Sunshine Came Softly

The other night, I had the pleasure of attending a Donovan concert in Toronto.

His voice isn’t what it used to be, but he’s such a good storyteller, and his songs practically sing themselves anyway, so it was all good.

What was especially heartwarming is that not everyone in the audience had white hair.  I was amazed at how many people under 30 were there – and they weren’t casual listeners.  They knew him.  They were fans.

Donovan himself described his music’s timeless appeal as hopeful melancholy.  He confronts that madness of our species, and shares his sadness at our willful self-destructiveness, but he celebrates the wonders of the world around us with an enduring spirit of hopefulness.

He is the hurdy gurdy man, singing songs of love.

I May Make You Feel, But I Can’t Make You Think

Prog Rock is an interesting genre.  Sometimes a band (or song) can blow you away with its imagination and musicianship.  Sometimes a band (or song) can leave you feeling, “What are they trying to prove?”

And reactions tend to be both extreme, and extremely personal.  One person’s “Man, this is so good,” can be another’s “How can you even listen to that?”

My favourite bit of self-indulgent showing off is Thick As A Brick by Jethro Tull.  You may agree, laugh uproariously, or hurl as you see fit, but for me it’s an amazing tour de force, as complex as any classical symphony or opera.

The transitions from section to section (and there are a lot of them) are seamless.  The intricacy of the arrangement is impressive.  And the tightness of the band is second to none.

Perhaps what’s most impressive, though, is that those cats played the entire piece live (I saw them do so in 1973), and they were just as tight as the record.

Love it or hate it, the one thing prog rock will do is impress you with the skill of the musicians.

True North Strong and Free

Rush notwithstanding; there is such a thing as Canadian rock and roll.  The best Canadian bands seem to be able to retain some of that bar band sound even after they’ve made it big.  You know that sound.  When you're digging the band in the bar.  In the bar.  That sound.

The Hip, 54:40, Tom Cochrane, The Northern Pikes, Colin James, The Arkells … even Our Lady Peace and The Guess Who.  They all preserved a bit of their roots, remained true.  

Makes ‘em more approachable, dontcha think?

Hopefully Enough

Happy birthday, John.
Baby's In Black, Shea Stadium

Got Live If You Want It

As the introduction to Rolling Stone’s 50 Greatest Live Albums of All Time says, it’s impossible to capture the frenzy (and I would add joy) of a great live show on record.  But as the list shows, there have been some awesome live recordings.

Confession:  in general, I have always preferred studio albums, because the sound quality is better, there’s less self-indulgence from the band, and the mistakes land on the cutting room floor.  But I still enjoy a good performance, and I love going to concerts.

The list has something to satisfy just about every musical taste, and it includes some career-establishing performances.  But for me, its main virtue is that it serves as a healthy reminder that music is meant to be enjoyed live.

We Salute You

To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the death of rock have been greatly exaggerated.

I was at the AC/DC concert in Quebec City last week, and I assure you that rock and roll is alive and very well, thank you very much.

Forever Man

It’s not a secret that Eric Clapton is my favourite guitarist, and I was fortunate enough to see the concert of a lifetime during his brief farewell stint at the Royal Albert Hall this past May.

I’ve seen him five times now, and each show was wonderful, but this one was special: a) because of the venue; b) because it was the last.  The bittersweet feeling that “this was it” dampened my enjoyment of a terrific performance, but I still came out of the hall breathless and exhilarated.

Clapton is the man.  You could endlessly debate who has more skill, who had the best solo, the best riff, the biggest wow factor, but Clapton’s body of work stands apart.  He’s given so much; it would be selfish to begrudge him his retirement.

Thanks, Eric.  You had the key to the highway.

Fu-fu-fu-foolin’

I still remember going out and buying my first VCR so I could record The Who’s farewell concert, which was simulcast from Maple Leaf Gardens in December, 1982.

Turns out they didn’t mean it – and still don’t since they’re already advertising their 50^th anniversary tour scheduled for 2015.  Well, half The Who anyway.

The Who were not alone in giving us a long goodbye, as Rolling Stone’s 10 Farewell Tours That Didn’t Stick makes clear.  Judas Priest, Kiss, Cher … heck, even Sinatra couldn’t resist the temptation to give ‘er one more go.  Well, if we’re going to buy the tickets, why not?

It’s probably a good thing that we did get fooled again.  Between farewell tours,  re-union tours and why-should-I-stop(?) tours, a fair amount of joy has been spread through the land in the last couple of decades.

Anyway, it gives us a good excuse to wear those “Still Pissed At Yoko” tee shirts.

Damn Right I Got The Blues

I had the pleasure of seeing Buddy Guy in concert a while back.  While I regard him as one of the lesser powers in my particular pantheon of musical gods, his status as living legend is more than well deserved.

At 78, he’s still got his chops, and he provided an insightful and entertaining trip down his own personal memory lane, paying tribute to many of the greats who inspired him.

He also had with him one young Quinn Sullivan, a ridiculously talented fifteen year-old who has just about all of Eric Clapton’s tricks nailed.  I mean nailed.  Not approximated the way less gifted schlepps like me can do – I mean nailed.

Young Quinn isn’t the first prodigy to be discovered and mentored by an old master.  Many of his predecessors faded away before their twentieth birthday.  I hope that’s not the case here.  This kid’s something special.

Excitement At Your Feet

I watched a concert of The Who Live in Texas in 1975 the other night, and couldn’t help thinking this is why I wasn’t big into recordings of live music back then.

I mean, the energy was great, but the lighting was terrible, the sound was lousy, and the band was wasted so they didn’t really play that well.  It kinda says something that The Who were regarded by many as the best touring band for a long time, and this is the best they could do?

Oh, excuse me.  Must run.  God appears to be throwing lightning bolts at my house.

Monster Live

The Rolling Stone 10 Best Live Albums list makes the point that a good live album could actually make a career, and that’s true.

The reverse was almost true too.  There were some pretty bad – make that pathetic – releases that seriously damaged the image of some otherwise unimpeachable stars (at least for me).

Here’s the list:

 1.  The Who – Live at Leeds

 2.  Allman Brothers – Live at the Fillmore East

 3.  Peter Frampton – Frampton Comes Alive!

 4.  Rolling Stones – Get Yer Ya-ya’s Out!

 5.  Kiss – Alive!

 6.  Deep Purple – Made In Japan

 7.  Little Feat – Waiting for Columbus

 8.  Nirvana - Unplugged

 9.  The Band – The Last Waltz

10. Bob Seger – Live Bullet

I wonder if it helps to have an exclamation mark as part of your title?

Some great music by some fabulous bands here for sure.  Some are amongst my all time favourites.

The write-up talks about the colossal mistake Townshend made by destroying the rest of the recordings from the tour  - featuring mostly material from Tommy, which is what dominated their shows at the time.  But I remember how incredibly refreshing it was to not hear Tommy, how cool it was to hear The Who rock out, simple, pure and raw.

The albums on the list that had the most impact on me were the ones that were accompanied by films.  The visuals helped overcome the poor sound quality.

To be fair, technology, professional standards and perhaps reduced or alternative substance abuse have tremendously improved what can be achieved in a live recording.  But back then, things were a bit rough and uneven.

Speaking of visuals, when I first heard The Beatles at Shea Stadium, I was embarrassed.  It sounded just awful.  Remember, this was released not long after Abbey Road, one of the cleanest, best produced albums of all time.  Now, when I watch the doctored-up clips on Anthology, I’m convinced Shea Stadium was the best concert performance of ever.

And I guess that’s the challenge of a live album: technology and taste aside, does the recording and the performance manage to convey the magic these musicians can conjure up?  

Anyway, this list sure is a good representation of my generation.

All The Madness In My Soul

When I watched the 12.12.12 Concert for Sandy Relief a while back, I was nothing less than astonished by Springsteen’s performance of Born To Run.

I mean, here’s a guy who’s 63 years old singing his a** off about teenage angst and meaning it.  And he’s convincing!

Sure he’s that good, but maybe the song carries him more than a little.

You know, it just might be the greatest rock song ever.  It’s got it all: the aforementioned teenage angst, plus rebellion, romance, danger, hope, even social commentary – delivered over one of the best riffs of all time.

I don’t know if Springsteen’s incredible energy still makes the song relevant, or if the power of the song still makes Springsteen an untamed force of nature.  But either way, it’s magic.

Rattle and Hum

I was watching the U2 movie a while back and it occurred to me that U2 was the last great rock band.

Don’t get me wrong; there have been a ton of wonderful bands over the last 20 years or so, but U2 was the last one that was larger than life.  You know, Rolling-Stones-Led-Zeppelin-Queen larger than life.  Can-do-no-wrong larger than life.  Know-they’re-as-big-as-Elvis larger than life.  You-should-listen-up larger than life.

Terrific movie.  If you haven’t seen it, do so.  Kinda interesting insights into the band (and ourselves), and constant reminders that these guys are good.  The musicianship, the energy, the passion  …  awesome.  And, although they have had some great moments over the last 25 years, the film catches U2 at their peak, playing songs from their best period. 

U2 carried on the tradition of rock super-hugeness.  And by the time the movie was made, they were also filling a void.  Zep was done.  Freddie, well not dead yet, but …  The Stones were iffy.  U2 were the last ones standing.

Lotta great bands and fabulous music out there, but no one since has managed to achieve the larger-than-life stature.  It’s a good thing we’ve had the boys from Dublin to carry the torch.

But it’s been a while.  Who’s gonna step up?

Name That Tune

Remember that TV show?  “I can name that tune in nn seconds.”  Well, Bob Dylan would have had me stumped.

I’ve always enjoyed it when an artist offers a new rendition of a song during a live performance.  “You might be tired of it; so am I.  So listen to this.”  It confirms that the song has an identity – a life – of its own, independent of the original recording, untouched by the endless repetition.

I saw a Bob Dylan concert, though, and he took things to a whole new level.  The applause that usually accompanies the opening strains of a favourite song was delayed until midway through the chorus.  And the applause was muffled by groans, grunts, whats and huhs?

New arrangements, different lyrics, new melodies (well, with Dylan, that’s maybe a guess).  Actually, it was less like Name That Tune, and more like Guess That Vegetable.

I mean, I was expecting different, maybe even strange.  And I know Dylan’s always been a “this is what I have to say, and this is how I want to say it.  Take it or leave it” kinda guy.  But it was like a band of gypsies rolled into town, heard a Dylan CD at the local bar, then went onstage and jammed it.  Talk about becoming a caricature of yourself!

Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve always admired Bob Dylan.  His music is timeless and his influence is incalculable.  I just don’t know what to make of this bizarre experience.

Something is happening here, but I don’t know what it is.  Do you, Mr. Jones?

Hey Hey My My

Whoever thinks rock and roll is dead should take the matter up with the 17,000 fans who crowded around me, whooping it up at a recent concert I saw featuring Death Cab For Cutie and The Tragically Hip.

Rock and roll can never die.

Oh My My

I saw Ringo in concert a while back.  It was pure joy from start to finish.

Can’t vouch for the rest of the crowd, but for me it wasn’t about seeing a former Beatle.  It was about Ringo.  Who cares if With A Little Help From My Friends isn’t as inspirational as Let It Be, if It Don’t Come Easy isn’t as deep in your consciousness as Nowhere Man, if – if you’re jaded enough to say it – he’s an also-ran in the vocal department?  Who cares?

What matters is watching a 72 year old bounding around stage acting like a 16 year old, having a ball, flashing peace signs – and meaning it.  He’s been doing this for over half a century, and it shows.  I mean: he’s not tired.  He’s professional.  He’s into it.  He’s still having fun, and it’s contagious.

Ringo is all about peace and love and rock and roll.  That’s a damn fine combination, and that’s what matters.  He just might be the coolest guy on the planet.

My Ears Are Ringing

It might get loud?  It does get loud.  Gibson has this list of The 10 Loudest Rock Bands of All Time.

Here’s the list:

Motorhead

The Who

MC5

AC/DC

My Bloody Valentine

Deep Purple

Led Zeppelin

Manowar

Leftfield

Kiss

Wish I’d seen The Who.  Ditto doubly for AC/DC. 

The article says excessive volume is as pointless and painful as shouting in the midst of a tornado, and they have a point.  But I think the music itself enters into the picture.

Rock music is supposed to be loud.  And a little bit of temporary pain is kinda fun – once in a while.  Unfortunately, too many bands use volume to cover up their sins.  They substitute volume for skill and discipline.  Some acts may wear the noise as a “badge of courage”, but the best acts impress at any volume.

Take Zeppelin, for instance, which for over two decades was the best concert I’d ever seen.  Maybe the decibel level was over the top, but you know, you could go home and listen to one of their acoustic numbers – at low volume – and know you were listening to masters.

No question excessive volume is not good for you, but it’s never about the volume, man.  It’s about the music.

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.

Talking About My Generation

I have always been a Who fan.  I respect Pete Townshend as a guitarist and as a composer.  They are terrific performers.

I was pleased, therefore, to see (Half) The Who at the Closing Ceremonies for the Olympics.  The show was meant to showcase the best of British music, and The Who definitely belonged there.

And it was cool - until they went into My Generation.  Daltrey is 68.  Townshend is 67.  I hope I die before I get old?  Moon and Entwhistle did die!

They had so many great songs.  It didn't have to be My Generation.

The things they do look awful cold.

A Hard Road

I saw John Mayall in concert a while back. Always a joy to see a legend perform.

And what a legend. Your textbook itinerant bluesman: working hard, grinding it out, spreading the word. Giving it up, getting very little back.

Always a footnote on someone else's career ... Eric Clapton, Peter Green, Mick Taylor, Coco Montoya, Walter Trout, Buddy Wittington, and now Rocky Athas. An impressive list of sidemen, but I understate.

Anyway, it was a fun show. Great tunes, tight band, lots of energy. Not bad for a 78 year old man.

Good work, John. You've been down so many roads. Glad to see you've still got room to move.