Talkin’ ‘Bout a Revolution : Beneath a ‘70s mass-sales mentality, rock refound social conscience and artistic purpose

It’s fashionable among pop optimists these days to talk about the 1990s as a time when rock music will again reflect the invention and excitement of the 1960s: a time of bold personalities, daring musical experimentation and renewed social conscience.

Sounds a lot like the ‘80s to me.

Consider the parallels:

* The ‘60s had Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and the Who. The ‘80s had Bruce Springsteen, Prince, Madonna and U2.

* The ‘60s offered soul music. The ‘80s offered rap.

* The ‘60s provided rock fans with a personal, if imperfect, forum in underground radio. The ‘80s gave us MTV.

* The ‘60s celebrated Woodstock and “All You Need Is Love.” The ‘80s rallied around Live Aid and “We Are the World.”

The comparisons are certain to anger traditionalists who feel it is sacrilegious to compare the cultural output of this fading decade with that “Golden Age” of rock, but the difference between the decades was more one of quantity than character.

There were more innovations in the ‘60s, no question. Rock was still in its infancy, which made it possible for dozens of bands to step forward and add meaningfully to the instrumental and thematic literature of the music. In contributing to a virtual explosion of ideas, these bands also benefited from the energy and support of a generation that was absorbed by as intensive a reexamination of national values and priorities as the United States had experienced in nearly a century.

By the ‘70s, the sounds of rock had been largely defined, and the emphasis turned from art to marketing. Record companies and radio programmers, awakened by Woodstock to the potential revenues in the “underground” youth market, stepped away from music that challenged. The new goal was music that would appeal to the widest possible audience, and that meant music that was chiefly passive and conventional. Where terms such as bold and revolutionary had been applied to ‘60s rock, faceless and corporate rock became bywords of the ‘70s.

The first trace of rebellion was found in the British punk movement of the late ‘70s. Rather than view the passion and commentary of the punks as a link with rock’s earliest impulses, the conservative pop community in the United States reacted against the punks much the same way that the record industry reacted against rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘50s. The music was branded loud, crude and gimmicky.

Yet the punk movement had enough effect on a new generation of musicians, here and in Britain, to make these artists think of rock again as a means of expression rather than simply commerce. These musicians, from Elvis Costello and the Pretenders to U2 and Talking Heads, helped rock virtually reinvent itself in the ‘80s--a campaign that operated on several levels.

With much of the sound of rock already defined, many of the most imaginative artists of the decade looked to other cultures for ways to reinvigorate Western pop-rock. Paul Simon’s Grammy-winning “Graceland,” recorded with South African musicians, most clearly documented the creative and commercial values of a more global pop consciousness.

On a different but equally significant front, urban black teen-agers--finding little identification with the established pop channels--came up with the decade’s most dramatic new sound: rap.

For all its faults, video--more specifically, MTV--became a crucial ally in the redefinition of rock. By giving teen-agers their own forum, MTV was the antithesis of the retrogressive “classic rock” radio format, which celebrated rock’s past. While far from perfect, MTV at least enabled young fans to find a new cadre of heroes, including Duran Duran and Boy George. While few of the early acts supported by MTV proved to be important, the 24-hour music channel eventually contributed to a sophistication in the mass pop audience.

MTV’s influence was critical in pushing such key acts as Bruce Springsteen, Prince, U2, Madonna and Guns N’ Roses to superstar status. MTV also helped build acceptance for rap.

But none of these these elements alone was enough to combat the hollow, mass-merchandising mentality that the pop world inherited from the ‘70s. Even now, pop-rock radio is dominated by acts with timid or synthetic visions--from the passive professionalism of Phil Collins and Whitney Houston to the hollow posturing of Bon Jovi and Cinderella to the empty imagination of Milli Vanilli.

But the legacy of a decade invariably rests in the vitality and strength of its best work--not in the disappointments of its most commonplace. And there was a legacy in the ‘80s to treasure, one tied to the passion and purpose of the ‘60s.

Unlike the ‘60s, there was no consensus social issue--such as civil rights or Vietnam--to unify to the young rock audience in a way that caused them to look for spokesmen in music. Indeed, there was an underlying suspicion of anyone who even tried to step forward as a leader.

That made it all the more remarkable that a group of artists did attempt to re-establish principle and ideas as the ideals of rock. Bob Geldof, the leader of the Irish band the Boomtown Rats, formally initiated the Age of Responsibility in rock by putting together an all-star lineup of musicians in London in 1984 to record a single, “Do They Know It’s Christmas.” The proceeds went to famine victims in Ethiopia.

That idea in turn inspired a much larger group of U.S. musicians, including Michael Jackson, Springsteen and Stevie Wonder, to get together the next year in Hollywood for an even more ambitious charity project, “We Are the World.” This momentum continued in the Live Aid and Farm Aid concerts and in Amnesty International’s unprecedented six-week world tour in 1988.

Most importantly, the new power and commitment of rock was echoed in the music of dozens of prized artists--from Springsteen to U2, Tracy Chapman to John Mellencamp, Don Henley to Neil Young, Peter Gabriel to Sting, Simple Minds to Boogie Down Productions, R.E.M. to Metallica, Jackson Browne to Terence Trent D’Arby.

The question can be raised whether all this idealism, vision, passion and provocation made a difference in the ‘80s. Live Aid was just a single day and the starving continues. Farmers remain in financial jeopardy. The cities are ravaged by violence and drugs. The homeless gather nightly within sight of this newspaper office.

But the best of the ‘80s musicians made us face these issues with an insistence that hadn’t been seen in pop music since the ‘60s. Their intent wasn’t always to touch a social nerve, but it was invariably to make us feel alive so that we would question rather than accept. Art, in the end, can only inspire, and these artists lived up to that challenge. Whether to act or not was our responsibility.