When he heard that I was writing a book reviewing the songs of Status Quo a good friend of mine quipped, ‘Does that mean you can’t use words with more than three syllables?’ This, for him, is quite funny. But all credit to Graham for his contribution; he has patiently endured, for many years, my endless jibes regarding his fascination with the prog-rock group Marillion, the diet version of Genesis.
Graham, like many, many others before him, has unwittingly bought into the lazy stereotyping of Quo by a music media that seemed set on savaging them even before they had their hit single breakthrough, ‘Paper Plane’, in 1972. During the first half of the Seventies, Quo produced a stream of inventive, complex blues rock songs which broke the genre’s mould. The second half of the decade, and the early 1980s, saw increasing commercialisation set in to their core sound with some excellent, but mostly dubious, results.
But make no mistake. Quo were innovators, and deserve an appreciation beyond the default setting of ‘moronic three-chord wonders’. What the hard- of-thinking critics are actually attacking is agenre. Take rock and roll, or blues, or country music. Artists composing in these styles all rely heavily upon three chords (tonic, sub-dominant, and dominant seventh, or I, IV and V as they can also be referred to). What Quo did worked extremely well within their chosen style, whether playing it straight (think ‘Caroline’) or making it shuffle (‘Whatever You Want’). They were as successful as they were creative and influential.
Chart conquest, both with singles and albums, and thousands of gigs in front of incredibly loyal audiences defined them as a ‘People’s Band’, not beholden to the fleeting nature of musical fashion. Their ‘look’ (tee-shirts, jeans, and trainers) was just a representation of what they truly were, a working class band from South London. They played the music they loved to fans who were just like them. Despite their phenomenal, and virtually unmatched, success, Quo are rarely thought of in the same light as other major bands of the era (Black Sabbath, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purpleet al). Quo made a unique and highly significant contribution to rock music, and yet the critic’s arrows still managed to pierce the public consciousness more effectively.
It seemed that whilst the work and legacy of other giants of the period was deserving of serious journalistic approval, the press also needed a whipping boy, a scapegoat band, if you will. And Quo, with their unpretentious music and denim-led look, provided the perfect target. From the 1980s onwards, the critics’ comments were on the money. Today the band is a British institution, playing pop-based boogie with a highly commercial edge to an audience that spans entire generations of families. In the Seventies, they were, most definitely, something special.
Anyhoo, Graham’s version of a joke gave me an idea. How many songs by the ‘Frantic Four’ actually consist ofjust three chords? What is the average number of chords per song? Which song has the highest total? And which the lowest? I thought an analysis of the default insult could be an interesting exercise. So, armed with a Telecaster (what else?), an amplifier set to squirrel-bothering volumes, and a smattering of musical knowledge, I set to work. Each song review includes a chord count, and the final chapter of this book, ‘The End Of This Road’, contains th
