Friday, January 29, 2016


This is a lit of musicians who had a direct influence over my love of music so far during my lifetime and have passed on.  The list is by no means complete.  The names listed in all uppercase are the big guns, the ones that I felt their loss to the world was huge.  The ones who not only influenced me and the world, but influenced the direction of music.  These are the greats.

DUANE ALLMAN, Lynn Anderson, Louis Armstrong, Eddy Arnold, CHET ATKINS, Hoyt Axton, John Baldry, Mike Bloomfield, Marc Bolan, Tommy Bolin, John Bonham, Sonny Bono, Mike Botts, DAVID BOWIE, Delany Bramlett, Eric Braunn, James Brown, Jack Bruce, DAVE BRUBECK, Paul Butterfield, David Byron, Tommy Caldwell, Troy Caldwell, J.J.CALE, Jim Capaldi, Karen Carpenter, JOHNNY CASH, HARRY CHAPIN, RAY CHARLES, Clarence Clemons, Patsy Cline, Joe Cocker, Nat King Cole, Allen Collins, John Coltrane, SAM COOKE, Floyd Cramer, Papa John Creach, Jim Croce, King Curtis, Rick Danko, Bobby Darin, Hal David, Miles Davis, Jimmy Dean, John Denver, Bo Diddley, Lee Dorman, Donald Dunn, Jerry Edmonton, Duke Ellington, Cass Elliot, John Entwistle, Brian Epstein, Danny Federici, Freddy Fender, Dan Fogelberg, Tom Fogerty, Glenn Frey, Rory Gallagher, JERRY GARCIA, Marvin Gaye, Maurice Gibb, Robin Gibb, Gerry Goffin, Andrew Gold, Leslie Gore, Bill Graham, Dobi Gray, Rick Grech, Jimmy Greenspoon, James Griffin, James Gurley, Marvin Hamlisch, GEORGE HARRISON, Richie Havens, Isaac Hayes, LEVON HELM, JIMI HENDRIX, BUDDY HOLLY, JOHN LEE HOOKER, NICKY HOPKINS, Michael Jackson, WAYLON JENNINGS, Brian Jones, Davy Jones, JANIS JOPLIN, Paul Kantner, Terry Kath, Albert King, B.B. KING, Don Kirshner, Larry Knetchel, Ronnie Lane, Nicolette Larson, Peggy Lee, JOHN LENNON, Jon Lord, Richard Manuel, Ray Manzarek, BOB MARLEY, Steve Marriott, Dean Martin, Curtis Mayfield, Bob Mayo, Ian McLagan, Freddy Mercury, Mitch Mitchell, Keith Moon, JIM MORRISON, Dee Murray, Rick Nelson, HARRY NILSSON, LAURA NYRO, Berry Oakley, ROY ORBISON, Patti Page, Robert Palmer, Gram Parsons, LES PAUL, Dan Peek, Carl Perkins, John Phillips, Wilson Pickett, ELVIS PRESLEY, Billy Preston, Ray Price, Eddie Rabbit, Gerry Rafferty, Lou Rawls, Otis Redding, Jerry Reed, LOU REED, Jim Reeves, Paul Revere, Charlie Rich, Marty Robbins, Billy Joe Royal, David Ruffin, Dan Seals, PETE SEEGER, Joe Shermie, Del Shannon, FRANK SINATRA, Percy Sledge, Phoebe Snow, Joe South, Dusty Springfield, Chris Squire, B.W. Stevenson, Ian Stewart, Joe Tex, Mary Travers, Ronnie Van Zant, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Muddy Waters, Bob Welch, Cory Wells, HANK WILLIAMS, Johnny Winter, Bobby Womack, FRANK ZAPPA, WARREN ZEVON ........................

Like I said, not a complete list but for me, this list brings about a mish mash of styles in music that has shaped my wide appreciation of music.

The web site was a big help in constructing this list.  There is no way I could have remembered all of these influences over my lifetime.

Monday, January 25, 2016


The setting is a small concert hall.  Everything is covered in darkness.  Slowly the audience recognizes that something special is about to happen.  The longer the darkness persists, the quieter the small theatre becomes until the noise of the crowd succumbs to the darkness.  It is dark.  It is quiet.  Then a spotlight clicks on and lights up the tall figure off to the left of the stage.  He slowly strums his guitar, picking out notes among the chords and begins to make the harmonica around his neck wail sadly and slowly.  The crowd recognizes the song but remains quiet, knowing that this is a special moment that the man on stage has been sharing with his listeners for over forty years now.  It is a special and private moment made public and from deep down in his soul, with a heavy heart and his body being drained of emotion for this moment in time, the singer begins to sing his song.  From the start you know the words are more than lyrics,  they are from a time long ago that the singer has never been able to let go of.   "I caught you knockin' at my cellar door ... I love you baby can I have some more?  oooh ... ohhh .. the damage done.... ".  Neil Young begins singing the story of a long lost friend who lost his life to heroin when both of them were just beginning their trip as artists in the music world.  Even though the crowd has heard him perform this song hundreds of times, the pain and emotion that Young feels still comes from deep inside him and you can feel it.  You can hear it.  His emotions begin to touch you and your emotions begin to seep through.  There is not another song on this earth that can bring about truth the way "The Needle and the Damage Done" can.  The audience respects Young's words and remain silent until he strikes the finishing chords, the spotlight goes out, and Young gathers himself to perform the next song.  The vast majority of Neil Young's music is written from his soul, his heart, his life experiences.  Each one carries a special meaning that no one can really understand except for Neil Young.  And so the concert continues as Young sings his life out to the crowd that has gathered.  It is a song that no one else should attempt.  No one would be able to do it justice the way Young does because the song is Neil Young personified.

There is a young teenager sitting in his sister's room while she is out.  She has recently received a few new albums by way of joining a record club.  He pulls out an album entitled "Chicago Transit Authority" and sets the needle down between two grooves on the record.  A soft piano begins to play and is shortly joined by a bass and a soft drummer before the the magical voice of Terry Kath comes slipping through the beauty of instruments to add the beauty of voice and soul to his ears. "As time goes on ... I realize ... Just what you mean ... to me....".  It is a song to Kath's love of his life and every word coming out is so filled with sincerity and love that the teenager knows that this man is real.  The song is real.  The words are more than just words, they transcend the world of words and become true heart felt feelings.  "Colour My World" will stick with the teen for the rest of his life.  Whenever he hears it from now on, that special someone in his life will appear next to his side in spirit, in his mind.  No one could ever sing this song and put their raw emotions on display the way that Kath does.  Terry Kath would be dead in four short years, some say suicide others say accident, but either way the voice of Terry Kath would be silenced .... except on the recordings he did and "Colour My World" would bring his emotions and his love pouring out to generations to come, touching souls and hearts with his love and his sincerity.

"He was born in the summer of his 27th year.... " and with those words John Denver begins to tell another of his stories of his life and his loves.  This one was the love he had found in Colorado, his love of the mountains, the nature that surrounded him that he could see so much beauty in.  He sang of his discovery of the Rocky Mountains and how it changed his life forever.  He sang with the same emotion as someone singing about a true love.  He sang of how his Utopian life was slowly changing as the beauty of Colorado began to be dismantled to make room for more and more people who saw the same beauty as he did.  The beauty they were experiencing was not comparable to the beauty he had experienced when he fell in love with the land, the wildlife, and nature in general.  It is a song of heartbreak and through his voice and his words, you can feel and hear the pain his soul is feeling.  His little corner of Colorado was changing and he wept for it.  It was a true love of his and he was losing it and only John Denver could express that pain he felt with his words.  Others might sing the song as a tribute to him, but they never came close because to John Denver, the song was a tribute to a beautiful land.  Only John Denver could sing that song with the depth that he was able to.

Don McLean wrote and sang of his quest to get rid of his lonely thoughts and the way his thinking brought him down emotionally.  He begged for help from an old friend to help him sort things out while realizing that no one could.  The song was "Crossroads" and was lost on an album filled with happier songs, hits like "American Pie", "Vincent", and "And I Love Her So".  He asks if anyone can remember who he was, what he was like and can they help him get back to where he was while coming to realize that every road he traveled in his mind brought him back to the same place of despair.  "Can you remember who I was?  Can you still feel it? Can you find my pain? Can you heal it?"  The answer is no.  They can't feel it, they can't find it and they can't heal it.  So he is left to suffer in sighs as he continues his journey that yields no answers.  Can others sing this song?  of course they can.  Can they put the understanding that was in McLean's mind and put that understanding into the emotion and endless desire that McLean did?  No.  Only Don McLean can sing that song knowing what is behind it in his mind.

I sit and I listen to Paul Simon sing about wanting to be left alone to protect himself from the pain that others bring about to him in his life in "I Am A Rock".  I identify with the song so very much that it chokes me up most of the time I hear it.  I can identify with it.  I can understand the words and the feelings they bring out.  The question is, can I feel or ever know how Simon felt as he wrote these words?  What his mind was going through?  How he felt about his life and everything swirling around it?  the answer is no, I cannot.  I can let his words speak to me, I can put them into my own situation but there is no way, even if I could sing, that I would be able to perform this song with all of the pain and desire that Simon feels when he performs it.  It would be silly of me to think I could.  It is a personal song written by Paul Simon for Paul Simon.  No one can give these words the power that Simon can give them.  No one should try to.  Not even me.

That is what this entry is about.  I have previously written about song writers being the philosophers of today.  I think that is slowly slipping away as these great writer/philosophers begin to age and leave us behind with a finite catalog of their work.  Some of the songs that these writers write should be handled very carefully and respectfully.  These words represent a person's life, their emotions and their pain as well as happiness.  Other artists can and will record covers of these songs and many will try to reconstruct the feelings that the writers poured into them, but they won't be able to match them.

There are so many songs and so many writers who fit into the class of these few examples that I gave here.  Jim Croce wrote about "Like the pine trees lining the lonesome road ... I got a name..."  Hank Williams wrote of being so lonesome he could cry.  John Lennon wrote of "I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round..."   John Fogerty wrote of his early years and "If I only had a dollar, for every song I've sung. And every time I've had to play while people sat there drunk. You know, I'd catch the next train back to where I live..."  The list truly does go on forever.  There are some songs that should be left as they are, remembered as they were meant to be remembered as.

Some songs should be left undisturbed so future generations can hear and feel the emotion that was coming out of these artists mouths as they told their story.

Paul Simon

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Friday, January 22, 2016


"We could be heroes .. if just for one day....." - David Bowie

I have been thinking about writing this post since the morning I woke up, turned on the news and then I was started to make my way to start to get ready for the day I heard "David Bowie, dead at 69" and I stopped in my tracks.  David Bowie was gone and the thought came to me that all of the Bowie I had heard would be all the Bowie I would hear.  No more Bowie.  It became clear, for the first time, that the golden age of rock was coming to an end.

I know there will be people who don't agree with me about the golden age of rock thing, but for me it was.  I have always considered a generation to be twenty years.  For me the opening generation of rock and roll was from 1960 to 1980.  Those twenty years was when rock grew up and went through changes and gave us the true legends  of rock.

Yes there were the pre-1960 legends.  Those that laid the foundation for the generation that was about to burst upon the scene.  Buddy Holly, Little Richard, and Chuck Berry were a few of those whose music is the solid base for rock.  The world learned early about losing icons and having their music silenced.  Buddy Holly and Patsy Cline died in plane crashes.  All the Buddy Holly we have now is all we will ever get and to many, including me, it just isn't enough.  The Buddy Holly catalog should be much larger than it ended up being.

With the arrival of the sixties rock came into it's own with far too many artists to list here.  There were different sounds or styles depending upon where the music originated.  There was the British invasion that gave us the Beatles and the Rolling Stones early on.  Some of the American artists congregated in a city called Detroit and the Motown sound was created by Berry Gordy.  San Fransisco brought it's own sound and New York became a hotbed of song writers in the Brill Building in Hell's Kitchen who would become iconic performers in their own right.

I could write for hours on this but I could not give this period of time justice.  This piece isn't about the artist during the generation but rather the passing of a generation.  We went though losing kings and queens through accidents which robbed the world of their art long before the world was ready to let go.  We lost music to drugs and to mental illness.  Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendricks, Jim Morrison had so very much more to give but were taken.  Terry Kath, the genius and soul behind the group Chicago killed himself with a bullet shortly after the release of their fifth album.  Chicago never matched the quality of the first five albums after Kath's passing.  John Denver's brilliance in songwriting went down with his little plane one afternoon A brilliant young songwriter named Jim Croce who had just begun to be noticed by the world from his wonderful songs was in a plane that went down.  Stevie Ray Vaughn, one of the undisputed greatest guitar players in history died in a helicopter while heading to a stage.

The heroes of southern rock suffered as well.  The group Lynyrd Skynyrd took away one of the greatest voices from the south when their plane found a group of trees instead of the runway.  Duane Allman, by my standards the granddaddy of southern rock slid his motorcycle into a truck on a sunny afternoon.

Then there was John Lennon.  If you are familiar with this blog, you know how I feel abut John Lennon.  It has been thirty five years since his voice was silenced by a mentally disturbed soul.  I won't go off on a tangent about Lennon.  There are plenty of entries to read on this blog about him and his talent and his death.  The Lennon catalog is closed like so many others.  No more Lennon.

Lately though I have noticed that the first generation of rock was beginning to be effected by old age.  Joni Mitchell and her wonderful voice was silenced by disease as was Linda Ronstandt's.  Lou Reed passed away one day and I was saddened.  It didn't hit me that time was taking away our rock heroes until that morning when I heard that Bowie had died.  A couple of days later, we learned that Glenn Frey of Eagles fame had died.  This was when it hit me and believe me it hit me hard.

Bowie was one of the true geniuses of the art and definitely one of my favorites.  I truly admired Bowie and his talents.  Bowie could transform himself into different personas as his art progressed and became more diverse and finally main stream.  Bowie is not with us anymore.  He was 69.  Glenn Frey was 67.  Lou Reed was 71.  George Harrison was 58.

I began to think of other rock icons, heroes and realized that most are in their 70's, and closing in on their 80's.  Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Pete Townsend, Paul Simon, Rod Stewart, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Carol King, James Taylor, Steven Tyler, Jackson Browne, Robert Plant, John Fogerty plus many many others are more or less in a race against time, a race to continue to produce their art while they still can.

As far as this generation thing goes, I consider U2 to be the last of the generation of 1960-1980.  The Magic Generation.  The star of U2, Bono, is 55.  Bono is still producing art and hopefully he will be for a very long time but there is this thing about time.

You see "Time waits for no one"  as the Stones told us many many years ago.  We never know when another of these great artists from that great generation will be silenced and there will be no more of their art to appreciate.

When Bono leaves us, the great generation of rock will have come to an end.

Rock on people.  Rock on while you still can.

That includes you Mom and Dad.