Sgt. Pepper Vs. Across the Universe
In 1978, the movie “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” hit the screens. I’m sure to the movie world, mixing the music of the Beatles with cream of the crop music stars. The movie was a campy romp featuring Sgt. Pepper’s band made up of Peter Frampton, recently made recognizable world wide by his monster biggest selling live album of all time and the reborn Bee Gees, riding the wave of disco mania with their “Nights On Broadway” LP and featured songs in “Saturday Night Fever.” A miracle mad in Hollywood!
Trouble was, it was too slick. A lot of we die hard rock fans, who had a great distain for disco saw the Bee Gees as sellouts. From great tunes like “How Can You mend a Broken Heart” and “I Stared a Joke” to ear splitting high pitched “Nights on Broadway.” Wailing to a soulless disco beat meant not for hearing, but for dancing. While rock always had a certain dance element to it, there was also the underlying rebellious nature of it that seemed pasteurized and homogenized by the disco movement.
Peter Frampton the young prodigy guitarist who played his way to early fame as a guitarist for British rock-Blues band, Humble Pie, had scored big with a masterful solo album, “Frampton.” He followed it with the “Frampton Comes Alive” tour and then dipped his feet into the disco world with the album “I’m In You.” That album and single left his admirers wondering “where did the guitar god go?”
The movie paired the 3 Bee Gees and Frampton as Sgt. Pepper’s band, dressed in slick, shiny disco style marching band uniforms. The cast was rounded out by a few rockers, like Aerosmith, who snarled a decent version of “Come Together,” Alice Cooper and a cameo by Beatle collaborator Billy Preston. More campy roles were filled by Steve Martin, George Burns and a cute blonde Strawberry Fields.
I refused to see it. I couldn’t make myself go to the movie and see Beatles music sung by the enemy. And I didn’t. It was a few years till I finally gave in and watched it on cable TV. I decided I had been right the first time. It was embarrassing. I can’t imagine it did the careers of Frampton or the Bee Gees any good.
Other people tried Beatle songs in their movies over the years, some with success and others a complete failure. A bizarre vision called “All This and World War II” had been released 2 years before “Sgt. Pepper.” It combined film footage of WW II with Beatle songs performed by a collection of artists covering the Beatles. The point of this movie still baffles people. Images of Adolph Hitler at the Eagles Nest while Helen Reddy sang “Fool on the Hill?” All I can think is that someone had a lot of extra money and cheap drugs available. That film defined bizarre and I am sure made the Apple Corps nervous about the use of other Beatles tunes.
Other flicks came and went including a few about kids trying to get into see the Beatles at the 1964 Ed Sullivan broadcast. But the best use of that period was probably the “Ferris Bueller’s day Off” movie of 1986, where th4e lovable Ferris lip-synchs the Beatles version of the old tune “Twist and Shout.” A true highlight moment of that film.
In the succeeding years, Beatle fans watched as Michael Jackson purchased the rights to Beatle songs out from under McCartney and Lennon’s wife Yoko. He licensed them out to a variety of companies to the great distress of the surviving Beatles. There were lawsuits to prevent the actual use of the Beatle performances in commercials.
Finally, in 2001, a movie, which seemed to use the Beatle tunes in an uplifting and sympathetic role found it’s way on to the screen starring Sean Penn as a ‘special’ father called “I Am Sam.” The artists who covered the tunes for that movie made endearing and listenable versions of the beloved tunes. Even the movie ”Pleasantville” featured a surprisingly decent version of “Across the Universe” by Fiona Apple in ‘98.
When I saw the first movie ads for “Across The Universe,” I was instantly energized with hope. The clips contained bits of psychedelia and were voiced by mostly unknown actors. The music leaped from the screen like a familiar friend with a new hairdo. I waited in anticipation for what I hoped would be a gem among so many other pieces of Fool’s Gold.
I was not disappointed. From the first haunting strains of “Girl” sung mournfully by Jude at the seashore, I was entranced. Director Julie Taymor’s vision, like a message form the gods of rock, glittered across the screen in a sequence of 60’s era happenings. The Beatles’ music, not adapted to World War II, or scripted loosely in a fantasy play of the Sgt.’s band, but as a soundtrack for the era from which it was born.
Songs were given new meaning in the screenplay, and characters named for one-time ghosts form the lyrics of the Fab Four such as Jude, Max, Lucy and Prudence. The story chronicles the journey of a Paul McCartney looking Englishman named Jude as he arrives in the states and slowly becomes part of the New York counter culture of the 60’s. Vietnam and protests, race riots and concerts, and even a Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix look-a-like fill in the roles that made the movie more than just a music video.
I was left speechless by the Joe Cocker chameleon cameos as a street person, a pimp and longhaired street preacher as he wailed through a funky version of “Come Together.” Bono as the mind expansion guru Dr. Roberts gave memorable jaunts through “I Am The Walrus” and “Lucy IN The Sky With Diamonds.”
One of the most beautiful moments of the film occurs in wind swept fields as the gang, lying on their backs, sings a haunting version of “Because.” It brought tears to my eyes. I always felt cheated because that was something so amazing that I could never hope to do. So close to the original, where 4 young guys from the working class city of Liverpool managed to make sounds like angels. Amazing.
And in the end, broken hearts and war torn souls are renewed with a “Let It Be” Beatlesque rooftop performance by Sadie and gang. They , faithful to the Beatles, sang the same song the Beatles had used to start their final performance as a 4 man band from that rooftop above Apple headquarters at 3 Saviile Row in 1969; “Don’t Let Me Down.” Jude, in search of his lost love Lucy, makes his way to the roof to begin a soft acapella “All You Need Is Love” that transforms into a victorious statement that, “yes, All You Do Need Is Love.”
Jim Sturgess, as Jude, was amazing. Evan Rachel Wood, even though she was dating Marilyn Manson at the time, sang heart-wrenching versions of “Blackbird” and “If I Fell.” Joe Anderson’s Max wailed like Lennon on “Happiness Is A Warm Gun.”
The most poignant of scenes, tying together the tragedy of both the race riots of the 60’s and the loss of young men in Vietnam came with a gospel version of “Let It Be.” The song morphed into a hymn-spiritual sang with amazing depth and emotion at the funeral of a young black boy. The song, written originally by McCartney as a reference to the mother he lost at an early age, seemed to underscore the great loss felt by so many through the years of racial conflict and war torn families.
What can I say? A beautiful and astounding movie. The soundtrack plays nearly as well as the Beatle albums them selves.
I am humbled by the emotion that bubbled form inside me as I watched, listened and shed tears throughout the film.
Jai Guru Deva.. Nothings Gonna Change My World.
beautiful lyrics, but I ahve to say, their music changed my world.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
I Should Have Been a rock Star - Guitar Fest
Eric Clapton Guitar fest
Ashley, the boys and I traveled to Dallas Texas in June of 2004. The event that drew us there was the huge Eric Clapton Guitar Fest at the Cotton Bowl.
From the first moment I saw ads for the 2-day show, I was drooling over the prospect of seeing so many great guitarists all in one place. Some of them, I had seen live before., Some, I was ready to see and hear for the first time.
Ashley has a way of making things happen even when I feel like there’s no money for it, but we did decide that one day of the show was about all we could afford. The show ran on a Friday and Saturday, and the choice was a tough one.
Fletch, who had just finished his junior year of high school, and listened to a lot of classic rock also wanted to see the show. He and I scanned the lineup and decided that the Saturday show was what we would shoot for. Cor and Ashley had big plans on making the most of a hotel stay, swimming and lazing through the day after dropping us at the fairgrounds. They would also retrieve us late that evening, so she could keep the car that whole day.
Our choice of days meant we would miss a few great artists, such as Johnny Lang, Eric Johnson, Robert Cray and the one I missed most, J.J. Cale, who had penned so many tunes I loved. It was a tough choice for us, but the line-up for Saturday promised to be spectacular.
We drove to Dallas the evening before, MapQuest instructions close at hand. I spent a restless night in the hotel, cell alarm set to get up early and be at the gate awaiting the opening.
The day started out hot, warmer than normal for an early June day in Dallas. Of course, the festival allowed no outside drinks, water included, into the Cotton Bowl. I was really kind of shocked at the age of the stadium. It was the site of the yearly football showdown between U. of Texas and the Sooners, so I guess I expected something more on par with what Memorial Stadium in Norman or the stadium at Austin.
We wandered our way to an entrance, following other early morning devotees. It was like a crowd on the way to see the Pope pass by, or devotees of the Dalli Lama. Each, ranging in ages form teens to gray haired rockers in their sixties, all adorned in their personal favorite concert T-shirts. Everyone wore their colors, advertising either the last time they saw Clapton, or any other of the musicians to appear on stage.
“Clapton is God” I had seen splashed over the pages of “The Rolling Stone” in the 70’s. I had no doubt then as he was the man who wailed on “:Layla,” and provided the pounding guitar to “Sunshine of Your Love.” He even played the guitar solo on the Beatles “While MY Guitar Gently weeps.” Clapton was god, and walked in the circles of other rock gods. Who else could command the lineup he had procured for charity? Only George Harrison’s “Concert for Bandla Desh” and Bob Geldoff’s “Live Aid” had come close.
I had seen Clapton one time before. In the late 70’s he played a show in Tulsa, with a band that at that was made up primarily of Tulsa musicians and imitated much of what people referred to as the Tulsa sound. His first solo album had even featured Leon Russell, another Tulsa legend. His band included Tulsan Jamie Oldaker on drums, Tulsa bassist Carl Radle who had also played on the Dominos LP, backup singer Marcy Levy, who had recorded and performed with Leon. In fact, at one point in his frequent trips to Tulsa, Eric had been arrested in the Tulsa Airport for drunk and disorderly conduct after tossing his bags from the top floor to friends below.
The old concert had been fantastic, with Clapton and guitarist George Terry exchanging licks. For the final encore, Clapton was joined by opening act, blues guitarist Freddie King for a blistering guitar battle. That would be King’s last tour, as he would pass away that December from heart failure at the age of 42.
Fletch and I made our way to the front half of the Cotton Bowl floor. It was covered, to protect the turf, but that covering reflected the sun. It promised to be a hot day, with a sweaty and raucous crowd. I told Fletch that because of the h4eat, he might get his wish for a large, outdoor semi-clad ocean of females! The rising temps, as we waited for the opening acts, promised that.
At just about noon, the MC walked to the front of the stage to introduce Neal Shon and Jonathan Cain of Journey. Neal is a great guitarist, who got his start as a young guy playing for Carlos Santana. Cain came to Journey from the Babys. They opened up the show with a tune that Fletch said would be hard for any of the rest of the bands to beat. Schon and Cain played an amazing blistering version of Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child!” It was a greta tribute to Hendrix. The song was later left off the concert DVD. I can only imagine that the Hendrix estate wouldn’t allow it without compensation. I had read they were pretty stingy with Jimi’s tunes.
But, there was no let up in rocking music. Steve Vai an dhis band had a scorched earth policy. They left no survivors. The climax of their set found the entire band at stage front on guitars, each playing the fret board as the other picked. Pretty amazing.
Vai was not someone I ordinarily listened to, but there was no doubt that this guy, whom I knew primarily as the devil’s guitarist from the movie “Crossroads” (not the Brittany Spears same titled flick) played like someone possessed.
We saw Larry Carleton, jazz guitarist who played the lead guitar on Steely dan’s “Peg.” We listened to blues by Jimmy Vaughn, once of the Fabulous Thunderbirds and brother to another guitar legend, Stevie ray Vaughn. Vaugh’s band acted as house band for several of the following acts, including Bo Diddly, Buddy Guy and BB King.
Those blues icons were later joined by John Mayer, who showed he could soar with the eagles, and Clapton in a huge mid jam on the stage. BB seemed unwilling to ever let the jam end, forcing the show behind schedule.
BookerT and the MDG’s palyed and then played behind other rock legends Joe Walsh and Clapton. Walsh, always the clown, as he was when I saw him on a solo tour in the 80’s commented before palying “Rocky Mountain Way,” “If I had known I would have had to play this song so many times, I would have written something else.”
Things mellowed out with Okie product and country star Vince Gill. Vince displayed some fine picking and we saw wife Amy Grant standing just offstage. James Taylor and his smooth voice were joined by Jjerry Douglas on dobro. You can’t help but feel good when Taylor sings.
The day was hot and we drank several expensive bottles of water. The sun beat down and we retreated into the hall of guitars to get a rest from the rays. On the way there, I sighted the first semi-clad female and asked Fletch if this was what he had been waiting for. Unfortunately for my 16 year old, the skimpily dressed woman was older than me and almost as big!
Night fell. Clapton introduced Carlos Santana and the crowd roared. The lights came on to show him beginning the sounds of “Black magic Woman.” Fletch and I, who stood maybe 30 yards from the stage, were suddenly shoved this way and that as crowds of young Hispanics rushed toward the stage. Santana was definitely the highlight of the show for the Hispanic portion of the crowd. After a few songs, Clapton walked on stage to duet with Santana. Spectacular moment.
With time winding down, and a n apparent curfew on sound and lights, Jeff beck made a quick appearance on stage. He and Clapton, both ex-members of the Yardbirds, traded licks to a still standing, but weather beaten crowd.
The weather changed with the darkness and the clouds began to roll overhead. As the stage darkened for the local favorites, ZZ Top, winds whipped at the stage and some drops of rain fell. The plan on the schedule had been for Eric to finish off by playing with the Top, but weather and the curfew forced that guitar duel between Billy Gibbons and Claptoon to await another time.
People know ZZ Top now for their songs like ”Legs” or “sharp Dressed man,” but I have seen them several times early in their career, when Billy would make his guitar whine with the blues. Not any better blues song than his :”Blue jean Blues” from the “Fandango” album. Unfortunately, the LP also contained “Tush,” which was a hit and many later songs imitated that rather than his much better bluesy style.
The show ended, Fletch and I slogged out of the stadium, searching for Ash and Cor and the car.
It had been a spectacular day in guitar heaven.
Fletch and I saw Clapton live again that Fall in OKC. The Randolph family Band opened and he played a fiery set that showed no signs of age.
What guitarist would I still like to see???
Let’s see……
11:50am Neal Schon
12:10pm Steve Vai and his band
12:30pm Sonny Landreth
1:00pm Larry Carlton and his Band
2:00pm John McLaughlin
2:30pm Robert Cray Band
3:00pm Jimmie Vaughan
3:40pm Booker T and the MGs
3:50pm Bo Diddley
4:00pm David Hidalgo
4:30pm Joe Walsh
5:00pm Vince Gill with Jerry Douglas
5:30pm James Taylor and his band
6:00pm Buddy Guy
6:30pm B.B. King
7:00pm Carlos Santana
8:00pm Eric Clapton
9:20pm Jeff Beck with Eric Clapton
9:45pm ZZ Top
Ashley, the boys and I traveled to Dallas Texas in June of 2004. The event that drew us there was the huge Eric Clapton Guitar Fest at the Cotton Bowl.
From the first moment I saw ads for the 2-day show, I was drooling over the prospect of seeing so many great guitarists all in one place. Some of them, I had seen live before., Some, I was ready to see and hear for the first time.
Ashley has a way of making things happen even when I feel like there’s no money for it, but we did decide that one day of the show was about all we could afford. The show ran on a Friday and Saturday, and the choice was a tough one.
Fletch, who had just finished his junior year of high school, and listened to a lot of classic rock also wanted to see the show. He and I scanned the lineup and decided that the Saturday show was what we would shoot for. Cor and Ashley had big plans on making the most of a hotel stay, swimming and lazing through the day after dropping us at the fairgrounds. They would also retrieve us late that evening, so she could keep the car that whole day.
Our choice of days meant we would miss a few great artists, such as Johnny Lang, Eric Johnson, Robert Cray and the one I missed most, J.J. Cale, who had penned so many tunes I loved. It was a tough choice for us, but the line-up for Saturday promised to be spectacular.
We drove to Dallas the evening before, MapQuest instructions close at hand. I spent a restless night in the hotel, cell alarm set to get up early and be at the gate awaiting the opening.
The day started out hot, warmer than normal for an early June day in Dallas. Of course, the festival allowed no outside drinks, water included, into the Cotton Bowl. I was really kind of shocked at the age of the stadium. It was the site of the yearly football showdown between U. of Texas and the Sooners, so I guess I expected something more on par with what Memorial Stadium in Norman or the stadium at Austin.
We wandered our way to an entrance, following other early morning devotees. It was like a crowd on the way to see the Pope pass by, or devotees of the Dalli Lama. Each, ranging in ages form teens to gray haired rockers in their sixties, all adorned in their personal favorite concert T-shirts. Everyone wore their colors, advertising either the last time they saw Clapton, or any other of the musicians to appear on stage.
“Clapton is God” I had seen splashed over the pages of “The Rolling Stone” in the 70’s. I had no doubt then as he was the man who wailed on “:Layla,” and provided the pounding guitar to “Sunshine of Your Love.” He even played the guitar solo on the Beatles “While MY Guitar Gently weeps.” Clapton was god, and walked in the circles of other rock gods. Who else could command the lineup he had procured for charity? Only George Harrison’s “Concert for Bandla Desh” and Bob Geldoff’s “Live Aid” had come close.
I had seen Clapton one time before. In the late 70’s he played a show in Tulsa, with a band that at that was made up primarily of Tulsa musicians and imitated much of what people referred to as the Tulsa sound. His first solo album had even featured Leon Russell, another Tulsa legend. His band included Tulsan Jamie Oldaker on drums, Tulsa bassist Carl Radle who had also played on the Dominos LP, backup singer Marcy Levy, who had recorded and performed with Leon. In fact, at one point in his frequent trips to Tulsa, Eric had been arrested in the Tulsa Airport for drunk and disorderly conduct after tossing his bags from the top floor to friends below.
The old concert had been fantastic, with Clapton and guitarist George Terry exchanging licks. For the final encore, Clapton was joined by opening act, blues guitarist Freddie King for a blistering guitar battle. That would be King’s last tour, as he would pass away that December from heart failure at the age of 42.
Fletch and I made our way to the front half of the Cotton Bowl floor. It was covered, to protect the turf, but that covering reflected the sun. It promised to be a hot day, with a sweaty and raucous crowd. I told Fletch that because of the h4eat, he might get his wish for a large, outdoor semi-clad ocean of females! The rising temps, as we waited for the opening acts, promised that.
At just about noon, the MC walked to the front of the stage to introduce Neal Shon and Jonathan Cain of Journey. Neal is a great guitarist, who got his start as a young guy playing for Carlos Santana. Cain came to Journey from the Babys. They opened up the show with a tune that Fletch said would be hard for any of the rest of the bands to beat. Schon and Cain played an amazing blistering version of Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child!” It was a greta tribute to Hendrix. The song was later left off the concert DVD. I can only imagine that the Hendrix estate wouldn’t allow it without compensation. I had read they were pretty stingy with Jimi’s tunes.
But, there was no let up in rocking music. Steve Vai an dhis band had a scorched earth policy. They left no survivors. The climax of their set found the entire band at stage front on guitars, each playing the fret board as the other picked. Pretty amazing.
Vai was not someone I ordinarily listened to, but there was no doubt that this guy, whom I knew primarily as the devil’s guitarist from the movie “Crossroads” (not the Brittany Spears same titled flick) played like someone possessed.
We saw Larry Carleton, jazz guitarist who played the lead guitar on Steely dan’s “Peg.” We listened to blues by Jimmy Vaughn, once of the Fabulous Thunderbirds and brother to another guitar legend, Stevie ray Vaughn. Vaugh’s band acted as house band for several of the following acts, including Bo Diddly, Buddy Guy and BB King.
Those blues icons were later joined by John Mayer, who showed he could soar with the eagles, and Clapton in a huge mid jam on the stage. BB seemed unwilling to ever let the jam end, forcing the show behind schedule.
BookerT and the MDG’s palyed and then played behind other rock legends Joe Walsh and Clapton. Walsh, always the clown, as he was when I saw him on a solo tour in the 80’s commented before palying “Rocky Mountain Way,” “If I had known I would have had to play this song so many times, I would have written something else.”
Things mellowed out with Okie product and country star Vince Gill. Vince displayed some fine picking and we saw wife Amy Grant standing just offstage. James Taylor and his smooth voice were joined by Jjerry Douglas on dobro. You can’t help but feel good when Taylor sings.
The day was hot and we drank several expensive bottles of water. The sun beat down and we retreated into the hall of guitars to get a rest from the rays. On the way there, I sighted the first semi-clad female and asked Fletch if this was what he had been waiting for. Unfortunately for my 16 year old, the skimpily dressed woman was older than me and almost as big!
Night fell. Clapton introduced Carlos Santana and the crowd roared. The lights came on to show him beginning the sounds of “Black magic Woman.” Fletch and I, who stood maybe 30 yards from the stage, were suddenly shoved this way and that as crowds of young Hispanics rushed toward the stage. Santana was definitely the highlight of the show for the Hispanic portion of the crowd. After a few songs, Clapton walked on stage to duet with Santana. Spectacular moment.
With time winding down, and a n apparent curfew on sound and lights, Jeff beck made a quick appearance on stage. He and Clapton, both ex-members of the Yardbirds, traded licks to a still standing, but weather beaten crowd.
The weather changed with the darkness and the clouds began to roll overhead. As the stage darkened for the local favorites, ZZ Top, winds whipped at the stage and some drops of rain fell. The plan on the schedule had been for Eric to finish off by playing with the Top, but weather and the curfew forced that guitar duel between Billy Gibbons and Claptoon to await another time.
People know ZZ Top now for their songs like ”Legs” or “sharp Dressed man,” but I have seen them several times early in their career, when Billy would make his guitar whine with the blues. Not any better blues song than his :”Blue jean Blues” from the “Fandango” album. Unfortunately, the LP also contained “Tush,” which was a hit and many later songs imitated that rather than his much better bluesy style.
The show ended, Fletch and I slogged out of the stadium, searching for Ash and Cor and the car.
It had been a spectacular day in guitar heaven.
Fletch and I saw Clapton live again that Fall in OKC. The Randolph family Band opened and he played a fiery set that showed no signs of age.
What guitarist would I still like to see???
Let’s see……
11:50am Neal Schon
12:10pm Steve Vai and his band
12:30pm Sonny Landreth
1:00pm Larry Carlton and his Band
2:00pm John McLaughlin
2:30pm Robert Cray Band
3:00pm Jimmie Vaughan
3:40pm Booker T and the MGs
3:50pm Bo Diddley
4:00pm David Hidalgo
4:30pm Joe Walsh
5:00pm Vince Gill with Jerry Douglas
5:30pm James Taylor and his band
6:00pm Buddy Guy
6:30pm B.B. King
7:00pm Carlos Santana
8:00pm Eric Clapton
9:20pm Jeff Beck with Eric Clapton
9:45pm ZZ Top
Sunday, May 24, 2009
I Should Hav e been a Rock Star- Turn Me ON Dead Man
Turn Me ON Dead Man
In the late 70’s, the fear of pop music as a carrier wave for satan once again reared its ugly head in the form of back masking allegations.
Seems like TV preachers and touring circus ministers always needed some gimmick to demonize the music ever since rock and roll crawled from the primal ooze in the 50’s. Even then, some DJs refused to play that Devil Music, even calling people like Elvis evil. I wonder what happened to those people when they saw the heavy metal mayhem of the 70’s and 80’s which co-opted Satan, 666 and the upside down cross for their fiery stage shows.
In the early 80’s, then a new teacher, I had several students come to my classes worried and traumatized by a traveling revival minister that preached on the dangers of rock music and its hidden Satanic messages. He played the crowd clip after clip of songs from the Betakes, Led Zeppelin, Styx, Ozzy and Electric Light Orchestra and then reversed the song in his proof of the great satanic conspiracy to steal the souls of the young through rock music.
He also sold tapes. A lot of tapes. Not only did this minister spread his word through the Love offerings given by the crowds each night, but his soul saving cassette tapes loaded with audio proof of the demonic messages made their way from his daring hands to their s, each eager for evidence of the great conspiracy.
Many of these kids were upset. Some told me that the very evening following the sermon, their parents went home, confiscated their Led Zeppelin LPs and destroyed them. Styx went in to the trash. ELO, Black Sabbath and Judas priest followed. Once again, a fever as great as that in 1965 when John Lennon uttered the words to a reporter that he thought a friend, “We’re more popular than Christ.” Lennon’s words jumped up and bit him on the ass a s radio stations in our country, and teamed with hell and brimstone preachers to organize Beatle record burnings and marches to protest Lennon’s smart ass remark outside the concerts.
That was the comment that led my Dad to tell me “Don’t buy any Beatle albums.” I did. Secretly. And funny enough, a few years later, the great fervor forgotten, my own dad remarked after walking into my room, Beatle LP playing, “At least I can understand what they’re saying.”
A girl, who would one day become my wife, loaned me the tape she had bought at the revival. She didn’t believe in it, but wanted my opinion.
I listened to the tape. The minister would play an excerpt from an album, such as the Beatles “White Album,” then play a reversed section after telling the audience what they were about to hear. He suggested to them before their hearing that a message was in that snippet.
To me, it was sort of like this… say someone yells at you from afar and you can’t really hear what they say. The person standing next to you says, ”Oh, they want you to give them a call.” Then suddenly, that collection of unintelligible sounds does make sense. It’s one of those things our minds do, fill in the blanks with the familiar, or, in this case, the suggested.
Number nine, Number nine, Number nine,” became “Turn me on dead man….”
Now, was there some smoke that this fire rose from? Yes.
Sometimes, the best lies actually have a few bits of truth attached to them. Just enough to make the lie something we can see attached to something we can believe.
Two things come to mind that made the revivalists and TV preachers plenty of money and screen time.
The “Paul is Dead conspiracy” paved the way for people to tear apart every tiny bit of music, lyrics and album covers looking for clues of secret messages and hidden facts.
After their 1966 tour, the Beatles left the road. They played their last show in San Francisco in August of ’66. In September, the LP “revolver” came out. Their whole world changed. The mop tops disappeared, replaced by older, more mature bearded Beatles. The next time the world saw them, they had completed and released “The Sgt. Pepper” LP and previewed the song clips “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny lane” on American Bandstand to a gape mouthed clean-cut crowd.
In 1969, the Duke University paper broke a story that included clues that Paul was dead, and that was the true reason for their absence from the road. An imposter, surgically altered to look like Paul in his new hippie styles, had replaced him. They continued to release music, but even that was not the Beatle music of old.
The clues were everywhere, from the cover of the “Abby Road” LP to song lyrics and hidden messages. “I buried Paul” seemed to be heard t at the end of “Strawberry Fields Forever.” The freaky song “Revolution 9” was rumored to hold the entire night in question when Paul left angry from a recording session and had a fatal car wreck that took his life.
The hunt was on in earnest. It was helped by the fact that Lennon and George martin, famous Beatle producer had experimented in 1965 and ’66 with tape loops and backwards sections in the songs. "Rain" was the first song to feature a back masked message: "Sunshine … Rain … When the rain comes, they run and hide their heads"; the last line is the reversed first verse of the song. Lennon, in his eternal search for new sounds in the limited studios of the mid 60’s found he could splice out sections, reverese them and get different sounds for not only vocals but also guitars.
The race begins.
Soon, other bands also used the technique.
The idea that it was Satan masquerading as a rock musician probably just falls in line with what rock music has always been. It is a form of not only art, but of rebellion. The youth have their music and it is feared by the parents who don’t understand it. Parents take the comfortable music of their own youth with them, and as always, the parents view the things of their youth as something good, and the things of today as something with less value, and with the power to pervert their children from the narrow path.
There were court cases where Ozzy Osborne and Judas Priest were sued by families who insisted that the subliminal messages in the music forced their children into suicide. Tragic as that was, it was not the music. Other bands, such as Styx and ELO were attacked with the accusations that demonic messages were hidden backwards in their music. ELO’s “Eldorado” LP was supposed to hide demonic messages. From tthat, ELO and other bands struck back in parody. ELO’s 1975 release had intentional and obvious backwards messages including “Turn back, Turn Back, the music is reversible,” “thank you for listening” and “You’re playing me backwards.”
Pink Floyd added their 2 cents worth with the song “Empty Spaces.” In reverse, it said "Hello, hunters. Congratulations. You've just discovered the secret message. Please send your answer to Old Pink, care of the funny farm, Chalfont." Most people thought they were referring to original member Syd barrett.
Satyx went further and produced a concept album against the whole movement. “Kilroy was here” was based upon a religious movement that forced rock musicians to flee from society.. In 1981, Styx had been accused of putting the backwards message "Satan move through our voices" on the song "Snowblind." Side 2 of “Kilroy..” opens with a song “heavy Metal Poisoning” and contains this line in reverse. "Annuit Cœptis, Novus Ordo Seclorum" ("He approves (or has approved) [our] undertakings", "New Order of the Ages") The LP featured those famous words, “Domo Arrigato, Mr. Roboto!” The religious movement probably made Styx even more famous due to their response.
What happened to the back masking furor? It settled into a quiet murmur after the PMRC hearings. The parental Music resource Center movement led by Tipper Gore shed a less than favorable light on those attempting to censor the music. No doubt, there was some music out there that probably had little artistic merit or was offensive to much of the population, but the gearings of capitalism took care of most of that early in their careers. Bands like 2-live-crew and their “nasty As They Want To Be” LP faded as fast as their fame had come.
Some bands still use back masking. Tupac, the White Stripes, Weird Al and Linkin Park are just a few of the bands who have employed it to much less than Demonic purpose.
For the curious, there are mile sof files, pretty files of Back masking stories in Wikipedia, and it is a pretty complete job of reporting there. There are also a lot of YouTube videos, especially regarding the messages and “Paul Is Dead” conspiracy.
The challenge is this…. Listen to the backwards songs first without looking to see what it is supposed to be saying. Are you getting a message from Satan or the sudden urge to beat up sheep?
Domo Arrigato, Mr Roboto!
In the late 70’s, the fear of pop music as a carrier wave for satan once again reared its ugly head in the form of back masking allegations.
Seems like TV preachers and touring circus ministers always needed some gimmick to demonize the music ever since rock and roll crawled from the primal ooze in the 50’s. Even then, some DJs refused to play that Devil Music, even calling people like Elvis evil. I wonder what happened to those people when they saw the heavy metal mayhem of the 70’s and 80’s which co-opted Satan, 666 and the upside down cross for their fiery stage shows.
In the early 80’s, then a new teacher, I had several students come to my classes worried and traumatized by a traveling revival minister that preached on the dangers of rock music and its hidden Satanic messages. He played the crowd clip after clip of songs from the Betakes, Led Zeppelin, Styx, Ozzy and Electric Light Orchestra and then reversed the song in his proof of the great satanic conspiracy to steal the souls of the young through rock music.
He also sold tapes. A lot of tapes. Not only did this minister spread his word through the Love offerings given by the crowds each night, but his soul saving cassette tapes loaded with audio proof of the demonic messages made their way from his daring hands to their s, each eager for evidence of the great conspiracy.
Many of these kids were upset. Some told me that the very evening following the sermon, their parents went home, confiscated their Led Zeppelin LPs and destroyed them. Styx went in to the trash. ELO, Black Sabbath and Judas priest followed. Once again, a fever as great as that in 1965 when John Lennon uttered the words to a reporter that he thought a friend, “We’re more popular than Christ.” Lennon’s words jumped up and bit him on the ass a s radio stations in our country, and teamed with hell and brimstone preachers to organize Beatle record burnings and marches to protest Lennon’s smart ass remark outside the concerts.
That was the comment that led my Dad to tell me “Don’t buy any Beatle albums.” I did. Secretly. And funny enough, a few years later, the great fervor forgotten, my own dad remarked after walking into my room, Beatle LP playing, “At least I can understand what they’re saying.”
A girl, who would one day become my wife, loaned me the tape she had bought at the revival. She didn’t believe in it, but wanted my opinion.
I listened to the tape. The minister would play an excerpt from an album, such as the Beatles “White Album,” then play a reversed section after telling the audience what they were about to hear. He suggested to them before their hearing that a message was in that snippet.
To me, it was sort of like this… say someone yells at you from afar and you can’t really hear what they say. The person standing next to you says, ”Oh, they want you to give them a call.” Then suddenly, that collection of unintelligible sounds does make sense. It’s one of those things our minds do, fill in the blanks with the familiar, or, in this case, the suggested.
Number nine, Number nine, Number nine,” became “Turn me on dead man….”
Now, was there some smoke that this fire rose from? Yes.
Sometimes, the best lies actually have a few bits of truth attached to them. Just enough to make the lie something we can see attached to something we can believe.
Two things come to mind that made the revivalists and TV preachers plenty of money and screen time.
The “Paul is Dead conspiracy” paved the way for people to tear apart every tiny bit of music, lyrics and album covers looking for clues of secret messages and hidden facts.
After their 1966 tour, the Beatles left the road. They played their last show in San Francisco in August of ’66. In September, the LP “revolver” came out. Their whole world changed. The mop tops disappeared, replaced by older, more mature bearded Beatles. The next time the world saw them, they had completed and released “The Sgt. Pepper” LP and previewed the song clips “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny lane” on American Bandstand to a gape mouthed clean-cut crowd.
In 1969, the Duke University paper broke a story that included clues that Paul was dead, and that was the true reason for their absence from the road. An imposter, surgically altered to look like Paul in his new hippie styles, had replaced him. They continued to release music, but even that was not the Beatle music of old.
The clues were everywhere, from the cover of the “Abby Road” LP to song lyrics and hidden messages. “I buried Paul” seemed to be heard t at the end of “Strawberry Fields Forever.” The freaky song “Revolution 9” was rumored to hold the entire night in question when Paul left angry from a recording session and had a fatal car wreck that took his life.
The hunt was on in earnest. It was helped by the fact that Lennon and George martin, famous Beatle producer had experimented in 1965 and ’66 with tape loops and backwards sections in the songs. "Rain" was the first song to feature a back masked message: "Sunshine … Rain … When the rain comes, they run and hide their heads"; the last line is the reversed first verse of the song. Lennon, in his eternal search for new sounds in the limited studios of the mid 60’s found he could splice out sections, reverese them and get different sounds for not only vocals but also guitars.
The race begins.
Soon, other bands also used the technique.
The idea that it was Satan masquerading as a rock musician probably just falls in line with what rock music has always been. It is a form of not only art, but of rebellion. The youth have their music and it is feared by the parents who don’t understand it. Parents take the comfortable music of their own youth with them, and as always, the parents view the things of their youth as something good, and the things of today as something with less value, and with the power to pervert their children from the narrow path.
There were court cases where Ozzy Osborne and Judas Priest were sued by families who insisted that the subliminal messages in the music forced their children into suicide. Tragic as that was, it was not the music. Other bands, such as Styx and ELO were attacked with the accusations that demonic messages were hidden backwards in their music. ELO’s “Eldorado” LP was supposed to hide demonic messages. From tthat, ELO and other bands struck back in parody. ELO’s 1975 release had intentional and obvious backwards messages including “Turn back, Turn Back, the music is reversible,” “thank you for listening” and “You’re playing me backwards.”
Pink Floyd added their 2 cents worth with the song “Empty Spaces.” In reverse, it said "Hello, hunters. Congratulations. You've just discovered the secret message. Please send your answer to Old Pink, care of the funny farm, Chalfont." Most people thought they were referring to original member Syd barrett.
Satyx went further and produced a concept album against the whole movement. “Kilroy was here” was based upon a religious movement that forced rock musicians to flee from society.. In 1981, Styx had been accused of putting the backwards message "Satan move through our voices" on the song "Snowblind." Side 2 of “Kilroy..” opens with a song “heavy Metal Poisoning” and contains this line in reverse. "Annuit Cœptis, Novus Ordo Seclorum" ("He approves (or has approved) [our] undertakings", "New Order of the Ages") The LP featured those famous words, “Domo Arrigato, Mr. Roboto!” The religious movement probably made Styx even more famous due to their response.
What happened to the back masking furor? It settled into a quiet murmur after the PMRC hearings. The parental Music resource Center movement led by Tipper Gore shed a less than favorable light on those attempting to censor the music. No doubt, there was some music out there that probably had little artistic merit or was offensive to much of the population, but the gearings of capitalism took care of most of that early in their careers. Bands like 2-live-crew and their “nasty As They Want To Be” LP faded as fast as their fame had come.
Some bands still use back masking. Tupac, the White Stripes, Weird Al and Linkin Park are just a few of the bands who have employed it to much less than Demonic purpose.
For the curious, there are mile sof files, pretty files of Back masking stories in Wikipedia, and it is a pretty complete job of reporting there. There are also a lot of YouTube videos, especially regarding the messages and “Paul Is Dead” conspiracy.
The challenge is this…. Listen to the backwards songs first without looking to see what it is supposed to be saying. Are you getting a message from Satan or the sudden urge to beat up sheep?
Domo Arrigato, Mr Roboto!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Zen Music Momnent - VooDoo Child
VooDoo Chile ‘09
Driving back to the house from the grocery store. I had just pickled up grocery stuff for the state track meet. It had been a long long day at the end of a hectic week.
Reservations at hotels and places to eat for the track team while we stayed for 3 days in the Oklahoma City area. Tired. Exhausted. Traffic was moving slow with everyone just off work and pushing to get back home to comfort of Cable TV and the 6 o’clock news.
My IPOD was on shuffle and the unseasonable heat beat through the windshield into my face and hands. It was at that moment, deep breath and sigh of resignation, that I heard the first quiet Wah-wah pedal sounds of Jimi Hendrix’s “VooDoo Child.”
Those soft waca-waca sounds turned into the sledgehammer power chords just after my hand, in anticipation, turned the volume high enough to vibrate the little Nissan I sat in, waiting for a green light.
“Well, I stand up next to a mountain
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand”
IT is a song that demands that you play air guitar! As Jimi wails both on guitar and vocals, the urgent solo weaving in and out of the repeated power chords, my ahnds at first thumping in time, then my right dropping to my chest to strum in poor imitation of Jimi’s Voodoo cry.
I lift my voice singing…
“If I dont meet you no more in this world then uh
Ill meet ya on the next one
And dont be late
Dont be late”
Unaware now, and uncaring, if the people sitting hot and impatient in the next cars see the idiot patting his hand in time, playing one handed air guitar, face twisted in rock and roll wail. The car becomes my stage. Jimi is my muse. The tired feeling sloughs from me like skin from a snake. I am energized again. My car moves, as the light turns green, maybe a bit too fast along the mile or so to our house. It is hard to keep Jimi Hendrix at 35 miles per hour.
Refreshed, I think, “I’ll see you in the next life, Jimi.” Why???
“cause Im a voodoo child voodoo child
Lord knows I’m a voodoo child”
Driving back to the house from the grocery store. I had just pickled up grocery stuff for the state track meet. It had been a long long day at the end of a hectic week.
Reservations at hotels and places to eat for the track team while we stayed for 3 days in the Oklahoma City area. Tired. Exhausted. Traffic was moving slow with everyone just off work and pushing to get back home to comfort of Cable TV and the 6 o’clock news.
My IPOD was on shuffle and the unseasonable heat beat through the windshield into my face and hands. It was at that moment, deep breath and sigh of resignation, that I heard the first quiet Wah-wah pedal sounds of Jimi Hendrix’s “VooDoo Child.”
Those soft waca-waca sounds turned into the sledgehammer power chords just after my hand, in anticipation, turned the volume high enough to vibrate the little Nissan I sat in, waiting for a green light.
“Well, I stand up next to a mountain
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand”
IT is a song that demands that you play air guitar! As Jimi wails both on guitar and vocals, the urgent solo weaving in and out of the repeated power chords, my ahnds at first thumping in time, then my right dropping to my chest to strum in poor imitation of Jimi’s Voodoo cry.
I lift my voice singing…
“If I dont meet you no more in this world then uh
Ill meet ya on the next one
And dont be late
Dont be late”
Unaware now, and uncaring, if the people sitting hot and impatient in the next cars see the idiot patting his hand in time, playing one handed air guitar, face twisted in rock and roll wail. The car becomes my stage. Jimi is my muse. The tired feeling sloughs from me like skin from a snake. I am energized again. My car moves, as the light turns green, maybe a bit too fast along the mile or so to our house. It is hard to keep Jimi Hendrix at 35 miles per hour.
Refreshed, I think, “I’ll see you in the next life, Jimi.” Why???
“cause Im a voodoo child voodoo child
Lord knows I’m a voodoo child”
Friday, April 24, 2009
Should Have Been a Rock Star- Badfinegr-promise and tragedy
In the early winter of 1970, I remember sitting on the big Yellow school bus, windows fogged by an Oklahoma November cold spell, when I heard a song that made me perk up. Straining to hear over the laughs and jabber of the early morning bus ride, I leaned close to the black circle speakers mounted high on the bus wall, listening for something familiar..
The sound I was hearing made me excited and optimistic. Th song was “No Matter What.” It sounded to me as if it might be the Beatles, risen from the dead!
The summer of 1970, I had talked my dad into taking me to see the Beatles movie, “Let It Be” at the local Criterion Theater. There was only one theater in the town closest to us, and the shows changed every three days. So, when I saw in the paper that the movie was playing, I went into professional beg mode quickly.
Dad, who a few years before, had forbade me from buying Beatles LP’s, had softened on them, saying that at least he could understand what they were singing. And, he had taken Kathy, my sister, to see Elvis movies. I had managed to get Mom and Dad to take me to see “The Yellow Submarine” a year and half before, and the Beatles Cartoons had played on our TV for a couple of years of Saturday mornings.
The music, I loved. The movie itself, scared me. I could watch as the once fun loving moptops slowly wound down into breakup on the big screen in front of me .It was depressing and exhilarating at once. The music was beautiful… “Let IT Be.” “The Long and Winding Road” and “Get back” echoed through the run down theater, and I soaked in every chord and line.
Then the news came out. Paul had announced he was leaving the Beatles. He had a solo album ready for release… “McCartney.” And for an obsessed fan who went to bed each night, Beatles music playing on the lonely record player, it was a stunning moment. The Beatles were no more.
I pouted for months. I reread the fan magazines. I sorted through he albums, but nothing seemed good enough while knowing the four form Liverpool would never again play for me.
Then, it was on that November morning, a spark came back. I was excited! I caught my girlfriend Debbie at school with the news, ‘I think the Beatles are back!” I found my record collector pal Jerry and we pontificated about the possibility of a reunion!
I was in high spirits, waiting for another chance to hear the song.. In Kiefer Oklahoma, circa 1970, the chance of hearing a new tune was limited. There was no Music Television. There were a few variety TV shows that sometimes had a guest rock band. Dick Clark’s “American Bandstand”: wasn’t on till Saturday. That meant waiting, and scrolling back and forth between the two pop AM stations, KAKC and KELI, hoping to hit on the song.
The next hearing came that very next morning, once again on the way to school. The crackly bus speakers hissed the opening power chords and a McCartneyish voice sang ‘No Matter What You Are!” to my great delight.
But, the awakening came at the end, when in a lull of noise; I was able to hear the DJ list the band as “Badfinger.” Not the Beatles, but some unknown sound-alike band! It was a let down.
As I listened more to the tune, despite my disappointment that it didn’t signal a Beatles reunion, it grew on me. It was a great pop song. It had a catchy riff and was no doubt Beatles influenced. I found my way to the 5 and dime store in Sapulpa, and bought the LP, called “NO Dice.” The fact that the cover was a semi-clad girl didn’t hurt my desire to own it either.
Every time I first bought an LP, it was a religious ritual to hear it. I opened the plastic wrap, opened the foldout, if it happened to be a foldout LP, which this one was. It revealed a late afternoon picture of the band in the setting sun. In fact, one of the members looked a lot like Paul McCartne6y to me. In fact, when I bought the LP, I found another Badfinger LP ( soon to be in my collection as well) called “Magic Christian Music.” I saw three of the members pictured on the back of that LP and a 4th as a shadow across the picture. I thought… “Hmm… maybe the reason they sound so Beatleish is because Paul is secretly in that band??” In fact, the title song had even been composed and produced by McCartney!
As I looked over the disc, read the titles, writers names and song lengths, I noticed that Geoff Emerick was the producer, along with Mal Evans, both longtime Beatle collaborators. The LP was also on Apple Records, owned and operated by the Beaytles. The sound was making sense.
Beatles or not, the LP stood up on its own. It was a rocking, and melodic album. It ranged form rocking pop songs like “Love Me Do” and “No Matter What” to bluesy love songs like “Without You, “ that later Harry Nilsson would turn into a mega-hit remake. IT blended well with their earlier LP “The Magic Christian,” a partial soundtrack for the Ringo Starr movie of the same name. Paul’s simple, but catchy, movie title song, “Come and Get It” followed by power pop love songs like “maybe Tomorrow” and “Carry On Till Tomorrow.”
Badfinger became my Beatles replacement. Sure, the solo Beatles started releasing separate LPs, but Badfinger seemed to capture the spirit of the Beatles in the best way. The release of their 1971 LP “Straight Up” was a masterpiece with George Harrison and Todd Rundgren both producing half of the LP. There is no better pop song than “Baby Blue” and “Day After Day.”
I would continue to follow Badfinger through their change in record companies as they left Apple due to the legal disputes between the ex-Beatles (Beatles suing each other!! Unheard of!) The worst news came in 1975, my fist year in college when I read in “The Rolling Stone” that Pete ham, lead singer and guitarist for Badfinger had committed suicide.
The band had made two great albums for Warner Brothers, but was hardly promoted. Apparently, their manager dicked them too. Desperate and depressed, Ham hanged himself.
No more Beatles. No more Badfinger.
In the summer of 1976, I saw Joey Molland, one time of Badfinger ( the one I thought looked a lot like McCartney) and his new band, Natural Gas, open for the Peter Frampton tour that also included Santana and Gary Wright. Natural Gas was short lived, and Molland reunited with Tom Evans, Badfinger bassist and Ham collaborator to make another Badfinegr Lp. I actually saw their band on tour in Tulsa after the LP release and then again a year later after the release of their second ( “Airwaves” followed by “Say NO More.”) Then tragedy again struck and Tom Evans committed suicide too.
I always thought it was such a tragic loss. Pete Ham and tom Evans made songs that rang out with a real sincerity. They were pop classics that went through the business meat grinder and their psyche was not able to take the impersonal battering of the business.
I still love their music, but even as I sing along in the car, I feel a sadness for the men who wrote those songs.
Mike Gibbins, drummer for Badfinegr, continues to play for other bands and in studio. He even made a couple fo solo LPs. Joey Molland has moved to the US and plays across the country, and released a few solo records and Cds.
I remember finding out about you
ev'ry day my mind is all around you
looking out from my lonely room.
Day after day
“Day After Day”- Pete Ham
The sound I was hearing made me excited and optimistic. Th song was “No Matter What.” It sounded to me as if it might be the Beatles, risen from the dead!
The summer of 1970, I had talked my dad into taking me to see the Beatles movie, “Let It Be” at the local Criterion Theater. There was only one theater in the town closest to us, and the shows changed every three days. So, when I saw in the paper that the movie was playing, I went into professional beg mode quickly.
Dad, who a few years before, had forbade me from buying Beatles LP’s, had softened on them, saying that at least he could understand what they were singing. And, he had taken Kathy, my sister, to see Elvis movies. I had managed to get Mom and Dad to take me to see “The Yellow Submarine” a year and half before, and the Beatles Cartoons had played on our TV for a couple of years of Saturday mornings.
The music, I loved. The movie itself, scared me. I could watch as the once fun loving moptops slowly wound down into breakup on the big screen in front of me .It was depressing and exhilarating at once. The music was beautiful… “Let IT Be.” “The Long and Winding Road” and “Get back” echoed through the run down theater, and I soaked in every chord and line.
Then the news came out. Paul had announced he was leaving the Beatles. He had a solo album ready for release… “McCartney.” And for an obsessed fan who went to bed each night, Beatles music playing on the lonely record player, it was a stunning moment. The Beatles were no more.
I pouted for months. I reread the fan magazines. I sorted through he albums, but nothing seemed good enough while knowing the four form Liverpool would never again play for me.
Then, it was on that November morning, a spark came back. I was excited! I caught my girlfriend Debbie at school with the news, ‘I think the Beatles are back!” I found my record collector pal Jerry and we pontificated about the possibility of a reunion!
I was in high spirits, waiting for another chance to hear the song.. In Kiefer Oklahoma, circa 1970, the chance of hearing a new tune was limited. There was no Music Television. There were a few variety TV shows that sometimes had a guest rock band. Dick Clark’s “American Bandstand”: wasn’t on till Saturday. That meant waiting, and scrolling back and forth between the two pop AM stations, KAKC and KELI, hoping to hit on the song.
The next hearing came that very next morning, once again on the way to school. The crackly bus speakers hissed the opening power chords and a McCartneyish voice sang ‘No Matter What You Are!” to my great delight.
But, the awakening came at the end, when in a lull of noise; I was able to hear the DJ list the band as “Badfinger.” Not the Beatles, but some unknown sound-alike band! It was a let down.
As I listened more to the tune, despite my disappointment that it didn’t signal a Beatles reunion, it grew on me. It was a great pop song. It had a catchy riff and was no doubt Beatles influenced. I found my way to the 5 and dime store in Sapulpa, and bought the LP, called “NO Dice.” The fact that the cover was a semi-clad girl didn’t hurt my desire to own it either.
Every time I first bought an LP, it was a religious ritual to hear it. I opened the plastic wrap, opened the foldout, if it happened to be a foldout LP, which this one was. It revealed a late afternoon picture of the band in the setting sun. In fact, one of the members looked a lot like Paul McCartne6y to me. In fact, when I bought the LP, I found another Badfinger LP ( soon to be in my collection as well) called “Magic Christian Music.” I saw three of the members pictured on the back of that LP and a 4th as a shadow across the picture. I thought… “Hmm… maybe the reason they sound so Beatleish is because Paul is secretly in that band??” In fact, the title song had even been composed and produced by McCartney!
As I looked over the disc, read the titles, writers names and song lengths, I noticed that Geoff Emerick was the producer, along with Mal Evans, both longtime Beatle collaborators. The LP was also on Apple Records, owned and operated by the Beaytles. The sound was making sense.
Beatles or not, the LP stood up on its own. It was a rocking, and melodic album. It ranged form rocking pop songs like “Love Me Do” and “No Matter What” to bluesy love songs like “Without You, “ that later Harry Nilsson would turn into a mega-hit remake. IT blended well with their earlier LP “The Magic Christian,” a partial soundtrack for the Ringo Starr movie of the same name. Paul’s simple, but catchy, movie title song, “Come and Get It” followed by power pop love songs like “maybe Tomorrow” and “Carry On Till Tomorrow.”
Badfinger became my Beatles replacement. Sure, the solo Beatles started releasing separate LPs, but Badfinger seemed to capture the spirit of the Beatles in the best way. The release of their 1971 LP “Straight Up” was a masterpiece with George Harrison and Todd Rundgren both producing half of the LP. There is no better pop song than “Baby Blue” and “Day After Day.”
I would continue to follow Badfinger through their change in record companies as they left Apple due to the legal disputes between the ex-Beatles (Beatles suing each other!! Unheard of!) The worst news came in 1975, my fist year in college when I read in “The Rolling Stone” that Pete ham, lead singer and guitarist for Badfinger had committed suicide.
The band had made two great albums for Warner Brothers, but was hardly promoted. Apparently, their manager dicked them too. Desperate and depressed, Ham hanged himself.
No more Beatles. No more Badfinger.
In the summer of 1976, I saw Joey Molland, one time of Badfinger ( the one I thought looked a lot like McCartney) and his new band, Natural Gas, open for the Peter Frampton tour that also included Santana and Gary Wright. Natural Gas was short lived, and Molland reunited with Tom Evans, Badfinger bassist and Ham collaborator to make another Badfinegr Lp. I actually saw their band on tour in Tulsa after the LP release and then again a year later after the release of their second ( “Airwaves” followed by “Say NO More.”) Then tragedy again struck and Tom Evans committed suicide too.
I always thought it was such a tragic loss. Pete Ham and tom Evans made songs that rang out with a real sincerity. They were pop classics that went through the business meat grinder and their psyche was not able to take the impersonal battering of the business.
I still love their music, but even as I sing along in the car, I feel a sadness for the men who wrote those songs.
Mike Gibbins, drummer for Badfinegr, continues to play for other bands and in studio. He even made a couple fo solo LPs. Joey Molland has moved to the US and plays across the country, and released a few solo records and Cds.
I remember finding out about you
ev'ry day my mind is all around you
looking out from my lonely room.
Day after day
“Day After Day”- Pete Ham
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I should have been a rock star- The Nuge
The “Nuge”
In college, our heavy metal god was none other than the Motor City Madman, Ted Nugent. I had started buying his albums after I first heard the song “Great White Buffalo” on one of the local Tulsa FM stations. At that time, Ted was still part of his original band, the Amboy dukes.
The guitar amazed me! It was so frickin’ fast! I immediately bought the album, “Tooth, Fang and Claw” and listened to him play the guitar like a Wildman. I read up on Nugent in the Rolling Stone and a few other mags like Creem. He was a wild man of nature form the jungles of Detroit. He didn’t rink and he didn’t take drugs, he just played like one demon possessed.
Listening to Ted play was a cross between running through the woods naked, ready to kill dinner with your bare hands and holding on to both ends of a high tension electrical line!
I finally got to see Nugent at an outdoor concert in Tulsa and then at several other venues in both Tulsa and Wichita. He would swing onto the stage like Tarzan, dressed in a loincloth with his wild hair flying everywhere! He played the guitar like he was using it as a weapon! He rattled off in-between songs in his Nuge speed talk.
“This guitar can knock the balls off a charging Rhino at a hundred paces!” he screamed as he launched into one of the new songs he was playing for the crowd that night. Those songs turned out to be off an upcoming album “Free For all.”
At some show,. The Nuge would even shoot a flaming arrow form his legendary bow. The story was that he hunted and killed a lot of his own food. I could imagine him creeping through the forest, knife clenched between his teeth, crazy look of frenzy in his eyes.
One story said that at one concert, a man in the front began waving a pistol around as Ted played onstage. Apparently, the Nuge continued to wail as the man was subdued by security. It only added to his mystique.
In our dorm room, Nugents songs were blasted at sonic frequencies, straining the capabilities of my poor speakers that drove us into air guitar mob mentality! We jumped around the room, wind milling on imaginary guitars, knee drops into solos, and screaming jumbled lyrics with a pre-game passion. Gutty, our stocky defensive back would climb atop the desks, leaping from one to the other in the midst of “Stranglehold” or “Free For all’s” driving rhythm. He would rub his groin against our second story window as he mimicked the solo from “Cat Scratch Fever” to passer by girls below.
Ted Nugent’s music appealed to us on an athletic level. It was filled with the same abandon and fierceness that it took to survive on a college football field. The meek and mild were soon ground under by the survival of the fittest attitude that every successful football player lived by. It was hit or be hit. It was tooth, fang and claw to beat the guy across from you or be pulled slowly and painfully over the hot coals in the next film session as the coach played and replayed your failed efforts. It was a free for all every time the ball was snapped.
Nugent represented that to us. He was abandon and wild. He was the rhythm to which our collective drums beat. It was his guitar solo that pulsed with our heart rate. His scream was our adrenalin. We knew a kind of call of the wild, and it happened every Saturday on the gridiron. We left there bruised and bloodied, licking our wounds or bursting with excitement from a successful hunt.
It was funny, but not unusual that my listening to the Nuge declined as I left college football. Was it that my attitudes cooled while others still listened to his music? Was it I had changed so suddenly?
Maybe it was that I had been there and done that. I identified with it then, but my life had changed from participant to coach or spectator. The adrenalin I used was a different one.
I had also changed in another way. In the last couple years of college, I had been reading more and more eastern philosophy. I was introduced to novels of Kurt Vonnegut. I really felt like I was becoming more of a whole person; more compassionate, more philosophical, less Darwinian.
I have now coached football for 24 of the 31 years in coaching. At one point sixteen years into the journey, I got out and really didn’t miss it then. In fact, I was having a little bit of a conscious problem with teaching kids in such a violent sport. The 7 years I was out made me realize more than ever that I could coach it and not be like the Neanderthals that give physical sports a bad name. I didn’t have to be the caveman coach, but I could teach them to love it for the sheer joy of competition with others and the battle against their own limitations.
I still listen to Ted from time to time. I still love to hear “Hibernation” and driving guitar of “Stromtroopin”and “Dog eat Dog.” But the adolescent sex jokes of “Cat Scratch fever” and “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang” have little appeal for me now.
Ted, of course, went on the be a spokesman for the goals of the N.R.A. and even conservative talk radio. He still promotes guns and hunting. Me. I became more of a tree hugger and liberal. I don’t hunt. I became a vegetarian and I mediate.
What person watching from the sidelines in those early years would have ever guessed that Captain Crazy would turn out more peace and love than “Dog Eat dog?”
In college, our heavy metal god was none other than the Motor City Madman, Ted Nugent. I had started buying his albums after I first heard the song “Great White Buffalo” on one of the local Tulsa FM stations. At that time, Ted was still part of his original band, the Amboy dukes.
The guitar amazed me! It was so frickin’ fast! I immediately bought the album, “Tooth, Fang and Claw” and listened to him play the guitar like a Wildman. I read up on Nugent in the Rolling Stone and a few other mags like Creem. He was a wild man of nature form the jungles of Detroit. He didn’t rink and he didn’t take drugs, he just played like one demon possessed.
Listening to Ted play was a cross between running through the woods naked, ready to kill dinner with your bare hands and holding on to both ends of a high tension electrical line!
I finally got to see Nugent at an outdoor concert in Tulsa and then at several other venues in both Tulsa and Wichita. He would swing onto the stage like Tarzan, dressed in a loincloth with his wild hair flying everywhere! He played the guitar like he was using it as a weapon! He rattled off in-between songs in his Nuge speed talk.
“This guitar can knock the balls off a charging Rhino at a hundred paces!” he screamed as he launched into one of the new songs he was playing for the crowd that night. Those songs turned out to be off an upcoming album “Free For all.”
At some show,. The Nuge would even shoot a flaming arrow form his legendary bow. The story was that he hunted and killed a lot of his own food. I could imagine him creeping through the forest, knife clenched between his teeth, crazy look of frenzy in his eyes.
One story said that at one concert, a man in the front began waving a pistol around as Ted played onstage. Apparently, the Nuge continued to wail as the man was subdued by security. It only added to his mystique.
In our dorm room, Nugents songs were blasted at sonic frequencies, straining the capabilities of my poor speakers that drove us into air guitar mob mentality! We jumped around the room, wind milling on imaginary guitars, knee drops into solos, and screaming jumbled lyrics with a pre-game passion. Gutty, our stocky defensive back would climb atop the desks, leaping from one to the other in the midst of “Stranglehold” or “Free For all’s” driving rhythm. He would rub his groin against our second story window as he mimicked the solo from “Cat Scratch Fever” to passer by girls below.
Ted Nugent’s music appealed to us on an athletic level. It was filled with the same abandon and fierceness that it took to survive on a college football field. The meek and mild were soon ground under by the survival of the fittest attitude that every successful football player lived by. It was hit or be hit. It was tooth, fang and claw to beat the guy across from you or be pulled slowly and painfully over the hot coals in the next film session as the coach played and replayed your failed efforts. It was a free for all every time the ball was snapped.
Nugent represented that to us. He was abandon and wild. He was the rhythm to which our collective drums beat. It was his guitar solo that pulsed with our heart rate. His scream was our adrenalin. We knew a kind of call of the wild, and it happened every Saturday on the gridiron. We left there bruised and bloodied, licking our wounds or bursting with excitement from a successful hunt.
It was funny, but not unusual that my listening to the Nuge declined as I left college football. Was it that my attitudes cooled while others still listened to his music? Was it I had changed so suddenly?
Maybe it was that I had been there and done that. I identified with it then, but my life had changed from participant to coach or spectator. The adrenalin I used was a different one.
I had also changed in another way. In the last couple years of college, I had been reading more and more eastern philosophy. I was introduced to novels of Kurt Vonnegut. I really felt like I was becoming more of a whole person; more compassionate, more philosophical, less Darwinian.
I have now coached football for 24 of the 31 years in coaching. At one point sixteen years into the journey, I got out and really didn’t miss it then. In fact, I was having a little bit of a conscious problem with teaching kids in such a violent sport. The 7 years I was out made me realize more than ever that I could coach it and not be like the Neanderthals that give physical sports a bad name. I didn’t have to be the caveman coach, but I could teach them to love it for the sheer joy of competition with others and the battle against their own limitations.
I still listen to Ted from time to time. I still love to hear “Hibernation” and driving guitar of “Stromtroopin”and “Dog eat Dog.” But the adolescent sex jokes of “Cat Scratch fever” and “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang” have little appeal for me now.
Ted, of course, went on the be a spokesman for the goals of the N.R.A. and even conservative talk radio. He still promotes guns and hunting. Me. I became more of a tree hugger and liberal. I don’t hunt. I became a vegetarian and I mediate.
What person watching from the sidelines in those early years would have ever guessed that Captain Crazy would turn out more peace and love than “Dog Eat dog?”
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Music Zen Moments – American Pie
Music Zen Moments – American Pie
It was Mayfest time in Tulsa. Every year, downtown Tulsa blocked off a large section of the business district and Main Street for Mayfest. There were tons of art vendors, food, and several stages spaced among the streets for local and some national music acts.
We always made it to Mayfest, just to wander the booths, listen to some of the local bands and eat food from the participating restaurants. There were plenty of beer vendors in the one time each year you could walk down the main mall in Tulsa with a cup of semi-cold beer in your hand.
The main stage, surrounded by trees and a small park area, always had the biggest draw bands. Country acts, and some rising or long time national acts would play there to a moderate sized crowd. There were lines of folding chairs and sometimes people with their own lawn chairs strewn around the perimeter of the area.
Ashley and I made a point to be in the crowd the year that Don Mclean played Mayfest. I had been a fan ever since the seminal album “American Pie” hit the airwaves in 1971. That song, “American Pie,” caught literally everyone’s imagination with its poetry and imagery. It made those of us who followed the history of Rock music listen carefully to figure out who or what each of the lyrics referred to. Was the “Satan laughing with delight” a reference to Mick Jagger at the Altamont concert where, during the singing of “Sympathy for the Devil” a member of the Hell’s Angels stabbed a guy to death near the front of the crowd? Was “Helter Skelter in the summer swelter” a reference to the Manson murders that were supposed to have been inspired by the Beatles White album?
Mclean came on stage to a roar of applause and calls. He set out through a beautiful set, enhanced by the perfect early May Oklahoma day. The sky shone a peaceful pastel blue behind him and his band as he crooned though hit after hit. Roberta Flack was right when she wrote about him in her song, “Killing Me Softly.” “Strumming my pain with his fingers. Singing my life with his words.”
Don’s smooth voice sang “And I love her so,” the haunting “Vincent” and his cover of Roy Orbison’s “Crying.” He chatted with the crowd and small kids danced, uninhibited at the front of the stage as he played and sang. As the end of the show neared, we all waited for “American Pie,” but at the same time wishing it would delay because we knew that would end the show.
“Long, Long time ago….” He began, as he quietly strummed his guitar, and the crowd erupted! The audience stood, en masse, moving toward the stage to sing, along with its creator, the anthem of a generation of fans.
“American Pie” is a song that, at over 8 minutes in, length, was one of the longest songs to top the pop charts in 1972. The Beatles had a number one with the 7-minute “Hey Jude” in 1968. But, on that early evening in down town Tulsa, the minutes flew by as the crowd sang out; unaware of others who might look on, when the unfortunate happened.
Two Thirds of the way through the song, the entire sound system died. Suddenly McLean’s voice was silent. Suddenly his guitar was no more. Suddenly his band ceased to exist.
The amzing thing was this….th song did not stop. The crowd continued on with the song, their voices blending, as it wafted through the warm evening air. Mclean, with a shrug, stepped to the front of the stage and began conducting the crowd as they sang through the last verse and chorus.
"And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.
And they were singing,
"bye-bye, Miss American Pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"this'll be the day that I die."
At the end, Don Mclean, bowed and gestured to his band as the crowd rose in applause. The concert had been spectacular, but it was that electric glitch, that coincidence of technical failure that made this concert more than what it seemed on the surface. The crowd, all united in one voice, just for a few moments, became something bigger.
It was Mayfest time in Tulsa. Every year, downtown Tulsa blocked off a large section of the business district and Main Street for Mayfest. There were tons of art vendors, food, and several stages spaced among the streets for local and some national music acts.
We always made it to Mayfest, just to wander the booths, listen to some of the local bands and eat food from the participating restaurants. There were plenty of beer vendors in the one time each year you could walk down the main mall in Tulsa with a cup of semi-cold beer in your hand.
The main stage, surrounded by trees and a small park area, always had the biggest draw bands. Country acts, and some rising or long time national acts would play there to a moderate sized crowd. There were lines of folding chairs and sometimes people with their own lawn chairs strewn around the perimeter of the area.
Ashley and I made a point to be in the crowd the year that Don Mclean played Mayfest. I had been a fan ever since the seminal album “American Pie” hit the airwaves in 1971. That song, “American Pie,” caught literally everyone’s imagination with its poetry and imagery. It made those of us who followed the history of Rock music listen carefully to figure out who or what each of the lyrics referred to. Was the “Satan laughing with delight” a reference to Mick Jagger at the Altamont concert where, during the singing of “Sympathy for the Devil” a member of the Hell’s Angels stabbed a guy to death near the front of the crowd? Was “Helter Skelter in the summer swelter” a reference to the Manson murders that were supposed to have been inspired by the Beatles White album?
Mclean came on stage to a roar of applause and calls. He set out through a beautiful set, enhanced by the perfect early May Oklahoma day. The sky shone a peaceful pastel blue behind him and his band as he crooned though hit after hit. Roberta Flack was right when she wrote about him in her song, “Killing Me Softly.” “Strumming my pain with his fingers. Singing my life with his words.”
Don’s smooth voice sang “And I love her so,” the haunting “Vincent” and his cover of Roy Orbison’s “Crying.” He chatted with the crowd and small kids danced, uninhibited at the front of the stage as he played and sang. As the end of the show neared, we all waited for “American Pie,” but at the same time wishing it would delay because we knew that would end the show.
“Long, Long time ago….” He began, as he quietly strummed his guitar, and the crowd erupted! The audience stood, en masse, moving toward the stage to sing, along with its creator, the anthem of a generation of fans.
“American Pie” is a song that, at over 8 minutes in, length, was one of the longest songs to top the pop charts in 1972. The Beatles had a number one with the 7-minute “Hey Jude” in 1968. But, on that early evening in down town Tulsa, the minutes flew by as the crowd sang out; unaware of others who might look on, when the unfortunate happened.
Two Thirds of the way through the song, the entire sound system died. Suddenly McLean’s voice was silent. Suddenly his guitar was no more. Suddenly his band ceased to exist.
The amzing thing was this….th song did not stop. The crowd continued on with the song, their voices blending, as it wafted through the warm evening air. Mclean, with a shrug, stepped to the front of the stage and began conducting the crowd as they sang through the last verse and chorus.
"And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.
And they were singing,
"bye-bye, Miss American Pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"this'll be the day that I die."
At the end, Don Mclean, bowed and gestured to his band as the crowd rose in applause. The concert had been spectacular, but it was that electric glitch, that coincidence of technical failure that made this concert more than what it seemed on the surface. The crowd, all united in one voice, just for a few moments, became something bigger.
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