Tommy Boyce: The Fifth Monkee

Text by Nancy Foster; introduction by Robert Barry Francos
© 1986, FFanzeen; introductory comments © RBF, 2011
Images from the Internet

The following article on 1960s music icon Tommy Boyce was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #14, in 1986. It was written by Nancy Foster.

Around 1985, I was hanging out at Nancy Foster’s apartment on Third Avenue, just south of 14th Street, listening to some music. While the building had once been a high class high rise, now it was a bit of a roach-infested hovel. We had gone out to dinner, as we often had, and she was waiting on a visitor.

A ring of the bell, and Tommy Boyce was at the door. We all hung out for a little bit and joked around, and then I took some pictures, none of which came out well (it was a darkly lit room, and I had no flash yet). After a few minutes, I left Nancy to interview Tommy for the following piece.

Sidney Thomas Boyce, suffering from some physical and mental ailments, pulled a Del Shannon and did himself in with a gun almost a decade later, in 1994, but the music he wrote and inspired keeps on going. – RBF, 2011

What do Jay and the Americans, Paul Revere and the Raiders, the Monkees, the Lettermen, The Sex Pistols, Showaddy Waddy, the Darts, among many others, have in common? They all recorded songs written or co-written by Tommy Boyce.

It’s not surprising that Tommy co-wrote, with partner Bobby Hart, the theme to Dick Clark’s Where the Action Is, but the fact that they wrote the theme for that long running soap opera The Days of Our Lives is outrageous.

Talking to Tommy Boyce is fab and fun – like taking a crash course in pop. There are a lot of great stories out there, and he got a million of them.

Tommy Boyce’s first hit came when his father told him, “Write a song for Fats Domino and call it ‘Be My Guest’.” This was a hot tip. The phrase comes from the song “Sea Cruise”: “Be my guest / You got nothin’ to lose / Won’t you let me take you / On a sea cruise.”

So, Tommy wrote the song in 1959 and called Imperial, Fats’ record company. The guy at the record company said, when Tommy suggested the idea, “Fats won’t like it.” Well, Tommy wasn’t satisfied with that. A friend in the industry told Tommy the name of Fats’ hotel, so Tommy went, demo in hand, and waited in the hotel lobby for six hours. When he finally gave up his vigil, he walked out, only to bump into Mr. Domino himself.

Tommy was beside himself: “Uh – Mr. Domino – uh – I have a – uh – song for you. I know – uh – you’ll like it. Just – uh – listen to it. That’s – uh – good enough – uh – for me. My God! – uh – He –uh – touched it!”

One of Fats’ bodyguards tried to cut Tommy off, and the man himself spoke: “Let the boy talk. I like how the boy talk. Calm down, boy!”

So, Tommy gave Fats the demo and Fats promised to give it a listen. The record company contacted Tommy a few weeks later with the good news: Fats would record it. Even better news – Fats had a hit with it soon afterwards.

But then the drought hit. No hit for two years. So Tommy checked out Billboard and Cashbox. There he noticed something pertinent – the songwriting team of Doc Pomus and Morty Shuman had three hits in the Top-Ten! “Wow!,” thought the budding pop god. “If anyone knows the secret of writing hit songs, they must!” Tommy saved his money and made a 3,000 mile trek to find the key to songwriting.

When Tommy arrived in New York City, he hung out at the Brill Building. Then he approached Doc and Morty at their fave teatime hangout. “I wrote one hit and I can’t seem to do it again. I came 3,000 miles to find out the secret of writing hits.”

The answer was simple: “The title.” With this valuable information, Tommy had a hit three months later with “Pretty Little Angel Eyes,” sung by Curtis Lee. Tommy mixed the doo-wop of “Blue Moon” with the romance of the Everly Brothers’ “Ebony Eyes,” to come up with the world’s first romantic doo-wop record with a white guy singing lead and black guys singing back-ups.

Tommy had some solo singles: “Sweet Little Cathy,” followed by “I Remember Carol,” in 1962. In 1964, Jay and the Americans had a hit with “Come a Little Bit Closer,” a by-then-songwriting-team Boyce & Hart composition.

Then, the men behind the Monkees wanted Boyce & Hart to put their musical Midas Touch on the Monkees’ first album (The Monkees). They wrote the TV theme, “I Wanna Be Free,” “Last Train to Clarksville,” “Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Another Day,” “This Just Doesn’t Seem to Be My Day,” “Let’s Dance On,” “Gonna Buy Me a Dog,” etc., as well as added their production know-how.

Yet, it wasn’t all “peaches and cream” behind the scenes of the Monkees. Mickey was fooling around during the recording of “Last Train to Clarksville.” Tommy chastised Mickey and the air turned blue. Mickey returned in kind saying only he could sing the song right. Tommy left the studio and Mickey kept his promise, and such is the way great hits are made.

After leaving the Monkees' songwriting stable, Boyce & Hart, the reflex hitmakers, had three albums on their own on A&M Records, as well as writing the theme to the film Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows.

In 1975, five years after the Monkees’ demise, David Jones had the idea to put together a new version of the Monkees, with Mickey Dolenz, Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. He could not get the legal rights to use the name “Monkees,” so the group of Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart was born. It was so successful that they did a year-long international tour and put out two albums, one studio and one live in Japan.

After the tour, Tommy decided to visit London. He planned to stay a few weeks and ended up staying nine years.

A band called Showaddy Waddy (the British Sha Na Na) recorded religious version of Curtis Lee’s “Pretty Little Angel Eyes” and “Under the Moon of Love.” Then Tommy got together with Richard Hartley of The Rocky Horror Picture Show fame and said, “Let’s put everything I know about the Monkees with everything you know about Rocky Horror, and put it together. The Darts had three albums produced by Tommy, as well as recoding some of his songs, like “Peaches and Cream,” originally done by Tina Turner in 1965.

Tommy also produced the wonderful Pleasers, which included a couple of singles, such as their version of the Who’s “The Kids are Alright.” Tommy said he really enjoyed producing them, and the only thing that held them back was a “rotten manager.”

One of my favorite anecdotes of Tommy’s was the Johnny Rotten story: When Tommy first met Johnny, he introduced himself as the writer of “I’m Not Your Stepping Stone,” and added that he dug the Sex Pistols’ version. Instead of taking a compliment graciously, the ungrateful Mr. Rotten answered Tommy with a beer can in the face.

Years later at the Peppermint Lounge in New York City, Tommy ran into Johnny again and decided he deserved a second chance. So, he introduced himself again. This time, Johnny was more civilized: “You’ve got a lot of money, donca? How about buying me a drink and giving me a few bucks?” Tommy showed his Southern hospitality (he’s from Virginia) by indulging the no-so-rotten one.

Another great story is when Tommy was producing cuts of Iggy Pop’s album, Party. It was a high pressure situation. Iggy said, “Produce me a hit, Tommy, or I’ll kill myself!”

Then there was the time when Christopher “Superman” Reeves asked to meet Tommy. Tommy was impressed with his size and wondered, “Where’s your cape?” Christopher was impressed by Tommy’s wit, but he had a confession to make: “When I was living in the Midwest and I was fourteen, ‘Last Train to Clarksville’ was my favorite song.” When you have Superman on your side, you know you’re okay.

Tommy, who has never been out of the swing of things for long, will soon be back in the public eye. Lorimar Productions wants to do a video on the history of Boyce & Hart. Slated to star in the video are Larry Hagman and Barbara Eden, who will show the Boyce & Hart clip of “Out and About,” from the I Dream of Jeannie show, circa 1965. Elizabeth Montgomery will present another clip from Bewitched, as well. There will also be various and sundry acting and musical personalities, including Tony Orlando, Connie Francis, Chris Reeves (who will aspire to reveal how “Clarksville” was written), etc.

The video will be filmed mostly in Los Angeles, but Tommy took time out to visit New York City and some long-time musical cohorts, like the inestimable Keith Allison (of the Crickets, Where the Action Is, Paul Revere and the Raiders, etc., fame). Where he’ll be next is inn the watching!

Fats Domino


Curtis Lee


Tommy Boyce


Days of Our Lives Theme


Jay and the Americans


The Monkees


Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows


Bewitched


I Dream of Jeannie


Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart


The Darts


The Sex Pistol


Iggy Pop


My favorite of the Boyce & Hart songs

DVD Review: Brian Wilson Songwriter 1962-1969

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Brian Wilson, Songwriter 1962-1969
Executive Produced by Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Chrome Dreams, 2010
190 minutes / 2 disks, USD $21.95
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Is there anyone who doubts that Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys was one of the great recording producers in rock’n’roll history? From the original bubblegum surf sound through the master work of Pet Sounds, there is hardly anyone who could touch his productions in harmony and layering of sounds.

If there is a person or two who are unaware of what lay behind – and beneath – the tracks, this British double-disk documentary set is for you. And if you are someone who is a fan of the man, well, this is also of interest.

Amid clips of the William Asher-directed Beach flicks of the early ‘60s, focusing on the likes of Dick Dale, the story starts off at the beginning, of the rising of the nascent surf scene and sound that was based on the likes of Dale and the Ventures. There is no mention of Duane Eddy’s 1958 “Rebel Rouser,” which I believe had a hand in that sound, though father of the twang guitar, Leo Fender (who lived near the Wilson family) is given credit. In fact, before the Beach Boys, most of the music that would fuel the surf sound would be instrumentals (Dale being a rare exception). Other major influences listed for Brian are the likes of Chuck Berry, B.B. King, Ray Charles, and the vocal jazz harmonies of the Four Freshmen. In fact, according to original Beach Boys member David Marks (1961-63; he left when Al Jardine came in), who is interviewed pretty extensively here, what made Wilson unique was his ability to effectively combine rock’n’roll and jazz.

As the Beach Boys [BB] started out, Brian used his music to bring people to him, rather than him having to go out to meet anyone, states BB biographer Peter Ames Carlin (Catch a Wave: The Rise, Fall and Redemption of the Beach Boys, 2006). That’s just one of the many great insights presented by some interesting folks in their own right, who are interviewed for this set, such as other writers like Domenic Priore (Smile: The Story of the Beach Boys’ Lost Masterpiece), Anthony DeCurtis (editor of Rolling Stone mag), and Phil Lambert (a music professor and author of Inside the Music of the Beach Boys). But more on the other talking heads later.

During the recording of their first single, “Surfin’,” released on the indie Candix label, there is an audio of Brian pushing the other members to give what he wants to hear. While dad Murray is not mentioned at this point, there is obviously something that Brian picked up from him as far as stating his mind, even though he was shy outside the studio (and nowhere does this documentary mention the infamous story about how Brian could not hear in stereo because of being deafened in one ear by a shot to the head by said Murray). Murray does come into the story after the single is a local hit and he uses it to push the interest of the BB to Capitol Records, who sign the band to much success for all.

We are, around this point, introduced to three key players in the BB history of this period through interviews: the BB’s manager and promoter Fred Vail, LA producer and songwriter Russ Titelman, and close friend and confidant of Brian’s, Danny Hutton, who would go on to his own fame in Three Dog Night.

There’s a lot about Brian I didn’t know in this period (I love the BB, but have not read too much of their history, including the books listed above), such as how he managed to find writing partners, and how he also produced many other bands, such as Jan and Dean (okay, I knew about them), and the Honeys (Brian would marry one of them and produce his part of Wilson Philips). I had always thought that all the of the BB had collaborated on the Jan and Dean material, but it seems that is where the animosity within the band seems to start, especially with vocalist/cousin Mike Love, and dad Murray, who were mad that the penned by Brian/sung by Jan and Dean “Surf City” went to No. 1 before anything by the BB.

At this juncture of the story, Phil Spector is introduced, with his infamous wall of sound. However, it is pointed out that Spector learned everything he knew from Leiber and Stoller, and Brian picked up some tricks from Phil. It seems Brian loved the Ronnettes “Be My Baby” (what’s not to love?), and musically, “Don’t Worry Baby” his Brian’s response to it (as is musically demonstrated). But as Bruce Johnson (BB member since 1965) points out, “Wilson overrated Phil Spector; Brian was light years beyond Phil Spector.” Part of his rationale is that where Phil obsessively focused on the music, Brian did the same on both music and vocals, and in less time.

Phil famously used the same set of musicians over and over, dubbed the Wrecking Crew. Impressed by them, Brian flew them out and also used the same group, two of whom are represented in interviews here: the rightfully celebrated drummer Hal Blaine, and renowned bassist Carol Kaye, who was in the studio for more of the records we listen to from that time than anyone else; she is a true living legend and I’d love to see a documentary on her life. But, again, I digress… Blaine suggests at some point that, in the studio playing just bits of Brian’s material, it was “infantile” stuff, seemingly “unsophisticated; we didn’t realize how far out it was.” Brian records all the songs with these musicians while the BB are on tour, and then when they come back, they record the vocals.

When the Beatles arrive, Capitol shifts its focus and starts to ignore the BB, much to Murray’s agitation, who starts to harass the company, leading to his firing by Brian, now sole leader of the group. At this time, when “I Get Around” hits No. 1, Capitol starts being interested again. However, the BB was maturing, and after “All Summer Long,” the focus of the band changed to pop, rather than just surf.

Thus ends the first disc, after 1 hr, 31 min. Please note that although I am telling a lot here, I am only putting out a fraction of the story presented in this wonderful documentary.

At the start of the second disc, which is 1 hr. 38 min., the narrator fills in on the four LPs that followed their first hit. Brian, meanwhile, wanting to work in the studio rather than touring, is replaced on the road by Johnston (who is a great songwriter in his own right, including “I Write the Songs” [that’s right, it was not Manilow], and he had a hand in co-writing Elton John’s “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me” and Floyd’s The Wall. Yes, I know, digress…).

It’s pretty common knowledge about Brian’s drug use, mental illnesses, and the like, but this film sheds some interesting light on the behind the scenes goings-on. The main focus of this second disc, though, is dedicated to their classic Pet Sounds and failed Smile albums. There is a lot of detail about the record, reactions, and tension within the BB, both in the studio and after. While I wrote 3 pages of notes about this period, well, I firmly believe it’s worth seeing it yourself, rather than waxing on and on.

The story of the Beach Boys is a fascinating tale of personalities, pressure and popular music of the period. The interviews are solid, the film clips are impeccable (including bits from American Graffiti, The Last Picture Show - which seems like an odd choice since it takes place in 1951 – and other sources. There’s lots of Beatles, Phil Spector, and especially of the Beach Boys live through the years; there is also plenty of still photographs to complement the narrative). This is good storytelling (and editing) without pandering to salaciousness. One of the better Chrome Dream British telly shows I’ve seen, and most of have been quite good.

There are two bonuses (other than detailed interviewee bios that are in too-tiny print that cannot be “zoomed,” one of my few complaints about Chrome Dream disks). The first is a 3-1/2 minute interview with Johnston called “Pet Sounds Preview: John and Paul Hear the Record,” where he discusses how he brought a pre-release tape of the LP to the UK, and played it for the two Beatles, which Johnston claims highly influenced the Beatles Revolver release. The second short, at 9-3/4 minutes, is called “End of an Era: The Beach Boys in the ‘70s.” The decline of the BB is discussed despite albums like Wild Honey, which went mostly unnoticed.

My only real complaint about the DVD (other than small text for the bios) is the (two-bar?) incidental music by Chris Ingham. Well, not the music itself, which can be heard on the opening clip below, but its overuse to the point of annoyance. Still, the overall package is worth the view.


Bonus unrelated video:

DVD Review: Final 24: Jim Morrison, His Final Hours

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

Final 24: Jim Morrison, His Final Hours
Season 2, Episode 2
Directed by Michael Allcook, Michael McNamara; Chris Bould
Cineflix International, 2007
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

This is now the fourth of the two-season Canadian series on famous deaths, shown in the States on the Biography Channel. The shows deal with infamous deaths in modern (1960s and on) times, using a specific formula that has the last 24 hours dramatized, and each historical segment filled with footage (still, film, and music in this case) and modern (2006 or 2007, depending on the shows release date) interviews with some key figures in the subject’s life.

Sometimes in the recreated vignettes, the actor looks nothing like the real person (such as when they did Janis Joplin), though Christian Skott does look a bit like him, but he overdoes Morrision’s slinking style of walk (perhaps it’s the tight leather pants?). British narrator Danny Wallace (as listed on the box, though IMDB still gives credit to Dave McRae) somberly and often reminds the viewer of the time frame until tragedy strikes (e.g., “In just six hours, Morrison will be dead”).

The action jumps back and forth between the dramatized last day and documentary scenes of Morrison’s life up to that moment. Before each commercial break, the story takes us to a different period of Morrison’s life, whether it be childhood, forming the Doors, over-indulgences, girl friends, and the like. Mixed in – and this is one of the parts I like the best – are the real-person interviews, including his high school sweetheart (who explains how he was reading Allen Ginsburg’s Howl in 8th grade), road manager Vince Treanor, ex-Rolling Stone editor and rock historian Ben Fong-Torres, bodyguard (and drinking buddy) Tony Funches, and even one of the firefighters first called to the scene in Paris, Alain Raisson. A former VP at Elektra Records, Steve Harris, has quite a bit to say, and all of it interesting in a sort of smarmy way (such as “He had these masculine traits with the feminine wiles; that’s what made Jim unique”).

But my favorite is (Miss) Pamela Des Barres, who discusses her affair with him while he was still with his girlfriend, Pamela Courson (who would claim to be his wife and go by Pamela Morrison until her death in 1974, though for some reason this controversy and her passing via heroin OD are never mentioned). Des Barres talks more extensively about her relationships (rather than one-night stands) in her wonderful autobiographies; I recommend both I’m With the Band and Take Another Little Piece of My Heart.

There are other interviews I would have liked to have been added. For example, I remember seeing sensationalist (in part) local television show, Good Day New York, where reporter George Ciccarone interviewed actress / stripper Kitten Natividad, who described how Morrison would come into her bar every night and hit on her, but she always refused because, thanks to bad hygiene, he stank. Also, there is a great interview with Melody Patterson ( “Jane,” female lead of F Troop), who discusses why back then she would rather go see Bobby Fuller than Morrison, in an issue of Miriam Linna and Billy Miller’s classic Kicks fanzine.

A central theme through the 60 minute program is that Morrison wanted to be known as a poet more than a musician, which caused him to move to Paris, where he died (I don’t believe I’m giving anything away here). But lots of controversy is what this series craves, so there’s mention of the infamous Miami concert where he allegedly exposed himself (Treanor has a point to make about that here) and the backlash, but they make sure to present the mysteries of his death, such as Courson’s role and the infamous “is he really dead?” theory (Harris makes the best statement concerning that).

In today’s world of Web gossip sites and overexposure of sensationalism on television, I’m surprised this show isn’t revived; I bet it would do a lot better now than just 3 years ago. And there’s always new fodder as stars and starlets veer ever closer to the final darkness.

DVD Review: “Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review
Directed by Alex Westbrook
Sexy Intellectual, 2010
120 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk.com
MVDvisual.com

When I was in school during the early ‘70s, there was some standard bathroom graffiti, such as “Frodo Lives”, “I Grok Spock,” and “Clapton IS God.” At the time I wasn’t into Middle Earth, being a Stranger in a Strange Land, or music that much (that would start in 1975), so they were all lost on me back then.

Over the years, I have come to understand all of them (and even appreciate some). Which leads me to another anecdote: during the ‘60s, while I was in a 3-week long sleepaway camp as a tyke in the ‘60s, the only record anyone thought to bring was the 45 of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.” When we had a social, it was all we played that summer (I don’t remember them ever playing the other side the entire time). When we wanted to slow dance, it was played at 33-1/3. When we wanted to let loose, it was at 78 rpms. For sing-around-the-campfires we vocalized to social justice songs by the likes Phil Ochs (“Draft Dodger Rag”) and Buffy Ste. Marie (“Universal Soldier”), but when we wanted to dance, it was always “Sunshine.”

Eric Clapton was the guitarist in some of the most outstanding bands of the late ‘60s British music scene, which went from being blues based to full-on rock, from the Yardbirds in 1966, to Bluesbreakers, then Cream, and ending the decade with Blind Faith. All of them relied heavily on Clapton’s wicked fretwork. He could do a solo for more than 20 minutes (especially when stoned out of his gourd, as he was frequently toward the later part of the decade).

This two-hour British documentary starts off with his childhood where he discovered American Blues 78s (first acoustic Delta, then electrified Chicago), and quickly learned to play them as a young teen. He joined a loose band of fellow Blues fans known as the “Roosters,” before meeting Giorgio Gomelsky (whom I have met more than once in the 1980s, while working at a recording studio in Manhattan; he was licensing out Yardbirds cuts) and then joining the Yardbirds. Whichever one of the Yardbirds’ three top-notch guitarists you think is best – Clapton, Jeff Beck, or Jimmy Page – Eric started it off. Of course, he quit after recording their biggest hit, “Heart Full of Soul,” as he felt it was not pure enough blues. As time went on into other bands, he would become more commercial sounding, leaning towards pop more than Blues. Thankfully, this documentary addresses that peculiarity (you’ll have to see it to find out which side it comes out on).

The whole “God” thing started, though, when Clapton joined John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers. It’s kind of ironic that he was associated with being a god when he was so influenced during this period by Robert Johnson, who supposedly sold his soul to the devil (Clapton would later do the song “Crossroads” about Johnson, while in Cream). He left that band due to lack of moneymaking potential. He definitely was ambitious.

My interest in Clapton’s career, for reasons stated above, is in the Cream period, where he had a contentious relationship with his two other band mates, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker. While I found this era to be my favorite of his career in general, to me his best song is still “Layla,” but that was in the ‘70s while being in Derek and the Dominos, so it is not covered here (therefore, I digress…). This band would be short lived, though, because they quickly found they just did not get along, even with pharmaceuticals (according to Pattie Boyd’s whiney autobio, Wonderful Tonight, he was often in an alternative state).

One of the more fascinating points in the documentary discusses in some length the relationship between Clapton and Jimi Hendrix, who came to England and jammed on stage with Cream, basically blowing Clapton away. I’ve heard two different versions of Clapton’s feelings about Hendrix, one being jealous and the other being admiring. This documentary leans towards… well, again, you’ll have to see it.

A point of interest in seeing this documentary at this moment comes with the timing of having just read Cheetah Chrome’s new autobio, A Dead Boy’s Tale. Both the Dead Boys’ second LP and much of Clapton’s Cream material were both recorded by the same producer, Felix Pappalardi, with opposite results. The material of Cream was certainly more suited for Pappalardi’s style, as he worked on the likes of “Sunshine” and “Strange Brew.”

By the time Clapton got to Blind Faith, with Steve Winwood, I still found the storyline interesting in the documentary, though musically I found the band to be an utter bore (the Ramones explained to me why). Clapton went from Blues to pop to sheer masturbatory guitar noodling (Jimmy Page would suffer the same fate with Zepp).

Narrator Thomas Arnold takes the viewer along on the ride, and fortunately does so by keeping our interest. As with other Chrome Dream documentaries, there is a lot of pieces of music, so we get to hear Clapton’s changes over time, and there are even a few brief interviews with him, from 1968, 1991, 2005 and 2006.

There are many talking heads explaining just who Clapton was, what he accomplished, and what he was like in person, such as Yardbirds members Top Tophan and Chris Dreja (whom Clapton replaced, and constantly looks like he’s pained by the experience), John Mayall, Manfred Mann’s Tom McGuiness and Paul Jones, and the irascible Neil Innes, who was in the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band (not to mention the lead Rutle). Other associates include the Cream road manager Ben Palmer and Bill Haverson, the engineer for many of Clapton’s work at the time. Of course, rock journalist Alan Clayson, who not only wrote the bio for Cream and its members, but it seems is on just about every documentary put out by Chrome Dreams. They all paint a picture of the man of that time.

I find some of the people not interviewed kind of interesting, such as the aforementioned Pattie Boyd and Giorgio Gomelsky, Robert Stigwood (who managed Blind Faith), or even Steve Winwood (who I would rather hear talk than play). Also not addressed is his substance abuse (did you see how stoned he was in the film Tommy, singing/stumbling through “Eyesight to the Blind”? Yes, I know, it was the ‘70s again, but it started in the ‘60s).

The two hour length was just the right amount of time, and amazingly I found myself engaged straight through. The balance of clips and interviews kept the pace going nicely, and I definitely learned something about Eric Clapton, and his musical process of the period.

There are three interesting short documentaries as extras. The first one is about the lead up to the Yardbirds backing up one of their idols, Sonny Boy Williams, at the Crawdaddy Club in England. Another is Paul Jones discussing Eric Clapton’s Powerhouse, a studio group formed in 1966 that really deserved more attention as my knowledge of them is pretty limited. The last is engineer Bill Haverson’s amusing tale of a missing guitar foot peddle while recording Cream’s “Badge.”

While not authorized by Eric Clapton, this documentary is fair and seems somewhat comprehensive (other than bits I’ve mentioned above). Certainly he comes across favorably, and as he is a major musical figure of the time, apparently deservedly so.

DVD Review: John Lennon: Rare and Unseen

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

John Lennon: Rare and Unseen
Wienerworld Presentations, 2010
75 minutes, USD $14.95
Wienerworld.com
MVDvisual.com

When VCRs first came out, I remember getting a VHS of Beatles’ press conferences. This DVD reminded me of that, as there is not a stitch of music in it, but luckily it is a bit more comprehensive and certainly the sound is cleaner than that long-ago VHS.

Lord knows, there is so much documentation on the Beatles, in all formats, so here is one more, with its own little twists. If I have it right, most of the framework of this collection is based around a British television commentary by author Desmond Norris (The Naked Ape, etc.), which looks like it’s from around the late ‘70s or early ‘80s. There are also a number of clips of the 1969 appearance of John and Yoko at on David Frost’s program. But I get ahead of myself.

All the Beatles are here in the first past, though not often heard from because, well, this isn’t about them, per se. In fact, Cynthia and Sean don’t get a mention at all, other than a second hand snipe by Ringo during a press conference (“Don’t forget you’re married! Oh, that’s a secret…”).

Through the early part of the DVD, there are present day interview snippets mixed in with older footage, with the likes of Colin Hanton of the Quarrymen, Beatles press officer Tony Barrow, comedian / announcer / fan Len Goodman (you’ll know him when you see him), and for some God-knows reason, Phil Collins (who, other than being a contemporary of Lennon, doesn’t really add much, as usual). One of the more interesting and amusing extended comments is by actor Tony Booth, who happens to be the father-in-law of ex-British Prime Minister Tony Blair; he tells of meeting Lennon at their mutual dealer’s flat, and of them sharing some weed.

Other than a brief comment by Hanton, there isn’t really anything pre-Beatles to note here at all (Act 1 is the Beatles, Act 2 is post-Beatles), picking up on slices of press conferences, television interviews, and b-roll footage of the boys getting on and off planes. Any concert footage, which is kept to a minimal, is used as background for radio interviews.

At first, there seems to be as much footage of other people as there is of John, but that just sets things up: as Hanton explains that at the beginning, John was actually quite shy and reticent to speak in public, but as time went on, this would change sharply. Lennon clearly came into himself in the late ‘60s, being fairly open to express whatever his opinions were, and take appropriate actions for himself.

One of the 2wo large focuses on the Beatles end is the whole religion flap that brought the Beatles back into the spotlight (albeit not necessarily for the right reasons) in 1966, during an interview with Maureen Cleave. There are shots of Lennon getting very defensive and rankled during interviews, and the now-amusing-and-yet-sad comments about Lennon and Christianity by the Klan.

Another segment focuses on the negative reaction to the band in Manila in (also) 1966, when then-first “lady” Imelda Marcos perceived a snubbing by the band, which had to basically flee for their lives from angry crowds. Some of the press conference when they returned to the UK is featured here.

While there is no footage on the whole India debacle (which I’m convinced was as much a cause for the break-up as was the management issues), it is only mentioned in a passing comment. Likewise, there is very little mentioned about Brian Epstein and his relationship with Lennon, though Lennon’s bitterness about the realization of Epstein’s lack of business acumen, which became clear after his death, is quite pronounced. And this, of course, is followed by the acrimonious Klein-Eastman choices that actually did break up the band. Lennon goes on to say that they were going their own way anyway, but it’s easy to tell there is resentment and possibly hurt in his comments.

Of course, by this time, nearly every shot of Lennon is one with Yoko by his side, including the infamous (and abovementioned) 1969 David Frost interview, where Lennon has audience members hitting a nail into a piece of wood and then asking them how it felt.

The bed-in period and John’s activism are well covered, including the concert tour where all the money was to go to prisons to help people make bail. There is a funny quip by him knocking Mick Jagger about greed.

I remember at the time, when I was watching some of these interviews as they originally played out, wondering how much the drugs had played with Lennon’s mind, because the whole “consciousness” bit was fuzzy, and his commentary felt disjointed (which I’m sure is one of the reasons I never had a desire to imbibe). Seeing some of this footage again after all these years, it still sounds profoundly abstract to the point where it’s almost nonsensical to me, but I can enjoy it more now in hindsight as an “experience.”

After the credits (for the ‘80s British telley show?), there is an overly brief segment that is apparently added on, of the newspaper headline of Lennon’s murder and a quick snip after it, lasting no more than 2 minutes total. This, I would have liked to see more of, actually.

John Lennon was an enigmatic public figure, who some folks hated (like my dad, who thought he was a communist and/or rabble rouser), and others adored him as a demi-deity. Either way, he was one of the central public figures of his time, and beyond. This DVD is a fine way to explore the different sides of the Beatle, the figure, the man.

* * *
A John Lennon story unrelated to the video:
A friend of mine (whose name I will add if he agrees) in New York was listening to Alex Bennett’s radio show late one night, and Bennett gave out Lennon’s personal phone number to his Greenwich Village apartment that he shared with May Pang. My buddy, then in his very young teens, called the number, expecting to get a butler or secretary. The phone is picked up. “Hello” “May I speak to John, please.” “Speaking.” Recognizing the voice, my pal panicked, and hung up. Yep, he hung up on John Lennon.

Bonus video by the great Ed Hamell (aka Hamell On Trial):

DVD Review: You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks
Voice Print / ABC Entertainment, 2010
87 minutes, USD $18.95
Voiceprint.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

I have never seen a documentary about the Kinks, and that alone makes this worthwhile. However, I did see the band play the Felt Forum in November 1974. The opening act was themselves, doing their touring set. Then they came back and did the entire Preservation show (both parts).

The Kinks were one of those bands that cool people seem to like. Yeah, everyone who picks up a rock guitar plays “You Really Got Me” when they first start learning (along with “Louie, Louie,” of course), but they were different than, say, the Beatles or even the Rolling Stones, in that they were a bit off kilter (i.e., not following the norms in style either musically or vocally), despite their early strong blues bias. That is also what makes this documentary so interesting.

As documentaries go, this is somewhat light footed, but that’s fine. For the first few years of the band’s history (this film starts when the band is formed), the songs are represented by the Kinks performing live in concerts, usually made up of full songs, with no narration over them. Starting off with television appearances in the U.K., most of the rest of the early period songs are signified by two concerts, one from 1966 in black and white, and the other in color during the mid-1990s, where the full band, including Dave Davies on flashing guitar, plays their more famous numbers, sometimes faster than the original (“You Really Got Me,” for example).

Speaking of the b&w concert, I had forgotten how much lead guitarist Dave also sang in the early days, such as with “Milk Cow Blues,” since he is often overshadowed by his brother, with whom he shares vocals on this particular video. Ray Davies, in the later footage, ranges from extremely fey to solidly aggressive. It’s a shame they had such a tumultuous relationship, because they played off each other so well, both in the early footage and the later. Both Ray and Dave are among those who give first-person accounts in the doc.

Luckily, Max Leinwond’s narration is held at a minimal, especially at the beginning, though it becomes slightly more intrusive in the middle segments. Luckily, it’s not enough to ruin much of the music parts. The writing is kind of fluffy and not overly deep, but again, I would rather hear the songs with some dialog than the other way around, especially for a group like the Kinks, where their sound is king.

In the States (where they were banned from performing though the late ‘60s due to Republican misguidedness (there’s a redundancy for ya), they actually had more hits than most can probably think of off the top of one’s head. One of my favorites, and one of the very first 45s I ever purchased, is “Well Respected Man,” which is represented here. Dozens of their hits are, though I noticed a lacking of “Sunny Afternoon,” and then there’s “Lola” and “Tired of Waiting,” both great songs, which are mentioned in the narration but lacking in soundbites.

Speaking of their songs, and this is a digression, I never realized how much the rhythm of “Superman” sounds like Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” (which is funny because both characters are from rival comic companies…but I digress in my digression).

The footage used, along with those in concert, include backstage shots as the band roams around the dressing room waiting for their call, and home movies, and some interviews of Ray and Dave, among others.

Seeing the progression of the band in one overview makes it interesting to be able to track how the band changed over the years, from hard bluesy numbers, to a harder rock sound at the end of the ‘60s, to a rock opera, and then to ‘80s charting formulas. The latter period (post-MTV) is shown here as music videos rather than concert shots, including their later hits, “Predictable” and “Come Dancing.”

There is a brief interview with Ray in New York, where he discusses the Kinks in relation to punk. He posits that punk was not directly influential by the band, though punk may have adopted their quick playing. Personally, I believe their influence was more that Ray and Dave are not conventionally “pretty” singers, and their earlier songs were also not formulaic for the time.

Unfortunately, the odds of the original Kinks getting together again are slim, with Dave Davies having suffered a stroke and full recovery is not expected. This happened after the date of the DVD, so it is not mentioned, though neither is Ray’s fathering Chrissy Hynde’s offspring, not that it has anything to do with their music, I will admit.

Yes, this is not a perfect documentary, but very few are. That being said, I highly recommend this. Uberfans (like Gary and Doreen) will just kvell, and even those who just loved their music for what it was, will be happy.

Here is a taste of what’s on the DVD; notice the use of “sharp” elbows everywhere by the people dancing in very jerky motion…I just find that interesting, as well:


Bonus, unrelated video:

THE CYRKLE: We Had a Good Thing Going

Text by Robert Barry Francos, 1982
Originally printed in Blitz! Magazine #44, Nov-Dec 1982
Images from the Internet

The following interview with the lead singer of The Cyrkle, Don Dannemann, originally appeared in Blitz! Magazine, Number 44, which was issued November/December 1982. Blitz! Is still around and can be read at blitzmag.blogspot.com.

Though the band broke up in 1967, the Cyrkle remains pop-rock leaders due to two of their hit singles, “Turn Down Day” and “Red Rubber Ball.” With these to their credit and an acquaintance with Brian Epstein, they were swept along as an opening act on the Beatles’ final American tour in 1966. The fugue-like music backing the nasal tones of lead vocalist Don Dannemann gave the Cyrkle a unique and distinctive sound that remains in a class of its own to this day.

Today, the members of the Cyrkle are all doing well in their own respective fields. Earl Pickens is a successful surgeon in Gainesville, Florida. Drummer Marty Fried is a prominent lawyer. Guitarist Tom Dawes [d. 2007] also enjoys similar fortunes as Dannemann in advertising. In Dannemann’s case, success lies in the outer ranges of the music arena, dealing with advertising jingles and supplemental work in other area, such as on The Great Space Coaster, an inventive children’s program.

Above these even, in importance to him, is Dannemann’s wife, Eileen, and his two children. Recently Don and Eileen released a single, “Mother and Lover” b/w “I Did It For You” as a tribute to John Lennon. Rather than a sobby, “We miss you John” record, what they have is a statement on love, for themselves and the world.

The following interview with Don Dannemann was conducted at his home in New York City earlier this year.

Robert Barry Francos: How long have you been playing the guitar?

Don Dannemann: I started playing in eighth grade. I took piano lessons before that. I took some guitar lessons when Elvis Presley first became popular. I started at the beginning of high school, somewhere around 1967. I got a tape recorder early on in high school for my bar mitzvah, I think. Later on, I got a second tape recorder. When I got the second tape recorder, I couldn’t wait to overdub! I couldn’t wait to sing along with myself. The first thing I did was all the parts on “In the Still of the Night.”

RBF: The Five Satins.

Don: Yeah, right. I did all the parts and sang the lead. First, I sang the lead acapella. Then I got up to the tape recorder, turned it on, put the mike in front of the second tape recorder, put the mike in front of me, tried to balance it and sing together. I went back and forth about five times. By the fifth generation, it was very hissy and mushy. That’s what got me going into music.

When I went to college, I had envisioned that I wouldn’t be into rock and roll at all. I started cultivating a taste toward jazz at the end of high school. I began to like it, but never really played it. When I got to college, I was so happy to hear that people still liked rock and roll. So then I started listening only to rock and roll. I met a couple of guys in freshman year. We called ourselves the Rondells. I think there were a lot of Rondells then. I never liked the name that much, actually, when we first got together. Anyway, we were the hot-shit band on campus at Lafayette College in New York. By the time we got to be juniors and seniors, having built ourselves up, we were the band to get for fraternity parties. We began to make pretty decent money. I don’t know what bands make now, but we were making about $400 a night. We would get jobs as far away as Penn State. When we gout out of college, we were about to break up. Tommy had a half year to go. Earl Pickens and I had graduated. Earl played keyboards and sometimes bass. Tommy played bass and sometimes guitar. I was working for my father at a sheet metal factory.

RBF: So that’s how you got the title of “Sheet Metal Prince” [as stated in the liner notes of the Red Rubber Ball album

Don: Right. We were playing in Atlantic City the summer we graduated. Earl was still playing with us. We had played there the summer before, at the Alibi, right off the boardwalk. That summer, Nat Weiss turned up. He was a good friend of Brian Epstein. He wasn’t into rock at all. He was a matrimonial lawyer and a friend of Brian’s. He liked us. I wanted to work for my father to bide some time as I was in the Coast Guard reserves. Tommy, Marty Fried and myself still played as a trio occasionally. We made a couple of demos on our own. They were songs we had written ourselves. We recorded them in stereo. I was scheduled to play them for Nat Weiss the night of the blackout in 1965. Of course I didn’t. I went the week after.

Stereo headphones were new at that time. Nat was hearing stereo headphones for the first time. You could really see it by the look on his face! Next he said, “Let me introduce you to Brian Epstein.” Nat invited me to a party in Manhattan, and Nat wasn’t there! We really felt out of place. Finally he came in and said, “Oh there you are. Let me introduce you to Brian.” Sure enough, there was a limousine outside and Brian Epstein was sitting inside the limousine. He escorted me to the limousine. Nat said, “Brian Epstein, I’d like you to meet Don Dannemann, one of the finest musicians I know.” I shook his hand and we exchanged maybe two works back and forth: “Hello. How are you?” sort of stuff. Then Nat said, “Okay, glad to see you, Don,” and I was escorted out. They closed the door and off went the limousine into the night. I don’t remember the exact chronology, but he got us jobs at a couple of places. One was at Trude Heller’s in New York City. We did lousy there.

RBF: How come?

D on: Right then, the Young Rascals were big. That stuff was making it happen. It was loud and harder than we were. We were like the Count Five, the Beach Boys or the Beatles. Somehow, it wasn’t like that hard, dirty stuff. This is what the club scene was like back then. We did well at colleges.

Anyway, we played a club that Christmas time called the Downtown at One Sheridan Square in New York City. We did pretty good there. Nat was trying to find us a producer. That’s where he tried to sell us. That’s when John Simon saw us and signed us to Columbia. Then Tommy heard “Red Rubber Ball” from a friend of his, who had a publishing company with Paul Simon, who wrote the song.

RBF: Charring Cross?

D on: No. What was its name? Barry Cornfield had a publishing company with Paul Simon, and he was a friend of Tommy’s. That’s how we got “Red Rubber Ball.” That was one of the things we chose to perform. I still don’t quite understand how it happened. It’s a nice song.

We turned down “The 59th Street Bridge Song.” We had our next song picked out, “Please Don’t Ever Leave Me.” It was our first flop.

RBF: Did Earl Pickens play on the first album?

Don: You can’t really hold me to this, although we saw Earl last year and we talked about the good old days. I don’t think he played on “Red Rubber Ball,” but I think he did play on “Turn Down Day.” I don’t remember the rest of the album.

RBF: What about keyboardsman Michael Losekamp?

Don: No idea. Michael Losekamp was not an original member, going with us to Lafayette and all that. He auditioned and got the part of keyboard player. I have no idea whatever happened to Michael Losekamp after the group broke up. We liked him and all, but we weren’t good friends. [According to Wikipedia, Losekamp became an engineer for AT&T and an active musician in Ohio – RBF, 2010]

RBF: Did you have any trouble opening for a band as well-known as the Beatles?

Don: No, it was actually okay opening for the Beatles. We were not the only group. There were several. There was only one group that was basically unknown, the Remains. It was them, the Ronettes and Bobby Hebb. At that time, the three of us were pretty big hits. To the best of my recollection, we got pretty good receptions.

There was one concert where it was just about to rain and they had to get the Beatles on. But it wasn’t really raining yet, so we followed the Beatles. The Beatles opened for us! The other bands had already been on, so we were the only ones after them.

RBF: Do you have any strange or weird anecdotes about the Cyrkle days?

Don: No, I can’t think of anything weird. I would say that the weirdest thing is that there is not much weird. We were very together in college. But as a hit group, I think the fact that we were not weird was unnatural.

RBF: Why did the Cyrkle break up?

Don: Because the group was not being successful, for two reasons: One is the fact that we were not really exciting personalities. Though we did have a very good college concert, we didn’t draw people. But when people did come, like at a college concert, everybody came because it was the only thing happening on campus that night. So when people came, we were very well received. Standing ovations, wild applause and all that stuff. But we didn’t draw. Second, I think, was a poor choice of material and no proper PR. We broke up in 1967.

RBF: Didn’t you do the Seven-Up commercial in 1968?

Don: Yes. That’s when the Cyrkle was just breaking up. Tommy Dawes wrote the spot. That was the first uncola!

RBF: On the sleeve of your new single, you claim that the name Cyrkle was given by John Lennon. But on your first album, it states that it was Brian Epstein who gave it.

Don: Brian handed me a card and said, “Here is your name,” at one of our recording sessions. I always thought it was him. But I saw Earl last year, and Earl said, “No, no, no! It was John who gave the name to Brian.”

RBF: Do you ever envision a reunion gig for the Cyrkle?

Don: I can’t imagine it. If the opportunity came up, I can imagine Earl, because he’s not in the business. Don’t think Tommy would want to do it. I don’t have much of an urge to do it. It’s nice to do these projects with Eileen. If something happens with them, that’s nice, too!



One of my favorite songs by the Cyrkle:

Quiz: Bands Performing on Television and Films in the ‘60s

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

The following quiz appeared in FFanzeen #5, in 1980 (though I’ve updated the text a bit), and the answers appeared in the subsequent issue. Rather than have you wait, the answers are written below, along with links, where available, to see particular clips referred. No peeking, and feel free to leave a comment on this blog on how you did.

The theme is: what musicians appeared in – and performed on – particular TV shows and movies? There are slight hints given.

QUESTIONS

Television:

1. The Munsters [as themselves]

2. The Mothers-In-Law [as themselves]

3. The Dick van Dyke Show [as the Redcoats]

4. Please Don’t Eat the Daisies [as themselves]

5. Gilligan’s Island [as the Mosquitoes]

6. Batman [as Pussycat, Catwoman’s assistant]

Films

7. Having a Wild Weekend [as themselves]

8. Diary of a Mad Housewife [as themselves]

9. Rollercoaster [as themselves]

10. Hold On [as themselves]

11. The Girl Can’t Help It [as themselves, in another studio]

12. What’s Up Tiger Lily? [as themselves]

* * * * *

Answers

1. On The Munsters, who can forget Eddie’s words as he stated, “Hey, pop! Those neat guys are the Standells!” as they performed “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” and “Do the Ringo.”

Bonus, the Standells in the film, Riot on Sunset Strip:


2. Not only were the Seeds onThe Mothers-In-Law, but they performed their great hit, “Pushin’ Too Hard.”

3. They drove Mel crazy as the Redcoats, but Chad and Jeremy were wonderful on The Dick van Dyke Show.
Bonus: they were also on Batman:

4. Can’t you still picture the twins singing with the Righteous Brothers on Please Don’t Eat the Daisies? [No embedding, so…] www.youtube.com/watch?v=OATwHTT9zV8.

5. Les Brown Jr. and the Wellingtons appeared on Gilligan’s Island as the Mosquitoes, and sang the series iconic theme song, as well.
Bonus:


6. Ah, Leslie Gore as Pussycat… How can anyone call Batman boring?

7. Having a Wild Weekend may have been the name of the film, but it was Dave Clark 5 and their “Catch Us If You Can” that was most memorable to me.

8. Was that really Alice Cooper singing, snake and all, at the party in Diary of a Mad Housewife?


9. In the middle of Rollercoaster, filmed in Sensurround (basically big woofers in the front and back of the theater that give us ushers headaches every night), there was a few shots of Sparks doing a couple of songs from the Big Beat album (including Sal Miada!). Remember when Sparks were great?

10. The Herman’s Hermits, and in Hold Onj, Peter Noone got the lovely Shelley Fabares. The video quality here sucks, but:
Bonus, just coz I like it:
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11. As Jayne Mansfield walked into the studio to record her song in The Girl Can’t Help It, there was Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps doing the classic “Be-Bop-A-Lula.”

Bonus, because it’s a great song:


12. And finally, from Woody Allen’s funniest film, What’s Up Tiger Lily?, the music makers in the film were the one and only Lovin’ Spoonful.

SPANKY McFARLANE: Really Getting to Know Her

Text by Mary Anne Cassata
Images from the Internet
© 1985 FFanzeen

The following article/interview with Spanky McFarlane was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #13, in 1985. It was written by Mary Anne Cassata. In the original pressing, I mistakenly misspelled Spanky’s last name, and would like to take this moment to apologize. – RBF

In 1966, the contemporary pop group Spanky and Our Gang because a huge success with their classic “Sunday Will Never Be the Same.” In the tiny, smoke-filled Mother Blues Club, in Chicago, Spanky McFarlane and her group originated accidentally. Spanky, whose given name is Elaine, used to live in an apartment over the club. “The manager called up one night and said he needed an opening act, so we rehearsed all day and night, and got some good reviews,” recalled the lead vocalist of Our Gang, with a smile. “I was real good friends with the manager, so we performed that night.”

Before long, Spanky and Our Gang were signed to the Mercury label and hits began to populate the American music charts, such as “Lazy Day,” “Sunday Will Never Be the Same,” “Making Every Minute Count,” and “I’d Really Like to Get to Know You.” Legendary radio DJ Murray “the K” debuted “Sunday” on his show, and it almost instantly made Spanky and Our Gang a national success. “Murray ‘the K’ really made our first record for us,” says Spanky. “Back then, records weren’t usually played on New York radio stations, but he didn’t seem to care.”

Selling albums in the millions allowed the group to make many television guest appearances on such shows as The Ed Sullivan Show, The Tonight Show, and The Hollywood Palace. By 1969, however, the popular music group almost came to a grinding halt when their lead singer decided to retire and raise a family. Although Spanky didn’t have the desire to perform live anymore, she did remain productive in doing television commercials and singing backup for many legendary recording artists on the West Coast.

By 1974, McFarlane grew restless of her “retirement” and formed a 14 piece country and western band as the new Spanky and Our Gang. Her group performed through the Southwest as special guests for the Willie Nelson Picnic. Having garnered a favorable response with their country act, Our Gang were singed for a special one album deal for Epic Records, called Changes.

In 1981, Spanky received an important call from John Phillips, who was in the midst of reassembling the Mamas and the Papas. To McFarlane’s surprise, he expressed interest in having her assume the role of the legendary “Mama” Cass Elliot. “I didn’t even know him and he called me,” Spanky said. “I asked him who the other Mama would be, and John said his daughter Mackenzie. My only other question was ‘Can she sing?’”

The newly formed group made their debut on Good Morning America and performed up until last year, to sell-out concert halls across the country.

This past summer, Spanky and Our Gang, along with other popular ‘60s acts like the Association, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, Three Dog Night, and the Turtles, appeared together in the Happy Together Tour ‘84. The oldie artists performed to more than 125 sold-out concert halls across the country. Spanky enjoyed her recent concerts and is looking forward to the next one. “It’s so much fun,” she smiles. “It’s great, especially when you’re the only girl with 24 guys.”

The following interview was conducted with Spanky McFarlane in New York City.

FFanzeen: How is the Happy Together Tour working out so far?

Spanky McFarlane: Incredible. Much better than anyone ever dreamed. We get standing ovations every night. People are smiling and happy.

FF: When did the tour open?

Spanky: We played the Beverly Wilshire Theater, which is everybody’s home in L.A. It was kind of hard to open there. We would have liked to play three or four dates before that to see what we had. We didn’t even know what the show was. But it went really well. We got great reviews there.

FF: What song do you open your set with?

Spanky: I actually open the set with one of my favorite songs, an old Martha and the Vandellas tune, “Dancing in the Streets.” See, I did my time with the Mamas and Papas in ’83, so I feel I should include some of their songs in my set, too. Now they are part of my legacy. It was great when we sat down to sing the tunes of the Mamas and Papas. We had about thirty hits to cover. It was incredible. The whole time I was with them, I told my friend, “You better see this while you can.” I just knew it wasn’t going to last. We had good press and everyone that came to see us thought we put on a great show.

FF: What has being part of the tour been like for you?

Spanky: It is funny, because everybody that is in the show spends a lot of time watching the show, which is pretty amazing, since we have done about seventy shows. I think the shows have all been of quality and the people that are in it enjoy it. We are all there for the music. When the Association sing “Walk Away Renée,” I want to be there. It’s a celebration. Between the four groups, we have 23 hits, and I don’t think the Turtles do all of theirs. We don’t have time to do them all. I perform for about 25 minutes, and I don’t’ perform all of mine, and we all do a finale together. It’s really a fun thing. When we sing a hit, the audience stands up. They love it. We all take bows and it’s a lot of fun.

FF: “Sunday Will Never Be the Same” is certainly one of the all-time favorite ‘60s songs. Did you ever think when the song was recorded in 1966 that it would be a classic today?

Spanky: Well, I certainly have no regrets about it. People just like the song and that makes me happy.

FF: Last year, with the Mamas and Papas, wasn’t there supposed to have been an album?

Spanky: We have a demo tape with ten songs. I did some writing with John Phillips and Mackenzie. It was a lot of fun. Actually, we were all writing together. I wish we had more time to do more of it. We think the songs we wrote were all pretty good.

FF: In 1974, after your retirement, you formed a country version of Spanky and Our Gang. Why the switch to country music?

Spanky: Well, in 1978, there wasn’t anything good, musically, to listen to except country music, in my opinion. I like a lot of vocal harmony, so I thought I’d swing in another direction. I was listening to the Byrds and anyone who harmonizes.

FF: What did the old Spanky and Our Gang fans have to say?

Spanky: I don’t know, and I don’t really care. When I had the country band, I didn’t even sing any Spanky and Our Gang songs. For the first couple of years, I wouldn’t even listen to them. But finally, the pressure was on and I did sing some of the songs. We worked up a little medley of songs. I can see why now I guess being a little bit selfish. I mainly wanted to do what I wanted to do.

FF: Were you trying to break out of your old image?

Spanky: Yes, I was. The thought of singing “Lazy Day” – oh, please! How can I keep singing it? It’s funny, I saw one of the guys who wrote the songs on this tour and he came backstage and said, “I know you weren’t going to sing that song.” I said, “You were right, I can’t sing it.” Even, “Making every minute count / making it groovy….” Eh!

FF: I guess lyrics like that don’t really apply to the ‘80s lifestyle too much.

Spanky: Yeah, I guess they don’t apply too well. Maybe I should rewrite some of it, and scare the shit out of some people! [Laughs]

FF: There is a cross section of people that attend your concerts. A lot of young kinds, as well as parent – not to mention the over-30 audience.

Spanky: Yes, parents have played the records for their kids and everybody sings along. It is really neat. We see a lot of people singing along and, of course, we urge them to sing along, too. At the end of the show, everyone sings along with us. All the bands come back on stage together for the finale.

FF: Why was there two different versions recorded of “I’d Really Like to Get to Know You”?

Spanky: I think one was the single version and one was an album version of the song. One was only shorter, that’s all. The original was in the album [Like to Get to Know You], we just extended it. We had quite a long instrumental for it at the end. When I produced the Greatest Hits album, I decided I really liked it. I also had a tape of everyone talking and by then a couple of the guys had died, so it meant a lot to me to have their voices there, laughing and joking.

FF: Malcolm Hale passed away at the height of the group’s career. How did that affect you?

Spanky: Actually, two members died, Malcolm and Lefty Baker. Malcolm died in ’68. We were about to start a summer show called Rollin’ on the River. When Malcolm died, everyone wanted to quit, especially me. So we all quit. In 1971, Lefty died. That can sure break up a group. Malcolm died of pneumonia. He didn’t even know he had it. He died in his sleep. We really didn’t do a big publicity thing about it. We were really in mourning. The group broke up real quietly about two months after he died. We just didn’t have the heart to get any publicity out of Malcolm’s death. It wasn’t something we wanted to discuss. We all just went our separate ways. We said goodbye and remained friends for life. Actually, Nigel, who was in the first group, helped start the second one up. The county band was really a continuation of Spanky and Our Gang. All I have left is the ties to those guys.

FF: How do you feel about performing on this tour with the remaining members of Our Gang?

Spanky: You know, the thing about it – and I realize it now – is that you get closer to the people you work with. Sometimes more than your own family. I had five brothers when I was growing up. I was close to them, but then, I haven’t lived at some since I was 14 years old. All these bands I’ve had have become my family. It is not just like losing a partner; it’s like losing a brother. I have a daughter who is very pretty and very bright and she loves rock’n’roll. When I brought my kids home from the hospital, the first thing I did was set them between the speakers and turn the music up. It probably wasn’t every good for them, but I did it anyway. I was listening to [Dylan’s] Blood on the Tracks when Nat was born.

FF: During your heyday, did you feel Spanky and Our Gang was more of a cabaret act or contemporary rock band?

Spanky: Well, that’s funny. We started out as a joke band and we played acoustic instruments. We did a lot of comedy and show tunes, folk tunes, and rock’n’roll. We did anything that pleased us. We were contented with ourselves and everybody loved what we were doing. It gave us all a chance to shine at what we do best. We sand the blues or anything we felt like doing. We always did our songs with harmony and a lot of style. We even had the first electric jug and washboard. I even had an electric banana, which was a kazoo. That was something to see. When we went over to Europe, all our equipment was stolen. The silly hats and these silly instruments we had were gone. That part was an aspect of our show. We just didn’t have the heart to find new outfits, so we dropped a lot of our comedy numbers. We did get more serious songs like, “I’d Really Like to Get to Know You,” and “Give a Damn.” It’s funny to look back in time and now we don’t do the comedy act. It’s weird.

FF: How did the Happy Together Tour originate?

Spanky: In my opinion, it evolved from the Mamas and Papas. I think if they were still together they would have been on this tour. It’s, like, a spin-off of a TV show. Everyone thinks that Our Gang is my band, but it is actually Gary Puckett’s, the Union Gap. I’m with Gary, and we’re Spanky and Our Gang again. It’s amazing. No one knows it’s the Union Gap. Everyone thinks it’s my band. It really doesn’t seem to matter.

FF: We had mentioned earlier about the reunion of the Mamas and Papas. How were you asked to assume the role of Cass Elliot?

Spanky: That tour was because John Phillips had called me and I went to spend a year with them before I ever went on stage. It was the most amazing year of my life. I changed everything. I moved to the East Coast, brought my clothes and family to be close to John and Mackenzie, who were having drug treatments in New Jersey. At the time, they had to do their way of life. We put the band together. It was very exciting. I brought a friend of mine and that is probably why we are all together now for this tour. Carlos [Bernal] used to work with the Turtles, and my ex-husband [Charly Galvin], and the Byrds. As the plot thickens…

FF: Why was the Mamas and Papas’ tour so short?

Spanky: That’s interesting. Last year, at about this time, Mackenzie went back to her TV show [One Day at a Time] . She was going to be gone for 26 weeks out of the year. It wasn’t going to be enough to tour just for the six months. Shortly after she had lost her show; by then I wanted to do something else. I felt I just couldn’t’ do it any more.

FF: What was it like, singing with Mackenzie?

Spanky: She’s a very talented actress and you know what? J A good singer, too – once she got over her initial fear of the stage, which didn’t take more than five minutes. She let her voice settle down, too. She had good power and range and, after a while, we were sounding like sisters. We were that close in our voice range, and we can get the same timbre. She is still pursuing her acting career in L.A., although I think she would like to be doing the Mamas and Papas very much. It just doesn’t seem possible for her and her father to work together. As close as they were, it was still very hard. I also want to say that Denny was really good. He was like a rock throughout the whole thing.

FF: A few years ago, your debut album had been reissued by Mercury. What did you think of that?

[1998]
Spanky: I thought it was very interesting. It had been one of the first album covers that folded out with pictures inside. When they reissued the album, it wasn’t the same cover. Good ol’ Mercury Records – good ol’ cheap Mercury Records. The cover didn’t fold out. I wish they would have re-released the Greatest Hits album [re-released in 1986, and again in 1999 and 2006 – ed.], actually, because that is more logical than our first album. We also had a bootleg album put out. They bought a tape from 1966 and put out an album in 1971 as a new album. It was called Spanky and Our Gang Live. We had been together about a week when that tape was made, and to have them put it out as our new album – after the group had three or four successful albums already. It is amazing the record company can do things like that. It was a little bit embarrassing because it was a live album. There was no overdubs or instrumentations, or a chance to correct anything. It was strictly bootleg. You never know what your own label is going to do.

FF: Have you ever considered taking your talents to Broadway?

Spanky: Oh yes, I have. I think my voice is suited for Broadway. I think that would be a fun thing to do. I have thought a lot about that; more lately than the past. Do you know anybody who would be interested? I wish they would do the Ethel Merman story, or Ernest Borgnine. I don’t think I have anything more to say.