Come Gather ‘Round People

I recently picked up the Bob Dylan 30^th Anniversary Tribute concert DVD.  Dunno why they kept us waiting 22 years, but it was worth the wait.

Great performances by an all-start cast.  And some of the best songs ever written.

I watched the DVD with someone who’s a little younger than me, who asked, “What’s the big deal about Dylan anyway?”  The question was influenced by this person’s limited exposure to Dylan, which is mostly latter day Dylan, the cat with the cartoonish voice, dark sound and suicidal lyrics.

But that’s not the Dylan I know.  Well, I do, and I think he’s kinda cool too (in his own way).

Anyway, I responded, “Just listen!  Look who’s on the stage!”  A substantial number of my favourite artists, some of the most successful of all time, were influenced by Bob Dylan.  They said as much, and they proved their assertion in their renditions of his songs.

More than any other artist, Dylan is the link that connects our modern music – and culture – with the past.  Sure, Clapton and Page dug out some blues gems. Yes, The Beatles and The Stones played Nashville, Motown and Memphis with conviction. 

But Dylan is the conduit.  Delta Blues, Hillbilly folk, sea shanties, gospel, ballads, poems, stories … It was as if he had absorbed a dozen working-man’s cultures, and poured it out into the modern world.  Folk, rock and roll, soul, blues rock, R&B, folk rock … he’s touched it all, and shown us where it all came from.

And he spoke the truth, fearlessly.  It’s too bad we stopped listening.  We better start swimming.

Voodoo Child or Revolutionary?

I was re-watching my Jimi Hendrix Band of Gypsies DVD the other day and received a whole new insight into the creative process. New for me anyway.

The most commonly held belief, persistent for at least three millenia now, is that of The Muse. You know, some divine or unseen force inspires the artist to create something really cool. Especially when we're astonished, it's easy to view creativity as something mystical.

A second view is what I'll call The Student theory. You study what's gone on before. You pay homage. You absorb. You work at it. And eventually something new starts coming out. Think Clapton. Think Keith Richards.

How many times have you heard a major artist say, "we were just trying to sound like ..."? It's a messy process. It's about experimentation, exploration, curiosity. It aligns with Thomas Edison's famous line about genius being 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. I think it applies to most artists.

But not Hendrix. He was just so out there, The Muse theory had to apply, although with him it was maybe less of a supernatural power than a portal into an alternate universe.

On the DVD, though, you get a new perspective. In the interviews, his friends and colleagues talked about a deliberate effort to create something brand new, something neither white nor black, neither rock nor soul, something unifying, something transcendent.

I guess I missed all that at the time. I mean, his music was unlike anything else. And he was one trippy cat, so in countless interviews he never made much sense to me. I put it down to The Muse (and the drugs), but maybe it was something else.

These things aren't exclusive of course. Everything overlaps. Hendrix was a student; he did his time. And he was inspired, no question.

I just have to add a third image now: that of Jimi standing on the barricades.

The Endless Groove

People tend to associate the groove with American R&B, but endless groove are everywhere.

You've got your Irish groove (U2, Bad), your American groove (John Lee Hooker, Boogie Chillun),  your Jamaican groove (Bob Marley, Get Up Stand Up), your English groove (The Cult, She Sells Sanctuary), your Guyanese groove (Eddy Grant, Electric Avenue), and your good old Canadian groove (April Wine, Say Hello).

You've got your classic soul groove (Aretha Franklin, Chain of Fools), your 80's New Wave R&B groove (The Fixx, One Thing Leads To Another), your low-down moanin' blues groove (John Lee Hooker, Tupelo), and your psychedelic boogie groove (Canned Heat, On The Road Again).

You've got your electrofunk groove (Marrs, Pump Up The Volume), your reggae groove (Bob Marley, Stir It Up), your folk groove (Donovan, Riki Tiki Tavi), your dance groove (k-os, Crabbukit), and your I-am-all-genres-at-once groove (Lenny Kravitz, Fly Away).

You wouldn't call Bob Dylan or Jimi Hendrix R&B guys, but they did it (All Along The Watchtower). Ditto Steve Miller (Wintertime), Bruce Cockburn (If A Tree Falls), and Collective Soul (December).

Maybe black people "own" the groove, 'cause they do dominate the list.  But white boys can definitely hold their own (Eric Burden, Spill The Wine; Van Morrison, Gloria; George Thorogood, Bad To The Bone; Warren Zevon, Werewolves Of London).

The groove is elemental.  It knows no boundaries.  It unites us all.

Groove on, people.