Hey Rock Nerds,
Sometimes the internet tells us things and it’s fun to share!
ITEM! Tell me, at this point are there any bands left to reunite? Anyway, here’s a pretty compelling story about the latest cult band to reassemble, The Only Ones.
ITEM! Don’t quite how this passsed the Nerd Squad by, but a few weeks ago it was announced that Nick Lowe will be releasing his first album in 6 years this June!
ITEM! Something else, but I can’t remember now. It’ll come to me.
I’m a little surprised R.E.M. doesn’t seem to get its props from the general RTH community. They have (well, had) a driving, melodic rhythm section; a wankery-eschewing guitarist with (judging from interviews) an encyclopedic knowledge of rock; and an eccentric lead singer who pushed them into new territory. They’re kinda like XTC in that regard.
Sure, their brand of jangly college rock became a cul de sac thanks to lesser lights. And yes, their preachy brand of political gesture sure can grate. But – of their early work — I submit that Murmur is a still-intriguing bit of mystery with genuninely innovative production, and Reckoning shows that they dial down production quirks and still make interesting music.
So what’s the deal? Their sound has aged much better than most of their ‘80s-era brethren. Is it Michael Stipe’s androgyny? Isn’t that taking RTH’s pro-wrestling inclinations a little too far?
At the very least, please watch the above clip and tell me that’s not a great performance of a great song!
Does humor belong in music? Emphatically, I say Yes. Bear in mind, I’m among the RTH contingent that not only considers Randy Newman one of the Greats, but also he believes that through humor he gets to the kind of truths that Serious-Minded Rockers couldn’t even come close to grazing. If you’re not down with Newman – he is an acquired taste – you should know I feel the same about The Kinks.
Remember, when I mean humor in music, I don’t mean novelty songs. The key isn’t so much making jokes as it is comic timing. And in fact, I’d argue many of the Accepted Greats of Rock possess this gift: Dylan, The Beatles, The Who, The Stones. (“Baby better come back, maybe next week/’Cause you see I’m on a losing streak” is down to comic timing.)
I lean, then, towards humor that is expressed conversationally in music. So, the elephant in the room, Frank Zappa, doesn’t really register for me. His comic timing doesn’t strike me as tuned to the rhythms of speech as much as the rhythms of the hyperactive xylophone part or crazy time signature.
I’m more than a little surprised that in a recent poll RTH’s readers and/or contributors declared the 1977 Bee Gees/Peter Frampton vehicle Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band to be the worst rock movie, over my preferred choice, Ken Russell’s 1975 film of The Who’s Tommy. Don’t get me wrong – Sgt. Pepper completely deserves its reputation as an utter and complete perversion of everything good and right that The Beatles stood for. But I submit that Tommy is an even worse film and, more importantly for the purposes of this blog, a greater Rock Crime.
Context is everything. Consider that Sgt. Pepper contained precious little input from the actual stewards of The Beatles legacy. Rumor has it that George Harrison and Paul McCartney appear in the star-studded finale, but frankly, if George and Paul are indeed there, they’re overshadowed by rock titans like Carol Channing and Jon “Bowzer” Bauman. Sgt. Pepper’s soundtrack was produced by George Martin, true, but I must remind you that he was not, in fact, a Beatle.
On the other hand, the travesty Tommy features notable work by all four members of The Who. Not only did Roger Daltrey handle the title role, with Keith Moon in the, shall we say, noteworthy role of Uncle Ernie, and not only did John Entwistle lend his distinct bass lines to the enterprise, but Pete Townshend helmed the horrible, horrible soundtrack. Let me tell you: More synthesizer-related Rock Crimes were committed on this soundtrack than at any time in the 1980s.
Let’s also consider who sat in the director’s chair for each film. Sgt. Pepper was helmed by Michael Schultz who, besides having helmed subsequent music-related films like Berry Gordy’s The Last Dragon and Disorderlies, has since moved on to a career directing for television. I’m not calling him a hack per se, but he’s doesn’t seem like an auteur either.
Tommy, on the other hand, was written and directed by Ken Russell, a man who is seldom able to contain himself in realizing his horrible, frightening, gaudy visions on film. That whole artistically dubious glam-camp genre of cinema (Rocky Horror Picture Show, Phantom of the Paradise, the end of All That Jazz) can mostly be blamed on Russell.
But these elements are ultimately only parts of the bigger whole; the main reason Tommy defeats Sgt. Pepper in the badness game. See, everybody knows that Sgt. Pepper sucks, and we can all revel in its badness in the best Mystery Science Theater way. On the other hand, while I know plenty of intelligent people who can tolerate Tommy, the people who truly hate it tend to be Who devotees. This movie is essentially designed to piss off the very people it should be courting first and foremost. Beatles fans can laugh at the folly that is George Burns posing with a white Les Paul in Sgt. Pepper. Who fans can only grit their teeth in pain at the combined memories of Ann-Margret, Oliver Reed, Jack Nicholson, Eric Clapton, Tina Turner, Elton John and every other moment of every other frame of Tommy. I hold Russell and Townshend both directly responsible for this, and you could make a case that the film of Tommy sets the stage for The Who’s many subsequent artistic travesties. Thank God for The Kids Are Alright.
Poor guy seems down in the dumps, if this new interview on The AV Club is any indication.
The A.V. Club: How are you doing?
Andy Partridge: I’m not doing great. My mouth has come back to life after some heavy-duty dentistry earlier this afternoon, so I’m not talking like Quasimodo now. But my tinnitus is roaring—Jesus Christ, it’s going loud today. I have really appalling tinnitus after a studio accident last year.
AVC: Does the tinnitus come and go?
AP: No. I’m afraid I have it 24 hours a day, screaming feedback. It makes up for all the years I yelled at monitor men on stage. “Get these fucking things working! Stop that whistling!” Somewhere in the ether, there’s a heavenly monitor man laughing: “Hee hee, I’ll give you feedback 24 hours a day!”
AVC: Does the tinnitus make it hard to play or listen to music?
AP: I tell you, it’s really put me off music in a big way, because I find a lot of sounds upsetting now. Where before they were thrilling or beauteous, I just find a lot of them annoying now. I’ll stop scraping the violin, it’s boring, but I’m going to see a supposed expert on tinnitus in London tomorrow, and hopefully she will say “If you do this, this, and this, it will calm down a bit.”
And so on.
David Byrne’s uptight, control-freak inclinations are well-documented. (I had the dubious pleasure of watching him curse out tech-crew guys at a show at the Merriam Theatre a few years ago.) Nevertheless, while I find his newish status as an indie-rock elder statesman a little weird – considering, among other things, how well Talking Heads integrated themselves into the mainstream in their time – it seems to have brought out a kinder, gentler Byrne to the public sphere. His blog is interesting, if at times long-winded, and his recent interviews show a person genuinely interested in answering the questions and even engaging the reporter in something resembling a conversation. The most recent example is in New York Magazine.
What do you think of pop music right now? Do you consider yourself a pop musician?
I still do! And I’m totally fine, actually, with pop music right now. I like Justin Timberlake’s song, and — what is it, Christina Aguilera, “Ain’t No Other Man”? A pop song for me has to be like a watch, perfectly constructed, and some are, and then some, like that Beyoncé one, “Irreplaceable,” there’s one point where she rhymes a word with itself, which to me is just jarring. It’s like, Wait a minute, you can’t do that! You have to find a word that sounds like it to rhyme! You can’t rhyme “you” with “you.” Anyway.
Does it bother you that many people’s first association with you is that time?
Obviously, I’d like it if people had a wider view of what I’ve been doing throughout my life, but I’m also pragmatic; I know that, to some extent, that was when the stuff I was doing had its widest impact.
Kinda makes me feel bad that most people can’t tell his post-Heads albums apart.
A secret poem recorded by the legendary singer Jim Morrison shortly before he died is to be released as a song to raise awareness of climate change…
Dan Morrell, the founder of Global Cool, said Morrison’s lyrics give an eerie warning of the risks of global warming. He said the song – which features the chorus “Just try to stop us, we’re going to love” – is written from the perspective of an angel sent to Earth to advise the human race about the perils they face. Mr Morrell said: “It’s very strange to hear this thing recorded more than 30 years ago that seems so relevant to the environmental challenge we face.”
