As far as advice goes, "kill your idols" rings out overly vague and unhelpful. Perhaps because few people really mean it: it operates as general guidance, not instruction. This reality contradicts what Sonic Youth intended when they coined the phrase in 1983 on the title track of their EP "Kill Yr. Idols." Before even verbalizing the title's sage advice to their listeners, the band has begun its mission of killing their idols. The song's opening line famously attacks rock critic Robert Christgau and in doing so, wages war on seemingly all power structures within and without the world of rock‘n'roll.
"I don't know why you want to impress Christgau," Thurston Moore wails over an alarmingly consistent guitar riff. He does not pause, waiver, or lower his voice upon denouncing the legendary critic. "Ah, let that shit die," he urges, "and find out the new goal." As the myth goes, Christgau gave a subpar review of Sonic Youth's first EP, and this track serves as the band's response. The infamous review pierces: "At their worst they sound like Polyrock mainlining metronome, at their best like one of Branca's early drafts. The best never last long enough." As Christgau continued to review Sonic Youth releases, his ratings scaled up from this first C rating to consistent As. But the band reacted quickly and publicly to the first review. Moore, who provided lyrics and vocals for this track, takes his first punch directly at Christgau but quickly expands his target. Christgau brought rock criticism into mainstream media through his platform at The Village Voice. In fact, The Village Voice brought the alternative press to the mainstream. He and his platform created a liminal cultural space. Christgau knew power and vulnerability all at once; this nuance meant nothing to Moore. Regardless of his position's fragility, Christgau had and wielded power. Worse yet, he played an imperative role in forming the power structure he sat upon. Christgau brought rock criticism to mainstream media and in turn, an element of order to rock‘n'roll. He rated and analyzed the sounds of a counterculture. To Sonic Youth, the new generation of rock musicians, this element of order exhibited no potential except as an object of destruction. Their attack begins with rock critics but ends with the entire world that has been built around rock‘n'roll: superstardom, idolization, charts, festivals.
Moore's lyrics communicate the band's message clearly, and the music embodies it. Following the first iteration of the chorus, almost every instrument goes wild in a chaotic interlude. The drums maintain the beat and ground this portion of the song. They come in at a slow pace and pick up rapidly. Behind them, the guitars abandon their main riff to play with dissonance and disorder. The main riff returns, accompanied by more chaotic playing from the second guitar. The instruments sound discordant and unnerving; a trademark of Sonic Youth's sound. This instrumental portion of the song fits closely into the genre of noise rock, building on the genre's concept and expanding it with entirely unfamiliar noises. Sonic Youth became known early on for modifying cheap guitars with drumsticks, screwdrivers, and other unique manipulations to create new sounds. The modified instruments produce screeching, wavering, unsettling noises. This audio manipulation embraces and propels the ongoing generational conflict surrounding rock‘n'roll. Sonic Youth makes the noise that drives parents to scream "turn that shit off!" They make it intentionally, and they make it more offensive than humble instruments alone can manage. This instrumental portion also carries an element of the intra-rock‘n'roll generational conflict that the lyrics ignite. Sonic Youth's guitar-rigging scars a sacred instrument, and does so less theatrically than the guitar-smashing tradition established in the 60s and 70s. It pays homage to the use of scordatura in classical music. Their technique violates numerous rock sensibilities, depending on the listener's perspective, and does so excitedly. To Sonic Youth, precedence doesn't deserve the weight it has been given in rock‘n'roll contexts.
Moore's rough vocals, which become increasingly strained as the song goes on, do their part to drive the conflict too. The escalation of Moore's anger as he moves on from just Christgau to larger ideas parallels the increasing scope of his proposed destruction. The first verse dons fairly neutral vocals: a little rough but nothing unexpected. As Moore goes on, his voice becomes raspy and irritated. It coincides with the lyrical content: Christgau annoys Moore but this structure of idolization infuriates him. Moore practically snarls on the second recitation of the chorus, as he insists "kill your idols… it's the end of the world." He draws out the final word, "sex," painfully long. His voice sounds overstrained, wavering in volume from the stress. The buzzing, fly-like guitar sounds accompanying this final vocal display exacerbate the point. Moore creates a particular brand of discord that produces anxiety in the listener and joy for him alone. He makes his indulgence evident in just how far he pushes his voice, far beyond any musical impact. He delights in the command: kill your idols. Break the system.
"Kill Yr. Idols" rewrites rock philosophy in under three minutes. It takes direct blows at a prominent individual, and metaphorically attacks the critic's power structure. It insults the mainstream, but craves to insult certain factions of the counterculture. Amidst the grand generational conflict spurred by rock‘n'roll's mere existence, Sonic Youth chooses to exist both at odds with the art and within it. They love the music and hate the organization creeping its way into a space dedicated to disorder. Killing your idols, as a concept, has been watered down over the past few decades. But in its first incantation, it was potent and tempting.
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