Bob Stanley's Yeah Yeah Yeah is an ambitious work, setting to out cover no less than the entire history of pop music from just before the beginning of the rock & roll era (specifically, the publication of Britain's first weekly pop chart with the advent of the 45 rpm single as the primary medium of distribution) until the onset of the digital age with the arrival of mp3s and file-sharing. Stanley looks at pop and all of it's many strains through the decades, including rock, soul, folk, electronica, hip-hop, disco and others, and endeavors to show how the origins, influences, and evolutions of each were threads in a wider, ever-changing tapestry of popular music as a whole. The book forms its narrative by looking at the monthly and yearly pop charts chronologically, examining what was popular, then using the charts as a framework to zoom in on key songs, people, record labels, and events to illuminate his points.
Stanley aims to follow two broad themes here. The first has to do with the fact that, unlike many pop or rock history books, "Yeah Yeah Yeah" is not another appraisal of the established "canon" that has been built up by critics over the years. Volumes have been written about what critics think is important, but Stanley is much less concerned with asking "What is the critical consensus" than with "What were people actually listening to?" The book emphasizes the "popular" component of "pop" music.
The second overarching theme is the relationship between different genres under the broad umbrella of "pop", and their influence on each other over the decades. Whether it's dance, rock, reggae, hip-hip, punk, or electronica, no genre exists in a vacuum. Stanley endeavors to show not only how the different styles of pop music developed, but how they developed in relation to each other, drawing influence from what came before (or concurrently) and setting the stage for what came later.
Even with close to 900 pages to work with, fitting everything in is still a daunting task. Stanley helps to sketch in the big picture by focusing in on little details here and there. He excels at brief, thumbnail descriptions: Chuck Berry had the "look of a card sharp blessed with luck" whose songs "sounded like the tail fins on Cadillacs". Johnny Cash had "a wood-carved face and a look of resolute danger; when he sang his voice could go deeper than a coal mine". Sly Stone's early records had the "feel of a Sunday-school riot", while the harmonies of CSN sounded "like the first rays of dawn". The book is peppered with illuminating anecdotes and observations that serve to illustrate the larger points, such as a suitably apocalyptic description of Altamont, or a charming account of a Christmas Day charity show played by the Sex Pistols.
There are a couple of things to be aware of. The author is British, so the book takes a very British point of view in many respects. The British charts are used as the primary reference, and there are entire chapters devoted to things that were never as big in the States as they were in England. Thus, Elvis and the Beatles obviously get their own chapters, but there are entire chapters devoted to glam (as well as a whole separate chapter on Marc Bolan and David Bowie), chapters on the post-punk of Depeche Mode and New Order, and chapters on British pastoral folk-rock (think Fairport Convention). Not that any of this should be a problem; readers used to an America-centric outlook will simply have to recalibrate their point of view.
Second, rather than providing a strictly detached outlook, Stanley frequently takes the opportunity to express his personal tastes and opinions. On the one hand, this allows his passion to shine through, giving a fervent eloquence to his writing when talking about those things that he feels strongest about, both positively and negatively. On the other hand, some of his opinions are bound to meet some resistance with different readers. This is especially true for those whose tastes run more towards rock (as mine tends to when push comes to shove), as Stanley can be quite disdainful of the post-sixties rock canon.
Specifically, Stanley cites 1967 and the Monterey Pop Fest as the demarcation line when rock became self-serious, pretentious, and “heavy”, as he puts it, purposely isolating itself from the more populist, lighter fare of “pop”. The book tends to sniff at most rock after that, especially what he decries as the insular and arbitrary “classic rock canon”. There are exceptions, notably the watershed 70's punk revolution and it's early 80s descendant post-punk, which were by their very nature, a repudiation of rock’s perceived self-absorption.
Stanley gives his reasons (which do have a point, though he tosses around the dreaded term "rockist" on more than one occasion), but for me personally it was a bit much to swallow to hear him champion, say, Sweet over Led Zeppelin or Donovan over Bob Dylan. Still, there is an astute chapter on early 80s FM rock and another very insightful chapter on heavy metal and it's seemingly endless appeal and ability to weather cultural shifts that have snuffed out many other genres.
For me personally, the first 2/3 of the book were the most interesting, as I am much more familiar with (and tend to be a fan of) the mainstream pop and rock from the eras Stanley writes about. Once the chronicle reached the mid-80s/early 90s development and rise of electronica/house/techno/etc., it was difficult to maintain the same interest level (though the quality of writing seemed just as good). I listen to a reasonably wide swath of music, but the vast bulk of those styles really do not appeal to me at all. I was able to read and enjoy the earlier chapters on hip-hop even though I don;t really listen to that either, but for whatever reason I found myself really skimming through the last couple of chapters.
Whether or not you agree with Stanley’s personal opinions, his passion is undeniable. When describing the music that has really moved him, be it a Beach Boys song, a Motown track, a punk anthem, a pioneering techno track, or a 70s bubblegum pop song, his eloquence and unabashed enthusiasm are infectious, drawing the reader in. Stanley is both professional critic and professional musician, but he is also at times simply a fan, eager to share his discovery of joy with others. One might not agree with Stanley's personal opinions, but any music fan knows the giddy rush that only comes when getting lost in a favorite song. No matter your musical preference, that is a universal feeling that this book ultimately seeks to celebrate, and in that it does a remarkable job.
One more thing: It’s handy to have access to YouTube or an internet radio account while reading this, as listening to the songs he’s writing about adds a whole new dimension.
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