What I Mean When I Say I’m Not Really a Beatles Fan

Yet another Beatle’s fan has exploded in indignation because someone, somewhere, has dared to doubt the absolute preeminence of the mop tops.  A certain tender nerve can be found near the surface of dedicated Beatles fans, making them overly sensitive and even a bit dramatic when the memory of their band catches anything less than breathless adulation. 

Because they’re so touchy, let me be crystal clear in addressing my Beatles-loving friends.  I do not particularly like the Beatles.  I believe that they are over-rated when they are called “the best”, “the most important”, or “the most influential” band in rock history.

As you drop to your fainting couches out there, and before you respond in the full froth of righteous indignation, please reread the last two sentences of the prior paragraph.  I am not saying that they suck, that they are awful, or even that any particular band is demonstrably better than they are.  I’m not even really claiming that they are always over-rated, since the “over-rated” label depends on what rating we’re talking about. 

A lot of this is a matter of taste.  The fact that you love the Beatles is fine with me, and it’s okay if you don’t particularly like my favorite bands.  I won’t insist that you kowtow to the supremacy of the Rolling Stones, Kanye, or even the Supremes.  Fans of other bands generally don’t share your insistence on fealty. 

Maybe my lack of enthusiasm is rooted in my particular experience - I grew up surrounded by the Beatles.  When I was a kid, anyone with a guitar strummed the life out of their catalog, and songs like “Hey Jude” and “Yesterday” bored the hell out of me by the thousandth listen over speakers in doctors’ waiting rooms, fabric stores, and, yes, elevators.  Perhaps you have more positive associations with your introduction to the Beatles, but, truly, honestly, literally, many of those songs are elevator music to me.  That doesn’t mean that I’m somehow correct when my stomach lurches a bit when I hear the first clunky strains of “Yellow Submarine”, but the thrill you apparently manage to feel is not contagious.  At all. 

I prefer other music.  I can happily tap my foot along to several Beatles songs, but I prefer other music.  I don’t say that to hurt your feelings, nor do I think that I have thus proven that your love of the Beatles is therefore a sham

“But, but, but,” I can hear you start to stammer.  And then you follow it with some superlative, delivered with all the authority of John Houseman playing Professor Kingsfield.  Let’s take some of the more popular superlatives and address them singly.  If you have others that you would like to discuss, please email them to me.

“They are the most influential rock band ever.”  How, exactly, would one define “influential” in this context?  It seems to me that Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly were influential, too.  I’m not going to name names, but it wasn’t me who claimed “If you tried to give rock and roll another name, you might call it 'Chuck Berry'.”  Influence is a pretty slippery concept to make into a superlative.  I might step back to Muddy Waters if I were forced at gunpoint to assign “most influential” to anyone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the trigger got pulled, because Bob Dylan was pretty influential, too, and hundreds of others.   If you want to grant that title to the Beatles, I suppose you’re free to do so, but don’t expect anyone to be convinced, okay?

“They are the most important rock band ever.”  Umm, not to me.  How do you even mean that?  If you mean that they are the most influential, see above.  If you mean that they took music in directions it never would have ventured, I think you’re just wrong about that.  Some poor schmuck was going to bring a sitar back from India, unfortunately enough.  If you mean that, back in their prime, they could fill stadiums, you’re correct, but that’s pretty weak tea, I think. 

I guess that does lead me to an area where I can agree with a superlative about the Beatles.  It is true that they sold more records than anyone else.  That’s truly impressive, but let’s not go too far with extrapolating that atatistic into broader claims of supremacy.   Celine Dion has sold a lot more records than Neil Young, and Abba’s top album has sold more than the Beatles’ top album – in the UK!  I’m with you in rolling my eyes at that fact, but there you go. 

By all means, the Beatles were a popular band, and I’ll even agree that they were a very good band in terms of merit.  I’d certainly put them somewhere in my top 25 band of all time, but I won’t be bullied by those who get strident and hysterical in their insistence that they are the preeminent band of all time. 

1989, by Taylor Swift (Album of the Week)

This week, Robin and I listened to Taylor Swift’s “1989”, an album that represents a whole pop universe that is parallel to our own.  1989 was 25 years ago, a quarter century to me, but the entire lifetime to Taylor Swift.  That’s right – Taylor Swift is younger than our children, and by 1989 we were already living at our current address. 

I started off by rolling my eyes at this pretty pop confection produced by a slick marketing team featuring a starlet who has been pushing herself forward for a spot on the stage since before she was 14.  How is someone who won’t celebrate her 25^th birthday for a few more weeks (12/13) supposed to win over a 54 year-old man who doesn’t even read the tabloids she lives in?

After a week of listening to this slickly produced, expertly marketed pop, I’m here to tell you, the kids are better than just alright, they’re pretty amazing.  Taylor Swift has a fantastic voice with great range, and the songs are clever, catchy, and enjoyable. 

I expected this album to be shallow, gossipy and absolutely without grit.  I just didn’t expect it to be so darned enjoyable.

In looking at some of the other reviews of this album, I see how utterly out-of-it I am.  Apparently, a more knowledgeable critic would have picked up on the Lana Del Ray influences in “Wildest Dreams”, but, to do so, I would need to know who s/he is.  Similarly, the references to Harry Styles (a new name to me, but I’m amused) in “Out of the Woods” flew right over my head.  Did you know that “Bad Blood” exists between Taylor Swift and Katie Perry, and, now apparently, Katie Perry’s boyfriend “Diplo”?

Listening to 1989 without a thorough knowledge of tabloid news is analogous to reading T. S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland” without a working knowledge of classical literature.

Am I working toward a sneer here?  Am I comparing one T. S. to another in an attempt to belittle the latter?  Perhaps, just a tiny bit, because that is what grumpy middle-aged English majors do, but not entirely.  The point is a legitimate one – both works of art occur in a specific context, and your appreciation of the work can expand if the references buried in the work resonate. 

You don’t need to know whom Harry Styles is to enjoy “Out of the Woods”.  You don’t need to make sense of every line of the lyrics to bob your head to the catchy sound or the fun vocal embellishments.  This is fun music, and it’s easy to enjoy, whether you catch the references or not.

I'm not quite sure how to take Robin's review of the album. She enjoys the music, but she's not sure she could pick Taylor Swift out of the Top 40 line-up. 

Here are some tips for people of my generation trying to listen to Taylor Swift’s 1989.  Don’t look for grit – this album is high-gloss.  Don’t try to understand all the lyrics – some of them require cultural knowledge you most likely don’t have.  Finally, don’t fight the electronic drums, or the synthesized sounds, or the highly processed vocals – relax and let technology take you for the ride.  1989 is a truly excellent album by a talented musician working in the pop mode.  Enjoy it.

Next up: RTJ2, by Run the Jewels

Everything Will be Alright in the End, by Weezer (Album of the Week)

           Despite all the smart-aleck lyrics, the nerdy image, the high-flying concepts, and even the not-quite-punk posing, Weezer is truly about the music.  Thumping bass, anthematic guitars, drums – this is just solid rock with bass-driven rhythm that hooks the ear.  “Only in Dreams” is perhaps the song that best captures what I loved about the old Weezer, and this album brings something similar.  After listening to the new jolt of old Weezer intently for a week, that’s what I keep coming back to – the music is just so damned appealing, I could live off that bass and rhythm guitar. 

            Like me, Robin pens her satisfaction with the album’s new/old direction over at Deliberate Obfuscation.  We try not to talk much about our impressions of the albums during the week, so it was fun to read how much we both appreciated coming back to a group we had ignored during some apparently rough patches.

            This album serves as a welcome back to a band that kind of disappeared for a while.  They burst onto the scene back in 1994 with the catchy and clever “Sweater Song” and came out with a few really good albums, but, at least for me, they faded from consciousness.  In researching this review, I see that they came out with a few albums that appear to be aimed at a more commercial sound, but they didn’t work. 

            I’m not a professional music reviewer.  Nobody pays me to listen to albums that don’t work.  I’m also not such a huge fan of anyone that I will reflexively go out and buy their next album if I don’t hear something good about it from a trusted voice.  So bad albums from good bands pretty much don’t exist for me. 

            Despite my inherent forgiveness borne of ignorance, Weezer starts off this album with hand-wringing nightmares about guitars being dead, and the second song, “Back to the Shack” is a full-out apology for straying from their audience and promises to be “More hardcore/Rockin’ out like it’s ‘94”. 

            All this would be as annoying as hell if it weren’t for the great, power-pop music.  The guitars are ringing, the bass is thumping out the direction, and shut up about the excuses and don’t bore me with the explanations – just catch me up in the beat and all is forgiven.  Even better than forgiven, it’s forgotten.  Even better than forgotten, I never even listened to your apparently misguided “Raditude” album, so we’re fine.  What’s the next bass line?

            If you’re wanting to be a bit more intellectual than I am about this album, you will find material to mine.  Lead singer Rivers Cuomo gives us a brief update on his life in “Back to the Shack”: “finally settled down with my girl and I made up with my dad/I had to go and make a few mistakes so I could find out who I am.”  Nice to know, River – how’s the weather?  “The British are Coming,” track 6, warns of yet another British invasion, and promises to greet the “Punk ass redcoats” with force. 

DaVinci, track 7, is more trademark Weezer cleverness, finding Cuomo “at a loss for words” trying to describe his mysterious girlfriend, whom he can’t find even on Ancestry.com:

Even Da Vinci couldn't paint you

Stephen Hawking can't explain you

Rosetta Stone could not translate you

You have to give Cuomo credit – he is a clever lyricist.

            For me, though, the key is the music, and two of the last three tracks are instrumentals that, to me, seem like a satisfying scratch to the “put up or shut up” itch that Weezer triggered in its earlier promises to return to its roots.  Here, for your listening pleasure, is the final track of the album, full of the guitar, bass and drums that make me love Weezer.

Next up: 1989, by Taylor Swift

           

            

Why is my Language so Violent?

A couple weeks ago, at work, one of my coworkers thought she was blocking my path, and apologized.  "I'd shove past you if you were in my way," I joked.  

I needed to submit some paperwork the other day, and I explained to a friend that I was going to get my ass kicked if I didn't get it done right away.

I told a coworker to "whup me upside the head" if I forgot to set up a meeting.

What the heck is wrong with me?  

I have recently started working with an agency devoted to ending the cycle of domestic violence.  We have a shelter, plus outstanding counseling services, and tremendous outreach efforts through schools, hospitals, and the police.  It's amazing what has been done, and lives are truly being saved.  My coworkers save lives.  Obviously, I'm thrilled to be a part of this work. 

But look at the language I use in my daily life.  

I'm not going overboard in the mea culpa here, either.  I'm no worse than most people, and, with my new awareness, I'm probably a little better than many.  But, now that I've started paying attention, I am honestly shocked at the level of violence most people are comfortable with in their speech.  

Football teams "destroy" and "crush" each other.  On Tuesday, some politician will "whip" another.  Polls suggest that the Republicans will "annihilate" the Democrats.  If you listen to the news, it will sound like a play-by-play of a Mixed Martial Arts match when you focus in on the violent language used to present the stories.

I'm a peaceful person.  I don't commit violence and I don't personally experience violence often.  I no longer want my language to make violence seem more commonplace or acceptable than it is.  

Hozier (Album of the Week)

            Hozier's eponymous album is an unexpected pleasure, and it gets better with every listen (well, so far).  Robin chose this album for us to review this week on the strength of the single playing everywhere.  “Take Me to Church” sounds like Elton John at his best, and that’s enough to hook Robin.  Fortunately, the whole album is packed with great lyrics, richly textured sounds and solid rock tunes. 

            So far, “Take Me to Church” is getting all the attention, with Taylor Swift tweeting her approval to 45 million people, and a socially conscious video that has racked up 19 million views.  It’s a great song, elevating sex to the status of a new religion.  “If I’m a pagan of the good times/ My lover’s the sunlight/to keep the Goddess on my side/she demands a sacrifice.” 

There’s a tradition of Irish artists loudly struggling with their church, but Hozier skips right past all that tired crap to crow about his own pagan joy.  Hozier’s not going to get tied down into theological arguments or join in with the typical railing against organized religion.  Instead, he’s joyously romping in the sack and finding his religion there.

            As good as that song is, Hozier doesn’t just replicate the sound for a dozen more tracks.  Each of the 13 songs on the album has its own sound, distinct from the others.  “The Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene” offers another homage to sex in a gospel style, complete with a swelling chorus and clapping hands. 

            “Jackie and Wilson” is plain fun, with some of the best pauses since Living Colour recorded “Love Rears Its Ugly Head”.  “Work Song” is a redemptive spiritual devoted to his baby “sweet as can be,/She’d give me tooth aches just from kissing me.” 

            It’s hard to describe a voice, but his is liquid and rich.  He sounds somber and grave on “Angel of Death” and then sunny and happy on the infectious “Someone New”.  And, as mentioned in the first paragraph, he absolutely nails an Elton John imitation in the opening track, “Take Me to Church”.

            It’s also hard to choose a favorite track, but there are several that stand out.  “From Eden” is a creepy stalker’s tale with an unnerving cello.  “I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door,” proceeds to “To the strand (beach), a picnic planned for you and me,/a rope in hand, for your other man,/To hang from a tree.” 

            “Sedated” portrays a junkie’s struggle to escape the grip of heroin, and he calls on his lover to save him – “Darling, don’t you stand there watching, won’t you/Come and save me from it?/Darling, don’t you join in – you’re supposed to/Drag me away from it.”  I don’t think she does, and the two of them might be the two rotting corpses that show up in the inventive but disturbing duet, “In a Week”.

            Like me, Robin enjoyed this album quite a bit, and she recommends it “wholeheartedly”.  She doesn’t say it, but I know she wishes there were a little bit of that old Elton John sound, though.

Next up:  Everything Will be Alright in the End, by Weezer