THE MUSIC WE WERE EXPOSED TO, IN THE LATE 1960'S, EARLY 70'S
AND THE UNANTICIPATED EXPOSURE THAT WENT THE MILE EXTRA, TO WHO WE BECAME
PREAMBLE EXPLANATION
My parents weren't particularly religious, at least that I'm aware of, thinking back. The only time I ever attended Sunday School, was because I had a crush on a girl named Donna from public school, who also attended the Burlington United Church.
Merle and Ed didn't think of rock 'n roll as "devil's music," and the only reason ever given to me, why Janis Joplin and Jimmy Hendrix records would never be played on our new console record player, was that they couldn't stand the racket. They wished not to be disturbed in their recreation time. Their perception was, you see, that if it was rock 'n roll, or something from the period of my teenage-hood, the records would have to be played loud; aggressively so, that might also damage the speakers. Seeing as we were paying Banks Brothers Television and Audio, of Bracebridge, monthly installments, Merle would have ripped the last few hairs out of her balding head, if I had broken the unit, before it was paid for. You could play a Dean Martin, or Al Martino record at low volume, and the sound was adequate. But how could you play Joplin and Hendrix without cranking it up? Damn it! They had a good point. When they were out, I used to stick a couple of K-Tell records on the turntable, but I lived in fear, of a neighbor ratting me out to my mother, when she got home from work. So like drinking luke warm beer, which makes me gag just thinking about it, I listened to my favorite songs on very moderate levels. Same with the radio. It lost its oomph, as you can imagine. But it certainly wasn't because of any concern about rallying forth the devil, or that it would make me a drug fiend; just the audible carnage to the ear drums, of my ultra conservative parents, who wouldn't even have a whistle on the tea kettle, because the noise it created was ungodly to their taste. Crazy eh? I didn't have any brothers and sisters to break trail for me, so I had to live with the decisions, and bylaws I found rather unfair. I still have authority issues, and absolutely hate municipal bylaws. Maybe it does go way back with me.
But by golly, I had a couple of portable radios, that had enough beef in their batteries, to draw in American signals from stations like "WLS," in Chicago, that played the big hits of the day. Merle and Ed were kind enough to buy me a radio that had an earphone, which was a little tinny and the static sounded like machine gun fire, up close and personal. I did get my share of contemporary music but most of it was off the radio. Remember how we used to answer the telephones, "I listen to CHUM," (radio), which made us eligible for a cash prize, but I can't remember how much. I always had "Chum Charts," for the week, listing the top popular songs of the time period, and as a matter of fact, Andrew has a few on display in his music shop. When I got to drive our boat of a car, a 1969 Oldsmobile 98, that looked like a Mafia staff car, I used to wind-out the eight tracks of my favorite bands, which I was able to buy off a friend, and despite the clicking and clacking when the channel changed, in the middle of a song, gosh, the volume I could get out of that unit was wild. A couple of my dad's colleague's at work, told him they heard the booming of rock n'roll, when I was stopped at an intersection uptown, with the window down of course. My dad then figured out, that if I was cranking up the volume, I must also be racing through town. It became a whole ugly thing, not suited to this column about the greatness of music, to set the incarcerated soul free. Mine really needed to be liberated. I think I might have exploded if I hadn't been able to take off to university in my late teens. And yes, I got a small record player for my room at York University, and by this point, I was also able to afford a few records, and some nifty headphones that looked like giant ear-muffs.
To begin this look back at the music of the period, courtesy son Andrew's newly acquired collection of "Rolling Stone" magazines, I wanted to set the record straight, about how a fellow like me, having survived a rather confining, limited exposure to the music of my generation, could then inspire my two sons, Andrew and Robert, to make a career out of rock 'n roll, and music generally. I give more credit to their mother Suzanne, who had parents highly supportive of her music interests. I needed to draw back on some confessionals I wrote previously, generated and inspired, by son Robert's vintage vinyl collection, and the fact he helped me relive portions of my youth, via music he researched for me, to listen to, in our Gravenhurst music studio. I was astonished at the thoughts being generated, and the recollections coming back to me, as if a flood gate had been suddenly opened. I began writing, as the records were playing, and I was pretty honest with myself, how music had always provided both an escape and safe harbor, and my dreams could always be played as loud as I so desired. Here now, is what the music of another era, my era, reminded me of, sitting here in the contemporary sense, and feeling rather out-dated and a little crusty; sort of like my parents but a lot more liberal when it comes to volume control.
Music is the great alixir to what ails you. Complacency, has been, for me, my latest, greatest enemy. I will take what music can give me, and thank all the musicians who have companioned me on so many wonderful trips, in so many different directions, sometimes all at once. I think at times, during this exercise of re-discovery, some of my writing was automated, like those who write down, in wildly scribbled lines, what the spirits are messaging during a seance. My mind was filled with all kinds of neat stuff, and it had been brought to fruition, because of a giant, bright, lovely spark; it was the music I had forgotten, that had once meant something to me, beyond its pleasant recreational enticements. Music I hadn't heard or thought about, for more than forty years.
I needed this re-boot, me things, to gain back my insight, about a lot of retrospectives I've been having recently.
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One of the rarest of Canadian Records, 1974 Pressing of 99 copies-see story
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THE YOUNGEST SON - THE RECORD I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO ALL MORNING
SON ROBERT, WITH SPINNING "WILD" EYES, HELD HIS NEWLY ACQUIRED, "1 OF 99" (POSSIBLY EVEN I OF 50) COPY, OF A PRIVATELY PRESSED RECORD, FROM 1974, TITLED "THE YOUNGEST SON," BY ONTARIO MUSICIANS JEFF MOORE, AND CHRISTINA BECKER. IT WAS A PSYCH-FOLK RECORD, BY TODAY'S RECKONING, DEDICATED TO "SANDY, CHRISTMAS '74," FROM JEFF. THE RECORD IMPRINT, DIRECTS THANKS TO BAYVIEW SECONDARY SCHOOL, (RICHMOND HILL, ONTARIO) AND INDIVIDUALS, DOUG LIPPAY, WAYNE WHITAKER, AND A.GRANDINETT. "JEFF MOORE - LEAD VOCALS, ACOUSTIC GUITAR; CHRISTINA BECKER - LEAD VOCALS, ACOUSTIC GUITAR; JIM LINDERMAN - BACKGROUND VOCALS, ACOUSTIC GUITAR; JUDY IMESON - ALTO SAXOPHONE, BARITONE SAXOPHONE; WENDY JONES - FLUTE; PAUL MCDONALD - PERCUSSION; A.J. SMITHERAM - ELECTRIC GUITAR; DAVE BERARD - BASS. COVER DESIGN DONE BY WAYNE HILLABY." JEFF MOORE AND CHRISTINA BECKER (BOTH SIXTEEN YEARS OF AGE, IN 1974), WERE HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS AT THE TIME OF THIS PRESSING. IT IS BELIEVED THAT ONLY NINETY-NINE RECORDS WERE PRESSED ORIGINALLY. A LATER PRESSING CAME A FEW YEARS AGO, WITH THREE HUNDRED BEING RELEASED. TODAY, AN ORIGINAL COPY IS WORTH UPWARDS OF TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS IN EXCELLENT CONDITION. EVEN POOR CONDITION COPIES CAN SELL FOR AS MUCH AS ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. IT IS CONSIDERED ONE OF THE TOP FIVE RECORDS IN CANADA.
WHEN MUSIC SENDS SHIVERS THROUGH AN OLD GNARLED BODY, LIKE MINE, THESE DAYS, IT'S EITHER BEEN CAUSED BY ACCIDENTAL ELECTROCUTION, A BEAUTIFUL FOOD DISH, PLACED IN FRONT OF ME, MY GUARDIAN ANGEL COMING FOR A VISIT, OR SONGS LIKE THESE TWO TALENTED MUSICIANS PRODUCED BACK IN THE SCHOOL DAZE OF 1974. IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE THEY WERE ONLY SIXTEEN YEARS OF AGE. THESE ARE LIGHT, SMOOTH, BUT RICH VOICES, REMINISCENT OF SOME OF THE GREAT FOLK TALENTS OF THE PERIOD, EVEN DATING BACK TO THE EARLY 1960'S. IT'S SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE, THAT THIS RECORD COULD HAVE FALLEN THROUGH THE CRACKS OF THE MUSIC INDUSTRY; BECAUSE LET'S FACE IT, THOUSANDS OF LESSER ALBUMS MADE IT TO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN, WHEN IN REALITY, THEY SHOULD HAVE FALLEN DEEPER INTO THE CRACKS. SOMEONE WAS ASLEEP AT THE SWITCH, BECAUSE THIS IS A JEWEL OF CANADIAN MUSIC HISTORY; AND THE PRICE YOU HAVE TO PAY TO GET ONE, SAYS IT ALL!
THIS RECORD, BOTH SIDES, FROM BEGINNING TO END, IS ALLURING, COMPELLING, AND PRESENTLY WORM-HOLING MY BRAIN INTO SWISS CHEESE. IT IS HAUNTINGLY PRECIOUS, AND I'VE BEEN HEARTSICK ALL MORNING LONG, RECALLING THOSE MIST-SHROUDED DAYS OF YORE. MY YORE! WHERE WAS I IN 1974? WE HAD JUST ARRIVED BACK IN CANADA, AFTER A BAND TOUR OF ENGLAND, AS PART OF THE BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL MUSIC PROGRAM, AND I HAD A NEW GAL-PAL ON MY ARM. AND OOPS, ONE WAITING FOR ME AT HOME. LINDA CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME? "THE YOUNGEST SON?" SUCH TANTALIZINGLY SWEET MUSIC, WITH A SMOOTH, YOUTHFUL EDGE; AND BY GOLLY, WHEN SUZANNE SAT AND LISTENED TO IT, A FEW MOMENTS AGO, SHE FELT THE NOSTALGIA THING AS WELL. SHE WAS THE THIRD GIRL WHEN I GOT HOME FROM ENGLAND. I DIDN'T TELL THE OTHER TWO. CAN YOU FORGIVE ME GAIL? CAN YOU FORGIVE ME SUZANNE? WHEN ONE SONGS MAKES YOUR MIND SPIN LIKE THIS, IT'S MEMORABLE. WHEN ALL THE SONGS ON AN ALBUM RING THE BELLS, IT'S BLOODY FANTASTIC. BUT IT'S HARD NOT TO ASK THE QUESTION; SO WHAT HAPPENED? WHY WASN'T THIS RECORD PRODUCED IN THE MILLIONS, BECAUSE IT IS DESERVING. ROBERT GOT THE RECORD RECENTLY, WHEN HE ACQUIRED A FEW BOXES OF "THIS AND THAT." THE SECOND ONE OF THE SAME ALBUM (NOW HE HAS 2 OUT OF 99 PRESSED). IT'S POSSIBLE THERE WERE EVEN LESS THAN 99 PRESSED IN 1974. IT WASN'T INTENDED FOR WIDE DISTRIBUTION BUT HONESTLY, IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN PICKED UP BY A LABEL, AND GIVEN A CHANCE TO FLY. THE QUALITY OF THE MUSIC IS WHY IT HAS BECOME ONE OF THE FIVE BEST ALBUMS, EVER RELEASED IN CANADA; NOT JUST BECAUSE IT IS A RECORD OF RARE AVAILABILITY. I'VE LISTENED TO THOSE AS WELL, WITH NARY A SHIVER. THIS ALBUM IS DIFFERENT. I WISH I COULD PLAY IT FOR YOU NOW, SO WE COULD ALL FEEL HAUNTINGLY NOSTALGIC, WISHING WE COULD HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH LOVERS OF ONCE, LONG AGO. IS IT SAD MUSIC? NOT REALLY. MELANCHOLY? A LITTLE. BUT WHAT IT ACCOMPLISHES, IN SEVEN SONGS, IS A SUBTLE, SOFT RECKONING OF SORTS, FOR THOSE WHO NEED TO BE RECKONED WITH.
I HEAR ALL TYPES OF MUSIC ALL DAY LONG. WHEN YOU WORK IN A CORNER OF A MUSIC STUDIO, THIS IS TO BE EXPECTED. ON FREQUENT OCCASIONS, ROBERT SCARES THE CRAP OUT OF ME, WITH SOME SHARPLY POINTED, BARB ENCRUSTED, INTRUSIVE, AGGRESSIVE, SOUL SMASHING, PEACE UNSETTLING, DEATH METAL; I CAN SMELL THE SULPHUR, THAT'S HOW CLOSE I FEEL TO THE ACTION. SO WHEN I BRACE MYSELF THESE DAYS, EXPECTING HE'S GOING TO THRUST ONE OF THOSE BEASTS AT ME, TODAY INSTEAD, (AND TELLING ME IN ADVANCE I WAS GOING TO LIKE IT) HE SO GENTLY INTRODUCED ME TO A REALLY NEAT COMPILATION OF SONGS, THAT REMINDED ME, AND SUZANNE RESPECTIVELY, OF THOSE HALCYON, ROMANTIC DAYS OF 1974. THE MUSIC? IT'S TIMELESS. THIS MUSIC NEEDS TO BE RE-RELEASED BY THIS TALENTED TWOSOME, FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL THOSE WHO NEED TO BE REMINDED WHERE THEY CAME FROM, AND WHERE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO GO. I SEE A LONG DUSTY COUNTRY ROAD BECKONING. SUZANNE SEES AN OPEN LAKE AND A SAIL CATCHING THE WIND. I SUPPOSE IT MEANS THE MUSIC HAS LIBERATED US FROM OUR FETTERING OF RESPONSIBILITY. WELL, AT LEAST FOR A FEW MOMENTS OF RECREATION, WE ARE FREE TO DREAM AWAY. SOMEONE HAS JUST INVADED THE STUDIO, AND OH DEAR, HERE COMES THE DEATH METAL AGAIN.
"THE YOUNGEST SON," IS AN EXCEPTIONAL RECORD THAT POSSESSES ALL IT TAKES TO BE MEMORABLE AND TIMELESS. SEEING AS I HAVE NEVER CONSIDERING I HAVE NEVER FOUND ONE WHOLE ALBUM EVER THAT PLEASED ME, SONG AFTER SONG, THIS IS CERTAINLY A LATENT TREAT. I'M JUST GLAD ROBERT, MY OWN YOUNGEST SON, BROUGHT IT TO MY ATTENTION; AND I'VE JUST NOW ASKED HIM, IF HE COULD PLEASE PLAY IT ONE MORE TIME FOR OLD POP. NOW THAT DOES TAKE ME BACK, BECAUSE IT'S THE SAME REQUEST I HAD TO MAKE, OF MY MOTHER, WHO IN 1974, WAS THE UNCONTESTED GUARDIAN OF THE LIVINGROOM STEREO CABINET. WHEN SHE WAS HOME, I HAD TO HAVE PERMISSION TO PLAY MY RECORDS. SHE SAID I WAS CARELESS WITH HER STUFF. I OWNED TWO RECORDS, SO SELECTION WASN'T DIFFICULT. I WISH THAT ONE OF THEM HAD BEEN "THE YOUNGEST SON." ROBERT COMPLIES. THE DISC IS SPINNING. NOW I'M SPINNING TOO, WITH A LITTLE ANGST, BACK TO 1974; WHIPPING ROUND AND ROUND, THROUGH THE SUCCESSION OF SEPIA TONE IMAGES, LIKE ABSTRACTS, OF ALL THE LIVES I'VE TOUCHED, AND BEEN TOUCHED BY, IN SOME PLACE, AT SOME TIME, FOR SOME UNEXPLAINED REASON. I SEE ANGRY FACES, A FEW MODEST GRINS. APPARENTLY, I WAS A BIT OF A CAD IN MY YOUTH. I SURRENDERED TO THIS RECORD IN THE FIRST THIRTY SECONDS. A WILLING CAPTIVE FOR THE WHOLE MEMORABLE TOUR OF ACTION. I ADORE BEING HAUNTED.
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