[January 16, 2008 update: The following feature holds little more than historical significance. Lovers Electric, the duo in question, have changed their sound and you will no longer find the tracks described herein on iTunes. I decided not to remove this feature because it is one of the few in-depth pieces published on the duo before they reinvented themselves. Enjoy.]
One of my favorite contemporary artists is the delightfully quirky Australian pop singer and songwriter Butterfly Boucher. When Butterfly announced to her MySpace friends that her sister Eden has a band worth checking out, I wasn’t sure what to expect; after all, Butterfly was hardly in a position to judge Eden’s act objectively. Luckily, I needn’t have worried. Eden and her husband David do indeed “make beautiful music together” under the name Lovers Electric. Imagine your favorite ‘80s pop songs played by a leading ‘90s alternative band and filtered through the garage rock revivalism of the 2000s. This is pretty much what you get on the duo’s self-titled debut album, available worldwide exclusively through iTunes. Hard-charging guitar-based rockers, bouncy pop sing-alongs, and gorgeous piano-driven ballads are all characterized by breathy vocals, impeccable harmonies, and a gritty production that stands in gloriously sharp contrast to the smoothly polished sound so prevalent in today’s music.
David and Eden write catchy, memorable, melodic songs whose lyrics contain much wisdom and insight into the inner workings of human relationships and the troubled state of today’s world. “I Don’t Know” makes the assertion, “Everything happens for a reason, I know/Some of it matters, and some things are best left alone”—a simple statement, but all the more powerful for it. With lines like “We can’t stay to fade away; the end is not a means for me,” the epic “Is It Over?” is a perfect anthem for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship that teetered on the edge for a seeming eternity, while “Won’t Give In” and “Not Good Enough” make us all take a look at ourselves and rethink what we have come to accept as correct in life: “Our eyes are closed, but we’re awake as we make our choice—this is not good enough.” Towards the end of the album, the Lovers throw listeners a real curveball with “Whatever You Want,” whose jaunty pub-pop feel and multilayered storyline prove that these awesome Aussies can adapt their distinctive sound to surprising musical and lyrical settings. David and Eden have been continent-hopping in their bid for musical world domination, but they generously agreed to stay still long enough to do an e-mail interview with me. Since they’d already answered all the usual questions for a fine web feature by radio station KGRL (from which I obtained my background information), I thought I’d indulge my knack for making inquiries that are a little out of the ordinary. Here are the results:
SJ: As I understand it, David plays guitar and keyboards and sings background, and Eden sings lead. Who are some of the other musicians heard on the album? Are they part of the touring band for full band gigs?
David: Well there is really only one other main musician beside the two of us on the album. Our good friend Fuzz Townshend played drums on all the tracks. He also is part of our live band. We also had someone play cello and someone play harp for us on a couple of tracks.
SJ: Your songwriting process is a joint effort, but Eden, you've taken credit for composing many of the melodies. Do you think those melodies have a distinctive or unusual character because you don't play an instrument?
Eden: I've always done a lot of singing, but never have played much music, so I'm sure it has an effect. But we both write the melodies, depends on the day...
SJ: Most of your songs sound happy, but few of them are! Is this deliberate?
David: I guess it's just how they turn out, we like energetic music but I think life is bittersweet, I guess our music is probably a reflection of how we see life.
SJ: Songs like "Won't Give In" and "Not Good Enough" paint a picture of today's world as an almost Huxleyan dystopia in which people would rather be brainwashed and overly medicated than truly enlightened. Is there a specific philosophical or even religious basis to these sentiments?
David: I definitely don't trust society, quite often the things that are generally accepted are not the things which are most helpful for people always. I think there's a temptation for us these days to fix problems with medication rather than lifestyle. It's not always that simple but there's a lot of people struggling and looking for ways to fix it up.
SJ: A lot of the tunes on the album address the trials and tribulations of human relationships, especially those that are failing to live up to their potential—a theme I have been all too familiar with lately! Is there any particular reason this is such a prominent theme in the album?
Eden: Well, a few of the songs were written at a time when lots of break-ups were happening around us. But we would like to think there is still hope in the words, even when it's sad.
SJ: "Whatever You Want" is so different from anything else on the album. How did that one come about?
Eden: That’s our oldest song in fact, it was written before any of the others. But it's a song we have always loved and wanted to put it on our first album. But that’s probably why it sounds so different.
SJ: Tell me about how the songs were arranged. Is there one person who had most of the ideas or did the arrangements emerge in a less formal manner?
David: Well, sometimes I'll write a whole song myself, sometimes we'll collaborate entirely. But with arranging and producing, it's very much a team thing. We are both very involved and a song isn't finished unless we are both happy with its arrangement.
SJ: Why release the album exclusively through iTunes?
Eden: It just kind of happened that we were in the UK/Europe iTunes office with our manger and got to know the guys in iTunes. So we released our album with them. Also, it's a far greater leap to release and distribute CDs into shops and we are just not that well known to make that worthwhile.
SJ: The album has a decidedly unpolished sound, which in my opinion works brilliantly in its favor. Was this intentional or just the result of the small-budget, DIY nature of the project?
David: Yeah, we really like that about the album too. It did have a lot to do with the equipment we had. All we had was a very small studio, a laptop and a few other bits and pieces, our mobile studio.
Many thanks to David and Eden for the interview.
For music and more information: http://www.loverselectric.com
http://www.myspace.com/loverselectric
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Bobby Parker: The Real Fifth Beatle?
1964 was the year that brought Beatlemania to the world at large. It began with “I Want To Hold Your Hand” hitting the American charts, becoming the Fab Four’s first US hit. It ended with the ascent of one of the band’s most memorable hits, “I Feel Fine.” There was something different about this record. The strange opening, for one thing, John Lennon’s deliberate guitar feedback reeling the listener in from the outset. Then there was the riff—that riff. It was bouncy, yet bluesy at the same time, and a certain bittersweet tinge colored its jazzy overtones. There was also something of a Ray Charles feel to the rhythm of the song, adding an extra layer of depth and intricacy. But this was all just a series of brilliant coincidences, right? As nice as that would have been, it just wasn’t the case. While Lennon’s deliberate feedback is generally acknowledged to this day as his innovation and the first appearance of such a gimmick on a rock record, the rest of the aforementioned elements were somewhat less original. In George Harrison’s own words, “The guitar riff was actually influenced by a record called ‘Watch Your Step’ by Bobby Parker. But all riffs in that tempo have a similar sound.” [1] Lennon, who is credited with devising the “I Feel Fine” riff, was more forthright and less defensive than his former bandmate: “’Watch Your Step’ is one of my favorite records. The Beatles have used the lick in various forms. The Allman Brothers used the lick straight as it was.” [1]
Either way, we can thank Bobby Parker (not to be confused with Robert “Barefootin’” Parker) for providing the inspiration for one of the most famous riffs in rock history. The veteran singer, songwriter, and guitarist is now regarded among blues aficionados as one of the finest practitioners of the genre, but he did not always hold such a lofty status. Back in 1961, Parker was in his early 20s and accustomed to playing backup for various R&B and rock ‘n’ roll artists. At this juncture, he recorded his self-penned “Watch Your Step,” a crazed, hypnotic, hard-edged masterpiece with gloriously distorted guitar work and pained, wailing vocals. It was as good a blues, rock ‘n’ roll, or soul record as any that came out in the early 1960s, and upon its release on the small Philadelphia-based V-Tone label it became a minor hit (#51 on Billboard’s Hot 100). It was also released in the UK, becoming a favorite among British record buyers with a hankering for rhythm & blues. The song attracted covers by British artists such as Adam Faith, Manfred Mann, Tony Jackson (late of The Searchers), and The Spencer Davis Group. Its influence was clear on many British Invasion bands; for example, The Yardbirds’ rave-up arrangement of Mose Allison’s jazz tune “I’m Not Talking” bears more than a passing similarity to “Watch Your Step.” Rock artists on this side of the pond were quite fond of it, too. Carlos Santana, who says that Bobby Parker inspired him to play guitar, made the song a staple of his band’s repertoire, and Del Shannon’s 1965 near-hit “Move It On Over” took the “Watch Your Step” template and sent it into proto-metal overdrive. The Beatles were but one of many who tried to recapture the greatness of Parker’s signature tune.
As you may have surmised, the original 1961 recording of “Watch Your Step” was ahead of its time, but just as bands like The Beatles created something different by building on influences from the past, Bobby Parker has admitted that “Watch Your Step” resulted from putting a new spin on old favorites: “It was a take-off on ‘Manteca’ by Dizzy Gillespie. I started playing the riff on my guitar and decided to make a blues out of it. We were influenced by Ray Charles’ ‘What’d I Say.’” [2] Let’s dissect that statement a bit. Dizzy Gillespie’s 1947 recording of “Manteca” was a landmark in itself, one of the pioneering records in the field of Latin jazz. It was an exciting performance, based on a strong-yet-slippery groove and—that’s right—a hypnotic, circular riff. But Parker didn’t simply appropriate the riff from “Manteca”; he transformed it, filling in all the empty spaces and recasting it in a decidedly sinister fashion. To complement this new lick, the “What’d I Say” rhythm was an obvious choice. Ray Charles’ 1959 classic was, like “Manteca,” a landmark in itself, becoming Brother Ray’s breakthrough on the pop charts and eventually one of the most covered songs of all-time. The rhythm on "What'd I Say" crossed the line between jazz and R&B, galloping along with a proto go-go feel established by the frantic drums and buoyant electric piano. Parker simply retained the drumbeat and pressed his guitar into service to replace the electric piano. This set “Watch Your Step” apart from “What’d I Say” in a remarkable fashion. Whereas Charles’ piano chords drove “What’d I Say,” Parker’s arpeggio-based riffing propelled “Watch Your Step,” creating a greater sense of urgency. That sense of urgency found its way into the grooves of “I Feel Fine,” albeit in a somewhat diluted form—“I Feel Fine” is a happy, feel-good song after all—and Lennon and Harrison’s guitar work cleverly mixed arpeggios with relaxed chording to incorporate a buoyant effect similar to that of Charles’ electric piano. The influence of “What’d I Say” (and “Watch Your Step,” for that matter) was not lost on Ringo Starr either, as he retained the basic rhythm but inverted the drumming pattern: instead of tapping the rim of the snare and then hitting the tom-tom twice, he hit the tom-tom twice and then tapped the rim of the snare. One could say that “I Feel Fine” resulted from a seemingly endless cycle of people ripping each other off, but think about how The Beatles added their distinctive three-part harmonies to the mix and threw in a bridge that totally broke away from the song’s main riff and rhythm. Again, they were simply doing what Bobby Parker before them had done: building on influences from the past to create something new and different.
WNEW-FM in New York City hosted John Lennon as a guest on September 28, 1974. He played Bobby Parker’s “Watch Your Step” and revealed that it inspired the riff for a Beatles song called.......”Day Tripper”! [1] But this one is a bit more of a thinker than “I Feel Fine.” For “Day Tripper,” which came out a year after our other Bobby Parker-influenced Beatles song, Lennon essentially did the opposite of what Parker had done with “Manteca.” Lennon took the “Watch Your Step” riff and made it less intricate, reducing it to its bare essence so that it sounded totally different at first. But listen to “Day Tripper” and sing the “Watch Your Step” riff along with it; it fits like a hand in a glove. Of course, the “Day Tripper” riff has become even more of a classic than the “I Feel Fine” riff, widely acknowledged as one of the first licks you must learn if you want to be a rock guitarist. Perhaps somebody ought to start a campaign to get Bobby Parker into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
So, the big question remains: how can you hear all of this stuff? At the time of this writing, most of it is easy to find. “I Feel Fine” and “Day Tripper” are, like all Beatles recordings, off limits to the legal digital music services. However, these songs are basically “Beatles 101” and can be found on numerous Beatles compilations and heard all over the radio; if you care at all about The Beatles, you probably already own these tunes. “Manteca” and “What’d I Say” are similarly essential listening for Dizzy Gillespie and Ray Charles and if you own a “Greatest Hits” or “Best Of” on either artist you are bound to have these tracks. Furthermore, they are available on major digital music services, so you can download them legally and safely. Sadly, finding “Watch Your Step” will be the biggest challenge, but it is far from impossible. There is of course the original 45, but if you’re looking to take advantage of more recent technology, you do have some options. The original recording is apparently not available for legal download, but a latter-day re-recording of the song appeared on Parker’s 1993 album Bent Out Of Shape and can be found on iTunes (but not Napster). This new version is a bit slower and lacks the original’s Ray Charles feel, but it is still quite good and the riff is still there. As for the original 1961 version, it has appeared on a few various artists CDs. Your best bet is to check out Volume 7 of Ace Records’ excellent Golden Age of American Rock ‘n’ Roll series. It’s an import from the UK, but it can be found for a good price at specialty shops and from major online retailers. Like all volumes in this series, it features many bona fide classics that hit the American charts before the British Invasion, and serves as an important chapter in the history of rock ‘n’ roll.
More information and music: http://www.bobbyparkerblues.com
[1] Here, There and Everywhere: The 100 Best Beatles Songs by Stephen J. Spignesi and Michael Lewis, Black Dog & Leventhal, 2004.
[2] Rob Finnis' liner notes from The Golden Age of American Rock ‘n’ Roll, Volume 7, Ace Records (UK), 1998.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Either way, we can thank Bobby Parker (not to be confused with Robert “Barefootin’” Parker) for providing the inspiration for one of the most famous riffs in rock history. The veteran singer, songwriter, and guitarist is now regarded among blues aficionados as one of the finest practitioners of the genre, but he did not always hold such a lofty status. Back in 1961, Parker was in his early 20s and accustomed to playing backup for various R&B and rock ‘n’ roll artists. At this juncture, he recorded his self-penned “Watch Your Step,” a crazed, hypnotic, hard-edged masterpiece with gloriously distorted guitar work and pained, wailing vocals. It was as good a blues, rock ‘n’ roll, or soul record as any that came out in the early 1960s, and upon its release on the small Philadelphia-based V-Tone label it became a minor hit (#51 on Billboard’s Hot 100). It was also released in the UK, becoming a favorite among British record buyers with a hankering for rhythm & blues. The song attracted covers by British artists such as Adam Faith, Manfred Mann, Tony Jackson (late of The Searchers), and The Spencer Davis Group. Its influence was clear on many British Invasion bands; for example, The Yardbirds’ rave-up arrangement of Mose Allison’s jazz tune “I’m Not Talking” bears more than a passing similarity to “Watch Your Step.” Rock artists on this side of the pond were quite fond of it, too. Carlos Santana, who says that Bobby Parker inspired him to play guitar, made the song a staple of his band’s repertoire, and Del Shannon’s 1965 near-hit “Move It On Over” took the “Watch Your Step” template and sent it into proto-metal overdrive. The Beatles were but one of many who tried to recapture the greatness of Parker’s signature tune.
As you may have surmised, the original 1961 recording of “Watch Your Step” was ahead of its time, but just as bands like The Beatles created something different by building on influences from the past, Bobby Parker has admitted that “Watch Your Step” resulted from putting a new spin on old favorites: “It was a take-off on ‘Manteca’ by Dizzy Gillespie. I started playing the riff on my guitar and decided to make a blues out of it. We were influenced by Ray Charles’ ‘What’d I Say.’” [2] Let’s dissect that statement a bit. Dizzy Gillespie’s 1947 recording of “Manteca” was a landmark in itself, one of the pioneering records in the field of Latin jazz. It was an exciting performance, based on a strong-yet-slippery groove and—that’s right—a hypnotic, circular riff. But Parker didn’t simply appropriate the riff from “Manteca”; he transformed it, filling in all the empty spaces and recasting it in a decidedly sinister fashion. To complement this new lick, the “What’d I Say” rhythm was an obvious choice. Ray Charles’ 1959 classic was, like “Manteca,” a landmark in itself, becoming Brother Ray’s breakthrough on the pop charts and eventually one of the most covered songs of all-time. The rhythm on "What'd I Say" crossed the line between jazz and R&B, galloping along with a proto go-go feel established by the frantic drums and buoyant electric piano. Parker simply retained the drumbeat and pressed his guitar into service to replace the electric piano. This set “Watch Your Step” apart from “What’d I Say” in a remarkable fashion. Whereas Charles’ piano chords drove “What’d I Say,” Parker’s arpeggio-based riffing propelled “Watch Your Step,” creating a greater sense of urgency. That sense of urgency found its way into the grooves of “I Feel Fine,” albeit in a somewhat diluted form—“I Feel Fine” is a happy, feel-good song after all—and Lennon and Harrison’s guitar work cleverly mixed arpeggios with relaxed chording to incorporate a buoyant effect similar to that of Charles’ electric piano. The influence of “What’d I Say” (and “Watch Your Step,” for that matter) was not lost on Ringo Starr either, as he retained the basic rhythm but inverted the drumming pattern: instead of tapping the rim of the snare and then hitting the tom-tom twice, he hit the tom-tom twice and then tapped the rim of the snare. One could say that “I Feel Fine” resulted from a seemingly endless cycle of people ripping each other off, but think about how The Beatles added their distinctive three-part harmonies to the mix and threw in a bridge that totally broke away from the song’s main riff and rhythm. Again, they were simply doing what Bobby Parker before them had done: building on influences from the past to create something new and different.
WNEW-FM in New York City hosted John Lennon as a guest on September 28, 1974. He played Bobby Parker’s “Watch Your Step” and revealed that it inspired the riff for a Beatles song called.......”Day Tripper”! [1] But this one is a bit more of a thinker than “I Feel Fine.” For “Day Tripper,” which came out a year after our other Bobby Parker-influenced Beatles song, Lennon essentially did the opposite of what Parker had done with “Manteca.” Lennon took the “Watch Your Step” riff and made it less intricate, reducing it to its bare essence so that it sounded totally different at first. But listen to “Day Tripper” and sing the “Watch Your Step” riff along with it; it fits like a hand in a glove. Of course, the “Day Tripper” riff has become even more of a classic than the “I Feel Fine” riff, widely acknowledged as one of the first licks you must learn if you want to be a rock guitarist. Perhaps somebody ought to start a campaign to get Bobby Parker into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
So, the big question remains: how can you hear all of this stuff? At the time of this writing, most of it is easy to find. “I Feel Fine” and “Day Tripper” are, like all Beatles recordings, off limits to the legal digital music services. However, these songs are basically “Beatles 101” and can be found on numerous Beatles compilations and heard all over the radio; if you care at all about The Beatles, you probably already own these tunes. “Manteca” and “What’d I Say” are similarly essential listening for Dizzy Gillespie and Ray Charles and if you own a “Greatest Hits” or “Best Of” on either artist you are bound to have these tracks. Furthermore, they are available on major digital music services, so you can download them legally and safely. Sadly, finding “Watch Your Step” will be the biggest challenge, but it is far from impossible. There is of course the original 45, but if you’re looking to take advantage of more recent technology, you do have some options. The original recording is apparently not available for legal download, but a latter-day re-recording of the song appeared on Parker’s 1993 album Bent Out Of Shape and can be found on iTunes (but not Napster). This new version is a bit slower and lacks the original’s Ray Charles feel, but it is still quite good and the riff is still there. As for the original 1961 version, it has appeared on a few various artists CDs. Your best bet is to check out Volume 7 of Ace Records’ excellent Golden Age of American Rock ‘n’ Roll series. It’s an import from the UK, but it can be found for a good price at specialty shops and from major online retailers. Like all volumes in this series, it features many bona fide classics that hit the American charts before the British Invasion, and serves as an important chapter in the history of rock ‘n’ roll.
More information and music: http://www.bobbyparkerblues.com
[1] Here, There and Everywhere: The 100 Best Beatles Songs by Stephen J. Spignesi and Michael Lewis, Black Dog & Leventhal, 2004.
[2] Rob Finnis' liner notes from The Golden Age of American Rock ‘n’ Roll, Volume 7, Ace Records (UK), 1998.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Album Review: Lipke Goes "Home"
Andrew Lipke seems to always find some music-related endeavor to keep him busy and make his name one to throw around on the Philadelphia scene. One such pursuit is his career as a solo artist who blends singer/songwriter conventions with rockier elements, as exemplified by his new album The Way Home… (MAD Dragon Records). Home, his second album and his first to be released through a record label, was produced by Jim Klein but Lipke is all over it—he wrote the songs, he did the arrangements, he participated in the engineering and mixing processes, and he played several of the instruments himself. Of his many talents, songwriting is his strongest, but there is much to be said about him as a singer. His voice is oddly captivating, ranging from a manly, sonorous baritone to a fragile, elastic tenor and a spine-tingling falsetto. As both a songwriter and a vocalist, he displays an impressive amount of versatility, and his arrangements grab the listener’s attention by playing acoustic and electric instruments off each other, often making effective use of strings to enhance the drama of his songs.
The album opens strongly with the dark, brooding rocker “Untitled Song #1,” featuring a deranged vocal and surprisingly vicious lines such as “I wanna see you bleed and know that you still can” and “I wanna lock you up, I wanna watch you growing old and watch you die.” The motivational “Check Your Mirror” is brightened by an upbeat melody and Lipke’s fluid rockabilly guitar work, while the poetic, meditative “Green Street” has a warm domestic feel which undoubtedly came about because he wrote it with his wife Myriah. “The Fire” is a remake of a heart-wrenching rock ballad from his debut album, Ghosts, but this version gets a much more assured performance and an arrangement that truly complements Lipke’s vocals. “Stick By You” is a nifty little back porch ditty whose sarcastic lyrics read like the dark underbelly of standard marriage vows (here’s hoping he’s never sung this one to Myriah), while he stretches the limits of his upper register to devastating effect on the acoustic “My One And Only”; just try not to be moved when he casually tosses off lines like “the blood will drain away and the pain will slowly fade.”
“Standing Over You” is this decade’s “Hey Jude,” creeping up on you quietly with surprisingly-placed hooks, building gradually to a hypnotic, symphonic rideout. Music scribes live for tracks like this: anthemic and instantly accessible, with an outstanding vocal performance and production. It should be all over the radio and blasting out of car stereos everywhere across America. The odds are that it won’t reach such heights, but one can at least hope for a healthy number of (legal) downloads on this tune.
There isn’t a bad song on The Way Home…, but there are some selections that pale slightly in comparison to their album-mates. Though “Sideways Dreaming” and “Moving Back To Paradise” contain vivid lyrical imagery, they are rather vague attempts at social commentary and simply don’t have the same sharpness as Lipke’s songs about relationships. (“Paradise” is pleasing to the ears, however, capturing some of the feel of Pearl Jam’s “World Wide Suicide” but with greater sonic complexity.) “Downtrodden” would have been an exciting piece of alternative rock ten years ago; now, it’s just cozily familiar. Then there’s the closing track, “It’s Gone Out,” which is credited to Lipke but is more likely the result of a long-forgotten collaboration between Andrew Lloyd Webber and Count Dracula. It’s actually quite good on its own terms, with grandiose vocals and bone-chilling lyrics: “In the garish light of picture perfect hindsight, all the cloudy parts are clear.” But as a stark piano-driven ballad, it just doesn’t fit with the warmer, guitar-based sound of the rest of the album. Still, The Way Home… is a strong offering overall, and one of those rare albums that smartly bridges the gap between the admittedly hard-to-pinpoint subgenres of “singer/songwriter” and “alternative rock.” If you prefer to buy CDs instead of digital downloads, be sure to pop your disc into your computer for lyrics and intriguing interview material with Mr. Lipke himself.
For music and more information:
http://www.andrewlipke.com
http://www.myspace.com/andrewlipke
[Note: At the time of this writing, The Way Home... is available on iTunes, but with the tracks listed in a different order from the CD version.]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
The album opens strongly with the dark, brooding rocker “Untitled Song #1,” featuring a deranged vocal and surprisingly vicious lines such as “I wanna see you bleed and know that you still can” and “I wanna lock you up, I wanna watch you growing old and watch you die.” The motivational “Check Your Mirror” is brightened by an upbeat melody and Lipke’s fluid rockabilly guitar work, while the poetic, meditative “Green Street” has a warm domestic feel which undoubtedly came about because he wrote it with his wife Myriah. “The Fire” is a remake of a heart-wrenching rock ballad from his debut album, Ghosts, but this version gets a much more assured performance and an arrangement that truly complements Lipke’s vocals. “Stick By You” is a nifty little back porch ditty whose sarcastic lyrics read like the dark underbelly of standard marriage vows (here’s hoping he’s never sung this one to Myriah), while he stretches the limits of his upper register to devastating effect on the acoustic “My One And Only”; just try not to be moved when he casually tosses off lines like “the blood will drain away and the pain will slowly fade.”
“Standing Over You” is this decade’s “Hey Jude,” creeping up on you quietly with surprisingly-placed hooks, building gradually to a hypnotic, symphonic rideout. Music scribes live for tracks like this: anthemic and instantly accessible, with an outstanding vocal performance and production. It should be all over the radio and blasting out of car stereos everywhere across America. The odds are that it won’t reach such heights, but one can at least hope for a healthy number of (legal) downloads on this tune.
There isn’t a bad song on The Way Home…, but there are some selections that pale slightly in comparison to their album-mates. Though “Sideways Dreaming” and “Moving Back To Paradise” contain vivid lyrical imagery, they are rather vague attempts at social commentary and simply don’t have the same sharpness as Lipke’s songs about relationships. (“Paradise” is pleasing to the ears, however, capturing some of the feel of Pearl Jam’s “World Wide Suicide” but with greater sonic complexity.) “Downtrodden” would have been an exciting piece of alternative rock ten years ago; now, it’s just cozily familiar. Then there’s the closing track, “It’s Gone Out,” which is credited to Lipke but is more likely the result of a long-forgotten collaboration between Andrew Lloyd Webber and Count Dracula. It’s actually quite good on its own terms, with grandiose vocals and bone-chilling lyrics: “In the garish light of picture perfect hindsight, all the cloudy parts are clear.” But as a stark piano-driven ballad, it just doesn’t fit with the warmer, guitar-based sound of the rest of the album. Still, The Way Home… is a strong offering overall, and one of those rare albums that smartly bridges the gap between the admittedly hard-to-pinpoint subgenres of “singer/songwriter” and “alternative rock.” If you prefer to buy CDs instead of digital downloads, be sure to pop your disc into your computer for lyrics and intriguing interview material with Mr. Lipke himself.
For music and more information:
http://www.andrewlipke.com
http://www.myspace.com/andrewlipke
[Note: At the time of this writing, The Way Home... is available on iTunes, but with the tracks listed in a different order from the CD version.]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
DVD Review: Elvis on Sullivan
“Exciting” is the first word that comes to mind when thinking about Elvis: The Ed Sullivan Shows. For one thing, there’s Elvis himself: he’s captured here in the infancy of his superstardom, at the peak of his rockin’ form, giving some of the most revolutionary performances in the history of American popular music—and the history of American television. Which brings up another reason why this Image Entertainment DVD package is so exciting: it represents American cultural history in the making. The early days of television, the early days of rock ‘n’ roll, and two of the most venerable personalities of both art forms, coming together marvelously to form a union that is at once highly unlikely and highly touching. But perhaps the most exciting thing about this 2006 release is that it preserves these cultural artifacts for posterity, with a thoughtful, accessible presentation to boot.
Elvis Presley achieved mainstream popularity in 1956, when rock ‘n’ roll was still considered a wild new style that was bound to fade away once the kids grew up and developed more sophisticated tastes. Many adults hated this so-called music, but as long as rock ‘n’ roll artists were topping the charts, variety shows had to feature them. After all, variety shows of the time were supposed to provide “something for everyone”—and that included the teenagers with their crazy rock ‘n’ roll music. Meanwhile, Elvis Presley was already known for his wildman antics: flashy clothes, flamboyant vocals, sexually-charged hip and leg movements. There was nobody like him in showbiz at the time. He was a white man who sang in the style of black R&B artists and appropriated their rhythmic body movements. Yet he was not the charlatan that many made him out to be; he added a distinct country tinge that followed naturally from his Southern upbringing, helping to pioneer a new hybrid style that transcended numerous boundaries. After all, his single pairing “Don’t Be Cruel” and “Hound Dog” hit #1 on Billboard’s pop, R&B, and country charts. Yet he was every bit as divisive as he was a uniting force: while teenage girls shrieked in amazement and arousal at Elvis’ obvious sex appeal, their parents shrieked in horror at the qualities that stood in direct contrast to the arch-conservatism of the 1950s: his raucous, reckless sound and sexual openness. His willful mimicking of black music styles also raised quite a few eyebrows in those racially tense times.
And then there was Ed Sullivan, who made a name for himself as a writer and perhaps should have stayed in that position. In retrospect, he was the very antithesis of a television star: he was not good-looking, he had little discernible charm or wit, he was uptight and rigid, and he never seemed the least bit comfortable in front of a camera—he is still legendary for his tendency to flub practically everything he attempted to say. Why was he given his own TV show? Two reasons: one, he started out in the late 1940s, the very beginning of American television, when nobody really knew what to do with the brand-new medium. Two, he had a knack for spotting the hottest new acts in entertainment and booking them on his show. Yet his was always pitched as a family-friendly program; how would Elvis Presley fit in? Given the immense popularity of the greasy-haired singing sensation, it was only a matter of time before America found out.
Elvis: The Ed Sullivan Shows contains all three of the Ed Sullivan episodes in which Elvis performed, reprised in their entirety as they originally aired on September 9, 1956, October 28, 1956, and January 6, 1957. (The last of these is notorious because Elvis was filmed from the waist up due to his crazed stage behavior in his first two appearances.) One could argue that a DVD consisting solely of Elvis’ performances from these episodes would have served the purpose better, but getting the entire episodes on DVD allows viewers of today to appreciate the context in which Elvis reached unprecedented numbers of American television viewers over 50 years ago. On the first episode, for example, Sullivan was recuperating from a car accident, and this was actually a surprisingly fortunate turn of events. The gloriously uncouth British actor Charles Laughton served as guest host, sharing his off-color, totally inappropriate sense of humor with a presumably appalled audience. Elvis couldn’t possibly have seemed as shocking under these circumstances as he would have had Sullivan been on duty! And throughout all of these episodes, one gets a good idea of just how revolutionary rock ‘n’ roll was at the time. Look at the acts with whom Elvis shared the bill: Indian beauty Amru Sani and Rubenesque Brazilian Leny Eversong delivering dreadfully overwrought performances of popular songs; stage actors singing numbers from the musicals The King And I and The Most Happy Fella; Senor Wences and Arthur Worsley, two of the worst ventriloquists in the world (lest you think that “talent” means the ability to say “a gottle o’ geer” without moving your mouth); the effeminate daredevil acrobat Unus; and an extremely young Carol Burnett doing a hilarious musical comedy routine. But for those who want to go straight to the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” there is direct chapter access so that one can view each song or medley individually, plus there is an “Elvis-Only Playback Option” which allows viewers to watch all of Elvis’ performances from each episode in one fell swoop.
Elvis appears with his classic entourage: Bill Black on bass, Scotty Moore on guitar, D.J. Fontana on drums, and The Jordanaires on backup vocals. These performances are the stuff of legend, all participants brimming with energy and style. “Love Me Tender” proves to be a bit of a challenge for Elvis to perform under these urgent circumstances, but the rockers ROCK beyond belief. Elvis displays contrasting sides to his personality: for all his ostentatious behavior while he’s singing, he proves himself to be a shy, humble person when speaking to the audience. Even during his songs, he is clearly embarrassed and overwhelmed by the number of adoring fans who scream at him almost incessantly. This would explain why he often looks into the audience and chuckles mid-song, but from the number of lyrics he flubs (especially during “Too Much”), one can also surmise that he was nervous. He comes off as a gentle country boy who was not ready for life in the limelight, and this makes Elvis a tragic hero in some respects. It’s sad to think that someone so talented and so vital ended up becoming another statistic in the ages-old story of performers who were simply not ready for success when they found it. Nevertheless, Elvis gives it all he’s got and takes everything in stride; “Don’t Be Cruel” always comes off well, “When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again” is nice to hear in this setting, and his rendition of Little Richard’s “Ready Teddy” is truly electrifying. His dedication of the spiritual “Peace In The Valley” to the people of Hungary is especially moving. Hungary at the time was facing stiff Soviet opposition to its attempts to enact democratic reforms, and for Elvis to dedicate a religious song to that struggle was a keen move indeed; remember that in the Soviet bloc, religion was outlawed.
In addition to the actual episodes, the numerous special features give viewers a chance to gain intriguing insight into the relationship between Elvis and Ed Sullivan. Interviews with Sullivan’s producer Marlo Lewis, TV personality Wink Martindale, The Jordanaires’ Gordon Stoker, and Elvis’ friend Jerry Schilling illuminate both Elvis’ and Sullivan’s personalities, while Elvis-related clips of later Sullivan episodes indicate that the host really meant it when he famously described Elvis as a “decent, fine boy.” One can tell that Elvis Presley and Ed Sullivan, as different as they were, had a mutual and profound respect and admiration for each other, continuing to support each other’s endeavors long after Elvis’ final Sullivan appearance. An interesting aside about the special features: the back cover of the DVD box implies that the song “Colonel Tom” is an Elvis song, but in reality it is part of a performance by comedian John Byner. Byner’s appearance is from June 21, 1964, and the song is quite similar to Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say,” Elvis’ remake of same being his current hit at the time.
The package is bolstered by many more special features, excellent audio and video restoration, and an analytical essay by veteran rock scribe Greil Marcus. This well-conceived collection is a must-have for any rock ‘n’ roll fan who has even a passing interest in the genre’s history. Scratch that; it’s a must-have for anyone who has even a passing interest in the vast cultural history and legacy of these here United States.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Elvis Presley achieved mainstream popularity in 1956, when rock ‘n’ roll was still considered a wild new style that was bound to fade away once the kids grew up and developed more sophisticated tastes. Many adults hated this so-called music, but as long as rock ‘n’ roll artists were topping the charts, variety shows had to feature them. After all, variety shows of the time were supposed to provide “something for everyone”—and that included the teenagers with their crazy rock ‘n’ roll music. Meanwhile, Elvis Presley was already known for his wildman antics: flashy clothes, flamboyant vocals, sexually-charged hip and leg movements. There was nobody like him in showbiz at the time. He was a white man who sang in the style of black R&B artists and appropriated their rhythmic body movements. Yet he was not the charlatan that many made him out to be; he added a distinct country tinge that followed naturally from his Southern upbringing, helping to pioneer a new hybrid style that transcended numerous boundaries. After all, his single pairing “Don’t Be Cruel” and “Hound Dog” hit #1 on Billboard’s pop, R&B, and country charts. Yet he was every bit as divisive as he was a uniting force: while teenage girls shrieked in amazement and arousal at Elvis’ obvious sex appeal, their parents shrieked in horror at the qualities that stood in direct contrast to the arch-conservatism of the 1950s: his raucous, reckless sound and sexual openness. His willful mimicking of black music styles also raised quite a few eyebrows in those racially tense times.
And then there was Ed Sullivan, who made a name for himself as a writer and perhaps should have stayed in that position. In retrospect, he was the very antithesis of a television star: he was not good-looking, he had little discernible charm or wit, he was uptight and rigid, and he never seemed the least bit comfortable in front of a camera—he is still legendary for his tendency to flub practically everything he attempted to say. Why was he given his own TV show? Two reasons: one, he started out in the late 1940s, the very beginning of American television, when nobody really knew what to do with the brand-new medium. Two, he had a knack for spotting the hottest new acts in entertainment and booking them on his show. Yet his was always pitched as a family-friendly program; how would Elvis Presley fit in? Given the immense popularity of the greasy-haired singing sensation, it was only a matter of time before America found out.
Elvis: The Ed Sullivan Shows contains all three of the Ed Sullivan episodes in which Elvis performed, reprised in their entirety as they originally aired on September 9, 1956, October 28, 1956, and January 6, 1957. (The last of these is notorious because Elvis was filmed from the waist up due to his crazed stage behavior in his first two appearances.) One could argue that a DVD consisting solely of Elvis’ performances from these episodes would have served the purpose better, but getting the entire episodes on DVD allows viewers of today to appreciate the context in which Elvis reached unprecedented numbers of American television viewers over 50 years ago. On the first episode, for example, Sullivan was recuperating from a car accident, and this was actually a surprisingly fortunate turn of events. The gloriously uncouth British actor Charles Laughton served as guest host, sharing his off-color, totally inappropriate sense of humor with a presumably appalled audience. Elvis couldn’t possibly have seemed as shocking under these circumstances as he would have had Sullivan been on duty! And throughout all of these episodes, one gets a good idea of just how revolutionary rock ‘n’ roll was at the time. Look at the acts with whom Elvis shared the bill: Indian beauty Amru Sani and Rubenesque Brazilian Leny Eversong delivering dreadfully overwrought performances of popular songs; stage actors singing numbers from the musicals The King And I and The Most Happy Fella; Senor Wences and Arthur Worsley, two of the worst ventriloquists in the world (lest you think that “talent” means the ability to say “a gottle o’ geer” without moving your mouth); the effeminate daredevil acrobat Unus; and an extremely young Carol Burnett doing a hilarious musical comedy routine. But for those who want to go straight to the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” there is direct chapter access so that one can view each song or medley individually, plus there is an “Elvis-Only Playback Option” which allows viewers to watch all of Elvis’ performances from each episode in one fell swoop.
Elvis appears with his classic entourage: Bill Black on bass, Scotty Moore on guitar, D.J. Fontana on drums, and The Jordanaires on backup vocals. These performances are the stuff of legend, all participants brimming with energy and style. “Love Me Tender” proves to be a bit of a challenge for Elvis to perform under these urgent circumstances, but the rockers ROCK beyond belief. Elvis displays contrasting sides to his personality: for all his ostentatious behavior while he’s singing, he proves himself to be a shy, humble person when speaking to the audience. Even during his songs, he is clearly embarrassed and overwhelmed by the number of adoring fans who scream at him almost incessantly. This would explain why he often looks into the audience and chuckles mid-song, but from the number of lyrics he flubs (especially during “Too Much”), one can also surmise that he was nervous. He comes off as a gentle country boy who was not ready for life in the limelight, and this makes Elvis a tragic hero in some respects. It’s sad to think that someone so talented and so vital ended up becoming another statistic in the ages-old story of performers who were simply not ready for success when they found it. Nevertheless, Elvis gives it all he’s got and takes everything in stride; “Don’t Be Cruel” always comes off well, “When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again” is nice to hear in this setting, and his rendition of Little Richard’s “Ready Teddy” is truly electrifying. His dedication of the spiritual “Peace In The Valley” to the people of Hungary is especially moving. Hungary at the time was facing stiff Soviet opposition to its attempts to enact democratic reforms, and for Elvis to dedicate a religious song to that struggle was a keen move indeed; remember that in the Soviet bloc, religion was outlawed.
In addition to the actual episodes, the numerous special features give viewers a chance to gain intriguing insight into the relationship between Elvis and Ed Sullivan. Interviews with Sullivan’s producer Marlo Lewis, TV personality Wink Martindale, The Jordanaires’ Gordon Stoker, and Elvis’ friend Jerry Schilling illuminate both Elvis’ and Sullivan’s personalities, while Elvis-related clips of later Sullivan episodes indicate that the host really meant it when he famously described Elvis as a “decent, fine boy.” One can tell that Elvis Presley and Ed Sullivan, as different as they were, had a mutual and profound respect and admiration for each other, continuing to support each other’s endeavors long after Elvis’ final Sullivan appearance. An interesting aside about the special features: the back cover of the DVD box implies that the song “Colonel Tom” is an Elvis song, but in reality it is part of a performance by comedian John Byner. Byner’s appearance is from June 21, 1964, and the song is quite similar to Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say,” Elvis’ remake of same being his current hit at the time.
The package is bolstered by many more special features, excellent audio and video restoration, and an analytical essay by veteran rock scribe Greil Marcus. This well-conceived collection is a must-have for any rock ‘n’ roll fan who has even a passing interest in the genre’s history. Scratch that; it’s a must-have for anyone who has even a passing interest in the vast cultural history and legacy of these here United States.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
You call that music?!?!
Never one to shy away from controversy, I’ve decided to tackle one of the most persistent issues affecting popular music: the generation gap. Let’s take a look at some of the prevalent attitudes about the subject and see what I think of them.
1. “Today’s music doesn’t have the same kinds of melodies, harmonies, and attitude that the music of my youth had!”
It’s not supposed to. If it did, it wouldn’t be today’s music. And if you can relate to the sentiment in quotation marks, let me ask you this: exactly what good does it do to harp on the fact that today’s music is different from yesterday’s music? If you grew up in the ‘50s and your parents complained that Bill Haley didn’t sound like Glenn Miller, that didn’t make Bill Haley sound like Glenn Miller. If you grew up in the ‘70s and your parents complained that Aerosmith didn’t sound like Bill Haley, that didn’t make Aerosmith sound like Bill Haley. In fact, in such cases all your parents did was judge your generation’s music based on what it wasn’t. They made no attempt to evaluate it on its own terms and thus completely missed the point of it. If they had taken it at face value, they may still have disliked it, but the simple fact of the matter is that they were too narrow-minded to give it a fair chance. Don’t be just as narrow-minded with today’s music.
2. “It seems like you no longer need talent to make it!”
It’s been a long time since anyone needed talent to make it. As much as it pains me to say this, I think early rock ‘n’ roll was to blame. In the 1950s, rock ‘n’ roll appealed mostly to teenagers; furthermore, many adults at the time thought of rock ‘n’ roll as nothing but a bunch of noise with a pounding beat. It was only a matter of time until enterprising businessmen realized that you could take a cute kid, have him or her make some records with a beat, and watch as smitten teenagers bought that artist’s records and gazed amorously at him or her during live performances—even if he or she had no talent. Fabian was the original archetype of the teen idol who couldn’t sing. For crying out loud, Fabian himself admitted that he couldn’t sing!
Today, the problem has indeed gotten worse because of technology. There was only so much doctoring that could be done to Fabian’s voice in 1959; have a good listen to any of his records and you can instantly sense his lack of vocal skill. But now, recording technology is so advanced that one could conceivably record a song one note at a time, apply electronic pitch correction to every note, string the notes together, and end up with a seamless mix sounding like one perfect take. Thus, a singer who can’t sing can nonetheless sound good on record. But ultimately, talent is still a vital asset. Look at what happened to Ashlee Simpson, for example: one little goof on Saturday Night Live and suddenly everyone knew that she lip-synched to pre-recorded vocal tracks when she performed “live.” From that point onward, she had to actually sing live in order to prove that she could. Unfortunately, these actual live performances proved nothing except that she had a limited range and poor breath control. Whenever she was introduced on television, many audience members would greet her by booing. By means of damage control, she had to rush out a follow-up album and make an apologetic second appearance on Saturday Night Live. That was back in 2005, but even now her name is still bandied about as a joke in and of itself.
3. “How can young people listen to this stuff?”
Because we genuinely like what's out there today. Not everyone likes everything that’s currently on the charts, but that’s always been (and always will be) the case. The point is that we like at least some of today’s music because it speaks to us on a different level than anything else; it was made for us and, in many cases, by us. From my writing you can tell that I like oldies, but oldies were made for someone else and I just so happened to discover them and enjoy them. When I find something contemporary that I really dig, it reaffirms my youth more than anything else. It also makes me feel confident that great music is still being made and that I don’t have to reach into the past to find high levels of quality.
4. If you like today’s music, you don’t like older music, and vice versa.
In my experience, this is not something that a lot of people say; it’s something that they imply. I’ve lost track of how many times it has happened that someone learns of my affinity for oldies and then proceeds to trash my generation’s music as if I am not a member of my own generation! Well, if you doubt that someone can love music from more than one era, just look through One Note Ahead.
5. “Contemporary music doesn’t appeal to me, but since I’m over the age of 40, I know it’s not supposed to.”
Actually, that’s just a matter of personal taste. A few years ago I had a friend who was in his late 40s and he happily owned at least one Backstreet Boys CD and was gushing about how Incubus' "Drive" was one of his favorite songs at the time. My mother is almost 60 and she constantly puts me to shame with her knowledge of contemporary rock—admittedly my rock ‘n’ roll IQ is more “yesterday” than “today.” And I’ll never forget one particular appearance by Liza Minnelli on Tony Danza’s now-departed daytime talk show. Danza asked Minnelli whom she admires and without hesitation she replied, "Maroon 5." She then went on and on about how great a singer that band's Adam Levine is. I could cite plenty more examples, but you get my point.
6. There’s such a thing as being too young to know about a certain artist.
Like when an unsuspecting concertgoer told a 21-year-old musician friend of mine that she’s too young to be influenced by Led Zeppelin. I rubbed his face in the fact that I dressed up as Roy Orbison for Halloween in 1997, when I was merely 16 years old. He became visibly uncomfortable; needless to say, I was pleased. There really is a definite double standard at play when it comes to this philosophy of being “too young.” After all, young musicians all the time say that they’re influenced by The Beatles or The Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan, and that’s perfectly acceptable. But Led Zeppelin? Nope, sorry.
The truth is that you simply have no way of knowing what people have been exposed to in their youth. Last year I saw ‘50s pop pianist Roger Williams on the public television special Moments To Remember, explaining how amazed he gets when young people tell him they know his music. I can only quote from memory, but he said that he responds, “You’re too young to even know who I am! After all, I am 81 years old!” The young people then reply, “Oh, no, my grandparents played your records all the time when I was growing up.” As of the taping of that program, he still got floored by such statements.
7. “I hate today’s music! That is, if you can even CALL it music! I just don’t get how anybody can like this crap!”
Music touches people on a profoundly personal level. There's just no arguing matters of taste. If you don’t like something, don’t listen to it. If it’s a song you can’t get away from no matter how you try, learn to tune it out. And if you miss the way music used to sound, listen to older music.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my soapbox is caving in.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
1. “Today’s music doesn’t have the same kinds of melodies, harmonies, and attitude that the music of my youth had!”
It’s not supposed to. If it did, it wouldn’t be today’s music. And if you can relate to the sentiment in quotation marks, let me ask you this: exactly what good does it do to harp on the fact that today’s music is different from yesterday’s music? If you grew up in the ‘50s and your parents complained that Bill Haley didn’t sound like Glenn Miller, that didn’t make Bill Haley sound like Glenn Miller. If you grew up in the ‘70s and your parents complained that Aerosmith didn’t sound like Bill Haley, that didn’t make Aerosmith sound like Bill Haley. In fact, in such cases all your parents did was judge your generation’s music based on what it wasn’t. They made no attempt to evaluate it on its own terms and thus completely missed the point of it. If they had taken it at face value, they may still have disliked it, but the simple fact of the matter is that they were too narrow-minded to give it a fair chance. Don’t be just as narrow-minded with today’s music.
2. “It seems like you no longer need talent to make it!”
It’s been a long time since anyone needed talent to make it. As much as it pains me to say this, I think early rock ‘n’ roll was to blame. In the 1950s, rock ‘n’ roll appealed mostly to teenagers; furthermore, many adults at the time thought of rock ‘n’ roll as nothing but a bunch of noise with a pounding beat. It was only a matter of time until enterprising businessmen realized that you could take a cute kid, have him or her make some records with a beat, and watch as smitten teenagers bought that artist’s records and gazed amorously at him or her during live performances—even if he or she had no talent. Fabian was the original archetype of the teen idol who couldn’t sing. For crying out loud, Fabian himself admitted that he couldn’t sing!
Today, the problem has indeed gotten worse because of technology. There was only so much doctoring that could be done to Fabian’s voice in 1959; have a good listen to any of his records and you can instantly sense his lack of vocal skill. But now, recording technology is so advanced that one could conceivably record a song one note at a time, apply electronic pitch correction to every note, string the notes together, and end up with a seamless mix sounding like one perfect take. Thus, a singer who can’t sing can nonetheless sound good on record. But ultimately, talent is still a vital asset. Look at what happened to Ashlee Simpson, for example: one little goof on Saturday Night Live and suddenly everyone knew that she lip-synched to pre-recorded vocal tracks when she performed “live.” From that point onward, she had to actually sing live in order to prove that she could. Unfortunately, these actual live performances proved nothing except that she had a limited range and poor breath control. Whenever she was introduced on television, many audience members would greet her by booing. By means of damage control, she had to rush out a follow-up album and make an apologetic second appearance on Saturday Night Live. That was back in 2005, but even now her name is still bandied about as a joke in and of itself.
3. “How can young people listen to this stuff?”
Because we genuinely like what's out there today. Not everyone likes everything that’s currently on the charts, but that’s always been (and always will be) the case. The point is that we like at least some of today’s music because it speaks to us on a different level than anything else; it was made for us and, in many cases, by us. From my writing you can tell that I like oldies, but oldies were made for someone else and I just so happened to discover them and enjoy them. When I find something contemporary that I really dig, it reaffirms my youth more than anything else. It also makes me feel confident that great music is still being made and that I don’t have to reach into the past to find high levels of quality.
4. If you like today’s music, you don’t like older music, and vice versa.
In my experience, this is not something that a lot of people say; it’s something that they imply. I’ve lost track of how many times it has happened that someone learns of my affinity for oldies and then proceeds to trash my generation’s music as if I am not a member of my own generation! Well, if you doubt that someone can love music from more than one era, just look through One Note Ahead.
5. “Contemporary music doesn’t appeal to me, but since I’m over the age of 40, I know it’s not supposed to.”
Actually, that’s just a matter of personal taste. A few years ago I had a friend who was in his late 40s and he happily owned at least one Backstreet Boys CD and was gushing about how Incubus' "Drive" was one of his favorite songs at the time. My mother is almost 60 and she constantly puts me to shame with her knowledge of contemporary rock—admittedly my rock ‘n’ roll IQ is more “yesterday” than “today.” And I’ll never forget one particular appearance by Liza Minnelli on Tony Danza’s now-departed daytime talk show. Danza asked Minnelli whom she admires and without hesitation she replied, "Maroon 5." She then went on and on about how great a singer that band's Adam Levine is. I could cite plenty more examples, but you get my point.
6. There’s such a thing as being too young to know about a certain artist.
Like when an unsuspecting concertgoer told a 21-year-old musician friend of mine that she’s too young to be influenced by Led Zeppelin. I rubbed his face in the fact that I dressed up as Roy Orbison for Halloween in 1997, when I was merely 16 years old. He became visibly uncomfortable; needless to say, I was pleased. There really is a definite double standard at play when it comes to this philosophy of being “too young.” After all, young musicians all the time say that they’re influenced by The Beatles or The Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan, and that’s perfectly acceptable. But Led Zeppelin? Nope, sorry.
The truth is that you simply have no way of knowing what people have been exposed to in their youth. Last year I saw ‘50s pop pianist Roger Williams on the public television special Moments To Remember, explaining how amazed he gets when young people tell him they know his music. I can only quote from memory, but he said that he responds, “You’re too young to even know who I am! After all, I am 81 years old!” The young people then reply, “Oh, no, my grandparents played your records all the time when I was growing up.” As of the taping of that program, he still got floored by such statements.
7. “I hate today’s music! That is, if you can even CALL it music! I just don’t get how anybody can like this crap!”
Music touches people on a profoundly personal level. There's just no arguing matters of taste. If you don’t like something, don’t listen to it. If it’s a song you can’t get away from no matter how you try, learn to tune it out. And if you miss the way music used to sound, listen to older music.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my soapbox is caving in.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
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