Review: Rolling Stone: Life and Death of Brian Jones

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020
Images from the Internet

Rolling Stone: Life and Death of Brian Jones
Directed by Danny Garcia
Dudeski; Chip Baker Films; MVD Entertainment
98 minutes, 2020
www.chipbakerfilms.com
www.mvdb2b.com

In General Semantics, a philosophy about language, there is something known as Time Binding. This is the human ability to pass information and knowledge from one generation to the next. Over the past few years, Danny Garcia has been an important time binder for the First and Second Wave of the punk movement, both in New York and England. Topics of his previous films include The Clash (The Rise and Fall of the Clash, 2012), Johnny Thunders (Looking for Johnny, 2014), Sid Vicious (Sad Vacation, 2016), and the Dead Boys’ Stiv Bators (Stiv, 2019). Most of these have been reviewed on this blog.

For his current release, he delves a decade further back into Rock and Roll history, to a biography of Brian Jones, the infamous co-founder and guitarist (among a multitude of other instruments) of the Rolling Stones during what is arguably its most revolutionary pop-and-blues period. This ground has been covered before many times, but Garcia often has an eye for something different.

I’ve read a book or two about the Stones’ and Jones’ wild life and questionable death, but I do not consider myself an expert by any stretch in the tale, other than Jones’ ostracization by the band he helped form, and that he drowned or was murdered in his swimming pool in 1969. Therefore, I will be approaching Garcia’s release as a standalone, and not compare it to the information found in the other multitude of books and videos on just Jones, never mind the rest of the band.

Beginning with a quote that I’m not sure I agree with 100 percent – “When you think of the Rolling Stones in the mid-‘60s, you think of Brian Jones. You don’t think of Mick Jagger; you certainly don’t think of Keith Richards” – the film starts off where it ends up, with the farm built by Winnie the Pooh creator AA Milne in Hartfield, Sussex, UK, bought by Jones to escape the insanity (and I am going to assume to get away from the drugs) of being a rock star from arguably the second biggest band in the world at the time.

After a brief prologue at Hartfield, like a rock skipping over a backyard pool, the first act is based on Brian’s childhood into being an adult in Cheltenham. There are numerous home films (8mm, I’m assuming) and photos of him as a young man who by the age of 19 had fathered three known illegitimate children (not covered but curious, I wonder if he was involved in any of their lives in any way, be it physically or financially). Wild and rambunctious with a mixture of shyness and acting out, he turned to jazz as he learned to play multiple instruments and eventually blues as he settled in on the guitar, even perfecting the slide.

Meeting Ian Stewart (d. 1985) started the formation of the Rolling Stones. Ironically, of course, that the two who originally created the beast were the ones who were kick out. Ian contributes to this by telling his side of the formation via archival vocals.

The story is oft told about the Stones, but for me, I enjoyed the rare footage and stills; but the documentary really picks up at about the halfway point starting Act 2 when discussing the 1967 drug busts of the band, with Jones being especially singled out. Archive news footage is interesting in this context. Of course, it is not long after this affair that Jones is excised from the band in the middle of 1969, being in a rough shape from whatever he was doing on his own, including heavy drinking and being over-prescribed pills (as with Elvis, it was a common practice in those days).

Of course, the significant third and final act revolves around Brian’s mysterious death. It’s here, especially, that the documentary shines in that it does not posit what happened that night as most Jones biographies tend to do; rather it presents multiple possibilities and leaves it up to the viewer. This is a smart tactic. It’s a tale told through time: was it the builder Frank Thorogood, who according to Jones’ shifty manager Tom Keylock, confessed on his deathbed (how convenient); this was the focus of the book I had read on the topic. And what was Keylock's and Stones’ manager Allen Klein's involvement? Was he drowned elsewhere and dumped in the pool? Was the coroner and the police in on a coverup as they refuse to reopen the case with new information (the case is sealed for 75 years)?

Throwing all these and additional theories in together make it clear that there is more to the horse than just the tail, but we may never know exactly what happened in the Pooh pool in our lifetime, if ever. Not taking a position one way or another was a smart move on Garcia’s part, since it is all speculation at this point.

Some of the information used in the documentary are dismissive, in my opinion, as they are second hand accounts, such as by authors Simon Wells (Butterfly on a Wheel: The Great Rolling Stones Drug Bust, 2011), Chris Salewicz (Dead Gods: The 27 Club, 2015), and filmmaker Stephen Woolley, director of the non-documentary film Stoned (2005), from which some deleted scenes are inserted into Garcia’s release.

For me what was more interesting were the first-hand accounts of Brian’s personality and events around him by the likes of artist and author Prince Stash Klossowski de Rola who was with Jones the night of his arrest in 1967, PR specialist Keith Altham, Sam Cutler, who was the Rolling Stones tour manager in 1969, photographers Gered Mankowitz and Terry O’Neill, and musicians Alexis Korner, “father of British Blues” who mentored Jones as a youth, vocalist of the underrated the Pretty Things Phil May, Dick Taylor of both the Stones and the Pretty Things, and relatively obscure singer (on this side of the pond) Chris Farlowe.

It was the more personal interviews that I found the most interesting and informative, such as singer and actress and ex-lover (pre-Anita Pallenberg, d. 2017) ZouZou, and friends throughout his life, Graham Ride, author of Foundation Stone (2005), childhood friend in Cheltenham Richard Hattrell, and Pamela Wynn. Especially noteworthy is Brian’s daughter, Barbara Anna Marion, and the voice of his father, Lewis Jones, Brian’s supposedly overbearing father, talking about Brian picking up music.

For the DVD extras, there are some Deleted Scenes lasting nearly an hour, which actually could have been named “Really Interesting Stories about Jones and the Boys.” While I was most intrigued by tales of Anita, and her and Jones’ touches with the occult, the anecdotal interviews are interwoven and remain fun and interesting the whole time through.

Next up are two featurettes. First is “Behind the Scenes: Return to Hartfield,” a 4-minute cobbling of interviews with people discussing Jones’ death, and some local footage, including at a once-pub-now-residence where Jones would occasionally hang out (and apparently died owing a bit of dinero). Next is the 9-minute “Muddy Waters: The Scott Jones Files,” a fascinating one-person interview on what the investigative journalist found not only about Brian’s death, but about the local police reaction to the information back in 1969 and in 2010.

The last two extras are the film’s trailer, and a nice sized physical hard-paper poster in the clamshell case.

An interesting side aspect for me is that there is not a single note of music by any of the Stones (I’m sure the costs were beyond the budget) – nor Jones himself – but there is appropriate music all the way through of Blues and bands that have written songs about Jones. Of note, for me, was hearing Greg “Stackhouse” Prevost, which is always a pleasure.

As a whole, on one hand this documentary is likely to get lost among the Stones and Jones canon, but it nicely sums up a lot of the current known information and posits intelligently on what is not yet known, which makes it worth the watch.

Coming up next for Garcia is another Vicious look at Sid: The Final Curtain, currently filming.

THE DAVE CLARK FIVE [1982]

Text by Joe Tortelli, 1982

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2018

Images from the Internet

Photos can be enlarged by clicking on them

This article was published in FFanzeen, issue #9, dated 1982, beginning on page 5. It was written by the Boston-area music historian Joe Tortelli. This was originally reprinted with the permission of Tortelli from his own fanzine, Oh Yeah!, issue No. 1, then and now out of PO Box 370, Arlington, MA 02476, or joeyrome@yahoo.com. Joe has written liner notes for such artists as Delaney & Bonnie and the Fifth Estate, has his own music-related television show called “On Topic,” and is currently writing the biography of songwriter and performer Bobby Hebb (“Sunny”).

My own first memory of the Dave Clark Five was seeing the film Having a Wild Weekend at the Benson Theater, in Brooklyn, NY. At the time, I liked it better than A Hard Day’s Night (I was a bit late to the Beatles’ party). There must have been some kind of promotion, because I remember they handed out some black and white 8 x 10 stills from the film. I gave mine away to someone I was trying to impress (yes, a girl), but it didn’t really get me anywhere. Mind you I was 10 at the time… Anyway, I really liked the music in the film, and still enjoy the DC5’s recordings from that period. They seemed a bit different than the other Mersey Beat sounds to my young mind, and I did manage to catch them, if I could (pun intended) when they appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” – Robert Barry Francos, 2018

Mike Smith * Lenny Davidson * Dave Clark * Denny Payton * Rick Huxley

The Dave Clark Five recorded some of the most explosive singles of the mid-1960s. They were a phenomenally popular band during the British Invasion (1964-1965). Their fame and record sales gradually declined over the following two years, until they finally disappeared completely from the American record charts and our teen consciousness.

The DC5’s reputation was hardly enhanced during the ensuing years. The rock values of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s included such things as instrumental virtuosity, lyrical profundity, and musical experimentation – ideas not exactly prevalent on DC5 recordings. The “serious” (i.e., progressive FM) rock fans quickly dismissed the DC5. The DC5 did create pop music; some of the most exciting pop music the rock’n’roll world has ever heard. Their forte was the two-minute single: forceful, pounding rock’n’roll literally bursting forth from those timid vinyl grooves. Guitars, saxophone, drums, organ, voices: all sounding as one, one sounding as all. This was the Dave Clark Five at their best – all the strength, power, and excitement they could muster, squeezed into simple, yet well-crafted two-minute pop songs.

There were (as the more astute among you may already have guessed) five of them: Dave Clark was the drummer and leader of the band. Dave wrote or co-wrote all the group’s original hits. He was also one of the earliest rock stars to produce his own band’s records. Perhaps because Dave was a drummer, the DC5’s earliest recordings have a stronger, fuller drum sound than many other contemporary recordings (cf., the early Beatle LPs). Clark also directed the band’s business affairs and quickly realized the importance of the American audience and market.

Mike Smith was the lead vocalist and organist, as well as Dave Clark’s most prolific songwriting partner. Smith certainly did not have a great vocal range, but he was a great rock’n’roll singer nonetheless. He could wail and scream if necessary, but most importantly, he fit the songs and the songs fit him.

Denny Payton was a British Invasion anomaly – a saxophone player. Payton’s driving sax energized the group’s up-tempo material; he was the secret ingredient in the DC5 “sound.” Lenny Davidson was probably the least-heard guitarist in the British Invasion. The sax, organ, and drums all took precedence over the guitar on DC5 records, so Davidson was more of a rhythm, than lead, guitarist. Rick Huxley was the band’s fifth member and bass guitarist.

Glad All Over

The Beatles had just appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” for three consecutive weeks (twice live and once on tape). Their records were dominating America’s airwaves as no one’s ever had. Things were happening so quickly it almost seemed ridiculous to ask, “What’s next?” A week later, on the same “really big show,” we found out…

The Dave Clark Five were next. They appeared before America’s teenagers with neatly trimmed Beatle haircuts, matching suits, and black boots with the highest Cuban heels ever seen.

The DC5 exuded an enormous amount of energy on stage. Their music was direct, fast, and powerful. Visually, the audience’s attention was riveted to the roguishly cute organist/vocalist and the very handsome drummer. But the image of the band that still remains most clear and distinct from early 1964 is that one of the boys stamping their pointed black boots to the drum beat of “Bits and Pieces.” It was, one supposes, a calculated gimmick of sorts, but it was, at the same time, a genuine gesture demonstrating the band’s commitment to the primal rock beat. That stagemanship set the DC5 apart and guaranteed that they would be recognized in America.

“Glad All Over” was the DC5’s initial hit single on this side of the Atlantic. It arrived in early ’64, along with the “Ed Sullivan” appearance and a wave of hype about the band, which drove the Beatles from the No. 1 spot on the British charts. “She Loves You” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand” owned the top of the British Singles charts for weeks on end until the DC5 broke the Fab Four’s string with “Glad All Over.” Now the DC5 seemed destined to do the same thing in America.

Of course, this rivalry led to a flurry of press reports about the Beatles and their “new challengers.” Would the upstarts’ Tottenham Sound outstrip the dominant Mersey Beat? Who was better, the Beatles or the Dave Clark Five? These and other questions would be answered rather emphatically in good time, but in 1964, they did appear to be rather important [there were several Beatles vs. the Dave Cark Five teen-type magazines at the time, a wise corporate move to sell copies to the fans of both of the top bands – RBF, 2018].

“Glad All Over” was quickly followed on the charts by the equally pulsating “Bits and Pieces.” Both songs were Dave Clark-Mike Smith collaborations, and both were Top-10 hits simultaneously. They were joined in the upper regions of the American Charts by a powerful DC5 rendition of the Contour’s classing, “Do You Love Me.”

All three singles came from the band’s first American album on Epic Records, entitled Glad All Over. This LP established a pattern which the DC5 would follow rather closely on all subsequent albums. Glad All Over included 11 songs, all of which were rather short (two to three minutes), even by mid-‘60s standards. The emphasis was on the hit singles. While it might be unfair to characterize the rest of the material as filler, it certainly could not match the hits.

This and future DC5 albums included a couple of instrumentals (“Chaquita” and “Time”). There were also a couple of cover songs: the above-mentioned “Do You Love Me” and Maurice Williams’ “Stay.” Finally, there were several non-hit originals which tended to be patterned after the smashes, but simply were not as compelling (“All of the Time,” “I Know You,” “No Time to Lose,” “She’s All Mine”).

Glad All Over proved to be an extremely popular album, eventually going Gold (over 250,000 units). During the Spring of 1964. It was the only new rock LP which could hold its own on the charts against the three big Beatle records (Meet the Beatles, The Beatles Second Album, Introducing the Beatles).

During the ‘60s, bands remained popular by quickly following up their initial success with new material. The Dave Clark Five became quite adept at the follow-up, as they proved to be one of the prolific groups of the mid-‘60s.

“Can’t You See She’s Mine” was the DC5’s fourth hit single. It had the same rockin’ appeal as the first three smashes and became yet another Top-10 record.

Another album was also released. The Dave Clark Five Return contained the latest hit single, six other originals, plus three cover songs (including Link Wray’s “Rumble” and the [Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil] classic, “On Broadway”). This LP was clearly patterned after their initial album. Unlike Glad All Over, however, Return only produced one hit song, not three.

In August of 1964, Epic records issued the DC5’s fifth single of the year, the ballad “Because.” This song was a major change of pace from the band’s previous booming hits, and it indicated a new level of musical sophistication and lyrical sensitivity for the band (just as “And I Love Her” had done for the Beatles a couple of months earlier). “Because” went on to become a massive hit and one of their best-remembered songs.

An album featuring “Because” was also released. American Tour had a front cover seemingly patterned after the Beatles’ Second Album, and a title aimed straight at the teenage American consumer. As the single “Because” indicated, the DC5 appeared to be trying to widen their musical horizon somewhat on this LP (through the dreadful instrumental version of “Blue Monday” was hardly necessary). Ironically, the most memorable LP cut was a “Glad All Over” sound-alike, “Come On Over.”

The DC5 closed out 1964 with two singles, “Everybody Knows” and “Any Way You Want It” (followed by an album containing both hits, Coast to Coast). Having found success with both rockers and a ballad, the boys tried to combine both styles in the song “Everybody Knows.” Unfortunately, the tune did not possess a clear focus because of its changing tempo and because it lacked a memorable lyrical hook. “Everybody Knows” was the DC5’s least popular single to date, but it still broke the Top-15.

The Dave Clark Five finished their first year of pop stardom with a two-and-one-half minute definition of rock’n’roll. “Any Way You Want It” was the band’s most powerful single since “Bits and Pieces.” Propelled by Denny Payton’s driving saxophone and surrounded by the densest production imaginable, “Any Way You Want It” muscled its way onto the playlist of America’s radio stations.

Thus, an incredible year ended for the Dave Clark Five. They began the year as newcomers, challenging the Beatles in England, yet totally unknown in the USA. An appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” made them overnight sensations and the most prominent rivals of the Fab Four in the States. They toured the US extensively and were accorded the same frenzied approval from screaming fans as the Beatles. Their seven hit singles and three best-selling albums demonstrated their wide appeal to teenagers in no uncertain terms. In any normal year, the phenomenal rise of this British band would have been the music story of the year. However, 1964 was not a normal year; it was the year of the Beatles.

The DC5 had to “settle” for No. 2. They easily outdistanced the rest of the First Wave of British Invasion groups: the Searchers, Gerry and the Pacemakers, the Swinging Blue Jeans, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, Peter and Gordon, etc. In fact, their only real “rivals,” besides the Beatles, were two American groups who first charted in 1962: those blond, sun-tanned surfers from the West Coast, the Beach Boys, and those falsettoed Philadelphians, the Four Seasons.

The DC5 could say goodbye to 1964 with a good deal of pride and self-satisfaction, but they must have looked forward to 1965 with just a touch of trepidation and uncertainty. After all, their last two singles, while popular, were not as big as their earlier records. Moreover, they were now an “established” act, gazing backwards at newer and trendier stars. And in the ‘60s, there was no shortage of fresh faces.

Two of the hottest new properties emerging in late 1964 had quite different images. There was the “cuter than cute and nicer than nice” Peter Noone, singing with an appealingly exaggerated British accent. His band, Herman’s Hermits, had a hit in late ’64 with “I’m Into Something Good,” and was preparing a major assault on the American record charts with a series of sugar-coated tunes. At the same time, a group of brooding, unkempt Blues enthusiasts had just scored with their first Top-10 smash in the US, “Time is On My Side.” The Rolling Stones, with their carefully cultivated “bad boy” image, were getting ready to give teenagers satisfaction. And what of the Dave Clark Five…

Catch Us If You Can

The DC5 needed a strong single to maintain their enormous popularity in the highly-charged musical atmosphere of 1965. “Come Home,” their first release of the year, proved equal to the task. A sensitive and complex ballad in “Because” tradition, “Come Home” demonstrated the band’s ability to transcend the bounds of basic rock’n’roll. Despite the success of this record, “Come Home” was the final hit ballad of their halcyon period.

The obligatory album followed in the Spring of ’65. Like the other DC5 LPs, Weekend in London contained the hit (“Come Home”), the covers (“Blue Suede Shoes,” “Little Bitty Pretty One”), and the fillers (too many to mention, though one song, “Til the Right One Comes Along,” indicated that the Clark-Smith writing team were familiar with the recent “I’ll Follow the Sun” by another famous duo).

Weekend in London was the last in a series of DC5 albums whose liner notes referred to their ongoing rivalry with the Fab Four. These liner notes ask the intriguing question, “Is the Dave Clark Five the Number One group in the world today?” The answer is predictable, if unrealistic. It is significant to note that this “rivalry,” which once seemed so real, had become little more than record company hype.

The DC5’s second single of ’65 was a cover version of the Chuck Berry chestnut, “Reelin’ and Rockin’.” The Boys gave Berry’s rocker a powerful, straight-ahead interpretation with absolutely frantic Mike Smith vocals. “Reelin’” was the band’s first non-original single in over a year, and it was probably their weakest selling to date.

Yet another remake followed in June, when the DC5 released, “I Like It Like That.” This Chris Kenner original attracted widespread attention and airplay, which translated into another Top-10 hit for our heroes.

In the dead of Summer, the DC5’s long-awaited movie appeared. Originally called Catch Us If You Can, the film was released under the title, Having a Wild Weekend. While the movie didn’t exactly make people forget A Hard Day’s Night or Help!, the soundtrack originals and the song quality was consistently high. This album included a good mixture of rockers, ballads, and mid-tempo tunes, and even the instrumentals were more appealing than usual. The title song, “Don’t Be Taken In,” the atypical “If You Come Back,” and “I Said I Was Sorry” are among the best cuts from the LP.

Remarkably, only one single was taken from the soundtrack, but what a single it was: “Catch Us If You Can” is not as frenzied as some other DC5 classics, but is just as catchy and hook-laden, and even features a surprising harmonica lead. “Catch Us If You Can” was a smash; the band’s biggest hit in a solid year.

The DC5 were in the midst of their hottest streak since early ’64, and their final single of the year was not about to change that. “Over and Over” was a consecutive Top-10 hit, and their only song ever to reach the coveted Number One position on Billboard’s weekly record charts. The arrangement for “Over and Over” seemed to copy that for “Catch Us If You Can” right down to the harmonica interlude, despite the fact that is was yet another cover tune.

Nineteen sixty-five ended for the DC5 with the release of a “throwaway” LP, I Like It Like That. Apparently distributed to belatedly cash in on the Summer success of the title song, this was not one of the group’s stronger efforts. Even the front cover picture appears to be an outtake from the Glad All Over sessions.

Despite the final LP, the Dave Clark Five truly finished the year 1965 with a flourish. Their final single, “Over and Over,” was sitting comfortably at the top of the charts and their popularity was still intact. Despite intense competition from a variety of British bands and from a revitalized American scene (the Byrds, Sonny and Cher, etc.), the DC5 had every right to be pleased with their surge in the Summer and Fall. They must have been somewhat troubled, however, by the fact that three of their last four singles were non-original cover tunes at the time when Dylan, Lennon-McCartney, and Jagger-Richards were gaining more and more attention for their songwriting talents. Also, their last LP of the year, I Like It Like That, could not have looked or sounded very promising beside the Beatles’ Rubber Soul or the Stones’ December Children, two other contemporary albums.

The problem facing the DC5 as 1965 passed was quite simple, yet quite fundamental: rock music was changing, but they were not. While the Beatles, Stones, Beach Boys and others were experimenting with new sounds and techniques, sophisticated arrangements, and varied instrumentation, the Dave Clark Five were sticking with a tried-and-true rock’n’roll formula. The DC5 had achieved what they wanted (pop-rock stardom) and were not interested in changing or “progressing” to please others.

The DC5’s satisfaction with the status quo can, perhaps, be appreciated visually. During a period when pop styles were changing even faster than rock music itself, the DC5 looked the same as always, right down to their “Beatle” boots and haircuts, matching suits, and clean-shaven faces. In an era when other pop stars were breaking the old rules and making up new ones, the DC5 were still playing the game according to the 1964 rule book. By 1966, this just was not good enough.

At the Scene

Since the Dave Clark Five had charted a dozen hit singles in just 24 months, Epic Records decided it was high time for a compilation album. The Dave Clark Five’s Greatest Hits was issued in early 1966 and soon became their biggest selling LP. This “hits” package contained all their singles to date, except “Come Home” and “Reelin’ and Rockin’.” It also sported liner notes by Gloria Stavers of 16 Magazine.

The DC5’s Greatest Hits sums up the band’s major contributions to the mid-‘60s music scene: It includes 10 great songs from the blistering “Bits and Pieces” to the sensitive “Because,” from the uninhibited “Glad All Over” to the enthusiastic “Over and Over.” Typically, the four songs are less than two minutes long, and none is more than three. The DC5’s ability to produce powerful, succinct singles is well-documented in this fine album.

A new single was also released in early ’66. “At the Scene” was an attempt to recapture the energy, beat, and drive of the “Bits and Pieces” era. And it really does succeed as an energetic rocker with mildly “hip” lyrics (“Everyone who is lonely / I’ve got a place for you / Where the music pla-a-ays… / Till way past 2”). The problem, of course, was that the music world had changed since “Bits and Pieces,” and what may once have been a smash, was simply a solid, but unspectacular, hit in ’66.

“Try Too Hard” followed “At the Scene” in the Spring. With its piano and guitar frills and relatively sophisticated arrangement, “Try Too Hard” sounded more contemporary than its forerunner. It did not, however, set the record charts on fire. The B-side of this single was a three-minute drum and harmonica solo accompanied by vocal screams and moans, suggestively titled “All Night Long.” It may not have been the last word in avant-garde music, but it certainly was not standard DC5 fare either.

Two more singles were issued in the Summer of 1966. Neither the moderately paced rocker, “Look Before You Leap,” nor the ballad “Satisfied,” is noteworthy because it was the first ballad to be released as a single since “Come Home” in early ’65.

Two uninteresting albums were produced during this period. Try Too Hard contained the title hit plus nine other new, but uninspired, originals. Satisfied With You included “Look Before You Leap,” the title song, more originals, and a superfluous version of the Rascals’ “Good Lovin’.” These two LPs indicated that the DC5 had finally ended the habit of placing instrumentals and golden oldies on each album. Following the lead of the Beatles and Stones, the DC5 were increasingly relying on their own writing skills. Unfortunately, the DC5’s songwriting abilities did not match those of their more respected countrymen.

Dave Clark continued to co-write all the group’s original material. Mike Smith was playing less of a role in the musical collaborations, while Lenny Davidson and Denny Payton were becoming more important. None of the various writing teams tried to guide the band in a new direction so this condemned the DC5 to apparent mediocrity in a year of great musical change and experimentation.

The Dave Clark Five’s second “greatest hits” compilation in less than a year emerged as 1966 came to a close. More Greatest Hits contained  two more hits from early ’65 (“Come Home” and “Reelin’ and Rockin’”), as well as four more recent singles (“At the Scene,” “Try Too Hard,” “Satisfied With You,” and “Look Before You Leap”). The quality of this LP could not compare with that of their first “hits” set, and its sales slipped likewise.

By this time, the Dave Clark Five had clearly fallen from the front lines of contemporary rock’n’roll, both creatively and commercially. While they still managed to tour and make television appearances (they appeared on “Ed Sullivan” quite often), their record sales were declining sharply. In a year which witnessed the release of such seminal albums as the Beatles’ Revolver, the Rolling Stones’ Aftermath, and the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, DC5 fans had to be content with Try Too Hard and Satisfied With You. Unquestionably, 1966 was a disappointing year for the Dave Clark Five.

At the turn of the year, a new single, “Nineteen Days,” was issued. Neither this rocking single, nor the follow-up LP, 5 X 5, managed to restore the band’s sagging popularity.

You Got What It Takes

Finally, in early 1967, a Dave Clark-Lenny Davidson composition revived the group’s fortunes. “I’ve Got to Have a Reason” had a bit of a “Catch Us If You Can” sound and a catchy chorus. While not exactly a chart-topper, “I’ve Got to…” was the band’s best effort in close to a year.

Then, in the spring of ’67, the DC5 struck pay dirt. “You Got What It Takes” had been a sizable rhythm and blues hit in 1960 for Marv Johnson, an early Berry Gordy discovery. The DC5 remake featured surging horn lines and an effusive Mike Smith vocal. The upfront horn section represented a new direction for the band, while Smith’s vocal was one of his best ever. “You Got What it Takes” gave the DC5’s popularity and record sales a much-needed boost. The vital question fans asked was whether this was a fluke single or an overall resurgence for the band.

The next album was titled, cleverly enough, You Got What it Takes. This proved to be their most convincing 12-incher since the Having a Wild Weekend soundtrack. The new LP included the title song, “I’ve Got to Have a Reason,” and some strong new originals (“Play with Me,” “Dr. Rhythm”). “Tabatha Twitchit” was not a DC5 composition, but their version of the turn was pure contemporary pop. Unfortunately, it was not released as a single in the States.

“You Got What it Takes” did not usher in a new era of chart supremacy for the DC5, though they did manage to score again. Digging back even further into musical antiquity, the group released a single version of “You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby” the Summer of Love. “Baby…” was a “big” production number with plenty of horns, a brassy lead vocal by Mike Smith, and just a touch of “Winchester Cathedral”-style nostalgia. The flip side of the single, “Man in the Pin Stripe Suit,” is a delightful, Beatle-influenced composition, which features fairly adventurous (for the DC5, anyway) instrumentation (harpsichord) and production.

The final DC5 single to chart in the USA was issued in late ’67; it was called “Everybody Knows.” For trivia buffs, it should be noted that this made the DC5 the only rock act to ever chart with two different songs, each of which possessed the same title. The DC5 closed out their album-making careers with one final American LP, also called Everybody Knows.

Thus, as the year 1967 ended, so did a remarkable chapter in the history of rock’n’roll music. Like 1964, 1967 was a watershed year in rock history. The artists who dominated the mid-‘60s were supplanted by new acts (Cream, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Jefferson Airplane) with a more serious message and a heavier, more contemporary sound.

The Dave Clark Five, evidently, accepted their fate philosophically: the band returned to England, where they continued to record both as the DC5 and Dave Clark and Friends. And though some of these were released in America, none found any real success.

Epic Records did issue two more DC5 albums. The first was a double album of old material called, simply, The Dave Cark Five. Oddly, it contained only a few of the band’s hit singles. The second was released in the Spring of 1975 and titled, appropriately, Glad All Over Again / The Dave Clark Five’s Greatest Hits. This two-record set captures all the exuberance and excitement of the DC5 at their single-making best. It contains all their biggest, most memorable songs (“Glad All Over,” “Bits and Pieces,” “Because,” “Catch Us if You Can,” “You Got What it Takes”), a few obscure gems (“Good Time Woman,” “Forget,” “Here Comes Summer”), and thoughtful liner notes by Ken Barnes.

Interest in and appreciation of the Dave Clark Five has grown somewhat in the past couple of years, largely as a result of the emergence of the New Wave scene. And that seems appropriate, for the Dave Clark Five deserve to be remembered fondly by all those who enjoy driving pop and energetic rock’n’roll.

JOHN SEBASTIAN: You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice [1986]

Text by David Ancrum / FFanzeen, 1986

Introduction by Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2018

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This interview was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #14, dated 1986, by David Ancrum. I’m not sure where I connected with David or where he is now, so if you know him, please let him know this has been republished! While published in 1986, the interview itself took place in 1984.

John Sebastian’s infamous band, the Lovin’ Spoonful, tended to have quite pleasant sounds, which Howard Kaylan of the Turtles referred to as “Goodtime Music,” a nomenclature that would stick. Sadly, more people seem to know him for his solo “Welcome Back” theme song to the overrated television show, “Welcome Back, Kotter.” Even Sebastian wasn’t a fan of the song; I remember on a PBS ‘60s Revival Show, he quipped that he was glad that it was a ‘60s revival so he wouldn’t have to do that tune. I respected him for that.

I also admire that he’s kinda snarky in an honest way during this interview. He takes the author to task for certain wording (something interviewees have done to me, too). His image is squeaky clean, but he has a refreshing bite to him, almost making the title “You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice” almost seem sarcastic, and that makes me smile. – Robert Barry Francos, 2018.

The best rock and roll songs always reveal a moment in one’s life. Whether it’s the girlfriend who broke your heart in high school, the song that came through your busted, static-filled speakers in your first car, or the songs that your group played in your family’s garage. They develop a universe of meaning.

Like novelists who often mime their late teens and early 20s for the rest of their lives, pop song writers lock into brief moments within an individual’s life and age developments, an epiphanal portrait of those moments.

Watching John Sebastian perform in Connecticut recently, this was never more apparent. Sebastian, leader and chief songwriter of the late, greatly lamented group the Lovin’ Spoonful, showed he still is the biggest optimist in pop music.

“Summer in the City,” “You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice,” “Daydream,” and of coruse the classic “Do You Believe in Magic,” to name just a few, have transcended their limitation, and like the blues, might be with us forgever. Lifting us up in times of trouble, they may not be thick on eschatology, but you’ve got to believe in something.

For example, “Rainbow All Over Your Blues” is a wistful song, delicate and muted with emotions, and as always there’s that hint of nostalgia.

As he performs, one comes to realize that from anyone else, John Sebastian’s approach would be mawkish. From Sebastian, though, the warmth is so real that you believe. His songs are children’s songs – the past as recollected by an adult. They’re like someone looking back into the innocence of youth, the magic of being a child – as he sees it.

Between sets at a recent show, I spoke to the Prince of Optimism.

FFanzeen: What has John Sebastian been up to?

John Sebastian: I have been concertizing pretty heavily over the past couple of years. In some ways, it is one of the problems of being a grown-up in rock’n’roll; the fact that you can work very hard without a record deal and be relatively unheard of to the point where people are asking what have you been doing, right after you have come off an 80-day tour.

FFanzeen: Looking back on the events of the ‘60s, what do you feel were the positive and negative things that came out of that era?

John: I am frequently asked these questions and always unable to find a very meaningful answer. During the ‘60s, I was too damn busy trying to get a group together, making the thing work, getting it recorded and doing all the stuff that goes along with having a band. The band itself was remarkably unpolitical; anything that would put me in a position where I could accurate say, well, this happened and this didn’t happen, and so on. I am perfectly glad to be in 1984 and looking forward to the future. What our old friend Bob Dylan told us back then (that) I think still applies: “Don’t look back.”

FFanzeen: I have a couple of questions about the ‘60s. Do you think some of the ideals are still functionable today?

John: Richie Havens [d. 2013] came up to me yesterday and had a crack that put me on the floor. He said that he had just played a show where he was surrounded by gods of alternate energy; a kind of dispersing, helping and yoga information. He said, “You know, it’s really coming around again. I think consciousness that was a part of the ‘60s and lost in the ‘70s is beginning to come back around.” The source of it, I think this time, is from the Europeans. The Europeans don’t have this fagged-out attitude that has hit the U.S., and by fagged out, I mean tired out. I think that we have been finding the limitations that we didn’t know existed at that time and, in many cases, the resistance is very rich, and that can be very frustrating. This time we are getting our protest movement started again, but it seems to be coming from Europe, and I always find that when I go to Europe that kind of consciousness is very much in our lives and is here.

FFanzeen: What do you think happened to the Children of the ‘60s?

John: They had to go to work. They couldn’t just sit around and smoke dope. At a certain point someone had to pay the rent. It was the realities of living that confronted every generation. It’s a shame that it had to be such a big deal.

FFanzeen: Most of the music today seems to have very little value and yet your must still seem fresh, alive and vital. Why do you think that is?

John: I have been very pleasantly surprised by the longevity of the things that I have written. I never expected it. I was pretty much trying to write for that moment in time, without consideration for the future, but I have been surprised at how many songs have not sold a lot more records than the Spoonful’s stuff I do hear, and so that’s good for me I guess, but I can’t say I would have anticipated it.

FFanzeen: Are there any groups today that impress you? What kind of music are you listening to today?

John: First of all, I don’t agree with your generalization that there isn’t much meaning in stuff today. It is still the same mix of glopped and great stuff. The stuff was always there. In the ‘60s, people talked about what a time it was and so on, but there was this whole commercial folk music boom that was just a bore. We forget why the whole thing got started: it was Frankie Avalon records. I don’t want to get too specific, but there was a lot of junk then, too. As for stuff that I listen to, let’s see, I find myself playing Thomas Dolby’s new record (Flat Earth) a lot; I like a lot of the groups that people like now. The Police are doing wonderful things. Men at Work; I really like the Eurhythmics’ approach, and I think that it is a very different mood than the music of the era we are talking about, but not of less value. People say there was disco and that was such a bore, but the fact was engineers were learning how to record the shit out of the bass drum at that point, and that was something the Spoonful was dying for; we wanted to have a heavy bottom, but the equipment just wouldn’t give it to us at that point in time. Recording techniques were not that strong. I would think if the Spoonful were together today, we would be right in there with our little sync-drums and all the equipment of modern recording.

FFanzeen: When The Spoonful were together, did you think it was something special, or was it something as the years went by you get on to see that it had more significance?

John: No. Without false modesty, I knew right then that it was hot stuff. I was really glad to be doing it. I felt that we were the premiere American group and sort of an answer to the English Invasion. Other groups had more publicity and we were better organized from a business standpoint, but when you put them in a club against us, it was bad news. We were a hard act to follow when it came to live performances. We had such a ball and thought we were pushing it over; it was like the biggest joke in the world.

FFanzeen: Every year, Al Kooper gets the Blues Project back together and there has been some talk about Felix Cavaliere and the Rascals getting back together. [The Rascals are back together and getting ready to tour! – ed., 1986.] Have you ever thought of getting the Spoonful back together if for nothing but a tour?

John: Every time somebody offers me millions of bucks to do it, of course I always have to consider it. The fact is the guitarist for the Spoonful (Zal Yanovsky, d. 2002 – RBF, 2018] is very happily in Scotland* doing something else. A group is not the kind of thing that you can casually do on weekends or suddenly jump off and gouge the public on these $20 tickets for a month, and then go back to the work you were doing. It doesn’t really work that way. I am perfectly happy to pursue my own career and let Zally not be forced back into entertainment when he doesn’t want to do it. The fact is that I end up playing. In fact, only a week ago, I was playing with Steve Boone (bass) at a show at the Key’s, Key West, Florida. That is always a lot of fun. Steven keeps his chops up to a point where we can easily do that kind of thing.

FFanzeen: I’d like to ask you about some of the classic songs that you have written. One that got a great response tonight as “Darlin’ Be Home Soon.” How did that come about?

John: That was a reflective song that I was experiencing being away for a lot of the time, and rather than write a song about being away, because everyone was writing songs about being away and everyone was having that experience, I decided to turn it around and take the position of the one what had to stay home. It just seemed like an easy way to write the same song without it being the same song.

FFanzeen: A personal favorite is “She’s Still a Mystery to Me”; how did that come about?

John: That was very much reflecting on my early sexual life. That’s really what it boils down to; that moment when romance was so intense that even waiting for the girl was unbearable, let along actually getting to it.

FFanzeen: And, “Do You Believe in Magic?”?

John: That came about mainly because we had suddenly changed the clientele of this little night club in New York, The Night Owl Café, from basically a beatnik hangout to little girls running around there, and it was very exciting to have this complete change of clientele over a period of two weeks; it was an exuberant feeling.

FFanzeen: It seems so many musicians from the ‘60s who were successful are having trouble getting a record deal now. Why do you believe this is happening and what alternatives do they have?

John: The Popular medium is not famous for the longevity of its stars, something that I had to learn watching my father’s development. He worked a lot harder at his music than I do. He would practice classical music 6 to 8 hours a day. I noticed that his popularity had nothing to do with his achievements or how hard he was working, so I always take that as a kind of clue as to the fact that all of this is going to come out in the wash, and I may not even be around to see it. I want very much to be able to record. I hate the impression that it conveys that somebody is not capable of recording simply because they don’t have a record out. These frustrations are shared by better men than myself, and so I guess I will have to put up with that until such time as it comes around. As to why, I don’t really have an answer.

FFanzeen: What can we look for from John Sebastian in the future?

John: Well, over the last couple of years, I did an adaptation for the musical version of Charlotte’s Web that should be out. Last year I did three different soundtracks, one of which has come out: the sequel to The Jerk – The Jerk, Too (1994) – that was on TV a while back. And there were two other movies: one Michael Richie move called The American Snitch [1983] that I did the soundtrack for, I think that should be coming out soon. Also, I did the music for a Nixon-era political thriller called The Act. We are awaiting the release of that [he did the music to the recently released full-length cartoon, The Care Bears’ Movie in 1985 – ed., 1986]. And besides all that, I hope to record as soon as the tide turns a little bit.

* Zal Yanovsky would eventually open up a restaurant in Kingston, Ontario, titled Chez Piggy, where he was the head chef. He and his wife would travel to different parts of the world, and then change the menu entirely every few month to reflect where they had been. I had the opportunity to eat there a couple of times. Once, I bought one of his cook books and asked to meet him, but he refused; however, he did sign the book, and yes, I still have it (and no, I have never used any of the recipes). – RBF, 2018 

QUESTION MARK Answers [1981]

Text by Cary Baker / FFanzeen, 1981

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2017

Images from the Internet, unless indicated

At Cavestomp! 2002 - Pic (c) RB Francos

This article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #8, dated 1981. It was written by writer-turned-press agent extraordinaire Cary Baker.

There is no denying that “96 Tears,” ? and the Mysterians biggest hit from 1966, has one of the most infectious organ lines in rock’n’roll. I had the good fortune to see the band play in 2002 at CBGBs during “Cavestomp!,” a garage revival showcase series they were headlining. Between songs, he used the term “bay-behhh” a lot, as in “Hello, bay-behhhs. Great to be here, bay-behhh!” Needless to say, they were amazing. – RBF, 2017

Of all rock’n’roll’s “one-hit wonders,” perhaps the least is known of the arcane man by the name of Question Mark (hereafter referred to as “?”) who, with the equally-inscrutable Mysterians, created the Vox-riffing masterpiece of pop ephemera known as “96 Tears.”

The song, innocent as it was when ? wrote “Too many teardrops for one heart to be crying,” has enjoyed a phenomenal revival, thanks more than partially to Garland Jeffreys (who returned it to the Hot 100 this year) and to “Joe “King” Carrasco, whose Mex-merizing version was a live showstopper on last year’s Son of Stiff tour.

Now ? is back with four all-new Mysterians, touring at the peak of commotion brought on by Jeffreys’ cover. And without dispelling too much self-perpetuated “mystery” at the center of his non-myth, ? would like to make a few things crystal clear. Well, translucent, anyway:

Mystery No. 1: While certain rock texts espouse that ? is the nom de disque of Rudy Martinez, the mystery man himself insists it has been legally changed to, well, Question Mark. Asked to see an ID to that effect, he replies that he’s been refused one because no one believes him. Especially the immigration authorities, who deny him passports to the UK. “After all,” he reasons, “anyone can make anything up.”

Mystery No. 2: ? & the Mysterians are not from Brownsville, El Paso, or Austin, but rather from Flint, Michigan. “Outside of town and in the country,” specifically. The other original members (Bobby Bladerrama, guitar; Frank Rodrigues, keyboard; Eddie Serrato, drums [d. 2011]; Frank Lugo, bass guitar; Robert Martinez and Larry Brojas) were from Texas, he explains. Asked if ? himself, of obvious Hispanic descent, was born in Flint, he shrugs, “I won’t say.”

Mystery No. 3: After “96 Tears” topped the charts (the week of October 29, 1966, between “Reach Out” and “Last Train to Clarksville”), ? rebounded with “I Need Somebody” (peaking at No. 22), “Can’t Get Enough of You Baby” (No. 36), and “Do Something to Me” (which, karma aside, reached its apex at No. 96). Then, one would have thought, according to all logic, that ? would take the hint and disband the Mysterians. Therein lay Mystery No. 3. Fact is, there has never been a time that ? was without some version of the Mysterians. What’s more, he recorded (though not released) an album every year since 1969. “It was continuous,” he says. “Whoever came in, he was the new Mysterian. But every time I had a new group and it looked right to go on the road, someone would mess it up. I do have albums worth of material for each year.”

Mystery No. 4: A major record trade magazine recently reported that the original Cameo single of “96 Tears” was cut in a garage. Not only is that incorrect, but ? never sought coverage in the magazine. “I just called to see how Garland Jeffreys’ version was doing,” he says. “We were going to play in New York so I thought I’d drop in on ABKCO Records, who took over Cameo.”

* * *

The ? of today is of indeterminate years (“I never tell my age”) and sports a hirsute mane of shoulder-length black hair. Constant are the dark, convex shades that became his trademark a decade before there was a Ramones.

Coming to terms with the New Wave aided his renewed popularity. ? is proud to say that, “Elvis Costello bought an original copy of the 96 Tears album for $250.”

He likes much of what he’s heard, he claims, but doesn’t have a lot of time to spend listening to anyone. “I have heard Kraftwerk,” he says. “They play music with no drummer, no guitarist, no bass player, and no keyboard. Just four guys, and each has an electronic pad. If music goes in that direction, I can’t appreciate it. I wrote a song called, ‘He Plays Guitar.’ In ten thousand years, people are going to ask, ‘What’s a guitar?’ Just get a group of guys up there playing guitar, bass and drums.”

And you didn’t believe he was from within earshot of Detroit?

Central to the ? sound – then and now – is the organ. One hears a lot these days about the Farfisa, the matter-of-fact keyboard that spans an entire four octaves. Vox is the Farfisa’s close cousin, and served the original Mysterians well. “Now the guitar’s more out front,” ? says, “and we’re using a Hammond B-3 instead of a Vox. If I could find one, I’d love to have it because that’s the sound that happened then and can happen now. In Boston, we played with some new group and they had a real Vox. I almost walked out with it.” In an affected tough-kid Mexican inflection, he recapitulates his reaction: “Hey, we need that Vox, you know?!”

? has another taboo topic besides his age and birthplace: he refuses to interpret the vision behind his lyrics.

“They’re personal. I write for everybody. I figure everybody has the right to fantasize and put in their own possibilities. As soon as an artist says this song’s about so-and-so, that spoils the mystery.”

Why the recurring theme of mystery in his personal? ? won’t say.

“I didn’t just happen to say, ‘Do this.’ It evolved. See, I’ve been in show business since I was five. I was always dancing, always onstage with lights.

“My parents bought me a tape recorder. They would’ve bought me a piano if I’d wanted. I came from a family of ten, so it wasn’t easy. Anyway, I just sat down in a room and sang whatever was in my head and ‘96’ was one of those songs, instrumental arrangements and all.”

But, ?, is it not correct that Sir Doug’s “She’s About a Mover,” and Sam the Sham’s “Wooly Bully” preceded “96 Tears?”

“Yes, they came out first. But I had “96” conceptualized before they came out. As I said, my parents said they’d finance a piano if I wanted it, but I took a look at all those keys and thought, ‘It’d take forever to play this thing. And I have so much music in my head. I can sing it, but I have to find someone who can play what I hear.’”

? consulted the father of a neighborhood record store clerk who attempted to teach him to read music. “He tried to teach me the ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb” bit, but I didn’t have the time,” ? says, “So, he played ’96 Tears’ and for the first time, I heard the music I’d been hearing in my head, thanks to his old man.

“Right away, I started tracking radio stations, writing down how many times they played each song. People thought I was crazy, but I just had to do it. I mean, one day, I was going to be on the radio,” he says.

“96 Tears” was taped in a friend’s living room on a two-track perched outside on a patio. It was March, and the friend’s storm windows were still in.

“Not very acoustical,” he concedes.

The session cost $50. The organist came up with the two-chord run that set the tenor. “And I told him, ‘Hey, I’ve heard that before.’ Then it dawned on me. I wrote that. The old man at the music shop played it for me.”

“’96 Tears’ hit the top of the pops, while follow-ups were no more household than the Seeds’ “Can’t Seem to Make You Mine” or the Shadows of Knight’s “Willie Jean.” The band embarked on a Dick Clark tour and played Chicago’s Aragon in 1967 with the Four Seasons and Mitch Ryder. A version of “Do Something to Me” (“a year before Tommy James & the Shondells made it a hit”) made No. 5 in Louisiana and Hawaii, and No. 1 in their native Flint.

“If we’d stuck with original material, I’m convinced people would have related better,” he feels. Instead, producers kept feeding them outside contributions.

The eventual demise was far more external than choice of material. The Cameo label, whose president was Neil Bogart (later of Buddah, Casablanca and Boardwalk), collapsed. And since ? was on the road nearly perpetually, he didn’t hear the news until after the Cameo office phone had been disconnected.

Unreleased albums and countless personnel changes ensued. Finally, when the original organist found he couldn’t get along with the new members, the Mysterians took on a new, low-profile visage “with the guitar more out-front.”

There were plans to tour this year, as with every year prior. And then, suddenly, “96 Tears” was on the radio again, and ? was blown out of the water.

“I’ve never heard of Garland Jeffreys. And a friend called and said she’d heard my song on the radio. So I called the radio station and they played it for me. Then, in Columbus, Ohio, someone that called a radio station wanted to know, ‘Where’s the original Question Mark?’ I guess someone from Flint had a sister in Columbus. The DJ said, ‘If you know where he is, call us. If you have an original copy of the record, we’ll pay you $200.’ It just created a whole new interest.

“I like the Jeffreys version. He really listened to the bass line,” ? adds.

In concert, the new Mysterians have a Detroit sound and have the tendency to illuminate a ‘70s influence more than a ‘60s or and ‘80s one. Mitch Ryder’s current band comes to mind, as do the Rockats. And to the letdown of many, ? saves “96 Tears” until the tail end of the second set.

* * *

Mystery No. 5: This tour has been said to be a cash-in on the Tex-Mex craze with no more artistic merit than the return of, say, the Grass Roots or Crazy Elephant.

“I never get sick of doing my songs,” ? says. “One thing about a good song is that you can do it anytime. The band (conducting their soundcheck as we spoke) is playing, ‘Do Something to Me,’ which I recorded in ’68. It still sounds good to me. It doesn’t have to have a time period. If I’d done something disco, someone would have said, ‘Well, that’s good but it’s disco,’ and they wouldn’t appreciate it five years from now.

“That’s the one thing about an original: you can do it any time. The songs relate to any time anyone wants them to.

A later version remake: