My parents dug Dick Cavett, or at least I think they did. My dad certainly dressed enough like him - the rayon slacks, horrible monster-size lapel shirts, and maybe they spoke in a similar way too. I know, too, that like Cavett, my dad snuck a joint or two, socially of course. Still, who can really remember much about the 1970's? I remember the little things like the fact that my dad had a mustache and Cavett had silly-ass sideburns. And, Cavett had his mostly excellent The Dick Cavett Show.
There's a lot to enjoy here on the first disc of the Rock Icons series, despite John Lennon's noticeable absence (that disc is set to be released separately, damnit.) Interviewing the rock stars who performed at Woodstock, Cavett's playful acid wit is on full display. First off, Joni Mitchell is unbelievable. Completely sexy too, with her adorable way of being. If you can't see that, you should have your head examined. So good her voice puts tears in my eyes, makes me think of my father and his cranking "Court & Spark" and "Miles of Aisles" when I was a little boy. "Real Good for Free" represents a defining moment of my early adolescence, and hearing it now is still heartwarming and at times, heart-rending. It reminds me of that whole padding around the house in the summertime with the smell of fresh-cut grass in the air thing. The incredible quiet of an ordinary moment on an otherwise indistinguishable day -distinguishable in the end only for its languor and seeming neverendingness. Somebody in Jefferson Airplane laughs as she's playing "Real Good for Free." He ought to have had his teeth kicked-in. He wouldn't know true art if it bit him in his hippie ass.
Then they all sit around bad late 60's furniture (Grace Slick takes a dig at the evils of neoprene - whaaa?) and chew the fat. David Crosby and Stephen Stills come out and talk with Cavett about the groovy happenings at Woodstock. Heavy as a ton, man. Grace Slick seems pretty stoned-out. Slick calls Dick Jim. Jim shoots back "OK, Janis." It's fun stuff. I always hated Grace Slick and thought she must be a terrible person; I mean, anyone responsible for the abortion of taste and decency that is "We Built This City" should take total, unequivocal responsibility for their utter suckdom, forever. But actually they weren't that bad.
Mitchell just sits quietly, well-behaved, at times bemused. "Do any of you have parents?" Cavett playfully asks. We find out Hendrix is sleeping Woodstock off somewhere in a hotel, missing the show. Mitchell sings a capella and the Airplane does their fair-to-middlin' so-called classic "Somebody to Love." I'd recommend scaring up/downloading Agent Orange's much more satisfying punk version of the song.
The vintage Stones footage is hilarious. Jagger resembles nothing so much as a junkie pimp in his white jump-suit with crazy bling around his whiteboy neck. The apricot scarf so legendarily immortalized by Carly Simon is in full regalia as well. Cavett asks Jagger his current weight and he acidly says, "Ten kilos." "Do you read poetry?" is another great question. "No" says Jagger reflexively. "Will you still be doing this when you're sixty?" "Yeah, easily. Marlene Dietrich still does it, and she's more than sixty." And Jagger to Cavett "You've got this mania for talking." Good stuff, man.
The interview with David Bowie is interesting as a novelty but not terribly engaging, though it picks up quite a bit during the second half. The interview with Janis Joplin is also really endearing because of the rapport between she and Cavett. All in all, not a bad way to spend a few hours traveling back in the good old time machine, sans drugs.
