Category Archives: obit

RIP: Pete Seeger (1919-2014)

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Folk great Pete Seeger passed away today, ideally peacefully, at the age of 94.

Seeger might not be thought of as a rocker, but he represented the spirit and attitude that any serious musician–or artist, for that matter–held and spoke, unashamedly about any cause.

Seeger was a founding member of the Weavers–who recorded probably had their biggest hit in the 50’s with Goodnight Irene by Lead Belly–some of whom were blacklisted during the McCarthy era for their beliefs.

However, in the 60’s, with the emergence of Bob Dyan, Joan Baez, and Peter, Paul, and Mary, Seeger found company and even a mentor-ship as his songs If I Had a Hammer, Waist Deep in the Big Muddy, and Turn! Turn! Turn! found their way to radio play.

Seeger, who played with Woody Guthrie as well as Lead Belly (with whom he co-wrote So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You along with fellow activist and musician, Lee Hays) was a pioneer in roots recording, and equally important, the Civil Rights Movement that grabbed hold in the 60’s, and is really still going on.

Seeger was a great gentleman by all accounts, and a man dedicated to humanity and equality and freedom for all human beings: something I like to think all artists, and especially rockers, strive for.

But, in thinking about Seeger, I could not help but think of the clip of him in Martin Scorsese’s fabulous American Masters documentary about Bob Dylan, No Direction Home.

Seeger is so sweet and perplexed and definite about wanting the cables to the electric guitars of Mike Bloomfield and Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, in 1965, that it is funny to think how we all as human beings have our limits and adjustments.

For, Seeger was indeed a progressive politically. And, as a guy who quit the Weavers because they had signed an agreement to perform a cigarette jingle, he was certainly principled. But, I guess some progress, like cranked up Mike Bloomfield blues licks were hard to take for a middle-aged banjo player.

The world was a better place with, and because of Pete Seeger. And, it is sadder with him gone.

I did try to find the clip from No Direction Home, but couldn’t (although I highly recommend the movie and soundtrack) but, I did find this lovely clip of Seeger performing Dylan’s Forever Young.

And, well, remember, attitude does not have to be in-your-face Ted Nugent. A quiet message is always the most powerful, and Seeger was the purveyor of just that.

 

Obit: Ronnie Biggs

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A footnote in England’s Great Train Robbery, he was engaged to hire a train engineer to move the train forward to the unloading point and he hired an old guy named Pops who didn’t know how to operate the train, Biggs was captured because his fingerprint was found in the hideout on a catsup bottle. Biggs was also responsible for coshing the train’s original engineer on the head, and then forcing him to move the train forward himself while bleeding. The engineer died six years later, having never completely recovered.

A couple years later Biggs broke out of jail, and later ended up in Brazil, making money by hosting British tourists in his home for dinner. Which somehow led to a connection with Julian Temple, who was making his documentary the Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle, the story of the Sex Pistols from Malcolm McLaren’s perspective. Great Train Roberry = Great R’n’R Swindle, leads to this (with Biggs on Vocals, Cook and Jones doing what they do, and apparently a random exiled Nazi playing bass):

Biggs died in England a couple of weeks ago.

RIP: Peter O’Toole (1932-2013)

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220px-Peter_O'Toole_--_LOA_trailerDiane just advised me that the wonderful British actor, Peter O’Toole has passed away.

I get this is a rock’n’roll site–or at least largely a music site–but often music and film are inexorably linked.

Although, I must admit, not so much in O’Toole’s case.

It is more of a case that his face is as iconic as the roles he played.

Among those films of his I love:

Lawrence of Arabia (1962): O’Toole’s mesmerizing film debut (also Omar Sharif’s) was in arguably one of the greatest cinematic achievements ever. I think the first half of this film is as fine a piece of film making–as in script, photography, acting, and music–as has ever been assembled.

The Lion in Winter (1968): Incomparable historical piece with O’Toole as Henry II to Katherine Hepburn’s Elanor of Aquitaine, with a witty and intelligent a script that allow the brilliance of the actors to shine (this time Anthony Hopkins made his film debut).

The Ruling Class (1972): As dark as dark and funny can get, O’Toole plays the mad 14th Earl of Gurney. O’Toole thinks he is Jesus (he has a big wooden cross on which he roosts from time-to-time) although he likes to be referred to as either “Bert” or “JC,” though his given name is Jack. The catch is his relatives want to seize the assets that are Bert’s, but in order to do that, he has to be declared insane and a threat. So, they marry him off to his uncle’s mistress so they can have a child/heir, and thus simplify the insanity process. Of course nothing  goes according to plot, but ultimately Jack is forced to jettison his loving and happy-go-lucky Jesus alter ego, and assumes that of another Jack, as in The Ripper.

The Stunt Man (1980): O’Toole as an autocratic film director who pushes a walk on stunt man (Steve Railsback), who is on the run from the law, into going further and further on a limb with the stunts. O’Toole is great at this–roles on the verge of losing it–and this film is no exception. Also filmed around the lovely Hotel Del Coronado, in San Diego, where Some Like it Hot was also largely set.

My Favorite Year (1982): A lovely sentimental comedy about TV in the 50’s, ostensibly based upon Mel Brooks’ early days writing for Sid Caesar and his Show of Shows. O’Toole plays Allan Swann, an Errol Flynn-like swashbuckling star of the 30’s who can still give women wobbly knees. He accepts a role on a TV show in order to earn some extra moolah and even himself out with the IRS.  This movie, directed by comedian Richard Benjamin, is as sweet as they come.

Amazingly, O’Toole was nominated for the Oscar for all five of the above (I did not realize that when I picked them as my faves as I was thinking about it) and had a total of eight nominations (also Becket, Goodbye Mr. Chips, and Venus), but never actually won for those films. Rather, he did get a lifetime achievement award from the Academy in 2003.

Night Music: Cream, “Tales of Brave Ulysses”

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10251Martin Sharp, the designer of the covers of Cream’s albums Disreali Gears and Wheels of Fire, died this week. There’s a nice overview of his psychedelic work here.

Which seems like a good reason to play another bit from Cream, from Disraeli Gears.

I was turning 11 I guess and it was my birthday and a friend’s mother asked what I wanted. I said, “I’d like the album Disraeli Gears,” and she said, in a Monty Python old biddy’s voice I hear it now, “oh, my, an album. That’s a little too expensive,” apparently thinking an “album” was a box of records. My friend set her straight and that’s what they gave me. Good present.

My good buddy Jimmy A. and I loved Jack Bruce’s singing on this one, which was written by Clapton and, surprise, Martin Sharp. The only problem is it isn’t long enough.

Here’s a video of the making of the song, with interviews with Clapton and Sharp.

RIP: Lou Reed

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Bear with me a moment.

I went to see Antony and the Johnsons the first time, at the Knitting Factory in Tribeca, because Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson were working with him and pumping Antony and his band up. It was a fantastic show and I immediately sent off for his first album.

This isn’t about Antony, so I’ll just say that I quickly became a fan. Coincidentally, so did my friends Jane and Pete, so when the Johnsons played Bowery Ballroom some time later we went. And when tickets were some time later again went on sale for a show at Carnegie Hall Pete was at the front of the line. A group of us, about eight or so, ended up in the seventh row middle. The seats were so good that David Bowie was in our row, and Lou and Laurie were sitting a few rows behind. When Bowie showed up Lou greeted him and they kissed on the lips. It was lovely.

The opening band was the McCulloch Sons of Thunder, a trombone band from a school in Harlem that played raucous praise music. The second performer was the incredibly frail at that point contralto Little Jimmy Scott, who was wonderful, a walking bit of history still with great instincts. And then Antony and the Johnsons played songs from the great first album and the most excellent second album, which features a photo of Candy Darling on the cover.

All of this prelude leads to this. For an encore, the ultimate one I think, Lou Reed took the stage wearing leather pants and a leather jacket. He looked lean and taut, yet way craggy, and the band played Candy Says, Lou’s great song about Candy Darling from The Velvet Underground’s eponymous elpee. Lou turned his back to the audience and played an extended solo that started simple and pretty and built into something hard and coruscating. Watching his posture and his arms and his legs but not his fingers, watching him facing Antony, who makes such pretty and heartbreaking music, watching him building this overpowering guitar solo seemingly by force of will alone, was an act of love, a sharing of the power of music and grief and the incredible obligation and opportunity that is the act of living. It was a moment of grandeur and pure passion that is perhaps unmatched in my life lived with art.

This clip of the two performing the song is from a different more casual show, and significantly lacks the guitar solo. But it is a lovely piece that comes together at the end and Lou demonstrates that same power of love, in a much simpler way.