What happens when a good rock band or solo artist turns bad? What are the dynamics at work? Can we learn anything from these tragedies?

For example, how does a band like Chicago, once respected by luminaries like Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, end up writing songs like “You’re the Inspiration?” We at Crimes Against Rock have completed an exhaustive investigation into the inner workings of this phenomenon that has ravaged the rock world for far too long.

In most cases the culprit was a combination of unstable band lineups or shifting power structures brought on by new band members. In other cases there are no clear answers; the move to sucktown an enigma. So we are left to drown ourselves in beer, wondering why someone like Rod Stewart, blessed with one of the most kick ass rock voices ever, would piss most of his career away asking us if we think he’s sexy.  

We do have some evidence that suggests a larger conspiracy that may tie all our research together, but it would be premature to present our nascent findings at this point. Besides, we’re kinda drunk, and Roadhouse is on the tube tonight so….

We present part one of our series When Rock n Roll Goes Bad

               Michael McDonald joins The Doobie Brothers

Between 1971 and 1974 Northern California’s The Doobie Brothers had it going on. The Hell’s Angels dug them. They offered sweet guitar rock suitable for road trips and bong hits. Hell, their name was slang for pot. In short, they were a pretty cool rock band. This guy was a typical fan of the Doobs circa 1974:

So what the hell happened with these guys? They went from hard rock to wuss rock in the space of like three years. Who’s to blame?

Well, Jeff “Skunk” Baxter joined the Doobie Brothers in 1975 and fucked them in the ass. Baxter was well known for his work with studio-meisters Steely Dan, and his intricate minor chord jazz inflected playing should have driven the Doobies to new heights of rock awesomeness.

Instead Baxter was the instigator of the Doobie’s descent to sucktown.

When guitarist and songwriter Tom Johnson became ill, shortly after Baxter joined (hey we’re not suggesting anything here, just pointing out historical fact), the band was left without a band leader and songwriter. “Hey,” Baxter said, “I know this guy, he sings real pretty, plays piano, and even writes his own songs!” Enter Michael McDonald. McDonald is one of the biggest wussies in rock history. He brought a soul deadening brand of empty plastic blue-eyed soul soft rock that essentially killed the Doobie Brothers.

Here is the aforementioned Doobie Brothers fan's initial reaction after listening to the opening chords of 1978's “What a Fool Believes”:

As you can see, he was very confused. You might say he had what was known during this era as "a freak out." 

And what were the long term effects of the Michael McDonald suckatron on the Doobie Brother’s fans? Consider our typical fan three years after “Minute by Minute” was released. He started listening to Christopher Cross, went into rehab, and currently works for Blackwater. He considers himself a patriot.

Look at what happened to him! Our sweet little happy stoner guy, now a Christopher Cross listening, defense contracting, cigar chomping, corporate stooge. Damn you Michael McDonald! Damn you to hell!

Perhaps you think we’re exaggerating. You don’t have to take our word for it. Listen to the music:  here are the Doobies in 1973, at the height of their coolness

Now, witness what happened to the band after they’ve taken the train to sucktown on the McDonald express:

                           

Sir Mick. Mr. Bowie. After all these years, we are still at a loss. You guys are two of the most respected artists in the history of rock. What was the thought process here? Bad coke? Money? Did you lose a bet? To borrow a phrase from Greil Marcus, what is this shit?

 Sir Mick, you led, arguably, the greatest rock band on earth. You are the rock front man that all front men are measured against. Those serpentine moves, the raw sexual androgyny tinged with danger. We certainly don’t need to tell you that you are a rock god. You were born in a cross fire hurricane, you made us have sympathy for the devil, and you showed a hell of a good time while we were exiled on Main Street. So what brought you to this lowly state in the mid 80s? How was this ever a good idea?

And you, Mr. Bowie, you are one of the most creative and original artists in rock history. You made glam cool. You pushed boundaries and expectations. You were always original. How did you end up here, dancing on the street in this shitty video?

I don’t think you guys understand the ramifications of what you did. For many of us, in my generation, this was our introduction to you. For the longest time I refused to listen to the Stones, thinking that your strange and sad cover of “Dancing in the Streets” was representative of your music. Of course I learned the truth of your awesomeness, but I’ve never forgotten the disgust and shame in discovering you cavorting with Bowie to a badly produced version of “Dancing in the Streets” in this turkey of a video.

And what about the betrayal your longtime fans must have felt? God, it must have been awful, like walking in on your parents having sex, or discovering that hot chicks fart.

I notice that we, as a society, don’t discuss this transgression much. We are, for the most part, happy to forget. But the sheer awfulness and betrayal displayed here should never be forgotten. We salute your respective careers, but our eyes are wide open. As great as both of you are, we can never fully trust either of you again.  It is what is. Just thought you guys should know.