Fab Foundations # 50: “Peace. Love. Understanding”

(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