Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Questionable Taste: A Young Man’s Musical Follies
You now know me as a music snob giant. I have a music collection that humbles all but the most impressive collectors, I look down on lesser mortals in the realization that my taste in music is far better than theirs and probably more obscure, too. I am pretty damned cool.
It was not always so. While I rarely feel the need to apologize in public, I must admit to these musical sins. They have weighed on me for years--indeed, there have been times when I listen to Woven Hand or Belly where I have felt like a fraud. I have worn the mask of music snob, but behind the disguise lurks an uncouth man with a taste for cheese.
This is where I apologize for my errors and where, in the tradition of useless apologies from American public figures, I hope we can just move on.*
- Barry Manilow
It was 1977 and I was just a small boy and through some trick or machination I had earned enough money to buy my very first album. Did I buy AC/DC’s Let There Be Rock, presaging the bulk of my high school musical taste? Of course not. How about David Bowie’s “Heroes", an even better indicator of the directions my musical tastes would lead me? Nope. How about something by The Clash or The Damned--first albums that would have cemented my musical coolness forever.
No.
I went for Barry Manilow Live. Instead of howling the lines from “Heroes” or “London’s Burning”, I sang along with “Weekend in New England” and “I Write the Songs”. I’m pretty sure that this lapse in taste went on my permanent record. - Laura Branigan
I was blinded by her beauty. Or, maybe, it was deafened by her beauty. Because, for one moment in high school I thought that her voice was a beautiful instrument. One taste now of “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You” is enough to set my teeth on edge. The syrupy lyrics, the irritating voice, the bland production.
I feel guilty singling her out--it feels as if I’m attacking the deceased--but honesty compels me. - Cinderella
I listened to Ozzy and Sabbath and Priest. I loved Metallica and Megadeth. But then there was that hair metal moment where I thought that maybe Whitesnake wasn’t so bad (I blame Tawny Kitain strategically placed on a Jaguar) and the Cinderella actually had something to offer the music world.
In fact, this isn’t strictly about Cinderella. It’s about every hair metal band and treakly power ballad that I ever loved. It’s about imagining that “Nobody’s Fool” was actually in some way related to heavy metal and that “Don’t Know What You Got (Til It’s Gone)” really wasn’t anything other than a cliche set to mediocre music. This is for every Ratt song that I tortured my parents with and every Bon Jovi song that wasn’t on the Young Guns soundtrack. - REO Speedwagon
It hit me when I accidentally listened to “Can’t Fight This Feeling”: holy crap, this band sucks. Then I searched and listened to more from the inexplicably sizable REO catalog, and I realized that they were one of those bands that thrives on mediocrity. They weren’t precisely bad (although a few minutes spent with “Here With Me” might convince you otherwise), they were just not really so good.
I’ll admit that I can still listen to “Take it on the Run” or “Time for Me to Fly”, but it’s only with a certain sense of cynical joy, a knowing smile, and a shake of the head. I can’t even work up that much enthusiasm for “Riding the Storm Out.” Like Gilligan’s Island, REO is just another memory betrayed by revisiting the reality. - Genesis
It wasn’t all bad for Genesis, but after the prog rock sound of “The Chamber of 32 Doors” and “Visions of Angels” came the Phil Collins years. Whatever good will those early years may have called up was destroyed by “There Must be Some Misunderstanding” and “Tonight, Tonight, Tonight”. The transformation of the band from one sound to the other is almost as dramatic as Ministry’s drift from light euro-pop into the world of industrial throb--but not as successful.
I can still listen to “Abacab” but it is hard to forgive “Follow You, Follow Me.” It was a slow descent from progressive to banal, but they made it so completely that their later work overshadows the earlier stuff in the worst possible way. - Styx
Aside from “Too Much Time on My Hands”, there is nothing from the Styx catalog that I can still listen to. The thing is, though, that putting them on the list almost feels like a mistake. Sure, “Babe” and “Lady” are ridiculous, “Come Sail Away” and “The Best of Times” suffer from serious over-exposure, and “Mr. Roboto” sounds so dated as to be almost unlistenable; but the band was actually good. Even though I can’t listen to them anymore, I’m not sure they count as embarrassing.
Update: On the advice of Mr. Lady, I link up someone who might not agree with my thoughts on the subject. It’s a good read. - Kansas
I don’t ever need to hear “Carry On Wayward Son” again; it’s so burned into my brain that I’ll probably hear it in some hellish medley of overplayed songs when I die. It will have a place by “Smoke on the Water”, “Stairway to Heaven”, and “Dust in the Wind” in tortuously ushering me to my final reward. The people around me will be weeping, somehow imagining that I fear that final step; in reality, the tears will be because those overplayed songs keep going round and round in my head with no sign of stopping.
The Cosmic DJ has a nasty sense of humor.
Aside from “Carry On”, Kansas was best known for another (previously mentioned) wildly overplayed song, “Dust in the Wind”. Aside from those tidbits, this pretentious band put out a bunch of laughable, overwrought songs like “Cheyenne Anthem” and the irritating “Point of No Return”. I used to like this band? - John Denver
Yet again, I find myself speaking ill of the dead. My biggest problem with Denver has nothing to do with his musicianship. Indeed, a listen to “Annie’s Song” proves that he had a beautiful voice and knew how to write songs.
No, my problem with Denver’s music revolves around that overbearing sense of sincerity that surrounds almost all of his songs. That sort of 70’s era Alan Alda sensitive guy gaze brought laboriously to an album filled with things like the hokey “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and painfully bland “Sunshine on My Shoulders”. It’s only when Denver let loose on “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” where he still sounds good to me. A few notes of “I’m Sorry”, though, and all goodwill is shattered.
I spent a good portion of my youth with John Denver. My parents listened to Simon & Garfunkel, Neil Diamond, Abba, John Denver, and the Carpenters almost exclusively. In a way, that makes this more about their taste than about mine, but it stayed with me long enough that I feel some of the shame. - Yes
I still like “Owner of a Lonely Heart”, but that is hardly representative of the bulk of the Yes catalog. I embraced Yes for a few years--a late convert convinced by songs like “Shoot Hight, Aim Low” and “Owner of a Lonely Heart”. It was almost unfair, really, both to me and the band. Because those songs sounded almost nothing like “Starship Trooper” and “I’ve Seen All Good People” (a song that, while I’m listening, I’m pretty sure will never actually end). Prog rock fans will always love Yes, but I’m not really a prog rock fan.
Mudhoney had a song on the Singles soundtrack whose title pretty much sums up my feelings about Yes. That song was called “Overblown.” - The Doors
I loved the doors. I really did. Jim Morrison had me convinced that he was a (dead) tragic hero with an artistic vision that towered over pretty much all of his contemporaries. And I can still handle “Roadhouse Blues” and “People are Strange”. The rest of their songs run somewhere between overplayed and overdone.
On some of their songs, the sense of self-importance and pretentiousness piled up on idiotic lyrics and lounge act keyboards are laughable. “The Changeling” and “L’America” for example. What I thought was meaningful turned out to be an extra-special dose of a junkie’s narcissism; The Doors may well be my nomination for most overrated band of all time, surviving only because they can tap into either nostalgia or that sense of reality distortion that exists in our teenage years--where “The End” has a spoken word interlude that might actually seem meaningful.
Of course, teen years lead up to, hopefully, adulthood where we can all sit back and giggle at the drama queen that was Jim Morrison.
Dishonorable Almost-Mentions
Metallica and Queensryche
Both bands, on the weakness of their recent albums almost made the list. Only a few albums stand between the Ryche and me being embarrassed to admit that they have a place in my CD collection. Rage for Order and Mindcrime will always hold a place in my heart--even when I’m grimacing over Q2K and Tribe.
For Metallica, it is impossible to ignore their contribution to heavy metal. They were a brilliant, loud, fast, hard band that played some of the catchiest hard core ever; that their later albums can’t even come close to the near-perfection of, say, Master of Puppets, is sad. But re-visiting “Welcome Home (Sanitarium)” and “Damage, Inc” convinced me that I can still say I love the band. It just comes with an asterisk.
* And if you didn’t notice the sense of self-deprecation in the art snob comments, at least consider that my tongue was at least close to my cheek during the entire writing of this post.
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Comments & Trackbacks
I could have written that - if I had any writing talent. There may have been an addition or two, plus there are one or two on your list that wouldn’t be on mine. Pretty much the same list, though. My wife keeps suggesting that we get rid of some of those CDs, but I won’t let here. Deep inside me I feel as though I’m paying some form of pennance. Every time that someone looks over my CD collection, even if they don’t say anything, I know that at least one of those CDs catches their eye. The stinging feeling in my soul at that moment of realization may, over time, wash away the sin of having ever listened to those bands. Maybe…
I’m pretty sure that keeping the CDs in the collection actually helps to keep us humble. And we need all the help we can get.
"On the night of the fight, you may feel a little sting. That’s pride, f***ing with you. F*** PRIDE! Pride never helps. It only hurts.”
Once again, Pulp Fiction proves to be the pop culture bible of our times. It came up earlier today in a conversation about my pig-free diet.
How dare you speak ill of Mr. Roboto. I’m half kidding because for some reason that song still gets play on my MP3 player.
And even though Ciderella had Nobody’s Fool and the hideous Don’t know what you got they did have decent songs like Back Home Again.
Man, I thought “Mr. Roboto” was the height of cool when I was in high school. Of course, I also went through an ill-advised Don Johnson phase. Luckily, that only lasted a few weeks…
Geez, I feel so tragically un-hip. Despite the fact that I’m currently listening to Laurie Anderson.
What is it with people and REO? I mean, I’m not a huge fan, but ‘Live—You Get What You Play For’ is a great album. I could take or leave their later ballads, but I can’t say I find them embarassing.
Styx: prior to Grand Illusion, they just rocked. After that, they got all PC and pretentious. Yawn. Hmmm, after Laurie is finished, I think I’ll just put Equinox on the turntable—yes, I still have one, and use it.
Laura Branigan? /me shrugs. Can’t think about her because the name makes me think of Allyson Hannigan—very distracting.
Leftoverture was indeed a pivotal album for Kansas. They, like Styx, got pretentious after that. I actually like Masque better.
Yes is among my all-time favorite bands. And I doubt I’ll ever tire of Smoke on the Water.
One thing a few of these bands have in common is having produced great live albums. REO, YES, and Deep Purple all sound good on a concert album. I’ve heard plenty of bands that just can’t do on stage what they do in the studio. Not that that’s necessarily an indicator, but I have more respect for a band that can do it without overlays, etc.
I guess you can tell that I’m a fan of progressive. ELP, Floyd, Triumvirat, etc.
Phill Collins is mostly just annoying. And we won’t speak of Manilow any further.
I pretty much stopped at Allyson Hannigan. Distraction isn’t a big enough word…
Some of the musical difference of opinion can be chalked up to two big things: I’m not a big prog rock fan and there might be a bit of a generational difference, too. Not that you are hugely older than I am, but a little goes a long way when it comes to musical taste.
And, anyway, you listen to Tom Waits; that’s a big feather in your music snob cap.
Oh, I am so sending you the prize CD from my little contest over at da’ rant.
My thoughts: Barry Manilow stole my heart. He was my second crush, at the ripe old age of 5. I still love that gay, gay bastard.
Styx: you need to wander over to Molly’s blog and read about her recent Styx uprising.(http://soapywater.blogspot.com)
Genesis: Mama is, like, the greatest song evah and shit. Eveh. I loves me some Genesis.
Cinderella: Did you know my father was responsible for hair bands? Next time we have a beer, remind me to tell you all about how Cinderella ruined my life, and the lives of most of my relatives. Jerks.
Oh, David. Just what I needed in the middle of studying Health Psych and reading The Wife of Bath. See, I think the two are definitely connected by 80s music.
I think the song that blew
your earsyour heart away by Ms. Branigan was “I’m Your Lady.” That one is truly, umm, yeah.Mr. Lady, I have got to hear that story. Can I, like, butt in, buy my own beer, and listen, eh*?
*Heh.
I don’t know if I should confess but ...
Heart
Rae, I will totally buy you a Molsten at the closest beer parlour and we can sit under a picture of The Great One and I will tell you ALL about Cinderella and what ingrateful jerks they are. Fame stealers. Home wreckers. Ozone-depleating aquanet users.
I want to hear the story about Cinderella, too. That sounds like a good drinkin’ story.
Robin, I could have put that on the list so easily; I wish I’d thought of it.
I’ll have to think about my youthful musical indiscretions - these days I mostly listen to folk and bluegrass. I suppose one of my shameful admissions is having some Jackie Gleason in my iTunes library, along with the Barry Manilow.
I also remember liking Bobby Goldsboro (and singing along to “Honey") when I was in high school.
You forgot Journey… and what about Boston?
I was this close to putting Boston in there. They definitely deserve it…
But I couldn’t put Journey in there--apparently, I’m not completely reformed.
David, you just need to embrace your inner geek. Just do it. Give him a little squeeze…
What I’ve realized is that I would be nowhere without the questionable choices of my past. Music is no different. So, when I write about my foray into musical theater at the age of 11, there is a direct link to the geek that I was and to the person I am today, which is 100% in no way a geek, right?
But the real kicker is how I’ve been raising my son and he has taken me on the rock-history tour that he has. I mean, no way on earth would I have been not only present but psyched and present for last weekend’s Dennis DeYoung concert were it not for his enthusiasm for Styx. And so, I have no doubt that someday my son will be totally embarrased by his love for Come Sail Away, Queen and even the Beatles, but right now, it’s making him a music lover. Can I ask for anything else?
RR, Heart!
Great post. I’m a bit older than you, but not enough that your list doesn’t hit home.
My cow-orkers inexplicably haven’t gotten over this crap and listen to one of those Classic Rock stations all damn day. I find that they neatly divide into:
1. Crap I hated when it was new and hate even more now.
2. Crap I sort of liked when it was new and now hate even more than the crap I hated then.
Curiously, they never seem to play any of the stuff I can still stand.
A- Why the hell is my blog throwing this weird scripting error where some things are coming up as numbers instead of whatever it is that they are supposed to be? Like Alan (the comment just above this one) is labeled “3” when it should actually be the user name that he chose? And down where the sitemeter is called, it just throws up a number. The numbers are in ascending sequence, but they aren’t always numbers. Sometimes it brings down the entire Kelly O’Brien Realty ad down to that sitemeter slot, displaying the ad in a really odd space.
I really need to fix the site. It’s a little broken right now.
B- Alan, you said a mouthful. I have that experience when I have to listen to those old stations, too. And it always seems like they play the same twenty songs every freakin’ day of the week.
That’s almost as irritating as my wonky site scripting issue.
I don’t listen to the radio much, but when I do, it’s usually at 99.5, The Mountain, but sometimes 92.3 KCUV. (Both have streaming, so you can check them out, even if you aren’t in Colorado.)
I like variety in music. For example, last time I was in Twist’n’Shout Underground, I picked up a Thunderclap Newman album. There’s a reason he had only one hit. But I digress.
Journey definitely lost my interest after Infinity.
May I add to the mix, Uriah Heep and Jethro Tull?
Yeah, it takes not many years to define a “generational gap” in musical tastes. But mine are quite broad (speaking of Heart). And I suspect that when I reach 70, I’ll still enjoy listening to mid-70s Rush.
Okay, I think I’ve just outdone everyone here. Yes, Dave, even you with your Barry Manilow, who, after all, can at least claim to be a legitimate artist. But we can get worse ... much worse.
I guess I was in the 5th grade. Not sure exactly, but it was in that time frame. I hadn’t been exposed to much popular music, though I do recall Rare Earth, Lobo, Paul Revere and the Raiders, Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, and The Pipkins, among others. (Does anyone else here remember the Cowsills?)
Anyways, it wasn’t my first album purchase, but I actually owned an LP by ...
The Partridge Family.
There, I said it. I don’t have that LP any longer, but I do still have “More of the Monkees”, which was, IIRC, the first LP I ever bought.
That said, can anyone get more obscure than the Penguin Cafe Orchestra?
For obscure, how about “Escalator over the Hill” by Carla Bley and Paul Haines, which actually had Linda Ronstadt, Jack Bruce, John McLaughlin and Gato Barbieri as guest musicians?
And I still have two copies of the Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida LP by Iron Butterfly.
Hmmm. That last comment came out with my old web address and email. I wish I’d caught that before I submitted it.