Teh 500 - #96 - Tommy - The Who

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #96

Album Title: Tommy

Artist: The Who

Genre: Rock, Hard Rock, Acoustic Rock, Acoustic Folk, Psychedelic, Art Rock

Recorded: IBC and Morgan Studios, London, England

Released: May, 1969

My age at release: Three

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #190 - dropping 94 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Overture/It's A Boy

There is so much I could write about this amazing record. It is, without a doubt, my favourite from The Who's catalogue. It accompanied me for much of the drive on my first road trip from London to Calgary in 1988. It was also one of the first three CD's I purchased in 1985 when, as an early adopter of this technology, I spent an outrageous sum ($500 ...$1500 adjusted for inflation) on my first CD player. However, if you will indulge me, I'd like to share a lengthy tale. I think the juice is worth the squeeze on this one and I promise to be brief next week.  

The Technics SL-XP7.

In the late 1990s, I became friends with a group of local musicians who also shared a love of hockey. Every Wednesday night, we  would gather at a local rink for an hour of shinny. Post game, we'd head back downtown where some of the players, or a group of our musician friends, would be performing at a local club or bar. It was a unique blend of hockey and music that became one of the highlights of my week.

Farquharson Arena - home of Wednesday night shinny in the '90s.

Late one December, the group's organizer, a talented singer, songwriter and musician named Dave Merritt (well known from the musical projects Adam West and The Golden Seals), arranged a road trip to Toronto. Our mission was to play an exhibition game against a team of hockey-playing musicians from Toronto's Parkdale neighbourhood. Among their ranks was musician and author Dave Bidini of the Rheostatics, at the time one of Canada's most respected alternative rock bands. I had seen the Rheostatics open for The Tragically Hip a few years earlier and had been a fan for several years, so the opportunity to share the ice with Bidini and his teammates was especially exciting.

Four releases from The Golden Seals - Check them out at their website.

Unfortunately, the timing worked against us. The game took place just days after Christmas, and holiday commitments left us scrambling to assemble a full roster. In the end, we managed to bring only nine skaters, including our goaltender, Oscar "Porchee" Macedo. By comparison, our opponents, the Morningstars, rolled onto the ice with a full bench and a noticeably higher skill level.

(Fun Fact: The Morningstars take their name from Dale Morningstar, founding member of The Dinner Is Ruined, an avant-garde rock band active in the ‘90s. Dale also co-founded The Gas Station Recording Studio, which has been called "the hub of the Canadian Indie Rock sound". Morningstar has produced records from well known Canadian artists that include Gord Downie (The Tragically Hip), The Barenaked Ladies, hHead, Thrush Hermits and The Cowboy Junkies.)

Dale Morningstar at the 2025 Toronto Folk Festival.

Despite the odds, we held our own. Much of that was thanks to the aforementioned Oscar Macedo who turned in a remarkable performance between the pipes. When the final buzzer sounded, we had lost just 5-2, a result that felt far more honourable than the circumstances suggested, and we gladly accepted an invitation to join them for beers and burgers, post-skate. I even have a short, grainy video I pieced together shortly after the event. (I used to think it was good footage on my small, '90s computer monitor -- alas, technology proves otherwise).

Team photos, post game, December 1999. Morningstars
at top, our ragtag squad at the bottom.

More importantly, that game served as my introduction to the Hockey Association of the Arts (HAA). The organization brought together musicians, artists, actors, writers, road crew members, and other creative professionals who happened to love hockey as much as their chosen craft. Supported in part by the monthly music and arts magazine Exclaim!, the HAA fostered a community in which creativity and competition coexisted in equal measure.

What began as a post-Christmas road trip eventually opened the door to an annual sojourn, every Easter weekend, to participate in the three-day Exclaim! Hockey Summit of the Arts. My team, The London Fog, even won the B-Division trophy in our first tournament in 2000, defeating the Ottawa Songbird Millionaires 4-3.

The London Fog at our third Summit (2003). I am front row, far right.

Each evening of the tournament, after the hockey playing was done, the teams (numbering more than 20 and from coast-to-coast by 2004) gathered at a Toronto drinking establishment for the Hootennany. Every team was  required to put together a half-hour set of music for the crowd. At first, it was just a big jam. The professional musicians with whom I played let me bring my sax on stage to toot along with them, typically just following the bass line with the four or five notes that I knew worked in key. We performed old rock standards, including Little Richard's Good Golly Ms. Molly, a rockabilly version of Creep by Radiohead, as well as Brand New Cadillac and, of course, London Calling from The Clash.

Some footage from our 2002 tournament we hosted in London is here.

Pucks promoting the 2026 Hockey Summit of the Arts event.

However, as is often the case with creative types, the performances at the Hootenanny became increasingly elaborate with each passing year. What started as a handful of musicians sharing a few songs after hockey gradually evolved into a full-blown spectacle. Teams arrived in costume, complete with entrance music, props and choreographed routines. The bar was being raised every Easter weekend, and we knew it was time for the London Fog to up the ante -- and in 2007, we took our first shot.

Tournament favourites Chart Attack Hack recapture 80s hair metal at the Hootenany.

The good news was that talent was never our problem. Our roster was absolutely stacked with gifted musicians and singers. What we needed was the right idea, something memorable that would entertain the crowd and reflect our team's personality. Several ideas were pitched, and I was thrilled when the group embraced my suggestion to rewrite a selection of songs from Tommy, The Who's legendary rock opera, and transform them into a hockey-themed tribute to our team and the tournament.

The concept gave us another opportunity as well. We wanted to recognize Tom Goodwin, a member of the Morningstars and one of the tireless volunteers who helped organize and coordinate the Hockey Summit of the Arts year after year. Tom was one of those behind-the-scenes people whose efforts made the entire event possible, and weaving him into the performance felt like a fitting thank you. It also helped me craft our closing number. He became the titular "Tommy" in our mini-rock-opera.

Our goalie, and bass player Oscar (r) with Tom Goodwin.

I could hardly believe my good fortune. They had always supported my enthusiastic, though, decidedly average saxophone playing.  By entrusting me to rewrite lyrics to songs from one of rock's most celebrated albums, plus letting me play a little backup guitar, and even sing the final number, I felt like I was attending a rock and roll summer camp.

Performing with The Fog at a 2010 Hootennany. I look
much cooler in stills than I sound live.

Prior to our performance, we took to the ice on Saturday afternoon for a game against the Ottawa team we had defeated six years earlier. Since both teams had already been eliminated from playoff contention, the game was little more than a friendly exhibition.

Ottawa Songbird Millionaires (early 2000s).

Somehow, over a 'few' beers the previous night, my pal, and coach, Steve "Lumpy" Sullivan concocted a scheme to entertain the unsuspecting referees and tournament crowd at the start of the following day’s game. The moment the puck was dropped, every player on both starting lineups would collapse to the ice...as though having been shot. Then, our keeper, Oscar, would skate out of his crease for a breakaway. I think we enjoyed the charade more than the bemused crowd...but we did get some laughs and some cheers.

Wisely, I asked a friend to film the stunt, the video can be seen here.

That night, for our "mini-opera," we performed four songs from the album. We opened exactly as Tommy does, with the Overture and It's a Boy. 

We followed with Drinking Wizards, a parody of one of The Who's biggest hits, Pinball Wizard, featuring Vince Braca on lead vocals.  Oscar then took over singing duties for a comedic version of Uncle Ernie, which we cheekily retitled Stumble About.  We did tend to lean into our tendency to enjoy our share of cocktails on those weekends.

Oscar performing Stumble About at the Hootenanny, the 
"multi-media" presentation behind him.

Finally, we closed with Tommy, Can You Hear Me? and We're Not Gonna Take It, the album's powerful concluding tracks. For the finale, however, we put our own spin on the song's famous refrain, replacing it with the heartfelt message, "We just want to thank you." As the small audience sang along (we were booked early and few people were in attendance), dozens of photos of Tom Goodwin filled the screen, creating a touching tribute made possible by the secret and gracious contributions of his family. I have footage of these performances somewhere, but couldn't track them down for this blog. When I do, I'll post them.

Label from the single, We're Not Gonna Take It.

The Fog played its "last" game in April, 2011. By that point, most of us were  in our late-40s with a few members in their 50s. We still played pick-up hockey in non-competitive beer leagues (much the way the team began), but our days of late-night carousing coupled with multiple competitive hockey games are behind us.

Fittingly, for The Fog’s final game in 2011 we organized a shinny match against friends of the team and played on a Saturday afternoon in London. It didn't feel like "the last game" at the time and, maybe, it won't be. But if it was our swan song, I will take a boatload of memories into hockey retirement. 

A photo from our "last" game. April 23, 2011

Thanks for indulging me with this extra long, nostalgic post. Next week, we'll leave dressing rooms, power chords and rock-operas behind, but dive into a little psychedelia with Miles Davis, as he charts the unknown edges of jazz with his 1970 record, Bitches Brew.

The 500 - #97 - The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan - Bob Dylan

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #97

Album Title: The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan

Artist: Bob Dylan

Genre: Folk, Blues

Recorded: Columbia Studios, New York City, New York, USA

Released: May, 1963

My age at release: Not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #255 - dropping 158 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

I've been thinking lately about the version of myself that exists out in the world. Not the private version that my wife knows, but the public one. The guy who teaches adolescents, writes this blog, posts on social media, and tells stories over beers with friends. The version of me that friends, students, colleagues, and acquaintances encounter most often.

My "go-to" social media pic...which is nearly 10 years old. 
I guess I need an update soon.

Honesty is important to me, but I recognize that public authenticity doesn't always mean presenting every fact with equal weight. Like anyone else, I edit, amplify and omit as needed. I choose which details to highlight and which will fade into the background. I tweak a sentence because it's funnier or more engaging and focuses on the memorable moment instead of the 10 boring minutes that surround it.

The persona is our front-facing self, 
according to Psychologist Carl Jung. 

Even while writing this blog, I'm aware of my internet audience and I select words because I have a good idea who might smile upon reading them. Other thoughts get softened because I try to anticipate their impact.  Am I crossing the boundary between storytelling and falsehood?  The important thing, at least for me, is that the story remains interesting, without being overly embellished.

Whomever you are projecting to, whether blog followers, internet post readers, friends, or co-workers, we are constantly presenting ourselves to the world by various means, such as reputation, personal contact and the written word. We can be dishonest, selective, manipulative or misleading. Regardless, we self-edit, emphasize and shape ourselves into what becomes our public identity.

All this was on my mind as I listened to, and researched the history of, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, the second studio album by Bob Dylan. More than 60 years later, the album remains one of the defining records of early 1960s folk revival, which gave us songs such as Blowin' in the Wind, Girl from North Country and A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall. As I listened, I found myself thinking not just about the music, but about the man behind it.

Dylan, like us all, crafted a public persona of his life. Born Robert Zimmerman in Hibbing, Minnesota, he arrived in New York City in 1961 as a young musician drawn to Greenwich Village and the growing folk scene.

Before long, however, the stories surrounding him began to take on a life of their own. Dylan often hinted at a past that was more mysterious and more romantic than reality. He was portrayed as a drifter, a restless wanderer, and a road-tested troubadour shaped by the highways, freight trains and dusty backroads of America.

The truth was less dramatic. Zimmerman grew up in a middle-class family in northern Minnesota and spent much of his youth listening to records, forming bands, and dreaming of a larger stage. Yet the myth proved far more compelling than the facts.

Dylan's family home in Hibbing, Minnesota. 

In many ways, Bob Dylan became both the storyteller and the story itself. What fascinates me is that he wasn't unique. He was simply doing the thing that we all do...telling stories about ourselves. We all take the raw facts of our lives and arrange them into narratives that help explain who we are. The difference is that Dylan's story became one of the most successful personal myths ever created in the world of entertainment.

Dylan with girlfriend Suze Rotolo preparing for the photograph
that will grace the cover of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.

It wasn't so much lying as it was fabricating layers of romance and adventure to his story. The texture of his contrivance gave his songs extra weight. People weren't just listening to a skinny Jewish kid from a midwestern state who, a few years earlier, was selling tables, chairs and lamps in his dad's furniture store. They were listening to someone who seemed to embody the America he was singing about. In the process, that carefully crafted facade inspired others to chase adventures of their own.

Dylan walking the streets of Greenwich Village - early 1960s.

In a strange bit of timing, I spent last week alternating between repeat listens of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan and podcasts. In one, Club Random, television personality, comedian and political pundit Bill Maher was in conversation with Penn Jillette. 

Jillette is best known for his partnership in the comedy/magic duo Penn & Teller. He is the larger one, who does all the talking in their Vegas show, which has the distinction of being the longest-running act in the history of that star-studded strip in Nevada.

Comedy/Magic Duo Penn & Teller.

Jillette made a memorable point about Bob Dylan's self-created image. Penn claimed many of the stories Dylan told about his early life were exaggerated or invented, particularly the tales about working in carnivals and hopping freight trains. Penn's punchline was that, inspired by Dylan, he actually went out and did those things himself.

"I wanted to be like Bob Dylan. I didn't find out till years later that Bob was lying. When Bob said he worked in the carnival, he was lying. I worked in the carnival. When Bob said he hopped trains, he was lying. I hopped trains."

"If you take the two years of Bob Dylan's life that they talked about in the press releases when his stuff came out, I realized that I lived it, not Bob."

In that sense, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan feels less like a description than a declaration. "Freewheelin'" wasn't necessarily who Robert Zimmerman had been. It was who Bob Dylan intended to become. The album presents a young man stepping into an identity, trying it on, and willing it into existence.

Maybe that's why the album still resonates. Most of us are engaged in the same project. We may not be reinventing ourselves on the smoke-filled stages of Greenwich Village, but we're all constructing identities out of memory, aspiration, and carefully chosen stories. The person we are is "part fact and part narrative". Sometimes the narrative even helps create the fact.

In 2018, I snapped a shot of Jones Street, where
the iconic cover to The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan
was shot. I'm in the right spot, just facing the wrong way.

By the time the world knew Bob Dylan, the character had become inseparable from the man. Perhaps that's because identity isn't something we merely discover. Perhaps it's something we create, one story at a time.

The 500 - #98 - This Year's Model - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #98

Album Title: This Year's Model

Artist: Elvis Costello and The Attractions

Genre: Pop Punk, New Wave, Power Pop, Garage Punk

Recorded: Eden Studios, London, England

Released: March, 1978

My age at release: 12

How familiar was I with it before this week: Somewhat

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #121 - dropping 23 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: This Year's Girl

"I want you." Three simple words. Depending on who's saying them, "I want you" can sound romantic, desperate, manipulative, or terrifying. 

Yet, the words "I want you" echo through the history of popular music. From The Beatles' I Want You (She's So Heavy) in 1969 to Cody Johnson's I Want You in 2026, artists across genres and generations have built entire songs around that declaration. A quick search reveals a surprisingly long list of titles that either use the phrase directly or place it at the heart of the song's message, including four records on The 500

Every week as I work my way through a different record on Rolling Stone Magazine's list of The 500 Greatest Albums, I discover an album with lyrics that feel surprisingly current. This week that album is Elvis Costello's This Year's Model. Released in 1978, it arrived at a fascinating moment in popular music when the anger and urgency of punk began rubbing shoulders with the bright, buoyant pop energy of new wave. As I found out, the debate surrounding its lyrics feels right at home in 2026.

The Attractions (l-r) Steve Nieve, Costello, Bruce Thomas, Pete
Thomas (no relation).

Some critics have argued that Costello's lyrics portray women as little more than prizes, possessions, or objects of male desire. Costello has long pushed back against this premise. Discussing the second album track, This Year's Girl, he argued that the song's real subject is not women themselves but the way men look at them. As he put it: "Everything in the song is about the way men see women and what they desire from them." In Costello's view, the song is less an expression of misogyny than a critique of the unrealistic fantasies and expectations that shape attraction in the first place.

This Year's Girl single release.

Part of the debate may stem from a common assumption that the narrator of a song speaks directly for the songwriter. Yet, as I often share with my middle school students, poets and songwriters, like novelists and playwrights, often write from the perspective of characters whose beliefs and actions they do not personally endorse. Many of the men who populate This Year's Model are insecure, jealous, judgmental, and obsessive. The question listeners have wrestled with for nearly 50 years is whether Costello is giving voice to those attitudes or exposing them. His answer has consistently been the latter.

Poring over the lyrics of This Year's Model, immersed in the album's long history, it was this debate, and Costello's thoughtful response to it, that resonated the most. Modern audiences are still wrestling with many of the same issues from half a century ago. Whether in a 1978 new wave album or the 2025 thriller Obsession, which my wife and I recently watched, we're often drawn to stories that ask uncomfortable questions: Where does affection end and obsession begin? At what point does attraction stop being about another person and start becoming a projection of our own wants, needs, and desires?

Poster for Obsession.

Commentators, such as New York University professor and podcaster Scott Galloway, have pointed to a growing crisis of connection among young men. He has argued that many are dating less, socializing less, and increasingly turning to screens rather than real-world relationships. At the same time, dating apps can create the perception that a small number of highly desirable people receive the majority of attention, leaving others feeling invisible or rejected.  

The Lost Boys Podcast, on which hosts Galloway and Scaramucci
explore practical ways for young men to eschew the rhetoric 
of toxic masculine / Manosphere influencers to build resilience
purpose and success.

Most young men do not respond to the manosphere frustrations in unhealthy ways, of course. But together with the rise of online "incel" communities, force-fed negativism directed at males can, and sometimes does, result in loneliness hardening into resentment, and resentment into distorted views of relationships. In that light, both This Year's Model and Obsession are important cultural commentaries. They remind us that the danger isn't desire itself; it's what happens when another person stops being a person and becomes an object onto which fantasies, expectations and disappointments are projected.

Earlier, I mentioned how three simple words, "I Want You", can mean so many different things. Eight years after This Year's Model,  Costello challenged his listeners to confront toxic romantic fixations with the song I Want You. The track, from his 1986 album Blood and Chocolate dives even deeper, turning a familiar expression of affection into a haunting study of obsession and possessiveness.

Album cover for Blood and Chocolate (1986)

I believe that we need to be mindful of these dark poetic portrayals of obsession, jealousy and misguided desire to illustrate that love is not supposed to consume us. By showing relationships at their most unhealthy and destructive, songs, films and stories can help us appreciate the qualities that make love worth pursuing in the first place: trust, respect, honesty, and genuine connection.

Perhaps the ultimate value of Costello's darkest songs is not that they celebrate undesirable impulses, but that they illuminate them, allowing us to choose something better.