The Women of “Celebration Rock”

Maybe my memory is fuzzy, but I think that as I entered the world of Top 40 radio back in the late 1960’s, there was a rule, probably written in some program director’s SOP (standard operating procedure) that the rotation of hit songs would not include two female singers back-to-back. That is, a Joni Mitchell hit wouldn’t be played immediately before or after a song by Petula Clark, Carole King, or Mama Cass, unless Cass was singing with the Mamas and the Papas, in which case that would be considered a “group,” and groups could follow groups, and male singers could follow male singers (nothing wrong with Elvis following Tommy Roe or Otis Redding). But at least one program director I knew didn’t allow back-to-back female singers on his air. (Does anyone else remember this? Or, am I making it up?)

Anyway, I had the freedom to break all kinds of rules since my program “Celebration Rock” was considered both a public service show and a “special” where the station’s normal sound could be suspended for the hour. (I was smart enough to know that on a Top 40 station bluegrass, jazz, and the New York Philharmonic would be out of sync with what the listeners expected to hear. But I did gain enough credibility to bend the format here and there, with one show called “Jazz Goes to Church” and another featuring the “high country” sound of my friends Meisberg and Walters.)

Finally, we come to the “therefore.”  Therefore (see?), I played female artists back-to-back whenever it fit my thematic content. I also devoted whole programs to women like Judy Collins, Phoebe Snow, Carole King, Grace Slick, Suzanne Vega, and Melissa Manchester. Nearly every time Carole King released a new album, I bought it, listened intently, wrote down ideas, and eventually wrote a script of meditations to tie the songs together. Even when her music didn’t reach the heights of the pop charts, I found her poetry, her spirit, and her social conscience inspiring. “Rolling Stone” would pan an album, and I’d ignore the reviewer and play almost every song on CR. I see Carole King on TV nowadays, performing with her daughter, and I am still a solid fan. From “Tapestry” to “Simple Things,” to “City Streets” and way beyond, I have admired her elan and her energy. Two songs come to mind that I played on more shows than I can count: “One” and “I Think I Can Hear You.” The former is a celebration of all that one person can do and be, but also the oneness of all those ones who form a community. To wit: 

It just amazes me that I can be
Part of the energy it takes to serve each other
And I wonder what am I gonna do
What can one do
Except be one
Each of us is one–all of us are one
We are one
 

Imagine, a song that sings of using our energy to serve each other. Sounds like Jesus.

“I Think I Can Hear You” is a psalm-like prayer (or a prayer-like psalm?) that sounds like an agnostic’s faith-filled prayer. The closing words are: 

Even when I thought I didn’t believe
You believed in me
And everyone is a part of you
And anyone can know you
All they’ve got to do is be
I’m listening, and I think I can hear you.

I once played several cuts from the “Bread and Roses” album of Judy Collins, and used the title cut as the theme for a worship service I led at the chapel of the Presbyterian School of Christian Education in Richmond. I made sure there was the yeasty aroma of fresh bread to permeate the worship space, and roses to add some visual beauty. An on-line search of the lyrics will reveal a song of revolution and liberation.

I was surprised to find a Grace Slick program in my tape collection a couple of years ago. I had forgotten about that show, but script and music came together well. The Suzanne Vega “Solitude Standing” program featured a meditation on her song about child abuse: “Luka.” Unfortunately, I had misunderstood the lyric and hadn’t yet heard that the song was about a child named Luka, and my meditation was written from the point of view of someone who ran into a bruised woman named Luka at the mailboxes in the lobby of an apartment house. While my take on the song was not on target, my meditation on physical abuse still turned out to be helpful to listeners. The fact that such a song could be a hit amidst so many silly love songs and inane lyrics offered hope that musicians could still communicate from the heart with a prophetic voice.

One of my favorite CR shows featured Melissa Manchester. The program strayed from the purely “rock” vein, but she had several hits that led to album cuts well worth featuring. For every “Don’t Cry Out Loud” there were ten other songs that inspired some reflection. “Through the Eyes of Grace” for example told the story of Grace and John at the breakfast table. I picture John’s face buried in the sports section of the paper, while Grace is pleading silently, “Look across the table, Johnny…look across the table to me.” Grace still had the heart of a young woman, even after enough years of marriage that their kids had grown up and away. In the early 1980’s I was the keynote speaker for the three Montreat Youth Conferences sponsored by the Presbyterian Church, and my plenary presentation one morning featured Dee Koza interpreting the lyric of “Through the Eyes of Grace” through dance. We placed a guy at a big table, newspaper in hand, while Dee used her ballet-like movements to show Grace’s yearning for love and life in the midst of a waning marriage. Dee was as magnificent as the song was powerful.

Over the years I paid close attention to the voices and stories of women of song. Those woman featured on “Celebration Rock” were far more than mere show biz personalities followed by paparazzi. They used their God-given talents to move us, enlighten us, inspire us, and change us.

A major regret, though, was that through all those years, I never got to interview Carole King or Melissa Manchester. I did get to see Ms. Manchester on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” at the NBC studios in Burbank. I was in the audience that night and I swear she looked directly at me as she sang “Don’t Cry Out Loud.” Of course, every other guy there could say the same thing.

I mentioned psalms and prayers in regard to rock music. That needs some further reflection, so that’s the next topic.

Celebration [Weddings] Rock

Over the 22-year run of “Celebration Rock” I don’t think I ever did a wedding program. I did a few shows on sexuality (see the blog on “the first 200 programs”) and I must have done something on “marriage” at some point though the tape and script are nowhere to be found. But with all the weddings I performed for radio personalities, one would think I would have focused on wedding celebrations somewhere along the way. Maybe it was the lack of hit songs about marriage and weddings that held me back. The first music that comes to mind is the Fifth Dimension’s “Wedding Bell Blues” and a song from the early 70’s by the one-hit-wonder group Gladstone, “A Piece of Paper.” Neither song quite fits the pure joy of wedding festivities, nor the warmly solemn dignity of vows spoken before God and among family and friends.

Besides “Celebration Rock,” I produced other radio programs for six area stations and got to know deejays, announcers, sales people, and other staff. Many knew that I am an ordained Presbyterian minister; others knew me only as the host of Presbyterian-sponsored radio shows, and would ask, “Are you a real minister?” (As in, “I’m not a real doctor, but I play one on television…”) When I said yes, I knew what was coming next: I’m getting married soon; would you be available to do the service?”

If the date and lead-time were OK, I would agree to meet with the couple and move through several pre-marital counseling sessions with them. I was not a “Marryin’ Sam,” that is, a preacher who showed up at the appointed time to say the words and pronounce the couple wed. Nor was I willing to do a purely social ceremony; if that’s what folks had in mind, I suggested a Justice of the Peace. If I were to officiate as a minister, I would insist that the wedding be part of a ceremony of worship, offering gratitude to God for the gift of love that binds us together, saying vows that are sacred and prayerful, and asking God’s blessing on the couple through their lifetime together. Not that every couple had to be married in a church, or had to be Presbyterian. We just needed to work on a common vocabulary of pledging love over a lifetime before God.

A few stories:

I’m going to be very careful here to not identify the folks whose weddings I will write about, to preserve their privacy, especially if things didn’t work out as we had hoped. Most couples who came to me via radio connections weren’t at all active in religious institutions; otherwise, one would assume their own clergy person would be officiating on their special day. And many of those couples were of mixed faith backgrounds. It was fascinating for me as we crafted the service for this Jewish jazz deejay and her Unitarian fiance, or for this Roman Catholic country rock drummer and his Jewish radio program director fiancee. It wasn’t a piece of cake (wedding cake, that is), but it was worth the effort since these couples had far more invested in the service than those who simply bought into the wedding rituals prescribed by their churches.

One wedding that was particularly festive was that between Cosmic Jon and Cosmic Kathy. He was a popular Richmond deejay, and I think she was also on the station staff. If I remember correctly, the wedding was outdoors and the couple wore matching black T-shirts with their cosmic names in sparkles. I have a photo taken that day and two things stand out: the smiling faces of Jon and Kathy, and my tie, the ugliest thing I could have chosen for such a happy day.

Then there was the P.D. and the drummer. They flew me to Chicago and put me up at the famous Drake Hotel where the wedding was set for a ballroom. We combined Christian and Jewish wedding traditions, and both families were pleased that this Presbyterian honored their rituals. Still, I never had to compromise my own Reformed tradition to make this a sincere and lovely occasion of worship. Same vows, same God.

Then there was the time I got a little drunk doing pre-marital counseling. The bride-to-be was a radio news reporter and the groom was a well-known air personality at the same station. They invited me to their home late one afternoon for the first of our pre-marital sessions, the one where basically they described their growth in love as a couple and I described what shape the ceremony might take. They offered me wine. Now, I’m not used to much more than a Communion sip of wine at a time, but they were so kind, and the glasses seemed clean, so I had a glass. And then another. On an empty stomach, that’s all it took to make my world go ’round. I didn’t notice anything funny  until we said goodbye on their front porch and I walked to my car. My head was spinning, and I sat there thinking, “Gee, I’m a little drunk here.” Now, what?

Do I drive away, knowing I’m not fit to be behind the wheel? Or, do I just sit here awhile and hope they don’t see my car and get concerned and check on me? I decided to drive a few houses down the block and then sit there until I was less light-headed. When we set up the next appointment, I confessed what had happened and said maybe I’d better have a Coke next time. They smiled and said we’d have something to eat with the wine, and all would be well. [After my radio days, I once lived along a “wine trail,” and learned to enjoy a glass now and then, but only with food! And I’ve not been “drunk” since!]

These weddings– on the banks of the James River, or under an ancient oak on a Virginia farm, or in an old white clapboard church with worshippers hand-in-hand singing “Blessed Be the Tie that Binds” — were an extension of what we call “radio ministry.” That ministry was not limited to writing, hosting, editing, and scrawling shipping labels for Christian radio shows; it meant a ministry to radio as well, or more precisely, to the people who staffed the stations. Thanks to “Celebration Rock,” I became a chaplain to those radio folk, taking walks outside with them during their breaks, having intimate conversations in the middle of the night, talking about tough questions of faith, and now and then having the joyful priviledge of saying, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Oh, one more thing, in case John and Diane are reading this. Early in my ministry when I was too rigid regarding lead time and the need for pre-marital counseling, I told John I couldn’t officiate at his wedding. So someone else did the wedding, and they’ve been married well over 30 years I guess, without the benefit of my wise counsel. Still, I did have the honor of baptizing their first child at the church where John had grown up. I guess John forgave me, because he later engineered a live call-in show for me, and always made me sound better than I should have!

Next time, the women of “Celebration Rock.”

The Good, They Die Young

It’s awkward to write with such limited knowledge of someone like Harry Chapin. There are many people who know so much more about him, about his music, his personhood, his family, and his beliefs. I’m just one of his fans who appreciated his music, his imaginative stories, and his zeal for ending world hunger. At the same time, I’m a fan who not only listened to his music but helped promote it on radio. When songs like “Taxi” and “Cat’s in the Cradle” were on the charts, Chapin’s success was well-documented. But I had the freedom to play far more of the Chapin catalog than the purely Top 40 stations, and every time a new album came out, I’d find gems to share and interpret, including the final work, “The Cotton Patch Gospel.”

(An aside, as if most of what I write isn’t some kind of aside…) While attending a meeting of the Communications Commission of the National Council of Churches in New York City, I got to see Tom Key’s performance and the “original off-Broadway cast” of “The Cotton Patch Gospel” (including the now well-known Jim Lauderdale) at the Lamb’s Theater. I also watched Bill Huie tape an NBC/NCC television interview with Key, Tom Chapin, and others associated with Cotton Patch that night. That experience redeemed all those long Communications Commission meetings.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like for Chapin to write the words and music for that unabashedly Christian show, as one who had told me years before that he didn’t believe in God. I know that actors play roles that are contrary to their own personality and beliefs; that’s why they are called actors! And I know that poets, authors, lyricists, and other wordsmiths write imaginative fiction. Those who keep journals, write blogs, and record their lives in diaries are not immune from engaging in creative writing that bends the truth ever so slightly. (In the blues, a bent note is often the truest note there is.) But as I listened to Harry Chapin’s music as recorded by Tom Key and the bluegrass musicians in the cast, I think I heard what I wanted to hear: a reconciling of doubt and the search for belief…at least an understanding that faith isn’t to be equated with “Church” as institution, and that God might well be in the world’s pain as in heaven’s glory.

After Chapin’s death, somehow I got the name and phone number of one of his close friends, and a co-founder of World Hunger Year, Bill Ayers, a former Catholic priest. I had wanted to do a tribute show after Harry Chapin died, playing back my interview with him, as well as some others that colleagues had shared with me, and playing my favorite Chapin songs for the hour-long “Celebration Rock” program. So, I called Ayers to do a phone interview with him. I caught up with him as he was doing his own radio program in New York. And we talked for almost an hour, I think.

As I told Bill Ayers about my interview with Chapin years before, the conversation turned to the singer’s wrestling with the whole idea of God. Ayers said with a chuckle that he and Harry had had many conversations about belief, faith, church, God. And Bill Ayers said he once asked his friend what kind of God he would believe in, if he were to believe. Paraphrasing now, Chapin had said something like he wasn’t interested in the God so many Christians portrayed as the heavy-handed Judge who seemed out to get people, who was into punishment and retribution. Chapin confided in Ayers that his God would be one who was compassionate, comforting, and who had loving arms wide open to embrace all people. And Bill Ayers said, “Harry, the God you want to believe in is the God I do believe in, the One I worship and live for.” Or, something like that. Ayers said that he and Chapin went round and round about God, and that maybe the Cotton Patch Gospel music was a sort of affirmation of something possible if not totally embraced by Harry Chapin. In a song that was on one of his last albums and which also was sung by the Cotton Patch cast, Chapin sang:

Disciple children walk the streets
Selling books and flowers
Can they be last ones
With a semblance of a dream
If we say that no one’s out there
And we say we’re goin’ nowhere
And we avoid the question
Is this all that it means?

Oh if a man tried
To take his time on earth
And prove before he died
What one man’s life could be worth
I wonder what would happen to this world

Questioning and wondering…imagining and venturing…dreaming and reaching…these are the seeds that grow into faith. I wonder what would happen to this world if all those who questioned and wondered and dreamed fed the hungry, offered clean, clear water to the thirsty, visited the sick, and offered other signs of love and compassion to the least of our sisters and brothers. Even committed church folk might get inspired.

As “The Cotton Patch Gospel” came to an end, the closing song reprised the Great Commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as you love yourself.” Jesus’ words and Harry’s music.

I never did the Chapin tribute program. I found the conversation with Bill Ayers to be something of a healing time as I grieved for Harry Chapin, and I never found the words for the script I had to write for that show. I do know what music I would have chosen: “Flowers Are Red,” “Mr. Tanner,” “I Wonder What Would Happen to This World,” “Dreams Go By,” “W.O.L.D.,” “The Shortest Story,” and “Someone Keeps Calling My Name.” What would you add?

[I recently found the reel-to-reel tape of that phone conversation with Bill Ayers, but I haven’t gone back to listen.]

For lyrics to all his songs, go to The Harry Chapin Archive at harrychapin.com

Next, officiating at wedding of Cosmic John and Cosmic Kathy.

Backstage with Harry Chapin

[[ An odd thing: in the reports I get about folks reading this particular entry, many are “sent” here by doing a search for something like “Harry Chapin atheist.” Good grief, I thought; is that the main thing he’s known for? So, out of curiosity, I went to Wikipedia to read his bio, and there it is: “Harry Chapin was an atheist.” And a foot-noted citation led me to — oh no — my own blog.

So, if you have read this entry, I encourage you to read on…go to the next entry (The Good, They Die Young) and read what I perceive to be “the rest of the story.” — Jeff Kellam ]]

 

Harry Chapin was an American troubadour. His songs told of truck drivers, taxi drivers, dry cleaners, burned out deejays, and too-busy fathers. And a Texas sniper. Some of his songs were wistful; others angry. He founded World Hunger Year and wrote music for an off-Broadway show “The Cotton Patch Gospel,” based on the writings of Clarence Jordan of the Koinonia Community in Georgia. He was a hero of mine, as a singer and humanitarian, and he died way too young.

If Chapin’s music is heard on the radio these days, it is most probably his biggest hit “Cat’s in the Cradle.” In an interview at the Mosque Theater in Richmond, he told me that the words to the song were inspired by something his wife Sandy wrote and left on his desk when he had been away too much and too long. Touring and performing are the troubadour’s trade, but families are more important than fans, and Sandy’s broad hint that Harry was missing his son Josh grow up grew into a song that many dads could identify with. “When ya comin’ home, Dad?” “I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then, son.”

The first verse carried the admission, “He learned to walk while I was away.” And the last verse has the son, now grown, not having time to visit his old dad. “My boy was just like me.” Chapin told me that when he read his wife’s poem, it scared the hell out of him. And he recorded the song in order to scare the hell out of other fathers too busy to nurture their children. Naturally, I played the daylights out of that record on “Celebration Rock,” and on my other popular music shows, including the “Sunday Morning” program on WRVA. When the song was a hit, I think I was the only one who played it on WRVA, since the program director told me he wasn’t adding it to the station’s rotation. He thought the lyric would make fathers feel guilty, and “We play music for people to enjoy, not to feel bad about.” (I wondered at the time if that decision came about because PD’s were well-known for spending long hours at the station and Chapin’s cradle song hit them between the eyes.)

The interview with Harry Chapin took place backstage during the intermission of a Sunday night concert. He had arrived late at the theater, having missed his commercial flight and having hired a private plane to get to Richmond. He apologized to the audience, explaining that he had played the trumpet in church that morning as a favor to his former choir director. (Was it Mrs. McKittrick? Seems that’s what I remembered from the tape.) At some point in the interview, I asked him if, having been in church that morning, that meant he considered himself a religious person. “No, I don’t believe in God,” he replied.

He then went into a gentle rant about all the evil that had been done through the centuries by the Church in the name of their God. It was not the time for a debate, so we moved on to his concern about the world’s hungry children, and how his newly formed organization “World Hunger Year” would help bring people and communities together to fight world hunger. He did express gratitude that churches were among his strongest allies. But when I took the tape back to the studio for editing, I had quite a problem: what to do with his “I don’t believe in God” comment.

After all, the purpose of my program was to witness to the Christian faith, to share the Gospel, to interpret the teachings of Christ. The program was an outreach of the Presbyterian Church, and using contemporary popular music to help listeners grow in faith and love was what made the show. Curtis Mayfield had told me that the roots of his music grew out of his church experiences. Seals and Crofts deliberately held “firesides” after their concerts to promote their B’hai beliefs (and I gave them a platform on “Celebration Rock” to share that faith because of its interfaith connections). Noel Paul Stookey was glad to be interviewed for my show, not so much to promote his latest record, but because he wanted to share his faith journey and his evangelical witness. They fit the CR mold perfectly. (Though truth be told, it would have been “more perfect” if some well-known hit maker had admitted to being a Presbyterian!)

So, I faced this dilemma: what to do with Chapin’s admission that he was an agnostic, if not an atheist. It was only about 10 inches of magnetic tape, and a wax pencil would mark the beginning of that critical sentence and its end. A razor blade would slice across the edit block twice and splicing tape would join the cut tape together again. And no one would ever know he said it. I could even leave in the comments about all the harm that had been done by religious people through the ages. I’d play that and admit that I agreed with Chapin’s assessment, but offer some balance by reminding listeners that it was the compassion of Christ’s followers that would make World Hunger Year a success and redeem past sins and regretful acts.

But no. I had no need to censor Harry Chapin. Chapin was honest with me and I was honest with my listeners, and let the tape play back as recorded. If God could withstand the doubts of the Psalmist and the railing of prophets and the weak wills of disciples and misguided theology of certain saints and ordained sinners…well, Chapin’s statement of unfaith went over the air. And more than once, since it turned out to be such a good use of radio.

I did add this commentary, though. Some folks say they don’t believe in God, and act as if they do. Others say that they believe in God, but act as if they don’t. And it’s not up to me to separate the sheep from the goats.

Just before his tragic death on a New York highway, Chapin had completed the music and lyrics for an adaptation of a kind of country and western version of Godspell, the retelling of the Gospel accounts of the lfe and teachings of Jesus called “The Cotton Patch Gospel.” That off-Broadway production told the story of Jesus as if he had been born in rural Georgia. Chapin’s music was inspired. As was his life.

I have more to tell about Harry Chapin, including a phone interview I did soon after his death with one of Chapin’s best friends, a former priest. I never aired that interview. But I’ll tell you about it soon.

More on Loggins

Loggins at WLEE

Imagine the surprise of the overnight deejay at WLEE when Kenny Loggins and friends walked into the station in the middle of the night. We were headed for the production room to tape an interview for “Celebration Rock,” and the on air talent (whose name I don’t recall unfortunately) must have been taken aback by the commotion in the normally quiet station.

I hadn’t used the “LEE production room for a couple of years, so P.D. Ken Curtis found us some tape, set up the recorders, and went to make some tea for Loggins. (In the final edit, there’s no mistaking the sound of Loggins sipping his tea as I asked questions; it makes for a laid back interview!) I once did a CR program with a nighttime theme, and I noted that musicians on the road have to be “night people” given the late hours demanded by touring. The night before this interview, Loggins had been recording with Phoebe Snow into the early morning hours, and now here he was again, post-concert, post-party, having a seemingly coherent conversation as if it were anyone else’s late afternoon. On the other hand, I was up way past my bed time, a bit bleary-eyed, yet happy that we finally got a chance to talk.

And talk we did; by the end of the conversation I had enough interview segments to build a two-part Kenny Loggins mini-series, that is, two hour-long shows. Finding Loggins music to fill the two hours was easy, given his extensive Loggins and Messina catalog and cuts from his then-current L.P “Celebrate Me Home.” I still have both programs and can readily recall much of the interview content. Here are some highlights:

We talked about creativity, especially the art of song writing. Loggins spoke of how some songs just kind of appear on the wall of the room, and all he has to do is write them down. But other songs are more elusive, with a tune in search of a lyric. He reminded me that the three notes that Lennon and McCartney eventually turned into “Yesterday” were originally “scrambled eggs.” In other words nonsense lyrics have to be fine tuned into something that makes sense. (“Scrambled eggs…all my troubles seemed so far away…”) Loggins used a song on the “Celebrate Me Home” album to illustrate the point that independent song writers sometimes call on professional “song doctors” to fix problem poetry. He was working on a song called “I Believe in Love” and had intended it to be a fairly universal kind of love, general, maybe more along the lines of brotherhood. But he couldn’t get the lyric just right and turned to Alan and Marilyn Bergman for help. They “fixed” the lyric, but in doing so, they fashioned a more traditional romantic love theme.

As we spoke of the craft of song writing, it was clear that formulas won’t work for truly creative folk. The muse moves where it wills. Loggins cited a song called “Enter My Dream.” In that lyric he tells of a dream he had where poets and musicians were drifting along a river on a giant raft (“You know how dreams are,” he said.) It was one thing for poets to write one line of poetry and pass that line to the next poet who would add the next line, and on to the next writer who would pen the next one. The discipline that guided the creativity would be the meter, and probably the rhyme scheme. But imagine the musicians doing the same thing: writing a line of music and passing that line on to the next composer to write the next line, etc. That’s what the dream was about, and the resulting song was an invitation to “enter my dream.” Of course, as Loggins concluded his description of the dream on the final edit of the show, I cued up the song and used the long instrumental intro as a music bed under the interview. And since he was talking about this dream taking place on a river, I also added the Loggins-Messina song “Watching the River Run.”

At that time of night (or really early morning), conversations are more intimate it seems, and even though this was an interview for radio, Kenny Loggins shared some personal stories and insights into his life and background, his recent marriage, and some of his philosophy of life. He’s a very thoughtful, well-read, and articulate person. It was an extraordinary pleasure to fill up the first reel and ask Ken Curtis for a second one, with Loggins perfectly willing to continue.

 One other piece that is worth noting, especially in light of what I tended to do with the songs I played on “Celebration Rock.” I think I’ve said previously that part of the thrust of each program was my interpretation of song lyrics, and my admission that what I found in a song’s “meaning” wasn’t necessarily what the singer/songwriter meant when the song was written/recorded. I expressed to Loggins some curiosity about the title cut of the album “Celebrate Me Home.” (It has become somewhat of a seasonal classic at Christmastime each year, mostly based on the opening words, “Home for the holidays…”)

With “celebration” of life being the foundation of my program and its ministry, I shared my various interpretations of the song’s meaning, including a mention of the parable of the prodigal son. (Omitting the “holidays” reference, I was simply imagining the circumstances under which someone might be welcomed home after a long absence.) When I had finished my exegesis of the lyric, Loggins was quick to avoid comment on my interpretations. His response was, “Yes, and here’s another take on it..,” while avoiding coming down on one particular meaning for the song. In other words, the song means what you need or want or perceive it to mean. And that meaning may be very different tomorrow. Frankly, I felt vindicated by Loggins’ helpful remarks, and rarely felt the need to make excuses for my humble interpretations of song lyrics on future programs.

The conversation at that point also tied in with the parables of Jesus, parables whose meanings varied from listener to listener. “Let those with ears to hear…hear.” From the heart of the story-teller poet or rabbi to the heart of the listener, the Spirit lets us hear what is most helpful, if we listen with open minds.  Here we could cue the Loggins song “Heart to Heart.”

As late as it was when we had finished the interview, Kenny Loggins was more than willing to hang out at the studio for a while longer. He told Ken Curtis that he had wondered what it would be like to be a deejay, so of course, the all-night guy moved away from the mike for several minutes and Kenny Loggins deejayed the late night show.

There is still one more interview story I want to share while the memory is intact. It was an interview I did with Harry Chapin during the intermission of a concert at the Mosque Theater in Richmond. Coming soon…

Peace and grace to you…

Jeff Kellam

Another Late Night with Kenny Loggins

As I described a few posts back, interviews with the musicians who make our music can help us understand the nature of creativity, the joy of entertaining, and the hard work that is behind every so-called star. And those interviews don’t come easy for small-time producers in small-to-medium markets. Most of the big names don’t have time for us. And after that ill-fated interview with two members of the band Lynyrd Skynrd, I wasn’t too keen to stay up all night to interview just another hit maker.

But the Columbia Records rep asked if I’d be interested in interviewing Kenny Loggins when he came to Richmond for a concert and that was an easy call for me. Loggins was on his own now after several years (and multiple hits) teamed with Jim Messina. His album “Celebrate Me Home” was doing well, and I had already played several tracks from it on “Celebration Rock” before Loggins was scheduled to appear in Richmond. (Since his solo act was still something of an unknown quantity, he was booked to play the intimate Empire Theater downtown on Broad Street.) Randy Allen told me I could talk with Loggins in the afternoon of the concert day. Just stop by the Holiday Inn on Broad Street (it was across the street from WLEE), and the desk clerk would ring his room. Sounded too easy to me; I hadn’t had great luck with these connections before.

At the appointed time, around 2 or 3 that afternoon, the desk clerk gave me the phone number for Loggins room. The phone rang several times and Loggins himself answered. He was taking a nap, he explained. He’d been up all night the night before, recording with Phoebe Snow. Ah! “And how is she these days,” I asked. Last time we talked she was on her “Poetry Man” tour with Jackson Browne, I told him. (Made us sound like old friends, huh? This is called building a relationship of trust and credibility by implying something that is only half true. I hadn’t really said something that was untrue…I just hadn’t told the whole truth, and that was that I had interviewed Phoebe Snow… once.) “She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Loggins replied. “Listen, I’d love to do this interview later, OK? I have to get some rest. How about tonight, during the intermission. Just come back stage!”

So, here’s the familiar refrain: I didn’t have a ticket to the concert, so that night after the show had begun at the Empire, I did find someone in the ticket booth and announced myself. Jeff Kellam, “Celebration Rock.” Randy Allen with Columbia set this up. Backstage interview during intermission. The guy in the booth said something like, “You can’t come in here without a ticket.” Straightforward enough. “Maybe you can try getting in the stage door in the back alley.”

Oh, great. So, I cautiously skulk through the dark alley and find the only thing that resembles a stage door, and I hear the Loggins concert going on inside. I try the door. Foolish. They don’t leave those doors open for alley skulkers.

I thought about knocking, but then I thought, if I can hear Loggins inside on the stage, if I pound loud enough on the stage door, maybe everyone who bought a ticket will hear me knocking! I imagined Kenny Loggins stopping in the middle of “Danny’s Song” and walking to the back of the stage to let me in. I thought better of it. And I drove to the hotel.

I waited in the lobby and when the singer and his Columbia Records entourage and various hangers-on returned from the concert, I caught Randy Allen’s eye and told him about both the afternoon and evening situations. No problem, Randy said. He was apologetic. “We’ve got a little party here for Kenny in the ballroom. Can you wait a little longer? We’ll set something up before too long tonight.” So, I did wait. For quite a while.

Around 2 a.m., Randy and Kenny and a few others emerged from the party and as they walked by the pathetic radio guy with his Uher Report-L reel-to-reel recorder, Randy saw me and was genuinely chagrined! “Jeff! My gosh; you’re still here!” He turned to Kenny and said, “That’s Jeff Kellam and he’s been waiting for an interview with you for twelve hours! Are you up for a short conversation with him?”

Loggins might have said, “Oh, yeah…Phoebe Snow’s pal.” But instead he said, “Are you the one who woke me up from my nap this afternoon?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are one patient man! Yes, let’s do this thing!” Instead of using my equipment, WLEE’s Ken Curtis invited us to use the WLEE production studio across the street. Curtis made some tea, and Loggins and I sat down for what turned out to be one of the best interviews I’ve ever done. Kenny Loggins was laid back, friendly, honest, open, and in no hurry to leave.

More about that night…or morning…in the next post.

Peer Pressure spots:2

 I ran across one of the basketball spots described in the previous post:

Ralph Sampson: Hi, I’m Ralph Sampson. I play basketball for the University of Virginia. There were some times this past season that the pressure of the game really got to me. Coaches, fans, and teammates have high expectations, and it’s hard to live up to them.

Announcer: If you’re a teenager, you under the same kind of pressure.

Sampson: It may not be as intense as the final minute of a close game. But that pressure can cause some problems…like when some friends are pushing you to do something you think is wrong…or making you become someone you don’t want to be. If I collapse under pressure in a basketball game, I might miss and important shot or fail to pull down a key rebound.

Announcer: But if you give in to peer pressure, you can lose more than a game.

Sampson: You can lose self-respect…or confidence in your ability to make your own decisions. I don’t think it’s ever a good idea to sacrifice your self-esteem in order to score a few points with your friends.

Announcer: Chances are, good friends will respect you…if you respect yourself.

This message brought to you by the Junior League of Richmond, and Mayfair House of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church. 

The Basketball Spots

This is the story of one of the best things I ever did in radio. And it has nothing to do with music, rock or otherwise. “Celebration Rock” wasn’t the only radio program I did in Richmond. (In future post, I’ll try to list the titles of each one, ranging from “Ecumenics in Action” to “Starlight Jazz.”) My media ministry included many efforts designed to fit the formats of several local stations, as well as the production of soundtracks and narrations for church and non-profit organizations. I also did my share of public service announcements (PSA’s) for non-profits, donating my time and WBBL’s studio facilities. It was part of the church’s wider mission of peacemaking, grace-bearing, and hope-building. Of course, if it hadn’t been for “Celebration Rock,” many of these opportunities would never have come.

In the early 1980’s, I was invited to help with a project coordinated by the Junior League of Richmond and Mayfair House, a ministry of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church. In the months prior to this project, some local teenagers had died in automobile crashes attributed to drunk driving. Those tragic losses led a group of concerned parents and church folk to consider some preventative measures, that is, to see if there were some way to urge teen drivers to consider more carefully the choices they would make as they got behind the wheel. By the time I was brought into the conversation as a media consultant, the group’s research had already reached some conclusions. They had decided on a radio spot or series that would air on the stations that had the highest ratings among high school youth. The spots wouldn’t focus on drunk driving, but on what this group considered a root cause of the problem: peer pressure.

The group had a general message they wanted to broadcast, and they were prepared to find the money to buy time for the spots. (I told them that asking the big stations for free public service time for their PSA’s would be risky. The donated time slots would likely be sporadic, even non-existent during the times that the largest audience was listening. Buying the time for their spots meant that they had some choice over when and how often the spots would be heard among the targeted audience of teen drivers.) Next came the struggle with how to say what they wanted to say without turning off the audience with preachy advice from well-meaning, even caring, adults. It was agreed that we needed a “spokesperson” kids would trust, someone close to their age, and whose advice they would be more likely to heed. I recall the brainstorming session we had, the celebrity names that came up, and the reality factor: how would we get to this singer or that TV star and hope they’d do this for what we could afford?

Now this was the Ralph Sampson era at the University of Virginia. And during our conversation about how to proceed, someone casually mentioned that all the kids they knew personally were really caught up in UVA’s basketball exploits. Even the girls knew the players’ names and were excited about the prospects of a national championship. (Yes, this was a very long time ago!) Maybe we could get the players to voice the spots. Someone else knew an insider at UVA athletics. “Why don’t I make a call or two?” It was a plan.

The University liked the idea of community service along these lines, the coach agreed with the plan, and all five members of the starting five had signed on! It looked like I would be traveling over to Charlottesville to tape some interviews with the team. We assumed we would prompt them in some way about content, but hadn’t given that much thought when the word came from the UVA sports department that the players needed to see a script. A script? About peer pressure and drinking. And then they would record the script(s) and mail a tape to us. (There went my chance to see Sampson!)

The assignment fell to me to write the copy.  I hadn’t a clue about how to start the first sentence. Here I was a Presbyterian minister in my 30’s writing words for nationally-known college basketball stars in their early 20’s who would be communicating (we hoped) with 17 year-old teen drivers on their way to a party. It took a while for the Spirit to move on this one, or at least for me to hear the Spirit move. It took days to get an idea for the first spot, but once the words found their way to the yellow legal pad, I found the second spot coming easier. I’m not sure I had intended to write five spots, but there they were, one 60-second spot for each player. (I was glad we weren’t talking football here…that would have been maybe 22 spots?)

We mailed the typed scripts to UVA, and the players looked over all five and each chose his favorite and recorded it. I’m told that Ralph Sampson spend a long time to make sure his sounded right, and the other four guys were great too, considering they were reading someone else’s words. Eventually an audiocassette arrived with the voices of Othell Wilson, Ricky Stokes, Jeff Lamp, Jeff Jones, and Sampson. It wasn’t the audio quality we had hoped for. So we took the cassette up to the Church Hill studios of WRVQ (one of the stations we were buying time on) and hoped their engineers could work some magic. I wish I could recall which Q94 staff person helped us, but he had two solid suggestions to improve the sound of the spots, beyond the technical help. “Jeff, these guys are OK, but the spots need some life…maybe some music or another voice to keep things moving.” His suggestion was that my voice take several lines from each spot, to alternate with the voices of the players.

We couldn’t afford to buy production music, so I took a stereo recorder down to the VCU Franklin Street gym and taped the ambient sounds of a pick-up basketball game there: squeaky sneakers on the waxed floor, basketballs being dribbled and shot, the sounds of rims rattling and nets swishing. All we had to edit out were the voices of the intramural players who happened to be Vietnamese, and who didn’t sound at all like the UVA starting five! We added the SFX under the alternating voices and we had some terrific spots for a very worthy project.

The sponsoring organizations bought late afternoon and early evening packages on the four or five biggest stations. (Most of the stations bought into the project by donating additional time!) Jerry Lindquist, a Richmond Times-Dispatch sports writer, came to the WBBL studio to interview me about the series, with the result that for the first and only time in my life, I had my photo in the sports section! It was a lengthy story with the headline: “UVA Basketball Joins the War on Peer Pressure.”

There was still more to do, and I salute the Junior League and Mayfair House for the next step. After the spots had run their course, volunteers interviewed scores of teenagers at local schools to ask them 1) if they had heard the spots, and 2) what were they about? The market research showed that almost 70% of the kids they interviewed had heard the spots and most knew exactly what the spots were about. I saw the survey sheets, and one kid said, “Some crap about peer pressure.” Yeah, but he got the message, didn’t he?

This project, from the initial brainstorming to the post-broadcast informal survey, was a model for church and community cooperation, non-profits joining with a major university and commercial broadcasters, to address an issue of deep concern. It doesn’t happen every day.

Sing Loud, and Leave the Listening to Somebody else

Through the many years I produced “Celebration Rock,” I came to know a number of musicians whose names didn’t quite make it to national music charts, but whose gifts were remarkable nonetheless. Through Presbyterian youth circles I met Meisburg and Walters. Steve Meisburg and John Paul Walters had performed at Union Seminary, at Montreat Conferences, and other venues where their smooth harmonies and endearing stories proved both entertaining and inspiring. They wrote their own songs, performed as a team, and also let one another do some solo work at each show. Their first albums were privately funded and personally distributed, and the first one (I think) was named for a southern traditional folk song “I See the Morning Breaking.” They referred to their music as “high country.” No musician wants to be compared with another, but for the sake of description let’s just say that they had an “England Dan and John Ford Coley” sound. After two or three records on the “Parchment” label, they signed with a major label of the 1970’s, Casablanca Records (which was big into disco, including Donna Summer and the Village People, but also KISS and Cher). After years of paying dues, finding wide acceptance for their gentle style and some prophetic social justice storytelling, to be signed by Casablanca should have been a big step toward national exposure. But…

With a touch of embarrassment, Steve and John told me in an interview that their new producer appreciated their original songs, but thought a new cover of “Mighty Quinn” would be great for their first Casablanca L.P. Covering Bob Dylan and Manfred Mann wasn’t their choice, but they were learning that in the big business of music there were “powers that be” who exercised control over repertoire. With their musical sound rather out of sync with that which Casablanca was heavily promoting, it was no wonder that the L.P. failed to take off. Before their Casablanca days, I had interviewed Meisburg and Walters two or three times, and featured their albums on “Celebration Rock” even though they weren’t well known nationally. The last interview was for the ill-fated Casablanca release. Then the team broke up.

(Meisburg had been a pastor, perhaps UCC, and later went into city government in Tallahassee, Florida. I’m sure he continued to perform as a singer-musician, too.) 

John Paul Waters continued to write and perform, and was always a big hit at Montreat. His private label records and tapes were filled with a wonderful collection of traditional and original songs and stories. I know we did at least one “solo” interview and CR show with his music, and I used several of his songs as I developed particular thematic shows.

Another musician I enjoyed working with was Steve Bassett. While Meisburg and Walters made only a few trips to Richmond for an occasional appearance, Steve Bassett considered the Richmond area home, and his talent was evident on local recordings, concert venues, local TV, numerous benefits, and a continuing gig at a small club called The North Pole just outside the city. I saw Steve entertain thousands at Dogwood Dell, tape a public TV special for an invitation-only audience, and play for just handful of patrons at the North Pole. Blue-eyed soul. (When Richie Havens sang an old Amtrak commercial years ago, I swore it was Steve!)

Like M&W, Steve had signed with a major label after many self-produced efforts. The label was Columbia, and the man who finally “discovered” Steve was the legendary John Hammond, Sr. While that album didn’t propel Steve into the “big time,” he continued his career as what might be called a “journeyman” musician. He opened for some big names, did music for a number of national and regional commercials, and was always willing to “give back” to his local community, particularly for the Central Virginia March of Dimes, for which he wrote and produced a small masterpiece called “Walk with Us.” (The Columbia album also opened the doors to expanding Steve’s reach to New York, Nashville, Chicago., and beyond.) 

The first Steve Bassett songs I remember playing on “Celebration Rock” were “A Poor Man’s Life (Is a Rich Man’s Dream)” and “No Good for Her.” His biggest song was a collaboration with Robbin Thompson “Sweet Virginia Breeze.” A song Steve wrote gave a title to a modest book of his lyric poetry, “Sing Loud (and Leave the Listening to Somebody Else)” I loved the spirit of that song, particularly because the “somebody” might well have referred to the Author of all our music, one whom Steve often referred to as “Him” while pointing heaven-ward. Steve’s piety wasn’t played out in church, but at least in conversations with me, on- and off-air, he gave credit where credit was due.

I not only had the opportunity to feature Steve’s music on the radio (including the “Celebration Rock” jingle I referred to in yesterday’s post), but Steve graciously agreed to be my special guest at the first and only official “Celebration Rock” retreat, an overnight event at the Presbytery’s Camp Hanover near Richmond. Steve and a few other musicians and fans gathered to talk about the creative process of song-writing and performance, while I, as usual, wove the theological and biblical threads through the time we shared. I just went to the Steve Bassett website, and I see that he is as busy as ever, and that his “Mystic Soul Bubbas” beach music band is booked well into 2008.

I do treasure these old records, and I still enjoy playing back the interviews. We all had some good times together and it was a privilege to share them with a big bunch of listeners from Norfolk, VA. to Salem, OR. Here’s something we all need to remember: there are many, many very talented musicians “out there” whose voices will never be heard on “American Idol” or whose work will never find the recognition they deserve. Some of those singers will only find a choir loft, a school stage, or a social networking link as venues for performance. Bless ’em, some folks have weak voices with which to sing profound lyrics and deeply human stories; and there are others whose rich musical talents are wasted on poetry that is shallow or silly. Then there are the modern psalmists and musical prophets and gospel-tellers and children of amazing grace whom God uses as angels (messengers) to awaken and inspire us.

If you are one of them, then God bless you! Sing loud…and leave the listening to Somebody else!

Celebration, Rock, Rock, Rock

Many entries ago I wrote about an ill-fated “jingle package” I bought on the cheap through the mail. Back then the program was called “Showcase” and I took a chance that a distant desperate musician might come up with a cool-sounding musical jingle for small change. I was wrong. The resulting jingle was embarrassingly bad, and if I ever aired it, it was only for a week or two, to justify my having spent a few bucks on it.

I wanted my fledgling show to sound like Top 40 radio and Top 40, Top 30, Top 20 radio…they all had jingles. Casey Kasem had a jingle. So did Dick Clark. I wasn’t alone in knowing that we needed to pump up the production values a bit, even without expensive jingles. One friend, Randy Spiers, who had worked at the University of Virginia station (I hope that’s right) recorded an intro to the “Showcase” program that included a WBBL station ID, along with some musical FX that added a little spark as the program signed on each week. Later, Steve Hendrix did something similar, and more spectacularly, for “Celebration Rock.” I remember it as being a dynamic voice intro with a great musical theme that Steve had borrowed from somewhere. I loved the way Steve energized the show’s name and segued into the music. I would then talk over the remaining theme and move right into the first record. Still, there was no real jingle that was exclusive to “Celebration Rock.”

Until a recording session at Richmond’s former Alpha Audio studios. There were three principal musicians involved in this project, and I’ve forgotten how we all came together that day. I think that local Christian musican Ken Priddy and I had been working on a project together. One way or another, I asked Ken if he would write a jingle for my show. It was more of a lark than a formal contract. He knew “Celebration Rock” well, and agreed to think about it. It was risky on my part; what if he had come up with something I didn’t care for? I’d feel obligated to use it now and then just because he had offered it to me. It was risky on Ken’s part; what if he poured heart and soul into it and then I never used it. But nothing ventured…

At about the same time, Richmond’s favorite son musician Steve Bassett (“Sweet Virginia Breeze”) was working on a project with church musician Larry Bland who directed a phenomenon called “The Volunteer Choir,” a dynamic African American chorus. They were recording at Alpha Audio, and it’s safe to say that the Spirit drew us all to that place that day: Kellam, Priddy, Bassett, Bland, and the Choir. When the main reason for renting the recording studio was accomplished, Ken and Steve and Larry and his choir hung around for a time, and collaborated on Ken’s lively composition called “Celebration Rock.” Ken at the piano, Steve at the Hammond B-3 (with Leslie), Larry directing the Volunteers, and the Alpha Audio engineers and I grinning ear-to-ear — it was a wonder to hear that thing come together: hand-clapping gospel, rich African-American vocals, Steve Bassett’s powerfully distinctive voice. I can hear it now:

“Now is the time to join in the celebration…lift up your hands and join in the jubilation!” There was an invitation to come share the bread and drink some wine,  and feel real fine! It was a downright sacramental jingle! And the last phrase echoed again and again, with hands clapping and Hammond B-3 swinging: Celebration…Rock, Rock, Rock!

OK, I know this account doesn’t do the thing any justice at all! But all those local musical gifts coming together for this one simple project made for an exciting time in the studio that day, and it was something I was able to relive every time I played the piece on the radio show. And I played it a lot!

If I can find a way to link the audio to this blog some day, you can hear it for yourself. Heart and soul, indeed.

Next, a few more words about Steve Bassett, a true “celebration rocker.”