Jessica Simpson recently graced the cover of Rolling Stone. What she was wearing or not wearing isn't important here. What she was holding, however, is--namely a green mop clearly labeled as a Swiffer Wetjet. It's official: As if sixty pages of advertisements plus three more inserts weren't enough to sell the reader, the plague of product placement is now on the cover of one of rock & roll's once venerable institutions. The concern that the next almost-nude pop tart might be sporting a brand-new bottle of Febreze or hawking the latest picture phone from Motorola is not as pressing, however, as the tremendous change it represents in the music world. Rolling Stone was a publication borne out of the '60s counterculture, a magazine without any big-name advertisers. And as recently as the early '90s, in the early days of "modern rock"--the genre RS represents when it's not covering the next flavor-of-the-month--there was a little band called Nirvana, whose frontman wore t-shirts that read "Corporate Rock Still Sucks."
It's a sign of the times when former rocker Jewel's latest hit is written for a Schick commercial. Back in the '70s, when the Kinks wrote "Lola," they were forced to change the words "Coca-Cola" to "cherry cola." Corporate song sponsorship wasn't imagined then. Now, however, OutKast just shook it "like a Polaroid picture" and Lil' Kim's "The Jump Off" contained a mind-boggling 14 product references ("make a Sprite can disappear in my mouth" for one.)
From Busta's "Pass the Courvoisier" in 2002 to Phat Farm clothing's debut in 1992, hip-hop has always been above the product-marketing-music and music-marketing-product curve. But unlike Nelly's selling Air Force Ones (also a song), P. Diddy's successful Sean John line or Mya's popular Coke jingle, rock & roll merchandization has thus far yielded fewer success stories and oftentimes, it is perceived as a money-making degradation--rather than a complement--to a band's musical repertoire.
National rock apparel retailer Hot Topic has its own line of band merchandise. For sale are a matching necklace and navel ring set from Korn, dolls of Insane Clown Posse members ("7 inches tall, and he's holding a red axe, ready to do what insane clowns do") and a throw from Social Distortion. Other online retailers such as rockmerchuniverse.com sell band-approved PC mouse pads, license plate frames and windproof lighters. Featured musicians include the Mars Volta, Pink Floyd, Paul McCartney, the Doors and yes, Nirvana. On these websites, every normal supermarket product has its band equivalent, including Linkin Park's "Gold Drip Air Freshener"--"scent of air freshener may vary"--and "20 sticks of intense incense filled with the essence of AC/DC."
Of course, ordering directly from the artist's website is yet another option. Here, product availability and quality vary considerably. For example, Wilco's advertised dog sweater is woven from 100% cotton, comes in five different sizes and fits even the most portly of specimens (a bulldog is the model). The inexplicable selection of eight different mugs on Ani Difranco's site might be less utile. After all, some things are more functional than others. Available for next-day shipping are No Doubt bras, 3 Doors Down metal bottle openers and a postcard set from electro-wiz Moby. Death in Vegas offers a set of rolling papers; the Grateful Dead has bar stools covered; and as usual, name-brand Avril ties are must-haves. Rhinestone bracelets, and indeed, last Christmas' special, tree ornaments from Metallica are somewhat less tasteful, as are bobbleheads of any kind, Fuel condoms and Rolling Stones-approved "animal-print knickers." The ugliest thing I've ever seen is the Jimmy Eat World cowboy tote bag.
Merchandising music obviously has its downsides. Affiliating yourself with a product can poison the original if, for example, a band puts its face on shoddy sweatshop-produced calendars (or shot glasses or thongs). There's also the everpresent threat that the apparel and accessories production side could overshadow the music side. But with album sales falling 2.1 percent in 2003, there is ever-increasing pressure for bands to remain profitable and financially-solvent.
Here's one final pitch: Willie Nelson's Old Whiskey River Bourbon retails for around thirty dollars. Each bottle comes with a personally autographed guitar pick. Indeed, pick and choose: rock-n-roll is for sale.
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