Three-chord propaganda

IN HONOR OF its 40th anniversary, Rolling Stone recently published interviews with the 20 people who, in its estimation, shaped rock culture. The magazine called it “a family reunion.”

The group portrait is revealing. Everyone is white. There are only two women. All are wealthy. They didn’t die before they got old either. The 20 rock icons have lived an aggregate 1,399 years.

In addition to two Beatles, two Stones and Bob Dylan, the list includes Jack Nicholson, Steven Spielberg, Jimmy Carter, George McGovern and Norman Mailer, reflecting Rolling Stone’s credo that rock is more than music. It is a way of life, a political movement, a worldview and a means of propagating correct values as understood by founding editor (and still chief) Jann Wenner.

Rolling Stone convened the group to tap into its members’ collective wisdom “at a time of profound moral crisis for our country, to define what we stand for in the world.”

Paul McCartney gives it a shot: “It would be great if people with differences in the world today would realize that there are no differences -- it’s an energy field, dude.”

Ringo Starr added his observation that the environment seems to be “turning into a toilet.” His remedy? “All you’ve got to do is choose love. That’s how I live it now ... I can feed the birds in my garden. I can’t feed them all.”

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WENNER IS A LEFTIST and a man of parts -- cultural commissar, social director and master marketer. He and his magazine are largely responsible for transforming rock ‘n’ roll, in the late ‘60s, into “rock.”

Rock ‘n’ roll, in the “American Bandstand” years, belonged to baby boomers of every kind. It was subversive but not political. The music was hated by grown-ups of all political persuasions. Segregationists saw (correctly) that it encouraged race mixing. Church folk understood (also correctly) that it was sexually charged. Liberals thought that it was uncouth -- jazz for simpletons. And the commies hated it because it replaced Joe Hill with Johnny B. Goode.

Most of the early rockers were as apolitical as the League of Women Voters. Those who did have a public political identity tended to the right. Elvis was a Nixon man. James Brown was a proud Republican. Little Richard quit the stage at the height of his stardom and became a born-again preacher. Jerry Lee Lewis was a standard-issue Louisiana good ol’ boy. Even Chuck Berry, who had a love-hate relationship with his country, wrote two-minute paeans to American capitalism.

Rolling Stone and its fellow travelers declared such music trivial, if not counter-revolutionary. It decreed that rock authenticity belonged to guitar bands with long, silky hair and a willingness to assert (or at least not to contradict) the idea that the Vietnam War was the worst imaginable atrocity. Cover after cover was devoted to the likes of John Lennon, Jim Morrison, Frank Zappa, Jerry Garcia and James Taylor.

Generally speaking, black kids didn’t see themselves at this particular party. They had no illusions about Vietnam, but their primary interest was saving (and celebrating) their own skins. James Brown cut “Say it Loud: I’m Black and I’m Proud,” and went to Saigon to entertain the troops. And soul superstar Joe Tex composed one of the great, politically incorrect war ballads of all time: “When I got your letter baby/ I was in a foxhole on my knees/ And your letter brought me so much strength/ I raised up and got me two more enemies.”

Meanwhile, many standard-issue white kids found that they weren’t invited to the Rolling Stone bash either. They turned to country music and stewed. Merle Haggard summed up their resentment: “I’m proud to be an Okie from Muskogee/ A place where even squares can have a ball./ We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,/ And white lightnin’s still the biggest thrill of all.”

The editors of Rolling Stone are not at all apologetic about turning rock ‘n’ roll into three-chord propaganda and laying down a lasting line of generational grievance. On the contrary, they see it as their great accomplishment. Which is why they appeared disconcerted, in recent interviews, by the unwillingness of some family members to follow the script.

Mick Jagger, for example, offered a critique of the war in Iraq that owed more to Brent Scowcroft than Abbie Hoffman. Keith Richards, asked for his views on social change, ventured that it is all a bit confusing these days and steered the conversation to Mozart and Billie Holiday.

Poor Jack Nicholson even admitted that he was “incapable of hating a president of the United States.” This was considered so amazing that the editors displayed the quote prominently in a box.

“We seem to be hellbent on destruction,” Wenner said during his interview with Rolling Stone’s idol-in-chief, Bob Dylan. “Do you worry about global warming?”

To which Dylan replied: “Where’s the global warming? Its freezing in here.”

Bless his rock ‘n’ roll heart.