Music Video Of the Week - May 9, 2025

"Alcatraz" by Leon Russell with the Gap Band  (Go to the link in the upper-right-hand corner.) 

Music Video Of the Week - April 29, 2022

"Tight Rope" by Leon Russell  (Go to the link in the upper-right-hand corner.)

The Concerts For Bangla Desh - Fifty Years

It was fifty years ago today, Sunday, August 1, 1971, that George Harrison staged rock's first major benefit concert.

When the non-contiguous Pakistani region of East Pakistan, also known as Bangladesh, began a war of liberation from the rest of Pakistan with the support of India, the Pakistani military responded brutally, creating a humanitarian disaster that was compounded by a tropical cyclone that hit the region.  Sitar player Ravi Shankar, whose family came from East Pakistan, went to George Harrison and asked him if there was anything he could do.  Harrison did the only thing he, as a musician, knew how to do - stage a benefit concert to raise money for the people of East Pakistan as they strove to overcome the odds of poverty, oppression, and natural disaster and create a new Bangladeshi nation. He was able to get the top musicians of the time to participate, including Billy Preston, Leon Russell, and Shankar himself.  But the biggest coup Harrison pulled off was getting his buddy Bob Dylan - who had only played once concert in the previous five years (the second Isle of Wight festival in 1969) - to take part.

The twin concerts at New York's Madison Square Garden - an afternoon show followed by an evening show - were nothing short of magic.  Backed by a band that included Eric Clapton, bassist Klaus Voormann, drummer Jim Keltner, Pete Ham of Badfinger, and Taj Mahal guitarist Jesse Ed Davis, Harrison performed his biggest Beatles hits and choice cuts from his All Things Must Pass solo album, along with his charity single "Bangla Desh."  Preston also shone when he performed a rousing rendition of his song "That's The Way God Planned It."  Leon Russell - then the hottest singer-songwriter in rock and roll - did an astonishing medley of the Rolling Stones' "Jumpin' Jack Flash" and the Coasters' "Young Blood," bringing rock down to the core of its rhythm and blues roots.  There was great applause when George Harrison brought out a special guest - Ringo Starr, who sang his new song "It Don't Come Easy," providing the closest anyone ever got to a Beatles reunion in the seventies.  (John Lennon had been invited to take part and agreed to do so without his wife Yoko Ono, per Harrison's insistence, but Yoko's objections led to his withdrawal; Paul McCartney agreed to participate provided Harrison agree to the dissolution of the Beatles' legal partnership, to which Harrison said no can do.)    Dylan's sets of each concert were the highlights, though, with Harrison and Russell joining him for one of them.

Ravi Shankar opened each show with his orchestra, performing Indian classical music, at at one show, as seen in the movie, the audience committed a faux pas after several minutes of music when they applauded Shankar and his musicians.  Shankar thanked them for appreciating the tune-up and promised that they'd appreciate the performance even more. 😄

On a negative note, Stephen Stills, who was on tour promoting his second solo album and had performed at the Garden two days earlier, donated his stage and sound equipment to the Bangla Desh concerts but Harrison inexplicably didn't think to invite him to play in them. 

The proceeds from the concert and the subsequent album and movie got held up in all sorts of legal difficulties, but once those problems were all resolved, the money started flowing to Bangladesh - in 2021 marking a half century of independence - totaling $45 million by the 1990s.  Harrison has since been recognized as a farther to the modern Bangladeshi state. Shankar, for the record, was pleased with the results.  "In one day, the whole world knew the name of Bangladesh," he later said. "It was a fantastic occasion."

The Concerts for Bangla Desh is too monumental to do justice to in my Music Video Of the Week feature.  Instead, here's an audio-only video of the concert for your listening pleasure.  (Sound quality may be spotty.) 

Music Video Of the Week - April 30, 2021

"Alcatraz" by Leon Russell (Go to the link in the upper-right-hand corner.)

Elton John At the Troubadour - Fifty Years On

It was fifty years ago today, Tuesday, August 25, 1970, that Elton John played his first American concert - the first show of a six-night engagement at the Troubadour Club in Los Angeles.  UNI Records president Russ Regan, eager to promote his newest discovery from England, was able to get the club packed for Elton's debut.  Among the celebrities who attended Elton's show that first night were Quincy Jones and his wife Peggy Lipton, Linda Ronstadt, Brian Wilson and Mike Love of the Beach Boys, Van Dyke Parks, Randy Newman, David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash, as well as a then-unknown drummer/singer named Don Henley.  (As fate would have it, Elton had already attended a show by the Dillards at the Troubadour shortly before his own, and the opening act was Longbranch Pennywhistle, a duo comprised of Glenn Frey and J.D. Souther.)   But Regan outdid himself by getting Neil Diamond, then the biggest singer-songwriter in America and another UNI artist, to introduce Elton at the beginning of the show.  Part of the reason the club, which had a maximum seating capacity of 300 people, was so packed that night, was because people were under the mistaken impression that Diamond was going to perform there that night. 

Elton, backed by guitaist Caleb Quaye, bassist Dee Murray and drummer Nigel Olsson, didn't exactly get people up on their feet the way the Beatles had in their American debut on Ed Sullivan's variety show six years earlier.  He opened the show with "Your Song," and the response was more polite and respectful than raving.  After a couple of songs on the piano, the guests started talking to each other over drinks, and Elton suddenly found himself reliving the many times he played at local pubs in England, where the clientele would converse over a pint or two and pay little attention to the music.  Frustrated that he wasn't breaking through, Elton kicked his piano stool out from under him, declaring, "Right!  If you won't listen to that, you'll bloody well listen to this!"  Then he started banging on the piano keys like Jerry Lee Lewis.  The fire in him had been lit, and Reginald Dwight became Elton John at that moment.

The crowd responded ecstatically.  Applause and cheers replaced the low din.  With a set that included "Bad Side of the Moon," "Sixty Years On, "Country Comfort" (which would be released in America in January 1971 on Tumbleweed Connection), the explosive "Take Me to the Pilot," and a cover of the Rolling Stones' "Honky Tonk Women" (already performed live by Joe Cocker on his own tour from earlier in the year), Elton had the audience eating out of his hand.  (Sadly, singer-songwriter David Ackles, with whom Elton shared the bill in his six-night residency at the Troubadour, didn't get similar attention.  Ackles, a favorite of Elton's, was destined for obscurity despite his cult status in Britain.) In a review of the show in the Los Angeles Times the following day, music critic Robert Hilburn declared, "Rejoice. Rock music, which has been going through a rather uneventful period lately, has a new star. He’s Elton John, a 23-year-old Englishman whose United States debut Tuesday night at the Troubadour was, in almost every way, magnificent . . ..  His music is so staggeringly original that it is obvious he is not merely operating within a given musical field (such as country or blues or rock) but, like Randy Newman and Laura Nyro among others, creating his own field."

Over the next five nights, other celebrities attended Elton's Troubadour shows, including teen model Kathy Davis and singer-songwriter Leon Russell.  Russell (below), a revered LA session musician who had recently begun his career as a solo artist and who had already amassed a wealth of production, session, and songwriting credits in such a short period that he was called the Master of Space and Time, was at his peak in the rock music world in the early seventies.  When Elton saw Russell in the audience, he almost froze, because he, like everyone else then, was heavily into Russell's music.  But Russell looked back at him from the audience, using eye language to assure him that he was doing fine and to keep going. The two met backstage afterwards, beginning a friendship that would last until Russell's death in 2016.

The Troubadour engagement was just the beginning.  A six-night residency at the Troubadour North in San Francisco immediately followed in early September, and that engagement was followed up by shows in clubs in New York and Philadelphia.  In late October, Elton would return to the States for more shows on a full-fledged tour, which turned him into a bona fide star.  I'll talk about that later.

It should be noted, though, that Elton's Troubadour debut showed how much had changed in pop at the beginning of the seventies.   Pop stars were no longer made in America by a New York-based variety TV show like "The Ed Sullivan Show," which in 1970 was less than a year away from its final airing.  Now they were made by the tastemakers and the movers and shakers in Los Angeles.  In America, as well as in Britain, rock was becoming not only a cultural force but also big business, and Elton John would become a big star . . . ready to give his fans the business.         

Music Video Of the Week - March 27, 2020

"Space Captain," Joe Cocker and Mad Dogs & Englishmen (Go to the link in the upper-right-hand corner.)

A Song For You

Leon Russell, who died the other day at the age of 74, was a musical genius.  The Oklahoma-born Russell began as a session musician in Los Angeles in the sixties and honed his skills as a producer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist working with various performers and playing in the house band for Jimmy O'Neil's  pop show "Shindig."  He was called the Master of Space and Time for all of the sessions he worked on in such a short period.  By the time Russell released his debut album in 1970, he had already co-produced Joe Cocker's second album and led his Mad Dogs and Englishmen touring band.  Russell's sour, abrasive voice brought his personal, evocative lyrics to life.  His greatest songs - "Delta Lady," the haunting ballads "This Masquerade" and "Hummingbird," the gospel-tinged "Stranger In a Strange Land," the biting protest song "Alcatraz," and the intensely personal ballad "A Song For You," among others, have become classics, and his songs have been covered by the Carpenters, B.B. King, Ray Charles, George Benson, and Joe Cocker.  His own covers of Bob Dylan and George Harrison songs were just as accomplished, showing his skills as an arranger.

I was lucky enough to see Leon Russell perform at a concert in New Jersey on March 27, 2015, forty-five years to the day after his and Joe Cocker's historic Mad Dogs and Englishmen show at the Fillmore East in New York.  He walked to the piano with a cane, and he was not the wild man he had once been, but his spirit and talent remained, as well as his ability to tell some wonderfully humorous anecdotes about his career between songs.  It was probably one of the best concerts I'd ever seen.  And we'll never see his like again.  But now that is his life is over, remember when he was singing his songs for us.  R.I.P.    

The Concert For Bangla Desh - Forty Years Later

I saw today, for the first time ever, the documentary film of the Concert For Bangla Desh documentary film forty years to the day after the original concert in New York's Madison Square Garden. It's probably one of the finest concerts - and the greatest benefit concert - in rock and roll history. George Harrison organized it in response to a plea for help from his friend, Indian musician and sitar master Ravi Shankar, whose father was born in Bangladesh (now one word), when the country than known as East Pakistan was fighting for independence from Pakistan proper. The India-Pakistan war that resulted was an embarrassment for the Nixon administration, as I recall - they backed Pakistan, the ultimate loser - but Bangladesh lost a great deal even after winning its independence. The humanitarian crisis that resulted was beyond comprehension, and Shankar hoped that his Beatle buddy Harrison could help do something about it.

Harrison did not disappoint, bringing together some of the greatest rock and roll musicians of the time (and all time, in many instances) for a pair of concerts in which some mighty fine music was generated. Concertgoers supported a good cause with the price of admission to either the afternoon or evening show and got Leon Russell performing a medley of the Rolling Stones' "Jumpin' Jack Flash" and the Coasters' "Young Blood;" Billy Preston offering up his tune "That's the Way God Planned It;" Ringo Starr (the only other Beatle in the show) performing "It Don't Come Easy," his big hit at the time; and Harrison performing solo and Beatles tunes. And this all-star band included Eric Clapton, Klaus Voorman, and Taj Mahal guitarist Jesse Ed Davis.

But the biggest surprise for the audience was Bob Dylan, then making few public appearances - coming onstage to sing classics such as "Blowin' In the Wind" and "Just Like a Woman" with Harrison and Russell backing him on guitar and bass, respectively - and backing vocals. Magic!

The Concerts for Bangla Desh were far more focused, musically and philanthropically, than many other benefit concerts. It targeted a specific cause for relief in a specific place. And unlike Live Aid, which tried to be all things to all people by offering a sixteen-hour revue of popular performers that suggested quantity more than quality (what was Duran Duran doing at that show, anyway), the Bangla Desh shows had a small list of like-minded musicians for whom the music mattered as much as the cause. (After all, the shows started off with Ravi Shankar and his group Indian musicians playing a disciplined form of music that required attention and concentration to listen to as well as play.) George Harrison didn't try to draw more people by inviting the Osmonds to take part, did he?

Although it took more than a decade for the proceeds from the concert to make it to Bangladesh, it was still a success on balance. Money from record and video sales has continued to go to relief for what is still a very poor country. And they need it.

Learn more by going here.

Elected

Once again, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted new members into its roster, and this year their list of honorees is really . . . not awful! Heavier rock is represented here by Alice Cooper, and Tom Waits and Neil Diamond represent the influence of the singer-songwriter on the form; indeed, Waits and Diamond were responsible for songs that produced some pretty good pop-rock from performers who covered them.

The idiocies, though, remain: Leon Russell, who was a recording artist in his own right with classic albums such as Leon Russell and the Shelter People, was inducted for his session work with other artists. Specifically, he was given the Rock Hall’s "Award for Recording Excellence," which, the hall says, replaces the sideman category. Funny, but the Rock Hall's official Web site still refers to Russell as an inductee in the "sidemen" category. And while the Hall of Fame found time to induct Elektra Records founder Jac Holzman and Specialty Records founder Art Rupe in the non-performer category (okay, Rupe's label did give us Little Richard and Lloyd Price), they haven't inducted Beatles manager Brian Epstein. Still. I mean, this man got the Fabs a recording contract with the Parlophone label of EMI - "the greatest recording organization in the world" - at a time when most labels, including other EMI labels, wouldn't even grant them an audition. (Decca did, of course, and on the basis of their audition tapes, I have to admit that I probably wouldn't have signed the Beatles then either. But that's another post.)

And once again, as I always do at this time, I have to re-iterate my annual grievances: The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is controlled by a bunch of rock critics who induct performers based on the interest in honoring "diversity" and on the idea that America is the center of the universe, thus conflating the major defect of the American left with that of the American right. So rappers get into this "rock and roll" hall of fame, and Madonna got in after being eligible for one nanosecond, bypassing Jeff Beck, Little Anthony and the Imperials, the Hollies, and other post-Madge inductees. No induction of foreign acts like Family (because Americans have never heard of them), Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel (ditto), Rush (Canadian '70s prog-metal band that appeals to far too many white male suburbanites), Jethro Tull (British '70s prog-folk-rock band that appeals to far too many white male suburbanites), or Fairport Convention (musically like Jethro Tull but with more critical acclaim, yet have sold far too few records to people of any race, gender or residential status to be taken seriously). And Lady Gaga will get in ahead of all of them.

Wait, how did Alice get in? :-D

Expect the same rant, same time, next year. This year, I take a look at the five Rock and Roll Hall of Fame performer inductees for 2011 . . . and Leon Russell.

Alice Cooper. Among the performer inductees for 2011, Alice Cooper may not be the most deserving. But he (or they, as the name Alice Cooper originally applied to the group that the man born Vincent Furnier fronted from 1969 to 1974) is certainly the most fun. "I'm Eighteen" is one of the great teenage rock anthems, with its slyly ironic lyrics and intense, crunching guitar riffs. Late adolescence never sounded better. The humor of "School's Out" and "Elected" and the sneering anger of "No More Mr. Nice Guy" are about as rebellious as mainstream seventies rock got.

Neil Diamond. Full disclosure requires me to state that my mother is a huge Neil Diamond fan - a "Diamond Head," if you will - so I have some prejudice here in defending Diamond's induction. Not to mention the fact that my mother exposed me to his music so often, I have developed an immunity to him. :-D But, yes, while he did write "Play Me" and "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" (and remade The Jazz Singer), Diamond also wrote some of the greatest rock and roll songs of the late sixties and early seventies. Deep Purple covered "Kentucky Woman." The Monkees, with their recording of "I'm a Believer," made believers out of many listeners in the argument for Neil's rock credibility. And it's hard to make the argument against Diamond's induction into the Hall of Fame when you have his own recordings of "Cherry Cherry" and "Cracklin' Rosie," among other songs, to contend with. And fess up, folks; if not for the line about his chair not hearing him, don't you think "I Am, I Said" - a pop reworking of Descartian philosophy - would get more respect?

Dr. John. The Night Tripper of New Orleans is the most deserving of the 2011 inductees by a wide margin. What can you say about the artist legally known as Mac Rebbenack that hasn't already been said? He is more instrumental in bringing the spicy gumbo sounds of New Orleans music to a wide audience than anyone except Fats Domino. So why hadn't the Doctor been inducted sooner? I guess he was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time. :-D

Darlene Love. She is the voice on so many great records from the early sixties and was one of those artists who kept rock and roll alive when popular music was largely stagnant and the closest we had to a rock and roll star was President Kennedy. So, yes, she belongs here.

Tom Waits. Waits's voice is no one's idea of pretty, but when you get past his heavy rasp and look at all of the songs he's responsible for, and when you consider all the notable covers they generated - records such as "Downtown Train" as recorded by Rod Stewart, "Ol' 55" as recorded by the Eagles, and "Jersey Girl" as recorded by Bruce Springsteen - well . . .. Well - it's the same thing with Neil Diamond's songs. You look at the list and think, Jesus Christ, look what he wrote! Here it is, a moment of Zen for Waits fan Jon Stewart.

And, oh yes . . .

Leon Russell. I appreciate his induction, but he should be in as a performer, not as a sideman. When you consider the distinctively sour, worldly, abrasive vocals he brought to his own songs and to covers of Bob Dylan, George Harrison, and Rolling Stones tunes, you realize just how engaging and spirited Leon is as a frontman. And as a songwriter - "Delta Lady," "This Masquerade," "A Song For You," "Superstar" (with Bonnie Bramlett) - again, look at what he wrote! And that's just a list of songs famously covered by others. Need I bring up "Tightrope," "Lady Blue" (a hit for Leon in 1975) and "Home Sweet Oklahoma?"

Yes, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's directors are still foolish. But hey, as Leon might say, if it wasn't for bad, they'd be good.

And remember . . .. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was originally established to honor rock and roll pioneers but has since been expanded to include other popular styles. Yada, yada, yada . . ..