In the beginning there was MTV. Music Television. And it was good. Very, very good. The fledgling network devoted to playing rock and roll videos debuted on Aug. 1, 1981, with the words, "Ladies and gentlemen, rock and roll," and love it or hate it, there is no arguing over the station's cultural influence since then.
Past that point, however, there is plenty to fight about. Is it still relevant or just a colossal, rich albatross, dictating trends with the aid of an ultra-smooth marketing department? Is it devoted to music or money?
Whoops, my attitude is showing, but I'm one of the naysayers who look back on the early days of MTV with a fondness and longing. I recall constant music played in heavy rotation, before all the specialty programs took over. And I'm a firm believer that music is the last thing on the network programmer's minds nowadays. Even on "Total Request Live," where young fans call in to ask for there favorites, it's all watered down with guest appearances, snarky Carson Daly ad-libs and constant voiceovers from screaming fans.
MTV is not what it once was, nor is it what it set out to be. And that is bad. Very, very bad.
All that is evident in "MTV Uncensored." It's an anniversary tome celebrating the station's first 20 years, and what it includes (and what it leaves out) offers a telling reflection of the network itself. It's a cluttered publication, full of visuals, some pathetic and lame, some breathtaking in their artistry pretty much like MTV itself. And the book's narrative and editorial layout are a royal mess, a scattershot effort that takes in some of everything without any apparent reason, which is also a lot like the station's programming.
Unholy alliance
"Uncensored" begins with some random, poorly positioned photos. There is no content page, and the pictures have no cutlines, so if readers aren't up on all music minutia, they're out of luck. The tome plays up MTV's biggest claim through heavy coverage of the Video Music Awards, but then maddeningly disperses them over its pages, out of chronological order. The Video Movie Awards fair better since they have their own section, but the editors and compilers even manage to get some photos laid-out under the wrong years. It's almost as if they said, "Hey, we're famous for our visuals, so no one will notice if we don't have a delineated narrative with it."
The poor narrative spills over from content and layout to the printed word, with the editors (led by Jacob Hoye) relying solely on brief snippets of interviews and recollections to explain the events on the page. And sometimes it's not even with the folks who matter. While covering their first game show, "Remote Control," which launched the careers of Colin Quinn and Adam Sandler, they managed to include no quotes from host Ken Ober.
And like the network itself, the early days are pulled out briefly, as if on parade, with each of the first VJs getting a page before they disappear under a barrage of current musical acts and trends like Ja Rule, Backstreet Boys and Eminem. There is little in the way of discussion over its concept and early programming choices, and the 1980s are glossed over.
Some cool information does manage to seep through, however. For instance, the first rotation of videos included acts like .38 Special, Shoes, Tom Johnston, April Wine, Juice Newton and Lee Ritenour, with a reliance on supergroups Styx and REO Speedwagon and power-puff performers like Pat Benatar and Rod Stewart. When the British invasion showed up for the second time in two decades, it was not only their videos but that "I Want My MTV" campaign featuring The Police, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Billy Idol and The Who that saved the station from early cancellation.
Also, metal and hip-hop, which have played in heavy rotation and lined MTV's coffers for years, get a short shrift in the publication.
There are numerous photos that will bring back memories, and there is no denying that the visual element has always been the strongest MTV component; it's influence is seen in the editing and pacing of most TV shows and movies. This is also a good book for trivia lovers who want to know who won a certain MTV award, or when any of the programs from "The Real World" to "House of Style" originated, or how long annoying Kevin Seal was a VJ. (Answer: four years, but it seemed a lot longer.)
"Uncensored" ends with a picture of aging Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler performing between 'N Sync's Justin Timberlake and his main squeeze Britney Spears at last year's gaudy, bloated Super Bowl halftime show. The photo represents the old vanguard, the new marketed products masquerading as performers, and all the crass, cluttered programming that money can buy. It's an unholy alliance of art, advertising and income that doesn't seem to quite work anymore.
That is a perfect summation of MTV, both the network and the book.
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