No, I'm not kidding. Britney Spears's "Stronger," the opening track, kicks it harder than any rock song here and is a hell of a lot more distinctive than most of them. Given that "Stronger" is followed by "Gotta Tell You," by Samantha Mumba, a Britney sound-alike, that's saying plenty. Fuel's "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" is so generic that it should be packaged in a white wrapper and stamped with the slogan, "Suitable for Everyday Use"; Coldplay's "Yellow" sounds like Radiohead by way of Gilbert O'Sullivan; and if Incubus's "Drive" misses a rock cliché, it's not for want of trying. And that's not to mention Creed's dreadful "With Arms Wide Open," in which lead singer Scott Stapp proves once and for all that he sounds like Eddie Vedder because he is Eddie Vedder; the Stapp disguise allows Eddie to make some real money while appearing not to sell out. Meanwhile the veteran acts on hand substitute homage for inspiration. Everclear's "AM Radio" is a salute to the '60s, Lenny Kravitz's "Again" could have been recorded in the '70s, and U2's "Beautiful Day" deserved to win three Grammys in 1985, not 2001. The term modern rock is getting funnier by the minute.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not denying that ATC's "Around the World (La La La La La)," with a hook that goes (surprise) "La la la la la," and Shaggy's "It Wasn't Me," replete with its references to (censored version) "love on the bathroom floor," are stupid. They are -- energetically so, the way certain hits have always been stupid. But when you hear them on the radio ten or twenty years from now, you'll recognize them and smile, just as you do today when you hear "Billy, Don't Be a Hero" or "Rock Me, Amadeus" or "Baby Got Back." And the rock songs? You probably won't remember a single note.
Mainstream rock doesn't die. It just fades away.