“The Best of Buffalo Springfield: Retrospective”: https://spoti.fi/3baFhYG

1

It comes after “Rock & Roll Woman” on “Retrospective.”

Funny, “Rock & Roll Woman” was why I bought the Buffalo Springfield greatest hits compilation, it was the song that sounded most like the Stephen Stills material that generated such success, that was so satisfying on the first Crosby, Stills & Nash album, and now it’s been lost to the sands of time, “Bluebird” remains, never mind “For What It’s Worth,” but not “Rock & Roll Woman.”

It was all about “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” Sure, you could hear “Marrakesh Express” on AM radio, but that’s not what converted listeners overnight, that was “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.”

“It’s getting to the point…”

That guitar intro, if you could play that you were a superstar. We all had guitars, we all sat in front of the turntable, dropping the needle over and over again to learn the songs. But it’s one thing to know how to play the chords, quite another to be able to replicate whatever Stephen Stills was doing in this track.

“I am yours, you are mine

You are what you are

You make it hard”

It was Judy Collins’s birthday. Stephen insisted she stop by so he could give her a gift. Which turned out to be a guitar. And then he proceeded to play “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” and Judy told him she liked the song, but they still weren’t getting back together.

Still… Those of us playing the home game saw “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” as upbeat, a source of elation. A stripping down of what came before so all that was left was the essence.

“Friday evening, Sunday in the afternoon”

Sunday afternoon in Los Angeles, it’s the light. Especially in the fall. It’s still warm, but the light is golden, it both warms you and sets your mind adrift, gets you reflecting. It’s this change that makes the song so great. And then the whole thing revs up again.

You could drop the needle on “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” over and over again and never get to “Marrakesh Express,” the second song on the LP.

As for my favorites on the album, after “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” came “Long Time Gone.” The oozy bass, the bottom covering the landscape like Mississippi mud… It was 1969, the country was in turmoil, it certainly seemed like a long time before the dawn.

After that… It was the Stills songs, “You Don’t Have to Cry” and “Helplessly Hoping” most especially. I came to “Helplessly Hoping” late. Oh, I’d heard it a zillion times, but it only resonated about a decade or two later, when I realized despite the harmonizing voices the song was really quite intimate, quite inside.

You have to understand, David Crosby was not known as a frontman at this point. In the Byrds it was Jim/Roger McGuinn. Oh, you knew him from the album covers, but not everybody bought the albums, we’d blown all our cash on the British Invasion bands.

As for Graham Nash… So, he was in the Hollies. Seen as a Top Forty band by me, I didn’t know a soul who owned an album. In an era of credibility they did not appear to have any, despite having infectious hits that you sang along with, that you could not get out of your head, and I guess Graham Nash realized this and he decamped to Southern California to create something more meaningful. But having said that, to this day I still don’t like “Marrakesh Express,” it’s just too lightweight. And “Lady of the Island” was intimate, but not in the league of other tracks on the album. Yet at the time I thought Nash put out the best initial solo album of the three, “Songs for Beginners.” The album hasn’t aged that well, but “I Used to Be a King” is a stone cold smash, as in something you can not forget, it’s a perfect melding of vocal, music, changes and lyrics.

“Someone is going to take my heart

But no one is going to break my heart again”

“I Used to Be a King” should be a standard, alas it’s not, although many still do remember “Simple Man.”

But Crosby, it wasn’t like today, he hadn’t been in jail, he hadn’t been pontificating everywhere, his songs on the CSN debut were infectious. “Guinnevere”…it’s the opposite if today’s in-your-face music. It’s like you’re invited to a song circle in someone’s house in Laurel Canyon.

And “Wooden Ships”… Incalculably great. And the Jefferson Airplane version from “Volunteers,” released in the fall of 1969, was different but just as good in its own way. And did you have the pressing of the CSN album where “Say, can I have some of your purple berries” was barely audible? I certainly did.

But I did like Nash’s first side closer “Pre-Road Downs,” it had a healthy energy that was undeniable. And then you flipped the album over and got “Wooden Ships,” bringing you back into the maelstrom once again, far from an easily seen exit.

The second side ended with Stills’s “49 Bye-Byes,” which started slowly, but then gained energy and finished out the second side just like “Pre-Road Downs” did the first, with energy, leaving you in the quietude, wondering what adventure you’d just been on. If you didn’t want to move to Southern California after listening to the Beach Boys, you certainly did after listening to the CSN debut. And they seemed to know how damn good they were. The only show-off track was the opener, “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” everything else was understated as opposed to overblown, the band didn’t need to convince you, if you were exposed to the music you were closed. And the CSN debut was not an instant hit, it took a long time to build, just like its contemporary, the first Led Zeppelin album, but by time their follow-ups were released word had spread and they were instant smashes, first “Led Zeppelin II” and then “Deja Vu.”

2

I’m listening to the album right now in Ultra HD via Amazon Music and I’m positively stunned, these harmonies seem to be a lost art, and this was long before auto-tune, and in truth the Woodstock movie informed us they were hard to replicate live. But you listen to these three voices together and harmony seems like a lost art. Then again, sitting around with acoustics singing songs together is a lost art. You can’t do this with beats, and although there’s plenty of wooden music out there, none is in the league of Crosby, Stills & Nash, nobody can write the songs and they don’t have such exquisite voices to boot.

Now I know some people a bit older than I am who bought Buffalo Springfield albums, but I did not. But “For What It’s Worth”???

“There’s something happening here

But what it is ain’t exactly clear”

Pandora’s Box is long gone, but now the Sunset Strip riots have faded in the rearview mirror too, almost completely disappeared. This was the American youthquake, this was when the west coast came back to grab the torch from the British. Sure, it started with the Byrds and “Mr. Tambourine Man,” hell, even the Turtles with “It Ain’t Me Babe,” but those were Dylan songs, however good, “For What It’s Worth” was an original.

“What a field day for the heat”

Do youngsters know what “heat” refers to here? Do they know that Joni Mitchell was singing about metaphorical swine when she said she was going to kiss a Sunset pig in “California”? The police were the enemy. They were the heat, that’s what they brought down on a situation. And they were the pigs. Today the police are heroes. Sure, they seem to randomly kill Black people, and white people will come out and protest when the behavior gets too egregious, but in truth they don’t see police brutality as their problem.

“We better stop

Hey what’s that sound

Everybody look what’s going down”

But today people have no interest in looking. I saw a tweet that said Ann Coulter had written a Substack piece condemning Donald Trump for January 6th and when I clicked through and read the piece I learned this was true, but mostly she hated Trump for not fulfilling campaign promises like the erection of the wall. And I never used to read the comments, but David Krebs told me he did so now I check them out. And what did they say? Coulter was dead wrong, there was fraud in the election, the presidency was stolen, they’re still solid in their belief, even if the 1/6 hearings are more of a hit movie than “Top Gun: Maverick” or the latest “Jurassic Park,” and with more staying power too, assuming you’re paying attention. I went on the Fox News site earlier today and I kept scrolling and I still did not find anything about yesterday’s 1/6 hearings.

So “For What It’s Worth” is out of time, but incredibly still accurate. They tell us not to draw battle lines but in truth you either stand up for the truth or you don’t. History isn’t kind to those who don’t, even short term history. If everybody else jumps off a bridge should you? Beware of the crowd, think for yourself, at least that’s what George Harrison said.

3

Now at this point Buffalo Springfield has more cred than the various incarnations of Crosby, Stills, Nash and sometimes Young. Maybe because except for a brief live reunion almost a decade ago there’s never been a Buffalo Springfield get-together, whereas CSNY have soldiered on, at least until David Crosby pissed everybody else off.

People say it’s all about the second LP, “Buffalo Springfield Again.” But like I said I started with “Retrospective.”

You only had to hear “Rock & Roll Woman” once. At least I only had to hear it once. Which occurred in the light of the afternoon at my friend Marc Goloff’s house, I needed to own this. “Rock & Roll Woman” had the Stills guitars and the harmonies of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” it was an antecedent, and so satisfying, a Dead Sea Scroll.

“Retrospective” opened with “For What It’s Worth.” And then came Neil Young’s “Mr. Soul,” which was the only song of Mr. Young’s that had gotten any airplay on underground FM rock radio in New York, I knew it, it wasn’t new to me, and it’s so satisfying, it’s that chorus and stinging guitar.

Next came “Sit Down I Think I Love You,” which sounded dated, from the first album. Written by Stills, it was sung by Stephen and Richie. But, it was more 1966 than 1969.

Next came Richie Furay’s signature song, “Kind Woman.”

But the true killer came thereafter. I may not have bought any Buffalo Springfield albums, but it appeared all the musicians were intimately familiar with the band’s material. The James Gang did a great version of “Bluebird” on their debut “Yer’ Album,” check it out. And almost as obscure is the Bonnie Raitt version that opens her initial LP. The James Gang make the song heavier and Bonnie Raitt makes it acoustic from the mountains and both versions are far from rote renditions, these two acts put their own spin on this song, and end up owning it themselves.

“On the Way Home” is a Neil Young song sung by Richie Furay, theoretically making it more ear-pleasing, more commercial, but it didn’t have much of an impact. But if you listen to the lyrics and especially the changes in the pre-chorus and chorus you know quite definitely this is Neil’s work.

The side two opener, “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing” is a Neil song, more dark than light, but the edge is removed by having Stephen, Richie and Neil all sing.

But next came the secret killer, “Broken Arrow,” this was the Neil Young of the first solo album, from here you get to “Last Trip to Tulsa.” It came before “Rock & Roll Woman” and these are the two cuts people talked about most back then, especially after Neil was added to CSN.

The 11th track on the album, the second to last on side two, was the band’s opener from the very first album, at least until “For What It’s Worth” became a hit and it was stripped in atop, it’s entitled “Go and Say Goodbye.” It’s a lighthearted romp that is once again a period piece. A compact ditty. Far beyond what is released today, but not up to hit standards in the mid-sixties.

The final song on the album is Neil Young’s “Expecting to Fly,” it’s got a majesty from back when, when we were only slightly disillusioned, as opposed to today when we’re about to give up, if we haven’t already. “Expecting to Fly” was a bit foreign to the sunniness of the work of Stephen Stills and Richie Furay, but that’s probably one of the reasons Neil left the band, he didn’t really fit in. And in my mind he never really fit in with Crosby, Stills & Nash.

4

So when you love a track you drop the needle and play it over and over again, like I said above. The CD was such a breakthrough, with programmability, and you’ve got no idea how good you’ve got it in the streaming era, hell you can just call out to Alexa and Siri and hear any track you want to, have the machine play it ad infinitum.

But you had to be right in front of the turntable to do this. Or even worse, you had to get up. I don’t understand why everyone wants a manual turntable, it’s such a pain in the ass to get up and lift the tonearm up at the end of the record.

So it got to the point where I just dropped the needle at the beginning of the second side, I’d hear “Rock & Roll Woman” only once, but I wouldn’t have to get up constantly.

So that’s why I know “Broken Arrow.” I never really loved “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing,” the second side really began for me with “Broken Arrow.” And then came “Rock & Roll Woman.”

And then came “I Am a Child.”

“I am a child, I’ll last a while

You can’t conceive of the pleasure in my smile”

We were all children, we were delaying growing up. Going to work for the bank? We didn’t even want a career!

The verses of “I Am a Child” are reminiscent of “Long May You Run,” then again the latter came over half a decade later.

And there’s a country feel that was ultimately present in the Byrds and the Burritos, “I Am a Child” is a product of 1968, just like “Sweetheart of the Rodeo.”

“You are a man, you understand

You pick me up and you lay me down again

You  make the rules, you say what’s fair

It’s lots of fun to have you there”

NO IT’S NOT! Neil’s being sarcastic. The man is messing with his music, the man is manipulating him, using him as his toy, not respecting him, the cash cow, where all the money comes from.

“I Am a Child” is jaunty, and almost optimistic before you dig into the lyrics. Then again, so many Neil Young songs are like this. more glass half empty than half full. Today everybody’s a winner. You can’t show weakness. You’ve got to be upbeat all the time. But truly, that’s not the life of an artist.

Now the funny thing about getting older is you get younger. All the trappings of being an adult, making your way in the world, fade away. You desire the sensations of your youth. You long for the feelings of yore. You desire to be taken away from the everyday grind. Which is one of the reasons the dinosaurs do such good business on the road. Oldsters don’t want to shoot selfies, they want to revel in the sound.

And all these songs are inside our brains, they’re part of us, they helped get us through. And they pop up at strange times. They may not have even been your favorites, but you know them by heart. They’re in your brain when you wake up, you’re singing them to yourself, you never know when a song will grab you. Just now “I Am a Child” was playing in my brain.

I’m listening to it now.

1

It was not a hit in America.

One of the thrills of going to London in 1972, besides going to the Chelsea Drugstore and the record stores, like Virgin, before there was a label, was the music press. Three weekly tabloids. A cornucopia of information. Nothing was that up-to-date in the U.S. “Rolling Stone” came out every two weeks, and read like it.

So I immediately purchased the three rags and what were they talking about? T. Rex and David Bowie.

Now T. Rex I was aware of, from previously being Tyrannosaurus Rex. I’d see them in the bins, not that I ever heard the music. Supposedly it was arty, reviews were not bad, but one could only afford so much music.

And then came “Get It On.” BANG A GONG, GET IT ON! That was a song you only had to hear once. But you didn’t hear it too often. FM didn’t embrace it and it got spotty airplay on AM but whenever it came on the radio I smiled. I remember driving down the Taconic hearing it on the radio on a drive from Middlebury to a show in New York. Yes, one play can make these incredible memories.

Now in the U.K., T. Rex was having hit after hit. “Telegram Sam,” “Metal Guru,” but what I heard I didn’t quite get. Although eventually I purchased “The Slider” and loved the title track, but not a whole hell of a lot more.

As for David Bowie? Why now? There’s not a hit single. But reviews were effusive. This guy had been around for years and had finally thrown down the gauntlet. Hosannas were everywhere. This I had to hear.

And this was back when you had to buy an album to hear it. They certainly were not playing Ziggy Stardust on the radio in the U.S. at the end of August ’72 when I purchased it.

Actually, it was called “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” Yes, Bowie employed an alter-ego, even though we never knew of him to begin with. And we also were unaware of Mick Ronson and…

The cover was dark. Remember when rock was the antithesis to the daytime, to light? Back before everybody bragged about how early they got up in the morning? It was all about staying up late, when the straights were asleep, when we owned the town, when anything could happen. As for Bowie’s look? Didn’t look that outside, after all we’d never seen what he’d been before.

So I’m back from the record store, I’ve broken the shrink wrap, and I drop the needle. I don’t know what I’m going to hear, but it’s “Five Years.”

Now “Five Years” is slow, back when you wanted to hit the audience over the head with your opener. It was a dystopian tale. That one couldn’t really relate to back in ’72, which wasn’t quite like the sixties, but even though Nixon was re-elected in November everything was pretty good, especially compared to today.

But what was impressive about “Five Years” was the vocal, its intensity. Bowie was shouting, singing as if he were a star, even though he was not. He was not self-conscious, he was a self-declared seer. And you could understand every word when so much was incomprehensible on records decades before the internet revealed all the lyrics.

But the follow-up, “Soul Love”? I didn’t dig that all. The chorus was much better than the verse, but it seemed like an excuse for Bowie to play the saxophone, to demonstrate his dexterity.

And then came “Moonage Daydream.”

2

“Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah”

It was that sound at the beginning, that buzzsaw guitar cutting through the atmosphere, demanding attention. And then this descending chorus. Now wait a second, this is good, this I’ve got to hear again, this is GREAT!

And although it is rock it’s the opposite of the southern rock dominating the FM airwaves, even much of the English stuff. “Ray gun”? This was before “Star Wars” and the unending fascination with science fiction. Sure, we remembered ray guns from Saturday morning television, but we outgrew them, right?

And “Moonage Daydream” flowed into “Starman,” which was easily accessible in a way that “Soul Love,” even “Five Years,” was not. With a traditional structure, a catchy chorus and then the incongruous lyrics:

“Let the children lose it

Le the children use it

Let all the children boogie”

Boogie? I didn’t think an English act could utter the word, which already had a bad connotation amongst the hipsters who would attach themselves to David Bowie first. We’re in full sci-fi mode here now, the rocket ship has blasted from the launching pad, you were either on it or not, on the bus of off as the Pranksters would say, you forgot what you were attached to previously, you went along for the ride.

3

“When you climb to the top of the mountain

Look out over the sea

Think about the places perhaps, where a young man could be”

Huh? Ron Davies’s “It Ain’t Easy”? That track is so obscure that it’s not on streaming services today, it’s not worth it to conquer the rights issues and get it posted.

I mean I knew it, because it was on the free A&M sampler that the label sent to compete with Warner/Reprise’s two dollar two disc loss leaders. “Friends” was only one disc, but it exhibited a cornucopia of talent, and there were only two acts I’d never heard of before, Lambert & Nuttycombe and Ron Davies.

You can see the track listing here: https://bit.ly/3xYEwuL

Even better you can hear Ron Davies’s original take on YouTube here: https://bit.ly/3zE1k49 There’s a lengthy acoustic intro, and then the track settles into the familiar groove that grabs you. The same one Bowie employs, it’s essentially the same arrangement, but how did Bowie know it? Nobody else seemed to. But Bowie’s vocal makes all the difference, lifts it from a Mad Dogs and Englishmen chorus-type track and brings it right up to 1972. The song has a deeper meaning. Or should I say Bowie MEANS it. This is a voice Bowie completely discarded as the years went by. But when you’re breaking rules, why not break all of them? Although the verses are acoustic, there’s a stinging electric guitar in the chorus as well as a whole neighborhood of voices. The song is taken out of the backwoods and deposited right into the grit of the dirty city.

4

As for “Lady Stardust”… Bowie’s now singing to the back row, it’s not the intimate sound of the opening of the record. And the changes are familiar, it’s easily understood.

“Star” was a romp. Seemingly out of place on this album, more akin to “Uncle Ernie” on “Tommy.” Tony went to Belfast, and the album was otherworldly if you were in America, Bowie was not playing to us, but a cadre of insiders who were definitely English.

“Hang on to Yourself”… Bowie’s talk-singing, it’s got the speed and the guitars of the soon to arrive Ramones and the rest of the punkers.

As for “Ziggy Stardust”… This was the analogue to “Moonage Daydream,” the one listen smash. It was that innovative riff. And the entire story. Akin to Bad Company’s “Shooting Star,” but that wouldn’t come out for three more years. “Ziggy Stardust” was the story of the band, it brought the whole album, the whole concept together.

“Suffragette City” was built from parts from the rock canon, but the guitar was a bit more crunchy and you had the attitude of the vocals, and then… WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA’AM? This seemed a misstep, out of character, would a guy this sophisticated sing this? I guess yes, but this still bugs me today. Like I said, “Suffragette City” was not innovative, but it pushed the faders to ten on all the parts, brought out all the clichés and the end result was better than the usual tripe.

As for “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide,” this closing track was like “Five Years, the opener, it starts quietly instead of noisy and builds in amplitude and intensity. And it was quite obviously the capper of the story. And in truth, Ziggy Stardust did not live for that much longer, but…

The record ended, there was quietude, and my only option was to start over, I played it again and again, it was revealing itself to me more with each play. Nobody else I knew even owned it. So, it was private, and you treasure records like that. And the more I played it the more I liked it, loved it.

5

“Ziggy Stardust” was followed by “Aladdin Sane,” Bowie had made inroads in America, but “Aladdin Sane” was a disappointment, after “Ziggy Stardust” we expected something more, at least I did. One step beyond. We got “Jean Genie,” but a cover of “Let’s Spend the Night Together”? I mean “Panic in Detroit” was a killer, but you couldn’t give someone “Aladdin Sane” and tell them to play it a few times and they’d emerge converted.

I bought “Pin Ups,” because I’m a completist, I have to have everything, I was not going to abandon ship. But I can’t say that I played it much. It’s just that Bowie’s versions of the classics…didn’t add anything to the classics themselves. The originals superseded them by a large margin. This is a record that really didn’t need to be released.

And then came “Diamond Dogs.”

Critics said it was the worst Bowie album yet, that it was pandering to the masses. But now AOR radio was in every hamlet and burg. And it was a meat and potatoes audience. And the album had “Rebel Rebel.” An almost stupid single. It was all over the airwaves during the summer of 1974, at least the FM airwaves. I went to see the show at Madison Square Garden, Bowie’s rep could sell out an arena at this point, and the staging was a take-off on the Guy Peellaert cover, with the backup singers running around in dog suits, the entire thing was overblown, this wasn’t what I signed up for.

6

And then Bowie disappeared. Gone. But when he came back…

It was a completely different sound. It was “Young Americans” that started to cement the David Bowie legend, he could have been a footnote, just another rocker employing glam elements to success, but how to explain this R&B album without the affected vocals?

It was a revelation.

Ultimately the hit was “Fame.” I didn’t love it then and I can still barely listen to it today. But I remember the first time I heard “Somebody Up There Likes Me.”

I’d slept in my 2002 behind the Hart ski warehouse in Reno. The sun came up, shined brightly, there was no way I was gonna get any more shut-eye, I shimmied out of my sleeping bag, turned the key and cruised the stations on the Blaupunkt. And that’s when I heard “Somebody Up There Likes Me.”

There’s the exuberance, the tension and the release. The intro is a minute of David Sanborn blowing, he’s got no particular place to go, he’s not worried about playing too long, and “Deacon Blues” wasn’t even in the mind of Steely Dan. It’s like Bowie’s on stage knowing that he’s gonna blow the audience away, they’re going to come running like lemmings to the sound. This is not the Bowie of yore, who needs it, who needs to convince you. In this case the sound is enough, one listen infects you.

And I feel the same way about “Fascination.”

And then came version two, “Station to Station.” “Golden Years” was superior to “Fame,” and “TVC15” was infectious, the whole album was solid, but sans the peaks of “Young Americans.”

But then Bowie PIVOTED!

7

You couldn’t get away with this today. Fans are not that dedicated. Well, maybe some hard core fans are but not the casual listeners keeping superstars in business.

It was now 1977. The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac were cementing their legends with “Hotel California” and “Rumours,” extensions on what had come before, but “Low”? It had no precedent. Except the ascendant electronic music scene, whose only breakthrough had been Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn,” seen as a novelty record at this point.

But there was a power in “Speed of Life.”

As for the sound of “Breaking Glass,” it was even less easily digested, but you were either in or out at this point, on the Bowie train or not, he was on his own artistic hejira, this was not “Diamond Dogs” and “Rebel Rebel,” giving people what they wanted.

Who knew the title track of “Heroes” would go on to become a standard, it certainly wasn’t back in 1977, when it was released. The album was seen as a more obvious exploration in the “Low”lands, and it wasn’t until Bowie came back with the MTV staple “Let’s Dance” in 1983 that he was front and center, atop the hit parade once again. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the theme song to “Cat People,” the movie which broke Nastassja Kinski, we all talked about putting out fire with gasoline, back when a record could truly be ubiquitous and infect the entire public, far beyond the reach of Drake, never mind Kendrick Lamar or Kanye.

8

Bowie kept experimenting to his death. He didn’t want a victory lap, he just wanted to complete his new album.

Bowie is a legend because he kept evolving whereas most of our heroes stopped, are still frozen in amber, playing the hits of yore.

And it all started with “Ziggy Stardust.”

Which was followed by the years old nonstarter “Space Oddity,” which finally became a hit in America, helping drive ticket buyers to the Garden and the rest of the big venues, but at this late date, I have to say the best, and my favorite David Bowie album, is “Hunky Dory.”

It was “Life on Mars” that got played when he shockingly died.

And “Changes” is now a staple, even though you never heard it in America back in 1971 when the album came out.

And it’s songs like “Oh! You Pretty Things” that make an act a legend, because true stars are always embraced first by the outsiders, those who don’t fit in.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention “Andy Warhol” and “Kooks.” This was back before it was about becoming a worldwide sensation, when everything was still local, when you felt your own life meant something, you didn’t feel overburdened by the harsh community and people telling you how to live and act.

But that brings us back to “Ziggy Stardust.”

9

When you’re enamored of an act, when they’re your new favorite, you’ve got to go see them live, before everybody finds out and you can still get close. So we drove down from Middlebury to see Bowie at the Music Hall in Boston on October 1st 1972. Through the magic of the internet you can see the set list: https://bit.ly/3QrmhVW But it won’t come close to giving you an inkling of the experience.

The Music Hall was not sold out, word was not out, I was what they call in tech an “early adopter.” But I was not prepared for the opening of the show.

The strobes started to flash, “Ode to Joy” from “A Clockwork Orange” started to play over the speakers and Bowie and the Spiders from Mars took the stage and began to play. It was almost as dramatic as that Apple TV commercial Steve Jobs dropped on us in 1984. It was completely unexpected. It referenced a cultural landmark. That’s right, the hit movies back then weren’t fantastical cartoons but brain twisters.

The band came out blasting. 

And that suit that looked green on the cover of “Ziggy Stardust”? Turned out it was silver.

I mean my jaw dropped, everybody was shocked.

And when the band finished their set with “Suffragette City” the audience clapped and clapped for an encore, and eventually Bowie and the band returned.

Although this time the house lights were up. There were no effects. And we’d come right down front, like I said the gig was not sold out, not close, and Bowie spreads his legs, plants his feet and starts singing “Around and Around.” You know, the Chuck Berry song which opened the Rolling Stones’ album “12×5.”

But Bowie’s performance had more intensity, more guts, than either of the famous renditions. Bowie was showing his roots, linking Ziggy Stardust to the beginnings of rock and roll, winking at us, telling us he didn’t just drop out of the sky fully-formed, he had history. We were on an adventure together, and at this point the deal was sealed, you could never get off the train, it’s why I kept buying every single Bowie album thereafter. 

You see Ziggy played guitar…

Mr. Grand Funk Railroad. Need I say more?

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mark-farner/id1316200737?i=1000566622187

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9ff4fb19-54d4-41ae-ae7a-8a6f8d3dafa8/episodes/ea0dd616-0347-48af-bc89-a9403febe7d6/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast-mark-farner

https://www.stitcher.com/show/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast/episode/mark-farner-204120667

Stream free in the U.S.: https://to.pbs.org/3QrNJTi

He’s completely internalized.

Brian Wilson has been on an endless victory lap since 1976. First with his participation in “15 Big Ones” and its attendant publicity of Brian being back, then in 1988 with his solo debut, then Don Was’s excellent film “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” in 1995 and then with the release of “Smile” in 2004. Every time they say what a genius he is, what his music means to us, how can we forget you if you never go away?

I’ve gone on record many times that I moved to California because of the Beach Boys. There had to be a better life out there, and I must tell you Southern California was and still is, it’s just that fifty-odd years ago the world was not connected the way it is now, California was three hours behind and it might as well have been an island in the Pacific. We knew that all the movies and TV were made there, but media kept telling us thinking people, all the business that counts, was in New York. They’re still saying that. But in the eighties Silicon Valley raised its head and has never ducked since and people read more books per capita in California than they do in New York. But today California is pilloried by outsiders, whereas previously it was a dream.

People weren’t even skateboarding in the rest of the country, that came from Jan & Dean and the rest of the SoCal players. And then in the mid-seventies urethane wheels came along, and skateboarding spread like wildfire from California eastward. But it all started in California, Southern California, where it hardly rains and you live an outdoors lifestyle 

So what we’ve got here is a bunch of talking heads telling us about Brian’s music. Well, first and foremost Mike Love and others wrote most of the lyrics. But truly, I don’t care what these people have to say, never mind Nick Jonas for Generation Z and Jim James for Generation X. It’s like the talking heads were picked based on demographics.

As for Springsteen? Great to know he’s a Brian Wilson fan, and he does talk about the joy in the music, but other than that…you see Bruce can’t do what Brian can, and that’s the most interesting part.

If you live in Southern California, you’ve encountered Brian Wilson. He’s not hiding, he’s around. It’s well-known that he eats regularly at the deli atop Beverly Glen.

But this wasn’t always the case.

The first time I encountered him was in the lobby of a movie theatre in Westwood in 1978. He was wearing a jacket with his name embroidered on the front. And I went up to him and testified, he did not say anything back.

About ten or fifteen years ago I went to this BMI awards dinner and he was seated at my table. He kept his head upon it almost the entire time, even during dinner. He ultimately got up and got his award and went home.

Since then I’ve talked to him on his bus, but I can’t say I connected with him. I don’t think anybody can truly connect with Brian Wilson. But what this movie, “Long Promised Road,” tells us is Brian is still there, he’s just locked up inside.

So they’re driving down to Hawthorne to go see the homestead. Dedicated fans know it’s been torn down. And Brian asks to hear “It’s OK.,” from the aforementioned “15 Big Ones,” which was mostly covers, truly a cash-in, the originals LP didn’t come out until the next year, “Love You,” where Brian had greater participation and the results sounded whacked and unfinished and he was shunted into the background once again. You see Brian Wilson was the band’s meal ticket. He’s still many people’s meal ticket. Not that he seems to be worried about that. He seems oblivious to most of the matters of everyday life.

Now if you go on Wikipedia you’ll learn that “It’s OK” went to #29 on the singles chart, but in ’76 everybody was listening to FM and #29 means the label used pressure to get it played in the hinterlands, because it didn’t penetrate major markets, I’ve never ever heard “It’s OK.” on the radio. But it’s a complete return to form, it’s got the summer sunniness that drew me to SoCal, never mind infected the rest of the world.

Brian knows what to listen to.

But when they pull up in front of his own home, where there is now a monument, Brian doesn’t want to get out of the car, BECAUSE IT HURTS TOO MUCH!

Great artists feel deeply. Much more than the average person. And they channel this in their work and it’s what the hoi polloi can relate to, especially since it’s illegal to talk about these feelings in regular life, the artist does it for them. How many artists are doing this today? I can’t think of one, then again, they’re truly not ARTISTS!

So next they drive by the first house he lived in with Marilyn and Brian says he wrote “California Girls, “Help Me Rhonda” and “She’s Not the Little Girl I Once Knew” there. He knows everything, the year…

And the next house on Laurel Way, that’s where he wrote “Pet Sounds” and “Good Vibrations.”

It’s utterly amazing. It’s like the movie of his life is still in color and accessible to Brian. The years, the studios, the songs, he seems completely checked out and then whoa, he knows every last detail, he blows your mind.

You see Brian can’t tell a story. You know, you ask the average person a few questions and they start to roll, especially when they know you’re interested, they start waxing rhapsodic, telling you details you’re not even interested in. Brian gives one word and one sentence answers. And you realize this must be the best they’ve got, because if they had anything better, they’d have used it.

And Brian resides in his own world. He never heard “Pacific Ocean Blue.” And is shocked to learn Jack Rieley died. Me, just a fan, I own Dennis Wilson’s album, and the fact that Jack died certainly flew on my radar. And ultimately Jack was seen as a charlatan, singing on an album? But Brian can’t say a negative word about almost anybody. Except maybe Eugene Landy. Then again, when peppered, he starts talking about some good stuff that came out of that nine year “relationship.”

Do you know many celebrities? Almost all of them are acutely aware of their environment. Paparazzi. Quotes. Brian Wilson doesn’t live in that world and doesn’t care.

Do you know any genius musicians? Well, I do. And just about all of them are maladjusted. They can do this one thing, but there’s a gulf between them and the rest of the public.

Brian talks about Dennis being so popular with the ladies, but says he’s too shy. Bottom line, Brian was using his music to connect with people, it was the only way he could do it, and once it stopped working…he retreated.

Yes, Brian Wilson is inherently lonely. Even though he says he’s doing well, even, and talks about others being lonely. That’s his default.

And if you’ve seen Brian live… It’s kind of embarrassing. He’s like a deer in the headlights. He sits at a piano he doesn’t play and then the rest of the band covers for his vocals.

But then he’s in the studio in this movie and sits down at the piano and can play no problem. Then he starts arranging the song, telling people how to play, when to play. This all comes naturally to Brian Wilson, but it doesn’t even come naturally to many hit artists!

Don Was says he can’t do what Brian Wilson does, I believe he’s too self-effacing, but when he isolates the track so you can hear a banjo in “God Only Knows”…I never noticed there was a banjo there. What was Brian thinking? A banjo isn’t as bad as an accordion, but most rock musicians don’t want to go anywhere near one.

And in truth the window of success is very brief for most of these legendary musicians. If you live through them, they seem endless. But for Brian and the Beach Boys, in reality it was less than ten years, arguably even less than that. Now in truth, once these damaged people realize that becoming a great success, demonstrating their talent, doesn’t make their life whole, they can’t do it anymore. Also, popular music goes through phases, the music you play is now out of favor. But when Brian works with Joe Thomas he can sometimes get back to where he once belonged.

Brian’s on his own pursuit.

And it’s like he’s locked in the sixties, he uses the word “groovy,” other affectations from his youth that nobody uses today.

So in truth I don’t think this movie will do anything for Brian Wilson’s legacy. We know the Beatles are forever, but we can’t say the same thing about almost any other act from the rock era, not even the Beach Boys. The kids of the boomers know the Beach Boys hits, but the Beatles’ songs were inherently universal, whereas with the Beach Boys music you had to buy into the whole ethos, the Southern California breezy fun. I get around? Kids today turn 16 and don’t even get their driver’s license. Hot rods? Summer? Kids today go back to school in August! Yes, a lot of what the Beach Boys purveyed was of a time lyrically, if not musically.

Of course there are exceptions, like “Good Vibrations.” But where does a song like that even exist today? And “‘Til I Die,” one of the most beautiful records ever made? I didn’t think anybody else was even aware of it when it was featured in the Don Was movie, never mind this production.

And, it’s the music that will determine whether Brian Wilson will remain in the public consciousness. Movies like this really won’t help, like I said, he’s been on an endless victory lap, for the last 45 years!

But the magic is still there, if you know those songs, especially if you grew up with them, when they were de rigueur, just another song on the hit parade, before the formula was lost.

So you want to watch this film to see Brian talk. To watch tears come to his eyes. To see him get excited about his music. That’s where you can see the genius, the talking heads don’t add much.

Brian attributes his emotional downfall to a bad acid trip. Then again, schizophrenia doesn’t usually rear its head until you get older, your twenties, when Brian had success and episodes.

But even if he was totally normal…he wouldn’t be.

Try talking music with some of these geniuses. They can’t do it! They can write it, they can feel it, but they can’t articulate it, and Brian is no different. It’s not that he refrains from sharing secrets, he doesn’t even know they’re secrets, they’re normal for him, but we can only sit outside and marvel.

You can work for 10,000 hours and not be Brian Wilson. Genius is not a skill, not something you can achieve, it’s something you’re born with, that you build upon.

Brian was inherently isolated, anybody who’s been constantly berated by their parent ultimately is. Then again, some get over it, whereas Brian has just gone deeper into himself.

Not that I can truly define genius. All I know is when I hear that intro to “California Girls” my heart melts and everything is all right with the world. No other song had an extended intro like that before, it carried me not only through the summer of ’65, but ever since. You usually burn out on songs, you play them for a week straight and can never listen to them again. I still will push the button on “Whole Lotta Love,” I bought “Led Zeppelin II” the day it came out and played that album incessantly. And soon thereafter, the rest of the public, the average Joes, caught on and that’s all you heard. But “California Girls”? An even bigger hit? That’s never a button-pusher, that’s my life!

Well, not really. But “California Girls” evidences hope. Makes you believe there’s a more beautiful world out there, and if this group can sing about it, maybe you can get there too, bite off a chunk of the good stuff.

And in truth nobody’s life is constantly an upper. But a great track can make your life work. Not any track. Certain tracks are transcendent. Not the ones they make today, that’s commerce by committee. Brian Wilson was a dictator, and when they undercut him, when Capitol put out a greatest hits album mere months after the failure of “Pet Sounds,” he was demoralized. You may be able to pick yourself up by your bootstraps, but someone who feels this much is always on a tightrope, walking a thin line, needing that approval to keep going.

Forget what I say, just watch Brian in the car in this movie. See him be uncomfortable, scared, seem completely out of it but then be able to answer a question directly. You don’t know people like this, they only made one, and by translating his feelings into music he impacted the entire world.

That’s Brian Wilson.