Rage Against the Mainstream: Part I

Scene one. Curtain up: Paul lounges on her used futon after a long, hard day of being condescending to strangers. Kicking up her feet and relaxing, she flips on her 12-inch vintage B&W television to watch The Tyra Show (strictly for the irony, of course). Enter Commercial Break. Paul turns the volume down, zones out and mumbles bitterly about consumerism and brainwashing while flipping through her second-hand copy of Alternative Press. Suddenly, her ears perk like a gazelle in the savanna, faintly sensing a predator off in the distance. Her senses become acute. Her eyes dart around the room before stopping to fixate themselves relentlessly upon the television. She jumps off the couch into a crouch and approaches cautiously. As she grows nearer, the faint disturbance she sensed grows clearer–nasal and vaguely off-key whining, poppy faux-punk guitar strumming. Her eyes grow wide in horror and she emits a scream that shakes the soul (or lack thereof) of every hipster in Williamsburg. This is what she saw:

My first thoughts were, “Is this some kind of joke? Who hired these aging hipster-wannabes to pose as a band!? Is it like some hokey, failed attempt at those IO Digital Cable commercials?” (At least the Digital Cable commercial had pirates.) But seriously. What’s with the red haired guy with the emo comb over? Was he supposed to be like that Panic! At the Disco kid, except old and with thinning hair? And who paid Wilson from House to stop eating, get a bad haircut, dress up like Green Day and lip sync to some inane jingle on a commercial? Okay, okay. So I concede that commercial jingles are sometimes tolerable–like the Free Credit Report one with the car guy.. or the singing pirates. Clearly, to pull off song commercials, you must feature pirates two-thirds of the time. This commercial just failed hard. But the most distressing realization of all was, “Wait! These guys are a legitimate band?!”

Yes. Yes, they are. Early Edison. I found them. I found their myspace. On said myspace, they declare:

Yeah, that’s us from the 1-800-OK-Cable ad… This is our third spot… we hope we brought a little sunshine and daisies into your life… that’s why we exist, that’s why we get paid the big bucks.

Seriously? Third spot?! You can’t list your subgenres as “Rock / Powerpop / Indie” and then brag about whoring yourselves out to 1-800-OK-Cable. Serious loss of indie cred. How does one live with oneself after composing, not one, not two, but three jingles about cable? I’ve managed to dig up one other, which, in my conceited opinion, is even more grating than the one currently on TV.

But alright, lots of great bands have been in commercials (albeit, not singing contrived powerpop homages to cable companies). Andrew Bird contributed instrumentals to Marriott. The One AM Radio is in a Pontiac commercial. The Walkmen provided some tunes for the Saturn Ion. So maybe these Early Edison guys could redeem themselves. Maybe if I gave their music a chance, I could forgive them for their nauseating cheesing at the camera, their wretched lyrics about Triple Play and their faux-hip style. Maybe. But, alas, after listening to one Fountains of Wayne / Green Day lovechild after the other, I just couldn’t find it within me to absolve them of their sins. Sorry, Early Edison.

I’ve seen the commercial just about over 9,000 times now, and every time I see it, I cannot maintain my usual coldly apathetic demeanor. I am overcome with haughty hipster rage–and I just needed to get it out. So thanks for tuning in to today’s edition of Rage Against the Mainstream. I hope you’ll join me again next time. Until then, don’t be a cog in the machine of society.

Disaffectedly yours,
Paul A. Ab-Dul