Out-Foxed
KRFX could stand to trim some fat
Eric Clapton: Thanksgiving dinner in musical form
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Yeah, I know I should be blogging about Radio 1190 like every other remotely hip, music-loving person in the Denver/Boulder area. Honestly, though, I spend far more of my free time listening to KRFX 103.5 The Fox. I don't feel the need to defend classic rock at this point in the evolution of popular culture. Aren't we all above that by now? Don't we all love Zeppelin? But I do feel the need to harp on one big problem I have with The Fox: the handful of insanely annoying songs it plays. And plays. And plays.
I realize that no radio playlist is going to make everyone happy all the time. But The Fox is in an unusual position: It's the longest-running classic-rock station in Denver, having just celebrated its 20th anniversary of adopting the format. The station has played the same damn songs over and over for more than two decades—not counting a brief stop in the early-'90s to add The Black Crowes and Metallica to its repertoire. Has it occurred to The Fox that some of these songs just don't work? That not everything is as durable as, say, the catalogues of ELO or Van Halen?
Granted, The Fox is a Clear Channel station. But as draconian as I know Clear Channel is, there's proof that The Fox retains some sort of autonomy. After all, its jocks recently bragged on-air about bucking their corporate masters in order to install a turntable—a turntable, God forbid, in a radio station! And some kind of under-the-table deal has to be going on at KRFX, seeing as how those tired, boring morning-show DJs Lewis and Floorwax are still getting paid to drone on and on for hours every day. (A recent sample of the duo's snappy a.m. dialogue: “Yeah, the troops. Man, we really respect them. We respect what they do. Yeah. We do. The troops, man, the troops.”) At least the syndicated "Nights With Alice Cooper" is still there to keep things real in the p.m.
Of course, I could just listen to KQMT 99.5 The Mountain if I wanted a deeper, more enlightened selection of classic rock. But that's not why I listen to classic rock. I love The Velvet Underground and Elvis Costello as much as the next music snob, but do I want to hear "Sweet Jane" or "Pump It Up" sandwiched between Boston's "Peace Of Mind" and Joe Walsh's "In The City"? Hell, no. I don't even let my iPod get away with that. When I want classic rock, I want CLASSIC ROCK. Plus, The Mountain's peaceful, easy morning DJ Mike Casey just doesn't have the balls to be a real classic-rock jock. I mean, the guy reads emails on-air that were written by irate cranks nitpicking his choice of songs, and what's his response? A warm, Zen-like chuckle and then: "Well, we value your opinion. Thanks for listening!" As much as I've come to loathe Lewis and Floorwax, they'd never put up with that kind of crap.
So basically, I'm stuck on The Fox. What can I say? It's comfort food, pure and simple. That said, here are three hairs that keep popping up in the mashed potatoes—songs The Fox incessantly spins despite the fact that they've long since proved their lameness to the world.
David Essex, “Rock On”
There's one major commandment of classic rock that cannot, shall not be deviated from: Get some goddamn electric guitars up in there. (Unless, of course, you're piano-masters like Elton John or Billy Joel, who get a pass just for being plain awesome.) I think there's a guitar somewhere in "Rock On," David Essex's lone U.S. hit from 1974. But it's swallowed up by some echoey, pretentious, postmodern doo-wop (or whatever the hell it was Essex was going for). "Rock On" is a hideous example of what happens when you let dumb people dabble in high-concept glam. Should've just left it to Bowie, dude.
There's one major commandment of classic rock that cannot, shall not be deviated from: Get some goddamn electric guitars up in there. (Unless, of course, you're piano-masters like Elton John or Billy Joel, who get a pass just for being plain awesome.) I think there's a guitar somewhere in "Rock On," David Essex's lone U.S. hit from 1974. But it's swallowed up by some echoey, pretentious, postmodern doo-wop (or whatever the hell it was Essex was going for). "Rock On" is a hideous example of what happens when you let dumb people dabble in high-concept glam. Should've just left it to Bowie, dude.
Warren Zevon, “Werewolves Of London”
I have to confess: Warren Zevon is one of my glaring blind spots when it comes to the canon of acclaimed singer-songwriters. The reason I've never mustered the gumption to dive into his catalogue? "Werewolves Of London." Every time Zevon's 1978 hit pops up on The Fox (that is, once every half hour), I jump to change the dial; I love three-chord rock with all my heart, but the three chords of "Werewolves" hammer at my brain like woodpeckers. And while I give Zevon props for flipping some clever phrases, his extended funny-slash-scary scenario of rampant British lycanthropy just sounds smug and precious after you've heard it, oh, 300 times. And that werewolf howl? Nope, never need to hear that again.
I have to confess: Warren Zevon is one of my glaring blind spots when it comes to the canon of acclaimed singer-songwriters. The reason I've never mustered the gumption to dive into his catalogue? "Werewolves Of London." Every time Zevon's 1978 hit pops up on The Fox (that is, once every half hour), I jump to change the dial; I love three-chord rock with all my heart, but the three chords of "Werewolves" hammer at my brain like woodpeckers. And while I give Zevon props for flipping some clever phrases, his extended funny-slash-scary scenario of rampant British lycanthropy just sounds smug and precious after you've heard it, oh, 300 times. And that werewolf howl? Nope, never need to hear that again.
Eric Clapton, "Cocaine"
What list of annoyingly overplayed classic-rock songs would be complete without Eric Clapton? The thing is, I don’t hate Clapton as much as a lot of people do. He didn't record much with The Yardbirds before leaving the band, but he still rocked it on "For Your Love." Cream, of course, is mostly untouchable. And his Blind Faith album with Steve Winwood is solid. But 1977's "Cocaine" is a prime example of the Clapton at his lazy worst. For a tune about cocaine, there's surprisingly little energy to it; instead, it sounds like it was written and played under the influence of rhino tranquilizers and a huge Thanksgiving dinner.
What list of annoyingly overplayed classic-rock songs would be complete without Eric Clapton? The thing is, I don’t hate Clapton as much as a lot of people do. He didn't record much with The Yardbirds before leaving the band, but he still rocked it on "For Your Love." Cream, of course, is mostly untouchable. And his Blind Faith album with Steve Winwood is solid. But 1977's "Cocaine" is a prime example of the Clapton at his lazy worst. For a tune about cocaine, there's surprisingly little energy to it; instead, it sounds like it was written and played under the influence of rhino tranquilizers and a huge Thanksgiving dinner.
Like "Rock On" and "Werewolves Of London," "Cocaine" is almost maddeningly one-dimensional. (Equal blame goes to J.J. Cale for writing "Cocaine" in the first place—but then again, he's not the jerk who's been drilling it into my head for the last 30 years.) And maybe that's the main reason I'm so annoyed by these three songs, even though I jump for joy when KRFX plays "Bohemian Rhapsody" five times every day. What makes classic rock awesome is its dynamism, its bombast, its extravagance. Think Queen, Yes, hell, The Beatles—bands that squeezed four or five songs into one. I can listen to that stuff for days on end and not get bored. If I want mind-numbing, repetitive '70s rock, I'll listen to punk. Hmm, speaking of punk... maybe they're playing some over on Radio 1190 right now.
