I'm having a lot of trouble with my Johnny Rivers post
Dr. X posts this from the Whisky-a-Go-Go:
I'm having a lot of trouble with my Johnny Rivers post. It was originally motivated by a desire to connect back from Devo's Secret Agent Man to the (lip-synced here) original. This performance on Letterman shows what it's like in real life.
(Ok, not to go off on a tangent right away, but you really should go listen to the Polysics version, too.)
Anyway, there are all sorts of problems associated with the socio-musicological significance of Johnny Rivers, and they are so intractable I despair of putting his achievements into the proper context. A few random points may help frame the problem:
- He sings and plays like a rock star, but doesn't have the rock star personality or physique. If he were a 10% worse musician and looked like Ryan Seacrest, he'd be Elvis Jr.
- If you ask someone "who is your favorite rock performer", almost no one will say "Johnny Rivers".
- Nonetheless, he has sold about 30 million records, and by the count of Bruce Eder at Allmusic.com this success has launched "at least three record labels and a dozen other careers."
- There was a moment in the late 60s when rock took a hard turn into the weird and trippy. Some of it was good, some not. Rivers did not make that turn. Regardless of its merits, the new style was completely at odds with his disciplined aesthetics and rhythmic priorities.
- Maybe he hasn't written enough good songs. His real core competency is taking a good song and turning in the definitive performance, e.g., Secret Agent Man, Memphis, Seventh Son, etc.
- Maybe he peaked too early. The definitive Johnny Rivers record is Live at the Whisky-a-Go-Go, a stunningly vivid document of his inaugural stand at the LA hotspot, the flawless representation on vinyl of a polished rock and roll artist, a man utterly in command of his medium. He was 22.
But these are the hallmarks of a successful career in the music business, not of great artistic achievement. His artistic claim rests solely on his mastery of the simple but elusive go-go rock genre. Rivers may be a one-trick pony, but it is a very good trick.
He has a sense of humor, too. Here's a nice version of Memphis, with him throwing in some Bob Dylan on the third verse at no extra charge:
If it were my Rock and Roll Hall of Fame he'd be in, but they don't take my calls since that dustup over The Dickies. Rivers' website is here.
1 Comments:
On a bit of a tangent, and perhaps a trite one at that: I've noticed that most songs whose popularity half-life is significantly longer than that of the standard pop song have bass lines that are worthy of close scrutiny.
Usually, I don't notice them right away, but a later listen on a quality stereo reveals a bassist that is doing significantly more than just etching the chord on every beat. The bass line is often the unsung soul of the classic song, and a cover band drops or alters the low end at its peril.
My observations have given rise to a few hypotheses. I'm still deciding whether or not they are themselves worthy of further scrutiny.
1: Good bass lines may be simple or complex, but they were not as obvious to their composer as they might be to the music appreciator.
2: Good bass line composition is a skill that requires, above and beyond understanding of music itself, a sensitivity to the purpose and shape of the song it supports.
3: Many writers of popular songs do not possess these particular skills to any high degree.
4: Critical to the success of a classic song, therefore, is the presence at its birth (or during its rebirth via inspired cover) of a dang good bassist.
If I'm right, I am sure there are examples out there. Perhaps I'll look them up...
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