If you look at the Spotify Top 50 and wince…

Chances are you’re over thirty, probably forty, fifty or sixty, and are wondering where all the good times have gone. Because now, the music is only about good times. Whereas it used to be about deeper meanings, plumbing one’s soul and revealing your warts and all.

But that was back when there was a strong middle class and no billionaires and you felt that your life would be better than that of your parents.

Not anymore.

Life is coarse. As is society. Hell, Donald Trump might be President when a hallmark of the hated Lyndon Johnson’s regime was the “Great Society.” Johnson wanted to eradicate poverty. Now if you’re poor it’s your own damn fault.

The English cats were just thrilled to escape the factory. That was their destiny. Music was a lark, not a career. And if you tested limits and failed, who cared. It was all gonna end anyway.

But then it didn’t.

And in the U.S. the scene burgeoned in San Francisco, the land of the hippies. Where people dropped out, dropped acid, and lived off the fat of the land, even though there wasn’t much. You loaned out your car, your house, your significant other… Now people live behind gates. One of the big sellers is the Ring Doorbell, god forbid someone you don’t know comes to your door.

Music is escapism, because life is so damn hard.

Many mothers didn’t even work in the sixties. Musical instruments were affordable and you learned music in school whether you liked it or not. Sure, you might have been bitten by the bug and taken lessons, but every week you had to go to the band room to learn how to read music and appreciate classical scores. Seemingly no one knows how to read music anymore, and this was all taught in the public schools!

Before government became the enemy, school budgets were cut and everybody was struggling under the weight of taxes. We made a conscious decision folks, to lower the tax burden on everybody to stimulate the economy, so the rich could create jobs. The end result? Teachers have to bring their own paper to class and roads and bridges are falling apart. But at least you got a tax cut.

And you can complain about the above, but we’ve got a gridlocked Congress run by Republicans who don’t agree. Health care for everybody is bad, the IRS is bad, everything the government does is bad. Do you really expect the best and the brightest to drop out of college, move to the coast and strum a guitar for a living, singing ditties about love, peace and happiness?

No, you’ve got rappers boasting how good they’ve got it. Both white and black. They don’t know how to say no, only yes. If the corporation is willing to write a check, they’re willing to cash it. And the goal is to become a brand, to broaden your base, sell jeans, perfume and what not, because the main goal is to become rich, screw the music.

And the companies purveying said tunes… They’re public or owned by conglomerates and as a result are risk averse. This is not the indie heyday of way back when, when A&M and Island were indie and even Warner Brothers utilized independent distribution. When your stock price is key, you take little risk. And acts sell out to the man and then complain about being hamstrung, like Kesha. So don’t take the money. But then you might be poor and unrecognized, that’s unfathomable.

And there’s an endless line ready to take the bait, to work with the forty and fiftysomething men who make the hits.

And for those doing it by themselves… Their sensibility is…

Mariah Carey supposedly wrote her own hits, but her trademark was her voice, any wonder there’s a TV show with that name, with people imitating her?

But take the focus off the acts, they’re just giving people what they want.

Does someone want to sit at home and hear about politics, when they feel they’ve got no voice and D.C. is unchangeable?

Do they want to hear about distant crushes, the girl who got away, when they know without money and the latest fashions they can’t even get a date?

Do you know what it’s like to be under twenty five today?

Drop out of college and you’ve got no future. You work for minimum wage and live in your parents’ basement.

Graduate from college and your career starts now, no taking time to find yourself, you’ve got to pay off those loans and if you’re not busy getting ahead someone’s gonna take your job.

All those people experimenting back in the sixties, Stevie Winwood with Traffic, Jimi Hendrix… They had record companies who would stand behind them, who wouldn’t drop them after one stiff, the labels were obligated to release what they recorded, but no more.

And society was all about testing limits, questioning authority, doing drugs, finding your best self, who you were was more important than your job or your bank account. But now everybody’s playing it safe, they don’t want to be without a chair when the music stops.

So you listen to the Top 50 and think it’s mindless boasting. Easily discardable music with no meaning.

You’re mostly right! But that’s what people want!

The acts don’t know any better, they never lived through the golden era. And they’re mostly lower class denizens who’ll do whatever the company tells them to.

As for electronic music… We live in a digital age, one of 0’s and 1’s, is it any wonder we’re embracing a cold sound built on laptops? Easily sendable, easily deleted?

As for listening to one album over and over…

Who’s got the time?

No one has any time anymore. Even babies are scheduled. Sitting home and being bored? That doesn’t happen, stimulation is at your fingertips.

So when will change come?

It won’t be from the outsiders doing it the old way, there’s a limited market for that. First, society must change. People must believe they’ve got a future and that music can fulfill them, give them direction as opposed to being stuff you bump your ass to in a club. And who would blame the listener? Do you really want to listen to the opinions of the nitwits who make this stuff? Most uneducated and young? No way!

So when you decry the state of the sound, know that what’s being sold is exactly what young people want. If they wanted different, the labels would make it and radio would air it. They don’t care what they sell, as long as it makes money. And it’s this vapid stuff that’s making money now.

But don’t blame them, blame yourself. Blame society. Blame government. We got ourselves into this mess, one wherein we stopped getting together and smiling on our brother and stepped right over one another to get ahead and completely ignored the disadvantaged. If you think this sounds like today’s music, YOU’RE RIGHT!

Surf City: The Jan and Dean Story

This is strangely readable.

Writing is an art, a talent that most people don’t possess. After finishing this, I tried to crack the new Brian Wilson book, it was unfathomable, short sentences as if you were in the room and the man himself was free-associating. That’s Brian, but that’s not a book.

But both Brian and Dean Torrence collaborated in the old days, along with Jan Berry, of course, a rich kid with a high IQ who owned the record charts when hits were teen fodder and the Beatles had not yet legitimized the pop sound. Jan and Brian heralded the revolution, the latter sustained, but both were trailblazers.

They grew up in Southern California. That’s the heart of this book. Growing up in West L.A. and going to Uni High and playing football and going surfing, it was a simpler time. One all of those alive were exposed to on national television, where all these shows were shot, where it was sunny every day and if there might not have been two girls for every boy, you believed you had a fighting chance.

Dean met Jan on the gridiron. The latter was cool, the former was not. And when Jan invited Dean to a party at his house he was over the moon.

High school. It’s not all mini-Mark Cubans cooking up inventions promoted by social media. And despite today’s moms complaining to the authorities when their kids get bullied, back then you were on your own, and it was the hardest battle of your life, just surviving. Sure, as an oldster you’ve got to earn a living, but that’s nothing compared with walking the halls of high school and trying to remain unscathed.

So Jan’s dad bought him a bunch of recording equipment and turned their garage into a studio. That’s the way of the world folks, the rich have advantages, their charges don’t work at Dairy Queen and can indulge both their fantasies and desires. No equipment, no act. And only a rich kid would be cool with being dropped by his record label.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Jan was the driver and everybody else cared very little, one by one they dropped out, and when Dean went up north for Army Reserve training he was excised from the group, but then Arnie, the only other man left left, and Dean filled his spot. Because Jan needed somebody. But the label didn’t like the change and that’s how they lost their deal but…

Life is about accidents. For all the planning you read about in business books, most people float through and are thrown into situations that they either take advantage of or not. Dean wanted to sing, but he also wanted to make sure he didn’t get drafted.

And the people they were involved with! Lou Adler and Herb Alpert were their managers. Who ultimately passed them off to guys who could better penetrate the movie and TV business. Who you’re aligned with is everything, you need a manager with relationships, or one who is bullheaded and can make them.

And the act succeeds and they play football against Elvis Presley’s TCB team in a park in Beverly Glen and then Jan cracks up his Corvette on Sunset Boulevard and is brain-damaged.

Thank god Dean was going to USC, whose degree he could employ to become a graphic designer.

And then there’s a TV movie of their story fifteen years later and ultimately more touring and…

You end up with a charmed life.

Or maybe it just looks that way in hindsight.

After the reunion, Jan got hooked on cocaine. Dean had to shut down the act, work with Mike Love, he ultimately made Jan an employee, he needed to be in control. When the hits dry up that’s everything, for then it’s all business. And speaking of control, Dean talks about working with James William Guercio, who kept getting punted by acts by exerting too much of it. It’s a constant struggle, the acts think you’re wrong and sometimes they’re right and we only know for sure years down the line.

But what I do know is it used to be different. Music was a lark, not a road to riches. Some were bitten by the bug and there was a coterie of youngsters willing to slurp up every drop. Your parents did not have a hold on you, the most important thing was what kind of car you drove and the boys were in search of the girls, the boys are always in search of the girls.

And if you read this book you’ll learn nuggets heretofore untold. Like the reason Jan had a cast on his leg in that album cover photo was… They were filming a movie and there was a train wreck, Dean was off in search of lunch, he escaped.

And he’s now 76. And some of what he says in the book, you cannot say. Maybe it’s just humor, but youngsters may view it as sexist. These faux pas are minor, but glaring. Funny how we all think we’re so hip and find out we’re behind the times.

And the book could have used a proofreader. Sam Cooke’s name is spelled without an “e,” and that’s only the most obvious of errors. And there are some timeline issues, but…

The book kept calling me back. I wanted to immerse myself in what once was. See it from the viewpoint of someone who’s not complaining, just testifying. As to how it was when Southern California was a hotbed of hedonism and a recording industry was built by musicians bitten by the bug promoted by self-appointed hustlers. The disruption came from those making the music as opposed to those distributing it.

And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I loved “Surf City,” and “The Little Old Lady (from Pasadena).” And to hear any stories about Dennis and Carl Wilson floats my boat.

But I also realize that back then, in the era I grew up in, money wasn’t everything, following your dream was. The last place you wanted to work was the bank. You wanted to be on the beach, playing volleyball, having fun, experiencing life with the radio on.

With the radio on.

“Ready To Get Lost At Forneris Farms”?

We did!

I’ve been sitting in the house for too long, staring at all four walls recovering from my shoulder surgery. I’m back and at ’em now, veering from here to there, booking all comers, and when I found myself inside this morning…I STARTED TO FREAK OUT! I needed to go somewhere, but where?

Used to be I went to the movies. But that no longer makes sense. With untold hours of unwatched television on demand in the house, far superior to anything playing in the theatre. And I’m no longer twenty five, with my buds tracking me down to play on the weekend, as a matter of fact, I use the weekend as respite, I recover from the week. And everybody’s kids are out of the house and you get to a certain point where you’ve got no idea what to do with yourself.

And that’s when it hit me, I wanted to go to a corn maze!

I’d only been to one before, outside of Minneapolis. Where there was a tower in the middle in case you got lost, you could survey the landscape and find your way out, there was even an escape gate.

But not today.

Mr. Smartypants felt there would be no problem. If anything, I was worried I would go too fast, and that my fifteen bucks would be a gross overspend.

Boy, was I wrong.

So we drove to the edge of the San Fernando Valley. Where Forneris Farms had a cornucopia of Halloween attractions. Made me feel like I’d missed out. It was all about kids… Playing musical chairs with pumpkins, going on pony rides, getting their faces painted… But we were here for the corn maze.

So we paid our money and got our wristbands and the concierge gave us a map…

I don’t need no stinkin’ map!

And on the back side were clues. You see there were fifteen puzzles, and if you solved them you might win a hundred bucks, there would be a raffle. I didn’t want the money, but I did want the completion.

And the first couple of clues were easy.

But then I noticed there was a numbering system and we’d missed a few so I implored Felice to retrace our steps.

That was the big mistake.

I didn’t feel that bad at first, the woman with purple hair was confused too.

But then the sun came out and Felice started to wilt and I gave up on completing the entire puzzle but for the life of me I couldn’t find the way out. Having abandoned the map from the get-go, I had no idea where we truly were. Having not wanted to cheat, I was completely lost.

And the sorority sisters are marching by. As are the families with kids in tow. They weren’t stuck, what was gonna happen to us?

And while I stood there, contemplating the map, all wrong, it turned out, I asked this young Latino man if he had a clue. He did! He said we were in the “1”!

That’s right, at the top of the maze “2016” was spelled out. I thought we were far below that. So I asked, could we follow him?

Each of us has his own special gift. And this guy was a tracker nonpareil. He knew exactly where we were at all times. Well, he got stumped once, but he finally brought us to the exit.

I was relieved, but they’d missed a couple of puzzles and were going back in. This twentysomething and his tattooed wife and two young children. Isaiah took a liking to Felice, held on to her shirt. Funny how you bond when you’re in danger.

And as we sipped our lemonade I Yelped for lunch. I’m up for adventure. And the number one hit was Tortas Ahogadas, a Guadalajaran place only five minutes away.

The app took us there, but I was flummoxed by the menu, it was completely in Spanish! Never occurred to me this could happen mere miles away from my abode.

Then I looked around and discovered I was the outsider. All the faces were brown.

I also discovered I ordered the wrong thing. That you were supposed to get the grilled barbecue style taco. They grilled the whole thing, the tortilla too. It was kind of orange, and there were tacos on every table.

But my tostada was excellent.

But I had no idea when it would come. Felice jumped up to retrieve our food and it wasn’t there.

And that’s when the Latino man with stars tattooed up and down his arm leaned over and told me there was a number system, and to let him know ours, he’d notify me when our food was ready.

And I’m sitting there contemplating how the rich have contempt for each other, they’re busy pushing each other out of the way to get ahead, and every Latino I encountered was going out of his way to help me out, to be nice, to include me.

You live in the city and pay fealty to the media and you come to believe everybody’s a winner or a loser, that it’s a rat race with no normality. And then you venture out of your comfort zone and find out this is not the case. Made me wonder, had I played my hand wrong? Maybe it’s just about having a job, getting married and raising some kids, revisiting the world you once inhabited through their eyes.

Like the sandbox. I lived for it way back when. I had my special tools, back when they were made out of metal and not plastic. I can’t say I wanted to jump into the pit with the munchkins at Forneris Farms, but I was envious of their happiness. If only life were that simple. Maybe it is that simple and I’m just overcomplicating it.

One thing I know for sure is my life got way too narrow. That there are experiences for the taking right around the corner, if you can slow down and stop worrying if you’re on the guest list and be willing to be part of the throng, just like everybody else.

Maybe I’m a child at heart. Maybe you never have to go to a corn maze.

Maybe I’ve had better Mexican food.

But I had fun. And I realized you don’t have to be rich to be happy. And that we’re all in this together, and you’ll never expect who will lend a helping hand.

Forneris Farms – The Corn Maze

The pic is the actual maze we did today. You can see the “1” in “2016”!

Tortas Ahogadas Las Originales

You can see the barbecue style tacos in the pic at the top of the page!

Friday New Release Playlist

Friday was my record shopping day.

Monday was my record returning day.

That’s what people seem to forget about the vinyl revival, the imperfections. Most companies did not use 100% virgin vinyl, they employed regrind. As in when you returned records, they steamed off the labels, maybe, ground up the what remained and then made new discs out of it. Such that the new stuff was laden with pops and clicks. The worst offender was Atlantic, although they were all pretty bad. And never mind the warps. Your needle would skip, you’d get wow and flutter, and then you’d have to return the LP. Casual buyers would just keep ’em. But dedicated fans were in search of purity. If it didn’t play, if it skipped, you absolutely returned it. But how much surface noise could you tolerate? And if you were a dedicated customer, addicted to the sound, you’d be returning records en masse and you’d get to the point where the store would say “no mas” and you had to find another outlet to shop at.

That’s what was so great about CDs, the lack of imperfections.

But still, you could not hear it unless you bought it. You purchased the next albums by your favorites, unless the buzz was deafeningly bad. You bought the new releases with the most buzz, the ones with songs you heard on the radio, and then there was stuff that got good reviews, you’d take a chance. And if some week there was nothing to buy, you’d fill out the catalog. As years went by, stores stocked less and less of it. You had to find an indie which knew what to bring in. So you might go back and buy Neil Young’s debut, an exquisite production, one of his best, or you might finger it for years, waiting to have enough money and nothing else at the top of your list.

But today, today, everything is at your fingertips.

But you don’t even know it’s out. Did you know there’s a new Eric Clapton live album? And a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band one too? Used to be you went to the new release bin and saw what came out. But now, there’s a plethora of product and the hype never reaches you and albums go unheard. But I’ve become addicted to Spotify’s “Your Release Radar” playlist and I saw these recommendations under the Discover tab, under “New Releases For You.”

So I’m gonna tell you what grabbed me this week.

“Somebody Else” – alt edit
The 1975

There was tons of buzz, but it never closed me, but this track did immediately. How did I miss it? I knew I missed it, because there’s been no recent buzz, and with the hip acts I hear the hype.

Turns out this came out back in February, of 2016. And it’s got 49 million plus plays on Spotify already. But that’s the original studio take, which is not quite as magical.

And “magical” is the operative word. Stay until just past the half minute mark, when the song changes, when it starts to march. Funny, in the original it happens fifteen seconds later.

I could analyze deeper, but despite the band’s moniker this is more akin to eighties English music. A sound that washed over you, took you away, made you feel good.

“Journeyman”
Jamestown Revival

And this sounds positively seventies, and if you were alive back then you’ll hear the similarity to the Sutherland Brothers & Quiver’s masterpiece “(I Don’t Want to Love You But) You Got Me Anyway.” It’s not on any streaming service, but you can hear it on YouTube:

Sutherland Brothers And Quiver – (I Don’t Want To Love You But) You Got Me Anyway – 45 RPM

This is a crazy video wherein the maker shows you the actual 45 and then puts it on the record player and drops the needle, but when he does…YOU’LL GET IT! And I did immediately when I heard it driving my ’63 Chevy convertible from Amherst to Middlebury in the fall of ’73, this is what music used to sound like, I immediately had to buy the album, I had to have this song at my fingertips.

Anyway, this Jamestown Revival song has got the groove of “(I Don’t Want to Love You But) You Got Me Anyway” but the sound bleeds into the darkness of the sixties, as if you were walking down a rainy street in the U.K., even though this is an American band. This is subtle, but it’ll get under your skin.

“Tennessee Stud” (feat. Vince Gill)
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

This album flies so far under the radar it’s not even referenced on Wikipedia yet, which is where we go to do our research. I’ve got questions, exactly when was this recorded?

I didn’t buy the three LP set “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” until the late seventies, half a decade after it came out. I was aware of it, but never heard it until I was at a party in Salt Lake City and a guy who made money fishing to pay for his skiing dropped the needle on “Tennessee Stud.” The original version, via the Dirt Band, featured Doc Watson, who had a different vocal style from Vince Gill, but Vince’s smooth as scotch pipes add their own special quality. If you think music is for listening as opposed to selling, that it’s about the sound as opposed to the commerce, check this out.

“You Ain’t Going Nowhere”
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

The definitive version is by the Byrds, it appeared on “Sweetheart Of The Rodeo,” I’m gonna include it, you should hear it. Despite becoming a legend, “Sweetheart Of The Rodeo” was a stiff upon release, rockers weren’t quite ready for country and there was no hit, Gram Parsons transmogrified the Byrds but then moved on. I didn’t hear this until years later when I went to visit my high school buddy at Hampshire College where it was all the rage. “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” was written by Bob Dylan in the “Basement Tapes” era. It leaked out. It was a classic passed on from player to player, over time everybody knew it, even though I’ve never ever heard it on the radio. Unfortunately, this Dirt Band version is not definitive, but I had to check it out, I need to each and every version of “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.”

“These Days” (feat. Jackson Browne)
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Well I’ve been out walking
I don’t do too much talking these days

This’ll make you cry, make you remember what once was, when music was everything, when it touched your soul.

The arrangement is very similar to the one on Jackson’s double live LP, but this is just as good, with the original words to boot, which you have probably never heard.

Jackson was in the Dirt Band, however briefly.

But boomers recognized his genius when Gregg Allman covered this song on 1973’s “Laid Back,” which came out just about the same time as Jackson’s second LP, with his version, it was good timing. But Tom Rush debuted the number.

This is heartbreakingly good.

“Fishin’ In The Dark” (feat. Jimmy Ibbotson)
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

My old fave Wendy Waldman dropped out, left SoCal for NashVegas, and ended up writing this with Jim Photoglo, the Dirt Band covered it and it went all the way to number one and I never heard it because back in ’87 no rocker tuned into country, I didn’t experience it until much later when I heard Wendy perform it live. The original has a bit more energy and spunk in the chorus, but the groove in the verse of this iteration sustains, it’ll get you.

“An American Dream” (feat. Rodney Crowell with Alison Krauss)
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

I bought this album on one of those Friday afternoon excursions, I found it in the promo bin and took a risk. This is what made me a Dirt Band fan, I had no idea the track went all the way up to number 13 on the Hot 100 until I just checked it out on Wikipedia!

“Mr. Bojangles” (feat. Jerry Jeff Walker)
“Circlin’ Back – Celebrating 50 Years (Live)”
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

This will make you tingle.

The Dirt Band had the hit with this, but Jerry Jeff Walker wrote it, and he sings it here. Who even knew Jerry Jeff Walker was still alive? Our folkies have become like old bluesmen, hiding in plain sight, maybe some college kids will reach out and resuscitate their careers.

“Anyday”
“Live in San Diego (with Special Guest JJ Cale)”
Eric Clapton

This is the cut that closed me on “Layla.” I vividly remember hearing it in Dave McCormick’s dorm room during winter term of ’71, freshman year. You see during January at Middlebury you only took one course, intensively, and then you skied and got high, which is what we were doing when I first heard this.

I was a huge fan of Eric’s solo debut, can you say “Easy Now” and “Let It Rain”? But I’d skipped “Layla,” there was little noise, it took time to build, ultimately it became deafening.

This take has the same powerful riff, a wave at Waimea that’s gonna plow you under. And then there are the dynamics, how it gets quiet and subtle.

“Tell The Truth”
“Live in San Diego (with Special Guest JJ Cale)”
Eric Clapton

Oh, that pickin’, and then they lay down in the groove.

“Little Wing”
“Live in San Diego (with Special Guest JJ Cale)”
Eric Clapton

Jimi Hendrix wrote it, Clapton popularized it and Sting brought it home.

I never bought “Axis: Bold As Love,” I was not rich in the sixties, I stopped at “Are You Experienced,” I didn’t even buy “Electric Ladyland,” even though at this point the Hendrix song I want to hear most is “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.” Do you know it? I know I’m going off point, but I’m gonna include it…oh that riff! We used to live for the riff, we used to sing them in our heads, they kept us going!

“Just Your Fool”
The Rolling Stones”

You’re gonna have to slow down for this one. Throw out your preconceptions, forget about the rat race and remember being in the basement spinning 45s, which the English lads did, they were American blues numbers, which the Yanks were no longer interested in.

The Stones haven’t been able to get arrested on wax for years. But this time they decided to chuck it all and go back to their roots, to where it all began, and it’s strangely affecting. By not trying to prove something, they’ve proved everything.

This is the sound that launched the British Invasion, it was this music filtered through the U.K. that revolutionized music. Maybe some young ‘uns will hear this and be inspired to go back to what once was. When first and foremost music was about emotion, when records were hermetically sealed, cut in a faraway land that we were privileged to listen to but could never penetrate. In the grooves was a whole world we wanted to enter, we peeled back the curtain and jumped inside, you can too.

There’s a wealth of music on streaming services. They’re making it easier for you to discover it. Could make you a fan once again. Could make Fridays my music discovery day once again.