The History of Rock 'n' Roll: Rebellion and Fun

This summer I am teaching a course entitled The History of Rock ‘n’ Roll (and Everything in It) in Ten Songs at Shalem College. Read more about the course plan here. Below is the first installment describing what the students and I find...

Our task is daunting: ten songs to map the history of rock and everything in it. 

We began by tracing stories of rebellion and fun with these tunes:

• Chuck Berry, “Roll Over Beethoven” (1956)
• The Replacements, “Bastards of Young” (1985)
• David Bowie, “Rebel, Rebel” (1974)
• Tracy Bonham, “Mother, Mother” (1996)
• The Beatles, “She’s Leaving Home” (1967)* 

*Songs in bold as part of the core ten songs of the course.  

In this telling of rock, the stories wrapped themselves around each other to become a woman's tale. She moved through four decades of rock 'n' roll as a ghost of many forms - sometimes a child, sometimes a parent; she was a performer, performed upon, and an audience as well. 

Chuck Berry, "Roll Over Beethoven"

She begins innocently, tagging along for fun in Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven:"

You know she wiggles like a glow worm,
dance like a spinnin' top.
She got a crazy partner,
Ya oughta see 'em reel and rock.
Long as she got a dime the music won't never stop.

Plugging dimes into the jukebox whose repetitive rhythms pull her close, she's found a beat and a partner and they've got their moves while Beethoven - the one she is supposed to love - is just a zombie, half memory and half man but all in the grave. There might be something creepy in the air, but no one is yet all that far from home. She and her friends may have contracted "rockin' pneumonia" and "rollin' arthiritis," but no one is limping, no one has gone off the rails.

But dime after dime in the jukebox ultimately releases something contagious and foreign that follows her back home. The Beatles named it in "She's Leaving Home." A restless daughter well-loved still needs to leave her sleeping parents who "gave her everything money can buy." She tip-toes out and away with tears in her eyes. Money can't buy her love and "fun is the one thing that money can't buy." So she leaves her mother and father for a partner. Maybe not Chuck Berry's crazy partner. He's a man from the motor trade. But as she sets off down the rock 'n' roll highway there is no way of telling what will be.

David Bowie, "Rebel, Rebel"

Times gets stranger. By "Rebel, Rebel," mother is "not sure if she's a boy or a girl." She has found lots of fun, probably too much fun. Her face is a mess and she's torn her dress. That's part of breaking down what ever had held her back before, of course, but the purpose of all of this noise and striving remains unclear. David Bowie asks:

So what you wanna know Calamity's child,
Where'd you wanna go?

Maybe somewhere, maybe nowhere, but the girl becomes a woman who becomes a mother. She travels far but only far enough to become the very same middle-aged woman whose sons and daughters now start their own band. Call them the Replacements: angry, realistic, charming, and drunk. 

These kids of the 80's had parents who turned over Beethoven with the addictive beat of the juke box, frightening and surprising their parents, but it does not save them them from the same mistakes and boredom that shaped the first generation that raised itself at rock's knee. 

"Clean your baby womb," the Replacements sing:

Trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground
There ain't no beer tonight 

Elvis is the new Beethoven, but not even live enough in death to roll over.

Tracy Bonham, "Mother, Mother"

By Tracy Bonham's "Mother, Mother," teen rage and rebellion which rock 'n' roll had natured and sold are as standard as a man from the motor trade. A girl can screech and howl just as loudly as a boy. That's good news. But rock pneumonia, even as it is translated in two or three generations of record-making, festers and the kids are not quite all right:

I'm hungry, I'm dirty 
I'm losing my mind, everything's fine!
I'm freezing, I'm starving 
I'm bleeding to death, everything's fine!

It's not clear what the call to rebellion that breaks down barriers of gender and culture and breaks up the home has actually done. 

Yoel Botnivick found Calmity's Child - the specter of a woman holding many different forms - rounding a corner on the Rolling Stones' Bridges to Babylon just about the same time as Tracy Bonham's "Mother, Mother:"

Anybody seen my baby 
Anybody seen her around 
If I just close my eyes 
I reach out and touch the prize
Anybody seen her around
Lost, lost and never found
I must have called her a thousand times
Sometimes I think she's just in my imagination
Lost in the crowd

That bridge to Babylon and a long look into the crowd gave us direction to our next set of

tunes, all playing out the theme prophecy:

• Vivaldi, Gloria: In Excelsis Deo
• Patti Smith, “Gloria: In Excelsis Deo” (1975)
• Van Morrison and Them, “Gloria”
• Blind Willie Johnson, “John the Revelator” (1930)
• R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” (1987)

These were followed by two songs, one on love and another on friendship.

• Aretha Franklin, “I Never Loved a Man (the Way That I Love You)” (1967)
• Bruce Springsteen, “Backstreets” (1975)

Next Up: Prophecy, Love & Friendship

The History of Rock and Roll: An Introduction

Name the ten songs that explain the history of rock 'n' roll. Not just your ten favorite songs and not even the ten most important or best tunes. Name the ten songs that together tell the story of rock 'n' roll in the richest, most meaningful way. Go ahead. I'll wait...

Now that days, weeks, or perhaps even months have passed, I'll continue.

This summer I am teaching a course entitled The History of Rock ‘n’ Roll (and Everything in It) in Ten Songs. (In fact I am teaching two mini-courses on rock 'n' roll at Shalem College in July and August. The second is entitled The Music and Myth of Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan. More on that in a few weeks...)

Greil Marcus

I know what some of you are thinking. This course already steals a page - and a cover and a concept and a title - from Greil Marcus' forthcoming book The History of Rock 'n' Roll in 10 Songs.   

My cards are on the table. I have nothing to hide. Greil Marcus is a master of cultural criticism who has shaped my own work in countless ways. Any rock exercise compelling enough for him to use as the basis for a book is more than compelling enough for me to chew on with the students for a few weeks.

Stranded on a Desert Island

Part of rock fandom - and likewise part of the realm of sports and likewise religion and myth - is the making and reciting and sharing of lists. Who are the five greatest basketball players of all time? What is the one album you would take with you if you were stranded on a desert island? (There is no Spotify allowed there, not even off-line streaming, but there is a Greil Marcus book available if you need help packing.) 

What are the core elements of a covenant with the divine? Would you list the ten commandments, the seven Noahide laws, the Golden Rule or the six hundred and thirteen mitzvot? Zealots and mystics and scholars and heretics have been playing this game for thousands of years. A winner has yet to be determined.

Lists are one of the longest-standing ways people make order in civilization, particularly as a key element in the ancient art of memory which I have used elsewhere to explain the fusion of ancient and contemporary artistry that defines Dylan's greatness. 

In this case - the case of a cultural effort like rock music which relies so much on memory for contextualizing and qualifying meaning - imagine memory as a vast garden dependent on cultivation to survive. By turning over the soil of culture again and again, by making and remaking lists as part of serious and grounding play, culture makers keep the earth fresh and fertile and ordered and alive. 

A stagnant memory dies just like an untended garden. Making lists, speculating, and pushing content into shared rubrics are more than just a party tricks. They keep the party going. 

The Plan

I am being very careful in my adaptation of Greil's approach. I have not yet read his book, even properly steeling myself from stealing from it by vowing not to look even at the table of contents until after finishing the course. 

My entire enterprise begin with the question, "What matters to rock ‘n’ roll?" The answer, which provided me with the tools of cultivation that led to harvesting the ten songs we needed, is found in these ten themes: Prophecy, rebellion, fashion, love, war, friendship, work, sex, death and fun. 

Yes, I made a list of ten to get to another list of ten. But by listening to, reading about, and discussing ten great rock songs grappling with these ten themes across the approximately three prime decades of rock, I think we will understand not only the history of rock more fully, but the world that made and heard it as well.

The Age of Classic Rock  as published here on FiveThirtyEight.

The Homework
I will be posting reflections on what the students and I find out right here on this blog following each of the sessions.

The theme of Session I is Rebellion and Fun.  If you are feeling particularly ready to rock and wish to be a teacher's pet, I welcome you to prepare in advance for class, which will take place on Sunday July 13. 

Our listening list for Sunday includes the following tunes:

• Chuck Berry, “Roll Over Beethoven” (1956)
• The Replacements, “Bastards of Young” (1985)
• The Crystals, “He’s a Rebel” (1963)
• David Bowie, “Rebel, Rebel” (1974)
• Tom Petty, “Rebels” (1985)
• Tracy Bonham, “Mother, Mother” (1996)
• Little Richard,“Tutti Fruitti” (1955)
• The Beatles, “She’s Leaving Home” (1967)

The Replacements, "Bastards of Young"

"But hey!" you say. "That's already eight songs. How will you ever be able to do the list in ten if you already have eight?"

That is an excellent question and it merits an answer. Only the songs in bold are included in the list of ten. The others provide context and support for them.

"Oh come now," you say, "that's cheating."

No, it's not. Because this might look like a college class to you, but it's still rock 'n' roll. And that means that we get to do what we want.

"Jeez," you say.

Jeez indeed. And I would add that the students and I wholeheartedly welcome your comments below. In the words of the great Paul Westerberg of the Replacements: "Take it, it's yours."

Next Up: Rebellion & Fun