Who Knows Where The Time Goes
By David Steffen
The ability to travel in time has been a fanciful desire for centuries. While no one has yet—as far as we know—traveled to some point in the past or the future, the idea remains compelling, or at least fanciful. Go back in time one day, place a bet on an NFL game or a horserace, or buy a stock. In each case you return to your ‘time' with the knowledge that your team will beat the spread, your horse will cross the finish line first, or your stock will go through the roof. Until (or if) we do achieve the gift (or curse) of time travel, we can generally journey only backward in time, and that’s through the memories, the touchstones of our lives.
As I’ve grown older—you know, older than I was yesterday, I continue to have music as a central part of my life. No, I don’t pick up my Fender Telecaster as much as I used to, I sold the piano years ago, and singing around the house, or singing while driving or walking along Ocean Ridge Drive seems like an intrusion on others. Nevertheless, songs are constantly buzzing through my brain.
Anyway, I was listening to some music from my iPod . . . . you know, that state of the art iPod I bought in 2009? A random voice and song came into my ears and there I was, singing along. Actually, whisper-singing along so as not to frighten the cat or the publisher of this august monthly newspaper. The song I heard was written in 1968, and I was familiar with the songwriter but it wasn’t her amazing voice I was hearing. At the time she wrote the song, her appearance—hair, clothes, etc.—suggested she could easily have been born in California and simply walked over to Golden Gate Park for 1967’s Summer of Love.
In reality, though having proven herself as a songwriter, she continued to appear as part of other groups, and I knew the music simply because I had been playing records by those groups as part of my student job at the college radio station: WUWM. She sang with Fairport Convention and the Strawbs and that’s how I first heard Sandy Denny’s voice.
Some years later, after my initial college adventure was “concluded”, my career and life changed. In 1972 I began working for A&M Records, and one of the albums I promoted was a new release titled, simply, “Sandy.” This album (her second solo recording) connected with me on so many levels. In short, the album is wonderful. The song selection was almost all Denny’s. Complimenting her amazing voice was a production that ranged from simple to complex, and all marvelous thanks to producer (and her love-interest at the time) Trevor George Lucas. The supporting cast of musicians included Lucas, Richard Thompson, Sneaky Pete Kleinow, Linda Thompson, Allen Toussaint and others. And then there was the packaging.
The cover photograph for “Sandy” was taken by British photographer David Bailey. He framed Denny’s face beautifully, taking advantage of a pose with her eyes looking slightly upward and distant. The cut of her black v-neck dress—or was it a sweater?—suggested “style”, and her hair was beautifully accented with a bit of “wind”. Together, here was a highly respected artist, with a young couture look, and a solid collection of tracks on a new, and eponymously titled solo recording. The planets seemed to be lining up for her as this singer-songwriter was arriving right on time for FM radio, with a talent and style that was pitch-perfect. Yet her reported demons may have very well won the day. Alexandra Elene MacLean Lucas, Sandy Denny, died six years later in 1978 at age 31.
Of Denny's recorded tracks I have personal favorites. “It’ll Take A Long Long Time” is a song that is both introspective and soul-baring. “Listen Listen” is my favorite track. Once again, it’s personal and highly visual. Like “It’ll Take A Long Long Time”, her voice evokes her Scottish roots, and her lyrics paint a story in song. There are other tracks from “Sandy”, but I’d be remiss if I also didn't mention “Tommy”. When Lou Reizner produced his orchestral version of The Who’s rock opera, that album also fell into my hands as A&M distributed Ode Records, the American label releasing Reizner’s production. There is a 23-second vocal track by Denny. She sings “It’s a boy, Mrs. Walker it’s a boy, It’s a boy, Mrs. Walker it’s a boy”. That’s it. That’s all she sings. Yet Denny’s mini-performance was larger than its 23 seconds. Her delivery is pure and clear. When a clip that short is a standout performance in an album with 25 tracks, and she’s among other vocalists including Roger Daltrey, Ringo Starr, Merry Clayton, Pete Townshend, Maggie Bell, Rod Stewart and more, it speaks volumes. Sandy’s A&M album holds up well these 50 years later.
While running BMG Video in the early 1990s, I had a chance meeting with another folk icon. I stepped into an elevator and found myself with three other people, one of whom was Judy Collins. At that time she would have been in her fifties. What followed was one of those “elevator moments”. Recognizing her, and in the silence of the ride down a dozen floors, I offered a simple “Good afternoon.” She turned—clearly not knowing who I was, smiled and replied “Hello”. That was that. The doors opened into the lobby, Judy left with her handlers, and I headed for the train to Connecticut.
Over the years I’ve listened to many albums by Collins. Most think of her as the folksinger who caught a hit with “Both Sides Now,” her cover version of Joni Mitchell’s “Clouds”. That recording catapulted her to a much wider audience and considerably more sales, and Collins has remained a favorite all these years. While I also love one of her later recordings—“Send in the Clowns”, her recordings have been, paraphrasing a Mark James lyric, often on my mind.
A couple of weeks ago (on Monday, September 20, to be precise) Dolly and I drove to Jack London Square in Oakland to see Judy Collins perform at Yoshi’s. When she stepped onto the stage at 8:00pm, the seemingly sold-out audience began a trip down memory lane. For 75 minutes she did exactly what we wanted her to do. She sang, and she talked about many of the songwriters whose works she recorded over the years. There were little anecdotes about her time with Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen, Stephen Stills and others. At some point, perhaps 20 minutes into her set, she talked about “Who Knows Where The Time Goes.” She gave Sandy Denny the writing credit, spoke a bit about hearing the song and wanting to record it which she did in 1968. Also on that album was Ian Tyson’s “Someday Soon” and Collins’ own classic, autobiographical song, “My Father”.
It was a delightful evening. Judy Collins was personable. And she made the evening personal for everyone in the room. And contrary to some filmed performances of Judy Collins I’d seen over the years, her pitch seemed perfect. Yes, it was a bit of a trip down memory lane but, isn’t that what memories are for? After all, who knows where the time goes?
Images:
Top: Sandy Denny. Middle: "Sandy" album cover. Original image by David Bailey. Bottom: Judy Collins at Yoshi's, 9/20/2021..
