Today would have been the 70th birthday for John Winston (Ono) Lennon. October 9th of 2010.
Yesterday at school, with the thought of his approaching birthday, I had my IPOD set on a shuffle of Lennon tunes. They always bring me back to another era and situation, each song tied to some memory or event that made up the early listening years of my life. And even now, driving the car, “Power to The People” still stirs that rebellious political side of me. “Love” still makes me hope that truly all we do need is love. “Instant karma” connects me to a bigger universe in which we do all shine on.
I always had a ricochet love affair with Lennon and McCartney. As a kid, my siblings and I watched the Beatles cartoons, each of us adopting one of the personas to sing along with. I was drawn to Paul and his carefree like happy songs. As I grew older, John’s music spoke more loudly to me. Although I still loved the idea behind Paul’s usually optimistic music, his “Silly Love Songs” as an angry Lennon would alter call them, John’s raw emotion about conflict and self doubt spoke to me as I emerged into the real world.
“Help” and “Nowhere Man” portray a man weighed down by self doubt. “Imagine” and “Give peace a Chance” provided anthems for a people who wanted a better world. He bared his soul and his dirty laundry in his music, even displaying his struggles with addiction in “Cold Turkey” or fame in “God.”
He was brash and impulsive. It was his 1965 statement; made flippantly to a reporter he thought was a friend that triggered Beatles Lp burnings in the south of the U.S.A. “We’re more popular than Jesus” he had quipped after hearing how many people had attended the Sunday Beatles performance.
IT was that statement that made my Dad, a Southern Baptist deacon, tell me, “I don’t want you to buy any albums by the Beatles.” That was one of the few rules my father had that I actually and secretly circumvented, even to the point of when taken to a new store, Tim, my brother, and I bought an older LP called “Something New.” As we tried to sneak it out to the car, we ran into Dad who asked, “What did you buy?”
Innocently, I shrugged and nonchalantly said, “Oh just something new.” His curiosity satisfied, he turned his attention elsewhere. Years later, dad would come into the kitchen where our turntable rested, and there, I was listening to something from the “White Album” he would say, “One thing about the Beatles, I can understand what they’re saying.”
After years of chasing fame and then running form it, John “retired” from the music business in 1975 for the birth of his son Sean. He became house husband, cook and caregiver for his young son. He left the succubus like spotlight for the calmer confines of home at the Dakota apartments in New York City.
He had danced with fame bigger than even Elvis. He had crossed swords with the Nixon administration over deportation and won. He had survived distain for his new wife Yoko as Beatle fans used her as a scapegoat for the breakup of the group.
A missing John Lennon left a void in my music collection and in my hero worship. It wasn’t that I saw him as anywhere near perfect. In fact, it was his flaws that made him what he was and despite those demons, the ideals of peace and love he promoted while tormented by loss and doubts.
In November of 1980, my wishes came true. John and Yoko released a joint album called “Double fantasy.” The album held songs form a new and more mature Lennon. As he said himself, it was an album directed to an older crowd. In his own words, when asked about the LP, he said, "Here I am now, how are you? How's your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Weren't the '70s a drag? Let’s try and make the '80s good"
The opening cut, “(Just Like) Staring Over” began with 3 soft bells in an optimistic contrast to the harsh bells preceding “Mother” years before. IT was just the right tune at just the right time and in just the right spot on the LP. I was excited to hear John back on the radio.
It was the evening of December 8th, just one month after the release of “Double Fantasy” that brought dealt a horrible blow to those last remnants of 60’s and early 70’s concepts of a world of peace and love.
I sat on a couch grading papers while my roommate, Bud Sexson watched Monday night football. I had headphones on, listening to the stereo. Bud shook my knee… saying “Charlie! Charlie! You have to hear this!”
I took off the head phones and listened as Monday Night Football announcer Howard Cosell relayed the news bulletin. John Lennon had just been shot, outside his New York apartment. I was stunned. Who could possibly do this? What would drive someone to commit such a heinous act?
It was only a few moments later that Cosell followed with the sad news that John Lennon was dead. There were few other details at that moment beyond the black and white news of his death.
I was in shock. Suddenly, one of the heroes of my youth had been struck down by an assassin’s bullet.
MY phone rang twice that night. Both times, people close to me who wanted to see if I had heard the news and check on me. The first call came from my then girlfriend, Cas Turner. Cas was in school at Kansas University and had heard of Lennon’s death there. Cas and I are still friends, exchanging e-mails and Facebook news.
The second call came from a student of mine, Ashley Peck. Ashley knew of my Beatle and Lennon obsession. She is the person whom later I would reconnect with while she was in college and eventually marry. Twenty Three years later, we are still married. Over the years she and our two sons have fed my Beatle and Lennon obsession with various related box sets and T shirt gifts.
As Christmas break 1980 approached, Cas drove down from Kansas to visit me. She was already out of classes at K.U. and I had a few days left before the high school broke for the season. That morning, she rode with me as I drove a bus route for an absentee driver. The weather was cold, and the breath of waiting riders rose like steam around them as I pulled the yellow school bus to each stop along the rural route.
The windows were fogged and teeth chattered as young kids in coats and stocking caps trundled through the aisle to sit against each other for collective bogy warmth on the ill heated bus.
Cas sat on the front seat, katty-cornered to my driver’s seat. IT was just as I pulled away from some forgotten stop that the three bells sounded softly over the squeaky bus radio. It was John. And looking back over my shoulder at Cas at that moment, we both smiled because of that song.
He couldn’t have left us with a better sentiment.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
should have been a rock star - naked truth
Rock and roll naked in the backyard
We have a good friend, Susan, who at one time taught at Cascia Hall with my wife. Susan taught French, but always had the dream to make a living as a musician. In fact, at one point, Susan spent time in a French Buddhist monastery, devoting her time to mastering her guitar.
I would always describe Susan as a free spirit. In fact, the first time I heard of her, Ashley called me from work and told me there was a new teacher who looked like Aphrodite. This was Susan, who won a place in Ashley’s heart by asking her, in the hallway, “Where is a place to shit around here?”
Susan and Ash became fast friends. They both shared a love for the edgy and neither believed that there were any taboo topics of conversation.
Susan soon began to get gigs at local restaurants, as a solo musician and her guitar. She played a collection of folky covers, originals and even a few tunes sung in French. We followed her to a few of the places to eat, drink a little wine and listen to Susan play.
Susan was determined to get her music heard, and set up opportunities to play for crowds, including a couple of poetry-music shows at small local venues. Ashley acted as the feature poet at one such outing, even singing a duet with Susan on a poem Ash had written and Susan put to music. It was called “Saturn returns.” I thought it was pretty cool. Ash’s poetry was great and Susan sounded terrific. Susan evne wrote and performed an instrumental called “Grandma’s China” based on a set of China we all ate on at our house. It had belonged to Ash’s grandma and apparently translated into a beautiful musical for Susan. She even performed it at another friend’s wedding.
Susan released a CD of her music. It was pretty good. Her musical roots stretched even further as she did vocals for a jazz band, played an d sang with a rock group, and generally involved herself in a variety of projects. Susan decided to completely devote herself to her music and left teaching for the beautiful but unsteady world of music.
After Susan recorded her second CD, she needed a cover picture. She called Ash and they met at our house for a picture. Susan brought a waterproof camera with the intention of taking underwater photos for the wispy and ethereal effect of the water. The two of them shared a bottle of wine and had started on the second when Susan ditched her clothes and climbed into the pool naked for the photo shoot. Susan had never been one for the conventional, and at our house that was OK> We are pretty laid back, open to almost any situation.
The odd part of this story is this…. When they had finished the photos, as Susan climbed out of the pool naked, was the moment my dear Mom chose to pay a visit to the house. She walked into the backyard to catch full view of the naked Susan in our back yard. I’m in doubt that my Mom’s many years as the song leader at the small Kiefer Baptist church ever really prepared her form this musical experience.
Apparently she survived the shock as did the photos. The cover of Susan;’s CD looks great. Ash got her second credits on a CD cover and Susan continues to play across Oklahoma and Texas. She has a dedicated group of followers and today still continues to be the free spirit that you might expect any Aphrodite to be.
My wife still continues to be my favorite poet and a magician with words.
Me, I still paly air guitar and scream out the lyrics to AC/DC as I drive down the road. At the age of 54, other drivers stare, especially since with no air conditioning in my 20 year old Honda, the windows are down, allowing the rest of the world to be part of my performance too.
And who cares? After all, we all need to stand naked in front of others from time to time.
We have a good friend, Susan, who at one time taught at Cascia Hall with my wife. Susan taught French, but always had the dream to make a living as a musician. In fact, at one point, Susan spent time in a French Buddhist monastery, devoting her time to mastering her guitar.
I would always describe Susan as a free spirit. In fact, the first time I heard of her, Ashley called me from work and told me there was a new teacher who looked like Aphrodite. This was Susan, who won a place in Ashley’s heart by asking her, in the hallway, “Where is a place to shit around here?”
Susan and Ash became fast friends. They both shared a love for the edgy and neither believed that there were any taboo topics of conversation.
Susan soon began to get gigs at local restaurants, as a solo musician and her guitar. She played a collection of folky covers, originals and even a few tunes sung in French. We followed her to a few of the places to eat, drink a little wine and listen to Susan play.
Susan was determined to get her music heard, and set up opportunities to play for crowds, including a couple of poetry-music shows at small local venues. Ashley acted as the feature poet at one such outing, even singing a duet with Susan on a poem Ash had written and Susan put to music. It was called “Saturn returns.” I thought it was pretty cool. Ash’s poetry was great and Susan sounded terrific. Susan evne wrote and performed an instrumental called “Grandma’s China” based on a set of China we all ate on at our house. It had belonged to Ash’s grandma and apparently translated into a beautiful musical for Susan. She even performed it at another friend’s wedding.
Susan released a CD of her music. It was pretty good. Her musical roots stretched even further as she did vocals for a jazz band, played an d sang with a rock group, and generally involved herself in a variety of projects. Susan decided to completely devote herself to her music and left teaching for the beautiful but unsteady world of music.
After Susan recorded her second CD, she needed a cover picture. She called Ash and they met at our house for a picture. Susan brought a waterproof camera with the intention of taking underwater photos for the wispy and ethereal effect of the water. The two of them shared a bottle of wine and had started on the second when Susan ditched her clothes and climbed into the pool naked for the photo shoot. Susan had never been one for the conventional, and at our house that was OK> We are pretty laid back, open to almost any situation.
The odd part of this story is this…. When they had finished the photos, as Susan climbed out of the pool naked, was the moment my dear Mom chose to pay a visit to the house. She walked into the backyard to catch full view of the naked Susan in our back yard. I’m in doubt that my Mom’s many years as the song leader at the small Kiefer Baptist church ever really prepared her form this musical experience.
Apparently she survived the shock as did the photos. The cover of Susan;’s CD looks great. Ash got her second credits on a CD cover and Susan continues to play across Oklahoma and Texas. She has a dedicated group of followers and today still continues to be the free spirit that you might expect any Aphrodite to be.
My wife still continues to be my favorite poet and a magician with words.
Me, I still paly air guitar and scream out the lyrics to AC/DC as I drive down the road. At the age of 54, other drivers stare, especially since with no air conditioning in my 20 year old Honda, the windows are down, allowing the rest of the world to be part of my performance too.
And who cares? After all, we all need to stand naked in front of others from time to time.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Near Misses and big hits
Near Misses and big hits
Two weeks ago, Ashley and I met our friends Larry and Claudia at Tulsa’s kind of upscale shopping area, Utica Square for their summer concert series. Utica Square has “Fifth Night” on which ach Thursday musicians play in a staged area in the streets crisscrossing the mall area. People load up their lawn chairs, ice cheats, dinners or sit at one of the nearby outdoor table restaurants and tune into whatever music is playing that week. People sit. People dance. Kids wander the area. We sat, having a beer and dinner that Claudia packed for us all.
That night, the musicians were a local band, Admiral Twin. They have been around for almost 20 years in one of two different incarnations. I first started listening to them in the early 90’s at a Tulsa club called “Eclipse.” At that time, the band was sort of managed by a guy, Don Holman, I had taught, shared music tastes with and also knew his mom from the school. The band also included two guys from Sapulpa High School.
Don had me listen to a cassette by the band, which I immediately bought. They were good, and multi-talented. They mixed in a variety of instruments not common to pop music and started to gather quite a local following. Ash and I made several trips to the Eclipse to see them and another band with some Sapulpa guys, Dragonfly. Dragonfly had their brief touch with possibility, one night opening at Cain’s Ballroom for Todd Rundgren and then fading into inactivity.
Around 1999, the Tulsa band Hanson hit it big with the pop song “Mmmm-bop.” They were pretty young but the tune was a bubblegum classic. I still have it on my IPOD because there is no denying, that whether you think pop is art or not, it is one of those songs that forces you to hum it, remember it and catch yourself singing along.
The song won national attention andHanson was offered a national tour. They selected the Melodramatic Wallflowers as their opening band. But, the band had been going through a few changes itself due to some conflict name-wise with the now nationally recognized “Wallflowers” fronted by Bob Dylan’s son, Jacob and a bit of turmoil that resulted in one of the band members, Steve Rankin, leaving the band. Steve’s parents live right down the street and I have run into him several times in the neighborhood.
The now named “Admiral Twin” went into the studio to record some new songs, along with some remixes of a few of their older tunes. The resulting CD was called “Mock Heroic.” That CD was a pretty great, slick pop work of art.
Touring with Hanson, a new CD for sale nationally, and a more streamlined, less esoteric sound made it appear that Admiral Twin was on the cusp on big things. There’s no doubt the band was better, both musically and artistically, than a lot of the bands raking in the cash. Unfortunately, the fates and airwaves are not always rewarding of good musicianship, but often of look, and plain luck. Just plain fickle.
After the tour, just when the band should be promoted and raised to a new level, the company they signed with folded. Hanson went on to score a few more songs, and still record today. As a matter of fact, they are planning a new national tour this fall. Admiral Twin, named after the local landmark, the Admiral Twin drive-in, struggled to gain a new contract and opportunity.
The band continued to play and record, appearing all over Tulsa, at any venue possible. I saw them at clubs, at Mayfest, etc. The chance kept evading them and finally, frustrated with the failure to get that chance again, the lead singer, guitarist left the band to take an accounting job in California.
That left the band as a 3 piece, still determined to carry on. Mark Carr, bass player and Sapulpa native, still continues on with the band. I usually talk to him each time I see them play. He has his day job, but the band continues to write new music and intersperse their show of covers with some of the original music.
At Fifth Night, I sat in my folding chair, enjoying the band. They played a set heavy with Beatles, Cars and some newer stuff and a few of the tunes off their newest CD effort. Next to the stage, a friend of the band manned a booth selling Admiral Twin T’s and CD’s.
Many times, I have heard local bands, guitarists, or singers that destroy some of the ones who end up on repetitive replay on the music channels and radio. In a cruel twist of fate, that put them in the right place at the right time, while these yeomen musicians battle the smoky bars and outdoor city festivals so people will hear their music. It is a heroic effort and I admire them for continuing to pursue the things they love, regardless of its profitability. I am eternally a fan in their Mock heroic effort to play in front of the big crowd again. Or maybe they are just “The Unlucky Ones.”
Two weeks ago, Ashley and I met our friends Larry and Claudia at Tulsa’s kind of upscale shopping area, Utica Square for their summer concert series. Utica Square has “Fifth Night” on which ach Thursday musicians play in a staged area in the streets crisscrossing the mall area. People load up their lawn chairs, ice cheats, dinners or sit at one of the nearby outdoor table restaurants and tune into whatever music is playing that week. People sit. People dance. Kids wander the area. We sat, having a beer and dinner that Claudia packed for us all.
That night, the musicians were a local band, Admiral Twin. They have been around for almost 20 years in one of two different incarnations. I first started listening to them in the early 90’s at a Tulsa club called “Eclipse.” At that time, the band was sort of managed by a guy, Don Holman, I had taught, shared music tastes with and also knew his mom from the school. The band also included two guys from Sapulpa High School.
Don had me listen to a cassette by the band, which I immediately bought. They were good, and multi-talented. They mixed in a variety of instruments not common to pop music and started to gather quite a local following. Ash and I made several trips to the Eclipse to see them and another band with some Sapulpa guys, Dragonfly. Dragonfly had their brief touch with possibility, one night opening at Cain’s Ballroom for Todd Rundgren and then fading into inactivity.
Around 1999, the Tulsa band Hanson hit it big with the pop song “Mmmm-bop.” They were pretty young but the tune was a bubblegum classic. I still have it on my IPOD because there is no denying, that whether you think pop is art or not, it is one of those songs that forces you to hum it, remember it and catch yourself singing along.
The song won national attention andHanson was offered a national tour. They selected the Melodramatic Wallflowers as their opening band. But, the band had been going through a few changes itself due to some conflict name-wise with the now nationally recognized “Wallflowers” fronted by Bob Dylan’s son, Jacob and a bit of turmoil that resulted in one of the band members, Steve Rankin, leaving the band. Steve’s parents live right down the street and I have run into him several times in the neighborhood.
The now named “Admiral Twin” went into the studio to record some new songs, along with some remixes of a few of their older tunes. The resulting CD was called “Mock Heroic.” That CD was a pretty great, slick pop work of art.
Touring with Hanson, a new CD for sale nationally, and a more streamlined, less esoteric sound made it appear that Admiral Twin was on the cusp on big things. There’s no doubt the band was better, both musically and artistically, than a lot of the bands raking in the cash. Unfortunately, the fates and airwaves are not always rewarding of good musicianship, but often of look, and plain luck. Just plain fickle.
After the tour, just when the band should be promoted and raised to a new level, the company they signed with folded. Hanson went on to score a few more songs, and still record today. As a matter of fact, they are planning a new national tour this fall. Admiral Twin, named after the local landmark, the Admiral Twin drive-in, struggled to gain a new contract and opportunity.
The band continued to play and record, appearing all over Tulsa, at any venue possible. I saw them at clubs, at Mayfest, etc. The chance kept evading them and finally, frustrated with the failure to get that chance again, the lead singer, guitarist left the band to take an accounting job in California.
That left the band as a 3 piece, still determined to carry on. Mark Carr, bass player and Sapulpa native, still continues on with the band. I usually talk to him each time I see them play. He has his day job, but the band continues to write new music and intersperse their show of covers with some of the original music.
At Fifth Night, I sat in my folding chair, enjoying the band. They played a set heavy with Beatles, Cars and some newer stuff and a few of the tunes off their newest CD effort. Next to the stage, a friend of the band manned a booth selling Admiral Twin T’s and CD’s.
Many times, I have heard local bands, guitarists, or singers that destroy some of the ones who end up on repetitive replay on the music channels and radio. In a cruel twist of fate, that put them in the right place at the right time, while these yeomen musicians battle the smoky bars and outdoor city festivals so people will hear their music. It is a heroic effort and I admire them for continuing to pursue the things they love, regardless of its profitability. I am eternally a fan in their Mock heroic effort to play in front of the big crowd again. Or maybe they are just “The Unlucky Ones.”
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Should have Been a Rock Star- Beatles and a hot Oklahoma summer night
Utica Square… Tulsa, June 24th
Ash and I just came home from the Fifth Night live concert series at Utica Square in Tulsa. Every Thursday night they have live music there. Two weeks ago I saw Admiral Twin, a band I have followed d for years and tonight we saw Bradio, once called The Brady Orchestra.
Bradio has set out on a monumentous task… to recreate the music of the Beatles! A couple years ago, they played Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper in their entirety. It was pretty spectacular. From” Here Comes The Sun” to “Her majesty”… Brady Orchestra rocked out. They created a faithful rendition of probably history’s greatest side of any single album.
The fi4st time they did this at Utica Square, Fletch and I had made the pilgrimage to hear the Beatle tunes. Later, they played at a bike race function n and we went to hear “Rubber Soul” in its entirety.
I was talking with an old high school buddy today, Larry Lutts. One of the things we reminisced about was a band we used to go listen to in a couple of Tulsa bars in the late 70’s. The band was called “US Kids” and they did something in their show at the club ‘Whiskers’ that I had never heard. They played “Magical Mystery Tour” faithfully to the album cut. When the first couple chords rang out, Larry and I looked at each other, long neck beer in our clenched hands.. and mumbled in unison… “Holy Shit!”
So what is it? What is it about a band that disbanded 40 years ago and released their last LP (“Let IT Be”_) 40 years ago this past May? What is it about their music that draws a full house to the musical tribute of local musicians? What is it about their music that brings a tear to my eye even today when I sing along with “Here Comes the Sun” or “Strawberry Fields Forever?”
Just yesterday, Ash and I were sitting in the McDonalds drive through waiting on her burger and fries when “Strawberry Fields” came on the IPOD. I said then….” I will love this song to the day I die.” And that tune is already 43 years old. It is older than the average age of American citizens. More than half of all the citizens in this country weren’t even thought of when that famous video and song played on “American Bandstand” in 1967.
At one time, it may have sounded pretentious to say that the Beatles were timeless. When the memory was fresh and new and their foibles of youth were fresh on the front pages on magazine and newspaper, people would have scoffed. In an era where Lennon’s quote “We’re more popular than Jesus” raised more than eyebrows and inspired a few LP bonfires, they did not seem so immortal. At a time when their personal soap operas were as much a part of their mystique as was the music, there would have been doubts.
Today, far removed from the crisis over LSD revelations, from Yoko and the Maharishi, their music must stand alone. It is not solely a reprehensive of an era of Peace signs and drug use, but something that proved to be more enduring than a simple pop song.
Yes, the Beatles were a phenomena that may never be repeated. They were at the right place at the right time. They are as close to a Wild Stallion from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” as any band may ever be. Not only did they reflect a time, but they helped mold it as well.
Yes… they were the first band to use feedback as a musical tool (“I Feel Fine”) and were the first to intentionally hide backwards sounds in songs (“rain”) in an attempt to stretch the studio beyond their limited capacities. The Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” on June 1st, 1967, and it served as a fitting soundtrack for the psychedelic Summer of Love. Pop music took a quantum leap with its release.
They also legitimized the hippie look, with their new longer hair, beard and mustaches first previewed to the world through the two promo films of “Strawberry Fields” and “Penny Lane.” The watching dancers on “American Bandstand” were slightly traumatized, but I imagine it was not too long before they too were trying to decipher the words and meanings in Sgt. Pepper and its dazzling cover art.
In ’68, the Fab Four traveled to India to broaden their minds and spirits. A change took place there, influenced by Harrison’s spiritual pursuits into eastern philosophy which impacted the one time mop tops and made a lasting impression in their music and word play. Sitars rang out in western pop songs. References to Hindu chants and philosophy littered songs not only by Harrison but also Lennon. Eastern ideas on meditation and life made their first accepted forays into modern culture since the days of Jack Kerouac and his Dharma Bums from the fringe beatnik culture of the 50’s.
In a scant seven years on the international scene, they left a mark on society in indelible ink. They influenced generations of writers, singers and musicians. They left behind in their wake others who might never see the impact of their own music reach such proportions, regardless of talent, because the time and the place had changed.
But it was not all time and place. Yes.. Those things have importance, no doubt, but whether it is the simple “She Loves You” or the transcendental “I Am the Walrus”, the music itself touched our collective hearts. It had characteristics of the classical (“Eleanor Rigby”) and of metal (“helter Skelter”). IT was an English ballad (“Martha My Dear”) and a psychedelic anthem (“Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”). It was about eastern mysticism (“Its All Too Much”) and it was a simple love song (“I Will”).
Joihn, Paul, George and Ringo can not be categorized. They can not be stuffed into a neat box of explanation. And, maybe it is because they stopped when they were on top of the world that they are still there, their 40 year old songs still echoing across the airwaves, Wii games and IPODs into a new century.
Tonight, on a hot and humid Oklahoma evening, as sweat trickled down my face, I sang along at the top of my lungs as Bradio played the chords to “Here Comes the Sun”, because of those four guys from the poor side of Liverpool, somehow I truly believe that “Here comes the sun and it’s alright.”
Ash and I just came home from the Fifth Night live concert series at Utica Square in Tulsa. Every Thursday night they have live music there. Two weeks ago I saw Admiral Twin, a band I have followed d for years and tonight we saw Bradio, once called The Brady Orchestra.
Bradio has set out on a monumentous task… to recreate the music of the Beatles! A couple years ago, they played Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper in their entirety. It was pretty spectacular. From” Here Comes The Sun” to “Her majesty”… Brady Orchestra rocked out. They created a faithful rendition of probably history’s greatest side of any single album.
The fi4st time they did this at Utica Square, Fletch and I had made the pilgrimage to hear the Beatle tunes. Later, they played at a bike race function n and we went to hear “Rubber Soul” in its entirety.
I was talking with an old high school buddy today, Larry Lutts. One of the things we reminisced about was a band we used to go listen to in a couple of Tulsa bars in the late 70’s. The band was called “US Kids” and they did something in their show at the club ‘Whiskers’ that I had never heard. They played “Magical Mystery Tour” faithfully to the album cut. When the first couple chords rang out, Larry and I looked at each other, long neck beer in our clenched hands.. and mumbled in unison… “Holy Shit!”
So what is it? What is it about a band that disbanded 40 years ago and released their last LP (“Let IT Be”_) 40 years ago this past May? What is it about their music that draws a full house to the musical tribute of local musicians? What is it about their music that brings a tear to my eye even today when I sing along with “Here Comes the Sun” or “Strawberry Fields Forever?”
Just yesterday, Ash and I were sitting in the McDonalds drive through waiting on her burger and fries when “Strawberry Fields” came on the IPOD. I said then….” I will love this song to the day I die.” And that tune is already 43 years old. It is older than the average age of American citizens. More than half of all the citizens in this country weren’t even thought of when that famous video and song played on “American Bandstand” in 1967.
At one time, it may have sounded pretentious to say that the Beatles were timeless. When the memory was fresh and new and their foibles of youth were fresh on the front pages on magazine and newspaper, people would have scoffed. In an era where Lennon’s quote “We’re more popular than Jesus” raised more than eyebrows and inspired a few LP bonfires, they did not seem so immortal. At a time when their personal soap operas were as much a part of their mystique as was the music, there would have been doubts.
Today, far removed from the crisis over LSD revelations, from Yoko and the Maharishi, their music must stand alone. It is not solely a reprehensive of an era of Peace signs and drug use, but something that proved to be more enduring than a simple pop song.
Yes, the Beatles were a phenomena that may never be repeated. They were at the right place at the right time. They are as close to a Wild Stallion from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” as any band may ever be. Not only did they reflect a time, but they helped mold it as well.
Yes… they were the first band to use feedback as a musical tool (“I Feel Fine”) and were the first to intentionally hide backwards sounds in songs (“rain”) in an attempt to stretch the studio beyond their limited capacities. The Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” on June 1st, 1967, and it served as a fitting soundtrack for the psychedelic Summer of Love. Pop music took a quantum leap with its release.
They also legitimized the hippie look, with their new longer hair, beard and mustaches first previewed to the world through the two promo films of “Strawberry Fields” and “Penny Lane.” The watching dancers on “American Bandstand” were slightly traumatized, but I imagine it was not too long before they too were trying to decipher the words and meanings in Sgt. Pepper and its dazzling cover art.
In ’68, the Fab Four traveled to India to broaden their minds and spirits. A change took place there, influenced by Harrison’s spiritual pursuits into eastern philosophy which impacted the one time mop tops and made a lasting impression in their music and word play. Sitars rang out in western pop songs. References to Hindu chants and philosophy littered songs not only by Harrison but also Lennon. Eastern ideas on meditation and life made their first accepted forays into modern culture since the days of Jack Kerouac and his Dharma Bums from the fringe beatnik culture of the 50’s.
In a scant seven years on the international scene, they left a mark on society in indelible ink. They influenced generations of writers, singers and musicians. They left behind in their wake others who might never see the impact of their own music reach such proportions, regardless of talent, because the time and the place had changed.
But it was not all time and place. Yes.. Those things have importance, no doubt, but whether it is the simple “She Loves You” or the transcendental “I Am the Walrus”, the music itself touched our collective hearts. It had characteristics of the classical (“Eleanor Rigby”) and of metal (“helter Skelter”). IT was an English ballad (“Martha My Dear”) and a psychedelic anthem (“Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”). It was about eastern mysticism (“Its All Too Much”) and it was a simple love song (“I Will”).
Joihn, Paul, George and Ringo can not be categorized. They can not be stuffed into a neat box of explanation. And, maybe it is because they stopped when they were on top of the world that they are still there, their 40 year old songs still echoing across the airwaves, Wii games and IPODs into a new century.
Tonight, on a hot and humid Oklahoma evening, as sweat trickled down my face, I sang along at the top of my lungs as Bradio played the chords to “Here Comes the Sun”, because of those four guys from the poor side of Liverpool, somehow I truly believe that “Here comes the sun and it’s alright.”
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Zen Music Moment- Opieland hotel
During November of 2008, Ashley traveled to Nashville for the national English teachers convention. I took the chance to go with her.... and stayed at the Eddie gaylord "Opieland".. a sprawling expanse of hotels, convention centers, shops, Bars and restaurants all under one protective dome. Gaylord had built a city of the future... like the domed cities of sci fi.
While Ash attended the convention, I wandered thew dome. It was intricate and each area was themed. I checked the maps often to make sure I wasn't lost when we were supposed to meet.
That evening, Ash and I decided to find a bar with live music and settle in for a couple beers. We checked out the Irish PUb for a while and then settled in a small club with a 3 piece guitar band on stage.
The guys were good. They played a great selection of tunes and the bar seemed to be getting into the music. I know we were.
Then.. THAT GUY showed up. The one who is drunk... who wants everyone to see and hear him. The obnoxious and irrepressible class clown who thinks he is funnier than he really is.... the village idiot.
He began by yelling song titles at the band. Then his southern rock brain cells, freed by copious amonts of alcohol, kicked into high gear.
"Freebird! Freebird!" he chanted over and over... at the end of each song, during the song.... and even offering money for the band to play tyhat clssic that radio has done so much to wear out.
At last, the singer stopped and addressed the moron.
"I knew you would be here tonight. I didn't know when or what you would look like, but... I knew you would be here."
Why is it there is always that idiot or his clone that shows up at a show? recently at a Cross Canadian ragweed show in OKC, some dumbass hits the lead singer with a Jack Daniels bottle? I was at a Todd Rundgren solo show in Tulsa where during a slow "Can We still be friends"... a beer bottle whizzes across the stage and over the piano. At another show at Cain's Ballroom, Rundgren stops the show because some dumbass... a clone to the pone in Nashville... is talking so loudly by the stage... that peoiple around him are having trouble hearing the concert. He was much more interested i trying to get into the pants of the woman there than the show he had apparently paid for.... and that we had paid for.
These guys.. always guys.. keep showing up. UGh... even as non-violent as I am, I fantasize choking them in guitar chords... dismembering g them with drum sticks...hanging hem from the stage lights ....
but it's only a fantasy.
While Ash attended the convention, I wandered thew dome. It was intricate and each area was themed. I checked the maps often to make sure I wasn't lost when we were supposed to meet.
That evening, Ash and I decided to find a bar with live music and settle in for a couple beers. We checked out the Irish PUb for a while and then settled in a small club with a 3 piece guitar band on stage.
The guys were good. They played a great selection of tunes and the bar seemed to be getting into the music. I know we were.
Then.. THAT GUY showed up. The one who is drunk... who wants everyone to see and hear him. The obnoxious and irrepressible class clown who thinks he is funnier than he really is.... the village idiot.
He began by yelling song titles at the band. Then his southern rock brain cells, freed by copious amonts of alcohol, kicked into high gear.
"Freebird! Freebird!" he chanted over and over... at the end of each song, during the song.... and even offering money for the band to play tyhat clssic that radio has done so much to wear out.
At last, the singer stopped and addressed the moron.
"I knew you would be here tonight. I didn't know when or what you would look like, but... I knew you would be here."
Why is it there is always that idiot or his clone that shows up at a show? recently at a Cross Canadian ragweed show in OKC, some dumbass hits the lead singer with a Jack Daniels bottle? I was at a Todd Rundgren solo show in Tulsa where during a slow "Can We still be friends"... a beer bottle whizzes across the stage and over the piano. At another show at Cain's Ballroom, Rundgren stops the show because some dumbass... a clone to the pone in Nashville... is talking so loudly by the stage... that peoiple around him are having trouble hearing the concert. He was much more interested i trying to get into the pants of the woman there than the show he had apparently paid for.... and that we had paid for.
These guys.. always guys.. keep showing up. UGh... even as non-violent as I am, I fantasize choking them in guitar chords... dismembering g them with drum sticks...hanging hem from the stage lights ....
but it's only a fantasy.
Zen Music Moment
A couple years ago, Ash and I made a trip to New Orleans. I am pretty sure it was late JUne.
We stayed in a hotel on the French Quarter so we could eb close to the action at Bourbon Street and the night life. We were looking forward to exploring the place, eating some benet for breakfast and listening to jazz or Cajun music in the evening bars.
We left late morning on foot, wandering through the area armed with our tourist map and sun screen. It was hot... damn hot! The humidity was incredible. We visited voodoo shops for the air conditioning! We chose a restaurant because it looked the coolest. Our walk along side the Mississippi left others wondering which was wetter... the river or the heavy sweating couple form Oklahoma.
Finally, exhausted and drenched, we stumbled upon the famous bar, J Patrick O'Malleys. We wobbled in... ordered the famous Hurricane drink... a tall, red concoction that we drank quickly to quench our parched bodies. The alcohol went straight to my head.
We ended up in one of the many rooms with music. In that particular room, two women played dueling pianos through a collection of pop songs.
Meanwhile, the sweat began to cool against our skin. The Hurricane drink settled blissfully in my brain. and we breathed a collective sigh of relief while we sat exhausted in the piano bar.
Suddenly the two women started the strangest version I have ever heard of a 70's rock classic. The first chords on the piano sounded strangely familiar. "I think they're playing 'FReebird'" I mumbled to Ashley across the table.
AS the two women traded vocals and piano on the Skynard classic, we could only look at each other, grin foolishly and stifle the giggles that seemed to want to spill forth.
For some reason, at that moment, sweaty and dehydrated, O'Malley's Hurricane coursing through my brain, that version of "Freebird" seemd to be the most surreal song I had evebr experienced.
Wail on Ladies... wail on.
We stayed in a hotel on the French Quarter so we could eb close to the action at Bourbon Street and the night life. We were looking forward to exploring the place, eating some benet for breakfast and listening to jazz or Cajun music in the evening bars.
We left late morning on foot, wandering through the area armed with our tourist map and sun screen. It was hot... damn hot! The humidity was incredible. We visited voodoo shops for the air conditioning! We chose a restaurant because it looked the coolest. Our walk along side the Mississippi left others wondering which was wetter... the river or the heavy sweating couple form Oklahoma.
Finally, exhausted and drenched, we stumbled upon the famous bar, J Patrick O'Malleys. We wobbled in... ordered the famous Hurricane drink... a tall, red concoction that we drank quickly to quench our parched bodies. The alcohol went straight to my head.
We ended up in one of the many rooms with music. In that particular room, two women played dueling pianos through a collection of pop songs.
Meanwhile, the sweat began to cool against our skin. The Hurricane drink settled blissfully in my brain. and we breathed a collective sigh of relief while we sat exhausted in the piano bar.
Suddenly the two women started the strangest version I have ever heard of a 70's rock classic. The first chords on the piano sounded strangely familiar. "I think they're playing 'FReebird'" I mumbled to Ashley across the table.
AS the two women traded vocals and piano on the Skynard classic, we could only look at each other, grin foolishly and stifle the giggles that seemed to want to spill forth.
For some reason, at that moment, sweaty and dehydrated, O'Malley's Hurricane coursing through my brain, that version of "Freebird" seemd to be the most surreal song I had evebr experienced.
Wail on Ladies... wail on.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Should Have beena rock star... more on Jerry!- record collecting
Record Collecting
A few weeks ago I made contact with an old buddy, Jerry Reale. I had written about Jerry in an earlier blog. He was in the same grade as my high school girl friend and we met because of a similar taste and obsession with music collecting. In fact, it was at Jerry’s house where I first heard “Dark Side of t Moon” through his cushy headphones. I also first heard the whole “Close to the Edge” Lp the same way….buried in a bean bag chair, progressive rock organs and guitars weaving an epicurean feast for my ears.
Jerry and I reconnected on Facebook through his daughter. Tonya suggested us as friends. I had her as a student a couple years ago, and got some news of Jerry through her. Strange to see him now, clean cut and all respectable –like. I remember the young guy, chattering about his records, his Iron Butterfly, Yes and growing LP piles. Jerry sported glasses and a bushy head of hair reminiscent of Joey Ramone. .
One thing that has not changed about Jerry is his passion for collecting. His Facebook is filled with the pics of collectibles, including the Beatles Butcher cover, the music made with Tony Sheridan and various 45 rpm covers from across the Beatles era. The picture of the prodigious shelves of LP after Lp from ceiling to floor tells me that the vinyl disc is a thing Jerry never left. It is an impressive work of collection!
Jerry and I became LP hunters. We scoured the record stores for the pearls among the swine. In Tulsa, the record collecting was at first limited to the actual stores that sold new releases/ W hunted for best price and best selection. There were several GReers Record and Tape stores we frequented. The old hippie record store and head shop, Starship usually had one of the best selections of LPs and sometimes even a bootleg or two intersperses among the legit copies. A few of the other existing stores of the time catered mostly to a different crowd, such as Bill’s T records.
It was then a store from the heavens opened up to us. In a small cubby, a used record store, primarily vinyl, began to advertise. Jerry and I spent hours there, digging through the LPs. We were soon o a first name basis with Paul, who always knew we were good for a purchase or two. He soon had competition from a store run by a grey haired hipster, called Wizards. We bounced from store to store, locating boots, foreign discs, collector’s items and paraphernalia.
Jerry and I even traded among ourselves. He knew I was Badfinger fan and traded me a German copy of the then out of print Badfinger “Straight Up” Lp. At one time, I even traded to him my copy of the rare bootleg Beatles Christmas recordings. Funny, before jerry posted that Lp on facebook, he wrote me a note making sure I wasn’t mad that he ‘begged’ me out of that Lp years ago. I am not. Never was. I must admit, I do enjoy finding little gems and rarities, but as the years went on, Jerry became a much better collector than I.
My music became much more based on listening rather than the collection. This led to one of my great mistakes in collecting. Somehow in the late 70s I found a copy fo John and Yoko’s “Two Virgins” in a brown wrapper for only 42.98 at Starship. I kept it for a few years as an oddity. The music is useless and not worth much except for a Lennon collector. It was a collection of Lennon and Ono first love musical rambling ad experimental noise. So in June of 1980, I parted with the LP for what is aw as a good profit at $40.
Lennon was killed in December of the same year. Guess what the value of that Lp rose to??? Made me ill. Makes a guy want to hang on to everything, huh?
Over the years, I still searched out rarities and gems, especially in the form of rare Beatle music. I found live cuts unreleased, studio cuts, and unreleased SONGS LIKE THE ACOUSTIC VERSION OF “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” long before it was released as a part of the mid 1990’s Beatles Anthology. I fact, I still have a few songs that have never seen the light of day from the Beatles archives… legitimately. Now, those tunes play on my IPOD and rest in my CD collection.
Over the years, my obsession for the Lp died hard. I had several thousand vinyl LPs and continued to buy my music that way despite the market shift to, first, the cassette and then to the CD. I had a cassette player in my car and house, but usually it was found playing mixes made from my LPs or others. I rarely ever bought a pre-recorded cassette. If it was a musician I loved, I bought the LP, to have, to hold, to peruse over and over.
I won my first CD, “The Iron Giant “by Pete Townshend, which eventually was turned into the Iron Giant” animated movie. Then, Ash and Mom bought me a CD player for Christmas… eventually making CD’s of music became my mix obsession. It was only a small skip then from the CD to digital music and an IPOD. Meanwhile, my LPs sit, stored in Fletch’s now vacant room. A couple years ago, when I had the then, sometimes played LPs stored in a down stairs closet, I opened it one day6 to find we had a leak in the upstairs air conditioning unit that accused backed up water to cascade through the middle of my collection. It warped and glued together a collection of LPs from the alphabetically stored artists whose cruel order in that 26 letters placed them under the leak; Bowie, Cheap Trick and Cream on one George Harrison on another and through the letters on the lower shelves. Despite the fact they rarely saw the light of day; it was as if someone had just slashed my personal Picasso.
The LPs were moved first to the garage and then to the upstairs. Ash eventually bought a couple of frames so that I could rotate them for view like things a fine art. But, mostly, the hard won collection sits, like ancient gods waiting for someone to believe once again. Ash and I, at some time when money is a little more available, plan on having another turntable and freeing the discs from their inactivity.
As I look at the LP collection on his Facebook, I still long for that vinyl LP, the artwork, the foldout and anticipation of discovery inside the cardboard sleeve.
And a few funny things and ironic...on Facebook, after all these years of knowing Jerry, I found out a couple of new connections for us. I posted a question...
"your first concert" and found that before jerry and I were record hunting allies, we were both actually at our first concert the same night and venue. We both listed Grand Funk Railroad. And then, a couple years ago when what was left of GFR came to the Tulsa State Fair, I found that Jerry was also in that crowd again, unbeknownst to me.
45m 33, 78........Jerry is still spinning those discs!
A few weeks ago I made contact with an old buddy, Jerry Reale. I had written about Jerry in an earlier blog. He was in the same grade as my high school girl friend and we met because of a similar taste and obsession with music collecting. In fact, it was at Jerry’s house where I first heard “Dark Side of t Moon” through his cushy headphones. I also first heard the whole “Close to the Edge” Lp the same way….buried in a bean bag chair, progressive rock organs and guitars weaving an epicurean feast for my ears.
Jerry and I reconnected on Facebook through his daughter. Tonya suggested us as friends. I had her as a student a couple years ago, and got some news of Jerry through her. Strange to see him now, clean cut and all respectable –like. I remember the young guy, chattering about his records, his Iron Butterfly, Yes and growing LP piles. Jerry sported glasses and a bushy head of hair reminiscent of Joey Ramone. .
One thing that has not changed about Jerry is his passion for collecting. His Facebook is filled with the pics of collectibles, including the Beatles Butcher cover, the music made with Tony Sheridan and various 45 rpm covers from across the Beatles era. The picture of the prodigious shelves of LP after Lp from ceiling to floor tells me that the vinyl disc is a thing Jerry never left. It is an impressive work of collection!
Jerry and I became LP hunters. We scoured the record stores for the pearls among the swine. In Tulsa, the record collecting was at first limited to the actual stores that sold new releases/ W hunted for best price and best selection. There were several GReers Record and Tape stores we frequented. The old hippie record store and head shop, Starship usually had one of the best selections of LPs and sometimes even a bootleg or two intersperses among the legit copies. A few of the other existing stores of the time catered mostly to a different crowd, such as Bill’s T records.
It was then a store from the heavens opened up to us. In a small cubby, a used record store, primarily vinyl, began to advertise. Jerry and I spent hours there, digging through the LPs. We were soon o a first name basis with Paul, who always knew we were good for a purchase or two. He soon had competition from a store run by a grey haired hipster, called Wizards. We bounced from store to store, locating boots, foreign discs, collector’s items and paraphernalia.
Jerry and I even traded among ourselves. He knew I was Badfinger fan and traded me a German copy of the then out of print Badfinger “Straight Up” Lp. At one time, I even traded to him my copy of the rare bootleg Beatles Christmas recordings. Funny, before jerry posted that Lp on facebook, he wrote me a note making sure I wasn’t mad that he ‘begged’ me out of that Lp years ago. I am not. Never was. I must admit, I do enjoy finding little gems and rarities, but as the years went on, Jerry became a much better collector than I.
My music became much more based on listening rather than the collection. This led to one of my great mistakes in collecting. Somehow in the late 70s I found a copy fo John and Yoko’s “Two Virgins” in a brown wrapper for only 42.98 at Starship. I kept it for a few years as an oddity. The music is useless and not worth much except for a Lennon collector. It was a collection of Lennon and Ono first love musical rambling ad experimental noise. So in June of 1980, I parted with the LP for what is aw as a good profit at $40.
Lennon was killed in December of the same year. Guess what the value of that Lp rose to??? Made me ill. Makes a guy want to hang on to everything, huh?
Over the years, I still searched out rarities and gems, especially in the form of rare Beatle music. I found live cuts unreleased, studio cuts, and unreleased SONGS LIKE THE ACOUSTIC VERSION OF “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” long before it was released as a part of the mid 1990’s Beatles Anthology. I fact, I still have a few songs that have never seen the light of day from the Beatles archives… legitimately. Now, those tunes play on my IPOD and rest in my CD collection.
Over the years, my obsession for the Lp died hard. I had several thousand vinyl LPs and continued to buy my music that way despite the market shift to, first, the cassette and then to the CD. I had a cassette player in my car and house, but usually it was found playing mixes made from my LPs or others. I rarely ever bought a pre-recorded cassette. If it was a musician I loved, I bought the LP, to have, to hold, to peruse over and over.
I won my first CD, “The Iron Giant “by Pete Townshend, which eventually was turned into the Iron Giant” animated movie. Then, Ash and Mom bought me a CD player for Christmas… eventually making CD’s of music became my mix obsession. It was only a small skip then from the CD to digital music and an IPOD. Meanwhile, my LPs sit, stored in Fletch’s now vacant room. A couple years ago, when I had the then, sometimes played LPs stored in a down stairs closet, I opened it one day6 to find we had a leak in the upstairs air conditioning unit that accused backed up water to cascade through the middle of my collection. It warped and glued together a collection of LPs from the alphabetically stored artists whose cruel order in that 26 letters placed them under the leak; Bowie, Cheap Trick and Cream on one George Harrison on another and through the letters on the lower shelves. Despite the fact they rarely saw the light of day; it was as if someone had just slashed my personal Picasso.
The LPs were moved first to the garage and then to the upstairs. Ash eventually bought a couple of frames so that I could rotate them for view like things a fine art. But, mostly, the hard won collection sits, like ancient gods waiting for someone to believe once again. Ash and I, at some time when money is a little more available, plan on having another turntable and freeing the discs from their inactivity.
As I look at the LP collection on his Facebook, I still long for that vinyl LP, the artwork, the foldout and anticipation of discovery inside the cardboard sleeve.
And a few funny things and ironic...on Facebook, after all these years of knowing Jerry, I found out a couple of new connections for us. I posted a question...
"your first concert" and found that before jerry and I were record hunting allies, we were both actually at our first concert the same night and venue. We both listed Grand Funk Railroad. And then, a couple years ago when what was left of GFR came to the Tulsa State Fair, I found that Jerry was also in that crowd again, unbeknownst to me.
45m 33, 78........Jerry is still spinning those discs!
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