Leftovers: 1971-Thank You Daniel Ellsberg

[purchase]

Since I started writing here almost exactly 10 years ago (my first piece, a holiday post about The Roches’ Christmas album published as a guest ran on December 18, 2011), I’ve written more than 400 posts (plus a few special pieces, like our annual “Top Posts” collection), but I don’t think that I’ve ever created one like this. I’m also not sure that I’ve ever written a sentence with two parentheticals, but I probably have. 

What’s so special—or at least different—about this post? It’s about a song that I never heard until I decided to write the this, by a band whose name I recognize, but I don’t think that I could name a single song that they released. For the Leftovers theme, we’re supposed to look back on the previous year’s themes, and write something that would have fit in one of those. It’s a tradition here, and a good one, because it not only is appropriate for the post-Thanksgiving slot, it allows us to revisit ideas that we might not have been able to get to before, because of work, or life, or general ennui. (It also gives us a break in thinking up themes during the holiday period—especially now that, after all these years, it has become increasingly hard to think of something clever for the Christmas period that hasn’t been done already). 

But that’s not what I did here. In looking back at the themes that I only wrote one post for, I vaguely remembered some unwritten ideas—I thought about writing a Woodwinds leftover about obscure prog-rock band Gryphon, which featured crumhorns—but I decided to go in a different direction. (As you will see below, though, I still mention prog-rock and woodwinds.) For out 1971 theme, I wrote about the Fillmore venues, but I didn’t write another piece for that theme. So, what were memorable things that happened in 1971? (not my 10th birthday party, which I don’t remember. Sorry, Mom.) Well, on June 13, 1971, The New York Times began to publish sections of the Pentagon Papers. In short, these documents demonstrated that the U.S. government had long been lying about many aspects of the Vietnam War. Now, I’ve written once before here about Vietnam, and I mentioned in that piece that my senior thesis in college was about television’s coverage of the war, so I thought that a piece about the release of the Pentagon Papers might be interesting. 

Like today, in 1971, American democracy was under attack. There were marches in the streets over the war, civil rights and other issues. It wouldn’t be long before a president and his henchmen tried to subvert the democratic process, for which he was impeached. Even as a kid in those days, I could sense the uncertainty, distrust and division. 

What became known as the Pentagon Papers was a report commissioned in 1967 by Robert S. McNamara, then the Secretary of Defense, on the political and military involvement of the United States in Vietnam from World War II to 1968. The conclusions of the report were explosive, and it was classified, so that it would not be seen by the general public. 

Daniel Ellsberg, a government consultant, gained access to some of the classified documents and leaked them to the Times in June of 1971. What happened next was complicated, and included court injunctions, a senator using his immunity to enter part of the Papers into the Congressional Record, other newspapers publishing the papers, more court proceedings, and ultimately, the Supreme Court upholding, 6-3, the right of the press to publish, and the high standard necessary to obtain a prior restraint. Justice Black wrote in his concurring opinion: 

Only a free and unrestrained press can effectively expose deception in government. And paramount among the responsibilities of a free press is the duty to prevent any part of the government from deceiving the people and sending them off to distant lands to die of foreign fevers and foreign shot and shell. 

That’s something that we need to keep in mind today, when some politicians have tried to bully or force the press to stop doing this critical job. 

Ellsberg was indicted on charges of stealing and holding secret documents. But a mistrial was declared when it emerged that the Nixon administration ordered agents to illegally break into the office of Ellsberg's psychiatrist and attempt to steal files; that representatives of the Nixon administration approached the trial judge to offer him the FBI directorship, and, believe it or not, other irregularities. 

The Post, a pretty good movie about all of this, came out in 2017, directed by Steven Speilberg, and starring some lesser known actors like Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep, (and Matthew Rhys as Ellsberg) did a good job of explaining the situation, the risks that the various newspapers took, and the importance of their willingness to take the risks. I’d recommend renting it. 

Oh, yeah, this is a music blog, not a history or politics or law blog. Or a movie blog. There’s a song being featured here—“Thank You Daniel Ellsberg,” by Texas band Bloodrock, which emerged from Fort Worth in the late 1960s. Generally referred to as a “hard rock” band, their second album, 1971’s Bloodrock 2 hit no. 21 on the Billboard Pop Album Chart, and they released two more albums with this lineup. But the band’s guitarist, Lee Pickens, and singer, Jim Rutledge, left the band, to be replaced by vocalist/woodwind (aha!) player Warren Ham, and the band’s sound shifted more toward prog-rock (aha!), jazz, and pop (although the band’s third album actually contained a Soft Machine cover. Of all things.) 

The first album with the new lineup, 1973's Passage, contained our featured song, which is a bluesy number that does exactly what the title says. Here are the lyrics, in their entirety: 

I wanna thank you Daniel Ellsberg
For all the notes that came from you
I said I wanna thank you Daniel Ellsberg
And maybe Louis Packwood too
For scheming out all the schemers
You now have set a trend for you 

I wanna thank you Danny boy
For what you said
For what you said and done
I said I wanna thank you Danny boy
For what you said and done
You've stricken from all the pages
But you don't know that you're the one

 I can’t figure out who Louis Packwood is. Any thoughts?

1971>POSTHUMOUS: Cry of Love

 

purchase [Cry of Love]

Just before Cry of Love was released in 1971, the Jimi Hendrix Experience was over, and Jimi was doing a fair amount of collaboration with an expansive cast of musicians you might not have been aware of (Stephen Stills? Steve Winwood? Chris Wood? Well, yeah. Both Wood and Winwood were together in Traffic at that time.) Sadly, when Cry of Love was released, not only was the Experience finished, but so was Hendrix's life.

One issue with a posthumous production is how close to the musician's intentions the final release is - to what extent have external influences colored the work in a way the artist might not have done? On this count, the score appears to be that Cry of Love is pretty likely close to what Hendrix would have aimed for. Band member Billy Cox points out that while Hendrix had a fair amount of leeway in the studio, the final product was ultimately not his call. Further, band member Mitch Mitchell was one of the team involved in the mixing and track selection. For that matter, the public seems to have regarded the album as an authentic Hendrix album rather than a posthumous work. I know I certainly did, and that may be partly because it came out relatively soon after his death.

So, Cry of Love doesn't end up in the official Henrix discography, but IMHO, it is the culmination of his art and style. Are You Experienced shattered my awareness of what music could be. Axis refined it. Electric Ladyland perfected it, (let's leave out Band of Gypsies). Cry of Love is Hendrix matured.

My preference is for the melodic Hendrix, as in Burning of the Midnight Lamp and 1983 ,,, A Merman I Should Turn to Be , so it fits that I also like this (the clip appears to be the only one available here that isn't a cover)

And maybe Freedom (this version from John Findlay - I did mention: the originals are nigh on inaccessible at YT)

1971: Aqualung

 

purchase [ Aqualung ]

My parents were serious amateur musicians. My dad directed a vocal choir of 40+ and an orchestra of 25+ in twice yearly concerts of religious music (The Dutch Chapel Choir). They  took voice lessons and, of course, got their progeny started on the right path: starting the four of us off with recorder (=blockflut) lessons for all starting at about age 7. It meant I could at least rudimentarily "read" music. I moved on the the "regular" flute and made a stab at the trombone before I segued to the guitar.

With a portable reel-to-reel tape device, I recorded a few improvizational flute and clarinet pieces with a classmate back in '69. (Wish I had them to look back on! I recall they werent too bad for a 14 year od)

'69 turned to '71 - finding me now in boarding school 1000's of miles away from parental supervision - but music was still at the forefront of my mind. One of my first independant actions was to buy a "stereo". But, owning and operating a record player involves feeding the beast. As such, I was lucky to be at the end of a Reading Railroad line that landed me about 2 blocks away from the train station in Philly- I want to think it was Tower Records that was right next to the station but my memory is hazy and it doesnt really matter. It was a 60 minute train ride, the place was stocked with everything and the prices were... competitve (I recall ~$10.00 per album in 1971). My collection grew rapidly.

As I noted previously, my first LP came with the stereo I purchased: Who's Next. (also 1971) I would be hard pressed to lay out the sequence of the expansion of my collection, but Aqualung must certainly have followed soon after. More likely it would have been Benefit first. Flute and rock, after all. By this time, I had all but lost interest in furthering my flute skills. I was more into listening than performing.

In general, Jethro Tull - for me - was and is still a little too grungy. In fact, the imagery associated with Aqualung calls up a fair amount of disgust (snot running down his nose .. Ian Anderson's strandy matted hair ...) But Benefit and Aqualung  contain some of the best of 71's music. While Ian Anderson may be the better known face/name of the band, as an amateur musician who has since gravitated to the guitar, I wouldn't want to overlook Martin Barre's sizable contribution.

Aqualung, in some ways in alignment with my remarks about 1971's Yes and Genesis, is conceptual and a reaction/disillusionment with a crumbling belief in traditional religion (ah.. back to my parents again). Barre himself has commented that Anderson got credit despite their collaboration: "I've done bits and pieces on albums.Sometimes it's a riff, sometimes it's a little segment of music..." Mark Knopfler, Joe Satriani and Steve Vai credit him as an influence.

Aqualung

Locomotive Breath

1971: Fillmores

Allman Brothers: Whipping Post
[purchase Don't Fight the Feeling - the Complete Aretha Franklin & King Curtis Live at Fillmore West ]
[purchase Allman Brothers Live at Fillmore East Deluxe Edition]
[purchase Mothers Fillmore East-June 1971]
[purchase Humble Pike Performance Rockin’ The Fillmore] 

1971 saw the closing of both the Fillmore West and the Fillmore East, the legendary venues operated by the equally legendary rock impresario Bill Graham. The original Fillmore Auditorium was located in a San Francisco building originally built in 1912, and Graham began booking shows there in 1965. It eventually became the center of the San Francisco music scene, with incredible musical performances and famous light shows. But in 1968, because of the increasing deterioration of the neighborhood and the insufficient size of the space, Graham moved his focus to the newly christened “Fillmore West.” That venue, formerly the Carousel Ballroom, was briefly run in 1968 as a cooperative venture by the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service and Big Brother and the Holding Company, before Graham took ownership and began booking shows there. (The original Fillmore was, for a while, operated by a different company as the “New Old Fillmore.”) 

The name “Fillmore West” was chosen because earlier in 1968, Graham had taken over a derelict space in New York City originally built for the Yiddish theater in the mid-1920s, and opened it as the Fillmore East. That venue, like its West Coast sibling(s) became hugely popular and influential, with shows on multiple nights a week, typically triple bills at 8 and 11 pm. The Fillmore East also featured elaborate light shows. 

However, by1971, the economics of the music business was changing in favor of stadium and arena shows (boo!), and Graham decided to shutter both venues. The last concert at the Fillmore East was an invitation-only affair on June 27, 1971, featuring The Allman Brothers Band, The J. Geils Band, Albert King and special surprise guests (Edgar Winter's White Trash, Mountain, The Beach Boys, Country Joe McDonald). The Fillmore West closed on July 4, 1971, after five nights of concerts by 14 bands, mostly from the San Francisco area, including Santana, the Grateful Dead, Hot Tuna, Quicksilver Messenger Service, and the New Riders of the Purple Sage. 

The Fillmore West eventually became a Honda dealership, before becoming a music and event venue called SVN West. The Fillmore East went through a few other iterations as a music venue before becoming The Saint, a gay nightclub in the 1980s. The former lobby of the venue is now a bank, and the auditorium was demolished to build an apartment building. 

The original Fillmore became a punk venue, The Elite Club, before reopening under Graham’s management. It was damaged in an earthquake, and after Graham died in 1991, it was repaired and reopened as The Fillmore. Live Nation operates the venue and has rebranded a number of theaters around the country with the Fillmore name, although in some cases, most notably at New York’s Irving Plaza, it didn’t take. 

Although 1971 was a bad year for the Fillmores West and East, it was a good year for albums recorded at the venues. On May19, 1971, Aretha Live at Fillmore West was released. It had been recorded there in March, and included a number of covers of current popular music. It’s pretty great, featuring, in addition to the amazing Franklin, King Curtis on sax, leading a band that included, among others, Billy Preston, Cornell Dupree, Bernard Purdie, and the Memphis Horns. And there’s a duet with Ray Charles. During the same shows, King Curtis’s band, which was also the opening act, recorded its performances (mostly covers), and they were released as Live at Fillmore West in August. Tragically, a week after its release, Curtis was stabbed to death in New York. 

If there’s one album that rock fans associate with the Fillmore East, it is the Allman Brothers’ At Fillmore East, recorded there in March, 1971 and released on July 6, 1971. I’m not really sure what else to say about this album that hasn’t been said better by others. Suffice to say that it is one of the greatest live rock albums of all time, and probably just one of the best rock albums of all time (which is why when I picked one song to feature above, it was from that album). In 2004, the album was selected for preservation in the Library of Congress, deemed to be "culturally, historically, or aesthetically important" by the National Recording Registry. 

In June, 1971, The Mothers (formerly known as The Mothers of Invention, led by Frank Zappa) recorded performances at the Fillmore East (and some additional performances in May in Michigan), for Fillmore East-June 1971, released in August. It is raunchy and juvenile, and while it has some good music, really hasn’t aged well. 

Humble Pie, which featured Steve Marriott and Peter Frampton, recorded performances at the Fillmore East in May, 1971, and released Performance Rockin’ The Fillmore in November, 1971. I can’t say that I’m at all familiar with it, although I have a vague sense that I’ve heard the single from it, “I Don’t Need No Doctor.” Before the album was released, Frampton left the band for a few years of minimal success before he came alive, briefly.