Ruben "Hurricane" Carter Passes

Rubin "Hurricane" Carter

The Story: Hirsch, James (2000) 
Hurricane: The Miraculous Journey of Rubin Carter
New York: Houghton Mifflin Company

The Song:
Bob Dylan lays this travesty of justice raw
during The Rolling Thunder Revue Tour
with his song Hurricane, from the album Desire (1975).
(Above is an alternate master.)

From the Wikipedia Contributors: "Rubin 'Hurricane' Carter (May 6, 1937 – April 20, 2014) was an American middleweight boxer who was convicted of murder and later freed via a petition of habeas corpus after spending almost 20 years in prison."

Rubin Carter, Requiescat in Pace.

An Event that Changed America on April 4, 1968: "Shot rings out in the Memphis sky"

At 6:01 p.m., April 4, 1968, a shot rang out as [Reverend Dr. Martin Luther] King stood on the second-floor balcony of the [Memphis motel where he was staying while he supported] black sanitary public works employees ... who had been on strike since March 12 for higher wages, [pay equity with white employees] and better treatment. From the Wikipedia Contributors on Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Reverend King was assassinated on April 4, 1968, on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee -- the wreath marks the spot where King fell, mortally wounded. 

___________________________________________

One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One man come, he to justify
One man to overthrow

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resist
One man washed on an empty beach.
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

(nobody like you...)

Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love 
...
(U2, Pride (In the Name of Love), The Unforgettable Fire (1984)

Genre Pioneer Pete Seeger Passes on to His Reward

Pete Seeger in 2007 (photo by Anthony Pepitone)

Folk legend Pete Seeger passed away yesterday. As one of my blogger mentors covered Seeger's passing so well, I pass it on here. 

See https://www.facebook.com/EchoesInTheWind/posts/10201455913622155

Pete, Requiescat in Pace.

Jimi Hendrix Would Turn 71 Today

I rewatched Jimi Hendrix perform the currently definitive cover of The Star Spangled Banner in the original Woodstock (1970) documentary recently.

I wondered, would the high regard for Jimi's cover hold up over time? My money is on Jimi holding onto the lead regarding the national anthem. He shifted gears and, for those willing to take the ride, will continue to bring war back in a war poem.

Rest in peace, Jimi.

Lou Reed Goes to the Otherside

Lou Reed (1942-2013)

Lou Reed, Velvet Underground Leader and Rock Pioneer, Dead at 71

Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/lou-reed-velvet-underground-leader-and-rock-pioneer-dead-at-71-20131027#ixzz2iwvfk8vG 

I try to focus on genre pioneers 'round here. When it comes to New York City rock 'n' roll, Lou is, was and always will be the man. Requiescat in pace.

"Heaven done called another blues singer back Home."

On this date in 1970, Heaven done called Janis Joplin back Home. Rest in Peace, Janis. 

And thanks.

Remembering Bobby Bland

Bobby "Blue" Bland, one of the most influential blues, soul and R&B singers of our time, passed away this past Sunday at the age of 83.

I first heard the song Stormy Monday performed by The Allman Brothers Band, only discovering Bland's definitive version years later. I thought this track would make a fitting remembrance of this legend in his own time.

Television Pioneer in Movie Criticism Passes: Roger Ebert (1942 - 2013)

In my case, indeed for much of my generation, we grew up watching Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert debate the merits of new films on TV. The last of these two pioneers are now in a movie palace in the sky.

Rest in peace,
Robert Ebert

Hal David, Requiescat in Pace

Burt Bacharach, Dionne Warwick and Hal David

Before I got my first stereo in 1970 at the age of 13 and discovered Top 40 radio pop and rock, my only source of music was my dad's AM radio station of soft pop and too much talk. Of the few songs that grabbed me, most were written by Burt Bacharach and the late Hal David. Dionne Warwick built her career on them. Solid melodies and smart, poetic lyrics saved me until I found rock 'n' roll.

Thanks Hal.

Burt Bacharach (written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David) accompanying Dionne Warwick on 

I Say a Little Prayer

"There But for the Grace of God ..."

by Guest Contributor Barbara Washburn

Grace Slick and Janis Joplin

(photo credit: Jim Marshall)

They were friendly competitors for Queen of the San Francisco rock scene, good friends who didn't take it too seriously. One was beautiful, with a contralto voice, the other, not so much a babe but she had the pipes. She could literally strike two notes at once. Above is a famous photograph of the two of them, taken on a hot San Francisco afternoon. (Another photo from the same photo shoot is available on Amazon as a poster.) Janis is in a hat and heavy coat, Grace in a Girl Scout uniform. Yet rock was still very much a boy's club, and these two felt more like accessories than players.

And then came Monterey in '67. Janis, with her rendition of Ball and Chain slammed her head against that glass ceiling of the boy's club and shattered it.

Once she'd pushed her way through the hole she created, she pulled Grace up, and there they stood, the undisputed Queen and her heir. Rock changed that afternoon in Monterey, but of all the performances recorded, Janis's still blows one away.

Janis left Big Brother; Grace remained with the Jefferson Airplane. It was a huge risk for Janis, going out on her own, both psychologically and professionally. The experience scarred her, but she persevered, there was music to be made, pain to be articulated in a way that wrenched the heart, a boy's club who needed to see her thumb her nose at them.

All too quickly came Woodstock in the summer of 1969. With all the delays, the musicians had to entertain themselves somehow, and Janis drank so much that her manager, Albert Grossman, refused to allow the footage of her performance into the original film; a wonderful Janis segment is included in the extended version of Woodstock. The Airplane, scheduled to go on at nine, came on at six in the morning, spending their time doing so many drugs Grace Slick later said "I don't know how we performed." But she did, with her rendition of White Rabbit sublime in its own way.

Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit (Grace Slick, Woodstock, Aug 17 1969)

Though Grace didn't realize it at the time, she had written and performed the signature song for the slogan "Drugs, Sex, and Rock and Roll." Naturally she had to perform it at Woodstock, what with all the bad acid going around, it was a form of comfort as well as awe. Blitzed out of her mind, drop dead gorgeous, she told them to follow Alice, it would be all right.

It couldn't last much longer after Woodstock, though no one could see it at the time. On the fourth of October, 1970, Janis died. She was in LA, recording her finest album, Pearl, with a band befitting her amazing talent. She'd been clean for awhile, but for whatever reason, she reached out to a dealer, who delivered almost 100% pure heroin. She didn't know that, just as she didn't know she was dying when she went out to the lobby to get change to buy cigarettes. She died after returning to her room, the change and the pack of cigarettes still clutched in her hand.

When asked that day about Janis's death, Grace said "There but for the grace of God go I."

The boy's club had forever gone coed, thanks to these two women. One can still hear Janis's influence in musicians today, from Robert Plant to Debbie Harry and others. Listen to Plant sing. He owes but will never acknowledge a debt to Joplin's vocals.

One can only long for the music Janis would have made, had her personal demons not been so overwhelming. All one has to do is listen to the acoustic version of Me and Bobby McGee to understand why the song's writer Kris Kristofferson said, upon hearing it, "She owns that song now." His tribute to her is on his The Silver Tongued Devil album, entitled Epitaph Black and Blue. There is no more poignant commentary on the price of breaking the glass ceiling and standing there virtually alone.

As for Gracie, she lived, though sometimes one wonders how. Sober now, she's turned her talents to visual art, and they are prodigious talents. Her paintings and drawings of her dead contemporaries are beautiful and insightful. She calls one she did of Janis "Wood Nymph", talking about a side of Janis she saw, the playful little imp. Grace's portrait of Jim Morrison is called "Sacrifice to Morpheus", a look at his dark side. Grace also painted Janis and her in the forest. Her work is a look backwards and an insightful visual commentary. She has no illusions about Woodstock, no romanticized view of it, though she is reverential about Monterey.

It couldn't have lasted, those few years that gave us such great musicians who celebrated drugs, sex, and rock and roll. And it will never come around again, anomaly that it was, for the hangover is too great. Its end began with Altamont, and the door was slammed on it on May 4, 1970, though it took a little perspective to see that. But while it was there, while it was good, oh man, what a trip. And when it decayed, it was inevitable. The reasons are many, take your pick: "suits" who saw dollar signs and signed all these groups to their label, others who exploited the concepts for their own purposes, ala Manson, a world that was growing older and we along with it. Pick one or make up your own.

But out of it came two women, who with unbridled determination, broke that ceiling, burst through the boy's club door, and gave us some incredible music while allowing many more fine female musicians to follow them. Their musical influences still reverberate today, and the legacy of their music will not fade away. In keeping with the yin-yang, the magic both believed in to some extent, one lived and one died. I hardly think the balance was worth it in this case.

Donna Summer, Gone at 63 -- Workin' Hard No Longer

When it displaced, around 1978, rock music as the dominant dance club music -- one evening in the Quarter (New Orleans) of solid Stones in a club preceded the fall and made it all the harder -- disco became and remains a cultural cancer, turning pop music into lyrical drivel in mind-numbing 4/4 time. One exception: a very hot, exceptional artist, sometimes called the queen of the genre, Donna Summer. Cancer took her Thursday; we lost a great pop star.

From The Washington Post's online cover story on the evening of Thursday the 17th:

... In a 1984 assessment of her career, Times pop music critic Robert Palmer wrote that Ms. Summer “made some of the freshest, most substantial dance records of a period noted for its froth and foolishness." ...

In 1983, I was working hard at learning, for quite Machiavellian reasons, the importance of women in the modern worklplace. And there was Donna, giving us an anthem with She Works Hard for the Money that was all over the radio, in the US and Europe. It was one of the few great R&B songs to pierce the armor of the disco faux-label.

Thanks for everything, Donna. Rest in Peace.

The Plane Crash That Robbed Us All

Yesterday was the anniversary of the death, in a plane crash, of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper. In memory, here's one of my favorite Buddy Holly tunes, Not Fade Away.

R.E.M.: Requiem for a Heavyweight Band

I was listening to Lucinda Williams from her 1993 Live at the Filmore (West) yesterday morning early, watching the birds out my back door. I was on one of my reveries, this one about lyrics, Lucinda's Reason to Cry and Fruits of My Labor.

And then the news I'd caught by accident a few days earlier hit home: R.E.M. was gone.

The band announced via its website that as of September 21, 2011, the band would "calling it a day as a band". (Hilton, Robin (September 21, 2011). "R.E.M. Calls It A Day, Announces Breakup" NPR.org.)

A year ago. The end of carrying on since Bill left for his farm in 1997. And all this time I thought they might be hunkered down in a studio. The obits pile up too quickly these days

Think of it this way. We were shiny, happy people in our glory days.

R.E.M. & Kate Pierson rehearse Shiny Happy People - 1991 (for SNL)

And some of us are angry:

Orange Crush (live in Germany, 2003)

And often reflective, as I was sitting yesterday morning, having my coffee and watching the birds in the early morning light.

Nightswimming (Michel Stipe vocals, Mike Mills piano;
Undated, Live in Jool, Netherlands)

Yeah, reflective, like the mood I'm in now. Michael, Peter, Mike and Bill -- to your band R.E.M., Requiescat in Pace.

The E Street Band's "Big Man" Passes On

(top to bottom) Clarence Clemons and Bruce Springsteen

Clarence Clemons, or "Big Man" as Bruce Springsteen used to call across the stage to cue Clarence for one of his trademark sax solos, died last Saturday at 69 due to complications from a stroke. I'm still a bit stunned, so I'm gonna let Clarence tell the story of how he became part of both American cultural and also rock 'n' roll history. While on stage, Bruce often told the story of how he and Clarence met in 1971. Here's the story, retold in various interviews, by Clarence himself:

One night we were playing in Asbury Park. I'd heard The Bruce Springsteen Band was nearby at a club called The Student Prince and on a break between sets I walked over there. On-stage, Bruce used to tell different versions of this story but I'm a Baptist, remember, so this is the truth. A rainy, windy night it was, and when I opened the door the whole thing flew off its hinges and blew away down the street. The band were on-stage, but staring at me framed in the doorway. And maybe that did make Bruce a little nervous because I just said, "I want to play with your band," and he said, "Sure, you do anything you want." The first song we did was an early version of "Spirit In The Night". Bruce and I looked at each other and didn't say anything, we just knew. We knew we were the missing links in each other's lives. He was what I'd been searching for. In one way he was just a scrawny little kid. But he was a visionary. He wanted to follow his dream. So from then on I was part of history.

Rest in Peace, Clarence. You touched more lives than you could have ever known.

John Lennon, 1940 - 1980

Today is the 30th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon near his home in New York City. I still recall quite vividly Yoko's call for 10 minutes of silent prayer the following Sunday. As many did, I spent that Sunday with close friends quietly reflecting on what John had meant both to me and to a world that mourned the tragedy.

John, I hope you've found the peace now that you worked so hard for in life.

Sonic Youth: "Superstar"

I first heard Superstar performed by Rita Coolidge on Mad Dogs and Englishmen (1970), followed by The Carpenters cover, and then Bette Midler's version on her debut album in 1972. Much to my surprise, all these years later, today I received an email from a well-informed friend with a link to Sonic Youth's cover above. Of all the versions I've heard, this is my new favorite.

It's the perfect requiem for Karen Carpenter. Listening to it makes me realize just how much I still miss her.

J. D. Salinger Passes On

This past Wednesday J. D. Salinger died of natural causes at age 90. While I mourn the passing of this great writer, I have a selfish little secret to confess. I've always assumed that while in seclusion these last 50 years, he was still writing and just tucking it away "in the vault." I selfishly hope some of this material, if it exists, is posthumously published. I'm dying to see what he's been working on.

Most importantly though, goodbye Mr. Salinger. You brought me much joy and insight.

Ray Charles: In Tribute

I saw the late Ray Charles live twice -- sequential gigs on a tour in the late seventies. Both show were great, but they couldn't have been more different. The first show was in Mobile, Alabama and Ray was playing to -- what can I call it -- his "commercial" audience. This show was designed to entertain anybody with even the smallest appreciation for his talent. He was playing to a mostly white audience, and entertain he did. He blew me away.

But I didn't know what was to come. The next show was at the New Orleans Performing Arts Center. Here he played a completely different set, this time to take serious jazz fans and blow their socks off. Striped down, improvisational, personal; I was awestruck by both his polished talent as an artist and also charisma as a showman.

I hear the recent film Ray is a good one, but I intentionally haven't seen it. I'm still savoring my memories of those two live show more than a generation ago. Ray, your genius will always live on in my heart and my soul.

Les Paul Passes On

The inventor of the solid body electric guitar, virtuoso Les Paul, died today. I'll be the first to say I owe him a debt of gratitude. Mr. Paul, rest in peace.

Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Woman (Live in Hyde Park 1969)

This YouTube clip is as flawed as the original gig was. But the little glimpse we get of the Stones doing this famous free concert in London in 1969 is worth overlooking those flaws.

Some great clips of the band and the crowd and, most importantly, Mick Taylor -- who had about 12 hours to get ready for the show -- in action with the best Stones lineup ever.

The rock history is of vast importance -- so soak it up Ladies and Gentlemen: The Rolling Stones.