Enigma: the Mystery of Phil Ochs

Like "superstars" in sports, the moniker "enigma" in music circles has been rendered virtually superfluous by its overuse.  Marc Eliot's Death of a Rebel:  A Biography of Phil Ochs delineates the all-too brief life of a GENUINE musical enigma, Phil Ochs, who hanged himself to death at age 36.  Eliot's work transcends mere biographical rehashes of career vicissitudes; it presents a compelling psychological profile of a revered lyricist/folk singer possessing personality contradictions comparable to Shakespeare's Hamlet.  Eliot's character dissection is twofold:  coverage of Phil's musical career is adroitly complimented by discussion of Phil's political activism.  Through warm, personal reminisces of Phil by friends and peers and an exemplary presentation of the ambience of the Sixties, Eliot challenges the reader to diagnose the cause(s) of Phil's psychological breakdown.  All explanations inherently possess a paucity of conviction, highlighting Eliot's characterization of Phil as an unsolvable enigma.

The book first and foremost presents Phil as a superlative lyricist, capable of protest and introspective songs of high quality.  Pete Seeger, author of 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone?' and (w/ Lee Hays) 'If I Had a Hammer," wrote to Phil:  "I wish I had one-tenth your talent as a songwriter."  London's Melody Maker, the most analytical of music periodicals, cited Phil for his synergism of "Beatles' musicality and Dylan's poetry."  His lyrics expressed an intrinsic part of his personality.  Eliot quotes Phil:  "I write about (issues) out of an inner need for expression, not to change the world.  The roots of my songs are psychological, not political."  This explains Phil's lyrical inconsistency; i.e., some songs variously laud or condemn the protest movement, liberals, JFK, etc.  The wit and creativity of Phil's songs is partially explained by Eliot's characterization of the preadolescent Phil as a dreamer too absorbed with movie screen images of Brando (whom he meets- pages 74-4), Wayne, and Dean to discern reality; the innate ability to simplify and satirize issues to their bare essentials stems partly from Phil's college days at Ohio St. (straight A's) and the political indoctrination espoused by the Marxist father of a college friend.

Phil's true musical roots lied not with folk/protest but with rock-n-roll as practiced by Elvis and Buddy Holly, and his ultimate goals were the decidedly unfolkish ideals of riches and superstardom.  Phil quickly realized he couldn't acquire Dylan's status as institution solely through folk.  Eliot quotes Paul Rothchild, producer of Phil's first three albums:  "(Phil's voice) was too cultured.  It wasn't 'of the people' enough.  It wasn't Pete Seeger or Woody Guthrie; it sounded too trained."  So, Phil rejected Dylan's abandoned throne, and followed the latter's conversion to folk-rock.  After signing a lucrative contract with A&M Records and the release of two successful records, Phil destroyed his pop commercial viability through his (to me) heroic role in the fiasco of Chicago, 1968, and alienated his legions of folk fans by dressing in a gold lame suit in Carnegie Hall in 1970 by singing Elvis and Buddy Holly tunes.  Phil had great talent and, yet, couldn't find a suitable musical genre to express himself- an unpalatable proposition for a genius.

Politics were truly a double-edged sword for Phil, providing fodder for some of his best songs and planting the seeds for the irreversible writer's block, paranoia, manic depression, and split personas that plagued Phil's final years.  Eliot gives the reader the flavor of the Sixties' student movement through the eyes of one of its leading practitioners.  Eliot shows how the ideals and dreams Phil possessed were shattered many times and the personal trauma this created- in Mississippi, in Chicago '68, and in Chile in 1973 with the overthrow and murder of that country's elected socialist president Salvador Allende.  Phil's frustration and resignation with the failure of the Left had a masochistic effect, leading to self-effacing and self-destructive behavior.  Eliot also highlights fascinating political idiosyncrasies of Phil's; he implicitly understood music and students couldn't change the attitude of the middle class and yet publicly espoused its value.  He later proclaimed the need for an Elvis Presley-type to become a Che Guevara of the Left, leading to the lame suit concert whose negative response confused and hurt Phil deeply.  Political and social issues made Phil musically and broke him spiritually.

The most attractive feature of the book is its objective feel.  The author's love of Phil's music, wit, activism, and sincerity is balanced by discussion of the repugnant last years of Phil's life.  Phil's excessive drinking, spurts of anger and violence at loved ones, and his creation of an evil alter ego, John Train ("I live outside of the law!") are discussed in an intimate manner that allows the reader to spiral and careen with Phil/John to the bitter end.  Eliot passes no opinions or judgments; instead, he allows the readers to draw their own conclusions.

Eliot spent 18 months tracking down colleagues of Phil and retracting Phil's steps.  The result is a thorough, in-depth profile unprecedented in pop literature.  Phil will always remain an enigma, but Eliot gives us warm, personal clues to solve an unsolvable genius.  Phil will forever be remembered for his music, his candidness, and his mystique.

 

 

 

 

 

The Perils of Going Viral

These days, much of social media frustrates and vexes me. Uncouth language, a lack of compassion, an annoying overuse of internet clichés ("epic fail," etc.), and an inability to read past the headline all tempt me to raise my voice- a voice crying in the wilderness, but a voice nonetheless. However, it took a letter written by a self-congratulatory parent to a school administrator that (wait for it) "went viral" which spurred me to write my first blog in over two years.

  

A Pennsylvania parent named Mike Rossi, apparently vexed at a brief, didactic letter mailed to him by an elementary school principal informing him that the three days missed by his children during the school year for a family trip to Boston to watch him run in the 2015 Boston Marathon would not be excused, decided to post onto Facebook the letter and his written response.

  

Mr. Rossi's response began with, in essence, a belittling of the value of going to school by claiming his children "learned as much in the five days (in Boston) as they would in an entire year of school." Hmmm.  Interesting. Is he saying that we can phase out the 180-day school year in favor of a five-day sojourn to Boston (a pleasant notion for most kids)?  Is this the secret of those countries currently ranked ahead of the United States in education?

  

More trip rationalization followed: "Our children had a once-in-a-lifetime experience (that) can't be duplicated in a classroom or read in a book." Echoing this notion, mirabile dictu, schools agree that some educational experiences cannot be duplicated in a classroom setting, which is why field (class) trips, where school officials agree to let a class or an entire grade enjoy a common learning experience outside of school grounds, were invented.

  

Mr. Rossi continued: "In the 3 days of school they missed (which consisted of standardized testing that they could take any time) they learned about dedication, commitment, love, perseverance, overcoming adversity, civic pride, patriotism, American history, culinary arts (culinary arts?), and physical education." Generally speaking, for obvious reasons, "standardized testing" should be administered to each student at the same time, which is why the same S.A.T. questions are not given on different test days.  However, as the exact nature of the standardized testing was not made clear, let's move along...

  

The next paragraph explained the true motivation for this entire enterprise: "(My kids) watched their father overcome injury, bad weather, the death of a loved one and many other obstacles to achieve an important personal goal." Actually, Mr. Rossi is not alone in the running community in attaching great importance to the value of their somewhat (I have to admit, being a runner myself- albeit one who will not qualify for the Boston Marathon anytime soon) self-indulgent running endeavors. More than one runner believes that each run they complete is a lasting inspiration to the lives of others.

  

One cannot quibble with the next three paragraphs: "They also experienced first-hand the love and support of thousands of others cheering on people with a common goal.

  

At the marathon, they watched blind runners, runners with prosthetic limbs and debilitating diseases and people running to raise money for great causes run in the most prestigious and historic marathon in the world.

  

They also paid tribute to the victims of a senseless act of terrorism and learned that no matter what evil may occur, terrorists can not deter the American spirit."

  

Redundancy followed ("These are things they won't ever truly learn in the classroom"), in case one did not understand beforehand that certain things cannot be learned in a classroom, or read in a book.

  

Details on the part of the vacation that most closely resembled a school class trip came next: "Our children walked the Freedom Trail, visited the site of the Boston Tea Party, the Boston Massacre and the graves of several signers of the Declaration of Independence... They also visited an aquarium (presumably the New England Aquarium), sampled great cuisine (presumably not the marine life at the New England Aquarium. Stop. Wait. Is this what he meant by "culinary arts"?) and spent many hours of physical activity walking and swimming." Now, I certainly see great educational merit in walking the Freedom Trail, which I did back in 1998, and I loved the New England Aquarium, by far the best aquarium I ever saw, and I encourage all families to travel to Historic Boston during spring or summer vacation.

  

However, making this trek during the school year is another matter. I wonder if the conservatives (the faction that responded most favorably to this letter, and who probably to a person consider themselves those who "play by the rules.") who relished both the subtle devaluation of education and the patriotic images of the letter would have responded as favorably if a parent had instead posted a letter explaining why they decided to pull their child out of school for three days to drive to Washington D.C. for a mass protest against, say, police brutality or a war and to drive around poorer neighborhoods, an experience that some would find just as patriotic and educational as the Boston trip of the Family Rossi.

After a brief blurb contradicting the first two paragraphs of the letter ("We appreciate the efforts of the wonderful teachers and staff and cherish the education they are receiving at Rydal Elementary School. We truly love our school"), Mr. Rossi reaffirmed the validity of the trip ("But I wouldn't hesitate to pull them out of school again for an experience like the one they had this past week."), a voyage that would have never been made if he hadn't "qualified" for the Boston Marathon (see epilogue), auxiliary benefits of the excursion aside.

  

He ended the letter with "Michael Rossi, Father," presumably because the elementary school principal dared to end her letter with "Rochelle Marbury, Principal," as if the principal should not have identified her position to distinguish herself from, say, the assistant principal or the janitor.

  

(Epilogue: there is now some doubt as to whether Mr. Rossi had even legitimately qualified for the Boston Marathon.  Please visit the website Letsrun dot com for some interesting circumstantial evidence. The lesson is this: if you take great pains to glorify yourself through Social Media, "haters" will take great pains of sometimes greater proportion to nullify these efforts.)

Alligators to the Rescue- the Dangers of Extinction

Although I love all my cats as if they're my own children, my favorite animals have always been crocodiles and alligators.  I can lie and point to their resiliency, slyness, toughness, and adaptability as an excuse to like these prehistoric creatures so, but the truth is that I just find crocodiles and alligators adorable.  What an animal encyclopedia described as a "menacing grin," I find irresistibly cute.

My nuclear family, who had to deal with my stuffed crocodiles Alvin and Albert and with my heart melting whenever I saw a crocodile or alligator on television or at a zoo, accepted my peculiar love for crocodiles and alligators. During happier times, my wife once won a five-foot stuffed crocodile at Hershey Park and then refused all offers made there for it, having my stepdaughter's then-boyfriend carry it all around the park (I hope that wasn't why he and she broke up...), just to be able to present it to me (I named him Alfonso).  Even during our most emotional disagreements, my wife still showed a soft spot and encouraged me to realize my oft-articulated dream of going into a swamp in the South or to a water hole in Africa and give a real-life alligator or crocodile a hug.  All husbands should be fortunate to have enjoyed such a wife's love.

Because of my love for these adorable reptiles, any news story involving them may pique my interest.  One day, while on the Internet, I came across a feature on a study involving a potential medical advancement involving alligators.  Scientists in Louisiana had observed that alligators, who typically suffer severe cuts while clashing with each other over mates and territory in bacteria-infested swamps, rarely died of infections.  The scientists believed that peptides, fragments of proteins found in alligator blood, helped defend the alligators from infections.

With this hypothesis, the scientists created an alligator serum from the peptides and exposed both it and a human serum to 23 strains of bacteria.  The human serum destroyed eight strains of bacteria.  The alligator serum destroyed all 23 strains, including MRSA, a strain highly-resistant to drugs.  The alligator serum even killed a good part of the HIV virus.

Based on the study, the researchers believed that pills and creams containing these peptides could eventually be marketed.  The products, the story asserted, "would be a boon to patients that need extra help preventing infections, such as diabetes patients with foot ulcers, burn victims, and people suffering from auto-immune diseases."  So, what's the hold up with this wonder drug?  Some typical bureaucratic FDA roadblocks, perhaps? Well, not exactly.  Actually, the alligator serum created is thus far too toxic for human cells.

So, why did I bore you, dear reader, with a self-indulgent tale of my love for crocodiles that spiraled into an optimistic study, leading only to naught?  Because THAT'S HOW SCIENCE ADVANCES! A scientist makes an observation that, in hindsight, seems obvious and develops a hypothesis from it and, through trial-and-error, hints at a panacea that can improve our lives. Eventually, we will learn how to harness the potency of these alligator peptides for practical use.

And, thank God, we have the crocodiles around to make these elementary observations on, but what about the animals and plants now extinct?  The Dodo, Thylacin, Emperor Rat, Chinese River Dolphin, the English Wolf, the Caspian and Javan Tigers, Stellar's Sea Cow, the Quagga- they're all gone.  Last year, the Japanese River Otter became extinct, a development that, in retrospect, will be far more significant than the trivial news items we fuss over.

In 1998, there were 854 animals and 909 plants on the Endangered Species List.  In 2012, those numbers jumped to 2129 and 1821, respectively.  Isn't it conceivable that the habits of animals on this list, such as the Angel Shark, the Javan Rhino, the Geometric Tortoise, and especially the Hainan Gibbon (part of the primate family), can be observed in such a manner as to lead to a medical breakthrough?  More to the point, isn't it conceivable that at least one of the plants on this list may contain a medicinal property that can lead to a cure for cancer, ALS, and other diseases?  Since extinct animals and plants benefit no one, isn't it in our self-interest to keep these creatures around "just-in-case"? *See answers below

So, get involved!  There are many wonderful charitable organizations to which I belong dedicated to promoting conservation efforts and animal welfare, such as the World Wildlife Fund, the National Wildlife Federation, the Nature Conservancy, the Waterkeeper Alliance, and so forth.  If you don't wish to become a member, that's fine, but take the time to at least visit one of their websites and learn about their work.  You will be better for it.

* Yes, Yes, Yes

My Favorite Monkee Davy Jones

It's been over a year, but I still cannot believe that Monkee Davy Jones is dead. I had first learned of his premature passing on that terrible February 29th last year via a Facebook post, and cried for a good while. As I watched episodes of the Monkees reruns and listened to my Monkees music collection as the days passed, I realized that, although I was not even alive during the height of his popularity, no celebrity will ever mean more to me than Davy Jones.

During summer vacation in Maine in 1979, I was playing billiards with my cousin Peter in his basement. Peter put on his turntable a record by a group I had never before heard, the Monkees' eponymous 1966 debut album. To my musically unsophisticated nine-year old ears, I liked what I was hearing, and also liked the other Monkees album he had, the Monkees' second LP More of the Monkees. Always on the prowl for the obscure to like, I taped both LPs on cassette, and wanted to learn more about the group.

Back then, both music and biographical information about the Monkees was hard to come by. I treasured my first Monkees 45 (a reissue featuring the Monkees Theme/Last Train to Clarksville). I distinctly recall my first-ever purchase of a Monkees LP, the Monkees Greatest Hits, and remember asking for and getting the Monkees Greatest Hits, Volume 2 one Christmas. I remembered being thrilled to see the Monkees featured in a segment on an ABC summer replacement series titled "Whatever Became Of?" and enjoyed Davy Jones' appearances on Scooby Doo and on the Brady Bunch. I pronouced myself a Monkees fan, which caused me no small amount of ridicule from my peers on the basis of their name alone.

The dearth of accessible Monkees-related output started to change when Rhino Records reissued Monkees' LPs. I saw a Rhino cassette of More of the Monkees in Sam Goody's, and asked my mother to buy it for me. 1985 saw the release of the Monkees Tale by Eric Lefcowitz, the first serious biography ever penned about the group.

1986 was the big comeback year for the Monkees, when a 20th anniversary reunion tour coincided with MTV running a weekend marathon of their innovative series, sparking an immediate Monkees revival. Suddenly, the Rhino album reissues were charting, and everyone knew the Monkees. And LOVED the Monkees. I felt vindicated.

As the Monkees' popularity increased, a strange internal dichotomy appeared. Although I prided myself on being different and, although it would have been more hip to declare the witty extrovert Micky Dolenz, the most musically-authentic Peter Tork, or the principled Mike Nesmith my favorite Monkee, Davy Jones, the most popular member and one of the biggest teen idols in pop-rock history, was still the one I liked the most.

I liked Davy because he was as authentic as a teen idol could be. Although Davy began to write songs only after the critical backlash the Monkees faced in 1967 for not playing on their first two albums, he understood that he was an actor and an entertainer more than an ambitious "aritist." Rather than yearning to direct, as the other Monkees did during the original series run, Davy unpretentiously admitted, "I'm best directed." Although as popular as any celebrity during the Monkees heyday, Davy had no public meltdowns, never succumbed to the trappings of rock stardom, never embraced the excesses of that era, and carried himself with a simple dignity that reflected his working-class English roots.

I saw Davy in concert on four separate occasions, and found him to be the most accessible celebrity I ever met. The first occasion was a solo appearance at a free concert at Smith Point Beach, NY (aborted by a driving rainstorm), the second a Monkees 1997 concert appearance at the Westbury Music Fair in Westbury, NY (a show where I simply marked out after Davy replicated a signature shuffle first seen during the Monkees 1967 video clip of Daydream Believer). I met Davy for the first time in 2001 after a Monkees concert in Portland, Maine. After the show, Davy came out to greet all the fans who waited, signing anything (including my then-girlfriend's chest!), and posing for pictures with anyone who wanted one, a gesture he repeated when I saw him for the fourth and last time during a solo appearance in Wilmington, DE in 2005, as gracious and friendly to everyone as ever.
More than any celebrity that I'm aware of, Davy appreciated his legions of loyal fans, understood their importance in his life (and he in their lives), and, without any fanfare, gave FAR MORE than someone of his status needed to, regardless of the locale. "You can't ever forget your reponsibility to your fans," wrote Davy. (For an exemplar of the wonderfulness of Davy's heart, please read the following link: http://www.azcentral.com/thingstodo/music/articles/20120313davy-jones-monkees-rhonda-cook-phoenix-cave-creek.html).

Davy was quite underrated as a performer. The 58 episodes from the two-year run of the Monkees television series, which feature Davy's versatility and comic talent, are as fresh, innovative, and effervescent today as they appeared when the comedy premiered back in 1966. The Monkees' only motion picture, Head (1968), is one of the greatest rock movies ever released and, unlike most features in that genre, can withstand repeated viewings. Surprisingly (given the critical reception during their heyday), the Monkees' music holds up just about as well as any music released during that era. While no LP in the Monkees catalog is entirely unassailable (Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, and Jones (1967) and the Head soundtrack (1968) come the closest, in this writer's opinion), each release has several stand-out moments and are warmly recommended. Among Davy's shining moments on vinyl include gritty pop (Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow), She Hangs Out, Valleri, and the unreleased Love to Love), comedy (This Just Doesn't Seem to be My Day, Laugh), Tin Pan Alley (the Nilsson tunes Cuddly Toy and Daddy's Song- for the latter, the movie version is superior to the track released on LP), self-penned tunes (the underrated the Poster, the rocker You and I (featuring one Neil Young on guitar), the unreleased Changes), Someday Man, and the song for which Davy will forever be linked, Daydream Believer. 

Thank you, David Thomas Jones, for being a great entertainer, a great father to your daughters, and, forever, My Favorite Monkee.

Thoughts on Newtown- Sandy Hook

With the recent horrific mass murder at an elementary school in Newtown, CT, Americans are wondering just what exactly IS going on in our country, hoping that this latest tragedy is not a mere preliminary apex of a horrible trend that could get even worse.  Well, I certainly cannot identify precisely what is going on, but I can certainly point out some existing conditions, in no particular order, that create a climate where these events are more likely to occur.

There's a devaluation of life, both in the celebration of the hunting of innocent animals for "sport" and in the legalization of the murder of the unborn.

There's the NRA, an organization that has bastardized the Second Amendment to the extent of allowing the general public access to high-powered, rapid-firing weapons.

There are pro-Choice advocates, who defend a woman's "right-to-choose," some of whom even bemoan occasions when the number of abortions trend downward.

We have a culture of extremism, where video games, various forms of entertainment (music, movies, TV, porn), sports, etc are becoming more violent, more graphic, more sexual, and more permissive under the guise of Free Speech (AKA-making a buck) for a unsatiated nation eager for an even more intense level of absolute crap. (A point I cannot resist making, although it does not really fit into the theme of this blog: notice how conservatives who attack 1st Amendment Free Speech rights and liberals who attack the 2nd Amendment state how the Founding Fathers could not have foreseen the weaponry or the forms of mass media that would be invented when drafting the U.S. Constitution but point to the Fathers' wisdom when the amendment validates their interests?)

It's a culture that values our worth based on being "somebody," with fatuous definitions of what it truly means, as a philosophical friend asks, to be good and to be happy.

It's a culture which demonstrates with increasing frequency that the line between celebrity and notoriety gets weaker and weaker, and that pathways to fame require not superior skill honed by hard work or by making a positive contribution to the greater good of society, but through boorish, stupid, and/or extreme behavior.

It's the deemphasis of the sense of us as a united nation, of community, and of patriotism, a trend that began in the late 1960's, and accelerated rapidly by the Internet, social media, and political extremism.  We are now encouraged to highlight what makes us "unique" at the expense of what binds us together, at least until a tragedy such as 9/11 or Newtown "reminds" us that, hey, we are all in this thing.

It's the deemphasis of God in society.  Whether those who believe God is as real as Kris Kringle care to admit it or not, learning about Jesus Christ's teachings and the Ten Commandments serves as a wonderful exemplar of thinking morally.  Empathy and the Golden Rule are also exemplars.

It's many not being taught to think of each individual as someone who has value, who's capable of love, with feelings and goals and dreams and families who they love and who love them (and how sad it is if they do not have this)- instead converted nowadays to faceless casualities of the collaterial damage of war and faceless statistics of laid-off workers of the collateral damage of a heartless, out-of-whack economy based on what your stock is worth.

It's the decline of the family, it's living in a country that LOVES its guns (the recent Black Friday period saw 283,000+ guns sold, a record for Black Fridays), it's where a large portion of the population believes the solution to preventing violence is more guns, despite the statistics showing that guns are a mere solution to violence (note difference), it's, it's,...it seems as if, instead of attempting to find THE reason why extreme events such as Newtown occur, I decided to use the tragedy as an excuse to list some gripes.  However, when extreme events occur, they seem to occur mostly in our increasingly extreme country, and when I read the solution of many for preventing further Newtowns is to arm school personnel, I know not a damned thing has been learned.

In Defense of Mike Love

Due to the well-established mystique surrounding Brian Wilson, Mike Love has not received the proper recognition for his role in the Beach Boys' success. Since the group's inception, through the rise, decline, and eventual comeback in the mid-70's of the Beach Boys-through the legal hassles, drug abuse, and breakdowns of others in the band, Love has remained the constant, reliable presence. Although, ultimately, Brian Wilson deserves (and receives!) the lion's share of the credit for the Beach Boys, Mike Love's contributions should never be overlooked in the manner that they currently are.

Love contributed much to the Beach Boys' musical legacy. He co-wrote (with Brian) most of the early hits (I Get Around, Help Me Rhonda, Fun Fun Fun, Wendy, Be True to Your School, Little Honda, Shut Down, Dance Dance Dance, Little Deuce Coupe, Little Saint Nick, When I Grow Up, California Girls, Good Vibrations), as well as some of the sturdier LP cuts (the Warmth of the Sun, All Summer Long, Do You Remember?, Drive-In, Don't Back Down, 409, Catch a Wave, Farmer's Daughter, Hawaii) from that period. It was a travesty for Love not to receive co-writing credit for California Girls after having written the memorable lyrics for it (as it was equally ridiculous for Chuck Berry to eventually receive 100% credit for Surfin' USA). Love also co-wrote some of the better Beach Boys tracks during their period of commercial decline (Meant For You, Transcendental Meditation, Do It Again, Add Some Music, Cool Cool Water, California Saga [Big Sur]). He supplied the background bass vocals for Good Vibrations, I Can Hear Music, and countless other songs, and sang lead on many of the hits. He even played the sax on Shut Down! Love's musical contributions should not be underestimated. As Terry Melcher (producer of the early Byrds and early Paul Revere and the Raiders) stated, Love is a powerful musical force.

It can also be argued that Love's commercial sensibilities equaled Brian's, and were perhaps even stronger. It was Love who gave the lyrical accessibility to some of Brian's most memorable arrangements (California Girls, some key lines to Good Vibrations- done under time pressure) and who expressed skepticism that the Pet Sounds/Smile-Era ambitions were straying away from what made the Beach Boys commercially successful (I'm NOT suggesting, though, that Brian shouldn't have followed this direction!). It's no coincidence that the highest-charting Beach Boys single from 1968 until 1976's Rock-and-Roll Music was Do It Again, a co-written effort whose lyrics scream Mike Love (and features Brian's remarkable falsetto simulation of a trumpet) and that, of the four Beach Boys Number One singles (I Get Around, Help Me Rhonda, Good Vibrations [to be fair, this song is at least 85% Brian], and Kokomo), only Love shares a co-writing credit on each. Brian also gives Mike credit for encouraging them to compose their own songs, and this alone should ensure Love's place in rock history.

Love should also be given primary credit for helping the Beach Boys stay viable for half-a-century- through Brian's withdrawals, through Dennis Wilson's self-destruction, through the personnel changes, and a steep commercial decline with dwindling audiences (one show in New York featured fewer than 500 spectators), Mike was there, trying to keep it all together. While Brian stayed in California, Mike was the emcee and front man on all the tours, giving his all in every appearance, including gutsy shows at the Fillmore East in 1971 as surprise guests at a Grateful Dead concert (at that time, certainly not a Beach Boys audience), and in Czechoslovakia just after the Soviet invasion in 1968. Perhaps Love's most subtle contribution, which had a profound impact on keeping the Beach Boys name alive, was a suggestion in 1974 to Capitol Records to title a proposed Beach Boys greatest hits compilation Endless Summer, which hit #1 in part because of the name, spent nearly three years on the charts, and sparked an immediate revival for the group, culminating in stadium concerts.

It's easy to diminish Love's role in the Beach Boys story when under the spell of the personality of Brian Wilson. I, myself, am a huge Brian fan, attending his Pet Sounds show at Jones Beach in 2000 and a show in Holmdel, New Jersey during the 2004 Smile tour. Exposure in 1993 to Endless Summer helped me cope with a break-up (in particular, I recall the songs Don't Worry Baby and Let Him Run Wild having a huge impact). Many artists are admired, but few are as loved in the manner that Brian's fans love Brian. Brian is the personification of authentic, untainted innocence, almost like a man-child of sorts, to which men-children such as myself and other Brian Wilson fans I know can relate. Fans such as myself empathized with the painful anecdotes of his suffering and withdrawal from public life, as if we were suffering right alongside this beautiful man, typically ill-at-ease in public, not really quite understood by others, indeed just not made for these times. "He was just the sweetest, most naive guy- so honest and sincere," recalled his wife Melinda after first meeting Brian, and we all agree. Compare this idyllic and accurate portrait of this great artist to the extroverted showman and more practical Mike Love, and it's easy to underrate Mike Love as an artist.

I believe that Brian IS a musical genius, but do not buy attempts to portray Love as Salieri to Wilson's Mozart on the basis of the non-release of Smile back in 1967. There were several different reasons Wilson (and others) gave for abandoning the project, but to assign Love not liking the lyrics on the Smile tracks as the main reason makes no sense- why, then, was Heroes and Villians released as a single, inferior versions of Wonderful and My Vegetables released on Smiley Smile, and other Smile tracks (Our Prayer, Cabinessence, Surf's Up) released on other albums?

Mike Love is not perfect. His speech at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was regrettable and, in hindsight, we wish he had encouraged the Smile ambitions, just to see what could have been produced when the ideas were fresh in the minds of Brian and Van Dyke Parks (not that any encouragement would have guaranteed the album would have been released in 1967). However, Love played a crucial role in the history of the Beach Boys and should be given proper credit for this.

Charlie Sheen vs The Troops

Recently, while logged onto Facebook, I saw this status update featured on a friend's profile, almost assuredly a repost of someone else's original post many reposts ago:


"Charlie Sheen, 47, is all over the news because he's a celebrity drug addict and a self-centered egomaniac. Meanwhile, Andrew Wilfahrt, 31, Brian Taboda, 21, Rudolph Hizon, 22, Chauncy Mays, 25, David Fahey Jr., 23, and Christopher Gould, 25, are soldiers who gave their lives this past week with no media mention. Please honor them by posting this as your status for a little while."


Now, how can one find fault with such a seemingly noble post that apparently keeps things in perspective for us superficial Americans? Well, those who know me well know that I'm just the man for the job.


The post, rather than honoring the deceased soldiers, trivializes their sacrifice by using their deaths to make an obvious point about the media's fascination with celebrity. As a result, the focus shifts from the six who tragically lost their lives for an increasingly muddled cause to the allegedly profound insight of the poster. The poster, in making a point of how our society is distracted by celebrity, ironically distracts us from focusing on the deceased soldiers. It's significant that, of all the responses to the post, not one comment lamented the deaths of the soldiers and the pain and anguish their loved ones must have been going through. In fact, all the responses were overwhelmingly trivial, an inevitable response to triviality.


It's imposible to discern the motivation behind the original poster. A skeptic might claim the poster was either attempting to show how insightful and thoughtful they are, awaiting applause for their wonderfulness. Perhaps the poster did it for the pleasure of knowing that something they posted would be unthinkingly reposted by many. Or, possibly, the poster did it to feel good about themselves, being too busy to write a letter to their local congressman or congresswoman articulating disapproval of the shoddy treatment to which soldiers, veterans, and military widows are subjected as a matter of policy. Or, a combination of the three.


On the hypothetical possibility that the poster TRULY wanted to honor the deceased soldiers rather than make an obvious comment on society, this is what should have been stated: "Andrew Wilfahrt, 31, Brian Taboda, 21, Rudolph Hizon, 22, Chauncy Mays, 25, David Fahey Jr., 23, and Christopher Gould, 25, are soldiers who gave their lives this past week. Please honor them by posting this as your status for a little while." This post, instead of making the point for the reader, challenges the reader to come to their own conclusions (if any) and hones their focus where it should be, on the dead soldiers. The post, stripped of the pretensions of the original author, becomes more poignant and is much more likely to keep the troops and their families in our thoughts and prayers. It worked for me.