
In the first of a new column we Rewind back to 1975, where freelance writer Michael Gilman examines the music and movies of his birth year and how he faced turning thirty and survived. |
Watching the MusicMichel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind) directs Australian pop starlet Kylie Minogue in "Come Into My World." |
Getting to Know...For more than twenty years, R.E.M. has been filling the void as far as radio-friendly rock acts are concerned. Where to begin? What to avoid? This month, Shel Desormeaux is your guide to the Best (and Worst) of R.E.M. |
![]() Advice To Graduates Each month, Zayne Reeves addresses a tearful rhythm nation. This month: An imaginary conversation with T-Bone Burnett. |
Couch FestivalToo lazy to go to a real film festival? Try one of our couch festivals. This month: "No Ordinary Love" |
I Wanna See The Nashville LightsZayne Reeves' new comic starring some familiar faces in country music. Drawings by Veronica Ebert. |
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What Went WrongFrom a beautiful Japanese film to a commercial J Lo vehicle, we look at how the recent Shall We Dance remake failed to be a respectable film. |
9 x 5Our contributors pick five things they're digging this month. |
Rewind: 1975 - It Was Thirty Years Ago Today…
By Michael Gilman
I’d like to tell you that thirty is the new twenty. That sort of phrase has been thrown around a lot lately, but it just isn’t true. It was the first birthday milestone that I dreaded instead of looked forward to. At sixteen I could drive, at eighteen I was an adult, at twenty-one I could drink anywhere I wanted. At thirty I can still do all of those things, except that now I need my wife’s permission. I needed to realize that all wasn’t lost. Just listen to Roger Daltrey who sang, “I hope I die before I get old.” He’s gotta be double my age. And that’s when it hit me; The best way for me to come to terms with turning thirty was to experience the culture from thirty years ago. I had to try to get in touch with my birth year. Besides, looking through the artists that released albums in 1975 is like reading a personal ‘best of’ list.
I did something similar for my “Logan’s Run” birthday. In the movie Logan’s Run, the citizens of an eternally youthful society are forced to commit suicide before their 30th birthdays in a ritualistic ceremony titled “Carrousel.” Overall the movie is pretty weak Barbarella meets Planet of the Apes meets Battlestar Gallactica and if that doesn’t date me, I don’t know what will. Watching Logan’s Run was a bit of a depressing way to spend a 29th birthday, but I think the most disturbing part was seeing Michael York (Logan) in a kimono.
Fortunately, 1975 can boast some better films. The studio system had crashed in the sixties and color TV was finding its way into in millions of homes. Movies were struggling to keep a hold of audiences. There was a lot of experimentation in films of that era. The stories were getting much edgier. Porno was considered ‘art’.
Consider The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a film that openly deals with homosexuality, transvestites, cross-dressing and a myriad of other taboos that just weren’t dinnertime conversation. It’s a movie that never would have been made in a previous decade. At the time of course, it was a bomb. People hated it. While I would never consider Rocky Horror to be a great movie, I would be remiss not to mention it. Once it finally crept its way into cult culture, it changed the way a lot of people think.
Tommy was another musical 1975 release. Watching the quintessential Rock Opera again you’d think it was partly inspired by Rocky Horror. The visuals are way over the top. I’d like to know what director Ken Russell had in mind when he shot Ann-Margret writhing in a room full of baked beans. He was probably thinking: “Oh my God, I managed to get Ann-Margret to writhe around in a room full of baked beans!” I don’t know how, but it worked. Ann-Margret was rewarded for her flailing with an Oscar nomination. I’d also like to know what the hell Russell was thinking when he cast Jack Nicholson in a singing part. The man cannot sing.
Jack would redeem himself. Far and away the best picture of 1975 was One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. It won Oscars in all of the major categories including Best Picture, Director (Milos Forman), Screenplay, Actress, not to mention a Best Actor statuette for Jack Nicholson. Nicholson is at his very best in this simple story of a man trying to beat the system and stay sane in a nut house. He faces opposition from the malevolent Nurse Ratched (expertly played by Louise Fletcher). Her Oscar-winning role is played with such a deadpan wickedness that I found myself yelling at the screen. The Academy got it right.
1975 will also be remembered as the year that Steven Spielberg got his feet wet (as it were) and cemented his career with Jaws. Who could forget the mechanical shark that terrorized the coastal waters of the United States? This film made people around the world afraid to swim in open water. It wasn’t just a movie - it was a phenomenon.
Also deserving honorable mention are Dog Day Afternoon, Nashville, Shampoo and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon was also released in 1975. I mention it not because it think it is a great film (I found it long and boring), but because of its technical innovation. Special lenses were developed for the film in order shoot scenes lit only by candlelight. Barry Lyndon is very well shot. Prior to 1975, it would have been impossible to achieve decent exposure on 35mm film stock. Some of the Cinema-Verite ideals were finding their way into mainstream pictures.
As good as some of the films of 1975 were, they truly pale in comparison to the year’s musical highlights. 1975 can arguably be called one of the greatest ever in music. It’s like a tour through the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame: Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, The Eagles, Led Zeppelin, John Lennon, Elton John, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Neil Young, Rod Stewart and more all released albums that year. And not just run of the mill, fulfill your record contract albums, but some of the greats. I would consider Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run, Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti, and Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here to be some of the greatest releases of all time. As if they weren’t enough, Joni Mitchell, Alice Cooper, Kiss, Queen, Rush, The Who, Fleetwood Mac and Paul Simon released albums as well. Paul Simon’s Still Crazy After All These Years would go on to win Album of the Year, while Art Garfunkel’s solo release was largely ignored. Justice. If there was one black mark on the year in music, it was the Grammy awarded for Record of the Year. The Captain and Tennille won for “Love Will Keep Us Together”. Ugh.
I think my favorite release of 1975 is Born to Run, but there are a lot of really close seconds. It’s hard to write something about this album that hasn’t already been written. Springsteen was able to give a voice to the working class. When I hear “Thunder Road,” I can see a movie playing in my mind. The lyrics convey scenes and experiences that are so easy to identify with. They are full of angst and hope. You just want to grab your girlfriend, get in the beat up old Chevy and drive away from your problems.
Wish You Were Here is one of those close seconds. How on earth are you supposed to follow up one of the best-selling albums of all time? Make an album that’s just as moody and then attack the record company. “Have a Cigar” is a great jab at the executives riding the success of Dark Side of the Moon. “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” bookends the recording, and serves as a nice tribute to former band member Syd Barrett. It also has a fantastic album cover depicting a man on fire shaking hands nonchalantly with another man on a film studio back lot. It’s worthy of a thousand words.
The Watergate scandal started the year off with a bang. Jimmy Hoffa disappeared. There were two assassination attempts on U.S. President Gerald Ford during the year and the communists were winning Vietnam. I didn’t really live it, but I’ve learned to love it through the music and culture of the time. Boundaries were being pushed. People were becoming more independent. It wasn’t just a few hippies that were skeptical of the way their governments were working. There was a growing cynicism that would only be altered by rampant drug use, disco and Reaganomic materialism.
Thirty years have meant a few differences for me too. I’ve noticed I have a few hairs in my beard that are a little too blonde, if you know what I mean. I find I complain more and will tolerate less. Pain lingers. Scars don’t heal as fast as they used to if at all. I’m useless for 2-3 days if I don’t stretch before hockey. My hair is thinner. Imagine what that paragraph will look like in another thirty years:
I complain constantly. The pain lets up now and then. Scars don’t heal. Hockey is little more than a memory. I’m useless for 2-3 days if I don’t stretch before picking up the remote. My hair is synthetic.
I wouldn’t say that I’m looking forward to 40, but I do long to say things like “You call this music? When I was your age we listened to bands like Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, and Warrant. Turn that crap off!” Who knows, by the time I’m forty I might even mean it.
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