Lightning Rod

Note:  This is an old post from an old blog of mine.

When I grew up, pretty much in the middle of nowhere, far from much of a music scene, too young to go to bars, the <span style="font-style: italic;">Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll </span>was my musical classroom.  My dad bought it for me for my eighth birthday, and because it had the odd boobie uncovered inside, he made me keep it at his office and not tell my mom about it.  He told me it was fine to read it, but not to get any ideas.

A couple of years later, I brought it home, and pretty much read it from cover to cover.  And I got lots of ideas. Truly, I probably read it <span style="font-style: italic;">too</span> much, not really understanding that there were wildly divergent views on the import of certain artists.  That book's views, to a great extent, became my emerging musical views.

The article on Rod Stewart, by noted music journalist Greil Marcus, begins with one of the more famous lines in rock criticism:

<span style="font-style: italic;">Rarely has a singer had as full and unique a talent as Rod Stewart; rarely has anyone betrayed his talent so completely.</span>

That said all that was needed to be said, didn't it? I literally didn't read on.

So I spent my formative years second only to Johnny Rotten in my disdain for Rod Stewart.  Until I heard <span style="font-style: italic;">Every Picture Tells a Story</span> and until I learned about The Faces (who were completely marginized in the good ol' <span style="font-style: italic;">Encyclopedia</span>, to its detriment).  And then I couldn't get enough of either: The Faces now to me embody the essence of why I like rock and roll, and Stewart's early solo work is some of my favorite music.

Stewart's first solo album, called in America simply <span style="font-style: italic;">The Rod Stewart Album</span>, plays like a series of short stories, all seemingly honest and intimate.  If Stewart's contributions to The Faces were the musical equivalent of the misdeeds and mistakes of a barroom braggard, Stewart's early solo records were the lamentations of the drunk at the end of the night willing to tell you the whole story.

That album, followed by <span style="font-style: italic;">Gasoline Alley</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Every Picture Tells a Story</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Never a Dull Moment</span>, showed an artist who had the pipes of a nicotine angel, a writer capable of incredible detail and depth, and an absolutely first-rate curator and interpreter of the work of others; try to listen to Dylan's own version of "Tomorrow Is A Long Time" after hearing Stewart's breathless, poignant take.  Moreso, try to let Elvis reclaim "That's All Right"; Stewart's work was every bit as good, if not better, than the masters of the realm.

And then he lost it.  Completely.  No artist has managed to so utterly divorce himself from his greatness.  His appearance on <span style="font-style: italic;">American Idol</span> showed him unable to carry a tune and trucking only in musical cliches. His recent work suggests that he has completely abandoned the entire world except for a certain section of menopausal women who will forever carry his torch and buy anything, no matter how trite, as long as his picture is on it.

This is all old news, but I have been amazed at the number of Rod Stewart discussions on Facebook and in cyberspace (see Toby Weiss' <a href="http://tobymelt.blogspot.com/2005/09/dya-think-im-sexy.html">great piece on the "D'Ya Think I'm Sexy" sessions</a>).  They always start the same way, with praise for the early years, and they end the same way, slagging what he later became. It is as if we all take his defection personally.

But why?  Why do we continue to publicly disown Rod when most if not all of his peers have become paunchy and musically flabby?  I think it comes down to two reasons:

First, the early Rod Stewart output is flawless and timeless.  It has aged better than many of the well-received albums of the time.  It doesn't rely on studio trickery or musical novelty; it relies on wit, wisdom and emotion, on good taste and the intangibles of a great rock and roll band.  It's music that sticks with you, which is a wonderful thing for an artist -- unless you decide to abandon the ship.

Second, it's what Rod left us for.  He didn't leave us for madness, he wasn't from another age and unable to adapt.  Rod left us for a better-looking but ultimately vacuous woman.  And, frankly, he's never really acted like he regretted the choice.  He traded a forty for two twenties, and continues to do so.

I find this all interesting because there is such an assumption on the part of music fans that Rod Stewart somehow owed us a duty to be great, in the same way that we might look at Dolly Parton or James Taylor or Paul McCartney and feel that they similarly fell short after showing us their brilliance.  But that's <span style="font-style: italic;">our </span>standard, not theirs.  Why do we assume that we know what is best for him?

In referring to his soccer-playing days, Stewart had a telling and truthful quote about why he didn't make it as a pro: "I had the skill but not the enthusiasm." The same could seem to be said about Stewart's musical career. And it's his utter indifference to what we care about that makes him so maddening.

I remember Rick Rubin's quote about why he went after Johnny Cash to produce.  He said he was looking for great artists who weren't making great records.  I wish we could get Rubin to take on Stewart as his next project, but, sadly, I'm not sure Rod would even care. Frankly, I wish I didn't either.