Even though I am old enough to have remembered the infamous 1969 concert love-in, Woodstock, two things conspired against me: I was living in Europe at the time and I would have been turned away a the gate had I sought admission. I was a little kid although -- as I recently discovered when I came across some photos taken of me back then -- I looked good in my beads, straw hat, and dyed shirt. An opportunity missed, it was.A friend lent me his DVD of Woodstock, the documentary. It's every bit as good as I remember -- even more so due to my advancing age, and the nostalgia which kicks in more and more with each passing year. (Everybody looks so young!)
If I had not gone into blogging as a career, my expertise would undoubtedly be one of social scientist. Outside of the richness of pop music acts, Woodstock is a stamp of the time: Embossed, nailed, and bronzed. While I don't claim to a be a documentarian or archivist of popular music, I do... "reach".
From my admitted distance to pop or rock music, I can still see that the state of affairs today is... well... pretty abysmal.
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