We who must remain go on living just the same

I could spend all my time writing on this here blog about my heroes dying. Today's installment involves Glenn Frey and Buffin.

Loved The Eagles back in the day. They were my very first concert (well, other some random country and barbershop shows with my Dad) at the then Lock Haven State College in '74. My very first, and a good one at that. Spent many, many hours with their first three albums, especially "On the Border," before drifting away from them. Glen Frey co-authored "Take it Easy" with my man Jackson Browne, and for that, major praise.

Buffin (Dale Griffin to his parents) sat behind the kit for Mott the Hoople, a band I respect and love to this day and maybe the most underrated rock group of the 70s. I never saw them live, but hold several of their albums up as what post-Beatles and Dylan rock and roll should sound like.

Though written by Bernie Leadon about Gram Parsons, this song is a fitting epitaph for both Frey and Buffin, and perhaps for who are already gone and those yet to come.

And the best work ever done by The Eagles.

The 70s: The heat from below can burn your eyes out

The concert advertised at left, which I attended, was so long ago I may have forgotten some of the details.

* Was this the 2nd or 3rd rock concert I went to?
* How was the crowd?
* What were the highlights/was it any good?
* Was this show the reason I dislike Rush?
* Does it prove my 70s rock cred, or what?

My first rock show was The Eagles at Lock Haven State College (more on that soon), about four months prior to this in 1974; I think this triple header was number two.

And look at that lineup. Looking back, I am surprised Blue Oyster Cult were the headliners, although I guess they were more popular than the others at that point in time. And despite what many others might think, I still argue they were the best band on the bill.

Yes, the individual members of Rush are stellar musicians. Great, even. But as I have noted before, the music they make --all progressive and "complex" and deep is just....blah, blah, blah. And Geddy Lee's voice, well, enough said.

Of course, Kiss had explosions and fake blood and kabuki makeup, which were all so interesting to a teenager. But now, it all seems rather silly.

BOC had loud and then louder guitars, Buck Dharma, and "Hot Rails to Hell."

BOC wins.

Testosterone overload, oh so sweet.

In retrospect, this was quite a lineup for one bill, especially in that it was held in a 1,500 or so seat theater. Even in these band's advanced state of decay today (I know, some think these bands are still going strong -- especially Rush), what would a ticket for this show cost now?

Memories for $6.50 -- what a deal.

Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy

Here's another song that makes me smile whenever I hear it – no matter which version it is. Not quite as ubiquitous as “Maggie May” in the real world, but a song of great significance to me.

My first real concert – the Eagles at Lock Haven State College in 1974 – featured "Take it Easy" as the opening number. Bernie Leadon was still in the band, the harmonies were wondrous, and I thought to myself: “so this is what I have been missing,” It was a great introduction to live rock and roll, and a moment that will stay with me forever.

I was already familiar with the song as the opening cut from Jackson Browne’s seminal “For Everyman." Browne’s version is fuller, richer and comforting, like a song you could curl up with on a cool evening, like going home again. This is the pinnacle of the 70s California singer-songwriter era, and I never tire of it.

Of course, just about anything with David Lindley is special anyway.

Is it just me, or does “Take it Easy” sound better and better as the years go by?

God save the rider in the black night

John Lennon was killed 32 years ago tonight. I saw my first concert, The Eagles, 38 years ago at the then Lock Haven State College. "The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle" first hit my turntable 39 years ago, after reading two glorious reviews, one in "Crawdaddy" and another in "Stereo Review." "Moondance" has passed its 42nd anniversary. Forty-eight years have flown by since The Beatles first made my hair stand on end on The Ed Sullivan Show.

The touchstones of my youth seem to be getting further and further away, at least by looking at the calendar. But some still strike major chords with me, and at times more so now than ever.

Take the last couple of hours, for instance. I just spent a good deal of time driving around listening to high art that was recorded more than 40 years ago. At full volume.

No record from the rock era sounds as dense, driven and alive as "Exile on Main Street." It's shot full of vitality, of decadence, of complications. Drenched in the blues, somewhat indecipherable, altogether brilliant and with no small amount of courage, it stands as testament to the power of The Rolling Stones.

When it was released, I listened to it for hours on end driving around on my Torino's 8-track, also at full volume. I had no idea then it would still matter these many years later.

Tonight, it made me feel like there are still possibilities. Still mountains to climb. Still dreams to realize. Still touchstones happening, right now.

If I can only bottle the courage so evident on those 18 tracks.

Got to scrape the shit right off my shoes, indeed.