With the Grammys approaching next week, and the Oscars not far behind, I think now is a good time for anyone with Jews and Judaism on the brain to watch Echo in the Canyon. At first glance, it might seem odd to portray Jakob Dylan and Andrew Slater’s portrait of WASPy mid-1960s bands in L.A.’s Laurel Canyon, now available on Netflix, as a repository of Torah values. But the Jewishness of the film jumped out at me immediately, and not only on account of the presence of Dylan. The film’s soul could not be more Jewish. It foregrounds the tenderness inherent when the older generation hands down traditions to the young, and the affection and good humor with which the next generation receives them.
Jakob Dylan does one-on-one interviews with the brightest stars from the brief California-sound era (1965 to 1967) as they recall their youth, telling stories, relating feelings, impressions, enthusiasms. These megastar singer-songwriters (Stephen Stills, Eric Clapton, Brian Wilson, Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Michelle Phillips from The Mamas and the Papas), together with a host of other musical notables, lived in houses throughout Laurel Canyon, coalescing into a rock ’n’ roll commune of sorts. The Canyon scene roiled with creativity during this brief era; these artists took the British Invasion and rapidly transmuted it, via a kind of musical fission, into psychedelic rock.
The interviews are poignant because these powerhouse folkies are now decidedly elderly. Once great blazing matriarchs and patriarchs, they have faded and become frail. When they tell Dylan tales from the ancient heyday of their artistic ferment, they evoke something that is lost to us today, dreamlike.
Watching this film we are invited to do what we rarely do in American society: really observe old people. These folk-rock gods seem worn out and often a little bit sad; they are legends, but also has-beens. Brian Wilson speaks with only intermittent clarity and mostly avoids eye contact with his interviewer. Stills, once a blond Adonis, falters, words turning mushy in his mouth. Effervescent but gray-haired, Michelle Phillips no longer resembles the mid-’60s heartbreaker she once was. Roger McGuinn dresses stiffly in a sport jacket, hiding behind a fedora. They are ur-grandparents—tired, achingly vulnerable, self-consciously unhip.
It is moving to watch Dylan interviewing these old geezers. He listens appreciatively, silently. He looks steadily into their rheumy eyes.
The beauty in this project comes as these artists open up to Dylan like he was their own child or grandchild, which in some sense he is. Literally no one else could have rounded up this cadre of 1960s superstars and gotten them to reminisce so freely in front of a camera. Rock royalty himself, he connects with them professionally, speaks the lingo, knows their world. But that is not why he succeeds here. More than anything else, he knows how to handle old people.
It is moving to watch Dylan interviewing these old geezers. He doesn’t coddle or flatter, interject, or draw attention to himself. He listens appreciatively, silently. He looks steadily into their rheumy eyes.
One review I read observes of Dylan that he “is there and not there.” In other words, you can’t ignore him because he’s Bob Dylan’s son and also a confident guy, a rock-band frontman. But on camera, he carefully cloaks his glamour and focuses all the attention on his subjects. And it feels natural, homey, familiar. This is how I’ve seen some Jewish children behave with their doddering elders, patiently listening, possibly to a story they have heard many times before. Having not grown up Jewish, I’m reminded of my own Welsh grandmother who lived with us for a time when I was a child and to whom I did not listen as carefully or kindly as I should have; no one ever taught me the value of honoring her.
There’s a touching shot of Stephen Stills exiting a recording session for the soundtrack album. As he walks by, he lovingly cups the side of Dylan’s face in his hand, like old men sometimes do. Another shot that sticks with me is of Dylan intently watching Michelle Phillips’ face as she listens to his cover of “Go Where You Wanna Go.” When she turns to him, delighted, he lights up briefly. “Oh, good. You like it,” he says with Gen-X dryness. But his desire to please her is obvious, like when a grandchild serves Bubbe her own matzo ball soup recipe.
In the album’s songs one senses the musical expression of deep respect for these Grandmamas and Papas. Along with coeval singers Regina Spektor, Norah Jones, Jade Castrinos, Fiona Apple, and Cat Power, whose voices stack amiably on top of his own, Dylan carefully revisits these songs. We hear in the songs’ modern-day recreations fresh commentaries on old texts.
Another rendition I particularly love is “I Just Wasn’t Meant for These Times,” written by Brian Wilson—who has schizoaffective disorder, manic depression, and paranoid schizophrenia, and who doubtless has led a long and tormented emotional life. The lyrics are naked and painful and yet the melody is pure Beach Boys pop. Dylan sings compassionately, but without the suffering that no doubt went into writing it: That element is provided by Neil Young’s spidery harmonies. The two voices together could be a conversation between a living man and an ancestor’s ghost. These new renderings, like midrashim, transform the old songs, offering updated and deeper meaning while changing very little of the original text.
All of this dynamic feels familiar and right to me, as a Jew. We are taught, in our tradition, how to treat our forefathers and foremothers—with respect, and without condescension. These fading days for them are brief and sometimes painful, and we owe them our attention and our care and regard. A good child knows to talk to elders with all the kavod (honor) they deserve and to receive their experience and the work of their hands. In this small documentary and especially in his accompanying album of all-but-forgotten folk-rock melodies, Jakob Dylan demonstrates his understanding of and dedication to those values.
This article originally appeared on tabletmag.com
(4) Faith Schwartz, January 29, 2020 10:24 PM
Ageist reporting
However well-intentiond you meant to be, your reporting on this well-done tribute to these musical icons is condescending and insulting to the musicians Jakob Dylan honors. He is a good interviewer of his subjects. And respectful of their place as musical elders. This film documents a hub of a phenomenal period of musical creativity and cultural contribution by some very "woke" and raw-talented young people that saw us through an extremely tumultuous time.
Let these great artists be their age and be however they feel. They earned it. It is so rude to waste any words to describe anyone's rheumy eyes or mushy words, when these are the bards who shaped a generation's psyche towards the Torah's teachings of loving others and studying war no more.
They show up to the camera unafraid to show their faces. They show us how to live as we age. Honor these "bubbes and zaydes" by choosing better words to describe timeless musicians. You might not think Stephen Stills is still hot, but to 70 year olds who saw him at Woodstock, he will always be so. Same for
Michelle Phillips. Aish editors really should have guided you better.
I appreciate that you appreciate honoring the elderly in the Jewish community. But I think this article could be used in journalism classes to teach avoiding ageist remarks in reporting.
Nancy, July 5, 2020 8:44 PM
To commenter Faith Schwartz
I agree with your assessment 100%. This article was so egregiously ageist. The icons who were profiled deserved MUCH more respect than the author gave them.
(3) Rachel, January 27, 2020 4:16 AM
Respect for elders
While the author says a non-Jewish upbringing caused a lack of respect for grandmother, that was not my experience. I adored all three of my living grandparents. One of my grandpas was deaf, but he would talk to me for hours, telling me about life in early 20th century NYC. When my dad would thank me for spending so much time with his father, I never understood why: I am sure I got more out of it than my grandpa did! In any event, many non-Jews share a deep regard for their elders, and I am disturbed by the suggestion that because this was not the author’s experience, it is the norm among non-Jews.
(2) Chris Davis, January 27, 2020 3:56 AM
Exodus 20:12, Jewish Publication Society
I enjoyed this article. I grew up with almost all of the folks discussed, although I was in my 30s when I first heard Jakob's contributions. Plus I think rock contributed to a form of paganism I find quite disgusting in the current era.
All that being said, the story reminded me of a biblical passage which I glossed over till very, very recently. From Exodus 20:
Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
Amen. Enjoy them and learn from them while they still are on our planet, even if they often drive you crazy.
(1) Deborah A McLaughlin, January 26, 2020 9:55 PM
Frail?
I watched this documentary and those old rockers did not come across to me as "frail"!