OPINION
4A
THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 2016
Forever young: Joan Baez creates
an epiphany, but will Patti Smith?
Triangle player
scales back disdain
for modern music
By PATRICK WEBB
For EO Media Group
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change lives.
E
I have had two.
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British glam rock band
Slade released “Cum On
Feel The Noize.”
I was a mid-teenager. It
was 1973, the year when
Billie Jean King beat
Bobby Riggs, Skylab was
launched and Pinochet led
a coup in Chile.
And I gave up on any
Patrick
new popular music.
Webb
Perhaps it was the
grammarian in me. Perhaps because the former
skinhead band’s song was moronic — yet still
a “hit.” Either way, my decision seemed irrevo-
cable.
Though the Beatles, Stones and Who had
provided my childhood soundtrack, from then
onward I reverted to Mozart and classical com-
posers whose works I had played during my
brief stint in the back row of the orchestra.
My English high school crowded grades 6
through 12 together. In seventh, having just end-
ed a phase in which I ran with a girls’ gang, I
petitioned Doc Morgan to join his corps of mu-
sicians.
A recovering asthmatic is anathema in brass
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oned. One small hitch: I can’t read music.
This was overcome by bassoon player Anne
Rivers and timpanist Keith Griggs, senior stu-
dents who took pity on the diminutive wannabe
sitting upstage left. At early rehearsals, one or
both would turn and nod for me to hit my trian-
gle, bang the side drum or rattle the tambourine.
Our secret signals bought me time to memorize
each piece, using the same tricks I still use for the
stage. If Doc suspected, he never let on.
Massinet’s “Le Cid,” Smetana’s “The
Moldau” and two rousing cymbal bits from
“Carmen” were my favorites. Dvorak’s “New
World Symphony,” the only piece I have played
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part, too. Also, one cymbal crash 1 minute and
46 seconds into the fourth movement. Trust me,
it’s there, pianissimo.
Yet I was surrounded by popular sound. My
older brother embraced Bob Dylan, well before
protest was fashionable, and continues his long,
strange trip with the Grateful Dead. His passion
for that era continued through a retail career
which culminated in owning his own music
store. At home, he played Creedence Clearwater
Revival’s “Down on the Corner” 49 consecutive
times until our Mum said enough.
Classmates tried to educate me. Chris Tarry,
a gorgeous artist, introduced me to reggae; Phil
Townsend, the likable fellow two desks behind
me, touted Wishbone Ash; Peter Meecham,
my rival for scrum half on the rugby team, of-
fered Emerson, Lake and Palmer. In fact, their
“Pictures At An Exhibition” album spawned a
long time quest to collect contrasting versions of
Mussorsky’s wonderwork, a search revitalized
by jazz pianist Yaron Gottfried and the Portland
Chamber Orchestra at Astoria’s Liberty Theater
in May 2014.
What came next
As I reluctantly lurched into adulthood, my
resolve rarely faltered. Intriguing lionhearted
singer Kate Bush disappeared; soundtracks to
“Grease,” “Flashdance” and Saturday Night
Fever” offered opportunities to tap toes, though
the Bee Gees’ falsettos did grate. My devotion
Photo courtesy Webb family
Patrick Webb, aged 14 in 1972, checks over the Oscar-nominated soundtrack album for the Gregory Peck Western “The Big Coun-
try.” Behind him is the sleeve for the ballet music for the movie “Tales of Beatrix Potter,” a family favorite. He gave up on popular
music in 1973 after a dreadful glam rock release, but is revisiting the sounds of the era.
‘So you think my
singing’s out of
time, well it makes
me money.’
Lyric from Slade’s
‘Cum On Feel The Noize,’ 1973
W riter’s
N otebook
Submitted photo
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along with my generation at the Moore Theatre,
Patrick Webb/For EO Media Group
I recalled the villain in “Quigley Down Under,”
Attending a Joan Baez concert at the MXVW EHIRUH WKH ¿QDO JXQ¿JKW ZKR ODPHQWV KH
Moore Theater in Seattle in late 2014 was was born in the wrong century. For me, perhaps
enjoyable, but not akin to a religious ex- the wrong decade. Too young. I have had it easy.
to theater embraced musicals from “Phantom” to perience, says Patrick Webb. Her con- I could have been a contender; instead, I was a
temporary, Patti Smith, who offers rather spectator.
“Cats,” plus my two favorite operas.
more edge, is the next part of his music
Then came epiphany No. 2.
Yet I have the serenity to accept this.
The context of that life-changer is America’s appreciation experiment Monday.
Meanwhile, I have begun a privately fund-
undisputed claim to fame: shopping. Before my
ed study to determine whether it is possible to
annual return to my birthplace, I ask family for
I picked up the booklet that came with the al- properly appreciate music from the late 1960s
wish lists of rare CDs, then I scour Western mu- bum. Hours later, I found myself seated on the and 1970s without simultaneously consuming
sic stores. Portland, Seattle and Spokane, Wash., ÀRRUREOLYLRXVWRWLPHKXQJHUWKLUVWRUGLVFRP mind- or mood-altering substances. I welcome
offer decent ones, Vegas and Reno even better. fort, soaking up her biography, learning about suggestions to educate my late-to-the-party ear.
Staff at one in downtown Vancouver, Wash., her activism, her drive to right wrongs.
Thanks to the Liberty, I’ve enjoyed Don Mc-
even greet me by name.
I played all 77 tracks. “Weary Mothers,” Lean, Judy Collins and Dan Hicks. I saw Mick-
Doing this I have learned about Little Feat, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “The Night ey Hart in Portland, though I didn’t understand
Lou Reed, Levon Helm, Duane Allman, Judy 7KH\'URYH2OG'L[LH'RZQ´¿OOHGWKHURRP a beat. I have a ticket for Patti Smith, who will
Henske and Dory Previn. Buffy St. Marie is a fa- :KHQ KHU YRLFH KLW WKH ¿UVW WKUHH QRWHV RI revisit her 1975 “Horses” album in Seattle Mon-
PLOLDUIDFHDV,ÀLSWKURXJKFUDFNHGMHZHOFDVHV, “Amazing Grace,” my light went on.
day night. I have been researching by listening.
know to buy “Formerly the Warlocks,” whatever
I realized I had spent 38 years being an ob- 1R¿UPFRQFOXVLRQV\HWH[FHSWWKDWSOD\LQJKHU
its condition. Occasionally I listen before I cush- jective journalist, missing the opportunity to use CDs on the car stereo when driving those curves
ion them in my checked baggage.
an available bully pulpit to make the world a bet- to Naselle, Washington, is a risky undertaking.
Then came “Joan Baez: The Complete A&M ter place. No, I do not think my career a waste.
Another mission is to collect all 36 “Dick’s
Recordings.”
After all, I dedicated my work-life to something Picks,” rare recordings of Grateful Dead con-
I discovered the sought-after boxed set sur- worthwhile: bringing people their local news. certs, for a family fan. It would be entirely un-
prisingly easily; it sat at home, on a pile, ready But I had rarely commented on it.
ethical to use this platform to ask North Coast
to be packed. I knew her only from growing up
That’s all. That was my private epiphany. It Deadheads to assist. But I am six short of the set,
with Dylan’s music, both pleading to remain for- was less of a regret than a realization.
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ever young. I slotted one of the four CDs into the
English-born Patrick Webb is a North Coast
Acceptance
player. “Prison Trilogy,” “Rainbow Road” and
writer and former managing editor of The Dai-
I attended a Joan Baez concert in Seattle a O\$VWRULDQ&RQWDFWKLPRQ)DFHERRN¿QGWKH
“Love Song to a Stranger” whispered out of the
year ago, and was mildly disappointed. Her voice panda picture).
speakers with a shiver-inducing intensity.
Buying the CD box set of “Joan Baez: The
Complete A&M Recordings” as a gift for a
relative led to an epiphany for Patrick Webb
as he pondered his journalism career and
his disdain for popular music after 1973.
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