Big D's Record Guide

So, why become a rock critic? Why, now, when music is so dead (it's not, but whatever) and the whole idea of getting excited about little tidbits like the fact that schlochmeisters Chicago have titled all of their albums with sequential roman numerals seems so inconsequential?

Well, I'll tell you. For one thing, it's been a fantasy of mine ever since I was a lad. Other kids wanted to grow up to be Pele, Dorothy Hamill, or Bruce Lee, but I could only imagine a successful future as say the next Chet Flippo (bony ass scraping the bottom of a Kentucky rocking chair, trying to make Dolly believe that I am busy taking notes as she bends over to pour more cream in my coffee and tells me how funny it is that she, a Country music artist, is being interviewed by Rolling Stone) or the next Dave Marsh, elusive and magical in horn-rims, spilling as much personal anguish into the likes of "30 Bob Dylan Songs which Feature Adverbs in their Titles" as my latest edition of Rock Lists will hold. I'd have dreams in which I am out on the playground standing around a group of kids who think that Led Zeppelin and Jethro Tull are guys' names. They raise their cassettes up in homage hoping for an impromptu review and future purchase suggestion. "Listen, kid," I say with all of the rock 'n' roll weariness/wisdom I can muster, "You'd do yourself a favor if you'd drop that Aldo Nova record in the bucket and pick up The Weavers at Carnegie Hall. It's seminal."

But it never seemed to have much career potential; recently, however, rock critics (and/or rock writers) have done well for themselves. Cameron Crowe started out writing articles for Rolling Stone about why he thought Led Zeppelin was cool (when he was 15!) and now he makes really cheesy, successful movies. Joe Eszterhas used to write for Rolling Stone, too. It's not hard to see the rock star greed in the way he dashes out those screenplays and, shit, the guy looks like a cross between Gene Simmons and Leon Russell anyhow (as you can see at left). I can see him walking around the Hollywood parties all bleery eyed from drugs and age, trying to hit on all of the little girls. "I'm a writer," he says, flashing them an acre of hairy chest. "It's OK, baby, easy now," he tells them later in the sack, letting his big Orson Welles belly flow over them like a blanket of skin.... Greil Marcus, possibly the most celebrated (certainly the most intellectual...look at all of those books!) of all rock critics (he's the critic's critic, I guess) has now moved beyond the rock realm, cramming college syllabi with esoterica like Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the 20th Century (of course the fact that it has Johnny Rotten on the cover can't be ignored). Lester Bangs, the Belushi of critics, would certainly be some kind of celebrity these days had he not died in his early 30s. And then there's MTV's own Kurt Loder, who spends most of his time smirking at the Spice Girls and Puff Daddy. Once in awhile,though, you'll see his Max Headroom-mug in one of these "100 Best Albums" coffee-table books above a list of overrated and hyperobscure crap like OI! compilations and Phil Ochs reissues.

So, here I am finally. Ready to go...well, almost. There are a few things you need in your trick bag before you can call yourself a bona fide rock critic.

The first is a cool name. As you can see from the following list, rock critics, as lonely and surly and devoid of groupies (well, with the exception of that omnipresently sexy country denizen Chet Flippo) as they may be, you gotta give them this--they have cool names:

So, in the interest of continuing in the grand tradition of rock criticism, I've decided to change my name (at least in this section of things) to FELIX SLEEVES. Onward to immortality!

There's one other thing, though. Any critic who hopes to achieve mass success should have a ratings system. Rolling Stone has their one-five star ratings system. Spin has their green-yellow-red light gimmick. Robert Christgau, one of the big boys, whose bitter old man take on rock 'n' roll developments in the late '80s/early '90s for the Village Voice carried me through my college years, even uses an A-F grading system. Some fairly well-known critics, including Joe Carducci and the late, great Bangs, never seemed to have felt the need for any kind of graded ratings system. But screw them, Sleeves is gonna be the Siskel and Ebert of this shit!

Here are a few ratings systems I'm considering. I haven't decided on any one yet....
EARS...My stab at ape-ing S&E's brilliant use of a body part, though it bares more of a relation to Al Goldstein's use of "hard-ons" to review porno films in Screw magazine...after all it is music isn't it? ...But then again, while five hard-ons are always better than just three, more ears seems to lead to less precision...Can 4 ears hear more aesthetically than 2?
BEATLE HEADS...John Lennon being the highest rating (even though, I have to admit I'm partial to George Harrison, who not only has the best solo album, but is into the spiritual thing, so you know...I can at least put him in the top 2) and Ringo (which interestingly enough means "apple" in Japanese) being the lowest...has the added bonus of new slang..."Blecch, that album is a real Ringo!"
ANIMALS...I guess the more exotic animals could be the best, but, then again, there's the possibility that a "lion" could be a really great metal album but be a really bombastic Dylan album and a "beaver" could be a great Little Feat or Band record, but could be a real "dog" of a Public Enemy album.

SAT GRADES...If Christgau can give albums As or B+s, then why can't I just go ahead and give them SAT scores? After all, grades are often arbitrary, based as much upon academic excellence as to how much harrassment the members of Motley Crue dole out to the high school principal. The folks at Princeton go by merit only, baby.

I'll decide on all that later...for now let's just get the reviews as they are now (ratingless).

In defense of art rock

I like art rock. I like Yes. I like King Crimson. I like Rush. I've never heard Gentle Giant, but I'm pretty sure that I would like them, too. I like my music big and bombastic. I like Tolkien-inspired lyrics, classical interludes, and redundant time changes. I like songs that take up the whole side of an album. If a band doesn't have at least one song about a wizard, a medieval historical figure or a "fire witch," I'm bored real quick....

To admit all of this in one breath and call yourself a "critic" in the next is akin to standing up in front of an AA meeting for the first time. Critics like middle-of-the-road, pseudo-sophisticated mush and have been the secret ruiners of rock 'n' roll for just that reason. Sure, I have Dave Marsh to thank for introducing me to some of my favorite bands and albums. But while I stood there with my little snot-nose stuck up in the air and listened to boring critical faves like Dire Straits and Robert Cray, spent most of money buying the insignificant, but still acclaimed, albums of Elvis Costello, REM and the Beatles (after I'd already bought all of the good ones), other kids were seeing 25-50 rows of fellow Neil Peart Jrs. flawlessly airdrumming, in a show of devotion not often seen in the Western Hemisphere, the solo to "YYZ;" they were seeing Bruce Dickenson, dressed to the 6s in armor, fighting off a ten foot tall Eddie; and they were watching in awe the magic of Ian Anderson chasing maidens across the stage... I missed all of this. It's too late for me. I have the critics to thank for that, too.

I've told everyone I know how I sincerely believe that bands like Green Day and No Doubt, who are popular enough to play in arenas, are ripping their audiences off by not having any on-stage props. Green Day could at least have huge, floppy punk muppets of themselves dropped into the mosh pit. U2 tries, but their ideas are pedestrian and obtusely trendy (a giant martini olive...how '90s). Yes actually had Roger Dean, the artist who designed all of their wonderful album covers, custom design their stage set--a netherworld of pods, coccoons and various pasta-inspired shapes. Now, that's a show.

I mean, come on, don't you think that has-beens Pearl Jam would be a lot cooler if Eddie Vedder used that Viking bellow of his for something other than hookless, morbid flannel drudge? He should be dressed in a long black cape, singing about wizards, dragons and honor. "Jeremy spoke unto the dra-gon," he would cry. And album sales would sky-rocket. Metallica is another example. I never really cared much for their subject matter (at least for the high school newspaper level political commentary), but I admired their technique, their overly long and complex Sabbathy doom operas and my art rock sensibilities were thrilled by their Yoda-cum-Japanese syntax ("Die, you will," et al). By the really hard to play ...And Justice For All, they had me hooked. But then, they foolishly changed geers. Subject matter wise, they were on the right track: "Of Wolf and Man," "The Unforgiven," "King Nothing." But musically this stuff is softer than Alice in Chains, simpler than the Ramones. Who wants to pay to hear Lars Ulrich (which is a great name, I won't slight him that) play something I could play? Never do I. Why doesn't Metallica throw aside their untargeted political rants, take a cue from their ancestors Iron Maiden and put out something substantial like a concept album based on C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia?

Below, I've included a window into the possible futures of a few of today's waning stars, which details how they might boost their careers through art rock. It's pretty self-explanatory. But I hope that some of these artists have internet access, because I think my guidelines could really make them some money.

Pearl Jam-Pearl Jam-SIDE ONE: Chimaera; Gnome SIDE TWO: Liege--After the disappointing sales of their last few albums, Pearl Jam are back with this self-titled CD (also available on vinyl). Highlights include Vedder's passionate vocal performance and poetry reading on "Gnome," and Stone Gossard's 5 minute-long hurdy gurdy solo, the centerpiece of the 30+ minute long "Liege." Just as Dave Krusen's drum solo on "Chimaera" and Vedder's mantra-like chant of "not my liege, not my lord, not my law" testify, this band isn't going to go away anytime soon. Says Vedder, "We were tired of playing the same basic stuff. We wanted to spread our wings a bit."

For the King!-Metallica (featuring the London Philharmonic)-CD ONE: Chivalry; For the King!; Cry of the Gryphon 1. Battle Begun 2. Sentinel 3. Whoahoahgghh!; Fallen Knight CD TWO: Witch's Bane; Chaotic Neutrality; Angore the Cleric; Loki(instrumental); Risen--Metallica takes up where it left off with ...And Justice for All on this highly complex 2 CD concept album/movie soundtrack. Also includes illustrated storybook and scenes from the upcoming film. Says James Hetfield, "We are back to doing what we do best: pushing the envelope." Ulrich, who has increased his drum set to 20 pieces including chimes and gongs, agrees. The band especially liked working with the orchestra. Jason Newsted, who joined the orchestra on cello for the ballad "Fallen Knight," says "Yeah, we were surprised but those dudes knew how to party." The movie in which Metallica play four barbarians is still shooting in Scotland. (artwork by Michael Stevens).

Wizard-Soundgarden-SIDE ONE: Pyramidst; 777th Son; Lohengrin; Book of Nathan SIDE TWO: Goliath Complex; Kingdom Come, Kingdom Go; Wizard--A few years ago with Superunknown, Soundgarden thought their success would never end. But with the sales of their last album Down on the Upside more on the downside, Soundgarden has decided to go back to their roots. They've gone back to the long-haired, barechested look of the Louder than Love days. Says Kim Thayil, "People have always said that we sound like Led Zeppelin. Now, we're willing to admit they're right." "Kingdom come and kingdom go, with blood thine statues cast, but you won't be the last, Ozymandias!" sings Cornell, dressed in chainmail in the band's video for "Kingdom come, Kingdom Go."

OK, so now that I've had my fun, you're probably wondering what some of my favorite art rock albums are. Here are a few that I really like and/or think are interesting for one reason or another.

  1. Tales from Topographic Oceans-Yes--This is the ultimate: 2 records, 4 songs, 80 minutes--most of which is intriguing guitar noise and irresistible gobbledygook. Close to the Edge is probably better being that it is at least listenable and only one of its songs clocks in at over 20 minutes and none of it is in French. Halfway through the first song on Tales ("The Revealing Science of God") you won't even remember your own name.
  2. 2112-Rush--Forget about the second side (well, maybe not "Passage to Bangkok"), this is all about the first side: a concept "side" about a gentle 22nd century hippy who rediscovers the electric guitar. He also discovers that he is a natural musician (a natural poet too...with lines like "it has wires that vibrate and bring music!"), and that the leaders of the Federation don't like to rock. So, they make him play hockey with a bunch of Manitoban thugs (just kidding). It's all based on cosmic rightwinger Ayn Rand's "Anthem" (in which our hero rediscovers electricity).
  3. In the Court of the Crimson King-King Crimson--One could argue, very convincingly I might add, that early King Crimson is nothing but a Moody Blues rip off. But this is really what started it all (the Moody Blues really weren't so hot on their instruments, you see). The title track has all of the ingredients lyrically...there's a "fire witch," a "black queen," and "puppets" even "dance." So, it sounds a little like "Nights in White Satin"...big deal. Besides, the Moodys wouldn't know what to do with the jazzy-wazzy bridge of "21st Century Schizoid Man."
  4. Aqualung-Jethro Tull--Tull, named after the medieval inventor of the iron plow (go figure?), are only sort of art rock. They're more like a blues band with a flute. But Ian Anderson, moving Pan-like across the stage, is the most medieval-looking chap this side of actor Ron Moody...and you know he eats haggis. Besides with lyrics like "who would be a poor man, a beggar man, a thief," who does he think he's fooling?

FELIX'S FINAL THOUGHT-One final note. I was talking to my cousin on the phone the other day about how terrible I thought Puff Daddy was on the 1997 MTV Video Awards. How it was embarrassing to watch him parade on the stage with that oldie Sting and demolish the latter's "Every Breath you Take." I was joking that the Puff's next "cover" should be "Roundabout." After all, Chris Squire did lay down a very funky and sampleable bass groove. Puff could even take vocalist Jon Anderson (who despite being the closest rock 'n' roll has ever come to Richard Simmons, did once put out an album called Olias of Sunhollow, so he can't be all bad) out of retirement and have him appear on stage. "Yo! We're gonna make you out and out!" 'BYE FOR NOW.

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