Glorified “Sup-nod”, numerous pigeons in a man suit and several men in pigeon suits.
(I don’t discriminate)
What a lovely first Monday of the month it is too. Perfect weather to talk about where you’re from and who made ya! I like to think we all carry some semblance of hometown, national, or generational pride. We cheer for the home team, buy local produce, and put on shows so that we can see local artists as well as the out-of-towner’s. Allow me to crack a cold one in each of the aforementioned categories.
Hole #1, Par: 1965.
GENERATIONAL PRIDE.
THE WHO – MY GENERATION
Aside from having the insanely thunderous bass prowess of John Entwhistle, The Who stormed airwaves with gratuitous amounts of immensely well-written songs and the shining star of lead vocals Roger Daltry. In an era before the ability to “like” someone’s newly shared SoundCloud single on Facebook, people actually had to get their albums (in physical form) into the hands of Radio DJ’s. Just take a moment to imagine the sheer distribution necessary to become internationally known with massive label support, which is a problem that still haunts the starting years of many very promising new acts, and then imagine being four blokes from the UK competing against bands like The Beatles.
Hole #2. Par: 1970
HOMETOWN PRIDE.
MOUNTAIN – MISSISSIPPI QUEEN
Now, this has to have a bit of a prefix story. This one time I was out at a bar and the INSTANT this song came on there was a table of (let’s say the near empty bottle of Patrón Silver indicated their status at the time) young to middle-aged ladies who (as if by symbiotic natural force) all in unison screeched the same note of unsurpassed joy as they heard the fated tune come on the bar speaker system. Needless to say, I inquired to what about this song was so meaningful to them, only to be informed (repeated and slurredly) that they were all Mississippi natives, and it was in essence an anthem to every female who heard it back home. I guess there is some gender specific/ladies night aspects to the whole thing, and I do love the idea of that crazy-fine Cajun Queen being out there in the bayou somewhere. Craaaaaawfishin’. The big tube distortion of the guitar and infectious off-beat of the snare ring out such southern sweetness that it’s understandable how something so simple stands the test of time.
Hole 3: Par 1969
NATIONAL PRIDE.
THE GUESS WHO – AMERICAN WOMAN
Though if written today, I feel it would be attacked with all abandon before anybody even bothered to think about something very lost in music today, “SUBTEXT. The “underlying message” if you will. Where shit like Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” uses sensuality to poorly cover essentially “Rape: A Musical Escaped”, “American Woman” was written to retain a message with actual importance. In a time of civil discord with the world stepping into an era of quickly advancing technology, keeping up with the Jones’s was dang near impossible with the war-mongering state at the time, so to be a voice of dissent was rare to say the least.
Anyhoop, you’re all nerds. Thanks for stooping in.
– BEAR.