EMILY DICKINSON, ROCK STAR

by Peter Gorman

It's rock and roll music, not rock and roll poetry, so why should anyone care about the lyrics? Possibly because without the lyrics it's not really rock and roll, it's something else, like classical or jazz or avant-garde noodling. An instrumental passage is fine, even expected, instrumental songs have their place on an album, but ultimately there had better be a singer somewhere ready to sing something about anything.

Fair enough, but the vocals are just another sound in the mix, elevated to a higher status than the drums if not the guitar. But is it really as simple as that? The lyrics can matter, the lyrics can set the tone for the whole song, establish a setting and smash it to pieces, make a good song transcendent, unforgettable. The lyrics can also turn a blissful flight into a train wreck. So the lyrics matter. But how much?

When the vocals are buried in the mix and the lyrics are unintelligible, it stands to reason that the lyrics are worthless. My Bloody Valentine may have written great lyrics on its classic album Loveless, but the listener will never know, and it may be just as well, since the lyrics could be insipid drivel. Then there's the case of a cover song burying lyrics that are known elsewhere, as in the case of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" - a clear and hard hitting rap about staying out of the military in Public Enemy's original version, which becomes an almost unintelligible lyric in Tricky's cover. In the original the lyrics matter very much, in the cover version hardly at all, or not at all considering that a woman is now singing a song about avoiding military service. Yet the lyrics are the same. What to make of this? I haven't the slightest. For the rest of this column the producer turned up the vocals, and the songwriter decided that the lyrics did matter. Sometimes. And so the songwriter scribbled away and came up with the following:

The Protest Song
Also known as the political song, it became a regular feature in rock when Dylan went electric in `65, even though he had at that time almost completely stopped writing protest songs. The folk crowd, which had sneered at rock up until then, began strumming electric guitars and ushered in an era of political awareness, though the general result ever since has too often been nothing more than Johnny singing the headlines. Agreed, deploring injustice is a good thing, except that it doesn't sound any less self-righteous or any more enlightening when accompanied by a back beat. Political songs also tend to get dated very fast, as should be expected since no one wants yesterday's papers. Rock critics tend to salute the political lyric, whether it's a good intentions give-peace-a-chance mantra or an issue-specific polemic. Time has shown that the best protest songs don't name names, like "London Calling," which rages against a city and a time and has resonated for years after, unlike "Janie Jones," since some of us (me) don't know who he (she) is (was), though the song still rocks mighty fine with the Clash in full swing (ah, so the lyrics really don't matter. Well ...). It's telling that one of the best political songs is by the Ramones, lyrical idiots and proud of it, who in 1984 tossed off "Howling at the Moon," in which they were frustrated at their inability to change the world and shouted out that they wanted to steal from the rich and give to the poor. And who doesn't? Get frustrated, I mean. Ultimately it's the old story, "What can a poor boy do, except sing in a rock and roll band?" Not much, apparently. Singing in a rock band is enough, and singing about almost anything is all right in my book, but when it comes to political songs you can count me out (in).

Minimal Realists
A rock critic favorite, many of whom will celebrate anyone who plays straightforward rock and eschews synthesizers, and who are equally affirming the tell-it-like-it-is lyric. Country music rarely allows any other kind of lyric except the vernacular kind, and not coincidentally country music and the minimalist realists first came to prominence in rock in 1968, courtesy of Dylan's John Wesley Harding album (rock was very much under the influence of Bob back in the 60s). Even though Dylan himself was hardly a minimalist or a realist, young stars like Robbie Robertson and John Fogerty took his lead and wrote songs for the common man in 4/4 time. Bruce Springsteen, after an early attempt to mimic the wild imagery Dylan, has remained loyal to the vernacular lyric for 20 years, with generally strong results. For example, when the common man goes off on a killing spree in Nebraska and gets the chair, it can be pretty interesting; when he's working his nine-to-five job and thinking about his next beer, less so. Simplicity has its virtues, but Hemingway became a boring old fart just like all the rest. One good thing though about the minimalist realist mode, even at its worst these words will never squash the music.

Poetry with a Capital P
Attempts at lyrical grandeur were inevitable in rock and roll, and yes it was probably brought about by that Bobby Dylan fellow. Poetry is generally frowned on by rock critics, and since Jim Morrison considered himself a poet that should tell you something right there about the dangers of falling under the poetic influence ("His brain is swirling like a toad," etc.). Even excellent lyricists like Joni Mitchell can stumble when reaching for the sublime, as she did in "The Judgment of the Moon and Stars," a song about Beethoven that is as ponderous as its title (Van Morrison paid homage to Rembrandt in song and failed even worse). Occasionally rock lyrics really are poetry, even good poetry, as Jimi Hendrix managed to prove on occasion, though my favorite lyric of his is the decidedly non-poetic "loneliness is such a drag." Perhaps the only true poet rock has ever had is Leonard Cohen, who actually was a poet before he was anything else. Cohen earns his poet status by writing lyrics that actually read well on paper (a quick sample from dozens of possibilities: "I said to Hank Williams: How lonely does it get?/Hank Williams hasn't answered yet/ But I hear him coughing all night long/A hundred floors above me in the Tower of Song"). But then again rock lyrics were never meant to be read on paper, rock lyrics were meant to be heard. So avoid the lyric sheet, and if you're a songwriter, be careful around Verlaine and Rimbaud.

Gobbledygook (And it Rhymes)
Rockers sometimes resort to nonsense lyrics as if to prove that lyrics really don't matter. "Progressive" rock bands of the 70s (yes, Genesis, far too many more) threw words around that usually made no sense at all, and sung their words with precious vocals surrounded by musical bombast. But even a well-respected 90s band like Pavement often dabbles in nonsense; sometimes it's painless, except when Malkmus sings a line such as "not a lot of room to grow inside this leather terrarium," and then some of us (me) just want to give him a good shake. Nonsense yes, but please, people, let's use words we can all understand. The ultimate nonsense song is probably Elton John's "Og Solar Ta Gng Stan Gir Nor" or something like that, a song of nothing but fake words set to melody, and an acknowledgement that his lyrics - actually Bernie Taupin's - were often forgettable, and "Og Solar Whatever" was no better or worse than his hits of that time. This is the rule of gobbledygook: the music is unaffected by the lyrics, neither helped nor hurt. It's lyric writing without risk. However, rabid fans will still manage to find their own meaning in the mire, and there's nothing you can do about it. Awopbopaloopbopawopbamboom. The walrus was Ed.

Street Poets
Rappers delight in depicting the urban life and landscape at its grittiest, and it works more often than not. It has to. In rap the lyrics are up front without a melody to hide behind. If you got nothing to say, you got to get out. The lyrics have to matter. Of course the lyrics aren't always good, sometimes the lyrics are horrid, but isn't that the way with everything? The good, the bad and the ugly, that's how it goes. But the lyrics matter in rap; there's no way around it. So the lyrics do matter, but only sometimes. And usually the lyrics are no more vital than the bass line.

And yet think of Ray Davies and the Kinks singing about beautiful loneliness in "Waterloo Sunset," think of Randy Newman taking the role of a slave trader in "Sail Away" and drowning the American dream in the ocean, think of Sly Stone nailing the finer points of a marriage break-up in "Family Affair," think of Lou Reed and the Velvets breaking hearts (yours) with "Pale Blue Eyes," think of Jarvis Cocker and Pulp singing the last word on class in "Common People," think of Johnny Rotten going under the Berlin Wall, think of the Mekons finding it hard to be human, think of LL Cool J knocking you out, think of Dylan songs and Cohen songs and Dylan songs again. Would any of these songs be as memorable if the lyrics didn't matter? The music comes first, but the lyrics can take the music to previously unattainable heights, and you won't need to read the lyric sheet to get there.

Tutti Frutti, oh Rudy. Oh yes, indeed.