Richie
Furay is a rock ‘n’ roll pioneer.
The
79-year-old native Ohioan brought his lyrics of love and catchy tunes to
Buffalo Springfield, Poco and the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band through the 1960s and 1970s. More recently, Furay, who will retire from live performances in May as he turns 80, brought them to the
Katharine Hepburn Cultural Center and Museum on October 25.
Furay, a
member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, is one of the godparents of a musical
genre that has always been my favorite.
It was dubbed “country rock” back then.
Buffalo
Springfield was a virtual all-star lineup that included Stephen Stills and Neil
Young before they gave us “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” and “Ohio.” Among its biggest hits was Stills’ protest
song, “For What It’s Worth,” which became an anthem shortly after its release
57 years ago.
Like so
many of the era’s great rock acts, Buffalo Springfield crumbled when the
artists developed conflicting notions about what the future might hold. Furay united with Jim Messina, Rusty Young,
Randy Meisner and George Grantham to form Poco in 1968. Timothy B. Schmidt replaced future Eagle
Meisner and Messina was gone by 1970, but Furay’s lilting voice and the upbeat
nature of his music coursed through the genre.
Furay
left Poco in 1974 to form the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, his sound having
attracted legions of fans. When the
numbers didn’t add up to success, he became drawn to Christianity and became a
pastor in the Denver area. It was his Christian demeanor that was on display
after his stellar performance at The Kate.
The
tradition at The Kate is for artists, if they’re so inclined, to meet and chat
with their fans after the show as they sell their music, shirts, caps and the
like. I’ve had the chance to chat with
many of my favorites and as the show ended, I felt compelled to meet him. After all, his music is part of my life’s
soundtrack.
He
chatted amiably with some folks and made his way toward me. What a time for the cellphone to beep. My son Jason sent me a very ominous text – “Dad,
whatever you do, don’t look at the news.”
I quickly texted back.
“What
happened? Did (Celtics great Jayson)
Tatum get hurt? Is there more Hamas
treachery in Israel?”
He
piqued my curiosity. I had to find out
what happened.
My wife
Lisa and I had just returned from a nice trip to Maine and had only been home
for a few days. The report Jason was
alluding to was the mass murder in Lewiston.
No, please, not in Maine. We went
up there to escape from I-84 road rage and the other grim occurrences that now
happen where too many people live too close together.
Yes, the
report said 22 people had been shot and the gunman was still at-large. A peaceful evening of music was tainted by
the painful reality of 21st century life in our country.
Richie
Furay looked at my reaction to what I had just read and his instinct told him
something was wrong. I held the
cellphone up so he could read it.
A tear
formed in the corner of his eye as he scanned the news. He looked at me and said, “What is wrong with
us?” Richie, I wish I knew. I felt a deeper connection with him as a
contemporary who spent a lifetime singing songs of love. I shoveled out many dollars that I shouldn’t
have spent to have his soothing music in my library.
“Good
Feeling To Know,” which Richie chose not to perform at The Kate, was always a
go-to song when I was feeling down.
“Kind Woman.” “Sit Down I Think I Love You.” “Go And Say Goodbye.” “Pickin’
Up The Pieces.” They were sung with love.
That’s what so many artists in the genre did. Love was the prevailing emotion that occupied
our hearts as we entered the real world, married and had kids. The chance meeting between Richie and I nearly
60 years later showed how the Life Meter has gone from love to hate during our time. That wasn’t how we planned it. We had more faith in humanity that peace
could truly prevail beyond just the music.
I wish I
could present you with a happier ending. Less than two weeks later, Hamas
displayed the barbarity that an idealistic songwriter like Furay could never have
comprehended with its senseless attack on innocent people, most of whom were
enjoying a concert at the time.
Richie
couldn’t understand how that could happen.
Neither can I. Hate, you see, has
dumped love onto the back pages of life.
I’m glad a vestige of the love and innocence we once enjoyed could
return to us, even if only for a fleeting moment.
A Good Feeling to Know
When I need good lovin' I always come home to you. You free my lifetime of the blues.
Yes I got that old time feelin' burnin' deep inside my soul and I'm yours, baby I'm home.
And it's a good feeling to know. It's such a good feeling to know. Oh it's a good feeling to know. Somebody loves you.
Kind Woman
I got a good reason for loving you. It's an old-fashioned sign. I kinda get the feeling like, mmm, you know when I fell in love the first time.
Kind woman, won't you love me tonight. The look in your eyes.
Kind woman, don't leave me lonely tonight. Please say it's alright.