Music is defined by time, tempo, rhythm, and duration. In many ways, so are bands. Most bands have their time, a moment, however fleeting, that they can call their own, a time when they meant something to their fans, to the culture, to the world. Others are ahead of their time, forcing the world to keep up with their tempo, to keep pace with their genius or be left behind. And then there is Spinal Tap, a band who transcends time completely, a band playing to a beat all their own, inevitable and unstoppable, a band for the ages.
David St. Hubbins, Nigel Tufnel, Derek Smalls, and a drummer. It’s a simple recipe really, but like any great dish, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It was 41 years ago that we first got a glimpse of how this epic rock and roll stew comes together. Thanks to famed documentary filmmaker Marty Di Bergi and his film This Is Spinal Tap, the band’s tumultuous, ultimately triumphant 1982 US/World Tour will forever stand as a testament to rock and roll brilliance and the volatile, ultimately loving, relationships that make that music possible.
Both Di Bergi and the band deserve credit for allowing such a naked, honest portrayal to exist at all. It would have been reasonable, understandable even, if Spinal Tap had preferred to keep their artistry a mystery, to leave the truth beneath a layer of skin tight leather and behind a wall of thick, dry-ice fog. But instead, they let us in, the proverbial curtain pulled back, the Wizards of Rock revealed. It’s hard to imagine we would have monumental rock and roll documentaries like Gentle and Soft: The Story of the Blue Jean Committee and Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping without the influential force that is This Is Spinal Tap. For the first time fans everywhere got a chance to see what goes on behind the mythic stage performance, to live in the liner notes, to hear the real-life stories that make the legend. Would we get a moment like Paul McCartney writing the melody to the titular song in Get Back without first witnessing Tufnel give us an exclusive look at one part of the still unreleased d-minor musical trilogy “Lick My Love Pump”? I doubt it. Their 1982 tour, which began in America and concluded, triumphantly, in Japan, was not always easy, but then again, genius rarely is.
Take, for instance, the tumult that surrounded their totemic 1982 record Smell The Glove, a drama that plays out in detail with Di Bergi’s film. We all know the cover the boys eventually landed on–iconic, sleek, beautiful, impenetrably black–but consider for a moment their original idea and how differently that might play today. Much has been made of the reveal of pop star Sabrina Carpenter’s most recent album cover, which sees her on all fours, a collar around her neck, a man off-screen leading her around like a dog. Brave and provocative, said many, a feminist icon owning her sexuality. But I ask you, how different is this than Spinal Tap’s original Smell The Glove layout, which saw, as described by the band’s publicist Bobbi Flekman, a “greased, naked woman on all fours with a dog collar around her neck and a leash, and a man’s arm extended out up to here holding onto the leash and pushing a black glove in her face to sniff it”? Sexist and offensive, is how it was described by label management, who refused to see the boys’ sexually progressive vision through, stifling artists clearly ahead of their time.
Of course, the story of Spinal Tap starts well before 1982. In many ways, their history mirrors that of the last 70 years of popular music as a whole. Or perhaps, it is music history following them. Today we hear much praise for artists willing to defy the constraints of their genre, throwing off the shackles of convention to follow their muse wherever it may lead. For St. Hubbins and Tufnel, a pair of scrappy English lads who met in primary school, this instinct for musical exploration was second nature. From their early days in the skiffle group The New Originals (formerly The Originals), to the breakout hit “Gimme Some Money” released as The Thamesmen (in many ways the thinking man’s answer to the age old Beatles/Stones debate), to their hippie anthem “Listen to the Flower People,” this is a pair of songwriters setting the tone for several different generations of music fans. And like many a genius before them, Spinal Tap was often woefully misunderstood in their time. “Shit sandwich” said one reviewer in response to their record Shark Sandwich, an album we now acknowledge as an overlooked masterpiece. The same can be said of their nuanced, thoughtful foray into Christian rock, The Gospel According to Spinal Tap, a concept album of monumental proportions. You’d think, by the time 1982’s Smell The Glove came around, the band who had produced such wonders would be due the benefit of the doubt, but no such trust was given. No matter, Spinal Tap was always prepared to do things the hard way.
Which brings us back to that 1982 tour, and the hardships they faced along the way. It might be hard to imagine now, but the very existence of the band hung in the balance throughout the tour. Like any fruitful creative relationship, Tufnel and St. Hubbins (the “Shelley and Byron” of Spinal Tap) did not always see eye to eye. With stress mounting, and love clouding St. Hubbins’ piercing eyes, Tufnel felt increasingly isolated in his vision for the band. When one of his more brilliant ideas goes wrong, involving a unfortunately diminutive bit of druid imagery, tensions only increase. Like many a tempestuous mastermind, Tufnel would, in the film’s pivotal moment, go on to quit the band, threatening the very existence of one of rock’s greatest groups. Of course, we now know that this was far from the end for Spinal Tap. In fact, in many ways, this was just the beginning.
“Out of the emptiness, salvation, rhythm and light and sound,” sings St. Hubbins on Spinal Tap epic “Rock and Roll Creation.” And now, 41 years after their fateful tour, their prophecy comes to light; Spinal Tap are returning to our screens, to our hearts, to our eardrums once again. Like many lesser bands before them–Oasis, Pavement, Black Sabbath–Spinal Tap are coming back together, ready to shred, to rock, to turn up the volume to 11 once more. I don’t think it is possible to understate the importance of Spinal Tap and the long shadow their career has cast on the history of rock and roll, but is it possible their future will be even more influential? When it comes to Spinal Tap, anything is possible.
