The Question of Celebrity Obligation

The Argument is legendary amongst a circle of friends I’ve been lucky enough to know since grade school. We’re all from New Jersey, where arguing is a pastime rather than a friendship-threatening conflict, we’re all very passionate about music, the arts in general, politically several shades of liberal, from far-left to center-left, and The Argument has resurfaced many times over nearly 30 years.

But the instance of The Argument that I remember most vividly took place sometime in the late 1980s, in our favorite pizzeria, Taverna Della Pizzeria in Spotswood, NJ, and it started when someone asserted the opinion that Bob Dylan, over the course of his long, illustrious career, should have leveraged his celebrity more to support important social causes; that he abandoned his activist roots and the legacy of his hero Woody Guthrie to be just another vain rock star celebrity.

This position was strenuously attacked by another from the group, who argued that it is actually oppressive to musicians, actors, dancers, painters, etc., to demand that they have any obligation to anything other than the pursuit of their art; that once you impose any “shoulds” on them you are interfering with the free flow of their creative expression.

Over the years, The Argument expanded beyond Dylan, to include pretty much every other form of celebrity, but when I read this morning that Dylan has authorized the use of his music for a just-released 4-CD set of covers, by 80 artists of 75 of his songs, with proceeds going to Amnesty International, memories of The Argument came rushing back, and I found myself jumping to Bob’s defense.

While it certainly is true that Dylan abruptly abandoned his activism roughly around the time he abandoned purist folk music in the mid 1960s, it is not at all accurate to argue that he abandoned it entirely or forever.

After his famed 1966 motorcycle accident, which I wrote about back in November, and which seemed to wake him up from an intoxicating celebrity binge, the first live appearance he made in twenty months was for a Woody Guthrie memorial concert, clear proof that he still valued the protest tradition. The photo I include here is from three years later, at the 1971 Concert For Bangladesh, later that year he recorded a song mourning the death of Black Panther George Jackson, and four years later he recorded the song Hurricane, a passionate defense of boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter, whom he felt was wrongly imprisoned on murder charges.

In the years since, Dylan has appeared at other benefit concerts, lent his songs to benefit albums, and now we have the Amnesty International collection, which will raise thousands and thousands of badly needed dollars for an essential civil rights advocacy organization.

As for the broader topic, whether or not celebrities have an obligation to use their fame for good, I’m inclined to see valid points from both sides of The Argument. The idea that they need to “give something back” is overly simplistic, and it really doesn’t work, as they’ve already given of themselves via the production of their work. Personally, I treasure the work of artists, much of which has meant so much to me over the years that I can’t imagine a world without it. These are true gifts, regardless of the financial rewards earned by their creators.

Additionally, I do believe that it’s important for creative freedom and development to not put artists into confining boxes, demanding specifics from them, but I do admire artists who do add their voices to worthy causes.

My Life In Film, Continued

As I was writing this morning’s post, wherein I set the record straight that the book and movie titled High Fidelity were actually about me, I had this nagging feeling of déjà vu, a gut notion that I’d written something similar before.

But, I’ve published over 750 posts here at Fish & Bicycles, and I didn’t have the time or patience to browse through them looking for the right one.

Then, a few hours went by, I was browsing my Twitter feed, and I came across this…

…and I clicked on the link provided and within seconds of seeing where I’d landed, at the website of former music journalist and current filmmaker Cameron Crowe, I remembered!

You see, not only was High Fidelity about me, but Cameron Crowe’s 2000 film Almost Famous was about me as well, as I made clear in my December 2009 post titled Six Degrees of Cameron Crowe.

And finally, it all comes full circle, you see, it’s all connected, because what I found on that webpage on Cameron Crowe’s website was his list of the Top Ten Albums of 1973!

(Note: If you haven’t read my post from this morning, titled I Lived High Fidelity Before High Fidelity Was High Fidelity, then you must in order to get the significance of Crowe’s Top Ten list.)

I Lived High Fidelity Before High Fidelity Was High Fidelity!

I mentioned in a post from July 2010 that I love the novel High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, as well as the Stephen Frears film based on the book.

What I didn’t mention then, however, is that long before Nick Hornby wrote his book — including the characters Rob, Dick and Barry, the owner and two employees of a record store, three hardcore music geeks who spend their downtime compiling Top Five lists of albums, songs, opening songs on albums, etc. — I was one of those characters.

While I didn’t work in a record store, it seemed I spent half my life in record stores, and my friends and I, starting in the early 1980s, 15 YEARS before High Fidelity was published, regularly rattled off our Top Five and Top Ten lists to each other, struggling to make the right choices, beating ourselves up or teasing each other over careless, obvious omissions…

It.Was.Heaven!

Well, gulp, 30 plus years later, while we don’t exchange our lists nearly as often, they still spontaneously erupt from time to time, and just last night there was one such eruption. Here now is an excerpt from our discussion, edited for flow and clarity, which took place via text messages and emails, and if this doesn’t remind you of High Fidelity you either didn’t read/see it, or you weren’t paying attention. (BTW, 4708 was an address where we lived together back in 1989 or so.)

Keith: Dear Boys of 4708: If you had the chance to request and listen to front and center one song to be played by Pete Townshend, solo acoustic, what would it be?

Me: One song?! Impossible! Unheard of! Absurd! Instead, here are my Top Five off the top of my head, in no particular order, while retaining the right to add and subtract unlimited times for the rest of my life: 1. The Shout; 2. The Sea Refuses No River; 3. Drowned; 4. Blue Red & Grey; 5. Heart To Hang Onto

(Long pause.)

Me: …6. Keep Me Turning; 7. I Am An Animal; 8. The Seeker; 9. Stop Hurting People; 10. So Sad About Us.

Mike: First of all, Keith and I were talking earlier tonight and your list of Townshend songs blew us away! We were saying that, in the future, we need some warning if you’re going to pull out the big guns like that. I mean, The Sea Refuses No River? Acoustic??? It may be TOO brilliant for my pee-sized brain to comprehend. Pure genius.

If I had to pick one song, right now, off the top of my head, I might pick After The Fire. The Naked Eye would be up there. Oh, and However Much I Booze. And Substitute is high up there as an all-time favorite. It’s hard to beat, “I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth.” It’s lines like that that makes me think maybe all humans aren’t completely fucking horrible.

Keith: One child going nuts, the other not going to bed, but here’s my list: 1. The Kids Are Alright; 2. The Seeker (learned, learned); 3. Imagine A Man; 4. A Quick One (available on YouTube in the attic series); 5. The Sea Refuses No River (or any other Ecclesiastes-Townshend collaborations)

I can also go for Sea and Sand…especially at this point in my life…I don’t remember ever hearing Townshend do a version.

Keep Me Turning…nice call! Vegas didn’t see that one on the list.

Me: What can I say? I’m honored and humbled at the same time.

Mike, Naked Eye is inspired! In fact, I now intend to learn to play that song!

Also, Substitute really does hold up in a big, big way. I think of early Beatles songs, classics for sure, but they don’t effect me in nearly the same, deep way that early Who songs do.

Keith: The Naked Eye solo acoustic. Holy Crap. Has it been done? If not, should it be required by law?

Latest headline in the London Times “The Boys of 4708 sue Peter Townshend for not playing The Naked Eye solo Acoustic.”

P.S. I woke up this morning with one thought: How did I forget English Boy?

My apologies.

Me: Keith, I can’t believe I didn’t comment on this last night, so it must be that I was so utterly stunned by your selection that I was left wordless, but…

Imagine A Man?! Absolutely.Brilliant! (BTW, I just wrote that while listening to the version of A Quick One on YouTube that you recommended. Great fun!)

Mike: BTW, Keith, I remember in high school or college you quoting the song Is It In My Head – the line, “I see a man without a problem.” And then you saying, “I want to be a man without a problem.” Ho-ly crap.

You know what? I’m putting that song on my list. My head might explode though if I heard Townshend sing, “I pick up phones and hear my history. I dream of all the calls I miss. I try to number those who love me, and find exactly what the trouble is.”

If you guys need me, I’ll be under the table in a fetal position.

See what I mean?

As a bonus, the following is the song that topped my list, a song that appeared on Townshend’s 1987 album Another Scoop, a compilation of demos and outtakes. This is the last song on Side B of the second record of this two-record LP, it’s a gorgeous meditation on love, with the guitar in some kind of open tuning, there’s a distinct Eastern flavor with all the drone strings droning, and it still gives me chills:

Eyecatchers: Stanley Kubrick’s Photos

I learned something new today about one of my favorite filmmakers, Stanley Kubrick.

Before he became a filmmaker, in the late 1940s he was a photographer for the now-defunct-but-then-popular Look magazine, and his photos are astounding. His gift for composition, and especially perspective, have the effect of capturing the essence of his often off-beat subjects in a raw, complete way that is almost startling, and in some cases uncomfortably voyeuristic.

Looking at his work, you can totally see the genius he would eventually bring to the big screen.

Flavorwire has a good sampling of Kubrick’s New York series, and there are more to see at VandM. I can’t recommend spending time with these images highly enough.

Here are some of my favorites: