Hippiefest 2009
The 40th Anniversary of Woodstock…err, ah…of 1969, anyway
What can be said of Hippie Fest that hasn’t been said before…three times before, starting with the 2007 Peace & Love theme of Country Joe McDonald, Melanie, Iron Butterfly and the Animals. The 2008 Hippie Fest was a flat out groove with Jack Bruce and Eric Burdon living up to some heavy rock & roll credentials This year’s version had some vague theme around 1969 – the fortieth anniversary of Woodstock and man’s first steps on the moon. Back in ’69 I was barking at the moon and loving it.
Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman aka Flo & Eddie reprised their roles as co-hosts and did an admirable job. Kaylan is a natural storyteller and Volman is his comedic foil though this time around their timing was decidedly off. Volman looked and sounded like he had a virus or something that robbed him of his voice and his whacked out sense of humor. Still, all things considered, this post-psychedelic daring duo are top-notch historians with an effortless wit and sense of the absurd. The show itself lacked spark and hum despite some of the best efforts of the cast and crew. Once again the house band known only by their first names - which I forgot almost immediately- were excellent backup singers and musicians and made a mighty contribution to the overall quality of the show. Unfortunately the sound and lighting quality was tolerable to poor. The PA was never balanced properly resulting in vocals, keys, guitars and bottom line either lost in the mix or dropping in and out at will. The only constant was the big explosive drum sound that is typical of all arena PAs. It is the great homogenizer, causing everyone to sound about the same or very similar (except for Leslie West and Mountain).
Joey Molland opened the show with his trademark toothy smile that is more protective than friendly. Joey tends to overdo his Liverpudlian accent with the broad melodic scouse getting drawn out to absurdist lengths. He looks and sounds like 1964 Beatle. But he is not a Beatle. He is a Badfinger who said very little during his band’s seventies heyday, choosing instead to smile that toothy smile and flip off everyone from the stage (hence the bad finger connection) and sing off key. Nowadays he’s playing Badfinger hits and forever apologizing to Pete Ham. It’s a living.
Felix Cavaliere, the former leader of the Young Rascals (later shortened to the Rascals) has been in the business since the early sixties as a backup musician for Joey Dee and the Starlighters – remember Peppermint Twist. By 1964 he joined up with Eddie Brigati, Gene Cornish and Dino Dannelli creating New York’s first rock and roll supergroup. Each player was a monster talent! In his current show, Cavaliere brings back the hits in a modified form, not in the chord sequences or rhythm but in adding flourishes of other songs, quoting Sly Stone, Led Zeppelin or the Temptin’ Temptations. It may have started as ad-lib jamming but now it is a well-rehearsed part of the act. And it’s very welcome. It gives hits such as Lonely to Long, Groovin’, People Got to Be Free, Good Lovin’ a fresh sound and appeal. The Rascals were once called the American Beatles. They didn’t deserve that phony hype because they were never the Beatles. They fashioned their own distinct sound from traditional R&B and soul. They came up with something rare and precious, social consciousness with a soulful big beat sound. Cavaliere should not be forgotten.
Flo & Eddie came on and did their shtick. Kaylan sounded great, better than his half-assed whispering vocal style that emerged 15 years ago or so. He released a solo album entitled Dust Bunnies a few years back and he seems energized by the experience of cooking up his creative juices. The dude’s got his groove on. Volman on the other hand could barely sing due to extreme hoarseness. Still it was nice to see one of rock’s most famously obscure singers/raconteurs onstage again. They brought out the expected medley of hits – You Baby, She’s My Girl, It Ain’t Me Babe and Happy Together. We are all better off with a little dose of Flo & Eddie.
Chuck Negron was the primary singer of Three Dog Night. He had one of the greatest voices in rock & roll. Not no more. His voice has thinned out and his range is limited and worse yet, his stage persona lacks the remote smack fueled cool of his glory days and transformed him into a bad Saturday Night Live sketch. “This one’s for all the lovely ladies in the audience”. The Lounge Singer. Yecch. Bill Murray sounds better than that. Wipe off that goofy snap on Vegas grin and get real, will ya? Yep, ok… he sang One, Mama Told Me Not to Come, Easy to Be Hard but he sang off key the entire show, going off sharp whenever he reached for a higher octave. And he OPENED with Celebrate when he should have closed with that stinker. Bite me. But Negron did indeed quit the smack and got clean and he is a courageous figure onstage. His show is proof that the human spirit can prevail. Bless you Chuck Negron.
psst…chuck, hey chuck… work on your funky cool, ok?
The finale was none other than Leslie West and Mountain with original power house drummer Corky Laing and a young dude bass player with a pony tail streaming from the middle of his noggin’. He was an outstanding player and energetic jumping, swinging and stomping all over the place. Though Leslie West still carries a goodly girth, he must have shrunk by several waist sizes. He is a tremendously gifted guitarist with a smart ass New York attitude that is almost endearing. He opens with an instrumental jam that segues into Blood of the Sun and gives some kid in the first row his pick and instructs him to play his guitar. After the song leaps to its furious conclusion West turns to the kid and says, “Where’d you learn to play guitar like that. My mother could play better…and she’s DEAD”! OUCH. West is a natural born storyteller much like Howard Kaylan. He regaled us with visions of Woodstock and how bands were transported by helicopter to get to the site. When it became West's turn to climb onboard the chopper,the pilot bellowed,"TOO FAT". So Wes was left behind to simmer in the indignity of a cruel label.
Even rock star's suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Throughout the set West was bitchin’ at the sound man, the lighting guy, the audience or anyone else who would listen to him. He was …so to speak, just a tad p-i-c-a-y-u-n-e. Oh hell, alright - West is a grouchy old fart, almost Aretha like in his clipped venom. But he was also a true wizard on the guitar. From Theme from Imaginary Western to Blowing in the Wind and Mississippi Queen, West refused to compromise his art. He even did a cool Close Encounters interlude recreating the musical tones used to communicate with the aliens. Very cool. He was truly a wonder and Mountain was the only intact band to perform at Hippie Fest – EVER, unless you can call Melanie a band. Bless his heart… West took all those teenie tweerps and fake tied-dyed robots out their comfort zone and into the sonic vortex of real rock and roll.
Death to Hippie Fest; Hail Leslie West and Mountain!
Peace and Love... and just a touch of hubris
Bo White