Posts Tagged ‘popular music’
“I think that the audience intuitively understands the idea of sampling and remixing stories”*…
Comedy songs and musical parodies have been around for ages. But the novelty song– a performance rooted in a gimmick– dates from the 1920s. Dickie Goodman was a master of that arcane form, one whose gimmick presaged the popular music era in which we live…
On November 6th, 1989, a guy named Dickie Goodman died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Ironically, this sad act marked the end for the creator of a specific kind of novelty record known as the “break-in.” Seen nowadays as a (dubious) precursor to sampling [see here], a “break-in” record is created by using clips of other songs to tell a story or perform a skit, usually with narration of some sort.
The written word cannot even begin to do the art form justice — and yes, it is an art form — so here’s an audio example by the king himself, Dickie Goodman. “Mr. Jaws” was a satire of the movie blockbuster Jaws, and was a Top 10 hit in the latter part of 1975.
… Jump back to 1956. Rock ‘n’ roll music is starting to really break through to the masses. The charts are full of records by Elvis, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and countless others. In the middle of 1956, two struggling songwriters named Bill Buchanan and Dickie Goodman created something that would finally put them on the map… but not as songwriters.
They decided to create a novelty record by writing a fake newscast about an alien invasion from outer space, but while they would ask the questions, the answers would be provided by musical snippets from popular records of the day. After a lot of shopping around and rejections, they finally created their own label and released “The Flying Saucer.”
Surprisingly, the record was a big hit, making it all the way to #3 on the Billboard chart and hitting the top of the charts in some local markets. Unsurprisingly, there were numerous lawsuits once the record became a hit. Most of the record labels that had a sample on “The Flying Saucer” sued Buchanan and Goodman for copyright infringement. The whole legal morass that followed is too much to detail here, but in the end it was decided that the record was a new work in the form of satire and wasn’t infringing on anyone’s copyright. It was one of those rare cases where the little guy actually won…
Goodman continued a balancing act over the next couple of decades between trying to be a legitimate songwriter and record producer, and creating more “break-in” records. He rubbed shoulders with the charts from time to time, but never had another big breakthrough until “Mr. Jaws” in 1975. Once that record came and went, he kept making novelty records periodically until his untimely end in 1989.
What’s really beautiful about Goodman’s novelty records — and this is a serious statement — is they’re excellent time capsules of different eras. Pick up any of his records and you’ll get an idea as to what was being played on the radio at the time. Wanna know what was big in 1969? Check out “On Campus.”…
Ol’ Dickie also left behind a nice sampling (no pun intended) of what was on the public’s mind as well. Communism, the flying saucer craze, the moon landing, campus unrest, Watergate, and the energy crisis were just a few topics covered by both the evening news and Goodman’s records. He also satirized television shows like Ben Casey, The Untouchables, Bonanza, Batman, and Happy Days among others, and various movies including Superfly, Shaft, King Kong, Star Wars, and E.T.
Keep in mind that these may look easy to do, but they’re not. Granted, anybody can throw one together (and many others have over the years), but to make one that’s actually funny is no simple task…
Honoring a pioneer: “Dickie Goodman and the Art of the ‘Break-In’ Record,” from @rebeatmag.
* DJ Spooky
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As we eulogize our elders, we might recall that the #1 song in the U.S, on this date in 2002 was “Always on Time,” by Ja Rule featuring Ashanti. It has been sampled (at least) 9 times since.
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There’s also a negative side.”*…
I would like to begin this talk on the future of “popular” music with a few cautionary notes about our ability to see into the future clearly. The fact is, it would appear we are not very good at it. Somewhere back in our Savannah DNA, we got very good at reacting to danger when it presented itself — say a lion or tiger. However, it seems we are less capable of looking ahead to avoid danger. In other words, we are a reactive rather than proactive animal. The contemporary analogy in relation to climate change is that we are similar to the frog in a pot of hot water who does not have the sensors to recognize the increasing temperature and the fact that he should get out of the boiling pot.
Yes, there have been a handful of futurists – H.G Wells, Aldous Huxley, and given the state of many current governments I would grudgingly include Ayn Rand. Probably the most successful futurists in our lifetime may have been Marshall McLuhan and Stanley Kubrick, but even so, all of these writers and film makers have been only partially successful gazing into the crystal ball. Given that the past is no more fixed than the future I begin this conversation with you.
What I hope to discuss in this time with you is the relationship between technology, the gift of music and the commodification of that gift and how that gift and the commodification of the gift has been eroded in the digital age, and as I see it, could continue to be eroded well into the 21st century…
A provocative talk by Ian Tamblyn, a pillar of the Canadian music world, on popular music and its uncertain future: “A brief history of why artists are no longer making a living making music.”
TotH to friend CE. Image above: source.
* Hunter S. Thompson
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As we pay the piper, we might recall that it was on this date in 1969 that John Lennon and Yoko Ono were married in the British Consul’s office in Gibraltar. “We wanted to get married on a cross-channel ferry – that was the romantic part,” Lennon said in the Beatles Anthology documentary. “We went to Southampton and then we couldn’t get on because she wasn’t English, and she couldn’t get the day visa to go across. They said, ‘Anyway, you can’t get married. The Captain’s not allowed to do it any more.'”
“Take a sad song and make it better”*…
A rehearsal of Hair. Premiered in late 1967; photo taken, 1968
Certain years acquire an almost numinous quality in collective memory—1789, 1861, 1914. One of the more recent additions to the list is 1968. Its fiftieth anniversary has brought a flood of attempts to recapture it—local, national, and transnational histories, anthologies, memoirs, even performance art and musical theater. Immersion in this literature soon produces a feeling of déjà vu, particularly if one was politically conscious at the time (as I was).
Up to a point, repetition is inevitable. Certain public figures and events are inescapable: the tormented Lyndon Johnson, enmeshed in an unpopular, unwinnable war and choosing to withdraw from the presidential stage; the antiwar candidacies of Eugene McCarthy and Robert Kennedy; the intensifying moral challenges posed by Martin Luther King; the assassinations of King and Kennedy; the racially charged violence in most major cities; the police riot against antiwar protesters (and anyone else who got in their way) at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago; the emergence of right-wing candidates—George Wallace, Richard Nixon—appealing to a “silent majority” whose silence was somehow construed as civic virtue. And the anticlimactic election: the narrow defeat of Hubert Humphrey by Nixon, who promised to “bring us together” without specifying how.
What togetherness turned out to mean was an excruciating prolongation of the war in Vietnam, accompanied by an accelerating animosity toward dissent. The effort to satisfy the silent majority by exorcising the demons of 1968 would eventually lead to the resurgence of an interventionist military policy, the dismantling of what passed for a welfare state, and the prosecution of a “war on drugs” that would imprison more Americans than had ever been behind bars before.
Revisiting this story is important and necessary. But difficulties arise when one tries to identify who those demons actually were…
Rutgers professor Jackson Lear considers several attempts to distill the lessons of the late 60s: “Aquarius Rising.”
Special bonus: film critic J. Hoberman on why, in 1968, an especially rich year for cinema, Night of the Living Dead was his pick for best movie.
* The Beatles, “Hey Jude”
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As we Let The Sunshine In, we might recall that on this date in 1968, our post’s title source, “Hey Jude,” sat at #2 on the pop chart– just ahead of “1,2,3, Redlight” by the 1910 Fruitgum Co. at #3 and The Rascals’ “People Got To Be Free” at #4… and just behind that week’s #1, “Harper Valley P.T.A.” by Jeannie C. Riley.
“In many ways, classic rock became bigger than mainstream rock”*…
Led Zeppelin is classic rock. So are Mötley Crüe and Ozzy Osbourne. But what about U2 or Nirvana? As a child of the 1990s, I never doubted that any of these bands were classic rock, even though it may be shocking for many to hear. And then I heard Green Day’s “American Idiot” on a classic rock station a few weeks ago, and I was shocked.
It was my first time hearing a band I grew up with referred to as “classic rock.” Almost anyone who listens to music over a long enough period of time probably experiences this moment — my colleagues related some of their own, like hearing R.E.M. or Guns N’ Roses on a classic rock station — but it made me wonder, what precisely is classic rock?…
Follow FiveThirtyEight’s deep– and diverting– dive into the data at “Why Classic Rock Isn’t What It Used To Be.”
* Chuck D
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As we roll around in our roots, we might spare a thought for another variety of classic: it was on this date in 1930 that Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington recorded his first big hit, “Mood Indigo.” Ellington was fond of saying, “Well, I wrote that in 15 minutes while I was waiting for my mother to finish cooking dinner.” With lyrics added by Mitchell Parish in 1931 (but credited to Ellington’s manager Irving Mills), “Mood Indigo” became a vocal as well as an instrumental standard, recorded by Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra and Nina Simone among many, many others.
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Mission Statement for (Roughly) Daily…
My work explores the relationship between new class identities and midlife subcultures.
With influences as diverse as Kierkegaard and Francis Bacon, new combinations are generated from both explicit and implicit layers.
Ever since I was a student I have been fascinated by the theoretical limits of relationships. What starts out as triumph soon becomes corroded into a hegemony of power, leaving only a sense of nihilism and the chance of a new beginning.
As temporal phenomena become clarified through emergent and personal practice, the reader is left with a statement of the edges of our era.
Readers can create their own statements– for use in funding applications, exhibitions, curriculum vitae, websites, and the like– at Arty Bollocks Generator (an entry on the 10K Apart Challenge— in which developers built apps like this one in less than 10 kilobytes).
As we plan our next retreats, we might recall that it was on this date in 1978 that UNICEF named the rock group Kansas “Deputy Ambassadors of Goodwill.” (Music historians have mused that, had the band operated with the benefit of a compelling artistic mission statement, they might well have joined the likes of Summer Sanders and Tami Erin as full Ambassadors.)
“Carry On Wayward Son” (source)
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