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When it comes to music, I've waved the U.K. Rock Team flag my entire life. Okay, I realize those skinny boys stole a lot of riffs and rhythms from their American R&B heroes of the '50s. But there was something about their electric British sound and haughty, mod style that turned me into a Union Jack junkie from my earliest Beatle-loving days. So, in honor of London hosting the 2012 Summer Olympic Games, here is Part One of my series on British rock medal winners: The 1960s Style Icon Competition.
Bass players are the Rodney Dangerfields of the rock world, it seems. I tell ya, they just don't get no respect. And no wonder! On the day after God created rock stars (sometime around 4 am on a gin-soaked Saturday night in Memphis), he created groupies. And he commanded them: "Thou shalt honor thy singer and thy lead guitarist and have no false rock Gods before thee."
Most recording artists in the 1960s were singing about lovin' your brothers and sisters regardless of the color of their skin, but few practiced that ethos better than Sly Stone, who assembled the first - and one of the few - interracial, dual-gender rock bands of the era: the iconic Sly and the Family Stone. They perfectly summed up the generation's quest for total acceptance with their number one hit, "Everyday People," a song that produced one of the most popular catchphrases to emerge from rock culture: "different strokes for different folks." When it came to funkadelic rock and soul, Sly did it first and he did it best. Here's a tribute to him on his 72nd birthday.
"We did it because we loved him." That was the caption under a photo of four smiling Beatles that graced the back cover of a special edition "Paul is Dead" magazine that I bought in 1970. Beatlemania had come and gone, but I wasn't ready to let go - especially of Paul, who was my current favorite. (There's nothing 10-year-old…
White boot, black boot, thigh boot, jack boot. I'll endure the snow, slush, and sub-freezing temperatures of Pittsburgh for the rest of my life, as long as I can wear my pavement-pounding, cockroach-killing, arch-destroying boots. It's the thrill of fashion…and the Agony of De Feet. But I'm still standing. From whence do my sartorial obsessions spring? From rock-n-roll, where else! Forty-eight years ago this month Nancy Sinatra recorded her smash hit "These Boots are Made for Walkin." With it's slinky guitar strut and finger-pointing tough girl lyrics, it quickly became a favorite among my growing collection of 45s. What a way for a six-year-old to learn the fine art of insult and accusation!
