Classic Rock

  • Ed Cobb — From Preppy to “Dirty”

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    In our last post, we briefly traced the rise and fall of the Four Preps.  Here are the boys at the height of their popularity on what may be their best recording.

    The first to exit the group was Ed Cobb, the six foot four bass singer.  He proved to be more complex, driven, and multifaceted than his tenure with the Preps suggested.  As a kid, he had been exposed to gospel in a black Baptist church that he and bandmate Bruce Belland would visit with Belland’s father, a local Hollywood preacher.  As time went on, he gravitated to a rougher, more beat-driven sound than the Prep’s repertoire could accommodate. He eventually became a successful producer and sound engineer, with over thirty gold and platinum records under his belt, who worked with acts including Pink Floyd, Steely Dan, and Fleetwood Mac.  In her memoir Storms (Chicago Review Press 2007), Carol Ann Harris — the girlfriend of Fleetwood Mac singer Lindsay Buckingham — recalls him as an “imposing figure” in “cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a denim shirt” with “cigar smoke billowing around his head.”  He ended his days as one of the country’s top breeders of race horses.  But it was as a songwriter in the mid-1960’s that Cobb achieved a dash of immortality.

    Today, Cobb is largely remembered as the author of this song by the Standells, which became the unofficial anthem of Boston Red Sox.

    Stories have circulated that the inspiration came from a run in Cox had with “muggers and thieves” during a 1965 Four Preps gig in Boston.  Given his reticence in discussing the matter and tendency to embellish, the truth of that may never be known.  But in their book Love That Dirty Water (Rounder 2006), the best source on Cobb, authors Chuck Burgess and Bill Nowlin provide additional insight.

    According to an account that Cobb’s widow “pried out” of him, he wrote the song on what may have been toilet paper while in a hotel room with the winner of an American Legion sponsored “Snow Queen” contest.  The beauty queen — like the “frustrated women” in the song — had to be back in her dorm by midnight. (Ironically, one of the Prep’s releases in the Fifties had been entitled “Cinderella”).  But to the beauty’s consternation, Cobb insisted on jotting down his idea for a new hit record while their time together was running out.  That same year, Mick Jagger was wailing over the airwaves that he couldn’t get satisfaction. Perhaps for Cobb, frustration was more of a female problem.

    Cobb wrote another song with an ever broader impact — but one that flew under the radar. (more…)

  • “Vera, Vera, What Has Become of You?” — Pink Floyd

    Lame DogClassic Rock, Vintage

    In 1980 or thereabouts, the hottest thing of which I was aware was the English rock bank Pink Floyd’s double album The Wall.  Some of the lyrics were disturbing, if not repugnant (“We don’t need no education.”). At least one song was superb (“Comfortably Numb”).  And then there was this track, which I found puzzling.

     Who was Vera Lynn?  As a young American of the pre-internet era, I had no idea.  A friend said, “Oh, it’s like some girl he knew in high school.”  That seemed as an good an explanation as any.
     
    By now, the actual story is readily available even on this side of the Atlantic.  As an infant, Roger Waters, the principal lyricist of Pink Floyd, lost his father — a conscientious objector who felt compelled to change his mind and volunteer — in the Battle of Anzio.  The Vera Lynn to whom Waters referred was the British singer most closely identified with the Second World War. She boosted morale by singing, “There’ll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover,” and  — most famously — “Don’t know where. Don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day….”  I had actually heard the latter song without making the connection to Pink Floyd.  It was used to memorial effect for the conclusion of the 1964 film Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.
     

    But let’s return to Pink Floyd’s question. The answer is improbable.  Vera Lynn — who was born in London Borough of Newham on March 20, 1917 — 

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  • 1963 — Pop Pandemonium in Israel

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    Fifty-five years ago, two thousand shrieking youths converged on Lod Airport, now Ben Gurion International Airport, in Tel Aviv.  They trespassed on the tarmac to meet an incoming flight bearing a group of British musicians who had taken the world by storm, starred in hit films, and even recently appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show.  Who were this fab foursome?  I’m speaking, of course, of …. Cliff Richard and the Shadows!

    While comparatively obscure in America, Cliff Richard is among of the most successful British musicians of all time.  He has sold over 250 million records worldwide and has had more top twenty records on the UK charts than any other artist.  He was originally marketed as “the British Elvis” and recorded what some consider the first British rock song.  Unfortunately, I have been unable to locate any concert footage of his 1963 tour of Israel.  But this clip from the same period gives a sense of what Israeli teens were screaming about:


    As best I can judge, Richard is a true gentleman who has avoided many of the pitfalls of stardom during his sixty year career.  That said, I am unable to call myself a fan.  I find most his material — the above clip excepted —  stultifyingly bland.  Indeed, listening to him renews my appreciation for just how remarkable both Elvis Presley and that other Fab Four really were. Which leads to a question.  Why didn’t they ever perform in Israel?

    In Presley’s case, the short answer is straightforward:  he never toured anywhere outside the United States and Canada.  That may have been due to the dubious immigration status of his manager, “Colonel Tom Parker,” who — despite attempting to pass himself off as a native of West Virginia — was born Andreas van Kuijk in the Netherlands and was rumored to have fled to America after murdering a woman in his home town.  But what about the Beatles, who traveled the world?  Following much speculation, the true story emerged with the help of research by historian Alon Gan in the Israeli State Archives.

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  • Esquerita — “A Back Seat to No One”

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    Sometime in the early 1950’s, an obscure singer named Richard Penniman spent the night in a Greyhound Bus Terminal in Macon, Georgia. He was trying to meet someone to have sex with. Among the characters he encountered was “Sister Rosa” who hawked “blessed bread” that was really only “regular old bread that you could buy at the store.” She was accompanied by a musician with enormous hands who ended up back at Penniman’s place and taught him to play piano. Penniman went on to release recordings under the name Little Richard that had such an impact that he has been dubbed “The Architect of Rock and Roll.” In contrast, the fellow he met that night — who later called himself Esquerita — was never commercially successful. But he enjoyed cult status among a small body of devoted fans.

    Esquerita was born Eskew Reeder, Jr., in the mid to late 1930’s (the evidence as to the date is conflicting) and raised in Greenville, South Carolina in an atmosphere permeated by the Baptist Church and its music. He attended Sterling High where, many years earlier, the renown gospel group the Dixie Hummingbirds had originally been founded as “the Sterling High School Quartet.” At some point, Esquerita made the leap from gospel to rock and began wearing a six inch high conk hairdo, along with flashy clothes, rhinestone-studded glasses, jewelry and make up.

    It is difficult to disentangle where Esquerita’s influence on Little Richard ends and Little Richard’s influence on Esquerita begins. But in his 2011 biography of Little Richard, David Kirby wrote that as a “gay, black, flamboyant, gospel-trained and immensely talented singer, songwriter, and pianist,” Esquerita was “the template” from which Little Richard “drew his own image.”

    After Little Richard left the music business to become an evangelist minister, Capitol Records tried marketing Esquerita in the hope of filling the void. A 1959 album was released with linear notes stating: “For the most stomping, all out rock ‘n roll, Esquerita takes a back seat to no one. In fact, he takes no seat at all — he stands crouched and weaving over his piano…. His sensational music, just like everything else about him, is truly the farthest out that man has gone.“

    Capitol also released a series of singles, including this one, which includes the lyrics:

    I’ve been walking all over town, running from door to door.
    Everyone I asked about a job, they give me the answer no.

    Another performer may have sung these lines in a morose or understated manner. But when Esquarita, reaches the word “no” — he nearly shouts it. It feels like a gratuitous slap in the face, but it’s also funny — as if the very indignity of life   (more…)

  • Sixty Years Ago — An Encounter that Rocked the World

    Lame DogClassic Rock
    On Saturday, July 6, 1957, St Peter’s — a parish church in Woolton, England — held a garden fete.  There were games for children and a 25-piece military band.  A “Rose Queen” was crowned.  Oh, and to keep the teenagers interested, there was also one of those “skiffle groups,” a British take on an American jug band that performed an amalgam of folk, country, and blues.   Ivan Vaughn, who played bass,  invited along a friend and introduced him to the group’s leader.  Ivan’s friend was Paul McCartney.  The leader of the group, then known as the Quarrymen, was John Lennon.
     
    According to Phillip Norman’s recent biography of McCartney, he had actually seen Lennon on prior occasions in their Liverpool neighborhood.  But Lennon looked to him like a “Teddy boy” — one of those young men who responded to the advent of rock and roll by donning “Edwardian-stype velvet-collared jackets” and narrow trousers “with accessories often including switchblade knives, razors, brass knuckles and bicycle chains.”   McCartney recalled that when Lennon got on the bus, “I wouldn’t stare at him too hard in case he hit me.”  This time, McCartney had the chance to audition.  Lennon invited  him to join the Quarrymen and the rest is history.
     
    Although McCartney did not play that day, the Quarrymen’s performance happened to be captured on a reel-to-reel recorder by a man in the audience named Bob Molyneau.  Thirty-seven years later, he found the tape.  While the quality is poor, you can listen to it here:
     

     
    In the interest of celebrating this special anniversary, I’ll also share another exceptional clip.  This may not be one of the Beatles’ best songs, but the energy and audience enthusiasm are irresistible. And it illustrates a side of Lennon’s character that is often overlooked.

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  • Phil Ochs — Searching for the Fool

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    He was one of the musical icons of my childhood. Back then, as now, he was known primarily for “I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore,” “Draft Dodger Rag,” and other overtly political protest songs of the 1960’s. But as the decade drew to a close, Phil Ochs sought a new direction. To that end, he tried writing more personal material in a style inspired by the early days of rock and roll.

    Among his late work is this curiosity, which tells the story of a lavish party disrupted by one of the guests. “While we were dancing,” the narrator relates, for no apparent reason, someone ruined the occasion by tossing a gourmet food basket into a swimming pool. It was “the worst of manners” and “the worst of taste.” So “who was the fool”?

    The song leaves the question unanswered. But it refers to a real incident at an actual party. And the unspoken punchline is that “the fool” was (more…)

  • The Everly Brothers — An Ode to Masturbation?

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    This next clip is truly a special treat. Here is the exquisite harmony of the Everly Brothers performing “All I Have to Do is Dream,” with members of Bill Haley’s Comets playing backup.  It was a number one hit in June, 1958. In the clip below, it’s followed by the Everly Brothers’ wonderful “new” song, “Cathy’s Clown.”

    “Dream” was written by Bordleaux Bryant, who, along with his wife Felice, formed one of the great songwriting teams.  In Rock and Roll: An Introduction, Michael Campbell and James Brody state that “[t]he theme of the lyrics is romantic love — commonplace in pop but increasingly on the wane in rock-era music.” On the other hand, in The Sound of the City, the British musicologist Charlie Gillet had this to say:

    Boudleaux and Felice Bryant … showed a remarkable flair for conveying the narcissistic self-preoccupations of adolescents…. “All I Have to do is Dream” joined the short list of teen ballads that never lose their effect for teenagers caught in a particular situation; the song came as close as pop ever dared to the taboo topic of masturbation, as the singer insisted that he did not need his lover because he could fantasize about her at any moment. It was not established whether “she” was a particular girl, or just the perfect embodiment of the singer’s selfish needs.

    While Gillett is entertaining, his comment strikes me as a tad overblown.  The song proclaims “I need you so that I could die/ I love you so….” — a remark that would seem to be directed to an actual person for whose company the singer is longing, rather than a mere fantasy.

    Also, is it fair to characterize teenagers generally as narcissistic? Or masturbation (assuming that is what was accompanying the dreaming) as selfish?  If the attraction is mutual, one would think that upon hearing this lament, the dreamed-of-other would be deeply touched. Otherwise, she or he is probably not worth dreaming about in the first place.

    In any event, a song intended to break down barriers by overtly celebrating masturbation did eventually become a hit on mainstream radio. Can you name it? (more…)

  • Pete Anderson — The Joy of Latvian Rockabilly

    Lame DogClassic Rock

    Here is a trivia question. What was the first American band to tour the former Soviet Union?

    That distinction belongs to, of all things, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band — a folk/rock ensemble best remembered for the sentimental tune “Mr. Bojangles.” In 1977, the U.S. State Department arranged for a Soviet tour — probably the first time the Kremlin authorized any musician to play any variety of rock music. John McEuen and his fellow band members were greeted with enormous enthusiasm during 28 sold-out shows. But the most poignant moment may have occurred off-stage when the band reached Riga. There, McEuen managed to evade his Soviet handlers and travel into the countryside to meet with a man who had devoted his life to vintage rock and roll, despite repeated, arrests, interrogations, and beatings. That man — Pete Anderson (aka Pitts Andersons) — reportedly gave up doing underground shows only after the KGB threatened to kill his daughter.

    Beginning in the late 1980’s, Pete Anderson — not to be confused with the American guitar player of the same name — was able to resume his career. Here he is with his band, the Swamp Shakers, giving a rendition of the classic 1954 song, “Baby, Let’s Play House.”

    While not widely known in America, Anderson was so acclaimed that (more…)