Podcasts about Roky Erickson

Sintonía: "Summertime Frog" - Kim Fowley1º LP: Roky Erickson And The Aliens - (título homónimo): "Two-Headed Dog", "I Think Of Demons", "I Walked With A Zombie", "Don´t Shake Me Lucifer" y "White Faces" (CBS,1980)Todas las canciones compuestas e interpretadas por Roky Erickson2º LP: Mick Farren - "Vampires Stole My Lunch Money": "I Don´t Want To Go This Way", "I Want a Drink", "Fast Eddie", "Let Me In, Damn You" y "Drunk In The Morning" (Logo,1978/Munster, 2021)Todas las canciones compuestas e interpretadas por Mick Farren3º LP: Kim Fowley - "Living in the Streets": "Motorboat", "25 Hours a Day", "Man Without A Country", "California Summertime" y "Born To Make You Cry" (Sonet, 1977/Munster-Cherry Red, 2020)Todas las canciones compuestas e interpretadas por Kim Fowley.Escuchar audio

Regresamos a las valijas de francés New Rose Records, la escudería independiente más importante de la Europa continental en los años 80. El sello francés dio cobijo a fantásticos seres procedentes del underground o las escenas alternativas. Artistas de incuestionable talento, pero incomprendidos o demasiado provocadores para el público generalista. Sumergirse en su catálogo es como abrir el cofre del tesoro.Playlist;(sintonía) CUB KODA “Let’s get funky”THE FUGS “Nova slum goddes”THE LEROY BROTHERS “Why should I be surprised”THE CRAMPS “Can your pussy do the dog”THE ORSON FAMILY “The river of desire”TAV FALCO PANTHER’S BURN “Tina the Go Go Queen”ALEX CHILTON “No sex”DINO LEE “Beer party”NERVOUS EATERS “Shit for brains”DRAMARAMA “Anything anything”FORTUNE TELLERS “Lively up!”ROKY ERICKSON “You don’t love me yet”MIKE WIHELM “Me and my uncle”GIANT SAND “Valley of rain”Escuchar audio

Aaron Camaro returns this week to give you an extra edition of Decibel Geek Times! This week on Decibel Geek Times, we remember some of rock's greatest legends on their deathdays — including Bob Kulick, Chris Cornell, David Wayne, Ray Manzarek, Nick Menza, Paul Gray, Bradley Nowell, Duane Allman, Roky Erickson, and Derek Frigo.  Then we take a loud trip through time with 2025 album anniversaries, highlighting major releases turning 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 40, 45, and 50 years old — from Faith No More's Sol Invictus to BTO's Four Wheel Drive, and everything in between.  Plus, we cover new music from Deraps, Midnight, Fly!, Animalize, Holler, The Dead Daisies, and a brand-new EP from EightBall, a ROCKNPOD favorite! We hope you enjoy Decibel Geek Times and SHARE with a friend! Decibel Geek is a proud member of the Pantheon Podcasts family. Contact Us! Rate, Review, and Subscribe in iTunes Join the Facebook Fan Page Follow on Twitter Follow on Instagram E-mail Us Subscribe to our Youtube channel! Support Us! Buy a T-Shirt! Donate to the show! Stream Us! Stitcher Radio Spreaker TuneIn Become a VIP Subscriber! Click HERE for more info! Comment Below Direct Download  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Aaron Camaro returns this week to give you an extra edition of Decibel Geek Times! This week on Decibel Geek Times, we remember some of rock's greatest legends on their deathdays — including Bob Kulick, Chris Cornell, David Wayne, Ray Manzarek, Nick Menza, Paul Gray, Bradley Nowell, Duane Allman, Roky Erickson, and Derek Frigo.  Then we take a loud trip through time with 2025 album anniversaries, highlighting major releases turning 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 40, 45, and 50 years old — from Faith No More's Sol Invictus to BTO's Four Wheel Drive, and everything in between.  Plus, we cover new music from Deraps, Midnight, Fly!, Animalize, Holler, The Dead Daisies, and a brand-new EP from EightBall, a ROCKNPOD favorite! We hope you enjoy Decibel Geek Times and SHARE with a friend! Decibel Geek is a proud member of the Pantheon Podcasts family. Contact Us! Rate, Review, and Subscribe in iTunes Join the Facebook Fan Page Follow on Twitter Follow on Instagram E-mail Us Subscribe to our Youtube channel! Support Us! Buy a T-Shirt! Donate to the show! Stream Us! Stitcher Radio Spreaker TuneIn Become a VIP Subscriber! Click HERE for more info! Comment Below Direct Download  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

THE REVEREND OF KARMIC YOUTH-1The Interpreter2Starry Eyes3For You4Bloody Hammer5The Wind And More6Night Of The Vampire7You're Gonna Miss Me8I Walked With A Zombie9Stand For The Fire Demon10 When You Get Delighted11 To Think12 Warning13 True Love Cast Out All Evil14 Loving Isn't A Part Time Thing15 The Looking Glass SongAs lead singer of Texas' infamous 13th Floor Elevators — one of rock's earliest, strangest and greatest psychedelic bands — Roky Erickson explored the far reaches of musical and personal extremes. The Elevators' first two albums (Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators and Easter Everywhere, released, respectively, in 1966 and '67) are essential classics whose far-reaching influence transcends genre boundaries. Following a nightmarish '70s mental-hospital stint that reportedly had a devastating long-term effect on his mental health, Erickson's subsequent work revealed a singularly brilliant songwriter and performer whose talent was no less impressive for the fact that he was singing about zombies, vampires and aliens. Indeed, the demons that abound in Roky's songs are all-too-real reflections of his own troubled psyche, and the combination of the artist's oddly poetic lyrical constructions and his bracing banshee wail makes it clear, as it wasn't always, that he's not kidding.The Elevators fell apart in the late '60s, when Erickson began a three-year stretch in a state mental institution to avoid criminal prosecution on a drug charge. He didn't return to recording until the second half of the '70s, with a string of one-off singles and the four-song Sponge-label EP (reissued in 1988 as Two Headed Dog). Three of the EP's numbers were re-recorded for the 1980 CBS UK LP (the title of which is actually five unpronounceable ideograms). Roky Erickson and the Aliens is an excellent manifestation of his post-Elevators persona, expressing dark dilemmas through creepy horror-movie imagery. Roky sings such offbeat gems as “I Walked with a Zombie” and “Creature With the Atom Brain” in a tremulous voice that insists he's telling the truth — or at least believes he is. Former Creedence Clearwater bassist Stu Cook turned in an excellent production job, bringing the hard electric guitars (and Bill Miller's electric autoharp) into a sharp focus that underscores Roky's excitable state. Erickson and band seem less unstable than the drug-crazed Elevators (best remembered for “You're Gonna Miss Me”), but just barely.

Oscar Avendaño, músico al que conocemos al frente de The Bo Derek's, O.A. y los Profesionales o como bajista en los últimos 20 años de Siniestro Total, se estrena como escritor. “¡Lo tengo en vinilo!” (NeoPerson Sounds) es una novela de historias cortas, cada una asociada a un disco y a las experiencias vitales y recuerdos asociados de este vigués. Una banda sonora para una vida marcada por el rocknroll con la que todos los amantes de la música se sentirán identificados.Playlist;THE BO DEREK’S “Solo una más”SINIESTRO TOTAL “Juegas al pale”CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL “Run through the jungle”LOS CONTENTOS “Dirty nose”ROKY ERICKSON and THE ALIENS “Cold night for alligators”FACES “You’re so rude”SYLVAIN SYLVAIN and THE CRIMINALS “Kids are back”MOJO NIXON “Not as much as football”CHEAP TRICK “Surrender”VAINICA DOBLE “Déjame vivir con alegría”Escuchar audio

Our very special guest Daniel Blau Rogge is back for another episode that really runs the gamut: from Evan Dando to Roky Erickson; from Edward Scissorhands to Hannibal Lecter; to a punk skateboarder who couldn't return a damn phone call; and to a dance lesson conveyed through printed words and still photographs, which is how we had to learn things before online video came along to improve our lives (...sometimes). Fry yourself up some spam and listen! QUICK LINKS

Guests: Don Stevenson, drummer/songwriter of Moby Grape & Cam Cobb, author of Weighted Down: The Complicated Life of Skip Spence. He was one of the Holy Trinity of critically revered and maybe unjustly labeled “acid casualties” of late ‘60s/early ‘70s music. Along with Pink Floyd's Syd Barrett and the 13th Floor Elevators' Roky Erickson, Skip Spence was a star-crossed figure idolized for his all-too-brief contributions to shaping psychedelia through his work with Moby Grape and his one incredibly stark and endlessly intriguing solo album, Oar. His briefly burning creativity and agonizingly slow decline are profiled in a wonderfully comprehensive new book, Weighted Down: The Complicated Life of Skip Spence (Omnibus Press). Author Cam Cobb spoke with a multitude of Skip's family, friends, and bandmates to create the first authoritative chronicle of his artistic development and achievements and a sympathetic one of his long battle with mental illness, addiction, and homelessness. For this special edition of “Reading Is Funktamental,” we hear direct from one of the musicians who knew Spence best, Don Stevenson, the drummer and co-writer of many of Moby Grape's most popular songs, including “Hey Grandma,” “8:05” and “Murder in My Heart for the Judge.” My written review of the book can be found here at PopMatters, https://www.popmatters.com/moby-grape-skip-pence-biography "Reading is Funktamental" is a monthly one-hour show about great books written about music and music-makers. In each episode, host Sal Cataldi speaks to the authors of some of the best reads about rock, jazz, punk, world, experimental music, and much more. From time to time, the host and authors will be joined by notable musicians, writers, and artists who are die-hard fans of the subject matter covered. Expect lively conversation and a playlist of great music to go with it. "Reading Is Funktamental" can be heard the second Wednesday of every month from 10 – 11 AM on Wave Farm: WGXC 90.7 FM and online at wavefarm.org. It can also be found as a podcast on Apple, Spotify and other platforms. Sal Cataldi is a musician and writer based in Saugerties. He is best known for his work with his genre-leaping solo project, Spaghetti Eastern Music, and is also a member of the ambient guitar duo, Guitars A Go Go, the poetry and music duo, Vapor Vespers, and the quartet, Spaceheater. His writing on music, books and film has been featured in The New York Times, Rolling Stone, PopMatters, Seattle Times, Huffington Post, Inside+Out Upstate NY, and NYSMusic.com, where he is the book reviewer.

Det er blevet tid til endnu et mixtape, og denne gang har Rockhistorier samlet 20 sange om galskab. Der er både blevet plads til kunstnere, der selv var en smule bims – som Roky Erickson, der led af paranoid skizofreni – men også til dem, der blot har oplevet det udefra, som David Bowie, hvis halvbror brugte meget af sit liv på en psykiatrisk afdeling.Værter: Klaus Lynggaard og Henrik QueitschKlip: Mads Levorsen og Andreas Skøtt LenstrupPlaylisten: Eddie Noack: “Psycho” (Single, 1968)The Move: “Cherry Blossom Clinic Revisited” (Shazam, 1970)The Rolling Stones: “Midnight Rambler – Live 1969” (Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out, 1970)David Bowie: “All the Madmen” (The Man Who Sold the World, 1970)Porter Wagoner: “The Rubber Room” (Single, 1971)Don McLean: “Vincent” (American Pie, 1971)Pink Floyd: “Brain Damage” (Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)Shu-Bi-Dua: “Små blå mænd” (Shu-Bi-Dua, 1974)Suicide: ”Frankie Teardrop” (Suicide, 1977)Joy Division: ”She's Lost Control” (Unknown Pleasures, 1979)Roky Erickson and the Aliens: “I Think of Demons” (Roky Erickson and the Aliens, 1980)Pixies: “Where Is My Mind?” (Surfer Rosa, 1988)Nirvana: “Lithium” (Nevermind, 1991)Lisa Germano: “…a psychopath” (Geek the Girl, 1994)Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: “Song of Joy” (Murder Ballads, 1996)Stina Nordenstam: “People Are Strange” (People Are Strange, 1998)Sia: “Breathe Me” (Color the Small One, 2004)Rihanna: “Disturbia” (Good Girl Gone Bad: Reloaded, 2008)Bebe Rexha: “I'm Gonna Show You Crazy” (I Don't Wanna Grow Up-EP, 2015)Melanie Martinez: “Mad Hatter” (Cry Baby, 2015)

This week, we talk to author and music critic MARC MASTERS (High Bias: The Distorted History Of The Cassette Tape, Pitchfork, The Wire) about the film THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON and the cassette tape culture surrounding Daniel. We also discuss our elaborate tape trading stories and sequencing your perfect mixtape, Bananafish magazine, Sebadoh, Homestead Records, ordering Daniel Johnston cassettes directly, Daniel's religious upbringing, agruging with his Mom and how he put it directly into his music, Sun City Girls, why Daniel's music benefited from being on cassette vs vinyl/cd, how home recording allowed you to hear the physical space of the aritst's bedroom or garage, how the film initially was going to be a Grey Gardens vérité sytled film, Daniel's muse Laurie, director Jeff Feurezeig's stunning recreations in this film and Daniel's help in art directing them, Chris' real time experience on seeing Daniel on both airings of The Cutting Edge and how different those two performances were, Daniel and his childhood friend David's relationship, rock n' roll's weird fascination with people's mental struggles from Syd Barrett to Roky Erickson, how a Jeff Feurezeig documentary is unilke any other documentaries, the myth of Daniel recording his tapes over and over again each time he gave one away, Kurt Cobain changing Daniel's life forever with a t-shirt, Daniel's major label bidding war, why Metallica gave the movie a chance to use their own music within it, Sonic Youth driving around looking and finding a missing Daniel Johnston in NYC, cataloging all of Daniel's tapes, Chris going through all of Robert Pollard's cassette archives, Danny & The Nightmares and more!So reach into your McDonald's bag and pull out a Daniel Johnston cassette as we discuss one of the greatest documentaries of our lifetime on this week's episode of Revolutions Per Movie.Marc Masters: https://uncpress.org/book/9781469675985/high-bias/@marcissistREVOLUTIONS PER MOVIE:Host Chris Slusarenko (Eyelids, Guided By Voices, owner of Clinton Street Video rental store) is joined by actors, musicians, comedians, writers & directors who each week pick out their favorite music documentary, musical, music-themed fiction film or music videos to discuss. Fun, weird, and insightful, Revolutions Per Movie is your deep dive into our life-long obsessions where music and film collide.The show is also a completely independent affair, so the best way to support it is through our Patreon at patreon.com/revolutionspermovie. By joining, you can get weekly bonus episodes, physical goods such as Flexidiscs, and other exclusive goods.Revolutions Per Movies releases new episodes every Thursday on any podcast app, and additional, exclusive bonus episodes every Sunday on our Patreon. If you like the show, please consider subscribing, rating, and reviewing it on your favorite podcast app. Thanks!SOCIALS:@revolutionspermovieX, BlueSky: @revpermovieTHEME by Eyelids 'My Caved In Mind'www.musicofeyelids.bandcamp.com ARTWORK by Jeff T. Owenshttps://linktr.ee/mymetalhand Click here to get EXCLUSIVE BONUS WEEKLY Revolutions Per Movie content on our Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Tim is back and so the Spooktacular can continue! This week we are talking about Roky Erickson and his album The Evil One, released in 1980 and then again in 1981. Get ready for things to get spooky in the best possible way, not like last week when Garrett's solocast made us all sad.  In this episode we discuss ongoing legal issues, Diddy, the devil, forced haircuts, toilet paper poems, aliens, blood clots, demons, true love, the Cold War, vampire purge, alligator people, Slender Men, goblins and so much more! Hatepod.com | TW: @AlbumHatePod | IG: @hatePod | hatePodMail@gmail.com  Episode Outline: Top of the show "Do you hate it?" Personal History History of Artist  General Thoughts  Song by Song - What do they mean!?! How Did it Do Reviews Post Episode "Do you hate it?"  

What The Riff?!? makes another scary trip down the Halloween rabbit hole with these theme songs, movie and TV music, and rock songs with a bent towards the macabre.  We hope you enjoy this third edition of "Halloween" from What the Riff?!? Highway to Hell by AC/DC  The opening track to the 1979 album of the same name features Bon Scott on his last album as lead singer of the group before his untimely death.  The name of the song was inspired by the group's gruesome touring schedule.Shout at the Devil by Motley Crue  The Crue's 1983 breakthrough album of the same name would establish them as one of the most successful metal bands of the 80's.  The song was controversial, with many believing that it encouraged devil worship, though the lyrics themselves do not explicitly do so.Disarm by The Smashing Pumpkins  Off their breakout album "Siamese Dream," this song references "the killer in me is the killer in you" is inspired by Billy Corgan's contemplation of his negligent parents and suicide.  The lyrics "cut that little child" caused the song to be banned by the BBC.Demons by Imagine Dragons  This song off Imagine Dragons' major label debut studio album became their second top 10 single.  It is really not about demons in the Halloween sense, but more the tragedies of life like abuse, PTSD, and mental illness.Voodoo by Godsmack  The third single from Godsmack's self-titled debut album was inspired by Wes Craven's film “The Serpent and the Rainbow.”  This song became Dave Bautista's theme song as Leviathan when he was in the WWE.  Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion  The title track from Social Distortion's debut album tells a horror tale of a kid becoming a punk rocker.  It is another song about dealing with personal demons rather than the supernatural. Witch Wolf by Styx  Early in their career Styx put out this song to lead off their third album, “The Serpent is Rising.”  James Young takes lead vocal duties on this song that tells about a person accursed by a creature called the witch wolf, and night rider.Dragula by Rob Zombie  The lead single from Rob Zombie's debut album may be his biggest hit.  The audio clip at the beginning of the song is taken from the 1960 horror film “The City of the Dead.”  The name comes from the TV sitcom "The Munsters," where Grandpa Munster has a dragster called "Drag-u-la."The theme to the TV series "Twilight Zone" This menagerie of bizarre tales from the early days of TV still has staying power in our sci-fi culture. Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones  Mick Jagger walks us through a discussion with Old Scratch himself in this well-known classic from the Stones' catalogue.  The idea is a narrative from Satan's point of view as he reviews historical events.That Old Black Magic by Frank Sinatra  Old Blue Eyes gave us this romantic song with a Halloween bent.  It was a jazz classic originally written in 1942 with lyrics penned by Johnny Mercer.  Love is "that old black magic" in this tune.Night of the Vampire by Roky Erickson  From this cult classic album "The Evil One," this song is one of a plethora of horror-oriented tracks on the album.  Erickson spent a significant amount of time in mental institutions.The Kill (Bury Me) by Thirty Seconds to Mars  Jared Leto, front man for the group (and perhaps better known as an actor today), has said this song is about the relationship you have with yourself, and confronting the dark side of who you are.Take Me to Church by Hozier  This haunting hit song compares falling in love with a kind of death, and compares the lover to a kind of religion. Thanks for listening to “What the Riff?!?” NOTE: To adjust the loudness of the music or voices, you may adjust the balance on your device. VOICES are stronger in the LEFT channel, and MUSIC is stronger on the RIGHT channel.Please follow us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/whattheriffpodcast/, and message or email us with what you'd like to hear, what you think of the show, and any rock-worthy memes we can share.Of course we'd love for you to rate the show in your podcast platform!**NOTE: What the Riff?!? does not own the rights to any of these songs and we neither sell, nor profit from them. We share them so you can learn about them and purchase them for your own collections.

This week, we talk to musician LARRY SCHEMEL (Roky Erickson, Death Valley Girls, The Flesheaters, Kill Sybil) about the Roky Erickson documentary You're Going To Miss Me. We get to find out Larry's path to working with Roky Erickson & what it was like touring with Roky, Roky's family situation, does the film show a fair look into Roky's life at the time, how hard the film is currently to find to view, where we first discovered the 13th Floor Eleveators and what the band meant to us, Velvet Underground, The Nuggets Complation & oldies stations, The Sonics, Forced Exposure Magazine and zine culture, the Elevator's discography, how the band avoided the hippie-trippie music that was being made at the time, the mythology of Roky & his band The Aliens, Roky's mother Eveyln, the mysterious jug members of the Elevators, acid, Cold Sun, electric distorted Autoharp, Roky's Horror Rock, Stu Cook from CCR producing Roky, 415 records, Roky being pulled onstage to sing at a Butthole Surfers show against his will, the chapters that happened after this film ends, how Roky's songs were structured and what it was like to play them & how Roky knew the songs by the first couple notes.So don't fall down on this week's emotional episode of Revolutions Per Movie.LARRY SCHEMEL:Instagram: @larryschemelREVOLUTIONS PER MOVIE:Host Chris Slusarenko (Eyelids, Guided By Voices, owner of Clinton Street Video rental store) is joined by actors, musicians, comedians, writers & directors who each week pick out their favorite music documentary, musical, music-themed fiction film or music videos to discuss. Fun, weird, and insightful, Revolutions Per Movie is your deep dive into our life-long obsessions where music and film collide.The show is also a completely independent affair, so the best way to support it is through our Patreon at patreon.com/revolutionspermovie. By joining, you can get weekly bonus episodes, physical goods such as Flexidiscs, and other exclusive goods.Revolutions Per Movies releases new episodes every Thursday on any podcast app, and additional, exclusive bonus episodes every Sunday on our Patreon. If you like the show, please consider subscribing, rating, and reviewing it on your favorite podcast app. Thanks!SOCIALS:@revolutionspermovieX, BlueSky: @revpermovieTHEME by Eyelids 'My Caved In Mind'www.musicofeyelids.bandcamp.com ARTWORK by Jeff T. Owenshttps://linktr.ee/mymetalhand Click here to get EXCLUSIVE BONUS WEEKLY Revolutions Per Movie content on our Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

After releasing a pair of early albums, he got married, and became a father, and while he eventually returned to the business he'd founded, he remained as dedicated as ever to his craft. In 2014, he recorded his third album, Two Truths and a Lie, which introduced him to Avatar Studios (a New York landmark previously known as The Power Station, where icons like Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon, David Bowie and Bob Dylan had recorded). Upon learning the studio was under threat of being sold, Pete Muller decided to use his resources in partnership with the City of New York and the Berklee College of Music to save, renovate, and re-launch the space as a world-class recording and educational facility. He would go on to record his next two albums—2019's Dissolve and 2022's Spaces—there, launching a whole new chapter of his career that would find him sharing bills with artists like Joan Osborne, Jimmy Webb, Livingston Tayler, and Paul Thorn in addition to landing festival slots everywhere from Telluride to Montreux.  His newest album More Time, Pete Muller has harnessed this passion and infused it into his most striking and bold set of songs to date and the focus of our discussion today. Ladies and gentlemen, Pete Muller's newest album More Time was recorded in Memphis with producer/engineer Matt Ross-Spang, the collaboration with Muller is apparent across the entire record. Together they crafted a collection of a looser, grittier slice of rock and soul without sacrificing the open-hearted, expansive nature of Pete's songwriting. No less prominent is the all-star band assembled for the sessions, including celebrated bassist Dave Smith (Al Green, Wilson Pickett), famed Texas guitarist Will Sexton (Joe Ely, Roky Erickson), Memphis organist Rick Steff (Lucero, Cat Power), longtime Wilco drummer Ken Coomer, and a host of local legend horn players and background vocalists. Pete Muller's album More Time is exactly what it gives the listener. More time to enjoy the authentic vocals and sounds that come from real musicians bringing sheet music to life. His collections of songs has something for everyone. If you rock, soul, blues, jazz, easy listening, then your ears will be filled with joy and put a smile on your face. You find his new album More Time on Spotify so check it out. #petemuller #morganstanley #powerstationstudio #rockandsoul #rockmusic #easylistening #brucespringsteen #paulsimon #davidbowie #duranduran #bobdylan #newalbum #newmusic #interview #talkshow 

After releasing a pair of early albums, he got married, and became a father, and while he eventually returned to the business he'd founded, he remained as dedicated as ever to his craft. In 2014, he recorded his third album, Two Truths and a Lie, which introduced him to Avatar Studios (a New York landmark previously known as The Power Station, where icons like Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon, David Bowie and Bob Dylan had recorded). Upon learning the studio was under threat of being sold, Pete Muller decided to use his resources in partnership with the City of New York and the Berklee College of Music to save, renovate, and re-launch the space as a world-class recording and educational facility. He would go on to record his next two albums—2019's Dissolve and 2022's Spaces—there, launching a whole new chapter of his career that would find him sharing bills with artists like Joan Osborne, Jimmy Webb, Livingston Tayler, and Paul Thorn in addition to landing festival slots everywhere from Telluride to Montreux.  His newest album More Time, Pete Muller has harnessed this passion and infused it into his most striking and bold set of songs to date and the focus of our discussion today. Ladies and gentlemen, Pete Muller's newest album More Time was recorded in Memphis with producer/engineer Matt Ross-Spang, the collaboration with Muller is apparent across the entire record. Together they crafted a collection of a looser, grittier slice of rock and soul without sacrificing the open-hearted, expansive nature of Pete's songwriting. No less prominent is the all-star band assembled for the sessions, including celebrated bassist Dave Smith (Al Green, Wilson Pickett), famed Texas guitarist Will Sexton (Joe Ely, Roky Erickson), Memphis organist Rick Steff (Lucero, Cat Power), longtime Wilco drummer Ken Coomer, and a host of local legend horn players and background vocalists. Pete Muller's album More Time is exactly what it gives the listener. More time to enjoy the authentic vocals and sounds that come from real musicians bringing sheet music to life. His collections of songs has something for everyone. If you rock, soul, blues, jazz, easy listening, then your ears will be filled with joy and put a smile on your face. You find his new album More Time on Spotify so check it out. #petemuller #morganstanley #powerstationstudio #rockandsoul #rockmusic #easylistening #brucespringsteen #paulsimon #davidbowie #duranduran #bobdylan #newalbum #newmusic #interview #talkshow 

Un viaje sonoro sin mapa ni guía. Canciones evocadoras para una travesía musical.Playlist;THE HANGING STARS “On a sweet summer day”CHUCK PROPHET “Summertime thing”THE SADIES “Riverway fog”THE SADIES “Eastwinds”ROKY ERICKSON “You don’t love me yet”13TH FLOOR ELEVATORS “Splash 1”SKY SAXON “Coming home”THE SEEDS “Other place”THE MYSTERY LIGHTS “It’s alright”THE DOORS “Yes the river knows”FEDERAL DUCKS “Knowing that I loved you so”FEDERAL DUCKS “Tomorrow waits for today”ALLAH-LAS “Nothing to hide”STAY “Love”Escuchar audio

(S3-25) The 13th Floor Elevators - The Psychedelic Sounds Of The 13th Floor Elevators (International Artists Label) Released October 17, 1966, Recorded between January 3rd and October 11, 1966  Formed in Austin, Texas, in December 1965, the 13th Floor Elevators were pivotal in the psychedelic rock movement. Their debut album, The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators (1966), is noted as one of the first to describe its music as "psychedelic." Featuring the hit single "You're Gonna Miss Me," the album blended raw garage rock with folk blues and surreal elements. Roky Erickson's gritty vocals, Stacy Sutherland's reverb-drenched guitar, and Tommy Hall's electric jug playing created a distinctive sound that influenced many future musicians. Despite commercial challenges and internal struggles, the band's innovative approach significantly impacted the evolution of rock music, helping shift it from pop roots to a more artistic expression. You Tube (Full Album) https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLL-NbN8uTOiiWCx_-GC5xB7BH2z5nTJ8m&si=zRBAvq614zAvu_d6 Spotify (Full Album) https://open.spotify.com/album/2afQ7u8n1CzNBAHjl6OQCG?si=fDrFC4cZT-6e26bbeHRzSA Curated Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7I6dzYc5UJfko8unziRMWf?si=ba8099bd98b548af

Send us a Text Message.On this episode we discuss the debut LP of the seminal psychedelic rock band, the 13th Floor Elevators: 1966's The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators. The 13th Floor Elevators were one of the the first well-known bands to come out of the Austin music scene in the 1960's, and one of the first band's nationwide to purposely embrace the term "psychedelic rock."  The band possessed a lead singer with a one of a kind voice (and screech) in Roky Erickson . The music was played with a fierce garage-rock intensity. But the thing that made them stand out was the use of the "electric jug," which imbued their songs a dark, uneasy,  and otherworldly drone.  The jug player was also the architect of the band's image and message, which relied heavily on the use of drugs as a means to "free your mind." Unfortunately the band embraced the message a little to fully, which resulted  in drug busts and helped facilitate the decline of Erickson's mental health.  But the music is something else.  Their hit single "You're Gonna Miss Me" is a undisputed classic.  and their music was innovative and influential well beyond there short time as a working band.  Visit us at www.tappingvinyl.com.

This week, Desmond and Duane dig the 2018 film that might be considered a Weird Western: The Wind. Then, Desmond goes solo on the 1928 silent film that inspired that movie: The Wind. Batten down the hatches and drown out the wind with these tunes: "Alone in the Wind" by Andrew WK, "It Must Be the Wind" by The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets, "The Wind and More" by Roky Erickson and the Explosives, and "Walker Upon the Wind" by Satyricon. Send feedback to: dreadmediapodcast@gmail.com. Follow @DevilDinosaurJr and @dreadmedia on Twitter! Join the Facebook group! Support the show at www.patreon.com/dreadmedia. Visit www.desmondreddick.com, www.stayscary.wordpress.com, www.dreadmedia.bandcamp.com, www.kccinephile.com, and www.dejasdomicileofdread.blogspot.com.

This week, Desmond and Duane dig the 2018 film that might be considered a Weird Western: The Wind. Then, Desmond goes solo on the 1928 silent film that inspired that movie: The Wind. Batten down the hatches and drown out the wind with these tunes: "Alone in the Wind" by Andrew WK, "It Must Be the Wind" by The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets, "The Wind and More" by Roky Erickson and the Explosives, and "Walker Upon the Wind" by Satyricon. Send feedback to: dreadmediapodcast@gmail.com. Follow @DevilDinosaurJr and @dreadmedia on Twitter! Join the Facebook group! Support the show at www.patreon.com/dreadmedia. Visit www.desmondreddick.com, www.stayscary.wordpress.com, www.dreadmedia.bandcamp.com, www.kccinephile.com, and www.dejasdomicileofdread.blogspot.com.

In this episode of LEGENDS: Podcast by All Day Vinyl, host Scott Dudelson speaks with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee Stu Cook, The iconic bass player and co-founder of the Creedence Clearwater Revival. Cook takes us on an incredible journey, sharing intricate details of his music career from CCR to his work with Roky Erickson. Listen as Cook unveils the highs and lows of his career with Creedence Clearwater Revival and his profound bond with his long-term music companion, Doug 'Cosmo' Clifford. A treasure trove of captivating anecdotes & reflections, the episode offers an immersive exploration into the history of CCR from their early beginning in Junior High, first tastes of stardom to their performance at Royal Albert Hall in 1970. Dive into the backstage reality and the interpersonal dynamics that fostered the band's journey as Cook recalls the birth of "Born on the Bayou" during soundcheck, internal dissensions, legal quagmires, and challenges that shadowed Creedence Clearwater Revival. Cook presents an unfiltered perspective into the band's glorious legacy. This conversation also spotlights Cook's stint producing Roky Erickson and stories from the making of the album "The Evil One." This episode captures the ins and outs of an iconic rock and roll career. A must-hear for classic rock enthusiasts.

Una ensalada de rock’n’roll cocinada sin mapa ni guía. Deambulamos por mundos oníricos, enfrentándonos o bailando con los fantasmas que pueblan nuestros sueños.Playlist;(sintonía) THE SPECIALS “Ghost town” (1981)THE CRAMPS “Surfin dead” (Smell of female, 1983)THE GUN CLUB “My dreams” (The Las Vegas story, 1985)KID CONGO and THE PINK MONKEY BIRDS “He walked in” (2021)MORGEN “Of dreams” (ST, 1969)TY SEGALL “The Singer” (Manipulator, 2014)PATTI SMITH “Ghost dance” (Easter, 1978)ROKY ERICKSON “If you have ghosts” (The evil one, 1981)THE JESUS AND MARY CHAIN “Reverberattion” (Where the piramid meets the eye, 1990)SAY SUE ME “Dreaming” (It's just a short walk!, 2018)SUICIDE “Keep your dreams” (1976)Escuchar audio

In observance of the retail event of the year that is Black Friday, InObscuria took it upon ourselves to have way too much Wild Turkey the day before and thus completely blackout… We've invited our friend and co-host of the Decibel Geek Podcast: Mr. Chris Czynszak on to help us put the pieces together in an in-depth discussion of the blackout era of Alice Cooper's career. If you are not aware of Alice's obscure, creepy, and quirky output from the early 80s; you are in for a treat! Grab some cheese and wine and join us for a little cracktastic Cooper!What is this InObscuria? Every week Robert and Kevin exhume obscure Rock n' Punk n' Metal in one of 3 categories: the Lost, the Forgotten, or the Should Have Beens. This week's episode features the Lost era of a very mainstream artist. There aren't many artists like this that have a period of their career where they are still releasing content but have gone “dark” to most of the record-buying public. Hope we turn you on to something new from a guy you thought you already knew!Songs this week include:Alice Cooper – “Pain”from Flush The Fashion(1980)Alice Cooper – “Headlines” from Flush The Fashion (1980) Alice Cooper – “Vicious Rumors” from Special Forces (1981)Alice Cooper – “Don't Talk Old To Me” from Special Forces (1981)Alice Cooper – “No Baloney Homosapiens (For Steve & E.T.)” from Zipper Catches Skin (1982)Alice Cooper – “Make That Money (Scrooge's Song)” from Zipper Catches Skin (1982)Alice Cooper – “Fresh Blood” from DaDa (1983)Alice Cooper – “Pass The Gun Around” from DaDa (1983) Visit us: https://inobscuria.com/https://www.facebook.com/InObscuriahttps://twitter.com/inobscuriahttps://www.instagram.com/inobscuria/Buy cool stuff with our logo on it!: https://www.redbubble.com/people/InObscuria?asc=uCheck out Robert's amazing fire sculptures and metal workings here: http://flamewerx.com/If you'd like to check out Kevin's band THE SWEAR, take a listen on all streaming services or pick up a digital copy of their latest release here: https://theswear.bandcamp.com/If you want to hear Robert and Kevin's band from the late 90s – early 00s BIG JACK PNEUMATIC, check it out here: https://bigjackpnuematic.bandcamp.com/

Episode 169 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Piece of My Heart" and the short, tragic life of Janis Joplin. 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 "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat & Tears. 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 There are two Mixcloud mixes this time. As there are so many songs by Big Brother and the Holding Company and Janis Joplin 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 . For information on Janis Joplin I used three biographies -- Scars of Sweet Paradise by Alice Echols, Janis: Her Life and Music by Holly George-Warren, and Buried Alive by Myra Friedman. I also referred to the chapter '“Being Good Isn't Always Easy": Aretha Franklin, Janis Joplin, Dusty Springfield, and the Color of Soul' in Just Around Midnight: Rock and Roll and the Racial Imagination by Jack Hamilton. Some information on Bessie Smith came from Bessie Smith by Jackie Kay, a book I can't really recommend given the lack of fact-checking, and Bessie by Chris Albertson. I also referred to Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday by Angela Y. Davis And the best place to start with Joplin's music is this five-CD box, which contains both Big Brother and the Holding Company albums she was involved in, plus her two studio albums and bonus tracks. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I start, this episode contains discussion of drug addiction and overdose, alcoholism, mental illness, domestic abuse, child abandonment, and racism. If those subjects are likely to cause you upset, you may want to check the transcript or skip this one rather than listen. Also, a subject I should probably say a little more about in this intro because I know I have inadvertently caused upset to at least one listener with this in the past. When it comes to Janis Joplin, it is *impossible* to talk about her without discussing her issues with her weight and self-image. The way I write often involves me paraphrasing the opinions of the people I'm writing about, in a mode known as close third person, and sometimes that means it can look like I am stating those opinions as my own, and sometimes things I say in that mode which *I* think are obviously meant in context to be critiques of those attitudes can appear to others to be replicating them. At least once, I have seriously upset a fat listener when talking about issues related to weight in this manner. I'm going to try to be more careful here, but just in case, I'm going to say before I begin that I think fatphobia is a pernicious form of bigotry, as bad as any other form of bigotry. I'm fat myself and well aware of how systemic discrimination affects fat people. I also think more generally that the pressure put on women to look a particular way is pernicious and disgusting in ways I can't even begin to verbalise, and causes untold harm. If *ANYTHING* I say in this episode comes across as sounding otherwise, that's because I haven't expressed myself clearly enough. Like all people, Janis Joplin had negative characteristics, and at times I'm going to say things that are critical of those. But when it comes to anything to do with her weight or her appearance, if *anything* I say sounds critical of her, rather than of a society that makes women feel awful for their appearance, it isn't meant to. Anyway, on with the show. On January the nineteenth, 1943, Seth Joplin typed up a letter to his wife Dorothy, which read “I wish to tender my congratulations on the anniversary of your successful completion of your production quota for the nine months ending January 19, 1943. I realize that you passed through a period of inflation such as you had never before known—yet, in spite of this, you met your goal by your supreme effort during the early hours of January 19, a good three weeks ahead of schedule.” As you can probably tell from that message, the Joplin family were a strange mixture of ultraconformism and eccentricity, and those two opposing forces would dominate the personality of their firstborn daughter for the whole of her life.  Seth Joplin was a respected engineer at Texaco, where he worked for forty years, but he had actually dropped out of engineering school before completing his degree. His favourite pastime when he wasn't at work was to read -- he was a voracious reader -- and to listen to classical music, which would often move him to tears, but he had also taught himself to make bathtub gin during prohibition, and smoked cannabis. Dorothy, meanwhile, had had the possibility of a singing career before deciding to settle down and become a housewife, and was known for having a particularly beautiful soprano voice. Both were, by all accounts, fiercely intelligent people, but they were also as committed as anyone to the ideals of the middle-class family even as they chafed against its restrictions. Like her mother, young Janis had a beautiful soprano voice, and she became a soloist in her church choir, but after the age of six, she was not encouraged to sing much. Dorothy had had a thyroid operation which destroyed her singing voice, and the family got rid of their piano soon after (different sources say that this was either because Dorothy found her daughter's singing painful now that she couldn't sing herself, or because Seth was upset that his wife could no longer sing. Either seems plausible.) Janis was pushed to be a high-achiever -- she was given a library card as soon as she could write her name, and encouraged to use it, and she was soon advanced in school, skipping a couple of grades. She was also by all accounts a fiercely talented painter, and her parents paid for art lessons. From everything one reads about her pre-teen years, she was a child prodigy who was loved by everyone and who was clearly going to be a success of some kind. Things started to change when she reached her teenage years. Partly, this was just her getting into rock and roll music, which her father thought a fad -- though even there, she differed from her peers. She loved Elvis, but when she heard "Hound Dog", she loved it so much that she tracked down a copy of Big Mama Thornton's original, and told her friends she preferred that: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Hound Dog"] Despite this, she was still also an exemplary student and overachiever. But by the time she turned fourteen, things started to go very wrong for her. Partly this was just down to her relationship with her father changing -- she adored him, but he became more distant from his daughters as they grew into women. But also, puberty had an almost wholly negative effect on her, at least by the standards of that time and place. She put on weight (which, again, I do not think is a negative thing, but she did, and so did everyone around her), she got a bad case of acne which didn't ever really go away, and she also didn't develop breasts particularly quickly -- which, given that she was a couple of years younger than the other people in the same classes at school, meant she stood out even more. In the mid-sixties, a doctor apparently diagnosed her as having a "hormone imbalance" -- something that got to her as a possible explanation for why she was, to quote from a letter she wrote then, "not really a woman or enough of one or something." She wondered if "maybe something as simple as a pill could have helped out or even changed that part of me I call ME and has been so messed up.” I'm not a doctor and even if I were, diagnosing historical figures is an unethical thing to do, but certainly the acne, weight gain, and mental health problems she had are all consistent with PCOS, the most common endocrine disorder among women, and it seems likely given what the doctor told her that this was the cause. But at the time all she knew was that she was different, and that in the eyes of her fellow students she had gone from being pretty to being ugly. She seems to have been a very trusting, naive, person who was often the brunt of jokes but who desperately needed to be accepted, and it became clear that her appearance wasn't going to let her fit into the conformist society she was being brought up in, while her high intelligence, low impulse control, and curiosity meant she couldn't even fade into the background. This left her one other option, and she decided that she would deliberately try to look and act as different from everyone else as possible. That way, it would be a conscious choice on her part to reject the standards of her fellow pupils, rather than her being rejected by them. She started to admire rebels. She became a big fan of Jerry Lee Lewis, whose music combined the country music she'd grown up hearing in Texas, the R&B she liked now, and the rebellious nature she was trying to cultivate: [Excerpt: Jerry Lee Lewis, "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On"] When Lewis' career was derailed by his marriage to his teenage cousin, Joplin wrote an angry letter to Time magazine complaining that they had mistreated him in their coverage. But as with so many people of her generation, her love of rock and roll music led her first to the blues and then to folk, and she soon found herself listening to Odetta: [Excerpt: Odetta, "Muleskinner Blues"] One of her first experiences of realising she could gain acceptance from her peers by singing was when she was hanging out with the small group of Bohemian teenagers she was friendly with, and sang an Odetta song, mimicking her voice exactly. But young Janis Joplin was listening to an eclectic range of folk music, and could mimic more than just Odetta. For all that her later vocal style was hugely influenced by Odetta and by other Black singers like Big Mama Thornton and Etta James, her friends in her late teens and early twenties remember her as a vocal chameleon with an achingly pure soprano, who would more often than Odetta be imitating the great Appalachian traditional folk singer Jean Ritchie: [Excerpt: Jean Ritchie, "Lord Randall"] She was, in short, trying her best to become a Beatnik, despite not having any experience of that subculture other than what she read in books -- though she *did* read about them in books, devouring things like Kerouac's On The Road. She came into conflict with her mother, who didn't understand what was happening to her daughter, and who tried to get family counselling to understand what was going on. Her father, who seemed to relate more to Janis, but who was more quietly eccentric, put an end to that, but Janis would still for the rest of her life talk about how her mother had taken her to doctors who thought she was going to end up "either in jail or an insane asylum" to use her words. From this point on, and for the rest of her life, she was torn between a need for approval from her family and her peers, and a knowledge that no matter what she did she couldn't fit in with normal societal expectations. In high school she was a member of the Future Nurses of America, the Future Teachers of America, the Art Club, and Slide Rule Club, but she also had a reputation as a wild girl, and as sexually active (even though by all accounts at this point she was far less so than most of the so-called "good girls" – but her later activity was in part because she felt that if she was going to have that reputation anyway she might as well earn it). She also was known to express radical opinions, like that segregation was wrong, an opinion that the other students in her segregated Texan school didn't even think was wrong, but possibly some sort of sign of mental illness. Her final High School yearbook didn't contain a single other student's signature. And her initial choice of university, Lamar State College of Technology, was not much better. In the next town over, and attended by many of the same students, it had much the same attitudes as the school she'd left. Almost the only long-term effect her initial attendance at university had on her was a negative one -- she found there was another student at the college who was better at painting. Deciding that if she wasn't going to be the best at something she didn't want to do it at all, she more or less gave up on painting at that point. But there was one positive. One of the lecturers at Lamar was Francis Edward "Ab" Abernethy, who would in the early seventies go on to become the Secretary and Editor of the Texas Folklore Society, and was also a passionate folk musician, playing double bass in string bands. Abernethy had a great collection of blues 78s. and it was through this collection that Janis first discovered classic blues, and in particular Bessie Smith: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Black Mountain Blues"] A couple of episodes ago, we had a long look at the history of the music that now gets called "the blues" -- the music that's based around guitars, and generally involves a solo male vocalist, usually Black during its classic period. At the time that music was being made though it wouldn't have been thought of as "the blues" with no modifiers by most people who were aware of it. At the start, even the songs they were playing weren't thought of as blues by the male vocalist/guitarists who played them -- they called the songs they played "reels". The music released by people like Blind Lemon Jefferson, Son House, Robert Johnson, Kokomo Arnold and so on was thought of as blues music, and people would understand and agree with a phrase like "Lonnie Johnson is a blues singer", but it wasn't the first thing people thought of when they talked about "the blues". Until relatively late -- probably some time in the 1960s -- if you wanted to talk about blues music made by Black men with guitars and only that music, you talked about "country blues". If you thought about "the blues", with no qualifiers, you thought about a rather different style of music, one that white record collectors started later to refer to as "classic blues" to differentiate it from what they were now calling "the blues". Nowadays of course if you say "classic blues", most people will think you mean Muddy Waters or John Lee Hooker, people who were contemporary at the time those white record collectors were coming up with their labels, and so that style of music gets referred to as "vaudeville blues", or as "classic female blues": [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] What we just heard was the first big blues hit performed by a Black person, from 1920, and as we discussed in the episode on "Crossroads" that revolutionised the whole record industry when it came out. The song was performed by Mamie Smith, a vaudeville performer, and was originally titled "Harlem Blues" by its writer, Perry Bradford, before he changed the title to "Crazy Blues" to get it to a wider audience. Bradford was an important figure in the vaudeville scene, though other than being the credited writer of "Keep A-Knockin'" he's little known these days. He was a Black musician and grew up playing in minstrel shows (the history of minstrelsy is a topic for another day, but it's more complicated than the simple image of blackface that we are aware of today -- though as with many "more complicated than that" things it is, also the simple image of blackface we're aware of). He was the person who persuaded OKeh records that there would be a market for music made by Black people that sounded Black (though as we're going to see in this episode, what "sounding Black" means is a rather loaded question). "Crazy Blues" was the result, and it was a massive hit, even though it was marketed specifically towards Black listeners: [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] The big stars of the early years of recorded blues were all making records in the shadow of "Crazy Blues", and in the case of its very biggest stars, they were working very much in the same mould. The two most important blues stars of the twenties both got their start in vaudeville, and were both women. Ma Rainey, like Mamie Smith, first performed in minstrel shows, but where Mamie Smith's early records had her largely backed by white musicians, Rainey was largely backed by Black musicians, including on several tracks Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "See See Rider"] Rainey's band was initially led by Thomas Dorsey, one of the most important men in American music, who we've talked about before in several episodes, including the last one. He was possibly the single most important figure in two different genres -- hokum music, when he, under the name "Georgia Tom" recorded "It's Tight Like That" with Tampa Red: [Excerpt: Tampa Red and Georgia Tom, "It's Tight Like That"] And of course gospel music, which to all intents and purposes he invented, and much of whose repertoire he wrote: [Excerpt: Mahalia Jackson, "Take My Hand, Precious Lord"] When Dorsey left Rainey's band, as we discussed right back in episode five, he was replaced by a female pianist, Lil Henderson. The blues was a woman's genre. And Ma Rainey was, by preference, a woman's woman, though she was married to a man: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "Prove it on Me"] So was the biggest star of the classic blues era, who was originally mentored by Rainey. Bessie Smith, like Rainey, was a queer woman who had relationships with men but was far more interested in other women.  There were stories that Bessie Smith actually got her start in the business by being kidnapped by Ma Rainey, and forced into performing on the same bills as her in the vaudeville show she was touring in, and that Rainey taught Smith to sing blues in the process. In truth, Rainey mentored Smith more in stagecraft and the ways of the road than in singing, and neither woman was only a blues singer, though both had huge success with their blues records.  Indeed, since Rainey was already in the show, Smith was initially hired as a dancer rather than a singer, and she also worked as a male impersonator. But Smith soon branched out on her own -- from the beginning she was obviously a star. The great jazz clarinettist Sidney Bechet later said of her "She had this trouble in her, this thing that would not let her rest sometimes, a meanness that came and took her over. But what she had was alive … Bessie, she just wouldn't let herself be; it seemed she couldn't let herself be." Bessie Smith was signed by Columbia Records in 1923, as part of the rush to find and record as many Black women blues singers as possible. Her first recording session produced "Downhearted Blues", which became, depending on which sources you read, either the biggest-selling blues record since "Crazy Blues" or the biggest-selling blues record ever, full stop, selling three quarters of a million copies in the six months after its release: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Downhearted Blues"] Smith didn't make royalties off record sales, only making a flat fee, but she became the most popular Black performer of the 1920s. Columbia signed her to an exclusive contract, and she became so rich that she would literally travel between gigs on her own private train. She lived an extravagant life in every way, giving lavishly to her friends and family, but also drinking extraordinary amounts of liquor, having regular affairs, and also often physically or verbally attacking those around her. By all accounts she was not a comfortable person to be around, and she seemed to be trying to fit an entire lifetime into every moment. From 1923 through 1929 she had a string of massive hits. She recorded material in a variety of styles, including the dirty blues: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Empty Bed Blues] And with accompanists like Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith with Louis Armstrong, "Cold in Hand Blues"] But the music for which she became best known, and which sold the best, was when she sang about being mistreated by men, as on one of her biggest hits, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do" -- and a warning here, I'm going to play a clip of the song, which treats domestic violence in a way that may be upsetting: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do"] That kind of material can often seem horrifying to today's listeners -- and quite correctly so, as domestic violence is a horrifying thing -- and it sounds entirely too excusing of the man beating her up for anyone to find it comfortable listening. But the Black feminist scholar Angela Davis has made a convincing case that while these records, and others by Smith's contemporaries, can't reasonably be considered to be feminist, they *are* at the very least more progressive than they now seem, in that they were, even if excusing it, pointing to a real problem which was otherwise left unspoken. And that kind of domestic violence and abuse *was* a real problem, including in Smith's own life. By all accounts she was terrified of her husband, Jack Gee, who would frequently attack her because of her affairs with other people, mostly women. But she was still devastated when he left her for a younger woman, not only because he had left her, but also because he kidnapped their adopted son and had him put into a care home, falsely claiming she had abused him. Not only that, but before Jack left her closest friend had been Jack's niece Ruby and after the split she never saw Ruby again -- though after her death Ruby tried to have a blues career as "Ruby Smith", taking her aunt's surname and recording a few tracks with Sammy Price, the piano player who worked with Sister Rosetta Tharpe: [Excerpt: Ruby Smith with Sammy Price, "Make Me Love You"] The same month, May 1929, that Gee left her, Smith recorded what was to become her last big hit, and most well-known song, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out": [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] And that could have been the theme for the rest of her life. A few months after that record came out, the Depression hit, pretty much killing the market for blues records. She carried on recording until 1931, but the records weren't selling any more. And at the same time, the talkies came in in the film industry, which along with the Depression ended up devastating the vaudeville audience. Her earnings were still higher than most, but only a quarter of what they had been a year or two earlier. She had one last recording session in 1933, produced by John Hammond for OKeh Records, where she showed that her style had developed over the years -- it was now incorporating the newer swing style, and featured future swing stars Benny Goodman and Jack Teagarden in the backing band: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Gimme a Pigfoot"] Hammond was not hugely impressed with the recordings, preferring her earlier records, and they would be the last she would ever make. She continued as a successful, though no longer record-breaking, live act until 1937, when she and her common-law husband, Lionel Hampton's uncle Richard Morgan, were in a car crash. Morgan escaped, but Smith died of her injuries and was buried on October the fourth 1937. Ten thousand people came to her funeral, but she was buried in an unmarked grave -- she was still legally married to Gee, even though they'd been separated for eight years, and while he supposedly later became rich from songwriting royalties from some of her songs (most of her songs were written by other people, but she wrote a few herself) he refused to pay for a headstone for her. Indeed on more than one occasion he embezzled money that had been raised by other people to provide a headstone. Bessie Smith soon became Joplin's favourite singer of all time, and she started trying to copy her vocals. But other than discovering Smith's music, Joplin seems to have had as terrible a time at university as at school, and soon dropped out and moved back in with her parents. She went to business school for a short while, where she learned some secretarial skills, and then she moved west, going to LA where two of her aunts lived, to see if she could thrive better in a big West Coast city than she did in small-town Texas. Soon she moved from LA to Venice Beach, and from there had a brief sojourn in San Francisco, where she tried to live out her beatnik fantasies at a time when the beatnik culture was starting to fall apart. She did, while she was there, start smoking cannabis, though she never got a taste for that drug, and took Benzedrine and started drinking much more heavily than she had before. She soon lost her job, moved back to Texas, and re-enrolled at the same college she'd been at before. But now she'd had a taste of real Bohemian life -- she'd been singing at coffee houses, and having affairs with both men and women -- and soon she decided to transfer to the University of Texas at Austin. At this point, Austin was very far from the cultural centre it has become in recent decades, and it was still a straitlaced Texan town, but it was far less so than Port Arthur, and she soon found herself in a folk group, the Waller Creek Boys. Janis would play autoharp and sing, sometimes Bessie Smith covers, but also the more commercial country and folk music that was popular at the time, like "Silver Threads and Golden Needles", a song that had originally been recorded by Wanda Jackson but at that time was a big hit for Dusty Springfield's group The Springfields: [Excerpt: The Waller Creek Boys, "Silver Threads and Golden Needles"] But even there, Joplin didn't fit in comfortably. The venue where the folk jams were taking place was a segregated venue, as everywhere around Austin was. And she was enough of a misfit that the campus newspaper did an article on her headlined "She Dares to Be Different!", which read in part "She goes barefooted when she feels like it, wears Levi's to class because they're more comfortable, and carries her Autoharp with her everywhere she goes so that in case she gets the urge to break out into song it will be handy." There was a small group of wannabe-Beatniks, including Chet Helms, who we've mentioned previously in the Grateful Dead episode, Gilbert Shelton, who went on to be a pioneer of alternative comics and create the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, and Shelton's partner in Rip-Off Press, Dave Moriarty, but for the most part the atmosphere in Austin was only slightly better for Janis than it had been in Port Arthur. The final straw for her came when in an annual charity fundraiser joke competition to find the ugliest man on campus, someone nominated her for the "award". She'd had enough of Texas. She wanted to go back to California. She and Chet Helms, who had dropped out of the university earlier and who, like her, had already spent some time on the West Coast, decided to hitch-hike together to San Francisco. Before leaving, she made a recording for her ex-girlfriend Julie Paul, a country and western musician, of a song she'd written herself. It's recorded in what many say was Janis' natural voice -- a voice she deliberately altered in performance in later years because, she would tell people, she didn't think there was room for her singing like that in an industry that already had Joan Baez and Judy Collins. In her early years she would alternate between singing like this and doing her imitations of Black women, but the character of Janis Joplin who would become famous never sang like this. It may well be the most honest thing that she ever recorded, and the most revealing of who she really was: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, "So Sad to Be Alone"] Joplin and Helms made it to San Francisco, and she started performing at open-mic nights and folk clubs around the Bay Area, singing in her Bessie Smith and Odetta imitation voice, and sometimes making a great deal of money by sounding different from the wispier-voiced women who were the norm at those venues. The two friends parted ways, and she started performing with two other folk musicians, Larry Hanks and Roger Perkins, and she insisted that they would play at least one Bessie Smith song at every performance: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, Larry Hanks, and Roger Perkins, "Black Mountain Blues (live in San Francisco)"] Often the trio would be joined by Billy Roberts, who at that time had just started performing the song that would make his name, "Hey Joe", and Joplin was soon part of the folk scene in the Bay Area, and admired by Dino Valenti, David Crosby, and Jerry Garcia among others. She also sang a lot with Jorma Kaukonnen, and recordings of the two of them together have circulated for years: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and Jorma Kaukonnen, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] Through 1963, 1964, and early 1965 Joplin ping-ponged from coast to coast, spending time in the Bay Area, then Greenwich Village, dropping in on her parents then back to the Bay Area, and she started taking vast quantities of methamphetamine. Even before moving to San Francisco she had been an occasional user of amphetamines – at the time they were regularly prescribed to students as study aids during exam periods, and she had also been taking them to try to lose some of the weight she always hated. But while she was living in San Francisco she became dependent on the drug. At one point her father was worried enough about her health to visit her in San Francisco, where she managed to fool him that she was more or less OK. But she looked to him for reassurance that things would get better for her, and he couldn't give it to her. He told her about a concept that he called the "Saturday night swindle", the idea that you work all week so you can go out and have fun on Saturday in the hope that that will make up for everything else, but that it never does. She had occasional misses with what would have been lucky breaks -- at one point she was in a motorcycle accident just as record labels were interested in signing her, and by the time she got out of the hospital the chance had gone. She became engaged to another speed freak, one who claimed to be an engineer and from a well-off background, but she was becoming severely ill from what was by now a dangerous amphetamine habit, and in May 1965 she decided to move back in with her parents, get clean, and have a normal life. Her new fiance was going to do the same, and they were going to have the conformist life her parents had always wanted, and which she had always wanted to want. Surely with a husband who loved her she could find a way to fit in and just be normal. She kicked the addiction, and wrote her fiance long letters describing everything about her family and the new normal life they were going to have together, and they show her painfully trying to be optimistic about the future, like one where she described her family to him: "My mother—Dorothy—worries so and loves her children dearly. Republican and Methodist, very sincere, speaks in clichés which she really means and is very good to people. (She thinks you have a lovely voice and is terribly prepared to like you.) My father—richer than when I knew him and kind of embarrassed about it—very well read—history his passion—quiet and very excited to have me home because I'm bright and we can talk (about antimatter yet—that impressed him)! I keep telling him how smart you are and how proud I am of you.…" She went back to Lamar, her mother started sewing her a wedding dress, and for much of the year she believed her fiance was going to be her knight in shining armour. But as it happened, the fiance in question was described by everyone else who knew him as a compulsive liar and con man, who persuaded her father to give him money for supposed medical tests before the wedding, but in reality was apparently married to someone else and having a baby with a third woman. After the engagement was broken off, she started performing again around the coffeehouses in Austin and Houston, and she started to realise the possibilities of rock music for her kind of performance. The missing clue came from a group from Austin who she became very friendly with, the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and the way their lead singer Roky Erickson would wail and yell: [Excerpt: The 13th Floor Elevators, "You're Gonna Miss Me (live)"] If, as now seemed inevitable, Janis was going to make a living as a performer, maybe she should start singing rock music, because it seemed like there was money in it. There was even some talk of her singing with the Elevators. But then an old friend came to Austin from San Francisco with word from Chet Helms. A blues band had formed, and were looking for a singer, and they remembered her from the coffee houses. Would she like to go back to San Francisco and sing with them? In the time she'd been away, Helms had become hugely prominent in the San Francisco music scene, which had changed radically. A band from the area called the Charlatans had been playing a fake-Victorian saloon called the Red Dog in nearby Nevada, and had become massive with the people who a few years earlier had been beatniks: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "32-20"] When their residency at the Red Dog had finished, several of the crowd who had been regulars there had become a collective of sorts called the Family Dog, and Helms had become their unofficial leader. And there's actually a lot packed into that choice of name. As we'll see in a few future episodes, a lot of West Coast hippies eventually started calling their collectives and communes families. This started as a way to get round bureaucracy -- if a helpful welfare officer put down that the unrelated people living in a house together were a family, suddenly they could get food stamps. As with many things, of course, the label then affected how people thought about themselves, and one thing that's very notable about the San Francisco scene hippies in particular is that they are some of the first people to make a big deal about what we now  call "found family" or "family of choice". But it's also notable how often the hippie found families took their model from the only families these largely middle-class dropouts had ever known, and structured themselves around men going out and doing the work -- selling dope or panhandling or being rock musicians or shoplifting -- with the women staying at home doing the housework. The Family Dog started promoting shows, with the intention of turning San Francisco into "the American Liverpool", and soon Helms was rivalled only by Bill Graham as the major promoter of rock shows in the Bay Area. And now he wanted Janis to come back and join this new band. But Janis was worried. She was clean now. She drank far too much, but she wasn't doing any other drugs. She couldn't go back to San Francisco and risk getting back on methamphetamine. She needn't worry about that, she was told, nobody in San Francisco did speed any more, they were all on LSD -- a drug she hated and so wasn't in any danger from. Reassured, she made the trip back to San Francisco, to join Big Brother and the Holding Company. Big Brother and the Holding Company were the epitome of San Francisco acid rock at the time. They were the house band at the Avalon Ballroom, which Helms ran, and their first ever gig had been at the Trips Festival, which we talked about briefly in the Grateful Dead episode. They were known for being more imaginative than competent -- lead guitarist James Gurley was often described as playing parts that were influenced by John Cage, but was equally often, and equally accurately, described as not actually being able to keep his guitar in tune because he was too stoned. But they were drawing massive crowds with their instrumental freak-out rock music. Helms thought they needed a singer, and he had remembered Joplin, who a few of the group had seen playing the coffee houses. He decided she would be perfect for them, though Joplin wasn't so sure. She thought it was worth a shot, but as she wrote to her parents before meeting the group "Supposed to rehearse w/ the band this afternoon, after that I guess I'll know whether I want to stay & do that for awhile. Right now my position is ambivalent—I'm glad I came, nice to see the city, a few friends, but I'm not at all sold on the idea of becoming the poor man's Cher.” In that letter she also wrote "I'm awfully sorry to be such a disappointment to you. I understand your fears at my coming here & must admit I share them, but I really do think there's an awfully good chance I won't blow it this time." The band she met up with consisted of lead guitarist James Gurley, bass player Peter Albin, rhythm player Sam Andrew, and drummer David Getz.  To start with, Peter Albin sang lead on most songs, with Joplin adding yelps and screams modelled on those of Roky Erickson, but in her first gig with the band she bowled everyone over with her lead vocal on the traditional spiritual "Down on Me", which would remain a staple of their live act, as in this live recording from 1968: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me (Live 1968)"] After that first gig in June 1966, it was obvious that Joplin was going to be a star, and was going to be the group's main lead vocalist. She had developed a whole new stage persona a million miles away from her folk performances. As Chet Helms said “Suddenly this person who would stand upright with her fists clenched was all over the stage. Roky Erickson had modeled himself after the screaming style of Little Richard, and Janis's initial stage presence came from Roky, and ultimately Little Richard. It was a very different Janis.” Joplin would always claim to journalists that her stage persona was just her being herself and natural, but she worked hard on every aspect of her performance, and far from the untrained emotional outpouring she always suggested, her vocal performances were carefully calculated pastiches of her influences -- mostly Bessie Smith, but also Big Mama Thornton, Odetta, Etta James, Tina Turner, and Otis Redding. That's not to say that those performances weren't an authentic expression of part of herself -- they absolutely were. But the ethos that dominated San Francisco in the mid-sixties prized self-expression over technical craft, and so Joplin had to portray herself as a freak of nature who just had to let all her emotions out, a wild woman, rather than someone who carefully worked out every nuance of her performances. Joplin actually got the chance to meet one of her idols when she discovered that Willie Mae Thornton was now living and regularly performing in the Bay Area. She and some of her bandmates saw Big Mama play a small jazz club, where she performed a song she wouldn't release on a record for another two years: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Ball 'n' Chain"] Janis loved the song and scribbled down the lyrics, then went backstage to ask Big Mama if Big Brother could cover the song. She gave them her blessing, but told them "don't" -- and here she used a word I can't use with a clean rating -- "it up". The group all moved in together, communally, with their partners -- those who had them. Janis was currently single, having dumped her most recent boyfriend after discovering him shooting speed, as she was still determined to stay clean. But she was rapidly discovering that the claim that San Franciscans no longer used much speed had perhaps not been entirely true, as for example Sam Andrew's girlfriend went by the nickname Speedfreak Rita. For now, Janis was still largely clean, but she did start drinking more. Partly this was because of a brief fling with Pigpen from the Grateful Dead, who lived nearby. Janis liked Pigpen as someone else on the scene who didn't much like psychedelics or cannabis -- she didn't like drugs that made her think more, but only drugs that made her able to *stop* thinking (her love of amphetamines doesn't seem to fit this pattern, but a small percentage of people have a different reaction to amphetamine-type stimulants, perhaps she was one of those). Pigpen was a big drinker of Southern Comfort -- so much so that it would kill him within a few years -- and Janis started joining him. Her relationship with Pigpen didn't last long, but the two would remain close, and she would often join the Grateful Dead on stage over the years to duet with him on "Turn On Your Lovelight": [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead, "Turn on Your Lovelight"] But within two months of joining the band, Janis nearly left. Paul Rothchild of Elektra Records came to see the group live, and was impressed by their singer, but not by the rest of the band. This was something that would happen again and again over the group's career. The group were all imaginative and creative -- they worked together on their arrangements and their long instrumental jams and often brought in very good ideas -- but they were not the most disciplined or technically skilled of musicians, even when you factored in their heavy drug use, and often lacked the skill to pull off their better ideas. They were hugely popular among the crowds at the Avalon Ballroom, who were on the group's chemical wavelength, but Rothchild was not impressed -- as he was, in general, unimpressed with psychedelic freakouts. He was already of the belief in summer 1966 that the fashion for extended experimental freak-outs would soon come to an end and that there would be a pendulum swing back towards more structured and melodic music. As we saw in the episode on The Band, he would be proved right in a little over a year, but being ahead of the curve he wanted to put together a supergroup that would be able to ride that coming wave, a group that would play old-fashioned blues. He'd got together Stefan Grossman, Steve Mann, and Taj Mahal, and he wanted Joplin to be the female vocalist for the group, dueting with Mahal. She attended one rehearsal, and the new group sounded great. Elektra Records offered to sign them, pay their rent while they rehearsed, and have a major promotional campaign for their first release. Joplin was very, very, tempted, and brought the subject up to her bandmates in Big Brother. They were devastated. They were a family! You don't leave your family! She was meant to be with them forever! They eventually got her to agree to put off the decision at least until after a residency they'd been booked for in Chicago, and she decided to give them the chance, writing to her parents "I decided to stay w/the group but still like to think about the other thing. Trying to figure out which is musically more marketable because my being good isn't enough, I've got to be in a good vehicle.” The trip to Chicago was a disaster. They found that the people of Chicago weren't hugely interested in seeing a bunch of white Californians play the blues, and that the Midwest didn't have the same Bohemian crowds that the coastal cities they were used to had, and so their freak-outs didn't go down well either. After two weeks of their four-week residency, the club owner stopped paying them because they were so unpopular, and they had no money to get home. And then they were approached by Bob Shad. (For those who know the film Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, the Bob Shad in that film is named after this one -- Judd Apatow, the film's director, is Shad's grandson) This Shad was a record producer, who had worked with people like Big Bill Broonzy, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, and Billy Eckstine over an eighteen-year career, and had recently set up a new label, Mainstream Records. He wanted to sign Big Brother and the Holding Company. They needed money and... well, it was a record contract! It was a contract that took half their publishing, paid them a five percent royalty on sales, and gave them no advance, but it was still a contract, and they'd get union scale for the first session. In that first session in Chicago, they recorded four songs, and strangely only one, "Down on Me", had a solo Janis vocal. Of the other three songs, Sam Andrew and Janis dueted on Sam's song "Call on Me", Albin sang lead on the group composition "Blindman", and Gurley and Janis sang a cover of "All Is Loneliness", a song originally by the avant-garde street musician Moondog: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "All is Loneliness"] The group weren't happy with the four songs they recorded -- they had to keep the songs to the length of a single, and the engineers made sure that the needles never went into the red, so their guitars sounded far more polite and less distorted than they were used to. Janis was fascinated by the overdubbing process, though, especially double-tracking, which she'd never tried before but which she turned out to be remarkably good at. And they were now signed to a contract, which meant that Janis wouldn't be leaving the group to go solo any time soon. The family were going to stay together. But on the group's return to San Francisco, Janis started doing speed again, encouraged by the people around the group, particularly Gurley's wife. By the time the group's first single, "Blindman" backed with "All is Loneliness", came out, she was an addict again. That initial single did nothing, but the group were fast becoming one of the most popular in the Bay Area, and almost entirely down to Janis' vocals and on-stage persona. Bob Shad had already decided in the initial session that while various band members had taken lead, Janis was the one who should be focused on as the star, and when they drove to LA for their second recording session it was songs with Janis leads that they focused on. At that second session, in which they recorded ten tracks in two days, the group recorded a mix of material including one of Janis' own songs, the blues track "Women is Losers", and a version of the old folk song "the Cuckoo Bird" rearranged by Albin. Again they had to keep the arrangements to two and a half minutes a track, with no extended soloing and a pop arrangement style, and the results sound a lot more like the other San Francisco bands, notably Jefferson Airplane, than like the version of the band that shows itself in their live performances: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Coo Coo"] After returning to San Francisco after the sessions, Janis went to see Otis Redding at the Fillmore, turning up several hours before the show started on all three nights to make sure she could be right at the front. One of the other audience members later recalled “It was more fascinating for me, almost, to watch Janis watching Otis, because you could tell that she wasn't just listening to him, she was studying something. There was some kind of educational thing going on there. I was jumping around like the little hippie girl I was, thinking This is so great! and it just stopped me in my tracks—because all of a sudden Janis drew you very deeply into what the performance was all about. Watching her watch Otis Redding was an education in itself.” Joplin would, for the rest of her life, always say that Otis Redding was her all-time favourite singer, and would say “I started singing rhythmically, and now I'm learning from Otis Redding to push a song instead of just sliding over it.” [Excerpt: Otis Redding, "I Can't Turn You Loose (live)"] At the start of 1967, the group moved out of the rural house they'd been sharing and into separate apartments around Haight-Ashbury, and they brought the new year in by playing a free show organised by the Hell's Angels, the violent motorcycle gang who at the time were very close with the proto-hippies in the Bay Area. Janis in particular always got on well with the Angels, whose drugs of choice, like hers, were speed and alcohol more than cannabis and psychedelics. Janis also started what would be the longest on-again off-again relationship she would ever have, with a woman named Peggy Caserta. Caserta had a primary partner, but that if anything added to her appeal for Joplin -- Caserta's partner Kimmie had previously been in a relationship with Joan Baez, and Joplin, who had an intense insecurity that made her jealous of any other female singer who had any success, saw this as in some way a validation both of her sexuality and, transitively, of her talent. If she was dating Baez's ex's lover, that in some way put her on a par with Baez, and when she told friends about Peggy, Janis would always slip that fact in. Joplin and Caserta would see each other off and on for the rest of Joplin's life, but they were never in a monogamous relationship, and Joplin had many other lovers over the years. The next of these was Country Joe McDonald of Country Joe and the Fish, who were just in the process of recording their first album Electric Music for the Mind and Body, when McDonald and Joplin first got together: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Grace"] McDonald would later reminisce about lying with Joplin, listening to one of the first underground FM radio stations, KMPX, and them playing a Fish track and a Big Brother track back to back. Big Brother's second single, the other two songs recorded in the Chicago session, had been released in early 1967, and the B-side, "Down on Me", was getting a bit of airplay in San Francisco and made the local charts, though it did nothing outside the Bay Area: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me"] Janis was unhappy with the record, though, writing to her parents and saying, “Our new record is out. We seem to be pretty dissatisfied w/it. I think we're going to try & get out of the record contract if we can. We don't feel that they know how to promote or engineer a record & every time we recorded for them, they get all our songs, which means we can't do them for another record company. But then if our new record does something, we'd change our mind. But somehow, I don't think it's going to." The band apparently saw a lawyer to see if they could get out of the contract with Mainstream, but they were told it was airtight. They were tied to Bob Shad no matter what for the next five years. Janis and McDonald didn't stay together for long -- they clashed about his politics and her greater fame -- but after they split, she asked him to write a song for her before they became too distant, and he obliged and recorded it on the Fish's next album: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Janis"] The group were becoming so popular by late spring 1967 that when Richard Lester, the director of the Beatles' films among many other classics, came to San Francisco to film Petulia, his follow-up to How I Won The War, he chose them, along with the Grateful Dead, to appear in performance segments in the film. But it would be another filmmaker that would change the course of the group's career irrevocably: [Excerpt: Scott McKenzie, "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)"] When Big Brother and the Holding Company played the Monterey Pop Festival, nobody had any great expectations. They were second on the bill on the Saturday, the day that had been put aside for the San Francisco acts, and they were playing in the early afternoon, after a largely unimpressive night before. They had a reputation among the San Francisco crowd, of course, but they weren't even as big as the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape or Country Joe and the Fish, let alone Jefferson Airplane. Monterey launched four careers to new heights, but three of the superstars it made -- Otis Redding, Jimi Hendrix, and the Who -- already had successful careers. Hendrix and the Who had had hits in the UK but not yet broken the US market, while Redding was massively popular with Black people but hadn't yet crossed over to a white audience. Big Brother and the Holding Company, on the other hand, were so unimportant that D.A. Pennebaker didn't even film their set -- their manager at the time had not wanted to sign over the rights to film their performance, something that several of the other acts had also refused -- and nobody had been bothered enough to make an issue of it. Pennebaker just took some crowd shots and didn't bother filming the band. The main thing he caught was Cass Elliot's open-mouthed astonishment at Big Brother's performance -- or rather at Janis Joplin's performance. The members of the group would later complain, not entirely inaccurately, that in the reviews of their performance at Monterey, Joplin's left nipple (the outline of which was apparently visible through her shirt, at least to the male reviewers who took an inordinate interest in such things) got more attention than her four bandmates combined. As Pennebaker later said “She came out and sang, and my hair stood on end. We were told we weren't allowed to shoot it, but I knew if we didn't have Janis in the film, the film would be a wash. Afterward, I said to Albert Grossman, ‘Talk to her manager or break his leg or whatever you have to do, because we've got to have her in this film. I can't imagine this film without this woman who I just saw perform.” Grossman had a talk with the organisers of the festival, Lou Adler and John Phillips, and they offered Big Brother a second spot, the next day, if they would allow their performance to be used in the film. The group agreed, after much discussion between Janis and Grossman, and against the wishes of their manager: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Ball and Chain (live at Monterey)"] They were now on Albert Grossman's radar. Or at least, Janis Joplin was. Joplin had always been more of a careerist than the other members of the group. They were in music to have a good time and to avoid working a straight job, and while some of them were more accomplished musicians than their later reputations would suggest -- Sam Andrew, in particular, was a skilled player and serious student of music -- they were fundamentally content with playing the Avalon Ballroom and the Fillmore and making five hundred dollars or so a week between them. Very good money for 1967, but nothing else. Joplin, on the other hand, was someone who absolutely craved success. She wanted to prove to her family that she wasn't a failure and that her eccentricity shouldn't stop them being proud of her; she was always, even at the depths of her addictions, fiscally prudent and concerned about her finances; and she had a deep craving for love. Everyone who talks about her talks about how she had an aching need at all times for approval, connection, and validation, which she got on stage more than she got anywhere else. The bigger the audience, the more they must love her. She'd made all her decisions thus far based on how to balance making music that she loved with commercial success, and this would continue to be the pattern for her in future. And so when journalists started to want to talk to her, even though up to that point Albin, who did most of the on-stage announcements, and Gurley, the lead guitarist, had considered themselves joint leaders of the band, she was eager. And she was also eager to get rid of their manager, who continued the awkward streak that had prevented their first performance at the Monterey Pop Festival from being filmed. The group had the chance to play the Hollywood Bowl -- Bill Graham was putting on a "San Francisco Sound" showcase there, featuring Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, and got their verbal agreement to play, but after Graham had the posters printed up, their manager refused to sign the contracts unless they were given more time on stage. The next day after that, they played Monterey again -- this time the Monterey Jazz Festival. A very different crowd to the Pop Festival still fell for Janis' performance -- and once again, the film being made of the event didn't include Big Brother's set because of their manager. While all this was going on, the group's recordings from the previous year were rushed out by Mainstream Records as an album, to poor reviews which complained it was nothing like the group's set at Monterey: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] They were going to need to get out of that contract and sign with somewhere better -- Clive Davis at Columbia Records was already encouraging them to sign with him -- but to do that, they needed a better manager. They needed Albert Grossman. Grossman was one of the best negotiators in the business at that point, but he was also someone who had a genuine love for the music his clients made.  And he had good taste -- he managed Odetta, who Janis idolised as a singer, and Bob Dylan, who she'd been a fan of since his first album came out. He was going to be the perfect manager for the group. But he had one condition though. His first wife had been a heroin addict, and he'd just been dealing with Mike Bloomfield's heroin habit. He had one absolutely ironclad rule, a dealbreaker that would stop him signing them -- they didn't use heroin, did they? Both Gurley and Joplin had used heroin on occasion -- Joplin had only just started, introduced to the drug by Gurley -- but they were only dabblers. They could give it up any time they wanted, right? Of course they could. They told him, in perfect sincerity, that the band didn't use heroin and it wouldn't be a problem. But other than that, Grossman was extremely flexible. He explained to the group at their first meeting that he took a higher percentage than other managers, but that he would also make them more money than other managers -- if money was what they wanted. He told them that they needed to figure out where they wanted their career to be, and what they were willing to do to get there -- would they be happy just playing the same kind of venues they were now, maybe for a little more money, or did they want to be as big as Dylan or Peter, Paul, and Mary? He could get them to whatever level they wanted, and he was happy with working with clients at every level, what did they actually want? The group were agreed -- they wanted to be rich. They decided to test him. They were making twenty-five thousand dollars a year between them at that time, so they got ridiculously ambitious. They told him they wanted to make a *lot* of money. Indeed, they wanted a clause in their contract saying the contract would be void if in the first year they didn't make... thinking of a ridiculous amount, they came up with seventy-five thousand dollars. Grossman's response was to shrug and say "Make it a hundred thousand." The group were now famous and mixing with superstars -- Peter Tork of the Monkees had become a close friend of Janis', and when they played a residency in LA they were invited to John and Michelle Phillips' house to see a rough cut of Monterey Pop. But the group, other than Janis, were horrified -- the film barely showed the other band members at all, just Janis. Dave Getz said later "We assumed we'd appear in the movie as a band, but seeing it was a shock. It was all Janis. They saw her as a superstar in the making. I realized that though we were finally going to be making money and go to another level, it also meant our little family was being separated—there was Janis, and there was the band.” [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] If the group were going to make that hundred thousand dollars a year, they couldn't remain on Mainstream Records, but Bob Shad was not about to give up his rights to what could potentially be the biggest group in America without a fight. But luckily for the group, Clive Davis at Columbia had seen their Monterey performance, and he was also trying to pivot the label towards the new rock music. He was basically willing to do anything to get them. Eventually Columbia agreed to pay Shad two hundred thousand dollars for the group's contract -- Davis and Grossman negotiated so half that was an advance on the group's future earnings, but the other half was just an expense for the label. On top of that the group got an advance payment of fifty thousand dollars for their first album for Columbia, making a total investment by Columbia of a quarter of a million dollars -- in return for which they got to sign the band, and got the rights to the material they'd recorded for Mainstream, though Shad would get a two percent royalty on their first two albums for Columbia. Janis was intimidated by signing for Columbia, because that had been Aretha Franklin's label before she signed to Atlantic, and she regarded Franklin as the greatest performer in music at that time.  Which may have had something to do with the choice of a new song the group added to their setlist in early 1968 -- one which was a current hit for Aretha's sister Erma: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] We talked a little in the last episode about the song "Piece of My Heart" itself, though mostly from the perspective of its performer, Erma Franklin. But the song was, as we mentioned, co-written by Bert Berns. He's someone we've talked about a little bit in previous episodes, notably the ones on "Here Comes the Night" and "Twist and Shout", but those were a couple of years ago, and he's about to become a major figure in the next episode, so we might as well take a moment here to remind listeners (or tell those who haven't heard those episodes) of the basics and explain where "Piece of My Heart" comes in Berns' work as a whole. Bert Berns was a latecomer to the music industry, not getting properly started until he was thirty-one, after trying a variety of other occupations. But when he did get started, he wasted no time making his mark -- he knew he had no time to waste. He had a weak heart and knew the likelihood was he was going to die young. He started an association with Wand records as a songwriter and performer, writing songs for some of Phil Spector's pre-fame recordings, and he also started producing records for Atlantic, where for a long while he was almost the equal of Jerry Wexler or Leiber and Stoller in terms of number of massive hits created. His records with Solomon Burke were the records that first got the R&B genre renamed soul (previously the word "soul" mostly referred to a kind of R&Bish jazz, rather than a kind of gospel-ish R&B). He'd also been one of the few American music industry professionals to work with British bands before the Beatles made it big in the USA, after he became alerted to the Beatles' success with his song "Twist and Shout", which he'd co-written with Phil Medley, and which had been a hit in a version Berns produced for the Isley Brothers: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] That song shows the two elements that existed in nearly every single Bert Berns song or production. The first is the Afro-Caribbean rhythm, a feel he picked up during a stint in Cuba in his twenties. Other people in the Atlantic records team were also partial to those rhythms -- Leiber and Stoller loved what they called the baion rhythm -- but Berns more than anyone else made it his signature. He also very specifically loved the song "La Bamba", especially Ritchie Valens' version of it: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, "La Bamba"] He basically seemed to think that was the greatest record ever made, and he certainly loved that three-chord trick I-IV-V-IV chord sequence -- almost but not quite the same as the "Louie Louie" one.  He used it in nearly every song he wrote from that point on -- usually using a bassline that went something like this: [plays I-IV-V-IV bassline] He used it in "Twist and Shout" of course: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] He used it in "Hang on Sloopy": [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"] He *could* get more harmonically sophisticated on occasion, but the vast majority of Berns' songs show the power of simplicity. They're usually based around three chords, and often they're actually only two chords, like "I Want Candy": [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"] Or the chorus to "Here Comes the Night" by Them, which is two chords for most of it and only introduces a third right at the end: [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"] And even in that song you can hear the "Twist and Shout"/"La Bamba" feel, even if it's not exactly the same chords. Berns' whole career was essentially a way of wringing *every last possible drop* out of all the implications of Ritchie Valens' record. And so even when he did a more harmonically complex song, like "Piece of My Heart", which actually has some minor chords in the bridge, the "La Bamba" chord sequence is used in both the verse: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] And the chorus: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] Berns co-wrote “Piece of My Heart” with Jerry Ragavoy. Berns and Ragavoy had also written "Cry Baby" for Garnet Mimms, which was another Joplin favourite: [Excerpt: Garnet Mimms, "Cry Baby"] And Ragavoy, with other collaborators

533 - Roky Erickson - Burn the Flames: Chris, Nick, and Andy are joined by friend of the show Chris Brown to break down "Burn the Flames" from the 1986 album Don't Slander Me by Roky Erickson.This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/4137237/advertisement

A special session is at an impasse over one of the governor’s top agenda items: Gov. Greg Abbott says if the Texas Legislature doesn’t pass his proposal to use tax dollars to cover private school tuition, he’ll keep calling lawmakers back to the Capitol until they do. Remembering Roky Erickson, a Texas pioneer in psychedelic music. […] The post How artificial ocean reefs can help fight climate change appeared first on KUT & KUTX Studios -- Podcasts.

Playlist:  1. Goblin - Suspiria (Celesta & Bells) 2. John Carpenter - Here Comes The Boogie Man 3. Carl Stalling - The Skeleton Dance 4. Bettye LaVette - Witchcraft In The Air 5. Los Africanos - Monster Party 6. The Grim Reapers - Two Souls 7. R. Dean Taylor - There's A Ghost In My House 8. Serge Gainsbourg - Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde 9. Link Wray & His Ray Men - Jack The Ripper 10. The Stomach Mouths - Nightmares 11. Sultans of Ping - Teenage Vampire 12. The Fall - City Hobgoblins 13. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Graveyard 14. Jon Spencer - Ghost 15. Shorty Long - Devil With The Blue Dress 16. The Duhks - Death Came A Knockin' 17. The Beautiful South - (Don't Fear) The Reaper 18. The Poets - Dead 19. France Gall - Frankenstein 20. Tommy Falcone & The Centuries - Like Weird 21. The Spellbinders - Castin' My Spell 22. The Electro-Tones - Ghost Train 23. Dave Gardner - Mad Witch 24. Big Jay McNeely & Band - Psycho Serenade 25. Screamin' Jay Hawkins - Little Demon 26. Little Richard - Heeby Jeebies 27. The Sonics - The Witch 28. Mad Mike  & The Maniacs - The Hunch 29. The Ghastly Ones - Grave Dig Her 30. The Caravans - The Spook 31. The Ebb-Tides - Seance 32. The Cramps - Human Fly 33. The Five Blobs - From The Top Of Your Guggle (To The Bottom Of Your Zooch) 34. Rose & The Arrangement - The Cockroach That Ate Cincinnati 35. The Alleykatz - The Friendly Undertaker 36. Mark Sultan - Coffin Nails 37. Johnny Fever - Zombie 38. Mr. Baseman & The Symbols - Do The Zombie 39. Steve King - Satan Is Her Name 40. Bryan "Legs" Walker - Trick Or Treat 41. The Nu Trends - Spooksville 42. The Moon-Rays - Mr. Ghost Goes To Town 43. Elroy Dietzel & The Rhythm Bandits - Rock-N-Bones 44. Claudine Clark - Walkin' Through A Cemetery 45. Bobby Bare - Vampira 46. Tom Waits - Whistlin' Past The Graveyard 47. The Birthday Party - Release The Bats 48. Elvis Costello - Shallow Grave 49. Iron Butterfly - Real Fright 50. The Soft Boys - The Face Of Death 51. Madonnatron - Mother's Funeral 52. Siouxsie & The Banshees - Halloween 53. Southern Death Cult - False Faces 54. Bauhaus - Dark Entries 55. Go-Go's - He's So Strange 56. Parallels - Pet Semetary 57. The Smiths - Death At One's Elbow 58. The Cure - The Blood 59. Roky Erickson & The Aliens - I Think Of Demons 60. Chuck Prophet - Castro Halloween 61. Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians - My Wife & My Dead Wife 62. Franz Ferdinand - Evil Eye 63. The Damned - Grimly Fiendish 64. David Lindley & El Rayo-X - Werewolves Of London 65. Fishbone - Bonin' In The Boneyard 66. Depeche Mode - Enjoy the Silence (Harmonium) 67. 'Dead - The Twilight Zone '85 Main Title 68. Broadcast & The Focus Group - A Seancing Song 69. John Carpenter - Was It The Boogie Man? Image: Halloween 2023      Podomatic: https://soulshenanigans.podomatic.com Apple Podcasts: https://apple.co/3fYzstV Google Podcasts: https://bit.ly/331g0tM Amazon Music: https://amzn.to/32OIqGI TuneIn Radio: https://bit.ly/30UUPIu Mixcloud: https://www.mixcloud.com/soulshenanigans  Twitter: @soulshenanigans Facebook: soulshenanigans Email: soulshenanigans(at)gmail.com          

IT IS TIME TO WALK WITH THE ZOMBIES! 'WELCOME TO THE PORTAL NO ONE LEAVES ALIVE. HALLOWEEN IS UPON US, AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO CELEBRATE THIS TERRIFYING TRADITION THAN A "DIG THIS" JOURNEY INTO THE THE NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRE.YOU WILL BE TRANSPORTED AND EDUCATED WITH DELIGHTFUL DREAD AS WE VISIT THE TALE OF ROCK AND REAPER ICON ROKY ERICKSON, A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE SPOOKY SPLENDOR OF HALLOWEEN AND THE MEMORY OF JOHN ZACHERLE, THE HEAD MASTER OF THE GHOUL SCHOOL OF OUR YOUTH.ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!!!PLEASE VISIT "DIG THIS" AT  https://www.buzzsprout.com/2028913 FOR A VARIETY OF ENTERTAINING MUSIC AND POP CULTURE  PODCASTS!!

Chasing off scorpions, evolving into something else, and studying time. Danny Lee Blackwell (Night Beats, Abraxas) “Night Beats is the brain-child of Native Texan Danny Lee Blackwell. The soundtrack of a generation, the band's R&B inspired Western Psychedelic sound is a reckoning, a shoot-out at dawn, the ear-splitting peel-out that leaves nothing but a cloud of red dust in its wake. Through the years Night Beats has garnered a reputation as one of the finest purveyors of contemporary rock'n'roll around. They've clocked up critical acclaim, toured around the world and shared the stage with the likes of Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees, The Black Angels, Roky Erickson and The Jesus and Mary Chain, among many others.” Excerpt from https://thenightbeats.us/pages/info Night Beats: Bandcamp: https://nightbeats.bandcamp.com/music Instagram: @thenightsbeats Website: https://thenightbeats.us Merch: https://nightbeats.bandcamp.com/merch Abraxas: Bandcamp: https://abraxasintl.bandcamp.com/album/monte-carlo Instagram: @abraxasintl Merch: https://abraxasintl.bandcamp.com/merch Records: https://suicide-squeeze.myshopify.com/products/abraxas-monte-carlo The Vineyard: Instagram: @thevineyardpodcast Website: https://www.thevineyardpodcast.com Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5Ndle3K... Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast...

Hello all you witches, ghouls and goblins! This is a special Halloween episode called "Halloween Fun + Halloween Fun II: The Deadly Duo" featuring my last two Halloween episodes "Halloween Fun" and "Halloween Fun II: Deep Cutz." This cast also features some new spooky jams by Olivia Rodrigo, Palehound and the Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter. After that, its songs for the Halloween dance floor and also songs for the after party, including tunes by The Spits, Cherry Glazerr, Louis Armstrong, Kim Petras, The Misfits, Whodini, Roky Erickson, The Exbats, Concrete Blonde, Dusty Springfield, Gucci Mane and more! Also, a fun and scary horror movie soundtrack game, spooky commercials and two original horrific tunes by yours truly.Happy Haunting!Support the show

Welcome back to Aquarium Drunkard Transmissions, so glad to have you here once again. Our guest this week is Will Sheff, known for his solo work and years with the indie rock band Okkervil River. In this conversation, Sheff and host Jason P. Woodbury cover a wide stretch, examining how the indie rock landscape has changed and evolved over decades, exploring the spiritual core at the heart of his music, and hearing stories about his interactions with luminaries like Roky Erickson and Jason Molina. Transmissions is a part of the Talkhouse Podcast Network. Visit the Talkhouse for more interviews, fascinating reads, and podcasts, like Drifter's Sympathy, with Emil Amos of Grails, Om, Holy Sons, who will be our guest next week on Transmissions, and of course, No Way Out: An Oral History of Sunburned Hand of the Man, curated and produced by J Kelly Davis and presented by Aquarium Drunkard and Talkhouse.  Support Aquarium Drunkard Transmissions on Patreon.

Today's guest is writer Laura Snapes. Her work has been published by the BBC, Pitchfork, and NME, and she's the deputy music editor of The Guardian. We've been aiming to have her for Transmissions for some time now, and now we're so glad we've got this episode to share with you listeners, covering the psycho-geology of songs, the climate, varied definitions of the term “Americana,” and her recent listening: Julie Byrne, Be Your Own Pet, Róisín Murphy, and Jesse Lanza. Plus, the occult roots of Aphex Twin and what it means to "name" a nascent music genre. Transmissions is a part of the Talkhouse Podcast Network. Visit the Talkhouse for more interviews, fascinating reads, and podcasts.  Next week on Transmissions? Will Sheff of Okkervil River on Roky Erickson, Jason Molina, Bill Fay, and much, much more. Be well in the meantime, this Transmission is concluded. 

It's Bizarro week at Not in a Creepy Way: Brothers J and Eric watched High Fidelity, a movie J loves for nostalgic reasons and Eric hates because he didn't see it when it came out and he hates all the characters. Along the way they discuss mix-tapes, the Phonolog, the 13th Floor Elevators, Roky Erickson, and Catherine Zeta-Jones.    Housekeeping starts about 38:48 during which they discuss the joys of vehicle ownership and vacation plans   File length 48:09 File Size 34.6 MB Theme by Jul Big Green via SongFinch Subscribe to us on Apple Podcasts Listen to us on Stitcher Like us on Facebook Follow us on Twitter Send your comments to show@notinacreepyway.com Visit the show website at Not In A Creepy Way

*They were psychedelic outlaws holing up in hill country hideouts to escape police harassment, dealing drugs to survive and blasting out a mix of LSD evangelism, mystical philosophy and grooved up rock'n'roll.   *In their short existence, The 13th Floor Elevators succeeded in blowing the lid off the musical underground, logging early salvos in the countercultural struggle against state authorities, and turning their deeply hallucinatory take on jug-band garage rock into a new American institution called psychedelic music.    *Paul Drummond author of 'Eye Mind - the Saga of Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators' deemed the band significant enough to spend eight years of his life researching and writing about them - along with producing the definitve compilations of their work.   *We dig into their craziness - and into Janis Joplin, LSD, peyote, Antonin Artaud, mayhem, madness, music and more.   For More on Paul and his work #13thfloorelevators #counterculture #the13thfloorelevators #lsd #acid #psychedelicsound #psychedelicrock #occult #psychedelic #peyote  #rokyerickson #esoteric 

Singer/songwriter John Davis (Superdrag, The Lees of Memory) brings us the third and final album by Texas psyche rock pioneers The 13th Floor Elevators: 'Bull Of The Woods'. With other founding members Roky Erickson and Tommy Hall somewhat sidelined with various legal and personal issues, guitarist/songwriter Stacy Sutherland stepped-up to complete this dreamy, evocative slab of psychedelia that proved to be their swan song. Songs featured in this episode: Bull Of The Woods (Radio Spot) - 13th Floor Elevators; Sucked Out - Superdrag; Lonely Everywhere - The Lees Of Memory; If I Can't Have Your Love - John Davis; Do The Vampire - Superdrag; Slip Inside This House, Before You Accuse Me, Livin' On, Barnyard Blues, Till Then - 13th Floor Elevators; Movin' On Up - Primal Scream; The Black Angel's Death Song - The Velvet Underground; Never Another, Rose and the Thorn - 13th Floor Elevators; Ranting and Raving - The Rectangle Shades; Down By The River, Scarlet and Gold - 13th Floor Elevators; The Ostrich - The Primitives; Street Song - 13th Floor Elevators; All Along The Watchtower - Bob Dylan; Dr Doom, With You, May The Circle Remain Unbroken - 13th Floor Elevators; All You Really Want Is Love - The Lees Of Memory

One of my favourite episodes ever. Sometimes things just click! Friendly Rich, Canada's legendary songsmith of dark and deranged folk songs, has just announced his highly anticipated new LP Man Out of Time (due out March 31st on We Are Busy Bodies) with an advance single and video for the song Le P'tit Bonheur. This latest single is sung in French and is an homage to one of Friendly Rich's greatest inspirations. In explaining the single he had to say, “I hope you enjoy this release, this work means alot to me, I honour the great Quebecois songwriter Felix Leclerc, and I go to even darker places as a songwriter. I wanted to honour Felix Leclerc's music, and was able to dive into it with Mike T Kerr and Drew Jurecka to help.”  What came out is a dark and unique interpretation that sets the tone for this record. With 4 Leclerc songs embedded throughout the recording, Man Out of Time shows the many sides of Friendly Rich as a composer and performer. Friendly Rich describes his latest studio recording as a “dark reflection of the pandemic”. But there's more going on here - a punk sensibility with a folky delivery creates a unique sound that is as dark and hopeless as the pandemic that inspired it. Man Out of Time features a rolling cast of Canadian musicians and guest performances by Brian Poole (Renaldo & The Loaf), Kevin Breit (Nora Jones, Hugh Laurie), Christine Duncan (Tanya Tagaq), Michael Ward-Bergeman (Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble) and many more unique musicians.  The full length recording features unique interpretations of legendary Quebecois songwriter Felix Leclerc among Friendly Rich's honed brand of deranged folk songs. The music can be described as high-energy, rhythmic and atmospheric, ranging from sullen stripped down ballads to frenetic folky foot-stompers. Friendly Rich's music is theatrical and melodic and brings to mind early Bowie with hints of operatic rock in the vein of T-Rex and Roky Erickson. D I S C O V E R Website: http://www.friendlyrich.com Bandcamp: https://friendlyrich.bandcamp.com Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/friendlyrich Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/friendlyrich Twitter: https://twitter.com/Friendly_Rich YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/friendlyrich Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1SWneDpUI2N0Bz46xl1cg5?si=zo59VzLcR9mAZr6F_m9ksg Brought to you by AIXdspShop now and get up to 50% off on all plugins.Website: HEREPledge monthly with Patreon https://www.patreon.com/apologueShop Apologue products at http://apologue.ca/shop

Episode 134 of Pudding On The Wrist finds your host, Frozen Lazuras, spinning choice cuts from Tindersticks, The Fates, Sibylle Baier, Roky Erickson, Le Clan 91, Kishore Kumar, and so many more.

Singer-songwriter, guitarist, and performer Sunny War is my guest this week. Extreme emotions can make that battle all the more perilous, yet from such trials Sunny has crafted a set of songs that draw on a range of ideas and styles, as though she's marshaling all her forces to get her ideas across: ecstatic gospel, dusty country blues, thoughtful folk, rip-roaring rock and roll, even avant garde studio experiments (like the collage of voices that closes “Shelter and Storm”). She melds them together into a powerful statement of survival, revealing a probing songwriter who indulges no comforting platitudes and a highly innovative guitarist who deploys spidery riffs throughout every song. It's a style she's been honing for most of her life, at least since she took her first guitar lessons and fell in love with music. True to the punk ethos, her first punk band, the Anus Kings, made music with whatever they had at hand, and what they had at hand were acoustic guitars. That made them stand out among other Los Angeles groups at the time, and today Sunny is the rare roots artist who covers Ween and can drop a Crass reference into a song (as she does on “Whole”). “I don't really make music with a traditional roots audience in mind. I like weird music, outsider music, like Daniel Johnston and Roky Erickson.” Even as she was developing a guitar style that married acoustic punk to country blues, those two sides of Sunny were already at odds. As a teenager, she began drinking heavily, which led to her dropping out of school. She played punk shows, stole and chugged bottles of vodka, and quickly became addicted to heroin and meth. For money she busked along the boardwalks in Venice Beach, recording an album to sell out of her guitar case and letting that self-destructive side win most of the battles. But “the body can't handle both heroin and meth,” she explains. “When you're young, it's hard to gauge that you're killing yourself.” A series of seizures landed her in a sober living facility in Compton, so emaciated that she could only wear children's pajamas. Music remained a lifeline, and she fell in with a crew at Hen House Studios in Venice, where over the years she made a series of albums and EPs, including 2018's With the Sun and 2021's Simple Syrup. Twelve years after she kicked meth and heroin, Sunny is remarkably candid about this time in her life. “Everyone I loved died before they reached 25. They OD'ed or killed themselves. We were just kids who didn't have anyone looking out for us. You're not supposed to know so much about death at such a young age. Maybe that's why I write a lot about not taking shit for granted, because it always feels like something's about to happen.” (sunnywar.com) If you enjoy the podcast, please let others know, subscribe or write a review. 5 star ratings and reviews on Apple Music as well as subscribing to my YouTube Channel help out the most! IF YOU'D LIKE TO SUPPORT THE PODCAST IN A MONETARY WAY, I'M NOW ON PATREON! www.patreon.com/andysydow Guest Links: Website: https://www.sunnywar.com Episode Music: Original music by Andy Sydow Sponsors: A huge thanks to our sponsor, Narrator Music. For any sponsorship inquiries, shoot me an email at middleclassrockstar@gmail.com narratormusic.com

RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD came out of left field in the summer of 1985 - a horror movie featuring bloodthirsty zombies, genuine scares, side-splitting humor and a punk rock soundtrack.  It's one of the most brilliant zombie films ever made.  If there's anyone out there who doesn't love this film, they're wrong.  Return to the RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, as I discuss what makes this film so great.  Available on your favorite podcast app NOW!  Please Like, Share and SUBSCRIBE!  

Mike and Mike are on this week! We spent the bulk of the last few months covering the plethora or excellent new horror movies that were released in 2022.  This week, we're going back to the 80's with Vampyres, the UK vampire film by Spanish director Jose Ramon Larraz.   Intro:   “Necromaniacs” – Mike Hill Outro:  “Night of the Vampire” Entombed cover of Roky Erickson

Comedian and columnist Stewart Lee remains “grateful to the people who brainwashed me into listening to Bob Dylan during a period of emotional and physical weakness.” He remembers seeing Dylan live at Hyde Park with his kids (“one of the greatest nights of my life”) as well as the time he alienated the audience at a Teenage Cancer Trust Benefit. “It was a good gig. 'Cause it was true. Self-sabotage keeps you alive. Chaos and confusion create a bubble that protects you.” Stew namechecks Dylan, Mark E. Smith, Jerry Sadowitz, William Blake, Roky Erickson and Mozart as fellow artists who “develop a split personality that says: what if I make him do this?” Warning: listeners should keep in mind that Mr Lee is “a cultural bully from the Oxbridge Mafia who wants to appear morally superior but couldn't cut the mustard on a panel game.” (Lee Mack)This is a review (Dominic Maxwell, The Times) of Stewart's current show, Basic Lee: "If someone says they're going back to basics, can they be trusted? When Stewart Lee tells you he is going back to basics you sniff only fresh mischief in his chortlingly bold smush of sarcasm, satire, self-commentary and alternately lugubrious and exultant flights of fancy. It is hard, Lee tells us, to try to be funny in these days of frenetic social and political change. So he bookends this new show, which he wants to stay relevant until its tour ends in 2024, with a reworking of a routine he first performed at the start of his career in 1989. Self-plagiarism? Actually, Lee could profitably spend the rest of his career rejigging old routines, much as Miles Davis was able to find endless new takes on Stella by Starlight. At his best, as he delivers a comedy show that is a kind of lecture about comedy shows, he cheeks the crowd so surely that the effect is insulting yet intimate. Basic Lee is one of his more pretzel-shaped evenings. If its inner logic isn't always easy to grasp, who cares when something is rendered with this much wit and verve? What's it all about? It's all about two hours long, it's all very clever, but, basically, Basic Lee is very funny.""What would it be like if Bob Dylan from the 60's took a look a stand-up comedy today?"The Dream Syndicate's cover of Blind Willie McTell (1988)Steve Wynn, Murder Most Foul (2020)WebsiteTwitterTrailerEpisode playlist on AppleEpisode playlist on SpotifyListeners: please subscribe and/or leave a review and a rating.Twitter @isitrollingpodRecorded 16th November 2022This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts

Comedian and columnist Stewart Lee remains “grateful to the people who brainwashed me into listening to Bob Dylan during a period of emotional and physical weakness.” He remembers seeing Dylan live at Hyde Park with his kids (“one of the greatest nights of my life”) as well as the time he alienated the audience at a Teenage Cancer Trust Benefit. “It was a good gig. 'Cause it was true. Self-sabotage keeps you alive. Chaos and confusion create a bubble that protects you.” Stew namechecks Dylan, Mark E. Smith, Jerry Sadowitz, William Blake, Roky Erickson and Mozart as fellow artists who “develop a split personality that says: what if I make him do this?” Warning: listeners should keep in mind that Mr Lee is “a cultural bully from the Oxbridge Mafia who wants to appear morally superior but couldn't cut the mustard on a panel game.” (Lee Mack)This is a review (Dominic Maxwell, The Times) of Stewart's current show, Basic Lee: "If someone says they're going back to basics, can they be trusted? When Stewart Lee tells you he is going back to basics you sniff only fresh mischief in his chortlingly bold smush of sarcasm, satire, self-commentary and alternately lugubrious and exultant flights of fancy. It is hard, Lee tells us, to try to be funny in these days of frenetic social and political change. So he bookends this new show, which he wants to stay relevant until its tour ends in 2024, with a reworking of a routine he first performed at the start of his career in 1989. Self-plagiarism? Actually, Lee could profitably spend the rest of his career rejigging old routines, much as Miles Davis was able to find endless new takes on Stella by Starlight. At his best, as he delivers a comedy show that is a kind of lecture about comedy shows, he cheeks the crowd so surely that the effect is insulting yet intimate. Basic Lee is one of his more pretzel-shaped evenings. If its inner logic isn't always easy to grasp, who cares when something is rendered with this much wit and verve? What's it all about? It's all about two hours long, it's all very clever, but, basically, Basic Lee is very funny.""What would it be like if Bob Dylan from the 60's took a look a stand-up comedy today?"The Dream Syndicate's cover of Blind Willie McTell (1988)Steve Wynn, Murder Most Foul (2020)WebsiteTwitterTrailerEpisode playlist on AppleEpisode playlist on SpotifyListeners: please subscribe and/or leave a review and a rating.Twitter @isitrollingpodRecorded 16th November 2022This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts

2:06:42 – Frank in NJ, plus the Other Side. Topics include: The Incoherent Tuatara’s Telephone Cantina, Choston Bands & Junkard Sane, AI interview time, modeling the world – past and present, Snoopy’s Hotel Life, reorganized the bookshelf, new vegan vitamins, Roky Erickson – “The War of the Worlds martians have landed”, Post-Arlen Monologix, Patch 001, Akka Arrh, […]

Episode one hundred and fifty-seven of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “See Emily Play", the birth of the UK underground, and the career of Roger Barrett, known as Syd. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-five-minute bonus episode available, on "First Girl I Loved" by the Incredible String Band. 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, due to the number of Pink Floyd songs. I referred to two biographies of Barrett in this episode -- A Very Irregular Head by Rob Chapman is the one I would recommend, and the one whose narrative I have largely followed. Some of the information has been superseded by newer discoveries, but Chapman is almost unique in people writing about Barrett in that he actually seems to care about the facts and try to get things right rather than make up something more interesting. Crazy Diamond by Mike Watkinson and Pete Anderson is much less reliable, but does have quite a few interview quotes that aren't duplicated by Chapman. Information about Joe Boyd comes from Boyd's book White Bicycles. In this and future episodes on Pink Floyd I'm also relying on Nick Mason's Inside Out: A Personal History of Pink Floyd and Pink Floyd: All the Songs by Jean-Michel Guesdon and Philippe Margotin. The compilation Relics contains many of the most important tracks from Barrett's time with Pink Floyd, while Piper at the Gates of Dawn is his one full album with them. Those who want a fuller history of his time with the group will want to get Piper and also the box set Cambridge St/ation 1965-1967. Barrett only released two solo albums during his career. They're available as a bundle here. Completists will also want the rarities and outtakes collection Opel.  ERRATA: I talk about “Interstellar Overdrive” as if Barrett wrote it solo. The song is credited to all four members, but it was Barrett who came up with the riff I talk about. And annoyingly, given the lengths I went to to deal correctly with Barrett's name, I repeatedly refer to "Dave" Gilmour, when Gilmour prefers David. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript A note before I begin -- this episode deals with drug use and mental illness, so anyone who might be upset by those subjects might want to skip this one. But also, there's a rather unique problem in how I deal with the name of the main artist in the story today. The man everyone knows as Syd Barrett was born Roger Barrett, used that name with his family for his whole life, and in later years very strongly disliked being called "Syd", yet everyone other than his family called him that at all times until he left the music industry, and that's the name that appears on record labels, including his solo albums. I don't believe it's right to refer to people by names they choose not to go by themselves, but the name Barrett went by throughout his brief period in the public eye was different from the one he went by later, and by all accounts he was actually distressed by its use in later years. So what I'm going to do in this episode is refer to him as "Roger Barrett" when a full name is necessary for disambiguation or just "Barrett" otherwise, but I'll leave any quotes from other people referring to "Syd" as they were originally phrased. In future episodes on Pink Floyd, I'll refer to him just as Barrett, but in episodes where I discuss his influence on other artists, I will probably have to use "Syd Barrett" because otherwise people who haven't listened to this episode won't know what on Earth I'm talking about. Anyway, on with the show. “It's gone!” sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. “So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!” he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound. “Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,” he said presently. “O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us.” That's a quote from a chapter titled "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" from the classic children's book The Wind in the Willows -- a book which for most of its length is a fairly straightforward story about anthropomorphic animals having jovial adventures, but which in that one chapter has Rat and Mole suddenly encounter the Great God Pan and have a hallucinatory, transcendental experience caused by his music, one so extreme it's wiped from their minds, as they simply cannot process it. The book, and the chapter, was a favourite of Roger Barrett, a young child born in Cambridge in 1946. Barrett came from an intellectual but not especially bookish family. His father, Dr. Arthur Barrett, was a pathologist -- there's a room in Addenbrooke's Hospital named after him -- but he was also an avid watercolour painter, a world-leading authority on fungi, and a member of the Cambridge Philharmonic Society who was apparently an extraordinarily good singer; while his mother Winifred was a stay-at-home mother who was nonetheless very active in the community, organising a local Girl Guide troupe. They never particularly encouraged their family to read, but young Roger did particularly enjoy the more pastoral end of the children's literature of the time. As well as the Wind in the Willows he also loved Alice in Wonderland, and the Little Grey Men books -- a series of stories about tiny gnomes and their adventures in the countryside. But his two big passions were music and painting. He got his first ukulele at age eleven, and by the time his father died, just before Roger's sixteenth birthday, he had graduated to playing a full-sized guitar. At the time his musical tastes were largely the same as those of any other British teenager -- he liked Chubby Checker, for example -- though he did have a tendency to prefer the quirkier end of things, and some of the first songs he tried to play on the guitar were those of Joe Brown: [Excerpt: Joe Brown, "I'm Henry VIII I Am"] Barrett grew up in Cambridge, and for those who don't know it, Cambridge is an incubator of a very particular kind of eccentricity. The university tends to attract rather unworldly intellectual overachievers to the city -- people who might not be able to survive in many other situations but who can thrive in that one -- and every description of Barrett's father suggests he was such a person -- Barrett's sister Rosemary has said that she believes that most of the family were autistic, though whether this is a belief based on popular media portrayals or a deeper understanding I don't know. But certainly Cambridge is full of eccentric people with remarkable achievements, and such people tend to have children with a certain type of personality, who try simultaneously to live up to and rebel against expectations of greatness that come from having parents who are regarded as great, and to do so with rather less awareness of social norms than the typical rebel has. In the case of Roger Barrett, he, like so many others of his generation, was encouraged to go into the sciences -- as indeed his father had, both in his career as a pathologist and in his avocation as a mycologist. The fifties and sixties were a time, much like today, when what we now refer to as the STEM subjects were regarded as new and exciting and modern. But rather than following in his father's professional footsteps, Roger Barrett instead followed his hobbies. Dr. Barrett was a painter and musician in his spare time, and Roger was to turn to those things to earn his living. For much of his teens, it seemed that art would be the direction he would go in. He was, everyone agrees, a hugely talented painter, and he was particularly noted for his mastery of colours. But he was also becoming more and more interested in R&B music, especially the music of Bo Diddley, who became his new biggest influence: [Excerpt: Bo Diddley, "Who Do You Love?"] He would often spend hours with his friend Dave Gilmour, a much more advanced guitarist, trying to learn blues riffs. By this point Barrett had already received the nickname "Syd". Depending on which story you believe, he either got it when he started attending a jazz club where an elderly jazzer named Sid Barrett played, and the people were amused that their youngest attendee, like one of the oldest, was called Barrett; or, more plausibly, he turned up to a Scout meeting once wearing a flat cap rather than the normal scout beret, and he got nicknamed "Sid" because it made him look working-class and "Sid" was a working-class sort of name. In 1962, by the time he was sixteen, Barrett joined a short-lived group called Geoff Mott and the Mottoes, on rhythm guitar. The group's lead singer, Geoff Mottlow, would go on to join a band called the Boston Crabs who would have a minor hit in 1965 with a version of the Coasters song "Down in Mexico": [Excerpt: The Boston Crabs, "Down in Mexico"] The bass player from the Mottoes, Tony Sainty, and the drummer Clive Welham, would go on to form another band, The Jokers Wild, with Barrett's friend Dave Gilmour. Barrett also briefly joined another band, Those Without, but his time with them was similarly brief. Some sources -- though ones I consider generally less reliable -- say that the Mottoes' bass player wasn't Tony Sainty, but was Roger Waters, the son of one of Barrett's teachers, and that one of the reasons the band split up was that Waters had moved down to London to study architecture. I don't think that's the case, but it's definitely true that Barrett knew Waters, and when he moved to London himself the next year to go to Camberwell Art College, he moved into a house where Waters was already living. Two previous tenants at the same house, Nick Mason and Richard Wright, had formed a loose band with Waters and various other amateur musicians like Keith Noble, Shelagh Noble, and Clive Metcalfe. That band was sometimes known as the Screaming Abdabs, The Megadeaths, or The Tea Set -- the latter as a sly reference to slang terms for cannabis -- but was mostly known at first as Sigma 6, named after a manifesto by the novelist Alexander Trocchi for a kind of spontaneous university. They were also sometimes known as Leonard's Lodgers, after the landlord of the home that Barrett was moving into, Mike Leonard, who would occasionally sit in on organ and would later, as the band became more of a coherent unit, act as a roadie and put on light shows behind them -- Leonard was himself very interested in avant-garde and experimental art, and it was his idea to play around with the group's lighting. By the time Barrett moved in with Waters in 1964, the group had settled on the Tea Set name, and consisted of Waters on bass, Mason on drums, Wright on keyboards, singer Chris Dennis, and guitarist Rado Klose. Of the group, Klose was the only one who was a skilled musician -- he was a very good jazz guitarist, while the other members were barely adequate. By this time Barrett's musical interests were expanding to include folk music -- his girlfriend at the time talked later about him taking her to see Bob Dylan on his first UK tour and thinking "My first reaction was seeing all these people like Syd. It was almost as if every town had sent one Syd Barrett there. It was my first time seeing people like him." But the music he was most into was the blues. And as the Tea Set were turning into a blues band, he joined them. He even had a name for the new band that would make them more bluesy. He'd read the back of a record cover which had named two extremely obscure blues musicians -- musicians he may never even have heard. Pink Anderson: [Excerpt: Pink Anderson, "Boll Weevil"] And Floyd Council: [Excerpt: Floyd Council, "Runaway Man Blues"] Barrett suggested that they put together the names of the two bluesmen, and presumably because "Anderson Council" didn't have quite the right ring, they went for The Pink Floyd -- though for a while yet they would sometimes still perform as The Tea Set, and they were sometimes also called The Pink Floyd Sound. Dennis left soon after Barrett joined, and the new five-piece Pink Floyd Sound started trying to get more gigs. They auditioned for Ready Steady Go! and were turned down, but did get some decent support slots, including for a band called the Tridents: [Excerpt: The Tridents, "Tiger in Your Tank"] The members of the group were particularly impressed by the Tridents' guitarist and the way he altered his sound using feedback -- Barrett even sent a letter to his girlfriend with a drawing of the guitarist, one Jeff Beck, raving about how good he was. At this point, the group were mostly performing cover versions, but they did have a handful of originals, and it was these they recorded in their first demo sessions in late 1964 and early 1965. They included "Walk With Me Sydney", a song written by Roger Waters as a parody of "Work With Me Annie" and "Dance With Me Henry" -- and, given the lyrics, possibly also Hank Ballard's follow-up "Henry's Got Flat Feet (Can't Dance No More) and featuring Rick Wright's then-wife Juliette Gale as Etta James to Barrett's Richard Berry: [Excerpt: The Tea Set, "Walk With Me Sydney"] And four songs by Barrett, including one called "Double-O Bo" which was a Bo Diddley rip-off, and "Butterfly", the most interesting of these early recordings: [Excerpt: The Tea Set, "Butterfly"] At this point, Barrett was very unsure of his own vocal abilities, and wrote a letter to his girlfriend saying "Emo says why don't I give up 'cos it sounds horrible, and I would but I can't get Fred to join because he's got a group (p'raps you knew!) so I still have to sing." "Fred" was a nickname for his old friend Dave Gilmour, who was playing in his own band, Joker's Wild, at this point. Summer 1965 saw two important events in the life of the group. The first was that Barrett took LSD for the first time. The rest of the group weren't interested in trying it, and would indeed generally be one of the more sober bands in the rock business, despite the reputation their music got. The other members would for the most part try acid once or twice, around late 1966, but generally steer clear of it. Barrett, by contrast, took it on a very regular basis, and it would influence all the work he did from that point on. The other event was that Rado Klose left the group. Klose was the only really proficient musician in the group, but he had very different tastes to the other members, preferring to play jazz to R&B and pop, and he was also falling behind in his university studies, and decided to put that ahead of remaining in the band. This meant that the group members had to radically rethink the way they were making music. They couldn't rely on instrumental proficiency, so they had to rely on ideas. One of the things they started to do was use echo. They got primitive echo devices and put both Barrett's guitar and Wright's keyboard through them, allowing them to create new sounds that hadn't been heard on stage before. But they were still mostly doing the same Slim Harpo and Bo Diddley numbers everyone else was doing, and weren't able to be particularly interesting while playing them. But for a while they carried on doing the normal gigs, like a birthday party they played in late 1965, where on the same bill was a young American folk singer named Paul Simon, and Joker's Wild, the band Dave Gilmour was in, who backed Simon on a version of "Johnny B. Goode". A couple of weeks after that party, Joker's Wild went into the studio to record their only privately-pressed five-song record, of them performing recent hits: [Excerpt: Joker's Wild, "Walk Like a Man"] But The Pink Floyd Sound weren't as musically tight as Joker's Wild, and they couldn't make a living as a cover band even if they wanted to. They had to do something different. Inspiration then came from a very unexpected source. I mentioned earlier that one of the names the group had been performing under had been inspired by a manifesto for a spontaneous university by the writer Alexander Trocchi. Trocchi's ideas had actually been put into practice by an organisation calling itself the London Free School, based in Notting Hill. The London Free School was an interesting mixture of people from what was then known as the New Left, but who were already rapidly aging, the people who had been the cornerstone of radical campaigning in the late fifties and early sixties, who had run the Aldermaston marches against nuclear weapons and so on, and a new breed of countercultural people who in a year or two would be defined as hippies but at the time were not so easy to pigeonhole. These people were mostly politically radical but very privileged people -- one of the founder members of the London Free School was Peter Jenner, who was the son of a vicar and the grandson of a Labour MP -- and they were trying to put their radical ideas into practice. The London Free School was meant to be a collective of people who would help each other and themselves, and who would educate each other. You'd go to the collective wanting to learn how to do something, whether that's how to improve the housing in your area or navigate some particularly difficult piece of bureaucracy, or how to play a musical instrument, and someone who had that skill would teach you how to do it, while you hopefully taught them something else of value. The London Free School, like all such utopian schemes, ended up falling apart, but it had a wider cultural impact than most such schemes. Britain's first underground newspaper, the International Times, was put together by people involved in the Free School, and the annual Notting Hill Carnival, which is now one of the biggest outdoor events in Britain every year with a million attendees, came from the merger of outdoor events organised by the Free School with older community events. A group of musicians called AMM was associated with many of the people involved in the Free School. AMM performed totally improvised music, with no structure and no normal sense of melody and harmony: [Excerpt: AMM, "What Is There In Uselesness To Cause You Distress?"] Keith Rowe, the guitarist in AMM, wanted to find his own technique uninfluenced by American jazz guitarists, and thought of that in terms that appealed very strongly to the painterly Barrett, saying "For the Americans to develop an American school of painting, they somehow had to ditch or lose European easel painting techniques. They had to make a break with the past. What did that possibly mean if you were a jazz guitar player? For me, symbolically, it was Pollock laying the canvas on the floor, which immediately abandons European easel technique. I could see that by laying the canvas down, it became inappropriate to apply easel techniques. I thought if I did that with a guitar, I would just lose all those techniques, because they would be physically impossible to do." Rowe's technique-free technique inspired Barrett to make similar noises with his guitar, and to think less in terms of melody and harmony than pure sound. AMM's first record came out in 1966. Four of the Free School people decided to put together their own record label, DNA, and they got an agreement with Elektra Records to distribute its first release -- Joe Boyd, the head of Elektra in the UK, was another London Free School member, and someone who had plenty of experience with disruptive art already, having been on the sound engineering team at the Newport Folk Festival when Dylan went electric. AMM went into the studio and recorded AMMMusic: [Excerpt: AMM, "What Is There In Uselesness To Cause You Distress?"] After that came out, though, Peter Jenner, one of the people who'd started the label, came to a realisation. He said later "We'd made this one record with AMM. Great record, very seminal, seriously avant-garde, but I'd started adding up and I'd worked out that the deal we had, we got two percent of retail, out of which we, the label, had to pay for recording costs and pay ourselves. I came to the conclusion that we were going to have to sell a hell of a lot of records just to pay the recording costs, let alone pay ourselves any money and build a label, so I realised we had to have a pop band because pop bands sold a lot of records. It was as simple as that and I was as naive as that." Jenner abandoned DNA records for the moment, and he and his friend Andrew King decided they were going to become pop managers. and they found The Pink Floyd Sound playing at an event at the Marquee, one of a series of events that were variously known as Spontaneous Underground and The Trip. Other participants in those events included Soft Machine; Mose Allison; Donovan, performing improvised songs backed by sitar players; Graham Bond; a performer who played Bach pieces while backed by African drummers; and The Poison Bellows, a poetry duo consisting of Spike Hawkins and Johnny Byrne, who may of all of these performers be the one who other than Pink Floyd themselves has had the most cultural impact in the UK -- after writing the exploitation novel Groupie and co-writing a film adaptation of Spike Milligan's war memoirs, Byrne became a TV screenwriter, writing many episodes of Space: 1999 and Doctor Who before creating the long-running TV series Heartbeat. Jenner and King decided they wanted to sign The Pink Floyd Sound and make records with them, and the group agreed -- but only after their summer holidays. They were all still students, and so they dispersed during the summer. Waters and Wright went on holiday to Greece, where they tried acid for the first of only a small number of occasions and were unimpressed, while Mason went on a trip round America by Greyhound bus. Barrett, meanwhile, stayed behind, and started writing more songs, encouraged by Jenner, who insisted that the band needed to stop relying on blues covers and come up with their own material, and who saw Barrett as the focus of the group. Jenner later described them as "Four not terribly competent musicians who managed between them to create something that was extraordinary. Syd was the main creative drive behind the band - he was the singer and lead guitarist. Roger couldn't tune his bass because he was tone deaf, it had to be tuned by Rick. Rick could write a bit of a tune and Roger could knock out a couple of words if necessary. 'Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun' was the first song Roger ever wrote, and he only did it because Syd encouraged everyone to write. Syd was very hesitant about his writing, but when he produced these great songs everyone else thought 'Well, it must be easy'" Of course, we know this isn't quite true -- Waters had written "Walk with me Sydney" -- but it is definitely the case that everyone involved thought of Barrett as the main creative force in the group, and that he was the one that Jenner was encouraging to write new material. After the summer holidays, the group reconvened, and one of their first actions was to play a benefit for the London Free School. Jenner said later "Andrew King and myself were both vicars' sons, and we knew that when you want to raise money for the parish you have to have a social. So in a very old-fashioned way we said 'let's put on a social'. Like in the Just William books, like a whist drive. We thought 'You can't have a whist drive. That's not cool. Let's have a band. That would be cool.' And the only band we knew was the band I was starting to get involved with." After a couple of these events went well, Joe Boyd suggested that they make those events a regular club night, and the UFO Club was born. Jenner and King started working on the light shows for the group, and then bringing in other people, and the light show became an integral part of the group's mystique -- rather than standing in a spotlight as other groups would, they worked in shadows, with distorted kaleidoscopic lights playing on them, distancing themselves from the audience. The highlight of their sets was a long piece called "Interstellar Overdrive", and this became one of the group's first professional recordings, when they went into the studio with Joe Boyd to record it for the soundtrack of a film titled Tonite Let's All Make Love in London. There are conflicting stories about the inspiration for the main riff for "Interstellar Overdrive". One apparent source is the riff from Love's version of the Bacharach and David song "My Little Red Book". Depending on who you ask, either Barrett was obsessed with Love's first album and copied the riff, or Peter Jenner tried to hum him the riff and Barrett copied what Jenner was humming: [Excerpt: Love, "My Little Red Book"] More prosaically, Roger Waters has always claimed that the main inspiration was from "Old Ned", Ron Grainer's theme tune for the sitcom Steptoe and Son (which for American listeners was remade over there as Sanford and Son): [Excerpt: Ron Grainer, "Old Ned"] Of course it's entirely possible, and even likely, that Barrett was inspired by both, and if so that would neatly sum up the whole range of Pink Floyd's influences at this point. "My Little Red Book" was a cover by an American garage-psych/folk-rock band of a hit by Manfred Mann, a group who were best known for pop singles but were also serious blues and jazz musicians, while Steptoe and Son was a whimsical but dark and very English sitcom about a way of life that was slowly disappearing. And you can definitely hear both influences in the main riff of the track they recorded with Boyd: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "Interstellar Overdrive"] "Interstellar Overdrive" was one of two types of song that The Pink Floyd were performing at this time -- a long, extended, instrumental psychedelic excuse for freaky sounds, inspired by things like the second disc of Freak Out! by the Mothers of Invention. When they went into the studio again with Boyd later in January 1967, to record what they hoped would be their first single, they recorded two of the other kind of songs -- whimsical story songs inspired equally by the incidents of everyday life and by children's literature. What became the B-side, "Candy and a Currant Bun", was based around the riff from "Smokestack Lightnin'" by Howlin' Wolf: [Excerpt: Howlin' Wolf, "Smokestack Lightnin'"] That song had become a favourite on the British blues scene, and was thus the inspiration for many songs of the type that get called "quintessentially English". Ray Davies, who was in many ways the major songwriter at this time who was closest to Barrett stylistically, would a year later use the riff for the Kinks song "Last of the Steam-Powered Trains", but in this case Barrett had originally written a song titled "Let's Roll Another One", about sexual longing and cannabis. The lyrics were hastily rewritten in the studio to remove the controversial drug references-- and supposedly this caused some conflict between Barrett and Waters, with Waters pushing for the change, while Barrett argued against it, though like many of the stories from this period this sounds like the kind of thing that gets said by people wanting to push particular images of both men. Either way, the lyric was changed to be about sweet treats rather than drugs, though the lascivious elements remained in. And some people even argue that there was another lyric change -- where Barrett sings "walk with me", there's a slight "f" sound in his vocal. As someone who does a lot of microphone work myself, it sounds to me like just one of those things that happens while recording, but a lot of people are very insistent that Barrett is deliberately singing a different word altogether: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "Candy and a Currant Bun"] The A-side, meanwhile, was inspired by real life. Both Barrett and Waters had mothers who used  to take in female lodgers, and both had regularly had their lodgers' underwear stolen from washing lines. While they didn't know anything else about the thief, he became in Barrett's imagination a man who liked to dress up in the clothing after he stole it: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "Arnold Layne"] After recording the two tracks with Joe Boyd, the natural assumption was that the record would be put out on Elektra, the label which Boyd worked for in the UK, but Jac Holzman, the head of Elektra records, wasn't interested, and so a bidding war began for the single, as by this point the group were the hottest thing in London. For a while it looked like they were going to sign to Track Records, the label owned by the Who's management, but in the end EMI won out. Right as they signed, the News of the World was doing a whole series of articles about pop stars and their drug use, and the last of the articles talked about The Pink Floyd and their association with LSD, even though they hadn't released a record yet. EMI had to put out a press release saying that the group were not psychedelic, insisting"The Pink Floyd are not trying to create hallucinatory effects in their audience." It was only after getting signed that the group became full-time professionals. Waters had by this point graduated from university and was working as a trainee architect, and quit his job to become a pop star. Wright dropped out of university, but Mason and Barrett took sabbaticals. Barrett in particular seems to have seen this very much as a temporary thing, talking about how he was making so much money it would be foolish not to take the opportunity while it lasted, but how he was going to resume his studies in a year. "Arnold Layne" made the top twenty, and it would have gone higher had the pirate radio station Radio London, at the time the single most popular radio station when it came to pop music, not banned the track because of its sexual content. However, it would be the only single Joe Boyd would work on with the group. EMI insisted on only using in-house producers, and so while Joe Boyd would go on to a great career as a producer, and we'll see him again, he was replaced with Norman Smith. Smith had been the chief engineer on the Beatles records up to Rubber Soul, after which he'd been promoted to being a producer in his own right, and Geoff Emerick had taken over. He also had aspirations to pop stardom himself, and a few years later would have a transatlantic hit with "Oh Babe, What Would You Say?" under the name Hurricane Smith: [Excerpt: Hurricane Smith, "Oh Babe, What Would You Say?"] Smith's production of the group would prove controversial among some of the group's longtime fans, who thought that he did too much to curtail their more experimental side, as he would try to get the group to record songs that were more structured and more commercial, and would cut down their improvisations into a more manageable form. Others, notably Peter Jenner, thought that Smith was the perfect producer for the group. They started work on their first album, which was mostly recorded in studio three of Abbey Road, while the Beatles were just finishing off work on Sgt Pepper in studio two. The album was titled The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, after the chapter from The Wind in the Willows, and other than a few extended instrumental showcases, most of the album was made up of short, whimsical, songs by Barrett that were strongly infused with imagery from late-Victorian and Edwardian children's books. This is one of the big differences between the British and American psychedelic scenes. Both the British and American undergrounds were made up of the same type of people -- a mixture of older radical activists, often Communists, who had come up in Britain in the Ban the Bomb campaigns and in America in the Civil Rights movement; and younger people, usually middle-class students with radical politics from a privileged background, who were into experimenting with drugs and alternative lifestyles. But the  social situations were different. In America, the younger members of the underground were angry and scared, as their principal interest was in stopping the war in Vietnam in which so many of them were being killed. And the music of the older generation of the underground, the Civil Rights activists, was shot through with influence from the blues, gospel, and American folk music, with a strong Black influence. So that's what the American psychedelic groups played, for the most part, very bluesy, very angry, music, By contrast, the British younger generation of hippies were not being drafted to go to war, and mostly had little to complain about, other than a feeling of being stifled by their parents' generation's expectations. And while most of them were influenced by the blues, that wasn't the music that had been popular among the older underground people, who had either been listening to experimental European art music or had been influenced by Ewan MacColl and his associates into listening instead to traditional old English ballads, things like the story of Tam Lin or Thomas the Rhymer, where someone is spirited away to the land of the fairies: [Excerpt: Ewan MacColl, "Thomas the Rhymer"] As a result, most British musicians, when exposed to the culture of the underground over here, created music that looked back to an idealised childhood of their grandparents' generation, songs that were nostalgic for a past just before the one they could remember (as opposed to their own childhoods, which had taken place in war or the immediate aftermath of it, dominated by poverty, rationing, and bomb sites (though of course Barrett's childhood in Cambridge had been far closer to this mythic idyll than those of his contemporaries from Liverpool, Birmingham, Newcastle, or London). So almost every British musician who was making music that might be called psychedelic was writing songs that were influenced both by experimental art music and by pre-War popular song, and which conjured up images from older children's books. Most notably of course at this point the Beatles were recording songs like "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" about places from their childhood, and taking lyrical inspiration from Victorian circus posters and the works of Lewis Carroll, but Barrett was similarly inspired. One of the books he loved most as a child was "The Little Grey Men" by BB, a penname for Denys Watkins-Pitchford. The book told the story of three gnomes,  Baldmoney, Sneezewort, and Dodder, and their adventures on a boat when the fourth member of their little group, Cloudberry, who's a bit of a rebellious loner and more adventurous than the other three, goes exploring on his own and they have to go off and find him. Barrett's song "The Gnome" doesn't use any precise details from the book, but its combination of whimsy about a gnome named Grimble-gromble and a reverence for nature is very much in the mould of BB's work: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "The Gnome"] Another huge influence on Barrett was Hillaire Belloc. Belloc is someone who is not read much any more, as sadly he is mostly known for the intense antisemitism in some of his writing, which stains it just as so much of early twentieth-century literature is stained, but he was one of the most influential writers of the early part of the twentieth century. Like his friend GK Chesterton he was simultaneously an author of Catholic apologia and a political campaigner -- he was a Liberal MP for a few years, and a strong advocate of an economic system known as Distributism, and had a peculiar mixture of very progressive and extremely reactionary ideas which resonated with a lot of the atmosphere in the British underground of the time, even though he would likely have profoundly disapproved of them. But Belloc wrote in a variety of styles, including poems for children, which are the works of his that have aged the best, and were a huge influence on later children's writers like Roald Dahl with their gleeful comic cruelty. Barrett's "Matilda Mother" had lyrics that were, other than the chorus where Barrett begs his mother to read him more of the story, taken verbatim from three poems from Belloc's Cautionary Tales for Children -- "Jim, Who Ran away from his Nurse, and was Eaten by a Lion", "Henry King (Who chewed bits of String, and was cut off in Dreadful Agonies)", and "Matilda (Who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death)" -- the titles of those give some idea of the kind of thing Belloc would write: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "Matilda Mother (early version)"] Sadly for Barrett, Belloc's estate refused to allow permission for his poems to be used, and so he had to rework the lyrics, writing new fairy-tale lyrics for the finished version. Other sources of inspiration for lyrics came from books like the I Ching, which Barrett used for "Chapter 24", having bought a copy from the Indica Bookshop, the same place that John Lennon had bought The Psychedelic Experience, and there's been some suggestion that he was deliberately trying to copy Lennon in taking lyrical ideas from a book of ancient mystic wisdom. During the recording of Piper at the Gates of Dawn, the group continued playing live. As they'd now had a hit single, most of their performances were at Top Rank Ballrooms and other such venues around the country, on bills with other top chart groups, playing to audiences who seemed unimpressed or actively hostile. They also, though made two important appearances. The more well-known of these was at the 14-Hour Technicolor Dream, a benefit for International Times magazine with people including Yoko Ono, their future collaborator Ron Geesin, John's Children, Soft Machine, and The Move also performing. The 14-Hour Technicolor Dream is now largely regarded as *the* pivotal moment in the development of the UK counterculture, though even at the time some participants noted that there seemed to be a rift developing between the performers, who were often fairly straightforward beer-drinking ambitious young men who had latched on to kaftans and talk about enlightenment as the latest gimmick they could use to get ahead in the industry, and the audience who seemed to be true believers. Their other major performance was at an event called "Games for May -- Space Age Relaxation for the Climax of Spring", where they were able to do a full long set in a concert space with a quadrophonic sound system, rather than performing in the utterly sub-par environments most pop bands had to at this point. They came up with a new song written for the event, which became their second single, "See Emily Play". [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "See Emily Play"] Emily was apparently always a favourite name of Barrett's, and he even talked with one girlfriend about the possibility of naming their first child Emily, but the Emily of the song seems to have had a specific inspiration. One of the youngest attendees at the London Free School was an actual schoolgirl, Emily Young, who would go along to their events with her schoolfriend Anjelica Huston (who later became a well-known film star). Young is now a world-renowned artist, regarded as arguably Britain's greatest living stone sculptor, but at the time she was very like the other people at the London Free School -- she was from a very privileged background, her father was Wayland Young, 2nd Baron Kennet, a Labour Peer and minister who later joined the SDP. But being younger than the rest of the attendees, and still a little naive, she was still trying to find her own personality, and would take on attributes and attitudes of other people without fully understanding them,  hence the song's opening lines, "Emily tries, but misunderstands/She's often inclined to borrow somebody's dream til tomorrow". The song gets a little darker towards the end though, and the image in the last verse, where she puts on a gown and floats down a river forever *could* be a gentle, pastoral, image of someone going on a boat ride, but it also could be a reference to two rather darker sources. Barrett was known to pick up imagery both from classic literature and from Arthurian legend, and so the lines inevitably conjure up both the idea of Ophelia drowning herself and of the Lady of Shallot in Tennyson's Arthurian poem, who is trapped in a tower but finds a boat, and floats down the river to Camelot but dies before the boat reaches the castle: [Excerpt: The Pink Floyd, "See Emily Play"] The song also evokes very specific memories of Barrett's childhood -- according to Roger Waters, the woods mentioned in the lyrics are meant to be woods in which they had played as children, on the road out of Cambridge towards the Gog and Magog Hills. The song was apparently seven minutes long in its earliest versions, and required a great deal of editing to get down to single length, but it was worth it, as the track made the top ten. And that was where the problems started. There are two different stories told about what happened to Roger Barrett over the next forty years, and both stories are told by people with particular agendas, who want particular versions of him to become the accepted truth. Both stories are, in the extreme versions that have been popularised, utterly incompatible with each other, but both are fairly compatible with the scanty evidence we have. Possibly the truth lies somewhere between them. In one version of the story, around this time Barrett had a total mental breakdown, brought on or exacerbated by his overuse of LSD and Mandrax (a prescription drug consisting of a mixture of the antihistamine diphenhydramine and the sedative methaqualone, which was marketed in the US under the brand-name Quaalude), and that from late summer 1967 on he was unable to lead a normal life, and spent the rest of his life as a burned-out shell. The other version of the story is that Barrett was a little fragile, and did have periods of mental illness, but for the most part was able to function fairly well. In this version of the story, he was neurodivergent, and found celebrity distressing, but more than that he found the whole process of working within commercial restrictions upsetting -- having to appear on TV pop shows and go on package tours was just not something he found himself able to do, but he was responsible for a whole apparatus of people who relied on him and his group for their living. In this telling, he was surrounded by parasites who looked on him as their combination meal-ticket-cum-guru, and was simply not suited for the role and wanted to sabotage it so he could have a private life instead. Either way, *something* seems to have changed in Barrett in a profound way in the early summer of 1967. Joe Boyd talks about meeting him after not having seen him for a few weeks, and all the light being gone from his eyes. The group appeared on Top of the Pops, Britain's top pop TV show, three times to promote "See Emily Play", but by the third time Barrett didn't even pretend to mime along with the single. Towards the end of July, they were meant to record a session for the BBC's Saturday Club radio show, but Barrett walked out of the studio before completing the first song. It's notable that Barrett's non-cooperation or inability to function was very much dependent on circumstance. He was not able to perform for Saturday Club, a mainstream pop show aimed at a mass audience, but gave perfectly good performances on several sessions for John Peel's radio show The Perfumed Garden, a show firmly aimed at Pink Floyd's own underground niche. On the thirty-first of July, three days after the Saturday Club walkout, all the group's performances for the next month were cancelled, due to "nervous exhaustion". But on the eighth of August, they went back into the studio, to record "Scream Thy Last Scream", a song Barrett wrote and which Nick Mason sang: [Excerpt: Pink Floyd, "Scream Thy Last Scream"] That was scheduled as the group's next single, but the record company vetoed it, and it wouldn't see an official release for forty-nine years. Instead they recorded another single, "Apples and Oranges": [Excerpt: Pink Floyd, "Apples and Oranges"] That was the last thing the group released while Barrett was a member. In November 1967 they went on a tour of the US, making appearances on American Bandstand and the Pat Boone Show, as well as playing several gigs. According to legend, Barrett was almost catatonic on the Pat Boone show, though no footage of that appears to be available anywhere -- and the same things were said about their performance on Bandstand, and when that turned up, it turned out Barrett seemed no more uncomfortable miming to their new single than any of the rest of the band, and was no less polite when Dick Clark asked them questions about hamburgers. But on shows on the US tour, Barrett would do things like detune his guitar so it just made clanging sounds, or just play a single note throughout the show. These are, again, things that could be taken in two different ways, and I have no way to judge which is the more correct. On one level, they could be a sign of a chaotic, disordered, mind, someone dealing with severe mental health difficulties. On the other, they're the kind of thing that Barrett was applauded and praised for in the confines of the kind of avant-garde underground audience that would pay to hear AMM or Yoko Ono, the kind of people they'd been performing for less than a year earlier, but which were absolutely not appropriate for a pop group trying to promote their latest hit single. It could be that Barrett was severely unwell, or it could just be that he wanted to be an experimental artist and his bandmates wanted to be pop stars -- and one thing absolutely everyone agrees is that the rest of the group were more ambitious than Barrett was. Whichever was the case, though, something had to give. They cut the US tour short, but immediately started another British package tour, with the Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Move, Amen Corner and the Nice. After that tour they started work on their next album, A Saucerful of Secrets. Where Barrett was the lead singer and principal songwriter on Piper at the Gates of Dawn, he only sings and writes one song on A Saucerful of Secrets, which is otherwise written by Waters and Wright, and only appears at all on two more of the tracks -- by the time it was released he was out of the group. The last song he tried to get the group to record was called "Have You Got it Yet?" and it was only after spending some time rehearsing it that the rest of the band realised that the song was a practical joke on them -- every time they played it, he would change the song around so they would mess up, and pretend they just hadn't learned the song yet. They brought in Barrett's old friend Dave Gilmour, initially to be a fifth member on stage to give the band some stability in their performances, but after five shows with the five-man lineup they decided just not to bother picking Barrett up, but didn't mention he was out of the group, to avoid awkwardness. At the time, Barrett and Rick Wright were flatmates, and Wright would actually lie to Barrett and say he was just going out to buy a packet of cigarettes, and then go and play gigs without him. After a couple of months of this, it was officially announced that Barrett was leaving the group. Jenner and King went with him, convinced that he was the real talent in the group and would have a solo career, and the group carried on with new management. We'll be looking at them more in future episodes. Barrett made a start at recording a solo album in mid-1968, but didn't get very far. Jenner produced those sessions, and later said "It seemed a good idea to go into the studio because I knew he had the songs. And he would sometimes play bits and pieces and you would think 'Oh that's great.' It was a 'he's got a bit of a cold today and it might get better' approach. It wasn't a cold -- and you knew it wasn't a cold -- but I kept thinking if he did the right things he'd come back to join us. He'd gone out and maybe he'd come back. That was always the analogy in my head. I wanted to make it feel friendly for him, and that where we were was a comfortable place and that he could come back and find himself again. I obviously didn't succeed." A handful of tracks from those sessions have since been released, including a version of “Golden Hair”, a setting by Barrett of a poem by James Joyce that he would later revisit: [Excerpt: Syd Barrett, “Golden Hair (first version)”] Eleven months later, he went back into the studio again, this time with producer Malcolm Jones, to record an album that later became The Madcap Laughs, his first solo album. The recording process for the album has been the source of some controversy, as initially Jones was producing the whole album, and they were working in a way that Barrett never worked before. Where previously he had cut backing tracks first and only later overdubbed his vocals, this time he started by recording acoustic guitar and vocals, and then overdubbed on top of that. But after several sessions, Jones was pulled off the album, and Gilmour and Waters were asked to produce the rest of the sessions. This may seem a bit of a callous decision, since Gilmour was the person who had replaced Barrett in his group, but apparently the two of them had remained friends, and indeed Gilmour thought that Barrett had only got better as a songwriter since leaving the band. Where Malcolm Jones had been trying, by his account, to put out something that sounded like a serious, professional, record, Gilmour and Waters seemed to regard what they were doing more as producing a piece of audio verite documentary, including false starts and studio chatter. Jones believed that this put Barrett in a bad light, saying the outtakes "show Syd, at best as out of tune, which he rarely was, and at worst as out of control (which, again, he never was)." Gilmour and Waters, on the other hand, thought that material was necessary to provide some context for why the album wasn't as slick and professional as some might have hoped. The eventual record was a hodge-podge of different styles from different sessions, with bits from the Jenner sessions, the Jones sessions, and the Waters and Gilmour sessions all mixed together, with some tracks just Barrett badly double-tracking himself with an acoustic guitar, while other tracks feature full backing by Soft Machine. However, despite Jones' accusations that the album was more-or-less sabotaged by Gilmour and Waters, the fact remains that the best tracks on the album are the ones Barrett's former bandmates produced, and there are some magnificent moments on there. But it's a disturbing album to listen to, in the same way other albums by people with clear talent but clear mental illness are, like Skip Spence's Oar, Roky Erickson's later work, or the Beach Boys Love You. In each case, the pleasure one gets is a real pleasure from real aesthetic appreciation of the work, but entangled with an awareness that the work would not exist in that form were the creator not suffering. The pleasure doesn't come from the suffering -- these are real artists creating real art, not the kind of outsider art that is really just a modern-day freak-show -- but it's still inextricable from it: [Excerpt: Syd Barrett, "Dark Globe"] The Madcap Laughs did well enough that Barrett got to record a follow-up, titled simply Barrett. This one was recorded over a period of only a handful of months, with Gilmour and Rick Wright producing, and a band consisting of Gilmour, Wright, and drummer Jerry Shirley. The album is generally considered both more consistent and less interesting than The Madcap Laughs, with less really interesting material, though there are some enjoyable moments on it: [Excerpt: Syd Barrett, "Effervescing Elephant"] But the album is a little aimless, and people who knew him at the time seem agreed that that was a reflection of his life. He had nothing he *needed* to be doing -- no  tour dates, no deadlines, no pressure at all, and he had a bit of money from record royalties -- so he just did nothing at all. The one solo gig he ever played, with the band who backed him on Barrett, lasted four songs, and he walked off half-way through the fourth. He moved back to Cambridge for a while in the early seventies, and he tried putting together a new band with Twink, the drummer of the Pink Fairies and Pretty Things, Fred Frith, and Jack Monck, but Frith left after one gig. The other three performed a handful of shows either as "Stars" or as "Barrett, Adler, and Monck", just in the Cambridge area, but soon Barrett got bored again. He moved back to London, and in 1974 he made one final attempt to make a record, going into the studio with Peter Jenner, where he recorded a handful of tracks that were never released. But given that the titles of those tracks were things like "Boogie #1", "Boogie #2", "Slow Boogie", "Fast Boogie", "Chooka-Chooka Chug Chug" and "John Lee Hooker", I suspect we're not missing out on a lost masterpiece. Around this time there was a general resurgence in interest in Barrett, prompted by David Bowie having recorded a version of "See Emily Play" on his covers album Pin-Ups, which came out in late 1973: [Excerpt: David Bowie, "See Emily Play"] At the same time, the journalist Nick Kent wrote a long profile of Barrett, The Cracked Ballad of Syd Barrett, which like Kent's piece on Brian Wilson a year later, managed to be a remarkable piece of writing with a sense of sympathy for its subject and understanding of his music, but also a less-than-accurate piece of journalism which led to a lot of myths and disinformation being propagated. Barrett briefly visited his old bandmates in the studio in 1975 while they were recording the album Wish You Were Here -- some say even during the recording of the song "Shine On, You Crazy Diamond", which was written specifically about Barrett, though Nick Mason claims otherwise -- and they didn't recognise him at first, because by this point he had a shaved head and had put on a great deal of weight. He seemed rather sad, and that was the last time any of them saw him, apart from Roger Waters, who saw him in Harrod's a few years later. That time, as soon as Barrett recognised Waters, he dropped his bag and ran out of the shop. For the next thirty-one years, Barrett made no public appearances. The last time he ever voluntarily spoke to a journalist, other than telling them to go away, was in 1982, just after he'd moved back to Cambridge, when someone doorstopped him and he answered a few questions and posed for a photo before saying "OK! That's enough, this is distressing for me, thank you." He had the reputation for the rest of his life of being a shut-in, a recluse, an acid casualty. His family, on the other hand, have always claimed that while he was never particularly mentally or physically healthy, he wasn't a shut-in, and would go to the pub, meet up with his mother a couple of times a week to go shopping, and chat to the women behind the counter at Sainsbury's and at the pharmacy. He was also apparently very good with children who lived in the neighbourhood. Whatever the truth of his final decades, though, however mentally well or unwell he actually was, one thing is very clear, which is that he was an extremely private man, who did not want attention, and who was greatly distressed by the constant stream of people coming and looking through his letterbox, trying to take photos of him, trying to interview him, and so on. Everyone on his street knew that when people came asking which was Syd Barrett's house, they were meant to say that no-one of that name lived there -- and they were telling the truth. By the time he moved back, he had stopped answering to "Syd" altogether, and according to his sister "He came to hate the name latterly, and what it meant." He did, in 2001, go round to his sister's house to watch a documentary about himself on the TV -- he didn't own a TV himself -- but he didn't enjoy it and his only comment was that the music was too noisy. By this point he never listened to rock music, just to jazz and classical music, usually on the radio. He was financially secure -- Dave Gilmour made sure that when compilations came out they always included some music from Barrett's period in the group so he would receive royalties, even though Gilmour had no contact with him after 1975 -- and he spent most of his time painting -- he would take photos of the paintings when they were completed, and then burn the originals. There are many stories about those last few decades, but given how much he valued his privacy, it wouldn't be right to share them. This is a history of rock music, and 1975 was the last time Roger Keith Barrett ever had anything to do with rock music voluntarily. He died of cancer in 2006, and at his funeral there was a reading from The Little Grey Men, which was also quoted in the Order of Service -- "The wonder of the world, the beauty and the power, the shapes of things, their colours lights and shades; these I saw. Look ye also while life lasts.” There was no rock music played at Barrett's funeral -- instead there were a selection of pieces by Handel, Haydn, and Bach, ending with Bach's Allemande from the Partita No. IV in D major, one of his favourite pieces: [Excerpt: Glenn Gould, "Allemande from the Partita No. IV in D major"]  As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before. Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him in a puzzled sort of way. “I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?” he asked. “I think I was only remarking,” said Rat slowly, “that this was the right sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. And look! Why, there he is, the little fellow!” And with a cry of delight he ran towards the slumbering Portly. But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty! Till that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memory for a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.

Her tenure dates back to the earliest days of the Circle Bar. In fact, she likes to say that she came with the building. The former tennis pro and dentist-turned-bartender encountered everyone from Lee Circle winos and touring hipsters to counterculture royalty like Keith Richards and Hunter Thompson. After her time in Austin hanging out with Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bill Hicks, and Sam Kinison and her years as den mother for the circular clubhouse for wayward adults, Caroline is well acquainted with barfly foolishness. It’s just like old times as Caroline joins the Troubled Men. Topics include a hiatus, celebrity spectators, a mayoral recall, Noonie Man, juvenile crime solutions, failing school zones, the Mission District, 2 dominatrices and a priest, Austin in the 1970s, common interests, an Antone’s jam session, Rank & File, a moveable feast, special catering, babysitting Roky Erickson, the Fleur de Lis restaurant, Ben Ellman, a Hank Williams III gig, Kelly Keller, absinthe parties, Jim “the Hound” Marshall, heavy pours, celebrity bartenders, Andre Williams, a close call, Michael Ward’s nighttime circuit, Mike Hurtt, barkeep discretion, and much more. Intro music: "Just Keeps Raining" by Styler/Coman Break Music: "The Analyst" from "Loose Strings" by Carlo Nuccio Outro music: "Sensible Shoes" from "Little Houses in Space" by the Geraniums Support the podcast: Paypal or Venmo Join the Patreon page here. Shop for Troubled Men’s Shirts here. Subscribe, review, and rate (5 stars) on Apple Podcasts or any podcast source. Follow on social media, share with friends, and spread the Troubled Word. Troubled Men Podcast Facebook Troubled Men Podcast Instagram Iguanas Tour Dates René Coman Facebook Caroline Valencia Facebook

We had the pleasure of interviewing The Black Angels over Zoom video.Austin's psych-rock legends will release their brand new album Wilderness of Mirrors on September 16 with Partisan Records. Today, the band has revealed experimental single “Firefly”, a ‘60s French pop homage which features the sultry intonations in both French and English from Thievery Corporation's LouLou Ghelichkani. The new song follows acclaimed lead single/video “El Jardín'' which features Austin Amelio from The Walking Dead and stars his son Lev.The most impactful music reflects a wide-screen view of the world back at us, helping distill the universal into something far more relatable. The Black Angels have become standard-bearers for modern psych-rock that does exactly that, which is one of many reasons why the group's new album feels so aptly named. It has been 5 years since fans have been treated to an album from the band and Wilderness of Mirrors marks a triumphant return with their foot on the pedal. The new collection expertly refines the Black Angels' psychedelic rock attack alongside a host of intriguing sounds and textures while political tumult, the pandemic, and the ongoing devastation of the environment have provided ample fodder for their signature sound and fierce lyrical commentary. Since forming in 2004 in Austin, TX, the Black Angels remain masterfully true to psych-rock forebears such as Syd Barrett, Roky Erickson, Arthur Lee and the members of the Velvet Underground, all of whom are namechecked on “The River.” The band's global influence is solidified by their beloved, long-running Levitation Festival, the veritable ground zero for the genre's past, present and future -- celebrating its 15th anniversary this year. We want to hear from you! Please email Tera@BringinitBackwards.com. www.BringinitBackwards.com #podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #TheBlackAngels #WildernessofMirrors #NewMusic #zoom Listen & Subscribe to BiB https://www.bringinitbackwards.com/follow/ Follow our podcast on Instagram and Twitter! https://www.facebook.com/groups/bringinbackpod

Rockshow Episode 162 Roky Erickson Roger Kynard "Roky" Erickson (July 15, 1947 – May 31, 2019) was an American musician and singer-songwriter. He was a founding member and the leader of the 13th Floor Elevators and a pioneer of the psychedelic rock genre. Erickson was interested in music from his youth, playing piano from age five and taking up guitar at 10. He attended school in Austin and dropped out of Travis High School in 1965, one month before graduating, rather than cut his hair to conform to the school dress code.Erickson wrote his first songs, "You're Gonna Miss Me" and "We Sell Soul", at age 15, and started a band with neighborhood friends which would evolve into his first notable group, the Spades.The Spades scored a regional hit with "We Sell Soul"; the song is included as an unlisted bonus track on Erickson's 1995 album All That May Do My Rhyme and was adapted as "Don't Fall Down" by the 13th Floor Elevators for their debut album. The Spades' original version of "You're Gonna Miss Me", later a hit for the 13th Floor Elevators, was featured on the compilation album The Best of Pebbles Volume 1. https://www.rokyerickson.com/ https://www.newyorker.com/culture/postscript/the-pure-weirdness-of-the-psychedelic-rock-icon-roky-erickson/amp https://open.spotify.com/artist/7hCsRnXtcbez8msLPfjbkz https://m.facebook.com/rokyericksonTM/ https://m.imdb.com/name/nm2227718/ https://mobile.twitter.com/rokyericksontm #musicvideo #musicstudio #musiclover #musiclife #musicindustry #musiclovers #musiccover #musician#Alicecooper #musicproducer #musicproduction #musicians #musicislife #musicartist #musicphotography #musicvideos #Music #drummer #Guitar @drummers @spotify @twitter #grammy @grammy @psychedelic rock #psychedelic rock @Roky Erickson #Roky Erickson #goldalbum #Platinumalbum @Platinum @gold Please follow us on Youtube,Facebook,Instagram,Twitter,Patreon and at www.gettinglumpedup.com https://linktr.ee/RobRossi Get your T-shirt at https://www.prowrestlingtees.com/gettinglumpedup And https://www.bonfire.com/store/getting-lumped-up/ https://app.hashtag.expert/?fpr=roberto-rossi80 https://dc2bfnt-peyeewd4slt50d2x1b.hop.clickbank.net Subscribe to the channel and hit the like button This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/rob-rossi/support https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/getting-lumped-up-with-rob-rossi/id1448899708 https://open.spotify.com/show/00ZWLZaYqQlJji1QSoEz7a https://www.patreon.com/Gettinglumpedup --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/rob-rossi/support

"The Man In The Van" himself, Mike Watt (Minutemen, fIREHOSE, The Stooges) joins us for another BONUS "Mixtape Episode", where we invite a special guest to curate a mixtape for our listeners and dig into their musical selections. He did NOT disappoint! Mike's mixtape: 1. Blank Generation - Richard Hell & The Voidoids 2. She's As Beautiful As A Foot - Blue Oyster Cult 3. Another Coke - Alternative Television 4. Dice Man - The Fall 5. Mine Mine Mind - Roky Erickson 6. Up Around The Bend - Creedence Clearwater Revival 7. Forces Of Oppression - The Pop Group 8. Dot Dash - Wire 9. Richie Dagger's Crime - The Germs 10. You're Not Blank (So Baby We're Through) - The Dils 11. (Afraid of Being) Bled by Leeches - Lemon Kittens 12. Jump Into The Fire - Harry Nilsson *Other songs featured in this episode: Take 5, D. - Minutemen; Arrow-Pierced-Egg-Man - Mike Watt; 1969 (live, 2007) - The Stooges; Bad Brain - The Ramones; The Girl Can't Help It - Little Richard; The Big Stick - Minutemen; Frownland - Captain Beefheart; All My Senses - VS (Mark Stewart, Mike Watt, KK Null; Ghost Rider - Suicide; Dr. Wu - Minutemen

This episode is part of Pledge Week 2022. Every day this week, I'll be posting old Patreon bonus episodes of the podcast which will have this short intro. These are short, ten- to twenty-minute bonus podcasts which get posted to Patreon for my paying backers every time I post a new main episode -- there are well over a hundred of these in the archive now. If you like the sound of these episodes, then go to patreon.com/andrewhickey and subscribe for as little as a dollar a month or ten dollars a year to get access to all those bonus episodes, plus new ones as they appear. Click below for the transcript Transcript Just a note before I begin, this episode deals with mental illness and with the methods, close to torture, used to treat it in the middle of the last century, so anyone for whom that's a delicate subject may want to skip this one. There's a term that often gets used about some musicians, "outsider music", and it's a term that I'm somewhat uncomfortable with. It's a term that gets applied to anyone eccentric, whether someone like Jandek who releases his own albums through mail order and just does his own thing, or someone like Hasil Adkins who made wild rockabilly music, or an entertainer like Tiny Tim who had a bizarre but consistent view of showbusiness, or a band like the Shaggs who were just plain incompetent, or people like Wesley Willis or Wild Man Fischer who had serious mental health problems. The problem with the term is that it erases these differences, and that it assumes that the most interesting thing about the music is the person behind it. It also erases talent, especially in the case of mentally ill artists. There are several mutually incompatible assumptions about creative artists who have mental health problems. One is that their music should be treated like a freak show, and either appreciated for that reason (if you're someone who gets their entertainment from someone else's suffering) or disdained (if you don't want to do that). Other people think that the mental illness *makes* the music, that great art comes from mental health problems, while yet others will argue that someone's art has nothing at all to do with their mental health, and is not influenced by it in any way. All of these positions are, of course, wrong. Mental illness doesn't stop someone from making great art -- except when it takes away the ability to make art at all of course -- people like Brian Wilson or Vincent Van Gogh are testament to that, and their best work has nothing to do with a freak show. But nor does it grant the ability to make great art. Someone with no musical talent who develops schizophrenia just becomes a schizophrenic person with no musical talent. But to say that mental illness doesn't affect the work is also nonsense. Everything about someone's life affects their art, especially something as important as their mental health. And the real problem with these labels comes with those artists who don't manage to develop a substantial body of work before their illness sets in. Those with real musical talent, but who end up getting put in the outsider artist bucket because their work is so obviously affected by their illness. And one of those is Roky Erickson, of the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. Erickson started his career aged fifteen with a group based in Austin, Texas, called the Spades -- and I hope that this wasn't intended as a racial slur, as the word was sometimes used at this time. Their first single, "We Sell Soul", released in 1965, shows the clear influence of "Gloria" by Them: [Excerpt: The Spades, "We Sell Soul"] That was a regional hit, and so their second single, the first song that Erickson had ever written, was recorded in the same style: [Excerpt: The Spades, "You're Gonna Miss Me"] But by December 1965, Erickson had left the Spades, and joined Stacy Sutherland, Benny Thurman, and John Ike Walton, the members of another band called the Lingsmen. They were joined by a fifth man, Tommy Hall, who became the band's lyricist, liner-note writer, and general spokesman, and who played an electric jug, creating an effect somewhere between bubbling and a wobble board. Hall started calling the group's music "psychedelic rock" in late 1965 after being influenced by Timothy Leary, and I've seen some people say he was the first person ever to use the term. The group released a rerecorded version of "You're Gonna Miss Me" on a small local label: [Excerpt: The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, "You're Gonna Miss Me"] That was released in January 1966, and later picked up by a larger label, International Artists, which was the home of a lot of Texan psychedelic bands, like the Golden Dawn and the Red Crayola. It spent most of the year slowly climbing the charts, eventually reaching number fifty-five -- the highest chart position the group would ever have. It was included on their debut album, The Psychedelic Sounds of the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, released towards the end of the year, by which time Thurman had been replaced by Ronnie Leatherman on bass. The album's liner notes were written by Hall and had a large amount of advocacy for the use of psychedelic drugs -- as did the music itself, though some of this was a little more subtle, like the song "Fire Engine", where the line "let me take you to the empty place" was meant to sound like "DMT place", DMT being a psychedelic drug: [Excerpt: The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, "Fire Engine"] Around this time, the band crossed paths with Janis Joplin, who was a big fan of the group and who they tried to get to join them, but Joplin decided to move to California instead. Tommy Hall was a huge advocate for both the potential of LSD to open people's minds, and of the general semantics of Alfred Korzybski, and his enthusiasm for both showed up on the group's second album. Unfortunately, not all of the group were of quite the same mind, and Leatherman and Walton left early in the sessions for that album, Easter Everywhere, which was considered not quite up to the standards of the previous album, though Erickson and Hall's eight-minute long "Slip Inside This House" is a favourite of most of the fans. [Excerpt: The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, "Slip Inside This House"] Unfortunately, the band started to disintegrate. The core of Erickson, Hall, and Sutherland remained together, but various bass players and drummers came and went -- though one of the band's rhythm sections, Duke Davis and Danny Thomas, was good enough that the band's label got them to back Lightnin' Hopkins on his album Free Form Patterns. According to reports I've read, Davis and Thomas were both on acid during the session, but they still play solidly throughout: [Excerpt: Lightnin' Hopkins, "Give Me Time to Think"] Another potential bass player at this point was a roommate of Erickson's, who Erickson tried to get into the band but who Hall turned down. Townes Van Zandt later went on to rather bigger things. Erickson also started to have some mental problems -- apparently taking LSD literally every day for years is not great for you. And when he was arrested for marijuana possession, he decided to use his mental health as a way to get out of a potential ten-year jail sentence, by getting three years in a psychiatric hospital instead. He later claimed that he was lying about his problems and acting mad to get this sentence, but he had been having problems before then. Hall and Sutherland and their current rhythm section finished up a few demos, and the record label put out one final album made up of outtakes, plus a faked live album with crowd noise overdubbed on some earlier studio recordings, but with their lead singer in hospital for three years the band split up. Hall became a Scientologist and quit the music industry altogether. If Erickson *was* faking his illness when he went into the hospital, he wasn't faking it by the time he came out. Psychiatric medicine was still in its infancy then. It's far from wonderful today, but at least in general you can be relatively sure that the treatment won't make you worse. That wasn't the case in the late sixties and early seventies, and Erickson was forced through multiple sessions of electro-shock therapy. (To be clear, electro-shock therapy can sometimes be effective for some conditions when done properly and with the patient's consent. This wasn't either.) When Erickson finally got out, he tried to put his life back together, and formed a new band called Bleib Alien, later renamed Roky Erickson and the Aliens, who made hard rock records with lyrics about science fiction and horror themes like zombies, fire demons, medical experimentation, and two-headed dogs: [Excerpt: Roky Erickson and the Aliens, "Two-Headed Dog"] Erickson became a cult artist, cited as an influence by everyone from Henry Rollins to ZZ Top, and intermittently released recordings for the next few decades, but he spent much of the time dealing with severe, untreated, schizophrenia. There are many stories about this time that get shared, and are easy to find online, but which I'm not going to repeat here because they tend to be shared in a freak-show manner. But by 2001 he was placed in the legal custody of his brother . This kind of situation is often abused, but in Erickson's case it seems to have done him good. His brother got him legal and medical help, and helped him start finally receiving royalties on some of his records. There was a one-off fiftieth anniversary reunion of most of the living original members of the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and in 2010 Erickson released his finest album, a collaboration with the band Okkervil River, True Love Cast Out All Evil: [Excerpt: Roky Erickson and Okkervil River, "Ain't Blues Too Bad"] By all accounts the last years of Erickson's life were happier and more comfortable than any he'd had. He got to tour the world, playing for appreciative crowds, he got his schizophrenia under control, and he was able to live a relatively independent life, and to know that new generations of musicians admired his work. He died in 2019, aged seventy-one.