Podcast appearances and mentions of The Kingston Trio

Chuck and Roxy are back on Todd Takei day and open with a special target for all the listeners. They also of course give you your weekly bowling segment! Next it's time to "Meet the Littles" as our hosts welcome Bob Kobee to the podcast! We get to hear all about his experience at Littlepalooza and his golf outing where he got to meet Chuck and Roxy! (12:30) Then our hosts close out the show with a Buy Nothing SCORE and (as teased) a movie experience seeing "Space Jam!" (39:00) SONG: "Victoria" by Bonfire Falls WEBSITE: bonfirefalls.comJINGLE: Aldridge and the NBA - A parody of a song by The Kingston Trio.Recorded by Dylan in Los Angeles, CARecorded: 05/27/2015  Released: 05/28/2015  First aired: unairedPodcast Website - www.loyallittlespod.com  Patreon: www.patreon.com/c/loyallittlespod/membershipPodcast Email - WTFCPODNET@GMAIL.COMTwitter:@loyallittlespod Instagram: @theloyallittlespodcastPODCAST LOGO DESIGN by Eric Londergan www.redbubble.com Search: ericlondergan or copy and paste this link! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ericlondergan/shop

Brendan's guest for My Life in Five Songs this week is astronaut, pilot, and author Chris Hadfield, whose music choices included Christy Moore, Brandi Carlisle, Neil Young, The Kingston Trio, and Elton John.

This week is a special - we look at the ten main threats to democracy today - 1) Wealth imbalance - the Wisconsin election, Trump's Tariffs; 2) Islam - the BBC and Bradford, the Salaah, Cardiff city council promotes Islam; 3) Anti-Semitism - Douglas Murray; John Anderson with Mark Durie and Richard Shumack;  4) Misuse of the police - Parents arrested for criticising school in UK, Scottish politician and the non hate crime of criticising non-binary ideology, FBI ordered gag on Hunter Biden laptop; 5) Progressive Woke ideology - Shanna Kattari, Ross Greer, Toddler suspended for transphobia, Quality Street becomes Equality Street, two tier justice;  6) Lawfare - Country of the week - France, the banning of Marine Le Pen, Yanis Varoufakis, Guy Verhofstadt; 7) Net Zero - destroying virgin forest in Australia, Myanmar earthquake, - when did the 24 hour day begin? 8) A Censored Media - death of Val Kilmer, Adolescence, Celtic's Shame, 9) Education as an indoctrination business - 10) The Decline of the Church  - including Feedback and the Final Word with music from Leonard Cohen, ACDC, Edith Piaf, the Kingston Trio, Jim Croce, and Sovereign Grace 

JoMac finds himself in the jungles of Titan 4 with General Hanaka and his guard with a very uncertain future. Thornton and Scarlett are on their way to Kingston Ontario Canada to meet with a blood relative of Major Meredith's. Barnes and Sam follow McMillan on the streets of Annapolis. The Mercury team patrols Titan City looking for Hanaka and his guard. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

JoMac finds himself in the jungles of Titan 4 with General Hanaka and his guard with a very uncertain future. Thornton and Scarlett are on their way to Kingston Ontario Canada to meet with a blood relative of Major Meredith's. Barnes and Sam follow McMillan on the streets of Annapolis. The Mercury team patrols Titan City looking for Hanaka and his guard. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

For a half dozen years beginning in the late 1990s, The Flood always greeted March's arrival with an annual road trip into the mountains. Providing an evening of music, jokes and stories, the band would entertain a roomful of visiting volunteers, kindly students who had come more than 600 miles from Milwaukee's Marquette University to use their spring break helping with assorted post-winter chores around the little mining town of Rhodell on Tams Mountain about 20 miles south of Beckley.As reported here earlier, from 1997 to 2002 The Flood's original three amigos — Joe Dobbs, David Peyton and Charlie Bowen — shared this weird, wonderful way to celebrate the coming of spring. To read more about these Tams Mountain adventures, click here.But, Hey, This is About a Song…Each year, party hostess Martha Thaxton never failed to ask the guys to play one particular tune before they left for their two-hour journey back to Huntington. It was a song that seemed to speak to Martha's own rambling soul as a die-hard folkie, a beloved Tom Paxton composition from his 1964 debut album for Elektra Records.“I Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound” was a song Dave and Charlie knew well — they had played it with Roger Samples back in the old Bowen Bash days — so they were happy to dust it off for Martha and her visiting good samaritans.In the past 60 years Paxton's song has been recorded by everyone from The Mitchell Trio and The Kingston Trio to Tiny Tim and Dion (no, really!), from The Country Gentlemen and Country Joe to Doc Watson and Nanci Griffith.But surely the most touching rendition was Johnny Cash's recording of the song in his final session in February 2010.In a recent interview, Paxton noted that Cash used to come in The Gaslight back in the early 60s “in what we now know was his worst period. “He was skinny as a rail because of all the pills he was doing. He had not had his renaissance yet. But he was a gentle man. He was a direct man and he took you as you were. I just liked this man.”Paxton said he was “absolutely thrilled … to hear him sing the song. That's just a once in a lifetime kind of thrill.”Elijah Wald Blazed the TrailSpeaking of being thrilled, members of The Flood's crack research department are always overjoyed whenever they discover the blazed trails and rambling footprints of the incomparable Elijah Wald on some musical terrain they've come to explore.For nine years now, Wald's online “Songbiography” has been his musical memoir, giving history and personal reflection on some of his favorite songs, which often turn out to be Flood favorites too. Elijah's site was barely a month old when he took up “I Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound.”It is a tune he loved as a young man, but, he writes, he couldn't “help noticing that Paxton himself got married back when he was writing these songs, and the marriage lasted, and he moved out to the country and raised a family, and all in all has had one of the most settled and stable lives of anyone on the folk scene.“It's as if he actually meant the last verse, where he sings that anyone who sees the ramblin' boy goin' by and wants to be like him should just ‘nail your shoes to the kitchen floor, lace 'em up and bar the door/Thank your stars for the roof that's over you.'”In retrospect, Wald said, “I think it's a nice touch that the singer keeps bemoaning his sad ‘n' ramblin' ways, but it's the girl, rather than him, who leaves on the morning train.”Our Take on the TuneSo this is an evergreen song, and that word has special meaning in The Flood band room. It is reserved for tunes that are timeless. This Tom Paxton classic might be 60 years old, but it feels it could have been written last week — or, well, a century ago. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com

One FM presenter Josh Revens and Steve Dowers present 'Whatever Happened To?' This week's topic is The Kingston Trio. This program originally aired on Monday the 24th of February, 2025. Contact the station on admin@fm985.com.au or (+613) 58313131 The ONE FM 98.5 Community Radio podcast page operates under the license of Goulburn Valley Community Radio Inc. (ONE FM) Number 1385226/1. PRA AMCOS (Australasian Performing Right Association Limited and Australasian Mechanical Copyright Owners Society) that covers Simulcasting and Online content including podcasts with musical content, that we pay every year. This licence number is 1385226/1.

Two threads that wove through all of last year for us: coming together in creative community in the face of looming climate disaster and reclaiming Appalachian murder ballads.Those might seem like radically different subjects, but the overlap – for us, at least – was using art to grow resilience in the face of grief. Especially with the climate disaster that was Helene hitting so many of our neighbors. This episode features interviews with musician Kristin Hersh (Throwing Muses), artist and climate organizer Denali Nalamalapu, Jason Duncan from the Wilkes County Historical Museum, and discussions with MidMountain Fellows Heather Adams, Sarah Gill, Katherine Fahey, Dan Van Allen, Becky Poole, Miriam Juliana, Elsa Howell, and Marie Anderson.This episode also featured a clip of the Kingston Trio's version of "Tom Dooley" and instrumentals from Betsy Podsiadlo's performance in Fatal Femme Agency during MidMountain Fest in October of 2024.This episode was produced with support from Mid Atlantic Arts' Central Appalachian Living Traditions Program.

Folk music does a great job of telling the stories of people of a particular time and place. That's likely why it had a resurgence in the 1950s and 60s during times of social and political unrest. On today's show we explore influential albums of the mid-century folk revival and of course sprinkle in plenty […]

One of the most influential bands in American music history performs Dec. 7 at Key West Theater.  The Kingston Trio, a legacy band that carries the torch for one of the most influential musical movements in modern history, blending calypso, folk, bluegrass and rock themes into the Americana mainstream, performs Saturday, Dec. 7 at the Key West Theater.Keys Weekly's Britt Myers and Mandy Miles catch up with the trio for the latest episode of the Florida Keys Weekly podcast. They discuss the band's historic feats of record-breaking hits and album sales; the Beatles opening for the trio and their influence on Bob Dylan and the folk revival of the early '60s. Many argue the Kingston Trio transformed modern American music alongside pioneers such as Elvis Presley, BB King and The Beach Boys — blending sounds and genres that forever changed how music was performed and marketed. Mike Marvin, Tim Gorelangton and Buddy Woodward represent the group today, performing hits like “Tom Dooley” and "MTA" while reminiscing with nostalgic stories of growing up around the original trio. Don't miss the podcast, which drops some breaking news (spoiler alert) on a potential upcoming Netflix miniseries on the Kingston Trio. Some tickets remain at thekeywesttheater.com.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Holidays were hard for Roger Samples in 1975.He was living alone, just him and Josephine the Cat rattling around on Mount Union Road where he was house-sitting for Susan and David Peyton. (As reported earlier, the Peyton family had left town for six months in Lafayette, Louisiana, where Dave was researching Cajun culture for his Alicia Paterson Foundation fellowship project.)Nonetheless, that autumn was a fertile one for Roger and the fledgling Flood. That's because every few days, Joe Dobbs would come by to jam with Rog; when he didn't, Charlie Bowen did. In those waning days of the year, life-long friendships were formed.Holiday AdoptionAs the holidays rolled in, though, the pickings got slim. Busy with Dobbs family affairs, Joe couldn't drop by as frequently. As a result, Roger starting spending many of his evenings at the Bowen house with Charlie and Pamela.“Y'all take in strays?” Roger asked the first night he appeared on their doorstep.“Come on in, buddy! Pull up a chair.”A new routine developed. Getting home from a day of teaching at Mason County's Hannah High School in Apple Grove, Rog would have supper with Charlie and Pamela, then he and Charlie broke out the guitars.That year Roger was even there to help decorate the Bowens' Christmas tree, stringing lights and hanging tinsel while they listened to the new albums by Jackson Browne and David Bromberg, Steve Goodman and John Prine.Pamela usually was the only audience for the tunes Roger and Charlie worked out in those last weeks of 1975, songs like this one, which she recorded in the Bowen living room on Nov. 28, the night after Thanksgiving.About the SongOne of the first things Charlie and Roger learned about each other was their shared love for Bob Dylan songs. For nearly a decade by then, both had been listening to Dylan discs and working up their own versions of his songs.Quickly they found they each had a rendition of “Tomorrow Is a Long Time” which they had heard a few years earlier on the 1971 release of Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Vol. II.Dylan wrote the song in 1962, including it as a demo for M. Witmark & Son, which became his publishing company at the time. (That particular track, incidentally, has long been available as a bootleg; so has an outtake from the June 1970 studio sessions for Bob's New Morning album.)Over the years, “Tomorrow Is a Long Time” has been covered by many Dylan friends and admirers. Most notably, Elvis Presley recorded it in the spring of 1966, appearing as a bonus track on his Spinout album.Elvis and OthersPresley was taken with the song after learning it from West Virginia's legendary harmonica player Charlie McCoy, who played it the previous year on Odetta's album Odetta Sings Dylan. Dylan has said Presley's cover of the song is "the one recording I treasure the most.”Besides Elvis and Odetta, others who have recorded the song include Joan Baez and Ian and Sylvia (1963), Judy Collins (1965), the Pozo-Seco Singers (1966), The Kingston Trio (1969), We Five and Glenn Yarbrough (1970), Rod Stewart (1971), Sandy Denny (1972).Stay TunedMeanwhile, if you enjoyed today's trek in the time machine, hang around. More of that late ‘75 vibe will be featured in a Flood Watch report next week, including a trio of Roger-and-Charlie originals and some vintage solos by fiddlin' Joe Dobbs. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com

Today's podcast features Nick Reynolds, one of the founding members of the Kingston Trio. They became known for their tight harmonies and lively stage presence. One of the trio's biggest hits was “Tom Dooley,” which was number one on the Billboard charts and earned them a Grammy Award. The Trio had many more hits, including “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” “Scotch and Soda,” and “Greenback Dollar.” Their music resonated with audiences of all ages, cementing their status as folk music legends. 

Music's most famous breakup in the late 20th century was surely the failed love affair of youngsters Suze Rotolo and Bob Dylan. Or at least it was the most productive parting on record.Following their split, 20-year-old Dylan wrote some his most plaintive songs of the era. “Don't Think Twice, It's All Right” and “Boots of Spanish Leather,” “Tomorrow is a Long Time” and “One Too Many Mornings, “Ballad in Plain D” and more were all clearly about Suze.One of the lesser known of Bob's breakup ballads from the same period was “Mama, You Been on My Mind.” EuropeIn mid-May 1964, Dylan completed a concert tour of England, afterward vacationing in France, Germany and Greece. During his ramble abroad, he wrote several songs for his upcoming album, Another Side of Bob Dylan.Then back in the States, he went into Columbia's Studio A and in a single night (June 9, 1964) he recorded 14 new songs, including one take of "Mama, You Been on My Mind.” When the album was released two months later, though, the song was not included. However, a few years later, “Mama, You Been on My Mind” became one of the earliest outtakes widely circulated on bootleg albums. The boots documented the two drafts of "Mama, You Been on My Mind" that Dylan wrote on notepaper from the May Fair Hotel where he had stayed in London during the tour.Dylan biographer Howard Sounes called it "one of the finest love songs he ever wrote.” Saying Dylan took responsibility for making a mess of his relationship with Rotolo, Sounes said the song showed Bob “could express himself with delicacy and maturity.”PerformancesIn concerts over the years, Dylan has performed the song hundreds of times, most notably in duets with his erstwhile post-Suze squeeze, Joan Baez. Their first duet was at Baez's concert at Forest Hills tennis stadium in Queens, NY, on Aug. 8, 1964. It was repeated a couple of months later, on Oct. 31, during Dylan's show at New York City's Philharmonic Hall. The two reprised their performance a decade later during Bob's 1975-76 Rolling Thunder Revue tour.Baez put a solo version — as “Daddy, You Been on My Mind” — on her 1965 Farewell, Angelina album.Meanwhile, the song has had some superstar coverage over the years, by the likes of Judy Collins and by Johnny Cash, by Rick Nelson and by George Harrison, by Linda Ronstadt and by Rod Stewart, and by everyone from The Kingston Trio to Dion and The Belmonts.Our Take on the TuneFlood founders Dave Peyton, Roger Samples and Charlie Bowen all started listening to the music of Bob Dylan 60 years ago, so it is little wonder that his songs are deeply woven in the band's fabric. Still today, whenever The Flood gets feeling folkie — as the guys were at this rehearsal a week or so ago — it's likely a Dylan tune will be the first to come to mind.Do More Dylan?Evidence of the band's delight in doing Dylan is the fact that one of the first special playlists created for the free Radio Floodango music streaming service a few years ago was this one done to celebrate Bobby's birthday. For more of The Flood's spin on Dylan tunes, give it a listen by clicking here. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com

Lead Belly to the Weavers to the Kingston Trio to Bob Dylan to the Fab Four. It's a fascinating journey..... --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/mark-owens2/support

durée : 00:58:35 - "It was a very good year" Ervin Drake (1961) - par : Laurent Valero - "En 1961, Ervin Drake compose et écrit "It Was a Very Good Year" à la demande du producteur Artie Mogull qui souhaitait que Bob Shane, membre du Kingston Trio la chante en solo, pour compléter le prochain album du groupe. Ce sera chose faite en moins d'une journée !" Laurent Valero

durée : 00:58:35 - "It was a very good year" Ervin Drake (1961) - par : Laurent Valero - "En 1961, Ervin Drake compose et écrit "It Was a Very Good Year" à la demande du producteur Artie Mogull qui souhaitait que Bob Shane, membre du Kingston Trio la chante en solo, pour compléter le prochain album du groupe. Ce sera chose faite en moins d'une journée !" Laurent Valero

Bobbie Childress Shane and Joshua Reynolds talk about life around and in the Kingston Trio.

Today's episode is as good as white bread. Covers by: The Kingston Trio, Terry Jacks, The Brothers Four, Me First And The Gimme Gimmes, Westlife, Alcazar Tidal playlist here

Aidan Baker with Richard Baker [00:25] "Western Salvia" Smudging Backwards BW06 2012 Remeber kids, friends don't let friends smudge with white sage. Dwarf Chorus [04:19] "Bluddle-Uddle-Um-Dum (The Washing Song)" Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Disneyland 1201 1968 Don't forget behind the ears

Executive producer Ed Yost talks with Tom Guard about his life with his father Dave Guard and the impact The Kingston Trio had on his life

MAY 16, 2024    Hour 3:  GOP attorneys general sue Biden administration and California over rules on gas-powered trucks - Guest: Buddy Woodward The Kingston Trio | Honor Flight Benefit - Family cabin reservations for Camp Fresno now available    KMJ's Afternoon Drive with Philip Teresi & E. Curtis Johnson   Weekdays 2-6PM Pacific on News/Talk 580 & 105.9 KMJ   Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and X   Listen to past episodes at kmjnow.com   Subscribe to the show on Apple, Spotify, or Amazon Music    Contact See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

MAY 16, 2024    Hour 3:  GOP attorneys general sue Biden administration and California over rules on gas-powered trucks - Guest: Buddy Woodward The Kingston Trio | Honor Flight Benefit - Family cabin reservations for Camp Fresno now available    KMJ's Afternoon Drive with Philip Teresi & E. Curtis Johnson   Weekdays 2-6PM Pacific on News/Talk 580 & 105.9 KMJ   Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and X   Listen to past episodes at kmjnow.com   Subscribe to the show on Apple, Spotify, or Amazon Music    Contact See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

JoMac finds himself in the jungles of Titan 4 with General Hanaka and his guard with a very uncertain future. Thornton and Scarlett are on their way to Kingston Ontario Canada to meet with a blood relative of Major Meredith's. Barnes and Sam follow McMillan on the streets of Annapolis. The Mercury team patrols Titan City looking for Hanaka and his guard.

Welcome to the Instant Trivia podcast episode 1170, where we ask the best trivia on the Internet. Round 1. Category: At The Bookstore 1: Kathryn Glasgow's first novel, "Another Song About the King", features a mom obsessed with this singer. Elvis Presley. 2: 2 men travel America with this man's brain in a Tupperware bowl in the true story "Driving Mr. Albert". Albert Einstein. 3: This prolific novelist proved her "metal" once again with her 2000 bestseller "The House on Hope Street". Danielle Steel. 4: "Dark Eagle" by historian John Ensor Harr is called "A Novel Of" this traitor "And the American Revolution". Benedict Arnold. 5: The front cover of "Hooking Up" by this "Bonfire of the Vanities" author shows his name but not the book's title. Tom Wolfe. Round 2. Category: Ends In Ola. With Ola in quotation marks 1: It's what you ride along the canals of Venice. a gondola. 2: It often includes rolled oats, wheat germ, honey, fruit and nuts. granola. 3: This early phonograph began cranking out music in 1906. a Victrola. 4: Italy's Lombardy region is famous for producing this soft (and smelly) blue cheese. Gorgonzola. 5: Haiti occupies a third of this island; the Dominican Republic covers the rest. Hispaniola. Round 3. Category: Classic Country 1: 1 of 3 original members of the Country Music Hall of Fame. (1 of) Hank Williams, Sr., Jimmie Rodgers and Fred Rose. 2: To make it as "A big star in the movies", Buck Owens said he had to "act" this way. naturally. 3: Lefty Frizzell told his honey, "If you've got the money, I've got" this. the time. 4: Migrants leaving this state's "Dust Bowl" helped bring country music to the West. Oklahoma. 5: In 1958, the first country music Grammy Award went to this Kingston Trio song. "Tom Dooley". Round 4. Category: The Last Word Said In Classic Films 1: "The Wizard of Oz". home. 2: "Gone with the Wind". day. 3: "Casablanca". friendship. 4: "King Kong", from 1933. beast. 5: "Apocalypse Now". Horror. Round 5. Category: Ute Tell Me. With Ute in quotation marks 1: To water down. dilute. 2: Drive in from the burbs. commute. 3: Hairy. hirsute. 4: In a proper one of these, the forefinger touches the hat just to the right of the right eye. salute. 5: Jekyll calls Hyde this type of rough fellow "that slept within me". brute. Thanks for listening! Come back tomorrow for more exciting trivia!Special thanks to https://blog.feedspot.com/trivia_podcasts/ AI Voices used

EP #123 - Mike Marvin - The Kingston Trio by Josh Reynolds

BONUS EP# 119 - Coffee Talk with Bobbie and Josh - The Kingston Trio by Josh Reynolds

Part 2 of Bobbie Childress Shane's interview with Don McClean. Don McClean continues his interview with Bobbie Childress Shane, and talks more about his love of The Kingston Trio and their influences on American music.

Part 2 of Ed Yost's interview with Dave Batti

Bobbie Childress Shane sits down to talk with Al Jardine of The Beach Boys to discuss how The Kingston Trio influenced his musical career as well as the intricacies of harmony singing.

Interview begins at 6:18.  To support FARHOF and learn more visit - www.farhof.org

Ed and I discuss my father, Nick Reynolds early years and his personality

Dave Batti - longtime friend of John Stewart and bandmate talks about life on the road with John how he got into music and how many years he has taught music to children. It's an amazing podcast. He talks about The Kingston Trio fantasy camp and he talks about a lot of things that I think that John Stewart fans will be interested in as well as what Dave Batti fans will be interested in.

The Folk Mafia #115 - Dave Woodruff - The Kingston Trio by Josh Reynolds

The Folk Mafia #116 - John Wroble - The Kingston Trio by Josh Reynolds

The Folk Mafia Episode #113 Don McLean Part 1 - The Kingston Trio by Josh Reynolds

Ari teaches norm about a group that is different from the others they've discussed in a couple of ways--it's made up of (North) Americans, and hasn't even officially debuted yet--VCHA. Also reactions to FIFTY FIFTY songs (but mostly just that one), and references to old person things including Alvin and the Chipmunks and the Kingston Trio. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this part two episode of two, Bobbie, Childress Shane tell some of the great stories of The Kingston Trio this is one you should not miss straight from the person who knows the real stories

John Gilmore, the son of Voyle Gilmore, the famous producer, who did all The Kingston Trio‘s best albums, as well as Sinatra the Beatles and many more great Capitol Records recordings, tells more stories of The Trio. This is much more of a Kingston Trio centric episode and there's some great stories in here from John.

Like many people we have heard on Unstoppable Mindset, Tessa Lynne Alburn had some challenges growing up. She frankly discusses them especially issues she had with her parents who, as she describes it, did not really understand how to give her the kind of love she wanted and needed. This is no criticism as she points out, but simply the way things were. She also talks about a near-drowning experience and how that affected her and her attitude for years.   With all her challenges she did finish high school and then went to college.   Tessa loves many sporting activities and, for a time, she was a musician. She learned to play the flute and to sing. She says she still uses singing today sometimes with clients.   Today Tessa lives in Steamboat Springs Colorado where she has a successful coaching business helping women to learn and gain confidence. She helps them to learn to discover themselves and to become better in the world. She will tell us some stories of how she has helped women to learn how to be better and more progressive leaders, especially in a world that doesn't always appreciate what white bright intelligent women can and do bring to the table.     About the Guest:   Tessa Lynne Alburn is a Feminine Energy Coach and Soul Connection Mentor for Women seeking to having their voice, living a lifestyle of freedom and joy, and reconnecting with the Divine.   Tessa's mission is to help women bring themselves and their ideas and their voice into the world and becoming personally powerful as a co-creator.   With a background in SCUBA instruction, energy healing and decades of experience leading live and virtual events, Tessa works with you to create the life you truly want as you maintain your important relationships, while also saying “yes” to your soul.   Tessa is intuitive, compassionate and unexpected. Her favorite past-times include hiking, solo SCUBA diving, and star-gazing. Her passions for life and learning, her interest in culture and adventures have taken her both abroad and to 38 US States.   Her top 4 values are beauty, variety, spirituality and compassion.     Ways to connect with Tessa:   Say YES to Your Soul podcast: https://www.sayyestoyoursoulpodcast.com/   https://www.facebook.com/TessaAlburn @tessaalburn https://www.linkedin.com/in/tessaalburn   https://www.instagram.com/realizedsoulwithtessa/ and @realizedsoulwithtessa      Tessa's Free Gift If you want to be happier and more courageous in life, get your free info sheet here and Say Yes to Your Soul! http://www.tessafreegift.com/     About the Host: Michael Hingson is a New York Times best-selling author, international lecturer, and Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe. Michael, blind since birth, survived the 9/11 attacks with the help of his guide dog Roselle. This story is the subject of his best-selling book, Thunder Dog.   Michael gives over 100 presentations around the world each year speaking to influential groups such as Exxon Mobile, AT&T, Federal Express, Scripps College, Rutgers University, Children's Hospital, and the American Red Cross just to name a few. He is Ambassador for the National Braille Literacy Campaign for the National Federation of the Blind and also serves as Ambassador for the American Humane Association's 2012 Hero Dog Awards.   https://michaelhingson.com https://www.facebook.com/michael.hingson.author.speaker/ https://twitter.com/mhingson https://www.youtube.com/user/mhingson https://www.linkedin.com/in/michaelhingson/   accessiBe Links https://accessibe.com/ https://www.youtube.com/c/accessiBe https://www.linkedin.com/company/accessibe/mycompany/ https://www.facebook.com/accessibe/       Thanks for listening! Thanks so much for listening to our podcast! If you enjoyed this episode and think that others could benefit from listening, please share it using the social media buttons on this page. Do you have some feedback or questions about this episode? Leave a comment in the section below!   Subscribe to the podcast If you would like to get automatic updates of new podcast episodes, you can subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts or Stitcher. You can also subscribe in your favorite podcast app.   Leave us an Apple Podcasts review Ratings and reviews from our listeners are extremely valuable to us and greatly appreciated. They help our podcast rank higher on Apple Podcasts, which exposes our show to more awesome listeners like you. If you have a minute, please leave an honest review on Apple Podcasts.     Transcription Notes   Michael Hingson ** 00:00 Access Cast and accessiBe Initiative presents Unstoppable Mindset. The podcast where inclusion, diversity and the unexpected meet. Hi, I'm Michael Hingson, Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe and the author of the number one New York Times bestselling book, Thunder dog, the story of a blind man, his guide dog and the triumph of trust. Thanks for joining me on my podcast as we explore our own blinding fears of inclusion unacceptance and our resistance to change. We will discover the idea that no matter the situation, or the people we encounter, our own fears, and prejudices often are our strongest barriers to moving forward. The unstoppable mindset podcast is sponsored by accessiBe, that's a c c e s s i  capital B e. Visit www.accessibe.com to learn how you can make your website accessible for persons with disabilities. And to help make the internet fully inclusive by the year 2025. Glad you dropped by we're happy to meet you and to have you here with us.   Michael Hingson ** 01:21 Well welcome everyone to another episode of unstoppable mindset. I'm your host, Mike Hingson. And today we have Tessa Lynne Alburn. Tessa for short. And we're really glad to hear Tessa is in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, we are a little jealous. Not too because I don't mind being in Victorville, although it's still not on the water or anything like that, like, like other places get to be. But But nevertheless, we cope with what we have. So Tessa really glad that you're here on unstoppable mindset with us today.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 01:53 I'm really glad to be here, Michael. Thank you.   Michael Hingson ** 01:57 Well, thanks for for having us, in your home and with you. And I'm going to have to learn all about this idea that you describe yourself as a feminine energy coach and other things we'll get to that. But why don't you start by telling us a little bit about the earlier Tessa? And where, where you came from what you did, and all your deep, dark secrets that you think we ought to know. And we won't tell   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 02:19 us? Yes, I might have to filter a few. But where's the   Michael Hingson ** 02:23 fun in that? Typically,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 02:24 the early days, I would say, you know, I was most people wouldn't guess this knowing me now. But I was very shy and introverted. And I was in a dysfunctional home, where my dad chose to work night shifts and things like that, or in other states whenever possible. So he was, you know, just unavailable or had escaped us in some way. And my mother had some emotional issues, and she would be what I would call a rageaholic. From time to time, she was she had a number of borderline attributes. And so, growing up, I was very scared. And doing that thing that they call walking on eggshells, right, like, when is the volcano going to explode? That sort of thing will get ready to run, you know, you just didn't quite know what was going to happen. That's okay. Yeah, I did okay, in school, because I was able to focus all my attention there, and, and then keep myself safe by being the smartest I could be and as perfect as I could be and be a good girl. So that's how I coped with it.   Michael Hingson ** 03:32 Did you have siblings?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 03:34 I had one younger sibling, three years younger than I was. And at first, it started out great, you know, I was sort of like helping to take care of her and nurturing her. And then pretty soon it became a competitive thing. And so we had a rough patch from like, you know, one, two, when I was almost 20 years old. And she, she had gone overseas with a rotary exchange program. And when she came back, it was like talking with a different person entirely. It was so great. Yeah. Because she'd been out of the household, number one and live with a really loving family. And she'd been exposed to an entirely different culture. She lived in Sweden for a year. And so she gathered this worldly sense about her. And when she came back, she was like, Oh, I kind of get you now. You know, like, we can be compatible. And so we kissed and made up.   Michael Hingson ** 04:38 Wow. So you guys get along? Well, still.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 04:42 We do. She's a dear person, and we live many miles away from one another. But she has two amazing kids and a wonderful husband and and she's got his whole family over there. And so everybody's very supportive and loving. Where do they live? They're in Maryland.   Michael Hingson ** 05:01 That's a little. That's eastern Colorado,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 05:03 right? Not Colorado. Exactly. East of Colorado.   Michael Hingson ** 05:09 Maryland is just eastern Colorado, just like California is western Colorado. Right?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 05:14 Exactly. He's on a little place called the Magath the river. So she gets to be near water. And it's quite lovely over there.   Michael Hingson ** 05:23 So do you have husband children or any of those kinds of things?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 05:26 I do not. I am. happily single.   Michael Hingson ** 05:32 Someone has to keep the trend, right.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 05:34 Yes. Um, although I do entertain the idea of relationship   Michael Hingson ** 05:37 someday. Yeah, we'll see how that goes. That's right.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 05:41 I just have so many things on my plate. Like in terms of why I'm here, I feel like, you know, my sole purpose. And my sole mission is actually the number one thing in my life. So I'm happy about that.   Michael Hingson ** 05:53 My wife and I got married in our early 30s. And we just hadn't found the right persons for each other. And we didn't know each other. We met in January of 1982. And we were married in November of 1982. But we immediately hit it off. And we knew that we found soulmates and the right the right people. And so it clearly was sort of the right choice, because we live together until she passed away last November. So we were married for two years. And, you know, but you're right. It's got to be the right person. And you've got to, you got to know that and you'll know it when it happens if it happens.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 06:29 Exactly. And I feel like you know, spirit will definitely knock me on the shoulders tapped me on the shoulders. If If and when that person comes in, right.   Michael Hingson ** 06:40 Yeah. So, so you Where are you from originally?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 06:46 Originally? I am from the state of Florida. Okay, fine state.   Michael Hingson ** 06:52 Yeah. The humidity state?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 06:55 Yes, that's a little more accurate, isn't it?   Michael Hingson ** 06:59 I'm a fan of the old folk group, the Kingston Trio and they have a song called the Everglades and one of the lines is if the Gators don't get you than the Skeeters will.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 07:08 Oh, my goodness, that's hysterical. I don't remember that song. But I do remember the Kingston Trio. And yes, it's it is true. The gators or maybe the snakes?   Michael Hingson ** 07:19 Well, there's after the snakes as well. Yeah, the Gators snakes and Skeeters. They're all there. That's That's true. So did you go to school and stay in Florida? Or how long were you guys there?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 07:32 I did not. We, my dad worked for McDonnell Douglas. And so we had this lifestyle of moving around to different missile sites and things and always coming back for a number of years coming back to the Cape Canaveral area. And so my last year of school, I, I went to junior high and Florida and Mississippi, came back to Florida, went to high school for a year then went up to New York state for a year and then to Pennsylvania for a year so that my high school and junior high was just a real journey in adaptability.   Michael Hingson ** 08:09 What was that? Like?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 08:10 It was intense. Yeah. Now, I think one of the fun things that I remember is when I was younger, in Florida, I had a best friend that was from Georgia. So I had a real southern drawl, just kind of like her. And when I moved up to New York State, I was definitely kind of a standout person and people didn't know what to think of me. Maybe they thought I was dumb at first, but they figured out I wasn't and I learned to drop that accent most of the time. You don't hear it from me, but it I do think of that kind of fondly. Because some of my my teachers were like, oh, that's special. Let's hear that y'all. Y'all   Michael Hingson ** 08:49 know. All y'all and yes.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 08:53 So the moving moving was a kind of an intensity in our family.   Michael Hingson ** 08:57 That must have been fun. Do you have any analysis of how that affected you? Yes. made you a gypsy?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 09:12 Yes. Well, now I'm a nomadic Gypsy, digital nomad, a bohemian Gypsy, whatever you want to call it. And at first I was resisting that urge to wander and be in different places. And then I realized I had the skills so along with the heartache of being torn away from friends with no time to have closure or transition constantly, and my youth suddenly coming home and be like, pack up your room. We're moving next week. And you know, coming home from like summer camp, and it's just shocking, right? Especially at that age where we're one is developing the Um, hormones for boys and like relationships with older boys in the high school and that sort of thing. And I was just kind of getting a first year of popularity and then boom are gone again. And then I'm nobody. So it was like popular no one or no one too popular or now I gotta work my way back up. And then I've got to hang out with cool kids and I got to hang out in the girls room and smoke cigarettes to fit in or skip school and play hooky and be bad, you know. So there were a lot of influences that happened as a result of moving. And I think the one thing that it did help with at home was kept me kind of out of my mom's hair. So there was, I was able to feel a little more powerful when I started to rebel. But there was definitely a big rebellion that happened. When it was totally necessary for me to start to feel safe. And like I had any kind of purchase in this life.   Michael Hingson ** 10:57 Did you have any real major trauma traumatic kinds of things that happened to you as a child as so many, many kids do?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 11:04 Yes, yes. And so many do. And I think most of the time, we don't know that about the people all around us. And sometimes it's hard to hear those things. But yes, I had, I had a number of things, but I'll say the the main one, one of the big ones that I didn't realize how it was impacting me too much later in life was a near drowning event. And that was in Florida. And as you might well imagine, you know, it was very swampy, dark water grassy with alligators and and snapping turtles and you know, creepy, creepy, weird fish called Mud puppies, and things you just don't want to come in contact with. And I was sweeping the dock off. We used to go visit friends of ours who had this little cabin out in this underdeveloped area off of little a Kara's, it's probably super developed now, but back then it wasn't. And you took your boat and you went along the canals to go to the little fishing tackle store and get your milk. And that was it, you brought everything else with you. And there were just fields and fields of tall grasses, probably filled with all kinds of critters. And and the dock was just kind of basic, it didn't have a railing or anything. We used to just have the little skiff and we would go out fly fishing and things like that. And I was about nine years old then. And we went there in wintertime. So I had on all these sweaters this big, I'll never forget that I had this one huge hand knitted sweater that was probably a half inch thick. But just because of all the yarn that was used to make it, I was wearing that and sweeping off the dock. And I got vertigo, as I didn't realize at the time that I had a vertigo problem. And so I was there I was sweeping. And then I just my head just spun and spun. And I just tipped over and fell. And I was a good swimmer. So nobody had ever thought of, well, we have to keep the kids and life jackets or anything like that, because we were all really comfortable in the water. But when I hit the water, it was very, very cold. And I just dissociated, I'm pretty sure that would be a psychological term that happened. Where I, I had a consciousness that was like, Oh, I have to get out of here. But I was so cold, I could barely it felt like I could barely move. And then all the weight of the winter clothing on me was just dragging me down. And it was dragging me down to the bottom of the canal. And they're they're built deep. You know, they're like, I don't know, 12 to 15 feet deep, those canals. That's a lot for a little kid. And the only thing that kept me coming up that I felt like was really driving me on was the terror of the icky things down there.   Michael Hingson ** 14:16 I don't want to get to the bottom of that canal.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 14:18 Exactly like the month no. And I would kind of I felt like I was pushing up. I don't know if I really reached the bottom and I was not fully conscious. But I felt like I was just struggling to get to the top get to the top and then I get this little gasp of air and then I'd sink more and then I'd do the same thing over and over. And I could feel the every now and then I could feel the underneath of the top of the dock. There was nothing to hold on to Yeah. And I just kept going under fortunately, oh fortunately an angel a couple of angels were there. And one of them was my little play friend who was couple years younger than me in He saw that I was in the water and he plan to shock. And so it was like, ah you know Harry's My name is Terry at the time Terry's in the water, Terry Phelan Terry fell, and he's like whispering it. But fortunately, his dad was up on a ladder, about 30 feet away. And he finally got mad. And he's like, he was old salt, Donald. And he saw me splashing, I guess, and he just leapt off that ladder, and came down and yanked me out. And yeah, I was safe. Yeah. Although extremely stunned for at least 24 hours.   Michael Hingson ** 15:44 Yeah. What do you think you learn from that, um, as you as you developed? If you were to put a positive thing out, I mean, it was certainly traumatic. And there's, we could talk about that a lot, I'm sure. But what what positive? Did you learn from that? Do you think?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 16:02 Well, couple things. I mean, a couple of practical thing is, we all need love and comfort. And one of the things I didn't get at the time was that and so later in my life, I realized I was having kind of like this dread, that the creepy things were gonna get me and that I was gonna suffocate. And I needed to heal that. So I learned that one can heal that. And I think that's been really powerful for me, because growing up the way that I did, I had felt like a victim most of the time. But when I realized I could do something about it, I can actually heal the psychological scars, and take action and get, even if it was, however many years 3030 plus years later, I could still get the healing that I needed. And resolve that in myself, so that the psychological impact didn't have to keep moving forward with me. From then on.   Michael Hingson ** 17:09 How did she figure that out?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 17:11 Well, the hard way. Because I kind of hit rock bottom, what happened was I I went traveling, and I went to Costa Rica, and I was without enough friends. For too long when I was there. And I remember taking, I was asked to kind of look after this person's hostel while they went on vacation. And when they were gone, I was just so sad. And I felt like I was gonna die. And I was like, What is going on ma'am? And beautiful Costa Rica. You know, there's snorkeling here. It's like everything I wanted for this idea of this trip that I had taken. And then suddenly, I was depressed. And then I had this connection. In my mind, I just kind of saw this connection, that somehow the fear of death when I was underwater, was connected to my thought that I was gonna die or that I needed to die. And I was like, That is no good. Right?   Michael Hingson ** 18:19 And you hadn't let go?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 18:22 I did. Yeah. I hadn't been able to resolve the psychological trauma and the emotional trauma or the physical. And so I went about healing and a variety of ways. And I'll tell you one of the ones that cinched it for me, I did a number of things, and they were all good, and they all helped. But the thing that finally cleared it was something called ar e t, rapid eye therapy. And it's kind of like EMDR. So there's a stimulus to your eyes, as you recall certain parts of the story. And then basically you retell the story to yourself in a way that's empowering, that gives another meaning to the event. And the power for men comes in and kind of clears your cells and clears your memory and gives you a second memory. And it's a really can be a beautiful process. So I'm really, really grateful to all the practitioners who've helped me over the years. And that was a big, big turning point for me. And it also gave me the ability to hold that space for others when they're going through something really deep and dark.   Michael Hingson ** 19:40 I gather you didn't get a lot of support from your your parents after you fell in the water. Correct? Yeah, they saw unfortunate.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 19:51 Yes. It was unfortunate but you know, they really did do the best that they could. It just wasn't when I need it,   Michael Hingson ** 20:00 yeah, yeah. Well, and, and it's great that you are able to, to recognize that now. And it sounds like you're not angry at them, because they were who they were. And there's nothing we can do about other people like that. I mean, like that, not people like that, but rather people who have those characteristics and traits or any characteristics and traits, we all make our own choices.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 20:29 Absolutely. Part of me wants to laugh when you say like you never, you know, I don't get mad at them. Right. Because occasionally I do still, but not.   Michael Hingson ** 20:38 But but not for that. But yeah. But you're able to deal with things and move on. I understand Absolutely.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 20:44 Right, like accepting them that would, given who they were in the lives they had. And of course, I learned more and more about them as I grew up. I came to understand that they literally just didn't have the capacity wasn't that they didn't want to help me. Yeah. Yeah. They just short circuited. They didn't know how to do that. Yeah, exactly. Yeah. So they yelled at me get in bed that was never talked about it again. And dry   Michael Hingson ** 21:11 off. Exactly. Are dry up. But anyway, either way. Well, so did you. Yeah. Well, anyway. So did you go off to college after high school?   21:24 I did   Michael Hingson ** 21:25 want to go do that.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 21:27 I was able to go to a music university in the state of Pennsylvania, where I studied flute and voice and I was a big fish in a little pond.   Michael Hingson ** 21:39 Wow, there you go. I've read. Have you ever read the book. It's called David and Goliath. It's written by the gentleman who wrote the tipping point. Gladstone, Gladstone. And one of the things he talks about in there are people who make the wrong choices of going to college. They think it's important to go to Harvard and all that. And when they get there to discover their or any of the big schools, they discovered their very little fish in a very huge pond. Whereas if they would go to other schools, and then he gave some examples of people who did that, although it wasn't necessarily their intent, they ended up being pretty big fish and much littler ponds and got a much better education, and college experience. As a result.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 22:29 I have no doubt that that's true for many, many people. Of course, there's going to be the the stars, the people who rise to the surface right away and get the attention and all the support that they need in this big schools. But in a smaller school, you can carve your way through like a little more stylized for yourself, or customize or get the attention that you need in certain areas. And I was able to do that in certain ways. I had the complete attention of my flute teacher who really taught me taught me amazing things about playing the flute. And I had the opportunity to solo a lot in all the ensembles and choirs and all all of that. So that gave me a lot of grounding and actual performance and musicianship,   Michael Hingson ** 23:19 do you still play the flute?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 23:21 Only on occasion, but I do still sing now. Yes, my style has now shifted to kind of a sound healing style. So I do use it sometimes with clients. And what I would call it I don't know if you're familiar with this. Sometimes I receive kind of like a channeling of light language. And so the words don't necessarily make any sense. But the tones and the sounds that come through are very healing for the people that they come through for.   Michael Hingson ** 23:55 I occasionally do karaoke. That's as close as I go. There   Michael Hingson ** 23:58 you go. That's pretty healing. I do a mean Mack the Knife. What can I say? The show? Yeah. And a few others like that. But Threepenny Opera. Wonderful.   Michael Hingson ** 24:13 There you go, but it's fun, you know, and then it's intended to be fun. I've also heard at a few karaoke places, people who really do need to keep their day jobs, but that's okay.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 24:26 I would tell you, I'm terrible at karaoke. I don't know what happens. I start to freeze up. It's so strange. I guess I'm so used to being a performer. Yeah, it's hard for me to just like, do something spontaneous and have to be relying on the words and the weird sound that's coming through the speakers at a bar, you know, with funny echoes and all of that, but that's cool that you do what's best for   Michael Hingson ** 24:51 me for me. I need to know the words in advance. So I press the screen so I did pretty well. With it, it's fun.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 25:02 So how do you so do you pick your songs ahead of time and then tell the DJ what you want?   Michael Hingson ** 25:06 Yeah, they usually give people a choice of, or at least the places I've been to, I can choose what I want to sing. So I'll tell them in advance, which works out well. Otherwise, I what I have never tried is standing up with a song that I don't really know. And having somebody whispering the words to me, and that might work. But we had to work out we'd have to really work out the timing of doing it. So it's an experiment worth trying some time.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 25:33 Yes, that could be interesting. I could sort of see you with an earpiece, right. And they're like, like, you're like a covert spy. Yeah. And they're whispering in your ear saying, This singing like this?   Michael Hingson ** 25:45 Or at least telling me the words, you know? Yes. And I do I do a good version of 16 tons by Tennessee, Ernie Ford. But the problem with me doing 16 tons is I cheat. I've also heard there's a duo Homer and Jethro, who used to really do play offs on Country and Western stuff. And they, they were they, they did parodies of everything. So their course to 16 tons goes, you load 16 tons. How do you feel too tired to work or too scared to steal St. Peter, don't you call on me today? Because I'm a dick in the other way. So I always have to put that in there somewhere. Oh, my goodness. Yeah. You know, there's no sense. Not having fun with it.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 26:31 Exactly. I find is, is an essential part of life. Like, if we're not going to have fun. What's the point?   Michael Hingson ** 26:39 Exactly. So what did you do after college? After   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 26:44 college?   Michael Hingson ** 26:45 I must have done something. Oh, yes,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 26:47 of course. My first wonder place was to go to New York City.   Michael Hingson ** 26:53 Ah, and what year was that? That would have been 1980. Okay, so you were well, prior to the World Trade Center not being there. So yeah, the skyline? Did you see King Kong up on the building or any of those things?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 27:07 Oh, oh, gosh, the days it was, you know, the full throttle, Big Apple just everything booming. And it was pre aids, also. Yeah. Right. Like, I mean, that was starting to happen. But no, the word wasn't out yet. And I was in the city when that hit. Note became a thing. And, of course, there were a lot of people in my circle, a lot of men who were, you know, very affected by that stare and work through it in some way. And then there was kind of a new age awakening in the city. And I was so grateful. I got to go to Lincoln Center when Eric and Olga Butterworth were there. And what a speaker he is, and then she led the guided meditations. Wow. And it was just phenomenal. You would just sit in your chair and be transported, you know, suddenly, all the whole rooms was like, filled with light I fought. And you know, I'm transported to some wonderful loving place, I had a huge impact on me, and my spiritual life. And then there was a singer. His name was Steven something. I'm gonna forget what his last name was. And he was a tenor. And he was amazing. And so he would say, you know, every, every week, he would do some solo that would just knock your socks off.   Michael Hingson ** 28:32 Yeah. Yeah. I mean, there's nothing like New York. And I think that is still true. Although there's obviously been a lot of change, but there's nothing like New York. Nothing like it. That's true. We enjoyed going to Broadway, especially musicals. And of course, nothing like seeing a musical on Broadway. One of your favorites. Well, Phantom of the Opera was clearly one of the ones that we love. We my wife and I went to see it three times. Chicago was another one. I saw The Music Man, I think a couple times. That's one of my favorites of all times movie or musical. That's fabulous. Yeah, we actually saw Rebecca lucar as Marian in well, it was before we moved down here. So is it like 2000 or maybe early 2001. And I learned that she died from ALS in 2020. And I had seen her perform the year before just online somewhere. But that was pretty sad. Probably though one of my favorite all times is we got to see Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane and the producers.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 29:44 Oh, no kidding. Oh, that would have been fun.   Michael Hingson ** 29:47 It was better than the movie even but, but it was a lot of fun. Yeah, as I said, there's nothing like New York.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 29:55 Nothing at all. And there's also nothing like your mom embarrassing you in the theater either when she asked the star for their signature or when you're stuck on an elevator with them. We got so embarrassed, but   Michael Hingson ** 30:12 I can't give her credit for her though she had the courage to do it. That's okay. Exactly. And did she get the signature? She did. There you go see? So what are you complaining about?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 30:21 Exactly? I just remember like, oh, no, you're not supposed to do that. Because New Yorkers were all uptight, you know? Yeah, cool.   Michael Hingson ** 30:29 We went to see the Lion King and my niece. Well, our Karen's brother and his wife. And our niece, who was three at the time went with us to see the Lion King. And we got in because there was a friend of Gary's Karen's brother, who knew some of the actors and got us tickets. And so we're in there, as it as it started, of course, the music and everything is wonderful. And then the hyenas came in and what they do to make their entrances, they come in from the top of the theater, walking down the aisles, growling as they go by. And one of them got right up to Karen course, Karen sitting there in a wheelchair accessible seat or space in her wheelchair. This hyena comes right up to her and goes, you never saw a woman who is a paraplegic suddenly jump and almost hit the ceiling was amazing. But afterward, we got to go behind the scenes. And Alana, our three year old niece, just had, as Karen describes the eyes as big as saucers, with all the animals and everything during the play. And then we went behind the scenes, and we got to beat Mustapha, and some of the other other people. And Karen even said, they did such a good job on the design that you forget that those are people who are working those puppets,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 31:48 which is magical, then when that happens? Yeah, it   Michael Hingson ** 31:52 was. So you went to New York, and you had fun there. And you've you've wandered a bunch, you said, you have a wanderlust spirit. And I have   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 32:00 I left I left New York in the late 80s. And came out west to California and spent 15 years in LA and Santa Monica went up to northern California. And somewhere in between all of that I was also on tour in a band. And yeah, so I went to a bunch of different states and sang in Louisiana, at the no name saloon. And in Hobbs, New Mexico, all kinds of fun places, Missouri, and we had a an Elvis impersonator. And it was, you know, the time of my life, enjoying that, and just really getting to see a lot of different towns meet a lot of different people. And eventually   Michael Hingson ** 32:48 doing Oh, go ahead.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 32:49 Yeah, no, just eventually winding up following more of a soul path than a talent path.   Michael Hingson ** 32:56 Okay? Because I was gonna say you're not doing the band, essentially. Right. So what do you do now?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 33:04 Well, I am a feminine energy mastery coach for women. So I help them learn how to express their voices and their true selves in a feminine way, so that they're heard and understood. So they don't have to over masculine eyes, you know, to be heard or right or be the loudest voice in the room, or the smartest voice in the room, they can just be themselves. So I help them with that. And I do what I would call soul coaching, which is helping helping people to understand more the messages of their soul, and what their gifts are their innate gifts, not necessarily their talents, although a talent could be connected to it. But it's like something that comes from deep within, you know, like, behind their heart. It's like the spark that creates all of them. And so I help might help somebody say, find their purpose, or create greater abundance, but it's always going to be through that lens of the soul and the values, the high values that come with your soul.   Michael Hingson ** 34:17 Tell me if you would some examples of what that means. Some people may be who, whose gifts you help them discover and what kind of gifts you found and so on. I'm fascinated by it, and I absolutely respect what you do. Although, if if I have to say so not trying to be too bigoted women, I find her oftentimes a whole heck of a lot smarter than men. Anyway, my wife was always smarter than me. So you'll you'll always find me   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 34:48 that you are a very smart man for thinking that and saying that especially she   Michael Hingson ** 34:51 was always ahead of me on so many things. And I mean, there were times I was ahead, but it just was the way it was. and I respected that and loved it right from the outset. So it's one of the things that I miss and valued so much when when she was here, there's so many examples of that. But anyway, so what are some examples of gifts and so on that you've helped people discover?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 35:17 Well, people sometimes find themselves like in jobs, where they're like, Oh, I'm good at this thing. But then they start pushing at the edges of the job box. And they find themselves maybe in an uncomfortable position, because they have bigger ideas. They're like, Oh, this could happen with us. And this could happen with that. And usually, those are the kinds of people I work with, because they do have a brilliance beyond what is recognize, typically. And sometimes it causes ruffles. Like, say, for example, I had a client, who was a consultant and was ruffling feathers, because she was brilliant. And there was jealousy, and there's this and there's that. And then there's some people that just they don't know how to handle it. And they're like, We don't, we don't know what to do with all your ideas. So we're just gonna shut you down, right. So that person eventually like, either wears out or gets sick, or just starts to think there's something really wrong with them. And maybe they start, you know, escaping going on a lot of vacations, or drinking too much, or eating bad foods, or whatever it is. And if they come to me, and we work together, what what happens is they discover that they've got a bigger vision for humanity, than what that particular role was allowing them to express. Right, so they might learn that they're a visionary, they might suddenly realize that they're going to start a project, you know, for some fiber, one, three, C, that's going to change the world, you know, create water for villages in Africa, or whatever the idea is. But the problem was that they're just told that you don't fit in and you have to quiet down and etc. But when they really understand that it's coming from a much deeper, truer place, this this propensity, that they have to push against those boundaries. And instead of making themselves wrong, they realize and learn how to connect to the universe's calling to the greater cosmic forces that are actually there to support them, then they become freed up, to be themselves to express themselves to ask for what they need to get to the sport to get the financial support, whatever it is, and they they become empowered.   Michael Hingson ** 37:53 Sometimes, do you help them recognize that maybe rather than just trying to continue to say ideas, because they're very enthusiastic about what they do that strategically, being a little bit more patient may be helpful, or does that enter into it?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 38:09 Well, sometimes Absolutely, yeah. So they usually go through phases, they'll go through a phase first, where they've been super patient, not saying anything, they might not even believe their ideas are that great. And then they're like, wait a second, I see the solutions here. And then they try to speak up, but they don't know who to go to. And they don't understand how the corporation works. So that's where often where patients can pay off. But they also need to know that they're not just like in a waiting room somewhere. Right? Right. Right. Yeah, they need a plan. They need to know Yes, Patience is important. But there are also moves they could be making that would fit that would be acceptable. And to not give up when they're in the waiting room, but to keep going and taking steps toward their dream,   Michael Hingson ** 39:00 maybe being a little bit more strategic about part of the process. Absolutely. Yeah. And I think men and women, I think women probably tend to express emotions more and men think that they shouldn't, which is unfortunate, but I think people in general, so often never learned how to be strategic and what they do.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 39:25 That's true. I think so many of us women in particular, do seem to have a bent towards perfectionism, because that's what got them accepted, right in the family system and then in schools or wherever. And we still see it today. Like if you watch some of these reality shows, you'll see that like a man will do a certain behaviors say a certain thing. A women woman will do the exact same thing and get just like you're a bench or a witch. Yeah. Big bright judgments. And so there's a way that we can present that and communicate, you know, to connect with other people first, rather than just like showing up with all these big ideas, because we have to know are these people ready to hear it?   Michael Hingson ** 40:19 Yeah. And unfortunately, our society still says we're going to be much more ready to hear it from a man than a woman, even though oftentimes, women are going to give the smarter and more in depth idea. And it happens all too often. And it is unfortunate that women are so often shut down.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 40:43 Yes, and they can do something about it. And it's not beating a drum. And it's not making other people wrong. It's finding a better way to communicate, and a better way to connect first, to have your one's ideas heard. And may it may even involve presentational skills or leadership skills, right, that we don't necessarily learn. Nobody taught us. Right. Right, we have been in that position before. And they're doing pretty well, because they're figuring it out as they go. But sometimes we actually need those skills to take us to the next level. So the idea can be heard. Yeah.   Michael Hingson ** 41:20 And it's a matter of learning how to, to make that process work. And you know, I know that, that there are any number of people with disabilities blind and otherwise who are in the same boat, that we may have very good idea, though, but you're blind, how could you possibly know? And we see it way too often. Because we've got too many people who are just locked into stereotypes, which is so unfortunate.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 41:47 For a flip, then going to the other extreme, oh, they're blind, maybe they can help with this hearing project. Making assumptions, right. I know, I'm sure I've been guilty of something like that in my past, but I think more and more people are making an effort to do something and be more equitable. But yes, I mean, you've you've really been through it.   Michael Hingson ** 42:10 Yeah, it's it's a matter of really keeping it in perspective. And, you know, when something doesn't work out, right, it's important to step back and look at it. What's the problem? What can I do to make it better next time. And so often, we don't take time to analyze what we do right and wrong in the course of any given day. Oh, we don't have time for that. Well, it's always time. It's a matter of priority.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 42:37 I love that. Yes, absolutely. Just taking a few minutes at the end of every day, a few minutes in the morning, right? Yes, yeah, digest, reflect and be responsible for what we did.   Michael Hingson ** 42:53 You know, it gets back to meditation and slowing down and listening to what there is to be offered. We just don't do that nearly as much as we ought to.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 43:03 What kind of meditation Do you like to do, Michael?   Michael Hingson ** 43:07 Well, I've learned Transcendental Meditation. And I do that some, and sometimes I just slow down and stop at the end of the day. And I look inward. And don't try to make any decisions. Don't try to think about anything specific. But as thoughts come up, I'll look at them, especially if it's about what went on during the day. And what can I learn from it? I've learned over the years that one of the worst things that I used to say until literally fairly recently, as I'm my own worst critic, I always listen to speeches when I travel and speak and talk about September 11, or trust and teamwork, or the human animal bond or whatever. And I've been traveling and doing this for almost 22 years now since September 11. I always record my speeches, and I go back and listen to them. And I've said to people, I do it because I'm my own worst critic. And if I can decide something from that, then that's great. What I've learned is wrong thing to say, I'm my own best teacher, because the reality is, I'm the only one that can really teach me. Teachers can offer information, but I need to be the one to teach me and learn it. And so I've learned that the poor positive approach is the right one. I'm my own best teacher. And so I like to look at what goes on in the course of the day. And look at it from the standpoint of a teaching experience. I do agree there's no such thing as failure. It's all about being learning experiences.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 44:38 It absolutely is. And I love that you ask that question. So you're not saying Well, what did I do wrong today? Or what was bad about that? You're saying, Oh, can I learn from this? Yeah, right. That's that's what I would call a quality question.   Michael Hingson ** 44:52 What didn't work right, from my perspective, and did it really not work right or is it me? And if it didn't work, right, what do I do? Next time, I could end up in that same situation, and I think those are fair questions, and we can only really confront it for ourselves.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 45:08 Yes, I think that's great that so you're making me think of sort of like this. Sometimes I have clients do kind of this biofeedback program. No tests away. So it's not scientific at all. It's but it is that personal reflection method, where you're really, you need to know what you're listening for what you're looking for, right, in order to actually give yourself a valuable critique. Yeah, and not being picky, uni perfectionistic, that sort of thing. But actually, like looking at, well, what's really important here? And how might I do this better? Oh, okay, gee, I just got like, three ideas there. That's kind of cool. I'm going to try one out.   Michael Hingson ** 45:55 And it may be that you might not know upfront what you're looking for, but at least you ask the question, What am I looking for? What should I learn from this? And that will come?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 46:04 Yes, it does, doesn't it?   Michael Hingson ** 46:08 It always will come if we take the time to listen. Well, as you've learned and grown, what have you learned about faith?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 46:17 Faith? There's a big question, right?   Michael Hingson ** 46:20 Yes, yes. So,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 46:22 you know, I'm kind of thinking back to that time where I almost drowned. And I think the thing that was so hard about it was this idea that I was just going to die. And it would, that would just be it. And there would be nothing else except terror, somehow there was going to be this terror, terror involved. And I have come to, to learn that there's so much more to life. And there's so much more to us that that was just a child's way to process what was happening. Because my brain wasn't developed enough. And so now, thankfully, my brain is much more developed. And I have the ability to receive information and to know things without necessarily scientific facts. And I know that I know them because I know it. And you're gonna me, right. And I'm an also, I think there was a turning point for me and my consciousness around the idea that the universe is actually my friend. Yeah. And it's a loving kind universe. Right? And if anybody tells you anything different, like, you don't have to choose to believe that just because they do. Yeah. So when we create, right, we just create the world we want to live in. And then we connect in with that energy, because the energy is free, and it's everywhere. It's available. Yes.   Michael Hingson ** 48:02 And if they choose not to believe that the universe is a kind universe, we can't force them to change. All we can do is say things like, and how's your world really going for you? And think about that, and maybe they will, and maybe they won't, but at least you plant the seed and you see where it goes from there.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 48:24 Yes, plant the seed and be a role model.   Michael Hingson ** 48:27 Yes, always be a role model. And I there's nothing wrong with being a role model, as far as I'm concerned.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 48:35 No, and I think the more conscious we are about the role model, the roles that we play, the greater impact we can have. And just, you know, a moment with somebody in an elevator moment, just passing somebody on the sidewalk can change someone's life.   Michael Hingson ** 48:57 What's one thing you'd like people to know who are listening to us? There's a deep quest I,   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 49:03 yes. I'd like them to know that even if you feel alone, at times. You're actually not. And so it's okay to feel that way. But it's just a feeling. It's not the absolute truth. And so allow yourself to just explore oh, what would it be like if I had if I wasn't alone in this? Like, what if the universe is my friend? What if, like, the trees are my friend? Well, you can just choose whatever you want to you know, the air is my friend. What if I'm not really alone? I just feeling alone. Okay. Oh, that's interesting. And what might I need next? You know, maybe I need I do want to call a friend or maybe I do want to call somebody I haven't thought of in a long time or just go out and talk to another soul.   Michael Hingson ** 49:54 Yeah. It makes perfect sense to do that. Have you written any books or anything   50:01 I have not written in,   Michael Hingson ** 50:02 oh my goodness, there's a job for you. I have written   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 50:05 course material, I have so much course material. It's not even funny. But that's where most of my writing has gone into, like instructional trainings and things of that nature.   Michael Hingson ** 50:15 Do you have online courses available?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 50:17 I will have some I, I am in a transition right now. I'm shifting my brand to say yes to your soul. And so I'm creating materials for that right now. And those will be available soon. And in the meantime, I do have free gifts. So if somebody wants to go if if there's an entrepreneur out there, who wants a little support on a few topics, I've got some videos, I've got an audio right now available to anybody who wants it called to help you connect with your soul truth. Sounds like a guided experience. Yeah.   Michael Hingson ** 50:56 And so how can people Yeah, how can people reach out to you? How can they get those and learn more about you and maybe contact you to? To get some help?   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 51:04 Yes, they can go to Tessa. T E S S A freegift.com. Tessa free gift.com And there's a signup page. And they can sign up and they'll get a modest amount of emails from me. And I don't share information. I definitely want to respect that. And as soon as you receive an email from me, that's my email if you want to reach out from there you can   Michael Hingson ** 51:33 Well, there you go test a free gift. Calm. Yeah. And yeah, sorry.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 51:39 Go on. You know, I am on social Of course. Yeah. Facebook, my name.   51:46 Tessa Alburn. A L B U R N, right? Yeah.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 51:50 And I'm on Insta, it's realized soul with Tessa. And I'm on LinkedIn. Like, I'm the only Tessa Alburn, which is kind of cool. So you're gonna find me?   Michael Hingson ** 52:02 I have discovered there is more than one Michael hingson in the world, but I don't. We've never I've never run into them. But I know they're out there. So well.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 52:12 That's great. It's one of the things,   Michael Hingson ** 52:14 I want to thank you for being with us. I really greatly appreciate your time. And I know you've got things to go do. I would love it when you get course material or you get links to all that if you would pass it on, because we'll make sure it gets in the show notes. It's gonna be a couple of months or three months before this goes up. Something for you. Oh, get it to us, by all means when this comes up pastic. And the other thing is if you need this to go up sooner, because you want to promote the course stuff when they come out, let me know. But we'll help. Oh, that's so thoughtful. Thank   Michael Hingson ** 52:48 you I plan to help any   Michael Hingson ** 52:49 way that we can. And I hope that people will reach out to you, Tessa, free gifts, free gifts s or just gift singular for singular, says a free gift.com and that they will reach out to you. And I hope that you all will reach out to me. I'd love to hear what you think about the episode that we're just finishing. And also of course, we would appreciate it if you give us a five star rating and we value that very highly let us know with reviews. But those five star ratings we love. If you'd like to reach out to me I'm easy to find it's Michaelhi at accessibe A C C E S S I B E.com Or go to our podcast page www dot Michael hingson.com/podcast. And Michael hingson is m i c h a e l h i n g s o n.com/podcasts. So please reach out. Tessa for you. And for anyone listening. If you know anyone who you think we ought to have as a guest on this unstoppable mindset podcast series, please let us know we're always looking for more people to meet and to get to know. Because I love to learn and I love to share. So please, if you know anyone let us know. But Tessa, delighted to please. And I want to thank you one last time for being here with us and for giving us your time. So thank you very much for all that you've been able to bring to us today. And we look forward to you being on again and hearing about more your adventures.   Tessa Lynne Alburn ** 54:17 Thank you Michael. It's really been a pleasure.   **Michael Hingson ** 54:25 You have been listening to the Unstoppable Mindset podcast. Thanks for dropping by. I hope that you'll join us again next week, and in future weeks for upcoming episodes. To subscribe to our podcast and to learn about upcoming episodes, please visit www dot Michael hingson.com slash podcast. Michael Hingson is spelled m i c h a e l h i n g s o n. While you're on the site., please use the form there to recommend people who we ought to interview in upcoming editions of the show. And also, we ask you and urge you to invite your friends to join us in the future. If you know of any one or any organization needing a speaker for an event, please email me at speaker at Michael hingson.com. I appreciate it very much. To learn more about the concept of blinded by fear, please visit www dot Michael hingson.com forward slash blinded by fear and while you're there, feel free to pick up a copy of my free eBook entitled blinded by fear. The unstoppable mindset podcast is provided by access cast an initiative of accessiBe and is sponsored by accessiBe. Please visit www.accessibe.com. accessiBe is spelled a c c e s s i b e. There you can learn all about how you can make your website inclusive for all persons with disabilities and how you can help make the internet fully inclusive by 2025. Thanks again for listening. Please come back and visit us again next week.

Each Halloween season, All Things Judicial releases a special "Fright Court" episode, where the focus turns to ghostly legends associated with North Carolina's courthouses and legal community. IThis year, we focus on courthouse ghosts in New Hanover and Mitchell counties, and dive into the folklore of the 1866 murder of Laura Foster and subsequent trial and execution of her accused killer, Tom Dula (Dooley). This story became a worldwide pop culture phenomenon beginning in 1958 when the Kingston Trio released a murder ballad which reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart."I've always believed that the hanging of Tom Dooley here in our little town of Statesville, North Carolina is the most widely recognized execution in U.S. history," said Steve Hill, curator of the Statesville Historical Collection. "Everybody wanted to make a dollar off of Tom Dooley while they could, and a lot of people did." The first segment of this episode is an interview with John Hirchak, who, along with his wife Kim, operate the Ghost Walk of Old Wilmington and The Black Cat Shoppe. Hirchak shares stories about three spirits who occupy the historic New Hanover County Courthouse, and we discuss possible explanations for hauntings.The second segment is a dramatic reading of an article published by the Mitchell County Historical Society which details firsthand accounts of seeing and hearing a ghost which haunts the historic Mitchell County Courthouse.In the third segment, we meet Margaret Ferguson Carter Martine from the Whippoorwill Academy and Village in Wilkes County. She recounts the Dooley story and shares her personal connection to a key figure in that historic event.Then we travel to Iredell County where we meet Keith Ryan, Director of the Historic Sharpe House. He shares details about May 1, 1868, the fateful day Tom Dooley was hanged in Statesville.In the final interview of this episode, we meet Steve Hill, curator of the Statesville Historical Collection. He provides insight into the worldwide impact of the Dooley story.You can find out more about All Things Judicial or hear previous episodes in the Fright Court series by visiting NCcourts.gov.

John Gilmore, son of pioneering Producer at Capitol Records Voyle Gilmore discusses his youth, his dad and how he pioneered the recording of The Kingston Trio, Frank Sinatra and many more great Capitol Artists.

"Hang down your head, Tom DooleyHang down your head and cryHang down your head, Tom DooleyPoor boy, you're bound to die."The murder ballad, 'Tom Dooley', made famous by the Kingston Trio in 1958, is the tale of a twisted love triangle that culminated in two sensational trials that both captivated and disgusted the people of North Carolina in the years following the American civil war.Dianne and Jennie also delve into the song 'Swannanoa Tunnel', a work song that was sung by African American prison laborers who were tasked with the arduous job of building the railroad tracks and tunnels through North Carolina. An estimated 125 – 300 convicts died during the construction of these tunnels.Join Jennie and Dianne on this Ordinary Extraordinary musical journey through the hidden histories and the real-life dramas that inspired these songs.To purchase tickets to Beyond the Grave: An Evening with Bram Stoker in Colorado Springs, Colorado, click here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/beyond-the-grave-an-evening-with-bram-stoker-tickets-696195337997?aff=oddtdtcreatorResources used to research this episode include:Baker, Bruce E., et al. "Folk Music." https://www.ncpedia.org. 20 Sep. 2006. www.ncpedia.org/folk-music. Accessed 17 Sep. 2023.Kemp, Mark. "An Our State Playlist: North Carolina Folk Music ." https://www.ourstate.com. 31 Aug. 2023. www.ourstate.com/an-our-state-playlist-north-carolina-folk-music/. Accessed 17 Sep. 2023., North Carolina Arts Council . "The Legend Behind North Carolina's Most Famous Murder Ballad ." https://www.ncarts.org. 29 Oct. 2019. www.ncarts.org/blog/2019/10/29/legend-behind-north-carolinas-most-famous-murder-ballad#:~:text=In%201868%20a%20man%20named,the%20crime%20and%20its%20fallout. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023.Martin, Christy. "The Story Behind the Ballad and Legend of Tom Dooley ." https://thesouthernvoice.com. 7 Oct. 2022. thesouthernvoice.com/the-story-behind-the-ballad-and-legend-tom-dooley/. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023., North Carolina Ghosts . "The Scary Truth: The Legend of Tom Dooley ." https://northcarolinaghosts.com. northcarolinaghosts.com/mountains/tom-dooley/scary-truth/. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023.McKown, Harry. "May 1868: The Death of Tom Dooley ." https://blogs.lib.unc.edu. 1 May 2008. blogs.lib.unc.edu/ncm/2008/05/01/this_month_may_1868-2/. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023. "Tom Dooley Gravesite ." https://www.findagrave.com. 22 July 2001. www.findagrave.com/cemetery/641036/tom-dooley-gravesite. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023.Sabatella, Matthew. "Swannanoa Tunnel: About the Song ." https://balladofamerica.org. balladofamerica.org/swannanoa-tunnel/. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023., WLOS Staff. "New memorial & exhibit recognize incarcerated laborers' contribution to WNC railroads ." https://wlos.com. 24 Oct. 2021. wlos.com/news/local/new-memorial-exhibit-recognize-incarcerated-laborers-contribution-to-wnc-railroads. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023. "The Rail Project." https://therailproject.org. therailproject.org/. Accessed 24 Sep. 2023.

Ron Gordon has the Friday market report from Edward Jones. Folk Musician Bob Haworth of the Kingston Trio talks his career life story in his latest book TALES FROM THE ROAD. Local boy made very good indeed.

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

Will Ackerman is a visionary composer, fingerstyle guitarist and producer. As the founder of Windham Hill Records, he achieved international success with his own music and that of artists such as Michael Hedges, George Winston, Alex De Grassi and others.  Windham Hill's sumptuous, detailed sound is widely acknowledged to be a milestone in the evolution of the acoustic guitar. Let's face it: When the first D-28 rolled off the Martin Guitar Company production line, they were hardly expecting Michael Hedges! In fact, no one was...least of all Will Ackerman. In this conversation, he shares some beautiful stories about meeting Michael for the first time and the recording sessions for Aerial Boundaries!  We also get some extraordinary insights about the early days of Will's career, hanging out with the Kingston Trio, kayaking with Steve Jobs, the correct way to kick priceless digital mastering equipment, and much more. Many of you doubtless know that Will Ackerman was touched by tragedy at an early age. He talks candidly about this when we discuss his beautiful piece, "The Impending Death of The Virgin Spirit." Once again - this is REAL LIFE on the fretboard - but listener discretion is encouraged.  I caught up with Will Ackerman during his visit to the beautiful English town of Royal Tunbridge Wells. The hotel where he was staying had been a favorite of Queen Victoria and its staff continue to uphold fastidious levels of excellence...even at one point interrupting the recording with a session of vacuum cleaning right outside the room. While I dealt with this Ackerman was left with a hot mic;  I have kept the results for posterity.  To contribute directly to Life on The Fretboard please use this Tip Jar link https://michaelwattsguitar.com/tip-jars/4745 This episode was brought to you by the kind sponsorship of Mirabella Guitars https://www.mirabellaguitars.com/ , Microtech Gefell Microphones  https://www.microtechgefell.de/, Fretboard Journal and, you, the listener. To learn more about Will Ackerman visit https://williamackerman.com/  Join me next time where I will be spending time with the extraordinary talent that is Italian singer/songwriter Emma Tricca. You may have seen her on tour with Nick Mason's Saucerful of Secrets or Dinosaur Jr. It's a fantastic conversation that I can't wait to share with you.  

Episode 165 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Dark Stat” and the career of the Grateful Dead. This is a long one, even longer than the previous episode, but don't worry, that won't be the norm. There's a reason these two were much longer than average. 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 "Codine" by the Charlatans. Errata I mispronounce Brent Mydland's name as Myland a couple of times, and in the introduction I say "Touch of Grey" came out in 1988 -- I later, correctly, say 1987. (I seem to have had a real problem with dates in the intro -- I also originally talked about "Blue Suede Shoes" being in 1954 before fixing it in the edit to be 1956) Resources No Mixcloud this week, as there are too many songs by the Grateful Dead, and Grayfolded runs to two hours. I referred to a lot of books for this episode, partly because almost everything about the Grateful Dead is written from a fannish perspective that already assumes background knowledge, rather than to provide that background knowledge. Of the various books I used, Dennis McNally's biography of the band and This Is All a Dream We Dreamed: An Oral History of the Grateful Dead by Blair Jackson and David Gans are probably most useful for the casually interested. Other books on the Dead I used included McNally's Jerry on Jerry, a collection of interviews with Garcia; Deal, Bill Kreutzmann's autobiography; The Grateful Dead FAQ by Tony Sclafani; So Many Roads by David Browne; Deadology by Howard F. Weiner; Fare Thee Well by Joel Selvin and Pamela Turley; and Skeleton Key: A Dictionary for Deadheads by David Shenk and Steve Silberman. Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is the classic account of the Pranksters, though not always reliable. I reference Slaughterhouse Five a lot. As well as the novel itself, which everyone should read, I also read this rather excellent graphic novel adaptation, and The Writer's Crusade, a book about the writing of the novel. I also reference Ted Sturgeon's More Than Human. For background on the scene around Astounding Science Fiction which included Sturgeon, John W. Campbell, L. Ron Hubbard, and many other science fiction writers, I recommend Alec Nevala-Lee's Astounding. 1,000 True Fans can be read online, as can the essay on the Californian ideology, and John Perry Barlow's "Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace". The best collection of Grateful Dead material is the box set The Golden Road, which contains all the albums released in Pigpen's lifetime along with a lot of bonus material, but which appears currently out of print. Live/Dead contains both the live version of "Dark Star" which made it well known and, as a CD bonus track, the original single version. And archive.org has more live recordings of the group than you can possibly ever listen to. Grayfolded can be bought from John Oswald's Bandcamp Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript [Excerpt: Tuning from "Grayfolded", under the warnings Before we begin -- as we're tuning up, as it were, I should mention that this episode contains discussions of alcoholism, drug addiction, racism, nonconsensual drugging of other people, and deaths from drug abuse, suicide, and car accidents. As always, I try to deal with these subjects as carefully as possible, but if you find any of those things upsetting you may wish to read the transcript rather than listen to this episode, or skip it altogether. Also, I should note that the members of the Grateful Dead were much freer with their use of swearing in interviews than any other band we've covered so far, and that makes using quotes from them rather more difficult than with other bands, given the limitations of the rules imposed to stop the podcast being marked as adult. If I quote anything with a word I can't use here, I'll give a brief pause in the audio, and in the transcript I'll have the word in square brackets. [tuning ends] All this happened, more or less. In 1910, T. S. Eliot started work on "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", which at the time was deemed barely poetry, with one reviewer imagining Eliot saying "I'll just put down the first thing that comes into my head, and call it 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.'" It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature. In 1969, Kurt Vonnegut wrote "Slaughterhouse-Five, or, The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death", a book in which the protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, comes unstuck in time, and starts living a nonlinear life, hopping around between times reliving his experiences in the Second World War, and future experiences up to 1976 after being kidnapped by beings from the planet Tralfamadore. Or perhaps he has flashbacks and hallucinations after having a breakdown from PTSD. It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature or of science fiction, depending on how you look at it. In 1953, Theodore Sturgeon wrote More Than Human. It is now considered one of the great classics of science fiction. In 1950, L. Ron Hubbard wrote Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. It is now considered either a bad piece of science fiction or one of the great revelatory works of religious history, depending on how you look at it. In 1994, 1995, and 1996 the composer John Oswald released, first as two individual CDs and then as a double-CD, an album called Grayfolded, which the composer says in the liner notes he thinks of as existing in Tralfamadorian time. The Tralfamadorians in Vonnegut's novels don't see time as a linear thing with a beginning and end, but as a continuum that they can move between at will. When someone dies, they just think that at this particular point in time they're not doing so good, but at other points in time they're fine, so why focus on the bad time? In the book, when told of someone dying, the Tralfamadorians just say "so it goes". In between the first CD's release and the release of the double-CD version, Jerry Garcia died. From August 1942 through August 1995, Jerry Garcia was alive. So it goes. Shall we go, you and I? [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Dark Star (Omni 3/30/94)"] "One principle has become clear. Since motives are so frequently found in combination, it is essential that the complex types be analyzed and arranged, with an eye kept single nevertheless to the master-theme under discussion. Collectors, both primary and subsidiary, have done such valiant service that the treasures at our command are amply sufficient for such studies, so extensive, indeed, that the task of going through them thoroughly has become too great for the unassisted student. It cannot be too strongly urged that a single theme in its various types and compounds must be made predominant in any useful comparative study. This is true when the sources and analogues of any literary work are treated; it is even truer when the bare motive is discussed. The Grateful Dead furnishes an apt illustration of the necessity of such handling. It appears in a variety of different combinations, almost never alone. Indeed, it is so widespread a tale, and its combinations are so various, that there is the utmost difficulty in determining just what may properly be regarded the original kernel of it, the simple theme to which other motives were joined. Various opinions, as we shall see, have been held with reference to this matter, most of them justified perhaps by the materials in the hands of the scholars holding them, but none quite adequate in view of later evidence." That's a quote from The Grateful Dead: The History of a Folk Story, by Gordon Hall Gerould, published in 1908. Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five opens with a chapter about the process of writing the novel itself, and how difficult it was. He says "I would hate to tell you what this lousy little book cost me in money and anxiety and time. When I got home from the Second World War twenty-three years ago, I thought it would be easy for me to write about the destruction of Dresden, since all I would have to do would be to report what I had seen. And I thought, too, that it would be a masterpiece or at least make me a lot of money, since the subject was so big." This is an episode several of my listeners have been looking forward to, but it's one I've been dreading writing, because this is an episode -- I think the only one in the series -- where the format of the podcast simply *will not* work. Were the Grateful Dead not such an important band, I would skip this episode altogether, but they're a band that simply can't be ignored, and that's a real problem here. Because my intent, always, with this podcast, is to present the recordings of the artists in question, put them in context, and explain why they were important, what their music meant to its listeners. To put, as far as is possible, the positive case for why the music mattered *in the context of its time*. Not why it matters now, or why it matters to me, but why it matters *in its historical context*. Whether I like the music or not isn't the point. Whether it stands up now isn't the point. I play the music, explain what it was they were doing, why they were doing it, what people saw in it. If I do my job well, you come away listening to "Blue Suede Shoes" the way people heard it in 1956, or "Good Vibrations" the way people heard it in 1966, and understanding why people were so impressed by those records. That is simply *not possible* for the Grateful Dead. I can present a case for them as musicians, and hope to do so. I can explain the appeal as best I understand it, and talk about things I like in their music, and things I've noticed. But what I can't do is present their recordings the way they were received in the sixties and explain why they were popular. Because every other act I have covered or will cover in this podcast has been a *recording* act, and their success was based on records. They may also have been exceptional live performers, but James Brown or Ike and Tina Turner are remembered for great *records*, like "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" or "River Deep, Mountain High". Their great moments were captured on vinyl, to be listened back to, and susceptible of analysis. That is not the case for the Grateful Dead, and what is worse *they explicitly said, publicly, on multiple occasions* that it is not possible for me to understand their art, and thus that it is not possible for me to explain it. The Grateful Dead did make studio records, some of them very good. But they always said, consistently, over a thirty year period, that their records didn't capture what they did, and that the only way -- the *only* way, they were very clear about this -- that one could actually understand and appreciate their music, was to see them live, and furthermore to see them live while on psychedelic drugs. [Excerpt: Grateful Dead crowd noise] I never saw the Grateful Dead live -- their last UK performance was a couple of years before I went to my first ever gig -- and I have never taken a psychedelic substance. So by the Grateful Dead's own criteria, it is literally impossible for me to understand or explain their music the way that it should be understood or explained. In a way I'm in a similar position to the one I was in with La Monte Young in the last episode, whose music it's mostly impossible to experience without being in his presence. This is one reason of several why I placed these two episodes back to back. Of course, there is a difference between Young and the Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead allowed -- even encouraged -- the recording of their live performances. There are literally thousands of concert recordings in circulation, many of them of professional quality. I have listened to many of those, and I can hear what they were doing. I can tell you what *I* think is interesting about their music, and about their musicianship. And I think I can build up a good case for why they were important, and why they're interesting, and why those recordings are worth listening to. And I can certainly explain the cultural phenomenon that was the Grateful Dead. But just know that while I may have found *a* point, *an* explanation for why the Grateful Dead were important, by the band's own lights and those of their fans, no matter how good a job I do in this episode, I *cannot* get it right. And that is, in itself, enough of a reason for this episode to exist, and for me to try, even harder than I normally do, to get it right *anyway*. Because no matter how well I do my job this episode will stand as an example of why this series is called "*A* History", not *the* history. Because parts of the past are ephemeral. There are things about which it's true to say "You had to be there". I cannot know what it was like to have been an American the day Kennedy was shot, I cannot know what it was like to be alive when a man walked on the Moon. Those are things nobody my age or younger can ever experience. And since August the ninth, 1995, the experience of hearing the Grateful Dead's music the way they wanted it heard has been in that category. And that is by design. Jerry Garcia once said "if you work really hard as an artist, you may be able to build something they can't tear down, you know, after you're gone... What I want to do is I want it here. I want it now, in this lifetime. I want what I enjoy to last as long as I do and not last any longer. You know, I don't want something that ends up being as much a nuisance as it is a work of art, you know?" And there's another difficulty. There are only two points in time where it makes sense to do a podcast episode on the Grateful Dead -- late 1967 and early 1968, when the San Francisco scene they were part of was at its most culturally relevant, and 1988 when they had their only top ten hit and gained their largest audience. I can't realistically leave them out of the story until 1988, so it has to be 1968. But the songs they are most remembered for are those they wrote between 1970 and 1972, and those songs are influenced by artists and events we haven't yet covered in the podcast, who will be getting their own episodes in the future. I can't explain those things in this episode, because they need whole episodes of their own. I can't not explain them without leaving out important context for the Grateful Dead. So the best I can do is treat the story I'm telling as if it were in Tralfamadorian time. All of it's happening all at once, and some of it is happening in different episodes that haven't been recorded yet. The podcast as a whole travels linearly from 1938 through to 1999, but this episode is happening in 1968 and 1972 and 1988 and 1995 and other times, all at once. Sometimes I'll talk about things as if you're already familiar with them, but they haven't happened yet in the story. Feel free to come unstuck in time and revisit this time after episode 167, and 172, and 176, and 192, and experience it again. So this has to be an experimental episode. It may well be an experiment that you think fails. If so, the next episode is likely to be far more to your taste, and much shorter than this or the last episode, two episodes that between them have to create a scaffolding on which will hang much of the rest of this podcast's narrative. I've finished my Grateful Dead script now. The next one I write is going to be fun: [Excerpt: Grateful Dead, "Dark Star"] Infrastructure means everything. How we get from place to place, how we transport goods, information, and ourselves, makes a big difference in how society is structured, and in the music we hear. For many centuries, the prime means of long-distance transport was by water -- sailing ships on the ocean, canal boats and steamboats for inland navigation -- and so folk songs talked about the ship as both means of escape, means of making a living, and in some senses as a trap. You'd go out to sea for adventure, or to escape your problems, but you'd find that the sea itself brought its own problems. Because of this we have a long, long tradition of sea shanties which are known throughout the world: [Excerpt: A. L. Lloyd, "Off to Sea Once More"] But in the nineteenth century, the railway was invented and, at least as far as travel within a landmass goes, it replaced the steamboat in the popular imaginary. Now the railway was how you got from place to place, and how you moved freight from one place to another. The railway brought freedom, and was an opportunity for outlaws, whether train robbers or a romanticised version of the hobo hopping onto a freight train and making his way to new lands and new opportunity. It was the train that brought soldiers home from wars, and the train that allowed the Great Migration of Black people from the South to the industrial North. There would still be songs about the riverboats, about how ol' man river keeps rolling along and about the big river Johnny Cash sang about, but increasingly they would be songs of the past, not the present. The train quickly replaced the steamboat in the iconography of what we now think of as roots music -- blues, country, folk, and early jazz music. Sometimes this was very literal. Furry Lewis' "Kassie Jones" -- about a legendary train driver who would break the rules to make sure his train made the station on time, but who ended up sacrificing his own life to save his passengers in a train crash -- is based on "Alabamy Bound", which as we heard in the episode on "Stagger Lee", was about steamboats: [Excerpt: Furry Lewis, "Kassie Jones"] In the early episodes of this podcast we heard many, many, songs about the railway. Louis Jordan saying "take me right back to the track, Jack", Rosetta Tharpe singing about how "this train don't carry no gamblers", the trickster freight train driver driving on the "Rock Island Line", the mystery train sixteen coaches long, the train that kept-a-rollin' all night long, the Midnight Special which the prisoners wished would shine its ever-loving light on them, and the train coming past Folsom Prison whose whistle makes Johnny Cash hang his head and cry. But by the 1960s, that kind of song had started to dry up. It would happen on occasion -- "People Get Ready" by the Impressions is the most obvious example of the train metaphor in an important sixties record -- but by the late sixties the train was no longer a symbol of freedom but of the past. In 1969 Harry Nilsson sang about how "Nobody Cares About the Railroads Any More", and in 1968 the Kinks sang about "The Last of the Steam-Powered Trains". When in 1968 Merle Haggard sang about a freight train, it was as a memory, of a child with hopes that ended up thwarted by reality and his own nature: [Excerpt: Merle Haggard, "Mama Tried"] And the reason for this was that there had been another shift, a shift that had started in the forties and accelerated in the late fifties but had taken a little time to ripple through the culture. Now the train had been replaced in the popular imaginary by motorised transport. Instead of hopping on a train without paying, if you had no money in your pocket you'd have to hitch-hike all the way. Freedom now meant individuality. The ultimate in freedom was the biker -- the Hell's Angels who could go anywhere, unburdened by anything -- and instead of goods being moved by freight train, increasingly they were being moved by truck drivers. By the mid-seventies, truck drivers took a central place in American life, and the most romantic way to live life was to live it on the road. On The Road was also the title of a 1957 novel by Jack Kerouac, which was one of the first major signs of this cultural shift in America. Kerouac was writing about events in the late forties and early fifties, but his book was also a precursor of the sixties counterculture. He wrote the book on one continuous sheet of paper, as a stream of consciousness. Kerouac died in 1969 of an internal haemmorage brought on by too much alcohol consumption. So it goes. But the big key to this cultural shift was caused by the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, a massive infrastructure spending bill that led to the construction of the modern American Interstate Highway system. This accelerated a program that had already started, of building much bigger, safer, faster roads. It also, as anyone who has read Robert Caro's The Power Broker knows, reinforced segregation and white flight. It did this both by making commuting into major cities from the suburbs easier -- thus allowing white people with more money to move further away from the cities and still work there -- and by bulldozing community spaces where Black people lived. More than a million people lost their homes and were forcibly moved, and orders of magnitude more lost their communities' parks and green spaces. And both as a result of deliberate actions and unconscious bigotry, the bulk of those affected were Black people -- who often found themselves, if they weren't forced to move, on one side of a ten-lane highway where the park used to be, with white people on the other side of the highway. The Federal-Aid Highway Act gave even more power to the unaccountable central planners like Robert Moses, the urban planner in New York who managed to become arguably the most powerful man in the city without ever getting elected, partly by slowly compromising away his early progressive ideals in the service of gaining more power. Of course, not every new highway was built through areas where poor Black people lived. Some were planned to go through richer areas for white people, just because you can't completely do away with geographical realities. For example one was planned to be built through part of San Francisco, a rich, white part. But the people who owned properties in that area had enough political power and clout to fight the development, and after nearly a decade of fighting it, the development was called off in late 1966. But over that time, many of the owners of the impressive buildings in the area had moved out, and they had no incentive to improve or maintain their properties while they were under threat of demolition, so many of them were rented out very cheaply. And when the beat community that Kerouac wrote about, many of whom had settled in San Francisco, grew too large and notorious for the area of the city they were in, North Beach, many of them moved to these cheap homes in a previously-exclusive area. The area known as Haight-Ashbury. [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Grayfolded"] Stories all have their starts, even stories told in Tralfamadorian time, although sometimes those starts are shrouded in legend. For example, the story of Scientology's start has been told many times, with different people claiming to have heard L. Ron Hubbard talk about how writing was a mug's game, and if you wanted to make real money, you needed to get followers, start a religion. Either he said this over and over and over again, to many different science fiction writers, or most science fiction writers of his generation were liars. Of course, the definition of a writer is someone who tells lies for money, so who knows? One of the more plausible accounts of him saying that is given by Theodore Sturgeon. Sturgeon's account is more believable than most, because Sturgeon went on to be a supporter of Dianetics, the "new science" that Hubbard turned into his religion, for decades, even while telling the story. The story of the Grateful Dead probably starts as it ends, with Jerry Garcia. There are three things that everyone writing about the Dead says about Garcia's childhood, so we might as well say them here too. The first is that he was named by a music-loving father after Jerome Kern, the songwriter responsible for songs like "Ol' Man River" (though as Oscar Hammerstein's widow liked to point out, "Jerome Kern wrote dum-dum-dum-dum, *my husband* wrote 'Ol' Man River'" -- an important distinction we need to bear in mind when talking about songwriters who write music but not lyrics). The second is that when he was five years old that music-loving father drowned -- and Garcia would always say he had seen his father dying, though some sources claim this was a false memory. So it goes. And the third fact, which for some reason is always told after the second even though it comes before it chronologically, is that when he was four he lost two joints from his right middle finger. Garcia grew up a troubled teen, and in turn caused trouble for other people, but he also developed a few interests that would follow him through his life. He loved the fantastical, especially the fantastical macabre, and became an avid fan of horror and science fiction -- and through his love of old monster films he became enamoured with cinema more generally. Indeed, in 1983 he bought the film rights to Kurt Vonnegut's science fiction novel The Sirens of Titan, the first story in which the Tralfamadorians appear, and wrote a script based on it. He wanted to produce the film himself, with Francis Ford Coppola directing and Bill Murray starring, but most importantly for him he wanted to prevent anyone who didn't care about it from doing it badly. And in that he succeeded. As of 2023 there is no film of The Sirens of Titan. He loved to paint, and would continue that for the rest of his life, with one of his favourite subjects being Boris Karloff as the Frankenstein monster. And when he was eleven or twelve, he heard for the first time a record that was hugely influential to a whole generation of Californian musicians, even though it was a New York record -- "Gee" by the Crows: [Excerpt: The Crows, "Gee"] Garcia would say later "That was an important song. That was the first kind of, like where the voices had that kind of not-trained-singer voices, but tough-guy-on-the-street voice." That record introduced him to R&B, and soon he was listening to Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, to Ray Charles, and to a record we've not talked about in the podcast but which was one of the great early doo-wop records, "WPLJ" by the Four Deuces: [Excerpt: The Four Deuces, "WPLJ"] Garcia said of that record "That was one of my anthem songs when I was in junior high school and high school and around there. That was one of those songs everybody knew. And that everybody sang. Everybody sang that street-corner favorite." Garcia moved around a lot as a child, and didn't have much time for school by his own account, but one of the few teachers he did respect was an art teacher when he was in North Beach, Walter Hedrick. Hedrick was also one of the earliest of the conceptual artists, and one of the most important figures in the San Francisco arts scene that would become known as the Beat Generation (or the Beatniks, which was originally a disparaging term). Hedrick was a painter and sculptor, but also organised happenings, and he had also been one of the prime movers in starting a series of poetry readings in San Francisco, the first one of which had involved Allen Ginsberg giving the first ever reading of "Howl" -- one of a small number of poems, along with Eliot's "Prufrock" and "The Waste Land" and possibly Pound's Cantos, which can be said to have changed twentieth-century literature. Garcia was fifteen when he got to know Hedrick, in 1957, and by then the Beat scene had already become almost a parody of itself, having become known to the public because of the publication of works like On the Road, and the major artists in the scene were already rejecting the label. By this point tourists were flocking to North Beach to see these beatniks they'd heard about on TV, and Hedrick was actually employed by one cafe to sit in the window wearing a beret, turtleneck, sandals, and beard, and draw and paint, to attract the tourists who flocked by the busload because they could see that there was a "genuine beatnik" in the cafe. Hedrick was, as well as a visual artist, a guitarist and banjo player who played in traditional jazz bands, and he would bring records in to class for his students to listen to, and Garcia particularly remembered him bringing in records by Big Bill Broonzy: [Excerpt: Big Bill Broonzy, "When Things Go Wrong (It Hurts Me Too)"] Garcia was already an avid fan of rock and roll music, but it was being inspired by Hedrick that led him to get his first guitar. Like his contemporary Paul McCartney around the same time, he was initially given the wrong instrument as a birthday present -- in Garcia's case his mother gave him an accordion -- but he soon persuaded her to swap it for an electric guitar he saw in a pawn shop. And like his other contemporary, John Lennon, Garcia initially tuned his instrument incorrectly. He said later "When I started playing the guitar, believe me, I didn't know anybody that played. I mean, I didn't know anybody that played the guitar. Nobody. They weren't around. There were no guitar teachers. You couldn't take lessons. There was nothing like that, you know? When I was a kid and I had my first electric guitar, I had it tuned wrong and learned how to play on it with it tuned wrong for about a year. And I was getting somewhere on it, you know… Finally, I met a guy that knew how to tune it right and showed me three chords, and it was like a revelation. You know what I mean? It was like somebody gave me the key to heaven." He joined a band, the Chords, which mostly played big band music, and his friend Gary Foster taught him some of the rudiments of playing the guitar -- things like how to use a capo to change keys. But he was always a rebellious kid, and soon found himself faced with a choice between joining the military or going to prison. He chose the former, and it was during his time in the Army that a friend, Ron Stevenson, introduced him to the music of Merle Travis, and to Travis-style guitar picking: [Excerpt: Merle Travis, "Nine-Pound Hammer"] Garcia had never encountered playing like that before, but he instantly recognised that Travis, and Chet Atkins who Stevenson also played for him, had been an influence on Scotty Moore. He started to realise that the music he'd listened to as a teenager was influenced by music that went further back. But Stevenson, as well as teaching Garcia some of the rudiments of Travis-picking, also indirectly led to Garcia getting discharged from the Army. Stevenson was not a well man, and became suicidal. Garcia decided it was more important to keep his friend company and make sure he didn't kill himself than it was to turn up for roll call, and as a result he got discharged himself on psychiatric grounds -- according to Garcia he told the Army psychiatrist "I was involved in stuff that was more important to me in the moment than the army was and that was the reason I was late" and the psychiatrist thought it was neurotic of Garcia to have his own set of values separate from that of the Army. After discharge, Garcia did various jobs, including working as a transcriptionist for Lenny Bruce, the comedian who was a huge influence on the counterculture. In one of the various attacks over the years by authoritarians on language, Bruce was repeatedly arrested for obscenity, and in 1961 he was arrested at a jazz club in North Beach. Sixty years ago, the parts of speech that were being criminalised weren't pronouns, but prepositions and verbs: [Excerpt: Lenny Bruce, "To is a Preposition, Come is a Verb"] That piece, indeed, was so controversial that when Frank Zappa quoted part of it in a song in 1968, the record label insisted on the relevant passage being played backwards so people couldn't hear such disgusting filth: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, "Harry You're a Beast"] (Anyone familiar with that song will understand that the censored portion is possibly the least offensive part of the whole thing). Bruce was facing trial, and he needed transcripts of what he had said in his recordings to present in court. Incidentally, there seems to be some confusion over exactly which of Bruce's many obscenity trials Garcia became a transcriptionist for. Dennis McNally says in his biography of the band, published in 2002, that it was the most famous of them, in autumn 1964, but in a later book, Jerry on Jerry, a book of interviews of Garcia edited by McNally, McNally talks about it being when Garcia was nineteen, which would mean it was Bruce's first trial, in 1961. We can put this down to the fact that many of the people involved, not least Garcia, lived in Tralfamadorian time, and were rather hazy on dates, but I'm placing the story here rather than in 1964 because it seems to make more sense that Garcia would be involved in a trial based on an incident in San Francisco than one in New York. Garcia got the job, even though he couldn't type, because by this point he'd spent so long listening to recordings of old folk and country music that he was used to transcribing indecipherable accents, and often, as Garcia would tell it, Bruce would mumble very fast and condense multiple syllables into one. Garcia was particularly impressed by Bruce's ability to improvise but talk in entire paragraphs, and he compared his use of language to bebop. Another thing that was starting to impress Garcia, and which he also compared to bebop, was bluegrass: [Excerpt: Bill Monroe, "Fire on the Mountain"] Bluegrass is a music that is often considered very traditional, because it's based on traditional songs and uses acoustic instruments, but in fact it was a terribly *modern* music, and largely a postwar creation of a single band -- Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys. And Garcia was right when he said it was "white bebop" -- though he did say "The only thing it doesn't have is the harmonic richness of bebop. You know what I mean? That's what it's missing, but it has everything else." Both bebop and bluegrass evolved after the second world war, though they were informed by music from before it, and both prized the ability to improvise, and technical excellence. Both are musics that involved playing *fast*, in an ensemble, and being able to respond quickly to the other musicians. Both musics were also intensely rhythmic, a response to a faster paced, more stressful world. They were both part of the general change in the arts towards immediacy that we looked at in the last episode with the creation first of expressionism and then of pop art. Bluegrass didn't go into the harmonic explorations that modern jazz did, but it was absolutely as modern as anything Charlie Parker was doing, and came from the same impulses. It was tradition and innovation, the past and the future simultaneously. Bill Monroe, Jackson Pollock, Charlie Parker, Jack Kerouac, and Lenny Bruce were all in their own ways responding to the same cultural moment, and it was that which Garcia was responding to. But he didn't become able to play bluegrass until after a tragedy which shaped his life even more than his father's death had. Garcia had been to a party and was in a car with his friends Lee Adams, Paul Speegle, and Alan Trist. Adams was driving at ninety miles an hour when they hit a tight curve and crashed. Garcia, Adams, and Trist were all severely injured but survived. Speegle died. So it goes. This tragedy changed Garcia's attitudes totally. Of all his friends, Speegle was the one who was most serious about his art, and who treated it as something to work on. Garcia had always been someone who fundamentally didn't want to work or take any responsibility for anything. And he remained that way -- except for his music. Speegle's death changed Garcia's attitude to that, totally. If his friend wasn't going to be able to practice his own art any more, Garcia would practice his, in tribute to him. He resolved to become a virtuoso on guitar and banjo. His girlfriend of the time later said “I don't know if you've spent time with someone rehearsing ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown' on a banjo for eight hours, but Jerry practiced endlessly. He really wanted to excel and be the best. He had tremendous personal ambition in the musical arena, and he wanted to master whatever he set out to explore. Then he would set another sight for himself. And practice another eight hours a day of new licks.” But of course, you can't make ensemble music on your own: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia and Bob Hunter, "Oh Mary Don't You Weep" (including end)] "Evelyn said, “What is it called when a person needs a … person … when you want to be touched and the … two are like one thing and there isn't anything else at all anywhere?” Alicia, who had read books, thought about it. “Love,” she said at length." That's from More Than Human, by Theodore Sturgeon, a book I'll be quoting a few more times as the story goes on. Robert Hunter, like Garcia, was just out of the military -- in his case, the National Guard -- and he came into Garcia's life just after Paul Speegle had left it. Garcia and Alan Trist met Hunter ten days after the accident, and the three men started hanging out together, Trist and Hunter writing while Garcia played music. Garcia and Hunter both bonded over their shared love for the beats, and for traditional music, and the two formed a duo, Bob and Jerry, which performed together a handful of times. They started playing together, in fact, after Hunter picked up a guitar and started playing a song and halfway through Garcia took it off him and finished the song himself. The two of them learned songs from the Harry Smith Anthology -- Garcia was completely apolitical, and only once voted in his life, for Lyndon Johnson in 1964 to keep Goldwater out, and regretted even doing that, and so he didn't learn any of the more political material people like Pete Seeger, Phil Ochs, and Bob Dylan were doing at the time -- but their duo only lasted a short time because Hunter wasn't an especially good guitarist. Hunter would, though, continue to jam with Garcia and other friends, sometimes playing mandolin, while Garcia played solo gigs and with other musicians as well, playing and moving round the Bay Area and performing with whoever he could: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia, "Railroad Bill"] "Bleshing, that was Janie's word. She said Baby told it to her. She said it meant everyone all together being something, even if they all did different things. Two arms, two legs, one body, one head, all working together, although a head can't walk and arms can't think. Lone said maybe it was a mixture of “blending” and “meshing,” but I don't think he believed that himself. It was a lot more than that." That's from More Than Human In 1961, Garcia and Hunter met another young musician, but one who was interested in a very different type of music. Phil Lesh was a serious student of modern classical music, a classically-trained violinist and trumpeter whose interest was solidly in the experimental and whose attitude can be summed up by a story that's always told about him meeting his close friend Tom Constanten for the first time. Lesh had been talking with someone about serialism, and Constanten had interrupted, saying "Music stopped being created in 1750 but it started again in 1950". Lesh just stuck out his hand, recognising a kindred spirit. Lesh and Constanten were both students of Luciano Berio, the experimental composer who created compositions for magnetic tape: [Excerpt: Luciano Berio, "Momenti"] Berio had been one of the founders of the Studio di fonologia musicale di Radio Milano, a studio for producing contemporary electronic music where John Cage had worked for a time, and he had also worked with the electronic music pioneer Karlheinz Stockhausen. Lesh would later remember being very impressed when Berio brought a tape into the classroom -- the actual multitrack tape for Stockhausen's revolutionary piece Gesang Der Juenglinge: [Excerpt: Karlheinz Stockhausen, "Gesang Der Juenglinge"] Lesh at first had been distrustful of Garcia -- Garcia was charismatic and had followers, and Lesh never liked people like that. But he was impressed by Garcia's playing, and soon realised that the two men, despite their very different musical interests, had a lot in common. Lesh was interested in the technology of music as well as in performing and composing it, and so when he wasn't studying he helped out by engineering at the university's radio station. Lesh was impressed by Garcia's playing, and suggested to the presenter of the station's folk show, the Midnight Special, that Garcia be a guest. Garcia was so good that he ended up getting an entire solo show to himself, where normally the show would feature multiple acts. Lesh and Constanten soon moved away from the Bay Area to Las Vegas, but both would be back -- in Constanten's case he would form an experimental group in San Francisco with their fellow student Steve Reich, and that group (though not with Constanten performing) would later premiere Terry Riley's In C, a piece influenced by La Monte Young and often considered one of the great masterpieces of minimalist music. By early 1962 Garcia and Hunter had formed a bluegrass band, with Garcia on guitar and banjo and Hunter on mandolin, and a rotating cast of other musicians including Ken Frankel, who played banjo and fiddle. They performed under different names, including the Tub Thumpers, the Hart Valley Drifters, and the Sleepy Valley Hog Stompers, and played a mixture of bluegrass and old-time music -- and were very careful about the distinction: [Excerpt: The Hart Valley Drifters, "Cripple Creek"] In 1993, the Republican political activist John Perry Barlow was invited to talk to the CIA about the possibilities open to them with what was then called the Information Superhighway. He later wrote, in part "They told me they'd brought Steve Jobs in a few weeks before to indoctrinate them in modern information management. And they were delighted when I returned later, bringing with me a platoon of Internet gurus, including Esther Dyson, Mitch Kapor, Tony Rutkowski, and Vint Cerf. They sealed us into an electronically impenetrable room to discuss the radical possibility that a good first step in lifting their blackout would be for the CIA to put up a Web site... We told them that information exchange was a barter system, and that to receive, one must also be willing to share. This was an alien notion to them. They weren't even willing to share information among themselves, much less the world." 1962 brought a new experience for Robert Hunter. Hunter had been recruited into taking part in psychological tests at Stanford University, which in the sixties and seventies was one of the preeminent universities for psychological experiments. As part of this, Hunter was given $140 to attend the VA hospital (where a janitor named Ken Kesey, who had himself taken part in a similar set of experiments a couple of years earlier, worked a day job while he was working on his first novel) for four weeks on the run, and take different psychedelic drugs each time, starting with LSD, so his reactions could be observed. (It was later revealed that these experiments were part of a CIA project called MKUltra, designed to investigate the possibility of using psychedelic drugs for mind control, blackmail, and torture. Hunter was quite lucky in that he was told what was going to happen to him and paid for his time. Other subjects included the unlucky customers of brothels the CIA set up as fronts -- they dosed the customers' drinks and observed them through two-way mirrors. Some of their experimental subjects died by suicide as a result of their experiences. So it goes. ) Hunter was interested in taking LSD after reading Aldous Huxley's writings about psychedelic substances, and he brought his typewriter along to the experiment. During the first test, he wrote a six-page text, a short excerpt from which is now widely quoted, reading in part "Sit back picture yourself swooping up a shell of purple with foam crests of crystal drops soft nigh they fall unto the sea of morning creep-very-softly mist ... and then sort of cascade tinkley-bell-like (must I take you by the hand, ever so slowly type) and then conglomerate suddenly into a peal of silver vibrant uncomprehendingly, blood singingly, joyously resounding bells" Hunter's experience led to everyone in their social circle wanting to try LSD, and soon they'd all come to the same conclusion -- this was something special. But Garcia needed money -- he'd got his girlfriend pregnant, and they'd married (this would be the first of several marriages in Garcia's life, and I won't be covering them all -- at Garcia's funeral, his second wife, Carolyn, said Garcia always called her the love of his life, and his first wife and his early-sixties girlfriend who he proposed to again in the nineties both simultaneously said "He said that to me!"). So he started teaching guitar at a music shop in Palo Alto. Hunter had no time for Garcia's incipient domesticity and thought that his wife was trying to make him live a conventional life, and the two drifted apart somewhat, though they'd still play together occasionally. Through working at the music store, Garcia got to know the manager, Troy Weidenheimer, who had a rock and roll band called the Zodiacs. Garcia joined the band on bass, despite that not being his instrument. He later said "Troy was a lot of fun, but I wasn't good enough a musician then to have been able to deal with it. I was out of my idiom, really, 'cause when I played with Troy I was playing electric bass, you know. I never was a good bass player. Sometimes I was playing in the wrong key and didn't even [fuckin'] know it. I couldn't hear that low, after playing banjo, you know, and going to electric...But Troy taught me the principle of, hey, you know, just stomp your foot and get on it. He was great. A great one for the instant arrangement, you know. And he was also fearless for that thing of get your friends to do it." Garcia's tenure in the Zodiacs didn't last long, nor did this experiment with rock and roll, but two other members of the Zodiacs will be notable later in the story -- the harmonica player, an old friend of Garcia's named Ron McKernan, who would soon gain the nickname Pig Pen after the Peanuts character, and the drummer, Bill Kreutzmann: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Drums/Space (Skull & Bones version)"] Kreutzmann said of the Zodiacs "Jerry was the hired bass player and I was the hired drummer. I only remember playing that one gig with them, but I was in way over my head. I always did that. I always played things that were really hard and it didn't matter. I just went for it." Garcia and Kreutzmann didn't really get to know each other then, but Garcia did get to know someone else who would soon be very important in his life. Bob Weir was from a very different background than Garcia, though both had the shared experience of long bouts of chronic illness as children. He had grown up in a very wealthy family, and had always been well-liked, but he was what we would now call neurodivergent -- reading books about the band he talks about being dyslexic but clearly has other undiagnosed neurodivergences, which often go along with dyslexia -- and as a result he was deemed to have behavioural problems which led to him getting expelled from pre-school and kicked out of the cub scouts. He was never academically gifted, thanks to his dyslexia, but he was always enthusiastic about music -- to a fault. He learned to play boogie piano but played so loudly and so often his parents sold the piano. He had a trumpet, but the neighbours complained about him playing it outside. Finally he switched to the guitar, an instrument with which it is of course impossible to make too loud a noise. The first song he learned was the Kingston Trio's version of an old sea shanty, "The Wreck of the John B": [Excerpt: The Kingston Trio, "The Wreck of the John B"] He was sent off to a private school in Colorado for teenagers with behavioural issues, and there he met the boy who would become his lifelong friend, John Perry Barlow. Unfortunately the two troublemakers got on with each other *so* well that after their first year they were told that it was too disruptive having both of them at the school, and only one could stay there the next year. Barlow stayed and Weir moved back to the Bay Area. By this point, Weir was getting more interested in folk music that went beyond the commercial folk of the Kingston Trio. As he said later "There was something in there that was ringing my bells. What I had grown up thinking of as hillbilly music, it started to have some depth for me, and I could start to hear the music in it. Suddenly, it wasn't just a bunch of ignorant hillbillies playing what they could. There was some depth and expertise and stuff like that to aspire to.” He moved from school to school but one thing that stayed with him was his love of playing guitar, and he started taking lessons from Troy Weidenheimer, but he got most of his education going to folk clubs and hootenannies. He regularly went to the Tangent, a club where Garcia played, but Garcia's bluegrass banjo playing was far too rigorous for a free spirit like Weir to emulate, and instead he started trying to copy one of the guitarists who was a regular there, Jorma Kaukonnen. On New Year's Eve 1963 Weir was out walking with his friends Bob Matthews and Rich Macauley, and they passed the music shop where Garcia was a teacher, and heard him playing his banjo. They knocked and asked if they could come in -- they all knew Garcia a little, and Bob Matthews was one of his students, having become interested in playing banjo after hearing the theme tune to the Beverly Hillbillies, played by the bluegrass greats Flatt and Scruggs: [Excerpt: Flatt and Scruggs, "The Beverly Hillbillies"] Garcia at first told these kids, several years younger than him, that they couldn't come in -- he was waiting for his students to show up. But Weir said “Jerry, listen, it's seven-thirty on New Year's Eve, and I don't think you're going to be seeing your students tonight.” Garcia realised the wisdom of this, and invited the teenagers in to jam with him. At the time, there was a bit of a renaissance in jug bands, as we talked about back in the episode on the Lovin' Spoonful. This was a form of music that had grown up in the 1920s, and was similar and related to skiffle and coffee-pot bands -- jug bands would tend to have a mixture of portable string instruments like guitars and banjos, harmonicas, and people using improvised instruments, particularly blowing into a jug. The most popular of these bands had been Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, led by banjo player Gus Cannon and with harmonica player Noah Lewis: [Excerpt: Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, "Viola Lee Blues"] With the folk revival, Cannon's work had become well-known again. The Rooftop Singers, a Kingston Trio style folk group, had had a hit with his song "Walk Right In" in 1963, and as a result of that success Cannon had even signed a record contract with Stax -- Stax's first album ever, a month before Booker T and the MGs' first album, was in fact the eighty-year-old Cannon playing his banjo and singing his old songs. The rediscovery of Cannon had started a craze for jug bands, and the most popular of the new jug bands was Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, which did a mixture of old songs like "You're a Viper" and more recent material redone in the old style. Weir, Matthews, and Macauley had been to see the Kweskin band the night before, and had been very impressed, especially by their singer Maria D'Amato -- who would later marry her bandmate Geoff Muldaur and take his name -- and her performance of Leiber and Stoller's "I'm a Woman": [Excerpt: Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, "I'm a Woman"] Matthews suggested that they form their own jug band, and Garcia eagerly agreed -- though Matthews found himself rapidly moving from banjo to washboard to kazoo to second kazoo before realising he was surplus to requirements. Robert Hunter was similarly an early member but claimed he "didn't have the embouchure" to play the jug, and was soon also out. He moved to LA and started studying Scientology -- later claiming that he wanted science-fictional magic powers, which L. Ron Hubbard's new religion certainly offered. The group took the name Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions -- apparently they varied the spelling every time they played -- and had a rotating membership that at one time or another included about twenty different people, but tended always to have Garcia on banjo, Weir on jug and later guitar, and Garcia's friend Pig Pen on harmonica: [Excerpt: Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions, "On the Road Again"] The group played quite regularly in early 1964, but Garcia's first love was still bluegrass, and he was trying to build an audience with his bluegrass band, The Black Mountain Boys. But bluegrass was very unpopular in the Bay Area, where it was simultaneously thought of as unsophisticated -- as "hillbilly music" -- and as elitist, because it required actual instrumental ability, which wasn't in any great supply in the amateur folk scene. But instrumental ability was something Garcia definitely had, as at this point he was still practising eight hours a day, every day, and it shows on the recordings of the Black Mountain Boys: [Excerpt: The Black Mountain Boys, "Rosa Lee McFall"] By the summer, Bob Weir was also working at the music shop, and so Garcia let Weir take over his students while he and the Black Mountain Boys' guitarist Sandy Rothman went on a road trip to see as many bluegrass musicians as they could and to audition for Bill Monroe himself. As it happened, Garcia found himself too shy to audition for Monroe, but Rothman later ended up playing with Monroe's Blue Grass Boys. On his return to the Bay Area, Garcia resumed playing with the Uptown Jug Champions, but Pig Pen started pestering him to do something different. While both men had overlapping tastes in music and a love for the blues, Garcia's tastes had always been towards the country end of the spectrum while Pig Pen's were towards R&B. And while the Uptown Jug Champions were all a bit disdainful of the Beatles at first -- apart from Bob Weir, the youngest of the group, who thought they were interesting -- Pig Pen had become enamoured of another British band who were just starting to make it big: [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "Not Fade Away"] 29) Garcia liked the first Rolling Stones album too, and he eventually took Pig Pen's point -- the stuff that the Rolling Stones were doing, covers of Slim Harpo and Buddy Holly, was not a million miles away from the material they were doing as Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions. Pig Pen could play a little electric organ, Bob had been fooling around with the electric guitars in the music shop. Why not give it a go? The stuff bands like the Rolling Stones were doing wasn't that different from the electric blues that Pig Pen liked, and they'd all seen A Hard Day's Night -- they could carry on playing with banjos, jugs, and kazoos and have the respect of a handful of folkies, or they could get electric instruments and potentially have screaming girls and millions of dollars, while playing the same songs. This was a convincing argument, especially when Dana Morgan Jr, the son of the owner of the music shop, told them they could have free electric instruments if they let him join on bass. Morgan wasn't that great on bass, but what the hell, free instruments. Pig Pen had the best voice and stage presence, so he became the frontman of the new group, singing most of the leads, though Jerry and Bob would both sing a few songs, and playing harmonica and organ. Weir was on rhythm guitar, and Garcia was the lead guitarist and obvious leader of the group. They just needed a drummer, and handily Bill Kreutzmann, who had played with Garcia and Pig Pen in the Zodiacs, was also now teaching music at the music shop. Not only that, but about three weeks before they decided to go electric, Kreutzmann had seen the Uptown Jug Champions performing and been astonished by Garcia's musicianship and charisma, and said to himself "Man, I'm gonna follow that guy forever!" The new group named themselves the Warlocks, and started rehearsing in earnest. Around this time, Garcia also finally managed to get some of the LSD that his friend Robert Hunter had been so enthusiastic about three years earlier, and it was a life-changing experience for him. In particular, he credited LSD with making him comfortable being a less disciplined player -- as a bluegrass player he'd had to be frighteningly precise, but now he was playing rock and needed to loosen up. A few days after taking LSD for the first time, Garcia also heard some of Bob Dylan's new material, and realised that the folk singer he'd had little time for with his preachy politics was now making electric music that owed a lot more to the Beat culture Garcia considered himself part of: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Subterranean Homesick Blues"] Another person who was hugely affected by hearing that was Phil Lesh, who later said "I couldn't believe that was Bob Dylan on AM radio, with an electric band. It changed my whole consciousness: if something like that could happen, the sky was the limit." Up to that point, Lesh had been focused entirely on his avant-garde music, working with friends like Steve Reich to push music forward, inspired by people like John Cage and La Monte Young, but now he realised there was music of value in the rock world. He'd quickly started going to rock gigs, seeing the Rolling Stones and the Byrds, and then he took acid and went to see his friend Garcia's new electric band play their third ever gig. He was blown away, and very quickly it was decided that Lesh would be the group's new bass player -- though everyone involved tells a different story as to who made the decision and how it came about, and accounts also vary as to whether Dana Morgan took his sacking gracefully and let his erstwhile bandmates keep their instruments, or whether they had to scrounge up some new ones. Lesh had never played bass before, but he was a talented multi-instrumentalist with a deep understanding of music and an ability to compose and improvise, and the repertoire the Warlocks were playing in the early days was mostly three-chord material that doesn't take much rehearsal -- though it was apparently beyond the abilities of poor Dana Morgan, who apparently had to be told note-by-note what to play by Garcia, and learn it by rote. Garcia told Lesh what notes the strings of a bass were tuned to, told him to borrow a guitar and practice, and within two weeks he was on stage with the Warlocks: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, “Grayfolded"] In September 1995, just weeks after Jerry Garcia's death, an article was published in Mute magazine identifying a cultural trend that had shaped the nineties, and would as it turned out shape at least the next thirty years. It's titled "The Californian Ideology", though it may be better titled "The Bay Area Ideology", and it identifies a worldview that had grown up in Silicon Valley, based around the ideas of the hippie movement, of right-wing libertarianism, of science fiction authors, and of Marshall McLuhan. It starts "There is an emerging global orthodoxy concerning the relation between society, technology and politics. We have called this orthodoxy `the Californian Ideology' in honour of the state where it originated. By naturalising and giving a technological proof to a libertarian political philosophy, and therefore foreclosing on alternative futures, the Californian Ideologues are able to assert that social and political debates about the future have now become meaningless. The California Ideology is a mix of cybernetics, free market economics, and counter-culture libertarianism and is promulgated by magazines such as WIRED and MONDO 2000 and preached in the books of Stewart Brand, Kevin Kelly and others. The new faith has been embraced by computer nerds, slacker students, 30-something capitalists, hip academics, futurist bureaucrats and even the President of the USA himself. As usual, Europeans have not been slow to copy the latest fashion from America. While a recent EU report recommended adopting the Californian free enterprise model to build the 'infobahn', cutting-edge artists and academics have been championing the 'post-human' philosophy developed by the West Coast's Extropian cult. With no obvious opponents, the global dominance of the Californian ideology appears to be complete." [Excerpt: Grayfolded] The Warlocks' first gig with Phil Lesh on bass was on June the 18th 1965, at a club called Frenchy's with a teenage clientele. Lesh thought his playing had been wooden and it wasn't a good gig, and apparently the management of Frenchy's agreed -- they were meant to play a second night there, but turned up to be told they'd been replaced by a band with an accordion and clarinet. But by September the group had managed to get themselves a residency at a small bar named the In Room, and playing there every night made them cohere. They were at this point playing the kind of sets that bar bands everywhere play to this day, though at the time the songs they were playing, like "Gloria" by Them and "In the Midnight Hour", were the most contemporary of hits. Another song that they introduced into their repertoire was "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, another band which had grown up out of former jug band musicians. As well as playing their own sets, they were also the house band at The In Room and as such had to back various touring artists who were the headline acts. The first act they had to back up was Cornell Gunter's version of the Coasters. Gunter had brought his own guitarist along as musical director, and for the first show Weir sat in the audience watching the show and learning the parts, staring intently at this musical director's playing. After seeing that, Weir's playing was changed, because he also picked up how the guitarist was guiding the band while playing, the small cues that a musical director will use to steer the musicians in the right direction. Weir started doing these things himself when he was singing lead -- Pig Pen was the frontman but everyone except Bill sang sometimes -- and the group soon found that rather than Garcia being the sole leader, now whoever was the lead singer for the song was the de facto conductor as well. By this point, the Bay Area was getting almost overrun with people forming electric guitar bands, as every major urban area in America was. Some of the bands were even having hits already -- We Five had had a number three hit with "You Were On My Mind", a song which had originally been performed by the folk duo Ian and Sylvia: [Excerpt: We Five, "You Were On My Mind"] Although the band that was most highly regarded on the scene, the Charlatans, was having problems with the various record companies they tried to get signed to, and didn't end up making a record until 1969. If tracks like "Number One" had been released in 1965 when they were recorded, the history of the San Francisco music scene may have taken a very different turn: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "Number One"] Bands like Jefferson Airplane, the Great Society, and Big Brother and the Holding Company were also forming, and Autumn Records was having a run of success with records by the Beau Brummels, whose records were produced by Autumn's in-house A&R man, Sly Stone: [Excerpt: The Beau Brummels, "Laugh Laugh"] The Warlocks were somewhat cut off from this, playing in a dive bar whose clientele was mostly depressed alcoholics. But the fact that they were playing every night for an audience that didn't care much gave them freedom, and they used that freedom to improvise. Both Lesh and Garcia were big fans of John Coltrane, and they started to take lessons from his style of playing. When the group played "Gloria" or "Midnight Hour" or whatever, they started to extend the songs and give themselves long instrumental passages for soloing. Garcia's playing wasn't influenced *harmonically* by Coltrane -- in fact Garcia was always a rather harmonically simple player. He'd tend to play lead lines either in Mixolydian mode, which is one of the most standard modes in rock, pop, blues, and jazz, or he'd play the notes of the chord that was being played, so if the band were playing a G chord his lead would emphasise the notes G, B, and D. But what he was influenced by was Coltrane's tendency to improvise in long, complex, phrases that made up a single thought -- Coltrane was thinking musically in paragraphs, rather than sentences, and Garcia started to try the same kind of th

Episode 162 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Daydream Believer", and the later career of the Monkees, and how four Pinocchios became real boys. 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 "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf. 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 No Mixcloud this time, as even after splitting it into multiple files, there are simply too many Monkees tracks excerpted. The best versions of the Monkees albums are the triple-CD super-deluxe versions that used to be available from monkees.com , and I've used Andrew Sandoval's liner notes for them extensively in this episode. Sadly, though, none of those are in print. However, at the time of writing there is a new four-CD super-deluxe box set of Headquarters (with a remixed version of the album rather than the original mixes I've excerpted here) available from that site, and I used the liner notes for that here. Monkees.com also currently has the intermittently-available BluRay box set of the entire Monkees TV series, which also has Head and 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee. For those just getting into the group, my advice is to start with this five-CD set, which contains their first five albums along with bonus tracks. The single biggest source of information I used in this episode is the first edition of Andrew Sandoval's The Monkees; The Day-By-Day Story. Sadly that is now out of print and goes for hundreds of pounds. Sandoval released a second edition of the book in 2021, which I was unfortunately unable to obtain, but that too is now out of print. If you can find a copy of either, do get one. Other sources used were Monkee Business by Eric Lefcowitz, and the autobiographies of three of the band members and one of the songwriters — Infinite Tuesday by Michael Nesmith, They Made a Monkee Out of Me by Davy Jones, I'm a Believer by Micky Dolenz, and Psychedelic Bubble-Gum by Bobby Hart. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript When we left the Monkees, they were in a state of flux. To recap what we covered in that episode, the Monkees were originally cast as actors in a TV show, and consisted of two actors with some singing ability -- the former child stars Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz -- and two musicians who were also competent comic actors, Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork.  The show was about a fictional band whose characters shared names with their actors, and there had quickly been two big hit singles, and two hit albums, taken from the music recorded for the TV show's soundtrack. But this had caused problems for the actors. The records were being promoted as being by the fictional group in the TV series, blurring the line between the TV show and reality, though in fact for the most part they were being made by session musicians with only Dolenz or Jones adding lead vocals to pre-recorded backing tracks. Dolenz and Jones were fine with this, but Nesmith, who had been allowed to write and produce a few album tracks himself, wanted more creative input, and more importantly felt that he was being asked to be complicit in fraud because the records credited the four Monkees as the musicians when (other than a tiny bit of inaudible rhythm guitar by Tork on a couple of Nesmith's tracks) none of them played on them. Tork, meanwhile, believed he had been promised that the group would be an actual group -- that they would all be playing on the records together -- and felt hurt and annoyed that this wasn't the case. They were by now playing live together to promote the series and the records, with Dolenz turning out to be a perfectly competent drummer, so surely they could do the same in the studio? So in January 1967, things came to a head. It's actually quite difficult to sort out exactly what happened, because of conflicting recollections and opinions. What follows is my best attempt to harmonise the different versions of the story into one coherent narrative, but be aware that I could be wrong in some of the details. Nesmith and Tork, who disliked each other in most respects, were both agreed that this couldn't continue and that if there were going to be Monkees records released at all, they were going to have the Monkees playing on them. Dolenz, who seems to have been the one member of the group that everyone could get along with, didn't really care but went along with them for the sake of group harmony. And Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider, the production team behind the series, also took Nesmith and Tork's side, through a general love of mischief. But on the other side was Don Kirshner, the music publisher who was in charge of supervising the music for the TV show. Kirshner was adamantly, angrily, opposed to the very idea of the group members having any input at all into how the records were made. He considered that they should be grateful for the huge pay cheques they were getting from records his staff writers and producers were making for them, and stop whinging. And Davy Jones was somewhere in the middle. He wanted to support his co-stars, who he genuinely liked, but also, he was a working actor, he'd had other roles before, he'd have other roles afterwards, and as a working actor you do what you're told if you don't want to lose the job you've got. Jones had grown up in very severe poverty, and had been his family's breadwinner from his early teens, and artistic integrity is all very nice, but not as nice as a cheque for a quarter of a million dollars. Although that might be slightly unfair -- it might be fairer to say that artistic integrity has a different meaning to someone like Jones, coming from musical theatre and a tradition of "the show must go on", than it does to people like Nesmith and Tork who had come up through the folk clubs. Jones' attitude may also have been affected by the fact that his character in the TV show didn't play an instrument other than the occasional tambourine or maracas. The other three were having to mime instrumental parts they hadn't played, and to reproduce them on stage, but Jones didn't have that particular disadvantage. Bert Schneider, one of the TV show's producers, encouraged the group to go into the recording studio themselves, with a producer of their choice, and cut a couple of tracks to prove what they could do. Michael Nesmith, who at this point was the one who was most adamant about taking control of the music, chose Chip Douglas to produce. Douglas was someone that Nesmith had known a little while, as they'd both played the folk circuit -- in Douglas' case as a member of the Modern Folk Quartet -- but Douglas had recently joined the Turtles as their new bass player. At this point, Douglas had never officially produced a record, but he was a gifted arranger, and had just arranged the Turtles' latest single, which had just been released and was starting to climb the charts: [Excerpt: The Turtles, "Happy Together"] Douglas quit the Turtles to work with the Monkees, and took the group into the studio to cut two demo backing tracks for a potential single as a proof of concept. These initial sessions didn't have any vocals, but featured Nesmith on guitar, Tork on piano, Dolenz on drums, Jones on tambourine, and an unknown bass player -- possibly Douglas himself, possibly Nesmith's friend John London, who he'd played with in Mike and John and Bill. They cut rough tracks of two songs, "All of Your Toys", by another friend of Nesmith's, Bill Martin, and Nesmith's "The Girl I Knew Somewhere": [Excerpt: The Monkees, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere (Gold Star Demo)"] Those tracks were very rough and ready -- they were garage-band tracks rather than the professional studio recordings that the Candy Store Prophets or Jeff Barry's New York session players had provided for the previous singles -- but they were competent in the studio, thanks largely to Chip Douglas' steadying influence. As Douglas later said "They could hardly play. Mike could play adequate rhythm guitar. Pete could play piano but he'd make mistakes, and Micky's time on drums was erratic. He'd speed up or slow down." But the takes they managed to get down showed that they *could* do it. Rafelson and Schneider agreed with them that the Monkees could make a single together, and start recording at least some of their own tracks. So the group went back into the studio, with Douglas producing -- and with Lester Sill from the music publishers there to supervise -- and cut finished versions of the two songs. This time the lineup was Nesmith on guitar, Tork on electric harpsichord -- Tork had always been a fan of Bach, and would in later years perform Bach pieces as his solo spot in Monkees shows -- Dolenz on drums, London on bass, and Jones on tambourine: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere (first recorded version)"] But while this was happening, Kirshner had been trying to get new Monkees material recorded without them -- he'd not yet agreed to having the group play on their own records. Three days after the sessions for "All of Your Toys" and "The Girl I Knew Somewhere", sessions started in New York for an entire album's worth of new material, produced by Jeff Barry and Denny Randell, and largely made by the same Red Bird Records team who had made "I'm a Believer" -- the same musicians who in various combinations had played on everything from "Sherry" by the Four Seasons to "Like a Rolling Stone" by Dylan to "Leader of the Pack", and with songs by Neil Diamond, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, Leiber and Stoller, and the rest of the team of songwriters around Red Bird. But at this point came the meeting we talked about towards the end of the "Last Train to Clarksville" episode, in which Nesmith punched a hole in a hotel wall in frustration at what he saw as Kirshner's obstinacy. Kirshner didn't want to listen to the recordings the group had made. He'd promised Jeff Barry and Neil Diamond that if "I'm a Believer" went to number one, Barry would get to produce, and Diamond write, the group's next single. Chip Douglas wasn't a recognised producer, and he'd made this commitment. But the group needed a new single out. A compromise was offered, of sorts, by Kirshner -- how about if Barry flew over from New York to LA to produce the group, they'd scrap the tracks both the group and Barry had recorded, and Barry would produce new tracks for the songs he'd recorded, with the group playing on them? But that wouldn't work either. The group members were all due to go on holiday -- three of them were going to make staggered trips to the UK, partly to promote the TV series, which was just starting over here, and partly just to have a break. They'd been working sixty-plus hour weeks for months between the TV series, live performances, and the recording studio, and they were basically falling-down tired, which was one of the reasons for Nesmith's outburst in the meeting. They weren't accomplished enough musicians to cut tracks quickly, and they *needed* the break. On top of that, Nesmith and Barry had had a major falling-out at the "I'm a Believer" session, and Nesmith considered it a matter of personal integrity that he couldn't work with a man who in his eyes had insulted his professionalism. So that was out, but there was also no way Kirshner was going to let the group release a single consisting of two songs he hadn't heard, produced by a producer with no track record. At first, the group were insistent that "All of Your Toys" should be the A-side for their next single: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "All Of Your Toys"] But there was an actual problem with that which they hadn't foreseen. Bill Martin, who wrote the song, was under contract to another music publisher, and the Monkees' contracts said they needed to only record songs published by Screen Gems. Eventually, it was Micky Dolenz who managed to cut the Gordian knot -- or so everyone thought. Dolenz was the one who had the least at stake of any of them -- he was already secure as the voice of the hits, he had no particular desire to be an instrumentalist, but he wanted to support his colleagues. Dolenz suggested that it would be a reasonable compromise to put out a single with one of the pre-recorded backing tracks on one side, with him or Jones singing, and with the version of "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" that the band had recorded together on the other. That way, Kirshner and the record label would get their new single without too much delay, the group would still be able to say they'd started recording their own tracks, everyone would get some of what they wanted. So it was agreed -- though there was a further stipulation. "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" had Nesmith singing lead vocals, and up to that point every Monkees single had featured Dolenz on lead on both sides. As far as Kirshner and the other people involved in making the release decisions were concerned, that was the way things were going to continue. Everyone was fine with this -- Nesmith, the one who was most likely to object in principle, in practice realised that having Dolenz sing his song would make it more likely to be played on the radio and used in the TV show, and so increase his royalties. A vocal session was arranged in New York for Dolenz and Jones to come and cut some vocal tracks right before Dolenz and Nesmith flew over to the UK. But in the meantime, it had become even more urgent for the group to be seen to be doing their own recording. An in-depth article on the group in the Saturday Evening Post had come out, quoting Nesmith as saying "It was what Kirshner wanted to do. Our records are not our forte. I don't care if we never sell another record. Maybe we were manufactured and put on the air strictly with a lot of hoopla. Tell the world we're synthetic because, damn it, we are. Tell them the Monkees are wholly man-made overnight, that millions of dollars have been poured into this thing. Tell the world we don't record our own music. But that's us they see on television. The show is really a part of us. They're not seeing something invalid." The press immediately jumped on the band, and started trying to portray them as con artists exploiting their teenage fans, though as Nesmith later said "The press decided they were going to unload on us as being somehow illegitimate, somehow false. That we were making an attempt to dupe the public, when in fact it was me that was making the attempt to maintain the integrity. So the press went into a full-scale war against us." Tork, on the other hand, while he and Nesmith were on the same side about the band making their own records, blamed Nesmith for much of the press reaction, later saying "Michael blew the whistle on us. If he had gone in there with pride and said 'We are what we are and we have no reason to hang our heads in shame' it never would have happened." So as far as the group were concerned, they *needed* to at least go with Dolenz's suggested compromise. Their personal reputations were on the line. When Dolenz arrived at the session in New York, he was expecting to be asked to cut one vocal track, for the A-side of the next single (and presumably a new lead vocal for "The Girl I Knew Somewhere"). When he got there, though, he found that Kirshner expected him to record several vocals so that Kirshner could choose the best. That wasn't what had been agreed, and so Dolenz flat-out refused to record anything at all. Luckily for Kirshner, Jones -- who was the most co-operative member of the band -- was willing to sing a handful of songs intended for Dolenz as well as the ones he was meant to sing. So the tape of "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You", the song intended for the next single, was slowed down so it would be in a suitable key for Jones instead, and he recorded the vocal for that: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You"] Incidentally, while Jones recorded vocals for several more tracks at the session -- and some would later be reused as album tracks a few years down the line -- not all of the recorded tracks were used for vocals, and this later gave rise to a rumour that has been repeated as fact by almost everyone involved, though it was a misunderstanding. Kirshner's next major success after the Monkees was another made-for-TV fictional band, the Archies, and their biggest hit was "Sugar Sugar", co-written and produced by Jeff Barry: [Excerpt: The Archies, "Sugar Sugar"] Both Kirshner and the Monkees have always claimed that the Monkees were offered "Sugar, Sugar" and turned it down. To Kirshner the moral of the story was that since "Sugar, Sugar" was a massive hit, it proved his instincts right and proved that the Monkees didn't know what would make a hit. To the Monkees, on the other hand, it showed that Kirshner wanted them to do bubblegum music that they considered ridiculous. This became such an established factoid that Dolenz regularly tells the story in his live performances, and includes a version of "Sugar, Sugar" in them, rearranged as almost a torch song: [Excerpt: Micky Dolenz, "Sugar, Sugar (live)"] But in fact, "Sugar, Sugar" wasn't written until long after Kirshner and the Monkees had parted ways. But one of the songs for which a backing track was recorded but no vocals were ever completed was "Sugar Man", a song by Denny Randell and Sandy Linzer, which they would later release themselves as an unsuccessful single: [Excerpt: Linzer and Randell, "Sugar Man"] Over the years, the Monkees not recording "Sugar Man" became the Monkees not recording "Sugar, Sugar". Meanwhile, Dolenz and Nesmith had flown over to the UK to do some promotional work and relax, and Jones soon also flew over, though didn't hang out with his bandmates, preferring to spend more time with his family. Both Dolenz and Nesmith spent a lot of time hanging out with British pop stars, and were pleased to find that despite the manufactured controversy about them being a manufactured group, none of the British musicians they admired seemed to care. Eric Burdon, for example, was quoted in the Melody Maker as saying "They make very good records, I can't understand how people get upset about them. You've got to make up your minds whether a group is a record production group or one that makes live appearances. For example, I like to hear a Phil Spector record and I don't worry if it's the Ronettes or Ike and Tina Turner... I like the Monkees record as a grand record, no matter how people scream. So somebody made a record and they don't play, so what? Just enjoy the record." Similarly, the Beatles were admirers of the Monkees, especially the TV show, despite being expected to have a negative opinion of them, as you can hear in this contemporary recording of Paul McCartney answering a fan's questions: Excerpt: Paul McCartney talks about the Monkees] Both Dolenz and Nesmith hung out with the Beatles quite a bit -- they both visited Sgt. Pepper recording sessions, and if you watch the film footage of the orchestral overdubs for "A Day in the Life", Nesmith is there with all the other stars of the period. Nesmith and his wife Phyllis even stayed with the Lennons for a couple of days, though Cynthia Lennon seems to have thought of the Nesmiths as annoying intruders who had been invited out of politeness and not realised they weren't wanted. That seems plausible, but at the same time, John Lennon doesn't seem the kind of person to not make his feelings known, and Michael Nesmith's reports of the few days they stayed there seem to describe a very memorable experience, where after some initial awkwardness he developed a bond with Lennon, particularly once he saw that Lennon was a fan of Captain Beefheart, who was a friend of Nesmith, and whose Safe as Milk album Lennon was examining when Nesmith turned up, and whose music at this point bore a lot of resemblance to the kind of thing Nesmith was doing: [Excerpt: Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, "Yellow Brick Road"] Or at least, that's how Nesmith always told the story later -- though Safe as Milk didn't come out until nearly six months later. It's possible he's conflating memories from a later trip to the UK in June that year -- where he also talked about how Lennon was the only person he'd really got on with on the previous trip, because "he's a compassionate person. I know he has a reputation for being caustic, but it is only a cover for the depth of his feeling." Nesmith and Lennon apparently made some experimental music together during the brief stay, with Nesmith being impressed by Lennon's Mellotron and later getting one himself. Dolenz, meanwhile, was spending more time with Paul McCartney, and with Spencer Davis of his current favourite band The Spencer Davis Group. But even more than that he was spending a lot of time with Samantha Juste, a model and TV presenter whose job it was to play the records on Top of the Pops, the most important British TV pop show, and who had released a record herself a couple of months earlier, though it hadn't been a success: [Excerpt: Samantha Juste, "No-one Needs My Love Today"] The two quickly fell deeply in love, and Juste would become Dolenz's first wife the next year. When Nesmith and Dolenz arrived back in the US after their time off, they thought the plan was still to release "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" with "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" on the B-side. So Nesmith was horrified to hear on the radio what the announcer said were the two sides of the new Monkees single -- "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You", and "She Hangs Out", another song from the Jeff Barry sessions with a Davy vocal. Don Kirshner had gone ahead and picked two songs from the Jeff Barry sessions and delivered them to RCA Records, who had put a single out in Canada. The single was very, *very* quickly withdrawn once the Monkees and the TV producers found out, and only promo copies seem to circulate -- rather than being credited to "the Monkees", both sides are credited to '"My Favourite Monkee" Davy Jones Sings'. The record had been withdrawn, but "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" was clearly going to have to be the single. Three days after the record was released and pulled, Nesmith, Dolenz and Tork were back in the studio with Chip Douglas, recording a new B-side -- a new version of "The Girl I Knew Somewhere", this time with Dolenz on vocals. As Jones was still in the UK, John London added the tambourine part as well as the bass: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere (single version)"] As Nesmith told the story a couple of months later, "Bert said 'You've got to get this thing in Micky's key for Micky to sing it.' I said 'Has Donnie made a commitment? I don't want to go there and break my neck in order to get this thing if Donnie hasn't made a commitment. And Bert refused to say anything. He said 'I can't tell you anything except just go and record.'" What had happened was that the people at Columbia had had enough of Kirshner. As far as Rafelson and Schneider were concerned, the real problem in all this was that Kirshner had been making public statements taking all the credit for the Monkees' success and casting himself as the puppetmaster. They thought this was disrespectful to the performers -- and unstated but probably part of it, that it was disrespectful to Rafelson and Schneider for their work putting the TV show together -- and that Kirshner had allowed his ego to take over. Things like the liner notes for More of the Monkees which made Kirshner and his stable of writers more important than the performers had, in the view of the people at Raybert Productions, put the Monkees in an impossible position and forced them to push back. Schneider later said "Kirshner had an ego that transcended everything else. As a matter of fact, the press issue was probably magnified a hundred times over because of Kirshner. He wanted everybody thinking 'Hey, he's doing all this, not them.' In the end it was very self-destructive because it heightened the whole press issue and it made them feel lousy." Kirshner was out of a job, first as the supervisor for the Monkees and then as the head of Columbia/Screen Gems Music. In his place came Lester Sill, the man who had got Leiber and Stoller together as songwriters, who had been Lee Hazelwood's production partner on his early records with Duane Eddy, and who had been the "Les" in Philles Records until Phil Spector pushed him out. Sill, unlike Kirshner, was someone who was willing to take a back seat and just be a steadying hand where needed. The reissued version of "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" went to number two on the charts, behind "Somethin' Stupid" by Frank and Nancy Sinatra, produced by Sill's old colleague Hazelwood, and the B-side, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere", also charted separately, making number thirty-nine on the charts. The Monkees finally had a hit that they'd written and recorded by themselves. Pinocchio had become a real boy: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere (single version)"] At the same session at which they'd recorded that track, the Monkees had recorded another Nesmith song, "Sunny Girlfriend", and that became the first song to be included on a new album, which would eventually be named Headquarters, and on which all the guitar, keyboard, drums, percussion, banjo, pedal steel, and backing vocal parts would for the first time be performed by the Monkees themselves. They brought in horn and string players on a couple of tracks, and the bass was variously played by John London, Chip Douglas, and Jerry Yester as Tork was more comfortable on keyboards and guitar than bass, but it was in essence a full band album. Jones got back the next day, and sessions began in earnest. The first song they recorded after his return was "Mr. Webster", a Boyce and Hart song that had been recorded with the Candy Store Prophets in 1966 but hadn't been released. This was one of three tracks on the album that were rerecordings of earlier outtakes, and it's fascinating to compare them, to see the strengths and weaknesses of both approaches. In the case of "Mr. Webster", the instrumental backing on the earlier version is definitely slicker: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Mr. Webster (1st Recorded Version)"] But at the same time, there's a sense of dynamics in the group recording that's lacking from the original, like the backing dropping out totally on the word "Stop" -- a nice touch that isn't in the original. I am only speculating, but this may have been inspired by the similar emphasis on the word "stop" in "For What It's Worth" by Tork's old friend Stephen Stills: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Mr. Webster (album version)"] Headquarters was a group album in another way though -- for the first time, Tork and Dolenz were bringing in songs they'd written -- Nesmith of course had supplied songs already for the two previous albums. Jones didn't write any songs himself yet, though he'd start on the next album, but he was credited with the rest of the group on two joke tracks, "Band 6", a jam on the Merrie Melodies theme “Merrily We Roll Along”, and "Zilch", a track made up of the four band members repeating nonsense phrases: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Zilch"] Oddly, that track had a rather wider cultural resonance than a piece of novelty joke album filler normally would. It's sometimes covered live by They Might Be Giants: [Excerpt: They Might Be Giants, "Zilch"] While the rapper Del Tha Funkee Homosapien had a worldwide hit in 1991 with "Mistadobalina", built around a sample of Peter Tork from the track: [Excerpt: Del Tha Funkee Homosapien,"Mistadobalina"] Nesmith contributed three songs, all of them combining Beatles-style pop music and country influences, none more blatantly than the opening track, "You Told Me", which starts off parodying the opening of "Taxman", before going into some furious banjo-picking from Tork: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "You Told Me"] Tork, meanwhile, wrote "For Pete's Sake" with his flatmate of the time, and that became the end credits music for season two of the TV series: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "For Pete's Sake"] But while the other band members made important contributions, the track on the album that became most popular was the first song of Dolenz's to be recorded by the group. The lyrics recounted, in a semi-psychedelic manner, Dolenz's time in the UK, including meeting with the Beatles, who the song refers to as "the four kings of EMI", but the first verse is all about his new girlfriend Samantha Juste: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Randy Scouse Git"] The song was released as a single in the UK, but there was a snag. Dolenz had given the song a title he'd heard on an episode of the BBC sitcom Til Death Us Do Part, which he'd found an amusing bit of British slang. Til Death Us Do Part was written by Johnny Speight, a writer with Associated London Scripts, and was a family sitcom based around the character of Alf Garnett, an ignorant, foul-mouthed reactionary bigot who hated young people, socialists, and every form of minority, especially Black people (who he would address by various slurs I'm definitely not going to repeat here), and was permanently angry at the world and abusive to his wife. As with another great sitcom from ALS, Steptoe and Son, which Norman Lear adapted for the US as Sanford and Son, Til Death Us Do Part was also adapted by Lear, and became All in the Family. But while Archie Bunker, the character based on Garnett in the US version, has some redeeming qualities because of the nature of US network sitcom, Alf Garnett has absolutely none, and is as purely unpleasant and unsympathetic a character as has ever been created -- which sadly didn't stop a section of the audience from taking him as a character to be emulated. A big part of the show's dynamic was the relationship between Garnett and his socialist son-in-law from Liverpool, played by Anthony Booth, himself a Liverpudlian socialist who would later have a similarly contentious relationship with his own decidedly non-socialist son-in-law, the future Prime Minister Tony Blair. Garnett was as close to foul-mouthed as was possible on British TV at the time, with Speight regularly negotiating with the BBC bosses to be allowed to use terms that were not otherwise heard on TV, and used various offensive terms about his family, including referring to his son-in-law as a "randy Scouse git". Dolenz had heard the phrase on TV, had no idea what it meant but loved the sound of it, and gave the song that title. But when the record came out in the UK, he was baffled to be told that the phrase -- which he'd picked up from a BBC TV show, after all -- couldn't be said normally on BBC broadcasts, so they would need to retitle the track. The translation into American English that Dolenz uses in his live shows to explain this to Americans is to say that "randy Scouse git" means "horny Liverpudlian putz", and that's more or less right. Dolenz took the need for an alternative title literally, and so the track that went to number two in the UK charts was titled "Alternate Title": [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Randy Scouse Git"] The album itself went to number one in both the US and the UK, though it was pushed off the top spot almost straight away by the release of Sgt Pepper. As sessions for Headquarters were finishing up, the group were already starting to think about their next album -- season two of the TV show was now in production, and they'd need to keep generating yet more musical material for it. One person they turned to was a friend of Chip Douglas'. Before the Turtles, Douglas had been in the Modern Folk Quartet, and they'd recorded "This Could Be the Night", which had been written for them by Harry Nilsson: [Excerpt: The MFQ, "This Could Be The Night"] Nilsson had just started recording his first solo album proper, at RCA Studios, the same studios that the Monkees were using. At this point, Nilsson still had a full-time job in a bank, working a night shift there while working on his album during the day, but Douglas knew that Nilsson was a major talent, and that assessment was soon shared by the group when Nilsson came in to demo nine of his songs for them: [Excerpt: Harry Nilsson, "1941 (demo)"] According to Nilsson, Nesmith said after that demo session "You just sat down there and blew our minds. We've been looking for songs, and you just sat down and played an *album* for us!" While the Monkees would attempt a few of Nilsson's songs over the next year or so, the first one they chose to complete was the first track recorded for their next album, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, and Jones, Ltd., a song which from the talkback at the beginning of the demo was always intended for Davy Jones to sing: [Excerpt: Harry Nilsson, "Cuddly Toy (demo)"] Oddly, given his romantic idol persona, a lot of the songs given to Jones to sing were anti-romantic, and often had a cynical and misogynistic edge. This had started with the first album's "I Want to Be Free", but by Pisces, it had gone to ridiculous extremes. Of the four songs Jones sings on the album, "Hard to Believe", the first song proper that he ever co-wrote, is a straightforward love  song, but the other three have a nasty edge to them. A remade version of Jeff Barry's "She Hangs Out" is about an underaged girl, starts with the lines "How old d'you say your sister was? You know you'd better keep an eye on her" and contains lines like "she could teach you a thing or two" and "you'd better get down here on the double/before she gets her pretty little self in trouble/She's so fine". Goffin and King's "Star Collector" is worse, a song about a groupie with lines like "How can I love her, if I just don't respect her?" and "It won't take much time, before I get her off my mind" But as is so often the way, these rather nasty messages were wrapped up in some incredibly catchy music, and that was even more the case with "Cuddly Toy", a song which at least is more overtly unpleasant -- it's very obvious that Nilsson doesn't intend the protagonist of the song to be at all sympathetic, which is possibly not the case in "She Hangs Out" or "Star Collector". But the character Jones is singing is *viciously* cruel here, mocking and taunting a girl who he's coaxed to have sex with him, only to scorn her as soon as he's got what he wanted: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Cuddly Toy"] It's a great song if you like the cruelest of humour combined with the cheeriest of music, and the royalties from the song allowed Nilsson to quit the job at the bank. "Cuddly Toy", and Chip Douglas and Bill Martin's song "The Door Into Summer", were recorded the same way as Headquarters, with the group playing *as a group*, but as recordings for the album progressed the group fell into a new way of working, which Peter Tork later dubbed "mixed-mode". They didn't go back to having tracks cut for them by session musicians, apart from Jones' song "Hard to Believe", for which the entire backing track was created by one of his co-writers overdubbing himself, but Dolenz, who Tork always said was "incapable of repeating a triumph", was not interested in continuing to play drums in the studio. Instead, a new hybrid Monkees would perform most of the album. Nesmith would still play the lead guitar, Tork would provide the keyboards, Chip Douglas would play all the bass and add some additional guitar, and "Fast" Eddie Hoh, the session drummer who had been a touring drummer with the Modern Folk Quartet and the Mamas and the Papas, among others, would play drums on the records, with Dolenz occasionally adding a bit of acoustic guitar. And this was the lineup that would perform on the hit single from Pisces. "Pleasant Valley Sunday" was written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King, who had written several songs for the group's first two albums (and who would continue to provide them with more songs). As with their earlier songs for the group, King had recorded a demo: [Excerpt: Carole King, "Pleasant Valley Sunday (demo)"] Previously -- and subsequently -- when presented with a Carole King demo, the group and their producers would just try to duplicate it as closely as possible, right down to King's phrasing. Bob Rafelson has said that he would sometimes hear those demos and wonder why King didn't just make records herself -- and without wanting to be too much of a spoiler for a few years' time, he wasn't the only one wondering that. But this time, the group had other plans. In particular, they wanted to make a record with a strong guitar riff to it -- Nesmith has later referenced their own "Last Train to Clarksville" and the Beatles' "Day Tripper" as two obvious reference points for the track. Douglas came up with a riff and taught it to Nesmith, who played it on the track: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Pleasant Valley Sunday"] The track also ended with the strongest psychedelic -- or "psycho jello" as the group would refer to it -- freak out that they'd done to this point, a wash of saturated noise: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Pleasant Valley Sunday"] King was unhappy with the results, and apparently glared at Douglas the next time they met. This may be because of the rearrangement from her intentions, but it may also be for a reason that Douglas later suspected. When recording the track, he hadn't been able to remember all the details of her demo, and in particular he couldn't remember exactly how the middle eight went. This is the version on King's demo: [Excerpt: Carole King, "Pleasant Valley Sunday (demo)"] While here's how the Monkees rendered it, with slightly different lyrics: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Pleasant Valley Sunday"] I also think there's a couple of chord changes in the second verse that differ between King and the Monkees, but I can't be sure that's not my ears deceiving me. Either way, though, the track was a huge success, and became one of the group's most well-known and well-loved tracks, making number three on the charts behind "All You Need is Love" and "Light My Fire". And while it isn't Dolenz drumming on the track, the fact that it's Nesmith playing guitar and Tork on the piano -- and the piano part is one of the catchiest things on the record -- meant that they finally had a proper major hit on which they'd played (and it seems likely that Dolenz contributed some of the acoustic rhythm guitar on the track, along with Bill Chadwick, and if that's true all three Monkee instrumentalists did play on the track). Pisces is by far and away the best album the group ever made, and stands up well against anything else that came out around that time. But cracks were beginning to show in the group. In particular, the constant battle to get some sort of creative input had soured Nesmith on the whole project. Chip Douglas later said "When we were doing Pisces Michael would come in with three songs; he knew he had three songs coming on the album. He knew that he was making a lot of money if he got his original songs on there. So he'd be real enthusiastic and cooperative and real friendly and get his three songs done. Then I'd say 'Mike, can you come in and help on this one we're going to do with Micky here?' He said 'No, Chip, I can't. I'm busy.' I'd say, 'Mike, you gotta come in the studio.' He'd say 'No Chip, I'm afraid I'm just gonna have to be ornery about it. I'm not comin' in.' That's when I started not liking Mike so much any more." Now, as is so often the case with the stories from this period, this appears to be inaccurate in the details -- Nesmith is present on every track on the album except Jones' solo "Hard to Believe" and Tork's spoken-word track "Peter Percival Patterson's Pet Pig Porky", and indeed this is by far the album with *most* Nesmith input, as he takes five lead vocals, most of them on songs he didn't write. But Douglas may well be summing up Nesmith's *attitude* to the band at this point -- listening to Nesmith's commentaries on episodes of the TV show, by this point he felt disengaged from everything that was going on, like his opinions weren't welcome. That said, Nesmith did still contribute what is possibly the single most innovative song the group ever did, though the innovations weren't primarily down to Nesmith: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Daily Nightly"] Nesmith always described the lyrics to "Daily Nightly" as being about the riots on Sunset Strip, but while they're oblique, they seem rather to be about streetwalking sex workers -- though it's perhaps understandable that Nesmith would never admit as much. What made the track innovative was the use of the Moog synthesiser. We talked about Robert Moog in the episode on "Good Vibrations" -- he had started out as a Theremin manufacturer, and had built the ribbon synthesiser that Mike Love played live on "Good Vibrations", and now he was building the first commercially available easily usable synthesisers. Previously, electronic instruments had either been things like the clavioline -- a simple monophonic keyboard instrument that didn't have much tonal variation -- or the RCA Mark II, a programmable synth that could make a wide variety of sounds, but took up an entire room and was programmed with punch cards. Moog's machines were bulky but still transportable, and they could be played in real time with a keyboard, but were still able to be modified to make a wide variety of different sounds. While, as we've seen, there had been electronic keyboard instruments as far back as the 1930s, Moog's instruments were for all intents and purposes the first synthesisers as we now understand the term. The Moog was introduced in late spring 1967, and immediately started to be used for making experimental and novelty records, like Hal Blaine's track "Love In", which came out at the beginning of June: [Excerpt: Hal Blaine, "Love In"] And the Electric Flag's soundtrack album for The Trip, the drug exploitation film starring Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper and written by Jack Nicholson we talked about last time, when Arthur Lee moved into a house used in the film: [Excerpt: The Electric Flag, "Peter's Trip"] In 1967 there were a total of six albums released with a Moog on them (as well as one non-album experimental single). Four of the albums were experimental or novelty instrumental albums of this type. Only two of them were rock albums -- Strange Days by the Doors, and Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, & Jones Ltd by the Monkees. The Doors album was released first, but I believe the Monkees tracks were recorded before the Doors overdubbed the Moog on the tracks on their album, though some session dates are hard to pin down exactly. If that's the case it would make the Monkees the very first band to use the Moog on an actual rock record (depending on exactly how you count the Trip soundtrack -- this gets back again to my old claim that there's no first anything). But that's not the only way in which "Daily Nightly" was innovative. All the first seven albums to feature the Moog featured one man playing the instrument -- Paul Beaver, the Moog company's West Coast representative, who played on all the novelty records by members of the Wrecking Crew, and on the albums by the Electric Flag and the Doors, and on The Notorious Byrd Brothers by the Byrds, which came out in early 1968. And Beaver did play the Moog on one track on Pisces, "Star Collector". But on "Daily Nightly" it's Micky Dolenz playing the Moog, making him definitely the second person ever to play a Moog on a record of any kind: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Daily Nightly"] Dolenz indeed had bought his own Moog -- widely cited as being the second one ever in private ownership, a fact I can't check but which sounds plausible given that by 1970 less than thirty musicians owned one -- after seeing Beaver demonstrate the instrument at the Monterey Pop Festival. The Monkees hadn't played Monterey, but both Dolenz and Tork had attended the festival -- if you watch the famous film of it you see Dolenz and his girlfriend Samantha in the crowd a *lot*, while Tork introduced his friends in the Buffalo Springfield. As well as discovering the Moog there, Dolenz had been astonished by something else: [Excerpt: The Jimi Hendrix Experience, "Hey Joe (Live at Monterey)"] As Peter Tork later put it "I didn't get it. At Monterey Jimi followed the Who and the Who busted up their things and Jimi bashed up his guitar. I said 'I just saw explosions and destruction. Who needs it?' But Micky got it. He saw the genius and went for it." Dolenz was astonished by Hendrix, and insisted that he should be the support act on the group's summer tour. This pairing might sound odd on paper, but it made more sense at the time than it might sound. The Monkees were by all accounts a truly astonishing live act at this point -- Frank Zappa gave them a backhanded compliment by saying they were the best-sounding band in LA, before pointing out that this was because they could afford the best equipment. That *was* true, but it was also the case that their TV experience gave them a different attitude to live performance than anyone else performing at the time. A handful of groups had started playing stadiums, most notably of course the Beatles, but all of these acts had come up through playing clubs and theatres and essentially just kept doing their old act with no thought as to how the larger space worked, except to put their amps through a louder PA. The Monkees, though, had *started* in stadiums, and had started out as mass entertainers, and so their live show was designed from the ground up to play to those larger spaces. They had costume changes, elaborate stage sets -- like oversized fake Vox amps they burst out of at the start of the show -- a light show and a screen on which film footage was projected. In effect they invented stadium performances as we now know them. Nesmith later said "In terms of putting on a show there was never any question in my mind, as far as the rock 'n' roll era is concerned, that we put on probably the finest rock and roll stage show ever. It was beautifully lit, beautifully costumed, beautifully produced. I mean, for Christ sakes, it was practically a revue." The Monkees were confident enough in their stage performance that at a recent show at the Hollywood Bowl they'd had Ike and Tina Turner as their opening act -- not an act you'd want to go on after if you were going to be less than great, and an act from very similar chitlin' circuit roots to Jimi Hendrix. So from their perspective, it made sense. If you're going to be spectacular yourselves, you have no need to fear a spectacular opening act. Hendrix was less keen -- he was about the only musician in Britain who *had* made disparaging remarks about the Monkees -- but opening for the biggest touring band in the world isn't an opportunity you pass up, and again it isn't such a departure as one might imagine from the bills he was already playing. Remember that Monterey is really the moment when "pop" and "rock" started to split -- the split we've been talking about for a few months now -- and so the Jimi Hendrix Experience were still considered a pop band, and as such had played the normal British pop band package tours. In March and April that year, they'd toured on a bill with the Walker Brothers, Cat Stevens, and Englebert Humperdinck -- and Hendrix had even filled in for Humperdinck's sick guitarist on one occasion. Nesmith, Dolenz, and Tork all loved having Hendrix on tour with them, just because it gave them a chance to watch him live every night (Jones, whose musical tastes were more towards Anthony Newley, wasn't especially impressed), and they got on well on a personal level -- there are reports of Hendrix jamming with Dolenz and Steve Stills in hotel rooms. But there was one problem, as Dolenz often recreates in his live act: [Excerpt: Micky Dolenz, "Purple Haze"] The audience response to Hendrix from the Monkees' fans was so poor that by mutual agreement he left the tour after only a handful of shows. After the summer tour, the group went back to work on the TV show and their next album. Or, rather, four individuals went back to work. By this point, the group had drifted apart from each other, and from Douglas -- Tork, the one who was still keenest on the idea of the group as a group, thought that Pisces, good as it was, felt like a Chip Douglas album rather than a Monkees album. The four band members had all by now built up their own retinues of hangers-on and collaborators, and on set for the TV show they were now largely staying with their own friends rather than working as a group. And that was now reflected in their studio work. From now on, rather than have a single producer working with them as a band, the four men would work as individuals, producing their own tracks, occasionally with outside help, and bringing in session musicians to work on them. Some tracks from this point on would be genuine Monkees -- plural -- tracks, and all tracks would be credited as "produced by the Monkees", but basically the four men would from now on be making solo tracks which would be combined into albums, though Dolenz and Jones would occasionally guest on tracks by the others, especially when Nesmith came up with a song he thought would be more suited to their voices. Indeed the first new recording that happened after the tour was an entire Nesmith solo album -- a collection of instrumental versions of his songs, called The Wichita Train Whistle Sings, played by members of the Wrecking Crew and a few big band instrumentalists, arranged by Shorty Rogers. [Excerpt: Michael Nesmith, "You Told Me"] Hal Blaine in his autobiography claimed that the album was created as a tax write-off for Nesmith, though Nesmith always vehemently denied it, and claimed it was an artistic experiment, though not one that came off well. Released alongside Pisces, though, came one last group-recorded single. The B-side, "Goin' Down", is a song that was credited to the group and songwriter Diane Hildebrand, though in fact it developed from a jam on someone else's song. Nesmith, Tork, Douglas and Hoh attempted to record a backing track for a version of Mose Allison's jazz-blues standard "Parchman Farm": [Excerpt: Mose Allison, "Parchman Farm"] But after recording it, they'd realised that it didn't sound that much like the original, and that all it had in common with it was a chord sequence. Nesmith suggested that rather than put it out as a cover version, they put a new melody and lyrics to it, and they commissioned Hildebrand, who'd co-written songs for the group before, to write them, and got Shorty Rogers to write a horn arrangement to go over their backing track. The eventual songwriting credit was split five ways, between Hildebrand and the four Monkees -- including Davy Jones who had no involvement with the recording, but not including Douglas or Hoh. The lyrics Hildebrand came up with were a funny patter song about a failed suicide, taken at an extremely fast pace, which Dolenz pulls off magnificently: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Goin' Down"] The A-side, another track with a rhythm track by Nesmith, Tork, Douglas, and Hoh, was a song that had been written by John Stewart of the Kingston Trio, who you may remember from the episode on "San Francisco" as being a former songwriting partner of John Phillips. Stewart had written the song as part of a "suburbia trilogy", and was not happy with the finished product. He said later "I remember going to bed thinking 'All I did today was write 'Daydream Believer'." Stewart used to include the song in his solo sets, to no great approval, and had shopped the song around to bands like We Five and Spanky And Our Gang, who had both turned it down. He was unhappy with it himself, because of the chorus: [Excerpt: John Stewart, "Daydream Believer"] Stewart was ADHD, and the words "to a", coming as they did slightly out of the expected scansion for the line, irritated him so greatly that he thought the song could never be recorded by anyone, but when Chip Douglas asked if he had any songs, he suggested that one. As it turned out, there was a line of lyric that almost got the track rejected, but it wasn't the "to a". Stewart's original second verse went like this: [Excerpt: John Stewart, "Daydream Believer"] RCA records objected to the line "now you know how funky I can be" because funky, among other meanings, meant smelly, and they didn't like the idea of Davy Jones singing about being smelly. Chip Douglas phoned Stewart to tell him that they were insisting on changing the line, and suggesting "happy" instead. Stewart objected vehemently -- that change would reverse the entire meaning of the line, and it made no sense, and what about artistic integrity? But then, as he later said "He said 'Let me put it to you this way, John. If he can't sing 'happy' they won't do it'. And I said 'Happy's working real good for me now.' That's exactly what I said to him." He never regretted the decision -- Stewart would essentially live off the royalties from "Daydream Believer" for the rest of his life -- though he seemed always to be slightly ambivalent and gently mocking about the song in his own performances, often changing the lyrics slightly: [Excerpt: John Stewart, "Daydream Believer"] The Monkees had gone into the studio and cut the track, again with Tork on piano, Nesmith on guitar, Douglas on bass, and Hoh on drums. Other than changing "funky" to "happy", there were two major changes made in the studio. One seems to have been Douglas' idea -- they took the bass riff from the pre-chorus to the Beach Boys' "Help Me Rhonda": [Excerpt: The Beach Boys, "Help Me Rhonda"] and Douglas played that on the bass as the pre-chorus for "Daydream Believer", with Shorty Rogers later doubling it in the horn arrangement: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Daydream Believer"] And the other is the piano intro, which also becomes an instrumental bridge, which was apparently the invention of Tork, who played it: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Daydream Believer"] The track went to number one, becoming the group's third and final number one hit, and their fifth of six million-sellers. It was included on the next album, The Birds, The Bees, and the Monkees, but that piano part would be Tork's only contribution to the album. As the group members were all now writing songs and cutting their own tracks, and were also still rerecording the odd old unused song from the initial 1966 sessions, The Birds, The Bees, and the Monkees was pulled together from a truly astonishing amount of material. The expanded triple-CD version of the album, now sadly out of print, has multiple versions of forty-four different songs, ranging from simple acoustic demos to completed tracks, of which twelve were included on the final album. Tork did record several tracks during the sessions, but he spent much of the time recording and rerecording a single song, "Lady's Baby", which eventually stretched to five different recorded versions over multiple sessions in a five-month period. He racked up huge studio bills on the track, bringing in Steve Stills and Dewey Martin of the Buffalo Springfield, and Buddy Miles, to try to help him capture the sound in his head, but the various takes are almost indistinguishable from one another, and so it's difficult to see what the problem was: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Lady's Baby"] Either way, the track wasn't finished by the time the album came out, and the album that came out was a curiously disjointed and unsatisfying effort, a mixture of recycled old Boyce and Hart songs, some songs by Jones, who at this point was convinced that "Broadway-rock" was going to be the next big thing and writing songs that sounded like mediocre showtunes, and a handful of experimental songs written by Nesmith. You could pull together a truly great ten- or twelve-track album from the masses of material they'd recorded, but the one that came out was mediocre at best, and became the first Monkees album not to make number one -- though it still made number three and sold in huge numbers. It also had the group's last million-selling single on it, "Valleri", an old Boyce and Hart reject from 1966 that had been remade with Boyce and Hart producing and their old session players, though the production credit was still now given to the Monkees: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Valleri"] Nesmith said at the time he considered it the worst song ever written. The second season of the TV show was well underway, and despite -- or possibly because of -- the group being clearly stoned for much of the filming, it contains a lot of the episodes that fans of the group think of most fondly, including several episodes that break out of the formula the show had previously established in interesting ways. Tork and Dolenz were both also given the opportunity to direct episodes, and Dolenz also co-wrote his episode, which ended up being the last of the series. In another sign of how the group were being given more creative control over the show, the last three episodes of the series had guest appearances by favourite musicians of the group members who they wanted to give a little exposure to, and those guest appearances sum up the character of the band members remarkably well. Tork, for whatever reason, didn't take up this option, but the other three did. Jones brought on his friend Charlie Smalls, who would later go on to write the music for the Broadway musical The Wiz, to demonstrate to Jones the difference between Smalls' Black soul and Jones' white soul: [Excerpt: Davy Jones and Charlie Smalls] Nesmith, on the other hand, brought on Frank Zappa. Zappa put on Nesmith's Monkee shirt and wool hat and pretended to be Nesmith, and interviewed Nesmith with a false nose and moustache pretending to be Zappa, as they both mercilessly mocked the previous week's segment with Jones and Smalls: [Excerpt: Michael Nesmith and Frank Zappa] Nesmith then "conducted" Zappa as Zappa used a sledgehammer to "play" a car, parodying his own appearance on the Steve Allen Show playing a bicycle, to the presumed bemusement of the Monkees' fanbase who would not be likely to remember a one-off performance on a late-night TV show from five years earlier. And the final thing ever to be shown on an episode of the Monkees didn't feature any of the Monkees at all. Micky Dolenz, who directed and co-wrote that episode, about an evil wizard who was using the power of a space plant (named after the group's slang for dope) to hypnotise people through the TV, chose not to interact with his guest as the others had, but simply had Tim Buckley perform a solo acoustic version of his then-unreleased song "Song to the Siren": [Excerpt: Tim Buckley, "Song to the Siren"] By the end of the second season, everyone knew they didn't want to make another season of the TV show. Instead, they were going to do what Rafelson and Schneider had always wanted, and move into film. The planning stages for the film, which was initially titled Changes but later titled Head -- so that Rafelson and Schneider could bill their next film as "From the guys who gave you Head" -- had started the previous summer, before the sessions that produced The Birds, The Bees, and the Monkees. To write the film, the group went off with Rafelson and Schneider for a short holiday, and took with them their mutual friend Jack Nicholson. Nicholson was at this time not the major film star he later became. Rather he was a bit-part actor who was mostly associated with American International Pictures, the ultra-low-budget film company that has come up on several occasions in this podcast. Nicholson had appeared mostly in small roles, in films like The Little Shop of Horrors: [Excerpt: The Little Shop of Horrors] He'd appeared in multiple films made by Roger Corman, often appearing with Boris Karloff, and by Monte Hellman, but despite having been a working actor for a decade, his acting career was going nowhere, and by this point he had basically given up on the idea of being an actor, and had decided to start working behind the camera. He'd written the scripts for a few of the low-budget films he'd appeared in, and he'd recently scripted The Trip, the film we mentioned earlier: [Excerpt: The Trip trailer] So the group, Rafelson, Schneider, and Nicholson all went away for a weekend, and they all got extremely stoned, took acid, and talked into a tape recorder for hours on end. Nicholson then transcribed those recordings, cleaned them up, and structured the worthwhile ideas into something quite remarkable: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Ditty Diego"] If the Monkees TV show had been inspired by the Marx Brothers and Three Stooges, and by Richard Lester's directorial style, the only precursor I can find for Head is in the TV work of Lester's colleague Spike Milligan, but I don't think there's any reasonable way in which Nicholson or anyone else involved could have taken inspiration from Milligan's series Q.  But what they ended up with is something that resembles, more than anything else, Monty Python's Flying Circus, a TV series that wouldn't start until a year after Head came out. It's a series of ostensibly unconnected sketches, linked by a kind of dream logic, with characters wandering from one loose narrative into a totally different one, actors coming out of character on a regular basis, and no attempt at a coherent narrative. It contains regular examples of channel-zapping, with excerpts from old films being spliced in, and bits of news footage juxtaposed with comedy sketches and musical performances in ways that are sometimes thought-provoking, sometimes distasteful, and occasionally both -- as when a famous piece of footage of a Vietnamese prisoner of war being shot in the head hard-cuts to screaming girls in the audience at a Monkees concert, a performance which ends with the girls tearing apart the group and revealing that they're really just cheap-looking plastic mannequins. The film starts, and ends, with the Monkees themselves attempting suicide, jumping off a bridge into the ocean -- but the end reveals that in fact the ocean they're in is just water in a glass box, and they're trapped in it. And knowing this means that when you watch the film a second time, you find that it does have a story. The Monkees are trapped in a box which in some ways represents life, the universe, and one's own mind, and in other ways represents the TV and their TV careers. Each of them is trying in his own way to escape, and each ends up trapped by his own limitations, condemned to start the cycle over and over again. The film features parodies of popular film genres like the boxing film (Davy is supposed to throw a fight with Sonny Liston at the instruction of gangsters), the Western, and the war film, but huge chunks of the film take place on a film studio backlot, and characters from one segment reappear in another, often commenting negatively on the film or the band, as when Frank Zappa as a critic calls Davy Jones' soft-shoe routine to a Harry Nilsson song "very white", or when a canteen worker in the studio calls the group "God's gift to the eight-year-olds". The film is constantly deconstructing and commenting on itself and the filmmaking process -- Tork hits that canteen worker, whose wig falls off revealing the actor playing her to be a man, and then it's revealed that the "behind the scenes" footage is itself scripted, as director Bob Rafelson and scriptwriter Jack Nicholson come into frame and reassure Tork, who's concerned that hitting a woman would be bad for his image. They tell him they can always cut it from the finished film if it doesn't work. While "Ditty Diego", the almost rap rewriting of the Monkees theme we heard earlier, sets out a lot of how the film asks to be interpreted and how it works narratively, the *spiritual* and thematic core of the film is in another song, Tork's "Long Title (Do I Have to Do This All Over Again?)", which in later solo performances Tork would give the subtitle "The Karma Blues": [Excerpt: The Monkees, "Long Title (Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?)"] Head is an extraordinary film, and one it's impossible to sum up in anything less than an hour-long episode of its own. It's certainly not a film that's to everyone's taste, and not every aspect of it works -- it is a film that is absolutely of its time, in ways that are both good and bad. But it's one of the most inventive things ever put out by a major film studio, and it's one that rightly secured the Monkees a certain amount of cult credibility over the decades. The soundtrack album is a return to form after the disappointing Birds, Bees, too. Nicholson put the album together, linking the eight songs in the film with collages of dialogue and incidental music, repurposing and recontextualising the dialogue to create a new experience, one that people have compared with Frank Zappa's contemporaneous We're Only In It For The Money, though while t

My friend Fred turns 85 this weekend! Celebrate his birthday with a bunch of fun things he loves like Dad Jokes, Thanksgiving, The Kingston Trio, and more fun stuff! Happy Birthday, Fred! Support the show by grabbing some swag! Trivia books, shirts, & more! Fact of the Day: In 2014, there was a Tinder match in Antarctica. THE FIRST TRIVIA QUESTION STARTS AT 03:04 Theme song by www.soundcloud.com/Frawsty Bed Music: Neon Laser Horizon by Kevin MacLeod Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/7015-neon-laser-horizon License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license PLAY TRIVIA WITH BUDDS live on FB Live (and sometimes Zoom!) A full hour interactive show streams often nightly at 7pm PST. See lineup of shows and topics at www.TriviaWithBudds.com under the events section towards the bottom of the homepage. Watch the shows at www.Facebook.com/ryanbudds or www.Facebook.com/TriviaWithBudds  http://TriviaWithBudds.comhttp://Facebook.com/TriviaWithBudds http://Twitter.com/ryanbudds http://Instagram.com/ryanbudds Book a party, corporate event, or fundraiser anytime by emailing ryanbudds@gmail.com or use the contact form here: https://www.triviawithbudds.com/contact SUPPORT THE SHOW: www.Patreon.com/TriviaWithBudds Send me your questions and I'll read them/answer them on the show. Also send me any topics you'd like me to cover on future episodes, anytime! Cheers.  SPECIAL THANKS TO ALL MY PATREON SUBSCRIBERS INCLUDING:  Veronica Baker, Greg Bristow, Brenda and Mo Martinez, Matt Frost, Dillon Enderby, Manny Cortez, Joe Finnie, Jen Wojnar, John Burke, Simon Time, Albert Thomas, Alexandra Pepin, Myles Bagby, Patrick Leahy, Vernon Heagy, Brian Salyer, Casey OConnor, Christy Shipley, Cody Roslund, Dan Papallo, Jim Fields, John Mihaljevic, Loree O'Sullivan, Kimberly Brown, Matt Pawlik, Megan Donnelly, Robert Casey, Sabrina Gianonni, Sara Zimmerman, Wreck My Podcast, Brendan Peterson, Feana Nevel, Jenna Leatherman, Madeleine Garvey, Mark and Sarah Haas, Alexander Calder, Paul McLaughlin, Shaun Delacruz, Barry Reed, Clayton Polizzi, Edward Witt, Jenni Yetter, Joe Jermolowicz, Kyle Henderickson, Luke Mckay, Pamela Yoshimura,  Paul Doronila, Rich Hyjack, Ricky Carney, Russ Friedewald, Tracy Oldaker, Willy Powell, Victoria Black, David Snow, Leslie Gerhardt, Rebecca Meredith, Jeff Foust, Richard Lefdal Timothy Heavner, Michael Redman, Michele Lindemann, Ben Stitzel, Shiana Zita, and Josh Gregovich, Jen and Nic Capano, Gerritt Perkins, Chris Arneson, Trenton Sullivan, Jacob LoMaglio, Erin Burgess, Torie Prothro, Donald Fuller, Kristy, Pate Hogan, Scott Briller, Sam K, Jon Handel, John Taylor, Dean Bratton, Mark Zarate, Laura Palmer, Scott Holmes, James Brown, Andrea Fultz, Nikki Long, Jenny Santomauro, and Denise Leonard! YOU GUYS ROCK! 

GGACP celebrates the birthday of screen legend Alan Ladd (September 3rd) with an ENCORE of a 2017 interview with comedian and actor Ronnie Schell. In this episode, Ronnie remembers his early days on the club circuit, recalls decades-long friendships with funnymen Bill Dana, Pat McCormick and Harvey Korman and discusses his memorable role as Gomer Pyle's bunkmate, Duke Slater. Also, Ronnie reminisces about sharing the big and small screen with Andy Griffith, Redd Foxx, Rodney Dangerfield, Tony Curtis, Goldie Hawn, George Carlin and even Groucho Marx. PLUS: Billy De Wolfe! The Kingston Trio! The reclusive Jack Burns! Sinatra drops by the Blue Angel! And the prodigious talents of Theodore Bikel! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Accomplished actor Kelsey Grammer joins Scott to talk about the new Frasier reboot, his podcast pitch all about The Kingston Trio, and Jon Daly's new album “Ding Dong Delicious.” Then, the “real” Superman stops by to talk about his 4th of July plans. Plus, handyman Tobias Boothby drops by to promote his handyman business.