What You'll Find Here: Music, Movies and Me

Since May 1976, I have written in journals. When I have nothing particularly resonant to say about my own inner turmoil, philosophic ramblings, sexual peccadillos or whining on about the state of the world around me...I have always fallen back on reporting the cultural time consumption that takes up in inordinate portion of my daily goings on.

In the 40+ years since my first concerts seeing Children's Symphony presentations on Sundays at the Pasadena Civic or The Hot Jazz Society's monthly Dixieland romps in an old meeting hall on the edge of the L.A. "River" across from Griffith Park, I have been sold heavily on the magic of live music. As Neil Young so aptly put it, "Live music is better bumper stickers should be issued."

Growing up a few orange groves and canyons length away from Hollywood also contributed greatly to my family's addiction to movie going. From the time I was a small there were weekly trips to the drive-in theaters that dotted the landscape, or the local Temple theater for the Saturday matinees. Once in a while we'd drive the 12 miles into Hollywood and see something in one of the magnificent old movie palaces like Grauman's Chinese, the Egyptian, The Pantages or later the Cinerama Dome. My dad loved Westerns and War movies, as if he didn't get enough shoot-'em-up as an L.A. County Sheriff in his day gig, my mom adored musicals and comedies. My brother and I loved them all.

At SDSU, I played in my first gigging band and began booking concerts on campus as part of the well-funded Cultural Arts Board, kindling for my future life in and around music.

So it's not surprising that my first jobs out of college were working in local video rental places (which were all the rage) or managing a couple of Sam Goody record stores in Mall's on the East Coast where we marveled at the new CD format and sold the first home computers and video games (yes Commodore and Pong and Atari).

So these are really just extensions of all of those journal entries talking about the great new movies I was seeing and LPs/CDs I was listening to.

Though iPODS/iPADs, apps, smart phones and downloads now make music and movies accessible in your own pocket, there is still nothing like sitting in front of a stack of speakers with a room full of people swaying to music created before your eyes. Nor is there anything that works quite so well for me to escape the real world and all of it's pressures just outside than two hours in a dark theater, absorbing the stories flickering across that wide screen as they pull you into their world.

But a really good taco runs a close third...

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA's INAUGURAL ACCEPTANCE SPEECH


Can't think of a more mindblowing day in my lifetime...now granted seeing The Beatles on Ed Sullivan just 4 short months after being home sick and watching JFK shot on TV, was quite a relief from what I was feeling as a 7 year old who dreamed nightly of missiles coming down on us (oh those duck-and-cover drills scared the shit out of me) and The Fab Four opened a world of youth and hope and fun before me even at that young, impressionable age.

I had learned how to read off of Presidential flashcards. My parents, even then die-hard Republicans had taken me to a Goldwater rally, but Kennedy was MY first President. I was too young to know or care about Ike.

And the Beatles and Dylan and the counter-culture, the youth culture of the Civil Rights years, the anti-war movement, the music that was our soundtrack kept me intersted and hopeful and pissed off through that time as an inquisitive young pre-teen and teenager. The slogans of the time though simple and sometimes naive, still resonante with me and my generation in different byut vibrant ways--somehow "All You Need Is Love" set the stages for my investigations into Buddhism and Eastern thought..."War Is Over, If You Want It" has always been a beacon of hope in what seems to have been some sort of ongoing war somewhere in the world for as long as I can recall...

And though the disillusionment of the deaths of MLK and RFK and the riots in Chicago took the wind out of the sails of the idealism of the 60s, the sheer force of will that a people's consciences could help to stop the Vietnam War and could help to bring down the illicit wrongdoing behind Nixon's presidency gave me faith once again...faith that found glimmers in a peanut farmer who was culturally our style but who couldn't muster up what it took for the fight he needed to fight, thru the facade of Reaganism, the clandestine meanderings of GHWB, the hope and charisma of the Clinton years gone down in a hail of hypocritical attacks that forced the public's eye away from real issues into foaming holier-than-thou soapboxing, to the Prodigal Son's comeplte and utter ineptitude in the name of God and Daddy...

Remember that the moon landing was a beautiful, boundary shattering moment that came on the heels of the violence of 1968 and which for a brief moment showed us a look back at Earth in all of it's fragile beauty and made us feel the hand of creation and its hope and the miracle of our existence.

"...Picture a bright blue ball, just spinnin', spinnin' free / it's dizzying, the possibilities..." of course, the next line to that Grateful Dead song is "ashes, ashes, all fall down.*" And there have been many dark hours since the astronauts looked back and saw us staring up at their other worldly achievement.

Well, hold today's moment of hope close and cherish it and let's see if the magnificent, perspective shattering moment that today signifies can hold its water. My prayers are with President Obama (sounds damn good, doesn't it). I pray you will have more strength than you will ever need, more wisdom than you'll have time to use, and more open-minded, human compassion, insight and love than any mortal man before you. You just may need it. Here's to a brave, and diligent and dedicated man. Be your best and push beyond it. Ball is in your hands and there is a full court press on. Make your shot count, sir.





*Lyrics from "Throwing Stones" by John Barlow (c) Ice Nine Publishing