Children of the Woodstock Age

This is a short chronicle about how my life and songwriting merged to create and record “Children of the Woodstock Age”-the first of three “albums” I will be releasing in 2015.

My father died in December of 2010. It was a total shock to me emotionally. I harbored an ocean sized grief that played into everything in my life. While I wish to avoid many personal topics, I do want to share how losing Dad affected my songwriting.

My first urge was to write about what I was feeling, and to strike while the “iron was hot,” to borrow a phrase. Believe me, I tried. I felt compelled to write the perfect death song. I don’t know how many I tried to write, but maybe as many as ten. I made no progress in my quest. I couldn’t even complete a rough draft, let alone a first version.

There were two songs that came through unscathed by my critical judgment-“Anchor” and “The Hole.” After that, whatever songwriting powers I had borrowed from the local muse, seemed to evaporate into a sea of broken thoughts, and out of focus visions that could not be tamed. Truth be told, it is always a bad idea to suffer a major life loss, then try to tackle a subject as Titanic as death. I could not get myself around it.

I moped and cried, tried to write. I failed. Eventually, though, I started turning out a few new songs and resurrecting old lyrics. I put together a set of songs that I thought might reflect my craft. I shared the results with several different people and got very different, usually contradictory, remarks back in return. I needed to play more guitar because I am a guitarist. I need to become more contemporary in my “sound.” Sound? I never had a sound and never will. I got quite confused trying to put my first face to the world.

Anyway, I threw up both of my hands and released “Life Number Nine,”-a blues album that was already mostly in the can awaiting mastering and sequencing. I finished it up and released it on CD Baby. I actually got some sales—less than platinum but more than none. It was a wonderful process. I loved making a part of my music available to people. It opened up the barriers and made me more willing to continue.

Then, I went through a time where the initial burst of activity slowed and then stopped altogether. I copped a definite ‘tude about the whole write, record, release pattern of music sales-especially in the age of rampant streaming. I faced my muse and said, “I’m done. Songwriting is a senseless and empty passion-especially when nobody hears your songs.”

The Muse must have laughed at me, knowing that there was no real contest-I’d be back. She outlasted my stubborn streak and, next thing I knew, I was creating again. I was sitting on 40 years of material. If it wasn’t perfect, I’d have no problem rewriting or discarding. Then, one night, I stumbled on the title “Children of the Woodstock Age” and I knew I had a focus for a new record. I had a few songs that fit in with that sort of theme. I’d be singing about peace, hope, about the times and about the spirit of the times. I did a full invasion of my personal song library. I found new songs, incomplete songs, song from the 60’s to the present and songs needing big help.

I began assembling these tunes, adding, subtracting, writing anew, revising, etc, until I finally had a collection that formed into the shape I was looking for. Right now, I am gathering multi-track musical performances from some of the musicians and artists that I admire most. The process has been wonderful so far.

On my first solo release, “Life Number Nine,” I played and recorded all the music except for the saxes and one drum track. With “Children of the Woodstock Age,” I wanted to make a record that was shared by many of my musical heroes. I wanted drummers, bass players, singers, guitar players, saxophonists, fiddlers, keyboard players, arrangers and all the creative musicians that I knew. I wanted them all onboard. I was sick of my own limited musical skills—time to ask for the service of the experts! Guess it goes without saying that I am a much better guitarist than a drummer!

My intent, which revolved highly around the song “Children of the Woodstock Age”, was to reminisce about the 60’s—my formative period of youth-and to somehow reconnect with our past values. I wanted to shine a light on the times-for better or for worse. I wanted to put a stamp on the album in terms of a decade, but also, in terms of a generation—and-today- in terms of a lost generation trying to make sense of the present.

I am now 63, soon to turn 64. Since the 60’s were my soil-my place of growth-I do look back on those times from where I stand. Some of the songs harken back to that time, and some just attempt to capture the vibe of the times. But my story is not just for me or my generation. It is especially for the younger generations before me. If I can share, using the wisdom gleaned from my mistakes, then maybe we can make some progress.


As for the new record, it is an amalgamation of thoughts that focuses primarily on the sixties and the cultural ideas that were present at that time. The record includes love songs, just like the 60’s. I included some cultural cliches, a dose of ideals, a bit of regret and remembrance and some modern perspective. Then, my heart slides in for a cameo or two.

I look back. The song “American Dreams” was written in 1972, while I was living in a little studio apartment in Ann Arbor. I rewrote the old chorus to fit the record. “1965” was written circa 1980 as an attempt at some kind of anthem. A few songs just “showed up” when they were needed, and both “I Am Drawn To You” and “Children of the Woodstock Age,” came to me.

“I Am Drawn To You” was written in the ether between 2009 and 2010. The original demo had the wrong feel and did not have the intended spirit. I had relegated it into the “someday” pile, but I began to sing it one day and I really thought the tune was pleasing. I then heard it being played a totally different way. Almost instantly, or so it seemed, the song was transformed into the perfect form. My kids played on the record and it came out nicely.

“Children of the Woodstock Age” was a new song, inspired by some recent topical Seger material. I kinda wished he’d recorded it, but I knew that was not gonna happen. Still, it was the pivotal song—the one that got me thinking about my past, the 60’s in particular and in the long-term values that have sprung from that age.

“Song For The Pure Of Heart” was actually a found lyric in my huge pile of saved lyrics. I pulled it out of the depths and began writing a new tune to the lyrics. The original idea was long forgotten. I was going for a Simon and Garfunkel vibe, but it took on its own life. It seemed like a song just outside the normal parameters of songwriting. I thought that might be a rather good thing.

From that initial creative spark, an explosion of creativity arrived. In my weekly searches, I came up with two more albums worth of material. There was a bit more re-writing, but mostly re-arranging. In establishing distinct categories, I was able to divide my work up into four separate genres-blues, rock, folk and country. What emerged was a project—probably too big to tackle, but worth the journey. I would first finish “Children of the Woodstock Age,” and then go on to finish the “Love Letters” album and my “country” CD. There were almost 40 songs in all. I am still working on all the songs in hopes of releasing all three records in 2015.

“Children of the Woodstock Age, as an album, seeks to share my hope and expectancy of the sixties, while simultaneously injecting my disillusionment into the process. I have also tried to capture a spirit of the times in the musical presentation on the record. It is a set of songs for anybody that grew up with the sixties idealism and that sense of newfound freedom. I call it my “baby boomer” record because it has its roots in the sixties. I think anybody that shared those times will find a bit of themselves in these songs.

So, once again the Muse decided I was taking it too easy. Just when I thought I was through with this crazy game, I am right back at it. As it should be. I think these are among the best records I’ve ever made—especially with all the friends who have contributed to these albums. A certain spirit got me looking back and trying to rekindle my songwriting spirit. Why it began to focus on the sixties is anybody’s guess.

I guess, like so many others, I lived through those times. They were complicated, with many forces unleashed and in flux. They left their own “tracks of their tears” on my own soul.

As a songwriter, one advantage I may have—if I have any at all—is that I have seen life from the junkie bottom to the aristocratic top of this dung pile we call respectable humanity. I’ve seen how many sides live and I have learned to respect all of them. Having hung out at so many social strata has helped me, I think, to try and write more truthfully. Some of the songs have a bit of politics, but I think I have tried to be fair. If I lean in any direction, I’d say it is toward moral ideals that any fair person would give credence to. Contrary to popular misconception, those ideals are still around and being practiced.

Though the seeds of many of these songs may have been blowing in the wind for some time, the catalyst for this record was a trip that I took to Atlanta in September of 2014. I played special reunion gig at a club with my high school rock band-Radar. The reaction to the music (we played 60’s music exclusively) surprised me by its passion. I realized that many of the values I still held were held by others. I was not alone and others had hearts at least as compassionate as mine. The night impinged on my thoughts in many different ways. The concept for “Children of the Woodstock Age” came largely from that night.
When I stepped on the Steve’s Live Music stage, I had no ideas what was about to happen. Being used to the often tentative, to lukewarm, to totally being ignored experiences I had experienced in the Motor City, I was not expecting much at all. Instead, I got back much more than I expected. The crowd was celebrating the 60s music we chose to play. I think they were at least as into it as the RADAR band was!

Then and there I knew—what I had been carrying and feeling for all these years was something that many others also felt and related to. The common thread was the music-and the music was a reflection of the times that we were all living through. Playing those songs in RADAR that night, I was sometimes taken back to those formative years myself. The songs always have that power to take us back through time, to the days, thoughts and emotions that we all lived through.