With every movement - religion, ecology, the Republican party - there exists dogma: third rails of thought that you simply do not touch. Music is no exception, especially if you are a musician, but I've lived the lies long enough (actually, not that long which may be part of the reason for my position). Herein lies my confession: I just don't get why these are such a big deal.
I'm sure there are musicians I revere that others scratch their heads at: The Grateful Dead, Frank Zappa, The Shaggs (especially The Shaggs) to name a few, but crane my neck as I may, I fail to see how the following wormed their way to the top of their respective pedestals:
The Velvet Underground:
By all rights I should dig VU. I love Lou Reed. I dig what I've heard from John Cale. Was Sterling Morrison such a drag on their talents? Brian Eno made the comment that though their first album sold only 30,000 copies, "everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band." I suspect that act was immediately preceded by the thought, "I can do better than that."
"Exile on Main Street":
Ranked 7th on Rolling Stone Magazine's All-time Greatest Album list. Why?? It's just another goddamn Rolling Stones album. There's what, 853 of the them? I guarantee you, if I put my car radio on 'seek' I'll find a Rolling Stones song playing at this moment in every metropolitan area in the US.
I may suffer from the handicap that I was too young to have this come out at a meaningful 'coming of age' moment in my life. I did not hear the whole album in one sitting until my 50s, but #7? All-time? Get real. I can name seven Van Morrison albums better than Exile. Hell, I can probably name seven better Steve Earle albums.
Django Reinhardt:
Tom Moon, how could you lead me astray? I'm into Volume 4(!) of Reinhardt's complete recordings. In a word: boring. This may be why non-jazzbos hate jazz.
Before Les Paul hit the scene (and, for many, after) this guy was the guitarist's guitarist. His sound is the touchstone for serious jazz guitarists (and non-guitarists), but I am praying there is no Volume 5. Maybe it's the boom-chick rhythm on every song, maybe it's invariant tone (granted, dictated by the recording technology of the time), but the guy sounds like his total career was a one day marathon recording session of the pop tunes of the day, each separated only by Reinhardt shouting "Next!".
Technically perfect guitarist - oui. Embodiment, if not creator, of the quintessential inter-war jazz sound - certainment. Musically interesting - alas, non.
There you have it. Ready for your rotten tomatoes.
