The Canberra Times - Mark Juddery column

Rock snobs the worst

June 18, 2007

In my latest attempt to return to my childhood, I recently found myself listening to one of my favourite groups of the time: Bucks Fizz. Remember them? Now THAT was a pop group!

            I know what you’re thinking. How can I admit even a passing interest in that group? Didn’t they win the Eurovision Song Contest, that celebration of kitsch? Weren’t they a manufactured band who didn’t even play any instruments? Sure, but they did their own singing – and at times, they could be a sweet-sounding combo. That fact might have escaped you, because admittedly, they did resemble a quartet of blond mannequins. Mike Nolan and Bobby Gee always seemed like twins (though my sister found them easier to tell apart). Jay Aston was the least wholesome member, the siren who made boys drool. But I always preferred Cheryl Baker, with the pretty face and the cheeky smile. (Then again, I was like that. I know that Ginger was meant to be the sexy one on Gilligan’s Island, but I always thought Marianne was considerably hotter.)

            Sadly, while they were popular back in 1982, few people are willing to so openly admit a fondness for Bucks Fizz nowadays. It’s not the done thing! You don’t think that “Making Your Mind Up” and “Land of Make-Believe” were perfect pop? No, they are now considered cynical pieces of commercialism. What, songs written so that people would (gasp!) ENJOY them? Now, when looking back to the early 1980s, everyone trying to express their cool credentials would rave about Pink Floyd or the Police.

            Sure, Bucks Fizz wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but I’m suspicious that most of the scorn is really an attempt to follow the Rolling Stone magazine model of what makes “good” music. One thing that has always made pop music so good, apart from its accessibility, was its lack of pretension. But nowadays, of all the music snobs in the world, few are as bad as the rock snobs.

            There are several signs of a rock snob. Do you consider John Lennon inherently superior to Paul McCartney? Do you think that Marianne Faithfull didn’t sound any good until she took enough drugs to lose her sweet, melodic voice and turn into a female Rod Stewart impersonator? Do you still get upset if someone criticises Janis Joplin, protesting that it’s not good to attack such a tragic figure? (She’s been dead for 36 years. Get over it!) Do you call yourself a generic “music fan”, though you like the Sex Pistols better than Stravinsky? (There’s only one kind of music, of course, and that’s rock!) Do you scoff at any musician who doesn’t take hard drugs? If so, see a doctor, or at least take some Abba records between meals. You might be suffering from ROCK SNOBBERY!

            Don’t get me wrong. Despite my daggy fondness for Bucks Fizz, I am also one of the few people who actually BOUGHT – and yes, adores –  “The Velvet Underground and Nico”, a must-have album for rock snobs. But I love it not for the guitar screeching, or the drug-fuelled cacophony at the end, but for such unfashionable things as the musicianship and the melodies. Lou Reed’s voice never again sounded so good as it did on the first song, “Sunday Morning”, a gorgeous song that goes completely against the album’s (and the band’s) reputation.

            And yes, in an attempt I did publicly destroy a vinyl Kylie Minogue LP in the Narrabundah College courtyard back in 1988. But then, I have to draw the line somewhere. (For the record, she’s STILL annoying.)

            Nonetheless, I’m happy to admit my less fashionable tastes. Do you happen to enjoy Sailor’s “Champagne” or Herman’s Hermits’ version of “I’m in for Something Good”? Do you wish you didn’t have to hide your Doris Day CDs whenever friends come to visit? Did you buy a stack of Springsteen CDs just so you could use the sleeves to disguise your collection of songs from 1940s MGM musicals?

            There’s no reason to be ashamed. Sure, your rock snob friends’ enthusiasm might be wonderful, but it’s OK to say “no” to endless hours of Jimi Hendrix. Not only OK, but highly recommended.