«Last Spring my recently acquired publishing administrators sent me an e-mail from the music supervisors of an upcoming TV sitcom. They needed a «Main Title,» otherwise known as a theme tune. I’d never tried anything like this before but found myself intrigued by the idea of writing within a set of confines.
Half an hour later, I had the tune and right away booked a nearby studio to record it. Foolishly, they turned it down, even though I’d nailed that sucker.
Two weeks later, another request came along and the same scenario repeated itself, this time with the added nuisance that the «Folks At The Top» chose the most lame piece of work for the show you could possibly imagine.Enough of this, I thought, and went off to write treatments to my own imaginary TV shows which I would grace with the correct theme tunes, not ones chosen by idiots. (Instead of lyrics on the album cover, you get plots!) Hence, Imaginary Television.» – Graham Parker
Long hailed for having a sharp wit and uncanny storytelling ability, Graham Parker might also be clairvoyant – or at least omniscient. Heck, this still-pretty-angry, not-so-young man has foreseen the future of the music industry!
In an era when artists are selling fewer records and being forced to tour until the wheels fall off, the most money and the most buzz is coming from licensing. Sure, it might be almost unbearable to hear Roger Daltrey wailing on the radio these days after getting Who-blasted every time a C.S.I. spinoff is on, but for a lot of indie artists, getting a commercial placement is the difference between wallowing in semi-obscurity and at least having a little money in the bank.
On Imaginary Television, his fourth studio record for Bloodshot (and 20th overall in a 30 year career), Graham Parker combines indelible hooks, penchant for the British blues-rock revival with a touch of the reggae and biting political commentary to produce an incredibly solid record. Channeling Them-era Van Morrison, New York style Lou Reed, and the omnipresent Bob Dylan, Imaginary Television might be a concept record, but like American Songwriter wrote around Graham’s last record, he «hasn’t changed his sunglasses or his approach.» Bruce Springsteen once said that the only band he’d pay to see live was Graham Parker and The Rumour, and Graham’s renegade spirit and ear for hooks have only sharpened over the years.
Songs like «Broken Skin,» which roundabout tells the story of hard-luck fork lift driver Brandine Van Hooven’s life in a Wyoming strip mining outpost, not only work as TV themes, but as instant favorites and declarations of sympathy for the working class. As the lyrics go, «There’s not enough money in this whole world to pay for a break or two.» The Randy Newman-esque «Bring Me a Heart Again» puts listeners in the mind of a ragtag private eye, wandering the Lower East Side looking for the love he’s not even sure he’s capable of anymore and oftentimes working for clients who are as sleazy as the people they want investigated. «Snowgun» not only works as a theme for an IFC character-based drama about a snowboarding bum Hideo Smith and his crew of laid back associates, but as a slow burning Band-style jam, perfect for crisp days on the slopes.
The songs are far from literal, though. Imaginary Television’s tongue-in-cheek lyrical takes on political differences, everyday life and even the constant but infuriating nature of the Weather Channel aren’t just astoundingly accurate boob-tube ditties, but sharp and very, very listenable epics as well. Exactly what listeners have always expected from Graham Parker, and exactly what he
