A postmortem defense of Jet

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Here's Jet before the crash.
It might not seem like a big deal that much-maligned Australian band Jet announced their "discontinuation as a group" on Tuesday. Most of the people who will read this post had long ago written off Jet as sell-out, half-assed imitators who got lucky once, but we all know deep down that's not true.

You can say what you will about them (and everyone has a passionate opinion about this band one way or the other), but their breakup is more important than it may seem on its surface. Ultimately it may say more about music lovers/critics/bloggers, etc. as a whole than it does about the four men in the band itself.

Jet was one of the first bands of the '00s to get taken in by the fickle hipsters and then get their skulls crushed by that same group for doing what all bands want to do -- and sort of are supposed to do. They became wildly popular. Then, all the critics who hailed them as the second coming of AC/DC turned on them with venom so poisonous it could have wiped out an entire pack of Outback dingoes. It was sort of frightening to watch. 


"Cold Hard Bitch" -- which is four minutes of the best guitar licks Angus Young never played -- suddenly seemed to be everywhere, but not the "everywhere" discerning music fans are comfortable with. Everyone you knew suddenly seemed to own Get Born, and it was fun to play at parties and in the car and, well, anywhere. It showed up in a Budweiser commercial and was featured in the television show Alias.


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