The Grande Ballroom Story - Louder Than Love

LOUDER THAN LOVE—
The Grande Ballroom Story (Trailer)

LOUDER THAN LOVE is the story of the Grande Ballroom—birthplace of the Detroit rock music scene. Bands like MC5, Iggy & the Stooges, Ted Nugent & the Amboy Dukes, Alice Cooper and many more got their start here. The Grande not only influenced Michigan musicians but inspired bands from all over the U.S. and Europe. Legendary acts like Led Zeppelin, Cream, BB King, Janis Joplin, Pink Floyd and the Who graced the stage at the Grande on a regular basis.

(The last we heard, the producer is still seeking distribution funding for this film.)

Clapton, Winwood Play Madison Square Garden

Having seen Cream play at Detroit's Grande Ballroom in the autumn of '67, like many fans I was disheartened when they disbanded. Also being a fan of Steve Winwood's Traffic, my excitement was quickly renewed when I learned that Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker were teaming up with Winwood to form Blind Faith. Their one and only album shortly hit the streets in August of '69.

That fall I saw them at Olympia Stadium (then home of the Red Wings)—the worst venue ever at which to stage a concert of any sort. The warm-up acts that night included one-hit wonders Friend & Lover (Reach Out of the Darkness), followed shortly by Delaney & Bonnie and Friends. Yes, I had reserved seats, but because the stage was set "center-ice," mine faced the rear of the band's speaker columns! Only on occasion would my heroes duck around between their Marshalls to play a few bars for us poor sods relegated to the "low-rent district." (As the promoter of this fiasco, you owe me one, Russ!)

With the exception of paying the big bucks to see Paul McCartney at "Echo" Arena a few years back in Sacramento, I've managed to steer clear of the large indoor "concert venues"—instead enjoying arena rock on my 52" video/surround sound system. So preferring my couch-potato venue for the really big acts, to my delight Steve Winwood was the featured end-of-show performer at Clapton's 2007 Crossroads benefit concert held outside of Chicago. First performing many of Traffic's chestnuts as a frontman, he then teamed up with the concert host to perform several Blind Faith numbers.

I had seen advertisements for the current Clapton~Winwood concert tour online, but had no idea—until today—that a DVD release of their February Madison Square Gardens tour stop was in the works. Among many others, tracks include Had To Cry Today, Dear Mr. Fantasy, Pearly Queen, Tell the Truth, After Midnight, and Voodoo Chile (for which Winwood played keyboards on Hendrix's original Electric Ladyland release).

PBS will be broadcasting this terrific performance in June, so check your local TV listings. Below is an amateur video from that event featuring the rocks legends' version of Hendrix's Little Wing. While it gives you an idea of what to expect from both the video and any forthcoming live concert of theirs, please remember that this sample is not at all representative of the quality provided by the authorized DVD. Enjoy!

Flashback: The Summer of Love

Waxing Nostalgic -or- Johnny Comes Lately

I recently journeyed to San Francisco to interview for a position at eWeek, published by Ziff-Davis Media. eWeek...sister publication to PC Magazine and formerly titled PC Week—which used to quote me when I was a PC reseller during those heady days of Windows 3.0. And sister publication to Windows Sources, for which I had a one-time cover story credit and was the Windows tips editor for a few months.

Now to be here..in San Francisco...interviewing at the Ziff-Davis. It definitely felt like I was coming full circle, regardless of the outcome.

Years ago San Francisco was only something I read about in Rolling Stone, or maybe even Life magazine, should one George Harrison decide to drop in on the Summer of Love. And long before I came to appreciate Tony Bennett leaving his heart there (one of three palatable songs on The Blue Room jukebox, the others being The Kingston Trio's Scotch & Soda and Dolly Parton's Jolene), it was Scott McKenzie imploring us to "be sure to wear flowers in your hair" and Eric Burdon alluring us with "old angels young angels feel alright, on a warm San Franciscan night."

Jimi Hendrix, baby believe me, set the world on fire, yeah!

Early for my appointment and it being the noon hour, I took a quick survey of the block and immediately sensed something was missing: honking taxis. That's right—the city had all the vibrancy of the Big Apple, including its own well-appointed Frederick Law Olmsted park, but no demonic honking taxis.

His majesty, Prince Jones, smiled as he moved among the crowd...

The crowd. Not a crowd, per se, but lots of people. Interesting-looking people, all with stories to tell and songs to sing—regardless of their ethnicity, dress, age, gender, or physique. And here's my epiphany: every last one of 'em looked just like R. Crumb's depictions. Or is it "despictions?" Although we may feel a sense of shame about them in flipping the pages of a Zap! Comix, here there is nothing about which to be ashamed—they're just common ordinary people. Right outta dem pages of Zap!, fer cryin' out loud! Why, there's Jumpin' Jimmy Jiz...over there's a sewer snoid... No, man... dey's people, just like you............

Continued...
Giving numerous restaurants the cursory evaluation, I ultimately settled upon The Toaster Oven Sandwich Shop for a bit o' nosh. It looked low-key, no hassle, probably a tasty sandie and—if all goes well—maybe even a table outside. Entering the queue, and feeling somewhat the outsider in my Mr. Bidnessman Suit, I was immediately swept away by the music:

"I can walk down the street and there's no one there,
though the pavement's a one huge crowd...
I can drive down the road; my eyes don't see,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud.
Though my mind wants to cry out loud."

It was I Feel Free from Cream's debut Fresh Cream release. Suddenly it was 19-freakin'-67 all over again ("Sherman, set the Wayback Machine...") and I was at the Grande Ballroom—where my life changed forever—the Grande being but Detroit's knock-off of Bill Graham's original Fillmore Auditorium. And here I was.

Standing in line, I wanted to strip open my Oxford shirt to reveal—what? That "I'm one of you?'" Or maybe slip on my bandana headband and play Frisbee in the park? Certainly a job interview was not where my head was at, though the prospect of Ziff-Davis was enticing...

I'm gonna wave my freak flag high, high!

...and when my mind is wandering there I will go... Next up was the Guess Who's Laughing, followed by a familiar Santana song for which I forgot to write down the title. Maybe it was too familiar, as Santana can sometimes be (Oye como va...mi ritmo...bueno pa gosar...mulata). Dunno what kind of sandie I got; some sorta meat sub with sweet peppers and a street view. I opted out of dining al fresco, though, settling for a window view of the passersby and:

Shoefly, dragonfly, get back to your mother.
Pick up a flat rock, skip it across green river.
We...lllllll!

Then I think there was a forgettable Stevie Wonder song, followed by the inimitable Al Green—Love & Happiness—with its defining opening guitar riff.

Funny, but if you sit in one place long enough, the people walking by start to become repetitive....like you're on a Lionel train set passing the same plastic diner with the same townsfolk stenciled on the windows. But it was way too sunny to be...The Twilight Zone, and the music was way too cool:

That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.

I was straining to identify the next one. What was that? Ah, yes... Woo hoo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eye, followed immediately by Neil Young's Harvest Moon.

Too many people, too many songs, too little time, and ultimately 1968 had to once again become 2007.

Leon Russell, Frank Zappa, Iggy Pop & Friends

And So We Get Started...

This blog is about music...many genres of music, as it happens, though I'm not predisposed to country nor rap. I'm a bit old-school, but you'll find my tastes are all over the place—from John Coltrane to Hoyt Axton, Roy Orbison to Vivaldi, Diana Krall to Blue Oyster Cult.

That's not to say that I don't appreciate an occasional offering from an Alan Jackson or a M.C. Hammer (like I said, I'm a bit old school), but don't expect to learn anything about the latest alt rock by reading any of this. Once in a while I may let my fondness for some group like Porcupine Tree, the Doves, or Durutti Column be known, but unless I get tipped off by (the best thing to happen to Internet radio), or by my daughter, Brooke, I don't spend much time chasing that down. Sorry. There are only so many hours in the day in which to listen.

Rather, I'm writing this blog to hopefully broaden your own audio spectrum: to perhaps turn you on to some obscure piece of music that's really going to do it for you. Like anything recorded by Yulara. But I'm getting way ahead of myself.

Along the way, I intend to provide you with some historical background—as much as I care to, that is. For example, that the record companies originally told George Benson to, as the title of an unrelated Frank Zappa recording attests, Shut Up 'N Play Yer Guitar. They believed that no one would ever want to hear poor George sing and, thankfully, they were very wrong.

(Though you've probably heard George's rendition of The Drifters' On Broadway by now, check out his version of Leon Russell's This Masquerade. And now that I've mentioned Leon, were you aware that it was he who penned This Diamond Ring, a big Top 40 hit for Gary Lewis & the Playboys? And yes, Gary is the son of Jerry Lewis, the goonier half [?!] of the Martin & Lewis comedy team. It turns out that, way before Joe Cocker and Mad Dogs & Englishmen, ol' Leon was a L.A. studio musician playing with the likes of some guy by the name of Glen Campbell.)

See? That's the kind of historical stuff I'm going to be weaving through this blog. Along with ideas for some really cool segues (track mixing) you probably wouldn't have ever considered. We'll talk about gear, from semi-audiophile stuff all the way down to the smallest flash-based MP3 players—though it is not my intention to compete with the likes of Sound and Vision magazine or Engadget.

And I'll relate some personal stories, such as going on a school-sanctioned field trip to see/hear Cream the first time they played Detroit in 1967. Or having Iggy Pop (aka Iggy Stooge) lick my Kodak camera lens. Or catching an early Grand Funk Railroad (subsequently forced to shorten their name to Grand Funk) at an outdoor summer festival at Mt. Holly (near Flint, MI).

But wait! Did someone mention the blues? And jazz? Zydeco? Ambient/trance/acid jazz, et al.? And a whole lot of other stuff? Writing this on a PC holding well over 27,000 processed tracks stashed on 1TB RAID5 disk array (and easily twice that many that have yet to be "processed"), I think I've got the subject covered, though I know of a couple of guys whose collections dwarf mine.

Happy listening!