The 500 - #229 - Toys In The Attic - Aerosmith

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #229
Album Title: Toys In The Attic
Artist: Aerosmith
Genre: Rock, Hard Rock, Blues Rock
Recorded: Three Studios, Hollywood, California, U.S.A. 

Released: April, 1975
My age at release: 9
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Sweet Emotion

While mental illness is less stigmatized than it was in my youth, society has, for the most part, recognized that mental disorders are endemic and that we should reframe our language to project more compassion and kindness toward those afflicted.

That said, I am also fascinated by language and, in particular, idioms, colloquialisms, idiosyncratic or cultural jargon. When encountering unusual terms or expressions I am delighted even if I bristle with discomfort. It's much like experiencing a bit of dark comedy that, although offside, is perfectly constructed,

Consider the following:

• Meshugenah (Yiddish for insane) is just a fun word to say.
• Bats in the Belfry is a 19th Century U.S. expression for someone eccentric. The clever turn of phrase paints an interesting metaphorical picture.
• As does the title of this week's record, Toys In The Attic -- a relatively new term taken from a 1960 play of the same name by Lillian Hellman.
  

My favourite language distortions come from Cockney Rhyming Slang (CRS), a vernacular developed in the working-class East End of London, England, in the mid-19th Century. Lore has it that to be a Cockney, you must live within the sound of Bow Bells – that is, within earshot of the famous bells of the historic Church of St. Mary-le-Bow (founded 1080). The phrases of this curious and colourful dialect are constructed by replacing the final word of an expression with an unrelated rhyming word. More confusing still, the final rhyming word is eventually dropped. CRS is an idiosyncratic construct better explained by example.

Confused?

The lexicon is deliberately bewildering. Historians are still debating the origin of CRS. It likely started as a linguistic game among East End residents that morphed into a way locals could communicate privately with each other – perhaps for traders to collude in the marketplace, or as a way for criminals to baffle law enforcement when nefarious plans were afoot. Another plausible reason is to confuse the King’s men. You can hear the odd rhyming slang in the British television series East Enders.

Cockney is similar to the cryptic argot known as "Thieves' Cant" which dates back to the Elizabethan Period (1558-1603). It could be spoken or written with simple shapes similar to cuneiform.

Written Thieves Cant (or The Hobo Code).

So, how were bizarre, eccentric, idiosyncratic people identified in Cockney Rhyming Slang?

Well, the last name of actor Patrick Swayze, is often substituted for the word "crazy". But, there is an expression that is even trickier and is based on the expression "Nobody's watching the television" to refer to someone who seems to make behavioural choices without any forethought. In Cockney Rhyming Slang, this might be phrased as, "He's completely custard!" See explanation below.

While it is unkind to disparage someone struggling with their mental health, perhaps you can understand why I find the history of the colloquialisms fascinating. I've debated introducing an activity to my classroom. I would invite students to perform a “deep dive” on an idiom and then present their findings to the class. The idea came from a segment in a podcast I enjoy called Where Did It Come From?  I mentioned this last year and a musically gifted Grade 7 student named Sameed (who, enviably, has perfect pitch) wrote me a jingle -- which could be used to introduce each presentation, much like a stinger is used to introduce a segment on a radio broadcast.

A Book of Idiom Origins I have in my classroom.

Speaking of idioms, this week’s album, Toys In The Attic was the third studio release from American hard rock band Aerosmith. It became their breakout commercial release, selling nine million copies. It featured three chart-topping singles – Sweet Emotion, Walk This Way, and the power ballad, You See Me Crying. I'll admit, the record and band intimidated (yet fascinated) me in 1975. I was nine then and the music I liked (and knew my parents would approve of) was the soft rock found on the AM radio dial. Captain and Tennille, Barry Manilow, Elton John and Donny & Marie were my cup of tea.

Top Pop Hits of 1975.

However, I took the school bus home with plenty of teenagers who talked vociferously about edgier fare, including Bob Segar, Bad Company, The Doobie Brothers, KISS, Alice Cooper, Ted Nugent and Aerosmith. Sometimes, I bravely tuned the family stereo to the FM dial and listened to Detroit radio. Sweet Emotion was the first Aerosmith song I remember hearing. Guitarist Joe Perry makes use of a talk-box, a bit of electronic wizardry that allows the musician to "shape" the sound of their guitar notes by singing through a plastic tube that extends to a foot pedal that can be turned on and off. Much like Cockney Rhyming Slang, it is better understood when seen and heard.

Talk Box (l) and Joe Perry placing the tube in his mouth to use it.

The sound was haunting, mesmerizing and slightly sinister. Just hearing it felt subversive. To add to my confused sense of rebellion were the lyrics, including the following two stanzas

"Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent,
Said my get up and go, must've got up and went.
Well I got good news, she's a real good liar,
'Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire.

I pulled into town in a police car.
Your daddy said I took it just a little too far.
You're telling her things but your girlfriend lied.
You can't catch me 'cause the rabbit done died.
Yes it did."

I'm not sure if I was more concerned about the "sweat hog mama with a face like a gent", incendiary trousers that were victim to "the backstage boogie" or the fact that a rabbit had expired.

Album cover for Sweet Emotion - Limited Edition Single.

Chatter around the schoolyard postulated that "a dead rabbit meant someone was pregnant". I was skeptical but later learned it was accurate. The idiom “the rabbit died” came from a scientific procedure called The Rabbit Test, a bioassay (animal-based test) used in the 1940s to determine pregnancy. Unfortunately for the rabbit, the test required an examination of its ovaries, resulting in the big-eared creature’s demise -- regardless of the results.

Regardless, the idiom lives on ... and so does my love of them...You might say I'm Patrick Swayze for a clever idiom and its origin.