The Ween Of American Rock Critics: A Conversation with Steven Hyden
Steven Hyden stops by to talk about his recent book on "Born in the U.S.A." and all things music criticism.
I didn’t think there was anything else for me to learn about Born in the U.S.A. I’ve been insistently listening to and reading about the album for most of my life. In fact, when I found out I’d be interviewing Steven Hyden, one of my favorite writers, I thought about skipping his recent book on the album, There Was Nothing You Could Do: Bruce Springsteen’s “Born In The U.S.A.” and the End of the Heartland. I’m lucky I didn’t. As with all things he writes, Steven Hyden managed to show me so many things I didn’t know about the album.
All of Steven Hyden’s books are like this. He writes about Radiohead. Pearl Jam, music rivalries, and rock music generally in a way that nobody else does. In fact, I’m convinced Hyden is the only music critic who could make you laugh and cry in a matter of one sentence. Last week, we sat down for an hour to talk about his recent Springsteen book, the jam band universe, the future of music criticism, and why reporting on a Wisconsin Flag Day parade for six years made him the writer he is today.
Last month, I saw Bruce Springsteen perform on the beach at a festival in Asbury Park. Before his set he came on stage with The Gaslight Anthem and Trey Anastasio, respectively. This speaks to how widespread Springsteen’s influence is. But as a jam band lover, I want to know if you think he fits into the jam universe. When he came out with Trey they played “Kitty’s Back”, which is probably his most jammy song.
I don't know. The Wild, The Innocent, and The E Street Shuffle is the most jammy record that he's put out. And there's an element of his following that is jam-like. People going to every show. Collecting bootlegs. An obsession with live performance. I think the nature of his following is probably his biggest connection to the jam world. But as someone who is in that space, Bruce doesn't really seem to register there. I think with Trey, it really comes down to him being from New Jersey rather than Bruce fitting in aesthetically with other jam bands.
Are there any non-jam acts in the same pantheon as Bruce that you do think register in the jam world?
Neil Young fits a bit better because he is — for lack of a better term — hippie-coded. Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground share some overlap. Tom Petty is more hippie-coded, but he still doesn’t register in the jam space. It’s a small group.
There are many things that make you stand out as a critic but there are three things that always jump out at me beyond your general command of both the history of music and the English language. To illustrate that, I pulled some quotes of stuff that you’ve written. I’m going to read them back to you and then describe why I picked them. I’m hoping you can elucidate how these ideas contribute to your criticism. Does that sound good?
Sure.
First in your top albums of 2023 list, you take a few detours, one of which is listing 5 albums that you like the idea of more than the actual album. Here’s what you wrote in that section
Sub-List No. 1
MY TOP FIVE “I LOVE THE IDEA OF THIS ALBUM MORE THAN THE ACTUAL ALBUM” ALBUMS OF 2023
5. Dolly Parton, Rockstar
I listened to 45 seconds of her cover of “Stairway To Heaven” with Lizzo. It works much better as a thought experiment than as music.
4. Garth Brooks, Time Traveler
The record he put out as part of a seven-CD box set sold exclusively at Bass Pro Shops. As one of the only music critics in America who owns it, I am obligated to put it here.
3. Mac DeMarco, One Wayne G
If you have heard all 199 songs (or nine hours and 30 minutes) of this, I am calling the police so that they can remove the bookshelf that has fallen on top of you.
2. DJ Sabrina The Teenage DJ, Destiny
This four-hour album of throwback dance-pop jams sounds incredible … for about 45 minutes at a time. If my job consisted solely of listening to this record for an entire work week, it would be No. 1 on the overall list.
1. Andre 3000, New Blue Sun
The “I love the idea of this album more than the actual album” album of the decade, and possibly the century.
Many of these blurbs made me legitimately laugh out loud. In what ways do you think humor enhances your criticism?
When music writers talk about music writing, I feel like the one thing that never gets mentioned is that music writing should be entertaining. Writers talk about how we need to forward the conversation. We need to inform readers and counteract the algorithm. But if music writing is only about recommending music, then music writing is screwed because in the modern world music writing is the least efficient way to discover new artists. You have streaming platforms. You have TikTok. You have YouTube. You have your friend group. People read music writing because they like to read. And I think that's been true forever. At this point, I think it's more important than ever that music writing is actually enjoyable to read in order to justify its existence.
When I was a kid in the 1980s and 1990s, I was the only person in my friend group that read music magazines. All my friends liked music. They bought records. They went to concerts. But they weren't discovering music by reading Spin or Rolling Stone. They discovered music on MTV and from our friend group. I read music magazines because I was interested in music, but I was also interested in music writing. Today, the people that read music writing do it because they like experiencing music through someone else's perspective. For most people, they aren’t reading just for recommendations. Why read a record review at this point? It's so much easier to go on Spotify and find the playlist that aligns with the genres you like. You'll discover 10 records in like 30 minutes.
Frankly, I look at myself partially as an entertainer. When I picture someone reading my writing, I imagine a person on their lunch break who wants to have an enjoyable 15 minutes. If I can provide that to them and, along the way, help them discover some music, then I’m very happy. So much music writing is dry and boring and academic and humorless. It honestly amazes me that people still read music writing to be entertained at all. But I’m grateful that there are people who do. If not, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head or food to feed my family.
Second, in your book Twilight of the Gods, you spend some time at the beginning defining the temporal scope of classic rock. “Classic rock begins with Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” you write and “Classic rock ends with Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile.” This is a good example of the precision that is in your writing. Music criticism is often steeped in metaphors and vagueries. Do you think it is important to define things specifically?
I don’t think of myself as a particularly data-driven writer. There’s no science to music writing. I’m just trying to be as articulate as possible about things. And that’s hard when writing about music. The miracle of music is that it can convey so much emotion and truth in a non-linear, non-articulate way. People require so much coherence in all other forms of art. Like if people go see a movie and it doesn’t make sense, they get upset. At the same time, we routinely listen to songs that on paper are just a mishmash of words colliding into each other that you can’t describe in any real way. And that’s one of the great things about music. But as a critic I try to define things to make them make more sense.
Third, in your most recent book There Was Nothing You Could Do, you write the following near the end:
There’s a scenario in which Bruce Springsteen responds to the success of Born in the U.S.A. by making a record that tries to match that album’s popularity. Let’s return to 1992 for a moment. Imagine Bruce doesn’t make Human Touch or Lucky Town. Instead he writes a ton of twangy rockers in the mold of ‘Cadillac Ranch’ and ‘Darlington County.’ And, as he did with Born in the U.S.A., he follows current pop production trends so they sound a lot like ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’’ Rock radio is perplexed, though they aren’t interested in Bruce anyway, as most stations are now playing Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Metallica songs.”
Country radio, however, loves it. They play the hell out of the record. Bruce starts wearing a cowboy hat in public. He agrees to do a duet with Garth Brooks … and it’s another hit. Bruce plays the Grand Ole Opry. He buys a house in Nashville after his ersatz country record sells six million copies.
Your writing is filled with hypothetical scenarios that you entertain very honestly. Why do you think these imaginative scenarios are so illuminating?
As a writer, I think it’s important to have an element of fandom in your writing. And I think that hypothetical thinking is something all fans do even if they aren’t totally conscious of it. We’re always imagining alternate realities. What if my favorite band had done this? What if they didn’t break up?
In that particular passage, I also thought that that hypothetical was illuminating to how Bruce fit into music at that particular time when country music went mainstream and took over a lot of what rock music was providing a decade earlier. If Bruce embraced that, maybe he would have ended up like Darius Rucker. Rucker was the frontman of Hootie and the Blowfish, and then went full country 10 years later. As a critic, that alternate universe is a fun way to add context. It also allows me to deliver a serious idea in a way that’s very engaging and conversational. I never want to come off as if I’m pontificating or being pedantic.
I’m always curious how critics get into writing about music. How did it happen to you? Were you good in school? Were your parents into writing? Something else?
Beyond my mom liking romance novels, my parents definitely weren’t into reading or writing. I sort of lived in my own little world and never really told people I liked reading and writing about music. I had this realization a few years ago that as a kid my favorite thing to do was to sit in my room by myself and read about music and listen to the radio. I look at my life now, and I spend most of my day in my office by myself, writing about music and listening to music. I think I set up my life to just stay in that same place that I was when I was 13, which is either a beautiful thing or very sad.
What was your first music writing job?
I guess I started writing about music when I was 14 for my junior high newspaper. The following year, I had a column in the local paper. They had a teen column that went out every Wednesday. Most of those were about music, but I’d sometimes talk about politics, which I assume was insufferable. When I first started writing professionally, it was for daily papers and alt weeklies. I would write about music sometimes, but that wasn’t my main job. I was just a general assignment reporter. I’d cover car accidents, the Strawberry Festival in Waupaca, the local Christmas concert, and everything in between. Occasionally, some band would be coming to play in Milwaukee — like Robert Pollard from Guided by Voices — and I would get to interview them.
That’s pretty cool.
It was. I love Guided by Voices. After about 12 years, I ended up as the music editor at the AV Club, which was primarily a movies and television site. That was my first full-time music writing gig. Then I ended up doing a weekly music column at Grantland, which was primarily a sports site. I think that journey sets me apart. Most of my colleagues had come up writing at Spin or Pitchfork or the Village Voice. Of course, I’ve written for many music publications over the years, but I always enjoyed writing for publications where music was just one piece of it. Someone might come to Grantland to read about the Super Bowl and stumble on my column about a random indie rock band. That gave me a wider audience.
Also, when you write for publications that aren’t dedicated completely to music, you don’t have to follow an institutional voice. For example, if you work for Pitchfork and review a record, you're reviewing it on behalf of Pitchfork. You were chosen to write that review because your opinion of the record happens to align with the opinions of the editors of the site. They're the ones who ultimately give the score to the album. Because of my career path, I've always been able to write as myself. I think that was tremendously beneficial to me in terms of establishing my own identity as a writer. And I mean that with no shade to people who have written for Pitchfork. I’ve written there. But I think working there makes it harder to step outside their brand and show the audience who you are.
Do you think that experience you had early in your career of being a general reporter had a positive influence on your ability to write about music today?
Absolutely. I'm so grateful to have that experience. I think about those years like The Karate Kid. If you've seen the movie, Daniel goes to Mr. Miyagi to learn about karate, but instead of teaching a standard karate lesson, Mr. Miyagi has Daniel paint the fence and wash cars and do all these menial tasks. At some point, Daniel is like, “What the fuck? Are you gonna teach me karate?” Then Mr. Miyagi shows him that all the motions that he was doing during those chores were the karate motions.
Working as a general assignment reporter was like that. I may have been writing about things I didn’t care about, but it taught me discipline and work ethic. You can’t just wait around for inspiration. It’s your job to manufacture inspiration. That’s a big part of any profession. If you’re young and writing about stuff you love, it’s all about the subject rather than the craft. When you have to write about the local Flag Day parade for six years, it’s all craft. I don’t give a shit about the Flag Day parade. In order to make writing about it interesting, I’d experiment with the lede or how I used quotes. By the time I started writing about things I actually cared for, the lessons were already embedded.
You do seem to write books about artists you have a personal connection with, like Pearl Jam, Radiohead, The Black Crowes, and Springsteen. Is some level of fandom necessary to write about an artist? Or can you write about something you’re only lukewarm on?
If you’re writing a book, I think you have to have some level of affection for the subject. Writing a book is hard. You need to have some affection to spend that much time on something. (I guess you could write about something you hate, though.)
I view my books as cultural criticism rather than standard biographies. And I want it to come across that I am generally interested in these subjects and am writing about my perspective. Of course, there is some biographical information that creeps in, but I think there is a distinction between my book about Born in the U.S.A. and Warren Zanes’ recent book about Nebraska. The Zanes book is really good. Springsteen was directly involved with it. He was interviewed for it. There were probably certain parts of my book where it would have been nice to have Bruce’s input, but by doing it without him, I have complete editorial control. Sometimes if you rely on access to a subject, you need to come across a certain way. That would be hard for me.
Relatedly, the Black Crowes book you wrote was in conjunction with Steve Gorman, the drummer in the band. In what way was that writing experience different than just writing by yourself?
That book was really fun to do. Steve and I have known each other for a long time. So, it wasn't like I was hired and I didn't know him. That book was all about getting Steve out there, having him tell his story, and me being as invisible as possible. That was important to me. My role was more like a record producer. Steve had a million stories about how horrible Chris Robinson was, and I had to help him find the ones that were most interesting. He had enough stories to write multiple books. The challenge for me was helping him find the narrative. I was in the background. He was the leading man.
Would you go through that experience again if you were approached by a different artist?
Possibly. But I inject myself into most of my work. Some people like that. Other people don’t. If you go on GoodReads, you’ll find plenty of people that hate that approach.
Do you pay attention to how people react to the things that you write?
Of course. You can't avoid it. When I was at the AV Club, the publication had a very active comment section. It was an infamously venomous place, but there was this feeling that you had to read it. You couldn’t live in a bubble. You had to be aware of what people were saying. A lot of writers try to block that stuff out now. My problem is that I’m addicted to Twitter, so I bring it on myself a lot of times.
What are the biggest changes you’ve seen in music criticism throughout your career?
I've been working in media almost 25 years, and I would say that one of the overarching narratives of that period is that institutions are getting weaker and some individual voices are getting stronger. The idea of getting a job at some legacy publication doesn’t seem as tenable as when I started. You can break through on TikTok or YouTube or Substack or wherever. That’s very positive for some individual voices. The downside is that there's this huge crop of people that are part of the infrastructure of media — like editors and proofreaders and factcheckers — who are losing out because they aren’t “brandable.” That’s a shame because those are people who make publications great.
It’s also just strange because in the past publications would always come and go. But when things died, other stuff was always being reborn. Now, it sometimes feels like things die and then nothing emerges in its wake. The world of Conde Nast renting out office space in the World Trade Center not only seems to be a thing of the past but just ridiculous in general. The rent alone is a colossal waste of money just to stoke the egos of Anna Wintour and a bunch of editors who won’t be there much longer. You can’t function in media like that right now.
Are you interested in or inspired by any of these writer-owned publications that have cropped up, like 404Media and HellGate?
I think it depends on if those publications are giving people something they can’t get elsewhere. There’s this strange trend where publications try to present themselves like a nonprofit charity. Like the whole pitch is you should pay to support media. I agree with that in principle, but it’s a crappy sales pitch to an audience. I don’t buy a movie ticket because I want to support Hollywood. I buy a movie ticket because the movie looks interesting or entertaining. No matter how small an operation is, if you aren’t giving readers something entertaining or informative, it doesn’t matter.
I want to close with two more questions about your writing specifically. First, you’ve done quite well writing lists. Stuff like ranking every Tom Petty album or every Oasis song. For a good stretch of the 2010s, I feel like listicles were maligned as the lowest form of journalism. You’ve turned them into these very deep meditations on essential artists. What is your take on the listicle?
Here's the thing about lists: It’s a dumb format that works well on the internet. I think of it like writing a hit song. You can have the best musicians and an expensive studio, but it’s all irrelevant without a hook that sticks in people’s brains. I feel like that’s somewhat analogous to lists on the internet. I could write a 10,000-word essay on an artist and some people might read it, but even more people would look at it and think it’s too much to read on a lunch break. It’s just too intimidating. But if you put a number before every fourth paragraph in that essay, you can write the same number of words and it becomes both irresistible and digestible to people.
There's just this Pavlovian thing with lists where people suddenly care so much more. I’ll get messages like, “How could you rank that Tom Petty song 34th? It’s clearly his 19th best song.” Do I really know the difference between someone's 34th best song and their like 28th best song? No. But it’s a good vehicle for delivering music criticism in a fun and engaging way.
You have this concept on Twitter about a “patio album hall of fame.” It includes stuff like The Band’s self-titled album and Jason Isbell’s Weathervanes and Steely Dan’s Gaucho and so much more. What exactly defines a hall of fame patio album?
People always ask me this question, and it makes me feel bad because I understand that I'm a music critic and I ought to have well defined criteria for whatever it is I'm proclaiming to the world. But the truth of the matter is that the only qualification is that I'm on my patio and I'm listening to that album and I'm enjoying it. That’s really it. Usually, I'm hanging out with my wife, having a cocktail after work, and feeling good. I'm so flattered that people care about it, though. But there’s not really any ideology behind it.
To close out, what will Steven Hyden be up to in the next year?
I’m working on a big project that I can’t really say much about right now. But if you’ve enjoyed my books in the past, I think it’s something else that you will likely enjoy.
Want more from Steven Hyden? Follow him on Twitter, check out his latest column on UPROXX, and pick up a copy of one of his fantastic books.
Want more from Chris Dalla Riva? Pre-order his debut book, Uncharted Territory: What Numbers Tell Us about the Biggest Hit Songs and Ourselves.
