So the American election is over. Or is it? Is the American dream dead? Is it dying? Stay tuned on Sunday for the second part Roxanne Tellier’s incisive analysis of this major event, just another example of the great writing available on this blog. For my part this week I will focus on my adventures with the animal kingdom. While there will be some “Cat” adventures, most of these tales will be about the more feral side of local fauna. I hope you like it.
Late one night in very late 1976, a singer acquaintance of mine burst into the (condemned) house I was then sharing with the neighbourhood bar band, shouting “You will never believe what I just saw in Toronto tonight! These four guys with Brian Jones haircuts wearing drainpipe Levis, singing all these really fast, short songs. Lots of ’em, too! And the best part? NO GUITAR SOLOS!”
Stan Freberg passed away on Tuesday, April 7th, 2015 in Santa Monica, California. He was 88. Despite his incredible success in the recording world (albeit in the 1950’s), radio, television and advertising (Freberg is in the Advertising Hall of Fame after all), somehow, Stan wasn’t hip enough for the TMZ generation. They’d rather report on yet another lame Kardashian/Jenner photo op, so Stan’s passing didn’t even merit a mention on their popular website or TV show, although his obituary did make the New York Times.
Wellllllll……all I can say is “I was there”. Up in the nosebleeds with the rest of the folks in the so-called “cheap seats”. My date for the evening and I had a direct aim at the stage(s), perfect viewing. I have no idea what you couch potatoes were seeing at various stages of the programme, but it was definitely different from the TV version.
I grew up in the days when musicals were as or more popular than any other form of cinema, and the stars of musicals on stage and screen were huge draws on Sunday night’s Ed Sullivan.
This column is the first of what hopefully, will become more of a regular one on DBAWIS by yours truly. My intention (and we all know what happens to intentions, especially good ones) is to take a closer look at some of the hit records and hit makers from the rock era using some of my interview archives.
Jim Colegrove, for those who don’t know, started in the music business before The Beatles were The Beatles— for you young turks, like, the Stone Age. He has spent his decades in music— making it, producing it, listening to it— doing just about everything one can do with it. He has forgotten more about music and the business than most of us will ever know. Lucky for us, though, he took notes. This is an historical look not only at the life of Jim Colegrove, musician, but Jim Colegrove, human; at the times and the changes both musically and culturally. It is Part Two if his story. Before you read this, you might want to read Part 1: Jim Colegrove, The Early Years (click here—not required, but it would give you some background which might come in handy.
Ramping up to the 50th anniversary of The Beatles February 9, 1964 appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, it’s easy to forget that one of the other acts on that same show, on that same evening, featured a slight, young “Artful Dodger” – one David Jones, aged 19, belting out a song from the hit Broadway play Oliver! During that performance Jones sang “I’d Do Anything” with the entire cast.
Well, we survived 2013. Most of us anyway. The entertainment industry lost nearly an entire generation of scenemakers from Jackie Lomax to Ray Manzarek to Slim Whitman to James Gandolfini to Annette Funicello to Peter O’Toole. The people making some of the greatest art of the last century have left it up to us to carry on without them. And we’re failing to do so at an alarming rate. Can you imagine anyone mourning the 
loss of a Jonas Brother or Paris Hilton in 50 or 60 years time other than their families? The global glue that connects us through the arts has been replaced by the transient flypaper brought to us by Snatch Chat and Twatter. No wonder we hold onto our pop icons from the past for so long. Once they’re gone, we might very well lose the soul of music, film, stage, etc., forever. And that’s not just me spewing my usual dramatic hyperbole. I usually say let sleeping dogs lie while the new generation wages their own rebellion. Except the new rebellion wears designer logos, auto-tunes and sues the estates of dead soul singers pre-emptively in case the estate sues them first for stealing said dead soul singer’s music [Yeah, I’m talking about you Robin TheDicke].
I’ll be 50 years old on November 19th (send no cards, just cash, please). A half century of fun, frivolity and heart-ache. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of the former 
and less of the latter. Annually, I chase the notoriety of the JFK assassination by three days…and every f*cking thing The Beatles have ever done. My moments of personal glory will always be overshadowed by what they did on my birthday in various years:
Bullseye Records of Canada
