But maybe this is all normal. Maybe what we grew accustomed to in recent decades was an aberration. After all, the economic growth America witnessed from 1950-2000 was basically unprecedented. And for most of our history, newspapers were essentially partisan rags and politicians played pretty dirty, using political machines and voter fraud to climb to power. As for the arts, our nation has never been known as an artistic hotbed. The number of historically great American artists is downright embarrassing when one considers the size of our nation.
Let's take the last problem. It seems that the 1960s and 1970s in particular are revered as a golden age for American entertainment. I always resist such nostalgia--usually those who indulge in it are just unwilling to seek out the many great artists working today. But the fact that they have to be sought out does say something. It seems clear that talented artists, particularly musicians and filmmakers, got a lot more exposure in these decades. They also got a lot more money for their projects, which often allowed them to make much grander works.
But why was this? Was the Baby Boomer generation really this much more gifted than the rest of us? Were they really so much better at appreciating talent than other generations?
There were two opposing forces at work for the Boomer generation. First, they grew up in relative comfort. Having endured the Depression and World War II, their parents were not messing around. They took advantage of the opportunities offered by the GI Bill to create safe, stable homes for their kids. And their diligence paid off: the war left America as the economic growth engine for the world. Born with all these advantages, the Boomers were better off than any other generation of youth in history.
But while the Boomers had all they wanted, they could not do all they wanted. They were expected to follow in the footsteps of their parents. (Consider: in 1920, women received 20 percent of all Ph.Ds. By 1963, that number had dropped to 9 percent.) But because they didn't have to suffer through the Depression, they didn't understand why they had to get the same old boring jobs and follow the same old boring rules. They took material comfort for granted--America was now prosperous enough that they could--and started pursuing happiness with abandon. Why couldn't women and minorities have equal rights? Why couldn't people have sex with whoever they wanted? Why couldn't they take drugs whenever they wanted? (Some of their causes were more just than others.) The fact that the government started forcing young men to fight in a pointless war only added to their questioning of authority.
All of this unrest spilled over into pop culture. Why did a pop song have to be three minutes long? Why did a movie have to have a wholesome and good protagonist? Why couldn't music be more intelligent and indulgent than the Dave Clark Five? Why couldn't movies be just as experimental as any other art form? Listening to Hendrix and watching "Bonnie and Clyde" became another form of protest for the Boomers. And record labels and movie studios had no choice but to respond, since young adults have no kids, no mortgages, and therefore plenty of disposable income.
It was all fun while it lasted. But by the late 1970s, the party was over. The Boomers began to fall in line. They realized that making a buck wasn't so bad. They also clung to the art of their youth, as every generation does. (In fact, the late 1970s are a perfect example of our predicament today. This era was filled with great bands, from the Talking Heads to the Clash to Joy Division, that most Americans don't know anything about.)
Meanwhile, with the economy sleepwalking (thanks to some overzealous government policies and a couple of oil crises), corporations were becoming more cutthroat. Merging and union busting became the trendy management techniques--they still are to this day. Mergers were particularly harmful to artists. Radio station playlists were programmed to within an inch of their life, preventing any breakthroughs by bands without corporate sponsorship. Movie studios were taken over by men who knew nothing about filmmaking, resulting in crap like "Top Gun."
And now here we are. We still have tons of great artists. But bands like Spoon and the Arcade Fire, which should be hailed across the nation as Great American Bands, are unknown to most of the country. Talented directors struggle to drum up money for the expensive filmmaking process. (It took Derek Cianfrance seven years to secure financing for "Blue Valentine." The movie eventually earned back its budget ninefold.) And so most people consume variations on the same themes: Auto-Tuned divas, mindless rom-coms, "CSI: Albuquerque." This shouldn't be surprising. But it's still more than a little sad.
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