Sunday morning listening to the first two Santana albums—Santana and Abraxis—and reveling in how utterly fantastic they are. The richness, soul, and the vibrancy still takes my breath away. Mixing for real hi-fi sets and tube amplifiers, not .mp3 players really made a difference. Turn it up loud.
And that Abraxas album cover. I can still get lost in it for hours. The music and the visuals still trigger reactions in the deep folds of my brain tissue that don’t get exercised enough any more. Of course, 40 years ago they probably got exercised a little too much, but hey—I made it.
Santana was released in 1969; Abraxas in 1970. The times were full with possibility, it was just dripping everywhere. We—individually and collectively—could do anything we wanted, having made it through 1968. I don’t know if it’s because I’m older or because of my illness or both, but I don’t get a sense of that utter and total unending possibility any more. It’s just not there. What a special time. The music and the times were different in so many ways.
And here’s a shocker. I’ve archived pretty much every Grateful Dead show, but the only ones on my MacBook Pro’s hard drive are from the 1960s-70s. I didn’t set out to limit what I carry—I just picked my favorites; the ones I remembered the most fondly. Funny how it worked out.
Are there enough of us left to remember? Can we recall it?
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