(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “All You Need Is
Love”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: July 1967
A snippet from a 1987 Rolling Stone
Magazine interview with George Harrison:
Rolling Stone: “Do you still think that all you need is love?”
Beatle George: “Yes, absolutely!”
While pulling together my thoughts early this past week for this final Music and Memory blog entry, a personal late-1960s recollection slowly surfaced to the top of my consciousness. And as the week played out, my mind pieced back together that memory; a day when I was no more than 6 years old, walking with my ~ 4-year old brother Joe in the woods behind our rural ranch home in Franklin, Massachusetts. There were sections of that woods where all of us kids were very comfortable and familiar with, but if we veered off the beaten path to the left (in the direction away from our home) we tended to get disoriented. We called this area the “Lost Forest”. It was a dark and forbidding forest, dominated by stately White Pine trees and little-to-no undergrowth.
Most of the time, my siblings and
I (along with a few friends) avoided this area like the plague, but curiosity
and boldness occasionally trumped our fears for mad spells, and in turn we
would make brief forays into the Lost Forest. Each and every time, it would not
be long before we would get disoriented and fearful. Eventually, after some
trepidation (which probably felt much longer than real time), we would fumble
and stumble our way back to familiar ground (or, Mom would track us down and
insist we keep our explorations within the confines of our roughly defined backyard).
I’m thinking we were never more than 50 yards from the house, but in our mind, when
we entered the Lost Forest, we had crossed into another dimension.
On the occasion that came back to
mind this week with Joe alone, the two of us were feeling particularly curious
and bold, and so we ventured our way deeper into the Lost Forest than we had
ever ventured before. As I reflected this week, I recalled the disoriented
feeling that crept in as we hiked up and over a small ridge. On the other side
of that ridge was a bubbling brook and hanging out beside it were a handful of
young adults. Both the guys and gals had long hair, and they were wearing funky
loose clothing, which included beads around their necks. The lot of them were
sitting around a small firepit with a transistor radio emitting cool music. Several
tents were set up a bit farther up on the opposite bank. These dudes came
across as friendly right off the bat, and after a brief exchange they sensed
our fears of being lost, whereby they guided us back from whence we came.
My world was an innocent and insular
one at the time, and so this was my first encounter – both physically and metaphysically
- with the then hippie subculture of America. My young mind actually equated
these hippies to Native Americans, and in many ways, I believe I got it right. Afterall,
they were surrounding themselves with the natural world, while in the process separating
themselves from the material world. In essence, they were establishing an
environment - however temporary - that would allow them to connect more readily
with their true inner selves. Amazingly I sensed all this at a very young age, although
I now believe that that association was quite natural for a then innocent mind like
mine to make.
As mentioned before in these blog
pages, that hippie subculture – of which those groovy cats represented - had a
profound effect on those of us who came of age in the 70s, which personified
itself in the music we loved. Another way of putting this is, we didn’t toss
aside the music that came immediately before us, as so many other generations
have done. On the contrary, we embraced it. And, we added to it with our own
fantastic dose of profound music. In this way we ended up with a
double-decade-barrel of musical potency to tune into. In the past 13 years, I
have tried to capture in writing how that uniquely intense musical world I
lived in (and continue to live in) has played out.
Every musician and band that I
focused on this Music and Memory blog site was originally known for
brilliant output in the 1960s, and all of them continued to produce great stuff
into the 1970s and beyond (which incredibly includes the here and now for each
and every one of them).
I started with the Rolling Stones
in my 2012 Stepping Stones series. As with all my yearlong series, there
were 50 Stepping Stones entries in all, and as with all my series, I
would listen only to that given musician’s music all year long (in this case,
the Stones). Of all my musician-centric listening/writing ventures, Stepping
Stones would end up being my most fun one. I loved revisiting life-changing
albums such as Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Some Girls, and Tattoo
You. I loved diving deeper into Between the Buttons, Black and Blue, and
Bridges to Babylon (I just realized all 3 of these album titles hit you
with a double “B”). I made the
breakthrough I always wanted to make with Exile on Main Street as a top-10
rock and roll seminal album (this breakthrough came about ½ way through my Stepping
Stones series, and from there on I had to refrain myself from sticking with
the album for the remainder of the year).
Most of all, I loved making observations regarding the individual
talents of the seven official bandmembers, as well as their support cast through
the years (Ian Stewart, Nicky Hopkins, Merry Clayton, Bobby Keys, Chuck
Leavell, etc.). The Stepping Stones series had me realizing that in many
ways I was channeling the love I have for all the wonderfully-unique people in
my own life through the musicians I was writing primarily about.
Next up was my 2014 Forever
Young series on Neil Young; the musician who I have witnessed the most in
concert. Here was my first stab at a talent that is known more as a solo artist
than as part of a band (the other would be Bob Dylan). Of all the musicians I
have ever seen live, it was Neil Young who surprised me the most, hitting me far
more impressively than my expectations had allowed (particularly when he
performed with Crazy Horse). This was why I included Young for his own series. During
that Forever Young year, it was mind-bending to flesh out Neil Young’s
second-to-none album-oriented output in both the 70s (After the Goldrush,
Harvest, Time Fades Away, Tonight’s the Night, On the Beach, Zuma, American
Stars ‘n Bars, Come a Time, and Rust Never Sleeps) and the 90s (Freedom,
Ragged Glory, Harvest Moon, Sleeps with Angels, Mirror Ball, Broken Arrow, and
Silver & Gold). Neil Young is the most passionate of the musicians whom
I love to listen to (which is saying a lot), and I would like to think I
captured that passion within myself as I wrote during that Forever Young
year.
My favorite band, the Who, were
next up; they the inspiration for my 2016 Under the Big Top series. I
called the series “Under the Big Top”, because I have always felt I was at the
perfect “4-ring” circus as I watched and listened to them over these many years.
Who do you focus on? Do you listen to the unparalleled drums in Ring 1, or that
one-of a kind bass in Ring 2, or those harmonious wide-range backing vocals in Rings
2 and 3, or those lyrics emanating out of Ring 3, or those power chords also in
Ring 3, or that lead singing in Ring 4? Each of the original 4 members of the
Who is recognized as top-tier by critics in terms of the instrument he excelled
at, as well as his stage presence. But collectively is where the real magic
was. That was what I was trying to capture and convey that year: Collective
magic. Can an ensemble effort in any endeavor rise above individuality when all
cylinders are clicking? The Who also tackled difficult subject matter in their
music, including war, schizophrenia, pedophilia, ostracization, and the fear of
becoming obsolete. I tried to hit on all these topics at one time or another
during that Under the Big Top year. Finally, the Who were my first stab
at a spiritual element in my writing. They would not be the last.
My Bob Dylan year was in 2018
(actually, it lasted two years, because I spent all of 2017 prepping for
it). I titled that series “Master
Blueprints”, because, among the ‘multitudes’ of accolades one can toss in
Dylan’s direction is this one: Bob Dylan leaves breathing room in his songs for
other musicians to interpret in their own way. This is a key reason why his
music will endure. My Master Blueprints year was one full of mystery and
intrigue and unexplained phenomena. I also had the opportunity to visit three
of Bob Dylan’s personal cornerstone geographies: Hibbing MN, Greenwich Village
NY NY, and Woodstock NY. Through these and other events, I connected with
numerous individuals in the Dylan world. All in all, I gained abundant new
insight into poetic brilliance, the importance of accepting and embracing change
in one’s life, and spirituality. And in the end, I found myself so thankful for
living these times with this man.
Last but not least was this year’s
Fab Foundations series, inspired by the music of the Beatles. This is
where it all began for me (hence the title) and I’m glad I saved this band for
last. I had to dig farther back here, but most often, it proved to be easy to
find the memories. What was hard was keeping up with the writing. Indeed, I
have to say this was my hardest year fleshing ideas out week to week. Perhaps it
was because I knew the end was near. Perhaps it was because I’m 10 years older
than when I started all this. My core idea all along was to find that youthful
exuberance. That can be hard to do when your 58 years old. I was not going to settle for half-rate
writing though. Looking back and re-reading a few of the writeups, I’m happy to
say that, at least in my mind, I did not.
Weaved in all of this were the
personal stories that were pulled out of me as I listened to the Rolling
Stones, Neil Young, the Who, Bob Dylan, and the Beatles. That was the other
side of the coin, which complimented the musical side. Stories of famous musicians
and stories of friends and family blended together, often seamlessly. Music and Memory. Yeah!
One thing I have not mentioned yet
that I find fascinating about the Beatles was how George Harrison and John
Lennon stuck it out with Beatlemania for as long as they did. You see them smiling genuinely on the album
covers and in other photo-ops all the way to the breakup. They are supportive
in many other ways too. And yet, the extreme commercialism was against their general
nature. I think of John Lennon more in the nature of Lou Reed and George Harrison
more in the nature of Cat Stevens….and Reed and Stevens shunned the limelight for
most of their careers.
But here’s the thing: At the heart
of the Beatles message was a message of love. George and John could not resist
this. Nobody could if they were in their shoes. I don’t care what your
personality trait is. The end game of love was fundamental and as it turns out,
irresistible. And it was awesome. Deep inside, Lennon and Harrison most
certainly realized this. Neither of them lived as long as he should have. But
George Harrison did live long enough to come around in the end and reconcile
with his Beatles fame. I believe John Lennon would have done so too. As for
Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, it’s actually turned out pretty-darned well
that they are the latter-day spokesman for the Beatles; both have honored their
deceased brethren and the band magnificently.
In closing, I would like to thank all of you who have
put time aside to reading this blog. Some of you have been particularly faithful
(you and I know who you are), and I am so very appreciative of that. I’d also would
like to thank Google, YouTube and Wiki. Google and YouTube are over-sized monopolistic
corporate entities, but without them, I would not have had research and imagination
at my fingertips (Wiki is just excellent, period).
Most importantly I was a routine seeker of divine inspiration, writeup to writeup, year to year. God never failed me. In fact, for whatever reason He pushed me forward, especially when I felt as if I had nothing to give.
I can think of no better way to close this Music and Memory series with the following video:
( All you need is
love Beatles on Vimeo )
Peace. Love. Understanding.
-
Pete
