Markin comment:
The following is in the nature of a stream of consciousness reflection on recent political struggles and the slight breeze that I am feeling starting to push back against defeats of some forty plus years since we last had a shot at “seeking a newer world” and that old- time breeze that pushed me first into the political fray.
As fate would have it sometimes a certain conjecture just falls into place for no particular reason other than happenstance, or so it would appear. As noted below I have been on a tear of late trying to get, young and old, but mainly my baby-boomer contemporaries, to get back into the political fray, and if there already to ratchet up their activity, and their political drifts leftward away from the all too familiar liberal complacencies. But that happenstance business is just a front because while one strand of the memory jog occurred just recently with the struggle over the events in Wisconsin and those whispered conversations about olden day struggles another strand had been spent on a now extensive review of much of the music from our youth, the youth that came of musically age just at that moment when we began to call rock ‘n’ roll music our own.
And that jail breakout music got reflected, at some level, in the way we looked at the world we felt that although the world was not of our making, and not what we wanted it to be, it was up for grabs to go in our direction, at least for a cultural moment.
The core of that review of the music of our generation, strangely enough given its imprimatur, is a rather extensive compilation of CDs put out by Time-Life Music (you see what I mean) as its Rock ‘n’ Roll Era series. While the compilations give a wide selection of the most recognizable music for a number of years from about the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s (basically pre-British invasion time) the real draw for this reviewer was the cover art that accompanied each CD. Those covers, more than the bulk of the music (after all there was a musical counter-revolution of sorts in the late 1950s in reaction to the Elvis, Jerry Lee way to sexy implications of their music) , evoked in me (and I am sure they would in you as well if you are a baby-boomer), a flood of memories. Such subjects as “hot” 1950s cars, drive-in movies, drive-in restaurants complete with to-die-for cute car hops serving them off the arm, the high school dance scene. And so on. I have reposted one such effort below:
"This 1964 art cover piece with its drawing of a high school girl (school used as backdrop here to let you know, just in case you were clueless, that the rock scene was directed, point blank, at high school students, high school students with discretionary money to buy hot records, or drop coins in the local juke box), or rather her high heel sneakers (Chuck Taylor high tops, for sure, no question, although there is no trademark present no way that they can be some knock-offs in 1964, no way, I say). The important thing, in any case, is the sneakers, and that slightly shorter than school regulation dress, a dress that presages the mini-skirt craze that was then just on its way from Europe. Naturally said dress and sneakers, sneakers, high- heeled or not, against the mandatory white tennis sneakers on gym days and low-heel pumps on other days, is the herald of some new age. And, as if to confirm that new breeze, in the background scouring out her high school classroom window, a sullen, prudish schoolmarm. She, the advance guard, obviously, of that parentally-driven reaction to all that the later 1960s stood for to us baby-boomers, as the generations fought out their epic battles about the nature of the world, our world or theirs.
But see that is so much “wave of future” just then because sullen schoolmarm or not what Ms. Hi-Heel sneakers (and dress, ya, don’t forget that knee-showing dress) is preening for is those guys who are standing (barely) in front of said school and showing their approval, their approval in the endless boy and girl meet game. And these guys are not just of one kind, they are cool faux beat daddy guys, tee-shirted corner boy guys, and well, just average 1964- style average guys. Now the reality of Ms. Hi-Heel sneakers (and a wiglet on her head) proved to be a minute thing and was practically forgotten in the musical breeze that was starting to come in from Europe (British invasion led by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones) but it was that harbinger of change that the old schoolmarm dreaded and we, teenagers, especially we teenagers of the Class of 1964, were puzzled by. All we knew for sure, at least some of us knew , was that our class, at least for a moment, was going to chase a few windmills, and gladly.
That is the front story, the story of the new breeze coming, but the back story is that the kind of songs that are on this CD with that British invasion coming full blast were going to be passé very soon. Moreover, among my crowd, my hang-out crowd, my hang-out guy and girl crowd of guys who looked very much like those guys pictured on the artwork here, if not my school crowd (slightly different) the folk scene, the Harvard Square at weekend night, New York City Village every once in a while folk scene, the Dylan, Baez, Van Ronk, Paxton, Ochs, etc. scene was still in bloom and competitive (although that scene, that folk scene minute, ironically, would soon also be passé).
Thus 1964 was a watershed year for a lot of the genres, really sub-genres, featured here. Like the harmony-rich girl groups (The Supremes, Mary Wells, The Shangri-Las, Martha and the Vandellas, Betty Everett) and the surfer boy, hot-rod guys of blessed neighborhood memory (Ronnie and the Daytonas, The Rivieras, and The Beach Boys, a little). But it was also a watershed year for the guys pictured in the artwork (and out in the neighborhoods). Some would soon be fighting in Vietnam, some moving to a commune to get away from it all, and others would be raising holy hell about that war, the need for social justice and the way things were being run in this country. And Ms. Hi-Heel sneakers? Maybe, just maybe, she drifted into that San Francisco for the Summer of Love night, going barefoot into that good night. I like to think so anyway.
Watershed year or not, there are some serious non-invasion stick-outs here. Under The Boardwalk (great harmony), The Drifters; Last Kiss, Frank Wilson and The Cavaliers; Dancing In The Streets (lordy, lordy, yes), Martha and the Vandellas; Leader Of The Pack (what a great novelty song and one that could be the subject of a real story in my growing up neighborhood), The Shangri-Las; Hi-Heel Sneakers, Tommy Tucker (thanks for the lead-in, Tommy), and, the boss song of the teen dance club night, no question, no challenge, no competition, Louie, Louie by the Kingsmen
Note: Those familiar with leftist, Marxist-oriented politics are familiar with the slogan- fight for a workers government. If you will observe in the headline to this entry I have posited a workers and baby-boomers government. No, not to be silly or flip, although I know how to do both, but to make a point. A point that always bears a certain repetition when dealing with variants of this workers’ government slogan. In places like Egypt today, or better, in the old Czarist days, in Russia, the slogan would have been expanded to something like a workers and peasants government. And that gets to the real point. Although we Marxists argue, and argue strenuously, that when the deal goes down there are only two decisive classes in the modern era- the capitalists who own the means of production and the workers who produce the profits and emphatically do not own the means of production. But that begs the point, a little. In the age of capitalism other classes, and parts of classes, have been spun off. Thus, the question, even in the United States, of allies for the working class requires a broadly slogan (at times) than just the generic workers government slogan that graces these pages on most related entries. Today’s entry reflects the very real possibility that our best allies might be those who are coming of retirement age, the post- World War II baby-boomer generation.
Now back in the 1930s when there were many more small and family farmers than there are today the proposition of a workers and farmers government was posed as cutting-edge slogan by our political forbears. And, of course, somebody, some smart- aleck young Marxist who was trying to be silly or flip (probably a college student from New York City where young Marxists were thick as fleas) noted that there were more dentists in the United States than farmers at that time. Now, from painful personal (and expensive) experience, I actually could get behind the idea of a workers and dentists government. But that specific variant is just adding to the main point above, the algebraic nature of a workers and XYZ government as a fighting slogan. So for now my workers and baby-boomers government has a certain flare, especially until the grey beards are in the minority of most of the rallies that I have seen lately. Please though don’t expect me to take a job in the Commissariat of Elder Affairs when we win. No way.
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