Category: Music

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Michael Jackson: “Death by Show Business”?

By Jim Spiegel

The death of Michael Jackson last week is in some ways a distinctively American tragedy.  While there is nothing new under the sun about the soul-crushing effects of fame and fortune, the dynamics involved in the demise of the greatest pop icon of his generation are eerily familiar.  Anyone acquainted with the details of the decline and fall of mj-early1Elvis Presley—who, oddly enough, was posthumous father-in-law to Jacko—knows that both men followed the same basic pattern of descent.  Like Presley, Jackson was surrounded by a posse of enablers—people who catered to his whims, including providing him with drugs, while ignoring his declining health, just so they could maintain his approval and, of course, financially benefit.  Sadly, the parallels to the Elvis tragedy are many.

American mega-stardom is a soul-eating monster, and it basically works as follows.  The star rises to renown because of some talent, such as singing, acting, or athletic ability.  As his fame and wealth grow, so do media attention and the onslaught of paparazzi which destroy any privacy the star once had.  Along with this there usually come criticisms, rumors, and accusations of various kinds which make the star defensive or even paranoid about his personal safety and perhaps the safety of his family.  This prompts the star to form an inner circle of advisors to guard his interests, thus creating the celebrity “ghetto effect”—completely insulating him from the “real world.”  At this point he lives in an artificial private world, where all those  around do his bidding.  At the same time, the star’s accountability for personal behavior is diminished, perhaps even lost, as the inner circle is paid exorbitant amounts of money by the star.  Fearing dismissal and a loss of their own fortune, the inner circle becomes a team of “yes” men.  What was intended as a protective belt of security for the star is now a lethal nest of parasites, whose success in feeding off their host must eventually destroy him.

mj-mid1This pattern is not reserved for mega-stars, by the way, but seems to apply, to some degree, to anyone who finds himself in a position of power and prestige.  Remember that money fuels this machine, so the more money, the more ugly the potential results.  The likes of Howard Hughes, Elvis Presley, and, now, Michael Jackson just happen to be the more glaring cases, because of the circumstances of their deaths—tragic neglect despite their many “caretakers.”  But as tragic as these stories are, who knows how the moral neglect in these and similar cases has resulted in deaths of an even more tragic nature—the deaths of the souls of the rich and famous.

To what shall we compare celebrity in the American entertainment culture?  Celebrity is like a tidal wave that rises in part by its own force but gains most of its strength and momentum by its surroundings.  All of these forces which make its crest so impressive also guarantee its disastrous crash.

A while back Amy and I discussed some of the vocations that we envisioned our kids heading into when they become adults.  As we shared our thoughts, we found that we had many conflicting intuitions and expectations.  Then one of us posed the question, “What profession would you least like to see your son or daughter go into?”  Here we easily agreed:  Any line of work that encourages self-exaltation and, when successfully done, brings enormous wealth.  In mj-late-on-stand1short, we just don’t want our kids to have fame and fortune.  Some rare celebrities do appear to make it through this “eye of the needle” with their faith and moral compass intact (Bono seems, thus far, to be an example—though at a dear price, I’m sure he would admit).  But we would prefer that our kids—or anyone we love, for that matter—not be subjected to the moral-spiritual poisons of celebrity.

As Morrissey once sang, “Fame, fame, fatal fame—it can play hideous tricks on the brain.”  Indeed, so does extreme wealth.  As we consider the tragic case of Michael Jackson, it would be good for all of us to remember that, for all its macabre circus-like twists and turns, his story is not unique in this crucial sense:  He succumbed to the temptations and mind-warping influences of his mega-stardom.  And I suspect that the overwhelming majority of the rest of us would do so as well.

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Together Through Life

By Jim Spiegel

A few months ago Bob Dylan surprised everyone—including his record company—with the announcement that he had recorded a new album, and last month Together Through Life was released, to the jubilance of Dylan cronies like me everywhere.  At nearly 68 years of age, the great rock bard is nearing the end of his extraordinary career.  So each new album is a yet more precious gift.  What is most remarkable is that late-period Dylan is arguably his very best.  The most recent trio of albums—including Love and Theft, Modern Times, and Together Through Life—form what I have begun calling Dylan’s Americana Trilogy, all having been produced by Jack Frost (Dylan’s pseudonym as record producer) and showcasing a rootsy, relaxed kind of energy to match consistently strong compositions.  However many more albums he records, the first decade of the 21st century will surely go down as a peak Dylan period.

200px-together_through_lifeDylan’s voice is now a gravelly rasp but still quite capable of delivering powerful emotions, startling metaphors, and home truths.  Dylan smartly surrounds his vocals with equally raw instrumentation, including David Hidalgo’s accordion which graces most of the songs on the album.  What no one seems to have noticed is the prominence of guitar work on this album, thanks especially to Mike Campbell (of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame).  No other Dylan album (among the 30+ he has recorded) features so many guitar solos.  In fact, there are multiple solos on most of the songs—gritty but melodic stuff that richly accents the lyrics.

Here’s a quick survey of the tracks, most of which Dylan co-wrote with Grateful Dead wordsmith, Robert Hunter:

“Beyond Here Lies Nothin'” – This minor-key tex-mex rocker is the ideal opener for this song cycle, setting the mood for the album which consistently makes the listener feel like he’s sitting in a smoke-filled border town café.  Think Carlos Santana meets Los Lobos, with a generous helping of 1950s Sun Records spontaneity:  “I’m movin’ after midnight down boulevard of broken cars; don’t know what I’d do with out it—without this love that we call ours.  Beyond here lies nothin’—nothin’ but the moon and stars.”

“Life is Hard” – This song was the seed crystal of the entire project, as Dylan and his band went into the studio to record to this tune for the upcoming film My Own Love Song and it ballooned into an album project.  This slow swinging romantic ballad is deceptively complex musically—one of Dylan’s most sophisticated ever.  An instant classic, really, that won’t be immediately recognized as such because Dylan’s voice isn’t strong or nimble enough to do it justice.  But in the hands of a capable jazz singer, the genius of this song would become apparent.  If only Nina Simone were still alive…

“My Wife’s Home Town” – This stark brooding tune works as an anthem for every husband who’s been tortured by his wife’s disapproval:  “She can make you steal, make you rob, give you the hives, make you lose your job.  She can make things bad; she can make things worse.  She’s got stuff more potent than a gypsy curse.”  In spite of this, he confesses, “my love for her is all I know.”  In many ways, this song’s black humor typifies the entire album.

“If You Ever Go to Houston” – An upbeat nostalgic piece featuring a tasty interplay of classical guitar, organ, accordion, and pedal-steel guitar.  “If you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.  Keep your hands in your pockets and hang your gun belt tight.  You’ll be asking for trouble, if you look for a fight.”  But, as with most of these songs, the lyric redounds to his own emotions:  “Put my tears in a bottle, screw the top on tight; if you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.”

“Forgetful Heart” – Another minor-key meditation, at turns sad and angry, featuring a dark swirl of quiet guitar distortion.  In the face of lost love, Dylan sings “the door has closed forevermore, if indeed there ever was a door”—one of those lines with potentially endless applications to life situations.  Is it regret?  Exasperation?  A sense of futility in the hands of cruel fate?  Perhaps all of the above.

“Jolene” – In the refrain to this rollicking bluesy number the singer declares to his lover, “I am the king and you are the queen.”  But the irony is that despite his pronouncements, it is he who is ruled by his lover.  Dueling guitar solos punctuate the song and drive home the theme.

“This Dream of You” – A mournful quasi-waltz draped with accordion, violin, and a plaintive refrain:  “All I have and all I know is this dream of you which keeps me living on.”  This is another song which, like “Life is Hard,” displays a surprising musical elegance.  While one of the greatest writers of blues music, Dylan’s reach as a composer extends into diverse genres, even parlor jazz and show tunes, as each album in the Americana Trilogy demonstrates.

“Shake Shake Mama” – A rocking blues tune with more gut-punching dueling guitars and humorous social commentary:  “Some of you women really know your stuff; but your clothes are all torn and your language is a little too rough.”  But, at bottom, it’s a blues song, as Dylan declares, “I’m fatherless, motherless, and almost friendless too.”

“I Feel a Change Comin’ On” – This is a bouncy tune with an optimistic musical vibe offset by a melancholic lyric.  “Life is for love, and they say that love is blind.  If you want to live easy, baby, pack your clothes with mine.”  Again, however, the happiness is derailed:  “Well, now what’s the use in dreaming.  You’ve got better things to do.  Dreams never did work for me anyway even when they did come true.”

“Its all Good” – If Together Through Life is essentially a musical dark comedy, then its signature song is this closer.  Some reviewers have actually called it upbeat and positive.  Chalk one up for superficial assessment.  This is a sardonic jest at the shallow optimism behind the idiom of the song title.  But this seems lost on some listeners, in spite of lines like these:  “People in the country, people on the land, some of them so sick they can hardly stand.  Everybody would move away, if they could.  It’s hard to believe, but its all good.”  And this:  “The widows cry.  The orphans bleed.  Everywhere you look, there’s more misery.  Come along with me.  I wish you would.  You know what I’m saying—it’s all good.”  Right.  The truth is things are very far from all good.  In fact, nothing in this world is all good, as Dylan has been reminding us for almost fifty years.  This world is a tragic place, and we’ll eventually lose our sanity if we don’t follow the implicit advice of the album’s title.

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New Albums by Morrissey and U2: A Study in Worldview Contrasts

By Jim Spiegel

When I heard last Fall that new albums were forthcoming from both Morrissey and U2, I was thrilled.  Not only are they two of my favorite musical artists of the last 20+ years, but they have established themselves as among the most important of their time.  Naturally, I was hopeful that their new records would be good, but being a realist about the fact that the quality of a band’s or songwriter’s work tends to wane over the years, I braced myself for disappointment.  If just one of these albums was strong, I’d be satisfied. 

Well, my most optimistic hopes were realized.  Both Morrissey’s Years of Refusal and U2’s No Line on the Horizon are excellent, once again proving the staying power of these artists.  In the latter case, however, it’s a more significant achievement.  I have noticed that most bands have approximately a ten year period of inspired creativity, after which the quality of their music begins to diminish.  This seems true of all the great bands which remained together for more than a decade, e.g. The Rolling Stones, The Who, Queen, Pink Floyd, REM, etc.  It also seemed true of U2, since after their 1991 classic Achtung Baby their work has been good but not great.  However, No Line on the Horizon breaks this trend, and the ten year hex just noted, in dramatic fashion.  From the mesmerizing and addictive opening title track to the eerie closer, “Cedars of Lebanon,” Bono and his mates seem inspired.  Lyrically, Bono has yet more to say and has found new ways to say the things he’s already said.  Musically, the Irish lads have managed—even in their 30th year as a band—to explore new territory, both in terms of chord structures and production approaches.

Meanwhile, the Moz has made his own strides on Years of Refusal, which is one of the strongest of his solo career now spanning more than two decades.  It is also one of his most energetic, as many of the songs were tracked live, and Jerry Finn’s deft production preserves an immediacy of feeling on the other tracks as well.  Morrissey’s voice is as strong and rich as ever, and his slowly revolving cast of supporting musicians serves the songs well, filling the album with memorable hooks and phrases.

So I’ve been enjoying both of these albums immensely.  But as I’ve listened, I’ve been struck by the stark contrast in worldviews.  Interestingly, both Years of Refusal and No Line on the Horizontypify the personalities and values of Morrissey and U2, respectively.  In fact, one might say that each album is a definitive statement of sorts for each artist, at least relative to their output thus far.  And I would sum up the prevailing themes as follows.  For Morrissey, it boils down to temporality, resentment, and despair, while for U2, the thematic core is eternity, grace, and hope.

Temporality vs. Eternity

Morrissey’s preoccupation with his mortality was especially keen on his previous album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, but the theme shows up on Years as well, with such lines as these: “time grips you slyly in its spell and before you know, goodbye will be farewell, and you will never see the one you love again” (“One Day Goodbye Will be Farewell”).  For the Pope of Mope, life is a bitter struggle where “Only stone and steel accept my love” (I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris”) and “To the rescue nobody ever comes” (“When Last I Spoke to Carol”).  And the best he can do in the way of final comfort is to consider how death might end it all, and “we will be safe and sheltered in our graves” (“Momma Lay Softly on the Riverbed”).  But for U2, the expectation of afterlife is an abiding source of comfort.  In “Get On Your Boots” Bono assures us, “laughter is eternity, if joy is real.”  His joy is to “magnify” his Maker, as he sings, “I was born to be with you…  I was born to sing for you.  I give you back my voice.  From the womb, my first cry was a joyful noise” (“Magnificent”).  But perhaps nowhere is the theme of eternity more clear than in the title of the album and title track:  “No line on the horizon.”  For those who have eternal life, as is the hope of every Christian such as Bono, there is no such line because there is no end to what lies ahead for us.

Resentment vs. Grace

The Christian hope of eternal life is, of course, the result of divine grace and forgiveness, which comes to us through Christ.  Bono sings passionately about this grace, especially in “White as Snow,” the potency of which is underscored by the fact that the melody is a variation of that from the classic hymn “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”):  “Once I knew there was a love divine.  Then there came a time I thought it knew me not.  Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not?  Only the lamb as white as snow” (“White as Snow”).  In contrast to this, sadly, Morrissey’s world is one of self-loathing and resentment.  In one of his more sardonic songs on Years of Refusal, he sings, “It’s not your birthday anymore.  There’s no need to be kind to you.  And the will to see you smile and belong has now gone” (“Its Not Your Birthday Anymore”).  And his own refusal to forgive—perhaps offering the key to interpreting the album title—is plain in “Sorry Doesn’t Help”:  “Sorries pour out of you…like a QC full of fake humility. But sorry doesn’t help us, and sorry will not save us.  And sorry will not bring my teen years back to me….  Sorry won’t undo all the good gone wrong.”

Despair vs. Hope

So for the Moz, in the end there is only despair.  “There is no hope in modern life,” he tells us in “Something is Squeezing My Skull.”  And elsewhere he stoically declares “Disappointment came to me and booted me and bruised and hurt me but that’s how people grow up” (“That’s How People Grow Up”).  And in the closing track he sums up his own experience accordingly: “Could this be an arm around my waist?  Well, surely the hand contains a knife.  It’s been so all of my life.  Why change now?  It hasn’t!  Now this might surprise you, but I find I’m okay by myself” (“I’m OK By Myself”)  Or so Morrissey tries to convince us (and himself?).  These are the album’s lyrical book ends:  “I’m doing very well” and “I’m okay by myself.”  But in between its all angry despair.  Indeed, Morrissey’s world is a lonely one.  Things couldn’t be more different in U2’s world, where Bono proclaims, “I know I’m not alone” (“I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight”).  There is plenty of pain and sorrow, but it is redeemed:  “This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue.  Only love can leave such a mark.  But only love can heal such a scar.  Only love unites our hearts” (“Magnificent”).  There is a profound and exhilarating sense of purpose:  “Every day I die again, and again I’m reborn.  Every day I have to find the courage to walk out into the street with arms out.  Got a love you can’t defeat, neither down nor out.  There’s nothing you have that I need.  I can breathe” (“Breathe”).  And there is that final hope:  “We’re gonna make it all the way to the light” (“I’ll go Crazy”).

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Spiegel’s Pick for Band of the Year

By Jim Spiegel

I recall reading a review of the Smiths’ 1986 album The Queen is Dead in which the writer gushed about the lyrical genius of their front man—a very young Steven Patrick Morrissey. The reviewer’s closing line stuck with me, because it rang true and because it struck me as a particularly bold prediction. “This guy,” he said regarding Morrissey, “is going to be around for a long time.” Well, over two decades later, Morrissey is still churning out great records and has proven to be one of rock music’s finest songsmiths. It all seems so obvious now, but how could that reviewer have been so sure?

Recently, I’ve come to a similar conclusion regarding the frontman of another band, coincidentally upon the release of their third studio album (as TQID was for the Smiths). The band is the Killers, and the frontman and main lyricist is Brandon Flowers. It wasn’t until last year that I purchased my first Killers album—their debut, Hot Fuss, by which I was pleasantly surprised, especially by the quality of songwriting. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that “Mr. Brightside” and “All These Things That I’ve Done” were instant classics and that there was an artistic vision here that transcended the band’s pop icon status. (Remember, folks, even the Beatles were very popular AND—eventually—avant-garde artists. And no, I don’t mean to put the Killers on the same level as the immortal Liverpudlians.)

Next, I picked up Sam’s Town, the Killers’ tepidly received sophomore effort, which is as underrated an album as I know of—though it certainly has its flaws (mainly the ill-advised “Enterlude” and “Exitlude,” the cheerful moods of which clash with the somber themes on the rest of the album). Sam’s Town, too, has its gems, including “Read My Mind” and the title track. But most significantly this album demonstrated the band’s willingness to explore and evolve, musically as well as lyrically. Certain thematic patterns also began to emerge, most notably Flowers’ disillusionment with fame and his sense of mortality—which is particularly acute for a guy in his mid-twenties.

With their latest release, Day and Age, the Killers have hit their stride, both in terms of matching musical form to lyrical content (the album has a strong dance vibe, owing to the production of Stuart Price) and in terms of songwriting subtlety. There are more instant classics: “Human,” “Neon Tiger,” and “Spaceman.” The latter of these is an especially brilliant piece of songwriting, as Flowers deftly uses an alien abduction as a metaphor for the corrosive effects of fame. And the ambiguous “Neon Tiger” might refer to the band themselves as they wrestle with the temptations of their own celebrity:

Far from the evergreen of old Assam
Far from the rainfall on the trails of old Saigon
straight from the poster town of scorn and ritz
To bring you the wilder side of gold and glitz

But neon tiger there’s a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don’t you let them get you
Away, away, away
Under the heat of the southwest sun

This sounds like a self-exhortation—from and for a band that hails from the “town of scorn and ritz”—Las Vegas. Ironically, in spite of the superficiality of their hometown, this is a band that does have “a lot on [their] mind.” Will they eventually succumb to the cruel vortex of fame and the relentless demons of celebrity? Time will tell. But for now, Brandon Flowers seems resolute in his will to resist, all the while growing as a songsmith. At this rate, it would appear, this guy is going to be around for a long time.

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Stubbing My Toe on the Stumbling Block of Tradition

By Amy Spiegel

I love tradition. If ever we do anything the same way twice (the same holiday routine, the same vacation spot, the same meal two Saturdays in a row), I immediately want to canonize it and say that we have to do it the same way every year. When Christmas time rolls around, I try to find as many ways as humanly possible to “create” tradition while Jim huddles in a corner somewhere, waiting out the storm of my enthusiasm. We have to listen to the same Christmas CD while putting up the tree, eat the same foods, use the same ornaments, etc. This also applies to my church-going routine. If I could convince my family to attend a church that played only hymns from the first century A.D. sung in Latin, I would do it. I am greatly comforted by the knowledge that if I am in error, I can blame some guy with a funny name who died thousands of years ago who may or may not have shaken the hand of our Lord and Savior. Sadly there are no such churches in our area so we have settled on a reformed church with one foot solidly planted in traditional worship and maybe a big toe and a few smaller appendages dabbling in the territory of the more contemporary.

Anyhoo, when we are visiting my greatly esteemed parents, we have occasion to visit their church. It is a good church and the preaching is excellent but the worship style is definitely a stretch for my traditional tastes. On a recent visit, I was struggling with both the style and content of a string of choruses, when a realization hit me like a censer between the eyes. (According to Wikipedia a censer is a small metal or stone dish used for burning incense which in the Roman Catholic Church is suspended on chains.) The reason I object to so many of the modern choruses is what I perceive to be an overemphasis on our emotional response to God. It isn’t that I am against emotion in general. (Just ask my kids, who enjoy forcing me to read “The Giving Tree” or “The Story of the Three Trees” just to watch me blubber like a whale on hormones at the end of each.) I love classic hymns because they tend to focus our attention on God’s attributes and his saving works, and my pigheaded self-centeredness needs all the refocusing it can get. But what I hadn’t realized was that although there are certainly some doctrinally justifiable objections to a number of choruses making the rounds these days, I was not responding based on such reason. I was responding with my emotions. I don’t like that style and it doesn’t make me feel like I am worshiping God.

I believe that there are some objective standards by which we can evaluate sacred music. (Like, for starters, could we have an actual melody that most of us can sing? And is it mandatory to repeat the chorus fourteen times? Just a thought. Not that I am bitter or anything.) But I do believe that there is a lot of room for diversity here, and we (okay, I) need to be careful that worship is what it is meant to be—an expression of our obedience to God, not an expression of how we are feeling at the moment. And if I like to worship in the traditional (read: correct) ways and you like to worship in the contemporary (read: slightly less correct but perfectly within the bounds of orthodoxy) ways, then that’s okay. Yes, we should hold one another accountable to standards of excellence in both content and form. But within those standards there is a great deal of room for diversity, just as there is a great deal of diversity within the body as a whole. After all, we are a body of many parts, not just one big toe.

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Bono and Morrissey

By Jim Spiegel

Two of the stalwart acts in modern rock will release new records this February: U2 and Morrissey.  And, as usual in both cases, the pre-release hype machine is already in full-throttle months in advance.  The U2 record, to be titled No Line on the Horizon, was recorded in Morocco, France, and Dublin, Ireland.  And sources close to the band are effusive with praise about it.  Co-producer Daniel Lanois is quoted as saying “it’s one of the great, innovative records from U2.”  Well, we’ll see about that.  But one thing is for sure, the song titles of likely album tracks are intriguing.  They include: “Get Your Boots On,” “The Cedars of Lebanon,” “Moment of Surrender,” “Love is All We Have Left,” and “If I Could Live My Life Again.”

The new Morrissey album is called Years of Refusal, and was produced by Jerry Finn, who manned the board on the Moz’s 2004 comeback record You are the Quarry.  Tragically, Finn suffered a brain hemorrhage shortly after finishing the project and died August 21.  But it appears Finn’s final production effort will be a strong one, if comments from Morrissey’s band are any indication.  Like Bono, Morrissey has a knack for interesting song titles.  Probable album tracks include: “Action Man,” “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris,” “One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell,” “Something is Squeezing My Skull,” “Because of My Poor Education,” “You Were Good in Your Time,” and “Mama Lay Softly on the Riverbed.”

The coincidence of these two releases is a double pleasure.  And as I anticipate them with glee, certain similarities between the two Irish-blooded songsmiths have jumped out at me.  For one thing, both Bono and Morrissey are musical connoisseurs, and not just within the rock tradition but across genres, ranging from Broadway show tunes to Indian trance music.  It is fascinating to see how two men in their late-forties have remained hungry and innovative, both lyrically and musically.  Far from being “written out,” each continues to explore interesting themes and styles with each release.

Bono and Morrissey are both well-read fellows, faithfully observing that guiding maxim for all literary artists: good writers must be good readers.  No artist creates in a vacuum, and as Bono himself has said, “every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief.”  These two have mastered the skill of artistic thievery, drawing their inspiration from great poets, novelists, and singers without lapsing into cheap, transparent imitation.

Another trait they share is strong convictions.  They have keen interests in political issues, and both are social activists regarding certain causes, such as AIDS relief in Africa in Bono’s case (cf. “Crumbs from Your Table”) and animal welfare for the Moz (cf. “Meat is Murder”).  You might say that they are very judgmental people, as perhaps all moral visionaries are, and each has been guilty of mouthing off or being too harshly critical at times.

Finally, both Bono and Morrissey have a strong sense of mortality.  Human frailty and desperation in a dangerous and confusing world are recurring themes in the work of both artists.  There is a certain sorrow which pervades their songs, though the Christian faith of Bono and the other members of U2 preserves a sense of hope in their music.  But Morrissey, no less than Bono, is on a spiritual quest—though I’m quite sure he would resist this characterization—which comes through in his music as well.  Both of them have shared their journeys with us in aesthetically pleasing ways.  And for this I am thankful.

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Ten Best Rock Albums

By Jim Spiegel

Okay, here are my top ten albums of the rock era.  For selection criteria, see my previous post.  If you disagree with one of my picks, your opinion doesn’t count if you don’t own the record!  Do yourself a favor and pick up the ones you don’t yet own.  Not all at once, of course.  This music must be savored.

1. The Beatles, Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967) – A predictable first choice, but rightfully so. With this album, the Beatles introduced the “concept album,” established rock music as a bona fide art form, and founded or perfected at least three new genres: psychedelic rock, orchestral rock, and nostalgic chamber music rock. And all within the engineering limits of a four-track recorder. Impossible. The album would have been even stronger if the sessions’ two best songs, “Penny Lane” and “Strawberry Fields Forever,” had been included. (Instead, Capitol released them together as a stand-alone single). Classic tracks include “With a Little Help From My Friends,” Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” and “When I’m Sixty-Four.”

2. The Clash, London Calling (1979) – If the Beatles were, as McCartney described them, the ultimate “cabaret” band, the Clash were a close second, proving themselves just as capable to try on, and master, a wide range of styles within the rock tradition. The best album by “the only band that matters,” London Calling features an array of music styles and influences—punk, R&B, ska, and reggae. Yet somehow it is a unified piece of work, with no lulls in the 19-song sequence. Unlike the Beatles’ masterpiece, London Calling has only improved with age. The album’s most recognizable songs are “Train in Vain,” which became the band’s first U.S. top-40 hit, and the title track.

3. Bob Dylan, Blonde on Blonde (1966) – This was the final album in Dylan’s early “beat poet” period and the culmination of the most prolific and inspired era in the rock bard’s career. Despite its flaws (occasional sloppy playing and some imperfect mixes) the music always soars. The songwriting dazzles, and the energy of Dylan and his band perfectly matches the songs, which are mostly blues-based rockers. The album is loaded with all-time Dylan greats, such as “I Want You,” “Just Like a Woman,” “Absolutely Sweet Marie,” and “Leopard-Skin Pillbox Hat.”

4. The Beatles, The Beatles (a.k.a. the “White Album”) (1968) – In the summer of 1968, the Beatles sojourned to India to meditate with the Maharishi Yogi. After a few months they were disillusioned about the self-proclaimed holy man, but they returned home with a boatload of new songs and a will to return to an unadorned sound. The result was a 30-song double album which showcases the Beatles’ incomparable versatility. Styles range from blues rock (“Birthday” and “Yer Blues”) to acoustic ballads (“Blackbird” and “Julia”) to Western swing (“Rocky Raccoon”) to bluegrass (“Don’t Pass Me By”) to a 1930s-style show tune (“Honey Pie”). The album also features the controversial non-musical sound art piece, “Revolution 9.” What The Beatles lacks in unity it more than makes up for in quality of individual songs.

5. U2, The Joshua Tree (1987) – On the heels of their Unforgettable Fire album, singer Bono declared that the band had no clear tradition. This motivated them to explore American music, especially blues, country, gospel, and roots rock. Meanwhile, the band was wrestling with political issues related to Central American conflicts. These factors converged to ensure the songs U2 recorded for The Joshua Tree—only half of which appeared on the album—were focused and inspired. Producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois managed to create a sound that is full but also spacious, perfectly complimenting the mood and lyrical themes of the songs. Classic tracks include “With or Without You,” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and “Bullet the Blue Sky.”

6. Led Zeppelin, Led Zepellin IV (1971) – Although commonly referred to as Led Zepellin IV, this album really has no name. Instead, it was identified only with four cryptic symbols. The music on the record, however, is not obscure in the least but features such straightforward rock classics as “Black Dog,” “Rock and Roll,” and “Stairway to Heaven.” This album displays the talents of a great band at the height of its powers, all harnessed by the underrated producing genius of guitarist Jimmy Page.

7. Radiohead, OK Computer (1997) – At a time when we were all weary of Seattle grunge sound rip-offs and the loud-soft-loud arrangement they turned into a cliché, suddenly there appeared—not without plenty of pre-release hyperbolic praise—an album so beautiful and inspired it seemed to come from another world. (Perhaps fittingly, several of the songs reference aliens.) With their 1995 classic The Bends, Radiohead had mastered the rock genre. Now it was time to transcend it. And, boy, did they (with this album and every one they have made since). Classics include “Paranoid Android,” “Exit Music,” and “Let Down.”

8. Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited (1965) – This is Dylan the beat poet singer, Allen Ginsberg with a guitar and harmonica. From the classic opening track, “Like a Rolling Stone” to the mesmerizing closer, “Desolation Row,” the album is a non-stop torrent of stream-of-consciousness lyrics, sung over a blues-rock palette. But it’s not just comic nonsense (though it is quite often that), as a prevailing theme of alienation and confusion emerges which at once typifies the mood of the mid-60s and aptly communicates the essence of the human condition. How could he have been so far ahead of his time? Answer: While other songwriters were inspired by popular songs, Dylan was inspired by great poets.

9. Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon (1973) – No album has spent more time than this one on the Billboard album charts—a total of 29 years. This is ironic, considering the fact that it is anything but a pop album. The music was highly experimental for its time, and its innovations have aged well. Lyrically, Roger Waters explores the heaviest of themes—mutability, consumerism, ethnocentrism, violence, madness, and death. Classic tracks include “Time,” “Brain Damage,” and “Money.” (As a curious aside, there is also the matter of the album’s strange synchronicity with The Wizard of OZ: http://www.everwonder.com/david/wizardofoz/. Try it out, and make of it what you will.)

10. Queen, A Night at the Opera (1975) – This amazing blend of heavy metal, quasi-folk, nostalgic ditties, and orchestral-operatic rock still defies categorization. Reported to be the most expensive album ever recorded at the time of its release, one listening reveals why. Queen laid down literally hundreds of vocal tracks, and just one section of the album’s masterpiece, “Bohemian Rhapsody,” took three weeks to record. But more impressive than the meticulous production on this album are the songs themselves—each smartly composed and arranged by one of rock’s greatest bands, each member of which sang and wrote songs.

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Twenty Best Albums of the Rock Era

By Jim Spiegel

 

Here is the first part of my list of the best albums of the rock era: 1955 to 2000.  (The top ten will appear in my next post.)  My list comports with what might be called the rock music “canon.”  As much as I could manage, I have refrained from accentuating my own stylistic predilections, which happen to be progressive rock and British pop.  My selection criteria include: 1) lyrical and musical originality, 2) historical impact, and 3) consensus of music critics.  Regarding criterion #3, I have allowed my own judgments to be heavily influenced by published lists such as those by Rolling Stone magazine and VHI.

 

 

11. The Beatles, Abbey Road (1969) – The swansong of the most important band in history.  Even while in the midst of a bitter break-up, they managed to make an album that was not only cohesive, but groundbreaking.  The second side of the album flowed continuously from song to song, inspiring the same convention in such later albums as Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick.  Classic tracks include “Here Comes the Sun,” Something,” and “Come Together.”

 

12. David Bowie, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972) – A concept album which tells the tale of Ziggy Stardust, a space alien rock star who comes to Earth to inspire humanity, only to self-destruct through dissipation.  Sound familiar?  But it is the album’s individual songs, not its narrative, that make it great.  It is chock-full of classic tunes, but some of the more familiar ones are “Suffragette City,” “Moonage Daydream,” “Starman,” and the title track.

 

13. Elvis Costello, This Year’s Model (1978) – After his heralded debut, My Aim is True, Elvis, the “singing dictionary,” hand picked his band, The Attractions, and this, their first album together, brims with passion and angst, beating his contemporary new wavers at their own game.  The album’s relentless energy is matched by its lyrical cleverness.  One of the best albums of the new wave era.

 

14. Jimi Hendrix, Are You Experienced?  (1967) – How does he get those sounds out of his guitar?  Is it R&B or psychadelia?  How many rules can you break and how many different rock genres can be spawned by one album?  And yet, ironically, this album is a return to the rock’s blues roots.  Classic tracks include “Purple Haze” (U.S. release), “Hey Joe,” and “The Wind Cries Mary.”

 

15. The Kinks, Muswell Hillbillies (1971) – The last of a string of great records during the Kinks’ “golden age.” Ray Davies wry wit and ingenious social commentary is at its finest, with classic tunes such as “Alcohol” and “Complicated Life.”  With the recurrent anti-technology theme, it even manages to be a concept album in an unselfconscious way.  As wonderful as this record is, one staggers at the thought of how strong it would have been if produced by someone more able than Ray Davies (with all due respect to Mr. Davies, who is one of rock’s towering figures).

 

16. REM, Automatic for the People (1992) – After ten years of resisting pressure to make a commercial album, the Athens, Georgia founders of “indie rock” finally dished it out in good measure.  The album was indeed a commercial success, but it was also an artistic breakthrough for the band, as many of the songs, such as “Nightswimming,” featured innovative arrangements, while others had surprisingly weighty personal themes, such as “Everybody Hurts”—a tragically ineffectual plea to Kurt Cobain.

 

17. The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds (1966) – The Beatles self-confessed inspiration for Sergeant Pepper, this album was itself inspired by the Beatles’ Rubber Soul.  Pet Sounds features some of Brian Wilson’s most ingeniously crafted pop tunes, including the plaintive “Wouldn’t it Be Nice,” a gorgeous cover of “Sloop John B” and “God Only Knows,” which became the first top-40 hit whose title featured the name of the deity.

 

18. U2, Achtung Baby (1991) – The last great album by Ireland’s greatest band, Achtung Baby was a surprising departure from the American-influenced sound of their previous two LPs.  Though adorned with a lot of experimental guitar work, this rarely gets in the way of the songs themselves, most of which are brilliantly crafted in their own right, including “Mysterious Ways,” “One,” and “You’re So Cruel.”

 

19. Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street (1972) – Emerging from the shadow of the Beatles two years after the Liverpudlians split, the Stones were free to indulge their street blues roots while experimenting with other genres as the new kings of rock.  This sprawling double album is their least polished but most pure in terms of rock and roll energy.  It also features some of the best Jagger vocals, Richards’ guitar work, and Glimmer Twins songwriting in the bands’ repertoire.  Classics include “Tumbling Dice” and “Happy.”

 

20. Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run (1975) – After his first two strong, but overwritten, albums, the Boss secured manager-producer Jon Landau who refined Springsteen’s image as well as his musical vision.  Upon the album’s release, Springsteen instantly became the voice for ordinary working-class (especially blue-collar) Americans, a mantle he has proudly worn for over three decades since.  Classic tracks include “Thunder Road,” “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out” and the title track.

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Popular Music and Survival of the Fittest

By Jim Spiegel

Long before I ever became an academician I loved rock n’ roll-from the crunch and sizzle of Jimmy Page guitar riff to the soul-soothing wail of Aretha Franklin.  But most of all, I loved the songs themselves, from love ballads to R&B grooves to punk rock political anthems.  And I’ve spent decades building my music catalogue, both to enjoy the music and to get a better grasp on the evolution of this art form.

It wasn’t long ago that to call rock music an “art form” was a howler.  And it has only been very recently that study of the popular arts generally has become a legitimate field of scholarly inquiry.  Happily, today there are several academic journals devoted entirely to the subject, and even the most prestigious aesthetics journals routinely feature treatments of rock music.  Finally scholars have realized what should have been obvious all along.  The study of popular culture is important because it provides us with insights in a wide range of subjects: art, anthropology, psychology, sociology, cultural studies, and philosophy, to name a few.  And study of the history of popular culture is significant for the same reason that any historical inquiry is significant.  It provides us with a better understanding of human nature and society.

Perhaps the reason some have doubted the significance of rock music as an art form is that, frankly, much of it is bad.  And, indeed, radio stations play mostly tripe all day long.  They always have, even in rock’s “golden age.”  But something like this has been true of all art in every age.  Much of the music made in the 17th, 18th or 19th centuries was no doubt very bad, but that music has been deservedly lost to time while the best has survived-as it always has, standing the test of time precisely because it is the best.  What we call “classical” music is simply the best music of bygone eras.  And, yes, some music from our era will survive for centuries as well.  They are not royal courtiers anymore, but include film soundtrack composers (e.g. John Williams and Danny Elfman), singer-songwriters (e.g. Bob Dylan and Morrissey), and rock bands (e.g., the Beatles and Radiohead).

Students of popular music face a challenge that students of classical music do not.  History has yet to weed out the weak specimens among the songs of our time, so we must do the extra work to discern which songs will likely stand the test of time because of their merits.  As in the biological world, it comes down to survival of the fittest.  And contemporary music critics are sometimes no more able to predict which songs will last than a biologist is able to predict the future evolutionary path of organisms.  As Bob Dylan has said, “You have to stand on your tiptoes to see the future.”

But the sheer difficulty of the task should not discourage us.  There are, after all, some basic aesthetic standards when it comes to assessing rock music, just as there are for any art genre.  And we have already seen some “natural selection” of rock songs already, if we go back to the 1950s, 60s, and even the 70s.  There are songs that we already call “classics,” from Chuck Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven” to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.”

In future posts, I will discuss a variety of popular musical artists and songs, some of which have risen to the level of “classic” and some which I suspect will do so in time.  I will also offer some of my own “best of” lists.  The first of these will be the twenty best albums of the rock era, which I will post in just a few days.  So stay tuned, rock fans.