Rock And Roll Dreams
Things have gotten twisted. People useta make records to get rich, be stars, for the good of their souls (and ours), even. Now art is imitating journalism, folks entering the rock strata for the sole purpose of being interviewed and written about by their fave hacks. Formerly, a feature in a pop paper was incidental; now it's a goal.
Orange Juice just told my flatmate Robertson: "We were naive...we actually formed all our ideas from reading Paul Morley articles," but old Sandyboy was too protective of them to print it. Now McCullough wants to write about "a heavy metal band" (any one), and doesn't listen to the Costello album unless he gets to review it, and slags me off his singles page. The hacks have become the careerist stars and it's got to stop, because it's perverting the course of rock 'n' roll.
Weeelll...what I'm trying to say is here is one man who isn't wearing a long raincoat, who takes chances (Wagner and expanded pop!?), who isn't afraid to use the words 'rock 'n' roll' in his titles...A man who will pull Excalibur from the stone. He's necessary, funky, "Every golden nugget comin' like a gift of the Gods," shake and pop, the radio man. Who will save you now, Earthlings? Forget Meat Loaf. Jim Steinman wields the ax that cuts away the disease, and pop creativity is back...not with a whimper, but with a BANG!!!