The Day the Music Died

I recently had this humor article published in the SNU College English Program's newsletter.  It is one of my favorite pieces of writing as it combines so many of the things I love: dripping sarcasm, wordplay, English teaching, and rock and roll.  Hope you like it!

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The Day the Music Died

by Austin Kaufmann

The tragic deaths of rock and roll legends Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and “The Big Bopper” J.P. Richadson moved singer-songwriter Don McLean to write his famous song “American Pie.” And while that fateful plane crash on that shivery February day dealt a blow to the rock and roll world, it wasn’t a fatal one. No, the vibrant movement that was late 1950s rock and roll was a rolling stone just gaining momentum.

The day to which I refer, the day music died, occurred not in our history, but in a hypothetical, dystopian universe, if you will. In this alternate reality the music really did die – in fact, it was systematically slaughtered. What, you ask, could so completely destroy rock and roll? Certainly not the death of a few stars. (The early, tragic death of rock stars has become almost a staple of the industry.) No, it took something much more devastating, more subversive than that.

Imagine then, if you will, the death of rock and roll – the day English teachers took their Red Editor’s Pens of Truth to the lyrics of every rock and roll song. That, my friends, was the day that music died.

Take, for example, the songs of one of America’s preeminent songwriters, Bob Dylan. Once hailed by many, including Alan Ginsburg, to be the greatest American poet of the late Twentieth century, Bob Dylan and his songs were quick to fall under the pens of our grammarians.

With complete disregard to Dylan's use of assonance, "Lay, Lady, Lay" was laid waste, for lack of an object to “lay” across that big brass bed. Likewise, not a single verse of his song “Don’t Think Twice” remained untouched, not even the opening lines: "It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe / It don’t matter anyhow." The English teachers certainly didn’t think twice and quickly eliminated Bob’s nonstandard conjugation, incorrect usage, and subject-verb disagreement, churning out instead this grammatically error-free rendition: "There is not any use in sitting and wondering why, babe./ It does not matter anyway."

Now, the nonstandard language in Dylan's first verse might have caused our English teachers a little discomfort, but it paled in comparison to the horrors of the second verse: "It ain't no use in turning on your light, babe/ That light I never knowed." Seismologists in three continents actually captured aftershocks from the violent shudders that ran up the English teachers’ well-postured spines as they came to that final word.

Another Dylan song gave the editorial staff fits. “It Ain’t Me, Babe” was so full of problems, they hardly knowed… ahem… knew… where to start: "But it ain't me, babe,/ No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,/ It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe." It was clear that starting a sentence with the coordinating conjunction "but" would not do, that the "ain’t" had to go, and that a single "no" would suffice. Some argued for "It is not I," citing that the correct answer to the question "Who is it?" is not "It is me," but rather "It is I." Another faction called for "It is not me," on grounds that the verb demanded the accusative "me." All parties agreed that ending a sentence "a preposition with" was preposterous, and when all was said and done, the newly edited version of Dylan’s classic read: "However, it is not I, Babe./ No, it is not I for whom you are looking."

Sadly, Bob Dylan was not the only musician to have his handiwork butchered. Bands of the so-called British Invasion found themselves under attack. The editors had only to look at the names of some of them to find fault. The Fab Four quickly had their spelling mistake corrected to The Beetles.  Likewise, Pete Townsend, Roger Daltrey, and company were informed that wh- question words don’t require articles, and even if they did, they would have to call themselves The Whom, depending on context. And although the Rolling Stones were commended for the grammatical correctness of their name, perhaps their biggest hit “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” was heavily inked up.

The editors did, however, have some good news for Mick Jagger. It seems that due to his logic-defying “a double negative makes a positive” grammar mistake, he actually has been able to get that sought after satisfaction all along.

He just never knowed it.

By day, Austin Kaufmann is a full-time lecturer in the College English Program at Seoul National University; by night, he performs with his acoustic rock band, The Odds Against.