Roque 101

Something wigged this way comes

by John O'Neill

The history of humankind, from the very moment it was first recorded, has been subject to revision at the hands of its storyteller. Sometimes facts are influenced by the prevailing moral climate, are

the victim of distorted perceptions rooted in ethnicity or religious belief, or are just too boring to leave un-embellished. Occasionally, though, the real truth comes to light. We now know interesting things, like Alexander the Great had a soft spot for men, Paul Revere's epic "ride" was more like a jaunt the length of a Spags-to-Worcester-PD roadtrip, and Columbus wasn't such a noble fellow after all. But no single subject has been altered and disseminated more than the saga of rock and roll.

Modern scholars have pitched the story that rock is a relatively recent phenomenon, developed in America over the past 50 years by combining indigenous genres. Rock became a prolific force (or so we would believe), following World War II, when the country's youth -- no longer content to stay on the farm -- migrated to the city in search of kicks, premarital sex, and jobs that didn't require pulling a cow's nipple at 4 a.m. And not-so-coincidentally, it was demonized as the culprit behind young America's refusal to heed their parents' wishes.

In actuality, rock and roll had already existed for nearly 250 years. Developed by a small group of French and English noblemen during the 18th century, Roque and Rule, as it was called (named after Count Normand Roqueford, who, by his own admission, was "a dastardly knave with a penchant for lusty barmaids," and one sick party dude) was in a prolonged cultural stasis when it was appropriated and used as a scapegoat for societal ills. A master stroke of sorts -- after all, nobody likes the French, so who cares if they started whining? (In a related note, the original plans for the Statue of Liberty depicted the old gal holding a tambourine, while her left arm cradled the sheet music to "Louis, Louis.")

"I believe we invented Roque about 1760, which we caused with the invention of the steam-powered amplifier," explains Lord Bendover from his palatial estate. He and his longtime compatriots have, for the past five years, dedicated themselves to reclaiming Roque as the Upper Crust. "You see, we'd plug in our lutes and mandolins and such. I believe we were also responsible for electrified instrumentation as technology eventually caught up to us."

Though close to 300 years old, and no longer quite sure from which county he emigrated, Bendover is, for the most part, quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and still in love with Roque as much as he was back when he ran in the same circles as did a young Marie Antoinette, whom, Bendover says, "I knew well. I believe she was misquoted. She said, `Let them eat Roque.' But these were in the days before amplification, so she wasn't heard. In those days, no one could hear performers five feet away, so it was passed on to the row behind by repeating it. So, invariably, some distortion would occur. She was simply mis-heard."

Undoubtedly the world's top authorities of rock music, if only due to their longevity, the Upper Crust decided to reform as a reaction to the current state of music. Bendover contends that Roque's golden age ended in 1776, and that the past 200-plus years haven't lived up to their potential, citing "The first misstep was `Yankee Doodle.' We've been struggling ever since to regain footing."

Initially an instrumental with a simple one-four-five chord progression and a straight two-four beat, "Yankee Doodle" was altered and given lyrics by early colonists who transformed the ditty into the more familiar, but far-less-ballsy, fife-and-drum version. Thought at the time to be a radical departure from conventional Roque, it is now cited as the first "Prog" piece, and it opened the doors of wretched excess for future artists like Yes, Neil Peart, and Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

But the aristo-cats were able to keep their cool, that is until Eddie Vedder was anointed a super star. The band -- rounded out by guitarist Duc D'Istortion, drummer Jackie Kickassis, and bassist Count Bassie (former fifth member, Lord Rockingham, returned to his ancestral land to devote more time to sexual debauchery) -- decided they needed to return and to take rock back to its purest form: Roque.

Re-emerging with their 20th century debut, Let Them Eat Roque, and 1997's The Decline and Fall of the Upper Crust, the wigged wonders bashed out their own blue-blood odes to the trials and tribulations of being filthy rich. Songs like "Friend of a Friend of the Working Class," "Highfalutin," "Rock and Roll Butler," "Beauty Spot," and "Monarchy in the USA" explored the dirty underbelly that comes hand-in-hand with breeding, privilege, and class stratification.

"[Wealth] is a terrible burden. I cannot explain it to someone who hasn't experienced it. Everyday I have to spend an incredible sum of money while ensuring that none of it goes to a good cause," says Bendover with a weary sigh. "One might purchase something that appears quite hedonistic, but the money ends up being contributed to some charity, which we don't believe in."

It is that complete honesty that makes them so memorable. Equal parts artist and political commentator, they hold a mirror to the hard-to-swallow truths like democracy is a sham, and good help is hard to find. And it doesn't hurt that the band deliver there sonic missives with a '70s hard-rock wallop akin to AC/DC and Cheap Trick. Which begs the question, have bands knowingly co-opted the Upper Crust sound?

"Yes, AC/DC did, and it's a matter of record. We don't mind. After all, they're from a long way away in Australia -- and that's a several months' sail. As I understand, it's also a penal colony."

After touring the world (with a very large entourage, which provided creature comfort) and appearing live on Conan O'Brien's show ("as important as the Beatles on Sullivan, if not more so"), and now awaiting a third disc, the Upper Crust hope to assume their rightful position as World's Most Important Roque Act. No sweat -- what the common people do, the rich can only do better.

"There's a pantheon of titled Roquers such as `the King,' Prince, and Queen naturally. But one day we shall be recognized as thee great force in Roque and Roll, and I feel it will be the day we play Worcester," muses Bendover. The band play the Lucky Dog this Friday. "Perhaps I'm just impatient, but I have an uncanny feeling history awaits that evening."

If destiny does arrive on Friday and the Upper Crust are realized as true Roque Royalty, there would to be no more mountains to conquer. The common folk would embrace them, the Hall of Fame would make that long-overdue phone call, and common-man artists like Bruce Springsteen, John Cafferty, and most of those in Austin, Texas, would be summarily put to death. What could possibly be their motivation to continue for the next hundred years?

"Well, you know, it's a perversion in which we indulge. The very wealthy are given to these perverse eccentricities. We've tried many, and this is the most sundry, so it's most satisfying," Bendover explains. "We actually treasure the proletariat as a wonderful and inestimable resource, for there would be nothing to exploit without them. They're a simple people; but because of it, we have very fond feelings for them."