#51 - There Ought to Be a Law

There Ought to Be a Law

1/1/05 (#51)

As the father of a two-year old daughter, I have a great interest in what kind of world she grows up in. This election season galvanized my concerns---our culture is at precarious moment in its history, yet throughout the entire campaign, all I heard from the candidates was lip service on fringe issues like terrorism, unemployment, and how the rest of the world can be leveraged for our own purposes. All supposedly important items, but things I could not concentrate on because my mind is focused on a much more serious issue:

Stopping the insidious sprawl of Rod Stewart's so-called career.

Don't get me wrong, the man had his day, and for most artists, successes like the wonderful Every Picture Tells a Story and his non-eponymous work with the Small Faces would absolve them of later-years transgressions. But in Stewart's case, the transgressions grow exponentially with each new release, and even Every Picture Tells a Story lacks the strength to shoulder the decades-worth of sonic detritus that has been so carelessly rested upon it.

Frankly, I am surprised that this has not been addressed previously. Didn't Congress meet to discuss the option of cutting off trade with Great Britain when "Do ya think I'm sexy?" was released? (I envision a younger Strom Thurmond, who in 1978 was a sprightly 106, yelling, "Allow me to read from the lyric sheet---'his heart is beating like a drum'. Can a heart not beat like anything except a drum? Is there no other semi-rhythmic source of sound to which a heart can be compared? Does this ridiculously pedestrian cliche add anything to the song other than a tenuously implied rhyme between 'drum' and 'home'?" With each question, he pounds his fist on the lectern in a semi-rhythmic manner that would lead a junior Senator to scribble, "his heart beating like a Strom?" on a note that quickly made the rounds in the rotunda.) Was there no Independent Counsel appointed to investigate the inexplicably dorky title and abhorrent cover art of his 1983 album, Body Wishes? (The cover art looks like it was created for a contest: "Who can make the lamest album cover?!" Stewart clearly chose the winner.)

But that was 1983. Those were dark days for all of us, busy as we were creating the kitschy, lame-ass crap that would become fodder for several seasons of I love the 80s, so I will pardon him for that egregious visual and sonic litter he called an album. Of course, I can pardon him for a thousand faults (and he has that many), because no matter how forgiving we are for the vinyl that was wasted pressing Rod Stewart albums in the 80's and 90's, his fate is sealed with the recent release of Stardust: The Great American Songbook, Volume III.

For those unaware of the series, the American Songbook albums are a growing collection of releases featuring Stewart's aging, smoke-bleached voice struggling to reach the notes on a variety of essential standards. (Listening to Rod try to nail a high note is comedy on a par with watching Gary Coleman seriously attempt a slam dunk on the basketball court.) I am guessing that it's the songs themselves that are propelling the sales on these albums: a good song shines in any format, whether sung acapella with a strummed acoustic guitar or fattened like veal with the most schmaltzy of "orchestral" arrangements. The success of the series supports this claim---this set of classics would have sold with anyone's half-recognizable name emblazoned on the cover. (In fact, I have wondered if proving that assertion to be true may have been the Trading-Places-inspired impetus for the record company signing Stewart to do the vocals.)

For instance: Louis Armstrong gave us the quintessential presentation of "What a Wonderful World", infusing a world-weary charm to the hopeful sentiment of the song. Stewart's version, delivered with his signature toneless alto, struggles momentarily to carry the weight of Armstrong's legend, but collapses like JJ Walker would when asked by Atlas, "Hey, can you hold this for a minute?" Perhaps the problem is simply that Armstrong made that song great by steeping it with a far-reaching optimism, a gorgeous melody to remind us not to overlook the good in our world. Stewart, intent on bolstering his ridiculous image as a "romantic crooner", seems determined to redefine this classic melody as a mere love song. (I am reminded of an old joke: "Last night at the Met, Bernstein played Beethoven. Beethoven lost.")

For instance: The Gershwin brothers gave us the clever, playful "S'wonderful". Surely George and Ira qualify as national treasures, and as such, isn't their output protected from hackneyed, histrionic-filled renditions of their masterpieces? Doesn't the Patriot Act, with so many vaguely-defined tentacles, have enough reach to stop "S'wonderful" from becoming fodder for a Stewart-sung breakfast cereal commercial? (I picture Rod in a barely-cinched velvet bathrobe and freshly-coifed blonde perm-over, singing the song to a bowl of nutty-flavored corn flakes.) Sadly, it seems the answer is no.

I can forgive a fading celebrity relying on wholesale re-packaging in order to bolster sales. (Tom Jones.) I can even understand a fading celebrity continuing to cling to a self-image that is anachronistic to his current status. (Mick Jagger.) But look at the ridiculous cover of Stardust---what the hell were they thinking? This looks like a parody of a post-middle-aged lothario's efforts to sell himself as viable sexual currency by virtue of a smug "of-course-I'm-having-sex" smile, except the model doesn't know it's a parody.

Remember those children's games that feature a drawing with obvious errors, requiring the viewer to go through and identify all that is wrong with the picture? Let's play that with this album cover:

1. That jacket. Is it an attempt to subliminally imply, "I'm a wild animal"? If so, shouldn't he have worn a leopard print (the cool, carnivorous hunter) rather than a zebra (a nervous herbivore who passes his days waiting to be devoured by a leopard)?

2. The shoe. What exactly does the photographer want us to believe? Is this post-coitus, and Stewart is keeping a souvenir? Is it pre-coitus, and we are to assume that it is impossible not to catch Rod in some stage of a sex act, and at least this one was before he took off his jacket? "Darling, wait," he hushed as the camera drew near. "I need to take care of one thing first---how's my hair?"

3. The woman. I am assuming that it's a women, based on the available evidence, though I have serious concerns about an artist who seems to say, "Women are sexy. Well, not the top parts, where they talk from, but the lower parts are sexy."

I would offer an opinion of what the symbolism means---does he want his female listeners to imagine him as a sexual creature, but not ruin their fantasy by depicting a complete woman? Is he subconsciously coming out of the closet with a shoe fetish?---but I have no idea. I can imagine no plausible explanation for this album cover that does not begin with, "First, that line on my resume that listed previous experience in graphic design? That may have been misleading..."

Yet despite the tasteless cover accompanying the annoying-neighbor-in-the-shower vocals, this album was #1 on the Billboard charts one week before the election. Is that the America we want for ourselves? Is that the America we want to leave for our children? I know I don't. So for the Democratic leadership that might be reading, let me end with this crucial recap of the election results:

Not once in 2004 did John Kerry speak out against Rod Stewart.
John Kerry lost the election.

Hopefully that's clear enough for 2008?

©2005 wpreagan