Showing posts with label Scott Coryell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scott Coryell. Show all posts

Friday, August 8, 2008

Boston: August, 1976

I'm not sure exactly how to write a blog. I have this compulsion to finish a narrative once I've started it, so I'll go through a few more posts about my bi-centennial road trip in 1976, but my primary thoughts have been elsewhere lately, which is why my posting has slowed down. I'll get around to blogging about this summer's road trip up to Santa Cruz and Napa eventually, but in a travel blog, am I supposed to reflect on my day to day life? It kind of feels like I should, especially when I am grateful that my youngest daughter and I survived being spun through the air by a GMC Yukon XL that ran a stop sign. To make a long story short, the air bags deployed, and we came out sore but still walking, but my Ford Escape was totalled. Fortunately, everyone including the witnesses, police and insurance company agree that the other driver was totally at fault, so my insurance rates won't be going up.


Anyway, back to 32 years ago, I had been in and out of a lot of cities by the time I arrived in Boston. I have a few non-descript photos of tall buildings that I think are from Boston, but I can't really say for sure. I do know that sometimes I would arrive in towns late at night, so rather than finding cheap lodging, I would stay up all night in a Dunkin Donuts or diner. One night in particular I remember playing my guitar and singing Bill Withers's "Ain't No Sunshine" in a diner to an audience of hookers and insomniacs. One of the hookers said, "Baby, you got soul." By that point in my travels, I had some kind of virus that caused my voice to be a little hoarse, which I think made me sound better.

I got a cheap hotel room and laid down to take a nap at about six in the evening upon arriving in Boston. The next thing I knew, the TV station was signing off for the evening, so I slept through until eight in the morning. I definitely remember that any time I did get a room on this trip, I really enjoyed taking a shower and catching up on my sleep. The next day, I walked the Freedom Trail, which is something I highly recommend for anyone visiting Boston. It's wonderful to put you in touch with our country's history. The Boston Tea Party and historic battle cry of "No taxation without representation" seem to differ in tone from the big government tax and spend sentiments of many modern Bostonians, but the people were all friendly and helpful along the trail. I enjoyed a tankard of ale at a place frequented by our founding fathers near the conclusion of this walk through history.


In my journeys, I saw a flyer for Paul's Mall, which years later I learned was the hub of the jazz scene for many years in Boston. What drew my attention was the second billed act, Ian Matthews. While in high school, I found an interesting looking album by a group called Matthews Southern Comfort in the used bin at Platterpuss Records. It contained a lot of rather odd British folk music that included remarkable harmonies on a traditional song called "Blood Red Roses" and something of a bluegrass number called "Obray Ramsey Go Home." I don't know how many people ever bought that album, but even Black Sabbath fan Scott Coryell gave it two thumbs up. Matthews eventually went out on his own, and he had a couple of small hits in re-makes of "Dirty Work" and "Woodstock," but I doubt many people today remember him clearly.


Who was on top of the bill? Barry and the Remains, a local band that was as big as the Beatles in Boston, I think, or at least that's the way they were treated that night. It was a terrific show. Barry and the Remains had a brush with fame in the 60s but never hit big nationally. One of their songs was titled "Don't Look Back," which of course was the title for the super-group Boston's second album.



By the way, Boston (the band) released their smash debut album in 1976, the year I was there. I love the story of that band, recording the album in founder Tom Scholz's garage. Scholz came to Boston to attend MIT, where he became an engineer who worked for instant photo giant Polaroid. With his engineering salary, he built the recording studio in his basement where he pursued his dream of being a rock star. Scholz and his bandmates felt the record company forced them to release their follow-up album before perfected and screwed them out of their fair share of royalties, but their contract locked them in. Rather than releasing another album to further enrich the execs at that company, Boston held back until the contract ran out to release their third album, "Third Stage," in 1986. Who would have thought the rock and roll band would prove to be less risky than working for Polaroid?



I also attended the Park Street Church on Sunday morning, and I went to an art gallery, but I only know this because I wrote it on that postcard that I sent to my mom.