My friend, writer/producer George Francisco, says that reading Hollyblogs reminds him of long nights in too many bars telling stories. And he’s right -- that’s exactly what I assume a Hollyblog (or, for that matter, any good story) to be. For example, how could anyone chronicle the history of the postwar world without reading Dean Acheson’s “Present at the Creation,” in which the former Secretary of State laid out the plan that, eventually, brought the Soviet Union to its knees.
Let’s call this “Present at the Creation” … of modern rock ‘n’ roll.
It’s the story of almost the exact moment in the early ‘70s that, following the breakup of the Beatles the year before, the Rolling Stones, lead by lead singer Mick Jagger and his guitarist/cowriter Keith Richards, went from being the #2 English group to “the world’s greatest rock’n’roll band” (as they’re now normally called).
And fortunately or unfortunately, I was there.
The ascent was symbolized by the recording that winter of “Exile on Main Street” the Stone’s first American album -- signaled by their use of the famous Robert Frank photos of Southern blacks and other outcasts on the cover.
More importantly, they recorded it largely in L.A. with an American backing band -- the same TexArkana/ Oklahoma crew that Leon Russell had put together the year before for Joe Cocker’s “Mad Dogs and Englishman” tour, including the famous horn duo of trumpeter Jim Price and sax player Bobby Keys (who plays with the Stones till this day).
Who can’t remember those songs, from “Happy”” to “Tumbling Dice”?” They still form the bedrock of the Stones' songbook (available for $.99 each from Amazon).
Now understand, in the ‘70s we were all younger and stupider than today (we hope!) Case in point: Me. On the first Friday of the high school Christmas break that year, I was, typically, mouthing off about something I didn’t know -- having just read Jack Kerouc’s “On the Road,” I told everyone at the Friday night party that you could hitchhike cross country in three days (which the famed Dean Moriarty did in the book).
Everyone, of course, told me I was crazy -- so like any testosterone-fueled youth, I had to prove them wrong.
With just a down jacket on my back, by midnight I had stuck my thumb out (you could do that in those days) on Route 17 in upstate New York headed for California. I won’t bore you with the details (hitching isn’t nearly as romantic at it sounds) … but suffice to say I made it.
Now, here’s where I admit I had more motivation than most -- an old girlfriend of mine named Betsy had recently moved to Beverly Hills and been regaling me with stories of the Tinsel Town highlife. Turns out her long-lost cousin Judy Deben-Keys, a stunningly beautiful ex-model, was now married to saxophonist Bobby Keys. (You first heard his classic sax solo on “Honky Tank Woman.”)
The ascent was symbolized by the recording that winter of “Exile on Main Street” the Stone’s first American album -- signaled by their use of the famous Robert Frank photos of Southern blacks and other outcasts on the cover.
