Last week, my son Corwin and I went to see Eric Clapton play at the Tulsa BOK center. Roger Daltrey of the Who opened the show, on a solo tour before settling in to make a new Who album with Townshend this summer. Daltry was on fire. He wailed through a collection of solo and Who songs with Petes' brother Simon on lead guitar.
Originally, Ashley had bought the tickets for Fletch and I as a Christmas gift, not realizing that Fletch was headed back to China 2 weeks before the March 2nd concert. So, that left Ash to reluctantly go to the show with me. She is not a big concert fan, the press of the crowd, the thunderous noise, the chaos and confusion of thousands trying to get into the show, and sometimes becoming obnoxious after a couple of high priced beers or drinks. The day of the show, she enlisted Corwin to replace her as my concert buddy. He went gladly, but I was a little surprised since his music tastes are not so much inclined to the classic rock, but more to current rock and rap genres. Fletch worships Clapton and it's too bad he missed this one.
Cor and I loaded up, drove to Tulsa and frantically searched the streets for a parking spot that was not 10 or 20 dollars for the convenience of being close. We finally found something a good 7 or 8 blocks away on a street. Braving the cool March evening air, we pulled our coats close about us and trudged, among the other faithful, to the steps of the arena.
As we walked into the arena, and our tickets were scanned, not torn as I had been used to in concert days of yore, it made me think back to my previous musical episodes with Clapton, the man canonized in the 70's with the phrase, "Clapton is God."
I had seen Clapton live 3 other times before this night.The first dating as far back as 1975 in the old Tulsa Convention Center. My current college room mate, Terry Brady and I fought our way to the show to watch Freddy King open the show, and Clapton, along with his Tulsa based band, rip through the great hits he had already accumulated by that time. Backing him, were several musicians who had been a part of creating what was known as the "TULSA SOUND." Tulsans Keyboardist Dick Sims, Drummer Jamie Oldaker, and bassist Carl Radle were an essential part of Clapton's touring band in the 70's. They paired with Florida Guitarist George Terry and back ground vocalist Yvonne Elliman.
Now, Clapton's connection to Tulsa had started a few years before when in Los Angles he made friends with Tulsa transplant Leon Russell. Leon had moved to California in the late 60's to record, study music and produce several bands. Among the bands Leon produced was Gary Lewis and the Playboys. Leon played some piano on their cuts alongside another Tulsa musician Carl Radle. It was through Leon, that Clapton met and hired Radle as the bassiust for his first solo LP, "Eric Clapton." Leon played on it and helped co-write 2 songs. It was on this album that Clapton first covered another Tulsan's songs, "After Midnight" by J J Cale. in 1971 , Clapton asked Radle to be part of his super band "Derek and the Dominos." Thye were short lived due to the death of Duane Allman and Eric's continuing drug problem. Clapton would alos add Cale's song "Cocaine" to his discography and eventually make an album with J J Cale in 2006.
In 1973, after going cold turkey with heroin, Clapton was coaxed out of seclusion by Pete Townshend resulting in the "Rainbow Concert." Eric was supported in his all star effort by Townshend, Ron Wood, Steve Winwood and Jim Capaldi. This jump started Eric's music and within a year, teaming with his new Tulsa based band, they released the spectacular "461 Ocean Blvd."
Clapton was seen often in Tulsa then. He hung out at Leon Church Studio in Tulsa with eh other characters of the Tulsa sound... Cale, Triplehorn, Oldaker, Russell, etc. Clapton played and toured with his Tulsa band through out the remainder of the 70's before his legendary restlessness carried him in other directions. They also played with Bonnie and Delaney, joined by good friend George Harrison.
That first Clapton show in Tulsa was spectacular. He ended the show by jamming with Freddie King. I did not know at that time that Freddie's career had been given new life when Leon Russell produced a new LPs for him in '71, '72 and '73 on Leon's own Shelter Records. In '74 Freddy moved to Clapton's RSO label for his last 2 Lps. King would die the year following the Tulsa concert.
Many years passed before I was able to see Clapton live again. In the summer of 2004, with both sons and my wife, we traveled to Dallas Texas to see Clapton at the CRossroads Guitarfest. It was a 2 day guitar orgy that Clapton had put together to raise funds for his Drug and alcohol rehab venture called "Crossroads." It had been Fletch's idea to go. Ash and Cor, who was only 13 at the time, were not interested in standing out in the hot Dallas sun all day in the Cotton Bowl. So, they dropped us off and we elbowed our way to the front half of the floor of the stadium to stand just 20 yards away from the stages erected there. The show began early, rotating stages back and forth as guitar god after guitar god took the stage. Clapton presided over the event, playing with some of the musicians. He dueled with BB King, Buddy Guy, John mayer, Carlos santana and Jimmy Vaughn. Other acts, Neil Shon, Booker T, Larry Carleton, James Taylor and a huge castof musicians kept the festivities flowing all day long and late into the evening. As the last bands took the stage, the wind began to rise and as ZZ Top polished off the night, rain and wind whipped the crowd and stage sets. It had been a spectacular frenzy of guitar riffs and wailing Starts. We had witnessed one of the final performances of the legendary Bo Diddly at that concert.
Fletch and I followed that concert up with an indoor show in Oklahoma City just one month later and Clapton and band wowed the crowds. That show was opened by Robert Randolph and Family Band. Randolf had also played at the guitar fest and jammed with Eric to end the OKC show.
Finally, March of 2010 and a 64 year old Eric Clapton took the stage in Tulsa again. Everyone wondered... would eh be joined by some of his old Tulsa gang? Radle had passed away in 1980 as a result of a kidney infection due to drug abuse. OLdaker still plays in Tulsa. Other musicians such as David Teegarden and JJ Cale make their appearances now and then. Teegarden made a career as a drummer most notable for Bob Seger. Would Cale show up? Would old pal Leon appear?
I thought not. I had been to a Leon Russell and Joe Cocker concert a few years before in Tulsa. There ws great anticipation that perhaps they might reunite just as they had on "MadDogs and Englishmen" when Leon acted as tour musical director and written a few of Cocker's hits. They did not play together. They both played good sets separately and left me satisfied, even with out the reunion fever.
At the show, Clapton blazed through a set of songs, exhibiting guitar wizardry that left me as perplexed today as it did in 1978 while trying with my college guitar teacher to learn the opening solo to "Layala." I never did. As I have said before... I am not a good or even adequate guitarist. I am a great listener for those who are. And I was thrilled with what I saw of Clapton that night, whose hands showed no signs of aging as they sizzled on the fret board. As we left the show, even Corwin was impressed with what he had seen and heard. It was not his kind of music, but who can deny genius?
It took me back to the 70's and the Tulsa Sound. I talked to Corwin about that era as we trudged through the cold evening back to our small car.
The Tulsa Sound. It was here and Clapton was a big part in popularizing it beyond the borders of this state, as was Leon, JJ Cale and others.
This Christmas, another connected gift, even though Ashley probably did not consider it so, was the book about the history of Oklahoma Rock and Roll, "Another Hot Oklahoma Night." In that book it traces the characters who amde the Tulsa sound. It covers the famous record stores that I haunted for years in search of rock gems. It discusses the history of Oklahoma rock radio.. the same ones I spent hour after hour singing along with or listening to quietly in the late evening, undetected by my parents. . It covers Leon's recording studios and
even a studio owned by a man I teach with now at Sapulpa High, Bill Davis. Bill owned one of the early recording venues in Tulsa. He hung out with and played in garage bands with the likes of JJ Cale and Leon Russell. I took the book to show Bill he had been made a part of Oklahoma History. "oh, the book I could write," he said.
It is here.. the Tulsa sound. It touched the Maddogs and Englishmen. It drove Clapton's return. It wailed on the stage at the Concert for Bangladesh as Leon whipped his long gray mane through "Young Blood".. It throbbed as the bass on the "Layla" LP. It was Teegarden and Van Winkle. It was Gary Busey, who played on a couple of Russell albums, as BUddy Holly. The sound influened everyone who played a Leon song or covered one of JJ cale's many songs, ranging from Kansas to Lynyrd Skynyrd.
It is in a thousand musicians.. some of which were born here and moved on.. from David Gates of Bread, to the Flaming Lips. From Neil Shon of Journey to All American Rejects. To those who brushed against fame like Admiral Twin and Hanson to the icons like Leon and JJ Cale. It is still played in a collection of clubs across northwestern Oklahoma by anonymous musicians whose names will never see the headlines, but whose collective guitars put to shame the anemic musicians on music television.
There's no doubt.. you don't have to be on the coast to rock... Oklahoma rocks.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
I should have been a rock star- Woodstock in Kiefer
Kiefer’s Woodstock
I just finished watching the movie “Taking Woodstock.” IT was a much better film than I expected… sort of low key and poignant. The 2009 movie was made about the strange turn of events that brought that historic concert in 1969 to a small summer vacation and arts village.
Elliot Tiber, the youngest elected president of the village board finds a chance to give a concert without a home both land and a permit that turned into something much bigger than he had ever anticipated.
The movie brought me back to 1980 and a time when I, along with my cousin Rob, got the idea that we too might be able to get into music promotion, hang out with bands, and make a few bucks along the way. Rob actually came up with the idea and naive as we were, we plunged into it with great intentions and very little else.
The road to our first promotion was probably decided as much by lust as it was by brains. Rob had seen a band at a club that he really liked. The name of the group was “Black Label.” Today there is a national recording artist “The Black Label Society,” but this is not them in their fledgling years. Rob talked me into going to see them practice and try to enlist them in the idea that we had put together.
The band was fronted by a female lead singer. She was tall, blonde with a husky voice and moved sensuously around the stage as she sang. I am sure that Rob saw the same thing in her that I did. Now, the rest of the band was good too… the sound was tight and made a great backdrop for her stage presence. I listened. I agreed with Rob and we made our pitch as far as a idea we had for hiring them to put on what we thought might be the beginning of a new business.
We figured… hell… lots of people put on shows. All we needed was a place, electricity, security and insurance. IT was summer, so we decided to put our venture outdoors. We knew we would be starting small, but wanted to be a s successful as possible in our first attempt.
Rob and I decided on renting the Kiefer city park. It had electricity, and with a couple of ball diamonds there made a great place to set up for a nice early summer concert and dance. Our venture would be called “Dance on the Diamond.” I don’t remember which of us came up with the name, but it made sense and we hoped it would be at least catchy enough to draw a crowd.
We met with the city to make plans for rental and rules. It was a shoo in since Rob’s sister, and my cousin Waynelle was a part of the board. They let us have the park for nearly nothing provided we have insurance, security and do a clean up. Then we set out to get the rest of the promotion and management in line.
Of course, our new enterprise had to have a business name. It had to identify us on the literature, posters, tickets and of course, the item no business can live without.. the rubber stamp. We decided on ESAD/PIDDLE. Piddle was an easy one for me as the Prince of Piddle. My Dad was the true king of Piddle, but I was waiting in line to take the throne someday. Rob’s tag line was something a little less easy to tell our parents. ESAD stood for Eat Shit And Die.
So, Eat Shit And Die and Piddle went to work getting the dancers to a small Kiefer Oklahoma ballpark to sit, groove and dance to the music of our Black Label goddess.
We lined up the insurance. It only cost us $75 for that evening. We hired a security guard to keep an eye on undesirables and make sure only paying people got in. We got some family members to sell tickets… lined up a flatbed to be brought to the ball park to set the band on….laid electric cords for the band … etc
Rob and I traveled all over the area.. Hitting all the small towns locally, hanging our poster in stores, gas stations, and groceries. We got more and more nervous as the date for the “Dance on the Diamond” drew near. I was worried that no one would show and our attempt at the music business would be a complete bust and we would lose lots of money.
Finally, the day arrived. We set up for ticket sales at the entrance. We had a few guys, friends, who helped the band set up and would be there for the cleanup. We had iced down some beer to drink while we did our clean up.
A few people began to trickle in. A couple of cars came with several people… paying customers who paid, got their ticket and hands stamped with ESAD/PIDDLE in bright red ink. The crowd was small, but waiting as the band took the stage in the early evening of an Oklahoma June. The air was hot, but pleasant for Oklahoma. I was sweating, but then I always sweat. But I think then it was not so much due to the physical labor I had done that day as it was due to the nervousness I felt about the whole enterprise.
The band came on and played. The small crowd of people sat on blankets and lawn chairs, appreciative of the music as I was of the singer as she glided across the stage. I can still remember her growling at the front of the stage as she sang Bob Seger’s “Her Strut.” “The Boys Respect her But They Love To Watch Her Strut.” Yes, that night I appreciated that song by Seger like I never had before.
The night went with very little interruption besides the 4 teen guys who tried to slip in by smearing red ink on their hands. Our alert security guard caught them and chased them away. That provided the only small excitement away from the stage. Luckily they weren’t a very disruptive force since our guard probably couldn’t have handled too much.
Finally, the band sang their last song. The small group of listeners applauded and picked up blackest and chairs and headed home. Despite my post show fantasies, the band, along with the “Black label” goddess packed up their gear, took their money and disappeared.
I was left with Rob and several others to pick up trash, put away equipment and make sure everything at the diamond was in the same shape as before the show. It took us a short time and then we all sat on the trailer and dug the beer from the cooler. Sitting there, Rob gave me the news that we were not losers in the business end. Even though we put on a “Dance at the Diamond” where no one actually danced, we did not lose money.
After paying rent, insurance, security, the band and buying beer, we had a profit of at least 4 dollars!
Four dollars.
What the hell? It was a nice night. We had some beer. We listened to some rockin’ music and watched a great looking girl sing to us. We may not have made a splash in the rock promotion world, but we did learn some things along the way. And, it was a beautiful night in Kiefer, Oklahoma as the ball field lights went out. We were young and it was summer time.
We never tried to do another one. We left that to the other guys. After all, if people were going to promote shows, they would need spectators. We were much better at that.
I just finished watching the movie “Taking Woodstock.” IT was a much better film than I expected… sort of low key and poignant. The 2009 movie was made about the strange turn of events that brought that historic concert in 1969 to a small summer vacation and arts village.
Elliot Tiber, the youngest elected president of the village board finds a chance to give a concert without a home both land and a permit that turned into something much bigger than he had ever anticipated.
The movie brought me back to 1980 and a time when I, along with my cousin Rob, got the idea that we too might be able to get into music promotion, hang out with bands, and make a few bucks along the way. Rob actually came up with the idea and naive as we were, we plunged into it with great intentions and very little else.
The road to our first promotion was probably decided as much by lust as it was by brains. Rob had seen a band at a club that he really liked. The name of the group was “Black Label.” Today there is a national recording artist “The Black Label Society,” but this is not them in their fledgling years. Rob talked me into going to see them practice and try to enlist them in the idea that we had put together.
The band was fronted by a female lead singer. She was tall, blonde with a husky voice and moved sensuously around the stage as she sang. I am sure that Rob saw the same thing in her that I did. Now, the rest of the band was good too… the sound was tight and made a great backdrop for her stage presence. I listened. I agreed with Rob and we made our pitch as far as a idea we had for hiring them to put on what we thought might be the beginning of a new business.
We figured… hell… lots of people put on shows. All we needed was a place, electricity, security and insurance. IT was summer, so we decided to put our venture outdoors. We knew we would be starting small, but wanted to be a s successful as possible in our first attempt.
Rob and I decided on renting the Kiefer city park. It had electricity, and with a couple of ball diamonds there made a great place to set up for a nice early summer concert and dance. Our venture would be called “Dance on the Diamond.” I don’t remember which of us came up with the name, but it made sense and we hoped it would be at least catchy enough to draw a crowd.
We met with the city to make plans for rental and rules. It was a shoo in since Rob’s sister, and my cousin Waynelle was a part of the board. They let us have the park for nearly nothing provided we have insurance, security and do a clean up. Then we set out to get the rest of the promotion and management in line.
Of course, our new enterprise had to have a business name. It had to identify us on the literature, posters, tickets and of course, the item no business can live without.. the rubber stamp. We decided on ESAD/PIDDLE. Piddle was an easy one for me as the Prince of Piddle. My Dad was the true king of Piddle, but I was waiting in line to take the throne someday. Rob’s tag line was something a little less easy to tell our parents. ESAD stood for Eat Shit And Die.
So, Eat Shit And Die and Piddle went to work getting the dancers to a small Kiefer Oklahoma ballpark to sit, groove and dance to the music of our Black Label goddess.
We lined up the insurance. It only cost us $75 for that evening. We hired a security guard to keep an eye on undesirables and make sure only paying people got in. We got some family members to sell tickets… lined up a flatbed to be brought to the ball park to set the band on….laid electric cords for the band … etc
Rob and I traveled all over the area.. Hitting all the small towns locally, hanging our poster in stores, gas stations, and groceries. We got more and more nervous as the date for the “Dance on the Diamond” drew near. I was worried that no one would show and our attempt at the music business would be a complete bust and we would lose lots of money.
Finally, the day arrived. We set up for ticket sales at the entrance. We had a few guys, friends, who helped the band set up and would be there for the cleanup. We had iced down some beer to drink while we did our clean up.
A few people began to trickle in. A couple of cars came with several people… paying customers who paid, got their ticket and hands stamped with ESAD/PIDDLE in bright red ink. The crowd was small, but waiting as the band took the stage in the early evening of an Oklahoma June. The air was hot, but pleasant for Oklahoma. I was sweating, but then I always sweat. But I think then it was not so much due to the physical labor I had done that day as it was due to the nervousness I felt about the whole enterprise.
The band came on and played. The small crowd of people sat on blankets and lawn chairs, appreciative of the music as I was of the singer as she glided across the stage. I can still remember her growling at the front of the stage as she sang Bob Seger’s “Her Strut.” “The Boys Respect her But They Love To Watch Her Strut.” Yes, that night I appreciated that song by Seger like I never had before.
The night went with very little interruption besides the 4 teen guys who tried to slip in by smearing red ink on their hands. Our alert security guard caught them and chased them away. That provided the only small excitement away from the stage. Luckily they weren’t a very disruptive force since our guard probably couldn’t have handled too much.
Finally, the band sang their last song. The small group of listeners applauded and picked up blackest and chairs and headed home. Despite my post show fantasies, the band, along with the “Black label” goddess packed up their gear, took their money and disappeared.
I was left with Rob and several others to pick up trash, put away equipment and make sure everything at the diamond was in the same shape as before the show. It took us a short time and then we all sat on the trailer and dug the beer from the cooler. Sitting there, Rob gave me the news that we were not losers in the business end. Even though we put on a “Dance at the Diamond” where no one actually danced, we did not lose money.
After paying rent, insurance, security, the band and buying beer, we had a profit of at least 4 dollars!
Four dollars.
What the hell? It was a nice night. We had some beer. We listened to some rockin’ music and watched a great looking girl sing to us. We may not have made a splash in the rock promotion world, but we did learn some things along the way. And, it was a beautiful night in Kiefer, Oklahoma as the ball field lights went out. We were young and it was summer time.
We never tried to do another one. We left that to the other guys. After all, if people were going to promote shows, they would need spectators. We were much better at that.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Zen Music Moment - Lucking into Elton
Zen Music Moment
A couple years ago, the AIDS Quilt came to Tulsa for display. My good friend Larry and his wife were part of the committee to bring it and display at the Tulsa Convention Center. Larry’s wife, Claudia, had lost a brother to AIDS related illness.
AS the date drew near, Ashley and I volunteered to act as monitors in the huge display room. The quilts were mounted on walls and laid out in patterns across the floor. We monitors were dressed in all white, and our job was to simply police an area and watch out for the well being of the quilt.
Of course, a large percentage of the monitors were part of the gay community, as were many of the sponsors. Ashley got a kick out of the time when one of the male monitors told me that my dark, curly hair looked very nice against my white shirt. “Wanting to switch sides?” she had asked in a whisper as we strolled through the wandering crowd.
We were all a little excited and hopeful that we might get a little recognition from a celebrity scheduled to appear in concert just down the hall in the Convention Center concert hall. Elton John had brought his one-man show to Tulsa, appearing alone with only his piano. I had seen Elton before with his full band in tow and it was a spectacular concert.
Everyone knew Elton had made appearances for the Ryan White Foundation, and as a gay man himself had supported many of the AIDS related charities. Quietly, we were anticipating some good luck and the chance to meet Elton.
As the day and afternoon wore on, it became apparent that Elton would not make it to the display, but we still had some good luck as far as his concert. The show had been sold out for a long time. I was unable to get tickets. But, late that afternoon, the tour manager came to the display and told Larry’s daughter they had moved the stage and equipment freeing up quite a few seats on the floor. He offered those seats to the workers for only $50 per seat. WE reacted quickly! A chance to see Elton John in this sold out show and from the floor, no less.
As the display shut down, we made our way to the concert. We were seated some 25 rows away from the stage. A great place for seeing and hearing the show! I ran to the concession for Ash and while there ran into my nephew Brian. He had managed to get tickets in the nosebleed sections, back of the auditorium and had paid $150 dollars for his seat.
Needless to say, Elton and his piano were tremendous! “Rocket Man,” “Tiny Dancer” and “Good bye Yellow Brick Road”… all his great hits one after the other.
Sure, it was a case of being in the right place at the right time, but I like to think it was something a little more too.
Good Karma. What goes around, comes around.
A couple years ago, the AIDS Quilt came to Tulsa for display. My good friend Larry and his wife were part of the committee to bring it and display at the Tulsa Convention Center. Larry’s wife, Claudia, had lost a brother to AIDS related illness.
AS the date drew near, Ashley and I volunteered to act as monitors in the huge display room. The quilts were mounted on walls and laid out in patterns across the floor. We monitors were dressed in all white, and our job was to simply police an area and watch out for the well being of the quilt.
Of course, a large percentage of the monitors were part of the gay community, as were many of the sponsors. Ashley got a kick out of the time when one of the male monitors told me that my dark, curly hair looked very nice against my white shirt. “Wanting to switch sides?” she had asked in a whisper as we strolled through the wandering crowd.
We were all a little excited and hopeful that we might get a little recognition from a celebrity scheduled to appear in concert just down the hall in the Convention Center concert hall. Elton John had brought his one-man show to Tulsa, appearing alone with only his piano. I had seen Elton before with his full band in tow and it was a spectacular concert.
Everyone knew Elton had made appearances for the Ryan White Foundation, and as a gay man himself had supported many of the AIDS related charities. Quietly, we were anticipating some good luck and the chance to meet Elton.
As the day and afternoon wore on, it became apparent that Elton would not make it to the display, but we still had some good luck as far as his concert. The show had been sold out for a long time. I was unable to get tickets. But, late that afternoon, the tour manager came to the display and told Larry’s daughter they had moved the stage and equipment freeing up quite a few seats on the floor. He offered those seats to the workers for only $50 per seat. WE reacted quickly! A chance to see Elton John in this sold out show and from the floor, no less.
As the display shut down, we made our way to the concert. We were seated some 25 rows away from the stage. A great place for seeing and hearing the show! I ran to the concession for Ash and while there ran into my nephew Brian. He had managed to get tickets in the nosebleed sections, back of the auditorium and had paid $150 dollars for his seat.
Needless to say, Elton and his piano were tremendous! “Rocket Man,” “Tiny Dancer” and “Good bye Yellow Brick Road”… all his great hits one after the other.
Sure, it was a case of being in the right place at the right time, but I like to think it was something a little more too.
Good Karma. What goes around, comes around.
Friday, December 18, 2009
should have beena rock and roll star- Living in the past
Living in the Past
Funny, as I write this note about people who are stuck in the music of their high school years that I would choose an old Jethro Tull song as the theme.
But, when I turn on the radio today, the airwaves are so segregated… so sterile. Between the music channels (so-called) on TV and the radio, there is more music we miss than we hear. The music TV stations, in-between their gut wrenchingly idiotic reality shows, they sometimes manage to play a few videos. But, groups come and so quickly there, as the stations try to be on the crest of whatever wave may be gathering its tsunami type strength to wash across the youth of the world. In the process, those stations drop last year’s bands, even if they are still making good music as if they were last week’s boyfriend.
The Radio isn’t much better. The stations, mostly controlled by a small group of corporations who own broadcasting across a wide scope of music genres in order to maximize their advertising dollars and marketing ability, safely crank out predictable play lists. There is an oldies station, an ‘edgy” station, a country station and an Rand B/ hip hop station, which are all governed by strict play lists in order to avoid antagonizing advertisers and appeal to the widest group possible.
There is nothing new and risky on the air. The play lists are careful to fit within demographic borders so airtime can be effectively sold to potential sponsors. It makes it an easy sale when a marketing person can state that the listening group is composed of 70% white middle class listeners between the ages of 30 and 50.
That said, my rant comes from frustration at the inability to find music. Bands disappear form play lists long before they are shuffled off the recording labels. Long time performers still manage to hold on to a dedicated fan base but without the help of radio or television. The listening fan has to search to find new releases.
A few examples….. Take Neil Young, the long time often genre morphing musician who has been making music, touring and selling since his stints in the 60’s with Buffalo Springfield, time with Crosby, Stills and Nash and a long fruitful solo career. Young was called the Grandfather of Grunge. He released a steaming anti-war protest album in the last year of the Bush administration called “Living With War.” He is a still productive member of the Rock and Roll hall of Fame.
Now, where would you look for his newest releases on the airwaves? He released an album this past year called “Fork IN the Road.” I never heard a single song on the radio or saw a single video on the music TV channels.
Has Neil Young been ostracized? Does his new music suck the big one? Is he a pretending fossil?
Nope. Neil can still blow the roof off the performing hall. His screeching guitar solos and encyclopedic catalog still rattle the bones and freeze the blood, but Neil, along with others of his generation, have found the gap in the 21st century radio play lists. “Mind the Gap” the signs say in the London tube, but Young, Todd Rundgren, Styx, Journey and others who are still putting out fresh new music have slid off the sidewalk and into the darkness,
They do not play them on the new edgy music stations regardless of the message in the song, cleverness of lyric or catchiness of the music. They are too “OLD.” They do not play these songs on the oldies or 70’s stations because something that came out in 2009 is not an oldie song regardless of the gray whiskers on their chin. They are a music condemned to the misty purgatory of radio and TV Neverland. They are a tune without a country. They are a song without a listener.
It brings up the modern musical Zen Koan… if a song gets played and no one ever gets to hear it, does it really exist?
Sure, I blame the advertisers and soulless programmers of chain radio and TV stations. I also blame my generation of listeners. So many are mired in the comfortable past that they never stray out of the confines of the tunes that got them through high school.
Not too long ago, I went to see Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey tear up the BOK Concert Hall in Oklahoma City. They played their old favorite from “My Generation” to “Behind Blue Eyes” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” The Who were touring to support a new album, “Endless Wire”, their first of new material in almost 20 years.
While the applause was deafening for the old classics, the new tunes were politely, yet less eagerly applauded. I imagine the great majority of concertgoers hadn’t even heard the CD and many may not have even known of its existence. It was a very well done collection; originally based upon a rock opera Pete had planned called “The Boy Who Could Hear Music.”
Of course, their failure to hear the CD was their own loss. But, I never heard any station, old or new play any of the many cuts that were seminal Who songs on that collection.
Not to say anything negative about Lynard Skynard, but how many times can someone listen to “Sweet Home Alabama?” As much as I like Billy Gibbons bluesy guitar, how often do I want to sit through “Tush?” The play lists of the oldies stations are stagnant with repetition. It is as if they have bec9ome the comfortable background Muzak that requires no thought and no real attention. It is the facade that we are still “Rockin.’” But, it is all smoke and mirrors. It is pretend.
Don’t get me wrong. I can’t think of an era with greater music than the 70’s, but even Beethoven went on to other works after the 5th Symphony. If there had been oldies radio around when he aged, he might have wished whatever last vestiges of hearing he had would disappear after the umpteenth millionth time he heard the strains of “Dit Dit Dit Dah!” rattle out as the only memento of his amazing career.
Radio in my youth was a varied thing. As I did my weekend jobs, I could hear everything from Diana Ross and the Supremes to Steppenwolf. I would hear “Hey Jude” and then “Little Green Apples.” I knew the words to Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” just as I did to Zep’s “Stairway To Heaven.” It is that no longer. Radio has become a dish of one spice. This station is salt, and that one is pepper. There is no Oregano on 101.3, and no garlic on “The Edge!”
Like a mass produced burger, it is a tasteless lump which could just as easily been made of Styrofoam, squeezed from a Playdough machine.
Ugh!!!
First….It’s time for a revolution! Imagine what sales would do if the older buying public had actually heard that My Chemical Romance sounded a lot like Queen on “The Black Parade?” Would more people buy Greeen Day if they heard the early bands like the Clash and The Dead Milkmen that paved their way? Seems to me the music companies have something to gain by influencing the radio and TV stations to play a wider range of music. It’s something that would pull our dead asses off the couch and up to find some new tunes that speak to us, enliven us and make us want to tap our foot and wail off key to a new song in our car!
The second issue is this…. Baby Boomers and Post Baby Boomers…I’m sorry but high school was not the best time of your life. I teach high school. I know! The music was great, yes! But there has been plenty of great music since then too. Get out of that cocoon and actually listen to something new instead of just asking your son, nephew of grand daughter to “turn that frickin’ noise down!!” They know what the new stuff is, and believe it or not…. And my sons would collapse if they heard me say this… a little rap never killed any one. In fact, for we die hard rock fans, people have been mixing it with great results in bands like “The Beastie Boys,” Lil Wayne” and “Street Sweeper Social Club.” Whining guitars and a rap vocal line!
Third, we have got to save our newest generations from the ongoing sterilization of music. The beginning of the dirge about radios fall from grace goes back a couple decades. Rush eulogized radio in “The Spirit of Radio.” Queen followed with “Radio Gaga” and Elvis Costello with “Radio Radio.” They missed the days when radio was something more than a corporate tool. Like the Ravyns song, ‘Raised on the Radio,” “I was an all American boys and I found my favorite toy! I was raised on the radio!”
There are way too many kids who have such a narrow interest in specific music genres. They don’t listen to this one or that one. They listen to a specific music style station on the radio, or the specialized ones on satellite, or the playlist on their MP3 player.
They must be saved from homogenized music.
Going way back to Jethro Tull, and one of their last LPs of the 70’s, more and more as I continue to cultivate that growing gray beard, I do believe in the lyrics of their song that says “You’re never too old to rock and roll if you’re too young to die!”
Funny, as I write this note about people who are stuck in the music of their high school years that I would choose an old Jethro Tull song as the theme.
But, when I turn on the radio today, the airwaves are so segregated… so sterile. Between the music channels (so-called) on TV and the radio, there is more music we miss than we hear. The music TV stations, in-between their gut wrenchingly idiotic reality shows, they sometimes manage to play a few videos. But, groups come and so quickly there, as the stations try to be on the crest of whatever wave may be gathering its tsunami type strength to wash across the youth of the world. In the process, those stations drop last year’s bands, even if they are still making good music as if they were last week’s boyfriend.
The Radio isn’t much better. The stations, mostly controlled by a small group of corporations who own broadcasting across a wide scope of music genres in order to maximize their advertising dollars and marketing ability, safely crank out predictable play lists. There is an oldies station, an ‘edgy” station, a country station and an Rand B/ hip hop station, which are all governed by strict play lists in order to avoid antagonizing advertisers and appeal to the widest group possible.
There is nothing new and risky on the air. The play lists are careful to fit within demographic borders so airtime can be effectively sold to potential sponsors. It makes it an easy sale when a marketing person can state that the listening group is composed of 70% white middle class listeners between the ages of 30 and 50.
That said, my rant comes from frustration at the inability to find music. Bands disappear form play lists long before they are shuffled off the recording labels. Long time performers still manage to hold on to a dedicated fan base but without the help of radio or television. The listening fan has to search to find new releases.
A few examples….. Take Neil Young, the long time often genre morphing musician who has been making music, touring and selling since his stints in the 60’s with Buffalo Springfield, time with Crosby, Stills and Nash and a long fruitful solo career. Young was called the Grandfather of Grunge. He released a steaming anti-war protest album in the last year of the Bush administration called “Living With War.” He is a still productive member of the Rock and Roll hall of Fame.
Now, where would you look for his newest releases on the airwaves? He released an album this past year called “Fork IN the Road.” I never heard a single song on the radio or saw a single video on the music TV channels.
Has Neil Young been ostracized? Does his new music suck the big one? Is he a pretending fossil?
Nope. Neil can still blow the roof off the performing hall. His screeching guitar solos and encyclopedic catalog still rattle the bones and freeze the blood, but Neil, along with others of his generation, have found the gap in the 21st century radio play lists. “Mind the Gap” the signs say in the London tube, but Young, Todd Rundgren, Styx, Journey and others who are still putting out fresh new music have slid off the sidewalk and into the darkness,
They do not play them on the new edgy music stations regardless of the message in the song, cleverness of lyric or catchiness of the music. They are too “OLD.” They do not play these songs on the oldies or 70’s stations because something that came out in 2009 is not an oldie song regardless of the gray whiskers on their chin. They are a music condemned to the misty purgatory of radio and TV Neverland. They are a tune without a country. They are a song without a listener.
It brings up the modern musical Zen Koan… if a song gets played and no one ever gets to hear it, does it really exist?
Sure, I blame the advertisers and soulless programmers of chain radio and TV stations. I also blame my generation of listeners. So many are mired in the comfortable past that they never stray out of the confines of the tunes that got them through high school.
Not too long ago, I went to see Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey tear up the BOK Concert Hall in Oklahoma City. They played their old favorite from “My Generation” to “Behind Blue Eyes” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” The Who were touring to support a new album, “Endless Wire”, their first of new material in almost 20 years.
While the applause was deafening for the old classics, the new tunes were politely, yet less eagerly applauded. I imagine the great majority of concertgoers hadn’t even heard the CD and many may not have even known of its existence. It was a very well done collection; originally based upon a rock opera Pete had planned called “The Boy Who Could Hear Music.”
Of course, their failure to hear the CD was their own loss. But, I never heard any station, old or new play any of the many cuts that were seminal Who songs on that collection.
Not to say anything negative about Lynard Skynard, but how many times can someone listen to “Sweet Home Alabama?” As much as I like Billy Gibbons bluesy guitar, how often do I want to sit through “Tush?” The play lists of the oldies stations are stagnant with repetition. It is as if they have bec9ome the comfortable background Muzak that requires no thought and no real attention. It is the facade that we are still “Rockin.’” But, it is all smoke and mirrors. It is pretend.
Don’t get me wrong. I can’t think of an era with greater music than the 70’s, but even Beethoven went on to other works after the 5th Symphony. If there had been oldies radio around when he aged, he might have wished whatever last vestiges of hearing he had would disappear after the umpteenth millionth time he heard the strains of “Dit Dit Dit Dah!” rattle out as the only memento of his amazing career.
Radio in my youth was a varied thing. As I did my weekend jobs, I could hear everything from Diana Ross and the Supremes to Steppenwolf. I would hear “Hey Jude” and then “Little Green Apples.” I knew the words to Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” just as I did to Zep’s “Stairway To Heaven.” It is that no longer. Radio has become a dish of one spice. This station is salt, and that one is pepper. There is no Oregano on 101.3, and no garlic on “The Edge!”
Like a mass produced burger, it is a tasteless lump which could just as easily been made of Styrofoam, squeezed from a Playdough machine.
Ugh!!!
First….It’s time for a revolution! Imagine what sales would do if the older buying public had actually heard that My Chemical Romance sounded a lot like Queen on “The Black Parade?” Would more people buy Greeen Day if they heard the early bands like the Clash and The Dead Milkmen that paved their way? Seems to me the music companies have something to gain by influencing the radio and TV stations to play a wider range of music. It’s something that would pull our dead asses off the couch and up to find some new tunes that speak to us, enliven us and make us want to tap our foot and wail off key to a new song in our car!
The second issue is this…. Baby Boomers and Post Baby Boomers…I’m sorry but high school was not the best time of your life. I teach high school. I know! The music was great, yes! But there has been plenty of great music since then too. Get out of that cocoon and actually listen to something new instead of just asking your son, nephew of grand daughter to “turn that frickin’ noise down!!” They know what the new stuff is, and believe it or not…. And my sons would collapse if they heard me say this… a little rap never killed any one. In fact, for we die hard rock fans, people have been mixing it with great results in bands like “The Beastie Boys,” Lil Wayne” and “Street Sweeper Social Club.” Whining guitars and a rap vocal line!
Third, we have got to save our newest generations from the ongoing sterilization of music. The beginning of the dirge about radios fall from grace goes back a couple decades. Rush eulogized radio in “The Spirit of Radio.” Queen followed with “Radio Gaga” and Elvis Costello with “Radio Radio.” They missed the days when radio was something more than a corporate tool. Like the Ravyns song, ‘Raised on the Radio,” “I was an all American boys and I found my favorite toy! I was raised on the radio!”
There are way too many kids who have such a narrow interest in specific music genres. They don’t listen to this one or that one. They listen to a specific music style station on the radio, or the specialized ones on satellite, or the playlist on their MP3 player.
They must be saved from homogenized music.
Going way back to Jethro Tull, and one of their last LPs of the 70’s, more and more as I continue to cultivate that growing gray beard, I do believe in the lyrics of their song that says “You’re never too old to rock and roll if you’re too young to die!”
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Zen music moment- Take me home Country Road
In the Fall of 1974, I had just finished a football season and nearly the first semester of my freshman year at Sterling College. The season was an awakening for we freshmen,, changing from the high school first teamers to the college new guys.
It was time both hard of the ego and hard on us both physically and mentally.
Everybody hit hard there. Everyone had been the high school star. We soddenly became just one of the team instead of the Go-To guy.
There were a few freshmen from Oklahoma on that team, including myself, another big D lineman b]named Sammy Hankins and a defensive back named Steve Childress.
Sammy was clumsy, big, goofy and seemed to be doing OK with the transition. I had my moments of despair and loneliness. I was homesick, beaten and bruised, and unsure. I went from a Valedictorian at a small high school to kid kind of lost in my college classes. Never had to really study hard before. never was without a starting position on a football team before since 9ht grade football.
Steve was a lot like me in that respect. He came from the small town of Okemah. I'm sure that Steve, a pretty good athlete, handsome with shoulder length hair and a great smile, must have been the pride of the Okemah football team. He struggled a little with the authority in Sterling football, but that was probably because his world was a little shaken, like mine.
But even with those Tom Cruise looks and long straight hair that gave him sort of a gladiator appearance, he was as home sick as was I.
At Thanksgiving break, Steve and I, along with a freshman basketball player from central Oklahoma, loaded into Bessie the wonder car and began a drive home for the holiday. WE drove about 5 hours to Kenny's house in another small own before heading east towards Okemah. It was dark. The road was long and lonely. The only thing we had was the shifting raido stations as we crossed the central Oklahoma plains.
As we drove closer to Okemah, passing familiar sights for Steve, the anticipation of getting home grew worse. It did for me too. I had added about 4 extra hours on to my trip by giving these two guys a ride... but that was OK. They were buddies.
In the darkness of that November night, through the crackling speakers in my '70 Ford maverick, John Denver sang "Country Road" for us.
Being a college football player required a facade of toughness and cockiness. And, when things are difficult and your heart is weak, it becomes a battle to avoid showing weakness or pain. In fact, smart ass remarks and aggressive behaviors replace that and protect you from revealing the true feelings.
AS the words to the songs filled the car, Steve, unable to hold back the pent up emotion, frustration and homesickness burst into tears. His body shuddered with the release.
"I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
and driving down this road I get the feeling
that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday...."
sat awkwardly. Unsure what to do, or if my sympathies would violate that toughness we had to present. But, I knew and I understood. I grieved with him.
Steve didn't return for the sophomore year at Sterling. He moved on and like so many others, I thought he might just become a memory of another time.
I completed college and then when applying for teaching and coaching jobs my first year out of college, I put in an application at the small school of Oilton, Oklahoma. I interviewed with the superintendent and waited for his call. When he called me, he offered me the job. He told me that the thing that made his decision was he had spoken to his son in law about the interviews and mentioned my name. The son in law, Steve Childress had told him I was a good guy.
I still think of Steve every time I hear that song. Not the hurting, upset and home sick Steve, because i know we all shared that feeling, whether we spoke of it or not. I still see him standing on the Kansas football field, hands on hips, cocky ass smile on his face, wind blowing his hair as he spit tobacco juice.
That's the Steve I remember.
It was time both hard of the ego and hard on us both physically and mentally.
Everybody hit hard there. Everyone had been the high school star. We soddenly became just one of the team instead of the Go-To guy.
There were a few freshmen from Oklahoma on that team, including myself, another big D lineman b]named Sammy Hankins and a defensive back named Steve Childress.
Sammy was clumsy, big, goofy and seemed to be doing OK with the transition. I had my moments of despair and loneliness. I was homesick, beaten and bruised, and unsure. I went from a Valedictorian at a small high school to kid kind of lost in my college classes. Never had to really study hard before. never was without a starting position on a football team before since 9ht grade football.
Steve was a lot like me in that respect. He came from the small town of Okemah. I'm sure that Steve, a pretty good athlete, handsome with shoulder length hair and a great smile, must have been the pride of the Okemah football team. He struggled a little with the authority in Sterling football, but that was probably because his world was a little shaken, like mine.
But even with those Tom Cruise looks and long straight hair that gave him sort of a gladiator appearance, he was as home sick as was I.
At Thanksgiving break, Steve and I, along with a freshman basketball player from central Oklahoma, loaded into Bessie the wonder car and began a drive home for the holiday. WE drove about 5 hours to Kenny's house in another small own before heading east towards Okemah. It was dark. The road was long and lonely. The only thing we had was the shifting raido stations as we crossed the central Oklahoma plains.
As we drove closer to Okemah, passing familiar sights for Steve, the anticipation of getting home grew worse. It did for me too. I had added about 4 extra hours on to my trip by giving these two guys a ride... but that was OK. They were buddies.
In the darkness of that November night, through the crackling speakers in my '70 Ford maverick, John Denver sang "Country Road" for us.
Being a college football player required a facade of toughness and cockiness. And, when things are difficult and your heart is weak, it becomes a battle to avoid showing weakness or pain. In fact, smart ass remarks and aggressive behaviors replace that and protect you from revealing the true feelings.
AS the words to the songs filled the car, Steve, unable to hold back the pent up emotion, frustration and homesickness burst into tears. His body shuddered with the release.
"I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
and driving down this road I get the feeling
that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday...."
sat awkwardly. Unsure what to do, or if my sympathies would violate that toughness we had to present. But, I knew and I understood. I grieved with him.
Steve didn't return for the sophomore year at Sterling. He moved on and like so many others, I thought he might just become a memory of another time.
I completed college and then when applying for teaching and coaching jobs my first year out of college, I put in an application at the small school of Oilton, Oklahoma. I interviewed with the superintendent and waited for his call. When he called me, he offered me the job. He told me that the thing that made his decision was he had spoken to his son in law about the interviews and mentioned my name. The son in law, Steve Childress had told him I was a good guy.
I still think of Steve every time I hear that song. Not the hurting, upset and home sick Steve, because i know we all shared that feeling, whether we spoke of it or not. I still see him standing on the Kansas football field, hands on hips, cocky ass smile on his face, wind blowing his hair as he spit tobacco juice.
That's the Steve I remember.
Friday, November 20, 2009
should ahve been a rock star- 80's songs that don't suck
Eighties songs that don’t suck
OK… I admit that a lot of the music of the eighties is equivalent to the French Rococo art style. Frivolous, pointless and gaudy. To get rid of that, French peasants ran amok, burned, looted and generally started a revolution. Ok, that is simplifying the French revolution a little, but…..a good listen to the typical 80’s play list would give you the idea.
Now, I know stereotyping is wrong and saying all 80’s music sucks is a n unfair generality. It didn’t. There were the consistent performers, many of who had started their careers in the 70’s and 60’s who still cranked out some impressive music during the 80’s. But, the advent of MTV definitely threw a curveball at the pop music genre. Pre-video channel, it didn’t take a pretty boy to crank out a fantastic guitar solo (see Jimi) or a beautiful woman to get a number one hit, ala Janis Joplin. The faces on video brought in a while new emphasis on the music.
OK. 80’s music is diverse in some ways. There were still remnants of the 70’s punk movement who even managed to get on MTV despite their less than charming looks. The Clash rocked the Kasbah and gave birth to a new movement of music, the New Wave that borrowed heavily from 70’s punk with a touch of early 60’s garage band influence mixed in. It produced a few better dressed, but still snarling musicians such as Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson and the Pretenders.
Late 60’s and 70’s heavy metal still survived, but took a fashion twist from the glam rock of the 70’s. David Bowie gave birth to spandex, long hair metal. Def Leppard, Poison, White Snake, and Guns n’ Roses ground out the decibels album after album for those more inclined to feel their ears bleed with a melodic metal sledge hammer.
The giants of music played on. Billy Joel and Elton John had video hits hat played often. Even ex-Beatles McCartney, Lennon and Harrison graced the music channels. U2 gained more and more momentum throughout the 80’s to become one of the biggest bands in the world.
Stiil, those bands are not who wee think of when we consider the music of the 80’s. It had a peculiar sound. There was synthesizer. There was an influx of dance music. The 80’s took Glam, romanticism, synthesizers and video to create something that while not always lasting, served at least as a temporary distraction for a fascinated TV crowd.
The true 80’s sound was like the old cliché’ about Chinese food. Listen to it and an hour later you’re hungry again. It was not truly filling or satisfying in most cases. It was Milli Vanilli. It was Soft Cell and “tainted Love.” It was Spandau Ballet and OMD. It was ABC and Bananarama. It was Boy George in drag with Culture Club and The Cure singing “Friday I’m in Love.”
Thomas Dolby Blinded Us With Science” and Duran Duran dressed the part of the new romantics and sang about “Rio.” The icing on the 80’s sound was Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Flock of Seagulls, and the Human League.
They all had hits. And for some reason, no matter how much I wanted to know what I had to do to “Wang Chung” tonight, I just could not see most of that music as permanent and lasting.
Some of the music definitely did not suck. The 80’s were gracious enough to give us some thoughtful gems and quirky experiments. The Talking heads twisted our brains with lyrics both hard to decipher and seemingly meaningless. The Police introduced a whole new population to Reggae music. Reggae fests soon began to appear everywhere.
PatBenetar could belt out a song, just as could Cindi Lauper. Elvis Costello turned out to be quite the wordsmith. Prince cut out a niche as a great musician and songwriter despite the fact he took the stage in a G-string in his early days. Madonna has definitely become a music icon in her own right, if not for her music then her ability to recreate herself over and over.
I could never list AHA’s “Take on Me” or Kajagoogoo’s “Too Shy” in my top 80’s sound list, and would probably not be seen dead at their concert despite the fact I let myself be talked into going to an 80s’s concert in which Flock of Seagulls performed. The shame!
Ok… so my list of 80’s sound music that does not suck follows….
1. Church of the Poison Mind- Culture Club
2. Burning Down the House – the Talking Heads
3. When Doves Cry by Prince
4. Melt with you- Modern English
5. Life in a Northern Town- Dream Academy
6. From a Whisper to a Scream- Icicle Works
7. Blister in the Sun- Violent Femmes
8. We’ve Got the Beat – the Go Gos
9. Eternal Flame – the Bangles
10. I Don’t Like Mondays- Boomtown Rats
11. Money Changes Everything- Cindi Lauper
12. Pink Houses – John Mellencamp
13. Steam – Peter Gabriel
14. Sister Christian – Night Ranger
15. Losing M Religion – REM
16. Tempted – The Squeeze
17. Shout – Tears For Fears
18. Jenny 867-5309 – Tommy Tutone
19. Whole Wide World – Wreckless Eric
20. Total Eclipse of the Heart – Bonnie Tyler
21. Turning Japanese- the Vapors
22. Voices carry – Til Tuesday
23. Beds are Burning – Midnight Oil
24. Fake Plastic Trees- Radiohead
25. White Wedding – Billy Idol
Now, there are some songs that are identified as the 80's but actually released in the 70's. I excluded those. Elvis Cosstello's great LP, "My Aim is True" contains the song Allison. Joe Jackson's "Look Sharp" with "Is She Really Going Out With Him," the Knack's "My Sharona" and the 80's and MTV classic "Video Killed the Radio Star " by the Buggles. "Video" was released just 3 months before 1980. It did go on to be the theme of a new video music generation.
Now, a lot of these people have multiple songs that don’t suck. And. , a lot of artists had great tunes, but most of the had sounds that were not 80’s sounds. They were the bands who started in another era and continued through this desert without many musical oasis.
Sure, there were bands that sucked in other eras. The 80’s has no monopoly on that. It just seems that the advent of the music video brought a lot of groups to the screen who fit the look, and seemed more manufactured than the bands of the 70’s or 80’s.
That Fact was illustrated by the Video by BLues Traveler, in which a visual band, headed by a thin singer and cool looking musicians lip synced on stage while the real band, fronted by the more than ample JohnPopper played behind a screen.
Ah... the 80's.
OK… I admit that a lot of the music of the eighties is equivalent to the French Rococo art style. Frivolous, pointless and gaudy. To get rid of that, French peasants ran amok, burned, looted and generally started a revolution. Ok, that is simplifying the French revolution a little, but…..a good listen to the typical 80’s play list would give you the idea.
Now, I know stereotyping is wrong and saying all 80’s music sucks is a n unfair generality. It didn’t. There were the consistent performers, many of who had started their careers in the 70’s and 60’s who still cranked out some impressive music during the 80’s. But, the advent of MTV definitely threw a curveball at the pop music genre. Pre-video channel, it didn’t take a pretty boy to crank out a fantastic guitar solo (see Jimi) or a beautiful woman to get a number one hit, ala Janis Joplin. The faces on video brought in a while new emphasis on the music.
OK. 80’s music is diverse in some ways. There were still remnants of the 70’s punk movement who even managed to get on MTV despite their less than charming looks. The Clash rocked the Kasbah and gave birth to a new movement of music, the New Wave that borrowed heavily from 70’s punk with a touch of early 60’s garage band influence mixed in. It produced a few better dressed, but still snarling musicians such as Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson and the Pretenders.
Late 60’s and 70’s heavy metal still survived, but took a fashion twist from the glam rock of the 70’s. David Bowie gave birth to spandex, long hair metal. Def Leppard, Poison, White Snake, and Guns n’ Roses ground out the decibels album after album for those more inclined to feel their ears bleed with a melodic metal sledge hammer.
The giants of music played on. Billy Joel and Elton John had video hits hat played often. Even ex-Beatles McCartney, Lennon and Harrison graced the music channels. U2 gained more and more momentum throughout the 80’s to become one of the biggest bands in the world.
Stiil, those bands are not who wee think of when we consider the music of the 80’s. It had a peculiar sound. There was synthesizer. There was an influx of dance music. The 80’s took Glam, romanticism, synthesizers and video to create something that while not always lasting, served at least as a temporary distraction for a fascinated TV crowd.
The true 80’s sound was like the old cliché’ about Chinese food. Listen to it and an hour later you’re hungry again. It was not truly filling or satisfying in most cases. It was Milli Vanilli. It was Soft Cell and “tainted Love.” It was Spandau Ballet and OMD. It was ABC and Bananarama. It was Boy George in drag with Culture Club and The Cure singing “Friday I’m in Love.”
Thomas Dolby Blinded Us With Science” and Duran Duran dressed the part of the new romantics and sang about “Rio.” The icing on the 80’s sound was Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Flock of Seagulls, and the Human League.
They all had hits. And for some reason, no matter how much I wanted to know what I had to do to “Wang Chung” tonight, I just could not see most of that music as permanent and lasting.
Some of the music definitely did not suck. The 80’s were gracious enough to give us some thoughtful gems and quirky experiments. The Talking heads twisted our brains with lyrics both hard to decipher and seemingly meaningless. The Police introduced a whole new population to Reggae music. Reggae fests soon began to appear everywhere.
PatBenetar could belt out a song, just as could Cindi Lauper. Elvis Costello turned out to be quite the wordsmith. Prince cut out a niche as a great musician and songwriter despite the fact he took the stage in a G-string in his early days. Madonna has definitely become a music icon in her own right, if not for her music then her ability to recreate herself over and over.
I could never list AHA’s “Take on Me” or Kajagoogoo’s “Too Shy” in my top 80’s sound list, and would probably not be seen dead at their concert despite the fact I let myself be talked into going to an 80s’s concert in which Flock of Seagulls performed. The shame!
Ok… so my list of 80’s sound music that does not suck follows….
1. Church of the Poison Mind- Culture Club
2. Burning Down the House – the Talking Heads
3. When Doves Cry by Prince
4. Melt with you- Modern English
5. Life in a Northern Town- Dream Academy
6. From a Whisper to a Scream- Icicle Works
7. Blister in the Sun- Violent Femmes
8. We’ve Got the Beat – the Go Gos
9. Eternal Flame – the Bangles
10. I Don’t Like Mondays- Boomtown Rats
11. Money Changes Everything- Cindi Lauper
12. Pink Houses – John Mellencamp
13. Steam – Peter Gabriel
14. Sister Christian – Night Ranger
15. Losing M Religion – REM
16. Tempted – The Squeeze
17. Shout – Tears For Fears
18. Jenny 867-5309 – Tommy Tutone
19. Whole Wide World – Wreckless Eric
20. Total Eclipse of the Heart – Bonnie Tyler
21. Turning Japanese- the Vapors
22. Voices carry – Til Tuesday
23. Beds are Burning – Midnight Oil
24. Fake Plastic Trees- Radiohead
25. White Wedding – Billy Idol
Now, there are some songs that are identified as the 80's but actually released in the 70's. I excluded those. Elvis Cosstello's great LP, "My Aim is True" contains the song Allison. Joe Jackson's "Look Sharp" with "Is She Really Going Out With Him," the Knack's "My Sharona" and the 80's and MTV classic "Video Killed the Radio Star " by the Buggles. "Video" was released just 3 months before 1980. It did go on to be the theme of a new video music generation.
Now, a lot of these people have multiple songs that don’t suck. And. , a lot of artists had great tunes, but most of the had sounds that were not 80’s sounds. They were the bands who started in another era and continued through this desert without many musical oasis.
Sure, there were bands that sucked in other eras. The 80’s has no monopoly on that. It just seems that the advent of the music video brought a lot of groups to the screen who fit the look, and seemed more manufactured than the bands of the 70’s or 80’s.
That Fact was illustrated by the Video by BLues Traveler, in which a visual band, headed by a thin singer and cool looking musicians lip synced on stage while the real band, fronted by the more than ample JohnPopper played behind a screen.
Ah... the 80's.
Zen Music Moment - Changes
Zen Music moment
I sat in the small Pizza King restaurant in Lyons Kansas. The overhead fluorescent lights gave a bluish hue to everything. Late, and tired, I was bushed. My first year of college football and the practices were killing me. I had been used to being the big dog in high school, but now I was getting pounded daily. I was trying to adjust to college classes, and it was a new thing. High school had been way too easy for me.
In the small town of Sterling, there was very little to do after the evening rolled in. Late, after study, or goofing off, a few of us discovered the pizza place from some of the local guys. It was a 15 minute drive from Sterling to Lyons, and there we sat, waiting on hot pizza and Coca Cola. We let the frustration of being a freshman, confused and bewildered, slide away with something familiar. The jukebox played and we watched the pretty Lyons high school girls waitress.
I have this memory, of myself and friend and future room mate Terry Brady, sitting there, elbows propped on the plastic red and white checkerboard tablecloth. The new song that played over the jukebox seemed very appropriate to me. David Bowie’s “Changes.”
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time
Changes seemed to be washing over me like waves on the beach. Yes, it was a small college and in a small town, but suddenly I was outside the comfort zone, and an unknown. The coaches didn’t know me from any other freshman. The professors didn’t know my reputation as a good student and I was a little homesick and beaten.
Things were changing.
I thought I had to keep up the facade of being brave, tough and a football stud while daily I actually felt lost, beaten and alone. The new friends I made, including Terry, helped to soothe that feeling of displacement and fear. We were comrades, me, Terry, Mack, Don, Greg, Sammy , John and others who all started as a high school football standout and now began life again at the bottom of the food chain. We bonded from common experience and common situation.
But, there at Pizza King, as the pretty blond waitress named Dixie waited on us, for a just a few moments, Bowie’s song washed over us. Thoughtful, listening to the words and another day of challenge waited outside the door, more changes would have to wait for another slice of pepperoni and a glass of Coke.
I sat in the small Pizza King restaurant in Lyons Kansas. The overhead fluorescent lights gave a bluish hue to everything. Late, and tired, I was bushed. My first year of college football and the practices were killing me. I had been used to being the big dog in high school, but now I was getting pounded daily. I was trying to adjust to college classes, and it was a new thing. High school had been way too easy for me.
In the small town of Sterling, there was very little to do after the evening rolled in. Late, after study, or goofing off, a few of us discovered the pizza place from some of the local guys. It was a 15 minute drive from Sterling to Lyons, and there we sat, waiting on hot pizza and Coca Cola. We let the frustration of being a freshman, confused and bewildered, slide away with something familiar. The jukebox played and we watched the pretty Lyons high school girls waitress.
I have this memory, of myself and friend and future room mate Terry Brady, sitting there, elbows propped on the plastic red and white checkerboard tablecloth. The new song that played over the jukebox seemed very appropriate to me. David Bowie’s “Changes.”
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time
Changes seemed to be washing over me like waves on the beach. Yes, it was a small college and in a small town, but suddenly I was outside the comfort zone, and an unknown. The coaches didn’t know me from any other freshman. The professors didn’t know my reputation as a good student and I was a little homesick and beaten.
Things were changing.
I thought I had to keep up the facade of being brave, tough and a football stud while daily I actually felt lost, beaten and alone. The new friends I made, including Terry, helped to soothe that feeling of displacement and fear. We were comrades, me, Terry, Mack, Don, Greg, Sammy , John and others who all started as a high school football standout and now began life again at the bottom of the food chain. We bonded from common experience and common situation.
But, there at Pizza King, as the pretty blond waitress named Dixie waited on us, for a just a few moments, Bowie’s song washed over us. Thoughtful, listening to the words and another day of challenge waited outside the door, more changes would have to wait for another slice of pepperoni and a glass of Coke.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
