Shot Through the Heart

Back around Valentine’s day, Rolling Stone had a fun list called 20 Love Songs We Never Want to Hear Again.

Aptly described as cheddar bombs, it’s hard to dispute that most of these songs induce more groans than sweet whispers.

But it raises an interesting question:  how does a song go from “love it” to “hate it”? 

By getting overplayed?  As tastes change?  As good memories change to bad ones?

The passage of time and changes in personal relationships will definitely alter your view of a song, especially a love song.  But is there a single moment when you decide you no longer like a song, or is a gradual thing, with the song creeping imperceptibly towards Yuckville?

Actually, in the case of these songs, my dislike was more or less instantaneous; we all like the idea of a love song, but man is it hard to pull one off without coming across as cheap and manipulative.

But the question still stands:  how does a song lose its appeal?  What makes us cover our ears and run away when we used to smile and hum along?

I’ve always believed that great songs become timeless because they take on a life of their own, so maybe this list just represent songs that aren’t so great.  Maybe the songs that wear out just lacked substance to begin with.

Highway 61 Revisited Revisited

Gibson’s When Rockers Cover Dylan points out that the man has provided a gold mine of material for other artists.

It lists some great examples, some interesting analysis, and a variation on the “be true to the original, but make it your own” mantra: “completely restructure it until it sounds like you.”  Dunno about the “completely restructure it” part, but “sounds like you” is right.

The examples include:

Hendrix – Watchtower

Johnny Winter – Highway 61 Revisited

George Harrison – If Not For You

The Byrds – Mr. Tambourine Man

GNR – Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

I guess the winner is All Along the Watchtower, because covers by Hendrix, Dave Matthews and U2 all get a mention (I would add, BTW, a great live version by Neil Young from Dylan’s 30^th Anniversary Tribute concert).

In terms of the “be true to the original, but make it your own” cliché

-       Hendrix and Winter take the prize for outright theft

-       The Byrds and George provide the best examples by doing a straight cover that nevertheless sounds like themselves

-       I wish no one – including Clapton – had covered Knockin’ on Heavens’ Door.  Dylan’s version is unbeatable.

But that’s maybe the only such song on the list.  I’ve always felt that a good song had a life of it’s own, and Dylan has provided a bunch of examples.  He might have created them – or opened a door through which they entered our lives – but once they arrived, they kind of became everybody’s songs.

Mayday! Mayday! We’re Listing!

Yes, I can take umbrage when I see a list that elevates someone I don’t respect/like or disrespects my idols.  Guilty as charged.

Seems I’m not alone, though.  The “puffed-up pontificators” at Entertainment Weekly appear to have deeply offended Joel Rubinoff with their list of Top 100 Albums, at least judging by his You Call This a List? rant in the Toronto Star.

Rubinoff’s Exhibit A is that the “whims of personality and ego” omitted Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.  Not just from the Top 10, but altogether.  He has many other issues, but that’s the big one.

By the way, here’s the Top 10:

 1. Beatles, Revolver

 2. Once-Again-Known-As-Prince, Purple Rain

 3. Stones, Exile

 4. MJ, Thriller

 5. The Clash, London Calling

 6. Bob Dylan, Blood on the Tracks

 7. Aretha, Lady Soul

 8. Kanye West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

 9. Beach Boys, Pet Sounds

10. Nirvana, Nevermind

I mean, chill out Joel.  It’s not that different from many other lists I’ve seen - and commented on.  Yes, I agree that leaving out Pepper’s is crazy.  But frankly, I don’t care whether Blood on the Tracks outranks Highway 61 Revisited.  Like, they’re both good, right?

Perhaps the folks at EW were “determined to stoke debate” by going “out of their way … to tick of readers.”  Fair enough.

As Mr. Rubinoff admits, it’s a classic marketing ploy, and it works, cause it’s got people talkin’.

Take it easy, Joel.  At least the Beatles hold down top spot on the list.  For now, anyway.  Tomorrow never knows.

The Truth Will Come

I was in the car the other day and Stairway to Heaven came on the radio.  I overcame the (mild) reflex to groan, then settled in to listen.  Before long waves of memories and feelings began to wash over me.  I was grateful I had resisted the impulse to change the station.

Then I got to thinking: that’s what we dig about a great song.  The memories, the feelings, the associations – and not just in songs we’ve heard a zillion times.

A really good song will reach out and grab parts of the world around you.  It will latch on to little bits of you and make itself real.  It does so right away, and then only grows from there.  It attaches itself to you, and sticks with you forever.  It is everything you experience.

In essence, the song is about you.  So next time you hear a classic and think you might be bored, watch it; you’re kinda thinking about life.

The Long Goodbye

Gibson’s 10 Epic Guitar Outros makes the point that great guitar work at the end of a song can be an exclamation point.  I agree!!!!!!!!!

Here’s the list:

Ozzy (Randy Rhoads) – Mr. Crowley

ZZ Top – La Grange

Zeppelin – Black Dog

Bowie (Mick Ronson) – Moonage Daydream

Rolling Stones – Can’t You Hear Me Knocking

Guns “n Roses – November Rain

Derek and the Dominoes – Layla

Pink Floyd – Comfortably Numb

Eagles – Hotel California

Skynyrd – Free Bird

Yep.  Epic.  I some cases, these outros are the best part of the song, the signature.  Comfortably Numb, for example.  That, and Hotel California, where the outro almost becomes a second song that provides an emotional reaction to the first part.  It’s like the band is saying, “Ya, think about this for a minute.”

And we do.

A Big Deal

This is not, repeat not a political statement:  FDR’s New Deal was the best thing that ever happened to music.

Stay with me.  Without the New Deal’s “make work” projects, Alan Lomax would not have been sent out to collect folk music.  If Alan Lomax hadn’t done that, we might never have heard of Son House, Robert Johnson, Lead Belly, Doc Boggs, Big Bill Broonzy and Skip James.  Woody Guthrie might be an interesting footnote.

If the folk music, white and black, of the south had not been captured and exposed to a broader audience, the Chicago Blues as we know it might never have come into being, “race music” and rhythm and blues might never have been noticed by white kids.  There might never have been a folk revival in the 50’s.

No delta blues?  Nothing in Chicago?  No folk revival?  No:

Beatles

Rolling Stones

Bob Dylan

Led Zeppelin

Cream

Animals

Shall I go on?

Elvis, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins…  life, and culture, as we know it would simply not exist.

I can’t imagine a better use of government money.  Big Bird might just agree.

I’ll Cry Instead

A rock band can be like a romantic relationship.  So says Rolling Stone Magazine in The 10 Messiest Band Breakups.  Here’s the list:

Guns N’ Roses

The Everly Brothers

Oasis

The Police

The Eagles

The Clash

Smashing Pumpkins

Rage Against the Machine

The Pixies

Queensryche

So, we’ve got all the ingredients.  Out of control egos, drugs, betrayal, rivalry, verbal and physical abuse, smashed guitars, lawyers.

What we don’t have, however, is the biggest, messiest breakup of all: The Beatles.  It was all captured in a butt-ugly, downer of a film!  The lawsuits went on for years!  They wrote nasty songs about one another!  People are still mad at Yoko!

Hell froze over for The Eagles, and the re-union tour has now lasted longer than the original band.  The Everlys and The Police also patched up and cashed in.  Shouldn’t one of these bands be pushed aside?

I mean, this is not a list about honour and glory, but The Beatles gave us more than enough drama - and stupidity - to “earn” a place on this particular list.  It’s all too much.

Decades

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I got to thinking about how your perceptions and loyalties change over time, and decided to fill in this matrix of who my favourite artists were decade by decade.  It came out like this:

 

Some time bending was required to jam things into the decade pigeonhole, and some revisionism is at work here.  Looking back as each decade turned over, I definitely would not have listed the Stones as my second favourite band of the preceding ten years.  The third place band would have been #2, and the likes of Deep Purple, Pink Floyd and The Cars – or maybe The Police – and Bonnie Raitt would have shown up.  Oh, and John Lee Hooker, just a few decades late.

But this is a pretty accurate reflection of how I would rank the music as I listen to it now.

A coupla “Ya I knows”:

1. The Stones have not really done anything since Voodoo Lounge, or arguably Tattoo You.  But somehow they remain cool and the concert DVD’s are fun.

2. Not a lot of newness in the past 20 years.  Yep.  I’m getting’ old.  What can I say?

The Thrill of It All

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Gibson has an overdue list of 10 Guitar Greats Who've Been Unduly Neglected, the list being:

Terry Kath

Ollie Halsall

Luther Grovenor

June Millington

Phil Manzanera

Lenny Breau

Jimmy Nolen

Randy California

Robert Quine

Bob Stinson

Amen, especially for Kath, California and Manzanera.  I might also add Peter Green, Kim Simmonds and Rory Gallagher.

The article hints that maybe you need a larger-than-life personality to get all the attention.  Maybe.  Maybe it was the tunes, the bands, the PR, the hair …

It certainly wasn’t the licks

Believe I’m Sinking Down

Have I ever mentioned I’m not a fan of award shows?  I rarely watch them because they always disappoint.

But I made an exception this year and watched the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions. I mean, Rush, Heart, Albert King.  Gotta be good right?

Guest appearances by John Fogerty, Tom Petty, Jackson Brown, David Grohl, Gary Clark, John Mayer.  People I admire.  Music I love.  Gonna be good for sure.

Nope.

Lame speeches.  So-so performances.  Well-meant and no doubt all very sincere, but in the end, just a bunch of silliness.

You know, when Alex Lifeson gets the most applause for literally saying “blah blah blah” for 3 minutes (though it seemed like 7), the evening has been kinda dull.

Cool jam on Crossroads as the credits rolled, though.