Hendrix, Cream, stadiums youth and experience (from 2008)

I was just thinking about Jimi Hendrix and imagining him still alive today. He would be about 68 tears old I wonder what he'd be doing? We'll obviously never know. Just imagine though! Imagine what he would have accomplished in the last 37 years. It's mind boggling, really. I saw him perform with band at Madison Square Garden in NYC. That was his short set. Someone evidently dosed him with LSD and he couldn't play. I just remember it as being an amazing experience. I really don't remember anything else including the music. Hey, I was young. It was one of my first concerts, so I was probably blown away by the scene. I also saw the Cream at the Garden also. It was one of their last concerts. This was all in the late '60s. If anyone can remember the dates for me, let me know. I remember the Cream concert - at least a little more than the Hendrix concert. By the way, I don't know for sure, but I probably was stoned out of my mind for both shows. I did a lot of pot in high school and I'm sure, for those concerts, I was stoned. But I digress. They played on a revolving stage. Not a fast revolving stage, of course. The place was packed and the noise was incredible! The excitement too. They were incredibly loud. Every time that the front of the stage turned to us, the blast of sound hit us with such force that we were pushed back against our seats. That's what it seemed like anyway. It was really amazing. I was a very impressionable 16 or 17 year old. A musician too. I had never heard or seen anything like it before. It was a very visceral experience - and one I'll never forget. Thinking about it now from a jaded old man's point of view, makes it seem different somehow. I now "know" what it is all about. Been there done that, so to speak. I've played loud too. But to have that "remembrance" , that visceral remembrance is something I'll always remember and I know it's kind of special. I'll always have the Garden. I do still like my music loud - sometimes. But, more importantly, I like my music good - loud, soft or in-between. What a difference a 35 year perspective makes. Another thing that has changed is my liking for a different setting than the big concert setting. I like a more intimate setting. I went to hear Phil Lesh and Friends and The Levon Helm Band last summer at The Boston Pavilion. It was a real fine show, but I was too far away. I couldn't get the feeling right. I couldn't actually feel the music. I could feel the crowd some, but that didn't quite seem enough for me. I really like being close up - big halls have lost their appeal to me for sure. I've spent the last 4 years doing live sound for bands at Johnny D's in Somerville, MA. It's a 200 person club. Being close was very nice. I could smell the performers. Not really, but you get the idea. I like it that way now. Being close really makes you part of the music. That's where i am a now. The big old stadium days for me had its uses and had its fun for me. But the early stadium music experiences will be something I'll always have a fond place in my heart for, Hendrix and the Cream live on for me and every time I play a small 50 seater, I try to channel that Hendrix and Cream energy through my guitar - not in volume but in experience.

Evolution of ideas by a layman (from 2008)

These are just some musings during an early fall morning. I wanted to think about this in an abstract way and try to make sense out of things. Who know whether I succeeded or not? So take it all with the proverbial grain of salt. It's in response to the millions of organizations around the globe all saying that they have the right perspective in things so we should follow them.......

I don't trust that it is possible to do the right thing with the state of things the way they are. People are idiots(myself included) and the system is set up wrong to have things turn out right. It seems that people will just pay lip service to change and do what is in the best interest of themselves. We all do that. The "right" thing is elusive and not many are built that way - meaning not many will subvert themselves to do the right thing for the many. What is the right thing? That's the question of the day, week, month, etc. The right thing is what is good for everyone. But since that is impossible, the right thing has to come in little sectional pieces and a little at a time. But if you extrapolate it to encompass the whole world, the ideas might not work for everyone and consequently not be the "right" thing at that point. The ideas have to grow, change and evolve, until the general ideas become large enough to fit everyone. Is this possible? I don't know. But you start with the basic premise that what you are doing is the right thing, test it, and then keep growing and test it and so on. Base your ideas on solid ground - like gravity is real for everyone, food is real for everyone, air is real for everyone, and so on and there you go. These things are needed by everyone and at the very least you have solid ground and then you go from there. An example is: Now everyone doesn't want to be a farmer, so how does all that fit into the premise? Like that. So the ideas are constantly being challenged and if it all works for everyone, these ideas will be constantly tested, evaluated and integrated and the work will evolve, hopefully, and grow to encompass everyone. The goal is universal.

Kenny Selcer November 2008

Electric and Loud (from 2008)

I had a good time today - playing some music with the boys down at Tommy Doyle's in Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA. Electric and loud. I like to play that way, though most of my gigs for the past umpteen years have been acoustic. I can do either, though I look forward to the times when I play electric. Mickey Hart once said that if it's worth playing, it's worth playing loud. I agree, though I usually don't say that to many people, especially to the acoustic fans out there in my world. In the 90's, most of my gigs were in the New England acoustic scene. I was part of a duo with Jill Stein. It seemed as if we played every small coffeehouse and venue in the area. I became a "folkie" by default. We played sort of world folk for the lack of a better description. Our music was very rhythmic. We knew, and I still swear by it, that rhythm is everything - or maybe I should say that it's the foundation for all music - and life too. Where would we be without our hearts beating in time. When it goes off beat, we die. As simple as that. But, I digress. Rhythm is feeling - it's body. It's visceral. Music has to have that. Duke Ellington said that if it ain't got that swing it don't mean a thing. I extrapolate that to mean that swing is rhythm, the core, the root of all music. Now you don't have to swing like the jazzers do, but you have to "swing" your music to where you feel the music, where the music is in your body and not just in your head. It stems from the ground, or from the earth. From that point you can reach for the sky and the stars and play any damn thing you want. So, back to Tommy Doyle's - I go there to have a good time and jam some with friends and with whomever shows up. It's good for me. I don't know about the audience though. Do they like it? It seems that way. But for myself, I need to play and sing to my heart's content. It's a reconnection for me from a week of thinking. It's healing, but that's another story, for another time. So Electric and Loud. Add tasteful to that and you've got something. Kenny