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4 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
2 episodes with Terry Southern
This week- a pair of comedic classics about absurdist dystopian patriarchies. When he goes to prison for killing the gang responsible for the death of his love, Saiga Riki-Oh (here called Ricky Ho Lik Wong), finds himself at odds with the corrupt system and its enforcers. A cult classic of ultra brutal slapstick martial art splatter violence that. Fun fact- after filming the finale, it took lead actor Fan Sui-wong three days to wash off the blood. Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky. When the paranoid commander of the Strategic Air Command decides to take matters into his own hands and gives the go-ahead to drop nuclear bombs on Russia, the US Government springs into action to avert devastation. Only to learn the Soviet Union might have a real doomsday machine and any aggression will automatically annihilate us all. Fun fact- in the 1990s, director Stanly Kubrick and co-screenwriter Terry Southern had worked on a screenplay for a sequel. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. All that and plans are set in motion... Join us, won't you? Episode 398: Intestinal Fortitude
Tom Lisanti (New York, NY) is an award-winning author of 11 books about film and television. His books include Carol Lynley: Her Film & TV Career in Thrillers, Fantasy & Suspense (BearManor Media, 2020); Talking Sixties Drive-In Movies (BearManor Media, 2017), and Hollywood Surf and Beach Movies: The First Wave, 1959-1969 (McFarland and Company, 2005). In 2010, he co-wrote, with Gail Gerber, her memoir Trippin' with Terry Southern: What I Think I Remember (McFarland and Company), which won the Independent Publishers Book Awards 2010 Silver Medal for Best Memoir/ Autobiography. He appeared on Turner Classic Movies co-hosting with Ben Mankiewicz a week of 1960s spring break/beach movies and he is featured in the documentary The Green Girl about actress Susan Oliver and an upcoming documentary about novelist/screenwriter Terry Southern. His bylines have appeared in Cinema of the ‘70s, Films of the Golden Age, Scary Monsters, and Cinema Retro magazines.
Tom Lisanti (New York, NY) is an award-winning author of 11 books about film and television. His books include Carol Lynley: Her Film & TV Career in Thrillers, Fantasy & Suspense (BearManor Media, 2020); Talking Sixties Drive-In Movies (BearManor Media, 2017), and Hollywood Surf and Beach Movies: The First Wave, 1959-1969 (McFarland and Company, 2005). In 2010, he co-wrote, with Gail Gerber, her memoir Trippin' with Terry Southern: What I Think I Remember (McFarland and Company), which won the Independent Publishers Book Awards 2010 Silver Medal for Best Memoir/ Autobiography. He appeared on Turner Classic Movies co-hosting with Ben Mankiewicz a week of 1960s spring break/beach movies and he is featured in the documentary The Green Girl about actress Susan Oliver and an upcoming documentary about novelist/screenwriter Terry Southern. His bylines have appeared in Cinema of the ‘70s, Films of the Golden Age, Scary Monsters, and Cinema Retro magazines.
Remember that time when Homer became Mr. Burns' prank monkey? Adam and Nate watch The Magic Christian (1969), an adaptation of Terry Southern's satirical novel that inspired The Simpsons episode “Homer vs. Dignity” (S12E5). Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr punking rich Brits to prove that everyone has their price—how could you go wrong? Well, let us tell you.Also in this episode:• Terry Southern's influence on The Simpsons, Stanley Kubrick, The Beatles and beyond• Is Peter Sellers' talent as big as his ego? • The undeniable and underutilized magnetism of Ringo Starr• How this movie became a pop culture vortex in the careers of The Beatles, Monty Python, Yul Brynner, and Roman Polanski• Plus, check out our show notes for a complete list of Simpsons references, double feature suggestions, and further readingWe'll be taking a brief hiatus, but for our Non-Denominational Holiday Fun Fest on December 17th, we'll be back to revisit The Terminator (1984) and “Grift of the Magi” (S11E9) with “the villain of Letterboxd” Matt Lynch.Discover more great podcasts on the That Shelf Podcast Network. Follow us @simpsonsfilmpod on Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter, and Letterboxd.
On our election day special in America, Nate and Adam invited filmmaker and podcaster Devan Scott (How Would Lubitsch Do It?) to dissect the painfully relevant political thriller All the President's Men (1976) and its Simpsons send-up in “Sideshow Bob Roberts” (S6E5). Join us as we try to laugh through the nausea and exorcize the ghosts of elections past!Also in this episode:• The Simpsons' surprisingly timeless satire of populism and corruption in American politics• Why they call cinematographer Gordon Willis the “Prince of Darkness” and why they shouldn't• The delightful chemistry and realism of Robert Redford's Woodward and Dustin Hoffman's Bernstein• Is it a bad sign that a movie about a real-life government conspiracy orchestrated by one of the most corrupt presidents in American history makes us feel nostalgic about simpler times?• Plus, check out our show notes for a complete list of Simpsons references, double feature suggestions, and further readingNext time, Adam and Nate explore the film adaptation of Terry Southern's cult classic novel, The Magic Christian (1969) and Homer and Mr. Burns's reenactment in “Homer vs. Dignity” (S12E5). Peter Sellers. Ringo Starr. Elaborate practical jokes. Pow.For more of Devan Scott's film content, check out the complete podcast How Would Lubitsch Do It? and his video essays on YouTube, or follow him on Twitter, Letterboxd, and Instagram.Discover more great podcasts on the That Shelf Podcast Network. Follow us @simpsonsfilmpod on Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter, and Letterboxd.
Mary Jenifer Mitchell and I discussed her early Tv favorites Liberace and Oral Roberts; going to NY after high school graduation; spending the summer of '66 in NYC; going to college in Colorado and dropping out; moving to NYC to be an actress in 1967; becoming friends with Michael O'Donoghue; not trying out for SNL b/c she was visiting her injured sister; being part of the Tom Eyens Eye Repertory Company; being naked in The Dirtiest Show in Town; getting cast in Milos Formans' Taking Off; performing Ode to a Screw in the film; being in Oh, Calcutta; getting fired when she asked to be paid the same; being nude on stage; working with Carly Simon and Kathy (then Bobo) Bates; being in National Lampoons Foto Funnies; her friendships with Anne Beatts, Sean Kelly, and Brian McConnachie; Lemmings; Alice Playten; breaking her foot and getting fired; combative nature of production; playing Joan Baez; Christopher Guest being hard to work with but a great friend after; Chevy Chase and John Belushi; being an extra in SNL sketches Bee Capades and Hey You!; the film Foreplay; Pat Paulsen; Terry Southern; appearing in Manhattan Cable Access in 1977; the film Pelvis; the play Playing with Fire were she plays a mute prostitute; John Belushi's funeral; her love for Leon Russell; a documentary about her; finding out she's allergic to Quaaludes with John Belushi; and her surgeries.
Dana and Tom with guest Jesse Sertle (fellow group member of CineMadison, previously on Rounders, @jsertle on IG) discuss the dawn of New Hollywood with Easy Rider (1969): written and directed by Dennis Hopper with Peter Fonda and Terry Southern, starring Dennis Hopper, Peter Fonda, and Jack Nicholson.Plot Summary: In the open road odyssey "Easy Rider," director Dennis Hopper and co-star Peter Fonda embody the restless spirit of the 1960s counterculture. The film, a rambling narrative of freedom and disillusionment, follows two bikers, Wyatt (Fonda) and Billy (Hopper), as they traverse the American Southwest in search of authenticity and liberation. The duo's journey, funded by a drug deal, becomes a kaleidoscopic exploration of the American landscape, both physical and cultural.The film captures a nation in transition with its stunning cinematography showcasing the vastness of America while contrasting it with the intimacy of its small towns and eccentric characters. Along the way, they encounter an assortment of characters, from an idealistic lawyer (Jack Nicholson) to a communal farm, representing the era's ideological clashes."Easy Rider" is a raw, poignant, and at times, tragic reflection on the price of freedom and the inevitable collision between personal liberty and societal norms. The film's haunting ending, set against the backdrop of a sun setting over the American landscape, leaves viewers with a sense of loss and contemplation. Hopper's direction, combined with Fonda's cool demeanor and Nicholson's electrifying performance, creates a cinematic experience that is as timeless as it is of its time.Chapters:00:00 Introduction and Welcome01:59 Cast and Recognition04:12 Relationship(s) to Easy Rider07:54 What is Easy Rider About?10:47 The Impact of Easy Rider on the Film Industry15:50 The Relevance of Easy Rider Today17:40 Plot Summary for Easy Rider19:22 Did You Know?21:09 First Break23:20 Ask Dana Anything...25:16 Best Performance(s)34:08 Best/Favorite/Indelible Scene(s)42:05 Second Break43:01 In Memoriam43:36 Best/Funniest Lines44:54 The Stanley Rubric - Legacy50:28 The Stanley Rubric - Impact/Significance55:44 The Stanley Rubric - Novelty57:49 The Stanley Rubric - Classicness01:03:51 The Stanley Rubric - Rewatchability01:06:29 The Stanley Rubric - Audience Score and Final Total01:07:55 Remaining QuestionsYou can now follow us on Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, or TikTok (@gmoatpodcast) or find our Facebook page at Greatest Movie of All-Time Podcast.For the video version of this episode, go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKeAEQ4qkUQFor more on the episode, go to: https://www.ronnyduncanstudios.com/post/easy-rider-1969-ft-jesse-sertleFor the entire rankings list so far, go to:Full Graded List - Greatest Movies of All-Time Keywords:Easy Rider, counterculture, new Hollywood, independent film, freedom, disillusionment, disconnect, Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson, Easy Rider, film industry, independent projects, studio system, 1970s culture, family, backgrounds, death row, Wisconsin prisons, novelty, classicness, rewatchability, ending,...
Emerson Dameron's Carnal Candyland is a sexy and philosophical Bite-Sized Erotic Thriller from the strange world of Competitive Psychedelic Cheerleading. Candy is the world's most present and passionate psychedelic cheerleader... until her ex's cynical machinations get her booted from the squad. When she opts for a synesthetic vision quest, it's clear her adventure is only beginning.Inspired by Voltaire, Terry Southern, Terrence McKenna, and you.This story exists in three mixes:This one right hereAnother one available on BandcampA third will premiere on the next proper episode of Emerson Dameron's Medicated Minutes, S5E7: The Best of All Possible Eyes Without a Face.Words and music by Emerson Dameron, host of Emerson Dameron's Medicated Minutes, the only avant-garde personal development program that matters, as well as the home of the Bite-Sized Erotic Thrillers. I love you, personally. Levity saves lives.Support the Show.Support the show directly, or get exclusive goodies via Bandcamp.
Three years ago, at age 66, the Belgium-born writer and critic Lucy Sante—known for her award-winning essays, criticism, and books, including Low Life: Lures and Snares of Old New York (1991)—announced to a few dozen close friends that she was transitioning to womanhood. This news came following nearly four decades of publishing her work under the byline Luc Sante. In her new memoir, I Heard Her Call My Name (Penguin Press), which she discusses at length on this episode of Time Sensitive, Sante writes about the first six months of her recent transition, the decades-long silence that preceded it, and various piercing moments from her life that led up to it. She is also the author of books such as Nineteen Reservoirs (2022), The Other Paris (2015), and Folk Photography (2009), and her writing has appeared in publications including The New York Review of Books, The New York Times, Artforum, and Vanity Fair. Across all of her work, Sante brings a searing, no-nonsense clarity and a photographic eye for detail.Also on this episode, Sante talks about why she thinks of the 1960s as “a kind of magic time,” her life-transforming literary journey, and her decision to open the floodgates of her womanhood.Special thanks to our Season 9 presenting sponsor, L'École, School of Jewelry Arts.Show notes:[3:49] Lucy Sante[3:49] I Heard Her Call My Name[3:49] The Factory of Facts[6:27] Nineteen Reservoirs[6:27] Low Life[9:28] Histories of the Transgender Child[9:28] Jules Gill-Peterson[22:11] Tintin[24:07] Terry Southern[24:07] Writers in Revolt[24:07] Alexander Trocchi's Caine's Book[24:07] Allen Ginsberg's “Howl” [24:07] Peter Orlovsky[24:07] William Burroughs's Naked Lunch[24:07] Curzio Malapart's Kaputt[29:05] The New York Review of Books[34:23] Folk Photography[36:55] The Other Paris[38:04] Walker Evans[38:04] Robert Frank[46:10] Maybe People Would Be the Times[49:52] “The Invention of the Blues”[51:41] The Velvet Underground[51:41] Lou Reed[51:41] Andrew Wylie
(Bonus) Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (known simply and more commonly as Dr. Strangelove) is a 1964 political satire black comedy film directed, co-written, and produced by Stanley Kubrick and starring Peter Sellers in three roles, including the title character. The film, which satirizes the Cold War fears of a nuclear conflict between the Soviet Union and the United States, also stars George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Keenan Wynn, Slim Pickens, and Tracy Reed, and is loosely based on the thriller novel Red Alert (1958) by Peter George, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Kubrick and Terry Southern. The story concerns an unhinged United States Air Force general who orders a pre-emptive nuclear attack on the Soviet Union. It separately follows the President of the United States, his advisors, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and a Royal Air Force exchange officer as they attempt to prevent the crew of a B-52 (following orders from the general) from bombing the Soviet Union and starting a nuclear war.
GGACP marks the birthday of director, producer and counterculture hero Peter Fonda (b. February 23) by revisiting this fascinating interview (one of GIlbert's favorites) from 2018. In this episode, Peter talks about the making of "Easy Rider," his complex relationship with his legendary dad and his encounters with Salvador Dali, Jean Cocteau, John Lennon and Ernest Hemingway (among others). Also, Dennis Hopper holds a grudge, Elvis straps on a helmet, Jack Nicholson steps in for Rip Torn and Victor Mature gives a bravura performance. PLUS: The genius of Terry Southern! In praise of Christopher Plummer! The Monkees foot the bill! The Beatles find inspiration! And Peter names his favorite Henry Fonda movie! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Dana and Tom discuss the Cold War satire, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964): directed and written by Stanley Kubrick, with Terry Southern and Peter George, music by Laurie Johnson, starring Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, and Slim Pickens.Plot Summary: In Stanley Kubrick's satirical masterpiece, "Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb," the Cold War tension reaches a bizarre crescendo as the United States and the Soviet Union teeter on the brink of nuclear annihilation.With a darkly comedic touch, Kubrick weaves a tale of political incompetence, military absurdity, and the unpredictable consequences of technological warfare. Peter Sellers delivers a tour de force performance in multiple roles, including the titular Dr. Strangelove, a wheelchair-bound ex-Nazi scientist with a penchant for sinister solutions.As geopolitical tensions unfold, the film explores the absurdity of mutually assured destruction and the precarious balance between power and chaos. Kubrick's sharp wit and keen eye for irony make "Dr. Strangelove" a timeless commentary on the folly of humanity in the face of its own creation.You can now follow us on Instagram, Twitter, or TikTok (@gmoatpodcast) or find our Facebook page at Greatest Movie of All-Time Podcast.For more on the episode, go to: https://www.ronnyduncanstudios.com/post/dr-strangelove-or-how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love-the-bomb-1964For the entire rankings list so far, go to:Full Graded List - Greatest Movies of All-Time Ronny Duncan Studios
Episode 171 looks at "Hey Jude", the White Album, and the career of the Beatles from August 1967 through November 1968. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a fifty-seven-minute bonus episode available, on "I Love You" by People!. 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/ Errata Not really an error, but at one point I refer to Ornette Coleman as a saxophonist. While he was, he plays trumpet on the track that is excerpted after that. Resources No Mixcloud this week due to the number of songs by the Beatles. I have read literally dozens of books on the Beatles, and used bits of information from many of them. All my Beatles episodes refer to: The Complete Beatles Chronicle by Mark Lewisohn, All The Songs: The Stories Behind Every Beatles Release by Jean-Michel Guesdon, And The Band Begins To Play: The Definitive Guide To The Songs of The Beatles by Steve Lambley, The Beatles By Ear by Kevin Moore, Revolution in the Head by Ian MacDonald, and The Beatles Anthology. For this episode, I also referred to Last Interview by David Sheff, a longform interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono from shortly before Lennon's death; Many Years From Now by Barry Miles, an authorised biography of Paul McCartney; and Here, There, and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles by Geoff Emerick and Howard Massey. This time I also used Steve Turner's The Beatles: The Stories Behind the Songs 1967-1970. I referred to Philip Norman's biographies of John Lennon, George Harrison, and Paul McCartney, to Graeme Thomson's biography of George Harrison, Take a Sad Song by James Campion, Yoko Ono: An Artful Life by Donald Brackett, Those Were the Days 2.0 by Stephan Granados, and Sound Pictures by Kenneth Womack. Sadly the only way to get the single mix of “Hey Jude” is on this ludicrously-expensive out-of-print box set, but a remixed stereo mix is easily available on the new reissue of the 1967-70 compilation. The original mixes of the White Album are also, shockingly, out of print, but this 2018 remix is available for the moment. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I start, a quick note -- this episode deals, among other topics, with child abandonment, spousal neglect, suicide attempts, miscarriage, rape accusations, and heroin addiction. If any of those topics are likely to upset you, you might want to check the transcript rather than listening to this episode. It also, for once, contains a short excerpt of an expletive, but given that that expletive in that context has been regularly played on daytime radio without complaint for over fifty years, I suspect it can be excused. The use of mantra meditation is something that exists across religions, and which appears to have been independently invented multiple times, in multiple cultures. In the Western culture to which most of my listeners belong, it is now best known as an aspect of what is known as "mindfulness", a secularised version of Buddhism which aims to provide adherents with the benefits of the teachings of the Buddha but without the cosmology to which they are attached. But it turns up in almost every religious tradition I know of in one form or another. The idea of mantra meditation is a very simple one, and one that even has some basis in science. There is a mathematical principle in neurology and information science called the free energy principle which says our brains are wired to try to minimise how surprised we are -- our brain is constantly making predictions about the world, and then looking at the results from our senses to see if they match. If they do, that's great, and the brain will happily move on to its next prediction. If they don't, the brain has to update its model of the world to match the new information, make new predictions, and see if those new predictions are a better match. Every person has a different mental model of the world, and none of them match reality, but every brain tries to get as close as possible. This updating of the model to match the new information is called "thinking", and it uses up energy, and our bodies and brains have evolved to conserve energy as much as possible. This means that for many people, most of the time, thinking is unpleasant, and indeed much of the time that people have spent thinking, they've been thinking about how to stop themselves having to do it at all, and when they have managed to stop thinking, however briefly, they've experienced great bliss. Many more or less effective technologies have been created to bring about a more minimal-energy state, including alcohol, heroin, and barbituates, but many of these have unwanted side-effects, such as death, which people also tend to want to avoid, and so people have often turned to another technology. It turns out that for many people, they can avoid thinking by simply thinking about something that is utterly predictable. If they minimise the amount of sensory input, and concentrate on something that they can predict exactly, eventually they can turn off their mind, relax, and float downstream, without dying. One easy way to do this is to close your eyes, so you can't see anything, make your breath as regular as possible, and then concentrate on a sound that repeats over and over. If you repeat a single phrase or word a few hundred times, that regular repetition eventually causes your mind to stop having to keep track of the world, and experience a peace that is, by all accounts, unlike any other experience. What word or phrase that is can depend very much on the tradition. In Transcendental Meditation, each person has their own individual phrase. In the Catholicism in which George Harrison and Paul McCartney were raised, popular phrases for this are "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner" or "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." In some branches of Buddhism, a popular mantra is "_NAMU MYŌHŌ RENGE KYŌ_". In the Hinduism to which George Harrison later converted, you can use "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare, Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare", "Om Namo Bhagavate Vāsudevāya" or "Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha". Those last two start with the syllable "Om", and indeed some people prefer to just use that syllable, repeating a single syllable over and over again until they reach a state of transcendence. [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Hey Jude" ("na na na na na na na")] We don't know much about how the Beatles first discovered Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, except that it was thanks to Pattie Boyd, George Harrison's then-wife. Unfortunately, her memory of how she first became involved in the Maharishi's Spiritual Regeneration Movement, as described in her autobiography, doesn't fully line up with other known facts. She talks about reading about the Maharishi in the paper with her friend Marie-Lise while George was away on tour, but she also places the date that this happened in February 1967, several months after the Beatles had stopped touring forever. We'll be seeing a lot more of these timing discrepancies as this story progresses, and people's memories increasingly don't match the events that happened to them. Either way, it's clear that Pattie became involved in the Spiritual Regeneration Movement a good length of time before her husband did. She got him to go along with her to one of the Maharishi's lectures, after she had already been converted to the practice of Transcendental Meditation, and they brought along John, Paul, and their partners (Ringo's wife Maureen had just given birth, so they didn't come). As we heard back in episode one hundred and fifty, that lecture was impressive enough that the group, plus their wives and girlfriends (with the exception of Maureen Starkey) and Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithfull, all went on a meditation retreat with the Maharishi at a holiday camp in Bangor, and it was there that they learned that Brian Epstein had been found dead. The death of the man who had guided the group's career could not have come at a worse time for the band's stability. The group had only recorded one song in the preceding two months -- Paul's "Your Mother Should Know" -- and had basically been running on fumes since completing recording of Sgt Pepper many months earlier. John's drug intake had increased to the point that he was barely functional -- although with the enthusiasm of the newly converted he had decided to swear off LSD at the Maharishi's urging -- and his marriage was falling apart. Similarly, Paul McCartney's relationship with Jane Asher was in a bad state, though both men were trying to repair their damaged relationships, while both George and Ringo were having doubts about the band that had made them famous. In George's case, he was feeling marginalised by John and Paul, his songs ignored or paid cursory attention, and there was less for him to do on the records as the group moved away from making guitar-based rock and roll music into the stranger areas of psychedelia. And Ringo, whose main memory of the recording of Sgt Pepper was of learning to play chess while the others went through the extensive overdubs that characterised that album, was starting to feel like his playing was deteriorating, and that as the only non-writer in the band he was on the outside to an extent. On top of that, the group were in the middle of a major plan to restructure their business. As part of their contract renegotiations with EMI at the beginning of 1967, it had been agreed that they would receive two million pounds -- roughly fifteen million pounds in today's money -- in unpaid royalties as a lump sum. If that had been paid to them as individuals, or through the company they owned, the Beatles Ltd, they would have had to pay the full top rate of tax on it, which as George had complained the previous year was over ninety-five percent. (In fact, he'd been slightly exaggerating the generosity of the UK tax system to the rich, as at that point the top rate of income tax was somewhere around ninety-seven and a half percent). But happily for them, a couple of years earlier the UK had restructured its tax laws and introduced a corporation tax, which meant that the profits of corporations were no longer taxed at the same high rate as income. So a new company had been set up, The Beatles & Co, and all the group's non-songwriting income was paid into the company. Each Beatle owned five percent of the company, and the other eighty percent was owned by a new partnership, a corporation that was soon renamed Apple Corps -- a name inspired by a painting that McCartney had liked by the artist Rene Magritte. In the early stages of Apple, it was very entangled with Nems, the company that was owned by Brian and Clive Epstein, and which was in the process of being sold to Robert Stigwood, though that sale fell through after Brian's death. The first part of Apple, Apple Publishing, had been set up in the summer of 1967, and was run by Terry Doran, a friend of Epstein's who ran a motor dealership -- most of the Apple divisions would be run by friends of the group rather than by people with experience in the industries in question. As Apple was set up during the point that Stigwood was getting involved with NEMS, Apple Publishing's initial offices were in the same building with, and shared staff with, two publishing companies that Stigwood owned, Dratleaf Music, who published Cream's songs, and Abigail Music, the Bee Gees' publishers. And indeed the first two songs published by Apple were copyrights that were gifted to the company by Stigwood -- "Listen to the Sky", a B-side by an obscure band called Sands: [Excerpt: Sands, "Listen to the Sky"] And "Outside Woman Blues", an arrangement by Eric Clapton of an old blues song by Blind Joe Reynolds, which Cream had copyrighted separately and released on Disraeli Gears: [Excerpt: Cream, "Outside Woman Blues"] But Apple soon started signing outside songwriters -- once Mike Berry, a member of Apple Publishing's staff, had sat McCartney down and explained to him what music publishing actually was, something he had never actually understood even though he'd been a songwriter for five years. Those songwriters, given that this was 1967, were often also performers, and as Apple Records had not yet been set up, Apple would try to arrange recording contracts for them with other labels. They started with a group called Focal Point, who got signed by badgering Paul McCartney to listen to their songs until he gave them Doran's phone number to shut them up: [Excerpt: Focal Point, "Sycamore Sid"] But the big early hope for Apple Publishing was a songwriter called George Alexander. Alexander's birth name had been Alexander Young, and he was the brother of George Young, who was a member of the Australian beat group The Easybeats, who'd had a hit with "Friday on My Mind": [Excerpt: The Easybeats, "Friday on My Mind"] His younger brothers Malcolm and Angus would go on to have a few hits themselves, but AC/DC wouldn't be formed for another five years. Terry Doran thought that Alexander should be a member of a band, because bands were more popular than solo artists at the time, and so he was placed with three former members of Tony Rivers and the Castaways, a Beach Boys soundalike group that had had some minor success. John Lennon suggested that the group be named Grapefruit, after a book he was reading by a conceptual artist of his acquaintance named Yoko Ono, and as Doran was making arrangements with Terry Melcher for a reciprocal publishing deal by which Melcher's American company would publish Apple songs in the US while Apple published songs from Melcher's company in the UK, it made sense for Melcher to also produce Grapefruit's first single, "Dear Delilah": [Excerpt: Grapefruit, "Dear Delilah"] That made number twenty-one in the UK when it came out in early 1968, on the back of publicity about Grapefruit's connection with the Beatles, but future singles by the band were much less successful, and like several other acts involved with Apple, they found that they were more hampered by the Beatles connection than helped. A few other people were signed to Apple Publishing early on, of whom the most notable was Jackie Lomax. Lomax had been a member of a minor Merseybeat group, the Undertakers, and after they had split up, he'd been signed by Brian Epstein with a new group, the Lomax Alliance, who had released one single, "Try as You May": [Excerpt: The Lomax Alliance, "Try As You May"] After Epstein's death, Lomax had plans to join another band, being formed by another Merseybeat musician, Chris Curtis, the former drummer of the Searchers. But after going to the Beatles to talk with them about them helping the new group financially, Lomax was persuaded by John Lennon to go solo instead. He may later have regretted that decision, as by early 1968 the people that Curtis had recruited for his new band had ditched him and were making a name for themselves as Deep Purple. Lomax recorded one solo single with funding from Stigwood, a cover version of a song by an obscure singer-songwriter, Jake Holmes, "Genuine Imitation Life": [Excerpt: Jackie Lomax, "Genuine Imitation Life"] But he was also signed to Apple Publishing as a songwriter. The Beatles had only just started laying out plans for Apple when Epstein died, and other than the publishing company one of the few things they'd agreed on was that they were going to have a film company, which was to be run by Denis O'Dell, who had been an associate producer on A Hard Day's Night and on How I Won The War, the Richard Lester film Lennon had recently starred in. A few days after Epstein's death, they had a meeting, in which they agreed that the band needed to move forward quickly if they were going to recover from Epstein's death. They had originally been planning on going to India with the Maharishi to study meditation, but they decided to put that off until the new year, and to press forward with a film project Paul had been talking about, to be titled Magical Mystery Tour. And so, on the fifth of September 1967, they went back into the recording studio and started work on a song of John's that was earmarked for the film, "I am the Walrus": [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus"] Magical Mystery Tour, the film, has a mixed reputation which we will talk about shortly, but one defence that Paul McCartney has always made of it is that it's the only place where you can see the Beatles performing "I am the Walrus". While the song was eventually relegated to a B-side, it's possibly the finest B-side of the Beatles' career, and one of the best tracks the group ever made. As with many of Lennon's songs from this period, the song was a collage of many different elements pulled from his environment and surroundings, and turned into something that was rather more than the sum of its parts. For its musical inspiration, Lennon pulled from, of all things, a police siren going past his house. (For those who are unfamiliar with what old British police sirens sounded like, as opposed to the ones in use for most of my lifetime or in other countries, here's a recording of one): [Excerpt: British police siren ca 1968] That inspired Lennon to write a snatch of lyric to go with the sound of the siren, starting "Mister city policeman sitting pretty". He had two other song fragments, one about sitting in the garden, and one about sitting on a cornflake, and he told Hunter Davies, who was doing interviews for his authorised biography of the group, “I don't know how it will all end up. Perhaps they'll turn out to be different parts of the same song.” But the final element that made these three disparate sections into a song was a letter that came from Stephen Bayley, a pupil at Lennon's old school Quarry Bank, who told him that the teachers at the school -- who Lennon always thought of as having suppressed his creativity -- were now analysing Beatles lyrics in their lessons. Lennon decided to come up with some nonsense that they couldn't analyse -- though as nonsensical as the finished song is, there's an underlying anger to a lot of it that possibly comes from Lennon thinking of his school experiences. And so Lennon asked his old schoolfriend Pete Shotton to remind him of a disgusting playground chant that kids used to sing in schools in the North West of England (and which they still sang with very minor variations at my own school decades later -- childhood folklore has a remarkably long life). That rhyme went: Yellow matter custard, green snot pie All mixed up with a dead dog's eye Slap it on a butty, nice and thick, And drink it down with a cup of cold sick Lennon combined some parts of this with half-remembered fragments of Lewis Carrol's The Walrus and the Carpenter, and with some punning references to things that were going on in his own life and those of his friends -- though it's difficult to know exactly which of the stories attached to some of the more incomprehensible bits of the lyrics are accurate. The story that the line "I am the eggman" is about a sexual proclivity of Eric Burdon of the Animals seems plausible, while the contention by some that the phrase "semolina pilchard" is a reference to Sgt Pilcher, the corrupt policeman who had arrested three of the Rolling Stones, and would later arrest Lennon, on drugs charges, seems less likely. The track is a masterpiece of production, but the release of the basic take on Anthology 2 in 1996 showed that the underlying performance, before George Martin worked his magic with the overdubs, is still a remarkable piece of work: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus (Anthology 2 version)"] But Martin's arrangement and production turned the track from a merely very good track into a masterpiece. The string arrangement, very much in the same mould as that for "Strawberry Fields Forever" but giving a very different effect with its harsh cello glissandi, is the kind of thing one expects from Martin, but there's also the chanting of the Mike Sammes Singers, who were more normally booked for sessions like Englebert Humperdinck's "The Last Waltz": [Excerpt: Engelbert Humperdinck, "The Last Waltz"] But here were instead asked to imitate the sound of the strings, make grunting noises, and generally go very far out of their normal comfort zone: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus"] But the most fascinating piece of production in the entire track is an idea that seems to have been inspired by people like John Cage -- a live feed of a radio being tuned was played into the mono mix from about the halfway point, and whatever was on the radio at the time was captured: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus"] This is also why for many decades it was impossible to have a true stereo mix of the track -- the radio part was mixed directly into the mono mix, and it wasn't until the 1990s that someone thought to track down a copy of the original radio broadcasts and recreate the process. In one of those bits of synchronicity that happen more often than you would think when you're creating aleatory art, and which are why that kind of process can be so appealing, one bit of dialogue from the broadcast of King Lear that was on the radio as the mixing was happening was *perfectly* timed: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus"] After completing work on the basic track for "I am the Walrus", the group worked on two more songs for the film, George's "Blue Jay Way" and a group-composed twelve-bar blues instrumental called "Flying", before starting production. Magical Mystery Tour, as an idea, was inspired in equal parts by Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters, the collective of people we talked about in the episode on the Grateful Dead who travelled across the US extolling the virtues of psychedelic drugs, and by mystery tours, a British working-class tradition that has rather fallen out of fashion in the intervening decades. A mystery tour would generally be put on by a coach-hire company, and would be a day trip to an unannounced location -- though the location would in fact be very predictable, and would be a seaside town within a couple of hours' drive of its starting point. In the case of the ones the Beatles remembered from their own childhoods, this would be to a coastal town in Lancashire or Wales, like Blackpool, Rhyl, or Prestatyn. A coachload of people would pay to be driven to this random location, get very drunk and have a singsong on the bus, and spend a day wherever they were taken. McCartney's plan was simple -- they would gather a group of passengers and replicate this experience over the course of several days, and film whatever went on, but intersperse that with more planned out sketches and musical numbers. For this reason, along with the Beatles and their associates, the cast included some actors found through Spotlight and some of the group's favourite performers, like the comedian Nat Jackley (whose comedy sequence directed by John was cut from the final film) and the surrealist poet/singer/comedian Ivor Cutler: [Excerpt: Ivor Cutler, "I'm Going in a Field"] The film also featured an appearance by a new band who would go on to have great success over the next year, the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band. They had recorded their first single in Abbey Road at the same time as the Beatles were recording Revolver, but rather than being progressive psychedelic rock, it had been a remake of a 1920s novelty song: [Excerpt: The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, "My Brother Makes the Noises For the Talkies"] Their performance in Magical Mystery Tour was very different though -- they played a fifties rock pastiche written by band leaders Vivian Stanshall and Neil Innes while a stripper took off her clothes. While several other musical sequences were recorded for the film, including one by the band Traffic and one by Cutler, other than the Beatles tracks only the Bonzos' song made it into the finished film: [Excerpt: The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, "Death Cab for Cutie"] That song, thirty years later, would give its name to a prominent American alternative rock band. Incidentally the same night that Magical Mystery Tour was first broadcast was also the night that the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band first appeared on a TV show, Do Not Adjust Your Set, which featured three future members of the Monty Python troupe -- Eric Idle, Michael Palin, and Terry Jones. Over the years the careers of the Bonzos, the Pythons, and the Beatles would become increasingly intertwined, with George Harrison in particular striking up strong friendships and working relationships with Bonzos Neil Innes and "Legs" Larry Smith. The filming of Magical Mystery Tour went about as well as one might expect from a film made by four directors, none of whom had any previous filmmaking experience, and none of whom had any business knowledge. The Beatles were used to just turning up and having things magically done for them by other people, and had no real idea of the infrastructure challenges that making a film, even a low-budget one, actually presents, and ended up causing a great deal of stress to almost everyone involved. The completed film was shown on TV on Boxing Day 1967 to general confusion and bemusement. It didn't help that it was originally broadcast in black and white, and so for example the scene showing shifting landscapes (outtake footage from Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove, tinted various psychedelic colours) over the "Flying" music, just looked like grey fuzz. But also, it just wasn't what people were expecting from a Beatles film. This was a ramshackle, plotless, thing more inspired by Andy Warhol's underground films than by the kind of thing the group had previously appeared in, and it was being presented as Christmas entertainment for all the family. And to be honest, it's not even a particularly good example of underground filmmaking -- though it looks like a masterpiece when placed next to something like the Bee Gees' similar effort, Cucumber Castle. But there are enough interesting sequences in there for the project not to be a complete failure -- and the deleted scenes on the DVD release, including the performances by Cutler and Traffic, and the fact that the film was edited down from ten hours to fifty-two minutes, makes one wonder if there's a better film that could be constructed from the original footage. Either way, the reaction to the film was so bad that McCartney actually appeared on David Frost's TV show the next day to defend it and, essentially, apologise. While they were editing the film, the group were also continuing to work in the studio, including on two new McCartney songs, "The Fool on the Hill", which was included in Magical Mystery Tour, and "Hello Goodbye", which wasn't included on the film's soundtrack but was released as the next single, with "I Am the Walrus" as the B-side: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Hello Goodbye"] Incidentally, in the UK the soundtrack to Magical Mystery Tour was released as a double-EP rather than as an album (in the US, the group's recent singles and B-sides were added to turn it into a full-length album, which is how it's now generally available). "I Am the Walrus" was on the double-EP as well as being on the single's B-side, and the double-EP got to number two on the singles charts, meaning "I am the Walrus" was on the records at number one and number two at the same time. Before it became obvious that the film, if not the soundtrack, was a disaster, the group held a launch party on the twenty-first of December, 1967. The band members went along in fancy dress, as did many of the cast and crew -- the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band performed at the party. Mike Love and Bruce Johnston of the Beach Boys also turned up at the party, and apparently at one point jammed with the Bonzos, and according to some, but not all, reports, a couple of the Beatles joined in as well. Love and Johnston had both just met the Maharishi for the first time a couple of days earlier, and Love had been as impressed as the Beatles were, and it may have been at this party that the group mentioned to Love that they would soon be going on a retreat in India with the guru -- a retreat that was normally meant for training TM instructors, but this time seemed to be more about getting celebrities involved. Love would also end up going with them. That party was also the first time that Cynthia Lennon had an inkling that John might not be as faithful to her as she previously supposed. John had always "joked" about being attracted to George Harrison's wife, Patti, but this time he got a little more blatant about his attraction than he ever had previously, to the point that he made Cynthia cry, and Cynthia's friend, the pop star Lulu, decided to give Lennon a very public dressing-down for his cruelty to his wife, a dressing-down that must have been a sight to behold, as Lennon was dressed as a Teddy boy while Lulu was in a Shirley Temple costume. It's a sign of how bad the Lennons' marriage was at this point that this was the second time in a two-month period where Cynthia had ended up crying because of John at a film launch party and been comforted by a female pop star. In October, Cilla Black had held a party to celebrate the belated release of John's film How I Won the War, and during the party Georgie Fame had come up to Black and said, confused, "Cynthia Lennon is hiding in your wardrobe". Black went and had a look, and Cynthia explained to her “I'm waiting to see how long it is before John misses me and comes looking for me.” Black's response had been “You'd better face it, kid—he's never gonna come.” Also at the Magical Mystery Tour party was Lennon's father, now known as Freddie Lennon, and his new nineteen-year-old fiancee. While Hunter Davis had been researching the Beatles' biography, he'd come across some evidence that the version of Freddie's attitude towards John that his mother's side of the family had always told him -- that Freddie had been a cruel and uncaring husband who had not actually wanted to be around his son -- might not be the whole of the truth, and that the mother who he had thought of as saintly might also have had some part to play in their marriage breaking down and Freddie not seeing his son for twenty years. The two had made some tentative attempts at reconciliation, and indeed Freddie would even come and live with John for a while, though within a couple of years the younger Lennon's heart would fully harden against his father again. Of course, the things that John always resented his father for were pretty much exactly the kind of things that Lennon himself was about to do. It was around this time as well that Derek Taylor gave the Beatles copies of the debut album by a young singer/songwriter named Harry Nilsson. Nilsson will be getting his own episode down the line, but not for a couple of years at my current rates, so it's worth bringing that up here, because that album became a favourite of all the Beatles, and would have a huge influence on their songwriting for the next couple of years, and because one song on the album, "1941", must have resonated particularly deeply with Lennon right at this moment -- an autobiographical song by Nilsson about how his father had left him and his mother when he was a small boy, and about his own fear that, as his first marriage broke down, he was repeating the pattern with his stepson Scott: [Excerpt: Nilsson, "1941"] The other major event of December 1967, rather overshadowed by the Magical Mystery Tour disaster the next day, was that on Christmas Day Paul McCartney and Jane Asher announced their engagement. A few days later, George Harrison flew to India. After John and Paul had had their outside film projects -- John starring in How I Won The War and Paul doing the soundtrack for The Family Way -- the other two Beatles more or less simultaneously did their own side project films, and again one acted while the other did a soundtrack. Both of these projects were in the rather odd subgenre of psychedelic shambolic comedy film that sprang up in the mid sixties, a subgenre that produced a lot of fascinating films, though rather fewer good ones. Indeed, both of them were in the subsubgenre of shambolic psychedelic *sex* comedies. In Ringo's case, he had a small role in the film Candy, which was based on the novel we mentioned in the last episode, co-written by Terry Southern, which was in itself a loose modern rewriting of Voltaire's Candide. Unfortunately, like such other classics of this subgenre as Anthony Newley's Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness?, Candy has dated *extremely* badly, and unless you find repeated scenes of sexual assault and rape, ethnic stereotypes, and jokes about deformity and disfigurement to be an absolute laugh riot, it's not a film that's worth seeking out, and Starr's part in it is not a major one. Harrison's film was of the same basic genre -- a film called Wonderwall about a mad scientist who discovers a way to see through the walls of his apartment, and gets to see a photographer taking sexy photographs of a young woman named Penny Lane, played by Jane Birkin: [Excerpt: Some Wonderwall film dialogue ripped from the Blu-Ray] Wonderwall would, of course, later inspire the title of a song by Oasis, and that's what the film is now best known for, but it's a less-unwatchable film than Candy, and while still problematic it's less so. Which is something. Harrison had been the Beatle with least involvement in Magical Mystery Tour -- McCartney had been the de facto director, Starr had been the lead character and the only one with much in the way of any acting to do, and Lennon had written the film's standout scene and its best song, and had done a little voiceover narration. Harrison, by contrast, barely has anything to do in the film apart from the one song he contributed, "Blue Jay Way", and he said of the project “I had no idea what was happening and maybe I didn't pay enough attention because my problem, basically, was that I was in another world, I didn't really belong; I was just an appendage.” He'd expressed his discomfort to his friend Joe Massot, who was about to make his first feature film. Massot had got to know Harrison during the making of his previous film, Reflections on Love, a mostly-silent short which had starred Harrison's sister-in-law Jenny Boyd, and which had been photographed by Robert Freeman, who had been the photographer for the Beatles' album covers from With the Beatles through Rubber Soul, and who had taken most of the photos that Klaus Voorman incorporated into the cover of Revolver (and whose professional association with the Beatles seemed to come to an end around the same time he discovered that Lennon had been having an affair with his wife). Massot asked Harrison to write the music for the film, and told Harrison he would have complete free rein to make whatever music he wanted, so long as it fit the timing of the film, and so Harrison decided to create a mixture of Western rock music and the Indian music he loved. Harrison started recording the music at the tail end of 1967, with sessions with several London-based Indian musicians and John Barham, an orchestrator who had worked with Ravi Shankar on Shankar's collaborations with Western musicians, including the Alice in Wonderland soundtrack we talked about in the "All You Need is Love" episode. For the Western music, he used the Remo Four, a Merseybeat group who had been on the scene even before the Beatles, and which contained a couple of classmates of Paul McCartney, but who had mostly acted as backing musicians for other artists. They'd backed Johnny Sandon, the former singer with the Searchers, on a couple of singles, before becoming the backing band for Tommy Quickly, a NEMS artist who was unsuccessful despite starting his career with a Lennon/McCartney song, "Tip of My Tongue": [Excerpt: Tommy Quickly, "Tip of My Tongue"] The Remo Four would later, after a lineup change, become Ashton, Gardner and Dyke, who would become one-hit wonders in the seventies, and during the Wonderwall sessions they recorded a song that went unreleased at the time, and which would later go on to be rerecorded by Ashton, Gardner, and Dyke. "In the First Place" also features Harrison on backing vocals and possibly guitar, and was not submitted for the film because Harrison didn't believe that Massot wanted any vocal tracks, but the recording was later discovered and used in a revised director's cut of the film in the nineties: [Excerpt: The Remo Four, "In the First Place"] But for the most part the Remo Four were performing instrumentals written by Harrison. They weren't the only Western musicians performing on the sessions though -- Peter Tork of the Monkees dropped by these sessions and recorded several short banjo solos, which were used in the film soundtrack but not in the soundtrack album (presumably because Tork was contracted to another label): [Excerpt: Peter Tork, "Wonderwall banjo solo"] Another musician who was under contract to another label was Eric Clapton, who at the time was playing with The Cream, and who vaguely knew Harrison and so joined in for the track "Ski-ing", playing lead guitar under the cunning, impenetrable, pseudonym "Eddie Clayton", with Harrison on sitar, Starr on drums, and session guitarist Big Jim Sullivan on bass: [Excerpt: George Harrison, "Ski-ing"] But the bulk of the album was recorded in EMI's studios in the city that is now known as Mumbai but at the time was called Bombay. The studio facilities in India had up to that point only had a mono tape recorder, and Bhaskar Menon, one of the top executives at EMI's Indian division and later the head of EMI music worldwide, personally brought the first stereo tape recorder to the studio to aid in Harrison's recording. The music was all composed by Harrison and performed by the Indian musicians, and while Harrison was composing in an Indian mode, the musicians were apparently fascinated by how Western it sounded to them: [Excerpt: George Harrison, "Microbes"] While he was there, Harrison also got the instrumentalists to record another instrumental track, which wasn't to be used for the film: [Excerpt: George Harrison, "The Inner Light (instrumental)"] That track would, instead, become part of what was to be Harrison's first composition to make a side of a Beatles single. After John and George had appeared on the David Frost show talking about the Maharishi, in September 1967, George had met a lecturer in Sanskrit named Juan Mascaró, who wrote to Harrison enclosing a book he'd compiled of translations of religious texts, telling him he'd admired "Within You Without You" and thought it would be interesting if Harrison set something from the Tao Te Ching to music. He suggested a text that, in his translation, read: "Without going out of my door I can know all things on Earth Without looking out of my window I can know the ways of heaven For the farther one travels, the less one knows The sage, therefore Arrives without travelling Sees all without looking Does all without doing" Harrison took that text almost verbatim, though he created a second verse by repeating the first few lines with "you" replacing "I" -- concerned that listeners might think he was just talking about himself, and wouldn't realise it was a more general statement -- and he removed the "the sage, therefore" and turned the last few lines into imperative commands rather than declarative statements: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "The Inner Light"] The song has come in for some criticism over the years as being a little Orientalist, because in critics' eyes it combines Chinese philosophy with Indian music, as if all these things are equally "Eastern" and so all the same really. On the other hand there's a good argument that an English songwriter taking a piece of writing written in Chinese and translated into English by a Spanish man and setting it to music inspired by Indian musical modes is a wonderful example of cultural cross-pollination. As someone who's neither Chinese nor Indian I wouldn't want to take a stance on it, but clearly the other Beatles were impressed by it -- they put it out as the B-side to their next single, even though the only Beatles on it are Harrison and McCartney, with the latter adding a small amount of harmony vocal: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "The Inner Light"] And it wasn't because the group were out of material. They were planning on going to Rishikesh to study with the Maharishi, and wanted to get a single out for release while they were away, and so in one week they completed the vocal overdubs on "The Inner Light" and recorded three other songs, two by John and one by Paul. All three of the group's songwriters brought in songs that were among their best. John's first contribution was a song whose lyrics he later described as possibly the best he ever wrote, "Across the Universe". He said the lyrics were “purely inspirational and were given to me as boom! I don't own it, you know; it came through like that … Such an extraordinary meter and I can never repeat it! It's not a matter of craftsmanship, it wrote itself. It drove me out of bed. I didn't want to write it … It's like being possessed, like a psychic or a medium.” But while Lennon liked the song, he was never happy with the recording of it. They tried all sorts of things to get the sound he heard in his head, including bringing in some fans who were hanging around outside to sing backing vocals. He said of the track "I was singing out of tune and instead of getting a decent choir, we got fans from outside, Apple Scruffs or whatever you call them. They came in and were singing all off-key. Nobody was interested in doing the tune originally.” [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Across the Universe"] The "jai guru deva" chorus there is the first reference to the teachings of the Maharishi in one of the Beatles' records -- Guru Dev was the Maharishi's teacher, and the phrase "Jai guru dev" is a Sanskrit one which I've seen variously translated as "victory to the great teacher", and "hail to the greatness within you". Lennon would say shortly before his death “The Beatles didn't make a good record out of it. I think subconsciously sometimes we – I say ‘we' though I think Paul did it more than the rest of us – Paul would sort of subconsciously try and destroy a great song … Usually we'd spend hours doing little detailed cleaning-ups of Paul's songs, when it came to mine, especially if it was a great song like ‘Strawberry Fields' or ‘Across The Universe', somehow this atmosphere of looseness and casualness and experimentation would creep in … It was a _lousy_ track of a great song and I was so disappointed by it …The guitars are out of tune and I'm singing out of tune because I'm psychologically destroyed and nobody's supporting me or helping me with it, and the song was never done properly.” Of course, this is only Lennon's perception, and it's one that the other participants would disagree with. George Martin, in particular, was always rather hurt by the implication that Lennon's songs had less attention paid to them, and he would always say that the problem was that Lennon in the studio would always say "yes, that's great", and only later complain that it hadn't been what he wanted. No doubt McCartney did put in more effort on his own songs than on Lennon's -- everyone has a bias towards their own work, and McCartney's only human -- but personally I suspect that a lot of the problem comes down to the two men having very different personalities. McCartney had very strong ideas about his own work and would drive the others insane with his nitpicky attention to detail. Lennon had similarly strong ideas, but didn't have the attention span to put the time and effort in to force his vision on others, and didn't have the technical knowledge to express his ideas in words they'd understand. He expected Martin and the other Beatles to work miracles, and they did -- but not the miracles he would have worked. That track was, rather than being chosen for the next single, given to Spike Milligan, who happened to be visiting the studio and was putting together an album for the environmental charity the World Wildlife Fund. The album was titled "No One's Gonna Change Our World": [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Across the Universe"] That track is historic in another way -- it would be the last time that George Harrison would play sitar on a Beatles record, and it effectively marks the end of the period of psychedelia and Indian influence that had started with "Norwegian Wood" three years earlier, and which many fans consider their most creative period. Indeed, shortly after the recording, Harrison would give up the sitar altogether and stop playing it. He loved sitar music as much as he ever had, and he still thought that Indian classical music spoke to him in ways he couldn't express, and he continued to be friends with Ravi Shankar for the rest of his life, and would only become more interested in Indian religious thought. But as he spent time with Shankar he realised he would never be as good on the sitar as he hoped. He said later "I thought, 'Well, maybe I'm better off being a pop singer-guitar-player-songwriter – whatever-I'm-supposed-to-be' because I've seen a thousand sitar-players in India who are twice as better as I'll ever be. And only one of them Ravi thought was going to be a good player." We don't have a precise date for when it happened -- I suspect it was in June 1968, so a few months after the "Across the Universe" recording -- but Shankar told Harrison that rather than try to become a master of a music that he hadn't encountered until his twenties, perhaps he should be making the music that was his own background. And as Harrison put it "I realised that was riding my bike down a street in Liverpool and hearing 'Heartbreak Hotel' coming out of someone's house.": [Excerpt: Elvis Presley, "Heartbreak Hotel"] In early 1968 a lot of people seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as if Christmas 1967 had been the flick of a switch and instead of whimsy and ornamentation, the thing to do was to make music that was influenced by early rock and roll. In the US the Band and Bob Dylan were making music that was consciously shorn of all studio experimentation, while in the UK there was a revival of fifties rock and roll. In April 1968 both "Peggy Sue" and "Rock Around the Clock" reentered the top forty in the UK, and the Who were regularly including "Summertime Blues" in their sets. Fifties nostalgia, which would make occasional comebacks for at least the next forty years, was in its first height, and so it's not surprising that Paul McCartney's song, "Lady Madonna", which became the A-side of the next single, has more than a little of the fifties about it. Of course, the track isn't *completely* fifties in its origins -- one of the inspirations for the track seems to have been the Rolling Stones' then-recent hit "Let's Spend The Night Together": [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "Let's Spend the Night Together"] But the main source for the song's music -- and for the sound of the finished record -- seems to have been Johnny Parker's piano part on Humphrey Lyttleton's "Bad Penny Blues", a hit single engineered by Joe Meek in the fifties: [Excerpt: Humphrey Lyttleton, "Bad Penny Blues"] That song seems to have been on the group's mind for a while, as a working title for "With a Little Help From My Friends" had at one point been "Bad Finger Blues" -- a title that would later give the name to a band on Apple. McCartney took Parker's piano part as his inspiration, and as he later put it “‘Lady Madonna' was me sitting down at the piano trying to write a bluesy boogie-woogie thing. I got my left hand doing an arpeggio thing with the chord, an ascending boogie-woogie left hand, then a descending right hand. I always liked that, the juxtaposition of a line going down meeting a line going up." [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Lady Madonna"] That idea, incidentally, is an interesting reversal of what McCartney had done on "Hello, Goodbye", where the bass line goes down while the guitar moves up -- the two lines moving away from each other: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Hello Goodbye"] Though that isn't to say there's no descending bass in "Lady Madonna" -- the bridge has a wonderful sequence where the bass just *keeps* *descending*: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Lady Madonna"] Lyrically, McCartney was inspired by a photo in National Geographic of a woman in Malaysia, captioned “Mountain Madonna: with one child at her breast and another laughing into her face, sees her quality of life threatened.” But as he put it “The people I was brought up amongst were often Catholic; there are lots of Catholics in Liverpool because of the Irish connection and they are often religious. When they have a baby I think they see a big connection between themselves and the Virgin Mary with her baby. So the original concept was the Virgin Mary but it quickly became symbolic of every woman; the Madonna image but as applied to ordinary working class woman. It's really a tribute to the mother figure, it's a tribute to women.” Musically though, the song was more a tribute to the fifties -- while the inspiration had been a skiffle hit by Humphrey Lyttleton, as soon as McCartney started playing it he'd thought of Fats Domino, and the lyric reflects that to an extent -- just as Domino's "Blue Monday" details the days of the week for a weary working man who only gets to enjoy himself on Saturday night, "Lady Madonna"'s lyrics similarly look at the work a mother has to do every day -- though as McCartney later noted "I was writing the words out to learn it for an American TV show and I realised I missed out Saturday ... So I figured it must have been a real night out." The vocal was very much McCartney doing a Domino impression -- something that wasn't lost on Fats, who cut his own version of the track later that year: [Excerpt: Fats Domino, "Lady Madonna"] The group were so productive at this point, right before the journey to India, that they actually cut another song *while they were making a video for "Lady Madonna"*. They were booked into Abbey Road to film themselves performing the song so it could be played on Top of the Pops while they were away, but instead they decided to use the time to cut a new song -- John had a partially-written song, "Hey Bullfrog", which was roughly the same tempo as "Lady Madonna", so they could finish that up and then re-edit the footage to match the record. The song was quickly finished and became "Hey Bulldog": [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Hey Bulldog"] One of Lennon's best songs from this period, "Hey Bulldog" was oddly chosen only to go on the soundtrack of Yellow Submarine. Either the band didn't think much of it because it had come so easily, or it was just assigned to the film because they were planning on being away for several months and didn't have any other projects they were working on. The extent of the group's contribution to the film was minimal – they were not very hands-on, and the film, which was mostly done as an attempt to provide a third feature film for their United Artists contract without them having to do any work, was made by the team that had done the Beatles cartoon on American TV. There's some evidence that they had a small amount of input in the early story stages, but in general they saw the cartoon as an irrelevance to them -- the only things they contributed were the four songs "All Together Now", "It's All Too Much", "Hey Bulldog" and "Only a Northern Song", and a brief filmed appearance for the very end of the film, recorded in January: [Excerpt: Yellow Submarine film end] McCartney also took part in yet another session in early February 1968, one produced by Peter Asher, his fiancee's brother, and former singer with Peter and Gordon. Asher had given up on being a pop star and was trying to get into the business side of music, and he was starting out as a producer, producing a single by Paul Jones, the former lead singer of Manfred Mann. The A-side of the single, "And the Sun Will Shine", was written by the Bee Gees, the band that Robert Stigwood was managing: [Excerpt: Paul Jones, "And the Sun Will Shine"] While the B-side was an original by Jones, "The Dog Presides": [Excerpt: Paul Jones, "The Dog Presides"] Those tracks featured two former members of the Yardbirds, Jeff Beck and Paul Samwell-Smith, on guitar and bass, and Nicky Hopkins on piano. Asher asked McCartney to play drums on both sides of the single, saying later "I always thought he was a great, underrated drummer." McCartney was impressed by Asher's production, and asked him to get involved with the new Apple Records label that would be set up when the group returned from India. Asher eventually became head of A&R for the label. And even before "Lady Madonna" was mixed, the Beatles were off to India. Mal Evans, their roadie, went ahead with all their luggage on the fourteenth of February, so he could sort out transport for them on the other end, and then John and George followed on the fifteenth, with their wives Pattie and Cynthia and Pattie's sister Jenny (John and Cynthia's son Julian had been left with his grandmother while they went -- normally Cynthia wouldn't abandon Julian for an extended period of time, but she saw the trip as a way to repair their strained marriage). Paul and Ringo followed four days later, with Ringo's wife Maureen and Paul's fiancee Jane Asher. The retreat in Rishikesh was to become something of a celebrity affair. Along with the Beatles came their friend the singer-songwriter Donovan, and Donovan's friend and songwriting partner, whose name I'm not going to say here because it's a slur for Romani people, but will be known to any Donovan fans. Donovan at this point was also going through changes. Like the Beatles, he was largely turning away from drug use and towards meditation, and had recently written his hit single "There is a Mountain" based around a saying from Zen Buddhism: [Excerpt: Donovan, "There is a Mountain"] That was from his double-album A Gift From a Flower to a Garden, which had come out in December 1967. But also like John and Paul he was in the middle of the breakdown of a long-term relationship, and while he would remain with his then-partner until 1970, and even have another child with her, he was secretly in love with another woman. In fact he was secretly in love with two other women. One of them, Brian Jones' ex-girlfriend Linda, had moved to LA, become the partner of the singer Gram Parsons, and had appeared in the documentary You Are What You Eat with the Band and Tiny Tim. She had fallen out of touch with Donovan, though she would later become his wife. Incidentally, she had a son to Brian Jones who had been abandoned by his rock-star father -- the son's name is Julian. The other woman with whom Donovan was in love was Jenny Boyd, the sister of George Harrison's wife Pattie. Jenny at the time was in a relationship with Alexis Mardas, a TV repairman and huckster who presented himself as an electronics genius to the Beatles, who nicknamed him Magic Alex, and so she was unavailable, but Donovan had written a song about her, released as a single just before they all went to Rishikesh: [Excerpt: Donovan, "Jennifer Juniper"] Donovan considered himself and George Harrison to be on similar spiritual paths and called Harrison his "spirit-brother", though Donovan was more interested in Buddhism, which Harrison considered a corruption of the more ancient Hinduism, and Harrison encouraged Donovan to read Autobiography of a Yogi. It's perhaps worth noting that Donovan's father had a different take on the subject though, saying "You're not going to study meditation in India, son, you're following that wee lassie Jenny" Donovan and his friend weren't the only other celebrities to come to Rishikesh. The actor Mia Farrow, who had just been through a painful divorce from Frank Sinatra, and had just made Rosemary's Baby, a horror film directed by Roman Polanski with exteriors shot at the Dakota building in New York, arrived with her sister Prudence. Also on the trip was Paul Horn, a jazz saxophonist who had played with many of the greats of jazz, not least of them Duke Ellington, whose Sweet Thursday Horn had played alto sax on: [Excerpt: Duke Ellington, "Zweet Zursday"] Horn was another musician who had been inspired to investigate Indian spirituality and music simultaneously, and the previous year he had recorded an album, "In India," of adaptations of ragas, with Ravi Shankar and Alauddin Khan: [Excerpt: Paul Horn, "Raga Vibhas"] Horn would go on to become one of the pioneers of what would later be termed "New Age" music, combining jazz with music from various non-Western traditions. Horn had also worked as a session musician, and one of the tracks he'd played on was "I Know There's an Answer" from the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds album: [Excerpt: The Beach Boys, "I Know There's an Answer"] Mike Love, who co-wrote that track and is one of the lead singers on it, was also in Rishikesh. While as we'll see not all of the celebrities on the trip would remain practitioners of Transcendental Meditation, Love would be profoundly affected by the trip, and remains a vocal proponent of TM to this day. Indeed, his whole band at the time were heavily into TM. While Love was in India, the other Beach Boys were working on the Friends album without him -- Love only appears on four tracks on that album -- and one of the tracks they recorded in his absence was titled "Transcendental Meditation": [Excerpt: The Beach Boys, "Transcendental Meditation"] But the trip would affect Love's songwriting, as it would affect all of the musicians there. One of the few songs on the Friends album on which Love appears is "Anna Lee, the Healer", a song which is lyrically inspired by the trip in the most literal sense, as it's about a masseuse Love met in Rishikesh: [Excerpt: The Beach Boys, "Anna Lee, the Healer"] The musicians in the group all influenced and inspired each other as is likely to happen in such circumstances. Sometimes, it would be a matter of trivial joking, as when the Beatles decided to perform an off-the-cuff song about Guru Dev, and did it in the Beach Boys style: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Spiritual Regeneration"] And that turned partway through into a celebration of Love for his birthday: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Spiritual Regeneration"] Decades later, Love would return the favour, writing a song about Harrison and their time together in Rishikesh. Like Donovan, Love seems to have considered Harrison his "spiritual brother", and he titled the song "Pisces Brothers": [Excerpt: Mike Love, "Pisces Brothers"] The musicians on the trip were also often making suggestions to each other about songs that would become famous for them. The musicians had all brought acoustic guitars, apart obviously from Ringo, who got a set of tabla drums when George ordered some Indian instruments to be delivered. George got a sitar, as at this point he hadn't quite given up on the instrument, and he gave Donovan a tamboura. Donovan started playing a melody on the tamboura, which is normally a drone instrument, inspired by the Scottish folk music he had grown up with, and that became his "Hurdy-Gurdy Man": [Excerpt: Donovan, "Hurdy Gurdy Man"] Harrison actually helped him with the song, writing a final verse inspired by the Maharishi's teachings, but in the studio Donovan's producer Mickie Most told him to cut the verse because the song was overlong, which apparently annoyed Harrison. Donovan includes that verse in his live performances of the song though -- usually while doing a fairly terrible impersonation of Harrison: [Excerpt: Donovan, "Hurdy Gurdy Man (live)"] And similarly, while McCartney was working on a song pastiching Chuck Berry and the Beach Boys, but singing about the USSR rather than the USA, Love suggested to him that for a middle-eight he might want to sing about the girls in the various Soviet regions: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Back in the USSR"] As all the guitarists on the retreat only had acoustic instruments, they were very keen to improve their acoustic playing, and they turned to Donovan, who unlike the rest of them was primarily an acoustic player, and one from a folk background. Donovan taught them the rudiments of Travis picking, the guitar style we talked about way back in the episodes on the Everly Brothers, as well as some of the tunings that had been introduced to British folk music by Davey Graham, giving them a basic grounding in the principles of English folk-baroque guitar, a style that had developed over the previous few years. Donovan has said in his autobiography that Lennon picked the technique up quickly (and that Harrison had already learned Travis picking from Chet Atkins records) but that McCartney didn't have the application to learn the style, though he picked up bits. That seems very unlike anything else I've read anywhere about Lennon and McCartney -- no-one has ever accused Lennon of having a surfeit of application -- and reading Donovan's book he seems to dislike McCartney and like Lennon and Harrison, so possibly that enters into it. But also, it may just be that Lennon was more receptive to Donovan's style at the time. According to McCartney, even before going to Rishikesh Lennon had been in a vaguely folk-music and country mode, and the small number of tapes he'd brought with him to Rishikesh included Buddy Holly, Dylan, and the progressive folk band The Incredible String Band, whose music would be a big influence on both Lennon and McCartney for the next year: [Excerpt: The Incredible String Band, "First Girl I Loved"] According to McCartney Lennon also brought "a tape the singer Jake Thackray had done for him... He was one of the people we bumped into at Abbey Road. John liked his stuff, which he'd heard on television. Lots of wordplay and very suggestive, so very much up John's alley. I was fascinated by his unusual guitar style. John did ‘Happiness Is A Warm Gun' as a Jake Thackray thing at one point, as I recall.” Thackray was a British chansonnier, who sang sweetly poignant but also often filthy songs about Yorkshire life, and his humour in particular will have appealed to Lennon. There's a story of Lennon meeting Thackray in Abbey Road and singing the whole of Thackray's song "The Statues", about two drunk men fighting a male statue to defend the honour of a female statue, to him: [Excerpt: Jake Thackray, "The Statues"] Given this was the music that Lennon was listening to, it's unsurprising that he was more receptive to Donovan's lessons, and the new guitar style he learned allowed him to expand his songwriting, at precisely the same time he was largely clean of drugs for the first time in several years, and he started writing some of the best songs he would ever write, often using these new styles: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Julia"] That song is about Lennon's dead mother -- the first time he ever addressed her directly in a song, though it would be far from the last -- but it's also about someone else. That phrase "Ocean child" is a direct translation of the Japanese name "Yoko". We've talked about Yoko Ono a bit in recent episodes, and even briefly in a previous Beatles episode, but it's here that she really enters the story of the Beatles. Unfortunately, exactly *how* her relationship with John Lennon, which was to become one of the great legendary love stories in rock and roll history, actually started is the subject of some debate. Both of them were married when they first got together, and there have also been suggestions that Ono was more interested in McCartney than in Lennon at first -- suggestions which everyone involved has denied, and those denials have the ring of truth about them, but if that was the case it would also explain some of Lennon's more perplexing behaviour over the next year. By all accounts there was a certain amount of finessing of the story th
Episode 170 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Astral Weeks", the early solo career of Van Morrison, and the death of Bert Berns. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a forty-minute bonus episode available, on "Stoned Soul Picnic" by Laura Nyro. 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/ Errata At one point I, ridiculously, misspeak the name of Charles Mingus' classic album. Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is not about dinner ladies. Also, I say Warren Smith Jr is on "Slim Slow Slider" when I meant to say Richard Davis (Smith is credited in some sources, but I only hear acoustic guitar, bass, and soprano sax on the finished track). Resources As usual, I've created Mixcloud playlists, with full versions of all the songs excerpted in this episode. As there are so many Van Morrison songs in this episode, the Mixcloud is split into three parts, one, two, and three. The information about Bert Berns comes from Here Comes the Night: The Dark Soul of Bert Berns and the Dirty Business of Rhythm and Blues by Joel Selvin. I've used several biographies of Van Morrison. Van Morrison: Into the Music by Ritchie Yorke is so sycophantic towards Morrison that the word “hagiography” would be, if anything, an understatement. Van Morrison: No Surrender by Johnny Rogan, on the other hand, is the kind of book that talks in the introduction about how the author has had to avoid discussing certain topics because of legal threats from the subject. Howard deWitt's Van Morrison: Astral Weeks to Stardom is over-thorough in the way some self-published books are, while Clinton Heylin's Can You Feel the Silence? is probably the best single volume on the artist. Information on Woodstock comes from Small Town Talk by Barney Hoskyns. Ryan Walsh's Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 is about more than Astral Weeks, but does cover Morrison's period in and around Boston in more detail than anything else. The album Astral Weeks is worth hearing in its entirety. Not all of the music on The Authorized Bang Collection is as listenable, but it's the most complete collection available of everything Morrison recorded for Bang. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before we start, a quick warning -- this episode contains discussion of organised crime activity, and of sudden death. It also contains excerpts of songs which hint at attraction to underage girls and discuss terminal illness. If those subjects might upset you, you might want to read the transcript rather than listen to the episode. Anyway, on with the show. Van Morrison could have been the co-writer of "Piece of My Heart". Bert Berns was one of the great collaborators in the music business, and almost every hit he ever had was co-written, and he was always on the lookout for new collaborators, and in 1967 he was once again working with Van Morrison, who he'd worked with a couple of years earlier when Morrison was still the lead singer of Them. Towards the beginning of 1967 he had come up with a chorus, but no verse. He had the hook, "Take another little piece of my heart" -- Berns was writing a lot of songs with "heart" in the title at the time -- and wanted Morrison to come up with a verse to go with it. Van Morrison declined. He wasn't interested in writing pop songs, or in collaborating with other writers, and so Berns turned to one of his regular collaborators, Jerry Ragavoy, and it was Ragavoy who added the verses to one of the biggest successes of Berns' career: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] The story of how Van Morrison came to make the album that's often considered his masterpiece is intimately tied up with the story we've been telling in the background for several episodes now, the story of Atlantic Records' sale to Warners, and the story of Bert Berns' departure from Atlantic. For that reason, some parts of the story I'm about to tell will be familiar to those of you who've been paying close attention to the earlier episodes, but as always I'm going to take you from there to somewhere we've never been before. In 1962, Bert Berns was a moderately successful songwriter, who had written or co-written songs for many artists, especially for artists on Atlantic Records. He'd written songs for Atlantic artists like LaVern Baker, and when Atlantic's top pop producers Leiber and Stoller started to distance themselves from the label in the early sixties, he had moved into production as well, writing and producing Solomon Burke's big hit "Cry to Me": [Excerpt: Solomon Burke, "Cry to Me"] He was the producer and writer or co-writer of most of Burke's hits from that point forward, but at first he was still a freelance producer, and also produced records for Scepter Records, like the Isley Brothers' version of "Twist and Shout", another song he'd co-written, that one with Phil Medley. And as a jobbing songwriter, of course his songs were picked up by other producers, so Leiber and Stoller produced a version of his song "Tell Him" for the Exciters on United Artists: [Excerpt: The Exciters, "Tell Him"] Berns did freelance work for Leiber and Stoller as well as the other people he was working for. For example, when their former protege Phil Spector released his hit version of "Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah", they got Berns to come up with a knockoff arrangement of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?", released as by Baby Jane and the Rockabyes, with a production credit "Produced by Leiber and Stoller, directed by Bert Berns": [Excerpt: Baby Jane and the Rockabyes, "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?"] And when Leiber and Stoller stopped producing work for United Artists, Berns took over some of the artists they'd been producing for the label, like Marv Johnson, as well as producing his own new artists, like Garnet Mimms and the Enchanters, who had been discovered by Berns' friend Jerry Ragovoy, with whom he co-wrote their "Cry Baby": [Excerpt: Garnet Mimms and the Enchanters, "Cry Baby"] Berns was an inveterate collaborator. He was one of the few people to get co-writing credits with Leiber and Stoller, and he would collaborate seemingly with everyone who spoke to him for five minutes. He would also routinely reuse material, cutting the same songs time and again with different artists, knowing that a song must be a hit for *someone*. One of his closest collaborators was Jerry Wexler, who also became one of his best friends, even though one of their earliest interactions had been when Wexler had supervised Phil Spector's production of Berns' "Twist and Shout" for the Top Notes, a record that Berns had thought had butchered the song. Berns was, in his deepest bones, a record man. Listening to the records that Berns made, there's a strong continuity in everything he does. There's a love there of simplicity -- almost none of his records have more than three chords. He loved Latin sounds and rhythms -- a love he shared with other people working in Brill Building R&B at the time, like Leiber and Stoller and Spector -- and great voices in emotional distress. There's a reason that the records he produced for Solomon Burke were the first R&B records to be labelled "soul". Berns was one of those people for whom feel and commercial success are inextricable. He was an artist -- the records he made were powerfully expressive -- but he was an artist for whom the biggest validation was *getting a hit*. Only a small proportion of the records he made became hits, but enough did that in the early sixties he was a name that could be spoken of in the same breath as Leiber and Stoller, Spector, and Bacharach and David. And Atlantic needed a record man. The only people producing hits for the label at this point were Leiber and Stoller, and they were in the process of stopping doing freelance work and setting up their own label, Red Bird, as we talked about in the episode on the Shangri-Las. And anyway, they wanted more money than they were getting, and Jerry Wexler was never very keen on producers wanting money that could have gone to the record label. Wexler decided to sign Bert Berns up as a staff producer for Atlantic towards the end of 1963, and by May 1964 it was paying off. Atlantic hadn't been having hits, and now Berns had four tracks he wrote and produced for Atlantic on the Hot One Hundred, of which the highest charting was "My Girl Sloopy" by the Vibrations: [Excerpt: The Vibrations, "My Girl Sloopy"] Even higher on the charts though was the Beatles' version of "Twist and Shout". That record, indeed, had been successful enough in the UK that Berns had already made exploratory trips to the UK and produced records for Dick Rowe at Decca, a partnership we heard about in the episode on "Here Comes the Night". Berns had made partnerships there which would have vast repercussions for the music industry in both countries, and one of them was with the arranger Mike Leander, who was the uncredited arranger for the Drifters session for "Under the Boardwalk", a song written by Artie Resnick and Kenny Young and produced by Berns, recorded the day after the group's lead singer Rudy Lewis died of an overdose: [Excerpt: The Drifters, "Under the Boardwalk"] Berns was making hits on a regular basis by mid-1964, and the income from the label's new success allowed Jerry Wexler and the Ertegun brothers to buy out their other partners -- Ahmet Ertegun's old dentist, who had put up some of the initial money, and Miriam Bienstock, the ex-wife of their initial partner Herb Abramson, who'd got Abramson's share in the company after the divorce, and who was now married to Freddie Bienstock of Hill and Range publishing. Wexler and the Erteguns now owned the whole label. Berns also made regular trips to the UK to keep up his work with British musicians, and in one of those trips, as we heard in the episode on "Here Comes the Night", he produced several tracks for the group Them, including that track, written by Berns: [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"] And a song written by the group's lead singer Van Morrison, "Gloria": [Excerpt: Them, "Gloria"] But Berns hadn't done much other work with them, because he had a new project. Part of the reason that Wexler and the Erteguns had gained total control of Atlantic was because, in a move pushed primarily by Wexler, they were looking at selling it. They'd already tried to merge with Leiber and Stoller's Red Bird Records, but lost the opportunity after a disastrous meeting, but they were in negotiations with several other labels, negotiations which would take another couple of years to bear fruit. But they weren't planning on getting out of the record business altogether. Whatever deal they made, they'd remain with Atlantic, but they were also planning on starting another label. Bert Berns had seen how successful Leiber and Stoller were with Red Bird, and wanted something similar. Wexler and the Erteguns didn't want to lose their one hit-maker, so they came up with an offer that would benefit all of them. Berns' publishing contract had just ended, so they would set up a new publishing company, WEB IV, named after the initials Wexler, Ertegun, and Berns, and the fact that there were four of them. Berns would own fifty percent of that, and the other three would own the other half. And they were going to start up a new label, with seventeen thousand dollars of the Atlantic partners' money. That label would be called Bang -- for Bert, Ahmet, Neshui, and Gerald -- and would be a separate company from Atlantic, so not affected by any sale. Berns would continue as a staff producer for Atlantic for now, but he'd have "his own" label, which he'd have a proper share in, and whether he was making hits for Atlantic or Bang, his partners would have a share of the profits. The first two records on Bang were "Shake and Jerk" by Billy Lamont, a track that they licensed from elsewhere and which didn't do much, and a more interesting track co-written by Berns. Bob Feldman, Richard Gottehrer, and Jerry Goldstein were Brill Building songwriters who had become known for writing "My Boyfriend's Back", a hit for the Angels, a couple of years earlier: [Excerpt: The Angels, "My Boyfriend's Back"] With the British invasion, the three of them had decided to create their own foreign beat group. As they couldn't do British accents, they pretended to be Australian, and as the Strangeloves -- named after the Stanley Kubrick film Dr Strangelove -- they released one flop single. They cut another single, a version of "Bo Diddley", but the label they released their initial record through didn't want it. They then took the record to Atlantic, where Jerry Wexler said that they weren't interested in releasing some white men singing "Bo Diddley". But Ahmet Ertegun suggested they bring the track to Bert Berns to see what he thought. Berns pointed out that if they changed the lyrics and melody, but kept the same backing track, they could claim the copyright in the resulting song themselves. He worked with them on a new lyric, inspired by the novel Candy, a satirical pornographic novel co-written by Terry Southern, who had also co-written the screenplay to Dr Strangelove. Berns supervised some guitar overdubs, and the result went to number eleven: [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"] Berns had two other songs on the hot one hundred when that charted, too -- Them's version of "Here Comes the Night", and the version of Van McCoy's song "Baby I'm Yours" he'd produced for Barbara Lewis. Three records on the charts on three different labels. But despite the sheer number of charting records he'd had, he'd never had a number one, until the Strangeloves went on tour. Before the tour they'd cut a version of "My Girl Sloopy" for their album -- Berns always liked to reuse material -- and they started performing the song on the tour. The Dave Clark Five, who they were supporting, told them it sounded like a hit and they were going to do their own version when they got home. Feldman, Gottehrer, and Goldstein decided *they* might as well have the hit with it as anyone else. Rather than put it out as a Strangeloves record -- their own record was still rising up the charts, and there's no reason to be your own competition -- they decided to get a group of teenage musicians who supported them on the last date of the tour to sing new vocals to the backing track from the Strangeloves album. The group had been called Rick and the Raiders, but they argued so much that the Strangeloves nicknamed them the Hatfields and the McCoys, and when their version of "My Girl Sloopy", retitled "Hang on Sloopy", came out, it was under the band name The McCoys: [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"] Berns was becoming a major success, and with major success in the New York music industry in the 1960s came Mafia involvement. We've talked a fair bit about Morris Levy's connection with the mob in many previous episodes, but mob influence was utterly pervasive throughout the New York part of the industry, and so for example Richard Gottehrer of the Strangeloves used to call Sonny Franzese of the Colombo crime family "Uncle John", they were so close. Franzese was big in the record business too, even after his conviction for bank robbery. Berns, unlike many of the other people in the industry, had no scruples at all about hanging out with Mafiosi. indeed his best friend in the mid sixties was Tommy Eboli, a member of the Genovese crime family who had been in the mob since the twenties, starting out working for "Lucky" Luciano. Berns was not himself a violent man, as far as anyone can tell, but he liked the glamour of hanging out with organised crime figures, and they liked hanging out with someone who was making so many hit records. And so while Leiber and Stoller, for example, ended up selling Red Bird Records to George Goldner for a single dollar in order to get away from the Mafiosi who were slowly muscling in on the label, Berns had no problems at all in keeping his own label going. Indeed, he would soon be doing so without the involvement of Atlantic Records. Berns' final work for Atlantic was in June 1966, when he cut a song he had co-written with Jeff Barry for the Drifters, inspired by the woman who would soon become Atlantic's biggest star: [Excerpt: The Drifters, "Aretha"] The way Berns told the story in public, there was no real bad blood between him, Wexler, and the Erteguns -- he'd just decided to go his own way, and he said “I will always be grateful to them for the help they've given me in getting Bang started,” The way Berns' wife would later tell the story, Jerry Wexler had suggested that rather than Berns owning fifty percent of Web IV, they should start to split everything four ways, and she had been horrified by this suggestion, kicked up a stink about it, and Wexler had then said that either Berns needed to buy the other three out, or quit and give them everything, and demanded Berns pay them three hundred thousand dollars. According to other people, Berns decided he wanted one hundred percent control of Web IV, and raised a breach of contract lawsuit against Atlantic, over the usual royalty non-payments that were endemic in the industry at that point. When Atlantic decided to fight the lawsuit rather than settle, Berns' mob friends got involved and threatened to break the legs of Wexler's fourteen-year-old daughter, and the mob ended up with full control of Bang records, while Berns had full control of his publishing company. Given later events, and in particular given the way Wexler talked about Berns until the day he died, with a vitriol that he never used about any of the other people he had business disputes with, it seems likely to me that the latter story is closer to the truth than the former. But most people involved weren't talking about the details of what went on, and so Berns still retained his relationships with many of the people in the business, not least of them Jeff Barry, so when Barry and Ellie Greenwich had a new potential star, it was Berns they thought to bring him to, even though the artist was white and Berns had recently given an interview saying that he wanted to work with more Black artists, because white artists simply didn't have soul. Barry and Greenwich's marriage was breaking up at the time, but they were still working together professionally, as we discussed in the episode on "River Deep, Mountain High", and they had been the main production team at Red Bird. But with Red Bird in terminal decline, they turned elsewhere when they found a potential major star after Greenwich was asked to sing backing vocals on one of his songwriting demos. They'd signed the new songwriter, Neil Diamond, to Leiber and Stoller's company Trio Music at first, but they soon started up their own company, Tallyrand Music, and signed Diamond to that, giving Diamond fifty percent of the company and keeping twenty-five percent each for themselves, and placed one of his songs with Jay and the Americans in 1965: [Excerpt: Jay and the Americans, "Sunday and Me"] That record made the top twenty, and had established Diamond as a songwriter, but he was still not a major performer -- he'd released one flop single on Columbia Records before meeting Barry and Greenwich. But they thought he had something, and Bert Berns agreed. Diamond was signed to Bang records, and Berns had a series of pre-production meetings with Barry and Greenwich before they took Diamond into the studio -- Barry and Greenwich were going to produce Diamond for Bang, as they had previously produced tracks for Red Bird, but they were going to shape the records according to Berns' aesthetic. The first single released from Diamond's first session, "Solitary Man", only made number fifty-five, but it was the first thing Diamond had recorded to make the Hot One Hundred at all: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Solitary Man"] The second single, though, was much more Bert Berns' sort of thing -- a three-chord song that sounded like it could have been written by Berns himself, especially after Barry and Greenwich had added the Latin-style horns that Berns loved so much. Indeed according to some sources, Berns did make a songwriting suggestion -- Diamond's song had apparently been called "Money Money", and Berns had thought that was a ridiculous title, and suggested calling it "Cherry Cherry" instead: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Cherry Cherry"] That became Diamond's first top ten hit. While Greenwich had been the one who had discovered Diamond, and Barry and Greenwich were the credited producers on all Diamond's records as a result, Diamond soon found himself collaborating far more with Barry than with Greenwich, so for example the first number one he wrote, for the Monkees rather than himself, ended up having its production just credited to Barry. That record used a backing track recorded in New York by the same set of musicians used on most Bang records, like Al Gorgoni on lead guitar and Russ Savakus on bass: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "I'm a Believer"] Neil Diamond was becoming a solid hit-maker, but he started rubbing up badly against Berns. Berns wanted hits and only hits, and Diamond thought of himself as a serious artist. The crisis came when two songs were under contention for Diamond's next single in late 1967, after he'd had a whole run of hits for the label. The song Diamond wanted to release, "Shilo", was deeply personal to him: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Shilo"] But Bert Berns had other ideas. "Shilo" didn't sound like a hit, and he knew a hit when he heard one. No, the clear next single, the only choice, was "Kentucky Woman": [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Kentucky Woman"] But Berns tried to compromise as best he could. Diamond's contract was up for renewal, and you don't want to lose someone who has had, as Diamond had at that point, five top twenty hits in a row, and who was also writing songs like "I'm a Believer" and "Red Red Wine". He told Diamond that he'd let "Shilo" come out as a single if Diamond signed an extension to his contract. Diamond said that not only was he not going to do that, he'd taken legal advice and discovered that there were problems with his contract which let him record for other labels -- the word "exclusive" had been missed out of the text, among other things. He wasn't going to be recording for Bang at all any more. The lawsuits over this would stretch out for a decade, and Diamond would eventually win, but the first few months were very, very difficult for Diamond. When he played the Bitter End, a club in New York, stink bombs were thrown into the audience. The Bitter End's manager was assaulted and severely beaten. Diamond moved his wife and child out of Manhattan, borrowed a gun, and after his last business meeting with Berns was heard talking about how he needed to contact the District Attorney and hire a bodyguard. Of the many threats that were issued against Diamond, though, the least disturbing was probably the threat Berns made to Diamond's career. Berns pointed out to Diamond in no uncertain terms that he didn't need Diamond anyway -- he already had someone he could replace Diamond with, another white male solo singer with a guitar who could churn out guaranteed hits. He had Van Morrison: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] When we left Van Morrison, Them had just split up due to the problems they had been having with their management team. Indeed, the problems Morrison was having with his managers seem curiously similar to the issues that Diamond was having with Bert Berns -- something that could possibly have been a warning sign to everyone involved, if any of them had known the full details of everyone else's situation. Sadly for all of them, none of them did. Them had had some early singles success, notably with the tracks Berns had produced for them, but Morrison's opinion of their second album, Them Again, was less than complimentary, and in general that album is mostly only remembered for the version of Bob Dylan's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue", which is one of those cover versions that inspires subsequent covers more than the original ever did: [Excerpt: Them, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"] Them had toured the US around the time of the release of that album, but that tour had been a disaster. The group had gained a reputation for incredible live shows, including performances at the Whisky A-Go-Go with the Doors and Captain Beefheart as their support acts, but during the tour Van Morrison had decided that Phil Solomon, the group's manager, was getting too much money -- Morrison had agreed to do the tour on a salary, rather than a percentage, but the tour had been more successful than he'd expected, and Solomon was making a great deal of money off the tour, money that Morrison believed rightfully belonged to him. The group started collecting the money directly from promoters, and got into legal trouble with Solomon as a result. The tour ended with the group having ten thousand dollars that Solomon believed -- quite possibly correctly -- that he was owed. Various gangsters whose acquaintance the group had made offered to have the problem taken care of, but they decided instead to come to a legal agreement -- they would keep the money, and in return Solomon, whose production company the group were signed to, would get to keep all future royalties from the Them tracks. This probably seemed a good idea at the time, when the idea of records earning royalties for sixty or more years into the future seemed ridiculous, but Morrison in particular came to regret the decision bitterly. The group played one final gig when they got back to Belfast, but then split up, though a version of the group led by the bass player Alan Henderson continued performing for a few years to no success. Morrison put together a band that played a handful of gigs under the name Them Again, with little success, but he already had his eyes set on a return to the US. In Morrison's eyes, Bert Berns had been the only person in the music industry who had really understood him, and the two worked well together. He had also fallen in love with an American woman, Janet Planet, and wanted to find some way to be with her. As Morrison said later “I had a couple of other offers but I thought this was the best one, seeing as I wanted to come to America anyway. I can't remember the exact details of the deal. It wasn't really that spectacular, money-wise, I don't think. But it was pretty hard to refuse from the point of view that I really respected Bert as a producer. I'd rather have worked with Bert than some other guy with a bigger record company. From that angle, it was spectacular because Bert was somebody that I wanted to work with.” There's little evidence that Morrison did have other offers -- he was already getting a reputation as someone who it was difficult to work with -- but he and Berns had a mutual respect, and on January the ninth, 1967, he signed a contract with Bang records. That contract has come in for a lot of criticism over the years, but it was actually, *by the standards in operation in the music business in 1967*, a reasonably fair one. The contract provided that, for a $2,500 a year advance, Bang would record twelve sides in the first year, with an option for up to fifty more that year, and options for up to four more years on the same terms. Bang had the full ownership of the masters and the right to do what they wanted with them. According to at least one biographer, Morrison added clauses requiring Bang to actually record the twelve sides a year, and to put out at least three singles and one album per year while the contract was in operation. He also added one other clause which seems telling -- "Company agrees that Company will not make any reference to the name THEM on phonograph records, or in advertising copy in connection with the recording of Artist." Morrison was, at first, extremely happy with Berns. The problems started with their first session: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl (takes 1-6)"] When Morrison had played the songs he was working on for Berns, Berns had remarked that they sounded great with just Morrison and his guitar, so Morrison was surprised when he got into the studio to find the whole standard New York session crew there -- the same group of session players who were playing for everyone from the Monkees to Laura Nyro, from Neil Diamond to the Shangri-Las -- along with the Sweet Inspirations to provide backing vocals. As he described it later "This fellow Bert, he made it the way he wanted to, and I accepted that he was producing it... I'd write a song and bring it into the group and we'd sit there and bash it around and that's all it was -- they weren't playing the songs, they were just playing whatever it was. They'd say 'OK, we got drums so let's put drums on it,' and they weren't thinking about the song, all they were thinking about was putting drums on it... But it was my song, and I had to watch it go down." The first song they cut was "Brown-Eyed Girl", a song which Morrison has said was originally a calypso, and was originally titled "Brown-skinned Girl", though he's differed in interviews as to whether Berns changed the lyric or if he just decided to sing it differently without thinking about it in the session. Berns turned "Brown-Eyed Girl" into a hit single, because that was what he tended to do with songs, and the result sounds a lot like the kind of record that Bang were releasing for Neil Diamond: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] Morrison has, in later years, expressed his distaste for what was done to the song, and in particular he's said that the backing vocal part by the Sweet Inspirations was added by Berns and he disliked it: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] Morrison has been very dismissive of "Brown-Eyed Girl" over the years, but he seems not to have disliked it at the time, and the song itself is one that has stood the test of time, and is often pointed to by other songwriters as a great example of the writer's craft. I remember reading one interview with Randy Newman -- sadly, while I thought it was in Paul Zollo's "Songwriters on Songwriting" I just checked that and it's not, so I can't quote it precisely -- in which he says that he often points to the line "behind the stadium with you" as a perfect piece of writing, because it's such a strangely specific detail that it convinces you that it actually happened, and that means you implicitly believe the rest of the song. Though it should be made very clear here that Morrison has always said, over and over again, that nothing in his songs is based directly on his own experiences, and that they're all products of his imagination and composites of people he's known. This is very important to note before we go any further, because "Brown-Eyed Girl" is one of many songs from this period in Morrison's career which imply that their narrator has an attraction to underage girls -- in this case he remembers "making love in the green grass" in the distant past, while he also says "saw you just the other day, my how you have grown", and that particular combination is not perhaps one that should be dwelt on too closely. But there is of course a very big difference between a songwriter treating a subject as something that is worth thinking about in the course of a song and writing about their own lives, and that can be seen on one of the other songs that Morrison recorded in these sessions, "T.B. Sheets": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "T.B. Sheets"] It seems very unlikely indeed that Van Morrison actually had a lover die of tuberculosis, as the lover in the song does, and while a lot of people seem convinced that it's autobiographical, simply because of the intensity of the performance (Morrison apparently broke down in tears after recording it), nobody has ever found anyone in Morrison's life who fits the story in the song, and he's always ridiculed such suggestions. What is true though is that "T.B. Sheets" is evidence against another claim that Morrison has made in the past - that on these initial sessions the eight songs recorded were meant to be the A and B sides of four singles and there was no plan of making an album. It is simply not plausible at all to suggest that "T.B. Sheets" -- a slow blues about terminal illness, that lasts nearly ten minutes -- was ever intended as a single. It wouldn't have even come close to fitting on one side of a forty-five. It was also presumably at this time that Berns brought up the topic of "Piece of My Heart". When Berns signed Erma Franklin, it was as a way of getting at Jerry Wexler, who had gone from being his closest friend to someone he wasn't on speaking terms with, by signing the sister of his new signing Aretha. Morrison, of course, didn't co-write it -- he'd already decided that he didn't play well with others -- but it's tempting to think about how the song might have been different had Morrison written it. The song in some ways seems a message to Wexler -- haven't you had enough from me already? -- but it's also notable how many songs Berns was writing with the word "heart" in the chorus, given that Berns knew he was on borrowed time from his own heart condition. As an example, around the same time he and Jerry Ragavoy co-wrote "Piece of My Heart", they also co-wrote another song, "Heart Be Still", a flagrant lift from "Peace Be Still" by Aretha Franklin's old mentor Rev. James Cleveland, which they cut with Lorraine Ellison: [Excerpt: Lorraine Ellison, "Heart Be Still"] Berns' heart condition had got much worse as a result of the stress from splitting with Atlantic, and he had started talking about maybe getting open-heart surgery, though that was still very new and experimental. One wonders how he must have felt listening to Morrison singing about watching someone slowly dying. Morrison has since had nothing but negative things to say about the sessions in March 1967, but at the time he seemed happy. He returned to Belfast almost straight away after the sessions, on the understanding that he'd be back in the US if "Brown-Eyed Girl" was a success. He wrote to Janet Planet in San Francisco telling her to listen to the radio -- she'd know if she heard "Brown-Eyed Girl" that he would be back on his way to see her. She soon did hear the song, and he was soon back in the US: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] By August, "Brown-Eyed Girl" had become a substantial hit, making the top ten, and Morrison was back in the States. He was starting to get less happy with Berns though. Bang had put out the eight tracks he'd recorded in March as an album, titled Blowin' Your Mind, and Morrison thought that the crass pseudo-psychedelia of the title, liner notes, and cover was very inappropriate -- Morrison has never been a heavy user of any drugs other than alcohol, and didn't particularly want to be associated with them. He also seems to have not realised that every track he recorded in those initial sessions would be on the album, which many people have called one of the great one-sided albums of all time -- side A, with "Brown-Eyed Girl", "He Ain't Give You None" and the extended "T.B. Sheets" tends to get far more love than side B, with five much lesser songs on it. Berns held a party for Morrison on a cruise around Manhattan, but it didn't go well -- when the performer Tiny Tim tried to get on board, Carmine "Wassel" DeNoia, a mobster friend of Berns' who was Berns' partner in a studio they'd managed to get from Atlantic as part of the settlement when Berns left, was so offended by Tim's long hair and effeminate voice and mannerisms that he threw him overboard into the harbour. DeNoia was meant to be Morrison's manager in the US, working with Berns, but he and Morrison didn't get on at all -- at one point DeNoia smashed Morrison's acoustic guitar over his head, and only later regretted the damage he'd done to a nice guitar. And Morrison and Berns weren't getting on either. Morrison went back into the studio to record four more songs for a follow-up to "Brown-Eyed Girl", but there was again a misunderstanding. Morrison thought he'd been promised that this time he could do his songs the way he wanted, but Berns was just frustrated that he wasn't coming up with another "Brown-Eyed Girl", but was instead coming up with slow songs about trans women. Berns overdubbed party noises and soul backing vocals onto "Madame George", possibly in an attempt to copy the Beach Boys' Party! album with its similar feel, but it was never going to be a "Barbara Ann": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Madame George (Bang version)"] In the end, Berns released one of the filler tracks from Blowin' Your Mind, "Ro Ro Rosey", as the next single, and it flopped. On December the twenty-ninth, Berns had a meeting with Neil Diamond, the meeting after which Diamond decided he needed to get a bodyguard. After that, he had a screaming row over the phone with Van Morrison, which made Berns ill with stress. The next day, he died of a heart attack. Berns' widow Ilene, who had only just given birth to a baby a couple of weeks earlier, would always blame Morrison for pushing her husband over the edge. Neither Van Morrison nor Jerry Wexler went to the funeral, but Neil Diamond did -- he went to try to persuade Ilene to let him out of his contract now Berns was dead. According to Janet Planet later, "We were at the hotel when we learned that Bert had died. We were just mortified, because things had been going really badly, and Van felt really bad, because I guess they'd parted having had some big fight or something... Even though he did love Bert, it was a strange relationship that lived and died in the studio... I remember we didn't go to the funeral, which probably was a mistake... I think [Van] had a really bad feeling about what was going to happen." But Morrison has later mostly talked about the more practical concerns that came up, which were largely the same as the ones Neil Diamond had, saying in 1997 "I'd signed a contract with Bert Berns for management, production, agency and record company, publishing, the whole lot -- which was professional suicide as any lawyer will tell you now... Then the whole thing blew up. Bert Berns died and I was left broke." This was the same mistake, essentially, that he'd made with Phil Solomon, and in order to get out of it, it turned out he was going to have to do much the same for a third time. But it was the experience with Berns specifically that traumatised Morrison enough that twenty-five years later he would still be writing songs about it, like "Big Time Operators": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Big Time Operators"] The option to renew Morrison's contracts with Berns' companies came on the ninth of January 1968, less than two weeks after Berns' death. After his death, Berns' share of ownership in his companies had passed to his widow, who was in a quandary. She had two young children, one of whom was only a few weeks old, and she needed an income after their father had died. She was also not well disposed at all towards Morrison, who she blamed for causing her husband's death. By all accounts the amazing thing is that Berns lived as long as he did given his heart condition and the state of medical science at the time, but it's easy to understand her thinking. She wanted nothing to do with Morrison, and wanted to punish him. On the other hand, her late husband's silent partners didn't want to let their cash cow go. And so Morrison came under a huge amount of pressure in very different directions. From one side, Carmine DiNoia was determined to make more money off Morrison, and Morrison has since talked about signing further contracts at this point with a gun literally to his head, and his hotel room being shot up. But on the other side, Ilene Berns wanted to destroy Morrison's career altogether. She found out that Bert Berns hadn't got Morrison the proper work permits and reported him to the immigration authorities. Morrison came very close to being deported, but in the end he managed to escape deportation by marrying Janet Planet. The newly-married couple moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to get away from New York and the mobsters, and to try to figure out the next steps in Morrison's career. Morrison started putting together a band, which he called The Van Morrison Controversy, and working on new songs. One of his earliest connections in Massachusetts was the lead singer of a band called the Hallucinations, who he met in a bar where he was trying to get a gig: [Excerpt: The Hallucinations, "Messin' With the Kid"] The Hallucinations' lead singer was called Peter Wolf, and would much later go on to become well-known as the singer with the J. Geils Band. He and Morrison became acquaintances, and later became closer friends when they realised they had another connection -- Wolf had a late-night radio show under the name Woofa Goofa, and he'd been receiving anonymous requests for obscure blues records from a fan of the show. Morrison had been the one sending in the requests, not realising his acquaintance was the DJ. Before he got his own band together, Morrison actually guested with the Hallucinations at one show they did in May 1968, supporting John Lee Hooker. The Hallucinations had been performing "Gloria" since Them's single had come out, and they invited Morrison to join them to perform it on stage. According to Wolf, Morrison was very drunk and ranted in cod-Japanese for thirty-five minutes, and tried to sing a different song while the band played "Gloria". The audience were apparently unimpressed, even though Wolf shouted at them “Don't you know who this man is? He wrote the song!” But in truth, Morrison was sick of "Gloria" and his earlier work, and was trying to push his music in a new direction. He would later talk about having had an epiphany after hearing one particular track on the radio: [Excerpt: The Band, "I Shall Be Released"] Like almost every musician in 1968, Morrison was hit like a lightning bolt by Music From Big Pink, and he decided that he needed to turn his music in the same direction. He started writing the song "Brand New Day", which would later appear on his album Moondance, inspired by the music on the album. The Van Morrison Controversy started out as a fairly straightforward rock band, with guitarist John Sheldon, bass player Tom Kielbania, and drummer Joey Bebo. Sheldon was a novice, though his first guitar teacher was the singer James Taylor, but the other two were students at Berklee, and very serious musicians. Morrison seems to have had various managers involved in rapid succession in 1968, including one who was himself a mobster, and another who was only known as Frank, but one of these managers advanced enough money that the musicians got paid every gig. These musicians were all interested in kinds of music other than just straight rock music, and as well as rehearsing up Morrison's hits and his new songs, they would also jam with him on songs from all sorts of other genres, particularly jazz and blues. The band worked up the song that would become "Domino" based on Sheldon jamming on a Bo Diddley riff, and another time the group were rehearsing a Grant Green jazz piece, "Lazy Afternoon": [Excerpt: Grant Green, "Lazy Afternoon"] Morrison started messing with the melody, and that became his classic song "Moondance": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Moondance"] No recordings of this electric lineup of the group are known to exist, though the backing musicians remember going to a recording studio called Ace recordings at one point and cutting some demos, which don't seem to circulate. Ace was a small studio which, according to all the published sources I've read, was best known for creating song poems, though it was a minor studio even in the song-poem world. For those who don't know, song poems were essentially a con aimed at wannabe songwriters who knew nothing about the business -- companies would advertise you too could become a successful, rich, songwriter if you sent in your "song poems", because anyone who knew the term "lyric" could be presumed to know too much about the music business to be useful. When people sent in their lyrics, they'd then be charged a fee to have them put out on their very own record -- with tracks made more or less on a conveyor belt with quick head arrangements, sung by session singers who were just handed a lyric sheet and told to get on with it. And thus were created such classics prized by collectors as "I Like Yellow Things", "Jimmy Carter Says 'Yes'", and "Listen Mister Hat". Obviously, for the most part these song poems did not lead to the customers becoming the next Ira Gershwin, but oddly even though Ace recordings is not one of the better-known song poem studios, it seems to have produced an actual hit song poem -- one that I don't think has ever before been identified as such until I made a connection, hence me going on this little tangent. Because in researching this episode I noticed something about its co-owner, Milton Yakus', main claim to fame. He co-wrote the song "Old Cape Cod", and to quote that song's Wikipedia page "The nucleus of the song was a poem written by Boston-area housewife Claire Rothrock, for whom Cape Cod was a favorite vacation spot. "Old Cape Cod" and its derivatives would be Rothrock's sole evident songwriting credit. She brought her poem to Ace Studios, a Boston recording studio owned by Milton Yakus, who adapted the poem into the song's lyrics." And while Yakus had written other songs, including songs for Patti Page who had the hit with "Old Cape Cod", apparently Page recorded that song after Rothrock brought her the demo after a gig, rather than getting it through any formal channels. It sounds to me like the massive hit and classic of the American songbook "Old Cape Cod" started life as a song-poem -- and if you're familiar with the form, it fits the genre perfectly: [Excerpt: Patti Page, "Old Cape Cod"] The studio was not the classiest of places, even if you discount the song-poems. Its main source of income was from cutting private records with mobsters' wives and mistresses singing (and dealing with the problems that came along when those records weren't successful) and it also had a sideline in bugging people's cars to see if their spouses were cheating, though Milton Yakus' son Shelly, who got his start at his dad's studio, later became one of the most respected recording engineers in the industry -- and indeed had already worked as assistant engineer on Music From Big Pink. And there was actually another distant connection to Morrison's new favourite band on these sessions. For some reason -- reports differ -- Bebo wasn't considered suitable for the session, and in his place was the one-handed drummer Victor "Moulty" Moulton, who had played with the Barbarians, who'd had a minor hit with "Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?" a couple of years earlier: [Excerpt: The Barbarians, "Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?"] A later Barbarians single, in early 1966, had featured Moulty telling his life story, punctuated by the kind of three-chord chorus that would have been at home on a Bert Berns single: [Excerpt: The Barbarians, "Moulty"] But while that record was credited to the Barbarians, Moulton was the only Barbarian on the track, with the instruments and backing vocals instead being provided by Levon and the Hawks. Shortly after the Ace sessions, the Van Morrison Controversy fell apart, though nobody seems to know why. Depending on which musician's story you listen to, either Morrison had a dream that he should get rid of all electric instruments and only use acoustic players, or there was talk of a record deal but the musicians weren't good enough, or the money from the mysterious manager (who may or may not have been the one who was a mobster) ran out. Bebo went back to university, and Sheldon left soon after, though Sheldon would remain in the music business in one form or another. His most prominent credit has been writing a couple of songs for his old friend James Taylor, including the song "Bittersweet" on Taylor's platinum-selling best-of, on which Sheldon also played guitar: [Excerpt: James Taylor, "Bittersweet"] Morrison and Kielbania continued for a while as a duo, with Morrison on acoustic guitar and Kielbania on double bass, but they were making very different music. Morrison's biggest influence at this point, other than The Band, was King Pleasure, a jazz singer who sang in the vocalese style we've talked about before -- the style where singers would sing lyrics to melodies that had previously been improvised by jazz musicians: [Excerpt: King Pleasure, "Moody's Mood for Love"] Morrison and Kielbania soon decided that to make the more improvisatory music they were interested in playing, they wanted another musician who could play solos. They ended up with John Payne, a jazz flute and saxophone player whose biggest inspiration was Charles Lloyd. This new lineup of the Van Morrison Controversy -- acoustic guitar, double bass, and jazz flute -- kept gigging around Boston, though the sound they were creating was hardly what the audiences coming to see the man who'd had that "Brown-Eyed Girl" hit the year before would have expected -- even when they did "Brown-Eyed Girl", as the one live recording of that line-up, made by Peter Wolf, shows: [Excerpt: The Van Morrison Controversy, "Brown-Eyed Girl (live in Boston 1968)"] That new style, with melodic bass underpinning freely extemporising jazz flute and soulful vocals, would become the basis of the album that to this day is usually considered Morrison's best. But before that could happen, there was the matter of the contracts to be sorted out. Warner-Reprise Records were definitely interested. Warners had spent the last few years buying up smaller companies like Atlantic, Autumn Records, and Reprise, and the label was building a reputation as the major label that would give artists the space and funding they needed to make the music they wanted to make. Idiosyncratic artists with difficult reputations (deserved or otherwise), like Neil Young, Randy Newman, Van Dyke Parks, the Grateful Dead, and Joni Mitchell, had all found homes on the label, which was soon also to start distributing Frank Zappa, the Beach Boys, and Captain Beefheart. A surly artist who wants to make mystical acoustic songs with jazz flute accompaniment was nothing unusual for them, and once Joe Smith, the man who had signed the Grateful Dead, was pointed in Morrison's direction by Andy Wickham, an A&R man working for the label, everyone knew that Morrison would be a perfect fit. But Morrison was still under contract to Bang records and Web IV, and those contracts said, among other things, that any other label that negotiated with Morrison would be held liable for breach of contract. Warners didn't want to show their interest in Morrison, because a major label wanting to sign him would cause Bang to raise the price of buying him out of his contract. Instead they got an independent production company to sign him, with a nod-and-wink understanding that they would then license the records to Warners. The company they chose was Inherit Productions, the production arm of Schwaid-Merenstein, a management company set up by Bob Schwaid, who had previously worked in Warners' publishing department, and record producer Lewis Merenstein. Merenstein came to another demo session at Ace Recordings, where he fell in love with the new music that Morrison was playing, and determined he would do everything in his power to make the record into the masterpiece it deserved to be. He and Morrison were, at least at this point, on exactly the same page, and bonded over their mutual love of King Pleasure. Morrison signed to Schwaid-Merenstein, just as he had with Bert Berns and before him Phil Solomon, for management, record production, and publishing. Schwaid-Merenstein were funded by Warners, and would license any recordings they made to Warners, once the contractual situation had been sorted out. The first thing to do was to negotiate the release from Web IV, the publishing company owned by Ilene Berns. Schwaid negotiated that, and Morrison got released on four conditions -- he had to make a substantial payment to Web IV, if he released a single within a year he had to give Web IV the publishing, any album he released in the next year had to contain at least two songs published by Web IV, and he had to give Web IV at least thirty-six new songs to publish within the next year. The first two conditions were no problem at all -- Warners had the money to buy the contract out, and Merenstein's plans for the first album didn't involve a single anyway. It wouldn't be too much of a hardship to include a couple of Web IV-published tracks on the album -- Morrison had written two songs, "Beside You" and "Madame George", that had already been published and that he was regularly including in his live sets. As for the thirty-six new songs... well, that all depended on what you called a song, didn't it? [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Ring Worm"] Morrison went into a recording studio and recorded thirty-one ostensible songs, most of them lasting one minute to within a few seconds either way, in which he strummed one or two chords and spoke-sang whatever words came into his head -- for example one song, "Here Comes Dumb George", just consists of the words "Here Comes Dumb George" repeated over and over. Some of the 'songs', like "Twist and Shake" and "Hang on Groovy", are parodying Bert Berns' songwriting style; others, like "Waiting for My Royalty Check", "Blowin' Your Nose", and "Nose in Your Blow", are attacks on Bang's business practices. Several of the songs, like "Hold on George", "Here Comes Dumb George", "Dum Dum George", and "Goodbye George" are about a man called George who seems to have come to Boston to try and fail to make a record with Morrison. And “Want a Danish” is about wanting a Danish pastry. But in truth, this description is still making these "songs" sound more coherent than they are. The whole recording is of no musical merit whatsoever, and has absolutely nothing in it which could be considered to have any commercial potential at all. Which is of course the point -- just to show utter contempt to Ilene Berns and her company. The other problem that needed to be solved was Bang Records itself, which was now largely under the control of the mob. That was solved by Joe Smith. As Smith told the story "A friend of mine who knew some people said I could buy the contract for $20,000. I had to meet somebody in a warehouse on the third floor on Ninth Avenue in New York. I walked up there with twenty thousand-dollar bills -- and I was terrified. I was terrified I was going to give them the money, get a belt on the head and still not wind up with the contract. And there were two guys in the room. They looked out of central casting -- a big wide guy and a tall, thin guy. They were wearing suits and hats and stuff. I said 'I'm here with the money. You got the contract?' I remember I took that contract and ran out the door and jumped from the third floor to the second floor, and almost broke my leg to get on the street, where I could get a cab and put the contract in a safe place back at Warner Brothers." But the problem was solved, and Lewis Merenstein could get to work translating the music he'd heard Morrison playing into a record. He decided that Kielbania and Payne were not suitable for the kind of recording he wanted -- though they were welcome to attend the sessions in case the musicians had any questions about the songs, and thus they would get session pay. Kielbania was, at first, upset by this, but he soon changed his mind when he realised who Merenstein was bringing in to replace him on bass for the session. Richard Davis, the bass player -- who sadly died two months ago as I write this -- would later go on to play on many classic rock records by people like Bruce Springsteen and Laura Nyro, largely as a result of his work for Morrison, but at the time he was known as one of the great jazz bass players, most notably having played on Eric Dolphy's Out to Lunch: [Excerpt: Eric Dolphy, "Hat and Beard"] Kielbania could see the wisdom of getting in one of the truly great players for the album, and he was happy to show Davis the parts he'd been playing on the songs live, which Davis could then embellish -- Davis later always denied this, but it's obvious when listening to the live recordings that Kielbania played on before these sessions that Davis is playing very similar lines. Warren Smith Jr, the vibraphone player, had played with great jazz musicians like Charles Mingus and Herbie Mann, as well as backing Lloyd Price, Aretha Franklin, and Janis Joplin. Connie Kay, the drummer, was the drummer for the Modern Jazz Quartet and had also played sessions with everyone from Ruth Brown to Miles Davis. And Jay Berliner, the guitarist, had played on records like Charles Mingus' classic The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady: [Excerpt: Charles Mingus: "Mode D - Trio and Group Dancers, Mode F - Single Solos & Group Dance"] There was also a flute player whose name nobody now remembers. Although all of these musicians were jobbing session musicians -- Berliner came to the first session for the album that became Astral Weeks straight from a session recording a jingle for Pringles potato chips -- they were all very capable of taking a simple song and using it as an opportunity for jazz improvisation. And that was what Merenstein asked them to do. The songs that Morrison was writing were lyrically oblique, but structurally they were very simple -- surprisingly so when one is used to listening to the finished album. Most of the songs were, harmonically, variants of the standard blues and R&B changes that Morrison was used to playing. "Cyprus Avenue" and "The Way Young Lovers Do", for example, are both basically twelve-bar blueses -- neither is *exactly* a standard twelve-bar blues, but both are close enough that they can be considered to fit the form. Other than what Kielbania and Payne showed the musicians, they received no guidance from Morrison, who came in, ran through the songs once for them, and then headed to the vocal booth. None of the musicians had much memory of Morrison at all -- Jay Berliner said “This little guy walks in, past everybody, disappears into the vocal booth, and almost never comes out, even on the playbacks, he stayed in there." While Richard Davis later said “Well, I was with three of my favorite fellas to play with, so that's what made it beautiful. We were not concerned with Van at all, he never spoke to us.” The sound of the basic tracks on Astral Weeks is not the sound of a single auteur, as one might expect given its reputation, it's the sound of extremely good jazz musicians improvising based on the instructions given by Lewis Merenstein, who was trying to capture the feeling he'd got from listening to Morrison's live performances and demos. And because these were extremely good musicians, the album was recorded extremely quickly. In the first session, they cut four songs. Two of those were songs that Morrison was contractually obliged to record because of his agreement with Web IV -- "Beside You" and "Madame George", two songs that Bert Berns had produced, now in radically different versions: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Madame George"] The third song, "Cyprus Avenue", is the song that has caused most controversy over the years, as it's another of the songs that Morrison wrote around this time that relate to a sexual or romantic interest in underage girls. In this case, the reasoning might have been as simple as that the song is a blues, and Morrison may have been thinking about a tradition of lyrics like this in blues songs like "Good Morning, Little Schoolgirl". Whatever the cause though, the lyrics have, to put it mildly, not aged well at all: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Cyprus Avenue"] That song would be his standard set-closer for live performances for much of the seventies. For the fourth and final song, though, they chose to record what would become the title track for the album, "Astral Weeks", a song that was a lot more elliptical, and which seems in part to be about Morrison's longing for Janet Planet from afar, but also about memories of childhood, and also one of the first songs to bring in Morrison's fascination with the occult and spirituality, something that would be a recurring theme throughout his work, as the song was partly inspired by paintings by a friend of Morrison's which suggested to him the concept of astral travel: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] Morrison had a fascination with the idea of astral travel, as he had apparently had several out-of-body experiences as a child, and wanted to find some kind of explanation for them. Most of the songs on the album came, by Morrison's own account, as a kind of automatic writing, coming through him rather than being consciously written, and there's a fascination throughout with, to use the phrase from "Madame George", "childhood visions". The song is also one of the first songs in Morrison's repertoire to deliberately namecheck one of his idols, something else he would do often in future, when he talks about "talking to Huddie Leadbelly". "Astral Weeks" was a song that Morrison had been performing live for some time, and Payne had always enjoyed doing it. Unlike Kielbania he had no compunction about insisting that he was good enough to play on the record, and he eventually persuaded the session flute player to let him borrow his instrument, and Payne was allowed to play on the track: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] Or at least that's how the story is usually told -- Payne is usually credited for playing on "Madame George" too, even though everyone agrees that "Astral Weeks" was the last song of the night, but people's memories can fade over time. Either way, Payne's interplay with Jay Berliner on the guitar became such a strong point of the track that there was no question of bringing the unknown session player back -- Payne was going to be the woodwind player for the rest of the album: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] There was then a six-day break between sessions, during which time Payne and Kielbania went to get initiated into Scientology -- a religion with which Morrison himself would experiment a little over a decade later -- though they soon decided that it wasn't worth the cost of the courses they'd have to take, and gave up on the idea the same week. The next session didn't go so well. Jay Berliner was unavailable, and so Barry Kornfeld, a folkie who played with people like Dave Van Ronk, was brought in to replace him. Kornfeld was perfectly decent in the role, but they'd also brought in a string section, with the idea of recording some of the songs which needed string parts live. But the string players they brought in were incapable of improvising, coming from a classical rather than jazz tradition, and the only track that got used on the finished album was "The Way Young Lovers Do", by far the most conventional song on the album, a three-minute soul ballad structured as a waltz twelve-bar blues, where the strings are essentially playing the same parts that a horn section would play on a record by someone like Solomon Burke: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "The Way Young Lovers Do"] It was decided that any string or horn parts on the rest of the album would just be done as overdubs. It was two weeks before the next and final session for the album, and that featured the return of Jay Berliner on guitar. The session started with "Sweet Thing" and "Ballerina", two songs that Morrison had been playing live for some time, and which were cut in relatively quick order. They then made attempts at two more songs that didn't get very far, "Royalty", and "Going Around With Jesse James", before Morrison, stuck for something to record, pulled out a new lyric he'd never performed live, "Slim Slow Slider". The whole band ran through the song once, but then Merenstein decided to pare the arrangement down to just Morrison, Payne (on soprano sax rather than on flute), and Warren Smith Jr: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Slim Slow Slider"] That track was the only one where, after the recording, Merenstein didn't compliment the performance, remaining silent instead – Payne said “Maybe everyone was just tired, or maybe they were moved by it.” It seems likely it was the latter. The track eventually got chosen as the final track of the album, because Merenstein felt that it didn't fit conceptually with anything else -- and it's definitely a more negative track than the oth
Don't miss an Author's Afternoon with Tom Lisanti in The Locher Room. Tom stopped by to talk about his new book, Ryan's Hope: An Oral History of Daytime's Groundbreaking Soap.The book is out now and is a definitive look at the popular serial from the people who made it so beloved and how it made its way into millions of households through a combination of compelling storylines, incredible publicity, a slew of younger viewers who became loyal fans, and daytime star power that made it so innovative during the Golden Age of Daytime Soap Operas.Joining Tom to discuss the book and their experience working on this beloved soap are Christopher Durham and Ilene Kristen.Tom is an award-winning author of eleven books about the ‘60's and 70's film and television. He has appeared on Turner Classic Movies co-hosting with Ben Mankiewicz a week of 1960s spring break/beach movies and he is featured in the documentary The Green Girl about actress Susan Oliver, and an upcoming documentary about novelist/screenwriter Terry Southern. He has recently written articles for Cinema of the 70s; Films of the Golden Age; Scary Monsters; and Cinema Retro magazines.
This week, Dylan and Cameron welcome Rachel from the Castle to discuss her pick for the show, 1968's Barbarella. Much like the film, things get silly and much fun is had by all! Also, Dylan butchers the director's name repeatedly (again). Yay alcohol! Written by Jean-Claude Forest, Terry Southern, and like 7 other random people. Directed by Roger Vadim. Starring Jane Fonda.
The cult classic film Easy Rider was released this month. A landmark counter culture movie, the film traces the journey of Wyatt and Billy as they make their way on motorcycles from a successful drug deal in Los Angeles to the Mardi Gras festival in New Orleans. Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, and Terry Southern wrote the film, and it stars Fonda, Hopper, and Jack Nicholson. Dennis Hopper directed the movie. Originally the plan was for Crosby, Stills & Nash to do all the songs on the soundtrack. When the editor plugged in contemporary songs as placeholders, the sound convinced Dennis Hopper to reverse this decision.The Easy Rider Soundtrack was crafted with contemporary late 60's music, and stands out as an excellent example of the music of the counterculture. Each piece used in the movie was curated with the idea of maintaining the story. Wayne brings us this forerunner of prog rock and heavy metal. Don't Bogart Me by Fraternity of ManPsychedelic and blues rock band the Fraternity of Man would have their biggest hit with this song. It recommends generosity with illicit smoking materials. This song originally appeared on their self-titled debut album in 1968 before being included in this soundtrack.Ballad of Easy Rider by Roger McGuinnBob Dylan was an uncredited contributor on this song. The Byrds front man Roger McGuinn performed this as a solo work. It was the only song originally written for this film, and appeared on one of McGuinn's albums later.The Weight by The BandThis song chronicles the experience of a visitor to Nazareth, Pennsylvania, even though much of its influence is from the American South. Nazareth is the home of Martin guitars, and that is why the lyrics transfer to that location. Licensing could not be gained for the soundtrack even though it was used in the film, so a group called Smith was used for the soundtrack instead of The Band.Born To Be Wild by SteppenwolfSteppenwolf's most successful single appeared on their debut album in 1968 before being used in "Easy Rider." Many consider it to be the first heavy metal song, and the lyric "heavy metal thunder" contributes to that. This song would be used as a motorcycle anthem from this time on. ENTERTAINMENT TRACK:Wasn't Born to Follow by The Byrds (from the motion picture “Easy Rider”)Yes, we get to do a little double dipping with our entertainment track this week. STAFF PICKS:Put a Little Love in Your Heart by Jackie DeShannonRob opens this week's staff picks with a song that hit number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100, and it was used in the film "Drugstore Cowboy." Jackie DeShannon is best known for the song, "What the World Needs Now is Love." DeShannon also wrote "Betty Davis Eyes" for Kim Carnes.In the Ghetto by Elvis Presley Brian brings us The King with a poignant song about a child from the dirt street part of town. Writer Mac Davis was inspired by the story of a friend who grew up in poverty. Elvis completely identified with this song because of his impoverished upbringing.I Can Sing a Rainbow/Love Is Blue by the Dells Bruce's staff pick is a cover medley of Sing a Rainbow, best known in its 1955 rendition by Peggy Lee, and Love is Blue, originally a French song best known as an instrumental easy listening piece by Paul Mauriat that was a number 1 hit in March of 1968. the Dells hit number 22 on the US charts with this version during the height of their success between 1966 and 1973.I'd Rather Be an Old Man's Sweetheart by Candi Staton Wayne features a soul hit from Muscle Shoals. This is Staton's first hit, rising to number 9 on the R&B charts, and number 46 on the pop charts. Staton is known as the "First Lady of Southern Soul." "I'd rather be an old man's sweetheart than a young man's fool." INSTRUMENTAL TRACK:A Boy Named Sue by Johnny CashCash released this novelty song telling the story of a boy who had to grow up tough after his absentee father left him with the name of Sue.
Un remake est annoncé pour le film culte ‘'Easy Rider'' qui se verra revisité par le producteur Maurice Fadida (The Trial of the Chicago 7), nouvelle version de ce classique sorti en 1969 via Columbia Pictures et écrit par Dennis Hopper, Peter Fonda et Terry Southern, le tout teinté d'une bande originale unique et rock avec notamment Jimi Hendrix, Steppenwolf, The Byrds, etc, et le tout jeune acteur Jack Nicholson. Greta Van Fleet a enfin annoncé reprendre sa tournée et propose de nouvelles dates à ses fans, après les problèmes d'audition du chanteur Josh Kiszka. Shania Twain a annoncé la sortie d'une version deluxe de son album ‘'Come On Over'' sorti en 1997, en compagnie de Chris Martin de Coldplay, Elton John, Nick Jonas (des Jonas Brothers). La série ‘'Wednesday'' de Tim Burton fait le buzz en ce moment, dans une scène de danse avec l'actrice principale, Jenna Ortega, qu'on repère les influences rock gothiques des années 80 de la série, inspirées des vidéos de "Siouxsie Sioux'', de Lisa Loring dans "The Rich Man's Frug" de Bob Fosse, de Lene Lovich, Denis Lavant, et d'autres archives de gothiques dansant dans les clubs des années 80. L'ancien chanteur de Motley Crue, John Corabi, a insinué que Mick Mars, guitariste et membre fondateur, n'aurait pas enregistré sur les derniers albums et qu'il aurait plutôt été "viré" que forcé de quitter le groupe pour des raisons de santé, le guitariste John 5 (Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson) partira en tournée avec le groupe et qui remplacera Mick Mars. Le guitariste de Queen, Brian May, a fixé l'été 2023 comme objectif pour la sortie du prochain coffret de réédition ‘'Gold Series'' de son EP solo ‘'Star Fleet Project'' de 1983, avec le regretté Eddie Van Halen, accompagnés du bassiste Phil Chen, du batteur Alan Gratzer et du claviériste de Queen, Fred Mandel. --- Classic 21 vous informe des dernières actualités du rock, en Belgique et partout ailleurs. Le Journal du Rock, chaque jour à 7h30 et 18h30.
The guys get wild unraveling the story of the "American Beatle" who wrote some of the all-time greatest songs, partied with the all-time greatest musicians, and ultimately couldn't shake his obsession with the silver screen - a preoccupation that would be his undoing. SHOW NOTES: Songs used in this episode: Harry Nilsson – Without You, Coconut, Everybody's Talkin', Me and My Arrow, You're Breaking My Heart, Jump Into the Fire, You Can't Do That Badfinger – Without You, The Beatles – You Can't Do That https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Telephone_(1988_film) https://www.smoothradio.com/features/the-story-of/without-you-harry-nilsson-lyrics-meaning/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coconut_(song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Nilsson https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1994-11-04-fi-59566-story.html https://rocknrollstorytimecom.wordpress.com/2022/01/18/the-lost-weekend/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Point! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Son_of_Dracula_(1974_film) Watch Son of Dracula: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfkHN_QxNcw https://dangerousminds.net/comments/harry_nilssons_best_friend_courtship_of_eddies_father_theme_was_originally Watch The Telephone for free on Tubi: https://tubitv.com/movies/487254/the-telephone Buy the screenplay: https://www.royalbooks.com/pages/books/147221/terry-southern-harry-nilsson-rip-torn-elliott-gould-whoopi-goldberg-john-heard-screenwriters/the-telephone-original-screenplay-for-the-1988-film Watch the documentary (2006): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Je8g10Q3-gY https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Southern The 1988 LA Times piece on Hawkeye: https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1988-01-12-fi-35188-story.html The 1994 LA Times piece on Nilsson's death: https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1994-11-04-fi-59566-story.html New York Times review of The Telephone: https://www.nytimes.com/1988/02/14/movies/film-whoopi-goldberg-in-telephone.html https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1994-11-04-fi-59566-story.html
It's Stephen's 4th pick: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, the 1964 film directed by Stanley Kubrick. Often cited as one of the best comedy films of all time – as well as simply one of the best films generally – this was Kubrick's follow-up to Lolita, released two years before in 1962.Its making began with the director's desire to produce a movie about a nuclear accident during the Cold War. As he was doing research for the project, someone suggested he read Peter George's book, Red Alert, and he eventually bought the rights for it and began working with the author on an adaptation. As they began to write, Kubrick at some point came to the conclusion that there was no real way to depict the scenario he was interested in without it seeming absurd, so they decided to lean into that absurdity and make it a satire, which is a departure from the more serious depiction of the novel. Satirical author Terry Southern (perhaps best known by movie fans as a co-writer of Easy Rider a few years later) was brought in to help with the tone. The casting of Peter Sellers was instrumental in getting the film made, with Columbia Pictures making it a condition that the actor play 4 roles – one more than he had in 1959's The Mouse that Roared. Originally, he was set to also play Major Kong, the bomber pilot, though perhaps against his better wishes since he wasn't comfortable with the character's Texas accent. But an injury forced him out of the role and it was recast with Slim Pickens, though not before it was offered to John Wayne. Another change of note is that the film legendarily originally ended with a giant pie fight between all the personnel in the War Room. The film was originally set to open in late 1963, but was delayed due to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Instead it was released in January 1964 to good box office and it was eventually nominated for 4 Academy Awards – Best Picture, Director, Actor (Peter Sellers), and Adapted Screenplay – though it won none. It did however win 4 BAFTA awards, including Best British Film and Best Film From Any Source. And it was nominated for or won other Guild and Critics awards. As for our purposes, it only appeared in the top 10 of one of Sight & Sound's polls once, when it was ranked the 5th greatest film by directors in 2002. In the 2012 polling, it was ranked #117 by critics and #107 by directors. Among the directors who included it in their top 10s were Lawrence Kasdan, Michael Mann, and Amos Poe. Produced by Stereoactive Media --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/stereoactivemovieclub/message
GGACP celebrates the 40th anniversary of the iconic 80's coming-of-age film "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" (released August 13, 1982) by revisiting this interview with writer-director Amy Heckerling (“Clueless,” “National Lampoon's European Vacation”). In this episode, Amy weighs in on the double standard of onscreen nudity, the educational benefits of the “Million Dollar Movie,” the blandness of romantic comedies and the genius of Slavko Vorkapich. Also, Amy sparks to James Cagney, salutes Mort Drucker, “studies” with Terry Southern and finds inspiration in “Ed Wood.” PLUS: Ray Walston! “Jaws 2!” Praising Cameron Crowe! The mystery of Martin Brest! And Gilbert cuts the rug with John Travolta! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Adapted from the French comics series by Jean-Claude Forest and produced by Italian film kingpin Dino De Laurentiis, Barbarella shared cast and crew with Danger: Diabolik and went through a slew of writers (including Terry Southern) before reaching its final form. It's odd to remember that Jane Fonda was far from the first choice for the starring role when one considers how strongly the part looms over her public persona, but even a cursory glance at her vivid, dizzying, salacious, and humorous performance will provide ample evidence as to how Barbarella became an enduring camp classic. Ryan is joined by Sylvan and Cheryl for a thorough examination of this cheesy, sexy, loopy, and unique time capsule of a very specific era in pop culture history. Discussion topics for Barbarella include the nature of consent, Jane Fonda's complex relationship with socio-political issues, how Barbarella reflects attitudes apparent in second wave feminism, Barbarella's thorny interpretation through the lens of sex positivity, and how a modern version of Barbarella might play out. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/ryan-valentine3/support
If you want it, here it is, come and get it! This episode, the first of 2022, looks at the hugely ambitious if not entirely successful 1969 film adaptation of Terry Southern's satirical novel The Magic Christian, starring Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr and a cast of familiar faces including Spike Milligan, Hattie Jacques, John Cleese, Richard Attenborough, Patrick Cargill, Roman Polanski, Raquel Welch and even Fred Emney! Joining Tyler on the pod this week, having just done several laps of a vat full of animal waste, is the writer Jem Roberts whose latest book Fab Fools examines the Beatles and comedy and has recently been released as an audiobook. Jem has also written books on Blackadder, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue/ISIRTA, Douglas Adams and Fry & Laurie. We found a lot from the film to talk about and it was a highly enjoyable and entertaining conversation. Jem's website: www.jemroberts.comand he's on Twitter @JemRoberts
In this episode, we welcome Davitt Sigerson, all the way from his native New York City, to talk about his stellar career from Black Music magazine in 1975 to being made chairman of Island Records in America in 1998. Along the way we hear about his passionate love of disco, his two albums for ZE Records, and plenty more besides.Davitt also weighs in with thoughts on Chic, Prince, David Bowie's Young Americans, the late Mick Rock and a newly-added audio interview with Bootsy Collins, conducted in June 1978 by Davitt's sometime Black Music colleague Cliff White. Davitt proves to be a witty and erudite guest, as comfortable holding forth on Robert Musil as on Cloud One's 'Atmosphere Strut' — and with fascinating recall, to boot.Among the new library articles added by the RBP team, Mark & Jasper focus on pieces about the Clash, Vivian Stanshall, Cecil Taylor, Randy Newman, Amy Winehouse and — bringing the episode neatly full circle — disco "mix master" Tom Moulton.Many thanks to special guest Davitt Sigerson, whose remastered demos are coming soon to a streaming service near you.Pieces discussed: Davitt on Disco, Tom Moulton, Chic, Prince, Barney meets Davitt, Bootsy Collins audio, Young Americans, David Bowie, Mick Rock, Elton John, Cecil Taylor, The Clash + Johnny Thunders, Rough Trade and Factory, Randy Newman, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Otis Redding, Noel Redding, Viv Stanshall, Terry Southern, Amy Winehouse, Cameron Carpenter and Tom Moulton.
In this episode, we welcome Davitt Sigerson, all the way from his native New York City, to talk about his stellar career from Black Music magazine in 1975 to being made chairman of Island Records in America in 1998. Along the way we hear about his passionate love of disco, his two albums for ZE Records, and plenty more besides. Davitt also weighs in with thoughts on Chic, Prince, David Bowie's Young Americans, the late Mick Rock and a newly-added audio interview with Bootsy Collins, conducted in June 1978 by Davitt's sometime Black Music colleague Cliff White. Davitt proves to be a witty and erudite guest, as comfortable holding forth on Robert Musil as on Cloud One's 'Atmosphere Strut' — and with fascinating recall, to boot. Among the new library articles added by the RBP team, Mark & Jasper focus on pieces about the Clash, Vivian Stanshall, Cecil Taylor, Randy Newman, Amy Winehouse and — bringing the episode neatly full circle — disco "mix master" Tom Moulton. Many thanks to special guest Davitt Sigerson, whose remastered demos are coming soon to a streaming service near you. Pieces discussed: Davitt on Disco, Tom Moulton, Chic, Prince, Barney meets Davitt, Bootsy Collins audio, Young Americans, David Bowie, Mick Rock, Elton John, Cecil Taylor, The Clash + Johnny Thunders, Rough Trade and Factory, Randy Newman, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Otis Redding, Noel Redding, Viv Stanshall, Terry Southern, Amy Winehouse, Cameron Carpenter and Tom Moulton. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
In this episode, we welcome Davitt Sigerson, all the way from his native New York City, to talk about his stellar career from Black Music magazine in 1975 to being made chairman of Island Records in America in 1998. Along the way we hear about his passionate love of disco, his two albums for ZE Records, and plenty more besides.Davitt also weighs in with thoughts on Chic, Prince, David Bowie's Young Americans, the late Mick Rock and a newly-added audio interview with Bootsy Collins, conducted in June 1978 by Davitt's sometime Black Music colleague Cliff White. Davitt proves to be a witty and erudite guest, as comfortable holding forth on Robert Musil as on Cloud One's 'Atmosphere Strut' — and with fascinating recall, to boot.Among the new library articles added by the RBP team, Mark & Jasper focus on pieces about the Clash, Vivian Stanshall, Cecil Taylor, Randy Newman, Amy Winehouse and — bringing the episode neatly full circle — disco "mix master" Tom Moulton.Many thanks to special guest Davitt Sigerson, whose remastered demos are coming soon to a streaming service near you.Pieces discussed: Davitt on Disco, Tom Moulton, Chic, Prince, Barney meets Davitt, Bootsy Collins audio, Young Americans, David Bowie, Mick Rock, Elton John, Cecil Taylor, The Clash + Johnny Thunders, Rough Trade and Factory, Randy Newman, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Otis Redding, Noel Redding, Viv Stanshall, Terry Southern, Amy Winehouse, Cameron Carpenter and Tom Moulton.
In this episode, we welcome Davitt Sigerson, all the way from his native New York City, to talk about his stellar career from Black Music magazine in 1975 to being made chairman of Island Records in America in 1998. Along the way we hear about his passionate love of disco, his two albums for ZE Records, and plenty more besides. Davitt also weighs in with thoughts on Chic, Prince, David Bowie's Young Americans, the late Mick Rock and a newly-added audio interview with Bootsy Collins, conducted in June 1978 by Davitt's sometime Black Music colleague Cliff White. Davitt proves to be a witty and erudite guest, as comfortable holding forth on Robert Musil as on Cloud One's 'Atmosphere Strut' — and with fascinating recall, to boot. Among the new library articles added by the RBP team, Mark & Jasper focus on pieces about the Clash, Vivian Stanshall, Cecil Taylor, Randy Newman, Amy Winehouse and — bringing the episode neatly full circle — disco "mix master" Tom Moulton. Many thanks to special guest Davitt Sigerson, whose remastered demos are coming soon to a streaming service near you. Pieces discussed: Davitt on Disco, Tom Moulton, Chic, Prince, Barney meets Davitt, Bootsy Collins audio, Young Americans, David Bowie, Mick Rock, Elton John, Cecil Taylor, The Clash + Johnny Thunders, Rough Trade and Factory, Randy Newman, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Otis Redding, Noel Redding, Viv Stanshall, Terry Southern, Amy Winehouse, Cameron Carpenter and Tom Moulton.
We know what you're thinking. How can those Vintage Sand guys be so durned knowledgeable about film and yet still maintain their humility? Well, of course the three of us have seen way too many films over the years, but the truth is that so much of what has shaped our lives as filmgoers has come from reading some of the great books written about film by filmmakers, great critics, and film historians. At Vintage Sand, we've never claimed any expertise in film as such. We have tried simply to share our enthusiasm in the hope of opening doors for our listeners regarding our favorite films and perhaps some different and useful ways to watch them. So, instead of trying to take you to school this time, we're taking you to the library. The titles we discuss in this episode, as mentioned above, do what film studies does best – open new doors. You'll find that the books on our list are pretty much free of jargon (the use of the word “liminality” is expressly forbidden), as well as tell-all gossip. For the sake of time and sanity, we've omitted fictional works about Hollywood and the process of making movies; West's The Day of the Locust, Fitzgerald's The Last Tycoon, and Terry Southern's Blue Movie, are some examples that are worth your time along those lines. So dig up your library cards, clean your glasses and come along with us to see why names like David Thomson and Donald Spoto are as important to our lives as film fanatics as names like Kubrick or Hitchcock.
In this episode we continue our conversation with Gabriel Levinson, founder of ANTIBOOKCLUB, a tiny, indie publishing house. ANTIBOOKCLUB works tirelessly to bring readers "the wild, the stunning, the essential since 2011." This conversation was recorded in December of 2020. Gabriel Levinson started ANTIBOOKCLUB by himself, publishing about one book per year. While working for Make Magazine in Chicago and Penguin Random House (among other day jobs) Gabriel has spent his nights, weekends, and any money he can scrape up to make the books he believes need to see the light of day (or the light of a reading lamp). Here are some of ANTIBOOKCLUB's accolades, according to their website: "Beautiful Gravity was named an ALA Stonewall Honor Book of 2017 and was a Lambda Literary Awards finalist (it was also rated one of the top book cover designs of the year by Electric Literature and The New York Times Book Review); The End of the World was adapted into the Academy Award-nominated film World of Tomorrow; and the surreal, subversive "shock novel" The Diesel has an entry and essay in The Global Encyclopedia of LGBTQ Literature. Many of our titles have been taught in universities and high schools across the United States.We are a small but dedicated crew who count world-renown authors, translators, and designers among our ranks. We are here to shatter and shape your literary sensibilities, one book at a time."ANTIBOOKCLUB recently published a collection of never before published works by Terry Southern, entitled The Hipsters. It was a decade-long project that Gabriel worked on closely with Terry Southern's son, Nile. Also recently published is Silver Skin, a coming-of-age novel written by Spanish author Javier Calvo, "an elegy to the transformative powers of art, imagination, and the imagined other."In Part Two of The Degenerates, we talk about Gabriel's experience publishing Practical Blasphemy, the fictionalized memoir of author LJT, featured in Episode 3 of the podcast. We talk about eBooks and ANTIBOOKCLUB's evolution on its stance regarding them; ANTI's relationship with Amazon and Gabriel's decision to pull his books from their shelves; German media firm Bertelsmann and its acquisition of yet another giant in publishing; Bookshop.org, and more. We think this episode is of particular interest to readers and writers who want to know more about the editing process and how our choices in how and where we purchase books affects both the publishing ecosystem itself and our exposure to new content.You don't want to miss this conversation with Gabriel Levinson, a brilliant, frustrated, dedicated, bitingly funny renegade publisher. Find ANTIBOOKCLUB on Instagram @antibookclub.---------------EPISODE CREDITS:Produced, Engineered, and Edited by Calvin MartyMusic written, produced, and performed by Calvin Marty
In this episode we welcome Gabriel Levinson, founder of ANTIBOOKCLUB, a tiny, indie publishing house. ANTIBOOKCLUB works tirelessly to bring readers "the wild, the stunning, the essential since 2011." This conversation was recorded in December of 2020.Gabriel Levinson started ANTIBOOKCLUB by himself, publishing about one book per year. While working for Make Magazine in Chicago and Penguin Random House (among other day jobs) Gabriel has spent his nights, weekends, and any money he can scrape up to make the books he believes need to see the light of day (or the light of a reading lamp).-----------Here are some of ANTIBOOKCLUB's accolades, according to their website: "Beautiful Gravity was named an ALA Stonewall Honor Book of 2017 and was a Lambda Literary Awards finalist (it was also rated one of the top book cover designs of the year by Electric Literature and The New York Times Book Review); The End of the World was adapted into the Academy Award-nominated film World of Tomorrow; and the surreal, subversive "shock novel" The Diesel has an entry and essay in The Global Encyclopedia of LGBTQ Literature. Many of our titles have been taught in universities and high schools across the United States.We are a small but dedicated crew who count world-renown authors, translators, and designers among our ranks. We are here to shatter and shape your literary sensibilities, one book at a time."-----------ANTIBOOKCLUB recently published a collection of never before published works by Terry Southern, entitled The Hipsters. It was a decade-long project that Gabriel worked on closely with Terry Southern's son, Nile. Also recently published is Silver Skin, a coming-of-age novel written by Spanish author Javier Calvo, "an elegy to the transformative powers of art, imagination, and the imagined other."Gabriel and ANTIBOOKCLUB are responsible for the publication of LJT's powerful, fictionalized memoir, Practical Blasphemy - the center of Episode 3 of this podcast. In Part One of the Degenerates, Gabriel and Calvin talk about: the beginnings of ANTIBOOKCLUB; working for Penguin Random House; money and morals; what it's like to publish as a small, indie press; some of the issues with surviving as an artist in today's America; The Hipsters; publishing translated works; the sale of Gabriel's beloved collections to fund the publication of his titles; and much more.You don't want to miss this conversation with Gabriel Levinson, a brilliant, frustrated, dedicated, bitingly funny renegade publisher. Find ANTIBOOKCLUB on Instagram @antibookclub.-----------EPISODE CREDITS:Produced, Engineered, and Edited by Calvin MartyMusic written, produced, and performed by Calvin Marty
In this week’s Destroy All Culture: Adam returns clothing, Aidan commiserates. Adam tries to navigate Apple TV; Aidan commiserates. Other topics: fighting God (and winning!) in Supernatural; the joys of Ted Lasso; the weirdness of watching William Burroughs trying to shove a very stoned Terry Southern into an orgone box; and a bit of talk about Star Trek: Discovery and the unwholesome appetites of Baby Yoda on The Mandalorian. Listen below or find us on iTunes!
Is this 1999 film ripe for a fresh debate, much like Die Hard, on its merits as a Christmas movie? Not really, but filmmaker Kyle Smith is back this week, joined by film editor Rehman Nizar Ali to discuss Stanley Kubrick's final film. On today's episode we discuss how the movie changes in viewings throughout the years based on the maturity of ones own romantic relationships, what early iterative casting ideas like Steve Martin or Woody Allen would have been like, if the cinemageography of the production design leaves the film open to a Room 237 interpretation, and Shane's obsessive love/hate for screenwriter Frederic Raphael's memoir of writing the film, Eyes Wide Open. Also: Whether Kubrick had a specific body-type for model/extras, how the real-world analogues of Terry Southern's novel Blue Movie relate, speculation on what the co-writer/director might have cut from the film had he survived until its theatrical release, and whether or not the Illuminati covertly murdered Kubrick for revealing the real-world secrets of their sex orgies on film.Smith is writer/director of the films Blue Highway and Turkey Bowl, which debuted at the 2011 SXSW Film Festival. Currently in development on his third feature, you can find Kyle and his film thoughts on Letterboxd.Ali is co-editor of recent films for Terrence Malick including A Hidden Life, Song to Song, and Voyage of Time. Other works include commercials for Facebook, Google, Guerlain, and the recent concert film, All in Washington: A Concert for COVID-19 Relief. You can also find him at his website.Eyes Wide Shut is currently streaming on Hulu.
Victor Bockris special - in conversation with David Eastaugh Written about Lou Reed (and The Velvet Underground), Andy Warhol, Keith Richards, William S. Burroughs, Terry Southern, Blondie, Patti Smith, and Muhammad Ali. He attended the British boarding school Rugby and Philadelphia's Central High School. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with a BA in Literature in 1971. While still in Philadelphia, he founded Telegraph Books along with Andrew Wylie and Aram Saroyan. He also published two books of his own poetry, In America and Victor Bockris.
A panel of special guests joins host Jamey DuVall as he explores the majority of films released in the U.S. during February of 1970. Guests include actor Stacy Keach, actress Dorothy Tristan, film analyst John Kenneth Muir (Horror Films of 1970s), Vincent Price Legacy UK and The Sound of Vincent Price curator Peter Fuller, And Now the Podcast Starts! co-host TD Velasquez, film historian Steve Haberman, screenwriter Fred Freeman, biographer Brian Scott Mednick (Gene Wilder: Funny and Sad), author Peter Brunette (The Films of Michelangelo Antonioni), film professor Melis Behlil, film professor Jon Lewis, photojournalist Alexandra Avakian, director Nile Southern, biographer Lee Hill (A Grand Guy: The Art and Life of Terry Southern), cinematographer David Muir, author and journalist Preston Fassel, film historian Darren Partridge, and director Arthur Allan Seidelman. For more information and advanced access to future episodes and uncut interviews, visit MovieGeekYearbook.com (https://my.captivate.fm/MovieGeekYearbook.com) . Support this podcast
A panel of special guests joins host Jamey DuVall as he explores the majority of films released in the U.S. during February of 1970. Guests include actor Stacy Keach, actress Dorothy Tristan, film analyst John Kenneth Muir (Horror Films of 1970s), Vincent Price Legacy UK and The Sound of Vincent Price curator Peter Fuller, And Now the Podcast Starts! co-host TD Velasquez, film historian Steve Haberman, screenwriter Fred Freeman, biographer Brian Scott Mednick (Gene Wilder: Funny and Sad), author Peter Brunette (The Films of Michelangelo Antonioni), film professor Melis Behlil, film professor Jon Lewis, photojournalist Alexandra Avakian, director Nile Southern, biographer Lee Hill (A Grand Guy: The Art and Life of Terry Southern), cinematographer David Muir, author and journalist Preston Fassel, film historian Darren Partridge, and director Arthur Allan Seidelman. For more information and advanced access to future episodes and uncut interviews, visit https://my.captivate.fm/MovieGeekYearbook.com (MovieGeekYearbook.com). Support this podcast
A panel of special guests joins host Jamey DuVall as he explores the majority of films released in the U.S. during February of 1970. Guests include actor Stacy Keach, actress Dorothy Tristan, film analyst John Kenneth Muir (Horror Films of 1970s), Vincent Price Legacy UK and The Sound of Vincent Price curator Peter Fuller, And Now the Podcast Starts! co-host TD Velasquez, film historian Steve Haberman, screenwriter Fred Freeman, biographer Brian Scott Mednick (Gene Wilder: Funny and Sad), author Peter Brunette (The Films of Michelangelo Antonioni), film professor Melis Behlil, film professor Jon Lewis, photojournalist Alexandra Avakian, director Nile Southern, biographer Lee Hill (A Grand Guy: The Art and Life of Terry Southern), cinematographer David Muir, author and journalist Preston Fassel, film historian Darren Partridge, and director Arthur Allan Seidelman. For more information and advanced access to future episodes and uncut interviews, visit https://my.captivate.fm/MovieGeekYearbook.com (MovieGeekYearbook.com). Support this podcast
Episode 200: The Crew's worried about the Russians polluting their precious bodily fluids as they discuss Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. This film is considered one of the greatest comedies of all time. It was a box office hit, and was nominated for 4 Oscars (The first of four Direction nominations for Stanley Kubrick, although he never won). Peter Sellers (performing in 3 roles here) and George C. Scott are super funny and their energy carries this film. The Crew discusses... If you like our music intro, head over to Soundcloud and hear more amazing music from aquariusweapon. Aquariusweapon can also be found on YouTube. Contact: themoviecrewe@gmail.com
WARNING: This episode has some very spotty audio. Due to the Coronavirus we are now recording remotely in the safety of our own homes. But, alas, our remote recording service failed us. We apologize for this, but the contents of this episode are so spectacular that I’m sure you will enjoy it regardless!We are joined by the wonderful director Barry Sonnenfeld (The Addams Family, Men in Black, Get Shorty) to discuss the pivotal film, Dr. Strangelove. Barry elaborates on how this movie has influenced his entire career. He reveals that the only way to make a comedy is to make sure no one working on the film knows it’s a comedy. And he also talks about the process of writing his new book, Barry Sonnenfeld, Call Your Mother: Memoirs of a Neurotic Filmmaker.Staff Picks:Drea – What a Way to Go!Alonso – The Masque of the Red DeathBarry – 2001: A Space OdysseyWith Drea Clark, Alonso Duralde, and Barry Sonnenfeld.
CONNECTING THE DOTS PART TWO: READINGS This is the second in a two-part series of interviews by Curtis Robinson with Nile Southern, son of Terry Southern. In this segment, Nile reads from his father's works, including the opening paragraph of Twirling at Ole Miss – widely considered the first New Journalism article.
When you begin to write, the words and phrases that leap into your mind will be the ones you hear most often. Go ahead and write them down. The best writers begin by just blurting it out. A willingness to write badly is the key to writing well. After winning the Pulitzer prize for fiction, James Michener said, “I have never thought of myself as a good writer. Anyone who wants reassurance of that should read one of my first drafts. But I'm one of the world's great rewriters.” Another Pulitzer prize winner, Bernard Malamud said, “The idea is to get the pencil moving quickly. Once you've got some words looking back at you, you can take two or three, throw them away and look for others.” The legendary Terry Southern tells us, “The important thing in writing is the capacity to astonish. Not shock—shock is a worn-out word—but astonish.” When you have written all that you wanted to say, look at it. When you see an overused phrase, replace it with a string of words that mean the same thing, but glow with a rainbow of color. When you notice a defeated, predictable word, replace it with one that carries a handgun. When the words staring back at you make you laugh a little, then look for a particularly arresting phrase – a phrase that carries handcuffs on its belt– and move it to the top of the stack. You'll often find your strongest opening line about one third of the way down from the top. I don't know why opening lines try to hide there, but that's usually where you'll find them. Now that you've got a strong opening line and a story full of colorful phrases, let's “Thomas Jefferson” that thing. Right after he wrote that snarky letter to King George, Thomas told us, “The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.” Boring people wrap a lot of words around a small idea. Fascinating people deliver big ideas quickly. Shorter hits harder. You're going to have some free time during the holidays, so write me a 600-word story. It can be about anything you want except politics. It can be true or fictional, happy or sad, tender or defiant. But it can't be boring. Indiana Beagle will choose the best of these and post one each week in https://www.mondaymorningmemo.com/rabbithole/ (the rabbit hole) during the first few months of 2020. Be sure to attach an interesting photo of yourself. Also, include your mailing address in case Indy wants to send you a little something. You can email the beagle at indy@WizardOfAds.com We'll talk again after Christmas. May your holiday sparkle with laughter! Roy H. Williams
CONNECTING THE DOTS If contemporary politics leaves you brooding over the wisdom that "Dr. Strangelove" brought to the silver screen, then rest assured you are not alone. Who knew it flirted with documentary? In this episode, we get a guided tour inside the likely thoughts of Terry Southern, who wrote that "no fighting in the war room!" film along with the landmarks Easy Rider and Barbarella and... well, he was prolific, profane and paved the way for many who came later. Terry Southern was also a pioneer of what would be called New Journalism and even Gonzo journalism. Curtis Robinson catches Nile Southern, Terry's son, in the lobby of the Beverly Hills Hotel and they discuss President Trump and the nature of men (not women so much). Nile Southern is also making a documentary about his dad you’ll want to check out, "Dad Strangelove" at http://dadstrangelove.com/
Welcome to Blackbird9's Breakfast Club's Wednesday Podcast , Stop Worrying And Hate Terry Southern. Tonight we will look at the history of novelist and Hollywood screenwriter Terry Southern. https://www.blackbird9tradingposts.org/2019/05/22/stop-worrying-and-hate-terry-southern-blackbird9/In the First Hour we cover the chaotic events brought on by the teachings of the Frankfurt School Marxists. Their mission has always been to establish a Greater Israel ruled by globalism under the direction of Talmudic Noahide Law and at the same time force all other nations to surrender their independent sovereignty. In the second hour, Stop Worrying And Hate Terry Southern, the host examined the life and works of novelist and Hollywood screenwriter, Terry Southern. From the changing moralities of history where the virtues of one age become the vices of then next age, to amorality of the jewish Sabbatean Movement of Sabbati Zevi, to the rise of Freemasonry as a "Peculiar System of Morality veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols", to the Purification Through Transgression movement of Jacob Frank, to the Do What Thou Wilt movement of Aliester Crowley, to the novels of Terry Southern like The Magic Christian and Candy, to the films Dr. Strangelove, Easy Rider, and Barbarella the host looked at one of the most awarded and revered comedy writers of the Cultural Marxist Counter Culture movement.
Welcome to Blackbird9's Breakfast Club's Wednesday Podcast , Stop Worrying And Hate Terry Southern. Tonight we will look at the history of novelist and Hollywood screenwriter Terry Southern. https://www.blackbird9tradingposts.org/2019/05/22/stop-worrying-and-hate-terry-southern-blackbird9/In the First Hour we cover the chaotic events brought on by the teachings of the Frankfurt School Marxists. Their mission has always been to establish a Greater Israel ruled by globalism under the direction of Talmudic Noahide Law and at the same time force all other nations to surrender their independent sovereignty. In the second hour, Stop Worrying And Hate Terry Southern, the host examined the life and works of novelist and Hollywood screenwriter, Terry Southern. From the changing moralities of history where the virtues of one age become the vices of then next age, to amorality of the jewish Sabbatean Movement of Sabbati Zevi, to the rise of Freemasonry as a "Peculiar System of Morality veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols", to the Purification Through Transgression movement of Jacob Frank, to the Do What Thou Wilt movement of Aliester Crowley, to the novels of Terry Southern like The Magic Christian and Candy, to the films Dr. Strangelove, Easy Rider, and Barbarella the host looked at one of the most awarded and revered comedy writers of the Cultural Marxist Counter Culture movement.
Actor, director, producer and counterculture hero Peter Fonda stops by the studio for a fascinating conversation about the making of "Easy Rider," his difficult relationship with his legendary dad and his encounters with Salvador Dali, Jean Cocteau and Ernest Hemingway (among others). Also, Dennis Hopper holds a grudge, Elvis straps on a helmet, Jack Nicholson replaces Rip Torn and Victor Mature gives a bravura performance. PLUS: The genius of Terry Southern! In praise of Christopher Plummer! The Monkees foot the bill! The Beatles find inspiration! And Peter names his favorite Henry Fonda movie! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
From the author of the acclaimed Can't Find My Way Home comes the gripping story of the rise of early drug culture in America. With an intricate storyline that unites engaging characters and themes and reads like a novel, Bop Apocalypse details the rise of early drug culture in America by weaving together the disparate elements that formed this new and revolutionary segment of the American social fabric. Drawing upon his rich decades of writing experience, master storyteller Martin Torgoff connects the birth of jazz in New Orleans, the first drug laws, Louis Armstrong, Mezz Mezzrow, Harry Anslinger and the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, swing, Lester Young, Billie Holiday, the Savoy Ballroom, Reefer Madness, Charlie Parker, the birth of bebop, the rise of the Beat Generation, and the coming of heroin to Harlem. Aficionados of jazz, the Beats, counterculture, and drug history will all find much to enjoy here, with a cast of characters that includes vivid and memorable depictions of Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Jackie McLean, Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Herbert Huncke, Terry Southern, and countless others. Bop Apocalypse is also a living history that teaches us much about the conflicts and questions surrounding drugs today, casting many contemporary issues in a new light by connecting them back to the events of this transformative era. At a time when marijuana legalization is rapidly becoming a reality, it takes us back to the advent of marijuana prohibition, when the templates of modern drug law, policy, and culture were first established, along with the concomitant racial stereotypes. As a new opioid epidemic sweeps through white working- and middle-class communities, it brings us back to when heroin first arrived on the streets of Harlem in the 1940s. And as we debate and grapple with the gross racial disparities of mass incarceration, it puts into sharp and provocative focus the racism at the very roots of our drug war. Having spent a lifetime at the nexus of drugs and music, Torgoff reveals material never before disclosed and offers new insights, crafting and contextualizing Bop Apocalypse into a truly novel contribution to our understanding of jazz, race, literature, drug culture, and American social and cultural history. Martin’s interview with Martin Torgoff was originally recorded March 7, 2017.
Writer-director Amy Heckerling ("Clueless," "Fast Times at Ridgemont High") drops by the studio to chat about a wide range of compelling topics, including: the double standard of onscreen nudity, the educational benefits of the "Million Dollar Movie," the blandness of romantic comedies and the genius of Slavko Vorkapich. Also, Amy sparks to James Cagney, salutes Mort Drucker, "studies" with Terry Southern and finds inspiration in "Ed Wood." PLUS: Ray Walston! "Jaws 2!" Praising Cameron Crowe! The mystery of Martin Brest! And Gilbert dances with John Travolta! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Show #126 | Guest: Nile Southern is a Boulder based filmmaker and writer. His books beyond Yours in Haste and Adoration include Now Dig This: The Unspeakable Writings of Terry Southern, 1950-1995 (edited with Josh Alan Friedman), and The CANDY Men: The Rollicking Life and Times of the Notorious Novel, CANDY (Arcade, 2004), which won Colorado’s Book of the Year for Creative Non-Fiction. | Show Summary: Colorado based writer and filmmaker Nile Southern’s newest book is a compilation of his father, Terry Southern’s letters. The book, Yours in Haste and Adoration: Selected Letters of Terry Southern, is a homage to the senior Southern’s love of language and storytelling. Terry was nominated for two Academy Awards - Dr. Strangelove and Easy Rider - and was an influential writer known for his unique, comic voice.
Pretty Ugly (Thomas Dunne Books) From Kirker Butler, a writer/producer of Family Guy, comes a satirical look at a dysfunctional southern family complete with an overbearing stage mom, a 9 year-old pageant queen, a cheating husband, his teenage girlfriend, a crazy grandmother, and Jesus. After eight-and-a-half years and three hundred twenty-three pageants, Miranda Miller has become the ultimate stage mother. Her mission in life is to see that her nine-year-old daughter, Bailey, continues to be one of the most successful child pageant contestants in the southern United States. But lately, that mission has become increasingly difficult. Bailey wants to retire and has been secretly binge eating to make herself "unpageantable;" and the reality show Miranda has spent years trying to set up just went to their biggest rival. But Miranda has a plan. She's seven months pregnant with her fourth child, a girl (thank God), and she is going to make damn sure this one is even more successful than Bailey, even if the new girl is a little different. Miranda's husband, Ray, however, doesn't have time for pageants. A full-time nurse, Ray spends his days at the hospital where he has developed a habit of taking whatever pills happen to be lying around. His nights are spent working hospice and dealing with Courtney, the seventeen-year-old orphan granddaughter of one of his hospice patients who he has, regrettably, knocked up. With a pregnant wife, a pregnant teenage mistress, two jobs, a drug hobby, and a mountain of debt, Ray is starting to take desperate measures to find some peace. Meanwhile, the Millers' two sons are being homeschooled by Miranda's mother, Joan (pronounced Jo-Ann), a God-fearing widow who spends her free time playing cards and planning a murder with Jesus. Yes, Jesus. A bright new voice in satirical literature, Kirker Butler pulls no punches as he dissects our culture's current state of affairs. It's really funny, but it's also pretty ugly. Praise for Pretty Ugly “To the pantheon of comic American fiction-kings – think Nathanael West, think Terry Southern - let us now add the name of Kirker Butler. In fine-tuned, generous prose that careens from screamingly funny to downright poignant, Pretty Ugly tells the tale of Miranda Ford, a pretty little girl with big-time, beauty pageant dreams. Butler has written a laugh-out-loud joy-ride of a book, the kind you don't want to finish, and find yourself pressing into the hands of loved ones once you do. But don't listen to me, grab it yourself. Kirker Butler is the real thing, and I can't wait to read his next one.”—Jerry Stahl, author of Happy Mutant Baby Pills “The person who wrote this book asked me for a quote, so I gave them one.”—Ricky Gervais “Pretty Ugly is everything you'd want in a novel: funny, poignant, exceedingly well-written. I look forward to reading it.”—Stephen Colbert “I love this book, and I think Kurt Vonnegut would have loved it, too. In fact, it might have been his favorite book of all time. Hell, I'm just going to go ahead and say it: Kirker's book is hilarious, and it was Kurt Vonnegut's favorite book of all time.”—Seth MacFarlane, creator of Family Guy and Ted “What I've read of this book I have liked!” —Amy Sedaris “Miranda Miller and all the people of the South that orbit her are the dunces of the Confederacy you've been waiting to meet. They make one shockingly bad decision after another yet you will still be constantly surprised and delighted by every outcome. Bad things happen to bad people. Good things happen to bad people. Hilarious things happen to everyone. And there's a funeral so nutty that the only person who gets out with his dignity intact is the dearly departed. You may think you know something about children's beauty pageants but Kirker Butler has created a world that makes ‘Toddlers And Tiaras' look like a nineteenth century book club meeting.” —Bean, KROQ's Kevin and Bean Show “A funny, slam-bam-thank you, ma'am, voyeuristic look at the world's most dysfunctional family. I could not put this book down!” —Jennifer Garner, actress Kirker Butler is an Emmy nominated writer and producer. His TV credits include Family Guy, The Cleveland Show, and The Neighbors among others. He has a new show, Galavant, which will premiere on ABC Television in January 2015. Butler is also the writer of the graphic novel, Blue Agave and Worm. Kirker grew up in Kentucky, and now lives in Los Angeles with his family.
Come and get it, listeners – Nick from Consequence of Sound comes back to continue our exploration of cinematic Beatles efforts with the strange, bizarre creature that is The Magic Christian! Based on a novel by Terry Southern, the film is a hippie-tastic, Pythonesque journey in which Peter Sellers’ obscenely rich social prankster adopts homeless Ringo Starr and takes him through one ham-fisted counterculture prank after another. The result is the kind of disjointed experimental film we saw a lot of in the 70s, but without any of the nuance or cleverness to ground it. Nonetheless, it’s a bizarrely entertaining watch, especially with our custom cocktail and drinking rules!
Long before Gordon Gekko told us "greed is good", Sir Guy Grand (Peter Sellers) embarked on a mad quest to prove that everyone has their price. Terry Southern transforms his cynical novel into a nihilistic lark full of celebrity cameos and Monty Python-esque gags, some contributed by actual soon-to-be Python members.
In place of the trial episode this month, Chad is joined by Sara Century, D'Manda Martini, Justin Wilder, Alicia Wilder, and Arturo Rojas to talk all about Candy Southern, in the most unexpected way possible. (Cover art on this episode by Seth Martel!)Candy Southern is named by Roy Thomas after a book called CANDY by Terry Southern and Mason Hoffenberg, written in 1958. The book is classified as SMUT. It's now 65 years old and it is.... difficult to explain. In the first half of today's episode, we review the book Candy, and in the second half, we talk all about Candy Southern's character. CONTENT WARNING: This episode explores many taboo and uncomfortable themes from the book, up to and including sexual language and discussions on the topic of rape, sexual grooming and coercion, incest, sex with minors, and offensive language, as well as topics surrounding race and ethnicity, sexual orientation, and disability. Please exercise extreme caution when listening.Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
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