Lux!!!

I'm always a little dubious of blogs containing deep thoughts, but I woke up this (Saturday!!) morning at 5:00 thinking of Lux Interior. There have been a slew of passings lately - John Martyn, Mitch Mitchell, etc. - but this one struck me, not because of a profound sense of loss, but because of how much I hated him over the years.

If there has been one constant on the L.A. music scene as long as I can remember, it is the Cramps concert. It seems like every L.A. Weekly I've ever read has a huge picture of some crazed grinning zombie and the announcement of the Cramps playing at the Whiskey, or the Troubadour, or, lately, the Smell. And every time I saw one, it would remind me of what bugs me about music as much as anything - the triumph of the image over the music itself.

Of course this bugs a lot of people, and it may seem weird to focus this hatred on such a small-time band in the world of the Jonas Brothers. But there was something different about the Cramps. In my mind, what they always represented more than any other band, was the absolute contempt for what is, to me, the best thing about music: melody.

It's kind of embarrassing to admit, actually. Coming up through the attitude of punk and new wave. and then post-punk and into folk, there always seemed to be an understanding that the music is about something deeper than it's individual notes. And of course it is - anger, alienation, love, fun, sadness, craziness. But, what I have always, really, worshiped, is a great melodic line. The absolute perfection of "Johnny B. Goode" - try changing a note. The sublime "Strawberry Fields" and "Our House" (CSNY, not Madness, although that's not bad either). Straight to Hell - so good that it was almost ignored then, and is a big part of what is defining our era now (who knows this?), the amazingly intelligent "Free Man in Paris", the truly ridiculously amazing "Dancing Queen" - we watched Mamma Mia last night and how happy that crazy Swede must have been. God Only Knows.

Beethoven called melody, "the most noble aspect of music." Praise the Lord for rhythm, and you better write something deeper than, "Friday night and the lights are low," eventually, but it's the melody for me. John Lennon may or may not sit higher at the table than Paul Mccartney, but Kurt Cobain doesn't (it's all personal). Above all, it's the upward sweep: "But Johnny didn't care...", "Write you a letter tomorrow...", Garcia's Bird Song, Beethoven's 9th. Putting whatever gets you through the night into a few notes that rise up to Heaven.

Over the years, there have been plenty who, through whatever combination of some talent, looks, and persistence have made fortunes with a handful of mediocre melodies. The Britneys of the world. The lack of grace of , "Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand." That last note - the third of the sub-dominant chord - like sitting on an over-ripe tomato. Put a Ring On it and I'm out.

But the Cramps were different. They seemed to me to have a contempt for melody. A need to overcome it by attitude, volume, and Halloween. Poison Ivy wailing away like Chuck Berry with no Maybelline. I'm sure that it's not just an L.A. thing, but it kind of seemed like it. The Germs were the same way, and I see the same thing going into La Luz de Jesus and seeing for the billionth some artist substituting quasi-Day of the Dead weirdness for an ability to draw. Grump grump grump.

Anyway, the boys are up now and I don't wish Lux any badness. They were an L.A. band, and God bless us all. But Holmes had his sadness after Reichenbach Falls, and sometimes you just want to get things down. so there it is. I hope you all have a great weekend.

Peace & Love,

Patrick