Doin' the Norton Rap

Doin' the Norton Rap

AT LARGE

Steven L. Thompson

MOTORCYCLING AND POPULAR MUSIC have never been particularly successful together. We've had pop songs which portrayed the motorcycle as escape vehicle (Roy Orbison's "Ride Away" comes to mind), assault weapon ("Born to Be Wild"), sales object ("Little Honda"), and sociopathic outlet ("Leader of the Pack"). But when I think about "bike songs" that go beyond the stereotypes. that even begin musically to illuminate some of the finer aspects of motorcy cling, I used to think of only two works. The first is Arlo Guthrie's "Motorsickle" song, and the second is the haunting (and unrecorded) bal lad called "The Ton" that Scotsman Mick Reynolds wrote two decades ago about racing at the Isle of Man.

Now there’s a third, at least for me. It’s a delightful piece of social criticism called “Serious Collector,” written and performed by Art Sirota. It’s a lyric encapsulation of a well-known and little-liked phenomenon in classic bikes, part of an album called Norton Songs, and it includes such observations as:

He rolls up to the swap meet in a chaujfeared limousine/a stretch Mercedes-Benz painted British Racing Green!looking for an old bike with a racing pedigree! to lock up in his storage shed where no one else can see.

People who know Sirota probably won’t be surprised to learn he’s just assembled an album of his own songs about Nortons. For starters, at 42, Art’s been a Norton guy for almost two decades, and has been a songwriter ever since he bought a 45 of “Stupid Cupid” as a kid and decided he could do as well or better.

After a childhood begun in the Bronx and ended in Burbank, and after hopping freighters and wandering the world during his college years, Sirota decided the one goal he had above all others was to have a hit song. His BA in English Literature with a minor in Music Theory didn’t hurt him, he says, since a detailed acquaintance with poetry enhanced his understanding of the words part of songwriting.

Along the thorny path to still-elusive musical fame and glory, Sirota discovered motorcycles. More pre-

cisely. he discovered British motorcycles, via his brother’s Velocette. Just as music clicked for Art-the-child, Nortons clicked for Sirota-theyoung-man. He soon had a '71 Commando Roadster, and then was totally immersed in Brit-bikes. This passion is at least partly due to his heritage; Art’s mother was Englishborn. and he was raised drinking tea, not coffee.

In the explosively expanding classic bike world. Art has earned a solid reputation as a restorer and Norton specialist, and in his own locale—the San Francisco Bay area—he’s an active and colorful member of the community. Aiding the technical and mechanical skills he painstakingly acquired, has been his chosen means of putting meat on the table. After helping a friend work on a house, Sirota became fascinated by the arts, crafts, science and business of contracting, and now is a busy licensed general contractor.

So much for the resume. The man behind it, 1 discovered in a very few moments, is animated by a wonderful sense of fun and delight in just about everything. Especially everything relating to Brit-bikes. And that fun, that irrepressibly ebullient personality, is w'hat makes Norton Songs something besides clubhouse doggerel.

Written, performed and recorded by Sirota and Rolf Wyer (studio owner and sometime accompanist) in a three-month period in mid-1990.

the 1 1 songs are thematically tied to the world of Nortons, but not musically alike. They range from rap to rhapsodic, and part of their charm lies in listening to Sirota’s interweaving the various Norton sagas with often-difficult musical idioms.

The results range from the funny schlock of “Elvis’ Norton” (he’s kidnapped by space invaders who discover that they weren't all that smart! for they'd left the Earth with Elvis but forgotten Norton parts) and “My Engine Went Boom! Sha-Boom!” (it made some noises I'd never heard before! it sounded like two superpowers making all-out war), through the Bob Dylan-like “Talkin’ Vintage Norton Restoration” (/ needed infirmation and there weren't many donors!so I called up ad the other Norton singlepiston ownerslThey were a helpful bunch. Whenever I needed parts, they all!told me exactly where to go!) to surf city, with “Surf Nortons” (We ride where the girls get so tan!Nortons handle better in the sand!) and the weird world of rap, with “Norton Rap” ( uh-huh. pretty Junky! um-hum, Norton Junkie1.).

It doesn’t seem likely that Sirota will realize his dream of making a chartbuster with any of these songs, but he’s done something worthy of recognition nonetheless. Like the bards of old. he’s told true folk tales with rhyme and tune. They focus on Nortons, but their built-in sense of motorcyclists’ values makes them nearly universal. The album’s musical qualities are obviously a matter of taste. But not so the stories: They’re about us, Norton freak or not.

Sirota’s trying to sell them, at $ 12 a tape, through his manager, I. Push tit Holme (get it?), at 1281 Laurel St., Menlo Park, CA 94025. The one he sent to me was a free review copy, but after listening to it. I’d probably buy one, since, if I didn't spend the money on Norton Songs, eventually I’d spend it on my Norton, anyway. As Sirota sings, Dylan-like, in “Talkin’ Restoration,” old Nortons are crawling with bugs, and one of those bugs jumped up and bit me on the arm! It was a restoration bug!! You know, I haven't been the same since!

Uh-huh\ Norton Junkie! 0