Vol. 16 - Concert on the Mount: David Gates and The Beatitudes of Soft Rock

As you know, Halliday and Adolfo were immersed in a project not unlike my own.  In addition to their recorded work, they were always vigilant in their quest to uncover more information about their soft rock heroes.  A legendary concert by David Gates, founding member and creative catalyst of soft rock pillar Bread, is the subject of the following exchange.  Like Dolf, I too have heard stories about this renowned, if obscure, Concert on the Mount.  In separate mid-1990’s interviews for my Soul and Fire fanzine,  Lou Barlow of Sebadoh and Charles Douglas of Vegetarian Meat told me tales that were very similar to the Carlos Santana rendition.   Hopefully, this posting will inspire more to come forward and share what they know!  - ed.

Halliday begins-

Dolf:

I recently stumbled upon an interesting article in a now-defunct fanzine called Rose Petals, Incense and a Kitten, purportedly produced by the Association’s Jim Yester.   The Yester-scribed article chronicled a unique historic event that, in my estimation, rivals Woodstock or Altamont for its cultural significance.  The fact that it has been buried in history, that it was not and has not been the subject of mainstream media, of films and novels, speaks volumes about how undervalued Soft Rock was and continues to be.   Instead of sharing the article, for I hope to see you in a fortnight to conclude the mastering and sequencing of Little Flower, let me try to explain the content to you. 



...for they shall not sweat or chafe in Heaven.

It seems our friend David Gates, riding the success of his single from Neil Simon's Goodbye Girl, delivered an all-acoustic show on the shores of the Sea of Galilee near the Chapel of the Beatitudes.  Not blind to the symbolic setting, of course, he delivers (perhaps tongue in cheek, perhaps not) the Ten Beatitudes of Soft Rock.  His whole demeanor, as described in Yester’s eyewitness report, is Christ-like, perhaps filtered through Jesus Christ Superstar’s ubiquitous influence on Gate’s (and Yester’s) generation—at once godlike and a man of and among his people.  He wore simple robes sans undergarments, which afforded the audience enticing peeks at his impressive physique.   He allowed a beautiful, Israeli backing singer to wash his feet, as well as the feet of several impromptu (?) visitors to the stage who wore nothing but body paint and flowers.  He even passed around free, loose joints, which by all reports seemed to appear in a never-ending tap on the shoulder and two-finger pass from the left.  I am sure you can picture this desert tableau yourself, so I will no longer delay in sharing these blessings with you.

The Ten Beatitudes of Soft Rock:

Blessed are those who laugh to keep from crying, for they pose for compelling album cover photos.

Blessed are the hirsute, for body hair, even back hair, is beautifully human, a link to our shared past.

Blessed are the "blessed", and those who understand that a woman needs foreplay, for their members and patience are both gifts from God; and those who speak humbly but carry a big stick, and who act selflessly in love, are truly blessed in His eyes.

Blessed are the drummers, for they are not all easily replaced dumb ex-jocks.

Blessed are those who sing the names of “Baby” or “Lady” or “Girl” in reference to lovers, for they have extra syllables with which to preserve iambic pentameter.

Blessed are those who mourn lost loves, for they shall be comforted by newer, younger loves and thusly turn tragedy into gold records and easily treatable venereal diseases.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for a spiritual awakening through any and all chemical or natural means necessary, for they shall find and lose their bliss many times over.

Blessed are the clean of criminal record, for it is not easy to avoid the Man's talons, especially while seeking ones bliss.

Blessed are those who dress in suede or leather, who accessorize denim with more denim, for they shall not sweat or chafe in heaven.

Blessed are the peacemakers, those who embrace gentleness and rebuke aggression, for they have capitalized on a creative goldmine and may earn a primetime variety show or guest spot on The Love Boat.

Adolfo responds:

Dear Kevin:

Yes, I had heard of these lost works, but never had an opportunity to gaze upon them. I thank you, friend.  I look forward to our meeting and to the sharing of fine drink and uplifting tales of soft rock’s too brief moment in the desert sun.   

Woodstock or Lake Kineret?

I remember speaking to Carlos Santana sometime ago, and he relayed the story of Gates' odyssey to me. For this is a concert worthy of the lore it has inspired! Carlos recalled arriving to the event via camel with nothing but an satchel, acoustic guitar and several African women he met at a “market” of some sort. Carlos, deeply spiritual at this time, tells of the event with a grand reverence. Carlos gushed over how Gates primped and preened, how his coif was a-flow with golden locks. Robes white as the accompanying women’s teeth. The crowd was torn between those who truly believed and those who were there for said “free loose joints,” but all were converts by daybreak. If only a master recording was made or photos documenting this event surfaced! Oh joy!  The gospel according to Gates.

Halliday replies:

Dolf:



The Devil's Tower for Kevin Halliday?



I woke this morning from a dream and etched the attached image into my nightstand.  My wife was none too happy but, alas, she never stands in the way of art. 

Neighbors may point and laugh at my front porch, which I have turned into a life-sized diorama of Gates and company heating challah over an open fire, but I care not what they say.  Honestly, I feel like Dreyfuss in Close Encounters!  I am compelled to book a Holy Land tour to the shores of Lake Kineret!  Jim Yester’s journalism and your Santana story have bolstered my spirit, and I shall return to our work with renewed vigor. 

Until we meet and embrace, friend.