“[T]he politics of an age affect the artistic productions of the age”

The opposite also applies. To paraphrase Major Jackson’s liner notes to The Roots’ “Do You Want More:” No Coleman Hawkins “Body and Soul,” No “I Have a Dream Today.” Of course, it might take decades to seep through, but the force of the art eventually prevails.

“I suppose I really do think that Ronald Reagan somehow forced Steve Winwood to make ‘Higher Love.’”

Maybe. I see two men, feeling their youthful power erode with the changing times and desperate to maintain their (quasi?-) iconic status, turning to the expert marketers in their respective fields to restore/create their new outward persona of success and relevance.

“I am in a La Quinta in Somerville, MA”

The very one about which a fellow stranded Logan passenger once told me “‘La Quinta’ is Spanish for ‘Next to Denny’s’” (even though that one is not, physically anyways).

Then watching the Super Bowl pre-game show a few days ago, I was bowled over to see Stevie Winwood (looking 97 yrs old) doing this song. I couldn’t bear it…yet I watched every moment intently—-like seeing a really good wipeout at a race track or the “agony of defeat” ski jumper guy from Wide World of Sports. Ouch.

This truly IS a bad song.

But when it comes to getting a dancefloor moving with a contemporaneous white Brit/black American pairing, I’d reckon Phil Collins and Philip Bailey’s Easy Lover is the superior jam.

I’ll try to find Padgett Powell today.

Please take care of yourself there in Iraq.

Though you tried to shelter your brother from the darker influences of Traffic, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin, he drank deeply of the “agape” you were brewing during those lonely suburban afternoons. I can still remember arriving at college and following the sound of an acoustic guitar down a dark dorm hallway, where I found your brother seated on bed, strumming the chords to, as I recall, John Barleycorn Must Die. I believe he was wearing a black leather jacket with preppy plaid shorts, a combination I had never seen. Nor had I seen such hair, which spread out from his head length-wise, like the branches of an acacia. I asked for one of his Marlboros, and thus began my musical education (I was basically a metal head at this point, and still listening to Black Sabbath).

The more we spoke, the more I began to understand that the source of his occult knowledge was his older brother, who he spoke of in whispered tones. After holiday breaks, we would gather in his room to hear the latest thing he had managed to smuggle out of your room—Eno’s Music for Airports, say, or Kate Bush. It all had the feeling of younger brothers spying on their mythical elders, which gave even more of a mystery to this music.

I think it’s time to thank you, a few decades later, for your influence. And for this great essay.

Best

Rick Gray

Sulaimani, Iraq

1) My dad was nuts for that Steve Winwood album – I have vivid memories of driving around listening to it in an Oldsmobile (or was it Buick?) Delta ‘88, his first company car. I’d call him right now to ask why, but it’s late on the east coast, and such a question would probably irritate him in the wrong mood. But, if I may speak for him, I think the album’s very Reaganness was part of its appeal. (In his defense, Back in the High Life was his favorite song.) At that period in his life, he was in his 40s, he had nine kids under the age of 17, he was smack in the midst of the defining years of his career, and he was actually succeeding. Don’t ask me why he and my mom decided to have all those kids, but I think the Reagan years were tremendously empowering for him – he’d gone from being a socially awkward depressive from a working class Catholic family who vehemently protested his insistence on getting an education (and a double master’s degree in literature and theology, no less) to a guy working two and three jobs just to be able to put food on the table to a rising corporate executive with a house in the suburbs, a company car, full health insurance for the family, and a hard won sense that with hard work and determination you could actually make a better life for yourself. (Whether or not that is the case is debatable, I’m aware, but nonetheless, that was his experience, and it was right in line with the Reagan credo.) So this obnoxious, tinny, relentlessly upbeat album must have come at just the time he was finally able to finally look up from the years of struggle and breathe a small sigh of relief. (By the way, this was also the year of Rick Astley, who he also loved and frequently subjected us to. Thankfully for us, he was balancing it out with Graceland and Sam Cooke at the time.)

2. Love your assertion about older sisters being a great way to learn about interesting music in junior high. Luckily I had an older brother who gave me an REM tape in seventh grade, which started me down a path of music discovery that led me to introduce my younger brothers to the likes of the Smiths, the Cure, New Order, the Pixies and others while their friends were listening to DJ Jazzy Jeff and Poison. I’ve often thought it must have made them better people.

I caught Clapton and Winwood on tour in May and was impressed by both of the old maestros. Winwood does play a mean axe, which took many by surprise. I enjoyed your musings on Floyd, perhaps the headiest of the classic stoner rock outfits. Talk about a band with the ability to transport the listener to another place … Regarding you title thread, I think “Higher Love” was one of Winwood’s few commercial hits (“Back in the High Life” included) that despite a high fluff-factor do not entirely besmirch an otherwise excellent track record of one of the champions of blue-eyed soul. Just glad it wasn’t on the set list when I saw him! Here’s to smoking a doob with Jerry.