In Montreal in the sixties, growing up in a Catholic family, we were always encouraged to use our talents in religious gatherings. Even my Aunt Pat, blissfully unaware that she was tone-deaf, would raise her voice loudly and proudly in song. I sang at mass, first in Latin as the organ wheezed, and later in folk masses, where the guitar was the instrument of choice.
Radio – Same Ol’ Same Ol’
I don’t listen to the radio much these days…okay….sometimes when I’m driving but that’s mostly for road and weather reports. Music….not so much. What music I do hear is the rotation of the same songs or the same tired formula over and over and over…. I will admit I tune into Q107 but that’s more for the DJ banter and the stories than the music. ….and the commercials, on any station, send me over the edge!
Yeah, yeah, it’s been a week since the Saturday Night Live (SNL) special, and Bob’s given his views on the pros and cons. But I’m still thinking about what the show meant to me, in its heyday, and occasionally, since.
“Let them brush your rock and roll hair.” You knew it when you saw it, a great mop of hair that just screamed “I wanna rock!” From pompadours to mop tops, mullets to shags, spiked, layered, tossed like a salad or greased back in a duckass – for the Baby Boomers, the hair was the thing.
“Oh, you pretty things (you pretty things)
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 