BLURB: As all music, including good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll, follows suit with the rest of modern society in its headlong plunge into outright oblivion, what can lighten the pall for those of us “living in it after the peak?” Maybe, just maybe, the fix begins with the simple act of cranking up this little ditty, sure to uplift the listener with the proverbial “blazing heat.”

Imagine, if you will, the cool sensibilities of 50’s barbershop doo-wop infused with eruptions of Phil Spector-style Wall of Sound choruses, juxtaposed with lively 80’s inspirational rock in the vein of John Parr’s, St Elmos Fire. Clocking in at over 10 minutes and firing off poignant references to music history including Mozart, The Beach Boys, 60’s girl group splendor, Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, and over-priced Rolling Stones tickets, The Death of Rock n’ Roll makes a herculean effort to be the “ace in the hole” that “saves” rock music from the brink of death. Can an unexpected, odd-metered bridge that calls out a former first lady’s unwillingness to please her husband “under the sheets” and then proceeds to either insult or compliment her son, depending on your definition of “bad-ass, bad-ass man,” possibly be the hand that plays that ace? Let’s hope so, because it’s increasingly apparent that the salvation of Rock n’ Roll cannot be accomplished by the drab likes of the Foo Fighters and their ilk. Bruce Springsteen is President, Bonnie Tyler is the Queen. This is Rock n’ Roll locked in an Anglo-American colonial crystal castle. But it is not ‘guilty’, because it is too remorseful. Its crisp suburban melancholy follows John Cougar out of music and onto the canvas, where the Mandela Effect merges with an altered sense of what cultural history should have been, and may become.
Palpable jesting aside, there are surprisingly tender, nostalgic moments afoot here. In fact, listening to The Death of Rock n’ Roll can sometimes feel like reminiscing on “the one that got away,” reopening old wounds left by she who callously broke your heart and haunts you still. After all, she was, is, and forever will be A GIRL. Beyond its musings on the demise of music, culture, society, and the love that wasn’t to be, this song is a paean to the sad fact that beneath the vast firmament of azure blue, all pure things inevitably decline. Deal with it.

[Track notes]: The Death of Rock n’ Roll began as a silly little, seemingly pointless Bruce Springsteen-style 80’s rock song I wrote in 2003 for no apparent reason. I had completely forgot this song even existed until I dug it out of the archives in 2016 after I moved to Colorado and started work on this record. If you want to hear how insignificant and trite this song seemed initially, check out the original midi demo included in this virtual boxset. When I began to rewrite this song last year (2016) I realized it had some serious potential and I could possibly transform it from trivial to sublime.

This is the only song on the record that embodies the two main themes simultaneously: 1– “the one that got away” (the heartbreak that he just can’t get over and still haunts him to this day), and 2– The Death of Rock n’ Roll (the downfall of music, art, society, culture). The intertwined themes are summed up perfectly by the opening line, “I’ve got an ace in the hole and I’m saving Rock n’ Roll, but I can’t forget the one that got away.” This is the only song on the record that has a decidedly 80’s vibe. I wanted to get an epic 80’s rock sound akin to something like John Parr’s, St. Elmos Fire. Unlike prior I.S.S.tracks that sported an 80’s vibe (ie., Forget About the Girl), I didn’t want this track to be a mere novelty, but rather I wanted it to be heartfelt, sincere, uplifting and resonate with people, like myself, who lament the tattered state of music/art/culture.

The middle section of the song (starting and ending with the lyric “...and he wanted to be rockin’ to the finish line,”) is in the unusual time signature of 9/4. The lyrics to that section were taken from an old improvisation by I.S.S. member, George Smith. The lyrics “...and mama Bush doesn’t even give it up,” don’t really seem to have much to do with the theme of the rest of the song, but to me, it just kind of works! Perhaps the unattainable, mythical anecdote that could “save Rock n’ Roll,” would be something so outrageous and nonsensical.
The Death of Rock n’ Roll, traverses quite a number of genres and sonic landscapes. It begins with a barbershop quintet a cappella vocal harmony, quickly enters into the main verses in 80’s epic rock fashion, goes into a “B section” that rings of straight 60’s Rock n’ Roll (“...there’s a fire on the roof but we’re going at it under the sheets...”),
and ultimately enters a surprisingly tender section (“...headstones, she can’t make her mind up...”) with an emotionally stimulating bass line and vocal melody on the verge of voice cracking, heartbreakingly so.
The first half of the song winds up going from another 80’s rock verse finally to the first chorus (“...I’ve got an ace in the hole and I’m saving Rock n’ Roll...”) where the 80’s instruments suddenly drop out and are usurped by a surprise Phil Spector-style Wall of Sound eruption (baritone sax, castanets, sleigh bells, tambourine, organ, doo-wop backing vocals, glockenspiel, timpani, etc) – an abrupt transition that happens every time the chorus reemerges. The song has a transitional doo-wop part (“...unfeigned love steals over me when I’m fixed on you...”) before diving into the aforementioned odd time bridge (9/4), that would best be categorized as “progressive pop”, and dumps off into the 80’s climax, replete with a patented 80’s reversed-reverb-floor-tom hits on 2 and 4.

The song makes its way back through styles already mentioned and has a false fadeout that ultimately ends up in an outro barbershop quintet section, completing the doo-wop/barbershop bookends of the song. All in all, a 10 minute song that references many facets of music history, embodies the themes of the album, is simultaneously a novelty yet with sincere and moving earnestness.