When I started the more in depth research for the recent Mrs. Slick article, beyond what I had looked into for the posts on the two Jefferson Airplane albums in the A to Z exercise to album project, I was surprised to learn that Marty Balin was not just a founding member of the group, he was the founder. Paul Kantner always seemed to be the stronger personality, but it wasn’t him. It was particularly confusing to me as I have this distinct memory from the 1970 movie Gimme Shelter about the Altamont free concert, which was probably better known for the violent atmosphere than for the line-up that included The Jefferson Airplane and of course the Rolling Stones. Someone had the brilliant idea to hire the Hell’s Angels as security. That did not work out well. While the Airplane were playing, fans were getting beaten up and Marty Balin jumped off the stage into the crowd and was slugged by one of the security guards. This is the part that adds to my confusion of who the band’s founder was. Slick, on stage and pissed and/or shaken, says into the mike that they just beat up “my singer.” I’ll say no more, mostly because I don’t wish to discuss that fiasco that caused the death of a fan, any further.
In any case, Balin had the idea, from what I have read, to form a six piece band, five guys, one “girl,” that plays folk music with electric instruments. Looking for band members, Balin first approached Kantner, who came on board, then the rest was assembled. Grace Slick was their second “girl” singer, replacing the original who left the group to start a family. Slick stole the spotlight, but Balin was the leader and wrote most of the songs. I had read that Balin actually didn’t like Slick’s stage antics, nor her voice, and that Jorma Kaukonen didn’t like something or other that Balin was doing. Yes there was tension in the group, yet their voices and styles complemented each other. They were a bunch of wonderful musicians who made some great music there for a while. They started breaking up and Balin left the band and cut an album called Bodacious DF (who remembers the Snuffy Smiff theme song? I’ll start. Ar, ar, ar…) with another group, rejoined Kantner in the Jefferson Starship for a bit, as did Slick, had some hits and left again. Unlike Slick, Balin continues to perform, and Kantner is still with a revamped Airplane.
I recently joined the Facebook group WNEW-FM Fan Club, which is pretty enjoyable. Someone shared a Gibson Guitar article on the Top 50 Guitar Solos of All Time. Missing from it was Jorma’s “Embryonic Journey.” Also missing was Alvin Lee’s “Going Home” solo that was a highlight of the Woodstock movie. And now that I hear it again, Jorma on “We Should Be Together” from Surrealistic Pillow is really swell. But these kind of lists are just annoying. Who says, anyway?
That said, thinking back to all the albums and songs, how many times have I written that a particular song was the most beautiful song I had ever heard? Here is the list as I remember: Roxy Music’s “More Than This,” The Association’s “Cherish,” The Dave Clark Five’s “Because,” the Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin,” and Marty Balin’s “Today” from Surrealistic Pillow. “Comin’ Back to Me” is nothing to sneeze at either, whatever that means. (I don’t have any Chicago albums, but honorable mention goes to “Color My World.”)
I’ve lost momentum (and my internet sucks). Please bear with me.
Remember my first dilemma when I found that the next album on deck to exercise to was George Carlin’s comedy album AM/FM? I’m reminded of that today as I try to express thanks to Dick Cavett for all he’s done for rock ‘n roll, and what he’s done for me as a rock fan. One of Carlin’s skits is an homage to Ed Sullivan, whom I have mentioned a number of times before for those of you who are too young to rememberT. Sullivan was important to rock ‘n roll, and while he looked like the proverbial stuffed shirt, he knew about the vast world of entertainment. He brought us Elvis and the Beatles and the Stones, and so many other groups that performed on his stage (now the stage on which David Letterman performs, at least until sometime next year) throughout the years he was on. And let’s not forget his role, his acting role in Bye Bye Birdie, in which the song “Hymn for a Sunday Evening” is an ode to him.
In Carlin’s bit called “Ed Sullivan Self Taught,” he talks about the fact that after 23 years on the air, The Ed Sullivan Show was canceled during summer reruns so nobody knew that the last show of that season was the last show ever. Carlin said: “I would’ve liked to have been there just to say ‘Thanks Ed.’ Thanks for all the crazy acts. Thanks for the Beatles…” Ed Sullivan allowed us to see our rock ‘n roll icons perform, as did the late Dick Clark and Johnny Carson, but Dick Cavett allowed us to talk to them, and have them talk to us using Cavett as a conduit. He brought us some of the biggest names in rock ‘n roll at the time, and while he didn’t look like a rocker himself, far from it, he came across as someone genuinely interested in the stories they had to tell. He didn’t just have them on once, have them perform their latest hits and leave, he had conversations many times with the likes of Grace Slick, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and John and Yoko. He listened and so did we. We got into their heads and they were happy to share. And the respect seemed mutual.
I have three specific Dick Cavett Show memories. First, there was the Woodstock show that featured guests The Jefferson Airplane, Joni Mitchell, Stephen Stills and David Crosby (where Graham Nash was, I don’t know), during which Crosby said his astrological sign was Leo and Joni Mitchell remarked that he looked like a lion. Not a monumental memory, but it stuck in my head. There was another time when Jimi Hendrix couldn’t converse because he said he was tired and left. I thought he was just rude, but it turned out he was just very high, and Cavett had him back again for a more lively chat. This is not rock related, but Louise Lasser (Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman), who had once been married to Woody Allen, was the guest and brought up that while married to Allen, Cavett would be a frequent dinner guest and he ate so slow that both Lasser and Allen would leave Cavett at the table still eating, and go watch television. I could relate. I too was once an excruciatingly slow eater, and would often find myself out for dinner with friends who would have moved on to dessert while I was still eating my main course. One of my friends had said that I was so thin because by the time I was done eating I was probably already fully digested. Also, going without dessert in favor of finishing my meal didn’t hurt.
Anyway, on behalf of rock ‘n roll fans everywhere, particularly we younger baby boomers, I’d like to say Thank You Dick Cavett. Thanks for the many wonderful conversations, and I loved you in Beetlejuice.
Ooomigod, this was a find! I am squealing inside as I write this. Look what I came across at my local Barnes & Noble –$4.99.
If you remember back in the G’s when I had to exercise to the cast album of the movie version of Gigi, I bemoaned the fact that while I had several albums leftover from the family, I no longer had Bye Bye Birdie. When I was a little girl, my friend Claudia and I had our mothers take us to see the movie many times. We were seven, so many could have been anything more than once. We had such a crush on Bobby Rydell, who played Hugo Peabody, the lusty young Ann-Margaret’s Kim MacAfee’s boyfriend. We looked up Rydell in the Nassau County phonebook and don’t think we found any. Maybe they were all in Suffolk, the next county over. Rydell was a singer, whose skills as a drummer were highlighted in the movie’s best musical number “Got A Lot of Livin To Do,” when he had the chance to bang on a table and sing about being a “ring-a-ding drummer.”
At 72, he still gets out there now and then to perform, and let’s not forget that the famed Rydell High from Grease was named in his honor. This CD contains his hits like “Volare,” the fabulous “Swingin’ School,” and my personal favorite “Wild One.” Oh, and there’s “Sway” (squealing again), and the last number is a duet with Chubby Checker on “Jingle Bell Rock.” As they’re both short CDs, I topped Bobby Rydell off with The Association, and, in keeping with the situation, added Lou Christie’s classic masterpiece “Lightning Strikes” in between, which I think we’ll all know as Lightning is Striking Again (and again and again). And yes, I ponied around the place like I was seven years old again, cha-cha’d too, at least in my mind until my body reminded it that we were decades, generations, half a century even away from that. Darn good sweaty workout tonight though. Oh, and I saw parts of the Macy’s 4th of July fireworks display to the east Friday night, and New Jersey’s counter attack to the west right on the Hudson, and could catch glimpses in the distant background of displays throughout other Jersey towns. It was intense.
Tomorrow would have been my mother’s birthday, and is the birthday of her favorite Beatle. Happy birthday to Ringo Starr.
I remind myself sometimes that every thought I have isn’t a story. And then I tell myself – Sure they are. See this, what you’re thinking now? Could be a story.
That’s why this blogging thing is good for me, and I for it, I think. I can take these random thoughts that I start writing stories about, of which I have notebook after notebook, and put them into a series of incredibly short stories, all revolving around a theme. It keeps me focused, it keeps me writing, it keeps me moving, and it makes me feel good. But it’s not enough.
It’s been hot and muggy lately, but I am still exercising through it. And tonight, I may or may not be able to catch a glimpse of the Macy’s fireworks display. I’ve been privileged to have seen some very nice displays where I live (re: the Super Bowl fireworks spectacular that I wrote about in… whenever the Super Bowl was), but the Macy’s display, even though on the Hudson, has been too far north for me to see other than on television. This year however, the display returns to the East River over the Brooklyn Bridge, which I have a sliver of a view from my east-facing window. And Arthur looks like he’s going to behave. I keep my fingers crossed, but am in no way deprived. I do envy those of you having barbecues and family gatherings, but we all can’t have everything, and I am finding myself more and more thankful for what I do have.
Enjoy this very important holiday.
Grace Slick was on the Dick Cavett show one night without the rest of the Airplane. “So, Miss Slick,” Cavett said to her. “Mrs.,” she corrected him. Cavett was as surprised as I was. She was married? Or had been? And that meant that Slick wasn’t even the name she was born with (it’s Wing). At least it’s not a made up name. Plus, she had a different life before Jefferson Airplane. I was naïve enough then to think that groups started and grew together, like the Beatles, but she wasn’t even their first female singer. And that’s what I was thinking about when I worked out to Surrealistic Pillow, one of the Ram 20 a couple of evenings ago.
It’s been so long since we were not even halfway through the A-Z album/exercise project, and I haven’t listened to it since we were back in the Js. I was wondering why it was on the list, but I got it now. I also remember reading an interview with Slick years after Janis Joplin died in which she talked about the irony of drug abuse, and how life is a crap shoot. I’m doing this from memory, but that sounds like something she’d say. Joplin, she said, had been clean for a while, was in love with a biker and settling down when she overdosed. Slick admits to being so high so often that she accepted an award she didn’t actually win during a remote performance on the award show (I saw it – it was really not cool), and other such foolishness that she could have easily been the one who died.
But, she and Janis were friends, and rather than post a picture of Slick today at 74, looking like everyone’s grandmother, I wanted to find one of the two of them together, and there were many to choose from. Slick, who doesn’t believe in aging rock ‘n rollers, is long retired from the music scene and is now a visual artist. If we never hear her sing again, and no matter what she looks like (she actually looks good, a little plump and she doesn’t dye her hair), she will always be a major force in rock ‘n roll and a particular force for women in music. I enjoyed working out to Surrealistic Pillow, so much so that I exercised to The Worst of The Jefferson Airplane tonight, though it hadn’t made it to the list, and still won’t. I think that I shall delve further into Jefferson Airplane at a later date. I hope I remember cause I don’t feel like doing it now.
Guess what I found in the Barnes and Noble discount rack? It isn’t what I would have chosen as my first Warren Zevon purchase, but I do love the word discount. This is a live acoustic solo album of various worldwide performances in 1992. It starts off very interesting then drags, so not for workouts. But what a character he was. Many of us who know of Warren Zevon first heard of him through “Werewolves of London,” (not written for the later release movie American Werewolf in London for which I have a great Vicki story). What a perfect blend of voice and song, the voice itself kind of menacing and the tone sneering and mocking. He’d been around for a long time before this song was released, and pretty respected in the industry. Linda Ronstadt had a hit with Zevon’s “Poor Poor Pitiful Me,” of which I do like her take, but then Zevon’s version seems to suck all emotion from the song sounding like his brand of sarcasm. It’s fascinating. I’ll admit, something about Zevon kind of scared me at first. Not the song, but something about the guy. I think it may have been his high degree of coolness. He was like a more lively and melodic Tom Waits and not at all as gravelly. His words were so well strung together and presented. Maybe that’s why I didn’t explore his work further. I love irony and he was too good at it. We must know by now how much I love “Excitable Boy.” But with the wit and wisdom of Warren Zevon so daunting, I was not surprised to learn that he had a dark side that made him a bad husband and father, so I read, but it also made him a great songwriter and artist. I think that he deserves further exploration and I will do so when I borrow a friend’s Best of CD.
News:
The Netherlands beat Mexico in the World Cup today. I’m ¼ Dutch and have a Dutch step-mother.
I’ve been wearing my shorts out more often on weekends now and have to remember what that results in when you sit in a metal openwork based chair.
Paul McCartney is well again and resuming his tour, ready to rock ‘n roll. I have been Ramming in his honor. Rock on Paul McCartney. Rock on.
While changing my wallet the other day, I ran my fingers through the old one before throwing it out. I’ve had it for, wow I don’t know how long, but it’s probably been close to a decade, and you never know what old treasures you risk losing forever. Somebody’s phone number, a reminder, or a fortune from a fortune cookie. I found none of the first two yet five fortunes and I understand why I kept each one:
- Good news of a long-awaited event will arrive soon.
- Expect much of yourself and little of others.
- Be careful! Straight trees often have crooked roots.
- Let’s finish this up now, someone is waiting for you on that.
- There’s no such thing as an ordinary cat.
That fourth one though, as a professional procrastinator, it kind of creeped me out when I got it. And I learned how to say Red, Be full, Living room and Space Shuttle in Chinese.
When not exploring the tapes and CDs, I’ve been finding the first record of the Rolling Stones’ Hot Rocks to be my workout album of choice of late. I have also actually shifted from the bad side of 150 to the better side for enough time now that I am comfortable mentioning it. And then, I wore shorts the other day, out, outside in the world, in public, for a good three hours. I haven’t done that in many years and I can say I didn’t hear anyone laughing at me behind my back. Of course my hearing’s not what it used to be, and frankly, I wasn’t even paying attention.
I’ve always been reluctant to allow gentlemen friends to buy me electronics. Such big purchases and usually what they think I should have rather than what I would like. But we must know by now that I’ve got issues. Another being my resistance to CDs after having a not so easy transition from album to cassette tape. But my stereo already had a dual tape deck so I did make the transition on my own and when I wanted. Then both album and tape were out and CDs were in. I didn’t have a CD player so I just went without. A couple of men I had dated over a few year span of time had offered to buy me a CD player, were even anxious to do so, but I said nay. Then one day, oh about 10 or more years ago, the ex (who was indeed ex then) comes over to take me out for my birthday. He steps in the door and hands me my present. It was wrapped but I could tell it was obviously a CD and being that I had nothing on which to play it, I cheerfully opened it and thanked him sincerely and convincingly I thought when I saw it was Eurythmics Greatest Hits.
“I forgot,” he said, “do you have a CD player?” “Well, no,” I replied a little embarrassed at being found out. He opened the front door, stepped out and came back in with the box that contained my first and only CD player. It has come in handy for the radio, the tape deck and I have the turntable hooked up to it. I’m wondering now since I need to build up my CD collection if it isn’t time to invest in something new. I’ve a feeling that it’s been the cause of by broken cassettes as I now have to open the tape deck door with the aid of a paperclip, and there is this new MP3 thing I should look into. But it was nice of the ex, wasn’t it?
The Eurythmics was a good choice too. I didn’t have any music by them until this CD that was released in 1991, the year after they broke up, though they do get back together now and again. Dave Stewart was the other half of the duo that featured the awesome Annie Lennox. What a voice, what a presence. Her characters; male, female and androgynous were so well executed as they seemed more innate than gimmicky. Her male character Earl, that I remember first seeing at the Grammys hosted by the late John Denver, was ripped off by the reigning gimmick queen, Lady Gaga, who’s made a career of being a pretty good copycat, capitalizing on the fact that history repeats itself and most of us have short memories. I suppose her shtick is new to her fans and that’s fine. I know nothing of her music as it’s of no interest to me, but I have heard her speak in conversation and she’s no idiot.
The Eurythmics CD, my first CD, provided an adequate workout and will not be brought out again for that purpose.
I bought this CD long before I purchased my record player and before the exercising through my albums from A to Z was even a thought in my mind. It was on sale at Barnes & Noble, which reminds me to get back there to see what else they’ve got.
What I remember about The Association from the Ed Sullivan show, then later on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour is that they seemed so much larger than the usual 4-5 member rock bands of the mid-60s, and all six members sang, the task of lead singer not falling on just one set of shoulders. In reviewing their history, I found that some members came from Frank Zappa’s pre-Mothers group and The New Christy Minstrels. They were noted for their harmonizing and for the fact that they all came from different states including Hawaii, which for me at the time was more like a foreign nation. But even though I was a mere 10 when it came out, I remember thinking that the song “Cherish” was one of the most beautiful songs I’d ever heard (after “Because” by The Dave Clark Five). I would still rank it highly although it misled me into thinking that all boys with evil intentions wanted was to touch your face, your hands and gaze into your eyes – the cads. And then there was the “Along ComesMary” controversy, whether it was about marijuana, once nicknamed Mary Jane by our elders, or not. It may well be. Remember the whole big to do about the gay Teletubby. While we were calling the Christian Right nuts (c’mon, he was bigger than the others, had a deeper voice, was lavender in color, had a triangle on his head and carried a big red purse), the point would be better made not to deny these things, whether a teletubby is gay or whether a song from 1966 was about marijuana, but to just shrug and say who cares. In any case, here’s a link to a few Association songs, without “Cherish” which was one of their first hits. I looked for them on Ed Sullivan, but the Smothers Brothers is just as good. Really. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iq5bUnvKq94&list=RDIq5bUnvKq94#t=41
As a workout CD, the whole thing is only a half an hour long and I didn’t recognize many of the songs.
The Walrus Was Paul 