On August 15, 1977 Ohio State University's Big Ear radio telescope picked up a 72 second transmission that still baffles scientists today... and may be the strongest proof yet of an alien radio transmission. SETI Astronomer Jerry R. Ehman discovered the signal days later, writing "Wow!" on a computer print-out. The Alien Wow Signal has never been heard again.
On July 10, 1977 Jonathan Richman's "Roadrunner" , the world's greatest driving song, entered the U.K. charts at #33. It would peak at #11. There are at least three versions of "Roadrunner" worth discussing. There is the 1972 John Cale produced original Modern Lovers version which I would like to call "Roadrunner (Once)". There is the UK hit version, recorded with Bezerkley label mates The Greg Kihn Band in 1974. That's "Roadrunner (Twice)". There is also "Roadrunner (Thrice)", an eight minute live version that was released as a B side in 1977.
In any case the tune conjures up some memories of driving through New England towns in the dead of winter. Boston is still a city I don't know so well. Can we feel nostalgic about a place we've never visited? I think the answer is yes.
When Top of the Pops couldn't get the now acoustic Jonathan to perform Roadrunner on their show, Legs and Company slapped together this silly dance routine.
On June 28, 1977 Jonathan Richman released Rock'N'Roll With The Modern Lovers, an acoustic album that bounced between ethnic folk songs, tunes for kids and funny ditties about roller coasters, ice cream men and a Dodge that doesn't run. At the time, record buyers didn't know what lo-fi was. They just thought the album sounded like it had been recorded in a garage. But that's what makes it such a fun experience. You do feel like you're sitting in a lawn chair listening to these nuts make up songs on the spot.
The Greil Marcus review for The Village Voice :
The new all-acoustic rock and roll album by Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers—Rock ‘n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers—has met with something less than universal acclaim. In fact, I don’t know anyone who likes it very much; some Richman fans, who would probably agree that “Roadrunner” is one of the great significant philosophical statements of our time, positively hate it. Too cute, one hears. Sloppy. Self-Indulgent. Boy’s betraying his talent. Etc. Friends to whom I’ve passed on the record suspect my motives. Rock ‘n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers is the purest rock and roll album I’ve heard this year, rooted as it is in the idea that as long as you keep a good beat, rock and roll is what you can get away with. Thus, in the spirit (not the form) of the earliest each and roll records—those Sam Phillips made with Elvis on Sun, those Buddy Holly cut in Clovis, New Mexico, or those Frankie Lymon waxed in New York—Richman and his little rock trio (Leroy Radcliffe on guitar; D. Sharpe on the smallest kit any rock drummer has used since Charlie Watts’s equipment failed to arrive at a San Diego gig on February 6, 1964; Curly Keranen on stand-up bass; one of them or maybe someone else on sax) offer an LP that combines Chinese and South American folk songs, an instrumental called “Egyptian Reggae,” the old children’s song “The Wheels on the Bus” (“Go up and down/All around the town”—there’s also a monster on the bus, however), “Angels Watching Over Me,” plus tunes about leprechauns getting back into rock and roll, the ice cream man, a rollercoaster, and a car called a Dodge Veg-0-Matic—marvelously funny numbers no one else in rock and roll but Richman would have written. The result is not just good rock, but music that sounds like rock and roll in the process of being invented—for the first time or all over again, it doesn’t much matter.
The playing is what first attached me to this record: the band has a natural sense of momentum, orchestrating Richman’s wild, scatter-shot vocals with what sounds like (and can’t be) spontaneous back-up singing, brightly strummed guitar, cracked sax work, and a light, utterly perfect rock and roll beat. The music makes sense of the sometimes crazed stories Richman is telling—why is there a monster on the bus? Why did leprechauns abandon rock and roll in the first place? The loose grasp on reality implicit in a number of the stories makes the music sound rational, though in truth it is just as nervy as Richman’s complete willingness to expose his weirdness to the crowd.
After a bit, nothing on this record sounds “cute.” The leprechauns are just people relating to… anything; the sudden passion that lifts Richman’s singing in the middle of “Rockin’ Rockin’ Leprechauns” simply refers to the possibilities of passion in the rock and roll vocal. “Roller Coaster by the Sea,” with Richman’s neat asides (“Whee!” “Hmmm, scary”) is on the third time around merely a brilliant rendering of one of the fundamental themes of rock and roll, and of most popular American music, the search for peace of mind. “Dodge Veg-O-Matic,” while an act of real genius in terms of conception—not to mention execution: “I’m gonna tell you ’bout a car that you won’t like,” Jonathan promises, “It’s my Dodge Veg-O-Matic, there in the parking lot/I like It, I like to watch it rot”—is traditional rockabilly absurdity on the level of “Tongue-Tied Jill” or “Miss Froggy.” Not only has Richman recreated rock and roll, he has recreated for the listener the purity of the original response to rock and roll. I found the appeal of this album obvious when I first heard it, because it seemed to me what rock and roll was supposed to sound like. The very first rock and roll records sounded like that too, to people who heard them in the early fifties, even though at the time those people had likely never heard of “rock and roll.”
Still, I don’t feel entirely comfortable understanding Rock ‘n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers so easily. When I first listened to Elvis sing “Hound Dog” I heard nothing but a fierce joy, an unbounded sense of delight; the racial contradictions inherent in the music went right past me, and I didn’t catch up with them for close to 20 years. On Rock ‘n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers I hear insanity shaped, by a shared musical tradition, into an authentic style of freedom that is capable of creating delight as intense as that offered by Clyde MePhatter on “Money Honey” or “Honey Love.” That pleasure obscures the troth that the insanity may well be real; that, back in the corners, this may be a very dangerous album—for Richman, if not for me or you. The good beat of the music covers up the fact that Richman’s vocals are flights over the cuckoo’s nest; there is a monster on his bus, and it may catch up with him someday; the leprechauns may give up on rock and roll again, and Jonathan might find himself deserted by the fairy-tale audience that lives in his head, the audience to which his songs are ultimately addressed. If that happens, he might well fly tight off into life’s mystery, as he sings at the close of side one of Rock ‘n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers, and just not show up for side two. If the search for peace of mind is a basic theme of rock and roll, that only means that rock and roll is basically a response to chaos—the world’s, or one’s own.
For the moment, none of this matters. Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers have made an epochal album, and I think those who cannot hear it now will find their way to it as time goes by. Regardless of what the consumers are doing, the leprechauns are applauding, and, as Jonathan growls at the end of “The Wheels on the Bus”—“Ha! We got rid of that monster!”
Robert Christgau liked the album. He gave it a B+ writing:
This all-acoustic record is even further in general tough-mindedness from Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers than that fey testament was from The Modern Lovers; it defines the difference between a child who is cute and a child who knows adults think children are cute. Sometimes I think I should hate it. But in fact I don't, because its self-indulgence represents not the manipulative arrogance of a star but rather the craziness of an almost powerless case of arrested development, and you can hear that. However unattractive a child Richman may be, he does convey the fragile lyricism only children are capable of.
On August 22, 1975, a year before Berserkley Records released the magnificent and oft-delayed Modern Lovers album, they unleashed upon the world a revolutionary single: Jonathan Richman's "Roadrunner (Twice)", featuring Richman backed up by Beserkley labelmates The Greg Kihn Band.
It's a simple rocking tour of the suburbs of Boston Massachusetts in a car that's going "faster miles an hour" with the radio on. You can hear Richman's infatuation with The Velvet Underground as you head out with him on Route 128 passing the power lines. At a time when art rock usually meant side long epics that quoted gurus or at least J R R Tolkien and featured twelve minute guitar solos, here was a song that might -MIGHT- have three chords in "Roadrunner". Greil Marcus called it "the most obvious song in the world, and the strangest."
As you might have guessed, this isn't the first version of "Roadrunner". That would be "Roadrunner (Once)", as recorded in 1972 by The Modern Lovers with John Cale producing. No, this is "Roadrunner ( Twice)", the most successful version. It reached #11 on the UK Charts even though it was all but ignored in the United States. Some credit the tune with inspiring Punk Rock. It was recorded by both The Sex Pistols and Joan Jett.
By 1975, The Modern Lovers ( featuring future members of The Cars and Talking Heads) had been broken up for a year and Richman had told record executives he was sick of the songs and wouldn't perform them live. But at least for one moment, and one song, Beserkley truly was the "home of the hits".
The Modern Lovers were so far ahead of their time, by the time anybody "got" their Velvet Underground meets the Boy Wonder dynamic, the band's leader was already heading in another direction.
It is the Fall of 1973. Based on 1972 demos like, "Roadrunner" and "Pablo Picasso", recorded under the supervision of John Cale, Warner Brothers signs The Modern Lovers. That should be great news for singer Jonathan Richman, bassist Ernie Brooks, future Talking Head Jerry Harrison and future Car David Robinson.
But the band is in no mood to celebrate. During a residency at the Inverurie Hotel in Bermuda, Richman discovers the joys of acoustic music as played by Calypso bands. Richman sings about that life changing period on Having a Party 's "Monologue About Bermuda".
Richman no longer wants to play electrified rock and roll. It didn't sound right and it isn't good for the planet.
Drummer David Robinson told Spin Magazine
Jonathan was obsessed and we couldn't talk him out of it. He wanted to play acoustic on street corners and at rest homes and I was supposed to play a rolled-up newspaper by banging it against my fist. I was the first to leave.
Sensing trouble, Warners cuts the band which soon breaks up. In 1976 Beserkley Records releases the Cale produced demos as The Modern Lovers. Critics go gaga. Eventually so do I. But Richman isn't coming back to amplification. He's busy singing about little insects and martian martians.
