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    The Fiery Sounds of the Monterey International Pop Festival

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    Revisiting the event’s memorable set list, 57 years later.Ravi Shankar onstage at the Monterey International Pop Festival in 1967.Ted Streshinsky/Corbis, via Getty ImagesDear listeners,Fifty-seven years ago today, the Monterey International Pop Festival — the three-day event that arguably invented the modern music festival — concluded in a blaze of glory. That Sunday boasted quite a bill: Ravi Shankar mesmerized the crowd with a set of ragas that lasted more than three hours. The Who obliterated the calm with a proto-punk set which ended when Pete Townshend smashed his guitar. Jimi Hendrix attempted a one-up by lighting his on fire. The headliners the Mamas & the Papas had the unenviable task of following all that.I’ve had Monterey Pop on the brain recently, since last month I published an in-depth piece about the life and legacy of “Mama” Cass Elliot. (I began the essay with a self-deprecating joke that Elliot made onstage at the festival, which took place just six weeks after she’d given birth to her daughter.) The story of Monterey Pop is entwined in the story of the Mamas & the Papas: The group’s leader, John Phillips, was one of the organizers of the festival, and he even wrote the event’s de facto theme song, “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair),” which was recorded by the folk singer Scott McKenzie. The Mamas & the Papas were perhaps the most famous band on the bill at the time, but that would soon change. The festival — like D.A. Pennebaker’s era-defining, fly-on-the-wall documentary “Monterey Pop” — was a snapshot of the precise moment when the prevailing sounds of folk-rock began to give way to a louder, gnarlier kind of rock ’n’ roll practiced by Hendrix, the Who and another of the weekend’s breakout stars, the lead singer of Big Brother and the Holding Company, Janis Joplin.One of the things that makes Pennebaker’s documentary so valuable is the fact that it captured, in vivid liveliness, so many musical luminaries who would soon be gone: Joplin, Hendrix, Elliot and Otis Redding, who died in a plane crash before the film was released. Pennebaker and his crew shot these artists in intimate, immediate close-up, pioneering the visual language of concert documentaries to come.Today’s playlist revisits some of Monterey Pop’s legendry set list, specifically focusing on the songs performed in Pennebaker’s film. It’s a mix of live cuts and studio versions, of flower-child folk and rabble-rousing rock. It is unlikely to inspire you to go full pyromaniac like Hendrix, but just in case, you might want to have a fire extinguisher handy.Lookin’ for fun and feelin’ groovy,LindsayListen along while you read.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      A Bouquet of Songs for May Flowers

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      Tom Petty, Patrice Rushen, Billie Eilish and more.Tom Petty.Chad Batka for The New York TimesDear listeners,Last month, I sent you a playlist of rainy songs, in honor of April showers. I also promised a sequel. I bet you have spent weeks racking your brain thinking what that playlist’s theme could possibly be. Well, wonder no more. It’s time for a selection of songs about (say it with me) …. um, no, not bell towers. And also not cauliflower, but that’s a fun guess.May flowers, guys! May flowers!Music history is, naturally, scattered with references to flowers — giving them to a lover, or maybe just buying them for oneself. There’s a song for just about every possible type of flora: irises, forget-me-nots, lilacs, you name it. Roses probably get the most mention of any flowers, but hey, even they have their thorns.Today’s playlist is just a smattering of the many songs out there about flowers. It features a few throwbacks from Scott McKenzie and Patrice Rushen, as well as a few freshly bloomed tracks — from Billie Eilish and Cassandra Jenkins — that came out this May. You’ll find a few wildflowers, a rhododendron and even a lotus. Consider this a sonic bouquet from me to you.Buy more stock in roses,LindsayListen along while you read.1. Tom Petty: “Wildflowers”We begin with the tenderhearted title track from Tom Petty’s great 1994 solo album. A few years ago I wrote about the deluxe edition of “Wildflowers” — a treasure trove for Petty fans — and a fact I stumbled upon in my research forever changed the way I hear this song. Written during a turbulent time in his life, the song is not a loving missive to someone else but rather, as Petty eventually realized with some help from a therapist, “me singing to me.”▶ Listen on Spotify, Apple Music or YouTubeWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      The Best of Cass Elliot

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      Hear her extraordinary range in 10 tracks.Michael Ochs Archives/Getty ImagesDear listeners,First of all, I’d like to thank the guest playlisters who filled in for me last week, Caryn Ganz and Ben Sisario. Caryn paid tribute to Madonna’s Celebration Tour (she’s seen it live seven times, which officially makes her an expert) and Ben supplemented his great profile of Mdou Moctar with a thorough primer on African guitar greats. That’s what I call something for everyone.I’m especially grateful to Caryn and Ben for taking over last week because it allowed me to finish a longer piece I’ve been wanting to write for some time: an essay about the life, legacy and music of Cass Elliot. This year marks the 50th anniversary of Elliot’s untimely death, which thwarted a brilliant career that could have branched out in so many directions. But it also spawned a frustratingly persistent and cruel myth about a certain ham sandwich, which Elliot’s daughter hopes to squash once and for all in her lovely new memoir, “My Mama, Cass.” I wanted to contribute to dispelling it, too, and bring the focus back to her charismatic artistry.Though Elliot died at 32, she left behind a robust and eclectic body of work that is ripe for rediscovery. And since I did not have time to delve too deeply into her discography in my article, I figured an Amplifier playlist was in order.Elliot has one of those voices that just puts a smile on my face, plain and simple. But there’s also nothing plain or simple about the particular type of joy her voice conveys. Hers is a hard-won happiness, as heard on perhaps her most beloved solo single, “Make Your Own Kind of Music,” a song of self that stays true in the face of opposition.An endlessly adaptable vocalist, Elliot could sing in a staggering number of styles, and I tried to highlight her range on this playlist. It pulls from pop (her indelible work with the Mamas & the Papas, the group that made her famous), rock (her collaboration with Traffic’s Dave Mason) and even some cabaret. Like watching old interview clips of her on YouTube (an activity I highly recommend; she was an uncommonly sharp talk-show guest), listening to Elliot’s music is a bittersweet experience, because it gets you imagining all the possible futures that could have been.Might she have become a star on Broadway or fronted a hard rock band? Anything seems possible. But there’s also plenty of enjoyment to be found in the bounty of music she left us. So clear your throat, throw on your most colorful caftan and get ready to sing along.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Cass Elliot’s Death Spawned a Horrible Myth. She Deserves Better.

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      Onstage with her group the Mamas & the Papas at the Monterey International Pop Festival in June 1967, Cass Elliot, the grand doyenne of the Laurel Canyon scene, bantered with the timing of a vaudeville comedian. “Somebody asked me today when I was going to have the baby, that’s funny,” she said, rolling her eyes. The unspoken punchline — if you could call it that — was that she had already given birth to a daughter six weeks earlier.“One of the things that appeals to so many people about my mom is that there’s a certain level of triumph over adversity,” that daughter, Owen Elliot-Kugell, said over lunch at the Sunset Marquis Hotel in Los Angeles on a recent afternoon. “She had to prove herself over and over again.”Elliot was a charismatic performer who exuded infectious joy and a magnificent vocalist with acting chops she did not live to fully explore. July 29 is the 50th anniversary of her untimely death at 32, a tragedy that still spurs unanswerable questions. Might Elliot, who was one of Johnny Carson’s most beloved substitutes, have become the first female late-night talk show host? Would she have achieved EGOT status?Half a century after her death, her underdog appeal continues to inspire. Last year, “Make Your Own Kind of Music” — a relatively minor 1969 solo hit that has nonetheless had cultural staying power — became such a sensation on TikTok that “Saturday Night Live” spoofed it, in a hilariously over-the-top sketch in which the host Emma Stone plays a strangely clairvoyant record producer. “This song is gonna be everywhere, Mama,” she tells Elliot, played by Chloe Troast. “Then everybody’s gonna forget about it for a long, long time, but in about 40, 50 years, I think it’s gonna start showing up in a bunch of movies, because it’s a perfect song to go under a slow-mo montage where the main character snaps and goes on a rampage.”Cass Elliot performing on her television special “Don’t Call Me Mama Anymore” in September 1973. After she went solo, she found it hard to shake her nickname.CBS Photo Archive, via Getty Images“S.N.L.” didn’t make a single joke about Elliot’s weight — something that was unthinkable half a century ago. During the height of her fame, Elliot seemed to co-sign some of the jabs at her expense with a shrugging grin.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More