“Sister Susie, brother John

Martin Luther, Phil and Don

Brother Michael, Auntie Gin

Open the door and let ’em in, yeah”

“Let ‘Em In”

Wings

They were the heroes of our heroes.

The first Everly Brothers song I remember hearing was “All I Have to Do Is Dream” from Jan & Dean’s 1965 live album “Command Performance.”

For a while there, the SoCal sound, of surfing, beaches and cars, coexisted with the British Invasion. Unlike Fabian and Perry Como, the L.A. acts weren’t immediately wiped from the map. As a matter of fact, “I Get Around” was a huge hit in the summer of ’64, and of course “California Girls” was monstrous in the summer of ’65, but by that point Jan & Dean and most of the striped-shirt sneaker crowd were done.

But I loved the SoCal sound before the Beatles broke. I can still remember hearing “Little Old Lady (From Pasadena)” at the beach when it was a hit and the teenagers were grooving to it in what was called “the pit” in front of the pavilion, and I was still on the outside looking in, still a youngster, far from cool, but infected by the sound.

So I bought “Command Performance” because it had the hits. I was never a singles guy, they were never a good economic proposition, the B-side always stunk and you paid 69¢ for the two songs when you could get ten or twelve for $1.99, and eventually $2.52, before everything became stereo and they raised the price a dollar, before singles went to 99¢. And of course we had the Beatles albums immediately, and at first many thought they were a fad, like hula-hoops, our parents indulged us, but that did not turn out to be the case. But with Jan & Dean it was a value proposition, the live album had all the hits, from “Surf City” to “Dead Man’s Curve” to “The Little Old Lady (From Pasadena)” to “Sidewalk Surfin’.” But it also had covers like “I Get Around,” and “Doo Wah Diddy Diddy” and “Louie Louie” and…”All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

“I can make you mine

Taste your lips of wine

Anytime night or day

Only trouble is, gee whiz

I’m dreamin’ my life away”

I know those words by heart, because I played “Command Performance” so much that it turned gray, which used to happen with overplay with the heavy tonearms of the all-in-one record players of the day. But I did not know it was an Everly Brothers hit, the credits just listed the writer, Boudelaux Bryant, and when the track was originally a hit in 1958, I was five.

And now I was eleven.

But with the explosion of the Beatles came tons more information, you started to hear the stories of the acts, about their influences.

And then “Bye Bye Love” was on Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” in an infectious live rendition, and Paul Simon testified to his love of the Everly Brothers.

Now by time we hit the seventies, there was a rock press, and there started to be an excavation of all those who’d had hits in the fifties, before the Beatles, the influences. You’d read about Little Richard, and Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins, and the Everly Brothers. The new acts were so big that they lifted all boats, and suddenly we’d see these acts on TV, but they didn’t have hits, they were out of time, just like the haircuts the Everly Brothers wore in the fifties.

When the Beatles broke the “dry look” became prevalent, it rode out the sixties. The Beatles killed product, certainly for men, although we still saw ads for Dippity-do. The Everly Brothers were greasers. We didn’t expect them to show up on motorcycles, to hang with the Hell’s Angels, but the fifties were in black and white and the sixties were in color, by the end of the decade every household had a color TV, it was like the flat screen rage of ten years ago. The Everlys were dated. Although they seemed to be bigger in England, where they embraced American roots, unlike in the home country, where we threw them overboard when the hits dried up.

And then came Paul McCartney’s song “Let ‘Em In.”

“Band on the Run” was a complete surprise. McCartney seemed to have lost his touch. “Wild Life” was for the hardcore only. And “Red Rose Speedway” had the execrable “My Love.” But “Band on the Run” had a rock edge we thought Paul had lost, the album was gigantic and although “Venus and Mars” was not quite as good, it had an element of whimsy its predecessor lacked, but in 1976 it was followed up by Wings’ “At the Speed of Sound,” which coincided with the massive U.S. tour, but after this album Paul never had the credibility he possessed earlier, he never reached the same heights, because of two tracks, “Silly Love Songs” and “Cook of the House.” The previous was lightweight fare made for AM radio in an era when all the action was happening on FM where the music was heavier, and the latter was seen as an abomination, it was bad enough Linda had to play in the group, but did she really have to sing this inane song?

But I bought “At the Speed of Sound” anyway. Because it was Paul McCartney. And because I had a cross-country drive, from Salt Lake to Connecticut, and I needed tunes, so believe me, the album is embedded in my brain.

And the truth is “At the Speed of Sound” is not in the league of what came before, but there are some more than memorable tunes, like “Warm and Beautiful” and “Beware My Love” and Denny Laine’s “Time to Hide.” But the opener was “Let ‘Em In.” Referencing Phil and Don.

It was clear who Paul was singing about, they came right out of the speakers, the legends, the progenitors. Elvis was something unto himself, Little Richard and Jerry Lee and Carl Perkins were an earthier rock sound, the kind the Beatles played in Hamburg, but there was a direct connection between the Everly Brothers and so much of what came out of the radio from the mid-sixties to the seventies. There was melody, it was about songs more than records. The Mamas & the Papas were not a huge step away. But really all the ballads of the British bands, they all seemed to be influenced by the Everlys. And then came the singer-songwriters at the turn of the decade and it seemed the Everlys had more influence than any other pre-Beatles act, but they did not capitalize on it. You see they were fighting.

That became the story of the Everly Brothers, now that we were paying attention, they couldn’t get along. And if you were born in the forties and experienced their hits firsthand, this was probably gut-wrenching, as the Beatles breakup was for those of us born in the fifties. But to the younger generation, the Everlys were more cartoons than legends.

But then they had a victory lap. They opened for Simon & Garfunkel on their 2003 reunion tour. It was a last hurrah for both Simon & Garfunkel and the Everlys and I’ve thought about it a lot as the years have gone by, that Staples show was one of my three best of the twenty first century, along with Adele at the Greek and U2 at the Forum with the screens they walked between. You can still see Adele and U2. But the other acts? Well, Garfunkel lost his voice and by time it came back Simon no longer wanted to go on the road. As for the Everlys? They’re dead.

But I remember remarking about the audience at Staples to Jay. They were OLD! White hair. On the verge of retirement. I’d never seen such an old crowd at a rock show before. Now we’re the old crowd. We have white hair. We are on the verge of retirement.

But when the Everlys stood on stage and played the songs we now knew, and knew they’d done, it was like the good old days all over again, the two of them with acoustic guitars strapped around their necks singing perfect harmonies in each other’s faces. It was weird. It wasn’t like they were grinning, chewing the scenery, enjoying themselves, it was like they were the same as they ever were, but now I could see it and experience it, and get it.

But thereafter nothing.

And then Phil died in 2014 and now Don yesterday. Twitter blew up last night. The L.A. “Times” obituary went up almost instantaneously, it had obviously been pre-written, because at some point in the not too distant future, they knew Don was going to pass. And then he did.

84. That used to be old, but not anymore. People regularly live until 90 these days. People don’t think they’ve had a full ride until they reach that plateau, or maybe 89. And the truth is so many of our rock heroes have died before their time. Never mind the four original Ramones being dead, so many performers of the classic rock era are already dead and buried, dust in the wind, even though they were in their late sixties and early seventies. And you should see the Stones this time around if you’re ever planning to do so, this could be the last time, Charlie Watts couldn’t even make it. Arlo Guthrie had to retire. The sun is setting on our generation. And we seem to be the only ones who care.

We thought they were icons, the biggest stars in the stratosphere. But it turns out the younger generations don’t feel the same way about them, and they live in more of a song-based as opposed to act-based era. Tracks come and go, whereas if you made it in the early days of rock, during the classic rock era, you were a legend that lasted forever, above the politicians, superseding the athletes, you were gods!

Because of that sound that came out of the radio. You got a feeling you could not get anywhere else. That spoke your story, that rode shotgun, that gave you insight.

It wasn’t only Simon & Garfunkel who cut “Bye Bye Love,” so did George Harrison.

And Simon & Garfunkel recorded “Wake Up Little Susie” at their legendary Central Park concert in 1981.

But Paul Simon was born in 1941. Ditto for Art Garfunkel. And George Harrison in 1943.

As for “All I Have to Do is Dream,” not only was it covered by Jan & Dean, but even Richard Chamberlain sang it, and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and Juice Newton, and R.E.M., and Cat Power. It has truly survived the ages.

And needless to say, Linda Ronstadt rained coin down upon Phil Everly with her cover of “When Will I Be Loved,” from her breakout album “Heart Like a Wheel.” And honestly, I did not know it was an Everlys tune when I first heard it, because it was first a hit in 1960, when I was seven. But Linda Ronstadt was already fourteen, and at that age a few years make all the difference.

A few years back, well, at the beginning of this century, I saw Ronstadt at the Universal Amphitheatre. But now not only does that venue no longer exist, Rondstadt no longer sings. Time is passing.

So if you were a certain age the Everly Brothers were as big as it got. They were formative influences when all you had was the radio and black and white TV, when everybody knew all the hits and they were much bigger than anything today. Hell, the Everlys’ music lives on more than sixty years later.

Because it had such an influence on the acts that pushed music into the number one artistic medium. Music made more than movies and built the Warner Cable system. Music was a money machine. But even more it affected people’s hearts and minds. You can see an old actor in the grocery store and marvel, but when you see an old musician your heart starts to pitter-patter, your eyes start to bug, THAT’S THE GUY WHO WROTE AND PERFORMED THOSE SONGS!

But it won’t be long before those guys (and gals!) are gone.

And what they represent is on the periphery now. Rich voices singing melodic songs while playing analog instruments. Seems like a lost art when you look back and gain perspective. But the records are still here, at this point the records supersede the artists who made them, they’ve become part of our DNA.

And in many ways the Everly Brothers were there first. They established the paradigm. And I was too young to be there, to be infected, but the people I was listening to ate up all those records, Phil & Don were gods, no matter what they did thereafter, those tracks were just that big and special. The Everlys are truly one of the building blocks of rock and roll. Which meant so much they created a hall of fame and built a museum to contain it, and the Everlys were installed in the first induction ceremony.

But now that same institution has rappers and pop singers. Being inside is not much different from winning a Grammy. Some of the best acts are never even considered.

But way back when, when it was all starting, when it was new and different, the Everlys were experimenting, pushing the envelope, and the work they did may no longer be in fashion, but it’s still as fresh and direct and meaningful as the day it was released.

And now Don Everly has been released. They’re going to let ’em in upstairs. And so many of his fans are going to be there with him soon. What do they say, heaven’s got a hell of a band?

Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/3sEmedJ