The Lair of the Silver Fox.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Another Birthday Wish

In an upstairs room in Blackpool,

By the side of a northern sea,

The army had my father

And my mother was having me.

Wow. What can I say about Graham Nash without leaving out a ton of stuff?

The guy's accomplished so much in sixty-nine years (as of today!) that it's truly mind-boggling. If I try to include all of it, it'll be... well... it'll be about as long as one of my usual lengthy posts, I suppose.

But I digress. (Focus, Foxy, focus!)

I could write about his work with the Hollies, one of the most successful of the "British Invasion" groups of the 1960s. I could write about his work as part of Crosby, Stills, and Nash. I could write about his work with Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I could write about his work with David Crosby alone. Or his solo work. Or his photography. Or his die-hard political activism. Or...

Oh, heck, why don't I do what I usually do, and give this a long-winded personal slant before shuffling off with a "Thanks for your time?"

I was a fan of the Hollies when I was a kid, but couldn't have given you his name or that of any other member of that group if you'd told me you'd take me to the newsstand and buy me a stack of twelve-cent comic books. But once he'd left the Hollies to form Crosby, Stills, and Nash... Well, it was kinda hard to escape knowing the names of that band's members.

His first solo LP, 1971's Songs for Beginners, contained a Top 40 hit called "Chicago." I loved the song and fell in love with the rest of the album, eventually.

In the early 1970s, my mother and I took my sister's 1969 Chevy El Camino to New York to visit some relatives, and my sister allowed me to bring a handful of her state-of-the-art 8-track tapes. I brought Led Zeppelin's first album and Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bayou Country, but -- for the sake of my mom, a captive audience -- I brought some mellower stuff, too. Donovan's Greatest Hits. Ten Years Together by Peter, Paul, and Mary. And Songs for Beginners.

By the time I'd returned from New York, that album had made the list of my personal all-time favorites, where it remains to this day. If I could, I'd tie you down and make you listen to the whole damned thing, just to make a point. Since I can't, here's just one of its songs, if you care to hear it.

Another anecdote: In 1995, I saw a program called Rock 'n' Roll Revolution: The British Invade America. It was hosted by both Nash and the lovely Michelle Phillips (formerly of the Mamas and the Papas). She kept gushing about how when she was younger, in the 1960s, she had a tremendous crush on him. (This was after she'd become a well-known singer in her own right, by the way.) His attitude was more or less like, "Wow, I wish I'd known that then!" They actually did meet during that period, however. In fact, it was her Mamas and the Papas band-mate Mama Cass Elliot who introduced Nash to Stephen Stills and David Crosby!

(I sat there watching the show, thinking, "Graham, to hell with the taping! Take her off-stage now! This is Michelle-freakin'-Phillips we're talking about!")

Michelle-freakin'-Phillips in 2003

Okay, okay, fellow babies. I'm gonna sign off now so I can post this sucker while it's still Graham's birthday. And maybe next February 2nd, if you're real good, I'll tell you about the time he spoke to me on the telephone, in 2008! (Well, sorta.)

Hope you had a happy sixty-nine, Mr. Nash!

As for me, I'm just glad I got to do a tribute to someone who's not dead, for a change.

Thanks for your time.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Oddly Appropriate...

I am so ticked off right now... but not at anything or anyone that would make this a David'Z RantZ post.

No, this time I'm kind of angry with myself.

I thought that the birthday of my old -- "old" as in long-time -- friend and writing partner, Skip Simpson (who also occasionally contributes to his own blog, Life with Skip), was January 31st. I was wrong. It was January 30th.

Then again, I suppose it's fitting that I "skipped" his birthday, however inadvertently. Ha-freakin'-ha.

Umm... Sorry, Skip. Happy birthday.

[expletive deleted]!!!

At least I'm not reporting anyone's death this time around, thank God!*

(*Right, Roy?)

Thanks for your time.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

David Frye, 1934-2011, R.I.P.

Okay, so I was wrong...

After yesterday's post about Charlie Callas, I figured it would be at least a few days before someone I'd admired -- especially someone whom I was a fan of at about the same freakin' time in my adolescent life -- would die, but as my old friend Wayne used to say, "The best-laid plans of mice and men are often cheesy!"

Less than twenty-four hours of learning about Charlie's passing, I learned that impressionist David Frye had died a few days ago.

Like Charlie Callas, David Frye was familiar to me from countless variety shows during the late 1960s before his LPs started coming out. (I bought the first three, I Am the President, Radio Free Nixon, and Richard Nixon Superstar. It gives me a perverse pleasure knowing that his record label for the first two was Elektra, the same label that put out The Doors... but that's just me.) Frye did a lot of the contemporary standard celebrity impressions (Henry Fonda, James Stewart, Kirk Douglas, George C. Scott, etc.), and his William F. Buckley, Jr. was hilarious... but his real forte was imitating politicians.

The earliest political impression I clearly recall Frye doing was Robert F. Kennedy. (As I recently discovered, that was the one that got him started doing political take-offs!) Frye's RFK was predictably silly and delivered in a rapid-fire barrage of clichéd "Kennedyspeak": "Ahhhh... A lot of people say that I talk like Bugs Bunny and this is not true! Bugs Bunny talks like me! 'What's up, doc?' is my line!"

Frye, after having miraculously

"become" Tricky Dick Nixon!

Frye's LBJ and George Wallace -- to list only two notable examples -- were spot-on, but his crowning achievement, and the impression that was widely considered to be the best version by any impressionist, was that of Richard M. Nixon. In fact, when Nixon left office in disgrace in 1974, it apparently put a damper on Frye's meteoric career! Kinda sad, as the man could do so many other celebrities so well.

Along with such varied influences as -- believe it or not -- Pat Paulsen, Shirley MacLaine (long story there), and a 1971 Playboy interview with George M. McGovern, Frye opened my mind to whatever interest I developed in politics as a teen.

If you aren't familiar with the man and his work, you won't understand why his death saddens me so. If you are... I've probably written too much already. Anyway, here's a video Frye himself put together not long ago, apparently (judging from the impressions he does). Unfortunately, it ends rather abruptly.

Thanks for your time.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Charlie Callas, R.I.P.

Nothing particularly clever to say tonight, fellow babies. I'm just here to note the passing of comedian Charlie Callas, who just died at the age of 83... or 86. (At this writing -- although it'll probably have been changed 47 times by the time you read this -- Charlie's Wikipedia entry lists both ages!)

Mr. Callas brought me a lot of laughs during (primarily) the early 1970s, when I was a high school student who had virtually no bedtime on any night that wasn't a school night. Without much social life -- hey, I was only in my early teens -- I ended up watching a lot of late-night television programming. Much of that was comprised of old movies, The Dick Cavett Show, and of course, The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson.

Here's a clip of Charlie from the 1967 Jerry Lewis film, The Big Mouth, wherein Charlie did what he (arguably) did best: Acting like... well... acting like Charlie Callas!