The Great Rock n Roll Swindle

Oscar Wilde had it, Peter Cook had it. Do you have it?
Do you embody the spirit of rock n roll? Are you rock n roll itself personified? I doubt it.

Come on. You can wish, you can hope, and you can think of all the ‘could have beens’ - oh if only life had thrown me such and such a card - but most of all you can get real.

Not many have it, few come close to touching it, and it’s not coming to a person near you; not ever. That is, unless you are an extremely lucky or unfortunate bastard-of-a-bitch from hell. It’s a rare and beautiful thing and, whilst flirting with the idea of extinction, it infects few.

Out of all the rock and roll contenders, how many REALLY have it, once had it, or accidently lost it somewhere along the way? Forget the nearly, and contemplate the really.

We’re all aware of it. Most of us are enchanted by it. Those of us with half a brain know that, in its truest form, it’s the path of a great mind to ultimate self-destruction. But think of all the dazzling moments of sheer genius along the way. We LOVE it. We love what it achieves, and what it achieves against all the odds. Its hosts are completely and utterly fucked, fucked up, fucked off and brilliant.

How many people aspire to it; as a teenage dream or as an adult failure? A never ending supply of wannabes will eternally opt for certain lifestyles, career paths or social circles in a quest for it. Ultimately, they will fail. You either have it or you don’t. It’s as simple as that.

The Twang; they don’t. Kasabian; they don’t. Bono; he wishes.

Give up, find your own kind of cool, or become a twat. Did I mention Bono?

So, who does have it? Or should I say; who did have it? Well, Jimi Hendrix did. But, what about all those other self-destructive dead rock stars? Did they have it too?

Firstly, and most importantly, Kurt Cobain was a wannabe; he tried and failed, and then in death succeeded under false pretences. Every knowledgeable person over 14 knows that. Don’t believe the hype.

John Lennon came close, but he lacked both the grit and vulnerability.

Jim Morrison? Well, I think we may have a second contender; the hedonistic soul searching poet, no longer in residence. I’m not a great Hendrix or Morrison fan, but you’ve got to hand it to them; they were definitely infected. Even I won’t deny that. Two men absolutely committed to their art and to getting completely fucked out of their libertarian minds.

Shaun Ryder? Think about it. He’s an incredibly creative writer and he’s probably taken more drugs than Hendrix, Cobain and Morrison put together. He’s lived in a pleasure-seeking whirlwind and perhaps made the mistake of coming out of it alive. So why do we have to question his place? Where does he fall down? Probably all over the place. That’s part of the problem. Doesn’t the spirit of rock and roll provide for a certain graceful vulnerability in its victims? Sorry Shaun, you’re out.

So what we’re looking for is a liberated, outspoken, creative, talented, vulnerable rock star, inclined towards a life of substance abuse, and harbouring an emotional cavalcade of elation, futility and torment. Please step forward the one and only Ms Janis Joplin. That is, if you’re not too high to take a simple step or two.

Jimi, Janis and Jim: three completely infected motherfuckers who took the spirit in, took the spirit on, and died. All of them aged just 27 years old (oh the cliché it’s become). Yes, some 36 years ago. How long does the rock and rock spirit need to reform and find a suitable person with musical talent to infect? Cooo-eeeee. Where are you?

Has Keith Richardson been carrying the flag for all these years alone; just waiting for somebody – oh just anybody - to take hold of the baton and to allow him to overdose and die? He certainly lacks the depth and creativity to be a contender alone, but he could be a carrier. Or did the spirit of rock and roll give up on infecting musicians forever in 1971? Really?

It must have been a lonely world for Peter Cook.

Perhaps he took some solace in Bill Hicks; a wannabe that came so very close to cracking the code. Any closer and there would have been a revolution. A short one, ending with multiple drug overdoses, suicides and rehab.

What about living comedians; is the spirit still travelling around on the comedy circuit, waiting to find a musician that matches up to its person spec? Noel Fielding, for instance? Who’s more rock and roll than Noel? Who has more spirit? Could he be the one? No. Sorry Noel. Your scripted life lacks the extreme misery and levels of unbridled abandonment that’s required. An infected soul likes to parade its murky mutilated depths, not prance around in sequins with an ever enduring smile.

Where Noel falls, does Russell Brand stand up? A former heroin addict and alcoholic; he’s been arrested eleven times and he oozes cool. With hair from the rock and roll factory of limited editions, a pseudo-Dickensian Cockney character and the word smithery of an urchin poet, does he make the grade? Or is he just way too shallow and another media lovie pretender? I mean, the rock n spirit, Big Brother. No.

But then, I wouldn’t like to prejudge.

I’m seeing Russell tonight. May be I should ask.

Pete Doherty. Amy Winehouse. Do we actually have real contenders? Shhh. Don’t scare the spirit of rock n roll away; just in case. It’s been gone for so long. Please don’t spoil it. Drug overdoses and suicides. Who needs them? Let’s pretend it’s with Russell and Russell alone, even if it is isn’t at all. And I'm pretty damn sure it isn't. Well done on the rehab Mr Funny Man. Well done. Keep up the good work and take care of you know what.