pop schmop

I vaguely remember a long time ago, George Harrison was asked in an interview whether he'd be going along to see Paul McCartney's new band, Wings. He replied something like, Why should I want to see someone pretending to be The Beatles when I've seen The Beatles.

I've just seen some snaps from Glastonbury 2010. Christ, I don't know if the music was worth it but if I'd had to take part in such a grotesque density of human bodies for just a weekend, I'd be shipping myself off immediately to somewhere like the Outer Hebrides for two months of detox. Actually, I've a fair idea the music wasn't worth it. Not for me. It's to do with those words of George Harrison. I did catch a few minutes on telly on several occasions and wondered what the point of pop was now. I was going through a phase of each new artist reminding me of one or several older artists. Now I can't see the wood for the trees. Everything pop suddenly coagulated and the fans bring to mind the Eloi. I felt quite sad for it all but the fans look happy enough, like they don't care. But they should care, shouldn't they? Wasn't that one of its tenets? I'm beginning not to remember...

So, I decided to watch a biopic on Stevie Winwood on BBC iPlayer. I enjoy the intimacy of watching telly on the lappy with headphones. Stevie was remarkably good in his day, I'd completely forgotten that. Apart from the mid-80s bit, I think; I remembered I'd forgotten that for a good reason. I saw Traffic once in London, the three originals - Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and Chris Wood - with a guest bassist. They played for three hours without a break, a fusion of rock, jazz, folk, funk, and much besides. They were exhausting but really, really good. In the documentary, I felt for Stevie musing over an old record sleeve, missing his two dear pals, now both sadly passed away...