Product Description

At last! An A-to-Z reference guide for readers who want to learn the cryptic language of Rock Snobs, those arcana-obsessed people who speak of "Rickenbacker guitars" and "Gram Parsons."
 
We've all been there--trapped in a conversation with smarty-pants music fiends who natter on about "the MC5" or "Eno" or "the Hammond B3," not wanting to let on that we haven't the slightest idea what they're talking about. Well, fret no more! The Rock Snob's Dictionary is here to define every single sacred totem of rock fandom's know-it-all fraternity, from Alt.country to Zimmy. (That's what Rock Snobs call Bob Dylan, by the way.)

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #319807 in Books
• Published on: 2005-04-12
• Released on: 2005-04-12
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 176 pages

About the Author

DAVID KAMP has been a writer for Vanity Fair and GQ for over a decade, and began his career at Spy, the satirical New York monthly. STEVEN DALY is a Vanity Fair contributing editor, and in a previous life was a rock musician in his native Glasgow, playing drums for the band Orange Juice. Kamp and Daly live in New York City. 

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Rock Snob*s Dictionary


A * symbol indicates a Rock Snob Vanguard item, denoting a person or an entity held in particular esteem by Rock Snobs.


Acetate. A small-batch test-pressing of a recording, used for demonstration purposes in the pre-digital era--so that record-label executives could vet an upcoming release, or so that music publishers could pitch their new songs to the labels. Often used synonymously with the term WHITE LABEL, though a true, vintage acetate, recorded straight from the studio master tapes and cut on heavy, fragile lacquer that wore out after a few plays (as opposed to the more durable vinyl), is an even rarer commodity. The official Brunswick release of "My Generation" kicks ass, but it doesn't quite capture the primal mod savagery of the acetate.

Ackles, David. Hard-luck Californian singer-songwriter who released four cultishly worshipped albums from 1968 to 1974, the most celebrated of which is American Gothic (1972). Like his poor-selling contemporaries VAN DYKE PARKS and Randy Newman, Ackles, in his work, evoked the great American songbooks of Stephen Foster and George and Ira Gershwin more than he did the stoner confessionals of the LAUREL CANYON troupe, making him something of a man out of time--though he would later be praised as a genius by Elvis Costello and Bernie Taupin, Elton John's lyricist. Ackles died of cancer in 1999, before a proposed collaboration with Taupin could be realized.

Adler, Lou. Malibu-based macher of the L.A. music scene since the late fifties, having discovered Jan & Dean, shepherded JOHN PHILLIPS and the Mamas and the Papas to stardom on his Dunhill label, organized the MONTEREY POP festival, cofounded the Sunset Strip clubs the Whisky a Go-Go and the Roxy, and produced Carole King's denimy singer-songwriter showpiece, Tapestry, in 1971, thereby bringing the LAUREL CANYON ethos to the mass market. A cool, inscrutable figure who often sits beside Jack Nicholson at Lakers games, Adler functions as the urbane antithesis to the scrappy guttersnipe Strip scenesters KIM FOWLEY and RODNEY BINGENHEIMER.

Albini, Steve. Self-consciously difficult Chicago-based record producer who chafes at being called a producer, insisting that he merely "records" bands; best known for having produced--er, recorded--Nirvana's studio swan song, In Utero, and for issuing snarky comments to the press when some of the album's uncompromisingly raw songs were later remixed by other producers. Albini, who pushes the bounds of hard-rock iconoclasm by wearing glasses and having short hair, enhanced his outsider cred by playing guitar in the not-very-good hardcore bands Big Black, Rapeman, and Shellac. Man, that drum sound is a monster! No one knows mic placement like Albini.

Alt. country. Self-righteous rock-country hybrid genre whose practitioners favor warbly, studiedly imperfect vocals, nubby flannel shirts, and a conviction that their take on country is more "real" than the stuff coming out of Nashville. Heavily influenced by GRAM PARSONS. Also known as the No Depression movement, after the title of an album by the SEMINAL alt.country band Uncle Tupelo (which itself purloined the title from the CARTER FAMILY song "No Depression in Heaven"). Though such alt. country standard-bearers as the Jayhawks and Neko Case continue to embrace the genre's conventions, the former Uncle Tupelo mainmen Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar have emphatically de-twangified, the former as the leader of the crit-beloved pop eclecticists Wilco, the latter as a solo artist after disbanding his post-Tupelo alt.country band, Son Volt.

Americana. Catchall term for any indigenous American music that draws influence from the United States' earthier pre-rock idioms (country, folk, bluegrass, etc.) and bears no obvious imprimatur of slick New York and Los Angeles A&R men; used to describe everything from mail-order-only cassettes sold by West Virginia fiddlers to high-profile
ALT.COUNTRY releases by attractive, slightly wind-chapped young women such as Tift Merritt and Laura Cantrell.

Anthology of American Folk Music, The. Multivolume collection, first issued by the FOLKWAYS label in 1952, of obscure and semi-obscure folk recordings as compiled by eccentric musicologist Harry Smith (1923-1991). Significant for having allegedly triggered the late-fifties-early-sixties "folkie" movement that gave us Bob Dylan, and therefore, by extension, for making pop music subversive, turning the Beatles into druggies, and irreparably rending the fabric of our society.

Anti-folk. Hazily defined genre originally inhabited by young white tenement squatters who combined folk and punk sensibilities, but more recently embodied by the LO-FI pretend rustics Will Oldham and Bill Callahan, who, under their aliases (Palace and Bonnie "Prince" Billy for Oldham, Smog for Callahan), thrum acoustic guitars and warble ominous murder-ballad lyrics in the style of the authentic twenties hayseeds heard on Harry Smith's ANTHOLOGY OF AMERICAN FOLK MUSIC. The anti-folk movement (which took its name from English acousti-punk Billy Bragg's description of his own sound) traces its origins to a scroungy eighties Lower East Side scene that spawned, among others, Beck, Michelle Shocked, Cindy Lee Berryhill, and Ani DiFranco.

Aphrodite's Child. Hirsute, preposterous Greek PROG outfit from the late sixties and early seventies enjoying new life as a staple of retro-funk compilations. After the group's 1972 split, walrus-sized vocalist Demis Roussos, possessor of an unlikely castrato singing voice, went on to dubious Euro-fame as a kind of Hellenic Barry White, crooning MOR love songs for the aprs-ski set, while keyboardist Vangelis Parpathanssiou jettisoned his last name and won international fame for his synth-heroic soundtrack to Chariots of Fire and Snob plaudits for his noirish Blade Runner soundtrack.

Arden, Don. Knuckle-dragging thug-titan of Britain's early rock scene; the Suge Knight of his era. Gaining a toehold in London's postwar show business scene as a boy comedian and singer, Arden (ne Harold Levy) muscled his way into promotion, organizing British tours for such kindred-spirit wildmen as Gene Vincent, Little Richard, and Jerry Lee Lewis. As manager of THE SMALL FACES, Black Sabbath, and the Electric Light Orchestra in the sixties and seventies, Arden earned a singular reputation for violence, famously dangling fellow maverick Robert Stigwood from a balcony during a business dispute. When Arden's daughter Sharon took over the management of his client Ozzy Osbourne in the early eighties, marrying the cro-mag rocker in the process, Don declared war on Sharon, and she tried to run him over with a car. But Arden has mellowed in recent years, reconciling with his daughter and shuffling through episodes of MTV's The Osbournes while singing Yiddish music-hall songs.

Association, the. Prime arbiters of the late-sixties "sunshine pop" ethos, having scored a string of featherlight CURT BOETTCHER-produced hits such as "Along Comes Mary," "Cherish," and "Windy." Though the Association was big enough to have been the opening act at the MONTEREY POP festival, and their multilayered harmonies and sophisticated arrangements were sometimes worthy of BRIAN WILSON, their credibility was hampered by their wussy image, relentless deployment of ba-pa-ba-paaah backing vocals, and the fact that their main musical force, Terry Kirkman, played the recorder and flute onstage--ultimately consigning them, perhaps unfairly, to the BUBBLEGUM ranks.

Austin City Limits. Public-television program originally conceived, in 1974, as a showcase for Austin, Texas's burgeoning music scene--the first guest was the pre-superstardom Willie Nelson--but later reconfigured as a hip, wide-ranging TV alternative to Nashville's fogyish Grand Ole Opry (with such guests as TOWNES VAN ZANDT, Emmylou Harris, Rosanne Cash, and Lyle Lovett), and, later still, as a magical melting-pot for both mainstream country acts (Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, Vince Gill), and ROOTS-sensitive rock and pop acts like Sheryl Crow, the Jayhawks, and Ben Kweller. Rodney Crowell turned in a smokin' set on Austin City Limits last night.

Autoharp. Small stringed instrument, also known as a chorded zither, whose gentle twang, portability, and visual appeal (it's cradled in one arm and stroked by the other, like a newborn) have made it a favorite of both old-timey musicians (such as the CARTER FAMILY) and newfangled AMERICANA artists. Catherine O'Hara strummed one in the folkie send-up A Mighty Wind.

Axe. Imbecilic term for an electric guitar, nevertheless embraced by rock critics and hobby guitarists with advanced degrees. My Sebring axe doesn't have the pedigree of a Fender, but man, it can shred like one!

Axelrod, David. Snob-exhumed purveyor of sixties orchestral funk. A West Coast producer-arranger with a CV worthy of a James Ellroy character--as a young man he dabbled in violent crime and went on to become a jazz producer in the fifties--Axelrod established himself in the mid-sixties producing artists as varied as Lou Rawls and the Electric Prunes, and under his own name recorded ambitious, layered albums that defied categorization. (He once used Blake poems as lyrics.) A commercial failure in his own era, Axelrod embarked on a cocaine-fueled downward spiral, but fortune smiled upon him in the nineties when the likes of Lauryn Hill, Dr. Dre, and DJ Shadow sampled his work.

*Bacharach, Burt. Rehabilitated songwriter whose metrically and melodically unorthodox sixties pop-luxe hits, such as "Anyone Who Had a Heart" and "I Say a Little Prayer" (written with lyricist Hal David), were dismissed for two decades as square and Muzaky until Rock Snobs decided in the nineties that...

Customer Reviews

Fun but inessential!
Ok this is a very funny concept and makes for great reading on a trip. HOwever it is somewhat short. Some stuff is really true about rock snobbery but to some degree it falls short of its ambitions. Still it is worth a read.

Not essential but a lot of fun indeed
The subtitle reads "An Essential Lexicon," but it isn't. "Essential" connotes a comprehensiveness that this lacks, which indicates that this book was not meant for education so much as fun and humor, and in this it succeeds admirably.

So, what is a rock snob? Evidently, somewhat to my surprise, I am not. I'm a music fanatic, and I would have imagined that sufficient to gain rock snob status, but apparently not, since the book defines "rock snob" as: "reference term for the sort of pop connoisseur for whom the actual enjoyment of music is but a side dish to the accumulation of arcane knowledge." For me the actual enjoyment of the music has been paramount, so I am imagining that anyone who truly loves the music first is exempt, on technical grounds, from rock snobbishness.

The joy of the book comes from the way they simultaneously elevate and then deflate various figures and artifacts from the world of rock. Many of their characterizations are dead on. I've never understood the esteem in which many hold Burt Bacharach. Folks, it really is just elevator music, and I don't care how much Elvis Costello tries to pump his reputation. The authors write about such figures with wit and derisive humor. The lists that litter the book are marvelous, and usually dead on.

Plus, the book is fun to argue with. If you are a serious fan of music, you will spend a lot of time flipping through to see if your own candidates were included in the book, and a surprising number of the more arcane folks I searched for were to be found. For instance, I was amazed to see that Jim Dickinson, Dan Penn, The Fugs, and the Louvin Brothers showed up. I was somewhat disappointed that several of the folks I would have nominated were not, including: Can, Greg Sage and the Wipers (a monumental oversight), the Shoes, Moby Grape (though Skip Spence gets a nod), Robert Quine, Jack Logan (a shocker), R. Stevie Moore, the Buzzcocks (with an especial mention of their EP SPIRAL SCRATCH), the Mekons, Les Paul, the album HAVE MOICY!, guitar pioneer John Fahey, the Flying Burrito Brothers (though Gram Parsons, of course, has an entry), Rory Gallagher, and Second Edition (Johnny Lydon's aka Rotten project after the Sex Pistols). But like I said, this book isn't about completeness, but humor. There also is a cut off point. Few very recent bands receive a mention, even such crucial Rock Snob bands as Yo La Tengo (which inspired the wonderful ONION headline about a few dozen record store clerks dying at one of their concerts when the roof collapsed, crushing the crowd) fail to receive mention.

In the end, the book really isn't for aspiring rock snobs, but actual rock snobs who get all the references, know all the books and movies mentioned in the lists, and "get" the self-mocking nature of the whole affair. My only real disappointment with the book is that if you have a pretty good knowledge of rock, you aren't going to learn much new. But at least you can laugh about your own pretentiousness about imagining that to be the case.

Snobs and Snarks
The Lester Bangs Cosmological Sincerity Argument for Short Attention to an Entertainment (as espoused here by "Brock Pemberton") is so dull.

Laugh at the reference format of this book? Perhaps the suggested use is to, ah, reference it. While reading an encyclopedia of any sort is not the intended use it is a wonderful way to learn things that you don't already know. Not to confirm one's own opinions can be enlightening. Self-received wisdom is called solipsism.

Any claim to authority in the post-post-historical era is worth at least a half-smile, isn't it?

If the universe of content is suspended between the poles of Lester "Big" Bangs and the large, diffuse, glossy mags, then it has stopped expanding and no new content is possible. This being along the lines of saying "there will never be another Leslie West".

All truly hip writing is plagiarism, get over it. Ask any dead writer you care about after that five minutes is over.

I don't agree that the "Snob" humor is dull, perhaps a little mean at times. But if we can't dance on graves there will soon be no floor upon which to boogie; I find rather that Kemp and Daly do a fine job of meta-snobbery. Without being in on the joke which is also on them, they couldn't have written the book. This isn't nihilism, this is just the way we do things around here, as they say wherever things that are not online reviews are done. The Big Bangs Sincerity after the "'n' roll" was lost for him, now there's a nihilistic joke, with meth.

If you can't laugh at your own snobbery, you won't find this funny, and if you aren't entertained by an encyclopedia, have a TiVO partially full of old sitcoms, and use the word snark in any form then your universe is actually contracting, along with at least two corporeal aspects of it, one of which is your cerebellum.