Fame in popular culture is a predominantly
fleeting and transitory circumstance. Whether it is over the course of a year
or over the course of a generation, the passing of time inexorably brings about
the process of change. Likewise, to be cool is also to be inherently
impermanent, as the discovery of someone, something, or somewhere as cool by
default makes it uncool. There is one exception to this paradox: the
establishment of an icon. To be iconographic is to transcend the ephemeral
nature of stardom and the impossible confinements of cool. Of course, this is
something that almost every celebrity aspires to, but rarely any celebrity
achieves. The Beatles are perhaps the most notable example of a band that has
reached, and will always remain in, the stratosphere of cool. As the first
musical group in the history of mass entertainment to become iconographic, the
Beatles laid the precedent for what it takes to actually make it in a world in
which nobody ever does.
As the first
of their kind, the challenges and successes of the Beatles can be perceived in almost
all bands, both real and fictional, since their formation in 1960. Cameron
Crowe’s turn of the twenty first century film Almost Famous is no different. Chronicling the story of a wannabe
teenage journalist who tours with a small-town band named Stillwater on the
edge of stardom, the film describes the same emotional dynamics and artistic
decisions that the Beatles faced. More specifically, the film explores how, within
the formation of an icon, there must exist a conscious manufacturing of fame,
and within this manufacturing of fame exists the industry of cool. Using
real-life examples from the Beatles and fictional examples from the film, this post will examine the delicate balance between achieving iconographic fame and
remaining to be cool.
To explore
the relationship between icons, fame and the industry of cool it is best to move
backwards. Almost Famous does a good
job at dissecting the conventions of being cool, and through the film, one is
able to understand the paradoxical nature of cool and how it relates to rock
and roll. When Penny Lane, the band’s number one fan and muse, is driving William,
the aspiring journalist, to the hotel where the band is staying, she explains,
Every band stays here, all the ones that matter. The Who.
Zeppelin. Alice. Bowie. English bands. American bands. We all know each other.
Like us, they were all outsiders. They were so outside, they’re inside,
and insiders never even knew it, because they’re outsiders and they are inside
a place outsiders will never be. And
why are we even talking about it? If you’re really an insider, you’re never
gonna say it. You know what I mean? (Crowe 50)
As Penny so easily explains, being on the inside, which is
essentially synonymous with being cool, is being what you are not and not having
to try to be what you are. If the people on the inside knew they were on the
inside, then they would no longer be cool. If the people on the outside did not
know they were on the outside, then they would be cool. The conundrum lies
within the notion that being cool should be effortless. The reason that being
cool is so impossible to attain is because the second you try to attain it, or
even realize that you embody it, you are losing it altogether.
The Beatles’
reaction to their rise to fame exemplifies this enigma. They introduced the
notion of “cool” to American youth culture in their complete and utter
indifference towards the chaos that was Beatlemania. As Jonathon Gould writes
in his biography of the Beatles, “If there was one perception that bridged the
gap between teenage and adult appreciation of the Beatles, it concerned the
detachment and amusement (“that certain hip self-mickey talking”) the group
exhibited towards the subject of their own success” (Gould 170). The Beatles
did not care about their celebrity or the way in which the world perceived
them, all they cared about was the idea of themselves as musicians and
performers. The film director, Richard Lester, describes this indifference as
something similar to anarchy: “the quality of confidence that the boys exuded!
Confidence that they could dress as they liked, speak as they liked, talk to
the Queen as they liked…And this has been their great strength” (170). The
Beatles played into the industry of cool with their strong sense of
self-mockery and “reflexive self-depravation” (171). Gould states that the more
“cavalier the Beatle’s became about the four ‘fantastic beings’ at the center
of Beatlemania, the more fantastic they became in the eyes of their teenage
fans” (172). They were on the inside, and they couldn’t have cared less. As
John Lennon put it, “we just don’t take anything seriously” (171). If being
cool was being effortless, then the Beatle’s started off their careers on
exactly the right foot.
Almost Famous addresses this attitude
throughout the film. The indifference that the Beatles displayed towards their
celebrity and the value they put on their careers as musicians can especially
be seen in the lead guitarist for Stillwater, Russell Hammond. In the beginning
of his stardom, Russell makes his intentions about being a musician adamantly
clear. During an interview backstage after one of their shows, Russell
explains,
Russel: …and it’s okay,
because rock and roll is a lifestyle…and
a way of thinking and it’s not about the money and ‘popularity’!
Jeff: Some money
would be nice.
Russel: —but it’s a voice that says here I am… and FUCK YOU if you can’t understand me. And one of
those people is going to save the world and that means that rock and roll can save the world – all
of us together.
Jeff: and the chicks are great.
Russel: But we didn’t do it for that! We are here because we
needed to fuckin’ be here, not just ‘cause we needed to get away from Troy,
Michigan, which we did…but what it
all comes down to is that Thing. The
Indefinable Thing, when people catch something from your music, the thing you
put into it. I’m talking about…what am I talking about?
William: The buzz?
Russel: THE BUZZ! And the chicks, the whatever, is an
off-shoot of the buzz. (Crowe 37)
One of the biggest challenges that bands face, and that
Stillwater ends up confronting later on in the film, is getting distracted by
“money” and “popularity” and losing sight of their roles as musicians. In this
scene, Russell is vigilantly aware of his responsibilities to his fans. His
lack of concern towards the people that don’t understand him, his honest belief
that rock and roll can save the world, and his understanding of that
“Indefinable Thing” that happens when people catch something from a piece of
music, epitomizes the paradigm of cool that the Beatles had established exactly
one decade earlier. “Don’t forget that music is a part of our lives.” John
Lennon once told a reporter, “We played it because we loved doing it” (Gould 172).
Like the Beatles, Russell understands his role as a performer and is not afraid
to counter the press’ desire to treat his music as secondary to his appeal.
Thus, to
remain within the very delicate perimeters of cool ultimately boils down to the
manufacturing of fame. It is true that towards the end of their career the
Beatles struggled with dividing the rights to their music and splitting up
their monetary assets, yet throughout the ten years they were making and
performing music, the Beatles always remained true to themselves—a testimony to
a genuine love for what they did and to the people that managed them. Gould
states,
Even as significant numbers of readers, viewers, and listeners
found themselves drawn to unexpectedly appealing qualities in the Beatles’
music and their public personalities, they assumed that somewhere, somehow, the
group’s fame was being expertly manufactured, and that their principle talent
lay not in their ability as musicians and performers, but rather in their
ability as celebrities to command the attention of the press and the public.
(162)
The Beatles were in charge the attention that they received
and they excelled as musicians because they manufactured their own fame. While
they were certainly counseled by Brian Epstein, their manager, and George
Martin, their producer, it was John, Paul, George and Ringo who were in command
of the decisions they made. In fact, the relationships that the Beatles had
with their manager and producer were seen as much of a collaboration, as
opposed to an executive oversight, as they had with one another. In comparison to
most pop managers at the time, Epstein did not attempt to mold the Beatles’
personalities, or their musical decisions, in any real way. Aside from
insisting on a change in their physical appearances at the beginning of their
careers, which ultimately proved to be favorable as “the tension generated by
the contrast between how they looked and how they spoke and behaved” was able
to “play itself out on a grand scale” (in turn magnifying their impossibly
cultivated sense of cool), Brian Epstein contributed very little “managerial cunning”
to the Beatles success (163). Likewise, George Martin was seen less as a
supervisor and more as a partner in terms of his contributions to the Beatles’
music. He often only suggested simple improvements, “telling them when they
were singing or playing out of tune, selecting the songs to be released as
singles, and sequencing the tracks on the albums.” The relationship between the
Beatles and their managers shows that, in order to exist indelibly within the
fleeting industry of cool, it is imperative that musicians stay true to their
roots, and in order for them to do so, they are the ones that should to be
making the judgment calls. The Beatles fame was expertly manufactured, both by
themselves and by their advisors, who intuitively understood this.
Unlike the
Beatles, Stillwater eventually loses sight of their roots, and as a result,
they also lose their aura of cool and that certain “Indefinable Thing” that
Russell believed in so deeply at the beginning of the film. The manufacturing
of their fame goes awry when they decide to replace their original manager with
a “big time” manager that the record company sent in. When Russell points out
that they already have a manager who has been with them since the beginning,
the new manager, Dennis, replies, “Respectfully. We all have our roots. I
believe in bands holding onto their roots. But those roots need to be
augmented” (Crowe 131). Dennis goes on to explain that the band owes the record
company more money they’ve got, but that the record is selling and there is
money to made. Russell, still not convinced, passionately shouts, “Hey, man, it’s not about the money! It’s
about playing music, and turning people on!” to which Dennis replies,
“Yes, of course. Clearly. Respectfully.
But on the distasteful subject of money. Just know. You’re making it – right now – and it’s all out there. I’m just talking about bringing
it back here…Because as much as you
may believe that it will last forever, it does not last forever…your biggest
fan right now – soon they’re going to go to college, gonna wanna buy
clothes, spend that money some other way, and you know what? They’ll tape your record from a friend’s
copy. You’ve got to take what you can, when you can, while you can. And you’ve got to do it now. That’s what the big boys do. (133)
The decision that Stillwater is faced with in this moment is
a complicated one that all musicians face at one time or another in their
careers. The way in which Dennis describes their situation does not leave them
with many options: either they sell out and make more money or they stay true
to themselves and possibly end up broke. As is expected, Stillwater ends up
choosing the prior and dropping their original manager. Almost Famous is a powerful example of what happens when the
prospect of wealth blinds a band and they lose sight of their purpose as
entertainers. Dennis changes the entire dynamic between Russell and his
band-mates, which ultimately causes a schism among the group. The minute they
sell themselves out to appease the record company, it is instantly clear that
they are no longer a part of the industry of cool. This becomes even more
obvious when William publishes his article on the band. He is unmercifully
honest about the people they have become, and after reading the piece, the lead
singer Jeff is in disbelief about their reputation,
Jeff: We come off like amateurs…some average band…trying to
come to grips, jealous and fighting and breaking up—we’re buffoons!
Russell: Maybe we just don’t see ourselves the way we really
are.
Jeff: Is it that hard to make us look cool? (173)
Jeff’s reaction to William’s article illustrates how
misunderstood the industry of cool is to the people that are desperately
seeking to attain it. He does not understand the innate truth that being cool
is not something you can forge through a magazine article or a string of
well-done shows. In fact, the manufacturing of their fame went wrong when they
assumed the opposite to be true. Russell’s response in this scene comes as a
breakthrough for his character. Unlike Jeff, he is aware that being cool is not
something that you can fabricate, but rather, is something that you unintentionally
possess. Stillwater’s transition from a band devoted to their music and fans to
one distracted by the prospect of wealth and fame is symbolized in the film
through the replacement of their beloved tour bus, “Doris.” Dennis insists that
they travel on a plane to play more shows and make up for lost time, and even
though Doris is “the soul of this band” and has “been [their] home since the
beginning” as Jeff claims, they all agree. The switch from touring on a bus,
which can be traced back to their roots as a small town band, to something as
commercial as an airplane, is representative of their transformation.
Lester Bangs, editor of Creem Magazine and William’s mentor, describes Stillwater in these
circumstances as a “mid-level band struggling with their own limitations in the
harsh face of stardom” (114). The band is an example of how the prospect of
becoming an icon can be a double-edged sword. After all, the idea of attaining
the iconographic magnitude that bands, like the Beatles, did before them was
what ultimately did Stillwater in. Dennis’ threatening remark that one day Stillwater’s
fans are going to grow up and abandon their music convinced them to relent to
his changes, and rightly so. What they did not realize, however, was that by
doing so, they ended up sacrificing all they had going for them in the first
place.
Examining the Beatles career in the context
of this film establishes their success as all the more remarkable. It
emphasizes that the delicate balance between achieving iconographic fame and remaining
to be cool is something that very few musicians have ever achieved. The term
“iconography” was originally used in art history to describe sets of visual
conventions. For example, rule books would give advice on how to best encode
the Christian doctrine of figures, such as the Virgin Mary, in the appropriate
use of color, gesture and facial expression (Buckley 1). While the notion of
being an icon has certainly come a long way since its original use—encompassing
attitudes, beliefs, and experiences in addition to just visual images—the
Beatles upheld the original definition as the various visual appearances they
embodied throughout their career continue to have a weight in our culture
today. In his article on the subject, David Buckley asserts that iconography
can gain power through changelessness, but that for pop performers to become
pop icons, the clichéd nature of pop iconography has to be transcended through
change. He uses the Beatles as an example, explaining how their iconography
“moved from the leather-clad existentialism of the Hamburg days, through the
mop-topped besuited light entertainment of the early Epstein years, to the
bearded and beaded hippy mysticism of the late 1960s.” Each one of these phases
“touched upon a variety of strands within popular culture” and “reflected [its]
Zeitgeist” (2). Their album covers
carry a heavy sense of iconography as well, even for the younger generations.
The visual vocabulary of the album sleeves—from the black and white Meet The Beatles and the colorful Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
(self-reflexively iconic in its own right) to the theologically alluding Abbey Road—remain to be a staple of
popular culture fifty years after their release.
Yet, the
Beatles have become iconic in so much more than just their visual image. As a
band, they represent a particular set of attitudes and beliefs with which they
have become synonymous. While their demise ended on a rather bitter note, the
message they conveyed through their music was clear: to spread the love. The
Beatles remain to be a symbol for peace and their enduring message lives on in
their songs. Phrases like “Let it be,” “Here Comes the Sun,” and “All You Need
Is Love” can be considered something that resembles a proverb in todays age. In
2010, the Global Peace Initiative, an American arts organization dedicated to
creating peace monuments around the world, even commissioned a sculpture in
Liverpool dedicated to John Lennon, known as the European Peace Monument. As
Jerry Goldman, manager of The Beatles Story, stated at the unveiling, “Lennon’s message of peace is timeless and is
one that is now more relevant than ever” (The Beatles Story). The Beatles, as
icons, were able to transcend their literal existence and become symbols for
deeper levels of thinking. Their iconography certainly defined pop culture, but
pop culture did not to define them. Once described by Richard Hamilton as
“Popular (designed for a mass audience). Transient (short-term solution). Expendable
(easily forgotten),” pop culture embodies the very impermanence that the
industry of cool maintains (Gould 99).
Yet the Beatles, while designed for a mass audience, were anything but
transient or expendable. Despite the fact that the manufacturing of fame in pop
culture is often commodified, the Beatles were somehow able to make it their
own. Their approach towards fame allowed them to break free from the mold that
musicians had set and it ultimately became a pivotal part of their iconic
status. Through their innate understanding of the industry of cool and the
manufacturing of fame, they were able to transcend the parameters of pop stardom.
Both the film, Almost
Famous, and the Beatles’ illustrious career explore how, within the
formation of an icon, there must exist a conscious manufacturing of
fame, and within this manufacturing of fame exists the industry of cool. The
film in particular emphasizes the near-impossible balance that exists between
achieving iconography and remaining to be cool. The title itself is a
commentary on this relationship. To be
famous for a year, or even for a decade, is to not be truly famous; it is to be
almost famous. True fame is becoming iconic. True fame is the Beatles. Year
after year, decade after decade, new generations continue to experience their
own distinct version of “the sense of revelation that first gripped a
generation of British and American adolescents in the fall of 1963 and the
winter of 1964,” while the past generation continues “to experience the
Beatles’ music as an enriching and benevolent force in their lives” (Gould 9).
To this day, the Beatles’ are regarded as the greatest rock and roll band to
ever exist. More than five decades since their start, the Fab Four is still
cool.
