In writing about my time living in Oregon the first time around from 1970-1972, I have written a bit about The Chi-Lites. It is with sorrow that the news has begun to leak out that the great lead vocalist who gave voice to the great inspirational musical ideas that the late Eugene Record gave us has passed away. His name was Robert "Squirrel" Lester.
I have mentioned this before. It bears repeating again. but it is my firm belief that one of the greatest outro lines I've ever heard in a song is the one during the last bit of fadeout in the great single, "Oh Girl" where Lester intones with all heart-felt anguish "Have you ever seen such a helpless man?/ Oooh no."
It was Lester's voice which gave me the full o.k. to believe that it was o.k. for a guy to show his vulnerable side. This was an important element that was added to early '70s Soul music. It wasn't always the stereotype of bravado and machismo.
I think of the great 3 singles I grew up on here in Eugene (Have You Seen Her?", "Oh Girl" & "The Coldest Days of My Life") and I think to myself of how utterly important this element of thinking, through music, was to my early development as a person.
When you take a musical genius like Eugene Record and combine it with the sincerity of the vocals of a Robert Lester, it was inevitable that you would achieve musical immortality. I wrote over on a Rolling Stones webboard just a short while ago that Mick Jagger has mentioned every once i a super great while that he loved the music of The Chi-Lites. I hope that people like himself and others who are of his musical strata will take the time out over the next few days to dig out their Chi-Lites records and CD's and recall the greatness of Lester and the Chi-Lites. They all shared company together on the charts back in 1971 and 1972 and we were all made the better for it. I just read s hort while ago that there is apparently only one member left of the original Chi-Lites left. This is just so sad. But hey, just think of how great it's going to be to hear them again in the enxt life. I want to see tons of gigs of theirs and back in their prime once again.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
1970-1972 Eugene: More To Recall
Whatever happened to Robbie Pietros (I think that's how his last name was spelled-perhaps with a u instead of the o towards the end)? Do any of you St. Paul people remember him? He was a really nice kid. He and I got to know each other during 3rd and 4th Grade. I think there are always kids like a Robbie in all our lives who pass through and then go on to obscurity and are lost to time. I have no idea if he's alive or dead. I have no idea if he's still in Oregon or if he's somewhere far off.
What I do remember about him is that he alwas talked to me like I was an equal. He never teased me. He just spoke like a regular guy. When you asked him a question, he would answer it. He used to ask me questions and I always enjoyed telling him whatever he wanted to know. I remember that he used to wear his Cub Scout uniform top to school fairly frequently in lieu of when he didn't have a regular shirt to wear for the day. I kind of recall that he came from a broken home in regards that his Mom and Dad were either separated or divorced. They were also living in a rental of some kind. I can't recall if they were living in a house or an apartment. He had a sister that he would mention. He rarely spoke much about his Dad (with whom he was living with). Now, I don't know if you recall this or not, but Robbie had a birth deformity on his hand that he had to deal with and that we spoke about. We used to discuss how people used to react to noticing it or not. He was just such a cool kid. For his age, he was very real. On one hand, he had (I think) two fingers that were essentially fused together which never grew out. They were the middle fingers on that hand. But the thing of it was that he used his other perfectly normal hand to draw. He loved to draw things. Amazingly enough, I am the proud owner of one of the drawings he made for me as a surprise. He drew me a couple of characters out of one of his Dr. Seuss books he had that he was very fond of. I have kept it stored away all of these years. Every couple of years or so, I'll dig it out and look at it and smile while I admire that I had a friend like that who would share something like that with me. I really hope he's doing o.k.
In the Summer of '72, there took place a sort of transition period that I did not even realize was taking place and it stood out to me, in hindsight, as a preparation for my return to Santa Clara. I did not have much of an idea as to how serious my Dad was being convinced by his brother and sisters to come back home in order to keep the peace among themselves. I didn't realize that my vacation was actually my Dad's serious house-hunting venture for a move back. I knew he was doing it, but it didn't sink in that it was actually going to happen.
This trip was very memorable for me. Dad took me to my first Oakland A's game. This was the Summer where the A's put everything together to make their run twoards the first of their 3 straight MLB championships. We went to see the Chicago White Sox play the A's. What a game! We never got to see the end of the game. The game went into extra innings and lasted so long that the game had to be suspended because it went into the curfew that the American League or the City of Oakland had in place. The game was continued the next day. I nearly got nailed by a foul ball at that game. What I'll never forget was seeing the sight of the famous (or infamous-depending on your view of him) Dick Allen, the first baseman of the White Sox playing tic-tac-toe on the dirt in between pitches and batters during the game. He was notorious for doing this. He was also a great player as well. I came away from my first game at the Oakland Coliseum very impressed. My interest in baseball had grown more since those early Giant games at Buck Shaw Stadium in Santa Clara and the double-header I saw at Candlestick. It helped a lot that the Ems games my Dad had been taking me to had been really holding my interest. I can still remember the couple of bomb scares at Civic Stadium I lived through as well as the drunk people in the stands really getting into the games. I had no idea during that Summer of '72 that I was to visit the Oakland Coliseum many more times when I moved back down there and how singnificent it was going to be to me.
Another thing which happened to me when I was down there during that trip was that I discovered Bob Wilkins and his Creature Features movie show. Now, I got hooked on horror movies when I lived in Eugene. But I really got hooked on Bob Wilkins because he was just too damned cool. I mean, this guy became a legend for us kids down in the Bay Area. Plus, he was the weird Uncle you always wanted to have. He knew so much about the movies and he passed along the information to you so that you could learn and contextualize what you were watching. Plus, he always smoked these nice big fat stogies while doing his presentations. And wouldn't you know it? I caught him on an especially cool night. In the little den area next to my late Aunt Mary's dining table where people used to eat, I sat and watched the original Bela Lugosi Universal Horror Film of Dracula. My interest during that late Saturday night shot up like a rocket because I knew that this guy just absolutely wiped the floor clean of the hostess who did the horror movie show here in Eugene. Bob Wilkins was just the coolest, man.
The other big thing from this trip is that I got to visit my first friend, Tom R. again at his new house over on Stevenson. He had a new baby brother. The addition forced them to sell their house on Franklin Street. Anyway, we reconnected. We got really tight as good buddies again. I recall when we were driving around in his Mom's VW Bug (Nancy R.), she ahd the radio on and I really caught on to a couple of tunes which made me immeditaly identify them with California instead of just Oregon. I recall very specifically being really in tune with Bill Withers-"Lean On Me" and Rick Nelson & the Stone Canyon Band-"Garden Party". By the way, I should mention that that A's game I went to with my Dad always makes me think of "Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass because I recall hearing it while Dad and I were driving around.
It was during this trip as well that I heard two other songs which I would identify only with California. This was the Summer when "Burnin' Love" from Elvis Presley and "Come Together" from The Who made a huge impression on me. Along with the other songs I have mentioned, there was a fullness to the music I was hearing which was making everything I was listening to a constant soundtrack to my present life. And the songs were so full of life. They were breathing so full of healthly vitality.
When it came time that I had to leave Tommy's house. My parents really took notice that I was really sad to leave. I have a funny feeling that little bit that they observed helped to put the icing on the cake for my Dad as far as deciding to go ahead with the purchase of the Camino Drive house that was to become my golden house.
And then I went back home to Eugene and thinking I was going to start 5th Grade at St. Paul. I got back into the groove that I was used to when I got back home. But one of the songs that I heard towards the end of that Summer was to foreshadow, in a weird way, what was to come. After Elton John had released the "Rocket Man" single from what would be the Honky Chateau album, he followed it up with "Honky Cat".
To quote a few lyrics, "Get back Honky cat/better get back to the woods/Well, I quit those days and my redneck ways/Oh hoo hoo hoo ow change is gonna do me good"
-"They said Stay at home. Boy you gotta tend the farm/ Living in the city boy is gonna break your heart/But how can you stay when your heart says no a-ha/How can you stop when your feet say go"
And so, I really believe the template was set. I did have to undergo some changes back in Eugene that I was sad to have to let go of. For starters, we sold the big Lorane ranch that Summer as well. For some strange reason, I had a big sentimental attachment to the two tractors we had on the ranch. We had a huge green John Deere and one grey Ford. When we sold the ranch, I got choked up watching my Dad ride them for the last time.
It's very fuzzy as to when I got the announcement from my Mom and Dad. But I got it. Steve, we're moving back to Santa Clara and you are going back to St. Clare's. Wow! When I got the announcement, we were at a point in the Summer when we started getting a heat wave that apparently lasted quite a while. So much so that it went to the point beyond when I left.
And then the day arrived. Mom and Dad hauled me off to the then Mahlon Sweet airport. I got a ticket to fly a big yellow bird called Hughes Airwest. My brother Mike flew with me. I saw him and I knew he was really bummed out because he was leaving the hunting and fishing of Oregon. He also really liked our next door neighbor (the late Carl Lay) at lot.
When I left, I did not have any realization of the history I was skirting or the enormity of what I was to encounter once I got off the plane. Here's the deal. When I left Eugene, there were a couple of singles and songs being played by the KEED guys by somebody and a band he was in that I was openminded enough to like as a kid. Little did I know that this band was going to be playing 2 shows in Veneta that were to be legendary right after I left to head back to Santa Clara to stay at my late Uncle Matt and Auntie Ann's house on Santa Clara Street. On two sweltering days in late August, Jerry Garcia and The Grateful Dead rolled in to play the 2 Creamery Benefit shows for Ken Kesey where the temperatures soared to the 100 degree mark. I was exposed to "Truckin'" and "Casey Jones" and I liked them.
Instead of being exposed to the big news of The Grateful Dead, I was to fly into to be exposed to KFRC San Francisco (said city, my lovely great one, was also home to The Grateful Dead) while down in Los Angeles, at almost literally the same time, an event was taking place that I would not hear about until many years later which would , by virtue of where I was, have more influence on me that The Grateful Dead. An event called Wattstax took place at the Memorial Coliseum. It was where a ton of Soul Acts, along with the Reverend Jesse Jackson held their version of Woodstock. You see people, it was meant to be that Soul Music was to continue to play a huge role in my life. There would be room for The Grateful Dead later on in my life. But it would come at a much later date and through a very long and circuitous route which would become a battle of sorts which I will explain at some point later in very thorough detail.
So, ladies and Gentleman. Armed with only the belongings in my suitcase and a transitor radio, I was to begin the period of my life that I refer to as the greatest I've ever lived through. The Golden period of the Fall of 1972 to the Fall of 1974 was to descend upon me. The true essence of who I am today was to begin shaping me when I stepped off that yellow bird onto the tarmac of San Jose airport.
I will finish off my discussion of the music I listened to during the '70-'72 Eugene period over thenext few posts before I dive into the '72-'74 period. I will likely post a few other things as well before I dive into it.
What I do remember about him is that he alwas talked to me like I was an equal. He never teased me. He just spoke like a regular guy. When you asked him a question, he would answer it. He used to ask me questions and I always enjoyed telling him whatever he wanted to know. I remember that he used to wear his Cub Scout uniform top to school fairly frequently in lieu of when he didn't have a regular shirt to wear for the day. I kind of recall that he came from a broken home in regards that his Mom and Dad were either separated or divorced. They were also living in a rental of some kind. I can't recall if they were living in a house or an apartment. He had a sister that he would mention. He rarely spoke much about his Dad (with whom he was living with). Now, I don't know if you recall this or not, but Robbie had a birth deformity on his hand that he had to deal with and that we spoke about. We used to discuss how people used to react to noticing it or not. He was just such a cool kid. For his age, he was very real. On one hand, he had (I think) two fingers that were essentially fused together which never grew out. They were the middle fingers on that hand. But the thing of it was that he used his other perfectly normal hand to draw. He loved to draw things. Amazingly enough, I am the proud owner of one of the drawings he made for me as a surprise. He drew me a couple of characters out of one of his Dr. Seuss books he had that he was very fond of. I have kept it stored away all of these years. Every couple of years or so, I'll dig it out and look at it and smile while I admire that I had a friend like that who would share something like that with me. I really hope he's doing o.k.
In the Summer of '72, there took place a sort of transition period that I did not even realize was taking place and it stood out to me, in hindsight, as a preparation for my return to Santa Clara. I did not have much of an idea as to how serious my Dad was being convinced by his brother and sisters to come back home in order to keep the peace among themselves. I didn't realize that my vacation was actually my Dad's serious house-hunting venture for a move back. I knew he was doing it, but it didn't sink in that it was actually going to happen.
This trip was very memorable for me. Dad took me to my first Oakland A's game. This was the Summer where the A's put everything together to make their run twoards the first of their 3 straight MLB championships. We went to see the Chicago White Sox play the A's. What a game! We never got to see the end of the game. The game went into extra innings and lasted so long that the game had to be suspended because it went into the curfew that the American League or the City of Oakland had in place. The game was continued the next day. I nearly got nailed by a foul ball at that game. What I'll never forget was seeing the sight of the famous (or infamous-depending on your view of him) Dick Allen, the first baseman of the White Sox playing tic-tac-toe on the dirt in between pitches and batters during the game. He was notorious for doing this. He was also a great player as well. I came away from my first game at the Oakland Coliseum very impressed. My interest in baseball had grown more since those early Giant games at Buck Shaw Stadium in Santa Clara and the double-header I saw at Candlestick. It helped a lot that the Ems games my Dad had been taking me to had been really holding my interest. I can still remember the couple of bomb scares at Civic Stadium I lived through as well as the drunk people in the stands really getting into the games. I had no idea during that Summer of '72 that I was to visit the Oakland Coliseum many more times when I moved back down there and how singnificent it was going to be to me.
Another thing which happened to me when I was down there during that trip was that I discovered Bob Wilkins and his Creature Features movie show. Now, I got hooked on horror movies when I lived in Eugene. But I really got hooked on Bob Wilkins because he was just too damned cool. I mean, this guy became a legend for us kids down in the Bay Area. Plus, he was the weird Uncle you always wanted to have. He knew so much about the movies and he passed along the information to you so that you could learn and contextualize what you were watching. Plus, he always smoked these nice big fat stogies while doing his presentations. And wouldn't you know it? I caught him on an especially cool night. In the little den area next to my late Aunt Mary's dining table where people used to eat, I sat and watched the original Bela Lugosi Universal Horror Film of Dracula. My interest during that late Saturday night shot up like a rocket because I knew that this guy just absolutely wiped the floor clean of the hostess who did the horror movie show here in Eugene. Bob Wilkins was just the coolest, man.
The other big thing from this trip is that I got to visit my first friend, Tom R. again at his new house over on Stevenson. He had a new baby brother. The addition forced them to sell their house on Franklin Street. Anyway, we reconnected. We got really tight as good buddies again. I recall when we were driving around in his Mom's VW Bug (Nancy R.), she ahd the radio on and I really caught on to a couple of tunes which made me immeditaly identify them with California instead of just Oregon. I recall very specifically being really in tune with Bill Withers-"Lean On Me" and Rick Nelson & the Stone Canyon Band-"Garden Party". By the way, I should mention that that A's game I went to with my Dad always makes me think of "Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass because I recall hearing it while Dad and I were driving around.
It was during this trip as well that I heard two other songs which I would identify only with California. This was the Summer when "Burnin' Love" from Elvis Presley and "Come Together" from The Who made a huge impression on me. Along with the other songs I have mentioned, there was a fullness to the music I was hearing which was making everything I was listening to a constant soundtrack to my present life. And the songs were so full of life. They were breathing so full of healthly vitality.
When it came time that I had to leave Tommy's house. My parents really took notice that I was really sad to leave. I have a funny feeling that little bit that they observed helped to put the icing on the cake for my Dad as far as deciding to go ahead with the purchase of the Camino Drive house that was to become my golden house.
And then I went back home to Eugene and thinking I was going to start 5th Grade at St. Paul. I got back into the groove that I was used to when I got back home. But one of the songs that I heard towards the end of that Summer was to foreshadow, in a weird way, what was to come. After Elton John had released the "Rocket Man" single from what would be the Honky Chateau album, he followed it up with "Honky Cat".
To quote a few lyrics, "Get back Honky cat/better get back to the woods/Well, I quit those days and my redneck ways/Oh hoo hoo hoo ow change is gonna do me good"
-"They said Stay at home. Boy you gotta tend the farm/ Living in the city boy is gonna break your heart/But how can you stay when your heart says no a-ha/How can you stop when your feet say go"
And so, I really believe the template was set. I did have to undergo some changes back in Eugene that I was sad to have to let go of. For starters, we sold the big Lorane ranch that Summer as well. For some strange reason, I had a big sentimental attachment to the two tractors we had on the ranch. We had a huge green John Deere and one grey Ford. When we sold the ranch, I got choked up watching my Dad ride them for the last time.
It's very fuzzy as to when I got the announcement from my Mom and Dad. But I got it. Steve, we're moving back to Santa Clara and you are going back to St. Clare's. Wow! When I got the announcement, we were at a point in the Summer when we started getting a heat wave that apparently lasted quite a while. So much so that it went to the point beyond when I left.
And then the day arrived. Mom and Dad hauled me off to the then Mahlon Sweet airport. I got a ticket to fly a big yellow bird called Hughes Airwest. My brother Mike flew with me. I saw him and I knew he was really bummed out because he was leaving the hunting and fishing of Oregon. He also really liked our next door neighbor (the late Carl Lay) at lot.
When I left, I did not have any realization of the history I was skirting or the enormity of what I was to encounter once I got off the plane. Here's the deal. When I left Eugene, there were a couple of singles and songs being played by the KEED guys by somebody and a band he was in that I was openminded enough to like as a kid. Little did I know that this band was going to be playing 2 shows in Veneta that were to be legendary right after I left to head back to Santa Clara to stay at my late Uncle Matt and Auntie Ann's house on Santa Clara Street. On two sweltering days in late August, Jerry Garcia and The Grateful Dead rolled in to play the 2 Creamery Benefit shows for Ken Kesey where the temperatures soared to the 100 degree mark. I was exposed to "Truckin'" and "Casey Jones" and I liked them.
Instead of being exposed to the big news of The Grateful Dead, I was to fly into to be exposed to KFRC San Francisco (said city, my lovely great one, was also home to The Grateful Dead) while down in Los Angeles, at almost literally the same time, an event was taking place that I would not hear about until many years later which would , by virtue of where I was, have more influence on me that The Grateful Dead. An event called Wattstax took place at the Memorial Coliseum. It was where a ton of Soul Acts, along with the Reverend Jesse Jackson held their version of Woodstock. You see people, it was meant to be that Soul Music was to continue to play a huge role in my life. There would be room for The Grateful Dead later on in my life. But it would come at a much later date and through a very long and circuitous route which would become a battle of sorts which I will explain at some point later in very thorough detail.
So, ladies and Gentleman. Armed with only the belongings in my suitcase and a transitor radio, I was to begin the period of my life that I refer to as the greatest I've ever lived through. The Golden period of the Fall of 1972 to the Fall of 1974 was to descend upon me. The true essence of who I am today was to begin shaping me when I stepped off that yellow bird onto the tarmac of San Jose airport.
I will finish off my discussion of the music I listened to during the '70-'72 Eugene period over thenext few posts before I dive into the '72-'74 period. I will likely post a few other things as well before I dive into it.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
January 17-Happy Birthday, Mick Taylor
I just wanted to take a spell and send out my best wishes to Mick Taylor on his birthday. I hope he does not have any health issues he has to deal with this year. I hope that he decides to make a very deep plunge into leading a more healthy lifestyle. I also hope that he is lucky enough to have management ensure that he does not do long brutal stretches of one-nighters like he did when I saw him here in Eugene back in 2001. I checked his official website after I saw him and it was truely frightening to see that number of one-nighters in a row he was doing. On top of it, he was traveling by car to get to those gigs here in the U.S. for at least a good chunk of them. This is a guy who deserves better than that.
You are loved and the great majority of fans have your best interests at heart. I hope I get to see you again and that I get the chance to have a substantial talk with you. I always keep you in my prayers and hope that you will stay safe. Happy Birthday, Mick. Here's to hoping that you have many more and that Mick and Keith decide to throw some money your way.
Steve
You are loved and the great majority of fans have your best interests at heart. I hope I get to see you again and that I get the chance to have a substantial talk with you. I always keep you in my prayers and hope that you will stay safe. Happy Birthday, Mick. Here's to hoping that you have many more and that Mick and Keith decide to throw some money your way.
Steve
Thursday, January 14, 2010
In Appreciation: Teddy Pendergrass
It must be stated upfront that I don't consider what I'm about to say here in this appreciation to be the definitive (by any stretch) word or proper dedication to Teddy Pendergrass. There are those of you who have faithfully followed Teddy's career throughout all of his phases as well as what can only be tragically described as the pre-accident career vs. the post-accident career.
My appreciation of Teddy Pendergrass comes from his time when he was a member of Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes. This period covers the years of 1972 through 1974. It is the period before he broke away from Harold Melvin to start his own solo career. It is the period which I lived through that I worship so much. It is also the period from before I made the switch to listening to FM radio as my primary radio listening source for music rather than AM.
You know, there must be a conspiracy by history or by angels that I'm being forced to write about things from the '72-'74 period when I was living back in Santa Clara once again before I feel like I'm properly ready to. I haven't even finished the Eugene '70-'72 period yet. Yet, here I am.
If Teddy Pendergrass had not walked the Earth during his time with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes, I am quite certain that the return to Santa Clara period that I love so dearly would have turned out much differently. His voice was so powerful. His was the voice of Soul music being funneled through by way of Gospel influence. I mean, he was right up there and so upfront. He wasn't to be denied. All of us have been so blessed to have been given the masculine side of great vocal talents like Pendergrass. He was another one of those singers with whom I felt a great affinity for in that it was o.k. to show off your masculinity in expression. Plus, if I ever went to far in thinking that I was going overboard on the whole Soul singer as straong male role model type, I always had somebody like the late Eugene Record of The Chi-Lites to remind me of the vulnerability that could be expressed by males as well.
From that great first album of Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes, there was a song like "I Miss You" to show that there was indeed another side to be shown by the band and by extent Teddy.
For me, as for a huge amount of people around the world, it was when Gamble & Huff decided to release "If You Don't Know Me By Now" that put them on my musical map with a huge splash in the Fall of '72. I desperately needed something to anchor me that Fall because I was in the fearful throes of my dread for our 5th Grade teacher at St. Clare's who ruled our class like a tyrant. Teddy's vocals for the song gave me something I could hold onto and give me a strong-willed sense of consolation based on the sheer vocal force of his delivery.
My Mother had to have sensed something concerning my love of this song when I heard the song riding around in the car with her or when she would hear me listening to and attempting to sing along to it at home on Camino Drive or else it was one of those beautifully coincidental quirks of fate on her part that made her do it. I didn't say a word to her about the song. I never directed anything at her. Yet, Mom came home one fine day and said she had something for me that she picked up over at the record store over at Valley Fair. She got me my first Philadephia International Records single and it was "If You Don't Know Me By Now". For this occasion alone, Mom helped to cement this song into a certain high strata with me. She managed to help careen something along further without her even knowing it.
I would later come to know Teddy and his association with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes through the great single in (I believe) 1973 with "The Love I Lost" and then in 1974 (again I believe) with "Wake Up Everybody". And that voice would stay ever so strong and so sure.
The great thing about great songs is that you don't remember them as just being fantastic songs. They become personalized in your life. I was to meet a woman at some point in either very late 1973 or early 1974 at a time when David G. and I would become friends for a good solid 4 years until the 5th shaky year when things began to fall apart. This woman was to become his Dad's wife (the third if I'm recalling correctly). For some incredibly strange and almost prophetic reason because they would later divorce, I would come to associate this wonderful person with whom I would (in combination) hold in my highest regard, respect and harbor a monumental crush that I've had on her that continues even to this very day to "If You Don't Know Me By Know". The single had passed its chart time by the time I met her and yet it seemed to come out of the air the very first time I met her and went for a ride with his gorgeous blonde Ann Margret named Pam with her very young son in a Lincoln Continental Mk IV that I would identify her with this song and her relationship to Gary. I have told her this. I told her back in the '90s and I think she just kind of shrugged it off because she tries to forget what she went through with Gary. I just don't think she realizes how accurately the song applies to her in the reverse. It is her who should have told him "what good is a love affair/ when you can't see eye to eye".
God! That song was so appropriate to listen to in the late Fall of '72 when the air was colder. It was also so appropriate for that day she and I drove around together from her house with Gary back over to my house on Camino. It was a cold, overcast foggy day. Plus, I would always view that relationship she had with Gary with the same coldness that sometimes seemd to show its face every so often when I would see the cracks in their marriage show throughout the '70s.
This is what I mean. Great music makes you see layers in life that you otherwise might never have noticed. Shit! I was seeing this kind of thing in 5th, 6th and 7th Grade. It became more obvious as I got older too.
To this day, it still amazes me as to how coincidental it was that I made the switch to FM radio in the Summer of '74 when I did and at the very subtle point in music history when a sea-change was about to occur that people were not going to notice right away. This changed happened just as Teddy Pendergrass made the decision to leave Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes to pursue his own solo career as a result of creative differences with the late Harold Melvin. I guess Teddy was fated to have a solo career. His voice was so powerful that people, myself included, would say something like "Hey man! There's Teddy" when a Harold Melvin song would come on. I have to be honest here and say this. I really miss the tension that was apparent in those old Bluenotes recordings. That's what made Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes so great. I didn't follow Teddy into his solo career because of my switch over to FM and my general tuning myself out of the danceable Soul music beginning to turn into what would become as Disco. I would hear Teddy later on and I would pine for the Bluenotes days. I will readily admit to that. This is going to be a terrible analogy, but my feelings towards Teddy Pendergrass are a lot like some cross-sections of fans of Janis Joplin have felt about her over the years. You'll get the people who'll say that Janis was at her best when she was part of a team when she was in Big Brother & the Holding Company. I have to admit, I really think Teddy was at his best when he was with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes and he was a member of a team and winning a championship of sorts as a result. We all now about sports teams who won championships who had members who beat the shit out of each other in the locker room and still managed to win championships (like those Oakland A's teams of the '70s). Now, I don't know if it was quite like that between Harold and Teddy nor to what extent. I suppose only Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff truely know. I would like to think that they are both at peace with each other in all regards now that they have been reunited and that they have some fine plans ahead for the rest of us.
What I am greatly happy for the most for Teddy is that he is now out of his wheelchair. I am also happy that he no longer has colon cancer to go along with being bound to a wheelchair. Do you imagine the terrible ordeal this must have been for him even though he put on a good face? I really hope that he and the late Curtis Mayfield are trading notes on their experiences on having been bound to chairs late in their lives and I hope they are both celebrating thier freedom.
Like Curtis, I hope Teddy knows that he deserves the freedom he has found because he gave all of us fans so much freedom through his expression in music. Walk tall, Teddy. You made all of us walk tall. My God! Even God Himself must be overwhelmed to have both you and Levi Stubb singing in the same room together. Thank you so much for everything, Teddy. We love you.
My appreciation of Teddy Pendergrass comes from his time when he was a member of Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes. This period covers the years of 1972 through 1974. It is the period before he broke away from Harold Melvin to start his own solo career. It is the period which I lived through that I worship so much. It is also the period from before I made the switch to listening to FM radio as my primary radio listening source for music rather than AM.
You know, there must be a conspiracy by history or by angels that I'm being forced to write about things from the '72-'74 period when I was living back in Santa Clara once again before I feel like I'm properly ready to. I haven't even finished the Eugene '70-'72 period yet. Yet, here I am.
If Teddy Pendergrass had not walked the Earth during his time with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes, I am quite certain that the return to Santa Clara period that I love so dearly would have turned out much differently. His voice was so powerful. His was the voice of Soul music being funneled through by way of Gospel influence. I mean, he was right up there and so upfront. He wasn't to be denied. All of us have been so blessed to have been given the masculine side of great vocal talents like Pendergrass. He was another one of those singers with whom I felt a great affinity for in that it was o.k. to show off your masculinity in expression. Plus, if I ever went to far in thinking that I was going overboard on the whole Soul singer as straong male role model type, I always had somebody like the late Eugene Record of The Chi-Lites to remind me of the vulnerability that could be expressed by males as well.
From that great first album of Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes, there was a song like "I Miss You" to show that there was indeed another side to be shown by the band and by extent Teddy.
For me, as for a huge amount of people around the world, it was when Gamble & Huff decided to release "If You Don't Know Me By Now" that put them on my musical map with a huge splash in the Fall of '72. I desperately needed something to anchor me that Fall because I was in the fearful throes of my dread for our 5th Grade teacher at St. Clare's who ruled our class like a tyrant. Teddy's vocals for the song gave me something I could hold onto and give me a strong-willed sense of consolation based on the sheer vocal force of his delivery.
My Mother had to have sensed something concerning my love of this song when I heard the song riding around in the car with her or when she would hear me listening to and attempting to sing along to it at home on Camino Drive or else it was one of those beautifully coincidental quirks of fate on her part that made her do it. I didn't say a word to her about the song. I never directed anything at her. Yet, Mom came home one fine day and said she had something for me that she picked up over at the record store over at Valley Fair. She got me my first Philadephia International Records single and it was "If You Don't Know Me By Now". For this occasion alone, Mom helped to cement this song into a certain high strata with me. She managed to help careen something along further without her even knowing it.
I would later come to know Teddy and his association with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes through the great single in (I believe) 1973 with "The Love I Lost" and then in 1974 (again I believe) with "Wake Up Everybody". And that voice would stay ever so strong and so sure.
The great thing about great songs is that you don't remember them as just being fantastic songs. They become personalized in your life. I was to meet a woman at some point in either very late 1973 or early 1974 at a time when David G. and I would become friends for a good solid 4 years until the 5th shaky year when things began to fall apart. This woman was to become his Dad's wife (the third if I'm recalling correctly). For some incredibly strange and almost prophetic reason because they would later divorce, I would come to associate this wonderful person with whom I would (in combination) hold in my highest regard, respect and harbor a monumental crush that I've had on her that continues even to this very day to "If You Don't Know Me By Know". The single had passed its chart time by the time I met her and yet it seemed to come out of the air the very first time I met her and went for a ride with his gorgeous blonde Ann Margret named Pam with her very young son in a Lincoln Continental Mk IV that I would identify her with this song and her relationship to Gary. I have told her this. I told her back in the '90s and I think she just kind of shrugged it off because she tries to forget what she went through with Gary. I just don't think she realizes how accurately the song applies to her in the reverse. It is her who should have told him "what good is a love affair/ when you can't see eye to eye".
God! That song was so appropriate to listen to in the late Fall of '72 when the air was colder. It was also so appropriate for that day she and I drove around together from her house with Gary back over to my house on Camino. It was a cold, overcast foggy day. Plus, I would always view that relationship she had with Gary with the same coldness that sometimes seemd to show its face every so often when I would see the cracks in their marriage show throughout the '70s.
This is what I mean. Great music makes you see layers in life that you otherwise might never have noticed. Shit! I was seeing this kind of thing in 5th, 6th and 7th Grade. It became more obvious as I got older too.
To this day, it still amazes me as to how coincidental it was that I made the switch to FM radio in the Summer of '74 when I did and at the very subtle point in music history when a sea-change was about to occur that people were not going to notice right away. This changed happened just as Teddy Pendergrass made the decision to leave Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes to pursue his own solo career as a result of creative differences with the late Harold Melvin. I guess Teddy was fated to have a solo career. His voice was so powerful that people, myself included, would say something like "Hey man! There's Teddy" when a Harold Melvin song would come on. I have to be honest here and say this. I really miss the tension that was apparent in those old Bluenotes recordings. That's what made Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes so great. I didn't follow Teddy into his solo career because of my switch over to FM and my general tuning myself out of the danceable Soul music beginning to turn into what would become as Disco. I would hear Teddy later on and I would pine for the Bluenotes days. I will readily admit to that. This is going to be a terrible analogy, but my feelings towards Teddy Pendergrass are a lot like some cross-sections of fans of Janis Joplin have felt about her over the years. You'll get the people who'll say that Janis was at her best when she was part of a team when she was in Big Brother & the Holding Company. I have to admit, I really think Teddy was at his best when he was with Harold Melvin & the Bluenotes and he was a member of a team and winning a championship of sorts as a result. We all now about sports teams who won championships who had members who beat the shit out of each other in the locker room and still managed to win championships (like those Oakland A's teams of the '70s). Now, I don't know if it was quite like that between Harold and Teddy nor to what extent. I suppose only Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff truely know. I would like to think that they are both at peace with each other in all regards now that they have been reunited and that they have some fine plans ahead for the rest of us.
What I am greatly happy for the most for Teddy is that he is now out of his wheelchair. I am also happy that he no longer has colon cancer to go along with being bound to a wheelchair. Do you imagine the terrible ordeal this must have been for him even though he put on a good face? I really hope that he and the late Curtis Mayfield are trading notes on their experiences on having been bound to chairs late in their lives and I hope they are both celebrating thier freedom.
Like Curtis, I hope Teddy knows that he deserves the freedom he has found because he gave all of us fans so much freedom through his expression in music. Walk tall, Teddy. You made all of us walk tall. My God! Even God Himself must be overwhelmed to have both you and Levi Stubb singing in the same room together. Thank you so much for everything, Teddy. We love you.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Baseball: My First 3 Seasons 1970-1972
I have prided myself through the years on remembering a lot of specific things. For some crazy reason, my memory of when I played my first season of Little League baseball has played tricks on me. For a long time, I was under the impression that I first played in 1969, then skipped 1970 because of my pending move to Eugene, and then picked up again in 1971 once I got to Eugene. But I think I've had this information incorrect for a long time. I believe that I actually started in 1970.
My budding interest in baseball began with the San Francisco Giants while I was living on Franklin Street. Some of my earliest baseball memories are of listening to Giants games on the radio (being called by Russ Hodges and Lon Simmons while they were getting stewed on beer) with my brother Mike. In fact, I even recall listening to the Giants and Padres on the radio one very specific time with him.
In First Grade, I began the process of going over to Buck Shaw Stadium to begin the very special Spring ritual of where St. Clare School would be let out for the day so that the kids could go with their parents to see the Santa Clara Broncos play the Giants. Back then, this was the Giants team which had Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal, Hal Lanier, Gaylord Perry, Dick Dietz and Bobby Bonds among others. So, this was always an exciting thing.
I was also getting exposed to them on television. It was inevitable that I would eventually go up to Candlestick Park to see my first MLB game proper. That day came in 1969 when I went up to see a doubleheader between the Giants and the Atlanta Braves. The Hank Aaron led Braves lost the first game to the Giants. I got to see Juan Marachal pitch. We never got to see the end of the second game as my Dad was becoming concerned that I had taken in enough baseball for a day, so we left to go back home.
At this time, I was also beginning to watch the Oakland A's on televison as well. It was during this time that my Dad's best man (for one year) worked for the A's. He was responsible for having gotten Monte Moore recommended to become the broadcaster for the A's after Harry Carray left. As a side note, for those of you who think Harry was a lovable drunkard. That is a fable. The late Bob Freitas told me that Harry was an insufferable lout who drove everybody crazy and that he treated people like shit. He was fired from the Cardinals when it was discovered that he was having an afair with one of Augie Busch's relations. I can't remember if it was his wife or a Busch relative's wife.
With this backdrop, my Dad asked me if I was interested in trying out to play some baseball. I said I was. So I went to what would become Carley Field and tried my hand at fielding and hitting a ball. I discovered something very quickly. I could field pretty much o.k., but I was scared shitless of this really hard baseball whizzing by me when I was at the plate. After my tryout, I was assigned to a team. I don't have my team photo handy. Believe it or not, I can't remember if we were the White Sox or the Red Sox. I can't even recall if we were sponsored by anybody. To make matters worse, I don't even recall the names of the coaches I had. I do, however, remember my coach. We barely interacted with each other at all.
There is a hilarious incident from back in this season in 1970. I was at practice one day and I was up to bat taking my swings. Well, the pitcher that the coach was using was scaring the hell out of me by having no control that day. I was crouched very low in my stance. Finally, a ball came whizzing by me that was too close for comfort. What did I do? I ran off and hid in the bushes for the rest of practice. My Dad eventually came over and rescued me from practice. My coach had a talk with him and told him what happened. He told my Dad that the way the kid was pitching, he would have run into the bushes too.
One of my teammates was a kid named Albert Barcellos. Albert and I would become good baseball buddies. It got to be so much so that I would eventually get to go to his house a few times and hang out with him and his parents. I must say this. His late Dad, Manuel, was a prince of a human being in my eyes. He always made me feel comfortable and that I was accepted. He was just such a warm person. He always had the sun in his eyes. His smile was also one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It's no wonder that my Dad liked him so much. For some strange reason which I still can't explain to myself, I was always a little scared of his Mom even though she was friendly to me as well. She told me a few times that I was going to grow up to become a politician. Well, my Uncle was the Mayor at the time.
Anyway, the team that I was on started out great guns to begin the season. I was strangely placed in right field. I think I rarely ever had to make a play out there. The reason why we started out great was because we had a kid on our team with whom was evaluated incorrectly by the people at the tryouts (or else the kid was made to be a ringer). This kid was huge by our standards. We were squirts while this kid lumbered around like Boog Powell. He was enormous. What happened was that he started off by hitting monsterous shots-some being home runs. Us kids were giddy. All we had to do was get on base so that we could wait for him to bring us in. We were slaugherting other teams in the first half of the season by huge margins. Well, the league caught sight of what was happening and decided that he had been misclassified. They called him up to a higher level. And that's when our hopes of winning the championship for our division did a nosedive into the tank. We scraped out some wins. For the most part, we usually got our breakfast, lunch and dinner handed to us most of the time.
It was during this season that I also played against David G., my classmate at St. Clare's for the first time as opponents. When I came up to bat against him, we both smiled at each other. I'm pretty sure that he struck me out.
For my first year in Little League ball, I was scared of the ball when I batted. I walked on most of my at-bats that year. I did not get any hits. I would crouch so low in a stance that I didn't give an umpire a strike zone to speak of to call pitches. If the Westside Little League had kept stats on players back then for our division, I probably would have haeld records for two things-the most walks and the most steals. What I greatly excelled at was in stealing bases once I got on base. I had this knack of timing when a pitcher was at his apex of his pitching moment so that I could take off on him. This accomplishment of mine led to what may possibly be my favorite memory of something I did for my Dad.
The morning of Father's Day 1970 had dawned. I went over to the bedroom of my parents to go and see them for a breif spell knowing that I had a game to play that day. My Mom and Dad were still in bed and I made the following announcement to my Dad. It went something like this, "Dad, I know it's Father's Day except that I didn't get you anything for it. But I'm going to make up for it though. When I get on today (it was a given that I would walk because it happened so frequently), I am going to steal all of the bases for you as a Father's Day present, o.k.?" My Dad must have been thinking that I was nuts. Knowing him, after I left the room, he and Mom were probably laughing their asses off at my bold claim.
So, the game arrived later in the day. Lo and behold, when I got to bat, I got my usual walk due to my barely existing strike zone because of the crouch that I used to protect myself from that evil baseball. When I was on first, I told myself to remember what I had promised Dad. I carefully watched the apex of the pitcher's motion. I took off and I stole second base. I'm thinking to myself one down and two to go. I let the pitcher throw a few pitches as I still put out a lead from second just so I could keep him nervous. I knew I would head back to second after each pitch until I decided the time was right to make my move. And then he decided that I was going to stay there. He let himself get vulnerable during the apex of his motion for a fraction too long. I took off and I stole third base with no throw. Now I'm thinking that I just have one more left to fulfill my promise to Dad. I knew my Dad was at the game and in the stands watching me.
At this point,I clearly remember that both the pitcher and the catcher were very nervous. They were really keeping an eye on me now. I didn't give myself much of a lead as well. The guy threw some pitches. I don't know if another batter had come up or not. All I know is that I was itching to get to home. Well, I had frazzled the pitcher. He eventually threw either a wild pitch or a pass ball because the pitch ended up in the dirt and flew by the catcher in the interim. This was my big moment. I took off. The ball slid almost to the backstop. The catcher went running frantically to get he ball while the pitcher came running up to the plate to take a throw in an attempt to get me out. I came charging in feet first like I always slid. The catcher came up to the plate and tried to tag me. Apparently, my feet made it before he applied the tag. I scored. I did it! I kept my promise to Dad. I tried to find him in the stands, but I couldn't see him as the crowd had jumped up in excitement. I saw him later on and he sure had a grin from ear to ear.
When I moved up to Eugene, baseball was going to be completely different for me. I tried out and was classified to play in tee ball in order to help me overcome my fear of the ball. In 1971, I had just got done being in Third Grade and my mind was filled with music to go with the baseball. I played for the team I would play on in both 1971 and 1972-the Cascade Lions. They were coached by a man with whom I would come to love and respect. He was Bob Straub. Mr. Straub was not a spring chicken. He was old even back then. But he was an exceptionally gentle person who was very encouraging. He took us kids to heart. We held our practices at the Meadowlark School. One of my teammates was somebody I would know later on at Marist High School. This would be none other than Charlie N. Charlie was a notorious prankster and troublemaker. He frequently loved to bring firecrackers to practice and set a few off before Mr. Straub would roll into practice in his red and white VW van (I guess it would be a mini-van today).
Mr. Straub apparently had a special thing for me. He noticed that I was different and that I carried myself a little differently than the other kids when I was at practice. He stunned me once. As I was standing beside my Mom one time either after a practice or before a game one time, he told my Mom that I reminded him of Joe DiMaggio in how I carried myself. My Mom and Mr. Straub had both seen DiMaggio play. My Mom got to see him and his two brothers play when all three brothers played in the PCL. Being from San Francisco originally, Mom got to see the San Francisco Seals a lot.
The tee helped me a lot. I got plenty of hits and I still got around on the basepaths. Because of the fact that kids were getting plenty of hits, I never had to steal bases. Mr. Straub did notice that I could field pretty well. As a result, I played second base. My best play of the the two years I played there occurred at Meadowlark. A kid on the oppsoing team hit a ball to right field and hit first base. He decided to try to stretch the hit into a double. The kid in right picked up the ball and threw it to me. The only thing was that I knew time was running out and that he was going to get in safe if I didn't do anything. I also knew our right fielder was a weak thrower. I think what happened was that he threw as hard as he could and ball rolled to me. I was smart enough to decide that I couldn't try to get this guy out by just standing there in the regular way. I stuck my right foot on the bag and then I stretched myself as long as I possibly could while holding on to the bag with my foot. The ball rolled to my glove just in the nick of time. When the kid slid in, it was as if time stood still. The umpire came over to see what had happened. The crowd was hushed in silence. I was crumpled on the ground but my foot was still on the bag. And then I turned up my glove and showed the umpire that the ball was in my glove. The umpire excitedly called the guy out. That's when I heard a roar come from the crowd. I was a hero for a small bit.
The 1971 season was a really fun one. Mr. Straub was our only coach that year. He had no assistants. I think we finished either second or third in our division. So, I was feeling good about things.
The 1972 season came around and things changed. Mr. Straub was still the wonderful human being he always was. He had decided to bring in an assistant coach. He was a fairly young coach. He had been to Vietnam and he was intense. In fact , he was too intense. He made everybody on the team feel way too jittery. As a result, we began to lose games frequently. Plus, we used to always go have an icecream cone after a good chunk of our games at the Dairy Queen on Coburg Road. We used to have fun there no matter if we won or lost. But this guy who was hanging out with us was just driving us nuts. About halfway through the season, Mr. Straub let him go. As a result, we started winning games again. Sadly, it didn't salvage our season.
Because of my baserunning andy my telling hims stories of my first season in baseball, Charlie N. bestowed upon me the nickname Roto-Rooter. Mr. Straub also knew I had speed on the basepaths and he wanted me to become a better runner. He noticed that I ran with my feet facing outward way too much. Little did I know what he had in store for me. I had no idea who he had connections with, but he knew people around town. He told me he was going to bring somebody over to the next practice to help me with my running and to make sure that I was there. I showed up for the next practice. Imagine my surprise when Coach Straub introduces me to none other than the famous University of Oregon track coach Bill Bowerman. Bowerman took time out out of his busy day to come over to teach me to not run like a waddling duck. He ahd me lean up against a wall with both of my hands and arms stretched out. Then he told me to look down at my feet and to force them to turn inward when I ran. I was to do this so that I could visualize myself keeping my feet turned inward and straight when I ran. When I go on walks with my dog on a daily basis and catch myself waddling (which I still do way too much), I will think of Bill Bowerman and those lessons he was trying to teach me and attempt to walk the correct way again.
I never saw Coach Straub again. Even after I moved back up here in 1978, I never saw him again. It is one of my great regrets. I loved this man very much. I was told by Charlie N. at one of our reunions for Marist that he lived to be a very old man even though he didn't know if he had passed on yet. I'm sure he's gone now. I miss him so much. He was my coach and he was a friend as well. I wish I could tell him how much he meant to me. I will have to wait until my time comes and I pass over to the other side.
My last year in baseball would occur back in Santa Clara in the Summer of 1973. I want to give it a separate entry as it falls in what I consider to be my favorite time period in my life. It would be a very special season during a very special time.
My budding interest in baseball began with the San Francisco Giants while I was living on Franklin Street. Some of my earliest baseball memories are of listening to Giants games on the radio (being called by Russ Hodges and Lon Simmons while they were getting stewed on beer) with my brother Mike. In fact, I even recall listening to the Giants and Padres on the radio one very specific time with him.
In First Grade, I began the process of going over to Buck Shaw Stadium to begin the very special Spring ritual of where St. Clare School would be let out for the day so that the kids could go with their parents to see the Santa Clara Broncos play the Giants. Back then, this was the Giants team which had Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal, Hal Lanier, Gaylord Perry, Dick Dietz and Bobby Bonds among others. So, this was always an exciting thing.
I was also getting exposed to them on television. It was inevitable that I would eventually go up to Candlestick Park to see my first MLB game proper. That day came in 1969 when I went up to see a doubleheader between the Giants and the Atlanta Braves. The Hank Aaron led Braves lost the first game to the Giants. I got to see Juan Marachal pitch. We never got to see the end of the second game as my Dad was becoming concerned that I had taken in enough baseball for a day, so we left to go back home.
At this time, I was also beginning to watch the Oakland A's on televison as well. It was during this time that my Dad's best man (for one year) worked for the A's. He was responsible for having gotten Monte Moore recommended to become the broadcaster for the A's after Harry Carray left. As a side note, for those of you who think Harry was a lovable drunkard. That is a fable. The late Bob Freitas told me that Harry was an insufferable lout who drove everybody crazy and that he treated people like shit. He was fired from the Cardinals when it was discovered that he was having an afair with one of Augie Busch's relations. I can't remember if it was his wife or a Busch relative's wife.
With this backdrop, my Dad asked me if I was interested in trying out to play some baseball. I said I was. So I went to what would become Carley Field and tried my hand at fielding and hitting a ball. I discovered something very quickly. I could field pretty much o.k., but I was scared shitless of this really hard baseball whizzing by me when I was at the plate. After my tryout, I was assigned to a team. I don't have my team photo handy. Believe it or not, I can't remember if we were the White Sox or the Red Sox. I can't even recall if we were sponsored by anybody. To make matters worse, I don't even recall the names of the coaches I had. I do, however, remember my coach. We barely interacted with each other at all.
There is a hilarious incident from back in this season in 1970. I was at practice one day and I was up to bat taking my swings. Well, the pitcher that the coach was using was scaring the hell out of me by having no control that day. I was crouched very low in my stance. Finally, a ball came whizzing by me that was too close for comfort. What did I do? I ran off and hid in the bushes for the rest of practice. My Dad eventually came over and rescued me from practice. My coach had a talk with him and told him what happened. He told my Dad that the way the kid was pitching, he would have run into the bushes too.
One of my teammates was a kid named Albert Barcellos. Albert and I would become good baseball buddies. It got to be so much so that I would eventually get to go to his house a few times and hang out with him and his parents. I must say this. His late Dad, Manuel, was a prince of a human being in my eyes. He always made me feel comfortable and that I was accepted. He was just such a warm person. He always had the sun in his eyes. His smile was also one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It's no wonder that my Dad liked him so much. For some strange reason which I still can't explain to myself, I was always a little scared of his Mom even though she was friendly to me as well. She told me a few times that I was going to grow up to become a politician. Well, my Uncle was the Mayor at the time.
Anyway, the team that I was on started out great guns to begin the season. I was strangely placed in right field. I think I rarely ever had to make a play out there. The reason why we started out great was because we had a kid on our team with whom was evaluated incorrectly by the people at the tryouts (or else the kid was made to be a ringer). This kid was huge by our standards. We were squirts while this kid lumbered around like Boog Powell. He was enormous. What happened was that he started off by hitting monsterous shots-some being home runs. Us kids were giddy. All we had to do was get on base so that we could wait for him to bring us in. We were slaugherting other teams in the first half of the season by huge margins. Well, the league caught sight of what was happening and decided that he had been misclassified. They called him up to a higher level. And that's when our hopes of winning the championship for our division did a nosedive into the tank. We scraped out some wins. For the most part, we usually got our breakfast, lunch and dinner handed to us most of the time.
It was during this season that I also played against David G., my classmate at St. Clare's for the first time as opponents. When I came up to bat against him, we both smiled at each other. I'm pretty sure that he struck me out.
For my first year in Little League ball, I was scared of the ball when I batted. I walked on most of my at-bats that year. I did not get any hits. I would crouch so low in a stance that I didn't give an umpire a strike zone to speak of to call pitches. If the Westside Little League had kept stats on players back then for our division, I probably would have haeld records for two things-the most walks and the most steals. What I greatly excelled at was in stealing bases once I got on base. I had this knack of timing when a pitcher was at his apex of his pitching moment so that I could take off on him. This accomplishment of mine led to what may possibly be my favorite memory of something I did for my Dad.
The morning of Father's Day 1970 had dawned. I went over to the bedroom of my parents to go and see them for a breif spell knowing that I had a game to play that day. My Mom and Dad were still in bed and I made the following announcement to my Dad. It went something like this, "Dad, I know it's Father's Day except that I didn't get you anything for it. But I'm going to make up for it though. When I get on today (it was a given that I would walk because it happened so frequently), I am going to steal all of the bases for you as a Father's Day present, o.k.?" My Dad must have been thinking that I was nuts. Knowing him, after I left the room, he and Mom were probably laughing their asses off at my bold claim.
So, the game arrived later in the day. Lo and behold, when I got to bat, I got my usual walk due to my barely existing strike zone because of the crouch that I used to protect myself from that evil baseball. When I was on first, I told myself to remember what I had promised Dad. I carefully watched the apex of the pitcher's motion. I took off and I stole second base. I'm thinking to myself one down and two to go. I let the pitcher throw a few pitches as I still put out a lead from second just so I could keep him nervous. I knew I would head back to second after each pitch until I decided the time was right to make my move. And then he decided that I was going to stay there. He let himself get vulnerable during the apex of his motion for a fraction too long. I took off and I stole third base with no throw. Now I'm thinking that I just have one more left to fulfill my promise to Dad. I knew my Dad was at the game and in the stands watching me.
At this point,I clearly remember that both the pitcher and the catcher were very nervous. They were really keeping an eye on me now. I didn't give myself much of a lead as well. The guy threw some pitches. I don't know if another batter had come up or not. All I know is that I was itching to get to home. Well, I had frazzled the pitcher. He eventually threw either a wild pitch or a pass ball because the pitch ended up in the dirt and flew by the catcher in the interim. This was my big moment. I took off. The ball slid almost to the backstop. The catcher went running frantically to get he ball while the pitcher came running up to the plate to take a throw in an attempt to get me out. I came charging in feet first like I always slid. The catcher came up to the plate and tried to tag me. Apparently, my feet made it before he applied the tag. I scored. I did it! I kept my promise to Dad. I tried to find him in the stands, but I couldn't see him as the crowd had jumped up in excitement. I saw him later on and he sure had a grin from ear to ear.
When I moved up to Eugene, baseball was going to be completely different for me. I tried out and was classified to play in tee ball in order to help me overcome my fear of the ball. In 1971, I had just got done being in Third Grade and my mind was filled with music to go with the baseball. I played for the team I would play on in both 1971 and 1972-the Cascade Lions. They were coached by a man with whom I would come to love and respect. He was Bob Straub. Mr. Straub was not a spring chicken. He was old even back then. But he was an exceptionally gentle person who was very encouraging. He took us kids to heart. We held our practices at the Meadowlark School. One of my teammates was somebody I would know later on at Marist High School. This would be none other than Charlie N. Charlie was a notorious prankster and troublemaker. He frequently loved to bring firecrackers to practice and set a few off before Mr. Straub would roll into practice in his red and white VW van (I guess it would be a mini-van today).
Mr. Straub apparently had a special thing for me. He noticed that I was different and that I carried myself a little differently than the other kids when I was at practice. He stunned me once. As I was standing beside my Mom one time either after a practice or before a game one time, he told my Mom that I reminded him of Joe DiMaggio in how I carried myself. My Mom and Mr. Straub had both seen DiMaggio play. My Mom got to see him and his two brothers play when all three brothers played in the PCL. Being from San Francisco originally, Mom got to see the San Francisco Seals a lot.
The tee helped me a lot. I got plenty of hits and I still got around on the basepaths. Because of the fact that kids were getting plenty of hits, I never had to steal bases. Mr. Straub did notice that I could field pretty well. As a result, I played second base. My best play of the the two years I played there occurred at Meadowlark. A kid on the oppsoing team hit a ball to right field and hit first base. He decided to try to stretch the hit into a double. The kid in right picked up the ball and threw it to me. The only thing was that I knew time was running out and that he was going to get in safe if I didn't do anything. I also knew our right fielder was a weak thrower. I think what happened was that he threw as hard as he could and ball rolled to me. I was smart enough to decide that I couldn't try to get this guy out by just standing there in the regular way. I stuck my right foot on the bag and then I stretched myself as long as I possibly could while holding on to the bag with my foot. The ball rolled to my glove just in the nick of time. When the kid slid in, it was as if time stood still. The umpire came over to see what had happened. The crowd was hushed in silence. I was crumpled on the ground but my foot was still on the bag. And then I turned up my glove and showed the umpire that the ball was in my glove. The umpire excitedly called the guy out. That's when I heard a roar come from the crowd. I was a hero for a small bit.
The 1971 season was a really fun one. Mr. Straub was our only coach that year. He had no assistants. I think we finished either second or third in our division. So, I was feeling good about things.
The 1972 season came around and things changed. Mr. Straub was still the wonderful human being he always was. He had decided to bring in an assistant coach. He was a fairly young coach. He had been to Vietnam and he was intense. In fact , he was too intense. He made everybody on the team feel way too jittery. As a result, we began to lose games frequently. Plus, we used to always go have an icecream cone after a good chunk of our games at the Dairy Queen on Coburg Road. We used to have fun there no matter if we won or lost. But this guy who was hanging out with us was just driving us nuts. About halfway through the season, Mr. Straub let him go. As a result, we started winning games again. Sadly, it didn't salvage our season.
Because of my baserunning andy my telling hims stories of my first season in baseball, Charlie N. bestowed upon me the nickname Roto-Rooter. Mr. Straub also knew I had speed on the basepaths and he wanted me to become a better runner. He noticed that I ran with my feet facing outward way too much. Little did I know what he had in store for me. I had no idea who he had connections with, but he knew people around town. He told me he was going to bring somebody over to the next practice to help me with my running and to make sure that I was there. I showed up for the next practice. Imagine my surprise when Coach Straub introduces me to none other than the famous University of Oregon track coach Bill Bowerman. Bowerman took time out out of his busy day to come over to teach me to not run like a waddling duck. He ahd me lean up against a wall with both of my hands and arms stretched out. Then he told me to look down at my feet and to force them to turn inward when I ran. I was to do this so that I could visualize myself keeping my feet turned inward and straight when I ran. When I go on walks with my dog on a daily basis and catch myself waddling (which I still do way too much), I will think of Bill Bowerman and those lessons he was trying to teach me and attempt to walk the correct way again.
I never saw Coach Straub again. Even after I moved back up here in 1978, I never saw him again. It is one of my great regrets. I loved this man very much. I was told by Charlie N. at one of our reunions for Marist that he lived to be a very old man even though he didn't know if he had passed on yet. I'm sure he's gone now. I miss him so much. He was my coach and he was a friend as well. I wish I could tell him how much he meant to me. I will have to wait until my time comes and I pass over to the other side.
My last year in baseball would occur back in Santa Clara in the Summer of 1973. I want to give it a separate entry as it falls in what I consider to be my favorite time period in my life. It would be a very special season during a very special time.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Appreciation: Willie Mitchell, Tony Clarke & Tony Bellamy
I've been spending a good portion of time here at OddStonesSods telling you all about when I lived up here in Eugene during my first time around. I've also been telling you about a lot of the music I was listening to then as well. I will also be telling you about when I moved back to Santa Clara in late '72 to begin my favorite period from late '72 to late '74. The three gentleman I am to discuss here come from this period (and in the case of Tony Clarke-from the '60s).
When it comes to Al Green, it is a given that you have to mention Willie Mitchell. Without Willie, we would have never come to know the Al Green that we know now and kind of take for granted in some respects because he's just so hugely talented and blessed with a gift for telling stories of the soul through music. You see, that gift wouldn't have been exposed if it wasn't for Willie Mitchell. Now, perhaps Al might have popped up at some other place in the country and exposed his voice to the world, but would his voice have been truely his own had it not been for Willie Mitchell? The story has been repeated so many times before, but it was Mitchell who told Al Green to quit trying to sing like other Soul artists and to just sing like Al Green.
Because of that simple and profoundly true advice, we got the Al Green that we now know of for today. For many of us, it was to be the Al Green that we remember from the early '70s and especially 1972 when he knocked us out silly with "Let's Stay Together". Now, mind you, Al continued to knock us out when he converted and went to sing Gospel music. And he continues to do so with the music he produces today where he straddles the line between Gospel and the old days when he was unabashedly sensual in his message by way of that incredible voice of his.
However, it must be pointed out that when you listen to a song like "Let's Stay Together" and you dive into the song itself even further, you begin to further realize that there isn't just a great singer singing his heart during this number. You can dig something else going on from listening to other Al Green records. You get it from listening other Hi Records releases from other artists who were on the Hi roster such as Ann Peebles. She would knock our socks off with "I Can't Stand The Rain" in 1973.
Here's what it is, people. When you listened to a Willie Mitchell production. You heard a sound which could never be duplicated by anyone else on this Earth ever again. For starters, it's like the first thing I thought of that members of one of the music boards I belong to have have mentioned in their tributes to Willie when the news of his passing first broke. Man, this guy mixed and made the drums on Hi Records songs so unique. And then, there was the orchestration. Listen to the drums and the orchestration on "Let's Stay Together" and tell me if you don't hear a full sound and not just a singer. You are hearing it from all sides and not just one side. When "I Can't Stand The Rain" comes on, you hear the unique, African-influenced percussion instrument being employed to go with the clean and yet gritty sound that only Mitchell could come up with.
Willie was a musician before he was a producer. I will always remember him for what he gave to me during my great run from 1970-1974 when I was rising ever higher with the music I was discovering. Thank you so much Willie.
Though he was a person that didn't get mentioned much in the discussions that I've had with a lot of people over the years, I did have times where The Moody Blues were mentioned plenty of times and with good reason. Their run in the '60s and the early '70s were essential listening whether you were a listener who heard the stuff when it actually came out back in the '60s or when the re-released singles started spewing forth as well as when the '70s started progressing beyond 1974 and all of radio was beginning the process of looking back , you became aware of the existence of The Moody Blues whether you wished to avoid them or not. Radio did not ignore them.
For me, I do recall clearly living in Santa Clara once again and listening to the re-release of the "Nights In White Satin" single and listening to a steady dose of "Tuesday Afternoon" as well. When I made the switch over to F.M. in 1974, I began to discover more of their music, including "Legend of A Mind" and ,"I'm Just A Singer In A Rock and Roll Band" (proper title?).
What do you think of when you hear The Moody Blues? Among other things, I heard great lush orchestration being intertwined with great forward visioned music. Tony Clarke is the man who was responsible for that integration. The great producers always know how to balance the vision of the artists writing the songs and performing them with his own vision of how he's going to get the song to sound on tape. He's also going to know when to adjust the vision in the artist's mind as ell as making adjustments in his own and possibly end up making something that turned out even better than either of the two envisioned. I'm sure Tony Clarke had this happen with the members of The Moody Blues. Well, the results turned out to be quite splendid. The fans always refer to the Great Seven (meaning the great seven albums that are generally regarded as the cream of the crop in their legacy). For me, my copies of the Deluxe Editions of Days of The Future Passed and In Search of the Lost Chord are the proof I have of Tony Clarke's greatness. It was inevitable that the music of The Moody Blues was going to find its way into my life. I could swear that I heard them on the radio even before I moved back to Santa Clara in '72. It's just that I know for certain that I did hear them when "Nights In White Satin" was re-released as a single.
And now I come to somebody with whom I hesitate to write about at this time. The reason why this is so is not for the usual reasons. During the course of my writing entires into my blog, I am trying not to get tempted into writing about the '72-'74 Santa Clara period yet because of how monumental it is to me. Plus, I have another reason for my hesitancy. Tony Bellamy may only have been the second guitarist (mostly rhythm) for Redbone. But my love for this band runs so deep (which is ironic given that I grew up on only 2 singles of theirs and I own only 1 CD-a compilation) because of what they represent to me.
It is this idea (what they represent to me) which compels me to pay tribute to this man. It further compels me to make it a point to pay tribute to each band member when their times come to leave this mortal coil (and trust me, I will do so). And it also requires that I tell you way ahead of schedule of why "Come and Get Your Love" is such an all encompassing song to me. It means so much so to me that I will repeat this story with further writing when the time is appropriate to my story I'm trying to tell.
Redbone was a band I first got exposed to as a result of "Witch Queen of New Orleans" when I was lving here in Eugene from '70-'72. I knew right away that this was a Native American band. I just knew it by listening to the music and their words. They were passing on their spirit to me. It would take many years for me to know (not until about 5 years back actually) that there was a connection between Redbone and Jimi Hendrix. With Jimi having some North American Indian blood in him to go with being African-American, it was Jimi who encouraged Redbone that they should be together as a group. It is so ironic. When "Come and Get Your Love" was released back in 1974, I was taking my first serious (exceptionally deep) dive into Jimi's music via my brother Mike's old copy of Smash Hits that I bought off of him.
And so now, I'm letting the damn cat out of the bag when I tell you this. When I think of songs which stand out to me as archtypical of the last, in my opinion, great period for singles in the '70s which I believed started ending in the Fall of '74, one of the ones which leaps out in my mind immediately (among a few others) is "Come and Get Your Love". It was laid back in personality, but it had a groove that drove it home. It was direct in dealing with an issue like the subject matter of the song. It had rhythm. it had electric sitar being used in a tasteful fashion. And then, to my mind, it had that airy production like the song was being sent out to Heaven as if it was being recorded for eternity to represent a period of time for everybody-including me. It was the orchestration in the background and how it had some reverb to go with the cleanness of the basic track of the recording. The vocals, the guitar fills, the electric sitar to go with the lyrics being sung in a specific language pattern that I so identified with and was definitely spoken during that specific period in time just nailed me absolutely to the wall.
A further enhancement was made for this song that made it stick to my mind even further was that I got to see Redbone on television perform this song in their Native American traditonal garb. I was realizing that these guys, being Native Americans, were just as cool as all of the African-American artists I was digging and that they had a story to tell just as well. It was music that made them equals to me just as much as I was taking to heart Black artists on the same level. It was as if they were inviting me into their world and their were no strings attached if only I allowed them into my world as well. Well, I did and I believe we were a great match.
I spend many a day referring to the orchestration in that song between the lines they sing "come and get your love/come and get your love" in my thoughts. It may have been seemingly simple, but it works so incredibly well. Tony Bellamy was a part of all of this. His spirit was a part of this experience. As a result, his spirit was a part of my spirit because he was in a band who gave of themselves and their identity as a reminder that they stood as equals to the rest of us and that they had the same feelings that we did as adults and as kids. Hell, I considered both songs proof. Plus, this was a damned good band. I only have a compilation which is the Sony/Legacy The Essential Redbone compilation which absolutely slaughters my hearing impaired ears because Joseph Palmaccio mastered this thing so loudly that I cannot enjoy this CD through my headphones or through standard speaker set-ups. I have to turn this CD down so low that I can't enjoy the emotional impact of what I'm listening to. It is my fervant hope that the individual Redbone albums get reissued at some point and that they get remastered by somebody like Vic Anesini or Mark Wilder with the love and care they deserve. I grew up on the single version of "Come and Get Your Love" without ever knowing there was a longer version with a stunning intro. It is about time people got to hear this on a better mastering than the one on The Essential Redbone.
God Bless You Tony Bellamy. You may have only been the second guitar player in Redbone, but you were part of a band of equals who were equals in my eyes. As I pay tribute to you now, I pay tribute to all of you in the band. You helped to give me a period of time that I love and miss from a great distance right now because of that song. But if its up there in Heaven where it is not restricted by anything, it will certainly be there waiting for me to relive all over again and perhaps in your prescence. I just hope to God that people don't think you and the band were just some gimmick band who had a big hit and appeared on a music program performing the song because of presenting yourselves as who you were. Based on the times I have been able to withstand listening to the mastering on The Essential Redbone, it is very obvious that you had great musical diversity. You had fantastic chops. You were tight. You made great music that was worthy of full-album experiences and not just singles. Redbone and Tony Bellamy. They weren't a stereotype. They were the real deal.
When it comes to Al Green, it is a given that you have to mention Willie Mitchell. Without Willie, we would have never come to know the Al Green that we know now and kind of take for granted in some respects because he's just so hugely talented and blessed with a gift for telling stories of the soul through music. You see, that gift wouldn't have been exposed if it wasn't for Willie Mitchell. Now, perhaps Al might have popped up at some other place in the country and exposed his voice to the world, but would his voice have been truely his own had it not been for Willie Mitchell? The story has been repeated so many times before, but it was Mitchell who told Al Green to quit trying to sing like other Soul artists and to just sing like Al Green.
Because of that simple and profoundly true advice, we got the Al Green that we now know of for today. For many of us, it was to be the Al Green that we remember from the early '70s and especially 1972 when he knocked us out silly with "Let's Stay Together". Now, mind you, Al continued to knock us out when he converted and went to sing Gospel music. And he continues to do so with the music he produces today where he straddles the line between Gospel and the old days when he was unabashedly sensual in his message by way of that incredible voice of his.
However, it must be pointed out that when you listen to a song like "Let's Stay Together" and you dive into the song itself even further, you begin to further realize that there isn't just a great singer singing his heart during this number. You can dig something else going on from listening to other Al Green records. You get it from listening other Hi Records releases from other artists who were on the Hi roster such as Ann Peebles. She would knock our socks off with "I Can't Stand The Rain" in 1973.
Here's what it is, people. When you listened to a Willie Mitchell production. You heard a sound which could never be duplicated by anyone else on this Earth ever again. For starters, it's like the first thing I thought of that members of one of the music boards I belong to have have mentioned in their tributes to Willie when the news of his passing first broke. Man, this guy mixed and made the drums on Hi Records songs so unique. And then, there was the orchestration. Listen to the drums and the orchestration on "Let's Stay Together" and tell me if you don't hear a full sound and not just a singer. You are hearing it from all sides and not just one side. When "I Can't Stand The Rain" comes on, you hear the unique, African-influenced percussion instrument being employed to go with the clean and yet gritty sound that only Mitchell could come up with.
Willie was a musician before he was a producer. I will always remember him for what he gave to me during my great run from 1970-1974 when I was rising ever higher with the music I was discovering. Thank you so much Willie.
Though he was a person that didn't get mentioned much in the discussions that I've had with a lot of people over the years, I did have times where The Moody Blues were mentioned plenty of times and with good reason. Their run in the '60s and the early '70s were essential listening whether you were a listener who heard the stuff when it actually came out back in the '60s or when the re-released singles started spewing forth as well as when the '70s started progressing beyond 1974 and all of radio was beginning the process of looking back , you became aware of the existence of The Moody Blues whether you wished to avoid them or not. Radio did not ignore them.
For me, I do recall clearly living in Santa Clara once again and listening to the re-release of the "Nights In White Satin" single and listening to a steady dose of "Tuesday Afternoon" as well. When I made the switch over to F.M. in 1974, I began to discover more of their music, including "Legend of A Mind" and ,"I'm Just A Singer In A Rock and Roll Band" (proper title?).
What do you think of when you hear The Moody Blues? Among other things, I heard great lush orchestration being intertwined with great forward visioned music. Tony Clarke is the man who was responsible for that integration. The great producers always know how to balance the vision of the artists writing the songs and performing them with his own vision of how he's going to get the song to sound on tape. He's also going to know when to adjust the vision in the artist's mind as ell as making adjustments in his own and possibly end up making something that turned out even better than either of the two envisioned. I'm sure Tony Clarke had this happen with the members of The Moody Blues. Well, the results turned out to be quite splendid. The fans always refer to the Great Seven (meaning the great seven albums that are generally regarded as the cream of the crop in their legacy). For me, my copies of the Deluxe Editions of Days of The Future Passed and In Search of the Lost Chord are the proof I have of Tony Clarke's greatness. It was inevitable that the music of The Moody Blues was going to find its way into my life. I could swear that I heard them on the radio even before I moved back to Santa Clara in '72. It's just that I know for certain that I did hear them when "Nights In White Satin" was re-released as a single.
And now I come to somebody with whom I hesitate to write about at this time. The reason why this is so is not for the usual reasons. During the course of my writing entires into my blog, I am trying not to get tempted into writing about the '72-'74 Santa Clara period yet because of how monumental it is to me. Plus, I have another reason for my hesitancy. Tony Bellamy may only have been the second guitarist (mostly rhythm) for Redbone. But my love for this band runs so deep (which is ironic given that I grew up on only 2 singles of theirs and I own only 1 CD-a compilation) because of what they represent to me.
It is this idea (what they represent to me) which compels me to pay tribute to this man. It further compels me to make it a point to pay tribute to each band member when their times come to leave this mortal coil (and trust me, I will do so). And it also requires that I tell you way ahead of schedule of why "Come and Get Your Love" is such an all encompassing song to me. It means so much so to me that I will repeat this story with further writing when the time is appropriate to my story I'm trying to tell.
Redbone was a band I first got exposed to as a result of "Witch Queen of New Orleans" when I was lving here in Eugene from '70-'72. I knew right away that this was a Native American band. I just knew it by listening to the music and their words. They were passing on their spirit to me. It would take many years for me to know (not until about 5 years back actually) that there was a connection between Redbone and Jimi Hendrix. With Jimi having some North American Indian blood in him to go with being African-American, it was Jimi who encouraged Redbone that they should be together as a group. It is so ironic. When "Come and Get Your Love" was released back in 1974, I was taking my first serious (exceptionally deep) dive into Jimi's music via my brother Mike's old copy of Smash Hits that I bought off of him.
And so now, I'm letting the damn cat out of the bag when I tell you this. When I think of songs which stand out to me as archtypical of the last, in my opinion, great period for singles in the '70s which I believed started ending in the Fall of '74, one of the ones which leaps out in my mind immediately (among a few others) is "Come and Get Your Love". It was laid back in personality, but it had a groove that drove it home. It was direct in dealing with an issue like the subject matter of the song. It had rhythm. it had electric sitar being used in a tasteful fashion. And then, to my mind, it had that airy production like the song was being sent out to Heaven as if it was being recorded for eternity to represent a period of time for everybody-including me. It was the orchestration in the background and how it had some reverb to go with the cleanness of the basic track of the recording. The vocals, the guitar fills, the electric sitar to go with the lyrics being sung in a specific language pattern that I so identified with and was definitely spoken during that specific period in time just nailed me absolutely to the wall.
A further enhancement was made for this song that made it stick to my mind even further was that I got to see Redbone on television perform this song in their Native American traditonal garb. I was realizing that these guys, being Native Americans, were just as cool as all of the African-American artists I was digging and that they had a story to tell just as well. It was music that made them equals to me just as much as I was taking to heart Black artists on the same level. It was as if they were inviting me into their world and their were no strings attached if only I allowed them into my world as well. Well, I did and I believe we were a great match.
I spend many a day referring to the orchestration in that song between the lines they sing "come and get your love/come and get your love" in my thoughts. It may have been seemingly simple, but it works so incredibly well. Tony Bellamy was a part of all of this. His spirit was a part of this experience. As a result, his spirit was a part of my spirit because he was in a band who gave of themselves and their identity as a reminder that they stood as equals to the rest of us and that they had the same feelings that we did as adults and as kids. Hell, I considered both songs proof. Plus, this was a damned good band. I only have a compilation which is the Sony/Legacy The Essential Redbone compilation which absolutely slaughters my hearing impaired ears because Joseph Palmaccio mastered this thing so loudly that I cannot enjoy this CD through my headphones or through standard speaker set-ups. I have to turn this CD down so low that I can't enjoy the emotional impact of what I'm listening to. It is my fervant hope that the individual Redbone albums get reissued at some point and that they get remastered by somebody like Vic Anesini or Mark Wilder with the love and care they deserve. I grew up on the single version of "Come and Get Your Love" without ever knowing there was a longer version with a stunning intro. It is about time people got to hear this on a better mastering than the one on The Essential Redbone.
God Bless You Tony Bellamy. You may have only been the second guitar player in Redbone, but you were part of a band of equals who were equals in my eyes. As I pay tribute to you now, I pay tribute to all of you in the band. You helped to give me a period of time that I love and miss from a great distance right now because of that song. But if its up there in Heaven where it is not restricted by anything, it will certainly be there waiting for me to relive all over again and perhaps in your prescence. I just hope to God that people don't think you and the band were just some gimmick band who had a big hit and appeared on a music program performing the song because of presenting yourselves as who you were. Based on the times I have been able to withstand listening to the mastering on The Essential Redbone, it is very obvious that you had great musical diversity. You had fantastic chops. You were tight. You made great music that was worthy of full-album experiences and not just singles. Redbone and Tony Bellamy. They weren't a stereotype. They were the real deal.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
My State of Disarray Address-Jan. 2010
For this evening, I have decided to take a complete detour and tell you about my state of mind as it currently exists at this point in time. I'm fairly tired as I type this. I am at the start of some new stress as a result of new neighbors who have moved into one of the rentals by me who have not made a good first impression. The rental on the other side of me is also in a state of flux as it appears that the couple in that one has split up. I am now anticipating that the girl who is there right now isn't going to be there too much longer. I could end up in a situation where I have shitty neighbors to either side of me.
In the time I have been living here in the (ironically named) Santa Clara area of Eugene, I have had the misfortune of having bought my house from a crooked contractor who did not do everything he was supposed to do to make my house complete nor fully satisfactory. I was also not informed when I bought my house that the contractor made a sweetheart deal with one of the rental property management operations here in Eugene to dump off deeds when he couldn't find buyers immediately. What he ended up doing was not telling me that one side of me was already a rental while the other house next to me was being sold to a chemically imbalanced woman who was starting the process of foreclosing on the house the moment she moved in. If the resultant two years of just incredibly insane behavior on her part wasn't bad enough (I'll tell the stories one of these times), the fact that the house ended up being bought by the same rental property management agency that owns the first house I just mentioned.
I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm worn down from having gone through 9 different neighbors on one side of me and 6 neighbors on the other over the last little over 10 years I've been living here at my house. I can honestly tell you that 8 of the 15 neighbors I've had to either side of me have been terrible. There's no stability here. There really is truth to the saying that the good ones never stay long enough and the shitty ones always stay too long.
I have been so thankful for the presence of my beloved German Shepherd through all of this. She and I are so locked into each other. We are perfect for each other even though she is a special needs dog in regards that she's exceptionally shy and is only close to me and my Mom (and one friend of mine). I am convinced that if I should die unexpectedly, she would not be too far behind because of how locked into each other we are.
I am feeling so alone right now and I don't know what to do. The one person with whom I talk to on the phone about music all of the time is living in South Carolina. We have never met yet. We are supposed to one of these days. I wish he'd move out here. We went through a few bumps in our friendship along the way, but I'm positive that he's far enough along in the maturity department to know that we can't always be in complete agreement on literally every single thing.
This thing with women obviously hasn't changed since my first pangs in 1968. It's been a long haul. One of the paradoxes I've been grappling with is that, by appearances, I've been living the life of somebody who would be compatable with a woman who comes from a religious background (as in heavily) because I don't smoke, drink or do any drugs. Yet, when I'm angry, I swear like a sailor, I'm horny as all hell and I don't like people who have come up through certain religious influences. To be specific, don't get me near any Mormons or Scientologists or just plain weird religions. By the same token, I'm also very wary of people who don't believe that God or some spiritual entity doesn't exist either. What a lot of people would never venture to guess from me is that I consider myself a radical Catholic. I do believe that God allows for people to adjust for differentbeliefs without the threat of being struck down. One of my main beefs with the Catholic hierarchy is their obsession with sex. I think God really doesn't have this great obsession over sex. I think God believes in common sense, a general steering in the right direction and also that some people are living under circumstances that are not easy and that they do have to bend the rules a bit in order to get along.
It's like this whole thing about people having affairs outside of marriage. Yeah. In general, it's wrong. In common sense terms, it's good to avoid them. If you are in a marriage where it's understood that you two are the focus of the marriage, then don't have affairs. If you are in a marriage where people do have the o.k. to swing a little or a lot, then do it but don't draw a lot of attention to yourself. And then there's the bad marriages where an affair can be a port in a storm before htey can break away. There's so many examples, it's practically endless. I'm in shitty circumstances. I can't seem to land any girlfriends at all. What am I to do? If I met a woman with whom I could very privately have a fling with (who is in a relationship where it's o.k.), I would. Like I've said before, I've done the go to Nevada and do the brothel shuffle routine before and I don't want to do it again. I think what I'm trying to say is that God understands circumstances and that everything can't be put into a little knot and placed own on a table like a little present. There are plenty of you out there that I envy. You have your picket fences and your little lies that are kept in by those fences. You have day to day realities, but do you value what you have? I have realities day to day because I have no relationship to tie all of these things I'm going through in a way that I can value at the end of the day. I would value one hot night with a hot woman to take me away from this even if only for a brief spell. Obviously, I wish I could have a full and real relationship with someone I'm attracted to. Unfortunately, I'm not that great looking. I'm thin.
I'm also angry at the whole attitude by them over the Abortion issue. It's a woman's right to choose. Let her and God work it out. Yeah, I do get a little miffed over women who have perfectly healthy babies, have the money and then abort in the third trimester. But I'm not in their shoes.
I was told by somebody recently that being called fat is the worst thing you can call somebody. Well, he's happily married to a woman he loves very much. I'm a by-product of Social Darwinism. My thinness hass made me more alone than obese people I've ever met. He doesn't realize how his telling me that hurt so very deeply. He says my being thin and being called thin places that kind of putdown very low on the totem pole as far as having hurt inflicted upon you goes. I've been put down by fat people before for my thinness. How low do you think I feel?
I have also been told that my choices are based on a hierarchy of chance percentages. A late Aunt of mine once asked me, over dinner (as I was awaiting word of the death of my beloved Grandfather) if I would ever consider marrying a Black, an Asian or a Hispanic. Mind you, she didn't use those words. She used the un-PC ones and she made me feel like I was being tested by one of Mrs. Heisch's flunkies again when she was trying to prove I was retarded.
So, I can tell you. I have rarely been attracted to African-American women although I have seen a few I've gone ga-ga over. Off the top of my head, there's Halle Berry, Allison Stewart (formerly of MSNBC and who still occasionally subs for Rachael Maddow) and a Playboy Playmate named Karin Taylor. I'm not ruling out that I could fall deeply in love with a Black woman.
I am very attracted to Asian women who come from Japan, China, Korea and Vietnam (and Hmong peoples in general). The only ones I stridently avoid are women from the Phillipines. I have never been attracted to any and I generally have heard a lot of negative things about them in comparison to other Asian ladies. My only concern with Chinese women is that I don't want to be around ones who are pro-Chinese government. I like the idea of being with one who is part of a pro-Democracy underground from a safe distance away from being arrested by Chinese authorities. I'd also like it if she didn't want to be in China at all.
I have been attracted to Hispanic women. I have had my odds with some sections of their culture. I was greatly influenced by Portuguese (European) people in Santa Clara vs. Mexicans. I could see myself with a South American woman or a woman from Central America. I could see myself with a beautiful Cuban if she's not pro-Castro or pro-U.S. Republican either. So much for all of those crushes I've had on Scandinavian and German blondes over the years, right?
Poltically, I feel just as fractured as a lot of people do right now. I'm a Democrat because it's the closest thing that I could describe myself in ways that people would accept in American terms. I might be accused of being nutty, but I'd really like to see more Western European Socialism get introduced into this country. Healthcare, transportation and the banking system need to be taken over by the government. I want leaders to keep being freely elected. I'd like to see the vast majority of Republicans drop off the face of the planet because they don't care for people like me. I'd like to see the Democrats who got bought and sold by the insurance companies during the healthcare bill and destroyed the public option be taken out and be outcast from forever holding office again. As far as being an American is concerned, it wouldn't be pragmatic of me to be a Green or a Socialist. This damned country is too center right and corporate to ever allow something like this to to happen. And yes, Sarah Plain, Dick Cheney and Rush Limbaught are the anti-Christ as far as I'm concerned. Hey Sarah, have you taken a peek at any of the Who's Nailin' Paylin porno films yet?
With the way things are going, there is going to someday be a class war in this country that is going to get violent on a large scale. It's coming. You can count on it.
If I didn't suffer from this damned IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), I would very seriously consider expatriating myself from the United States and live in The Netherlands, Germany or possibly Spain. I'd even consider Southern France. But it won't happen until a cure is found. I doubt that it will happen in my lifetime. I'd have to consider Canada as well. Who knows? Maybe I'm too entrenched in being an American to actually do it?
Would all of this finally get me a girlfriend? I just don't know. I hate freakish people of many forms. I call myself open-minded and yet I'm a lot more conservative in some regards in that there are certain comfort zones I need to be in. I hate piercings and huge tattoos. I also hate people who have to many animals than they can handle in their households, sloppy people, etc.
Where am I going to end up someday? Am I going to stay in Oregon or will I go back to California. Will I end up in Nevada? Where am I going to live?
Am I going to be safe? Am I going to be financially secure? Will I have a lawyer/financial advisor to make sure I don't screw up on my bills and my taxes? Will someone introduce me to a woman instead of having these occasional Adult Friend Finder women strangers asking to be my friend through my Facebook page? I don't trust those Adult Friend Finder women. They are looking for money, a sperm donor or looking to put the hit on my place to take things from me.
I have my days where I feel like I'm speaking face to face with people intelligently. There are other days where my confidence is such that I fell like a complet idiot. With my IBS, I have days where I'm so fucking tired that I can barely function. I really miss eating food like I did in the old days. Do you know how badly I'd love to eat hot dogs again, for instance?
Can I meet a woman I'm attracted to who could tell me that I am worthy of the sexual feelings I have and that they will be fulfilled by her? Can I have times where she can hold me and tell me that these past 42 years can start being put behind me because she is right there?
Will the stress of my relationship with my brothers finally go away? You don't get to choose your family and I thrive on being told literally that I'm loved. I have been enduring this for about 30 years. This has worn me down as well. I want my independence when Mom dies so that we don't have to deal with each other anymore so that they can't be mad at me from then on. They can stay mad at me for things in the past if they choose. I just want to move on. I want to live in peace.
Where has everybody gone?
This is my State of Disarray address during these uncertain times. I continue to be carried by the love of my Mom and my dog. Music keeps me together. My dream of female companionship stays with me although I think things are bleak. I have the faith of knowing I have Angels surrounding me. I guess I'm carrying on, but I'm really tired.
In the time I have been living here in the (ironically named) Santa Clara area of Eugene, I have had the misfortune of having bought my house from a crooked contractor who did not do everything he was supposed to do to make my house complete nor fully satisfactory. I was also not informed when I bought my house that the contractor made a sweetheart deal with one of the rental property management operations here in Eugene to dump off deeds when he couldn't find buyers immediately. What he ended up doing was not telling me that one side of me was already a rental while the other house next to me was being sold to a chemically imbalanced woman who was starting the process of foreclosing on the house the moment she moved in. If the resultant two years of just incredibly insane behavior on her part wasn't bad enough (I'll tell the stories one of these times), the fact that the house ended up being bought by the same rental property management agency that owns the first house I just mentioned.
I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm worn down from having gone through 9 different neighbors on one side of me and 6 neighbors on the other over the last little over 10 years I've been living here at my house. I can honestly tell you that 8 of the 15 neighbors I've had to either side of me have been terrible. There's no stability here. There really is truth to the saying that the good ones never stay long enough and the shitty ones always stay too long.
I have been so thankful for the presence of my beloved German Shepherd through all of this. She and I are so locked into each other. We are perfect for each other even though she is a special needs dog in regards that she's exceptionally shy and is only close to me and my Mom (and one friend of mine). I am convinced that if I should die unexpectedly, she would not be too far behind because of how locked into each other we are.
I am feeling so alone right now and I don't know what to do. The one person with whom I talk to on the phone about music all of the time is living in South Carolina. We have never met yet. We are supposed to one of these days. I wish he'd move out here. We went through a few bumps in our friendship along the way, but I'm positive that he's far enough along in the maturity department to know that we can't always be in complete agreement on literally every single thing.
This thing with women obviously hasn't changed since my first pangs in 1968. It's been a long haul. One of the paradoxes I've been grappling with is that, by appearances, I've been living the life of somebody who would be compatable with a woman who comes from a religious background (as in heavily) because I don't smoke, drink or do any drugs. Yet, when I'm angry, I swear like a sailor, I'm horny as all hell and I don't like people who have come up through certain religious influences. To be specific, don't get me near any Mormons or Scientologists or just plain weird religions. By the same token, I'm also very wary of people who don't believe that God or some spiritual entity doesn't exist either. What a lot of people would never venture to guess from me is that I consider myself a radical Catholic. I do believe that God allows for people to adjust for differentbeliefs without the threat of being struck down. One of my main beefs with the Catholic hierarchy is their obsession with sex. I think God really doesn't have this great obsession over sex. I think God believes in common sense, a general steering in the right direction and also that some people are living under circumstances that are not easy and that they do have to bend the rules a bit in order to get along.
It's like this whole thing about people having affairs outside of marriage. Yeah. In general, it's wrong. In common sense terms, it's good to avoid them. If you are in a marriage where it's understood that you two are the focus of the marriage, then don't have affairs. If you are in a marriage where people do have the o.k. to swing a little or a lot, then do it but don't draw a lot of attention to yourself. And then there's the bad marriages where an affair can be a port in a storm before htey can break away. There's so many examples, it's practically endless. I'm in shitty circumstances. I can't seem to land any girlfriends at all. What am I to do? If I met a woman with whom I could very privately have a fling with (who is in a relationship where it's o.k.), I would. Like I've said before, I've done the go to Nevada and do the brothel shuffle routine before and I don't want to do it again. I think what I'm trying to say is that God understands circumstances and that everything can't be put into a little knot and placed own on a table like a little present. There are plenty of you out there that I envy. You have your picket fences and your little lies that are kept in by those fences. You have day to day realities, but do you value what you have? I have realities day to day because I have no relationship to tie all of these things I'm going through in a way that I can value at the end of the day. I would value one hot night with a hot woman to take me away from this even if only for a brief spell. Obviously, I wish I could have a full and real relationship with someone I'm attracted to. Unfortunately, I'm not that great looking. I'm thin.
I'm also angry at the whole attitude by them over the Abortion issue. It's a woman's right to choose. Let her and God work it out. Yeah, I do get a little miffed over women who have perfectly healthy babies, have the money and then abort in the third trimester. But I'm not in their shoes.
I was told by somebody recently that being called fat is the worst thing you can call somebody. Well, he's happily married to a woman he loves very much. I'm a by-product of Social Darwinism. My thinness hass made me more alone than obese people I've ever met. He doesn't realize how his telling me that hurt so very deeply. He says my being thin and being called thin places that kind of putdown very low on the totem pole as far as having hurt inflicted upon you goes. I've been put down by fat people before for my thinness. How low do you think I feel?
I have also been told that my choices are based on a hierarchy of chance percentages. A late Aunt of mine once asked me, over dinner (as I was awaiting word of the death of my beloved Grandfather) if I would ever consider marrying a Black, an Asian or a Hispanic. Mind you, she didn't use those words. She used the un-PC ones and she made me feel like I was being tested by one of Mrs. Heisch's flunkies again when she was trying to prove I was retarded.
So, I can tell you. I have rarely been attracted to African-American women although I have seen a few I've gone ga-ga over. Off the top of my head, there's Halle Berry, Allison Stewart (formerly of MSNBC and who still occasionally subs for Rachael Maddow) and a Playboy Playmate named Karin Taylor. I'm not ruling out that I could fall deeply in love with a Black woman.
I am very attracted to Asian women who come from Japan, China, Korea and Vietnam (and Hmong peoples in general). The only ones I stridently avoid are women from the Phillipines. I have never been attracted to any and I generally have heard a lot of negative things about them in comparison to other Asian ladies. My only concern with Chinese women is that I don't want to be around ones who are pro-Chinese government. I like the idea of being with one who is part of a pro-Democracy underground from a safe distance away from being arrested by Chinese authorities. I'd also like it if she didn't want to be in China at all.
I have been attracted to Hispanic women. I have had my odds with some sections of their culture. I was greatly influenced by Portuguese (European) people in Santa Clara vs. Mexicans. I could see myself with a South American woman or a woman from Central America. I could see myself with a beautiful Cuban if she's not pro-Castro or pro-U.S. Republican either. So much for all of those crushes I've had on Scandinavian and German blondes over the years, right?
Poltically, I feel just as fractured as a lot of people do right now. I'm a Democrat because it's the closest thing that I could describe myself in ways that people would accept in American terms. I might be accused of being nutty, but I'd really like to see more Western European Socialism get introduced into this country. Healthcare, transportation and the banking system need to be taken over by the government. I want leaders to keep being freely elected. I'd like to see the vast majority of Republicans drop off the face of the planet because they don't care for people like me. I'd like to see the Democrats who got bought and sold by the insurance companies during the healthcare bill and destroyed the public option be taken out and be outcast from forever holding office again. As far as being an American is concerned, it wouldn't be pragmatic of me to be a Green or a Socialist. This damned country is too center right and corporate to ever allow something like this to to happen. And yes, Sarah Plain, Dick Cheney and Rush Limbaught are the anti-Christ as far as I'm concerned. Hey Sarah, have you taken a peek at any of the Who's Nailin' Paylin porno films yet?
With the way things are going, there is going to someday be a class war in this country that is going to get violent on a large scale. It's coming. You can count on it.
If I didn't suffer from this damned IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), I would very seriously consider expatriating myself from the United States and live in The Netherlands, Germany or possibly Spain. I'd even consider Southern France. But it won't happen until a cure is found. I doubt that it will happen in my lifetime. I'd have to consider Canada as well. Who knows? Maybe I'm too entrenched in being an American to actually do it?
Would all of this finally get me a girlfriend? I just don't know. I hate freakish people of many forms. I call myself open-minded and yet I'm a lot more conservative in some regards in that there are certain comfort zones I need to be in. I hate piercings and huge tattoos. I also hate people who have to many animals than they can handle in their households, sloppy people, etc.
Where am I going to end up someday? Am I going to stay in Oregon or will I go back to California. Will I end up in Nevada? Where am I going to live?
Am I going to be safe? Am I going to be financially secure? Will I have a lawyer/financial advisor to make sure I don't screw up on my bills and my taxes? Will someone introduce me to a woman instead of having these occasional Adult Friend Finder women strangers asking to be my friend through my Facebook page? I don't trust those Adult Friend Finder women. They are looking for money, a sperm donor or looking to put the hit on my place to take things from me.
I have my days where I feel like I'm speaking face to face with people intelligently. There are other days where my confidence is such that I fell like a complet idiot. With my IBS, I have days where I'm so fucking tired that I can barely function. I really miss eating food like I did in the old days. Do you know how badly I'd love to eat hot dogs again, for instance?
Can I meet a woman I'm attracted to who could tell me that I am worthy of the sexual feelings I have and that they will be fulfilled by her? Can I have times where she can hold me and tell me that these past 42 years can start being put behind me because she is right there?
Will the stress of my relationship with my brothers finally go away? You don't get to choose your family and I thrive on being told literally that I'm loved. I have been enduring this for about 30 years. This has worn me down as well. I want my independence when Mom dies so that we don't have to deal with each other anymore so that they can't be mad at me from then on. They can stay mad at me for things in the past if they choose. I just want to move on. I want to live in peace.
Where has everybody gone?
This is my State of Disarray address during these uncertain times. I continue to be carried by the love of my Mom and my dog. Music keeps me together. My dream of female companionship stays with me although I think things are bleak. I have the faith of knowing I have Angels surrounding me. I guess I'm carrying on, but I'm really tired.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Eugene Playlist: 1970-1972 KEED Part 5
I wanted to start getting back into the swing of things by spending just a little bit of time jotting down more of my Eugene Playlist of things I was hearing on the radio when I was living here in Eugene from 1970-1972 before I turn in for the night.
-Grand Funk Railroad-"Footstompin' Music"-I'm trying to recall if I also heard the single edit of "I'm Your Captain" from 1970 as well during this time. I'm really fuzzy on this. I had to have heard it at least a few times. I can say, without question, that I heard "Footstompin' Music". This one always got my blood going quite nicely. They were a basic band out to show people a good time back then.
-Ozark Mountain Daredevils-"If You Want To Get To Heaven"-I really enjoyed this one. I always dug the harmonica line.
-Don McClean-"Castles In The Air", "American Pie"-I dearly love both songs. The former really struck me in how sincere McClean's delivery was in convincing people that he hated the city way of life. The part I identified with, however, was the yearning for being with a woman he could be compatable with. "American Pie" is an institution unto itself. The song became a fabric of our lives.
-Roberta Flack-"The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"-I grew up on the single edit and it took me years to realize that htere was a longer version of the song. But let me tell you! Impact, you say? And then some would be my answer. This was another case of a Soul artist making a case for depth. I am so incredibly grateful to her for choosing this song (hers is not the original version, but it is the one that everybody remembers) to sing and release as a single. Listening to a song such as this made me aware of the magnitude that love can create for two people in love. This song also made me grow on a personal level even at this young age. Roberta would nail me again a few more times when I moved back to California.
-The Dramatics-"Whatcha See Is What You Get", "In The Rain"-What a great groove "Whatcha See Is What You Get" had. "In The Rain" really hit me. I loved the production on it.
-Barry White/Love Unlimited Orchestra-"Walking In The Rain"-This was my first exposure to Barry White. It was certainly not going to be my last. Not a lot of people remember this great one where Barry only makes a vocal appearance as the phone caller in the song. God! The production values that White would employ on his other hits was most certainly in evidence here already.
-Joe Simon-"Drowning In The Sea Of Love"-Oh yeah! I really dug this one. Plus, his voice knocked me out as well.
-Rare Earth-"Get Ready", "Celebrate" and "I'm Losing You"-These guys were a multi-racial group (if I'm recalling correctly) signed to Motown. I only grew up on the single edits of these songs. The long version of "Get Ready" is a true groover.
-Joe Tex-"I Gotcha"-This song rarely failed to make me crack up a little bit whenever I listened to it and sang along. His attitude was just so infectious that you had to smile.
-Rita Coolidge-"Easy Beside Me"-I think that's what this single was titled. This song has an almost mythical status with me because it really made me blue in the horny way. Her singing voice is what got to me. It was the first time I wished I could be next to her and she was singing this song to me and holding me up to her breasts. Yes, I really had thoughts like this back then. I chuckle when I think about this now.
-Brewer & Shipley-"One Toke Over The Line"-This is a great song. Yes, it's about marijuana. But so what? I have a very fond memory of this song that I will relate to you when I talk about my early baseball experiences one of these times.
-Marilyn McCoo-"Wedding Bell Blues"-As if my crushes on women weren't bad enough! I didn't need a wedding song to help get me going and being a pest too. LOL!
-Cymarron-"Rings": Oh Good God, do I love this song! What a wonderful little single. It has such beautiful sentiment attached to it. In the end, there's another wedding ceremony attached to it as well. I still love how the members of Cymarron sing the line "got James Taylor on stereo" in this version while Lobo (who would do a cover version of this song later on) sang "got Jim Croce on stereo".
-The Staple Singers-"I'll Take You There"-Let me tell you something. This song carries every bit of relevence about race relations now as it did back when I first heard this song. I also took this song to heart as one of my anthems concerning a lot of things. I think I also may have heard "Respect Yourself" when I was living up here to, but this was the one which got huge airplay. It was a massive hit and it deserved being one. They would absolutely nail me once again when I moved back to California with a song that I consider my favorite from them.
-Lou Rawls-"A Natural Man"-I totally identified with the idea that it was o.k. to have an identity of your own and that you could live your life with respect and in any way you desired. Lou was just so cool. He would also nail me again later in the '70s and when I was expanding my album vocabulary later on as well.
-Redbone-"Witch Queen of New Orleans"-I loved the production of this and the atmosphere it created. When I moved back to Santa Clara, they would hit me with a song that I consider one of the defining singles of the decade.
-Melanie-"Brand New Key"-She drew me in. Her voice fascinated me.
-Dave Edmunds-"I Hear You Knockin'"-This is one of the first singles I got exposed to when I moved up here. It showed me that Roots Rock and heavy reverb still existed. Plus, it had plenty of hurt attitude that snarled.
-The Dells-"The Love We Had (Stays On My Mind)"-This one went deep into my heart. It is sung with so much feeling that it practically hurts. The production on this is outstanding. It is every bit as dramtic as the song needs to be.
-Paul Revere & the Raiders-"Indian Reservation"-This is one of the defining songs of the early '70's. It planted a seed in my mind of having respect for Native Americans. Those of you who recall this song should know that this is not the original version. This is a cover. It is proud and it is defiant.
-"Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again"-I can't remember who did this marvelous song. The orchestration just kills me. When I hear this today, it takes me back to how excited I was whenever this thing came on the radio back then.
More to come when time permits and I'm not too tired. I have new neighbors next door to me (renters) and I don't know how it's going to work out yet. This may affect how often I post for a while.
-Grand Funk Railroad-"Footstompin' Music"-I'm trying to recall if I also heard the single edit of "I'm Your Captain" from 1970 as well during this time. I'm really fuzzy on this. I had to have heard it at least a few times. I can say, without question, that I heard "Footstompin' Music". This one always got my blood going quite nicely. They were a basic band out to show people a good time back then.
-Ozark Mountain Daredevils-"If You Want To Get To Heaven"-I really enjoyed this one. I always dug the harmonica line.
-Don McClean-"Castles In The Air", "American Pie"-I dearly love both songs. The former really struck me in how sincere McClean's delivery was in convincing people that he hated the city way of life. The part I identified with, however, was the yearning for being with a woman he could be compatable with. "American Pie" is an institution unto itself. The song became a fabric of our lives.
-Roberta Flack-"The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"-I grew up on the single edit and it took me years to realize that htere was a longer version of the song. But let me tell you! Impact, you say? And then some would be my answer. This was another case of a Soul artist making a case for depth. I am so incredibly grateful to her for choosing this song (hers is not the original version, but it is the one that everybody remembers) to sing and release as a single. Listening to a song such as this made me aware of the magnitude that love can create for two people in love. This song also made me grow on a personal level even at this young age. Roberta would nail me again a few more times when I moved back to California.
-The Dramatics-"Whatcha See Is What You Get", "In The Rain"-What a great groove "Whatcha See Is What You Get" had. "In The Rain" really hit me. I loved the production on it.
-Barry White/Love Unlimited Orchestra-"Walking In The Rain"-This was my first exposure to Barry White. It was certainly not going to be my last. Not a lot of people remember this great one where Barry only makes a vocal appearance as the phone caller in the song. God! The production values that White would employ on his other hits was most certainly in evidence here already.
-Joe Simon-"Drowning In The Sea Of Love"-Oh yeah! I really dug this one. Plus, his voice knocked me out as well.
-Rare Earth-"Get Ready", "Celebrate" and "I'm Losing You"-These guys were a multi-racial group (if I'm recalling correctly) signed to Motown. I only grew up on the single edits of these songs. The long version of "Get Ready" is a true groover.
-Joe Tex-"I Gotcha"-This song rarely failed to make me crack up a little bit whenever I listened to it and sang along. His attitude was just so infectious that you had to smile.
-Rita Coolidge-"Easy Beside Me"-I think that's what this single was titled. This song has an almost mythical status with me because it really made me blue in the horny way. Her singing voice is what got to me. It was the first time I wished I could be next to her and she was singing this song to me and holding me up to her breasts. Yes, I really had thoughts like this back then. I chuckle when I think about this now.
-Brewer & Shipley-"One Toke Over The Line"-This is a great song. Yes, it's about marijuana. But so what? I have a very fond memory of this song that I will relate to you when I talk about my early baseball experiences one of these times.
-Marilyn McCoo-"Wedding Bell Blues"-As if my crushes on women weren't bad enough! I didn't need a wedding song to help get me going and being a pest too. LOL!
-Cymarron-"Rings": Oh Good God, do I love this song! What a wonderful little single. It has such beautiful sentiment attached to it. In the end, there's another wedding ceremony attached to it as well. I still love how the members of Cymarron sing the line "got James Taylor on stereo" in this version while Lobo (who would do a cover version of this song later on) sang "got Jim Croce on stereo".
-The Staple Singers-"I'll Take You There"-Let me tell you something. This song carries every bit of relevence about race relations now as it did back when I first heard this song. I also took this song to heart as one of my anthems concerning a lot of things. I think I also may have heard "Respect Yourself" when I was living up here to, but this was the one which got huge airplay. It was a massive hit and it deserved being one. They would absolutely nail me once again when I moved back to California with a song that I consider my favorite from them.
-Lou Rawls-"A Natural Man"-I totally identified with the idea that it was o.k. to have an identity of your own and that you could live your life with respect and in any way you desired. Lou was just so cool. He would also nail me again later in the '70s and when I was expanding my album vocabulary later on as well.
-Redbone-"Witch Queen of New Orleans"-I loved the production of this and the atmosphere it created. When I moved back to Santa Clara, they would hit me with a song that I consider one of the defining singles of the decade.
-Melanie-"Brand New Key"-She drew me in. Her voice fascinated me.
-Dave Edmunds-"I Hear You Knockin'"-This is one of the first singles I got exposed to when I moved up here. It showed me that Roots Rock and heavy reverb still existed. Plus, it had plenty of hurt attitude that snarled.
-The Dells-"The Love We Had (Stays On My Mind)"-This one went deep into my heart. It is sung with so much feeling that it practically hurts. The production on this is outstanding. It is every bit as dramtic as the song needs to be.
-Paul Revere & the Raiders-"Indian Reservation"-This is one of the defining songs of the early '70's. It planted a seed in my mind of having respect for Native Americans. Those of you who recall this song should know that this is not the original version. This is a cover. It is proud and it is defiant.
-"Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again"-I can't remember who did this marvelous song. The orchestration just kills me. When I hear this today, it takes me back to how excited I was whenever this thing came on the radio back then.
More to come when time permits and I'm not too tired. I have new neighbors next door to me (renters) and I don't know how it's going to work out yet. This may affect how often I post for a while.
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