Plus ça change…
My mother may opine otherwise, but I have never been one for nostalgia. Recently, however, I paused to reflect upon the events of fifty years ago after reading 1971; Never a Dull Moment (David Hepworth), and watching the brilliant eight-part documentary series 1971; The Year That Music Changed Everything.
The 1960s began as a decade of dreams, buoyed by the election of John F. Kennedy, the youthful optimism of baby boomers, the civil rights movement, and the potential of a lunar landing. Sadly, it ended in a nightmare of nihilism with the assassinations of both Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King in 1968.
That idealism imploded entirely in December of 1969, just months after the wonder of Woodstock, when mayhem took center stage at a Rolling Stones concert in Altamont, California. Elsewhere in the Golden State, the Manson Family murders shocked and shook the foundations of society. The following year saw the breakup of the Beatles, the deaths of both Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, as well as the Kent State killings - immortalized in Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's chilling ode Ohio.
The excesses of the 60s - free love, drugs, festivals, etc. - left an entire generation with a horrible hangover. As 1971 dawned, however, a sonic phoenix would rise from those ashes to repurpose their principles and, in the process, become a defining and watershed moment in the history of music.
Creative explosions by both established acts (Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Leonard Cohen) and emerging performers (Fleetwood Mac, Carly Simon, Stevie Wonder, Nick Drake) were aided by the fresh possibilities of long-play vinyl and FM radio. These revamped formats afforded artists both a better medium to reflect the times, and a better means to betray them.
In February, Carole King released her musical masterpiece Tapestry. Although she was happiest playing the traditional role of mother to her children, King's songs - I Feel the Earth Move, It's Too Late, and A Natural Woman showcased a shift in women's social status. Joni Mitchell's beautiful Blue, released in June, further reflected the rising tides of the feminist movement. Women's Lib activists/authors Gloria Steinem and Germaine Greer were quick to claim and cite both works as inspiration.
Sexual identity also found a vital voice with recordings by newcomers Elton John (February) and David Bowie (December), each of which explored, questioned, and redefined traditional gender roles.
August saw the release of Who's Next, the bold and bombastic 5th studio album from British rockers the Who. The album's lynchpin - Won't Get Fooled Again - spoke to the disappointment of a generation with the lyric “meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” The recording also marked the first use of the synthesizer in mainstream music.
The following month, John Lennon would unveil Imagine, whose anthemic title track remains both immensely popular and pertinent a half-century later.
In November, Sly Stone's There's a Riot Goin' On sounded the bell for Black activism, following-up on equally potent works by Gil Scott Heron and Curtis Mayfield earlier that year. Months prior, history was made when Isaac Hayes won an Academy Award for Best Original Song. Also that year, Aretha Franklin was recording Young, Gifted and Black - a theme that controversial heavyweight boxer Muhammad Ali would riff on repeatedly in 1971, as would Black activist Angela Davis after the murder of writer George Jackson.
Nowhere was the Black American (or human) experience better expressed, however, than with Marvin Gaye's What's Goin' On. Long atop many critic's lists of Greatest Albums of All Time, the soulful and sexy 35-minute recording was both a creative tour-de-force and an artistic trojan horse with its themes of urban unrest, civil disturbance, economic hardship, ecological catastrophe, and the insanity of the Vietnam war.
Like Gaye, Jim Morrison of the Doors never shied from provocation. Weary from the pitfalls of fame, the Lizard King had exiled himself to Paris in 1971, where he died - like Hendrix and Joplin before him - at the age of 27. Although the singer/poet had become disenchanted with the promise of the 60s, he left a timeless literary legacy that is celebrated in a comprehensive new anthology, The Collected Works of Jim Morrison.
As with his peers, Morrison would (unknowingly) set the stage for pro-activism in the years to follow. It is ironic that the DIY ethos of 70s punk rock would find inspiration in the ideals of its hippie cultural counterpart. And while there have certainly been creative conscientious objectors since then - Bruce Springsteen, Peter Gabriel, Sting, Ani DiFranco, Radiohead, and Rage Against the Machine foremost among them - few have had the same lasting impact as their sonic forebearers.
Similarly, Celtic music - once awash in songs of resistance and rebellion - seems to have succumbed to the shrugs of consumer culture. Perhaps only Dublin's U2 continue to fan the flames of critical thinking.
The parallels, and perils, of 1971 and 2021 are staggering; political corruption, cultural division, social injustice, racial and gender inequality, global and homegrown conflict, erosion of economy and ecology, media as propaganda, etc. - all dominate (and some might argue dumbdown) our consciousness and our conscience.
As such, there has never been a time when we have needed art to be an instrument of change more than right now. Thankfully, new technologies allow for more music to be available to more people than ever before. In the heads and hearts and hands of the true and good, that will surely serve us well. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part - or maybe merely a moment of future nostalgia - but my sincerest hope is that 50 years from today young people will look back on 2021 as the year that music changed something.