Rod Stewart
The eternal Smiler. By Mat Snow.
“WELL DONE Boris, no hard feelings Pete Townshend! – Rod xxx.” So tweeted Sir Rod Stewart the day the UK’s General Election result happened to chime with Stewart’s latest acclamation as the LP chart’s number one alpha male. You’re In My Heart, an orchestral reboot of sundry canonical Modney moments, beat The Who’s comeback album to the top of the charts.
Saluting the most divisive British premier for many a year, and then getting involved in a brouhaha with security in Florida on New Year’s Eve, are not the only unguarded moments when Rod, now 75, plays fast and loose with a fund of public affection granted few other national and global treasures of the music scene. Rod is the perennially indulged, instantly forgiven Jack the Lad – even when crowing I’m All Right Jack, a pileup of paradoxes twinning sensitive folkie and blinged-up vulgarian, Caledonian dreamer and diamond geezer, singer of genius and shameless schmaltzmerchant, old softie and borderline git. And maybe this last accounts for his relatability, his lovability. Who among us hasn’t dropped the odd bollock? Who among us wouldn’t bloody love to be Rod Stewart?
In a 50-year catalogue, it’s also true that consistent excellence is mostly front-loaded and fitful thereafter. Through R&B, soul and folk, and on to pop, rock and disco, this north London player has proved himself eager to move with the times, though synth-heavy, click-track productions have at times corseted a voice that thrives on face-to-face musical interaction. Beset by songwriting droughts, quality control of material has often faltered; record-making stutters from matter of pride to contractual obligation and, intermittently, back.
However, as this overview of the solo artiste will demonstrate – and complaints about the omission of Blondes Have More Fun and Tonight I’m Yours to the usual address – when bad boy Rod is good, he is very, very good.
“…the perennially indulged, instantly forgiven Jack the Lad…”