I think we’re more than all in agreement here that something very, very special took place during the middle 1960’s; a magical, monumental something in the air(waves) which gave rise to an undeniable socio-artistic upheaval courtesy of bards like Dylan, bands like the Beatles, filmmakers like Kubrick and, if I may push the issue quite thinly, television the likes of Get Smart and Green Acres to boot.
I’ve been overwhelmed, recently, with the events swirling around us. It’s too much. And today, although I had planned a look into trump and Ford’s plans to re-open schools this fall, I’m gonna take a pass, and a day off. Instead of current affairs, let’s enjoy the summer sun, and take a stroll down Memory Lane, to this slightly edited column that I first wrote in August of 2015.
How very different things look now, from the perspective of 2020, and this time of plague! Seems almost naughty to see people gathered together, without masks or social distancing! And I’m not sure if any of the places I mentioned then, are open now. Never mind… Take my hand, come along with me on the wayback machine, and forget about today for a while ….
I have always tried to live my life according to a number of tenets. Some are arguably limited in scope. For example, I view beer drinking as a perishable skill. Others are much more “pigeon-holed”, such as, despite what many of my military aviation buddies may think, I truly believe that a McDonnell Douglas F-4E Phantom II in “Europe One” camouflage is a thing of beauty indeed.
Others are more universal in application, however. One of my nearest and dearest is that I have always tried to have strong women in my life, even if only on the periphery. Today’s column is about one of those women, my late sister Mary.
Armed with my “media” credentials, my guidebook and my Metropass, I took on Canadian Music Week. (Note that all of the bands/artists that I mention in this column have Facebook pages, and are well worth further study, should you feel so inclined. It was a very busy week!)
Good morning, campers!
It’s your old pal Keith Moon here. You know, “Moonie,” “Moon the Loon” …or, as I very much prefer, The Greatest Rock and Roll Drummer that Ever Was, that is. Or was. I think… But I digress.
Anyroad, we meet today so that I may bring your undivided attention to this marvelous DVD entitled – just a moment here, as I do want to make sure I get this completely correct – ahh, yes. Keith Moon, Final 24: His Final Hours.
I have “moved” Janis Joplin from my Women in Rock series to this one. When I started the “Women of ……” series, I felt she had a foot in both camps. However, the more I listen to Joplin the more I realize her feet were far more firmly planted in the blues as her voice alone attests. There have been comparisons over the years between Maggie Bell and Janis Joplin. They are reminiscent of each other and that starts with the hair. Scotland is steeped in the blues (just listen to the pipes and some of the Celtic music) but the seeds were planted, and the roots run to the core of the earth, in the U.S.’s “deep south”. Keep in mind, much of the southern U.S. became home to the Scots fleeing the oppressive English in the late 1700’s. Combine that with the African “slave” songs….mix with oppressive heat and stir….so, sometimes I wonder, who exactly influenced whom?
We’re in an interesting transitional period with music. Not the industry part that I’ve frequently beaten up and kicked to the curb time and time again. No, I’m talking about musical direction. I had hoped upon hope that post-9/11 the singer-songwriter would make a massive mainstream comeback to usher in the silver age of thinking man’s music. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. The simpletons in charge of what we listen to doubled down on the stupid with the vacant tap dancing and lip-syncing of nubile females, effeminate boy bands and reality stars-turned-prime-time-embarrassments. ‘American Idol’ was the new A & R department for the future of music.
It was touch and go in the early part of 2016 for Classic Rock. Half the people that have ever made music in my lifetime died in the first 6 months. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but it looked like it was going to be up to The Rolling Stones to save the planet. Well, since the release of The Beatles documentary “Eight Days A Week” the geezers are rallying.
“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
In 1967, the Song of the Year was “Canada” by The Young Canada Singers. I was a geeky, gawky Montreal teen with cats eye glasses and a bad perm. My season’s pass to Expo 67 made me feel like a citizen of the world.
But in Toronto, another kind of world was coming together; one of young, talented musicians who’d flocked to Yorkville to find fame, if not fortune.
Grant Fullerton was one of them.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 