The Wanderer is two minutes, fifty-one seconds of pure swagger. Imagine my surprise when I read a quote from Dion where he said it was essentially a sad song, and that the one of lyrics demonstrated the singer’s existential crisis: “with my two fists of iron - ( I always thought it was “two fifths of wine”) - and I’m goin’ nowhere!”   Dion is a Buddha of self-reflection.

He has always been my rock and roll Sherpa since the age of 8 when my friend Larry Bader and I would play “Dion and Chubby Checker on tour”. Larry was Dion and I was Chubby (‘cause I was) - we’d put on the records and lip-sync our act. The Beatles took over as an obsession a couple of years later, but Dion was never far from my thoughts: he kept coming back through the decades: in the late 60s as a folky warrior for peace; playing coliseumson the oldie circuit in the 70s; in the 80s and 90s as a grizzled, born again survivor; then, producing a string of hit blues albums in the 2000s,  And, he’s still at it, sounding better than humanly possible. At the age of 84 he’s producing some of his best work ever.- just listen to American Hero, his latest with Carlene Carter, and genuflect.

The long delayed Norton release of “Kickin’ Child”, an album he recorded for Columbia that was scrubbed, posits the notion that it was perhaps Dion, before Dylan, who first took folk music electric with the master producer Tom Wilson.  He’s always been in my life, and I’m so grateful for that. If he had taken that doomed plane ride with Buddy Holly in ‘59… just think about what would have been lost.