It is hard to take songs about the music business very seriously. At the end of the day, it is difficult to feel sorry for rock stars. Too many people want to feel the heat of the spotlight for themselves, and would sacrifice an organ or two for a shot at the big-time. Watch the masochistic humilio-fest of Canadian/American Idol sometime if you don’t believe me.
I missed the Grapes of Wrath when they had their late 1980s moment. I was listening to intense guys from London and LA scream at me in those years, (or alternately, geriatrics with out-of-tune fiddles), so I never heard them play in their prime. Peace of Mind was their big hit here in Canada, but Lucky Man, their attempt to put music industry frustration into song, is a bit of a lost gem. I stumbled across it while digging through someone’s CD collection, and it has stayed with me ever since.
Like a lot of their better songs, it is an appealing mix of pure pop melody with the sort of chimey electric 12-string guitars briefly popular in the 1980s. At their best they sound a bit like REM in a non-weird phase. What really made them popular was the two lead singers, who sang together almost constantly, weaving plaintive harmonies around their high, clear voices.
Lucky Man is an attempt at cynicism, but the band is utterly incapable of pulling it off. They try and describe their ‘lucky man’, an evil mogul who easily manipulates “small town boys nowhere going”, but the irony never takes hold. Instead, the bright melody and sweet chorus completely belies their attempt at righteous outrage. They end up instead just sounding a little bewildered, unable to believe that the world does not share their optimism. “And with a knowing tone, the famous dreams unfold…” sings Tom Hooper, but his world weary lyric is implausible. All you hear is hope, hope and excitement. The band was from Kelowna, BC, and in the melody you can hear the fresh faced wonder that town habitually wears, and the excitement everyone feels when they first drive over the mountains, and challenge the world.
If there is any pattern to the songs I have written about, it is about how every song needs a context if it is really going to take hold of you. The song and some bit of your own life need to connect - suddenly you see the world through someone else’s eyes, and the whole picture gets brighter and more interesting.
The Grapes broke up in acrimony a couple of years after Lucky Man. Maybe that is why this song sticks with me, and has acquired an air of potent sadness that was not there in the first place. In the soaring chorus of Lucky Man their hope and optimism defied the indifference of a tough business. In real life they were defeated. And if you listen to the song, you can hear the moment when it could have gone either way.