music (503)

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” Prince, Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne

I just saw this for the first time, thanks to YouTube’s “Up Next” column. What a beautiful song. A young acoustic guitar player in the back, amongst all these superstars, looked just like George, and sure enough, it’s Dhani Harrison, according to the account of this magical musical moment.

I wasn’t prepared for Prince’s solo. Holy shit! And that disappearing guitar at the end. Kind of like Thelma and Louise floating off into the ether at the end of the movie.

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The Ace of Cups!

I somehow missed them back in the day. They were the “girl group” among the ’60s San Francisco bands. Their show at Sweetwater in Mill Valley on Thursday was awesome. Their new double CD album is a killer, impeccably produced, and with Taj Mahal, Bob Weir, Charlie Musselwhite, Jack Casady, David Grisman, and Jorma K. sitting in. Peter Coyote sings a great lead on one song. They write just about all their songs.

They never got their due recognition back in the ’60s, but listening to this brings me back to the Avalon, the Monterey Pop Festival, the wonderful feeling in San Francisco in the ’60s (before “The Summer of Love”).

There are kick-ass rock ‘n’ roll songs, beautiful ballads, Taj sings a short riff, “I don’t do what I outta, I just do what I do” (sounds about right), then the band kicks into a shit-kickin’ “On the Road,” with banjo and soaring fiddle.

It’s interesting that all the other SF groups — The Jefferson Airplane, the Dead, Quicksilver, Big Brother, Moby Grape, etc. — are long gone, and the girls have come rocketing back. If you were there then, trust me — you’ll love this album. (Order it from them and bypass Amazon.)

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Bob Dylan: “Live 75” – Rolling Thunder Road Show


Holy shit! I listened to this (2-CD) album, “Live 75” (Rolling Thunder) album in the 70s and didn’t get it. I didn’t care for the completely different versions of familiar songs.

Now, after listening to it for hours while driving to Big Sur a few weeks ago, I do get it. Sheesh!

Dylan was on fire, his voice never better, the phrasing brilliant. Joan Baez’ harmonies are exquisite. The band is hot.

Plus, I saw the film on Netflix. There have been grumblings about some fictional elements thrown into the film, but hey, just listen to the music. I want to see it on a big screen, but it doesn’t seem to be available anywhere. C’mon, Netflix!

Well, I wanna be your lover, baby,
I don’t wanna be your boss…

For Dylan nuts: “From Don’t Look Back to The Rolling Thunder Review: The Cinema of Bob Dylan” by Peter Sobczynski

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