Moreover, Taruskin noted, if we looked at 20th century music history it was precisely the culture industry that the Frankfurt school condemned that actually made financial life for musicians and composers in minority positions to make careers. Black musicians in the United States were able to become part of the cultural life of the nation because of the so-called culture industry.
And as has been discussed at moderate length in some fairly mainstream publications, the gay community and gays were able to play defining roles in the culture industry. Sure, there were white guys in the first half of the 20th century who regarded the culture industry as all bad and Adorno was one of them, but Adorno's writings against jazz as a generic indicator of mass/popular music are well-known. There are pretty solid reasons why people have denounced Adorno's condemnation of jazz as being elitist and racist and sexist, but thanks to the sheer level of intra-academic influence Adorno has had in the realm of aesthetics people from the right and the left and the center have had to address stuff he's written.
But, getting particularly to the matter of the role gays have played in shaping rock music, the NYT has had a couple of pieces lately. The role Jann Wenner played in defining rock journalism for half a century can't be skated over.
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/18/books/jann-wenner-biography-joe-hagan.html
...
Two previous attempts at an authorized Wenner biography had come to nothing. In 2003, Mr. Wenner enlisted Lewis MacAdams, a longtime friend and former Rolling Stone contributor, only to pull out after reading a few hundred pages. (Knopf, which had initially bought Mr. MacAdams’s book, said the stalled deal was canceled in 2014.) In 2011, a similar arrangement with the Rolling Stone writer and author Rich Cohen made it to the proposal phase — Spiegel & Grau offered a reported $1 million — before Mr. Wenner revoked his cooperation.
To test Mr. Wenner’s willingness to handle unflattering information about himself, Mr. Hagan said he gathered anecdotes, including from the 1990 book “Rolling Stone Magazine: The Uncensored History” by Robert Draper, which was said to be banned in the magazine’s offices, and ran them by his prospective subject.
“He became incredibly agitated,” Mr. Hagan said. “I came out of that meeting very disenchanted.” Mr. Wenner also indicated that he would like to have some veto power over coverage of his sexual history.
In a letter to Mr. Wenner shortly after their meeting, Mr. Hagan wondered whether he could write a biography “in which part of your life is fenced off from my inquiry.” He added, “You spent 27 years traveling in elite celebrity circles as a gay man married to a woman.” Mr. Hagan demanded the biography be unauthorized. “I have to be able to determine for myself what’s relevant and what isn’t,” he wrote. “And I can’t do that under the threat of legal recourse.”
Eventually, Mr. Wenner agreed to read the book only once it had reached its final form, and Mr. Hagan signed a deal for $1.5 million with Knopf.
Across years of reporting, Mr. Hagan conducted more than 240 interviews and spoke with Mr. Wenner for dozens of hours. He mined Rolling Stone archives and his subject’s cache of letters and files. “From boyhood, he compulsively hoarded every document of his life,” Mr. Hagan writes in the book’s prologue, “because he believed he would one day be important.”
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/17/style/the-gay-architects-of-classic-rock.html
One of the 20th century’s most powerful creations was the rock star: the preening, erotic god of guitar-fired defiance. But those who embodied that character didn’t spring from nowhere. Managers groomed them and shaped them, and in the classic rock era those managers were often gay men.
For decades, the close relationships between the managers and the predominantly straight musicians they advised were not discussed much. Lately, however, they have become a point of pride and celebration. [emphasis added]
“The Fifth Beatle,” a recent graphic novel that focuses on the personal life of the Fab Four’s gay manager, Brian Epstein, was a New York Times best seller and is now in development as a six-part mini-series, with the approval of the Beatles’ estate. And the documentary film “Lambert & Stamp” made clear the important role played by Kit Lambert, the gay co-manager of the Who, in shaping the band’s identity.
Another image maker of the classic-rock era, Jann Wenner, the co-founder of Rolling Stone, is the subject of a new biography by Joe Hagan, “Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine,” which stresses the role his sexuality played in his presentations of male rock stars throughout the magazine’s history. (Mr. Wenner did not come out to the press until the mid-1990s).
“Being gay gave me a finer appreciation of the sexuality of the guys up there,” Mr. Wenner says in the book. “I could understand that in a way others didn’t.”
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Mr. Napier-Bell sees the entire notion of rock ’n’ roll rebellion as an extension of “gay anger.” “We were against the establishment, the government and the law, which was against us,” he said. “It was an attitude felt by the managers that was expressed through their groups.”
At the same time, many of the gay men came from more refined backgrounds than the rockers, an experience they transferred to their charges. “Brian came from a world of classical music and jazz,” Mr. Tiwary said. “He envisioned that the Beatles would be like the great classical composers and be remembered long after they were gone.” [emphasis added]
Mr. Lambert, whose father was a prominent classical composer, pushed Mr. Townshend to write a rock opera, resulting in “Tommy.” “Kit molded me as a composer,” Mr. Townshend said in “Lambert & Stamp.”
If the young rockers benefited from the taste and ambition of their gay advisers, in turn the managers got a sense of connection they otherwise couldn’t achieve. “It’s not like a gay man at the time could marry or enjoy a family,” Mr. Cooper said. “With a band, there’s a sense of an extended family. They could raise and nurture the musicians and put all the complexity of their experience into something of worth.”
While an author at the LA Review of Books could propose the real bad guys are corporations and capitalism the trouble is that there is ultimately never an innocent cultural dynasty of patronage and there never will be one in this world.
Whatever its indie/counter-cultural roots or initial reputation by the time I was a kid in the Reagan years no magazine could have been more full-bore establishment within rock than Rolling Stone. It may be that you remember things as they were when you felt you were in your prime. I mean, there are people now who probably remember a local megachurch through the prism of their own promising youth.
https://slate.com/arts/2017/10/the-jann-wenner-biography-and-the-hbo-doc-reviewed.html
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We tend to think of Rolling Stone as a quintessentially Sixties artifact, and the publication certainly presents itself as such. But the magazine gained its true foothold in the 1970s, when it was regularly printing groundbreaking work from the likes of Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Greil Marcus, Ben Fong-Torres, and Annie Leibovitz along with ample doses of nostalgia. To later generations of readers, Rolling Stone often seemed like it was incessantly reflecting the Sixties generation back to itself through a soft lens, but the truth is that the magazine had pretty much always been doing that: Read critics like Jon Landau and Lester Bangs in the magazine in the early 1970s, and their writing is already shot through with loss and creeping disillusion. Cameron Crowe, who became one of Rolling Stone’s star feature writers during the 1970s while still a teenager, recalls landing assignments to cover bands like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple and Black Sabbath simply because none of his elders at the mag wanted to write about them. Rock and roll was already dead by then, anyway.
...
As Hagan’s book shows, the driving, irresolvable tension behind both Wenner and his magazine from the beginning was the clash between the desire to do meaningful journalism and the desire to be near fame. [emphases added] For all the great music writing that Rolling Stone has produced, Wenner has also enjoyed being friends with rock stars and has been known to value those friendships at the expense of editorial credibility, or simply good taste. He’s long given certain stars the right to edit their own interviews before going to press, and the line between criticism and hagiography has frequently blurred, particularly as Wenner and his favorite artists have aged. See this five-star review of Mick Jagger’s 2001 solo effort Goddess in the Doorway, penned by the publisher himself, or more recently, the time Rolling Stone declared U2’s eminently forgettable Songs of Innocence the best album of 2014. Hagan reveals that Wenner demanded the ranking personally. (“My dictate. By fiat, buddy. That’s that.”)
And the line between starfucking and fucking stars over was crossed early and repeatedly. There’s no artist more central to the Rolling Stone mystique than John Lennon: He graced the cover of the magazine’s first issue back in 1967, and Leibovitz’s photo of Lennon and Yoko Ono that appeared on the front of the Jan. 22, 1981 issue—released shortly after Lennon’s murder and entirely dedicated to remembrances of the late Beatle—might be the most famous magazine cover in American history. (If you’ve never read this issue, I’d strongly recommend tracking it down: It is, from front to back, a masterpiece.) Wenner and his magazine have kept Lennon’s memory and legacy alive with purposeful ferocity: Since his death, Lennon has appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone, either by himself or as a member of the Beatles, no fewer than 15 times.
And yet as Hagan’s book makes clear, the reality of Lennon and Wenner’s relationship was far more complicated than most people knew. In December 1970, Wenner coaxed Lennon into sitting for a lengthy conversation that was published in Rolling Stone in two parts under the title “Lennon Remembers.” It was an extraordinary coup for the young publisher, and to this day it remains the most famous interview Lennon ever gave. Shortly after it ran, Wenner received an offer to turn the interview into a book for $40,000. Lennon was vehemently opposed, but the cash-strapped Wenner did it anyway, and the two never spoke again. (Lennon was so angered that he later supported a short-lived competing magazine, called SunDance, with the intent of putting Rolling Stone out of business.)
POSTSCRIPT:
11-6-2017
There's also some discussion of Wenner's legacy over at The New Yorker, which is no surprise.
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But Hagan’s portrait of Wenner is crisp and cutting: using Wenner’s own archive, and more than two hundred and forty interviews (including conversations with Mick Jagger, Yoko Ono, Bob Dylan, and Paul McCartney), he narrates the story of an indulgent and widely disliked man who is obsessed with celebrity and consumed by ambition. [emphasis added] (When the editor Will Dana, who worked with Wenner for twenty years, tells Hagan, “I basically think he’s 51 percent good,” it feels like a moment of circumspect generosity.) Hagan’s story is so aggressively substantiated, and so alarmingly consistent, that it’s difficult to imagine how “Sticky Fingers” could have turned out any other way.
In the book’s prologue, Hagan cites the magazine’s “radical conventionality” as Wenner’s most striking innovation; Rolling Stone, he explains, “instantly legitimized and mainstreamed the underground.” This process involved equating “confession and frank sexuality with integrity and authenticity,” a wild conflation that quickly became dogma—precious and paramount to the new-media companies (like Vice) that ultimately usurped most of the magazine’s cultural capital.
Hagan makes these points early on in “Sticky Fingers,” and the book is adamant throughout about the ways in which Rolling Stone invented cultural value: the journalistic forms it introduced and cherished, the readers it innervated, the brazen and devious ways it commercialized the counterculture. “The framework of American narcissism has its roots in Jann Wenner’s pioneering magazine making,” Hagan explains. He asks his readers to seriously consider Wenner’s role in establishing the tenets and behaviors now associated with modern celebrity: “Today the signifiers of fame—confession, preening self-regard, and blunt sexuality—are so built into modern media manners that few can even recall a time when they were novel.” [emphasis added] (That time, he implies, was before 1967, when Wenner and Ralph Gleason founded the magazine, in San Francisco.) Though I mostly agree with Hagan’s judgment, this is a vast and odious legacy to drop exclusively at Wenner’s feet.
Rolling Stone has, at least, always been an engine of progressive politics, and Wenner boldly published some of the best and most interesting New Journalists of the last fifty years, even if—and by now, anyone who writes regularly about the Western canon is resigned to how this sentence ends—most of them were deeply troubled white men who also engaged in wildly sexist or otherwise bigoted behavior. Gonzo is a thrilling but troublesome tradition; even before Rolling Stone published, in 2014, a strangely uncorroborated story about a rape at the University of Virginia, it was hardly a bastion of journalistic integrity. Hunter S. Thompson, probably the magazine’s most famous former contributor, was a stunning stylist but a noted fabulist. [emphases added] Likewise, many of the magazine’s reporters grew uncomfortable with the close relationships that Wenner had with the rock stars they were tasked with covering. Cameron Crowe—whose semi-autobiographical film, “Almost Famous,” is, at heart, a cautionary fable about getting too friendly with your subjects—bristled at being made to play softball with the Eagles. “I felt it was blurring the line that had been so sculpted and held as precious and true,” he told Hagan.
I never took to gonzo journalism myself. Of the new journalists my favorite was, by far, Joan Didion. Tom Wolfe was fun to read when he was writing journalism and then he lost his way by writing for the Great American novel tripe that he once scoffed at in his youth. He's never going to be a great American novelist or even much of a social observer but he was, for a decade or so, a brilliant stylist. It's just that the New Journalism techniques were probably style above substance, not that there was never no substance, to use an awkward phrase.
Gonzo journalism was in a lot of ways just journalists pretending to be like the rock stars they were interviewing. The spiral in quality of journalism could be laid at the feet of misunderstandings about the legacy of new journalism but I don't feel like really making that point. We've had yellow journalism and variants of it for centuries. We've also had journalism presented as journalism that is really just advertising and sometimes it seems that in the most fundamental way a lot of what is presented as serious arts writing is still basically advertising by another name. If Wenner's vices were craving celebrity and influence among many other vices ,perhaps it can at least be said of him that he was blunt enough to admit that he wanted to promote music he liked. It might not be "that" differen tfrom Schumann and Berlioz pumping the reputations of composers and musicians they liked in their time.
