When Bad People Make Good Art - by Ted Gioia
I don’t even write negative record reviews anymore—I only tell you about music I enjoy, and forget the rest. And I have even less interest in probing into the unsavory details of a musician’s private life.
That fire burns constantly now. And it’s not just mobs trying to cancel the culprit of the week. There’s an equally large mob trying to destroy the cancelers themselves.
If I listen to Michael Jackson’s music, am I endorsing his alleged crimes and failings? Do I need to study the evidence—devoting days to reading court transcripts and legal depositions—before I click on a playlist?
Can I watch a Woody Allen movie, and enjoy it as a movie, without first deciding if he is guilty of sexual abuse allegations?
What about Miles Davis, accused of domestic abuse?—and here I’ve heard firsthand testimony from an actual witness. Do I now need to give up Kind of Blue and S ketches of Spain?
Or how about Chuck Berry, who spent two years in jail for sex trafficking and punched a woman so hard that she needed stitches?
