Let’s do a musical leap frog from the aforementioned gentlemen in the title of this treatise to Cole Porter and George Gershwin. It’s only a short hop from Rogers and Hammerstein to Simon and Garfunkel, until we reach February 3, 1959; “The Day the Music Died”. An entire genre of Symphony, Opera, Jazz/Blues, Pop, and Folk music and musicians has indeed, metaphorically, passed away, R.I.P.. Loyal fans still met after dark, in small groups to seek out the small supper clubs, bistros, and jazz joints, where the traditions of great music are still alive and flourishing. After American Pie, someone turned the volume up, waaay up, and introduced speakers capable of broadcasting noise/music, as far as the Rings of Saturn. That was the beginning of the end.
Garage bands popped up like mushrooms all over America; the innocent populace likened them to a plague of locusts! Totally disgracing the label of musicians, these exhibitionist noisemakers, proceeded with a campaign to deafen every man, woman, and child in the great U.S. of A. There was a religious group called “Black Sabbath”; their stated mission, and the reason for their high admission fees, was to continue God’s work. (God played lead guitar) The band’s latest CDs replaced the hymnals, and the congregation was encouraged to, “keep the faith baby”.
Whenever “Lynyrd Skynyrd” played a concert, the volume and pitch of the music/noise caused hunting dogs to put their noses to the ground. Hundreds of missing children, runaway wives, and heroin stashes were located with amazing ease! (This method certainly beat, “Hey Lassie, Timmy’s in the well again!”) These five performers were dropout taxidermists, who had failed the slice and stuff phase of the application to create lifelike wolves and bears for the museum industry. Lynyrd, plucked them from dicing carrots in a soup kitchen and led them to his garage, where for weeks they were instructed in the use of the Volume Control Button. In a recent Battle of the Bands contest, the main competition was a group called:
“Richard Nixon and His Cabinet”. Eight young men who were champion debaters at San Clemente High School, who also excelled in sucking up in order to advance their goal of playing in a rock band. Richard, unshaven with beady eyes, attempted to book his band at political venues, where crowds of young Republicans, dressed in suits and wearing tassel loafers, could hear the smash hit, “Tricky Dickie”. An opposing band, “Jack and the Camelot’s”, challenged Richard’s use of tape recorders that referred to the Watercress Hotel, and a few of the President’s plumbers! Needless to say, the Nixon band broke up after its first concert. The only statement made by Richard was “You won’t have me to kick around anymore”! At that moment the crowds stopped kicking him, allowed him to board his plane, at which point he turned and gave the one finger salute to his loyal fans.
In October ‘93, a Tijuana fast food joint closed its doors forever. Its demise was rumored to be because of tough tamales, and tepid tacos. Not true. Like the Phoenix rising from the desert; The Restaurant ruins yielded Six Latinos, who would become known as “The Red Hot Chili Peppers”! Their sound was similar to a mariachi band with the volume turned up to 260 decibels! Their manager, Poncho Villa, filled the arenas with promotions, such as, free poncho night, and buy one, get one free sombreros.
We have now come full circle; there are hundreds more bands out there, but there is still one amazing curiosity: they all sound alike!! They are all more than capable of producing loud, shrill, and obnoxious noise! They try to separate themselves with pyrotechnics, outlandish costumes, and half-price hearing aids. The current American audience, in the belief that there is nothing else to listen to, stands in line, allows the assault on their ears, and smiles, saying to themselves, “I’m having a wonderful time!”
I could continue reporting on this cavalcade of music but alas, my spleen has split, the gall in my bladder has exceeded capacity, and my eyes have begun to bleed. Come on people! Let’s all sing together a chorus of, “Home on the Range”.
Omitted by design, a band called Papa Roach
Where’s that guy that smashes watermelons?