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Thanksgiving Excerpt from "Monterey Pop: Summer of Love."

2011-11-25T03:05:46Z

Excerpt from “Monterey Pop: Summer of Love.” The year is 1967 in San Francisco.

When Marla woke up on Thanksgiving morning she was thankful for some time off work. The café was closed and she had the whole day in front of her. She thought about calling Sandy or Suzi to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving, but didn’t want to disrupt their holiday. Marla walked down to the corner and picked up a newspaper, made a pot of coffee and drank it while she spent the morning curled up in a chair reading.

By late morning she was bored and stood at the window, staring down at the street. Even the Hell’s Angel’s house was quiet. Marla liked having the Angels living next door. Their presence kept the more psycho elements of Haight society at bay and off the block. The Angels were always friendly to her and she had gotten to know a few of them from talking to them on the street. She always had a smile for the boys when she walked down the sidewalk. Today, however, there wasn’t a single bike or biker to be seen.

Unlike her, even Hell’s Angels had someplace to go on Thanksgiving for dinner.

She put on her new peacoat and locked the door behind her. The wind was blowing down Ashbury and she was glad when she turned the corner onto Haight. Most of the shops were closed for the holiday and there were few people on the street. She gave a panhandler she met a dollar. He looked hungry and it made her feel good to be able to help him.

A few blocks ahead, Marla saw a group of people, huddled together for warmth, staring in a restaurant window. She joined them and saw they were enviously watching people eat their holiday dinners. The restaurant had few holiday diners; usually it would be filled with tourists. She looked at the menu displayed in the window and then saw the special.

Turkey Dinner with all the trimmings $2.99!

She walked into the warm restaurant and stood waiting for a table. When the owner, a middle aged, portly man with graying hair, who reminded her of Vern somehow, came walking up, he waved the audience at the window off, but it did no good. They held their ground and continued to stare.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“Those kids. They’ve been standing there for almost half an hour now. No cops around to chase them off. Force is working a skeleton crew today so they can be home with their families. I’d chase them off myself, but there’s too many of them, if you know what I mean? I don’t want trouble.”

“What’s your name?” asked Marla.

“Tomas,” he replied.
“Well, Tomas, why don’t you feed them? It’s Thanksgiving. Give them something to be thankful for. Be good for your Karma.”

He frowned and said, “I’m not running a soup kitchen here. It’s hard to make a living running this place when you don’t have any customers like today. I had to send home two of my waitresses. I mean, don’t you think I’d rather be home with my family like those cops? Drinking beer and eating turkey? I gotta be here. The rent is expensive here on Haight. I can’t afford to close even for a day.”

“The restaurant business is tough, isn’t it?”

“A lot of work.”

“You’re slow today?”

“Won’t even break even after I pay the overhead.”

Marla looked out the window and did a quick head count of the hungry looking kids and determined that she could easily afford to feed them all. She wondered if she could negotiate a better deal on Thanksgiving dinners for the hungry of the Haight.

“I’ve got about $150 in my purse and you’ve got an empty restaurant. How many people can we feed for $150?” Marla asked.

“I see where you’re going with this. Let me see…” He stood and thought for a moment. It was mid-afternoon and the street was deserted. There would be no rush of tourists seeking Thanksgiving dinner in the Haight that afternoon. That was becoming apparent.

“What’re you going to do with all those left over turkeys? You can only sell so many sandwiches tomorrow. Let’s feed some hungry people.”

Tomas thought a little longer and said, “Seventy-five maybe eighty. I like what you’re doing. Giving something back to the community. Tell you what, I got enough turkey for at least a hundred dinners, turkey’s cheap, especially when you buy a bunch of them. You chip in your $150 and I’ll make up the difference. How’s that sound?” Tomas was smiling and he sounded excited. “We’ll serve turkey dinners until we run out of turkey. How’s that? The community’s been good to me.”

“Works for me,” Marla said with a smile. “Let’s get started.”

Marla and Tomas walked out the door and the group that had been looking through the window started to break up and move down the street.

“No, wait,” Marla cried out to them. “Come here.”

They turned around and came back to where Marla and Tomas stood.

“Are you hungry?” Tomas asked.

They all mumbled something in the affirmative. It didn’t matter what they said, their appearance gave them away.

“Good, why don’t you come in and get warm,” Marla said. “Tomas and I want to buy you all dinner.”

“Really?” one girl asked. “I haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Really,” replied Marla. “Well, Happy Thanksgiving! Come inside and we’ll get you something to eat.”

The group followed her in and Tomas said, “You can sit anyplace.”

Tomas watched Marla tie on an apron. She looked at him, smiled and said, “I’ve got a little experience at this.”

Tomas smiled and said, “I guess we better get busy.”

The word quickly spread through the Haight and there was soon a line stretching down the street. People volunteered to wait tables, cook and wash dishes after they ate. It was late afternoon when they finally ran out of turkey and energy. Everyone pitched in to help clean up, and after the last of them left, only Marla and Tomas were left.

“You want a beer?” he said. “I got some in the cooler.”

“Sure.”

“That was a nice thing you did today, Marla. Thanks. You made me a better person. I haven’t felt this good in a long time. It was nice to give something back.” Tomas smiled and took a long hit off his bottle. “All those happy faces made it worthwhile.”

“Don’t forget that you deserve most of the credit. I just helped you out. What would you have done with all that turkey anyhow? Thrown it out?”

Marla put her coat on against the November chill. She kissed Tomas on the cheek and smiled. “Nice meeting you, Tomas. You’re a good man.”

“You want another beer?”

“No, I gotta get going. There’s something I need to do before it gets much later.”

Tomas was nice and she had enjoyed meeting him, but on the walk home she realized how much she missed Sandy’s companionship. San Francisco wasn’t the same without her and she dreaded going home to the empty apartment, but there was something she needed to do before it got too late.
She walked up the steps and unlocked the door. She turned on the light and looked at the clock. It was almost six-thirty. Still early enough to call. Marla picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello, Aunt Suzie?”

Looking for Hendrix

2011-07-23T17:55:09Z

By Martin Rots

Sparky and I went to Monterey, California recently as part of our decade long program of visiting the historic sites of Classic Rock. Our journeys have taken us to many destinations including Abbey Road Studios, Haight Ashbury, Jim Morrison's Paris grave, and now the Monterey County Fairgrounds, site of the 1967 Monterey International Pop Festival.

We arrived around mid-day and after a little wandering on the unfamiliar streets of Monterey, we located the fairgrounds. It was Sunday and there were no scheduled events, the place was deserted. The gate was open and Sparky and I walked in like we owned the place. We only encountered one person on the grounds and when we asked him if it was okay to look around, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sure."

The arena was easy to find, and a smile came to my face as we approached it. Outside the arena, parallel to the stands, were booths that had been filled with vendors of beads, flowers, posters and the rest of the hippie ephemera. It was easy to picture the colorfully dressed flower children moving from booth to booth and celebrating this "gathering of the tribes."

We walked along the stands to the far side of the arena and looked towards the stage. It didn't seem that far from where we were standing. The arena was only built to hold 7,500 people, although there were far more crammed into it during the course of the festival. Standing room tickets sold for one dollar on the day of the concert. Unlike Woodstock, the audience left the arena at the conclusion of the day's show to sleep elsewhere. Most slept on the fairgrounds or the football field of the local community college. The lucky ones had rooms in Monterey.

I stood there, pictured the crowd for a bit and took some pictures before walking back to the arena entrance. Next to the stage, I noticed a pipe sticking up vertically from the asphalt. It was about two feet high and I calculated it was just tall enough to help me scale the six feet to the stage surface. I looked around and saw that Sparky and I were alone.

With very little effort, I found myself standing on stage. I walked about twenty feet towards center stage and stopped to look out over the arena. I thought about all the people who had witnessed the birth of a musical revolution that long ago weekend on the California coast. I started to think about the musicians who had performed on the stage and suddenly had an epiphany. I realized that I was on the exact spot where Hendrix had burned his guitar and began his legend.

I soaked it up for a minute or two before climbing down from the stage with the assistance of Sparky. I told her it was one of my great rock moments. "Better than playing Duane Allman's Strat while you sat on Hendrix's couch?" she asked.

"Nope, but real close."

Live Rock Albums

2010-12-03T16:27:00Z

By: Martin Rots

I recently read a review of the remixed, live Rolling Stones album, Get Yer Ya Yas Out. You know the one where you hear a woman's voice, with a distinct east coast accent yells out, "Play Paint it Black, you devil." In the review he mentions that he thinks it's one of the best live albums ever released. Maybe he likes the picture of Jagger with the Uncle Sam Hat and the donkey roadie carrying the equipment. I'm sure the jack-ass is a metaphor for something, I'm just not sure what. Their earlier live album, Got Live if you Want It!, featured the customary screaming girls and bad sound system.

I was a rabid Stones fan in the day and I bought both of them, but I didn't care for either, that much. Same goes for the Jefferson Airplane live on Bless It's Little Pointed Head. In fact, I don't care a lot for live albums as a rule. Especially from the Classic Rock era. A lot of them suffer from poor sound systems and the archaic audio technology available at the time. You'll notice that the Beatles organization has never been shy about re-releasing the Beatles' catalogue, but we haven't seen or heard The Beatles Live at the Hollywood Bowl released digitally. Maybe the girls' screams were too shrill to reproduce digitally.

Sometimes a live album is the answer when an artist or group of artists have creatively run dry. It's a great way to make some more money by recycling the same old material. If you record an entire tour, it's likely you'll be able to cull together an entire set without any embarrassing mistakes. The release buys time to work on new original material and momentarily at least, satisfies the fans.

In spite of some really lame, live albums, there are a few that were truly outstanding. One of my favorites was atypical for the time. There was no studio album of the material. John Mayall's The Turning Point featured live, inspired performances by a band unique in Mayall's long history. There was no drummer and the music was closer to jazz than rock or Mayall's customary blues. I was fortunate to have seen it performed live at the Mount Clemens Pop Festival in 1969. It is still some of my favorite music to this day.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is the first MC5 album, Kick Out the Jams. I was at the Grande Ballroom to see them record on Halloween night 1968. The Five (as we called them at that time) were the house band at the Grande. We'd been watching them evolve into a powerhouse of energy at nearly every venue in Detroit. Billed as the Zenta New Year, the Five aimed to please that night. It's been over forty years since they took the stage at the Grande, but the album still conveys not only the spirit of the times, but the unbridled enthusiasm of the band and their appreciative audience.

Live at Leeds was recorded in February 1970 and released the following May. It captures the Who at their peak. The product of years of relentless touring, Live at Leeds initially featured just six tracks. Technical limitations prevented the entire set from being released until the digital age. It is often mentioned as one of, if not, the best, live album of all time. The fullness of the sound is remarkable for a trio. Townsend, Moon and Entwhistle are definitely in synch. Roger Daltrey hits all the notes in perfect concert with his band mates. They cover Eddie Cochran's Summertime Blues, Mose Allison's Young Man's Blues and Johnny Kidd's, Shakin' All Over bringing new vitality to the songs. A nearly fifteen minute version of My Generation exemplifies the energy of the original band.

On Wheels of Fire, Eric Clapton displayed the kind of playing that earned him the nickname "Slowhand" and prompted his fans to write, "Clapton is God" on the walls of the London underground. His skill is particularly evident on Crossroads. Recorded at Winterland (not the Fillmore West) in February 1968, his original solo performance allegedly had over ten minutes edited out of the final track. In spite of this sacrilege, Clapton's was at the top of his form that nightl. I'd love to hear the entire unedited performance.

Jimi Hendrix did two shows New Year's Eve 1969 at the Fillmore East. They were recorded to fulfill a contract with Capital Records and released as Band of Gypsys. After an early show, in which Hendrix gyrated and played with his teeth, an angry Bill Graham told him to go out for the second show and "just play." That's what Hendrix did and the results are outstanding on tracks like Machine Gun, Who Knows and Changes with Buddy Miles on vocals. It's the second set that you hear on the recording.

Also recorded at the Fillmore East less than three months later was the Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore East. Released as a double album, Duane Allman shines playing the slide guitar he would use so effectively on Eric Clapton's Layla. Whipping Post, at almost twenty-three minutes, took up an entire side of the vinyl release. In Memory of Elizabeth Reed was...well, memorable.

J. Geils Band's Live Full House, was if nothing else, full of energy. Recorded in Detroit at the Cinderella Ballroom, in the presence of almost the same audience that had witnessed the MC5 record their first effort on the other side of town at the Grande two years earlier, Live Full House delivered what it promised. In light of the enthusiastic audiences the Geils Band encountered in Detroit, they recorded two live albums there and part of a third one. Once again, I was lucky enough to be in the audience that night. Hard Drivin' Man had enough energy to keep that Detroit audience moving late into the night. The whole album is relentless, like a multiple orgasm that just won't let you catch your breath. The fun never stops, even when they become slightly less manic with a breezy Homework. In between Homework and Pack Fair and Square, Peter Wolf famously declares, "Take out your false teeth mama, I want to suck on your gums."

No one doubted his sincerity.

The English Invasion Is Repelled!

2010-12-03T16:15:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

Freddie Garrity and the Dreamers released the inane dance tune Do the Freddy in late 1965. It's release signaled the last gasp of the British Invasion, a musical death rattle of sorts. By 1966, the English bands had lost their grip on the American charts. The Beatles and the Stones were still selling records to be sure, but the second and third string British Invasion acts didn't stand a chance against the new American bands that rose to prominence in 1965. After the initial wave of English bands came to dominate the American charts, the American musicians gathered their forces, evaluated the situation and rose to the occasion.

The race was on and the prize was enormous. Singers, songwriters and musicians were flocking to Los Angeles for the weather and their shot at fame. The Byrds released Terry Melcher's production masterpieces, Mr. Tambourine Man in June 1965 and Turn, Turn, Turn the following December. Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys still had some surprises up their sleeves when they left the beach behind. In 1966, the B Boys gave us Sloop John B and Wilson's masterpiece, Pet Sounds. In New York, Neil Diamond, Carol King and the rest of the Brill Building bunch weren't exactly sitting on their hands. Motown was churning out hit after hit in direct competition with both coasts and the Brits. As a creative period in popular music, it is unrivaled.

In mid-1964, just about any band or individual with a Beatle-cut, an English accent and an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show could get a hit record in the States such was the hysteria the Beatles had created. American bands even took English sounding names to be more marketable. The Beau Brummels weren't from Notting Hill or Chelsea. In spite of their name, they were recording in San Francisco as part of another nascent scene. In late 1965, New Jersey's Knickerbockers released Lies, which went to #20 early in 1966. It was such a clever imitation of the Beatles that many people still mistake it for an obscure Beatles' cut.

The Beatles were no longer exclusively the domain of thirteen year old girls, they were beginning to mature and along with them, their music and audience. Rolling Stones' manager Andrew Oldham locked Mick and Keith in a room until they came out with an original composition. Their success that day insured their futures. This brings us back to Freddie and the Dreamers and the dance tune, Do the Freddie. In the spring of 1965, they had had a #1 hit in the US with I'm Telling You Now after an obligatory appearance on Ed Sullivan. I'm uncertain if Garrity was truly the buffoon he appeared to be on stage while performing the song, he swung his arms as if he were doing jumping jacks, an idiot's grin across his face and Buddy Holly's glasses perched on his nose. Sometimes, he would only swing the limbs on the left side of his body, other times the right. It was a very short lived dance craze as dance crazes go. He made Joe Cocker's early performances look sedate by comparison. What was effective on an English music hall stage was not necessarily effective with the American TV audiences. Do the Freddie only went to #18 in the US charts and the Dreamers quickly dropped out of sight. Folk rock was the new big thing and Freddie and/or the Dreamers would not be part of it. His comedic stage persona didn't fit anymore. With the introduction of psychedelica in late 1966, he became a musical anachronism.

Rock was maturing and there were few clowns required in the days that lay ahead.

1966 was actually more of a watershed year than the psychedelic period that began in 1967 with the Summer of Love, Monterey Pop and the release of Sgt. Pepper's by the Beatles. Paul Revere and the Raiders released the anti-drug song Kicks in 1966 on the eve of the cultural revolution. Between Kicks and the shtick costumes, they were terribly out of synch with what was about to happen in popular music and would soon be cast into rock oblivion.

The Byrds were hyped as the American Beatles, a title they did or did not really deserve depending on your perspective. By 1966, the Byrds were a well-respected, established act. Los Angeles became a Mecca for rock musicians from all over the United States. Bands like the Doors, Buffalo Springfield and Love were all waiting to emerge from obscurity. In San Francisco, the music scene was exploding with the Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company, The Grateful Dead, Youngbloods, Country Joe and the Fish, Warlocks and many others.

Gone was the two to three minute single that had dominated the AM radio for so long. The Beatles and Bob Dylan put an end to that. Also set to expire was AM radio itself. FM radio was about to overtake it as the predominant delivery system of the new music. An added benefit to FM was that it broadcast in stereo, something AM was incapable of doing. Initially the new "underground" stations were weak and few cars had FM radios in 1966. Ironically, these were the very reasons the existing stations could be bought at a reasonable price. It wasn't long before "underground radio" stations were popping up in every major market in the country. They didn't play top forty from a list generated by the station program director. The DJ played what he pleased as often as he pleased. The three minute single became dead as a door nail.

Not all the British bands folded. The two most notable being the Beatles and Rolling Stones. The marginally talented Brits retired from show business and became accountants and bricklayers and such. Others, like Graham Nash (Hollies) would re-invent themselves. Some big English Invasions acts simply folded or re-invented themselves. The Dave Clark Five who had once rivaled the Beatles as the Brit's favorite rock group became irrelevant as the times washed past them. English music hall favorites like Herman's Hermits became passé. The Kinks became critics of English society and remained a favorite on both sides of the Atlantic.

By the end of the sixties the distinction between American and English bands had faded. Hybrid bands like Delaney and Bonnie had a distinct American sound even with Eric Clapton playing lead guitar. The Rolling Stones were being influenced by American musicians Graham Parsons and Ry Cooder. Joe Cocker fronted Mad Dogs and Englishmen, a conglomerate of Yanks and Brits.

In the end, the importance of the English Invasion is that it revived popular music from the white bread existence it had settled into. Pat Boone would no longer be making the charts with his sanitized renditions of black music cleaned up for a white, middle class audience. The Carnaby Street mod fashions and Beatle cuts led to the wild dress of the sixties and extremely long hair became fashionable as western youth embraced an androgynous look. The era became a continuation of what had started with four young men from Liverpool and a Sunday night variety show in the United States.

Who could have imagined?

Rock and Roll Thanksgiving

2010-12-03T16:07:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

There are two prominent Thanksgiving celebrations that have connections to the Classic rock era. The first, Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie, has become a Thanksgiving music tradition. The second isn't as well-known, but is as well documented in the concert film, The Last Waltz.

A film was also made using the long ballad as the basis of the story. Today, even though the story is a little dated, Alice's Restaurant does give us a peek at what life in the sixties was like for many people. Communal living, harassment from the establishment and long haired, dope smoking hippies take center stage in a production as rooted in the sixties counter-culture as the Broadway production of Hair. The story tells us of a group of friends gathering to celebrate Thanksgiving in an old church that has been dubbed, Alice's Restaurant. The group of friends celebrating Thanksgiving together is a priceless insight into the era. Their arrival at Alice's country church/restaurant is an event unto itself. Guthrie pulls up in the customary VW Microbus (had one myself back in the day) amid much hugging and kissing. The actual dinner is a raucous, joyous event that leaves the participants happy and spent.

They gather the debris that has been generated from the feast along with other accumulated trash and take it to the dump only to discover it's closed. Not wanting to return with the garbage, they find a way to dump the load anyway. When the garbage is discovered by the local lawman, Officer Obie, a letter at the bottom of the pile addressed to Arlo gives him away as the perpetrator of the heinous crime. Guthrie is duly arrested and convicted of littering. Ironically, in the end, Guthrie's conviction prevents him from being drafted.

Over the years, the song has become a Thanksgiving tradition. Classic rock stations in particular can be counted on playing it at least once on Thanksgiving Day. At almost nineteen minutes, it's usually promoted as a holiday event.

On November 25, 1976 at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco, 5,000 people gathered to eat Thanksgiving dinner together and witness one of the most remarkable concerts of the era. The event, dubbed The Last Waltz by The Band, was to celebrate their decision to cease touring after almost two decades on the road. They invited their friends to join them at Winterland in an extravaganza organized and orchestrated by their longtime friend, Bill Graham. Dinner was served cafeteria style to the assembled masses and the clean-up was a happy, noisy communal effort. At 9:00, the music began and the audience settled in for a long, special night.

Among the friends that joined the Band on stage were Bob Dylan, Ringo Starr, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond, Dr. John, Eric Clapton and Joni Mitchell. Each artist performed as a solo act in addition to the jam session that ended the concert. A film made of the event by Martin Scorsese was enigmatically entitled, The Last Waltz. It was released in April 1978 to much critical acclaim.

There was something unique about both of these events that exemplified the period. The people that ate together at the relatively modest gathering at Alice's place and the crowd who attended The Last Waltz celebrated Thanksgiving with their extended family of humanity. This is not to say that they had discarded their genetic families, only that they had expanded the definition of family to include most of humanity. It was a time when the notion of treating each other as brothers and sisters was beginning to be taken seriously.

It was a time that came and went all too quickly.

I, myself, am thankful for many things.

I am thankful for the love of a good woman. I am so fortunate to have her love and support in these trying times.

I am thankful for good friends.

I am thankful for good health.

I am thankful to be living in the greatest country in the world.

What are you thankful for?

Spawn of Pepper

2010-11-05T17:10:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

The Beatles released Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heart's Club Band in June 1967 and popular music would never be the same. McCartney, inspired by the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, realized that the Beatles' could do so much more than three minute pop songs and conceived of a thematic album that never really came to be. Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever the first songs slated for Pepper were not included in the final mix. They were released as singles and later included on Magical Mystery Tour.

George Martin had expanded the musical horizons of the Beatles and the five men had become effective collaborators by the end of 1966 when work began on Pepper. Suddenly there were orchestras and horns, calliopes and sound collages in wonderful abundance. The Beatles were leading the pack and anything they did was sure to be widely imitated.

At first, Pepper's release created confusion. How would anyone perform this music in front of an audience? What had happened to the two guitars, a bass and drums with the occasional keyboard thrown in? The strings that had shown up in Yesterday were a forerunner of George Martin's influence on Lennon and McCartney. The studio experiments that had begun with Revolver were continued in earnest. It no longer mattered if it had a good beat and was easy to dance to.

Popular music had turned a corner no one anticipated.

The problem was, no one knew what street they were on or what direction to go. Six months later, it resulted in the rush release of huge numbers of ill-conceived, poorly executed imitations. Suddenly everyone from the Rolling Stones to the Lovin' Spoonful had horns and strings, sometimes in the most inappropriate places. Sound effects were re-discovered as we were treated to the sounds of ticking clocks and a myriad of animal noises. As artists became "sensitive," they lost their edge.

The Lovin' Spoonful released Everything Playing in September 1967. The Spoonful were a folk rock band that, like the Byrds, had expanded their aural palette to include the now prerequisite, horns and strings. It featured two songs, Six O'clock and She is Still a Mystery, that broke the mold for the band. They were great songs but the Spoonful finished discarding the folk rock label with their release. It had begun with Summer in the City and Everything Playing completed the transition. John Sebastian left the band soon after its release to pursue a solo career.

The Byrds had already been doing a lot of experimentation in the studio when Pepper was released. Eight Miles High on Fifth Dimension, released in 1966, was a breakthrough, but it was still a rock arrangement, no horns, no strings. So You Want to be a Rock and Roll Star preceded Pepper by six months and featured a horn accompaniment that just wouldn't stop.

By the time they released my personal favorite, The Notorious Byrd Brothers, they had been dosed by Pepper. Instead of covering Dylan, their strongest material this time came from Carol King and Gerry Goffin in the form of I Wasn't Born to Follow. Hillman and McGuinn teamed up and provided the lion's share of the new material. By the time the album was completed, they were the only remaining members of the Byrd. David Crosby and Michael Clarke were both fired during the course of making the album even though two of Crosby's tunes, Tribal Gathering and Dolphin's Smile remained on the final release.

Across the Atlantic, the Rolling Stones reaction to Pepper was more severe, it resulted in Their Satanic Majesties Request in December, 1967. Brian Jones knew it was a knee jerk reaction to Pepper and it was the beginning of the end for him. It was an album that just didn't fit. Sandwiched in between the uninspired Between the Buttons and the superb Beggar's Banquet, Request was an anomaly in the Stones catalogue.

Almost every established rock act in 1967 attempted to emulate Pepper, some more successfully than others. Some efforts were more embarrassing than interesting. For many acts, it was the beginning of the end, a signal to produce their swan song and make a graceful exit from the music business. Others continued to embarrass themselves until the record companies pulled the plug.

I, for one, was happy when the Stones went back to being the Stones.

To learn more:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sgt._Pepper%27s_Lonely_Hearts_Club_Band

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Their_Satanic_Majesties_Request

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Notorious_Byrd_Brothers

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Everything_Playing

Finding Ridgetop

2010-10-29T14:54:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

We looked for this tune for a long time. By that I mean five, maybe ten years. The trouble was, we didn't know the name of the tune or the artist. The lyrics didn't give a hint. It wasn't like Help! or Hey Jude where it was hard to miss. If the title was in the lyrics, it was subtle and Candy couldn't remember it or hum the tune.

This made it tough, even for an old music freak like myself.

For a while, she thought it might be Shawn Phillips and we started buying and listening to his music. It wasn't easy to find, especially before the internet. Shawn's own music isn't well known, but if you listen to it long enough, it starts to sound familiar. It sounds very similar to some of Donovan's best work, which he played on in the late sixties.

After several years of searching for Shawn Phillips' music, she still hadn't found the track she was looking for. Frustrated, we began to look elsewhere for the elusive mystery track. She thought she heard it on a Sunday morning show, but the deejay never told us the name of the song.

The search went on.

A few years back, Candy thought it might be by a band called Chase. The name sounded vaguely familiar to me, but they weren't a household name from the sixties. She couldn't find their music anywhere, but somehow, Candy made contact with their former manager. He graciously sent her both Chase albums on CD. One, he burned himself. She listened to the albums for several days and enjoyed them both, but neither of them featured the song she was seeking.

Sometimes, finding and obtaining obscure music can be difficult. It can be even more difficult if you have nothing to go on but a distant memory. She tried singing the tune to me but that brought us no closer to a solution. Time passed and we didn't actively pursue it any longer.

She was checking out the iTunes store one day and buying a few tracks when she stumbled on it. She listened to the twenty-second snatch of the tune they offered up and realized, here at last, was the elusive, long sought after, mystery tune. She immediately bought it and ran excitedly to tell me that the long quest was over.

It was Jesse Colin Young and the song was called Ridgetop. It had been years since I'd heard it. You can't dance to it so they don't play it on the radio anymore. If it were some inane piece of feces with a drum track, I'm sure it would be hard to escape, but it isn't given the consideration it deserves. It's a little different for Mr. Young. Before Ridgetop, I was only familiar with the Youngbloods' two most well known tracks, Get Together and Darkness, Darkness. As an easterner, I had always thought of Jesse Colin Young in the same vein as the Dead, the sublime jazzy feel of Ridgetop changed all that. Living on a wooded ridgetop in northern California for the last three years, a veritable "squirrel sanctuary" as Young would term it, I can easily relate to his lyrics even though they were written decades ago. Ironically, the mountain paradise Young refers to in the song burned to the ground in a 1995 forest fire, leaving the singer and his family homeless.

In the end Sparky was happy and so was I. She loves to dance around the house to it. Ridgetop is a wonderful track and we both play it often. More delightful music to enrich our lives and free our spirits. Go online and buy it today! Invest a dollar. You won't be sorry.

To learn more:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesse_Colin_Young

Wax to Electrons: How We Listen to Music

2010-10-22T13:55:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

The way we listen to music has evolved from Edison's tin cylinders in 1877 to digital media. Most of us remember the old RCA trademark of the dog listening to the phonograph via the giant horn. You needed the ears of a dog to get anything meaningful out of that technology. Still, it was the first step in preserving a live performance for future listening.

The early media was fragile and required careful handling. You couldn't put it in your pocket and the hardware was hardly portable. The first machines were hand cranked, but they were soon replaced by more consistent spring drives. In 1918, wax discs became the predominant media replacing the old tin and celluloid cylinders.

In the beginning, no one could agree on a standard speed the records should be played at and different manufacturers produced records that required different speeds. In 1900, there were two predominant companies producing records, Columbia and Victor. Columbia's records were played at 80 RPM and Victor's were played at 76RPM. By 1925, a compromise was reached and the two companies settled on 78 RPM, which became the industry standard.

78 RPM record albums were replaced by 45 RPM "singles" and 33 1/3 RPM "LP" vinyl albums introduced by RCA Victor in 1931. It wasn't until 1957 that stereo LPs were introduced to the consumer market. For years, you could chose between mono and stereo releases. The stereo records cost one dollar more than the mono release. Many artists, including the Beatles, only released their work in mono during the sixties. True stereo releases often lagged behind the initial mono releases by months, sometimes years.

I remember seeing a 45 RPM record player in a car when I was a kid in the fifties. I was too young to understand the significance at the time, but it created enough of an impression on me that I still remember seeing it. The car was parked when I heard Elvis belt out Hound Dog. I can't imagine trying to keep a needle in the groove while tooling down the street.

Many years later in 1963, I saw my first four-track tape machine in a yellow Cadillac convertible. My uncle had a cool friend who was an executive at Liberty Records in Hollywood. My cousins and I liked him because he knew Jan and Dean, local surf music heroes. One day at a pool party, he took us out to his car and opened the glove box to reveal a four track tape player. He popped in Surf City and my female cousins danced in the driveway while I marveled at the new technology.

Four track tapes gave way to eight track tapes. Like the four tracks, this tech had the annoying habit of changing tracks right in the middle of the tune. Hendrix could be wailing when all of a sudden the music would fade, there would be a clicking noise as the playback head was mechanically relocated and the music would fade back in. Compared to today's media, it was amazing that anyone would bother with this primitive technology.

Cassettes were the next step in the revolution. They did away with multiple track changes and only required a tape direction change. The problem with cassettes was that the fidelity sucked. The small surface area on the tape produced a lot of hiss. Dolby Noise Reduction was introduced to combat this, but it also eliminated the high frequencies with the hiss. The result in my humble opinion was pretty lifeless compared to vinyl. Cassettes recorded at home were usually of better sound quality than commercially produced cassettes that were dubbed at high speed.

In 1982 the CD format was introduced and it replaced vinyl and tape as a master media for the home, car and personal players. Formats such as DAT (Digital Audio Tape) and DCC (Digital Compact Cassette) were introduced as competing technologies and quickly disappeared as CDs became ubiquitous. It seemed that the almost indestructible CD had become the prevailing, ultimate media technology.

That was, of course, until the revolution in the storage of digital media took place. Sony Walkmans gave way to IPods. The storage capacity of the two devices are incomparable. The Walkman played a CD, the IPod could be loaded with hundreds of songs and played back through a myriad of devices.

Now it appears that even the venerated IPod is destined for the dustbin as music storage and playback devices (as well as digital cameras and GPS units) are being replaced by smart phones. I once had well over a thousand vinyl albums. They took up a wall of my living room. Over the years I replaced the vinyl with CDs which physically, took much less room to store. Now, my entire collection of music (70G+) is contained on a media storage device only slightly larger than a pack of cigarettes. I still have all my CDs, but I stored them away after copying them to my hard drive. I imagine that they'll remain boxed up for years before I decide to sell them, just like what happened to the vinyl.

It's sad in a way. The CDs, like the vinyl records, have many memories. When I would look through my record collection, certain records would make me nostalgic. They would bring back memories of treasured birthday and Christmas presents, excited purchases and girls I once knew, long ago. I don't know if I'll ever feel that fondly towards my IPod.

Time will tell.

Rock Television

2010-10-15T16:20:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

We were visiting my grandmother in Detroit the first time I remember seeing the Rolling Stones on television. It was 1964 or 1965, I'm not certain any more. They were playing Robin Seymour's Swinging Time after-school dance show. Swinging Time was beamed in from Windsor, Ontario across the Detroit River to our living rooms in the USA. The Stones performed Little Red Rooster for the dancing teens and television audience. Jagger strutted across the stage wearing a striped shirt and Brian Jones looked every bit the rock star he was about to become. Keith had not taken on his death wish persona yet; he looked surprisingly healthy, even in black and white.

It was the heyday of teen television. It had started in 1952 with American Bandstand. Dick Clark became the host in 1957 and built an entertainment empire around the Philadelphia based dance show. The current teen sensations appeared to lip-synch their latest releases. Music was first integrated into a weekly television show when Ozzie Nelson began regularly featuring his son Ricky crooning to the camera on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet.

It wasn't long after the Beatles arrived in 1964 that American television producers realized the potential of the British Invasion and the inevitable American backlash. Clark produced a new, more contemporary after-school music show called Where the Action Is featuring Paul Revere and the Raiders as the house band. There were no dancing teenagers on this show, only go-go girls in white boots and short skirts or bikini-clad teens at the beach. Filmed in LA, we got our first glimpses of the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield on Action. In September 1964, ABC premiered Shindig! in prime time. A list of the artists who appeared on Shindig! is literally a Who's Who of the popular music industry of the mid-sixties. NBC joined the fray soon after with Hullabaloo and a London segment hosted by the Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein. By the end of August 1966, both shows had run their course and were cancelled.

That fall, The Monkees replaced Hullabaloo at NBC on Monday nights. Inspired by the Beatles' first film, A Hard Day's Night, The Monkees was aimed at the same teens who had made the Beatles such a phenomena. Initially, the four Monkees only provided vocals to their hits. Top LA songwriters provided the material and the best studio musicians played on the sessions. The weekly show promoted their records much as Ozzie Nelson had done so successfully ten years previously with his son Ricky.

Variety shows were big in the mid-sixties. If you were lucky, you might catch the Rolling Stones on Dean Martin's show or of course the Beatles following Topo Gigo on Ed Sullivan's Sunday night crowd pleaser, The Ed Sullivan Show. Sullivan had been promoting rock acts since Elvis. To the British acts, playing the Sullivan show meant you had made it in America. The exposure guaranteed a hit and everyone from the Animals to the Zombies were awaiting their turn in the spotlight on Sullivan's stage.

The Smothers Brothers brought us the Who, George Harrison and the Jefferson Airplane, among others. On one classic episode, Keith Moon of the Who miscalculated the amount of explosives required to blow up his drums. He erred on the high side. When the charge went off at the end of their performance, Moon was wounded by a piece of flying shrapnel and Pete Townsend's hair was left smoking and singed. When a shocked Tommy Smothers walked out on the stage, Townsend grabbed his guitar and smashed it on the stage just as he done to his own only moments before. In addition to the cutting edge musical acts, the Smothers Brothers political satire became more and more critical of the war in Viet Nam and the Johnson administration. They finally lost their battle with the network censors when their show was cancelled in September 1969. With the cancelation of the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour we lost an important national showcase for new musical talent.

In June 1971, after twenty-eight years The Ed Sullivan Show had finally run its course and was also cancelled. Variety shows had fallen victim to the changing tastes of the American public. It wasn't long before they were no more than distant memories.

In 1973, producer Don Kirshner brought us Don Kirshner's Rock Concert at 11:30 PM on Saturday nights. The premiere episode featured the Rolling Stones taped in London. Like Shindig! before it, the list of performers who appeared on Rock Concert during its eight year run included nearly all the major acts of the seventies performing live. No more lip synching like in the past. In October 1975, Saturday Night Live debuted on NBC and featured a weekly musical guest much as the Smothers Brothers had done more than five years previously. Some have been established artists like Paul Simon and others relatively unknown, like a young Elvis Costello. The show has maintained this musical tradition for over thirty-five years.

Watching reruns of SNL's musical guests is interesting. Some of these fledgling performers went on to be big stars and others quickly faded into obscurity. Some seem dated and others make me nostalgic. I remember how old some of the performers looked to me when I was a teenager and how young they look in the films today. It seems amazing that such young people made so much wonderful music in such a short period of time, but I'm glad they did.

If you're reading this, I'll bet you are, too.

Pearl

2010-10-08T16:08:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

Janis Joplin was the most tragic figure of the Classic Rock era. Monday, October 4, 2010 marked the 40th anniversary of Janis' checking out of the Landmark Hotel in Los Angeles...permanently. The anniversary of her death passed without notice. I didn't see anything on television or the internet marking her passing. At the time, it had taken us by surprise coming just weeks after Jimi Hendrix's death the previous month. It was almost overshadowed by Jimi's passing and many of us were afraid it was the beginning of a trend. Brian Jones had died in England the previous year and Jim Morrison would die on the anniversary of Brian's death in 1971. Strangely, they would all die at twenty-seven years of age.

It almost seemed like a trend was beginning.

No one talks about Pearl's passing much. Everyone knows she died from a heroin overdose. Too bad, but that's the price you pay when you dabble in death drugs. The possibility was always there. Janis had been trying to get clean in San Francisco, but when she arrived in L.A. to record what would be her last album, she became reacquainted with her heroin taking and dealing friends and sealed her fate.

Most of the visiting rock stars in Los Angeles stayed at the Hyatt (Riot) House or the Chateau Marmont. The Landmark Hotel was popular with the stars who pursued a quieter, more private, means of self-destruction. She was alone at the Landmark. No one from the band was staying there, but it suited Pearl. It was quieter and less manic than the drama to be found at the previously mentioned inns.

You could nod out in private without being disturbed or hearing a lecture.

Her new album, Pearl, was almost done. On October 1, Janis recorded the vocals for the classic Mercedes Benz. During the session, Janis recorded a birthday message for John Lennon, a message he wouldn't receive until after her death. All the instrumental tracks were complete and all Janis had left to do was to put the vocals on Buried Alive in the Blues. In the end, the track was released without a vocal.

On the night of her death, Janis was trying to get her new boyfriend, Seth Morgan and girlfriend, Peggy Caserta to her room for a three way sexual encounter. Seth was in San Francisco and when Janis sent him traveling money to come to L.A., he spent it romancing another woman. Peggy, Janis' longtime lover was trying to distance herself from Janis and heroin. That was how Joplin came to be alone at the Landmark the last night of her life.

She'd had visitors earlier in the evening including a member of the GTO's and French Count Jean deBreteuil. Living in Los Angeles on an expired student visa, Jean fancied himself heroin dealer to the stars in Los Angeles. It was he who provided her with the heroin that would kill her. Jean had been having a long affair with Pamela Courson, Jim Morrison's girlfriend. Through her, he had met many of rock's elite when they visited Los Angeles. He claimed that the heroin he sold was delivered in a French diplomatic pouch from Marseilles. Wherever it came from, the heroin that killed Joplin was extremely pure.

Janis wasn't an IV drug user. That means she didn't inject heroin into a vein, she injected it into a muscle. The big difference between the two is that the reaction from injecting heroin intra-muscularly is delayed. Injected directly into a vein, the effect of heroin is almost instant.

After her company had left, Janis tried unsuccessfully to contact both Seth and Peggy. It was getting later and she grew despondent when she realized that neither of them would be making an appearance that evening. It was then that she went down to the hotel lobby for a pack of cigarettes. She got change for the machine from the clerk and made small talk for a few minutes. He would be the last person to see her alive.

When she got back upstairs, she took off her slacks and put them on the bed. It was then that the heroin hit her and she collapsed. On the way down, she hit her face on the nightstand. It's likely that she was already dead before she hit the floor. Her body lay there all night.

The next afternoon she was due at the studio to record the vocals for Buried Alive in the Blues and when she didn't show up, her road manager, John Cooke, became concerned and went to the Landmark. Her psychedelic Porsche was in the parking lot where she had left it the previous day. When she didn't answer the door, he had the manager use his pass key. They found Joplin dead on the floor with a bloody lip and broken nose from her encounter with the nightstand.

That night, the band and crew gathered at Barney's Beanery to mourn her passing. The party had been planned as a wrap party for the album, instead it was a solemn occasion. It wasn't long before they were joined by a morose Jim Morrison. Joplin had once broke a wine bottle over a drunken Morrison's head. They had kept their distance from each other until hendrix died. it wasn't long after that the two made peace. Her death had left Morrison visibly shaken. After a few quickly downed drinks, Morrison raised his glass and announced to no one in particular, "You're drinking with number three."

No one knew it then, but Morrison had almost exactly nine months left on the planet. The heroin that would kill him was provided in Paris by none other than Jean deBreteuil who would soon be found dead of a heroin overdose himself in North Africa.

The greatest tragedy, however, was that Pearl died without finding love. In the end, the comfort she found in heroin was no replacement for the love and acceptance she sought, but never found, in life.

Who Killed Jimi Hendrix? Part 4

2010-10-01T13:55:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

When the paramedics arrived at the Samarkand Hotel late on the morning of September 18, 1970, Jimi Hendrix's lover, Monica Dannemann, was nowhere to be found even though it was her room. They later testified that the apartment door was open and the small flat was empty with the exception of Hendrix's still body in the bedroom. Jimi had died in the early morning hours sometime between three and four AM. He was already cold.

They were much too late.

Upon awakening, Monica went out for cigarettes around ten that morning. She initially claimed that Hendrix was sleeping soundly at that time and she didn't want to disturb him when she got up. Upon her return, she became concerned when she was unable to rouse him from his sleep. Instead of calling an ambulance, she called Jimi's friend, Eric Burdon. Alvinia Bridges answered the phone and advised Monica to call an ambulance. When Monica called back a few minutes later, she still hadn't called for help. Eric Burdon told her in no uncertain terms to immediately call for an ambulance, which she finally did at 11:18 AM. It arrived nine minutes later.

This is where the stories diverge.

When the ambulance arrived, they found the flat door open, but the attendants claim they found no one but the lifeless form of Hendrix in the apartment. After an initial examination, they transported him to St. Mary Abbots Hospital where he was declared DOA. According to Dannemann, she worked to revive Hendrix while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. When it did, she rode with Jimi to the hospital and was separated from him in the emergency room. Many years later, a doctor who was present that day, recalled a hysterical woman, possibly Dannemann.

What happened in the hours immediately after Hendrix and Monica arrived at her flat? Those who knew with certainty are dead. According to Monica, she prepared a meal of tuna sandwiches for the two of them and they washed it down with some red wine before retiring. Jimi sat up in the bed and wrote a poem/song while relaxing before he fell asleep. Eric Burdon later misinterpreted it as a suicide note, which started the suicide legend. Those who knew Hendrix at that time say it is unlikely that Hendrix committed suicide. The post-mortem medical exam found he had consumed nine Vesperax tablets from a container of forty-two. Suffering from chronic insomnia, Hendrix had built up a tolerance for pharmaceuticals over the years. If his intention was to kill himself, it seems that he would have taken all the tablets. He was tired from touring, but not depressed. That night he told Monica he wanted to sleep for, "a day and a half." Burdon later recanted his original statement regarding the circumstances of Hendrix's death.

Dannemann revised her story so many times that her testimony lacks credibility. While it is possible she was just the victim of a poor or distorted memory, there is also the possibility that she was trying to conceal the truth, albeit poorly. The question remains as to what motivated her to change her story so often. Was she addled by drugs, frightened or simply possessed a poor memory? We'll never know as she committed suicide in April, 1996

In 1999, James "Tappy" Wright, a former Jimi Hendrix roadie, wrote a book called Rock Roadie in which he claims that Hendrix's manager, Mike Jeffrey, confessed to ordering Hendrix's death so he could collect on a large insurance policy he had taken out on the musician. Jeffrey allegedly made the confession to a stunned Wright in the months immediately following Hendrix's death. The publication of Wright's book caused a furor among the conspiracy theorists. The big question being why he had maintained silence for almost thirty years. At the time of the book's publication, Dr. John Bannister, Hendrix's attending emergency room physician, stated that the amount of wine found in Hendrix's lungs and in his hair and clothes was consistent with the claim of murder. Was it possible that Jimi died from being water boarded with wine? No one mentions any bruises or defensive wounds on Jimi's body. It is unlikely that Jimi, a former paratrooper, would meekly succumb to his assassins without putting up a fight, unless he was heavily drugged. If his murderers were able to easily subdue and murder him, why would they leave a witness like Dannemann? In a situation like this, swearing someone to secrecy is an insufficient means to insure silence. There is really only one way to make certain someone doesn't talk, but inexplicitly, Hendrix's alleged murderers don't chose to permanently silence Monica.

Mike Jeffrey had a shady past. The former manager of the Animals had made all their earnings disappear into his personal bank accounts in the Cayman Islands. After selling millions of records and making hundreds of personal appearances, the Animals were broke at the end of their relationship with their manager. He also claimed to be a former British intelligence officer and bragged about his organized crime ties. The day Hendrix died, Jeffrey was in Spain on business. Could he have been involved in the death of Hendrix? Possibly, but Jeffrey isn't around to defend himself as he died in a plane crash in Spain in 1973.

The big problem with the insurance policy scam theory is that insurance companies don't just hand out multi-million dollar checks without looking into things first. In spite of stories of Jeffrey paying off business debts and living the high life soon after Jimi died, there doesn't seem to be any evidence of an insurance company issuing a check or ordering an inquest into his death. This casts suspicion on the whole theory.

Clearly, Dannemann knew more than she told. An examination of Hendrix's body indicated that he had died between three and four that morning. This disputes Dannemann's claim that Hendrix was alive when she returned with her cigarettes around 10:30 AM. Dannemann's account of that night changed so many times that she was deemed an unreliable witness.

What was she trying to hide?

Perhaps she was trying to clean the apartment of drugs before calling the authorities. Maybe she herself was so high when she discovered Jimi had died that she needed to regain her composure. It's easy to imagine her making the call, leaving the door open behind her and watching the ambulance arrive from down the street. It's hard to believe that neither of the ambulance men recall anyone other than Hendrix, let alone a tall, blonde German woman, at the apartment when they arrived. The two police officers summoned to the scene had similar recollections.

So what happened and who was involved? The insurance murder on the orders of Mike Jeffrey seems unlikely. If Jimi was trying to commit suicide, why didn't he take enough of the Vesperax to do the job? He had plenty. A habitual insomniac, Hendrix was familiar with barbiturates and their effects. His body also had a high tolerance for the drugs.

Perhaps the Vesperax was just a distraction. Perhaps the real drug that killed Jimi was something special that wasn't going to show up in analysis. Maybe the confusion that surrounds his last hours was desirable to certain people. The deaths of Mike Jeffrey and Devon Wilson soon after Hendrix himself died was certainly convenient. Monica Dannemann was the patsy. She had no idea of the dynamics unleashed around her and dealt with them poorly until ending it herself.

There is another possibility, another theory based on conjecture, but no less plausible than the existing stories. It has been suggested that Hendrix was killed by agents of the United States government. Perhaps these agents took things into their own hands and went well beyond their orders and conducted a rogue operation to rid the world of Jimi Hendrix and a few of his contemporaries. In the end, maybe it wasn't the Vesperax or the wine, or Mike Jeffrey or Monica Dannemann that ended Jimi's life. Maybe someone close to him arranged his last exit under the direction of people who knew how to do these things discretely.

My book, The Woodstock Conspiracy dramatizes the theory I arrived at after ten years of research into the deaths of John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin. To find out what I learned, order a copy today by following the link on the Home Page.

Who Killed Jimi Hendrix? Part 3

2010-09-24T15:17:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

Jimi Hendrix started off his last day on the planet by riding with Alan Douglas to the airport. This in itself seems odd, unless Hendrix wanted to discuss business on the trip. Jimi was working a different shift from most people. He went to bed around the time most people were starting their day. Never-the-less, Hendrix accompanied him to the airport, presumably to discuss their pending business relationship.

Back in the city, Jimi and Monica Dannemann went to the bank followed by a shopping trip to the Kensington Market. While browsing at the market, Hendrix and Dannemann encountered one of Hendrix's many female friends, Kathy Etchingham. After a brief conversation, Jimi invited her to join him later in the afternoon in his suite at the Cumberland Hotel.

Most men in the company of their alleged fiancé, would be reluctant to invite another woman back to their hotel. This casts a shadow over the whole issue as to whether Dannemann was indeed Hendrix's fiancé. Most women would not look kindly at her man inviting another woman for an afternoon tryst. If there were any words between the two women, they have been lost in the mists of time. Most likely, Monica stood there and scowled as was her habit when confronted with Jimi's many female friends and lovers.

From Kensington, the pair went on to browse the shops on the King's Road. In Chelsea, they encountered Stella Douglas and Devon who invited Jimi (but not Monica) to a dinner party that night. At this point, it had to be tough being Hendrix's "fiancé." During the course of just a few hours, Jimi had arranged two encounters with other women while in Monica's presence. Whether Jimi was putting her in her place or was simply oblivious is questionable. Whatever the motivation, it had to be disconcerting to Monica.

Hendrix and Monica returned to his suite at the Cumberland Hotel that afternoon and Jimi made some phone calls while Monica cooled her heels. Around 7:00, Mitch Mitchell called to remind Hendrix of a jam scheduled that evening with Sly Stone. It was a gig Hendrix would miss. Kathy Etchingham never showed up and around 8:00 PM the two of them went to Monica's basement flat at the Samarkand.

Per Monika Dannemann, around 1:00 AM on September 18, Hendrix asked Monica to drive him to the dinner party he had been invited to by Stella and Devon. Surprisingly, Monica agreed and dropped him off at the Cumberland Place flat soon after. According to Monica, Jimi was going to tell Devon he never wanted to see her again, but that may have been wishful thinking on her part. Hendrix gave her a phone number and arranged for Monica to pick him up later.

According to Angie Burdon (Eric Burdon's wife) who also attended the party, Hendrix actually arrived much earlier with her and Devon. At the party, Hendrix and Devon both took a Black Bomber (barbiturate) and followed it up with a little LSD. Devon ended up passing out, but Hendrix enjoyed the evening, socializing with the many guests. Early on the morning of September 18, Monica called the number Hendrix had given her from a nearby hotel. Hendrix had Stella talk to her, claiming that Jimi couldn't come to the phone. When Monica insisted on talking to Hendrix, Stella grew belligerent and hung up on her. Monica returned to the flat and engaged in several heated conversations over the intercom before finally being allowed to talk to Jimi, who left the party soon after.

From the party, they picked up Jimi's friend, Alvinia Bridges and went for a drink. From there, the trio went to Ronnie Scott's where Alvinia was looking forward to seeing Eric Burdon's new band, War. Jimi and Monica dropped off Alvinia and headed back to Monica's flat at the Samarkand early in the morning of Friday, September, 18. Monica prepared tuna fish sandwiches and poured two glasses of red wine. They shared the meal and Hendrix went to the bedroom where he wrote a last poem before falling asleep.

What happened in those final hours before the ambulance was called at Eric Burdon's insistence is vague. Monica Dannemann changed her story several times before she herself died in April, 1996. Burdon's story also changed with time. The only thing that is known for certain is that sometime on the morning of September 18, Jimi Hendrix died.

Some accounts say he was already dead when the ambulance arrived, others that he died in the ambulance or soon after arriving at the hospital. There is a great deal of inconsistency in the stories that were told regarding his last twenty-four hours. What is certain is that Jimi Hendrix died that morning under very mysterious circumstances.

Over the years, different accounts have appeared regarding Hendrix's final hours and the events leading up to his death. There are murder conspiracy theories galore regarding Hendrix's premature death all those years ago. The passage of time has not added any clarification to the issue. No earthshaking new information has been revealed that can be corrobrated.

In the next installment, we'll explore the different theories as to what actually occurred that September morning in London.

Who killed Jimi Hendrix? Part 2

2010-09-17T14:35:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

The last week of Jimi Hendrix's life was filled with conflict. Most of it was due to his multiple relationships and jealousy between the women in his life, but there were also business considerations stirring up trouble.

His management contract with Mike Jeffries was about to expire and Hendrix, who had been butting heads with Jeffries over the direction his music should take, was ready for a change. Alan Douglas had worked with Hendrix in the studio on Izabella, Stepping Stone and Room Full of Mirrors. Primarily known for his work with jazz artists such as Miles Davis, Douglas was interested in representing Hendrix as his manager. His wife, Stella, was an accomplished seamstress who had created some of Hendrix's more outstanding stage costumes including the white buckskin, beaded fringe jacket Jimi wore at Woodstock. She was also an old friend of Jimi's.

Alan Douglas had come to London to cement his relationship with Hendrix and pitch his services as Jimi's new manager. Jeffries and Hendrix had become estranged during the recording of Electric Ladyland, which Jeffries' considered barely commercial and as a double album, expensive to manufacture. Profits was what Jeffries was interested in, not art. Jeffries didn't want Hendrix to make changes to his stage presentation, even though Hendrix had grown weary of humping his guitar, setting it on fire and other tricks he now considered no more than gimmicks. His desire to expand the band beyond a trio also angered Jeffries who saw it as no more than an additional expense. Jeffries didn't want to do anything that might upset the money-making machine.

Douglas had made a mistake when he brought Devon Wilson to London. One of the reasons Hendrix was in London, and not New York, was his desire to avoid her. As the years had passed, Devon had become more deeply involved with heroin and cocaine. Hendrix was trying to distance himself from her, possibly trying to end the relationship all together. When Hendrix first saw her in London, he was furious with the hapless Douglas who had been assured by Devon that her surprise visit would be welcomed by Jimi. Douglas immediately began damage control to smooth things over with Jimi.

Wilson had met Hendrix when she was living in Laurel Canyon, not long after the Monterey International Pop Festival in the summer of 1967. On her own since she was fifteen, Devon was a street-smart runaway from Milwaukee and worldly beyond her years. Her name had been linked with Mick Jagger, Brian Jones and Eric Clapton among others. It was Hendrix that she wanted though. Jimi wrote the song Dolly Dagger about her. The line, "she's been riding broomsticks since she was fifteen," referred to her working as a prostitute in Las Vegas prior to relocating in Los Angeles and becoming a groupie. Drinking "blood from a jagged edge," is a reference to Devon licking the blood from Mick Jagger's injured hand at Jimi's 27th birthday party in Manhattan. Later, to arouse Jimi's jealousy, she left with Jagger.

Hendrix didn't care.

To make matters worse, Jimi's German girlfriend, the tall and leggy Monica Dannemann connected with him and she was having a difficult time coming to grips with the multitude of women in Hendrix's life, most of whom seemed to be in London all at the same time. Barely conversant in English and insanely jealous, Monica didn't understand her role in Jimi's life or the foolishness of calling herself his "fiancé." That she and Devon Wilson would end up having a very public, angry encounter was inevitable. Their possessiveness regarding Jimi was foolish and was an indication of how little either woman truly understood Jimi Hendrix.

On the morning of September 17, Jimi drove Douglas to the airport to catch a flight back to New York. In New York, Douglas would begin to lay the groundwork to take over the management of Hendrix. He hoped to make it a smooth transition for his new client. Mike Jefferies days as Jimi's manager were as numbered as Jimi's own and Alan Douglas would never manage Jimi Hendrix.

The stage was being set for Jimi's final performance, there were multiple, jealous lovers, delicate business negotiations and a mixture of sex, drugs and booze. All the ingredients of a dramatic exit. As the final week passed, all the factors began to intertwine into a psychedelic Gordian knot that would never be fully unraveled. There are many conflicting stories from "reliable" witnesses regarding Hendrix's last days. Chas Chandler accused the British music press of making up quotes attributed to him regarding Jimi's final hours saying he never spoke to them regarding Jimi's death.

One thing is certain, however, by noon on September 18, 1970, Jimi Hendrix was no longer among the living.

Next: Jimi's last night on the planet

Who Killed Jimi Hendrix?

2010-09-10T15:10:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

Who murdered Jimi Hendrix? That's right, I said murdered, because there are too many unanswered questions to assume he died a natural or accidental death. There have been many theories as to how Hendrix died and he himself seemed to have a preoccupation and awareness that his life would be short. It is reflected in the lyrics of If 6 Was 9 and Hear My Train A Comin' (Get My Heart Back Together). Somehow, Jimi knew he would be a shooting star, brilliant and intense in the night sky, but gone almost as soon as you were aware of his existence.

September 18, 2010 marks the fortieth anniversary of his death. Only a few days previous to Jimi's passing, I had lunch with my girlfriend and her brother, who had been working as a roadie for Hendrix. He (he shall remain anonymous) had just come home and he told us of his adventures on the road and his disillusionment with Jimi over his use of heroin. He had enlisted in the army to pursue an education in electronics. Quite a change from the rock and roll lifestyle he had been living. That lunch would be the last time I saw either one of them. His sister and I broke up over the phone a few days later.

Before starting what would be his final U.S. tour, Hendrix spent several days in Los Angeles recording at the Record Plant. On April 25, 1970 he began his Cry of Love Tour with a performance at the Forum in Los Angeles followed the next day with a gig at Cal Expo in Sacramento California. From Sacramento, Jimi began a grueling tour that was almost uninterrupted until he reached New York City and his Electric Lady Studios on July 1. He spent two days working in the studio before flying to Georgia for The Atlanta International Pop Festival. From Atlanta, he continued the tour, which ended in Honolulu on August 1. Hendrix took a few weeks off to relax and recover in Hawaii before returning to New York and Electric Lady Studios for what would be his final studio sessions.

On August 27, Hendrix flew from New York to Heathrow in London for a series of interviews preceding his performance at the Isle of Wight Festival on August 30. Isle of Wight was a disaster from the beginning. Unruly crowds booed his appearance, but an indifferent Hendrix didn't care. His set had been rescheduled due to rain and as a precautionary measure against electrocution. From the Isle of Wight, Hendrix headed to Scandinavia for concerts in Sweden and Denmark. From Copenhagen, Denmark, Hendrix went to Germany for two final concerts. One in Berlin and his final concert appearance on September 6, at the Love and Peace Festival on the Isle of Fehmarn. At the conclusion of his performance, Hendrix immediately flew back to London for some much needed rest and checked into the Cumberland Hotel where he had two suites reserved, but would seldom use during his last days. In less than two weeks, Jimi would be dead.

It was at this time that a number of people important in Hendrix's life began to converge on London. Alan Douglas and his wife Stella flew in from New York with Jimi's long-time lover, Devon Wilson, in tow. Monika Dannemann, Jimi's German girlfriend and former figure skater arrived and took a flat at the Samarkand Hotel in Notting Hill to await the arrival of her "fiancé." In addition to Devon and Monica, London was the home of Kathy Etchingham, Hendrix's English liaison. Also in town was Alvina Bridges, Hendrix's former pre-fame New York girlfriend whom he hadn't seen in over two years. His first week in London, Hendrix spent nights at the flat of American, Debbie Toomey, in Fulham.

Jimi's first few days in London were spent tending to his friend and bass player, Billy Cox, who had been unknowingly slipped LSD. Unprepared for the hallucinogenic drug's effects, Cox proceeded to have a mental breakdown and became exceedingly paranoid, in fear for his life. Cox wanted to return to the United States, but Hendrix convinced his old army buddy to stay in London for a few days while his mental condition stabilized. When he felt more at ease, Cox returned to his parent's home in Pennsylvania. Cox continued in the music business, but his rock star days as bassist for Jimi Hendrix were now behind him.

On September 10, Hendrix attended a party for Mike Nesmith of the Monkees at the Inn on the Park Hotel with his friend, Record Mirror journalist Keith Altman. Nesmith first heard Hendrix while having dinner in London with members of the Beatles and Eric Clapton. John Lennon played him a tape on a small reel to reel at the table after they ate and raved about Jimi's recent London performance. Hendrix and Nesmith had become friendly when the Jimi Hendrix Experience had toured America, opening for the Monkees. The relationship between the bands had ended when Hendrix grew weary of the fourteen year old girls continually screaming for the Monkees throughout his set. He left the tour with no hard feelings, having suitably impressed the manufactured Monkees with his talent. Hendrix continued his personal relationship with all of them as witnessed by his attendance at the party. The next day, Hendrix gave his last interview to Altman in his suite at the Cumberland Hotel. It would be published posthumously.

Hendrix didn't know it, but he only had one week left to live.

Next: The last week of Jimi Hendrix's life in the next installment of Who Murdered Jimi Hendrix?

The Rickenbacker 12 String Electric Guitar

2010-09-03T00:00:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

Everyone is familiar with the sound of the Rickenbacker 360 12 string electric guitar. George Harrison played the second one ever made in the early days of the Beatles. Roger McGuinn took it's unique sound and turned it into the Byrds' trademark. Years later, Mike Campbell from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers used it liberally in his retro folk-rock that so appealed to our aging ears. Peter Buck of REM used one extensively in the 1980's.

The Ric, as it is known, is a classic rock instrument. Nothing sounds like a Ric. Two sets of strings, one thick and one thin are tuned an octave apart. When played, it sounds like two guitars being played in harmony. It can be a bitch to keep tuned, but when it is in tune, it sounds like heaven. Listen to the opening of the Byrds' classic cover of Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man or the riff of Ticket to Ride by the Beatles to understand what it can do for a tune. It's right out front. It wasn't just used for folk rock and pop either. Listen to Fred "Sonic" Smith of the MC-5 work out on a Ric and a Marshall stack. Let's just say what Fred does with a Ric isn't for the timid.

I've always wanted a Rickenbacker. Even now, every few years I'll find myself in a guitar shop and if they have one, I'll ask to play it. There's nothing like a 360. The strings feel like a woman's body on my fingertips. The action is light and the first time I strum it, a smile comes to my face. I know a twelve string is a bitch to keep tuned, but it's easy to ignore when someone else performs the chore.

As I play, I begin to plot. It's a good price. It's used, but it looks like new. There's no wear on the fretboard, the neck is straight and not a scratch to be seen. It's black and I prefer the sunburst finish or red, but there are compromises to be made. It was someone's treasure and how sad to have had to part with it. I wonder if he had wanted a Ric for a long time, like me. Maybe the guitar was like a woman you knew you couldn't hang on to. If you were smart, you enjoyed your time together, resigned to the inevitable, knowing that someday you would have to part.

Life intrudes into my thoughts as I play. I already have four guitars and haven't gigged anywhere outside the living room in almost forty years. I would love to own the guitar, but the dishwasher is on its last legs and there's a payment due to the orthodontist.

My wife and I were at the Guitar Center a few years back. I wanted an amp to go with the vintage Mustang I had just acquired. I looked at a Vox AC-30, a mid-size, single cabinet Marshall and a couple of nice Fenders. I played with all the knobs and momentarily turned it up too high which caused everyone in the store to look in our direction.

Candy didn't say anything as I tried each amp with a Strat they graciously let me use. As I plugged into the Marshall she asked me, "Thinking about going on the road?"

That snapped me back to reality. I plugged into a little 15 watt Fender practice amp. It had a lot of effects built into it and truthfully, I wasn't playing Budokan, just the living room. It wasn't going to break the budget and when I paused my playing and looked thoughtfully at it, I saw my wife smile. She had made her point.

I faced reality, at fifty-something, my priorities no longer included electric guitars and amplifiers. I was never going to own a Ric 12, a Vox AC 30 or a Marshall stack. For that matter I'll probably never own a '64 Chevy convertible, either.

I'll just have to get over it.

To learn more:

http://www.rickbeat.com/beatles/beatles.htm http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_12-string_guitar_players

http://www.musicradar.com/news/guitars/rems-peter-bucks-stolen-guitar-gets-anonymous-return-174756

Visiting Jim Morrison

2010-08-27T00:47:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

My wife and I were in Paris a few years ago and decided to visit Jim Morrison's grave at Pere Lachaise Cemetery. It was a long way from the Left Bank where our hotel was to the cemetery. When we emerged from the Metro, it was pouring rain. We looked around, got our bearings and found we were right across the street from the cemetery. We crossed the street, turned into the wind and made our way along the cemetery wall until we reached the stone gatehouse. No one tried to stop us and we walked right through the gate. We followed the pavement and came upon a stone building with a map of the cemetery posted on its wall.

Pere Lachaise holds the remains of a lot of prominent people including Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde, Alice B. Toklas and of course, Jim Morrison, who used to frequent the cemetery in his final weeks, wandering among the deceased. Land is at a premium in Paris and the cemetery is crowded with headstones. Morrison's final resting place is the most popular among visitors and they come from all over the world to visit Jim.

We wander along the winding paths trying to follow a map from the guidebook, but all we find is other Americans as lost as we are. We band together, consult guidebooks and maps and after much discussion, head off in the wrong direction. It starts raining harder, but we don't care. We are all on a mission and we won't be deterred by rain or bad directions. We find more Americans and feel stronger as our numbers increase. We quickly bond as fellow travelers in a foreign land are prone to do. Maps are once again consulted and the group, unable to come to a consensus, breaks up and goes off in different directions.

Unfazed, Candy and I chose our own path and move out through the downpour. By some miracle, ten minutes later, we stumble upon Morrison's grave. There is no one there but a grim looking, very short woman in a uniform with a better mustache than mine. She is there to prevent vandalism, but she appears terminally bored standing there in the rain. Between her diminutive stature and advanced age, it's doubtful she could stop a ten year old let alone a determined vandal.

The headstone is nothing special. There used to be a bronze bust of Morrison resting on his marble marker, but it was stolen years ago and never replaced. They've cleaned up the graffiti and the adjacent graves all seem to be employing some sort of extra security measures to thwart the fans. They really pack the graves in here and there isn't much room to gawk.

Before long, we're joined by a young Irishman from Belfast. It's his birthday and he has chosen to spend it with the Lizard King...or at least what's left of him. The rain lets up and we talk while the guard keeps an eye on us. Our new friend is a big Doors fan and he takes our picture with our camera for a souvenir. I take his picture standing next to the gravestone and offer to send him a copy when we get home. For some reason, he's reluctant to share his information with us. Sparky later speculated that perhaps, he didn't have a computer. We rich Americans assume everyone has one or two at home like most Americans we know. I give him our email address and tell him to write. He seems interested in a copy of the photo of him at the grave, but we never hear from him. He tells us he's going to spend the day there standing in the rain communing with Morrison.

Ten minutes was good for me.

We never did see the large group of Americans again. They either gave up or were lost somewhere, wandering throughout the cemetery in search of Mr. Mojo Rising. They may still be there for all I know, soaked to the skin, condemned to wander through eternity searching for Morrison's final resting place.

I was ready to get out of the rain and have something to eat. We found a café by the Metro station, had lunch and dried out for a while. I ordered the basic $15 grilled cheese sandwich and Sparky had a salad. While I sipped my second Stella Artois, I looked through the rain at the cemetery walls and thought how bleak it looked, how confining a place to spend eternity.

Spread my ashes someplace without walls.

Abbey Road Studio

2010-08-20T00:09:00Z

By Martin H. Rots

If you were walking down the street and weren't paying attention, you might walk right past 3 Abbey Road without taking notice. If it weren't for the graffiti on the low wall separating the parking lot from the sidewalk there would be nothing to distinguish it from the other homes and businesses that surround the building. Abbey Road is lined with Georgian townhomes built in the early 19th century and the studios are housed in a white brick building that was built as a private residence in 1813. It was acquired by the Gramophone Company for use as a recording studio in 1931 and has been used for that purpose ever since.

Until the Beatles showed up, the only part in rock history that Abbey Road had played was it was used to record the first original English rock and roll tune in 1958 when Cliff Richards recorded Move It there. The Beatles began their professional recording career there in the fall of 1962. The studio had been used by EMI primarily, to record classical music. At first, the Beatles were out of place, but it wasn't long before they had their run of the facility.

During the course of their recording career, the Beatles seldom left the familar comfort of Abbey Road. Only Let It Be was recorded elsewhere. In the late sixties, the sidewalk in front of the building was often crowded with fans waiting for the four to show up for work. A smile and a wave from the steps by one of the boys would elicit shrieks from the fans and especially thrill the hardcore female Beatles' fans known as the Apple Scruffs.

It wasn't just the Beatles who worked in Abbey Road, though. Pink Floyd recorded all their early work there beginning with The Piper at the Gates of Dawn in 1967. It was recorded in the studio next to the Beatles who were working on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Pink Floyd recorded their classic Dark Side of the Moon there in 1973 and Wish You Were Here, their last effort at Abbey Road in 1975. Syd Barret recorded his solo efforts, The Madcap Laughs and Barret at Abbey Road after leaving Pink Floyd. One of my favorite, underappreciated, English bands, The Pretty Things, recorded the rock opera epic, S.F. Sorrow, there in 1968. Al Stewart used Abbey Road to record The Year of the Cat in 1976.

The sidewalk in front of the studio is fairly deserted these days. There are no longer Apple Scruffs waiting for a glimpse of one of the Beatles. The pedestrian crossing from the album cover has been moved from where it was the day of the famous album cover photo. Even though the studio is still in great demand by contemporary artists, it's not the same as when the "boys" were working late into the night there creating the masterpieces that still endure today

In those days, the toilet paper was marked, "Property of EMI" to keep the employees from taking it home. Maybe they should have paid them well enough that they didn't have to steal toilet paper. The Beatles often went to the rooftop to smoke pot and take a break from the grind of recording. George Martin once took John Lennon to the roof unaware that fresh air wasn't going to calm the anxiety he felt from taking LSD. Luckily, nothing tragic happened that night. Lennon wasn't moved to find out if he could fly across the London rooftops.

It's fun to stand there on the sidewalk and imagine what had occurred in the building over the years, all the people who had walked through that door into the studio and the music they made. John Lennon, George Harrison and Syd Barret aren't with us anymore, but their music is and it will endure longer than any of us.

Sparky and I had our picture taken crossing the street just as the Beatles had all those years ago. I'm pretty sure it won't appear on an album cover. We stared at the building for a moment imagining all that had happened in EMI Studio One. You can feel the vibe from the sidewalk. It was easy to fantasize that the Fab Four were still inside, creating their next masterpiece. Before long it was time to get back on the Rock and Roll Tour bus and head for our next stop, Paul McCartney's Cavendish Avenue home, conveniently located only a few blocks away from the studio.

To learn more:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbey_Road_Studios#Recordings_Made_at_Abbey_Road_Studios

http://www.abbeyroad.co.uk/

The Beatles Recording Sessions by Mark Lewison

If you're going to be in London, I highly recommend this London Rock Tour:

http://www.theworldisyouroyster.com/london/beatles_tour.htm