Right to the heart of the matter, then. Is Twee music simply music that can be described as "twee," per the definition we explored in our last action-packed episode? This seems a reasonable assumption, and it's a fine starting point. However, I have to believe that a genre this extensive and established would entail more than a collection of tunes described by a basic adjective. That would be akin to calling "sad music" a genre, or maybe "love songs," or "boppin' tunes." To be fair, there's a discussion possible here, since any boundary lines must be drawn subjectively. For instance, is "oldies" a genre defined only by era? Are "breakup songs" a genre, or just a collection of diverse tunes sharing a common theme or topic? Is "jock jams" really worth mentioning? Maybe not on a website devoted to Twee music, but I digress.
Onward, bravely! At the risk of repetition only two posts into this unlikely endeavor, my thought is to start once again with a definition. Uncle Google this time serves up a healthy helping of confusion hot off the griddle. The #1 result when searching "Twee music" is the Wikipedia entry for "Twee pop." Four of the top five results include this phrase or a slight variation on it. Broadening to the top ten, we start to see more references to "twee" alone, as well as indie. On the surface, this makes a certain amount of sense, as Twee music would generally be odd enough to be unusual (indie), yet catchy enough to be pop. It's difficult to imagine twee metal or twee rap, for instance, though I would 100% listen to playlists of those genres. (Note to self: Look up twee rap and twee metal to see if they exist.) (Follow-up note to self: Apparently not. A "twee rap" search turns up nothing relevant, and "twee metal" results are mostly off-target, apart from one review of an album called Icarus by an artist named Cryalot. Based on a quick skim of the article and listen to one track, I think the label was a lark and a stretch, so if you're harboring hopes of launching a bold new genre with a breakthrough track, the path is still open.)
Twee Pop Explained (or at least explored)
Okay, so Twee pop then—what have we got? Wikipedia says it's a subgenre of indie pop (sounds reasonable) and originated in a mixtape / compilation cassette named C86, released by the British music magazine NME in 1986 (worth investigating). The genre is "characterized by its simplicity and perceived innocence, some of its defining features are boy–girl harmonies, catchy melodies, and lyrics about love" (Wikipedia).
I don't disagree with this, though the music I've encountered under the banner of Twee doesn't adhere strictly to these requirements. What I find interesting is the mention of Twee's connections to feminism and queer communities. Paraphrasing and extrapolating a bit here, Twee pop centers and elevates female and queer voices; expresses love, joy, and positive emotions as a counterpoint to aggressive male rock music and related aesthetics; and embraces the DIY spirit and energy of punk.
One sentence in the entry particularly resonates with me and speaks to what I like about Twee pop: "While the music sounded lighthearted and naive, the subject matter was often gritty and dark" (Wikipedia). A similar dynamic is involved in two standout songs from my childhood: "Every Breath You Take" by the Police, and the hit it inspired (and a personal favorite) "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M. Sting is quoted as saying the song sounded lovely but was "very, very sinister and ugly." Michael Stipe, R.E.M. lead singer and lyricist, said during an episode of Storytellers on VH-1 that "Losing My Religion" was inspired by the Police song: "What I liked about it was that it was an obsessive love song. It was beautiful and creepy. So I wanted to write a song that was better.” Taking nothing away from Sting's impeccable artistry, I strongly feel that Stipe succeeded.
Beautiful Darkness, Fragile Strength
This contrast between pretty (more than beautiful) music and dark themes, whimsical flourishes and painful notions, feels central to the twee identity. From my own amateur explorations, I would expand the boundaries of this contrast to encompass elements that aren't so much negative as simply serious or strong. A Pitchfork article on Twee's recent resurgence cites the genre's emergence as a counterpoint to the UK punk scene in the 70s, while a piece in Tone Deaf considers 80s rock and metal the original antagonist. In both cases, the idea is that Twee was born as a softer, more feminine alternative to the dominant masculine genres that ruled that day. To paraphrase and extrapolate, softness can be a kind of strength, and embracing the sensitive and sensual in an aggressive, violent environment can be a courageous act of defiance and subversion. Innocent but powerful. Playful but determined. Worldly but not world-weary. Suffering but hopeful, even joyful. Not to mention less intense aspects like quirky yet relatable, simple yet thoughtful, strikingly innovative yet deeply familiar. The list goes on, likely well past the point of being helpful.
I think this contrast is a big part of what I love and seek in Twee music. The tension of contrasting elements is hardly unique to this genre, or even to music as an art form. Some of the most celebrated and timeless works of painting, sculpture, literature, film, dance, theater, and more build on this effective intertwining of unlikely ideas or opposing energies. My fascination with Twee music has to be rooted in more genre-specific considerations—unless I'm fundamentally mistaken in my assumptions. Maybe I happen to adore a number of individual Twee artists, and other notable acts and this style of music in general will actually leave me underwhelmed and indifferent. That would be a disappointing discovery, especially after going to the trouble and expense to set up a blog, do a good deal of amateur online research, and share a bunch of rambling ruminations on the public internet. Ah, well. Every aspiration involves the risk of failure, I suppose. And maybe I'll discover some amazing new bands and all-time favorite tracks. There's only one way to be certain. Next time (finally!): some music.
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