the beatles

Keep the Noise Down: The Sound of Silence

Music is undoubtedly getting louder. From the moment the dial was turned up to 11 in This Is Spinal Tap, musicians and producers have, on the whole, been reluctant to turn the volume down. A recent study in Scientific Report proved that music has, indeed, been steadily getting louder since the mid-1960s, as the belief that ‘louder is better’ becomes increasingly commonplace. At the same time, however, many artists have become more experimental in their use of minimalism and silence in music.

It feels contradictory to talk about music in terms of silence; they are, after all, antithetical concepts. However, the careful use of silence in music can often create some of the most memorable and powerful sonic moments. The composer John Cage pushed this idea to the limit with his 1952 composition, 4 Minutes 33 Seconds, in which the musicians do not play their instruments, rather, the piece consists of the sounds of the environment that the listeners hear while it is ‘performed’. Whilst this is an extreme example, well-judged instances of silence in music can offer the listener a moment to reflect on the meaning of a song and therefore enable a more potent connection between artist and consumer.

A recent study in Scientific Report proved that music has, indeed, been steadily getting louder since the mid-1960s

Many already quiet songs buck the trend for volume even further and stand out all the more because of it. The Beatles’ Let It Be is already fairly quiet, but way the music dips at certain points takes it to a new level of poignancy and encourages the listener to engage with the song’s meaning. In music that is otherwise loud or bombastic, silent beats can have the opposite effect, offering the listener a second to ‘recover’ or take a breath. To this end, the beat of silence towards the end of Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys seems to be readying us for the subsequent onslaught of percussion even more intense than that of the previous two and a half minutes. Likewise, the slight pause part way through the Sex Pistols’ Pretty Vacant serves to make the message of the song even clearer. Would either of these songs, and others like them, leave half as much of a lasting impression without these simple beats of silence?

Minimalism in music is often used to the most obvious dramatic effect in film scores, where the images on screen visualise and emphasise the drama inherent in the music. Think of the climactic baptism scene in The Godfather, for instance, in which the organ music builds and builds during the montage of the baptism and the preparation for the massacre, before falling silent for a few seconds, only to start up again, louder than ever, as the shootouts begin. The beat of silence in the score alone is noticeable and dramatic, but the effect is heightened by the accompanying visuals.

Today’s digital formats cause music to lose much of its dynamic contrast, so being loud is often considered the only way to attract attention and recognition. However, some of the most enduring and affecting pieces of modern music eschew this in favour of either a stripped-down soundscape or by including well-timed moments of silence to encourage active engagement with the music. It might be easier to hear music when the volume is ramped up to 11, but the sound of silence carries with it a meaningfulness that takes feeling the music to a whole new level.

Paint and pot

Picture the scene: your creative writing deadline is rapidly approaching, you’ve completely run out of ideas, and then the internet tells you that Ernest Hemingway – one of America’s most celebrated writers – once said: “write drunk, edit sober”. In such desperate (hypothetical) circumstances, you’d perhaps be forgiven for thinking that it might just work. After all, drugs – including alcohol – definitely have the ability to elevate your thoughts, or give you a new perspective on life; in the words of songwriter Graham Nash, “weed unlocked my mind and my emotions, which had to be awakened for me to start writing meaningfully”.

Nash certainly isn’t alone: the high-pressure music industry is particularly infamous for creating drug addicts, often with tragic consequences. Reduced inhibitions, enhanced imagination, and vivid hallucinations can all add to the artistic process, although of course it’s worth noting these artists might simply be using drugs for the enjoyment of it.

Dr Alain Dagher wrote that drugs help you when “making conceptual links in your brain between things that you may not normally link”, but other studies suggest that a large part of this is simply the feeling that you’re more creative. A study from the Netherlands tested this theory, asking 60 cannabis users to invent as many alternative functions for domestic items (for example a pen or a shoe) as possible. Their research showed that low doses of cannabis had a minimal impact on creative ability, and high doses actually impaired them, so there isn’t a clear-cut relationship between drugs and artistic success.

There’s definitely a link though, and one which stretches back through the centuries. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Romantic poet extraordinaire, famously composed ‘Kubla Khan’ after a particularly vivid dream, whilst on a “medication” which was presumably opium. He described laudanum as “a miracle”, and was glamourised by the public as a fantastic, drug-fuelled genius.

Vincent Van Gogh frequently drank alcohol to excess, especially high-percentage spirits like absinthe. On top of this, the digitalis that was used to treat his epilepsy could have caused him to see yellow spots, hence his frequent use of the colour.

Obviously, the 60s was an important decade for drugs, and this was abundantly clear in the art world. In particular, art critic Ken Johnson notes the importance of the psychedelic movement, and the trend for eye-catching acid posters, which he argues contributed to an artistic revolution where “color exploded… typography was twisted and oozed and melted into shapes”.

THE TREND FOR EYE-CATCHING ACID POSTERS IN THE sixties contributed to an artistic revolution

From Jimi Hendrix to The Beatles, these gig posters suddenly felt like mind-bending optical illusions that “spoke directly to an audience happily experimenting with LSD”. These bright explosions and groovy colour-schemes are still prominent today, filtering into modern art and even being used in adverts for companies like Coca Cola.

Bryan Lewis Saunders, from Tennessee, took the concept of drugs influencing art to the next level. Experimenting with a new drug every day, he produced a range of self-portraits under the influence; he now has over 50. Although the science is questionable, the range of styles and images is intoxicating: heroin, for example, produces a distorted line drawing, in which his eyes, nose and mouth are barely visible underneath a mess of incoherent squiggles; hash, meanwhile, leads to a recognisable portrait in childish pastel colours, with pink, blue and yellow fumes filling the background. After 60mg of Geodon, Bryan even decided to add bullet holes to the sketch, saying he recalls “bouncing into the walls like a fly going bong, bong, bong”. Saunders’ experiments show the range of feelings produced by drugs, and the variety of artistic possibilities a creative mind can create.

http://bryanlewissaunders.org/drugs/

But does that mean drugs make artists more creative? Well, it turns out the Hemingway quote about writing sober is completely falsified, or at least misattributed, and maybe that shows society has a poor attitude towards art. The ability to create great art can’t simply be attained by anyone with access to drugs: it takes hard work, practice, and skill. Hallucinogens might be able to release an artist’s imagination, but you still need a brilliant creative mind for anything to come of it.

The Top of the Poppers

Be it as an mind opening gateway to creativity, for spiritual and meditative purposes, or to simply enhance the enjoyment of music, psychoactive substances have always been present in the background of the music scene. However, subtly, (yet often explicitly and to much criticism), drugs have persistently played a part in the foreground music. The controversy lies in the discussion of whether the romanticism of drug taking should be allowed in the content of music since the promotion of illegal substances must be marked as wrong, or at least made inaccessible to children.

Should action be taken to hide the infamous drug culture of music?

Prolifically, the 1920s jazz scene was rife with heroin use as artists often used it as a coping mechanism for tour fatigue due to busy schedules. Despite this, it was mostly taken to escape the internal conflict of performing to primarily white crowds when outside the venue others were being persecuted for their skin colour. The sound of this struggle is therefore echoed in the music of the time. Hip-hop music has developed out of and against racial oppression, bringing with it the lifestyle and vocalisation of gang culture. Rap has frequently come under fire for appearing to promote the use and dealing of illegal drugs in its lyrics, but shouldn’t artists have the freedom to speak on a topic that is merely a fact of life regardless of its danger? Timepiece’s saviour Snoop Dogg has even managed to successfully market himself on marijuana, with his only excuse to the police being that he makes music. That is quite telling: music allows for the bending of rules.

Artists may use drugs as a way to ease nerves when performing, but the irony lies in that members of the crowd, audience, club, or living room, are also mostly intoxicated. Drugs such as marijuana, MDMA and cocaine have all fuelled listeners for the purposes of music appreciation and enjoyment. They have been used to stimulate artists, whilst also stimulating new ways of responding to sounds when writing and listening which then snowballs into the birthing of new genres and experimentations tailored by and for the use of certain drugs. With electronic music of all kinds being gurned out of cocaine and MDMA in particular, Johnny Cash’s ‘Cocaine Blues’ has spread like bong smoke from the open studio window. However, looking no further than The 1975, Rihanna, and Lil Wayne, younger listeners are being exposed to music romanticising drugs. Should action be taken to hide the infamous drug culture of music, and of life?

“The musicians that have made that great music that has enhanced your lives throughout the years… were real fucking high on drugs”

Despite Pink Floyd’s celebration of a drug induced state in their epic ‘Comfortably Numb’, reports from their 1968 London show state that Syd Barrett played only one chord the entire performance because he was so teleported on acid. But, without Bob Dylan introducing The Beatles to his ‘Mr Tambourine Man’, they would have been without their suppler of weed and LSD, (which at the time of their first try was still legal), needed to produce ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ and ‘Day Tripper’. Similarly, Oasis’ ‘Champagne Supernova’ and The Stranglers’ ‘Golden Brown’ would be denied airplay if talking overtly and even covertly about drugs is censored. Why should the single word ‘drugs’ be bleeped out of Nickleback’s ‘Rockstar’ on the radio when misogynistic and violent language is allowed?

Conversely, the dangers of drugs lurk in the corners of music. If narcotics are a part of the realities of your life and environment, then speaking of them should not always be considered glamorisation. American hip-hop frequently warns of drug use, as in Kool Moe Dee’s ‘Monster Crack’, so should not be so heavily targeted for supporting drug use. The dark truths are learnt by musicians, just take a look at Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain who all lost their talented lives to overdosing. But, isn’t that the risk that comes with sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll?

Ultimately, perhaps we should heed the words of the late Bill Hicks: “Drugs have done good things for us. If you don’t believe they have, do me a favour – take all your albums, tapes, and CDs and burn them, ‘cause you know what? The musicians that have made that great music that has enhanced your lives throughout the years… were real fucking high on drugs.”

Pakistan, India and Bangladesh: tangled up in the Blues

1965 saw a turning point in the Beatles’ music. ‘Norwegian Wood’ from Rubber Soul (1965) featured George Harrison on the sitar, a traditional Indian stringed instrument. What was happening beneath this instrumentation, however, was a subtler, yet very sharp, turn away from western pop music. Listen to how the melody in ‘Norwegian Wood’ comes in little blocks: the line “I once had a girl, or should I say: ‘she once had me’?” comes in three choppy little melodic phrases, descending and reascending a nine note scale that is neither discernibly major nor minor. Now listen to an earlier Beatles song, like “She Loves You.” The main melody is a descent of a minor chord, and 90% of the lyrics are the word “yeah.” Not to say that the simplicity of early Beatles music wasn’t still highly enjoyable – people loved this energetic new style of what was essentially 12-bar Blues so much that fans had to be physically restrained at live shows – but the influence of Indian instruments and melodies on the Beatles made their mid-sixties albums as interesting as LSD made their late-sixties albums.

Since the Beatles (and particularly George Harrison) helped introduce Europe and America to Indian Classical Music in the 1960s, artists such as Ravi Shankar (রবীন্দ্র শঙ্কর চৌধুরী), Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (نصرت فتح علی خان), Ali Akbar Khan (আলী আকবর খাঁ), and V.G. Jog have risen to popularity, and garnered acclaim from western music critics. Popular interest in what has become known as Indian Classical Music, but actually features music from Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, has also had a tangible effect on the academy. By the 1970s, Ethnomusicology departments were springing up in universities throughout Europe and the US. But this was all happening at a time when Indian and Pakistani immigration into the UK, particularly in the North, was soaring, and immigrants suffered a great deal of racial abuse. The film East is East portrays with tragic brilliance the way that Pakistani, Indian and Bangladeshi culture was being derided and marginalised by vast swathes of British society.

We should bear this fraught history of Anglo-Pakistani/Anglo Indian/Anglo-Bangladeshi culture in mind as we become listeners of ‘Indian Classical Music’, because we need to make sure that our consumption of it doesn’t move from international music fandom into cultural appropriation. It is worth checking out all of the names mentioned above on YouTube, and the UK and US artists whom they have influenced. But, it is also important to differentiate between where Pakistani/Indian/Bangladeshi melodies and instruments have been incorporated and where they have been appropriated.

The Playlist

Ravi Shankar – ‘Live at Monterey Pop.’ In 1965, David Crosby of the Byrds introduced George Harrison to an Indian sitar player who had developed a small cult following amongst the transatlantic pop scene. By 1966, Harrison had travelled to India to formally request to become a student of Shankar’s. By 1967, Shankar had become such a mainstream phenomenon that he was invited to play at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival in California. The pop music demographic was becoming obsessed with virtuosos, ambient and ethereal soundscapes, emotional depth and searing intensity: Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Janis Joplin – their fans saw that in many ways Ravi Shankar did many of the same things. He was a virtuoso, he could play incredibly fast and complex melodies; he could create strange harmonies and dissonances that departed from the easy binaries of major and minor keys; his lengthy, intense ragas appealed to fans of Hendrix’s long, trippy guitar solos.

The Beatles – ‘Norwegian Wood.’ As already mentioned, “Norwegian Wood” was a volta in the Beatles’ back-catalogue. George Harrison’s musical epiphany, which came in the form of a flight case full of Ravi Shankar vinyls, had a seismic effect on pop music, on both sides of the Atlantic.

Ali Akbar Khan – ‘Rag Zila Kafi’ (Lovers’ Melody). Although he came to prominence later than Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan is now believed to be the greatest sarod player of all time. The sarod is an Indian stringed instrument, smaller than the sitar, Ravi Shankar and George Harrison’s weapon of choice. The ‘Rag Zila Kafi’ is a good place to start for the burgeoning Indian Classical Music fan. The word ‘rag’ refers to the set of notes that will be used to play the melodies in the song. It is similar to our western conception of key, although there are hundreds, if not thousands of rags, and only 24 major/minor keys in western music theory. So the ‘Zila Kafi’ is a rag, and a rag traditionally connoting erotic love. The song features a blend of memorised melodies, and long passages of improvisation. Interestingly Miles Davis’s subgenre of Cool Jazz features a similar combination of freedom to improvise and set passages.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – ‘Sahib Teri Bandi’ and ‘Yeh Jo Halka Halka Suroor Hai.’ The music of Ali Akbar Khan anticipated a fascinating crossover between Indian and western music. Two long musical traditions that had only just been exposed to each other seemed to have something fundamental in common. Qawwali Music, a form of devotional music from Pakistan and the Punjab, became popular amongst American musicians in the 1980s and ‘90s in much the same way that Ravi Shankar had done a few decades before.

Performing live at Sin-é in 1993, Jeff Buckley mentioned the name Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – he called Nusrat “my Elvis… I know everything about him… I know what his childhood nickname was.” He then went on to play a cover of the song ‘Yeh Jo Halka Halka Suroor Hai.’ Listen to the original track by Khan, then to Buckley’s version. See how the long, ambling melodic lines lend themselves so perfectly to Buckley’s bluesy slide guitar. Buckley’s music also sought to make the voice more than just a vehicle for lyrics – he saw the voice as an instrument in its own right. This aspect of Buckley’s style also lends itself perfectly to interpreting Qawwali music, because whilst Indian Classical Music tends to focus on instrumentals (the sitar and sarod, for example) Qawwali music is often vocal. Even for an extraordinary singing talent like Jeff Buckley, Nusrat’s vocal lines push him to the limit.

Derek Trucks – is another interpreter of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s music. In 2006, the Derek Trucks Band released Songlines, a World Music record that features a cover of Nusrat’s ‘Sahib Teri Bandi.’ Whilst Jeff Buckley’s interpretation of Nusrat attempts to faithfully imitate his idol, Derek Trucks alters ‘Sahib Teri Bandi’ considerably. Nusrat’s slow, meditative song becomes up-tempo, slide guitar replaces voice as the lead instrument, and some sections of Trucks’ improvisation stray stylistically into blues slide guitar. So where Buckley imitates, Trucks incorporates. Ultimately, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan has the dominant influence in this performance, but he sits alongside Trucks’s other heroes – Elmore James, Etta James, Chaka Khan, B.B. King, etc. – all of whom can be heard in this song. A song that is panoramic in its vision of musical styles: drawing on many, falling perfectly into the category of none, reaching for some beautiful blend of all.

In defence of… Boybands

First off, I should probably say something about who I am. With both of my parents having trained as professional musicians, it means I have grown up with an appreciation for music of all genres. However, of all the great music that is out there, I chose to love boybands (among others of course). I love the cheese and I love the dance routines and when I’m in that mood (which I have to confess, is surprisingly often); nothing beats a good poppy love song.

Pavarotti didn’t write the operas and songs he sang; yet no one accused him of being talentless

The Oxford Dictionary defines “boyband” as “a pop group composed of attractive young men, whose music and image are designed to appeal to a young teenage audience”. Urban Dictionary on the other hand, described them as “a group of sissy boys who don’t play musical instruments and sing crappy love songs that they didn’t even write themselves”. Naturally, I agree with Oxford Dictionary’s definition more, although the definition from Urban Dictionary is an opinion many people share. When asking around as to who liked boybands, most (males in particular), were almost horrified that I would even ask them such a question, as though I’d asked them if they agree with slaughtering puppies. From this research, I collected a list of reasons why people said that they disliked boybands:

They have no talent, and don’t write their own songs.
The music they sing is not ~real music~.
They are bad role models to their fan-bases (who are usually tweens/teenagers).

Well, foremost: the music they produce is great music for its purpose, which is to be catchy and easy-to-remember for their target audience, which are mostly (pre-)teens. I do agree that a lot of the time the members don’t write their own music, however, this is true for many solo artists too. Does this really mean they are then not worthy of creating music? Pavarotti didn’t write the operas and songs he sang; yet no one accused him of being talentless. Even though Pavarotti’s performances were only meant for a two-hour opera, the rationale behind them were the same as most boyband songs, to capture your emotions and give you the #feels.

THE SAME COULD BE SAID FOR RAP MUSIC, AS THOUGH 2 CHAINZ TALKING ABOUT A WOMAN’S LARGE BEHIND HAS SOME SORT OF SOUL.

Saying that they don’t produce ~real music~, seems a bit pretentious in my opinion. Who decides what music is real or not? People connect to it; whether they connect to the people who are singing it or they actually connect to the lyrics, is that not what music is all about? Most people also think that what they sing about is very shallow, and hasn’t got the ‘soul’ or ‘true emotion’ that constitutes ‘real music’. The same could theoretically be said for some rap music, as though 2 Chainz talking about a woman’s large behind has some sort of soul. There is no difference. How is it that rap doesn’t have the same negative connotation when someone says they are a rap fan? (Disclaimer: I also happened to love rap). Moreover, no one seems to have a problem with calling him or herself a Beatles fan, yet they were arguably the first manufactured boyband out there.

I’m just suggesting we give them a break. We’re all human after all

I’m not blinded by my love for boybands; I understand that some of their music can seem soulless, I’m not suggesting that every word One Direction sings comes from the deepest places in their hearts. My point is… so what if it doesn’t? Like it or not, boybands are needed in the pop industry for their popularity and the mega-bucks they bring into it, (it’s called the music business for a reason). Which brings me onto the point about the members of boybands being bad role models. I understand that by being in a boyband, it attracts an audience who are mostly at an impressionable age, however what most people fail to realise is that the members of these boybands are also at a similar age when they start their careers (when formed, the Backstreet Boys were aged 15-22). None of them are forced into a career as a member of a boyband, but as teenagers can we really expect them to be the perfect role models? I’m not saying I agree with some things that they do, experimenting with drugs, and using racist and homophobic slurs for example, (*cough* One Direction *cough*), but I’m just suggesting we give them a break. We’re all human after all.

In conclusion, music is music. Fair enough if you don’t like it, but why hate? I’m not particularly a big fan of heavy metal music but I don’t automatically judge people who tell me they do like it, so why should it be different for boyband fans? Liking this music doesn’t make you a certain type of person, and each band shouldn’t be painted with the same brush. So hey, let’s all give boybands and their fans a break for once, and go pick on people your own age.

The DVD Library: It’s only rock ‘n’ roll

Music and film have gone hand in hand since, well, for a very long time. And that’s with good reason too! With their creativity, immersive qualities, and entertaining brilliance, here’s just a few of a very long list of rock ‘n’ roll films…

Almost Famous (2000)

Director Cameron Crowe

top-365-films-almost-famous - irishcinephile — ‘Hold me closer’… you know the words (irishcinephile)

You know when you have that essay due, that you keep putting off, and ignoring… well this film pretty much centres around that. But, importantly, with the slight differences of going on a rock tour, with a band, Kate Hudson, and having a whole lot of fun (an excuse for mitigation I am sure no one would refuse). Featuring a solid cast, and outfits to die for, you should definitely put this film on your must-see list. ****

Gimme Shelter (1970)

Director Albert and David Maysles, Charlotte Zwerin

current_162_104_large - criterion — The Stones at Altamont (criterion)

This film is brimming full with drama, glamour, and a few guys, you may have heard of – The Rolling Stones, anyone? Perfectly balancing the drama of the Altamont Concert of 1969 with the Stones’ incredible performances, spectacular outfits, and Mick Jagger’s infamous moves; this earns its title as one of the finest rock films. How can you refuse a date with these legendary rock ‘n’ rollers? *****

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

Director Richard Lester

a-hard-days-night - indiewire — ‘Run For Your Life’ (indiewire)

I’ll be clear from the start about this film: great soundtrack, terrible acting. But what else would you expect from the Fab Four? Following the Liverpudlian lads through a typical, fame-filled day, we get to see how much mischief they can get up to – not very much by our standards… But that’s not to say the film isn’t worth a watch – it’s perfect for anyone who’s ever fancied seeing John Lennon in a bath, or Ringo acknowledge the unavoidable situation that is his rather large nose. ***

The Last Waltz (1978)

Director Martin Scorsese

last_waltz -denofgeek — The Band say goodbye (denofgeek)

“This film should be played loud!” And with those opening lines, you should know what you’re in for. This film serves some of the greats from Bob Dylan to Van Morrison, pausing in between for Joni Mitchell, and, of course, not forgetting The Band. With this sort of film, you can simply sit back and appreciate the musical talent on offer, and, trust me, there’s a lot! A feast for all music lovers. ****

This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

Director Rob Reiner

Spinal-Tap-Photo_1200_798_81_s - birthmoviesdeath — ‘It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever’ (birthmoviesdeath)

This is hilarious. Playfully mocking any rock stars that have ever graced this planet, I promise you, this is great if you’re ever in need for some light-hearted fun. From the amps that go up to 11 (very loud) and the 18-inch Stonehenge stage props (yes, you read that correctly), it’s easy to see why this film has become an icon of comedy history. *****

The concept of a concept album

The concept album is one of the key stalwarts of 20th Century popular culture. It represents the height of the idea that rock and roll could become art, by allowing the songwriters to express their full artistic vision. The general definition of a concept album is “an album where all musical or lyrical ideas contribute to a single overall theme or unified story”, with the typical unified story becoming a ‘rock opera’.

However, whilst the concept album has become synonymous with rock music, the first concept album was released over a decade before rock and roll hit the mainstream. Woody Guthrie’s Dust Bowl Ballads was released in 1940, and the album consisted of songs written exclusively in a semi-autobiographical style about the hardship of American migrant labourers during the 1930s, alongside Merle Travis’s 1947 Folk Songs of the Hills.

The trend became more prevalent in the 1950s, with singers such as Frank Sinatra releasing albums based upon single themes, such as 1955’s ‘Come Fly With Me’ and ‘In the Wee Small Hours’. Nat King Cole and Johnny Cash also released several early concept albums, in order to stand out from the crowd.

“it was the late 1960s and early 1970s that brought the concept album to the forefront of popular music”

Nevertheless, it was the late 1960s and early 1970s that brought the concept album to the forefront of popular music. The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, although not a concept album itself, incorporated conceptual music within its experimental nature, thus encouraging a whole new generation to take up the challenge. Alongside this, the Moody Blues’ 1967 Days of Future Passed further cemented the concept album’s new ambitions.

However, perhaps the most notable concept albums were the rock operas. These albums combined complex stories with evocative imagery and perhaps the most challenging material written by the respective artists. The first album to fall under this title was perhaps Nirvana’s The Story of Simon Simopath, which was released in 1967. This was quickly followed by The Pretty Things’ S.F. Sorrow in 1968, and The Who’s Tommy, perhaps the most well-known rock opera to date, being released in 1969.

However, more was to come in the 1970s. During this decade, the Rock Opera saw arguably its finest moments, arriving in the style of The Who’s 1973 Quadrophoneia, and Genesis’ 1974 The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, an album that serves as such a mind-screw that entire websites have been created to work out what on earth was going on inside Peter Gabriel’s head.

Indeed, the concept album became almost a necessity of early 1970s rock artists. Everybody from David Bowie with his Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick, to Yes’ Tales from Topographic Oceans, were writing concept albums in order to fully express their musical scope. Unfortunately, however, it was not to last.

The birth of punk saw high conceptual material and instrumental noodling be confined to the backburner. The three-minute stabs at the establishment had no need for a continuing storyline or theme, and so, with the exception of Pink Floyd’s 1979 release The Wall, an album composed by a band who were, at the time, a bit like Lloyds Bank, and far too big to fail. However, a resurgence arrived in the mid 1980s through the rise of Neo-Progressive Rock and other forms of New Wave, with 1985s Misplaced Childhood by Marillion reaching No.1 on in the charts. Frank Zappa’s Joe’s Garage and Queensychre’s Operation: Mindcrime also became notorious examples of the trend.

Image Credit: Independent, Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A Butterful — Image Credit: Independent, Kendrick Lamar – To Pimp A Butterful

Throughout the 1990s, the concept album continued to remain a slight figure, occasionally appearing as the result of efforts by the more experimental, progressive and/or alternative rock bands, but it was rarely seen in volume. However, a revival began to occur in the early 2000s. Green Day’s American Idiot sold millions of copies worldwide, and, with the slow decline of album sales, artists are now looking for new ways of keeping the album alive, with many turning to making conceptual records. Indeed, 2015 has already seen a plethora of conceptual records put to vinyl, ranging from Steven Wilson’s acclaimed Hand. Cannot. Erase., to Public Service Broadcasting’s The Race for Space, to Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, to Muse’s lacklustre Drones.

Indeed, if the album wishes to survive, unity is perhaps the best place to start looking.

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Keith Richards and Sgt. Pepper’s “Lowly Art Fart” Band

[dropcap size=small bg_color=”#ffcb05″]E[/dropcap]veryone knows that the world’s most reliable source for current affairs is the Facebook newsfeed. So imagine my surprise, or more like terror and head-pounding disgust, when I saw “Sgt. Peppers: Keith Richards calls the Beatles album “rubbish”’ on the right-hand corner of my screen. Quickly darting to the Esquire interview in which trans-galactic musical atrocity was committed, I found the offending quotation from Richards himself:

“Meurgh gurgle jlewanjf dajfwpdmaj lkdflja, ya know?”

Roughly translated, Richards stated that “the  Beatles sounded great when they were the Beatles. But there’s not a lot of roots in that music. I think they got carried away. Why not? If you’re the Beatles in the ’60s, you just get carried away—you forget what it is you wanted to do. You’re starting to do Sgt. Pepper. Some people think it’s a genius album, but I think it’s a mishmash of rubbish.”

My initial reaction to these statements, I must admit, was a kind of primal disgust: “How dare he crap on an album that has shaped the musical landscape!” and “How dare he crap on the Beatles in general!” But then, I calmed down a bit.

Firstly, why should I be bothered by one guy’s opinion in general? I’ve been in plenty of conversations with plenty of people who claim that the Beatles are overrated. For the most part these musical debates have been very fruitful. I think a couple of things irked me beyond reason in Richards’ comments. Firstly, I just have a massive attachment to that album in particular. I am lucky enough to own a first-pressing copy of it, which was handed down to me from a relative. Secondly, I found that Richards’ comments had an interesting parallel with a number of debates going on (mainly on the Internet) in the world of music.

Recently, there seems to be another cycle in music surrounding the tension between progression and revivalism (arguably, this is a cycle that never ends in all art at any time). One particular part of Keith’s comments suggests that his opinion falls somewhere on the revivalist end of the spectrum: “…there’s not a lot of roots in that music.” On this point, perhaps he’s right to criticize. I mean not a lot of bands, other than the Beach Boys with Pet Sounds, within what we now see as the ‘sixties canon’ had done something as daring, conceptual and bold as the Beatles did with Sgt. Pepper’s. As a result of this, perhaps Sgt. Pepper’s was a rather bold red herring for the band to throw out there at the time and maybe it rubbed rock enthusiasts up the wrong way. You can’t really compare the Beatles earlier work to their later stuff in terms of aesthetics and sound.

I can see this point and, to be fair, it’s just his opinion (or preference). However, this opinion strikes me as not too dissimilar to another notorious incident that got a lot of buzz. Neil Lonsdale’s petition to cancel Kanye West’s performance, and thus prevent a “musical injustice”, was littered with debates surrounding what classifies as RAWK (or, pure ‘music’) and what doesn’t. Needless to say, Kanye’s “greatest living rockstar” comments during his performance didn’t help the RAWK flame die out, and Britpop ‘legend’ Liam Gallagher’s branding of Kanye as a “f****** idiot” only cemented this ongoing debacle.

The question seems to remain: what makes a real rockstar (other than cutting your hair and changing your name)? Now that the charts, and the underground, are dominated by electronic music, and hip-hop, and metal, and post-rock etc etc, do we need to redefine what we consider to be the ‘rock n’roll’ aesthetic?

v3kanyewest — Kanye “Rockstar” West: offensive or progressive? Image Credit: The Independent

Perhaps a rebrand isn’t entirely what is needed, and I can definitely see the benefits in having a solid grip on your roots. While I love progressive music, and Sgt. Pepper’s can be argued as one of the bedrocks of progressive music in the sixties, there is still an appeal in what people see as extremely ‘raw’ music. If I’m using the Beatles as an example, though I do believe that Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s are probably their masterpieces, my favourite album of theirs is actually Let it Be – an album very roughly recorded compared to their earlier work, which focuses heavily on standard rock instrumentation.

In these debates that litter social media, we need to start acknowledging the importance of both sides of the equation. We need to allow musicians to get “carried away” in order that the talented ones, like the Kanye Wests of the world, explore new dynamics and create progressive sounds. Sometimes progressive sounds come off as revolutionary and sometimes they come off as art farts. At the same time, acknowledging your musical influences and appreciating what really stimulates your creativity works as a catalyst, from which you can leap off. But, then again, artists working with familiar material must be wary in order not to sound irrelevant – have you heard Beady Eye?

By Oliver Thompson

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