McGinn: Psst, kids — everything has been done before

McGinn

The Hollies sing “On a Carousel” (well, duh) in 1967. The band, inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this week, played the Clark County Fairgrounds on Sept. 18, 1966.

AP file photo The Hollies sing “On a Carousel” (well, duh) in 1967. The band, inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this week, played the Clark County Fairgrounds on Sept. 18, 1966.

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By Andrew McGinn, Staff Writer 4:40 PM Thursday, March 18, 2010

One of my favorite bands, The Hollies, was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this week.

I’ll admit, it’s probably an odd choice.

Oh, not for induction — those guys crafted pop songs so unbelievably catchy, they have to be surgically removed from your temporal lobe. The three-part harmonies of Allan Clarke, Graham Nash and Tony Hicks are like the Everly Brothers on a sugar high.

I’m just saying it’s probably an odd choice for someone who’s only 33 to rank The Hollies among his favorite bands.

I mean, they did all their best stuff eight years before I was even born (Nash left in ’68).

If you saw The Hollies on Sept. 18, 1966, at the Clark County Fairgrounds — “direct from England,” the old ad says, and they played the Women’s Building at the oddball time of  3 p.m. — consider yourself lucky.

They were at their peak then (“Bus Stop” had just hit No. 5 the day before), which only goes to show how much the music industry has changed since 1966, that a band at their peak would play the Clark County Fairgrounds on a Sunday afternoon.

But, really, it’s not like I long to live in a past I didn’t know. Some people my age and younger — typically those of the pretend-hippie variety — long to have been at Woodstock.

Me?

Not so much. I’ve seen the movie. The music sucked.

Now, on the other hand, if Mr. Peabody and Sherman pulled up in the Wayback Machine and asked if I wanted to hop in and go check out Monterey Pop, I might be tempted.

Wait. What’s that?

Who’s Mr. Peabody and Sherman?

Sorry. There go my retro tastes again.

Not too long ago, someone posted a comment on SpringfieldNewsSun.com that basically said something to the extent that they were tired of me making cracks on contemporary pop music — and for making people feel stupid for listening to it.

Sorry again. It just sorta slips out.

Whenever the topic of a new pop hit comes up in the office — during which I usually make my customary disparaging comments — one particular co-worker always has to remind the rest of the staff that, “Andy doesn’t listen to anything made past 1969.”

That’s just wrong.

I don’t listen to anything made past 1968.

I will admit, however, that I was feeling rather nostalgic for 1996 the other day, so I got out some Fountains of Wayne and Superdrag — but even then, I had to raid my wife’s CD collection.

And to be fair, I do make exceptions for some ’70s punk and power pop, but that’s really all just louder, pilled-up takes on British Invasion stuff.

I blame my dad.

I was in high school when Nirvana appeared on “Saturday Night Live.” I sat there glued to the TV as they played their song and then proceeded to smash up their gear.

Yeah! Cool!

“Pfft,” my dad went, unimpressed. “The Who did that 30 years ago.”

It was my light-bulb moment — the moment I realized that everything had been done before.

The explosion of creativity sparked by The Beatles in 1964 led to four or five years in which everything that could be done (at least tonally) with a guitar, a bass, a set of drums and maybe an organ was, in fact, attempted.

And between just The Beatles, Byrds, Who, Kinks, Stones and Beach Boys, all the right emotions were covered, too — joy, sorrow, angst, insecurity.

I went out and got a Who greatest hits tape, then, before long, some of the black soul music that inspired them.

In 11th grade, I bought “Freak Out,” the first album by Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, and it was a revelation.

This was “oldies” music as much as the Bible is just an old book.

This had more meaning than anything else I’d heard up to that point. Kurt Cobain was content to be a spurned wallflower — Zappa encouraged people to stand up to the status quo and either make fun of or be made fun of.

So will my own son share my tastes in music?

Well, I’ve already played him plenty of Beatles and Byrds, but it pained me to see that nothing had really registered — until the day I turned on the car radio and we were confronted with “Tik Tok.”

Then his little feet went crazy. He even started clapping.

Then again, he’s only 16 months old.

He’ll learn.

Contact this reporter at (937) 328-0352 or amcginn@coxohio.com.

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