I took my bride to the North Pole to check on progress at Santa’s Workshop. You see, we submit voluminous and detailed lists of what we want for Christmas, so we have to provide oversight.
I’m proud to say that Santa and the elves were kickin’ it … some kind of ball I think. But they were also working hard on toys. I could tell because Santa’s cheeks and nose were red.
So rest peacefully, little children. Santa will be ready to come to your house and make your Christmas Merry once again this year. After all, Christmas is 12 days away, so we start expecting presents any minute.
I recall where I was when Pres. Kennedy was assassinated, during the Oklahoma City Bombing, and when the Twin Towers fell. But today, I recall getting the news that my older brother had died of cancer.
As I say in the article, I go public to memorialize him and perhaps to help others who are coping with grief over the loss of a loved one.
My goodness — it’s been a while since I updated this page. Since I’m not using Facebook much any more, I’ll probably be transferring old things here and posting new things.
As I do each year at this time, I’m honoring my late brother Craig this week. Each year I’ve added more to his mythical and his realistic history — you just have to figure out which is which.
The Beatles WERE pop music in the 60s, but when they broke up The Bee Gees took over in the 70s.
Kings Of Disco — and More — The Bee Gees
When we talk about pop music, we mean the top 40 record charts and the sales of singles. It was a different world and a different musical industry in those pre-digital days.
The Bee Gees were melodic songwriters and harmonic singers. The brothers Gibb started at an early age (twins Robin and Maurice were only 5) so they were perfectly synchronized as songwriters and performers in a way that only family members can be. Unlike Lennon and McCartney, they weren’t soul mates, so there was competition and tension among the brothers that uniquely shaped their music.
Unfortunately, by the 70s, pop music veered away from melody and harmony and directed itself toward beats, rhythm, dance music.
“Listening Music” could be danced to, but not all dance music was listened to. It was a trigger for brain-stem reflexes that got people tapping their feet, snapping fingers, clapping hands, and moving on the dance floor. Lyrics were not necessary, and devolved into patter, doggerel, and cliche.
When the BGs started writing dance music, it was characteristically melodic and they used their harmonies to great effect. Some of the falsetto harmonies are absolutely out-of-this-world.
But by popularizing disco for the mainstream audience, they opened the door to the crass commercialization and eventual degradation of it. The sterling example in this video is “Disco Duck.”
Everybody had to jump on the Disco bandwagon — The Stones, Rod Stewart, and even Johnny Mercer (he did “That Old Black Magic” as disco!).
Eventually (quickly), the Gibbs saturated the market to the point that they became unpopular. A harsh blowback of “I Hate Disco” followed, the their music would not get played on the pop stations. Even if their name was poison to radio programmers, their music was still covered and they still wrote new material for a variety of artists — Barbra Streisand, Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton, and a host of others. Oh yeah, and they gave some of their fame to younger brother Andy Gibb who had a bunch of smash hits before dying of drug abuse at age 30.
Today, we are in an era of niche-markets although there is still a mainstream music market. However, the numbers are much smaller today — it’s not easy to earn a million dollars when Spotify only pays something like 1/1000th cent royalty.
You might say there were two Bee Gees — the Before and After Disco groups.
But there are more than two types of Bee Gees fans — there are the Before Disco, the After Disco, and those who love everything the Brothers Gibb ever did.
POSTSCRIPT: Sir Barry Gibb is the sole surviving of the four brothers (they also had one sister, oldest sibling Lesley Evans, still living) and is actively performing at age 74. That makes a 65 year career — and still going.
Some witty person once said that writing poetry is a bad habit, but it is even worse if they read it in public. I’ve had that bad habit — mainly writing song lyrics — for many years. I just can’t quit. However, I also collaborate with people and that mitigates my sins (I hope). On this — the anniversary of John Lennon — I want to turn serious for a moment (I promise I won’t keep it up long). Once upon a time I was noodling around on the piano, and while I was playing “Imagine” (John Lennon’s masterpiece), I got a few chords wrong but found out that I liked the way it sounded. I used that as a springboard to write a song that is NOT a direct copy of Imagine, but is in the same spirit. But over the years I have failed to write a lyric that satisfies me. My wish this year is that I can find someone willing to write lyrics for me. I call the song “Peace On Earth” because one of John and Yoko’s causes was world peace. Is there anyone who would like to take a shot at it? I’d love to have this tribute to John Lennon in my portfolio, and if it ever became commercially viable would share ownership equally with any person (or persons) who can finish up this song for me.
Those who know me personally or have been following me the past several years know that I celebrate the first week of December as a memorial to my late, great big brother Craig, who passed away at age 49 in 2002.
Craig was born on Dec. 4 and died on Dec. 6 — much too soon — of colon cancer. Now, it has been 18 years and I can hardly believe it.
Craig LOVED Music!
We grew up in Kansas, and at the time, you could drink 3.2% beer (or tavern beer as opposed to 5% beer from liquor stores) and buy cigarettes at age 18. To really make myself feel old, I’ll tell you that Craig and I could buy a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes for $5.00 and havea great Saturday night! Ahhh those were the days.
But Craig is gone now, beer and cigarettes are expensive, and I’ve quit both vices over the years. Yes, the times change.
One strong bond Craig and I had was music. Being two years (and a few months) older, he led the way. He was a music fan from an early age, and the early 60s were the golden years of American pop music.
It was also the era when transistor radios were relatively new, but the prices had gone down. He had a small radio that would fit in his shirt pocket and with an ear bud (music was all mono, not stereo), he could listen music any time he wanted.
Craig carried the local paper after school, and while walking his route, he had his radio plugged into his ear.
One sweet old lady on his route knew our grandmother, and told her, “It’s a shame that someone so young has to wear a hearing aid.” Such innocent times we lived in.
Of course, if Craig got interested in something, then I got dragged in (or went willingly most of the time). We talked music a lot, bought the magazines like Hit Parader that printed the lyrics (with horrible typos), and we bought records — 45 RPM singles.
Most songs were called by the first line of the lyrics, even if that wasn’t the title. For example, it’s Christmas season now, and everyone knows “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire.” But that’s not really the title of the song — it’s “The Christmas Song” (creative, huh?).
Craig had a wacky sense of humor, so he would refer to songs by some lyrics that might be deeply buried within the song. Usually I knew what he was talking about. But he would really try to stump me by calling a tune by an obscure rhyme in the last verse. When we started playing guitars, he’d say something like, “Let’s do ‘Loudmouth Yankee.'” I knew he meant the Monkees ‘song “What Am I Doing Hanging ‘Round” that started out with the lyrics:
“Just a loud-mouthed Yankee, I went down to Mexico.”
He could get a laugh out of me by doing something silly — like calling the Elvis Presley song “All Shook Up” by the title “Itching Like A Bug On A Fuzzy Tree.”
With all the transitions in his life, there was always music as a constant. I believe I got my love of music genetically, but it was one of the very strong bonds I had with my brother.
In a rare event, one that could happen only once in every millenium, two insignificant celestial objects colided. That happens often, but this time, it kindled a massive celestial event that shaped the world as we know it.
A young vaudeville wannabe named Joey was going nowhere with his act — a pantomime accompanied by records. He was able to get jobs on the theater circuit in the days before motion pictures put the live stage out of business, but it was a meager living.
Another show-biz climber named Dino had trouble holding a job — the bandleaders said he was too derivative and he needed to get a nose job if he wanted to be serious.
They met while both were on the bill at one of the minor mob-owned clubs in Atlantic City in 1945. The owner wasn’t happy with either one and threatened to fire them if the late show that evening didn’t get better attendance.
Joey went to Dean and proposed that they disrupt the program — they had nothing to lose. So when Dino went out to sing, Joey acted like one of the club’s waiters and caused a commotion by dropping plates and breaking glasses. Dino acted angry and told him to get out and quit disturbing the audience. Joey heckled the singer, the singer heckled back — and the audience loved it.
The pair repeated the orchestrated fiasco three times a night at the club, and word got out that this was the place to go. There were long lines of people waiting to get in. The pair got offers to play other places for more money.
Dino got his nose job. Joey Levitch changed his name to Jerry Lewis — and the rest is history.
For ten years, Martin and Lewis were the top act in show biz. They made movies, they made records, they played sold out performances, they made money — hoo boy did they make a lot of money!
And then, for whatever reasons, they parted — and not on the best of terms.
Then, the world waited to see if either of them could make it alone. Was the singer good enough to compete without the comic?
And the surprise ending to the story is — the comic actually had a gold record before the singer did. The comic’s next movies — basically the same formula with different actors — were successful and the singer’s next movies were flops.
The surprise success of the comic’s singing career depended upon the fragile superstar Judy Garland. Garland had to cancel a performance in Las Vegas (reportedly because of strep throat), and her husband/manager Sid Luft asked Jerry to fill in. Legend has it that 30 year old Jerry — who hadn’t sung alone onstage since he was 5 years old — didn’t know what he could do at the last minute, so he asked what songs Judy was going to sing that night. One was the standard “Rock-A-Bye Your Baby” made famous by Al Jolson — who was Jerry’s idol. They orchestra had the arrangement and was well rehearsed, so Jerry said he’d do that song (he also did “Come Rain Or Come Shine” – a Johnny Mercer/Harold Arlen hit).
Jerry hit the stage, and schmaltzed it up — did his impersonation of Jolie — and the crowd went wild. He told jokes of course, but the musical performance was such a hit that he got an offer to put it out as a record — and that is what launched his solo career.
Meanwhile, Dino was getting buried by the critics for the flop of his first post-Jerry movie, “10,000 Bedrooms” and worse — the movie lost over a million dollars (steep in those days).
But neither success nor failure can erase the historical significance of Martin and Lewis — alone or together.
Jerry’s main contribution to the world was his tireless devotion the the Muscular Dystrophy campaign — which brings us to the reason for this essay:
Another Labor Day without Jerry Lewis is so sad for those of us who grew up catching snatches of his marathon telethon. Fortunately highlights survive and can be easily accessed online. The schmaltz of Jerry Lewis survives — as do his movies and recordings.
Frank Sinatra surprises Jerry by bringing Dino onstage at the telethon 20 years after they split.
For that, we are thankful. And for Labor Day — so sorry, you have to get along without Jer.
I love to sing, and every once in a while — I just can’t help it. I break into song — sometimes in public. Yet despite several arrests and contusions from frustrated music critics (everybody is a critic), I persist.
I have been told (mainly by the other voices in my head) that I once had a good voice. Yet, in my many years experience in show business (hey — celebrities need their lawns mowed, too!) I have found that quality of voice is not of prime importance.
OOOooooohhh!!! That’s Raunchy!
But I’m sure you have noticed some very popular singers — even Very Famous! — who have a rather unpleasant voice. Yet people love them and buy their recordings or watch them on TV and in films.
There are plenty of technically perfect singers. They have tremendous range, and their intonation is laser-accurate. I could name them all day (let’s see — ) … well, you could probably think of your own.
From earlier generations (you might have heard of them), there were very popular personalities who had less-than-perfect voices, and yet had stunning success.
Jimmy Durante was one of those. Everybody loved Durante. He was a lovable old codger, and his voice was pure gravel. He was also very funny. But his biggest hits were sentimental songs. When he sang “Young At Heart,” you could tell he would never put Sinatra out of business. But his wistful demeanor could bring a tear to your eyes. He could also sing “September Song,” and you would shiver with the dread of approaching the end of your mortal journey.
In an entirely another field, Louis Armstrong had not only gravel, but maybe ground glass for vocal cords. Yet he had tremendous hits like “Hello Dolly” and the immortal “Wonderful World” (tell me you don’t cry listening to that!).
Besides the rough voices, there are performers with weak voices — but strong emotional content — such as Fred Astaire. Fred, of course, was the greatest dancer of the golden age of the silver screen. He started out on the stage — Broadway, of course. The musical play was a perfect platform for dancing, but it demanded singing. Though his voice was weak, Fred could give the song pathos, bathos, and Aramis. In fact, the most prominent composers of the day brought their newest songs to him because he always delivered a huge audience — Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, George Gershwin.
Now some voices are just … ummm … hoarse. And I’m not sure that works all the time. Rod Stewart became a rock star with some of his early hits (especially with Jeff Beck and Small Faces), and his kind of voice fit in well. But, as many aging rockers have done, he gravitated toward easy listening and found a niche in the Great American Songbook revival of the first decade of the 2000s. His records were produced by another harsh, hoarse singer, Steve Tyrell (who won a 2004 Grammy for the collaboration). Was it because of “Rod The Mod’s” singing, or because of the beloved standards he sang? Even in his senior-citizen years, Rod has been a sex symbol for adoring fans.
A raspy voice is not entirely the domain of male singers. However, blues singers have used it to some artistic and pleasant ends. Janis Joplin became a legend with her soulful, rasp. Bonnie Tyler’s big hit “Total Eclipse Of The Heart,” sounded like she was ripping the organ from her body — mainly because of the pain in her voice. Melissa Etheridge and Kim Carnes (remember “Betty Davis Eyes?”) make you wonder if they are permanently damaging their vocal cords with such raspy voices. But the queen of the field (in my opinion) is Pat Benetar — whose range goes from operatic to deliciously raunchy.
And Tina Turner can’t be compared to anyone else. She is in her own category — like Irving Berlin is to songwriters.
Joe Cocker is also — for different reasons. He became an object of ridicule because of John Belushi’s imitation and the duet they did on Saturday Night Live. I don’t remember reading what Lennon & McCartney though about his version of “With A Little Help From My Friends” — although they were probably grateful for the royalties he brought in.
Leonard Cohen was mainly about the words — although his songs are melodic (when other singers perform them). He’s achieved sainthood, so we won’t make judgments about his singing quality. It’s kind of like judging a Stradivarius violin with and electronic violin.
Rod McKuen was another songwriter with a raspy voice. His songs were recorded by plenty of other singers with pleasant voices. I’m not sure his versions were very popular. He was, however, nominated for an Oscar for his theme song from “The Prime of Miss Jean Brody.” But plenty of award-winners didn’t break sales records.
Going back in time — Rose Marie (Yes, the same one from Dick Van Dyke) started her career as a child singer with a grown-up voice — Baby Rose Marie — and you can check her out on YouTube.
I guess you might think I’m making excuses if my voice is a little rough around the edges (or straight through), but beautiful singing is in the ear of the beholder, er, belistener, or … well anyway — enjoy music and never apologize, even if you like “Achy Breaky Heart.”
I’ve always loved to read, beginning when my parents and grandparents would read to me. I always looked at the page trying to figure out how they got those great stories from the funny marks on the pages. When I went to school and officially learned to read, I also began my addiction to libraries. At an early age (I can’t remember exactly — maybe 2nd grade) I started walking the paper route. At first, I was apprenticed to my older brother (2 grades ahead of me) and when he got to Jr. High School (7th grade), he quit to participate in after-school athletics. I took on the paper route full time. I had a ritual — starting my route from the newspaper plant, I walked past the Coke bottling plant and got a nickel bottle of Coke (this was LONG ago), and stopped at the Rexall Drug Store and bought a comic book. That’s five days a week (the newspaper wasn’t published on weekends).
You’ve heard of The Golden Age, The Silver Age, and the Bronze Age of comics. This was the Stone Age!
I would read the comic while walking along and delivering the papers. I was rather notorious, as people commented to my parents and grandparents that I always “had a book in my nose” (as one person put it). My preferred brand was DC — Superman and Batman, the Justice League of America, and some of the spin-off books. I wasn’t so much into Marvel, except for the occasional Spider Man. Comics cost a dime! The cost of that habit was 15 cents a day, but I was earning paper-route money, so I could afford that an a movie ticket on Saturday (35 cents). Then, the dirty birds raised the price of comics to 12 cents! Horror of Horrors — and then it didn’t seem too long before the comics were 15 cents! Fortunately, I had an ace up my sleeve. My family spent most weekends in Almena visiting my mother’s side of the family. Denny’s Drug Store had comics for a nickle! How did he do it? Technically, it was illegal. He tore the top few inches off the cover (the title and issue numbers of the book) and gave them to the distributor who gave him credit as if he had sold the comics back to them. He was supposed to dispose of them, thereby saving costs to the distributor for shipping the whole book. But his shady business practices were a boon to comic book lovers! Over they years, I changed as much as comic books changed. Superman went through weird changes. Clark Kent started reporting for a TV station instead of a newspaper. Robin and Batman broke up, and I think there was a NEW Robin to replace him. And comic book prices kept going up. Eventually they became Graphic Novels and were sold in boutique comic shops. But my love of comics really never waned. The movies starting doing more adaptations, some became TV shows … and I remain a fan to this day.
He was known as both The Real King of Rock ‘n’ Roll and The Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll. His rocking records ushered in the age of Rock and Roll years before The Beatles landed in America, with stellar musicians he gave a start to in his band, including James Brown, Billy Preston and Jimi Hendrix.
He was born Richard Wayne Penniman, but was always known as Little Richard.
Learning To WOOOO!
Nobody can deny his influence on that infant form of music starting with his first recording session in 1951. Not Lennon and McCartney, who emulated his falsetto “WOOOOO” in many songs. Not Prince, who styled his pencil-thin mustache, his flamboyant attire, and his performance style on “The Architect Of Rock and Roll.” Not David Bowie, who named Little Richard as the initial inspiration for his biggest ever album, “Let’s Dance.” Not Bobby Zimmerman, who wrote in his 1959 Hibbing, MN high school yearbook “To join Little Richard” underneath his picture (a few years before he became Bob Dylan).
Where do you think Jagger got those moves? Where do you think Elton John learned to pound those keys? Who do you think inspired Glam Rock? And you think Kiss wore a lot of makeup? You should have asked Little Richard about Pancake 19.
He was a wild man, standing up to play the piano so he could dance at the same time — before he got a recording contract, he had to clean up his lyrics:
“Tutti Fruiti, good booty” became “Tutti Fruiti, aw-rootie”
Guilty-wracked as a closeted gay, Richard dropped rock in 1957 and committed himself to preaching the gospel, calling rock the Devil’s music, and recorded a religious album, God Is Real, in 1959.
But the Beatles drew him back into rock and roll when they recorded “Long Tall Sally.” He kept performing his core hits through the next few decades, and found himself in demand as a TV talk show guest (where he would shout “SHUT UP!”) and even a few movies.
In 1976 Little Richard returned to the ministry as a full-time evangelist. His next recording was another gospel album in 1979. In October 1985 he was seriously injured in an accident in West Hollywood. He struggled his way back to rock music and mass popularity.
In 1986 Little Richard was one of the ten original inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and he compiled many other honors.
Stars on the sidewalk — The Hollywood Walk of Fame for Recording The Music City Walk of Fame in Nashville The Apollo Theater Walk of Fame in New York City
Halls of Fame Georgia Music Hall of Fame Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Apollo Theater Hall of Fame Louisiana Music Hall of Fame Blues Hall of Fame Rhythm and Blues Music Hall of Fame
And now, he belongs to the ages, as Ben Johnson said of The Bard of Avon.
Little Richard died May 9, 2020 in Tullahoma, Tennessee, of bone cancer — but the music will never die.
