Podcasts about american rock and roll

When a musician as legendary as drummer Stan Lynch invests his time and efforts into a new project, I want to know what it is. His new band is called The Speaker Wars and they make the exact kind of American rock and roll you'd expect with Stan's pedigree. The new self-titled album will be out this month. Stan and I also discuss his time with Tom Petty, his relationship with the other guys, what gets him excited about making new music, and some of his collaborations like Eddie Money, Henry Lee Summer and Del Shannon. Stan's a super easy going guy who doesn't seem to have a care in the world. I'm jealous!  www.thespeakerwars.com www.patreon.com/c/thehustlepod

Van Halen was one of the greatest American rock and roll bands of all time, captivating audiences with their energetic performances, innovative guitar riffs, and catchy lyrics. Led by  guitar virtuoso Eddie Van Halen, Van Halen created the perfect blend of hard rock with some pop sensibilities..  Even as their sound evolved over the years as they switched back and forth between the showmanship of Diamond David Lee Roth. the more straightforward powerful voice of Sammy Hagar, and that other guy that most fans overlook, they made millions of fans and inspired countless musicians.  We're talking about Van Halen's career, and for our 100th episode, we're calling in the big guns: former WWE Superstar and ECW Original The Blue Meanie, a diehard Van Halen fan. Episode Playlist Check out our episode playlist ⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠. Get In Touch Check us out ⁠⁠⁠online⁠⁠⁠, on⁠⁠⁠ Facebook⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠, or ⁠⁠⁠YouTube.⁠⁠⁠ or drops us an email at ⁠⁠⁠show@prisonersofrockandroll.com⁠⁠⁠. Or if you're in Philadelphia, come visit our home base at ⁠⁠⁠McCusker's Tavern⁠⁠⁠. Prisoners of Rock and Roll is part of ⁠⁠⁠Pantheon Media⁠⁠⁠. We're sponsored by⁠⁠⁠ Boldfoot Socks⁠⁠⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Van Halen was one of the greatest American rock and roll bands of all time, captivating audiences with their energetic performances, innovative guitar riffs, and catchy lyrics. Led by  guitar virtuoso Eddie Van Halen, Van Halen created the perfect blend of hard rock with some pop sensibilities..  Even as their sound evolved over the years as they switched back and forth between the showmanship of Diamond David Lee Roth. the more straightforward powerful voice of Sammy Hagar, and that other guy that most fans overlook, they made millions of fans and inspired countless musicians.  We're talking about Van Halen's career, and for our 100th episode, we're calling in the big guns: former WWE Superstar and ECW Original The Blue Meanie, a diehard Van Halen fan. Episode Playlist Check out our episode playlist ⁠⁠here⁠⁠. Get In Touch Check us out ⁠⁠online⁠⁠, on⁠⁠ Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠, or ⁠⁠YouTube.⁠⁠ or drops us an email at ⁠⁠show@prisonersofrockandroll.com⁠⁠. Or if you're in Philadelphia, come visit our home base at ⁠⁠McCusker's Tavern⁠⁠. Prisoners of Rock and Roll is part of ⁠⁠Pantheon Media⁠⁠. We're sponsored by⁠⁠ Boldfoot Socks⁠⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textKenny Dubman is a battle-tested rock and roll veteran, coming up through the club circuit right out of high school, and forging through 3 major label releases with New Jersey melodic rock faves Prophet. After walking away from writing and recording for over 20 years, he's back with a vengeance, writing guitar-driven American rock music with deep reaching, thought provoking lyrics that cut straight to the heart and mind. While top notch guitar playing is still very much his M.O., writing and singing songs that make the listener want to hear them again...and again...is now Kenny's primary objective. Combining elements of 70's hard rock, southern rock and Americana, his music is truly real, raw, American rock and roll that packs a punch. All you need to do is listen.Find Kenny DubmanWebsiteInstagramFind The Suffering PodcastThe Suffering Podcast InstagramKevin Donaldson InstagramTom Flynn InstagramApple PodcastSpotifyYouTubeThe Suffering Podcast FamilySherri AllsupKetaReviveToyota of HackensackSupport the showThe Suffering Podcast Instagram Kevin Donaldson Instagram TikTok YouTube

Retired Intelligence Detective Gary Jenkins brings you the best in mob history with his unique perception of the mafia. In this episode of Gangland Wire, host Gary Jenkins interviews the prolific chronicler of the American Mafia, Jeffrey Sussman. Listeners will learn about Morris levy and the mafia's influence on the roots of the world's most important cultural influences, American Rock and Roll. Two of the most important men who influenced the rise of rock and roll were Morris Levy and Alan Freed. Levy had close ties with the Genovese crime family. Levy was the notorious head of the record label Roulette Records. Reportedly, Morris Levy used illicit money from the family to fund his businesses, with several members of the mob said to be present at his meetings. At the time, Freed and other corrupt Disc Jockeys corrupted the entire industry with their "pay for play" of records, which became known as "Payola." Morris Levy terrorized young performers into giving up thier royalities. Meyer Lansky, AKA the “mob's accountant,” was one of the most successful mafiosos in history and had many investments in jukeboxes. Reportedly, he “controlled every Wurlitzer jukebox in the New York area”. So too, did the Chicago Outfit (who rose to power under Al Capone) have many dealings with Lansky and his jukeboxes. A mob history book, The Outfit, argues that the Wurlitzer Corporation accused Lansky and his Chicago associates of disrupting the distribution of Wurlitzer jukeboxes. The Outfit is also said to have worked closely with Jules Stein, head of the Music Corporation of America. Apparently, Stein, the mob, MCA, and Meyer Lansky had all worked at least in some form with the mob fixer Sidney Korshak, a prominent mafia name in Los Angeles. Click here to get Backbeat Gansters: The Rise and Decline of the Mob in Rock Music by Jeffrey Sussman. Subscribe to get gangster stories weekly Hit me up on Venmo for a cup of coffee or a shot and a beer @ganglandwire Click here to "buy me a cup of coffee" To go to the store or make a donation or rent Ballot Theft: Burglary, Murder, Coverup, click here To rent Brothers against Brothers, the documentary, click here.  To rent Gangland Wire, the documentary, click here To buy my Kindle book, Leaving Vegas: The True Story of How FBI Wiretaps Ended Mob Domination of Las Vegas Casinos. To subscribe on iTunes click here. Please give me a review and help others find the podcast. Donate to the podcast. Click here!

Pokey Lafarge's music dabbles in mambo, tropicália, rocksteady, and mid-century American rock-and-roll. He shares the music that's influenced him. 

Send us a textTonight on Fowl Players Radio we are joined by Sammy Lee- drummer for Red Reign, an American Rock and Roll band from Richmond, VA. Sammy came by to discuss Red Reign's new album plus their East Coast tour with LA Guns, talk about "new good music" and share some fond memories of his musical career.Red Reign will be opening for LA Guns at Rams Head On Stage in Annapolis MD on 4/29/2025.Red Reign's Website-www.redreignband.com (band info- calendar- links to socials)www.dekoentertainment.com (merch)www.ramsheadonstage.com#redreign #redreignband #ramsheadonstage #michaelspedden #fowlplayersradiowww.fowlplayersradio.comwww.thefowlplayersofperryville.com#michaelspedden#fowlplayersradio#fowlplayersofperryville@fowl_radio@SpeddenMichaelwww.youtube.com/@fowlplayersradiowww.patreon.com/fowlplayersradiobuymeacoffee.com/fowlplayerw

Singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and music producer Buck Johnson. He is the keyboardist and backing vocalist for the legendary rock band Aerosmith, The Hollywood Vampires and The Joe Perry Project. He currently on tour with Ringo Starr. As a versatile entertainer, Buck's artistry encompasses American rock and roll with a unique soulful flare that comes from his gospel roots creating a sound and style of his own. Buck releases his highly anticipated album Tongue and Groove. The album is a rock and roll experience with the soulful depth of a seasoned storyteller. Packed with blistering guitar riffs, haunting melodies, and lyrics that cut to the bone, Tongue and Groove is a fearless tribute to resilience, drawing its strength from the timeless concept of the “tongue and groove” woodworking joint—a symbol of enduring connection and strength against life's fiercest storms. Ladies and gentlemen, Tongue and Groove is a collection of songs Buck had co-written with lifelong collaborators such as Charlie Midnight (James Brown, Joe Cocker, Joni Mitchell), and was self-produced by Buck. The album showcases the roots-rock voice of Buck (“the tongue”) with his classic rock production (“the groove”). Buck enlisted talented musicians and friends on the album, including guitarists Damon Johnson (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Alice Cooper, Brother Cane), Peter Stroud (Sheryl Crow), Rob McNelley (Bob Seger), drummer Nick Buda (Taylor Swift, Kenny Chesney), and bassist Ted Pecchio (Susan Tedeschi). His new album, Tongue and Groove drops September 20th so be sure to get a copy. Head over to BuckJohnson.com for the new album and all his tour dates. #buckjohnson #aerosmith #soloalbum #tongueandgroove #newmusic #ringostarr #rockmusic #popmusic #powerballad #toto #thebeatles #beatles #steventyler #joeperry #hollywoodvampires

Singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and music producer Buck Johnson. He is the keyboardist and backing vocalist for the legendary rock band Aerosmith, The Hollywood Vampires and The Joe Perry Project. He currently on tour with Ringo Starr. As a versatile entertainer, Buck's artistry encompasses American rock and roll with a unique soulful flare that comes from his gospel roots creating a sound and style of his own. Buck releases his highly anticipated album Tongue and Groove. The album is a rock and roll experience with the soulful depth of a seasoned storyteller. Packed with blistering guitar riffs, haunting melodies, and lyrics that cut to the bone, Tongue and Groove is a fearless tribute to resilience, drawing its strength from the timeless concept of the “tongue and groove” woodworking joint—a symbol of enduring connection and strength against life's fiercest storms. Ladies and gentlemen, Tongue and Groove is a collection of songs Buck had co-written with lifelong collaborators such as Charlie Midnight (James Brown, Joe Cocker, Joni Mitchell), and was self-produced by Buck. The album showcases the roots-rock voice of Buck (“the tongue”) with his classic rock production (“the groove”). Buck enlisted talented musicians and friends on the album, including guitarists Damon Johnson (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Alice Cooper, Brother Cane), Peter Stroud (Sheryl Crow), Rob McNelley (Bob Seger), drummer Nick Buda (Taylor Swift, Kenny Chesney), and bassist Ted Pecchio (Susan Tedeschi). His new album, Tongue and Groove drops September 20th so be sure to get a copy. Head over to BuckJohnson.com for the new album and all his tour dates. #buckjohnson #aerosmith #soloalbum #tongueandgroove #newmusic #ringostarr #rockmusic #popmusic #powerballad #toto #thebeatles #beatles #steventyler #joeperry #hollywoodvampires

On this week's episode, we have music manager Dave Rose (Lit, Marcy Playground, Stryper and many many more) and we discuss his journey starting out as a bassist and what it's like managing today vs. the pre-digital age. Tune in for so much more.Show NotesDave Rose Agency: https://www.deepsouthentertainment.com/Dave Rose on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@daverosedeepsouthDave Rose on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/daverosedeepsouth/ A Paper Orchestra on Website: https://michaeljamin.com/bookA Paper Orchestra on Audible: https://www.audible.com/ep/creator?source_code=PDTGBPD060314004R&irclickid=wsY0cWRTYxyPWQ32v63t0WpwUkHzByXJyROHz00&irgwc=1A Paper Orchestra on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Audible-A-Paper-Orchestra/dp/B0CS5129X1/ref=sr_1_4?crid=19R6SSAJRS6TU&keywords=a+paper+orchestra&qid=1707342963&sprefix=a+paper+orchestra%2Caps%2C149&sr=8-4A Paper Orchestra on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203928260-a-paper-orchestraFree Writing Webinar - https://michaeljamin.com/op/webinar-registration/Michael's Online Screenwriting Course - https://michaeljamin.com/courseFree Screenwriting Lesson - https://michaeljamin.com/freeJoin My Newsletter - https://michaeljamin.com/newsletterAutogenerated TranscriptDave Rose:I'm so amazed that people pay me to do this. I was doing it long before I knew you could make money at it. And so the pinnacle for me is really that this continued joy of the business of musicMichael Jamin:You are listening to. What the Hell is Michael Jamin talking about conversations in writing, art, and creativity. Today's episode is brought to you by my debut collection of True Stories, a paper orchestra available in print, ebook and audiobook to purchase And to support me in this podcast, please visit michael jamin.com/book and now on with the show.Hey everyone, welcome back to another episode of What the Hell is Michael Jamin talking about conversations in writing, art, and creativity. And today I got a special guest for you. Musicians out there. You don't deserve any of this. This is a wonderful treat for all of you. Don't say I never gave you anything. I'm here with Dave Rose from Deep South Entertainment and he is a career music manager. But Dave, first of all, welcome. I got a billion questions for you, but did you start off, are you a musician as well?Dave Rose:Thank you. Good to be here, Michael. Man, mutual admiration all the way around. This is exciting to be here. But yes, I started out as a musician. I was a, yes, I started out as a musician. I mean, yes and no, there's a story, but I became a musician out of necessity.Michael Jamin:How does that work? No one becomes, that's like the last thing you become out of necessity.Dave Rose:I know. Isn't that funny? So I was managing, and I very much put that in air quotes. Say I was a freshman in college and I had a local band decide they wanted me to be their manager. I was showing up at all their gigs and selling merchandise and unloading the van and doing all the things that I thought I could do to help. I just loved being around music. One day they said to me, would you be our manager? And I didn't know what the hell a manager was. I still don't. But they said, well, you could start by getting us some gigs. And that's not what a manager does, by the way. But that's when you're in college, that's what you do.Michael Jamin:That's not what a manager does then. Okay, you have to elaborate on that when weDave Rose:Can get into that for sure. So I got 'em 20 gigs and we had it all booked up and we're all ready to go. And we were two weeks out from the very first gig, big string of shows, playing skate ranches and pool parties and all the places that you play when you're just starting out anywhere and everywhere that'll give you room. And they came me and they said, our bass player quit and he's moving, so we need to cancel these gigs and we can no longer, we will audition new bass players later. I said, like, hell, you are, I've been watching this. It doesn't look like it's that hard to play bass, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to cram myself in the basement with you, Mr. Guitar player, and you're going to teach me all the parts to these songs.We're going to go play these 20 shows with me as the bass player, and when we come back, you can audition bass players. That's how. And they were like, yeah, that's not how that works. I said, well, that's the way this is going to go. And so they did. I crammed myself in the basement and learned to play bass in two weeks, and it was rock and roll. It was three chord rock and roll. Wasn't real hard, but apparently I picked it up pretty easily and I played bass in a band for the next 10 years, but that should have been my first indication that I was not a musician. I learned how to play just to keep a band.Michael Jamin:But you must, if you played for 10 years, you're good enough.Dave Rose:Yeah, I mean I figured it out along the way.Michael Jamin:Wow. But then at some point you went to full-time management.Dave Rose:Yeah. Yeah. I ultimately segued into full-time management, and that was, I started this company putting out compilation CDs. That was a big thing. I started in 1995 and in the mid nineties, these sort of mix tape CDs were a big thing. And I would find local and regional bands from around the area and put 'em on this compilation CD and put it out and see what happens. But from the very first CD we put out, we had one of the biggest hits of the nineties, a song called Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground. And my intention was I would stick my band right in the middle of all these big regional bands or bands that I thought was going to be big and maybe my band would get some attention too. And I think nine bands on that first compilation got record deals accept my band. So that was kind of my moment of realizing, yeah, I'm definitely not, I'm way better on the business side of things.Michael Jamin:So then tell me then what a manager music manager does exactly if they don't get you work.Dave Rose:Sure. It's very different, I would guess, than in the film and TV business. And I would love to learn this from you, but I'm guessing in the film and TV business, the person that gets you work is the agent. Is thatMichael Jamin:Yes, the agent and not the manager and I have Right,Dave Rose:And that's what it is here. So a manager in music, I'm put it in the simplest terms, but it's like if the entire career is a wheel, the manager and the artist are in the center of that wheel. And all these spokes are things like booking agents and publicists and record labels and publishing companies and people that do film and TV music and all the accountants, the crew, all the thing, the attorneys that make the machine, the wheel turn. The manager is making sure all of those things are working. So it's sort of like being, I compare it to this, it's being the CEO of a band, but if you're,Michael Jamin:I'm sorry, go on.Dave Rose:That's all right. The band is owned by the band or the artist is owned by the, they own their company, but they retain an artist manager commission, an artist manager to manage their career.Michael Jamin:But if that band is going on tour, are you expected to go with them?Dave Rose:Only if you're in country music.Michael Jamin:Okay. Why is that?Dave Rose:It is different. Country music is one of the few genres that still very much lives and dies by the radio, and so the relationships with local radio is very important. So a manager should be there to kind of nurture those radio relationships from town to town to town. Now, if you're in rock and roll or hip hop or almost any other genre, Americana folk bluegrass, most managers do not travel with the band,Michael Jamin:But a touring manager would No,Dave Rose:A tour manager. Exactly. A tour manager does. And the tour manager is exactly, it sounds, it's the manager of the tour. So it deals with getting the bus from point A to point B and where do we park and what do I mean? It's way more than that, but it's the finance of the tour and they report to the artist manager.Michael Jamin:Now over the years, I've heard you mention this, you have a very, very big it's successful TikTok page, which is how I found you. You've managed a bunch of really big acts, right?Dave Rose:I've had some, yes. I've had a lot of, and I still do have a lot of big acts. It's been just amazing. I keep waiting for somebody to knock on my door and go, okay, gigs up. Time to get a real job.Michael Jamin:Can you share some of 'em with us?Dave Rose:Oh, absolutely. Yeah. So I got my start with Marcy Playground, and I'm still with them 26, 7 years later. But one of my first big clients was the piano player, Bruce Hornsby, who was in the Grateful Dead, and he had a bunch of hits in the eighties and nineties, but he's had a very, very unique career. He is done albums with Ricky Scaggs and Jazz Records, but Little Feat, the classic rock band of, they're just so iconic. The band Lit who had one of the biggest rock hits of the nineties, that song, my Own Worst Enemy, some of the country acts that I've worked with, Laney Wilson, who just won a Grammy, and yeah, I worked with the band six Pence, none The Richer who had the mega hit Kiss Me. And so yeah, it's been not to just, one of the bands I've been with the longest 23 years is an eighties rock band from LA called Striper. They kind of came up in the ranks with Moley Crewe and Bon Jovi and that kind world of big hair and Sunset Strip and all the things of Hollywood, but they're a Christian man. They sing about Jesus. So they're very, very different than that.Michael Jamin:At this point. Are new bands finding you or are you reaching out to them? How does that work?Dave Rose:Yeah, they usually find me at this point, I don't develop a lot of new acts anymore, mostly because I've just been doing it a long time and developing a new act from garage to Grammy is not only risky, but it's a long runway. And when you've been sort of doing it for as long as I have, and I don't mean any disrespect to anything on this, but you don't need to take that risk anymore.Michael Jamin:But it seems like on TikTok, it seems like you're talking to those people.Dave Rose:I am taking my audience on TikTok is very much the audience that is sort of just trying to figure out the next steps of a very complicated career path.Michael Jamin:But then why are you talking to them now if that's not, I assume it's because that's what you're looking for, but No,Dave Rose:Yeah, no, that's a great question. The reason I'm doing it is very pure, because it is hard to do this, and there's a lot of bad advice flying around out there. And to some extent, I wanted to get on there and level the playing field and just let people know the reality of how the business works. No, I'm not at all seeking to manage sort of startup band. I do some coaching that I'm more than willing to help them in. I'll do these 30 minute sessions where I can really, really fast track things for them, help them avoid years and years of mistakes in a very quick conversation. It's a lot like the stuff that you do in the sense that I'll meet an artist from Topeka, Kansas or wherever and how they're learning stuff that they would not learn anywhere else, only because nobody's ever told 'em.See Michael, something I think we ought to talk about at some point in here is part of why it's difficult to get a manager in the music business is because of how a manager gets paid. Okay, how did they get paid? I think that's an interesting dynamic that a lot of just, certainly a lot of people, but even a lot of artists don't know how that works. So how does that work then? Yeah, so a manager is paid by commission, so it's strictly a commission base. So if you are an artist and you go out and you play a show or you sell a T-shirt or make some sort of income, a percentage of that income is paid to your manager, includes the record deal, includes everything. It typically includes, and sort of depending on where you are in that artist's career, it includes most every aspect of their entertainment career, including what about royalties?It does include royalties, particularly if those royalties were ones that you helped them earn. If you get them a record deal and they continue to earn royalties either through radio play or whatever, you would earn a commission on that. So you're earning commissions on these revenue streams, and that's typically about 15%. So if you think about managing, like we talked about the wheel, all those different spokes in the wheel, maybe for each act that I manage, that's probably 150 decisions a day that we're making on behalf of that artist. So you can't manage a lot of acts as an individual. You can have a company like we do that manages, has managers that manage acts, but generally speaking, you can't manage a lot of acts. There's a lot that goes into a typical day of that. So the commission, if you just break it down to making a living, an artist has to be making significant money for it to be worth that manager's time to spend the bulk of their day managing their career.So when you've got an artist that's just starting out, and I want to get to why it's hard to get advice when you've got an artist that's just starting out and they're making no money and are making very little money, I don't know, 20, 30, 40, $50,000 a year, you think about that 15% of that is $5,000 a year maybe for the manager. So it's really not enough to say, I'm going to dedicate my life to you, which is really what it takes. So as a result, it's almost impossible for an artist to meet a manager. It's really hard to meet a manager. Our time is paid by commission. So that's why I get on TikTok and talk about the things I talk about because I was that bass player in a band not knowing what the hell I was doing, making every mistake under the sun. And I'm very, I don't know, very genuinely just trying to help people not make those mistakes.Michael Jamin:Now, you said something a while ago on one of your tiktoks, and I was surprised you don't come down. I thought everyone was supposed to hate Spotify and streaming because of the way, in my opinion, in my point of view, artists are being raped. I mean, that's how I see it. But you don't feel that way?Dave Rose:I don't. I mean, do I think it's a fair payment system? No, I think there's a lot of improvement that needs to happen. Part of what I think is the imbalance is the payments between an artist, a songwriter, and the record label. You see, when a song is on Spotify, those are the three main parties that sort of have to get paid a record label, an artist and a songwriter. And the songwriters are the ones that are really struggling in this time.Michael Jamin:From what I pay on what people pay on Spotify, I gladly pay double for what? I mean, I get every album I want to listen to at any time through the month, almost anything. And if I pay double, I still feel like the artists wouldn't be making not even close to what they used to make.Dave Rose:Well, yes. Again, we got to remember, there's three buckets. We're dealing with the artist, the record label, and the songwriter. And in some cases, that's the same person in all three of those buckets. If you go out and self-release a record, and you've written that record and you performed on that record, and you do millions and millions of streams on that record, you're making very respectable.Michael Jamin:I thought, again, I come at this completely ignorant. I know so little about it, but I think I saw a video by Snoop Dogg saying his album was streamed a billion times and he made 10 Sense or something.Dave Rose:That's a famous video. That video circulated a lot. And what is missed most often in that conversation is the difference in those three buckets. My gut tells me, and I don't know Snoop Dogg's complete history, but he probably does not own that recording. So a big chunk of that money that's being earned probably went to his record label, and I don't know, maybe he wrote the song, maybe he didn't, if he didn't write the song, he's missing that bucket of income, or maybe he did write this. So my gut tells me there's more to that story. SoMichael Jamin:Misunderstand this, which is fine.Dave Rose:I dunno, the full snoop do the inner workings of his business, but my gut tells me there's more to that story because I know no shortage of independent artists making a great, great living, really. But the thing that's different, and the thing that we got to think about that's different from say 2005, say 20 years ago, the biggest difference is the revenue streams now are very multiple. I mean, I met a band the other day that's doing insane six figures just on YouTube.Michael Jamin:On YouTube ad. So they put their music and they make ads on YouTube. Exactly, because they're not sellingDave Rose:It. That's right. The ad revenue is making four members a living, a very good living.Michael Jamin:See, it was my impression that, okay, so 20 years ago, a band would go on tour and after the show, they'd sell okay, merch, but they'd also sell the cd. If you want to listen to music, they sell. But now no one's going to buy that cd.Dave Rose:They do. They very much buy, well, more so they buy vinyl. The vinyl buy vinyl. And what's crazy, I was just on the phone with a head of a record label and he was talking about the rapid increase in the number of cassettes they're selling, which is crazy. It's just such a, I tell people this all the time, but you can't autograph a stream, so you're going to always need to have something that people can take home. I mean, I read the other day of all the vinyls sold only like 37% get listened to, but vinyl cells are through the roof, really. They buy the product, they get it autographed, they keep it as a collector's item, and then they stream it on Spotify.Michael Jamin:But why do you feel vinyl as opposed to a cd, which is just vinyl, but smaller and better quality? Why is that?Dave Rose:Yeah, I think CDs, I mean, also depending on the genre, certain genres are very cd, like country. People still buy CDs. If you go into a Walmart and rural America, you're going to see a lot of country in there. But yeah, I think vinyl partially because it's just big and cool to hold, andMichael Jamin:Yeah, you right, because not a lot of people have record. A lot of people don't even how to use a record like we do, butDave Rose:Yeah. Well, I mean you'd really be surprised, Michael. The vinyl industry is insanely huge.Michael Jamin:Interesting.Dave Rose:And really among kids, I mean, the kids are buying vinyl. If you go into an Urban Outfitters, which is obviously geared toward 20 somethings, they have a whole record section in there, whole vinyl section in their stores, and they sell record players at Urban Outfitters.Michael Jamin:Right, right. I always thought that was ironic. I didn't realize that they're making money that way. I know. I thought they were museum pieces.Dave Rose:Well, probably to some they are. Wow. Yeah.Michael Jamin:Now, do you specialize in any kind of genre of music or does that matter toDave Rose:You? I'm a rock and roll guy at heart, but I've done a lot of work in sort of songwriter rock. I've certainly had my share of country acts, although it's not my preferred genre, I've not done a lot in bluegrass, and I've not done a lot in hip hop, which is strange because if this is a visual thing, I'm staring at a Tupac Black behind me. So I say I don't really work in hip hop, but then I got to Tupac Black up here.Michael Jamin:I have a question for you. I don't think you're going to be able to answer this one. I don't know if there's an answer. ProbablyDave Rose:Not.Michael Jamin:So Daryl Hall has a show that I happen to catch sometimes. I think he shoots in his basement or something. You must've seen it, where he brings in friends, like eighties stars or whatever, Darryl'sDave Rose:House,Michael Jamin:Darryl's house, and he looks cool. He's got a blazer on, he's got dark glasses, and I'm like, okay, he looks cool. But then sometimes he brings in other men his age, which is whatever, 70, whatever it is, I don't know. And they're dressed and they're stars from the eighties, and they're dressed like they used to dress in the eighties. I wonder, how are aging rockstar supposed to dress? Do you have to answer this to your clients? YouDave Rose:Talk about this. Oh, yeah. We talk about, I mean, I tell artists this all the time, including my big artists. The biggest mistake you can make with a tire fashion, whatever you want to call it, is to not talk about it. You have to talk about it. A matter of fact, I recommend a band sometimes, particularly new bands, take a night and don't bring your instrument, get in a room together and talk about what you want This look to look like. It is so incredibly important and,Michael Jamin:But do you have an opinion on what it should be then? Should it stay what it was, or should it evolve?Dave Rose:I think it's interesting, like this eighties band striper that I talked about that I manage from the eighties, that it's the same guys 40 years later. Back in the day, there was a lot of hair and makeup and spandex pants and all the things that, and so no, they don't wear that anymore, and they don't wear the makeup and the teased hair, but they do an age appropriate version of that rock and roll gear and rock. ItMichael Jamin:Seems weird because the fans are coming to see their band. The fans don't want the band to age, but unfortunately the band aged.Dave Rose:Yeah.Michael Jamin:How do you give them what they want? It seems like, it seems like a really hard thing to struggle with.Dave Rose:It is. It's a tough thing. And the good ones, the ones that are really good at this, are good at sort of making fun of the, well, sort of making the audience one with them and sort of we're all aging together and this is welcome to us 40 years later. What I think we don't want is our aging rock stars to show up in sweatpants and a hoodie. We want 'em to show up at least caring and some resemblance of days gone by without being a carbon copy of that, because you shouldn't try to be,Michael Jamin:For the most part though, I imagine they're playing whatever their greatest hits, the songs that made them big, and the people, the fans, that's what they want to hear. And I imagine if I were a musician who's played the same song 30,000 times, I might get tired of this.Dave Rose:You would think, and here's what happens to a lot of them. Some do, yeah. They usually don't get tired of it. They get tired of being known only for that. There are some artists that have two or three mega hits so big you can't even compare. And as a result, there's no way for their catalog of deep catalog of hundreds of songs to sort of surface. It's why the band little feat that I worked with, they never really had a radio hit, and they always talked about the best thing that ever happened to us was never having a radio hit because we never had this super high. Instead, our fans consume our entire catalog. It's a little bit like the Grateful Dead in that sense. Grateful Dead never had this mega hit. They just had a lifestyle.Michael Jamin:Do they complain to you about this, though? Is this something they talk about?Dave Rose:Yeah, I mean, one thing that's interesting is when you're on stage and you're playing a 60, 75 minutes set or whatever, and you're playing songs from your catalog, one thing that you don't think about a lot, but when they hit that big hit, when they go into playing that big song that everybody knows of any song in that, it's almost like it's for them, it's a welcomed break in the set. Meaning when you're playing a new song, you're sort of working really hard to try to win this audience over on this new material or this unfamiliar material. So maybe if you're a rock band, you're probably moving around a little more. If you're whatever kind of band you are, you're just really giving it all to win over this crowd. But when you kick into a mega hit that they've heard a million times over, it's a moment you can just breathe.Michael Jamin:I see.Dave Rose:And go, okay, I'm good for three and a half minutes here. They're going to go nuts. No matter what we do.Michael Jamin:I would not have thought of. That's interesting you brought that up. I would not have thought it, but I would've thought it the other way around that like, oh, fuck, I got to play this again. ButDave Rose:No. Yeah, no. I do have a few artists that feel that way. One of my favorite moments in that regard was Sean Colvin. She's a kind of a folk songwriter artist, and she did end up having a big hit called Sonny Came Home, and that came out, I guess in the, I'm going to get the dates wrong, but that was a huge hit. Sonny came home and I went and saw Sean Colvin one night in concert, and she comes out on stage packed amphitheater, and she says, we're going to go ahead and play this song for those of you that just came to hear this, so you can go ahead and leave and the rest of us can have a good time.Michael Jamin:Is that what happened though?Dave Rose:That's why she opened the show when Sonny came home, and then what happened? I'm paraphrasing what she said there, but it was generally that for those of you that just came to hear the hit, let's play it. You can go about the way and sort of the implication was the rest of us who came to hear the entire catalog can now enjoy the show. DoMichael Jamin:You think people walked out? I mean,Dave Rose:Nobody left nobody. I was there. Nobody left. And that's a bold move. Yeah. I love that about her. And that's kind of the way a lot of artists feel about a big hit is like they don't dislike it. They love what it's brought to their career. They just dislike it being the only thing people may want to consume.Michael Jamin:I think about art, and you must have these conversations with your artists is like, how do you reinvent yourself on the next album when audience, your audience doesn't really want you to reinvent you. They want what they have, but if you give 'em the same, it's also like, yeah, we already have this. It seems so incredibly daunting to come up with another album that works,Dave Rose:Man. It is. And I got to say, in your world, I would think the same thing. How do you write the next episode given the audience what they want, but still keeping itMichael Jamin:Well, that's when they get mad at you. That's when they say the shows jumped the shark. Or they say, the show died four years ago. JumpDave Rose:The Shark. Is that aMichael Jamin:Term? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. You haven't heard it. That refers to an episode of Happy Days when Henry Winkler, they put him on water skis and he had to jump a shark tank. I rememberDave Rose:That.Michael Jamin:And he was wearing a leather jacket when you saw Fonzi jumping a Shark tank in a leather jacket. You go, all right, the show is Jump a Shark.Dave Rose:Oh, I got to remember that. Oh, yeah.Michael Jamin:It's a famous term. Yeah, I worked with Henry years ago and we spoke about that.Dave Rose:Oh, really?Michael Jamin:Yeah. Yeah. It's funny.Dave Rose:What did you work on with him?Michael Jamin:It was a show called Out of Practice with Henry Winkler and Stocker Channing and Ty Burrell, and they were the three main leads, and Henry's like the sweetest man in Hollywood. But we spoke a little bit about thatDave Rose:Being a child of sort of growing up in the eighties. I'm going to be remiss if we don't at least, and I'm sorry, man, talk about asking somebody about their hit. Please tell me about Beavis and Butthead for a minute. I mean, I don't care what you tell me aboutMichael Jamin:There's, there's very little I can tell you. So I was friend, this is when they brought the show back. It's been on three times already. And the second iteration, our friends, John Altro and Dave Krinsky, they were the showrunners. They created Silicon Valley and now they're running the second beavers. But that was so they needed freelance writers. It was a really low budget thing, and they reach out to us and the money was terrible, but we just had a break in our, we were in between shows, so the timing was perfect. They said, do you want to write some Beavis? But so we pitched them maybe 10 ideas. They bought four, but that was it. I mean, that was kind of the involvement. Then we went to see Mike Judge, we went to the record session. So we'll go to the booth and we're all watching videos, and we we're literally standing over his shoulders watching music videos, just pitching jokes about what beef is, and Bud would say, and then he would go into the booth, do the voice, and come back out. That was my involvement. So it was only we because wanted, it was just a fun experience. It was not forDave Rose:Sure. Absolutely. What a, but again, I bet coming into it sort of midstream like that, what an even harder job. You've got hits. You want to give the audience what they expect, but you also want to give them what they don't expect. I mean, how you do that as an artist is hard.Michael Jamin:And do you have these conversations with your bands?Dave Rose:Absolutely. Yeah. Yes. Because the funny thing about music is none of us, if we sit down and listen to our Spotify list or whatever, and we have our catalog of music, none of us listen to one kind of music. We listen to all kinds of music, jazz and reggae and rock and whatever. We all have a mixture of taste, and depending on our mood, we want to explore that music. It's the same with artists. They don't think in one genre. They're artists. They're thinking all over the place. So it's really hard for them creatively to stay in this lane. It's why you see so many artists, I'm going to try to do a country record, or I'm going to try to do some other exploratory record, and that's okay. If you're Prince, you look like a genius. If you're Prince, if you're just starting out, you look confused. I don't know what I want to do, so I'm going to do a jazz song. So yeah, we do talk a lot about trying to stay, it's a terrible term for art, but trying to stay on brand with both your look and your sound and your music and the audience. When they go to buy a Bruce Springsteen record, they don't want to hear a jazz record. They want to hear good American rock and roll songs,Michael Jamin:But they also don't want to hear, I think you too may struggle with this. I think they got their sound, and it's like, all right, but I've already heard it.Dave Rose:They do struggle with that. Yeah, they've had a couple, and almost any act has their moment of when they look back on it, it's kind of like, what was I thinking?Michael Jamin:Right. I mean, to me, it sounds like I haven't listened to it in a while, but at one point I got an album there. I just thought it just sounded like every other, and they were amazing in the, I don't know, it seems like a very hard balancing act. How do you do this? How do you ItDave Rose:Is. It's why bands like Kiss, for example. I don't, I can't remember when. I think 20, I don't know. It was over 20 years since they recorded new music, just because they didn't want to attempt, they didn't top what they had done.Michael Jamin:I heard an interview by Cures for Fears, and they were talking about, and I didn't know this because really, I don't know the inside of music at all, but they were talking about how at one point, the album, I guess mid-career, that they were assigned a music producer and the producer kind of determined the sound. And I was, I surprised. I really thought that that's what they did. I thought they wrote all their songs and it said they were hearing songs written for them. I did not know that. I was really surprised. They are songwriters.Dave Rose:They are songwriters. And sometimes when a band or an artist hits that moment of how do we feed our fan base, but stay ahead of things, sometimes a good producer, outside writer can help move that along.Michael Jamin:On their last album, they shunned all that. They did it themselves, and I thought the album was terrific.Dave Rose:Yeah, I mean, I haven't heard it, but I've heard people say that,Michael Jamin:Oh, you haven't.Dave Rose:It's probably because they really went for the middle lane that they developed all along with their fan base. I mean, they're a brilliant act with an incredible catalog.Michael Jamin:Yeah. I mean, in the management world, at least in tv, in film, and for agents as well, it's not untypical for atypical for a writer or an actor to get to some point. Then they leave their manager or their agent, maybe they outgrow them or something happen. And how do you reconcile that?Dave Rose:Yeah, that happens all the time. In the music business, we call it the revolving door of managers and artists. I've had some come and go and come back and go,Michael Jamin:Really? Do you not take it personally then, orDave Rose:One of the things you have to do is truly not take it personally. And sometimes it's sort of like I look at it like this. If you were to own a restaurant and that restaurant grows and changes and involves a different manager, has different skill sets. We're not all graded everything. We're good at certain things. And if you happen to be at the place in your career to where you're with a manager that is good at the things you need, that's a perfect relationship. If you happen to go outside of that, then you might need someone with a different skillset. And oftentimes a manager is the first to say, I feel like I've taken you as far as I can.Let's find something new here. It's no different than a football coach or a restaurant manager or any sort of leader of a company. Sometimes for a lot of reasons, the stars align and sometimes they just don't. And if they don't, it's usually pretty recognizable to both parties. And there's very rarely, I mean, you certainly hear the stories both online and elsewhere of manager artists fallout, but by and large, I'm friends with every artist I've ever worked with, and I've never had a, I mean, I don't manage Bruce Hornsby anymore, but I just went backstage, went to his show and hung out with him after the show. And we talked about old times and had a good hang together. But there was a point in his career where I was and a point in my career where we just weren't at the same place, and I don't even mind sharing that. Yeah, please. He had been on RCA records for about 25 years, and the top brass at RCA was kind of changing, again, the revolving doors of executives at a record label, it was Tom. And so his life at RCA, his deal and relationship at RCA started to come to an end.And I was really, really, I had two other bands at RCA. I was sort of really inside the walls of RCA records at the time, and so I wasn't really best suited for the next step in his career, which was to find a new label, a New York based label. I was very much Nashville centric at that point, and it was just, we came to a place where I felt like for him to go where he needed to go, he needed somebody else, and he felt the same. AndMichael Jamin:It was, but that's another thing, because I see with my management, they have relationships at studios, and as you do have relationships and there, at the end of the day, you have your interests, and it is not like you're going to burn bridges with these studio that you have relationships with. You can only fight so much because of what you have with your other clients, right?Dave Rose:That's right. Yeah. It is probably like your business. It's a very small business at a certain level, a very small business. There's not a lot of, you're going to run into everybody again, and at some point you're going to want your act touring with their act, or you're going to want their act being featured on a record of your act. And if you burn bridges, it's just going to, I mean, I know people that do burn bridges, but it's rarely good.Michael Jamin:You are listening to, what the Hell is Michael Jamin talking about? Today's episode is brought to you by my new book, A Paper Orchestra, a collection of True Stories. John Mayer says, it's fantastic. It's multi timbral. It runs all levels of the pyramid at the same time. His knockout punches are stinging, sincerity, and Kirker View says, those who appreciate the power of simple stories to tell us about human nature or who are bewitched by a storyteller who has mastered his craft, will find a delightful collection of vignettes, a lovely anthology that strikes a perfect balance between humor and poignancy. So my podcast is not advertiser supported. I'm not running ads here. So if you'd like to support me or the podcast, come check out my book, go get an ebook or a paperback, or if you really want to treat yourself, check out the audio book. Go to michael jamin.com/book. And now back to our show.What is then the pinnacle for, I mean, we know what the pinnacle for an artist's career would be, whatever, selling a ton of records playing the Super Bowl, whatever they aspire to do, but what's the pinnacle for your career?Dave Rose:Oh, that's a great question. Yeah, it's interesting. I was taking my son to school the other day and he said, daddy, work seems like it's really fun, is work really fun. And he's come to my office before, and I got thinking about that, and I've chosen a path that really is fun. Never, this sounds corny to say I've never felt like I've worked a day in my life, really. It just really has never felt like work. I am so amazed that people pay me to do this. I was doing it long before I knew you could make money at it. And so the pinnacle for me is really that this continued joy of the business of music.There's very few high level artists, celebrities I haven't met or come in contact with. And so none of that is really the moment for me. It's seeing an act like this band formerly that we're looking at. They're a country act. They've had four or five number one hits. They were playing in their garage in Greenville, North Carolina, small town where I grew up. I happened to just know them, and I took them to Nashville, one thing. So that's sort of what this business is for me. You see a band in a garage, and the next thing you know, they're accepting an award on stage, and it's just a beautiful feeling to know that you've helped an artist achieve those dreams.Michael Jamin:Interesting. It's interesting that that's where you take the joy in. I would think that part, you're not the one who wants that dream. You're not the one, the artist. You're not the one who wants that dream, your dream joy doing it for others.Dave Rose:I would think there's similar satisfaction in being a writer, I would think. I mean, maybe you were motivated to be on screen all the time or in front of the camera all the time, butMichael Jamin:No, not really. No, not really. But I think writers are worried about their career. I want to write this, I want to make a lot of money or whatever.Dave Rose:Yeah. Well, the money certainly an enjoyable part of it, but it's not the driving factor, and it can't be in music, so risky.Michael Jamin:But you also, I guess, arrange entertainment events,Dave Rose:Right? Oh, wow. Yeah, that's very, you did your homework. Yeah, so around the turn of the century, so I live in Raleigh, North Carolina. I'm in Nashville almost weekly, but I live in Raleigh, North Carolina, and in Raleigh, North Carolina, there are not a lot of artists management or record labels. It's a big, very creative music city, but there's not a lot of high level. So as Raleigh started to feel like they needed entertainment in their city and started thinking about amphitheaters and growth and expansion of their city, they kind of came to me saying, you've had artists play in these cities all over the country. Could you help us bring the good bad and the ugly of that to Raleigh and help us produce events? So yeah, over the past 20 years have become the kind of go-to, I produced the North Carolina State Fair and all the big festivals,Michael Jamin:But you keep it to this one region, though.Dave Rose:I do. I pretty much stay in the central, the Eastern North Carolina region. And it's funny because when bands go out on tour, I'm managing bands. I learned from Bruce Hornsby one time. I called him, I'd always check in after the show, and how did it go and whatever. And he went and played one show somewhere, and I said, how was the show? And he said, he kind of laughed while I said this, but he said, I was staring at a funnel cake sign the whole time. WhatMichael Jamin:Does that mean?Dave Rose:Funnel cakes? So you're playing this car almost like a carnival. Not that there's anything wrong with that, and there's plenty of respect in funnel cakes, but as an artist who played in the Grateful Dead Done Jazz records, not really his thing. So I kind of made a joke of always keep the funnel cake stand a little bit away from the stage, but I took all of this feedback from artists, what the backstage was like, what the stage was like, what the PA was like, what the lights were like. I took all the good, bad and the ugly from the artist, and I brought it back to my community to try to make the best concerts and events.Michael Jamin:I imagine there was a huge, not just a learning curve, but also financial risk in the beginning for you. No,Dave Rose:Yeah, I racked up a lot of credit cards.Michael Jamin:Oh, really? I mean,Dave Rose:Oh yeah.Michael Jamin:Wow.Dave Rose:Yeah. One of my, yeah, I sure did. We started this company on a credit card, and that's what got us going. We produced CDs on credit card. We racked up a lot of credit card debt hoping this would win.Michael Jamin:What do you, and it's paid off.Dave Rose:It's paid off,Michael Jamin:Right?Dave Rose:I paid it off last week.Michael Jamin:Just last week. You made a final payment, you got points for it. But what advice then, do you have for, I guess, new artists? I mean, maybe either musicians or, I dunno, artists.Dave Rose:Yeah. I think the hardest thing to do, particularly in this world of TikTok and YouTube and reels, is to really be authentically you, because it's so easy to want to try to be the person that just went viral,And that's never going to move the needle. That's never going to make a big splash. You might have a moment, I don't know if you remember, maybe three or four months ago, there was an artist on TikTok named Oliver Anthony that went massively viral. He is a bearded guy from the mountains and kind of just sang very, very pure songs, but went enormously huge. And within weeks, you've got every mountain guy with a beard trying to do the same thing. And it's really hard to not do that. When we're faced with that all the time, back in the day of Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones and everything else, one didn't really know what the other was doing.Michael Jamin:SoDave Rose:You went into your bubble and you created art in a way that you felt led to do, and now you're so pressured to try to be the next viral thing, and that's the hardest thing. So my advice is don't do that.Michael Jamin:Yeah. You also, it's funny because I am a fan of your tiktoks. You give such interesting, great advice. You gave one post, this was maybe half a year or maybe a year ago, I don't know. And I was like, yes, I wanted to stitch it, but I guess I just didn't have the balls. And then I forgot about it. The post you did was, I guess a lot of people come to you for advice, and they just think they can just, Hey, you pick your brain or buy you a cup of coffee cup as if your time is worth $5 an hour, because that's what coffee costs. But you handled it very gracefully and graciously, but I'm not sure. Did you get any blowback for it?Dave Rose:Yeah. You're on TikTok, the blowback key. I mean, you definitely get, but by and large, by and large, what I ended up getting is it's been beautiful actually. Ever since then, I've got a lot of artists coming to me saying, look, I'm not going to offer to buy you a cup of coffee. I know how you feel about that, but I would like 30 minutes of your time, and how would I go about doing that? That's a beautiful way, I mean, I really picked this up from an attorney one time, and I was on the three-Way call with an artist, an attorney, and myself, and the artist said to the attorney, Hey, I got this contract and I don't really have a lot of money to spend, but I was hoping you could read it over and I could buy you a cup of coffee and pick your brainMichael Jamin:On it. Yeah. What did the attorney say?Dave Rose:And the attorney said, look, I understand you mean well, but I only have two things to sell. I've got my time and my knowledge, and you have just asked for both of those things for free.Michael Jamin:Yes. That's a good way of saying it.Dave Rose:And I just thought, wow. That's right. And as a manager, that's what you have. You got your time, your knowledge, and your connections. And if you're picking my brain, you are asking for those things for free. And I don't have anything else to feed my family with, butMichael Jamin:I wonder, is it because, because people ask me the same thing, and I guess it's because some people are actually giving it to them for free. Do you thinkDave Rose:It is? Yeah. I mean, they must be, or otherwise they wouldn't be doing it, I guess.Michael Jamin:But then I wonder if you're only paying $5 for advice, and that advice is only worth $5, I mean, why would you want to take $5 advice?Dave Rose:Right, exactly. Yeah. But yeah, that's been a tough part of the music business because yeah, so thanks for noticing that. But I do think we, as a sort of service society, whether you're a screenwriter or whether you're a manager or an agent or whatever, all people really have is what's in their head and their time. And so to take that so lightly is to think that buying you lunch is going to somehow make it worthwhile. It just doesn't, not only doesn't make sense in a strange way, it's rude.Michael Jamin:Well, I don't think it's strange. I mean, I do think it's rude. Yeah, yeah.Dave Rose:But as I said, I think in that TikTok, I said, I understand you're offering to buy me something. So I understand that you're trying to be in your own way, polite, but let me just educate you. That's not a compliment to say that your time is worth a cup of coffee.Michael Jamin:Yeah, yeah. But I appreciated that video. I really did. I was like, doDave Rose:You get a lot of people asking to pick your brain?Michael Jamin:Yes. I guess less and less, butDave Rose:You do some consulting as well, right?Michael Jamin:Well, what I did was eventually I signed up for, there's this app where you can sign up to be an expert. And so people ask me a question, sometimes it's an autoresponder, and it says, if you want to book time with Michael, you can do it. So here, a half a dozen people have booked. Everyone's asking, but no one books time. So to me, interesting. And I didn't do it because that's to make money, but I was like, well, look, if you want it, you're going to have to pay. But they don't want it bad enough to pay. So,Dave Rose:Well, it's interesting. I'm on a platform called August managers.io, and that's where I do my 30 minute consultations. And I've partially used it as a filter. It's funny, I'll get artists that go out and spend $10,000 on recording and $10,000 on video and photo shoots, and then they'll come to me and say, can I pick your brain for a cup of coffee? And I'm thinking, you have just spent $20,000 making music, and now the most important part, getting it out to the public, that's worth a cup of coffee to you. So I sort of use this platform as a filter. It's like Chemistry 1 0 1 in college. If you're willing to just invest a tiny bit to spend a little bit of time with a professional, I at least know you're serious.Michael Jamin:Yeah. That's how I see it as well. So you're weeding people out. They don't really want, yeah, I guess that's how unserious they are. If they're getting caught up on booking a half hour with me, then they don't really want,Dave Rose:I would think in your world, people want you to read their script, isMichael Jamin:That, oh, there's a lot of that, but you got to pay me way more than, I mean, here's the thing. I don't even do it, but they all want it. They want me to spend an hour and a half reading their script, another hour assembling notes, and then another hour on a phone call them giving them my notes while they get angry and defensive telling me why I'm wrong and do it for free. I mean, oh, yeah, okay. That sounds like a ball to me. But it's not about the money. The answer is no, all around. But it also exposes me to liability side because I don't want to be sued for taking someone's idea. SoDave Rose:Totally. I mean, that's a big part of the music business a lot. You'd hear about unsolicited music, and a lot of people, myself included, will not even open an email with music attached if I don't know who it is. Is itMichael Jamin:Because for liability reasons?Dave Rose:Yeah. TheyMichael Jamin:Think you're going to steal their sound or their song.Dave Rose:I think Yes. I think they do think that. And I think in the history of the music business, that has happened maybe three times. I mean, it just doesn't happen. Interesting. So it's funny that that's a topic even, I don't know if it happens in the film and TV business, but in the music business that anytime you've heard of a lawsuit of one suing the other about a sound, it's very, very rarely actual theft. Most often, there's only eight chords, and you can arrange them in only so many ways. And if you're in a genre like hip hop or country where it's in some ways a little bit of a formula in the way your pop music is that way, you write very narrow melodies and chord progressions. It's bound to your, I mean, about the a hundred thousand songs released a day, you're bound to cross paths there in a close manner. It's very rarely malicious.Michael Jamin:So then how are you listening to new music, if at all? Is it because you see an act on stage or something?Dave Rose:Yeah, no, I will listen to it if it's coming to me from a vetted source or if it's coming to me in a way that I feel. But I get a lot of just very blind emails, never met, seen, heard of the person. And one of my favorite quotes was Gene Simmons said one time, look, if I'm hearing about you for the first time from you, you're not ready.Michael Jamin:You're not ready. Interesting.Dave Rose:Because we keep our ears to the ground. I mean, I'm hearing about artists all the time. I mean, I can't go to the dentist without hearing about five new artists. People know that we work in the music business. So no matter where I go, the coffee shop, the dentist, the pizza shop, whatever, they're going to tell me about their cousin that just released a song. That's the next Beatles. So I hear about stuff, and if I hear about it from 7, 8, 9 different places, I start to know there's something there.Michael Jamin:Right. I directed Gene Simmons, by the way, on an animated show. I had to yell. NoDave Rose:Way.Michael Jamin:Well, yeah. Well, he came into the studio like a rockstar, which is what he is, of course. And then he is holding court and, Hey, dude, we're paying for this thing. And I knew I was going to get yelled at by my boss, so I had to say, Hey, gene, we're recording now. I had to tell shot him, get onto the microphone.Dave Rose:Oh, that's awesome. He is a really interesting person. I've met him a couple of times. I really am amazed by his story.Michael Jamin:That's funny. Chrissy Hy came in. My partner had to direct Chrissy, and she came in also like a rockstar into the booth, and she's smoking a cigarette and you're not supposed to with the equipment. And he asked her to put it out, and she wouldn't. And he was like, that's fine with me. Whatcha going to do?Dave Rose:I love it. She'sMichael Jamin:Chrissy Hein. She gets to do what she wants. But that's so interesting. Yeah. I get that same sometimes when people ask me a question and I wonder if you feel the same way about breaking into the business or some kind of basic thing. They leave a comment and I'm like, all you got to do is just scroll down and all my videos are labeled. You're going to find it. I wonder how bad you want it. If you feel like you have to ask me without looking. This is literally the least you have to do to find an answer nowadays.Dave Rose:I did a video recently where one of the most common questions I get is, somebody will present their music to me and they'll say, do you think I have what it takes to make it? And that is without question, the hardest question to answer because I don't know your definition of make it. And to be honest, a lot of people don't know their definition of make it. I had a band come into my office one time, they finally, they've been wanting to line up a meeting. They came in and they said, I said, so what do you guys want to do? What are you hoping to do? And they said, well, we want to be successful. You know what I mean? And I said, well, no, I don't know what you mean. Tell me what success means to you. And they said, well, we want to make a living at music.I said, well, that's good. I can have you doing that within 30 days. And they kind of looked at me like, wow. We hit the jackpot coming to this meeting, and I said, here's what we're going to do. We're going to buy you a bunch of tuxedos. You're going to learn some top 40 songs. We're going to play the wedding and corporate cover circuit, make a great living. They kind of looked at you and they were like, no, that's not what we meant. Okay, let me change that answer. We want to make a living playing our music. I said, alright. Little bit harder to do, but we can still do it. There's sports bars around the country where you set up in the corner and they don't really care what you play, your background music, but you make a pretty decent living. You'll make good tips.We're like, no, no. Lemme think about this. They thought about it for a little bit more and they said, okay, we got it. We want to be on the radio. Then one other guy spoke up and he said, playing our music. I said, okay, I got you, my friend does the Sunday night local show on the radio station. He's a friend of mine. He'll play anything I send him. I'll send him your song, he'll play it on Sunday. You will have been successful. And they like, all right. And one guy spoke up at that point and he said, I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to confuse us. I said, no, no, no. You're quite confused on your own I'm trying to do is point out that I can't help you until you know what you want. And there's no wrong answer to that. Some artists come to me and say, I want world domination. I want to be the next big, huge thing. And others simply say, I just want to make great music and I don't really care if I make a living. I just want good quality music out there.Michael Jamin:Is that right?Dave Rose:Oh yeah. PeopleMichael Jamin:Really do. But I imagine, I mean, you got to pay your bills. That's not attractive to you. Right?Dave Rose:It's not attractive to me and that's okay, but there's still a place for that in this world. But yeah, and here's the other thing. A lot of people think they want that world domination and playing arenas, but the moment we start saying things like, well, let's say a country artist came to me and they said, I want to be the biggest country star in the world. First thing out of my mouth would be, you're going to need to move to Nashville. You don't need to do that in every genre, but in country, that's a must be present To Win town, you're going to have to be in Nashville. Well, I don't really want to do that. I got this and a job and whatever. So I tell people all the time, prioritize where music is in your life. It doesn't have to be number one, but just knowing where it is will help you make decisions on what's most important. When I give advice to artists, I often ask them, do you have kids and are you married? And tell me about your personal life. The truth is, the advice I give to someone with a two month old baby at home is different than a single 21-year-old that can go out and explore the world.Michael Jamin:What do you think it is that people like me, Hollywood, what do I get? What do we get wrong about the music industry when we portray it on TV and film?Dave Rose:Oh wow. Well, it's funny because in every music based show, I used to watch the show Nashville, which was produced very well, and it was done in Nashville, so it had a lot of authenticity to it. But I think what I don't think you get it wrong, I think you have to portray it this way because that's the way TV is made. But you can go from in one episode writing a song to going on tour with Bon Jovi all within a week or two's time, what seems like a week or two's time in a film or TV show. And it's a laborious, long as you know from any aspect of entertainment, it's years before you start to take off from that runway. It's a several year runway, but I think the public as a result of just all of our short attention spans shows and even movies have to be written. So that what seems like in a couple of months, couple of weeks, sometimes you go from writing this song to touring with Beyonce.Michael Jamin:Why do you think, and I say this selfishly, I want to know for myself, why do you think the runways is so long before you take off? Why does that mean, why does it take so long?Dave Rose:Well, I think a lot of it is because writing music, like writing anything takes a lot of hours to get good at it.Michael Jamin:Okay, but let's say you got your album out and it's a great album now it's going to take years beforeDave Rose:No, no, no, no, no. It's going to take years to get that greatMichael Jamin:Album. Right. Okay.Dave Rose:Right. Once that great album is assembled and together, it can be a relatively, I mean, it can be a relatively short runway to success once that great in Nashville, there's a saying when somebody comes into me with a publisher and a publisher is someone who oversees the copyrights of songs, but when someone comes to me with a publisher and they say, how many songs have you written? No matter what the answer is, they almost always say, come back when you've written your next a hundred. Really, there's kind of an unwritten seven year rule in Nashville. You should not expect success for at least seven years after you come to townMichael Jamin:With your first album,Dave Rose:With your first set of releases. It just takes that long to get really, really top level good at this in any genre. I think, I mean, if there was a comment section on this podcast, there would be tons of people giving me the exceptions to those rules right now, which is the beauty of the music business or any entertainment. There's exceptions to that rule. There's overnight sensations, but by and large, most of the big artists had a long runway.Michael Jamin:So you're listening, if you were listening to an album by a new artist, you're thinking, okay, maybe one or two songs has got something in the rest are just not there. You're sayingDave Rose:Sometimes. Yeah, sometimes. I mean, you take a band, it's funny, that first hit, I worked with Sex and Candy, the band, Marcy Playground, between the time they rode and recorded that and it became a number one hit was four years.Michael Jamin:Okay,Dave Rose:Four years.Michael Jamin:Right. Okay. So they had the goods, but it took four years before people discovered they had the goods.Dave Rose:That's right. That was a very interesting journey. They charted on college radio and then they tried to work to regular radio. It didn't happen, and they label problems and they tried again and it finally happened. Same thing with this band, sixpence On The Richer and the song Kiss Me. They had that song Kiss Me on a Record, and it did not become a hit for another two years.Michael Jamin:Wow. Okay. So then how do they do that? Is it just touring? Is it just getting it out there? Just having people listen,Dave Rose:In the nineties it was touring. It was just getting out there and touringMichael Jamin:Even. Not today. You're saying today's it's not like that today.Dave Rose:It's not. I mean, it's some touring is one aspect of it, but the beauty of Michael, you and I would not be here talking if it were not for TikTok. And as much as I love to hate on social media platforms for all the reasons they're easy to hate on there is I tell our assist all the time. There is someone in Topeka, Kansas right now that loves what you do. You just got to find them. And if you do, there'll be fans for life. But unless you plan on touring Topeka, Kansas this week, you're not going to find 'em. So get online and postMichael Jamin:How many, I've heard numbers and I if it's true, but how many crazy, what's the word, rabid fans, do you need think a band needs before they hit critical mass?Dave Rose:Well, critical mass is a subjective term, but I say this a lot. You only need a thousand fans. And I'm talking about real fans. Fans that would give the shirt off their back fans. I'm not talking about followers,Michael Jamin:I'm notDave Rose:Talking about likes or subscribes,Michael Jamin:Right? People who open their wallet,Dave Rose:A thousand fans that consume everything you put out. That's all you need to make a great living in music.Michael Jamin:But how is that possible? Okay, so if you've had a thousand fans, they're scattered all across the country and I don't understand, how does that make you a good living? You can put it on a new album to a thousand fans. How does that make you a living?Dave Rose:I'll tell you how that is because when I was 10 years old, I had a older cousin, cousin Rick and I went to his house and he had a wall of vinyl records, more vinyl records than you could ever imagine. And he reached and he had got a new stereo and he wanted to show me the stereo, and he pulled up a Boston record, the classic rock band Boston. They had just put out their first record and he put it on the turntable and he was telling me everything he needed to tell me about Boston, and I was just mostly fascinated by the fact that of a thousand records on his wall, he picked that one to tell me about it. And from there I went and bought the record. I consumed, I bought the T-shirts, I bought this. The thing about a thousand fans is they're your marketing arms. A thousand fans are not going to keep your music close to their chest and keep it over here in the corner. They're going to tell everybody that'll possibly listen. And if you've got a fan that it gets in the car with their friends and they got three minutes to the next drive and a billion songs to choose from, they're going to choose yours. And that's going to turn those fans, those friends into fans. So it starts with a thousand core fans and you can really take over the world.Michael Jamin:I wonder, and again, I say this selfishly, I put out a book, and so this is the first venture. I've done solo

In our Season 2 finale of Fritanga, we dive into the world of flavors, humanity, self-care, and traditions with the culinary maestra who has captivated us through her delicious dishes and empowered thousands through her advocacy: Ingrid Hoffmann.  On the pod, host Antonio Tijerino explores Ingrid's multicultural upbringing, her journey into the culinary arts, and her experiences with Michelin-star restaurants. Along the way, Ingrid shares key lessons for aspiring entrepreneurs and discusses the power of food as a tool for advocacy and a bridge between cultures and generations. Ingrid's advocacy includes her incredible work for migrant farm workers through Justice for Migrant Women's Humans Who Feed Us Campaign.  About Ingrid:Ingrid Hoffmann is a professional eater, author, and host of Top Chef Estrellas(Telemundo), Simply Delicioso(Cooking Channel), and Delicioso(Univision). A recipient of the 2018 Hispanic Heritage Award for Culinary Arts, Ingrid is passionate about food policy, cooking & entertaining, and sharing her knowledge of food with her avid followers. Via her cookbooks, “chica tips,” and social media platforms, Ingrid spreads the word about “better for you” ingredients, implementing cooking habits, and thinking of food as medicine. Learn more about Ingird's work here. In need of healthy holiday recipes? Check out Ingrid's recipe database here. Follow Fritanga and the Hispanic Heritage Foundation Today!TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@hispanicheritage Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hispanicheritageFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/hispanicheritage/Twitter: https://twitter.com/hhfoundation Produced by Caandor Labs.   

Episode one hundred and sixty-seven of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “The Weight" by the Band, the Basement Tapes, and the continuing controversy over Dylan going electric. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a half-hour bonus episode available, on "S.F. Sorrow is Born" by the Pretty Things. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Also, a one-time request here -- Shawn Taylor, who runs the Facebook group for the podcast and is an old and dear friend of mine, has stage-three lung cancer. I will be hugely grateful to anyone who donates to the GoFundMe for her treatment. Errata At one point I say "when Robertson and Helm travelled to the Brill Building". I meant "when Hawkins and Helm". This is fixed in the transcript but not the recording. Resources There are three Mixcloud mixes this time. As there are so many songs by Bob Dylan and the Band excerpted, and Mixcloud won't allow more than four songs by the same artist in any mix, I've had to post the songs not in quite the same order in which they appear in the podcast. But the mixes are here — one, two, three. I've used these books for all the episodes involving Dylan: Dylan Goes Electric!: Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night That Split the Sixties by Elijah Wald, which is recommended, as all Wald's books are. Bob Dylan: All The Songs by Phillipe Margotin and Jean-Michel Guesdon is a song-by-song look at every song Dylan ever wrote, as is Revolution in the Air, by Clinton Heylin. Heylin also wrote the most comprehensive and accurate biography of Dylan, Behind the Shades. I've also used Robert Shelton's No Direction Home, which is less accurate, but which is written by someone who knew Dylan. Chronicles Volume 1 by Bob Dylan is a partial, highly inaccurate, but thoroughly readable autobiography. Information on Tiny Tim comes from Eternal Troubadour: The Improbable Life of Tiny Tim by Justin Martell. Information on John Cage comes from The Roaring Silence by David Revill Information on Woodstock comes from Small Town Talk by Barney Hoskyns. For material on the Basement Tapes, I've used Million Dollar Bash by Sid Griffin. And for the Band, I've used This Wheel's on Fire by Levon Helm with Stephen Davis, Testimony by Robbie Robertson, The Band by Craig Harris and Levon by Sandra B Tooze. I've also referred to the documentaries No Direction Home and Once Were Brothers. The complete Basement Tapes can be found on this multi-disc box set, while this double-CD version has the best material from the sessions. All the surviving live recordings by Dylan and the Hawks from 1966 are on this box set. There are various deluxe versions of Music From Big Pink, but still the best way to get the original album is in this twofer CD with the Band's second album. Transcript Just a brief note before I start – literally while I was in the middle of recording this episode, it was announced that Robbie Robertson had died today, aged eighty. Obviously I've not had time to alter the rest of the episode – half of which had already been edited – with that in mind, though I don't believe I say anything disrespectful to his memory. My condolences to those who loved him – he was a huge talent and will be missed. There are people in the world who question the function of criticism. Those people argue that criticism is in many ways parasitic. If critics knew what they were talking about, so the argument goes, they would create themselves, rather than talk about other people's creation. It's a variant of the "those who can't, teach" cliche. And to an extent it's true. Certainly in the world of rock music, which we're talking about in this podcast, most critics are quite staggeringly ignorant of the things they're talking about. Most criticism is ephemeral, published in newspapers, magazines, blogs and podcasts, and forgotten as soon as it has been consumed -- and consumed is the word . But sometimes, just sometimes, a critic will have an effect on the world that is at least as important as that of any of the artists they criticise. One such critic was John Ruskin. Ruskin was one of the preeminent critics of visual art in the Victorian era, particularly specialising in painting and architecture, and he passionately advocated for a form of art that would be truthful, plain, and honest. To Ruskin's mind, many artists of the past, and of his time, drew and painted, not what they saw with their own eyes, but what other people expected them to paint. They replaced true observation of nature with the regurgitation of ever-more-mannered and formalised cliches. His attacks on many great artists were, in essence, the same critiques that are currently brought against AI art apps -- they're just recycling and plagiarising what other people had already done, not seeing with their own eyes and creating from their own vision. Ruskin was an artist himself, but never received much acclaim for his own work. Rather, he advocated for the works of others, like Turner and the pre-Raphaelite school -- the latter of whom were influenced by Ruskin, even as he admired them for seeing with their own vision rather than just repeating influences from others. But those weren't the only people Ruskin influenced. Because any critical project, properly understood, becomes about more than just the art -- as if art is just anything. Ruskin, for example, studied geology, because if you're going to talk about how people should paint landscapes and what those landscapes look like, you need to understand what landscapes really do look like, which means understanding their formation. He understood that art of the kind he wanted could only be produced by certain types of people, and so society had to be organised in a way to produce such people. Some types of societal organisation lead to some kinds of thinking and creation, and to properly, honestly, understand one branch of human thought means at least to attempt to understand all of them. Opinions about art have moral consequences, and morality has political and economic consequences. The inevitable endpoint of any theory of art is, ultimately, a theory of society. And Ruskin had a theory of society, and social organisation. Ruskin's views are too complex to summarise here, but they were a kind of anarcho-primitivist collectivism. He believed that wealth was evil, and that the classical liberal economics of people like Mill was fundamentally anti-human, that the division of labour alienated people from their work. In Ruskin's ideal world, people would gather in communities no bigger than villages, and work as craftspeople, working with nature rather than trying to bend nature to their will. They would be collectives, with none richer or poorer than any other, and working the land without modern technology. in the first half of the twentieth century, in particular, Ruskin's influence was *everywhere*. His writings on art inspired the Impressionist movement, but his political and economic ideas were the most influential, right across the political spectrum. Ruskin's ideas were closest to Christian socialism, and he did indeed inspire many socialist parties -- most of the founders of Britain's Labour Party were admirers of Ruskin and influenced by his ideas, particularly his opposition to the free market. But he inspired many other people -- Gandhi talked about the profound influence that Ruskin had on him, saying in his autobiography that he got three lessons from Ruskin's Unto This Last: "That 1) the good of the individual is contained in the good of all. 2) a lawyer's work has the same value as the barber's in as much as all have the same right of earning their livelihood from their work. 3) a life of labour, i.e., the life of the tiller of the soil and the handicraftsman is the life worth living. The first of these I knew. The second I had dimly realized. The third had never occurred to me. Unto This Last made it clear as daylight for me that the second and third were contained in the first. I arose with the dawn, ready to reduce these principles to practice" Gandhi translated and paraphrased Unto this Last into Gujurati and called the resulting book Sarvodaya (meaning "uplifting all" or "the welfare of all") which he later took as the name of his own political philosophy. But Ruskin also had a more pernicious influence -- it was said in 1930s Germany that he and his friend Thomas Carlyle were "the first National Socialists" -- there's no evidence I know of that Hitler ever read Ruskin, but a *lot* of Nazi rhetoric is implicit in Ruskin's writing, particularly in his opposition to progress (he even opposed the bicycle as being too much inhuman interference with nature), just as much as more admirable philosophies, and he was so widely read in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that there's barely a political movement anywhere that didn't bear his fingerprints. But of course, our focus here is on music. And Ruskin had an influence on that, too. We've talked in several episodes, most recently the one on the Velvet Underground, about John Cage's piece 4'33. What I didn't mention in any of the discussions of that piece -- because I was saving it for here -- is that that piece was premiered at a small concert hall in upstate New York. The hall, the Maverick Concert Hall, was owned and run by the Maverick arts and crafts collective -- a collective that were so called because they were the *second* Ruskinite arts colony in the area, having split off from the Byrdcliffe colony after a dispute between its three founders, all of whom were disciples of Ruskin, and all of whom disagreed violently about how to implement Ruskin's ideas of pacifist all-for-one and one-for-all community. These arts colonies, and others that grew up around them like the Arts Students League were the thriving centre of a Bohemian community -- close enough to New York that you could get there if you needed to, far enough away that you could live out your pastoral fantasies, and artists of all types flocked there -- Pete Seeger met his wife there, and his father-in-law had been one of the stonemasons who helped build the Maverick concert hall. Dozens of artists in all sorts of areas, from Aaron Copland to Edward G Robinson, spent time in these communities, as did Cage. Of course, while these arts and crafts communities had a reputation for Bohemianism and artistic extremism, even radical utopian artists have their limits, and legend has it that the premiere of 4'33 was met with horror and derision, and eventually led to one artist in the audience standing up and calling on the residents of the town around which these artistic colonies had agglomerated: “Good people of Woodstock, let's drive these people out of town.” [Excerpt: The Band, "The Weight"] Ronnie Hawkins was almost born to make music. We heard back in the episode on "Suzie Q" in 2019 about his family and their ties to music. Ronnie's uncle Del was, according to most of the sources on the family, a member of the Sons of the Pioneers -- though as I point out in that episode, his name isn't on any of the official lists of group members, but he might well have performed with them at some point in the early years of the group. And he was definitely a country music bass player, even if he *wasn't* in the most popular country and western group of the thirties and forties. And Del had had two sons, Jerry, who made some minor rockabilly records: [Excerpt: Jerry Hawkins, "Swing, Daddy, Swing"] And Del junior, who as we heard in the "Susie Q" episode became known as Dale Hawkins and made one of the most important rock records of the fifties: [Excerpt: Dale Hawkins, "Susie Q"] Ronnie Hawkins was around the same age as his cousins, and was in awe of his country-music star uncle. Hawkins later remembered that after his uncle moved to Califormia to become a star “He'd come home for a week or two, driving a brand new Cadillac and wearing brand new clothes and I knew that's what I wanted to be." Though he also remembered “He spent every penny he made on whiskey, and he was divorced because he was running around with all sorts of women. His wife left Arkansas and went to Louisiana.” Hawkins knew that he wanted to be a music star like his uncle, and he started performing at local fairs and other events from the age of eleven, including one performance where he substituted for Hank Williams -- Williams was so drunk that day he couldn't perform, and so his backing band asked volunteers from the audience to get up and sing with them, and Hawkins sang Burl Ives and minstrel-show songs with the band. He said later “Even back then I knew that every important white cat—Al Jolson, Stephen Foster—they all did it by copying blacks. Even Hank Williams learned all the stuff he had from those black cats in Alabama. Elvis Presley copied black music; that's all that Elvis did.” As well as being a performer from an early age, though, Hawkins was also an entrepreneur with an eye for how to make money. From the age of fourteen he started running liquor -- not moonshine, he would always point out, but something far safer. He lived only a few miles from the border between Missouri and Arkansas, and alcohol and tobacco were about half the price in Missouri that they were in Arkansas, so he'd drive across the border, load up on whisky and cigarettes, and drive back and sell them at a profit, which he then used to buy shares in several nightclubs, which he and his bands would perform in in later years. Like every man of his generation, Hawkins had to do six months in the Army, and it was there that he joined his first ever full-time band, the Blackhawks -- so called because his name was Hawkins, and the rest of the group were Black, though Hawkins was white. They got together when the other four members were performing at a club in the area where Hawkins was stationed, and he was so impressed with their music that he jumped on stage and started singing with them. He said later “It sounded like something between the blues and rockabilly. It sort of leaned in both directions at the same time, me being a hayseed and those guys playing a lot funkier." As he put it "I wanted to sound like Bobby ‘Blue' Bland but it came out sounding like Ernest Tubb.” Word got around about the Blackhawks, both that they were a great-sounding rock and roll band and that they were an integrated band at a time when that was extremely unpopular in the southern states, and when Hawkins was discharged from the Army he got a call from Sam Phillips at Sun Records. According to Hawkins a group of the regular Sun session musicians were planning on forming a band, and he was asked to front the band for a hundred dollars a week, but by the time he got there the band had fallen apart. This doesn't precisely line up with anything else I know about Sun, though it perhaps makes sense if Hawkins was being asked to front the band who had variously backed Billy Lee Riley and Jerry Lee Lewis after one of Riley's occasional threats to leave the label. More likely though, he told everyone he knew that he had a deal with Sun but Phillips was unimpressed with the demos he cut there, and Hawkins made up the story to stop himself losing face. One of the session players for Sun, though, Luke Paulman, who played in Conway Twitty's band among others, *was* impressed with Hawkins though, and suggested that they form a band together with Paulman's bass player brother George and piano-playing cousin Pop Jones. The Paulman brothers and Jones also came from Arkansas, but they specifically came from Helena, Arkansas, the town from which King Biscuit Time was broadcast. King Biscuit Time was the most important blues radio show in the US at that time -- a short lunchtime programme which featured live performances from a house band which varied over the years, but which in the 1940s had been led by Sonny Boy Williamson II, and featured Robert Jr. Lockwood, Robert Johnson's stepson, on guiitar: [Excerpt: Sonny Boy Williamson II "Eyesight to the Blind (King Biscuit Time)"] The band also included a drummer, "Peck" Curtis, and that drummer was the biggest inspiration for a young white man from the town named Levon Helm. Helm had first been inspired to make music after seeing Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys play live when Helm was eight, and he had soon taken up first the harmonica, then the guitar, then the drums, becoming excellent at all of them. Even as a child he knew that he didn't want to be a farmer like his family, and that music was, as he put it, "the only way to get off that stinking tractor  and out of that one hundred and five degree heat.” Sonny Boy Williamson and the King Biscuit Boys would perform in the open air in Marvell, Arkansas, where Helm was growing up, on Saturdays, and Helm watched them regularly as a small child, and became particularly interested in the drumming. “As good as the band sounded,” he said later “it seemed that [Peck] was definitely having the most fun. I locked into the drums at that point. Later, I heard Jack Nance, Conway Twitty's drummer, and all the great drummers in Memphis—Jimmy Van Eaton, Al Jackson, and Willie Hall—the Chicago boys (Fred Belew and Clifton James) and the people at Sun Records and Vee-Jay, but most of my style was based on Peck and Sonny Boy—the Delta blues style with the shuffle. Through the years, I've quickened the pace to a more rock-and-roll meter and time frame, but it still bases itself back to Peck, Sonny Boy Williamson, and the King Biscuit Boys.” Helm had played with another band that George Paulman had played in, and he was invited to join the fledgling band Hawkins was putting together, called for the moment the Sun Records Quartet. The group played some of the clubs Hawkins had business connections in, but they had other plans -- Conway Twitty had recently played Toronto, and had told Luke Paulman about how desperate the Canadians were for American rock and roll music. Twitty's agent Harold Kudlets booked the group in to a Toronto club, Le Coq D'Or, and soon the group were alternating between residencies in clubs in the Deep South, where they were just another rockabilly band, albeit one of the better ones, and in Canada, where they became the most popular band in Ontario, and became the nucleus of an entire musical scene -- the same scene from which, a few years later, people like Neil Young would emerge. George Paulman didn't remain long in the group -- he was apparently getting drunk, and also he was a double-bass player, at a time when the electric bass was becoming the in thing. And this is the best place to mention this, but there are several discrepancies in the various accounts of which band members were in Hawkins' band at which times, and who played on what session. They all *broadly* follow the same lines, but none of them are fully reconcilable with each other, and nobody was paying enough attention to lineup shifts in a bar band between 1957 and 1964 to be absolutely certain who was right. I've tried to reconcile the various accounts as far as possible and make a coherent narrative, but some of the details of what follows may be wrong, though the broad strokes are correct. For much of their first period in Ontario, the group had no bass player at all, relying on Jones' piano to fill in the bass parts, and on their first recording, a version of "Bo Diddley", they actually got the club's manager to play bass with them: [Excerpt: Ronnie Hawkins, "Hey Bo Diddley"] That is claimed to be the first rock and roll record made in Canada, though as everyone who has listened to this podcast knows, there's no first anything. It wasn't released as by the Sun Records Quartet though -- the band had presumably realised that that name would make them much less attractive to other labels, and so by this point the Sun Records Quartet had become Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks. "Hey Bo Diddley" was released on a small Canadian label and didn't have any success, but the group carried on performing live, travelling back down to Arkansas for a while and getting a new bass player, Lefty Evans, who had been playing in the same pool of musicians as them, having been another Sun session player who had been in Conway Twitty's band, and had written Twitty's "Why Can't I Get Through to You": [Excerpt: Conway Twitty, "Why Can't I Get Through to You"] The band were now popular enough in Canada that they were starting to get heard of in America, and through Kudlets they got a contract with Joe Glaser, a Mafia-connected booking agent who booked them into gigs on the Jersey Shore. As Helm said “Ronnie Hawkins had molded us into the wildest, fiercest, speed-driven bar band in America," and the group were apparently getting larger audiences in New Jersey than Sammy Davis Jr was, even though they hadn't released any records in the US. Or at least, they hadn't released any records in their own name in the US. There's a record on End Records by Rockin' Ronald and the Rebels which is very strongly rumoured to have been the Hawks under another name, though Hawkins always denied that. Have a listen for yourself and see what you think: [Excerpt: Rockin' Ronald and the Rebels, "Kansas City"] End Records, the label that was on, was one of the many record labels set up by George Goldner and distributed by Morris Levy, and when the group did release a record in their home country under their own name, it was on Levy's Roulette Records. An audition for Levy had been set up by Glaser's booking company, and Levy decided that given that Elvis was in the Army, there was a vacancy to be filled and Ronnie Hawkins might just fit the bill. Hawkins signed a contract with Levy, and it doesn't sound like he had much choice in the matter. Helm asked him “How long did you have to sign for?” and Hawkins replied "Life with an option" That said, unlike almost every other artist who interacted with Levy, Hawkins never had a bad word to say about him, at least in public, saying later “I don't care what Morris was supposed to have done, he looked after me and he believed in me. I even lived with him in his million-dollar apartment on the Upper East Side." The first single the group recorded for Roulette, a remake of Chuck Berry's "Thirty Days" retitled "Forty Days", didn't chart, but the follow-up, a version of Young Jessie's "Mary Lou", made number twenty-six on the charts: [Excerpt: Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks, "Mary Lou"] While that was a cover of a Young Jessie record, the songwriting credits read Hawkins and Magill -- Magill was a pseudonym used by Morris Levy. Levy hoped to make Ronnie Hawkins into a really big star, but hit a snag. This was just the point where the payola scandal had hit and record companies were under criminal investigation for bribing DJs to play their records. This was the main method of promotion that Levy used, and this was so well known that Levy was, for a time, under more scrutiny than anyone. He couldn't risk paying anyone off, and so Hawkins' records didn't get the expected airplay. The group went through some lineup changes, too, bringing in guitarist Fred Carter (with Luke Paulman moving to rhythm and soon leaving altogether)  from Hawkins' cousin Dale's band, and bass player Jimmy Evans. Some sources say that Jones quit around this time, too, though others say he was in the band for  a while longer, and they had two keyboards (the other keyboard being supplied by Stan Szelest. As well as recording Ronnie Hawkins singles, the new lineup of the group also recorded one single with Carter on lead vocals, "My Heart Cries": [Excerpt: Fred Carter, "My Heart Cries"] While the group were now playing more shows in the USA, they were still playing regularly in Canada, and they had developed a huge fanbase there. One of these was a teenage guitarist called Robbie Robertson, who had become fascinated with the band after playing a support slot for them, and had started hanging round, trying to ingratiate himself with the band in the hope of being allowed to join. As he was a teenager, Hawkins thought he might have his finger on the pulse of the youth market, and when Hawkins and Helm travelled to the Brill Building to hear new songs for consideration for their next album, they brought Robertson along to listen to them and give his opinion. Robertson himself ended up contributing two songs to the album, titled Mr. Dynamo. According to Hawkins "we had a little time after the session, so I thought, Well, I'm just gonna put 'em down and see what happens. And they were released. Robbie was the songwriter for words, and Levon was good for arranging, making things fit in and all that stuff. He knew what to do, but he didn't write anything." The two songs in question were "Someone Like You" and "Hey Boba Lou": [Excerpt: Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks, "Hey Boba Lou"] While Robertson was the sole writer of the songs, they were credited to Robertson, Hawkins, and Magill -- Morris Levy. As Robertson told the story later, “It's funny, when those songs came out and I got a copy of the album, it had another name on there besides my name for some writer like Morris Levy. So, I said to Ronnie, “There was nobody there writing these songs when I wrote these songs. Who is Morris Levy?” Ronnie just kinda tapped me on the head and said, “There are certain things about this business that you just let go and you don't question.” That was one of my early music industry lessons right there" Robertson desperately wanted to join the Hawks, but initially it was Robertson's bandmate Scott Cushnie who became the first Canadian to join the Hawks. But then when they were in Arkansas, Jimmy Evans decided he wasn't going to go back to Canada. So Hawkins called Robbie Robertson up and made him an offer. Robertson had to come down to Arkansas and get a couple of quick bass lessons from Helm (who could play pretty much every instrument to an acceptable standard, and so was by this point acting as the group's musical director, working out arrangements and leading them in rehearsals). Then Hawkins and Helm had to be elsewhere for a few weeks. If, when they got back, Robertson was good enough on bass, he had the job. If not, he didn't. Robertson accepted, but he nearly didn't get the gig after all. The place Hawkins and Helm had to be was Britain, where they were going to be promoting their latest single on Boy Meets Girls, the Jack Good TV series with Marty Wilde, which featured guitarist Joe Brown in the backing band: [Excerpt: Joe Brown, “Savage”] This was the same series that Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent were regularly appearing on, and while they didn't appear on the episodes that Hawkins and Helm appeared on, they did appear on the episodes immediately before Hawkins and Helm's two appearances, and again a couple of weeks after, and were friendly with the musicians who did play with Hawkins and Helm, and apparently they all jammed together a few times. Hawkins was impressed enough with Joe Brown -- who at the time was considered the best guitarist on the British scene -- that he invited Brown to become a Hawk. Presumably if Brown had taken him up on the offer, he would have taken the spot that ended up being Robertson's, but Brown turned him down -- a decision he apparently later regretted. Robbie Robertson was now a Hawk, and he and Helm formed an immediate bond. As Helm much later put it, "It was me and Robbie against the world. Our mission, as we saw it, was to put together the best band in history". As rockabilly was by this point passe, Levy tried converting Hawkins into a folk artist, to see if he could get some of the Kingston Trio's audience. He recorded a protest song, "The Ballad of Caryl Chessman", protesting the then-forthcoming execution of Chessman (one of only a handful of people to be executed in the US in recent decades for non-lethal offences), and he made an album of folk tunes, The Folk Ballads of Ronnie Hawkins, which largely consisted of solo acoustic recordings, plus a handful of left-over Hawks recordings from a year or so earlier. That wasn't a success, but they also tried a follow-up, having Hawkins go country and do an album of Hank Williams songs, recorded in Nashville at Owen Bradley's Quonset hut. While many of the musicians on the album were Nashville A-Team players, Hawkins also insisted on having his own band members perform, much to the disgust of the producer, and so it's likely (not certain, because there seem to be various disagreements about what was recorded when) that that album features the first studio recordings with Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson playing together: [Excerpt: Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks, "Your Cheatin' Heart"] Other sources claim that the only Hawk allowed to play on the album sessions was Helm, and that the rest of the musicians on the album were Harold Bradley and Hank Garland on guitar, Owen Bradley and Floyd Cramer on piano, Bob Moore on bass, and the Anita Kerr singers. I tend to trust Helm's recollection that the Hawks played at least some of the instruments though, because the source claiming that also seems to confuse the Hank Williams and Folk Ballads albums, and because I don't hear two pianos on the album. On the other hand, that *does* sound like Floyd Cramer on piano, and the tik-tok bass sound you'd get from having Harold Bradley play a baritone guitar while Bob Moore played a bass. So my best guess is that these sessions were like the Elvis sessions around the same time and with several of the same musicians, where Elvis' own backing musicians played rhythm parts but left the prominent instruments to the A-team players. Helm was singularly unimpressed with the experience of recording in Nashville. His strongest memory of the sessions was of another session going on in the same studio complex at the time -- Bobby "Blue" Bland was recording his classic single "Turn On Your Love Light", with the great drummer Jabo Starks on drums, and Helm was more interested in listening to that than he was in the music they were playing: [Excerpt: Bobby "Blue" Bland, "Turn On Your Love Light"] Incidentally, Helm talks about that recording being made "downstairs" from where the Hawks were recording, but also says that they were recording in Bradley's Quonset hut.  Now, my understanding here *could* be very wrong -- I've been unable to find a plan or schematic anywhere -- but my understanding is that the Quonset hut was a single-level structure, not a multi-level structure. BUT the original recording facilities run by the Bradley brothers were in Owen Bradley's basement, before they moved into the larger Quonset hut facility in the back, so it's possible that Bland was recording that in the old basement studio. If so, that won't be the last recording made in a basement we hear this episode... Fred Carter decided during the Nashville sessions that he was going to leave the Hawks. As his son told the story: "Dad had discovered the session musicians there. He had no idea that you could play and make a living playing in studios and sleep in your own bed every night. By that point in his life, he'd already been gone from home and constantly on the road and in the service playing music for ten years so that appealed to him greatly. And Levon asked him, he said, “If you're gonna leave, Fred, I'd like you to get young Robbie over here up to speed on guitar”…[Robbie] got kind of aggravated with him—and Dad didn't say this with any malice—but by the end of that week, or whatever it was, Robbie made some kind of comment about “One day I'm gonna cut you.” And Dad said, “Well, if that's how you think about it, the lessons are over.” " (For those who don't know, a musician "cutting" another one is playing better than them, so much better that the worse musician has to concede defeat. For the remainder of Carter's notice in the Hawks, he played with his back to Robertson, refusing to look at him. Carter leaving the group caused some more shuffling of roles. For a while, Levon Helm -- who Hawkins always said was the best lead guitar player he ever worked with as well as the best drummer -- tried playing lead guitar while Robertson played rhythm and another member, Rebel Payne, played bass, but they couldn't find a drummer to replace Helm, who moved back onto the drums. Then they brought in Roy Buchanan, another guitarist who had been playing with Dale Hawkins, having started out playing with Johnny Otis' band. But Buchanan didn't fit with Hawkins' personality, and he quit after a few months, going off to record his own first solo record: [Excerpt: Roy Buchanan, "Mule Train Stomp"] Eventually they solved the lineup problem by having Robertson -- by this point an accomplished lead player --- move to lead guitar and bringing in a new rhythm player, another Canadian teenager named Rick Danko, who had originally been a lead player (and who also played mandolin and fiddle). Danko wasn't expected to stay on rhythm long though -- Rebel Payne was drinking a lot and missing being at home when he was out on the road, so Danko was brought in on the understanding that he was to learn Payne's bass parts and switch to bass when Payne quit. Helm and Robertson were unsure about Danko, and Robertson expressed that doubt, saying "He only knows four chords," to which Hawkins replied, "That's all right son. You can teach him four more the way we had to teach you." He proved himself by sheer hard work. As Hawkins put it “He practiced so much that his arms swoll up. He was hurting.” By the time Danko switched to bass, the group also had a baritone sax player, Jerry Penfound, which allowed the group to play more of the soul and R&B material that Helm and Robertson favoured, though Hawkins wasn't keen. This new lineup of the group (which also had Stan Szelest on piano) recorded Hawkins' next album. This one was produced by Henry Glover, the great record producer, songwriter, and trumpet player who had played with Lucky Millinder, produced Wynonie Harris, Hank Ballard, and Moon Mullican, and wrote "Drowning in My Own Tears", "The Peppermint Twist", and "California Sun". Glover was massively impressed with the band, especially Helm (with whom he would remain friends for the rest of his life) and set aside some studio time for them to cut some tracks without Hawkins, to be used as album filler, including a version of the Bobby "Blue" Bland song "Farther On Up the Road" with Helm on lead vocals: [Excerpt: Levon Helm and the Hawks, "Farther On Up the Road"] There were more changes on the way though. Stan Szelest was about to leave the band, and Jones had already left, so the group had no keyboard player. Hawkins had just the replacement for Szelest -- yet another Canadian teenager. This one was Richard Manuel, who played piano and sang in a band called The Rockin' Revols. Manuel was not the greatest piano player around -- he was an adequate player for simple rockabilly and R&B stuff, but hardly a virtuoso -- but he was an incredible singer, able to do a version of "Georgia on My Mind" which rivalled Ray Charles, and Hawkins had booked the Revols into his own small circuit of clubs around Arkanasas after being impressed with them on the same bill as the Hawks a couple of times. Hawkins wanted someone with a good voice because he was increasingly taking a back seat in performances. Hawkins was the bandleader and frontman, but he'd often given Helm a song or two to sing in the show, and as they were often playing for several hours a night, the more singers the band had the better. Soon, with Helm, Danko, and Manuel all in the group and able to take lead vocals, Hawkins would start missing entire shows, though he still got more money than any of his backing group. Hawkins was also a hard taskmaster, and wanted to have the best band around. He already had great musicians, but he wanted them to be *the best*. And all the musicians in his band were now much younger than him, with tons of natural talent, but untrained. What he needed was someone with proper training, someone who knew theory and technique. He'd been trying for a long time to get someone like that, but Garth Hudson had kept turning him down. Hudson was older than any of the Hawks, though younger than Hawkins, and he was a multi-instrumentalist who was far better than any other musician on the circuit, having trained in a conservatory and learned how to play Bach and Chopin before switching to rock and roll. He thought the Hawks were too loud sounding and played too hard for him, but Helm kept on at Hawkins to meet any demands Hudson had, and Hawkins eventually agreed to give Hudson a higher wage than any of the other band members, buy him a new Lowry organ, and give him an extra ten dollars a week to give the rest of the band music lessons. Hudson agreed, and the Hawks now had a lineup of Helm on drums, Robertson on guitar, Manuel on piano, Danko on bass, Hudson on organ and alto sax, and Penfound on baritone sax. But these new young musicians were beginning to wonder why they actually needed a frontman who didn't turn up to many of the gigs, kept most of the money, and fined them whenever they broke one of his increasingly stringent set of rules. Indeed, they wondered why they needed a frontman at all. They already had three singers -- and sometimes a fourth, a singer called Bruce Bruno who would sometimes sit in with them when Penfound was unable to make a gig. They went to see Harold Kudlets, who Hawkins had recently sacked as his manager, and asked him if he could get them gigs for the same amount of money as they'd been getting with Hawkins. Kudlets was astonished to find how little Hawkins had been paying them, and told them that would be no problem at all. They had no frontman any more -- and made it a rule in all their contracts that the word "sideman" would never be used -- but Helm had been the leader for contractual purposes, as the musical director and longest-serving member (Hawkins, as a non-playing singer, had never joined the Musicians' Union so couldn't be the leader on contracts). So the band that had been Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks became the Levon Helm Sextet briefly -- but Penfound soon quit, and they became Levon and the Hawks. The Hawks really started to find their identity as their own band in 1964. They were already far more interested in playing soul than Hawkins had been, but they were also starting to get into playing soul *jazz*, especially after seeing the Cannonball Adderley Sextet play live: [Excerpt: Cannonball Adderley, "This Here"] What the group admired about the Adderley group more than anything else was a sense of restraint. Helm was particularly impressed with their drummer, Louie Hayes, and said of him "I got to see some great musicians over the years, and you see somebody like that play and you can tell, y' know, that the thing not to do is to just get it down on the floor and stomp the hell out of it!" The other influence they had, and one which would shape their sound even more, was a negative one. The two biggest bands on the charts at the time were the Beatles and the Beach Boys, and as Helm described it in his autobiography, the Hawks thought both bands' harmonies were "a blend of pale, homogenised, voices". He said "We felt we were better than the Beatles and the Beach Boys. We considered them our rivals, even though they'd never heard of us", and they decided to make their own harmonies sound as different as possible as a result. Where those groups emphasised a vocal blend, the Hawks were going to emphasise the *difference* in their voices in their own harmonies. The group were playing prestigious venues like the Peppermint Lounge, and while playing there they met up with John Hammond Jr, who they'd met previously in Canada. As you might remember from the first episode on Bob Dylan, Hammond Jr was the son of the John Hammond who we've talked about in many episodes, and was a blues musician in his own right. He invited Helm, Robertson, and Hudson to join the musicians, including Michael Bloomfield, who were playing on his new album, So Many Roads: [Excerpt: John P. Hammond, "Who Do You Love?"] That album was one of the inspirations that led Bob Dylan to start making electric rock music and to hire Bloomfield as his guitarist, decisions that would have profound implications for the Hawks. The first single the Hawks recorded for themselves after leaving Hawkins was produced by Henry Glover, and both sides were written by Robbie Robertson. "uh Uh Uh" shows the influence of the R&B bands they were listening to. What it reminds me most of is the material Ike and Tina Turner were playing at the time, but at points I think I can also hear the influence of Curtis Mayfield and Steve Cropper, who were rapidly becoming Robertson's favourite songwriters: [Excerpt: The Canadian Squires, "Uh Uh Uh"] None of the band were happy with that record, though. They'd played in the studio the same way they played live, trying to get a strong bass presence, but it just sounded bottom-heavy to them when they heard the record on a jukebox. That record was released as by The Canadian Squires -- according to Robertson, that was a name that the label imposed on them for the record, while according to Helm it was an alternative name they used so they could get bookings in places they'd only recently played, which didn't want the same band to play too often. One wonders if there was any confusion with the band Neil Young played in a year or so before that single... Around this time, the group also met up with Helm's old musical inspiration Sonny Boy Williamson II, who was impressed enough with them that there was some talk of them being his backing band (and it was in this meeting that Williamson apparently told Robertson "those English boys want to play the blues so bad, and they play the blues *so bad*", speaking of the bands who'd backed him in the UK, like the Yardbirds and the Animals). But sadly, Williamson died in May 1965 before any of these plans had time to come to fruition. Every opportunity for the group seemed to be closing up, even as they knew they were as good as any band around them. They had an offer from Aaron Schroeder, who ran Musicor Records but was more importantly a songwriter and publisher who  had written for Elvis Presley and published Gene Pitney. Schroeder wanted to sign the Hawks as a band and Robertson as a songwriter, but Henry Glover looked over the contracts for them, and told them "If you sign this you'd better be able to pay each other, because nobody else is going to be paying you". What happened next is the subject of some controversy, because as these things tend to go, several people became aware of the Hawks at the same time, but it's generally considered that nothing would have happened the same way were it not for Mary Martin. Martin is a pivotal figure in music business history -- among other things she discovered Leonard Cohen and Gordon Lightfoot, managed Van Morrison, and signed Emmylou Harris to Warner Brothers records -- but a somewhat unknown one who doesn't even have a Wikipedia page. Martin was from Toronto, but had moved to New York, where she was working in Albert Grossman's office, but she still had many connections to Canadian musicians and kept an eye out for them. The group had sent demo tapes to Grossman's offices, and Grossman had had no interest in them, but Martin was a fan and kept pushing the group on Grossman and his associates. One of those associates, of course, was Grossman's client Bob Dylan. As we heard in the episode on "Like a Rolling Stone", Dylan had started making records with electric backing, with musicians who included Mike Bloomfield, who had played with several of the Hawks on the Hammond album, and Al Kooper, who was a friend of the band. Martin gave Richard Manuel a copy of Dylan's new electric album Highway 61 Revisited, and he enjoyed it, though the rest of the group were less impressed: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Highway 61 Revisited"] Dylan had played the Newport Folk Festival with some of the same musicians as played on his records, but Bloomfield in particular was more interested in continuing to play with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band than continuing with Dylan long-term. Mary Martin kept telling Dylan about this Canadian band she knew who would be perfect for him, and various people associated with the Grossman organisation, including Hammond, have claimed to have been sent down to New Jersey where the Hawks were playing to check them out in their live setting. The group have also mentioned that someone who looked a lot like Dylan was seen at some of their shows. Eventually, Dylan phoned Helm up and made an offer. He didn't need a full band at the moment -- he had Harvey Brooks on bass and Al Kooper on keyboards -- but he did need a lead guitar player and drummer for a couple of gigs he'd already booked, one in Forest Hills, New York, and a bigger gig at the Hollywood Bowl. Helm, unfamiliar with Dylan's work, actually asked Howard Kudlets if Dylan was capable of filling the Hollywood Bowl. The musicians rehearsed together and got a set together for the shows. Robertson and Helm thought the band sounded terrible, but Dylan liked the sound they were getting a lot. The audience in Forest Hills agreed with the Hawks, rather than Dylan, or so it would appear. As we heard in the "Like a Rolling Stone" episode, Dylan's turn towards rock music was *hated* by the folk purists who saw him as some sort of traitor to the movement, a movement whose figurehead he had become without wanting to. There were fifteen thousand people in the audience, and they listened politely enough to the first set, which Dylan played acoustically, But before the second set -- his first ever full electric set, rather than the very abridged one at Newport -- he told the musicians “I don't know what it will be like out there It's going to be some kind of  carnival and I want you to all know that up front. So go out there and keep playing no matter how weird it gets!” There's a terrible-quality audience recording of that show in circulation, and you can hear the crowd's reaction to the band and to the new material: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Ballad of a Thin Man" (live Forest Hills 1965, audience noise only)] The audience also threw things  at the musicians, knocking Al Kooper off his organ stool at one point. While Robertson remembered the Hollywood Bowl show as being an equally bad reaction, Helm remembered the audience there as being much more friendly, and the better-quality recording of that show seems to side with Helm: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Maggie's Farm (live at the Hollywood Bowl 1965)"] After those two shows, Helm and Robertson went back to their regular gig. and in September they made another record. This one, again produced by Glover, was for Atlantic's Atco subsidiary, and was released as by Levon and the Hawks. Manuel took lead, and again both songs were written by Robertson: [Excerpt: Levon and the Hawks, "He Don't Love You (And He'll Break Your Heart)"] But again that record did nothing. Dylan was about to start his first full electric tour, and while Helm and Robertson had not thought the shows they'd played sounded particularly good, Dylan had, and he wanted the two of them to continue with him. But Robertson and, especially, Helm, were not interested in being someone's sidemen. They explained to Dylan that they already had a band -- Levon and the Hawks -- and he would take all of them or he would take none of them. Helm in particular had not been impressed with Dylan's music -- Helm was fundamentally an R&B fan, while Dylan's music was rooted in genres he had little time for -- but he was OK with doing it, so long as the entire band got to. As Mary Martin put it “I think that the wonderful and the splendid heart of the band, if you will, was Levon, and I think he really sort of said, ‘If it's just myself as drummer and Robbie…we're out. We don't want that. It's either us, the band, or nothing.' And you know what? Good for him.” Rather amazingly, Dylan agreed. When the band's residency in New Jersey finished, they headed back to Toronto to play some shows there, and Dylan flew up and rehearsed with them after each show. When the tour started, the billing was "Bob Dylan with Levon and the Hawks". That billing wasn't to last long. Dylan had been booked in for nine months of touring, and was also starting work on what would become widely considered the first double album in rock music history, Blonde on Blonde, and the original plan was that Levon and the Hawks would play with him throughout that time.  The initial recording sessions for the album produced nothing suitable for release -- the closest was "I Wanna Be Your Lover", a semi-parody of the Beatles' "I Want to be Your Man": [Excerpt: Bob Dylan with Levon and the Hawks, "I Wanna Be Your Lover"] But shortly into the tour, Helm quit. The booing had continued, and had even got worse, and Helm simply wasn't in the business to be booed at every night. Also, his whole conception of music was that you dance to it, and nobody was dancing to any of this. Helm quit the band, only telling Robertson of his plans, and first went off to LA, where he met up with some musicians from Oklahoma who had enjoyed seeing the Hawks when they'd played that state and had since moved out West -- people like Leon Russell, J.J. Cale (not John Cale of the Velvet Underground, but the one who wrote "Cocaine" which Eric Clapton later had a hit with), and John Ware (who would later go on to join the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band). They started loosely jamming with each other, sometimes also involving a young singer named Linda Ronstadt, but Helm eventually decided to give up music and go and work on an oil rig in New Orleans. Levon and the Hawks were now just the Hawks. The rest of the group soldiered on, replacing Helm with session drummer Bobby Gregg (who had played on Dylan's previous couple of albums, and had previously played with Sun Ra), and played on the initial sessions for Blonde on Blonde. But of those sessions, Dylan said a few weeks later "Oh, I was really down. I mean, in ten recording sessions, man, we didn't get one song ... It was the band. But you see, I didn't know that. I didn't want to think that" One track from the sessions did get released -- the non-album single "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?" [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?"] There's some debate as to exactly who's playing drums on that -- Helm says in his autobiography that it's him, while the credits in the official CD releases tend to say it's Gregg. Either way, the track was an unexpected flop, not making the top forty in the US, though it made the top twenty in the UK. But the rest of the recordings with the now Helmless Hawks were less successful. Dylan was trying to get his new songs across, but this was a band who were used to playing raucous music for dancing, and so the attempts at more subtle songs didn't come off the way he wanted: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan and the Hawks, "Visions of Johanna (take 5, 11-30-1965)"] Only one track from those initial New York sessions made the album -- "One Of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)" -- but even that only featured Robertson and Danko of the Hawks, with the rest of the instruments being played by session players: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan (One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)"] The Hawks were a great live band, but great live bands are not necessarily the same thing as a great studio band. And that's especially the case with someone like Dylan. Dylan was someone who was used to recording entirely on his own, and to making records *quickly*. In total, for his fifteen studio albums up to 1974's Blood on the Tracks, Dylan spent a total of eighty-six days in the studio -- by comparison, the Beatles spent over a hundred days in the studio just on the Sgt Pepper album. It's not that the Hawks weren't a good band -- very far from it -- but that studio recording requires a different type of discipline, and that's doubly the case when you're playing with an idiosyncratic player like Dylan. The Hawks would remain Dylan's live backing band, but he wouldn't put out a studio recording with them backing him until 1974. Instead, Bob Johnston, the producer Dylan was working with, suggested a different plan. On his previous album, the Nashville session player Charlie McCoy had guested on "Desolation Row" and Dylan had found him easy to work with. Johnston lived in Nashville, and suggested that they could get the album completed more quickly and to Dylan's liking by using Nashville A-Team musicians. Dylan agreed to try it, and for the rest of the album he had Robertson on lead guitar and Al Kooper on keyboards, but every other musician was a Nashville session player, and they managed to get Dylan's songs recorded quickly and the way he heard them in his head: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine"] Though Dylan being Dylan he did try to introduce an element of randomness to the recordings by having the Nashville musicians swap their instruments around and play each other's parts on "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35", though the Nashville players were still competent enough that they managed to get a usable, if shambolic, track recorded that way in a single take: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35"] Dylan said later of the album "The closest I ever got to the sound I hear in my mind was on individual bands in the Blonde on Blonde album. It's that thin, that wild mercury sound. It's metallic and bright gold, with whatever that conjures up." The album was released in late June 1966, a week before Freak Out! by the Mothers of Invention, another double album, produced by Dylan's old producer Tom Wilson, and a few weeks after Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys. Dylan was at the forefront of a new progressive movement in rock music, a movement that was tying thoughtful, intelligent lyrics to studio experimentation and yet somehow managing to have commercial success. And a month after Blonde on Blonde came out, he stepped away from that position, and would never fully return to it. The first half of 1966 was taken up with near-constant touring, with Dylan backed by the Hawks and a succession of fill-in drummers -- first Bobby Gregg, then Sandy Konikoff, then Mickey Jones. This tour started in the US and Canada, with breaks for recording the album, and then moved on to Australia and Europe. The shows always followed the same pattern. First Dylan would perform an acoustic set, solo, with just an acoustic guitar and harmonica, which would generally go down well with the audience -- though sometimes they would get restless, prompting a certain amount of resistance from the performer: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Just Like a Woman (live Paris 1966)"] But the second half of each show was electric, and that was where the problems would arise. The Hawks were playing at the top of their game -- some truly stunning performances: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan and the Hawks, "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues (live in Liverpool 1966)"] But while the majority of the audience was happy to hear the music, there was a vocal portion that were utterly furious at the change in Dylan's musical style. Most notoriously, there was the performance at Manchester Free Trade Hall where this happened: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Like a Rolling Stone (live Manchester 1966)"] That kind of aggression from the audience had the effect of pushing the band on to greater heights a lot of the time -- and a bootleg of that show, mislabelled as the Royal Albert Hall, became one of the most legendary bootlegs in rock music history. Jimmy Page would apparently buy a copy of the bootleg every time he saw one, thinking it was the best album ever made. But while Dylan and the Hawks played defiantly, that kind of audience reaction gets wearing. As Dylan later said, “Judas, the most hated name in human history, and for what—for playing an electric guitar. As if that is in some kind of way equitable to betraying our Lord, and delivering him up to be crucified; all those evil mothers can rot in hell.” And this wasn't the only stress Dylan, in particular, was under. D.A. Pennebaker was making a documentary of the tour -- a follow-up to his documentary of the 1965 tour, which had not yet come out. Dylan talked about the 1965 documentary, Don't Look Back, as being Pennebaker's film of Dylan, but this was going to be Dylan's film, with him directing the director. That footage shows Dylan as nervy and anxious, and covering for the anxiety with a veneer of flippancy. Some of Dylan's behaviour on both tours is unpleasant in ways that can't easily be justified (and which he has later publicly regretted), but there's also a seeming cruelty to some of his interactions with the press and public that actually reads more as frustration. Over and over again he's asked questions -- about being the voice of a generation or the leader of a protest movement -- which are simply based on incorrect premises. When someone asks you a question like this, there are only a few options you can take, none of them good. You can dissect the question, revealing the incorrect premises, and then answer a different question that isn't what they asked, which isn't really an option at all given the kind of rapid-fire situation Dylan was in. You can answer the question as asked, which ends up being dishonest. Or you can be flip and dismissive, which is the tactic Dylan chose. Dylan wasn't the only one -- this is basically what the Beatles did at press conferences. But where the Beatles were a gang and so came off as being fun, Dylan doing the same thing came off as arrogant and aggressive. One of the most famous artifacts of the whole tour is a long piece of footage recorded for the documentary, with Dylan and John Lennon riding in the back of a taxi, both clearly deeply uncomfortable, trying to be funny and impress the other, but neither actually wanting to be there: [Excerpt Dylan and Lennon conversation] 33) Part of the reason Dylan wanted to go home was that he had a whole new lifestyle. Up until 1964 he had been very much a city person, but as he had grown more famous, he'd found New York stifling. Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul, and Mary had a cabin in Woodstock, where he'd grown up, and after Dylan had spent a month there in summer 1964, he'd fallen in love with the area. Albert Grossman had also bought a home there, on Yarrow's advice, and had given Dylan free run of the place, and Dylan had decided he wanted to move there permanently and bought his own home there. He had also married, to Sara Lowndes (whose name is, as far as I can tell, pronounced "Sarah" even though it's spelled "Sara"), and she had given birth to his first child (and he had adopted her child from her previous marriage). Very little is actually known about Sara, who unlike many other partners of rock stars at this point seemed positively to detest the limelight, and whose privacy Dylan has continued to respect even after the end of their marriage in the late seventies, but it's apparent that the two were very much in love, and that Dylan wanted to be back with his wife and kids, in the country, not going from one strange city to another being asked insipid questions and having abuse screamed at him. He was also tired of the pressure to produce work constantly. He'd signed a contract for a novel, called Tarantula, which he'd written a draft of but was unhappy with, and he'd put out two single albums and a double-album in a little over a year -- all of them considered among the greatest albums ever made. He could only keep up this rate of production and performance with a large intake of speed, and he was sometimes staying up for four days straight to do so. After the European leg of the tour, Dylan was meant to take some time to finish overdubs on Blonde on Blonde, edit the film of the tour for a TV special, with his friend Howard Alk, and proof the galleys for Tarantula, before going on a second world tour in the autumn. That world tour never happened. Dylan was in a motorcycle accident near his home, and had to take time out to recover. There has been a lot of discussion as to how serious the accident actually was, because Dylan's manager Albert Grossman was known to threaten to break contracts by claiming his performers were sick, and because Dylan essentially disappeared from public view for the next eighteen months. Every possible interpretation of the events has been put about by someone, from Dylan having been close to death, to the entire story being put up as a fake. As Dylan is someone who is far more protective of his privacy than most rock stars, it's doubtful we'll ever know the precise truth, but putting together the various accounts Dylan's injuries were bad but not life-threatening, but they acted as a wake-up call -- if he carried on living like he had been, how much longer could he continue? in his sort-of autobiography, Chronicles, Dylan described this period, saying "I had been in a motorcycle accident and I'd been hurt, but I recovered. Truth was that I wanted to get out of the rat race. Having children changed my life and segregated me from just about everybody and everything that was going on. Outside of my family, nothing held any real interest for me and I was seeing everything through different glasses." All his forthcoming studio and tour dates were cancelled, and Dylan took the time out to recover, and to work on his film, Eat the Document. But it's clear that nobody was sure at first exactly how long Dylan's hiatus from touring was going to last. As it turned out, he wouldn't do another tour until the mid-seventies, and would barely even play any one-off gigs in the intervening time. But nobody knew that at the time, and so to be on the safe side the Hawks were being kept on a retainer. They'd always intended to work on their own music anyway -- they didn't just want to be anyone's backing band -- so they took this time to kick a few ideas around, but they were hamstrung by the fact that it was difficult to find rehearsal space in New York City, and they didn't have any gigs. Their main musical work in the few months between summer 1966 and spring 1967 was some recordings for the soundtrack of a film Peter Yarrow was making. You Are What You Eat is a bizarre hippie collage of a film, documenting the counterculture between 1966 when Yarrow started making it and 1968 when it came out. Carl Franzoni, one of the leaders of the LA freak movement that we've talked about in episodes on the Byrds, Love, and the Mothers of Invention, said of the film “If you ever see this movie you'll understand what ‘freaks' are. It'll let you see the L.A. freaks, the San Francisco freaks, and the New York freaks. It was like a documentary and it was about the makings of what freaks were about. And it had a philosophy, a very definite philosophy: that you are free-spirited, artistic." It's now most known for introducing the song "My Name is Jack" by John Simon, the film's music supervisor: [Excerpt: John Simon, "My Name is Jack"] That song would go on to be a top ten hit in the UK for Manfred Mann: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "My Name is Jack"] The Hawks contributed backing music for several songs for the film, in which they acted as backing band for another old Greenwich Village folkie who had been friends with Yarrow and Dylan but who was not yet the star he would soon become, Tiny Tim: [Excerpt: Tiny Tim, "Sonny Boy"] This was their first time playing together properly since the end of the European tour, and Sid Griffin has noted that these Tiny Tim sessions are the first time you can really hear the sound that the group would develop over the next year, and which would characterise them for their whole career. Robertson, Danko, and Manuel also did a session, not for the film with another of Grossman's discoveries, Carly Simon, playing a version of "Baby Let Me Follow You Down", a song they'd played a lot with Dylan on the tour that spring. That recording has never been released, and I've only managed to track down a brief clip of it from a BBC documentary, with Simon and an interviewer talking over most of the clip (so this won't be in the Mixcloud I put together of songs): [Excerpt: Carly Simon, "Baby Let Me Follow You Down"] That recording is notable though because as well as Robertson, Danko, and Manuel, and Dylan's regular studio keyboard players Al Kooper and Paul Griffin, it also features Levon Helm on drums, even though Helm had still not rejoined the band and was at the time mostly working in New Orleans. But his name's on the session log, so he must have m

This week we go on location as Phillip heads downtown to Philadelphia to meet up with Will Donnelly, who is the guitarist for Low Cut Connie.  We'll hear all about his path to the band, how he and lead singer Adam Weiner made the most of the pandemic, and some great stories from the road.  The "Guitar Salad" also makes some boss effects pedals and we'll learn more about those.  Join for this great convo!Low Cut Connie is an American rock and roll band based in Philadelphia, PA. The band has earned praise for its high-energy live performances. Low Cut Connie has also gained notoriety for attracting high-profile endorsements such as a surprise inclusion on Barack Obama's Spotify Summer Playlist in 2015, and a personal association with Elton John, who has called the band one of his favorites.Band website: lowcutconnie.comGuitar Salad website: www.guitarsaladfx.comBarack Obama's playlist includes Low Cut ConnieThank you so much to Milkboy Philly for letting us set-up and hold the interview there!  And thanks to Cory Elmi for coming on to share some Milkboy details.Milkboy Philly website: milkboyphilly.comThank you to Carver Commodore, argonaut&wasp, and Blair Crimmins for allowing us to use their music in the show open and close. It makes everything sound so much better!If you'd like to sponsor our show or if you're a musician who'd like to come on the show, or if you have a recommendation for OUR next favorite band, hit us up on any of the social media platforms at @nextfavband, or visit our website at stereophilia.studio for more information and to contact us. Let's catch a live show together soon!#nextfavband #livemusic #music #musicinterview #musician #singer #guitar #song #newmusic #explorepage #instamusic #bestmusic #musicismylife #musicindustry #musiclife #songwriter #musiclover #musicfestival

WGN Radio's Dave Plier talks to filmmaker Pamela Pulice about new film about the legacy of Radio Hall of Famer Dick Biondi. Dick Biondi’s amazing radio career spans over 6 decades, including the birth of American Rock and Roll and the evolution of Pop music. Known as The Screamer, the Big Noise from Buffalo & The […]

Bob Rivers is a retired American rock and roll radio on-air personality in the Pacific Northwest, as well as a prolific producer and songwriter of parody songs, most famous for his Christmas song parodies. His album Twisted Christmas was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America. LISTEN TO THE BOB RIVERS PODCAST Follow Host Kristin Key via KRISTIN KEY's WEBSITE Support this show by joining KRISTIN KEY's PATREON

Bob Rivers is a retired American rock and roll radio on-air personality in the Pacific Northwest, as well as a prolific producer and songwriter of parody songs, most famous for his Christmas song parodies. His album Twisted Christmas was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America. LISTEN TO THE BOB RIVERS PODCAST Follow Host Kristin Key via KRISTIN KEY's WEBSITE Support this show by joining KRISTIN KEY's PATREON

Making a Scene Presents an Interview with Erin CoburnCincinnati native and perpetual misfit, Erin Coburn is known for her prolific songwriting and modern approach to American Rock and Roll. Her relatable lyrics and soul gripping vocals are a striking compliment to scorching guitar solos and infectious riffs. She is unafraid to be authentically herself, always delivering an unforgettable, high energy performance that leaves people wanting more. As Erin always says, “expect the unexpected!”

Today's conversation focuses on an as-yet untitled book written by musician Sean Kelly (A Fragile Tomorrow, So Sure) about an acclaimed and criminally overlooked American rock and roll band known as Continental Drifters .Formed in Los Angeles in 1991, the Drifters consist of guitarist/vocalist Vicki Peterson from The Bangles and The Psycho Sisters, bassist Mark Walton from The Dream Syndicate, Susan Cowsill of The Cowsills and also Psycho Sisters, Peter Holsapple from the dBs, Carlo Nuccio, Robert Maché, Russ Broussard and many others throughout the band's history.With Sean, I was delighted to speak with both Vicki and Mark, who go into great detail about the origins of the group, songs which comprise their 1998 studio album Vermilion, and so much more!Be on the lookout for details surrounding the forthcoming biography on Instagram! @continentaldriftersbook

Final Words Harnessing the Power of Words September 4, 2022 If the search engine results on ‘Famous Last Words' are any indication, there is an enormous fascination with the final utterances of those who have died. So, what's the big deal with last words? We spend all day, every day, speaking, thinking, and listening to words. From meaningless chatter, observations about the weather, and bad jokes, to friendly banter, productive dialog, and words of encouragement, we are constantly communicating, in one way or another. Why would last words be so significant?   What would you say if you had the luxury of knowing the next words you speak would be your last? And maybe that's it... it would be a luxury, because, often, there's no way to know.   In 1776, Revolutionary War spy Nathan Hale was hanged by the British after he was captured during a failed espionage mission in Long Island. He had a pretty good idea that his end was coming. His famous last words were, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”   Drummer Buddy Rich died after surgery in 1987. As he was being prepped for surgery, a nurse asked him, “Is there anything you can't take?” Rich replied, “Yeah, country music.” I'm with ya on that one, Buddy. But I wonder, might he have said something else if he'd had an inkling that those words would be his last?   In 2008, American rock and roll icon Bo Diddley, on his deathbed, died giving a thumbs-up as he listened to the song “Walk Around Heaven.” His last word was “Wow.”   Richard B. Mellon, a multimillionaire, was the president of American aluminum producing giant, Alcoa. He and his brother Andrew had a little game of tag going for about seven decades. As Richard was dying, he called his brother over and whispered, “Last tag.” Andrew remained “it” for four years, until he died. Richard's last words seem carefully chosen.   I'm Chris Voigt, Lead Pastor at Dayspring Fellowship in Keizer, Oregon. We're wrapping up our series, Harnessing the Power of Words, this Sunday. While I have no reason to believe this would be my final message, I do have the ‘luxury' of knowing it Is the end of this series! I would venture to say that our words are one of the most powerful resources God has given us. I hope you'll join us as we consider some final thoughts about how we can use our words to build up, encourage, bless, and bring life to the people around us.    I hope you'll join us as together we grow to be more like Jesus - harnessing the power of words and speaking hope and life into our world.

The Bronx Wanderers is a celebration of American rock and roll and the story of one musical family, told through their favorite songs (and yours) with plenty of laughs and memories along the way. It's the “must-see” show on the Las Vegas strip for the past 3 years. For over a decade, the Adinolfi family has captured audiences of all ages from across the world. The Bronx Wanderers include former record producer and family patriarch Yo! Vinny, his two multi-talented sons, Vin A and Nicky Stixx, plus three of the most talented musicians who just happen to be their high school friends. Together, they take you on a musical, comedic and heartfelt journey through music's biggest and most recognizable hits plus stories from Yo! Vinny's 35-year career as a record producer, label executive and music publisher. The Bronx Wanderers show is high energy showmanship at its best, featuring non-stop hit after hit from artists such as Frankie Valli, Dion, Neil Diamond, Elvis, Billy Joel, Queen and Bruno Mars, just to name a few. Truly a show for everyone of all ages, The Bronx Wanderers have played over 1000 shows on the Las Vegas strip, have been awarded “Best of Las Vegas” 3 years in a row, and have always been in the top ten of 188 shows in Las Vegas. They are still in residency in Las Vegas, but will escape the entertainment capitol of the world on select weekends to bring their powerhouse, crowd-pleasing and award-winning show to other venues across the U.S.A. If you're really, really lucky, you'll snare one of those weekends for YOUR venue. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/dadcastco/support

If you like slide guitar and good old fashioned American rock and roll (from a British dude) you're going to love this interview Greta did with Jack Broadbent before his big Humboldt debut at Humbrews on 7-29-22

First of all, Happy Independence Day everybody!  I'm so pleased to publish another episode of American Song on America's birthday!Back in America, ever since the plane crash in the winter of 1959 that ended the lives of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper, American rock and roll had been sort of losing steam.  By 1964, it very easily could have just petered out.   Certainly, the likes of Frankie Avalon, and post-army Elvis were not going anywhere exciting.  It was a new day, what was needed was music for a new generation.  The British Invasion shot a whole new attitude, excitement and energy right into the veins of American culture. Just like American culture changed England, the Brits changed American music.   You can see that play out in the competition between the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson and the Beatles.  The English band's changed American culture, too.  Sex was prolific.   Drugs were everywhere.   On the Merv Griffin show,  Timothy Leary told his audience he'd used LSD 311 times and predicted a coming age when kids would be educated through the use of psychedelic drugs, unlocking their internal Smithsonian Institutes or Libraries of Congress. The British Invasion also caused a chain reaction all across America when local musicians formed new bands, for instance Roger McGuinn and David Crosby who formed the Byrds.  It was a powerful response to the excitement, new sounds, perspectives, and inspiration that bands like the Beatles, the Stones, and the Who injected back into our rock scene.All this, and lots more, in this month's episode of American Song!IN THIS MONTH'S EPISODE:The Who - My GenerationBob Dylan - 4th Time AroundThe Beatles - Norwegian WoodThe Beatles - You've Got to Hide Your Love AwayBob Dylan - Got to Serve SomeoneJohn Lennon - Serve YourselfThe Rolling Stones - Crackin' UpThe Beatles - RainThe Beach Boys - Wouldn't It Be NiceThe Beatles - Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club BandThe Beach Boys - Good VibrationsBrian Wilson - Our Prayer/ GeeJohn Lennon - Promo for Tower RecordsElton John - Texan Love SongLed Zepellin - Whole Lotta LoveJohn Lennon - Cold TurkeyPaul McCartney - Interview 1967The Beatles - Lucy in the Sky With DiamondsThe Rolling Stones - 2000 Light Years from HomeDr. Timothy Leary - Interview 1967Blind Faith - In the Presence of the LordJohn Lennon - GodJohn Lennon - Interview 1966The Byrds - Eight Miles HighThe Standells - Dirty WaterThe Monkees - The Last Train to ClarksvilleJimi Hendrix - Purple HazeBob Dylan - Mr. Tambourine ManPaul Revere and the Raiders - Indian ReservationThe Turtles - Happy TogetherThe Lovin' Spoonful - Do You Believe in MagicSimon & Garfunkel - Mrs. RobinsonThe Young Rascals - Good Lovin'The Mama's and the Papa's - California DreamingTommy James and the Shondells - Hanky PankyThe Beatles - Revolution 9The Doors - The EndVedder/ Tierney/ Krieger/ Manzarek - Doors Induction to Rock and Roll Hall of FameThe Velvet Underground - HeroinThe Strokes - Walk on the Wild SideSonic Youth - European SonU2 - Satellite of LoveREM - Femme FataleDavid Byrne - Candy SaysBowie/ Reed - Waiting for the ManQueen - God Save the Queen

The Eagles are one of the greatest American rock and roll bands to ever grace a musical stage. They put together one of the most diverse collections of songs that range from what some might consider folk or country to tracks that are 100% rock and roll. The Eagles have sold over 200 million albums worldwide, so creating and agreeing on a list of their five best songs is a task only The Music List is prepared to do. Join Heather, Ben, and Beth as they take each other to task about a band that is special to all three of them.

Kenneth Brian is a "Southern Rock Tour de Force"! his new single is "Falling Again"! the new album "Keys to the Kingdom" is an anthology of 10 songs that spans the Roots of American Rock and Roll! The pre-production was done in L.A by long time Tom Petty drummer Steve Ferrone 

Great chat with John Torres telling a story of playing with Jason Bonham the great English drummer.Simply put, The John Torres Band is an American rock and roll band. And much like rock and roll, the band has its influence in soul, country and all-around groove music. John describes his sound as “South Jersey” – acoustic guitars, a little slide, woodsy violins and some progressive soul voices that have spilled over from the Ben Franklin Bridge, eastbound to the shorelines.Subscribe to Rock 'n' Roll Fridays Here:  https://bit.ly/3wAFfBQ

American Rock and roll at the purest form. The energy That Tom Collier and his band produces is passionate and profound. You will be inspired and transformed by both the lyrics and the powerful guitar driven songs. Ripper Owens does an amazing job on the vocals. Truly he is one of the best metal vocalists alive today. Held Hostage will roll right over you like a tank as they crush your sense with the ultimate rock and roll machine. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/cryofthewolfmagazine/message

R&SRNR_155 – “THE TOP 40 LOST HITS OF 1966” This episode spotlights The Top 40 Lost Hits Of 1966. It was a vintage year for music, including some great records you never seem to hear on the radio, or the satellite or on anyone's live stream anymore. Featured artists include a British band who named themselves after an American rock and roll icon. We'll also spotlight a dynamic singer known as “Mr. Excitement” as well as the “Black Elvis.” And we'll demonstrate how some genuine, original hit 45s by two selected acts are probably not the versions contained on some of the greatest hits collections for these artists that are available on CDs or online downloads. 1966 also was a vintage year for network television – including the debut of the only prime time action-adventure series ever with first run episodes broadcast two nights every week. Our resident Rockologist, Ken Deutsch, will be along to cover that plus some other news worth noting from that memorable year. And Ken will join Radio Dave as we present more of the greatest rock and roll stories on record. Hear it all here.

  What is the Source of your Music?   Hosts: Laureen and Tony Giorgio 26:13 min. Program Notes: February 3rd, 1959 a plane carrying American Rock and Roll musicians  Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valense and "The Big Bopper" J.P. Richardson crashed near Clear Lake, Iowa. They were all Killed. This prompted Don McLean in 1971  to write the song American Pie ("The Day The Music died") "Bad news on every doorstep I couldn't take one more step" Topic Scripture: Psalm 32:7 "You, Lord preserve me from trouble. You surround me with songs and shouts of deliverance." Amplified Bible, Classic Edition. Where does your music come from? Who or what is your source to give you music that will comfort you way down deep inside your soul, where no one can see the pain that only God knows is there? The kind of pain that you can't explain with words. The kind of pain that you don't even know you have until you are quiet and still? Our lives have been turned upside down since 2020 with the pandemic.  Most of us feel that the music has died. That there is nothing but hopelessness. The Good News is The music did not die! - Laureen Giorgio  - Download for the rest of the story. The Peace He gives now. is the same Yesterday, Today and Forever- That peace Never fails or dies- Laureen Giorgio Living With Victory Radio Podcast Sponsored by: Teague's Grocery and Cafe' 130 Soco Road Maggie Valley, NC 28751 Delivery by GRUBHUB     If you want to access information about Laureen's book, "Climbing Out Of Your Despair with God's Promise" Click the link below for one-stop shopping for Laureen's book online: https://books2read.com/Climbing-Out-of-Your-Despair-with-Gods-Promises-Hope-and-Encouragement Her book is found on Barnes and Noble, Amazon/Kindle, Walmart Kobo Rokuten ebooks, Apple books, Angus & Robertson,  Australia and many other world wide outlets. Locally at Organic Beans Coffee Company Maggie Valley NC and Blue Ridge Books in Waynesville NC. Look for Laureen's Column and ad in the March issue of  the Positively Haywood by Vicinitus paper Haywood County NC Contact Laureen or Tony Giorgio livingwithvictory@gmail.com livingwithvictory.org PO Box 1982 Maggie Valley NC 28751 Living With Victory Ministries, Inc. is a 5o1(c)(3) Charity registered with the State of Florida. Tim Hodges Voice overs, Editor, Producer. Living With Victory Ministries is an all Volunteer Community Outreach organization. All residuals from Climbing Out Of Your Despair will go to Living With Victory Ministries.We are a listener driven Podcasts.

Mandy is the Director of Education at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio and she shares tons of great insider information on how the Rock Hall works! She is a drummer who teaches us things like how many drummers have been inducted twice, can an iconic studio musician be inducted, and how many female drummers are in the Hall of Fame? This is a cool episode that really shines a light on an American Rock and Roll institution that can often be a source of controversy when the nominees are announced, but Mandy has a great attitude and love for her job that is really cool to learn about. You can watch a video of this interview by visiting Drum History on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/DrumHistoryPodcast Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's website: www.rockhall.com Rock Hall Education site: https://edu.rockhall.com/

Mandy is the Director of Education at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio and she shares tons of great insider information on how the Rock Hall works! She is a drummer who teaches us things like how many drummers have been inducted twice, can an iconic studio musician be inducted, and how many female drummers are in the Hall of Fame? This is a cool episode that really shines a light on an American Rock and Roll institution that can often be a source of controversy when the nominees are announced, but Mandy has a great attitude and love for her job that is really cool to learn about. You can watch a video of this interview by visiting Drum History on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/DrumHistoryPodcast Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's website: www.rockhall.com Rock Hall Education site: https://edu.rockhall.com/

BC guest hosts for Pat Walsh tonight! BC talks about day: The Day the Music Died" - February 3, 1959, American rock and roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and "The Big Bopper" J. P. Richardson were killed in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa. Later in the hour BC talks about excuses for showing up to work late , Happy Birthday to Dave Davies of the Kinks and Tom Brady is retiring...

If the early 90s were all about American rock and roll when it came to the Alternative format, the mid 90s belonged to our friends across the pond, thanks to a couple brothers, an incredible rivalry, and Nirvana. How did Nirvana become the catalyst for Britpop? I'll tell you. This is the story of Brit Pop.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Bill Haley and the Comets were an American rock and roll band, founded in 1952 and continued until Haley's death in 1981. The group placed nine singles in the Top 20.

Neville Marten is the editor of Guitar Techniques magazine. Since 1983 he has played guitar with Marty Wilde & the Wildcats, one of the first generation of British stars to play American rock and roll in the 1950s. Neville discusses the complex masterpiece from the Beatles' White Album, Happiness is a Warm Gun. Tour dates for Marty Wilde & the Wildcats: https://martywilde.com/events/The Blues Headlines by Neville Marten's Blues Collective:https://www.thatpedalshowstore.com/collections/friends-of-tps/products/cd-the-blues-headlines-by-neville-martens-blues-collectiveGuitar Techniques magazine: https://www.magazinesdirect.com/az-magazines/6936789/total-guitar-magazine-subscription.thtml

The definitive biography of John Mellencamp, the iconic American rock and roll original, featuring exclusive in-depth interviews and never-before-told details. Perfect for fans of Janis and Born to Run.John Mellencamp is not your typical rock star.With music inspired by the work of William Faulkner, John Steinbeck, and other giants of American literature, he has experienced a colorful career unlike any other. Now, this fascinating biography fully charts the life of one of this country's most important voices in American music.Mellencamp's story is also the story of the American heartland. His coming of age as an artist and evolution into legendary status directly reflected the major changes of the last fifty years. From the Summer of Love to the growing divisiveness of American politics and beyond, his music has served as the backdrop to this evolving country for millions of fans.Featuring exclusive interviews with friends, family, and colleagues, and exploring everything from the founding of Farm Aid to his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, this is a fresh and expansive look at a true original.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/houseofmysteryradio. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

***SPOILER WARNING*** For those who have not seen Black Widow Join Us! As Player 1 and 2 unravel untie and un wrap everyone's favorite red headed Avenger, Black Widow. We try and keep this one together as we talk about this dead Avenger's stand alone self titled film and last appearance in the MCU. Hey this episode is better than going toilet on your hands.... Harakiri/Seppuku Ritual suicide by disembowelment with a sword, formerly practiced in Japan by samurai as an honorable alternative to disgrace or execution CORRECTION The Day the Music Died February 3, 1959 American rock and roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and "The Big Bopper" J. P. Richardson were killed in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa, together with pilot Roger Peterson. Much Ado About Nerding Content written, performed and edited by Joe Otero and Selena Otero. Theme created by Selena Otero. Executive Producers Joe Thanks for stopping by, if you like what you heard please LIKE, COMMENT, RATE and SUBSCRIBE to the Pod on whatever platform you are listeing on. And Please SHARE with fellow Nerds and welcome them into Nerd Nation! Podcast Producers Our Patreons The Roller Derby Dame, No One Trolls Like Gaston, Ambeeezeee, Professor Em, Master of Muggle Studies, Motor City Timmy T, Fact Check Paull, The Phoenix Fam Patreon Patreon.com/muchadoaboutnerding Instagram Much_Ado_About_Nerding Email nerdnation2020@gmail.com Sounder Webpage muchadoaboutnerding.sounder.fm YouTube and Selena. Thanks for listening and until next time stay Rad and NERDY ON!!!

RockerMike and Rob discuss Dion DiMucci. Dion Francis DiMucci (born July 18, 1939),[2] better known mononymously as Dion, is an American singer and songwriter whose music has incorporated elements of doo-wop, rock, R&B and blues. Initially as lead singer of Dion and the Belmonts, and then in his solo career, he was one of the most popular American rock and roll performers of the pre-British Invasion era. He had 39 Top 40 hits in the late 1950s and early 1960s as a solo performer, with the Belmonts or with the Del-Satins. He is best remembered for the singles "Runaround Sue", "The Wanderer", "Ruby Baby" and "Lovers Who Wander", among other hits. https://diondimucci.com/ https://amp.theguardian.com/music/2020/jun/16/dion-dimucci-80-interview-blues-with-friends https://www.facebook.com/OfficialDion?__cmr=1&refsrc=deprecated&_rdr https://music.apple.com/au/artist/dion-dimucci/466428 https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/dion Please follow us on Youtube,Facebook,Instagram,Twitter,Patreon and at www.gettinglumpedup.com https://linktr.ee/RobRossi Get your T-shirt at https://www.prowrestlingtees.com/gettinglumpedup And https://www.bonfire.com/store/getting-lumped-up/ https://app.hashtag.expert/?fpr=roberto-rossi80 https://dc2bfnt-peyeewd4slt50d2x1b.hop.clickbank.net https://8bcded2xph1jdsb8mqp8th3y0n.hop.clickbank.net/?cbpage=nb Subscribe to the channel and hit the like button --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/rob-rossi/support https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/getting-lumped-up-with-rob-rossi/id1448899708 https://open.spotify.com/show/00ZWLZaYqQlJji1QSoEz7a https://www.patreon.com/Gettinglumpedup #musicproduction #musicvideo #musicians #musicartist #musiclover #musicphotography #musician #musicislife #musicindustry #music #musicproducer #musiclife --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/rob-rossi/support

In the years since Tom Petty's passing, his music rings authentic and sounds just as it was meant to be - timeless. We uncover why he is, and they are, the band that has best represented American Rock music for 40 years – a deserved title for Petty and the Heartbreakers. And we choose the Essential 7  - the albums of Tom Petty. It's a band with a long history, going back to the original Mudcrutch days. Giving them the nod as the quintessential American rock and roll band is no small honor. Petty and his boys owned the whole package, and they shared it on album and on stage for 40 years. Writing, passion, craftsmanship, music loved across age groups.  loud American rock and roll guitars, sweet-ass rock and roll hooks. Links: "She's The One" Documentary Hear our extra Spotify playlist for this episode: The Essential 7 Albums of Tom Petty / Songs + More Subscribe to RockPopandRoll: Apple Podcasts Spotify Stitcher Google Podcasts Or wherever you get your podcasts. Contact us: EMAIL: rockpoprollpodcast@gmail.com  TWITTER: http://twitter.com/80srockpopandroll WEBSITE: rockpopandroll.com

In the first part of our Musicians Spotlight Series, we bring you John Kay from Steppenwolf Fame which brought us such great hits as Born to be Wild, Magic Carpet Ride, The Pusher and 50 years of John Kay music and his work with NGOs helping Elephants survive as they, too, were Born to be Wild. John Kay: from Rock Star to Elephants, We Were All Born To Be Wild #Steppenwolf to #MaueKayFoundation Show Summary (Full Text Transcript Below) John Kay reveals his journey from escaping the Iron Curtain, getting on with limited vision, his passion for music and his love and commitment for wildlife and especially elephants. Ironically, I first learned about John Kay being legally blind from Dan Gausman, a librarian at State Services for the Blind of Minnesota. A client requested to have the Communications Center record an audio copy of John Kay's 1994 autobiography, Magic Carpet Ride. This is a service provided to people who are blind, visually impaired, dyslexic or have difficulty in reading the printed word. Dan mentioned that John was legally blind. This I did not know. John Kay explains his vision and how it led him from behind the Iron Curtain to the freedoms of West Berlin, his adventures as a youth and his days at Sight Saving school in Toronto. Canada. Most importantly, John talks about feeding the fire, feeding his passion for music and for the protection of wildlife. John Kay is transforming from Rock Star to Wildlife Advocate as his touring days with John Kay and Steppenwolf come to a well-deserved rest after 50 years since the release of the first Steppenwolf album. John is ready to make this transition as he has been devoting his time and proceeds from his touring over the last 10 years towards John and his wife Jutta's Maue Kay Foundation, and NGOs, Non-Governmental Organization, similar to a Non-profit organization, that focus on the protection of wildlife. Image of Elephants provided by MKF Join Jeff Thompson and Pete Lane as they sit down with John Kay and learn about John's continuing soundtrack of his life, his experiences and his focus on the years to come. This podcast is over 80 minutes long and we suggest kicking back and enjoy this epic interview with one of the great social and political voices with us today. My son asked me while he drove us home from the John Kay and Steppenwolf concert September 29 in Prior Lake, MN, why don't today's bands make statements about causes anymore? I thought to myself and wondered… is John Kay one of the last? Maue Kay Foundation Logo Here are some links that will let you know more about his music and his foundation. I suggest starting here, Steppenwolf.comwhere you can dive in and find out about everything Steppenwolf, purchase their swag, read articles and more about John Kay. Be sure to get their latest release, a 3 CD set titled, John Kay and Steppenwolf-Steppenwolf at 50. Included in this 3-disk set is an entire CD of John Kay and Steppenwolf live. You will learn and enjoy this collection of hits, and somewhat over-looked songs from 1967 to 2017. That is where you will find all the music used in this podcast, John Kay and Steppenwolf-Steppenwolf at 50. Follow John Kay and Steppenwolf on Facebookand on Last.FM Be sure to check out John Kay's web site. Where you can find links to articles, interviews, his solo music, the elephant sanctuary and the Maue Kay Foundationand learn about the passion and selflessness that John and Jutta and others are doing to protect wildlife around the world. And an Elephant size Thank You to John Kay for taking time to conduct this interview and to Charlie Wolf for all that you do and whom I met at the concert in Prior Lake, Minnesota. Glad I could support the band and I love the T-Shirts. By the way, the concert was Great! Thanks for Listening! You can follow us on Twitter @BlindAbilities On the web at www.BlindAbilities.com Send us an email Get the Free Blind Abilities App on the App Store. Get the Free blind Abilities App on the Google Play Store Full Transcript John Kay: From Rock Star to Elephants, We Were All Born To Be Wild #Steppenwolf to #MaueKayFoundation John Kay: To become aware of how special they are. I'm a big elephant lover you might say. Jeff Thompson: Blind Abilities welcomes John Kay, wildlife activist. John Kay: My vision got me probably out of Communist East Germany and my vision very definitely kept me out of Vietnam. Jeff Thompson: Who happens to be a rockstar. John Kay: They were all telling her, “You got a legally blind, penniless musician, and that's your future? I think you can do better than that.” Jeff Thompson: John talks about his limited vision, his band, Steppenwolf, one's inner voice, and following your passion. John Kay: There's an old snide remark, what do you call a musician without a girlfriend? You call them homeless. Jeff Thompson: I would like to thank Dan Guzman of the Communication Center at State Services for the Blind of Minnesota, as Dan informed me that a client had requested the autobiography of John Kay to be converted into audio format. Dan also informed me that John Kay was legally blind, and this started the process that led me to the interview of John Kay. John Kay: Hey, we all got stuff to deal with, kid, just get on with it. You learn how to figure out workaround solutions for what you're dealing with. Jeff Thompson: Hello, John Kay. I'm Jeff Thompson, and with me is Pete Lane. Pete Lane: Good morning, John. It's an honor. I'm Pete Lane. I'm in Jacksonville, Florida. Jeff is in … Jeff Thompson: Minnesota, Pete. Pete Lane: Yeah, Minnesota. John Kay: I'm in Santa Barbara. Jeff Thompson: What's the tie to Tennessee then? John Kay: I lived there for 17 years. In '89 my wife and I were a little tired of Los Angeles beehive activity. We said, “If not here, then where?” To spare the other boring details, we wound up just south of Nashville, Tennessee. In our travels with Steppenwolf we had played there several times. We'd met a lot of friendly people. It's a beautiful area. Lots of music, obviously. We were out in the country, and lots of privacy, and had a recording studio and our tour bus. We just relocated what we called Wolf World out there. For the following 17 years that was home. It was a good period during our life to be a little bit away from large cities. Jeff Thompson: Great. Pete Lane: Do you have an elephant reserve, do you not, still in Tennessee? John Kay: I don't, but Tennessee certainly does. While we lived in Tennessee, we became aware of the elephant sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tennessee, which was about, I don't know, maybe 40 minutes drive from where we lived, which was near a little town called Franklin, Tennessee. John Kay: Anyway, one thing led to another. Eventually my wife got involved with the board of directors of the sanctuary, and then they're after our daughter, who's all about animals, so from childhood wound up becoming a caregiver to three large African elephants. She was there for several years. It was like the Peace Corps slogan, the toughest job you'll ever love. She did love it, but she's rather slender in build and developed arthritis. The doctors told her she should quit, which she had to do very reluctantly. John Kay: However, the sanctuary of course continues doing very well. It's a wonderful place for often abused, neglected, sick, old circus and zoo elephants to finally live amongst their own kind without any human intrusion. They have 2,700 acres of rolling hills and woods and waterholes for them to swim in. Once you get to know elephants, because our foundation is involved with African elephants-focused NGOs in Africa, in Kenya, Tanzania, and the like, once you get to spend a real amount of time with them out in the wild, in those places where they aren't traumatized by poaching, you become aware of how special they are. I'm a big elephant lover you might say. Pete Lane: I was reading on your website where you posted the awareness of the elephant sanctuary in Tennessee and how they live a lifestyle that they never get to live when they're held in captivity. John Kay: Exactly. It used to be this way, and I don't suppose that has changed, the number one killer of captive elephants was foot rot, because unlike in the wild, where they walk up to 50 miles on relatively soft, sandy soil, in captivity they are often forced to stand on a solid concrete floor, and that's not good for them, so eventually they … One of the rescues, Tina, which came from the Vancouver Zoo, when she arrived, they had to … I was gonna say, one of the sandal makers, I can't think of the name of the brand right now, they actually made a pair of very soft boots for her because she was suffering so badly. Unfortunately, she died a couple of days before those boots arrived. I saw the bottom of her feet, which were just terrible situation. John Kay: They don't belong in captivity unless you can have a relatively good number of elephants together in a large area where they can at least simulate the kind of life they would have in the wild. Pete Lane: 2,700 acres is a large area. Do you know how many animals are on the preserve? John Kay: I think at the moment they have somewhere in the neighborhood of close to a dozen Asian elephants. They fenced off a section of the 2,700 acres for the African elephants, which are much larger, and thank goodness in relatively good health. They're larger and younger and very active, so they keep them away from the Asians, that are older and more docile. I believe right now they have about four Africans, because the Nashville Zoo I think has two of them that are there at the sanctuary now. I don't know whether they will stay there long-term, but that's what's going on there right now. John Kay: It's quite an amazing place, and so much has been learned about how to look after these creatures, and from the standpoint of veterinarian care. The research, both in the wild and in places like the sanctuary, on elephants continues, because there's still much to be learned, even though people like Joyce Poole has been studying their communication skills and language and rumbles and all of that for over 40 years. They're still working on figuring out what goes on that's beyond the grasp of science right now. Jeff Thompson: We'll be sure to put a link in the show notes for that. John, your story is quite interesting. I'm doing some research, and I just came across Feed the Fire. I was wondering, hearing about that elephant sanctuary, your foundation, it seems like you stuck to your passions. John Kay: Yeah. That's quite observant and quite spot-on, because long ago as a child, the first time I became aware of something that is I suppose related to passion or rooted in passion is when I discovered the power of music. That oddly enough was … John Kay: My father had been killed in Russia a month before I was born. When the Russian Army advanced on the area where my mother and I lived, I was just a few months old, she took me, and we got on a train headed west, and wound up eventually in a little town that wound up behind the Iron Curtain, and hence we were living under Communism until I was five. When we escaped, my mother and I, by paying off some people and getting through the border, which was patrolled with soldiers and all of that, anyway, we made it. John Kay: The point is that I was about eight or nine years old, living in West Germany, under democracy and freedom, and my mother took me to hear, of all things, an all-male, a Russian choir, the Don Cossacks. This was in a church with great acoustics. It was just a concert. Some of these ancient, incredibly sad songs that these 15 guys with these amazing voices were singing reduced me to tears, even though I didn't understand a word of Russian. I still don't. In fact, my mother was somewhat concerned. It introduced me to the power of music when it connects with your internal core. John Kay: Oddly enough, less than maybe four years later, I had a similar but very opposite experience when I first heard on American Armed Force Radio Network the likes of Little Richard and Elvis and all the rest of the rock-and-roll pioneers. I just had goosebumps, chicken skin from head to toe. Once again, I didn't understand a word of what they were singing, but the music was so primal, so intense, so full of just joy of living I'd say. That was just something that I had to have more of. John Kay: I became obsessed with trying to find this music wherever I could, and of course at a certain point started to have the delusion that someday I could be on the other side of the ocean and learn how to speak English and get a guitar and do this sort of thing myself. Obviously conventional wisdom and the adults were saying, “Yeah, sure, kid. In the meantime, pay attention in school.” Jeff Thompson: It's quite obvious you didn't lose that glitter in your eye. John Kay: Yeah. That's I think very important. It's one thing that concerns me with regards to young people that are raised with constant sensory stimulation and having a virtual life through their little screens that they're attached to all the time. John Kay: I remember once talking to university students, and I asked them, “Be honest. How many of you fear silence?” A number of hands went up, because a lot of them, from the time they're toddlers, whether it's TV or the background music of the supermarket or wherever, whenever there's silence, it astounds them, and it concerns them. I finally said, “I'm here to tell you that unless you learn to find some quiet spots, you may never hear a voice that's in you that is trying to tell you there's more out there. In other words, if you don't hear that voice, you may live a totally external life all your life, instead of finding something that is … ” John Kay: That is the humbling experience that I've had, running into people who all their lives have not been seeking the spotlight, but have been from early on moved by a passion to work on behalf of something greater than themselves. I'm specifically talking about the various people that in the last 15 years, through our efforts in various parts of the world, we've had the great pleasure and honor even to rub shoulders with. It's a humbling thing to see people who are not about themselves, but on behalf of others. You learn from that sort of thing. John Kay: There are a lot of young people who have that capability also. I'm often wondering whether they aren't so barraged with constant Twittering and social media and whatever else is going on that they never have a quiet moment. That's not necessarily a good thing in my opinion. Jeff Thompson: I was talking to Pete earlier, and I was dissecting your song, but you just answered the question for me, that solitude is no sacrifice. John Kay: That's right. You picked up on that. That song has been used by a number of people who wanted to play something for their daughter or son that were about to leave home and go to university or go far afield to do something on distant shores. That's basically it. “Solitude's no sacrifice, to catch a glimpse of paradise.” Jeff Thompson: That's an awesome song. I really like that song. Pete, you've got some questions I'm sure. I've been jumping in here. Pete Lane: John, I'm just honored to be speaking with you. I'm in my late 60s and of course grew up with you and your music and of course Steppenwolf. Until recently I had no idea of how enduring you have been and how diverse you are in your view of the world and society. I just want to compliment you on that for starters. John Kay: Thank you. That's very kind of you and generous. I would hope and think that I will continue to be still in a lifelong learning process of clumsily following the footsteps left by others that have preceded me with their examples of how to nurture their humanity and how to have a purpose in life beyond just mindless consumption and amusing themselves, as the book once said, amusing ourselves to death. It's something that keeps the inner flame burning, and been very, very fortunate in many different ways, currently still healthy, thank goodness. Any day when you remain vertical is a good day. Pete Lane: Absolutely. John Kay: There are so many out there who lead with their example. I have met some of them who have been inspirational. Every so often, some young people come along, say, “Hey, I came across your music, and it has given me some stuff to listen to when I have to get over one of the speed bumps of life, and thank you for that.” It's a generational thing. I'm still focused on the ones ahead of me. There are younger ones that have found something in what we have to offer of a value that went beyond just musical wallpaper, but with no real substance that you can use for your own. John Kay: There's so many out there who have written songs and played music practically all their lives, which has given sustenance to the rest of us, or the listeners, and have had personal little anthems that we go to when we need to have a moment of rejuvenation through music. John Kay: I sometimes talk to people who say, “You're talking about all these other people doing great work, making music that gives great pleasure and joy to people. It's not a bad way to make a living either.” While I agree with that, music will continue to be something that I do on occasion, meaning once in a while I have a desire to write a song or two, irrespective of whether they will ever be recorded and commercially released. I've performed at fundraisers and things like that. Music continues very definitely to be part of my life. John Kay: By the same token, I am very much now focused on bringing the word to a lot of people, who once they know what we are losing, meaning wildlife, we've had this number of times, we're talking to people who are well-educated, quite engaged, very successful in what they do, and when we talked about that an elephant was being killed every 15 minutes for their tusks and that we, at this rate, 15 years from now, may no longer have any living in the wild, and the same holds for the rhinos and numerous other species, they're aghast. They're, “I didn't know that. This is terrible. Who's doing anything about it?” Then further to that, “Who can I trust with my money if I want to help?” John Kay: That's really what our little foundation is about. We have been supporting various entities. I think at this point we're at 16 different NGOs we support annually for about 15 years. We're the ones who are a little bridge between the boots on the ground who are fighting to preserve what remains, and those who are willing to help provide it, there's some assurance that their money will go to the boots on the ground. We're the ones who can vouch for a number of wonderful people at NGOs. Because we have born witness to the work they do, we're going to back to Africa next year to look in on several of the NGOs again. That's my role of both my wife and I. John Kay: In fact, this year's the last year that Steppenwolf will be performing. We have six more engagements to play, the last one October 14, and after that the wolf will go into hibernation, if you want to put it that way. My emphasis is now on … I assume both of you are familiar with TED Talks. Jeff Thompson: Mm-hmm (affirmative). Pete Lane: Yes. John Kay: With that in mind, although the following is not a TED Talk per se, because those talks are limited to 18 minutes in length, mine is more like an hour and 15 minutes, but what it is, it's similar to a TED Talk, in the sense that I'm up on stage giving my story, while behind me on a screen there are many, many still images and short video clips and so on. The whole thing is called Born To Be Wild: From Rock Star To Wildlife Advocate, John Kay of Steppenwolf and His Journey of Transformation. John Kay: It basically starts with my early life and how I got out from behind the Iron Curtain and was enthralled with American rock-and-roll when I grew up as a teenager in West Germany and made it to Canada as an immigrant, got my first guitar, and then got into music more and more, and of course the story of Steppenwolf, and then how gradually over time we, my wife and I, through our travels, went to Cambodia, where we saw the killing fields, and we got involved with building a school there, which was the start of our foundation, and then Africa and so on down the line. John Kay: Basically at the end of this presentation, towards the end, after having shown what we do, where, and who is doing what in Africa and Asia and Borneo and so on, it's basically a pitch of saying, “Now that you know, if you didn't know already, you can use our website as a gateway to other NGOs or you can support what we do directly, but do it for your grandchildren's sake or do it to honor the 2,000, almost, African rangers that have been killed by poachers in the last 12 years, or do it simply because our fellow living beings have very little left to call their home, and they too have a right to exist.” Pete Lane: Unbelievable. Jeff Thompson: That's awesome. I love the way you talk about your passion that you even have today. Pete and I both met because we had a passion for recording. One story that really caught my attention is when you were in Toronto and you received your reel-to-reel, and I don't think you listened to the books as much as you wanted it for recording music. John Kay: You got that right. It was a scam from the get-go. I said, “I don't need talking books. I can read books, even though I gotta read them with my nose.” I said, “I could use it for something else.” I was just simply appalled at what came out of that dinky little speaker that was built into that Wollensak tape recorder, because when I tried my hand at recording my first efforts of playing guitar and singing, I said, “I don't sound like that, do I? This is terrible.” It was sheer ego that kept me going, said, “One way I can get better if I keep at it.” Hope springs eternal. Sometimes you simply have more luck than talent. Pete Lane: John let's talk a little bit more if you don't mind about your eye condition. Talk about that a little bit. Let's start if you don't mind a little bit in your early years and maybe focus in Toronto when you were moved into is it Deer Park, that Deer Park school? John Kay: Yeah, that was the sight-saving classes. It's a strange thing, with respect to my eyes. When I was still a baby, lying in one of these carriages that back in those days were typical, I think the English call them prams or whatever, living in this tiny little town in what was then East Germany, I would cry whenever the sun was in my eyes. John Kay: When I was older, my mother took me to an ophthalmologist, and he said, “He obviously has very, very poor vision and he's very light-sensitive.” The only thing he could think of at the time was that, “His condition might improve if he had a better diet,” because at that time we were on food rations, and because of where we were, we were eating herring morning, noon, and night, boiled, fried, stewed herring, coming out of the ears. I never touched a fish again after that until I was 40-something years old. John Kay: This is the important point about this. My mother took that as a, “Maybe the doctor's right.” It was that that caused her to take the risky chance of getting caught, imprisoned, or shot by, in the middle of the night, together with about half a dozen other people, getting smuggled by a couple of border guides that worked for the railroad and knew how to time the searchlights from the watchtowers and the dog patrols and everything else. John Kay: We got through, and then it turned out that, this was in Hanover, Germany, West Germany, and of course this was after the war, there were still schools in short supply, having been destroyed, and so there were classes 50 children large, two shifts, one in the morning, one in the afternoon. I was not doing well. It was my mother who was working as a seamstress who managed to get me into the Waldorf school, the private school, which was banned under Hitler because it was far too humanitarian, but which looked after me. There I blossomed, and the eyes didn't play as big a role. John Kay: It wasn't until I came to Toronto that I was back in public school. I didn't speak English yet and couldn't read what was on the blackboard. The school officials got in touch with the CNIB, Canadian National Institute for the Blind, and they said, “We have these sight-saving classes in a, it's just one large schoolroom segmented into two or three different grades, at a public school called Deer Park School, in the northern part of Toronto.” That's where I went for about two years. John Kay: The primary benefit was that, yes, they had textbooks with extra-large print and all that, but I learned English during those years, not just in school, but because of my obsession with listening to the radio all the time, looking for music that connected, I was always having to try and make out what these speed-rapping DJs were saying, because they were yakking a mile a minute. Between radio and the Deer Park School, I got to the point where I got a handle on things. Of course during that period at that school, I was also given this tape recorder on loan. As I mentioned before, I immediately pressed that into service. Jeff Thompson: That's really impressive, just the journey. John Kay: One thing I should add, by the way, was that nobody really knew what was the matter with me. I went to a Toronto University I think, the medical department, ophthalmology I think it was. There I was treated like a guinea pig. They brought in all these medical students and take a look in my eyes and everything. They said, “Oh, you're totally colorblind. Let's see here.” John Kay: They had one of those books where every page is made out of these little mosaic little pebbles with different colors.” Embedded amongst them, so to speak, would be a combination of these colored tiles that spelled something, a letter or a number or something. At the beginning of the book, the contrast between the primary colors versus whatever the number or the letter was very stark. I said, “Yeah, that, it says six, okay.” As we went from page to page, the differences in terms of contrast became more and more subdued to the point where by page whatever, I don't see anything other than just one page of all these little mosaic tiles and pebbles. They would say, “No, actually there is a light yellow whatever something or other.” John Kay: They figured out later down the line that I was an achromat, achromatopsia, that as an additional bonus with that condition comes extreme light sensitivity. Then finally, I also have a congenital nystagmus, which is the eyes shaking all the time. You do the best you can with what you have. John Kay: Now in '63, and this has a point with respect to my vision, my vision got me probably out of Communist East Germany, and my vision also probably, in fact very definitely, kept me out of the U.S. Army and probably out of Vietnam, because when in '63 at age 19 my mother and stepdad, my mom had remarried, decided to move from Toronto to Buffalo, New York, because my stepdad had something going on business-wise, and I joined them there, the first letter that hit our mailbox was from the draft board. Of course I had to show up. Jeff Thompson: Welcome to the States. John Kay: Of course somebody once said that the military intelligence is an oxymoron. I'm not the judge on that, but I will tell you that I had something that made me scratch my head, namely when I was there and I was to have a complete physical, I tried to tell the man that I was legally blind, and of course he said, “We'll get to that, son.” After a very, very thorough, top to bottom, in and out physical examination, he said, “Now read those letters on that chart on the wall.” I said, “What chart?” He said, “You can't see the chart?” I walked a little closer, said, “I see it now.” “What do you see?” “If I can step a few steps closer … ” “Yeah, you can.” “Okay. I think there's a large capital A at the top, and the rest is guesswork.” He harrumphed about, “You could've said … Never mind.” My designation was 4F. I asked him, “What does that mean really?” He said, “Son, in your case it pretty well stands for women and children first, before you. Nobody's gonna put a rifle in your hands.” John Kay: It was one of those things where during those times, because in short order I went to the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island, to hear the greats, and I was amongst tens of thousands of young people my age, of course many of them, at least 50% or more, being young men. The draft in the Vietnam War was very much on everybody's mind. I could relate to their concerns about going off to a foreign land. This case, I would imagine my eye condition did me a service. Jeff Thompson: That was probably a baptism into the social issues of the United States coming from Toronto for you. John Kay: That's very true. That is very true. Sometimes you have the aha moment decades after it was already rather obvious. In certain ways, what makes up my musical background in terms of my self-taught things, is to some extent rooted in the early '60s folk music revival, in my visits to not just the 1964 but also the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. '65 of course I saw Dylan go electric. That is that I had already, because of my baptism with rock-and-roll, by the early '60s rock-and-roll had lost a lot of its punch and we had the pretty boy Philadelphia singer syndrome, like Frankie Avalon, Fabian, and the like. There wasn't much on the radio that I could really sink my teeth into. Here comes the folk music revival. John Kay: While living in Buffalo, a folkie says, “If you really want to know the roots of all this stuff, go down to the main library, they have a music department, which has all of the Library of Congress recording that John and Alan Lomax made in the field. You can listen to Appalachian Delta music. You can hear Delta blues, whatever.” I did that. They would let you take a few albums home every week and trade them out for other ones. I went through the entire thing and gave myself a bit of an education. John Kay: Then when I went to the Newport Folk Festival and saw some of those still alive, those recordings I'd heard, I didn't know that McKinley Morganfield, who was recorded in the Delta by the Lomaxes, was actually Muddy Waters. Here he was with his band playing at Newport, and all of those kind of things. John Kay: The blues, which as Muddy once said, “The blues had a baby and they called it rock-and-roll,” so the blues immediately spoke to me, particularly when I came across some of the lyrics of the chain gang songs and other things. There's a powerful song about … The lyrics go, “Why don't you go down ole Hannah.” Hannah was the name they gave to the sun, “And don't you arise no more, and if you rise in the morning, bring judgment day,” because these are guys, they hated her, because the sun came up, they were forced to work in the field, out of the prison, the chain gangs, and they didn't get any rest until the sun went down. I learned that the blues had a lot more to offer than just, “Woke up this morning, my chicken walked across my face,” and all the rest of the stuff they'd write. John Kay: The other thing was great, was that the likes of Dylan and numerous others of the times were following in the footsteps of Woody Guthrie and writing new songs about the here and now that was of interest to our own age group, because this was the time when the three civil rights workers were killed in Mississippi. I remember hearing, let's see, I can't think of his name right now, it'll come to me later, he was just like Dylan, a topical, as we called them, we never called them protest songs, topical songwriter. I remember he sang it, had just written it, about the killing of these three, at a topical song workshop in the afternoon. His name was Ochs, Phil Ochs. Jeff Thompson: Phil Ochs, yeah. Pete Lane: Phil Ochs, of course. John Kay: Suicide some years later. The refrain of the song was, “And here's to the land that you've torn the heart out of. Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of.” Jeff Thompson: That rings through with your Monster song. John Kay: Yeah, because the thing that became obvious to me was that songs can have content which is reflective of what's on people's minds. One of the first things we experienced as Steppenwolf was a baby band, when we went on our first cross-country tour and we were still approachable, so to speak, by long-haired kids in bellbottoms who wanted to say hello after the show, a lot of them said, “Those first two albums of yours we got, you're saying on our behalf some of the things that worry us or that we are concerned with.” John Kay: That's the first time we had positive reinforcement that what we were writing about was not just our own individual personal opinions, but it was reflective of what was on the minds of many of those in our own age group. Of course I had experienced that at Newport. It was a galvanizing experience to be amongst 20,000 young people, and they're listening to somebody like a Phil Ochs or a Bob Dylan, and others who were writing about what was going on in our country in the world. Like JFK once said, “And that's the role of the artist, to remind us of the potential we have yet to reach,” in terms of being a just society and all the rest. John Kay: When it came time for us to start writing our own songs, we had of course witnessed, in fact I'd played in a couple of the same coffeehouses as a journeyman folk musician solo act in Los Angeles with the likes of David Crosby and then still called Jim, later Roger, McGuinn and the rest, who formed of course The Byrds. Jeff Thompson: The Byrds. John Kay: Their first album was by and large electric versions of Bob Dylan songs. In fact I was at Ciro's nightclub when The Byrds played, when Dylan showed up and played harmonica with them. That was a photograph on the back of their first album. John Kay: The point is that I took from there, why couldn't even rock music have lyrics that go beyond “oowee baby” and the typical? That's why our first album had songs like The Pusher and The Ostrich and Take What You Need, which was really about the environment, and later, things like Don't Step On The Grass Sam and None of Your Doing, which was on the second album, which was about a Vietnam soldier coming home and nobody understands him and he can't deal with what he had witnessed. Then of course eventually came the Monster album. John Kay: The thing with the Monster album, which was very, very successful, popular on the college campuses, were all these demonstrations which were going on against the war in the campuses, and then of course the horrific Kent State shooting. These were things where what we had to say resonated with a lot of young people. John Kay: What I found interesting was that we after so many years were no longer playing that song as part of our show. Then came the Great Recession, 2007-08, and all of a sudden, a couple of things happened. I can't think of his name right now, he's been a stalwart writer for Rolling Stone for several decades, from the early days on, and he had posted a thing, something like, “I went back to listening to Steppenwolf's Monster album and I was astounded how appropriate it is in the here and now.” John Kay: That coincided shortly with getting more and more requests on our website via email primarily, “Please start playing Monster again.” From about 2009 onward, we've been playing it ever since. It's rare that that song does not get a standing ovation in the middle of the show. Of course it's aided and abetted by visuals that accompany our live performance, not every song, but many. In the case of Monster, it is a 10-minute film that illustrates pretty well what the song, line by line, lyrically is about. John Kay: I remember when we did it for the first time in 2009, our sound man, who's been with us now for over 30 years, and he said, “John, I had the most weird experience tonight, because there was this strange situation with Monster. It was like I was watching a movie that had a soundtrack that a live band was playing, and instead of a narrator telling me what the story was, you were simply singing the story. It was just a really intense experience.” It's been like that ever since. John Kay: Sometimes you write something, and it goes out there like a kid leaving home, and you have no idea what it's doing out there, and then all of a sudden it comes back and say, “I'm still here.” Jeff Thompson: The prodigal song. John Kay: It's been like that for the last 10 years. It's a song that seems to very much resonate about what we are dealing with right now. Pete Lane:         It's funny, John, Jeff and I, again, were speaking before you connected with us this afternoon, and I had prepared a question along those lines. As you did earlier in this interview, you've answered it. Let me ask you this question. It's a slight variation on what we just spoke of. For those of you who don't know, Monster is just a dynamite song. It chronicles the country, the United States from its inception to what was then modern-day U.S. back in 1970 I believe, '71, early '70s. John Kay: Correct. Pete Lane: My question is this. If you were to write that song today, would you title it anything different? John Kay: No, because in my opinion the Monster has almost taken human shape now. Donald Trump: The American Dream is dead. Richard Nixon: I'm not a crook. Donald Trump: We will make America great again! Richard Nixon: I'm not a crook. I'm not a crook. I'm not a crook. Pete Lane: Just a dynamite song. Jeff Thompson: There's another long big song. It was big on the album I bought. You had over I think it was 20-minute long, The Pusher. John Kay: Yeah, that thing. There's a story to be told about that, I'll tell you. You're referring to the so-called early Steppenwolf album, a vinyl album obviously, back in those days. One side was that 20-minute version of The Pusher. That whole thing came to be because it was really a performance done by the band The Sparrow, which I had joined. John Kay: When I was in the early '60s, like so many others, with a guitar, hitchhiking around, playing wherever they'd let me, in coffeehouses and the like, when I returned after a year of being in Los Angeles, hanging out at the Troubadour, doing various things, meeting Hoyt Axton, learning The Pusher from him, etc, and wound up in Toronto again, and York Village at that time, section of Toronto had exploded into this area of just coffeehouses and clubs, all sorts of things. While I played at a coffeehouse as a solo act, I bumped into this Canadian band called The Sparrows, with an S, plural at the time. We joined forces. I started to perform The Pusher with an electric band instead of just acoustically. John Kay: The Sparrows eventually left Canada, because in those days most people did, where there was Joni Mitchell and Neil Young or others, and wound up in the States. We played in New York for a while, got a record deal that went nowhere. I kept badgering them that having seen the formation of The Byrds in L.A., that we ought to go to California. That's what we did eventually, and wound up, through various reasons I won't take time to explain, in the Bay area. There we played on the weekends usually the Avalon Ballroom or the Fillmore Ballroom. During the week we would play different clubs. One of them was a permanently beached paddle wheeler ferry boat in Sausalito called The Ark. John Kay: We were now amongst all of these Bay area bands that liked to stretch out and experiment and jam and do different things. We said, “Hey, we can play songs that are longer than four or five minutes.” We started to do different things. One of them was this ad-libbed version of The Pusher, which was preceded by us doing different instrumental experiments. Steve Miller would come by and sit in and play all the different things. One of the things we'll always remember is that regularly the Hells Angels would come, drop acid, lie down on the dance floor, and stay all night listening. John Kay: We also played a club called The Matrix. Unbeknownst to us, the manager of the club had a couple of microphones suspended in the ceiling. When Steppenwolf later were moving forward into the '68 and '69, when we were quite successful with our first couple albums, we were being badgered to go back into the recording studio, because the label was always hungry for a new product. We had a couple record contracts that obligated us to deliver two albums a year, which was in hindsight ridiculous. John Kay: Anyway, the point is that the label said, “This young man, or this guy showed up, and he has these tapes that he recorded, unbeknownst to you, when you guys were still called The Sparrows, from a show you played at The Matrix in San Francisco. We would like to put it out as a collector's item called Early Steppenwolf.” We listened to it. Of course you can imagine that with a couple of microphones suspended from the ceiling, this was, yeah, a collector's item for those who must just for bragging rights have to have one of everything, to be able to say, “I got everything they ever did.” We hated that. We hated it then, but it bought us time. It bought us time in the studio, because when that thing was released, we got busy on writing and eventually recording what became the Monster album. That was a major step forward. Jeff Thompson: Yes, it was. Pete Lane: Fascinating story. Jeff Thompson: John, I want to go back to you told a story about how kids in school would bully you, but you took their names, you remembered, and you would get them back somehow. John Kay: It wasn't so much in school. What would happen is, like just about everywhere in the world, including the States these days, soccer, what they called football, every kid plays it. They play it barefoot in Africa. Whatever. We did too, meaning the kids in the street in West Germany when I was young. There was a vacant lot next to our little apartment building, and that's where we played. John Kay: During the day, with the sun in my eyes, even with my dark glasses, that wasn't so cool, but the moment the sun started going down, during twilight hours, I'm like a nocturnal creature that can make do with very little light. My eyes open up. I don't squint. I can see much better, not further, just more comfortably I can see things. John Kay: I would join the kids playing soccer. When they figured out that I couldn't always see what was going on, there's an 11-meter penalty kick that's part of the rules, and so when it was my turn to make that kick, some wise ass would put a half a brick in front of the ball, so I wouldn't see it. I'd come with just regular street shoes, no special athletic shoes, and take a run at shooting this ball, and of course, wham, would run my toes right into that brick- Jeff Thompson: Ouch. John Kay: … holding my foot and hopping around on one leg, doing a Daffy Duck, “Woo! Woo!” That did not go down well with me. I was fairly big for my size always, tall. They then of course saw that I was gonna come after them. They also knew that if they managed to run a certain distance, I could no longer find them. I had to learn to say, “This is not the time.” Two or three days would go by, and they would have forgotten about it, and whoever the instigator was would be doing something, and then I would go over there and deck them. They would be, “Oh man, what was that for, man? I didn't do … ” “Yes, you did, and I did not forget, but I hope you will remember this,” and they did. Jeff Thompson: I remember seeing your album covers. I collected albums. There was one of you leaning back, and you're very tall, the way the angle was on it. You wore the sunglasses. When I thought of artists, musicians, I go through Roy Orbison and other people that wore the sunglasses on stage and stuff, I never thought of you. When someone brought it to my attention, State Services for the Blind here, some client wants your book recorded, so they'll take volunteers, record chapter by chapter for the person to listen to. They contacted me, said, “Hey, John Kay, he's visually impaired.” I went, “Oh, that explains the sunglasses,” maybe for the lights on stage or something. John Kay: Absolutely the case. I had learned over time, since I wore dark glasses during the day, certainly outdoors, I got in the habit of keeping them on, because I went, “Spotlights and stage lights, they're pretty bright, and sometimes it's difficult for me to see the guitar fret board, where my fingers go and everything, and so I'll just keep the dark glasses on. Besides, some pretty cool people seem to be wearing them, and so that's just part of the persona.” Over time, meaning literally decades, I learned that I could avoid, provided the spotlights were mounted high enough with a downward angle, I could look under them in a sense, look at the audience rather than up into the bleachers. Gradually I was able to dispense with them on stage, although the moment we play outdoors they go right back on. In fact I have one pair that's damn near as dark as welding goggles when things get really super sunny, Africa's sun is very bright, or the snow is very reflective, that sort of thing. John Kay: Of course I remember one time, we were never the darlings of Rolling Stone, and so there was a negative review of one of our albums. The guy said, I'm paraphrasing, “As far as John Kay's jive sunglasses are concerned,” he went on about something else. Actually, one of our managers felt compelled to write them a letter and point out that those glasses have a purpose for being on my face. He's just like everyone else. John Kay: When I was a kid in West Germany when we first got there, I had a key around my neck, because my mother was a seamstress in other people's homes, so making a living until she remarried, and I had to learn how to get around, to get on this streetcar to get to there, because I was at a daycare center run by the Swedish Red Cross and I had to make my way back home and I couldn't read the street signs. You figure things out, there's this kind of a building on that corner, and markers that you imprint into your memory banks. John Kay: You have to remember, this is a time, post World War II, the Soviet Union alone lost 20 million people. In Hanover in 1949 and '50 and '51, there were tons of people, legs and arms missing and crutches and this and that, those who managed to survive the war in some semblance. It was basically a mindset of, “Hey, we all got stuff to deal with, kid. Just get on with it.” You learned how to figure out workaround solutions for what you're dealing with. I'm certainly one of millions who are having to make adjustments. John Kay: I remember we had a dear neighbor in Tennessee was a Vietnam veteran, Marine Corps, and he was in a wheelchair. He had to overcome his anger and started to meditate and do other things. He said to me, “Hey John, it's not the hand that's dealt you, it's how you play the hand that's dealt you.” He married, had a wonderful daughter. He became a cotton farmer and somehow got onto his tractor, and like so many out there, that okay, he's not perfect, but what are you gonna do with what you got? Jeff Thompson: John, regarding your visual impairment these days, do you use technology, computer, smartphone, anything along those lines? If so, do you use any kind of adaptive tools or screen enlargement features, anything like that? John Kay: I'm lucky enough in the sense that most standard issue devices have features that work just fine. I have a fairly large flat-panel monitor on my PC. Of course with the zoom feature and other things, I can make the font, what I'm reading, as well as what I may be writing, email and Word documents or whatever, whatever I want. The iOS, I have a phone, I have a iPad, they have a zoom feature that's just marvelous. I use that when needed. Some things with Siri or Chicano or something, in the PC world you can actually just ask for certain things to be brought to the screen. I'm learning how to do that more and more. It's a great convenience. John Kay: I really don't have any problems. I've flown all over the world to meet my band mates on my own. I've learned to do … That was a big deal for me, because of … One of you mentioned you had been to our foundation's website. There are a number of videos about the things that we support, and we have witnessed and the wildlife that we see and so on. All of that was shot by me, edited by me, and then narrated by me. Now granted my wife, who is a fine photographer and had no colorblindness like I do, I ask her sometimes, “What about this?” “We can tweak that a little, whatever.” Other than a little color assistance, I do all that myself. John Kay: The reason I can do it primarily is because there are several brands of prosumer or even professional camcorders that have up to 20x optical zoom lens, which gives you an incredible reach from where you are to get a closeup of whatever's in the distance, an elephant, whatever it may be. I use it like a pair of binoculars, because I remember one time we were in Africa and our guide was asking my wife, “He's constantly looking through that thing. Is he always shooting?” She says, “No no no. Instead of picking up a pair of binoculars, then finding something he wants to shoot, putting down-” Jeff Thompson: Good for you. John Kay: “… the binoculars, picking up his camera, he just uses that zoom lens of his like a pair of binoculars, and when he sees something, he just pulls the trigger and starts recording.” Jeff Thompson: That's great. That's neat. John Kay: That's my workaround solution for that. Jeff Thompson: John, there's so much information on your website. I was going through it. That's how I found out about the elephants and your foundation. I also was reading your question and answer, which any of the listeners who are out there, go to his website and check it out, the question and answer, because it answers so many questions. One of them was when someone mentions you are a legend, I loved your response to that. You would say it to if you met Chuck Berry or someone else or something. It was just such a humbling thing that you … Then I believe you met your wife in … John Kay: Toronto. Jeff Thompson: Yeah, in Toronto. Usually when you hear about rock stars and these legends, they've gone through wives, divorces. You're still together. John Kay: We are still together. I was a member of the aforementioned Canadian band in Toronto called The Sparrows. We were playing Downtown Toronto at a place. Between sets, our bass player said, “Hey, my girlfriend is here, sitting over there at that table, and she brought her girl friend. Why don't you join us for a drink or something?” I went over there, and I met this young woman by the name Jutta, spelled J-U-T-T-A. She was from Hamburg, Germany, where she had already as a teenager seen the band that later was to name itself the Beatles and numerous American rock-and-roll stars at The Star-Club in Hamburg. We had some things in common. I liked her a lot. I followed her home that night and moved in with her. We've been together ever since. Jeff Thompson: The longest one-night stand. John Kay: Yeah. The thing is that I, like so many others in the rock-and-roll world, being in our early 20s when we caught a wave as Steppenwolf and we were out there on the road, there's a degree of too much ego, testosterone, drugs, and temptations out there. When my wife sometimes, particularly women ask her, “Was it all roses and rainbows? You guys are still together. What's the secret to your marriage's longevity?” She'll look them straight in the eye and say, “The secret is not getting a divorce.” Jeff Thompson: Rocket science. John Kay: We're very much lifelong partners. We have much, much in common in terms of our interests and where we direct our energy and passion and time. The other hand, rather, she has certain intuitive traits that for whatever reason elude me, and I'm more analytical and more logical in some ways. We're a good fit. It's the yin and the yang together. We hope to remain like that until we are no longer vertical. Jeff Thompson: I have a question about this. When you met her, was your eyesight at the time, did you have to explain to her you won't be driving or something like that? John Kay: Yeah, you're right. Just like my thing that I mentioned earlier, when you're a 12-year-old and you're fantasizing about becoming a rock-and-roller on the other side of the ocean and being told, “Sure, kid,” when I moved in with her, she was a very young, desirable, good-looking woman, some of her friends, there's an old snide remark in the industry, which is, “What do you call a musician without a girlfriend? You call them homeless.” John Kay: When I went back to this other girl that I had been living with, to get some of my belongings to bring those over to Jutta's place, when I showed up at this other girl's place, there was another guy sitting there already, playing the guitar. I said, “Hello, who are you?” He says, “My name is Neil Young. I just came in from Winnipeg and I'm joining this band called The Mynah Birds.” I said, “Oh, cool. I just joined this band called The Sparrows.” In other words, all of us folkies were always looking for a kindhearted woman to put a roof over your head. John Kay: When I moved in with Jutta and we had been together for a while, they were all telling her, “You got a legally blind, penniless musician, and that's your future. I think you can do better than that.” Of course the conventional wisdom, they were absolutely right. The chances of all of this working out the way it did, you'd probably get better odds winning the lottery, if you go to Vegas, they would give you better odds for that, but like I said earlier, sometimes you just have more luck than good sense. It all worked out just fine. Jeff Thompson: That's great. How did you keep your focus? How did you, I keep going back to that song, but your eye on the chart, through all that has gone on with the early Steppenwolf to John Kay and Steppenwolf? What kept you focused? John Kay: That's an interesting story, question rather, because I've had to contemplate that before. I've never felt the need to go see a shrink. I seemed to always get over whatever emotional speed bumps there were. I suspect that the same deeply rooted passion for certain things, be it music, be it a sense of justice, being easily enraged by injustice, that I think is also the touchstone of other things where anger is the motivator and the engine. In the case of Steppenwolf, was very successful, we had various albums, some more commercially successful than others. It wasn't all roses and rainbows, but on the whole, it was a segment of my life that was pretty special, obviously. John Kay: Then came time when the obligations to the band, because of being its primary songwriter and lead singer and front man and all that, became such that I wanted time for the private me, which meant my family, our daughter, who was hardly ever seeing me. John Kay: When I pulled the plug on Steppenwolf in the late '70s, after a rejuvenating period in the mid-'70s on a different label, our little family went in our little family van all over the Southwest. We spent a lot of time in Hawaii, on Maui and stuff. That was quite nurturing and very good for me, but I was also, “Okay, I'm gonna do a solo album, this and that.” It was on pause to a certain extent. John Kay: Then the news reached Jerry Edmonton, the original drummer and co-founder of the band, and friend, that a couple of ex-members of the band were out there using the name Steppenwolf. Then all sorts of boring details as to lawsuits and other things involved, but the news that reached us was generally from fans, saying, “We went to see what was called Steppenwolf, and it was horrible. People were throwing stuff at them. They're trashing the name.” John Kay: We tried to put a stop to these activities, using the legal system, lawsuits and so on. Again, it would take too much time to go into the details. Let's just say that the results, I kept saying, “This legal system is limping along like a turtle with a wooden leg. We're not getting anywhere here with these lawsuits.” It was like whack-a-mole. You'd go after them in this state, they'd pop up in another state. John Kay: Finally, out of sheer desperation and anger, I had a number of musicians with whom I had been playing as the John Kay Band, I called Jerry and I said, “Man, I want to go out there as John Kay and Steppenwolf, because I want to resurrect the name and rebuild it. We'll work out something, so you participate financially.” He was already into his photographer and artist mode. That was fine. John Kay: In 1980 I went out there, driven by the outrage and anger of, “You guys are destroying something that you didn't build. I was the one who called everybody up to see if you wanted to what became Steppenwolf, and I'm going to go out there and compete with you guys on the same low-level clubs you guys have played the name down into, see who wins.” John Kay: We from 1980 on went out there 20 weeks at a time, five shows a week, overnight drives 500 miles, playing in the toilet circuit of bars, where some of them, you wouldn't want to enter those clubs without a whip and a chair. It was just horrible. John Kay: The mantra was, “Yeah, three years ago we were headlining in arenas. That's not the point. If there are 300 people here tonight at this club who are not above being here to hear us play, and we're certainly not above us playing for them, so the mission is every night we gotta send people home smiling and telling others, ‘You missed a really good show,' and all you can do is grit your teeth that that will eventually,” because we ran into, we distinctly remember, a club on the outskirts of Minneapolis, St. Paul. During the soundcheck time, relatively young guy came over and looked me straight in the face, said, “You're not John Kay. He wouldn't play a shit hole like this.” That was the level to which the name had been played down into. John Kay: That really got me aggravated. I said, “I'm gonna kick their butt, not by … The lawyers are still fighting over this and that, but in the meantime, we're getting great reviews and we're going town by town, state by state.” By 1984, after relentless touring in the States, also twice in Canada, by that time we had also released a couple new albums, twice in Europe, once in Australia, we in essence put what we called the bogus Steppenwolf bands out of business. John Kay: While we were at it, since we were somewhat damaged goods, we said, “Then we're gonna learn how to mind the store ourselves.” That's when we had our own music publishing company, our own recording studio, our own merchandise corporation, our own tour bus, huge truck with a triple sleeper, 105 cases of gear, and on and on. To give you an idea of how tight a bond was formed, our entire crew, all four members have been with me for over 30 years. Jeff Thompson: Oh wow. Pete Lane: Wow. John Kay: We took the reigns into our own hands and learned. I did not want to become a paralegal or para-accountant or any of those other things. Almost everybody in our 12-member organization, bus drivers, everybody, wore multiple hats, selling merchandise during the show or whatever. They were all quality people, and we learned how to fend for ourselves, and not just survive, but at a certain point, thrive. We knew exactly where the money was coming from and where it went. Nobody was running off with our loot to Ecuador. Jeff Thompson: What suggestions would you have for someone today who is interested in music like you were, driving your passion from Little Richard, Chuck Berry, all those people that inspired you to follow your passion? What suggestions in today's music world would you give to them? John Kay: Unfortunately, I wish I had some kind of a magic formula to impart to them, but obviously every situation is vastly different, is really I think in the end, I know people who are tremendously talented, vastly more talented than I am, who are not necessarily doing well. I've experienced in the early days where someone whose primary talent was to show up at every opportunity to pitch what they had to offer. It's one of those, “Did you go to that audition yesterday, this morning, or whatever?” “I had a really late-night last night. I'll go to the next one.” How many opportunities are gonna come your way? It's one of those. John Kay: The other thing is, do you have the fire in your belly to handle the ego-destroying rejections, because there are probably hundreds, if you were to take a poll of … Well-known singer-songwriter Nora Jones, that first album, which I love, was rejected I think by every label in town twice. There are stories like that all over the place. John Kay: How do you pick yourself up every morning after, “I'm sorry, it's just not radio-friendly,” or, “You don't really fit into our whatever.” You need to have a pretty intense flame of passion about what you are and what you have to offer. You need to be able to handle … John Kay: You may be the one that wins the lottery, where the first attempt reaches the right set of ears and you've got a partner in your career moving forward, but most likely you will be like so many of the baby acts these days, and some who have been around already for 10 years plus, which is you have to learn how to wear a lot of different hats, the social media stuff, the pitching your music on YouTube or whatever, to endlessly tour in clubs, to build a following, four of you sleeping in the van with the gear, whatever. It'll burn you out if you're not made of something that can handle those rigors. John Kay: Meantime, you have the temptations of, “I want to have a private life too,” depending on whether you're a female or male, an artist, “I met somebody I want to share my life with. At some point we want to have children. This band isn't getting me anywhere.” There are all these things that are strikes against your ability to prevail in this, unless you are one of those who's willing to take those beatings out there, in terms of the rejection and being often the response that you get from reviewers or whatever is not always positive, particularly if you're still in the process of really finding and tweaking who you are and what you have to offer. John Kay: If you're a singer doing other people's stuff, that's one thing. If you are a writer and you really have something to say, that may be an advantage in the sense that if it resonates, you may find what we found in the early days, which is, “Wow, you've become our musical spokesperson. When I play that song, it is my inner voice, having been give voice, by your voice.” If you're one of those who's able to put in words what moves you most, and there are lots of others out there that take your music as their personal soundtrack, then it may still be a long slog uphill, but usually that sort of thing spreads readily on social media. John Kay: We have the Wolf Pack. When we played our official 50th anniversary, celebrating the 50th anniversary of the formation of the band, when we played that official concert to commemorate that at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee last August, and the Wolf Pack fan club was notified of that. We had over 300 Wolf Pack fan members coming from all over North America and at least close to 70 or 80 of them coming all the way from Europe. They all know each other. They're all like the Dead Heads. They have a passion that they share with others. John Kay: If you are able as an artist to reach people in that kind of way where what you have to offer becomes more than just sheer entertainment, then I think your chances of making a go of it are pretty good. Some of more or less my contemporaries that are still writing, still out there, still loved, John Prine, John Hiatt, if you are one of those, or you're aspiring to become one of those, I wish you a lot of good fortune. John Kay: Sarah McLachlan song Angel, it has moved millions to tears. One of the verses that basically I'm paraphrasing, about when you're always being told you're not good enough, you're basically having the door slammed in your face all the time, and the self-doubt creeps in and nobody seems to get what it is you have to offer, those kind of things, they're hard on you. John Kay: You wouldn't want to be a writer, artist, player, whatever, singer, if you didn't have some degree of ego that says, “Hey, I've got something to offer, something to say. I'm up here. Do you like what I got?” That's rooted to some extent in your ego. If you have that ego under co

Episode 125 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Here Comes the Night", Them, the early career of Van Morrison, and the continuing success of Bert Berns.  Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-minute bonus episode available, on "Dirty Water" by the Standells. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Resources As usual, I've created a Mixcloud playlist, with full versions of all the songs excerpted in this episode. The information about Bert Berns comes from Here Comes the Night: The Dark Soul of Bert Berns and the Dirty Business of Rhythm and Blues by Joel Selvin. I've used two biographies of Van Morrison. Van Morrison: Into the Music by Ritchie Yorke is so sycophantic towards Morrison that the word "hagiography" would be, if anything, an understatement. Van Morrison: No Surrender by Johnny Rogan, on the other hand, is the kind of book that talks in the introduction about how the author has had to avoid discussing certain topics because of legal threats from the subject. I also used information from the liner notes to The Complete Them 1964-1967, which as the title suggests is a collection of all the recordings the group made while Van Morrison was in the band. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Today we're going to take a look at a band whose lead singer, sadly, is more controversial now than he was at the period we're looking at. I would normally not want to explicitly talk about current events upfront at the start of an episode, but Van Morrison has been in the headlines in the last few weeks for promoting dangerous conspiracy theories about covid, and has also been accused of perpetuating antisemitic stereotypes with a recent single.  So I would like to take this opportunity just to say that no positive comments I make about the Van Morrison of 1965 in this episode should be taken as any kind of approval of the Van Morrison of 2021 -- and this should also be taken as read for one of the similarly-controversial subjects of next week's episode...   Anyway, that aside, today we're going to take a look at the first classic rock and roll records made by a band from Northern Ireland, and at the links between the British R&B scene and the American Brill Building. We're going to look at Van Morrison, Bert Berns, and "Here Comes the Night" by Them:   [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"]   When we last looked at Bert Berns, he was just starting to gain some prominence in the East Coast recording scene with his productions for artists like Solomon Burke and the Isley Brothers. We've also, though it wasn't always made explicit, come across several of his productions when talking about other artists -- when Leiber and Stoller stopped working for Atlantic, Berns took over production of their artists, as well as all the other recordings he was making, and so many of the mid-sixties Drifters records we looked at in the episode on "Stand By Me" were Berns productions. But while he was producing soul classics in New York, Berns was also becoming aware of the new music coming from the United Kingdom -- in early 1963 he started receiving large royalty cheques for a cover version of his song "Twist and Shout" by some English band he'd never heard of. He decided that there was a market here for his songs, and made a trip to the UK, where he linked up with Dick Rowe at Decca.    While most of the money Berns had been making from "Twist and Shout" had been from the Beatles' version, a big chunk of it had also come from Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, the band that Rowe had signed to Decca instead of the Beatles. After the Beatles became big, the Tremeloes used the Beatles' arrangement of "Twist and Shout", which had been released on an album and an EP but not a single, and had a top ten hit with their own version of it:   [Excerpt: Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, "Twist and Shout"]   Rowe was someone who kept an eye on the American market, and saw that Berns was a great source of potential hits. He brought Berns over to the UK, and linked him up with Larry Page, the manager who gave Rowe an endless supply of teen idols, and with Phil Solomon, an Irish manager who had been the publicist for the crooner Ruby Murray, and had recently brought Rowe the group The Bachelors, who had had a string of hits like "Charmaine":   [Excerpt: The Bachelors, "Charmaine"]   Page, Solomon, and Rowe were currently trying to promote something called "Brum Beat", as a Birmingham rival to Mersey beat, and so all the acts Berns worked with were from Birmingham. The most notable of these acts was one called Gerry Levene and the Avengers. Berns wrote and produced the B-side of that group's only single, with Levene backed by session musicians, but I've been unable to find a copy of that B-side anywhere in the digital domain. However, the A-side, which does exist and wasn't produced by Berns, is of some interest:   [Excerpt: Gerry Levene and the Avengers, "Dr. Feelgood"]   The lineup of the band playing on that included guitarist Roy Wood, who would go on to be one of the most important and interesting British musicians of the later sixties and early seventies, and drummer Graeme Edge, who went on to join the Moody Blues. Apparently at another point, their drummer was John Bonham.   None of the tracks Berns recorded for Decca in 1963 had any real success, but Berns had made some useful contacts with Rowe and Solomon, and most importantly had met a British arranger, Mike Leander, who came over to the US to continue working with Berns, including providing the string arrangements for Berns' production of "Under the Boardwalk" for the Drifters:   [Excerpt: The Drifters, "Under the Boardwalk"]   In May 1964, the month when that track was recorded, Berns was about the only person keeping Atlantic Records afloat -- we've already seen that they were having little success in the mid sixties, but in mid-May, even given the British Invasion taking over the charts, Berns had five records in the Hot One Hundred as either writer or producer -- the Beatles' version of "Twist and Shout" was the highest charting, but he also had hits with "One Way Love" by the Drifters:   [Excerpt: The Drifters, "One Way Love"]   "That's When it Hurts" by Ben E. King:   [Excerpt: Ben E. King, "That's When it Hurts"]   "Goodbye Baby (Baby Goodbye)" by Solomon Burke:   [Excerpt: Solomon Burke, "Goodbye Baby (Baby Goodbye)"]   And "My Girl Sloopy" by the Vibrations:   [Excerpt: The Vibrations, "My Girl Sloopy"]   And a week after the production of "Under the Boardwalk", Berns was back in the studio with Solomon Burke, producing Burke's classic "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love", though that track would lead to a major falling-out with Burke, as Berns and Atlantic executive Jerry Wexler took co-writing credit they hadn't earned on Burke's song -- Berns was finally at the point in his career where he was big enough that he could start stealing Black men's credits rather than having to earn them for himself:   [Excerpt: Solomon Burke, "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love"]   Not everything was a hit, of course -- he wrote a dance track with Mike Leander, "Show Me Your Monkey", which was definitely not a big hit -- but he had a strike rate that most other producers and writers would have killed for. And he was also having hits in the UK with the new British Invasion bands -- the Animals had made a big hit from "Baby Let Me Take You Home", the old folk tune that Berns had rewritten for Hoagy Lands. And he was still in touch with Phil Solomon and Dick Rowe, both of whom came over to New York for Berns' wedding in July.   It might have been while they were at the wedding that they first suggested to Berns that he might be interested in producing a new band that Solomon was managing, named Them, and in particular their lead singer, Van Morrison.   Van Morrison was always a misfit, from his earliest days. He grew up in Belfast, a city that is notoriously divided along sectarian lines between a Catholic minority who (for the most part) want a united Ireland, and a Presbyterian majority who want Northern Ireland to remain part of the UK. But in a city where the joke goes that a Jewish person would be asked "but are you a Catholic Jew or a Protestant Jew?", Morrison was raised as a Jehovah's Witness, and for the rest of his life he would be resistant to fitting into any of the categories anyone tried to put him in, both for good and ill.   While most of the musicians from the UK we've looked at so far have been from middle-class backgrounds, and generally attended art school, Morrison had gone to a secondary modern school, and left at fourteen to become a window cleaner. But he had an advantage that many of his contemporaries didn't -- he had relatives living in America and Canada, and his father had once spent a big chunk of time working in Detroit, where at one point the Morrison family planned to move. This exposed Morrison senior to all sorts of music that would not normally be heard in the UK, and he returned with a fascination for country and blues music, and built up a huge record collection. Young Van Morrison was brought up listening to Hank Williams, Sister Rosetta Tharpe,  Jimmie Rodgers, Louis Jordan, Jelly Roll Morton, and his particular favourite, Lead Belly. The first record he bought with his own money was "Hootin' Blues" by the Sonny Terry Trio:   [Excerpt: The Sonny Terry Trio, "Hootin' Blues"]   Like everyone, Van Morrison joined a skiffle group, but he became vastly more ambitious in 1959 when he visited a relative in Canada. His aunt smuggled him into a nightclub where an actual American rock and roll group were playing -- Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks:   [Excerpt: Ronnie Hawkins, "Mary Lou"]   Hawkins had been inspired to get into the music business by his uncle Delmar, a fiddle player whose son, Dale Hawkins, we looked at back in episode sixty-three. His band, the Hawks, had a reputation as the hottest band in Canada -- at this point they were still all Americans, but other than their drummer Levon Helm they would soon be replaced one by one with Canadian musicians, starting with bass player Robbie Robertson.   Morrison was enthused and decided he was going to become a professional musician. He already played a bit of guitar, but started playing the saxophone too, as that was an instrument that would be more likely to get him work at this point.   He joined a showband called the Monarchs, as saxophone player and occasional vocalist. Showbands were a uniquely Irish phenomenon -- they were eight- or nine-piece groups, rhythm sections with a small horn section and usually a couple of different singers, who would play every kind of music for dancing, ranging from traditional pop to country and western to rock and roll, and would also perform choreographed dance routines and comedy sketches.    The Monarchs were never a successful band, but they managed to scrape a living playing the Irish showband circuit, and in the early sixties they travelled to Germany, where audiences of Black American servicemen wanted them to play more soulful music like songs by Ray Charles, an opportunity Morrison eagerly grabbed. It was also a Black American soldier who introduced Morrison to the music of Bobby Bland, whose "Turn on Your Love Light" was soon introduced to the band's set:   [Excerpt Bobby "Blue" Bland, "Turn on Your Love Light"]   But they were still mostly having to play chart hits by Billy J Kramer or Gerry and the Pacemakers, and Morrison was getting frustrated. The Monarchs did get a chance to record a single in Germany, as Georgie and the Monarchs, with another member, George Jones (not the famous country singer) singing lead, but the results were not impressive:   [Excerpt: Georgie and the Monarchs, "O Twingy Baby"]   Morrison moved between several different showbands, but became increasingly dissatisfied with what he was doing. Then another showband he was in, the Manhattan Showband, briefly visited London, and Morrison and several of his bandmates went to a club called Studio 51, run by Ken Colyer. There they saw a band called The Downliners Sect, who had hair so long that the Manhattan members at first thought they were a girl group, until their lead singer came on stage wearing a deerstalker hat. The Downliners Sect played exactly the kind of aggressive R&B that Morrison thought he should be playing:   [Excerpt: The Downliners Sect, "Be a Sect Maniac"]   Morrison asked if he could sit in with the group on harmonica, but was refused -- and this was rather a pattern with the Downliners Sect, who had a habit of attracting harmonica players who wanted to be frontmen. Both Rod Stewart and Steve Marriott did play harmonica with the group for a while, and wanted to join full-time, but were refused as they clearly wanted to be lead singers and the group didn't need another one of them.   On returning to Belfast, Morrison decided that he needed to start his own R&B band, and his own R&B club night. At first he tried to put together a sort of supergroup of showband regulars, but most of the musicians he approached weren't interested in leaving their steady gigs. Eventually, he joined a band called the Gamblers, led by guitarist and vocalist Billy Harrison. The Gamblers had started out as an instrumental group, playing rock and roll in the style of Johnny and the Hurricanes, but they'd slowly been moving in a more R&B direction, and playing Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley material. Morrison joined the group on saxophone and vocals -- trading off leads with Harrison -- and the group renamed themselves after a monster movie from a few years before:   [Excerpt: THEM! trailer]   The newly renamed Them took up a regular gig at the Maritime Hotel, a venue which had previously attracted a trad jazz crowd, and quickly grew a substantial local following. Van Morrison later often said that their residency at the Maritime was the only time Them were any good, but that period was remarkably short -- three months after their first gig, the group had been signed to a management, publishing, and production deal with Philip Solomon, who called in Dick Rowe to see them in Belfast. Rowe agreed to the same kind of licensing deal with Solomon that Andrew Oldham had already got from him for the Stones -- Them would record for Solomon's company, and Decca would license the recordings.   This also led to the first of the many, many, lineup changes that would bedevil the group for its short existence -- between 1964 and 1966 there were eighteen different members of the group. Eric Wrixon, the keyboard player, was still at school, and his parents didn't think he should become a musician, so while he came along to the first recording session, he didn't sign the contract because he wasn't allowed to stay with the group once his next term at school started. However, he wasn't needed -- while Them's guitarist and bass player were allowed to play on the records, Dick Rowe brought in session keyboard player Arthur Greenslade and drummer Bobby Graham -- the same musicians who had augmented the Kinks on their early singles -- to play with them.   The first single, a cover version of Slim Harpo's "Don't Start Crying Now", did precisely nothing commercially:   [Excerpt: Them, "Don't Start Crying Now"]   The group started touring the UK, now as Decca recording artistes, but they almost immediately started to have clashes with their management. Phil Solomon was not used to aggressive teenage R&B musicians, and didn't appreciate things like them just not turning up for one gig they were booked for, saying to them "The Bachelors never missed a date in their lives. One of them even had an accident on their way to do a pantomime in Bristol and went on with his leg in plaster and twenty-one stitches in his head."   Them were not particularly interested in performing in pantomimes in Bristol, or anywhere else, but the British music scene was still intimately tied in with the older showbiz tradition, and Solomon had connections throughout that industry -- as well as owning a publishing and production company he was also a major shareholder in Radio Caroline, one of the pirate radio stations that broadcast from ships anchored just outside British territorial waters to avoid broadcasting regulations, and his father was a major shareholder in Decca itself.    Given Solomon's connections, it wasn't surprising that Them were chosen to be one of the Decca acts produced by Bert Berns on his next UK trip in August 1964. The track earmarked for their next single was their rearrangement of "Baby Please Don't Go", a Delta blues song that had originally been recorded in 1935 by Big Joe Williams and included on the Harry Smith Anthology:   [Excerpt: Big Joe Williams' Washboard Blues Singers , "Baby Please Don't Go"]   though it's likely that Them had learned it from Muddy Waters' version, which is much closer to theirs:   [Excerpt: Muddy Waters, "Baby Please Don't Go"]   Bert Berns helped the group tighten up their arrangement, which featured a new riff thought up by Billy Harrison, and he also brought in a session guitarist, Jimmy Page, to play rhythm guitar. Again he used a session drummer, this time Andy White who had played on "Love Me Do". Everyone agreed that the result was a surefire hit:   [Excerpt: Them, "Baby Please Don't Go"]   At the session with Berns, Them cut several other songs, including some written by Berns, but it was eventually decided that the B-side should be a song of Morrison's, written in tribute to his dead cousin Gloria, which they'd recorded at their first session with Dick Rowe:   [Excerpt: Them, "Gloria"]   "Baby Please Don't Go" backed with "Gloria" was one of the great double-sided singles of the sixties, but it initially did nothing on the charts, and the group were getting depressed at their lack of success, Morrison and Harrison were constantly arguing as each thought of himself as the leader of the group, and the group's drummer quit in frustration. Pat McAuley, the group's new keyboard player, switched to drums, and brought in his brother Jackie to replace him on keyboards.    To make matters worse, while "Baby Please Don't Go" had flopped, the group had hoped that their next single would be one of the songs they'd recorded with Berns, a Berns song called "Here Comes the Night". Unfortunately for them, Berns had also recorded another version of it for Decca, this one with Lulu, a Scottish singer who had recently had a hit with a cover of the Isley Brothers' "Shout!", and her version was released as a single:   [Excerpt: Lulu, "Here Comes the Night"]   Luckily for Them, though unluckily for Lulu, her record didn't make the top forty, so there was still the potential for Them to release their version of it.   Phil Solomon hadn't given up on "Baby Please Don't Go", though, and he began a media campaign for the record. He moved the group into the same London hotel where Jimmy Savile was staying -- Savile is now best known for his monstrous crimes, which I won't go into here except to say that you shouldn't google him if you don't know about them, but at the time he was Britain's most popular DJ, the presenter of Top of the Pops, the BBC's major TV pop show, and a columnist in a major newspaper. Savile started promoting Them, and they would later credit him with a big part of their success.   But Solomon was doing a lot of other things to promote the group as well. He part-owned Radio Caroline, and so "Baby Please Don't Go" went into regular rotation on the station. He called in a favour with the makers of Ready Steady Go! and got "Baby Please Don't Go" made into the show's new theme tune for two months, and soon the record, which had been a flop on its first release, crawled its way up into the top ten.   For the group's next single, Decca put out their version of "Here Comes the Night", and that was even more successful, making it all the way to number two on the charts, and making the American top thirty:   [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"]   As that was at its chart peak, the group also performed at the NME Poll-Winners' Party at Wembley Stadium, a show hosted by Savile and featuring The Moody Blues, Freddie and the Dreamers, Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames, Herman's Hermits, Cilla Black, Donovan, The Searchers, Dusty Springfield, The Animals,The Kinks, the Rolling Stones, and the Beatles, among others. Even on that bill, reviewers singled out Them's seven-minute performance of Bobby Bland's "Turn on Your Love Light" for special praise, though watching the video of it it seems a relatively sloppy performance.   But the group were already starting to fall apart. Jackie McAuley was sacked from the group shortly after that Wembley show -- according to some of the group, because of his use of amphetamines, but it's telling that when the Protestant bass player Alan Henderson told the Catholic McAuley he was out of the group, he felt the need to emphasise that "I've got nothing against" -- and then use a term that's often regarded as an anti-Catholic slur...   On top of this, the group were also starting to get a bad reputation among the press -- they would simply refuse to answer questions, or answer them in monosyllables, or just swear at journalists. Where groups like the Rolling Stones carefully cultivated a "bad boy" image, but were doing so knowingly and within carefully delineated limits, Them were just unpleasant and rude because that's who they were.   Bert Berns came back to the UK to produce a couple of tracks for the group's first album, but he soon had to go back to America, as he had work to do there -- he'd just started up his own label, a rival to Red Bird, called BANG, which stood for Bert, Ahmet, Neshui, Gerald -- Berns had co-founded it with the Ertegun brothers and Jerry Wexler, though he soon took total control over it. BANG had just scored a big hit with "I Want Candy" by the Strangeloves, a song Berns had co-written:   [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"]   And the Strangeloves in turn had discovered a singer called Rick Derringer, and Bang put out a single by him under the name "The McCoys", using a backing track Berns had produced as a Strangeloves album track, their version of his earlier hit "My Girl Sloopy". The retitled "Hang on Sloopy" went to number one:   [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"]   Berns was also getting interested in signing a young Brill Building songwriter named Neil Diamond... The upshot was that rather than continuing to work with Berns, Them were instead handed over to Tommy Scott, an associate of Solomon's who'd sung backing vocals on "Here Comes the Night", but who was best known for having produced "Terry" by Twinkle:   [Excerpt: Twinkle, "Terry"]   The group were not impressed with Scott's productions, and their next two singles flopped badly, not making the charts at all. Billy Harrison and Morrison were becoming less and less able to tolerate each other, and eventually Morrison and Henderson forced Harrison out. Pat McAuley quit two weeks later,    The McAuley brothers formed their own rival lineup of Them, which initially also featured Billy Harrison, though he soon left, and they got signed to a management contract with Reg Calvert, a rival of Solomon's who as well as managing several pop groups also owned Radio City, a pirate station that was in competition with Radio Caroline. Calvert registered the trademark in the name Them, something that Solomon had never done for the group, and suddenly there was a legal dispute over the name.   Solomon retaliated by registering trademarks for the names "The Fortunes" and "Pinkerton's Assorted Colours" -- two groups Calvert managed -- and putting together rival versions of those groups. However the problem soon resolved itself, albeit tragically -- Calvert got into a huge row with Major Oliver Smedley, a failed right-libertarian politician who, when not co-founding the Institute for Economic Affairs and quitting the Liberal Party for their pro-European stance and left-wing economics, was one of Solomon's co-directors of Radio Caroline. Smedley shot Calvert, killing him, and successfully pled self-defence at his subsequent trial. The jury let Smedley off after only a minute of deliberation, and awarded Smedley two hundred and fifty guineas to pay for his costs.   The McAuley brothers' group renamed themselves to Them Belfast -- and the word beginning with g that some Romany people regard as a slur for their ethnic group -- and made some records, mostly only released in Sweden, produced by Kim Fowley, who would always look for any way to cash in on a hit record, and wrote "Gloria's Dream" for them:   [Excerpt: Them Belfast G***ies, "Gloria's Dream"]   Morrison and Henderson continued their group, and had a surprise hit in the US when Decca issued "Mystic Eyes", an album track they'd recorded for their first album, as a single in the US, and it made the top forty:   [Excerpt: Them, "Mystic Eyes"]   On the back of that, Them toured the US, and got a long residency at the Whisky a Go-Go in LA, where they were supported by a whole string of the Sunset Strip's most exciting new bands -- Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, The Association, Buffalo Springfield, and the Doors. The group became particularly friendly with the Doors, with the group's new guitarist getting thrown out of clubs with Jim Morrison for shouting "Johnny Rivers is a wanker!" at Rivers while Rivers was on stage, and Jim Morrison joining them on stage for duets, though the Doors were staggered at how much the Belfast group could drink -- their drink bill for their first week at the Whisky A Go-Go was $5400.   And those expenses caused problems, because Van Morrison agreed before the tour started that he would be on a fixed salary, paid by Phil Solomon, and Solomon would get all the money from the promoters. But then Morrison found out how much Solomon was making, and decided that it wasn't fair that Solomon would get all that money when Morrison was only getting the comparatively small amount he'd agreed to. When Tommy Scott, who Solomon had sent over to look after the group on tour, tried to collect the takings from the promoters, he was told "Van Morrison's already taken the money".    Solomon naturally dropped the group, who continued touring the US without any management, and sued them. Various Mafia types offered to take up the group's management contract, and even to have Solomon murdered, but the group ended up just falling apart.    Van Morrison quit the group, and Alan Henderson struggled on for another five years with various different lineups of session men, recording albums as Them which nobody bought. He finally stopped performing as Them in 1972. He reunited with Billy Harrison and Eric Wrixon, the group's original keyboardist, in 1979, and they recorded another album and toured briefly. Wrixon later formed another lineup of Them, which for a while included Billy Harrison, and toured with that group, billed as Them The Belfast Blues Band, until Wrixon's death in 2015.   Morrison, meanwhile, had other plans. Now that Them's two-year contract with Solomon was over, he wanted to have the solo career people had been telling him he deserved. And he knew how he was going to do it. All along, he'd thought that Bert Berns had been the only person in the music industry who understood him as an artist, and now of course Berns had his own record label. Van Morrison was going to sign to BANG Records, and he was going to work again with Bert Berns, the man who was making hits for everyone he worked with.   But the story of "Brown-Eyed Girl", and Van Morrison going solo, and the death of Bert Berns, is a story for another time...

Low Cut Connie is an American rock and roll band based in Philadelphia, United States, which was formed in 2010. The band has been recognized by various media in the US for their records and high-energy live show, of which the Los Angeles Weekly said "Their ferocious live show...is unmatched in all of rock right now.” Frontman, pianist, songwriter Adam Weiner has been described by NPR music as “masterfully fluent in the foundational languages of Western pop, living at the crossroads where the church house meets the roadhouse, or where the Dew Drop Inn meets CBGB.” Essentially a solo project for Weiner, the band is known for appearing on Barack Obama's list of favorite songs, and their association with Elton John who has called the band one of his favorites. https://lowcutconnie.com/ THE CAREER MUSICIAN WEBSITE: https://thecareermusician.com/ LISTEN TO THIS PODCAST: https://tinyurl.com/TCM-Podcast-MainPage

Iconic drummer John Densmore joins Raghu Markus for a Mindrolling conversation that touches on the primal drumbeat of life, the poetry and complexity of Jim Morrison, and why silence is golden.John Densmore is best known for his iconic work as the drummer for the American rock and roll band, The Doors. On top of his musical successes, John is also an accomplished author, poet, playwright, and actor. His most recent book, The Seekers: Meetings with Remarkable Musicians (and Other Artists), investigates his own relationship with creativity and explores the meaning of artistry with other artists and performers.

Low Cut Connie is an American rock and roll band based in Philadelphia, United States, which was formed in 2010. The band has been recognized by various media in the US for their records and high-energy live show, of which the Los Angeles Weekly said "Their ferocious live show...is unmatched in all of rock right now.” Frontman, pianist, songwriter Adam Weiner has been described by NPR music as “masterfully fluent in the foundational languages of Western pop, living at the crossroads where the church house meets the roadhouse, or where the Dew Drop Inn meets CBGB.” Essentially a solo project for Weiner, the band is known for appearing on Barack Obama's list of favorite songs, and their association with Elton John who has called the band one of his favorites. https://lowcutconnie.com/ THE CAREER MUSICIAN WEBSITE: https://thecareermusician.com/ LISTEN TO THIS PODCAST: https://tinyurl.com/TCM-Podcast-MainPage 0:00:00 Low Cut Connie Intro 0:00:50 Blues Count-in! 0:01:00 Profanities... he-he 0:01:30 Keeping is clean for NPR 0:02:00 Elton John,Bruce Springsteen, and Barack Obama love Low Cut Connie 0:03:00 Having an appreciation for working hard for success 0:04:20 Moving to New York to make it in music 0:05:30 Adam making the switch from sideman to artist 0:07:00 Nomad making the switch from sideman to artist 0:07:45 Adam on that one time when he made an album in secret 0:09:30 Getting serious about the music industry 0:10:00 Adam moving to Philadelphia 0:10:30 Adam getting boo'd off stage 0:11:45 Training with hostile audiences 0:13:45 The Shadow Boys album 0:14:30 Adam's favorite book of Prince's daily logs recording Purple Rain (1983-1984) 0:16:00 Finish what you start! 0:18:00 A day in the life of Adam 0:18:50 Mazel Tov Motherfuckers! 0:19:30 Wanna be successful? Get up early! 0:20:00 The Low Cut Connie team 0:20:30 Strategy and being ahead of the curve 0:21:30 Adam's practice regiment 0:24:00 Elton John story 0:25:00 Bon Jovi and Tony Bennett story 0:26:00 How do you find time for yourself? 0:27:50 Low Cut Connie on Seth Myers 0:28:00 Modeling after Mick Jagger, Tina Turner, Little Richard 0:30:00 Mid-roll 0:30:50 Do what you feel, don't try to please people 0:31:30 Adam's quarantine activities 0:32:00 Tough Cookies live stream show 0:36:20 Adam's podcast 0:36:50 Patty Jackson Philadelphia Radio DJ – WDAS 0:38:00 How to be a broadcaster during sensitive times 0:39:00 Interviewing Beyonce's dad, Matthew Knowles 0:40:30 Sam Cooke story 0:41:00 Black culture is the root of American music. 0:41:50 We need to have difficult social conversations in order for music to flourish 0:42:30 Woman are the future of Rock n Roll 0:43:50 What's Low Cut Connie up to in 2021? 0:44:20 10th anniversary vinyl release of "Get Out The Lotion" album 0:44:50 Performance residency at the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame 0:45:00 Sold out "Private Lives" album 0:46:00 Words of wisdom for new artists 0:46:30 Time to face reality! 0:46:50 Beyonce's early days 0:49:00 Dolly Parton, Paul McCartney, Babyface, and Bruce Springsteen 0:50:30 Being an artist is a blessing and a curse 0:52:00 SXSW Kat Graham and Adam story 0:54:00 Rapid fire! 0:55:30 Closing @thecareermusician @nomadsplace

Hello!Alex talks to Kyle Gordon, the Atlanta musician behind the American rock and roll band MammabearFeatures the song "Wish I"

Note: This is a new version because I uploaded the wrong file originally   Episode seventy-one of A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs continues our look at British music TV by looking at the first time it affected American R&B, and is also our final look at Johnny Otis. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Short Shorts” by the Royal Teens, a group whose members went on to be far more important than one might expect.  Also, this is the first of hopefully many podcasts to come where Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/  —-more—-   Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode.  Much of the information on Otis comes from Midnight at the Barrelhouse: The Johnny Otis Story by George Lipsitz.  I’ve also referred extensively to two books by Otis himself, Listen to the Lambs, and Upside Your Head! Rhythm and Blues on Central Avenue. I’ve used two main books on the British side of things:  Pete Frame’s The Restless Generation is the best book available looking at British 50s rock and roll from a historical perspective. Be warned, though — his jokey and irreverent style can, when dealing with people like Larry Parnes (who was gay and Jewish) very occasionally tip over into reinforcing homophobic and anti-semitic stereotypes for an easy laugh. Billy Bragg’s Roots, Radicals, and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World is one of the best books I’ve read on music at all, and talks about the problems between the musicians’ unions. This three-CD set provides a great overview of Otis’ forties and fifties work, both as himself and with other artists. Many of the titles will be very familiar to listeners of this podcast.   Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript And so we come to our last look at Johnny Otis, one of those people who has been turning up throughout the early episodes of the podcast. Indeed, he may continue to appear intermittently until at least the late sixties, as an influence and occasional collaborator. But the days of his influence on rock and roll music more or less came to an end with the rise of the rockabillies in the mid fifties, and from this point on he was not really involved in the mainstream of rock and roll. But in one of those curious events that happens sometimes, just as Otis was coming to the end of the run of hits he produced or arranged or performed on for other people, and the run of discoveries that changed music, he had a rock and roll hit under his own name for the first and only time. And that hit was because of the Six-Five Special, the British TV show we talked about last week: [Excerpt: Johnny Otis, “Willie and the Hand Jive”] The way this podcast works, telling stories chronologically and introducing new artists as they come along, can sometimes make it seem like the music business in the fifties was in a constant state of revolution, with a new year zero coming up every year or two. “First-wave rockabilly is *so* January through August 1956, we’re into late 1958 and everything’s prototype soul now, granddad!” But of course the majority of the podcast so far has looked at a very small chunk of time, concentrating on the mid 1950s, and plenty of people who were making hits in 1955 were still having very active careers as of 1958, and that’s definitely the case for Johnny Otis. While he didn’t have that many big hits after rockabilly took over from R&B as the predominant form of rock and roll music, he was still making important records. For example, in 1957 he produced and co-wrote “Lonely, Lonely Nights” for Little Julian Herrera and the Tigers, which became a local hit, and which he thought at the time was the first big record to feature a Chicano singer. We’re going to talk about the Chicano identity in future episodes of the show, but Chicano (or Chicana or Chicanx) is a term that is usually used for Americans of Mexican origin. It can be both an ethnic and a cultural identifier, and it has also been used in the past as a racial slur. It’s still seen as that by some people, but it’s also the chosen identifier for a lot of people who reject other labels like Hispanic or Latino. To the best of my knowledge, it’s a word that is considered acceptable and correct for white people to use when talking about people who identify that way — which, to be clear, not all Americans of Mexican descent do, by any means — but I’m very happy to have feedback about this from people who are affected by the word. And Little Julian Herrera did identify that way, and he became a hero among the Chicano population in LA when “Lonely Lonely Nights” came out on Dig Records, a label Otis owned: [Excerpt: Little Julian Herrera and the Tigers, “Lonely, Lonely Nights”] But it turned out shortly afterwards that Herrera wasn’t exactly what he seemed. Police came to Otis’ door, and told him that the person he knew as Julian Herrera was wanted on charges of rape. And not only that, his birth name was Ron Gregory, and he was of Jewish ethnicity, and from a Hungarian-American family from Massachusetts. Apparently at some point he had run away from home and travelled to LA, where he had been taken in by a Mexican-American woman who had raised him as if he were her own son. That was pretty much the end of Little Julian Herrera’s career — and indeed shortly after that, Dig Records itself closed down, and Otis had no record contract. But then fate intervened, in the form of Mickey Katz. Mickey Katz was a comedian, who is now probably best known for his famous family — his son is Joel Grey, the star of Cabaret, while his granddaughter, Jennifer Grey, starred in Dirty Dancing and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Katz’s comedy consisted of him performing parodies of currently-popular songs, giving them new lyrics referencing Jewish culture. A typical example is his version of “Sixteen Tons”, making it about working at a deli instead of down a mine: [Excerpt: Mickey Katz, “Sixteen Tons”] Even though Katz’s music was about as far from Otis’ as one can imagine, Katz had been a serious musician before he went into comedy, and when he went to see Otis perform live, he recognised his talent as a bandleader, and called his record label, urging them to sign him. Katz was on Capitol, one of the biggest labels in the country, and so for the first time in many years, Otis had guaranteed major-label distribution for his records. In October 1957, Capitol took the unusual step of releasing four Johnny Otis singles at the same time, each of them featuring a different vocalist from his large stable of performers. None did especially well on the American charts at the time, but one, featuring Marie Adams and the Three Tons of Joy, would have a major impact on Otis’ career. Marie Adams was someone who had been on the R&B scene for many years, and had been working with Otis in his show since 1953. She’d been born Ollie Marie Givens, but dropped the Ollie early on. She was a shy woman, who had to be pushed by her husband to audition for Don Robey at Peacock Records. Robey had challenged her to sing along with Dinah Washington’s record “Harbor Lights”: [Excerpt: Dinah Washington, “Harbor Lights”] When she’d proved she could sing that, Robey signed her, hoping that he’d have a second Big Mama Thornton on his hands. And her first single seemed to confirm him in that hope — “I’m Gonna Play the Honky Tonks” went to number three on the R&B chart and became one of the biggest hit records Peacock had ever released: [Excerpt: Marie Adams, “I’m Gonna Play the Honky Tonks”] But her later career with Peacock was less successful. The follow-up was a version of Johnny Ace’s “My Song”, which seems to have been chosen more because Don Robey owned the publishing than because the song and arrangement were a good fit for her voice, and it didn’t do anything much commercially: [Excerpt: Marie Adams, “My Song” Like many of Peacock’s artists who weren’t selling wonderfully she was handed over to Johnny Otis to produce, in the hopes that he could get her making hits. Sadly, he couldn’t, and her final record for Peacock came in 1955, when Otis produced her on one of many records recorded to cash in on Johnny Ace’s death, “In Memory”: [Excerpt: Marie Adams, “In Memory”] But that did so poorly that it’s never had an official rerelease, not even on a digital compilation I have which has half a dozen other tributes to Ace on it by people like Vanetta Dillard and Linda Hayes. Adams was dropped by her record label, but she was impressive enough as a vocalist that Otis — who always had an ear for great singing — kept her in his band, as the lead singer of a vocal trio, the Three Tons of Joy, who were so called because they were all extremely fat. (I say this not as a criticism of them. I’m fat myself and absolutely fat-positive. Fat isn’t a term of abuse in my book). There seems to be some debate about the identity of the other two in the Three Tons of Joy. I’ve seen reliable sources refer to them as two sisters, Sadie and Francine McKinley, and as *Adams’* two sisters, Doris and Francine, and have no way of determining which of these is correct. The three of them would do synchronised dancing, even when they weren’t singing, and they remained with Otis’ show until 1960. And so when Capitol came to release its first batch of Johnny Otis records, one of them had vocals by Marie Adams and the Three Tons of Joy. The song in question was “Ma! He’s Making Eyes At Me”, a vaudeville song which dated back to 1921, and had originally sounded like this: [Excerpt: Billy Jones, “Ma! She’s Making Eyes at Me”] In the hands of the Otis band and the Three Tons of Joy, it was transformed into something that owed more to Ruth Brown (especially with Marie Adams’ pronunciation of “mama”) than to any of the other performers who had recorded versions of the song over the decades: [Excerpt: Johnny Otis and his Orchestra with Marie Adams and the Three Tons of Joy: “Ma, He’s Making Eyes At Me”] In the US, that did nothing at all on the charts, but for some reason it took off massively in the UK, and went to number two on the pop charts over here. It was so successful, in fact, that there were plans for a Johnny Otis Show tour of the UK in 1958. Those plans failed, because of something I’ve not mentioned in this podcast before, but which radically shaped British music culture, and to a lesser extent American music culture, for decades. Both the American Federation of Musicians and their British equivalent, the Musicians’ Union, had since the early 1930s had a mutual protectionist agreement which prevented musicians from one of the countries playing in the other. After the Duke Ellington band toured the UK in 1933, the ban came into place on both sides. Certain individual non-instrumental performers from one country could perform in the other, but only if they employed musicians from the other country. So for example Glenn Miller got his first experience of putting together a big band because Ray Noble, a British bandleader, had had hits in the US in the mid thirties. Noble and his vocalist Al Bowlly were allowed to travel to the US, but Noble’s band wasn’t, and so he had to get an American musician, Miller, to put together a new band. Similarly, when Johnnie Ray had toured the UK in the early fifties, he’d had to employ British musicians, and when Lonnie Donegan had toured the US on the back of “Rock Island Line”‘s success, he was backed by Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio — Donegan was allowed to sing, but not allowed to play guitar. In 1955, the two unions finally came to a one-in-one-out agreement, which would last for the next few decades, where musicians from each country could tour, but only as a like-for-like swap. So Louis Armstrong was allowed to tour the UK, but only on condition that Freddie Randall, a trumpet player from Devon, got to tour the US. Stan Kenton’s band toured the UK, while the Ted Heath Orchestra (which was not, I should point out, led by the Prime Minister of the same name) toured the US. We can argue over whether Freddie Randall was truly an adequate substitute for Louis Armstrong, but I’m sure you can see the basic idea. The union was making sure that Armstrong wasn’t taking a job that would otherwise have gone to a British trumpeter. Similarly, when Bill Haley and the Comets became the first American rock and roll group to tour the UK, in 1957, Lonnie Donegan was allowed to tour the US again, and this time he could play his guitar. The Three Tons of Joy went over to the UK to appear on the Six-Five Special, backed by British musicians and to scout out some possible tour venues with Otis’ manager, but the plans fell through because of the inability to find a British group who could reasonably do a swap with Otis’ band. They came back to the US, and cut a follow-up to “Ma, He’s Making Eyes at Me”, with vocals by Marie and Johnny Otis: [Excerpt: Johnny Otis and Marie Adams, “Bye Bye Baby”] That’s an example of what Johnny Otis meant when he said later that he didn’t like most of his Capitol recordings, because he was being pushed too far in a commercial rock and roll direction, while he saw himself as far closer in spirit to Count Basie, Lionel Hampton, or Louis Jordan than to Elvis Presley or Buddy Holly. The song is just an endless litany of the titles of recentish rock and roll hits, with little to recommend it. It made the top twenty in the UK, mostly on the strength of people having bought the previous single. The record after that was an attempt to capitalise on “Ma! He’s Making Eyes At Me” — it was another oldie, this time from 1916, and another song about making eyes at someone. Surely it would give them another UK hit, right?: [Excerpt: Marie Adams, “What Do You Want To Make Those Eyes At Me For?”] Sadly, it sank without a trace — at least until it was picked up by Emile Ford and the Checkmates, who released a soundalike cover version, which became the last British number one of the fifties and first of the sixties, and was also the first number one hit by a black British artist and the first record by a black British person to sell a million copies: [Excerpt: Emile Ford and the Checkmates, “What Do You Want To Make Those Eyes At Me For?”] We’ll be hearing more from Ford’s co-producer on that record, a young engineer named Joe Meek, later in the series. But Otis had another idea for how to crack the British market. While the Three Tons of Joy had been performing on Six-Five Special, they had seen the British audiences doing a weird dance that only used their arms. It was a dance that was originally popularised by a British group that was so obscure that they never made a record, and the only trace they left on posterity was this dance and three photos, all taken on the same night by, of all people, Ken Russell. From those photos, the Bell Cats were one of the many British bands trying to sound like Bill Haley and the Comets. Their regular gig was at a coffee house called The Cat’s Whisker, where they were popular enough that the audience were packed in like sardines — the venue was so often dangerously overcrowded that the police eventually shut it down, and the owner reopened it as the first Angus Steak House, an infamous London restaurant chain. In those Bell Cats performances, the audience were packed so tightly that they couldn’t dance properly, and so a new dance developed among the customers, and spread — a dance where you only moved your hands. The hand jive. That dance spread to the audiences of the Six-Five Special, so much that Don Lang and his Frantic Five released “Six-Five Hand Jive” in March 1958: [Excerpt: Don Lang and His Frantic Five, “Six-Five Hand Jive”] Oddly, despite Six-Five Special not being shown in Sweden, that song saw no less than three Swedish soundalike cover versions, from (and I apologise if I mangle these names) Inger Bergrenn, Towa Carson, and the Monn-Keys. The Three Tons of Joy demonstrated the hand jive to Otis, and he decided to write a song about the dance. There was a fad for dance songs in 1958, and he believed that writing a song about a dance that was popular in Britain, where he’d just had a big hit — and namechecking those other dances, like the Walk and the Stroll — could lead to a hit followup to “Ma He’s Making Eyes At Me”. The dance also appealed to Otis because, oddly, it was very reminiscent of some of the moves that black American people would do when performing “Hambone”, the folk dance-cum-song-cum-game that we discussed way back in episode thirty, and which inspired Bo Diddley’s song “Bo Didlley”. Otis coupled lyrics about hand-jiving to the Bo Diddley rhythm — though he would always claim, for the rest of his life, that he’d heard that rhythm from convicts on a chain gang before Diddley ever made a record: [Excerpt: Johnny Otis, “Willie and the Hand Jive”] Surprisingly, the record did nothing at all commercially in the UK. In fact, its biggest impact over here was that it inspired another famous dance. Cliff Richard cut his own version of “Willie and the Hand Jive” in 1959: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard and the Shadows, “Willie and the Hand Jive”] His backing band, the Shadows, were looking for a way to liven up the visual presentation of that song when they performed it live, and they decided that moving in unison would work well for the song, and worked out a few dance steps. The audience reaction was so great that they started doing it on every song. The famous — or infamous — Shadows Walk had developed. But while “Willie and the Hand Jive” didn’t have any success in the UK, in the US it became Otis’ only top ten pop hit, and his first R&B top ten hit as a performer in six years, reaching number nine on the pop charts and number one on the R&B charts. This was despite several radio stations banning it, as they assumed the “hand jive” was a reference to masturbation — even though on Otis’ TV shows and his stage performances, the Three Tons of Joy would demonstrate the dance as Otis sang. As late as the nineties, Otis was still having to deal with questions about whether “Willie and the Hand Jive” had some more lascivious meaning. Of course, with him now being on a major label, he had to do follow-ups to his big hit, like “Willie Did The Cha-Cha”: [Excerpt: Johnny Otis, “Willie Did The Cha-Cha”] But chart success remained elusive, and nothing he did after this point got higher than number fifty-two on the pop charts. The music industry was slowly moving away from the kind of music that Otis had always made — as genres got narrower, his appreciation for all forms of black American music meant that he no longer appealed to people who wanted one specific style of music. He was also becoming increasingly involved in the civil rights movement, writing a weekly newspaper column decrying racism, helping his friend Mervyn Dymally who became the joint first black person elected to statewide office in the USA since the reconstruction, and working with Malcolm X and others. He had to deal with crosses burning on his lawn, and with death threats to his family — while Otis was white, his wife was black. The result was that Otis recorded and toured only infrequently during the sixties, and at one point was making so little as a musician that his wife became the main breadwinner of the family while he was a stay-at-home father. After the Watts riots in 1965, which we’ll talk about much more when we get to that time period, Otis wrote the book Listen to the Lambs, a combination political essay, autobiography, and mixture of eyewitness accounts of the riots that made a radical case that the first priority for the black community in which he lived wasn’t so much social integration, which he believed impossible in the short term due to white racism, as economic equality — he thought it was in the best interests, not only of black people but of white people as well, if black people were made equal economic participants in America as rapidly as humanly possible, and if they should be given economic and political control over their own lives and destinies. The book is fierce in its anger at systemic racism, at colonialism, at anglocentric beauty standards that made black people hate their own bodies and faces, at police brutality, at the war in Vietnam, and at the systemic inequalities keeping black people down. And over and again he makes one point, and I’ll quote from the book here: “A newborn Negro baby has less chance of survival than a white. A Negro baby will have its life ended seven years sooner. This is not some biological phenomenon linked to skin colour, like sickle-cell anaemia; this is a national crime, linked to a white-supremacist way of life and compounded by indifference”. Just to remind you, the word he uses there was the correct word for black people at the time he was writing. Some of the book is heartrending, like the description from a witness — Otis gives over thirty pages of the book to the voices of black witnesses of the riots — talking about seeing white police officers casually shoot black teenagers on the street and make bullseye signals to their friends as if they’d been shooting tin cans. Some is, more than fifty years later, out of date or “of its time”, but the sad thing is that so many of the arguments are as timely now as they were then. Otis wrote a follow-up, Upside Your Head, in the early nineties inspired by the LA riots that followed the Rodney King beating, and no doubt were he alive today he would be completing the trilogy. But while politics had become Otis’ main occupation, he hadn’t stopped making music altogether, and in the late sixties he was contacted by Frank Zappa, who was such a fan of Otis that he copied his trademark beard from Otis. Otis and Zappa worked together in a casual way, with Otis mostly helping Zappa get in touch with musicians he knew who Zappa wanted to work with, like Don “Sugarcane” Harris. Otis also conducted the Mothers of Invention in the studio on a few songs while Zappa was in the control room, helping him get the greasy fifties sound he wanted on songs like “Holiday in Berlin”: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, “Holiday in Berlin, Full Blown”] Apparently while they were recording that, Otis was clapping his hands in the face of the bass player, Roy Estrada, who didn’t like it at all. Given what I know of Estrada that’s a good thing. Otis’ teenage son Shuggie also played with Zappa, playing bass on “Son of Mr. Green Genes” from Zappa’s Hot Rats album. Zappa then persuaded a small blues label, Kent Records, which was owned by two other veterans of the fifties music industry, the Bihari brothers, to sign Otis to make an album. “Cold Shot” by the New Johnny Otis Show featured a core band of just three people — Otis himself on piano and drums, Delmar “Mighty Mouth” Evans on vocals, and Shuggie playing all the guitar and bass parts. Shuggie was only fifteen at the time, but had been playing with his father’s band since he was eleven, often wearing false moustaches and sunglasses to play in venues serving alcohol. The record brought Otis his first R&B hit since “Willie and the Hand Jive”, more than a decade earlier, “Country Girl”: [Excerpt: The Johnny Otis Show, “Country Girl”] Around the same time, that trio also recorded another album, called “For Adults Only”, under the name Snatch and the Poontangs, and with a cover drawn by Otis in a spot-on imitation of the style of Robert Crumb. For obvious reasons I won’t be playing any of that record here, but even that had a serious sociological purpose along with the obscene humour — Otis wanted to preserve bits of black folklore. Songs like “The Signifying Monkey” had been performed for years, and had even been recorded by people like Chuck Berry and Willie Dixon, but they’d always stripped out the sexual insults that make up much of the piece’s appeal. Otis would in later years laugh that he’d received accusations of obscenity for “Roll With Me Henry” and for “Willie and the Hand Jive”, but nobody had seemed bothered in the slightest by the records of Snatch and the Poontangs with their constant sexual insults. “Cold Shot” caused a career renaissance for Otis, and he put together a new lineup of the Johnny Otis Show, one that would feature as many as possible of the veteran musicians who he thought deserved exposure to a new audience. Probably the highest point of Otis’ later career was a 1970 performance at the Monterey Jazz Festival, where his band featured, along with Johnny and Shuggie, Esther Phillips, Big Joe Turner, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson, Roy Milton, Pee Wee Crayton, Ivory Joe Hunter, and Roy Brown: [Excerpt: The Johnny Otis Show featuring Roy Brown, “Good Rocking Tonight”] That performance was released as a live album, and Clint Eastwood featured footage of that show — the band performing “Willie and the Hand Jive” — in his classic film Play Misty For Me. It was probably the greatest example of Otis’ belief that all the important strands of black American music shared a commonality and could work in combination with each other. For the next few decades, Otis combined touring with as many of his old collaborators as possible — Marie Adams, for example, rejoined the band in 1972 — with having his own radio show in which he told people about black musical history and interviewed as many old musicians as he could, writing more books, including a cookbook and a collection of his art, running an organic apple juice company and food store, painting old blues artists in a style equally inspired by African art and Picasso, and being the pastor of a Pentecostal church — but one with a theology so broadminded that it was not only LGBT-affirming but had Buddhist and Jewish congregants. He ran Blues Spectrum Records in the seventies, which put out late-career recordings by people like Charles Brown, Big Joe Turner, and Louis Jordan, some of them their last ever recordings. And he lectured in the history of black music at Berkeley. Johnny Otis died in 2012, aged ninety, having achieved more than most of us could hope to achieve if we lived five times that long, and having helped many, many more people to make the most of their talents. He died three days before the discovery of whom he was most proud, Etta James, and she overshadowed him in the obituaries, as he would have wanted.

  Episode seventy of A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs looks at “Move It” by Cliff Richard, and the beginning of rock and roll TV in the UK. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Poor Little Fool” by Ricky Nelson, another artist whose career was made by TV, and one who influenced Cliff Richard hugely.   —-more—-  ERRATUM: I say Cliff Richard was sixteen when he first heard “Heartbreak Hotel”. He was fifteen. Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode.   This four-CD set contains all the singles and EPs released by Cliff Richard and the Shadows, together and separately, between 1958 and 1962. This MP3 compilation, meanwhile, contains a huge number of skiffle records and early British attempts at rock and roll. Much of the music is not very good, but I can’t imagine a better way of getting an understanding of the roots of British rock. Pete Frame’s The Restless Generation is the best book available looking at British 50s rock and roll from a historical perspective. Be warned, though — his jokey and irreverent style can, when dealing with people like Larry Parnes (who was gay and Jewish) very occasionally tip over into reinforcing homophobic and anti-semitic stereotypes for an easy laugh. Billy Bragg’s Roots, Radicals, and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World is one of the best books I’ve read on music at all, and gives far more detail about the historical background. And Cliff Richard: The Biography by Steve Turner is very positive towards Richard, but not at the expense of honesty.     Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript   We’ve looked a little bit at the start of rock and roll in Britain, which was so different from the American music that it feels absurd to talk of the two in the same breath. But today we’re going to have a look at the first really massive star of British rock and roll — someone who is still going strong today, more than sixty years after he released his first record: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard, “Move It”] When we’ve looked at British rock and roll to this point, it’s been rather lifeless, and there’s a reason for that. There were, in the mid-fifties, two different streams of music in Britain that were aiming to appeal to young people. One was skiffle, and that’s the branch of music that eventually led to all British rock and roll from the sixties onwards — we looked at that with Lonnie Donegan, but the skiffle craze was a big, big thing for about two years, and when it finally died down it splintered into three different, overlapping, groups — there were the folk revivalists, who we’ll talk about when we get to Bob Dylan; the British blues people, who we’ll look at when we get to the Rolling Stones; and the rock and rollers. Skiffle had everything that people found exciting and interesting about American rock and roll — at least, it had much of the excitement of the rockabilly music. But it wasn’t marketed as rock and roll, and it tended to aim at a slightly more bohemian audience. Meanwhile, British rock and roll proper — the stuff that was being marketed as rock and roll — was mostly being made by longtime professional musicians who had switched from playing anaemic copies of swing music to anaemic copies of Bill Haley and the Comets. Groups like Tony Crombie and the Rockets were making records like “Let’s You and I Rock”, which copied the formula of Haley’s less good records: [Excerpt: Tony Crombie and the Rockets, “Let’s You and I Rock”] The idea of rock and roll in the British music business in those early years came entirely from the film Rock Around the Clock, which had featured Haley, the Platters, and Freddie Bell and His Bellboys — who were a second-rate clone of Haley’s band. As we discussed in the episodes on Haley, his particular style of music had few imitators in American rock and roll, so while British groups were copying things like Freddie Bell’s one hit, “Giddy-Up A Ding-Dong”, British teenagers were instead listening to American records by Buddy Holly or Little Richard, the Everly Brothers or Elvis, none of whose recordings had anything to do with anything that was being made by the British commercial rock and roll industry. For British rock and roll to matter, it had to at least catch up to what the American records were doing. It needed its own Elvis — and that Elvis would ideally be someone who came from the skiffle scene, but was more oriented towards rock and roll than most of the skifflers, who were very happy playing Lead Belly songs rather than “Blue Suede Shoes”. Tommy Steele had been a good start, but he’d jumped the gun a little bit. He was essentially still a pre-Elvis performer, although he was one who followed the rockabilly pattern of a young man with a guitar. His records were still novelty songs with the word “rock” thrown in, like “Rock With the Caveman”, and when he tried to copy Elvis’ vocal mannerisms, while it brought him a number one hit, it didn’t really sound particularly credible: [Excerpt: Tommy Steele, “Singing the Blues”] In the wake of Steele came a whole host of other teen idols along the same lines, most of them managed by Larry Parnes — Adam Faith, Mary Wilde, Terry Dene, Vince Taylor, Johnny Gentle, Billy Fury, Duffy Power, Dickie Pride, and many more. Some of these went on to have interesting careers, and a few made records that we’ll be looking at in future episodes, but one of them — one of the few not managed by Parnes — managed to have a career that would outlast almost all of his American contemporaries, and outsell many of them. [Excerpt: Cliff Richard, “Move It”] One of the things that will be a recurring theme in this podcast as Britain becomes a bigger part of rock history is the end of the British Empire. It is literally impossible to understand anything about Britain for the last eighty years without understanding that at the start of the 1940s the British Empire was the largest, most powerful empire that had ever been seen in human history, while by the early 1970s Britain was a tiny island that was desperately begging to be allowed into the EEC — the precursor of the EU — because it had no economic or political power at all on its own. The psychic shock this change in status gave to multiple generations of British people cannot be overstated, and almost all British history since at least 1945 can be explained in terms of Britain trying and failing to convince itself and the world that it was still important and still mattered. And one of the people whom that change in status hit most dramatically was a young boy named Harry Webb, who was born in India in 1940, to a family who were of British descent, but who had been in India for a couple of generations. Like most white people in India at the time they benefited hugely from the Empire — although they were only moderately well off by white British standards in India, they lived in what for most people would seem absolute luxury, with servants looking after them, and the people of India being deferential to them. But then, after World War II came Indian independence and partition, and the Webb family found themselves in Britain, a country they’d never lived in, homeless and jobless. Harry, his parents, and his three sisters had to live in one room of a three-bedroom house, with the other rooms of the house occupied by another family of eight. Not only that, but while Harry had been a beneficiary of racism in India, in Britain he was a victim of it — while he was white, he had a dark complexion, an Anglo-Indian accent, and came from India, so everyone assumed he was Indian — except that the only Indians that his schoolmates knew anything about were the ones in cowboy films, so he kept getting asked where his wigwam was. Eventually the Webb family managed to get a house to themselves, and young Harry managed to get rid of his accent, ending up with an accent that reflected neither his Indian origins nor his London upbringing, but rather a generic regionless middle-class accent with a trace of the mid-Atlantic behind it. Webb’s accent would later become almost the default for people in the media, edging out the received pronunciation that had dominated in previous decades, but at the time it gave him a distinct advantage when he finally became a pop star, because he didn’t sound like he was from a particular place. When he was sixteen, he heard the record that would change his life: [Excerpt: Elvis Presley, “Heartbreak Hotel”] Young Harry became obsessed with Elvis Presley, and tried to make himself look as much like Elvis as possible. His first public performance was with a vocal group he formed at school, and he took a solo on “Heartbreak Hotel”. On leaving school, having failed almost all his exams, he decided that he wanted to become a rock and roll star. He had no idea how he was going to go about it until one day his bike broke, and he had to get the bus into work. On the same bus was an old schoolfriend, Terry Smart, who was the drummer in a skiffle group. Their singer had recently been drafted, and they needed a new one. He remembered that Harry could sing, and invited him to join the group. Harry’s musical tastes didn’t really run to skiffle, which by this time had become a very formalised genre, with the instruments almost always consisting of acoustic guitar, teachest bass, and washboard, and a repertoire that was made up primarily of songs by Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, and Big Bill Broonzy (who was the one blues musician that even the least knowledgable skiffler could name, despite his relative lack of commercial success in the US). There would also be a good chunk of traditional folk and sea shanties thrown in. A typical example of the style would be the Vipers Skiffle Group’s version of “Maggie May”: [Excerpt: The Vipers Skiffle Group, “Maggie May”] Skiffle was both too rowdy and too intellectual for young Harry Webb, whose main interest other than music was sports rather than digging up old folk songs. Other than Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis, his tastes ran to smoother American soft-rockers like Ricky Nelson and the Everly Brothers — he never had much time for the R&B styles of people like Little Richard, let alone for anything as raw as Lead Belly or Big Bill Broonzy. But Harry Webb was an unusual person. On the one hand, he was amazingly old-fashioned and prudish even for the period — he refused to smoke, drink, or blaspheme, he was very softly spoken, and as a teenager when asked if he had a girlfriend he would say “Yes, I’ve got a picture of her in my pocket” and would pull out a photo of his mother. But on the other hand, he was incredibly driven, and was willing to make use of anyone around him for precisely as long as it would take for them to help him achieve his goals. If the musicians around him wanted to play skiffle, he would play skiffle — for the moment. So Harry Webb joined Dick Teague’s Skiffle Group, and became their lead singer. He applied himself diligently to learning the skiffle material — songs like “Rock Island Line”, “This Train”, “This Little Light of Mine”, and “Don’t You Rock Me Daddy-O” — and he would rehearse every single night, and got to know the material intimately. But he insisted on singing in an imitation of Elvis’ voice, and thrusting his hips like Elvis did. But an Elvis-style vocal simply didn’t work with songs like this: [Excerpt: The Vipers Skiffle Group, “Don’t You Rock Me Daddy-O”] After a short period with the group, he started scheming with Terry Smart — they were going to continue with the skiffle group for the moment, but they secretly put together their own rock and roll group. Harry’s friend Norman Mitham started turning up to the group’s rehearsals, and watching the guitarists’ fingers intently — he was learning their material for the new group. Webb and Smart left the Dick Teague Skiffle Group, and with Mitham they formed a new rock and roll group. Inspired by the recent launch of Sputnik, they thought of calling themselves The Planets. But they decided that wasn’t quite right, and looked up the etymology of “planet”, and found it came from the Greek for “wanderer” or “drifter”, and so they became the Drifters, unaware there was an American group of the same name. On one of their very early gigs, a man named John Foster came up and introduced himself to them. Foster had no music business experience — he worked in a sewage farm — but he became the group’s manager based on two important factors. The first was that he had a telephone, which in 1958 meant he was clearly a figure of some importance — *no-one* in Britain had a telephone! And the second was that he was a nodding acquaintance of the managers of the 2is, the famous coffee bar where the Vipers used to play, and where both Tommy Steele and Terry Dene had been discovered, and he was pretty sure he could get them a gig there. He managed to get them a two-week residency at the 2is, and during the first week, a young man named Ian Samwell came up and asked them if they needed a lead guitarist. They said yes, and he was in the group. A booking agent who saw the group in their second week decided he wanted to book them for some shows in the North, but he had two problems. He didn’t want them to be booked as a group, but as a lead singer and his backing group, and he thought Harry Webb wasn’t a good enough name. So the Drifters became Cliff Richard and the Drifters, and Harry Webb soon told everyone in his life that he was only to be addressed as Cliff from now on. Foster and Samwell got the group an agent, and the agent in turn got them an audition with Norrie Paramor at Columbia Records. But there was one more thing to do. By this time Cliff *did* have a girlfriend — while according to those around him he was never that interested in dating or sex, they did go out with each other for a little while and claimed to be in love with each other. But he knew that if he was going to be a rock and roll star, he had to appear available to the teenage girls, so he dumped her. She understood — he’d had to choose between his career and love, and he’d chosen his career. Paramor was interested, and he wanted the group to record a song which had been a hit in the US for Bobby Helms: [Excerpt: Bobby Helms, “Schoolboy Crush”] That song was co-written by Aaron Schroeder, who we’ve seen before as the co-writer of some of Elvis’ tracks for Jailhouse Rock, and of Carl Perkins’ “Glad All Over”. Cliff learned the song straight away, and soon the Drifters were in Abbey Road studios ready to record their first single — but only Cliff Richard’s name was on the recording contract. While the record label would say “Cliff Richard and the Drifters”, the other group members were only going to get a flat session fee for the record, while Cliff was going to get artist royalties. Also, not all of the Drifters were present. Ian Samwell had persuaded Cliff that there was no need to keep Norman Mitham in the band. Mitham was just playing rhythm guitar like Cliff was, and Samwell thought there was no point having three guitarists and splitting the money three ways instead of two. So Mitham, who had been friends with Cliff since they were both nine, was out of the group. Cliff didn’t play guitar especially well, so for the session Samwell switched to rhythm and a session player, Ernie Shear, was brought in to play lead. The group was also augmented in the studio by a double bass player, Frank Clarke, and the Mike Sammes singers on backing vocals. The track they cut that day was not hugely inspiring: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard and the Drifters, “Schoolboy Crush”] But the B-side was more interesting. It was the first song that Ian Samwell had ever written — an angry response to an article in the Melody Maker arguing that rock and roll was dead. It was stuck on the B-side of the proposed single mostly for lack of anything better, and it was knocked off quickly. Indeed, the main engineer on the session didn’t stick around for the recording — he wanted to go to the opera, and so it was left to the junior engineer Malcolm Addey to actually record the song. And that made a big difference — Addey was young enough to have some idea himself as to what a rock and roll record should sound like, and he came up with a much louder, more resonant, sound than anything that had been heard in a British recording session — a record that didn’t sound all that dissimilar to the records that Sun was putting out: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard and the Drifters, “Move It”] That track was still intended for the B-side, until the point that Jack Good heard it. Jack Good was possibly the most important person ever to be involved in music TV — not just in Britain, but in the world. Good had been an actor, until he saw “Rock Around the Clock” in the cinema, and saw the way that the audiences reacted to the film. He became immediately convinced that the audience response was a crucial part of rock and roll, and that if done properly rock and roll performances could lead to the kind of catharsis that classical Greek drama aimed at. He took this idea to the BBC, who were at the time looking to put on a new teenage show. Up until mid 1956, the practice in British TV had been to stop transmitting for an hour, from six until seven in the evening, in order to let parents put their kids to bed — this was known as the Toddlers’ Truce. But after the commercial network ITV began broadcasting in 1955, the practice became controversial. While the BBC saved money by not putting on any programmes between six and seven — they got the same amount in TV license fees however much they broadcast — an hour without programmes for a commercial channel meant an hour without advertising fees. Eventually, ITV managed to get the rules changed, and the BBC decided that at five past six on a Saturday, they would put out a programme for young people, but young people allowed up that late — and it was to be called Six-Five Special. [Excerpt: The Bob Cort Skiffle Group, “The Six-Five Special”] Six-Five Special embodied many of Good’s ideas about how to broadcast rock and roll music — it had the audience as an integral part of the programme — there was very little distinction between the audience and the performers, who would perform among the crowd rather than separated from them. By all accounts it had some fantastic moments, including an appearance by Big Bill Broonzy, and a live broadcast from the 2Is coffee bar itself. But Good wasn’t the sole producer, and he had to compromise his vision. As well as rock and roll and skiffle, the programme also included light music of a kind parents would approve of, educational items, and bits about sport. Good kept trying to persuade the people at the BBC to let him have the show be just about rock and roll, but his co-producer wanted Hungarian acrobats and features on stamp collecting. So Good moved over to ABC, one of the ITV stations, and started a rival show, “Oh Boy!” On “Oh Boy!” the focus was entirely on the music. Good had very strong ideas on what he wanted from the show, ideas he’d got from sources as varied as a theatrical company who put on performances of Shakespeare with all-black backgrounds and no sets, and a book he’d read on the physiology of brainwashing. He wanted to make something powerful. Unlike on Six-Five Special the audience wouldn’t be mixing with the performers, but this time the performers would be picked out by a white spotlight on a black background. After two pilot episodes in June 1958, the programme started its run in September, with appearances from Marty Wilde, the John Barry Seven and more, and with instrumental backing for the solo performers provided by Lord Rockingham’s Eleven, a studio group who would go on to have a novelty hit with “Hoots Mon!” as a result of their appearances on the show: [Excerpt: Lord Rockingham’s XI, “Hoots Mon!”] And Cliff Richard was to be added to that show. It was Jack Good who, more than anyone else, came up with the image of the rock and roll star, and his influence can be seen in literally every visual depiction of rock and roll music from the early sixties on. And from the evidence of the two surviving episodes of Oh Boy! he, and the director Rita Gillespie, one of the very few female directors working in TV at the time, did a remarkable job of creating something truly exciting — something all the more remarkable when you look at what they had to work with. Most of the British rock and roll acts at the time were small, malnourished, spotty, teenage boys, who were doing a sort of cargo-cult imitation of American rock and rollers without really understanding what they were meant to be doing. But the lighting and the visuals of the show were extraordinary — and in Cliff Richard, Good had found someone who, if he was nowhere near as exciting as his American models, at least could be moulded into something that was the closest thing that could be found to a real British rock and roll star — someone who might one day be almost as good as Gene Vincent. Good insisted that the song Cliff should perform on his show should be “Move It”, and so the record label quickly flipped the single. Good worked with Cliff for a full week on his performance of the song, instructing him in every blink, every time he should clutch his arm as if in pain, the way he should look down , not straight at the audience, everything. Good chose his shocking pink outfit (not visible on black and white TV, but designed to send the girls in the audience into a frenzy) and had him restyle his hair to be less like Elvis’. And so in September 1958, a few weeks before his eighteenth birthday, Cliff Richard made his TV debut: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard, “Move It”] “Oh Boy” was the most fast-paced thing on TV — on the evidence of the surviving episodes it was one song after another, non-stop, by different performers — as many as seventeen songs in a twenty-five minute live show, with no artist doing two songs in a row. It was an immediate hit, and so was “Move It”, which went to number two in the charts. There was a media outcry over Cliff’s brazen sexuality, with the NME accusing him of “crude exhibitionism”, while the Daily Sketch would ask “Is this boy TV star too sexy?” Cliff Richard was suddenly the biggest star and sex symbol in the UK, but there were problems with the band. Cliff was no longer playing guitar while he sang, and the group also needed a bass player, so Ian Samwell switched to bass, and they went looking for a new guitarist. The original intention was to audition a young player named Tony Sheridan, but while John Foster was waiting in the 2is to meet him, he started talking with someone who had just left the Vipers, and said that he and his friend would be happy to join the group, and so Cliff’s backing group now consisted of Ian Samwell, Terry Smart, Hank Marvin and Bruce Welch. The new group recorded another Ian Samwell song, “High Class Baby”: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard and the Drifters, “High Class Baby”] What Samwell didn’t know when they recorded that was that Cliff was already planning to replace him, with Jet Harris, who had played with Marvin in the Vipers. Now he was playing with better musicians, Samwell’s shortcomings were showing up. Cliff didn’t tell Samwell himself — he got John Foster to fire him. Samwell would go on to have some success as a songwriter and record producer, though, most famously producing “Horse With No Name” for America. Shortly after that, Foster was gone as well, first demoted from manager to roadie, then given two weeks’ notice in a letter from Cliff’s dad. And then finally, Cliff replaced Terry Smart, his old school friend, the person who had invited him into his group, with Tony Meehan, another ex-Viper. By Cliff’s nineteenth birthday, the only thing left of the original Drifters was the name. And soon that would change too, as Cliff Richard and the Drifters became Cliff Richard and the Shadows.

Six-Pack of Eddie Money, Volume One On this Six-Pack episode, Jon Lamoreaux of The Hustle Podcast, Joe Royland of Sit & Spin with Joe, and Eric Miller of Pods & Sods celebrate the life and work of Eddie Money. Eddie Money broke onto the scene in the late 70s, managed by the great Bill Graham. He scored a series of unforgettable hits that have become part of the American rock and roll soundtrack shared by us all - Shakin', Baby Hold On, Two Tickets to Paradise, Think I'm In Love, Take Me Home Tonight, Walk on Water, I Wanna Go Back, among others.  He had a reality show, toured the world, did tons of work for charities large and small, overcame personal demons... and all with a charm and smile that was unique, infectious, and undeniable. Eddie was taken by cancer earlier this week and so we wanted to pay tribute. So pack you bags, grab your tickets to paradise, and join us as we honor the Money-Man himself - Eddie Money.

Welcome to episode forty-eight of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs. This one looks at “Rock With the Caveman” by Tommy Steele, and the birth of the British rock and roll industry. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a bonus episode available. This one’s on “The Death of Rock and Roll” by the Maddox Brothers and Rose, in which we look at a country group some say invented rock & roll, and how they reacted badly to it  —-more—- Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode. This double-CD set contains all Steele’s rock and roll material, plus a selection of songs from the musicals he appeared in later. This MP3 compilation, meanwhile, contains a huge number of skiffle records and early British attempts at rock and roll, including Steele’s. Much of the music is not very good, but I can’t imagine a better way of getting an understanding of the roots of British rock. Pete Frame’s The Restless Generation is the best book available looking at British 50s rock and roll from a historical perspective. Billy Bragg’s Roots, Radicals, and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World is one of the best books I’ve read on music at all, and covers Steele from the skiffle perspective. Fings Ain’t What They Used T’Be: The Life of Lionel Bart by David & Caroline Stafford gave me a lot of information on Steel’s songwriting partner. Steele’s autobiography, Bermondsey Boy, covers his childhood and early stardom. I am not 100% convinced of its accuracy, but it’s an entertaining book, and if nothing else probably gives a good idea of the mental atmosphere in the poor parts of South London in the war and immediate post-war years. And George Melly’s Revolt Into Style was one of the first books to take British pop culture seriously, and puts Steele into a wider context of British pop, both music and art. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Let’s talk a little bit about the Piltdown Man. Piltdown Man was an early example of a hominid — a missing link between the apes and humans. Its skull was discovered in 1912 in Piltdown, East Sussex, by the eminent archaeologist Charles Dawson, and for years was considered one of the most important pieces of evidence in the story of human evolution. And then, in 1953, it was discovered that the whole thing was a hoax, and not even a particularly good one. Someone had just taken the jaw of an orang-utan and the top part of a human skull, and filed down the orang-utan teeth, and then stained the bones to make them look old. It was almost certainly the work of Dawson himself, who seems to have spent his entire life making fraudulent discoveries. Dawson had died decades earlier, and the full extent of his fraud wasn’t even confirmed until 2003. Sometimes researching the history of rock and roll can be a lot like that. You can find a story repeated in numerous apparently reliable books, and then find out that it’s all based on the inaccurate testimony of a single individual. The story never happened. It was just something someone made up. [Excerpt: “Rock With the Caveman”, Tommy Steele and the Steelmen] We talked a little while ago about the skiffle movement, and the first British guitar-based pop music. Today, we’re going to look at the dawn of British rock and roll. Now, there’s an important thing to note about the first wave of British rock and roll, and that is that it was, essentially, a music that had no roots in the culture. It was an imitation of American music, without any of the ties to social issues that made the American music so interesting. Britain in the 1950s was a very different place to the one it is today, or to America. It was ethnically extremely homogeneous, as the waves of immigration that have so improved the country had only just started. And while few people travelled much outside their own immediate areas, it was culturally more homogeneous as well, as Britain, unlike America, had a national media rather than a local one. In Britain, someone could become known throughout the country before they’d played their second gig, if they got the right media exposure. And so British rock and roll started out at the point that American rock and roll was only just starting to get to — a clean-cut version of the music, with little black influence or sexuality left in it, designed from the outset to be a part of mainstream showbusiness aimed at teenagers, not music for an underclass or a racial or sexual minority. Britain’s first rock and roll star put out his first record in November 1956, and by November 1957 he was appearing on the Royal Variety Show, with Mario Lanza, Bob Monkhouse, and Vera Lynn. That is, fundamentally, what early British rock and roll was. Keep that in mind for the rest of the story, as we look at how a young sailor from a dirt-poor family became Britain’s first teen idol. To tell that story, we first have to discuss the career of the Vipers Skiffle Group. That was the group’s full name, and they were just about the most important British group of the mid-fifties, even though they were never as commercially successful as some of the acts we’ve looked at. The name of the Vipers Skiffle Group was actually the first drug reference in British pop music. They took the name from the autobiography of the American jazz clarinettist Mezz Mezzrow — a man who was better known in the jazz community as a dope dealer than as a musician; so much so that “Mezz” itself became slang for marijuana, while “viper” became the name for dope smokers, as you can hear in this recording by Stuff Smith, in which he sings that he “dreamed about a reefer five foot long/Mighty Mezz but not too strong”. [Excerpt: Stuff Smith, “You’se a Viper”] So when Wally Whyton, Johnny Booker, and Jean Van Den Bosch formed a guitar trio, they chose that name, even though as it turned out none of them actually smoked dope. They just thought it sounded cool. They started performing at a cafe called the 2is (two as in the numeral, I as in the letter), and started to build up something of a reputation — to the point that Lonnie Donegan started nicking their material. Whyton had taken an old sea shanty, “Sail Away Ladies”, popularised by the country banjo player Uncle Dave Macon, and rewritten it substantially, turning it into “Don’t You Rock Me Daddy-O”. Donegan copyrighted Whyton’s song as soon as he heard it, and rushed out his version of it, but the Vipers put out their own version too, and the two chased each other up the charts. Donegan’s charted higher, but the Vipers ended up at a respectable number ten: [Excerpt: The Vipers, “Don’t You Rock Me, Daddy-O”] That recording was on Parlophone records, and was produced by a young producer who normally did comedy and novelty records, named George Martin. We’ll be hearing more about him later on. But at the time we’re talking about, the Vipers had not yet gained a recording contract, and they were still playing the 2is. Occasionally, they would be joined on stage by a young acquaintance named Thomas Hicks. Hicks was a merchant seaman, and was away at sea most of the time, and so was never a full part of the group, but even though he didn’t care much for skiffle — he was a country and western fan first and foremost — he played guitar, and in Britain in 1955 and 56, if you played guitar, you played skiffle. Hicks had come from an absolutely dirt-poor background. Three of his siblings had died at cruelly young ages, and young Thomas himself had had several brushes with ill health, which meant that while he was a voracious reader he had lacked formal education. He had wanted to be a performer from a very early age, and had developed a routine that he used to do around the pubs in his early teens, in which he would mime to a record by Danny Kaye, “Knock on Wood”: [Excerpt: Danny Kaye, “Knock on Wood”] But at age fifteen he had joined the Merchant Navy. This isn’t the same thing as the Royal Navy, but rather is the group of commercial shipping companies that provide non-military shipping, and Hicks worked as wait staff on a cruise ship making regular trips to America. On an early trip, he fell in love with the music of Hank Williams, who would remain a favourite of his for the rest of his life, and he particularly loved the song “Kaw-Liga”: [Excerpt: Hank Williams, “Kaw-Liga”] Hicks replaced his old party piece of miming to Danny Kaye with a new one of singing “Kaw-Liga”, with accompaniment from anyone he could persuade to play guitar for him. Eventually one of his crewmates taught him how to play the song himself, and he started performing with pick-up groups, singing Hank Williams songs, whenever he was on shore leave in the UK. And when he couldn’t get a paid gig he’d head to the 2is and sing with the Vipers. But then came the event that changed his life. Young Tommy Hicks, with his love of country music, was delighted when on shore leave in 1955 to see an advert for a touring show based on the Grand Ole Opry, in Norfolk Virginia, where he happened to be. Of course he went along, and there he saw something that made a huge impression. One of the acts in the middle of the bill was a young man who wore horn-rimmed glasses. Tommy still remembers the details to this day. The young man came out and did a three-song set. The first song was a standard country song, but the second one was something else; something that hit like a bolt of lightning: [Excerpt: Buddy Holly, “Peggy Sue”] That song was young Thomas Hicks’ introduction to the new music called rock and roll, and nothing would ever be the same for him ever again after seeing Buddy Holly sing “Peggy Sue”. By February 1956 he had finished working on the cruise ships, and was performing rock and roll in London, the very first British rock and roller. Except… There’s a reason why we’re covering Tommy Steele *before* Buddy Holly, the man who he claims as his inspiration. Buddy Holly *did* perform with a Grand Ole Opry tour. But it didn’t tour until May 1956, three months after Thomas Hicks quit his job on the cruise ships, and about a year after the time Tommy claims to have seen him. That tour only hit Oklahoma, which is landlocked, and didn’t visit Norfolk Virginia. According to various timelines put together by people like the Buddy Holly Centre in Lubbock Texas, Holly didn’t perform outside Lubbock until that tour, and that’s the only time he did perform outside West Texas until 1957. Also, Buddy Holly didn’t meet Peggy Sue Gerron, the woman who gave the song its name, until 1956, and the song doesn’t seem to have been written until 1957. So whatever it was that introduced young Tommy Hicks to the wonders of rock and roll, it wasn’t seeing Buddy Holly sing “Peggy Sue” in Norfolk Virginia in 1955. But that’s the story that’s in his autobiography, and that’s the story that’s in every other source I’ve seen on the subject, because they’re all just repeating what he said, on the assumption that he’d remember something like that, something which was so important in his life and future career. Remember what I said at the beginning, about rock and roll history being like dealing with Piltdown Man? Yeah. There are a lot of inaccuracies in the life story of Thomas Hicks, who became famous under the name Tommy Steele. Anything I tell you about him is based on information he put out, and that information is not always the truth, so be warned. For example, when he started his career, he claimed he’d worked his way up on the cruise ships to being a gymnastics instructor — something that the shipping federation denied to the press. You find a lot of that kind of thing when you dig into Steele’s stories. In fact, by the time Hicks started performing, there had already been at least one British rock and roll record made. He wasn’t bringing something new that he’d discovered in America at all. “Rock Around the Clock”, the Bill Haley film, had played in UK cinemas at around the time of Hicks’ supposed epiphany, and it had inspired a modern jazz drummer, Tony Crombie, to form Tony Crombie and the Rockets and record a Bill Haley soundalike called “Teach You To Rock”: [Excerpt: Tony Crombie and the Rockets, “Teach You To Rock”] However, Crombie was not teen idol material — a serious jazz drummer in his thirties, he soon went back to playing bebop, and has largely been written out of British rock history since, in favour of Tommy Steele as the first British rock and roller. Thomas Hicks the merchant seaman became Tommy Steele the pop idol as a result of a chance meeting. Hicks went to a party with a friend, and the host was a man called Lionel Bart, who was celebrating because he’d just sold his first song, to the bandleader Bill Cotton. No recording of that song seems to exist, but the lyrics to the song — a lament about the way that old-style cafes were being replaced by upscale coffee bars — are quoted in a biography of Bart: “Oh for a cup of tea, instead of a cuppuchini/What would it mean to me, just one little cup so teeny!/You ask for some char and they reckon you’re barmy/Ask for a banger, they’ll give you salami/Oh for the liquid they served in the Army/Just a cup of tea!” Heartrending stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree. But Bart was proud of the twenty-five guineas the song had earned him, and so he was having a party. Bart was at the centre of a Bohemian crowd in Soho, and the party was held at a squat where Bart, a card-carrying member of the Communist Party, spent most of his time. At that squat at various times around this period lived, among others, the playwright John Antrobus, the actor Shirley Eaton, who would later become famous as the woman painted gold in the beginning of Goldfinger, and the great folk guitarist Davey Graham, who would later become famous for his instrumental, “Angi”: [Excerpt: Davey Graham, “Angi”] We’ll hear more about Graham in future episodes. Another inhabitant of the squat was Mike Pratt, a guitarist and pianist who would later turn to acting and become famous as Jeff Randall in the fantasy detective series Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased). Hicks, Bart, and Pratt started collaborating on songs together — Hicks would bring in a basic idea, and then Bart would write the lyrics and Pratt the music. They also performed as The Cavemen, though Bart soon tired of playing washboard and stuck to writing. The Cavemen became a floating group of musicians, centred around Hicks and Pratt, and with various Vipers and other skifflers pulled in as and when they were available. The various skiffle musicians looked down on Hicks, because of his tendency to want to play “Heartbreak Hotel” or “Blue Suede Shoes” rather than “Bring a Little Water Sylvie” or “Rock Island Line”, but a gig was a gig, and they had to admit that Hicks seemed to go down well with the young women in the audience. Two minor music industry people, Bill Varley and Roy Tuvey, agreed to manage Hicks, but they decided that they needed someone involved who would be able to publicise Hicks, so they invited John Kennedy, a PR man from New Zealand, to come to the 2is to see him. Hicks wasn’t actually playing the 2is the night in question – it was the Vipers, who were just on the verge of getting signed and recording their first single: [Excerpt: The Vipers Skiffle Group, “Ain’t You Glad?”] While Hicks wasn’t scheduled to play, at the request of Varley and Tuvey he jumped on stage when the Vipers took a break, and sang a song that he, Bart, and Pratt had written, called “Rock With the Caveman”. Kennedy was impressed. He was impressed enough, in fact, that he brought in a friend, Larry Parnes, who would go on to become the most important manager in British rock and roll in the fifties and early sixties. Kennedy, Parnes, and Hicks cut Varley and Tuvey out altogether — to the extent that neither of them are even mentioned in the version of this story in Tommy Steele’s autobiography. Hicks was renamed Tommy Steele, in a nod to his paternal grandfather Thomas Stil-Hicks (the Stil in that name is spelled either Stil or Stijl, depending on which source you believe) and Parnes would go on to name a whole host of further rock stars in a similar manner — Duffy Power, Johnny Gentle, Billy Fury, Marty Wilde. They had everything except a record contract, but that was why Kennedy was there. Kennedy rented a big house, and hired a load of showgirls, models, and sex workers to turn up for a party and bring their boyfriends. They were to dress nicely, talk in fake posh accents, and if anyone asked who they were they were to give fake double-barrelled names. He then called the press and said it was “the first high society rock and roll show” and that the girls were all debutantes. The story made the newspapers, and got Steele national attention. Steele was signed by Decca records, where Hugh Mendl, the producer of “Rock Island Line”, was so eager to sign him that he didn’t check if any studios were free for his audition, and so Britain’s first homegrown rock idol auditioned for his record contract in the gents’ toilets. A bunch of slumming jazz musicians, including Dave Lee, the pianist with the Dankworth band, and the legendary saxophone player Ronnie Scott, were brought in to record “Rock With the Caveman”: [Excerpt: Tommy Steele, “Rock With the Caveman”] The single went to number thirteen. Tommy Steele was now a bona fide rock and roll star, at least in the UK. The next record, “Elevator Rock”, didn’t do so well, however: [Excerpt: Tommy Steele, “Elevator Rock”] That failed to chart, so Steele’s producers went for the well-worn trick in British record making of simply copying a US hit. Guy Mitchell had just released “Singing the Blues”: [Excerpt: Guy Mitchell, “Singing the Blues”] That was actually a cover version of a recording by Marty Robbins from earlier in the year, but Mitchell’s version was the one that became the big hit. And Steele was brought into the studio to record a soundalike version, and hopefully get it out before Mitchell’s version hit the charts. Steele’s version has an identical arrangement and sound to Mitchell’s, except that Steele sings it in an incredibly mannered Elvis impression: [Excerpt: Tommy Steele, “Singing the Blues”] Now, to twenty-first century ears, Steele’s version is clearly inferior. But here was the birth of something particularly English — and indeed something particularly London — in rock and roll music. The overly mannered, music-hall inspired, Cockneyfied impression of an American singing style. On Steele’s subsequent tour, a nine-year old kid called David Jones, who would later change his name to Bowie, went to see him and came away inspired to become a rock and roll star. And we can hear in this performance the roots of Bowie’s own London take on Elvis, as we can also hear a style that would be taken up by Anthony Newley, Ray Davies, and many more masters of Cockney archness. I don’t think “Singing the Blues” is a particularly good record compared to Mitchell’s, but it is a prototype for something that would become good, and it deserves recognition for that. Mitchell’s version got out first, and went to the top of the charts, with Steele’s following close behind, but then for one week Mitchell’s record label had a minor distribution problem, and Steele took over the top spot, before Mitchell’s record returned to number one the next week. Tommy Steele had become the first British rock and roll singer to get to number one in the UK charts. It would be the only time he would do so, but it was enough. He was a bona fide teen idol. He was so big, in fact, that even his brother, Colin Hicks, became a minor rock and roll star himself off the back of his brother’s success: [Excerpt: Colin Hicks and the Cabin Boys, “Hollering and Screaming”] The drummer on that record, Jimmy Nicol, later had his fifteen minutes of fame when Ringo Starr got tonsilitis just before a tour of Australia, and for a few shows Nicol got to be a substitute Beatle. Very soon, Tommy Steele moved on into light entertainment. First he moved into films — starting with “The Tommy Steele Story”, a film based on his life, for which he, Bart, and Pratt wrote all twelve of the songs in a week to meet the deadline, and then he went into stage musicals. Within a year, he had given up on rock and roll altogether. But rock and roll hadn’t *quite* given up on him. While Steele was appearing in stage musicals, one was also written about him — a hurtful parody of his life, which he claimed later he’d wanted to sue over. In Expresso Bongo, a satire of the British music industry, Steele was parodied as “Bongo Herbert”, who rises to fame with no talent whatsoever. That stage musical was then rewritten for a film version, with the satire taken out of it, so it was a straight rags-to-riches story. It was made into a vehicle for another singer who had been a regular at the 2is, and whose backing band was made up of former members of the Vipers Skiffle Group: [Excerpt: Cliff Richard, “Love” (from Expresso Bongo)] We’ll talk about both Cliff Richard and the Shadows in future episodes though… Tommy Steele would go on to become something of a national treasure, working on stage with Gene Kelly and on screen with Fred Astaire, writing several books, having a minor artistic career as a sculptor, and touring constantly in pantomimes and musicals. At age eighty-two he still tours every year, performing as Scrooge in a stage musical version of A Christmas Carol. His 1950s hits remain popular enough in the UK that a compilation of them went to number twenty-two in the charts in 2009. He may not leave a large body of rock and roll work, but without him, there would be no British rock and roll industry as we know it, and the rest of this history would be very different.

Today's Bombshell (Bombshell Radio) Bombshell Radio Thursday's 2pm-3pm EST 11pm-12pm PDT 7pm-8pm BST bombshellradio.com stereoembersmagazine.com Stereo Embers Magazine #StereoEmbers, #podcast, #RadioShow, #AlexGreen, #Alternative , #NewMusic ,#Nowplaying, #BombshellRadio, #DONFELDER, #THEEAGLES“Don Felder Says You’ll Never Master The Game”Although he’s one of the most legendary guitar players of all time, Don Felder says music is like golf—it’s a game you can’t master. That said, Felder is pretty masterful. The Florida born musician’s third solo album American Rock and Roll is further evidence that he’s one of the most innovative players on the planet and at the height of his creative powers. In this chat Felder talks to Alex about musical discipline, his love of B.B. King and what makes music eternal. He also talks about the power of collaboration, his teaming up with folks like Slash and Peter Frampton for his new album, and why it’s okay if an idea doesn’t always work out the way you planned…

Episode forty-one of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Be-Bop-A-Lula” by Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, and how Vincent defined for many what a rock and roll star was. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Smokestack Lightning” by Howlin’ Wolf. —-more—- Resources There are far, far more books on Gene Vincent than one would expect from his short chart history — a testament to how much he influenced a generation. The two that I used most are Race With the Devil by Susan VanHecke, and Gene Vincent and Eddie Cochran: Rock and Roll Revolutionaries by John Collis. Of the two, I’d recommend the latter more. There are many compilations of Gene Vincent’s early rock and roll work. This one contains everything he recorded up until 1962. And as always there’s a Mixcloud with the full versions of all the songs featured in today’s episode. Patreon   This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript [Excerpt: Ian Dury and the Blockheads, “Sweet Gene Vincent”] So sang Ian Dury, one of the greats of the rock and roll generation that came up in the seventies, a generation that grew up on listening to Gene Vincent. In the USA, Vincent was more or less regarded as a one-hit wonder, though that one hit was one of the most memorable of the 1950s, but in the UK, he was to become one of the biggest influences on everyone who sang or played a guitar.   Gene Vincent was born Vincent Eugene Craddock, and he would have been perfectly happy in his original career as a sailor, until 1955. Then, something happened that changed his life forever. He re-enlisted in the Navy, and got a nine-hundred dollar bonus – a huge sum of money for a sailor in those days – which he used to buy himself a new Triumph racing motorbike.   The bike didn’t last long, and nor did Gene’s Navy career. There are two stories about the accident. The one which he told most often, and which was the official story, was that he was not at fault – a woman driving a Chrysler ran a red light and ran into him, and the only reason he didn’t get compensation was that he signed some papers while he was sedated in hospital.   The other story, which he told at least one friend, was that he’d been out drinking and was late getting back to the Naval base. There was a security barrier at the base, and he tried to ride under the barrier. He’d failed, and the bike had come down hard on his left leg, crushing it.   Whatever the truth, his left leg was smashed up, and looked for a long time like it was going to be amputated, but he refused to allow this. He had it put into a cast for more than a year, after which it was put into a metal brace instead. His leg never really properly healed, and it would leave him in pain for the rest of his life. His leg developed chronic osteomyelitis, he had a permanent open sore on his shin, his leg muscles withered, and his bones would break regularly.   Then in September 1955, finally discharged from the naval hospital, Gene Vincent went to see a country music show. The headliner was Hank Snow, and the Louvin Brothers were also on the bill, but the act that changed Gene’s life was lower down the bill – a young singer named Elvis Presley.   [Excerpt: Elvis Presley, “Mystery Train”]   The story seems to be the same for almost every one of the early rockabilly artists, but this is the first time we’ve seen it happen with someone who didn’t go on to sign with Sun – a young man in the Southern US has been playing his guitar for a while, making music that’s a little bit country, a little bit blues, and then one day he goes to see a show featuring Elvis Presley, and he immediately decides that he wants to do that, that Elvis is doing something that’s like what the young man has already started doing, but he’s proved that you can do it on stage, for people.   It’s as if at every single show Elvis played in 1954 and 1955 there was a future rockabilly star in the audience — and by playing those shows, Elvis permanently defined what we mean when we say “rock and roll star”. The first thing Gene did was to get himself noticed by the radio station that had promoted the show, and in particular by Sheriff Tex Davis, who was actually a DJ from Connecticut whose birth name was William Doucette, but had changed his name to sound more country. Davis was a DJ and show promoter, and he was the one who had promoted the gig that Elvis had appeared at. Gene Craddock came into his office a few days after that show, and told him that he was a singer. Davis listened to him sing a couple of songs, and thought that he would do a decent job as a regular on his Country Showtime radio show.   Soon afterwards, Carl Perkins came to town to do a show with Craddock as the opening act. It would, in fact, be his last show for a while – it was right after this show, as he travelled to get to New York for the TV appearance he was booked on, that he got into the car crash that derailed his career. But Tex Davis asked Carl to watch the opening act and tell him what he thought. Carl watched, and he said that the boy had potential, especially one particular song, “Be-Bop-A-Lula”, which sounded to Carl quite like some of his own stuff.   That was good enough for Tex Davis, who signed Craddock up to a management contract, and who almost immediately recorded some of his performances to send to Ken Nelson at Capitol Records.   Capitol at the time was the home of crooners like Frank Sinatra and Nat “King” Cole, and other than its small country music division had little connection to the new forms of music that were starting to dominate the culture. Capitol had been founded in the early 1940s by the songwriter Johnny Mercer, who wrote many standards for Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Tony Bennett and others, and also recorded his own material, like this:   [Excerpt: Johnny Mercer, “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive”]   Mercer was a great songwriter, but you can imagine that a record label headed up by Mercer might not have been one that was most attuned to rock and roll. However, in 1955 Capitol had been bought up by the big conglomerate EMI, and things were changing at the label.   Ken Nelson was the head of country music for Capitol Records, and is someone who has a very mixed reputation among lovers of both country music and rockabilly, as someone who had impeccable taste in artists – he also signed Buck Owens and the Louvin Brothers among many other classic country artists – but also as someone who would impose a style on those artists that didn’t necessarily suit them.   Nelson didn’t really understand rockabilly at all, but he knew that Capitol needed its own equivalent of Elvis Presley. So he put a call out for people to recommend him country singers who could sound a bit like Elvis. On hearing the tape that Tex Davis sent him of Gene Craddock, he decided to call in this kid for a session in Nashville.   By this point, Craddock had formed his own backing band, who became known as the Blue Caps. This consisted of guitarist Cliff Gallup, the oldest of the group and a plumber by trade, drummer Dickie Harrell, a teenager who was enthusiastic but a good decade younger than Gallup, rhythm guitarist Willie Williams, and bass player Jack Neal. They took the name “Blue Caps” from the hats they all wore on stage, which were allegedly inspired by the golf caps that President Eisenhower used to wear while playing golf. Not the most rebellious of inspirations for the group that would, more than any other rock and roll group of the fifties, inspire juvenile delinquency and youthful rebelliousness.   The session was at a studio run by Owen Bradley, who had just recently recorded some early tracks by a singer from Texas named Buddy Holly. The song chosen for the first single was a track called “Woman Love”, which everyone was convinced could be a hit. They were convinced, that is, until they heard Gene singing it in the studio, at which point they wondered if perhaps some of what he was singing was not quite as wholesome as they had initially been led to believe:   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, “Woman Love”]   Ken Nelson asked to look at the lyric sheet, and satisfied that Gene *could* have been singing “hugging” rather than what Nelson had worried he had been singing, agreed that the song should go out on the A-side of Gene’s first single, which was to be released under the name Gene Vincent – a name Nelson created from Gene’s forenames.   It turned out that the lyric sheet didn’t completely convince everyone. Most radio stations refused to play “Woman Love” at all, saying that even if the lyrics weren’t obscene – and plenty of people were convinced that they were – the record itself still was.   Or, at least, the A-side was.   The B-side, a song called “Be-Bop-A-Lula”, was a different matter:   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps: “Be-Bop-A-Lula”]   There are three stories about how the song came to have the title “Be-Bop-A-Lula”. Donald Graves, a fellow patient in the naval hospital who was widely considered to have co-written the song with Gene, always claimed the song was inspired by the 1920s vaudeville song “Don’t Bring Lulu”.   [Excerpt: “Don’t Bring Lulu”, Billy Murray]   As Tex Davis told the story, it was inspired by a Little Lulu comic book Davis showed Vincent, to which Vincent said, “Hey, it’s be-bop a lulu!”   Davis is credited as co-writer of the song along with Gene, but it’s fairly widely acknowledged that he had no part in the song’s writing. Almost every source now says that Davis paid Donald Graves twenty-five dollars for his half of the songwriting rights.   Far more likely is that it was inspired by the Helen Humes song “Be Baba Leba”:   [Excerpt: Helen Humes, “Be Baba Leba”]   That song had been rerecorded by Lionel Hampton as “Hey Baba Reba!”, which had been a massive R&B hit, and the song is also generally considered one of the inspirations behind the term “be bop” being applied to the style of music.   And that’s something we should probably at least talk about briefly here, because it shows how much culture changes, and how fast we lose context for things that seemed obvious at the time. The term “bebop”, as it was originally used, was used in the same way we use it now — for a type of jazz music that originated in New York in the mid-1940s, which prized harmonic complexity, instrumental virtuosity, and individual self-expression. The music made by people like Charlie Parker, Oscar Peterson, Dexter Gordon, Dizzy Gillespie, and so on, and which pretty much defined what was thought of as jazz in the postwar era.   But while that was what the term originally meant, and is what the term means now, it wasn’t what the term meant in 1956, at least to most of the people who used the term. Colloquially, bebop meant “that noisy music I don’t understand that the young people like, and most of the people making it are black”. So it covered bebop itself, but it was also used for rhythm and blues, rock and roll, even rockabilly — you would often find interviewers talking with Elvis in his early years referring to his music as “Hillbilly Bop” or “a mixture of country music and bebop”.   So even though “Be-Bop-A-Lula” had about as much to do with bebop as it did with Stravinsky, the name still fit.   At that initial session, Ken Nelson brought in a few of the top session players in Nashville, but when he heard the Blue Caps play, he was satisfied that they were good enough to play on the records, and sent the session musicians home. In truth, the Blue Caps were probably best described as a mixed-ability group. Some of them were rudimentary musicians at best — though as we’ve seen, rockabilly, more than most genres, was comfortable with enthusiastic amateurs anyway.   But Cliff Gallup, the lead guitarist, was quite probably the most technically accomplished guitarist in the world of rockabilly. Gallup’s guitar style, which involved fast-picked triplets and the use of multiple steel fingerpicks, was an inspiration for almost every rock and roll guitarist of the 1960s, and any group which had him in would sound at least decent.   During the recording of “Be-Bop-A-Lula”, the young drummer Dickie Harrell decided to let out a giant scream right in the middle of the song — he later said that this was so that his mother would know he was on the record. Cliff Gallup was not impressed, and wanted to do a second take, but the first take was what was used.   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent, “Be Bop A Lula”, scream section]   “Be-Bop-A-Lula” is by any standards a quite astonishing record. The lyric is, of course, absolute nonsense — it’s a gibberish song with no real lyrical content at all — but that doesn’t matter at all. What matters is the *sound*. What we have here, fundamentally, is the sound of “Heartbreak Hotel” applied to a much, much, less depressive lyric. It still has that strange morbidity that the Elvis track had, but combined with carefree gibberish lyrics in the style of Little Richard. It’s the precise midpoint between “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Tutti Frutti”, and is probably the record which, more than any other, epitomises 1956.   A lot of people commented on the similarity between Vincent’s record and the music of Elvis Presley. There are various stories that went round at the time, including that Scotty and Bill got annoyed at Elvis for recording it without them, that Elvis’ mother had told him she liked that new single of his, “Be-Bop-A-Lula”, and even that Elvis himself, on hearing it, had been confused and wondered if he’d forgotten recording it. In truth, none of these stories seem likely. The record is, sonically and stylistically, like an Elvis one, but Vincent’s voice has none of the same qualities as Elvis’. While Elvis is fully in control at all times, playful and exuberant, Gene Vincent is tense and twitchy. Vincent’s voice is thinner than Elvis’, and his performance is more mannered than Elvis’ singing at that time was.   But none of this stopped Vincent from worrying the one time he did meet Elvis, who came over and asked him if he was the one who’d recorded “Be-Bop-A-Lula”. Vincent was apologetic, and explained that he’d not been intending to copy Elvis, the record had just come out like that. But Elvis reassured him that he understood, and that that was just how Gene sang.   What fewer people commented on was the song’s similarity to “Money Honey”:   [Excerpt: The Drifters, “Money Honey”]   The two songs have near-identical melodies. The only real difference is that in “Be-Bop-A-Lula” Vincent bookends the song with a slight variation, turning the opening and closing choruses into twelve-bar blueses, rather than the eight-bar blues used in the rest of the song and in “Money Honey”. Luckily for Vincent, at this time the culture in R&B was relaxed enough about borrowings that Jesse Stone seems not to have even considered suing.   The follow-up to “Be-Bop-A-Lula” did much less well. “Race With the Devil” — not the same song as the one later made famous by Judas Priest — was one of the all-time great rockabilly records, but the lyrics, about a hot-rod race with the actual Devil, were, like “Woman Love”, considered unbroadcastable, and this time there was no massive hit record hidden away on the B-side to salvage things:   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, “Race With The Devil”]   The single after that, “Blue Jean Bop”, did a little better, reaching the lower reaches of the top fifty, rather than the lower reaches of the top hundred as “Race With the Devil” had, and making the top twenty in the UK:   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent, “Blue Jean Bop”]   But there were three major problems that were preventing Vincent and the Blue Caps from having the success that it seemed they deserved.   The first was Ken Nelson. He was in charge of the material that the group were recording, and he would suggest songs like “Up a Lazy River”, “Ain’t She Sweet”, and “Those Wedding Bells are Breaking up That Old Gang of Mine”. Vincent enjoyed those old standards as much as anyone, but they weren’t actually suited to the rockabilly treatment – especially not to the kind of rough and ready performances that the original lineup of the Blue Caps were suited to.   And that brings us to the second problem. There was a huge age gap, as well as disparity in ability, in the band, and Cliff Gallup, in particular, felt that he was too old to be touring in a rock and roll band, and quit the group. Gallup was actually offered a regular gig as a session guitarist by Ken Nelson, which would have meant that he didn’t have to travel, but he turned it down and got a job as a high school janitor and maintenance man, just playing the occasional extra gig for pin money. When he was contacted by fans, he would get embarrassed, and he didn’t like to talk about his brief time as a rock and roll star. He never signed a single autograph, and when he died in 1989 his widow made sure the obituaries never mentioned his time with Gene Vincent.   But Gallup was just the first to leave. In the first two and a half years of the Blue Caps’ existence, twenty different people were members of the band. Vincent could never keep a stable lineup of the band together for more than a few weeks or months at a time.   And the third major problem… that was Vincent himself. Even before his accident, he had been an impetuous, hot-headed man, who didn’t think very carefully about the possible consequences of his actions. Now he was in chronic pain from the accident, he was a rock and roll star, and he was drinking heavily to deal with the pain. This is not a combination that makes people less inclined to rash behaviour.   So, for example, he’d started breaking contracts. Vincent and the Blue Caps were booked to play a residency in Las Vegas, where they were making three thousand dollars a week – for 1956 a staggering sum of money. But Tex Davis told Vincent that the owner of the casino wanted him to tone down some aspects of his act, and he didn’t like that at all. It wasn’t even enough to convince him when it was pointed out that the man doing the asking was big in the Mafia. Instead, Gene went on stage, sang one song, found Tex Davis in the crowd, caught his eye, flipped him off, and walked off stage, leaving the band to do the rest of the show without him. Unsurprisingly, the residency didn’t last very long. Equally unsurprisingly, Tex Davis decided he was no longer going to manage Gene Vincent. Legal problems around the fallout from losing his management caused Vincent to be unable to work for several months.   While both “Race With the Devil” and “Blue Jean Bop” were big hits in the UK, the closest they came to having another hit in the USA was a song called “Lotta Lovin'”:   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent, “Lotta Lovin'”]   That was written by a songwriter named Bernice Bedwell, who is otherwise unknown — she wrote a handful of other rockabilly songs, including another song that Vincent would record, but nothing else that was particularly successful, and there seems to be no biographical information about her anywhere. She sold the publishing rights to the song to a Texas oilman, Tom Fleeger, who does seem to have had a fairly colourful life — he wrote a memoir called “Fidel and the Fleeg”, which I sadly haven’t read, but in which he claims that Fidel Castro tried to frame him for murder in the 1940s after a dispute over a beautiful woman.   Fleeger was soon to start his own record label, Jan Records, but for now he thought that the song would be suitable for Gene Vincent, and got in touch with him. “Lotta Lovin'” was quickly recorded at Gene’s first session at Capitol’s new studio at the Capitol Tower in Hollywood.   The B-side was a ballad called “Wear My Ring” by Warren Cassoto, the future Bobby Darin, and Don Kirshner.   [Excerpt: Gene Vincent, “Wear My Ring”]   “Lotta Lovin'” went to number thirteen on the pop charts, and number seven on the R&B charts, and it looked like it would revitalise Gene’s career. But it was not to be. Vincent’s increasingly erratic behaviour — including pulling a gun on band members on multiple occasions — and Capitol and Ken Nelson’s lack of understanding of rock and roll music, meant that he quickly became a forgotten figure in the US.   But he had a huge impact on the UK, thanks to a TV producer named Jack Good.   Jack Good was the person who, more than anyone else, had brought rock and roll to British TV. He’d been the producer of Six-Five Special, a BBC TV show that was devoted to rock and roll and skiffle, before moving to ITV, producing its first two rock and roll shows, “Oh Boy”, and “Boy Meets Girls”. And it was Good who suggested that Vincent switch from his normal polite-looking stagewear into black leather, and that he accentuate the postural problems his disability caused him.   Vincent’s appearances on “Boy Meets Girls”, dressed in black leather, hunched over, in pain because of his leg, defined for British teenagers of the 1950s what a rock and roller was meant to look like. At a time when few American rock and roll stars were visiting the UK, and even fewer were getting any exposure on the very small number of TV shows that were actually broadcast — this was when there were only two TV channels in the UK, and they broadcast for only a few hours — Gene Vincent being *here*, and on British TV, meant the world. And on a show like Boy Meets Girls, where the rest of the acts were people like Cliff RIchard or Adam Faith, having a mean, moody, leather-clad rock and roller on screen was instantly captivating. For a generation of British rockers, Gene Vincent epitomised American rock and roll.   Until in 1960 he was on a tour of the UK that ended in tragedy. But that’s a story for another time…

Episode thirty-five of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” by Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, and at the terrible afterlife of child stardom. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Space Guitar” by Johnny “Guitar” Watson. —-more—- Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode. There are no books on the Teenagers, as far as I know, so as I so often do when talking about vocal groups I relied heavily on Marv Goldberg’s website. Some information also comes from Big Beat Heat: Alan Freed and the Early Years of Rock & Roll by John A. Jackson. Some background on George Goldner was from Hound Dog: The Leiber and Stoller Autobiography by Jerry Leiber, Mike Stoller, and David Ritz. And for more on Morris Levy, see Me, the Mob, and the Music, by Tommy James with Martin Fitzpatrick. This compilation contains every recording by Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, together or separately, as well as recordings by Lewis Lymon and the Teenchords, a group led by Lymon’s brother. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript The story of Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers is, like so many of the stories we’re dealing with in this series, a story of heartbreak and early death, a story of young people of colour having their work become massively successful and making no money off it because of wealthy businessmen stealing their work. But it’s also a story of what happens when you get involved with the Mafia before you hit puberty, and your career peaks at thirteen. The Teenagers only had one really big hit, but it was one of the biggest hits of the fifties, and it was a song that is almost universally known to this day. So today we’re going to talk about “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” The Teenagers started when two black teenagers from New York, Jimmy Merchant and Sherman Garnes, left the vocal group they’d formed, which was named “the Earth Angels” after the Penguins song, and hooked up with two Latino neighbours, Joe Negroni and Herman Santiago. They named themselves the Ermines. Soon after, they were the support act for local vocal group the Cadillacs: [Excerpt, The Cadillacs, “Speedoo”] They were impressed enough by the Cadillacs that in honour of them they changed their name, becoming the Coup de Villes, and after that the Premiers. They used to practice in the hallway of the apartment block where Sherman Garnes lived, and eventually one of the neighbours got sick of hearing them sing the same songs over and over. The neighbour decided to bring out some love letters his girlfriend had written, some of which were in the form of poems, and say to the kids “why don’t you turn some of these into songs?” And so they did just that — they took one of the letters, containing the phrase “why do birds sing so gay?” and Santiago and Merchant worked out a ballad for Santiago to sing containing that phrase. Soon after this, the Premiers met up with a very young kid, Frankie Lymon, who sang and played percussion in a mambo group. I suppose I should pause here to talk briefly about the mambo craze. Rock and roll wasn’t the only musical style that was making inroads in the pop markets in the fifties — and an impartial observer, looking in 1953 or 1954, might easily have expected that the big musical trend that would shape the next few decades would be calypso music, which had become huge in the US for a brief period. But that wasn’t the only music that was challenging rock and roll. There were a whole host of other musics, usually those from Pacific, Latin-American and/or Caribbean cultures, which tend to get lumped together as “exotica” now, and “mambo” was one of those. This was a craze named after a song by the Cuban bandleader Perez Prado, “Mambo Jambo”: [Excerpt: Perez Prado, “Mambo Jambo”] That song was popular enough that soon everyone was jumping on the bandwagon — for example, Bill Haley and the Comets with “Mambo Rock”: [Excerpt: Bill Haley and the Comets, “Mambo Rock”] The group that Frankie Lymon was performing with was one of those groups, but he was easily persuaded instead to join the Premiers. He was the young kid who hung around with them when they practiced, not the leader, and not even a major part of the group. Not yet, anyway. But everything changed for the group when Richie Barrett heard them singing on a street corner near him. These days, Barrett is best-known for his 1962 single “Some Other Guy”, which was later covered by the Beatles, among others: [Excerpt: Richie Barrett, “Some Other Guy”] But at the time he was the lead singer of a group called the Valentines: [Excerpt: The Valentines, “Tonight Kathleen”] He was also working for George Goldner at Rama Records as a talent scout and producer, doing the same kind of things that Ike Turner had been doing for Chess and Modern, or that Jesse Stone did for Atlantic — finding the acts, doing the arrangements, doing all the work involved in turning some teenage kid into someone who could become a star. Goldner was someone for whom most people in the music industry seem to have a certain amount of contempt — he was, by most accounts, a fairly weak-willed figure who got himself into great amounts of debt with dodgy people. But one thing they’re all agreed on is that he had a great ear for a hit, because as Jerry Leiber put it he had the taste of a fourteen-year-old girl. George Goldner had actually got into R&B through the mambo craze. When Goldner had started in the music industry, it had been as the owner of a chain of nightclubs which featured Latin music. The clubs became popular enough that he also started Tico Records, a label that put out Latin records, most notably early recordings by Tito Puente. [Excerpt: Tito Puente: “Vibe Mambo”] When the mambo boom hit, a lot of black teenagers started attending Goldner’s clubs, and he became interested in the other music they were listening to. He started first Rama Records, as a label for R&B singles, and then Gee records, named after the most successful record that had been put out on Rama, “Gee”, by the Crows. However, Goldner had a business partner, and his name was Morris Levy, and Levy was *not* someone you wanted involved in your business in any way. In this series we’re going to talk about a lot of horrible people — and in fact we’ve already covered more than a few of them — yet Morris Levy was one of the worst people we’re going to look at. While most of the people we’ve discussed are either terrible people in their personal life (if they were a musician) or a minor con artist who ripped off musicians and kept the money for themselves, Morris Levy was a terrible human being *and* a con artist, someone who used his Mafia connections to ensure that the artists he ripped off would never even think of suing him, because they valued their lives too much. We’ll be looking at at least one rock and roll star, in the 1960s, who died in mysterious circumstances after getting involved with Levy. Levy had been the founder of Birdland, the world-famous jazz club, in the 1940s, but when ASCAP came to him asking for the money they were meant to get for their songwriters from live performances, Levy had immediately seen the possibilities in music publishing. Levy then formed a publishing company, Patricia Music, and a record label, Roulette, and started into the business of properly exploiting young black people, not just having them work in his clubs for a night, but having them create intellectual property he could continue exploiting for the rest of his life. Indeed, Levy was so keen to make money off dubious intellectual property that he actually formed a company with his friend Alan Freed which attempted to trademark the phrase “rock and roll”, on the basis that this way any records that came out labelled as such would have to pay them for the privilege. Thankfully, the term caught on so rapidly that there was no way for them to enforce the trademark, and it became genericised. But this is who Levy was, and how he made his money — at least his more legitimate money. Where he got the rest from is a matter for the true crime podcasts. There are several people who report death threats, or having to give up their careers, or suddenly move thousands of miles away from home, to avoid Levy’s revenge on artists who didn’t do exactly what he said. So when we’re looking at a group of literal teenage kids — and black teenagers at that, with the smallest amount of institutional privilege possible, you can be sure that he was not going to treat them with the respect that they were due. Levy owned fifty percent of Goldner’s record companies, and would soon grow to own all of them, as Goldner accumulated more gambling debts and used his record labels to pay them off. But at the start of their career, the group didn’t yet have to worry about Levy. That would come later. For now, they were dealing with George Goldner. And Goldner was someone who was actually concerned with the music, and who had been producing hits consistently for the last few years. At the time the Premiers signed with him, for example, he had just produced “You Baby You” for the Cleftones. [Excerpt: The Cleftones, “You Baby You”] When Richie Barrett brought the Premiers to Goldner, he was intrigued because two of the members were Latino, and he was such a lover of Latin music. But he quickly latched on to the potential of Frankie Lymon as a star. Lymon was a captivating performer, and when you watch video footage of him now you can’t help but think of Michael Jackson, who followed almost exactly the same early career trajectory a decade later. While the other band members were the normal kind of teenage kids who joined doo-wop groups, and were clearly a little reserved, Lymon just *went for it*, working the crowd like a young James Brown with absolutely no self-consciousness at all. He also had a gorgeous falsetto voice, and knew how to use it. As we’ve heard, many of the doo-wop groups of the fifties weren’t particularly proficient singers, but Lymon did have a real vocal talent. He was clearly a potential star. Frankie Lymon wasn’t even originally meant to be the lead singer on “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” — that distinctive falsetto that makes the record so memorable was a late addition. The song was originally meant to be sung by Herman Santiago, and it was only in the studio that the song was rearranged to instead focus on the band’s youngest — and youngest-sounding — member. [Excerpt: Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?”] When the record came out, it wasn’t credited to the Premiers, but to “The Teenagers, featuring Frankie Lymon”. Goldner hadn’t liked the group’s name, and decided to focus on their big selling point — their youth, and in particular the youth of their new lead singer. Much of the work to make the record sound that good was done not by the Teenagers or by Goldner, but by the session saxophone player Jimmy Wright, who ended up doing the arrangements on all of the Teenagers’ records, and whose idea it was to start them with Sherman Garnes’ bass intros. Again, as with so many of these records, there was a white cover version that came out almost immediately — this time by the Diamonds, a group of Canadians who copied the formula of their fellow countrymen the Crew Cuts and more or less cornered the market in white remakes of doo-wop hits. [Excerpt: The Diamonds, “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?”] But in a sign of how the times were changing, the Diamonds’ version of the song only went to number twelve, while the Teenagers’ version went to number six, helped by a massive push from Morris Levy’s good friend Alan Freed. Partly this may have been down to the fact that all the Diamonds were adults, and they simply couldn’t compete with the novelty sound of a boy who sounded prepubescent, singing in falsetto. Falsetto had, of course, always been a part of the doo-wop vocal blend, but it had been a minor part up to this point. Lead vocals would generally be sung in a smooth high tenor, but would very rarely reach to the truly high notes. Lymon, by virtue of his voice not yet having broken, introduced a new timbre into rock and roll lead vocals, and he influenced almost every vocal group that followed. There might have been a Four Seasons or a Jan and Dean or a Beach Boys without Lymon, but I doubt it. There was also a British cover version, by Alma Cogan, a middle-of-the-road singer known as “the girl with the giggle in her voice”. [Excerpt: Alma Cogan, “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?”] This sort of thing was common in Britain well into the sixties, as most US labels didn’t have distribution in the UK, and so if British people wanted to hear American rock and roll songs, they would often get them in native cover versions. Cogan was a particular source of these, often recording songs that had been R&B hits. We will see a lot more of this in future episodes, as we start to look more at the way rock and roll affected the UK. The Teenagers followed the success of “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” with “I Want You to Be My Girl”: [Excerpt, Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, “I Want You to Be My Girl”] This one did almost as well, reaching a peak of number thirteen in the pop charts. But the singles after that did less well, although “I’m Not A Juvenile Delinquent” became a big hit in the UK. The record label soon decided that Lymon needed to become a solo star, rather than being just the lead singer of the Teenagers. Quite why they made this decision was difficult to say, as one would not normally deliberately break up a hit act. But presumably the calculation was that they would then have two hit acts — solo Frankie Lymon, and the Teenagers still recording together. It didn’t work out like that. Lymon inadvertently caused another crisis in the ongoing battle of rock and roll versus racism. Alan Freed had a new TV series, The Big Beat, which was a toned-down version of Freed’s radio show. By this point, real rock and roll was already in a temporary decline as the major labels fought back, and so Freed’s show was generally filled with the kind of pre-packaged major label act, usually named Bobby, that we’ll be talking about when we get to the later fifties. For all that Freed had a reputation as a supporter of black music, what he really was was someone with the skill to see a bandwagon and jump on it. But still, some of the black performers were still popular, and so Freed had Lymon on his showr. But his show was aimed at a white audience, and so the studio audience was white, and dancing. And Frankie Lymon started to dance as well. A black boy, dancing with a white girl. This did not go down well at all with the Southern network affiliates, and within a couple of weeks Freed’s show had been taken off the TV. And that appearance, the one that destroyed Freed’s show, was almost certainly Lymon’s very first ever solo performance. One might think that this did not augur well for his future career, and that assessment would be largely correct. Neither Lymon nor the Teenagers would ever have another hit after they split. The last few records credited to Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers were in fact Lymon solo recordings, performed with other backing singers. “Goody Goody” did manage to reach number twenty on the pop charts: [Excerpt: Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, “Goody Goody”] Everything after that did worse. Lymon’s first solo single, “My Girl”, failed to chart: [Excerpt: Frankie Lymon, “My Girl”] He continued making records for another couple of years, but nothing came of any of them, and when his voice broke he stopped sounding much like himself. The last recording he made that came even close to being a hit was a remake of Bobby Day’s “Little Bitty Pretty One” from 1960. [Excerpt: Frankie Lymon, “Little Bitty Pretty One”] And the Teenagers didn’t fare much better. They went through several new lead singers. There was Billy Lobrano, a white kid who according to Jimmy Merchant sounded more like Eddie Fisher than like Lymon: [Excerpt: The Teenagers, “Mama Wanna Rock”] Then there was Freddie Houston, who would go on to be the lead singer in one of the many Ink Spots lineups touring in the sixties, and then they started trying to focus on the other original group members, for example calling themselves “Sherman and the Teenagers” when performing the Leiber and Stoller song “The Draw”: [Excerpt: Sherman and the Teenagers, “The Draw”] As you can hear, none of these had the same sound as they’d had with Lymon, and they eventually hit on the idea of getting a woman into the group instead. They got in Sandra Doyle, who would later be Zola Taylor’s replacement in the Platters, and struggled on until 1961, when they finally split up. Lymon’s life after leaving the Teenagers was one of nothing but tragedy. He married three times, every time bigamously, and his only child died two days after the birth. Lymon would apparently regularly steal from Zola Taylor, who became his second wife, to feed his heroin addiction. He briefly reunited with the Teenagers in 1965, but they had little success. He spent a couple of years in the army, and appeared to have got himself clean, and even got a new record deal. But the night before he was meant to go back into the studio, he fell off the wagon, for what would be the last time. Frankie Lymon died, aged just twenty-five, and a has-been for almost half of his life, of a heroin overdose, in 1968. The other Teenagers would reunite, with Lymon’s brother joining them briefly, in the 70s. Sherman Garnes died in 1977, and Joe Negroni in 1978, but Santiago and Merchant continued, off and on, with a lineup of the Teenagers — a version of the band continues to this day, still featuring Herman Santiago, and Merchant remained with the band until his retirement a few years ago. But their first hit caused legal problems: [Excerpt: Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?”] “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?” was written by Herman Santiago, with the help of Jimmy Merchant. But neither Santiago or Merchant were credited on the song when it came out. The credited songwriters for the song are Frankie Lymon — who did have some input into rewriting it in the studio — and Morris Levy, who had never even heard the song until after it was a massive hit. George Goldner was originally credited as Lymon’s co-writer, and of course Goldner never wrote it either, but at least he was in the studio when it was recorded. But when Levy bought out Goldner’s holdings in his companies, he also bought out his rights to songs he was credited for, so Levy became the legal co-writer of “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” In 1992 Santiago and Merchant finally won the credit for having written “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?”, but in 1996 the ruling was overturned. They’d apparently waited too long to take legal action over having their song stolen, and so the rights reverted to Lymon and Morris Levy — who had never even met the band when they wrote the song. But, of course, Lymon wasn’t alive to get the money. But his widow was. Or rather, his widows, plural, were. In the 1980s, three separate women claimed to be Lymon’s widow and thus his legitimate heir. One was his first wife, who he had married in 1964 while she was still married to her first husband. One was Zola Taylor, who Lymon supposedly married bigamously a year after his first marriage, but who couldn’t produce any evidence of this, and the third was either his second or third wife, who he married bigamously in 1967 while still married to his first, and possibly his second, wife. That third wife eventually won the various legal battles and is now in charge of the Frankie Lymon legacy. “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?” has gone on to be a standard, recorded by everyone from Joni Mitchell to the Beach Boys to Diana Ross. But Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers stand as a cautionary tale, an example that all too many people were still all too eager to follow.

The jangle, the murmur, the pulse and the passion. Between 1980 and 2011 a kinetic, iconoclastic quartet from the Deep South reshaped American rock and roll. They were REM. Melodic but visceral. Ever-shifting but consistently excellent. Their bass player and harmony vocalist Mike Mills is my guest. The occasion for this special edition of The String is the 25th anniversary of the album that elevated REM from an extremely popular and respected alternative rock band to global superstars. 1991's Out Of Time. Mills and I spoke before a live audience at Nashville's City Winery. The event was arranged by speaker series Who Knew. And toward the end of the show, I found some time machine tape that will let us here the other member of REM, including lead singer Michael Stipe, talking about music making in 1989.    

Vocalist, musician and producer, Greg Lake is one of the most prominent and popular musicians in the world and has often been described as having the voice of a generation. He first won worldwide acclaim as lead vocalist, bass guitarist and producer when together with Robert Fripp he formed King Crimson. Their first album, In Court of the Crimson King, co-produced by Greg, featured the iconic song "21st Century Schizoid Man." King Crimson pioneered progressive rock and paved the way for famous bands that followed, including Yes and Genesis all the way through to bands such as The Red Hot Chilli Peppers and countless others. Fripp and Lake met when they shared the same Dorset guitar teacher who taught an expansive range of music including classical pieces by Paganini and post war classics. Lake also listened to early American rock and roll and was inspired by everything he heard, from Elvis to classical. Greg says "There is a common thread throughout all the music. The forms may be different, but each one to some degree draws upon inspiration from the past. I am as proud to have been as influenced by people like Elvis and Little Richard as I am by composers like Copeland and Prokofiev and I'm honoured when other musicians regard me as one of their inspirations." Slacker chats about the new, Anthology. #Greglake.com @GregLakeWebsite #slackermorningshow101thefox

Today in 1978, the American rock and roll outfit, Van Halen, signed with Warner Brothers records. On today's "A Day in the Life," we turn our attention to the early days of the band and learn why they changed their name from "Mammoth".

Liberty Devitto is an American rock and roll icon and percussion royalty. He is best known as the drummer for Billy Joel, but has had quite a successful career performing with other artists in addition to his hot band, The Slim Kings! In New York, wherever you go, he's a household name, regardless of young or old, he is beloved by all. On today's show, he's going to share some exciting news about a long overdue reunion! So, I'd like to welcome to the show, Mr. Liberty Devitto! In this segment of The Organic View Radio Show, host, June Stoyer talks to the legendary rock ‘n' roll drummer, Liberty Devitto about this historic reunion! Stay tuned! Today's show is sponsored by Eden Foods the most trusted name in certified organic clean food! When you shop online at EdenFoods.com enter the coupon code “ORGVIEW” to receive 20% OFF any regularly priced items (excluding cases). For other promotional offers, please visit TheOrganicView.com's website. Do you like FREE stuff? Tune in to The Organic View Radio Show, Monday through Friday @6pm Eastern and visit our contest section at www.theorganicview.com/contests to win one of our monthly prizes!

Today in 1981, the American rock and roll outfit, Blondie, released "Rapture." Not only was the song the first to reach number one on the Billboard Chart that featured a rap vocal, it was also the first rap music video ever broadcast on MTV. On today's "A Day in the Life," learn who had cameo appearances in the video and eclectic group of folks who have sampled the song.