Spotify playlist:
spoti.fi/3GHVIGi "Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you
"Bookends Theme"
We all live in the past.
The past few days I've been reading this book "Powder Days," by Heather Hansman. After graduating from Colby College she went west to Colorado and became a ski bum. But after a few years she let go, now, years later, she's revisiting all her old haunts and old people, trying to find out if the ski bum life still exists, and how those who were caught up in it have survived.
It was different decades ago. You could make it on minimum wage. And almost nobody was going anywhere fast. You were trying to find yourself, do what felt right. It was hard for our parents to understand, having grown up in an age where you did what you had to, what you were told, to get ahead in the world. But the boomers were the first generation raised in the era of leisure time, when you could think about what you wanted to and do it, when who you were was more important than how much money you had.
It's not that different in the music business. Sure, as the sixties closed it was obvious money was being made in the music business, ergo the consolidation of Warner, Elektra and Atlantic into the Warner Music Group. As a matter of fact, Ahmet Ertegun could never get over the sale, Atlantic was first, he wanted the financial security, but those who sold thereafter got a much better multiple, he believed he'd been ripped off. So when you told your parents you wanted to work in the music business, they were not encouraging. Furthermore, you couldn't start at the top, you couldn't even start in the middle. Your college degree meant nothing. And there was no financial security, no obvious career. To this day it's hard to stay in the music business, then again a whole generation is not eager to get involved. Used to be if you worked at a record label you were a god, inside the machine, privy to Oz. Now, it's just a job.
And it was all because of the music. There's music today, but it doesn't infect people the same way. It doesn't mean the same thing. Back then it was everything, and we counted on our artists to push the envelope each and every time, and they tried to. And we basked in the results.
So on these cold winter nights, well, as cold as it gets in Southern California, it's the quieter music that resonates, that keeps me warm. Not the bombastic in your face productions, but the ones that touch my soul, like Simon & Garfunkel's "Bookends."
Am I the only person who just doesn't love "Bridge Over Troubled Water"? I mean it's okay, but it's just another ballad featuring Art Garfunkel's high voice. Oh, it's more than that, but I'd much rather listen to "The Boxer," on the flip side of that album, which is held up as the duo's paragon of excellence when the truth is that's "Bookends," which came before.
"Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme" was the one that showed us these two were different. That they weren't just recording ditties, but reaching for something more. "Scarborough Fair" is far superior to "Bridge Over Troubled Water" in my book. There's the upbeat "Cloudy" and the reflective "Homeward Bound," but the best track on the album is "For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her," the most beautiful song I know. Go deep beneath the surface and this is every man's dream. The track hovers above the earth, it is not of this world, it's free of the bringdowns, it's life.
And of course there was "7 O'Clock News/Silent Night," which captures the zeitgeist better than any of today's bombastic tracks. Today you can do or say anything, but the end result is usually nothing is said. Whereas "7 O'Clock News/Silent Night" cut right to the heart of society, and everybody was aware of it, even though it was not a hit single and didn't get radio play, this is what happens when you tell your truth holding no punches. Then again, there were many fewer records then.
And then came "Bookends." It's the album with "Mrs. Robinson," but at this point that was seen as a movie song, for "The Graduate," which had come out the year before. And both the song and film are great, but "Bookends" as a whole is even better.
At the time, it was the second side I cottoned to, that i played most. I loved the opening track, "Fakin' It." "Punky's Dilemma"...I could never forget the reference to the Kellogg corn flake but the truth is I didn't love it back in '68, although it grew on me. And then there was the concluding trifecta, "Mrs. Robinson," "A Hazy Shade of Winter" and "At the Zoo"...WHEW!
As for the first side, at first I only cherry-picked "America," which is the best track on the album, which encapsulates a spirit and experience that no longer exists. The dream is no longer to go cross-country, to see America, and now you're never disconnected, you can reach out and touch Mommy & Daddy with your cell phone. Back then once you walked out the front door you were in the ether, disconnected, alone, long distance phone calls were expensive, and you made them once a week, if that.
But I came to love "Save the Life of My Child," with its aside "He's all right," the chaos and changes, you felt you were on the street before "America" took you on a journey.
But then... "Overs" was a downer after "America."
But after that, you had "Voices of Old People," which you only needed to hear a few times and then couldn't tolerate. This was back in the experimental music era, John Cage and so much more. "Revolution 9." That's how the track was viewed.
And the album closed with "Old Friends" and a reprise of the theme song, albeit with lyrics this time.
"Old Friends"... It was slow, sandwiched between that which didn't need to be heard. But there's that one line that every boomer knows, which I've been saying a lot to friends recently, as that dreaded birthday arrives for them, "How terribly strange to be 70."
64 is younger. And the Beatles song was a lark, from the perspective of youth. You really didn't feel the advanced age. But in "Old Friends"...
These were the forgotten people, on park benches, we thought we'd never get there, but we are there now.
When you get to around 70, it's about lifestyle. Good times. Friends. Possessions mean less, as does the culture. You pay attention to the movies, watch TV, but there's nothing you really need to hear or see, and you can always fall back on the classics. And the shenanigans... You realize nothing ever changes, it seems people can't get along, and there are always a few money and power hungry people who cock it all up for everybody else. But at least you'll be gone soon. You think about the long term future, but when there's gridlock you disconnect, I mean you're literally not going to be here.
So now "Old Friends" resonates completely. How prescient Paul Simon was. But what resonates with me most is the "Bookends Theme," which closes out the side.
"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences"
It most certainly was, and we didn't realize how good we had it, that these were our formative years. I'm not talking about high school, but college and your twenties. You questioned, you bonded, you weighed the options, experimented and found your path, whether by choice or default. In your thirties you get serious, before that you still believe everything is up for grabs.
Of course it's different now. People in their twenties have careers, own houses, are saving for retirement. We thought we'd die before we retired, we could not see that far out, absolutely not. But now we're looking back.
I got out. The second year in Utah I realized if I didn't leave then, I never would. And it was hard, but I escaped. You say you can ski on the weekends, take vacations, but that's not the same thing. You've got to hit the hill every day, like a job, the experience counts, you fine tune your skills, after a month you're at the top of your game, having peak experiences, which trump everything else in your life, but is it a life?
Most of the people still doing this in "Powder Days" have sacrificed everything to ski, relationships, children, ownership of houses... They're all in, and it's too late to turn around. But they continued to reach for the stars in this one vertical, whereas most people end up compromising, endlessly.
So what we end up with is our memories. It's personal. We share a bunch with friends, others with family, it's amazing you spent all those years growing up in that house with your siblings, it was so long ago.
And we forget the bad experiences. And believe me, there were plenty. You don't truly become comfortable in your skin until your fifties or sixties. And it's amazing you made it through, especially if you did it your way, so many of those ski bums end up committing suicide, to this day, happened when I was there.
But on one level I'm still there. In the mountains. With room to move. Alone with nature. Hitting peaks you can't reach any other way. Feeling alive.
And you start to realize it could end in a minute. So many are dying, but you become old and frail, and even if you're not cautious there are certain things you can no longer do, or not as well, and you eventually accept this, but not easily.
And throughout it all is these songs. Like I said, it's different for baby boomers. We bought guitars, we sang in a circle. If you weren't there you cannot understand how much the music meant. It was an exciting, transitional period. Kinda like the advent of the internet, but it was based on the arts, music. What you said was more important than what you did. And then you reach a point where no one is interested in what you have to say, you end up not even speaking, it's not worth it, you just keep it all in your head.
And you wake up and you realize you're approaching the bookend. You had birth, you had twenty years of growing up. Now it's twenty years of slowing down. But instead of making friends, they fade away. Instead of your world getting bigger, it gets smaller. And no matter what you do, you cannot stem the tide, it's inevitable.
So to a great degree we live in the past. There's so much of it. Memories are triggered randomly, you could be taking a shower, reading a book or driving your car, a synapse fires and there you are, in that old situation, with those old people, who you never even talk to or see anymore, but once upon a time they were friends.
It's a secret, we all know it but no one talks about it, for fear of being labeled over the hill, discarded, ignored. But the truth is we're all in it together. It's a dilemma. Maybe not Punky's, and society may resemble a zoo more than ever, but Joe DiMaggio sold Mr. Coffee. And Paul Simon wore a turkey suit on Saturday late night TV. And Chevy Chase was once the biggest name in comedy, the irreverent voice of a generation.
On one hand it's hazy, on the other it's perfectly clear. Doesn't matter if we faked it or not, now it's completely real, this is us, we have to accept it, whether we like it or not. But thank god we've got the music to carry us through, it's our theme.
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