Author Archives: Jon Sidel

Greetings from Laurel Canyon and happy Friday!

Though you may not drive a great big Cadillac / Diamond in the back, sunroof top / Diggin’ the scene / With a gangsta lean / Gangsta whitewalls / TV antennas in the back / You may not have a car at all / But remember brothers and sisters / You can still stand tall / Just be thankful for what you got…

Heading into Thanksgiving week everything is as “fine” as can be in this canyon.

Throughout the decade or so that I’ve been creating the Idelic Hour, the show has been following the new album release cycle for artists and their labels. Now with a singles based streaming paradigm and the pandemic, the landscape of new music is and will be shifting.

Fuck man, gone are the days when I would make the rounds to the 4 or 5 local record shops in my neighborhood to ask when the new Led Zeppelin record would be in. I’m actually very grateful that as a kid in New York City I fully experienced record shopping at its height.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon—happy Friday the 13th!

I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time / Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme / You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me / It’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea / But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie / Your eyes are soft with sorrow / Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

Everything is as fine as it can be here in the canyon. The weather has actually been beautiful, but short days and cold nights. Well, cold by our California standards. Warm blankets have fueled me through dark, dreamy nights.

As for the work week, I surround myself with musicians and those in “the bizz” who would help them. As I started to reach for my record collection and assemble this week’s set, I felt void of inspiration. The only thing I could think about was the lack of motivation Jonah has for his online schooling and homework.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Me, I’m fresh on your pages / Secret thinker sometimes listening aloud / Life lies dumb on its heroes / Wear your wound with honor, make someone proud / Someone like you should not be allowed / To start any fires

Now your smile is spreading thin / Seems you’re trying not to lose / Since I’m not supposed to win / All you’ve got to do is win…

Last night I cut The Idelic Hour, watched the news, and went to bed with Georgia on my mind. As a cool breeze descends on southern California, we’ll be sad to see our Indian summer go. With prospects of a dark and cold winter ahead of us, today holds a ray of hope and sunshine coming from our television sets.

I started digging through crates of records for this week’s Idelic Hour on Wednesday as I woke up and contemplated the state of our country and especially what Stephen Malkmus calls “Middle America.” Our country’s “split” is sobering. Here are some songs that will help ease the nation toward middle ground

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

What amounts to a dream anymore? / A crude device; a veil on our eyes / A simple plan we’d be different from the rest / And never resign to a typical life

Common fears start to multiply / We realize, we’re paralyzed / Where’d it go, all that precious time? / Did we even try to stem the tide?

Before I start I want to let you all know the Sidels are doing just “fine” today. As I mention time and time again, The Idelic Hour is my creative outlet. Collecting, gathering, compiling and listening to these records truly gives me “soul satisfaction,” even in, or may I say especially in light of this horrible Covid/election year. So hear I lay, dumping all my emotions, problems, fears, anxieties and joys while sharing an hour of music with friends.

So with this in 2020 I must point out that tonight is the full moon of Mercury in retrograde on the All Hollow’s Eve. With the election looming on Tuesday there is just a lot of weird shit in the air. No exception here. This week’s events were in fact spooky weird. We had an power outage, computer failure, our dishwasher broke, doors need replacing, and worst of all of our Mercury in retro nightmares came to pass as our son Jonah broke his leg skateboarding Monday afternoon.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Now my hair gets longer as the beat gets stronger / Wanna tell Chuck Berry my news / I get my kicks outta guitar licks / And I’ve sold my steel-toed shoes

As October gives way to shorter and cooler days, old Joe Biden reminded us last night, “It’s gonna be a dark winter.” Mercury is in retrograde and they say it’s an opportune time to “clean your desk.” I’m taking this as a metaphor and taking it to heart.

During Covid I’ve been meditating. During my sessions it’s dawned on me that the time has come to let the past go, and I’m talking all things! As a record collector, it literally pains me to part with any rock ‘n’ roll relic, but this was the week. I parted with my ’59 Les Paul Jr and my well worn pair of 32-year-old custom engineer boots.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

It’s hard to be human / When another’s touch can end your life / What’s real has lost feeling / I miss your kiss our long goodbyes

O’ Earth O’ Earth I return to thee / I return to where my body once lied / O ‘ Earth O ‘Earth I return to thee / I return to where my innocence died

Hard days and dreamy nights as an October Indian summer breeze blows gently through our canyon. Been a fairly distracting week in our house. Keeping up our pad, a kid in middle school, the music buisness, Dodgers win the pennant—and of course the presidential election—all can weigh hard and heavy on a day.

Speaking of a hard day, I TiVo’d and revisited A Hard Day’s Night recently. The movie and charm of The Beatles is pure magic. The film and lead track inspired this playlist of “not so hard, hard” songs. Hope it can get you through your days.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

I’m the man on the mountain, come on up / I’m the plowman in the valley with a face full of mud / Yes, I’m fumbling and I know my car don’t start / Yes, I’m stumbling and I know I play a bad guitar

Give me little drink / From your loving cup / Just one drink and I’ll fall down drunk yeah

Listening back to this week’s Idelic Hour, I’m happy to report that I’m “happy” about something. If it’s the fact that I can make a playlist of very diverse songs and enjoy the listen… well, that’s what I’m gonna put in my “peace-pipe” this week.

I have to tip my hat to Eddie Van Halen and those of you out there who are his fans. In the mid ’70s my dad moved to San Francisco, and in my obsessive search for punk rock I came upon the Mabuhay Gardens in downtown SF. I loved seeing bands like The Nuns, Crime, The Dils and LA’s Weirdos, Zeros, and Berlin Brats.

When I came to LA I went to The Starwood and the scene was magic, but the band, Quiet Riot, although fun, was far from punk. It was there in the parking lot on Santa Monica Boulevard that I was handed a flyer for Van Halen.

There was a real buzz about Van Halen and soon enough there was an album on a record store shelf. I bought it straight off and although I knew it was great, spandex and fast Jackson guitar solos were never for me. This said, I loved seeing David Lee Roth partying at The Zero and a monster area show at the LA Forum.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

If we were just strangers then we would fall in love again / Abandon extreme wealth and casual cruelty / And now I can see why everyone acts weird to me / Abandon extreme wealth and casual cruelty

A ghost that creeps around a crystal surface underground / A light shows flowers crushed inside / At most the blooms get high / And stay there frozen under…

Today I’m feeling like I’m driving deeper into a groundhog hole. I almost can’t believe yesterday was Thursday. This might be the quickest week I’ve ever experienced. Is the planet just starting to spin out of control? Last week I sarcastically mentioned “what’s next?” Today I’d rather not know.

As I try to keep it “real” and in the in moment, my Idelic weekly muse turns to bullies—and the tough guys and dolls who stand up to them.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

And when / I was the line / You were a light / Shining like some planet / You call home

Talking aloud / What’s it about / The ending or beginning of a word

That was with me all along / I let go, you held strong / Are we all not lost in song / Feeding back until we’re found

“What’s going to happen next?” has been a serious question of concern in 2020 (shit taking, con-man, president aside). Dude, thinking ahead to tomorrow has become something that can really suck.

Tuesday I had a blow out on the 134 freeway. I had just enough time to say something to myself like, “Oh shit!, fuck me, fuckkkkkk!” And then… OK what do I do next?

Thank you GOD, Triple AAA, and my man in the tow truck. I was saved from disaster.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

On my own I faced a gang of jeering in strange streets, oh oh / When my nerves were pumping and I / Fought my fear in, I didn’t run / I was not done

I’ve been beat up, I’ve been thrown out / But I’m not down, no, I’m not down / I’ve been shown up, but I’ve grown up / And I’m not down, no, I’m not down

One thing about quarantine, there’s plenty of time for thought. These last couple of weeks we’ve been socked in by smoke and “gloomy environmental prospects.” I’m “new-normally” in our backyard, mediating in my little corner of our grove in the canyon.

Prior to the fires, the coming of September had me thinking of my LA roots. It’s pretty much a mind blower to think I showed in LA forty years ago with a duffle bag of clothes and a surfboard. With school being back in session, I often look at my kid and think back to my arrival in LA, who I was, and the path I’ve traveled to become a Los Angeleno. As I’ve said time and time again, mine has been first and foremost a rock ‘n’ roll journey.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

It’s just a rumor that was spread around town / Somebody said that someone got filled in / For saying that people get killed in / The results of their shipbuilding.

With all the will in the world / Diving for dear life / When we could be diving for pearls.

It’s just a rumor that was spread around town / A telegram for a picture postcard / Within weeks they’ll be reopening the shipyard / And notifying the next of kin / Once again.

It’s all we’re skilled in / We will be shipbuilding.

I believe there’s a certain internal seasonal timeclock one develops as a child. Growing up in New York City, summers were spent in what we “city slickers” called “the country.” Simply put, the country was anywhere outside the sweltering heat and humidity of the city. We were out for July 4th, and on Labor Day afternoon we’d drive back into the city.

With a deep breath I can almost smell Manhattan driving over the Triborough Bridge. In a matter of days we were back in blazers and ties and back in classrooms. There isn’t a Labor Day that my internal clock doesn’t reflect this past change of environments.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Tonight the city is full of morgues / And all the toilets are overflowing / There’s shopping malls coming out of the walls / As we walk out among the manure

That’s why / I pay no mind / I pay no mind / I pay no mind

Give the finger to the rock ‘n’ roll singer / As he’s dancing upon your paycheck / The sales climb high through the garbage-pail sky / Like a giant dildo crushing the sun

That’s why / I pay no mind / Sleep in slime / I just got signed

So get out your lead-pipe pipe dreams / Get out your ten-foot flags / The insects are huge and the poison’s all been used / And the drugs won’t kill your day job honey

That’s why / I pay no mind

Happy Friday to ya. If I was an ostrich I’d surely have my head in the sand. Instead I’m gonna hide behind a stack of mostly old records. As I fumble through a few “crates,” I’m only paying half of mind. My other thoughts dash from late summer childhood memories growing up in NYC and a future that might resemble HBO’s new series Lovecraft Country.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

The piano has been drinking, my necktie is asleep / And the combo went back to new york, the jukebox has to take a leak / And the carpet needs a haircut, and the spotlight looks like a prison break / And the telephone’s out of cigarettes, and the balcony is on the make / And the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking

And the menus are all freezing, and the light man’s blind in one eye / And he can’t see out of the other / And the piano-tuner’s got a hearing aid, and he showed up with his mother

I woke up this morning a touch late, unsure of what I was dreaming about yet strangely optimistic about the day.

Yesterday was the first day of 7th grade for young Jonah. Little does he know, I once owned an after hours club called “7th Grade.” I named it that because it was the year 1974 when my rock ‘n’ roll party started. My school on the upper west side of New York City was 1st–12th—7th was the year you got your “locker” next to the high schoolers. I was unleashed into the wild city and it was so much fucking fun.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

You’re heard enough / Of the blues and stuff / You’re pretty swell now / ‘Cause you’re pretty tough / But I don’t have to tell you / How hard it can be to get by

You never bothered / About anyone else / You’re well educated / With no common sense / But love, that’s one thing / You really need to get by

All your troubles / Come from yourself / Nobody hurts you / They don’t care / Just as long as you show them

I randomly heard this Roxy Music record a few days ago and it’s really stuck in my craw. In my quarantine quest to stay positive, I’m trying my best to have a good day. I started my morning listening to this quickly—my mix of ’70s glam and 2020—and hey, it’s not half bad.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Circles, my head is going round in circles / My mind is caught up in a whirlpool, draggin’ me down

Time will tell if I’ll take the homeward track / The dizziness will make my feet walk back / Walk on back to you

Everything I do, I think of you / No matter how I try, I can’t get by

Circles, leading me back to you / Round and round and round / And round and round / And round and round / And round and round…

The week started on a special day—my son Jonah’s 12th birthday. Quarantine in LA has been tough at times, and watching an eleven year boy trapped in his room by himself all summer stirs a dad’s emotions.

Every now and then we’ve ventured to the beach where “the surf” has been synonymous with freedom. We did our best and organized a few friends for a socially distanced surf session Friday. Jonah had such a groovy time, but Saturday found the two of us depressed with birthday hangovers.

Like Pete Townshend with his mid-sixties angst, my mind was caught up in a whirlpool and dragging me down. I needed to flip the switch to positive. Monday morning I set the alarm for 6am and cruised back to the beach to watch the birthday boy surf a glassy three hour session.

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