THE CYRKLE: We Had a Good Thing Going

Text by Robert Barry Francos, 1982
Originally printed in Blitz! Magazine #44, Nov-Dec 1982
Images from the Internet

The following interview with the lead singer of The Cyrkle, Don Dannemann, originally appeared in Blitz! Magazine, Number 44, which was issued November/December 1982. Blitz! Is still around and can be read at blitzmag.blogspot.com.

Though the band broke up in 1967, the Cyrkle remains pop-rock leaders due to two of their hit singles, “Turn Down Day” and “Red Rubber Ball.” With these to their credit and an acquaintance with Brian Epstein, they were swept along as an opening act on the Beatles’ final American tour in 1966. The fugue-like music backing the nasal tones of lead vocalist Don Dannemann gave the Cyrkle a unique and distinctive sound that remains in a class of its own to this day.

Today, the members of the Cyrkle are all doing well in their own respective fields. Earl Pickens is a successful surgeon in Gainesville, Florida. Drummer Marty Fried is a prominent lawyer. Guitarist Tom Dawes [d. 2007] also enjoys similar fortunes as Dannemann in advertising. In Dannemann’s case, success lies in the outer ranges of the music arena, dealing with advertising jingles and supplemental work in other area, such as on The Great Space Coaster, an inventive children’s program.

Above these even, in importance to him, is Dannemann’s wife, Eileen, and his two children. Recently Don and Eileen released a single, “Mother and Lover” b/w “I Did It For You” as a tribute to John Lennon. Rather than a sobby, “We miss you John” record, what they have is a statement on love, for themselves and the world.

The following interview with Don Dannemann was conducted at his home in New York City earlier this year.

Robert Barry Francos: How long have you been playing the guitar?

Don Dannemann: I started playing in eighth grade. I took piano lessons before that. I took some guitar lessons when Elvis Presley first became popular. I started at the beginning of high school, somewhere around 1967. I got a tape recorder early on in high school for my bar mitzvah, I think. Later on, I got a second tape recorder. When I got the second tape recorder, I couldn’t wait to overdub! I couldn’t wait to sing along with myself. The first thing I did was all the parts on “In the Still of the Night.”

RBF: The Five Satins.

Don: Yeah, right. I did all the parts and sang the lead. First, I sang the lead acapella. Then I got up to the tape recorder, turned it on, put the mike in front of the second tape recorder, put the mike in front of me, tried to balance it and sing together. I went back and forth about five times. By the fifth generation, it was very hissy and mushy. That’s what got me going into music.

When I went to college, I had envisioned that I wouldn’t be into rock and roll at all. I started cultivating a taste toward jazz at the end of high school. I began to like it, but never really played it. When I got to college, I was so happy to hear that people still liked rock and roll. So then I started listening only to rock and roll. I met a couple of guys in freshman year. We called ourselves the Rondells. I think there were a lot of Rondells then. I never liked the name that much, actually, when we first got together. Anyway, we were the hot-shit band on campus at Lafayette College in New York. By the time we got to be juniors and seniors, having built ourselves up, we were the band to get for fraternity parties. We began to make pretty decent money. I don’t know what bands make now, but we were making about $400 a night. We would get jobs as far away as Penn State. When we gout out of college, we were about to break up. Tommy had a half year to go. Earl Pickens and I had graduated. Earl played keyboards and sometimes bass. Tommy played bass and sometimes guitar. I was working for my father at a sheet metal factory.

RBF: So that’s how you got the title of “Sheet Metal Prince” [as stated in the liner notes of the Red Rubber Ball album

Don: Right. We were playing in Atlantic City the summer we graduated. Earl was still playing with us. We had played there the summer before, at the Alibi, right off the boardwalk. That summer, Nat Weiss turned up. He was a good friend of Brian Epstein. He wasn’t into rock at all. He was a matrimonial lawyer and a friend of Brian’s. He liked us. I wanted to work for my father to bide some time as I was in the Coast Guard reserves. Tommy, Marty Fried and myself still played as a trio occasionally. We made a couple of demos on our own. They were songs we had written ourselves. We recorded them in stereo. I was scheduled to play them for Nat Weiss the night of the blackout in 1965. Of course I didn’t. I went the week after.

Stereo headphones were new at that time. Nat was hearing stereo headphones for the first time. You could really see it by the look on his face! Next he said, “Let me introduce you to Brian Epstein.” Nat invited me to a party in Manhattan, and Nat wasn’t there! We really felt out of place. Finally he came in and said, “Oh there you are. Let me introduce you to Brian.” Sure enough, there was a limousine outside and Brian Epstein was sitting inside the limousine. He escorted me to the limousine. Nat said, “Brian Epstein, I’d like you to meet Don Dannemann, one of the finest musicians I know.” I shook his hand and we exchanged maybe two works back and forth: “Hello. How are you?” sort of stuff. Then Nat said, “Okay, glad to see you, Don,” and I was escorted out. They closed the door and off went the limousine into the night. I don’t remember the exact chronology, but he got us jobs at a couple of places. One was at Trude Heller’s in New York City. We did lousy there.

RBF: How come?

D on: Right then, the Young Rascals were big. That stuff was making it happen. It was loud and harder than we were. We were like the Count Five, the Beach Boys or the Beatles. Somehow, it wasn’t like that hard, dirty stuff. This is what the club scene was like back then. We did well at colleges.

Anyway, we played a club that Christmas time called the Downtown at One Sheridan Square in New York City. We did pretty good there. Nat was trying to find us a producer. That’s where he tried to sell us. That’s when John Simon saw us and signed us to Columbia. Then Tommy heard “Red Rubber Ball” from a friend of his, who had a publishing company with Paul Simon, who wrote the song.

RBF: Charring Cross?

D on: No. What was its name? Barry Cornfield had a publishing company with Paul Simon, and he was a friend of Tommy’s. That’s how we got “Red Rubber Ball.” That was one of the things we chose to perform. I still don’t quite understand how it happened. It’s a nice song.

We turned down “The 59th Street Bridge Song.” We had our next song picked out, “Please Don’t Ever Leave Me.” It was our first flop.

RBF: Did Earl Pickens play on the first album?

Don: You can’t really hold me to this, although we saw Earl last year and we talked about the good old days. I don’t think he played on “Red Rubber Ball,” but I think he did play on “Turn Down Day.” I don’t remember the rest of the album.

RBF: What about keyboardsman Michael Losekamp?

Don: No idea. Michael Losekamp was not an original member, going with us to Lafayette and all that. He auditioned and got the part of keyboard player. I have no idea whatever happened to Michael Losekamp after the group broke up. We liked him and all, but we weren’t good friends. [According to Wikipedia, Losekamp became an engineer for AT&T and an active musician in Ohio – RBF, 2010]

RBF: Did you have any trouble opening for a band as well-known as the Beatles?

Don: No, it was actually okay opening for the Beatles. We were not the only group. There were several. There was only one group that was basically unknown, the Remains. It was them, the Ronettes and Bobby Hebb. At that time, the three of us were pretty big hits. To the best of my recollection, we got pretty good receptions.

There was one concert where it was just about to rain and they had to get the Beatles on. But it wasn’t really raining yet, so we followed the Beatles. The Beatles opened for us! The other bands had already been on, so we were the only ones after them.

RBF: Do you have any strange or weird anecdotes about the Cyrkle days?

Don: No, I can’t think of anything weird. I would say that the weirdest thing is that there is not much weird. We were very together in college. But as a hit group, I think the fact that we were not weird was unnatural.

RBF: Why did the Cyrkle break up?

Don: Because the group was not being successful, for two reasons: One is the fact that we were not really exciting personalities. Though we did have a very good college concert, we didn’t draw people. But when people did come, like at a college concert, everybody came because it was the only thing happening on campus that night. So when people came, we were very well received. Standing ovations, wild applause and all that stuff. But we didn’t draw. Second, I think, was a poor choice of material and no proper PR. We broke up in 1967.

RBF: Didn’t you do the Seven-Up commercial in 1968?

Don: Yes. That’s when the Cyrkle was just breaking up. Tommy Dawes wrote the spot. That was the first uncola!

RBF: On the sleeve of your new single, you claim that the name Cyrkle was given by John Lennon. But on your first album, it states that it was Brian Epstein who gave it.

Don: Brian handed me a card and said, “Here is your name,” at one of our recording sessions. I always thought it was him. But I saw Earl last year, and Earl said, “No, no, no! It was John who gave the name to Brian.”

RBF: Do you ever envision a reunion gig for the Cyrkle?

Don: I can’t imagine it. If the opportunity came up, I can imagine Earl, because he’s not in the business. Don’t think Tommy would want to do it. I don’t have much of an urge to do it. It’s nice to do these projects with Eileen. If something happens with them, that’s nice, too!



One of my favorite songs by the Cyrkle:

Tribute to a Mixed Tape, #2

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Videos from the Internet

I put this cassette together in the 1990s, when people still made mixed tapes. It was for traveling in the car, as it had a cassette player and it seemed I was always going somewhere. Certainly, there was nothing on the radio to which I wanted to listen (and that is still true).

In 2001, I starting making a series of six-hour drives up to western New England, and for that summer I often had my granddaughter with me. At the time she was 8 years old, and was heavily into Britney and the like. I was quite proud of her that summer because she really got into some Bollywood music I had in the car. But that’s another tape, and here is this one. It seems I played the first side a lot around her, but judiciously. Some of her reactions at the time, will be included here, if you wonder why I bring her up.

SIDE 1

The Cyrkle – I Wish You Could Be Here
The Cyrkle were know for a number of things, such as “Turn Down Day,” “Red Rubber Ball,” being the only American band managed by Brian Epstein, and for playing the last gig with the Beatles at Candlestick Park, which was also their own swan song. The reason for the Cyrkle’s split was that their second album tanked. This was a shame, because there were a couple of really great tunes on it, including this one. Played in a dissonant tone, each stanza climbs one scale, and yet Don Danneman’s voice is clear throughout as he misses the woman who recently left him. Sad song yes, but beautiful (“I keep listening for your footsteps / Or your key turn in the door / I sure could use your company / But we’ve been through that before”).

Bugs Bunny – I’m Going Cuckoo
This song, which I taped off the television, is from one of the very early cartoons, when Bugs was short and stout, and still sounded like Woody Woodpecker, rather than the iconic look and sound that would crystallize in the just- pre-World War II years. The song is brilliant in its non-sequiter imagery, many of which were played out during the song (such as, “Please pass the ketchup / I think I’ll go to bed / Hoo!”)

Mystic Eyes – My Time to Leave
The grand-kinder was impressed that I was a friend of the lead singer of a recorded song, Bernie Kugel. Every time this came on, I would say, “Yay, Bernie!” After a few days, this annoyed her. After a few more, she was doing it with me. This was one of the early tracks of Mystic Eyes, after the demise of Bernie’s previous group, the Good. It is similar to the Cyrkle song in that it is about the break-up, but in this case, the singer is the one leaving (because it is his time, you see…). This is one of Bernie’s strongest early songs, which is saying a lot considering Bernie constructs some killer pop garage tunes. I love the line, “My mind stuck on you like a magnet,” and it is hard to be still during this total beat-fest with a bit of a calliope swirling feel.

Deaf School – Golden Showers
I would fast forward over this song when the kid was in the car, for obvious reasons. Not that I thought she would understand the meaning of it back then, but the last thing I needed was her walking around the house singing it (e.g., “A touch of madness in us all they say / But I don’t do this every day / I get relief from stressful hours / I like those golden showers”). Bad enough she was going around singing, at the top of her lungs, “I’m not that innocent!” Scary. Anyway, while I do not imbibe in the practice this song portrays, it is, nevertheless, a great pop tune, full of great beats and a building power.

Fire, Inc – Tonight Is What it Means to Be Young
This is the end theme to the cult film, Streets of Fire (if you haven’t seen it, you should). It is everything I would normally not like in ‘80s music: overproduced and overdramatic; however, it is one of my favorite songs. I must admit, for those who have seen the film, I like the movie version better because the handclapping within the film takes it to a HNL (hole nother level, for we Keegan-Michael Key fans), but as the film fades out there is talking over the end of the song, I chose the soundtrack rendering. The granddaughter fell in love with the song, too, and when the key change happens during one of the musical breaks, we’d both raise our hand (palms down) to indicate its rising, and laugh.

Mike Oldfield – Five Miles Out
Oldfield was mostly known for his theme to The Exorcist, “Tubular Bells,” but I also like this piece. A bit overwrought, it is about a flyer that is running on fumes and is trying to make it to the airport while in the eye of a hurricane (“Five miles out / Just hold your head in two”). It is a very theatrical piece, which I became familiar with through its video, but came to love independently.

Trashmen – Surfin’ Bird
Papa-Oo-Mow-Mow, indeed! Since everybody knows that the bird is the word, I won’t explain this piece, but here is the meta-story: the kid hated this song, because it was just so stupid, in her words. It would come on, and she would just roll her eyes, annoyed. In the fall of 2008, I showed up for a family visit to celebrate her Sweet 16, and she was all excited. “Did you see Family Guy!? The whole show was about that crazy bird song you used to play! They kept doing it over and over! It was great!” She remembered it after 7 years. Wow, the power of stupid songs, I guess, but I felt like I had done some good in the world.

Ventures – Pipeline
This was definitely one of the superior versions of the song, and one of the better instrumentals to hit the top 10 (and there were many in the ‘50s and ‘60s). There are plenty of good interpretations, including by Johnny Thunders, but this one takes it. It starts off so subtle with feather-light string picks, which turn into bass rhythms, and the listener is hooked even before the core melody starts. I firmly believe that this song started the surf music craze as much as the Beach Boys and Dick Dale.

SIDE 2 –

Jonathan King – Mary, My Love
Despite my disagreeing with King on his musical philosophies (I interviewed him in the early ‘80s), and especially on his troublesome vocation (look it up), he did write some great songs. Yeah, a lot of his work is crap (e.g., a disco version of “Una Poluma Blanca” and “Hooked on a Feeling” with the ooga-cha-kaas, an idea which was stolen by Blue Swede), but I really like this reworking of Orbison’s “Pretty Woman” theme. I have a running disagreement with Boston musician / publicist Joe Viglione on the meaning of the ending (I say she comes to protagonist, Joe says he rejects her); whatever, it is a well-written album cuts from the ‘70s). Yes, that is King in the video, as this is HIS official release.

Grease Broadway Soundtrack – All Shook Up
They screwed up the movie in many ways, one of which was by dropping this song for the tedious and musically out-of-place “One That I Want.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can hear you out there saying, “But I loved that song!” Fiddlesticks. “All Shook Up” was much better. Barry Bostwick’s Danny was stronger than Revolta, and while I like some of the early work of Newton-John (i.e., her country period), Carole Demas of The Magic Garden was a great Sandy. It felt moving when Bostwick wailed, “Got a fever / 104 Fahrenheit / Need your lovin’ / Can I come over tonight / Feelin’ low down / My equilibrium’s shot / Give me that tranquilizer you got!” As she turns on the “bitch,” Carole was much more believable in this exchange:
Danny: C’mon an’ take my ring, coz you’re my match
Sandy: Well I still think there’s strings attached
D: You’re writin’ my epitaph
S: Well that’s just tough-and-a-half
D: You’re gonna make me die
S: Don’t make me laugh!

David Essex – Rock On
David’s only hit in the US, this is a spooky, echo-riddled, and cryptic ‘50s homage. While disconnected here, David was associated with the ‘50s a lot in the UK because, in part, to a few films in which he was the lead that took place in that time period (e.g., That Will Be the Day). The song’s beat is hypnotic and the rhythm of the lyric patter with David’s voice makes this a kind of zen-lite experience. Plus, once heard, it’s hard to get out of the head.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_mzadEFuP4

Grass Roots – Bella Linda
While this song was a hit, it is not one of their biggest, and tends to get forgotten. That is a shame. It is sort of a whiney version of “Lightening Strikes” (i.e., I was a screw-up, still am, and may be for a while, so please forgive and wait), while the lyrics plead and cajole, but with great harmony. Mind you, the whiniest song is, arguably, the Seeds’ “Can’t Seem To Make You Mine” (another classic, recently used for a TV commercial), but this one is up there. You can’t help but feel sorry for the guy, much like Robert Klein’s beggar screaming, “Pleeeeeease!” If one looks at a Grass Roots’ greatest hits collection, it is amazing how many times one will go, “Oh, yeah! I love that song!”

Deaf School – All Cued Up
Deaf School – I Wanna Be Your Boy
Yes, two in a row. I’m not quite sure why, but Deaf School seemed to be left out of a number of punk histories that focus on England. They were a true egalitarian punk group that started out of pretty bourgeois circumstances. “All Cued Up” is Betty Bright singing about waiting on a line (“I don’t remember a place / I don’t remember a time / When you got what you wanted / Without waiting in line”). However, “I Wanna Be Your Boy” is a white-ska masterpiece, starting off with a slow rhythm, which doubles, then again, and again, repeatedly. And just when you think they can’t go any faster, they double it once more. Killer tune.

Daddy Cool – Baby Let Me Bang Your Box
If I remember correctly, Daddy Cool was an Australian band in the ‘80s. Here, they cover a ‘50s doo-wop innuendo-laden tale of playing piano to perk up a boring party (“Baby let me play your 88s / I’m gonna play ‘till the whole house rocks”). Amazing they gave “Louie Louie” such a hard time, when this one was so much more blatant. Seems like the perfect song to end the tape, on an up beat and wanting more.