Podcast appearances and mentions of John Sinclair

Long ago and far away, around 1970, there was a smoldering rage that permeated through every strata of American society. Following a flurry of assassinations in the mid sixties, the Manson murders in ‘69, riots in Detroit, the Motor City in '67, and in Chicago at the 1968 Democratic Convention, at Kent State in ‘70 with the murder of four protesting students - it seemed that the whole fabric of society was coming apart due to the country being mired in the Viet Nam war and the never ending specter of racism.  Step up to the mic Gil Scott-Heron and the MC5. In “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” Mr. Scott-Heron, in a performance that has earned him the title “The Godfather of Rap” in some quarters - eviscerates those couch potatoes who are watching it all unfold on tv, and that expect things to right themselves between commercial interruptions. And he does it with jazzy flair that made the absurdity of the whole situation crystal clear.. And, then there was the  Motor City 5, those scruffy provocateurs whose manager, John Sinclair was jailed for two joints, who fought the good fight the only way they knew how: by “Kicking out the Jams, Motherfucker!”GIL SCOTT-HERONScott-Heron's combination of spoken word poetry with soul-jazz is a style which has made him influential throughout the decades. So much so that he was inducted as an influence in the Rock and roll Hall of Fame. In “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” he melds the two strains  - one melodic, one verbal - together to deliver an unassailable message: there will be no change without intentional activism. It's word play may be humorous, but it's deadly serious. Now we have the internet and social media and people are less inclined to believe what they see, or even commit to any action because their attention is being relentlessly consumed. In 1970, despite the horrendous condition of the political scene, Gil Scott-Heron still believed that societal change was possible.MC5The same optimism resounds in Kick out the Jams by the MC5. These were kids who saw the wrong headed direction of their government, and tried, by assuming the outlaw stance of revolutionaries, to influence the youth. However, the enterprise was hobbled from the start by drugs, their association with White Panther Party founder, John Sinclair, - and, the radio censorship by their label of their most famous song because of the introduction's unacceptable word “motherfucker!” They were a great live band of proto-punks, home-town heroes in Detroit, who never achieved the national prominence they deserved. It's not the lyrics of Kick out the jams that are dangerous - it's the exuberant energy of the offending word - that, ironically, created history.

In der aktuellen Diggytalk-Folge begrüßen wir Jason Dark, das Pseudonym von Helmut Rellergerd – dem erfolgreichsten deutschen Romanautor mit über 250 Millionen verkauften Büchern. Seit den 1970er Jahren ist er die kreative Kraft hinter der legendären Gruselserie „Geisterjäger John Sinclair“.Helmut erzählt von seinem ungewöhnlichen Weg: vom Chemotechniker mit dem Traum, Journalist zu werden, hin zum gefeierten Schriftsteller, dessen Manuskripte trotz vieler Absagen schließlich als „Gespensterkrimis“ den Durchbruch schafften. Seine Geschichten rund um John Sinclair sind weit mehr als Horror und Fantasy – sie verweben spannende Abenteuer mit faszinierenden historischen Elementen wie den Tempelrittern und Atlantis.Im Interview verrät Jason Dark, wie er bis heute mit seiner mechanischen Schreibmaschine Romane verfasst, warum die Beretta zur Waffe seines Helden wurde und wie Synchronsprecher-Größen wie Dietmar Wunder und Joachim Kerzel seinen Hörspielen Leben einhauchen. Außerdem spricht er über seine enge Fangemeinde – und das Geheimnis, warum John Sinclair seit Jahrzehnten fesselt.Freut euch auf spannende Anekdoten, exklusive Einblicke und ein Gespräch mit dem „Fürsten der Finsternis“ persönlich.Und noch ein Tipp: Schaut unbedingt bei Silke & Claudia (@nerd_ich.by.nature) vorbei – dort gibt es fantastische, liebevoll gestaltete Kekse.Wir wünschen gute Unterhaltung.Hier findet ihr das Diggytalk-Impressum:https://www.diggytalk.de/impressum.html Copyright 2025 DiggytalkDiggytalk ist eine eingetragene Marke von Dominik Grote Besucht uns auf Instagram (@diggytalk) für weitere Informationen zum Podcast und regelmäßigem Content aus den Bereichen Hörspiel, Synchron und Film. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In dieser Ausgabe unseres John-Sinclair-Podcasts spricht Amy mit dem Lektor der John-Sinclair-Romanhefte, Peter Thannisch. Peters Beruf als Lektor und wie er zu John Sinclair gefunden hat. Oder war es etwa andersherum? Außerdem werden brennende Fragen aus der Community aufgegriffen und es gibt sogar ein oder zwei kleine Ausblicke in die Zukunft der Romanhefte.Eine Podcast-Folge, die ihr nicht verpassen solltet! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Wenn es schaurig und übernatürlich wird, blüht er so richtig auf: Florian Hilleberg. Der Göttinger Autor ist seit über zehn Jahren Teil des Autor:innenteams, das für neue gruselige Romanhefte, Hörspiele und Bücher im Universum des Geisterjägers John Sinclair zuständig ist. Nach vielen Heftromanen ist er nun für das Script zum Hörspiel-Dreiteiler rund um gruselige Eulen verantwortlich. Jetzt ist der zweite Teil „Strigen-Terror“ herausgekommen. Mehr über das 182. ...

Passend zu unserem NIGHT TALK Nr. 90 über die Großen Alten im Sinclair-Universum, haben wir die aktuelle Podcast-Folge ganz dem ursprünglichen Schöpfer dieser Wesen gewidmet: H.P. LovecraftDaher haben wir die Lovecraft-Expertin Dr. Rahel Sixta Schmitz zu uns in den Verlag eingeladen, um sich mit Social-Media-Manager Michael ausführlich über den Altmeister des Grauens zu unterhalten. Das Gespräch beginnt mit einem Überblick über das Leben Lovecrafts, bevor es dann im Anschluss mit seinen wichtigsten Werken sowie besonders gelungenen Umsetzungen (Film, Comic, Pen-&-Paper-Rollenspiel etc.) weitergeht, wobei auch die Schattenseiten des berühmten Autors nicht ausgeklammert werden. Thematisch hat diese Folge also einiges zu bieten - hört doch gerne mal rein! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In dieser Ausgabe unseres John Sinclair Podcasts gehen Amy und Sinclair-Autorin Marlene Klein auf die Jagd nach Werwölfen. Bernd Küppers führt die beiden auf die Spuren des Werwolfs Peter Stubbe in Bedburg. Achtung! Dem Thema entsprechend ist diese Folge wortwörtlich gespickt mit Details, die nichts für schwache Nerven sind. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Jede Woche erscheint in Deutschland ein neues John Sinclair Romanheft. Über 50 Jahre lang hat sie ein Autor aus dem Sauerland geschrieben: Jason Dark. Sein Verlag Bastei Lübbe hatte vor über zehn Jahren ein achtköpfiges Autorenteam zusammengestellt, das ihn beim Schreiben der Horrorgeschichten unterstützt. Florian Hilleberg aus Göttingen gehört dazu. Nach vielen Heftromanen hat er nun das Dialogbuch des neusten Hörspiels „Zeit der Grausamen“ geschrieben. Mehr über das 181. ...

In dieser Ausgabe unseres John Sinclair Podcasts spricht Amy mit Emanuel Bergmann alias Gabriel Conroy, der gemeinsam mit zwei weiteren Mitstreitern das neue Autorenteam bildet. Sie sprechen über die Herausforderung und die große inhaltliche Verantwortung, die mit der Fortführung der Serie einhergehen. Immer mit dem Ansporn, es so gut wie möglich zu machen.Der ein oder andere Teaser zu den neuen Hörspielfolgen darf natürlich nicht fehlen. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Für die aktuelle Diggytalkfolge haben wir Friedhelm Ptok interviewen dürfen.Er ist Schauspieler und Synchronsprecher. Wir kennen ihn alle als Stimme von Palpatine/Darth Sidious aus Star Wars. Aber auch Derek Jacobi synchronisiert er u.a. in „Anonymous“ oder „Tolkien“. Doch Friedhelm macht noch soviel mehr! Er steht mit 91 Jahren noch regelmäßig auf der Theaterbühne. Hier erzählt er uns ein paar Anekdoten, was den Reiz des Schauspiels ausmacht. Wusstet ihr, dass Friedhelm eigentlich Buchdrucker gelernt hat? Wie ist er also zum Synchron gekommen? Hört hier auf jeden Fall rein und seid gespannt.Was verbindet Friedhelm mit den Drei Fragezeichen? Nun, hier kennt er unseren „Dritten“ Andreas Fröhlich ganz gut. Anbei ist er auch in Hörspielen, wie „Dark Lord“ oder „Geisterjäger John Sinclair“ zu hören. Außerdem erzählt er noch, wie er zu „Star Wars“ gekommen ist.Wir wünschen gute Unterhaltung.E-Mail: kontakt@diggytalk.de Besucht uns auf www.diggytalk.de für weitere Informationen zum Podcast und regelmäßigem Content aus den Bereichen Hörspiel, Synchron und Film.Hier findet ihr das Diggytalk-Impressum:https://www.diggytalk.de/impressum.html Vielen Dank an MassiveVoices aus Berlin, an dieser Stelle. Copyright 2025 DiggytalkDiggytalk ist eine eingetragene Marke von Dominik Grote Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In 1971, John Lennon performed publicly, for the first time in five years, at a rally decrying the injustice of Michigan police targeting a radical political activist for an elaborate undercover sting operation, resulting in a sentence of ten years in prison for passing two joints. The concert brought massive media attention, and John Sinclair soon after walked out of prison a free man, landing John Lennon on Richard Nixon's official enemies list. For the next three years, the President's "plumbers" harassed the former Beatle and his wife Yoko Ono, while the INS threatened him with deportation over an old hashish bust back in England. Meanwhile the FBI tapped his phones and sent agents to tail his every move. Lennon, Ono, and their legal team fought them every step, and along the way created a new legal precedent in immigration law that still stands as today's DREAM act. Read John Lennon vs. The USA (written by Lennon's immigration attorney Leon Wildes) for more info. Long live Nutopia! PATREON Please support Great Moments in Weed HIstory on Patreon. Supporters get exclusive access to video versions of this podcast and private seshes, plus cool rewards like a signed book. And it truly helps us make the best show possible. EPISODE ARCHIVE Visit our podcast feed for 150+ episodes of Great Moments in Weed History, and subscribe now to get a new weekly podcast every Weednesday.

During the Hash Bash weekend in Ann Arbor, I had the opportunity to capture a conversation with photographer & activist Leni Sinclair. We discussed how Hash Bash came to be & how cannabis is still used as a political tool! This conversation is one that holds a lot of value, and is worth multiple listens! The rabbit hole is nearly endless and worth researching for yourself! It's worth learning about the White Panther Party, The MC5, and the link between John Sinclair's arrest and Watergate. I also take some time to reflect on what I personally learned from that conversation. There's also a fun 4/20 memory at the end of the episode too! Terps N ThingsTerp Style Flower - Point Break & Mimosa12mm Riptip - Orange + Yellow Thank you to the Terp Traders Anonymous team for making this conversation possible! Thank you for listening and please make sure you check out all of our social medias and subscribe to our YouTube and Patreon!https://www.instagram.com/terpenetherapypodcast/https://www.patreon.com/terpenetherapypodcasthttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIuE6pg63WB2dwZ--1SgTig/featuredDisclaimer: This is an educational Podcast with comedic attributes to educate and entertain the viewer about my Life. In this video, I walked around a few places and documented my experience, and gave each location a rating. In certain parts of the Podcast, My Visual Effects team used Green Screen and CGI (Computer Generated Imagery) to simulate smoke, for comedic effect and expression. There is no real smoke in this video, and every viewer of the Documentary knows this. This is not the main focus of the video, just as a comedic expression in this larger Podcast. My special effects team works hard to make everything realistic while leaving a hint of artistic expression, to make the smoke simulations noticeably fake. This documentary has been endorsed as educational content to educate and teach the viewer. Thank YouSupport the show

Passend zum aktuellen Sinclair-Spin-off "Atlantis Legenden" präsentiert euch Social-Media-Manager Michael in der heutigen Podcast-Folge einen kleinen Überblick zum Themenfeld #Atlantis.⛰️

Herzlich willkommen zum BB RADIO Mitternachtstalk! Ich bin Jens Herrmann und freue mich riesig, dass ihr wieder mit dabei seid. Heute habe ich einen ganz besonderen Gast – eine Stimme, die ihr garantiert schon unzählige Male gehört habt! Er ist Schauspieler, Synchronsprecher, Hörbuchinterpret, Synchronregisseur – und eine echte Legende in der Branche: Dietmar Wunder! Wenn Daniel Craig als James Bond cool „Geschüttelt, nicht gerührt“ sagt oder Adam Sandler seine verrückten Sprüche klopft, dann steckt dahinter – genau, Dietmar Wunder! Seit 2006 leiht er dem britischen Geheimagenten seine markante Stimme und sorgt dafür, dass wir Bond auch auf Deutsch mit Gänsehaut genießen können. Doch das ist längst nicht alles: Auch Hollywood-Stars wie Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cheadle, Sam Rockwell und Rob Lowe sprechen auf Deutsch mit seiner unverwechselbaren Stimme. Aber wusstet ihr, dass er ursprünglich gar nicht Synchronsprecher werden wollte? Als Kind hat ihn Sean Connery als James Bond so sehr fasziniert, dass er Schauspieler werden wollte. Zunächst ging es aber in eine ganz andere Richtung: Er machte sein Abitur und absolvierte eine Ausbildung zum Augenoptiker. Doch die Leidenschaft für die Schauspielerei ließ ihn nicht los. Parallel nahm er Schauspielunterricht an der renommierten Privatschule von Maria Körber – ein Glück für uns alle, denn so begann eine beeindruckende Karriere! Seine ersten Synchronrollen hatte er Anfang der 90er, unter anderem in den Serien „Happy Days“, „Twin Peaks“ und „Ausgerechnet Alaska“. Doch das war erst der Anfang! Inzwischen ist Dietmar Wunder in zahllosen Serien zu hören – ob in „Ally McBeal“, „Gilmore Girls“, „Dr. House“ oder „CSI: NY“. Auch in der Zeichentrickwelt war er aktiv – zum Beispiel in „Tabaluga“! Doch nicht nur im Synchronstudio ist er ein echter Profi. Als Synchronregisseur hat er große Kinoproduktionen betreut, darunter Blockbuster wie „Die Chroniken von Narnia“, „Miami Vice“ und „Avatar – Aufbruch nach Pandora“. Auch als Hörbuchsprecher begeistert er sein Publikum: In der „Millennium“-Trilogie von Stieg Larsson, der „Alex-Cross“-Reihe von James Patterson oder in den Thrillern von Jeffrey Deaver – seine Stimme zieht uns immer wieder in den Bann. Und natürlich dürfen wir „Geisterjäger John Sinclair“ nicht vergessen – eine absolute Kultreihe! Dietmar Wunder ist ein Mann mit vielen Talenten, aber vor allem ist er eine faszinierende Persönlichkeit. Wenn er spricht, kann man gar nicht anders, als ihm gebannt zuzuhören – ein Gespräch mit ihm vergeht wie im Flug! Also, lehnt euch zurück und freut euch auf einen spannenden Mitternachtstalk mit der Stimme Hollywoods: Dietmar Wunder!

In dieser Folge von Die Leichtigkeit der Kunst reisen wir durch 1.250 Jahre westfälischer Literaturgeschichte – von Tacitus bis John Sinclair, von Annette von Droste-Hülshoff bis Elina Penner. Gemeinsam mit dem Literaturwissenschaftler und Herausgeber Prof. Dr. Walter Gödden erkunden wir, wie Literatur Identität stiftet, welche Stimmen das Bild Westfalens geprägt haben – und warum es manchmal gerade der Blick von außen ist, der den spannendsten Ton trifft. Wir sprechen über vergessene Autor:innen, neue literarische Stimmen, das Museum für Westfälische Literatur auf Haus Nottbeck, das Schmallenberger Ereignis, das Festival lila we – und über die Frage, wie viel Heimat eigentlich in einem Text steckt. Ein Gespräch über Bücher, Geschichte, Humor – und die literarische Kraft der Region.

In dieser Folge des John Sinclair Podcast unterhalten sich Amy und Sprecherin Pia-Rhona Saxe über einfach alles! Die beiden tauchen ein in die Welt von Sinclair, Serien, und über welche Umwege man zum Traumberuf der Sprecherin und Podcasterin kommen kann. Freut Euch auf ein witzig-informatives Potpourri, das nicht nur Einblicke in die Sinclair-Welt bereithält. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Für die aktuelle Diggytalkfolge haben wir Luise Lunow zu Gast. Sie ist die dienstälteste Synchronsprecherin. Selbstverständlich gehen wir hier auch auf ihre Rollen im Hörspielgenre ein. So war sie Lady Spretherssmith, Miss King und Miss Hares in Die drei ??? und der seltsame Wecker Live (2009). Hierzu werden einige Anekdoten zur Sprache kommen.Darüber hinaus hat sie die Tante Mania in „Bibi Blocksberg“ gesprochen, aber auch in „Geisterjäger John Sinclair“ dürfen wir ihrer Stimme lauschen. An dieser Stelle berichtet Luise auch darüber, wie sie zum Schauspiel bzw. zum Synchron gekommen ist.Stichwort „Loriot“: Auch in einigen Klassikern durfte Luise mitwirken. Hier muss man „Papa ante portas“ nennen. Wie hier wohl die Zusammenarbeit mit Loriot war?! Seid auf jeden Fall gespannt.Nun springen wir mal etwas in der Timeline nach vorne. Hört ihr auch gerne Rap? Falls ja, dann sei euch der Song „Acid auf Rädern“ von Enkelschreck ans Herz gelegt. Enkelschreck? Ja das ist das Pseudonym von Luise. Wie es wohl hierzu kam? Hört es selbst! Besucht uns auch gerne auf unserem Social Media. Unter www.instagram.com/diggytalk/ findet ihr noch mehr Content „Rund um die digitale Welt“. Copyright 2025 DiggytalkDiggytalk ist eine eingetragene Marke von Dominik Grote Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In dieser Folge lernt Amy das neue Produktions-Team von STIL kennen und stellt Simon Bertling und Christian Hagitte die Fragen, die den Fans auf der Seele brennen und worauf sie sich ab Folge 180 gefasst machen können. Als wäre dies nicht schon aufregend genug, lernt Amy den neuen Sinclair-Erzähler und Schauspieler Gregor Höppner kennen. Gemeinsam sprechen sie über die Herausforderung und die Kunst des Sprechens und was das Besondere an den neuen John Sinclair Hörspielfolgen aus dem Hause STIL ist. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Zum Jahresbeginn werfen Amy Zayed und Hennes Bender einen Blick zurück auf 4 Jahre bzw. 100 Folgen John-Sinclair-Podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

When you watch a movie in a crowded theater, you give your undivided attention to the experience itself. Your senses lock into the action on the screen and the sound from the speakers, and you're completely immersed. World's First Cinema replicate the moviegoing experience in their music. The Los Angeles-based duo—John Sinclair and Fil Thorpe—project a myriad of intimate emotions across widescreen soundscapes underpinned by scenes of alternative, indie, pop, and electronic. After amassing over 20 million streams and counting and earning widespread acclaim from WONDERLAND., EUPHORIA., Earmilk, The Line of Best Fit, and many more. A mutual friend invited John and Fil to a game night, and they naturally started chatting. A few weeks later, they met up for a session, cooking up their 2020 debut single “Can't Feel Anything.” It eventually generated 2.2 million Spotify streams followed by “Red Run Cold” with 7.5 million Spotify streams. Both songs adorned their debut Rituals EP in 2021. They inspired tastemaker praise with “Supernatural.” Of the latter, The Line of Best Fit urged, “think Panic! at the Disco meets Michael Jackson's ‘Thriller' – it's fun, funky and spooky,” and WONDERLAND. attested, “the L.A.-based duo are redefining pop one theatrical rock melody at a time.” Carrying this momentum into 2022, “Young Beast” generated 1.7 million Spotify streams, and they teamed up with Punctual for the fan favorite “Castles.” In the end, World's First Cinema present an escape worthy of the big screen, and you'll never want the credits to roll.www.caughtonthemike.com

In this special episode of Rock is Lit, host Christy Alexander Hallberg hands the mic to teacher, podcaster, and DJ Andrew Smith, who interviews his friend Peter Werbe about Peter's debut novel, ‘Summer On Fire'. Peter also reads an excerpt from the book. Peter Werbe is a veteran of Detroit's alternative and commercial media scene, as well as a political activist. A member of the editorial collective of ‘Fifth Estate' magazine, his work appears in its online archive. His radio career spanned Detroit's major rock stations—WABX, WWWW, WRIF, and WCSX—where he hosted Nightcall, WRIF's phone-in talk show and the longest-running program of its kind in U.S. radio history (1970–2016). Peter's novel, written during the pandemic near his 80th birthday, is a fictionalized memoir about the 1967 Detroit Rebellion and its surrounding antiwar, psychedelic rock counterculture. Set in a transformative seven weeks, ‘Summer On Fire' explores the radical Detroit scene, featuring characters navigating protests, anarchism, fascist opposition, and rock and roll at the Grande Ballroom. Themes of ethical dilemmas echo today's societal crises. The book also captures the spirit of cultural icons like MC5, The Stooges, Wayne Kramer, and John Sinclair. Andrew Smith, host of Teacher On The Radio, is also a professor of English and religious studies at Tennessee Tech.   MUSIC IN THE EPISODE IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE: Rock is Lit theme music [Guitar Instrumental Beat] Sad Rock [Free Use Music] Punch Deck—“I Can't Stop” Late 60s Style Psychedelic Rock Track “Summer of Love”/License Music for Videos MC5 “Kick Out the Jams” Frank Zappa “Plastic People” Big Brother and the Holding Company “Down On Me” Bar-Kays “Soul Finger” John Lee Hooker “The Motor City is Burning” The Stooges “I Wanna Be Your Dog” [Guitar Instrumental Beat] Sad Rock [Free Use Music] Punch Deck—“I Can't Stop” Rock is Lit theme music    LINKS: Leave a rating and comment for Rock is Lit on Goodpods: https://goodpods.com/podcasts/rock-is-lit-212451 Leave a rating and comment for Rock is Lit on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rock-is-lit/id1642987350 Peter Werbe's website: https://www.peterwerbe.org/ Peter Werbe on Facebook: @PeterWerbe Andrew Smith's website: http://www.teacherontheradio.com/ Andrew Smith on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@teacherontheradio Andrew Smith on Facebook: @AndrewWilliamSmith Andrew Smith on Twitter: @teacheronradio Christy Alexander Hallberg's website: https://www.christyalexanderhallberg.com/rockislit Christy Alexander Hallberg on Instagram, Twitter, YouTube: @ChristyHallberg Rock is Lit on Instagram: @rockislitpodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

No More Tears, the sixth solo studio album by Ozzy Osbourne, was released at an interesting time in rock music.  Hair metal acts were in decline, and grunge was about to take off.  Nevertheless, Ozzy hit it big with this album, reaching number 7 on the Billboard 200 charts, and providing Osbourne's only solo top 40 hit.  No More Tears is generally considered his best album since his first two solo albums, "Blizzard of Oz," and "Diary of a Madman," both of which featured the late Randy Rhodes on guitar.  The songs on the album are largely written by Ozzy, drummer Randy Castillo, and guitarist Zakk Wylde.  Motorhead bassist and front man Lemmy Kilmister wrote the lyrics to four of the tracks on the album.  Additional musicians for this album were Bob Daisley on bass, and John Sinclair on keyboards.  This would be the last Ozzy album to feature Castillo and Daisley.As became more common in the compact disc era of the 90's, the tracks on this album tend to be longer than the typical single.  None of the tracks clock in at less than 4 minutes, and the longest falls just short of 7 1/2 minutes.  In addition to boasting Osbourne's first top 40 hit, he also received a Grammy for "Best Metal Performance" for the track "I Don't Want to Chane the World" when released on his "Live & Loud" album in 1994.Rob brings us this heavy metal throwback for this week's journey back to the 90's.Mama, I'm Coming HomeThis track peaked at number 28 on the Billboard Hot 100, making it Osbourne's only top 40 solo single.  This power ballad contains lyrics by Lemmy Kilmister, the front man from Motorhead.  The song is about his wife Sharon, who helped turn his life around.DesireA crunchy deep cut talks about going for what you want - not changing over time, seeking the same desire.  Osbourne also makes a reference to "Crazy train," his hit from the early 80's.  "It's the same old desire, nothing's changed, nothing's the same.  Burning like fire, don't you ever take my name in vain."Road to NowhereThe last song on the album is a reflection on life.  Osbourne had gone sober after 20 years of drugs and alcohol, and he looking at how "the road to nowhere leads to me."  "I was looking back on my life and all the things I've done to me." No More TearsThis very dark title track has an epic feel, and despite its length hit number 5 on the US Mainstream Rock Tracks chart, number 71 on the Billboard Hot 100, and number 32 on the UK Singles chart.  The lyrics are told from the perspective of a stalker in a red light district seeking a victim to torture.    ENTERTAINMENT TRACK:Wayne's World by Aerosmith (from the Saturday Night Live skit “Wayne's World”)This skit finds Wayne (Mike Myers) and Garth (Dana Carvey) partying in their basement with the band Aerosmith. STAFF PICKS:Tough It Out by Webb WilderWayne starts out the staff picks with a deep cut.  Webb Wilder was born John Webb McMurry in Mississippi, and carries a high energy combination of rock, psychedelic, blues, and rockabilly genres in this song that encourages the listener to keep fighting for dreams even when the odds seem stacked against their fruition.  Alive by Pearl JamLynch brings us a song which evolved from songwriter and front man Eddie Vedder's original intention.  Vedder reflects on the feelings of a boy discovering that he was a stepchild.  While the lyrics were intended as reflecting the curse of an emotional weight from family history, fans interpreted it as an affirmation of life.I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie RaittBruce takes the energy way down with this soft hit off Raitt's eleventh studio album, "Luck of the Draw."  Bruce Hornsby provides the piano accompaniment.  Nashville writers Mike Reid and Allen Shamblin wrote the song after hearing about a drunk man being sentenced for shooting at his girlfriend's car.  When asked if he had learned anything, he said, "I learned, Your Honor, that you can't make a woman love you if she don't."Anybody Listening? by Queensryche Rob finishes the staff picks with a "prog metal" song off the "Empire" album that questions whether we really are communicating with people, and wondering if we are understood whether by word or deed.  It was an epic with multiple tempos, dynamics, and key changes that finished off the album. INSTRUMENTAL TRACK:Masquerade by YesWe close out with a surprisingly short song by the prog rock virtuosos off their "Union" album. Thanks for listening to “What the Riff?!?” NOTE: To adjust the loudness of the music or voices, you may adjust the balance on your device. VOICES are stronger in the LEFT channel, and MUSIC is stronger on the RIGHT channel.Please follow us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/whattheriffpodcast/, and message or email us with what you'd like to hear, what you think of the show, and any rock-worthy memes we can share.Of course we'd love for you to rate the show in your podcast platform!**NOTE: What the Riff?!? does not own the rights to any of these songs and we neither sell, nor profit from them. We share them so you can learn about them and purchase them for your own collections.

Episode Summary:In the 1930s when America was deep in the disaster of the Dust Bowl, Wisconsin professor and wildlife expert Aldo Leopold brought a new way of thinking about how people engage with nature. Studying the dynamics of soil erosion and people's behavior, he made suggestions for change that led him to the White House to meet the President.Leopold faced a personal crisis too, while writing his way toward a new understanding of our relationship with nature. When the Federal Writers' Project recruited him to write for the WPA Guide to Wisconsin, the picture he described in the guide's section on Conservation marked a path toward the modern environmental movement. In this episode, Leopold's biographer, Curt Meine, connects the dots to Earth Day and a new generation of environmentalists.Speakers:Curt Meine, biographerDouglas Brinkley, historianTim Hundt, journalistLinks and Resources: Aldo Leopold film on PBSGaylord Nelson announces the first Earth Day Human Powered Podcast, episode on The Driftless region Reading List: WPA Guide to WisconsinA Sand County Almanac by Aldo LeopoldAldo Leopold: His Life and Work by Curt MeineYou Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World, edited by Ada Limón Credits: Host: Chris HaleyDirector: Andrea KalinProducers: Andrea Kalin, David A. Taylor, James MirabelloWriter: David A. TaylorEditor: Ethan OserStory Editor: Michael MayAdditional Voices: Tim Lorenz and Susanne DesoutterFeaturing music and archival from: Joseph VitarelliBradford EllisPond5Library of CongressNational Archives and Records AdministrationWisconsin HumanitiesAlso featuring the song “Wisconsin” performed by Madilyn Bailey. Written by Madilyn Bailey, Martijn Tienus, John Sinclair and Clifford Golio, and produced by Clifford Golio and Joseph Barba. Find the full song here and visit her Spotify artist page to hear more. For additional content, visit peoplesrecorder.info or follow us on social media: @peoplesrecorderProduced with support from:National Endowment for the HumanitiesWisconsin Humanities Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Send us a Text Message.Join the band as we delve into the world of poet, activist, and all-around counterculture icon John Sinclair! But we're not just discussing his past or impact on the legalization movement. We spotlight his lesser-known musical contribution tonight – his 1970 album, "The White Buffalo Prayer."Is it a hidden gem or a forgotten relic? Tune in to the Wednesday Night Podcast!website: actonmusicproject.comemail: music@actonmusicproject.comCraig's phone number: ‪(978) 310-1613‬

This interview with John Sinclair was recorded a few months before he passed away on April 4, 2024.  John was an icon of the counterculture movement. In the late 1960s, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison for marijuana possession, sparking protests and rallies like the John Sinclair Freedom Rally, which featured performances by John Lennon and Stevie Wonder, among others. After a high-profile legal battle that challenged and ultimately reformed harsh marijuana laws, Sinclair was released after two years in prison. Before and after his protested prison sentence, John was a renowned poet, writer, and political activist. He founded the White Panther Party in support of the Black Panthers, produced music festivals, managed the influential rock band MC5, and published and recorded prolifically, including John Sinclair: The Collected Poems and the music-in-verse collection Thelonious: a Book of Monk. ------ Thank you to the sponsors that fuel our podcast and our team: Squarespace https://squarespace.com/tetra ------ Lucy https://lucy.co/tetra ------ LMNT Electrolytes https://drinklmnt.com/tetra ------ House of Macadamias https://www.houseofmacadamias.com/tetra

Pat Thomas in conversation with David Eastaugh https://allenginsberg.org/2023/11/w-n-29-2/ https://www.amazon.co.uk/Material-Wealth-Personal-Archive-Ginsberg/dp/1648230369 There are hundreds of thousands of items carefully stored and archived at Stanford University's Allen Ginsberg collection. Counterculture historian Pat Thomas, with the full cooperation of the Allen Ginsberg Estate's Peter Hale, has compiled and annotated a remarkable volume of material, unearthing in the process one astounding find after another. The result is a tome of previously unpublished historical paperwork and vintage graphics and photographs and ephemera that promises an unprecedented look inside one of the most prolific poets and agitators of cultural mores of the 20th century. A poster for Patti Smith's first-ever poetry reading. Correspondence from Allen's stint as literary agent for William S. Burroughs and Herbert Huncke. Yippie manifestos from Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, and John Sinclair of the MC5. A ticket for a 1974 concert by Bob Dylan & The Band (with Yoko Ono's phone number scribbled on the back). Posters documenting early Beat Generation readings in 1950s San Francisco as well as later ones capturing the 1960s Haight-Ashbury Hippie era. 

Dan Tatton and John Sinclair are the co-founders of Seven Movements. We talk about their innovative approach to making non-movers into movers.  Their platform aims to make fitness accessible to those who feel alienated by traditional fitness models through 'microdosing' movement, focusing on small, manageable exercises that can significantly enhance mobility, and long term health. Starting from personal training backgrounds, Dan and John developed Seven Movements to invite non-movers into the world of fitness by addressing common barriers and tailoring exercises to everyday activities and affinities, such as gardening. Their program, backed by research and adaptable to individual needs through an intuitive platform, represents a shift towards more inclusive and psychologically attuned fitness practices. The discussion also highlights opportunities for health and fitness professionals to join the movement as ambassadors, expanding the impact of micro-dosing movement to reach a wide audience, including those in senior living communities and various workplaces. Links for Seven Movements: www.sevenmovements.com  LinkedIn Instagram Connect with Second Act Fit Pros Second Act Fit Pros Newsletter Instagram Facebook Email: erin@secondactfitpros.com secondactfitpros.com

In this episode we welcome the splendid Steffan Chirazi to RBP Towers and ask him about his career as a metal/hard rock specialist and his long association with the mighty Metallica. We hear about our guest's lucky break as a 15-year-old Motörhead maniac when the band's frontman Lemmy gave up three hours to Steffan during the sessions for 1983's Another Perfect Day – and became a dear friend for life. Steffan then recounts how he got his foot in the door at Sounds and its enduring HM spinoff Kerrang!. The first of many interviews with Metallica led to Steffan moving to San Francisco, where the band's bassist Cliff Burton showed him around town – only to die, tragically, in a car crash just months later. Clips from Barney's 1996 audio interview with Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield prompt a conversation about our guest's close involvement with the thrashmeisters and his eventual stewardship of their in-house mag-turned-website So What! Following the metallic section of the episode we return to the older San Francisco of Haight-Ashbury and its '60s summer(s) of druggy love. Clips from Gene Sculatti and Davin Seay's 1984 audio interview with Jefferson Airplane/Hot Tuna bassist Jack Casady – about to turn 80 as we record this episode – give us the chance to ask Steffan about the days of the Grateful Dead and their many hirsute friends. From there we switch to the rather different environment that was late '60s Detroit, paying tribute to poet, political firebrand and MC5 manager John Sinclair. We circle back to Steffan's post-Kerrang! career and hear about his 1999 encounter with David Bowie before Jasper talks us out with his thoughts on newly-added library pieces about LL Cool J and Eels. Many thanks to special guest Steffan Chirazi. Find him on Patreon at patreon.com/steffyspurs and read the Metallica magazine So What! at metallica.com. Listen to the official Metallica podcast at https://metallica.lnk.to/TheMetallicaReport. Pieces discussed: Motörhead's Lemmy Kilmister: The Man Behind the Myth, Metallica: Thrash on Delivery, Metallica audio, Jefferson Airplane's Jack Casady audio, Portrait of the Artist: David Bowie, LL Cool J: Time Traveller and Eels: Shootenanny!.

VALUE FOR VALUE Thank you to the Bowl After Bowl Episode 311 Producers: harvhat, Oystein Berge, HeyCitizen, Bearsnare, Emily Ronna, seedubs, Sir Ryan Thomas, cottongin, CollinB, ChadF, jdencrypt, Boo-Bury, Dirty Jersey Whore, Bowlysteed, Pheonix, SircussMedia, Lavish Check out: Homegrown Hits ft. Emily Ronna, Podcasting 2.0 with Boo-Bury, Bowls With Buds ft. CollinB Join us FRIDAY for Bowls With Buds ft. Fletcher at 8 PM Central Intro/Outro: Floating Anarchy - Nostalgica ON CHAIN, OFF CHAIN, COCAINE, SHITSTAIN 1 million sat ring of fire, JOIN NOW: spencer@bowlafterbowl.com Zeus v.0.8.3: on-chain tx coin control for LND (No Bullshit Bitcoin) Bitcoin Halving clock Wavlake: BYO Lightning Address (WL Zine) TOP THREE 33 Over 33,000 have fled gangs' 13-day rampage through Haiti's capital (PBS) Joe Biden's 'secret' flights of 33,000 migrants to New York passes buck to city taxpayers (FOX) 33% of US millionaires are women: 5 hurdles keeping women from becoming millionaires (Yahoo Finance) lllinois traffic stop leads to 33-pound meth bust, three arrested (FOX) BEHIND THE CURTAIN Pot found in Rashee Rice's Lamborghini after Texas accident (NBC Sports) Department of Justice files brief asking court to dismiss lawsuit from pot businesses seeking to prevent federal enforcement against them (Marijuana Moment) Arkansas attorney general rejects laguage of proposed legalization ballot initiative (AR Democrat Gazette) Iowa lawmakers sent Gov. Kim Reynolds a bill to restrict consumable hemp products (IA Capital Dispatch) Maine lawmakers send Gov. Janet Mills a bill to loosen restrictive pot gummy labeling rules (WGME) Maryland lawmakers sent Gov. Wes Moore legislation to regulate kratom (MD Legislature) ...and also legislation to create a Task Force on Responsible Use of Natural Psychedelic Substances (MD Legislature) Massachusetts Gov. Maura Healey pardons all simple cannabis possession convictions (NBC) Michigan marijuana activist John Sinclair passed away (Associated Press) Feds seize state-licensed pot in New Mexico (KRQE) Judge strikes down New York's marketing, advertising regulations (Syracuse) METAL MOMENT Tonight, the Rev CyberTrucker brings us Andre Antunes and Shan Padman's cover of Sanson Ki Mala Pe.  99% of sats from boosts during this chapter go straight to the Rev and 1% stays with the Bowl to credit YOU as a producer! Follow the Rev's shenanigans on the Fediverse FIRST TIME I EVER... Bowlers called in to tell us about the First Time THEY Ever pulled out. Call in next week to tell us about the First Time You Ever had an encounter with a snake. Call/Text: (816) 607-3663 FUCK IT, DUDE. LET'S GO BOWLING! Burning laptop burns student during MCAS (CBS) A new declaration in Mexico gives 19 cats roaming the presidential palace food and care fur-ever (AP) Texas mom gets warrant issued for her arrest over late library books (FOX) Mountain goat stuck under Kansas City bridge survives rocky rescue (AP) Garage-found grenades turned over to police turn out to be live (UPI) Gray wolves hadn't been since in south Michigan since the 1900s but this winter, a local hunter shot one (AP) California dog missing since the summer found in Michigan (AP) Thief disguised as trash bag steals package (FOX) Florida woman finds alligator in home (WESH) 100 huskies escape dog cafe and run through Chinese mall (UPI)

Host Saeed Khan talks with attorneys Bill Seikaly and Joel Sklar, Beverly Watts, president of BME Consulting and former director of Wayne County Public Services Department, community and labor activist Barb Ingalls, veteran journalist Nancy Derringer and Deadline Detroit co-founder Allan Lengel.They talk about: Is it time for a judge to put Trump in jail for violating gag rule? Florida Supreme Court Okays six-week abortion ban, but allows voters final say in November; The truth About Truth Social: big valuation; Israeli strikes kill food aid relief workers; Michigan to lift nation's only ban on paid surrogacy agreements;  Israeli parliament seeks to shut down Al Jazeera reporting in Israel;  Saying goodbye to John Sinclair: Schmuck of the Week.

A self-driving shuttle is coming to downtown Detroit this summer. What do we think? That and more on today's episode. Producer Shianne is in the studio and we round up five stories to talk about in Metro Detroit.  The rundown: 03:09 - Bedrock, City of Detroit, Michigan Central are teaming up on a 10 mile self driving loop shuttle from Corktown through the Central Business District to the east riverfront of Detroit. 07:13 - University of Michigan Medical isconverting former K-Mart headquarters site into a medical center in Troy 09:20 - John Sinclair passed away at the age of 82 on Tuesday 11:53 - The sales of E-Cigarettes and flavored tobacco could be heavily curbed 15:15 - Another DTE rate hike? The Attorney General (and lots of people) aren't happy.  As always, you can find Daily Detroit on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you download your favorite podcasts. Thanks to our members on Patreon. Local coverage requires local support: http://www.patreon.com/dailydetroit  

Longtime cannabis activist and musician John Sinclair passed away this week at 82. Sinclair was the catalyst for the modern marijuana movement not only in Michigan but across the country. On a new Daily J, WWJ's Zach Clark digs through the dense legacy Sinclair leaves behind. (PHOTO: Junfu Han/ USA Today Network)

John Sinclair in his own words: Talking the MC5, Detroit rock scene, radical politics, more New 154-unit project in Midtown Detroit would honor developer and landlord Joel Landy I tested one of GM's first highway EV fast-chargers. Here's how it went.

The Federal Emergency Management Agency and the U.S. Small Business Administration will open a Disaster Recovery Center in Detroit on Thursday for victims of last August's severe storms. Plus, Detroit activist, poet and writer John Sinclair died on Tuesday at the age of 82.

April 3, 2024 ~ If there was a godfather to legalize pot in Michigan, it would be John Sinclair. The long-time champion of legalizing marijuana, activist, poet, and writer has died at the age of 82. WJR Senior News Analyst Marie Osborne talks with Guy, Lloyd, and Jamie with a remembrance of his unique life. Photo: Junfu Han ~ USA Today Network

AP correspondent Margie Szaroleta reports on the death of counterculture figure John Sinclair.

In this episode, Jenny and John chat with John Sinclair, an esteemed author, educator, international presenter, and one of the founders of Seven Movements. Sinclair offers insights into their mission of enhancing accessibility to exercise. He introduces the innovative concept of "micro-dosing" movements, revolutionizing the approach to physical activity. Lastly, Sinclair generously imparts invaluable advice to trainers seeking success within the competitive fitness industry landscape.

In this enlightening episode, I have a chat with my old friend and colleague, John Sinclair about one of the most powerful, yet under appreciated aspects of success and fulfillment, movement.  John is a renowned expert in movement as medicine, leveraging his diverse background as an educator, coach, athletic trainer, medical exercise specialist, and applied functional scientist to create unique health and performance programs. He has worked globally as a consultant for professional sports teams, governments, and companies like ViPR Pro, Zumba, and Nike, and served as a Health and Performance consultant for the California State Guard. As a sought-after expert in the health and fitness industries, John directs programming at The Institute of Motion and has developed comprehensive personal training and performance specialist certifications. Residing in Sunrise, Florida, with his wife and labradoodle, he enjoys golf, tennis, weightlifting, and various other fitness activities in his personal training studio.Our discussion unfolds the layers of today's fitness landscape, marked by the paradox of being increasingly time-poor and stressed, yet flooded with conflicting information about the "right" paths to health.We explore the intriguing concept of micro-dosing movement, a revolutionary application designed for those struggling with consistent exercise routines. This method, akin to programming for a sport, aims to prepare individuals for their daily activities through small, manageable doses of movement, leading to significant health outcomes. This approach is beautifully encapsulated in the book “7 Movements to Keep You Healthy and Pain-Free in the Office,” by Dan Tatton and John Sinclair, which emphasizes the power of micro movements in supporting overall health.Our conversation delves into the challenges many face in starting their fitness journey, overwhelmed by where to begin. We discuss strategies and tools developed in collaboration with esteemed researchers like Dr. Martin Gibala, author of “The One-Minute Workout,” and Dr. Jonathan Little, highlighting the tailored needs of individuals with conditions such as Parkinson's, Type 2 diabetes, and cancer. Remarkably, adherence to micro-dosing movement boasts a 94 percent success rate, underscoring the transformative impact of engaging in small, enjoyable doses of activity.We unravel the psychology behind exercise adherence, emphasizing the role of successful participation in boosting confidence and shaping identity. This episode challenges conventional wisdom about motivation, accountability, and the physiological expectations from exercise, advocating for a personalized approach to fitness that recognizes the uniqueness of each individual.The conversation shifts to the importance of getting started, the influence of expectations on long-term motivation, and the significance of aligning exercise with personal values and visions for the future. We highlight the critical relationship between efficacy and behavior, and the role of sensory input in enhancing motor control and engagement in cherished activities.Forbes magazine, in their audit of the model, rated the programming on micro-dosing movement with the highest acclaim. This episode is not just about the mechanics of movement but the profound impact of purposeful activity on our lives.Join us as we connect John and explore the wealth of resources available at www.sevenmovements.com, embarking on a journey to redefine what it means to live a healthy, engaged life through the lens of micro-dosing movement.  Visit us at:www.theselfhelpantidote.com

00:00 A tréningnadrágok újabb dicsérete. Az NBA-mackóalsó. 02:49 Wayne Kramer emlékére: Kick out the Jams. Sonic's Rendezvous Band: City Slang. Detroit popkulturális jelentősége. Berry Gordy és a Motown. A Belleville Three, akik feltalálták a technót. 08:06 Egy jó interjú Wayne Kramerrel. Az 1968-as chicagói balhé. Detroit 1967 nyarán. Az még ellenkultúra volt! John Sinclair lecsukása és kiszabadítása. Kinek volt jó John Delorean csőbe húzása? 11:35 Borízű káromkodások a nyelvtanórán. A Számítástechnika magazin szerepe a nyelvújításban. Uj Péter és a kisbetűs internet. Földes András és a romkocsma. 15:15 Továvbbi celebek a budaörsi uszodában. Sztárúszás Csepi Lajossal és Milák Kristóffal. A régi jó színész-újságíró rangadók. 19:32 Mégis vannak magyar vendéglátóláncok. A pozsonyi Pad Thai és a több tucat Café Frei. 21:18 Taste of Canton. Rice roll, retektorta, cha siu bao. Csepregi Éva: A sárkány éve. 26:48 A budapesti ázsiai éttermek és alternatív szórakozóhelyek színvonalának drámai emelkedése. Bangkok étterem a Só utcában. 30:46 Uj Péter és Orbán Viktor se veled-se nélküled kapcsolata. A Financial Times cikke. 35:06 A trollkodás két célja és Orbán leegyszerűsített politikai filozófiája. 39:10 Felmosták vele a padlót vagy nem mosták fel? Jön a hulláma vagy nem jön a hulláma? Amikor Macron elkápráztatta Trumpot egy díszszemlével. A republikánus izolacionizmus veszélyei. Savas esőre emlékszel? 45:56 Toxic Holocuaston voltál? Amikor Tom Angelripper kiszállt pisilni. A Municipal Waste elvicceli. Kikacsint a Manowar? Death to false metal!!!!!!!!!! Sign of the Hammer. 51:36 Mennyivel lesz jobb a zenéd egy templom felgyújtásától? Gaahl és a homoszexualitás a black metalban. Mikor válik paródiává egy ifjúsági szubkultúra? 53:53 Hogy kell polkorrektül mondani az akkumulátorfeldolgozót? A tádzsik labdarúgás röneszánsza Petar Segrt horvát szövetségi kapitánnyal. Szemcseszórás a BMW-gyár mellett. 56:56 A mancsoló macska a fürdőszobában. Tanítsd meg lehúzni a klotyót! Macska és motoroskesztyű. 60:48 158 adás után lett egy emailcímünk.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Rate the show 5 Stars! Leave a review to have it read on the next episode! Watching on Youtube? Leave a comment and click the thumbs up to like the video!Crunk talks with each club from the Top 8 at the time. Discussing the first few months of the season.Questions asked are: How do you feel about your club's position in the PL table?Who is the team's MVP (Most Valuable Player)?Which player's form has been lackluster?Thoughts on the manager?Any winter transfer rumors?Thoughts on how the 2nd half of the season will go?You can purchase your ticket to SoB's 1st event ever! Live & LIT: Chicago on April 20th, 2024. Come join us for multiple events! 3 course breakfast, Manchester City vs Tottenham Watch Party, and more! Can even pre order merch that is available for delivery if you can't make it to ChicagoTap here: https://givebutter.com/mkWN0hSupport the showClick Link to SOB Social Media accounts and Merch Store!https://linktr.ee/shadesofbluepodcast

This week, I'm speaking with Wayne Kramer. When it comes to lives, Wayne has lived several. As the founder of seminal rock band MC5, he began his musical career at just 16 years old. By 1967, the MC5 were serving as the house band at the Grande Ballroom and Wayne was working full time. As racial tensions reached a fever pitch around the the country and in his hometown of Detroit, he crossed paths with poet and activist John Sinclair who shared his revolutionary fervor and would become a mentor throughout his life.Shortly after the MC5 imploded, Wayne found himself in federal prison, which he documents at length in his book, The Hard Stuff: Dope, Crime, the MC5, and My Life of Impossibilities. After serving 2 1/2 years of a 4 year sentence, Wayne headed to New York City where he remained for a decade, playing music, continuing to use drugs, and living what he describes as the same year, ten times.In the mid nineties, Wayne began a new life in Los Angeles, where he signed a recording contract and began touring only to see his efforts come crashing down as a result of what he calls, ‘an inside job'. Tired of carrying on the facade of sobriety, Wayne turned to Bob Timmons to help him take the steps toward a better life. Now 24 years sober, Wayne discusses how talent isn't enough, why he thinks NWA picked up where MC5 left off, and his work with the C.A.P.O. Center and the non-profit Jail Guitar Doors, named after The Clash song he helped inspire.Please enjoy Wayne Kramer on The Days Between..

This week we welcome Nick Johnson and John Sinclair from The Vitae Foundation to play the AFS Gameshow, X's and Oh's! Questions surrounding independent senators, Hawaii wildfires, and news of the week!

The final hour of today's show begins with a game of Xs and Ohs! This week Nick Johnson and John Sinclair from The Vitae Foundation face off. Then, Annie surprises Brad with a special birthday message. The poll ends the show!

  FreeWorld is an independent, regionally touring, ever-evolving, Memphis-based musical ensemble who celebrated their 30th Anniversary in 2017. Drawing from influences as diverse as Booker T. & the M.G.s, John Coltrane, Frank Zappa, The Grateful Dead, Steely Dan, and The Meters, these brothers under one multicultural groove have remained a consistently entertaining and informed voice on the Memphis music scene since the group's inception. Rich Cushing is the leader of the band. He's also degreed Medical Technologist in Memphis making him a highly educated bass player/lead vocalist. FreeWorld has been a Memphis fixture from the get-go playing their music on Beale Street for many years. Rich and the band are intent on passing it forward, too by bringing young players on stage! Rich describes part of FreeWorld as a "school." FreeWorld was honored to receive a Brass Note on the Beale Street Walk of Fame in 2012, and they've also had the honor and privilege of sharing the stage with a wide variety of musical legends over the years, including Levon Helm, The Memphis Horns, Billy Preston, Bootsy Collins, Richie Havens, Blues Traveler, Widespread Panic, Derek Trucks, Hot Tuna, Los Lobos, Merl Saunders, Dr. John, Timothy Leary, John Sinclair, The Bar-Kays, Ann Peebles, Steve Cropper, James Cotton, Mojo Buford, Jimmie Vaughan & Double Trouble, Susan Tedeschi, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, & Jonny Lang just to name a few.   Band members refer to themselves as an onstage freak show, but the only thing freaky about them is their talent. Be sure to check 'em out the next time you venture up the road a bit to Memphis. FreeWorld is just one of the many cool experiences outside Hot Springs Village. Thanks to our exclusive media partner, KVRE • Join Our Free Email Newsletter • Subscribe To The Podcast Anyway You Want • Subscribe To Our YouTube Channel (click that bell icon, too) • Join Our Facebook Group • Tell Your Friends About Our Show • Support Our Sponsors (click on the images below to visit their websites) __________________________________________

In this week's episode, we have an exciting interview with George, the creator and host of the renowned old-school cannabis podcast, Dopefiend. Join us as we delve into the world of Dopefiend, exploring George's experiences and insights. We'll discover fascinating details about his vape company, "Vapefiend," and his remarkable interviews with legends like Howard Marks and John Sinclair. Additionally, we'll dive into the captivating realm of psychedelics, sharing stories of memorable trips from our past. Get ready for a laid-back conversation with a new friend. Sit back, relax, and enjoy this episode. And of course, don't forget to roll a fat one and elevate your experience to new heights! If you have any suggestions for guest to be on our cannabis podcast then please feel free to contact us on our website, Discord server, or any of your favourite social networks. Visit our website for links.  Website: https://highonhomegrown.com Discord: https://discord.gg/sqYGkF4xyQ Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/highonhomegrown Thank you for downloading and listening to our cannabis podcast! I hope you have enjoyed this episode. 

MC5 embodied revolution in a way most bands only pay lip service to. The Detroit cops sent riot squads and even a tank to break up their shows, and even raided their house. They were the only band to play at the infamous protest outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Their radical manager, John Sinclair, wrote manifestos allying with the Black Panthers and declaring rock ‘n' roll THE vehicle for revolution. But by the 1970s, all that idealism curdled into the classic story of broken record deals, drugs, crime, and jail, with redemption only possible through personal, not political, revolution. To view the full list of contributors, see the show notes at www.disgracelandpod.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Iggy Pop is one of the most outrageous rock ‘n roll frontmen to ever step foot on stage. As the lead singer of The Stooges, Iggy was known for bending and contorting his sometimes-bloodied body while feverishly pacing the stage like a wild animal. Iggy's 50-year career has been as tumultuous as his performance style. When The Stooges first broke up in the mid-70s, Iggy went solo and recorded a series of albums, some instant classics, others more experimental. At 75 years-old he's just released his newest album, Every Loser. On today's episode Iggy shares incredible stories with Rick Rubin about his career. Their conversation was so great that we decided to split it into two consecutive episodes. Today we'll hear Iggy reminisce about recording Fun House in Los Angeles, and the first time he saw the ocean. Iggy also talks about the tight-knit rock scene in Detroit and how it was in some ways led by a local writer, activist and music manager named John Sinclair. Also, stay put at the end of this episode to hear a song off of Iggy's new album. You can hear a playlist of some of our favorite Stooges and Iggy Pop solo songs HERE.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Episode one hundred and fifty-six of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “I Was Made to Love Her", the early career of Stevie Wonder, and the Detroit riots of 1967. 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 "Groovin'" by the Young Rascals. 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 put together a Mixcloud playlist of all the recordings excerpted in this episode. The best value way to get all of Stevie Wonder's early singles is this MP3 collection, which has the original mono single mixes of fifty-five tracks for a very reasonable price. For those who prefer physical media, this is a decent single-CD collection of his early work at a very low price indeed. As well as the general Motown information listed below, I've also referred to Signed, Sealed, and Delivered: The Soulful Journey of Stevie Wonder by Mark Ribowsky, which rather astonishingly is the only full-length biography of Wonder, to Higher Ground: Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, Curtis Mayfield, and the Rise and Fall of American Soul by Craig Werner, and to Detroit 67: The Year That Changed Soul by Stuart Cosgrove. For Motown-related information in this and other Motown episodes, I've used the following resources: Where Did Our Love Go? The Rise and Fall of the Motown Sound by Nelson George is an excellent popular history of the various companies that became Motown. To Be Loved by Berry Gordy is Gordy's own, understandably one-sided, but relatively well-written, autobiography. Women of Motown: An Oral History by Susan Whitall is a collection of interviews with women involved in Motown. I Hear a Symphony: Motown and Crossover R&B by J. Andrew Flory is an academic look at Motown. The Motown Encyclopaedia by Graham Betts is an exhaustive look at the people and records involved in Motown's thirty-year history. How Sweet It Is by Lamont Dozier and Scott B. Bomar is Dozier's autobiography, while Come and Get These Memories by Brian and Eddie Holland and Dave Thompson is the Holland brothers'. Standing in the Shadows of Motown: The Life and Music of Legendary Bassist James Jamerson by "Dr Licks" is a mixture of a short biography of the great bass player, and tablature of his most impressive bass parts. And Motown Junkies is an infrequently-updated blog looking at (so far) the first 694 tracks released on Motown singles. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript A quick note before I begin -- this episode deals with disability and racism, and also deals from the very beginning with sex work and domestic violence. It also has some discussion of police violence and sexual assault. As always I will try to deal with those subjects as non-judgementally and sensitively as possible, but if you worry that anything about those subjects might disturb you, please check the transcript. Calvin Judkins was not a good man. Lula Mae Hardaway thought at first he might be, when he took her in, with her infant son whose father had left before the boy was born. He was someone who seemed, when he played the piano, to be deeply sensitive and emotional, and he even did the decent thing and married her when he got her pregnant. She thought she could save him, even though he was a street hustler and not even very good at it, and thirty years older than her -- she was only nineteen, he was nearly fifty. But she soon discovered that he wasn't interested in being saved, and instead he was interested in hurting her. He became physically and financially abusive, and started pimping her out. Lula would eventually realise that Calvin Judkins was no good, but not until she got pregnant again, shortly after the birth of her second son. Her third son was born premature -- different sources give different numbers for how premature, with some saying four months and others six weeks -- and while he apparently went by Stevland Judkins throughout his early childhood, the name on his birth certificate was apparently Stevland Morris, Lula having decided not to give another child the surname of her abuser, though nobody has ever properly explained where she got the surname "Morris" from. Little Stevland was put in an incubator with an oxygen mask, which saved the tiny child's life but destroyed his sight, giving him a condition called retinopathy of prematurity -- a condition which nowadays can be prevented and cured, but in 1951 was just an unavoidable consequence for some portion of premature babies. Shortly after the family moved from Saginaw to Detroit, Lula kicked Calvin out, and he would remain only a peripheral figure in his children's lives, but one thing he did do was notice young Stevland's interest in music, and on his increasingly infrequent visits to his wife and kids -- visits that usually ended with violence -- he would bring along toy instruments for the young child to play, like a harmonica and a set of bongos. Stevie was a real prodigy, and by the time he was nine he had a collection of real musical instruments, because everyone could see that the kid was something special. A neighbour who owned a piano gave it to Stevie when she moved out and couldn't take it with her. A local Lions Club gave him a drum kit at a party they organised for local blind children, and a barber gave him a chromatic harmonica after seeing him play his toy one. Stevie gave his first professional performance when he was eight. His mother had taken him to a picnic in the park, and there was a band playing, and the little boy got as close to the stage as he could and started dancing wildly. The MC of the show asked the child who he was, and he said "My name is Stevie, and I can sing and play drums", so of course they got the cute kid up on stage behind the drum kit while the band played Johnny Ace's "Pledging My Love": [Excerpt: Johnny Ace, "Pledging My Love"] He did well enough that they paid him seventy-five cents -- an enormous amount for a small child at that time -- though he was disappointed afterwards that they hadn't played something faster that would really allow him to show off his drumming skills. After that he would perform semi-regularly at small events, and always ask to be paid in quarters rather than paper money, because he liked the sound of the coins -- one of his party tricks was to be able to tell one coin from another by the sound of them hitting a table. Soon he formed a duo with a neighbourhood friend, John Glover, who was a couple of years older and could play guitar while Stevie sang and played harmonica and bongos. The two were friends, and both accomplished musicians for their age, but that wasn't the only reason Stevie latched on to Glover. Even as young as he was, he knew that Motown was soon going to be the place to be in Detroit if you were a musician, and Glover had an in -- his cousin was Ronnie White of the Miracles. Stevie and John performed as a duo everywhere they could and honed their act, performing particularly at the talent shows which were such an incubator of Black musical talent at the time, and they also at this point seem to have got the attention of Clarence Paul, but it was White who brought the duo to Motown. Stevie and John first played for White and Bobby Rodgers, another of the Miracles, then when they were impressed they took them through the several layers of Motown people who would have to sign off on signing a new act. First they were taken to see Brian Holland, who was a rising star within Motown as "Please Mr. Postman" was just entering the charts. They impressed him with a performance of the Miracles song "Bad Girl": [Excerpt: The Miracles, "Bad Girl"] After that, Stevie and John went to see Mickey Stevenson, who was at first sceptical, thinking that a kid so young -- Stevie was only eleven at the time -- must be some kind of novelty act rather than a serious musician. He said later "It was like, what's next, the singing mouse?" But Stevenson was won over by the child's talent. Normally, Stevenson had the power to sign whoever he liked to the label, but given the extra legal complications involved in signing someone under-age, he had to get Berry Gordy's permission. Gordy didn't even like signing teenagers because of all the extra paperwork that would be involved, and he certainly wasn't interested in signing pre-teens. But he came down to the studio to see what Stevie could do, and was amazed, not by his singing -- Gordy didn't think much of that -- but by his instrumental ability. First Stevie played harmonica and bongos as proficiently as an adult professional, and then he made his way around the studio playing on every other instrument in the place -- often only a few notes, but competent on them all. Gordy decided to sign the duo -- and the initial contract was for an act named "Steve and John" -- but it was soon decided to separate them. Glover would be allowed to hang around Motown while he was finishing school, and there would be a place for him when he finished -- he later became a staff songwriter, working on tracks for the Four Tops and the Miracles among others, and he would even later write a number one hit, "You Don't Have to be a Star (to be in My Show)" for Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr -- but they were going to make Stevie a star right now. The man put in charge of that was Clarence Paul. Paul, under his birth name of Clarence Pauling, had started his career in the "5" Royales, a vocal group he formed with his brother Lowman Pauling that had been signed to Apollo Records by Ralph Bass, and later to King Records. Paul seems to have been on at least some of the earliest recordings by the group, so is likely on their first single, "Give Me One More Chance": [Excerpt: The "5" Royales, "Give Me One More Chance"] But Paul was drafted to go and fight in the Korean War, and so wasn't part of the group's string of hit singles, mostly written by his brother Lowman, like "Think", which later became better known in James Brown's cover version, or "Dedicated to the One I Love", later covered by the Shirelles, but in its original version dominated by Lowman's stinging guitar playing: [Excerpt: The "5" Royales, "Dedicated to the One I Love"] After being discharged, Clarence had shortened his name to Clarence Paul, and had started recording for all the usual R&B labels like Roulette and Federal, with little success: [Excerpt: Clarence Paul, "I'm Gonna Love You, Love You Til I Die"] He'd also co-written "I Need Your Lovin'", which had been an R&B hit for Roy Hamilton: [Excerpt: Roy Hamilton, "I Need Your Lovin'"] Paul had recently come to work for Motown – one of the things Berry Gordy did to try to make his label more attractive was to hire the relatives of R&B stars on other labels, in the hopes of getting them to switch to Motown – and he was the new man on the team, not given any of the important work to do. He was working with acts like Henry Lumpkin and the Valladiers, and had also been the producer of "Mind Over Matter", the single the Temptations had released as The Pirates in a desperate attempt to get a hit: [Excerpt: The Pirates, "Mind Over Matter"] Paul was the person you turned to when no-one else was interested, and who would come up with bizarre ideas. A year or so after the time period we're talking about, it was him who produced an album of country music for the Supremes, before they'd had a hit, and came up with "The Man With the Rock and Roll Banjo Band" for them: [Excerpt: The Supremes, "The Man With The Rock and Roll Banjo Band"] So, Paul was the perfect person to give a child -- by this time twelve years old -- who had the triple novelties of being a multi-instrumentalist, a child, and blind. Stevie started spending all his time around the Motown studios, partly because he was eager to learn everything about making records and partly because his home life wasn't particularly great and he wanted to be somewhere else. He earned the affection and irritation, in equal measure, of people at Motown both for his habit of wandering into the middle of sessions because he couldn't see the light that showed that the studio was in use, and for his practical joking. He was a great mimic, and would do things like phoning one of the engineers and imitating Berry Gordy's voice, telling the engineer that Stevie would be coming down, and to give him studio equipment to take home. He'd also astonish women by complimenting them, in detail, on their dresses, having been told in advance what they looked like by an accomplice. But other "jokes" were less welcome -- he would regularly sexually assault women working at Motown, grabbing their breasts or buttocks and then claiming it was an accident because he couldn't see what he was doing. Most of the women he molested still speak of him fondly, and say everybody loved him, and this may even be the case -- and certainly I don't think any of us should be judged too harshly for what we did when we were twelve -- but this kind of thing led to a certain amount of pressure to make Stevie's career worth the extra effort he was causing everyone at Motown. Because Berry Gordy was not impressed with Stevie's vocals, the decision was made to promote him as a jazz instrumentalist, and so Clarence Paul insisted that his first release be an album, rather than doing what everyone would normally do and only put out an album after a hit single. Paul reasoned that there was no way on Earth they were going to be able to get a hit single with a jazz instrumental by a twelve-year-old kid, and eventually persuaded Gordy of the wisdom of this idea. So they started work on The Jazz Soul of Little Stevie, released under his new stagename of Little Stevie Wonder, supposedly a name given to him after Berry Gordy said "That kid's a wonder!", though Mickey Stevenson always said that the name came from a brainstorming session between him and Clarence Paul. The album featured Stevie on harmonica, piano, and organ on different tracks, but on the opening track, "Fingertips", he's playing the bongos that give the track its name: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Fingertips (studio version)"] The composition of that track is credited to Paul and the arranger Hank Cosby, but Beans Bowles, who played flute on the track, always claimed that he came up with the melody, and it seems quite likely to me that most of the tracks on the album were created more or less as jam sessions -- though Wonder's contributions were all overdubbed later. The album sat in the can for several months -- Berry Gordy was not at all sure of its commercial potential. Instead, he told Paul to go in another direction -- focusing on Wonder's blindness, he decided that what they needed to do was create an association in listeners' minds with Ray Charles, who at this point was at the peak of his commercial power. So back into the studio went Wonder and Paul, to record an album made up almost entirely of Ray Charles covers, titled Tribute to Uncle Ray. (Some sources have the Ray Charles tribute album recorded first -- and given Motown's lax record-keeping at this time it may be impossible to know for sure -- but this is the way round that Mark Ribowsky's biography of Wonder has it). But at Motown's regular quality control meeting it was decided that there wasn't a single on the album, and you didn't release an album like that without having a hit single first. By this point, Clarence Paul was convinced that Berry Gordy was just looking for excuses not to do anything with Wonder -- and there may have been a grain of truth to that. There's some evidence that Gordy was worried that the kid wouldn't be able to sing once his voice broke, and was scared of having another Frankie Lymon on his hands. But the decision was made that rather than put out either of those albums, they would put out a single. The A-side was a song called "I Call it Pretty Music But the Old People Call it the Blues, Part 1", which very much played on Wonder's image as a loveable naive kid: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "I Call it Pretty Music But the Old People Call it the Blues, Part 1"] The B-side, meanwhile, was part two -- a slowed-down, near instrumental, version of the song, reframed as an actual blues, and as a showcase for Wonder's harmonica playing rather than his vocals. The single wasn't a hit, but it made number 101 on the Billboard charts, just missing the Hot One Hundred, which for the debut single of a new artist wasn't too bad, especially for Motown at this point in time, when most of its releases were flopping. That was good enough that Gordy authorised the release of the two albums that they had in the can. The next single, "Little Water Boy", was a rather baffling duet with Clarence Paul, which did nothing at all on the charts. [Excerpt: Clarence Paul and Little Stevie Wonder, "Little Water Boy"] After this came another flop single, written by Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier, and Janie Bradford, before the record that finally broke Little Stevie Wonder out into the mainstream in a big way. While Wonder hadn't had a hit yet, he was sent out on the first Motortown Revue tour, along with almost every other act on the label. Because he hadn't had a hit, he was supposed to only play one song per show, but nobody had told him how long that song should be. He had quickly become a great live performer, and the audiences were excited to watch him, so when he went into extended harmonica solos rather than quickly finishing the song, the audience would be with him. Clarence Paul, who came along on the tour, would have to motion to the onstage bandleader to stop the music, but the bandleader would know that the audiences were with Stevie, and so would just keep the song going as long as Stevie was playing. Often Paul would have to go on to the stage and shout in Wonder's ear to stop playing -- and often Wonder would ignore him, and have to be physically dragged off stage by Paul, still playing, causing the audience to boo Paul for stopping him from playing. Wonder would complain off-stage that the audience had been enjoying it, and didn't seem to get it into his head that he wasn't the star of the show, that the audiences *were* enjoying him, but were *there* to see the Miracles and Mary Wells and the Marvelettes and Marvin Gaye. This made all the acts who had to go on after him, and who were running late as a result, furious at him -- especially since one aspect of Wonder's blindness was that his circadian rhythms weren't regulated by sunlight in the same way that the sighted members of the tour's were. He would often wake up the entire tour bus by playing his harmonica at two or three in the morning, while they were all trying to sleep. Soon Berry Gordy insisted that Clarence Paul be on stage with Wonder throughout his performance, ready to drag him off stage, so that he wouldn't have to come out onto the stage to do it. But one of the first times he had done this had been on one of the very first Motortown Revue shows, before any of his records had come out. There he'd done a performance of "Fingertips", playing the flute part on harmonica rather than only playing bongos throughout as he had on the studio version -- leaving the percussion to Marvin Gaye, who was playing drums for Wonder's set: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Fingertips (Parts 1 & 2)"] But he'd extended the song with a little bit of call-and-response vocalising: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Fingertips (Parts 1 & 2)"] After the long performance ended, Clarence Paul dragged Wonder off-stage and the MC asked the audience to give him a round of applause -- but then Stevie came running back on and carried on playing: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Fingertips (Parts 1 & 2)"] By this point, though, the musicians had started to change over -- Mary Wells, who was on after Wonder, was using different musicians from his, and some of her players were already on stage. You can hear Joe Swift, who was playing bass for Wells, asking what key he was meant to be playing in: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Fingertips (Parts 1 & 2)"] Eventually, after six and a half minutes, they got Wonder off stage, but that performance became the two sides of Wonder's next single, with "Fingertips Part 2", the part with the ad lib singing and the false ending, rather than the instrumental part one, being labelled as the side the DJs should play. When it was released, the song started a slow climb up the charts, and by August 1963, three months after it came out, it was at number one -- only the second ever Motown number one, and the first ever live single to get there. Not only that, but Motown released a live album -- Recorded Live, the Twelve-Year-Old Genius (though as many people point out he was thirteen when it was released -- he was twelve when it was recorded though) and that made number one on the albums chart, becoming the first Motown album ever to do so. They followed up "Fingertips" with a similar sounding track, "Workout, Stevie, Workout", which made number thirty-three. After that, his albums -- though not yet his singles -- started to be released as by "Stevie Wonder" with no "Little" -- he'd had a bit of a growth spurt and his voice was breaking, and so marketing him as a child prodigy was not going to work much longer and they needed to transition him into a star with adult potential. In the Motown of 1963 that meant cutting an album of standards, because the belief at the time in Motown was that the future for their entertainers was doing show tunes at the Copacabana. But for some reason the audience who had wanted an R&B harmonica instrumental with call-and-response improvised gospel-influenced yelling was not in the mood for a thirteen year old singing "Put on a Happy Face" and "When You Wish Upon a Star", and especially not when the instrumental tracks were recorded in a key that suited him at age twelve but not thirteen, so he was clearly straining. "Fingertips" being a massive hit also meant Stevie was now near the top of the bill on the Motortown Revue when it went on its second tour. But this actually put him in a precarious position. When he had been down at the bottom of the bill and unknown, nobody expected anything from him, and he was following other minor acts, so when he was surprisingly good the audiences went wild. Now, near the top of the bill, he had to go on after Marvin Gaye, and he was not nearly so impressive in that context. The audiences were polite enough, but not in the raptures he was used to. Although Stevie could still beat Gaye in some circumstances. At Motown staff parties, Berry Gordy would always have a contest where he'd pit two artists against each other to see who could win the crowd over, something he thought instilled a fun and useful competitive spirit in his artists. They'd alternate songs, two songs each, and Gordy would decide on the winner based on audience response. For the 1963 Motown Christmas party, it was Stevie versus Marvin. Wonder went first, with "Workout, Stevie, Workout", and was apparently impressive, but then Gaye topped him with a version of "Hitch-Hike". So Stevie had to top that, and apparently did, with a hugely extended version of "I Call it Pretty Music", reworked in the Ray Charles style he'd used for "Fingertips". So Marvin Gaye had to top that with the final song of the contest, and he did, performing "Stubborn Kind of Fellow": [Excerpt: Marvin Gaye, "Stubborn Kind of Fellow"] And he was great. So great, it turned the crowd against him. They started booing, and someone in the audience shouted "Marvin, you should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of a little blind kid!" The crowd got so hostile Berry Gordy had to stop the performance and end the party early. He never had another contest like that again. There were other problems, as well. Wonder had been assigned a tutor, a young man named Ted Hull, who began to take serious control over his life. Hull was legally blind, so could teach Wonder using Braille, but unlike Wonder had some sight -- enough that he was even able to get a drivers' license and a co-pilot license for planes. Hull was put in loco parentis on most of Stevie's tours, and soon became basically inseparable from him, but this caused a lot of problems, not least because Hull was a conservative white man, while almost everyone else at Motown was Black, and Stevie was socially liberal and on the side of the civil rights and anti-Vietnam movements. Hull started to collaborate on songwriting with Wonder, which most people at Motown were OK with but which now seems like a serious conflict of interest, and he also started calling himself Stevie's "manager" -- which did *not* impress the people at Motown, who had their own conflict of interest because with Stevie, like with all their artists, they were his management company and agents as well as his record label and publishers. Motown grudgingly tolerated Hull, though, mostly because he was someone they could pass Lula Mae Hardaway to to deal with her complaints. Stevie's mother was not very impressed with the way that Motown were handling her son, and would make her opinion known to anyone who would listen. Hull and Hardaway did not get on at all, but he could be relied on to save the Gordy family members from having to deal with her. Wonder was sent over to Europe for Christmas 1963, to perform shows at the Paris Olympia and do some British media appearances. But both his mother and Hull had come along, and their clear dislike for each other was making him stressed. He started to get pains in his throat whenever he sang -- pains which everyone assumed were a stress reaction to the unhealthy atmosphere that happened whenever Hull and his mother were in the same room together, but which later turned out to be throat nodules that required surgery. Because of this, his singing was generally not up to standard, which meant he was moved to a less prominent place on the bill, which in turn led to his mother accusing the Gordy family of being against him and trying to stop him becoming a star. Wonder started to take her side and believe that Motown were conspiring against him, and at one point he even "accidentally" dropped a bottle of wine on Ted Hull's foot, breaking one of his toes, because he saw Hull as part of the enemy that was Motown. Before leaving for those shows, he had recorded the album he later considered the worst of his career. While he was now just plain Stevie on albums, he wasn't for his single releases, or in his first film appearance, where he was still Little Stevie Wonder. Berry Gordy was already trying to get a foot in the door in Hollywood -- by the end of the decade Motown would be moving from Detroit to LA -- and his first real connections there were with American International Pictures, the low-budget film-makers who have come up a lot in connection with the LA scene. AIP were the producers of the successful low-budget series of beach party films, which combined appearances by teen heartthrobs Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello in swimsuits with cameo appearances by old film stars fallen on hard times, and with musical performances by bands like the Bobby Fuller Four. There would be a couple of Motown connections to these films -- most notably, the Supremes would do the theme tune for Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine -- but Muscle Beach Party was to be the first. Most of the music for Muscle Beach Party was written by Brian Wilson, Roger Christian, and Gary Usher, as one might expect for a film about surfing, and was performed by Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, the film's major musical guests, with Annette, Frankie, and Donna Loren [pron Lorren] adding vocals, on songs like "Muscle Bustle": [Excerpt: Donna Loren with Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, "Muscle Bustle"] The film followed the formula in every way -- it also had a cameo appearance by Peter Lorre, his last film appearance before his death, and it featured Little Stevie Wonder playing one of the few songs not written by the surf and car writers, a piece of nothing called "Happy Street". Stevie also featured in the follow-up, Bikini Beach, which came out a little under four months later, again doing a single number, "Happy Feelin'". To cash in on his appearances in these films, and having tried releasing albums of Little Stevie as jazz multi-instrumentalist, Ray Charles tribute act, live soulman and Andy Williams-style crooner, they now decided to see if they could sell him as a surf singer. Or at least, as Motown's idea of a surf singer, which meant a lot of songs about the beach and the sea -- mostly old standards like "Red Sails in the Sunset" and "Ebb Tide" -- backed by rather schlocky Wrecking Crew arrangements. And this is as good a place as any to take on one of the bits of disinformation that goes around about Motown. I've addressed this before, but it's worth repeating here in slightly more detail. Carol Kaye, one of the go-to Wrecking Crew bass players, is a known credit thief, and claims to have played on hundreds of records she didn't -- claims which too many people take seriously because she is a genuine pioneer and was for a long time undercredited on many records she *did* play on. In particular, she claims to have played on almost all the classic Motown hits that James Jamerson of the Funk Brothers played on, like the title track for this episode, and she claims this despite evidence including notarised statements from everyone involved in the records, the release of session recordings that show producers talking to the Funk Brothers, and most importantly the evidence of the recordings themselves, which have all the characteristics of the Detroit studio and sound like the Funk Brothers playing, and have absolutely nothing in common, sonically, with the records the Wrecking Crew played on at Gold Star, Western, and other LA studios. The Wrecking Crew *did* play on a lot of Motown records, but with a handful of exceptions, mostly by Brenda Holloway, the records they played on were quickie knock-off album tracks and potboiler albums made to tie in with film or TV work -- soundtracks to TV specials the acts did, and that kind of thing. And in this case, the Wrecking Crew played on the entire Stevie at the Beach album, including the last single to be released as by "Little Stevie Wonder", "Castles in the Sand", which was arranged by Jack Nitzsche: [Excerpt: Little Stevie Wonder, "Castles in the Sand"] Apparently the idea of surfin' Stevie didn't catch on any more than that of swingin' Stevie had earlier. Indeed, throughout 1964 and 65 Motown seem to have had less than no idea what they were doing with Stevie Wonder, and he himself refers to all his recordings from this period as an embarrassment, saving particular scorn for the second single from Stevie at the Beach, "Hey Harmonica Man", possibly because that, unlike most of his other singles around this point, was a minor hit, reaching number twenty-nine on the charts. Motown were still pushing Wonder hard -- he even got an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show in May 1964, only the second Motown act to appear on it after the Marvelettes -- but Wonder was getting more and more unhappy with the decisions they were making. He loathed the Stevie at the Beach album -- the records he'd made earlier, while patchy and not things he'd chosen, were at least in some way related to his musical interests. He *did* love jazz, and he *did* love Ray Charles, and he *did* love old standards, and the records were made by his friend Clarence Paul and with the studio musicians he'd grown to know in Detroit. But Stevie at the Beach was something that was imposed on Clarence Paul from above, it was cut with unfamiliar musicians, Stevie thought the films he was appearing in were embarrassing, and he wasn't even having much commercial success, which was the whole point of these compromises. He started to get more rebellious against Paul in the studio, though many of these decisions weren't made by Paul, and he would complain to anyone who would listen that if he was just allowed to do the music he wanted to sing, the way he wanted to sing it, he would have more hits. But for nine months he did basically no singing other than that Ed Sullivan Show appearance -- he had to recover from the operation to remove the throat nodules. When he did return to the studio, the first single he cut remained unreleased, and while some stuff from the archives was released between the start of 1964 and March 1965, the first single he recorded and released after the throat nodules, "Kiss Me Baby", which came out in March, was a complete flop. That single was released to coincide with the first Motown tour of Europe, which we looked at in the episode on "Stop! In the Name of Love", and which was mostly set up to promote the Supremes, but which also featured Martha and the Vandellas, the Miracles, and the Temptations. Even though Stevie had not had a major hit in eighteen months by this point, he was still brought along on the tour, the only solo artist to be included -- at this point Gordy thought that solo artists looked outdated compared to vocal groups, in a world dominated by bands, and so other solo artists like Marvin Gaye weren't invited. This was a sign that Gordy was happier with Stevie than his recent lack of chart success might suggest. One of the main reasons that Gordy had been in two minds about him was that he'd had no idea if Wonder would still be able to sing well after his voice broke. But now, as he was about to turn fifteen, his adult voice had more or less stabilised, and Gordy knew that he was capable of having a long career, if they just gave him the proper material. But for now his job on the tour was to do his couple of hits, smile, and be on the lower rungs of the ladder. But even that was still a prominent place to be given the scaled-down nature of this bill compared to the Motortown Revues. While the tour was in England, for example, Dusty Springfield presented a TV special focusing on all the acts on the tour, and while the Supremes were the main stars, Stevie got to do two songs, and also took part in the finale, a version of "Mickey's Monkey" led by Smokey Robinson but with all the performers joining in, with Wonder getting a harmonica solo: [Excerpt: Smokey Robinson and the Motown acts, "Mickey's Monkey"] Sadly, there was one aspect of the trip to the UK that was extremely upsetting for Wonder. Almost all the media attention he got -- which was relatively little, as he wasn't a Supreme -- was about his blindness, and one reporter in particular convinced him that there was an operation he could have to restore his sight, but that Motown were preventing him from finding out about it in order to keep his gimmick going. He was devastated about this, and then further devastated when Ted Hull finally convinced him that it wasn't true, and that he'd been lied to. Meanwhile other newspapers were reporting that he *could* see, and that he was just feigning blindness to boost his record sales. After the tour, a live recording of Wonder singing the blues standard "High Heeled Sneakers" was released as a single, and barely made the R&B top thirty, and didn't hit the top forty on the pop charts. Stevie's initial contract with Motown was going to expire in the middle of 1966, so there was a year to get him back to a point where he was having the kind of hits that other Motown acts were regularly getting at this point. Otherwise, it looked like his career might end by the time he was sixteen. The B-side to "High Heeled Sneakers" was another duet with Clarence Paul, who dominates the vocal sound for much of it -- a version of Willie Nelson's country classic "Funny How Time Slips Away": [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder and Clarence Paul, "Funny How Time Slips Away"] There are a few of these duet records scattered through Wonder's early career -- we'll hear another one a little later -- and they're mostly dismissed as Paul trying to muscle his way into a revival of his own recording career as an artist, and there may be some truth in that. But they're also a natural extension of the way the two of them worked in the studio. Motown didn't have the facilities to give Wonder Braille lyric sheets, and Paul didn't trust him to be able to remember the lyrics, so often when they made a record, Paul would be just off-mic, reciting the lyrics to Wonder fractionally ahead of him singing them. So it was more or less natural that this dynamic would leak out onto records, but not everyone saw it that way. But at the same time, there has been some suggestion that Paul was among those manoeuvring to get rid of Wonder from Motown as soon as his contract was finished -- despite the fact that Wonder was the only act Paul had worked on any big hits for. Either way, Paul and Wonder were starting to chafe at working with each other in the studio, and while Paul remained his on-stage musical director, the opportunity to work on Wonder's singles for what would surely be his last few months at Motown was given to Hank Cosby and Sylvia Moy. Cosby was a saxophone player and staff songwriter who had been working with Wonder and Paul for years -- he'd co-written "Fingertips" and several other tracks -- while Moy was a staff songwriter who was working as an apprentice to Cosby. Basically, at this point, nobody else wanted the job of writing for Wonder, and as Moy was having no luck getting songs cut by any other artists and her career was looking about as dead as Wonder's, they started working together. Wonder was, at this point, full of musical ideas but with absolutely no discipline. He's said in interviews that at this point he was writing a hundred and fifty songs a month, but these were often not full songs -- they were fragments, hooks, or a single verse, or a few lines, which he would pass on to Moy, who would turn his ideas into structured songs that fit the Motown hit template, usually with the assistance of Cosby. Then Cosby would come up with an arrangement, and would co-produce with Mickey Stevenson. The first song they came up with in this manner was a sign of how Wonder was looking outside the world of Motown to the rock music that was starting to dominate the US charts -- but which was itself inspired by Motown music. We heard in the last episode on the Rolling Stones how "Nowhere to Run" by the Vandellas: [Excerpt: Martha and the Vandellas, "Nowhere to Run"] had inspired the Stones' "Satisfaction": [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction"] And Wonder in turn was inspired by "Satisfaction" to come up with his own song -- though again, much of the work making it into an actual finished song was done by Sylvia Moy. They took the four-on-the-floor beat and basic melody of "Satisfaction" and brought it back to Motown, where those things had originated -- though they hadn't originated with Stevie, and this was his first record to sound like a Motown record in the way we think of those things. As a sign of how, despite the way these stories are usually told, the histories of rock and soul were completely and complexly intertwined, that four-on-the-floor beat itself was a conscious attempt by Holland, Dozier, and Holland to appeal to white listeners -- on the grounds that while Black people generally clapped on the backbeat, white people didn't, and so having a four-on-the-floor beat wouldn't throw them off. So Cosby, Moy, and Wonder, in trying to come up with a "Satisfaction" soundalike were Black Motown writers trying to copy a white rock band trying to copy Black Motown writers trying to appeal to a white rock audience. Wonder came up with the basic chorus hook, which was based around a lot of current slang terms he was fond of: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "Uptight"] Then Moy, with some assistance from Cosby, filled it out into a full song. Lyrically, it was as close to social comment as Motown had come at this point -- Wonder was, like many of his peers in soul music, interested in the power of popular music to make political statements, and he would become a much more political artist in the next few years, but at this point it's still couched in the acceptable boy-meets-girl romantic love song that Motown specialised in. But in 1965 a story about a boy from the wrong side of the tracks dating a rich girl inevitably raised the idea that the boy and girl might be of different races -- a subject that was very, very, controversial in the mid-sixties. [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "Uptight"] "Uptight" made number three on the pop charts and number one on the R&B charts, and saved Stevie Wonder's career. And this is where, for all that I've criticised Motown in this episode, their strategy paid off. Mickey Stevenson talked a lot about how in the early sixties Motown didn't give up on artists -- if someone had potential but was not yet having hits or finding the right approach, they would keep putting out singles in a holding pattern, trying different things and seeing what would work, rather than toss them aside. It had already worked for the Temptations and the Supremes, and now it had worked for Stevie Wonder. He would be the last beneficiary of this policy -- soon things would change, and Motown would become increasingly focused on trying to get the maximum returns out of a small number of stars, rather than building careers for a range of artists -- but it paid off brilliantly for Wonder. "Uptight" was such a reinvention of Wonder's career, sound, and image that many of his fans consider it the real start of his career -- everything before it only counting as prologue. The follow-up, "Nothing's Too Good For My Baby", was an "Uptight" soundalike, and as with Motown soundalike follow-ups in general, it didn't do quite as well, but it still made the top twenty on the pop chart and got to number four on the R&B chart. Stevie Wonder was now safe at Motown, and so he was going to do something no other Motown act had ever done before -- he was going to record a protest song and release it as a single. For about a year he'd been ending his shows with a version of Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind", sung as a duet with Clarence Paul, who was still his on stage bandleader even though the two weren't working together in the studio as much. Wonder brought that into the studio, and recorded it with Paul back as the producer, and as his duet partner. Berry Gordy wasn't happy with the choice of single, but Wonder pushed, and Gordy knew that Wonder was on a winning streak and gave in, and so "Blowin' in the Wind" became Stevie Wonder's next single: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder and Clarence Paul, "Blowin' in the Wind"] "Blowin' in the Wind" made the top ten, and number one on the R&B charts, and convinced Gordy that there was some commercial potential in going after the socially aware market, and over the next few years Motown would start putting out more and more political records. Because Motown convention was to have the producer of a hit record produce the next hit for that artist, and keep doing so until they had a flop, Paul was given the opportunity to produce the next single. "A Place in the Sun" was another ambiguously socially-aware song, co-written by the only white writer on Motown staff, Ron Miller, who happened to live in the same building as Stevie's tutor-cum-manager Ted Hull. "A Place in the Sun" was a pleasant enough song, inspired by "A Change is Gonna Come", but with a more watered-down, generic, message of hope, but the record was lifted by Stevie's voice, and again made the top ten. This meant that Paul and Miller, and Miller's writing partner Bryan Mills, got to work on his next  two singles -- his 1966 Christmas song "Someday at Christmas", which made number twenty-four, and the ballad "Travellin' Man" which made thirty-two. The downward trajectory with Paul meant that Wonder was soon working with other producers again. Harvey Fuqua and Johnny Bristol cut another Miller and Mills song with him, "Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday": [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday"] But that was left in the can, as not good enough to release, and Stevie was soon back working with Cosby. The two of them had come up with an instrumental together in late 1966, but had not been able to come up with any words for it, so they played it for Smokey Robinson, who said their instrumental sounded like circus music, and wrote lyrics about a clown: [Excerpt: The Miracles, "The Tears of a Clown"] The Miracles cut that as album filler, but it was released three years later as a single and became the Miracles' only number one hit with Smokey Robinson as lead singer. So Wonder and Cosby definitely still had their commercial touch, even if their renewed collaboration with Moy, who they started working with again, took a while to find a hit. To start with, Wonder returned to the idea of taking inspiration from a hit by a white British group, as he had with "Uptight". This time it was the Beatles, and the track "Michelle", from the Rubber Soul album: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Michelle"] Wonder took the idea of a song with some French lyrics, and a melody with some similarities to the Beatles song, and came up with "My Cherie Amour", which Cosby and Moy finished off. [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "My Cherie Amour"] Gordy wouldn't allow that to be released, saying it was too close to "Michelle" and people would think it was a rip-off, and it stayed in the vaults for several years. Cosby also produced a version of a song Ron Miller had written with Orlando Murden, "For Once in My Life", which pretty much every other Motown act was recording versions of -- the Four Tops, the Temptations, Billy Eckstine, Martha and the Vandellas and Barbra McNair all cut versions of it in 1967, and Gordy wouldn't let Wonder's version be put out either. So they had to return to the drawing board. But in truth, Stevie Wonder was not the biggest thing worrying Berry Gordy at this point. He was dealing with problems in the Supremes, which we'll look at in a future episode -- they were about to get rid of Florence Ballard, and thus possibly destroy one of the biggest acts in the world, but Gordy thought that if they *didn't* get rid of her they would be destroying themselves even more certainly. Not only that, but Gordy was in the midst of a secret affair with Diana Ross, Holland, Dozier, and Holland were getting restless about their contracts, and his producers kept bringing him unlistenable garbage that would never be a hit. Like Norman Whitfield, insisting that this track he'd cut with Marvin Gaye, "I Heard it Through the Grapevine", should be a single. Gordy had put his foot down about that one too, just like he had about "My Cherie Amour", and wouldn't allow it to be released. Meanwhile, many of the smaller acts on the label were starting to feel like they were being ignored by Gordy, and had formed what amounted to a union, having regular meetings at Clarence Paul's house to discuss how they could pressure the label to put the same effort into their careers as into those of the big stars. And the Funk Brothers, the musicians who played on all of Motown's hits, were also getting restless -- they contributed to the arrangements, and they did more for the sound of the records than half the credited producers; why weren't they getting production credits and royalties? Harvey Fuqua had divorced Gordy's sister Gwen, and so became persona non grata at the label and was in the process of leaving Motown, and so was Mickey Stevenson, Gordy's second in command, because Gordy wouldn't give him any stock in the company. And Detroit itself was on edge. The crime rate in the city had started to go up, but even worse, the *perception* of crime was going up. The Detroit News had been running a campaign to whip up fear, which it called its Secret Witness campaign, and running constant headlines about rapes, murders, and muggings. These in turn had led to increased calls for more funds for the police, calls which inevitably contained a strong racial element and at least implicitly linked the perceived rise in crime to the ongoing Civil Rights movement. At this point the police in Detroit were ninety-three percent white, even though Detroit's population was over thirty percent Black. The Mayor and Police Commissioner were trying to bring in some modest reforms, but they weren't going anywhere near fast enough for the Black population who felt harassed and attacked by the police, but were still going too fast for the white people who were being whipped up into a state of terror about supposedly soft-on-crime policies, and for the police who felt under siege and betrayed by the politicians. And this wasn't the only problem affecting the city, and especially affecting Black people. Redlining and underfunded housing projects meant that the large Black population was being crammed into smaller and smaller spaces with fewer local amenities. A few Black people who were lucky enough to become rich -- many of them associated with Motown -- were able to move into majority-white areas, but that was just leading to white flight, and to an increase in racial tensions. The police were on edge after the murder of George Overman Jr, the son of a policeman, and though they arrested the killers that was just another sign that they weren't being shown enough respect. They started organising "blu flu"s -- the police weren't allowed to strike, so they'd claim en masse that they were off sick, as a protest against the supposed soft-on-crime administration. Meanwhile John Sinclair was organising "love-ins", gatherings of hippies at which new bands like the MC5 played, which were being invaded by gangs of bikers who were there to beat up the hippies. And the Detroit auto industry was on its knees -- working conditions had got bad enough that the mostly Black workforce organised a series of wildcat strikes. All in all, Detroit was looking less and less like somewhere that Berry Gordy wanted to stay, and the small LA subsidiary of Motown was rapidly becoming, in his head if nowhere else, the more important part of the company, and its future. He was starting to think that maybe he should leave all these ungrateful people behind in their dangerous city, and move the parts of the operation that actually mattered out to Hollywood. Stevie Wonder was, of course, one of the parts that mattered, but the pressure was on in 1967 to come up with a hit as big as his records from 1965 and early 66, before he'd been sidetracked down the ballad route. The song that was eventually released was one on which Stevie's mother, Lula Mae Hardaway, had a co-writing credit: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "I Was Made to Love Her"] "I Was Made to Love Her" was inspired by Wonder's first love, a girl from the same housing projects as him, and he talked about the song being special to him because it was true, saying it "kind of speaks of my first love to a girl named Angie, who was a very beautiful woman... Actually, she was my third girlfriend but my first love. I used to call Angie up and, like, we would talk and say, 'I love you, I love you,' and we'd talk and we'd both go to sleep on the phone. And this was like from Detroit to California, right? You know, mother said, 'Boy, what you doing - get off the phone!' Boy, I tell you, it was ridiculous." But while it was inspired by her, like with many of the songs from this period, much of the lyric came from Moy -- her mother grew up in Arkansas, and that's why the lyric started "I was born in Little Rock", as *her* inspiration came from stories told by her parents. But truth be told, the lyrics weren't particularly detailed or impressive, just a standard story of young love. Rather what mattered in the record was the music. The song was structured differently from many Motown records, including most of Wonder's earlier ones. Most Motown records had a huge amount of dynamic variation, and a clear demarcation between verse and chorus. Even a record like "Dancing in the Street", which took most of its power from the tension and release caused by spending most of the track on one chord, had the release that came with the line "All we need is music", and could be clearly subdivided into different sections. "I Was Made to Love Her" wasn't like that. There was a tiny section which functioned as a middle eight -- and which cover versions like the one by the Beach Boys later that year tend to cut out, because it disrupts the song's flow: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "I Was Made to Love Her"] But other than that, the song has no verse or chorus, no distinct sections, it's just a series of lyrical couplets over the same four chords, repeating over and over, an incessant groove that could really go on indefinitely: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "I Was Made to Love Her"] This is as close as Motown had come at this point to the new genre of funk, of records that were just staying with one groove throughout. It wasn't a funk record, not yet -- it was still a pop-soul record, But what made it extraordinary was the bass line, and this is why I had to emphasise earlier that this was a record by the Funk Brothers, not the Wrecking Crew, no matter how much some Crew members may claim otherwise. As on most of Cosby's sessions, James Jamerson was given free reign to come up with his own part with little guidance, and what he came up with is extraordinary. This was at a time when rock and pop basslines were becoming a little more mobile, thanks to the influence of Jamerson in Detroit, Brian Wilson in LA, and Paul McCartney in London.  But for the most part, even those bass parts had been fairly straightforward technically -- often inventive, but usually just crotchets and quavers, still keeping rhythm along with the drums rather than in dialogue with them, roaming free rhythmically. Jamerson had started to change his approach, inspired by the change in studio equipment. Motown had upgraded to eight-track recording in 1965, and once he'd become aware of the possibilities, and of the greater prominence that his bass parts could have if they were recorded on their own track, Jamerson had become a much busier player. Jamerson was a jazz musician by inclination, and so would have been very aware of John Coltrane's legendary "sheets of sound", in which Coltrane would play fast arpeggios and scales, in clusters of five and seven notes, usually in semiquaver runs (though sometimes in even smaller fractions -- his solo in Miles Davis' "Straight, No Chaser" is mostly semiquavers but has a short passage in hemidemisemiquavers): [Excerpt: Miles Davis, "Straight, No Chaser"] Jamerson started to adapt the "sheets of sound" style to bass playing, treating the bass almost as a jazz solo instrument -- though unlike Coltrane he was also very, very concerned with creating something that people could tap their feet to. Much like James Brown, Jamerson was taking jazz techniques and repurposing them for dance music. The most notable example of that up to this point had been in the Four Tops' "Bernadette", where there are a few scuffling semiquaver runs thrown in, and which is a much more fluid part than most of his playing previously: [Excerpt: The Four Tops, "Bernadette"] But on "Bernadette", Jamerson had been limited by Holland, Dozier, and Holland, who liked him to improvise but around a framework they created. Cosby, on the other hand, because he had been a Funk Brother himself, was much more aware of the musicians' improvisational abilities, and would largely give them a free hand. This led to a truly remarkable bass part on "I Was Made to Love Her", which is somewhat buried in the single mix, but Marcus Miller did an isolated recreation of the part for the accompanying CD to a book on Jamerson, Standing in the Shadows of Motown, and listening to that you can hear just how inventive it is: [Excerpt: Marcus Miller, "I Was Made to Love Her"] This was exciting stuff -- though much less so for the touring musicians who went on the road with the Motown revues while Jamerson largely stayed in Detroit recording. Jamerson's family would later talk about him coming home grumbling because complaints from the touring musicians had been brought to him, and he'd been asked to play less difficult parts so they'd find it easier to replicate them on stage. "I Was Made to Love Her" wouldn't exist without Stevie Wonder, Hank Cosby, Sylvia Moy, or Lula Mae Hardaway, but it's James Jamerson's record through and through: [Excerpt: Stevie Wonder, "I Was Made to Love Her"] It went to number two on the charts, sat between "Light My Fire" at number one, and "All You Need is Love" at number three, with the Beatles song soon to overtake it and make number one itself. But within a few weeks of "I Was Made to Love Her" reaching its chart peak, things in Detroit would change irrevocably. On the 23rd of July, the police busted an illegal drinking den. They thought they were only going to get about twenty-five people there, but there turned out to be a big party on. They tried to arrest seventy-four people, but their wagon wouldn't fit them all in so they had to call reinforcements and make the arrestees wait around til more wagons arrived. A crowd of hundreds gathered while they were waiting. Someone threw a brick at a squad car window, a rumour went round that the police had bayonetted someone, and soon the city was in flames. Riots lasted for days, with people burning down and looting businesses, but what really made the situation bad was the police's overreaction. They basically started shooting at young Black men, using them as target practice, and later claiming they were snipers, arsonists, and looters -- but there were cases like the Algiers Motel incident, where the police raided a motel where several Black men, including the members of the soul group The Dramatics, were hiding out along with a few white women. The police sexually assaulted the women, and then killed three of the men for associating with white women, in what was described as a "lynching with bullets". The policemen in question were later acquitted of all charges. The National Guard were called in, as were Federal troops -- the 82nd Airborne Division, and the 101st Airborne from Clarksville, the division in which Jimi Hendrix had recently served. After four days of rioting, one of the bloodiest riots in US history was at an end, with forty-three people dead (of whom thirty-three were Black and only one was a policeman). Official counts had 1,189 people injured, and over 7,200 arrests, almost all of them of Black people. A lot of the histories written later say that Black-owned businesses were spared during the riots, but that wasn't really the case. For example, Joe's Record Shop, owned by Joe Von Battle, who had put out the first records by C.L. Franklin and his daughter Aretha, was burned down, destroying not only the stock of records for sale but the master tapes of hundreds of recordings of Black artists, many of them unreleased and so now lost forever. John Lee Hooker, one of the artists whose music Von Battle had released, soon put out a song, "The Motor City is Burning", about the events: [Excerpt: John Lee Hooker, "The Motor City is Burning"] But one business that did remain unburned was Motown, with the Hitsville studio going untouched by flames and unlooted. Motown legend has this being down to the rioters showing respect for the studio that had done so much for Detroit, but it seems likely to have just been luck. Although Motown wasn't completely unscathed -- a National Guard tank fired a shell through the building, leaving a gigantic hole, which Berry Gordy saw as soon as he got back from a business trip he'd been on during the rioting. That was what made Berry Gordy decide once and for all that things needed to change. Motown owned a whole row of houses near the studio, which they used as additional office space and for everything other than the core business of making records. Gordy immediately started to sell them, and move the admin work into temporary rented space. He hadn't announced it yet, and it would be a few years before the move was complete, but from that moment on, the die was cast. Motown was going to leave Detroit and move to Hollywood.

Episode 152 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “For What It's Worth”, and the short but eventful career of Buffalo Springfield. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-five-minute bonus episode available, on "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" by Glen Campbell. 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, there's a Mixcloud mix containing all the songs excerpted in the episode. This four-CD box set is the definitive collection of Buffalo Springfield's work, while if you want the mono version of the second album, the stereo version of the first, and the final album as released, but no demos or outtakes, you want this more recent box set. For What It's Worth: The Story of Buffalo Springfield by Richey Furay and John Einarson is obviously Furay's version of the story, but all the more interesting for that. For information on Steve Stills' early life I used Stephen Stills: Change Partners by David Roberts.  Information on both Stills and Young comes from Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young by David Browne.  Jimmy McDonough's Shakey is the definitive biography of Neil Young, while Young's Waging Heavy Peace is his autobiography. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript A quick note before we begin -- this episode deals with various disabilities. In particular, there are descriptions of epileptic seizures that come from non-medically-trained witnesses, many of whom took ableist attitudes towards the seizures. I don't know enough about epilepsy to know how accurate their descriptions and perceptions are, and I apologise if that means that by repeating some of their statements, I am inadvertently passing on myths about the condition. When I talk about this, I am talking about the after-the-fact recollections of musicians, none of them medically trained and many of them in altered states of consciousness, about events that had happened decades earlier. Please do not take anything said in a podcast about music history as being the last word on the causes or effects of epileptic seizures, rather than how those musicians remember them. Anyway, on with the show. One of the things you notice if you write about protest songs is that a lot of the time, the songs that people talk about as being important or impactful have aged very poorly. Even great songwriters like Bob Dylan or John Lennon, when writing material about the political events of the time, would write material they would later acknowledge was far from their best. Too often a song will be about a truly important event, and be powered by a real sense of outrage at injustice, but it will be overly specific, and then as soon as the immediate issue is no longer topical, the song is at best a curio. For example, the sentencing of the poet and rock band manager John Sinclair to ten years in prison for giving two joints to an undercover police officer was hugely controversial in the early seventies, but by the time John Lennon's song about it was released, Sinclair had been freed by the Supreme Court, and very, very few people would use the song as an example of why Lennon's songwriting still has lasting value: [Excerpt: John Lennon, "John Sinclair"] But there are exceptions, and those tend to be songs where rather than talking about specific headlines, the song is about the emotion that current events have caused. Ninety years on from its first success, for example, "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" still has resonance, because there are still people who are put out of work through no fault of their own, and even those of us who are lucky enough to be financially comfortable have the fear that all too soon it may end, and we may end up like Al begging on the streets: [Excerpt: Rudy Vallee, "Brother Can You Spare a Dime?"] And because of that emotional connection, sometimes the very best protest songs can take on new lives and new meanings, and connect with the way people feel about totally unrelated subjects. Take Buffalo Springfield's one hit. The actual subject of the song couldn't be any more trivial in the grand scheme of things -- a change in zoning regulations around the Sunset Strip that meant people under twenty-one couldn't go to the clubs after 10PM, and the subsequent reaction to that -- but because rather than talking about the specific incident, Steve Stills instead talked about the emotions that it called up, and just noted the fleeting images that he was left with, the song became adopted as an anthem by soldiers in Vietnam. Sometimes what a song says is nowhere near as important as how it says it. [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "For What It's Worth"] Steve Stills seems almost to have been destined to be a musician, although the instrument he started on, the drums, was not the one for which he would become best known. According to Stills, though, he always had an aptitude for rhythm, to the extent that he learned to tapdance almost as soon as he had learned to walk. He started on drums aged eight or nine, after somebody gave him a set of drumsticks. After his parents got sick of him damaging the furniture by playing on every available surface, an actual drum kit followed, and that became his principal instrument, even after he learned to play the guitar at military school, as his roommate owned one. As a teenager, Stills developed an idiosyncratic taste in music, helped by the record collection of his friend Michael Garcia. He didn't particularly like most of the pop music of the time, but he was a big fan of pre-war country music, Motown, girl-group music -- he especially liked the Shirelles -- and Chess blues. He was also especially enamoured of the music of Jimmy Reed, a passion he would later share with his future bandmate Neil Young: [Excerpt: Jimmy Reed, "Baby, What You Want Me To Do?"] In his early teens, he became the drummer for a band called the Radars, and while he was drumming he studied their lead guitarist, Chuck Schwin.  He said later "There was a whole little bunch of us who were into kind of a combination of all the blues guys and others including Chet Atkins, Dick Dale, and Hank Marvin: a very weird cross-section of far-out guitar players." Stills taught himself to play like those guitarists, and in particular he taught himself how to emulate Atkins' Travis-picking style, and became remarkably proficient at it. There exists a recording of him, aged sixteen, singing one of his own songs and playing finger-picked guitar, and while the song is not exactly the strongest thing I've ever heard lyrically, it's clearly the work of someone who is already a confident performer: [Excerpt: Stephen Stills, "Travellin'"] But the main reason he switched to becoming a guitarist wasn't because of his admiration for Chet Atkins or Hank Marvin, but because he started driving and discovered that if you have to load a drum kit into your car and then drive it to rehearsals and gigs you either end up bashing up your car or bashing up the drum kit. As this is not a problem with guitars, Stills decided that he'd move on from the Radars, and join a band named the Continentals as their rhythm guitarist, playing with lead guitarist Don Felder. Stills was only in the Continentals for a few months though, before being replaced by another guitarist, Bernie Leadon, and in general Stills' whole early life is one of being uprooted and moved around. His father had jobs in several different countries, and while for the majority of his time Stills was in the southern US, he also ended up spending time in Costa Rica -- and staying there as a teenager even as the rest of his family moved to El Salvador. Eventually, aged eighteen, he moved to New Orleans, where he formed a folk duo with a friend, Chris Sarns. The two had very different tastes in folk music -- Stills preferred Dylan-style singer-songwriters, while Sarns liked the clean sound of the Kingston Trio -- but they played together for several months before moving to Greenwich Village, where they performed together and separately. They were latecomers to the scene, which had already mostly ended, and many of the folk stars had already gone on to do bigger things. But Stills still saw plenty of great performers there -- Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonius Monk in the jazz clubs, Woody Allen, Lenny Bruce, and Richard Pryor in the comedy ones, and Simon and Garfunkel, Richie Havens, Fred Neil and Tim Hardin in the folk ones -- Stills said that other than Chet Atkins, Havens, Neil, and Hardin were the people most responsible for his guitar style. Stills was also, at this time, obsessed with Judy Collins' third album -- the album which had featured Roger McGuinn on banjo and arrangements, and which would soon provide several songs for the Byrds to cover: [Excerpt: Judy Collins, "Turn, Turn, Turn"] Judy Collins would soon become a very important figure in Stills' life, but for now she was just the singer on his favourite record. While the Greenwich Village folk scene was no longer quite what it had been a year or two earlier, it was still a great place for a young talented musician to perform. As well as working with Chris Sarns, Stills also formed a trio with his friend John Hopkins and a banjo player called Peter Tork who everyone said looked just like Stills. Tork soon headed out west to seek his fortune, and then Stills got headhunted to join the Au Go Go Singers. This was a group that was being set up in the same style as the New Christy Minstrels -- a nine-piece vocal and instrumental group that would do clean-sounding versions of currently-popular folk songs. The group were signed to Roulette Records, and recorded one album, They Call Us Au-Go-Go Singers, produced by Hugo and Luigi, the production duo we've previously seen working with everyone from the Tokens to the Isley Brothers. Much of the album is exactly the same kind of thing that a million New Christy Minstrels soundalikes were putting out -- and Stills, with his raspy voice, was clearly intended to be the Barry McGuire of this group -- but there was one exception -- a song called "High Flyin' Bird", on which Stills was able to show off the sound that would later make him famous, and which became so associated with him that even though it was written by Billy Edd Wheeler, the writer of "Jackson", even the biography of Stills I used in researching this episode credits "High Flyin' Bird" as being a Stills original: [Excerpt: The Au-Go-Go Singers, "High Flyin' Bird"] One of the other members of the Au-Go-Go Singers, Richie Furay, also got to sing a lead vocal on the album, on the Tom Paxton song "Where I'm Bound": [Excerpt: The Au-Go-Go Singers, "Where I'm Bound"] The Au-Go-Go Singers got a handful of dates around the folk scene, and Stills and Furay became friendly with another singer playing the same circuit, Gram Parsons. Parsons was one of the few people they knew who could see the value in current country music, and convinced both Stills and Furay to start paying more attention to what was coming out of Nashville and Bakersfield. But soon the Au-Go-Go Singers split up. Several venues where they might otherwise have been booked were apparently scared to book an act that was associated with Morris Levy, and also the market for big folk ensembles dried up more or less overnight when the Beatles hit the music scene. But several of the group -- including Stills but not Furay -- decided they were going to continue anyway, and formed a group called The Company, and they went on a tour of Canada. And one of the venues they played was the Fourth Dimension coffee house in Fort William, Ontario, and there their support act was a rock band called The Squires: [Excerpt: The Squires, "(I'm a Man And) I Can't Cry"] The lead guitarist of the Squires, Neil Young, had a lot in common with Stills, and they bonded instantly. Both men had parents who had split up when they were in their teens, and had a successful but rather absent father and an overbearing mother. And both had shown an interest in music even as babies. According to Young's mother, when he was still in nappies, he would pull himself up by the bars  of his playpen and try to dance every time he heard "Pinetop's Boogie Woogie": [Excerpt: Pinetop Smith, "Pinetop's Boogie Woogie"] Young, though, had had one crucial experience which Stills had not had. At the age of six, he'd come down with polio, and become partially paralysed. He'd spent months in hospital before he regained his ability to walk, and the experience had also affected him in other ways. While he was recovering, he would draw pictures of trains -- other than music, his big interest, almost an obsession, was with electric train sets, and that obsession would remain with him throughout his life -- but for the first time he was drawing with his right hand rather than his left. He later said "The left-hand side got a little screwed. Feels different from the right. If I close my eyes, my left side, I really don't know where it is—but over the years I've discovered that almost one hundred percent for sure it's gonna be very close to my right side … probably to the left. That's why I started appearing to be ambidextrous, I think. Because polio affected my left side, and I think I was left-handed when I was born. What I have done is use the weak side as the dominant one because the strong side was injured." Both Young's father Scott Young -- a very famous Canadian writer and sports broadcaster, who was by all accounts as well known in Canada during his lifetime as his son -- and Scott's brother played ukulele, and they taught Neil how to play, and his first attempt at forming a group had been to get his friend Comrie Smith to get a pair of bongos and play along with him to Preston Epps' "Bongo Rock": [Excerpt: Preston Epps, "Bongo Rock"] Neil Young had liked all the usual rock and roll stars of the fifties  -- though in his personal rankings, Elvis came a distant third behind Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis -- but his tastes ran more to the more darkly emotional. He loved "Maybe" by the Chantels, saying "Raw soul—you cannot miss it. That's the real thing. She was believin' every word she was singin'." [Excerpt: The Chantels, "Maybe"] What he liked more than anything was music that had a mainstream surface but seemed slightly off-kilter. He was a major fan of Roy Orbison, saying, "it's almost impossible to comprehend the depth of that soul. It's so deep and dark it just keeps on goin' down—but it's not black. It's blue, deep blue. He's just got it. The drama. There's something sad but proud about Roy's music", and he would say similar things about Del Shannon, saying "He struck me as the ultimate dark figure—behind some Bobby Rydell exterior, y'know? “Hats Off to Larry,” “Runaway,” “Swiss Maid”—very, very inventive. The stuff was weird. Totally unaffected." More surprisingly, perhaps, he was a particular fan of Bobby Darin, who he admired so much because Darin could change styles at the drop of a hat, going from novelty rock and roll like "Splish Splash" to crooning "Mack The Knife" to singing Tim Hardin songs like "If I Were a Carpenter", without any of them seeming any less authentic. As he put it later "He just changed. He's completely different. And he's really into it. Doesn't sound like he's not there. “Dream Lover,” “Mack the Knife,” “If I Were a Carpenter,” “Queen of the Hop,” “Splish Splash”—tell me about those records, Mr. Darin. Did you write those all the same day, or what happened? He just changed so much. Just kinda went from one place to another. So it's hard to tell who Bobby Darin really was." And one record which Young was hugely influenced by was Floyd Cramer's country instrumental, "Last Date": [Excerpt: Floyd Cramer, "Last Date"] Now, that was a very important record in country music, and if you want to know more about it I strongly recommend listening to the episode of Cocaine and Rhinestones on the Nashville A-Team, which has a long section on the track, but the crucial thing to know about that track is that it's one of the earliest examples of what is known as slip-note playing, where the piano player, before hitting the correct note, briefly hits the note a tone below it, creating a brief discord. Young absolutely loved that sound, and wanted to make a sound like that on the guitar. And then, when he and his mother moved to Winnipeg after his parents' divorce, he found someone who was doing just that. It was the guitarist in a group variously known as Chad Allan and the Reflections and Chad Allan and the Expressions. That group had relatives in the UK who would send them records, and so where most Canadian bands would do covers of American hits, Chad Allan and the Reflections would do covers of British hits, like their version of Geoff Goddard's "Tribute to Buddy Holly", a song that had originally been produced by Joe Meek: [Excerpt: Chad Allan and the Reflections, "Tribute to Buddy Holly"] That would later pay off for them in a big way, when they recorded a version of Johnny Kidd and the Pirates' "Shakin' All Over", for which their record label tried to create an air of mystery by releasing it with no artist name, just "Guess Who?" on the label. It became a hit, the name stuck, and they became The Guess Who: [Excerpt: The Guess Who, "Shakin' All Over"] But at this point they, and their guitarist Randy Bachman, were just another group playing around Winnipeg. Bachman, though, was hugely impressive to Neil Young for a few reasons. The first was that he really did have a playing style that was a lot like the piano style of Floyd Cramer -- Young would later say "it was Randy Bachman who did it first. Randy was the first one I ever heard do things on the guitar that reminded me of Floyd. He'd do these pulls—“darrr darrrr,” this two-note thing goin' together—harmony, with one note pulling and the other note stayin' the same." Bachman also had built the first echo unit that Young heard a guitarist play in person. He'd discovered that by playing with the recording heads on a tape recorder owned by his mother, he could replicate the tape echo that Sam Phillips had used at Sun Studios -- and once he'd attached that to his amplifier, he realised how much the resulting sound sounded like his favourite guitarist, Hank Marvin of the Shadows, another favourite of Neil Young's: [Excerpt: The Shadows, "Man of Mystery"] Young soon started looking to Bachman as something of a mentor figure, and he would learn a lot of guitar techniques second hand from Bachman -- every time a famous musician came to the area, Bachman would go along and stand right at the front and watch the guitarist, and make note of the positions their fingers were in. Then Bachman would replicate those guitar parts with the Reflections, and Neil Young would stand in front of him and make notes of where *his* fingers were. Young joined a band on the local circuit called the Esquires, but soon either quit or was fired, depending on which version of the story you choose to believe. He then formed his own rival band, the Squires, with no "e", much to the disgust of his ex-bandmates. In July 1963, five months after they formed, the  Squires released their first record, "Aurora" backed with "The Sultan", on a tiny local label. Both tracks were very obviously influenced by the Shadows: [Excerpt: The Squires, "Aurora"] The Squires were a mostly-instrumental band for the first year or so they were together, and then the Beatles hit North America, and suddenly people didn't want to hear surf instrumentals and Shadows covers any more, they only wanted to hear songs that sounded a bit like the Beatles. The Squires started to work up the appropriate repertoire -- two songs that have been mentioned as in their set at this point are the Beatles album track "It Won't Be Long", and "Money" which the Beatles had also covered -- but they didn't have a singer, being an instrumental group. They could get in a singer, of course, but that would mean splitting the money with another person. So instead, the guitarist, who had never had any intention of becoming a singer, was more or less volunteered for the role. Over the next eighteen months or so the group's repertoire moved from being largely instrumental to largely vocal, and the group also seem to have shuttled around a bit between two different cities -- Winnipeg and Fort William, staying in one for a while and then moving back to the other. They travelled between the two in Young's car, a Buick Roadmaster hearse. In Winnipeg, Young first met up with a singer named Joni Anderson, who was soon to get married to Chuck Mitchell and would become better known by her married name. The two struck up a friendship, though by all accounts never a particularly close one -- they were too similar in too many ways; as Mitchell later said “Neil and I have a lot in common: Canadian; Scorpios; polio in the same epidemic, struck the same parts of our body; and we both have a black sense of humor". They were both also idiosyncratic artists who never fit very well into boxes. In Fort William the Squires made a few more records, this time vocal tracks like "I'll Love You Forever": [Excerpt: The Squires, "I'll Love You Forever"] It was also in Fort William that Young first encountered two acts that would make a huge impression on him. One was a group called The Thorns, consisting of Tim Rose, Jake Holmes, and Rich Husson. The Thorns showed Young that there was interesting stuff being done on the fringes of the folk music scene. He later said "One of my favourites was “Oh Susannah”—they did this arrangement that was bizarre. It was in a minor key, which completely changed everything—and it was rock and roll. So that idea spawned arrangements of all these other songs for me. I did minor versions of them all. We got into it. That was a certain Squires stage that never got recorded. Wish there were tapes of those shows. We used to do all this stuff, a whole kinda music—folk-rock. We took famous old folk songs like “Clementine,” “She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain,” “Tom Dooley,” and we did them all in minor keys based on the Tim Rose arrangement of “Oh Susannah.” There are no recordings of the Thorns in existence that I know of, but presumably that arrangement that Young is talking about is the version that Rose also later did with the Big 3, which we've heard in a few other episodes: [Excerpt: The Big 3, "The Banjo Song"] The other big influence was, of course, Steve Stills, and the two men quickly found themselves influencing each other deeply. Stills realised that he could bring more rock and roll to his folk-music sound, saying that what amazed him was the way the Squires could go from "Cottonfields" (the Lead Belly song) to "Farmer John", the R&B song by Don and Dewey that was becoming a garage-rock staple. Young in turn was inspired to start thinking about maybe going more in the direction of folk music. The Squires even renamed themselves the High-Flying Birds, after the song that Stills had recorded with the Au Go Go Singers. After The Company's tour of Canada, Stills moved back to New York for a while. He now wanted to move in a folk-rock direction, and for a while he tried to persuade his friend John Sebastian to let him play bass in his new band, but when the Lovin' Spoonful decided against having him in the band, he decided to move West to San Francisco, where he'd heard there was a new music scene forming. He enjoyed a lot of the bands he saw there, and in particular he was impressed by the singer of a band called the Great Society: [Excerpt: The Great Society, "Somebody to Love"] He was much less impressed with the rest of her band, and seriously considered going up to her and asking if she wanted to work with some *real* musicians instead of the unimpressive ones she was working with, but didn't get his nerve up. We will, though, be hearing more about Grace Slick in future episodes. Instead, Stills decided to move south to LA, where many of the people he'd known in Greenwich Village were now based. Soon after he got there, he hooked up with two other musicians, a guitarist named Steve Young and a singer, guitarist, and pianist named Van Dyke Parks. Parks had a record contract at MGM -- he'd been signed by Tom Wilson, the same man who had turned Dylan electric, signed Simon and Garfunkel, and produced the first albums by the Mothers of Invention. With Wilson, Parks put out a couple of singles in 1966, "Come to the Sunshine": [Excerpt: The Van Dyke Parks, "Come to the Sunshine"] And "Number Nine", a reworking of the Ode to Joy from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony: [Excerpt: The Van Dyke Parks, "Number Nine"]Parks, Stills, and Steve Young became The Van Dyke Parks Band, though they didn't play together for very long, with their most successful performance being as the support act for the Lovin' Spoonful for a show in Arizona. But they did have a lasting resonance -- when Van Dyke Parks finally got the chance to record his first solo album, he opened it with Steve Young singing the old folk song "Black Jack Davy", filtered to sound like an old tape: [Excerpt: Steve Young, "Black Jack Davy"] And then it goes into a song written for Parks by Randy Newman, but consisting of Newman's ideas about Parks' life and what he knew about him, including that he had been third guitar in the Van Dyke Parks Band: [Excerpt: Van Dyke Parks, "Vine Street"] Parks and Stills also wrote a few songs together, with one of their collaborations, "Hello, I've Returned", later being demoed by Stills for Buffalo Springfield: [Excerpt: Steve Stills, "Hello, I've Returned"] After the Van Dyke Parks Band fell apart, Parks went on to many things, including a brief stint on keyboards in the Mothers of Invention, and we'll be talking more about him next episode. Stills formed a duo called the Buffalo Fish, with his friend Ron Long. That soon became an occasional trio when Stills met up again with his old Greenwich Village friend Peter Tork, who joined the group on the piano. But then Stills auditioned for the Monkees and was turned down because he had bad teeth -- or at least that's how most people told the story. Stills has later claimed that while he turned up for the Monkees auditions, it wasn't to audition, it was to try to pitch them songs, which seems implausible on the face of it. According to Stills, he was offered the job and turned it down because he'd never wanted it. But whatever happened, Stills suggested they might want his friend Peter, who looked just like him apart from having better teeth, and Peter Tork got the job. But what Stills really wanted to do was to form a proper band. He'd had the itch to do it ever since seeing the Squires, and he decided he should ask Neil Young to join. There was only one problem -- when he phoned Young, the phone was answered by Young's mother, who told Stills that Neil had moved out to become a folk singer, and she didn't know where he was. But then Stills heard from his old friend Richie Furay. Furay was still in Greenwich Village, and had decided to write to Stills. He didn't know where Stills was, other than that he was in California somewhere, so he'd written to Stills' father in El Salvador. The letter had been returned, because the postage had been short by one cent, so Furay had resent it with the correct postage. Stills' father had then forwarded the letter to the place Stills had been staying in San Francisco, which had in turn forwarded it on to Stills in LA. Furay's letter mentioned this new folk singer who had been on the scene for a while and then disappeared again, Neil Young, who had said he knew Stills, and had been writing some great songs, one of which Furay had added to his own set. Stills got in touch with Furay and told him about this great band he was forming in LA, which he wanted Furay to join. Furay was in, and travelled from New York to LA, only to be told that at this point there were no other members of this great band, but they'd definitely find some soon. They got a publishing deal with Columbia/Screen Gems, which gave them enough money to not starve, but what they really needed was to find some other musicians. They did, when driving down Hollywood Boulevard on April the sixth, 1966. There, stuck in traffic going the other way, they saw a hearse... After Steve Stills had left Fort William, so had Neil Young. He hadn't initially intended to -- the High-Flying Birds still had a regular gig, but Young and some of his friends had gone away for a few days on a road trip in his hearse. But unfortunately the transmission on the hearse had died, and Young and his friends had been stranded. Many years later, he would write a eulogy to the hearse, which he and Stills would record together: [Excerpt: The Stills-Young Band, "Long May You Run"] Young and his friends had all hitch-hiked in different directions -- Young had ended up in Toronto, where his dad lived, and had stayed with his dad for a while. The rest of his band had eventually followed him there, but Young found the Toronto music scene not to his taste -- the folk and rock scenes there were very insular and didn't mingle with each other, and the group eventually split up. Young even took on a day job for a while, for the only time in his life, though he soon quit. Young started basically commuting between Toronto and New York, a distance of several hundred miles, going to Greenwich Village for a while before ending up back in Toronto, and ping-ponging between the two. In New York, he met up with Richie Furay, and also had a disastrous audition for Elektra Records as a solo artist. One of the songs he sang in the audition was "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing", the song which Furay liked so much he started performing it himself. Young doesn't normally explain his songs, but as this was one of the first he ever wrote, he talked about it in interviews in the early years, before he decided to be less voluble about his art. The song was apparently about the sense of youthful hope being crushed. The instigation for it was Young seeing his girlfriend with another man, but the central image, of Clancy not singing, came from Young's schooldays. The Clancy in question was someone Young liked as one of the other weird kids at school. He was disabled, like Young, though with MS rather than polio, and he would sing to himself in the hallways at school. Sadly, of course, the other kids would mock and bully him for that, and eventually he ended up stopping. Young said about it "After awhile, he got so self-conscious he couldn't do his thing any more. When someone who is as beautiful as that and as different as that is actually killed by his fellow man—you know what I mean—like taken and sorta chopped down—all the other things are nothing compared to this." [Excerpt: Neil Young, "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing (Elektra demo)"] One thing I should say for anyone who listens to the Mixcloud for this episode, that song, which will be appearing in a couple of different versions, has one use of a term for Romani people that some (though not all) consider a slur. It's not in the excerpts I'll be using in this episode, but will be in the full versions on the Mixcloud. Sadly that word turns up time and again in songs of this era... When he wasn't in New York, Young was living in Toronto in a communal apartment owned by a folk singer named Vicki Taylor, where many of the Toronto folk scene would stay. Young started listening a lot to Taylor's Bert Jansch albums, which were his first real exposure to the British folk-baroque style of guitar fingerpicking, as opposed to the American Travis-picking style, and Young would soon start to incorporate that style into his own playing: [Excerpt: Bert Jansch, "Angie"] Another guitar influence on Young at this point was another of the temporary tenants of Taylor's flat, John Kay, who would later go on to be one of the founding members of Steppenwolf. Young credited Kay with having a funky rhythm guitar style that Young incorporated into his own. While he was in Toronto, he started getting occasional gigs in Detroit, which is "only" a couple of hundred miles away, set up by Joni and Chuck Mitchell, both of whom also sometimes stayed at Taylor's. And it was in Detroit that Neil Young became, albeit very briefly, a Motown artist. The Mynah Birds were a band in Toronto that had at one point included various future members of Steppenwolf, and they were unusual for the time in that they were a white band with a Black lead singer, Ricky Matthews. They also had a rich manager, John Craig Eaton, the heir to the Eaton's department store fortune, who basically gave them whatever money they wanted -- they used to go to his office and tell him they needed seven hundred dollars for lunch, and he'd hand it to them. They were looking for a new guitarist when Bruce Palmer, their bass player, bumped into Neil Young carrying an amp and asked if he was interested in joining. He was. The Mynah Birds quickly became one of the best bands in Toronto, and Young and Matthews became close, both as friends and as a performance team. People who saw them live would talk about things like a song called “Hideaway”, written by Young and Matthews, which had a spot in the middle where Young would start playing a harmonica solo, throw the harmonica up in the air mid-solo, Matthews would catch it, and he would then finish the solo. They got signed to Motown, who were at this point looking to branch out into the white guitar-group market, and they were put through the Motown star-making machine. They recorded an entire album, which remains unreleased, but they did release a single, "It's My Time": [Excerpt: The Mynah Birds, "It's My Time"] Or at least, they released a handful of promo copies. The single was pulled from release after Ricky Matthews got arrested. It turned out his birth name wasn't Ricky Matthews, but James Johnson, and that he wasn't from Toronto as he'd told everyone, but from Buffalo, New York. He'd fled to Canada after going AWOL from the Navy, not wanting to be sent to Vietnam, and he was arrested and jailed for desertion. After getting out of jail, he would start performing under yet another name, and as Rick James would have a string of hits in the seventies and eighties: [Excerpt: Rick James, "Super Freak"] Most of the rest of the group continued gigging as The Mynah Birds, but Young and Palmer had other plans. They sold the expensive equipment Eaton had bought the group, and Young bought a new hearse, which he named Mort 2 – Mort had been his first hearse. And according to one of the band's friends in Toronto, the crucial change in their lives came when Neil Young heard a song on a jukebox: [Excerpt: The Mamas and the Papas, "California Dreamin'"] Young apparently heard "California Dreamin'" and immediately said "Let's go to California and become rock stars". Now, Young later said of this anecdote that "That sounds like a Canadian story to me. That sounds too real to be true", and he may well be right. Certainly the actual wording of the story is likely incorrect -- people weren't talking about "rock stars" in 1966. Google's Ngram viewer has the first use of the phrase in print being in 1969, and the phrase didn't come into widespread usage until surprisingly late -- even granting that phrases enter slang before they make it to print, it still seems implausible. But even though the precise wording might not be correct, something along those lines definitely seems to have happened, albeit possibly less dramatically. Young's friend Comrie Smith independently said that Young told him “Well, Comrie, I can hear the Mamas and the Papas singing ‘All the leaves are brown, and the skies are gray …' I'm gonna go down to the States and really make it. I'm on my way. Today North Toronto, tomorrow the world!” Young and Palmer loaded up Mort 2 with a bunch of their friends and headed towards California. On the way, they fell out with most of the friends, who parted from them, and Young had an episode which in retrospect may have been his first epileptic seizure. They decided when they got to California that they were going to look for Steve Stills, as they'd heard he was in LA and neither of them knew anyone else in the state. But after several days of going round the Sunset Strip clubs asking if anyone knew Steve Stills, and sleeping in the hearse as they couldn't afford anywhere else, they were getting fed up and about to head off to San Francisco, as they'd heard there was a good music scene there, too. They were going to leave that day, and they were stuck in traffic on Sunset Boulevard, about to head off, when Stills and Furay came driving in the other direction. Furay happened to turn his head, to brush away a fly, and saw a hearse with Ontario license plates. He and Stills both remembered that Young drove a hearse, and so they assumed it must be him. They started honking at the hearse, then did a U-turn. They got Young's attention, and they all pulled into the parking lot at Ben Frank's, the Sunset Strip restaurant that attracted such a hip crowd the Monkees' producers had asked for "Ben Frank's types" in their audition advert. Young introduced Stills and Furay to Palmer, and now there *was* a group -- three singing, songwriting, guitarists and a bass player. Now all they needed was a drummer. There were two drummers seriously considered for the role. One of them, Billy Mundi, was technically the better player, but Young didn't like playing with him as much -- and Mundi also had a better offer, to join the Mothers of Invention as their second drummer -- before they'd recorded their first album, they'd had two drummers for a few months, but Denny Bruce, their second drummer, had become ill with glandular fever and they'd reverted to having Jimmy Carl Black play solo. Now they were looking for someone else, and Mundi took that role. The other drummer, who Young preferred anyway, was another Canadian, Dewey Martin. Martin was a couple of years older than the rest of the group, and by far the most experienced. He'd moved from Canada to Nashville in his teens, and according to Martin he had been taken under the wing of Hank Garland, the great session guitarist most famous for "Sugarfoot Rag": [Excerpt: Hank Garland, "Sugarfoot Rag"] We heard Garland playing with Elvis and others in some of the episodes around 1960, and by many reckonings he was the best session guitarist in Nashville, but in 1961 he had a car accident that left him comatose, and even though he recovered from the coma and lived another thirty-three years, he never returned to recording. According to Martin, though, Garland would still sometimes play jazz clubs around Nashville after the accident, and one day Martin walked into a club and saw him playing. The drummer he was playing with got up and took a break, taking his sticks with him, so Martin got up on stage and started playing, using two combs instead of sticks. Garland was impressed, and told Martin that Faron Young needed a drummer, and he could get him the gig. At the time Young was one of the biggest stars in country music. That year, 1961, he had three country top ten hits, including a number one with his version of Willie Nelson's "Hello Walls", produced by Ken Nelson: [Excerpt: Faron Young, "Hello Walls"] Martin joined Faron Young's band for a while, and also ended up playing short stints in the touring bands of various other Nashville-based country and rock stars, including Patsy Cline, Roy Orbison, and the Everly Brothers, before heading to LA for a while. Then Mel Taylor of the Ventures hooked him up with some musicians in the Pacific Northwest scene, and Martin started playing there under the name Sir Raleigh and the Coupons with various musicians. After a while he travelled back to LA where he got some members of the LA group Sons of Adam to become a permanent lineup of Coupons, and they recorded several singles with Martin singing lead, including the Tommy Boyce and Steve Venet song "Tomorrow's Gonna Be Another Day", later recorded by the Monkees: [Excerpt: Sir Raleigh and the Coupons, "Tomorrow's Gonna Be Another Day"] He then played with the Standells, before joining the Modern Folk Quartet for a short while, as they were transitioning from their folk sound to a folk-rock style. He was only with them for a short while, and it's difficult to get precise details -- almost everyone involved with Buffalo Springfield has conflicting stories about their own careers with timelines that don't make sense, which is understandable given that people were talking about events decades later and memory plays tricks. "Fast" Eddie Hoh had joined the Modern Folk Quartet on drums in late 1965, at which point they became the Modern Folk Quintet, and nothing I've read about that group talks about Hoh ever actually leaving, but apparently Martin joined them in February 1966, which might mean he's on their single "Night-Time Girl", co-written by Al Kooper and produced and arranged by Jack Nitzsche: [Excerpt: The Modern Folk Quintet, "Night-Time Girl"] After that, Martin was taken on by the Dillards, a bluegrass band who are now possibly most famous for having popularised the Arthur "Guitar Boogie" Smith song "Duellin' Banjos", which they recorded on their first album and played on the Andy Griffith Show a few years before it was used in Deliverance: [Excerpt: The Dillards, "Duellin' Banjos"] The Dillards had decided to go in a country-rock direction -- and Doug Dillard would later join the Byrds and make records with Gene Clark -- but they were hesitant about it, and after a brief period with Martin in the band they decided to go back to their drummerless lineup. To soften the blow, they told him about another band that was looking for a drummer -- their manager, Jim Dickson, who was also the Byrds' manager, knew Stills and his bandmates. Dewey Martin was in the group. The group still needed a name though. They eventually took their name from a brand of steam roller, after seeing one on the streets when some roadwork was being done. Everyone involved disagrees as to who came up with the name. Steve Stills at one point said it was a group decision after Neil Young and the group's manager Frazier Mohawk stole the nameplate off the steamroller, and later Stills said that Richey Furay had suggested the name while they were walking down the street, Dewey Martin said it was his idea, Neil Young said that he, Steve Sills, and Van Dyke Parks had been walking down the street and either Young or Stills had seen the nameplate and suggested the name, and Van Dyke Parks says that *he* saw the nameplate and suggested it to Dewey Martin: [Excerpt: Steve Stills and Van Dyke Parks on the name] For what it's worth, I tend to believe Van Dyke Parks in most instances -- he's an honest man, and he seems to have a better memory of the sixties than many of his friends who led more chemically interesting lives. Whoever came up with it, the name worked -- as Stills later put it "We thought it was pretty apt, because Neil Young is from Manitoba which is buffalo country, and  Richie Furay was from Springfield, Ohio -- and I'm the field!" It almost certainly also helped that the word "buffalo" had been in the name of Stills' previous group, Buffalo Fish. On the eleventh of April, 1966, Buffalo Springfield played their first gig, at the Troubadour, using equipment borrowed from the Dillards. Chris Hillman of the Byrds was in the audience and was impressed. He got the group a support slot on a show the Byrds and the Dillards were doing a few days later in San Bernardino. That show was compered by a Merseyside-born British DJ, John Ravenscroft, who had managed to become moderately successful in US radio by playing up his regional accent so he sounded more like the Beatles. He would soon return to the UK, and start broadcasting under the name John Peel. Hillman also got them a week-long slot at the Whisky A-Go-Go, and a bidding war started between record labels to sign the band. Dunhill offered five thousand dollars, Warners counted with ten thousand, and then Atlantic offered twelve thousand. Atlantic were *just* starting to get interested in signing white guitar groups -- Jerry Wexler never liked that kind of music, always preferring to stick with soul and R&B, but Ahmet Ertegun could see which way things were going. Atlantic had only ever signed two other white acts before -- Neil Young's old favourite Bobby Darin, who had since left the label, and Sonny and Cher. And Sonny and Cher's management and production team, Brian Stone and Charlie Greene, were also very interested in the group, who even before they had made a record had quickly become the hottest band on the circuit, even playing the Hollywood Bowl as the Rolling Stones' support act. Buffalo Springfield already had managers -- Frazier Mohawk and Richard Davis, the lighting man at the Troubadour (who was sometimes also referred to as Dickie Davis, but I'll use his full name so as not to cause unnecessary confusion in British people who remember the sports TV presenter of the same name), who Mohawk had enlisted to help him. But Stone and Greene weren't going to let a thing like that stop them. According to anonymous reports quoted without attribution in David Roberts' biography of Stills -- so take this with as many grains of salt as you want -- Stone and Greene took Mohawk for a ride around LA in a limo, just the three of them, a gun, and a used hotdog napkin. At the end of the ride, the hotdog napkin had Mohawk's scrawled signature, signing the group over to Stone and Greene. Davis stayed on, but was demoted to just doing their lights. The way things ended up, the group signed to Stone and Greene's production company, who then leased their masters to Atlantic's Atco subsidiary. A publishing company was also set up for the group's songs -- owned thirty-seven point five percent by Atlantic, thirty-seven point five percent by Stone and Greene, and the other twenty-five percent split six ways between the group and Davis, who they considered their sixth member. Almost immediately, Charlie Greene started playing Stills and Young off against each other, trying a divide-and-conquer strategy on the group. This was quite easy, as both men saw themselves as natural leaders, though Stills was regarded by everyone as the senior partner -- the back cover of their first album would contain the line "Steve is the leader but we all are". Stills and Young were the two stars of the group as far as the audience were concerned -- though most musicians who heard them play live say that the band's real strength was in its rhythm section, with people comparing Palmer's playing to that of James Jamerson. But Stills and Young would get into guitar battles on stage, one-upping each other, in ways that turned the tension between them in creative directions. Other clashes, though were more petty -- both men had very domineering mothers, who would actually call the group's management to complain about press coverage if their son was given less space than the other one. The group were also not sure about Young's voice -- to the extent that Stills was known to jokingly apologise to the audience before Young took a lead vocal -- and so while the song chosen as the group's first A-side was Young's "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing", Furay was chosen to sing it, rather than Young: [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing"] On the group's first session, though, both Stills and Young realised that their producers didn't really have a clue -- the group had built up arrangements that had a complex interplay of instruments and vocals, but the producers insisted on cutting things very straightforwardly, with a basic backing track and then the vocals. They also thought that the song was too long so the group should play faster. Stills and Young quickly decided that they were going to have to start producing their own material, though Stone and Greene would remain the producers for the first album. There was another bone of contention though, because in the session the initial plan had been for Stills' song "Go and Say Goodbye" to be the A-side with Young's song as the B-side. It was flipped, and nobody seems quite sure why -- it's certainly the case that, whatever the merits of the two tracks as songs, Stills' song was the one that would have been more likely to become a hit. "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing" was a flop, but it did get some local airplay. The next single, "Burned", was a Young song as well, and this time did have Young taking the lead, though in a song dominated by harmonies: [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "Burned"] Over the summer, though, something had happened that would affect everything for the group -- Neil Young had started to have epileptic seizures. At first these were undiagnosed episodes, but soon they became almost routine events, and they would often happen on stage, particularly at moments of great stress or excitement. Several other members of the group became convinced -- entirely wrongly -- that Young was faking these seizures in order to get women to pay attention to him. They thought that what he wanted was for women to comfort him and mop his brow, and that collapsing would get him that. The seizures became so common that Richard Davis, the group's lighting tech, learned to recognise the signs of a seizure before it happened. As soon as it looked like Young was about to collapse the lights would turn on, someone would get ready to carry him off stage, and Richie Furay would know to grab Young's guitar before he fell so that the guitar wouldn't get damaged. Because they weren't properly grounded and Furay had an electric guitar of his own, he'd get a shock every time. Young would later claim that during some of the seizures, he would hallucinate that he was another person, in another world, living another life that seemed to have its own continuity -- people in the other world would recognise him and talk to him as if he'd been away for a while -- and then when he recovered he would have to quickly rebuild his identity, as if temporarily amnesiac, and during those times he would find things like the concept of lying painful. The group's first album came out in December, and they were very, very, unhappy with it. They thought the material was great, but they also thought that the production was terrible. Stone and Greene's insistence that they record the backing tracks first and then overdub vocals, rather than singing live with the instruments, meant that the recordings, according to Stills and Young in particular, didn't capture the sound of the group's live performance, and sounded sterile. Stills and Young thought they'd fixed some of that in the mono mix, which they spent ten days on, but then Stone and Greene did the stereo mix without consulting the band, in less than two days, and the album was released at precisely the time that stereo was starting to overtake mono in the album market. I'm using the mono mixes in this podcast, but for decades the only versions available were the stereo ones, which Stills and Young both loathed. Ahmet Ertegun also apparently thought that the demo versions of the songs -- some of which were eventually released on a box set in 2001 -- were much better than the finished studio recordings. The album was not a success on release, but it did contain the first song any of the group had written to chart. Soon after its release, Van Dyke Parks' friend Lenny Waronker was producing a single by a group who had originally been led by Sly Stone and had been called Sly and the Mojo Men. By this time Stone was no longer involved in the group, and they were making music in a very different style from the music their former leader would later become known for. Parks was brought in to arrange a baroque-pop version of Stills' album track "Sit Down I Think I Love You" for the group, and it became their only top forty hit, reaching number thirty-six: [Excerpt: The Mojo Men, "Sit Down I Think I Love You"] It was shortly after the first Buffalo Springfield album was released, though, that Steve Stills wrote what would turn out to be *his* group's only top forty single. The song had its roots in both LA and San Francisco. The LA roots were more obvious -- the song was written about a specific experience Stills had had. He had been driving to Sunset Strip from Laurel Canyon on November the twelfth 1966, and he had seen a mass of young people and police in riot gear, and he had immediately turned round, partly because he didn't want to get involved in what looked to be a riot, and partly because he'd been inspired -- he had the idea for a lyric, which he pretty much finished in the car even before he got home: [Excerpt: The Buffalo Springfield, "For What it's Worth"] The riots he saw were what became known later as the Riot on Sunset Strip. This was a minor skirmish between the police and young people of LA -- there had been complaints that young people had been spilling out of the nightclubs on Sunset Strip into the street, causing traffic problems, and as a result the city council had introduced various heavy-handed restrictions, including a ten PM curfew for all young people in the area, removing the permits that many clubs had which allowed people under twenty-one to be present, forcing the Whisky A-Go-Go to change its name just to "the Whisk", and forcing a club named Pandora's Box, which was considered the epicentre of the problem, to close altogether. Flyers had been passed around calling for a "funeral" for Pandora's Box -- a peaceful gathering at which people could say goodbye to a favourite nightspot, and a thousand people had turned up. The police also turned up, and in the heavy-handed way common among law enforcement, they managed to provoke a peaceful party and turn it into a riot. This would not normally be an event that would be remembered even a year later, let alone nearly sixty years later, but Sunset Strip was the centre of the American rock music world in the period, and of the broader youth entertainment field. Among those arrested at the riot, for example, were Jack Nicholson and Peter Fonda, neither of whom were huge stars at the time, but who were making cheap B-movies with Roger Corman for American International Pictures. Among the cheap exploitation films that American International Pictures made around this time was one based on the riots, though neither Nicholson, Fonda, or Corman were involved. Riot on Sunset Strip was released in cinemas only four months after the riots, and it had a theme song by Dewey Martin's old colleagues The Standells, which is now regarded as a classic of garage rock: [Excerpt: The Standells, "Riot on Sunset Strip"] The riots got referenced in a lot of other songs, as well. The Mothers of Invention's second album, Absolutely Free, contains the song "Plastic People" which includes this section: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, "Plastic People"] And the Monkees track "Daily Nightly", written by Michael Nesmith, was always claimed by Nesmith to be an impressionistic portrait of the riots, though the psychedelic lyrics sound to me more like they're talking about drug use and street-walking sex workers than anything to do with the riots: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Daily Nightly"] But the song about the riots that would have the most lasting effect on popular culture was the one that Steve Stills wrote that night. Although how much he actually wrote, at least of the music, is somewhat open to question. Earlier that month, Buffalo Springfield had spent some time in San Francisco. They hadn't enjoyed the experience -- as an LA band, they were thought of as a bunch of Hollywood posers by most of the San Francisco scene, with the exception of one band, Moby Grape -- a band who, like them had three guitarist/singer/songwriters, and with whom they got on very well. Indeed, they got on rather better with Moby Grape than they were getting on with each other at this point, because Young and Stills would regularly get into arguments, and every time their argument seemed to be settling down, Dewey Martin would manage to say the wrong thing and get Stills riled up again -- Martin was doing a lot of speed at this point and unable to stop talking, even when it would have been politic to do so. There was even some talk while they were in San Francisco of the bands doing a trade -- Young and Pete Lewis of Moby Grape swapping places -- though that came to nothing. But Stills, according to both Richard Davis and Pete Lewis, had been truly impressed by two Moby Grape songs. One of them was a song called "On the Other Side", which Moby Grape never recorded, but which apparently had a chorus that went "Stop, can't you hear the music ringing in your ear, right before you go, telling you the way is clear," with the group all pausing after the word "Stop". The other was a song called "Murder in my Heart for the Judge": [Excerpt: Moby Grape, "Murder in my Heart for the Judge"] The song Stills wrote had a huge amount of melodic influence from that song, and quite a bit from “On the Other Side”, though he apparently didn't notice until after the record came out, at which point he apologised to Moby Grape. Stills wasn't massively impressed with the song he'd written, and went to Stone and Greene's office to play it for them, saying "I'll play it, for what it's worth". They liked the song and booked a studio to get the song recorded and rush-released, though according to Neil Young neither Stone nor Greene were actually present at the session, and the song was recorded on December the fifth, while some outbursts of rioting were still happening, and released on December the twenty-third. [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "For What it's Worth"] The song didn't have a title when they recorded it, or so Stills thought, but when he mentioned this to Greene and Stone afterwards, they said "Of course it does. You said, 'I'm going to play the song, 'For What It's Worth'" So that became the title, although Ahmet Ertegun didn't like the idea of releasing a single with a title that wasn't in the lyric, so the early pressings of the single had "Stop, Hey, What's That Sound?" in brackets after the title. The song became a big hit, and there's a story told by David Crosby that doesn't line up correctly, but which might shed some light on why. According to Crosby, "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing" got its first airplay because Crosby had played members of Buffalo Springfield a tape he'd been given of the unreleased Beatles track "A Day in the Life", and they'd told their gangster manager-producers about it. Those manager-producers had then hired a sex worker to have sex with Crosby and steal the tape, which they'd then traded to a radio station in return for airplay. That timeline doesn't work, unless the sex worker involved was also a time traveller,  because "A Day in the Life" wasn't even recorded until January 1967 while "Clancy" came out in August 1966, and there'd been two other singles released between then and January 1967. But it *might* be the case that that's what happened with "For What It's Worth", which was released in the last week of December 1966, and didn't really start to do well on the charts for a couple of months. Right after recording the song, the group went to play a residency in New York, of which Ahmet Ertegun said “When they performed there, man, there was no band I ever heard that had the electricity of that group. That was the most exciting group I've ever seen, bar none. It was just mind-boggling.” During that residency they were joined on stage at various points by Mitch Ryder, Odetta, and Otis Redding. While in New York, the group also recorded "Mr. Soul", a song that Young had originally written as a folk song about his experiences with epilepsy, the nature of the soul, and dealing with fame. However, he'd noticed a similarity to "Satisfaction" and decided to lean into it. The track as finally released was heavily overdubbed by Young a few months later, but after it was released he decided he preferred the original take, which by then only existed as a scratchy acetate, which got released on a box set in 2001: [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "Mr. Soul (original version)"] Everyone has a different story of how the session for that track went -- at least one version of the story has Otis Redding turning up for the session and saying he wanted to record the song himself, as his follow-up to his version of "Satisfaction", but Young being angry at the idea. According to other versions of the story, Greene and Stills got into a physical fight, with Greene having to be given some of the valium Young was taking for his epilepsy to calm him down. "For What it's Worth" was doing well enough on the charts that the album was recalled, and reissued with "For What It's Worth" replacing Stills' song "Baby Don't Scold", but soon disaster struck the band. Bruce Palmer was arrested on drugs charges, and was deported back to Canada just as the song started to rise through the charts. The group needed a new bass player, fast. For a lipsynch appearance on local TV they got Richard Davis to mime the part, and then they got in Ken Forssi, the bass player from Love, for a couple of gigs. They next brought in Ken Koblun, the bass player from the Squires, but he didn't fit in with the rest of the group. The next replacement was Jim Fielder. Fielder was a friend of the group, and knew the material -- he'd subbed for Palmer a few times in 1966 when Palmer had been locked up after less serious busts. And to give some idea of how small a scene the LA scene was, when Buffalo Springfield asked him to become their bass player, he was playing rhythm guitar for the Mothers of Invention, while Billy Mundi was on drums, and had played on their second, as yet unreleased, album, Absolutely Free: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, "Call any Vegetable"] And before joining the Mothers, Fielder and Mundi had also played together with Van Dyke Parks, who had served his own short stint as a Mother of Invention already, backing Tim Buckley on Buckley's first album: [Excerpt: Tim Buckley, "Aren't You the Girl?"] And the arrangements on that album were by Jack Nitzsche, who would soon become a very close collaborator with Young. "For What it's Worth" kept rising up the charts. Even though it had been inspired by a very local issue, the lyrics were vague enough that people in other situations could apply it to themselves, and it soon became regarded as an anti-war protest anthem -- something Stills did nothing to discourage, as the band were all opposed to the war. The band were also starting to collaborate with other people. When Stills bought a new house, he couldn't move in to it for a while, and so Peter Tork invited him to stay at his house. The two got on so well that Tork invited Stills to produce the next Monkees album -- only to find that Michael Nesmith had already asked Chip Douglas to do it. The group started work on a new album, provisionally titled "Stampede", but sessions didn't get much further than Stills' song "Bluebird" before trouble arose between Young and Stills. The root of the argument seems to have been around the number of songs each got on the album. With Richie Furay also writing, Young was worried that given the others' attitudes to his songwriting, he might get as few as two songs on the album. And Young and Stills were arguing over which song should be the next single, with Young wanting "Mr. Soul" to be the A-side, while Stills wanted "Bluebird" -- Stills making the reasonable case that they'd released two Neil Young songs as singles and gone nowhere, and then they'd released one of Stills', and it had become a massive hit. "Bluebird" was eventually chosen as the A-side, with "Mr. Soul" as the B-side: [Excerpt: Buffalo Springfield, "Bluebird"] The "Bluebird" session was another fraught one. Fielder had not yet joined the band, and session player Bobby West subbed on bass. Neil Young had recently started hanging out with Jack Nitzsche, and the two were getting very close and working on music together. Young had impressed Nitzsche not just with his songwriting but with his arrogance -- he'd played Nitzsche his latest song, "Expecting to Fly", and Nitzsche had said halfway through "That's a great song", and Young had shushed him and told him to listen, not interrupt. Nitzsche, who had a monstrous ego himself and was also used to working with people like Phil Spector, the Rolling Stones and Sonny Bono, none of them known for a lack of faith in their own abilities, was impressed. Shortly after that, Stills had asked Nitzsch