The Sound of Philadelphia

This blog isn't about the song, TSOP, by MFSB, the Philadelphia International Records hit that became the theme song for Soul Train.
The original scope encompassed the rich musical history of the City of Brotherly Love. However that story proved too vast for a simple musing. So rather than an in-depth study of the many facets of the city's sound, I settled on three characters who represent to me the eclectic, exciting energy of the Philly music scene.  

 An unknown star in the city's musical constellation is Dennis Sandole. A guitarist, pianist and composition wizard, he did musical arrangements for MGM studios in Hollywood during the 30s and 40s. Moving back to South Philly in the late 40s, he taught theory and composition to such jazz luminaries as John Coltrane, Stanley Clarke and Michael Brecker. Dennis had the allure of an absent-minded professor, albeit one who enjoyed more liquor than was good for him.

I met Sandole in the 1970. He was teaching a friend of mine, Pat Mahon. Pat was in high school, but a guitar prodigy. He urged Pat to get a better guitar, and took him on a tour of Philadelphia pawn shops. The result was the 1957 Gibson ES-175 which I now own.

Through Sandole, I became aware of Rufus Harley. The southern exodus of the 40's brought Rufus and his family to North Philadelphia. He studied music taking up the sax and trumpet. Harley became fascinated with the bag pipes watching the Black Watch perform in JFK's funeral procession. He combed pawn shops until he found a set and taught himself how to play. 

In the 80s, I saw him several times at a little club in Cape May, NJ called The Shire. The first time I met him, we literally bumped into each other at the bar. I introduced myself and told him that Dennis Sandole turned me on to his music. A gracious gentleman, he sat with me during a break talking about music and Philly. He never failed to stop and say hello each time I saw him.

My favorite story of his was about living in the Germantown section of town working on his bagpipe riffs late into the evening. Inevitably, someone called the cops. Rufus saw them coming and hid his instrument in the closet. The police asked if he'd been playing the bagpipes. He looked at them innocently and asked, "Do I look Irish to you?" They left.  I still remember his sheepish grin while telling that story.

Walking up 9th street through the Italian Market you'll
find an unassuming bookstore. On the outside wall is a small plaque commemorating local punk music legend, Mikey Wild.

He performed solo and fronted the bands, Hard Ons and The Magic Lantern. His songs included I Was A Punk Before You Were A Punk, Punk and  I Hate New York.  Branded mentally handicapped as a child, Wild became an icon in Philadelphia's underground music scene. You could find him hanging out on South Street or 9th Street selling his art and cassettes of his music. The cost varied from $2 to $5 to a slice of pizza.

These unique individuals are no longer with us. Their stories illustrate Philadelphia's fertile musical soil that nurtures unique talent. As ever - BB


"We're going hoppin'We're going hoppin' today/Where things are poppin/The Philadelphia way/We're gonna drop in/On all the music they play on the bandstand, bandstand" - Bandstand Boogie music 1954 by Les Elgart, lyrics 1975 by Barry Manilow

Day For A Daydream

While this blog has nothing to do with the Lovin' Spoonful, I cannot resist a musical trivia interlude. Riding high in popularity after several big hits, this jug band turned rock & roll superstars fell from counterculture grace in May 1966. Their Canadian guitar player was busted for pot outside of San Francisco. The police threatened to pull his green card. The record company applied pressure and he "dropped a dime" on his dealer. The underground press had a field day defiling them. I have read that this led to the group's demise. In reality, a change in the generation's musical taste and style was more to blame than that incident.

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog:
The intelligence and popularity of Albert Einstein transformed his last name into a synonym for genius. I have read much on Einstein, but recently focused on his proclivity for thought experiments. He would become fixated on an object or action triggering contemplation of mathematical equations. His theory of relativity which led to the space time continuum, began as a thought experiment riding on a bus watching the town clock recede in the distance.

 The phrase, thought experiment, struck a chord. As long as I remember, I have been an inveterate daydreamer. So, a daydream of space time dilation being relative to the velocity of the observer graduates to the prestige of a thought experiment. But, zoning out during Father Louis' Latin class thinking of battling evil forces on some faraway planet is absentminded woolgathering.  An elitist point of view n'est-ce pas?

Ever a language sleuth, I investigated this troubling term. First coined in Germany, Gedenkenexperiment,  is thinking through a hypothesis to a possible conclusion. It postulates a theory. Actual experimentation is required to make it a certainty. 

Einstein's bus ride, Newton's falling apple, Galileo's balls, (two things: 1- get your mind out of the gutter, 2 - despite popular belief, his dropping balls from the Leaning Tower was a thought experiment, not a physical one) all musings that reshaped our knowledge of the physical world in which we live. 

Somehow my musings have never succeeded to such stature. Who knows, in the future one of my daydreams will transform into the more grandiose status of thought experiment. Maybe the one in which I become an actual contributing member of the society transcending the world's petty problems generating peace and understanding among all peoples. Nah, make it the one where I ride a triceratops across the plains of Alpha Centauri leading an army of  minions against the forces of my arch enemy. As ever - BB

"I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering." - Steven Wright