The Real Twilight of the Gods and the End of the Rock Era

 

   On June 11, 2025, we began the real slide into the end of the Rock Era.

   The passing of the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson is going to begin a long run of obituaries and tributes to the ladies and gentlemen who shaped The Rock Era. And I say The Rock Era, not the Rock & Roll Era because there truly is a demarcation line of the Rock & Roll Era and the Rock Era. Partially thanks to Brian Wilson but mostly because of the Beatles. And a little bit of Bob Dylan.

   1966 is [to me] the year that Rock broke away from Rock & Roll. One might consider 1965 being that late in the year we had the release of Dylan’s masterwork Highway 61 Revisited [8/30/65] and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul [12/3/65] and I will have to admit that it’s a fine, fine line and a good argument. Personally, I feel Dylan’s more major influence of the direction of rock & roll was introducing the Beatles to pot but Highway 61 is a true 5-star perfect album.

   But the line in the sand is truly drawn in 1966. The Beach Boys Pet Sounds [5/16/66] and the Beatles Revolver [8/5/66] are so far and away from what anyone else was doing that they pushed little ol’ Rock & Roll into something new. Something way beyond little three chord I love you and I want to hold your hand ditties. Now personally, I am not a big Pet Sounds guy. Yes I can appreciate the Beach Boys magical harmonies [in bits] and I get that Brian Wilson was pushing the boundaries of rock, rock & roll and music in general with that he was laying down. But it’s just not what I like.

   But I’ve gotten a little side tracked here.

   The fact of the matter is that the great musical artists who built the music industry into the mighty machine that it was late in the 1960s and through the 1970s and mid 1980s [when giant multinational corporations began buying up record companies and parts of mixed media empires ala Time-Warner] are starting to die. And it will be several years of opening up the paper – excuse me, logging onto the Wikipedia recent deaths page – and gasping about another favorite passing on from this plane.

   Despite our going jokes about what kind of world we are going to leave the prime examples of “what don’t kill ya just makes ya stronger,” [Keith Richards, Willie Nelson and Iggy Pop – who the hell had Iggy Pop making it to 50, let alone 78!!!] all of these people who have graced our ears with their output are going to return to the dust from which we have all sprung.

   Oh yes, there have been victims of accidents and “live fast, die young” lifestyle choices and a few like John Lennon caught out in the wild by the unbalanced and silenced in terribly tragic ways. Some of the great and nearly great have already passed. Tom Petty [2017] accidentally overdosing at 66. Charlie Watts [2021] rocked for over 60 years to the age of 80. Ric Ocasek [2019] at 75. Jon Lord [2012] of Deep Purple was 71. Robbie Robertson of the Band [2023] was 80.

   We mourned David Bowie at the “tender” age of 69. But the tributes and accolades and memories that poured out for Elvis himself in 1977, Lennon back in 1980 and Bowie in 2016 [2016! ALMOST ten years now!] will seem miniscule the days and weeks following Paul McCartney’s passing.

   Ah, now I think you understand.

 

   Let’s look at it this way. I’m now 58. Ringo Starr is 84. Paul McCartney is 83. The Glimmer Twins / Rolling Stones Jagger and Richards are 81. That’s the original British Invasion bands. Robbie Krieger and John Densmore of the Doors are 80 and 79. Grace Slick [Jefferson Airplane / Jefferson Starship] is 85. That’s the Summer Of Love. Sly Stone just passed at 82. John Fogerty of CCR is 80. Carlos Santana is 77. That’s Woodstock. Jimmy Page is 81. Robert Plant and Ozzy Osbourne are ‘only’ 76.  Aerosmith’s Toxic Twins Steven Tyler is 77 and Joe Perry is 74. Bruce Springsteen is 75. The Eagles Don Henley and Joe Walsh are 77.  Heart’s Ann Wilson is 75, sister Nancy is 71. Peter Frampton is 75. That covers Classic Rock. Punk icons John Lydon / Johnny Rotten and Mick Jones [the Clash] are 69. Elvis Costello is 70. How about MTV bands? The average age of Def Leppard is 63. Duran Duran: 64. Pat Benatar is 72. R.E.M.: 64. U2: 65. Billy Idol is 69.  Metalheads! The metal god Rob Halford is 73… but Judas Priest stared in 1969! Nikki Sixx is 66. James Hetfield is 62. Dave Mustaine is 63. Scott Ian of Anthrax is 61. Axl Rose is 65 and Slash is 59.

   You know what else? A LOT of these people / bands are still out there doing it. Maybe some are even doing it well. The Rolling Stones, Mick and Keith and Ronnie still worked a crowd and sounded as good as they did when we saw them in 1994 – when they were ‘old’ at 50. Which “Really This Is It the FINAL Final Tour, We Mean It This Time” is the Who on now?

   It’s what they do. Maybe some do it for money. I assume part of it is that once you feel the energy of an adoring crowd, that’s a high you continue to need. But mostly, it’s what they do. And some of them die out there, found in hotel rooms unresponsive. A few may go out right on the boards – it has happened. Col. Bruce Hampton, Johnny “Guitar” Watson.

   Of course, my point is that all of them are going to pass away – although some may outlive some of us. There will always be photographs. There [likely] will always be records or CDs or whatever the next physical media the remaining Big 3 can talk us into replacing our Zeppelin, Stones, Dead and Beatles catalogs with the latest and greatest new thing.

  

   For myself and the likeminded people blessed [or cursed] by a heightened love of vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion [music], little atoms of our soul will turn black with mourning as our “heroes” pass into the ether. Or perhaps they will become brighter luminations. Who knows?

   What I do know is that the passing of each one will place one more mote of the nostalgia for the better, carefree days of youth more firmly into the past. Of course I will always have the music – I have a substantial library from which to draw even as I move away from the physical media of records and CDs. And should those libraries be corrupted and lost, burned or buried I have the little MP3s deep inside my own grey matter. Those little memories that have me drumming Superchunk drum patterns on my desk late into evenings at work, Those hidden corners from which The Earworm throws the most unexpected things like Summer Nights [yes, from Grease], Fish Heads, Clint Holmes’ gawdawful Playground In My Mind or Tom T. Hall’s The Year That Clayton Delaney Died.

   In those same corners rest memories of summer days in state parks in West Virginia or my grandparents basement. Memories of the first time a song made a connection in my mildew smelling first bomb of a car. The first time I saw MTV, first concert and many more nights after that. All the times music has helped me work through teen angst, or a bruised heart. All the times a song represents a night with someone special or something special happened. All the times I have the words of a song to try and express what I am really feeling. All the times I have been cruising aimlessly to or from work and a good song helped me put the work day behind me.

   That’s what the music means to me. And as the names of the people who made the music that I have connected to slowly disappear to memory and history, I will be saddened a little by each one from the mightiest singer to the lowliest backup singer. They all contributed something which is more than I can ever say for myself.

 

   You know I make these car CDs for two reasons. One, most radio sticks to narrow playlists of a couple hundred songs and the time frame they chose from has shifted from “My Era” [1967 – 1996] to the late 90s and early aughts. The music I didn’t get then and I still don’t get today. The second reason is that I’m trying to recreate the radio of the 70s and 80s as I half remember, half wish that it was. Did I ever hear Crack the Sky, the Joe Perry Project, Johnny Winter, Terry Reid, Michael Nesmith, Utopia or Delaney and Bonnie on the radio? I really don’t think so. But on my car CDs where I am the D.J. [and “I am what I play…”], they do. Alongside the lesser know cuts of Jefferson Airplane, Deep Purple [all 4 eras], the Steve Miller Band, Queen, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Cheap Trick, et al.

   I'm hanging onto a past that may not have really existed. I am nostalgic for a past that never really was but I shape it the way I wished it was. I think a lot of us look back to the past through some sort of rose-colored lenses. But a wise woman once told me that "Rose colored glasses do not come in bifocals because no one wants to read the fine print in dreams."

   And even though I don’t drive as long or far as I used to, it’s nice to still have my music with me. It’s comfort food for my soul.

   “A full cup of coffee, a full tank of gas, an open road and a real good idea is all you’ll ever need. So tip you bartenders, tip your friends, tip your mom and remember, life if too cheap to drink short wine.”  - Kevin Kinney

 

I started this a few weeks back and it just kind of ground to a halt, but with todays news of Sly’s passing, I wrapped it up. As a side note, tonight the Florida Panthers are killing the Edmonton Oilers 5 – 1 in t game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals, so I would be again searching for something interesting to watch…

Sly Lives!

   The Florida / Carolina hockey game is over before it’s even begun. After the Panthers scored their third just shy of 16 minutes in, I just said “well that’s done. Now what am I gonna do?” So I go to the Hulu home page looking for something. No. No. No. Ugh, no. No. No. Mmmmmmnnnnnn, no I don’t think so. Oh!

   I had been seeing the box cover or whatever you call that… icon for Sly Lives! It’s Questlove’s movie. I mistakenly thought he did the We Want the Funk PBS Independent Lens documentary. [It was Stanley Nelson and Nicole London.] It’s Thursday, it’s re-runs season, let’s take a look.

   The story is the story – talented young man rises up seemingly out of nowhere, is on top of the world for a split second then it all comes crashing down. Is it an inspiring tale? In some ways, yes. You have to be who you are and do what you want to do and that’s how you make it. Is it a cautionary tale? Yes. When you get to the top, is it going to be what you think it is? If it’s not, how do you deal with that? Then there’s the subtext: as a black man is there more pressure on you when you succeed and do “They” cheer louder or laugh harder when you fall?”

   It’s a good show. It was worth the two hours to take it in.

   But what hit me – I was listening, really hearing the music again for the first time in a while.

   It took me back. I’m 10, maybe 11. Somehow I came across Sly & the Family Stone’s Greatest Hits [1970] in mom and dad’s records. And it just knocks my socks off. Pound for pound 12 absolutely stunning Sly & the Family Stone tracks. All time party album, right? There’s a lotta funk, a buncha movers and groovers and a couple slow burners for getting close to your honey. Even if you don’t dance [and I do not], how can you not be knocked out by the tightness and the groove when I Want to Take You Higher comes boiling out of your speakers. Greg Errico’s drums are right on, [at the time I wanted to be a drummer and I was just knocked sideways by Errico’s drumming, especially when Stand! goes from the main part into the breakdown 2:15 in. Rufus Thomas copied that breakdown for 1971’s The Breakdown.]. Larry Graham’s fuzz bass rolls along like the muddy Mississippi. Someone comes in: “Beat is getting stronger…” [it’s hard to tell the difference between Sly and his brother, guitarist Freddie]. Then those horns start throwing out those short little lines as the chorus kicks in. Cynthia Robinson and Jerry Martini are absolutely key to the Family Stone sound. Is it any accident that Joe Cocker’s Mad Doggs and Englishmen had that horn section of Jim Price on trumpet and Bobby Keys on sax? It is no accident that the Stones brought those two in to punch up Exile On Main Street. If you’re gonna borrow ideas, borrow from the best!

   It is not exaggeration to say that the bands medley of Dance To the Music, I Want To Take You Higher and Music Lover is THE highlight of the Woodstock movie. Sly in purple wrap around shades and that white jump suit with the purple vest and white fringe flying everywhere when he moves is just a visual that has to be seen and of course the music can get a dead man moving. As a band, this is as high as it’s going to get and it’s captured for eternity.

   We go from the boiling funk of Higher down to the low key single Everybody Is A Star. Everybody is the proof of the pudding. Each line is sung by a different vocalist. [I do not believe drummer Errico or sax player Martini were vocalists.] It’s just a low key reminder that we are all individuals and we all have our talents and skills that make us unique and to celebrate that. Next is Stand!, another reminder that there are things we all have to do if we’re going to make it – as a person or as a society. [“Stand /There's a cross for you to bear / Things to go through if you're going anywhere / Stand / For the things you know are right / It s the truth that the truth makes them so uptight”] Fun is just that… a fun little funky number. No muss, no fuss, just “put a smile on your face, leave that bummer behind.” Life has a purely circus / carnival feel that belie the serious lyrics. You Can Make It If You Try channels James Brown so well I’m sure James said “When did I write that one? Am I getting royalties on that?”

   Side 2 opens with PROBABLY Sly’s best known song Dance To the Music. The irony is that it was crafted more at the instance of record company president Clive Davis for something more commercial than their first album A Whole New Thing had been. It really is a prefect representation of their mixing rock, psychedelic and funk and it certainly caught the ear of the public. Even now, almost 60 years later, as soon as it comes on it just demands your ear. It’s followed by Everyday People. Everyday People owes as much to the Stax sound as Dance owes to Motown. Dig Larry Graham’s pulsing but amazingly simple bass line pushing the whole thing. Again, simple message – we are all in this together so let’s get past all the hang ups. [“I am no better and neither are you / We are the same, whatever we do”] Next is the amazing single Hot Fun In the Summertime. Again, amazing interplay between Greg Errico’s drums and Graham’s amazing walking bass lines under some amazing harmonies by the band. M’Lady … M’Lady is really hard to explain. Sing A Simple Song the opposite of Life - a very complex riff with some very simple lyrics. The album closes with Thank You [Faletinme Be Mice Elf Agin]. This may be the finest example of Larry Graham’s slapping bass [where the bass pops instead of holding notes]. I must have just found this record because I used on of the verses of this song for something they were discussing in music class, which is how I remember it was 5^th grade - my only full year at Foster Elementary.

   Whoever sequenced this record took care to make it flow. It was not pieced together in chronological order not just slapped together, someone really thought about this, which is pretty unusual for a Greatest Hits package.

 

   CAUTION: The Essential Sly & the Family Stone uses a different mixes for Thank You [Faletinme Be Mice Elf Agin] and Hot Fun In the Summertime. The Thank You mix adds horns in all the “wrong” places and there’s extraneous vocals and the bridge is not ‘”phased”… obviously, I do not dig it. I actually found the original Greatest Hits mix on Amazon and that’s the mix I use for my CDs. If one is only going to own one Sly and the Family Stone album, I obviously suggest this one with the full knowledge that because it was released in 1970 it misses 2 GREAT songs, Family Affair and If You Want Me To Stay. They can be found on the 1981’s Anthology set [2 PL / 1 CD] but I don’t think that set flows as well as Greatest Hits does.

 

   News came down today [6/9/25] that Sly has passed. It’s just a coincidence that I  happened to see the documentary so shortly before his death but I am glad I had a couple of days just digging those hits that are so well loved. I hope in those years he was out of the public spotlight from  1983 to 2011 that Sly found the peace of mind to reconcile that for one moment he and his band were one of the hottest and best bands in the world and found a way to deal with The Legacy of being both Sylvester Stewart and Sly Stone.

   I was not aware that Sly put out his memoirs back in 2023 but I will be keeping an eye open for that in the library, as well as former DJ and J. Geils Band frontman Peter Wolf’s.

    Anyway, thanks for the music Sly. Rest In Peace.

 

One Last Sunset

 

One last sunset

One day it happens to us all

There really is no endless highway

There is no beginning without and end

A lifetime is always forever

Yet it’s also just the blink of an eye

Depending on one’s perspective

 

   Everything ends.

   Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, songs, albums, books and movies, Ina twist or irony, The Never Ending Story ended, those lying bastards! Kansas opined that “nothing lasts forever but the Earth and sky” but that’s wrong. Sometime in the next 2.5 billion years our star Sol will run out of fuel and grow into a red giant and destroy the Earth. In layman’s terms, that’s about the time they will finish working on the freeways around here.

   There a likely a google [one followed by 100 zeros] of words written about endings. Most of the words are probably about relationships ending or lives that have ended. But I have a few to add.

   As noted earlier this year, Mom is moving out of the house she has occupied for the last 44 years. Well the deadline is here. Barring something going terribly wrong, as of Monday May 19^th, 2025, it will belong to another family.

   On the one hand it is ‘just a building.’ Someplace you keep your stuff while you’re out making money to go and buy more stuff. But of course it’s also more than that. For 16 years it was my home. The front bedroom was “my room” even if it remains “Chaz’s room’ or ‘your brother’s old room’ to the immediate family. The place where I slept, listened to music, read, watched TV, played guitar and did NOT do my homework. There are of course many other memories. The time my parents went to Pennsylvania for a weekend and I had a few friends over and scratched the table playing quarters. The volleyball party where the lines were defined by weed eating them into the grass. Certain young ladies writing on my car windows in lipstick – but they did leave me a donut. The large contingent of people crowded in when they came to town for my sister’s wedding. Grandma and Grandpap Sheet’s last trip to Texas to meet their newest great grandchild, Shelby. “Vegamatic!” 31 games [“No mercy at the card table”]. Of course so many holidays, a couple of graduation parties, 40^th birthdays… they’re just buildings but they’re homes because of what happens inside.

   It’s mostly empty now. Surprisingly, it’s had very little work done. The master shower was redone recently more out of necessity than desire. Wallpaper, carpet, tile, paint. But no other major renovation. It hasn’t truly been empty since we moved in in January of 1981. Right now, knowing it is the last time or almost the last time, it just seems to be empty shell. All of the things that made it a home are now somewhere else. The only thing remaining is the ghosts / memories that I have brought with me.

   I am on the porch with a chair and a tall boy watching the sun sink into the trees that marked the edge of “The Berry’s property.” They haven’t been there for a couple of decades but it’s still The Berry’s just like it’s Chaz’s room.” A rain cooled breeze swirls and eases some of the humidity. The sun and the clouds are cooperating. It’s an incredible ongoing mix of reds, golds and purples as if God himself has ordered up one last spectacular show just for me.

   And really it is. Think about that. Each moment of our lives passes and it is gone.

    Some few are captured in photographs or whatever this digital business is called or burned into memories [based on our own perspective, of course] but like most of the 2.5 billion heartbeats in an average life, the moments pass without being noticed or cataloged. Of course right now I have a head full of memories fighting to surface right now.

   My dad, he doesn’t give a fuck for nostalgia or the past. It’s just the way he is. But Mom is sort of nostalgic and my sister and I get that from her to varying degrees. I felt I had to have some private time to look around and have one more sunset. One last run up Russell Lane although at a much more normal speed than I used to race down it when I was a teens. The poor neighbors had that white dust covering their yards every time I went up that road. Surprisingly that straight six Duster [irony] did a fair rip up that quarter mile. The V-8 Caprice… it might not have been old school Detroit muscle but it could move when you stomped it.

   I’m watching the sun fade one more time. I hear a train in town. It’s comforting and familiar and sad because “they” have silenced the train horns as they go through Fort Worth now unless some dipshit is trying to beat the train. The train will roll on to God knows where. I think that the engineer may never look out his window in wonder at the sunset and contemplate that no two sunsets are the same. Not even if one was at the same exact spot at exactly the same time every day.

   As I take the photos [which just do not get as dark as it is outside, I don’t know if it’s a filter or what] and feel the breeze I think about the trees that were here but are now gone. I laugh at the hedgerow Mom put in to block out the neighbors that moved in after the Hendricksons moved to wherever. I remember summer days riding the tractor around cutting the grass. How many times has the grass been mowed?!? I remember the old tin shack, red painted one stall lean to put up by my dad and me and Uncle Bill and I look at the ‘new’ barn… what a difference.

  Finally, it’s time to go. One last pee, sho\ut off the lights and close the garage door. One last sanely slow trip down Russell to the county road and then… well I had to run some interstate miles to clear my head after this little nostalgia trip

 

   In ten years, we [the family] will refer to this house as ‘the place over on Russell.’ In twenty years, it will just be “the place your grandmother lived when she was your age.”  In fifty, MAYBE a photo of the place one of Shelby’s children’s great-great grandmother lived. In a hundred years, the Galupi name will just be a name on an old paper deed or a digital file in the tax records.

   Will the house still be standing? The barn? What will it look like? Will the current “occupant” have any idea of how for 40+ years a family lived here, loved here through all of the good and bad, happy and sad and the memories that come with a lifetime? Will one of them look out over the trees and wonder at how every sunset is slightly different?

 

Random Record Revisit

Sheer Heart Attack [1974] – Queen

 

   Producer Roy Thomas Baker passed almost two weeks ago on April 12th [although it was not announced until ten days alter on the 22rd. Of course, I know who RTB is [was] – famously producing four of the first seven Queen albums and the first three Cars albums as well as Foreigner’s Head Games and Journey’s Infinity and Evolution. He famously assisted Queen achieve the multiple layers of vocals on Bohemian Rhapsody [and its bookend, Brian May’s The Prophet Song]. In a quick Facebook thank you, I eschewed the obvious RTB produced song and posted In the Lap Of the Gods… Revisited. That’s the way my mind works. So as a tribute to Roy Thomas Baker, I went back and listened to Sheer Heart Attack a couple of times.

   Sheer Heart Attack is currently my favorite Queen album because I burned myself out on A Night At the Opera a long time ago. Jazz and The Game stand tall and Queen II is pretty good but Sheer Heart Attack I can still put on and play fully and a couple of times in a sitting. It very easily slides from style to style with tongue planted firmly in cheek. In taking the Queen catalog as a whole, it seems that they had to make Sheer Heart Attack as a prelude to A Night At the Opera.

   The album kicks off with Brian May’s powerhouse Brighton Rock. The middle section beginning at 2:40 allows May to fire off some flaming lead work before moving into the section with May playing against himself using an Echoplex [3:20 – 4:20] before the band jumps back in for the final verse and he ride out. It’s followed b Queen’s big hit [# 2 U.K., # 12 U.S.], Killer Queen. What can I say about Killer Queen? If someone asked about Queen, this is the song I would hand them and say “Here’s a starting point. This is a great example of all that they do.” It’s followed by the A-side medley of Roger Taylor’s paean of rock and youth Tenement Funster into Freddie Mercury’s sinister con man threatening to end one with a Flick Of the Wrist if one fails to cough up what is owed…this somehow melts into the pretty melody of Lily Of the Valley. The side ends with May’s other great rocker of the album, Now I’m Here.  Is this an homage to one of those ladies of the road that bands sometimes encounter? I’ll leave that to the imagination of those who deem to look up the lyrics. Of course “go, go, go little queenie” quotes the lyric master Charles Edward Anderson Berry.

   Side two plays almost as one long medley [there are a couple of seconds between the end of Stone Cold Crazy and the beginning of Dear Friends, one supposes to allow the listener to catch their breath after the blitz of SCC]. It leads of with In the Lap Of the Gods with a heavily treated and slowed vocal by Freddie with Roger’s impossibly high wails flying in and out of the background. It is followed by the blistering proto metal of Stone Cold Crazy. At only 2:16, it’s played at a pace as if the band had five minutes left of the day’s session before being charged overtime! As noted, its intensity demands a moment to catch your breath before flowing into Brian May’s lullaby of Dear Friends executed by Freddie and a piano with a few soft background vocals. This rides into John Deacon’s first song to appear on an album, Misfire. One can hear elements of what will come in his next composition, You’re My Best Friend. That is followed by the purely camp, vaudeville style Bring Back That Leroy Brown featuring a short appearance of Brian May’s fathers ukelele banjo. That is followed by the acoustic lead plod of May’s She Makes Me [Stormtrooper In Stilettos]. It is May’s lone vocal track on the albums and has  Taylor’s drums drowning in reverb and guitars droning. In the last minute various sirens and bomb bursts fade in and out of a heavy panting. In a strange way it’s hypnotically beautiful. A second later Freddie is back high in his range kicking off In the Lap Of the Gods… Revisited with a soft “its so eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeasy…”   Really it has no connection to In the Lap Of the Gods unless one takes the literal meaning that one is leaving one’s fate in the hands of the gods – whether they smile and grant favor and success or disprove and cause failure. One can read many things into the lyrics of course, that’s what’s fun about reading lyrics. Anyway, the song simmers through a verse, Roger and John restrained, tied to Freddie’s piano in the verses until Freddie’s vocals in the verses until Brian brings a little thunder in the chorus, another slowly bubbling tight verse, then Brian unleashes the hammer of the gods…. It rides out over four more repeats of the chorus, each one building with more layers of background vocals before an “explosion” ends the album.

   The sheer diversity of the album marks the shift from Queen as a sort of prog-rock band into …well, Queen! Meaning they can shift styles at the drop of a hat, heavy and light, serious but fun, serious but not that serious. Layered vocals will remain a part of the sound even after Roy Thomas Baker moved on. Sheer Heat Attack stands as a band gaining the confidence to do  what they want to do, not following trends nor certainly the wishes of the record company.

   Little did I realize when Lederman introduced me to Queen via A Night At the Opera and Jazz [two of the RTB produced albums] I would be introduced to such a range of music. Of course I like some more than others and I’ve gone through my phases with them but they remain a mainstay in my collection.

 

Random Record Revisited:

Back To the Bars [1978] – Todd Rundgren

   Todd’s last album of the decade is this double LP live set. Recorded at more intimate venues [New York’s Bottom Line, Los Angeles’ Roxy Theater and Cleveland’s Agora – yes, the original “Hello Cleveland!”], this is a pretty good retrospective.

   That said, this is really as much a Utopia as it is a Todd Rundgren record as the band plays on sides 1 and 4, even though ‘technically’ only one song [Love In Action] on the album is a Utopia song.  In my mind, if Todd had focused on Utopia, they could have challenged the Cars for the New Wave Crown. However, Todd being Todd just ping-ponged from Oops! Wrong Planet and Adventures In Utopia to the Beatle-esque Deface the Music to the political Swing To the Right before landing back in pop world with the brilliant power pop of Utopia [an album I was introduced to by Tracey Berry] and POV. Throw in a couple of Todd solo albums and the forgettable Utopia album Oblivion and it’s pretty clear that even the uber prolific Todd was become a little stretched.

   Oops! Wrong Band. I was talking about Back To the Bars.

   The record glides along swimmingly through the first six songs. The great mid tempo pop of Real Man and Love Of the Common Man slow down into The Verb ‘To Love’ then rise into the guitar heavy power pop of Love In Action. The action slows again as we go into the solo Todd on piano reading of A Dream Goes On Forever. Good Lord this song with this arrangement could have been a show stopper for Daryl Hall. Two Philly soul brothers! If you have not seen Todd and Daryl togethers, definitely check out their episodes of Live from Daryl’s House! [Here is The Last Ride originally featured on Todd’s Todd album.] Then it’s back to Todd’s offbeat pop for Sometimes I Don’t Know What I Feel. The record hiccups with the faux country The Range War but picks up with the heavy power of Black And White and then what seems is going to be a subdued take of The Last Ride which picks with a couple of great sax solo from Bobby Sedita and then into some fiery guitar from Todd over the last 2 minutes. Oddly it goes into Todd on acoustic guitar on Cliché. It works but it’s an odd transition. The side / CD 1 ends the Todd ballad Don’t You Ever Learn with it’s almost Zappa-esque dissonant riff.

   Side 3 opens with Todd on the piano for an odd cover of Never Never Land from Peter Pan. Todd covered the song on his psychedelic A Wizard, A True Star album and three of the four songs on this side are from that album. The outlier is track 2, a hard, hot take of Black Maria from Something / Anything? It’s followed by the waltz time of Zen Archer. The majority of the side is the soul medley from Wizard: the Impressions I’m So Proud > the Miracles Ooh Baby Baby > the Intruders La La Means I Love You > Todd’s own Hello It’s Me. Utopia is back as side 4 kicks off with one of my favorites from Something, the oft anthologized It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference. I love how in the booklet Todd says “Most people think it means ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference to me if you love me or not.’ I always thought it meant ‘If you really did, then why did you act like such a schmuck?’” It’s hard to believe that the single of Difference didn’t gain any traction for this album. The next 2 tracks come from Todd’s Zen / prog-rock album Initiation, Eastern Intrigue and the title track. Given the breadth of Todd’s work, a little prog doesn’t seem too out of place. Eastern Initiation is unlikely to be found in my list of favorite Todd tracks. Initiation though is a pretty high energy cut and it might now find it’s way onto one of those road CDs of mine. The high energy continues with a run through Couldn’t I Just Tell You. The album ends with an all star take of Hello It’s Me featuring Hall & Oates and Stevie Nicks on vocals and the mighty mite Rick Derringer on guitar.

   If this was meant to be a definitive career spanning retrospective perhaps Back To the Bars omits some of Todd’s bigger numbers, notably We Gotta Get You A Woman and the then current Can We Still Be Friends, with I Saw the Light appearing at the end of a medley. But live albums tend to be a snapshot of the artist at the moment. Would I personally have traded off a couple of the tracks for Can We Still Be Friends and maybe Just One Victory or Heavy Metal Kids? Probably but that’s just my preference and I don’t know the process they used to piece this together and what was available. Still if someone asked for a good starting point for an introduction to Todd Rundgren, I would certainly offer up Back To the Bars.

 

Fun fact: two of Todd’s LPs from the 70s, 1973s A Wizard, A True Star [55:56] and 1975s Initiation [68:11] pushed the limits of how much information could be put onto a double sided LP. Had they been double albums as most albums of those lengths would have been, Todd would have put out 4 double albums in a row.

 Moving Day 

   We are in the middle of moving my mother.

   The house she / we have lived in for 43 years will soon be someone else’s home.

   “My Room” will be someone else’s room. There will be new masters in the master bedroom. Someone else will be making dinners in the kitchen and eating them in the dining “room.” Someone else will be living in the living room.

   Rooms and closets have been emptied in the years and filled back up but this is different.

   This was going to happen at “some day..” I’m not sure I ever thought it would be while Mom was still with us but opportunity knocked and viola! The big furniture is moved. The internet and TV service is set up. Clothes and dishes close to put away. But there’s a lot of stuff in the back of cupboards, drawers, closets and the garage.

   I’m not sure it’s really sunk in.  We’re talking about the house of my formative years – a smidge of middle school and all of my high school years. So many memories. A lot of family and extended family, especially Leones, Hornes and Zottolas [and one “Partymobile”] fun. Some very personal stuff.

   What it has stirred up is a deeper sense of loss – the thought that someday someone else is going to live in my grandparents’ house. Literally, the house my grandfather built.

   It’s been a rock, a constant touch place of my whole life -almost or all [depending when I post this] 58 years. My mother’s 78 years. I can’t imagine someone else’s family making dinner in that kitchen. I can’t imagine a different kitchen table in there or a different family gathered around it. And the changes that would need to be made… at least one of the bathrooms gets redone which is might necessitate blowing out a wall. The carpet gets pulled. Maybe the linoleum in the kitchen replaced.

   This seems a tragedy to me [except that carpet] because it HAS been a rock. Nothing seems to have been changed there for decades. Okay, the TVs and the telephones have been updated and the pictures rearranged but other than that it seems the same for as long as I can remember and as far back as the family photos go. But it’s such a haven that my heaven would be this place. The smell of dew on the clover in the morning, my grandfather whistling passing through the basement, the aroma of a roast in grandma’s magical oven, a cool evening with lightning bugs lighting up the field.

   Of course, I would like to see it stay in the family forever but I feel that it will not be. We, the ‘grandchildren’ are pushing through our 50s and a few into their 60s. All have their own lives and homes and their own parents long time homes where other memories are entwined and I just don’t think any of us would take it over. Their children i.e. the great grandchildren might not have anymore than a fleeting connection to the place. I don’t know, though - having always been so far away I really don’t have a clue about a lot of my extended family.  Not my own cousins, certainly not their kids. There has always been a sadness in my heart about that. Family but almost strangers.

   But we are a fun bunch when we get together! There is a bond, a real genuine love that flows amongst us not unlike The Force. It surrounds us and penetrates us and binds us together in a way I don’t see in other families.

   People say that there’s a difference between a house and a home. Bricks and wood and windows are the house, it’s the people that make it a home. My grandparent’s house has always been home. I hope it remains a home to all of us as long as I am on his plane. Having said that, I hope when we are gone, someone else makes it a home for as many decades as out family has and memories just as beloved as mine become a part of their family. And I hope that another family does the same with Mom’s house.

   I don’t want to be a political blogger. I don't want to be a social commentator and certainly NOT any kind of influencer.

    I don’t. I also don’t want to be a contributor of the divisiveness on social media.

    I want to echo the philosophy of George Carlin and not give a fuck about the outcome. I want to sit idly by and just observe without caring about what’s going to happen and to look at it and say “You got what you deserved and you deserved what you get.” I’m just not there yet.

   I still care [as of today, we’ll see in a few more weeks] and I want to speak my peace. But I want to speak my peace without people adding their two cents about why I am wrong and without people arguing about why I am right and without the discourse that happens on social media platforms.

   So I will do it here. I KNOW nobody’s reading me here. I just want to unload my head.

 

   So despite what the public may be inferring from the words out of the President’s mouth and mouthpieces, tariffs are not paid by the exporter / exporting country. Tariffs are paid by the importer upon receipt.

   Tariffs are a tax. That money goes into the general fund.

   The idea of the tariff on the imported good is to make it more expensive, so expensive that the importer seeks out a local / domestic supplier of the same good.

   Do I personally understand why it is cheaper to import rolled steel from China than to get American steel? I do not. Is it inefficiency in the American maker’s outdated plants? Exorbitant labor costs due to a shortage of labor? Shipping costs? Some combination of all of these things and more?

   It’s apparent in the last few weeks that the President is looking at the Untied States as a business that’s losing money. How do you fix that? Well, you lower your outgoing [labor costs, office supplies, foreign aid, domestic programs] and try to add income [but without raising income taxes which hurt the economy you’re trying to save and piss off your billionaire donor friends]. And without touching third rail hot button issues like Social Security. The word he uses continuously is “deal.” He wants to make a better deal for the American people. How adding a quarter to the price of Mexican avocados or $ 10.00 to the price of Canadian whiskey is a better deal for the American people is a head scratcher. Oh, I’m sure it just temporary… yet prices never seem to quite go down after the public mumbles under their breath and shows that they are willing to cough up more dough for a product.

   [Or the producer pulls the old sleight of hand putting out less product in a similar sized can or box. Did you know that peanut butter companies use the same ‘jar’ but they increased the size of the punt on the bottom of it to decrease volume? Got to read those labels!]

   Unfortunately, the President can not have the United States go into Chapter Eleven bankruptcy reorganization., a process he is very familiar with having used it six times himself.

   Cutting spending is a good idea. Adding income into the treasury is a good idea. The way The President is doing it is not a good idea. Of course, The President doesn’t trust anyone anymore, least of all the Republicans in Congress. He doesn’t want anyone telling him “that’s not the way it’s done in Washington” anymore. After reading Bob Wooward’s Fear: Trump In the White House, I knew the second he was declared the winner that this was going to be  a much different term than Trump 45. This time, he was [is] going to have people who would swear allegiance to Donald J. Trump uber alles [above all]. Not the Constitution [as seen on day one when he signed the unconstitutional suspension of article 1 of the 14^th amendment] and certainly not the Republican Party.

   So he is not going to use Congress to do anything if he doesn’t have to. He is arbitrarily making the Executive Branch and by fiat, himself the most powerful force in the country.

   I certainly hope that the Judiciary finds the balls to stand up for what is right – that is separation of powers and the rule of law and the Constitution of the United States that Mr. Trump swore to preserve protect and defend on January 20^th. The oath does not include the phasing “unless I don’t want to” or “unless it interferes with my personal ambitions.” Although Mr. Trump also did not place his hand on The Holy Bible when he took the oath this time, so maybe that is his version of “I crossed my fingers.”

   So far, this has gone about like I expected. I knew it was going to be a shitstorm and so far it has. I know I am just going to have to hunker down and survive four more years of blowhard, far right bible thumping asshats like I have been suffering here in Texas since George W. left the state to become the President.

   I know the days of co-operation and moderation have probably gone the way of Hailey’s Comet – not to be seen again in my lifetime. I hope to see a slight swing of the pendulum back towards Common Sense again but it’s likely just wishful thinking.

   I guess I am just at the age where I look around and echo the voices of generation before me and bemoan “These are the end times.”