Christgau Fancy Word of the Day: Pastiche

One of several features I plan to add is the Christgau Word of the Day. (No, I don't plan on having a Christgau Word of the Day every day.)

The point of this feature is to find words, usually those classified by the less-literate as "S.A.T. words" (regardless of whether they would actually appear on an S.A.T. exam), that Christgau uses and which might be one reason his reviews infuriate so many people.

Today's word is pastiche.

Pastiche is a word that critics like to use because it's an elegant way of saying mess of ripped-off shit. It's also a way to say, "Look, you may make some people think that your work is original — Inuit child laborers, perhaps — but I know what you stole, and how poorly you stole it!"

Try using the word in your day-to-day interactions with the people you love:

Jill, that casserole you served me is an obvious pastiche of the stuff that falls onto the floor during an episode of Food Network's Worst Cooks in America!

Because most (all?) new music is influenced by the music that preceded it, it's not surprising that pastiche comes into play in a number of Christgau's reviews. The word appears some 58 times on his site, though there are several repeats (the same review might appear on its own, or with other reviews from the same artist, or with other reviews from the same date the review originally appeared).

There are two notable Christgau-uses of pastiche. 

The album cover is a pastiche of several deserts.

Gong, which I've never heard of, is a prog rock band (also called psychedelic and "space" rock) that's shuffled members in and out since 1967 and has released albums as recently as 2009. The 1975 album Shamal, which makes me wary because it consists of six tracks (and was produced by Pink Floyd's drummer), each ranging in length from more than five minutes to almost nine, received a Christgau review with a memorable use of pastiche:

Since the nicest melody on the second-nicest cut on this pastiche of pastiches, "Cat in Clark's Shoes," is lifted in a much inferior version from Thelonious Monk's "Brilliant Corners," I wonder where I can find the superior version of the theme of "Wingful of Eyes." B-

The second notable Christgau-use of pastiche is actually a pair of Christgau-uses of pastiche, and I don't mean another pastiche of pastiches:

Pastiche.

Pastiche.

I have heard of Kid Creole and the Coconuts, mainly for a single song (the band's biggest hit, "Endicott," off a later album) that used to play on heavy rotation on the non-MTV music shows that we'd occasionally see in the non-cable home where I grew up.

Pastiche would be an accurate way to describe the music cranked out by KC&TC, and the word is dropped into Christgau's reviews of both Fresh Fruit in Foreign Places (1981)...

When August Darnell kicks off his Caribbean extravaganza with a Foreigner power chord, or the Coconuts sing the I-Threes behind Andy Hernandez, or a JB riff sneaks into a tune called "Table Manners," I'm convinced that both words and music are witty enough to stand. But overwhelmed I'm not. Darnell's pastiche just isn't Stoney Browder's synthesis, and his campy sprechgesang just isn't Cory Daye's babes-on-Broadway razzmatazz. In short, his polyglot musical conception never gets the kind of translation that delves below the signifier. A-

...and Doppelganger (1983):

Counting his previous (and best) album [i.e., 1982's Wise Guy] some kind of sellout because it's held together by a dance groove, the Kid here returns to the musical comedy stage for yet another original-cast recording. As usual, the book exists only in his head, and the putative plot precis does little to clarify just what these songs are about. And I really want to know — the more closely I analyze the apparently surface wit of the Kid's lyrical-musical synthesis-pastiche, the more I wish I could see the show. A-

It's interesting that the music is considered pastiche, yet both albums receive an A-. Maybe not every pastiche is a bad thing.

Most enjoyable about the two reviews above is that last sentence in the first: "In short, his polyglot musical conception never gets the kind of translation that delves below the signifier." I'd love to use that in conversation sometime. (And polyglot is a great future Christgau Fancy Word of the Day.)

But enough about pastiches. This blog is probably a pastiche of some kind, even if I can't identify who I'm ripping off. If you have any ideas, let me know. Until then, enjoy these live versions of "Endicott." The first is from 1985 (check out the mid-80s haircuts on the ladies), when the song was a hit (and the live crowds were large):

The second is from 2009, when the crowd, the backup singers, and even the sound system are barely into it. But the nearly-60-year-old Kid still can sing while rocking a zoot suit and balero.