'1966' singles out a moment when musical history was made
Even in England, Jon Savage鈥檚 1966: The Year the Decade Exploded hasn鈥檛 been reviewed as broadly or warmly as his definitive 1991 Sex Pistols biography "England鈥檚 Dreaming" or his century-straddling 2007 social-intellectual history "Teenage." And in the US, it鈥檚 been totally, and unjustly, ignored. I figure the problem is twofold. First, while at bottom a work of history, "1966" isn鈥檛 merely music-centered 鈥� unlike the highly subcultural "England鈥檚 Dreaming," it鈥檚 pop-centered. Second, while Savage is right to see the year when 鈥渢he 鈥�60s鈥� became what we mean by that metonym as epitomized by its pop music, in the US and the UK both history and music were racing toward the future in parallel, not identically. They 鈥渆xploded鈥� simultaneously, but somewhat differently.
Pop 鈥� not 鈥渟erious鈥� enough. US-UK 鈥� dueling perspectives. Nevertheless, as someone who began writing about 1966 and its panoply of aftermaths as I turned 24 in the East Village that year, I learned a lot I didn鈥檛 know from Savage, who began the year as a London 12-year-old glued to pirate radio. Although he鈥檚 less comfortable describing the American phenomena he had to come here and research than the British ones he鈥檚 long since incorporated into his discursive apparatus, he鈥檚 careful to give the two nations equal time.
In fact, one of the chief virtues of "1966" is how dutifully and agilely this British freelance intellectual finesses these double complexities. Of course he focuses on singles rather than album 鈥� beyond Beatles鈥揝tones鈥揇ylan, 45s were still where the conceptual action was. But on both sides of the Atlantic he finds sociohistorical gold in not just major artists but utter obscurities 鈥� in what has to be called 鈥渁rt鈥� because it was too weird for 鈥減op.鈥� Nor does he make the fatal error of privileging the 鈥減op groups鈥� soon to be designated 鈥渞ock bands鈥� over black artists. On the contrary, James Brown and Motown in particular get many pages and unmitigated respect. But typifying his schema鈥檚 pitfalls is something I鈥檇 never grasped 鈥� in Britain, the Motown classics covered by both the early Beatles and the early Stones remained more cult items than hits until Motown enlisted effective UK record-biz partners in 1965. I鈥檓 grateful to Savage for clearing this up. But, if only because it鈥檚 literally impossible for him to squeeze everything in, he doesn鈥檛 explore it enough.
The complexities begin with an Anglocentric generalization in a January chapter that builds to the sentence: 鈥淭he pace of life quickened in the mid-sixties, and the fear of nuclear annihilation was the rocket fuel.鈥� This gave me pause 鈥� while 鈥渢he Bomb鈥� was without question a potent metaphor in post-WW2 America, the ban-the-bomb movement and hence bomb consciousness remained relatively marginal here. But as Savage reminds us, in Britain the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament 鈥� fueled, I鈥檇 venture, by Britain鈥檚 ingrained left traditions and the still-fresh horrors of the Blitz 鈥� was mobilizing a counterculture by 1958.
Yet as Savage then explains, the CND had 鈥減eaked in about 鈥�64-鈥�65,鈥� leaving the US to set the decade鈥檚 political tone via both its Vietnam War, which embroiled a draftee army that numbered 185,000 at the beginning of 1966 and 385,000 just 12 months later, and its civil rights movement, which inspired a white New Left datable to SDS鈥檚 1962 Port Huron Statement and in 1966 amalgamated the lessons of 1965鈥檚 Selma march, the Civil Rights Act, and the Watts rebellion into one controversial, irresistible slogan: Black Power.
Backtracking to clarify and condensing for speed, Savage squeezes these upheavals and many more into his 547 pages by keying a month-titled chapter to each. May extols both a women鈥檚 movement sparked by Casey Hayden and Mary King鈥檚 1966 critique of SDS鈥檚 gender-based 鈥渃aste system鈥� and the Supremes and Dusty Springfield; stretching a little, August links a barely nascent gay rights movement to doomed UK producer Joe Meek.
Usually, however, chapter themes are less explicitly political: youth ideology, lysergic mind expansion, Warhol鈥檚 Factory, the onset of 鈥渟oul,鈥� riots on Sunset Strip, and the mad ferment, brave experiments, and silly pretensions of 鈥渞ock.鈥� There鈥檚 a crucial and perhaps underplayed moment midway in, when Prime Minister Harold Wilson imposes wage and price freezes on a British economy that stalled years before America鈥檚 did, sealing Swinging London鈥檚 decline into last year鈥檚 brand. As the year slows to a close, the Beatles are rumored to be recording an album that will change everything. Next year鈥檚 brand: the Summer of Love.
Without undertaking the impossible task of folding all this action into a neat narrative, Savage constructs his mosaic efficiently. And always he keeps one eye and both ears on the music. In this his wide range is no less remarkable than his sense of thematic relevance. By picking and choosing 鈥� although he鈥檚 scrupulous about noting the wild cards the pop charts always put on the table 鈥� he illustrates his evolving theses with classics and finds, number ones shrouded in memory and minor hits you missed and flops you never heard of.
On the Brit side are brief portraits of not just Beatles-Stones-Who but Yardbirds鈥揔inks鈥揝mall Faces, on the Yank side deep readings of 鈥淓ight Miles High鈥� and 鈥淕ood Vibrations鈥� and 鈥淚鈥檒l Be Your Mirror鈥� (as well as Norma Tanega鈥檚 鈥淲alkin鈥� My Cat Named Dog,鈥� a touchstone I鈥檇 long believed lost to history). There鈥檚 a pained yet comedic minor R&B hit about the draft and a foreshortened James Brown B-side so frantic Savage can鈥檛 resist claiming that it 鈥渃ompletely deconstructed black music.鈥� There are smitten accounts of Wilson Pickett鈥榮 鈥淟and of 1000 Dances鈥� and the Four Tops鈥� 鈥淩each Out I鈥檒l Be There.鈥�
Scanning these passages again, I was struck by how nostalgic just the raw titles made me 鈥� recalling the music sparked an affection and awe that recalling the history did not. I knew this was just art transmuting truth into beauty and pop putting a happy face on 鈥�96 Tears鈥� and 鈥淗appenings Ten Years Time Ago.鈥� But to get a better bead on it I played and replayed "Jon Savage鈥檚 1966: The Year the Decade Exploded," the double-CD he put together for Ace Records to accompany his tome. Soon I found that it sounded even better than it had when I reviewed it back in January. Turns out Savage was righter than I鈥檇 thought about arcana from the Ugly鈥檚鈥� prophetic, anti-hegemonic opener 鈥淭he Quiet Explosion鈥� (all that in 2:40, really!) or the Human Expression鈥檚 freaked-out speed trip 鈥淟ove at Psychedelic Velocity鈥� (鈥淲e were basically trying to attract attention,鈥� Savage was told). And with the music on my mind I began to wonder about something that hadn鈥檛 occurred to me as I read. No matter how 鈥渙bjectively鈥� accounted for, history is always individual for each person experiencing it. What was tweenage Jon doing all this time? How many of these tunes did he relish as a record nerd a-borning?
Having traversed unreasonable elation and tumultuous rage, giddy hope and thwarted potential, Savage ends his big year fraught and exhausted 鈥� on his final musical selection, a fragile Tim Hardin wonders, 鈥淗ow can we hang on to a dream?鈥� In Britain, maybe this was how it was. But in America, I don鈥檛 think so, because subtending what Otis Redding had yet to dub 鈥渢he love generation鈥� was a material base that, as Savage notes, was already shrinking in Wilson鈥檚 UK 鈥� two decades of rising prosperity with three years to go. And for me personally I know this wasn鈥檛 how it was, because 1966 was when I fell in love and found my lifework, while Savage 鈥� and here I鈥檓 compelled to guess 鈥� was a fresh-minted teenager trying to figure out who he was, a struggle I鈥檇 guess once again came to some sort of resolution in punk 1977. How his own life evolved in tandem with his nation鈥檚 during the 11 intervening years is something I鈥檇 love to learn more about.
