My Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
There's not many things that get to me emotionally. Close family, friends, and rock and roll.
Far be it from me to be a corporate rock bitch. But, every year, I tend to tune in to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions on VH1, typically broadcast several weeks after the ceremonies. There's usually a few (progressively fewer as the years go on) stellar moments that make me feel alive. Neil Young with the Pretenders on "My City Was Gone". Paul McCartney reading a letter to his dear departed friend John Lennon. Prince, wailing away on While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
Tonight, VH1 classic broadcast this year's event live, as it happened. I caught it after work on TiVo. I saw some fantastic moments from Aretha Franklin paying tribute to Ahmet Ertegen, to my idol Keith Richards inducting the Ronettes.
I'm watching Zach dela Rocha induct Patti Smith as I write this. But it was the thing I saw directly before this that caused me to grab my laptop and write. It was a 10 minute collage of "Past Highlights". I saw Neil Young play with Led Zeppelin. I saw Eddie Vedder induct the Ramones. I saw Dylan and Jagger sing "Like a Rolling Stone". I saw Chuck Berry. I saw Little Richard. I saw Johnny Cash. I saw the Stones, the Beatles, Brian Wilson. I saw James Brown.
I welled up. I can count on 2 fingers the times I've done this in the last 5 years. When I was at a Paul McCartney concert with my parents, as he's singing "Hey Jude". I welled up with emotion then. When my grandfather died last summer, I cried then. Watching these men I don't know personally, but have touched my life and shaped it so deeply, I welled up. Most of you who read this will not understand, and that's fine. But this is my life, for better or worse.
It's Mike and I in the 6th grade talking about the Beatles. Maybe ridiculed by everyone else for our outdated tastes, but nothing touching our lives and souls like the music. The THRILL of coming across a shiny green Apple label White Album some sunny Sunday afternoon his mom took us up to Thayer St. to Tom's Tracks or In Your Ear. It's lying on the floor in silence in my bedroom late at night in high school listening to lost Smile tracks from the mind of Brian Wilson transmitted directly into our hearts and souls. We didn't need the fucking popularity. We didn't need the chicks. We had Mick. We had Keith. We had Neil. We had John and Paul. Fuck Them if they didn't understand. Fuck them still.
It's CJ and I bonding over Soul Asylum in Boy Scouts. Later it was the Ramones. And later still, it's next weekend in New York City with the Pogues.
It's Blake and me in his basement bashing away after school.
It's Jon, my teacher, friend, and hero going to shows, jamming, talking about music, living the music.
It's my life. I wouldn't change a fucking thing.
Far be it from me to be a corporate rock bitch. But, every year, I tend to tune in to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions on VH1, typically broadcast several weeks after the ceremonies. There's usually a few (progressively fewer as the years go on) stellar moments that make me feel alive. Neil Young with the Pretenders on "My City Was Gone". Paul McCartney reading a letter to his dear departed friend John Lennon. Prince, wailing away on While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
Tonight, VH1 classic broadcast this year's event live, as it happened. I caught it after work on TiVo. I saw some fantastic moments from Aretha Franklin paying tribute to Ahmet Ertegen, to my idol Keith Richards inducting the Ronettes.
I'm watching Zach dela Rocha induct Patti Smith as I write this. But it was the thing I saw directly before this that caused me to grab my laptop and write. It was a 10 minute collage of "Past Highlights". I saw Neil Young play with Led Zeppelin. I saw Eddie Vedder induct the Ramones. I saw Dylan and Jagger sing "Like a Rolling Stone". I saw Chuck Berry. I saw Little Richard. I saw Johnny Cash. I saw the Stones, the Beatles, Brian Wilson. I saw James Brown.
I welled up. I can count on 2 fingers the times I've done this in the last 5 years. When I was at a Paul McCartney concert with my parents, as he's singing "Hey Jude". I welled up with emotion then. When my grandfather died last summer, I cried then. Watching these men I don't know personally, but have touched my life and shaped it so deeply, I welled up. Most of you who read this will not understand, and that's fine. But this is my life, for better or worse.
It's Mike and I in the 6th grade talking about the Beatles. Maybe ridiculed by everyone else for our outdated tastes, but nothing touching our lives and souls like the music. The THRILL of coming across a shiny green Apple label White Album some sunny Sunday afternoon his mom took us up to Thayer St. to Tom's Tracks or In Your Ear. It's lying on the floor in silence in my bedroom late at night in high school listening to lost Smile tracks from the mind of Brian Wilson transmitted directly into our hearts and souls. We didn't need the fucking popularity. We didn't need the chicks. We had Mick. We had Keith. We had Neil. We had John and Paul. Fuck Them if they didn't understand. Fuck them still.
It's CJ and I bonding over Soul Asylum in Boy Scouts. Later it was the Ramones. And later still, it's next weekend in New York City with the Pogues.
It's Blake and me in his basement bashing away after school.
It's Jon, my teacher, friend, and hero going to shows, jamming, talking about music, living the music.
It's my life. I wouldn't change a fucking thing.
posted by Doug MacGunnigle at 3/13/2007 01:52:00 AM
4 Comments:
this is an excellent post :)
Pretty Damn Insightful. Why is it that all music geeks love the Stones and/or Beatles at a very young age. My half brother LOVED Yellow Submarine at 5. Me, Rubber Soul at 7. Timeless.
How about Jerry Garcia? I always tear up when I hear him sing Black Peter.
I'm looking forward to meeting you in April. Mike has talked up a storm about you, and I'm happy to hear you like the Grateful Dead. I saw them 25 times as a teenager -- but now, so few people to talk to about them...
You know, it's weird... I don't think I've ever made an effort to watch an entire RRHOF induction ceremony. I mean, I love the idea of honoring our heroes & whatnot, but for some strange reason I haven't felt compelled to watch. Maybe if I was invited to attend the actual ceremony, I'd be singin' a different tune. But beyond that, I (of course) identify with the spirit of your post wholeheartedly. Especially the part about not needing the chicks or the popularity. Remember how silly and juvenile girls were in 5th grade? Remember how the prevailing tastes of our classmates just weren't all that exciting? Finding that green Apple copy of Something New at In Your Ear was a greater thrill than any of those people could imagine. Ditto for the White Album, which as you may recall, I bought at least 5 times in different LP variations after you scored it first! And hearing the Smile tracks around Xma$ time at night in your room felt like we had opened a treasure trove of priceless riches. I wouldn't change a thing either.
...and I'm STILL waiting on those video clips!!
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