I noticed a lot of things while selling my soul to corporate
America and shopping at the mall this past weekend. First things
first, that new patchwork design by Coach is rather classy,
naysayers be damned. Also, the prices at Bloomingdale’s have
me raising my eyebrows more often than Time’s curious new
list of the 100 all-time movies.
I’m about the furthest thing from an avid shopper by any
stretch, but sometimes you just get carted around, and this was one
of those times. Of course, I started paying attention to the music
being played in the various stores I was walking in and out of.
They were playing Basement Jaxx at Express, and that was kind of
cool; a lot of these places like to play electronic music to sound
hip or edgy, but fun electronic music like the Jaxx is the only
kind I’m OK with in the least. Nothing throws your average
college guy off more than the runway techno found at places like
Guess (which is probably the point). Coupled with giant pictures of
Paris Hilton plastered everywhere, it all makes for a rather
uncomfortable experience.
On the other end of the spectrum is the Gap, which tries to
construct this All-American, eat-your-Wheaties and
walk-don’t-drive image. The cashier rang me up to the Velvet
Underground’s “Rock & Roll,” which really
could not have been more fitting. Yes, before you do a double take,
I just used the word “fitting” to describe The Velvet
Underground in terms of the Gap. Just think about it for a moment,
and let your cynical side wryly agree that there really isn’t
anything more All-American than fringe genius being swallowed up
and commodified by mainstream culture.
Lou Reed’s triumphant, heartfelt ode is probably the best
song ever put on record with the words “rock &
roll” in the title (with all due apologies to Led Zeppelin,
Chuck Berry, and the Rolling Stones), and may be the best song ever
written about rock ‘n’ roll, period. I was appreciating
this as I gaily took advantage of a special on pique polos.
Which got me wondering where exactly rock ‘n’ roll
is right now. I mean, what has happened? Has it all been subsumed
and homogenized by The Man, the way Reed’s “Rock &
Roll” was at a shopping center geared toward affluent
daddy’s girls? Have things regressed to the point where The
New Yorker can make a statement like, “Anti-poppists will
have a hard time holding the line against the former American Idol
Kelly Clarkson, who currently has the best rock song on the
charts,” and get away with it because it’s true?
Yes, for the most part. I won’t bother naming the usual
suspects. But even artists who critics and fans have latched onto
are questionable. The White Stripes deserve credit for keeping
things honest, but let’s face it: It’s fundamentally
impossible to rock when your drummer sucks. Their new record proves
this once again. There is just no way Meg White is using both
hands.
And from the other side of the Atlantic … Speaking of
drummers, Bloc Party’s is a beast, sure, but they only rock
in spots. And don’t give me Franz Ferdinand. You can’t
be bringing the rock if, as Liam Gallagher managed to point out
between curse words, your lead singer even remotely resembles Right
Said Fred.
And by rock ‘n’ roll, for anyone who’s not
following me, I mean the spirit as much as the sound. Everything
from Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” to the
Led’s “When the Levee Breaks.” Uncompromising,
provocative, and ““ even when the subject matter is not
““ somehow almost always genuinely celebratory.
Out in the mainstream, respect goes out to rock of the harder
variety, being progressed by groups like System of a Down and
Queens of the Stone Age. Still, with the rare exception, the pop
music landscape is pretty much a rock desert.
But maybe my problem is that I’m looking in the wrong
place. Maybe I need to look back to the fringes, where it all
began, where there are whispers that rock ‘n’ roll is
being kept alive. The new Sleater-Kinney, some say. The Hold
Steady, say others. But if there is, I haven’t heard it.
Until then, I got plenty of VU records to hold me over.
E-mail Lee at alee@media.ucla.edu.