<< Back 7/31/02 Rock and roll crosses the divide By David Teague If you weren’t paying attention, an important milestone in America’s history might have passed you by earlier this year. Rock and roll music turned 50. One reason this birthday came and went with nary a mention is because not everyone agrees this is its 50th year. Some say it is much older than that. “Rocket 88,” a song by Ike Turner’s Kings of Rhythm, is sometimes called the first rock and roll record and it debuted in 1951, but records urging folks to get up and boogie date back to the 1930s. However, Life magazine chose 1952 as the beginning for the purposes of a special issue it released a few months ago, titled “Rock and Roll at 50,” and since that predates me by about seven years, who am I to second-guess them. In the introduction, Dick Clark (who else?) talks about some key events in 1952 and how they opened the door for this new form of music. In March, deejay and promoter Alan Freed held his Moondog Coronation Ball, the first rock and roll stage show, in Cleveland, Ohio. Not only was it the first rock stage show, but the sight of the first rock riot, when the crowd outside outnumbered the seats available inside. Later that year, producer Sam Phillips started his Sun record label, where Elvis Presley would get his start, in Memphis. In Philadelphia, where Clark was a deejay, a couple of guys named Bob Horn and Lee Stewart started a new show called Bandstand and we all know where it went from there. The original show was supposed to be just a musical film show, but when the kids got bored watching film clips, they got up and started dancing. With at least 50 years behind us, it is interesting to look back on the effects of rock and roll on American culture. For those inclined to think this way, plenty of evidence exists that rock and roll is solely responsible for creating an unprecedented generation gap between parents and adolescents. And there is plenty of evidence to suggest that everything parents feared about rock and roll have become its staples - excessive partying, promiscuity, and drugs. Just watch VH1 on Sunday night and try to find one artist profiled who doesn’t include these three vices, and others, as part of their wild past. Rock also has been the catalyst for some of history’s more troubling events since the 1960s. If Freed’s Moondog Coronation Ball was the first rock and roll riot, there were more frightening riots to come, especially December 3, 1979 when 11 fans were stampeded to death trying to get choice seats at a Who concert in Cincinnati. And who can forget Altamont in 1969, when the Rolling Stones hired a motorcycle gang for security and a man was knifed to death. So, yes, let’s admit it. If people want reasons to hate rock and roll, they can make a list as long as they want. After 50 years, though, it’s time to look at the other side of the story. Not only can rock and roll help avoid a generation gap; it is actually a pretty cool thing for families to enjoy together. I wouldn’t have believed that in 1973 when my dad took me to see Chicago, my first rock and roll show. I don’t think he really wanted to, but I was pretty relentless in my cajoling and none of my friends were old enough to drive. Having started playing a cornet in fifth grade, I was blown away by any music that used horns, particularly Chicago. So he finally agreed and off we went to the Charlotte Coliseum. I don’t remember much about the show, I just remember being self-conscious and feeling sorry for my dad. There we were surrounded by teen-agers and early 20-somethings. The smell of marijuana came from somewhere behind us and beach balls kept sailing through the air. My dad looked as comfortable as he could, resting his feet on the railing in front of us. My only recollection of the music is that the songs were long. It was the early 70s, a time for jamming, and many of the Chicago songs I’d heard on the radio more than tripled in length. And it was loud, even louder than I expected. I think Dad handled it better than I did. He was used to working around loud printing presses so the volume didn’t bother him, but my ears rang all the way home. I don’t remember talking about the show on the way home. He bought me a souvenir program, which I still have, and it was over. He never complained about it, but we never did it again. It wasn’t until 1994 that I realized, rather wistfully, that rock and roll shows could actually be fun for families to do together. My friend Rhonda and I went to see the Rolling Stones on their Voodoo Lounge tour. Allison, my wife, had asked Rhonda to go with me because she wasn’t the least bit interested in shelling out big bucks to watch Mick strut and Keith swagger. (A few weeks later, Rhonda went to see Melissa Etheridge with another married man whose wife couldn’t go. I suggested maybe she should get business cards that read Rhonda’s Rock and Roll Escort Service. Luckily, she still speaks to me.) While we were waiting for the Stones, I was struck by how many people around us were there with their 6- to 10-year-old children and I thought that was really cool. The same had been true months before when Allison and I had seen Paul McCartney, then Paul Simon. Music that had once helped cause the generation gap was now a shared experience. If either of us ever had kids, I told Rhonda, would there be any intergenerational bands left to go see? At the time I didn’t think so. Over the next few years, however, I discovered other ways in which rock and roll music served as a connection between young and old. Not long after my sister Laura graduated from college, she left North Carolina for Cincinnati and that is where she and her husband Steve are raising my niece, Lynnea, who is 15. We only see each other a few times a year, and because of that I’ve missed a lot of her growing up. Since I tend to be an introvert and not prone to chatting on the phone, it has been difficult to keep up with what’s going on in her life and what kinds of things have shaped her the most. But one connection we’ve established is through music. It dates back to when she was three years old and she and I danced to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Love Struck Baby.” Nowadays, its not that we necessarily like the same music — in fact, what we like or dislike has had very little to do with it. But what we have started building on is a mutual desire to hear each other's music and talk about it. It started as kind of a game when she was about nine or 10. When she and her friend Tessa came to visit, they would get out some of their favorite CDs and the adults would get out some of ours and we’d play a Guess the Artist game. They would give us a list of the ones they’d selected and play a bit of a song and we’d have to try to guess who it was on their list. Then we would give them a list of our music and it would be their turn to guess. Last Thanksgiving, Lynnea and I left the others downstairs and took our CDs upstairs. I played her everything from Chuck Berry and Three Dog Night to blues and jazz artists. The only band I remember she played was a punk group named Rancid. I couldn’t understand any of the words but it was her music and that was cool. But the best experience came in June when my wistful wish from the 1994 Stones concert came true. We took my four-year-old son, Adam, to his first rock concert. I hadn’t really planned on taking him this early; it just worked out that way. Back in the spring I was playing a Chicago CD when I picked him up from day care. The song was “Beginnings,” and Adam asked who it was. He could already sing The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” and a few other pop songs, but “Beginnings” seemed to really grab him. For weeks after that, he’d ask for the song most every time we were in the car and it wasn’t long before I could hear him singing the “whoa-whoa-whoa” part. Before he remembered the song’s name, he called it the “who-whoa” song. When I found out Chicago was coming to Charlotte, we decided to go. Maybe one reason it was easy to take Adam is because concert venues are a lot more fun nowadays. In the old Charlotte Coliseum, the air quickly filled with smoke and it was easy to feel choked and claustrophobic. Now concerts are in outdoor amphitheaters. We laid our blanket on the lawn and when we weren’t watching the stage, we watched the sky for planes or looked at stars. Adam did great. When a new song began, he’d turn to me and ask, “What’s this song, Daddy?” and, of course, I knew all the titles by heart. When the guitar riff for “Beginnings’ started, he knew it immediately and looked up at me with a huge grin on his face and his eyes open wide. It was a great moment. Now, the fact that rock and roll is a fun family event doesn’t necessarily mean all the reasons for potential parental friction have gone away. Even before I became a parent, I realized I had crossed a threshold I never thought I’d cross. Sometime in the ’90s, when I was in my 30s, I got to a point where I was more inclined to turn music down, instead of up (except when my wife is out of town for the weekend and I have the house to myself). I also stopped caring about new music because I rarely had time to listen to my old favorites. I tried hard not to express this change as a condemnation of new music, but I have to admit some of the “in my day, music was good” sentiment crept in. I also became aware of increased parental-type anxiety when new, bizarre acts like Marilyn Manson, started grabbing headlines. One day, when I was having lunch with some friends at The Enterprise Mountaineer, a co-worker wearing a Marilyn Manson T-shirt walked through the room, so I asked my friends if we as parents were more worried that kids today liked Manson than our parents were that our generation liked Alice Cooper or Kiss. I don’t think we reached consensus, but my answer was no. In each generation, there have been musicians that delved into the weird (even among classical musicians) and while each entertainer may push the envelope a bit, I don't think any end up being more corruptive on society than their predecessors. I don’t know how the rock establishment feels about the state of rock and roll these days and how it’s holding up after 50 years. Often it seems like the raucous, bad boy image is the only image they value. That might explain why a group like Aerosmith (nothing wrong with them; I like their stuff a lot) gets inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, while Chicago, who has toured every year for 35 years and is second only to the Beach Boys in record sales, keeps getting passed over. Like other human institutions, I guess rock has its high and low moments. But I’ve had my rock and roll fantasy, and it was fine. As Clark points out in his Life introduction, rock and roll, in terms of lineage and influence, has stayed on top longer than any other art form. Maybe the next 50 years will be as much fun as the first. I think its OK now for Beethoven to roll on back over and tell Tchaikovsky this news — rock and roll is here to stay. If you can’t rest in harmony with it, at least rest in peace. (David Teague is a free-lance writer and editor who makes his home in Waynesville. He can be reached at bestteague@aol.com)