2019AB?
Or, how David Bowie may be the last star to shine so brightly in rock’s dying galaxy
- an opinion piece by Adam Norsworthy & Ross Muir.
Or, how David Bowie may be the last star to shine so brightly in rock’s dying galaxy
- an opinion piece by Adam Norsworthy & Ross Muir.
The death of Davie Bowie in January 2016 genuinely and deeply touched millions of rock fans across the world.
Those who had grown up with his music, been turned on to it or discovered it anew through modern streaming services recognised this wasn’t the passing of just another rock star.
Bowie was idolised, admired and worshipped through all of pop music’s changing faces, held up as an icon by glam rocker and punk, new romantic and Brit-popper.
His credentials read more like the list of talents of a renaissance man than a mere rock star: singer, songwriter, musician, actor, style icon and many more.
Some three years on it is becoming more apparent that the death of David Bowie in 2016, an Annus Horribilis for iconic rock and pop passings (Bowie, Glen Frey, Prince, George Martin, Leonard Cohen, George Michael) can serve as some sort of marker in time… Bowie’s glowing career casting a hazy translucent light of radiant rock-star-ness on everything around or associated with it.
To wit, we now live in 2019AB – After Bowie – a modern musical dark ages where we can only dream of classic rock and creative pop stars such as Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Prince, Michael Jackson and their like.
That David Bowie’s album Blackstar was such a beautifully creative expression of mortality, only highlighted further that we will probably never see his like again.
An artist, whose medium happened to be music, but more than that – a ROCK STAR in big, bold capital letters and one brave enough to turn their own death into an artistic statement musically, and in imagery (changes to the album cover as seen under different light sources; the Starman’s last gift) that meant so much more than global chart successes, Rolling Stone reviews and MTV videos.
Within minutes the social media (that Bowie was smart enough to embrace so early on) was ablaze with tributes, glowing epitaphs and commentaries mourning the passing of a legend.
If a young teenager had no idea who David Bowie was before, they did now.
Now many rock and pop stars are more interested in their next social media post response or licensing deal than they are in creating the right headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Drive a Rolls Royce into a swimming pool? The insurance in the 360-degree contract (that means a slice of your entire pie for the record company, folks) won’t be letting that happen.
If you are from The Golden Age of Rock ‘N’ Roll (although not necessarily as old as the remarkable Ian Hunter, the last of the now not so young dudes), would you know the name of the man behind Tame Impala, or the lead singer from Imagine Dragons?
Probably not, although I’m sure many a younger music listener would; said listener might even be among the dozen 11 to 14 year old kids who undertook a recent survey to see if they could name a Beatle… not one of them could.
If thinking about that for a minute doesn’t make you slightly uncomfortable, then this article isn’t for you.
But it does reinforce why a young band such as Greta Van Fleet (genuinely talented but so influenced by Led Zeppelin musically, vocally and in attire as to be a self-penned material pastiche) are being championed as the next big thing by the younger rock fan generation (but not exclusively; many rock fans "of an age" are still looking for, or perhaps need, a new Zeppelin).
Those who had grown up with his music, been turned on to it or discovered it anew through modern streaming services recognised this wasn’t the passing of just another rock star.
Bowie was idolised, admired and worshipped through all of pop music’s changing faces, held up as an icon by glam rocker and punk, new romantic and Brit-popper.
His credentials read more like the list of talents of a renaissance man than a mere rock star: singer, songwriter, musician, actor, style icon and many more.
Some three years on it is becoming more apparent that the death of David Bowie in 2016, an Annus Horribilis for iconic rock and pop passings (Bowie, Glen Frey, Prince, George Martin, Leonard Cohen, George Michael) can serve as some sort of marker in time… Bowie’s glowing career casting a hazy translucent light of radiant rock-star-ness on everything around or associated with it.
To wit, we now live in 2019AB – After Bowie – a modern musical dark ages where we can only dream of classic rock and creative pop stars such as Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Prince, Michael Jackson and their like.
That David Bowie’s album Blackstar was such a beautifully creative expression of mortality, only highlighted further that we will probably never see his like again.
An artist, whose medium happened to be music, but more than that – a ROCK STAR in big, bold capital letters and one brave enough to turn their own death into an artistic statement musically, and in imagery (changes to the album cover as seen under different light sources; the Starman’s last gift) that meant so much more than global chart successes, Rolling Stone reviews and MTV videos.
Within minutes the social media (that Bowie was smart enough to embrace so early on) was ablaze with tributes, glowing epitaphs and commentaries mourning the passing of a legend.
If a young teenager had no idea who David Bowie was before, they did now.
Now many rock and pop stars are more interested in their next social media post response or licensing deal than they are in creating the right headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Drive a Rolls Royce into a swimming pool? The insurance in the 360-degree contract (that means a slice of your entire pie for the record company, folks) won’t be letting that happen.
If you are from The Golden Age of Rock ‘N’ Roll (although not necessarily as old as the remarkable Ian Hunter, the last of the now not so young dudes), would you know the name of the man behind Tame Impala, or the lead singer from Imagine Dragons?
Probably not, although I’m sure many a younger music listener would; said listener might even be among the dozen 11 to 14 year old kids who undertook a recent survey to see if they could name a Beatle… not one of them could.
If thinking about that for a minute doesn’t make you slightly uncomfortable, then this article isn’t for you.
But it does reinforce why a young band such as Greta Van Fleet (genuinely talented but so influenced by Led Zeppelin musically, vocally and in attire as to be a self-penned material pastiche) are being championed as the next big thing by the younger rock fan generation (but not exclusively; many rock fans "of an age" are still looking for, or perhaps need, a new Zeppelin).
Greta Van Fleet, Poster Boys for the new rock star model, or no more than a Led Pastiche?
But it shouldn’t ever be about pastiche, sound-a-likes, or rock 'n' roll facsimile.
Rock music has always been most exciting when it has been the soundtrack to change, part of a movement or had a pivotal moment to align or alight with – fifties rock and roll, Bill Haley and Elvis Presley... sixties pop culture and Vietnam... civil rights and punk... post-punk electro rock... a New Wave of romantics and Brit pop’s later Ladd-ism... melodic rock that owned the US airwaves before it was put under by the smell of teen spirit and grunge.
These cultural shifts are all defined by songs and bands that indelibly and seemingly magically evoke events in our youth.
Now, in times of turmoil and global friction, where are the bands leading the charge and the rallying cry?
It seems that soap box has been taken over by rappers, "YouTube artists" and Reality TV stars, leaving hoary old rock bands who still want to make ‘statements’ looking horrendously out of time and place.
Certainly a few are still standing… Dylan and Springsteen immediately come to mind but the Nobel Bob was always more folk hero and musical poet laureate than rock star while The Boss is as much Heartland USA as he is rock and roll.
There was certainly rock star quality and an aura of rock and roll grandeur with Elton John but old Reggie is now such a parody of himself that if he entered an Elton John impersonation contest it's doubtful he’d make Top Five.
The Rocket Man’s piano-songster buddy across the pond, Billy Joel, once giant of singer-songwriter rock and pop, now flits between retirement and Greatest Hits sing-a-longs at his second home, Madison Square Garden.
There are other names that can be bandied about of course, including Rod, Macca and Ozzy (whose stardom is such you need only mention them by first name or nickname), but the paucity of freshly-blooded rock star meat is becoming conspicuous as the decades relentlessly grind forward.
The lack of new rock stars, in the classic sense of the word, can be blamed partly on music’s value to the younger market these days.
In this digital age, where almost any piece of music can be streamed for free, it is hard to convey to youth just how important and valuable music, and records were to the older generations.
Music more than ever has been dumbed down to a commodity, a fast-food manufactured pop plastic that pollutes the airwaves, with the wheels of a profiteering industry running roughshod over artistic creativity.
The X Factor and The Voice convince the modern consumer that a song isn’t big or impressive enough without a key change or some hapless patsy who has been "on a journey" warbling their overly self-confident way through it.
Rock music has always been most exciting when it has been the soundtrack to change, part of a movement or had a pivotal moment to align or alight with – fifties rock and roll, Bill Haley and Elvis Presley... sixties pop culture and Vietnam... civil rights and punk... post-punk electro rock... a New Wave of romantics and Brit pop’s later Ladd-ism... melodic rock that owned the US airwaves before it was put under by the smell of teen spirit and grunge.
These cultural shifts are all defined by songs and bands that indelibly and seemingly magically evoke events in our youth.
Now, in times of turmoil and global friction, where are the bands leading the charge and the rallying cry?
It seems that soap box has been taken over by rappers, "YouTube artists" and Reality TV stars, leaving hoary old rock bands who still want to make ‘statements’ looking horrendously out of time and place.
Certainly a few are still standing… Dylan and Springsteen immediately come to mind but the Nobel Bob was always more folk hero and musical poet laureate than rock star while The Boss is as much Heartland USA as he is rock and roll.
There was certainly rock star quality and an aura of rock and roll grandeur with Elton John but old Reggie is now such a parody of himself that if he entered an Elton John impersonation contest it's doubtful he’d make Top Five.
The Rocket Man’s piano-songster buddy across the pond, Billy Joel, once giant of singer-songwriter rock and pop, now flits between retirement and Greatest Hits sing-a-longs at his second home, Madison Square Garden.
There are other names that can be bandied about of course, including Rod, Macca and Ozzy (whose stardom is such you need only mention them by first name or nickname), but the paucity of freshly-blooded rock star meat is becoming conspicuous as the decades relentlessly grind forward.
The lack of new rock stars, in the classic sense of the word, can be blamed partly on music’s value to the younger market these days.
In this digital age, where almost any piece of music can be streamed for free, it is hard to convey to youth just how important and valuable music, and records were to the older generations.
Music more than ever has been dumbed down to a commodity, a fast-food manufactured pop plastic that pollutes the airwaves, with the wheels of a profiteering industry running roughshod over artistic creativity.
The X Factor and The Voice convince the modern consumer that a song isn’t big or impressive enough without a key change or some hapless patsy who has been "on a journey" warbling their overly self-confident way through it.
From The Old Grey Whistle Test to The X Factor; from Musical Creativity to Manufactured Commodity
The window of exposure for today's great music (which unquestionably exists; there isn’t a month goes by where FabricationsHQ isn’t championing, previewing or featuring a talented new act or artist) is, in some ways, narrower than ever.
Radio Playlists are tightly controlled and only Later... with Jools Holland champions both new and classic music on mainstream TV.
That there is no place for Top of The Pops (though, tellingly there is for its retro twin Top of The Pops 2) is the biggest clue of all as to where music is on the list of young priorities.
Rock stars have been replaced by footballers in the gallery of today’s influential icons, financially as well as culturally; this is where the money goes now.
Today’s water cooler get-togethers rarely include a musical "wow" moment, like The Sensational Alex Harvey Band’s legendary 'Delilah' theatrics as seen on The Old Grey Whistle Test, Morrissey dancing with flowers, Boy George’s first gender-twisting debut or David Bowie performing 'Starman' on Top of the Pops in the company of Mick Ronson (a true guitar star and another lost too soon, only a year after he had, somewhat fittingly, performed 'Heroes' with Bowie at the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert).
That U2, "the world’s biggest band" set an example to everyone of music’s current value in society by just dropping their Songs Of Innocence album on to people’s iPhones for free, was surely one of the most arrogant missteps in rock’s history.
The message it sent out, devaluing something once so priceless to us, was heinous – "This is music, you don’t need to pay for it. You don’t even have to go and look for it."
Now there’s no journey to go looking, no discovery and no reward.
Many of us spent hours scouring old record shops with our hard-earned fiver, deciding all day which album to buy before rushing home to play it, cherishing it, listening over and over again, even making ourselves like the tracks we didn’t really.
Now kids race home to play Grand Theft Auto, a game that in its last incarnation made more than $800 million in worldwide revenue in 24 hours… a return even the biggest bands in the world will be lucky to achieve in a career.
For classic rock there is though light on the horizon.
Salvation has partly come in the unlikely form of bearded hipsters, who have spearheaded the welcome return of vinyl to some the world’s living rooms and teen bedrooms.
Some music-loving youngsters have been asking for turntables for Christmas and Birthday presents, and, keen to explore exotic names like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin (the latter part curiosity to hear where Greta Van Fleet got their sound from), have been slowly adding re-released vinyl to their small but potent collections of heritage rock.
After years of record companies frantically trying to decide for us which format we should consume, we are quickly heading towards a stable two-format music world, where everyone is comfortable streaming new tracks, throwaway pop and dance, for free.
But where many recognise the artistic and aesthetic value of the classic rock and pop heard in Marvel films and on TV adverts, names like Dylan, Queen and Bowie have reverberated through to the digital age and many appreciate that vinyl is the best way to enjoy their music.
With the ceremony of vinyl, the aesthetic cover artwork and the headphone-less space and time to sit and talk about the album and the lyrics with friends over a joint or a beer, it’s once again a chance to get inside the artist and their music in a way streaming simply doesn’t offer.
Radio Playlists are tightly controlled and only Later... with Jools Holland champions both new and classic music on mainstream TV.
That there is no place for Top of The Pops (though, tellingly there is for its retro twin Top of The Pops 2) is the biggest clue of all as to where music is on the list of young priorities.
Rock stars have been replaced by footballers in the gallery of today’s influential icons, financially as well as culturally; this is where the money goes now.
Today’s water cooler get-togethers rarely include a musical "wow" moment, like The Sensational Alex Harvey Band’s legendary 'Delilah' theatrics as seen on The Old Grey Whistle Test, Morrissey dancing with flowers, Boy George’s first gender-twisting debut or David Bowie performing 'Starman' on Top of the Pops in the company of Mick Ronson (a true guitar star and another lost too soon, only a year after he had, somewhat fittingly, performed 'Heroes' with Bowie at the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert).
That U2, "the world’s biggest band" set an example to everyone of music’s current value in society by just dropping their Songs Of Innocence album on to people’s iPhones for free, was surely one of the most arrogant missteps in rock’s history.
The message it sent out, devaluing something once so priceless to us, was heinous – "This is music, you don’t need to pay for it. You don’t even have to go and look for it."
Now there’s no journey to go looking, no discovery and no reward.
Many of us spent hours scouring old record shops with our hard-earned fiver, deciding all day which album to buy before rushing home to play it, cherishing it, listening over and over again, even making ourselves like the tracks we didn’t really.
Now kids race home to play Grand Theft Auto, a game that in its last incarnation made more than $800 million in worldwide revenue in 24 hours… a return even the biggest bands in the world will be lucky to achieve in a career.
For classic rock there is though light on the horizon.
Salvation has partly come in the unlikely form of bearded hipsters, who have spearheaded the welcome return of vinyl to some the world’s living rooms and teen bedrooms.
Some music-loving youngsters have been asking for turntables for Christmas and Birthday presents, and, keen to explore exotic names like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin (the latter part curiosity to hear where Greta Van Fleet got their sound from), have been slowly adding re-released vinyl to their small but potent collections of heritage rock.
After years of record companies frantically trying to decide for us which format we should consume, we are quickly heading towards a stable two-format music world, where everyone is comfortable streaming new tracks, throwaway pop and dance, for free.
But where many recognise the artistic and aesthetic value of the classic rock and pop heard in Marvel films and on TV adverts, names like Dylan, Queen and Bowie have reverberated through to the digital age and many appreciate that vinyl is the best way to enjoy their music.
With the ceremony of vinyl, the aesthetic cover artwork and the headphone-less space and time to sit and talk about the album and the lyrics with friends over a joint or a beer, it’s once again a chance to get inside the artist and their music in a way streaming simply doesn’t offer.
With the interest and resurgence in "the ceremony of vinyl" record shops the world over are popping up to do
business with the old and new generations (pictured : Sweet Memories Records, Portsmouth)
The resurgence in record listening is also an opportunity for friends and music fans to regale each other with legendary stories handed down from parents and grandparents, or as read in the pages of Mojo and Classic Rock; stories of rock stars from a bygone age throwing TVs out of windows, ‘redecorating’ hotel rooms and hosting album launch parties with dwarves serving cocaine.
It is this back story to rock music – the hinterland – that the consumption of vinyl encourages us to mull over and discuss, often in a dopey fug.
Like the great warriors spoken of in hushed tones around medieval campfires (not Ed Sheeran’s camp fire sing-song cameo in Game of Thrones), those rock stars’ light shines ever brighter as their lives and greatness becomes more exaggerated and celebrated with every revolution of the record.
For great new music, one must put on the hiking boots and head out into the unknown digital world still so
unfamiliar to many of our generation.
To pontificate that good new music isn’t being made is patently ignorant and absurd – it’s everywhere, but it tends to get hidden online, buried under thousands of sponsored playlists selling the same old crap.
Does it mean as much to kids today as it did to us? Of course. But perhaps to not quite so many of them.
So music is alive, but is rock itself dead?
Hardly, but perhaps it can be seen more as dormant, just waiting for that moment when a band or artist with the right blend of talent, temerity and timing lifts their head above the pop parapet and screams at the world: "I am a golden God! I am a Rock Star!"
Only then might older music lovers like us once again follow a new band down into the fertile wastelands of guitar-driven music that reflects the tumultuous age we live in.
Heroes once again, even if just for one day (or rather night).
As long as there’s seating mind. And we can be home in time for Graham Norton.
Adam Norsworthy & Ross Muir
May 2019AB
It is this back story to rock music – the hinterland – that the consumption of vinyl encourages us to mull over and discuss, often in a dopey fug.
Like the great warriors spoken of in hushed tones around medieval campfires (not Ed Sheeran’s camp fire sing-song cameo in Game of Thrones), those rock stars’ light shines ever brighter as their lives and greatness becomes more exaggerated and celebrated with every revolution of the record.
For great new music, one must put on the hiking boots and head out into the unknown digital world still so
unfamiliar to many of our generation.
To pontificate that good new music isn’t being made is patently ignorant and absurd – it’s everywhere, but it tends to get hidden online, buried under thousands of sponsored playlists selling the same old crap.
Does it mean as much to kids today as it did to us? Of course. But perhaps to not quite so many of them.
So music is alive, but is rock itself dead?
Hardly, but perhaps it can be seen more as dormant, just waiting for that moment when a band or artist with the right blend of talent, temerity and timing lifts their head above the pop parapet and screams at the world: "I am a golden God! I am a Rock Star!"
Only then might older music lovers like us once again follow a new band down into the fertile wastelands of guitar-driven music that reflects the tumultuous age we live in.
Heroes once again, even if just for one day (or rather night).
As long as there’s seating mind. And we can be home in time for Graham Norton.
Adam Norsworthy & Ross Muir
May 2019AB
Adam Norsworthy is front man and main songwriter of crossover/ multi-faceted blues band The Mustangs.
He is also a singer-songwriter solo artist (Rainbird, 2016; Circus Moon, 2018) and part of good-time R&B quartet, The Milkmen.
Sweet Memories record shop photo credit: https://www.vinylrecords.co.uk/