Judging from the largely lukewarm reception to their new record, English band Radiohead are about to encounter a different kind of show-business experience than they’re used to. After receiving reams of critical praise for their last couple records, they’re now likely looking at backlash headed their way.

That’s the downside to success: Regardless of how well a band (or actor, or director, or writer) upholds the artistic quality of its work, fans may still get bored. The hype surrounding Radiohead has reached such a level of intensity that anything they release at this point is bound to disappoint someone.

Backlash is just part of the deal once you reach a certain level of fame. Consider the case of U2 after they put out Pop in 1997. On their previous record, 1993’s Zooropa, the band had managed to stage something of a reinvention, changing themselves into hip, ironic, tongue-in-cheek rock stars who made European electro-rock. Along with that came a high-concept tour that mocked media overload in the information age. Four years later, as the band prepared to release Pop, the record business was facing a slump, and everyone in the industry started talking about how the new U2 album would reinvigorate the market. But when the band came out with a mediocre record and another high-concept tour, people stayed away in droves. U2 took a financial bath and ended up coming back four years later with a humbler, more straightforward approach on last year’s All That You Can’t Leave Behind. Well, mostly humble—Bono is, after all, still in the band.

Backlash isn’t always deserved. In 1996, Beck released Odelay, which was almost instantly anointed with classic status. It was something of a commercial success as well. When he followed up three years later with his next “official” release—for the sake of this discussion, I’m disregarding the low-key release of Mutations—he found a very different reaction from the critics who had elected him pop music’s savior. Midnite Vultures was a pastiche of various urban styles—funk, soul, R&B, even gangsta rap—mixed with a psychedelic rock touch. The record somewhat predictably confounded the pop audience, despite the fact that, if one took the time to listen, there were some irresistible hooks buried in the bouillabaisse.

The general public is often fickle, but critical reaction to Midnite Vultures was a little surprising. While most scribes praised the music on the record, many seemed unable to get past the persona Beck appeared to be adopting here. Along with exploring black music, Beck also slyly poked fun at braggadocio in rap and R&B with sarcastic pimpin’ lyrics in songs like “Get Real Paid” and “Hollywood Freaks.” Apparently, the white liberal intelligentsia didn’t get the joke of a dorky white folky representin’, and they abandoned Beck while lambasting him as a “minstrel.” Ironically, black artists like Snoop Dogg and Timbaland started lining up to work with him, having appreciated the joke very much.

In the end, backlash is really just a rite of passage for high-profile entertainers; all celebrities go through it at some point. It’s a test of their creative worth, to see whether they can bounce back with good new ideas. After all, if we gobbled up everything these people put out, they’d be less challenged to do anything different, and we’d have a serious creative malaise going on.

But that doesn’t mean you necessarily should believe the backlash—same way you shouldn’t believe the hype. If you like Radiohead and you want to hear the new album, go out and buy it. Trust your own instincts, not everyone else’s. Meanwhile, I’ll just sit here and wait for the J.Lo backlash to take place as soon as humanly possible.

Tired of waiting

One way to avoid backlash is not to give the public time enough to get around to it. Weezer recently released their first album in five years. The how and the why of the record’s long gestation is another story, but what I’m fascinated by is singer Rivers Cuomo’s assertion in a recent interview that the band is already working on its next record. Cuomo stated that he’d like Weezer to function the way bands did in the ’60s, releasing a new album every year.

He’s got a point: One of the reasons backlash might set in is because big artists these days seem to take an eternity putting out new product. Janet Jackson has watched her last two albums struggle to reach the same level of multiplatinum sales as her previous records, probably due to the fact that, as with U2, there’s been a four-year stretch between each one. Whatever momentum she’s built up with her last record has long since subsided by the time the new one comes out.

You’d think that musicians, loving to be creative and all, would make records as often as they could. Not to mention the fact that their work would benefit from being continuously explored rather than being elevated to some sort of exalted status. Especially when we’re talking about an art form as disposable as pop music. Of course, Weezer should be churning out a new record every year. Their pleasures are so simple that I exhaust myself on them pretty quickly and soon become hungry for a new batch.

I agree with Cuomo that the ’60s model is a good one. Back then, the Beatles had at least one new record every year, often more. Same goes for the Rolling Stones. Hell, Creedence Clearwater Revival released its finest two slabs of vinyl—Willy and the Poor Boys and Green River—six months apart. Back then, musicians were energized to put something new together as soon as they could. These days, artists are self-important and take their art too seriously, while labels want to generate bigger and bigger sales—in part due to the fact that they run up such huge expenses hyping a release.

The more famous a musician is, the more likely he approaches his work with a meticulous perfectionism, thinking that each record has to be so remarkable and profound as to induce a ripple in the space-time continuum. Take Bruce Springsteen. In the past 15 years, the Boss has released only three studio albums, despite the fact that he’s reportedly always writing and recording. But it’s that absurd perfectionism that might have led to his last three records sounding so sterile and lifeless.

I think it would be much more beneficial for the artists and their audience to just let it all hang out, warts and all. Music is wonderful, but it needn’t possess such a rarefied air. Just crank it out, people, and let us enjoy all of it, the good and the bad.

Quotidian Challenge

“I tried to call, but they didn’t have a listing for Mr. Wonderful.”

“What spelling did you use?”

Be the first to e-mail the origin of this useless bit of trivia to poplife the shame of your name printed in the paper and some free useless crap from the Nashville Scene!

Previous week’s answer: “They declared me unfit to live. Said into that great void my soul’d be hurled. They wanted to know why I did what I did. Well, sir, I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.”—“Nebraska” by Bruce Springsteen.

Winner: Jenness Graham.