As a singer, Joe Cocker was blessed with a magnificently raspy, soulful delivery that made him one of the most immediately recognizable vocalists in the history of rock music.
The second time the Beatles invaded the United States in 1964, a month-long expedition that began Aug. 19, Art Schreiber was one of just two American newsmen on tour. He rode with their chartered planes, stayed in their hotels and night after night witnessed concerts where music was completely beside the point. Now 86 and on a 50th anniversary tour of his own, Schreiber recalls three things you may not know:
It says a lot about guitarist Johnny Winter that blues great Muddy Waters sang his praises. The first time Waters heard him play live, he was blown away by Winter's blindingly fast thumb-picked electric slide work. "He plays eight notes to my one!" Waters reportedly exclaimed.
Boomers growing up in the mid- to late 1970s may have felt bored and alienated by the classic rock that their older brothers and sisters listened to. That's why so many of us were especially excited about a band called the Ramones, who were pretty much the opposite of the handsome stadium-rock gods who dominated the airwaves with their synthesizer bombast and 10-minute guitar solos.
Johnny Cash's newly released CD Out Among the Stars debuted at No. 1 on Billboard magazine's Top Country Albums chart and No. 3 on the Billboard 200 albums chart. That might seem like a pretty impressive performance, especially considering that the artist himself passed away back in 2003.
Remember Beatlemania? For that transcendent moment in boomer history, we owe thanks to concert promoter Sid Bernstein, who died on Aug. 21 at age 95 in New York City.
I suppose it goes without saying that your level of enjoyment of the new documentary Springsteen & I, which premiered Monday night in movie theaters and screens again in select cities on July 30, will be in direct correlation to your proximity to New Jersey and/or your ability to recite all the lyrics to "Rosalita." As I fall into that category of fist-pumping fans who have attended dozens of Bruce Springsteen concerts, I had a great time watching it.
One day in August 1965, UCLA film graduate Ray Manzarek was walking along Venice Beach in Los Angeles when he had a chance meeting with an old college acquaintance named Jim Morrison.
You may not know Reg Presley's name, or that of his rock band, the Troggs. But if you grew up in the mid-1960s and had an AM radio, you instantly would recognize the distinctive growl of his peculiarly half-spoken, half-singing vocal:
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