Two on THE ANIMALS (1984)

Text by Mary Anne Cassata, Robert Barry Francos, with Michael McDowell
Images from the Internet


This may get a little confusing, but here we go:

The first article/interview with British scene-makers Eric Burdon and the Animals, is from FFanzeen number 12, from 1984. It was written by Mary Anne Cassata. It sets up the following Q&A interview which was done by Robert Barry Francos and Mary Anne Cassata, and was originally published in Blitz magazine, issue #49, dated May-June 1984. The second half is reprinted with the kind permission of the Blitz publisher, Michael McDowell.

To give you the bigger picture: Rock writer - and my friend - Mary Anne Cassata had managed to get us into the Animals show at the Beacon Theater in New York City in late 1983. I had already seen the show in Buffalo with Bernie Kugel and Mad Louie (“the vinyl junkie”), so I knew we were in for nearly three hours of non-stop excitement. They didn’t disappoint.

After the grueling show, the two of us went backstage. Alan Price was already long gone, having had a limo waiting outside the back door; as soon as the show was over, he just split, leaving his stuff for the roadies to handle.

The Animals’ dressing room backstage was not large, being “L” shaped and about the size of an average living room, but it was packed. The first person I saw was Chas Chandler (d. 1996). I said hello, and he tiredly said hi back. Then I asked him, “Why do you think Slade never made it here in the States? I saw them a couple of times in the early ‘70s, and they were great.” He became very enthused, talking about what it was like managing them, and how they deserved better. We talked for a short while, and then he had other people to greet. I certainly appreciated the attention.

After saying goodbye, I turned the corner and saw Eric in the corner of the densely smoke-filled room (many substances were being inhaled there), surrounded by some hangers-on. I knew I would get one question in, so I turned on the tape recorder and asked him about the blues. His eyes focused, and as he was so happy to talk about his favorite topic, we chatted for a long time, until someone announced that the band had to get to the after-party for Saturday Night Live. With that we shook hands, and we left to get some relatively fresh air.

The Animals were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1994.
The first piece below is Mary Anne’s, as it tells of the Animals’ history, and sets up the interview, from Blitz, which follows. As we both used the same interview material, there is some redundancy, but the Q&A is more complete, so there is a bit more info for the starved fan. – RBF, 2010

THE ANIMALS: It’s Their Lives!

Text by Mary Anne Cassata
© FFanzeen, 1984

The ‘60s music is returning and the Animals are a vital part of it. As with most reunions, hopeful rock bands often fall short, somewhere between a disappointment and disaster. Either the spirit force isn’t present or yesterday’s music doesn’t quite mesh with today’s modern rock sounds.

This, however, is not true for the brawling British blues rock band from Newcastle, England. There’s no denying the Animals had its share of personality conflicts. This inevitably let to the band’s demise in the mid-‘60s, but the music never suffered as a result. The original Animals, co-founded by Eric Burdon and Alan Price, formed in 1962, and continued to perform till 1965.

For the first time in over 18 years, all of the original Animals are back together, performing for sold-out houses across the country and Europe. To band members Hilton Valentine (guitar), John Steel (drums), Bryan (Chas) Chandler (bass), Alan Price (keyboards) and the incomparable Eric Burdon (vocals), the reunion tour seemed like they never left the road almost three decades ago. “People everywhere just seem to love us. They go away happy,” beams John Steel. “It has been great for us. Couldn’t be better.”

In the early ‘60s, clean-cut ambitious young rock bands like the Dave Clark 5 were singing songs about being glad all over, and Peter Noone of Herman’s Hermits professed his affections for Mrs. Brown’s lovely daughter. Meanwhile, the Animals directed their harsh lyrical statements to working class people and adopted the bad boy image, like fellow Britishers the Rolling Stones and Them.

The Animal’s musical, stance was an expression of individualism and personal liberation. The intent of classic songs, “It’s My Life,” “House of the Rising Sun,” and “We Gotta Get Out of This Place” remain as affluent today as it did to the ’60’s generation. These hits were successive, and within a brief two years, the Animals completed three sold out tours. Being successful had allowed them to live out some very real rock’n’roll fantasies, but what actually turned out resulted in more than what they had bargained for.

In a business that’s for profit, sometimes artists unknowingly get caught up in dishonest management direction. Needless to say, the Animals were a prime target and never saw any royalties from the early recordings. “Managers are supposed to look after the money and make sure things go properly,” says Valentine with a disgruntled sigh. “Our manager was pretty terrible. We were making all these records and going on tour, and all the while he was supposed to take care of things. But after the tour you find out it didn’t work out that way; he didn’t take care of business at all.

“We all searched, trying to get our money, and found out possession is nine-tenths of the law. We were told, ‘This is not attainable now.’ All you get are doors slammed in your face. All kinds of things happened. One manager we had to fire, and the other one was a pretty terrible manager.”

There doesn’t seem to be much concern at this time, since the Animals are a lot more careful with their business affairs. For devoted fans, it is really exciting to have the group back together and it would be disheartening to think the band could be the victims of a ruthless manager again. Earlier in the tour, it was reported they had to fire their road manager because he wasn’t getting the job done sufficiently.

The Animals’ new studio album, Ark, is an intense offering which, on its own, has received enthusiastic response. Burdon’s powerful, scorchy vocals are his best ever. It comes as no surprise that the Animals’ influence on American rock’n’roll has been plentiful. Popular rock artists Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty and many others have included Animals classics in their live performances. New York’s own David Johansen remains the most prevalent, as last year he scored a national hit with the melody of popular Animal songs, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place / Don’t Bring Me Down / It’s My Life.” When first issued as a singe, it proved to be Johansen’s largest selling record in years. Recently, he released another Animal’s classic, “House of the Rising Sun,” which is only available as an import from England.

Much of the material on the new album was written by Burdon and several of his songwriting friends from the West Coast, where he presently resides. Alan Price, who originally left the band in ’65 after a rift with Burdon, contributes a song to the long awaited effort. Since the original demise of the group, Price has been the most successful of the five band members with this own group, the Alan Price Set. He scored big with solo albums and British television appearances. In 1973, he acted in, wrote and performed the score for Lindsay Anderson’s film, O! Lucky Man! In 1974, he reached the British top-ten with “Jarrow Song.” More recently, Price performed in a musical production of Andy Capp on the British stage.

Chas Chandler was credited for the discovery of Jimi Hendrix, and managed the artist’s career from 1966 until his death in 1969. Later, Chandler managed the English rock band Slade for nearly a dozen years. He also ran IBC Studios and started Barn Records until 1982, when he sold his music business interests. He was also working on a book about his life as a member of the Animals, but put the project aside to fill in some more chapters in real life with their reunion. [Unless someone can tell me otherwise, as far as I know this book was never published – RBF, 2010]

Hilton Valentine remained perhaps less interested in a music career after the breakup. He lived in Los Angeles for a brief spell before returning to Newcastle for the first reunion of the band, in 1977. [I happily met Hilton when he made a guest appearance in June 2002, playing with garage rocker Michael Lynch at Under Acme in New York City – RBF, 2010] John Steel also dropped out of sight for a while and worked in a factory making parts for refrigerators. On weekends, he doubled as a guitarist playing with local British bands in tiny smoke-filled pubs. “I was quite happy actually,” he states. “I wasn’t starstruck.” Steel, for a shot while, also joined forces with Chandler in the management of Slade.

Eric Burdon, meanwhile, proved to be no slouch either. He continued to lead new versions of the Animals, one of which included ace Police guitarist Andy Summers. A couple of hits ensued, such as “San Franciscan Nights” and “Sky Pilot,” before the line-up disbanded. He traveled around the U.S. studying the blues from such artists as Johnny Lee Hooker and Sonny Boy Williams. Then the funk r&b group War formed, and gave Burdon his last popular song, “Spill the Wine” in 1971. Later, in the mid-‘70s, he tried his hand as an aspiring actor in the film The Eleventh Victim (1979), and the play Comeback, in Hollywood and Berlin in 1982, but that too proved short-lived. [www.imdb.com/name/nm0121007]

When news of the reunion of the Animals began to surface, John Steel was at first skeptical. “I got this call last January from a guy named Ron Weinberg, who said he wanted to the get the Animals back together. He wanted us to make a record, too. I said, ‘You got to be kidding!’ He said he spoke to Eric, Chas and Alan, and they all gave their approval,” he continued with a slight smile. “I figured, if he could get those three together, it was a lot, so I said, ‘Keep talking…’”

That’s what Weinberg did, and the more John pondered the idea, the more convinced he became that the reunion could have its possibilities. At first sight of one another, all were wary of the outcome. “Since everyone else wanted to do it,” Steel continued, “I thought maybe it would be fun. The first thing we did was get into a studio and work on the new songs to see if it could be realistic. I think, without a spoken word, we all really wanted to try it out,” he related. “We went back to the old hits and all: I think that is what a foundation is all about.”

Steel was also quick to point out that the reunion “isn’t another nostalgia trip,” and that he hopes the new material will reach a wider audience. “We wanted to give something we could be proud of,” he said with enthusiasm. “We know we have to do our old material, because that’s what people want to hear. I think that is one of the things that really worked out well. Our oldies have been on the radio for over 18 years now; we’re surprised a portion of our audience is younger kids.”

Life on the road is better than expected, despite the fact some of the animosity, which lead to their original break-up 18 years ago, still lingers. “Our personalities are quite strong,” confirms Valentine. “When this happens, there are bound to be clashes. It’s very difficult to put together different personalities that are strong. We all see different ways to doing things. One person sees it this way best and the other one doesn’t.”

At this point, the Animals are secure that the tour will be completed, but have no plans for a permanent situation. “Somehow we seem to be in sections. We started with a world tour that was supposed to bring us up to November. It’s past that now,” explains Steel. “We are now doing another section of shows in Europe and plan to record a live album soon [due out in April 1984 – Ed., 1984] [Recorded live in Wembley Arena, London, England on December 31, 1983; released in 1984 – RBF, 2010] . I think when we finish this tour we have to all sit down and think, ‘Can we go on and do another tour?’”

Although the band wants to record another studio album soon, they really don’t want to be pressured into promoting it. “It’s hard to say. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We might end up going for each other’s throats and it could suddenly end bloody,” laughs John in mock seriousness. “We all seem to have this friction; we always have and probably will, too.” This tension of personality conflict certainly gives their music its rough and gritty edge.

In 1976, the original line-up reunited the first time in their hometown of Newcastle, to record the album Before We Were So Rudely Interrupted. Although the effort received remarkable praise from music critics, it ended up as a commercial disappointment.

Since the success of the reunion has been so overwhelming, Hilton Valentine is more than somewhat surprised that people have been so supportive. “People always come up to me and say, ‘Can I have your autograph?’,” he beamed. “They say it’s for their mother or something. Then there are the mothers who come up and say it’s for their daughters. It’s really nice.”

At first mention of the group getting back together, Hilton seemed anxious and yet very cautious. “I got very excited, but wanted to be consulted more before I made my decision,” he recalled. “Johnny (Steel) and I were in Newcastle when Weinberg came up to have a chat with us. My first question was, ‘How does everybody feel about it?’ He said everyone wanted to do it, so I said, ‘Okay, I guess it could be done’.”

FFanzeen asked Hilton why extra musicians were added to the original line-up, and why doesn’t he play lead guitar on the songs. “First of all, when the Animals broke up in ’66, we were headed toward augmenting the band anyways,” he replies. “It’s pretty much like where we left off. We are experimenting on a much larger scale. We have a brass section and did some new things over in London with this sort of line-up.” Additional musicians are included in the live show to expand the music arrangements and to add a more full sound.

“This time around we have four extra musicians (Nippy Noya, percussion; Steve Grant, lead guitar; George “Zoot” Money, keyboards; Pat Crumly, saxophone and flute), so actually it’s a nine piece outfit,” explained Steel. “It gives us more variety and color with the whole thing, don’t you think? I think it’s good to have extra musicians to work with. It adds something more to the songs.”

Hilton paused momentarily before replying to the second part of the question. With a shy laugh, he added, “The other guitar player is much better than I am. I like playing chords on the early Animals songs, and on the new material I basically just play rhythm.”

Some of the back-up musicians on the tour were also featured on Ark. The album, recorded rather hurriedly in time for the concert tour, was produced in London by Steve Lipson and the Animals. Much of the new songs dominate their live set, which seemed to be equally accepted by audiences, as well as the older favorites.

During the first quarter of the tour, the Animals brought their live show to the Midwest, but almost didn’t make it out of there alive. Reports of a hurricane were brewing in Dallas, Texas, at the time of the group’s arrival at the Southern state. Though the storm was imminent, the scheduled show was sold out that night. All the band could do was hope for the best. Luckily, no one was hurt, just pretty shook up. Hilton recalls that fateful night:

“The gig was still on, as far as we knew, so we flew into Texas. We didn’t know whether to stay or move on to Austin. By that time, the police had boarded off the town and we had to stay there.” It was nearly 3 a.m. when the monstrous typhoon hit and the hotel guests were told to leave their rooms and take refuge in the lobby. “Windows were popping out all over. I don’t remember much after that. I went to the bar to get drunk. I figured if I was going to go, I wanted to go drunk silly.”

The Animals recently performed in New York City at the renowned Beacon Theater, to a wildly enthusiastic crowd. Eric Burdon, still in fine form after all these years, delighted all for two-and-a-half hours. His riveting blues vocal is a distinct Animals musical trait. Modestly dressed in a two-piece black suit and dark glasses, Burdon worked the crowd, ranging from ages 15 to 40, into an absolute frenzy, leaving them screaming for more. As familiar organ sounds spilled into the hall, Eric flashed a satisfied grin and wailed into the microphone, “There’s a house in New Orleans / They call the Rising Sun…”

Many high points that evening included “Bring It On Home,” “It’s My Life,” “Misunderstood,” and Burdon’s solo of “San Franciscan Nights,” which along with Alan Price’s only solo of “O! Lucky Man!,” was added later to the tour by the demands of the crowds, according to Burdon. The bluesier tunes, “I’m Crying,” “Boom Boom,” and “When I Was Young,” seemed to retain more lyrical sentiment than just an “oldies but goodies” merit.

Later, after the show, Eric and the band (with the exception of Alan Price, who hastened out of the hall) relaxed backstage and spoke with FFanzeen. Chas Chandler, interested in our comments on the show, asked publisher Robert Barry Francos what he thought of it. “I’m a big fan of yours,” said Robert. “Thanks to this guy in Buffalo named Mad Louie, I got to see the show up there, too, at Shea Auditorium. Both shows were intense.” Chandler listened intently for a moment, and by the look on his face, seemed relived it was favorable. “The tour has been doing good, so far,” he said, sipping a glass of wine. “It’s amazing. When we played in London, all these papers picked up on us the same day. Some of those papers are the equivalent to magazines like Time and Newsweek in America.” Chas said he enjoyed being in the States, but can’t wait to get back home to Newcastle and work on the new material for the Animals’ next album.

Eric Burdon, with a drink in his hand, huddled in the corner of the dressing room, and was being entertained by several female guests. The 42-year-old legend has always been an ardent believer in emulating the rock’n’roll lifestyle to the extreme and intends to make a film of the recent tour [As far as I know, this also has never appeared – RBF, 2010]. One difficulty he faces with the newfound project is the resistance of the other band members to be seen on film. Eric, however, confident in his power of persuasion, hopes to have the film finished by spring.

Picking up a copy of FFanzeen [No. 11], Burdon carefully inspects it and places it in his coat for future reading. “That’s a fine looking magazine,” he says, nodding his head in approval, giving the high sign for an interview. He sits down and one of the women pours him a drink of whiskey, and the other, kneeling, lights his cigarette. This typical backstage setting is nothing new to Burdon, who relishes and comes to expect it with each performance.

“Fire away,” he said to us. The conversation focused on the blues, one of his favorite topics. “The blues have a lot to do with working class, but more to do with sexuality,” he explained. “I remember hearing one of the first blues songs I heard; it had a lot of saxophone in it. It was a real sleazy, sexy sound. I think the white kids are more political and the young black kids are more sociological, and come from that background. They understand because their parents were fighting about being unemployed and subjected.”

Eric, in his childhood, used to “hang out with black Americans in particular,” and feels these people view the blues as ecology. “That is what makes it working class, I think. My first instant feeling about the music was sexual and very meaningful,” he continues. “Johnny Lee Hooker only wanted to express himself through his guitar and voice about what was wrong with his situation. I am more drawn to the erotics of blues than the politics of the blues.”

Going on to define different levels of the blues and what kind of people it included, Eric stated, “I think there is an understanding between working class humor and black humor, where worship is involved,” he expressed. “There’s the marriage of songs, the love lost, and the forgotten songs; and then there is the pimp and whore relationship. What about the guy that doesn’t have anyone at all?”

Eric laughed at the thought of the blues ever catching up with him during a live performance. “I try to keep it under wraps. I try to keep on the political side of the blues, mainly because I am white and European.”

He is also concerned, socially, with America, on a musical aspect. Eric hopes one day people will acknowledge Chuck Berry as the “poor lord of America. I learned more about the United States before coming over here though Chuck Berry records than I did from books over in London. His rock’n’roll records were fucking documents of the time.” Perhaps the blues will make a “return some 20 years from now – who knows, maybe next week,” Eric offered.

Earlier in his career, Eric worked with blues great Johnny Lee Hooker, who, to this day, has had an incredible influence on Burdon’s music. At that time, Hooker seemed more than willing to combine creative efforts with a long-standing admirer. “Johnny really loved the fact that I was interested in him. I really get the feeling he was flattered by it,” Eric recalls. “At one point, I was hanging out too much with him. It was very sad. I watched him drink himself to death.”

Before taking leave for the night, we asked Eric how he felt about David Johansen’s remake of the Animals’ songs. “One night I saw the video on TV. It was funny watching him sing it,” he said with a Mona Lisa smile. “I thought it was a little too short, too. It was alright. I like the new arrangement.”

With a fond farewell and a hi-yo Silver, Eric Burdon and company rushed off into the night to their questionable future. All Robert and I could think of was to look at each other and ask, “Who was that blues man?”
* * *


THE ANIMALS: Loose Change

Text by Robert Barry Francos and Mary Anne Cassata
Introduction by Michael McDowell
© Blitz, 1984

To reiterate the history of the Animals here would be redundant. Suffice it to say that the British band enjoyed great aesthetic and commercial success between 1964 and 1966 with such singles as “I’m Crying” (MGM 13274), “Bring It On Home To Me” (MGM 13339), “Don’t Bring Me Down” (MGM 13514) and “The House of the Rising Sun” (MGM 13264), as well as cracking the album charts with such blues-based releases as Animal Tracks (MGM SE4305) and The Animals on Tour (MGM SE4281) before dissolving in 1966.

The legendary band return in 1983 with the original line-up intact. They released a studio album, Ark (IRS SP70037), which has since produced two hit sings, “The Night” (IRS IR-9920) and “Love Is For All Time” (IRS IR-9923). The band is presently working a live recording, scheduled for April release.

The Animals’ first American concert of the Ark tour transpired during the last week of July 1983, at Shea Auditorium in Buffalo, New York, a performance deserving of many superlatives. Lead vocalist Eric Burdon remained in fine form, taking command of the stage for over two hours, with a set consisting primarily of new material, interlaced with Animals classics.

The following interview was conducted at the Beacon Theater in New York City at the end of 1983. In attendance were lead vocalist Eric Burdon, lead guitarist Hilton Valentine, bassist Chas Chandler and drummer John Steel. Only keyboardist Alan Price was not present. – Michael McDowell

Blitz: Do you think that the Animals are a blues-oriented band because of the working class background of the members?
Burdon: It’s more than just being working class. It has more to do with sexuality. I like the blues because of its sexual connotations.

Blitz: In which ways?
Burdon: When I was younger, I used to hang out with Americans. Blacks in particular. My first feelings about the music were sexual and very meaningful. I remember hearing my first blues song, which had a lot of saxophone in it. It was a sleazy, sexy sound. I think the young, white kids were more political and sociological. The black kids understood the blues. It is only the young, white intellectual that sees it on its political level. That’s what makes it working class. It is like saying, “I want every other Saturday off at least once a month for my workers. I want to fuck up the Russian government,” which is something like what great revolutionary characters say. Then the media zeroes in on it. That’s what makes it a working class hero. I think there is an understanding between working class humor and black humor, where worship is involved. There are so many different shades and textures to blues. There are marriage blues songs. There are the long lost and forgotten songs. There is the guy who doesn’t have anyone at all. Then there is the pimp and whore relationship. It does creep up on me in performance. I try to keep up on the political side of it, mostly because I am white and European. I currently live back and forth between Los Angeles and London.

Blitz: So your implication s that white people see the blues politically and that black people see it socially.
Burdon: I don’t think they see it at all these days. It will come back. Look at what is happening socially in America now. Look at Chuck Berry. One of these days people will recognize him as the poor lord of America. His rock and roll records are not rock and roll records: they are documents of the time. Before coming over for the first time, I learned more about America from Chuck Berry than from books in London. Chuck berry is brilliant. There are some wonderful songs on his more recent albums.

Blitz: In the 1960s, it appeared as though many middle class guitarists were going south to find some musician to teach them the blues.
Burdon: That must have been some kind of trip! I get the feeling from John Lee Hooker that he really loved the fact that I was interested in him. He was flattered by it. Sonny Boy Williamson was, too. I was hanging out with him, as well. I watched him drink himself to death. That’s all whiskey under the bridge now!

Blitz: It has been speculated that the original Animals line-up dissolved in 1966 as a result of personality conflicts. Are there any difficulties now?
Valentine: Well, the personalities are quite strong. When that happens, there are bound to be some clashes. We all see different ways of doing things.

Blitz: The members of the Animals allegedly experienced financial problems after that 1966 break-up. What happened to the royalties?
Valentine: That’s what we would like to know! We had a terrible manager. We were making records and going on tour while he was supposed to be taking care of things. After the tour, we found out that he was not taking care of business. You try to get your money and you find out that possession is nine-tenths of the law. We tried to check things out, only to find another door slammed in our faces. We’re told that nothing is obtainable now.

Blitz: There have been a couple of different versions of the Animals. Was it Andy Summers who joined the band briefly in 1968?
Steel: Yes. The original Animals broke up in 1966. Then Eric formed Eric Burdon and the Animals. That is where Andy came in.
Valentine: Alan Price was the first to leave in 1965. John left in 1966, six months after Alan did. We continued for about six months after that. Eric then decided to form his own band at that time, with all the San Francisco stuff.

Blitz: What line of work was everyone doing before the reunion took place?
Steel: Right before the reunion, Alan Price had just finished a musical on stage in London called Al Capp, based on this comic strip character. Chas Chandler had just sold his business, a studio and production company. He was going to take off for a couple of months and buy a word processor and write a fact/fiction kind of book. I worked with Chas most of the time after the band broke up. We managed Slade. They were a very big hit in most parts of Europe, Australia and Japan. They were big in America, but not as much. About five years ago, I got fed up with the music business and went back up north in England, back to my roots.

Blitz: And Slade?
Chandler: They were ahead of their time. And look what happened with Quiet Riot!

Blitz: What did you do after your association with Slade?
Steel: I got a job with a friend who owns a factory that makes parts for refrigerators. I was production manager for him. I was also playing with a blues band. I was actually quite happy. Then I got a phone call in January 1983 from a guy named Ron Weinberg, who said he wanted to get the Animals back together again. He wanted us to record and all.

Blitz: What was your reaction to that?
Steel: I thought that he was kidding! I asked him if he had talked with anyone else and he said yes: Eric, Chas and Alan had already given their approval. If he could get those three together, it was a lot! Since everyone else wanted to, the more I thought about it, I thought it would be fun. The first thing we did was get into a rehearsal studio and work on some songs to see if it was realistic. So we started straight off with new material. We wanted our new material to reach out to the people without having to depend on our hits. But we also do the hits, because that’s what people want to hear.

Blitz: Is it difficult for the band to break newer material when people want to hear the hits?
Valentine: We haven’t experienced any of that on this tour. People are pretty patient. I think they want to hear the new songs, too.

Blitz: Your live show is augmented with lead guitarist Steve Grant, keyboardist Zoot Money, saxophonist / flautist Pat Crumly and percussionist Nippy Noya. Why are you using additional backing musicians?
Valentine: When the Animals broke up in 1966, we were heading toward augmenting the band anyway. I think back-up musicians add more color to the songs. It works out very well.

Blitz: Why have Steve Grant play lead guitar on all the songs except “The House of the Rising Sun,” instead of you taking the responsibility?
Valentine: Because he is a much better guitar player than I am! But I play the chords on the early Animals songs. On the new material, I am basically playing rhythm.

Blitz: In Buffalo, the band performed only material by the original Animals, but in New York, Alan Price did his solo single, “O! Lucky Man!” and the band played “San Franciscan Nights,” which was a hit in 1967 for the newer Animals. Why did you decide to put those songs in?
Burdon: I like that sound. Also, I think that’s what people want to hear. I have to give them what they want. I was pressured. That’s the truth!

Blitz: You were caught in a hurricane in Texas.
Valentine: Like idiots, we flew into Texas when a hurricane was imminent. The gig was still on, as far as we knew. By the time we flew in, the gig was cancelled. So we said we could either stay there or move to Austin. But by that time, the police had bordered the town off. So we had to stay there. The hurricane hit the town at about three o’clock the next morning. The windows were popping out. We had to come out of the rooms into the lobby on the floor, with blankets. I don’t remember too much about it after that, because I went to a bar to get drunk. I figured that if I was going to go, I waned to be drunk silly. It was scary!

Blitz: Does touring feel the same as it did when you first started?
Steel: Just about. Things are on a much bigger scale now, with the amount of equipment that we travel with. It’s pretty much like where we left off. We were experimenting with a much larger line-up just before we broke up in 1966. We had a brass section and did a couple of gigs in London with that sort of line-up. The extra musicians we have now give us more space to experiment with different things.

Blitz: What kind of comments are you getting from fans on this tour?
Valentine: “It’s great to see the Animals back together again! Can I have your autograph? It’s for my mother, not for me.” Then there are mothers that say, “It’s not for me. It’s for my daughter.”

Blitz: How has the press reaction been so far?
Chandler: Amazing! Three weeks ago, we played in London. Papers we never heard of picked up on us in the same day. Some of the papers are like Time and Newsweek are in America.

Blitz: On the Ark album, Eric Burdon resumed writing most of the material?
Valentine: Yes. He co-wrote with various people that he knows in Los Angeles. Alan Price has a song on there, too. The guitarist, Steve Grant, has a couple of songs on there. I have no songs on it. I am no writer. We produced the album ourselves, in conjunction with Steve Lipson, who happened to be available at the time. We just recorded it and went on tour. It all happened very fast. We do most of the new album in our live set.

Blitz: Have you heard any of the live covers of Animals songs by Bruce Springsteen or Tom Petty?
Valentine: No, I haven’t. But I have heard mention of them.

Blitz: What did you think of David Johansen’s remake of your songs?
Valentine: I haven’t heard it, but I have heard of it. I don’t think it was released in England at all.
Burdon: I saw him do it on television one night. I thought it was a little too short. But it was alright. I really did like the new arrangement. I was very flattered by it.

Blitz: There is such a need for rock and roll now.
Steel: I have a daughter who is 18. She feels the same way. So do her friends. They are bored with heavy metal rock. Now they even listen to the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and a lot of stuff from the 1960s. They listen to that more than the current stuff. I think younger people now are more broad-minded. They are quite happy listening to the Rolling Stones. They don’t give a damn if the guys in the band are in their 40s. The music is still good. That’s the kind of reaction we were getting from the start. That is what we want. It is perfect!

Blitz: Bands popular 20 years ago have become big cult heroes now.
Burdon: I think you’re right. I saw a German television special about a man who runs a blues school in Chicago. It was called “I Am the Blues.” It turns a really sexual thing into thoughts. That is what makes the blues so great. This is an example of what I was talking about earlier.

Blitz: What plans do you have in the event that the reunion does not work out?
Valentine: Hopefully it will work out. If not, I will go back to Newcastle, get a new band together and probably do some writing. In order to do some writing, you have to have some time. Your head has to be in the right position.

Blitz: Do you plan on making the reunion a permanent situation?
Steel: I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. We seem to go in sections. We started in July with a world tour that would bring us to the end of October, which involved a studio album. It is past October now. We are on another section, another series of shows in North America. After that, we go back to Europe for a while and record a live album. It will be a mix of our hits and some of the new material. It should be released some time around April. We are working on new material now. Once we finish the series of tours in England, we have to see if we can carry on for another year. We must take it step by step. We would like to do another studio album. If we do that, we would be pressured to promote it. We have no way to knowing what is going to happen. Who knows, we might go for each other’s throats in the meantime and it will suddenly end bloody! We all seem to have this friction between us. We always did and probably always will. It’s a matter of whether we can ride over it or not.












BONUS:

DVD Review: Frank Zappa: The Freak-Out List

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Film images from the Internet

Frank Zappa: The Freak-Out List
Sexy Intellectual, 2009
88 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Like the Velvet Underground, a band they shared a bill with many times in the VU’s nascent period, Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention are hard to define, let alone put into a genre box. If it were called up to name the format, I would call his music jazz in a rock milieu. But even that is too limited a definition for one of the more groundbreaking avant-garde musicians of the later 20th Century.

Zappa was aware of this conundrum, even in his early days, and on the Mothers of Invention freshman Freak Out album back in 1966, he tried to help out the listener by preparing a list of his influences among the fold-out liner notes for the double-disk. This includes a wide variety of names and styles, from the blatant to the obscure, and nearly all are present in his music.

The purpose of this documentary is to partially explore this list (not all on the list are musicians, such as Wolfman Jack, Sacco & Vanzetti, and John Wayne), and not just show why particular composers and artists are important to Zappa, but to the world of music at large.

One of Zappa’s gifts was as a deconstructionalist. He knew how to synthesize different sounds and genres, and meld them together into a form that made sense. As one talking head interview states in this doc, Zappa did not see genre lines when listening to sounds, it was all just music. He also rebelled against being called jazz, or rock, or anything else; he was performing music that mattered to him, and that’s what was important. That different albums slid over style to style, was more a testament to his versatility than to being an auteur. Or perhaps he was an auteur in his non-auteurism. Deep, man.

I have to say, at this point, that I wasn’t much of a fan of Zappa’s recordings, in fact only owning Freak Out in my collection, finding most of his work too esoteric and usually a-melodic, in the same way that, say, the Velvet Underground’s “European Son” is lost on me (though I like the VU sound in general) in a similar fashion. I’m more of a linear kinda guy. Even so, I found this documentary fascinating in what motivated the man. Zappa is correct, to some extent, that music is music, and what contributes as an influence helps create the output.

As Zappa is deceased (1940-93), and this is not a Zappa-family “official” telling, instead we hear from lots of other musicians, such as numerous members of the Mothers, and music experts / historians / professors of various genres, but we’re not done yet folks, there is also more than one Zappa biographer. Needless to say, the people who talk about the music and Zappa know their topic. Thomas Arnold’s narration is also handled well.

Once the foundations are set about the Freak Out! album and Zappa in general in act one, if you will, the list begins to be broken down by the experts and band members. The first stop is the classical input, by other 20th Century deconstructionalists, such as Stockhausen and Schoenberg, who used patterns rather than formulaic measures.

Moving on to R&B, there’s the likes of Hank Ballard and the Moonlighters, Richard Berry (who wrote “Louie, Louie”), and Johnny Guitar Watson are introduced, the latter of whom would become both a collaborator and friend of Zappa’s.

The progression continues into one of Zappa’s favorite sounds, doo-wop, which has shown up in many forms on various Mother’s albums, specifically the Ruben and the Jets LP. Included in the list is the Cadillacs (“Speedo”).

The progression from there, posits the documentary, is jazz. Miles Davis and his Bitches Brew is cited, though Zappa was already releasing similar sounds before Miles did. Also mentioned are the likes of Eric Dolphy, and another Mothers influence and member, violinist Jean-Luc Ponty.

There are many clips of music used, and not just of Zappa’s, but of the original sources (Miles, for example), sometimes shown one after the other, so the viewer can see by example. These pieces are given enough time to hear what we need (and sometimes thankfully more), but nothing complete considering the length of the music used vs. the length of the documentary.

One part of the film I particularly enjoyed was the discussion of Zappa’s work as the soundtrack writer for one of the best “worst” films, The World’s Greatest Sinner, which I was lucky enough to see in a revival thanks to Walter Ocner (also in attendance was A-Bones’ Miriam Linna and Billy Miller, both big supporters of the film).

Whatever point on the musical map one wants to put Frank Zappa, if they need to, well, it’s only partial because he jumped the genre lexicons the way the Ramones didn’t. But being a stylistic shape-shifter is part of what makes Zappa so important, especially in the time period this film covers.

Some of the extras on the DVD include a short commentary (more like a single-camera class lesson) about a couple of albums that mattered to the man, titled “Desert Island Disks,” which includes Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. There is also a person-by-person text biography for all the people who spoke during Frank Zappa: The Freak-Out List.

Bonus: The trailer


Bonus bonus

Ode to a Mixed Tape – ‘70s Underground

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

This tape was made around 1980, created when I was getting ready to drive to Boston for the first time. Well, actually, I was given the opportunity to “couch” it at my friend Joe Vig’s place on Dragon Ct., in Woburn (about 20 miles north of Boston). This was the trip I would also meet the great Kenne Highland (who gave me easy directions for a local, but totally confusing for a New Yorker: “take Mass Ave to Comm Ave…), and photographer Rocco Cippilone, who would go on to create Bang! fanzine before disappearing into the ether.

The idea for the tape is of a collection of the start of the underground scene in New York (and beyond), that is loosely chronological at start, but varies as the vinyl came into my hand from my collection. As always, I have tried to find a video of the original release of the song as it appears on the tape, and if that’s not possible, an alternative or live version by the same artists. The qualities of the videos vary widely.

SIDE ONE

The Stooges - I Wanna Be Your Dog
The New York Scene of the mid-‘70s, starting with the New York Dolls, could arguably be considered the bastard child of Iggy and the Stooges, and the Velvet Underground: a mix of melody and amelodic layering. It’s harsh and sharp, with lyrics that were certainly not by the books. The VU had “Venus in Furs” and the Stooges had this, both of which have sadist / masochistic themes. While the VU one smoldered with artistic leanings, this just rocked as they did in Detroit in those days. Sometimes Alice Cooper gets lumped in with the “father of punk” label, but as much as I respect the man, even with angst ridden lyrics, he was more theatrical rock, much like KISS, but punk was stripped down (even though many of the early fans came from liking the both of these).


The Stooges - Search & Destroy
With Ron Ashton’s guitar madness (RIP Ron) holding this tune up, Iggy just explodes in one of the best opening lines of the period: “I’m a street walkin’ cheetah with a heart full of napalm.” In that timeframe, this line alone can be seen as one of the key reasons Iggy was seen as such a strong proto-punk figure. I’ve seen Iggy two or three times now, including at the Brooklyn Zoo and the Palladium. At Zoo show, he was a couple minutes into a song, when someone threw some ice at him. He stopped the song, and snarled, “Don’t you fuckin’ throw ice at me. This isn’t a request, this is a command!” Then he started the song from the beginning.


The New York Dolls - Personality Crisis
The only time I ever saw the Dolls in the ‘70s was post-Johnny and Jerry, and it still was exciting. Their sloppy stage performances were just what was needed in the days of excess but technically precise musicianship. The group was a perfect combination of musicians who were in worlds of their own while on stage, musically stepping all over each other, but they making it work. If I made this tape today, I would have followed this with “Trash.” (RIP Johnny, Jerry, etc.)


The Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop
This is the start of true punk rock, even though the Ramones never considered themselves in that genre (Miriam Linna, in 1977, said to me that they did think of themselves as punks. This iconic song was mostly created by Tommy, originating as “Animal Hop,” before the rest of the band put their creative input to task, and came up with this, the most played of the Ramones songs. I remember at least 4 or 5 television commercials that have used it, the first being a beer ad. While I don’t think it’s their best song, it certainly seems to be their best known. (RIP Joey, Johnny, DeeDee)


The Ramones - Glad to See You Go
As much as I loved the self-titled first Ramones album, it’s their second and third that are my favorites. As this song shows, the lyrics are a bit stronger, the melodies are more pop without compromising their fierceness, and they rock hard, as Suzi Quatro may have said.


The Ramones - Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment
The grilling guitar as Joey sings the title line is a great shredding sound that would be imitated often by harder metal bands to come. If I made this tape now, I would have probably put in “Rockaway Beach” here, which has come to be my favorite Ramones song of the moment.


The Ramones - Oh Oh, I Love Her So
See, the Ramones could write some beautiful love songs without giving up who they were. I’m surprised a certain fast food chain hasn’t snatched this one up as a theme. I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen the Ramones play, starting with a show shared with Talking Head (who opened) on June 20, 1975, at CBGB. My first roll of 35mm film was used to take snaps of the Ramones, and the contact sheet was recently signed by Tommy, thanks to my pal Bernie Kugel. It’s framed on our living room wall.


Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Blank Generation
While I was never into drugs, this song managed to feels like it defined me in its moment in time, and I still consider myself part of the blank generation as a term to describe a regular on the New York City mid-1970s pre-punk rock/New Wave underground music scene. What a great opening line: “I was sayin’ let me outta here before I was even born / It’s such a gamble when you get a face.” Plus Richard Lloyd’s ripping, nearly a-tonal guitar shatters any preconceived ideas about standard song structure. The Voidoids and Television (at some point, bassist Hell was in both) were far closer to the center of the Velvet Underground noise and Stooge’s rock sonic attacks. (RIP Bob)


Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Love Comes in Spurts
This is about drugs and sex as much as Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline” was about women and cars. There are three versions of this song that I know of: the earliest by the Heartbreakers (another band in which Hell was a member) which is represented in the video below, the Ork single that is on my tape, and the one from the Sire album, which is the better known. I put the one I liked best on this tape.


The Heartbreakers - One Track Mind
The lyrics to “Love Comes in Spurts” was written by Hell, and the music by Walter Lure. When Hell left the Heartbreakers, Lure wrote his own lyrics on a similar topic line, but the chorus is on a different part of the melody (ingenious, actually). When the title of the song comes up in the chorus, I like to overlap it by singing the original lyrics. Like something Sondheim would have done (or not!). While the line “There’s tracks on my arms / And tracks on my face / Tracks on the walls / All over the place” is the most quoted, my favorite is “My rule book is thin / It says ‘Don’t. Come. In!’” I understand Thunders was the main focus of the Heartbreakers, but Walter was equal in my eyes as far as personality, and possibly further in talent. I really miss the Lure / Thunders / Nolan / Rath version of this band, when it was at its peak they were (usually) tremendous to watch.


The Heartbreakers - Let Go
Now it’s Johnny Thunders’ turn on vocals, as he commands, “I don’t know why you just don’t bloooooooowwwwwww.” The video below is live, but mine’s from the L.A.M.F. album.


The Heartbreakers - Chinese Rocks (Live)
Written by DeeDee Ramone, the ‘Breakers make it their own by changing the lyrics at the end of each chorus. My tape is taken from the Live at Max’s album, and while the video here is different, it has the same altered lyrics, though the sound on the album is superior. Any one who knows me will tell you I love the Ramones, but the Heartbreakers’ version of this song is superior.


The Dictators - Master Race Rock
Led by four Jewish guys, the irony of the title of this song is not lost on their fans. From their first Go Girl Crazy album, basically this is making fun of the class bullies more than anything else, with hysterical lyrics, killer rock bottom, and a sailing guitar. It’s a perfect combination of Shernoff and Manitoba vocals, with a sharing of stanzas and chorus. I mean, how can anyone take lines like “My favorite part of growing up / Is when I’m sick and throwing up / It’s the dues you’ve got to pay / For eating burgers every day” serious enough to point a finger at the boys. I saw the band play many times, starting in ’75, and every one was a great show. DFFD.


The Dead Boys - Sonic Reducer
First time I saw the Dead Boys was them opening for the Damned. In fact, it seems the first few times was that combination, and always at CBGB’s. The Dead Boys were a killer act, and arguably the first hardcore band. From the opening salvo of the scream/whelp of “I don’t need anyone!” the challenge was initiated. Whether ripping off Mariah Aguier’s top onstage (I was there that infamous night) or crawling into the crashing drum kit mid-song, Bators was more than a singer, he was a force. The Lords of the New Church never really did that much for me, but the Dead Boys has not been matched by any of the band members’ other work. My tape has the opening cut of their Young, Loud and Snotty LP, though the video below is a live take. (RIP Stiv)


The Dead Boys - What Love Is
“I wanna write on your face with mah pretty knife / I want some of your precious smile… / I want you to know what love is.” That’s starts the chorus. Some of the songs on the album was dedicated to one of their underage groupies, Lydia Lunch (“I Need Lunch,” “Caught With the Meat in Your Mouth”), and I was kind of thinking this may have been as well, for some reason. There is a sense of both anger and pleading for understanding that runs through this. Bator again handles it with strength, and just the perfect hint of whine. The video below is a bad live version, but it’s the best I found.


Tuff Darts - Slash
Robert Gordon, who fronted Tuff Darts for it’s initiation, fortunately stayed long enough for two live songs recorded for the Live at CBGBs double album. This is a truly ballsy song about a groupie (I used to know which one, but I can’t remember these days… Fox?). It’s just full of sexual contempt, and pre-rockabilly Gordon totally emotes that he’d rather “Slash my wrists and cut my throat / Than have to spend the night with you.” I never saw Tuff Darts play that I can remember, but I have a fond memory of interviewing the band’s true leader and fashion maven, Jeff Salen, at his clothing store on 72 Street a long time ago. Say what you want by Gordon’s replacement, Gordon really fucked this band over royally, and what was his reward? A couple of near hit singles (“Someday, Someway” and “Only Make Believe”) and some non-selling albums. They could have been the Teenage Head of New York.

SIDE TWO

Tuff Darts - All For the Love of Rock’n’Roll
This song is more manifesto than anything else. It posits, “I don’t care about the money / I ain’t seen none / And I don’t care about the women / ‘Cause I just need one / The reason I say it / You really oughta know / It’s all for the love of rock’n’roll.” Someday, someone needs to do a bigger cover of this to perpetuate it. The video is from Jeff Salen’s Memorial. RIP, Jeff.


Patti Smith Group - Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)
The first time I saw Patti was at the now famous (and often bootlegged) show at the Bottom Line. She was such an exiting performer, especially in a smaller setting, where she would come out and talk to the audience and read some poems as the Group set up, and then when everyone was ready, she’s usually lead off with “We’re Gonna Have a Real Good Time Together.” The Horses album is one of the first of the New York underground scene to be recorded, and there is not a bad cut on it. Imagine how brave it must have been to have the first line of the first song of your first album start off “Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine.” I realize she was being poetic, but remember the hell (pun intended) that Lennon went through not very long before with his Jesus comment. When the PSG did the song on the first season of Saturday Night Live, it was well received. Now, it would probably cause a scandal due to that line; think of what happened to Sinead O’Conner. Despite a long fallow musical gap in the ‘80s and ‘90s, Patti came back and her material is as magnificent as ever. I’m looking forward to reading her new autobiography about Mapplethorpe. (RIP Richard Sohl)


Patti Smith Group - Free Money
I actually wanted to put “Land” here, but the song is nearly 10 minutes long, and it would have taken up too much time. So I picked this wishful song of desperation, that if I remember correctly, features Tom Verlaine (another of Smith’s paramours) and his flashing guitarwork. Like I said, the album is flawless, so I just went with an eeny-meeny pick.


The Afrika Korps - Jailbait Janet
After Kenne Highland left the Gizmos, he came to the New York tri-state area and did a song that would become one (of many) of his I-IV-V classics. This is a true story of a rivalry between Kenne and his friend, and the woman they both lusted after. Kenne is back doing music, and I look forward to hearing so much more from the man who has fronted more bands than anyone else I know - a few of which I’ve seen, and one I was a participant in both the naming of the band (The Hopelessly Obscure) and a recording session down the block from the Rat. The video is live; the album cut on my tape is not.


Talking Heads - Love (Goes To) Building on Fire
The Talking Heads only released one song as a trio, before Jerry Harrison joined the band, and it remains my favorite, despite the “inexplicable use of horns” (as Michael of the ex-Bleecker Street store Disc-o-Rama once said). I saw them a few times, the first opening for the Ramones in June 1975 (the Heads’ first show), and I was intrigued. Without any implication meant towards Harrison, I thought the keyboards made them too slick and I lost interest shortly after he joined. This song, their first release on Sire, is a non-LP 45.


The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso
From their first groundbreaking self-titled album, Jonathan Richman ended up being into the more pop side that followed on his next album by the time this came out, and refused to do any of the songs live when it hit the streets. Actually, I prefer the second album to the first, but this is a nicely dark and thumping song, which is highly influenced by the Velvet Underground (John Cale would later cover it).


The Modern Lovers - Road Runner
While the video below is the album version, though I actually prefer the alternate from the Beserkley Spitballs comp album (my fave JR song, “The New Bank Teller, is amazing), which I have on my tape. A digression… This mixed tape was playing as I was driving up to Woburn, and when Richman says, “Can you feel it out in Needam now?” I had just past the sign for the town. Then he sings, “Out on Route 128, by the power lines.” At that moment I was on Route 128, and there to the left were the power lines. It was a Keanu Reeves “whoa” moment.


Blondie - X Offender
Blondie were opening for the Ramones the second time I went to CBGB’s during the early summer of 1975, and I saw them quite a few times after that. At either that show or the one after, Debbie presciently stated, “Here’s our upcoming disco hit, ‘Heart of Glass’.” This was before they were even signed to a label. And speaking of which, Chrysalis released this single before the first album came out, which has a different mix. The video, fortunately, is also the single version. For me, Blondie’s best release was their first album, which had everything I liked about the band. After, they became way more over-produced, glossy and polished, and while they were still interesting, their records became more and more blah for my tastes at the time.


The Criminals - The Kids Are Back
After Sylvain Sylvain left the Dolls, but before his underrated stint with the 14th Street Band (whom I saw a few times, including at Hurrahs with the Rich Kids opening, featuring Glen Matlock and Midge Ure – who I found pretty lame), he formed the Criminals. This single is a nice, kick-ass number showing that he had more chops than just backing up Johansen. But even here he can’t get away from his Dolls “jacket,” naming off all the previous band’s members at a later point in the song. The video is the same song, but done live and with a different band backing him up on a telethon.


The Count - The Morn of the Confrontation
I was going to visit Joe Vig, so I figured I may as well put one of his songs on the tape. This was one of his very early recordings, and one of his best of the time. It’s a full out production, with a great tune and strong lyrics. He cries out on the chorus, “Seems like I’m trying / You know I’m trying all the time!” Viglione is another musician whose material is better than his career as a musician, which is a shame.

The Jumpers - I Wanna Know What’s Going On
Ah, the Jumpers, from Buffalo. Their first single was produced by Bernie Kugel by money borrowed from Dave Olka, it was written by band member Bob Kozak and fronted by the irrepressible (and Joey Ramone-level tall) Terry Sullivan. Kozak remains a strong songwriter (he and Kugel have performed together a number of times). Both this song and its flip, “You’ll Know Better When I’m Gone,” are likeable numbers in a Real Kids vein (or vice versa).

The Marbles - Forgive and Forget
From the first time I saw the Marbles, I fell in love with their sound. They had a scene-level hit with their powerpop Ork release, “Red Lights,” but I chose this Eric Li fronted number for this tape. Eric struggled with the high notes, but the melody and harmonies are as wondrous today as they were then. The Marbles only released two singles, but neither contain my favorites, “You Tomorrow” or “She’s Cool.” There is a live video of one of their shows floating around in some studio, and I recommend seeking it out (the clip below is from it). (RIP Eric)


Iggy Pop - Lust For Life
I started with Iggy, so I end with Iggy. This is one of his first solo hits, which has been way overused in commercials on television. It’s a commentary about the evils of consumption, and it’s used to promote the same. Go figure.


BONUS:

Road Trip to See the Ghosts, Vol 8: Robsart (con't)

Text and photos (c) Robert Barry Francos, 2010

This April, fellow photographer John Penner and I went on a two-day road trip through southwestern Saskatchewan in search of ghost towns.

Many of the houses were left wide open and ranged from either ransacked at some point, or actually relatively intact. The town of Robsart, as of 2001, had 15 people living in the town, in 11 residences, but the town was larger in its existing form, with most buildings abandoned.

Here is the eighth part a photo journal of the trip, with descriptions. There was so much to see in this town, Robsart was broken up into two blogs, the first being published May 30, 2010. The images can be enlarged by clicking on them.

Robsart, Saskatchewan
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robsart,_Saskatchewan

A leaning house, not in Piza.


A rusted and lonely play yard behind a house.


This house was in sorry shape, as it has been converted into a chicken coop and animal pen; though it was empty, it was obviously still in use, full of feathers and animal crap.





The town repair garage. There was still a car in its bay. The tail end of the building was being held up by a 2x4.





Beaver Lumber, the local hardward store. Inside was packed full of odd things, like a "Last Supper" towel on a chair, 8-Track tapes, some records (in rough shape), a bunch of cash registers and adding machines of various vintages, and some old community newspapers (mostly from Alberta) dating from 1949 until 1963.







The grocery store, with a large bay door for supplies.


I'm guessing this was a gas station at one time (Texaco?); or perhaps where the local coven meets.



The second big house in Robsart, this one closer to the center of town.


Many old cars were parked behind the second big house.







A truck out in the field near the second big house.

DVD Review: You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks
Voice Print / ABC Entertainment, 2010
87 minutes, USD $18.95
Voiceprint.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

I have never seen a documentary about the Kinks, and that alone makes this worthwhile. However, I did see the band play the Felt Forum in November 1974. The opening act was themselves, doing their touring set. Then they came back and did the entire Preservation show (both parts).

The Kinks were one of those bands that cool people seem to like. Yeah, everyone who picks up a rock guitar plays “You Really Got Me” when they first start learning (along with “Louie, Louie,” of course), but they were different than, say, the Beatles or even the Rolling Stones, in that they were a bit off kilter (i.e., not following the norms in style either musically or vocally), despite their early strong blues bias. That is also what makes this documentary so interesting.

As documentaries go, this is somewhat light footed, but that’s fine. For the first few years of the band’s history (this film starts when the band is formed), the songs are represented by the Kinks performing live in concerts, usually made up of full songs, with no narration over them. Starting off with television appearances in the U.K., most of the rest of the early period songs are signified by two concerts, one from 1966 in black and white, and the other in color during the mid-1990s, where the full band, including Dave Davies on flashing guitar, plays their more famous numbers, sometimes faster than the original (“You Really Got Me,” for example).

Speaking of the b&w concert, I had forgotten how much lead guitarist Dave also sang in the early days, such as with “Milk Cow Blues,” since he is often overshadowed by his brother, with whom he shares vocals on this particular video. Ray Davies, in the later footage, ranges from extremely fey to solidly aggressive. It’s a shame they had such a tumultuous relationship, because they played off each other so well, both in the early footage and the later. Both Ray and Dave are among those who give first-person accounts in the doc.

Luckily, Max Leinwond’s narration is held at a minimal, especially at the beginning, though it becomes slightly more intrusive in the middle segments. Luckily, it’s not enough to ruin much of the music parts. The writing is kind of fluffy and not overly deep, but again, I would rather hear the songs with some dialog than the other way around, especially for a group like the Kinks, where their sound is king.

In the States (where they were banned from performing though the late ‘60s due to Republican misguidedness (there’s a redundancy for ya), they actually had more hits than most can probably think of off the top of one’s head. One of my favorites, and one of the very first 45s I ever purchased, is “Well Respected Man,” which is represented here. Dozens of their hits are, though I noticed a lacking of “Sunny Afternoon,” and then there’s “Lola” and “Tired of Waiting,” both great songs, which are mentioned in the narration but lacking in soundbites.

Speaking of their songs, and this is a digression, I never realized how much the rhythm of “Superman” sounds like Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” (which is funny because both characters are from rival comic companies…but I digress in my digression).

The footage used, along with those in concert, include backstage shots as the band roams around the dressing room waiting for their call, and home movies, and some interviews of Ray and Dave, among others.

Seeing the progression of the band in one overview makes it interesting to be able to track how the band changed over the years, from hard bluesy numbers, to a harder rock sound at the end of the ‘60s, to a rock opera, and then to ‘80s charting formulas. The latter period (post-MTV) is shown here as music videos rather than concert shots, including their later hits, “Predictable” and “Come Dancing.”

There is a brief interview with Ray in New York, where he discusses the Kinks in relation to punk. He posits that punk was not directly influential by the band, though punk may have adopted their quick playing. Personally, I believe their influence was more that Ray and Dave are not conventionally “pretty” singers, and their earlier songs were also not formulaic for the time.

Unfortunately, the odds of the original Kinks getting together again are slim, with Dave Davies having suffered a stroke and full recovery is not expected. This happened after the date of the DVD, so it is not mentioned, though neither is Ray’s fathering Chrissy Hynde’s offspring, not that it has anything to do with their music, I will admit.

Yes, this is not a perfect documentary, but very few are. That being said, I highly recommend this. Uberfans (like Gary and Doreen) will just kvell, and even those who just loved their music for what it was, will be happy.

Here is a taste of what’s on the DVD; notice the use of “sharp” elbows everywhere by the people dancing in very jerky motion…I just find that interesting, as well:


Bonus, unrelated video:

Book Review: "Cold Pizza for Breakfast," by Christine Lavin

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

Cold Pizza for Breakfast: A Mem-wah??
By Christine Lavin
Tell Me Press (New Haven, CT), 2010
480 pages; USD $21.95 / CAN $27.95
ISBN: 978-0-9816453-6-0
www.tellmepress.com

One evening in the early 1990s, I was walking up Seventh Avenue in the ‘50s, right in the heart of the theater district. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone about to enter a taxi. My eyes grew wide and my heart started beating. I screamed out, “I love you, Ellie Greenwich!” She stopped half-way in and out of the cab, smiled at me, finished getting in, and was off into the night.

That’s similar to the way I feel about Christine Lavin. No, I’ve never met her, though I did see her perform once at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival in upstate New York, but what I am attracted to is her work. Her friends call her Chris, but until the day I do meet her and she say’s it’s okay, I’ll call her Christine.

Christine Lavin is like the great Den Mother every kid wishes they had, and for which every singer-songwriter hopes as a mentor. This is the autobiographical story covering the last 25 years, of how she rose from a struggling East Coast folkie to achieve the level where she is beloved by so many in the field. A true singer-songwriter’s singer-songwriter.

My first memory of her, as I recall, was a song on a compilation, which contains her contribution, “Mysterious Woman.” Using a seductive tone, she playfully posits a desire to be perceived as “mysterious,” by having everyone wonder what she’s thinking about: “Existentialism? Nihilism? Wrong…I am thinking about defrosting my refrigerator.” This playful intelligence runs through so many of her songs, covering politics (with a great, strong left leaning), science (including microbiology and astronomy, I kid you not), as well as the softer (“Jack and Wanda”), frustrating (“Attainable Love”), amusing (“Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind”), and devastating (“The Kind of Love You Never Recover From”) side of romance.

Why do I bring up all this before even discussing the book? Well, Christine tends to write her life into song, constantly updating, and this book is a song in its own right. There is often verbiage in a Lavin concert (check out her superb live DVD, Girl, Uninterrupted), and she writes as she talks, from the heart, with a little bit of candor, a helping of humor, and even some schmaltz.

There are two expressions that are common with Christine: when agitation and confusion comes from without, it’s “Wah?” (hence the subtitle of the book), and when the angst and uncertainty comes from within, it’s “What was I thinking,” which is title of, not coincidentally, one of her better known songs. The title of this book, of course, is also a song title (though her “I Don’t Make This Stuff Up, I Just Make it Rhyme” would have worked as well).

This autobiography, her first, comes after 20 solo releases, 9 compilation collections, and a few books, such as a cookbook and one geared towards children about her song “Amoeba Hop” (thought I was kidding about the whole biology thing, hunh?). But it is more than a standard autobio. Yes, she tells her life story of growing up near West Point and hanging out with the New York Jets (including Joe Namath) as a child, working as a waitress in a folk club in Saratoga, NY, moving to New York City, and getting a boost by being taught by the legendary Dave van Ronk (who also gave Bobby Zimmerman lessons on his way to Dylan-hood).

Christine’s songs are stories based in fact, told poetically and yet completely assessable, and that is how she writes this book. It is not only her life story, covering her music, career, and obsessions (such as knitting and Dame Edna, which she goes into great detail), but on some level it’s also a how-to for the folk music business. Always the abovementioned den mother, Christine doles out bon mot advice throughout the book (e.g., never promote an act you have to apologize for), always giving credit to whomever gave that advice to her.

There are moments in the book that tear at the reader, such as discussing the fallout of 9/11, including how it may have contributed to the death of van Ronk, and her describing in grim (and yet amusing) detail about a few times when she didn’t quite please the audience.

One can hardly call this autobiography a dishy “tell-all,” if you’re into salacious readings, as she avoids detailing her love life, and in most cases when she does discuss someone who has had a negative effect on her life (such as a promoter), she usually leaves the person unnamed; although she gives quite a nice dig at ex-punkers/New Wavers, the Washington Squares, which I found particularly amusing because I’ve hung out with two of them, have been in the third’s apartment, and am a fan of their output. I was holding my sides laughing through those passages.

But in her modestly, she also doesn’t go into great detail about how admired she is by others. For example, she excludes the story of how a bunch of folkers got together and secretly recorded a 2-part tribute album of her material called Big League Babe, and then presented it to her for her birthday, on stage at the Bottom Line during one of her showcases.

Part of the reason she is so admired in the biz is because she goes out of her way to promote other musicians. She casually drops names in the book, not as in “look who I’ve worked with,” but more “you should check out…” including the likes of Richard Shindell (search out his “Are You Happy Now”), fellow Van Ronk student David Massengill (whose releases I’ve reviewed), and so many others. Always on the search for new people, Christine is genuinely happy to get a community going, which she explains in the book how it is done so the reader can do the same.

[The version of the book I read was a pre-release, that did not contain the Appendix or photos, so I will bemusedly leave this space blank until I see a copy.]



This autobiography is an easy and fun read, and it is easy to recommended it to anyone who loves stories of the beginning of one’s career, road stories (including a large focus on Canada and Australia), a somewhat how-to, and as a source of new music worth listening to by other artists.

Yes, I’ve never met Christine Lavin, but she makes me feel comfortable and comforted, with her easy manner on stage, and in both song and voice, sung and written. My partner read the book, and though she is less familiar with Christine’s work, she thoroughly enjoyed the book as well, finding the cheerful and hopeful tone in the face of both luck and adversity, enjoyable and hopeful.

DVD Reviews: Final 24: Janis Joplin and Keith Moon

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Film images from the Internet

Janis Joplin: Her Final Hours
Season 2, Episode 4
Directed by Paul Kilback
Cineflix International, 2007
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

Keith Moon: His Final Hours
Season 2, Episode 5
Directed by Peter St. Laurent
Cineflix International, 2007
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

I had never heard of the Canadian television series (a joint Ontario / Quebec venture) Final 24: A Dramatization, but I want to see the whole series now. It’s a hoot.

Actually, this is a fine mixture of first person interviews, actual footage and photos of the artist, and actors dramatizing the last day in b-roll format (silent under the narration). Through it all is British narrator Danny Wallace (though IMDB states it as Dave McRae) leads us on the journey in flat tones that sound like Neil Innes doing a roving news reporter. The dialog he reads is somber and unintentionally cringe-worthy, with lines like “Little did Janis know that she had just bought the drugs that would kill her in only so-and-so hours.”

But that is part of the charm of this two-season series (here is the list of the people covered: www.imdb.com/title/tt1020621/episodes). Yes, I realize I’m using humorous terms about the tragic death of humans, but really, after all the media attention over the past 30-plus years, their lives have become more iconic than real; whether this is a good thing or bad, it’s up to the individual to decide.

The last-day vignettes are performed mostly as silent plays (in rare occasion a word or two will break through, such as Keith Moon’s lover screaming “No!” when she discovers him). The actors playing the main roles are interesting choices. Sara Hennessey is an Ontario-based actress and comedian, who plays Janis slinking along in a stupor, mostly, and actually shows some of her own personality, as well as Janis’s. A little lithe and perhaps too pretty for being Janis, she still does an excellent job embodying her, as well as can be done as essentially a mime.

Keith Moon is portrayed by Michael Rode, who is actually miscast. Nothing against the fine acting job he does, but unlike Sara, he looks nothing like Moon: he’s too tall, too thin (remember, this is the last day, so it was Moon at his most bloated, as the film clips and stills attest), and looks too young (even in the narration, it’s posited that all the substance abuse had made him look older than his years).

So that is the entertaining part of the show, but lets get to some meat here: what really makes the program is not necessarily the last 24 hours, which is nicely dissected in increments of events with a digital clock showing how much time the subject has left to live (which is constantly reminded to us by the narration), but the overview of the person’s life. Each of these have present day (relatively) interviews with people who were prominent in the person’s life. For example, in the Janis Joplin episode, some of the musicians that backed her up over the years remember her, including from Big Brother and the Holding Company, the Kozmic Blues Band, and the Full Tilt Boogie Band. There’s also road managers and other acquaintances, including a gushing high school classmate and a somewhat bitter take from her brother Michael. There is no commentary by her sister Laura, though, who wrote a book about Janis.

For the Keith Moon episode, I found the interviews even more interesting (if possible), from Moon’s live-in lover, the stunning Annette Walter-Lax, who discovered his body, and his daughter, Amanda Moon, who comes across as sad and somewhat angry that she didn’t really get to know her dad. Ironically, there is also an interview with Faces’ drummer (and Moon’s good friend) Kenny Jones, who would go on to replace Moon in the Who (though he could never live up to Moon’s standard – but then again, could anyone?). Walter-Lax easily comes across as the most sympathetic, even to this day.

There is also a level of salaciousness that goes through the tone of the pieces, added to by the creepy writing and narration. “In just 10 hours, s/he will be dead,” we are reminded often. There is a large focus on the negatives for the protagonists, whether it’s Janis’s drug intake (though trying to clean up and pointedly failing), easy manner with both men and women, mistreatment back in Ft. Arthur – including her ill-fated attempt to return a star – and her unhappiness with her first two bands. Oh, and then there is the quickie engagement and fight with her boyfriend the night of…well, you know.

With Moon, it’s excess of escapade, the accidental running over and killing of his friend / driver Neil Boland (and the depression that followed), the constant threat of being kicked out of the Who, and the large volume of drink and pharmaceuticals he ingested (though trying to clean up and pointedly failing). The DVD covers state, “These are psychological detective stories attempting to uncover the mystery of why the celebrity died.”

This is the video equivalent of a celebrity magazine, where all the faults are highlighted in yellow, and yet one can’t take their eyes away. I want what I say here to be taken the tongue-in-cheek way I mean it: the Final 24 series is like fast food, but like that fine eating, it is addicting, enjoyable, and you just want more. I’m hoping to get to see the whole series at some point.

Bonus videos: