Четверг 12 Фев 2009, 4:14
Originally, this entry was supposed to coincide with Bruce Springsteen's Super Bowl halftime performance, but I am both busy and lazy, which is one hell of a combination for writing timely pieces. If I was a journalist, I'd be fired. Sacked. Shown the door. But, having been thrown out of plenty of places, I have practice on not letting it hit me in the ass on the way out.
Anyway, it struck me that recent Super Bowl halftime shows have most often featured older stars with a lot of mainstream appeal: Paul McCartney, Prince, Springsteen (more about him below), Tom Petty, etc. And I started wondering, who of the current generation of pop stars might be playing at the Super Bowl in five years? Ten years? Leave some guesses if you want.
The Great Super Bowl Halftime Missed Opportunity
If the Ramones were all still alive, they could easily fit eight songs into the 12-minute time limit, and it wouldn't even need to be a medley. Are they mainstream enough, now? Well, kinda yeah, I think. If you can hear it being played in shopping malls (at The Gap, to be specific), then it's probably mainstream enough. Are they popular enough? Sadly, probably not. But let's tread lightly on that issue so we don't muddy up my dream with filthy reality.
Intro
3:27
2:32
4:08
3:40
1:57/1:58
3:14
6:20-6:24
2:54
4:42/4:43
2:25
4:20
2:35
5:55-5:59
3:35
The Top Twelve Songs at 2:44
1) Folsom Prison Blues–Johnny Cash
Not only a monumentally great song just as a piece of music, it has given us the iconic lines "I shot a man in Reno / Just to watch him die," and (in the live version) the simple introduction, "Hello. I'm Johnny Cash."
Back when he was still alive, I used to ask people, "Who is the second coolest living American?" Because there was no question who the coolest was; only second place was debatable.
2) We're Just Friends–Wilco
It is always both wonderful and shocking when a songwriter tells you what you just did, down to the smallest emotional detail. This is Jeff Tweedy's sharp and poignant encapsulation of the horrible thing that guys do when we regret completely fucking up a love affair, and entertain the pathetic and unrealistic hope of getting back together: We pick up the pieces of our heart, clumsily reassemble them so that the thing looks almost right, in low light and at the right angle, and offer it back to our ex-lover with a broken smile. “Look what I made,” we’ll whisper. “It’s for you.”
3) Your Cheatin' Heart–Hank Williams
Hank plays the wronged lover with such conviction, he should be on the face of the "Wronged Lover" Tarot card, if there was one. (Is there one?). The cool thing, and it's cool because it's so emotionally accurate, is that underneath all the pain is a feeling of righteousness in the accusation. Something sick inside him is looking forward to his lover's awakening to guilt and pain, indeed perhaps also to sharing it with her. And yeah, I lived this song too.
Some of you are likely shocked that I have this as low as #3. It's a strong group, what can I say.
4) Jackson–Johnny Cash
When I was about seven years old, I rode with my Uncle Brad up to Jackson, Mississippi to do something or other, and on the drive up, this song came on the radio. I asked, "How did they know that we're going to Jackson?" My Uncle Brad told me that you could only hear this song when you were actually going to Jackson, because it was broadcast on a tight radio beam down that specific highway. I believed him, because after all, how else could you explain it?
5) Gouge Away–Pixies
Black Francis channels Samson in this short dramatic monologue. If they’d used this song as part of the Vacation Bible School curriculum, I might have stayed in the church. Doesn’t someone need to do a full gospel cover of this, like, yesterday?
6) Nowhere Man–The Beatles
When I was little, my mom had Meet the Beatles, but nothing else by them, so I remember hearing the rest of their catalog in bits and pieces on the radio. I suppose it was bizarre to have new-to-me Beatles songs just coming out of nowhere at random intervals, but to me it was the norm: if you just listened to the radio long enough, an old song I'd never heard before by a great band would magically appear.
7) Blank Generation–Richard Hell and the Voidoids
More proto-punk than punk proper, the Voidoids didn't discard the blues template as cleanly as most of the initial punks did. It’s not particularly bluesy by 70s rock standards, but it’s got a swing that most early punk rockers either rejected or couldn’t play. Not to revivify the old canard that "punk rockers can't play their damn instruments," because…well, it was true in some cases. Let's leave it at that.
8) Candy's Room–Bruce Springsteen
I understand how revered Bruce is, and at the risk of offending his true believers, here's my (brief) theory of where he went wrong: he got so famous, and so revered, that he had to struggle mighty hard to stay humble and remember where he came from, except that's almost impossible to do when you have worshippers up your ass 24-7. Already inclined to mythologizing his working-class roots, once he got too far away from them, all he had left was the mythology. It wasn't his fault; he surely tried to stay true-to-life, and in his own manner, I think he did–just not in a way that resonates with me. So, Bruce acolytes, if you want to tell me why I'm wrong, remember two things: I have a CRAZY THEORY and I'm not from New Jersey.
"Candy's Room" is from the Revered Artist before he got full of his reflected reverence, and features a terrific build from understatement to the full-roar Springsteen experience. This would have been a terrific cover for the Pixies (faking the sincerity) or Nirvana (unplugged, slowed down, earnest as hell).
9) I Saw the Light–Hank Williams
In that same Tarot deck I mentioned, this is the card for the Redeemed. Knowing that Hank’s attempts at spiritual redemption didn’t help him much (in this world, anyway) doesn’t detract from the power of hope that you hear: the sound of being on the wagon.
10) Don't Come Close–The Ramones
Unlike most early Ramones tracks, this one has most of the edge sanded down, which is kind of a drawback, but damn this should have been a hit.
11) I'm So Lonesome (I Could Cry)–Atlas Sound
In Hank's original, he is telling the truth as he knows it, in a plainspoken way, but Bradford Cox seems like he is almost relishing the feeling, as if loneliness is a reasonable option, all things considered.
12) E's Navy Blue–Tobin Sprout
Here's another bound-to-be-unpopular opinion: song-for-song, Tobin Sprout is a better pop songwriter than Robert Pollard. Of course, Pollard has volume going for him, as he writes and records hundreds of songs every afternoon; no one can match that, and fecundity can be a virtue. But should Pollard get penalized for all the half-realized crap he's popped out, too? I'm not saying yes or no, just that it's something to consider.
If you lined up each writer's ten best songs and compared them, I'm pretty sure Pollard would win. But if you made an adjustment for volume, and put Sprout's second best against Pollard's 10th best, and Sprout's third best against Pollard's 20th best, and so on, I say Sprout's in that race. Maybe someone should actually try that–someone who is a bigger Guided By Voices fan than I am.
Now pretend I'm Artie Fufkin and kick my ass.