Tribute Bands

I once heard some cynically conclude that being a tribute artist is a “waste of a life.” I disagree, for several reasons.

1. They help diminish the grief of losing our favorite artists, and there are fewer higher purposes than softening the burden of grief.
2. On one hand, it’s sad that nobody on the stage was actually in the original band. On the other, these are people who have obsessed, even more than the biggest fan, about every detail of their music. This makes them worthy of respect. After all, it’s the love of the music that matters, not who’s singing it. Of course I’d rather see the actual artist up there, but someone who loves them that much is worth watching too. We can’t bring them back to life, but capturing their spirit sure helps lighten the load of missing them. It’s about love and celebration of all they were and all they gave us.
3. If the band/artist absolutely nails the original band’s sound down to the smallest detail, we can close our eyes and remember our own smallest details – of when that music first grabbed us, made us feel more deeply, learn something new about the world or ourselves, and gave us the kind of joy only music can.

Here’s a good example of what I’m talking about when I say “nailed it.”

When I listen to a Beach Boys tribute band like The Fendertones, I remember driving home from the beach (I was born and raised in Southern California) with my high school girlfriend, stroking her hair as she lay sleeping on my lap (cars had couches for front seats back then), the sun setting in my rearview mirror, and The Warmth of the Sun playing on a cassette tape. I think of laying on lounge chairs by my parents’ pool, drenched in Tropical Blend tanning oil, my eyelids bright red from facing the sun, friends jumping off the roof into the pool while Fun Fun Fun blasted from a radio. It doesn’t matter to me if I’m listening to the actual Beach Boys. These guys loved them as much, maybe even more, than I ever did.

Very few artists had a greater influence on me than John Denver did, particularly his love of the environment, and promotion of sustainable ecology and human compassion. For that, there’s this guy – Jim Curry – who has John Denver’s voice DOWN –

Or Ted Vigil, who looks like John’s twin brother and does a darn good impression of him too – 

 

I suppose I just love people who love the same things I do. They’re my family whether or not we’ve ever met. I love surfing culture thanks to The Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, The Surfari’s, Frankie and Annette movies, and access to Malibu, especially now that I’m leaving California due to overcrowding, crime, gangs, etc., I love the people who help keep my memory of it alive, and who make me feel like maybe all is not lost after all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John Denver – In Memoriam

Twenty long years ago, it happened, the day every John Denver fan wishes he/she could go back to, swarm that airport and sabotage the experimental plane John Denver would crash into the Pacific Ocean that day, or at least beg him not to fly. But he did, and all his fans have left is his music and the memories of the time when he was alive, when they and America were younger and more innocent.

It’s easy to be sad and cynical, but listening to the treasure trove of music John left us doesn’t allow it. Every song is an embrace, a conversation with a good friend, a celebration of the sweet and simple. Collectively, it is a call to live life the way John did – deeply, completely, fearlessly, and with great love for all living things.

I wrote a poem many years ago after my brother died. Ironically, he died only four days after John, on 10/16/97, but it applies just as much to John or anyone else we have loved and lost. I hope it gives some comfort.

Rest in peace, Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr.

How We Survive

If we are fortunate,
we are given a warning.

If not,
there is only the sudden horror,
the wrench of being torn apart;
of being reminded
that nothing is permanent,
not even the ones we love,
the ones our lives revolve around.

Life is a fragile affair.
We are all dancing
on the edge of a precipice,
a dizzying cliff so high
we can’t see the bottom.

One by one,
we lose those we love most
into the dark ravine.

So we must cherish them
without reservation.
Now.
Today.
This minute.
We will lose them
or they will lose us
someday.
This is certain.
There is no time for bickering.
And their loss
will leave a great pit in our hearts;
a pit we struggle to avoid
during the day
and fall into at night.

Some,
unable to accept this loss,
unable to determine
the value of life without them,
jump into that black pit
spiritually or physically,
hoping to find them there.

And some survive
the shock,
the denial,
the horror,
the bargaining,
the barren, empty aching,
the unanswered prayers,
the sleepless nights
when their breath is crushed
under the weight of silence
and all that it means.

Somehow, some survive all that and,
like a flower opening after a storm,
they slowly begin to remember
the one they lost
in a different way . . .

The laughter,
the irrepressible spirit,
the generous heart,
the way their smile made them feel,
the encouragement they gave
even as their own dreams were dying.

And in time, they fill the pit
with other memories,
the only memories that really matter.

We will still cry.
We will always cry.
But with loving reflection
more than hopeless longing.

And that is how we survive.
That is how the story should end.
That is how they would want it to be.

– Mark Rickerby

Memories of John Denver

My parents moved fifteen times before I was fifteen years old so I spent a lot of time alone. I remember sitting in my room in a house on a hill in Sun Valley, California, listening to music with headphones on, finding comfort and even guidance in some lyrics, but only annoyance and more confusion in other music of the time. (The 1970’s) One can only deduce that much of it was written under the influence of psychotropic, hallucinogenic substances. To a kid or anyone else struggling to figure out the world and people, clear guidance is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, songs that became popular and were played over and over again were not clear at all. Here are a few examples.

1.
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky and they
STAND THERE!
(Roundabout by Yes. Not helpful.)

2.
Mars ain’t the kind of place
to raise your kids.
In fact, it’s cold as hell
and there’s no one there to raise them
if you did.
(Rocket Man by Elton John. Again, not helpful.)

3.
Some people call me Maurice ’cause I speak of the pompitous of love.

(The Joker by The Steve Miller Band. I really like this song but what the heck is going on with this lyric? I heard Steve even made up the word “pompitous” just to confuse people even more. File under Not Helpful.)

4.
“I am”… I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

(I am, I Said by Neil Diamond, apparently tiring of his rich and famous singer life and attempting to tap into Rene Descartes’ territory.)

5.
Muskrat Suzie, Muskrat Sam
Do the jitterbug at a Muskrat Land
And they shimmy, Sam is so skinny

(Muskrat Love by Captain and Tennille. Originally recorded by America. I remember liking this song’s soft, gentle, soothing quality but I didn’t know what a muskrat was, and just having the word “rat” in its name made the song hard to like because one of them that got stuck in our garage took a chunk out of the front wheel of my beloved Big Wheel, either because it was starving or dulling its front teeth, which I hear will grow and grow forever (kind of like human fingernails) and cause the rat to starve to death because it can’t shut its mouth. Yet another reason to not like rats, muskrats, or any other kind of rat. Or songs about rat love.)

6.
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
’cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again

(MacArthur Park by Donna Summer. Even as a kid, I knew a weird metaphor when I heard one.)

7.
A Horse With No Name by America – the entire song, but here are the more confusing lyrics of the entire nightmarish bunch.

You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain

And yet a hit song played repeatedly forever and ever.

8.
‘Cause the free wind is blowin’ through your hair
And the days surround your daylight there
Seasons crying no despair
Alligator lizards in the air, in the air

(Ventura Highway – America. I like this song melodically, too, but again, these lyrics only added to the already immense confusion of my youth.)

One singer more than any other rescued me. His name was John Denver.

He was the best-selling singer of the 1970’s. In other words, what Elvis was to the 50’s and The Beatles were to the 60’s, John was to the 70’s.  He was so popular then and even today because he was able to write easy-to-understand but deeply emotional lyrics.

I had a speech teacher in college who said if I had a choice between a simple word and an obscure one, I should choose the simple one because, though the obscure one might impress a few people, it would cause many others to lose track of what I was saying, and if the audience didn’t understand, it was my fault, not theirs.

My brother went to the dark side, listening to not only confusing lyrics but deeply toxic ones by death metal groups. I warned him that music is like a chant – it gets into our psyches more deeply than anything else because we listen to it hundreds, even thousands of times, and melodies (using the term loosely) and rhyming verse are easy for the human mind to remember. We can be purified or polluted by music. As with everything in life, it is always our choice whether we see the bars of our prison or the stars beyond them.

John helped audiences put their own difficult feelings into words, not confuse them even more. That’s what great writers, poets and singers should do. For example, after all the lyrics above, isn’t this refreshing?

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely.
Sunshine almost always makes me high.
(Sunshine)

I am the eagle. I live in high country
in rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky.
I am the hawk and there’s blood on my feathers
but time is still turning, they soon will be dry.
And all those who see me, and all who believe in me
share in the freedom I feel when I fly.
(The Eagle and The Hawk)

Well, I got me a fine wife, I got my old fiddle.
When the sun’s coming’ up, I got cakes on the griddle.
Life ain’t nothin’ but a funny, funny riddle.
(Thank God I’m a Country Boy.)

Almost heaven, West Virginia.
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.
Life is old there, older than the trees.
Younger than the mountains, blowin’ like the breeze.
Country roads, take me home
to the place I belong.
West Virginia, mountain momma,
take me home, country roads.”
(Take Me Home, Country Roads)

You fill up my senses
like a night in a forest,
like the mountains in springtime,
like a walk in the rain,
like a storm in the desert,
like a sleepy blue ocean,
you fill up my senses,
come fill me again.
(Annie’s Song)

I learned how to write from John Denver, how to love and respect nature, and how to live a good and decent life. He helped me climb out of one of the loneliest times in my life and invited me to explore the fields, forests, rivers and mountains of Colorado with him that he loved so much. The best artists can do that. They take you along. They transport you out of the world you’re in and show you how great life can be if you never knew, or remind you if you’ve forgotten. That’s the kind of artist I want to be. 

Get John’s music here – https://www.amazon.com/John-Denver/e/B000AR80Z0/mrw02-20