these girls materialized out of the ether.
I was not surprised to find that this group was organized by the same woman who put together the Pussycat Dolls, a micromanaged supergroup.
I guess I shouldn’t be scandalized by a prefabricated musical group. Those have been around since the Monkees and the Archies, which also belong to the subgenre of imaginary band.
And I also shouldn’t be scandalized by a song based around a brand, which can be traced back to the Beach Boys’ “Little Honda.” But that seems so much more innocent and endorses a product I’m likely to put more thought into buying than alcohol.
However, when brand names and prefabricated groups collide, it gets a little weird. The potential for corporate tomfoolery is increased to the point where it sounds like The Patrón Spirits Company underwrote Paradiso Girls’ new song.
And on top of that, the sadder truth is that the songs are almost devoid of meaning now. It seems that the group was specifically chosen to appeal to a wide audience to make money for the label.
But in all seriousness, what’s the point of listening to a group that doesn’t write its own songs and insists on performing what amounts to a three-and-a-half-minute booze commercial? It’s Huxley’s worst nightmare: mass production and consumer culture applied to popular music.
At least I believe Lady Gaga when she says she likes to dance.
If you like to choose what type of alcohol to blow your money on without interference from the radio, e-mail Ayres at [email protected].
