The other night, Mr. Royale and I went to see Pavement at the Greek Theater in Berkeley. As we were waiting during that lag time between the opening band and Pavement, a disheveled, rheumy, older man wearing a black sock, a white sock, and pathetically patched pants approached us. He stood in front of our group and stared at us. Eventually, he pointed to Mr. Royale’s equally ripped jeans and slowly drew a sewing kit out of his pocket. He offered it to us, telling us that he was the drummer for Pavement. He asked if we believed him, and we replied that we did not. Instead, I was thinking, this is Berkeley and all that, but how did the homeless dude get in to the show? Later, during the encores, Gary Young scampers up on stage, and we recognize our man. Could he keep the beat? Negotiable. Did he drop the sticks regularly? Certainly. But there was no doubting that the anti-sartorial gentleman was indeed playing drums with Malkmus et. al.

In turning the tables on the theme of The Look, what happens when there is a band member who does not “match” and does not reflect the signifiers of the rest of the band? What are some other examples of this? As many Hall members are also musicians, did you choose or throw out members due to their Look? From previous RTH discussions, it appears that nose hair, clothing, and other visual symbols make or break band cohesiveness, so I welcome your comments and observations.

Willie’s bob.

My wife was telling me about some lame NPR piece she heard that started with news of Willie Nelson cutting his trademark long, braided hair. The news turned into a piece, she said, by some “kid” on most significant celebrity haircuts, or something like that. My wife thought it could be a fun story, but she was quickly put off by the correspondent’s reference to “back in the ’90s” and a description of Jennifer Aniston cutting off her long hair into a “layered bob.” This term really bugged my wife. “A ‘layered bob?!?!'” she complained, hours later. “How did this woman not know what a shag is, and if she’s some culture correspondent why didn’t she refer back to someone like Carol Brady?” She went on to tell me that the woman thought every celebrity hairdo was some variation on a bob. Keri Russell‘s shocking pixie haircut, for instance, was described as a “short bob.” At least the correspondent, according to my wife, did more than talk out her ass on Russell’s haircut, telling the story of her old tv show’s massive ratings dip following the haircut.

It was clear what my wife was getting at: This was a topic that needed to be discussed by the discerning minds of Rock Town Hall! So let’s keep it in the music realm, which we know and love best, and let’s get back to the beginning, considering the significance of Willie Nelson’s newly shorn locks. What are the most significant mid-career haircuts in rock? How did these haircuts change an artist’s fortunes, for better or for worse? How did these haircuts, perhaps, change the course of rock ‘n roll? Feel free to riff. We might uncover some important stuff.

All haircuts up for discussion must have taken place after the artist had already established his or her career. In other words, The Beatles’ groundbreaking moptop ‘do does not qualify because it was not a mid-career change in coiffure.
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