At the age of 47, I have bought my first rock video.
This astounds me as much as if I had bought my first South Miami Midget Jai Alai Championships video. But, thanks to a smashingly delicieuse young rock singer named Belinda Carlisle, it`s true. Somehow, rock music seems at last to be on the verge of becoming tasteful, even Truly Tasteful.
`Twas not ever thus. Since it first intruded itself upon world civilization more than 30 years ago, rock has been the epitome of all that is vulgar, coarse and low, not to speak of upsetting to the digestive tract. British rock stars may have been accorded all sorts of knighthoods and earldoms–and represent the largest per capita ownership of Rolls-Royce automobiles–but the ”concerts” of Mick Jagger or the Sex Pistols far surpass any hell Dante ever imagined.
In fact, in that Golden Age of America known as the 1950s, nice people had nothing to do with rock and roll. I think Elvis Presley was world famous for two years before I first learned who he was. I recall being turned down for a date by a girl from the ”rock” side of the tracks because I outraged her by thinking that the Everly Brothers ran a local filling station.
LEATHER AND FLANNEL
The dreadful 1950s revivals of recent years depict a time of greasy hair, blue jeans, leather jackets, chopped and lowered hot rods and constantly throbbing electric guitars. There was a large segment of the population that instead wore khakis or gray flannels, button-down Ivy League shirts, loafers or white bucks and sportcoats. It drove MG-TDs or MGAs and swung to the beat of the Kingston Trio, the Limelighters, Louis Armstrong and–if it was really feeling racy–Patti Paige.
Over the years, rock music has found its way into this tasteful world, but only at its most distilled and filtered–which is to say ”Michelle” or
”MacArthur Park” as done by the Thousand and One Violins on ”Beautiful Music” radio stations.
Now, much of the entire rock genre seems about to heave itself into the world of good taste, led by the aforementioned Miss Carlisle.
To be sure, she wasn`t always Truly Tasteful. A onetime cheerleader from tres bourgeois Sherman Oaks, Calif., she was so inspired by the spiritual values of the Velvet Underground that she ran off to La-La (as in L.A.) Land; took up residence in a punk rock neighborhood that was home to the Screamers, the Deadbeats, the Extremes and the Bags; became a prop girl for the Germs;
and eventually joined with four other demure young ladies to form a
”powderpuff punk” group called the Go-Go`s, appearing in Rolling Stone magazine wearing only skimpy skivvies.
FROM DERBIES TO DEBS
But now Belinda has undergone a transformation as wondrous as Nancy Reagan`s metamorphosis from glitter queen to Florence Nightingale. Where once Belinda resembled a one-woman roller derby, she now seems a one-woman Junior League tea. Her hair used to look like it was done with a Waring blender filled with vegetable dye. Now it`s the most impeccably tasteful blond, done in a perfectly decorous pageboy. Having once dressed like one of Conan the Barbarian`s flashier serving girls, she now wears demure little cocktail dresses like those post-debs wear when they first start going to grown-up parties in New York.
Though she still likes to perform in bare feet and her earrings are still a trifle outre, the overall effect is pure Smith College–that is, Smith College backed up by electric guitar.
And her music is just as truly tasteful. I listened to every word of her
”Shot in the Dark,” ”We Got the Beat,” ”Band of Gold” and her hot new hit, ”Mad About You.” Not once did I hear any reference to dismemberment, gynecology or intestinal illness. Toward the end of the video, someone rushed up and handed her a bouquet of roses. True, she didn`t quite know what to do with it–and just sort of dropped it on the stage–but Janis Joplin would have smoked it.
In fact, my wife and two small children watched the video with me and pronounced it rather sweet. As the yuppie generation continues to age and procreate, I can see millions of tasteful Americans doing the same–millions of nice children being told to please go listen to their rock music. They may be sent to classes for rock music lessons. Bruce Springsteen may start wearing a three-piece suit–if it means selling more records.
Though not to me. Buying a rock video once in 47 years is quite enough. I`m not about to go out and acquire an actual rock record. Not even–and perhaps especially–one by the Everly Brothers, whoever they are. —
