It changes a lot! But I can tell you what I’m doing now, or at least what I do most of the time. A breakdown and links to products included after the jump. Note that my skin type is dry, reactive, and quite red– I need to see the dermatologist again, because I think at this point my dermatitis has progressed into mild rosacea– so YMMV if you have oily or acne-prone skin.
You can draw a definitive line from Townshend to each of those songwriters listed, even if you need to make a quick turn or two on the cladogram. Craig Finn, I think, prefers Grant Hart to Bob Mould; but Husker Du nonetheless exists because of The Who. And The Afghan Whigs are more obviously descended from them than The Twilight Singers seem to be—Greg openly confirmed, as he sat next to me in a church pew in Philadelphia, of all places, that Black Love was their attempt at Quadrophenia—but it’s the same core presence behind both.
It’s like my personal taste has been totally cemented and inalienable since I saw Live At Leeds as a preteen. In my defense, I don’t believe there is a songwriter alive with the quite the same melodic facility. He has an intuition and inventiveness with the way he strings together these chords, and it’s a style that many have imitated but none are quite so genius to replicate. It goes so far beyond POWER & VOLUME, POWER & VOLUME… which are embodied perfectly and delightfully well by Cheap Trick, 70s power pop, any 80s hair metal band of your choice, or 90s/2000s-era pop punk. (I’m looking at you, Billie Joe.) I’m talking, like, the intro to “Pinball Wizard” – that little path of notes leading up to that iconic riff, even more than the riff itself, seems to define his method. Or the climbing, horn-embellished coda to “Rough Boys,” which blows my mind anew every time I hear it.
He’s so… essential. Embedded in the fabric of contemporary pop rock!
And he’s a great fucking guitarist! Okay, I’m biased, but he may be one of the greatest rhythm guitarists of all time. No one else can wrench that much pure, violent, unadulterated joy from an instrument. It’s that facility again, but also probably a function of the sheer size of his hands. It always seems like he might destroy the thing. (I mean, he has. Purposefully. But you know what I mean.)
@porcelain-engine I think you asked me about this when I was asking everyone else about it, and I forgot to answer! Five songs that give me goosebumps (and where, if applicable):
1. The Who, “Baba O’Riley” – cliché, but Townshend remains my favorite songwriter of all time, and this remains my favorite song of all time, for a reason. That synth line (is it an ARP 2600 or the Odyssey? I forget) is inimitable, it seems to tap into the very fabric of the universe. Listening to Baba O’Riley is cosmic experience. Nothing comes close.
2. The Twilight Singers, “Teenage Wristband” – Speaking of! I must be a sucker for a tremulous keyboard or something. The story behind the title is that either Matthias Schneeberger or Jon Skibic—I don’t have the patience to check my notes, but @thesoulthescreen may remember who—heard Greg playing it and remarked that it sounded like that “Teenage Wristband song.” The placeholder name stuck, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. I think he knew he couldn’t change it. It is an homage in both body and soul. You get a sense of these characters consumed by a longing for purpose, for escape. And it’s such a deeply affecting, beautiful song.
The moment that does it for me is that final chorus, where Greg and Petra aren’t so much singing as they are howling, and his voice goes cracked and raspy and wild with abandon: and I’m going to stay up all night, all night, all night, all night. It’s where I start to cry at the live performances. I’m quietly devastated that The Twilight Singers are very likely dead and gone, but relieved that “Teenage Wristband” makes a regular appearance at both Afghan Whigs shows and the intermittent Greg Dulli solo tour.
3. The Hold Steady, “Weekenders” – I’m much more attached to the front end of the Hold Steady catalogue, but this was the high point of Heaven is Whenever and it’s got to be in my top five tracks they’ve ever done. When I play this song for my father in the car, and say to him with total earnestness, “This band is E Street for my generation,” I can almost sell it to him. It’s dirtbag poetry: the fragile hopes and dreams of bar rat teenagers and drug-addled low-lives, treading the same awful ruts but with their eyes on something bigger, greater than themselves, and afforded the gravity of scripture.
God only knows it’s not always a positive thing to see a few seconds into the future.
4. Tommy Keene, “Behind the Parade” – Keeping with the trend of this list containing mostly songwriters owing a clear debt to Townshend, and carrying on that legacy of big, ringing, intensely melodic sound, the bridge here is pure Pete. I am heartbroken, resentful, that this man is dead; that he died too young and without the recognition I feel he is owed. I am taking up the torch to ensure that everyone I meet who loves rock ‘n’ roll, at the very least anyone who reads this blog, comes away having heard of him. And if you listen to any song first, it should be this one.
5. Bob Mould, “First Time Joy” – And a man who traversed the same rocky path from punk to godfather. Short of Copper Blue and his time in Sugar, I think Silver Age may be my favorite record Bob has ever done. He’s old and weathered, less pointed but still polished. It’s the work of a man who knows exactly who he is and where he fits in the canon, who can experience rage as vindication and catharsis and not simply fuel for the engine of self-destruction. This song exemplifies what it is for a punk rocker to age gracefully. I get chills when he summarizes it all so succinctly, so beautifully: first time joy, and last time pain. I listen to this old refrain.
The Who’s Pete Townshend at home with his record collection, June 1966
My iPhone voicemail transcribes my nickname as “Boxed” which, when you consider the German, is not that far off.
Well I stopped crying after showers about a year ago because what good does it do, it won’t make my hair grow back, but unfortunately visits to the hairdresser are still a bit traumatic. I think it’s time to just start socking money away for PRP injections. I think the Minoxidil is slowing the loss, and I have clever cosmetic methods of concealing it, but at this rate I feel like I’ll be bald by 40.
That book was my albatross for YEARS. It was out of print. Old copies of it would circulate the secondhand market for moments at a time, trading swiftly among the clutches of old nerds for astronomical sums, and I desperately wanted it but could never justify buying. Sometimes the nicer old nerds would transcribe bits of the album descriptions, or (gasp) provide scans.
Now Shake Some Action 2.0 is shipping in late December and I’ll finally hold it in my hands. For a mere $50, if you include the CD compilation and digital archive. Which of course I had to have. I’m in total shock. I don’t know what to say. I honestly thought I’d never get to read this book.
Rick Springfield, 1973
I had those pants. He looks cool in them. I did not.
thebullfighters replied to your post “Is Rick Owens the post-aughts Dior Homme for rock bands? Not a 1:1…”
lollike hedi’s dior, ricks earlier work is aging really well. i dig it :P
Rick’s early work is absolutely timeless rock star, as is Hedi’s in his own way! Scrawny, long-haired young men in ties, blazers, and Chelsea boots has been around since… well. You know. :)
Is Rick Owens the post-aughts Dior Homme for rock bands? Not a 1:1 transfer but certainly closer than any other contemporary designer.
Buying Less, but Buying Better with Third Eye Blind's Stephan Jenkins - Third Eye Blind Stephan Jenkins Interview Sale
@rgr-pop reminded me of Stephan Jenkins, who is a trip. I should maybe no longer be shocked when aging rock stars turn out to be quietly discriminating collectors of streetwear and/or archival fashion (see: Trent Reznor, Lou Reed, Keith Richards, John Mayer) but the fact that this dude uses Grailed on the regular and submitted to an interview on the subject is hilarious to me.
Stephan Jenkins: “I’m into Carol Christian Poell, MA+. I have a lot of late-90s Carpe Diem, but I don’t think people would even know what that is.”
We named Ernie, possibly the dumbest and least dignified creature alive, after Ernest Becker, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author/psychoanalyst/existentialist philosopher. And Daisy– our sweet, demure, eternally frightened little Daisy– is named after Tim DeLaughter’s old band. So both of those did not quite work out as expected.