Three Days, Forty Years, Six Discs
http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/109466-three-days-forty-years-six-discs/
[17 August 2009]
By Justin Cober-Lake
Compiling and releasing a new collection of material from the
original Woodstock Music and Art Fair (let's be formal) is an
undertaking that's a least a little ambitious. Not just because
there's more or less three days worth of music to sort through. That
would be the easy part. What's trickier is figuring out what to do
add to a 40-year-old conversation where nearly every angle's been
taking, much of the key tracks have been heard, and the whole
project's become its own sort of institution.
The new six-disc, eight-hour set Woodstock40 Years On: Back to
Yasgur's Farm still manages to be a compelling enterprise. There's no
reason to get into the nuts and bolts of the music itself. You know
what it sounds like. But the selection process, the tracklist, and
the general approach to the set do provide some insights into the festival.
The producers don't simply attempt to present the best eight hours of
music from the event. Instead, they try to provide more of an
overview, utilizing the original order of artist appearances and
sampling the best as well as the forgettable, mixing in stage
announcements to add to the feel. Importantly, they also rely on the
original tapes, eschewing some of the alternate takes used for Music
from the Original Soundtrack and More: Woodstock, even if that means
we get glitches like the problems recording the vocals on Arlo
Guthrie's "Coming into Los Angeles" (which is noticeably different
from what you may be used to. There are some potentially intriguing
questions about authenticity here, and the value of the original
recordings, but those are issues that have been taken up before, and
are best left to other discussions. What's necessary to note here is
that the set attempts, aptly, to re-create the feel of Woodstock and
to present it as accurately as possible.
Of course, to get the actual feel, you'd probably be best served by
filling a kiddie pool with dirt and water and inviting 12 of your
closest friends to stand in it with you. I don't recommend that. This
box does a nice job of intermingling just enough stage announcements
(usually relating to the quality of the acid) and covering just
enough of each artist (missing, I think, just the Band and the Keef
Hartley Band) to give you the gist of the proceedings. The stage
announcements, wisely, are each given their own track, so they're
easily skipped.
The producers provide plenty from the big-name acts, but there's
enough room to go around. John Sebastian gets as many tracks as the
Who. That's fitting, given Sebastian's particular fit at Woodstock
and the fact that the Who didn't play one of their finer sets from
the era here (see the recordings from Leeds and the Isle of Wight for
just the two most accessible examples). We happily get the infamous
Abbie Hoffman/Pete Townshend encounter, in which Hoffman babblingly
takes the stage mid-Tommy, and Townshend, depending on your source
either bumps or whacks Hoffman with his guitar to drive him away.
It's historically a minor incident, and not easily parsed based on
the audio, but it's still a legendary moment, the inclusion of which
aids the disc (not only in providing entertainment, but also in
capturing the essential Woodstockness of Woodstock).
The same disc with the Who cuts (disc four) is its own sort of
pinnacle within the box. Sly and the Family Stone absolutely killed,
providing the highlight of the three days. Janis Joplin and Jefferson
Airplane had less spectacular sets, but nonetheless give stellar
performances. The other star that keeps up with these groups is
Hendrix. His lineup, called "Gypsy, Sun, and Rainbows" in what feels
like an improvised moment, isn't one of his tightest (though it does
include Mitch Mitchell on drums and Billy Cox on bass), but the
performance was significant, with its intense guitar acrobatics and,
most memorably, Hendrix's unforgettable version of "The Star Spangled Banner".
There are plenty of quality acts turning in quality performances
hereand I'm going to have to brush Crosby, Stills, and Nash (and
Young for some of it), even though the original trio delivers one of
my favorite moments with "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes". When listening to
this much music from Woodstock, you can linger a little on some of
the lesser-known bands. Some of them are best saved for this moment,
a folkie or a psych act that's perfectly in its element. At the same
time, it's hard to figure exactly how some of these bands didn't make
it. For a number of acts, Woodstock was, if not a jumpstart to
success, at least an indicator of what was to come. Santana had yet
to release an album, but performed a legendary set that certainly
provided some good promotion for the forthcoming debut record.
Some of the other acts didn't fare as well in their careers, despite
sensational sets at the festival. Canned Heat provided one of the
finest performances at Woodstock, highlighted by "Going Up the
Country" and the jam called "Woodstock Boogie" (both included here).
The group seemed to have the perfect sound for the era. The
blues-rock side of it matched the era's Britain-funneling-the-US
styles; the folkier side appealed to the hippie contingent, and the
psychedelia touches made the sound work in any number of venues.
So why aren't Canned Heat a revered band today, instead of one noted
primarily for one great set? It's a tough question (and one that,
worded a little differently, could probably apply to hundreds of
bands). One possibility is that the group simply wasn't as good as
they seemed (and that's not to their discredit). Their recorded music
by and large doesn't match the Woodstock stuff, during which they
were probably peaking (even with a recent lineup change) and riding
on some adrenalin. The band's music also could not be more perfect
for that particular venue (for the reasons described above). Heard in
context, it's a phenomenal show, but being perfect in one context
doesn't make a type of music perfect. Moreover, the group went
through all kinds of internal chaos and turnover starting not long
after Woodstock; the elements that gelled extremely well in August
1969 were no longer in place. It wasn't just that Canned Heat
couldn't match their show. Canned Heat literally wasn't Canned Heat any more.
Mountain also made a strong showing at the festival (with only their
fourth ever live performance), but remain thought of primarily as
little more than a one-hit wonder, for "Mississippi Queen", which
they didn't even perform here. This group's debut Climbing! still
holds up as a strong listen, but the band suffered from two
complicating factors. First, they never nailed a big follow-up
single. "Nantucket Sleighride" is a fine song, but not a great one.
Second, the band was excluded from both the original Woodstock film
and the triple-album soundtrack. Mountain's debut album came out the
same year as the soundtrack (to far less fanfare, I'm sure), and they
lacked the boost that the other artists would have received. Mountain
hasn't earned a spot as a true rock classic, but it would be
interesting to consider their potential career path with just one
more single and a stronger commercial push out of Woodstock itself.
The band that really intrigued me on this new set was Sweetwater. The
group seemed to have the right elements in place for critical and
commercial success, perhaps the latter kind in particular). The
simplistic comparison is to Jefferson Airplane, primarily because
they're both trippy rock bands fronted by women (Nancy Nevins in
Sweetwater, and Grace Slick, of course, in Jefferson Airplane). While
it's an easy match that I'd like to avoid because it just feels lazy,
it's probably the most accurate comparison you could find.
Sweetwater's self-titled 1968 debut wasn't as strong as what the
Airplane had been doing, but that's no knock against it. The band was
strong enough, and capable of creating just the right atmosphere as
well as naturally matching the current of its time without feeling.
Unfortunately, we get only two tracks from their Woodstock
performance on this box. One, "Two Worlds", appeared on the debut.
"Look Out"with some rock, some groove, and some era-appropriate
flutewould appear on their sophomore album Just for You in 1970.
It's a fine song, but it's what happened between Woodstock and the
release of Just for You that explains Sweetwater's demise. In late
1969, Nevins was in a car wreck involving a drunk driver and suffered
severe injuries, including one to a vocal chord. The band put out two
more albums while she recovered (and contributed both songs and
vocals). However, the band's career was derailed. Like Mountain,
Sweetwater didn't appear in the original documentary or soundtrack.
There are suggestions that this fact is somehow connected to Nevins's
injuries, but regardless of the reason, it didn't help.
Of course, most of the acts that performed at Woodstock didn't become
huge stars, but most of them also didn't hold their own with the
festival's big stars. Dwelling on a few of these near-misses might be
like a bit of a downer, but that's not really the point. Aside from
exploring some trivia and indulging my own fascinations, looking at
these sorts of acts (and 40 Years On has enough variety for plenty of
such explorations) helps explain why Woodstock was such a novel event
from a musical perspective. Ignoring the size of the crowd and all
the cultural associations and going directly to the music, it's
pretty amazing that this many acts (and not all of them) played this
well for three days. For some of these groups, it was their finest
hour, and that sort of elevationand not the presence of future Rock
'n' Roll Hall of Famersis what made the music itself such a singular event.
--------
CD brings eight hours of Woodstock music
http://www.mercurynews.com/music/ci_13090918?nclick_check=1
By Randy Lewis
Los Angeles Times
Posted: 08/14/2009
Even considering just the live performances during those celebrated
"three days of peace and music" 40 years ago, Woodstock remains a
magnificent cultural Rorschach test.
Baby boomers tout it as the pinnacle of unfettered experimentation
that characterized the 1960s.
Many members of the punk and post-punk generations still sneer at
what can come across as the bombastic self-indulgence of the classic-rock era.
Post-grunge music fans are demonstrating nouveau nostalgia for the
jam-band vibe that flowered on that hot August weekend in upstate New York.
A new six-CD set, the most comprehensive single musical document of
Woodstock yet, expands significantly on what previously had been
released officially.
There are nearly eight hours of music on "Woodstock: 40 Years On:
Back to Yasgur's Farm," more than half of the 77 tracks previously
unreleased, offering the most informative look yet at the richly
varied music created at the festival.
Even after everything that's been said, written, photographed, filmed
and recorded on the event, this set shows that a fresh take is still possible.
Perhaps the most valuable aspect is the sequencing: For the first
time, performances run chronologically, creating a far stronger sense
of the actual event.
You feel the momentum building from period-representative but largely
forgotten acts such as Sweetwater, Bert Sommer and Quill in the early
going toward the truly historic appearances by Janis Joplin; the Who;
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young; and Jimi Hendrix.
The festival's impressive stylistic variation also comes into full
relief, with folk, blues-rooted rock, nascent world music,
psychedelia, R&B and soul, and full-throttle rock. The CD booklet
includes each day's bands and their complete set lists.
Among the highlights of the previously unreleased tracks are two
songs by underappreciated singer-songwriter Tim Hardin, whose own
recordings barely dented the charts in the late '60s and early '70s
before he overdosed in 1980 at age 39.
Here he sings the wistful "Hang on to a Dream," a poignant song about
a romantic breakup that seems to anticipate the larger bursting of
the utopian bubble that Woodstock once represented.
"Simple Song of Freedom" (written by Bobby Darin) was another ideal
choice, Dylan-esque in its common-sense plea for social and political
understanding amid the upheaval of the day.
Creedence Clearwater Revival was amid what arguably was its creative
peak year the quartet led by John Fogerty put out three standout
albums in 1969. Yet Fogerty long resisted issuing the Woodstock
recordings because he felt the band hadn't been at its best.
Listening to the three Creedence cuts here makes you wish others'
standards were as high as Fogerty's. It's also a welcome sonic
palette cleanser of potently focused pop-rock coming on the heels of
the Grateful Dead's typically expansive 19-minute run-through of "Dark Star."
The pro and con of late-'60s music crystallized at Woodstock.
Musical experimentation was in full swing, and bands were open to
anything that would let them break the shackles of musical
conventions they had grown up with.
Time limitations imposed by the once-dominant 45-rpm single and
strictures governing what was appropriate for AM radio airplay could
be completely tossed aside in live performance.
Hence Canned Heat's 28-minute "Woodstock Boogie," which had surfaced
before only in abbreviated form. Somewhere near the 20-minute mark it
starts to feel like those "three days of peace and music" must have
run closer to three weeks.
Is it part of musical history? Absolutely.
Is it necessary? Not considering the Woodstock recordings that still
haven't come to light.
The Who, for instance. The quartet had released its watershed rock
opera "Tommy" shortly before Woodstock and played most of it live.
Even with this filled-out box set, we still get only "Amazing
Journey," "Pinball Wizard" and a full-length performance of the
previously edited "We're Not Gonna Take It."
The then-new, multipart harmonies of Crosby, Stills and Nash (with
Neil Young on a couple of numbers) still sounded shaky in spots, but
it's still a shame we don't hear how Young and his new pals handled
Buffalo Springfield's "Mr. Soul" that day.
Hendrix's mind-boggling performance ran something like 90 minutes,
and we still get just a fraction of it here.
Presumably the truly devoted already have the full "Jimi Hendrix:
Live at Woodstock" CD released a decade ago.
Likewise, Joplin's full Woodstock set has surfaced in bootleg form,
but there's reason to lament that we don't hear more of it here,
given her searing performances of "Work Me, Lord" and "Ball and
Chain," both of which were on a 1994 Woodstock box set.
The exceedingly polite and nonjudgmental advisories by MCs Chip Monck
and John Morris, on topics such as bad acid and the perils of
climbing speaker towers amid a thunderstorm, encapsulate the era's
anything-goes attitude toward sex, drugs and especially rock 'n' roll.
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