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[August 26, 1969] A Bumper Crop at the Farm (Woodstock Music & Art Fair)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

A little more than a week ago, something remarkable happened in a small town in the state of New York.  Depending on your point of view, it was either a gathering of joyful people sharing fun and good music, or a mob of filthy hippies stoned out of their minds and destroying their hearing with loud noise.  Let's go back in time a little bit and try to figure out how this all came together.


Poster designed by Arnold Skolnick.

The Woodstock Music and Art Fair took place in Bethel, New York.  That's about forty miles away from the town of Woodstock.  Why the name?  Thereby hangs a tale.

Early this year, some business folks planned to hold a big concert in Woodstock.  They even called their company Woodstock Ventures.  Long story short, local residents rejected the idea.  The people running the thing tried other communities in the area.  The authorities of the towns of Saugerties and Wallkill nixed the idea as well.  What to do?

Enter a fellow named Max Yasgur.  He owns a six hundred acre dairy farm In Bethel.  He agreed to lease the use of his property for the festival in return for something like ten thousand bucks.


Yasgur's farm.

Some local residents were not pleased at all.  (Rumor has it that Yasgur is himself a conservative Republican.  Apparently that didn't prevent him from accepting money from members of the counterculture.)


A sign posted when the deal was announced.

Despite opposition, the authorities granted the necessary permits.  (By the way, the reason the poster shown above mentions White Lake as the scene of the festival is because White Lake is a hamlet within the town of Bethel, and is about three miles from Yasgur's farm.  Don't ask me; I'm only used to hamlet being the title of a famous play.)

It took so long to find a site for the festival that the folks running the thing didn't have time to put up fences or ticket booths.  Heck, they barely had a chance to put up the stage!  They'd already sold 186,000 tickets in advance (despite expecting only about 50,000 people to show up.)


Full admission price to the entire festival.  Expensive!

The big show was going to start in the early evening on Friday, August 15.  By Wednesday, the expected 50,000 folks had already shown up, with no way to find out if they had purchased tickets or not.  A lot more were on their way.  At its peak, the crowd was estimated at 450,000.

Roads leading to the area were jammed with would-be attendees.  Recent rain turned fields into seas of mud.  Lack of facilities — food and water, first aid stations, sanitation — added to the chaos. 

Three people died at the festival.  Two were from drug overdoses.  One teenager was run over by a tractor while he was in his sleeping bag.  Despite these tragedies, and many hundreds of people needing medical attention, one extraordinary fact stands out.  There was not one reported act of deliberate violence at the festival.

Think about that.  Close to half a million people living in close proximity, and in very stressful situations, without violence.  Makes you wonder if these Flower People are doing something right, doesn't it?

Enough background.  What about the music?  Thirty-two acts performed, from early Friday evening to late Monday morning.  Let's go over some highlights.


This advertisement doesn't list all the performers.  There were also changes in the schedule.  Sha-Na-Na didn't perform until Monday morning, and Iron Butterfly got stuck at the airport and didn't show up at all. Jeff Beck wasn't there, either.

Day One: Indian Summer

The opening speech was delivered Friday evening by Swami Satchidananda Saraswati, an Indian guru.  The first day was heavy on folk music performers, including Arlo Guthrie and Joan Baez (who is six months pregnant, by the way.) For me, the outstanding act was Indian sitarist Ravi Shankar.


Shankar performs Evening Raga.

Day Two: The Big Names

Saturday afternoon until Sunday was when a lot of the most famous rock bands showed up.  Santana, Grateful Dead, The Who, Jefferson Airplane, etc., but the electrifying performance of Janis Joplin and the Kozmic Blues Band, in the wee hours of the morning, was the highlight.


Joplin belts out an hour of her hits.

Day Three: Past and Future

More rock music ended the festival, interrupted for about three hours by a thunderstorm.  Monday morning the concert ended with two strongly contrasting acts, one looking backward and one offering hints as to what tomorrow's popular music might be like.

Nostalgia act Sha Na Na brought a chance of pace by performing doo-wop songs from the 1950's.  (It's amazing how much pop music has changed in fifteen years or so!)


Performing oldie Book of Love in gold suits.

The final act was the amazing Jimi Hendrix, said to be the highest-paid rock musician in the world.  His music is so far out, that it seems to be coming from the 21st century.


And yet he paid tribute to the past, with the wildest version of The Star-Spangled Banner you'll ever hear.

Was it worth all the mud and chaos?  Despite the small number of tragic deaths, and hundreds of bad drug trips, most of the folks who were there would probably say it was.  And here are some other eyewitness reports for you.  Over to you, Walter…


Er… you're not Walter…

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Woodstock: when it wasn't hot, it was cold.  When you didn't have to pee, you were hungry.  If you were anywhere near the stage (as we were Friday night into Saturday morning), you were elbow to elbow with a hundred thousand other people.  I got less than 10 hours of sleep over the 72 hours of the event, and then I soldiered on to help clean up before crashing in the van.

It was the best weekend of my life.


Aftermath in Paradise

Look—I'm 50 years old.  I've done a lot in my day, but I've never really pushed myself.  I've never done drugs.  I go to sleep by 10pm.  I stay at home, except when I fly to Japan, and then I go first class…planes and hotels

For this adventure, there was none of that.  The biggest concession to comfort is that we drove to the event early, and thereby avoided the worst of the traffic.  And I surrendered my six square feet of ground near the stage to eat and excrete and nap in the comfort of our rented van (though I slogged back during the rainstorm Sunday afternoon and stayed through until the end of the event).  It was a test of physical and emotional fortitude greater than any I'd had before.

What made it all worth it?  The music and the people.  It's all a riot of memories right now, a kaleidoscope that refuses to resolve, probably won't resolve for weeks or months:

  • The sensitive, soulful passion of Richie Havens, strumming powerfully until I felt his fingers must bleed, singing his own songs and those of the Beatles, and finally some sort of ethereal impromptu folks are calling "Freedom".


    A snap from an 8mm I shot of the concert—we were that close on the first day!

  • The bombed out young group that wandered by our van on Saturday evening.  We shared our chicken and rice with them and pointed them in the direction of the main stage.  Did they ever make it back?  We'll never know.

  • The surreality of feeling the Earth's rotation, watching dusk turn to night then to dawn then to day, and then to night again…marked not by the sweep of wristwatch hands but the endless cavalcade of bands: Santana, John Sebastian, Mountain, the Creedence Clearwater Revival…


    Sunset on Day 3

  • The ethereal beauty and surprising charm of Bert Sommer, who bewitched all who espied him.


    Telephoto shot of Sommer

  • The one-two punch of Janis Joplin and Sly and the Family Stone—easily the high-water mark of the event—the former, a goddess; the latter, the Supreme Being.

  • Marla and Tim and their lovely kids, who were our site neighbors, and as luck would have it, are also practically our hometown neighbors.  You can bet we'll keep in touch.

  • The most hilarious retelling of the Book of Exodus, as told by a quite stoned Arlo Guthrie.


  • The soaring harmonies of Crosby, Stills and Nash (and occasionally Young), with counterpoint provided by Amber's snoring…the poor girl had lasted through the endless sets of Ten Years After, Johnny Winter, and Blood, Sweat, and Tears, only to founder at the shores of excellence.

  • The couple that broke up at the beginning of the event only to be compelled back together by the end of it.

  • The turgid endlessness of Canned Heat, the Grateful Dead, and (sadly) Jefferson Airplane.

  • The sublimity of Jimi, pinnacling in his fiery, bomb-laden rendition of the National Anthem.

  • The three demons of Woodstock: the blue acid, the mud, and the scaffold creeps who would not abandon the stage towers despite the constant admonitions of the velvet-voiced EMCEE, "Chip" Monck.

  • The three angels of Woodstock: Max Yazgur, the nice mensch who offered up his farm to host the event so as to bridge the generation gap; the ministering angels who provided food when the concession stands ran out; and the good-natured attendees who, for the most part, offered no hassles or bummers and kept things peaceful and brotherly.


    Max Yazgur prepares to speak

It was an event for the ages, squared, cubed, and beyond for being shared with all of my closest friends.  My life is forever punctuated into two eras: before and after Woodstock.

The papers already seem to be forgetting the festival, the city we built that, for a weekend, contained more people than the whole of Anza Highway corridor back home.  But I'll never forget.  We'll never forget.

We were there.


by Janice L. Newman

Even as we watched the opening acts, more and more and more people were pouring in, young and muddy and hungry. While others were focused on the stage, my mind couldn’t help but be consumed by something else: logistics.

How, I worried, were all these people going to get fed?

Fortunately, others had the same thought. By the time the second day was going strong, the Hog Farm commune, founded by Hugh Romney, Jr. (aka “Wavy Gravy”) had gone into action, requesting money from the concert organizers and using it to purchase thousands of pounds of rolled oats, sliced almonds, apricots, currants, bulgur wheat, wheat germ, and truckloads of fresh vegetables. “There’s plenty of food over at the Hog Farm,” a young woman told the audience. I had to see for myself.

So I left my spot near our van (I’d slept there through the first night, unable to stay awake even with Ravi Shankar and Joan Baez performing) and went to see what it was all about.

I spent the next four days going back and forth between Hog Farm and Woodstock, helping mix and serve muesli out of giant trash cans purchased for the purpose, handing out sandwiches, and watching as people patiently lined up and accepted their share, or stepped forward to volunteer to help, or passed food through the audience to their friends who refused to leave their spot near the stage. The food wasn’t hearty, but supplemented with the milk and yogurt from the dairy farm, it was enough.

I missed out on all the night concerts, even my twin-named Janis Joplin, but I was up early enough to catch The Who. The music was great, but more than that, I enjoyed the chance to be a part of something bigger.


Me at our campsite in the woods

The Age of Aquarius, one of brotherhood, peace, and universal love, has always seemed like a beautiful but naive dream. Yet we saw something like it over the course of four days. Not just in the young people who gathered, but the people who came together to help support, feed, and care for them and for each other. Even the US Army helped out!

Woodstock may not end up being a profitable endeavor after all that happened. It’s already being talked about in the papers as a boondoggle. And yet…it was something special. Something different. Something new.

The people in the audience weren’t just spouting words about peace and brotherhood, they believe it. In the face of such sincerity, cynicism melts away and hope can’t help but take its place.  Who knows? Maybe this generation really will be the one to end war for good

.

by Lorelei Marcus

"How was Woodstock?" A friend asked me recently.

I couldn't reply for a long while, because there is no one answer; there is no one holistic Woodstock experience. Woodstock comprises moments, measured in music acts, naps, and meals. It was a lifestyle, a lifetime balled up into four days. How does one reply when asked "how is living?"

"Good," is all I could reply at the time.

Now I've had a bit longer to reflect. I can say that overall, it was worth it. But what was it like?


Me and mom at the campsite

It was the most humanity I'll ever see in my life. Everything from the funny guy teaching me about mushrooms, to the girl crooning out ballads on her tiny guitar between sets, to the practical feeling of wearing nothing along with everybody else. At some times we were a mass, snoring in the sun, lining up for food, eating, clapping, tripping, slipping on mud. Sometimes I was alone, relishing the quiet moment in the woods while I squatted over a hole, dozing through the first hour of Hendrix's concert, leaning over a pot of oats and stirring until it was warm.

There's a through line that connects these disparate flashes: the music. Some was transcendent, some was boring, and on the drive home I realized what made the difference. There were a lot of jams at this concert, not unusual for the live blues and rock scene, but often I found myself wishing for a song to end rather than enjoying its ride. Some would blame that on the sleep deprivation, but really, it's that long jams are flawed in two big ways.

First, a jam interrupts the flow of the song and diminishes the complexity of the experience. I don't mind the band free styling, but usually to keep together, they have to stay on one chord. This leads to a monotonous meandering of guitar notes and drum fields piled on top of a stagnant melody. The sound and the rhythm quickly lose their way, and any meaning built into the flow and structure of the original song are quickly dispersed.

The second problem is that jamming is a private experience. Songs are a story that reach from the musician to the listener. Jams can be like that if played with intention (Hendrix does this well), but otherwise it's a connection with one's band or even their own instrument. An audience can watch and appreciate technique, but cannot join the musician in their reverie without invitation.

Such is the art of performance, and what made both Janis Joplin and Sly and the Family Stone's shows so powerful. Both performers poured out their energy into the audience, giving themselves and their music to foster a bond. You could feel the passion like electricity in your bones. It multiplied, and you poured it out back to them, only making it stronger, looping until the music isn't just heard, but felt, like it's part of both of you. It creates a togetherness that you can't get anywhere else.


Me and Trini near the stage

Really, that's what Woodstock was all about: being together. Sometimes it was overwhelming, sometimes otherworldly, and mostly it was wet and loud.

But I wouldn't trade it for anything.




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[August 28, 1968] The Carnival is Over (The Seekers Break Up)

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by Kaye Dee

Without a doubt, Australia’s most famous musical export would have to be The Seekers, the folk-pop quartet from Melbourne who burst onto the international stage in 1964 and have given The Beatles and The Rolling Stones a run for their money when it comes to Top Ten hits. So, even with persistent rumours for some months that the band might soon break up, it comes as something of a surprise that, at the height of their fame, The Seekers announced in July that they have decided to go their separate ways.

The Seekers at the 1966 Royal Command Performance at the London Palladium

Singing for their Supper
The Seekers – Athol Guy (28), Keith Potger (27), Bruce Woodley (26) and Judith Durham (25) – formed in Melbourne in 1962. But how did a group of clean cut, coffee-house musicians – all of them with middle-class day jobs – become a hot property in the booming British pop scene and a household name on three continents? 

When the group was formed, none of its members were newcomers to the local music scene. The three male members had all attended the same Melbourne school and had their own bands before forming a new “doo wop” band, the Escorts, with singer Ken Ray. This group then transformed into The Seekers in 1962 as the folk music movement grew in Melbourne.

At the same time, Miss Durham, blessed with perfect pitch and originally planning to become an opera singer, was carving out a place in the local jazz scene. As the lead vocalist with a top Melbourne jazz band, “Judy” Durham had already released an EP with a local record label. With her beautiful and versatile voice, she can sing jazz, opera, blues and gospel – and there is no question that Judith Durham’s vocal talents have been a major factor in The Seekers’ success over the past six years.

When Ken Ray married and left the Seekers, Miss Durham was working at the same advertising agency as Athol Guy, and he recruited her as Mr. Ray’s replacement, creating The Seekers as we know them today: Judith Durham, the lead vocalist, also performing piano and tambourine; Athol Guy on double bass and vocals; Keith Potger on twelve-string guitar, banjo and vocals; and Bruce Woodley on guitar, mandolin, banjo and vocals.

On the cover of The Seekers first album, Keith Potger was replaced by former Seeker Ken Ray, because his day job as a radio producer at the Australian Broadcasting Commission barred him from involvement in a commercial enterprise. (L-R: Judith Durham, Ken Ray, Bruce Woodley and Athol Guy).




Breaking Into the Australian Charts
Miss Durham’s golden voice and the group’s folk-influenced sound quickly made them popular in Melbourne, although they were largely unknown outside it. When her previous connection with local record label W&G provided the opportunity for a recording contract, The Seekers released their debut album "Introducing The Seekers" in 1963, opening the way to reach a national audience.

In the liner notes for the album, The Seekers described their approach to their music: “We don't claim to be folk singers in the true sense of the word. Then again, we don't regard ourselves as being ‘commercial’. Why? Because we sing the songs we like, the way we like and the way we think people will like to hear them. No long-haired ethnic purity for us, it's more fun our way.”

Two tracks were released as singles, with their version of Australia’s unofficial national anthem “Waltzing Matilda” charting in the Top 40 in Melbourne, and the Top 100 nationally. Obviously, people did like to hear The Seekers singing what they liked, their way.

Sailing Away to International Fame
Since the 1950s, many Aussie entertainers seeking fame and fortune have headed off to Britain to try their luck in its larger, more vibrant entertainment industry, and in 1964, The Seekers decided that the time had come for them to follow suit. With a year-long contract to work as the house band on a cruise ship, the group departed Australia in March.

The Seekers planned to work in the UK and get some exposure for their music during the ten-week layover there before working the return cruise to Australia. Shrewdly, the group sent copies of their album and promotional photographs ahead of them to London talent agencies, hoping this might help them line up some work once they arrived. The tactic was successful, and once in London in May, the group discovered that a top agency had taken them on and already booked them on national TV shows, and on the UK variety theatre and club circuit.

Their planned “working holiday” almost immediately turned into a full-time career, with important London bookings and television appearances, a UK recording deal and the release of their first UK single, “Myra”. This was quickly followed by two studio albums and, at the end of 1964, their first big hit “I’ll Never Find Another You”.

What made The Seekers (deprecatingly described by some in the British press as “three bank tellers and a secretary” due to their conservative style of dress and a lifestyle that was definitely not “sex, drugs and rock’n’roll”) such a marketable property in a British pop scene fuelled by teen angst and teenage rebellion?

Internationally successful folk acts like Peter, Paul & Mary had paved the way for The Seekers’ sound, the product of Judith Durham’s pure and powerful voice and the “nice harmonies” of the three men. With their clean-cut good looks, equally clean-cut voices and quiet dress, they appealed to English squares because they represented something they could understand and feel comfortable with, while at the same time their catchy tunes and soulful ballads, and their sheer musical talent attracted a wide range of audiences. The conservative BBC loved them, because their music contained no offensive lyrics, and their performances no outlandish behaviour, meaning that they received a large amount of air time on radio and television, which gave them wide exposure. 

A Match Made by a Manager
Many of the catchy tunes that repeatedly propelled Seekers to the top of the charts, commencing with “I’ll Never Find Another You” (apparently recorded at the famous Abbey Road Studios by day while The Beatles were recording there at night), were written expressly for The Seekers by singer-songwriter-producer Tom Springfield, brother of Dusty Springfield. In a clever move, the agent managing The Seekers introduced them to Mr. Springfield shortly after he had split with his sister. Tom Springfield felt that The Seekers’ style of singing and performance would suit the particular kind of music he preferred to write. He became their resident songwriter, signing the group to his production company. 

In November 1964 “I'll Never Find Another You” became a massive worldwide hit, reaching Number 1 in Australia and the UK, and Number 4 in the US. It also rated highly in Europe and eventually sold 1.75 million copies worldwide. This earned The Seekers a place in the record books as the first Australian pop group to have a Top 5 hit simultaneously in the Australian, UK and US markets, as well as the first to sell over a million copies of a single.


A World of Their Own
You could say that 1965 was the year that The Seekers conquered the world, with hit after hit rising up the charts! “A World of Our Own”, “Morningtown Ride”, and my favourite, “The Carnival is Over”, were all Top Ten hits, as was their 1965 album release. With its melody apparently drawn from a Russian folk song, “The Carnival is Over” reached Number 1 in the UK, even overtaking The Rolling Stones' “Get Off My Cloud”! I’ve heard that the single sold over 90,000 copies per day in Britain, which is no mean feat.

The Seekers receiving their gold record in Australia for "The Carnival is Over"








Winning the Top of the Pops Best New Group of 1964, The Seekers starred in the New Musical Express “All-Star Poll Winners Concert” in April 1965, on a bill that included the cream of the British pop scene – The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard, Dusty Springfield, The Who and The Yardbirds: The Seekers would go on to outsell them all in 1966! Then followed a breakthrough performance in June on The Ed Sullivan Show – the first time any Australian musicians had appeared on US television.

The Seekers during their first performance on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1965


The Seekers' amazing success was repeated in 1966, commencing with a sell-out concert tour of Australia, during which they filmed their first Australian TV special, “At Home with the Seekers”. There was also a successful collaboration with Paul Simon (of Simon & Garfunkel fame), which produced “Someday, One Day”, another major hit. Bruce Woodley then co-wrote several songs with Mr. Simon, including “Red Rubber Ball”, released on The Seekers 1966 UK Top 10 album “Come the Day”. 

In November, The Seekers appeared on the bill at the prestigious Royal Command Performance concert at the London Palladium, before H.M. Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. Finally, in December, the group released what became their biggest hit, and highest charting American release.

“Georgy Girl”, the title song for the film of the same name, reached Number 3 in the UK, Number 1 in Australia, and Number 1 on the US Cashbox Top 100 in February 1967, ultimately selling 3.5 million copies worldwide. Jim Dale and Tom Springfield, the song’s writers, were nominated for the 1967 Academy Award for Best Original Song of 1966, although The Seekers had to pass up the opportunity to perform at the awards ceremony due to a prior booking in the UK. Unfortunately for them, the Oscar was won by the title song of the film Born Free.

The Seekers at the Myer Music Bowl, a publicity shot for "The Seekers Down Under"




While touring Australia in March last year, The Seekers appeared at a concert at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne, which is claimed to have drawn an audience of 200,000 – the largest concert audience ever in the southern hemisphere according to the Guinness Book of Records. (Though rumour has it that the audience figure is somewhat exaggerated, because visitors to the annual Moomba festival occurring in the vicinity were also counted!). During their 20-minute performance, the group was accompanied by the Australian Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Hector Crawford, also a producer of radio, film and television. Film of this performance was included in The Seekers’ second Australian TV special, “The Seekers Down Under,” which drew a record audience of over 6 million!

A scene from "The Seekers Down Under", showing the group in Canberra

By this time Miss Durham apparently felt the need to branch out on a musical career of her own, and recorded a debut solo single, "The Olive Tree", which was released in June last year, while The Seekers were on a North American tour. For The Seekers as a group, the hits just kept on coming, for both their single releases and their most recent album, “The Seekers Seen in Green”. But when Judith Durham’s second solo single, “Again and Again”, appeared at the end of last year, it sparked early rumours that the group might split up.

During their North American tour, The Seekers joined fellow Aussie performers Rolf Harris, Normie Rowe and Bobby Limb in the special “Australia Day at Expo 67” concert in Montreal, that became the first official satellite broadcast into Australia. They also made another appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, singing “Georgy Girl”, which has turned out to be their last US hit.

The Seekers performing at the Australia Day concert broadcast via satellite to Australia from Expo 67

Our Last Goodbye
Though we didn’t know it at the time, when The Seekers returned to Australia last December, it was to be their final Australasian tour. But in a fitting finale to their career, The Seekers’ rapid rise to international fame was crowned with Australia’s highest honour: in January, they were collectively named “Australians of the Year for 1967”. This was the first time that a group, rather than an individual, has received this prestigious national recognition.


The Seekers with Australian Prime Minister John Gorton and his wife after receiving the "Australians of the Year" award.

During this tour, they also filmed their final Australian TV special, “The World of the Seekers”. Filmed in colour for international distribution, the programme was first screened in cinemas (so we could see it in colour, lacking colour television in this country) before being broadcast nationally to outstanding ratings. 

At some point during the tour, Miss Durham informed her band mates that she intended to leave The Seekers in the middle of the year, although the swirling rumours of their impending break-up were consistently denied and laughed off, even a few weeks before the split was announced. 

Despite knowing that their days of performing together were coming to a close, The Seekers recorded a final single, “Days of My Life”, in April, which sadly has proved less than successful. A final UK album, “Live at The Talk of the Town” has also been recorded and will be released later this year. A compilation album, “The Seekers — Greatest Hits” has just been released here in Australia (quick work by the record company, that one!).

When The Seekers publicly announced in the UK on Wednesday 3 July that they were breaking up, they insisted that they had never intended to go on performing indefinitely. “It’s getting far too complicated, and should be run as a cold hard business, which means it has now reached a stage we never wanted it to,” they said in a group statement. “It is time for us to part. We are all at a stage where we should be growing up as individuals, not as a group”. This rather suggests that Miss Durham was not alone in her desire to branch out into a solo career, and her decision to depart simply accelerated something that was already in train.

The Seekers made their last appearance together in a 50 minute television special on 9 July, rapidly arranged by the BBC. “Farewell The Seekers”, which has not yet been screened in Australia, was reportedly an emotional experience on screen and off, attracting an audience of more than 10 million viewers. When the lights went down, the carnival was over, and an amazing chapter in Australia’s musical history had drawn to a close. I wonder what will come next for the former Seekers?

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[August 4, 1968] Changing Tastes (The Year of the Sex Olympics)

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by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Last Summer I complained about the growth of “flower music” onto the charts in the UK. Almost as quickly as it appeared, it seems to have vanished again, apparently being a phenomenon over here only as long as it was 1967. In fact, there is barely anything that could be described as psychedelic in the top 40 singles or albums.

Arthur Brown in makeup with lighted horns
Not the usual hippy scene

The only notable exception is “Fire” by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, which is very different from the sounds coming out of California last year.

Chicken Shack and Rolling Stones Covers

So, what has been replacing it? Well, firstly there has been a revival in the heavier blues sound, in both established acts such as The Rolling Stones and John Mayall, or new acts like Fleetwood Mac and Chicken Shack. Others seem to moving towards a pop sounding rock ‘n’ roll with heavy degrees of satire, the kind pioneered by The Kinks, we are now seeing on acts from The Beatles to Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich.

Andy Williams and Don Partridge covers

There are two genres that were also popular in 1967 that continue to be so. The first is the kind of Easy Listening music which predominates on BBC Radio 2, with figures such as Engelbert Humperdinck and Val Doonican. The other is folk music, which has much more variety in the charts, from the poppier sounds of Esther & Abi Ofarim, the more traditional route of Don Partridge or the curious experiments of The Incredible String Band.

Supremes and O.C. Smith covers

But probably the biggest musical genre in Britain at the moment is soul music. Not just the continued success of American greats like The Supremes, The Four Tops or Ray Charles. But also newer acts such as P. P. Arnold, O. C. Smith and the orchestral sounds of Love Affair, along with established British Acts like Dusty Springfield, Lulu or The Mindbenders.

If anything, this goes to show how quickly musical tastes change nowadays. What was popular in the summer of ’67, ’66 or ’65 sounded decidedly old fashioned the next year. Where will tastes be in 1969? Only time will tell.

Whilst I was pondering this, a stunning new teleplay came on to Theatre 625 and gave us a glimpse into the entertainment of the future.

The Year of the Sex Olympics

Promotional image for The Road
Nigel Kneale: Last seen by The Road

It has been a while for Nigel Kneale as a TV writer, working on films such as The Witches or First Men on The Moon instead. His last teleplay was half a decade ago with the excellent clever ghost story, The Road.

His teleplays have been known to be shocking and to provoke debate, sometimes even in parliament, and this is certain to carry on in this tradition.

Opening Logo for Year of the Sex Olympics

In a future clearly inspired by Huxley, the world now exists at peace and without want. Society is now divided into two groups:

There are a small group of “high drives” who we observe work in broadcasting and control the TV programs we see. Most people, however, are “low drives”. These people do not work, instead live in automated controlled environments. These do not have any interest in working and are kept pacified by the television programs the high drives produce.

High-Drive controllers watching a couple having Sex in qualifiers for The Olympics
High-Drive controllers watching the “Sport”

This society seems to be set up in this way for two reasons. Firstly, it keeps people pacified with the regular mantra, “Watch not do.” Sex television was designed to stop population explosion and wars, people numbed to doing anything by just seeing it all the time.

Secondly this acts as a form of eugenics to promote more high drives. With the sexual impulse of the low drives suppressed they are less likely to reproduce and most end up dying by the age of 35. Further tests are also done to determine if any high drive children are low drives and they are cast out into the audience.

Chessboard in a glassbox with a machine labelled "auto-chess"
Why bother playing chess when a computer can do it for you?

We are shown two problems with this situation. Firstly, some of the controllers are getting disenchanted with this society. Most notable is Kin Hodder, a set dresser, who is trying to introduce his real art into the broadcasts against the will of the controllers. The other is that the computers say they need to add more humour into the broadcasts, a concept none of the audience seems to be able to understand. For example, getting groups of clowns throwing custard pies only generates boredom.

Both problems are solved at the same time when the artist falls from a rope and dies in a gruesome manner, resulting in huge laughs from the audience. Thus is born a new concept: a show where people live on a remote island without any modern conveniences and are constantly filmed. Viewers get the thrill of never knowing if the participants will live or die. Two controllers, Nat and Deanie, volunteer for the pilot of the Live-Life show and bring along Deanie's daughter Keten.

Life is going to be much harder than they thought and, unbeknowst to the contestants, it turns out that the island is already inhabited. However, it will make for excellent ratings!

Naked woman lying down holding a veil with the word "Artsex" imposed over the top
Fancy something a bit more high-brow? Try Artsex!

The dangers of television becoming more shocking for the sake of it seems to be a subject en vogue right now, for example Kate Wilhelm’s Baby You Were Great or the film Smashing Time’s You Can’t Help Laughing. However, having it on screen in this way is much more immediate and shocking.

The message is hammered home very hard throughout. Not just with the imagery but with the language as well, where we hear phrases such as:

“A censor stopped things from going too far. We stop when things don’t go far enough.”

This could seem as too didactic or curmudgeonly but it is a testament to Kneale’s skill that he manages to pull it off.

I have to wonder if some of this is also grumpiness at his own experiences of television. It is notable that “audience testing” is a big part of this future. Continuous calibration made to audience reactions and even the winners of competitions are based on this.

Two people throwing food at each other.
Other entertainments include “The Hungry Angry Show”.

One of the odder choices is to give many of the (all British) cast American accents, something it does not appear they had much training on. This combined with the use of futuristic slang did make it hard to follow at times.

One person thankfully not trying to do one of these accents is Leonard Rossiter, a character actor probably well known to SFnal fans for his recent turns in The Witches and 2001: A Space Odyssey. He is an excellent choice for Coordinator Ugo, as he is able to come across as very unpleasant at the start whilst selling the disgust he feels at what is happening by the end.

Nat holding an axe whilst seeing a native of the island
The Live-Life Show. I think the title could do with some work

We do have to talk about the ending, as it is worth the price of admission alone. However, if you would rather wait for a possible repeat showing, stop reading now.

So, on the island Keten catches a disease that would be curable in the city, however, with no help available she dies. After the funeral Deanie is then brutally murdered by another inhabitant of the island who is then killed by Nat in revenge. This delivers the effect the controllers were hoping for as we see the audiences in raucous laughter over the horrific deaths and Nat’s grief.

This is disturbing enough but Nigel Kneale adds one final twist of the knife. Throughout we hear little jingles, very much in the style of pirate radio. Rather than having dramatic music playing over the ending, we just have a continual repetition of “The Year of the Sex Olympics Jingle”. Forcing us to ask, are we the same as them? Did we learn anything from what we saw or are we just as much passive participants?

If you missed it and are in the UK, write letters to the BBC asking for a repeat. If you are outside, see if you can convince a local station to import it.

Five Stars




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[July 8, 1968] Let the Sunshine In (Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical)

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by Erica Frank

Hair is a rapturous celebration of free love, higher consciousness, sexual adaptability, racial integration, and anti-authoritarianism. It's a critique of political corruption, the tragedies of war, and religious oppression. Also there is nature-based spirituality.

Hair is a debauched glorification of sex, drugs, perversion, profanity, and rebellion. It mocks public service, patriotism, and the church. Also there are fart jokes.

Pick one. Or take two; they're cheap. Everyone's got an opinion and none of them are the "real truth" about this complex and colorful stage production.

Note that the more positive description involves more words. It's easier to say something is bad–depraved, degenerate, vile, corrupt, and so on–than to praise something that doesn't fit into the established storytelling patterns of the day. And this musical–and its album–steps well off the common path to get its points across.

It's transcendental meditation versus the implacable forces of orthodoxy, and the prize at stake is the souls of a swarm of young people hanging out in Central Park.

Hair album cover

The cover is so striking you might not realize that the hair is not an artistic cloud-of-lightning addition–that's Steve Curry, who plays Woof in the Broadway cast.

Talk About Your Plenty, Talk About Your Ills

The music is incredible. From the opening "Aquarius" with its drumbeats and slow crooning that suddenly shifts to a cascading list of delightful assumptions of what the new era will bring, to the lascivious "Sodomy," to the jubilant "I Got Life," to the poignant "Easy to be Hard," the songs compel emotions with a shifting array of perspectives. The titular "Hair" is rebellious without hostility; "Don't Put It Down" is irreverent without contempt; "Three-Five-Zero-Zero" is stark and accusatory; "Good Morning Starshine" is bright and hopeful.

It's easy to get caught up in the music and miss the message–after all, the message is multi-directional and possibly contradictory. There's no one single theme I can point to and say, "this, this is the true message of Hair."

A scene from a performance last year, before the play hit Broadway.

It's anti-war, anti-draft. Those parts are simple enough. But it doesn't talk about war's influence on communities or even society–it talks about deaths of strangers happening far away, and young men who are afraid or (not unreasonably) unwilling to march off to fight and possibly die. This is not like Mark Twain's War Prayer; it's not a reminder that one side "winning" means another side enduring sorrows and agonies. This is instead, a view of war from the perspective of confused teenagers: A lack of comprehension why anyone would want to fight when the world seems on the verge of so many social and spiritual breakthroughs, when there is so much beauty and bliss and they could be partying instead.

War Is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things

Sheila leads the tribe in chanting for peace and freedom. Claude denounces his parents for coupon-clipping and wanders the streets looking at daffodils. Hud quotes Muhammad Ali from the New York Times last year, saying, "The draft is white people sending black people to make war on yellow people to defend the land they stole from the red people."

Muhammad Ali and friends at the Houston courthouse after he refuses to be drafted

Muhammad Ali and friends leaving the Armed Forces induction center in Houston after Ali refused the draft – April 28, 1967. | AP

There is something very true about that. And yet it is also facile, a simplification of a complex political situation. It boils the draft down to "why is this wrong for me" without consideration of why one nation might take up arms on behalf of another.

I do not think the US should be in Viet Nam at all, and we certainly shouldn't be drafting soldiers to send there. But my reasons for these beliefs are not discussed in Hair, which is focused on its "haggle of hippies" and their interests, which do not include political theory.

The play is obviously, overtly anti-racist. It denounces segregation and discrimination, speaks out against the white historical practice of "colonizing" by killing anyone who get in their way. But it does so by having black characters proudly claim the slurs thrown against them as badges of honor, by showing native peoples as "noble savages," insightful and wise but speaking with broken English. It does not show that some black people are uncomfortable with gutter slang, and would like to be lawyers, doctors, or professors, rather than street dancers and "President of the United States of Love." It does not show that some people hold all Americans, not just "the Establishment," in contempt. It celebrates white girls dating black boys and vice versa; there's no equal jubilation over black people who want nothing to do with the communities of their historical oppressors.

It's not inaccurate so much as it's incomplete, showing only narrow aspects of multi-faceted problems, a view so limited it could reasonably be called deliberately misleading. It preaches that peace, love, and tolerance can overcome all conflicts, settle all disagreements, glossing over any disputes that have their roots in limited resources or incompatible cultural differences.

The Politics of Ecstasy

It would be easy to dismiss the play as a performance of Timothy Leary's admonition to "Turn on, tune in, drop out," and to say the "core" message is "ignore all the rules; just enjoy yourselves."

Poster fort Human Be-In in 1968

Poster for the Human Be-In at Golden Gate Park in 1967.

And while there's plenty to support that claim–lots of sex and drugs and, every time things get a bit too serious, Berger makes crude jokes–there's something deeper as well. The hippies wrestle with politics, survival, and their sense of self. They try to find their own identities in a community that's aggressively cooperative, in contrast with the large society that seeks to erase them.

For all the fun and festivities, there is a dark undertone that cannot be banished by any amount of song and merriment. As the story pushes toward the conclusion Claude fears so deeply, he is left with the awareness that, while his community will share his joys, they don't know how to lessen his worries or sorrows. We, the audience, are stuck also realizing that these cheerful, carousing people, who hug freely and seem devoid of jealousy or malice, are fighting an unwinnable battle against forces they do not wish to comprehend, because even naming the foe would lose the innocence that allows their tribe to exist at all.

Five stars. The highs are lively and charming, and the lows are breathtakingly bleak.




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[October 4, 1967] Transported on a Ferry Boat (NY Avant Garde Festival, Sept. 30, 1967)

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by Victoria Lucas

Definitions

The dictionary says there are two definitions for the word "transport." One definition we could use daily. A sample sentence might read, "The bus was my means of transport to the 5th Annual New York Avant Garde Festival."

Definition number 2 is quite different: "I was transported when I got on the ferry, but it wasn't by the transportation!" In this sense, one is overwhelmed with pleasure, joy, excitement, all those good things. How do you combine the 2? Why, at an annual New York Avant Garde Festival held on a ferry, of course–in this case the John F. Kennedy.

The John F. Kennedy on its way to or from Staten Island

Whee! Here we go. This was the list that got me going:


Program for the ferry festival

Charlotte Moorman, Producer

Right there at the top is the producer, Charlotte Moorman. Earlier this year Moorman was arrested and convicted of obscene behavior for playing the cello topless, apparently in compliance with the musical notation of a piece by Nam June Paik, one of the composers listed underneath the festival title. Fortunately the Commissioner of Marine and Aviation didn't know that when Moorman went to apply for a permit to use the ferry boat as a stage for dance, music, painting, happenings, etc. She got the permit, and when it was questioned by the press, the Department stood by their decision (bless them), and the festival went on.

She has been producing these festivals since 1965. Never a strident feminist (not that there's anything wrong with that), she has charted her course to be with like-minded musicians and performers, and she decided that it was pretty useless to have little concerts for herself and her friends–better to at least try to introduce the "avant garde" (read "strange") to an unsuspecting audience. Just look at the list of names! Allan Kaprow, Takehisa Kosugi, Jackson Mac Low, Max V. Mathews (Bell Labs electronic music!), Max Neuhaus, Sun Ra! And those are just the performers! Here is the program, listing the composers, painters, and so on:

Program for 5th Annual New York Avant Garde Festival

Note, among others: Max Neuhaus, La Monte Young, John Cage (Yes!), Robert Moran (they played one of my favorite pieces, "L'apres midi du dracoula"), Robert Ashley, Toshi Ichiyanagi, Alvin Lucier, Karlheinz Stockhausen, with films by Stan Brakhage and "hopefully by" my favorite filmmaker Bruce Baillie, as well as Shirley Clarke and Ben van Meter. Con Edison lent them cables to use for all the electrical and electronic appliances/instruments, and somehow the Judson Memorial Church (where I went to see John Cage) was involved.

We were crushed!–uh make that IN a crush

Even after seeing partial lists of the performers and creators, I was not, however, prepared for the unique part of this experience. I've seen some of these people, heard their music, seen their work, read about them elsewhere. They and their work are available elsewhere. On the ferry, they were available right in front of me. Sometimes I could hardly get past them, the ferry was so crowded (holds 3,500, and that doesn't count the cars on the lower deck). There were dancers on the outside benches moving with a rope among them; Paik had televisions stacked on one another and on pedestals; a painter made room to paint in one area, a jazz combo to play in another. You could hardly move for the musicians, composers, painters, dancers, readers, poets, filmmakers, and all manner of creative men and women. "Excuse me, Mr. Ginsberg, could I get by you? I really need the john." Yes, Ginsberg did plan to be there. On a larger, longer, bluer than blue program for the event, his name is signed along with that of John Cage, Yoko Ono, and 107 others!

Here's how it went: Mel and I arrived and pushed our nickels into the turnstile slots. I can't remember what time we got there or how long we stayed. We probably stayed until the evening, not too late, because we don't want to be on the mean streets too late. We made our way onto the boat but there was no place to sit. We wandered around separately–a painting here, Nam June Paik's electronic display there. It really was shoulder to shoulder sometimes. I paid little attention to anything outside the boat. I think Mel tapped me on the shoulder at one point and led me outside so we could look at the Statue of Liberty. There were dancers outside, but no music. I was soon back indoors listening to music.

Come to think of it, I probably wouldn't have recognized most of the people on the program if they had addressed me personally. I know what Cage looks like, and he wasn't there when we were–or I couldn't find him in the press of people. I might have seen Nam June Paik adjusting the TV sets he piled one on the other. I have seen pix of Allan Kaprow and Yoko Ono–and I could maybe recognize a few others. But I didn't go to recognize people. I went to listen and look and be immersed in art and music. (I wasn't interested in the particular choreography on offer, but in reviewing the whole happening I would give it as many stars as I could reach.)

Back we went through the turnstiles and turned around and plunked in another nickel each and back into the crowd aboard. We were not allowed to stay on the boat. When it docked, we had to get off and pay for another ride. It was a routine–push our way through crowds to get on the boat, move around in it, 25 minutes later the boat docks, we get off and take the ride on the turnstiles, plunking the nickels (good thing we brought a supply) and getting on again, only to get off on the other side. It's a wonder we weren't dizzy. Actually, I think I was–dizzy with joy in art and music: Transported!




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[September 4, 1967] We Love The Pirates…But Wilson Does Not! (The End of Pirate Radio)

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by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

It finally happened; the Golden Age of Pirate Radio has come to an end around the British Isles. After three and a half years of pop music coming from the high seas, they have (almost) been completely silenced. British music fans are primarily reduced to listening to middle of the road requests on Housewives’ Choice or popular songs as interpreted by the BBC Scottish Radio Orchestra.

Photo of Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs.
Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs.

So how did we get from the country being surrounded by radio stations back to 3 BBCs stations and a signal from the continent?

Journey Out of Limbo

The legal loophole that Pirate Radio had operated in was not one that could continue on indefinitely. As I noted in my first article back in 1965, the UK was a key signatory of European Agreement for the Prevention of Broadcasts transmitted from Stations outside National Territories and so had to find a way to bring things to an end.

There had also been complaints from various different directions about these broadcasts:

* Foreign embassies were complaining that the signals were interrupting official broadcast channels (although others have claimed those signals were coming from behind the Iron Curtain)
* Shipping companies made the case that the pirate ships did not have set routes nor pre-agreed transmission frequency so were a hazard to transport
* Musicians unions argued that the amount of gramophone records played meant their live performances were being impacted
* Some record companies complained they were not receiving royalties from these stations (a fact that is disputed)

It also probably did not help when Reginald Calvert, owner of Radio City, was killed by Oliver Smedley, the former owner of rival station Radio Atlanta, in a row over transmitter parts in June of ’66.

So, a solution needed to be found. Obviously, the Pirates wanted to move towards legalization of their activities. I think you would have been hard pushed to find DJs that enjoyed being on rusty old ships or hanging out in abandoned sea forts, and the move towards an American style proliferation of commercial radio stations was probably their preferred option.

This was the proposal presented by Paul Bryan MP: to try to have around 200 local commercial stations throughout the UK, with major cities able to enjoy a choice of seven or eight different channels if there was enough demand.

Public show of support

A photo of a protest at Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally
Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally

The Pirate radio groups have been trying to drum up support for their cause in various ways. These have included measures from a single, We Love the Pirates, to a letter writing campaign to MPs, to the Free Radio rally in Trafalgar Square at the end of May.

Perhaps the most audacious has been the attempts to influence politics. During the April council elections in London, ads were run in support of the Conservative Party on Pirate Radio (due to the party’s support of legalization of commercial radio) and subsequently the Conservatives won 82 out of the 100 seats. Not only was this the first time they had held control of the London council since 1931, it is also the largest majority held by one party in the council’s almost 80 year history.

Political show of Opposition

Photo of Edward Short MP, Postmaster General
Edward Short, Postmaster General

If the Pirates and the Free Radio Association thought this kind of activity might exert pressure on the Postmaster General, Edward Short, they were sorely mistaken. If anything, it seemed to harden attitudes, with questions raised of whether further legislation was necessary to prevent any other kind of political broadcasting. Legislation has also been included to make it an offence for writers and artists to provide any kind of material or for the preaching of sermons on unlicensed radio (nicknamed “plastic gospels”).

Even a compromise proposal from Left wing MP Hugh Jenkins to allow for a smaller number of local commercial stations under a public authority, acting as a parent station, was rejected. Instead, the Marine Offences Bill or Marine Broadcasting (Prevention) Act was passed, making it illegal for anyone in the UK to provide any kind of support to these pirate radio stations. The law came into force on 16th August.

By then almost all the pirate radio stations had been shut down. Some had already begun to close earlier in the year, with advertisers wanting to jump ship before legislation went into effect. Others were able to survive a little longer, due to space being bought by the tobacco industry (who used it as a way to get around restrictions on their industry) and right-wing groups such as the Monday club (for whom this has become a cause célèbre).

However, as the deadline got closer, stations began to realize the game was up. The government had already begun to bring prosecutions where they could claim broadcasts had happened in British waters and rather than face a clampdown, they are silent. Now ships are being sent the scrapyards and forts are being dismantled.

There was even an investigation of the Amateur Athletics Association for making use of free advertising space on Radio Caroline. Although no prosecution followed I think this shows how strongly the government has taken the job of stopping the Pirates.

However, there is one last station determined to find a way to fight on…

The Rights of Man

As I noted previously, there are two legal radio stations you can try to listen to, if your signal allows. The night broadcasts of Radio Luxembourg from the continent, and the low powered broadcasts of the UK’s only legal commercial station, Manx Radio.

Photo of an old fashioned room with stained glass windows and a large number of chairs. This is the chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House
Chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House

The Isle of Man’s relationship with the UK is a complex topic I could easily do an entire article on itself, but needless to say, the Tynwald (Manx Parliament) objected to the imposition of this legislation on an island with its own commercial radio station and without any consultation and so it was rejected.

This created a constitutional crisis because it meant that Pirate Radio could simply park up and get the operational support they needed from an island just Sixteen Miles off the British coastline and have the perfect venue to keep broadcasting. Which is exactly what Caroline North did when they dropped anchor there in early August.

At the same time, proposals were discussed to significantly increase the power of Manx Radio’s transmitter, to be able to compete with Radio Luxembourg and cover most of Britain and Ireland.

As you can imagine this caused a lot of anger in Westminster, and talks were held to try to resolve the crisis. Eventually the legislation was forced to come into effect at the start of this month. Plans for an extended transmitter are shelved and Caroline North is once again isolated (although they say they are stocked with supplies and will continue broadcasting).

On the other side of the country, Caroline South is officially operating out of The Netherlands, with several DJs moving there to avoid any risk of prosecution. How long this tactic will last is the question. The Dutch parliament is considering legislation similar to that of the UK, to come into force in 1968.

Common Ownership of the Means of Production

So, is that it? Pop music is banished from British airwaves? Not quite, whilst the government may be engaged in what Paul Channon MP called:

unreasonable, dictatorial, a killjoy, pettifogging socialist nonsense.

Mr. Short and Mr. Wilson are also not stupid. There is clearly a demand for pop music radio and if something isn’t done to address that fact, it won’t be long before other illicit means are deployed to provide it.

The government white paper came out in February outlining the new approach which, perhaps unsurprisingly for a socialist government, outlined the plans for a new national BBC pop radio station. This will broadcast at least six hours of records per day, along with live performances from the artists and special recordings. In addition, there are plans for 9 experimental local BBC stations, subsidized by local services.

This new radio station is to come in as Radio 1, as part of a reorganization of BBC Radio. The Light Programme (Light Music) is to become Radio 2, The Third Programme (classical) is to become Radio 3, and The Home Service (talk and scripted) is to become Radio 4. However, at least initially, no extra funds will be assigned to the radio service, so Radio 1 and Radio 2 will be sharing programming.

A photo of the 22 new Radio 1 DJs, sitting on the steps of broadcasting house
The new Radio 1 DJs

In a further sign of this as a form of nationalization, the new Radio 1 DJs are former Pirate Radio alumni, from big names like Tony Blackburn, to the hippy’s favourite John Peel. So, even though we may not be getting a continuation of multiple stations giving us 24 hour hit records, there will at least be some continuity.

Will the crown ever appeal as much as the Jolly Roger?

In 1718 over 200 pirates accepted the King’s Pardon and gave up their life of piracy. However, a number of them, most famously William “Blackbeard” Teach, soon grew bored and went back to a life on the high seas.

The question now remains, which way will things go today? Will the new “Radio 1” replace the Pirates in the hearts of the nation’s youth? Or will many of them follow Caroline’s lead and return to life under the Jolly Roger?

The new service debuts on 30th September. Until then, you will have to stay tuned to the Light Programme. As this issue is being stapled and sent out, you should be able to hear the sounds of Bernard Monshin and his Rio Tango Orchestra and extracts of The Val Doonican Show from the pier in Great Yarmouth …. groovy…

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[June 18, 1966] Avant Radio for "Satisfaction" (Bob Fass on WBAI)

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by Victoria Lucas

"The Man Come On the Radio"

Last time I visited this journal, I mentioned Pacifica Radio and how their broadcast of stories from Vietnam via the Christian Science Monitor is influencing my thinking on Vietnam. But KPFA and KPFB aren't the only public radio stations, and others contribute (read "sell") content to them. I'm thinking particularly of that non-mainstream star Bob Fass, of WBAI (New York).


Bob Fass in the WBAI Studio, New York City

I can't get no "useless information"

I do love surprises–intellectual ones, not generally practical jokes. And Fass is full of jokes and japes and surprises. He's the kind of guy who would invite John Cage onto his show and play Cage's "Silence" (4'33") despite the rules against silence on the radio.It's no wonder his show is called "Radio Unnameable," although I had to look up the label, because I just turn on the radio and I guess it's lucky that I tend to turn it on when he's holding forth. Of course, the show is 5 hours long, emanates from the East Coast, and must be time-shifted, because he starts with "Good morning, cabal" at midnight in New York. So, for anyone tuning in from San Francisco after dinner, as I do, it's just there in the evenings weekdays starting at 9. (I miss him when he's off weekends.)


Fass with SNCC member, Abbie Hoffman

"Satisfaction"

What does he do with those 5 hours? Miracles. I think he would get LBJ on if he could. As it is, he satisfies himself with guests such as Abbie Hoffman, Paul Krassner, Richie Havens, Arlo Guthrie, Joni Mitchell, Allen Ginsberg, Frank Zappa, Country Joe, and many more, as well as random people who call in, sometimes more than one caller at once. Isn't that The Fugs playing right now as I write this? It doesn't matter how long or how short you make your song, you can sing it on his show. Someone you know having a bad acid trip? Call his show and he'll put on a psychiatrist to help you get through it unharmed (don't go outside unless you have a short walk to get help!)


FM Radio at Its Best

"He Can't Be a Man"?

Did I forget to mention that we're talking FM radio here? I recently went into a store to buy a new radio when my old one bit the dust. The salesperson who sprang upon me while I was innocently browsing among the machines wanted to sell me an AM/FM radio. I said no, that I intend to never move out of the range of an FM radio station. (And I almost never listen to AM radio.) Of course, like all the best laid plans of mice and men, who knows what will happen. For now, Mel and I are eating the occasional bit of shark meat on our hibachi that we put outside on our tiny porch, with some vegetables & rice cooked inside on the stove where he sometimes has to warm up his head when his pseudomigraines start. And going to see Carol Doda on Broadway, the occasional experimental movie, play and so on. There is so very much to do here in SF besides radio! But yes, I can get "Satisfaction," on the radio and elsewhere.

Speaking of radio, Bob Fass would be right at home at KGJ, our radio revolution!




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[May 4, 1966] Pushing the Envelope (The State of Music: 1964-66)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's been three years since our last survey of the American music scene. When last we took the pulse of Top 40, music was in a weird in-between stage with a dozen different genres and influences competing for ascendance. What we didn't see back then was the great tidal wave of musical influence that was about to crash on our shores from across the Pond. I think it's safe to say that 1964 was a watershed year, and the pop scene at least can be divided into the eras BBI and ABI…

The British Invasion

The tip of the spear was, of course, The Beatles. The right combination of talent, variety, and infectious tunes, all in a slick gray-suited, mop-topped package, the Fab Four were a hit in the U.S. from the moment they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in February '64.

What made The Beatles so compelling was that they had so much to offer. From their surprisingly diverse debut album, to their rocking second album, and on through their movie soundtracks, A Hard Day's Night and Help!, the British quartet had three score songs to enjoy, almost all of them hit-worthy.

And shoulder to shoulder with the boys from Liverpool was a host of other bands: The Dave Clark Five with their hard-hitting Glad All Over and Bits and Pieces, the delightfully varied and somewhat cynical The Kinks with hits ranging from All Day and All of the Night to the wistful Sunny Afternoon, the bluesy The Who with their anthemic My Generation, and The Rolling Stones, who certainly provide Satisfaction, Eric Burdom's soulful The Animals, the unusual The Zombies. More recently, The Hollies have impressed with I'm Alive and especially Look through any Window.


I enjoyed the sardonic A Well Respected Man quite a lot.


There are many Animals songs to choose from, but We Gotta Get Out of This Place is relentless!


Look Through Any Window blew us away!

Plus all the lighter Merseybeat gang, from Gerry and the Pacemakers to the goofy Freddy and the Dreamers, Peter and Gordon to Chad and Jeremy. The utterly gormless yet inexplicably popular Herman's Hermits. Not to mention the more musical theater-type stars like Petula Clark, Dusty Springfield, and Lulu.


Downtown is both upbeat and melancholy at the same time.

All in all, it's been a musical smorgasbord, so delightful that you almost don't mind how many former musical greats got cut off midcareer: who listens to Neil Sedaka or Rick Nelson anymore? And Elvis is barely hanging on.

Domestic Resistance

Nevertheless, the Yanks have both resisted and embraced the invasion. The Beach Boys have kept on plugging away since their 1962 debut with album after album, and they don't seem at all fazed by the foreign influx.

Motown remains King (Queen?) too: Acts like The Supremes, Martha and the Vandellas, The Four Tops, The Impressions, Dionne Warwick, etc. fill the Top 10 as often as any English band.


Stop in the Name of Love — we got Tony Randall, too!.


Sadly, Martha and the Vandellas were shortchanged to promote The Supremes — their Nowhere to Run To is a modern classic.


Walk on By is one of the loveliest songs ever recorded.

If there's anything that marks this era of music, it's how quickly it's changed. As doors open, they also close. 1964 saw the acme and crash of the surf guitar craze. Acts like The Ventures still steadily produce albums, but the rest of the scene has evaporated, again evolving into garage-y endeavors. The Chiffons, The Shirelles, The Ronettes, and many other girl bands have mostly dropped off the radar, Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" being supplanted by the new raw aesthetic.

Folk to Folk Rock

Since the last wrap-up, folk music swelled to a crescendo and spawned a hybrid child with rock. In 1963, Bob Dylan hit it out of the park with his magnum opus, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. Though he continued in acoustic vein through 1964, by last year he had picked up an electric guitar, rasped his voice a bit more (yes, it was possible), and completely changed his sound. From Like a Rolling Stone to widely covered It's All Over Now Baby Blue, Dylan's harmonica-fused electrica has transformed the radio (whether you like it or not.)

Sure, there are still straight folk acts out there, including Joan Baez, Judy Collins, the superlative Donovan, and the recent Gordon Lightfoot, but rocking folk is where it's at.

To wit, The Byrds released two of the more exciting records last year, featuring the hits Mr. Tamborine Man and Turn, Turn, Turn. Those are good songs, although they have lots of others that I like as well or better. For instance: It's No Use, I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better, and It Won't be Wrong. The group's jangle and close harmony are really appealing, though their Dylan covers tend to be limp.

Then there's the appropriately named We Five whose You Were on My Mind was everywhere (and deservedly so).


We saw a great performance of it on Hollywood Palace last year!

Simon and Garfunkel released an acoustic folk album at the end of 1964 that was pretty good but went nowhere. Lorelei and I liked the song, The Sound of Silence, so much that we played it at coffee shops and gigs for a while. Apparently others shared our taste because the song got air play on a lot of college stations, and a Byrds-ified version came out in September, dominating the charts. The duo, which apparently had broken up, got back together to release a new album: The Sounds of Silence (natch). It's quite good, though a bit downbeat, and more than half the songs incorporate electric guitar.

And in the same realm are The Mamas and the Papas and the closely associated Barry McGuire, evolved from the purely folkishy New Christy Minstrels. The M & Ps' California Dreamin' is destined to be an anthem for the decade, and McGuire's controversal Eve of Destruction and his even more goose-bump inducing This Precious Time mark two of the absolute highlights for 1965.


And we got to see BOTH of them on Hullabaloo late last year!

Given the success of the folk-rock genre, one can expect that the remaining "pure" folk acts may go in a rockish direction. But not necessarily…

Psychedelic

There's a new kind of music surfacing, filled with unusual effects, exotic instruments, and the impact of recreational drug use. For want of a better word, and because this is what several outlets and bands are calling it, the genre is "Psychedelic Rock."

Of all the bands I listen to regularly, probably the one that emblemizes this new style is the London-based The Yardbirds. Originally an uninteresting blues band, with the departure of guitarist Eric Clapton (who left because they stopped playing blues — don't let the door hit you in the a…mplifier on the way out) the band became something really far out. For Your Love, Heart Full of Soul, Still I'm Sad, and especially the latest single, Shapes of Things, are filled with atypical movements, eerie vocals, and just plain weirdness (but good weirdness) that indicates music has long since departed Kansas.

Other bands have begun experimenting with psychedelica, for instance, the formerly folk-rockish The Byrds with their brand new single, Eight Miles High. The frenetic, almost unfocused guitar work, the Indian inspired riffs, and the haunting vocals spell a huge departure from last year's output. The Beatles haven't whole-hog embraced the new style (yet), but the use of sitar on their last album, particularly on Norwegian Wood, is definitely part and parcel with it. I understand even The Beach Boys and The Rolling Stones are flirting with psychelica.

Next you'll tell me these bands are actually partaking! Le gasp!

Where to?

I don't think it's as hard to guess where things will be in 1968 or 1969 compared to how incomprehensible 1966 would have been to 1963 me. I'm guessing music will get weirder and heavier on one side, along a concurrent thread of smoother, poppish stuff. We might see two different radio formats arise by the end of the decade: one devoted to the experimental rock sound and one emphasizing smooth crooning and harmonies.

I sometimes marvel at how much I'm enjoying all of these new sounds. Many folks of my generation still cling to their jazz or even their classical albums and look at the new music as so much junk.

But to my ears, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life. Bring it on!

If you want to hear all of this great music, then tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest hits!




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Book, Fashion, music, politics, sports

[April 12, 1966] The Degenerate Modern Era

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by Erica Frank

Interesting Times

It's been a tumultuous half a year since my last article. In that time, the world of music and activism has grown tremendously. Joan Baez has released a new album with several anti-war songs and has relentlessly protested against the Vietnam war. Ken Kesey has begun his "Acid Test" concert-parties in San Francisco, and the headline band is often the Grateful Dead, formerly known as the Warlocks. Timothy Leary was arrested for pot smuggling – maybe he should've stuck to the more legal LSD. Poll taxes are now illegal, and formerly-obscene racy novel Fanny Hill is now protected by the first amendment and can be freely published. In the midst of all these political and social changes, Time Magazine is asking, "Is God Dead?" raising cries of "blasphemy" from conservative preachers across the nation.

Time Cover: Is God Dead?

Time Magazine, April 8 1966, asking the hard questions.

It is at that last point where I wish to begin, because I feel entirely qualified to answer that question: No, God is not dead; God is a female and Her name is Eris, Goddess of Discord.

The Best of All One True Religions

I can say this confidently because I have come into possession of the new scripture for our age, the Principia Discordia, or, How the West Was Lost, "beeing the Officiale Handebooke of the Difcordian Societye and A Beginning Introdyctun to The Erisian Misterees."

Yes, as is common with many of the younger folk involved in today's spiritual movements, I have apparently fallen prey to a religious cult, this one centered around the divine principles of Disorder and Chaos.

Sacred Chao of Eris

The Sacred Chao, drawing on the Taoist "yin and yang" symbolism–a circle divided into the Hodge and Podge, with a Pentagon on the Hodge side and the Golden Apple of Discord on the Podge side.

Principia was written by "Malaclypse (the Younger), Omniscient Polyfather of Virginity-in-gold" and "Omar Khayyam Ravenhurst, Bull Goose of Limbo and Protector of Switzerland" in 1963; they distributed copies made on Jim Garrison's Xerox printer. Garrison is a New Orleans lawyer with a penchant for going after corrupt judges: a laudable goal, but likely a frustrating career choice. I can understand why his office assistants might pray to spirits of Chaos.

The Principia describes what we know of Eris (not much, but that she was worshipped by the ancient Greeks as goddess of strife and discord, and the Romans thereby named her Discordia) and her part in the Myth of the Apple of Discord – a retelling of the Greek myth of the start of the Trojan war. Much of the fable is lost in my copy of the book, alas. Perhaps later editions will contain the complete text.

The Discordian Society purports to provide false but comforting answers to questions like, "why do today's leaders ignore the principles of science and instead embroil us all in totalitarianism and war?" It promotes "unworkable principles of discord" with the intent of providing a workshop for the insane, and thus keeping them out of the mischief they can create as "Presidents, Ambassadors, Priests, Ministers and other Dictators."

I love this book. Five golden apples. Please, seek out a copy at a bookstore near you, or demand to have one provided instead of a bible when you check into a hotel.

The Psychedelic Revolution

No religious movement would be complete without its music, and the music of the Age of Chaos is, in a word, "trippy." As in, it is often accompanied by acid trips, the experience of being under the influence of LSD. Kesey and his Merry Pranksters are at the heart of the psychedelic movement, and the Grateful Dead – formerly the Warlocks – are playing its tunes.

Can You Pass the Acid Test? Poster

Can YOU pass the Acid Test? Poster for one of Ken Kesey's events. Possibly used as an actual test: if the spiral starts spinning, it's working!

In January, they played at the Filmore in San Francisco. From that set, "Death Don't Have No Mercy" is memorable – somber and poignant. In February, they were at the Ivar Theater and played "I Know You Rider," a traditional folk ballad that's one of their staples. Their version as The Warlocks was heavier on drums, more "rock" and less "folk blues."  Their bluesy-rock music with long instrumental sections is the perfect background for Kesey's entirely legal, if a little unorthodox, LSD experiments.

But the Grateful Dead aren't the only ones directing the swirling energies of modern life into something more profound. Joan Baez's newest album, "Farewell, Angelina," includes both the anti-war title song, written by Bob Dylan, and "Sagt Mir Wo Die Blumen Sind" – Pete Seeger's German translation of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"

She is in West Germany right now, involved in the Easter peace demonstrations. She and her fellow marchers are trying to get governments around the world to realize that we cannot solve problems caused by poverty, fear, and violence by creating more of all three.

Wherein the Law Is Less of an Ass Than Usual

While we among the lunatic fringe are often at odds with our governments (especially when those governments are dedicating incredible amounts of our tax dollars toward killing people whom we don't want dead), occasionally we get a bright moment, a win for tolerance and a step toward true democracy. This past month, we have had both.

On March 24th, the U.S. Supreme Court found that Virginia's state poll tax was unconstitutional. Harper vs Viriginia State Board of Elections brought some of the protections of the 1964 federal Civil Rights Act to state laws. Justice Douglas delivered the ruling, including:

[T]he interest of the State, when it comes to voting, is limited to the power to fix qualifications. Wealth, like race, creed, or color, is not germane to one's ability to participate intelligently in the electoral process.

The court noted that the state may decide who is qualified to vote, based on reasonable criteria. States may disagree about the age of adulthood, or which crimes are so terrible that committing one removes a person's right to vote. But states do not have the right to declare soldiers non-residents, nor to apportion representatives differently for urban and rural areas. And now, it is established that "Voter qualifications have no relation to wealth nor to paying or not paying this or any other tax."

Poll Tax Receipt from 1966

Poll tax receipt from Alabama, showing a fee of $3–the price of a pair of sneakers–to vote for the year. Anyone who misplaced their receipt would not be permitted to vote.

No more shutting people out of voting because they're poor… or because their wallet was recently stolen… or because of a fire in their home… or because the receipt got damaged… or because the election official decided it was illegible… or whatever other excuse a district had decided on, as a way to keep anyone who wasn't white and wealthy away from the polls.

More Books to Read

Tom Lehrer fans rejoice! On March 21st, we scored a victory for smut: Cleland's Fanny Hill, also known as Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, originally published in 1749, is now legal to distribute throughout the US. Memoirs vs Massachusetts overturned the ban in Massachussets which followed the ban (and removal thereof) in New York.

The court ruled that the book has obvious literary and historical value, proving that it cannot be held obscene by the Roth test, and that since it is not linked to any illegal activities, there is no justifiable reason to censor it. The no-longer-obscene racy novel is now available to be printed by any publisher that cares to do the typesetting… and is willing to accept the hit to their reputation.

Fanny Hill paperback front and back covers

Includes the New York State Supreme Court decision – possibly even Desmond's dissent, which points out that "it describes to the last intimate physical detail numerous instances not only of prostitution but of voyeurism, transvestism, homosexuality, lesbianism, flogging, seduction of a boy, etc., etc."

Speaking of "reputation for publishing the wrong books"… Ace has been soundly castigated for their unauthorized editions of Lord of the Rings. The backlash against Ace was strong enough that they have offered repayment to Tolkien (which he has accepted), and have agreed to stop publishing and not reprint the book. Ballantine is now publishing fully authorized versions that pay royalties, and they are selling as fast as stores can get them.

However, it's likely that, without Ace's bold (and arguably unethical) plan, we would never have seen these books in paperback. Tolkien had initially refused to publish them in "so degenerate a form," and it is likely US publishers declined to republish in hardcover, as they didn't believe a big enough market existed. The hardcover books were a whopping $5.95 each; the Ace paperbacks were 75 cents. Ballantine's paperbacks, which factor royalties into their price, are 95 cents.

The hardcovers sold an estimated 15,000 copies… the paperbacks have sold almost eight times that many in a handful of months. So let's give a cheer for degenerate publishing and hope for a long and happy future of access to forbidden books!




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[March 10, 1965] Politics & Pirates: The Current State of British Pop Music Radio

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by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

BBC Radio

For those outside the UK it may surprise people how closely controlled radio broadcasting is by the BBC. Whilst we have had commercial television for 10 years, you officially only have a choice of the BBCs 3 radio stations (unless you happen to live on the Isle of Man, but I will get to that later).

BBC Radio

These are The Home Service, which is primarily dedicated to talk and drama (with a strong religious and educational focus), Network Three, which is primarily dedicated to classical music but with some jazz and educational content in between (such as Spanish For Beginners & Shorthand Dictation), & The Light Programme, for mainstream entertainment.

However, although The Light Programme is theoretically a national service for mainstream entertainment, this should not be mistaken for being a pop music radio station as you would have in America. The time is more regularly devoted to big band and soundtracks, with one of the most popular programmes being Housewives’ Choice

There are some specific slots set out for the kind of music that regularly appears on the charts, primarily on a Sunday. One of the most popular is Brian Matthew’s Easy Beat which, as the name suggests, tends to feature more easy listening popular artists such as Kenny Ball, The Hollies, and Val Doonican. Whilst it does feature some interesting artists, the Sunday Morning slot (just prior to broadcast of a church service) does not make it the most lively programme. At 4pm is Pick Of The Pops which features chart music and presented by Alan Freeman. Finally, late at night is The Teen Scene, which also features interviews with popular artists.

Why does the BBC provide so little for modern pop music? From what I have heard, many at the BBC radio consider their remit to be educational and do not have a high opinion of current musical trends. As such, it is not surprising that many people have sought out alternatives to the BBC’s monopoly over the airwaves.

Offshore Stations

Being next to the continent of Europe, those in the South of England can often get foreign signals quite easily.

The most popular of these is Radio Luxembourg. With (they claim) the most powerful radio transmitter in Europe they have been broadcasting in French and English to Britain since the 1930s. This decade they have begun to target the teenage market primarily and using American style DJs live. Until last year Luxembourg was the easiest place to access pop music.

Radio Luxembourg

There is now one commercial station officially licensed by the UK, Manx Radio. The Isle of Man, which sits in the North Sea between The Lake District and Northern Ireland, is a crown dependency but has its own parliament and laws. Last year they negotiated with the British Parliament to be allowed their own commercial radio station.

Manx Radio

Manx radio began broadcasting in June from a small hilltop caravan. Its programming makes for an unusual combination, as it has the pop records and attempts to recreate the styles American disk jockeys you can hear on Radio Luxembourg, but mixed in between them is a lot of local flavour. We get the real sense this is a true rural homespun affair with ads for local businesses and news of life on the island. In many ways these idiosyncrasies make it as different as it might be possible to get from the stuffed shirt attitudes we get from the BBC presenters.

However, many people are turning their dials to a new kind of programming, pirate radio

Pirate Radio

Radio piracy is nothing new. The 1930s was also a major period for pirate radio: the IBC were broadcasting English language radio from mainland Europe, whilst West End hotels broadcast live dance bands from their own ballrooms. I am personally too young to remember those days, yet it is curious to wonder where we would be if the war had not disrupted so many of these.

The direct antecedents of today’s pirate radio ships are probably Radio Mercur and Radio Veronica. The former starting in 1958 for Scandinavian audiences and the latter for Dutch listeners in 1960, these broadcast from offshore ships and showed that 1) There is an audience for all-day pop music radio aimed at the teenage market & 2) it could be a successful commercial operation. And around a year ago British audiences got their own version, Radio Caroline.

Radio Caroline

Ronan O’Rahilly, owner of the Scene club and small-time record company owner, decided to park just a few miles off the British coast and began broadcasting a different kind of radio. Here it is a steady stream of pop music with casual DJ platter and a freedom to promote newer artists to the audience. One good example of this is 24 year old Tom Jones, whose debut record It’s Not Unusual has not been played on the BBC but has been getting regular airplay and has been slowly climbing the British charts as a result.

One of the best loved DJs is Tony Blackburn who intersperses his playing of fantastic pop records with a regular stream of quick puns. A world away from the reserved presenters you get on The Light Programme.

Since the merger with Radio Atlanta (another Pirate Radio ship that quickly followed Caroline’s lead) these two ships can broadcast to almost the entire British Isles. However, there are a couple of flaws in the broadcast. Foreign signals disrupt the broadcast after 9pm which means the show stops broadcasting. Also, from what I have heard, in Northern Scotland, South Wales, and Cornwall the signal gets very weak. It is best able to supply those in the South East and North West of England.

However, Caroline now has a major rival in the form of Radio London. Also known as Big L or Wonderful Radio London, was started by a group of Texan Car Dealers in the mould of Radio Caroline and based on a former minesweeper sporting a radio mast which is (they claim) more than 200ft tall.

Radio London

Whilst only in operation since December they have already attracted a loyal audience via a combination of the clear experience demonstrated by their team and being explicitly a top 40 station, with their own weekly Fab 40 Chart we get to hear from.

Then we have the more unusual case of Radio City. In order to understand this you have to first know of two oddities of British life, the sea forts and Lord Sutch.

During the Second World War a whole range of armoured forts were built off the British coast in order to help defend against German attacks. These have since all been decommissioned and have been sitting empty off the British Coast. Last year one of these was seized by David Edward Sutch AKA Screaming Lord Sutch.

Lead singer of the rock group Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages, Sutch has become much written about in the newspapers for his unusual stunts, such as outlandish stagecraft and standing for election as a candidate for The National Teenage Party. Yet his records had a lot of trouble getting any airplay and he has been outspoken about the need to liberalise radio.

As such last May he took over Shivering Sands fort and began broadcasting Radio Sutch. As well as record play there were such segments as readings from erotic novels and other material designed to shock. This enterprise ended up being more important for the stunt than the actual broadcast as the transmitter was only able to reach a small area of the mainland and he soon sold it to his unofficial manager Reginal Calvert, who renamed and relaunched the operation as Radio City.

Radio Sutch

This is a somewhat more professional operation than Sutch put together, able to hit a lot more people but retains a little of the more eclectic content with output varying between new music releases to comedy to even evangelical broadcasts from local religious organisations.

The Current Battle

So as the number of pirate radio broadcasts continues to grow, so does the opposition to it from the government’s side. As well as the continued outspoken statements from The Postmaster General Anthony Wedgewood-Benn, Britain became a key signatory to the European Agreement for the Prevention of Broadcasts transmitted from Stations outside National Territories in January, designed to stop Pirate Radio.

Tony Benn

In 1962, the Government had investigated the possibility of licencing of commercial radio but had concluded there was no demand for it. Yet a report from last year found that in areas where Radio Caroline has a good reception around one-fifth were identified as Caroline ‘addicts’, 70% of them under 30 years old. At the same time a Gallup Survey estimated the listening audience at seven million.

Pirate radio clearly has a big cultural grip on the British Youth and is loathed by the establishment. Who will win in this battle remains to be seen, but I will keep turning my dial to 199 for my daily dose of Caroline.




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