ingness to be offensive.nI wonder if rock has ever promulgatednethics that would be acceptable innany world this side of Blade Runner.nRobert Pattison, in The Triiimph ofnVulgarity: Rock Music in the Mirror ofnRomanticism (Oxford University Press;n1987), heatedly argues that rock, thenroots of which he says are Romanticismnand pantheism, “the pervasivenmusic of contemporary vulgarity,” is anform that has always resisted any strictures.nIt has typically defined itself bynmyths that put it outside the statusnquo, even if it is a part of it. There hasnalways been, for example, a closenidentification between rock and bluesnperformers—at least so far as rockncritics and performers are concerned.nTo the rock performer, “the blues artistnshould be an outlaw, living on thenfringes of society, hovering on thenborders of madness, preferably a gambler,nprobably a drunk, certainly a sexnfiend.” In other words, the blues musiciannis very much the person that thenrock musician fancies him or herself tonbe. (Musically, there is a distinct differencenbetween blues and rock, sincenthe former treats the vicissitudes of lifenwith detachment and irony while thenlatter takes itself oh so seriously.)nThe rocker wants to be authentic, anperson living on the edge, even thoughnin order to reach a position of publicnfame he must be packaged like anynother consumer product. There is anwilling suspension of reality by bothnthe performers and the fans as they lustnafter this authenticity. Says Pattison,n”In myth, all rockers are lower class.”nBruce Springsteen usually wearsnclothes that most of us would havenlong ago turned into washrags. Evennthe Boss’s duds for the Rock and RollnHall of Fame induction ceremony hadna certain aura of chintziness. Yet anythingnbetter would compromise hisnearthiness.nPattison might argue that rockersnhave always been rebels without causes,nbut there are several examples thatnindicate that once upon a time, certainnnormative behaviors were recognized,neven by the young. But now, as thenrock musicians have become morenpowerful, they have also become fascistic.nWhile they break rules, theynimmediately decree their own, seeminglynincontrovertible, laws. It’s thenrighteousness of anarchy.nTwo illustrations: One of the biggestnareas of change is in attitude towardnrudimentary regulations, such as thenFourth Commandment. In 1964, thenBeach Boys’ “Fun, Fun, Fun” told of anyoung lady who disobeyed her father;nshe went cruising the hamburger standnwhen she was supposed to be studyingnat the library. Punishment was metednout to the girl. Note well that then”Fun, Fun, Fun” is not what she hadnhad but what the singer anticipatesn”now that daddy took the T-Birdnaway.”nNow by way of comparison we cannjump ahead to Madonna’s recent hitn”Poppa, Don’t Preach,” in which thenyoung lady has gone out and got herselfnpregnant. (Obviously she didn’tnlisten to Diana Ross and the Supremesndoing “Love Child.”) The point is, thenpregnant young lady, while admittingn”I’m in trouble deep,” tells her fathernin no uncertain terms that she is keepingnthe baby. From an ethical standpointnher decision is laudable, but hernadmission of what in another timenwould be called “guilt” is actuallynpresented as a challenge.nAnd what about work? With recordnlist prices at $9.99 and above, prestressednclothing at a premium, andnthe criminally high prices of bad habits,nmaking a few bucks should be ofnmaterial interest to rock fans. Worknreceived more attention in the past. Itnwas virtually impossible for any teenagernto miss the Silhouettes’ messagenin their proto-rap classic, “Get a Job”n(1958) — teen work has never beennunequivocally celebrated. After all,nthe basic thrust of rock music is havingna good time. But work was once seennas a necessary evil and accepted, as innEddie Cochran’s 1957 hit, “SummertimenBlues” (resurrected during thenpsychedelic era by Blue Cheer, and anfew years later by what was once Britain’snworking-class band. The Who).nAs “Summertime Blues” explains thenfacts of life: “My mama and poppa toldnme son, / You’ve got to earn somenmoney / If you wanna use the car to gondriving next Sunday.” Note the quaintnidea that one would wait until thenweekend to go for a pleasure drive.nToday, Sammy Hagar, present leadnsinger of Van Halen, screams thatnhe can’t “drive 55,” and he doesn’tnmean that he’s promoting a highwaynbill.nnnWork remained an acceptable thingnto do even in the 70’s. The AveragenWhite Band had “work to do.” (Thenbackground vocal repeated “work . . .nwork.”) Compare that to the backgroundn”we’re talking about money,nmoney” in the recent hit single bynSimply Red, “Money’s Too Tight (TonMention),” which laments the tragicnfate of someone unable to get a loan orna government handout. But the songnthat describes the present antiworknsentiment best is Todd Rundgren’sn”Bang the Drum All Day”: “I Don’tnwant to work / I want to bang on thendrum all day.”nIf there is anything disturbing aboutnall this, it’s not that the performers arengetting increasingly raucous. That innitself is insignificant. What is hard tonstomach, however, is the multimillionndollar industry that celebrates parasitism.nDuring the so-called revolutionarynperiod of the 60’s, some peoplenexpressed concern about record companiesnreleasing albums such as JeffersonnAirplane’s Volunteers, which isnessentially a call to arms against thenestablishment (of which Starship, thencurrent manifestation of the Airplane,nis now a commercial cog). There wasnlittle danger from such infantile politicalngrandstanding. Today, many ofnthose who spent their teen years listeningnto that music are making theirnmark on Wall Street and elsewhere:nThey are squeezing everything theyncan — and then some — out of thenSystem.nBut the music on the currentnairwaves—which no one gets upsetnabout unless they discover some grotesquensexual image (e.g., the chainsawncodpiece illustrated on the covernof an album by Wasp, a group that wasnvirtually unheard of until the Parents’nMusic Resource Center started worryingnabout it)—is actually more distortingnthan anything that has come before.nIt is not so much the music ofninfantile rebellion — which was badnenough—as it is the anthem of mindless,njoyless, effortless titillation. Youncan reform a rebel and make a man ofnhim; I’m not sure what can be donenwith the vermin whose vibrissae throbnto the music of the Beastie Boys.nGary Vasilash is presently holding outnagainst Lionel Richie.nAUGUST 1987 / 43n