Borne Back Ceaselessly into the Past

1999 was 20 years ago. That’s enough for most people.

Sometime during these first few days of January 2019 will be the 50th anniversary of the end of Star Trek. I don’t know why I remember such things, but it does tie in with the holidays in a coincidental way. The first frames of anything Star Trek were shot immediately after Thanksgiving weekend 1964, namely, “The Cage” pilot. On the 9th of this month, it will be one-half century since the last frames of the episode “Turnabout Intruder” were shot, just after the 1968 holiday season. 

Nineteen sixty-nine marked a lot of passages. Star Trek‘s last episode, and then The Beatles. Many consider the last day of the group sometime in 1970, but the first and greatest worldwide supergroup were finished before the fall of that year. On 22 August 1969, six days after wrapping up recording on Abbey Road, they gathered for one last photo shoot on the grounds of John Lennon’s mansion. Everyone looked tired and a little cranky, just going through the motions. You can tell that George, especially, didn’t want to be there.

It seems hard to believe they wouldn’t have gotten together at least once in the next eleven years until John Lennon’s death, but all four were never in the same room again after 22 August 1969. Abbey Road was released on 26 September, and no one knew their favorite band was finished for all time one month ago already.

The Woodstock music festival had happened earlier in August 1969, and while many consider it the high water mark of music festivals in the seriously musically radicalized 1960s, there’s a funny thing about high water marks: you don’t get any higher. I half-wonder if anyone is going to attempt an anniversary festival like the one in 1999 that became known as “Rapestock” and featured such deep acts as Limp Bizkit. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of something like that going on already.

I think back on much of the music and entertainment I like from the 1960s, and it fascinates me how everything went from black-and-white and short hair at the start of the decade to lurid color and respectable normie guys wearing their hair over their ears. (I’m old enough to remember when this was a big deal. Also, wearing denim jeans in school.) The last year of that decade is turning 50. Well, well.

Fifty years ago when I was growing up was the 1910s and 1920s. And with that thought, I’ve got nothing left but the Fitzgerald quote I titled this post with: “So we beat on, boats against the current....”