Of CSN&Y & Chick Singers

Lately, as I've begun my attempt to write Uncorrected Proof: The Hippie Years manuscript, I've been listening to all those records we spun in those far out and not so far out years. In that spirit the Psychedelic Eskimo lent me Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's Deja Vu--a record that I probably heard five times a week for a year or two when I was a kid. I don't think I've listened to it in its entirety since. I've always known that it was a superduperstar record but that doesn't make it necessarily worth beans as a recording here in the latter day. But you know what? I dig it, man! Those Graham Nash songs, "Teach Your Children" and, especially, "Our House," are a bit treacly, but it would be hard to think of the record without them. Sentimentality, paranoia ("Almost Cut My Hair"), stoned nostalgia ("Helpless")--these elements make it the quintessential hippie record for me.

The PE also loaned me a couple of Joni Mitchell slabs o' wax: Ladies of the Canyon and Blue. I've been listening to Joni increasingly over the last few years but didn't own these two hippie classics.

More on Joni in the future, but as I tell you that I played Sandy Denny's Sandy on CD, let's address my long time resistance to chick singers. I don't consider myself any more sexist than the next male human, but a glance at my record collection would have you thinking otherwise. I'm sure it's a hangover of my rockist youth when only Heart might break through the barrier. I might have wanted to sleep with Stevie Nicks and Linda Rondstadt, but would I have wanted to listen to them? No! Terrible, I know.

In the intervening years, my investigations of jazz and country music and soul spurred me on to investigate the distaff side of the musical arts. But past Emmylou Harris, whom I collected avidly (and had a big crush on), I still maintained resistance to a woman and a guitar. Dummy!

In the further intervening years, that resistance has dropped (Joni, Laura, Bobbie, Gillian, Judee), despite the rise of Lillith Fair type artists. I've just learned to step lightly...

So, Sandy Denny's second solo record, Sandy (1972). Get this into your life, people! A wonderful mingling of rueful confession, pop melodies, and more traditional English folk. Most of the Fairport Convention guys are playing on it (get their records when she's the lead singer) as a nice bonus. There is so much English folk soul in Denny's voice, it boggles my mind why this wasn't a hit. Believe me, you'll be hooked after the first song, "It'll Take a Long Time." And for you cock rockists, remember, S.D. was the only chick to ever sing on a Led Zeppelin record--"The Ballad of Evermore," on LZ IV.

Over in vinyl Jazzland, it's been a varied lot: the Jimmy Giuffre 3's self-titled record (on Atlantic) and Dexter Gordon's Our Man in Paris (on Blue Note). The Giuffre record is that sort of subdued but precise white jazz that at first stimulates me but then leaves me wanting less. I mean, I like this record and would be curious to hear some more by this guy, but only during certain late Sunday afternoons...

The Dexter Gordon is a thrill. Why is this the only record of his that I own? Creative hard bop driven by the Coleman Hawkins/Ben Websterish tenor of D.G. Bop innovators Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke are also playing on this session. An example of some of the great music that was made by African-American expatriates in the City of Lights. The highlight for me is a lovely "Willow Weep for Me."