Popular Music (2005) Volume 24/3. Copyright 2005 Cambridge University Press, pp. 357367 doi:10.

.1017/S0261143005000565 Printed in the United Kingdom

Elvis Costello, the empire of the E chord, and a magic moment or two
DAVID BRACKETT
Abstract
The phrase this magic moment recurs throughout Elvis Costellos Its Time (1996). An allusion to pop history the Drifters This Magic Moment (1960) is thus used in the service of a fatalistic narrative that manages to evoke both the revenge and guilt famously associated with Costellos early career and the early 1960s romanticism of Brill Building pop. The musical magic moment of the song arrives in a ringing E major chord at the end of the chorus, played in open position on the electric guitar. The use of this E major chord references another line of pop music history, one that stretches back to the formation of folk-rock in the mid-1960s. This paper serves as an example of how one song creates a series of magic moments that resonate densely with simultaneous histories.

To think of magic moments in music is to emphasise the temporal, albeit in at least two different ways. The arrival of a magic moment focuses our attention on the present, creating one of the few instances in life when we are not reflecting on the past or future. Yet, reflecting on magic moments creates the opposite effect, plunging one into the world of memory. Writing about magic moments thus raises a paradox, in that one scrutinises a past experience that eclipsed a sense of past and future when it initially occurred. The heightened narrativity of such a re-telling initially limits the possibility of external verification of the magic moment in question, forcing the reader to accept on faith the implied distinction between magical and non-magical moments. In other words, the act of recounting ones memories makes no claims to approach the real, instead adopting a rhetorical posture closer to that of storytelling, and thus, of fiction (de Certeau 1984, p. 79). These distinctions between an experience of present-ness and of dwelling on the past, between magical and mundane moments collapse as experiences of the present come to be understood as already inflected by condensations of memory.1 The choice of a magic moment for this essay was sparked by the proximity of one such moment to the words this magic moment, as they occur in the following passage of Elvis Costellos Its Time (shown in Example 1). This passage transports me from the present to 1996 when I first heard Elvis Costello sing it, initiating a paradigmatic swirl of associations that leads to the Drifters 1960 recording of This Magic Moment (see Example 2).2 The lyrics of both of these songs reflect on the complex sense of multiple temporalities implied by the notion of a magic moment. The phrase, this magic moment, occurs twice in the lyrics of the Drifters recording: the first of these moments, the singer tells us, is so different and so new because I kissed you; the second occurs while your lips are close to mine suggesting that

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Example 1. Elvis Costello, Its Time (0:320:42).

Example 2. The Drifters, This Magic Moment (0:130:20).

repeating the kiss is enough to make that magic feel like the first time. Both of these lines are set to a classic doo-wop I-vi-IV-V harmonic progression, but are updated with the uptown sound of swirling strings inaugurated by the Drifters release from the previous year, There Goes My Baby, and modified by the Latin tinge permeating popular music during the period. The magic moments in the lyrics of Its Time, on the other hand, feel more like they may be the last time such moments occur. In the latter song, this magic moment, first concludes when that cigarette ends; then in successive verses, it concludes when they turn out the light; and finally it conclud[es] our mutual fate. Thus, the Drifters magic moments evoke beginnings, kisses and eternity, while Costellos conjure up conclusions marked by burning cigarettes and extinguished lights. The magic moments in both songs become metonyms, evoking the past in the present, but they differ in their relationship to a notion of originary pleasure: the Drifters, by perpetuating the belief that it can be recovered and last forever; Costello, by doubting that it ever existed in the first place. Costellos fatalistic narrative, so reminiscent of what he termed the revenge and guilt that saturated his early approach to lyrics, refers us to the earlier, sweeter magical moment of the Drifters through the use of a borrowed verbal phrase. But one other aspect of Its Time evokes the pop music world of the 1950s and early-1960s, another possibly, yet possibly not, accidental instance of quotation or near-quotation, this time occurring in the succession of sonic events. I already mentioned the so-called doo-wop harmonic progression employed in This Magic Moment, a series of chords almost as common in early rock n roll as the twelve-bar blues progression. In the passage following the words This Magic Moment in Its Time, its possible to hear shards of this doo-wop progression, broken up and extended, with other chords occasionally interpolated; a progression never played straight through, but nonetheless clear enough to form patterns to which the song keeps returning. In fact, from the words this magic moment on, the doo-wop progression forms a reference point for the harmonic progression of Its Time, even though it is never stated in its pure form. Example 3 illustrates how This Magic Moment uses the I-vi-IV-V progression in unadulterated form twice (three times if one includes the introduction) before introducing a contrasting harmonic progression (see Example 2 for a more detailed view of the first half of the first of these repetitions). The situation with Its Time is more complex: the progression represented in Example 3 begins on the words this magic moment (shown in more detail in Example 1) in the middle of the progression,

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Example 3. Use of doo-wop progression in This Magic Moment and Its Time.

Example 4. Thunderous movement of A to E at 1:42 of Its Time.

on the IV chord. The song then cycles through variants of the I-vi-IV-V progression four times, altering it each time, while avoiding one of the most defining features of the progression (certainly in terms of Western music theory) the movement from V to I that clearly marks the beginning of a new repetition. The only authentic, V-I cadence occurs after the words well I suppose that depends, with the arrival on the tonic chord (I), which coincides with the words if you go (the movement from the end of statement 2 to the beginning of statement 3 in example 3). This section of Its Time, beginning with the words if you go, is further emphasised by a dramatic change of texture with the entry of bass guitar and real drums. Yet my interest in Its Time does not stem entirely, or even mostly, from its reference to a song released some thirty-six years earlier: to my ears, the magic moment of the song occurs neither with the mention of ever-deferred and displaced magic moments in the lyrics, nor in the evocation of chord progressions from days gone by, but rather in the musical gesture that concludes each verse of the song a ringing open A chord that resolves to an open E (see Example 4), what in music theoretical terminology would be called a plagal cadence (also termed an amen cadence because it is sung at the conclusion of Protestant hymns). The arrival at these chords is carefully set up by several factors: the harmonic progression discussed earlier, the arch of the long vocal line, and a gradual build-up of texture.3 This particular way of using the open E chord recalls other similar uses, usually involving a movement from A to GY on the third string of the guitar. This use of the E major chord, a kind of sonic emblem involving the specific timbre of the highly amplified (though not particularly distorted) electric guitar, references another line of pop music history, one that stretches back to the classic rock of the mid-1960s.4 For guitarists, the E major chord in open position provides a particular kind of satisfaction (in fact, Henry Rollins linked the pleasures of playing this chord to male-oriented auto-eroticism); and traces of this visceral pleasure undoubtedly

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Example 5. Comparison of the spacing of open chords on the guitar.

resonate with listeners, whether or not they are guitarists.5 It has a uniquely, full, bright sound, resulting from several factors: the root of the chord is played on the lowest open string of the instrument in its conventional tuning; it uses all six strings of the guitar; the highest note is also the root and is also played on an open string; and, the spacing of the pitches of the chord almost perfectly conform to the music-theoretical ideal (see Example 5). This correspondence by itself may not help explain its effect, except that this ideal bears a strong relationship to the arrangement of pitches in the overtone series (a series of faint pitches sounding above every pitch termed the fundamental that we actually hear): low pitches further apart, high pitches closer together. Thus the upper five pitches of the open E chord are in a relationship to the lower pitch that reinforces the overtones of that lower pitch music theorists may yet debate whether the open E is the real chord of nature.6 By way of comparison (see Example 5), other commonly used open, major chords available on the guitar have their root on an open string, but not on E (A major, D major), or the root is on the E string but the string isnt open (G), or the root is neither on low E, nor open (C major). G major is probably the closest competitor to E in terms of its sonorous quality, but both its highest and lowest pitches are stopped (i.e. not open), and the spacing of pitches does not correspond to the overtone series in the manner of the E chord. The G chord, therefore, while much beloved by folk guitarists, and very versatile, lacks the brilliant ring of E, and, because of where the open and stopped strings are situated, is not as easy to control on the electric guitar. However, as I will discuss later, songs using these other chords as their tonic chord also derive a distinctive overall sonority. The use of the E chord that I have been discussing, the one featuring the movement from A to GY on the G-string, did not arise out of the ether. Rather, Costello, in employing this usage, links Its Time with other recordings dating back to the mid-1960s, creating a fairly consistent line of intra-generic reference. Examples 6 through 8 all rely on a similar use of the E chord. In all three of these recordings (all four if we include Its Time), the sound of the open E chord is an essential ingredient, equal, I would argue, to the impact of melody, chord progression, rhythm, timbral nuances of the voice, etc. Because of the centrality of this sound to the effect of the recordings, if one were to attempt to capture the flavour of these arrangements in a cover version, it would not really be possible to transpose the song to another key. Dylan, in fact, originally recorded the last example, I Dont Believe You, in a solo version two years earlier in the key of D. Transposing the song to E was among the many extensive and significant changes made between the two versions, yet one of the most audible benefits of this change was to make available the particular sound of that key on the guitar.7 Similarly, the demo version of Its Time reveals that Costello also originally conceived the song in a different key. The change of key from F in the demo down to

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Example 6. Neil Young, Barstool Blues (1975) (0:430:46).

Example 7. The Beatles, Nowhere Man (1965) (0:140:17) .

Example 8. Bob Dylan and the Hawks, I Dont Believe You (1966) (0:020:15) (schematic transcription, omitting improvised guitar lls).

E, in addition to giving Costello a bit more room at the top of his voice, makes the brilliance of the E chord available on the guitar, which then becomes a major ingredient in the sonic re-conception of the song. A further interesting point about the demo is that it highlights the genre connections between Its Time and gospel/rhythm and blues (and, hence, the genre world of the Drifters) more than the official version, largely through the use in the demo of 6/8 metre, and a slower, more lilting tempo (the quarter-note triplets in the official version survive as vestiges of the metre used in the demo see Example 1). Arraying these examples together raises several questions. First, what is the expressive use to which the sonic emblem of the open E is put? In other words, what, if anything, do the verbal/semantic worlds implied by the words of these songs have in common that makes the use of the open E with 4-3 suspension (or Esus4 in guitar nomenclature) particularly well suited to projecting their meaning? The lyrics of Its Time, Barstool Blues and I Dont Believe You all deal with relationships that are in the process of ending or have already ended, while Nowhere Man describes someone lost in uncertainty. If we were to assume that musical gestures were completely neutral, then we could quickly move to the idea that our E chord straightforwardly reflects or translates the quality of ending, loss, romantic despair, depression heard in the lyrics. Yet while words may give us a key to the human universe inhabited by the music, the music (and especially the singing voice) inflects the words, as the

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Example 9. Stereotypical blues guitar lick in the key of E.

different versions of I Dont Believe You and Its Time well illustrate.8 The qualities that I hear in these recordings defiance, strength, resolution in the face of adversity, yearning, sneering illustrate the ambiguous, yet not completely open-ended quality of musical meaning. The brilliant ring of the open E chord with a 43 suspension stresses certain potential interpretations of the lyrics, calls our attention to latent aspects of voices and personae, while softening or downplaying others.9 Yet this chain of specific word-music linkages, while compelling, addresses only one aspect of connotative meaning. Another telling aspect may be found along the translucent and shifting borders that mark genres and the socio-cultural associations attached to them.10 The use of a musical device such as this gesture involving the open E chord, evokes historical associations with (what we are calling here for lack of a better name) folk-rock, a genre which became meaningful in relation to other genres during the mid-1960s (or the summer of 1965, to be more precise), and which became the prototype for later constructions of classic rock. In all three periods under consideration here, 1966, 1975, and 1996, the E-chord gesture evokes (something like) folk-rock through its contrast with other genres that would be unlikely to include such a gesture. This particular E-chord references folk-rock partly through its difference from other usages of the open E that may refer to other genres, most notably, to those derived from the blues. In order to accept this distinction, one would have to examine the very different way in which the E chord is used in blues and blues-derived genres; one of the most striking differences, for example, is how, in blues-related genres (but not in folk-rock) the third (GY on the first fret of the G string) alternates ambiguously with the open G, creating a blues third effect (see example 9). This bluesy usage of the open E characterises recordings, such as Link Wrays 1958 Rumble (where the resounding E chord that dominates the soundscape of the song is clearly situated in a blues tonal context), which otherwise might seem to be prime examples of antecedents for the open E as heard in Its Time.11 The move towards excision of blues tonality in folk-rock creates a momentary boundary, and distinguishes it from two historical genres usually considered to be important influences on rock n roll: blues and country. Rather than the lowdown funkiness of blues tonality, the purity of the major thirds in folk-rock evokes musics outside the American vernacular, the most obvious examples being either British Isles traditional music or European classical music. One effect of this move is to create a form of rock n roll derived popular music in the process of being christened rock circa 1965 with the seemingly paradoxical connotations of middle-class whiteness, and urban, bohemian hipness, associations not as evident in blues, rhythm and blues, or country.12 Folk-rock thus fulfilled the need for a genre that was distinctively white. It also simultaneously created a genre that was distinctively hip, achieving this hipness through an insistence on artistic autonomy and an invocation of bohemian discourses around alternative practices of accreditation or, in other words, around the idea that value emanates from the approval of other artists rather than from economic success

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or established academic/critical criteria. These factors helped differentiate folk-rock from less hip, white-associated genres such as teen pop, and pre-rock n roll-styled pop.13 While other hip styles performed by white musicians co-existed at this time with folk-rock, these genres, such as blues-rock and hard rock, all maintained obvious ties to historical and contemporaneous genres that were strongly associated with African Americans. These white musicians therefore always ran the risk of being seen as derivative, at a remove of one step from the real thing, or as somewhat devalued copies of an original that remained beyond reach. Folk-rock seemed to satisfy the desire for the newly expanded mass of white, middle-class, post-secondary school producers and consumers for a music that did not reek of an earnest duplicate, however skilfully delivered.14 Costellos transformation of Its Time from gospel/ doo-wop to a song with closer ties to folk- (or classic-) rock, thereby obscures, through a process of generic whitening, the connection of its magic moments with those in the Drifters recording of that name. This is not to say that the work of all artists associated with folk-rock avoids blues tonality, although the recordings of archetypal folk-rockers, the Byrds, come fairly close. Blues inflections are rarely far away in Dylans work even in I Dont Believe You, the opening guitar riff resembles that of Chuck Berrys Memphis, and Robbie Robertsons guitar fills make frequent use of blues-based phrases and the Beatles recorded several blues- and country-derived songs on Rubber Soul, the album on which Nowhere Man appeared. The point here is that one of the clearest defining differences between folk-rock and earlier rock n roll, contemporaneous rhythm and blues, and country is the use of these ringing, non-bluesy, folk-based, open guitar chords, of which the E with a suspension is a prime example. Similar to how the folk-rock of Nowhere Man and I Dont Believe You distinguished itself from other genres coexisting in the mid-1960s, so did the allusions to folk-rock in Barstool Blues and Its Time mark their identity within the popular music field of their eras. Barstool Blues, appearing on Neil Youngs Zuma in 1975, contrasted with other hard rock songs on the same album, such as Drive Back, or the out-and-out folk of Through My Sails. A glance at the top-ranked albums in Billboards charts of that year reveals contrasts between Youngs album and the funk of Earth, Wind and Fires Thats the Way of the World, the pop-rock of Elton Johns Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, and the hard rock cum heavy-metal of Led Zeppelins Physical Graffiti (though the eclecticism of Physical Graffiti probably resembles that of Zuma more closely than the others). Costellos Its Time finds companionship on his album All This Useless Beauty with his folk-rock Byrds tribute song, You Bowed Down, but contrasts elsewhere with numerous ballads, the neosoul Why Cant a Man Stand Alone, or the country-ish Starting to Come to Me. Looking across the pop music spectrum of 1996, Costellos work has less in common with the best-sellers of the day than the examples from 1966 or 1975, differing mightily from hip-hop albums such as the Fugees Score, or from Cline Dions retro-pop, Falling Into You, though sharing certain models in classic rock (if little else) with Fairweather Johnson by Hootie and the Blowfish. One could say, in a guitar-o-centric world, that Its Time, Nowhere Man, I Dont Believe You et al. are about the E chord in the same way that songs by the Byrds, like Tambourine Man and Turn, Turn, Turn, are about the D chord, and like their Ill Feel a Whole Lot Better is about the A chord. The Byrds dont (to my knowledge) have an E chord song of the type I have been describing. D and A, while not possessing the resounding ring of E, have other properties that, we might

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Example 10. Typical folk-rock melodic movements of open A and D chords.

speculate, are better suited to the Byrds purposes. These chords enable a 4-3-2-3 melodic motion, a type of movement that is not possible with E, because the 3rd of the E chord is only a half-step above the open string (see Example 10 and compare with Example 5). Costellos aforementioned tribute to the Byrds mid-1960s oeuvre, You Bowed Down, written originally for Byrds leader Roger McGuinn (and recorded by him in 1991) is, not surprisingly, in D, and uses ringing open D and A chords whenever possible. * * * The interface between performance practice, the technology of musical instruments, and the social history of genres contributes to the paradigmatic depth of the magical moment I have been describing. But I would argue that the particularity of this moment is not unique. My choice of what may seem to many to be an obscure track on an obscure album is thus not driven by the desire to bestow artistic legitimacy on Its Time, but rather by the almost random coincidence of a conference theme with a line in that song. The contingent nature of song selection suggests that such performances of personal and socio-historical excavation should be possible with a wide range of cultural artefacts. Magic moments trigger memories that strive to connect chains of otherwise disconnected associations and events. What is ephemeral, an instance that disappears in a blink of an eye, may in later instances be organised, framed in a narrative. Such is frequently the fate of not only magic moments, but, one might argue, of unmagical moments as well, of communication in general, of the experience of symbolic forms in time, and thus, of music in particular. These chains of memories lead listeners to different positions in social spaces located at different points in history: on the one hand, to an African-American rhythm and blues group going uptown and crossing over to new audiences, new sounds, rhythms and instruments, as new possibilities for combining pop, rhythm and blues, and rock n roll were being explored; or, on the other hand, to white bohemians betokening countercultural movements and the institution of cultural capital within the popular music field. Beyond the personal significance of my ruminations, Its Time serves as an example of how multiple social worlds and historical trajectories are evoked by the fragile, momentary magic of music.

Endnotes
1. Simon Frith concludes his discussion of music and the experience of time by arguing for the ability of music to focus our attention on the present moment (Frith 1996, p. 157). See Kramer (1988) for an extended study of the relationship between music and the experience of time. 2. This train of associations illustrates what can be understood as the intensely connotative quality of listening/hearing music, especially song with its multiple semiotic axes. Even this brief excerpt of Its Time contains another verbal phrase, concludes when this cigarette ends, that sparks off another chain of associations, in

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this case leading to songs such as A Good Year for the Roses and These Foolish Things in which discarded cigarettes evoke dying relationships or absent loved ones. For more on connotative processes in popular music, see Philip Tagg (1979; 1991; 2003); and for an overview of semiotic processes in popular music in general see Richard Middleton (1990, pp. 172 246). In fact, I would argue that the deviations from the doo-wop progression in Its Time do contribute, in good functional-harmonic fashion, to the impact of the big E chord by delaying resolution of the harmonic-melodic motion of the song in order to heighten tension. Due to the capacity of this musical gesture to elicit corresponding physical movements (especially among guitarists see Frith 1996, pp. 1412), its meaning could arguably lie in the realm of primary signification as well as in the field of connotations explored here (see Middleton 1990, pp. 2247, 2647; and Keil [1966] 1994). The pleasures of the E chord are also illustrated by a scene in the middle of School of Rock (2003), in which Jack Black teaches one of his students, a solemn classical guitarist, how to play an E chord, rock style. The term chord of nature has been used by theorists of Western art music such as Jean-Philippe Rameau and Heinrich Schenker in reference to the major triad; both theorists used the overtone series to support this claim. The overtone series has also been pressed into the service of other systems to support claims of naturalness, as in, for example, the creation of a forty-three-note scale by twentieth-century composer Harry Partch. See also Robert Palmers discussion of the impact of guitar overtones, amplifier distortion and reverb, and recording studio effects on the history of rock n roll (Palmer 1991). Another motivating factor was undoubtedly that it places Dylans voice in a slightly higher register, making it easier for his voice to cut through the amplified accompaniment. The idea that lyrics refer to the human universe evoked by the music comes from Laing (1969, p. 99) (quoted in Middleton 1990, p. 228). I am aware that, strictly speaking in musictheoretical terms, the use of A resolving to G-sharp in an E major chord may not always be a suspension. I am here merging musictheoretical terminology with the guitarists vernacular use of the term as would be typically learned through reading chord symbols, although I will note that in all of these examples, strong-weak rhythmic placement of the A and G-sharp mimics the pattern of the suspension/ appoggiatura in functional tonal music. The suspension/appoggiatura also has connotative properties in Western art music in the period ca 16001900, where it is frequently used to evoke longing/yearning or, to use a contextually appropriate term, sehnsucht.

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3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10. An unproblematic evocation of the concept of genre certainly risks presenting the popular musical field as a static, spatialised arrangement, with different kinds of music clearly demarcated from one another. The most thoroughgoing problematisation of the concept of genre may be found in Derrida (1980). For work that argues for a carefully qualified use of genre in relation to popular music, see Fabbri (1982), Walser (1993), Frith (1996), Negus (1999), Toynbee (2000), Brackett (2002) and Brackett (2005). 11. See Palmer (1991) for a discussion of many other blues-based examples from the 1950s and 1960s. 12. I want to stress here the difference between folk-rock and folk, which, even in its late1950s, early-1960s guise as the urban folk revival was remarkably more inclusive in terms of race and gender; this held true for the performers associated with it as well as its more widespread social connotations. Folk-rock, and hence rock, succeeded in presenting itself as an anti-mass, mass form that followed in the footsteps of the urban folk revival, but with the important addition of a modernist, art for arts sake mode of authenticity (see Keightley 2002). 13. By invoking whiteness in this context, I am not referring to a racial essence, but rather the way in which a genre would have been likely to be associated with a social group identified as white at a particular historical conjuncture, i.e. whiteness becomes meaningful as a tendency within a field of social relationships that is re-constituted from moment to moment. I have tackled this issue at greater length elsewhere; see Brackett (2002; 2003; 2005). Bernard Gendron succinctly sums up the importance of the issue of racial distinctiveness and its role in cultural accreditation in a certain strain of early rock criticism (Gendron 2002, pp. 1867, 219 21). For more on alternative discourses of cultural accreditation, see Bourdieu (1993) and, again, Gendron (2002). 14. See Bakhtin (1986, pp. 60102, esp. 95100) on how distinctions between genres (in this case, what Bakhtin terms speech genres) depend on different implied audiences, what he calls addressivity; and see Bourdieu (1993, pp. 29 73) for a discussion of how positions in the cultural field may correspond to positions in social space through variable logics of artistic prestige and economic success. By producers, I am referring to both producers in the music industry sense, as well as to musicians who produce the sounds heard on recordings. To understand the expanded sense of artistic positions available to baby boomers, which was a major factor in the development of an autonomous mode of legitimation within the sphere of commercial music, it is interesting to read Tom Wolfes account of the conflict between Phil Spector ca 1964, and the representatives of the old-guard music industry (Wolfe 1965). A

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Lou Adler notes that many of radios young disk jockeys have beliefs which coincide with those of the folk-rock songwriters (Billboard 1965).

Billboard article from the summer of 1965, when the folk-rock boom was at its peak, supports the idea of shared values between producers, consumers, and industry gatekeepers, as producer

References
Bakhtin, M. 1986. Speech Genres and Other Late Essays, trans. V.W. McGee, ed. C. Emerson and M. Holquist (Austin, University of Texas Press) Billboard. 1965. Record of absurd gets serious play, Billboard (14 August), pp. 1, 57 Bourdieu, P. 1993. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature (New York, Columbia University Press) Brackett, D. 2002. (In Search of) Musical Meaning: genres, categories, and crossover, in Popular Music Studies: International Perspectives, ed D. Hesmondhalgh and K. Negus (London, Arnold Publishers; and New York, Oxford University Press) pp. 6583 2003. What a Difference a Name Makes: two instances of African-American music, in The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical Introduction, ed. M. Clayton, R. Middleton and T. Herbert (New York, Routledge), pp. 23850 2005A. The Pop, Rock, and Soul Reader: Histories and Debates (New York and Oxford, Oxford University Press) 2005B. Questions of genre in Black popular music, Black Music Research Journal, 25/1 de Certeau, M. 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles, University of California Press) Derrida, J. 1980. The law of genre, in On Narrative, ed. W.J.T. Mitchell (Chicago and London, The University of Chicago Press), pp. 5177 Fabbri, F. 1982. A Theory of Musical Genres: two applications, in Popular Music Perspectives, ed. D. Horn and P. Tagg (Gteborg and London, IASPM) pp. 5281 Frith, S. 1996. Performing Rites: On the Value of Popular Music (Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press) Gendron, B. 2002. Between Montmartre and the Mudd Club: Popular Music and the Avant-Garde (Chicago, University of Chicago Press) Keightley, K. 2002. Reconsidering rock, in The Cambridge Companion to Pop and Rock, ed. S. Frith, W. Straw and J. Street (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press), pp. 10942 Keil, C. [1966] 1994. Motion and feeling through music, in Music Grooves, ed. C. Keil and S. Feld (Chicago and London, Chicago University Press) pp. 5376 Kramer, J. 1988. The Time of Music (New York, Schirmer Books) Laing, D. 1969. The Sound of Our Time (London, Quadrangle) Middleton, R. 1990. Studying Popular Music (Milton Keynes, Open University Press) Negus, K. 1999. Music Genres and Corporate Cultures (London and New York, Routledge) Palmer, R. 1991. The Church of the Sonic Guitar, The South Atlantic Quarterly, 90/4, pp. 64973 Tagg, P. 1979. Kojak: 50 Seconds of Television Music. Towards the Analysis of Affect in Popular Music (Gteborg, Musikvetenskapliga institutionen vid Gteborgs universitet) 1991. Fernando the Flute (Liverpool, Institute of Popular Music, University of Liverpool) Tagg, P., and Clarida, B. 2003. Ten Little Title Tunes: Towards a Musicology of the Mass Media (New York, Mass Media Music Scholars Press) Toynbee, J. 2000. Making Popular Music: Musicians, Creativity and Institutions (London, Arnold) Walser, R. 1993. Running with the Devil: Power, Gender and Madness in Heavy Metal Music (Hanover, NH, Wesleyan University Press) Wolfe, T. 1965. The first tycoon of teen, The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby (New York, Farrar, Straus and Giroux) pp. 4761, reprinted in Brackett (2005), pp. 11117

Discography
Beatles, Nowhere Man, Rubber Soul. Parlophone PCS 3075. 1965 Byrds, Ill Feel a Whole Lot Better, Mr. Tambourine Man. Columbia 2372. 1965 Mr. Tambourine Man, Mr. Tambourine Man. Columbia 2372. 1965 Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season), Turn! Turn! Turn! Columbia 2454. 1965 Elvis Costello, Its Time, All This Useless Beauty. Warner 46198. 1996 Its Time (demo), All This Useless Beauty, expanded edition, re-release. Rhino R2 74284. 2001 You Bowed Down, All This Useless Beauty. Warner 46198. 1996 Cline Dion, Falling Into You. 550 Music 67541. 1996 Drifters, This Magic Moment. Atlantic 2050. 1960. Re-released on The Very Best of the Drifters. Rhino R2 71211. 1993 Bob Dylan, I Dont Believe You, Another Side of Bob Dylan. Columbia 2193/8993. 1964

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I Dont Believe You, The Bootleg Series, Vol. 4: Bob Dylan Live 1966: The Royal Albert Hall Concert. Columbia/Legacy 68556. 1998 Earth, Wind, and Fire, Thats the Way of the World. Columbia 33280. 1975 Fugees, The Score. Ruffhouse 67147. 1996 Hootie and the Blowfish, Fairweather Johnson. Atlantic 82886. 1996 Elton John, Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. MCA 2142. 1975 Led Zeppelin, Physical Graffiti. Swan Song 200 [2]. 1975 Roger McGuinn, You Bowed Down, Back from Rio. Arista 8648. 1991 Link Wray, Rumble. Cadence 1347. 1958 Neil Young, Barstool Blues, Zuma. Reprise 2242. 1975