Music has the power to heal. Friends are a blessing. And when you put them together, it can be magical.
On Friday night I went to the heart of downtown Cincinnati, Fountain Square (as seen in the “WKRP in Cincinnati” opening credits) for a free indie rock show. Wussy — proclaimed by Robert Christgau as “the best band in America” — was the headliner, and they lived up to that billing, albeit a bit raggedly. Prior to Wussy, another excellent band called Pike 27 played. Their usual drummer is my friend Dave, who is currently being treated for his second bout with lymphoma. I worked with Dave’s wife Jacqui at an ad agency long ago, and I’ve shared a few of Jacqui’s poignant posts about their journey on her “Nashville or Bust” blog.
Yesterday morning I went on a 9-mile run with my wife, who is training for the New York Marathon, and we saw Jacqui running the other way with another running group. I’m guessing her runs are a bit more meditative and therapeutic than mine.
Last night we went to a fundraiser for Music Resource Center and I met Pike 27’s frontman (also named Dave) and his wife Amy. Dave is friends with my friend Jennifer from my radio days. And Amy is good friends with one of my current co-workers. Amy also had played a key role in Friday night’s concert – iPhone cameraperson. Turns out they were able to broadcast (narrowcast actually) the gig to Jacqui and Dave at their home.
This was our Friday night. And it was pretty spectacular.
You’ve heard me mention Dave’s band, Pike 27, from time to time. They are incredible musicians. They are incredible people. They are part of our family.
And last night — the night of the very much anticipated show on Fountain Square as part of Cincinnati’s MidPoin Indie Summer series — they made sure that Dave didn’t miss out.
It was a last minute idea and probably the most hillbilly way to ‘live cam’ — but we did it! Thanks to iPhones, FaceTime, iCloud and Facebook, we patched in from the dining room table.
Dave had no clue that we were doing this. In fact, he was a bit annoyed when he heard me fussing at my computer and told him to, “get over here — you have to see this!” I think he thought I was watching cat videos or something.
I really wished I had a video camera rolling on him when he saw Amy on my computer screen, waving and smiling, and figured out that she was on Fountain Square. Live. Like there at the show.
The plan was really to watch one or two songs. We didn’t want to burden Amy (who was fighting bronchitis) to wear out her arm holding her phone up all night. But others jumped in and kept the feed going. Then there were the message pictures and the selfies and wow… so much love.
We are humbled by and grateful to all the folks that are Pike 27 and for the local music scene who continue to send love and support. It was incredible to see Dave so happy — so alive! And yes, he was singing his ‘girl part’ high harmonies and keeping time with his feet. Would you expect any less? ~Jacqui
My son’s band played a few songs at the fundraiser last night. If they keep playing music, I hope they always remember that it’s not about fame, fortune or glory, it’s about the friendships you form and the love you share.
I’m a blues fan, but must admit that my interest has waned since Stevie Ray Vaughan died. Seeing some youngsters play the blues like old souls last night gave me new hope for the next generation of the blues.
Full disclosure: Joe Tellmann is the 15-year-old son of my good friend Dave, with whom I had the pleasure of working at 97X in Oxford, OH two decades ago. He also happens to be a preternaturally gifted guitarist who loves nothing more than practicing for several hours every day.
Erin Coburn is even younger than Joe, she’s only 13. She looks like she should be playing with American Girl dolls instead of playing guitar, but when she plays and sings she’s Bessie Smith, Koko Taylor, Bonnie Raitt and Susan Tedeschi all rolled into one.
Both Joe and Erin attended the Pinetop Perkins Foundation Camp in Clarksdale, Mississippi this summer. According to Dave, it was an incredibly rewarding week. Last night’s gig was a fundraiser for the foundation.
The Pinetop Perkins Foundation is a tax exempt non-profit organization. It’s mission is to provide encouragement and support for youth and young people at the beginning of their musical career; and help provide care and safety for elderly musicians at the twilight of their career.
Columbia House – the mail-order record club that would suck(er) you in with their magazine ads (“get 12 cassettes for a penny!”) has gone belly up. I’ll miss them because they helped me stock my cassette – and later CD – library with some gems. But I won’t miss worrying that I’d forget to mail back the “I don’t want this month’s selection” card in time, and getting charged $20 for a crappy album.
I’ll also miss making up some nice aliases so I could get more albums for a penny.
I did some crate digging when my wife, two of our sons and I went to an antiques mall recently, and found some real gems (using that term very loosely) in the album bins. This is vinyl that takes me back to the days of old, when I was young.
Here’s the first album I ever bought:
Yep, I was pretty late to the Eagles party. This album was their swan song (post-breakup re-formation albums don’t count in my book). Love the cover… not too far removed from the infamous “Black Album” from Spinal Tap.
I bought this album at Wal-Mart. (Don’t hate – it was pretty much the only store in Clarksville, Arkansas that sold records.) Brought it home, put it on the turntable and it skipped. Returned it to Wal-Mart for another copy, which also skipped. Finally figured out that if I taped a penny on the turntable’s needle arm, it worked just fine. Don’t try that with your mp3s.
I loved music so much that I pored over the liner notes. There was a note in tiny print at the bottom of the album sleeve telling how you could mail away for the lyrics:
How quaint. And of course I dutifully mailed in my SASE because I love lyrics.
I studied the album so much that I even found an “Easter egg” of sorts etched into the black vinyl between the last song and the record label on both sides, aka the “runout grooves.”
Side 1 said: Never let your monster lay down.
Side 2 read: From the Polack who sailed north.
I’m guessing that’s a reference to the album’s producer, Bill Szymczyk.
So I thought I was just driving 5 minutes away to an antiques mall, but I actually wound up going 800 miles (and 36 years) down Memory Lane.
“Who is gonna make it? We’ll find out, in the long run”
IMHO, The Band was one of the greatest bands ever. They never really got their due, probably because their name was too generic, and their association with Bob Dylan relegated them to backing band status in the minds of many casual music fans.
Within The Band, Garth Hudson, who turns 78 today, is easily the least well-known. All the others sang, and had their particular niche – Levon Helm, the Arkansas kid with the distinctive drawl, Robbie Robertson the hotshot guitarist and main songwriter (although Levon would dispute that), Rick Danko with his quivering falsetto, Richard Manuel with his soulful voice, put to use most memorably on “I Shall Be Released.” And there in the background was the mad scientist/keyboard wizard/genius, Garth. The strong, silent type. But let’s not forget that it was Garth who recorded the famous “Basement Tapes.” It’s Garth who has done the most since The Band broke up, doing session work and recording with dozens of artists, and still performing to this day.
It’s time to sing the praises of the unsung hero and “glue guy” of The Band. Happy Birthday, Garth, and here’s to many more!
Last weekend I attended Forecastle Fest, a three-day musical extravaganza, in Louisville, KY. It was my second straight year for Forecastle, and my second straight year of loving it. They have 4 stages with music going from 1PM until midnight all three days. For an old man like me who likes to keep up with what the kids are listening to these days, it’s a smokin’ hot smorgasbord. Hot was the operative word for the weekend too, as the temps were in the 90s and the humidity was off the charts. Saturday was an official “heat emergency” day in L-ville. But I did my best to stay hydrated.
Musical highlights:
The War on Drugs – great set from this Philly band. Lead singer’s voice reminds me a bit of Dylan, but I think he sounds more like Mike Scott from The Waterboys.
My Morning Jacket – love these fellers, and they played an epic 2 1/2 hour set for an extremely enthusiastic hometown crowd. The setlist was a great representation of the many facets of this band and their career. And lead singer Jim James had some great things to say about treating other human beings with kindness, too.
First Aid Kit – two sisters from Sweden, backed by a Scottish drummer and a Brit on guitar/keyboards/mandolin. They folkin’ rocked, with great originals and covers both expected (Simon & Garfunkel’s “America”) and unexpected (Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs”). Here’s one of my favorite songs of theirs:
Alvvays – I took a half day vacation from work on Friday because I wanted to get to Louisville for Alvvay’s 1:30 set. When I got there, they had been moved to 8:30. It was well worth the wait.
Sturgill Simpson – this is real-deal Country music, not the pre-fab pap/pop that tries to pass as country these days.
Field Report – much like Sun Kil Moon last year at Forecastle, this was a sleeper set. Very mellow, but extremely compelling listening. Would love to see this band at a club.
For good old R-A-W-K, there were four bands that delivered the goods in high-energy style:
I highly recommend that you pick up a set of EarPeace HD earplugs. For less than $20, you can still hear the bands just fine (unlike when you stuff cotton balls in your ears or use cheap earplugs that block the sound vs. filter it) and you’ll protect your ears. Wish these were around 30 years ago.
Complaints that make me sound like the old man that I am:
I know tobacco is still a big cash crop in Kentucky, but the smokers drove me crazy. No matter where I stood, somehow I was always downwind from a batch of nicotine addicts. Wish festivals would ban smoking, or at the very least create an enclosed “cancerdome” bubble where smokers could congregate.
On Friday night, a big thunderstorm rolled through during Sam Smith’s headlining set (looks like Mother Nature and I have something in common: we both don’t particularly care for Brit soul singers). Heavy winds caused some damage to the stages. So Saturday, Forecastle organizers delayed the opening of the gates by nearly an hour. Which would be fine except they didn’t communicate this until hundreds of folks were already lined up to enter, and they just let us sit there baking in the hot sun on an unshaded sidewalk the entire time. I’m surprised we didn’t all melt and/or pass out from sunstroke. I know the storm was out of their control, but their response to it was lame. At the very least, move the queues to the shade, and hand out bottled water.
OK, enough complaining. Overall it was a great experience, and I just might go for three in a row next year!
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