The Art Of Extrication

As I type this it seems unlikely that I will ever post these thoughts, but I’m finding it necessary to at least get this issue off my mind and down on the page if for nothing else than going about the business of moving on.

About a year and a half ago, I started contributing some of my rock and roll posts for this other blog I stumbled upon. This other blog was well established in that it had many more actual readers than mine did. Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was expected to produce content, and produce it often.

This did not sit well with me. While I welcomed the opportunity to reach a larger number of people, I ultimately balked at my editor’s consistent demand for quantity over quality.
He was convinced that in order for the blog to be successful, “we” would have to post 20 entries per day. This was something I never signed up for. Especially when his idea of content would often consist of him puking out these one paragraph rants against members of the rock establishment. Basically, he loves to cast verbal stones of vitriol at the biggest names in music.

At first, I tried to cooperate. It wasn’t long though, before I realized that what I was writing ran contrary to this other blog’s modus operandi. It’s no secret that I’m not a big fan of today’s music. I’m sure that if I had lots of leisure time, I could find something recorded after the year1999 that appealed to me. I, in fact have on several occasions. My personal opinion towards artists like Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and their ilk are that they are not only overrated, they are nothing more than music industry board room creations manufactured like so many jars of peanut butter. In short, not worthy of my attention.

The difference is that I would never try to shove that opinion down your throat. Personal tastes aside, the music being made today is just not designed with me in mind. I can find some enjoyment in the backing tracks of much of today’s rap and hip-hop, but ultimately find the misogynistic , polarizing and at times violent nature of many of it’s lyrics highly distasteful.

Rock criticism has never been my aim. I try to be inclusive, to turn someone on to a record or a band that they might not be aware of. And if they are aware of them, then try to provide some small nugget or kernel of knowledge they might not have known. Before I put pen to paper, I do my research and I work as hard as I can to be correct in what I say. Most of the time all my research data is obtained via the world wide web. This is mainly due to time constraints and convenience. I wish I could use more printed sources when I write, but this is not exactly what you’d call a “paying gig”. So even though you could critically analyze much of what I do as lame Wikipedia re-writes with a dash of passion, I’m always extremely careful not to talk down to the audience.

So yeah, I have a serious problem with someone who “writes” things like “Jaan Wenner is a plank” or “60’s music is dead”. Or someone who dismisses Bob Dylan’s back catalog as “moldy”. If one wants to champion new artists , then that writer should do that. However, doing that and at the same time “writing” derogatory comments about the ghosts of rock and roll past is the ultimate in contradiction and calls to mind the old saying of “cutting off your nose to spite your face”. Especially when that same person tries to pass off his opinions as fact. I have absolutely no time for this “dick measuring approach” whatsoever.


Now, my former editor would probably reply by saying that if I in fact provided more content, then I could have played a more active role in the blog’s direction. This may be true, but when one’s basic statement of principles run so perpendicular and contrary to the establishment for which he “works” for, it becomes not only a losing battle, but a fight that I would just as soon not undertake.

The catalyst towards my ultimate resignation occurred one Sunday afternoon. I was reading that blog when I happened upon a review by one writer of Paul McCartney’s performance on “Saturday Night Live” the evening before. It was the typical “he’s old, we hate him” crap that this blog usually tries to pass off as actual content. However, within the review came an incorrect observation by the writer that Macca was NOT actually playing the bass. They were accusing the artist of miming his bit while appearing on national television. Then , my former editor chimes in AGREEING with the writer and spewing forth some other crap about the keyboard player covering for him.

Does anyone else see the irony here? A blog that absolutely loves artists who regularly “perform” live to pre-recorded backing tracks calling out an artist that is at least in partly responsible for creating the music industry as we know it of miming on stage. This was compounded by the fact that their observation was completely incorrect.

How could I let this stand? I couldn’t! Compelled to respond, I opened up the “comment” section underneath the post and basically said that these writers were allowing their own cynicism to cloud their view of the facts. Well, you would have thought I had called them assholes and pissed on their shoes for good measure. Repressed hostility from my former editor came bubbling over with a slew of insults volleyed back at me. First he said I was “boring”, which coming from him, I actually took as a compliment.

So here he was defending his blog the way a parent would defend his or her child. Which is all well and good I guess, and sort of admirable in a strange psychotic way. But if you’re going to have a controversial (or in this case, completely incorrect) point of view, it’s a little naïve to think that nobody will ever call you on it eventually. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, but in the meantime at least check your facts and make sure you’re right before you go spouting off and accusing me of sabotage.

Looking back now, it’s better for all parties involved that I extricated myself from that situation when I did. Now, I get to write only when I want to and when I feel like I actually have something to say. This blog may not spout out 20 posts a day, but I am extremely proud of it’s meager contents. Moreover, I vehemently stand behind each and every sentence comfortable in the knowledge that I will never have to change my mind about anything I wrote. At the same time however, I will always consider myself enlightened enough to accept someone else's point of view.

The curious life and tragic death of Randy California

On January 2nd, 2011 it will be 14 years since Randy Craig Wolfe drowned in the ocean off the coast of Molokai, Hawaii while successfully preventing his son from suffering the same fate. He managed to push him towards the shore in the fierce undercurrent, but had no energy left to save himself.

Wolfe, better known as Randy California, was a guitarist and singer for the rock group Spirit. Founded in 1967, he was one of the group’s original members and was also the band’s principal songwriter, penning the band’s two biggest hits, “I Got A Line On You”, and “Nature’s Way”.

The band’s musical output is diverse, one that defies categorization. Within the grooves of their astounding first four albums are elements of jazz, folk, power pop and even the roots of progressive and jazz/rock fusion. “The 12 Dreams Of Dr. Sardonicus” , arguably their greatest work, is a bona fide masterpiece that belongs in the record collections of all serious listeners.

A guitar genius at the tender age of 15, Randy met Jimi Hendrix at Manny’s Guitar Shop in New York City during the summer of 1966. He had migrated there from California with his stepfather Ed Cassidy who together were performing at several small jazz clubs in the area.

After hearing him play, Hendrix got Randy to join his band, which were then known as “Jimmy James and the Blue Flames”. There was another guitarist from Texas in the band named Randy, so Hendrix started referring to them separately as “Randy California” and “Randy Texas” to avoid confusion.

Upon being “discovered” by Animals bassist Chas Chandler, it was decided that Hendrix would go to England with his new manager with the intention of forming a band. Jimi wanted Randy California in the group that was to become the Experience, but Randy’s parents would not allow it, since he was only 15 and had still not finished high school.

Returning home with a new nickname, Randy, along with his stepfather would form “Spirit”. The success of their second album “The Family That Plays Together” found them touring the United States in 1968. Opening for them on several dates was a new band from England called Led Zeppelin. It was most likely here that Jimmy Page first heard Randy’s song “Taurus” which features a guitar part that is strikingly similar to a Led Zeppelin song that would be recorded a few years later, known as “Stairway To Heaven”.

Some bad management decisions (such as not playing the Woodstock festival) combined with the death of his good friend Hendrix, a disillusioned and depressed Randy California left Spirit in 1969. He would record and perform under a few different band configurations before re-acquiring the legal rights to use the name “Spirit” in 1974.
While he would never approach the quality of those early records, Randy California continued to write, record and perform under the “Spirit” banner until that fateful day in 1997, where he died while saving the life of his own son.

Click below to hear "Mr. Skin" by Spirit