Honestly, as much of an Attractions fan as I am, I’m a bit disappointed that Elvis Costello’s backing band ran away with their Rebel Conference semifinals match against The Wailers in our ongoing tournament to determine—once and for all—rock’s greatest backing band. The outcome of this match opens the Hall up to a number of easy rockist charges that have been made against us over the years. Thank god The Wailers weren’t a female-fronted outfit to boot!
Worries about how we’re perceived in the rock world aside, I’m mostly disappointed, disappointed in those of you who didn’t do your part to at least make the final score close. The Wailers deserved better. I could have done more. I could have logged onto some friends’ computers and voted for them. In lieu of a prime Burnin’-era live performance of any of my favorite song from that, my favorite Bob Marley and The Wailers album, I leave you this parting tribute…after the jump!
I am the original skeptic when it comes to the poetic value of rock and roll lyrics. Strip these words of their musical accompaniment, and I submit that 99.999% of them will suck. With music, I’d say a good 50% of them are still pretty embarrassing.
Every now and then, though, rock lyrics deliver. They give us goose bumps, they make us punch our fist in the air, or they make us stop and stare out the window for a moment.
Usually, these words take flight because they achieve perfect symbiosis with the music they accompany — but sometimes, they just escape the pull of gravity because they’re just, you know, really good.
For the last few days, I’ve woken up with the Jam song “Monday” bouncing around in my head — and I always pause when my mental Rock-Ola gets to the line “I will never be embarrassed about love again.”
I don’t know what Paul Weller meant to say — and I don’t even really know what that line means to me. But I love it. I’d like to focus a quick discussion on rock lyrics — but not entire songs or verses, or even couplets. I want to know if there are any rock “one-liners” that deliver the goods for you, like that one line in “Monday” does for me.
In this week’s edition of Saturday Night Shut-In your host, Mr. Moderator, is joined by an unexpected guest, his big brother, Gary. Four years your Moderator’s senior, Gary spins records his kid brother rejected when they were boys. With the passing of time nothing short of healing is expected.
[audio:https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/RTH-Saturday-Night-Shut-In-68.mp3|titles=RTH Saturday Night Shut-In, episode 68]
Did you catch George Harrison‘s son, Dhani, on Conan the other night? I did. Dhani was promoting a new app he helped develop that presents his father’s “stunning stash of vintage axes.” The app, like most apps, didn’t turn me on—not to mention the fact that I’m typically not into gear porn—but Harrison the Younger was delightful: loaded with poise, charm, humor, and all the qualities we could hope for in George’s kid.
It took awhile for Dhani to catch on, didn’t it? While John’s boys, Julian and Sean, long ago burst on the scene and then settled into the occasional feature trumpeting a new, understated release…while Stella McCartney has spent years as a celebrated fashion designer (not that I would understand that scene, but I do see photos of her arm-in-arm with celebrities and fellow fashion designers)…while Zak Starkey follows in the footsteps of Keith Moon to prove to the world that he’s a bigger son of a drummer than Jason Bonham…Dhani seemed to be kept under wraps until he appeared on stage as part of a star-studded tribute to his father, playing acoustic guitar on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”
Let’s face it: Dhani has claimed the title of Coolest Offspring of a Beatle. It’s looking like he’ll have to mess up royally to lose that title, unless Paul’s 8-year-old kid from his failed marriage to Hamish Stuart Heather Mills develops into a childhood sensation or one of his other kids with Linda springs forward and does something special.
So who is the second-coolest offspring among members of The Beatles?
I fondly imagine that the homes of most Town Folk are filled with music for much of the time, and have been since childhood.
As I have mentioned previously, Mrs Happiness mistrusts as a matter of course any of the music I enjoy, having awoken once too often to the dulcet strains of Trout Mask Replica, Oar, a bootleg tape of Smile, or something by the Incredible String Band while dozing with our eldest still on board as I tested the theory that babies will respond positively once born to music they have heard in the womb.
Consequently, although music plays almost constantly in my head, almost all of my actual listening is through headphones, as is the (electric) piano practice of our first-born. I will occasionally pluck up the courage to strum an electric guitar unamplified as far away from where she sits reading as possible, but mostly we enjoy a house full of silence, punctuated only by the bickering of children and the happy screams of an over-stimulated 5 year old trying to use up the last of his energy before bedtime.
I am quite used to it, having grown up in an environment where music might as well not existed. Mrs H’s dislike of The Rock and All Of Its Doings is nothing compared to the pathological disdain exhibited by my Father towards any music other than the big bands of Glenn Miller or Joe Loss, whose records he still wouldn’t have in the house. It came as a real shock when I discovered a few years ago that he and my Mother met at a weekly dance: I had to go and listen to Trout Mask Replica, Oar, Smile, or something by the Incredible String Band to get over it.
When I was about 4 or 5, he brought home a Radiogram, comprising a high-end-of-the-market record player and a fantastic looking valve radio that lit up when it was switched on but which despite many Dad and Son hours trailing a long aerial made of pink plastic out of the back and through the house in a variety of directions we never actually succeeded in getting it to work. It was a great big piece of furniture as tall as me at the time and wide enough for myself and both of my younger sisters to lay behind end-to-end without any part of us sticking out, and speakers more than adequate to provide cover during games of hide and seek. I was not supposed to touch it, but eventually he gave up trying to stop me as I acquired records of my own and demonstrated vinyl-handling techniques to his satisfaction.
The coming of the Radiogram heralded the arrival of a box-set, or at least a large number of albums encased in an Apple Green vinyl sleeve with gold lettering. Dad would wake up on a Sunday morning, make a cup of tea, repair to the front room and the house would be full of the sound of these records, played at quite startling volume.
I can’t remember exactly how many records there were in the set, although the number 12 seems to have stuck in my memory.
Side one began with a rush of steam, the closing of doors and a whistle, then a slow clanking growing faster, as the Flying Scotsman – brought into service on the 24th February 1923 – set off on its record-breaking journey from London to Edinburgh, a journey of eight hours on the fastest steam train of them all.
As we progress through the Semifinals round of our tournament to determine—once and for all—rock’s greatest backing band ever, the Rebel Conference promises possibly the most hotly contested match in Rock Town Hall tournament play, as The Wailers face off against The Attractions. The winner of this match will tell a lot about the make-up of our Townspeople. The winner of this match will likely blow away tournament overachievers Crazy Horse and move onto the Finals!
Through the long, painstaking course of this tournament adequate arguments have been made on behalf of all the semifinalists. That doesn’t mean you’re not encouraged to continue arguing for your selection in this round, but you are welcome to cast your vote now. Voting in this match will run through 11:59 pm on Tuesday, February February 28, 2012.
Semifinals, Rebel Conference: The Wailers vs The Attractions.
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