On the Importance of Unpluggeds

I believe that great Rock and Roll (and great music in general) incorporates:
-skill as well as passion
-subtlety as well as bombast (this could also be phrased as understatement as well
 as hyperbole)
-tradition as well as innovation, and
-great songs, period. 
I spent an hour walking with Nirvana Unplugged this afternoon, and as the final, chilling chords of Cobain and Co.’s cover of Leadbelly’s “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” faded in my ears, I got to thinking about what an incredibly dramatic and wonderful reshaping of the rock and roll landscape in reference to these values Unplugged records represented when Nirvana unleashed this one on the world.

When Bob Dylan outraged his kum-ba-ya chanting minions by “plugging in” and going electric at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, he built a bridge between folk music and rock and roll—a fusing of subtlety and bombast, a clear and wonderful combination of tradition and innovation, and a prodigious demonstration of both skills and passion from one of the two most accomplished songwriters in history (I count Lennon-McCartney as one).  As a result of this bridge, rock and roll of the late 1960s and early 1970s—from the Band to Joe Cocker to Joni Mitchell to Van Morrison to the Rolling Stones to even Lynyrd Skynyrd—revered, respected, and clearly incorporated elements of acoustic music with folk and traditional blues lineage and sensibilities.  By the 1980s, however, bands like (ugh, gag, RETCH!) Soft Cell and the Human League, which barely had anyone who could play any instrument, electric or acoustic, were selling millions and filling arenas.  Electronica—drum machines, synthesizers, and computer treated voices-- dominated the airwaves.  No tradition, no subtlety, no skill (and, for that matter, no passion either).

In 1989, however, MTV—like it or not, the Tastemaker of the day—started airing “Unplugged” segments, featuring  established stars performing stripped down arrangements of well-known material in front of small, live audiences on a set which looked and felt like an old-fashioned folkie song circle.  Early MTV Unplugged guests ranged from Jethro Tull to Bon Jovi to Paul McCartney, and were well received, though more in the spirit of  quaint diversions than as serious musical offerings.  That all changed n 1992, however, when Eric Clapton rescued his career from a bland fadeout and stormed back into relevancy armed with only a Martin acoustic guitar and his voice. Clapton’s Unplugged set, in retrospect, is a flawed piece of work: stuck in mid-tempo from start to finish and often lapsing into smooth adult contemporary blah well-suited to shopping malls or elevators. 

 

However it does showcase a few kinds of things which had not been popular for many years in powerful ways.  First of all, the unplugged setting lets you hear the man sing.  While I have always felt that Clapton is an over-rated guitar player—come on now, let’s be frank: lots of rock and roll guys play the blues in ways more interesting and arresting than he does—I have also always felt that he is an under-rated singer, and the Unplugged set makes my point nicely.  His voice is rich and warm yet also steeped in grit and gravel, and his singing is clear, precise, and musical.  Listen to him sing “Nobody Knows you When You’re Down and Out,” “Before You Accuse Me,” or “Malted Milk,” and if you don’t get the shivers, well geez, ya’ must be deaf, dead, or soulless.  Without the bombast of his own screaming Stratocaster and a full blown, electrified  rock and roll band blasting away, this voice suddenly comes to the fore, and it is a wonder to behold.  Second of all, yeah—he’s a damn fine (although over rated) guitar player.  His guitar work had become predictable, however—“Clapton plays the blues on his Strat” again and again and again, from tour to album and back ‘round again.  Really, he hadn’t played anything that really sounded new or different, arguably, since leaving Derek and the Fuckin’ Dominos.  The Unplugged record, however, has that Old Dog turning some new tricks, and the stripped down setting lets you really hear it.  The fingerpicking on “Nobody Knows You,” the slide work on “Rollin’ and Tumblin’”—that’s yummy stuff and way more interesting than endless noodling on electric versions of “Cocaine” or "After Midnight” that he’d been playing ad nauseum for years, decades even.  Skill and subtlety as well as passion and bombast right there for ya’.  And the song selection and reworking of old material—covers of Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, et al as well as dramatic recastings of his own original works like “Layla” and songs like “Nobody Knows You” that he has covered already-- provide a delicious combination of tradition and innovation as well as a buffet of some of the finest songs ever written.  The Unplugged format was a new kind of conversation that spoke directly to these values and the fact that the record sold roughly a gazillion copies reflected the fact that the rock and roll audience at large was ready for something Big to happen along these lines.

And then: Nirvana.  Well Holy Crap and Flaming Mother of God with her Hair on Fire.  As noted in this posting and elsewhere, by the early 90s, although rock and roll seemed to be on its deathbed, it still had a heartbeat (those first 2 Jane’s Addiction records are as much of a musical defibrillator as you’ll ever hear, methinks, even if they didn’t sell gazillions).  Nirvana’s Nevermind—  loud,  electric, passionate, and desperate-- roused the sleeping giant.  In addition to the raw bombast audible in the guitar, vocals, and drums, the songs themselves-- “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” “Come As You Are,” “Polly,” “Breed”— were fuckin’ unbelievable: melodic, irresistible, funny, insightful, and pressing on issues on the minds of young people everywhere.  The album and band took off like ballistic missiles.  To listen to Nevermind, however, with its screaming vocals, thunderous drumming, and wall crumbling guitars, one would not expect that the natural next thing to do would be an acoustic set.  WRONG!  

Nirvana Unplugged, following close on the heels of Nevermind, is one of the greatest albums of all time, and, as a result of the record, the values of
-skill as well as passion
-subtlety as well as bombast
-tradition as well as innovation, and
-great songs, period
were resoundingly re-established.  First: Cobain’s voice was just one part of the gigantic sonic steamroller that rolled over you as you listened to Nevermind.  In an acoustic setting, however, his voice, like Clapton’s, emerges as a specific instrument of staggering power and skill.  From the plaintive “About a Girl,” to the desperately confessional “Pennyroyal Tea,” to the threateningly eerie “Where Did You Sleep Last Night,” Kurt Cobain’s singing is both skilled and  passionate,  subtle as well as bombastic.  Again, if his voice on “Lake of Fire” doesn’t give you the Willies, then geez, ya’ must be deaf, dead, or soulless.  It’s all in tune, it’s understated at least or more often than it’s overstated, and it’s all incredibly musical. The set recasts many favorites from Nevermind (and the at the time unfinished In Utero) in remarkable ways – “Come As You Are,” "On a Plain," “Pennyroyal Tea”— making clear that the songs are outstanding compositions, not just successful because of their viscerality or topical timeliness but capable of holding water, and lots of it, in many different settings.  And the band offers breathtaking and inventive renditions not only of their own songs but of contemporaries (like “Lake of Fire” by the Meat Puppets), predecessors (like “The Man Who Sold the World” by David Bowie), and musical ancestors (like “Where Did You Sleep…” by Leadbelly)—tradition and innovation all rolled into one.

Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Unplugged-style albums have followed.   Indeed, if I were on the proverbial desert island,  I could probably be happy with any of a number of these offerings:  Steve Earle’s Train A-Comin’, Uncle Tupelo’s April 16-20, 1992, Chris Whitley’s Dirt Floor, or even The Rolling Stones Stripped.  Yes, without any doubt, the format has, by now, become formulaic and obligatory, and so is no longer really innovative or, in some cases, even interesting or entertaining.  However I feel that it remains a useful exercise and the fact that it has become de rigeur and a rite of passage is good, healthy: if what you’re doing doesn’t sound good in an acoustic setting, then maybe it’s just smoke and mirrors, hot air.  If you’re gonna be someone now, you better be able to do what you do with only the basic tools: voices, acoustic guitars, and not much else.   You’ve gotta show that you have:
-skill as well as passion
-subtlety as well as bombast
-tradition as well as innovation, and
-great songs, period.
If you don’t, then you’re not really a Big Deal.  Period.  If you do, then maybe you’ve really got something.  Indeed, there are MANY musicians—Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Tweedy, heck, even the Rolling Stones-- who I would rather see in this kind of setting than with their whole damn band.  Brought to you by MTV, Eric Clapton, and Nirvana (quite a triumvirate!), Unplugged sets have made the rock and roll landscape a richer place.