Bad rock lyrics, volume 2:

This week: Stevie Nicks "Edge Of Seventeen"

In case you were born and raised on an island where music was forbidden, here is a quick history lesson: Stevie Nicks is a blonde new-age gypsy woman, who looks a bit like your mom's hairdresser, and who is considered by some to be the frontwoman for the classic rock band Fleetwood Mac. I say "by some" because I defenitely don't see her that way - the band had been around for almost ten years before she joined, and even while she *was* in the group there were two other singer/songwriters in the band, who actually contributed far more songs than her.

I'm not sure where this assumption that Nicks was the group leader has come from. Perhaps casual fans noticed that she was the only member who couldn't play an instrument, and figured it would be nicer to consider her "lead singer" as opposed to the more realistic "backing singer, who sings a tune on her own now and then." Or perhaps it's just that her songs were more popular - although to be honest, I can't fathom why anyone would choose ridiculous teen poetry like "Landslide" over her bandmate's perfectly inoffensive pop songs ("Don't Stop," "Go Your Own Way," "You Make Loving Fun"). Also, I've always kind of been under the impression that Nicks just kind of made up lyrics to go over jams by the rest of the group (which explains the repetetive chord progressions that mark almost every one of her tunes), and that she never bothered to write second drafts of her lyrics (which explains such awkward and clumsy lines as "I took my love, and I took it down/I climbed a mountain and I turned around.")

But while I could write a whole novel on the overratedness of Nick's F.M. material, I think that there are much worse songs which I can direct this energy towards. For example, "Edge Of Seventeen," her big hit solo song from 1981. The music for the song is really nothing terrible... it's got one of those "chug-a-chug," "Eye Of The Tiger" type guitar sounds which would have sounded right at home in a montage from a "Rocky" movie. I've always had a thing for disco, and this song has a decent little groove going... however, once Nicks starts with the lyrics is when I give up on any chance of the song being enjoyable. Let's take a look at the chorus:

Just like the white-winged dove
Sings the songs it sounds like she's singing
Oop, baby, oop, baby, oop, baby, oop

I am at a loss of words to express how mind-numbing these lines are to me. But I will try to find some... first of all, it's an incomplete sentence. What is she comparing to "the white winged dove"? What is "just like" it? We never find out, as the rest of the chorus just repeats these lines, rather then finishing them... Also I am particularly confused by the whole "sings the songs it sounds like she's singing" bit. Either that's a doubly redundant way of saying "she sings songs," or its just some extremely sophisticated poetry which I am just too naive to appreciate. Now, these lines would be bad enough on their own. But consider that this section is repeated *fifteen* times throughout the song (counting the fadeout). Most songs only repeat their chorus 3-5 times. Perhaps the repetition is supposed to be "hypnotic" or something. I personally have found it only to inspire violent behavior by the time the song enters its fourth minute.

The lyrics to the verses are no better, take these examples:

But the sea changes colours...
but the sea...
Does not change

Contradictory.

In a flood of tears
That no one really ever heard fall at all

Cliche.

I went today...
Maybe I will go again...
tomorrow

Retarded.

And the days go by....
like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own...
I begin again

Genius! Well, that is what I would say if I were a high school English teacher and those lines had been submitted by an insecure 14-year-old goth kid. Considering that they in fact come from a fully grown woman, I have to instead sit with my initial judgement of "pretentious." Which is a pretty good word for the whole damn song, come to think of it. Or for that matter, the whole damn woman.

(disclaimer: if you are a Stevie Nicks fan, please do not take this essay personally. I am simply expressing my views and am in no way judging you for your musical taste. I am certain that you probably wouldn't like most of my favorite artists, so please don't decide that you hate me just because we don't agree on the level of talent of one hippie lady. Also I kind of like some of her songs on "Tusk," please don't take it bad that I just happen to despise the tunes mentioned here.)

A chorus of singing cats

Possibly as a result of a lack of sleep on my part, I figured I'd try something new. Rather than composing an essay, tonight I will try my hand at some stream of conciousness. It's the "hip" thing to do these days - to abandon all structure and simply write about what is on your mind. And considering the artist responsible for the event which inspired this entry, then a less structured approach seems only fitting.

A friend approached me with an extra ticket to a concert by Cat Power. In case you are unfamiliar with Cat Power, it is in fact *not* a group of cats which have been trained to sing rock songs (as the name implies). Rather it is Chan Marshall, a female singer/songwriter of allegedly dubious mental health, who has been trained to sing rock songs. Not that they really "rock" in any sense of the word - even a standard like the Stones' "Satisfaction" is transformed into an eerie folklike mood piece by Marshall's bizarre performance. I have heard a few records, which I regard as first-rate mood music, but defenitely wondered how entertaining such background music would be in a concert setting.

The first description I heard of Marshall was as "a crazy lady who sings folk songs," and her performance pretty much lived up to that. It was extremely amatuerish, with the sole performer often forgetting the words to her own songs, and in some cases even the music (replacing the expected chords with humorous pounding on the piano or a series of unrelated guitar scales). It's kind of like watching one of your friends mess around and trying to make music. However, if it sounds like I am complaining, I assure you I am not. If any of my friends could evoke the kind of surreal emotion that Miss Marshall is able to, then I would never have to pay to see another concert as long as I live. I wonder if this show has put all of the local drug dealers out of business - Chan's voice itself creates something of an altered state, especially the way it keeps stopping mid-song and then starting the line over. You have to check your brain to make sure your ears aren't skipping.

"It sounds like Dido unplugged."

I overhear this from an (obvious) stranger to the artist, and chuckle. It's interesting to think that, to a lot of people, an artist like Dido is the closest thing to compare Cat Power to. To me the two sound nothing alike, but then I have the privelege of having heard a great many artists who fall somewhere in the middle. I try not to look down on this guy, as he's only making the best comparison possible for him. However it's hard not to go with the flow when I notice at least six other audience members are shooting him dirty looks for saying that.

Chan interrupts herself mid-song to let out a nonsensical "is Christopher Walken *really* running for president?" I wonder if this is true and decide to investigate later.

It turns out that live Cat Power is no less background-oriented than Cat Power on record, so I give up on trying to watch the show and simply close my eyes and relax. I attempt to get some much-delayed an much-needed thinking out of the way, but I can't concentrate. I may as well try to do that while stoned (once again, Chan's voice tends to make one feel a bit out of it). I open my eyes and notice quite a few people around me are doing the same thing - meditating to the mellow music. It makes me feel as if I am in a yoga class. I decide to try people-watching instead.

The first thing I notice? Beautiful women, of course. There are defenitely quite a few lookers out on the floor (and not just the three gals I came with) - and what's more, many of them are quite "my type." Hip and smart-looking girls with unique fashion sense and a bit of attitude, not to mention the obvious good taste in music. There's a curvy redhead leaning against the back wall, a short mousy girl and her well-dressed blonde friend near the door, and two extremely noticable girls who may be lovers (more power to them if that's the case!) standing right next to me. There is a woman who appears attractive from a distance but who, after moving closer to me, appears to be well over 40. The joke is on me. Also, one girl's height and deep voice reveal her to be a transexual - but I must say, the amount of work that has obviously gone into making her a real woman defenitely shows, as she's more conventionally attractive than most of the other girls on the floor (less my type, of course, in more ways than one).

I consider making eye contact with a few of these people (the redhead is my top pick), but stop myself. I gave up the "approach any woman who you may want to date and then do what you can to get her" mentality awhile ago, and while there has been some temptation recently to fall back into my old habits I am thankfully able to resist. I suddenly remember the British girl I made out with at a New Pornographer's show about three or four years ago - and how it later turned out that I was essentially a "substitute" for the opening band's singer, whom this girl seemed intent on becoming a groupie for. While I wouldn't expect any of these girls to treat me as a substitute for Chan Marshall (my hair is too short for me to pass as her), I still think it best to curb myself before I make eye contact with anyone I may regret.

The concert ends suddenly, with Marshall simply putting down the guitar mid-song and walking off stage. It's quite anticlimactic, but I guess it's hard to climax when your music is one step away from being ambient. I realize at this point that half of the crowd has already left. I sadly get the impression that only those who remained actually enjoyed the show. As I walk out I hear a woman trying to defend Chan against her two friends, who seem dissapointed.

"Well, you guys know she's schizophrenic, right?"

I wonder if this is true, or just another rumor, or just something made up to make these friends feel bad for critisizing. I also wonder what these people who left were expecting from the show. I assume they have heard Cat Power before, and that is what the show sounded like, to me. Yes it had bizarre stops in the middle of songs, when Chan was having her panic attacks, but I wonder just how much of that was a result of the singer seeing her "fans" wander out of the room in the middle of her performance. Perhaps there are other Cat Power shows where this is not a problem. And perhaps there are shows where everyone leaves but one or two people. Personally, I think that Chan Marshall seems like a nice (if rather unstable) lady, and even if I hadn't enjoyed the show I would have at least had the good manners to stay and watch her perform for me. As it is I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The last thought going through my head, as I walk back to my car, is that a chorus of singing cats is *defenitely* something that I want to see.