Cherry, Cherry
I just read in "Paste" that Neil Diamond is not a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I remember walking to Westwood to see "One Trick Pony". When Paul Simon and his band played "Dead Rock Stars", I was stunned that they didn’t know who was dead or alive. But, as one gets older, you forget. Life and death just blend together. There are just high points on the continuum, like "Cherry, Cherry".
If you’d asked me earlier this evening whether Neil Diamond was in the R&RHOF, I would have said yes. After all, he was a sixties PROGENITOR! Sure, he became the heartthrob of the nearly-embalmed, those who thought marijuana caused death, but in the sixties, when we were all glued to the transistor, when we waited for that two and a half minute hit, Neil Diamond RULED! Sure, even I winced when I heard "Song Sung Blue", but if Neil Diamond had died in a plane crash at the end of ’69, right after "Holly Holy" ran up the chart, he’d be seen as a legend, an icon. But although it’s harder to live than to die, it does nothing for your credibility, dying is the best career move in the book.
I’ve got a soft spot for "Sweet Caroline". It was sappier than the single preceding it, "Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show", but despite displaying Neil’s MOR roots, which exhibited themselves in spades in the seventies, "Sweet Caroline" got a pass from me, BECAUSE IT WAS SO DAMN GOOD! First, there’s the intro. It contains all the hope of the springtime in which the record was released, blending into summer and new love opportunity. The verse is sung subtly. And there’s that horn in the background. Then, an explosive chorus, after a middle section that unites the audience…SWEET CAROLINE, GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD!
Oh, so you’re not buying that. And you can’t listen to "Brother Love" or "Holly Holy" either. Well then, being the hipster you are, I’m sure you love "Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon", which Urge Overkill covered note for note on the "Pulp Fiction" soundtrack. But, as good as that remake is, it’s absent the darkness of the sixties, evidenced in the original. Yes, one cannot forget it was the decade of assassinations. From Jack to Martin to Bobby. Still, underneath it all, we had hope. We licked our wounds in our bedrooms and then ventured into the world to try and change what we didn’t like, to leave our mark.
Then there’s "I’m A Believer".
Okay, Neil Diamond only wrote it. It was the record of a manufactured group, featured on television. But there’s no more magical single than "I’m A Believer". Credit Circus Boy Micky Dolenz’s vocal. And that pied piper organ. And the jangly guitar. And those BACKUP VOCALS! Back in the day, before music on demand, we spent hours in front of the radio, hoping to hear "I’m A Believer".
Now you’re thinking I’ve left out "Kentucky Woman", your obscure favorite, peaking at #22, lower than any of the sixties singles other than "Brother Love", which hit the same chart position.
"Kentucky Woman" is good. But it’s not "Cherry, Cherry". Very few records are "Cherry, Cherry".
You only get a single chance to make a first impression. And I’ll cut Neil Diamond a break forever because my introduction to the man and his music was "Cherry, Cherry". This is not pap, this track swings AND rocks. It contains all the exuberance of the sixties without delving into saccharine territory. Primarily because of Neil’s voice. This guy is singing like he MEANS IT! Like he’s got to tell his story, that he’s just burning with rock and roll ENERGY!
Neil Diamond got fucked by Andy Lack. His well-reviewed last album was caught up in the rootkit fiasco. Lesser acts’ careers have been killed by such executive moves. But Neil survives. There’s demand on the road. But acts want to feel vital, Neil has made another record with Rick Rubin.
I won’t ask if anybody cares, but I will say that the world is not waiting. People are waiting to see if Britney dies, but there’s not a burning desire for any new music. Music is sold, it’s not vital, not necessary. But once it was. All fueled by the excitement of the Beatles and sixties radio. You had to listen to the transistor to know what was truly going on. The goal wasn’t so much to get rich, to have a career, as to get a track on the radio. One that evidenced your personality and your TALENT!
Irving told me he’s going to bring Neil Diamond back. I’m sure there will be a whirlwind of publicity, a massive tour, maybe Neil will get the accolades he deserves. But he won’t have a hit. That’s impossible. He’d need to work with Timbaland and Justin Timberlake. Desperate Madonna will go that route, she needs to be number one. But when Neil Diamond emerged, it was only about the record, the trappings were irrelevant, it wasn’t about the show, but the tune. Now much of what’s played on Top Forty radio can’t even be called a tune. The records feature beats. Melody has been exiled.
It’s impossible not to clap one’s hands and sing along to "Cherry, Cherry". This is not music to dance to, it’s not the grease in the modern day club, it stands alone. You could drop the 45 on the turntable and just watch it play, that was enough. The music channeled directly to your brain. Sure, you could dance at the sock hop, but when you did you looked at the sky and sang along!
I don’t think anybody cares if they’re in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or not. Awards end up being a reflection of the committee selecting them, they become bastardized, ultimately irrelevant. Doesn’t matter who won the Grammy, all that counts is how you feel when you hear the record. I was sitting in the kitchen reading about Neil Diamond and the pull was so strong I started hearing "Cherry, Cherry" in my head. I was drawn into the living room to fire up this computer. I wanted to convey to you the pure JOY of the record!
