The 10 Rules Of Rock And Roll

Robert Forster

Description

In his first book, Australian singer-songwriter Robert Forster takes readers on an idiosyncratic journey through the past and present of popular music: from Bob Dylan to Cat Power, from AC/DC to Nana Mouskouri, from The Saints to Franz Ferdinand.

With 30 years experience as a recording artist and performer and an undimmed love of popular music, Forster’s observations about his fellow artists balance the enthusiasm of a fan with an insider’s authority. He is that rare thing, a musician who can write about music, and he brings to this collection of critical essays the erudition, wit and craft of his songwriting.

Originally published in Australia in 2009, The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll was praised for its “fresh insights by a genuine master” (Courier Mail) and for providing an “assured guide to recent pop music from the perspective of a songwriter who has willingly kept up” (Weekend Australian). This revised and updated edition features new material not included in the original book, as well as short fiction and two moving tributes to Forster’s fellow Go-Between, Grant McLennan.

Sujets

• Musique
• Histoire de la musique
• Musique
• Buyer's Guides
• MUSIC
• Multiple signal classification
• Discography
• General officer
• General

Informations

• Publié par: Jawbone Press
• Date de parution: 01 août 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781906002732
• Langue: English

Extrait

The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll
Collected Music Writings 2005–11
Robert Forster
A Jawbone book
Revised and updated edition 2011
Published in the UK and the USA by
Jawbone Press
2a Union Court,
20–22 Union Road,
London SW4 6JP,
England
www.jawbonepress.com
This edition published by permission of Foruli Ltd, London, England
www.foruli.co.uk
ISBN 978-1-906002-73-2
Editor: Thomas Jerome Seabrook
Volume copyright © 2011 Outline Press Ltd. Text copyright © Robert Forster. All rights reserved. No part of this book covered by the copyrights hereon may be reproduced or copied in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews where the source should be made clear. For more information contact the publishers.


To Karin
Who always believed

Contents
Introduction, or How I Became a Rock Critic
The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll
ALBUMS
The Return of the Wichita Lineman
Seeing the Light
Confession & Hits (Hits & Confession)
Setting Herself Apart
Modern Times and Times Before That
Turn Around: You Weren’t Invited
To the Heart
Lost Women Found
Embers Re-Flamed
Nihilistic Ear-worms
Back to College
Thoughts in the Middle of a Career
An Afternoon at Rough Trade
Worms Don’t Dance
Sunshine on My Brain
In Search of a Songwriter
Too Smart to Run Back
Welcome to the New Neil
Frank’s Back
Distant Sounds
Love Goes to a Building on Fire
Slippin’
God Save His Soul
Bryan Looks Back
Nature Boy
BOOKS
Pop Producer in B-Grade Movie Actress Murder Trial
The Uncorking
The 5000 Spirits or The Layers of the Onion
Rock and Roll Babble On
CONCERTS
Soft Touch
Tales from Pig City
Heroes (Just for One Day)
Out on the Weekend
Bowled Again …
Strangers in the Night
ON GRANT
A True Hipster
Demon Days
OTHER WRITINGS
2274 Words of Praise
Who Loves the Sun?
The Infinite
Tired and Emotional
Going for a Song
FICTION
The Coronation of Normie Rowe
The 10 Bands I Wish I’d Been In
About the Author



Introduction, or How I Became a Rock Critic
Seven years ago this book was not on the horizon. Then I was one of two singer–songwriters in The Go-Betweens and we had just completed our ninth album, Oceans Apart , in London. It was before Christmas 2004 when the band’s Australian manager, Bernard Galbally, phoned to tell me that the editor of a new magazine, to be called The Monthly , was enquiring to see if I was interested in being its rock critic.
The editor was Christian Ryan. He was someone I didn’t know, and the fact that I couldn’t see or hold the magazine he was putting together added to the difficulty of the decision I had to make. My involvement required a leap of faith and the leap was going to be made in the public eye. But I could also see the confidence he was showing in me: my entire published writings, my portfolio so to speak, consisted of an article I’d written on hair care for a Manchester fanzine called Debris back in 1987, and a review of a Bob Dylan album in the German rock magazine Spex in 1990. Whatever had prompted Christian Ryan to invite me to write for The Monthly , I knew it couldn’t have been what I’d done so far; it must have been based on what he thought I could do – which was intriguing and flattering to me.
I told Bernard I would think on it over Christmas. The other stumbling block was that I knew of no other practising rock musician in the world writing regular published music criticism. Linked to this was the ancient divide, not too strong in my mind, between journalists on one side of the fence with their pens and supposed frustrated rock-star dreams, and the bourbon-drinking, cigarette-puffing, ‘they don’t understand us’ world of the musicians on the other. In the end the decision to say yes was relatively simple. When had following the dictates of rock ’n’ roll lore ever had anything to do with me? And when I spoke to Christian Ryan, he dropped one important piece of information. He told me that Helen Garner was going to be the film critic. Then I knew. Then the scale and ambition of The Monthly became clear, as did the twist and angle that Christian wanted from his writers in relation to the subjects they were going to review.
One thing, though. Helen Garner had novels, screenplays and much published journalism behind her. I had Spex and the aptly named Debris , and the words ‘deadline’ and ‘line editor’ were only familiar from movies such as All the President’s Men . So a plan was hatched. I’d write 1500 words on any new record I wished, send it to Christian, who was to be my editor, and if what I wrote failed – total honesty being a part of our pact – then we’d end our experiment with no one the wiser, and he would engage a writer with a more conventional past in rock criticism.
Two pieces of good fortune then interceded. Firstly, the release of Oceans Apart was underway, and with the band’s other songwriter, Grant McLennan, I found myself in Amsterdam on a European promotional tour, where I snared an early copy of what was to be that year’s hot album: Antony and the Johnsons’ I Am a Bird Now . And secondly, back in Brisbane I found that I could write paragraph after paragraph of my feelings and thoughts about this record without tripping up. I didn’t know if what I wrote was good, or whether it would be accepted, the review beginning with the narrative of my listening to the album while sitting in the back of a taxi in Milan traffic, and not with a plotted course of the history of Antony and the Johnsons.
So the big thank you of this introduction goes out to Christian Ryan; for not only thinking sideways and then taking the gamble of hiring me, but also for his stewardship of my career as music critic, which started with his wonderfully enthusiastic response to my first review and the fine editing and advice he brought to my work. This book would not have been written without him.
Christian left The Monthly after six months, and without wishing to be flippant, this may not have been as traumatic for Helen Garner or Clive James or any other of the seasoned contributors as it was for me. Christian was the only editor I’d ever known. I was worried how I was going to go with the new regime, both technically and on a personal level. I needn’t have been: Sally Warhaft, the new editor, was instantly reassuring, enthusiastic and very capable, and with her came David Winter, my new line editor. David’s editing skills are evident in most of The Monthly articles in this volume and I thank him and Sally for helping me develop as a writer in tandem with the growth and maturity they both brought to the magazine. Since their departure I have begun a good working relationship with The Monthly ’s most recent editor, Ben Naparstek, which I look forward to continuing.
I am very happy to see this updated and revised version of The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll on Jawbone Press. For this edition of the book I have added five new reviews from 2010 and one from 2011. To further refine the content I have withdrawn three reviews that had a particularly Australian bias, and concentrated, when I can, on more internationally known artists in the new inclusions.
I remain writing at The Monthly , enjoying the support of the editorial team. The magazine in its sixth year, is successful, and I continue to discover music of interest and just as importantly continue to be intrigued by the people who make it.
Robert Forster, Brisbane, April 2011



The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll
1. Never follow an a rtist who describes his or her work as ‘dark’.
2. The second-last song on every album is the weakest.
3. Great bands tend to look alike.
4. Being a rock star is a 24-hour-a-day job.
5. The band with the most tattoos has the worst songs.
6. No band does anything new on stage after the first 20 minutes.
7. The guitarist who changes guitars on stage after every third number is showing you his guitar collection.
8. Every great artist hides behind their manager.
9. Great bands don’t have members making solo albums.
10.The three-piece band is the purest form of rock and roll expression.



ALBUMS



The Return of the Wichita Lineman
Glen Campbell’ s Meet Glen Campbell
Put yourself in Glen Campbell’s shoes. You’re 72. You’ve sold 45 million records. You’ve been married four times, most recently back in 1982. You have eight children. Your time is spent primarily on the golf course – there was the Glen Campbell Los Angeles Open on the pro-golf circuit through the ’70s. You smoke cigars and you belong to the Messianic Judaism movement. You haven’t made a charting pop record for 30 years, though you play the odd gig or tour and occasionally a live record or a selection of Christian songs comes out under your name. And of course you live in Malibu. Then this long-haired guy comes to one of your shows and tells you he’s a record producer, and he not only wants to make a record with you of songs written mostly by young people you’ve never heard of, but he’s also approached your old record label, Capitol – the one you had your big hits with back in the ’60s, like ‘Galveston’, ‘Gentle on My Mind’, ‘By the Time I Get to Phoenix’ – and they’re enthusiastic about the idea. They want you back. As you stand in your dressing room, guitar around your neck, stage sweat on your brow, you’d have to ask yourself: Do I really want to go through this one more time?
The old performer approached by the young producer rais