Two RIP's

I've got two wonderful innovators to add to the GNABB cemetery.

RIP John Glenn, 1921-2016

I know it’s a cliché, but do they make men like this anymore? I mean seriously. John Glenn was such of a different era, a different America. An America that was full of hope, that looked to the future, that was rising so fast that it broke the bonds of gravity and the earth. True, America wasn’t so rosy for many people during the Cold War era. Segregation still existed. I’m not downplaying that at all. But John Glenn and his fellow astronauts represented the best of what we were then. Duty, brains, work ethic, dreamer but with the technical know-how to actually reach those impossible dreams as the rest of the world watched slack-jawed. (I know the Soviets kept up and actually led for a little while, but that didn't last).

There was something extra special about the Mercury astronauts to me. Even more than the Apollo missions, as great as they were, these seven astronauts (and Glenn was the last of them, so they are all a memory now) were true pioneers. Talk about calm under pressure, John Glenn was the most celebrated of them all. It takes a special kind of man to sit on top of a missile that has a decent chance of blowing up at ignition. The re-entry drama and Glenn’s cool response during his history making first American to orbit the earth mission is the stuff of legend. He showed that no matter how technically advanced we think we are, sometimes it still takes the human instincts and decision-making of a pilot to get the ship down.

I know a big part of my romanticizing the Mercury program comes from one of my favorite movies of all time, The Right Stuff. Glenn was played pitch perfectly by the great Ed Harris. Maybe I need to pop that in tonight, and bask in a bygone age when the sky wasn’t the limit. John Glenn and the other six Mercury astronauts showed us that we could dare to go beyond the sky. Our moon landing, our eventual trip to Mars, even our eventual eventual colonizing and moving off the earth once we have destroyed it beyond repair…the foundation of all of that was John Glenn…and Alan Sheppard, Gus Grissom, Gordon Cooper, Wally Shirra, Deke Slayton and Scott Carpenter.

So not only RIP John Glenn. I can now say RIP The Mercury Seven. And thank you all for showing us what we can be and accomplish.

And...

RIP Greg Lake, 1947-2016

Man, 2016 has been a deadly year for music. As well-known and respected as Greg Lake was, I always felt that he could have done more. He sang and played bass on the groundbreaking King Crimson debut In the Court of the Crimson King (and sang on the follow-up), but then left the band to form Emerson, Lake and Palmer. As a massive Crimson fan, I have always felt that was a lost opportunity. It would have been fantastic to get two or three more records with Lake and Robert Fripp working together under the Crimson banner before moving on.

I could never get into ELP very much. I do love me some prog rock, but ELP has aged terribly. My favorite ELP tunes are the more down to earth folky Greg Lake numbers like “Lucky Man” and “Still You Turn Me On.”

Regardless of his career choices, the man was hugely talented. Great and expressive singer, virtuoso on the electric bass, and a good guitarist too. RIP Greg Lake.

RIP Joe Jett, 1939-2016

There are certain people in your life that you respect, love, look up to more than others. For me, my own father is number one, just based on what he accomplished considering where he came from, what he provided for me and my family, etc. But my uncle was a close second. Especially when I was young, my father and my uncle (they were in-laws, not brothers) provided a great yin and yang for me to combine the best qualities of both and get a pretty good model for respectable manhood. As I have grown older, I have come to recognize weaknesses in both men (just as I have recognized weaknesses in myself), but when you are younger you don’t see the weaknesses as much. You just see the greatness, the model of what kind of man you want to become. And that is probably as it should be, because when you are young you want/need clear, uncomplicated models to aspire to. There is plenty of time for complexity and nuance later in life.

My father and my uncle were very different men in many respects, which is why together they provided me with such a complete picture to pull from. Whereas my Dad was an athlete (even played minor league baseball), my uncle was an outdoorsman. There is a difference. (I chuckle at the prospect of handing my father a tent and camping supplies and sending him off into the woods). I was never an athlete, so my father and I never bonded over sports as he did with my older siblings, but I do enjoy the outdoors a great deal. Some of my more vivid childhood memories are of a couple of weekends where I stayed with my uncle and aunt up at Lake Conroe, and he’d wake me up before the sun was up and take me fishing out on the lake (well, usually just the marina, but it was still cool). Or the time he took me for a ride around the Woodlands area north of Houston on the back of his motorcycle. (Again, my Dad on a motorcycle? Ha!) So, it was cool growing up getting experiences with my uncle that I otherwise would not have gotten.

About a decade ago or more, I decided to conduct, record and transcribe some family interviews. I did my mother, father and uncle (I regret not interviewing my mother’s sister before her death, that would have been a fascinating interview. I remember I asked her, and she tentatively agreed, but then we never got to it). My uncle’s interview was especially fun, as he had a tendency to ramble off on tangents and alleyways of memory, or he’d be telling a story of his youth and then if the weather was a factor in the story he would veer off and give you theories of weather patterns in Southeast Texas and never return to the original story. Anyway, it is a fun read and really does preserve what a conversation with my uncle was like. All of the interviews were great, but where my mother was a bit guarded, my dad was conversational on many topics but also didn’t really want to delve too much into some areas, my uncle’s interview was wide open. I remember when we started, he told me the only topic he did not want to discuss was the death of his oldest son. My cousin died in his teens from leukemia. Of course, once he got talking he spoke of my cousin at length, including his death. Reading it now, I think that out of all of the interviews I conducted, his is the most authentic. The most like really just sitting down with him and shooting the sh*t, but also getting his story down.

Two recent memories I will keep with me. Back in the fall of last year, a family member died and so I drove into Houston to attend her funeral. I went to my uncle’s house and we went to the service together. Fortunately, I came in early, so we had some time to hang out at his place. In hindsight, this was only a couple months before he got sick. What a great afternoon. He warmed some bar-b-q in the oven, and we sat down and talked. He showed me his guitars and let me play an especially nice Gibson for which he had rebuilt the neck (he left me that guitar, by the way, which makes me happy beyond words). We left his house early, so he drove me around parts of Houston I’ve never explored, even though I grew up there. He drove me by the house where he, my mother, and my aunt grew up. He told me stories of growing up on that street, who had lived in other houses on that same street. It was a perfect time capsule moment, Houston of another era.

And then there was about a month ago. The extended family was informed by our cousins that my uncle was in pretty bad shape. Cancer and other complications. He was in a “recovery center.” I discussed with my cousin visiting him, and my cousin thought that would be good. I showed up and he was dozing off, but woke up and asked who was there. He was quite shocked to see me, apparently my cousin had not told him I was coming. At the time I was a little irritated that my cousin hadn’t mentioned me coming, I felt uncomfortable surprising him like that, but in hindsight I think it was on purpose. Later, my mother and sister were planning a visit, and my uncle talked them out of coming. My cousin probably knew he’d do the same with me, which is probably why he gave me all of the info I needed to see him, yet did not tell him I was coming. Thanks, Sam, I will be forever grateful.

We spent one hour together. He was indeed in terrible shape. My uncle had smoked heavily most of his life. He had quit smoking five or six years ago, but the damage was already done. One of the first things he said was “well, the smoking finally got me.” He had lost a lot of weight (my cousin said he weighed less than 100 pounds when he died). His cough sounded horrible. But, we talked, we visited, we were just together for an hour. He, of course, reminisced about the old days, like he always did. We talked about family, both gone and still around.

While I was there a Catholic deacon (layperson) came by to give my uncle communion. Having recently come to serious faith myself, I was pleased to see that after many decades, my uncle’s lapsed, dormant Catholicism was again active. I guess nearing your end does that. There was a funny exchange, where I was asked if I wanted to also take communion, but once I revealed that I was Lutheran, both the deacon and I agreed I should sit on the sidelines and pray with them, but not take communion. Catholics and Lutherans don’t do sacraments together (after all, we were the original rebels in the Reformation). Typically, right in the middle of this solemn sacrament, my uncle’s curiosity was piqued and he started asking me about Lutheranism, and how it differs from Catholicism, and then he talked about how he recently did confession for the first time in about 40 years and how it took a long time to discuss all of his sins…but anyway, it was a beautiful thing to watch him take some comfort in God’s Grace and the sacraments of his youth so ingrained into his being. After the actual sacrament, I did come over, hold hands with my uncle, and the three of us recited the Lord’s Prayer together. That was special, it was an emotional moment for us both, I actually saw him tear up. I had never prayed with him before.

One other thing struck me. When I first walked in, he was asleep but he had headphones on and a portable DVD player in his lap. My uncle loved movies, he would always talk about recent films he had seen. There was something, I can’t put my finger on it and I don’t know how to describe it. But something incredibly sad about the condition he was in at this point (and let’s be honest, this could be my or your end as well), to where the smallest things become life preservers. He was holding tightly to his DVD player and this little bin filled with DVDs like these were saving his life, like they were the last sustenance on earth. It was not unlike a frightened child clinging to a stuffed animal or blankie in the dark night. I mean, he was clutching them tightly. And at that point, they probably were his most important possession. A way to be transported away from his pain and, well, dying. He talked excitedly about a particular movie he was watching before I had walked in and before he had dozed off. Gave me the plot points, the actors. It made such an impression on me, just how important that little thing, a DVD player and some movies, were to him at that point.

I could tell he was getting tired, so we said goodbye. I knew that was probably the last time I would ever see him. We embraced for a long while, told each other that we loved one another. And that was it.

So, godspeed Uncle Joe on your new journey. We will miss you.

RIP Uncle Joe

RIP Prince, 1958-2016

I'm sure a lot of you have seen this, but this has to be the greatest performance at a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Prince and George Harrison (as a solo artist) were inducted in the same year, and this is one of those All Star jams during the ceremony. Harrison was already dead by his induction, so this is a tribute performance of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." Many of the usual suspects are there, like Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne, etc. It is a nice but unremarkable performance until about 3:30, when Prince tears into his guitar solo. On a totally different plane of existence from these other guys. And you can tell he knows it. He isn't usually associated with classic rock, but it is like he is saying, "if I feel like it, I can do this better than any of you." He is having so much fun. Notice the look of surprise and awe on Dhani Harrison's face at about 4:48 (Dhani is George's son, can't you tell?) The best part may be the end. He tosses the guitar to the heavens (where the hell does it go??) and struts off the stage while the other guys are still on the last chord. Like "yeah, bitches!" I read an interview with Dhani Harrison that was great, talking about this performance. Harrison said that he wasn't too excited about Prince performing on the song, he just wasn't that familiar with his music beyond hits like "Kiss," and didn't think he would fit in musically. These other guys had been friends of his Dad's, Dhani had grown up knowing them, etc. Also, at rehearsal Prince didn't show his cards, he played a rather routine solo. Harrison said that he ran around frantically backstage looking for Prince after the performance, shouting wildly "where's Prince! Where's Prince!" Apparently when Prince strutted off the stage, he never stopped and just walked out of the building into the night without saying a word to anyone.

RIP Scalia, 1936-2016

Couldn't you have hung on until next January? That would have been much better. None of us get to choose the time of our departure, I guess. My wife and I were at a yoga class (the second one I have ever attended - the things we do to please our spouse for Valentine's Day), and just before we started I glanced at my phone and saw that Antonin Scalia had died. I have to admit I was rocked pretty hard by this one.

For one, Scalia made law school bearable. Whether you agreed with him or not (and I often did), his decisions were a joy to read. You don't hear that much when referring to the writing in Supreme Court decisions. But Scalia possessed both a razor mind and a razor pen. And he was by far the most powerful Justice on the Supreme Court for decades, because Scalia got two votes whereas the other Justices just got one vote. (I am, of course, referring to Clarence Thomas, who almost always voted with Scalia and would often just sign on to Scalia's decisions vs. writing his own).

ABOVE: What is Clarence "yeah, what he said" Thomas going to do now that Scalia is gone? Think for himself?

On a more serious note, I'm not sure what to think of the Republican Senate standoff with Obama on appointing Scalia's replacement. This rhetoric of "let the people decide" (as in, wait until after the election so the people can weigh in on the direction of the replacement) is crap. That is not in the Constitution, as Scalia himself would probably point out. And the people did weigh in. Obama was re-elected.

I think what should happen is that Obama fulfills his Constitutional duty and nominates someone, and the Republicans in the Senate give him or her their due hearing and then most likely vote them down. Drag it out until the election, and then let the next president pick someone. That seems better than refusing to even hold a hearing without even having a nominee yet. At least go through the motions. This holdout could be worse for the Republicans in an election year than just having some contentious hearings and then voting "no."

Do I think the Democrats would do the same thing if it were reversed? Of course. In fact, both Chuck Schumer and Harry Reid have statements exactly to that effect from back in the waning days of George W. Bush's presidency. I wouldn't agree with them doing it either (and you know if this were the democrats doing this, talk radio-world would be raising a sh*tstorm about the dems circumventing the Constitution, etc.)

Our Founders certainly intended for the president to nominate someone and then for the Senate to advise the president on that nominee and then consent or not. I don't think they meant "advise and consent" to mean "No. It doesn't matter who you nominate. We'll just leave the seat vacant for a year."

Anyway, Scalia was quite simply one of the greatest minds we have ever had on the Court. A giant. I leave you with the ever quotable Antonin Scalia...

“Never compromise your principles, unless of course your principles are Adolf Hitler’s, in which case you would be well advised to compromise them as much as you can.”

“More important than your obligation to follow your conscience, or at least prior to it, is your obligation to form your conscience correctly.”

“A Constitution is not meant to facilitate change. It is meant to impede change, to make it difficult to change.”

“This Court, however, concludes that this limitation would prevent the rest of the Act from working as well as hoped. So it rewrites the law to make tax credits available everywhere. We should start calling this law SCOTUScare.”

“A man who has made no enemies is probably not a very good man.”

"A Bill of Rights that means what the majority wants it to mean is worthless."

"That’s the argument of flexibility and it goes something like this: The Constitution is over 200 years old and societies change. It has to change with society, like a living organism, or it will become brittle and break. But you would have to be an idiot to believe that. The Constitution is not a living organism, it is a legal document. It says something and doesn’t say other things."

"You’re looking at me as though I’m weird. My God! Are you so out of touch with most of America, most of which believes in the devil? I mean, Jesus Christ believed in the devil! It’s in the Gospels! You travel in circles that are so, so removed from mainstream America that you are appalled that anybody would believe in the devil! Most of mankind has believed in the devil, for all of history. Many more intelligent people than you or me have believed in the devil."

"To pursue the concept of racial entitlement–even for the most admirable and benign of purposes–is to reinforce and preserve for future mischief the way of thinking that produced race slavery, race privilege and race hatred. In the eyes of government, we are just one race here. It is American."

"Undoubtedly some think that the Second Amendment is outmoded in a society where our standing army is the pride of our Nation, where well-trained police forces provide personal security, and where gun violence is a serious problem. That is perhaps debatable, but what is not debatable is that it is not the role of this Court to pronounce the Second Amendment extinct."

"Bear in mind that brains and learning, like muscle and physical skill, are articles of commerce. They are bought and sold. You can hire them by the year or by the hour. The only thing in the world not for sale is character."

"God assumed from the beginning that the wise of the world would view Christians as fools…and He has not been disappointed. Devout Christians are destined to be regarded as fools in modern society. We are fools for Christ’s sake. We must pray for courage to endure the scorn of the sophisticated world. If I have brought any message today, it is this: Have the courage to have your wisdom regarded as stupidity. Be fools for Christ. And have the courage to suffer the contempt of the sophisticated world."

"If, even as the price to be paid for a fifth vote, I ever joined an opinion for the Court that began: ‘The Constitution promises liberty to all within its reach, a liberty that includes certain specific rights that allow persons, within a lawful realm, to define and express their identity,’ I would hide my head in a bag. The Supreme Court of the United States has descended from the disciplined legal reasoning of John Marshall and Joseph Story to the mystical aphorisms of the fortune cookie."

RIP David Bowie, 1947-2016 and a Review of 'Blackstar,' 2016

David Bowie managed to turn even his death into an artistic act. He last toured in 2003, when he had to cut the Reality tour short due to health issues. He subsequently disappeared from the music scene until 2012’s surprise release of a new record. That record (The Next Day) was good, but not great. Critics and fans were just happy that he was making music again. January 8th of this year he released what we now know was his final record, the daring Blackstar. Bowie then died two days later. He had kept his 18 month struggle with liver cancer a secret from the public (and even many of his close associaties, apparently), so the excitement of a new Bowie record was followed by shock, as most fans like myself were looking forward to yet another career renaissance. He knew that this would be his last record, so a close listen to the lyrics and themes take on new importance with Blackstar. It seems rare (I can’t think of any parallels) that a musical artist gets to make a record knowing that this is his last chance to say what he wants to say. It is probably even rarer that it is done so successfully and so gracefully.

I probably don’t need to write the standard obituary for David Bowie here, as most of you know the important touchstones. If I had a dollar for every time he was called a “chameleon” in a review or article, I would have no need to buy any Powerball tickets. But, the name fits. Bowie was on the vanguard of many different musical trends in his almost five decades in music (I think the mid-80’s through the 90’s was probably the only period where he was more a follower of trends than leader, although even then he still made some worthwhile music). For many artists, Bowie was more influential on them than The Beatles. Duran Duran said that was the case for them.

Bowie is one of the few artists where you can become obsessed with various periods of his career. Most artists would be lucky to have an entire career worthy of fan obsession, but you can dive into Bowie’s glam period, or his Berlin Trilogy, or his pop excursions, or his work in electronic music…and be rewarded just focusing on one of those periods.

Something else rare was that through the vast majority of his career (maybe except for the late 80’s), Bowie was always cool. You never had to apologize for being a Bowie fan. Even when he was in his 50’s, he was making music that younger generations of musicians and fans were following. He knew how to manage his image masterfully. He even knew when (and how) to disappear.

I got onboard with 1983’s Let’s Dance. Blame my age, it was when I was becoming aware of pop music. I still love that record, although by many it is seen as one of his more uncool, least experimental efforts. The five core songs on it (title track, “Modern Love,” “China Girl,” “Cat People,” and “Criminal World”) still stand up as fantastic, varied pop/rock songs in my book. (Also fun that a very out of place Stevie Ray Vaughan plays on them). It was Bowie's commercial peak, which may explain the lack of critical fawning for the album. But the same guy who made Let’s Dance made 1977’s krautrock-loving experimental masterpiece Low? Or the glam touchstone The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars? Or quirky folk of Hunky Dory? Or the plastic soul of Young Americans? Or the electronic-drenched Earthling? Yep. Same guy. Or how about releasing Low and ‘Heroes,’ two unquestionable masterpieces, in the same freaking year?!

And with Bowie it was never clear how much of it was sincere or how much of it was a put-on. “It” being whatever genre he happened to be creating or revolutionizing or diving into at the time. To some that has been a turn-off. But I think a certain distance Bowie kept from whatever world he was exploring also allowed him to quickly move on to other exciting musical planets without lingering for too long in one place.

My favorite period? Probably the Berlin Trilogy (especially if you can extend it to the one record previous and the one right after to make it five records: Station to Station, Low, ‘Heroes,’ Lodger, and Scary Monsters).

Anyway, I could go on about remembering Bowie, but I want to talk about his final record, Blackstar. I loved it when I heard it on the day it was released. But his death makes it more significant than just the next Bowie record. It is the last Bowie record. (Although I have no doubt the vaults will be raided for some posthumous releases).

He put together a new band for this last record. Mostly they were young jazz players, and Donny McCaslin’s exciting saxophone playing is all over it. It is a return to his more experimental tendencies, doggedly uncommercial (the title track was released as the first single, and it is ten minutes long, a complex labyrinth of sounds that still holds together, but obviously much too complex and lengthy for radio). Longtime Bowie producer Tony Visconti stated that the band were unaware of Bowie’s declining health as they were recording, but that Bowie always intended this record to be his swansong, his “parting gift” to his fans. What a rich gift it is. Knowing it to be his last, he had no reason to compromise at all for commercial considerations. No tour to plan. No follow-up to set up or work on. This was it. Some might fold under that type of pressure (how do you cap off a career spanning four decades? While knowing you are dying while doing it?) But it is also liberating, I imagine.

ABOVE: Check out Bowie's fascinating video for the title track to his new record, "Blackstar"

These lyrics, while typically not exactly straightfoward, contemplate his mortality, saying goodbye and his legacy. The gorgeous Cure-like dirge “Lazarus”: “Look up here, I’m in heaven / Got scars that can’t be seen / I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen / Everybody knows me now” and “just like that bluebird / oh, I’ll be free / Ain’t that just like me.” Or from “Dollar Days”: “If I never see the English evergreens I’m running to / It’s nothing to me” and “Don’t believe for just one second I’m forgetting you / I’m trying to, I’m dying to” (or is it “too”?) What a lovely goodbye the final two tracks are, where “Dollar Days” and “I Can’t Give Everything Away” segue together. Both are lush, flowing ballads, and the repeated refrain of the last song – “I can’t give everything / I can’t give everything / Away” – could stand as the epitaph for his entire career. Bowie produced thrilling, daring, yet still accessible music, but there was always a bit of mystery, a bit of the opaque. As much as he gave to his music and fans, he still held something back. That for some reason made it even more intriguing. By the way, that is not to say that it is all moody. "Sue (or a Season of Crime)" and "'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore" rock out a bit.

As a final gift, a final artistic statement where he incorporated his own death into the work (and it must be added that the final two videos for "Blackstar" and "Lazarus" are essential for the entire package as well)…I can’t think of a more enigmatic yet satisfying, from an artistic perspective, way to bow out. I read a great article recently on Bowie’s passing where the author said, only slightly tongue in cheek and I’m paraphrasing, “I can say that the human race was fortunate to share the planet at the same time that Bowie was here.” RIP David Bowie.

Blackstar: **** out of *****

RIP Chris Squire, 1948-2015

June 27th from henceforth shall be National Bass Player Memorial Day, a day to remember the fallen men (and women) who anchor rock bands. John Entwistle, the great bassist for The Who, died on June 27th in 2002. Thirteen years later to the day we lost Chris Squire, co-founder of progressive rock gods Yes. What are the odds? (Well, I guess 1 out of 365). Anyway, Squire was one of the true greats of the four string. One of the few rock bassists who turned his intrument into a lead instrument, soloing along with the guitar vs. just keeping the bottom. He also did that too, by the way. That is why musicians like Squire, Entwistle, Jack Bruce, Paul McCartney and even Sting in the Police days are so much more impressive to me that a flashy lead guitar player. They've got the flash and step out and solo, yet also perform the crucial duties of the traditional bass player. And they do it on thicker strings that are less forgiving and with fewer options to use on their musical canvas.

Any listener of Yes' music knows the importance of Squire to their sound. The obituaries have all rightly pointed out that Squire is the only member of that band to play on every single studio record, from their debut in 1968 to last year's release. Squire not only played bass, he also co-wrote many of their songs and sang the wonderful harmony vocals that were so important to the Yes sound (and not talked about enough). He was the lynchpin of the Yes universe.

But going back to that bass playing. Along with probably Entwistle and Bruce, Squire took bass playing further than anyone else in rock, post-McCartney. He would often play with a distorted, overdrive sound that made it more like a guitar at times, allowing it to stand out while soloing.

BELOW: This is one of Squire's signature tunes with Yes, "The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus)." Other than the drums and some vocalizing near the end, every sound comes from Squire's basses. Turn it up and really listen, you can hear some great, overlapping bass tracks that create the whole piece.

RIP Sir Christopher Lee, 1922-2015

Imposing figure, impossibly cool and cunning. Count Dracula. Count Dooku. Saruman. Francisco Scaramanga. Lord Summerisle. If I were a film producer between the 1950's and 2015, and I wanted to cast an unforgettable villain (and depending on the age requirements of the character), the first words out of my mouth would have been: "get me Christopher Lee." Along with partner in horror Peter Cushing, Lee helped to usher in a new generation of horror film with Hammer Horror films between the late 50's and mid-70's. He re-introduced classic horror characters to a new generation, playing both Count Dracula and Frankenstein's monster in exploitation color, sex and violence, more fitting for the times. He hardly has any lines and limited screen time in 1958's 'Dracula,' but he needed neither to make his impact.

Lee starred in hundreds of films, but he is on record stating that he thinks his best was the moody British horror film, 'The Wicker Man' (1973), playing cult leader Lord Summerisle. His presence could lift even the most B-movie level material, of which he appeared in many but always maintained a bemused attitude towards. He appeared in one of the worst Bond films ('The Man With the Golden Gun'), yet still played one of the few villains in the entire series that was Bond's true equal in deadly skill (as the million dollar assassin, Scaramanga). It is sad that such a great actor and character were wasted on that film, imagine what they could have done if it had been one of the better Bond films. Modern filmgoers recognize Lee for his performances in the 'Star Wars' prequels and the 'Lord of the Rings' films. As a true renaissance man, he even recorded some heavy metal albums in recent years, recieving a Hammer Metal Golden Gods award in 2010 for his album, Charlemagne: By the Sword and the Cross!

ABOVE: Christopher Lee, metal god?

He played villainous and atrocious characters, but you always assumed the man himself was anything but. And you would be correct. At 6'5", he literally towered over those around him. He did a lot of work for charity, and his World War II service is pretty fascinating as well. He served in Finland, then in the RAF, then conducted subtantial intelligence work throughout Africa. After that he served in Italy, and finally worked hunting down Nazi war criminals before retiring from the military and turning to an acting career.

Below is a rogue's gallery of Lee's most memorable roles...

ABOVE: Bringing Dracula to the sex, drugs and rock and roll generation

ABOVE: As assassin Francisco Scaramanga in the Bond film, 'The Man With the Golden Gun.' Is it really believable that Roger Moore kicked Christopher Lee's ass? No.

ABOVE: As the insane cult leader Lord Summerisle in the British cult horror classic, 'The Wicker Man.' Lee felt this was his best film from the hundreds that he starred in.

ABOVE: In the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy as Saruman, a role originally offered to Sean Connery

ABOVE: Lee as the evil Jedi Count Dooku in two of the 'Star Wars' prequels. As was often the case, Lee was above the material.

RIP Sir Christopher Lee.

RIP B.B. King, 1925-2015

One of the very last of his generation of blues masters, B.B. King was one of the few blues artists who transcended the genre and was a part of the mainstream popular consciousness.

Riley King’s (“B.B.” stands for “Blues Boy,” the moniker he took as a DJ on a Memphis radio station) early life followed the template of many of the blues greats. Born in the rural South (in his case, Mississippi), he worked in the cotton fields and learned to play blues guitar from a musician uncle. He honed his skills playing on street corners, and eventually made his Great Migration up to Memphis, Tennessee. There he continued to hone his craft and also got a gig as a DJ on a local rhythm and blues radio station.

King is famous for his deceptively simple, stinging, single note soloing style. There is that legendary scene from U2’s ‘Rattle and Hum’ film where the band is collaborating with King on “When Love Comes To Town.” U2’s guitarist Edge is trying to show King the chords for the song, and King replies, “oh, I don’t play no chords,” and Edge just stares at him for a moment, incredulous. The guy didn’t have to “play no chords.” You can hire people to do that for you. It sounds like such a cliché, but with King it is so true: he said so much more by playing less. It was a stinging, stabbing tone that had such a flow to it. Guitar players who play more notes and much faster than King cannot approach his expressiveness and placement. Placement both as to which notes he chooses to place where, but also placement within the rhythm of the song. Add to that his at times smooth, at other times explosive vocal style, and it was a unique one-two punch.

The tone he got from his successive guitars that he dubbed “Lucille” was such a fat, full, beautiful tone. (The best descendant of both the tone and style would be Robert Cray). How he named his guitar Lucille is an oft-told tale, but a great one. He was playing a gig at a club in Arkansas, and a fight broke out. Two men were fighting and knocked over a heater that started a fire, and the crowd and musicians ran out of the club. Realizing he had left his guitar inside, King risked his life to dash back into the burning building to save his prized axe. Later he found out the two men had been fighting over a woman named Lucille, hence the moniker for his guitars ever since.

What I really loved about King’s music, and what I think separated him from some of the other legendary blues artists of his generation and from similar backgrounds (Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, etc.) was his restrained sophistication. King could play with fire on traditional blues of course (“Sweet Little Angel,” for example), but there was often something more, I don’t know, uptown about his style. Whereas with these other guys, the grittier and tougher the sound the better, my favorite B.B. King songs are the ones where he tries to add a sophisticated pop sheen to them, often with strings. Accoutrements that when used by other blues artists dilute their strengths, for some reason brought out the best in King. Songs like “Hummingbird,” “Ain’t Nobody Home,” “Help the Poor,” “Ghetto Woman” and of course his signature song “The Thrill Is Gone,” are King at his best in my view.

RIP Mr. Spock, 2230-2387?

We recently lost one of the true giants of science, space exploration, interstellar diplomacy and pithy observations of human behavior. The logic to counterbalance Bones McCoy's passions, he was the yin for Bones' yang, helping to make Kirk a more complete Captain. But he was much more. As a half human, half Vulcan, Mr. Spock was the ultimate outsider who made himself essential to those around him. By not fitting in with either of his cultures, he was able to stand outside of them and understand them better than they sometimes understood themselves. Spock refused to deny his human side and become the fully logical Vulcan, but he was able to suppress his emotions when it was crucial to the Enterprise's survival as Kirk spoke in dramatic pauses. Yet he shed a tear for V'Ger.

Spock was born to Vulcan diplomat Sarek and human school teacher Amanda Grayson. Spock blazed new trails early, being the first Vulcan to join Starfleet. This decision did not sit well with his father, however, and relations were strained between father and son for many years to follow. Spock first served under Captain Christopher Pike (along with his future captain, James Tiberius Kirk). By 2265, Spock had risen to the the rank of Lieutenant Commander, first officer and science officer on the U.S.S. Enterprise under Kirk for a five year mission. After the mission's completion, during which he saved Kirk and the Enterprise crew's collective ass many times, he returned to Vulcan to purge all emotions, but the presence of V'Ger spurred Spock to return to service on the Enterprise.

Perhaps most impressive of his many feats was sacrificing his life in order to repair plasma conduits (despite Scotty's hysterical objections), allowing the Enterprise to escape the detonation of the Genesis Device by the evil but sexy Ricardo Montalban. Just to screw with him, Spock chose Bones of all people to transfer his katra through one hell of a mind-meld. But no worries, because Spock actually CAME BACK TO LIFE due to regeneration on the new Genesis planet (it also may be related to the fact that some earthling named Leonard Nimoy was offered lots of money and a chance to direct Star Trek III and IV. I'm not sure if that has anything to do with Spock's sudden regeneration or not. Perhaps it was just coincidence.)

Anyway, Spock's later accomplishments were more in the field of diplomacy, where he negotiated a peace accord with the Klingons, and later attempted to make peace between the Vulcans and the Romulans. Mr. Spock was also a master three dimensional chess player, as well as an accomplished musician.

Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock. Live long and prosper.

ABOVE: Earth nation Canada has apparently honored Mr. Spock by placing him on their five pound note

RIP Joe Cocker, 1944-2014

I know this is a little late, but Joe inconvenienced us by dying over the holidays. At any rate, a gifted, one of a kind singer and performer. I think what kept him from reaching the top tier of rockers of his generation is that he did not write his own material, instead depending on other songwriters, from legends (Beatles, Randy Newman, Ray Charles) to hacks. He was more a spirited interpreter than musical visionary. But at his best, he was an awesome force of nature.

BELOW: Here is the clip that most people associate with Cocker, but it is still remarkable to watch, both for its passionate performance and his spastic gyrations. Cocker at Woodstock...



BELOW: You've got to watch this one now. It is John Belushi doing his famous Joe Cocker impression. It is remarkable for different reasons. Not only does Belushi take on Cocker's vocals and mannerisms, he also lampoons Cocker's famous drug and alcohol problems. Something Belushi himself knew a lot about. (Unlike Cocker, Belushi was a brilliantly visionary artist). It is cruel, hilarious and brilliant. I believe Paul Jacobs is playing the role of the pompous Leon Russell, who served as Cocker's onstage musical director through part of the 70's. He does a fantastic job doing Russell. Watch the whole thing, it is brilliant.



BELOW: And to show that Cocker had a sense of humor, here's a short clip showing Cocker and Belushi sharing the stage. Who is more Cocker?

RIP Jack Bruce, 1943-2014

It should tell you something that although the rock power trio Cream featured Eric Clapton, he was not the most interesting (or arguably even the most overall talented) member of that trio. Jack Bruce-singer, bassist, composer-was. Although Cream was shortlived (1966-68) they had a huge impact. It was three virtuosos, all, sometimes with musical violence, fighting for attention. At times, especially in the live setting, that made for overindulgence and chaos. But when it clicked, it was incredibly exciting and visceral listening. Clapton is Clapton, and this was his guitar god period where he wasn't afraid to be a bad-ass. Ginger Baker on drums was a virtuoso as well, but listen closely to many of Cream's songs, and you will hear the bass guitar acting as a second lead instrument along with Clapton's more obvious guitar, flying with the same speed and creative fire. But on a bass, which is harder to do. (One of the best examples is on the live "Crossroads" from Wheels of Fire, which is one of Clapton's finest moments as a guitarist. Clapton also sings lead on that one. But listen closely, underneath Clapton's guitar fireworks, what Jack Bruce is doing is just incredible.) Bruce was one of the all time great rock bassists (up there with John Entwistle, Chris Squier or Sting), acknowledged by many of his peers as a four string deity. He had jazz chops, really, playing with a fluid style, often on a fretless bass. He was also behind many of Cream's hits as a songwriter, and sang most of their tunes as well.

For most casual classic rock listeners Jack Bruce's story ends with Cream. But he went on to release many challenging, daring solo records (and was working right up to Spring of this year). If you are at all curious, his Songs For a Tailor (1969) ***** and Harmony Row (1971) **** are superb and worth searching out, revelations to listeners only familiar with "Sunshine of Your Love" or "White Room." In my book, they are more adventurous than anything Clapton put out post-Cream.


ABOVE; "Crossroads" by Cream. Listen to all three musicians here, but especially Jack Bruce's bass.

RIP Jack Bruce.

Wasted Talent, or RIP Robin Williams, 1951-2014

I was recently thinking about a possible post regarding talented people whose work I, for the most part, despise. Despise more than the work of untalented people. Untalented people can't help it, they do what they can. But it is the person who actually has gifts but then wastes them on crap that really gets my blood up. My case study was going to be Billy Joel, but the suicide of Robin Williams changed my focus.

It may be hard to recall, especially if you are young, just how talented Robin Williams was. Go back to the late 70's, into the 80's. As a fast thinking, fast talking stand up comic, his rabbit holes could be works of art. He could improv most anyone else into dust.

But you must look ultimately to his filmography to judge his legacy. That is how most people know him. How underwhelming much of that filmography is. Even though his range was truly impressive (he trained at Julliard), there is crap in every genre he worked in. Low rent comedies like The Survivors and Best of Times. Bad kids movies abound, like Hook and Flubber and Toys. His serious roles are also of inconsistent quality. Often built on sappy sentiment and cheap emotional ploys, films like Dead Poet's Society definitely have their fanbase but that fanbase is easily mainipulated emotionally. It gets worse with What Dreams May Come. Of course, there is the Marianas Trench of sappy films, Patch Adams, which was absolutely criminal in its badness.

ABOVE: The Bearded Movies. Often when Williams sported a beard, you knew it was a serious role. Good Will Hunting and Awakenings are the prime examples.

But let's stop speaking ill of the man's work. It wasn't all bad. Mrs. Doubtfire, while not sophisticated comedy by any means, had real heart and real laughs too, while remaining a family friendly film. He brought incredible life to the genie in Aladdin. Same with the wartime DJ in Good Morning, Vietnam. My favorite role of his was very much against type. He played the psychopathic killer opposite Al Pacino's troubled cop in Insomnia. Mrs. Doubtfire vs. Michael Corleone doesn't sound like much of a fight, but Williams surprised all by being a formidable adversary to Pacino. Most impressively, he did it without using his manic, bombastic persona, which most would consider the most potent weapon in his arsenal. It was all reserve and holding back. In fact, that is what made him so creepy. He did something similar in One Hour Photo. Why didn't he do more of these type of roles? I don't know. He was very, very good at them and had a real gift in that genre. Perhaps in light of his personal troubles, these troubled dark characters hit too close to home? I don't know.

ABOVE: Pacino and Williams face off in the excellent thriller, Insomnia

At any rate, it is a sad end to an iconic career. By all accounts, he was a generous man who was much loved by colleagues and friends and family. He was key in organizing the charitable Comic Relief that raised so much money and awareness to battle homelessness. By the numbers, his career was incredibly successful. I just think that artistically, it could have been so much more. RIP Robin Williams.

RIP Bobby Womack, 1944-2014

I always felt that Bobby Womack should have been in the upper echelon of soul artists. He was definitely respected, but never the household name of a James Brown or Marvin Gaye. He stood out to me for a couple of reasons. His gruff voice was arresting and immediately recognizeable. Secondly he was a great songwriter too. As great as many of the soul legends are, many of them left the songwriting to others. In fact, Womack may be most famous for writing the Rolling Stones' first number one single, "It's All Over Now." To their credit, the Stones have been supporters of Womack ever since. RIP Bobby Womack.


ABOVE: I think this is his best song. You have probably heard the original version, but this solo acoustic version, what it lacks in refinement makes up for in soul and power.

RIP Eli Wallach, 1915-2014

Tuco has finally been silenced. He was hardly ever the headliner (at least in movies, it was a different story onstage), but the characters played by Eli Wallach, one of the ultimate character actors, almost always stood out in whatever movie he was in. Eli Wallach was Jewish, but onscreen he specialized in playing ethnic characters usually of latin origin (Mexican, Italian, Spanish). He grew up in an Italian neighborhood in New York City, and in interviews credited his success playing those characters to his youth experiences.

Wallach often played rough characters, but in real life he was urbane and sophisticated. A Method actor and graduate of the famed Actor's Studio, he earned many awards for acting onstage. Stage work was his preference. He once said that movies were a means to an end, "I go and get on a horse in Spain for 10 weeks, and I have enough cushion to come back and do a play." Appearing in over 150 film roles, he is perhaps most famous for his Westerns. He played the bandit in 'Magnificent Seven' opposite Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen and others. He was the only good thing about 'Godfather III.' But he will be most remembered as Tuco, the "ugly" in Sergio Leone's classic 'The Good, The Bad & the Ugly.' It was Wallach who gave the film life and vitality and all of its much needed comic relief. Stoic Clint Eastwood and bad to the bone Lee Van Cleef were awesome too, but honestly the film would not be what it was without Wallach's immoral, immortal, fast talking, always scheming Tuco.

We recently lost possibly the greatest character actor of the last couple of decades, Phillip Seymour Hoffman. I see a great connection between Hoffman and Wallach's work. Neither were interested in being "stars." They just wanted to perfect their craft and do their characters justice. They were both actors who served the material first, and made everyone else acting with them look better than they probably were.

RIP Eli Wallach

Check out these three scenes from 'The Good, The bad & The Ugly' to see Wallach's amazing work in that film. Lest you think Tuco was all clown, check out the last emotional clip between Tuco and his brother.


ABOVE: The famous three way duel scene from 'The Good, The Bad & The Ugly.' Sergio Leone's style is unmistakable, and three masters are at work with Eastwood, Van Cleef and Wallach. It is a ballet of tension and violence.


ABOVE: He plays this comedy perfectly with hardly any dialogue at all.

RIP The Professor, 1924-2014

RIP Phil Everly, 1939-2014

RIP Lou Reed, 1942-2013

Not really sure what to write on this one. I could give a straight obituary listing his accomplishments, but I'm not going to do that. Most of my readership knows why Lou matters. Why to a certain corner of the rock universe, Lou was Elvis. In a music that started out of rebellion and that was supposed to offer an alternative to the mainstream society, Lou and the Velvet Underground offered a more daring and darker alternative still to the alternative. One of the most impressive things about The Velvet Underground was that in the midst of Summer of Love and hippies, they were offering a realistic and gritty view from the streets. Yet they were also pretentious and Andy Warhol's band. But then they really weren't. I've always thought the Warhol tie was overblown. Beneath the howling avant garde experiments and seedy tales of junkies and low lifes was a pure foundation in great, classic rock and roll melodies. That was all Lou.

Obviously the Velvets' influence was immense. I've always loved the famous quote (sometimes attributed to Brian Eno) that they only sold 1000 copies of their first record, but everyone who heard it started a band. They actually did sell a bit more than that, but the sentiment is true. They were the ultimate cult band against which all other great bands who get that label are to be judged.

Lou's solo career was just as interesting (if not as earthshaking), and in some ways even more daring. He made some undisputably great music (Transformer), some savage (and glammy) rock and roll (Rock and Roll Animal), but also always stayed on the edge and daring to stretch that envelope. His biggest hit, "Walk On the Wild Side," managed to get substantial airplay for a song about transvestites and oral sex. Again, whatever subversive lyrics were at play, he could always anchor them with catchy music when he wanted to. Or, there was Metal Machine Music. The biggest "f*ck you" in all of popular music. A record of tape hiss and distortion. And it was a double. Even when he failed to reach his goals (like on Berlin), he still made very interesting music. The song "Street Hassle" may be his finest hour (or at least eleven minutes). An alternatively harrowing and humorous storysong that sort of takes Springsteen's epic street tales and drives them into the gutter. What is fantastic is that near the very end, Springsteen himself makes a brief uncredited cameo with a slurred, spoken word verse playing on his own "Born To Run": "Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to pay."

For some reason, a moment in time has stuck with me all of these years. In high school, my friend Johannes and I were taking drivers' ed together. I remember one day at the end of the lesson and we were driving back into the school, and Lou Reed's "Dirty Blvd." was on the radio. Johannes and I both were chatting up the friendly drivers' ed teacher in the parking lot, asking all kinds of driving questions, with the car still running and "Dirty Blvd." playing. As Johannes and I were leaving, he admitted to me that he was trying to extend the conversation for the sole purpose of getting to hear the song in its entirety. He just didn't want to get out of the car until the song was over. That was exactly what I was doing as well. What a great song.

RIP Lou Reed.

RIP Winston, 2002-2013

ABOVE: Winston and my oldest daughter, a couple of years ago

My wife and I both came into our marriage with some baggage. My baggage was named Maurice, and long time readers or close associates of mine will recall Maurice as a feisty cat that I got right before I went to law school. My wife came with Winston, a ridiculously loveable and sociable, let me get this right, King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. As my wife would often say, they were carefully bred to play, sit in your lap and be cute. He fulfilled his genetic purpose remarkably well.

Whereas Maurice was never really integrated into the family unit (he tolerated my wife's presence at best, and when our first daughter came he had to go outside due to his unpredictability), Winston placed himself right in the epicenter. In his better days, he loved to run, chase balls, sit in your lap and watch movies, scour the floor around the dinner table for any crumb that may fall (we never had to vacuum around the table) and so forth. Winston became my dog as much as my wife's, and my older daughter got quite attached as well. He was fantastic with her, even when she was a toddler and did those annoying things (to pets) that toddler's do, like grabbing his tail, pulling on his ears, etc. He never snapped at her, and let her play and cuddle and run with him.

Winston loved his family very much, but there was something that he loved more. That was food. Winston had a passion for food that I have never seen matched in any animal. He wasn't overweight because my wife carefully managed his intake, but he was incredibly excited by anything edible. Not just dog food, but anything you would throw his way from your dinner plate. And he was a healthy eater. He was as enthused by a carrot or broccoli as he was juicy steak. He would sell out the entire population of the planet earth to intergalactic invaders if they offered him a chicken breast. And he was persistent. If he wanted something off your plate, he would sit next to you and whine incessantly until you capitulated. I would often hold out due to stubbornness, but my wife usually gave in.

Within the last year he was afflicted by some sort of nerve disorder that paralyzed the back part of his body. He lost the use of his back legs, and would drag himself around with his front ones. He still was generally happy, though. In fact, he would still play ball. You just had to roll the ball within reach of his front paws, and he would enthusiastically grab it. But in recent weeks things went downhill, as the vet told us they eventually would. So it was time. My wife said her goodbyes, and I took him this morning to the vet to have done what needed be done. That is the second one of those I have watched (the other was Maurice), and while always very sad, it was peaceful and quick. You don't have to stay for the "procedure" of course, but in both cases I felt I owed it to the animal to see them through the end. Tough to do, though.

Anyway, thanks to Winston for being a great dog in most of the ways a dog is supposed to be great. A beloved member of the family who was wonderful to all of us, but especially to my wife and oldest daughter. And with the loss of Winston, I also lost the only other testosterone in the house. I am now completely surrounded by women, without any back-up. RIP Winston.

Addendum. My wife and I were unsure of how to approach explaining to our three year old what happened to Winston. She was quite attached to him. So we did what everyone does these days when confronted by a difficult question, we Googled it. After reading the sage advice found through Google, my wife solemnly approached our daughter and said "we need to talk about Winston." As my wife was following the requisite steps, my daughter seemed unconcerned and wanted to continue playing. "Oh my God, we are raising a sociopath," she whispered to me. No, I just don't think a three year old fully comprehends the meaning of death. Adults don't even comprehend it. I tried to explain death to her once before when she saw me killing a bunch of ants that got in the house. It didn't really connect then either, although she is now my scout for any creatures in our home. Whenever she sees ants or a spider she will call me over and order me to terminate it. My wife does that too. I always have to do the dirty work.

RIP My Honda Accord, 2002-2013

It has served me well. But 185,000 miles later, with brakes going out in front and back, a leaky oil pump, the timing belt going out for a second time and, well, something vague wrong with the carburator, the cost of fixing it is twice the current value of the car. But that is not really what I want to write about.

These past two days my wife, my infant daughter and I have had the distinct privilege of spending our time in the rarified company of car salesmen. Fortunately, my older daughter has been either at Day Care or spending the day with her aunt, uncle and cousin (she came home from her cousin's house with pink hair, but seemed happy). Car salesmen get a bad rap, and most deserve every single bit of it. And then some. I won't bore you with a description of all of the cars that I test drove, because I don't give a sh*t about cars. But the salesmen are fascinating creatures. When you drive up to the dealership, they are hovering like vultures, although they have clearly worked out a system and take turns approaching each new customer.

Salesman #1: Laidback ex-college football player who blew out his knee. Nice enough, and not all that pushy at all. In fact, the opposite of pushy. As I test drove the car, he hardly said a word the entire time and did not try and sell the car at all. Generally, salesmen have a particular route they want you to drive the car, but he didn't care. I think I could have driven to Houston and back and it would not have fazed him. They are also supposed to take your drivers license and make a copy in case you try and steal the car or beat up the salesman while you are on the road. But this guy could have killed me with his left eyelid, so he also didn't bother with my identification. Yet when it came time to talk a deal, there was a quiet menace that fell over him. When it became apparent that his dealership did not have the color I wanted and that I was going to look elsewhere in town, a darkness came over his entire body for a moment, and then he went back to not caring. "You'll be back," he said. (Really).

Salesman #2: The next guy did not speak very much English. This is a disadvantage when trying to sell me a car. He was very excited to show me how the bluetooth worked (I don't care) and how my wife could sync her phone to the car's system (I also do not care). It started because I asked how I could play my ipod in the car. He spent 15 minutes on the side of the road showing us how to sync up a smart phone to the car and play music. It was very confusing, and did not really encourage us to want the vehicle. I kept asking, "but what about my ipod?" He kept replying, "I showing you, it great, let me show you, boss" (he kept calling me "boss," which I kind of liked). My wife asked a very good question, "by hooking up my phone, how does that talk to his ipod?" "Oh, plug ipod here." 15 minutes later. That is all I wanted to know. Where is the plug for the ipod, not how do I control the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.

Salesman #3: He was a recent immigrant from the Philippines, and way too nice to be a car salesman. On our test drive, I noticed that there was a massive wreck on the highway that would be a part of our return route. So I took an alternate route. I can see how this made him very nervous, since he was new to town and did not know his way around. I told him we could take some "backroads" to get back to the dealership and avoid the wreck. So I took charge and drove way off his route, and he kept acting very nervous, as if perhaps I was driving him to my hidden torture chamber or something. But he did tell me a bit about his life as a diplomat for 15 years, and he has an engineering degree. Now "I'm selling cars" in South Texas, he sighed. I felt bad for him and kept reassuring him that I really was taking him back to the dealership and not to a vacant lot where I planned to dismember him.

Salesman #4: The opposite of 1 and 3. Picture Jay Mohr, but more obnoxious. Super cocky and way too false friendly, where everything I said he overly agreed with ("oh yeah, most definitely!") Halfway through our test drive I really, really, really wanted to punch him in the face. If I did, I bet he would still be overly agreeable. He told me my daughter was beautiful about five times. She is, but f*ck you. She could have been a troll and you would have said the same thing. "What I'm really all about is getting you into the right car, the one that you are meant to drive..." When we started to walk out, he pulled out the big guns and called in his manager, who actually blocked the door in the office. "What can we do to make this happen?" he asks. You can start by not holding me hostage in this little office.

Salesman #5: This entire dealership was the most amateurish establishment I have ever been in. The salesmen we got looked like he was in high school, had borrowed his uncle's shirt and tie that was too big for him, and tried to make himself look older by greasing his hair back and growing a little man/boy mustache. He was showing us the car, and could not figure out how to put in the cover in the back that hides your belongings. My wife and I had to show him how to do it. We went inside, and at the desk next to us, the sleaziest salesman you have ever seen was trying to work over this poor young couple. My wife and I listened, transfixed, to his pitch. This was a scene that you think is only in the movies when they are trying to portray the most cliche, sleazy car salesman you could possibly imagine. The kind that you dismiss when they are onscreen, nobody is really like that. Yes they are. He pulled out every old trick, like looking at the young man and saying that he would not put his own daughter in the car they were considering, oh no, they need to be looking at this (more expensive) one over here. "I'm just bein' straight with you, I'm just telling you like it is." In fact, he said, his daughter "wept in gratitude" after he steered her to the right vehicle. This young couple reminds him of his own daughter, you see. My wife kept telling me to get out my phone and record this guy, he was that incredible. Then we go out to test drive our car, and our little salesman starts the engine and has to run back in and get something. The car dies. He returns. I told him the car is dead. It ran out of gas. The freaking car we were going to test drive ran out of gas in the car lot. He looked confused. We left.

Return to Salesman #1: Recall that he told us "you'll be back." Many hours later, I sheepishly walked back into his dealership and told him he was right. He just nodded knowingly. It is the patient fisherman who reels in the prize catch. My wife then proceeded to haggle with him for, really, six hours over everything imaginable. She is so awesome, I would have given in hours before out of boredom. They spent the last hour only $200 apart, but she got us a great deal. I did get to talk with him for awhile, and he is a former corrections officer. Of course. He then told me about some incredibly graphic crimes perpetrated by the inmates he used to guard. He told me that some tried to get chummy with him and said they would come to his house and hang out with him after they got out, and he told them "if you come within 10 miles of my house I will shoot you in the face." In his office, along the wall, he had about 20 different types of gun shells on display. I went out to change the baby's diaper, and when I returned I walked in to him finishing telling a story to my wife about some inmate who raped someone with a screwdriver. She was just nodding silently. He also told me that he was thinking of returning to the prison system. But we came to a deal and I bought a car from him. I liked him.

RIP J.J. Cale, 1938-2013

"Laid back." If an artist's sound is described as "laid back," more often than not, they will also be compared or contrasted with JJ Cale. The Oklahoma singer/guitarist/songwriter practically invented what it means to be "laid back" in rock and roll. But that can be deceptive, because at least in Cale's case, that rarely meant being boring. His artistry was never in your face, but as Neil Young said eariler this year, the two greatest guitarists he ever heard were Jimi Hendrix and JJ Cale. Pretty high praise, but if you listen closely to Cale's work, his fretwork will indeed impress, and you can hear his influence in players like Mark Knopfler and post-Cream Clapton.

Speaking of Clapton, Cale has Eric Clapton to thank for a career. JJ Cale was born, raised and breathed Oklahoma. He is given credit for being the prime originator of the "Oklahoma Sound," a loose and, uh, laid back mix of blues, jazz, folk and rock. He moved to L.A. in the 60's (didn't everybody?) and worked primarily as a sound engineer in a studio. That engineering experience was crucial, as one of the most distinctive qualities of his most celebrated work is also the production and recording. He failed to break through as a performer and returned to Oklahoma intending to move on to a different line of work, when Eric Clapton had a hit with Cale's "After Midnight." Cale the songwriter is much more commercially successful than Cale the performer, his songs have been recorded by Clapton (several times over, "Cocaine" was also penned by Cale), Lynyrd Skynyrd, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash and the Allman Brothers.

But you really should check out his work, especially from the 1970's. I think the purest representative of the Cale sound is his debut, 1972's Naturally. I'd recommend starting there, then checking out Troubador from '76. Critic Richard Cromelin really nailed it when discussing Naturally, he said Cale's music is a "unique hybrid of blues, folk and jazz, marked by relaxed grooves and Cale's fluid guitar and laconic vocals. His early use of drum machines and unconventional mixes lend a distinctive and timeless quality to his work and set him apart from the pack of Americana roots-music purists." As Cale said himself, "I think it goes back to me being a recording mixer and engineer...I came up with a unique sound." He was never bothered by the fact that most casual music listeners have never heard of him, saying "What's really nice is when you get a check in the mail. (Fame) elevates your ego to the point where you start believing your own sh*t."

RIP JJ Cale.


ABOVE: Cale and band performing "After Midnight" sometime in the early 70's. As entertaining as the music are two things: notice how Cale keeps his cigarette going throughout the song, and then the band's fashion sense, especially the two keyboard players.