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by Alexander Heigl

23 Apr 2012


Levon Helm passed away April 19, at the age of 71. The outpouring of grief following his passing was massive, and deserved—Helm’s music touched many lives through his long career. But in a way, it felt incongruous with his life: Helm’s life in music was a purer thing—it never felt like he was chasing celebrity or fame, it was just something that needed doing.

The best parts of Helm’s biography read like the stuff of legend: he famously quit touring with his Band bandmates on Bob Dylan’s electric jaunt in 1966 to go work on an oil rig, the kind of move that’s practically a Bruce Springsteen album in and of itself. But the beautiful thing about Helm’s life is that he carried it out without conceit, without a sense of self. Unlike Robbie Robertson, who likely would have actually written an album about quitting a touring group to work on an oil rig, Helm just did it, and then went back to playing music.

by Sean Murphy

29 Feb 2012


Two questions: 1. Is that the most bad-ass picture ever taken of a pop icon? 2. Is there a more bad-ass pop icon who’s ever walked the planet?

(Those questions are rhetorical in case you didn’t already know.)

Sex, drugs and rock and roll? The late Johnny Cash (who would’ve turned 80 on February 26th) was a combination of Keith Richards, Elvis Presley, and Public Enemy, only he did it first and no one before, or since, ever did it quite like him.

Quite literally too big (or complicated, or cool) to be contained by labels, he dabbled in rock and roll, rockabilly, blues, gospel, and folk. And while he can—and should—be considered an obvious lock for the Mt. Rushmore of Country Music, Cash was an American who wrote and sang about the country that made him. Even though at various times Kris Kristofferson attributed multiple sources of inspiration for his song “The Pilgrim, Chapter 33”, it is hardly a stretch to imagine who he had in mind for these lyrics (“He’s a poet, he’s a picker / He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher / He’s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he’s stoned / He’s a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction / Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home”). Is there a better description out there for the icon who came to be known as The Man in Black?

by Sean Murphy

16 Feb 2012


Sadly, only the most optimistic or naive observers did not see this coming. Indeed, it is fair, if harsh, to wonder how it took so long. I make it a habit to avoid any and all “reality TV” shows, but it did not demand sustained viewing of Houston and then-husband Bobby Brown’s public spectacle to see that all was far from well in her world.

On the other hand, who felt comfortable making a prediction? For every Amy Winehouse there is a Keith Richards. For every Jimi Hendrix there is an Eddie Van Halen. Some of our rock stars have the combination of good genes, dumb luck, and, perhaps, destiny keeping them from snuffing themselves out.

It’s a shame: so much talent, so much unrealized potential. Same old song and dance, really. Except for two things.

by Sean Murphy

3 Feb 2012


A genuine American icon has left the planet.  People born during or after the ‘80s might know Soul Train creator and host Don Cornelius mostly from name-checks in interviews, songs, and clips on YouTube. And there is nothing wrong with that. But for us older folks, we knew the man. Some of us grew up with him.

If a picture can sometimes speak more eloquently than words, a video can function as a truth bomb that tells you all you need to know. Check it out:


I only have a handful of comments. The Hair. The Glasses. The Shirt. The Pants (did you see those Liberty Bell Bottoms flowing when he moved up that line?). And The VOICE.

by Alexander Heigl

25 Jan 2012


Etta James died last Friday, and the outpouring of praise and tributes came as usual. That’s not to say she wasn’t deserving of the various titles that came up, like Jerry Wexler’s famous coronation “the greatest of all modern blues singers”. But for James, she’d been hearing it for a while, and for someone like her, it was quite a thing to be memorialized before she felt she was done.

Despite recording some of the most indelible, iconic R&B tracks of the 1950s and ‘60s, James never achieved the same level of fame or recognition that some of her peers did. She consistently charted on the R&B charts and remained a top concert draw, but crossover success eluded her; she never became an Aretha Franklin or Diana Ross. Not that her disposition and habits would have let her—James lost good portions of her career to her drug habit, and her forceful personality would prove as much a drawback as an asset.

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