Postmodernism has served me well.

Through my artistic and personal life, I could say and do pretty much anything I wanted and hide behind the po-mo shield. This has been particularly handy when feeling some pretty deep and scary emotions. Earnestness, I mean true earnestness, gives me the “Godfrey moist eye.” As articulated in a previous post, I’m a crier.

But I’ve been going through a bit of a transformation lately — trying to showcase a more serious Scotty. But here’s the punchline (because there always is a punchline): my newfound earnestness has been brought out through the writing and recording of an album. Okay, it’s a…um…concept album.

If you don’t get what makes this so absurd, let me spell it out for you: in my estimation, there’s little that one could do in our current cultural and technological landscape that would be more ridiculously ironic, self-indulgent, and culturally limp than to write a concept album.

I mean, who has the time or wherewithal anymore to sit and listen to an entire album? Because that’s what you’re supposed to do every time you unsheath a concept album — listen to the whole thing. Think of my endeavor as akin to saying, “Damn the Internet! I’m writing and releasing a set of hardcover encyclopedias.” Or, “I know that it sounds like a bad idea — considering that 82% of Americans own cell phones — but I’m investing my lifesavings in a payphone company.” Simply put, the concept album is a relic of a bygone era — an outmoded technology.

And what, you may ask, do people who traditionally make concept albums look like?

Or this:

At any rate, they don’t normally look like this:

Also, one might wonder if it was a coincidence that while researching other concept albums for this post I noticed that several prog-rock websites carry advertisements for mail-order brides. As a friend of mine once said when describing his mid-’80s prog escapades: “hot licks and no chicks.” True story: I’ve known only one woman to ever own a Rush album — I married her.

For those too young or disinterested to have been exposed, here’s a smattering of some of the more notable concept albums of yore:

Pink Floyd’s The Wall:

The story of a self-isolated rock star who ultimately imagines himself as a fascist monster, The Wall is, notably, the only number-one selling album to include a scene in which a giant ass defecates on the protagonist — quite an accomplishment.

Rush’s 2112 (side one anyway):

The futuristic story of an intergalactic federation of quasi-religious rulers (the Priests of the Temple of Syrinx) who govern the people’s thoughts through legislating what art they can view, hear, or read. (Anyone have any experience dealing with the NEA? Lane?)

The Who’s Tommy:

You all know the story: he’s deaf; he’s dumb; he’s blind, “but he sure plays a mean pinball!”. ‘Nuff said.

Hüsker Dü’s Zen Arcade:

The elusive story of a disaffected youth who runs away from home only to find that the outside world is even more fucked than his parents — “Turn on the news,” indeed!

Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway:

The surreal story of a shirtless young man who encounters any amount of crazy shit while looking for his brother in a subway system (think Clash of the Titans on really speedy acid).

Yes, I know that there are a bunch of others, but these give what I think is a good beginners’ sonic and genre sampling. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is spark another Bowie debate by including Ziggy Stardust on the list.

For those familiar with the above works, do you notice a trend among them? They’re all pretty darn earnest — okay, extremely earnest, and thus, quite laughable (which isn’t to say that I’m not a fan).

Besides bringing out my serious side, writing my concept album has been an altogether different kind of experience from other projects that I’ve undertaken. Sonically, I’ve written it as one might compile a mixtape; I think about what kind of song I’d want to hear following the last. So if the previous song was all quiet and mellow, I’m likely to try to write a song that has a little kick to it, and vice versa.

The other part that’s been interesting is having essentially self-imposed assignments; because I’m writing along a narrative arc, there are certain plot points that I’ve needed to fill in. In other words, for the narrative to work, I’ve needed to write songs in which certain events take place.

But here’s my favorite part of the experience: in an extreme twist of postmodern irony, it has been my adherence to po-mo that’s given me the ability to take such an absurd project so fucking earnestly. As my views have evolved into a somewhat creative form of Nihilism, I’ve come to believe that if nothing matters, everything matters, even a concept album, which the world really needs right now.