In Defense Of Rick Astley

By now you’ve no doubt seen this:

And wondered what on earth was going on.

For those of you who either slept through the ’80s or insist you have no memory of same, Rick Astley was one of several British blue-eyed pop/soul acts from said decade, songs awash in sanitized synthesizer beats and equally sanitized lyrics about true love or variations thereof.  It never harmed anyone. It wasn’t advocating a lifestyle of cheap cigars and wild women.  Or for that matter wild cigars and cheap women.  It was something to enjoy for what it was: pop music you could usually dance to.

Some danced better than others, of course…

The sheer rhythm-less nature of most everyone involved with this video no doubt fueled its ascent as the focal point of a pop culture phenomenon known as “rickrolling,” the fundamental premise of which is establishing a link on any given Web page promising whatever — the latest scoop, hot photos of a given celebrity — but actually pointing to the video.   As his appearance at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade demonstrates, Astley himself finds the humor in it all.  A good and regrettably rare thing in this era of über-serious artists self-consciously depicting every word and action emanating from their being as worthy of an oracle.  Or some other database program.

That all said, set it aside for a moment.  Astley had a good run, compiling several hits during the glory days of his career.  Despite the dated aspect of their production and arrangement, the songs themselves were and are solid tunes well performed by Astley.   He was and is an excellent singer.   You can do far worse in the pop realm.  (See Spears, Britney.)

My favorite Astley song has always been this one.  I have no idea where Astley is at spiritually, but at least in this song he shows the heart of a fine gospel singer.   Give it a listen.   You’ll be the better for it.  And that’s no rickroll.