Well Then Can I Walk Beside You?

For devoted readers, this is another in my (short) series of somewhat tortured “connections” posts. Unexpected linkages and “coincidences” fascinate me. Evocation of classic Stones tune and Burke PBS series and book are just fine too.

I came upon a review a while back of a small book entitled “Music from Big Pink.” I could not help but be intrigued at a book sharing title with seminal Band album I love. It turns out this is but one of a series of books (“33 and 1/3”) I gather commissioned by the publisher, Continuum Press, on similarly-classic vinyl platters. From what I can tell, the series has been quite a success. If you are invested in contemporary music and still on civilized terms with bound volumes, consider checking these books out. I haven’t really properly assessed the full stable, but I believe there are books on Dusty Springfield’s “Dusty in Memphis” and other classics such as Electric Ladyland, Pet Sounds, Exile on Main Street, Born in the USA, Harvest, Aja, Achtung Baby, and Highway 61. How could you not be intrigued with at least a few of those?

As it happens, my entrée to the series is a little unusual. No musical criticism here. This is full-on fiction, crafted around the Big Pink/Woodstock zeitgeist. “Pink” was a bit dark, being told from the POV of a drug dealer-to-the-stars whose life might charitably be called bleak. Most of the book is set in the Woodstock area circa 1968-9, when the album Big Pink and, as I recall, the Basement Tapes were fermenting. Entertaining, well-written, and pretty dark would be my précis on the book.

I gather companion volumes tend more towards non-fictional commentaries and such. I am definitely interested in further exploration in this book family.

But what about those connections I keep going on about, you ask? I acquired this book via library reserve I placed a while back. Not an interminably long wait, in comparison with some of my library holds, but enough to be unpredictable. While I was reading it, another of my holds, “Taking Woodstock,” came in. This is a memoir by the chap who apparently connected the festival promoters, thwarted elsewhere in upstate New York, with Max Yasgur, the author’s neighbor and friend.

This is a great and highly entertaining memoir, likewise recommended, with entertaining Bildungsroman subtexts including growing up gay in NYC, wildly dysfunctional parents, and the dramatic effect Woodstock had on all three of them.

The time-and-place linkage is a little fuzzy, I admit, but fascinating to a West Coast native matriculating in Jersey at the time, hyped on rock music and Dylan in particular, but as it happened back West when the deal went down. And of course it was tough to find a real-time vantage point for assessing the whole Woodstock thing without dramatic distortion while it was happening – or probably ever since. I’m not clear on the precise propinquity between the Big Pink sessions and Woodstock, but even rough conjunction is pretty fascinating. So there’s one fun book-to-book semi-connection.

Backing away from that for a moment, we were enjoying Sarah McLachlan’s excellent “Wintersong” holiday disk the other day. It was a revelation to me to hear someone else do Joni’s “River,” a great tune. So I was excited when the original came up in my iPod’s shuffle mode the next day. If Mr. Gaye had not come on quickly I would have turned the pod off to leave good ring in ears. As it happened, assertive co-worker accosted me about earphones: listening to “Christmas Carols”? I admitted that prior to Marvin I had indeed enjoyed a Mitchell near-carol. She was excited to offer up the Vanity Fair she’d been reading, which had great photo of Mitchell. Connection! I came away with mag, and enjoyed Mitchell and others, including Guthrie family, Baez, Taylor family, and Richie Havens. Squib noted that Havens led off Woodstock, and that his “Freedom,” performed as an encore, was more or less improvised, quite astonishing.

A couple days later I was savoring new book Taking Woodstock, only to learn that Havens was conscripted to lead off the festival as he was in effect the only musician available. TW does not mention the improvised aspect of Freedom, but does call out the song by name (supposedly heard at the author’s motel a good long way from the site). Connection.

Somehow I dropped into a Catskills eddy and have been thrown back a few decades. Not unpleasant, mind you. For that matter, I just witnessed 12:34.56 on watch. Past my bedtime! Will finish and post later.

Back again, earlier than night-owl signoff the other night, but not by as much as I would have liked.

As I wrap this up, just for the record you do recall who wrote the song “Woodstock,” don’t you?

Bingo. Excellent! Connection! See - you can play at this too.

We are stardust, we are golden,
We are billion year old carbon,
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.