The Decadent Sinful Lyrics of...Spandau Ballet?
One of my friends recently gave me a kick-ass present that she found while cleaning out her attic, a book called "The
Original Rock Music Rating System" by Eric Barger. From what I gathered, Barger was a late 80s/early 90s rock critic turned evangelist of the Hyper-Calvanist "Oh Noes, the Children!" type. I'm fairly sure one of his books was the reason I wasn't allowed to watch Thundercats growing up, but that's a whole 'nother story.
Anyway, in this book Barger and his crack team of researchers pour through albums and interviews a variety of groups from the late 80s so that "parents know exactly what they're buying." Honestly? I don't have much against that idea. In fact, with all the parents that let their kids consume pop culture carte blanche (and ruin my damn movie going experience by taking their four year old to Silent Hill), I think it's a pretty good one. I'm all for sites like
Kids in Mind so that Little Sally doesn't end up in therapy and I end up out $8.
This ratings system, though, has its bags packed for Crazyville. Sure, I can see the merit of telling parents about drug references, cursing, and violence. But when the criteria for "cultic" influences is "glorification or participation" in a non-Christian religion, that's when my warning bells go off. (and I'd almost put money on the fact that the author would consider a lot of mainstream Christan denominations "cultic" too). And is there really a need to rate a band for "surreal fantasy"? I guess one minute you're listening to They Might Be Giants, the next you're mainlining Salvador Dali paintings with dirty needles in an underground arthouse.
That last example is my biggest WTF with this book. I can understand 80s fundie parents railing against Ozzy and Poison and Alice Cooper (even though - big pointing arrow - he's a Christian!), but were enough teenagers listening to the Toy Dolls or Nick Cave to warrant their inclusion?
And seriously? CCR? Devo? For fuck's sake, Bananrama? If your 80s-era crotchfruit commits unspeakable acts against nature or God under the influence of Madness or Camper Von Beethoven, I think you have more to worry about than what the local Ladies Auxillary thinks of your kid's music purchases. And methinks thou doth protest too much if you think your kids' faith is going out the window when they buy a Hall and Oates album.
At any rate, the book is campy good fun. Use it for a fun party conversation starter or, for the more sadistic, apply to your child's life to end up with a serial killer or a nerdy, jittery pop culture junky. See exhibit A for proof. (of the latter example... at least until I finish more than season 1 of Dexter).
