My dear friend, the increasingly in-demand Brooklyn psychiatrist and all round sage Dr Willy Mandelbaum, is truly humbled by your enthusiastic reception to his thoughts on popular culture. He has reluctantly agreed to me posting his deeply considered assessments of the inductees into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame from an unpublished medical paper of 2007…
“What can I tell ya? I’ve been readin’ about this Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame thing, which is this deal they have every year where a buncha longhairs get given a gong for doin’ what they already get paid for. Everybody puts away the spandex pants, dresses up like Cary Grant for the night and tells each other how frickin’ great they are.
“I also see that the whole shebang’s gonna happen at the fancy Waldorf-Astoria, not a million miles away from the humble four-storey brownstone where Dr Willy dispenses his sage advice to the emotionally bewildered on a daily basis. Pretty nice hotel, although I gotta say my last visit wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment. Myself and the lovely Bernice were invited to watch her cousin Ruthie’s boy Herschell get hitched to some fella called Beauregard that he met at wig-making school. Now, you gotta understand that I’m no homophobe – can’t afford to be in my business, ’cause the gays got the green and a lot of ‘em have what I like to call hiccups in the head (not strictly a medical term, but I didn’t want to blind you with science). And although Bernice says she’d never been so embarrassed in her life, I thought I asked a perfectly valid question: First dance at the reception, which of the guys was gonna lead?
“But, I digress…
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for acknowledging the achievements of the truly talented. I’m not ashamed to admit that I wept like a baby when they gave Streisand the Oscar. But these rock ‘n’ roll people, I don’t know so well, so I thought I’d do me some research. Luckily, Ramona my PA has a 12-year-old kid who got to work with this downloading doohickey of his and ‘burned’ me some of the inductees’ music onto a coupla discs. As a psychiatrist, though, I gotta say that I find it interesting that all this terminology (‘burn’, ‘rip’) is so aggressive and violent. These people could use a good shrink.
“First up, we got Grandmaster Flash And The Furious Five. Been playin’ their ‘song’ The Message a lot: ‘It’s like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under’. Boy, if I had a nickel for every time someone said that on my couch… Hey, what am I talkin’ about? I get 300 clams an hour every time someone says that on my couch! This is a classic example of precarious mental balance being exacerbated by environment, a scenario I’m all too familiar with, although my high-fallutin’ clientele rarely get unhinged by broken glass and folks urinatin’ on the sidewalk. It’s more usually the fact that the 14th hole is directly below the Newark flight path and it’s playing havoc with their swing.
“I understand the Grandmaster is a major influence in his field, and that’s fine by me, even though it’s not my ‘bag’. Just ’cause he’s yet to be given a month’s residency at the Pinecones Leisure Retreat in the Catskills doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be honoured. Okay, who’s next…?
“REM, I’ve hearda these boys before. They’re the ones with the guitar player who likes wine but hates flight attendants, if I’m not mistaken. They also got that bass player with the glasses, who looks uncannily like Ruthie’s boy Herschell. I seen that singer before, too. Mostly on the news moanin’ about injustice all the time. Huh, Streisand gettin’ stiffed for a second Oscar for The Way We Were – now that’s injustice.
“Don’t know what the hell he’s singin’ about most of the time, though. He started shoutin’ somethin’ about Leonard Bernstein and Lenny Bruce in the middle of one song. Never cared for Mr Bruce, he was all ‘cocksucker’ this and ‘cocksucker’ that when I saw him in the 60s. Fine for a stag show, maybe, but Bernice turned crimson and we had to leave. I don’t mind the REM, sometimes they sound like Dylan when he went all Judas. So, yeah, I’ll let that one go, too. Next?
“The Ronettes I remember well, mainly because Herschell used to obsess over their high hair when he was just a boy. Guess his future path was kinda mapped out for him then and there. That singer Veronica’s still around doin’ stuff, I’m led to believe, so I suppose she deserves a Hall Of Fame place. Mind you, she’s probably just happy that she’s not been shot yet. That ex-hubby of hers is a bit of a fruit-and-nut assortment, to use yet another medical expression.
“Next up on my list is Patti Smith, and I have to confess that I skipped over one of the tracks Ramona’s boy burned for me. Piss Factory – what the hell is that all about? What kinda gal makes a record called Piss Factory? I Googled this dame and discovered that she’s some sorta poet. Well, she ain’t in Willy’s extensive oak-lined library, I can tell ya that. Did Emily Dickinson ever feel the urge to write about piss? I think not! Okay, so Patti’s supposed to be sardonic and insightful, I get that, but to me she’s just Dorothy Parker with a potty mouth. Not impressed. Who’s last?
“Van Halen. Some sorta confusion with this bunch, as nobody seems to know who the singer is. Well, Willy’s been listenin’ to a couple of these guys bawling, and I can honestly say that the band would be better off if they stuck to the instrumentals. Never did Lawrence Welk any harm. Eddie the guitar player is supposed be a ‘rock god’, whatever that is. Does he have a church? No. And some big dome out by the airport does not constitute a place of worship, in my book. David Lee Roth is the guy I remember from MTV many years ago, which I tuned into by mistake after being duped by Dr Leo Beckerstein, the dentist across the hall. Told me the station’s full name was Mazel Tov Vision. Very funny, Leo, ya sadistic quack.
“Roth is a bit of a clown, to my mind, he’s got that permanent ‘look at me, I’m wonderful’ grin on his face, but he’s just a cartoon with split ends, as far as I can see. Nah, the Van Halens of this world belong in a hall of shame. Whatever happened to melody? That’s all I wanna know.
“I don’t think I’ll be watching the induction ceremony on the tube, reckon I’ll take Bernice for a steak dinner that night. There’s a lovely little place not far from here, with nothing but Pat Boone and Connie Francis on the jukebox – the only kind of hall of fame you’ll find me walking down.
“That’s the way Willy sees it. Our time is up for today.”
