03.01: Out of the ashes of the '60s came many great rock bands. Many people identify themselves, their world views, their temperaments and predispositions by aligning themselves with either The Rolling Stones or The Beatles. "Beatles or Stones?", we've been asked on many an occasion, sitting at a bar, contemplating life through goggles of beer. We refuse to answer that question. Instead we ask, "What about The Who?" This stumps a lot of people, them of short attention spans, them who think that '60s rock lived and died by the output of Mick and Keith and John and Paul. Hooey, we say. Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend, Keith Moon, and John Entwistle put out music just as vibrant, remarkable, and timeless as those other guys. From The Who Sellout to Tommy (both brilliant albums), The Who knew how to rock a recording studio just as well as they knew how to rock a stage. These guys had it. And up front, Daltrey strutted around every stage like he owned it, like it was his to do with as he pleased, like he was about the beat the crap out of it (which he and the guys did on many occasions). Why do we bring this up? Today is Roger's birthday, as he joined us on this day in 1944. So, in honor of Roger's b-day, next time someone asks you to choose sides between The Stones or The Beatles, just say, "The Who."
03.02: We remember being in 8th grade, on a school ski-trip, jamming out to Slippery When Wet on our Walkman (look it up, whippersnappers), singing along to "Wanted Dead Or Alive," knowing full well that there could never be a band as great as Bon Jovi. Alright, we know we just dated ourself with that little blast from the past, but it doesn't negate the fact that that album still rocks and that the man from whom the band gets its very name is an icon in the music world or that said band, twenty years removed from that ski trip, are still one of the biggest groups in the world. In 2008, they were the biggest touring band on the planet. Believe it! That says a lot not only for the staying power of Jon Bon Jovi, Rickie Sambora, David Bryan, and Ticco Torres, but also for the music they've produced over the years, and the 120 million albums they've sold in their 26-year career. They survived the destruction of the '80s hair metal scene in the early '90s, at the capable hands of it's own excess and grunge, because, even though they had flowing girly hair and they could've been lumped into the hair category, they consistently put out good music regardless of the reigning genre on the charts. Why, oh why, do we pontificate upon the Jovi, you ask? Because on this day in 1962, in the Jersey town of Perth Amboy, Jon Bon Jovi began his journey in the world, which eventually took him to the top of the charts, across this great planet, and for one weekend, at least, into our fuzzy Walkman headphones as we travelled on a cramped bus headed for some wintery slopes. Thanks for the memories, Jon, and happy birthday. Check out Bon Jovi's collaboration with Hard Rock: The Signature Series 26 T-Shirt and Pin!
03.02: R.I.P. Eight Track. Introduced on this day in 1983 and stemming from a joint-venture between Sony, Philips, and Polygram, the first compact disc player was offered up for sale in the United States, paving the way for the demise (and eventual return) of vinyl, the rise of digital media, MP3s, and file sharing, and, as we've seen in the last few years, the demise of itself (what a vicious circle, indeed). Well, it might be a stretch to lump all of that into the launch of the CD player in the U.S., but we'll make that stretch any day because without the CD player and the digitalification of data, none of that, including this sentence, would probably be as widespread as it is today. Thank you, oh lords of the digital world for giving us the CD player and its requisite CDs, allowing us to eventually, 26 years later, transmit these nearly useless factoids into a world that couldn't care less. It makes us smile. Here's some more factoids for ya: the first CD to be released was Billy Joel's 52nd Street (which had actually been released over four years earlier on vinyl, 8-Track, and cassette); the first CD to sell a million copies was Brothers In Arms by Dire "Money For Nothing" Straits; and the first artist to have his entire repertoire reproduced on CD was The White Duke, himself, David Bowie, who's 15 studio and 4 greatest hits albums (up to that time) made their way into the digital world in 1985. That David is so ahead of the time. What a guy. All hail the digital age!
03.05: Sadness, yet again, as we lament the passing of another seminal singer before their time. On this day in 1963, a private plane carrying Patsy Cline crashed in severe weather, on its way to Nashville, where Cline wanted to be, so that she could get back to her kids. She was 30 years old. That Patsy portended her own death only adds to the sadness for us. She'd been telling friends for months that she felt her end was near, that she sensed doom on the horizon, that she'd already survived two bad car accidents that nearly killed her, so a third accident would be the end of her. She began to ask close friends to take care of her kids if anything ever happened to her. She tended to her estate, getting her things in order. Yes, this was weird then and it is weird now because maybe she did have a sense of her own death, a sense of the end of her time on this earth. It is unnerving to think that someone can know this. It brings into play so many other questions without answers and all leads back to one place for us. That is, we are not in control of our own destiny. Yes, heady stuff. But that's what Patsy's death brings out in us, beyond the sadness of a life gone too soon. She offered so much to the world, to women in country music, and to women everywhere. She showed everyone that women could play with the good ol' boys in Nashville and beat them at their own game, that women could put out hit after hit and hold their own within the male-dominated country music scene of the early '60s. From "Walkin' After Midnight" to "Crazy" to "I Fall To Pieces," Patsy's emotion and assertiveness comes across loud and clear. She was a wonder to behold then and to listen to today. That she chose collaborators of exceptional quality and chops further cements, in our head, at least, her intelligence and tenacity in seeking out something that hadn't been heard before in either country or pop music. She bridged the two genres, accompanied by gorgeous orchestration and arrangements, showing the world what it'd been missing all along. That she died so young probably added to the adoration which is heaped upon her, even 46 years later, but this is the way it always is with those who've died young, at the top of their respective games. Their lives are stuck in amber, frozen in time for all to see, for all to wonder what could have been, to marvel at what was, and mourn the passing. Today, however, as with all such days, we choose to celebrate their lives. Today we raise a glass to Ms. Cline.