Playlist of Summer 2015! PARTY
I daydreamed of my mother traveling to LA in the 60s and socializing with the musicians in Laurel Canyon. She was a little too young for that.
My dad was perfectly aged to be a late 60s bohemian, but instead he just dated them while maintaining his workaday blue collar lifestyle, buying homes and driving pickup trucks. He's a strange combination of wildness and staid Americana. When I was a little girl, I would flinch and silently swallow tears during his infrequent, but memorable rages, but now sympathize more with my dad's angry side, and sometimes I shock even he with my acidic comments about the world. Sorry, dad, but I guess you shouldn't be that surprised?
But here's something I love:
Eric Burdon and his subdued and wry body language in this video which could otherwise be another silly 60s beach party. He acts as though he's written the lyrics himself. But we know he didn't - he just loves good music.
Because no matter how upbeat it is, nothing is sadder than Sam Cook's version. Unlike most hit artists of the day, Sam actually wrote this song. If you've ever read about his death, you're unable to hear his voice without wanting to clench your fingernails into your fist. Police cover up in civil rights era Los Angeles. What's changed?
But let's go back to olde towne.