Sex, Drugs and Arrogance

Rock ‘n’ Roll: sex, drugs, and arrogance. For as long as rock stars have been snorting cocaine and spending more on booze than they were paid for a gig, there have been some crucial ingredients to the typical rock and roll personality. It was all about the cool, the seemingly god-like persona that came with the worshipping fans. It was a part of the music itself: rock and roll was cool, it was awesome, it was sticking devil horns in the air and fighting the system. The thing was; you couldn’t stand atop a stage in front of thousands, and represent that kind of anti-establishment, hardcore, rock and roll ideal if you were modest.

Arrogance was the key. It was all about the idea that you were better than everyone and anyone else; that you could throw as many televisions from hotel windows as you felt necessary, and no-one could stop you. The most recent example of such refined rock-star behaviour has to be that of Liam Gallagher; renowned for informing people exactly where they could stick it, that he was better than sliced bread, and that he couldn’t give a monkeys what anyone else thought either way. As part of the world’s biggest British band, of course, it’s possible to see why he might have thought this. But the theme continues: Towers of London front-man Donny Tourette demonstrated in his 2007 appearance on Never Mind the Buzzcocks, as he acted up, smoked, and threw a tantrum on losing the show. Axl Rose, front-man of American rock legends, was too busy wiggling his hips in hot-pants to keep his own band together.

The arrogance, then, created part of the magic rock and roll: it placed the stars on a plinth, gave them the soap-box they needed to stand on and proclaim revolution to the masses. The question is: are those days gone? Is it still cool to be arrogant? Recently, the answer seems to be more and more: yes. Donny Tourette, following his Buzzcocks appearance, was branded ‘as punk as Enya.’ Liam Gallagher’s appearance at the 2010 Brit Awards saw him shout profanities at his audience and throw the microphone crowd-ward... and it struck an odd chord with people. It wasn’t cool. It wasn’t in the spirit of music today. U2 are headlining Glastonbury this year, and have been given control of their supporting acts: Dizzee Rascal is only allowed on because Bono and his pointless orange sunglasses have deemed him worthy. And though this is arrogance in a different sense, it’s still struck the same hollow chord. Glastonbury is an event for the people that pay, the fans that dedicate their time to watch their favourite artists, and even the starry-eyed party goers who are simply up for a good time. What right do Bono and his band of smug Irishmen have to control their support acts at a festival like Glasto? Rock and Roll arrogance has become like wearing sun-glasses inside: it’s just not cool anymore.

The other side of things, however, can’t be ignored. Arrogance does bring the magic to rock ‘n’ roll. The scene wouldn’t be what it is today without rock icons of the past strutting about as though Jesus was their warm-up act. In some ways, it may be that arrogance is a lost part of Rock music, forgotten in the past, in the days when Alice Cooper was ramming swords through his own legs, and Mick Jagger couldn’t tell you what he did yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before. Despite this, however, Rock music wouldn’t be what it is today without rock-gods like G‘n’R, The Rolling Stones, Alice Cooper, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and so many more bringing rock music to the people as though it was something other-worldy, this anti-establishment, loud, sex-drugs-and-tear-the-roof-off music. The arrogance is what made rock and roll, rock and roll; it made it more than music; it made it a lifestyle, an attitude, a culture.

So maybe today the arrogance is gone from rock and roll, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Times have changed, and moved on, and music today is about the entertainment and the commercialism, instead of the cultures and the revolutions that it used to be. But this makes looking back at the past all the more magical. Those were the days when music had a meaning, had a purpose, had a message. And to try and bring that kind of spirit into music today would be like putting Noel Edmunds in a suitcase in order to send him somewhere far far away: you might really really want to... but it just isn’t going to fit.