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Quit While You're Ahead

by Adam Schragin
November 7, 2008 - 12:19am

Oh, The Rolling Stones. Any discussion of when to pack it up or when to keep it going must include this group of geriatric geezers who still manage to tear it up on world tours, while their fans are more than willing to shuck out hundreds of bucks for a seat so that they can hear their favorite band rasp through “Angie.” It’s not that bad, of course, but is it your idea of a good time? Unless you’re Mick Jagger, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t think so, and neither do I. But I also don’t lose sleep knowing that these dinosaurs are still cranking out albums and concerts, something that seems to torment so many other music writers. Boom and bust, failures and redemptions - it’s part of any artist’s career that hasn’t been snuffed out before its time.

But here’s what does irk me - that rare instance wherein the original intent and purpose of a band has been so utterly distorted by some later incarnation, dredging on and on without the pivotal members of said project, that they manage to turn what was once inspiring into something comical and sad, like a clown getting punched in the face.

The Misfits - Many of us have a defense mechanism to keep “spooky,” kitchy goth-rock away from us at all times, and their indefensible continuity makes The Misfits an all-too-easy target for avoidance. But for a brief time after the dawn of punk, this band made some of the freshest, no-frills rock any angsty young person could hope for. Static Age, recorded in ’78 but not properly released for two decades, is a brilliant amalgamation of intense, driving punk music and a wealth of oftentimes quite traditionally harmonic influences. That lead singer Glenn Danzig sang about Vincent Price and horny Martians only furthered the appeal. You might think that after the band’s dissolution, bassist Jerry Only would have been happy to walk away from the experience with the pride of knowing he was in such an influential act, content to work on his own Christian heavy metal(!) instead of exorcising the dead, so to speak. You’d be wrong.

Only has, for the last ten years, relied on both the strength of his band’s 70s back catalog and the gullibility of mall tweens to continue to make and sell records. Starting with 1997’s American Psycho (sold with a poster inside!), the new Misfits have become increasingly cartoonish, blunt, and laughable with each release. While there’s nothing wrong with reuniting a band, the fact that Danzig, principal songwriter and lyricist, was not only uninterested in a reunion but hostile to Only’s overtures, should have been enough of a deterrent. Even cutting their predictable kibosh of tunes under a different name would have considerably spared Only and the rest of us from this awkward predicament.

ELO – The Electric Light Orchestra doesn’t have a whole lot of gravitas – they just wrote great, ambitious pop songs that appeal to everyone. Thus, when drummer Bev Bevan decided to soil ELO’s legacy by reforming the band without lead singer, songwriter and production genius Jeff Lynne, the end result was just a shadow of the fun and functionality that made ELO’s propulsive string-laden rock and roll so enlightening in the first place. That Lynne then had to sue Bevan over the use of the name ELO, and later Bevan’s compromise ELOII should really have squelched any of Bevan’s leftover ambitions. And really, playing in an ELO cover band for weddings and Bar Mitzvah’s instead of cranking out “original” material would have been better for everyone involved. But strangely, he remained undeterred. These days? ELO is dead, and so is ELOII, but what we have now is The Orchestra. Bevan is gone from the group, but his coattail riding tradition continues. 2001’s Lynne-helmed effort Zoom may not have been what ELO fans wanted, but it has to compare favorably to a twice-removed spin-off.

INXS – The boys in Joy Division had the right idea. After the suicide of their lead singer Ian Curtis, the band mourned, and then came to define the 80s dance-rock scene with a new, highly respectable incarnation of their old selves. They called their new band New Order, and while Joy Division can and should never be pushed away from their collective history, they transitioned with grace. What they would never have done, even if we were talking about 2001 and not 1981, is create a reality show based around replacing their dear departed singer. The Australian band INXS, during the 80s, were unlike Joy Division in many ways, but in their reinterpretation of dance and in the occasional naked lyrical confessionals they did have parallels. And honestly, INXS had lost their appeal by releasing albums way past their prime, but the death of singer Michael Hutchence really should have made the remaining band members reconsider what they were doing. Enter: The CBS network. The show “Rock Star: INXS” had good intentions – keeping the music alive, bringing new talent to the forefront – but all in all it just acted as a reminder of what made the band vibrant once upon a time, and unfairly refused to let Hutchence’s successes stay his own.

Mike Love ­– We have to single Mike Love out amongst the Beach Boys because of all the members of this band, reverential or annoyed that they may have been with sibling/cousin/friend and reclusive genius Brian Wilson, only Love was ultimately at odds with Wilson’s experimentation, and as the years have shown, is more than content to tour as a botched “Beach Boys” act covering those “oldies but moldies” (as the cheeseball himself has often described them) with only the late-joining B-Boy Bruce Johnston in tow. You can’t blame Love for Brian Wilson’s health problems (mental and physical), or Dennis Wilson’s drug problems, or any of the Beach Boys most prescient issues. But Love is one of the main reasons Smile was shuffled away for decades, and even the creation of the band’s heady and influential Pet Sounds was griped about by this hack, who would rather the band play “Help Me Rhonda” at state fairs for their rest of their existence rather than move a step forward. The fact that Love, despite a fantastic voice, was the singularly least talented musician and songwriter in the bunch is also enough reason to wish he had just kept his big mouth shut.

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