Rolling Stones Cbus Concert Review by Pete "I Am Not a Stones Fan" Vogel.

Reflections on The Rolling Stones Concert – 5/30/2015,  by Pete Vogel

I am not a fan of The Rolling Stones.

I do not own any of their albums.  I’ve never bought any of their singles.  I have no songs on I-tunes, nor have I ever downloaded any of them to my computer.  I’ve never seen the band live, nor have I ever intended to.  To me, The Rolling Stones were a weak, watered-down version of the Blues greats - a cheap, Caucasian version of Muddy Waters and BB King.

When I heard the band was coming to Ohio Stadium in May, I simply shrugged my shoulders.  “Who cares?” I thought.  My favorite band -The Who - was also coming in May and that ticket was a no-brainer.  The Who versus The Stones: to me it was no contest.  

Two days before the show I decided to pay homage to this historic British Invasion of Columbus by attending the event for - all things considered - nostalgia.  After all, I was a musician (playing at some capacity for nearly 30 years) and seeing The Stones was a rite of passage.  One had to - at the very least - pay homage to the staying power of a band like The Stones, who’d been performing for over fifty years.  I figured it was my duty - kind of like attending the nightclub act of a beloved go-go dancer who was well past her prime.  I was going out of respect more than anything else.  So be it.  

To be honest, I wasn’t particularly keen on attending the show.  I’ve never been a fan of the blues and surely didn’t want to watch an American export being imported from England.  This was OUR music, after all - the Delta Blues originated from Louisiana and thought it shouldn’t be bastardized by a bunch of Brit hooligans.  There was also another reason for my ambivalence: Growing up a rabid Quadrophenia fan, and learning about the clash between Mods and Rockers from that album, I wanted to honor the loyal, middle-aged Mod within me.  The Who was your quintessential Mod band; The Stones your consummate Rocker band.  How could a Who fan attend a Stones gig with a clear conscience?  This was like rooting for Ohio State AND Michigan at the same time - I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.  But my pride took a back seat to nostalgia - I figured if I could catch The Stones for $50, I’d pull the trigger.  My Who ticket cost $60 and - on principle -I didn’t want to spend MORE money on The Stones than The Who.  No brainer.

The day of the show my former college roommate - Mark Allen - had two extra tickets and was gracious enough to sell me an $89 ticket for $60.  (I should’ve offered him $59.)  The other ticket went to a mutual friend of ours - Ben Arnold - so it would be nice to sit with a friend, musician and Stones fan; he could fill me in on all the crappy tunes I wasn’t familiar with.  

We treated the event like an OSU game: We parked our car three hours prior; set up tents and lawn chairs; brought sandwiches, snacks and beverages and tailgated like a typical football Saturday.  Rain fell hard for about twenty minutes, but the skies cleared and by nightfall it was brisk, cool and comfortable in the heartland.    

The Stones took the stage around 9:30pm to a thunderous roar from its fans - it was as if everyone had been bottling up this energy for decades.  Ben and I took our seats in section 3A - directly opposite from the stage - as the first few chords of “Jumpin Jack Flash” came thundering through the enormous sound system.  It looked and sounded fantastic; OSU Stadium was totally rocking.  

The Stones played hit after hit to a raucous crowd of 60,000 adoring fans, and with every tune the crowd got louder and louder.  After the fourth song Mick got on the mic and said: “We’re in the stadium of CHAMPIONS!” - referring to OSU’s National Championship season in football.  After that, the band did something rare: they played a rendition of “Hang On Sloopy” - an OSU staple that had recently become the State of Ohio’s “Official Song.” 

(To me, watching this iconic British rock group pay homage to a state AND a university by playing its theme song was truly remarkable.  The rest of the country thought so as well - NBC Nightly News covered this moment in its national broadcast the following night.  It was mind blowing: a world-famous rock band from England covered a tune by an obscure, one-hit-wonder act from Ohio.  Truly incredible.)

The surprises didn’t end there.  With 60,000 fans roaring their approval, Mick Jagger pranced from sideline to sideline like the consummate rock star.  Dancing, singing, playing guitar, backing up and leading off, Jagger was a dynamo of energy and passion.  We all forgot that the average age of this band was the same age as our deceased grandparents.

Then something truly amazing happened - it’s something I’d rarely experienced at a show before.  Jagger grabbed his harmonica and began the opening salvo of “Midnight Rambler.”  I was awestruck - I’d no idea he was that accomplished on harp.  After his opening salvo, he sang the first verse and chorus then pranced around with his usual swagger.  As the band went into an extended jam, Jagger removed his maroon jacket, threw it to the stage floor and went into a primal dance that shook me to the core.  I could tell he had channeled something deep and mysterious within him - it was completely unrehearsed and spontaneous, as if he was lost in the moment and truly forgot where he was.  I’d seen this kind of “out of body experience” from time to time in smaller venues, but not a packed stadium.  It was as if he was whisked back to his youth and pranced around like he was still in his London flat, hearing the song for the first time.  The crowd rose to its feet in approval. 

Watching that Jagger dance was like watching Hank Aaron’s 715th.  Or Jordan’s jump shot.  Or Tyson’s left hook.  Or Mary Lou’s perfect 10.  It was a thing of beauty, roused by a fire that eluded most of us.  A 71-year-old man had just reversed the numbers and became 17 in an instant.  This mysterious, musical fountain of youth had overtaken this grandfatherly figure and turned him into a teenager again.  And everyone in the audience became 17 again from watching the mysterious moves of Mick Jagger.  

It was then that I finally understood what The Rolling Stones was about.  It was about passion.  It was about singing and dancing your troubles away.  It was about shouting words and sounds at the top of your lungs along with 60,000 other souls.  It was about the mystery and power of the rock concert, and the mystery and power of a rock song.  For years I’d dismissed them as a second-rate blues act with nothing original to say; now I got to see them with my own two eyes and witness what the rest of the world already knew.  Well done, gentlemen.

This was living history, after all—in our own backyard.  Columbus, Ohio was a town that rarely saw big acts come through its gates, yet in 2015 we got to witness two of its greatest invade the city - only 15 days apart.  Another iconic Briton - Eric Clapton - even owns a home here.  Columbus has suddenly become a prime target on the rock-and-roll map, and I couldn’t be more proud of this loveable little cowtown.  

This got me thinking about something else.  It dawned on me why bands like The Stones and The Who can still draw massive crowds after 50 years.  Something remarkable happened in Britain in the early '60s - it totally transformed the world with its genius.  A “Golden Age” of Rock and Roll evolved out of the miasma of bland, polite pop rock.  The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Cream, The Yardbirds, Moody Blues, Electric Light Orchestra, Pink Floyd, Genesis, Yes, Deep Purple, The Kinks, King Crimson - and many others that currently evade my memory - inspired an entire revolution through their creativity and innovation.  These bands transformed the world through their imaginations, channeling the misery of being born during (or directly after) World War II into something positive and hopeful.  Something miraculous took place after the war in Britain - it spawned a creative renaissance that rose from that tiny island after it was nearly destroyed by German bombs.  And fifty years later, those same musicians who represented that Golden Age are alive and kicking - in various incarnations - sharing their passion with the world who love them dearly for it.

We can’t thank you enough for that wonderful gift.

PS. I’m still not going to waste my money on a bloody Stones record, though. - Pete Vogel

Click here for the Stones setlist at the Shoe

Click here to read "Reflections on The Who Turning 50" by Pete Vogel 

Ohio Stadium, Columbus, OH May 30, 2015

State of Green Indiegogo Campaign Almost Over. Check it Out!

As a rule, we tend to shy away from crowdfunding campaigns as there are a zillion currently in progress and we don't have any money anyway. Once we mocked one, "Sammy Hagar's Kid and the Dark Side of Crowd Funding" and we once endorsed the "Who Is Lydia Loveless?" campaign.

So here comes #3. Why, you ask? Adam Rich has been a friend of Watershed for over two decades and his campaign seemed so heartfelt and reasonable it was worth a mention. Please give it a look and help him reach his $600 goal.

Click here to check out "It's All About the Smiles: State of Green DVD Indiegogo campaign. It ends in two days so the clock is ticking.

In 1996, we got the chance to open for Columbus, Ohio based Watershed who had been signed to Epic Records and were supporting their debut full length CD "Twister". Several month after the gig, we added one of their songs, You Need Me, as one of the covers we sometimes played.

"50 Tracks That Tell the Story of the Stones" on the Rock and Roll Book Club Podcast

It's about 24 hours until The Rolling Stones take the stage in Columbus, OH. So if you haven't read 'Rocks Off: 50 Tracks That Tell the Story of the Stones' by now, it probably ain't happening. No worries, our pals at the Rock and Roll Book Club have you covered as they review and discuss this excellent Stones book written by Bill Janovitz. Click the link below and get your head crammed full of good Stones knowledge to get you primed for the show. 

Do yourself a favor and click here to give it a listen. on the excellent Rock and Roll Book Club Podcast.     

And click here for the best Rolling Stones story ever. Promise.

Attempted Suicide Stopped by the Rolling Stones. Listen to Ricki C. Tell the True Story on 614Cast

Hey gang, Colin here. As I've said many times, Ricki C. is my favorite rock n roll storyteller. In my humble opinion, everything he posts on Pencilstorm is pure gold, as good as any rock story you will read in ANY publication. But of all his great writings, I think his essay, "The Bathtub" could be on the short list of greatest rock stories ever told. It originally appeared on his old MySpace page, and in his former blog "Growing Old with Rock n Roll" and then Joe Oestreich made sure it was published in the footnotes/index to his acclaimed Watershed memoir, "Hitless Wonder - A Life in Minor League Rock n Roll". (In fact, just the footnotes to Joe's book are better than Butch Walker's actual books. Seriously, thumb through a copy and prove me wrong.)

Anyway, with the Rolling Stones coming to town, we decided to team up with the very cool and new Six One Four Podcast so Ricki C. could tell the story of "The Bathtub" himself. Please do yourself a favor and give it a listen. I promise you'll be glad you did.

Click Here to listen to Colin and Ricki C. telling the story of "The Bathtub" on the 614Cast. They start at the 27 minute mark after the excellent Eric Davidson interview. 

The Bathtub by Ricki C.

I was 13 years old in October 1965.  Eighth grade just was not working out.  I had been a shy, book-reading child, now hormones were kicking in.  I loved rock & roll but I just knew I was NEVER going to know how to talk to girls.  (This was years before I got a hold of a guitar.)  One really bad Saturday night I decided to kill myself.  I had it all worked out.  I’d seen a movie just that week about a guy getting electrocuted when a radio fell into the bathtub he was in.  (I was a very impressionable child.)

After everybody had left for the evening (my mom and dad were working their second jobs, my sister was on a date, my brother was at the bar) I went around the house and found a radio with a cord long enough to reach the bathtub.  I ran the bath, plugged in the radio, settled into the warm water, said a little prayer for forgiveness, and let the radio drop.  What I hadn't factored in was that although the cord was long enough to reach the tub, I hadn't filled it full enough.  Right when the radio hit the water the plug pulled out.  I got a nasty shock, I was seeing big purple and black blobs in my field of vision, but it didn't kill me.

I lifted the radio out and laid there in the water a few minutes to let my head clear.  I got out and ran some more water in the tub until I was certain I had the right water level for the job at hand.  I plugged the radio back in and what was playing?  "Get Off My Cloud" by The Rolling Stones.  I stood there naked – dripping & chilly, eighth-grade skinny – and listened to the entire song.  Right at that moment I quite literally loved that song more than I loved life itself.  And then a thought came very clearly into my head: "What if the next Rolling Stones single is even BETTER than this one, and I never get to hear it?"

I set the radio down on the sink, got back in the tub, took a bath and went to bed.  If "Danke Schoen" by Wayne Newton or "Roses Are Red" by Bobby Vinton had been playing at the moment I plugged that radio back in I'd be dead now.  Long live The Rolling Stones.  So began a life of rock & roll.  Thanks Mick, Keith, Brian, Bill & Charlie.

© 2005 Ricki C.

Reflections on The Who Turning 50 by Pete Vogel

Listening to you / I get the music

Gazing at you / I get the heat

Following You / I climb the mountain

I get excitement at your feet

- Tommy (1969)

These four lines pretty much sum up my feelings about The Who as they celebrate their fifth decade in the music industry. From the first time I heard them back in 1978, to the 50th anniversary concert that took place 5/15/15 in Columbus, I am continually reminded of their genius, their passion and their relevance.

As a middle-aged musician—I’m as old as the band—who still struggles in the “minor leagues” (to borrow a phrase from Joe Oestreich) these four lines are passages that I revert to whenever I’ve “lost my way” in this ever-changing, ever-frustrating music biz. These lines are a reminder of why I still do what I do, even though sometimes it feels like it’s in vain.

Pete Townshend was very different than most songwriters coming out of UK in the mid-60s. While his peers were penning songs about teenage love and girls named Angie, Townshend was writing tunes like “The Seeker.” While his contemporaries were writing political and folksy songs about Vietnam, he was penning operas about pinball wizards. Townshend was—and still is—in a class by himself. He took a look at the state of the world in his era and got “in tune with the straight and narrow.” As he penned in his song “Pure and Easy”: “There once was a note / Pure and easy / Playing so free / Like a breath, rippling by.”

For those who craved more meaning to life than suburban sporting events, pop music and movies approved by The Catholic Times, The Who represented a shift from this stifling worldview and expanded hearts and minds to embrace a faith in something bigger. That’s what drew me to them in the first place—they re-examined spirituality in general and how it related to manhood in particular. For males reared in the 60s and 70s, with the specter of Vietnam ever present in their psyche, The Who paved the way for a new vision of what it meant to be a man: “Imagine a man / Not a child of any revolt / But a plain man tied up in life.”

Having grown up in a patriarchal family—with a father who was influenced by no-nonsense role models like Woody Hayes and Bobby Knight—The Who taught me about the softer, gentler side of manhood, what Rabbi Michael Lerner calls “The Left Hand of God.” The Who showed me that you don’t have to be a bully, brute or jerk to get your way in the world, perhaps love can truly reign over everything.

While it’s true that The Who is considered a “masculine” group—and have always appealed to men more than women—the Daltrey/Townshend duo are, to me, the Yin/Yang balance of masculine and feminine energies. Daltrey’s rugged voice and hardscrabble working class persona, coupled with Townshend’s meek tenor and art-school upbringing, address the duality between testosterone-laced impulsivity and feminine reflection. We see this played out so brilliantly in Quadrophenia, the rock opera about the conflicting desires within its main character, Jimmy, who wanted to be both a lover AND fighter for the Mod cause. He realized, at the end of his journey, he had to decide between the two—he couldn’t be both. Would love reign, or would he seek to be the Ace Face?

The Who has always struck a beautiful balance with its frontmen, and it’s a marriage that hasn’t been lost on its fans. Whether it’s expressed in the raw emotion of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” or the melancholic sensibilities of “I’m One” we’ve come to realize that we’re all Jimmy: straddling the fence between selfish, violent whims and the desire to transcend it all.

As for the show last Friday (sadly, they didn’t pay homage to 5/15 by playing that song) it was thrilling to see the band—or at least half of them—perform in front of 20,000 screaming fans at their respective ages of 69 (Townshend) and 70 (Daltrey). Sure, there was a stoop in their walk, and they both wore sunglasses that looked more like bifocals than hipster specs, but their passion was still intact. They started off the show with their seminal, 50-year-old classic “I Can’t Explain” and didn’t let the foot off the gas until the final crescendo of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” two hours later. Most of us walked away with a feeling of awe and respect—they obviously still “got it.” Even those who didn’t enjoy the show (my friend’s son said: “It would’ve been cool to see them in the 70s”) they still left the venue with an understanding of what made The Who special for so many years. Fifty years, in fact. Half a century. Playing music to millions of fans. Still. To me, for The Who to generate that level of enthusiasm—as they approached their seventh decade on the planet—is nothing short of miraculous.

The music business has changed dramatically since The Who first stepped onstage in 1965; Townshend professed this inevitability in his ditty “Music Must Change.” But I wonder if he foresaw the events that are taking place today? The industry has become—more or less—a diaspora of the talent pool and a dumbing down of the medium. Steady radio play featuring new talent has all but disappeared—Clear Channel saw to that. The Internet has generated tens of thousands of new bands, yet it’s impossible to keep track of them. Youtube, Facebook and Soundcloud have created a mass market for songwriting but it’s now a free indulgence—royalties have all but disappeared. Ironically, it’s harder to make money in this ubiquitous industry because competition is stiff, the market is endless and opportunities are widespread. There are too many venues, too many bands, and not enough paying audiences. In fact, nobody wants to pay for music anymore—it’s expected to be free. Artists hand out their CDs like business cards.

It’s nearly impossible for an original, modern act in the spirit of The Who to come close to selling out a Nationwide Arena at $100 a pop—unless your name is Swift, Timberlake or Spears. And you won’t hear songs like “Join Together” or “A Quick One” at these shows either—one can’t afford to take those kinds of risks in the digital age.

As a musician I sometimes despair over the state of our medium. It seems like the least original, least inspiring and least talented acts have risen to the top while the rest of us struggle in the minors. It saddens me that some of the most talented, original, and inspiring acts in this town are playing to fifteen people at a local bar for five bucks a head. It saddens me that a whole generation of folks will grow up in a world where Nicki Minaj is regarded a “viral success.”

That’s when I crank up Tommy as loud as I can and chant those four lines, over and over and over again. Rock is dead. Long live rock.  Pete Vogel 5/16/15

Pete Vogel is an accomplished artist, educator, and musician. He also wrote and directed the documentary "Indie". Learn more by clicking here,

Vet's Memorial, part five - The New York Dolls, Sunday, May 19th, 1974 by Ricki C.

To paraphrase Bette Davis in All About Eve: “Fasten your seat belts, kids, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

I can tell you the entire story of the downfall and eventual long, slow, sad Death of Rock & Roll in one fell swoop in a single story about The New York Dolls at Veteran’s Memorial Auditorium, 41 years ago today, Sunday, May 19th, 1974.

As you can see from my tickets reproduced below, it was a pretty big week for rock & roll in my little hometown of Columbus, Ohio.  I saw the Dolls on Sunday the 19th, The Eagles at Mershon the next Saturday, May 25th, and Mott The Hoople the next night, Sunday, May 26th.  I fully acknowledge that the 1970’s were indeed the heyday of live rock & roll concerts, but I must point out: Columbus did NOT routinely get three acts of that rock pedigree in seven days’ time; it was definitely an aberration.  

Anyway, what does this have to do with The Death of Rock & Roll?  I’ll tell ya.  The Eagles show and Mott The Hoople sold out the 2500-seat capacity Mershon Auditorium.  The New York Dolls drew 150 people to the 3000-seat capacity Vet’s Memorial.  I couldn’t believe it.  When my girlfriend (and later wife) Pat and I arrived at the show that warm Sunday evening there were a scattering of cars in the huge Vet’s parking lot, and nobody going into the show.  “Oooooh man, the show must be cancelled,” I moaned to Pat, dispiritedly.  Shows were constantly getting cancelled and/or rescheduled back in those pre-Rock As Big Business early 1970’s times.  Drug problems, sick band members, routing problems, missed flights, equipment truck breakdowns all contributed to missed shows back in the day.  Art and commerce were still somewhat separate then.   

“Let’s get a refund and see if the show’s rescheduled,” I said to Pat as we walked up the steps to Vet’s.  Weirdly, there was a full crew of ushers in the Vet’s lobby.  I walked up to one of the ushers who had been a friend of my dad’s (see last month’s Vet’s part 4 installment) and said, “Is the show cancelled?”  “No,” he said, tearing my ticket.  “Then why aren’t there any cars in the parking lot?” I asked.  “Because there aren’t any people in the venue,” he replied, pointing over his shoulder.

I just couldn’t figure any of this out as Pat and I crossed the deserted lobby & concession area and walked up the steps to our balcony seats.  (In those days I always bought front row balcony seats and brought a little portable Panasonic tape recorder to tape the shows on.  I put the recorder right on the balcony overhang and got great sound right off the stage with minimal crowd noise.  It was great.)  There were four people in the entire balcony: Pat & me and one other couple, who soon joined the “crowd” downstairs.

I couldn’t believe my eyes looking down at the main floor of Vet’s: the first ten rows weren’t even full.  The ENTIRE MAIN FLOOR was all but empty.  Ladies & gentlemen; that was not what happened at rock & roll shows in 1974.  Since the Woodstock Festival in 1969, rock & roll shows SOLD OUT Vet’s Memorial.  And it really didn’t much matter WHO PLAYED at Vet’s: it still sold out.  Aerosmith, Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band, Rush, Frank Zappa, Foghat, etc. all sold out Vet’s.  Christ, the fucking Mahavishnu Orchestra sold out Vet’s Memorial.  (But they had Aerosmith opening, that’s a whole other blog for another month.)    

Creem magazine – my Rock & Roll Bible of those days – had been telling me for over a year that The New York Dolls were The Next Big Thing, and I had no reason not to believe them.  As far as I knew, until that May evening, the Dolls were selling out 3000-seat venues (or bigger, I assumed, in cities like Boston, Detroit & L.A.).  This, folks, was definitely a rude awakening.

I really believed to my soul that 1974 was going to be the year that The Great Rock & Roll Reset would kick in.  (Reboot was not yet a term anyone outside a few scientist computer nerds in white lab coats would be familiar with.)  The New York Dolls would become the New Rolling Stones and Mick ‘n’ Keith & company would retire pleasantly to their English mansions and while away their remaining days playing cribbage, growing roses and/or shooting heroin; Mott The Hoople would become the New Bob Dylan and Mr. Zimmerman would live out his dotage in a Woodstock – the town, not the festival – idyll (actually, that very nearly happened); Elliott Murphy & Bruce Springsteen would be Assistant New Dylans, or at least replace the likes of Van Morrison and Crosby, Stills & Nash in the Singer/Songwriter Sweepstakes.  I wasn’t sure who The New Who were gonna be, because Cheap Trick hadn’t been invented yet to my knowledge, it was at least another year before I saw Rick & Robin and the boys open for some long-forgotten lame hard-rock act at the Columbus Agora. 

I wasn’t sure who The New Beatles were going to be.  I think I figured they were just Too Big, Too Outsized, Too Iconic to be replaced.  We would just have to do without.

So after an opening set by a seven-piece, all-female, funk/boogie band (with a horn section!) called Isis – no association with the current Mideast terrorist organization that I’m aware of, although they WERE torturous – The Dolls came out and, truthfully, THEY WERE WEAK.  It was the first time I realized that big-time rock critics might be ENTIRELY FULL OF SHIT.

The Dolls couldn’t BEGIN to fill up the big stage at Vet’s, they stayed crowded together like they were in a small club or a bar; the sound – because the huge Vet’s expanse was ESSENTIALLY EMPTY – was just boomy & terrible; and – worst of all – those motherfuckers just DID NOT KNOW how to play their instruments.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that was what all the 1960’s Batdorf & Rodney and Grateful Dead hippies that the Dolls were supposed to wipe off the face of the Earth said about them, but unfortunately – and I was an incredibly sympathetic first-hand witness, ready to give David Johansen & friends every benefit of the doubt – THEY COULD NOT PLAY.

Don’t get me wrong, the songs were – and still are right up to when I was blastin’ ‘em on CD today – great, but once Johnny Thunders & the gang got OUTSIDE of those song structures, they were finished.  Case in point, the Dolls went into a jam in the middle of “There’s Gonna Be A Showdown” from Too Much Too Soon and COULD NOT FIND THEIR WAY BACK INTO THE SONG!  They muddled around for a full minute while guitarists Sylvain Sylvain & Thunders and bassist Arthur Kane tried to find the beat, then just simply petered out to a full stop before drummer Jerry Nolan counted off 1-2-3-4! and they lurched back into the last verse.  It was humiliating.  To this day I have never witnessed a major band demonstrate that big a trainwreck onstage.  

I thought things would get better.  I desperately WANTED – almost PRAYED – for things to get better, thought maybe the band just had to get warmed-up, but it never got better.  At one point, while the band was pissing around between songs, trying to get their guitars in some semblance of tune, I yelled “DO SOMETHING AMAZING!” from the balcony.  Johansen looked up into the stage lights, almost smiled, then shook his head like he knew there wasn’t gonna be anything amazing to be had that night in Columbus.    

The first time I saw Kiss top-billed over the Dolls in Cleveland later that year, I knew things were all over.  I discerned from the beginning that Kiss was just Deep Purple or Uriah Heep in comic book get-up’s, but it didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter how good the Dolls songs or records were, if you couldn’t deliver the goods LIVE to the stoned, bluejeaned masses in the Great Midwest, all the rock critics on the East & West Coasts couldn’t save you.  (Further, my love for the 1973-1978 Aerosmith knows no bounds.  They pinched just enough from the Dolls – attitude-wise and fashion-wise – with the added bonus of ACTUALLY KNOWING HOW TO TUNE & PLAY THEIR INSTRUMENTS.) 

So here we are in the 21st century, in 2015.  The Who played Columbus last Friday night.  Bob Dylan played Columbus last Saturday night.  KANSAS, for fuck's sake, played Newark's Midland Theater a coupla weeks ago.  The Rolling Stones are playing May 30th.  Rush is playing June 8th.  We never exactly got that Rock & Roll Reset I was lookin’ for 41 years ago today.

Up to 1974 or so, rock & roll was a living, breathing thing: Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly & Little Richard gave way to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Velvet Underground and The Kinks who should’ve given way to Elliott Murphy, Mott The Hoople, The Modern Lovers, the Dwight Twilley Band and The New York Dolls, who would then have given way to some group of bands in the early 1980’s, and so on. 

Instead, right around 1975 the instigators of what would become Classic Rock Radio decided that we were all gonna listen to The Allman Brothers, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and, yes, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Bob Dylan, and Rush for the REST OF OUR NATURAL LIVES.  And then – after we were sick enough of Bob Seger’s “Turn The Page” to puke in our mouths every time it came on Q-FM 96 – then we’d start puttin’ the songs in COMMERCIALS, thereby sucking every last iota of vitality, life & integrity of the Baby Boomer’s precious rock & roll.

I should’ve seen it coming that Sunday night in 1974, but I didn’t.  I see it now. – Ricki C. / May 17th, 2015 

(By the way, it was this 1974 Dolls show that sparked my "celebrity encounter" with David Johansen detailed in my Exchanging Pleasantries With David Johansen blog in Growing Old With Rock & Roll.)

Shows I Saw at Vet's Memorial May Honorable Mentions 

May 14th, 1968 / Cream

May 11th, 1969 / Janis Joplin & the Full Tilt Boogie Band

May 3rd, 1970 / Sly & the Family Stone (instead of attending my senior prom, exactly the right choice)

May 2nd, 1974 / The Mahavishnu Orchestra w/ Aerosmith opening (more on this in September)