BLENDER 2.5:FEATURES: Rock of Ages* 

*18-to-35
The Renaissance of Schoolhouse Rock
Or: how a bunch of do-good ditties became a (marketable!) generational touchstone 

With special appearances by Ween, Lou Barlow and Blind Melon 

Text: Marjorie Ingall
Photos: Zoe Chan 

Conjunction Junction is a busy, busy junction in 1996. Currently hooking up in a cross-media nostalgia assault are Schoolhouse Rock laser discs and videocassettes and CD-ROMs and  websites and MTV specials and  an official guidebook—not to mention an alterna-rock hipster tribute album featuring such luminaries as Blind Melon, Pavement and Ween (but  not Weezer). It’s so overwhelming, I wanna use interjections! What this means, of course, is that it’s time to reflect on the power and cultural legacy of you-know-what for gadzillions of young Americans. (Don’t worry: we’ll set my weighty reflections to music in order to make them both vivid and memorable.) 

The History

Schoolhouse Rock ran every Saturday morning on ABC from 1973­1985, which makes the core audience of nostalgic devotees 18­35 or so. (Though SR started up again in 1993, it doesn’t seem to resonate with today’s youth. I asked a bunch of 11-year-olds if they liked Schoolhouse Rock and they stared at me blankly.)  So how did it all begin? Consult the point ‘n’ click timeline:

1971
“Schoolhouse Rock,” the Idea, is born. 
An ad agency president named David B. McCall realizes that his son, who can’t memorize a multiplication table to save his young life, can nevertheless sing the entire Rolling Stones oeuvre. Hey, thinks McCall, perhaps the devil’s music can be used for the Greater Good! Namely, to teach math! He gives this seemingly ungroovy project to two of his agency staffers, Tom Yohe and George Newall. They call on Bob Dorough, a jazz musician and composer best known for “Do Not Remove This Tag,” a wacky ditty about mattress labels. At this point, the agency seeks merely a rockin’ “educational” record.

1972
A period of testing and experimentation ensues. Dorough’s songs seem to beg for a more visual treatment. Conveniently enough, the ad agency’s biggest account is ABC, so Yohe and Newall pitch the educational rock cartoons idea, and ABC digs it.

hyperlink = ABC digs it 
The network is hesitant to give up advertising time, so the agency convinces another client, General Foods, to sponsor SR, thereby keeping ABC rich and happy and keeping General Foods, makers of sugary cereals, in parents’ good graces. Historical footnote: The hip ABC exec who green-lighted SR was Michael Eisner, now king of the majestically unhip Walt Disney empire.

January 6­7, 1973
SR premieres this weekend with “My Hero Zero,” “Elementary, My Dear,” “Three Is a Magic Number” and “The Four-Legged Zoo.” Limited to 2 minutes and 58 seconds, the spots are as tight and persuasive as any good ad. Children are promptly agog.

hyperlink = any good ad
“Schoolhouse Rock has always been defined by the disciplines of advertising: vivid concepts, artfully framed in a very limited amount of time.”
—Schoolhouse Rock! The Official Guide  

1973
The rest of the numbers make their Multiplication Rock debuts (all but pathetic outcast number one). Buoyed by their success, Yohe and Newall introduce Grammar Rock with “Conjunction Junction” and “A Noun Is a Person, Place or Thing.” The latter, written and sung by a secretary named Lynn Ahrens, was the first SR not written by Bob Dorough. Ahrens was quickly promoted and went on to write 14 more Schoolhouse Rocks and, later, win five Tony Award nominations for writing the musicals, Once on This Island and My Favorite Year. 

1974
A trio of taut classics debuts: “Verb: That’s What’s Happenin’” (featuring the shades-wearing, hairy-chested African-American super hero Verb),  “Interjections!” and “Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here,” which introduces the intoxicating notion that adverbs can be sold in six-packs like beer.

1975
“Unpack Your Adjectives” and the first two America Rocks (stubbornly referred to as History Rocks by ABC) join the lineup: “No More Kings” and “I’m Just a Bill.” Does anyone remember what the Bill was actually proposing in “I’m Just a Bill?”

hyperlink = remember
Answer: That school buses should have to stop at railroad crossings.

1976
Bicentennial fervor hits! Whooo! “The Shot Heard Round the World” makes us proud to be American (and check out the naked chick  in Southern California—I hope I’m not starting a Where’s Waldo­like fervor by pointing that out). “The Preamble (We the People),” “Elbow Room” and “Sufferin’ Till Suffrage” follow.

1977
After the glory of ‘76, there’s nowhere to go but down. This year’s entries—“Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla,” “The Great American Melting Pot,” “Mother Necessity” and “Fireworks”—are memorable chiefly for being totally unmemorable.

1978
As disco fever marginalizes rock, the SR slide continues. “A Victim of Gravity” and “The Energy Blues” (with its perky hopefulness about nuclear energy) do not distinguish themselves. “Interplanet Janet” enters our solar system for the first time, but I am the only person who cares (then or now).  

1979
The Science Rocks series: “Telegraph Line” (used by med schools to show first-year students how the nervous system works, a somewhat terrifying thought), “Do the Circulation,” “The Body Machine,” “Them Not-So-Dry Bones” and “Electricity, Electricity” appear in rapid, dreary succession.

1983­1984 
The nadir. Scooter Computer & Mr. Chips, which NO ONE SEEMS TO REMEMBER, is a series of four lame stories about a buck-toothed skate-rat (with little knee- and elbow-pads, which seem weirdly derivative of Star Wars costumes) and his clunky old early IBM-looking PC. The Schoolhouse Rock creators blame ABC, which commissioned the series out of the delusional belief that kids were afraid of computers. No one even remembers the official titles of the Scooter episodes, because the original animation cells were destroyed in a fire. Coincidence or conspiracy?

1985
How the mighty have fallen. Thanks to the Scooter debacle (and OK, maybe Ronald Reagan, under whom the FCC relaxed its pro-quality stance on children’s programming), Schoolhouse Rock disappears from TVs nationwide.

1987
Golden Book Video releases Schoolhouse Rock on videotape, with a few changes. “Phyllis,” a.k.a. Cloris Leachman, and a passel of chipper moppets who seem to be escapees from the road company of Annie  introduce the segments. Several original numbers are cut. The creators are totally disgusted. Of Cloris Leachman, Yohe reportedly snorts, “She’s just hideous.” 

1989
The beginnings of the hipster renaissance can perhaps be traced to De La Soul, who sample “Three Is a Magic Number” on their album Three-Feet High and Rising. (“De La Soul posse consists of three, and that’s a magic number ...”)

1990­1991
Interest in SR grows. The creators are invited to speak at Dartmouth College. An obsessive University of Connecticut student organizes a national campus-to-campus petition drive to bring back SR. This effort triggers a tidal wave of wistfulness.

1992
ABC listens! SR returns to the airwaves. Theater Bam, a Chicago-based company, starts performing Schoolhouse Rock Live, which later travels to the Atlantic Theater in NYC. The theater concession stands sell Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix, a pandering yet lovely gesture.

1993 
Brand new Schoolhouse Rocks greet a new sugar-cereal-addled Saturday morning generation. “Busy Ps” introduces the concept of prepositions. “The Tale of Mister Morton” teaches subjects and predicates. 

1994 
Reality Bites, the most aggressively marketed slacker film ever, puts the badge of formal Gen-X approval on SR by showing putatively cool, alienated pudgeball Ethan Hawke belting out “Conjunction Junction” on a rooftop. The presence of Janeane Garofalo does not lessen the pain of watching this.

1995 
Money Rock debuts. Hey kids, watch those pennies! You need them to buy plastic toys and Happy Meals! 

1996 
SR Fever reaches critical mass: Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks—the tribute album—appears, with cuts from Moby, The Lemonheads and Deluxx Folk Implosion, among others. “I’m Just an Amendment,” a  Simpsons parody, mocks the Republican Right’s constant efforts to amend the Constitution on moral grounds. Schoolhouse Rock Live is scheduled to open on Broadway. Blender Magazine jumps on bandwagon.

The Artistry

In my humble opinion, the top nine episodes. 

1. “The Shot Heard Round the World”
This one shows Bob’s voice off to its best twangy advantage. And it’s so exciting! It has real narrative and musical momentum. The little pony-tailed Paul Revere was wicked cute. And if I’m ever on Jeopardy and the answer “He said, ‘Hold your fire till you see the whites of their eyes’” comes up, I will know to say, “Who is Prescott?” Thanks, Schoolhouse Rock!
Remake:  Two big thumbs up. An amazing, deadpan imitation of Bob Dorough’s voice, and the lack of surface irony makes it incredibly ironic. That’s Ween, confounding expectations. The only hint of futzing with tradition comes with the excessively articulated hyperpatriotic conclusion.  
Grade: A

2. “I’m Just a Bill”
This is the America Rocks everyone remembers best. Excellent storytelling, catchy melody. The poor Bill! All slumped on the Capitol steps with that terrible, dejected posture. He could die in committee! Also, with his bulbous round nose and perpetual look of anxiety and concern, I think he looks like our president, Bill Clinton. 
Remake: Deluxx Folk Implosion speeds up the pace nicely. However, I feel there is snideness here, and this I do not like. Particularly dismaying is Lou Barlow’s stage-y spoken-word performance as the Bill. It pains me to say this, as Lou was historically one of my larger alternative rock boy crushes. 
Grade: B­

3. “Conjunction Junction” 
Not my fave, but everyone else loved this one, so it’s included here. I think many kids loved the melody (sung by Merv Griffin’s trumpet player!). But I hated it as a kid because you couldn’t see the train conductor’s eyeballs. I found that scary. He could have been blind, or have satanic yellow wolf eyes, for all we knew. I also think I was made anxious by the yards and yards of criss-crossing railway tracks. Someone could get lost. And finally, I simply didn’t understand what conjunctions were. Now I appreciate its artistry.
Remake: Better than Ezra’s textbook rendition is perfectly adequate, but worse than the original. 
Grade: C

4. “Figure 8”
I was compelled by this as a child. Cabaret-great Blossom Dearie’s haunting voice (heard nowadays on Eternity commercials) was unlike anything I’d heard in children’s music, and the hypnotic skating of figure 8s had me frozen wide-eyed in front of the television. When the voice revealed that, turned on its side, 8 is a symbol for infinity, and the camera pulled back to show the tiny skating girl on the vast expanse of white ice, I got chills. (I also think I  liked it because I had girlie math issues, and this was the only Multiplication Rock to star a girl.) 
Not included on the tribute album, probably because the producers forgot to consult me.

hyperlink = wide-eyed 
I wonder now about the line, “Here’s a chance to get off on your new math tricks.” Get off? Isn’t that, like, sexual?

5. “The Preamble”
Mrs. Tempkin was the coolest history teacher. She gave us a freebie on our final in tenth grade by asking “What Is the Preamble to the Constitution?” and smiling while the entire class hummed “We the People” as we scribbled. (Technically, it’s “We the people of the United States,” but she didn’t deduct for the omission.)
Not included on the tribute album, probably because the producers forgot to consult Mrs. Tempkin.

6. “Sufferin’ Till Suffrage”/“Interplanet Janet”
The Female Empowerment sub-genre.  Though mystified by a few particulars (I  thought that “suffrage” was a fancy word for “suffering”),  I distinctly remember reasoning out that the song was saying men ... could ... vote ... and ... women ... couldn’t???? Truly a revelation. Essra Mohawk’s powerful voice galvanized me, but I did wonder about how it could come out of that skinny red-headed white cartoon girl. And “Interplanet Janet,” in which a “galaxy girl” teaches the order of the planets, just kicked ass melodically.
The remake of “Interplanet Janet”: Who is Man or Astro-Man? Excuse my nerdiness, but I’ve never heard of them. They’re awesome! An improvement on the original! Grade: A+

7. “Three Is a Magic Number” 
I knew immediately that this song was not condescending. The section about the past and the present and the future, faith and hope and charity, the heart and the brain and the body ... it was sophisticated. I loved the hippie family frolicking in the hills (the mom had Gloria Steinem hair). The words and music and animation worked in harmony to convey that three really was a magic number. As your typical math-oppressed girl, I found solace in this song. 
The Remake: Superb. Blind Melon’s last recording, eh? Shannon Hoon’s voice and flower-boy aura were a perfect match for it. Lively, not-too-showy arrangement with a nice build to it, the funkier instruments building off the lone keyboard that opens the song. 
Grade: A­
hypertext = math-oppressed girl
The manic opening of the Schoolhouse Rock segments (“Cuz knowledge is power!”) always triggered a mini­adrenaline rush. Yet I remember the sinking feeling when it turned out to be a math one instead of a history or a grammar. I could tolerate “I Got Six,” with its funky beat and Afro’d guy in a dashiki, but I hated every other Multiplication Rock. “Naughty Number Nine” really upset me ... that poor abused mouse getting slammed between cue balls and pounded into pockets by the mean fat cat. His pathetic eager expression broke my little heart. 

8. “Verb, That’s What’s Happening”
I loved the funky funky bass and the girl singers in the background going “Verb! You’re so commanding!” I liked the big eyes on the kid, and the way he jumped into his mom’s arms at the end. (I’m a sap.) I liked when the big Verb tried to hide from the rain under his teeny superhero cape. 
The Remake: Well, it’s different. Moby eliminates the narrative and the bass, replacing them not with a strict techno sound but with an electronic drumbeat and distorted wheezy guitars that get increasingly thrash-y. Whence the funk? This is weird. I’m not advanced enough.
Grade: B

hyperlink = weird
Ed. Note: Weird? Maybe it’s a typical male response, but when Moby snarls the line “I get my thing in action!” it makes this guy want to go hunt and pillage and get my thing in action. Subversively raunchy! A+ for Moby!

9. “Interjections!”
I got off on the illicit thrill of seeing that kid’s butt. Plus the animation was really cute, like when the football player blinked twice, dumbly, precisely on the two syllable word “ba-all.” Totally dug the groovy platforms, mini and Marcia Brady hair on the girl who got the A+, as well as the dramatic Hallelujah Chorus­tribute ending. And finally, I actually got what interjections were (and when to use a comma and when to use an exclamation point).
Not included on the tribute album for obvious reasons. Interjections are way too uncool for laid-back rockers to touch.  Portishead exclaiming, “Hooray!”?  I think not. 
 
The Legacy:
1. Allison, 24, Editorial Assistant (lolly)
2. Julie, 28, Student (Adj, verb)
3. Ellen, 19, Student (the body machine)
4. Dan, 32, Producer (12 toes)
5. Zoe, 28, Acupuncture Assistant (None)
6. Molly, 24, Web Producer (Lolly)
7. Halle, 22, Graphic Artist (Janet)
8. Ian, 28, Multimedia Producer (We, the People)
9. Sorel, 31, Creative Director (Conjunction)
10. Bonnie, 23, Editor (Tale of Mr. Morton)
11. Mark, 27, Internet Geek (Conjunction)
12. Owen, 24, Biker (Conjunction)
13. Nic, 18, Security System Maintainer (The Body Machine)
14. Deevee, 29, Musician (Conjunction)
15. Merin, 31, Scientific Publishing (We, the People)
16. Jonathan, 30, Big Cheese (Math and Grammar, Conjunction, 9, 12, 5)

Conclusion:
Let us all remember that just because something is currently being flogged and marketed and capitalized upon so hard it hurts does not mean it is inherently bad.

Sure, Schoolhouse Rock can be cynically exploited by those who would profit from older Gen-Xers with disposable income and conflicted nostalgic longings. And, yeah, we may have reached the saturation point, after which we will roll our eyes at any mention of adverbs. But SR’s moment is now, and at the very least we must all respect its virtues and musical strengths. Indubitably. 

hyperlink =  inherently bad 
OK, some of those History Rocks were inherently bad. “Fireworks,” in which that poor woman gets chased by a slavering pigboy throughout Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. “Elbow Room,” in which the stealing of land from Native Americans was shrugged off as just part of the big Manifest Destiny for our awesome country. “The Great American Melting Pot,” with the happy foreigners getting perfectly and willingly assimilated: “It doesn’t matter what your skin.” Uh-huh. 

ENDS

Credits: 
Creative Wonders Schoolhouse Rock CD-ROM. Original soundtrack on Capitol records. ABC Video Laser Discs. Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks CD on Atlantic/Lava. Schoolhouse Rock: The Official Guide book from Hyperion, $9.95. Website at http://iquest.com/~bamafan/shr/