I. Ricky Nelson
My first awareness of musical kinship was Ricky Nelson. Beyond his family television show, he motivated me to frequent the phonograph record department of a local store. I was fascinated with the LP format and album cover art.
Ricky was made for the early album "head-shots." He was suave, good-natured and handsome. His music, especially his voice, had the gravitational pull of artistic success.
For my self, I preferred Ricky to "Elvis the Pelvis," who influenced many other kinships, like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. I enjoyed early Elvis, around the time of "Jailhouse Rock." He seemed to change, however, after his stint in the army. He was no longer singing "Hound Dog" with gusto on the back of a flatbed truck.
Later, I found the connection between Elvis and Ricky. It was the guitar player, James Burton. A DVD, "Ricky Nelson Sings," with James Burton and Ricky's sons, Matthew and Gunnar, featured the critical role Burton played in Ricky's music. He knew how to play lead expertly, when to be there, and when not to be there. He understood the interplay of the vocal and the lead, how to take the foreground instrumentally then fade to black. He started out in his career with Ricky, but when he left the stage, Elvis called him. "Big E" knew James transformed the sound of a band. With his voice and Burton's guitar, everything worked. Burton also played at the Roy Orbison concert with Bruce Springsteen, Tom Waits and Roy.
Not to offend anyone, Ricky was the King. (Neil Young wrote a unique song to Elvis on his "Prairie Sun" release. It was titled, "He Was the King." I was never sure if the song was a tribute, a satire or an strange belief. In any event, Elvis had left the building. ("Thank ya' very much.")
II. The Beatles
Until The Beatles, I found my way around with 45-speed records, a few 78's and a.m. radio. Then, flipping through a record bin in search of a 45 for a dance party, I discovered The Beatles. Trying to keep my cool (the "moptops," black-and-white art cover photos and Mersey suits were strange in the days of the pompadour). I purchased the record. I felt very excited but could not explain why.
A countdown began when I heard The Beatles were booked for the Ed Sullivan show in February 1964, their first live national appearance. Many "firsts" already had occurred in my life, including the early NASA missions like Mercury, the 61st home run of Roger Maris and the knockout of Sonny Liston by Cassius Clay (Muhammed Ali). I could barely wait or contain my enthusiasm as Ed's show on Sunday night approached.
My parents wondered what all the fuss was about in the papers and on television. Nevertheless, we all sat down together that fateful evening...and then, they were there! New York City gone mad: girls screaming, old men giggling, young people dazed and bedazzled with an exciting beat.
They were wonderful, full of love and energy, much more talented than anyone expected. The music was good, very good. I was a believer and never looked back. I remained high until I returned to school the next day with my imitation Beatle haircut. I essentially had no hair to work with in terms of length. All I could do was turn my short hair down on my forehead. To my surprise, I was kicked out of school and told not to return until I cut my crew cut. In a hasty meeting with the principal, my father demanded I be allowed to come back, no questions asked. I was touched by his defense of me in a rare moment of our relationship.
III. Gordon Lightfoot
"There was a time in this fair land / When the railroad did not run / When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun / Long before the white man and long before the wheel / When the green dark forest was too silent to be real / (and many are the dead men too silent to be real)." -Gordon Lightfoot ("CRT")
When The Beatles disbanded, I was left with a musical vacuum. Without thinking, I had lived through their era (1963-1970) assuming they would play together always. They had grown up during those years themselves and their new adult persons announced to the world the end of the best group in pop history. They were no longer "boys," as their manager Brian Epstein referred to them.
On a visit home from Tulane, a friend of mine from high school suggested I find a new influence in the field of music. Knowing what I liked, he handed me an LP by Gordon Lightfoot. Originally titled " Sit Down Young Stranger," it was later renamed "If You Could Read My Mind," when the title song became a hit single. Lightfoot won a Grammy for his album and song.
I spent many hours carefully listening to Lighfoot craft his sound, including his earlier releases on the UA label. When he went to Warner Bros. Records on the Reprise series and collaborated artistically with producer, Lenny Waronker, his golden years began. The apogee of his work was perhaps "Old Dan's Records," "Don Quixote," "Sundown," "Cold On the Shoulder" and " Summertime Dream."
Gord had great style and a gifted voice. His Travis picking on the guitar was unique to him only and quite hypnotic. I could listen to him pick for hours. He also wrote original material which was poetic verse set to his music, like "The Canadian Railroad Trilogy" or "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."
I followed him for years with new album releases and concert experiences. I saw him live two times in New Orleans and four times in California. The best and most memorable experience was in New Orleans in 1994 at the Saenger movie theater off Canal Street.
IV. "Baby Step Up, Baby Step Back"
Through the luck of the draw, my family scored the first four seats in the house, front row, seats 1-4 for the Saenger concert in 1994. Lightfoot's mike was right above my seat. I could clearly see the veins in his hands and sweat on his brow. It was a sublime concert. All the band played flawlessly, having finished a long tour with their last stop in New Orleans. They were well rehearsed and covered at least thirty of Gord's songs.
When he played "Baby Step Up," he began to stare at me intensely. I thought it might be the way I was perceiving his look, so I kept it to my self and did not tell my family about the curious experience. After the show, we were having hamburgers at the Hard Rock Cafe. With no prior prompting on my part, the rest of the group began to ask me about "that look" Gordon had given me. All of them had noticed it, so it was not a big secret. I felt it was a message to Big Hand, that the time to step forward with the music was approaching.
IV. Bob Dylan
As he wished, Bob was always a puzzling figure. I was not an early fan of his acoustic music until I gained some sense later in life. I do remember my first recognition of him on the a.m. radio, pulling out of a friend's driveway in a convertible Mustang. The song being played was "Like a Rolling Stone." "How does it feel?," he snarled. It felt good.
My life intertwined with his interesting musical career from the "Rolling Stone" song moment onward. He always continued to develop as an artist, like The Beatles. A signature moment was the excellent album, "Blood On the Tracks." I only had good experiences with him in outdoor venues, like the '98 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival with "the undertakers" and two performances at "the Greek" on the Berkeley campus in California. At the age of 73, he was in command of his song catalog. I could not help dancing ecstatically for over an hour with my wife to '"Desolation Row" and "Ballad of a Thin Man." The campanile over the university Berekeley campus towered over the Greek ampitheater as the audience cheered in delight.
As I developed as an artist, I began to feel Gord was my musical father and Bob, my musical uncle. My acupuncturist, who curiously didn't know much about Bob or Gord, was more knowledgable about performers from the SF Bay Area. He asked me to bring him some examples of them to sample at home. I remember bringing him "Sundown" by Gord and "Blood On the Tracks" by Bob.
When he returned the albums, he admitted he very much enjoyed them. He said, however, he had a different point-of-view about my musical kinships. Knowing me, he said my musical kniships were just the opposite of what I was thinking. He contended Bob was my musical father and Gord, my musical uncle. After thinking about it, I felt he was right. It really helped to correct my inner thinking and straighten out my kinship alliances. Perhaps Neil Young was even a brother whom I had never known!
Note: The Beatles and Ricky were obviously grandfathers along with related elders like the Ventures Peter, Paul and Mary. Thus, my musical journey began in Hollywood, CA with a family television show, then skipped over the pond to the shipping port of Liverpool, followed by a sojurn in Toronto, Canada, then back across the 49th degree parallel from Canada to Greenwich Village in New York City, where Bob began his career.
