I really don't wanna lose the blog, but I can't sustain it without something constant to write about. I'm not gonna write about politics or violence (though I'm really sorry to see what's happening in your state, Elizabeth). I may eventually return to movies, though I still haven't watched one for almost six weeks now. The events of mid-July really knocked the stuffing out of me. Things seem okay now, at least I hope they are, but anyway the blog was on a even keel for more than seven years, and if you count Myspace and Delphi, I've basically been writing - more or less on a daily basis - for twenty years. And I've always found something to write about. The problem these days is that I have basically no life outside my job. I don't even get to sing in church anymore. I know I'm not alone in my troubles and I don't mean to complain; this horrible year has affected everyone, but because I became a choir singer out of the blue and purely by chance - and got good at it - it has been hard to watch it vanish after five years of singing every Sunday morning, and then getting the opportunity to sing solo tenor last Christmas for our holiday service. That was awesome, and I practiced and practiced for it, singing in the car in the weeks preceding so I would sound good when the time came.
Music has always been the thing that got me through the worst times in my life, and I think that may be true for many folks, so for now I guess I'll try writing about music. I'm reading this biography of John Entwistle, and I'm blown away by how some of these rock stars have lived their lives. I must preface this to say that I never thought The Who were all that great. I know many folks would disagree, but that's my take. While it is true that "Quadrophenia" is one of the greatest albums of all time, and while "Who's Next" is iconic in an overplayed, Led Zeppelin 4 kind of way, I am of the opinion that their reputation far outweighs their actual output. I don't find "Tommy" to be all that brilliant, outside the concept, and beyond those three albums they're a hit and miss singles band. Their real power was as a live act, and though I've never seen them in concert I have no doubt they were top of the heap in that respect, in their heyday. But man, were they ever a bunch of messed up dudes, at least according to Paul Rees, the author of "The Ox".
Entwistle lived like a king and spent his money as fast as he earned it. But his story is ultimately a sad one, at least to me. His life was one long, neverending party, and then he died at age 57 from years of abuse. No doubt he lived a big life, a huge one in fact, but the way it's portrayed in the book it seems a bit empty. He was an incredible musician, however, and for that he shall be forever remembered.
This leads me to remember the very first time I ever went to a rock club (and I'm just rambling here, trying to keep the blog alive. I don't have any actual point to make). It was November 1974, and Camel were playing The Whisky. I was 14 and a half, and had been to four concerts prior to that - California Jam, ELO, Rick Wakeman and Golden Earring. But this was gonna be my first time in a club, and a legendary one at that. Only five years earlier, Led Zeppelin played there as a young band. So did Yes, and a hundred other bands, including the legendary acts from the 60s like The Doors, who were the house band at The Whisky in '66.
Ray Manzerek, the Door's keyboardist, was the opening act for Camel that night. Grimsley and I went, his landlord drove us down there. Grim was 21, he's 67 now. While Manzarek was playing, Keith Moon came onstage to sit in on drums for a song or two. He was drunk, and playing sloppy, and a guy standing next to Grim and I was heckling him in a good natured way. "You're flat, Keith"! Grim pointed out that the guy was Bruce Johnston from The Beach Boys, who were one of Moon's favorite bands. He loved Surf Music, apparently. But those were bad years for Keith Moon, and he would only live for four more.
After Camel played an incredible set, in support of their "Mirage" album (a progressive rock masterpiece), Grim motioned to me to follow him, and we went up the stairs to the second floor of The Whisky, to where the dressing rooms are. I barely had time to wonder "is this okay"?, when there stood Peter Bardens in front of us. He was the keyboard wizard from Camel, one half of their musical genius composing team. Grim immediately affected a German accent and introduced himself. "You vere in-credible tonight"!, he said to Bardens, who looked amused. I think he asked Grim what part of Germany he came from. I was speechless, because Peter Bardens was one of my musical heroes, and here he was, standing right next to me. As it turns out, he was the first rock star I ever met, if you don't count me standing next to Bruce Johnston, and if you don't count that Peter Bardens wasn't really a "rock star" (quote unquote), but a brilliant musician in a great rock band. I hate to say it, but he died too at age 57, just like John Entwisle, and like Entwistle, he was born in 1944 and died in 2002. And like Entwistle, he called Los Angeles home toward the end.
After we talked to Peter Bardens, Grim and I walked into the dressing room, and there stood Keith Moon. I remember there were several people who wanted his attention, but because Grimsley is Grimsley (and he was just Dave back then), he was always able to skew anyone's attention his way. And so, suddenly Keith Moon was looking at Grim. Grim saw that one guy in the room had a camera, and asked him to take a picture of him and Keith. Grim then grabbed Keith Moon in a hug with one arm, and with his other hand he pinched Keith's cheeks together as a "funny" gesture. I will always remember what Keith Moon said before the picture was snapped.
He said : "I feel like a piece of meat".
Grim had manhandled him, not out of mean-spiritedness, but just in the overzealous way of a fan who is overly starstruck.
Grim still has that photo. Keith Moon was only 28 when it was taken, but he looks 40.
I left that night thinking, "wow!.......I met Keith Moon, I met Peter Bardens, I saw the guy from the Beach Boys and I saw Camel"!
What holds up after all these years is the music. The memories hold up too, of course, and memories freakin' rock, but it's a shame that the rock n' roll lifestyle wound up killing so many musicians. I know that's an obvious statement and a cliche, but that's my story for tonight, just to keep the blog alive.
I remember when "The Who By Numbers" came out in 1975. I'd been hanging around College Records for a couple of years by then, and when one of the guys put it on the turntable, I was decidedly unimpressed. The song "Squeezebox" sounded wimpy compared to the majesty of the music on "Quadrophenia", and my review, instantly stated, was "The Who go country".
So yeah, I'm not one of the folks who put The Who up there with The Beatles (not by a million miles), nor even as one of the greatest bands of all time. But that's just me, and I suppose that just by their musical ferocity and the few good or great albums they did make, they were very great indeed, in their own way.
But Camel weren't too shabby either, and they had some of the greatest albums ever made, so it's important to keep them in mind too.
See you tomorrow. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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