Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

Picture yourself in a darkened movie theater, or soothed by the pleasing glow of a television screen. You are watching as a history of the moving image unfolds onscreen, but this history will not take note of D.W. Griffith or Jean Renoir, nor will King Kong or Jaws make an appearance. As the images flicker past - of four ebullient Britishmen turning cartwheels in an open field, a man tap-dancing on an urban sidewalk, a wedding party in a rainstorm, a tragedy in a school classroom - they wax more familiar, the theme growing more coherent, more stable. They keep coming, though, quickly, relentlessly, constantly changing form, changing style, shapeshifting. The parade of images appears to possess a logic of its own, a guiding hand to steer its ship. Finally, as the last picture fills the screen - it happens to be of a shooting on a Brooklyn street - a light bulb goes off: these are all images from music videos, the short films that once ruled the airwaves, and still possess a significant hold on the generations raised by MTV. "I wonder what those were all about," you say...



The music video is a medium that appears to have run its course, or at least hit a substantial rut in its evolution. MTV and VH1 have morphed into lifestyle channels, the musical component of their programming reduced to a mere blip on their schedule. BET, CMT, and other music channels still maintain their dedication to showing music videos regularly, but their narrower audiences render them distinctly niche channels. And yet the video's shining moment as part disposable crap, part momentary, fleeting genius (the exact cinematic/televisual equivalent of the pop song, of course) renders it a subject worthy of some serious attention. Saul Austerlitz's fascinating book tells the history of the music video, delving into its origins, function, stars, motifs, genres, conventions, and masterpieces.



Austerlitz sees the music video as a fascinating oddity, capable of packing great wit, emotion, and insight into its brief span. A compelling marker of cultural history, the video emerged onto television screens nationwide and shone gloriously for a brief moment before disappearing into the remembrance of television past. Informed, opinionated, and always entertaining, Money for Nothing goes a long way toward retrieving the memory of this fleeting, evanescent art-form.

Table of contents provided by Syndetics

• Foreword and Acknowledgments (p. vii)
• Introduction (p. 1)
• Chapter 1 Music Video in Fugue (p. 11)
• Chapter 2 Television Vaudeville (p. 31)
• Chapter 3 This Video's for You (p. 65)
• Chapter 4 Video Follies (p. 99)
• Chapter 5 Visions of a Youth Culture (p. 135)
• Chapter 6 Spike and Michel (p. 163)
• Chapter 7 No More Stars (p. 183)
• Afterword (p. 221)
• The Top 100 Videos List (p. 225)
• Index of Videos (p. 229)
• Index of Names (p. 000)

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Publishers Weekly Review

In this look back on the music video genre, film and music critic Austerlitz does an admirable job explaining how early pioneers like the Beatles and Bob Dylan paved the way for the Madonnas and Michael Jacksons of the 1980s, the decade in which the music video thrived. Unfortunately, Austerlitz muddles his historical narrative by arranging it more by theme than by chronology. Focusing on specific directors like Michel Gondry and Paul Hunter, topics such as comedy and minimalism, and the groundbreaking concepts and techniques of videos such as Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" and the Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U," Austerlitz proves an erudite authority, clearly articulating what makes videos such as the Replacements' "Bastards of Young" and Guns N' Roses' "November Rain" so important to the canon. But this specificity comes at the expense of a broader, more sociological take: hot-button subjects such as homosexuality are addressed, but Austerlitz rarely connects these to the prevailing cultural climate. Similarly, Austerlitz's assessment can be succinct and spot-on, as in his consideration of Nirvana's legacy, but these moments are too few and far between. Still, film and music aficionados will find themselves smiling at discussion of their favorites and chuckling over Austerlitz's skewering of less successful specimens; like his subject, Austerlitz's efforts can be described as "part disposable crap, part ... genius." Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information.