Breaking reality with too many drugs, a pre-planned hit job,
and authenticity taken too far – the music industry of the 60s was a
symphony of sound and scandal that not even the hippie revolution could tame!
In the 1950s, being an American radio disk jockey was a lucrative career. By slipping
DJs a few extra dollars, record companies could buy airplay and all but ensure that
their artist's song would become a hit – a practice called payola. But in 1960,
Congress declared payola a criminal act. Amidst the chaotic hearings,
two of America's most popular DJs – Dick Clark and Alan Freed – came into question.
"All the money, all the shadiness, all the payola, is to attract the attention of kids like this."
Both Clark and Freed denied ever having accepted under-the-table payments in exchange for radio
play. But everyone was more inclined to believe the more mainstream Clark – despite his having
recently off-loaded several incriminating assets – than the defiant Freed, who popularized the term
"rock 'n' roll" and regularly advocated for Black artists. Clark walked away relatively unscathed,
but Freed was charged with commercial bribery, heavily fined, and fired from his job. He died
virtually penniless of complications related to alcoholism just a few years later in 1965.
In 1955, the song "Black Denim Trousers and Motorcycle Boots" by The Cheers seemed
to predict the early death of actor James Dean in a car accident. It became a hit,
the music industry saw dollar signs, and the teen tragedy song was born.
The popularity of the morbid genre reached an all-time high in the early 1960s. Songs
like The Shangri-Las' "Leader of the Pack" – in which a break-up causes
the singer's rogue boyfriend to die in a motorcycle accident – and both Wayne
Cochran's "Last Kiss" and Jan and Dean's "Dead Man's Curve" – which
depict deadly car accidents – became huge hits with rebellious youth of the time.
The 1960s saw a major cultural shift toward female equality in the bedroom – but it
certainly didn't come easily. The so-called "sexual revolution" kicked off in 1960 when
the then-newly invented birth control pill became more widely available. That same year,
The Shirelles – a Black all-girl group – had a hit with "Will You Love Me Tomorrow." Though seemingly
innocent, lines like "Is this a lasting treasure or just a moment's pleasure?" candidly discuss
female sexuality and casual intimacy, leading many American radio stations to ban the song.
Nonetheless, music continued to fuel the female sexual revolution as the '60s wore on,
with hit songs like Lesley Gore's "You Don't Own Me," Martha & The Vandellas' "Heat Wave"
further establishing young women as free-thinking members of society motivated by their own desires.
Known as the "King of Soul," Sam Cooke popularized R&B and soul music in the 1950s
and early '60s through his accessible hits like "Cupid," "You Send Me," and "(What A) Wonderful
World." By age 33, Cooke had 29 singles in Billboard’s Top 40, and a newly acquired
record label under his belt. But, unfortunately, his career – and his life – ended far too soon.
On December 11, 1964, Cooke checked into a motel in Los Angeles, California with
Elisa Boyer, a young woman he had met that night in Hollywood. A little later,
motel manager Bertha Franklin claimed that she shot Cooke in self defense after he confronted
her while looking for Boyer. Police received two calls about the incident: one from the motel's
owner and another from Boyer, who alleged that she had been kidnapped and assaulted.
Based on these accounts, police deemed Cooke's death a justifiable homicide. But many weren't
convinced. Witnesses suggested that Boyer – who was later convicted of
murdering her boyfriend – may have been robbing Cooke. Meanwhile,
Cooke's family and friends disputed the given versions of events, implying that
his manager – or enemies he made as a civil rights activist – had carried out a murder plot.
As progressive musicians pushed the boundaries of society in the 1960s,
government censors found themselves busier than ever trying to block lyrics with curse words,
overt sexuality, promotion of drug use,
or other scenarios they deemed obscene. And some of those other scenarios were pretty weird.
For instance, considered the condemnation of wholesome songs like Peter, Paul,
and Mary's fantastical "Puff the Magic Dragon" – allegedly an elaborate drug metaphor – and
The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" – deemed blasphemous for merely mentioning God in a
rock song – a bit of a stretch, not to mention the silliness of the FBI investigating The
Kingsmens' "Louie Louie" simply because they couldn't understand the lyrics.
But by far the most extreme example of '60s censorship
came from Brazil. Artists like Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil faced opposition
from the country's military dictatorship, which felt the music promoted anarchy. Both
were imprisoned for months, banned from performing, and later exiled from Brazil.
Formed in Liverpool, England, The Beatles quickly grew to become a worldwide sensation
in the early 1960s. The group's rise to fame was so sudden and intense that singer-guitarist
John Lennon was inspired to comment on it. In a conversational March 4, 1966,
interview with the London Evening Standard, Lennon casually shared his thoughts on religion, saying,
"Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue about that;
I'm right and I will be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now;
I don't know which will go first – rock 'n' roll or Christianity."
The interview ran without incident in England. But his candid musings
quickly evolved into a PR nightmare in America. Religious groups – particularly
fundamentalist Christians – were outraged, boycotting the band, publicly burning records,
and citing Lennon's words as proof that rock music was inherently evil. Eventually, the rage
even inspired death threats and a reluctant Lennon was forced to issue a formal apology.
"I just said what I said, and it was wrong, or was taken wrong, and now it's all this."
Throughout the 1950s, the music industry standard was mass-producing hit songs
using a songwriting team and polished session musicians,
then presenting them to the masses with an attractive pop star figurehead.
That Inspired a backlash, as a desire for authenticity helped spawn the folk
revival movement of the early '60s. It was, at its core, a stripped-down,
acoustic-only opposition to the glitz and glam of the music industry machine. So,
imagine everyone's horror when one of folk's most beloved figures – Bob Dylan – employed the
use of an electric guitar in the summer of 1965. The betrayal audiences felt was so great that,
amidst the nightly sea of "boos," someone was even heard calling Dylan "Judas" at an England show.
"Did you see one paper that said 'everybody walked out?'"
"I haven't seen that before."
"'Everybody walked out.' I saw a paper that said 'everybody walked out!'"
Then came The Monkees. Manufactured in America to capitalize on the popularity of The Beatles,
The Monkees – a fully casted and "made-for-TV" band – were seen by many as the antithesis of
authenticity. They came prepackaged with a television show – which focused mostly on
their banter – and were backed by a prolific songwriting team. Though they later attempted
to reclaim authenticity by writing their own songs, most never viewed them as real artists.
In 1959, Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, and Ritchie Valens died in a plane crash – an event that
became known as "The Day the Music Died." Sadly, it was just the first of many rock tragedies.
On March 5, 1963, country music star Patsy Cline – along with fellow musicians Cowboy Copas and
Hawkshaw Hawkins – were killed in a plane crash. Then, on July 31, 1964, country music lost another
star when Jim Reeves, piloting his own plane, flew through a storm and wrecked near Nashville.
And soul singer-songwriter Otis Redding was at the top of his game when he died
in a plane crash on December 10, 1967. His final song – an unfinished version
of "Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay" – became a massive hit after his death.
Rock gained momentum throughout the '60s, fueled by British bands like The Beatles
and The Rolling Stones as well as American groups like The Beach Boys and The Doors.
There was just one problem: Mainstream rock stars were primarily white men,
even though the music had its roots in Black culture.
How this came to be is a matter of debate. Many argue that the separation began in the '50s,
with music industry executives not wanting to market Black music to white audiences. Others
claim that Black artists segregated themselves by focusing on soul and R&B rather than rock.
Still, artists like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin were
heavily inspired by Black musicians like Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry.
Rock historian Jack Hamilton posits that the exclusion of Black artists from the evolving
genre of rock in the '60s ultimately came down to systemic racism. Throughout the decade,
Jimi Hendrix was the only Black musician able to
successfully break the barrier. Women were similarly excluded from '60s rock,
which frequently objectified them in its lyrics. Janis Joplin was one of the only
women able to transcend this sexist gap and critics often reduced her to a novelty.
While known to most as the leader of a cult that committed several horrific murders,
Charles Manson was first an aspiring musician. After learning the guitar in
prison, he headed west to Los Angeles, California in 1967,
where he befriended the likes of Neil Young and The Beach Boys' drummer Dennis Wilson.
In fact, Manson and Wilson became so close that they lived together and collaborated
on The Beach Boys' 1968 song "Never Learn Not to Love." It was a brief partnership,
with Manson receiving a single payment for his contribution before being sent on his way.
Manson then became enamored with The Beatles' "White Album," listening to the songs obsessively
until he became convinced that its lyrics included hidden messages about a coming
race war. This delusional fixation culminated in the brutal murders of nine people in 1969.
At one of the crime scenes, a Manson follower had even written the name
of a Beatles song – "Helter Skelter" – albeit misspelled – in blood on the refrigerator door.
When Woodstock's promoters were forced to find a new location just weeks before the event,
many basic amenities went by the wayside. Nearly half a million people arrived in rural upstate New
York to find limited bathrooms and inadequate supplies of food and water. What's worse,
thunderstorms and heavy rainfall combined with shoddy electrical wiring and flimsy stage
fixtures created a potentially dangerous situation, not to mention a muddy mess.
Woodstock's organizers were also completely unprepared for the event's high turnout. Roads
were blocked for miles, meaning emergency supplies had to be delivered by air and
many artists were unable to perform because they couldn't get to the location. Hungry
attendees stripped adjacent corn crops, angering the area's farmers. In fact,
the festival was made free simply because the outnumbered staff was unable to check tickets.
While many concertgoers became ill and several overdosed on drugs,
the festival was mostly incident-free – though one person was run over by a tractor and killed.
Despite the ongoing hippie movement, which promoted non-violence,
attending concerts became increasingly hazardous in the 1960s. On March 1, 1967,
Eric Burdon and The Animals refused to perform at a concert in Ottawa,
Canada; irate fans destroyed the stage and set fires, leading to 12 arrests.
Then, on December 9, 1967, a Connecticut Doors concert spiraled out of control.
Frontman Jim Morrison was maced backstage by a police officer. During the show,
he began mocking the police; in response, they jumped on stage and arrested him in the middle
of the concert. The arrest sparked a riot, with 13 more arrests made.
But the decade's worst incident by far took place at the Altamont Free Festival on December 6,
1969. Here’s what we know for sure: members of the Hells Angels motorcycle gang worked security
at the event in exchange for $500 worth of beer. Who exactly hired and paid them is still debated
today – some say it was the Rolling Stones while others say this was all the Grateful
Dead’s doing. Regardless, during Jefferson Airplane's performance, an Angel ended up
knocking out singer Marty Balin during a melee on stage. Things completely went off the rails
during the Rolling Stones set. Mick Jagger begged the crowd to remain calm, and chastised
the Angels for their roughhousing. What happened next is one of the most infamous to occur at any
concert ever. A fan produced a gun and was aiming it either at the stage or in the air – depending
on how you see it. An Angel jumped him and stabbed 18-year old Merdith Hunter to death.
"I can't do any more than to ask you, to beg you, to keep it together."
Throughout the decade, recreational drug use was a part of the rock and roll counterculture.
Hallucinogenic substances like LSD and marijuana were said to expand the mind
and provide a means of understanding the world on a deeper level. They became firmly
entrenched with '60s music, particularly the then-newly formed genre of psychedelic rock.
But such wanton use took its toll. Syd Barrett – the founding member of Pink Floyd – broke from
reality after overusing LSD and became unable to perform. Prolonged use of drugs and alcohol
also claimed the lives of many. Virtuoso guitarist Jimi Hendrix, R&B singer-songwriter Frankie Lymon,
Beatles manager Brian Epstein, and blues singer Janis Joplin were just a few of the '60s music
legends who died of complications related to substance use at startlingly young ages.