The best of America has always, to me, been found in its music and, before they are gone, we should take a few minutes and give a thought and a nod to a few of our greats. Yes, of course, there is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but I refuse to take seriously any organization that inducts The Beasty Boys while continuing to ignore the Moody Blues.
Anyway, take a minute or two and pay respects to these folks while they are here. To often we ignore artists until they depart.
From Country Music, we have six greats left, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, George Strait, Loretta Lynn, Reba McIntire, and Dolly Parton. They are among the last to not only play real Country music, but to remember the roots, the lifestyle that Country Music came out of. Just because you throw in a fiddle, a steel guitar, and sing with a vague country drawl, you do not have Country music. Most of what you here on Country stations is just really bad, watered down rock. The rawness, the harshness, and the soul of Country music is simply not there.
Speaking of soul,You should give a thought to Mac Rebbanac, better known as Dr. John. The Dr. has stored in his fascinating mind the music of the city gave birth to much of our music, New Orleans. No New Orleas, no jazz and no rock. The first of the rock'nroll records was done by Fats Domino (yes, I know that usually is credited to Ike Turner's Rocket 88 but a record collector hunted down a song by Fats that predates that by a couple of years). Fats is very old now and not really active in music, but Dr. John is still alive and playing and to hear him is to hear a master. He knows and plays the Mardi Gras songs, funky R&B, Dixieland, the medicine show music, gospel songs and, here and there throws in the voodoo sounds he played for the Reverend Mother Healers he worked for as a young man. An extraordinary musician, he is also something sorely lacking in modern America, an original, something unique and his likes will not be seen again for awhile.
Pause for a moment please, and give thought to Robert Hunter, the lyricist who wrote so many fine songs with Jerry Garcia for the Grateful Dead. I know that, over the years, many have scorned the Dead as just remnants of the hippy days of the 60s, but Hunter and Garcia wrote some wonderful, lovely songs. It is true that they lived in a kind of bubble and clung to hard to those old days, but, within the Universe they chose to live in they found beauty. And, from that World, they looked out and saw the rest of the Worlds and wrote of it. There were songs of hope (Box of Rain) and inspirational beauty (Eyes of the World), but there were also songs of ager (Ship of Fools), sadness (China Doll), and humor (Operator) There were also good time songs (Loose Lucy), mean, evil songs (Jack Straw), and songs about the down trodden (Black Peter) and the willfully lowdown (Warf Rat). And of course, just down right psychedelic weirdness (That's it for the Other One, Dark Star). Even those put off by the hippy, 60s vibe they sometimes put out should recognize the beauty of their work and give a thought and a nod to Hunter.
Next,aknowledgement should be made of two guys who were, in ways, the polar opposites of Hunter and Garcia, Donald Fagan and Walter Becker, Steely Dan. I once read a review by someone (I wish I remembered who so I could give credit) who called Becker and Fagan the Hunter and Garcia of the real world, and that pretty much sums things up. Musically, the seem at home with rock and they are deeply influenced by jazz, but they have found a way to blend things together and have created a sophisticated blend, a shiny new kind of pop music. Lyrically, they are largely thought of for their cynically intelligent commentary on the modern world, but, as an old saying goes, scratch a cynic and you will find a hurt romantic. It is easy to overlook the fact that they have written some beautifully romantic songs. Two that come quickly to mind are The Things I Miss the Most and Walk Through the Raindrops and my writing about them will tell you nothing of how lovely they are. Go listen to them and the rest of their work and realize that they are the equal of all of America's past composers of pop music, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter and the rest. The form may be different, a lot of the views are very different, but the brilliance is the same.
Speaking of brilliance, there is Bob Dylan. I will write little of Dylan because what is left to be said. He is a master lyricist, although by his own admission he is not much on writing melodies. In fact he has admitted that like his friend Woody Guthrie, he steals melodies from old blues, gospel and folk tunes that are in public domain, just like Woody learned to do from his buddy Leadbelly. But, Dylan has a way of putting those wonderful words to the melodies and performs them beautifully. True, his voice is an aquired taste, but it is always perfectly suited to what he is singing. I can think of nothing to say about him that has not been said so let me just recommend a few albums, his best. Blonde on Blonde: the one album that truly captrued to lunacy of the 60s. John Wesly Harding: in an era when everyone was trying to out weird everyone else, he upped the ante by making a musically simple album (stright folk sound, guitar, harmonica, bass, drums) and writing some of the oddest lyrics ever. Blood on the Tracks: an album of wonderfully told tales. World Gone Wrong and Good as I've Been to You: just guitar and voice and covers of old blues and folk songs and they are wonderful. Time out of Mind and Love and Theft: two albums that deal at the deepest level with aging, love lost and the hope of love found.
As far as the fine old pop singers of the old fashioned pop standards go, we still have Tony Bennett and, thankfully he still performs. I once saw a taped performance, from the 90s of him doing one of my favorite, Kurt Weill's Lost in the Stars and it was incredible, a difficult song, done to perfection.
Regretfully, very regretfully, as far as I know, when BB King passed, we lost the last of the great bluesmen. If there are others, sorry, I didn't know you are still with us and I wish you would come out and play again. The same holds for jazz. Jazz has always been my favorite and I regret to say that it is gone. Note to Winton Marsallis: yes, you play well but you just lack that creative, mad spark that the greats have, Not your fault, of course.
And, when it comes to rock, well, again, even though some of the old warhorses, Petty, Springstein and such are still kicking around and some of their predecessors, like Jerry Lee lewis and Little Richard are still drawing breath, their days are, or should be done. Rock, in its purest and best form is young folk's music. Guys like Jagger should be laughed at for getting on stage at 70 years old and strutting about singing I Can't Get No Satisfaction. I listen, here and there, to what now passes as rock and it simply is not that. Noise, heavy beats and screaming does not equal rock and insipid teeny pop tunes are best left unmentioned and unheard.
Where will American Music go? I have no idea, but I do believe that we should, for at least a moment or two, remember the great living treasures we have, because when they are gone, well, musically things look a might bleak.
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