Customer Reviews

Rock 'Til You Drop: The Decline from Rebellion to Nostalgia

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I read "Rock Til You Drop" initially with some degree of amusement. Nobody enjoys a boomer rant more than me, and Mr. Strausbaugh equals author Joe Queenan ("Balsamic Dreams" available on Amazon) in his disdain for the lamness of boomers everywhere. But after finishing the book and considering it for a while, I realized that I never quite "got" what Mr. Strausbaugh would rather have us listen to.

True, "colostomy rockers" as he puts it, are pathetic caracatures of thier former selves. True, dopes like the the Jefferson Airplane and the Rolling Stones screamed revolution and then became the very thing they "rebeled" against (Did it really require a whole chapter for this foregone conclusion?). But Mr. Strausbaugh's blatant dismissal of the importance and influence of people like David Bowie is just plain incorrect.

Rock music is art. Yes, in the truest sense of the word, it is "white R&B" or electrified blues. But many people listen to and create "rock music" for reasons other than to rebel or to espouse some youthful rantings.

I would challenge Mr. Strausbaugh as to why we can't just enjoy rock music for the fun of it? For those who want to merely appreciate rock songs because they are pleasing to listen to, are catchy, and make us feel good, the message is often secondary. (Perhaps there needs to be a really good definition of "rock music" because perhaps some artists have been incorrectly identified as such).

As for being too old, there are mountains of great bands making music currently, especially on the indie scene. But there are also some long established artists such as Peter Gabriel, The Flaming Lips, The Jayhawks, Neil Finn, Elliot Smith, Robert Pollard and Guided by Voices, and yes, David Bowie, to name a few, who continue to make fresh, vital contributions to "rock" music's arsenal. Many of these people are in their mid-forties and fifties and have never stopped making great music.

I agree with Mr. Strausbaugh; there is nothing more comical or irrelavant than another CSN&Y reunion; nothing more ridiculous than watching the Eagles limp through yet another rendition of "Peaceful Easy Feelin;" nothing more ludicrous than the current state of Keef. But there is plenty of new ground being broken by artists who have fresh ideas and heads full of catchy pop songs. And more of them are being born every day.

Mr. Strausbaugh needs to lighten up a little--what took a whole book to say would have made a great essay, or even an article in "Harper's" or "The Atlantic" if he wanted to stay away from rags like "Rolling Stone" (whose pathetic state of affairs I couldn't agree more on). He even looks angry on the back flap--like he's someone who stopped having fun long ago. And who wants to do that? That's what the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is for.

Rock is dead. Long live rock.

You've got to love the book for no other reason than finally, finally someone is willing to say that Lenny Kravitz is 'the lamest rockstar of all time'.

This book is not a balanced, well-thought, and comprehensive argument, nor is it meant to be. It is the voice of an angry fan writing about music he obviously cares about. This is not a scientific study, it is unfair and impulsive and energetic, just like the music. There is no doubt that you'll disagree with some of what he is saying, and sometimes Strausbaugh seems determined to incite the readers for no other reason than promote argument (he never makes a great case for the 'Rock should End at Age 30' proclamation beyond citing a lot of rockers who, indeed, should have stopped at age 30). There are also some huge omissions (I don't believe Bob Dylan is mentioned even once) that he would have had a difficult time explaining away with his argument.

The most convincing writing is when he vents on institutions like the Stones and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that are generally, weirdly, beyond reproach by the popular press. I have myself always felt that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was the death knell for the joy and rebellion that rock music had inspired and promoted, and I've always been surprised that so many bands and performers that I otherwise held in esteem would buy in wholesale to such crassly commercial venture. Even Mr. "The Note's for You" Neil Young wouldn't dare criticize the place too fiercely. Finally someone has the courage to ask just what the criteria for getting into the Hall of Fame is supposed to be. The chapter when he relates attending a Hall of Fame induction ceremony is excellent and very funny.

On the down side, Strausbaugh concludes this book with a reverent bow to The Fugs. He would like you to believe that somehow they represent the antidote to all the dire Rock Is Dead rhetoric he has been espousing. Unfortunately, this comes off as nothing more than a slightly bizarre homage to some friends of his. I mean, there's no way that anyone is going to believe that a 70 year-old playing "Slum Goddess" or the complete "Peace Wars" is the way Rock and Roll should get old. I don't think there's very many people who think The Fugs had a lot to do with rock anyway.

Still, the book is a kick. It won't change your life and it won't stop Mick from shaking his well-weathered behind, but, as I mentioned, someone finally had the nerve to diss Lenny "Hilfinger" Kravitz.

Maybe Strausbaugh [made] a few diehard Stones fans [mad]. The point he makes is much greater than a mere provocation on the expense of aging rock fans. Mainstream's adaption of the rebel pose, especially in advertising and marketing, did indeed take the wind out of subculture's sails. When the spirit of counterculture becomes a fashionable pose to sell compact cars and dorky pants, whilest the whole generation of baby boomers still claims the authority on youth and pop culture, it's no wonder that nihilism found it's ugly way into today's sub- and counter cultures. "Don't trust anybody over 30" is still a valid battle cry for youth. Today's Mick Jagger is an icon of an era past, just like Sinatra songs still carry the nostalgic aura of the wonderyears just after WW II.

After Strausbaugh very early makes the obvious point that the Stones USED to be good but NOW are bad the book is a rehashing of this tired truism.
You almost feel bad for the guy writing about has-beens at this point in his life instead of discovering new music. Also, anyone who uses the band "Furious George" as a cultural signifier is a joke. Their lead singer writes for the same weekly Strausbaugh works for and once wrote a VERY ugly piece on why women should not be rock musicians.
Use your money to buy the new "White Stripes" or "Oneida"

You'll notice that the dopes who dissed the book are arrogant enough to admit they've never even read it 'and never will.' How's that for the intelligent, well researched 'reader's' opinion?

Strausbaugh not only loves music, but has the acumen and experience as both a rocker and a writer and to put the phenomenon of 'Rock' in perspective. The book deserves to be read as much as 'Rock' deserves its place in history.
Yep -- HISTORY.

Strausbaugh has the wit, experience and intelligence to give the phenomenon of 'rock' it's proper place in history. Yes -- HISTORY. Great while it lasted, but it's over kids. Keep on listening in the privacy of your own home -- you can bet Strausbaugh still does.

Although Strausbaugh makes it clear that he is a music lover, I don't expect he'll make a whole lot of friends on this one. If only more writers had the guts, the wit, the intelligence, the style to make some enemies. Listen to what you will, to what you enjoy -- whatever gets you through the night. But, Strausbaugh is right {by definition} in saying 'nostalgia is the death of rock.' Rock was great. It had its moment. The moment's gone. Move on.

Kierkegaard was a bi-polar nutjob, but he said one thing that's true;'Recollection is a discarded garment, which beautiful as it may be, does not fit, for one has outgrown it.' GROW colostomy rockers -- GROW for God's sake or get out of the ... way -- give youth some space for its justified anger. ROCK 'TIL YOU DROP is required reading for shriveled fogie-rockers and their drooping pie-eyed followers -- who apparently have nothing left to live for -- not even their own children. Their children, and in some cases, their children's children, are angry now. Let them rage. And if the colostomy gang can't hack Strausbaugh's brilliant fury, prop their eyelids open with guitar plectra until they've finished reading. Then, let them pound their wrinkled fists into their plumped-up pillows to get back the adrenaline of youth.

What fun! I'm sure there will be many who will take exception to the skewering heaped upon the excess and bloat of the world of rock...but it's soooooo true. Yeah, the Stones haven't made a decent record since Sticky Fingers, but they'll still release another round of drivel, and Mick is still on stage...an embarrassment to all. Is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame unnecessary, full of dreck, cronyism, and a useless effigy? You bet. Do all of the geriatric bands shilling lame versions of classic hits to make a buck on stages in front of audiences that look like an ad for AARP Medicare supplement insurance make you cringe? It should. I actually saw John Lodge of the Moody Blues on stage in leather pants looking like a bad comedy sketch! John Strausbaugh is just fed up, and we all should be...it's distressing to see what's happened. Apart from some political meandering in the mid-section, this book looks rock in the eye and unabashedly smacks it right in the face for letting this happen. We all should take some of the blame for sitting around while the rock music that was so central to our lives sinks into a morass of boy bands. When I was a grad student in the early 70's, I was working on my dissertation and listening to the radio while I typed away. The station kept playing the same cut off a just released album until I finally called the station to register my indignation. This was during the years when you actually could get a call through to the DJ. I could here the sorrow and resignation in his voice as he explained that he no longer had any option to play something other than what their new "music service" dictated. And even though this was the era when albums were still being played on turntables, he couldn't rebel and play a different cut since the station's music director had taken a crayon and marked through every other cut, rendering them unplayable. That's when I knew it was all over. Rock on, John! There are still some of us out there that remember what it used to be like...and found your observations delicious.

I see the point, but there's a bigger point: People do what they do, and like what they like. If the music of your youth was jazz, and you kept playing it into your 80s, no big deal. To expect a rock musician to be any different is unreasonable. A less successful player may appear to the world as an insurance salesman or cop, but he still keeps the weekend gig at the local bar, if he can. Everything new starts as a rebellion. We won, is that bad thing?

Strausbaugh is right on--Rock is a youth movement! It's great that kids are rediscovering all the greats. This book is written by a die-hard rock fan who knows that people are being misled when they spend hundreds to see what once was THE ROLLING STONES (or replace band name with all the old rockers who are still at it). The folks in Strausbaugh's generation lived through that great time--I can't blame them for wanting to go back. But, those of us who missed it all really should watch old footage, "listen" to the music, and have room to break new ground ourselves, without these guys hogging the limelight for $$$$$$$. "Rock" ROCKS!