Cleveland Rocks
I’m not sure what exactly Russell Smith was trying to say in this (subscriber-only) Globe and Mail column about the most recent round of Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions – awards bad? cultural institutions unnecessary? rock & roll and “hall of fame” don’t mix? – but whatever it was, he further muddies his own waters with some shameless Cleveland-baiting.
Such as, “How could anyone accept the conjunction of Sex Pistols and Cleveland, much less demand it?” And, “Surely we should condemn any so-called rock ’n’ roller who accepts the corporate call of Cleveland, who is thrilled to be deemed safe by the official voice of Middle America?” And, “rock ’n’ roll is, sadly, alive and married and living in Cleveland.”
I would like to think that “Cleveland” here is just a metonym for the RnR Hall of Fame itself, which sits on the city’s lakefront. Or maybe for “our corporate overlords.” But I suspect that if it’s a metonym for anything, it’s for some imagined mass of small-minded small-towners on whom art & beauty & rock are wasted. You know, dullards who choose to live in benighted Ohio instead of, say, gleaming Toronto.
That is, after all, a recurring theme in Smith’s work. But this time out it’s especially misguided, since Cleveland is a total rock & roll town. Alan Freed? “Time Won’t Let Me”? Pere Ubu Rocket from the Tombs Dead Boys Electric Eels?
I realize we’re not talking Swinging London 1966 here, or Lower East Side 1975. And we can’t expect every general-interest cultural commentator to be down with Pere Ubu. But surely we can expect them to not be so proud of their own unexamined prejudices?
Ah, well. Anger is an energy, as, er, someone once sang. Here are some of Cleveland’s own. (Well, I think Great Plains/TJSA were from Columbus, actually, but hey, that’s close. And that track gets bonus points for relevance & timeliness.)
Such as, “How could anyone accept the conjunction of Sex Pistols and Cleveland, much less demand it?” And, “Surely we should condemn any so-called rock ’n’ roller who accepts the corporate call of Cleveland, who is thrilled to be deemed safe by the official voice of Middle America?” And, “rock ’n’ roll is, sadly, alive and married and living in Cleveland.”
I would like to think that “Cleveland” here is just a metonym for the RnR Hall of Fame itself, which sits on the city’s lakefront. Or maybe for “our corporate overlords.” But I suspect that if it’s a metonym for anything, it’s for some imagined mass of small-minded small-towners on whom art & beauty & rock are wasted. You know, dullards who choose to live in benighted Ohio instead of, say, gleaming Toronto.
That is, after all, a recurring theme in Smith’s work. But this time out it’s especially misguided, since Cleveland is a total rock & roll town. Alan Freed? “Time Won’t Let Me”? Pere Ubu Rocket from the Tombs Dead Boys Electric Eels?
I realize we’re not talking Swinging London 1966 here, or Lower East Side 1975. And we can’t expect every general-interest cultural commentator to be down with Pere Ubu. But surely we can expect them to not be so proud of their own unexamined prejudices?
Ah, well. Anger is an energy, as, er, someone once sang. Here are some of Cleveland’s own. (Well, I think Great Plains/TJSA were from Columbus, actually, but hey, that’s close. And that track gets bonus points for relevance & timeliness.)
- Pere Ubu, “Laughing”
- Rocket from the Tombs, “Foggy Notion”
- Electric Eels, “Jaguar Ride”
- Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments, “RnR Hall of Fame”
You can buy some Pere Ubu here and some Rocket from the Tombs here, and the Electric Eels’ online home is here. And here’s a Great Plains/TJSA discography.
posted by DW | 17.3.06
2 Comments:
Don't forget GBV!
http://hype.non-standard.net/artist/Guided+by+Voices
Smith can be okay, but can also be a self-important tool. Yesterday's Globe also had Rick Groen's (okay/tool) review of V for Vendetta and in it, he seemed to make clear that had never heard of Alan Moore. Pretty fucking lame for a major daily.
For those who think that Toronto is culturally superior to Cleveland, I have three words.
Bata.
Shoe.
Museum.
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