Posted by jeff on Jul 15, 2016 in Personal
, Song Of the week
Welcome Back Kotter, opening credits
Big week coming up for me. Bigger than winning a million dollars in the lottery. Bigger than flying to the moon. Bigger than anything.
My son’s coming back home.
After seven years abroad, on various other sides of the world, N is coming back to the country where he was born, where his great-grandmother was born, where about a hundred generations ago all of his ancestors were born. Where we’ve all been waiting for him. Him and his wonderful wife (daughter in so much more than law) and his five wonderful children, each one of them bearing my grandfather’s name. Well, kind of, but that’s another Ellis Island story.
He’s going to be living 100 km away. Rather than 10,000. Two fucking zeros, in one fell swoop. There’s nothing in the world that could make me happier.
I think that’s cause for celebration. And since I don’t drink champagne on a Friday morning, I’m gonna share a song with you.
Kobi Nahmias: “Now Daddy will always be on my heart.”
N’s motives for returning aren’t completely clear. He keeps his cards close to his chest. He had a great job out there in the diaspora, and he’s coming to a much-coveted one here. But that’s the vehicle, not the tenor. He chose to leave a situation devoutly to be desired by most sane people, in exchange for a cubbyhole in a crazy little corner of the craziest neighborhood in a patently crazy world.
I’m not quite clear just why he’s coming back. To tell the truth, I don’t think he is either. But since he’s never gotten around to explaining his motive (don’t look a gift son in the mouth), I guess I’m free to invent one for him:
Just to be near his dad.
I’m reminded of Kobi Nahmias, who played left midfielder for a 3rd division football club nearby. Kobi had his father’s portrait tattooed right on his left breast. It was the least he could do.
Ok, maybe I don’t expect my kid to go quite that far. You know, Leviticus 19:28 and all that.
But there are other models, musical ones.
Model I: To me he is ev’rything strong; no he can’t do wrong, my dad.
Take, for example, Paul Peterson (b. 1945). Paul started out as a Mouseketeer, appeared in the 1958 film “Houseboat” as the son of Cary Grant and Sophia Loren (that’s some pair of genes!), then went on to find fame, fortune and family as Jeff (no relation) in eight seasons and decades of reruns in 1950s idyllic “Donna Reed Show”. He also shared the upstairs bathroom with his ‘sister’ Mary, Shelly Fabares, she who invented the tight cashmere sweater.
Following the success of TV turning Ozzie and Harriet’s son Ricky (Nelson) into a teenage singing idol, Donna’s real-life husband/producer of the show Tony Owen convinced both Shelly and Paul that they could sing. They were terrified, but he insisted. The result? Shelly’s #1 hit ‘Johnny Angel’, and Paul’s ‘She Can’t Find Her Keys’ and the iconic anthem of filial devotion, ‘My Dad’.
Model II: Just drop by when it’s convenient to, but be sure and call before you do.
I engendered in my son a predilection for orange juice, a Van Dyke beard, and an appreciation of Randy Newman’s first album. His favorite? ‘So Long, Dad’:
Come and see us, Poppa, when you can
There’ll always be a place for my old man.
Just drop by when it’s convenient to
Be sure and call before you do.
Okay, it’s not Koby Nahmias, but he invited me to come whenever I want, didn’t he?
Model III: Welcome back to that same old place that you laughed about
A lot of energy has been invested over the years by those who know and love N speculating on his motives (not to mention his whereabouts). It’s a fruitless labor. He remains a sweet, eccentric, unique enigma.
Perhaps I’ll just resort to my internal data base’s default Coming Home song, John Sebastian’s ‘Welcome Back’. It may not tell the whole story, but it sure reflects one aspect of my feelings and thoughts.
John (b. 1944) was of course the founder and leading force of The Lovin’ Spoonful (‘Do You Believe in Magic’, ‘Daydream’, ‘Summer in the City’, as well as another score of stunning pop poems). He’s always been one of my favorite artists. He was a pioneer of American rock (see SoTW 052, ‘Girl, Beautiful Girl’) and a major force in the rock world (he turned down an invitation to join Crosby, Stills, Nash and Sebastian). He’s one of the wittiest lyricists to come out of the world of rock (‘I could feel I could say what I want, I could nudge her and call her my confidante’). He’s an artist of sensitivity, depth and wisdom (see SoTW 098, ‘Younger Generation’).
He’s also a real mensch. At least his persona in his music is, and I’ve never heard anything to the contrary about him as a person.
Sebastian left The Spoonful in 1968, made a memorable spontaneous appearance at Woodstock in 1969, and released an uneven solo debut album in 1970, with help from friends and a few great songs (‘She’s a Lady’, ‘You’re a Big Boy Now’, ‘How Have You Been’). But he got mired in contractual disputes, and his solo career has been one long downward spiral commercially. Fear not, John made a nice living investing in real estate, and seems to have followed a path of playing the kind of Jug Band and New Acoustic music that he loves.
In 1975, ABC was making a new sitcom tentatively entitled “Kotter”, about a former Sweathog (the remedial class in a lower-class Brooklyn high school) who returns to teach at the selfsame school, trying to try to rehabilitate the current class of idiots, led by Horshack, Boom Boom Washington, Juan Epstein, and Vinnie Barbarino (John Travolta’s breakout role).
Sebastian was invited to write a theme song, and the producers liked it so much they renamed the show “Welcome Back Kotter”. The single went to #1. It was Sebastian’s swan song, but has occupied a warm and tender spot in my heart and that of many a nostalg, as only a Sebastian song can do.
The song even inspired a rap version. And while I’m here, I’m happy to have the opportunity to give a shout for the one other fine song in the album, ‘She’s Funny’, a charming, disarming paean to his lady’s sense of humor.
Every week for five seasons “Welcome Back, Kotter” had a happy ending. But life, Virginia, isn’t a sitcom. Coming back now after seeing The Big World (I mean that literally—the tales of N’s hair-raising and exotic odysseys may someday be told), I know the lad’s going to have a reality bath back in the old neighborhood. I do hope it’s a warm one.
Time will tell. Life, with its inevitable twists and turns, is never as simple as a Hollywood sitcom. But one thing I do know: when they tumble off that plane, all seven of them, they’re going to be welcomed back with the warmest embrace in this whole wide world.
Posted by jeff on May 28, 2015 in Rock
, Song Of the week
Girl, Beautiful Girl, The Lovin’ Spoonful
One weekend night in 1969 I was working the door at the Ludlow Garage, a rock emporium in Cincinnati, when a party of four hotshots approached. The cheesiest of them asked from behind his sunglasses, “This where Mountain is playing?”
And I answered, “Yeah”. That was me, always ready with a rapier comeback.
And he said, “We would like to bestow upon you the honor of inviting us in.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because this,” indicating one member of the group, “is Mr. ***.”
Mr. *** was a young and upcoming director of films from the state of California on the west coast of the United States. I don’t know who the hotshot was trying to impress by dropping that name, because it wouldn’t be recognized by anyone in Cincinnati other than a bored, film-obsessed 21-year old follower of young and obscure directors. Coincidentally, the guy working the door at that moment was a bored, film-obsessed 21-year old follower of young and obscure directors.
So I said over hotshit’s shoulder, directly to Mr. ***, “Mr ***, it would be our pleasure to host you this evening.” (I’m not quite sure from whence I drew the authority to make that decision, but I did.)
Just how obscure was Mr ***? Well, he at that time had two Hollywood films released. The first began as his MA thesis at UCLA film school, but became an $800,000-budget Hollywood release. It was a coming-of-age comic-drama starring a bunch of B- and C-list actors – Peter Kastner (who?) as Bernard, The Innocent; Karen Black (Nicholson’s waitress girlfriend in Five Easy Pieces) as The Good Girl; Elizabeth Hartman as The Bad Girl; Tony Bill as The Friend; and Method-school bluebloods Rip Torn (born Elmore Rual Torn, Jr., nicknamed “Rip” by his father) as The Father, and Geraldine Page (premier interpretress of Tennessee Williams’ heroines) as The Mother. Bernard’s film parents were married in real life as well (well, ‘real’ in Hollywoodian terms.) Their country estate was named Torn Page.
The story takes place at the boy’s place of employ, the labyrinth stacks of the NYC Public Library, which Bernard traverses on roller skates, shelving books and moaning about his lack of a sex life. His friend incites him to rebellion, drugs, and sex, the latter focused on Barbara Darling (Hartman).
But you have to remember that we’re talking 1966 here, and movies like that weren’t made. Establishment ‘youth’ films were still Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello Beach Blanket Bingos. That’s why Richard Lester’s Beatles Hard Day’s Night and his The Knack (and How to Get It) were so mind-blowing for us. Later, in 1967, the The Graduate used the Mrs Robinson soundtrack precisely and evocatively, but it was background music.
That’s why Mr ***’s You’re a Big Boy Now made such an impression on me, and on the other 2000 people who had seen it. It had the unique quality of taking the rock music soundtrack seriously. Written and performed by The Lovin’ Spoonful, the music actually served as a cinematic tool, organically integrated in the goings-on on screen (even more than in Hard Day’s Night.)
Apparently I wasn’t the only one impressed with the use of The Spoonful’s music in the film. The next year, Woody Allen hired them to provide the music to his film What’s Up, Tiger Lily?, in which he took a grade-Z Japanese spy movie and added his own soundtrack, which became the story of agent Phil Moskowitz’s deadly mission to secure the recipe for the world’s greatest egg salad.
You have to remember, this was 1966. The only American rock bands of significance were The Byrds from California, and The Lovin’ Spoonful from New York. By the time of You’re a Big Boy, The Spoonful already had under their collective belts “Do You Believe in Magic?,” “You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice,” “Daydream,” “Summer in the City,” and “Nashville Cats“. Not bad, huh? And lots of their lesser-known songs are just as good.
But I’m not going to deal thoroughly with The Lovin’ Spoonful here, because I’m such a giant John Sebastian fan. He’ll get his own SoTW. Many of them, I hope, because so many of his songs are deeply engraved in my heart and soul and memory. Here we’ll just mention that the song has some pretty darn funky brass, and even strings, juxtaposed with the raucous rockous almost-song, with Sebastian’s knockout lyrics barely noticeable. (Check them out, down at the bottom here.) Sebastian’s lyrics here, as always, are witty, urbane, sly, goofy, charming, and full of surprising delights. The movie score also included the great ‘Darling, Be Home Soon’ (the video shows why Zal already had one foot outside the band) and the title song, later memorably rerecorded by Sebastian solo.
Anyway, after that movie Mr *** had gotten a hack job directing a real-budget Hollywood musical, ‘Finian’s Rainbow’, a rather embarrassing blurp in his filmography. And at the time he came to see Leslie West at The Garage, he had probably finished making his new film which had yet to be released, a way-before-its time road movie about a pregnant, angst-ridden housewife who just gets up and walks out, drives and drives, picks up along the way a hitchhiking former pro football player with mushed brains. They travel together, two lost souls, Shirley Knight and the young and unknown James Caan. But as I said, The Rain People had yet to show in Cincinnati, and my respect and admiration for Mr *** was based solely on what I had seen in You’re a Big Boy Now.
Meanwhile, back at the Garage, during a break, I went up to tell him that.
“Mr. ***,” I said, “I’m an admirer of yours.”
“Thank you,” he said. An auspicious beginning.
“I think that You’re a Big Boy Now is the first movie ever to really use rock music seriously.” He looked at me.
“Like in the first scene [and thank you so much to YouTube for enabling us to revisit it]. The gut-wrenchingly slow zoom in from the far side of the main reading room of the NY Public Library, so quiet you’re not sure the movie has really started until you hear a background cough, no movement, no noise, no activity other than the turning of pages. As still as a tomb. And then the camera ‘zooms’ (crawls, actually) into those big, staid double oak doors. Painfully slowly. And then, Boom! Zal’s slashing, grating guitar chords, as jarring as the opening chord of George’s in that Lester film, as the doors are thrown back, and Barbara Darling comes strutting in, all the movement and brashness and color and music in the world. I think that’s a really fine scene. Never seen anything like it. That’s the way to make a movie that rocks.”
And he looked at me, and said, “You from around here?”
And I said, “Yes.”
And he said, “Well, if you’re ever in California, come look me up.”
Three years later, Francis Ford Coppolla made The Godfather. And the year after that he produced George Lucas’s American Graffiti, which redefined the use of rock music in films.
But even then California was La-La Land for me. When Mr Coppolla was making those movies, I was already settled in Israel, with a wife, kid, mortgage and war on my head.
Well, you never can tell
But you’re looking so well
That I gotta stop and say “How do you do?”
I know it’s a long shot
But judging what she’s got
I’m hoping that my judgment is true
Girl, beautiful girl, can I look at your insides?
Girl, wrapped up in fur, I’m just mad for your outsides!
Mmm, that’s what my inside says
If only I could walk up and tell her
But it seems so far from me to her
And the ground is so unfamiliar
Well I wish that I knew cause I’d be in a stew
If my little speech sounded like a phony line
I know that it’s doubtful cause she’s heard a mouthful
Of ‘come on up and see me sometime’.
Girl, beautiful girl, can I look at your insides?
Girl, wrapped up in fur, I’m just mad for your outsides!
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098: John Sebastian, ‘Younger Generation’
Posted by jeff on May 6, 2011 in Rock
, Song Of the week
the music and the mothers in Nashville.”
“…and I sure am glad I got a chance to say a word about
Nothing in the world pleases me more than to sing the praises of John Sebastian (b. 1944). Except maybe singing the songs of John Sebastian.
John’s not a household name, perhaps. He’s of course best known as leader of The Lovin’ Spoonful, one of the first, best and most successful American groups of the Beatles’ era. (The name comes from Coffee Blues, by Mississippi John Hurt. What does it mean? Heh heh heh. Ask yo’ daddy.) One must remember that in 1965, there were almost no American rock groups around. The Byrds were just starting up, electric Dylan was a bewilderment, and Haight-Ashbury was just a bohemian neighborhood. The future early rock icons were still wallowing in a variety of musical backgrounds – The Byrds and the Grateful Dead in folk, Blood Sweat & Tears in blues and jazz, Paul Revere in a PR office, and Simon and Garfunkel in college. John Sebastian and his buddies were New Yorkers through and through, products of the jug band (1930s, homemade instruments such as a washtub bass, a washboard, spoons, kazoo, and, ah jugs) revival of the 1950s. They called their bag ‘Good Time Music’, and it certainly was. It was also the harbinger of a renaissance of sex, drugs, love and anti-war protests that changed the face of the world.