model of youth: the argument for shivers as a timeless classic
( outdated, has since been rewritten, please don’t read this - it is very bad. )
A timeless classic, as defined by someone who has no business defining it, is a song which can be sung over and over, recreated and expanded upon countless times, covered relentlessly, occasionally even rewritten, and never loose it’s charm. A song that sticks in the consciousness of the listener for days, weeks, months, even years after. A song which, when it comes on ages after your previous hearing of it, still shoots a bullet against your heart and fills your veins with an excitement similar to the first hearing.
Be it on a jukebox in a desolate diner at midnight, or a genius DJ spins it coincidentally while you’re at a retro night. This song is vicarious, it exists within all listeners without them even realising it. These songs become the anthems of many people’s youths, the rallying cry of the peaks of hundreds of lives, and on many an unfortunate circumstance they can also become reminders of the most miserable of moments and heartbreaks. Timeless classics follow you throughout your entire life and, generally speaking, they get twenty four seven radio play.
You find yourself mumbling along to songs like ‘Hotel California’ in the grocery line on an average Tuesday afternoon, and you think to yourself; “not this shit again.” And once more on the car ride home, and then again from your obnoxious neighbour some time in the middle of the night. What I’m saying is, these tracks are inescapable.
Yet one of the remaining mysteries of these songs, is what truly makes them ? What arrangement of chords, what series of notes, which mixture of syllables construct such an ageless song ? Must you be a relative of Christ ? Or a martyr ? Or a starving artist ? Or a Kerouac-like, perpetual escapist, constantly down-on-their-luck sporadic potential lunatic raving on the side of the road ? Or do must you be simply a fragile sixteen year old, on the edge of the rest of your life, glancing over a crowd of your peers with a shield of cynicism over your judgemental eye ?
There’s a connotation to the underdog superstar case that implies you rise against the muck and reach the heights of The Eagles and Queen in the array of singles known by millions. You scrape off your shabby exterior for a new, cover of Rolling Stone magazine look.
The closest thing to this phenomena I can think of is Nirvana's 1991 ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’ which effectively ruined the careers of hundreds of up and coming (and significantly better) acts, but nonetheless gave voice to America’s newfound league of self professed rejects. This track, the main hallmark of grunge, gave rise to an influx of copycats and remained as such forever. This song must play on every alternative radio station in the world at least three times a day, and it never leaves. À la the underground rises to the pop. Naturally, this is the way of not only bands like Nirvana and Queen, who have produced numerous hits, but also the way of many one hit wonders. Mainly hailing from the 1980s, bands like A Flock of Seagulls, Dexys Midnight Runners, and The Vapors find themselves being known only by one song. But these are songs they collect royalties on for ages to come. These one hit wonders still benefit, our narcotic expression of heartbreak and sarcasm, does not.
Unless you are an avid consumer of “obscure” of music or lived through it yourself, our subject is more than likely unknown to you. But I’m here to make the case for it, the case that it belongs not just in the ranks of these timeless classics, but far above them in a personal luminescent garland hung up by the edges of the stars which surround it. It is today we discuss Rowland S. Howard’s seminal and deathless 1976 masterpiece ‘Shivers.’
There are many songs worth boasting about and there are many songs that I have heard that have taken me aback growing up, having been raised on the likes of Bauhaus and the Damned I found myself in quite a stir of eclectic individuals. As a child I idolised Dave Vanian for his looks, Peter Murphy for his voice and theatrics, fell head over heels for Stiv Bators (though at the time I had no idea who he was), and by the age of ten was certain I’d heard it all. An arrogant thought to hold, I know, but we all think these things at some point in time in our lives.
I had only known of Nick Cave as a figure who I had been described to me as simultaneously on top of the world and beneath it as well. Although intrigued by the notion of living a dual life, I had no interest in delving into his career. At the time I was too transfixed by Jarvis Cocker to care for much else and was in a state of rejection towards anything that was considered to be “gothic rock” and had recognised “Release the Bats” as the anthem of the Batcave era. Needless to say, being raised by an original new waver and a death rocker, I didn’t care.
I wish I could describe to you an idyllic scenario, perhaps one in which I happened past a cracked window blasting the song, or a miraculous vinyl find, but my discovery of Rowland S. Howard was fairly typical. I had been lying in my father’s bed, staring up at the off grey ceiling and ignoring his musical choice until the distinct sound of a piano had caught my attention. Due to this instrument being an unusual occurrence in my father’s selection, I immediately ripped out my headphones to listen.
Now I must make an important distinction here. It was not the voice of Nick Cave that drew me in, nor was it really the instrumentation of the track, but the first lyric. “I’ve been contemplating suicide / But it really doesn’t suit my style.” I had propped myself up on my elbows, a smile spreading across my lips, and peered over my father’s shoulder at the computer screen displaying a pale man of puppet-like features forcing out lyrics he didn’t seem to gather. It was evident from the get go that this song was not nearly as emotional as it was being portrayed, and for this I adored it. I’d had enough of love songs, I practically adamantly rejected love songs with my every move. So this beautiful expression of sarcasm was right up my alley.
I had jumped to my feet, now standing directly behind my father who knowingly smiled up at me. My question of “Who did this?” was not answered adequately, as he responded simply with “Nick Cave.” I had taken another look at the singer, who looked like a Nick, and then took note of the name. “Boys Next Door, Shivers.”
This lyric stayed with me for weeks, eating me up like a parasite. It was all I needed to hear, and in such a ballroom manner as well. When I close my eyes and look past the iconic music video, I always envision a darkened high school gym during prom, couples awkwardly embracing each other for a slow dance they’ll regret immediately after. I was out for blood with this one, and made it my main directive to know about every aspect of it.
As I had assumed, the song was written by the guitar who was carrying the track (I say guitar as Howard and his Jaguar may as well be one being), the pale bird-like figure who was only shown briefly. With just a few searches, I’d come across the original recording of the song with Howard on vocals by the Young Charlatans.
Upon first listen I couldn’t wipe the smirk off of my face. This was the delivery I had been searching for, a voice with a vaguely quivering edge to it to accentuate the obvious derisiveness of the lyrics. I adored it, and furthermore I adored the brittle looking boy who sung it. This would lead to finding my first true inspiration in Rowland, but that is a tale for another rant.
What strikes me so much about ‘Shivers’ is its malleability. This is evident in the contrast between the original Young Charlatans version and the more popular Boys Next Door version. Though Howard would later confess to having never exactly perfected the track the way he desired, to a loving fan like myself, it is more than immaculate, especially the original which stays more true to its initial intent.
Rowland asserts his outlook with just enough versatility that at first glance one could assume the sentiments written to be genuine, but he sings much how he speaks in this version with a sense of sarcasm which gives the version more character. In Cave’s version, he belts the lyrics out in a heart wrenching manner which implies nothing short of pure devastation. But it is this difference in interpretation with highlights the reason this song is everlasting.
In order for a song to reach a large portion of people’s hearts, it needs to voice a passion powerful enough to mean something but vague enough to be seen through any man’s eyes. These kinds of songs are difficult to make to stand the test of time. Many fall on one end of the spectrum or the other, either too specific therefore dating it or too vague therefore rendering it void.
Shivers, however, rests itself perfectly in the in between. It hits the sweet spot, to put it simply. Though it may not have been Rowland’s intention to create something which could be made into anything other than what it is, one must admit that art is nothing without subjectivity. The beauty of this song is that it can fit you, it can fit me, it can fit your neighbor, in any way possible. It is endless in its outreach to others. As perhaps Warhol would argue, it is perfect in it’s ability to be recreated. So many of the songs you think of as classics have been covered innumerably, despite their interpreted worth or quality, and yet still stand as an individual piece separate from not only the entirety of the artist’s discography - but from the rest of the musical realm itself.
Shivers does this impeccably. It is everything you want it to be, all whilst remaining so much more. And though to many it may be seen as hard to swallow, it settles inside you despite an initial shock. Shivers glides through perception with ease, aided by many beautiful voices which has carried it throughout the years, and was born exquisite.
- LM