according to Marx, because of the fundamentally exploitive nature of the capitalist system (one of Marx’s greatest insights is that the cause of exploitation is not first of all that there are bad, oppressive people running things, but instead that there is a social system based on exploitation)—so does the possibility of an explosion of protest, rebellion, and even revolution against this system. Such movements must aim, ultimately, to achieve a global community of mutual flourishing (this is what I mean by “communism,” with a small “c”, or what I sometimes also call “radical communitarianism.”) Such movements must not aim to simply replace those who are at present the beneficiaries of the machinery of exploitation.
In its best moments, this immense collective transformation is what the sixties and its cultural expressions were all about. What is overwhelmingly obvious is that such a transformation did not occur—though, significantly, many of the expressions of the possibility of such a transformation have been extraordinarily difficult for the system to bury, despite an equally extraordinary effort to do this. What has worked best for the system is to recuperate elements of the sixties as mere fashion (though even this strategy of cynicism has its dangers—I would identify the whole area of sex and gender as especially rich with possibilities). Likewise, progressive rock, at its best, is also an expression of this utopian, radical, and transformative spirit—even if not in a straightforward “political” way, at least as that term is often understood (or misunderstood). In fact, this is all to the good, because therein lies progressive rock’s potential staying power and relevance to a time of pervasive cynicism.
But why get into these questions here, in a book about progressive rock—or even in a book about any kind of music or art? I do reject purely “political” readings of artists and works, of the sort one gets from critics of a more sociological bent (such as they are—and they are a motley group, from the boorish to the insightful, from Lester Bangs to Greil Marcus or Dick Hebdige). If music is simply a matter of the “political statement” it makes, what is the point of it as music? In other words, why not just cut to the chase and put out the pamphlet or flyer? “Political statement” music, by the way, is sometimes called “agit-prop” (“agitation and propaganda”) art, and it is certainly the case that a good deal of this has been generated under the heading of one or another formulation of “Marxism,” or under the heading of a “worker’s movement” or even “power to the people.” My view is that, if any of this agit-prop music turns out to be “good,” it is primarily good for what it primarily is, namely agitation and propaganda. (Incidentally, I would not put some of the better punk music under this heading, as some who reject the sociological reading of music tend to do.)
On the other hand, I also reject purely formalistic analyses of art, which attempt (though they can never succeed, in my view) to see works as not being grounded in any historical, social, cultural, or political context. If a work of art has any significance (indeed, if anything has any significance), it must be in terms of some context (or set of contexts) and its relation to this context.
My guess is that the basic issue here is one that is close to the hearts of people who love progressive rock music: What is music (or art more generally), fundamentally? It seems to me that there are two basic possibilities: either music is fundamentally entertainment, or music is something capable (at its best) of speaking to the human spirit and the human condition. I’ll wager that folks who love progressive rock music are attracted to it because it speaks to the soul and to deep and significant human possibilities.
This is not to say that progressive rock cannot be entertaining as well, even if perhaps on a quite different level than what we expect from most “entertainment music.” Perhaps one way to put it is that there are kinds of entertainment that can be fulfilling and that can generate the deeper happiness that I mentioned earlier. There are other kinds of entertainment that are the equivalent of junk food or perhaps a mildly pleasant sensation or even a more intense giddiness, but one that has no lasting value. Indeed, it is because progressive rock is not readily consumable in the terms of our giddy junk-food society that the rock music establishment has largely rejected it.
Great music is able to speak to the soul, I think, because it offers (or perhaps “conjures,” in a truly magical way) the possibility of a different world. When this is done with intensity and vision and skill, as it is in the best of progressive rock music, the gesture is a profound one, a radical affirmation of human possibility. Such a gesture is more deeply “political” than much of what ordinarily goes under this heading—which, again, is not to say that there is any kind of straightforward “swap” possible (or desirable) between art that has this utopian dimension and the other things needed to deal with reshaping our world, e.g., political theories, movements, activism. (There is also an art of radical negation, which I think is also necessary for social transformation. In my book about Yes, I deal with this under the heading of what I call “the YesPistols question,” pp. 185–90.)
I hope that it is clear that I am a rather unorthodox Marxist. Although I believe that there is a great deal to be learned from Marx and others more properly identified as Marxist revolutionaries (Lenin, Mao) and Marxist philosophers (though here I have a very diverse canon—Adorno, Sartre, Jameson, many others), there are many others who are helpful in the critique of capitalism and the imagination of a radically different world who do not fit well into the Marxist canon (some examples would be Jacques Derrida, Wendell Berry, Ursula LeGuin, Octavia Butler, and Orson Scott Card). I am happy to learn from any of these and many other sources—including, obviously, progressive rock, almost none of which fits under the heading of Marxism (the exceptions would be Henry Cow and Robert Wyatt). I won’t belabor this point much further here, but I hope that readers who encounter the Marxist side of my perspective will avoid cold-war clichés. Certainly there have been social systems and movements and theories that have called themselves “Marxist” or “Communist” that have nothing to do with real liberation and the creation of a global community of mutual flourishing. Of course I reject these systems, movements, and theories. Certain ideas and possibilities have been dragged through the mud. Marxism isn’t the only thing this has happened to—I could see many of my arguments being made from a certain kind of radical religious perspective, and religion has certainly been dragged in the mud by some of its adherents and many of its supposed leaders. There are tremendous difficulties to be overcome; but none of this makes capitalism any less grotesque or the need to transform society any less real.
Some of these thoughts were first formulated (as regards progressive rock music, that is) in response to a critique of my book on Yes.2 The author of this critique, while overwhelmingly positive and generous regarding music of Yes, began by saying that he was annoyed and distracted by my “Marxist/Communist views.” He then repeated a few of the standard clichés. But, having thus vented, he went on to say that, “It is probably the first time I have ever read intelligent, convincing interpretations of Jon Anderson’s lyrics that actually SOUND RIGHT!” (emphasis in original), and that “[i]n general, I agreed with Mr. Martin’s analyses and opinions (on purely musical issues, that is . . .)” (ellipses in original). These comments raise (at least) three very important issues.
First, and not to be self-aggrandizing about it, if my interpretations of what everyone agrees is very difficult music and lyrics “sound right,” then might that not be a point in favor of the perspective out of which these interpretations have been generated?
Second, it is quite significant that, in the face of a politics that one has difficulty with, there is a standard move toward formalism—in this case, one concerning “purely musical issues.” Such issues do not, in my view, exist—which is not to say that formal analysis of musical structures is either impossible or unimportant. But form itself has content, and this content is historically, politically, socially, and culturally informed.
Third and finally, it may be the case that the radical perspective on these issues is well and good, but isn’t it distracting, as my critic claims, to go on at length about this perspective in a book on music? Or, again, Why not stick more
