Then some bad stuff began to happen. Like DISCO. Then 80's pop crap and synth junk. In the early 80's, ROCKET was gone, but I was still a music editor (at OUI, which sold more for the centerfolds than my record reviews and interviews). I interviewed some pop oddballs (like Mari Wilson), and there were still punky new wave chicks around (Lita Ford). I also spoke with progrockers including both of the departed Genesis guitarists now mounting solo careers, Steve Hackett and Anthony Phillips. BUT...like the Chambers Brothers shouting "TIME," I knew that I was getting too old for this...and the prospect of interviewing pipsqueaks, fashion fops and somebody too sexy for his shirt...was NOT what I wanted to do.
Over the years, the purveyors of classic rock have disappointed their fans with turgid material nowhere near their best. That ranges from Jethro Tull and Procol Harum to Elton John and Paul McCartney. Randy Newman, who held up pretty well for a long, long time, satirized the problem with a song called "I'm Dead But I Don't Know It." It was about a rocker whose latest album was, at best, just a numb copy of the previous one, "BUT NOT AS GOOD."
Meanwhile, the Top Ten List was taken over by rappers, inane pop tripe, and almost nothing that people could sing along to. The song had to be REALLY stupid and repetitive for that. Some song about an umbrella-ella-ella. I was glad that I wasn't the one having to sit around and ask Cardi B some questions, or to pretend that some guy cursing was worth a Nobel Prize.
The rock magazines I'd written for were almost all gone. One that I didn't write for, ROLLING STONE, has become an embarrassment, trying desperately to hold onto readership, first by getting political, and then by running ridiculous photo stories on posturing rappers. The only time "classic rock" was mentioned was when the ranks got thinned out. Oh, Tom Petty...put him on the cover...he's dead.
A big problem with "classic rock" is that, like "classical music," it's not infinite. Has anyone written any good "classical music" since Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev? It's been experimental crap that nobody likes. Nobody is improving on a Beethoven symphony or a Chopin etude. And that includes Billy Joel, who dropped out of "classic rock" and for a moment, thought he had something else to fall back on. No, no, no, the "chords of fame" have all been used. At one time, lead guitarists could come up with new riffs all day and all of the night. From a "Simple Sister" to "Layla," there were new melodies to hear, and lyrics that varied from rockin' sex and drug songs to protest and new wave and trippy psychedelia. The game's been played.
The old-timers still around, well, some decided to go sing the "Great American Songbook." Others, not admitting that they'll never get to the Top 10 again, put out dull, familiar albums that critics sometimes gave a charitable 3 stars to. You don't want to knock Elton or Macca TOO much. They're living legends.
We are not 20 anymore. This isn't 1967. Our lives do not revolve around "when's the new album coming out." The people who ARE 20, are listening to "a load of garbage," which is how OUR parents viewed OUR "classic rock." Nobody's interested in an entire magazine of "classic rock." Rolling Stone proved that decades ago. For a brief moment, some thought, "The Internet is our savior...there will be cool WEBSITES and BLOGS!" Yeah? To do what, rate the best and worst of Jethro Tull albums? Point out, every Christmas, the latest dire box set trying to cash in on old Pink Floyd albums?
ROCK CELLAR is one of those websites that seemed to be willing to run interviews with no-longer hot hotties (Rita Coolidge) and to follow Tom Petty to his grave, and to bite their lips and quiver hopefully when some outfit like Angel Air or Cherry Red brought back some long out of print album, or gave a new chance to Andy Bown, or put together a compilation on Jenny Darren. Oh, wow. But a check of what Rock Cellar sends its subscribers shows that they are desperate to get click through money by devoting MORE SPACE TO NON-MUSIC NEWS than anything else:
What can we do? NOTHING. To paraphrase a Dylan song lyric, Nick Lowe now "plays soft, but there's nothing, really nothing to turn off." So, not enough people are buying Nick Lowe or Don McLean to put them on a major label, and at best, they come up with things that are listenable. Roy Orbison, sing please: "It's OVER, it's OVER, it's OVER. It's....OHHHHHHHHH VERRRRR."
It's the truth but it's not bad. Remember what happened to your parents and grandparents. They had to be content with the OLD Frank Sinatra and Patti Page albums because there weren't anymore. They'd sit and have some nostalgia and a drink while hearing "In the Mood" from Glenn Miller. "Boy, they don't make 'em like THAT anymore." No, they don't. The big band style was used up. It became harder and harder for Barbra, or Connick, or Lemper to fill up a CD with NEW material in the OLD style. But there was still plenty of the old stuff to revisit.
And so it is for us. If Dylan does nothing but more Sinatra crooning, there's still a vast catalogue of his material that can (and should) be listened to again and again. Classic Procol Harum is still classic. While you might not want to take the Marrakesh Express, and you might only find a "Greatest Hits" collection good enough on many artists, there's still a lot to enjoy. Hell, once in a while there's a re-issue in a better bit-rate and you can hear stuff that had been buried in the original mono mix. WOWIE ZOWIE. You might, now that you're on the 200th listening, actually pay attention to the lyrics from Taupin and Simon and make up your own theory on what the hell "Grey Seal" is all about. Or "Take me to the Pilot." Or "Me and Julio in the Schoolyard." After all, the cross is in the ballpark. And that's just ME giving you the word. "You can call me Al."
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