The Rock Star’s Burden
The Big Chill generation has high expectations for its rock stars. To satisfy, the greatest of them must at least aspire to the mantel of “spokesmen for a generation” or at least to the kind of social relevance that is the raison d’etre of John Mellencamp’s new album, Freedom’s Road.
The idea that every Elvis is also an Elijah (or at least a Ralph Nader) is one of the more bizarre legacies of the 1960s. Blame it on Dylan, I guess, although he stopped writing primarily political stuff in 1964.
Somewhere around the middle of Ronald Reagan’s first term John Mellencamp seems to have decided to shoulder the rock star’s burden and take it upon himself to address the state of the union semi-annually over a music bed of AOR rock. He dropped his silly stage name (Cougar), turned Farm Aid activist, and crafted a string of hits out of anthemic Americana scented with working class, farm-belt populism that rang everybody’s bells.
Jack and Diane, Pink Houses, Rain on the Scarecrow and Small Town were great records. But they spoke in a language relentlessly stripped of controversy, as bland and considered as the public language of speech writers and political ads. The Pink Houses video looked like the Morning in America commercial for chrissake.
It’s no surprise then that the first single from Freedom’s Road, Our County, broke as the soundtrack to a Chevy commercial (complete with Mellencamp’s new, mature, and eerily Neil Diamonesque voice).
This is rock that a focus group would love right down to Mellencamp’s patented Americana agitpop sound: two guitars, bass and drums; twangy leads; strummed acoustics; singalong choruses; all recorded in a garage (albeit a well equipped one), and spiced with fiddles and keyboards. It’s a sound that fits all kinds of playlists–country, classic rock, CHR. Like someone running for president, Mellencamp relentlessly courts the middle.
Freedom’s Road alternates between songs that are bluntly anti-neocon and songs that are dreadful, up-with-people homilies.
I’m an American, I’m an American
I respect you and your point of view
I’m an American, I’m an American
And I wish you good luck with whatever you do
I can hear it playing as the confetti floats down around Hillary Clinton next summer.
The Americans is Freedom’s Road at it’s worst. (Actually, Freedom’s Road at its worst is Joan Baez’s cameo on Jim Crow, a tuneless anti-racism song so generic I can’t figure out if it’s about anything at all. It’s all gesture.)
Freedom’s Road at its most surprising is Rural Route, a nightmare flip side to Small Town, a story of amber alerts, child rape, meth addiction and murder in the heartland. It’s the album’s most focused song with a clear narrative and a strong, effective message. It ought to surprise people who buy the album looking for feel-good anthems like Our Country.
But Freedom’s Road at its best comes last, on a hidden track that’s not even indexed on the CD’s TOC (it plays after a couple of MINUTES of silence at the end of the album’s last official song).
Rodeo Clown is a great political rocker in the FM radio-friendly spirit of Eve of Destruction (which I’d love to hear Mellencamp cover) or Fortunate Son, a midtempo rocker with an Exile on Main Street chorus that is an early candidate for song of the year. It’s the one moment on the record where the polemical and poetic come together to devastating effect.
Well there’s blood on the hands of the rich politicians
Red is the color of the sand and the sea
Blood on the hands of an arrogant nation
Who start all the bleeding over their policies…She had blood on her face so she had to get even
She hemorrhaged and bled all over the land
There’s blood on the hands of those that keep silent
Who won’t count the bodies dead in the sand
The song resolves with the image of the bloody red eyes of the rodeo clown whose identity beneath the makeup is unmistakable.
If the rest of Freedom’s Road were as bloody and bold as Rodeo Clown the album would be a stone classic. Instead it’s the perfect album for the iTunes era where consumers can pick the plums and eschew the flavorless part of the pudding.
One thing I wonder though–did Mellencamp bury the album’s most political and best song to call less attention to it or to call more attention to it? I don’t know, but I wish Mellencamp had made it easier for me to put it on repeat.



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February 27, 2007 at 9:38 pm
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