GARY PIG GOLD SEZ “JOHN ENTWISTLE: TOO LATE THE HERO”

“What I feel inside I can’t explain. That John Entwistle should die in his late fifties is totally unthinkable. He was the indestructible one. He was the rock. He was the island. He was the fulcrum on which it all hinged.” – Mick Farren

“John was the best. He made “My Generation,” along with the other lads, one of the greatest records of all time.” – Peter Noone

“I think John was the pivotal member of the most exciting rock band to emerge on the British music scene in the Sixties.” – Brian Auger

GARY PIG GOLD ON BOB DYLAN, A YONGE STREET BAR BAND, AND THE DEATH, 50 YEARS AGO THIS MONTH, OF ROCK AND ROLL

As most pretty-pointedly shown throughout Martin Scorsese’s remarkable No Direction Home, the ’66-model Bob Dylan was an American idol at the indisputable peak of his powers as the [insert your own convenient pigeonhole here] Poet/Laureate of a Generation, Crown Prince of the (Thinking Man’s) Hit Parade, or – my personal favorite – Snot-headed, Venom-spewing Anti-Rockstar of All Time.

Gary Pig Gold Most Fondly Remembers Our Pal Joey

 

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!”

GARY PIG GOLD: The Unforgetable Forgotten Rebels

With the release, in practically every format imaginable, of some TOO-long-awaited Forgotten Rebels tribute albums, not to mention an accompanying eBook even, I couldn’t help but cast what remains of my memory back to that good ol’ Summer of Hate, and….

Gary Pig Gold: THE MONKEES PRESENT

It may have taken me over forty years, but on June 16, 2011 I finally got to see one of my all-time favorite rock ‘n’ roll bands in concert.

Sure, at the highly tender age of eight-and-a-half I was undoubtedly, along with at least 73 million others, the ideal candidate to contract a terminal case of Beatlemania when Paul, George, Ringo and “Sorry girls, He’s Married” Britishly invaded The Ed Sullivan Show all those years ago. Instantly, I will admit, all aspirations of becoming an archaeologist and/or Formula One racer forever vanished beneath a monophonic haze of swirling seven-inch Capitol 45’s upon my parents’ hitherto genteel hi-fi console…