On November 25, 1976, the Band played what they had advertsied as their final concert at the Winterland Ballroom in San Fransisco.  Their performance, along with that of dozens of other performers, was filmed by Martin Scorses and released as The Last Waltz.

My favorite Band song is “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.”   Even though I hate the Confederacy, what it stood for, and the way it destroyed the South, this song always makes me cry.

The most famous version besides the Band’s is by Joan Baez.  Her version hit #3 on the Billboard Top 100 in 1971.

Here’s a band I sorely miss – the Black Crowes.

And wrapping it up in an ironic sort of way is this version by Richie Havens.

Strange that one of the greatest songs about the South was written by a Canadian band.

Säga vad man vill om dokusåpan om Ullared (AB, TV-klipp). Programmet har i alla fall hjälpt mig och jag struntar fullständigt i om det är fejk eller inte! (AB)
….Min sambo hade redan innan programmet fått för sig att det vore en bra idé att åka till Ullared och alla mina försök att övertala henne att låta bli var förgäves. Mitt senaste försök var att jag i alla fall skulle slippa och att hon skulle åka tillsammans med sin syster, men eftersom ingen av dem har körkort så…
….Över till dagens glädjeämne! Efter att ha sett det senaste avsnittet på TV tyckte Hanna att det var förskräckligt att se alla hunsade karlar som tvingades till varuhuset av sina dominanta och själviska kvinnor och utbrast: “Jag ska aldrig utsätta dig för det där. Jag lovar!” I´m off the hook!

Det är i år 40 år sedan Richie Havens inledde Woodstockfestivalen. Jag såg honom i en inspelning därifrån för många år sedan och föll genast för intensiteten och den raspiga rösten. Jag bjuder på en inspelning från 2008 års filmfestival i Cannes eftersom jag tycker att han har utvecklats till en fantastisk äldre man. Originalet från Woodstock finns här.

Mer Ullared: Morgan om sin sjukdom, Allt till bröllopet,
Länkar till andra bloggar om: Ullared, TV, Richie Havens, Woodstockfestivalen, Woodstock, underhållning, musik, rock,

Last Sunday, I spent the entire evening with rock and folk legend Richie Havens.

This is not a metaphor. I repeat, this is not a metaphor. One might interpret the above sentence to mean that I spent the entire evening listening to Richie’s music and thus was spending time in his company in a kind of tacit and imaginary way. But, no, this was as real as it gets. This was forty-five minutes together in the Green Room of the Old Town School of Folk Music on a Sunday night, listening to him tell stories as he methodically restrung his signature acoustic guitar — pausing now and then to emphasize a particular poignant memory — for the performance that was to immediately follow our discussion at around 8:00pm.

How did I get here? The story to how I arrived downstairs with Richie last Sunday could start back in January of this year, but really began six months before. Either way, it would take a long time to tell every detail, so I will aim for brevity instead.

When most people think of Richie Havens, they think of him like this:

Richie Havens, opening act at Woodstock '69.

But when I think of Richie Havens, this isn’t the first image, the first memory, that comes to mind. Rather, I think of him in the context of good ol’ Billy Shakespeare:

Catch My Soul is a rock ‘n’ roll movie-musical adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello set in the American Southwest. It was Richie’s first, and so far only, venture into narrative film. It is also a film that nobody has seen for the past thirty-five years. So, too, it happens to be the subject, the primary (and initial) case study, for the project on liveness, disappearance and lost cinema which has become my senior honors thesis here at Northwestern University.

My soul has become befittingly caught up in this missing film. It has been my life for the last ten months. I am working to chronicle its history and so much more, but I will refrain from putting forth the details.

My meeting with Richie marked, to the date, the tenth month I have been researching the film, a sort of appropriately poetic marker to come in contact with the film’s star at just such a date. And as we talked in the green room, we were surrounded by walls covered with the names of musicians, band members, managers who had occupied this room prior to the two of us. My eyes drifted from side to side in search of the history held in this single room, the evidence that people had come, done their part, and moved on. So many signatures were present that there was no room for my own, had I wanted to add it to the ever-growing list. The room, in this way, was like a time capsule tucked away in the basement of a concert hall, proof for future generations that this room was not just a place to relax, but a historical artifact, a meeting of minds, a little piece of everyone who passed through — a mark only one can make.

Nearing the end of our chat, Richie began to tune his guitar and play a few chords, now readied for the big performance with a brand new set of strings. As he came closer to perfect pitch, the interview organically began to find its resting place, to come to a definitive conclusion — and with the final strum of his guitar, our song and dance on Catch My Soul was over. I only hope that in talking to Richie, in continuing on this project, I can succeed in renewing the strings (so to speak) on this film as a whole, bring it into the present so that it can be once again seen, heard and experienced by all, just like Richie’s favorite guitar.

Richie Havens – Here Comes the Sun (1971)

Woodstock ain’t that long ago

just keep remembering these wonderful songs!

Folk singer Richie Havens was the first performer to play at the legendary Woodstock festival. Because the festival was delayed, Havens had to entertain the crowd for hours. Having run out of tunes, he improvised a song based on the old spiritual “Motherless Child,” which became his now iconic anthem “Freedom.”

The Rooster Stage with 4 singer-songwriters

I went to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco last Saturday with my old friend Sarah and my son Damon. It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too hot and the Golden Gate Park was a great place to hang out. Damon had been to the festival 2 years before, fortunately, so he knew the ropes. We decided to make the Rooster Stage (one of the festival’s 6 stages) our home base; my son got there early enough to stake out a space, spreading out a blanket big enough for the 3 of us to sit on.  It felt like a minor miracle when (3 hours after I’d left home!) we finally found Damon and we were able to relax & listen to the music. I had brought a low beach chair, which was a good thing for my back. I also brought some water and snacks (plums, carrots, rice crackers, trail mix and a bar of dark chocolate), so we were in pretty good shape. Jorma Kaukonen was playing and singing when we first arrived and Richie Havens was playing and singing when we finally left. In between we heard Boz Scaggs with his Blue Velvet Band (including James Cotton, Nick Lowe, Jimmie Vaughn, Austin DeLone & Buddy Miller, among others) as well as 4 singer-songwriters (Dar Williams, Steve Earle, Allison Moorer & Tom Morello) performing their own work.

The singer-songwriters: Dar Williams, Allison Moorer, Steve Earle & Tom Morello

Lots of good, rousing music! All of this took place on the Rooster Stage because there were so many people that it was a huge project going anywhere, even to use a porta-potty or get something to eat from one of the food booths. But the three of us were able to take everything in stride and I think we all enjoyed the people-watching nearly as much as the wonderful music. There were dogs, kids, young people, old and middle aged folks; lots of different ethnic groups were also represented. Everyone was very friendly. After all, we were at a free music festival on a lovely day in a beautiful park – what’s not to like? 

Richie Havens

Sarah & I left around 6 o’clock, as the sun was going down below the trees, the wind was picking up, and the air was getting chillier. (Damon stayed on a while longer and went to hear more music at some of the other stages.) Richie Havens was singing “All Along the Watchtower” as we made our way out, feeling like salmon swimming upstream – there were quite a lot of younger people just arriving. When we finally reached my car out near the ocean we saw a huge full moon emerging from the trees which lined Golden Gate Park. What an adventure!

full moon rising over the Golden Gate Park

Slide guitar maven Ellen McIlwaine has a 44 year career under her belt and is not about to slow down.  Her long history includes performing and recording with musicians such as Jack Bruce, Taj Mahal, and Jeff Healey, creating movie scores, touring the world and so much more.

You can see Ellen McIlwaine perform an intimate solo show LIVE in Cleveland at The Winchester on Saturday, Sept. 26th, 2009.  Showtime is 9:00pm.  Admission is $14.00.  Local country-folk artist Rebekah Jean opens the show.  Visit www.thewinchester.net for information and directions.

Ellen McIlwaine

From Ellen’s website bio (http://www.ellenmcilwaine.com):

“2009 makes forty four years as a professional musician!  After returning to the US for two years of college in 1963, she began playing Acoustic Guitar in Atlanta Georgia while attending Art School, moved to Greenwich Village in 1966, opening for many Blues Greats, and getting to know Odetta, Richie Havens, Mississippi John Hurt and Jimi Hendrix.”

“Moving to Woodstock NY in 1968 and recording Fear Itself with her group of the same name, she gained cult status through her two Polydor albums “Honky Tonk Angel” 1972 and “We the People” 1973.  These were followed by “The Guitar Album”, a compilation of all the guitar players on Polydor in 1974: Link Wray, Rory Gallagher, John McLaughlin, Roy Buchannan to name a few.  Ellen was the only female player.”

“Exposed to everything from Japanese Folk and Classical Music, American Rhythm & Blues greats like Ray Charles, Fats Domino and Professor Longhair on Japanese radio, as well as the Grand Ole Opry on American Armed Forces Radio, while growing up in an International Community of families from India, Pakistan, the Middle East, China, Korea, Eastern and Western Europe, she was playing “World Music” before it was called World Music!”

A comprehensive Canadian Music article about Ellen McIlwaine can be found here:

http://www.laventure.net/tourist/ellenbio.htm

An amazing video of Ellen McIlwaine performing “La Guitara“:

Last call for drinks everybody pull up a chair, this mix is for those late nights whether you’re alone in a bar or in a haze or just wanting to be whisked away by the power of music, enjoy

Drunk Hearted Boy

The Allman Brothers at their boozy, wistful best

Tears Dry On Their Own

You’ll recognize the backing track, but you’ll hear it in a clearer way than ever before

Nice Day

You can almost watch the sun setting from the porch in the midwest listening to these guys

Baby, Baby, Baby

Aretha Franklin may best be known for Respect, but I’ve never heard her more soulful

Yes it Is

A beautiful understated melody and lyric by the Beatles, sometimes called a rehash of This Boy by jaded critics but it has its merits and its all the more sweet

La Mar

Wistful acoustic  beauty

Earthquake Weather

This song belongs in a Wes Anderson movie, or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, after a character has gotten to a drunken/drugged stupor and the world around him is unfolding

Lean On Me (live)

The best anthems are those that are the most simple in their message, and this makes simple look complex

New York State of Mind

Is their anything better for those late lonely nights than a pianist with chops, i think not

Things Ain’t Like They Used To Be

Beautiful melody

Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands

Bob Dylan, in a bar, at 4 am, theres no other way to describe it

You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome

There is a certain familiarity and beauty in Bob Dylans meld of harmonica and guitar that the world hasn’t heard since

Put it On

A criminally underrated Bob Marley song

Evangeline Tonight

This guy is pretty much unknown but this melody is timeless

Meeting Across the River

Bruce Springsteen, sounding more forlorn than ever, and yet the songs beauty is on parallel to West Side Story

New York City Serenade

A stunning piano intro that melds into the most gorgeous acoustic guitar and piano interplay in the history of music

Dancing on the Ceiling

Frank Sinatra simply sounds better and more talented when he’s not trying to swing

Political Science

For the cynic in all of us

Just Like A Woman

As much as Bob Dylan wrote beautiful songs, Richie Havens interprets it as if it shouldn’t have been recorded any other way.

New Coat of Paint

A nightcap to the end of a very late night, hell i can smell the bar

Foi uma mera coincidência esse blog começar justo na semana em que está se festejando os 40 anos do festival de rock que mudou o mundo.

E a melhor maneira de homenagear a data e tudo que Woodstock representou, é dar um pulo no passado e ver alguns dos momentos mais marcantes dos 3 dias de paz e música.

E pra começar, um clássico. Não é fácil superar os Beatles cantando uma das músicas do quarteto. Mas Joe Cocker conseguiu isso em With a Little Help of my Friends, imortalizada no Brasil com a abertura de Anos Incríveis, mas que já era emblemática lá fora desde essa apresentação em Woodstock:

Continuando, agora vamos de Janis Joplin e a música que, na minha opinião, é a melhor que ela já gravou: Piece of my Heart. Detalhe para ela interagindo com o público antes de cantar, falando sobre a situação das pessoas no festival:

Richie Havens está longe de ser dos artistas mais conhecidos a tocar em Woodstock, mas seu improviso no violão entoando o canto de Freedom (liberdade) foi tão marcante que ele foi chamado para repetir a canção essa semana nos gramados de Bethel, local do festival. É quase transcendental:

O show encurtado por causa da chuva (e dos choques que seus integrantes levavam) não impediram os caras do Grateful Dead de protagonizarem um dos shows mais importantes do festival. Confira a apresentação deles de Mama Tried:

E pra fechar, o momento que mais marcou a história do festival. Jimi Hendrix e sua versão psicodélica do Hino Nacional dos EUA. As distorções de guitarra que em dado momento pareciam sons de guerra são inesquecíveis:

Antológico!

Freedom

Coming Into Los Angeles

Tal día como hoy, hace cuarenta años, Jimi Hendrix puso punto y final, guitarra en ristre, con una psicodélica interpretación del himno de los Estados Unidos (bajo estas líneas) al Festival de Woodstock, o mejor dicho, a la Feria de Arte y Música de Woodstock (The Woodstock Music & Art Fair), la denominación oficial que recibió.

El legendario músico —tristemente fallecido un año después en Londres— puso de semejante modo el broche a tres de días de música envueltos en un halo de paz harto difícil de repetir, en plena Guerra de Vietnam, 15, 16 y 17 de agosto.  Un broche que a la postre se tornaría dorado debido a la relevancia que aquello cobró con el paso del tiempo, hasta el punto de ser considerado en la actualidad uno de los eventos más importantes en la historia del Rock ‘n’ Roll. Ni organizadores, ni artistas, ni asistentes, es decir, nadie se atrevió a imaginar que aquel escenario levantado sobre un lodazal en mitad de la nada terminaría siendo el éxito que hoy rememoramos. Porque una cosa fue la idea original y otra muy distinta, el resultado final, tanto para lo bueno como para lo malo o menos bueno.

Michael Lang, el padre de la criatura, pretendía celebrar un festival en Wallkill, Nueva York, en 1969 tomando como modelos el Monterey Pop de junio del 68 en California y el acontecido en el londinense Hyde Park en julio del mismo año. En él actuarían los nombres más prometedores del panorama musical de la época, del más “alternativo”, entre ellos Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Bob Dylan, Jethro Tull, The Byrds, The Who, Jefferson Airplane o el citado Hendrix, ante la atenta mirada de unos 200 000 espectadores y las cámaras de Michael Wadleigh, quien se encargaría de rodar Woodstock Festival: tres días de paz, amor y música, documental que ganaría un Oscar en 1971 y en el cual también trabajó Martin Scorsese. Vamos, el negocio perfecto.

Y así fue, un negocio, aunque tal y como adelantamos no se produjo exactamente de esa manera ni en ese momento. Los gobernantes de Wallkill no aceptaron acoger el evento temerosos de una “invasión” juvenil, cuando tan sólo restaba un mes para su inicio. Afortunadamente para Michael Lang, en su camino se cruzó un tal Elliot, apellidado igual que cierto río que nace en los Apeninos y atraviesa Roma. Pues bien, el señor Tiber, quien regentaba un motel en Bethel —también en Nueva York y en torno a una hora de Wallkill—, le puso en contacto con Max Yasgur, vecino y propietario de terrenos agrícolas en las cercanías de la localidad, donde además comerciaba la leche de sus reses, para tratar de lograr el alquiler de una parcela. Hubo acuerdo y se pagaron, o mejor dicho, John Roberts y Joel Rosenman, los socios capitalistas de Lang, pagaron 75 000 dólares por 600 acres de hierba.

A pesar del visto bueno de las autoridades locales, la noticia de la inminete  llegada de 50 000 visitantes —cifra que astutamente presentaron Lang y compañía, a sabiendas de que la auténtica era cuatro veces mayor como ya señalamos— no fue recibida con tanto agrado entre los lugareños, quienes invitaron a cambiar de parecer a Yasgur mediante un “bloqueo” consistente en no comprar su leche. No funcionó el invento, la leche y el Tíber siguieron su curso y Bethel, a 69 km de Woodstock, se convirtió definitivamente en la sede del Festival, y de ahí lo de su nombre.

Una vez el escenario estuvo instalado a la sombra de la colina que dominaba la granja para facilitar  la visibilidad en la medida de lo posible, se entiende, al igual que un par de quioscos de venta de comida, comenzaron a acampar los esperados 50 000 festivaleros —millar arriba o abajo según la fuente consultada—, los mismos que habían adquirido sus entradas a unos 18 dólares de entonces lejos de allí, puesto que en el recinto no había taquillas (por no haber no había publicidad, algo impensable en nuestros días). Y entonces llegó el viernes 15 de agosto de 1969 y con él se fueron al traste todos los planes, al margen de las ausencias en el cartel de Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Bob Dylan, Jethro Tull y The Byrds, que por unas causas o por otras finalmente rechazaron la oferta de formar parte de él .

Y es que instantes antes de que subiera al escenario el primer músico, la carretera de acceso al lugar estaba sorprendentemente sumida en un atasco kilométrico. De hecho, las bandas tuvieron que ser desplazadas hasta allí en helicóptero, pero aún así hubo una que no logró llegar a tiempo, Sweetwater, y para más inri era la encargada de dar el pistoletazo de salida de Woodstock. Por este motivo, el que estrenó el evento pasadas las 17:00 horas fue Richie Havens, cuya actuación arrancó con High Flyin’ Bird y concluyó con Freedom (abajo), una canción genialmente improvisada sobre la marcha y elevada más tarde a los altares de himno de una generación, la de las flores y el amor libre, la droga consumida en pipas de papel de plata y el sentimiento antibelicista, es decir, la generación hippy.

De modo que aquel día 15 de agosto, alrededor de la colina de Woodstock, se congregaron más de 50 000 hippies, y de 200 000… fueron unos 450 000, un número que superó con creces las expectativas de propios y extraños, incluidas las de la organización, lógicamente. Y  como ésta no tenía manera de controlar tal marea de gente y hacer que cada cual comprara su entrada, o desalojarlo, decidió que el Festival pasara a ser gratuito en detrimento de sus intereses y salud económicos. Entonces comenzaron unas jornadas de armoniosa y multitudinaria convivencia con el Rock ‘n’ Roll como excusa y fundamento. Algo muy meritorio si se tiene en cuenta que transcurrieron en medio de la falta de organización citada anteriormente y de unas condiciones insalubres  fruto del hacinamiento y de la lluvia que convirtió aquello en un barrizal. Mientras el gobernador Nelson A. Rockefeller declaraba el condado zona catastrófica y el ejército repartía medicinas y comida desde las alturas, se produjeron varias muertes a lo largo del Festival; dos por sobredosis y una ocasionada por un tractor que atropelló a un individuo.

Pero nada interrumpió la orgía de música iniciada por Richie Havens y ese mismo viernes tocaron otros como The Incredible String Band, Bert Sommer, Sweetwater —quienes a pesar de los pesares también participaron— y una embarazada de seis meses Joan Baez, que firmó la última actuación de la jornada al amparo de la noche con el siguiente We Shall Overcome.

Más y mejor pisó el escenario unas horas después. Un sábado que empezó en Woodstock al mediodía con la intervención de los estadounidenses Quill, a quienes siguieron John Sebastian (en la imagen, de Henry Diltz/CORBIS), un joven de 22 años llamado Carlos Santana, que obsequió a los presentes con punteos y temas intemporales como Evil Ways o Soul Sacrifice (primer vídeo bajo estas líneas), Mountain, Grateful Dead liderados ya por Jerry García, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin acompañada por The Kozmic Blues Band, o Jefferson Airplane, el máximo exponente de la música psicodélica de la época, y quizás el gran revulsivo en el listado de bandas que se dieron cita en Woodstock con temas de la talla de White Rabbit (más abajo).

De madrugada, los encargados de cerrar la velada fueron los Who  con su mítica formación original al completo, esto es Pete Townshend a la guitarra, Roger Daltrey como vocalista, Keith Moon en la batería y John Entwistle de bajo. Tras de sí dejaron canciones como la célebre My Generation o la no menos conocida Pinball Wizard.

La última jornada empezó con la misma calidad de la que hizo gala la anterior, y así la inconfundible voz de Joe Cocker (en la fotografía) dio forma entre otras a With a little Help from My friends (arriba). Acto seguido la tormenta obligó a realizar un paréntesis en el programa, pero cuando se reanudó retomó el pulso de la mano de The Band, Johnny Winter o Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, grupo que precisamente  en 1970 triunfaría en Reino Unido con un tema dedicado al Festival, Woodstock. El último en aparecer fue Jimi Hendrix, quien a pesar no tener que demostrar nada a nadie, dejó constancia de su maestría con una púa entre los dedos en composiciones como Foxy Lady, Fire, Voodoo Child, Purple Haze (abajo) o Hey Joe. Abandonó el recinto bajo el sol del lunes 18 de agosto, después de interpretar su particular Star spangled banner. Pero para entonces ya había entrado a formar parte de su historia, de la Historia, aquella grabada en una placa de cierta granja de Bethel que recuerda al visitante lo mismo que hoy celebramos. Woodstock, su espíritu, vive.

• Fuentes consultadas:

efeeme.com

rtve.es

lavanguardia.es

elpais.com

publico.es

farodevigo.es

mercuriovalpo.cl

imdb.com

ok, before i begin, i hate patchouli.  and am not fond of people who smell bad.  and think recreational drug use is stupid.  and sometimes i urinate on tie-dye shirts.  and i think people who do the “twine dance” are most likely mentally limited.  now, all that being said, i think it’s only fitting to commemorate the fact that 40 years ago today the 3rd day of woodstock was going down.  now, see here, i aint no damn hippie!  even though when i was 17 and had long hair and was obsessed with bob marley and smoked copious amounts of ganja and wore corduroys i still wasn’t a…oh crap, i think maybe i was a hippie!  whatever!  those days are long gone (and i am from maine, after all, gimme a break!).  nevertheless, there were some incredible musical moments from that festival and it was socially revolutionary in many ways (though, the age of aquarius was short lived, dying soon after at altamont).  so for this music monday we’ll get the big names and the i’ll feature a couple clips from the festival, but only a few as you can see the whole thing in the really well put together woodstock film.  but, to start out, a song that was post-woodstock, written by joni mitchell but mastered by CSNY (for the record, CSN are ho-hum to me, but neil young is a friggin’ genius).  here’s “woodstock”.

the first clip from woodstock is richie havens doing “freedom”.  havens’ opened woodstock, and there couldn’t have been a more powerful & poignant way to kick it off.

joan baez is well known as a songwriter, but her fame really lies more in her ability to do really great covers of other peoples’ songs.  here’s one of the more well known ones, the bands’ “the night they drove ol’ dixie down”.

the next clip from woodstock is one of the best moments that happened, country joe mcdonald & the fish doing the ultimate protest song “i feel like i’m fixin’ to die rag”.  kind of makes you wanna shout “hey hey LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?”.  oh for the times when people actually got mad about war.  what an idea!

ok, this one could get me in trouble.  allow me to state that in high school i was founder of the “no, i will NOT wear a grateful dead shirt!”, as it had become something that was required of all, even the kids who had no gd clue about the GD.  those stupid dancing bears haunted my days.  but, i do love this old spiritual that the group would incorporate in their shows, as a closer, and it’s “we bid you goodnight”.  i hope i don’t lose any friends over this.

the dude loves ccr.  and so do i.  bringing some cred back, here’s creedance clearwater revival with “green river”.

sly & the family stone.  hot damn they knew how to get down.  and up.  live on sooooooooooooooul train, here’s  “i wanna take you higher”.

the who are the greatest hard rock band ever.  enough with the zeppelin.  daltrey could blow plant away with his pipes, entwistle’s bass playing is totally unequaled, bonham might be a bit better then moon but i’ll take the loon, and sure page was a better guitarist, but townsend was a great writer, too.  it’s all about the who kids.  here’s why.  ” a quick one while he’s away”.

the band played a lot with bob dylan.  dylan didn’t do woodstock, but the band did.  however, i want to put on this video of the band with bob dylan b/c it’s my bloog and i do what i want!  here’s the band & the luscious bobby d with “forever young/baby let me follow you down”.

and no better way to end then with the historic and mind blowing rendition of our national anthem.  here’s the one & only jimi hendrix with “the star spangled banner”.

next week i’m doing old school hardcore to regain my street cred.

Woodstock. 15-18 august 1969. Patru minute de deconstrucţie a imnului american pe chitara lui Hendrix strâng în ele toată revolta unei generaţii, anunţă moartea idealurilor sufocate de droguri şi naşterea concertelor de dimensiuni industriale. Astăzi, tinerii de atunci sunt cetăţeni respectabili care se confruntă cu criza economică. Din păcate, lumea şi-a pierdut din iluzii, iar dragostea nu mai e “la modă”.

Câteva poveşti frumoase şi secvenţe live, pe sunetvechi…

I’m in a Woodstock mood. Blame Adrastos.

A special section – Woodstock Nation. Second of a three-part series. Part 1 | Part 3

August 16, 2009 – The first of the “3 days of peace and music” – and mud – had been just a prelude to Rock ‘n’ Roll Survival Weekend.

BY THE TIME CARLOS Santana finished playing Soul Sacrifice Saturday afternoon at Woodstock, he was a major star.

“Every band changed the vibes,” recalls Dena Quilici, one of the many there from southeastern New England. And the crowd came alive for Santana. The by-now broiling sun, the hunger and thirst and mud, the Army helicopters intermittently turning fire hoses on us full-force to cool us off – “all those troubles kind of went away once you just settled down and started listening to the music,” says Ty Davis.

Santana was a salsa band without a contract, who came at the Dead’s insistence. “Santana came out and just blew everyone away,” says Ron Gamache. “We kept saying, ‘Who are these guys?’ We’d never heard such rhythms.”

Quill had opened Saturday’s show about noon. Only Ty Davis seems to remember them, “as one of the totally unimportant bands. But they were one of the first Boston bands to get any notice.”

Michele Keir had a tremendous time at Woodstock, even though she heard only one band and doesn’t recall which one.

Many of us who were there don’t individually remember much of the music for which Woodstock has become a synonym.

The quality of the sound was fantastic near the stage, deteriorating to terrible at about half the depth of the crowd and beyond. And the bands were faraway specks to many, competing with the human kaleidoscope around us.

Musicians had to touch and amplify some powerful human chord just to get our attention.

“You knew you were there more for the experience than for the music,” says Dennis Lemoine.

There were bubbles and banners and weirdly dressed people. Many of Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters were evolving into the Hog Farmers, members of a New Mexico commune who cooked, and counseled and taught survival skills. Both groups were at Woodstock.

Mel Ash didn’t know who the Pranksters were then, but he later read Tom Wolfe’s chronicle of their bus trip across America playing theatrical cosmic jokes, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. “The next year, I said, ‘These are famous people.’ “

The experience was intensely visual. The Hell’s Angels arrived, and started ferrying medical supplies.

“I remember one guy with an American flag headband and a flag cape, going around with some sign about ‘If we all coordinate our energies, we can end the war this weekend’ – a very intense wired cat,” remembers John Haerry.

“We were next to a blanket containing a really huge guy dressed only in athletic shorts,” Tom Mulligan recalls, “getting his body painted by his girlfriend. That was my first exposure to body-painting.”

“I don’t remember the music so much as the people, but it was a background,” says Dena Quilici.

“It got so big the music was just a little part of it,” says Walter Williams.

Food lines

We seemed to be spending as much time searching for food as our ancestors had.

Joe Caffey lined up to buy overpriced tomatoes. “You knew you were gonna get ripped off, but you’re starving. And the guy had a 10-gallon can of tuna fish. Then a guy comes out of nowhere, naked, sticks his hand into the pot, grabs a handful and goes off into the woods.”

“Somebody came in with a soda truck and started selling cans for a buck,” David DelBonis recalls. “Everybody got really ticked off, and kind of confiscated the truck, passed out the soda. But they started handing the guy what he should have been selling it for – a quarter, at that time. They just starting throwing the money at him, saying ‘This is what the can’s worth, you got it.’ He tried to scalp everybody . . . but they didn’t steal it.”

I had a half-full bottle of Vin Rouge Superieur left from Friday night, and I desperately wished for a miracle that would turn the wine into water. When the water truck arrived, I dumped out the wine. For two days that empty bottle was my most precious possession.

“There was a premium on cold things,” Tom Mulligan remembers. “People with beer and soft drinks were held in high esteem. Someone nearby had a basket with raw carrots and shared it, but nothing went very far.”

Mel Ash of Providence, a vegetarian, had the foresight to bring about 2 1cans of sardines to barter with. “I hated fish, but they could be opened with keys, so they were convenient. We traded for watermelons.”

At the Hog Farm across a road from the music area, where street signs read High Way, Groovy Way, and Peaceful Way, Woodstock Stew was on the menu. It was a sticky vegetable and grain glop that tasted strange to those of us raised on canned soup casseroles, but was very filling. They served free brown rice and vegetables all weekend, and more.

When Ash went there looking for food, “They were handing out cones of granola, and Wavy Gravy (the commune’s leader) was saying some Zen saying, ‘A day without work is a day without eating.’ So we volunteered to clean the pots. Then we went closer to the crowd at the stage and said, ‘Free food this way, eat all you can, if you can’t eat it, give it away.’ Over and over again for a couple of hours.”

Demand for pay

We settled in to wait for Bob Dylan.

With every helicopter that landed behind the stage, rumors spread that it was Dylan, who lived in Woodstock – the town, not the nation – 50 miles away. He never came. He was playing the Isle of Wight on the English Channel for $87,000, a booking he had before Woodstock asked him to play.

Jimi Hendrix, the highest-paid act at Woodstock, got $18,000. Santana earned less than $2,500. The Who ($6,250) and the Grateful Dead got nervous about the free concert and refused to play unless they were paid in cash. A local banker was roused after midnight and whisked by helicopter to the bank in his pajamas to get $25,000 cash.

The performers didn’t share our physical hardships. Helicopters were delivering delicacies and champagne to the performers’ area. David’s Potbelly Restaurant from New York City catered and offered to ferry them back to the hotel and the party in the bar.

But they had to face the biggest, most distracted crowd in rock history and were looking at major flop sweats.

If other bands griped about facing a crowd too big to reach, Creedence had a different problem. They followed the Grateful Dead at 3:30 a.m. and the biggest crowd in rock history was dead asleep. John Fogerty has said he saw one guy flash his lighter, and played the whole set to that one person.

Power acts

Rock’s power lineup was on Saturday night’s bill, but by then many of us were exhausted. “The music was 24 hours, so you had to pick and choose,” says Mel Ash. “My friend and I took turns waking each other up. There was a lot of sharing of blankets and what not.”

Still, with all the distractions wrenching our attention from the music, among us we have a composite memory good enough to reconstruct most of the action.

To many, Janis Joplin was the only woman really out there on the edge alone. The reigning folk and rock women – Baez, Grace Slick, Joni Mitchell, Michelle Phillips of the Mama and Papas, Judy Collins – were romantic figures, and Mama Cass was a 300-pound hot ticket in a quartet. But Janis was beyond the pale, a brazen hussy singing her soul out as she swigged Southern Comfort. A lot of us were rooting for her, but the woman who wailed, “I’m gonna show you that a woman can be tough,” seemed born too soon and too alone.

She is reported to have said, “Me, I was brought up in a middle-class family; I could have had anything. But you need something more in your gut, man.” Her emptiness seemed bottomless, and the more she battled the blues with hard liquor, heroin and one-night stands, the deeper she seemed to sink.

Woodstock isn’t generally considered one of her great performances. She seemed genuinely distraught as she wailed and sobbed in a skimpy dress with spangles instead of her customary feathers. Her band – neither Big Brother and the Holding Company nor Full Tilt Boogie but the Cosmic Blues Band with saxes and trombones – didn’t seem to work with her.

To some it didn’t matter.

“When Janis sang Ball and Chain . . . We all felt tied down like that,” says Carmino Scaglione.

David Weinrebe had plopped down in a ditch to sleep. “I woke up to Janis Joplin shrieking. She was a goddess. To be waking out of a dead sleep to Janis . . .”

When Sly Stone followed, he did something with I Want to Take You Higher, that had the entire crowd on its feet shouting “higher” for 45 minutes.

Dawn Jabari-Zhou remembers Sly for the “enthusiasm and energy it created in concert. Everybody was up, paying attention, shouting and clapping, Sly in a bright white outfit, an Indian jacket with tassels long the sleeves. He almost looked like he was a bird and like he was gonna take off and fly.”

The Who and Abbie

The Who played at 2 in the morning. What everybody remembers is Pete Townshend bashing Abbie Hoffman with his guitar.

Abbie had seized the mike to urge the crowd smoking flowers so freely to mobilize on behalf of John Sinclair, head of the White Panther Party, who was serving a 10-year sentence for having passed a joint to a narcotics officer. Somebody turned the mike off and Townshend made like a bayonet with the guitar and jabbed Abbie in the head and off the stage.

In Soon to be a Major Motion Picture, Abbie wrote, “Townshend, who had been tuning up, turned around and bumped me. A nonincident.”

But Townshend told Rolling Stone magazine, “I kicked him off the stage. I deeply regret that. If I was given that opportunity again I would stop the show. Because I don’t think rock and roll is that important. Then I did. The show had to go on.”

Rico Topazio of Bristol, who now plays in a band called the Pink Cadillacs in Los Angeles, says, “I liked Abbie, but it was the wrong time for Abbie to be on stage. As a guitar player, I knew that. Pete didn’t know who Abbie was. Woodstock wasn’t political in that way. It was as if Bob Hope were at a USO show, time to get away from all that, to see how many of us were together.”

The crowd seemed to agree with Pete that Abbie was out of line. There were no boos or shouts, and The Who continued playing. “The Who were in their prime, not like they are now,” Haerry recalls. “Roger Daltrey still had his voice, and Pete Townshend still had his voice, and they did a hell of a show.”

It’s unfair that Abbie is remembered for a stupid act at Woodstock. Abbie had organized the medical tent, worked in the bad trips tent, and been an extraordinarily competent man to have around. His death by suicide earlier this year, so close to this anniversary, seems to mark the end of yet another era. Wavy Gravy, the man on the record saying, “There’s a little bit of heaven in every disaster area,” suggested to me this week that if we cared, it would be fitting to “do something for the Yipper.”

Just as dawn broke, the Jefferson Airplane took the stage. They had been waiting to play since 10:30 the night before, and Grace Slick played with her eyes closed.

“I remember waking up at about 5 in the morning,” said Haerry, “and all of a sudden hearing Grace Slick out of nowhere, ‘Good morning, people, it’s time to wake up,’ ” BOINGGGGGGGG, Whoa, yeah] and going down to the stage, treading my way through what looked like the aftermath of a battlefield, all these bodies and getting right down to the front of the stage and there was Jefferson Airplane, 25 or 30 feet away.”

“I had to see Grace Slick,” Mel Ash says, “because I was in love with Grace Slick and I thought the Airplane represented at that moment everything the culture stood for.”

Grace Slick in a white fringed minidress in the blue dawn is an image burned in many brains.

“The sun was coming up over the hills,” recalls Carmino Scaglione, “over the campfires of the people who’d been up all night,” and she sang White Rabbit, the song that let the East know what the West had been up to in the summer of ‘67.

Do You Want Somebody to Love? sent ripples up spines; hearing only Volunteers on the concert tape is one reason to have been at Woodstock.

It was Sunday morning. Time enough to sleep. BY SHEILA LENNON. Source.