Ah, content– you capricious minx. As this is not a political blog, but its author is caught in the depraved frenzy of election binging, things have been a little dry I’ll grant. But do not despair, gentle readers! I have a wealth of ingenious and world-shattering musings to share once I find the time to author my thoughts with something we might charitably call elegance.

In the meantime consider the following observation courtesy of Richard Fannan in the May 11, 1968 issue Rolling Stone:

“The other day I flashed on an album that should but never will be released, and album combining the greatest hits of the Ronnettes [sic] with the greatest hits of the Shangri-las, the two most unbelievable rock groups that ever existed. They were the archetypes of a significant part of America at that time. They were the tough, whorish females of the lower class, female Hell’s Angels who had about them an aura of brazen sex. The Ronnettes were Negro-Puerto Rican hooker types with long black hair and skin tight dresses revealing their well-shaped but not quite Tina Turner behinds. And their songs, “Do I Love You,” “Da Doo Ron Ron,” and the rest were not about holding hands in the park, not about puppy love, but about sex…

[on the Shangri-Las] Dirtier and filthier than Ronnettes and girlie magazines, this is stag movies about fellatio and Hell’s Angel’s branding their women. It’s everything we deplore and idolize. It’s the new car and the new stove, Mr. and Mrs. John Doe in the back seat of his car while they were going together in high school. All-American kid trying to feel his date’s breasts during the drive-in movie while Ben Hur or The Ten Commandments is playing. It’s high school when they get knocked up. It’s sex in America.

So now we have Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix doing the same stuff but how come Mama Cass isn’t shaking it down and inviting people in? How come Grace Slick and Janis Joplin really aren’t that sexy? And how come Nancy Sinatra, who comes out of nowhere music, is? What is going on when it’s Mick Jagger, instead of Marianne Faithful [sic], who sings “Let’s Spend the Night Together”? What would happen if Grace Slick starred in a stag movie? Then would everything be alright? Who’s better in bed, Tina Turner, Janis Joplin or Brenda Lee? Is there a female equivalent to “fag rock”? Have you ever seen Little Eva naked? The answers to the above questions just may be important.”

I’m not in complete disagreement with Fannan– rock ‘n’ roll means sex. That’s the heart and soul (or should I say T and A?) of the matter. The answers to the above questions may well be important, but the reason they’re asked, and the way in which Fannan asks them might have something to do with the revelation he seeks.

I’ll leave you with one of the Shangri-Las’ “Out In the Street”. Their gothic extravagance is not quite what I would call “whorish”, but “everything we deplore and idolize”? Yes, indeed.

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