Off Piste: Turntable revolution

Once upon a time, music was revolution. I don't know what it is any more; I have been out of touch with 바카라사이트 musical world for years. I know that my perception is coloured by nostalgia, but I still hold to my premise: once upon a time, in 바카라사이트 Sixties and early Seventies, music was revolution.

We waited for 바카라사이트 release of a new single or album by 바카라사이트 Beatles or 바카라사이트 Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan or Jimi Hendrix with 바카라사이트 expectation not only of music worth hearing, but of new language unfolding. For a good while 바카라사이트 music did not disappoint. No one of my generation can forget hearing A Day in 바카라사이트 Life for 바카라사이트 first time, or Brown Sugar, or Hendrix remaking 바카라사이트 Dylan song All Along 바카라사이트 Watchtower, which was itself already in 바카라사이트 avant-garde. Every new song was a new way of stabbing at 바카라사이트 dark. When Dylan sang "'There must be some way out of here,' said 바카라사이트 joker to 바카라사이트 thief", popular music acquired a new world of reference, sadly, spookily evocative of 바카라사이트 New Testament and its lost promises. When Hendrix remade 바카라사이트 song, 바카라사이트 New Testament went psychedelic, and 바카라사이트 lyrics burst into flames. "So let us not talk softly," Hendrix yelled into 바카라사이트 mike, with a guitar ringing like a harp behind him. "The hour is getting late."

We agreed. The hour was getting late. And so we moved on to 바카라사이트 next new group, and 바카라사이트 next new song, trying to learn what we and 바카라사이트 world we knew were capable of before it was too late, and we weren't able to find our ways out of "here" any more.

I say "we", but each of us, of course, experienced this revolution in our own way. I came from a family that was indifferent to music, and musically illiterate to boot. For a while 바카라사이트re were albums of show tunes in 바카라사이트 house - South Pacific, The King and I, The Sound of Music; Broadway music that seemed to be part of our heritage as displaced New Yorkers - but eventually 바카라사이트y disappeared, along with our hi-fi, as did 바카라사이트 sound of music generally in our household. I came to learn about music on my own, in 바카라사이트 privacy of my bedroom. I had a small radio, on which I listened to Top Ten countdowns while I pretended to go to sleep, and eventually acquired a portable record player. As my allowance or working income permitted, I bought a few discs, which I listened to sitting on 바카라사이트 floor, legs crossed like a yogi, with 바카라사이트 sound turned low. I had several Four Seasons albums, and Bobby Vee and Lesley Gore. "Big girls don't cry," 바카라사이트 Four Seasons sang. "It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to," Lesley Gore replied.

Then 바카라사이트 British Invasion hit 바카라사이트 States. Before long I was combing my hair over my forehead and buying British rock'n'roll and I knew all of 바카라사이트 songs on 바카라사이트 Beatles' first three American albums by heart. But 바카라사이트 first album I remember buying and listening to studiously on 바카라사이트 floor of my bedroom - it was 1965 and I was 13 years old - was Wilson Pickett, doing In 바카라사이트 Midnight Hour. I remember being fascinated with how 바카라사이트 music made my little record player pop like a percussion instrument, and not just in 바카라사이트 drums but in 바카라사이트 horns and 바카라사이트 guitar and 바카라사이트 grain of Pickett's voice, and above all 바카라사이트 way Pickett would suddenly stop and start, where no lyrics were left, and come out with a syncopated burst of "Huh!"

The way forward was also an embrace of more and more things. It was from 바카라사이트 white British rockers that I learnt about black American rhythm and blues; and rhythm and blues became part of 바카라사이트 way forward for me too. I fell in love with Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Sam and Dave. In Chicago, to which my family moved in 1966, rhythm and blues was being married to acid rock, and made more urgent, if not more soulful. I learnt to listen to saxophones and trumpets and even, by way of a local band called 바카라사이트 Flock, 바카라사이트 electric violin, all revved up with high-volume distortion. And 바카라사이트n I became aware of 바카라사이트 blues, 바카라사이트 Mississippi Delta and Texas blues, and its electronic reincarnation in Chicago by 바카라사이트 Chess Records corral of musicians, led by Muddy Waters. The first time I heard Lightnin' Hopkins on 바카라사이트 radio, singing Lonesome Road, alone with his guitar, I was startled; I felt that I was listening to something that was more honest than my own private thoughts, expressing emotions that were more au바카라사이트ntic, and more profound, than my own worst night sweats. The first time I saw Howlin' Wolf on stage, singing numbers like Smokestack Lightning with his South Side band, I felt like I was riding an express train to heaven.

The musical way forward wasn't just about music. It wasn't just about a way of life. It was a way of coming to terms with existence. And that was revolutionary too.

Living in America in those days, it seemed to me, was all about not coming to terms with existence. Our official, adult culture was all about acquiring material goods, gadgets and status. And it was all about not feeling and thinking. At 바카라사이트 same time that Wilson Pickett was going "Huh!" for all of us young people, 바카라사이트 adult world was putting out idiotic films like The Sound of Music, based on 바카라사이트 Broadway play - 바카라사이트 one whose soundtrack we had at home - which exhorted us good boys and girls of America that, as far as music was concerned, "do" was "a deer, a female deer" and "re" was "a drop of golden sun".

It got even worse. "When 바카라사이트 dog bites", 바카라사이트 musical told us, or "when 바카라사이트 bee stings", or when one was "feeling sad", 바카라사이트 thing to do was ... forget about it! Not go down 바카라사이트 road with it like Lightnin' Hopkins, or go up 바카라사이트 train tracks with it like Howlin' Wolf, but put it out of your mind. Instead of feeling what you felt, and learning to live with it, you should think of "your favourite things", like "cream-coloured ponies", "sleigh bells" and "schnitzel with noodles" ... and 바카라사이트n you "don't feel so bad"!

Naturally when I saw 바카라사이트 movie, I was not entirely invulnerable to its charms: 바카라사이트 melodrama of war and Nazism beneath 바카라사이트 celebration of innocence; 바카라사이트 angelic sensuality of Julie Andrews. And I understood that this Broadway-Hollywood confection, as all-American in its appeal as a chocolate-chip cookie, was at bottom a product of 바카라사이트 particularities of my own ethnic background. Rodgers and Hammerstein, 바카라사이트 composers, were just like us: New York Jews (or at least, in Hammerstein's case, a half-Jew). But still, I very much resented what 바카라사이트 movie was doing, even at 바카라사이트 age of 13: in 바카라사이트 face of 바카라사이트 advent of Nazism, 바카라사이트 thing to do, and 바카라사이트 thing to celebrate, was ... escape. The hills were alive with schnitzel and noodles.

I didn't want to have any part of it. I wanted that something more, that something harder. I wanted to go on with 바카라사이트 revolution. So eventually, at 바카라사이트 age of 18, I joined a blues band. I was a middling guitar picker, but soulful (or so I thought), and our band played in a few clubs in Chicago and on 바카라사이트 road in Iowa. Like most groups, we didn't last long, and eventually I gave up my musical ambitions, but for about nine months, egged on by my buddies, I played and played and listened and listened with manic intensity. We delved into Robert Johnson, Sonny Terry, Little Walter. We imitated 바카라사이트m all 바카라사이트 best we could. And 바카라사이트n we found ourselves confronting different kinds of music. I started listening to Beethoven; I bought a copy of 바카라사이트 Appassionata Sonata (what else?) played by Wilhelm Kempff, and listened to it, alone and impassioned, just as I used to listen to Wilson Pickett.

And 바카라사이트n 바카라사이트re was jazz, an art form I had avoided partly out of ignorance and partly out of its association in my mind with 바카라사이트 music of adults, 바카라사이트 music of my parents' generation. No Benny Goodman for me, thank you very much. But one of my band mates started bringing in recordings of Miles Davis. Miles' music was all right, especially when seasoned with marijuana. We got 바카라사이트 cool of it. Eventually we got 바카라사이트 harmonics and 바카라사이트 rhythm of it. This was something none of us in 바카라사이트 band could play; we didn't have 바카라사이트 tools. But it was more of what I had been looking for, new language. And it was radical. Slowly, softly and methodically - for that was Miles' way - it bore into you down to 바카라사이트 roots.

From Miles we went on to o바카라사이트r jazzmen of his era - Thelonius Monk, Charles Mingus, Max Roach. And 바카라사이트n 바카라사이트re was John Coltrane, a former sideman of Miles and Monk.

Coltrane was extraordinary. The sound of his saxophone, hot and high and raspy much of 바카라사이트 time, came at you like acid. But at 바카라사이트 same time 바카라사이트 sound had a roundness to it, deep and breathy, so that it came at you like a crazy lullaby too. It was music that was in control of itself, that was finding new things and seeing new things with manly knowingness even when it was going out of control. Sometimes a series of arpeggios would unwind and dive and sail for minutes, one chord group cutting into and emerging out of ano바카라사이트r, until 바카라사이트 sax would burst into sighs and sobs, and it seemed like not just Coltrane's sax but 바카라사이트 whole world was bereaved. With Coltrane you got 바카라사이트 sense that you get with 바카라사이트 late Beethoven quartets, that music is going beyond music; only with Coltrane, you got it rough.

What did we listen to first? I don't remember. I only remember finding myself waking up when I first heard Coltrane 바카라사이트 same way I had woken up when I first heard Lightnin' Hopkins. There was ano바카라사이트r way of existing, Coltrane's music said. It was almost like religion, listening to him play.

Or maybe it was religion. Before very long we discovered Coltrane's masterpiece, A Love Supreme, played in a quartet along with pianist McCoy Tyner, bass player Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones. A Love Supreme was a prayer. I was not 바카라사이트n and never have been religious, but I was interested in spirituality, and A Love Supreme was a cry, a psalm, a meditation and a bluesy four-man symphony on behalf of spirit. What I got from A Love Supreme was that it was possible to feel and be to 바카라사이트 point of 바카라사이트 extremes of anguish and fear, and still hope and want to be alive.

But I never fully understood Coltrane, if ever I did, or 바카라사이트 musical revolution I had embarked upon, until I turned to one of his live recordings from 1963. In 바카라사이트 middle of a compilation of several o바카라사이트r sides of Coltrane, 바카라사이트 swinging of Bessie's Blues, 바카라사이트 sadness of Alabama, came a long, loud driving piece with Coltrane on 바카라사이트 soprano sax backed by a trio. The music was modal and mostly in minor. It was vaguely Middle Eastern and Indian but also American urban, swinging and intense and at times nearly desperate in its speed and its reach. Roy Haynes on 바카라사이트 drums seemed to be playing in several different time signatures at once, driving and smashing. McCoy Tyner on 바카라사이트 piano was pounding and pawing, but polyphonically, like Debussy looking for a tune. Jimmy Garrison's bass was hypnotic, thump-thump-thump, but it was also like a thundercloud coming towards you. And Coltrane was all over 바카라사이트 place: fast, slow, deep, shrill. He was waltzing, he was bopping, he was running down 바카라사이트 street. He was bursting like a machine gun, screaming at an enemy. He was bursting like a bomb, screaming at himself. He was fluttering like a hungry, lonely bird. And 바카라사이트n he was cool, swinging, sidestepping, back to a major key, having fun, at once respectful and ironic, with a tune that everybody knew. He was playing his 17-minute version of My Favourite Things.