Henry H. Owings, ed.

The Rock Bible

(Quirk)

Book Review by Adam McKibbin

“Unlike fossil fuels or good band names, there is no foreseeable end to bad music,” Brian Teasley writes in the introduction to The Rock Bible.  He’s right, of course.  In fact, the so-called democratization of the music industry – MySpace and cheap recording technology and what have you – has ushered in a golden age in bad music.  Mind you, there’s loads of good music, too – but it can be harder to find.  A random stroll through the aisles of your favorite music store?   An enchanting, possibly rewarding and probably expensive way to kill an hour.  Randomly browsing iTunes or MySpace in search of the next Dinosaur Jr?  Fool’s play.  But it’s free, baby!  And the kids love free.

Since Congress has been slow to take action on my proposal that bands be required to show some basic qualifications and get a license before subjecting their music on the listening public, it’s a pleasure to be able to recommend The Rock Bible.  It’s a breezy, lively read that looks good, too – a fine companion for the bathroom and tour van alike.  Helmed by Chunklet editor Henry H. Owings and compiled by his Chunklet cohorts – as well as at-large contributors including Patton Oswalt, John Darnielle and Ben Gibbard – The Rock Bible lays down the law for all who desire entrance to the altar of rock.  These commandments are relevant for superstars and stalker fans alike.  But mostly these rules are meant for the up-and-coming bands trying to find their way.  There are exceptions to every rule, of course – but as Owings and his team repeatedly point out:  you’re probably not one of them.

Drummers are taught to avoid fiberglass cages and unnecessarily cumbersome kits.  Guitarists learn words to banish from their vocabularies (“axe,” “chops”).  As a longtime hater of the enforced “everyone put your hands together” – and having once witnessed a band hilariously command an audience to express their free will by clapping in unison at a stranger’s instruction – the following was one of my favorites:  “Unless the song ends with ‘deep in the heart of the Texas,’ don’t engage the audience in a clap-along.”

Bands learn funny but often actually solid advance for just about every phase of their career: coming up with a band name, selling merch, putting together riders, working in the studio, and even – briefly – dealing with the cops (“Pretend you’re a Christian rock band on its way to play a revival.  Chances are the cop is a brain-dead Christian who will let you off the hook to spread the good word”).  Crew members and fan receive marching orders, too.

As a bonus, Teasley authored an instructive “Genesis” chapter that makes a valiant effort to trace the history of rock from Edison’s invention of the phonograph to the breakout of The Arcade Fire- all in a handy “x begat y, which begat z” format.  Of course, the chain of history isn’t so orderly, and there are some amusing cases of it clearly breaking, like a section that technically makes it sound like the formation of Omaha’s Saddle Creek (home of Bright Eyes) caused Kurt Cobain to kill himself.  Not one to stick to a dry history lesson, Teasley also declares Elliott Smith to be a murder victim (while also making him a misspelling victim).

Like the real Bible, the Rock Bible reflects the personal biases of its creators – sometimes to its detriment.  An assorted few pieces of advice are outdated or unwise, and there’s sometimes uncertainty as to whether the contributors are making rules for a Chunklet-approved rock utopia or for the actual music industry of 2008.  Some rules get unnecessarily regurgitated in different sections, including one that parrots one of the lamest mantras of tunnel-visioned hipsters:  “Politics and music don’t mix” (p. 56).  As with any song subject – from brutal breakups to the bubonic plague – there are some bands that have covered the subject well and many, many, many more that have not.  Politics aren’t part of rock… why, exactly?  Because who are you to say anything and expect people to listen?  Well, who are you to say anything about anything and expect people to listen?  You apparently cleared that hurdle when you decided to be in a band that plays in public.  Because it pisses off some people in the audience who just came out to rock?  Fuck those people. Held tongues don't rock.

But part of the fun of a Bible is arguing over the interpretation, rejecting pieces of it, and bending the rest to fit the belief system you already have in place – then using it to fuel your sense of belonging and bludgeon your enemies.  It may be a while before The Rock Bible appears bedside in your hotel; in the meantime, it makes for a great gift for anyone in your life who’s always nattering on and on about music – or, heaven help you, any aspiring rock stars in your midst.