I was sitting on a plane, and for no reason at all, a George Thorogood riff
floats through my head. I am immediately transported back to Erie PA riding my
no-name BMX bike in the summer of '88 at age 13. That was the year I discovered
Lonesome George.
I liked what he was doing. It was beer drinking, Marlboro smoking blues, tailor made for
pubescent white boys and underachieving Auto Body Vo-Tech rats (both of which I
was). He glorified alcoholism and cheered for the underdog. Of course, I
matured (cue the debate) and realized it was an act. However, growing up in a
town with a bar on every corner, it was easy to laugh with a guy who was
sleeping with his landlady and ordering up toxic blends of mixology at last
call. None of it seemed like a stretch. 12 step meetings are full of people
like me who bought in, and hopefully have a sense of humor about it today.
George came off all macho. A tough guy with an overbite and a stutter.
Shootin' pool and jive talking. Bad to the bone. Yet, I seem to remember him wearing
spandex. I'm sure he wasn’t trying to being ironic, yet irony followed him.
His band was (and still is) "The Delaware Destroyers," 'cause, you
know, Delaware is a hotbed for boogie blues and all. I guess he was giving
props in the tradition of "Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels."
Coming out of Erie PA, his gimmick made perfect sense to me.
I admit I don't know the history of this click from Delaware. For the story,
see the Wiki. This blurb is my interpretation.
At the height of his popularity, there was a certain Macho undercurrent of
cock rock going on. Golden Earing had "Twilight Zone," Sammy Hagar
filled stadiums, and Night Ranger's pre-hair metal anthems filled the air
during localized party hangouts across North America, usually named after the
location (Beggar’s Canyon, the Docks, Stoners Alley, etc...). It was not
unusual for a Tommy Tutone or Greg Kihn to break through with a couple of hits.
Don't even get me started about Aldo Nova (again, because, of the horrible
crime of his being so underrated).
It was just slightly before MTV hit huge. When it did, the pop music
identity crisis took on a visual aspect. I find this period of music history to
be fascinating. George made a video for his smash hit, but any steady rotation
was blown away once MTV figured out it's target audience liked the visual of
Duran Duran. Many artists retired into day jobs, but George made enough of a
ruckus to just keep on doing what he do. He made music for a Sturgis crowd
before it was cool, and that kind of mojo has blue collar staying power.
George's big day in the sun was just a bit before my time, but its not much of a
stretch to picture quarterbacks with tuff hair shot gunning Pabst when the
opening riff starts chugging along. By the time I found it, it was ancient
history, which worked well for my tastes (outside of Thrash) back then.
The "Bad to the Bone" LP was a huge commercial success, and songs
from it still spin on Classic Rock Radio's dreaded repeatable Playlist. If the
Brits made the blues cool for a hip crowd, George brought it back to a street
level. "Bad to the Bone" was the dirty little brother of popular
Blues, which by '82 was pretty watered down by commercialisation and years of
selling out by the British Invasion.
Eric Clapton never spent much time talking about artists outside of his
fancy. I wish he would at some point. I would love to hear his take on EVH or
Yngwie (after an unbiased listen), but I have always wanted to know what he
thought of George. Is that weird? No answer is necessary, I know it's weird. I
also have a fish named "Emmpu" and I always poach an egg in my Ramen
noodles in an effort to "doctor them up". I like being a little
weird.
So on this Friday evening when I should be out on the town writing my own
cock rock story, I am home writing about an under celebrated band with a
weirdness all their own.
Thanks for randomly popping into my head today. I needed a break from the
noise (which was actually the Oklahoma University Gymnastics team
screaming and giggling during the entire flight home from Dallas to
Pittsburgh... I guess there are worse things).
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