Blah Blah Blah & Ballroom Rock: The Birth of a Genre
Chicago, 2007: Alternative group Blah Blah Blah records their first song on tape in a kitchen, and a new genre of music is born.
Blah Blah Blah’s last post on Instagram was made in December of 2020, but their comments section is flooded with messages from adoring fans from as recently as a week ago. So, what is it about their music that keeps people coming back after years of the group’s inactivity?
The band’s four members — Solomon David Moss, Byron Harden, Dario Ecks, and Philip Ferguson — have cracked the code on how to create a timeless sound that stains your mind, creating an itch for a specific type of music that only they can scratch.
Blah Blah Blah are the self-proclaimed pioneers of the “ballroom rock” genre, a style of music that blends the recognizable melodic conventions of crooner music (think Frank Sintra) with elements from the more modern indie-rock genre—Moss’s vocal style has been compared to the likes of Steven Morrissey, the lead singer of legendary British rock band The Smiths. This leads to a genre that is able to explore both ‘mother genres’ at once in an extremely dynamic way, resulting in music marked by fascinating interactions.
These novel interactions are, in large part, what gives ballroom rock its mysterious allure. At its root, ballroom rock is a genre that feels timeless yet slightly unfamiliar, like a song that plays in a cafe that you just can’t place, but evokes blurry, forgotten memories. This undefinable element is best exemplified in their song “Goodbye L.A.”
Goodbye L.A.
Did you ever notice I was gone?
A letter to the City of Angels outlining the band’s complex relationship with the music industry, “Goodbye L.A” perfectly describes the moment when starry-eyed admiration becomes cynical disillusionment. The personification of the city lends itself to making the song’s thematic focus—disappointment—universally relatable; even if you’re not a musician who has failed to make it big, everyone has been let down before.
However, the lyrics are not the focal point of “Goodbye L.A.” Rather, it’s the instrumentals and musical style that provide the song with its magical ingredient. We feel this from the very beginning—the band’s drummer, Ecks, leads you into a cycle of ebb and flow with soft, trembling cymbals and drums that crescendo, then recede, then crescendo again as Moss, the band’s vocalist, bids farewell to Los Angeles. This drumming style is reminiscent of the ‘big band’ genre that dominated the jazz scene in the 1940s—originally created as an accompaniment to dancing in the 1910s, this was played in large ballrooms where people would do the jitterbug and the Lindy Hop.
Its roots in ballroom music gives the song a certain grandeur and an almost cinematic ambience, as if Moss is standing stage right with a bag slung over his shoulder at the city limits, looking back mournfully at the bright, twinkling lights of downtown L.A. before beginning his forlorn trek back to Chicago.
The piano and keys, played by Moss and Ferguson, are muted and repeat the same bars—with some variations—throughout the song, giving the listener a sense of being stuck within the confines of the melancholic melody.
Even at the song’s climax, Moss keeps his voice soft and subdued, less a wail of despair than a quiet, firm rejection of the shackles L.A. has bolted onto him.
No, you won't stop
No, you won't stop me now
No, you won't stop me now
His tone is deep and slow yet forceful, and trembles with a darkness that layers the lyrics with angst. When paired with the immediately recognizable swing style from the 50’s, Moss’s vocals lend the music a hauntingly familiar, yet gilded and untouchable quality.
Lots of stars
Too many cars
Smile gleams and poor hearts dream
Where they say you might find your way
Yes I, love I, found mine
Ballroom rock’s glamorous effect can be traced back to its aforementioned roots in a timeless genre. By utilizing recognizable melodies from the 20th century and tinting them with the angst of indie-rock, ballroom rock evokes a feeling that we should know the song that’s playing and a consequent desire to find it when we realize that we don’t.
The music feels like it’s been through years of wear. “Goodbye L.A.” for example, sounds fuzzy; the quality imitates that of a well-worn record instead of having the crisp studio sound we’re accustomed to. This makes the entire song feel tactile—we can visualize and almost touch the texture of the instruments—the smooth, trembling surface of the cymbal; the heavy, ivory piano keys and the velvety felt dampeners beneath them; the cold, silver metal grooves of the birdcage microphone. Even Moss’s strong, unwavering timbre feels immediately present at the forefront of our minds, as if we’re watching the song being performed live.
Blah Blah Blah’s choice to use the term ‘ballroom’ to describe their style is ambitious, as this genre is key in the evolution of North America’s musical canon. In fact, it positions the band’s members as ushers of a new historical musical age — one that is just as iconic as its predecessor.
Moss describes Blah Blah Blah’s ultimate goal as "healing, nurturing, and unifying the discord in our world” through their music, This is quite an ambitious aspiration, but one that is in line with the band’s musical choices. By creating new out of the old, Moss and his bandmates have proven that difference is not always indicative of conflict and it can, instead, lead to the creation of something truly special.
Comments