People sometimes ask what I think of modern rock, rap and the pop scene in general. I usually say I don’t think much about it; that is, I rarely pay any attention to it. Consequently, if I’m asked where modern rock seems to be headed, I haven’t the slightest idea, though some of my favorite New York critics predict it’s headed to oblivion. Given the Justin Bieber phenomenon, I might suggest that within five years the members of America’s most popular bands will all be younger than 13 – unless the Rolling Stones are still on tour.
If I’m not qualified to speak on today’s pop music and where it’s going, I can certainly tell you where it came from. Trust me on this one.
The notion of rock ‘n’ roll was a creation of the mass media as much as anything else. Back in the 1950s, the powers that be realized American youth – adolescents, really – had an enormous amount of money. How to tap into this market was the question of the day. So, the record companies and Hollywood teamed up with Madison Avenue and decided the best way to exploit teenage commerce was to promote the idea that kids were different from their parents; in other words, the notion that teenagers had a separate culture with their own music, movies, clothing and radio stations. Thus, James Dean became an overnight superstar, a mop of male hair became a symbol of rebellion, Dick Clark unleashed “American Bandstand” and no self-respecting teenager within a 50-mile radius of Seattle would listen to any radio station but KJR. While their parents enjoyed Benny Goodman’s swing and watched the Lawrence Welk TV show, American youth was listening to a new kind of music called rock ‘n’ roll.
But in fact, there was really very little new about it. It was simply a new label for a musical style formerly called rhythm and blues. The “blues” came from legendry giants like Leadbelly and the tradition is currently carried on by performers like B.B. King. The “rhythm” came from many musicians in Memphis and New Orleans. One of the earliest, most renowned and most innovative proponent of R&B was the pianist and singer Fats Domino of “Blueberry Hill” fame. (Early rock ‘n’ roll really didn’t create a hell of a lot of anything, other than Presley’s pelvic gyrations, until it turned into hard rock in the late 1960s when, in fact, there actually was a “generation gap” between kids and their parents.)
Of course, today there are many R&B bands within the Greater Seattle region, promoting the fine tradition of Domino and Booker T. and the M.Gs. Locally, Craig Gamon’s group, “The Pleasure Hounds” is an excellent example. They deliver authentic, down-home, gut-level R&B. If you haven’t yet experienced their stylings, check them out some weekend in the gin-mills around town. (They’ll be appearing Saturday at Rendezvous on Myrtle Avenue.) Whether the Hounds ever make it in the big leagues outside Enumclaw is anyone’s guess. They’re certainly good enough but R&B bands are a dime a dozen. Even the good ones.
As with any art – whether music, writing, painting or whatever – how successful the practitioners become is determined not only by their products, but by who they know.
