It Might Get Loud: Jimmy Page, Edge & Jack White

Hailed as “a documentary on the electric guitar from the point of view of three rock legends,” It Might Get Loud examines how the instrument has influenced three generations of musicians. These are represented in the upcoming film by Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page, The Edge (trend-setting U2 guitarist) and Jack White of the White Stripes.

Sony Pictures Classics' website states, "Filmed through the eyes of three virtuosos from three different generations, audiences get up close and personal, discovering how... each used the electric guitar to develop [his] unique sound and rise to the pantheon of superstar. Rare discussions are provoked as we travel with Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White..."

Directed by Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth) and produced by Thomas Tull (Dark Knight), the film is both an intimate look of the careers and styles of the three guitarists. In relation to Page, it's also a rare view given his reticence with the press.

You could find other guitarists [who] were virtuosos,
and [others who] are legends, but you may not find
three [who] are all searchers. Each...is still searching and
still trying to figure out what it means to make music.

Director Davis Guggenheim

It Might Get Loud officially debuts Aug. 14 in New York and Los Angeles, with showings in additional cities to follow.

Oliver Sacks: Musical Minds Airs On PBS' NOVA

Music affects more parts of our brains than language does—clearly humans are musical animals. What can music tell us about our minds? And what can our minds tell us about music? Can the power of music make the brain come alive? Can it aid people battling severe neurological disorders? And why did Nietzsche declare that "without music, life would be a mistake?"

Tony is an orthopedic surgeon who had no formal musical training. [Then] he was struck by a bolt of lightning. He is now a composer and performer, playing to sell-out audiences.

Throughout his career, neurologist and acclaimed author Dr. Oliver Sacks has encountered myriad patients who are struggling to cope with debilitating medical conditions. While their ailments vary, many have one thing in common: an appreciation for the therapeutic effects of music. According to Sacks's latest book, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, anatomists cannot identify the brain of a visual artist, writer, or mathematician—but they can recognize the brain of a professional musician.

Stream this video for free now through July 7 only!

You can stream this NOVA presentation to a PC or other
device now through July 7, after which it will only be
available on DVD. (Click here to learn how to stream video.)

Debuting this past June, this episode of the long-running PBS series, NOVA, follows four afflicted individuals and even peers into Sacks's own brain to investigate music's strange, surprising, and still unexplained power over the human mind. With Sacks's help, Musical Minds highlights the unusual physical disorders four individuals face—chronicled in Musicophilia—even as it underscores how these people manage, survive, and transcend, often triumphantly. As Sacks says, it seems that music can bring back the feeling of life when nothing else can.

NOVA even puts Sacks himself into a functional MRI (fMRI) machine for two experiments. One of these shows Sacks's overwhelming neurological response when he listens to Bach's Mass in B Minor; but, when compared to a similar piece from Beethoven, his brain is almost unresponsive, revealing his clear distaste for the latter composer.

To us at Floydian Slips, this research—clearly presented in this intriguing NOVA episode—provides vindication why we, and not others, require music in our daily lives in order to function at all. This phenomenon was wholly inexplicable until now.

Note: An earlier book by Dr. Oliver Sacks, Awakenings, was made into a Oscar-nominated film starring Robin Williams and Robert De Niro.

Rocking At the Red Dog: Psychedelic Age Begins

Planting the Seed(s) of the Psychedelic Age

We've been doing a lot of research as of late, using the '67 Summer of Love as a focal point. Arriving late to the party, what George Harrison saw disturbed him as he played street minstrel to thousands. His first-hand summation was amplified by PBS's American Experience worthy retrospective presented 40 years later (view it online for free). All of the sour grapes makes Floydian Slips glad we didn't accept Dr. Tim's admonition to tune out—not completely, anyway. (Tuning in and turning on were suggestions more easily accepted.)

The Beats aside, what's not well-known is the real backstory to the burgeoning Haight-Ashbury scene before the tour buses put the district on a freak show site-seeing route. It starts two years earlier, with the opening of the Red Dog Saloon in the unlikely location of Virginia City, NV.

The story gets two pages in I Want To Take You Higher—The Psychedelic Era 1965-1969, a magnificent coffee table volume issued by the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. As worthwhile as this volume is for any collector's library, the complete story is best told in Rockin' At the Red Dog—The Dawn of Psychedelic Rock. The expose that Life magazine missed, this comprehensive video includes rare photos, original footage of a pre-Janis Joplin Big Brother and the Holding Company, and interviews with many of those who were an integral part of the scene.

The best documentary on the ‘60s
ever made. Red Dog Saloon rocks!

Michael Simmons—Rolling Stone, L.A. Weekly, High Times, BAM

The Charlatans get a lot of attention for reasons best told by the video, an obvious labor of love for Director Mary Works (Assistant Editor, Titanic, Saving Private Ryan). Other groups included in the piece are Quicksilver Messenger Service, Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Airplane, although the viewer should not expect them to be a focal point. Rather, Rockin' At the Red Dog is really the story of how a handful of people began a cultural revolution that spread across America in a few short years. Interesting sidenotes include noted poster artist Anton Kelly on the advent of rock posters, and a look at Bill Ham's development of the de rigeur psychedelic light show.

It should be noted that, without the Red Dog's pioneering trailblazers, there very well may never have been an Avalon, a Fillmore, a Winterland, a Grande Ballroom, a Boston Tea Party, a Monterey Pop Festival, or a Woodstock. Netflix subscribers may instantly view this entertaining documentary; others may stream it over the 'Net using Amazon's Video On Demand service for a nominal fee.

Hot Tuna: Acoustic & Electric Celestial Blues

Hot Tuna's story is
an interesting one. Guitarist Jorma Kaukonen, having secured a position
with a new group, Jefferson Airplane, called back east to his high school friend, Jack Casady, in the hope of finding a bass player. Casady assured him he was the man for the job, and, after hanging up the phone, Kaukonen hoped Casady wouldn't embarass him once rehearsals began.

Not only did Cassidy provide the bottom to the Airplane's sound, he went on to play with other noted musicians of the era. That's Casady's thundering bass opening up Voodoo Chile from Hendrix's Electric Ladyland (with Steve Winwood on keyboards), the two having first met at 67's Monterey Pop Festival where they jammed backstage for hours.

Free! Listen to Water Song
in its entirety. Download it here (99¢).

The first Hot Tuna date was simply a diversion for Kaukonen and Casady, neither having any idea that it would lead to a collaboration that has far surpassed anything the two could have achieved with the Jefferson Airplane. Thankfully that original acoustic set was recorded and is still one of our favorites, much of the Hot Tuna songbook being timeless. And if you were put off by the addition of violinist Papa John (S)Creach, fear not—he appears on only two Hot Tuna releases.

We wanted to play a style of music that
wasn't being played by the Airplane.

Jack Casady interview

Floydian Slips finally caught up with Hot Tuna at the “Salty” Gebhardt Amphitheatre in Truckee, CA, an idyllic outdoor venue. (Have you ever wondered where all of the tie-dyed flower children went?) With Barry Mitterhoff on mandolin, the group played a terrific acoustic set before sundown. After dark, everyone plugged in (crowd inclusive) as drummer Erik Diaz joined in. The rest of the evening we were treated to some rockin', Casady's bass notes
r-r-r-rumbling up through our feet as we danced (we kid you not).

Then there's the DVD, Electric Hot Tuna—Live At the Fillmore, recorded in 1996. This is also a great set, with Pete Sears joining the tunas on keyboards. Worth your while, this listener was left wanting for much more bass response, Casady seemingly turned down in the mix.

Various Hot Tuna lineups continue to tour almost 40 years and 27 albums after the group's inception. Both musicians also have numerous other projects: Kaukonen has yet another new solo album out and Casady occasionally appears with the group, Moonalice (get free MP3s at the group's website). Yet somehow both find time to provide lessons at Kaukonen's Fur Peace Ranch (Pomeroy, OH) which doubles as a concert venue for many artists. Tune in here at 7:00 pm Eastern time to listen to Friday night's performance.

Dedicated fans may also purchase complete shows in MP3 format from this Hot Tuna download site.

Dylan Goes Electric (Hats Off To Mike Bloomfield)

JFK had been assassinated, civil rights were anything but, the U.S. had sent “advisors” to Vietnam and we periodically practiced climbing under our desks should Khrushchev decide to vaporize Southeastern Michigan. Yes, there was plenty of fodder for protest songs in the early '60s.

I missed the Bob Dylan folksinger hoopla by about seven years, however. There was a fair amount of Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul and Mary being played at home, but no Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger or... Bob Dylan. And once I heard Bobby Darin, Ray Charles, Dave Brubeck and the Beatles, I never felt compelled to investigate folk music. To my ear, even the most poignant lyrics have always been incidental to the instrumental accompaniment.

It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.

My introduction to Dylan has been circuitous. It started in the late '60s with debut albums by two then-new groups: Blood, Sweat & Tears (with founder Al Kooper on keyboards and vocals) and the breakout group, Electric Flag (led by guitar phenom Mike Bloomfield). A couple of years before, both musicians found themselves playing on Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited, featuring such tracks as Like a Rolling Stone and Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues. Their appearance on a Dylan album, then backing him up onstage, led to a public uproar.

Free! Listen to Like a Rolling Stone
in its entirety. Download it here (99¢).

In the DVD, Bob Dylan—The Other Side of the Mirror: Live at the Newport Folk Festival 1963–1965, we get to see early footage of Dylan the solo artist—singing, playing acoustic guitar and playing harmonica. The emcee reminds us that Dylan has “captured the essence of today’s (that of ’63) youth.” Later, we see him in a duet role with his then-girlfriend, Joan Baez. (Seeing Dylan playing a year after his Newport debut, it's interesting to note that at about this time he first met the Beatles and introduced them to "The New Mary Jane.") This is all interesting in its historical context, but it makes for a rather sleepy home concert video.

But then the REAL show starts. It’s 1965 and Dylan has “gone electric,” daring to show up at Newport with the Highway 61 Revisited musicians. While the crowd is busy booing, the viewer is treated to but a glimpse of the genius of Mike Bloomfield, as well as that of Dylan’s for including the guitarist in the controversial lineup.

For footage of Bloomfield leading Electric Flag, see The Complete Monterey Pop Festival, also featuring a performance of Kooper’s earlier group, The Blues Project. And we also recommend Martin Scorsese’s DVD biography of Dylan, No Direction Home, available in at Amazon in Video On Demand format.

Syd Barrett's Psychedelic London, Part II

Of Two Johns: Lennon & Sinclair, posted here a short while ago, tells of John Lennon, Pink Floyd, Soft Machine, and Yoko Ono all as active participants at The 14-Hour Technicolor Dream, an early London Be-In. Providing more detail of that story, Julian Palacios, author of the forthcoming book, Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd—Lost in the Woods, has graciously permitted an abridged chapter to be published herein. Click here for part one. Below is part two, reprinted here by permission:

The 14-Hour
Technicolor Dream

The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream marked the height of underground fashion. The full range of uniforms prevalent in sixties culture was in evidence. Here a phalanx of pea-coated beatniks, there a Kings Road fashion maven in a 1940’s satin dress with a chinchilla wrap. As proof of the Beatles sartorial dominance, everywhere were men with Edwardian beards and moustaches, rather than bog-brush beards of the later sixties. John Lennon grokked the scene clad in a sheepskin Afghan coat and granny specs.

The Pink Floyd made their way back from Heathrow. Stopping in at Edbrooke Road, [Peter] Jenner and Syd [Barrett] each dropped a tab of LSD before driving up to Muswell Hill in a convoy of Bentley and Transit van. Jenner said, "The most psychedelic experience that I’ve ever been to. At least half the audience was doing acid. I was doing acid. We’d had to take a long drive to get there from a gig in The Netherlands."

The group alighted at the Alexandra Palace at 3 am. They, like all the other bands, were playing free for the benefit. Syd wandered the crowd, tripping on LSD, having already smoked strong weed in Amsterdam earlier in the day. [He] ran into Mick Rock. The pair climbed scaffolding to peer into pipe organ bellows and entertained themselves pelting Yoko Ono with bits of wadded up paper as she organised a Fluxus-style happening. With a working title of "A Pretty Girl is a Manifesto," Ono had model Carol Mann [seated] on a stepladder dressed as a nun under a blazing spotlight. Audience members were handed scissors, outfitted with a contact microphone plugged into the sound system. Instructed to snip off her clothes, bit by bit her clothes fell away, as a crowd of bemused male punters swarmed. Amplified scissors echoed across the Palace until Mann sat, in all her glory, nude.

When Soft Machine took the stage, Daevid Allen wore a miner’s helmet with lamplight atop, Kevin Ayers sported oracular makeup. Robert Wyatt cut his hair short, wore a suit and tie, and set drums sideways. The group played [the] joke number We Did It Again, which repeated the title over one monotonous groove for 40 minutes at a stretch. Barrett soon adopted this avant-garde prank onstage to his band mates despair. ("Soft Machine were good fun," in Barrett’s view.)

Continued...

Daevid Allen said, "After we had finished I wandered about among the huge crowd." Allen also noted that, paradoxically, he never felt more alone in his life. "As this realization took hold of my entire being, I became aware of a celestial orchestra playing over a slow beat. I was drawn to the far stage where, unopposed by a simultaneous band, a group of slightly embarrassed musicians played symphonic slide guitar under the camouflage of vividly hypnotic light projections. The music thus created was almost Wagnerian in its emotional power. It welled up, expanding through the swirl of liquid light." A life changing moment for Allen, who adapted Barrett’s glissando technique, refined over a 40-year stretch with various incarnations of Gong.

Robert Wyatt was also impressed, "The Floyd played at 4 in the morning. It must have been one of the greatest gigs they ever did. Syd played with a slide and it blew my mind. I was hearing echoes of all the music I’d ever heard, with bits of Béla Bartók and God-knows-what."

The Pink Floyd at the Dream was the high point of the psychedelic era to Peter Jenner. "A perfect setting, everyone had been waiting for them and everybody was on acid." To a fanfare of the Finale by Bream, the group took the stage. Colin Turner was on hand, "The dawn arrived in a triumphant pink hue, the light came cascading in from the huge windows. Amid this awesome display of nature, Pink Floyd took the stage. They were wearing outfits with flared trousers and satin shirts. People began to awake and hold hands as the first notes of Astronomy Dominé echoed through the Palace."

Colin: "There was an extraordinary connection between the group and the audience. Then the magic happened. Syd’s mirror-disc Telecaster caught the dawn’s pink light. Syd noticed this and with drug-filled eyes blazing, he made his guitar talk louder and louder, higher and higher as he reflected the light into the eyes of his audience and christened those of us lucky enough to be there followers of Pink Floyd for life."

Chris Beard, "Something was not right and Syd was not up to it, just standing there out of his tree I suspected. Roger Waters seemed to take over. I admired Waters for this and was not happy that Syd had now drifted off." In a photograph, Barrett looks as though viewing things from a slight remove, as though already absent. Acid accentuated his offbeat charisma, such that he seemed in retreat even as the group approached fame.

As morning broke, sun streamed through the tall windows, lighting up the Palace in ghostly white angles. Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones, arriving a bit late, pulled up in Bentley and emerged looking rather shattered, clad in a full pearly king outfit. Beck’s Bolero by Jeff Beck blasted through the Palace, with Indian modal scales colliding head-on with Elmore James and Maurice Ravel’s Bolero. Hoppy and Suzy Creamcheese stood at the door. In inimitable style, they shook hands and said good morning to everyone as they filed out into the light. Hoppy’s court trial was four weeks away.

[International Times] summed up, "The beautiful scene at the benefit at the Alexandra Palace on the 29th seems long ago when considered in the light of all that has happened since then." Nick Jones wrote in Melody Maker, ‘The audience were happy looning about, looking at other’s clothes, eating, sleeping, dancing and just freaking out, doing whatever they damn well wanted. I found the Dream a most absorbing experience.’

Hoppy says, "The Dream was a crest of a wave. It was a landmark event. Everyone involved has a different story. All are true. It’s one of those paradoxes. The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream is a prime example of how memory gives the opportunity for many people to claim it was their event. Everyone can claim a piece, if they feel it important. Everybody thinks they know what the Dream was about, but when you look, there is something that you cannot find out about it. The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream is a cultural memory. It’s hidden and occluded." An accurate summary of the acid experience.

From Amazon.com: Syd Barrett was an art school student when he founded Pink Floyd. Famous before his 20th birthday, Barrett led the charge of psychedelia onstage at London’s famed UFO club, and his acid-inspired lyrics became a hallmark of London’s 1967 Summer of Love.

The second edition of Palacios' Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd—Lost in the Woods, from Plexus Publishing Ltd.—completely revised, expanded and amended—will be available in time for Christmas, 2009.

Syd Barrett 's Psychedelic London

Of Two Johns: Lennon & Sinclair, posted here a short while ago, tells of John Lennon, Pink Floyd, Soft Machine, and Yoko Ono all as active participants at The 14-Hour Technicolor Dream, an early London Be-In. Providing more detail of that story, Julian Palacios, author of the forthcoming book, Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd—Lost in the Woods, has graciously permitted an abridged chapter to be published herein. Here is part one, reprinted here by permission:

The 14-Hour
Technicolor Dream

That night the Pink Floyd topped the bill at multi-band extravaganza, The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream. Hoppy organized a group of his girlfriends to stand in Regent Street and pass out fliers, dressed in miniskirts ten inches above the knee. Later, the same flower and fancy dress contingent dropped off an invitation to the Dream for the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

Envisaged as a "giant benefit against fuzz action" of the sort that arrested Hoppy and tried to shut down [the International Times], The Technicolor Dream was to raise funds for the [IT] legal defence fund. Word of the event spread throughout London for weeks. An estimated 7,000 punters crowded into the vast Alexandra Palace in London, hired out for the night by Hoppy and Dave Howson of Middle Earth.

The Alexandra Palace was a series of Victorian glass and steel halls built in 1875 crowning the top of Muswell Hill, overlooking London like an aerie. The Great Hall’s awe-inspiring vaulted roof and 30-foot tall glass windows surrounded space for 12,000 with 2,000 more in orchestra stalls. The colossal Willis Organ, driven by steam engines and vast bellows, was under scaffolding for repairs.

The Dream began at 8pm and went through the night until 10 in the morning. Many groovers had been up since the night before at UFO, when Jimi Hendrix jumped up to play bass with Tomorrow. [They] arrived in black ties, blazers, and evening dress befitting attending a cultural event. A generous assortment of caftan and bell wearing ravers flowed through them, bursting into the Palace in high spirits.

Continued...

For many, the Dream was an epochal experience, as a ripple of recognition spread through the crowd, amazed at how many full-fledged freaks were in London, and how many they knew. The small London coterie sent out a wave that affected youth culture the world over. The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream brought the movement out into the open, propagated core ideas, and imploded, in the manner of mass cultural movements.

Dudley Edwards of art ensemble Binder, Edwards and Vaughn says, "For anyone who was privileged to be there, that was the event of the sixties. The huge interior space was lit with big film arc lights turning night into day. There was a feel of a medieval market place with stalls and people in harlequin costumes, acrobats here and jugglers there, a helter skelter."

Paying one-pound admission at the door, crowds streamed into the Hall. The scaffolding around the pipe organ like a baroque reliquary, a battery of spotlights accentuated looming shadows. Three film crews filmed proceedings. Indica gallery owner John Dunbar was at John Lennon’s home that evening. "We were watching TV and suddenly saw this thing was going on. So we thought, [sod] it, let’s go! We ended up at this place where everybody I’d ever known in my life swam before my eyes at one time or another. All eyes were vaguely on us because we were with John and I literally saw people I’d last seen at kindergarten and hadn’t seen since."

Selmer were volunteered by Blackhill to provide a PA system. Two chaps came down from their factory and set up a pitiful 100-watt PA, with two 2 x 12 combos and Selmer Goliath bass cabinet on either stage.

For the better of the night and morning, two bands played simultaneously on the two stages, often causing an unexpected merger of styles though also a headache as sound resounded off the vaulted roof. Mick Farren, "I swear I saw Lennon standing in [the] zone of dissonance moving forward and back looking quite fascinated."

[David] Medalla and half a dozen nubile dancers in flowing scarves and gauze danced freeform pirouettes under powerful lights that cast stark shadows of the dancers across the assembled throng. To the tune of the Beatles’ Tomorrow Never Knows, they performed a ballet of sorts dubbed the "fuzz death ballet." Nightstick wielding bobbies chased nymphs and Medalla, with silver reflective discs like the ones on Syd’s guitar affixed to legs and bum.

Jack Henry Moore and a small army of technicians dashed from one spot to another, fixing speakers threatening to fuse and rewiring light fixtures on the verge of collapse. 500,000 watts of lightshows galore lit up every inch of available wall space from a light gantry in the centre of the Palace. Underground films were screened overhead. Projectors beamed onto billowing white sheets taped with electrician’s tape to the scaffolding housing the Victorian organ. The centrepiece was a 70-foot tall helter-skelter slide rented for the night, which people clambered to the top of and spiralled down.

The mood was optimistic, as smiling, colourful dressed people milled with endless chemical quicksteps from corner to corner. A ritual lighting of joss sticks filled the Palace with sickly sweet smoke. A wire igloo with mosquito netting was set up in one corner, where banana skin joints, touted for hallucinogenic effects, were handed out. A bitter after-taste was all it left one with, though the idea was more of an intentional put-on anyhow. Couples grappled in the igloo all night.

Announced by MC Jeff Dexter dressed as a cardinal, complete with robes and vestment, rock bands filed on and off one after the other. The acts included American black comedian/activist Dick Gregory, Yoko Ono, Notting Hill sound artist (and later Pink Floyd collaborator) Ron Geesin and Syd’s Camberwell classmate, Barry Fantoni.

Peter Russell and his lightshow team, attached to Cambridge band 117, occupied the top tier while [art ensemble Binder, Edwards and Vaughn] cast overhead watch glass projections on sheets ringing the Palace. 117’s shows used thin liquid films sandwiched between slides, using heat or pressure (and sometimes injection) to move them. Some early Polaroid work as well.’

Edwards descended from the scaffolding to take in the scene. "It was all so relaxed. Denny Laine was just sitting on the floor strumming his acoustic guitar with no one paying any heed. John Lennon and John Dunbar just strolled through the crowds without interference."

Though obstruction from the Musician’s Union blocked a performance by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, bands pile drove through to the dawn.

The freak contingent was well represented by hardcore underground band The Flies, whom Miles cited as the world’s first punk band. With vocalist Robin Hunt draped in a sheet stolen from the lightshow, the Flies launched into their ferocious freak beat version of (I’m Not Your) Stepping Stone. Like the Brothers Grimm, the Flies formed part of the UFO cadre that shouted the Pink Floyd had sold out.

The Crazy World of Arthur Brown made an electrifying performance with a sprightly Arthur Brown in full makeup prancing like a shaman on ayahuasca with headdress in flames, shouting "I am the god of hellfire!"

From Amazon.com: Syd Barrett was an art school student when he founded Pink Floyd. Famous before his 20th birthday, Barrett led the charge of psychedelia onstage at London’s famed UFO club, and his acid-inspired lyrics became a hallmark of London’s 1967 Summer of Love.

The second edition of Palacios' Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd—Lost in the Woods, from Plexus Publishing Ltd.—completely revised, expanded and amended—will be available in time for Christmas, 2009. Visit Floydian Slips again for part two of this story chronicling the emergence of psychedelia.

Anita O'Day: Jazz On a Summer's Day

As a hardcore jazz concert film, this fails. But wait! If you view all of the commentary stuff *first*, then watch the actual film, it's a surrealistic journey back in time.Jazz On A Summer's Day* is cross-cultural, interracial—even abstract at times.

When you consider Newport, Rhode Island, in 1958 as the backdrop, then this film is an absolute cultural gem and a must-see for anyone interested in sociology of pre-60's America. In fact, Woodstock (the movie) would not have been what it was had not this film predated it by 10+ years.

Wikipedia cites that in "1999, the film was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being 'culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.'"

Anita O'Day in Jazz On a Summer's Day

Louis Armstrong, Dinah Washington, Thelonious Monk, Gerry Mulligan, George Shearing, and even Chuck Berry all appear, but it was the inimitable Anita O'Day who absolutely stole the show! Alan Kurtz provides a more thorough review of the event, the film, and related audio recordings over at jazz.com.

P.S.—Of note is that, at 1:33 in the embedded video clip, Atlantic Records' founder, Ahmet Ertegun, is seen in lower right portion of the video. Atlantic, of course, was the label for a veritable who's who in the music world, including Ray Charles (before jumping ship to ABC Dunhill).

*Using Amazon's Video On Demand, instantly watch this film on your PC by clicking the DVD cover image or the adjacent film title text link above.

David Gilmour Live In Gdansk!

This appears to be an excellent new double DVD/double CD set from the last David Gilmour concert to feature the late Rick Wright on keyboards and vocals. Guitar cacophony at its best, Astronomy Domine is one of my all-time favorite Floyd tracks.

Click here for the background story on Astronomy Domine. And here the BBC reviews the DVD.

In memory of Rick Wright and Kay Seeburg.

Another Brick In the Wall—DVD Review

Although this blog is named in honor of the Floyd and I had previously viewed snippets, last night marks the first time I've ever seen The Wall in its entirety—though it's been around for 25 years. Perhaps I was waiting for my own big screen, surround sound home theater. Perhaps not.

I don't need to prove my fanhood here; previous blog entries attest to my involvement with the band's music—Saucerful of Secrets having been a defining listening experience that permanently juggled my neurons. So those who were first indoctrinated to Pink Floyd through Dark Side of the Moon and/or The Wall may take me to task, but comments made by Mssrs. Wright and Gilmour lead me to believe they feel pretty much the same way. For, as keyboardist Rick Wright had posted on MySpace:

I'd like to meet a bassist (who) doesn't write songs about his dad all the time.

I believe it was in Nicholas Schaffner's excellent Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey where he reported David Gilmour was in regular battles with Roger Waters about the musicality of the the latter's work. It was Gilmour, then, who insisted that their recordings include a melody component—something to which Waters apparently wasn't, uh, attuned.

In listening to this work all the way through, it became clear why I never rushed out and bought this LP, having also been deeply disappointed by their prior effort, Animals. While Waters may be a terrific poet (and I believe him to be, especially after viewing the extra bits last night), Gilmour is much more the musician of the two, with an able assist from Wright in plotting the notational direction.

Assessing the music of The Wall, there are roughly four tracks that truly qualify as music I like to hear on a repeated basis, and—guess what—they're all Gilmour. And this is pretty much historical running backwards through their catalog.

BUT...about the movie. As all those interviewed pointed out, The Wall was very much a collaborative work of art, extending far beyond Waters' initial ideas. His reaching out to Gerald Scarfe for the live stage visuals, then later the movie, was an inspired choice. And Sir Alan Parker, as director, made an outstanding contribution, as did the cinematographer, the choreographer, and on down the line. Exploring first the inner turmoil of those having attained stardom, coupled with the alienation imposed on us all through our existence as humans ("How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?"), The Wall works as a very creative artwork. But is it entertainment?

During the included interview, Waters remarks that what the film lacks is humor—a key component to his work, he insists. (One wouldn't know it from listening to the Waters-penned Animals). In fact, he felt the film ran too long, which explains why Hey You—one of the more listenable tracks—was cut out of the movie (but added to the DVD as an extra bit).

The Wall's fascist rally scenes were particularly interesting in relation to whose idea it was to include them, Waters stating that he didn't provide the seed. Disturbingly, I saw myself in the crowd, exuberantly expressing my enthusiasm for anything eminating from the stage! How many times has each of us had that experience, with the performers either going through the motions or openly displaying their hostility toward the audience? Having been on the road for seven years as a seminar speaker before hundreds at a whack, I can relate. My guess is that, although it appears he denies it, there's more ownership to these scenes than Waters takes credit for. I wonder if his former bandmates might agree?

Neko Case & Robin Trower ~ DVD Concert Revue

Last night I watched a couple of disparate Netflix concert videos—disparate in the sense of musical genres visited. Both sounded terrific on the surround system, what with the subwoofer pumping up the bass through the sofa where I was seated.

The first DVD is an Austin City Limits performance by alt-country performer, Neko Case. If you haven't heard Neko, she has a range I haven't heard from many others, most notably on Deep Red Bells from her Blacklisted CD. She covers the song—an absolute favorite around here—well enough on this DVD, though it just isn't the same as the studio version with the latter's added vocal effects. Nevertheless, she puts on an awesome display during this performance—nervousness and all. Backed by Tom V. Ray on standup bass and Jon Rauhouse on banjo and Hawaiian slide guitar, Neko belts out tune after tune, each one impressive indeed. Sadly, Kelly Hogan falls way short as backup vocalist, but at least she doesn't get in the way.

For something completely different, the next performance, Living Out of Time, is by Robin Trower—he of the Jimi Hendrix School of Audiology. One has to be a wah-wah guitar fan to appreciate Trower's music, but hey! Celebrating his 60th birthday, he's in phenomenal shape here, after 40 years on the road and massive amounts of, uh, performance-enhancing substances. (The Tour de France officials should check his samples!) Played LOUD, the band plays a few tracks off recent releases, polished off by solid performances of classic rock staples such as Bridge of Sighs. The topper, though, was a perfect rendition of Daydream from his first release, Twice Removed From Yesterday. If there's any disappointment, it's that no material from In City Dreams or Caravan To Midnight is included, but the concert is only so long, right?

Hendrix In Detroit: Voodoo Child Rocks F1 Garage

Cuz I'm a Voodoo Chile...

I was blessed—or so you may think—to be one of those who heard/saw Jimi play live. It was back in—what, 1968?—at Detroit's Masonic Temple. I'm indifferent about having heard Jimi that particular evening, though, for two reasons.

First, Soft Machine, playing a warm-up role to Hendrix, completely stole the evening, between an incomparable light show and music that matched. If you've never heard Slightly All the Time from their Third release, reading this blog just paid off for you in spades. For me, this is one of those "desert island" recordings. Need I say any more? CONDITIONS: You should not be interrupted nor distracted in any way while listening to this piece for the first time, so maybe "lay back 'n groove on a (sunny) day" with this on your MP3 player, away from the Frisbee players, or wait until you know you have the house/apartment/yurt to yourself.

Back to the concert. Hendrix not only came on stage very late, but proceeded to put on one of the worst shows of his brief career with the Experience. In either Charles Cross' Room Full of Mirrors: A Biography of Jimi Hendrix or Kramer and McDermott's Hendrix: Setting the Record Straight (I don't remember which, but both are great reads), the author(s) point to Jimi's Cherokee blood vis a vis his reaction to alcohol as the culprit. Some 39 years later (!), I surmise this probably accounted for the exhibit we saw at Masonic that evening.

But I'm still very much a fan. So if you've got a moment, I'd like to relate another Hendrix, uh, "experience." The scene again is downtown Detroit, this time hosting its first Formula 1 Grand Prix event, with the Renaissance Center garage being given over to the likes of Team Lotus, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, and the like. After checking out some decent bands playing in Hart Plaza and hoisting a few, fellow F1 fanatic Dave Collie (RIP) and I started indiscriminately yanking on RenCen garage doors until, voila, our "Open, Sezme" command was magically acknowledged!

Strutting in like we belonged, what was that we heard? Getting louder as we approached Team Lotus? You betcha...those famous opening bass lines to Voodoo Child eminating from a pair of very sizeable speakers. It was fabulous. And LOUD—reverberating off of that massive concrete structure where another "Jimmy"—he of the Teamsters—is reported to be forever entombed. (A Pillar of Esteemed Citizenship?) Anyway, I don't think I've ever heard that track (no pun intended) sound so good. And yes, a rubber frog hung from the ceiling of the Renault garage.

What I didn't know—until last year—is who was responsible for those fabulous bass lines. I just assumed it was Noel Redding and let it go at that. But then I rented Classic Albums: Jimi Hendrix: Electric Ladyland from Netflix. You should, too. For the Hendrix fan, the DVD is so interesting, and so well produced, it very well may end up as a purchase for my library. Heck...it's an EXPERIENCE!

So who is our mythical bass player? I'm not going to tell you, but you may click here if you'd like to spoil the surprise with a hint.