Nostalgic. Again.

Bein' of a certain age (are ya tired o' that line yet, Gentle Reader?)... I made sure to catch "Troubadours" on PBS' American Masters last week.  About which: a damned good show, mebbe even a great show.  Here's a blurb from the PBS web site:

The narrative begins in the ’60s, when Carole King and Gerry Goffin were writing their now-iconic songs at Manhattan’s 1650 Broadway hit factory, and James Taylor was emerging as a folksinger/songwriter. The location then shifts westward to L.A.’s Laurel Canyon, the breeding ground for the burgeoning singer-songwriter community, and to Doug Weston’s Troubadour, where the King/Taylor partnership begins to blossom and a close-knit crew of future legends — including Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell, Eagles, and Elton John—performs on the small stage and holds court in the bar, the epicenter of the action.

The story is told through archival footage, much of it never before seen, which is intercut with the vivid recollections and incisive reflections of a wide cast of characters. Along with King and Taylor, contributors include David Crosby, Roger McGuinn, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, Chris Darrow, Kris Kristofferson, J.D. Souther, and Elton John; Taylor’s former manager and producer, music impresario Peter Asher; the one-time head of Ode Records and producer of King’s Tapestry, Lou Adler; musicians Russ Kunkel, Leland Sklar, Craig Doerge and Danny “Kootch” Kortchmar (Taylor’s childhood friend and King’s bandmate in The City); songwriters Barry Mann, Cynthia Weil and (King collaborator) Toni Stern; rock critics Robert Hilburn (who covered the scene as Los Angeles Times’ pop music critic); Barney Hoskyns (author of the So Cal music histories Waiting for the Sun and Hotel California) and Robert Christgau; Troubadour denizens Cheech & Chong and Steve Martin; photographer/musician Henry Diltz; and King’s daughter Sherry Goffin Kondor.

All of the above listed artists contributed to my life's soundtrack during my salad days, otherwise known as the best bits.  Let's be a little more precise:  I'm talking about a roughly ten year time frame, between 1966 and 1976... or when I was 21 to 31.  There are a multitude of reasons why that era was arguably best... both SN1 and SN2 were born in that time, I went through my second childhood (a premature mid-life crisis, to use another hackneyed phrase), met The Second Mrs. Pennington and fell in love, ran around the Pacific Rim for an extended period of time, and enjoyed all the things a married young man who metastasized into a footloose nutcase could possibly enjoy, including quite a few things I shouldn't have enjoyed if I'd been in my right mind.  But it sure as hell was the best of times... not just for me, but for pretty much an entire generation of Americans.

Speaking of the "best of times," there was one short anecdote... mebbe a minute total, prolly less... where David Crosby was describing life in the Laurel Canyon set.  He said something to the effect of...

"And the sex.  There was a LOT of that.  There was also this small window of time (he holds his hands about a foot apart to illustrate) between The Pill and AIDS when it was all fun and games, and it was good.  (He pauses for about three beats here and looks directly into the camera)  I need to emphasize that.  It was GOOD."

You had to be there when that window was open, Gentle Reader, to appreciate exactly what Crosby is on about.  And I thank my lucky stars I was.  There.  But that was only part of it, of course, even though it was a very LARGE part.  See: footloose nutcase, above.  And here, too.

The show runs again tomorrow night on my PBS station (and prolly yours, too) and I plan to watch it again.  You can also watch it in its entirety on-line, if'n you have a mind to do that.  The music and the story are both excellent, especially if you happened to be there at the time.  Recommended.

―:☺:―

In news of the trivial and mundane... we reduced the size of our Amazon wish list by a lil bit this morning by ordering a Ray LaMontagne CD ("Till the Sun Turns Black"), a Johnny Winter CD ("Progressive Blues Experiment"), and that Gregg Allman album we've talked about recently ("Low Country Blues").  I also ordered a spiffy lil tool for my key ring so I'll never ever, ever again get caught away from home without a beer bottle opener.  That happened to me during our recent cold weather exile to the Holiday Inn Express, and even though the front desk had an opener I could borrow they might not o' had.  Just a lil sumthin' I'll never worry about again.

Hey!  I told ya it was trivial and mundane, dint I?