Talkin' 'Bout My Generation!

I just heard on 100.3, The Sound, that Bob Segar is turning 66, and that he's thinking of hanging up his guitar.  He doesn't see himself touring at 67.  I understand his point, but it made me so very sad.

I've wanted to write about this subject for a very long time: the music from my generation, and how strange it feels to watch it fade away into the genre of "Classic Rock" or even worse "Old School".  Now, Classic Rock fits, however, there seem to be many opinions of what classic rock is.  When I see radio stations billboards crow about their classic rock playlist and I see "Captain and Tennille" or "Michael Jackson" on there, it makes me want to gnaw my wrists.

Since you're already reading, allow me to paint a picture for you.  In '64-'68 (my ages 9 to13), my narrow listening pleasure consisted of The Beatles (and still does), The Monkess (along with their TV show and the Partridge Family--in my defense, I never spent a nickel on a Partridge Family record.)  My radio station was 93 KHJ AM, the L.A. based top forty station.

Then, in my sophomore year of high school, I found Dave Anderson, or I should say he found me.  6'3", wire rim glasses and long, straight blond hair.  We instantly fell hopelessly, Romeo and Juliet, in love, as most first-lovers do.  Dave lived at home, but had his own room fixed up in the garage, separate from the main house.  It was there he took my hand and turned me on to real "music". 

His LP collection totalled 233; he kept count.  KMET FM was the station he listened to.  FM was "Underground" then.  KLOS was close behind.  You couldn't hear these stations on AM frequency; they weren't allowed . . . and were not subject to rules and regulations of AM.  The disc jockey's played what they wanted to play (my God, what a concept!).  They played underground LP's from Britain: Cream, Blind Faith, Led Zepplin, The Who, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, so many more--and not just the hits.  What they now call "Deep Cuts" were the norm for these radio pioneers.  We knew them because we drove all the way to Hollywood to get the LP's.  Only the coolest "heads"(stoners) at school knew where to go.  Amoeba Records was one, if I'm not mistaken.  Now I believe it's more commercialised; sad but true.

Dave had a state of the art stereo system (Quadraphonic) that he financed by selling pot from his garage.  He'd buy a kilo, a 2.5 lb. dense brick of delicious homegrown from Mexico, bust it up in a galvanized tub and fill plastic sandwich bags (no Ziplocks yet) two to three fingers full, tape it and put it in a lock box he'd kept under his bed.  One of these bags could be purchased for ten dollars.  Lids, they were called; only good friends were invited to this party-tribal-ritual.  ;)   He also sold acid, speed (or whites), reds (Seconal), hash oil, hashish and magic mushrooms.  He imbibed quite a bit, but being the lightweight I was, and still am, would take a fraction of whatever, but had just as much fun without loosing control or inviting the dangers of a "bad trip". 

But while I was under the influence, he'd slip his headphones on my head, make me comfortable on his pillowed bed, incense and candles aglow, and leave me in peace to "listen".

It's hard to find the right words to explain the worlds and feelings the music opened up for me.  My life up to that point had been loneliness, heartache and the starvation of soul.  My parent's were divorced.  All my brothers and sisters had grown old enough to "escape".  My brother to the hell of Viet Nam, My sisters to the nightmare of bad marriages.  My mother and her new husband drank in their tiny Valley apartment--so I was sent to live with my dad and his new wife.  They both worked 3pm to midnight.  So, you see, no one was ever home with me.  Except for weekends, I lived alone.  So when Dave and his new world came along, it sucked me in as sure a rainbow-colored whirlpool--and I loved, and still do, every second of it.  For the first time in my life, I had friends, a boy who loved me for me, and of course Sex.  I had beautiful music and freedom.  A new way to live my life--a fresh sense of me.  I was a Freak, a Head, a Stoner, a Hippie--and I say this with all honesty: for me, the drugs were a very minimal part.


And the music was dolled out in time.  New albums came out in the course of weeks and they were all we talked about.  When they did come out, we wore out the vinyl before attending, in a group, the opening concert for the LP we'd come to adore.  We didn't have itunes, we didn't have iPods.  We didn't have computers.  Nothing was instant. We had turntables and we got together as a group and lit our candles and incense and hookahs and heard the music together.  We shared and held our friendships like lifelines, which for most of us, they were.

The music today is obviously enjoyed by the young.  But it's a bombardment.  Everyday there's a new artist, song or group, video or award.  There doesn't seem to be any time to savor.  The lifestyle seems to be hauling-ass, a thousand miles an hour.  Maybe it's because I'm getting older.  No, it's for sure--I'm getting older.   Not that I like it.  But I wouldn't change the time in which I grew up for anything

I suppose this could be said of any generation, but Mine was the turning point of musical freedom.  So many genres came from that time.  None would exist without mine coming first.  The Stones wouldn't have been so blessed without the blues of Muddy Waters, etc.  The Beatles' great harmonies were inspired by The Everly Brothers and Roy Orbison, and on and on and on and on

I'm proud to say that I've influenced my two girls with my music; they love it like I do, as do their friends who happened to be in the vicinity at the time.

It wasn't just Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll.  It was a state of mind.
Watch "Almost Famous".  
All I'm saying is, well . . . "Talkin' 'bout my generation!"