Musical spares
For those who cannot rock, we replace you. When classic acts tour, many fans seek the brand over a specific lineup of musicians,
Talk about drama. One guy suffers dementia and has to leave the band, another is charged with threatening to kill two people and has to leave the band, a third faces total hearing loss and has to leave the band, and a fourth gets fed up and says, in a more diplomatic way, “The hell with it . . . I’m leaving the band.”
It’s been a challenging couple of years for AC/DC, the revered hard rock pioneers whose rigorous adher- ence to pummelling three-chord rhythms bathed in sexual innuendo has helped it navigate musical peaks and valleys for four decades. But things may be about to change. With only one original member remaining at the conclusion of their current tour, AC/DC faces the existential question plaguing all rock acts in the twilight of their careers: Is it time to pack it in?
Logic says yes. You don’t want to die onstage.
Or hit the road with zero original members. You have your legacy to consider, your pride. Your dignity, for God’s sake. Then again, when has dignity ever entered the equation in rock ’n’ roll?
The Beatles — the most revered rock band of all time — ended their stratospheric career not in a blaze of glory but in a litany of badmouthing and lawsuits that dragged on for years.
The Rolling Stones, who knew their days as cultural rabble-rousers were at an end, went disco in the ’70s and spent the next four decades trying to regain lost credibility.
The Who, after the death of drummer Keith Moon in 1978, staged a much ballyhooed farewell tour, then — tossing integrity to the wind — regrouped a dozen times, to increasingly diminished returns.
And AC/DC — a multimillion-dollar brand that transcends time, space and demographics — will do what it has to, to survive.
“AC/DC are much too large and lucrative a corporation to simply shut down,” critic Eduardo Rivadavia told ultimateclassicrock.com.
“And I think we’ve seen enough evidence that audiences will keep on buying tickets to hear those songs — just as long as someone, anyone, is head-banging convincingly in a schoolboy outfit.”
To be fair, it’s only in recent years that the idea of turning bands into franchises — a sort of musical McDonald’s — has been bandied about. If you look back to rock’s golden age, none of the artists talked about surviving beyond the length of their latest hit single.
But then something weird happened that gave these fly-by-night rock acts a second life, and a third.
First, it was FM radio that moved music from a one-size-fits-all mandate to a billion tiny sub-genres.
Then it was satellite radio, YouTube and self-assembled Internet playlists that splintered musical genres, until even the niches had niches.
Suddenly, there was no unity, no consensus, just musical cult acts that couldn’t get traction in a mainstream culture devoted entirely to Top 40 dance pop and female empowerment anthems.
This, of course, was great news for the classic rockers of yesterday.
Because there was no one to replace them, they never had to retire.
Consider the top touring acts of the ’80s: Bruce Springsteen, U2, Rolling Stones, Madonna, Michael Jackson, David Bowie and Pink Floyd, all (reasonably) contemporary at the time.
Thirty years later, with the excep- tion of Adele, Beyoncé and Justin Bieber, the top grossers are all from the same era: Springsteen, U2, Rolling Stones, Madonna, Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd) and Paul McCartney.
And while AC/DC enjoyed their greatest commercial success with 1980’s Back in Black — the bestselling rock album of all time — their 2008 Black Ice tour holds the record as the fourth highest grossing, with their current “Rock or Bust” tour not far behind.
So it’s no surprise that instead of lamenting the loss of vocalist Brian Johnson, himself a replacement for deceased frontman Bon Scott, the band hired Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose and issued a terse statement thanking Johnson for his “dedication to the band” and wishing him well on his “future ventures.”
In other words: “So long, sucker. You won’t be hard to replace. We did it once before.”
But that’s the thing about rock bands, especially those from the ’70s: they were pretty faceless to begin with, so replacing ailing members, even singers, isn’t the big deal you might think.
Can you name the lead singers of Boston, Styx, Foghat and Chicago?
Last year, Foreigner played Kitchener’s Centre in the Square without one original member.
Queen has been headlining stadium shows with Adam Lambert in place of deceased frontman Freddie Mercury since 2011, with Paul Rodgers filling in for six years before that.
At this point, there’s a new generation who doesn’t know Mercury even existed. Jefferson Starship has had 37 different members at last count. Other than Grace Slick, who can name one?
In the end, it’s about branding. You pay $200 per ticket for the AC/DC sound and that’s what you get.
Whether the original singer — or entire classic lineup — has retired or kicked the mortal coil completely is not the point. It’s the experience that counts.
And in the world of 2016 pop culture, it doesn’t pay to ask too many questions.