Todd Rundgren - Street Punk in Self-Imposed Exile
by James Wolcott
from Creem Magazine; July 1975
by James Wolcott
from Creem Magazine; July 1975
Todd Rundgren - Street Punk in Self-Imposed Exile
by James Wolcott from Creem Magazine; July 1975 |
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| One man's musical messiah is another man's false prophet, but whatever your opinion of the eccentric electrician's compositions, 'Initiation' represents Todd at his most extreme. |
"Rock is now in it's tragic-comic phase. It's not very vital anymore; it's more like, I don't know, Dixieland." Todd Rundgren makes this remark in the largest room of his new Woodstock home. The house is so remote, so deeply hidden in the woods, that one almost expects J. D. Salinger to answer the door. Inside: high ceilings, minimal furniture - a sense of order and spaciousness. With a single breath one draws in the smell of freshly cut wood - "just like the old college playhouse," says Todd. Upstairs, in the bedroom, is a video synthesizer which showcases tight, formal patterns of light. The images are like the kaleidoscopic dreams of a computer.
Curious. Not that long ago Todd Rundgren was matter-of-factly speculating about running for the Presidency and now he seems closer to Citizen Kane in self-imposed exile at Xanadu. Not that he's in retirement. He has a new album on Bearsville Records entitled Initiation which is the culmination of his development since A Wizard, A True Star and perhaps his best work since Something/Anything. Those who were dismayed by the lack of commercial appeal of his Utopia album may find Initiation more congenial, though Todd is still a long way from his Philly roots.
Todd grew up in the Quaker City with the usual
boyhood dreams of glory -- his major goal being "to fill the dreary
Philadelphia skies with the most spectacular home grown sky rocket in
history," according to friend Patti Smith -- but had the smarts to go
with the dreams. After a stint with a group called Woody's Truckstop, he
formed what he called his "fantasy rock and roll band," Nazz. Nazz gave
two fine things to the world: the single "Hello, It's Me" and the
stunning red-vinyled rock classic album, Nazz Nazz. On stage Todd was
still finding his style; Nazz in performance was a pale imitation of The
Who.
After Nazz came apart (because of the financial/personality conflicts which plague all groups) Rundgren went on to two solo albums solidly in the pop genre, Runt in early 1970 and The Ballad of Todd Rundgren a year later. It was on these pleasant trifles that Rundgren groomed his reputation for Doing It All: songwriting, producing, engineering, singing, mixing, instrumental playing ... everything. The two albums had their dull moments but they helped build the image of Todd Rundgren, Complete Pop Performer.
The apotheosis came with the two-record set, Something/Anything in March, 1972, which represents the definitive pop Rundgren. "I Saw the Light" is from this set, along with "Slut" and "Black Maria" and a nicely reworked "Hello, It's Me." "It became two records because I had so many pop tunes in me and they just poured out until I had enough material to fill four sides," says Todd. It was the album which put Rundgren's reputation over the top -- "Something/Anything was a loved album; everybody loved it." The album also marks the moment of infatuation with the Presidency: the inside cover photograph shows Rundgren in a room, surrounded by amplifiers, making the arms-spread victory sign in the manner of a recently-deposed President.
Ten months later, Todd followed, another two-record set, and it had the best and worst of Rundgren: technical wizardry undercut by self-indulgence. Along with the further probes into synthesizer-created worlds, Rundgren provided commentary on the current scene in songs like "Heavy Metal Kids" and "Sons of 1984," but even the best tracks couldn't save the set from collapsing under its own weight.
Controversy greeted the release of Utopia and even greater
controversy greeted the tour. Utopia was the first group formed by
Rundgren since Nazz yet the vision was altogether different. Nazz was a
prototype rock band, but Utopia was a group which could conceivably play
anything - the technical ability was astonishing. But some critics
complained of the album's ponderousness, and of the tour's dopey
evangelism (when the group played Radio City Music Hall, the atmosphere
was reminiscent of a great church service, and Rundgren himself came out
in pink guru pajamas). "A lot of people misunderstood what Utopia was
all about. It wasn't a Todd Rundgren album, -- my name was on the cover
so that people wouldn't walk into a record store and say, "Utopia, what
the hell is that?" -- it was a group effort. I performed as a member in
the group so the lyrics are not as personal as a lot of people thought.
They don't necessarily represent my philosophy." Despite the confusion,
Todd notes: "Each album does better than the previous one, each tour
does better than the one before."
Initiation will probably not disrupt the trend.
It opens with Rundgren's rather sappy single, "Real Man," and "Born to
Synthesize," which is easily the worst track he has ever inflicted upon
vinyl.
But "The Death of Rock and Roll" is a knockout song-dynamic, forceful and impassioned. It begins by Todd being upbraided by a friend for not rocking but instead "filling your head with all that synthesized noise." Not only are friends in for the kill: "The critics got together and they started a game, You get your records for nothin' and you call each other names." If Todd needs this comic-book view of critics in order to create, rave on. "Eastern Intrigue" follows, a rich, atmospheric, faintly comic meditation on the wisdom of the East. It's the most relaxed and becalmed song on the album, conjuring up sunlight, placid waters, and the scent of incense curling through the room. The title track comes crashing after and it's another spirited number about flying into the future and abandoning the constraints of the past.
"Fair Warning," which closes Side One, is a straightforward epistle to his audience. Opening with a hilarious parody of Barry White "one of the classics," says Todd -- it soon moves to the center of its concern: "I know that you've been wondering if I'm the same man inside/I never tried to fool you 'cause I've got nothing to hide/But I gave you fair warning, I could never be tied down." And the song ends: "Don't follow me now, I gave you all fair warning/Now it's goodbye."
What's frustrating about the work, and frustrating with much of Todd's recent work, is that every musical space is filled, the dimensions of sound bloated with excessive electricity. He either doesn't respect silence or fears it. Which isn't is to say that "Cosmic Fire" is closer to the aesthetic tyranny of the video synthesizer -- every inch so crammed that one's eyes have nothing to pursue -- rather than the gracing spaciousness of his house. The music is sometimes so clotted that it's impossible for the listener to draw a deep breath.
Not that Rundgren cares. "I don't even consider myself a 'rock authority'." Yet he also says: "I know every aspect of the essence of rock and roll." Which may appear a contradiction, but isn't. Rundgren has detached himself from the current swirl of activity precisely because he's technically mastered rock-he's liberated himself from being a prisoner of fashion. While so many rock performers are obsessed with 'roots' - John Lennon tries to breath some life into his favorite oldies, Bryan Ferry serves up rock standards in his prissy dank manner, Rick Derringer for God knows what reason re-does "Hang On, Sloopy" - Todd is going into new landscapes and not looking over his shoulder.
In what direction is he headed? Todd might quote Blake in response: "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom." Let's hope so. Since Initiation is a work of strength and integrity we can hold out the hope that Rundgren's road of excess doesn't lead to the Palace of Excess.
Todd says, "Kids used to go into
rock for fame, now it's for money. The proliferation of cheap
instruments made it possible for anyone to take up a career in rock."
Perhaps he believes that his music has to be majestically thunderous in
order to drown out the buzzing of the locusts. When the issue of
sexuality in rock came up, Todd said, "Rock right now isn't sexy, it's
smutty." All these remarks point to the same conviction: that rock music
has become so common (in the bad sense of that word), so repetitive, and
so enmeshed in financial interests that its vitality has degenerated
into mindlessness. In short, it's time to go beyond rock. What will this
post-rock phenomenon be known as? "Why not just call it music?," replied
Todd. Common sense has its triumphs.
And common sense will be needed to balance his visionary drives. A few years ago ads for Something/Anything showed Rundgren holding a match to a few sticks of dynamite. Underneath were the words: "Go ahead. Ignore me." Whatever one's reservations about Initiation, Todd Rundgren is still not to be ignored. His karma is still to be reckoned with.
photo credits (listed in the order appearing in the article):
opener- Harry Sandler at fence- Lynn Goldsmith bw seated- Neal Preston bw guitar- Neal Preston cover shot- Bob Gruen