Butterflies Above Our Nation

Sure, I know that Woodstock started out as a commercial enterprise.  I realize that it was basically a disaster.  I understand that most of the positive things happened by accident.  And I accept that the ‘Woodstock Nation’ was an illusion that would never materialize.

To which I say this: If we don’t grasp at illusions, if we don’t embrace fantasies, if we don’t chase dreams, there can be no magic in our lives.

And what’s the point of that?

The Millennial Barrier

Some albums transcend their eras, says Rolling Stone – and some don’t.  The 40 Albums Baby Boomers Loved But Millennials Don’t Know (whew! What a long Title!) list includes some great music that somehow hasn’t made it across the generational divide.

Some of the albums listed are shocking.  I mean, how can Cocaine or Money For Nothing be played to death on the radio and not be known?  Ditto entries by ZZ Top, Steve Miller or Bob Seger.  Yeah, I know we’re talking albums not singles, but sheesh!

Many albums listed did not surprise me, though.  I know they were very popular, but nothing about Roberta Flack or The Commodores sounds very transcendent to me.  And Rick Wakeman’s Journey To The Centre of the Earth is described by RS as bombastic and overwrought, so I’m guessing they’re not really recommending it?

Alice’s Restaurant was a joy in 1967-8-9, but simply not relevant by, say, 1972, so no surprise there.  The Concert for Bangladesh?  Listen, RS, everyone bought it because it was George and because of the all-star lineup.  But nobody played it more than once.

A lot of the stuff listed I’d be hard pressed to say I miss – Moody Blues, Supertramp, Phil Collins … they just didn’t age very well.

Nice to see Johnny Winter and Humble Pie listed, though.  I never understood why they don’t get more coverage on the classic rock radio playlists.  And as Jack White, Joe Bonamassa, Gary Clarke Jr. and The Black Keys have proven, blues rock just won’t go away, so they should be heard.

Last of the Brooklyn Cowboys

I saw Arlo Guthrie in concert a while back.  What a treat.

He is still a hippy.  Self-deprecating, but not apologetic.  Sincere, but not cynical.  Kind of like, “ya I guess we were kinda naïve, but we were on the right track, don’t you think?”

It can’t be easy being Arlo Guthrie.  A legendary father, a luminous host of friends and mentors.  A past he can’t walk away from, even as he moves steadily forward.

Well, he did a fine job.  Great tunes, funny stories, honesty and integrity all wrapped up in a real nice vibe.

Attaboy, Arlo.  Keep chasing that happy feeling all over the world.

Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me

With a nod to the great/ongoing recession, Gibson has a list of 10 Songs For Hard Times.

Here's the list:
Patches, by Clarence Carter
Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out, by Derek and the Dominos
Coal Miner's Daughter, by Loretta Lynn
Busted, by Ray Charles
Inner City Blues, by Marvin Gaye
Aqualung, by Jethro Tull
Kill The Poor, by The Dead Kennedys
Waitin' on a Train, by Jimmie Rodgers
No Woman, No Cry, by Bob Marley
Why I Sing The Blues, by B.B. King

Lotta time, ground and genres covered by this list.  In fact, not sure many of these tunes live up to the genre in the title "Poor Man's Blues: 10 Songs For Hard Times."

A little curious about Aqualung, 'cause frankly I never saw him as a sympathetic character.  Surprised not to see anything by the likes of Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger.  I might have added:
Hobo's Lullaby, Woody or Arlo Gurthrie's versions
Match Box Blues, anyone's version, including (especially?) Ringo's
House Rent Boogie, by John Lee Hooker
Soon As I Get Paid or Crapped Out Again, by Keb Mo

What's surprising, really, is that there aren't a lot more current songs out there.  I'm pretty sure people are suffering, and they appear to be more than a little ticked off.

Where's the musical expression, people?

Back To The Garden

The Woodstock Festival ended 43 years ago today.  For a year or so afterwards, everything was so cool, so groovy, so possible.

Woodstock was a feeling, an attitude, a nation.  Then it became a ghost, a legend, maybe even a joke.

When did it die?  Five months later when a Hells Angel stabbed someone at the Stones concert at Altamont?  When Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison added their names to the celebrity death roll?  When the Vietnam War ended and there was no longer a unifying cause?  When glam rock, disco and prog rock snuck onto the scene?  Or was it already dying while Hendrix played his plaintiff guitar instrumental as people picked through the mud and the garbage to find shoes to wear home?

In the end, it was just a music festival, I guess.  A few nice ideas, but no substance.  But it could have been so much more.

One thing is for sure:  we’re no longer all feeding each other.