Welcome To Tony Palmeri's Media Rants! I am a professor of Communication Studies at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh. I use this blog to try to promote critical thinking about mainstream media, establishment politics, and popular culture.
Charlie Watts, legendary drummer for the Rolling Stones, passed away last Tuesday at the age of 80. Other beat keeping pioneers of his era (Keith Moon, John Bonham, Ian Paice, even Ringo Starr) dazzled with drums to the point of sometimes taking over a song. Watts' brilliance was more paradoxical; his reserved style resulted in a powerful percussive presence even as he--on the surface level anyway--seemed to minimize that very presence. While Charlie Watts was always admired by drum geeks, the fact that he spent his entire adult life accompanying the naughty narcissists Mick Jagger and Keith Richards made it easy to overlook his achievements.
Watts was brilliant on just about every Stones' song ever recorded, but I will share just ten that I think best represent his legacy.
#10: Get Off My Cloud. Released in 1965, Get Off My Cloud features Charlie Watts in a bombastic style that blew up AM radio that year. Though not a typical style for him, the aggressive beat ended up influencing much rock and roll of that era.
#9: I Just Want To See His Face. Not one of the Stones' best known songs, I Just Want To See His Face is a gospel inspired tune that started off with Watts and then rhythm guitar player Mick Taylor jamming in the studio.
#8: All Down the Line. One of the Stones' signature rockers, a gritty R & B tune with Chuck Berry style guitars and featuring the kind of Watts drum groove that's probably his most typical snare drum style.
#7: Sympathy For The Devil. One of the greatest rock songs of the 1960s, the kind of tune that helped launch FM radio as a vital space for new music. Fans of the Stones at the time dug the socially conscious lyrics and the eerie South American beat. Thank you Charlie Watts for the latter.
#6: Wild Horses. What always fascinated me about this song was how Mick Jagger could take a trite cliche' ("Wild Horses couldn't drag me away") and sing it with a kind of gravitas and emotional frailty quite opposite of the Stones' norm of macho posturing. Watts' drumming in this tune is a classic example of his "less is more" style. The drums are not "in your face," but if they were not there you would miss them.
#5: One Hit (To The Body). Released in 1986 at a time when Music Television was forcing classic rock bands into retirement, One Hit showed that the Stones could still rock with the best of them. Key to the song's success was Charlie Watts' driving beat.
#4 Miss You. In 1978 disco music was still pretty hot across the US. When I first heard Miss You I thought it was a case of the Stones trying to stay relevant as blues-inspired rock seemed to be on the outs. You can tell that Charlie Watts had been listening to disco records as he certainly has the beat down.
#3: Hot Stuff. The first track on the 1976 "Black and Blue" album, Hot Stuff is an excellent example of why Watts and bassist Bill Wyman were one of the great rhythm sections in the history of popular music. The song has the kind catchy, soulful funk groove that a decade later would dominate the pop charts with the music of artists like Prince and Michael Jackson.
#2. Undercover of the Night. This early MTV era rocker (released in 1983) resulted in what was--at the time--considered to be a controversial video. Watts' drumming in this one has a militaristic vibe to it that is consistent with the political themes of the song.
#1: Honky Tonk Women. Released in 1969, this song features one of the coolest intros in rock history: a brief cowbell ring followed by Charlie Watts' grittiest drumming ever. The lyrics to this song don't hold up very well, especially in the #metoo era, but musically it remains as the most classic example of how the Stones at their best could mix multiple genres and end up with something fresh. Charlie Watt's drumming was always central to that act of mixing.
August 6, 2021 Update: Today's New York Times includes a disturbing piece called "No Work, No Food: Pandemic Deepens Global Hunger" by journalist Christina Goldbaum. She writes in part: "An estimated 270 million people are expected to face potentially life-threatening food shortages this year — compared to 150 million before the pandemic — according to analysis from the World Food Program, the anti-hunger agency of the United Nations. The number of people on the brink of famine, the most severe phase of a hunger crisis, jumped to 41 million people currently from 34 million last year, the analysis showed . . . For years, global hunger has been steadily increasing as poor countries confront crises ranging from armed groups to extreme poverty. At the same time, climate-related droughts and floods have intensified, overwhelming the ability of affected countries to respond before the next disaster hits." Goldbaum's report reinforces one of the major points made in this Media Rants post: that the solution to global hunger must be based on more than the philanthropic, charitable giving model that grew in popularity as a result of the 1985 "Live Aid" concert. --Tony Palmeri
The late Brazilian Archbishop Dom Helder Camara, a rebel inside the Catholic Church because of his outspoken advocacy of Liberation Theology, once famously said, "When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist."
Archbishop Camara understood that giving food to the poor is not as politically risky as asking why the poor have no food. The 1985 Live Aid concert encouraged giving, but did not raise the difficult questions about why global poverty exists.
For everyone except a number of Republicans in gerrymandered districts in the United States Congress and state legislatures, the idea of giving food to the poor is today noncontroversial. But asking why the poor have no food is still a radical act. In fact in pretty much every "First World" city on Earth, what "conservatives" and "liberals" have in common is discomfort with--and usually avoidance of--the "why" question. Both see poverty eradication as primarily an issue of charitable giving. The theory seems to be that if we get enough donations to food pantries, or enough churches to sponsor free meal programs, or even persuade enough national governments to allocate more foreign aid, then we are somehow making significant strides in addressing "food insecurity" (our euphemism for "hunger").
Donating to food pantries and other charities should be encouraged and applauded, and national governments of rich countries should always be pressed to give more to the poor, but if that's ALL we do to address hunger it's a little like wallpapering over cracked walls. Asking why the walls are cracked should lead to a deep investigation of the foundation. Asking why the poor have no food should lead to a deep investigation of the unjust sociopolitical structures that create and enable poverty.
In 1984 BBC journalist Michael Buerk's powerful and disturbing video report on famine in Ethiopia sparked global outrage. Moved by what he saw, Irish singer-songwriter Bob Geldof founded "Band Aid." The hit song "Do They Know It's Christmas" raised awareness and money. In the United States, "USA For Africa" did the same with the song "We Are The World."
Inspired by these efforts, Geldof organized "Live Aid," the iconic 1985 benefit concert that mobilized the star power of bands like Queen, U2, and many others to raise $127 million for famine relief. Live Aid was not the first rock-and-roll benefit concert, but it was the first to take advantage of the possibilities of mass media technology to create a truly global event. To this day Live Aid is the prototype for how to employ star power in the service of mobilizing consumers to support a just cause. But Live Aid's legacy is mixed; it turns out that rock-and-roll saints can't really solve difficult issues of global poverty if they won't raise questions that implicate the establishment sinners they are in partnership with.
To be clear: Bob Geldolf, who also organized Live Aid's 20th anniversary sequel "Live 8," was and is sincerely interested in doing whatever he can to alleviate global poverty. The sincerity of individual actors should NEVER be the major issue for debate on such matters. Rather we should be concerned with more difficult questions; e.g. do benefit concerts actually provide the relief advertised? Is charitable giving actually addressing the real problem? Are such efforts maybe even counterproductive?
In July of 1985 the Star Power of scores of musical artists in England and the United States was mobilized by Bob Geldof to raise money for famine relief in Africa.
"Live Aid" and its sequels were never constructed as anti-establishment events. Participants are urged to open their wallets, not overthrow their governments. If participants are to have any interaction with government at all it should be to--like Saint Bob--get leaders "on board" with relief efforts. Geldof, along with Bono of U2, model this kind of "anti-poverty diplomacy," openly pressing world leaders to provide food aid and debt relief for poor countries.
The most cogent criticism of rock stars as anti-poverty crusaders comes from British journalist George Monbiot. In an insightful 2005 piece called "Bards of the Powerful," Monbiot argues that even though artists like Geldof and Bono should be given credit for raising billions of dollars for relief, they ultimately end up giving legitimacy to those responsible for creating the problem in the first place:
"The two musicians are genuinely committed to the cause of poverty reduction. They have helped secure aid and debt-relief packages worth billions of dollars. They have helped to keep the issue of global poverty on the political agenda. They have mobilised people all over the world. These are astonishing achievements, and it would be stupid to disregard them . . . I understand the game they're playing. They believe that praising the world's most powerful men is more persuasive than criticising them. The problem is that in doing so they turn the political campaign developed by the global justice movement into a philanthropic one. They urge the G8 leaders to do more to help the poor. But they say nothing about ceasing to do harm."
In a 2013 piece, Monbiot quotes from Irish scholar Harry Browne's no-holds-barred book about Bono ("The Frontman"):
Harry Browne's "The Frontman" is a scathing critique of rock star Bono, who like Live Aide founder Bob Geldof believes it is possible to move established powers to support just causes. Browne argues that Bono and similar rock stars end up running interference and providing cover for such powers.
"for nearly three decades as a public figure, Bono has been … amplifying elite discourses, advocating ineffective solutions, patronising the poor and kissing the arses of the rich and powerful. His approach to Africa is a slick mix of traditional missionary and commercial colonialism, in which the poor world exists as a task for the rich world to complete".
For a more humorous take on the rock star savior complex vis a vis the African continent, check out British comedian Russell Brand's 2009 "African Child". In the brilliantly satirical video, quite obviously aimed at virtue signalers like Geldof and Bono, Brand's rock star alter ego Aldous Snow is oblivious to the narcissistic and naive roots of his Africa fixation.
Additional criticisms of Live Aid founder Bob Geldof can be found here.
My own critique of rock benefit concerts centers on what such events have done to the status of rock and roll as a cultural phenomenon. As I have written about previously, for me authentic rock and roll isan anarchic, Africa-inspired, anti-establishment art form perpetually coopted by the forces of tradition. At its most authentic, rock-and-roll has truly transformative impacts. Why? Because authentic rock-and-roll engulfs participants into a culture that liberates them from constraints imposed by tradition and social hierarchy. The racist backlash against rock in the 1950s and 1960s was not a backlash against the music as much as against rock's capacity to spark cross cultural communication, collective action, and unity. At its most authentic, rock really does encourage people to ask "why," in part because rock culture provokes rebellion against hierarchic structures that discourage questioning. Authentic rock-and-roll culture (which does not really exist in a meaningful way anywhere today) is very much like a great classroom seminar: a spirit of questioning, mutual respect, and search for meaning animates the proceedings. That kind of classroom experience is rare, as is authentic rock. But both continue to be possible, even in a cynical digital age.
My frustration with benefit concerts is that they deflate the true spirit of rock culture; instead rock is constructed as a mainstream art form in which the "star power" of artists can be used to raise money for cause(s) that the financial donor may have little to no understanding of. In other words, in benefit concerts rock-and-roll becomes part of a sophisticated propaganda campaign, in which asking "why" plays second fiddle to "doing something." "Doing something" invariably means giving money without much of a care or clue as to where it is going and whether or not it's actually solving the problem that the rock propagandists announce from the stage. Live Aid was kind of like an "ice bucket challenge" in a pre-social media age. Even worse--and this is what Monbiot's and Browne's work is especially good at demonstrating--is how establishment figures like politicians and non-governmental-organization bureaucrats exploit these events to build up their own particular brand.
When people collectively ask "why," we start to get some serious conversations occurring at the street level. From those conversations comes awareness that the most serious problems have structural roots. From that awareness comes organized efforts to dismantle unjust structures. Those organized efforts are called "social movements." "Live Aid" and most other benefit concerts, because they do not emerge from social movements geared toward structural reform, end up reinforcing the flawed belief that real change can somehow come from existing structures. Thus the best we can do is hope that enough well-to-do folks in the "First" world can be compelled to swipe their credit cards for the struggling masses in the "Third" world to provide temporary relief.
Some scholars have framed the celebrity humanitarianism discussed in this post as a case of dividing humanity up into two classes: those who suffer and those who save. That division represents the worst legacy of Live Aid because it deflects attention and resources from education that might actually solve the problem of poverty; that is, an education that teaches the need to be in SOLIDARITY with the struggling masses on all continents.
Authentic rock-and-roll is not an agent of the "savior" class. Unfortunately, that's what establishment centered benefit concerts, corporate media, and even social media platforms have reduced it to. Authentic rock-and-roll is ultimately a vehicle for solidarity.
So as not to end on a pessimistic note, let's at least acknowledge that benefit concerts do leave us with some great musical performances. Live Aid gave us the spectacular reunion of Queen featuring the great Freddie Mercury. We can be thankful for great performances at the same time recognizing the limitations of the event itself. Here's Queen:
