Written 30 years ago (for Christ’s sake!) “Art School” by The Jam, is a blistering example of guitar oriented pop and/or rock.

In their time, The Jam were given the label “mod,” an overarching term, involving both music and fashion, that seems to capture a strain of English 60s pop (The Who, The Kinks, The Beatles, etc.) directly influenced by black rhythm and blues artists from the U.S. This influence can certainly be heard in their music, but with their tendency to write fast, catchy tunes that clock in under two and a half minuets, there is a definite punk sensibility found in The Jam’s music.

In essence, “Art School,” off The Jam’s 1977 debut In The City, is, at two minuets and two seconds, essentially a punk rock song. Fast and rough with one guitar, bass and drums, it can certainly be counted as such. At the same time however, there is a certain sophistication in the playing creeping around the edges that makes one realize that this ain’t no Sex Pistols tune. Providing more of a trebly texture, the guitar takes a back seat to the rhythm section where drums and bass are allowed to carry the song through its fast and easily danceable shuffle.

Even though “Art School” is roughhewn in style and production, guitarist and songwriter, Paul Weller, bassist, Bruce Foxton and drummer, Rick Buckler, while no more creative or artistically committed, show a musical acumen that far surpasses that of their peers.

As for the lyrics, they are filled with the self-righteous indignation that characterize Paul Weller’s song writing during his time with The Jam: “And never worry if people laugh at you/The fools only laugh ’cos they envy you.” But mostly, “Art School” sounds like a call to action directed at the youth of England in 1977; however, that same revolutionary fervour can be carried over to today in language anyone who is tired of mainstream culture can understand. Weller sings in a pronounced English accent, “Who makes the rules that make people select/Who is to judge that your ways are correct/The media as watchdog is absolute shit/The T.V. telling you what to think.”

In keeping with the punk rock ethos of independence – in thought as well as artistic expression – art school, rather than a location, becomes for Weller both a state of mind and a metaphor for individuality. When he sings, “do whatcha want ‘cos this is the new art school,” he seems to be excising art school from its local geography and placing it in the consciousness of the listener where he or she can use it for inspiration for individual creativity.

Pretty good for a two-minuet pop and/or rock (or is that punk?) song.

I think this school year needs to start on a happy note. Seeing as how most people reading this column are at the start of an eight-month slog through classes good, bad and indifferent, I thought I’d search the vaults for a song that could touch upon school and do so in an optimistic way – either through the lyrics or through the music. With this week’s installment I think I have been able to do both.

Although not specifically about school, “Monday” by Wilco, contains enough direct references to that hallowed institution to offer it to you as this school year’s first Song of the Week.

Released in 1996, “Monday” can be found on Being There – perhaps one of the greatest collection of songs in any genre ever consigned to tape. (If you are at all interested in Rock/Country/Folk/Noise, do yourself a favour and buy/download it. Kill if necessary.)

As already stated, Being There is a genre traipsing record. Amid the slow country ballads and occasional detour into experimental noise, “Monday,” with its high energy and electric guitars, punctures the inherent darkness in Wilco’s music like an exuberant drunk at a funeral.

Complete with backing horn section, “Monday” is reminiscent of the Rolling Stones’ “Heartbreaker.” But whereas “Heartbreaker” wants to break your heart with its jaunt through the underside of the city, “Monday” wants to pick you up and mix you a drink at the party of the year.

In terms of the lyrics, “Monday” doesn’t appear to be about anything in particular. But despite primary songwriter Jeff Tweedy’s inclination towards the obtuse and nonsensical, there is something familiar about “Monday’s” lyrics. Seemingly evoking the simple pleasures of wasted youth, Tweedy sings, “He said/Monday, I’m all high/Get me out of FLA/In school, yeah/I fooled ya/Now I know I made a mistake.” In keeping with the slacker student sentiment appearing throughout the song (“I cut class in school yeah”) the listener is also presented with images of reckless abandon: “Blister on a turnpike, let me by/I only want to wonder why when I don’t want to die/Oooh, I shot ya, yeah, I know/I only want to go where my wheels roll.”

Rather than be an approximation of some situation or story, the lyrics really serve the life affirming nature of the music. And what could be more life affirming than guitars, bass and drums and a horn section?

Listen to “Monday” and get happy.

(The following are excerpts from an email conversation with Terry Lowe — editor of Momentum Magazine)

Hi Pat,

Terry

Check out this letter of recommendation from Event Magazine.

letterofrecommendation.rtf

The British Columbia Asociation of Magazine Publishers (BCAMP) is a promotional organization that advocates and furthers the development of the B.C. magazine industry. In the spring of 2007 I was hired to prepare a report based on a survey of its membership.

bcamp-report1.pdf

Check out this letter of recommendation from the British Columbia Association of Magazine Publishers.