Does the concept album even exist anymore?
Or, story in the era of eras
Update on my relationship with AI: still as ill-defined as if I had tagged it as in a relationship on Facebook, but more consistent what with my work. My preferred robot is Gemini, and I’ll sometimes ask it a question a propos of nothing by way of a warmup before diving into the matter on which I actually need its input. Indeed, I’ll sometimes make it a question I know something about so I can assess the quality of the answer and adjust my expectations going into the next question. If I must dance with the devil, I’m choosing the songs.
The other week I requested a brief history of the concept album, and I thought old Gem hit most of the right notes, especially regarding the form’s inception. It was lighter on the last decade-plus’s additions to the catalogue—worlds created by artists like Melanie Martinez and Nessa Barrett—which is odd, considering those are closer to us in the timeline. I know, I know, time isn’t linear.
Then I wondered if these generative-not-creative forces even judge those works to be concept albums. Not that they can make judgments of their own accord, because they are generative not creative. But it occurred to me they might not have enough associated language to draw on to make a connection. The bridge they will need will not be formed; the ductile anchor will not hold.
They might, on the contrary, have an overabundance of language about eras.
Sabrina Carpenter’s latest album cover reveal caused the latest inexplicable kerfuffle of her career. In the long tradition of openly sexual women musickers before her, kerfuffle seems to trail her like, well, man’s best friend. She’s doing the bit, she’s being a responsible recording and performing artist and a savvy businesswoman, and so much pearl-clutching misses the point and achieves nothing. The cover image came as no surprise to me. What caught my attention was i-D magazine’s Insta post calling it an ‘era announcement.’
Is it a new era? Or is it more of Sabrina’s shtick? The styling that lunched her to superstardom after a decade just under the radar had her recalling the pinups of eras past, and the video for the new lead single is as aesthetically ravenous as they come. It’s got to break some record for number of costume changes. If anything, I feel that’s a comment on the reductive preoccupation with ‘eras’: the word, in our post-Bowie industry, has come to mean about as much as a collection of symbols, each not more than a few frames long, out of a Coen Brothers fever dream.
Albums have been intended as more or less cohesive units of artistic vision at least since Sinatra’s mid-‘50s work at Capitol. There are vibes if not concepts, themes if not narratives. Charli XCX has arguably only ever had one vibe, arguably only ever situated herself in one era, and she’s the more beloved for it with each passing year. Likewise, half a century ago, the bands that first popularized the term ‘concept album’ were not necessarily—not even usually—allocating one album per era. With a few exceptions, like the aforementioned Bowie, eras took several years and releases to run their course.
More to the point, eras were defined in retrospect. Nowadays, an artist need only drop a new cover image for us to dub it a new era. It could be a function of our compulsive feed-refreshing, or of our oft-unmet desire to start all over. It could simply be that our attention spans have shrunk, a hardly disreputable claim. And we can’t pretend the hard-and-fast delineation isn’t rooted in consumerism: the tantalizing prospect of new branding and merch with every new sound byte (whether the fans are salivating more than the execs remains unconfirmed).
But it’s not universal. No less than the Queen of Eras has two records that belong to a single era, both of which see the songwriter delving deeper than ever into character work, both of which have been parsed to within an inch of those characters’ lives by the base. Were the college kids of ’66 doing the same with Revolver? Were they preparing as best they could in real time for their faves’ next vibe shift, though I doubt those preparations held up?
Who’s to say. My heartfelt belief is that the sun has not set on the concept album, nor does it shine solely on the era. The coiffed blondie sticking out her thumb on the side of the road still needs that Me Espresso, whatever that is. Give the music, and the musician, time. Let them cook.