Photos and Text by Tim Van Schmidt

New Year’s Eve with The Grateful Dead

I first heard The Grateful Dead play live on a New Years Eve. This was back in 1970, but it’s not as cool as it may sound.

The Dead were playing Winterland Arena in San Francisco and a television station there was broadcasting it.

My family had just moved from Phoenix to the San Fernando Valley, just north of Los Angeles. I found myself on New Year’s Eve that year playing cards with the son of one of my dad’s colleagues while flipping around the channels of the TV.

At one point, I hit on The Grateful Dead concert in San Francisco — don’t ask me why it was available in L.A., but there it was. And what I heard changed my mind about music.

In between card games with my new friend, I would return to the Dead concert and finally just sat down and listened. What I heard opened my mind as The Dead meandered off into long jams. I was used to standard structured music so it was a surprise to come upon music that was set so loosely in motion, the results happening with powerful effect, yet seemingly unplanned. It was fresh and lively with musical ideas.

At that time, my music collection was almost entirely on cassette tape, so the very next tape I bought was The Grateful Dead’s first live album, “Live Dead.” On that tape was the song “Dark Star,” one that echoed what I had heard from that TV concert — music magic at the moment of creation – and became a benchmark for me as the best of The Dead.

I finally got to see The Grateful Dead at the Hollywood Bowl in June, 1972. This concert, according to Dead lore, is famous in part because it was the last performance for keyboardist and vocalist Ron “Pigpen” McKernan, a founding member of the band. It was also the debut of the wistful Dead song “Stella Blue.” This was the first concert in the US after the tour that produced the seminal three record set, “Europe ’72,” arguably the band at its mightiest.

Since then, I went to see The Grateful Dead at every opportunity. I saw them in stadiums, in college gymnasiums, in theaters, arenas and clubs. If not The Dead themselves, then various offshoots like The Jerry Garcia Band or Kingfish. Living in California, it seemed like The Grateful Dead was the house band.

It was about the music, of course. But being a Dead fan was also something more. There was a very conscious vibe of a hippie community at a Dead show. That sense of community and the musical exploration the band applied to its music in a live setting combined to make every Grateful Dead concert a unique experience.

In 1974 in Seattle, I became an official Deadhead. No, really. For a short time, the band had booths at their shows and you could sign up for the “Deadhead” newsletter and sampler records. I received Dead news for some time after that, including mentions of a new music technology, shared on products played with a beam of light.

That show in Seattle, by the way, was marked by what Dead lore has deemed the longest version on record for the song “Playin’ in the Band.”

I keep mentioning “Dead lore” and it could be said that no other band ever inspired such a detailed and full history, primarily thanks to the fans. For so long, the currency among Deadheads was cassette tape copies of many and various shows. The Dead, in fact, accommodated fan taping. Now, of course, there are full databases online with recordings of all of their shows.

I didn’t know how really deep The Dead culture had gone until I took several years off from listening to them. I returned to see them at Red Rocks in 1987 and was amazed — the parking lot was more like a hippie marketplace and the twinkle toes dancers lined up and down the steep Red Rocks steps suggested a kind of cult.

At Dead concerts before this, you always felt linked to those around you because you were all Dead fans enjoying the moment. But this kind of friendly community had exploded with the numbers of nomad fans that began following the group everywhere, often giving “Deadheads” a bad name. Big or little, though, The Dead were still playing and that was cause for celebration.

Twenty years after hearing The Dead on that New Year’s Eve in 1970, I finally got to hear “Dark Star” performed live in Denver — I suppose a lifelong dream for a Deadhead. The Grateful Dead were performing then with Bruce Hornsby on keyboards and the tune just kind of got a sputtering start in the course of the show, but did blossom as it progressed.

I know this because thanks once again to the extensive archiving that has happened with The Grateful Dead’s music, I was able to cue up a recording of that very moment and hear it over again.

I heard Phil Lesh play “Dark Star” again at Red Rocks one night and I got to hear “Dark Star” one other time in Fort Collins, sung by Dead lyricist Robert Hunter. He was on a rare solo tour and included the tune in his set at the Aggie Theatre.

Bob Weir also performed at the Aggie, with his band Ratdog, and Dead drummer Bill Kreutzmann appeared on the stage in Fort Collins at the Starlight with Papa Mali.

I have a lot more stories, and that’s how it is with Deadheads — those stories are golden. We remember The Grateful Dead and are glad to share their story.

R.I.P. 2020: The Lost Musicians

This article began with Toots Hibbert. Hibbert, the vocalist and mainstay of the roots reggae band Toots and the Maytals, died this year in September.

Hearing of his death reminded me of the very short conversation I had with him some years ago. I was trying to hook up with him for an interview and my contact gave me a phone number at a recording studio in Jamaica. I called at the appointed time, somebody answered and turned the phone over to Hibbert who only said “The red light is on, man!” meaning, of course, that his recording session was in progress.

It was only a moment, but memorable.

Throughout this year, I have been aware of other deaths in the music world, including John Prine, Charlie Daniels, Little Richard and many others. My memory of talking to Hibbert while “the red light was on” prompted me to think of my memories of some of these other lost musicians of 2020.

For example, I connected with the late Joseph Shabalala by phone from South Africa for an interview. Shabalala was the head man for the a cappella group Ladysmith Black Mambazo, who were catapulted to worldwide fame thanks to recording with Paul Simon on his seminal world music album, “Graceland.” All you have to do is listen to the tune “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” to hear the group’s distinctive contribution to Simon’s music.

More than just a few words, my interview with Shabalala not only touched on making music with Simon, but also went into the spiritual realm. Shabalala told me that angels often visited him in his sleep and taught him how to make his music.

I interviewed the great late Texas singer-songwriter Jerry Jeff Walker several times and he told me about running his own music company during the dawn of the Internet, thereby circumventing the usual detrimental shenanigans of the music business in general.

But my deepest memory of Walker, responsible for writing the song “Mr. Bojangles,” was standing out in the rain to hear him play one night at Mishawaka, an evening he remembered well and was blown away by because of the tenacity of his Colorado fans.

I never interviewed John Prine — but I saw him play multiple times. The first time was the best. It was at a theater-in-the-round in Phoenix with a revolving stage. For his encore that night, he brought on the opening act — Steve Goodman, another top notch singer-songwriter — and the two literally played back-to-back while the stage moved around.

I only saw Little Richard once — at an oldies show at Fiddler’s Green in Denver. He and his big show band played his hits, but most memorable about the evening was how, in between songs, he practically howled about a bad tooth ache that needed attention.

I met the great jazz pianist McCoy Tyner, from the John Coltrane group, backstage after a concert in Santa Barbara. I was blown away by seeing the great blues show band guitarist Charlie Baty and his band, Little Charlie and the Nightcats, one night at a little, now long-gone club in Fort Collins called Boomer’s. And I got to experience the instrumental sensitivity and intensity of pianist Lyle Mays — and the rest of the Pat Metheny Group — from a front row seat at the Lincoln Center.

Very recently, on a trip to San Luis Obispo, California, I got to sit down and chat with photographer Baron Wolman, not a musician, but famous in the music world as the first photographer for Rolling Stone magazine. He covered everything during those exciting rock years of the 1960s, including Woodstock.

My memories are personal and other avid music fans could no doubt mirror my own remembrances with their own. And that is why it is so shocking to hear about the loss of cultural figures like popular musicians — their loss brings up the memories of the things we enjoyed and now are gone.

The Crossroads Called “The Holy Land”

My wife and I have cancelled two international trips this year due to the corona virus pandemic.

Over Thanksgiving, we were scheduled to go to Taiwan with friends, including a native from that country. Taiwan is one of the safest places on earth in terms of virus concerns with only seven deaths out of a population of 23 million.

Unfortunately we would be coming from one of the worst places and would have spent the entire time in a quarantine facility.

Back in March we cancelled a trip to Israel, then one of the most strident countries in terms of lockdowns. My daughter and her family were there on a work assignment.

I’m sorry to miss the opportunity to go to Taiwan, especially with a person who was anxious to show off her homeland. Though we had exciting plans for our 2020 visit to Israel, we were a little less disappointed because we were able to get there before all this virus mess started.

What I experienced on that trip was like walking through the pages of a history book. That would be a book of ancient history and modern history, religious, political and cultural history, local history and history that has affected the world.

We were staying with our daughter in Herzliya Petuach, just north of Tel Aviv, and a visit to some nearby ruins called Apollonia is a perfect example of what it was like visiting Israel.

Apollonia was a small fortress perched on the coastal rocks above the crashing waves of the Mediterranean Sea. Its history goes back thousands of years, the original inhabitants gaining fame for creating a special purple dye from the mollusks found below in the water. These inhabitants were conquered. The fortress was burned and rebuilt. And this cycle was repeated over and over again over the centuries.

Every step of the way around and in the ruins at Apollonia had been taken by many others, many times over, speaking many languages and practicing many different religions.

But a key to understanding this place’s long history could be understood by standing at a wide, arched window facing the sea. From there, you could see far up and down the coastline.

A tour guide explained on our trip along the northern coast of Israel that the place now known as Israel had been a very important piece of property for one particular reason — it was smack in the middle of the trade routes between the Middle East and Africa. Before airplanes, trade had to move overland or on the water and anyone who wanted to control trade — and benefit from it — had to keep a keen eye out for invaders wanting a piece of the action. Therefore, a place like Apollonia and many other places like it up and down the coast were necessary and strategic lookouts.

But more than just a crossroads for trade, of course, Israel also has been a crossroads for religious traditions and as we toured the country we visited holy sites important to a number of religions.

We visited the birthplace of Jesus in Bethlehem — the actual spot located in a grotto under the oldest functioning church in the world.

There was the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, built where various traditions believe God created the world and the first human, where Abraham went to sacrifice his son and where Muhammad began his ascent to heaven.

We placed prayers for our grandsons in the Western Wall in Jerusalem and saw the splendor of the Baha’i Gardens in Haifa.

These places are not like tourist attractions in our own country, like the birthplace of Elvis Presley, or George Washington’s home in Mount Vernon — relatively recent cultural spots. The places in Israel are rooted in traditions and beliefs that span millennia. It is awesome, even mind-bending, to think you are walking in the footsteps of historical and even holy figures who not only changed the world, but transcended it.

I didn’t get to go to Israel this year. I may never go there again. But I have felt the tremendous power that is so firmly concentrated in this vortex of economic and religious history. It is something you never forget.

Creature Comforts: CO-VID Cats and Canines

Meet Gracie. She’s a CO-VID canine who was not only born during the pandemic, but also found a good home.

Gracie is a little Havanese and her proud “mother” is a first-time pet owner at age 70.

It goes like this. Gracie’s Mom has led a very busy and active life. She has a house in Fort Collins and an apartment on the 16th Street Mall in Denver. She has an active extended family, tons of friends and has maintained a wide-ranging interest in cultural events — from stage shows to concerts to movies to dinner dates.

But the CO-VID pandemic caused a halt to Gracie’s Mom’s lifestyle. As weeks turned into months and even telephone calls became same-old, same-old, Gracie’s Mom came to realize the awful fact — she was lonely.

Without all the usual things to do, Gracie’s Mom needed something new. A close relative back in New Jersey was looking for a new dog and it struck her that maybe, for the first time in her life, the commitment of caring for and raising an animal sounded good.

Gracie’s Mom first checked out the animal shelters in the area, but found that lots of other people had the same idea. Her relative had found a dog and, in the process, introduced Gracie’s Mom to several different breeds and dog-owning possibilities. It was a photo of little Gracie as a fledgling pup that melted her heart and started the adoption process.

Once in her new home, Gracie, named after Gracie Allen of the famous comedy team Burns and Allen, started to take over. Toys littered the floor, Gracie had her own bed, little steps made the climb to the couch easy and, of course, puppy pads became really important.

Gracie’s Mom has most assuredly found something new to do in her life with this project — she jumps up whenever Gracie even looks at the door to go out, she takes Gracie for walks several times a day, and she coos and soothes the little mite constantly. Gracie doesn’t like riding in the car and there have been a few traumatic trips out to see the vet, but mostly it is going well.  It seems that now, it’s all Gracie’s world and Gracie’s Mom is just living in it.

Gracie plays. Gracie runs around the house. Gracie naps. She eats, piddles and just generally keeps things very lively. Mission accomplished for Gracie’s Mom.

At our house, the scene is dramatically different, or should I say non-dramatically different? We have a 14-year-old cat whose main activity is sleeping, that is until she gets hungry. Once the food is properly served and her highness has had her snack, it is generally back to sleep mode for her. She’s very chill.

But not all the time. Our cat’s name is Dora, short for Pandora, because as a youngster, she couldn’t keep out of any box she could find. She’ll still climb into boxes today when it doesn’t interfere with her napping schedule.

But more, Dora’s main contribution to pandemic living for my wife and I is that she purrs like crazy whenever we hunker down together.

This is in keeping with how I fell in love with this feline. When Dora was much younger, I was shedding some tears over the loss of our beloved black lab and she didn’t go hide, but jumped up on the couch, laid right up against me and purred for all she was worth. Dora earned her title of “care cat” with that simple gesture and she keeps it up to this day.

Dora’s concern for our well-being has even affected my wife, who said some kind of unspeakable things about cats at a much younger age but who I will often find sharing her space with this purring caregiver.

Dora’s reward is petting and scratching under the chin or behind the ears and it appears like she enjoys it very much. It’s a transactional relationship in many ways, but it truly is more than just that.

Now, an old cat requires some extra work — in a different way than a brand new puppy does — and Dora kind of keeps us jumping too. But in the midst of a pandemic, myself, my wife and Dora have settled in to take care of each other the best we can.

This will happen to Gracie and Gracie’s Mom too, but they are still in those initial phases where everything is new.

Thanks to our past animals and Dora today, I have come to know that cats and dogs add an element to our lives that just can’t be measured. That is perhaps even more important today than it has ever been.

It is currently most important to Gracie’s Mom, who has found love and happiness thanks to this little dog.

What “The West” Has to Do With It

Land. Sky. Space.

Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that’s what I love about living in the American West.

I live in Fort Collins, now pretty much a big, bustling city. I think about what I have to do. I drive around to do my errands. I put my mask on, of course. I interact with people. I pay my bills. I follow the news online. I write. I take pictures. You get it — I’m a busy 21st Century person living in an urban area that is still on the way up.

In the course of days, weeks and even months of this, I often am so focused on my business, that I forget what is all around my busy world. That is, a much bigger world.

That became the stark realization for me recently when I visited Soapstone Prairie Natural Area, north of Fort Collins. Windswept hills full of low-lying prairie grass empty out into wide range-lands that give a sense of that bigger world just beyond our city hub bub.

The place is significant in that nearby is the famous Lindenmeier archeological site — and placards explain the ancient and recent history there. Soapstone is also the home of a bison herd and an attempt to reestablish the black-footed ferret. The lands are conserved thanks to sales tax ballot measures that were approved by voters in Fort Collins and Larimer County.

All of that aside, though, visiting Soapstone is a reminder of everything the city is not. The hills are the buildings. The birds and grasshoppers are the people. Maybe a couple of deer come through as the dry yellow grass flips back and forth in the breeze. There are no cars, no TV screens, no computers, not even good phone reception.

This world exists far outside all of that.

I get that feeling sometimes flying in a plane over vast areas of “The West” that have nothing to do with people. There’s a whole lot of wilderness in between our big cities.

However, I would rather be down in it, than above it, even if I wasn’t limiting travel due to the pandemic.

But 2020 has been a difficult year for being “down in it” too.

Above all, my favorite outdoor destination in the region is The Snowy Range, west of Laramie in the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest. The majesty of Sugarloaf Mountain and the brightness of the white rock make a gorgeous backdrop to the white caps stirred up on the chilly alpine lakes and the tufts of trees and bushes that survive between the cracks.

For many years, I would camp with friends in the Snowies on an annual basis, exploring the trails and letting the vistas work their magic. Unfortunately, the Mullen Fire stopped that this year.

My next favorite regional destination is the Emmaline Lake Trail in the Pingree Park area. My camping buddies and I would find a spot near the Tom Bennett Campground then hike up past the CSU Mountain Campus to the Cirque Meadow. The Cirque is an excellent destination in itself, but just up the trail — and I do mean up — is the top-of-the-world beauty of Emmaline Lake.

The Cameron Peak Fire stopped going there this year.

Especially this year, with virus restrictions keeping life in the city much more sedate, then wildfires, smoke and ashes making the wilderness unsafe, I wanted to get out even more. So, my wife and I picked Soapstone as a doable destination, if for even one day.

The first time I visited Soapstone, it actually was an unnerving experience. I decided to go solo and when I arrived at the parking lot, the only other car there pulled out and left.

At first, I thought “How great, I have the place to myself,” but after getting a mile or so back into the hills, I realized that indeed I had “the place to myself” and questioned what would happen if I was injured without anybody in the area to help.

This also makes you aware of the awesome power of nature. Not only is the land, sky and space beautiful, but it is also potentially hard and rough on naive, puny humans.

I was born in Illinois and for Thanksgiving, I’ll give extra thanks for my parents’ brave decision to move us to “The West.”

If they did not, I might never have experienced the beauty of the desert at sunset in Arizona. Or the roaring lull of the ocean in California. Or the green, green, green freshness of the rainforests of Washington.

I found my own home in Colorado and have come to love the mountains on one side, the wide prairie on the other and a sky you can almost reach out and touch.

I like my life, as busy as it is, but I must remember what is much bigger and all around me — “The West,” the land, sky and space that I love.

November 11, 1918: Armistice Day One

On November 11, 1918, my grandfather was on the street in Boston when news of the Armistice broke out, signaling the end of World War I. To commemorate the day, he bought a couple of newspapers.

Many decades later, I found the newspapers in Grandpa’s trunk in Illinois. He gave them to me — and I have kept them safe ever since.

Recently, I took these old newspapers — now 102 years old — and gingerly opened them page by page. This was a true glimpse into a bygone world — but similar in some ways to today.

In 1918, the world had just experienced a devastating war. In 2020, it feels like we have been going through a war on many fronts, politically and socially. But further, 1918 was the year of the deadly Spanish Influenza outbreak. In 2020, it is the CO-VID 19 outbreak that has stunned the world and it is just as deadly.

It was widely recognized then that November 11, 1918 was a momentous day and one Representative Charles Hartshorn didn’t waste any time in immediately filing a petition with the Legislature that very day to declare the date a legal holiday, “Victory Day.”

It became a holiday alright. In 1919, people worldwide observed the first “Armistice Day” on November 11, in remembrance of the end of WWI and those who served in the military in that catastrophic war. It became a legal federal holiday in 1938 in the United States. The holiday became officially known as “Veterans Day” in 1954, now honoring all military veterans.

The newspapers my grandfather bought in 1918 were the Boston Evening Globe — with huge headlines declaring “Armistice Terms” and “All Draft Calls are Canceled” — and the Boston American.

Here’s a look at what was going on.

On top of it all was the proclamation made by President Woodrow Wilson: “Everything for which America fought has been accomplished. It will now be our fortunate duty to assist by example, by sober, friendly counsel and by material aid in the establishment of just democracy throughout the world.”

The first “Victory Baby” was born in Dorchester at 3 o’clock in the morning, “ten minutes after the news was flashed from Washington of the signing of the armistice,” and the baby and mother were reported as doing “finely.”

Celebrations exploded everywhere. The newspaper declared “Boston is Wrapped in Joy”; bells were ringing, whistles blowing, and shots were fired. Reports claimed “men, women and children were on the streets at an early hour and everybody was happy.” Impromptu parades seemed to be rampant. The stock market and factories closed and the sale of liquor was also shut down.

War news included grim lists of American war casualties, listed by name and hometown, and the shocking international toll that numbered ten million. But also detailed were efforts to raise and repurpose ships sunk by U-boats, some sunk more than once, as well as reports of the fighting that continued despite the signed armistice.

Another article reported on a memorial service for nine nurses, including two sisters, who died caring for influenza patients.

At the theaters in Boston, famous stage actor Otis Skinner was appearing in his comedy classic, “The Honor of the Family,” and Ethel Barrymore was appearing in “The Off Chance.” Other shows included Booth Tarkington’s “Seventeen,” Bernard Shaw’s “You Never Can Tell” and “Chu Chin Chow,” a “Musical Extravaganza of the Orient,” featuring a company of 300.

At the movies, Charlie Chaplin appeared in “Shoulder Arms” and Olga Petrova was featured in “The Panther Woman.” The Strand, the “New Million Dollar Photoplay Palace” that sported a “$75,000 organ,” was opening with Annette Kellermann in “Queen of the Sea” and Marguerite Clark in “Out of a Clear Sky.”

Ads offered total room furnishings, including a mahogany table, rugs and draperies for $147, fancy dresses that were once $29.50 were now $18.75 and a cigarette brand claimed “thousands of physicians and surgeons” as customers.

A help wanted ad looked for a “Candy Man, experienced in pan work.” Another ad was looking for “Old False Teeth,” “bought in any condition.” A quinine company warned that “a coughing sneezing person is a danger to all he meets” and suggested using their product to beat the Spanish Influenza.

Comic strips included the pun-filled “Over Here,” the rascally gambits between husband and wife in “Bringing Up Father,” and the tall and short duo, Mutt and Jeff.

The newspapers were also running a number of serialized novels ranging from “When a Girl Marries” and “The Paper Wife” to war time yarns like “The Zeppelin’s Passenger” and “Ambassador Morgenthau’s Story of German Plots.”

There was poetry, expressing the woes of a nonvoter in “Election Day in New York,” the downfall of a modern tower of Babel in “The Collapse” and one by Ella Wheeler Wilcox — just bursting with love for the universe — titled “If I Could Utter.”

There were even recipes, for dishes like “eggless raisin pie,” “snowflake biscuits” and “oyster pie.”

This was a big, bruised and busy world breathing a sigh of relief on November 11, 1918. But as busy as it was, there was a reverence for what it took to get to that particular armistice, some giving their all in a conflict that, for the first time, spanned the globe.

So much has happened since then and conflict continues to be a reality in our world more than one hundred years later. And is that sense of reverence they had in 1918 still intact for what it has taken to get us to 2020?

I have posted a slideshow on YouTube that features clips from these old, old newspapers. It’s simply titled “November 11, 1918 Boston” and I share it in memory of my grandfather, who was there, then.”

What Was Your First Concert?

plus An Interview with Michael Fennelly

When music fans get together and concert stories start flying, inevitably they compare notes on their very first concert experience.

I remember mine — “A Festival of Rock” in Phoenix on July 31, 1970. The headliner was Ten Years After and the bill also included Cactus, the original Poco and Big Brother and the Holding Company.

But the very first band at the very first concert was one called Crabby Appleton. I’ll never forget walking into the arena — the darkness, the lights and the booming volume, all kind of disorienting. But when I finally found a seat and could tune into what Crabby Appleton was doing on stage, I was impressed from the very start.

So was the crowd and Crabby Appleton earned some major applause for so early in the evening. Meanwhile, I was carrying around my primitive little cassette recorder and recorded the show.

Shift the timeline to 2004. That year, I published a book titled “King Koncert, Memoirs of an American Rocker The 1970s,” writing about my concert experiences including, of course, that first show. I listened to the recordings I had made and deepened my memory of that great time. The book came out first through a publish-on-demand company, then I ended up putting the entire book’s text on my web site.

Here’s where it gets more interesting. In 2011, a friend of Michael Fennelly, guitarist and vocalist for Crabby Appleton, read my review of that first show online and noticed I mentioned having recorded the concert. He requested a copy of the Crabby Appleton recordings on my old battered tapes and brokered a direct exchange between me and Fennelly. I was amazed — that forty plus years after the fact, I was providing my rough recordings to one of the musicians I had seen so long ago.

Now, it’s 2020 and that first concert was fifty years ago. But the memory hasn’t diminished. So much so, that I dug around in my e-mail archives and found Fennelly’s address and gave it a shot. I thought I might post a Crabby Appleton recording online to commemorate that event five decades earlier and though that plan was scrapped, Fennelly and I agreed on an interview that was interesting indeed.

Fennelly’s answers — read the full text below — range from memories of a rock and roll past to what’s going on in 2020.

Now I’m doubly amazed — updating views with the guitarist for the first band at the first concert I went to fifty years after the fact. OK, so all of that makes my first concert all the more memorable.

But everybody has their own story and even Fennelly, who now lives in Oregon, couldn’t resist mentioning his own “first concert” — the original lineup of The Beach Boys on their “Summer Safari” tour.

So, that just begs the question: what was your first concert? Post a comment. Bring up a memory. Play that old record of the band that lit your fuse back in the day. Right now, in the midst of a pandemic, we don’t have much choice but to depend on our concert memories.

An Interview with Michael Fennelly

What was happening with Crabby Appleton in the summer of 1970?

Summer 1970 was an amazing time for the band. Our single “Go Back” was climbing the charts and we were performing live shows all over the place. The funny thing was — our record was a hit in the top ten (sometimes number one, two or three) in some regional markets, but was unplayed and unknown in other markets. So one night we’d be playing a huge arena — on the bill with major acts — and the next night we’d be playing in a little dive off the highway. It kept us humble.

What was different about doing solo work like “Lane Changer” (Fennelly’s solo album) as opposed to working with a band?

My experience making “Lane Changer” was new and unique to me. I’d always gone into the studio with a well-rehearsed band and arrangements nailed down for the most part. But for “Lane Changer” I was working with great British musicians who only worked the songs out briefly and quickly. The process yielded a freshness to the sound and style, I think.

And ex-Zombie bassist Chris White, who produced the album, was a joy to work with. He had a little black book with contacts for incredible players. He even had Jeff Beck come in to play the guitar solo on the song “Watch Yerself”. You can imagine what a thrill that was for me.

Where else has your music journey taken you?

I arrived in Los Angeles in 1966 at age 17. One year later I was recording with seasoned pros in CBS Studios, making The Millennium’s “Begin” album. That was like being struck by lightning. And then Crabby Appleton’s run, and then a couple of solo albums.

I continued to work with bands in LA all the way up through the late 80s — playing clubs, recording demos, and pursuing record deals. I look back on my music career of over 20 years with a great sense of satisfaction. I worked with so many great musicians and producers, had wonderful adventures and friendships — some brief and some long-lasting.

And I still hear from folks who are listening to the records I made a half a century ago and enjoying my songs! How cool is that? Some of my records have been reissued, some (such as The Millennium) have been rediscovered. The pleasure I derive from having made music that people enjoy is immense. And of course it was cathartic to get all that self-expression out. It would have been terrible for me to have never let all that out.

Any observations on the incredible changes to music in the last 50 years — from singles/LPs/radio to the digital revolution/downloads/streaming?

Wow. That’s a lot to consider. I miss the thrill of bringing home a new record unheard, ripping off the shrink-wrap and setting the needle down on cut one/side one and listening to the album as an entity. Some of those records were life-changing. But we live in a different time now — speed and accessibility have taken over in many areas — not just music. It seems that “disposable” is king. But access can also bring people to music they might not otherwise have encountered — so that part can be beneficial.

Any observations about 2020 — how is it in Oregon and do you see CO-VID creating lasting changes?

I’m sure that there will be lasting changes from the pandemic. What form those will take, and how things will be once we get past this crisis are surely big question marks. Sometimes opportunities arise from the ashes of disaster. We’ll surely need solid leadership and willing citizen participation to get to the next phase. Let’s hope we get there.

And Oregon is a special place. I feel fortunate to be here — been an Oregonian for over thirty years. The forest fires have been pretty devastating this season, as you know. But nature has a way of regenerating in the verdant Northwest, so we’re keeping fingers crossed that green will come back to areas hard hit by the fires.

Future plans?

I plan to stay safe, healthy and alive!

Black Lives Matter March And Racial Unity March, June 2, 2020, Fort Collins.

Dweezil Zappa, Washington’s, Fort Collins, February 22, 2020.

Joshua Bell w Alessio Bax, Lincoln Center, Fort Collins, January 28, 2020.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. March and Celebration, Fort Collins, January 20, 2020.

Movies 2020!!

Series:

Dracula ***

A re-telling and reimagining of Bram Stoker’s famous vampire story. This features a wise-guy ghoul, a hard-as-nails nun and a story update to modern times. In captivity in Part Three, Dracula, played with merciless wit by Claes Bang, even learns to use a personal pad and sends e-mails. This goes so far as to postulate the reason for the vampire’s restless search for blood. It doesn’t matter- there remains the sense that other-worldly powers can still remorselessly rule the pitiful mortal human.

Created by Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat…2020…featuring Claes Bang, Dolly Wells, Morfydd Clark, Jeff Heffernan.

Messiah ****

In a world sorely in need of inspiration comes a powerful new personality who takes on the guise of a spiritual savior. Is he using illusionist tricks to gain attention in a world of instant reknown thanks to the Internet and social media? Did he really create a sandstorm that turned enemies away from invading a city in the Middle East? Is it his tornado that flattens a town in rural Texas, except for a single forlorn church, when he appears in the United States? The real reasons don’t matter as much as the fact that crowds of people rush to support this new “messiah.” As his car caravan moves from Texas to Washington DC- gaining more supporters along the way- politicians take note and make way- and so do the “messiah’s” enemies.

Created by Michael Petroni…2020…featuring Michelle Monaghan, Mehdi Dehbi, John Ortiz, Stefania LaVie Owen.