This is Fake B**tles! OK!
Emitt Rhodes “You Should Be Ashamed”
So I wanted to take myself up on the “post something fake” challenge I sort of off-handedly set down at the end of yesterday’s post. Some sort of critique of the obsession with “authenticity,” an ode to disposability, etc. Except, really, who am I to pass that kind of judgement on the emotional content of art? Or at least, when I do, I usually can’t find anything else to love. Either way, I fell flat on that front.
Instead, here’s SoCal 70s cult popster Emitt Rhodes doing a great Macca impersonation. It’s probably part of some larger radical subjectivity thing, but I wonder sometimes how come some stuff’s “derivative” and you just gotta hate on it–it’s too early for hate on the West Coast, so pick yr own example–and some stuff just gets a pass on the copycat front ’cause it feels so wonderful.
In other words, what separates the “pastiche” or “homage” from the “ripoff”?
Whatever that spark is that makes the difference, E. Rhodes had it. Either it doesn’t matter to me that his chosen style imitates the Beatles, or I enjoy his music as a Beatles imitation. Admittedly, part of it is extra-musical–as a solo artist he was an O.G. home recordist and played all the instruments on some tunes, earning him extra points in my book.
But really, I don’t think about that when I listen to “You Should Be Ashamed,” my favorite song by him. It’s a really dynamic tune that takes you to places in only 2:38 or so. There’s the piano-led open augmented by some subtle (yes) Harrison-esque guitar noodles, really harnessing the sadness and betrayal of which Rhodes sings. The backing vox come in for a build-up just this side of epic leading to… a jaunty part that really moves, working a fine line between the lyrics’ boast, “I’m so glad it’s over now,” and the undertow set up by the other parts.
Always enough to get me singing along, head nodding.
The compilation this came from, Listen, Listen, is out of print and ridonkulously expensive as a result, but there’s an import of Rhodes’ album American Dreams, cheapest at Newbury Comics.
(As a parenthetic post-script, E. Rhodes in his prime experienced label woes as bad as any artists this side of Big Star, and seemed as personally crushed by his lack of commercial success as was Nick Drake. Rhodes is still alive, but is ill and reclusive. I’d count him, along with Drake, as someone whose fortunes may have been better if he’d come of age after punk rock happened.)(The least we can do is try to get his music back in print in the U.S….)
