I have only recently become aware of “Loungecore” as a term, because the musical genres of “lounge music” and “easy listening” already exist. “Loungecore” is used interchangeably with “easy listening”, but lounge music predates it, lasting through the 1950s and 60s, with easy listening following into the 1970s.
The suffix “-core”, banding together items with a similar aesthetic, appears here to band together common elements between genres as pop culture history elongates and flattens out, rather than grouping emerging connections before a name suggests itself.
However, I first encountered “Loungecore” in the late 1990s, as the title of a compilation CD of instrumental music by Mexican composer Juan García Esquivel. His style influenced the adjacent genres of “Space Age” and “exotica”, emphasising the music’s intention of taking you to a tranquil place – his piece “Mini Skirt” was being used as the theme tune for the BBC documentary series “Louis Theroux’s Weird Weekends” at the time, just as Andy Williams’ “Music to Watch Girls By” was advertising the Fiat Punto supermini.
Esquivel’s lounge music had interesting arrangements and choices of instruments, more intricate rhythms, and the recordings made full use of the then-new stereo technology. The combined effect, along with various vocalised exclamations of “zoom” and “wow!”, reminded me of Spike Jones and His City Slickers.
Therefore, my reaction to this music was to sit up and listen, not lie back – it was so unlike pop music, it made itself curious and interesting in was unintended when it first appeared, and fitting with the combination of “lounge” and “hardcore” for I took the CD compilation’s title to mean.
I am not clear why there was a revival of lounge music and easy listening in the 1990s – it may have been general nostalgia and critical re-evaluation of the previous generation, which will have been planted in the 1960s, accompanied by replays of TV series like “Thunderbirds”, “The Avengers” and the original “Doctor Who” series. I am guessing that the success of the compilation album “Carpenters Gold” when released in 2000 was a result of nostalgia sliding along to the 1970s, and into easy listening, and endless plays of the Starland Vocal Band’s languid song “Afternoon Delight”.
Even the use of the words “easy” and “lounge” symbolise my difficulty with listening to these genres as intended. The lush instrumentation inherent in a song from bandleaders like Esquivel, Ray Conniff, Mantovani or James Last only leads me to pay attention to why it sounds the way it does. Like the programming inherent in Muzak and the “beautiful music” radio format that ran in the United States from the 1950s to the 80s, there are reasons behind the music sounding the way it does, or being arranged it does, and it is usually to be appropriated for a specific use, or to deliberately sound “easier” to listen. This is either because I need music to stimulate me, or I find it hard to relax.
The most prominent example of lounge music appearing in the UK charts, as far as I remember, was a result of the deliberately ironic use of the style. The Mike Flowers Pops, an existing covers band in an easy listening style, was engaged to cover the Oasis song “Wonderwall” for Kevin Greening, a BBC Radio 1 DJ whose weekend breakfast show was recounting songs released during. After it was replayed by weekday breakfast presenter Chris Evans as his “record” of the week, demand prompted an official release. The outcome was hilarious: Flowers had as big as hit with “Wonderwall” as Oasis had, with both versions reaching number 2 in the UK singles chart, and both receiving “silver” status for selling over 200,000 copies. The Mike Flowers Pops had two further top 40 hits, with covers recorded under their own steam, before the novelty caused by the irony died down.
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