The ongoing Hear Factor series continues with Five Stars, a mix of rock ‘n roll that, in terms of hitting anyone’s discomfort zone, will likely challenge those of you who fear the relatively new and/or rock ‘n roll. I’m pretty sure you won’t fall in the latter camp, so get with it, stick in the muds: download the following file, unzip, and live with this mix for a few days. Then report back your experiences, making sure to mark your growth as a human being. Thanks.
All four Beatles had hit singles as solo artists, more than one, in fact. Even Ringo. I don’t know that any band, even a band as compact as a trio, has ever spawned four successful solo artists. But I could be wrong. Regardless, what band might rival The Beatles or at least claim second place for having spawned the greatest number of successful solo artists? And please, wiseguys, refrain from suggesting Traveling Wilburys!
If you could go back and perform artistic engineering on one latent trait, or characteristic, of a beloved musician—an initially benign or secondary trait in that musician’s work that would gain prominence and eventually detract from his or her work—what would it be?
My answer would be Joe Strummer‘s propensity for name-checking world musicians, political figures, and exotic locations. This trait was a useful, secondary device in his writing from the beginning. The practice peaked to useful effect on Sandinista, but by Combat Rock it was out of control. I love the guy and those last two solo albums he released before dying weren’t bad, but his music was bogged down by his impulse to play up his role as the savvy traveler of rock. Too bad he didn’t live long enough to work this out through his own satellite radio show.
Remember Colorforms? Following a comprehensive 5-minute search of the Internet I have determined that the Colorforms company, although producing sets specifically for iconic artists like The Beatles, KISS, and Elvis Presley, did not produce a comprehensive set of Colorforms that would have allowed us, as children, to create our own vision of the Ultimate Rock Star. Well, maybe they did, but if they did I’m sure it wasn’t as good as the Colorforms set we’re about to create.
As a service to help soothe yet one more dashed rock ‘n roll dream, Rock Town Hall will be partnering with Colorforms to create the Rock Town Hall Kit, a Colorforms toy. This set will include, from head to toe, the most iconic elements of rock wardrobe and accoutrements for future generations to mix and match onto blank figures in the effort of creating the Ultimate Rock Star.
Now the hard part… Read on!
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In 1975, Bon Scott and the lads took their metal boogie to the streets of Melbourne. It’s A Long Way To the Top (if you wanna rock and roll) and the clip are key moments in Australian rock lore. So much so that a couple of years ago a laneway, Corporation Lane, was renamed AC/DC Lane.
Then this week in Brisbane, 2000 miles to the north of Melbourne, a bridge was named in honour of The Go-Betweens, the band as much as any, catches the moods of the Queensland capital. The Hale Street Bridge is now The Go-Betweens Bridge. In their pomp, most of the band’s success was outside of Brisbane, and they wasted little time hitting the road for cities more receptive to their Velvets/Monkees/Richman/Television skinny pop thing.
The question is, are there other places named in honour of a band or song?
Although we’re familiar with claims to the effect that “There’s no crying in baseball!” we’ve seen evidence to the contrary. The same goes for all the other macho athletes out there. They’re way more sensitive than we’ve been led to believe.
I got to wondering about his this might apply to rock ‘n roll. In an artform the prides itself on free and deep expression, can you cite times in which rock ‘n rollers have cried in public, especially onstage, after a riveting performance? Non-rockers who can manufacture a solitary teardrop during the final arpeggio of a tender ballad don’t count. Sorry, Christina Aguilera fans. I’m talking real rock ‘n rollers, or even singer-songwriters who’ve long been established as residents of Rock bins across the world. For instance, has James Taylor ever cried at the conclusion of “Fire and Rain?”
If ever there was a time for rock ‘n roll tears I’d think it would be a landmark farewell show, like The Last Waltz. However, I’ve seen that film at least 100 times, and I don’t recall anyone shedding even a solitary tear. There were some puffy eyes, but wasn’t that the coke crying? Likewise, I don’t recall anyone crying in the otherwise super-sensitive Metallica group therapy movie—my own tears as a viewer excluded. Now that Metallica documentary allowed for some rock ‘n roll teardrops. (Mad props to Townsman shawnkilroy for reminding me of this touching scene.)
I don’t recall Freddie Mercury ever crying onstage. Are you telling me not even Freddie Mercury could muster an onstage tear?
Even off stage, in those VH1 Behind the Music episodes, do we ever see a member of Aerosmith crying over the wasted years before the band’s sobriety and return to the top of the charts?
Surely I’m forgetting an obvious instance of a rock ‘n roller crying on (or even off) stage.
The wisdom of The Hall continues to amaze me. For as many knowledgeable individuals who dazzle with their rock knowledge, it is the collective wisdom of our participants that I find most dazzling.
It is in this spirit that I want to allow for further amazement—not only for the people but by the people. I was going to try to turn this into my own original post, in an attempt to display my deluded sense of having a unique brand of insight and humor, but then I thought better of it. Instead, I’d like to pose this question to the collective wisdom of The Orockle: What if the British Invasion had been thwarted?
What if Chubby Checker and James Darren had led a battalion of ships to turn away The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Hollies, and Freddie and the Dreamers? What would constitute rock ‘n roll from 1964 forward if the British Invasion had failed? Would rock ‘n roll truly have died, as the conventional wisdom of countless rock documentaries assume, or would the void have allowed American country and R&B artists direct access to the riches of what we’ve come to know as Rock Stardom?
As always, when any of us consult The Orockle, the opportunity exists for folks to ask similar questions and receive similar advice. The topic shouldn’t necessarily focus just on my topic.
I look forward to your responses.
