Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Once there was a young man named Mick or Bob or Robert who became a rock star. Because he was a rock star, hundreds of young women made themselves available sexually to him. He was a young man, only in his early 20s, and he enjoyed this immensely. Understandably, he began to be jaded about women. He wrote songs about the pleasure he took in putting women in their place. The more he did this, the more people loved him, men and women alike. People like someone who seems like they are in charge.

* * *

An earlier singing star named Frank or Bing or Rudy had been equally blessed with female affection, but he did not write his own songs. An unglamorous-looking fellow backstage named Ira or Larry or Hal wrote the songs. He was not so inundated with sexual offers, and he filled his songs with great romantic tenderness and longing. The more he did this, the more people loved Frank or Bing or Rudy. Especially the women, but the men too.

* * *

Once there was a young man who loved music very much. He loved it so much that he wanted to listen to it and write about it all the time. And he had a flair for words, and he got a job listening to and writing about music all the time. Because he was a music critic, hundreds of nubile young bands made themselves musically available to him -- and all for free. Understandably, he became jaded about musicians. Many of them he found unattractive. And even the ones he found attractive, he treated with condescension. Because he could. Because there was always another band. There would always be another musician. And the musician would always come to him for free, no matter how badly he treated them. He could do this because he seemed like he was in charge, and people like someone who seems like they are in charge.

Just for the record, Tin Pan Alley songwriters got laid PLENTY. Maybe not Lorenz Hart, but that's because he was a closeted gay humunculous.

And, the Tin Pan Alley love songs could be very cynical. But not misogynist in the same way as early Dylan or early Stones or early Beatles.
Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?