Author Archives: Jon Sidel

Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

We are the leaders of tomorrow. / We are the ones to have the fun. / We want control. We want the power. / Not gonna stop until it comes.

We are not Jesus Christ. / We are not fascist pigs. / We are not capitalist industrialists. / We are not communists. / We are the one.

The expression “too cool for school” is bang on for us Sidels. This week my former classmates are having a get together on the upper west side of NYC. Over the past few weeks a chat thread has emerged, 50+ classmates strong. It’s a cocktail hour for the class of 1980. It was great to see so many names; many of us have been in touch. Most are parents. I reached out to Tom Nagorski. We were co-captains of the basketball team and it was fun trading photos. Too my joy, big Tom still hoops it up.

With this “class reunion” mix I want to send my love and positive vibes to all my life long school day pals. All said, mine is “the class of 77.” It’s the year punk broke and changed my world. My reunion took place over the last few nights digging through my old 45 collection. Listening to punk records from the late ’70s makes me happy. So I’m just gonna listen over and over and remember so many “heroes!”

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

All of my dreams, they fall and form a bridge / Of memories where I can’t get back / All of my dreams, they fall and form a bridge / Of memories where I can’t get back / To you, you

What if our hard work ends in despair? / What if the road won’t take me there? / Oh, I wish, for once, we could stay gold / What if to love and be loved is not enough? / What if I fall and can’t bear to get up? / Oh, I wish, for once, we could stay gold / We could stay gold

Could stay gold / Stay gold

Post Easter egg hunting found my son Jonah and I watching Francis Ford Coppola’s flick The Outsiders. In truth, young dude was too lazy to read the novel cover to cover during spring break. All said, both father and son were moved by S.E. Hinton’s tale of Greasers vs. Socs and the dreamy trio of Ponyboy, Dallas, and Johnny Cade.

Digging through my record collection, it was no surprise that Robert Frost’s poem and this tale of two sides of the railroad tracks that “stay gold” could seep into the subconscious of many of my favorite songwriters.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

I’m all lost in the supermarket / I can no longer shop happily / I came in here for a special offer / A guaranteed personality

I’m all tuned in, I see all the programs / I save coupons from packets of tea / I’ve got my giant hit discotheque album / I empty a bottle, I feel a bit free

The kids in the halls and the pipes in the walls / Make me noises for company / Long distance callers make long distance calls / And the silence makes me lonely

Good Friday in the canyon. It’s mind bending that we’re in mid-April. I’m still re-upping on my 2022 resolution to look at the “half a cup” as full.

Indeed it does feel like warm sunny days lay ahead. Baseball season started and LA has Freddie Freeman. For those not familiar, Freddis is the star who always has a small and a kind word for any base-runner who makes it to first.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

I could have loved you, girl, like a planet / I could have chained your heart to a star / But it really doesn’t matter at all / No it really doesn’t matter at all / Life’s a gas

I could have built a house on the ocean / I could have placed our love in the sky / But it really doesn’t matter at all / No it really doesn’t matter at all / Life’s a gas

I could have turned you into a priestess / I could have burned your fate in the sand / But it really doesn’t matter at all / No it really doesn’t matter at all / Life’s a gas

But it really doesn’t matter at all / No it really doesn’t matter at all / Life’s a gas / I hope it’s going to last

Yesterday was April 7th. My dad would have been 88. Now, a day later, I feel much the same as the last time I saw him, speechless.

All I can write is that a couple of weeks ago I heard his voice in a dream. I woke up and wondered if his voice would remain with me—the thought that has been with me since that night. I would say my dad was really never a big music fan. I didn’t really plan this playlist of songs with him in mind but when I sat and reflected on my dad’s huge New York City life, the T. Rex song above did feel appropriate.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

I pity the country / I pity the state / And the mind of a man / Who thrives on hate / Small are the lives / Of cheats and of liars / Of Bigoted newspress / Fascist town criers / Deception annoys me / Deception destroys me / The Bill of rights throws me / Jails they all know me / Frustrated are churchmen / The saving-of-soul men / The Tinker the tailor / The Colonial governor / They pull and they paw me / They’re seeking to draw me / Away from the roundness
of the life /

A friend and co-collaborator just texted me: “It’s the little victories.” Oh my god, so true!

This morning I woke up a touch frantic, not really sure if spring break just ended or is about to start. I’m open to the possibility that winter is over, or maybe it’s Groundhog Day? Was is just St. Patrick’s Day? It seems like I saw ugly people in green roaming the Strand shit-faced weekends back.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

She says, baby everything is alright, uptight, out of sight / Baby, everything is alright, uptight, clean out of sight

She’s a pearl of a girl, I guess that’s what you might say / I guess her folks brought her up that way / The right side of the tracks, she was born and raised / In a great big old house, full of butlers and maids / She says no one is better than I, I know I’m just an average guy

No football hero or smooth Don Juan / Got empty pockets, you see I’m a poor man’s son / Can’t give her the things that money can’t buy / But I’ll never, never make my baby cry / And it’s all right, what I can’t do / Out of sight because my heart is true

Stevie Wonder’s “Up Tight” has always signified unrest. The first notes bring back childhood memories of ’60s and ’70s New York City driving through Harlem in my parents car, eventually playing football in Franklin Park, the only white kid on the East Harlem Chargers. I never thought of myself as a tough guy or was much for fighting, but I smoked some of my first joints in Central Park with Vietnam vets.

Something about those shell-shocked Nam vets. I guess they felt more comfortable hanging with hippie kids. Many still whore their army jackets. Some had an unforgettable distant look in their steely eyes. There were those too who came undone on the basketball court. We knew on those occasions to stand back and keep our mouths shut.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Winters going / And the leaves turn green / I remember times / That we have seen

I cannot rid myself / Of old memories / Winter’s going / And the leaves turn green

Young woman crying / In the soft spring light / Pain in her body / Makes her weep for the night

Flowers around her / Can’t bring her delight / Young woman crying / In the soft spring light

Summer will come / And where will i hide? / Summer will come / And where will i hide?

I went to a club to see a band last night. Watched a young band and afterwards hung out with new friends. They were smoking cigarettes and I was telling stories about bar days and partying with rockstar friends.

Is this where we are? In some ways covid and the internet have leveled the playing field. All or none of us are rockstars, and a rockstar is all I ever wanted to be. Well, maybe a pro basketball player in the early ’90s Haha!

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Life is a wheel that drives me mad / Trying to find my way / Life is a wheel don’t know where I’m bound / Sometimes I’ve had to say

Where can I hide / Where can I hide / Where can I hide / When so many times I’ve failed

Growing up Jewish, an offspring of the “old country,” and a touch privileged in New York City, I have eaten at the The Russian Tea Room many times. It was often said often said that the Tea Room’s Chicken Kiev was better than the best in Kiev. The Tea Room was simply one my favorite fancy restaurants growing up. After my high school graduation, the Sidels dined there for lunch. I have never been to Russia or Kiev. From the look of things, I likely never will?

On occasion I do pop by Grandma’s Russian Deli in Studio City for the most authentic and excellent borscht and chicken. Borscht is a winter routine I developed at Teresa’s in New York’s lower east side. The day I stumbled into Grandma’s, the woman who runs the spot was very flirty and intrigued. She took no time in talking to me in her tongue, curious about my heritage and delighted by my request for black bread and a greasy patio pastry to go with my soup.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

I’m going to send myself an invitation / Say hello to the video life / Meet myself on the action replay / Hope I get there right on time

Video life / Repeat / In remote control / Video life / Starts right here / Tune in / Make the image clear / All right

Last night I made my first post to TikTok. I know, I know. It sounds desperate and ridiculous but I am in the music business and @huxlxy, an artist I work with out of London, inspired me to do so.

My guy told me the algorithm was smart and I should follow, post and share, see what happens. For the past couple of years I’ve eyed my son’s TikTok feed. Kids dancing, being dumb or delinquent. A world gone mad where stupider than stupid shit rules the day.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

The formless matters of the brain / Inequality of the drifting chain / A moment I could learn to love / The salutations to the levels above / We’ll split the difference, call it quits / This is no new romantic blitz-krieg / Pull off the foil and watch it break / A whisper’s crushing all the sympathy gates / A Love to tear you off

For years now, I’ve been writing a paragraph to intro The Idelic Hour. By Fridays I often don’t have much to say. I’ve been reading a bit about “online burnout.” I gather it’s fatigue and stress due to a prolonged use of technology. I Googled the condition and here are some of the symptoms:

1. Can’t get excited about work 2. Stopped putting in the effort 3. Performance is suffering 4. Exhausted 5. Dealing with physical ailments.

Hmmm? By Friday I’m tired, but I think I’m just getting old?

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Well, you finally find your helpless mind, / Is trapped inside your skin. / You want to leave, / But you believe you won’t get back again. / You only know, / You have to go but still you can’t get out. / You try and try, / You die and die. / You’re stopped by your own doubt. / Reverberation

Fuck me, I tried hard this week. At work, and at putting together this week’s Idelic Hour set. The more I sat at my desk the more I needed an hour of music that would put a shit eating grin on my face.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve left my garage office since Monday morning. Stuff in my world is busy and has looked complicated at face value. With inflation, the bill-man and taxman breathing down my neck, I just stayed at my desk and dug in, all the while, digging through crates of records obsessed to find the most obscure shit I could piece together.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

In my soul / My blood and my bones / I have wrapped your cold bodies around me / The face on you / The smell of you / Will always be with me

Each of these my three babies / I was not willing to leave / Though I tried, I blasphemed and denied / I know they will be returned to me

Each of these my babies / Have brought you closer to me / No longer mad like a horse / I’m still wild but not lost / From the thing that I’ve chosen to be

Thought for today’s Idelic Hour: although this deep winter quarantine that started over the holidays finds us healthy, our mental state is “taxed.” At some points of the day we’re productive and smiling, at other moments we’re like kites on a windy day.

This episode #4 comes at the tail end of a long January. Thanks to my daughter Zoe for being an inspiration and adding once again to this week’s playlist.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

You said, it’s time to get your clothes on / And you said, it’s time to leave the planet / And you said, don’t even bring your wallet / And you said, it’s time to leave the planet

You said that I could bring my guitar / And you said, it’s time to leave the planet / You said that I could bring my guitar / And you said, it’s time to leave the planet

January has always been a tricky month for creating the Idelic Hour. The beginning of the year’s clean slate of music is after all… empty. After a small flurry of early January releases the landscape seems to have chilled.

The arctic breeze going through most backyards has not quite effected ours—sunny, clear, and 72 today. This said, there seems to be a “cold realization” that the winter of 2022 might be harder than we had hoped for. God help us to find coconut coffee cream and to fight inflation.

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Greetings from Laurel Canyon!

Now Alice needed money. I put ten dollars on the breeze.
As the wind died away, she sank way below her knees.
And as a hurricane passed by, she clutched the money from the sky.
She must have been at least a fathom high.
She works the forty second beat, on forty second street,
With all her golden ambitions, and dead rhinestones in her feet.
And when a stranger said she sucked, she just smiled, believing luck,
As she climbed into his truck, to make a buck.
Oh my god, she’s running ’round the trees,
Said she couldn’t touch them because they’re so real.
Alice you remind me of Manhattan;
The seedy and the snaz, the shoeboys and the satins.
Like a throne made of gilt that too many johns have sat in.
Oh, I got my eyes on you.

It’s the second Friday of ’22, and I’m happy to report for the second Friday in a row I awoke with cool vibes and sunny skies.

I was up late last night writing a letter for my son Jonah’s high school application, and of course I was listening to old and new records, reflecting on the past and what lies ahead in 2022.

I’ve declared ’22 that is the year to “GET OVER IT,” and consequently I’m working every day to get over fucking myself. Lol! So when I heard Ronnie Spector passed I looked at the cup half full and I thank my lucky stars to have lived and breathed some of the golden age of rock ‘n’ roll in both New York and LA.

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