Do Wah Diddy Diddy

Tonight I watched another one of those PBS music specials. This one was called, "The British Beat: Best of the British Invasion". At first, these things are a little uncomfortable to watch. There they are, the heroes of my adolescence, looking like the guys that were in my dad's Dixieland band back in the late 70s and early 80s. I swear Gerry Marsden (Gerry & the Pacemakers) was the same guy that played trumpet in dad's Aristocrats of Dixie. Gerry probably wears a pacemaker these days... which might be why he sounded more like a lounge act than a school mate of the Beatles. All it took though was Procol Harum's performance of "Whiter Shade of Pale" and the discomfort was gone. Flawless, ethereal. One of those songs that makes you close your eyes and let it wash over you...

Aside: Did you know that while we were all listening to the Sgt. Pepper album, thinking it was the greatest thing ever produced, John Lennon felt the same way about the "Procol Harum" album? He spent hours in his psychedelic Rolls listening to it through headphones while his driver drove him around. Once they returned home Lennon refused to get out of the car until he heard it a few more times.

I read a lot of younger bloggers who are quite vociferous about how older rockers should get off the stage and hang up their instruments, simply due to their age and their midlife bodies. But the music of the Sixties—the good music that is—was never about selling the artist as a sexpot like today's music is. It was about the music and as far as I'm concerned, the worst performance by a rocker of my generation is better than most of what's out there today. But I'm an old fart. What do I know?

Eric Burdon's performance of "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" was all right; I didn't like his "House of the Rising Sun", but I have issues with Burdon since I appeared on a talk show with him once and he was a jerk.

I never was a fan of the Zombies and tonight I wondered why. Colin Blunstone's voice was impeccable. Their performance of "She's Not There" revealed to me that it's a better song than I thought it was back in the day.

And who can begrudge cute. petite. wrinkleless. Lulu? She looks exactly the same. No, she looks better. How the hell did she manage that? She's three years older than me! There's no way that girl I saw tonight is 59. It had to be a double. Vocally, she was in top form. 59. Sheesh. I used to be tiny like her about 15 years ago. I hate Lulu.

There were other bands on this show that I didn't care for simply because I didn't like them in the 60s, but they still sounded good. Paul Jones (Manfred Mann) is still as boyish as ever. The fact that he could never really sing made it easier to enjoy the "Do Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Do" like everyone else. I remember when a friend of mine (quite a groupie back then) had been invited by Jones to come to a party. She asked me to go with her and I can't remember why I didn't.

Sitting here writing this, it just came to me. Are these Sixties revival shows the Lawrence Welk shows of my generation? I mean, I'd go to one of them if I knew where they're staged. My parents and grandparents used to drive down to Hollywood to the Palladium to see the Welk show, and to dance. How are these PBS shows any different?

You know what? I don't give a crap. If I want to stand in a theater dancing to the music of my youth with people who look older than I feel, I'm going to. I know the truth. I know that I'm really only 16. Just like them.