I've made no real secret of my fondness for the band Fountains of Wayne, who I've tracked ever since they showed up with the brain-invading Sink to the Bottom a few years back. In 1999, they followed it up with Utopia Parkway, for my money one of the best albums of pop music ever recorded. For a guy who kicked through his high school years listening to The Cars, Elvis Costello, and Tom Petty, Fountains of Wayne manages to hit a vibe that resonates with my nostalgia for an era where stripped-down rock returned while still sounding adventurous and new.
So, it's with some distress, that I clicked a link sent to me by my pal T-Dog which included the following quote from FoW lead vocalist and guitarist Chris Collingwood: "I can't wait for Madden '08, which isn't a gadget but a video game by EA sports wherein the Steelers get to kick the Browns's ass, over and over again. My idea of heaven."
Therein you have the crushing moment of realization when you realize one of your favorite artists is basically an unthinking Troglodyte.
My hand hovered over the Fountains of Wayne folder located in my hard drive as I pondered the loss of some great tunes in order to avoid supporting pure evil.
But then, I realized that all the greatest artists in history have some sort of horrible personality defect. TS Eliot was misanthropic, Vincent Van Gogh chopped off his ear, Emily Dickenson was a drag at parties, William Shakespeare was actually Christopher Marlowe, and Robert Frost was actually Robert Frost. All great artists whose personal issues stopped them from being well-rounded personalities with "management potential".
So why shouldn't it be acceptable that a talented artist have the horrific and tragic personality defect of Steelerfandom? This could be the nexxus of personal tragedy which helps to create great art, like being a mongoloid. Except worse, and smellier.
Somehow, I don't have myself convinced that this is tolerable yet. Is it time to delete that folder?