Bob Yodels Up the Canyon Part Five – The Review

Looking back, the musical and lifestyle Centre of the Universe that came into being in the mid ’60s wasn’t heralded by an anthem grown and harvested locally.  It was heralded by an edited 10 page-long poem written by a boy from Wisconsin, and set to music played by young and mostly forgotten studio musicians and recorded in New York.

In August of 1965 THIS is the song that Echoed in the Canyon from Sunset Strip to the San Fernando Valley. This is the song that fueled the moment.

It couldn’t be more ironic ….

Bob Yodels Up the Canyon Part Four – You Had to Be There

For no discernible reason, when it comes to music, I have constantly found myself in the right place at the right time.

Not in terms of my own, personal, trajectory through the music industries obstacle-ridden path or being able to overcome its many hidden pitfalls, false promises, and mustache twirling villains, but of being in the presence of popular music’s odd and unpredictable turning points and occasional legendary upheavals.

No, I wasn’t in Liverpool or London or the Brill Building/Folk Scare/Hip Hop eras of New York City, but the ones a little closer to home and then, in Canada.

One of these strange little coincidences took place in Southern California, on the Strip known as Sunset, and in the Canyon known as Laurel …and therein lies our tale …and the reason I feel that Echo in the Canyon is a poor assessment of the time and place, lacking in both passion, and connective tissue.

Bob Yodels Up the Canyon – Some Backstory …and A Sense of the People and Atmosphere of Laurel Canyon Back in the Day

The more I try to express my thoughts and feelings on the documentary, “Echo in the Canyon”, the more frustrated I get trying to put my finger on what, exactly. those thoughts and feelings are. After every viewing of the well-meant, but ultimately lacking mash-note to the tiny L.A. Basin enclave which had had a disproportionate impact on popular music, songwriters, and artists around the world, I became further and further upset with its lack of connective tissue to its subject, and started to feel uncomfortable just looking for something positive to say.

Bob Yodels Up the Canyon – An Interlude

Due to an obligation and a deadline I could not change, Part Two of Bob Yodels Up the Canyon will run on Friday. Today, in its place, is an Interlude …a slice of Life in the Canyon back in the ’60s, which has been published before, but hey, I coulda just not said anything and left the page blank but I’m not that kind of guy and I really am swamped and my cheque still hasn’t come, and the World Series on going to be on Fox, so there goes Bob’s Burgers, and we still don’t know if we’re going to get a grocery store across the street, and the lobby downstairs is crammed with voters, and it’s really dry in here and my skin is starting to itch …and where the hell is my cheque!? …Jebus! – The following was Originally Posted on August 24th 2012

Everybody loves California.

I mean EVERYBODY.

Segarini – Bob Yodels Up the Canyon Part One

PRELUDE

Portions of the following have been previously published in DBAWIS

Prior to 1967, I had been spending as much time as I could in L.A. (Hollywood County, to be specific), first with The Us, playing Cinnamon Cinders clubs in SoCal, and places like The London Fog on Sunset, then in search of the almighty record deal for my next band, The Family Tree …acquiring 2 (Mira, then RCA) while spending the better part of 1965 and ’66 sleeping on friends couches and floors, and even had a room at Suzie Hocum’s place for a time, down the hall from her other house guest, Gram Parsons. Great times then, with the music scene exploding on Sunset, and Laurel Canyon becoming the Centre of the Universe.

It was all in the service of my band at the time, The Family Tree, who had been the house band at the Whisky …but that was all about to change ….

Segarini: The Big Mudslide of 1969

Just firming up the new Friday lineup of writers. Until I do, you’re stuck with me on Fridays, at least this week anyway.