Tag Archives: Ken Ober

Rock’s Darkest Day?

July 3rd is the anniversary of the deaths of both Brian Jones and Jim Morrison. Ask rockers about Morrison and you’ll get a highly divided camp; some revere his poetic lyrics and unique artistic expression with The Doors, while others see him as a bloated, self-indulgent hipster who yammered nonsense and called it art. 

I was a Doors fan and still enjoy their music – there are a series of great singles and many of the deeper tracks on the album were pretty fascinating. I thought L.A. Woman was a tremendous album and am saddened that they never got to continue that journey. But the drunken escapades, the supposed incidents of exposure, the pretentiousness of it all…yeah, I could understand someone resisting their work because they can’t get past that. 

But I’ll wrestle you to the mat about Jones

Brian Jones was The Rolling Stones. Without him, there wouldn’t be a band, let alone a Sticky Fingers or an Exile on Main Street or a Let It Bleed. Because it was Jones the blues purist who set the course, charted the direction and marketed the band in the earliest days when everyone else was ready to fold the tent and quit

Mick Jagger would have graduated from the London School of Economics and been a prissy accountant. Charlie Watts would probably have joined a jazz band and would be famous to a whole other audience. Bill Wyman might have lived the suburban life he seemed to be drifting towards, playing in r&b bands on the weekend and still pulling birds half his age. 

And Keith Richards? He probably would have done the same damned thing – overindulge in life’s pleasures and play some of the most timeless riffs man has ever wrangled from an electric guitar. 

I remember being crushed when Jones died. I was just a kid – other iconic deaths like Buddy Holly either predated my awareness or (like Sam Cooke and Otis Redding) involved people I liked but was not fully invested in. But The Rolling Stones were my lifeblood, and this was like losing a brother.

You have to realize that at the time, lines were drawn between Beatles fans and Stones fans; peer pressure said you had to be one or the other, and you’d better choose. All the cute girls chose The Beatles, of course…and that was reason enough for me to side with the Stones

He was the first rock star in my world; looked (at the time) like a golden god, played any instrument you put into his hands, added flavor to Stones singles that other bands would later copy and seemed like the coolest guy on the planet. When I saw the Stones on Ed Sullivan I looked right past Jagger and was mesmerized by him. And I wasn’t the only one…five hundred miles north of my New York City house, Andy and Greg of The Chesterfield Kings were watching the same program and getting their minds blown as well. 

And then he died – murdered, I still believe – and what had been this picture perfect vision of music and peace and utopia started to crumble. Soon it would be Jimi, and Janis and Jimoddly connected…and finally the nail in the coffin,  Altamont

Don’t get me wrong – I love the Mick Taylor era of the band, and although he’s been underutilized in his tenure, Ronnie Wood is one of my all time favorite guitar players. But the London singles the early Stones cut? Pure magic

Listen to the magic!

Had the Stones broken up after Exile, they would have that same unfinished legacy that Buddy Holly, The Beatles and James Dean have – a permanent snapshot of genius in its prime.  No chance to stumble and fall, or go ages between artistic releases, or climb on stage long past their prime and sing about want and boredom and being unsatisfied…right before pocketing millions per gig and taking a private plane home. 

What would Brian Jones have done after he got over the heartbreak of being squeezed out of his own band? I can only wonder. But I can also revel in what he left behind, which is a brilliant anthology of classic music that is as powerful to me now as it was as the impressionable boy with a transistor radio and a dream. 

What a drag...it is getting old.

And Happy Birthday to (among others) Kurtwood Smith, Fontella Bass, Franz Kafka, George Sanders, Dave Barry, and the late, great Ken Ober.

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Blue Monday, or Bad Things in Threes

Another bad run of unfortunate passings. I was really hoping the Ober story was a mistake, as it seemed to be this morning. But then MTV confirmed it.

"It's his basement, it's his rules, it's his game show..."

R.I.P. Ken Ober – I first encountered Ken Ober back in the early days of MTV, when it was actually strange for them to do something that didn’t involve music videos. The game show craze was making a comeback thanks to cable television’s insatiable thirst for content, and this oddball variation on a theme called Remote Control was an early hit for the network. Basically it was a trivia show designed to look like it was hosted in a suburban basement, with three contestants seated in recliners using remote control devices. It wasn’t so much the competition or even the subject matter (answering questions about television and pop culture)  but it was the way they were dismissed off the showwhen they lost that was classic! It also was my first exposure to the great Colin Quinn.


R.I.P. Edward Woodward, the Equalizer –  Thinking back, how odd was it to have a literate vigalante-for-hire show be a success? Then again, a careful look at the programs of the day proves how little we observe about life at the moment we’re wallowing in it. But here was an accredited Shakespearian actor playing a smarter Baretta and championing the underdog. I’m not minimizing Woodward’s massive resume, but Robert McCall struck a chord. Probably the same reason I enjoyed David Morse and Andre Braugher – two of the finest actors walking the planet – on Hack. (Although as far as I know, their characters didn’t purposely kill people. Nor did they have Robert Mitchum (!) step in to cover for them when they were out ill…)

R.I.P. Kevin Knox – I’ll pass this along as a third person reference, since I didn’t know him personally. But I have spoken with a lot of comedians over the years, and there is a fraternal bond for those who deserve it. By all accounts this was a righteous and unselfish guy as well as a good comedian. You learn a lot about people when they are down for the count with their backs against the wall, and apparently Kevin’s battle with cancer just reaffirmed what his friends in Boston and beyond knew all along. And to think of the dozens of times I walked past Dick’s Beantown Comedy Vault at Remington’s, right in the heart of the Emerson College campus, and I never got to see him

Life is short. Savor every moment. Enjoy every sandwich.

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