Sgt. Pepper and Frank Sinatra

The other day a friend sent me a funny link to a site that had a list of "One Hundred Albums to Throw out of Your Collection Right Now." It had its funny moments, including a listing of the Beatle's Sgt. Pepper's. It pointed out that rock and roll didn't need all that orchestration and production: Frank Sinatra already had that covered.

And then, like a lightbulb in my head, I realized, "yes! That is what is so right about Sgt. Pepper's!"

It represents the total surrender of rock and roll. It says, in a sense, "the greatest rock and roll band in the history of the genre is not enough to sustain interest. We need an orchestra. We need a talented and creative producer. We need a story. Shucks, if we could just take a couple of the trappings of rock and roll and go out and write an opera, we would. You are right. Music is more complex and grownups should want something more sophisticated than 'She Loves Me Yeah Yeah Yeah!'"

Then along came punk, stripped of this decadent nonsense, the angry Taliban of Rock and roll. We don't need no fourth chord! Self-indulgence! Pure! Authentic! Do it yourself! The energy is all you need!

That little ghost shirt movement fizzled pretty quickly. The Clash's Combat Rock (which has a place on the list), is punk's grand surrender moment.

"Yeah, this stuff is pretty childish and dull, too. Maybe we can make it interesting with some funk."

Now, I like a lot of rock and roll, especially punk rock, and have defended it in this space. However, we must take it for what it is and realize that rock and roll is to music as hard candies are to food. A diet of steady rock and roll makes for rotten ears and unhealthy souls. A little bit of Ramones with a lot of Scarlatti is the better way.

When "rock and roll" actually ends up transcending the limitations of its genre, it really is delving into different territory completely (Pink Floyd remains one of the rare examples of when rock and rollers took their music seriously, aimed for something higher, and got it, thus earning it the perpetual scorn of the Punk Rock Puritans).

Interestingly enough, Paul McCartney (who I never knew was a Beatle until much later than you would have thought. I always thought of him as sort of a lounge singer who did horrid duets with Michael Jackson, sort of a slightly hip Engelbert Humperdink) is now writing "serious classical music," which, for the most part, stinks. He is incapable of sustaining and developing an idea beyond 32 bars. A friend of mine pointed out that he would have been a great tin pan alley guy.

He is not a great composer of classical music, however, and his efforts do more to highlight the genius of George Martin than that of John, Paul, George and Ringo.

Must be the lack of animal protein.