Perfection in a Wrapper

Rip It Up, Issue 15, 1 September 1978, Page 17

Perfection in a Wrapper

By W. Dart

First things first, and I suppose the first question is whether we should take rock music seriously anyway. It is a music that is riddled with negative aspects the role of commercialism, for instance, and coupled with this commercialism, the part played by all the ‘middle men' (record industry execs and radio personnel). The concept of genre is fairly central to the whole aesthetic of rock music. Take a classical symphony for instance. In such a work the form itself is so complex that the composer can concentrate on a complex and highly developed working-out of the musical content. In the slighter musical forms, the content is limited and the composer may place more emphasis on style, within the piece's particular genre Chopin’s Waltzes are a notable example. And this is really much the same as a film director working with a form like the western or horror film. The use of genre may favour a stressing of style rather than content in the film world, perhaps Sternberg is the ultimate example here. In rock music this deliberate imbalance can be something of a mercy. Who would not rather have Tom Robinson doing a neat little piece of auto-rock in "Grey Cortina" than the rather naive political rhetoric of "Power in the Darkness". I often find a bit of a credibility gap when successful rock stars pull out a soapbox Phil Ochs must have been one of the few who did not compromise his beliefs and he came to a rather sorry end. Anyway, let’s leave the murky waters of politics and go somewhere where genre is everything, and where commercialism is almost an aesthetic touchstone.

Bubblegum music. A difficult term to define, this one. Lillian Roxon avoids a straight definition and the best she can come up with is “music that sells to subteens and subsubteens”. As a rule it is refreshingly commercial music utterly stripped of any preten-

sions, put across with humour and a strong sense of genre. When the 1910 Fruitgum Company gives us a social message in "The Year 2001 they walk a delicate tightrope between the naive and the archest camp. The 1910 Fruitgum Company must be one of the doyens of the phenomenon. Even Meltzer in The Aesthetics of Rock admits that they are. with the Beatles and the Stones, “unassailably the finest”. Taking their name from an old chewing gum wrapper in someone’s suit pocket, they were the biggest bubble in Buddah's blowjob. Their first hit, “Simon Says" set the pattern with its driving mindless beat, tinny organ and repeated guitar riffs all backing a nursery-rhyme message of conformity. And a characteristic rose-tinted philosophy. comes through in most of their other songs such as "Bubble Gum World”, "Happy Little Teardrops" and “Magic Windmill”. Bubblegum is conscious of its genre. If Peter Wpllen ever turned his attention to rock music, bubblegum would have to be his first research area. 1910 Fruitgum

Company's "The Song Song” is completely built upon titles of other bubblegum and related songs in a kindred spirit to "You Can’t Do That”, Nilsson’s pot-pourri of Beatles’ songs. And Bubblegum was never afraid to beg, steal or borrow. The internal borrowings in 1910 Fruitgum Company’s recordings would even make Handel blush. Whither Bubblegum? Is it just a late sixties phenomenon, like psychedelia, these two areas of music are closely inter-related. Perhaps it is a clearly defined musical period, although Dave Laing argues for such British exponents as Jonathan King, Marc Bclan and Sweet. Certainly Abba hit a peak with their “Dum Dum Diddle” and lines such as “You're only smilin’/When you play your violin”. Anyway, viva Bubblegum! Your chewing gum may lose its flavour on the bedpost overnight, but those old bubblegum records that your mother still has kicking around your old wardrobe at home are as fresh as they ever were. If you cleared them out for her she could probably take in a lodger and have some fun herself. William Dart