Brits Beyond The Beatles & Stones

Hey, Pete: So Glad You Didn’t F-F-Fade Away

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“Pete Townshend’s suicide note” is how music critic Roy Carr once described The Who’s October 1975 release “The Who By Numbers.” The band’s founder, songwriter and lead guitarist bared his tortured soul on this LP like no other. Yer blogger bought the record at the height of her teenage existential crisis…and needless to say, she loved it.

Ian McLagan: I Had Me a Real Good Time

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“Had me a real good time.” That’s the title of a song by Faces, and it totally sums up my feelings every time I rock and roll to the music of that premier British bar band. Their keyboard player Ian McLagan, who died suddenly of a stroke on December 3, 2014, would have been 70 today. I know I refer to a lot of performers as “my favorite” this or that, but you can be certain of this: “Mac” was my favorite band keyboardist. I was thrilled to meet the charismatic musician in June 2013 after his intimate gig at The Tin Angel in Philadelphia (I even got a kiss – Ooh la la!).

Remembering Alexis Korner, Founding Father of British Blues

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In the early 1960s, in a foggy land far from the steamy Mississippi Delta, there lived a small band of missionaries who spread the gospel of American blues music to British artists seeking spiritual enlightenment beyond the pulpit of mindless pop and traditional jazz. Alexis Korner, born on this date in 1928, was among those prophets. He formed England’s first amplified R&B/blues band, Blues Incorporated, with fellow musician Cyril Davies in 1961. Band members included now legendary performers such as drummer Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones, keyboardist Graham Bond, singer Long John Baldry, and singer/guitarist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker of Cream.

Queen, February 20, 1976: The Show I Missed; the Program I Prized.

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Question: what’s the next best thing to seeing your favorite artist perform at a rock concert? Answer: receiving a copy of the show’s program from a friend who attended the gig. Okay, I know that’s a stretch. Sure, you can drool over a concert program all you like, flip its pages till they fall out, and take it to bed and read it under the covers with a flashlight. But it will never sing to you. It won’t make your ears ring for hours on end. And it will never blind you with pyrotechnics. Nevertheless, I experienced a true rock-shock when my friend Tony Vigliotti walked into sixth period French class and presented me with a souvenir concert program from the Queen show he’d seen the night before at Pittsburgh’s Stanley Theater. Nobody but a fellow rockaholic like Tony could have imagined how much I wanted to see that concert.