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: “Paul McCartney Really is Dead: Last Testament of George Harrison”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

Paul McCartney Really is Dead: The Last Testament of George Harrison
Directed and produced by Joel Gilbert
Highway Entertainment, 2010
95 minutes, USD $14.95
Highway61ent.com
MVDvisual.com

According to this documentary style film, someone sent a package to Highway 61 Entertainment which contained some audio tapes supposedly recorded by ex-Beatle guitarist George Harrison while he was in Reading Hospital after begin stabbed by a reportedly insane man. This DVD is based on those tapes, and includes them within.

Producer / Director Joel Gilbert describes these events in the prolog, claiming that the tapes had been to three voice analysis labs, and the tests were “inconclusive.” Thus we are launched into a history of the Beatles, as told by George [Note that from this point, I will just use “George” when referring to the narrator of this DVD, and Harrison when talking about the man] in a very dissonant tone as he is preparing the listener for a shocking revelation.

Now, I consider myself a Beatles fan, but would hardly say I was an expert (someone chided me for making a mistake about Lennon in a recent blog), but even I could tell the voice was not Harrison’s; it was a worse impression than the ‘60s Beatles cartoons. It didn’t even sound Liverpudlian, but rather someone from the States trying to sound like it. For example, bubblegum comes out as “booblegoom.”

That being said, let me set this clear: this DVD is great, truly. I enjoyed it from beginning to end, it was such a hoot. I’ve always enjoyed conspiracy theories, from the JFK assassination to the question of Americans on the moon, from Reagan being our “best” president (yeah, sure) right through to the destruction of the WTC. I rarely agree with the theories, but they are fun to hear. And even if I argue with what this film states, it still brought a smile to me face (sorry I thought I was channeling Ringo, who does not come across too well in this, by the way).

The first question about this DVD is, well, why was the tapes sent to Highway 61 Entertainment? Why not The New York Times? Rolling Stone? Oliver Stone? This made no sense to me, and I kinda wish Joel Gilbert would have at least given some theory to that effect, and that he didn’t bring that up seems suspicious, right from the gate.

Getting back to the narrative, George goes on to discuss Paul’s mid-‘60s trouble with the law and teenage girls in Minneapolis, some detail about how the Jesus protests effected the Beatles and their fans, and so on. In fact there are quite a few news clips of the band, and as so many have seen those same interviews so many times, it is the clips of the fans that are more enjoyable (though my favorite one is not there: in front of the Plaza Hotel in New York, some hysterical teen with a thick Brooklyn accent complaining that she’d been waiting for hours to see the band and the police wouldn’t let her). There is even a very short clip of Lennon and Dylan stoned out of their minds in the back of a limousine [see at bottom of this blog].

Then, in November of 1966, apparently Paul left Abby Roads Studio in a huff at 5 AM, and was killed dramatically in a car crash after picking up a fan named Rita, who caused the accident that would not only take Paul’s life, according to this, but would graphically destroy Paul body, which is given in sharp detail. This leads to someone from MI5, British Secret Service, calling up the band to identify the body. His name is Maxwell, and he forces the boys to silence for fear of Paul’s death causing teen girls to commit suicide on a global scale. A Paul look-a-like contest is held in the States, including on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand, and though a winner is never announced, supposedly someone named William Campbell is selected, flown to England, and is then given extensive surgery to make the transition complete. And of course everyone involved is sworn to secrecy under threat of death by – er – Maxwell’s “silver hammer.”

John, being John, rebels and he nicknamed the new Paul - who is never really accepted by the rest of the band - Faul (short for False Paul), and then he leaves lots of hints of the occurrence, such as calling the album Rubber Soul after “Rubber Paul, and Apple means “A-Paul” (as opposed to “the” Paul). Lots of songs are credited to trying to give hints, including “Nowhere Man,” “and the overly abstract “Come Together.” Backward masking in the recordings is added in, and examples are a-plenty on this DVD (including subtitles, I’m happy to say), some successfully and some questionable.

Much of the “Paul is Dead” theorizing has been discussed before over the years, since Detroit DJ first came out with the story in October 1969. But there is much stretching of credulity as far as I’m concerned, such as Revolver meaning the “Revolving door” of replacing Paul, Yellow Submarine meaning Paul’s coffin (rather than a more widely held belief that it has a drug reference), and that’s just the start of it.

Later on, Feorge…I mean George states that the reason they went to India was to get the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi to transfer Paul’s soul into Faul, because it seemed that Faul is not as smart or loveable as Paul (“We all loooved Paul,” George states more than once). The tape states the reason they left the ashram in a huff was because the switch didn’t work, not because of the Yogi making a pass at Mia Farrow, or Brian Epstein’s suicide (which is not mentioned, I’m surprised; I half expected him to have been offed by Maxwell).

George states that when the information came to light of Paul’s death by Russell Gibb, that is why John divorced Cynthia, to save her and Julian’s life, and then he moved to the U.S. That is also why the States was trying to deport John, as a favor to MI5 so he could be sent to England where Maxwell had more control of him. When John told George he was going to tell, he was killed by Mark David Chapman two weeks later; and when George told Faul he was going to confess, that is when he was attacked and stabbed.

But my favorite stretch is of having rabid fan Rita undergo facial surgery and come back as Heather Mills. That is like the Broadway show Tommy that had the title character marry Sally Simpson. Just doesn’t work for me, and as Tom Bingham points out in his review of this DVD, “I might point out that Internet bios of Heather Mills have her being born in 1968, two years after the accident.” [http://genecdvd.blogspot.com/2010/08/paul-mccartney-really-is-dead-last.html].

I envision it this way: in 1966, the band is bored, stoned, or both, and hear about the Paul look-a-like contest. They figure, like the old Prince and the Pauper story, what if they pretended like Paul was dead, and would give clues to see if anyone would catch on. Creative wiseass John kept it going when the others gave up, got bored, or sobered up, and then it blew up in their faces when someone actually started to put the “clues” together in their own obsessive moment, added by their own imagination. Surely a prank by an art student gone to the nth degree. That is my theory which is mine, too.

The DVD’s Website clearly states that this is “Not affiliated with estate of George Harrison, Paul McCartney, William Campbell, Apple Corp or The Beatles” [paulreallyisdead.com]. While none of the music of the band (or their solo material) is used (i.e., licensed), Wayne Peet does a fine job hinting at it enough through instrumentals to make the connection, but not enough to get sued (one would think), much like the Rutles.

But this DVD is entertaining, don’t get me wrong, but part of the joy is the side-splitting connections that are made to reach the conclusions, no matter how thin. In the same way the Kingsmen’s version of “Louie Louie” was a blast despite that there was nothing really going on to elicit the salacious accusations, The Last Testament of George Harrison makes bold steps and is a fun piece for just what it is, rather than what it is trying to imply.
________
Also on the DVD is a link to MP3s of Peet’s music, and a short documentary of and interview with the late music historian icon Al Aronowitz (who I once met at an Andy Pratt concert, of all things). Al tells of how he introduced Bob Dylan to the Beatles, and how at the confab, Dylan introduced the Beatles to pot. Only a few minutes long, but it kept me interested, despite Al’s slurred speaking (due to age); thankfully, the entire conversation is captioned.


Bonus video:

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):

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:

CHRIS SPEDDING: A Session with Chris Spedding (1980)

Text by John Morace, with Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet
Interview © 1980; RBF intro and epilogue © 2010 by FFanzeen

The following article/interview with British guitar legend Chris Spedding was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #6, in 1980. It mostly conducted by John Morace, and I was there throwing a few questions as well (the one’s I am positive are mine, I’ve indicated). The “new” album to which he is referring is I’m Not Like Everybody Else (1980). Further notes that have been added to the article by me now are asterisked. – RBF, 2010

Chris Spedding: Have you seen that Marlon Brando thing in Playboy? One of the better things he said was you can’t smile in print. Quite often when I do interviews, I say things and I mean them in sort of a funny way. And in black and white, it looks as if it’s a bit dry. If it’s about somebody, it could sound like you’re really putting them down. I’ll say, “Did I really say that?” And I might have, but with a grin on me face…You can always put laughs in parentheses.
FFanzeen: What’s the news about your new solo album?
Spedding: Yeah, I finished it. It’s done. Now I’m going over to England to produce an album for Snips, who used to sing in the Sharks. You remember the Sharks?
FF [RBF]: Yeah, I saw them open for Roxy Music at the Academy of Music, now the Palladium. I remember Busta “Cherry” Jones playing bass on the left side of stage. I still have some slides of it somewhere… Is your album going to be released in America?
Spedding: No, not as yet. We’re working on it. Same label as my last here, RAK. Yeah, I want it to come out in America. If everybody goes crazy over it – obviously, people are going to pick it up… For some reason, people just don’t understand my solo stuff in America. The stuff I have done with other people has been distributed; my other stuff has been imports. I’ve found a lot of people can’t quite get it together when they hear what I do, on my own banner. There is my name on the front of the album instead of small print on the back. It’s like, if somebody heard what I did with Bryan Ferry, and then they hear something of mine, they might have liked what I did with them, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to like what I’ve done by myself. And then they are surprised I didn’t sound like what I did with Bryan Ferry. How can it? I get that sort of problem. People think I’m not consistent in what I do with my own solo stuff. But if you listen to just my solo albums though, you’ll be able to follow a certain consistency. But obviously, if you think, “Well, he did this album, then he went and played with Bryan Ferry, then he went and played with John Cale, and then…,” if you look at it like that, of course I don’t appear to be consistent. Well, why should I if I’m just playing around. So that’s a problem.
FF: When you play with different artists, do you try to gear what you do to what they want? How do you perceive that playing situation?
Spedding: I just go play music.
FF: Are there arrangements?
Spedding: No, they probably got hold of me because they thought I would fit in with them. They would hide me if they thought I didn’t fit in. I always play the same stuff [smile]. I play the same lick in the morning with Petula Clark as in the evening with John Cale. (The licks) sound totally different. I don’t know why everybody thinks I’m so “versatile.” I have the same sound, same amp, same setting, same – I just do it. And if they hadn’t thought that I’d fit in with it, then it’s their fault for aksing me to do it, isn’t it? I susally get asked to do stuff because people have heard what I do and think I would fit in. So, I don’t know wher all that “versatility” stuff comes in, really. That’s a myth. It’s something you could fill a few column inches with, but it’s actually a myth. I really don’t want to subscribe to it… What I always try to ask people is, “Why do you want to interview me?”
FF: Because I think there are a lot of fans who are curious to know “what the make is like”… And I see so many musicians who have respect for you.
Spedding: Well, I’ve been out on the road in America, and I’ve seen people relate to me; not with respect, but people who can actually respond to me in the way I set out for people to respond to me. And it’s not respect for a great session guitar player, which I never really – the lousy thing sort of creeps up on you, you know? They just listen to the song and they don’t expect loads of flashy guitar, and they are just ordinary people that go out and buy records. And they are not critics or musicians. I see that it’s a small group, but it’s growing. People buy records of mine; they must. I don’t know the figures, but I do get a check now and then, which means that there must be somebody out there – not in the recording business who’s getting freebies – buying records, so I think your view of it is narrow.
FF: Well, the difference in your popularity in England and America probably has something to do with the import prices here, which are usually quite high. .
Spedding: Well, actually, that fosters a heavy cult thing, which I don’t have in England. My records are too readily available in England and I’m sort of like a part of the scenery. Over here, I’m not. In a way, it’s a bit of an advantage to start out, because those people that do pay that extra money for those records are staunch fans. I’ve actually signed album covers that I’ve totally forgotten about, of other artists whose names I can’t even remember. These fans have got almost everything I’ve done. Those are the sort of fans that I meet that you wouldn’t meet. So I know I have a following.
FF: You said you were “starting out” now in America. Does that mean you’ve made the move here?
Spedding: Yes, and primarily because my records haven’t been released here. Hopefully, I’ll generate the atmosphere wher people will want to release my records here. I’d like my records released here because I believe my records could be received quite well here. Simple as that… I like New York anyway – and I got fed-up with London.
FF: You’re moving into production now?
Spedding: Yeah, I consciously didn’t get into that before, because people used to think of me doing just anything that came along. And I consciously didn’t do anything that came along for a long time; to try to make people think otherwise. But people still think I’m just a session guy – you know, “Call ‘em up.” That seems to be the sort of, like, people who want to pass me off – like, “Oh, yeah, Spedding is just an old hack.” People still thought that. And when I was wit the group, and when I gave up the idea of being on the road with the Necessaries, I thought, why not go back and do all the things I know I have the experience to do, and that I’ve always wanted to do, and know that I could do well? Why should I not do them just because I don’t want people to think I do loads of different things? Because the myth of the rock star is that he’s just got to do this, and that’s it. People just want to narrow you down. Why should I do that, if I can do all these other things, and I enjoy them, and I don’t like sitting at home idle? Why the hell shouldn’t I? Too bad for everybody who’s making music. Make more music that way than making my own music. And I get input from a lot more people, and the richer my musical would becomes. It can’t be bad.
FF: Besides the album for Snips, who specifically are you going to be working with?
Spedding: A few, but nothing has been firmed up or fixed, so it really might be premature for me to mention people that I might be working with. But discussion is up for other people I might be working with, if and when I’m free. I’m going to be quite busy with the release of my album. If something remarkable happens, I’ve got to be around to do promotion and interviews in England. Consequently, I’m not booking myself up too much, but there are a few things on the horizon I could get into.
FF: If the album were to take off, as it might have potential to do, what kind of band would you put together to support that album?
Spedding: Well, if the album takes off, I don’t need to support it, do I?
FF: But would you put a live act together?
Spedding: Quite possibly. I might do something with Snips, ‘cause I’m working with him in October. It hasn’t been fixed up yet, so this is a vague sort of rumor, you could say. But he might come here, to New York, around New Year's, and we might do some dates together. But I’d not put together any lengthy tour. There’s something wrong in the music business when they’ll assume you’ll lose money on a tour. I’m not going to go out on tour until I know I’m going to make money. I don’t think rock bands should be in existence to make money for PR companies and roadies. They’re the ones making money… (with their) myth building and everything… I don’t really think of what I’m doing as rock at all, because it seems to be such a stale term. It’s not become our music; it’s something (for which) you have to “keep [the flame burning.” Rock’n’roll lives in (that flame) and pop music and disco is not in it at all. It’s like rock music s something we have to protect and look after. Which is all a lot of rubbish. As soon as you say that, the ting is dead. That’s what happened to jazz as soon as they started saying that. Any sort of music, as soon as you start to say that, as soon as it becomes frozen in amber, as it were – this is rock-this is not rock – the thing has stopped breathing. Pop music, you’re always safe with that, because pop music is always pop music. And when rock’n’roll was pop music, we were safe. When rock’n’roll stopped being pop music and started to be something you intellectualized about, and something you could write a thesis about, you’re sunk. It’s stopped developing – it’s become something you can actually look at. You’re not safe anymore.
FF [RBF]: In the book After the Ball, Ian Witcomb said that the Beatles killed rock’n’roll as pop music because they were so gimmicky.
Spedding: Yeah. Not themselves, but everybody else allowed it to happen, I suppose. They probably thought they were doing the right thing. I certainly did at the time, but it’s become so self-consdcious now. New Wave is just a very self-consious arty way to try to rescue that kind of exciement. It’s not reaching people in the street at all.
FF [RBF]: Music in ’75, in New York, when it was just known as “Underground” music, was played for enjoyment, not record contracts.
Spedding: If you see what rock’n’roll was, it (was) really a revolutionary music, and now it’s not revolutionary. Rock’n’roll is just like the establishment now. It was changing things in the ‘50s.
FF: Well, I think it is revolutionary now, like Gang of Four, the Clash …
Spedding: Well, it’s so self-conscious now. Then, they didn’t know what they were doing. Elvis didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to be like Dean Martin. You’ve read that Jerry Hopkins book*. It said he knew every Dean Martin tune. Have you heard Dean Martin’s “Dreams Are Made of This”?... Then you listen to “Don’t be Cruel.” That’s all the guy wanted to do. He wants to be like Dean Martin. He didn’t give a shit about rock’n’roll. (When) he did “That’s Alright Mama,” some critic said, “This is not rock’n’roll, this is not country and western, this is pop.” That’s what he wanted to do. When you take this Dean Martin fixation a stage further… you can say this was his “motive force.” That’s why he made those silly films; that’s why he went to Las Vegas… everything.
FF: I read that the guy who signed Elvis to Sun said that he was looking for a white boy who could sing like a black boy. **
Spedding: Yeah, that’s the rock’n’roll myth. The truth was he wanted to be like Dean Martin. He didn’t single-handedly create rock’n’roll; he didn’t know what he was doing. He couldn’t wait to get away from all those rockabilly cat things and get into “Don’t Be Cruel” and those sorts of things. That was his favorite record, right? So that hypothesis holds quite a lot of water to me. Sure it’s a silly idea, but it’s more appealing to me than the rock’n’roll myth. Elvis didn’t know what he was doing, and builds on it. Obviously, the public needs this myth. It sells papers. But when somebody is like me, involved in the real nitty-gritty of the thing, I find it difficult to talk to people who are insistent on this myth.
FF: What influences are on your album?
Spedding: My album is pop. All my albums have been an attempt at pop. Some of them might have been a bit obscure, but the fire one definitely was. This new one is produced by Mickey Most, the same as the first one ***. They are all songs – sun and played the best I can – pop songs. I don’t want to lay any trips on anybody, or philosophize. I just want to entertain people.
FF: Before the interview, you were commenting on how you get asked the same questions. What kind of questions do you like, as it seems we are having trouble thinking of original ones?
Spedding: I always favor frivolous questions in an interview. New York Rocker did something once on me and I had Lydia Lunch and Anya Philips come down to interview me, and they asked the most frivolous questions. They were taking photographs of me boots and shoes and were asking was I a leather queen and stuff like that. Totally weird questions. I really enjoyed it. They went back to New York Rocker and they said that’s not quite what they were looking for. And then they send Richie Graybel along, who asked all the questions you would expect anybody to ask, and it was a carbon copy of other interviews, where all the same questions got asked. Actually, I saved him from that. I showed him one of these other interviews and he had asked exactly the same questions. So ewe managed to rescue ourselves from that situation. Actually, Interview is much more entertaining – big pictures and sunny quotes under them.
FF: Did you ever do anything like painting…?”
Spedding: Well, I used to do art. I could have done art I suppose; or writing. Journalism or something.
FF: What other instruments do you play?
Spedding: Oh, I sort of mess around on bass, keyboards – stuff like that.
FF: Violin?
Spedding: No. I played a b it of violin when I was really young, but I don’t have one now. And I can’t really play it except for a few weird noises.
FF: What did you listen to as a child?
Spedding: My mother. No, there wasn’t much pop music going on. It was all classical music until I was about 13, when I discovered rock’n’roll. I think that was about when rock’n’roll hit England.
FF: What was the first record you ever bought?
Spedding: Um, Lonnie Donnegan. Oh, he was a very big influence in England. Skiffle stuff. I used to buy all his records. These were 78s we used to buy. I think the first one was “Oh Boy” by the Crickets. And “Good Golly Miss Molly” by Little Richard. And a few Elvis things. There was “Jailhouse Rock.”
FF: Skiffle was really big.
Spedding: Yeah. I used to play all that stuff.
FF: Skiffle never made it to America.
Spedding: No, It couldn’t really. It’s too English, I suppose. But it’s the movement that gave birth to all the Beat groups in the ‘60s, like the Beatles and the Stones, and all that. Everybody who was the least bit musical used to thrash about to that.
FF: When did you first move to London?
Spedding: About 1961 or ‘2.
FF: Was it a big change for you?
Spedding: Well, yeah. I was in school before that. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do at that time and I was going through my own esoteric playing phase. I was listening to a lot of stuff I previously thought was better than pop music. I was pretty bigoted, I supposed. I got over that and went back to the first thing that turned me on.
FF: Did you ever get pulled back into a different kind of music, outside of pop?
Spedding: Well, pop is everything. Rock limits things.
FF: What about jazz?
Spedding: It was very important to my development. But it was really backwater – I never did anything with it. I was just messing around without any direction. Nothing really exciting was happening in the jazz world until the Beatles started. Then I sort of woke up and started getting into it again. When I started getting into pop-rock, if you like, then I started getting a reputation as a jazz musician, because I made an album with a jazz-rock group, Nucleus. I was supposed to be the “rock element” in the jazz group. I was able to understand their point of reference, unlike most other rock guitarists because of (my) jazz phase. And it was really strange. All I did was play the most boring sort of clichéd riffs – and they’re all so naïve, these jazz musicians; they’d never heard them. You could play the most boring cliché and they’d get all knocked out because they’d never heard it before. It’s really quite dangerous to live in such a musical backwater as this. As soon as Miles Davis started added electrical bass and rock rhythm sections, the whole thing became static. Rock form, with him embellishing things on the top. He stopped being what he was doing before. I won’t listen to that. I would rather listen to Sly Stone do it than Miles Davis. So jazz just totally stopped. It stopped developing altogether. So I just switched to the music that was happening for me.
FF: Doesn’t every type of music become stagnant after a while?
Spedding: Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I’ve got to get stagnant as well, does it?

2010 conclusion: While I have heard other people since saying what a nice guy he is and a joy to work with, I found him to be irritable and, well, depressing. John and I walked out and basically our conversation centered around “What the hell was that?” Mind you, we were not super prepared as his records were hard to come by (and, is stated in the interview, quite expensive), but he was quite morose in tone and really did not want to be there. He was grumbling before the interview, during it, and after. Lately he has been working with Robert Gordon and the reformed Roxy Music. Hopefully, he found some happiness in his work, and he should, for he truly is a talented musician.

* The Jerry Hopkins book to which he was referring is Elvis: A Biography (Simon & Schuster, New York), 1971.
** This has been attributed to Sam Phillips.
*** Chris Spedding, 1975.

Solo Discography: http://www.discogs.com/artist/Chris+Spedding
Further info: http://www.chrisspedding.com

Tribute to a Mixed Tape #3

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Videos and images from the Internet

This was a cassette tape that I believe I put together in the mid- to late-‘80s. The videos (when available) that follow are not necessarily the versions on the tape, but it’s the closest I could find. As usual (but not always), my tapes are a mix with no general theme, just random songs I really liked at the time (and most likely still do).

SIDE ONE:

Tom Paxton - Last Thing on My Mind
This is, indeed, one of folk legend Paxton’s best known songs. It’s a beautiful and melodic heartbreaker, with a lilting minor-key chorus for emphasis. “Well, I coulda loved you better / Didn’t mean to be unkind.” What I like about his is that it doesn’t blame anyone, as he is willing to accept his own fault in the fail of the relationship.

Get Wet - Morton Street
One of the strongest songs on their album, and one of the few not weighted down by bad production, this is another powerful piece about a woman in love with a gay man who leaves her to go cruising. Sherri Beachfront’s voice cuts through the listener like a razor of heartfelt pain as she cries out, “Don’t go down to the piers tonight!” This video was taken at the Ritz at a Girls Nite Out show, and yes, I was there! I was so happy to see that this video existed, and I highly recommend playing some of their other songs, as well. And check out my interview with the band in the preceding blog.

Paula and Carole - Open Window Song
I’m not quite sure what is the appeal to me about the music from this children’s program, The Magic Garden, but it seems I know a lot of rockers who agree. Carole was actually the original Sandy Dumbrowski on Broadway (if you have to ask…). There is just something appealing about their voices. Amazingly, I could find lots of videos from the show, but not this song!

Jennifer - Time is On the Run
Way before she was Jennifer Warnes, she was known simply as Jennifer. I first fell in love with her rich voice during a Smothers Brothers reunion show, and then through her co- and back-up work for Mason Williams and Leonard Cohen. When her breakthrough Right Time of the Night album came out in 1976, I was fortunate enough to see her play at the Bottom Line. This particular song, from her second album, released in 1969, is backed merely with percussion; it bops and bounces silkily along in a nearly a capella staccato.

Keith Carradine - It Don’t Worry Me
This tune is from the amazing soundtrack to the film Nashville. The One of Altman’s best (in my opinion), but the soundtrack is almost its own entity, as these cuts rarely appear in the film in same production. As a “various artists” release, it stands on its own, with gems by the likes of Ronee Blakey, and this subtle slice of Americana. It sounds like it could have been written by Woody rather than the son of John. Right from it’s start, it has a powerful image: “They say this train don’t give out rides / But it don’t worry me.” While Keith had a hit with another song (see later), this one is just as good. Barbara Harris sang it in the film.

Beatles - While My Guitar Gently Weeps
This is as much a Beatles song as is “Yesterday.” It is solid George Harrison at his best, and heaven knows I’m not the first one to expound this. And I certainly feel no need to go on and on; the song speaks for itself.

Harry Chapin - Caroline
Not only could Harry tell a great song story of disenchantment, loneliness, and despair, he could also present a beautiful love ballad. This is, if you will, his equivalent of S&G’s “For Emily Whenever I May Find Her.” He explains how fleeting his relationship with her as she “Whispers her words / Saying she'll always love me / At least when we are together.”

Buffy St.-Marie - Universal Soldier
I first learned this song as a child at Camp HES, around the time the Vietnam “war” was just heating up and protest songs were becoming big (we also learned Phil Ochs “Draft Dodger Rag”). Buffy has an unmistakable voice, but what appeals to me is just the sheer dedication she projects. If you’ve ever seen her perform, the woman is solid sincerity. Her “Now That the Buffalo’s Gone” is just as amazing.

Lucy Simon - If You Ever Believed
While her sister Carly garnered most of the fame, I always enjoyed Lucy’s voice and songwriting better. She came out with two solo albums in the ‘70s, and both are gorgeous. This song is another of longing, as are many on this tape, letting her ex- know, “Hey, if you ever believed / Then come back to me / There’s someone who needs you.” It’s pleading without whining, a rare feat. Recently, Lucy wrote the score to the play “The Secret Garden,” but I’d love to hear more of her as herself.

Get Wet - Single
Shari Beachfront’s beautiful voice is in fine form, as is her “theatricality”. She told me she acts out her songs as she’s singing them, and this is one that shows a wide, wide range as she changes keys upward a couple of times only to be even more mournfully reinforcing that she’s “back to single.” Along with “Morton Street,” this shows her wide range and talent as a performer, as well as singer.

Seeds - Can’t Seem to Make You Mine
Okay, this has to be the whiniest song in the history of rock’n’roll, but also one of the great rhythms. Just recently it started to be used in some TV commercial, though it had also been covered years ago as one of the early solo releases by Alex Chilton (who possibly did it even whinier!). The exclamations of pain between each line of the stanzas are both wrenching and humorous at the same time. When Sky Saxon sings, “Can’t you see what yer doin’ to me / You fill my heart with-a misery / With every breath, every step I take / I’m more in love with you,” the listener can feel it in a palpable way.

Standells - Sometimes Good Guys Don’t Wear White
From the first time I heard this song in the early ‘70s (played to me by Bernie Kugel), I found it to be a better song than “Dirty Water,” which in itself was an amazing release. The Standells were great when it came to musical catch-phrases, and “SGGDWW” is definitely one of them. All you have do is hear that beat and know what song it is. And the use of lyrical rhyme all works, with the tongue-twisting “I’m a poor boy born in the rubble,” as they ask important social questions, such as “Good guy, bad guy, which is which / The white collar worker or the digger in the ditch / Man, who’s to say who’s the better man / When I’ve always done the best I can. ”

Zombies - Tell Her No
I had almost forgotten about this song until I heard a very early version of the Nervus Rex (their first show) play it, and had an “oh, yeah,” moment. I went out and bought it soon after. The Zombs had bigger hits with the trippy “She’s Not There” and “Time of the Season,” and they are both rightfully standards, but this early Mersey Beat-style release is no less interesting (sort of like Deep Purple and “Hush”). ”

Keith Carradine - I’m Easy
This won the Oscar for best song of the year, and while I don’t always like the winners, this one is just fine. Keith’s trembling voice over the melody is sort of like a bird hugging the wind. His musical career never went much further than the Nashville soundtrack, but it’s still a legacy of which to be proud.

Lucy Simon - Pavane
Lucy’s soaring vocals hum along to Gabriel Fauré s classical piece that has no lyrics, but she still makes the piece into a showcase for her voice. One can easily find “straight” versions of this on YouTube, but I still prefer Lucy’s.

SIDE TWO:

Lucy Simon - From Time to Time to Time
Remembrance of a first, innocent, childhood love is explored with fond memories and smoky imagery that is a smile-raiser. She remembers walking along the beach, holding hands, and that he wasn’t very tall, but mostly that she still thinks of him from…well, the title says it.

Get Wet - Just So Lonely
They were just so close to making it, it’s heartbreaking. Here’s a clip of Sherri lip syncing on some TV show. GW looks at the more pop side of “low-wow-wow-wow-wow-nliness” in their playful style. While I was more fond of their more baroque tunes like the two above, they also had a flair for the “bounce.”

Bob Gibson & Hamilton Camp - Well, Well, Well
The version on my tape is a live cut from the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Spirituals were big back then, as were duos like Joe & Eddy. Singers Bob and Hamilton (a Canadian who was also a commonly seen actor in the ‘60s and ‘70s on such shows as a classic The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Love, American Style) blend their voices in a warning and sobbing style that both harmonizes and plays off each other in amazing ways.

The Cramps - Bikini Girls With Machine Guns
One of the last great Cramps songs to show off their rhythmic nuances and flair, this is silly, but remains a true vision of their philosophy (“I’ve got my own ideas about the righteous kick / You can keep the reward, I’d just assumed stay sick”) Ivy’s guitar playing here is in top form, as well. For the video, ironically, some of the lyrics had to be changed (“Drag racer on LSD” to “Drag racer from Tennessee,” and “bare-assed on top of the Sphinx” to “bare-backed”), even though images of bestiality (“I even had a gorilla on the slopes of Kismet”) and the message remain.

Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson - Candy
At the start of the song, Iggy states “It’s 1990…it’s been 20 years.” Well, next year will be 40, but I digress. This is based on a true person in Iggy’s life, and the song definitely shows the soft side of a very hard (i.e., muscular) man. Kate Pierson gives a fine turn as the object of the song and showing her non-B-52’s side (as she also did with REM’s “Shinny Happy People”). She goes full out, as does Iggy, with his limited range. Their work together here is what makes the song for me. And, hopefully, her pretty face isn’t going to hell.

Jefferson Airplane - Somebody to Love
While I’m not into much of the Haight-Ashbury experience, the Airplane had a sound that connected with me. Grace Slick has always said that she has a limited range, but she uses it to full force here. While not as subtle as “White Rabbit,” it’s still a signpost for the love generation.

Lyons and Clark - I Thought I Would Try
A one-album group from the mid-‘70s, this sort of fell into my hands when the record company gave me a copy while I was waiting to interview some douchebag, which made the whole experience worth it. I don’t think it will ever be released in CD form, so occasionally I pull this LP out and just play it from cover to cover. This song is one of the cream-on-top-ers of an album of cream. They remind me of the Murmurs, with lush harmonies and meaningful lyrics, which are sentimental, but rarely mushy. Enjoying singing, writing and musicianship, and yet not over produced. A winner that was lost in the mix, for sure.

Harry Chapin - She Sings Her Songs Without Words
Another Chapin love song that is gentle and melodic, something Chapin used rarely, but effectively.

Roy Orbison - It’s Over
The man has a freakish voice, and I mean that in a positive way. This is such a classic, that all I can say is, just listen.

The Cynics - Summer’s Gone
One of the very early songs by this underrated post-garage band from the Pittsburgh area. Before they went a bit harder toned (and still sounding great), there was this period of psychedelic garage sound that was wispy with lots of middle notes and harmonies. Of that period, this remains one of my favorites of the band. Of course, my middle period topper is “Girl, You’re On My Mind,” but that should be obvious.

Cheepskates - Run Better Run
Shaun Flaubert led this garage band from the ‘80s revival period, and the Cheepskates were one of the key figures on the scene. I saw them often on bills with the likes of the Tryfles and the Vipers. “Run Better Run,” again, has a great musical phrase that will stick to you for long after its listening. Nowadays, Shaun works with Dave Rave and Gary Pig Gold, and is still worth checking out. Note that the song appears after the interview:

Elvis Costello - Alison
I was never a big fan of early Costello, actually, though I saw him play MSG with the Replacements opening for him (Hi, Nancy!). “Watching the Detectives” was okay, but this was the only song of his that I liked from first listen. And of all the many versions of it, his remains my favorite.

The Scruffs - When Donna Romances
This Tennessee band never achieved A-level, but this non-LP single gets played more than their album on my turntable. Again, I don’t know if this will ever see CD-hood, but it’s a good pop-in-a-‘70s-underground-vein listen. They’d make a good double bill with the Slickee Boys.

The Seekers - Another You
Another song I first heard as a child in camp. It was on the radio constantly, and then disappeared. I didn’t remember who did it, so I never sought it out. Eventually, I found out it was the Seekers and went out and got it years after the fact, in the mid-‘70s (around the time I discovered the Ramones). From Australia, they had a distinctive folk-based pop sound, elevated by Judith Durham’s soaring vocals. It’s still a beautiful thing to hear.

Paula & Carole - See Ya
The perfect way to end this tape.

Tribute to a Mixed Tape: Weeeeeeeeird Music

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images and videos from Internet

There were lots of reasons to make mixed tapes – when it was still tape. When one hears about this phenomenon, it is usually something made as a gift for someone they are trying to impress, like a potential girlfriend. It was infamously one sided in that way, though I do admit that my then-girlfriend made me some powerful collections.

Most cars played cassettes (though some did 8-Tracks, but they were only pre-recorded), and I used to create my own to play in the car, especially since I haven’t found much reason to listen to a music channel (and the good ones, like WFMU, were hard to pick up then), especially since I was dating someone at a distance and needed to take long, long drives pretty often.

Just recently, I came across a tape I made in 1985, which I had labeled Weeeeeeeeird Music. It was only one side of the cassette, thereby coming in at 45 minutes, and I would like to share.

I have linked the songs at the end of each piece, if available online. Though I own all the music (in vinyl, of course), occasionally I have not been able to find the particular song because I can’t remember the artist’s name, so I have listed them as TBD. If anyone knows, inform me and I will update the blog. These are in the order they appear on the tape.

1. “Deteriorata” – National Lampoon’s Radio Dinner
Sometimes the spoof of a song can be better than the original. In this case it is true about this send-up of the meaningful and spiritual “Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann. The first starts off with “You are a child of the universe / You have a right to be here,” and continues on giving soulful advice to a hippie mind-expanded culture. The theme of “Deteriorata” is similar, but manipulates it (see end of this review) The advice sounds more like the mind of Comedian Steven Wright, with short, sloganesque bon mots like, “Go placidly amid the noise and waste / And remember what comfort there may be / In owning a piece thereof,” “Let not the sands of time get in your lunch,” and “Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself / And heed their advice / Even though they be turkeys.” The male, sonorous voice sounds fatherly or priestly, giving the off-kilter “Say what?” aspect even more power. Sample lyrics:
You are a fluke of the universe
You have no right to be here
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe
Is laughing behind your back
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1NAwlepnSs

2. “Magical Misery Tour” – National Lampoon’s Radio Dinner
Obviously recorded before the mellowing and then assassination of John Lennon, this is a scathing imitation of him spouting out his anger at the world for ripping him off (e.g., “I was the walrus! Paul wasn’t the walrus! I was just saying that to be nice, but I was actually the walrus!”). The song, sung by Tony Hendra in full Lennon mode, is full of vindictive comments about the Stones, Paul, George and Hare Krishna’s, his aunt, and Linda (or Lee?) Eastman. Only Yoko comes out looking well (“I’ll tell you why nobody likes her music / Because she’s a woman and she’s Oriental, that’s why!”). It’s painfully funny from beginning to end, though I know a lot of people who were angry with this. But as the song clearly states, “Genius is pain!” And the last line is an impersonation of Yoko presciently saying, “The dream is over…”
Look, I’m not your fuckin’ parents
And I’m sick of upside hippies coming a-knockin’ at me door
With a fuckin peace symbol
Get this, fuck that
I don’t owe you fuckers anything
And all I got to say is fuck you
The sky is blue!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clkX-x5UOK8

3. “Wop Muzik” – Eddy Gorodetsky and Tom Couch
A spoof of M’s “Pop Muzik,” this is accurate to the original, but the lyrics take a funny look at Italian stereotypes, which made it all the more amusing to me since I grew up in heavily Sicilian Bensonhurst. While making fun of this stereotype (though close enough to be offensive to some, especially those I knew from my youth, e.g., the ones throwing watermelons at Al Sharpton during his many marches through my neighborhood back then), it seems to be it is done in a jovial manner, rather than a mocking one: “Wanna be the next pope / Won’t be no-no / Domni Domni / Holy moley!” Sometimes satire can be so close it truly is hard to see the joke forest for the real trees.
Sacco and Vanzetti
Have some spaghetti
Play some bocce
Sing “Pagliacci”
Cosa Nostra, pizza parlor
Everyone’s talkin’ ‘bout…”

4. “Gaslight at The Ice House” – Pat Paulsen
Paulsen was a cast member of The Smothers Brothers show, but there is some funny solo material on his album, Live at the Ice House. He was known for his complete deadpan delivery (and yet, he often cracked himself up, and rightfully so). This is true with this off-the-cuff lovingly kidding of folk songs that really don’t say anything. He is pretty obviously making it up as he goes along in a sort of melodic sing-song monotone (yes, a true oxymoron), as he pauses to think about the next line and laughs about not only what he just said, but one gets the feeling, about where he’s going.
We ordered a cider and there was a cockroach in my glass
So I switched glasses
And you switched glasses
And the cockroach switched glasses

5. “Disco Jesus” – The Clap
I am certain there are people out there who are going to find this offensive. Probably the point. This is certainly one of the few disco songs I can tolerate, because I simply cannot listen to it without laughing. It’s just a standard, by-the-numbers disco tune with the whistles and all – what a friend of mine would call washing machine music (because it has the same woosh-woosh rhythm) – but the lyrics are something else. The singer wants to do the bump with Jesus and states, “so if you love to party / yeah, Jesus loves you.” It’s the mentions of his “golden coke-spoon and skin-tight bulging slacks” that will probably freak out some. Hopefully, if you believe in that kind of thing, Jesus had (has?) some kind of sense of humor. Please note that this is not the one on YouTube where someone dresses as Jesus dances to the Bee Gees.
Jesus he gets down
Comes to boogie He’s the boss
You oughta see him do the hustle
Upon that funky cross

6. “Walk With an Erection” – Swinging Erudites
Led by Johnny Angel of (City) Thrills and the underrated Blackjacks up in Boston, he put out two albums of comedy with this group. I once saw him at the Rat doing an amazingly funny lounge act of punk songs (somewhat later realized by Paul Anka’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”). But here, his troupe takes on the Bangles hit, obviously changing the lyrics to fit the sophomoric notions they present. They aren’t mimics, per se, but they come pretty close to the original, making this all the more funny, especially with making light of Vicki’s whistling part.
Those college boys are true to form
They try to lure chicks into their dorm
They’re oozing sweat from every pore
They drop their drawers and ask for more
All the girls from BU they say “Hard on, hard on
Beg my pardon”
Walk with an e-rec-tion
MP3s for the Swinging Erudites can be found at www.myspace.com/theswingingerudites

7. “Jon Anchovi Sings: You Give Rock a Bad Name/Livin' On My Hair” – Swinging Erudites
Johnny Angel takes on the demigod-like (at least at the time he was) Jon Bon Jovi. He starts right off with “Shot through the ears / this tune’s so lame / We give rock / A bad name.” While matching the music quite accurately, Angel almost goes beyond the necessary to strike deep in the heart of Jovi lore. I don’t have a problem with it actually, as while I believe Jovi is a probably nice guy, but his music has always been…whatever. Angel leaves no stone unturned, blending the original song’s guitar solo into the key phrase of “Layla,” not just hinting of a “borrowing” (Boston-based musical comedian Blowfish did this also with Robin Trower and Jimi Hendrix). Whenever I hear “Living on the Air” now, I automatically “hear” this version in my head, and smile.
All the kids in the country know all our songs by heart
Like it or not
Oh, I’m a millionaire
Oh-oh, living on my hair
Take my advice and have it feathered and layered
Oh-oh, living’ on my hair

8. “Dead Skunk” – Loudon Wainwright III
This is one of the few songs in the collection that isn’t a take-off of another song. This was actually a semi-radio hit. Loudon was known for his quirky songs, like “Love to the Nth Degree,” and presented many of them on the first season of M*A*S*H and early Saturday Night Lives. This song is a non-sentimental, and yet respectful, look at what is left over when a skunk “didn’t look left and he didn’t look right.” Still, it is less nasty as, say, Tina Peel’s “Fifi Went Pop” (another great song, but not in this collection). Solid country and with Loudon’s unique voice, this is totally hummable. PETA must hate this.
Take a whiff on me, that ain’t no rose
Roll up your window and hold your nose
You don’t have to look and you don’t have to see
‘Cause you can feel it in your olfactory
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pprvp0Uujdg

9. “Kennedy Girls” – Little Roger and the Goosebumps
LR&tG (led by Roger Clark and Dick Bright) are better known for their “Stairway to Gilligan’s Island” (which can be found on YouTube), but I find this one to be more fun. Their dead-on interpretation of Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl” is hysterical. Sacrilege to some, but I see it as a funny and loving tribute, considering how musically adept they cover the song (same with “Stairway,” which totally offended a classic rocker I used to work with). One doesn’t go through the trouble to be this accurate with some appreciation of the original.
Sister or cousin don’t matter to me
On every branch of that family tree
There are Kennedy girls
Don’t care if she’s ugly her credit’s enough
They always carry plenty of green stuff
Those Kennedy girls
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEe3BKCmwV8

10. “Eleanor Rigby” Jimi Lalumia & The Psychotic Frogs
Led by Long Island musician Jimi Lalumia, the Frogs did a total disrespectful makeover of the Beatles classic. More in a punk vein, they take a sort of Lou Reed-ish “Walk on the Wild Side” slice-and-dice, mixed with a Wayne (as he was then) County outrageousness, and tells the sick and twisted tale of Eleanor and Father MacKenzie. The listener knows they are in for something different with the opening line of “Ah, look at all you fuckin’ people.” But I want to add that with its entire shockability factor, which really is the main point here, it is so sick and twisted, that it is also humorous. Also, if you check out the video, read the comments underneath. Some people just take this stuff too seriously.
Eleanor Rigby scratches her crotch in a church where a wedding has been
She’s rather obscene
Down with her panties
She’s never been fucked but she knows some day that she will
So she’s on the pill
A live version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cipi4ezTrQ

11. “I Got Fucked By the Devil Last Night” Jimi Lalumia & The Psychotic Frogs
For those who don’t know, the name of this band comes from a line by Wayne County in his song, “Max’s Kansas City.” Jimi Lalumia is a huge County fan, and this is the perfect example of his dedication. This song is different than any other in this list in that rather than shifting the lyrics to pervert the meaning, Jimi actually changes the lyrics back to their original. When County recorded this, he was forced to soften the title words to “Paranoia Paradise”; Jimi changes it back.
Late last night after I went to bed
I got a demonic feeling in my head
Something pulled my legs apart
And I felt it right up to my heart
I got fucked by the devil last night
He sure fucked the hell out of me
A live version, including Jayne County: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6qGCde6d48

12. “Loco-Motion” – Christopher Milk
Christopher Milk was a band led by rock writer John Mendolsohn, and this was on their album, Some People Will Drink Anything. Basically the lyrics stay the same as on this classic ‘60s tune, but a total reinterpretation with a new bridge in the middle (such as Willie Alexander’s “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling”). When I’ve played this for people, they seem to want to scratch their heads in confusion. Definitely a cult thing from the ‘70s, the two main vocals toss between muddled and slurred with a nasal quality, and a sluggish bass, and bolstered by a pounding beat (especially on said bridge)
I want to see all my brothers and all my sisters out here
Doing the Locomotion with me
Where are you brothers and sisters?
C’mon

13. “Satisfaction” – The Residents
One way to look at it is that the Residents are to rock’n’roll what Miles Davis was to jazz. Lots of dissonance, distortion, noise, and sheer “What the hell?” I have emptied more than one party by playing this cut. One has to hear this a number of times to truly appreciate its sheer mania. Pre-industrial, but they left their mark as an influence. And it is long, though not as much as fellow travelers, impLOG. The video on YouTube sounds completely different, by the way. Oh, and my single is on yellow vinyl!
Not a clue…

14. “Fluffy” – Gloria Balsam
This is done kind of straightforward, but under the…er…capable hands of comedian Gloria Balsam, it has its own aura. Out of San Francisco, this is pure experimental pop. Gloria sings a treaclely song about finding, losing, and then re-finding her dog. I really can’t tell if this is some kind of tribute to her dog, or just a comedy bit, but I gotta say I love this song, from the first time I heard it. Glorida does not exactly have a great voice, but that’s all part of the appeal, especially on the parts that are too high for her voice and comes out kind of as a shriek. Wish she had done more. While I proudly own the original single, Dr. Demento also (and wrongfully) has this on collection, The Worst Records Ever Made. Sacrilege!
Here Fluffy, where are you, where ARE you?
Oh, how much you mean to MEEEEEE
A live version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ2ndH84JOs

15. “A Blind Man’s Penis” – John Trubee
The story behind this is as interesting as the song itself. John Trubee found an ad in the back of a magazine stating that if you send in a poem, for a fee they’ll send it back as a C&W song. He came up with the most bizarre, psychotic, collection of sentences he could thing of and sent it off. This is what came back. The only line they edited was changing “Stevie Wonder’s Penis” to its present title. With straight deadpan, the able country singer twangs over a standard pre-recorded tinny keyboard. What makes this especially fun is that voice and the contradiction of the lyrics he is singing. This record is brilliant.
The zebra spilled his plastic seed on Venus
And the gelatin fingers oozed electric marbles
Ramona’s titties died in hell
And the Nazis want to kill, to kill everyone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vFFewvHwEY