Closing thoughts on R&R show

Based on last night's four-hour Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame concert on HBO, here are a few closing thoughts:

It's not as easy, even for rock legends, to sing other people's songs. Billy Joel came up short on Bruce Springsteen tunes. Someone needed to take the microphone from Stevie Wonder when singing Roxanne with Sting. However, Springsteen did fairly well singing Fortunate Son with John Fogerty. And Fergie did a nice job on the bridge during Gimme Shelter with Mick Jagger and U2.

I switched over to the Ravens-Steelers football game during the Paul Simon segment.

Why is Aretha Franklin considered a rock performer?

Jerry Lee Lewis is done.

BB King is close to done.

Ozzie was done years ago.

I don't make these comments to be mean. But we all hit a certain age where even nostalgia isn't a good reason to take to the stage. For some, that's 50. For others, maybe it's 80. David Crosby can still sing and Stephen Stills can still play guitar. That's cool. But a few performers were on the verge of embarrassing themselves like Willie Mays in a Mets uniform. Fortunately, musicians have a longer shelf life than athletes.

I think one key to longevity is in altering one's game as Johnny Cash did in his final years. I mean I don't need to see Jerry Lee Lewis throwing his piano stool anymore or BB singing about the thrill being gone. Heck, the thrill was gone about two or three decades ago, I am guessing. Cash went to the dark side in the twilight of his career, singing edgier songs that tweaked his image and played to his aging vocal cords, and it worked. He won Grammys for his efforts and gained the respect of a new generation of rock musicians while maintaining his long-time, country-based fans.

Overall, though, the concert was good. Nice to hear real music in prime time. Too bad it wasn't on one of the major broadcast networks where all we seem to get are hip-hop award shows.

Making music: A journey back

This six-minute video shows images - some dating back almost 35 years - as well as audio tracks of two of the rock bands I have played in. Crystal Legend was a garage band from my high school days that occasionally has reunited in recent years. The Clueless Bandits is a more recent band I helped form in Virginia. While we obviously never made it big, music was and still is an important hobby to everyone who is shown in this video. The photographs and video clips are not professional grade. They are just a collection of images and audio made by various folks over the years. Enjoy.

Hangin' with the band in Miami

This was one of my first record albums. It was given to me by the band's members when I was a kid.

Pacific Gas & Electric was staying in the same Miami Beach hotel as my family. It was sometime in the late 1960s. I was no more than 12 years old.

I was shooting pool by myself when the dudes walked into the room. It was obvious that these guys were either in a rock band or a biker gang. I liked music but never heard of this band. Still, it was very cool meeting them. We played pool together a few times over the course of several days. I was somewhat of a cocky little kid from Long Island, so this didn't feel that strange to me.

The band took a liking to me for some reason. I found out that they were basing themselves in Miami for a couple weeks while they gigged around the state and into Georgia. They took small, private planes to their shows and were playing in some music festival locally. They even invited me to one of the gigs, which in hindsight seems almost a bit creepy. My parents weren't thrilled that I was hanging out with long-haired hippies. Still, I wasn't going to be denied a chance to be an unofficial part of the band for a few days. I didn't make it to the gig, however. That just wasn't going to fly with the parents.

For a kid who was well on his way to being a fan of all things rock 'n' roll, this chance encounter with the band sent me on my way to learning to play guitar and starting up some garage bands. I never took a lesson, but neither did PG&E's guitarist, Tom Marshall. Like him, I was self taught.

My favorite guys in the band were Brent Block, bassist, and Charlie Allen, lead singer. To this day, I remember how Block signed my album cover: "Boogie on." Unfortunately, the vinyl album is long gone. I remember Block looking like a taller version of Dennis Hopper in the movie, Easy Rider.

Allen was originally a drummer from Baltimore. He eventually became lead singer because of his bluesy, dynamic voice. He was replaced on drums by Canned Heat's former drummer, Frank Cook.

The band's only hit was Are You Ready. The song is rarely if ever played on classic rock radio stations. But I can still hear it in my head. Probably played it a thousand times when I was a kid.

I liked Charlie Allen the best, probably because he had that lead singer, charismatic quality. But he also had a down-to-earth, lived-the-blues aura about him. If I recall correctly, he was the only black guy in the band. When I Googled his name recently, I found out that he died in 1990 at age 48. Not sure what the caused of death was, but living the rock 'n' roll life was pretty hard on many musicians from that era.

I remember that vacation ending with my walking through the hotel lobby and being handed the autographed album. Allen and Block were there to give it to me. Might have been one or two other guys there, too. Roadies or managers. They also signed some hotel brochure cards.

It was depressing leaving the hotel and going back to being an ordinary kid. At that age one can have all sorts of dreams about being famous and living the life. It was kind of nice to be able to dream like that - to be able to think that everything would just fall into place in life.

Let it be

The Beatles never seem to go away. Never seem to find their proper resting place in music history. Half of them are dead. One still tours. And the fourth, Ringo, probably thanks the rock gods daily for the good fortune of being in the band of the century with just mediocre drumming talent and vocal ability that isn't exactly in the same league as Robert Plant. I must say, however, I liked Ringo in the movie, "Caveman."

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate The Beatles. I own a few of their CDs. I loved Abbey Road. I liked them more when they became a little scruffier later in their careers, but appreciate their entire body of work despite the silly suits and cereal bowl haircuts in the early 60s.

However, all the latest hoopla over the Fab Four is becoming a little annoying because it's no longer about the music. It's about making money. How many times are people going to try to get rich off of this band by repackaging the same old songs? The latest venture involves the remastering, in stereo, of classic Beatles albums. This comes on the heals of new video games that feature the band's music. Over the years, marketing experts, record companies and others have given us Beatlemania and Cirque du Soleil's LOVE. We've had box sets and gone from vinyl to tape to CD. You could spend hundreds of dollars just repurchasing the same Beatles albums in different formats. And don't forget all the DVDs.

I am not buying anymore Beatles stuff, just like I am not buying anymore Jimi Hendrix albums. I am a Rolling Stones kind of guy, anyway. Always preferred the Stones' bad boy image and edgier music. And say what you will about Mick and the boys, but at least they are still putting out new music and performing for audiences. And for the most part, they are all still alive. Only bassist Bill Wyman has left the band. And no one paid attention to him anyway. Of course, Brian Jones, a guitarist, died many years ago. His eventual replacement, Ron Wood, has carried on very nicely for decades.

I think all this Beatles marketing is just another indication of how bad music is today. I find myself going back in time and listening to artists who predated me rather than moving forward to listen to hip-hop or other types of modern music. I rather listen to Sinatra, Cash or The Temptations than endure yet another rap song with the same exact beat as thousands of other rap songs. But even with that said, I can't keep plunging into my wallet to buy another version of Help!

The Beatles are one of the greatest musical groups in any era in any genre, but until science (or music companies) figure out a way to get Paul, John, Ringo and George back into the recording studio or on stage at Wolf Trap, I am done spending money on their music.

Mr. Tallarico takes a tumble

Steven Tyler, the 61-year-old singer of the rock band Aerosmith, fell off a stage in South Dakota a few weeks ago. See the video: http://www.tmz.com/2009/08/06/steven-tyler-aerosmith-falling-fall-stage-video/

Tyler had to be airlifted to the hospital with multiple injuries. Now this could have happened to anyone of any age, but the fact that it happened to an aging rocker, who tends to act a little silly for his years, made more than a few baby-boomer fans of the band cringe. We don't like to see our idols from our youth embarrassing themselves, let alone get injured or die. I am sure prior generations felt the same way about Elvis and even Sinatra. One became a drugged out caricature of himself (I am talking about Elvis, not Michael Jackson), and the other simply couldn't hit the notes that he once sang with a silky ease because of old age. Yet, there was a nostalgic factor that kept fans coming back for more. And I am sure most entertainers thrive on fan support like a CEO feeds upon rising stock prices.

I suppose it's hard for anyone to walk away from what they like to do. For an entertainer, and those who have been cheered for decades by audiences, it must be extra difficult to call it quits. Look at Willie Mays in baseball a few decades ago. A mega sports star whose final years on the field were painful to watch. Now we see Brett Favre in football not wanting to hang them up.

But it's not just entertainers. I haven't met too many men who truly want to retire. They might curse their place of employment every day, but I doubt many career guys honestly long for the shuffleboard courts of Boca Raton.

Women, however, seem to have an easier time walking away from jobs and careers. Their identities seem less connected to their occupations, which is probably why they are more grounded than men. Men tend to run around creating wars, committing crimes, leaving their children at an astonishingly higher rate than women.

Now don't get me wrong, some women will go to great lengths to hold onto their looks, personal or professional interests, and to their relevance in society. But by and large, it's men who go out and buy a new Corvette with each decade crisis and chase their secretaries around the office in order to feel good about themselves. The male ego is quite a force.

I snickered a bit when I heard of Tyler falling off the stage. In some ways, it was a nervous reaction on my behalf. I've tripped over more than my fair share of guitar cords in recent years -- bumped my head on microphones and strained muscles awkwardly lifting amplifiers. And I know that it's all related to being a bit more clumsy in my 50s than I was at 18. Of course, unlike Tyler, I am not coloring my hair and wearing uncomfortable shoes, while prancing around like it's 1975. In that way, I am aging more gracefully, I think. More accepting of where I am at.

Still, a man does feel pressure to do a lot of different things to try to stay in the game as they get older. There is always some young lion waiting to take you out. That pressure often leads us to do very dumb things. But the less fanciful among us usually just start blogging or joining Facebook to show we are current and still viable.

Tyler's real name is Steven Victor Tallarico. He is originally from Yonkers, N.Y. My full name is Michael John Calvacca. I guess we all, figuratively speaking, have a stage name or persona we carry with us through our careers and life itself.

Dream on Mr. Tallarico.

Still running on empty

"I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through.
Looking into their eyes I see them running too."

- Jackson Browne

We saw Jackson Browne perform recently at a concert outside of Washington, D.C. The audience rose in unison when he played "Running on Empty." It was a crowd made up of mostly 50somethings. Browne, like many classic rockers, is in his 60s. Of course, this tune was one of his hits back in the day when he recorded it at Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Md. But it still resonated with people in 2009. I wondered whether it was the music or the lyrics that most inspired people. I am guessing it was a bit of both.

Just when we boomers thought these would be the grounded, calm years, many of us find ourselves running again. Running from fears of job loss. Running from worries about retirement. Running from divorce, foreclosures and the loss of old or ailing friends. Running from hair loss and liver spots.

Some folks run to things, too. Can be equally draining to try to remain relevant in the eyes of our colleagues, family and friends. Especially when they also have their troubles to contend with.

Some want to run towards youthfulness. Plastic surgery is very alive and well in the pricier Northern Virginia suburbs. Boob jobs and lasik procedures abound. I am guessing as the job market starts getting even tighter, so will the faces of men and women with the money to look more youthful to potential employers. Just another thing to compete against.

But for one night at the Wolf Trap concert grounds, none of us felt like we were running on empty. Eyes were bright. Smiles were real and wide. Plenty of fuel left in the tank in the geezers on the lawn and in the box seats. There was a collective sense that, hey, here we are...a few more wrinkles but still kicking. Still appreciating great music, fresh air and a glass or two of wine. My wife and I were particularly grateful for the free tickets her employer gave to us.

Browne's band performed flawlessly. His new music was melodic. Yes, he's still writing songs. His old tunes, like "Take It Easy," were played with new energy aided by soulful backup vocalists. For a couple hours, we could stop running and just enjoy the moment or take an easy trip down memory lane. The power of music never fails to amaze me.