Jeff Beck, David Crosby, and now Tom Verlaine. All within a span of a few weeks to kick off 2023. Something of a bleak start to the new year for music fans. For me, this one’s the most difficult. It’s not a stretch to say that Mr. Verlaine’s work with his band Television played a big role in why I’m sitting at my desk writing this morning. Marquee Moon, the album and the song, changed the way I heard music in a way that was expansive and exciting back in February of 1977. I was already having inklings that this rock music I was becoming obsessed with was more than just popular entertainment. In the right visionary hands it was art. A visceral, emotional kind of art. My desire for more never stopped.
Tom’s story has been told many times, and is being told again, in depth, with his passing yesterday. Briefly, he took off for NYC with his boarding school friend, bassist Richard Meyers (who would change his name to the perfectly punk Richard Hell), and somehow convinced the owner of a rundown Bowery venue called CBGB's to give their new band, Television, a weekly spot. Word of mouth brought people in, including other young musicians looking for a place to play and develop their craft. It became an incubator, of sorts, for adventurous young musicians coloring outside the lines and not caring about the music industry, at least at first. The electric buzz around the place drew NYC music journalists like flies and a significant music moment was born. CBGB's became famous in rock history as the grimy, smelly birthplace of the Talking Heads, the Ramones, Blondie, the Patti Smith Group, and many others. (It's a story you can catch up on with the great 2013 film, CBGB, starring the sorely-missed Alan Rickman as club owner Hilly Kristal.)
I was exactly the right age in 1977 to be fully invested in that scene and excited by the new music that was bursting out of it. Patti Smith's Horses, Blondie's debut, the guitar-heavy buzzsaw pop of the Ramones, the self-conscious artiness of the Talking Heads. I was starting to intellectualize rock music at that point, as much I was emotionally diving into the music, and there was a lot to unpack from CBGB's in 1977. There was a lot to read that went along with a lot to hear. I started to realize how big a universe fandom could encompass. I've never looked back.
I bought Marquee Moon unheard. All I knew about it was it was the latest release by one of the key bands in the scene, and one that was getting some of the best reviews (none of which indicated it had any commercial potential) and loudest buzz. I brought it unwrapped to my best friend's house with a little trepidation. We had been listening to records together on the stereo in his room, fending off his pesky younger siblings, since early high school. It had become obvious that our tastes weren't going in the same direction by that snowy February, he was more enthralled by mainstream rockers like Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, and Nazareth than I was (he was right about those bands, of course, but I was feeling snooty at the time). He would occasionally play me stuff I didn't love and vice versa. Our longtime thread was fraying a bit.
But, to his credit, he was never less than enthusiastic about listening to whatever I brought over, whether it turned out to be his jam or not. I put it on, half wondering if he would ask me to take it off, but we were both floored by the music that came out of the speakers. I don't remember how many times we played it front to back, at least four or five. It became our new favorite record on the spot, we quoted lyrics to each other for years after.
The first thing that hits you when you drop the needle, and maybe the biggest impediment to Television's commercial success, is Tom's voice. He sang in a jittery, reedy, piercing style that seemed both willfully unorthodox and completely natural. He was a street poet, and to my ears his voice was the only one that could have possibly wrung every nuance from his aggressive, yet unmistakably poetic, lyrics. It was also immediately obvious he and second guitarist Richard Lloyd had captured a rare and beautiful alchemy with their dual playing. A conversation, so to speak, so locked into each other they could finish each other's sentences. The rhythm section was supple, the bass and drums were as finely shaded as a jazz band. The scene Television rose from was described by journalists as the beginnings of "punk," and Marquee Moon definitely had that edge, but it was something far more sophisticated, adventurous, and catchy that what that term came to mean. It wasn't a commercial success, but it inspired countless young bands.
I can't even begin to count the number of times I've listened to Marquee Moon over the years. It's one of those exceedingly rare albums that sounds fresh to my ears every single time. I'm still amazed by what those four guys accomplished. I last listened this past Friday night, the day before Tom passed. I was talking about it at work on Thursday with a young guy who has caught the music obsession fever. Marquee Moon was a relatively recent discovery for him and he was, like I was back in the day, anxious to talk about it with somebody. I was happy to oblige, but then I had to listen.
Television's career was fairly short, their wake of influence is more important to the long view of music history than their impact at the time. After Marquee Moon, the 1978 follow-up, Adventure, was softer sounding, more roses with fewer thorns, but the roses were lovely, indeed. Adventure is nearly as brilliant in its way as the first one, another record I will never be without. It turned some of their fans off, truth be told, and sold even fewer copies than the debut - the kiss of death for a band with mountains of glowing praise and little sales as far as their label was concerned. Television didn't record again until they reunited in 1992, but by that time the bands they had inspired were dominating the music press and airwaves, and the excellent Television album didn't gain much traction. It just wasn't the revelatory surprise Marquee Moon was. There was no way it could be, the sound they invented could be heard in a hundred other places.
I could end by recommending every one of Television's album, if you're not familiar, or a handful from Tom's post-Television solo career. You may or may not like them. Tom's singing may put you off, you wouldn't be alone. David Byrne's yelp sounds radio friendly by comparison. But I would recommend you give at least one listen to this song. The title song from Marquee Moon is a seminal moment in rock history, ten minutes of blending genres, eras, and attitudes, unlike anything else. It's edgy, virtuosic, and beautiful. "I was listening, listening, to the rain. I was hearing, hearing, something else." Rest in peace Mr. Verlaine.
EARWORM: "Marquee Moon" - Dive into the deep end, the water's fine.
…..…Little Johnny Jewel..…