Time code makes a classic?

by B. J. Carter
Coastal Journal staff

Thom Yorke has just said something of interest to me.  In an interview with England’s NME, he said new Radiohead album In Rainbows is their “classic album,” their Revolver, their Hunky Dory.  He didn’t mention the songs in particular, just the 45:00 length.  He referred to this time code as their rock statement, which is a big deal for a band that has aggressively tried to kill rock over the last decade. 

Intuitively, I know he is right.  45 minutes is about as much of an album I can take in one sitting, unless it’s The Decline of British Sea Power by British Sea Power.  Since classic albums such as Revolver were arranged to be taken in one sitting, that length seems right to me. 

But it got me thinking:  What is meant by an album longer than 45 minutes?  Significantly longer than 45 minutes? 

Most contemporary concept albums, and even some of the oldies, are not significantly longer than 45 minutes, but they’re usually stabs at storytelling, a markedly different affair than making a rock statement.  Concept/story albums are almost always artists’ attempts at escaping themselves by adopting alternative characters, perspectives, places, and themes - Sgt. Pepper’s being the classic example.  Though Sgt. Pepper’s has enjoyed decades of worship for its technical innovation and cultural resonance, it’s rarely pitched as the Beatles’ classic album, at least not lately.  That honor most often goes to Revolver, followed closely by either Rubber Soul or Abbey Road.

David Bowie has worn many hats, but which album presents the “real” David Bowie?  I don’t think he’s told us, personally, but Hunky Dory seems a more legitimate choice than Low, which is too Brian Eno-y to be a “Bowie” classic.

The Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute, on the other hand, clocks in at nearly 80 minutes, divided into five suites rather than songs - so not a rock album, then, although principle songwriter Omar Rodrigue-Lopez doesn’t think it unreasonable to listen to it from start to finish.  “You watch don’t watch movies in bits and pieces, why should you listen to an album that way?” or something like that.  The fact is, some movies should only be watched in bits and pieces anyway, if at all.  The afro-ed wizards of the Mars Volta would be unhappy with any classification we could give their bizarre album, but I think some artists just don’t know when to stop.  The Mars Volta may know something about that, I don't know.  For now, let’s call Frances the Mute . . . a meditation.

Is the difference comparable to the difference between short stories and novels?  When I read a great short story, it never occurs to me to select a “favorite passage” because the experience of it is so fleeting compared to a great novel, so I’ll just reading it again.  I rarely read novels all the way through more than once.  Selecting a favorite passage or passages from a novel is like trying to make sense of the novel itself through its exemplary moments. 

Conversely, there isn’t a single Cure album I can sit through entirely, they always feel longer than their actual lengths.  I could elaborate all day, however, on the moments of brilliance on Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me.  But can you really pick out a favorite tune on Revolver?  It’s everything that was ever great about the Beatles wrapped into a 45 minute statement:  The infectious pop melodies, their unmistakable sense of harmony, the simple refrains, splashes heavy psychedelia, experimental instrumentation, studio wizardry, and a refreshing sense of discovery.  These elements were present throughout most of their recordings but rarely all at once or in such fine balance.  Really, Revolver was as far as they were going to evolve musically; every boundary they subsequently crossed bore allusions to Revolver.

And double albums don’t really count; they’re like psychic “episodes.”

It seems that the rock statement is intrinsically tied to the artists’ notion of Self.  It is a concise but thorough presentation of ideas indicative of the artists’ essential identities.  Like film auteurs, the most compelling recording artists have made or been making the same album their entire careers; all the albums are one album encompassing the artists’ deep-rooted interests, fears, and desires.  The most artistically successful of these present a compelling, novel vision of these internal states, even if the results are mixed from album to album.