Sucking in the Seventies?

For the last several weeks, I've been fixated on the decade of my birth. I recently completed the 33 1/3 on Big Star's "Radio City" and Colum McCann's Let the Great World Spin. My beautiful wife and I watched "Man on Wire" and I've still been in the mode of my rock history class that just wrapped up the decade that Mick Jagger et al claimed that "sucked". And yet, so much of what I continue to discover, makes me love and appreciate the 1970s. Of late, I've acquired and have been spinning regularly Linda Ronstadt's "Simple Dreams", Steely Dan's first two or so lp's, Neil Young's "Live Rust" and my favorite, Bonnie Raitt's "Sweet Forgiveness". This last one, according to All Music Guide, only garnered two of five stars and yet, of my Bonnie lps, ranks number one. There aren't the "Angel of Montgomery's" or chart-topping singles but includes the '50s cover and the Jackson Browne knock-off. What makes the perfect Bonnie lp are the ballads that are so indicative of the era; chord changes that are predictable (for the era) but lacking in today's songs; her amazing slide guitar work; the production that is sparse but still driving and solidly laid down by a strong yet vulnerable female lead. Maybe the dichotomy (or paradox) of the lp is just what I'm attracted to: the strong woman with weakness; driving rock songs with yearning ballads; production filled with either lush strings (yeah, call me a sucker) a I-vi-ii-IV-V structure or an era with the social/political/gender-based relationships spelled out in ways that are both clearly-defined and contradictory.
It's not simple nostalgia, though, admittedly, the sound of the rock music is clearly dated. I can't think of a single person half my age (hell, my age) listening to this stuff, while I hear nothing but complaints about how modern pop-rock is vapid and lacking. My theory is that most of my favorite music from the Seventies is structured in the familiar blues-/gospel-/country-/ structures that are no longer the basis or format of modern music. Plus, I'm totally attracted to singers like Linda and Bonnie - the covers of "Simple Dreams" and "Sweet Forgiveness" tell it best - one woman in a dressing room, glancing at herself in the mirror, exposed and vulnerable. She's sexy to an audience and yet unsure and doubting of her strengths on her own. The other woman, just 'one of the guys' because she's plain-looking and yet strong when she sings and plays. Linda in lace and Bonnie on the Boardwalk. Contrived? Dated? No more than "42nd St." or "Weird Science" or "Bonnie and Clyde".
I can't imagine having lived through the time when one would have brought home the lp, being torn fresh from the plastic seal and being laid on the turntable, the needle brought down at 33 1/3 rpm. Not Zeppelin nor Captain & Tennille, these AOR pop records still drove so much of the Warners/Elektra/Asylum label, the same label pushing the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac and countless other multi-million selling records. I have a friend, who has many of these lp's (purchased around release date) and we've had many a late-night, sober discussion about how AMAZING this music must have been coming out when it did; just how much of this is yearning to have experienced the time of my entrance and how much of this is really about how good the music was? I dunno and don't care as here I am at eleven at night spinning discs that floor no one but myself. What do I bet that even the artists themselves could care less about the music I find so important?
I'm going to end this rave with this; I've played some of this music in bands and would love to play more of this with future bands: it's not ancient nor lame and yet there's something about it old enough and aged enough that is still damned great; timeless music does this - it hits people where they are, when they hear it and from where they are, they wonder just how this music is so good.

I Hear the Drizzle of the Rain

This beautiful mid-March night and I'm in love. For the last day and a half, we've been blessed with lovely rain, something that we're soon to be missing as the fourth month arrives. Day Five of Spring Break and I'm torn; my kids are bored and frustrated that they can't go outside and they're getting into lots of mischief. I'm ready, keys in hand, when my wife arrives home from work, to go for a drive or a drink or a spending spree and it's then I remember that they're so small, defenseless, so limited in their ability to expend their energy. I came home from a quick music binge from my locally over-priced books-n-more cavern to find Post-it notes plastered on the inside of our back entry with "I luv you" and "I Am Saree" all over them. I knelt down and embraced my children and kissed them and told them how much I love them and what they mean to me. And yet, tomorrow morning, I can tell you that before nine o'clock, my daughter will have socked my older son in the back of the head...
Part of me wishes I was hundreds of miles away at this very moment as the Truth & Salvage Co. is playing to a sell-out audience at the Troubadour in L.A. How iconic, how mythical, how amazing, for those guys to see hundreds of their friends and fans driving them to sing and play and elevate them for just two hours of their lives. I've spent a lot of time thinking about last week's shows and why they've resonated with me, maybe even moreso than their previous shows: it's what and how they share about themselves that we love and that we want in ourselves. I miss playing my guitar in a band, I love seeing how people respond to great songs and performances. And that's just ripping off other artists' music; I can't imagine playing a song that I wrote that has come to hold something of importance and meaning to people I've not met nor have known and still feel the energy of appreciation coming from their faces and body movements. I sing every word of every song for the T&S guys to show my support and faithfulness and there has been many a time where they've made eye contact with me and have made the connection; smiled (heck, Walker even pointed directly at meand sang a verse of a song) or nodded and I know that the human acknowledgement is worth more than the monitary payment for that evening (not really but it does mean something). Tonight's got to be something nearing insane and right now they're just about hitting "Pure Mountain Angel" and their encore and the night's just getting started.
I recently watched a documentary on the early 1970s and the rise of the singer-songwriter movement in Los Angeles and have been listening to much of that great music. For the last week I've been spinning (mainly) nothing but Jackson Browne, Linda Rondstadt, early Eagles, Bonnie Raitt, Tom Waits and the other bands of that era that have created that laid-back, solid and emotionally-deep music. As I've always known, I'm glad I actually didn't experience that time or I'd probably be dead. That more of those artists are still living is a testament to human physiology. Of course, it's now so mythologized and yet I know the myth is much bigger than history and yet...even making down to the Troubadour once every month or so to view Kris or Elton or Steve Martin or James Taylor or Carol King or another piano- or guitar player with a unique sound and a song about their experience would have been amazing. Nowadays, I struggle to relate to a singer wailing or whining about how misunderstood they've been because they scream it or plow through the song without letting it breathe. For some reason, that group of musicians so long ago were able to tap into a vein of emotional music that resonates still. And yet why do people from four decades connect with me? Am I chasing after ghosts? What other windmills might there be?
So of course, I'm listening to my most recent scores: Bonnie Raitt - Sweet Forgiveness (1977), Steely Dan - Pretzel Logic (1974) and Neil Young's Live Rust (1979). Man, I sure missed an amazing decade. What are we living through now? An era dead of irony and humor and choking on sincerity and ernestness; slow your songs down, learn some new chords and stop wanting to be the Band or Led Zeppelin or Madonna. Turn off the television, discover the vinyl and learn to play in front of people and not the video camera on your dresser in order to figure out who and what you are and what you really want to say. Really...

Sweet God almighty, my thoughts have been with Japan. And yet, I can't watch the news as I don't want my kids to see. A time to give, give give.

I need to go to bed. After a great St. Patrick's Day (my children went searching for leprechauns and thought they found one!) I need some rest. May the rain continue to fall (cue every good song about precipitation falling from the sky, right?). More gibberish later in the week.

The Wild Boys of the Road

Cafe du Nord, San Francisco, 3/11/11

Them Jeans
Jump the Ship
Envy
Island
Brothers, Sons and Daughters
101
Charm City
Heart Like a Wheel
Standing (Stuck) Center
Welcome to LA
Hail Hail
Call Back
Old Piano
Summertime
She Really Does it For Me
Rise Up
See Her
Pure Mountain Angel
E: Middle Island Creek
Giant


Truth & Salvage Co. roared back into the northern part of our wonderful state last week, stopping first in the Capitol (see below). While I enjoyed that show, fun as it was, Friday night in San Francisco, the boys came and burned the town down. The setlist, from first glance, was just another show for the sextet from L.A. A couple of new songs, some from the back catalogue; and yet, with a packed room at the Cafe du Nord on Market Street, Smitty's drum clicks leading the band into "Them Jeans" showed the band was in the mood to treat. "Jeans" into "Jump the Ship" showed strong tempos and what matters most, those beautiful Topanga Canyon harmonies. Scott Kinnebrew, the band's lead guitarist, has dramatically changed his lines to this song, his instrument painting a mood deeper than the jingle-jangle original. Each guy, from Tim to Walker to Scott to Smitty, took lead on a song, giving the band such a wide tonal palette to choose from. Each singer knows his strength, both tonally and topically and the show moved from gleeful swamp rock to the longing of home to the Cheshire Cat smile painting of Southern California. The first new song of the night was an ode to Johnny Cash as Scott flat-picked the guys through a lush melody of voices, leading straight into "Welcome to L.A." The turn of the night, especially for the growing number of fans this band has in the room (apparent as everyone was mouthing the words) was when the band sugued from the ringing chords of "L.A." straight into "Hail Hail", usually the band's opening song. The transition brought an urgency to the second number; the guys came roaring into the chorus and the surprised audience responded in kind. Frank, the newest member of the band, brings a new energy with his vibrant bass playing and personality on stage. By the time the band ripped into "Rise Up", people were dancing, raising their hands, smiling ear to ear and screaming as Scott and Tim Jones tore into their dual-guitar attack that (as I've said before), would make the Allman Brothers Band proud. "Pure Mountain Angel" was met with the audience visably surprising the band, as the near-capacity crowd took the chorus straight from the band and returned it louder than the microphones could deliver. While Adam Grace kept the gospel piano going, the singers stood and soaked it in as we sang about the walls tumblin' in, the thunder on the mountain and the folks in the holler. "Angel", always a gift, was followed with "Middle Island Creek" and "Giant", a one-two punch of cajun and jam vehicle. The hour and forty-five minute performance being the best I've seen in the thirteen times I've seen them in just fifteen months, I was not the only one floored by how T&S continues to give us a lesson in the history of rock and roll, from its roots in the Delta blues and western swing, through the churches and alleyways of Chicago and finally the left coast Laurel Canyon cowboy harmonies. The best band in rock and roll proved themselves yet again.

My friend Ana and I were graced yet again with some time to hang out with the guys, both pre- and post-, catching up on everything from what the year will entail to books to the last three months on the road for them. I'm going to have to miss them hitting my old hometown of Fresno this week and I also wish I had the chance to be in L.A. this weekend as they play a sold-out show at the Troubadour. Hoping that there was a way for that show to be captured for posterity...:) See you on the road, T&S.


Harlow's, Sacramento, CA 3/9/11
Call Back
Hail Hail
Island
Stuck Center
Welcome to LA
Heart Like a Wheel
Rise Up
101
Brothers, Sons and Daughters
Stars and Stripes
Atoms
See Her
Old Piano
Middle Island Creek
Envy
Giant
Pure Mountain Angel
E: Jump the Ship
She Really Does It For Me

Harlow's can only be described as a let-down for the band. Their last two swings through the Capitol City brought growing crowds and amazing press. This gig should have packed the house but did not; shame on Sactown. It was cold that night, it was also a school night. Hopefully the next go-round the band will be rewarded with larger numbers and better energy. The lack of buzz from the audience was noticeable on the band. I enjoyed most seeing how the guys are shaking up the setlist every night, with a different guy each night choosing the song order. I bolted right at the end of the show as I was giving midterms the next morning and the hour-plus drive ahead made for a lonely night. A great two-fer last week; I'm still buzzing from the ringing chant of "Giant" - because we love you, Truth & Salvage Co., we'll miss you - until the next time!!!