National Celebrations: Saturday in the Park

Chicago: Saturday in the Park
[purchase]

This week’s theme gives me a chance to write a little about my wife. She loves music and has a beautiful voice. When we first met, our shared love of music was one of the things that we bonded over. One of our earliest dates, in fact, was to see Bring on the Night, the documentary about the creation of Sting’s first solo album. Of course, no two people have exactly the same musical taste. Mine tend to skew harder and gruffer than hers, which are more folky and mellow. However, there is a significant enough overlap that we can coexist. (Aside—there is a station on Sirius XM called “The Bridge” which plays soft rock and which I call the Roach Motel of radio—once we start listening, I can’t get out, because my wife pretty much loves every song they play, leaving me with no chance to change stations and hear a different genre.)

When we had been dating for a little while, I was living in Manhattan working as a lawyer at a big Wall Street firm, and my (future) wife lived in Queens and had a job in Manhattan. She often stayed at my apartment, but only because it was convenient. Really. On Election Day, I worked and she didn’t, and when I came home, I discovered that she had moved in. One might think that this showed a certain level of commitment, and I guess it did. But we always said that we knew that we were bound to stay together when we integrated our record collections. Hundreds of vinyl albums, alphabetized together, would be very difficult, if not impossible, to separate, so we were stuck with each other.

She didn’t have any Sex Pistols, or Clash, or Genesis, and I didn’t have any James Taylor or Carly Simon, but there was overlap, and we both had pretty large Chicago collections.

Chicago was one of my first favorite bands. I saw my first concert when I convinced my parents to take me to see them at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, where I also smelled marijuana for the first time. (And where, a few weeks ago, I returned to see my son graduate from college. Cue “Twilight Zone” music.) I still love early Chicago, when they played complex music, often with social or political messages, and even when they played love songs. In general, I think that a horn section makes any song better. Of course, in the late-1970’s (after original guitarist Terry Kath died), their music became increasingly schlocky and generally awful and unlistenable, to the point where most “serious” music fans wouldn’t admit their early greatness.

“Saturday in the Park,” from Chicago V is one of their most well-known songs, and one of their best. Supposedly written by Robert Lamm after a July 4 walk through Central Park where he saw the varied musicians and entertainers that were performing, it is a snapshot of the holiday activities. Not everyone uses their national celebration to make obvious, patriotic statements. Lamm’s song about the way that people, in the middle of New York (during one of the city’s worst periods), could enjoy themselves, hear Italian songs, laugh, dance and eat ice cream, is maybe a more convincing statement about the greatness of America than something that shoves the sentiment down your throat.

Trinomial Bands: Two Cow Garage

Two Cow Garage: No Shame

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Two Cow Garage is a rock band from Columbus, Ohio, that inserts elements of punk and country into their music. My friends tell me that they are one of the best live rock bands going these days, but unfortunately, I have yet to see them in the flesh. This song is off of their 2007 album III (not surprisingly, their third album), which is one of my favorite records from the last decade.

The song "No Shame" is essentially about quitting the band and getting a 9-to-5 day job.

Well now there's a guitar that's leaning on my wall,
the instrument of my ultimate downfall.
And notebooks scattered all over my floor.
Six hundred pages all filled with regret,
and hundreds of songs that I ain't finished yet,
and a job application getting harder to ignore.

I spent the last half of 2011 and the first half of 2012 unemployed, and this song became my theme song as I pondered changing careers. Fortunately, I did not have to change careers, and neither did Two Cow Garage. They are currently working on their sixth album (not entitled VI).

(Sorry this post is so short. Heat wave + no A/C = no brainpower for Aimz.)

Trinomial Bands: Eddie From Ohio

Eddie From Ohio: Twenty Thousand Hearts

[purchase]

It's been over three years since we last saw Virginia folk foursome Eddie From Ohio on these pages, and a couple of years since they last headlined at Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, a heady camping-and-more extravaganza on the NY/MA border where several of my fellow Starmakers are known to congregate the last weekend in July, and where, though they're known better, perhaps, for more wry, upbeat twirl-along tracks from a sweet series of albums, this quiet favorite, especially, has been known to echo off the hills beautifully, reminding us how well the band plays tender, too.

But Edheads, rejoice: I'm happy to announce that juliemikeeddie&robbie will once again be returning to the hills of Hillsdale, for their usual mainstage madness and - most especially - to host the Sunday Morning Gospel Workshop. I'll be there - and so, I suspect, will fellow FRFF/SMM regulars FiL and Susan. Feel free to stop in, folks; we're in the kid-friendly campsite with the white picket fence around it, with a full cooler to share.

Bonus video, taken live and on site at Falcon Ridge - can you believe it's been almost a decade since this set?

Trinomials : Young Fresh Fellows

Young Fresh Fellows : Aurora Bridge

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In their own humorous, self-effacing way, The Young Fresh Fellows are everything you  need to know about the Seattle music scene, which is really made up of a surprisingly small but tightly-knit group of people who are music lovers first and foremost. Nerdy types who worked in record stores just so they could use their employee discounts to buy the same records they'd been bombing customers with all day. Cellophane Square, in Seattle's University District, employed members of The Fastbacks, Modest Mouse, Kinski and many other bands including the unruly haired Scott McCaughey of The Young Fresh Fellows. 

The Fellows achieved some cult status sized fame around the country in the 80's and in the 90's but in Seattle they were the cool slightly older brothers of the rock scene, adored by most. Annoying only to bands who came up with great, clever and novel ideas for songs only to hear that The Fellows had already done that.

When The Fellows were taking time off, Scott played with his friend Peter's band. You wouldn't know the name if I said it so I won't bother. Okay it was R.E.M.

In 1999, on an afternoon before Danny DeVito hosted Saturday Night Live, Scott and members of R.E.M. were walking down a street in Manhattan when a fan from Seattle stopped them and asked what they were doing in the city. Buck said they were playing Saturday Night Live. "You're kidding!" the fan said. "That's so cool! The Young Fresh Fellows are on Saturday Night Live!"

Trinomial Bands: First Aid Kit

First Aid Kit: Emmylou
[purchase]

 So what if I told you that the best Americana you'd heard in years didn't hail from somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, but rather from a little suburb of Stockholm called Enskede?  And what if I then told you that it was being made by two young sisters, aged 21 and 19 respectively, who despite their ages and geographical dislocation had somehow managed to tap directly into the vein of hickory-infused Blues and Soul that most modern Country acts search in vain ever to even locate, let alone access?  And on top of all that, what if I told you that they were possessed of the assurance to conjure up the image of the titular Country legend, as well as the ghosts of Gram Parsons, June Carter and the Man in Black himself, inviting them to acquiesce to their effortless ascension to a pantheon most could only dream of emulating? Kind of unlikely, no?

Trinomial Bands: Janne Da Arc

Janne Da Arc: Gaia
[purchase]

Acid Black Cherry: Ai no Baka! (Stupid Love)
[purchase]

It's been a month since I lost every song and image I've ever posted here. While part of me expected the hammer to fall, internet times being what they are, part of me is still in mourning the loss. What's worse is that I now lack the tools to continue a streamlined method of posting here. I'm going to try this post; you may see an image, and you may get the songs but not the "play" links (kkafa, my co-blogger, has fixed this problem for me; thanks!) And because I'm posting J-Rock, I'm not sure if this is going to be a pressing issue, really. Still, I'd like to try one last time to reach out with music that makes me hum.

Janne Da Arc was not actually named after Joan of Arc but rather a Devilman manga character. Janne da Arc is a visual kei band from Osaka that formed in 1996, and they're still going strong. The lead singer, Yasu, has also spun off a successful solo band, Acid Black Cherry (hey, another trinomial name I've linked, w00t!)

Trinomial Bands: Change Of Pace

Change of Pace: Bring My Buddies Back
[purchase]
In 1971, at the height of the Vietnam War, Freda Payne sang one of the great anti-war songs, “Bring The Boys Home” and had a surprise hit with it, taking the composition by General Johnson, Gregory S Perry and Angelo Bond to #12 in the US charts.

Soon after, a little known soul band called Change of Pace reworked the song, presenting it from a whole new perspective. Where Payne stated her request as an observer, Change of Pace framed their case from the point of view of the soldiers who have done their tour, and accordingly are much more invested in the fate of their comrades left in ’Nam.

The sweet soul of the original is now accompanied by the martial counting rhythm, and the lyrics are changed to account for the new perspective.

In one of those cruel quirks of musical fate, Change Of Pace did not enjoy the success they merited on account of their Bring My Buddies Back LP, an album of fine soul music, perceptive lyrics and a couple of very good covers, including a great one of Conway Twitty’s hit “Hello Darling”.

Trinomial Bands: Electric Light Orchestra

Electric Light Orchestra: Sweet Talking Woman

[purchase]

I’m sure it shows my  age: there can’t be too many of you out there who listened to or even remember Electric Light Orchestra back in the '70s. And I confess that when the name of the band came to mind as a “Trinomial Band”, it didn’t take long for me to dredge up the name “Jeff Lynne” in association. Lynne had an inclination toward the classics: note the use of the strings in several places.

The music has shades of late Beatles, Bee Gees and Genesis. Genesis (to me) because of the changes/extended/compository nature. Bee Gees/Beatles: I think that’s obvious enough in the vocal harmonies. Seems to me that you’ll likely  also notice the roots of The Travelling Wilburys in this tune. No surprise: Jeff Lynne later went on to help found the Travelling Wilburys along with George Harrison.

Trinomial Bands: Dead Men’s Hollow

Dead Men’s Hollow: Grandma was a Cropduster

[purchase]

I was first introduced to Dead Men’s Hollow in 2005 with their debut album called “Forever True.” About a year later, they released their album called “Two-Timin’.” The band from Virginia, Maryland and D.C. plays Acoustic Americana, roughly defined as old-time, bluegrass, southern gospel and country blues fronted by three-part female harmony vocals and backed by acoustic stringed instruments.

Founded in Arlington, Va., they take their name from an area near there that was dominated by saloons, pawn shops and houses of ill repute in the aftermath of the Civil War. Today, that area is known as Rosslyn, but back then it was called “Dead Men’s Hollow.” To pass through safely, law-abiding citizens traveled in well-armed groups.

On a hot, humid summer day in 2001, Dead Men’s Hollow began as an impromptu backyard jam session. Upon hearing some real potential with their three-part harmonies, the friends decided to form a band.  Original members Belinda Hardesty, Caryn Fox and Mike Clayberg enlisted bass-player Bob Peirce in the fall of 2003. Amy Nazarov (vocals) and Marcy Cochran (fiddle) joined in late-2003, and the band then began seriously gigging.

Nazarov grew up singing madrigals with her folks, on stage and in church choirs, and supplying backup vocals for friends. Peirce has played for 30 years, including stints in classic rock and blues bands. Multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Hardesty holds a music degree and teaches school.  Cochran is a longtime folk music fan. From New York, Fox is a classically-trained soprano who writes and sings country heartbreakers. Clayberg (guitar, Dobro, mandolin, tenor banjo) played punk rock for 20 years before returning to his Virginia old-time country roots. In true collaborative fashion, each member brings things to the table that make for a convincing, cohesive musical presentation. Their instrumental work isn't flashy, but it has whimsical and expressive folksy charm.

Besides their spirited instrumentation, Dead Men’s Hollow has a harmony-laden signature sound that has built them a legion of fans. They emphasize their charm, effort and playfulness. The band’s vocal harmonies are of special note -- warm, friendly, and a perfect showcase for their earthier side. No doubt influenced by the “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” phenomenon, the band clearly has a lot of fun.

On the sampled 2006 album, guest banjo-player Dan Mazer joins them on "Grandma was a Cropduster," "A Tale of the Week," and "Glory Land." The former, written by Bob Peirce, is an imaginative fictional account of a high-flying woman. It enlists the support of Ron Goad on backing vocals.

Since the release of their “Two-Timin’” album, Peirce has apparently moved on to other endeavors, and Jared Creason now fills the shoes on bass. He holds a B.A. with a minor in music from Indiana State University. In September 2010, Dead Men’s Hollow released a new album called “Angels’ Share.”

Trinomial Bands: Flat Earth Society

Flat Earth Society : Feelin' Much Better

[Purchase]

A group of talented teens from suburban Lynn, Massachusetts, Flat Earth Society won a contest by writing a radio jingle for the F.B. Washburn Candy Company's new Waleeco candy bar. Their prize: an opportunity to cut an album. The band only had half an album's worth of material but desperation provided fine inspiration. Among the inspired moments on the 1968 album : getting the cool phasing sound on "Feelin' Much Better" by spraying a can into a bucket.

Once they finished the album, they had one more obstacle in their way. This time it was one that proved far too great to overcome. Anyone who wanted to hear the album, unfortunately titled Waleeco,  had to send $1.50 plus six candy bar wrappers. Yeah, that didn't happen much. But today you can get your own copy of the album by sending just $19.60 plus shipping to Amazon.com. 

Trinomial Bands: Creedence Clearwater Revival

Creedence Clearwater Revival: Bad Moon Rising

[purchase]

Trinomial Bands: Three Dog Night

Three Dog Night: Shambala


[purchase]

Shamb(h)ala is the Buddhist “Pure Land” (Wikipedia). In the 1960s and 70s, the West adopted it as a mythical spiritual land of perfection and peace. Like many beliefs and concepts from the hippie 1960s and 70s, knowledge about the philosophy/concept was based on “fragmented accounts” and uninformed stories.  It was a land somewhere around Tibet.

What was important for the “peace/love” hippies was its mythical value as a land of inspiration and promise. In many ways, it was nearly a synonym for Shangri-la: a hidden, mystic land in the Himalayas  where everyone lived and worked for the good of mankind: a lot like the American (hippe) commune.

Three Dog Night – still touring today – hit their prime in the late 60s and early 70s. The Internet tells us that Shambala – typical of most Three Dog Night songs – was not of their creation. It did, however, rise pretty high on the charts in 1973. They sang:

Wash away my sorrow, wash away my shambala
Everyone is lucky, everyone is kind
On the road to Shambhala

Three Dog Night is credited with 7 Gold records. Among their hits that you ought to/are probably familiar with are:
One (written by Harry Nilsson),
Momma Told Me Not to Come
Joy to the World
Easy to be Hard

Trinomial Bands: Go Betty Go

Go Betty Go: You're Your Worst Enemy
[purchase]

Since I’ve started contributing to this blog, I seem to have written a great deal about my son, and not so much about my daughter. That is probably in part because my son and I have more similar tastes, and in part because by the time she was interested in going to concerts, her older brother could chaperone her. But we do have some good stories.

In 2004, my son wanted to go to Warped Tour. He was 14 and was in a punky phase. If you don’t know what Warped Tour is, it is a full day, multi-stage outdoor festival that is targeted at teens, and usually focused on punk, emo and other permutations of the style (screamo, ska, metal, etc.). It is also a great marketing event, with tons of sponsors and merch booths. I agreed to take him and a few of his friends to the show, which was held at Randall’s Island off of Manhattan. As it turned out, it was a great day. A rare August day that was warm, but not hot, with no humidity. We saw some great bands, including NOFX, Anti-Flag, Flogging Molly, Coheed & Cambria, Bad Religion, Sugarcult and Tiger Army. Because so many of the kids were in their early and mid-teens, there were lots of parents and there was a dedicated parents’ tent for all of the chaperones who wanted some air conditioning and a place to sit, but I never needed it. I had a blast.

Flash forward a year. My daughter is now almost 12, and she wants to go to Warped Tour. The lineup isn’t as good, but I had so much fun, I agree to take her, my son and a friend of his. This year, however, it is 100+ degrees. The hottest day in New York in years. Something that didn’t really register the year before is that there is almost no shade, and whatever shade there is, is filled with people and their trash. We do see some good bands, including The Transplants, Dropkick Murphys, My Chemical Romance, the Fear Nuttin’ Band and Motion City Soundtrack, but there are too many damned emo bands that sound alike. It is so hot, that I, a 44 year old lawyer with two kids, find myself lying in the dirt trying to stay cool. Luckily, the promoters provide free water trucks, or there would have been even more people passing out than we saw (they did have good medical support, though). And the line to the parents’ tent is incredibly long, so I don’t even try to get in.

At one point, my daughter and I are not interested in the bands playing on the main stages and head off to check out the smaller stages. Although there are girls at Warped Tour, the audience is mostly boys, and the bands are mostly male. We stumble upon a stage featuring an all-female band, rocking out. They are Go Betty Go, and they are great. The singer, Nicolette Vilar, has an incredible punk voice. Her sister Aixa is a muscular, powerful drummer, Michelle Rangel is a strong bass player, and the guitarist, Betty Cisneros, rocks. We enjoy the hell out of the set, and we buy their CD at the merch table. I was glad that there was at least one female role model for my daughter, who is a singer. Although her repertoire skews more toward singer/songwriter and soul these days, I’d like to think that seeing Go Betty Go reinforced to her that girls can rock.

At about 4, there is a brief rain shower that is welcome because it cooled everything down and kept some of the dust out of the air. Although Warped Tour 2 wasn’t the great experience of Warped Tour 1, I still had a great time, got some great stories, and shared some musical memories with my daughter.

In 2006, Warped Tour moved to The Nassau Coliseum parking lot, and we didn’t follow.

This song, “You're Your Worst Enemy,” is from the EP that we bought at the show. It is the first track, and is pretty much what you will get from the band. Tight playing, some harmonies and great hooks. The next year, Go Betty Go released a very good full length album, but canceled the end of the supporting tour apparently due to dissention in the band. Singer Nicolette Vilar left and ultimately was replaced by a singer who later was on American Idol. From all reports, the band is basically defunct, which is too bad.

Trinomials: Robert Earl Keen

Robert Earl Keen: The Road Goes On Forever

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Since the world of Country music is rife with trinomials, and since it's been all of two months since we posted anything from one of our most beloved favorites here on Planet Starmaker, here's an eleventh-hour dance hall kicker from true-blue Texan cowboy country artist Robert Earl Keen, on longplay from his utterly incredible 1996 live cassette, released with some fanfare in the usual digital formats in 2004. The lyrics alone show what this man's worth: true folk fans will recognize the cadence, the lyrical structure, and most notably the fine narrative turn in the final verse as picture-perfect use of the ballad form, though the audience seems content to merely holler along.

Trinomials: Ray Wylie Hubbard

Ray Wylie Hubbard: Conversation with the Devil

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While we are on the topic of progressive country songwriters from Texas with three names, I present Ray Wylie Hubbard, who collaborated extensively with Jerry Jeff Walker in the 1970s. You all can google up Mr. Hubbard's biography, so I am going to tell you how I discovered his music.

I was walking home from work one evening in the mid-2000s, when I was living in Toronto. I always cut through Grange Park on my way to/from work. The park is located behind an art school, and on a nice day the park would be filled with students and other harmless slackers who had nothing better to do than smoke dope. On really nice spring and fall days this park would contain so many weed smokers that there would be a giant mushroom cloud of smoke above the park, and you would get high from second hand smoke by just walking through the park. I miss Canada.

Anyhoo, as I was meandering home through the dope smokers, the song "Conversation with the Devil" popped up on my Zune (stop laughing). This song was my introduction to Hubbard. The song describes the narrator finding himself in hell, and trying to sweet-talk the devil into letting him out. As the devil is giving the narrator a tour of hell, the devil points out the murderers, rapists, and politicians serving their time in eternal damnation. My favorite lines: "What you won't find up in Heaven are Christian Coalition Right Wing Conservatives, country program directors, and Nashville record executives." I literally giggled to myself as I made my way through the fog of marijuana smoke. This song is brilliant!

Hubbard's albums of the last 20 years are some of the best alternative country records you will ever hear. They contain masterful storytelling, insightful observations on daily life, and lessons for the road-weary. That last sentence was pretentious blogger-speak for, "makes ya think." Especially when walking through a park full of stoners.

Trinomials: Jerry Jeff Walker

Jerry Jeff Walker: Dear John Letter Lounge

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The progressive country music movement of the 1970s spawned many three-name acts, among them Ray Wylie Hubbard, Willis Alan Ramsey, Michael Martin Murphey, David Allan Coe, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, B. W. Stevenson and Billy Joe Shaver. Even Johnny Paycheck, trying to establish his '70s outlaw creds, added a third name and briefly recorded as "John 'Austin' Paycheck."

But, the archetypal trinomial progressive country singer is Jerry Jeff Walker. The name Jerry Jeff Walker seems to fit the man. He sings and write like someone who should be named "Jerry Jeff." Indeed, it's such a perfect name, it almost seems like it couldn't be real. It isn't. He was born 70 years ago in New York with the name Ronald Clyde Crosby.

So from where did the "Jerry Jeff Walker" sobriquet come? I found a zillion sources stating with great authority that Ronald Clyde Crosby adopted the stage name Jerry Jeff Walker in 1966, just as he was establishing himself as a part of the Greenwich Village folk scene. None of these citations offered details on the origins of the name. Finally, thanks to Google Books, I came across a Texas Monthly profile of Jerry Jeff Walker from 1979, written by humorist Roy Blount Jr. Humorist Roy Blount Jr. Not noted biographer Roy Blount Jr. So, who knows if this is true: "Jerry came from his drinking ID; Jeff came from (he thinks maybe) the movie star Jeff Chandler and Walker either from a musician named Kirby Walker or the movie star Robert Walker."

Regardless of its origins, the man with those three names put out some great music over the years. "Dear John Letter Lounge" is ripped from one of his best records, It's a Good Night for Singing. Neither the album, nor this song, has never been put out on CD.

Bonus track: The trinomial Jerry Jeff Walker spawned a trinomial band: (the) Lost Gonzo Band. The Gonzos backed Jerry Jeff during his glory years. Here the Gonzos offer up the original version of bandmember Gary P. Nunn's "The Last Thing I Needed," later made famous by Willie Nelson.

Lost Gonzo Band: The Last Thing I Needed

[purchase (vinyl only)]

Trinomials: Hank Williams Junior

Hank Williams Jr.: Mobile Boogie

[purchase]

What a difference a single word can make. Hank Williams: The architect of all that is right with country music, the tortured soul who grabbed listeners with his songs of pain and sorrow, good times and wild times, with an aching voice and a poet's gift for language. Hank Williams Junior....well, not quite in that league.

That's the paradox of the "Junior" suffix. Your dad's name may kick open a few doors for you. But, it dooms you to a life of being measured against your forbearer's legend -- and usually not favorably.

Technically, he's not even "Hank Williams Jr." His real name is Randall Hank Williams (as you may know from the many times he proclaimed "this is rockin' Randall Hank" during the musical introductions to Monday Night Football), dad was born Hiram King Williams.

While Hank Williams Jr. is no Hank Williams, I would argue with anyone claiming that Junior made it solely on his father's name. Certainly, the father's legend helped the son land a recording contract while he was still young. Hank Jr. released his first record at age 15. Throughout the '60s and early '70s, he put together a string of mid-charting hits. Williams the younger's voice doesn't much resemble his father's, nor did his records from this period, which were pure Nashville countrypolitan. But, countrypolitan has its place, and Williams's output compares favorably to what was played on country radio at the time.

Then, in 1975, he suffered a near-fatal mountain-climbing accident in Montana. Williams emerged not only with a new face (replacing the one smashed against the rocks of Ajax Mountain), but a new sound -- influenced by Waylon Jennings, the Charlie Daniels Band and southern blues. As he healed, he recorded sporadically. Those albums were impressive, particularly Hank and Friends -- featuring musicians from CDB and Marshall Tucker -- The New South and One Night Stands. ("Mobile Boogie" is taken from that latter release.)

As Williams recovered and returned to a frenetic pace of recording and touring, that level couldn't be maintained. His records became predictable and, well, dumb. The right-wing form of political correctness seeped into his writing, and he also displayed a predilection for singing songs about himself and the challenges of being Hank Sr.'s son. Hank Williams Jr. still occasionally puts out interesting material -- 2002's Almeria Club Recordings is a fine amalgam of country and blues. But mostly his output for the past three decades is forgettable good ol' boy stuff.

Maybe Hank Sr. would have faced a similar decline had he survived into his 30s and beyond. Or maybe it's a trinomial jinx. The offspring who have followed in the footsteps of Hank Williams Jr. -- Hank III and Holly Williams -- perform with only one space in their names and have put out great music.

Trinomials: Tony Joe White

Tony Joe White: Did Somebody Make A Fool Out Of You?
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You take another shot, but the bourbon has no taste anymore and sure as shit ain't keeping the cold out.  The cluttered, empty room's a mess but you'll be damned if you touch a thing.  A toast, then: to endings.  At least you know where you are with them.  Beginnings are more obtuse: you'll never guess which road they're gonna take you down, sometimes not even while you're walking them.  Endings are concrete.  You can count on them.  So why is it so damn cold?

To endings, then.  And to hope: the hope that you're through with beginnings.  A voice in your head tells you this will pass.  One more ending.  Because you know where you are with endings: at the beginning.  The sun will come out and the cold will be gone.  But not tonight.  You take another shot, and damn if the bourbon doesn't taste just fine.

Trinomials: Andy Fairweather Low

Andy Fairweather Low : Dancing In The Dark

[Purchase]

Welsh guitar wizard Andy Fairweather Low is one of the great Zeligs of British Rock And Roll and apparently not a bad tennis player either. Andy has played with just about everybody--from Eric Clapton on his seven million selling Unplugged album to Roger Waters on his 2007 Dark Side of the Moon Tour. Then there's Jimi Hendrix, Elton John, George Harrison, Gerry Rafferty and hundreds more.

Andy came to fame as lead vocalist ( somewhat Sting like) and teen pin-up with the pop band Amen Corner and hit #1 in 1969 with a song called "(If Paradise Is)" Half As Nice".  When Amen Corner split Andy retired for a few years before returning with his 1974 album Spider Jiving, featuring his wah wah driven Top 10 hit "Reggae Tune". From that album we present "Dancing In The Dark" a song championed as "slyly hermeneutic" by critic Robert Christgau. Nearly 40 years later, I don't know what Christgau means by that.

There's still no quit in Mr Low ( and not much in the way of hair these days). He still tours as a solo artist and just last year contributed vocals to a Kate Bush album.

Trinomials: June Carter Cash

June Carter Cash (and Johnny Cash): Jackson

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June Carter Cash’s success story actually began two years before she was even born. It was a hot day in August 1927 when two women and a man (A.P. Carter, his wife Sara, and her cousin Maybelle) appeared at the New York studio door of a big-time talent scout for Victor Records. To audition, they’d spent the entire day before driving an old Model A Ford down mountain roads from the small hamlet of Bristol on the Virginia/Tennessee state line. Three flat tires later, they’d “arrived” in the big city. Impressed by their emotion, rusticity, charm and soul, Victor Records launched their career. It wasn’t long before The Carter Family’s music was playing from radios across the U.S. As country music hadn’t even been named yet, Victor simply called its brand “Old-Time Melodies of the Sunny South.”            

Maybelle gave birth to June in 1929, and by 1939 she was appearing on the radio too, playing autoharp and guitar. In fact, all three of Maybelle’s children would sing together as an act. At the time, June didn’t really want to sing, and her mother wasn’t even sure if she could carry a tune. Maybelle told the ten-year-old, “If you’re gonna be on the world’s largest radio station with us, we’ll need some kind of miracle.” The dream materialized, and all the kids found parts on the show that always opened with the upbeat theme song, “Keep on the Sunny Side.”    

The 2-disc album (linked above) comes with a hard cover CD book full of liner notes, historical perspectives, song credits and photographs. After the opening theme, we hear ten-year-old June Carter singing “Oh! Susannah” in 1939. The 1949 cut of “Root Hog or Die” includes her trademark “growl,” and her comic routines until 1948 as Aunt Polly might’ve even included buck-dancing. Onstage, she simply became “Little Junie Carter” when they came to the Grand Ole Opry in 1950.

Just from her tone and inflection, it's readily apparent that June was a good-time fun-loving gal who always kept on the sunny side of life. Although a true entertainer, her success was slow in coming in an era when female vocalists were more of a novelty in country music. June's various antics and hillbilly humor became part of her act presumably as a result of her own lack of self-confidence as a vocalist. After she and Carl Smith divorced in 1956, she studied acting in New York. In 1961, Johnny Cash invited Maybelle and the Carter Sisters to tour with him. June co-authored “Ring of Fire” with Johnny Cash. June and Johnny married in 1968. “Jackson” and “If I Were a Carpenter” both became top 40 hits for them. They toured widely and had a highly-rated television show in the late 1960s and 70s.

June Carter Cash’s music developed with experience, maturity, comedic verve and dramatic aptitude. She also never forgot her mountain soul and roots. She put out a successful album in 1999 called “Press On.” Shortly after she finished recording the album “Wildwood Flower,” June Carter Cash died on May 15, 2003. Check out the 2-CD compilation as a documentation of “her life in music.” Earl Scruggs once stated, “She was always full of energy and a really great show-gal.” And as Johnny Cash once said, “June’s work will live on and on.”

Trinomials: Mary Lou Lord

Mary Lou Lord: I Figured You Out

[purchase]

Mary Lou Lord's rise to semi-fame in the Boston-based grunge scene of the mid-nineties never flagged as high as Juliana Hatfield or the Lemonheads, other-coast Kill Rock Stars labelmates Sleater-Kinney and The Decemberists, or other of her performing peers from that era, but she's always been my favorite anti-folker, whose coverage of Richard Thompson and Shawn Colvin finds periodic placement on my coverblog. This song is not technically a cover, but it is an Elliott Smith composition, one which he decided not to record himself; its bitter cynicism reflects the lyrical sensibility they shared, and her shattered innocence is perfect for the part, even as the strum and production call directly to his studio work.

Hers may nonetheless be a well-recognized name in the indie world, in no small part for collaborations with doomed musicians Kurt Cobain and Smith himself, for her inclusion on several mid-nineties covers albums paying tribute to John Lennon, Van Halen, and Saturday Morning Cartoons, and for the use of her Daniel Johnston cover in a Target ad campaign. But to me, this particular trinomial will always be the girl in the Park St. Station, her delicate busker's voice and gentle punk rocker's attitude echoing through the brick caverns as the trains rush through.

Trinomials: Mahavishnu John McLaughlin

Mahavishnu John McLaughlin: Desert Song
[purchase]

There might have been something in my subconscious that directed me towards my choice this week, but it wasn’t until I had gotten a start on this by ripping the song from the CD that the association hit me; I had already made my decision to bring you something from Mahvishnu John McLaughlin. You see, we are about a week away from the close of the academic year, and although I have a handful of his albums, I was converting track 4 from “School Days” to mp3 format.

School Days is Stanley Clarke’s fourth, a “solo” album that came out in 1976. Track 4 is called Desert Song. Here, we’ve got Stanley Clarke playing a stand-up bass and John McLaughlin (he’s known both by his two-name and three-name appellation) on acoustic guitar. The album (CD) credits list a collection of string personnel, so I’m not sure who it is playing with them. But the album is one of my all-time favorites, partly because it was the first time I had ever heard the innovative slap-style and fretless bass and partly because this was jazz that was funky.

The guitar work, since the focus is on the musician with the three names, is typical “Mahavishnu” from this period: mystic and Eastern. Clarke and McLaughlin complement each other well – in energy and speed. At about 3.20 into the song, you can hear McLaughlin take his solo. It sounds like his guitar is at once a Western and an Eastern instrument.

In the early 70s McLaughlin took Sri Chinmoy as his guru as well as adding the spiritual name given to him by Sri Chinmoy as part of his name.  “Maha” is a prefix that exists in several languages, including Turkish as well as Hindi, and it means “great”, ie: Great Vishnu. McLaughlin introduced Carlos Santana to Sri Chinmoy, whence he got the third name he, too, used for a number years in the 70s until he broke with the guru: “Devadip” Carlos Santana. In 1973, the two of them put out the album Love Devotion Surrender that shows the influence of Sri Chinmoy on their work.

Trinomials: William Elliott Whitmore

William Elliott Whitmore: One Man’s Shame
[purchase]

For some members of my family, November 12, 2006 is an almost legendary date. On that day, I took my then 16 year old son to a show at the Bowery Ballroom in lower Manhattan. He had been jealous of the fact that I had been to some great shows there, but they were all 18 and over shows, so he couldn’t come. I saw that the Bowery Ballroom was having a 16 and over show on that November night, a Sunday, featuring Lucero, a band from which I had heard maybe one or two songs, with two openers, William Elliott Whitmore and Rocky Votolato, about whom I was completely ignorant. But I got tickets and we went. It was an incredible show, notwithstanding that my wife, trying to display good parenting, called me and insisted that we leave early because it was a school night for my son, meaning that we missed Lucero’s encore. I’m pretty much over that. Really.

Since then, Lucero has become one of my (and my son’s) favorite bands, and Rocky Votolato has become one of his real favorites (he actually won Rocky’s guitar in a contest and has met him a couple of times at shows), but that night I was truly struck by William Elliott Whitmore.

Whitmore is a young guy who sounds like an old guy. He has a deep, weary voice that is accurately described by Allmusic as sounding “like the reincarnation of an old gospel preacher from the 1920s” and “the one Tom Waits has been after for years”. It is distinctive, memorable and, to me, irresistible. He is from, and still lives in, southeastern Iowa and often writes songs set in that area, steeped in death, sin and redemption. Generally, he performs with a banjo, that he often strums more like a guitar, or a guitar (that he also strums like a guitar). Percussion is supplied by his stamping feet or his hand hitting the banjo or guitar. I found his performance on that November night to be enthralling and am disappointed that I haven’t been able to see him again since.

I had trouble deciding what Whitmore song to pick, so first I decided that it would be a song from Song of the Blackbird, which was released a few months before the Bowery Ballroom show, and then this one jumped out at me. It has a feeling of dread and fear, speaks of death, faith and violence, and it is mesmerizing.

Regional Music: Gogom Ghimili Machuka

Iveroni: Gogom Ghimili Machuka

[purchase]

The Republic of Georgia was in the headlines in 2008, and it wasn't in regards to their music. An album from Iveroni arrived in my mailbox at the very same time that Russia was aggressively invading the small, independent, pro-Western democracy to subordinate it and remove its freely elected President. I immediately put on the album and said a prayer for the refugees who were being forced to flee from their homes in the South Ossetia and Abkhazia regions.

Regardless of the tense situation in their homeland, Iveroni is a group of five young talented musicians (Roman Lashkhia, Gieorgi Chikovani, Davit Batiashvili, Davit Gogitishivili, Beka Tcertcvadze). Their instruments are the panduri, bass panduri, salamuri, and changuri. Their traditional songs emphasize vocals, and they relate stories of love, heroism, and brotherhood. Producer Nathaniel Berndt traveled to the old city of Tblisi to record Iveroni on location. Their album includes 26 different tracks that range in length from one to three minutes each. Additional liner notes would've been nice to explain more about this group, their music and traditional songs. I don’t know what the song “Gogom Ghimili Machuka” is about, but I like its mixture of vocals and instrumentation. And don’t these four guys look cool in those outfits with those Russian dirks and kindjal daggers at their side!

Back in 2008, the war with Russia left Georgia's countryside scorched by bombs and tank fire, and I wonder if Iveroni has songs that would be appropriate in such a circumstance. The war most likely put a damper on their performances. I hope that they are back out singing them now that peace has been restored to the Caucasus Mountains and Russian forces have withdrawn.

Regional Music: Loveless Love

The Feelies : Loveless Love

[Purchase]

Just across the river from New York City lies a small city just two square miles in size but with a musical heritage that rivals some of the biggest metropolitan areas in the US of A. Hoboken, New Jersey--the city where Elia Kazan shot Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint in On The Waterfront--is the birthplace of both Frank Sinatra and the polyrhythmic guitar raves of great 80's bands beginning with The Feelies and including The Bongos, The Cucumbers, The Individuals, The dB's and , of course, Yo La Tengo. They all played at Maxwell's, a dark club that can hold no more than 200 people. 

In his book Big Day Coming: Yo La Tengo And The Rise of Indie Rock, writer Jesse Jarnow says Maxwell's owner Steve Fallon really nurtured the Hoboken Sound. He gave The Bongos a place to rehearse and gave Yo La Tengo's Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley jobs ( as sound man and DJ respectably). Fallon has since sold the club but Maxwell's is still going strong and there is still a thriving indie rock scene in Hoboken.

Regional Music: Amairam

Malam Maman Barka: Amairam

[purchase]

From southeastern Niger, Malam Maman Barka is a teacher, musician and poet. Barka has been performing on his 2-stringed gurumi for over 20 years. The gurumi's body is a calabash shell, and its skin head comes from an iguana. While his music is deeply rooted in the traditions of the Hausa civilization, Barka has composed over 250 new pieces that document life experiences, address contemporary issues, build bridges across cultures, make political statements, and provide optimistic direction to deal with life's struggles. It's understandable how Malam Barka's captivating vocals and intriguing gurumi have built him a strong fan base among Nigerians.

While the musical ambassador has traveled internationally, this is his first album to be released outside of Niger. Accompanied by percussionist Oumarou Adamou on douma and kalongu, Barka's music is being disseminated through the efforts of the album's producer Nathaniel Berndt who collected these field recordings on location for our education and enjoyment. I may not be able to speak or understand Barka's language, but I appreciate what he's trying to accomplish as a contemporary African bard.

With the song “Amairam,” Barka is singing an ode to a woman who is “very beautiful, beautiful like a gazelle” (from the translation offered at www.beautysaloonmusic.com). The song has many beautiful and heartfelt sentiments, but the recurring theme may be best expressed as follows:

Amairam respects me,
Amairam is respectful,
Come next to me with your smile,
Come next to me with your laugh,
You have taken my spirit
Friend Amairam, darling Amairam, for the love of God trust in me

Regional Music: Gothenburg

Maia Hirasawa: Gothenburg
[purchase]

Ten years ago this week, I lost my grandfather.  It wasn't a shock as he had been ill for some time, but having looked after him for a good few years the aftermath of his passing and the nasty physical minutiae of having to sort through his affairs and possessions found me oddly rudderless.  Over thirty but still living like a first-year undergraduate, staggering from work to pub to off-license and then home again to the house in less-than-sunny Harringay that I shared with friends.  Lather, rinse, repeat - and if I felt any pang of regret or doubt at the aimlessness of it all it didn't last long, especially if my housemate was mixing one of his magic G&Ts.

As I write these words, I can hear my two elder children outside.  They are arguing over the correct deployment of a hula-hoop.  The sunlight, refracted through the leaves both in-and-outside the window, dapples the walls with faint, apt, reminders of yellow and green.  This is no idyll - the baby is screaming and the hula discussion will escalate into war at any second, but it's bliss.  And I owe it to Gothenburg, a city that had it been suggested to me a decade ago that I would choose to visit, let alone emigrate to, would have elicited a shrug at best.

But there's magic to this town, to this country.  I know most miss it, but then that's often the case.  Our eyes can't always see the light to which they are most acclimatised.  I should be thankful for that, at least, otherwise Gothenburg couldn't have given me someone to love, to lead me back here.  In the corner of the room, I see an old ghost smiling.  From the hallway I hear the sound of a hula hoop clattering off a hard object, possibly a cranium.  I hear the sun is shining in London today, but I don't care.  Gothenburg, I really owe you.

Regional Music: Istanbul's Dolapdere Big Gang

Dolapdere Big Gang: Another Day in Paradise
[purchase]

Turkey – Istanbul in particular – deserves its name as a crossroads of cultures. Half of the city is in Europe, the other half in Asia. And while it isn’t the political capital of the country, it is the cultural and economic center. Noted as one of the coolest cities in the world several years ago, it certainly has a lively music scene. (Madonna was on stage a few blocks away from me a few days ago)

Traditional Turkish music is based on a different style of music than what we listen to – nay –what we in the West can count the beats to: time signatures of 5/8, 7/8, 9/8 and so on. Believe me, if you didn't grow up with it, you can’t keep time. Turkish music also uses a different scale. Whereas western music typically uses a scale of 7 notes (ABCDEFG - well... add a few more with sharps and flats), the Turkish musical scale uses notes that are half-way between (for example half way between B and B-flat).

Combining East and West gives rise to some creative/curious mixtures and the convergence of East and West certainly colors the current Turkish music scene. About 5 years ago, I learned about a musician named Mercan Dede, who fuses East and West: a month later, I saw him perform in Seattle. Of course, two prominent Turks made their mark on music we in the west are familiar with: Arif Mardin (Atlantic records) and Ahmet Ertegun. There are several other examples (MFO, Sezen Aksu, Tarkan..)

About 4 years ago (2008) I was partially responsible for bringing to our stage a band that produced one of these East/West combinations. Their music was an Eastern interpretation of Western songs. Like most of the tracks on "Just Feel" (yes, the title is in English) in the link above, you’ll hear local instruments: among them notably the “kanun”, a version of the autoharp and the common use of the clarinet as the song resolves to a more recognizable format. Unfortunately, the band has not made the international splash I thought they might: personally I love the mélange and thought for sure that their music was destined for international recognition.

The Age of Aquarius --> Regional Music: Life During Wartime

Talking Heads: Life During Wartime
[purchase]

I just finished reading a great book, Love Goes To Buildings On Fire by Will Hermes [purchase], which is about the “regional music” being made in New York City in the mid-1970’s. By that time, much of the optimism of the Age of Aquarius had been turned into pessimism brought on by Watergate and economic crises (particularly the oil crisis). New York is kind of a big region, and Hermes’ book details the many different kinds of music that were being made, improved and cross-pollinated in the city during this time, including rap, disco, minimalism, avant-garde jazz, salsa and, closest to my heart, punk. So the region that I am focusing on here is Lower Manhattan, the nearest thing to the birthplace of punk.

At this time, New York was at maybe its lowest point since, maybe, the British occupation during the Revolutionary War. A vicious cycle of budget and service cuts resulted in increased crime and drug use. The infrastructure was falling apart, which led to cheap housing and performance spaces. The city was on the verge of bankruptcy and the Daily News ran its famous headline, “Ford to City: Drop Dead.” In 1977 there was a huge blackout, followed by widespread looting and crime. I suspect that most readers of this blog are aware of the bands and clubs, both famous and not, that arose from New York during this period, so I won’t waste your time, or expose myself to criticism for leaving out your favorite band, by listing them here.

I graduated from high school in the New York suburbs in 1978 and started college in central New Jersey that fall. My musical tastes at that time were, as careful readers of my posts well know, geared more toward Genesis, Led Zeppelin and Jefferson Airplane/Starship. But I started to become aware of “New Wave” music that was beginning to get played on the radio, such as Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson. I’m sure that I had heard Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” and “Take Me To The River,” but I don’t recall much specifically about them.

So, I’m a freshman in college, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and two concerts are announced—Bruce Springsteen at the big gym on Monday, November 1, 1978, and Talking Heads, at a smaller auditorium the Friday before. I get tickets to Springsteen, which was an incredible show, and decide to pass on the Talking Heads. This is probably my life’s biggest musical regret. But, to be fair, I wasn’t that into them yet and my friends weren’t into them (remember, I’d been at college less than two months, and I was still figuring out my friends’ names, much less being aware if they liked the Talking Heads). I hear it was a great show. (Grrrrr.)

Second semester, I start working at WPRB and begin to immerse myself in the new music that I soon become to love. At some point, I finally “get” The Ramones. And in the fall of 1979, when I return to WPRB, I get to play songs from Fear of Music, which had been released during the summer. One of my favorites is “Life During Wartime,” which encapsulates the paranoia and craziness of living in New York, especially the Lower East Side, during that era. David Byrne has said that the song was written in his loft in that part of the city and that it is about living in Alphabet City, a tough part of downtown. In probably its most famous line, the song name checks two of the most prominent downtown punk clubs, CBGB’s and The Mudd Club. Further, in keeping with one of the themes of the Hermes book—that New York music was full of stylistic cross-pollination—it is a rock song influenced by disco, and produced by Brian Eno, whose own musical influences were myriad.

The Age of Aquarius: Revolution

Gerry Colvin: Revolution
[it's a creative commons download]

I am writing/posting once again about The Age of Aquarius at this late time just before we move on to a new theme because I felt we haven’t done justice to the topic: if it weren’t for the hippies and their “peace/love” message, we wouldn’t be where we are. Women’s Lib, a better sense of our stewardship of Earth, respect for diversity… would all be further back in our awareness. The Age of Aquarius was a revolution. As boyhowdy put it in an email to me this week “we’re all hippies”. And he’s right (although he was referring to my long hair in the 70s).

Pre-Aquarius music and culture may have flown in the face of previous standards: Elvis’ pelvis, the irreverence of the jitterbug and all that WWII spawned in terms of societal mores. And while it probably set the stage for us hippies, it took the 60s to bring it to fruition. It could have faded like some other fashions. But it didn’t – because, at heart, it was right.

It’s a matter of historical record that has been well researched and documented, and I am far from being an authority about how it all transpired. From what I know, however, in and around 1967, the Beatles’ music changed from the era’s standard 3 minute “Top 10” pop format (Love Me Do) to something different. That’s the year they released both Sgt. Peppers and Magical Mystery Tour. That is also about the time they began exploring different philosophies (think guru from India). But this was the 60s.

Roger Greenawalt and crew (from where this song comes) do a remarkable job of disseminating Creative Commons versions of Beatles songs that include embedded insightful textual comments detailing the conditions and history of the times. The background research is informative – to say the least. The Beatles Complete on Ukulele has almost 150 freely downloadable Beatles tunes.

The song I choose here should speak for itself.  If you don’t see the embedded textual notes (not visible in the default Yahoo player) download the file and play it in Media Player, where you can. Above all, head to the Beatles Complete on Ukulele project web site and grab all 100+ tunes.

The Age of Aquarius: Okie from Muskogee

Merle Haggard: Okie from Muskogee

[purchase]

No compilation of hippie music is complete without acknowledging its counterpart, the anti-hippie song. And no song better embodies the counter-counter-culture than Merle Haggard's "Okie from Muskogee."

Haggard released the song twice in 1969 (as a studio recording and again as a live record), at the height of the anti-war protests. Its lyrics take a broad swipe at the hippie ethos. "We don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee," Haggard boasts in the song's opening salvo. "We don't let our hair grow long and shaggy...Leather boots are still in style for manly footwear...The kids here still respect the college dean."

There's a lingering question as to whether Haggard subscribed to the song's philosophy. It's easy to assume he was being sincere; listen to the introduction he gives the song on his landmark Okie from Muskogee Live record. "Okie" is one of several songs Haggard wrote and recorded at the time tweaking the counter-culture ("Fightin' Side of Me", "Working Man Blues"). And he didn't squawk when Richard Nixon endorsed the song and used it at political rallies.

But, in many interviews over the past two decades, Haggard has claimed he meant "Okie" to be a character study or satire. For example, in an interview with the A.V. Club website, Haggard says the song is merely "documentation of the uneducated that lived in America at the time." In another interview cited by Tom Roland in the book Number One Country Hits, Haggard says, "I didn't intend for 'Okie' to be taken as strongly from my lips as it was." And certainly, Haggard has written many songs that could be considered to be left of center, including Steinbeck-esque portraits of economic injustice in California, where he grew up.

"I always thought everybody got 'Okie from Muskogee' wrong," Bob Dylan told Rolling Stone in a profile of Haggard. "It's one of the funniest satires ever. If Randy Newman had written it, nobody would have thought twice."

Maybe. I suspect that while Haggard may not have fully sympathized with the song's sentiment, he meant for it to appeal to people who aligned themselves with its philosophy. As his politics changed -- and as he came to be recognized by the mainstream music press as one of the finest writers in the history of country music (an assessment I whole-heartedly agree with) -- Hag began engaging in a bit of revisionist history.

Kris Kristofferson, who for years satirized "Okie from Muskogee" in his live act, offers one of the best assessments of the song, suggesting it could be a kind of hippie anthem after all. He told Rolling Stone: "I remember saying...'Maybe that's the only bad song he ever wrote.' I was wrong. That song is saying 'I'm proud to be an Okie from Muskogee.' Coming from his background in California, that's like saying I'm black and I'm proud."

The Age of Aquarius: Get Together

The Youngbloods: Get Together

[purchase]

Talk about a period piece. It's hard to imagine "Get Together" making a mark in any era but the groovy 1960s. "Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now." Those lyrics couldn't be sung in earnest by Sinatra in the 1940s or the Black Eyed Peas today.

In fact, the song predates the hippie movement a bit. It was written by Dino Valenti (later of Quicksilver Messenger Service) in 1960. In the mid-60s, various folkies and rockers took a stab at the song, including Judy Collins, Jefferson Airplane and the Kingston Trio. When the Youngbloods -- led by Jesse Colin Young -- first released the song in 1967, it was not an immediate hit. Two years after its initial release, "Get Together" was used as the soundtrack to a public service announcement, produced by the National Conference of Christians and Jews, advocating for peace, love and understanding. (Ah, the '60s!) The Youngbloods' recording was re-released and became a top 5 hit. "From then on," writes Brian Boone in his book I Love Rock and Roll (Except When I Hate It), "it became an iconic flower-child anthem, mostly after the fact, popping up in countless '60s documentaries, '60s-set movies, Boomer-targeted soda commercials and what felt like every other episode of China Beach."

The Age Of Aquarius: Vi Har Bara Varandra

Di Leva: Vi Har Bara Varandra
[purchase]

Funny thing about hippies: they tend to be right.  Oh sure, it's easy to sneer at the earnestness and positivity: after all, sneering is just what we do.  They're so naive.  And those clothes! They probably don't wash!  I'll bet they smell bad...  So we joke and belittle, look down our noses and snort, because we're just so much worldlier than them.  But deep down we know: they're right.

You see, the world would be a better place without hatred and war.  The love of one another and the planet we appear to be trying so hard to ruin may well be the only thing that can pull us all back from the brink.  These ideas aren't really open to debate, but we debate them anyway because that's the only way we can think of to justify our cavalier behaviour.  We're angry people, and we reserve the right not to want to move beyond that anger in order to try to find some positivity in amongst all the gloom and grime.

So it is that here in Sweden, Thomas Di Leva is something of a punchline.  Resolutely hippy, happy in the childlike persona he wears like a comfortable kaftan, he sings about how all we have is each other and how everything is interconnected, and everyone snickers.  Then they join in and sing along.  And perhaps, just perhaps, the joke is on us because in that brief moment that catches us roaring along with the ridiculous, infectious chorus, we might understand the gleam in Di Leva's eye, and the fact that he made believers out of cynical-old us, however fleetingly.

As someone else once sang, Immerse your soul in love.  After all, we only have each other.

The Age of Aquarius: Fresh Air

Quicksilver Messenger Service: Fresh Air
[purchase]

In the late 1960’s, Quicksilver Messenger Service was a popular Bay Area band, but it has been overshadowed by its more successful contemporaries like The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin and Santana. According to some accounts, the group was to be led by Dino Valenti, who wrote the song “Get Together” (under his birth name, Chet Powers). Unfortunately, before they really got going, Valenti spent almost two years in jail on marijuana possession charges. Instead, the band included David Freiberg, who later was a member of Jefferson Starship, guitarist John Cipollina, and guitarist and singer Gary Duncan, among others. For their fourth album, Just for Love, Valenti finally joined the fold, wrote most of the songs (this time under the name Jesse Oris Farrow), and their sound became more pop oriented.

“Fresh Air,” the single from the album, is Quicksilver’s biggest hit, reaching 49 on the Billboard chart. The song has a nice jam band feel to it, Marty Balin-esque vocals, good harmonies, a great Santanaish guitar solo from Cipollina and a piano solo from Nicky Hopkins, the great session musician, who was a member of the band at the time.

In the song, the singer tells a woman to “have another hit” of:

Sweet air;
Fresh air;
Sweet love; and
Sweet California sunshine

What I think he really is telling her to “have another hit” of:

Marijuana.

I could be wrong, but it was 1970, and considering the musicians involved, I’m going to go with that.

The Age of Aquarius: Do What You Like

Blind Faith: Do What You Like
[purchase]

I happened to be in Seattle in the summer of 69, and although I was just barely a teen (14 counts, doesn’t it?), my parents gave me and my younger brother permission to see Blind Faith. We got mugged on the way back home after the concert, but that’s another story and that was in the days before “terror” carried the meaning it does today.

Like so many others, including boyhowdy, my brother and I wore our hair long. Mine being thin (in more ways than one), I wore it tied back; his was even longer, kind of a cross between Tiny Tim’s and Ginger Baker’s. I kept mine long until I took a full time job after college.

I was schooled in a co-ed boarding school in the Philly area in the early 70s. Although it is a little bit of a stretch to say I was a hippie, there were forays into the culture – to the extent that circumstances allowed (maintaining a passing gpa, staying on the tennis team…). The school was bordered on one side by a river called the Neshaminy, and there were times that we would leave our clothes on the school-side riverbank and cavort nekkid in the field/woods on the other side for an afternoon’s fun. All very “Hair” even if we were only teens.

Do What You Like, from the only album Blind Faith made (the band came together in early 69 and disbanded in late 69), has lyrics that espouse the mentality of the hippy lifestyle:

Do right, use your head (one wonders exactly how)

Get together, break your bread… (peace, man)

The song also has the prerequisite extended jam that the hippie generation loved: nigh on 15 minutes of it, and it ends in a rather spacey ramble of notes.

The Age of Aquarius: Almost Cut My Hair

Crosby, Stills, and Nash: Almost Cut My Hair

[purchase]

Yes, that's me up there, in 2002: prep school teacher, daddy, and long haired hippie freak. Though I've never identified as terribly liberal or hippie-ish, I managed to avoid cutting my hair from the middle of high school; by the time I turned thirty, I could sit on it. The stories that this brought about are numerous, and include multiple old ladies stroking my head without asking first, a long-standing reputation as one of the "cool teachers" on the faculty, and a long tense standoff with the well-intentioned folks at the Amsterdam airport, who seemed convinced that anyone who looked like one of the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers was surely trying to smuggle hash back into the United States.

I swear, I only cut it because the changing table was higher than my hair hung down. That, and the sheer weight was starting to cause serious back and neck problems.

David Crosby's freak anthem, written and recorded in the midst of some pretty heavy drug use, has been recorded several times by Crosby and company, but I've always liked the long-form take above, recorded in 1970 but not released until 1991. It was played multiple times to welcome me to parties, in my long and misbegotten youth.

In my defense, I liked having long hair. The way it functioned as a bullshit detector for people carrying the weight of stereotype, and the way it lowered expectations from the universe, leaving room to impress, were a shield against the world as I learned to become a late-blooming adult. Unfortunately, I have no such excuse for the hemp necklace, nor the patchouli vial which hangs suspended from it, which you can see in the picture above.