The Albums That Changed My Life (Part One)
Taking a Look At Decades of Records, With Gratitude, That Began A Lifelong Love Affair With Music
When I think about it, words fail to express my gratitude. Through many decades of living, Music has been the safe harbor, my best friend, the faithful lover, the perfect relationship, and the muse that sparked a lifelong interest in drumming and moved me out of social isolation into engagement with people.
A world without music, for me, would literally be a world not worth living in.
It’s the thread that has connected my life, and I imagine, was, and remains, the salvation of hope for myself and many people.
Hopefully, this doesn’t come across as a “top ten list”, those are annoying and ubiquitous, and in my humble opinion, a bit trite, with too much emphasis on “Good, Better Best” frameworks of presentation.
Music, ideally, isn’t a competition, it’s an artistic and spiritual offering that is shared.
Frankly, we all need a respite for our sanity and mental health, especially in these times, something music has provided for decades without asking anything in return.
With that said, time to dive in:
The Beatles: Meet The Beatles !
In November of 1963, the first major psychological shock to the American psyche happened after a respite of many years. The reverberations of World War II were still prevalent in my parent’s generation, but the assassination of President John F. Kennedy seemed to rock the world in a way that past events had not. At least for kids like myself, it was an introduction, albeit harsh, to the realities of life. My first awareness there was a collective consciousness. Since the end of the war, and through the 1950s, America, for the most part, was largely living a life of safety and prosperity.
The Beatle’s music and touring presence were as much spiritual salvation as it was a “pop” phenomenon, or the first wave of an “invasion”, an overused militaristic analogy abused by the press of the time. The historical juncture was that America was poised between the assassination of a popular President, the end of a hot war, the beginning of a cold war with the U.S.S.R., and the beginning of escalating involvement in another hot war: Viet Nam.
Fate, somehow, intervened and put together four of the most talented individual and collective musicians ever to record and perform, to this day, a true miracle in my book.
Seeing the image of the cover with the stark monochromatic headshots, and unsmiling “lads from Liverpool”, you wouldn’t think of optimism, but the first burst of pure unadulterated joy awaited anyone fortunate enough to have a portable record player and a copy of the 12-inch vinyl recording. LPs were, in my household, quite expensive, so the gratitude I have for my parents making the economic sacrifice is boundless.
The hiss of Ringo Starr’s hi-hat cymbals, despite the lack of true fidelity from a raspy monophonic speaker, grabbed my attention and embedded itself in my consciousness, along with the incendiary burst of amplified guitars and ethereal vocal harmonies. The songs were just a spark, not the fire, the promise of what was to come, and in a few short years that would become apparent to the entire world.
In the meantime, The Beatles liberated a culture immersed in grief and uncertainty and allowed them to dance, and promised joy and hope. Millions of drummers of all skill levels were moved to “be like Ringo.” Richard Starkey’s impact on unleashing inspiration for a yet unformed drumming community can’t be underestimated, and his influence continues to this day. One of my starkest memories is seeing neighborhood kids, in spontaneous moments, gathering in front of bedroom mirrors with imaginary guitars, or with “Drums and Guitars” formed out of cardboard, standing on the imaginary “stage” of their front porches, singing “I Want To Hold Your Hand” at the top of their lungs. The Alpha point of a cultural phenomenon. The news was everywhere decades before social media existed.
Iron Butterfly: In-A Gadda-A-Vida
O.K. I have mixed feelings on this one.
In 1969 I was transfixed, at a 6th-grade end-of-school-year party in Richmond, Va., standing on the porch of a classmate who hosted the party and hearing the title track blasting on her parent’s console stereo. It was the deepest Bass I had ever heard in my life until then. The drums/solo by Ron Bushy sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. The tribal tom-toms became the focus, with special “phased” effects that made them sound like they were coming from another dimension. It was like a shaman calling out an ancient spirit.
Inspired, I begged my parents for a higher-end stereo that had better fidelity, and they graciously made my wish come true some months later on my birthday as I entered 7th grade.
The magnum opus title track is the center of this uneven album, but for me, maybe, more importantly, it was the nexus of two larger events: 1) It took rock drumming in an entirely new direction by introducing the long-form song/drum solo 2) It was the first record I owned in which I had a playback system with actual treble and bass controls, thus, achieving “fidelity”.
Why the mixed feeling then?
Well, as with all trends of any era, Pop and Rock music can become dated, and certainly, the songs that filled the rest of IAGDV were almost afterthoughts in comparison to the extended track that took up all of Side Two in the vinyl format.
So, it’s a bit embarrassing to hear offerings like “Flowers and Beads” and “Are You Happy”, but, again, these are a reflection of the times. The quartet of Doug Ingle on organ, Lee Dorman on Bass, Erik Brann on guitar, and Ron Bushy on drums were certainly talented musicians, likely at the whims of the developing record industry. In comparison to today, as Frank Zappa once said, the cigar-chomping middle-aged record executives took FAR more chances then than they do now, where every move is scrutinized and maximized for profit. I would bet my life this was the case with Iron Butterfly. An open mind was essential.
Thus, light Pop/Rock fare like “Beads” and “Happy” are intermixed with the dark, tribal vibes of “My Mirage” and “Termination” that infer an ominous, tripped-out vision that set up the mood of IAGDV.
It can’t be over-emphasized how revolutionary it was at the time to let a band off the 3-minute pop song leash, formatted to accommodate AM radio, and allow them to go off the rails improvising.
Unfortunately, unlike Ringo, Ron Bushy is not a household name, but he should be, and the definitive influence he left with this notable contribution is undeniable. ( I love that Sina performs the iconic solo (6:30 in) and improvises off the original, instead of playing it note for note which, I suppose, is the point!)
Listen to the original IAGDV here.
James Gang: Rides Again
Wow. Just seeing the cover of this iconic James Gang record evokes not only strong memories but thoughts and feelings. So long ago, yet so fresh, that first needle drop.
I ordered it through "Record Club Of America" a rather cheesy, dubious operation (unlike the "upscale" Columbia Record Club) that might send you vinyl, the covers missing shrink wrap and dirty, sometimes scarred, with round record-shaped imprinted covers. No matter. Once I heard that glorious electric guitar peeling out the opening riff to "Funk 49" and continuing through "Asshtonpark", "Woman" and the stunning "The Bomber", (with its divided sections, like a symphonic rock piece) I was playing it non stop.
In my opinion, it's essential listening.
While ZZ Top was also coalescing, this was the opening salvo of shots fired by the Rock "Power" trio. Soon to follow with a big imprint: Grand Funk Railroad, ZZ Top, Dust, etc. I'm not saying the James Gang opened the door for this sound exclusively, but they made a bigger noise in helping to do so. But they were NOT just about volume.
Side Two: A HUGE surprise: It wasn't just volume that the James Gang was about, as Side Two features some of the most beautiful, sublime, songs written, a direction Joe Walsh was taking early on. It would, unfortunately, lead to the demise of the band a short time later. The strings in "Ashes, The Rain, and I” are stunning by any musical genre standards, the song itself, and the string arrangement, are derivative of, and make as much of an impact as The Beatle’s "Eleanor Rigby".
This funky, poly-rhythmic interplay of Dale Peters on Bass with his beautiful, deep, funk-rock basslines, (did they invent that sound?) and Jimmy Fox's muscle-bound yet fluid drums are the glue that made the James Gang stand out.
A seminal record, well recorded and produced.
Listen To James Gang Rides Again here.
Crosby, Stills And Nash /David Crosby: If I Could Only Remember My Name
This is a twofer of sorts because, chronologically speaking, these records weren’t separated by immensely long time periods. For me, they merged together in my ability to borrow or acquire them, and do proper listening.
The late 60s and early 70s were a troubled time, as, musically speaking, The Beatles were finishing up their last collaborative efforts, and many people felt like there was nothing that could replace their amazing harmonies and genius-level output.
Arguably, you could say that Crosby, Stills, and Nash, a newly minted “supergroup” of former members of The Byrds, The Buffalo Springfield, and The Hollies, (respectively) were a demonstration of being able to turn the tragedy of breakup into the triumph of birthing something entirely new, yet, steeped in influences and tradition of the old. There is no doubt that The Beatles influenced CSN, The Beach Boys, The Byrds, etc., and vice versa. It was a friendly competition not driven by profit but motivated by inspiration and artistry.
For me, CSN was how I learned to sing, or at least understand harmony. Even if it was through leaning in hard to the speaker and intensely listening, and not being entirely sure what the low, middle, and high parts were, I got enough of an idea. I remember attending a weekend youth retreat, where we stayed in dormitories. Another attendee had brought in a MASSIVE stereo and a load of the popular 8-track tapes of the time, with “Crosby Stills And Nash” among them. I spent every second of my free time parked in front of the giant speakers, so large they could have been in a recording studio, absorbing that record. I suppose sitting still and listening is a lost art form itself.
In my view, CSN is a PERFECT record, that is, all the songs are gems, and the “flow” of the record feels like a journey of sorts. The harmonies are not of this earth, literally, hearing these three people put vocal harmonies together gives one multiple “goosebumps” moments. The brilliant studio wizardry and talent of Stephen Stills, who covers all instruments except drums, can’t be underestimated here. Stills, in effect, was “the band”. CSN gives The incredible harmonies of The Beatles on Abbey Road a run for their money.
Listen to “Crosby Stills And Nash here.
Despite the phenomenal success of “Crosby Stills and Nash” tragedy was to befall David Crosby when his girlfriend, Christine Hinton died in an auto accident and his world collapsed. At the time, no one knew this, there were no social media to invade people's privacy. Also at that time I was the “new kid on the block” having moved to a new town and spent a lot of time in isolation. So while I was not aware of adult emotions and motivations, I felt some pain in my own sense. The loneliness was the same. I remember my grandmother gifting me some birthday money in the Fall of 1971, and on a shopping trip to a local mall, I heard the eeriest, incredibly beautiful, ethereal sound coming from the music store.
The owner, like many who owned and operated physical record stores, would use an in-store sound system to market records. Direct from the record company to your ears. No pressure sales. I followed the sound into the store and inquired about what I was hearing, and the owner told me it was the new David Crosby record. This is what was playing.
I took my precious money and invested in two records, one of which was IICORMN. I was transfixed, played it endlessly, and wore the grooves out. Although I wasn’t nearly sophisticated enough intellectually to understand Crosby’s personal and artistic motivations, I felt that the songs, and the haunting spiritual quality of the record, were like manna from heaven for the lonely. That is, I felt Crosby’s pain and longing for healing from his loneliness even though I had no idea of the circumstances or the tragedy that inspired the album to begin with.
The guests that helped Crosby on this record were huge names, all of his former bandmates, Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart of The Grateful Dead, Paul Kanter, and Grace Slick of the Jefferson Airplane, and his ex-girlfriend and muse, Joni Mitchell. I had an opportunity on Crosby’s Twitter account to comment on one of my favorite tracks “Laughing” (written for George Harrison) saying it sounded like the song literally floated in from a spiritual dimension and grounded itself on earth. Crosby gave it a like. Full circle.
Listen to the isolated vocal part Joni Mitchell contributed, short, but a contribution that certainly transformed the song, along with the lonely wailing steel guitar played by Jerry Garcia. Garcia rarely played any steel guitar after this moment.
Johnny Winter: Live Johnny Winter And /Edgar Winter’s White Trash: Roadwork
This was another pivotal moment for a young teenager as I was spinning the dial of my Mom’s borrowed FM table radio searching the exciting sounds emanating from WOWI FM. Another goosebump moment when I heard The Rolling Stone’s iconic “Jumping Jack Flash,” updated to a faster tempo with the guitars unabashedly louder, harder, and faster, yet played with precision, all stamped with the guttural, take no prisoners vocal style of Johnny Winter. When he yelled, it was as if it came from the most powerful parts of the depths of the Rock and Roll universe. The band that backs up Winter here, Bobby Caldwell on drums, Rick Derringer on guitar, and Randy Jo Hobbs on the bass area one-of-a-kind powerhouse. They were a short-lived lineup, but a powerful one that left a mark and took no prisoners. The lead solos spoke volumes beyond what you heard and the notes that were played.
I suppose the most important thing, which escaped me at the time, was Winter’s unabashed love for the Blues. Again, I was far too young and intellectually unsophisticated to understand that everything we knew as Rock and Roll was derived from Blues, and Rhythm and Blues artists, who had toiled away without money and recognition for years. Yet, I was attracted to the “slow” Blues stylings of Winter and introduced for the first time to Blues music, with only a vague notion of B.B. King. Effectively, Live Johnny Winter And brought me to the Blues Universe. This incredible long-form version of “It’s My Own Fault,” unedited, is a treasure, as it showcases the same incredible lineup.
Listen to a rare extended version of “Live Johnny Winter And” here.
Back in the day, you heard music either by chance, on the radio, or through a friend, via word of mouth. There were no options and no algorithms to help you in your quest. One year after my discovery of Johnny Winter in 1971, in the Summer of 1972, my friends Jim and Bill, returning from Summer vacation excitedly put on a record they had discovered and borrowed from their talented musical cousins while on Summer vacation.
The opening salvo of guitar from Edgar Winter’s White Trash sounded at once familiar, but different in the sense that the band was fleshed out with horns, which seemed to amplify the energy even more. It was clear that Johnny and Edgar Winter had achieved the miraculous, by forcing open the door of Rock and Pop music and introducing young music fans of the era to the best traditions that were part of American musical history. The Winter Brothers, with help from the high octane-fueled performances of their bandmates, made the Blues come alive. It would take a few years, but I eventually was able to discover B.B. King, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Muddy Waters Et al.
Thanks for indulging me with what I feel is a true passion, and allowing me to expound a bit on these records.
More to come, stay tuned.