I
In the rock ‘n’ roll history books, Jonathan Richman usually gets a brief mention as the link between The Velvet Underground and the British punk movement. The story goes that as a teenager in Boston, Massachusetts in the late 1960s, Richman adored Lou Reed’s avant-garde art-rockers, going to dozens of their concerts, writing reviews in magazines, and even crashing in their manager’s apartment in New York. When he started singing and playing guitar with his own group, The Modern Lovers, he simplified the Velvets’ urban drone, thus persuading the Sex Pistols and their peers that you didn’t need to be a virtuoso to make a record. A couple of chords and your own point of view were enough.
More like this:
— The song of health after illness
– Dusty Springfield’s remarkable comeback
– The Picassos of modern music
But if you were to picture a pop star who combined the Velvets’ druggy hipster cool and the Sex Pistols’ sneery, snotty aggression, they could hardly be further from Richman. For more than four decades, his songs have tended to be warm, whimsical, humorous, and utterly uncynical. They don’t urge violent revolution, they urge us to delight in the buildings and the nature we see all around us every day. They aren’t about heroin or sado-masochism, they’re about fairgrounds, launderettes and long conversations – and that’s before we get to such children’s singalongs as I’m A Little Dinosaur and Hey There Little Insect. A typical lyric goes like this: “People all over the world are good / People all over the world ain’t bad / But if they keep being snobs about it / They ain’t gonna get what they wish they had / And that’s affection.” No one, it’s fair to say, would mistake those lines for Venus In Furs or Anarchy in the UK. But Richman’s unabashed positivity may be more radical and more daring than any of the bands who influenced and were influenced by him.