Category Archives: Bands

#148 – Bitch

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#148 – Bitch by The Rolling Stones

The Stones!

– I’ve just deleted about a month’s worth of Classic Rocker ramblings about this song because… Well, frankly – I didn’t have much to say about it. Bitch is a great song by The Rolling Stones and opened side two the classic LP Sticky Fingers. But it doesn’t achieve the classic greatness as the album’s side one, opening track, Brown Sugar.

It’s not a throw-away either, when considering the Stones’ earlier albums included a lot of filler tracks. But in all my years as a Classic Rocker and Stones fan, I’ve never had anyone tell me Bitch was their number one, all-time favorite Stones tune.

I like it, so don’t get me wrong. When the song comes up on my digital playlist, I’ll crank up the volume.

I also remember – and I checked an online video to confirm this memory – Bitch was the second song in the concert set played by The Rolling Stones during their 1972 Exile On Main Street tour. And since I was a teenaged fan at that tour’s concert stop at The Akron Rubber Bowl and distinctly remember how everyone seemed to fly out of our seats when the group opened with Brown Sugar, I’m sure we were still standing through Bitch and whatever songs followed.

But like I mentioned, I had been rambling on during an earlier version and going nowhere. I was making an honest effort to place this song in a Classic Rocker perspective as a Stones fan and highlight its inclusion into this Dream Song list. I wanted to give some background into what was going on during the spring of 1971 when we were all cranking up the volume to Sticky Fingers. But to be honest, I really don’t really have much.

Life is a…

The song was rocking through my head on the morning of December 11th. I own a copy, of course. That’s a “given” since it’s on Sticky Fingers, which every Classic Rocker and Rolling Stones fan should own. If not, they need to vacate both titles.

But I hadn’t heard it in a while.

It’s not one of the classic Stones songs that the average fan would feature in a Rolling Stones playlist. But it has a solid Keith Richards rock ‘n’ roll groove and a vocal from Mick Jagger that is as identifiable to his sound as any other Stones classic. Plus, it’s always fun to hear. But because I hadn’t heard it in a while, it goes into the subliminal category and also an honorary place in my personal rock ‘n’ roll memory bank. Why? Well, as also mentioned – it was the second song played during the band’s legendary Exile On Main Street tour set and I was there to see it.

But do I really have any other memories to dredge up when hearing Bitch? Just one…

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Three of the wildest concerts in Beatles – and rock & roll – history!

The Beatles At Shea Stadium:

The Story Behind Their Greatest Concert

+

The Beatles In Cleveland:

Memories, Facts & Photos About The Notorious 1964 & 1966 Concerts

*

Both books available in paperback and eBook through Amazon.com

For information about Dave’s author programs visit BeatlesProgram.com

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Sticky Fingers was the “album of the moment” when I was graduating from high school. Yeah, there were some others – but since I can’t think of them offhand at the moment, this will go down as the main one. I mean seriously, when you think about it – what other song would you want to get the party going when you were seventeen years old in 1971 other than Brown Sugar?

Then flip it over and Bitch opened side two? That’s all it took to get the party started.

So, if you want the memory…

During this crucial teenage period in our lives, which was our high school graduation, a friend opened his backyard swimming pool to our classmates for an afternoon party. To say he and his family were “straight” would be an understatement when compared to what was going on in the world during 1971 when long hair was a statement, rock music was a soundtrack, and dodging the military draft was a healthy male’s activity.

While a good portion of our small town, teenaged clique wanted to be considered “hippies,” it was actually a physical and psychological impossibility while living in northern Ohio at that time. We wanted to believe it, but there was no way our protected and small-town environment could ever be compared to San Francisco or London. But we mostly seemed to get along, probably because of our youth and ideals. When looking back under the haze of a new political climate, it’s amazing now to think we could have all been in the same room, let alone the same backyard for an afternoon swimming party that included both “straights and long-hairs” in 1971.

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But there was no hippie or straight attitude involved that afternoon during a graduation party. It was strictly for sun, swimming and flirting with the opposite sex. Drinking low-alcohol content beer and looking for deeper love was not acceptable at this parent chaperoned party, but would be the featured attractions when we were under our own teenaged supervision later at night.

So why am I bringing this up?

Not The Stones, but this is a diving board!

No other reason except I can hear Bitch in my mind while I think back to opening a wooden gate into the side yard of our friend’s backyard that led to his family’s swimming pool. And then sometime – it had to be within an hour or so after we’d all arrived, one of our friends jumped on the pool’s diving board and it broke in half.

Embarrassing?

I’m sorry to say that would be an understatement for a teenaged guy working hard at a high school graduation party to make good impressions under intense peer pressure. Think back to your teenage years – and yeah, we’re talking pretty devastating. But he got over it, as everyone else did. I’m just glad it wasn’t me.

Okay, so that’s not the best or funniest Classic Rocker memory, but it’s another one that’s true and still swimming around in my mind. When I hear Bitch blasting out from my car speakers almost five decades later, I think about swimming pools and diving boards. I also hope that if I ever jump off one and into one – and I will someday – the board will be extra secure.

But then again, since we’re far from being teenagers, who really cares? My insurance will pay for it.

Have a comment? Please use the contact form below.

Here are The Rolling Stones performing Bitch from the 1972 Exile On Main Street Tour

 

To purchase the classic LP Sticky Fingers with the song Bitch, visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2020 – North Shore Publishing

#150 – Bus Stop

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#150 – Bus Stop by The Hollies

Waiting for a bus?

– After almost five decades of listening, this classic pop song suddenly took on an entirely new meaning for me. There was nothing about the recording that had changed. It was still the original by The Hollies, who have always been one of my favorite British Invasion bands. And I’m pretty sure most of their first generation fans still pull up images of young love at bus stops every time they hear it.

And most likely, they’re thinking of the stops where they were waiting for a school bus while listening to this one on portable transistor radios.

But those similar types of memories have taken a backseat to what I now think about whenever Bus Stop hits on my personal playlist. Usually, that’s quite often. But for some reason I hadn’t heard this 1966 Top Ten hit in quite a while. Maybe it’s because of my recent memories? Well…, that’s doubtful because it’s a great song with a catchy tune. But when I woke up with these great harmonies and raga-style guitar riff (Indian music was a fad in 1966) in my head on November 17th, it was queued up in the subliminal category of Dream Songs.

Forty-nine years after The Hollies recorded and released Bus Stop, our triple threat (actor / singer / dancer) son Dangerous Paul was going into his junior year at a highly respected music conservatory in Cincinnati, Ohio. For some reason, the genius (have you ever heard of sarcasm? I just used it…) of a department head scheduled auditions for ALL the musical productions that would be performed during the entire school year on the FIRST day the students returned from summer break.

If for any reason a student missed these written in stone auditions, they could kiss goodbye any chance for a decent lead or supporting role in every production that year. If they couldn’t return to the conservatory in time, they might as well take their high-priced tuition money and flush it into the Ohio River.

A boomer box office smash hit!

For some students, this schedule wouldn’t be a problem. But for Dangerous Paul and many others who had been practicing their craft in musical theater productions around the country, the return trek to campus for these ultra-important auditions could play out like a favorite boomer movie, The Great Race. And if you’re not familiar with this 1965 Blake Edwards classic starring Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Natalie Wood, I suggest you head to your library and find a copy in the classic film section.

Dangerous Paul had spent his summer playing the role of Link Larkin in a production of the musical Hairspray. It was in a beautiful summer lake resort in Maine that had only one strike going against it. The final performance of the show was the night before his afternoon auditions in Cincinnati. Oh yeah, I guess strike two could be called because airline flights out of the area and to Cincinnati were not frequent and very expensive.

Oh… okay… Strike three – he needed his car to get from the airport to his on campus auditions, and his parents, played in this classic boomer adventure by my wife Drivin’ Deb and myself – had it with us in Chicago.

So, The Great Race was on…

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Three of the wildest concerts in Beatles – and rock & roll – history!

The Beatles At Shea Stadium:

The Story Behind Their Greatest Concert

+

The Beatles In Cleveland:

Memories, Facts & Photos About The Notorious 1964 & 1966 Concerts

*

Both books available in paperback and eBook through Amazon.com

For information about Dave’s author programs visit BeatlesProgram.com

————————————————————————

We drove the car to the Cincinnati Airport, which is actually in Kentucky. To me, that begs for a joke. But there’s really no need because the real laughs are coming soon enough anyway. Dangerous Paul and a few fellow cast members made the late night drive through the woods of Maine to an airport in New Hampshire, made various flight connections and landed in Cincinnati (okay, Kentucky) with hardly any time to spare. We were waiting for him and did The Great Race to campus where he made the auditions.

In the meantime, after delivering Dangerous Paul’s car for the school year, Drivin’ Deb and I sat in his off-campus apartment trying to figure out how we’d make it back to Chicago. We found out very quickly the airfares were outrageous, the car rental fees were ridiculous, and passenger trains didn’t seem to have a direct route (and they also weren’t cheap).

Finally, I hit on a different idea.

Our ride

During our drive we had seen colorful buses that advertised super cheap fares. By that I mean, starting at one dollar and not moving that far up in price. We googled the company, found a number for reservations and purchased two cheap tickets home. The bus from Cincinnati to Chicago only made the trip once per day and our Bus Stop pick up was eight o’clock the next morning.

Drivin’ Deb and I stayed in a hotel downtown and made a night out of it at the local casino playing penny slot machines. We figured rest wouldn’t be a problem on the bus and planned to sleep during the seven hour ride to Chicago.

If only…

After only a few hours of shut eye in the hotel bed, we grabbed our bags, took a cab to the designated bus stop corner and found a long queue already waiting. And yes – I’m borrowing the British term for “line” used in the Hollies song because it fits with this topic. With the wait lasting past our promised time of departure, a car finally pulled up and stopped. A woman got out and announced – for whatever reason – the new bus stop has been moved to a corner across the street. Along with our fellow queue members we dragged our suitcases to the designated promised land, and again waited.

A long HOT wait!

Probably about an hour after it had been promised, our transportation arrived.

At this point, it should be noted this was a late August day in Cincinnati. We’re talking southern Ohio where it’s not unusual for the temperature to ride in the high nineties with enough humidity in the air to turn the outdoors into a steam room. By the time we started boarding the bus, all I could think about was getting off and taking another shower – after taking a needed nap, of course.

I don’t remember if it was a general announcement made to everyone, or someone had overheard the bus driver talking on his phone. Either way it doesn’t matter because the next glitch in our travel plans was this colorful bus having a broken air conditioner. The options were to sit by an open window or wait for the next bus – which wouldn’t be until the next day. Most of our group decided to sit on the upper level of the double-decker that had air vents – similar to car sunroofs. At least we could feel the rush of air over us as we traveled up the highway.

But we also could (almost) feel the brush of a big tree limb as our driver pulled out and knocked a few branches off a large tree. And yes, a few leaves fell into our upper deck through the open air vents.

Not going anywhere!

Then the fun really started – as in rain. As we whipped up the highway toward Indianapolis, the sky grew dark and a steady rain began falling. And yeah, that included falling into our upper deck through the vents. The heat was stifling, and it seemed the humidity wasn’t going to break anytime soon, despite the rain. So rather than screaming for the bus to stop and close the vents, Drivin’ Deb and I dug through our suitcases for hooded sweatshirts (with the college logo) and used them to cover our heads and faces to block both the wind and the rain.

Yeah – you’re right. It really sucked.

After picking up more passengers in Indianapolis, who must have truly been miserable stuck sitting on the lower deck of the bus without air conditioning or an open air vent, we were back on the highway headed north to Chicago. But it wasn’t as easy as it might sound.

In fact, it really sucked.

The State Police

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Indiana, our bus broke down. It rolled to a stop on the side of the highway. The driver could be seen walking outside talking on his phone, while someone else that seemed to work for the company (perhaps joining our no-so-magic bus ride in Indianapolis), appeared in the upper deck and told us we might be more comfortable outside since the rain had stopped. With the heat turning the doomed bus into an easy bake oven, we exited to wait alongside a busy highway for what the bus company might have in store for us next.

Drivin’ Deb and I were part of a motley crew of bus travelers that had been subject to extreme heat, wind and rain for hours, and were now stranded on the side of an overpass built over a small creek. Trucks and cars zoomed past us, with a few blasting their horns, which made it sound like they were taunting us. More than a few times I saw the middle fingers from some of our fellow motley crew passengers respond to the blowers.

Rescue mission arrives!

Okay, to make a bad story come to a quick end, eventually a state police car pulled up behind our broken down bus and turned on the police lights. Calls were made and within a couple hours a replacement bus rescued us. We had a quick stop at a nearby McDonald’s for lunch, paid for by the bus company. Yeah, that might sound good – but it didn’t make the food taste any better.

A few hours later in an air conditioned bus, we had caught up with the rain and followed it all the way to downtown Chicago. Drivin’ Deb and I dragged our suitcases over the wet sidewalks to the train and eventually to the airport where we had parked our car. After picking up our family member Snickers from the doggy hotel, where I’m sure he had been much cooler and dryer than we were during our bus ordeal, we made it home.

Bus Stop? Yeah – I love the song by The Hollies.

Bus Trip? I’ve just given you the entire story of our Great Race home, starring Drivin’ Deb and myself. And as I’m sure you will agree, there was nothing about our bus trek that deserved to be put to music. And if it was, I’m sure the song would suck also.

Here’s a video of The Hollies performing Bus Stop in 1966 – with a great stereo remix. Enjoy!

 

To purchase Greatest Hits by The Hollies with Bus Stop, visit Amazon.com.

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2020 – North Shore Publishing

#151 – It’s a Little Too Late

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#151 – It’s a Little Too Late by Tanya Tucker

Country Rocker

I’ve had my own personal music debate going on for quite a while. First of all, there’s rock music. There’s also country music. When you mix them up and give it a few shakes, that turns into country-rock.

To me, that makes three different styles of music.

But, is there really that much difference between rock and country? I tend to think so, but sometimes one can almost appear as the other, which leads us to another question:

Is Tanya Tucker a classic rock artist? 

Not really, but she can certainly rock.

Is she a country artist?

Heck, yeah.

So, what is she doing on this list by a Classic Rocker? Easy explanation…

The Classic Rocker woke up with Tanya Tucker on his mind.

Alright, I actually wrote that so it would seem like I was having dreams about Tanya Tucker. I’m not saying that would be a bad thing, but it wouldn’t be an honest thing. Her song It’s a Little Too Late was what was actually going through my mind on the morning of October 28th. And thanks to that subliminal musical message, accurately stated as such since I hadn’t heard it in a very long time, it means The Classic Rocker’s favorite Female Country Rocker has finally made the Dream Song list.

Walking with Tanya Tucker!

And I’m mighty glad she’s here, y’all. But as always, there’s more to the story than just waking up with a song in my head. In this case, it includes a memory of walking with Tanya. And it wasn’t just a dream.

Sometime during the summer of 1993, I made a deal.

I saw a notice in our local newspaper looking for weekly entertainment columnists. I don’t remember exactly what the ad said, but it called for three or four writing samples previewing or reviewing concert events. Since I was newly relocated from Los Angeles, had a background in the entertainment business and was searching for a new career, I whipped up a few I thought were descriptive, entertaining and most of all, humorous.

I applied for the job.

After sending in my submission, I received a phone call from the newspaper entertainment editor to set up an interview. We met in the publisher’s office and to my surprise, it turned out the job I had applied for was as a weekly columnist about country music.

Since y’all might not have figured it out from reading these ramblings, I’m a Classic Rocker and not a country music aficionado.

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I was anxious to start my professional writing career, which I never saw coming at me until reading the newspaper advertisement, but also wanted to make the job interesting for me personally. So, I suggested a deal. I’d be happy to write about country music, but since I could better be called a comedy aficionado (where did I come up with that word anyway?) I’d also like to do a second weekly column on comedy happenings in the area. And for that second and very separate column, I made an offer to write it for half of what they were going to pay me for my new regular country music column.

Throwing money at newspaper people works.

I got the gig writing two weekly columns for the salary of one and a half weekly columns. Let’s just say negotiations were not my strong point in this career effort.

The dual columnist gig came with media passes and review tickets for most of the shows my wife, Cowgirl Debbie and I wanted to see. In addition to writing about these events, I also scored interviews with many of the country artists and comedians.

Yeah – it was very cool.

During one day’s mail delivery, I received an invitation to attend a pre-concert soundcheck for a country music concert. To be honest, I don’t remember all the performers on the bill except for Allison Kraus and Union Station and the headliner.

Tanya Tucker.

Black Velvet Whiskey

Somewhere during her long career, which started when she was thirteen and had a hit record with Delta Dawn, Ms. Tucker had earned a reputation for being a bit of a wild child. Now, I don’t have any specifics, nor can I make any accusations. I honestly don’t know how that term even became associated with her. But by the time I rolled onto the landscape with my little weekly column, she was not only one of the reigning queens of country music but also one of its biggest headliners.

And by that, I mean headlines – as in supermarket tabloids and gossip magazines.

Again, I can’t dredge up any specifics. I’m only pulling up memories that might have been on my mind when I learned I’d be meeting Tanya Tucker – which is one of the very cool things that’s possible when you’re armed with a media pass and invitation to a pre-concert soundcheck.

This was an afternoon rendezvous at a sports arena in Toledo, Ohio. I’m sure there were more than a few other performers, but other than sitting in the bleachers near Alison Kraus and Union Station (a polite group of bluegrass musicians) I only remember Tanya Tucker.

When she walked on stage to test sound levels with her backing band, it seemed like everyone – even the bluegrass’ers – paid attention. I couldn’t tell you all songs she sang, but I know a couple were off her 1993 album Soon and A Little Too Late from her latest Greatest Hits album released only a few months before.

How do I know this for certain? Because I went out and bought both the next day.

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HOLIDAY SHOPPING!

Three of the wildest concerts in Beatles – and rock & roll – history!

The Beatles At Shea Stadium:

The Story Behind Their Greatest Concert

+

The Beatles In Cleveland:

Memories, Facts & Photos About The Notorious 1964 & 1966 Concerts

*

Both books available in paperback and eBook through Amazon.com

For information about Dave’s author programs visit BeatlesProgram.com

————————————————————————

As she left the stage and headed to her dressing room it was my job to represent my loyal country music column readers by saying hello. Flashing my media pass, I opened a gate and somehow (what are the odds?) found myself walking next to Tanya Tucker. Keeping up with her stride for stride, I had time for a quick introduction (quick because I only had to introduce myself) and ask a couple questions about her latest tour and album that have slipped from my mind over the decades.

But asking questions really wasn’t the fun part.

Like many of the country stars I’ve interviewed, Tanya was much nicer than any supermarket tabloid writer would have prepared me to expect. It didn’t seem to bother her at all that I was from a smaller market newspaper or that she had never even set eyes on me before we were walking together through an almost deserted sports arena.

And there certainly was nothing about her that advertised wild child until…

Tanya Tucker & The Classic Rocker

I had a small 35mm camera and asked if we could take a photo together. She stopped, said “sure” and put her arm around me like we had been best friends forever. Was I thrilled? Heck, yeah.

After all, this was Tanya Tucker.

And that was it. I thanked her for answering my questions, for being so nice and – especially – for two very cool photos. Now, if I had wanted to gain a little national notoriety by slipping them to a low-class newspaper tabloid just to see my name in print without the salary-earning “by” line in front of it… Well, that was never a thought or an intention. They were just for my readers…. AND me!

Well, sort of…

After the photos appeared in my weekly column, I made a point of leaving the newspaper in a place where Cowgirl Debbie might “somehow” see it and “somehow” realize how lucky she was. After all, it was pretty clear that Tanya Tucker looked happy hanging out with me – so obviously, I should be considered a hot commodity as a husband.

But honestly, what are the odds something like that would happen? I’ll tell you right now from Cowgirl Debbie’s and – I’m assuming – Tanya’s point of view.

Nada.

Instead of added extra leverage for me in case of any misunderstandings or mishaps that could be directly – or even indirectly – related to being, my fault, my hoped for status as a hot commodity would come back to haunt me. In other words, Cowgirl Debbie was not impressed. For weeks after when the circumstances were not in my favor, her ending rallying cry would be:

“Why don’t you call your girlfriend Tanya to see if she’d put up with this?”

That might have interested a supermarket tabloid, if only it were true…

Have a comment? Please use the form below.

Thanks for reading – and keep rockin’!

Here’s a video of Tanya Tucker performing It’s a Little Too Late.

 

 

To purchase Tanya Tucker’s 20 Greatest Hits with It’s a Little Too Late visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2019 – North Shore Publishing

#152 – How Many More Times

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#152 – How Many More Times by Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin

– I might be in a time warp because I can’t think of any other song that has switched-up decades on me like this one. I know that statement might leave you a bit dazed and confused, but this 1969 blast of hard blues rock has morphed Led Zeppelin into one of my favorite surf groups of the 2000’s.

Yeah, I know. I’m a very confused – and a bit dazed – Classic Rocker. But there is a reason…

How Many More Times was the final track on side two of Led Zeppelin’s self-titled debut album. Then again, their first four albums were all self-titled with ascending numbers to help us keep track of which one we were listening to. And though this wasn’t officially assigned a Roman numeral, it still goes down as Led Zeppelin I.

And it still goes down as this Classic Rocker’s favorite Led Zep album.

I can put the needle down on track one and let it go though both sides until the end. Led Zeppelin IV would be my second fav with Stairway To Heaven and II after that with Whole Lotta Love, but there are tracks on both those LPs where I’d pick up the stereo needle (I’m doing vinyl memories here) and skip to the next song.

I never had to do that with Led Zeppelin I.

Signed, sealed, delivered

My introduction to the group happened when I was in high school and hanging around my best friend’s house. I was waiting for him to get ready so we could go out and do something when his younger brother – who was actually closer to me in age – told me he had just bought this new album by this new band. He said I needed to hear one of the songs because it was “really scary.”

I don’t remember any “really scary” rock or pop songs before 1969.

I’ll guess guitar feedback solos from Jimi Hendrix could stretch imaginations to the dark side, though they never did with me. His top songs, Purple Haze and Foxy Lady were standards at school dances along with Herman’s Hermits and The Beatles.

Also Jim Morrison’s lyrics with The Doors were supposed to be sinister in some way, but again they never took my mind there. The group was more pop at this time with Hello, I Love You, Touch Me and others that made Morrison more of a pop star than the Lizard King legend that grew up around him later.

————————————————————————

Three of the wildest concerts in Beatles – and rock & roll – history!

The Beatles At Shea Stadium:

The Story Behind Their Greatest Concert

+

The Beatles In Cleveland:

Memories, Facts & Photos About The Notorious 1964 & 1966 Concerts

*

Both books available in paperback and eBook through Amazon.com

For information about Dave’s author programs visit BeatlesProgram.com

————————————————————————

So we sat down in his living room, he dimmed the lighting for visual effect, and cranked up Dazed and Confused. And yeah – it sounded “really scary.” I remember sitting on the couch examining the album sleeve cover with the Hindenburg Zeppelin exploding. On the back there was a photo of the four band members staring at the camera. That was my introduction to Led Zeppelin and my friends and I really had no clue they would go on to become one of the biggest rock groups ever.

Surf’s Up!

How Many More Times joined this list on October 27th. But as you might remember from the dazed and confused remark I made to open this Classic Rocker rambling, it wasn’t a “really scary” scene going through my head that morning.

It was somewhere around 2005 and instead of a dimly lit living room, there was bright sunshine over sand and waves at Florida’s Cocoa Beach. And instead of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, my ten-year old son Dangerous Paul and sixteen-year old nephew Battling Blake were competing in a surfing contest.

And no, this Spring Break family adventure didn’t include a cover version of Led Zeppelin I being given the surf treatment by The Beach Boys or Jan & Dean. It was the original album I had been introduced to in my friend’s “really scary” darkened living room decades earlier, now blasting out from concert-sized speakers loud enough for sea-soaked surfers and sun-drenched beachcombers to hear over crashing waves, screeching seagulls, amplified announcements and a cheering crowd.

The surfing contest itself was also different.

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There were heats for the professionals and amateurs, but the event we were there for was the “first-timers.” The only rule to enter was that you had never surfed before. The winner would be the one that most impressed the judges while actually standing on a board and riding a wave.

Dangerous Paul and Battling Blake fit the novice requirements and along with a few others, were given a quick surfing lesson on the beach. Then they were set loose in the waves as Led Zeppelin I provided the soundtrack.

Not him – but close enough!

Both guys did better than expected with Dangerous Paul, thanks to a couple years of competitive gymnastics and a show-off attitude, trying headstands on his board. He came close a few times before wiping out and it was worth the cheers from the crowd seated in the stands on the beach.

Both finished in the top three out of… well, I don’t remember how many competed, but it didn’t matter. They each won a medal, special “water shirts” with a surfboard brand logo, and bragging rights for winning a surfing contest without knowing how to surf.

Very cool.

So depending on whether I’m sitting in a darkened living room or in bright sunshine somewhere near a beach, How Many More Times and can fit the soundtrack for both. And if that doesn’t leave me dazed and confused, I don’t know what else will.

Cowabunga dudes – and keep rockin’!

Have a comment? Please use the form below.

Here’s a 1969 Led Zeppelin television appearance performing How Many More Times.

 

 

To purchase Led Zeppelin I – The Classic Rocker’s fav Zep LP – visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2019 – North Shore Publishing

#153 – Heart of Glass

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#153 – Heart of Glass by Blondie

Blondie

– I’ll go ahead and claim to have developed at least some semblance of New York City street smarts by the time we closed out the 1970’s. That’s a brave statement considering I’d only lived in the city for a couple years. It was basically the result of a make-it-or-get-out survival technique learned from moving to the city while it was stuck in the seediest era of its modern history. With lots of time riding the subways and a job at Broadway theaters that included making night deposits of large sums of money in the seediest of all the seedy neighborhoods, Times Square, I picked up a defense mechanism that native city dwellers are born with:

Keep my eyes open and my senses on alert.

I was never near being as street as the punks and new wave rockers that hung around the seedy clubs in The Bowery and Manhattan’s Lower East Side. For one reason, that scene never appealed to me. I can understand later generations glossing it over as 1970’s urban poverty rock and roll chic thanks to the great music that came out of clubs like CBGB and The Great Gildersleeves. But I was more inclined to hang around neighborhoods where I didn’t have to pay too close attention to anyone walking behind me when I went out to buy a newspaper or cup of coffee.

There was no way I would fit in with that scene’s hard core street smart society.

Debbie Harry

By the time I arrived, the bands that had made it out of the Bowery clubs were a bit older and had moved onto bigger stages. That would include The Ramones, Talking Heads and Blondie, just to mention the upper tier of famous. What was left behind seemed to be mostly teenagers and early twenty-something wannabe’s who gravitated to what was still a seedy neighborhood after the now-gone rockers had given it some notoriety.

Is that where Heart of Glass takes me for this episode of The Classic Rocker?

To be honest, not really. As mentioned, I wasn’t part of the downtown scene where Blondie and the others had paid their dues. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what was going on.

I had heard of Blondie by the time the song came out in the winter of 1979. Anyone with an interest in pop music living in Manhattan would have to. But I don’t remember the song or band being anything close to ground-breaking or the new thing everyone always seemed to be waiting for. Heart of Glass was just one of many catchy songs getting a lot of play on the radio and in clubs where we would hang out.

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But it wasn’t ground-breaking or a new thing to rock my subconscious when I woke up with it in my head on October 26th. It was on my digital playlist and I had just heard it before heading off to my mind’s Club Dreamland. So with a flair of street smarts, I’ll shove it into the recent memory category.

Not too seedy for me

Even though I don’t recall anything specific when listening to Blondie’s Heart of Glass, it inspires me to dredge up images of the other New York City club scenes we hit while this song was riding the music charts. I never ventured inside CBGB, though I did rock to a few bands in the neighboring Great Gildersleeves. For the most part, the places we hit didn’t need an extreme teenaged punk attitude or dangerous look to fit in. But a sense of street smarts didn’t hurt.

I’ll name-drop a few.

Studio 54 was still a hot spot for the disco-scene wannabe’s, even though it was on its last legs the couple of times I went there. I don’t remember having any problems getting by the legendary velvet rope doorman, but once inside my interest was mainly just to look around, have a couple drinks and dance to a couple songs.

It was also cool to have some bragging rights just to say I had been there (and done that). And that’s what I just did (thanks for reading and being so impressed – ha!).

Next…

Doesn’t look like a Sunday night

My pals and I also hit Max’s Kansas City on (usually) Sunday nights. It was considered an “off night” based on crowds that packed the place on Fridays and Saturdays, and we could always get a seat at the bar. For a Blondie connection, Debbie Harry used to be a server at Max’s. But she had left for the music charts by the time we rolled in.

The third club I’m reminded of from this era was another legend, The Mudd Club which was located on White Street in Lower Manhattan. Since the TriBeCa district was a long haul for my gang of non-punks who were centered in Midtown Manhattan near Gramercy Park and Union Square, we only sprung for the taxi fare when it was a planned destination.

And since the venue was earning a major destination reputation for the rock and new wave scene in 1979, we made the field trip a couple of times just to say – once again – we had been there (and done that).

In case you’re not familiar with The Mudd Club and its reputation, check out the Talking Heads song, Life During Wartime.

“This ain’t no Mudd Club, or CBGB, I ain’t got time for that now.”

So yeah, I’m talking about THAT Mudd Club. And I have time for that right now…

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Our first visit was almost a major disappointment. After my then-girlfriend and two buddies got out of our cab on a dark White Street sometime after midnight, we saw the line to get in stretched around the block. There was also a velvet rope type of atmosphere with a large bouncer not letting anyone in until he felt like it.

At least that’s what it seemed like. It also seemed like he was not going to feel like letting us in.

The Mudd Club

Since my girlfriend wasn’t the type to stand in line and had born-in-her street smarts as a native New Yorker, she led the charge to find an alternative entrance. While sneaking through an alley behind the club, we spotted a door. We thought it could be a back door to The Mudd Club, but there was no way… And if it was, there was no way it would be unlocked…

And… surprise! It was.

One of us pulled the door open and walked into a dark room just behind the bar. We peeked around a corner and saw we weren’t far from the dance floor, so an on-the-spot plan was made to dance our way into the club. The goal was that we would easily blend in since it was crowded and the music was loud.

And… surprise! It worked.

We stayed in The Mudd Club for at least an hour, but it didn’t live up to our heightened expectations. Instead of the celebrity rockers featured on Page Six of The New York Post as they pretended to hide from the paparazzi (while paying publicists to make sure they were seen, photographed and featured) it didn’t seem any different than any other rock club. The best entertainment factor was all the girls looking like Debbie Harry and guys looking like Keith Richards.

My main memory is The Mudd Club looked like a sea of bleached or black dyed hair and black leather jackets. So, it really wasn’t our scene.

But… surprise! We tried it again.

Only this time we didn’t have an easy access pass…

After another cab ride we used our street smarts to bypass the line outside and headed down the familiar alley to our secret back door entrance. With my girlfriend acting like she had the cool of Debbie Harry and me assuming an attitude not even close to the cool of Keith Richards, we opened the door.

It was dark and loud, but not enough to miss seeing what was standing in front of us.

One of the Keith’s?!

Obviously, the back door entrance was not a secret anymore and we were face to face with a large bouncer. His job – also obviously – was to deter street smart deprived wannabe’s like us from skipping the line and paying a high cover charge to enter a club where you might actually see the real Debbie or Keith blending in with the wannabe Debbie’s and Keith’s.

Our not-so-friendly bouncer’s appearance certainly opened my eyes and heightened my senses – thus raising my New York street smarts aptitude.

Since I’m not afraid to exaggerate certain situations, let’s just say the bouncer was twice my size, had arms bigger than my legs and I saw flames coming out of his nostrils. He also sounded very punk rock-ish when he emphasized the “F-Bomb” when asking us, “Where the f**** do you think you’re going?

And… surprise! That was the end of our conversation and final destination journey to The Mudd Club.

Heart of Glass? Maybe the song was playing at the club that night, but I would’ve never heard it since my concentration was on getting us a cab and back to our less-seedy neighborhood. But even if I’d had enough street smarts to get past the back door bouncer and into The Mudd Club and Debbie Harry was actually hanging out avoiding the paparazzi, it’s doubtful I could’ve picked her out from the sea of bleached hair hanging out with the sea of Keiths.

Here’s the “official” video of Blondie performing Heart of Glass

 

 

To purchase Blondie Greatest Hits with Heart of Glass visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2019 – North Shore Publishing

 

#156 – Smoke on the Water

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#156 – Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple

Deep Purple

– Two decades after this song came out Nirvana was grunge-ing about Smells Like Teen Spirit. But for boomers that frequented college parties and dance clubs when Smoke on the Water was released as a single in May 1973, after first appearing on the Deep Purple album Machine Head in early 1972, your sense memories should be drenched in teenage sweat at just the thought of one of the best known guitar riffs in rock, heavy metal and now, classic rock.

And like all great rock guitar riffs, you know exactly what song is playing after only the first couple notes. Chances are good you’ll also remember immediately jumping out of your seat and bouncing onto a dance floor whenever every local rock band cranked this one up to the max volume.

How am I so sure of that? Because that’s how I remember it.

I really don’t know what Nirvana was shouting about in the classic grunge-rocker from the 1990’s, but their song title fits what my sense memories recall from the pre-disco music scene in the 1970’s. I doubt there was any local rock band that didn’t have Smoke on the Water included in their repertoire – along with Roundabout by Yes.

And though I won’t earn any new classic rock fans and will probably lose a few by saying this, I remember both being way overplayed.

Did I just say that – really? Yeah, I did.

Blurred by 3.2% beer?

For a couple of years anyway, Smoke on the Water and Roundabout were guaranteed party-starters. The first notes of either song would cause a stampede of late teens and early twenty-somethings to abandon their “legal at age eighteen” 3.2 percent (alcohol) beers and jump around on a dance floor until the sweat of teen spirit was added to the already thick aroma of brew and smoke (as in cigarettes, which any twelve year old could buy at the time). These songs were such a sure thing to get everyone up and rocking we heard them so often I seriously can’t remember ever wanting to hear either again after we were done with the 1970’s.

That’s why Smoke on the Water joins this Dream Song list as a subliminal member. I hadn’t heard it in a long time, I’ve never owned a copy – and have no desire to change that. When the opening notes jolted me awake on October 15th I must have been unconsciously dancing under the covers since I was breaking into a sweat. I can only assume I was having a dream influenced by long ago teen spirit memories and was back on a dance floor jumping around like a college student powered by watered down beer on the last day of final exams.

Now, if you’ve followed these Classic Rocker ramblings you know I can’t leave you with just a general vague description of hearing Smoke on the Water at every music club we went to. There is one specific memory that jumps into my mind when hearing the opening notes…

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A few weeks after a bad breakup with a long time girlfriend (is there such a thing as a good breakup?) I escorted a new girlfriend to one of our local live music clubs. It was big place and typically crowded for a Saturday night. So of course, the first person I spotted was my “ex” hanging out with her pack of loyal girlfriends. With experienced knowledge you can’t learn in a college classroom, I immediately steered the new girlfriend to the opposite side of the club and found an empty table.

After ordering a couple 3.2% beers we suddenly had company.

To take the suspense out of this sense memory, it wasn’t the “ex” dropping by to say hello or put her cigarette out on my arm. Instead it was two of her friends that had obviously been given an assignment in espionage. Their mission (and they chose to accept it) was to scope out what the heck I was doing with this new girl and to gather any information and perhaps incriminating evidence that I may have been seeing her before the bad breakup with their friend.

Yeah, real teen spirit stuff.

They were on a mission!

Of course I hadn’t talked with the “ex” friends in what seemed like forever, but suddenly they acted like we were all new friends. Over whatever loud early 70’s rock the band was playing, we verbally danced over the obvious, “How are you?” “What have you been up to?” and more specifically, “Who’s your friend?” interrogation that was both awkward and annoying. But the new girlfriend and I handled situation like a team from Mission Impossible (the television series, since we were still decades away from the movies) with fake smiles, polite answers and another round of 3.2% beer.

Then Smoke on the Water came to the rescue.

When the local band hit the first few notes the current girlfriend grabbed my hand and gave me a look as if we’d been granted parole. I called out a (polite) “See’ya later!” and made a beeline onto the dance floor.

End of conversation.

After a lengthy version of Smoke on the Water that was most likely followed by the band’s cover of Roundabout, I suggested we go to another (probably hyped by me as better) club and we split the scene. I’m tempted to add I could feel a few sets of teen spirited eyes trying to burn a hole in the back of my head as we made for the exit, but that would only be speculation on my part. Where there’s no smoke (on or off the water) there’s no fire.

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Eventually the “new” became an “ex” and the first “ex” became a friend. Yeah, I know. It’s complicated. But in the teen spirit of the 1970’s, we all kept dancing – just with different partners in different places. But if I can assume at least one thing stayed the same after going our separate ways, it would be wherever we were and whatever local band was playing, we’d join the stampede onto a dance floor as soon as we heard the opening notes to Smoke on the Water.

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Thanks for reading – and keep rockin’!

Here’s a 1972 video of Deep Purple performing Smoke on the Water

To purchase The Very Best of Deep Purple with Smoke on the Water visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2019 – North Shore Publishing

 

#157 – All By Myself

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#157 – All By Myself by Eric Carmen

 – It was never a definite thing, or as we would’ve referred to it in college as a lock. There were no promises or guarantees made, but if the planets aligned in a positive way there might be a very slight chance I could meet a Beatle.

Okay, I didn’t. But for this Classic Rocker it still turned out to be a pretty cool experience. Here’s the scoop – and yeah, I mean that with ink-stained, newspaper lingo.

In 2000 I was writing entertainment columns for a newspaper in northern Ohio. It wasn’t the big one in Cleveland, The Plain Dealer, but it still came with decent-enough credentials to score interviews and concert review tickets for most of the music and comedy shows I wanted to see. But there was one road block when it came to the music I really enjoyed. I wasn’t the official the pop-rock journalist, since that was how another writer earned his paycheck. I was the assigned country music expert, even though I knew nothing about real country music before accepting the gig.

What do I mean by real country music?

I’m talking about the original artists out of Nashville, Bakersfield and other locales south of my northern locale. When it came to my personal country playlists, they were limited to most of the tracks Ringo was assigned on Beatles albums and the occasional Rolling Stones efforts at twang on songs like Wild Horses and Far Away Eyes.

But I gained an appreciation while reviewing concerts and interviewing Willie Nelson, Garth Brooks, Tanya Tucker and quite a few others. And as a bonus, my country column also allowed me to hang out backstage one night with The Everly Brothers since the newspaper’s too-young, pop-rock reporter wasn’t classic rock savvy enough to realize Don and Phil were rock star royalty.

That was also a pretty cool scoop on my part.

I’d always feel a bit like a lottery winner whenever my writer colleague’s personal opinion that classic rock wasn’t really happening worked to my advantage. That’s also how I scored review seats for Paul McCartney and an invitation to a private rehearsal by The Monkees.

Ringo + All Starr Band 2000

I had a system going within my local newspaper gig when it came to classic rock and I played it like an all star.

So, I was more than psyched to learn Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band would be playing in Cleveland that summer. A quick call to my editor confirmed our pop-rock guy had no interest and I started polishing up my media pass for the concert.

I grabbed a press release sent to the newspaper and immediately called Ringo’s publicist. I was politely told I would be sent review tickets, but the former Beatle would only do one newspaper interview in each city. Cleveland’s belonged to The Plain Dealer’s legendary journalist (and my friend) Jane Scott.

Okay… so one win and one loss. I could live with that.

But then came a big score I didn’t see coming. The publicist told me one of the All Starr’s had a north coast connection and asked if I would be interested in doing a phone interview with Eric Carmen.

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Are you kidding me? My answer to that question was easier than the lock I’d had once on a college exam when the teaching grad student gave me the answers in advance.

Sign me up!

Let’s get this out of the way right now. I’m a major Eric Carmen fan as both a solo artist and member of The Raspberries. I can attribute this to a few things. I grew up near the band’s launching pad of Cleveland and even though I’ve never met any of the members, it almost feels like I know these guys. The nucleus of the group (without Carmen) were well-known throughout the area as The Mods, then after changing their name to The Choir scored a hit song in 1966 with It’s Cold Outside.

It was one of the songs that always brought together the guys and the girls from opposite sides of the school gym to dance during our junior high dances. And yeah, I have a copy on my digital playlist.

The Choir + Eric Carmen

Eric Carmen was in another area band in the early 70’s called Cyrus Erie. By this time, we were in high school and old enough to drive. That also meant we were old enough to hang out in teen dance clubs. I remember seeing them in a club west of Cleveland that was also called Cyrus Erie, but with an added tag of “West” to separate it from a same-named club on the east side.

Another memory of that long-ago night in Cyrus Erie West was when a cute girl with a flower painted on her cheek asked me to dance. And to really show off my memory, she said her name was Sunshine. I mean, really – how could any sixteen year old guy ever forget that?

The Choir and Cyrus Erie somehow merged, resulting in The Raspberries and international fame. Their brand of power-pop music was the needed alternative to (in my opinion) a rock scene that was getting too stuck in alternative music.

I seriously could not listen to twenty minute drum solos, over-long guitar improvisations or some guy blowing on a flute. Give me two to three minutes of rock and roll and I’m happy. And I know my college frat house pals would agree since our parties with sorority girls would’ve never been the wild times we still reminisce about if we hadn’t had everybody on their feet and dancing to Go All The Way, Tonight and I Want To Be With You.

Eric Carmen – The Choir

Then sometime during my college daze The Raspberries broke up. But my fandom was saved when Eric Carmen released his self-titled solo album that opened with All By Myself. It was one of the rare LP’s I could listen to all the way through without picking up the stereo needle and skipping any songs. It was also the go-to soundtrack at the end of our college parties with sororities when the lights were low…

All By Myself was also a go-to for my waking mind when it joined this Dream Song list on the morning of September 27. Of course I own a copy (duh), but surprisingly hadn’t heard it in awhile. I must have been rocking to The Raspberries or It’s Cold Outside that week instead. So for that reason, welcome to the subliminal memory category.

My phone interview with Eric Carmen to promote the Ringo and his All-Starr Band concert was scheduled and confirmed. I was psyched. Maybe a little too much…

I wish I could say the interview was one of my stellar moments as a music journalist, but that’s not how I remember it. I had done quite a few interviews previously with artists I consider to be heavyweights in the entertainment biz, but with Eric Carmen I very quickly morphed into fan-boy.

Remember the Saturday Night Live bit where Chris Farley interviewed Paul McCartney? All he did was tell the pre-Sir Paul how great he was and asked if he remembered all these great things he had done. If you don’t, here’s a reminder…

 

 

It was just like me talking to Eric Carmen.

Okay, maybe it turned out to be a bit more than that. I reminisced about everything mentioned above, including Cyrus Erie, The Raspberries, my college parties and his solo work. He was extremely polite and a nice guy, but all he really had to reply was, “Yes, I remember” and “Thank you.” Then I was onto my next memory.

Eventually we talked about the tour and performing with an ex-Beatle. So the article was salvaged and ran in the newspaper. I also saw a link to it on his website years ago, but in a recent search for this particular Classic Rocker rambling I couldn’t find it online.

It’s probably just as well – at lease for my journalistic reputation.

At the end of our talk I mentioned that my review tickets usually included a pass to go backstage after the concert. If it was cool, I’d like to say hello. He said that would be fine and if there was an opportunity, he might be able to introduce me to Ringo Starr.

Say what?! Call me fan-boy x2 and sign me up!

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The outdoor All-Starr concert was a major blast from the past with Carmen performing All By Myself and Go All The Way and Ringo singing his fab-twang classics. After the encore I temporarily ditched my wife Dancin’ Deb and our friends for a possible rendezvous with my hoped-for new best friends Eric and Ringo backstage.

As mentioned at the beginning of this rambling fan-boy confession, it didn’t happen.

Alas (do people still use that term?), my newspaper and name wasn’t on the list and I couldn’t talk my way past the strong-armed security guard road-blocking the backstage entrance. I’m sure I stood looking longingly (do people still use that term?) as Jane Scott and other VIPs walked through the gate and joined the far away inner circle that I could only imagine included Ringo Starr and Eric Carmen.

But in the long run, I can still claim to have had a very cool experience.

I rejoined Dancin’ Deb and our friends to share reviews of our favorite moments from the show. And if my more recent memories are correct, we ditched playing a Ringo CD during our drive home and turned up Eric Carmen. That’s called hometown loyalty.

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Please use the form below – and keep rockin’!

Here’s a video of Eric Carmen performing All By Myself on The Midnight Special television show from the 1970’s. This is the complete song – and not the edited version released as a single for radio play.

 

 

To purchase the album Eric Carmen with All By Myself visit Amazon.com

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Dave Schwensen is The Classic Rocker and author of The Beatles At Shea Stadium and The Beatles In Cleveland. Visit Dave’s author page on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2019 – North Shore Publishing