Musical Royalty – Kings, Queens And Guillotines

Musical Royalty – Kings, Queens And Guillotines

Paul Weller – The Modfather,” so say the types that hang around record fairs, exchanging other’s ideas from poorly written books that now frequent half the shelves of charity shops. I remember one such book on The Manic Street Preachers telling me that people in London were affecting Welsh accents in the 90’s following the success of various bands from the region. No, no we weren’t, but I digress.

 LICK KWISH     –    MUSICAL ROYALTY      –     KINGS,          QUEENS          AND        GUILLOTINES

Musical Royalty – Kings, Queens And Guillotines - book cover4

So how is it that Paul Weller, a revivalist from the late 1970’s, has been credited with siring a scene that began 15 years previous? And how can he pander to it for the following 40 years without pulling a hernia while cringing?

There is something a bit perverse about labelling artists as royalty. Whether innovative or not. I find it a little undignified, for both audience and performer alike. It also feels as if its some kind of in-joke for sad sacks to create half-arsed cults around. Who is the one true God, Clapton or Hendrix?

LICK KWISH     –    MUSICAL ROYALTY     –       KINGS,         QUEENS          AND        GUILLOTINES

Muddy Waters is not the King of the Blues. He’s Muddy Waters. Is that not enough? Aretha Franklin is not the Queen of Soul. She’s just a damn fine vocalist. And Paul Weller is not The Modfather. He’s a twat from Surrey who became a poster child for every wannabe Cockney from farming towns in Essex. But I should probably let that go now.

Then there is the King of Pop. Michael Jackson was a man of talent. He had a nice voice, could copy other people’s dancing very well and he knew how to market himself. Come the 90’s he decided to place this particular crown upon his head and insisted everyone else join in or he wouldn’t perform.

Having sold more music than anyone else by some distance “The King of Pop(ular music)” was perhaps a fitting title in some ways. The fact he demanded it like some demented dictator, draping himself in military medals, gave the whole thing an air of desperation.

LICK KWISH     –     MUSICAL ROYALTY     –      KINGS,          QUEENS         AND         GUILLOTINES

I knew a woman who every year, on the anniversary of the death of George Harrison, would post “RIP my sweet lord”. She was in her 30’s. I have to wonder about the mental stability of people who view the world like this, but more than that, I wonder how it is possible for them to simply enjoy music.

Lick Kwish

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