Looking Back on 2019
The beauty, for me, of being the editor of the Lighthouse Peddler is that each month I'm allowed to blather on about something. A few years ago I decided to start chronicling the passing of some great people, with a full understanding that greatness, like many things, is highly subjective. And be forewarned. There's a lot about music in this year's column. Here is my list of those we lost in 2019.
Art Neville died in July. I met the Neville Brothers in the 1980s when A&M released the “Yellow Moon” album. The legendary band were a joy to work with. Some 30 years ago I had the honor of getting on stage at Tipitina’s in New Orleans and introduce them to an audience of music fans. I'm happy our paths crossed but I must admit, with Art’s passing there’s a little less ‘Fiyo on the Bayou.’
João Gilberto died in July. One of the driving forces behind the creation of Bossa Nova, he helped change the rhythm of the world. And in 1964 his then wife, Astrud Gilberto became an icon with her recording of Antonio Carlos Jobim’s “The Girl From Ipanema”. You can almost feel the sand at Copacabana.
Driving a rental car in San Francisco was always fun. Really. One afternoon in the late 1970s I heard a record come on the radio and thought to myself, this is a near-perfect single. That was the moment I first heard “Two Tickets To Paradise” by Eddie Money. Since that day, whenever that song comes on the radio I’m always ready to crank up the volume and sing along. Eddie died in September. Hopefully he made it.
A radio legend died in December. “Grizzled, irascible, foulmouthed, an outrageous, confrontational growler with a buckram face, a battered cowboy hat and a gun on his hip, he spent decades on the air doing pranks and parodies that were often brutish, tasteless or obscene and sometimes racist, sexist or homophobic — all while surviving alcoholism, cocaine addiction, repeated firings and a nearly fatal fall from a horse.” That’s the New York Times take on the life of Don Imus. They're right. And I admit it. I listened to him for years when I worked in New York.
The Monkees. Peter Tork, Michael Nesmith, Davy Jones, and Mickey Dolenz were a pure Hollywood TV creation. Surrounded by great songwriters and a group of legendary musicians the Monkees became overnight teenage idols in the mid-1960s. Founding member of the band Peter Tork died this year. He was 77.
I first heard “Scatterlings” on the radio while driving in Los Angeles. An amazing song, and an amazing recording was the creation of Johnny Clegg. Beyond his musical talents he was a British-born singer, songwriter and guitarist who managed to fuse together Western and African influences, and found an international audience. Clegg died this year. He stood as an emblem of resistance to the apartheid authorities in his adopted land, South Africa where he was sometimes referred to as “the white Zulu”.
A few months ago I wrote of the death of Dick Dale, the King of the Surf Guitar. Listen to “Miserlou”. It was as if he decided in 1963 to rethink what the electric guitar should sound like. Likewise I remembered Dr. John, The Night Tripper. He died in September.
If you listened (or purchased) records by The Captain and Tennille, you may have heard that Daryl Dragon died in January. The son of composer/conductor Carmen Dragon, Daryl was a songwriter, a keyboardist with the Beach Boys, and a bona fide success with partner (and ex-wife) Toni Tennille. For five years in the late 1970s I had the pleasure of working with them. Their music wasn’t for everyone, but they sure knew how to make hit records.
The death of Scott Engel may not turn heads everywhere, but those in the music world knew him as Scott Walker. Along with John Maus and Gary Leeds, these three American-born musicians changed their professional surnames to Walker and found success performing brilliant arrangements of songs like “Make It Easy on Yourself,” “Love Her,” and “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore”. Their hits were their own version of blue-eyed soul with arrangements that echoed those of the Righteous Brothers. Scott Walker was always a bigger star in Britain than in the States, and lived there until his death this year.
In 1969 we were fortunate to meet three actors, free spirits all. The film “Easy Rider” brought Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson into our lives. Fonda, who died in August, managed to escape the shadow of his famous father. Peter Fonda on a motorcycle is an image for which he’ll always be remembered.
2019 was a tough year for long-time Green Bay Packer fans. Forrest Gregg died in April. Jim Taylor died in October. Zeke Bratkowski, a talented but perennial backup QB died in November. But with a slight to no one, the biggest loss this year was Bart Starr. One of the greatest quarterbacks in NFL history died in May. He was a dominating force in the 1960s. He and the Packwon three N.F.L. Championships (1961, ’62 and ’65) in the pre-Super Bowl era, and then the first two Super Bowls, in January of 1967 and ’68. The 1960s was the decade where Green Bay earned the nickname Title Town.
Rutger Hauer died in July. The Dutch-born actor turned in many fine performances but his greatest may have been as the humanoid/replicant Roy Batty in the film “Blade Runner”. One of my all time favorite films, Hauer was both scary and sympathetic. As the replicant Blatty neared the end of his ‘life’ he reflected on his imminent "death". With rain pouring down, Blatty tells us that whatever he was, whatever he did, “All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”
In 2003 Ambassador Joseph C. Wilson became an unlikely hero. He challenged the Bush/Cheney narrative about Saddam Hussein making nuclear weapons, which was the foundation of Bush’s decision to invade Iraq. It was a lie, but the truth didn’t matter. We went to war and America is still paying for it. Wilson died in September. Thanks for standing up for the truth Joe.
I.M. Pei died this year. A brilliant architect. I visited Paris numerous times beginning in 1975 and, in addition to the restaurants and the sights, I loved the museums. I’ll only add that with Pei’s glass pyramid as its new entrance, the Louvre—for better or worse—will never be the same.
We lost some names from the world of television. Actor David Hedison died in July. And humorist and creative force Marshall Efron died in September. Maybe you can see some of Efron’s stuff on YouTube. Try “Great American Dream Machine”. Efron was one of a kind. And 2019 also saw the passing of Sylvia Chase, Sander Vanocur, and Cokie Roberts. All were forces in national news and political news reporting.
2008 was one of those years. I mean one of those fire years. While answering phones at KZYX public radio during the fall Pledge Drive we took a call—and a pledge—from a seemingly unlikely caller. He lived in the area, was already a supporter of the station and wanted to help a little more. His name was René Auberjonois. Better known to some as Father Mulcahy in the original film M*A*S*H. To others he was Clayton Endicott II from the sitcom Benson. To me he will always be Odo from Start Trek: Deep Space Nine. He was 79.
There are, obviously, many more who could be added to this list. But I have just one more name to mention: Jim Swindel. Most of you, I assume, are thinking "Jim who?" Jim was one of those people born to succeed in the music business. He wasn't a pop musician, songwriter or producer although he touched all of it. I hired Jim to work for A&M in the late '70s. He was smart, and he was the consummate 'people person'. Walk into a room and Jim would meet one or more people who would come to appreciate his gifts. After A&M he worked for Island, Virgin, Qwest and Arista and never changed. Some people like to say of someone they liked or loved, "he was the best". In this case it was all true. I attended a memorial for Jim in San Francisco in October. The place was packed. It's rare when we can say 'that person was one of a kind'. Jim was smart, charming, and a friend. I miss him.
