Two in a row from 1971—I must be in a rut. But, let’s face it, that was the era when I
first discovered a lot of music for the first time, and I still think records
made in that era (pre-1976) are some of the best rock records ever. What they
mean by “classic rock.” It’s all “post-Beatles” in the sense of their enduring
influence on how recordings should sound.
And today’s song, in honor of Rod Stewart’s 69th birthday,
is from one of the first rock LPs I ever got. This song was supposed to be the hit from his LP, Every Picture Tells a Story, but it got surpassed by its “B” side: “Maggie
May,” which went on to top the charts in both the U.S. and the UK, and became
one of Mod Rod’s signature songs. The LP
topped the charts in both countries as well, and I bought it when I’d heard
four tracks from it on the radio and liked each one. So rather than buy the “double-A-side”
45, I bought the album. And I still have
great love for it. Even recently got a new vinyl copy pressed by Mobile Fidelity.
I was not a Rod Stewart fan and never became one. Only recently have I gotten into his work
with the Faces and his LPs previous to Picture. But this LP was special. Stewart found the
perfect strings as settings for his warm, raspy voice—mandolin, violin, slide,
and bright Brit acoustic strums.
“Reason to Believe” was written by Tim Hardin and recorded
in 1965; many others have recorded it and still more performed it. But this version by Rod owns it, in my
estimation, from the stately opening piano to the Wurlitzer-style organ
sustained in the background. And that
little “oh” late in the song kills me every time, right before the fiddle comes
in again and they take it on home.
I like Rod’s version because he doesn’t sound bitter about
it; he’s very open about the fact that he’s willing to be a patsy, if
necessary, if only because “someone like you makes it hard to live without
somebody else.” At 12, I had no idea
what that would be like, but I let the song convince me that there was a reason
to believe I would at some point, that such reasons do exist.
At the time—8th grade—I was losing my faith in the teachings of the Church, and it seems to me that, in a certain mood, I listened to the song
as if it were about finding “a reason to believe—knowing that you lied /
Straight-faced, while I cried.” In other
words, the song carried more than its overt meaning for me, and, though I wasn’t
always able to manifest such a mature “no hard feelings” outlook, I liked the
idea of the song summing up my feeling about childish things, like faith.
Which is why I say “bittersweet”—the bitterness of moving on and looking back
is subsumed for a moment in the glance that sees that’s just how it was. It’s about finding a way “to leave the past
behind.” Something 8th graders graduating from Catholic school might need. And
that “someone like you” who might make me “give everything about myself”? Let’s
just say I wanted to believe in her, even while dreading such a thing might
happen.
Happy birthday, Rod.
Every picture tells a story, don’t it?
Ron Wood, Rod Stewart, Ronnie Lane |
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