The British Invasion Tour 1973 Starring Hermans Hermits

                                                                    

The British Invasion Tour of 1973

@ Pine Knob

Starring Herman’s Hermits

It was a glorious sunny day for a rock & roll concert. It was an oldies show that included acts from England that were still performing and recording. The original Herman’s Hermits (without guitarist Keith Hopwood) co-headlined the show with the original Searchers .The support acts were very good for the most part but relied on the same backup band for each of their performances. The lineup included Gerry Marsden (Gerry & the Pacemakers), Wayne Fontana (Wayne Fontana & the Mindbenders), Freddie & the Dreamers and Billy J Kramer (& the Dakotas).

The show opened with Manchester-based Freddie & the Dreamers with most of his original band from the sixties. Freddie was just a wee bit over five feet tall and his peripatetic antics got the crowd up on its feet. He wore thick glasses and looked like a dweeb while his backing band wore shades and looked like hit men for the mob. It was a high energy set that included the hits I’m Telling You Now, You Were Made For Me, Do The Freddie as well as minor releases that charted below the Top 100 including I Understand and Over You. Freddie did the “Freddie” all over the stage. To do it you had to stand in place, then in rhythm with the music,  lift your left arm and leg, then your right arm and leg until the damn song ends. Ok, it was annoying but I mastered the Freddie right then and there!

Wayne Fontana opened with an early British hit, the soulful Um, Um, Um, Um,Um, Um (a tribute to Major Lance)  followed by minor hits Road Runner , Hello Josephine, She Needs Love  and Together - a big hit in Australia. He included Pamela Pamela, a sweet little rocker that charted in the UK but sunk into a black hole here in the states. Toward the end he performed a new song entitled Sweet America – a great rockin’ tribute to the USA. It worked on so many levels, the arrangement, the lyrics and Fontana’s powerful vocal. It should have been the hit that resurrected his career.  I never again heard the song  and Fontana slipped back into oblivion. He ended his brief set with his monster hit from 1965, Game of Love. He was in great voice and he looked good. He seemed to be on top of his game. It was a squandered opportunity.

The Searchers had their original singers Mike Pender and John McNally on board and they recently recorded an LP entitled Second Take that included new songs as well as re-recorded versions of their hits. It was a masterful performance with those trademark close harmonies and jangly guitars that the Searchers perfected. They were on their game and gave the audience a spectacular set of British Invasion pop – Love Potion # 9, Needles & Pins, Don’t Throw Your Love Away and When You Walk in the Room. The band opened with a tight performance of Sweets for My Sweet and they interspersed the hits with new songs such as Solitaire, Sing Singer Sing, Don’t Shut Me Out, The World is Still Waiting for Tomorrow and Bite it Deep. It seemed as if The Searchers were poised for a great comeback. It didn’t happen. Shame.

The next performer, Billy J Kramer gave an insipid performance of his hits. The dude was long, lanky and terribly awkward. He wore a shag haircut that may have been the original mullet except there was no party in the back. Kramer mugged the crowd, winced and sang off key for the entire performance. The band made faces in the background and rolled their eyes. Kramer was oblivious to the slights and continued to warble his hits – Little Children, Trains & Boats & Planes, Bad to Me, From a Window and I’ll Keep You Satisfied. The Beatles connection couldn’t save him. It made we wonder what Brian Epstein had seen in him in the first place…oh, yeah, Billy was caught buried waist deep into Brian’s bum. Strange bed follows don’t always make great music.

Gerry Marsden was something else indeed, an immaculate singer and showman. His husky baritone was perfect and he did all his hits. He did a superb nuance vocal on Bobby Darin’s I’ll Be There and nailed How Do you Do It and It’s Gonna Be Alright. It was like getting a close look at the early days of the Beatles when they battled the Pacemakers for the toppermost of the poppermost on the British charts. In the early to mid-sixties the Pacemakers were one of the premier acts in England. Marsden was a rocker who excelled on ballads and he sang beautifully on Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying and You’ll Never Walk Alone (Rodgers & Hammerstein would not be displeased). A masterful reading of his self-penned Ferry Cross the Mersey closed the set. The crowd roared for more, it was the most voracious response by the crowd so far. He was not only a great singer but a great showman. He came back onstage and did the Ray Charles chestnut What I’d Say. Marsden got the crowd revved up in third gear and then downshifted into the ancient call & response gambit. Perfect!

The crowd gasped when Herman’s Hermits walked onto the stage. It was the original band featuring Derek Leckenby (guitar), Karl Green (bass guitar), Barry Whitman (drums) .  When Peter Noone entered on stage left the crowd went wild. They started their set with Gary Glitter’s Hello! Hello! I’m Back Again. It was a great choice. It’s an upbeat and obscure rocker (in the states) and has the perfect lyrics for a popular hit-making band returning to form following a three year separation…

Hello Hello 

 It’s good to be back

Good to be back

Hello, Hello, hello

Did you miss me (YEAH)

While I was away

Did you hang my picture on your wall

Did you miss me every single day (YEAH)

I thought you didn’t need me at all

Noone looked youthful and handsome and he hadn’t lost a step. He was all over the stage mugging with crowd and flashing that toothy smile and capitalizing on his vaudevillian charm. He did his music hall numbers Mrs. Brown (You’ve Got a Lovely daughter), I’m Henry the VIII and Leaning on a Lamp. His reading on their first big hit I’m Into Something Good was a shining example of good time music. It was followed by Can’t You hear My Heartbeat and Listen People. It was a thrill to hear these wondrous sixties pop artifacts performed by the original band. Noone performed Sam Cooke’s Wonderful World and the ancient street corner soul of Silhouettes. He even did a great version of the Kinks’ underrated masterpiece Dandy. In my view it surpassed the Kinks original arrangement. Noone stretched out a bit with the Graham Nash chestnut A Simple Man accompanying himself on piano. His vocal was nuanced with a restrained emotion, “I just want to hold you; I don’t want to hold you down.”

He interspersed pop rockers – A Must to Avoid, Sea Cruise and Just a Little Bit Better - with the ballads End of the World and No Milk Today. They even did a few obscurities Here Comes the Star and Sentimental Friend

The crowd reserved the biggest ovation to Noone’s perfect reading of There’s a Kind of Hush – their last bit hit (#4 in America) and the last song of the night.

The British Invasion tour was a wonderful, low-tech affair that was somewhat flawed yet glorious in its subversiveness. God Save the Queen.

 

 

 

 

 

The Association

Live @ CMU

1969 

The Association was a great group of singers who also wrote some of the most beautiful love songs of the sixties. They were not per se a rock band, more like a hip college folk band that was more Christy Minstrel than Bob Dylan. It’s not to say that they wrote only schmaltzy folk pop for the masses, looking for the big hits and a bigger payoff. They were both singers and writers and were capable of writing lyrically compelling songs with layered emotional themes. Some of their songs such as Cherish, Never My Love are timeless. Their rudimentary musicianship was their weakest link but their unison singing and layered three-tiered harmonies could make up for the lapses in the instrumental department. There were exceptions – Terry Kirkman was a multi-instrumentalist and musical leader and Brian Cole was a monster bassist and his powerful playing was often up front in the mix. He was also the leader of the band onstage. For better or worse, Cole did all the banter. At times he seemed more like a fraternity dweeb than a philosopher stone. Just Google his rap on Time Machine or Thurber’s The Last Flower intro to Get Together and you’ll have an idea. It was performance art that was somewhat interesting if not overwrought. The band consisted of Terry Kirkman (baritone, brass, reeds, recorder, harmonica, percussion), Russ Giguere (baritone vocals, rhythm guitar, percussion), Larry Ramos (tenor, lead guitar), Jim Yester (tenor, rhythm guitar, keyboards), Ted Bluechel Jr. (baritone, drums) and Cole (bass, bass guitar). Everybody in the band could sing lead as well as harmony.  It was a notable strength, their vocals were near flawless. They were inducted into the vocal group Hall of Fame in 2003. It was the last time the original lineup would play together. The Association had eight top forty hits, not too shabby and as of this new millennium three of the 100 most played songs played on the radio are Association songs  - Cherish (5 million +), Never My Love (8 million +) and Windy (4 million +).

 In 1969 The Association was riding the crest of a wave. They enjoyed massive success and appeared on all the right television shows from Ed Sullivan to the Smothers Brothers. Their hip quotient was gaining some currency even though they were decidedly un-cool for writing so many cloying love songs.

 The CMU administration was attempting to lure students to the campus through a new emphasis on collegiate social activities. This included the development of a concert series featuring some of the most popular bands in rock & roll including Neil Diamond, Blood Sweat & Tears, Spanky & Our Gang, the Cryan Shames, The Turtles and The Association.  It was a social agenda that spoke to the students interests in the late sixties. I was there for the music and to impress my girlfriend and maybe get a smooch or two. Hell, it seemed everyone was in love and making out – some heavy mashing, indeed.

 

  The Association opened the show with The Time It Is Today. The stage was dark as the first strains of the guitar moaned with a minor chord as Kirkman’s flute offered contrasting accents. The lights gradually appeared as the darkness faded. The night makes room for the rising sun. Giguere sings the intro in unison with the band

 Sunrise Sunset                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  What you’re born with                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Is what you get            

This is a clear-eyed treatise on youthful rebellion and government misanthropy, as Giguere sings                                                                                                                                                                                                                             They’re lying, killing, and pushing their rules                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          They tell me the prophets all are just fools

The song was relevant to our country’s divisiveness over the Vietnam War, Civil Rights, Women’s Rights, Free Speech, and the Selective Service System (mandatory military service – my number was 55)

Surprisingly (to me) Giguere was the most prominent vocalist on this night, singing lead on seven songs.

 Cole was the affable MC and lead the audience through a “get to know you” exercise in which he instructs us to look into the eyes of a neighbor, wish them peace and say “I love you.” It was a hoot.

The next song was Along Comes Mary, the Association’s first big monster hit. On record the musical dynamics were crisp and the vocals were clear and upfront in the mix but the live version was plodding and the instrumentation rudimentary. The vocals were husky, breathless and off time. It seemed that Yester was incapable of shoe-horning the lyrics into the verse. He’s a great singer but this was a train wreck.

Larry Ramos pure tenor hit the mark on Like Always though Yester’s piano work was not as jazzy or intricate as the recorded version. The background vocals were just a bit off and the intricate vocal sections were difficult to duplicate. Each singer contributed to a particular part e.g., high harmony, unison and low registers. It was very good and a nice stretch for the band.

Kirkman and Ramos teamed up on a spectacular version of Never My Love. The soaring harmonies were heavenly and Yester’s singing on the bridge –“Never My Love” was spot on and his keyboard solo was the perfect  punctuation to the verse.

Giguere did a great interpretation of Dylan’s One Too Many Mornings and his intense bluesy take on Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You was ahead of its time. The country funk of Blistered was a huge surprise. I loved the adult themes and irreverence in the lyrics. He followed with an incredible take on his hit, Time for Livin’. It was jazzed up in a cool syncopated arrangement that was faithful to the recorded version. Once again the backing vocals were an impressive blending of bass, baritone and tenor voices – thanks to Clark Burroughs vocal arrangements!

I was looking forward to hearing their latest hit, Everything That Touches You. It was a love anthem that transcended the moon & june lyrics typically associated with teenagers. The lyrics were a combination of wonder, yearning and the soulfulness of a deeply felt love. From the first note I sensed that something was very wrong. The instrumentation was off and the tempo was a mess. Cole kept the bass poppin’ a big riff  but the other instruments didn’t fill in the blanks. Musical spaces are good but there were definite outages – too many spaces. The songs lost its fragile spark and momentum. I sat slack-jawed, stunned. How could this great band fall apart so completely and ruin one of their true musical masterpieces. I couldn’t speculate how it happened. It was then I realized that the Association were a great vocal band but only adequate musicians.

Jim Yester’s reading on No Fair At All was simply beautiful and it helped the band recover its confidence and resolve. It is a simple song with a verse/chorus structure and basic instrumentation. Yester’s pure tenor soared over the music - a great performance. The song is about unexpectedly falling in love with an old friend.

Ramos came back to sing  Are You Ready, a sweet little rocker, the heaviest  tune of the night and a genuine mixture of energy and craft. The show was self-righting, a cool homeostasis. They were hitting on all the cylinders and living up to the hype.

The newly released Just About the Same had a Caribbean motif with a shuffle beat, unison vocals and spectacular harmonies. It is a true charmer about universal nature of our species. We are all the same despite our differences. It is about living in peace and love.

Requiem For the Masses sounds like a Catholic Liturgy, a song of faith or perhaps it’s a metaphor about war and death. Maybe it’s both. It is written and sung by Terry Kirkman with the other five members singing heavenly harmonies. It is a dialectical dilemma. It is a religious spiritual as well as a form of social commentary. It was one of the best anti-war songs of the sixties. It was a gutsy call to put it out in the first place as our country was strictly divided between political factions. At any rate it’s a song rare in its scope and depth – a masterpiece and the Association nailed that night. The lyrics…

Mama Mama forget your pies                                                                                                                                                                                                       Have faith they won’t get cold                                                                                                                                              And turn your eyes to the bloodshot sky                                                                                                                                              Your flag is flying full                                                                                                                                                                                                               At half-mast for the matador                                                                                                                                      who turned his back to please the crowd                                                                                                                                           And all fell before the bull

Six Man Band was a rare Association rocker with fuzz guitar and a big back beat and it set the stage for the last two songs in the show.

They closed with two of their most popular songs Cherish and Windy. The arrangements were true to the recorded versions.  Kirkman’s lead vocal on Cherish had depth and nuance while Giguere’s take on Windy was breezy and cool and the full range and complicated harmonies from Yester, Ramos and Buechel were perfectly executed.

I left feeling that I experienced something special. I’ve been a fan of those glorious Association pocket symphonies ever since.

 In 1982 I attended a performance in Flint (funded by the Mott Foundation) by the original band save for Brian Cole who passed away years before. They sounded great and announced a new tour and new recordings. The performed Walk Away Renee (Left Banke) that night and eventually recorded it for an LP entitled 1995; A Little Bit More. They also did a set list of their greatest hits. I was hoping they would perform a few songs from their 1972 masterpiece - Waterbeds in Trinidad.  It seemed unfair that it was so roundly ignored. It proved to be the swan song of the original band. But those great obscure songs remain - Come The Fall, Kicking The Gong Around, Silent Song Through the Land, Darling Be Home Soon (Lovin’ Spoonful) and Snow Queen.  

All those vintage Association Recordings are available  through eBay, Amazon, Spotify and Zune. Enjoy!

 

 

Neil Diamond Live @ CMU 1969

                                                            

Neil Diamond Live @ Central Michigan University 1969

 

There’s been a lot of smack talked about Neil Diamond for maybe 30years now -his pretentious delivery; his overblown bombastic songs; and slick overwrought productions; and his sorry maudlin appeal to a middle-of the-road bourgeoisie. This seems pretty much true to me but what the critics do not remember or were too young to witness was Neil Diamond’s glorious folk rock beginnings - Brill Building meets Dylan…or James Taylor. Diamond was more of a rocker than a pop singer in those days and his onstage persona was at once quite exciting and familiar. Hell, when he talked to the audience it was like servin’ up a dish a goulash in the kitchen, just real familiar and comfortable. And yet, there was an edge to him that was just a bit elusive. He seemed a bit socially awkward as if he didn’t quite fit in with anybody anywhere unless he was onstage. This is where he could unleash his demons and become something other than the solitary man. He was sensitive and yet his ill-defined doubts and internal sense of unease seemed to be masked by his “Neil Diamond” persona. I immediately liked him and I loved his introspective, personal yet accessible songs. His early songwriting career in New York was quite remarkable. Like a sponge on a mop, he learned about song structure, hooks and melody rom some of the best songwriters in the business such as Goffin & King, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. He had developed a knack for pop music and scored hits with Jay & The Americans (Sunday & Me) and the Monkees (I’m a Believer, Love to Love). His music was based in the original rhythms of the streets in New York. Do wop and pop.  These now ancient sounds were gradually transformed with help from the Beatles, Dave Clark Five and the Rolling Stones and were essentially co-opted by an industry that favored bottom rung of disposable artists riding the engine of instant stardom ala American Idol that chugged along to the tune of a narrowly defined demographic, delivered and discarded in the ebb and flow of corporate interests. Mediocrity prevailed – as it always will. It’s the American way. Yet our dear rock ‘n roll was ultimately bought and sold out and it natural energy and spontaneity – its very soul - was all but lost in the mix. Perhaps this is the true story of Neil Diamond. But in 1969, Diamond’s worst tendencies were only a whisper and his talent shouted out from the stage and millions of us took notice. His band was a small 4-piece.  Neil played rhythm guitar with Randy Sterling was on bass and Eddie Rubin on drums. The guitarist Carol Hunter was the standout. She had a cool sexy stage presence and Diamond mugged and schmoozed with her throughout the ninety minute show. Not only was she beautiful, she was also an excellent guitarist and a great singer. She used a solid body Fender 12-string and picked it like George Harrison. In fact before working with Diamond, she made a name for herself in the New York club scene as a highly regarded top notch musician. It was highly unusual for a woman at that time to have such a prominent role as a guitarist. She was HOT and in demand. During this concert the interplay between Diamond and Hunter was equally as hot. Diamond introduced her, saying she was not just a great guitarist but she was “soft...and uh…warm…mmm…so warm…and soft…ahem”. He also mentioned something about getting in the back seat of the car. Yep, ‘ol Neil was a huge flirt. The music was exceptional. The opener Song for the Asking (by Simon & Garfunkel) segued into Lordy, Diamond’s most rockin’ song ever. Led by Hunter’s incredible12-string attack, this song proved to be the sleeper hit of the entire show. Diamond played all of his hits and a few covers such as Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now. Diamond said that Mitchell was one of his favorite singer/songwriters and that he loved her poetic lyricism and her lovely cantilevered ass. Solitary Man was followed by Holly Holy. Diamond introduced Cherry Cherry by stating that he didn’t sing “cherry” once during the course of the song. I believed him and when I told my girlfriend and anyone else who cared to listen about the show I told them that Diamond never sang the word “cherry” during the song. Cherry Cherry?” She asked with a twisted grin on her mug, “Well, what did he sing.” I said, “I...ah..um – I don’t know but it wasn’t Cherry Cherry. She could only shake her head and smile. One by one each of his little Brill Building nuggets took on a new life in the rockin’ arrangements of this little four piece ensemble; Sweet Caroline Kentucky Woman, Thank the Lord For The Nighttime. Hunter’s exquisite background vocals add additional punch to Diamond’s sometimes wavering intonations. He is a great vocalist but not much of a singer. Diamond did a few album cuts such as the country-tinged satire, You’re So Sweet (Horseflies Keep Hanging Round Your Face), And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind and Diamond’s personal favorite, The Singer Sang His Song. Diamond had great difficulty hitting the notes and holding pitch.  Throughout the performance Diamond told stories about his songs, the early country influences, hearing Solitary Man on the radio for the very first time, and even making mild anti-war comments.   The show closed with the stripped down gospel-rocker Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show. I left feeling as if I witnessed a first-hand account of a humble genius at work, creating great music and putting together an incredibly tight four-piece band that could re-interpret his songs. My God, I thought, it doesn’t get any better than this. And for several years, I was a confirmed Neil Diamond fan. I bought all of his albums and attended shows in1971 and 1972. But something had changed. The band was getting increasingly bigger, more proficient, but not better. The arrangements were slick and more polished but that down home intimate in the-kitchen vibe was disappearing and Diamond’s singing was becoming almost melodramatic. His voice no longer creaked and cracked, it bellowed as his phrasing became pretentious and operatic - he held notes longer in the chorus but he began talking through the verses. I would have never guessed that Diamond’s musical metamorphosis would take him to a creative nadir with the Jazz Singer and Jonathan Livingston Seagull. It was curious to me that his adoring fans would accept this bombast hook, line and sinker. But I remember Neil Diamond in 1969.

And he was glorious!

Peace,

 Bo White

 

 

The Byrds Live @ Daniels Den 1966

 

 

The Byrds

1966

Live @ Daniels Den

 

 I was anticipating a great show by a band hyped as the American Beatles. The Byrds  consisted of seasoned ex-folkies who cut their teeth on college campuses and small clubs.  Jim McGuinn (singer, lead guitar) performed with The Limeliters and the Chad Mitchell Trio and was briefly a Brill Building songwriter writer under the guidance of the incredibly gifted Bobby Darin. Gene Clark (singer, tambourine) was a natural singer and songsmith who sang leads and harmony with The New Christy Minstrels.  A chance meeting at the Troubadour led McGuinn and Clark to form a duo playing Beatles covers and Beatlesque versions of traditional folk songs. They were on fire. Soon after David Crosby (vocals, guitar), a former crooner for Les Baxter’s Balladeers, joined McGuinn and Clark and called themselves the Jet Set. This became the nucleus of the Byrds. The year was 1964 and the music scene was evolving rapidly. Michael Clarke (drums) came on board not so much for his musical skills but for his uncanny resemblance to Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones. He had good hair. Chris Hillman (bass guitar) was a country gentlemen and a multi-instrumentalist who mastered the bass guitar almost effortlessly.

In 1964 Jim Dickson, the manager of the Byrds, got his mitts on an acetate of an unreleased Dylan song entitled Mr. Tambourine Man. The band did not like it at first; it was a bit meandering and went on and on like Dylan songs do but they toyed with it in rehearsals, giving it a rock band arrangement and changing the time signature from 2/4 to 4/4. It became a different song. The Byrds were like sculptors bringing an object out of a slab of marble. The results were simply breathtaking.  Mr. Tambourine Man was released on April 12^th, 1965 and by June it was #1 in the charts with a bullet. A new genre was created by that song. It was called Folk Rock and it was characterized by McGuinn’s jangly 12-string Rickenbacker and clear harmony singing. McGuinn and Clark would sing in unison with Crosby singing the high harmony. It was an entirely new sound, majestic and hauntingly beautiful. The band was also creating fashion trends; McGuinn’s granny glasses, Crosby’s striking suede green cape, Beatle haircuts and a studied aloofness onstage suggesting California cool and a non-conformist attitude. They were all the rage. You could see them on Ed Sullivan, Shindig and Hullaballoo and hear them all over the radio from east coast to west coast and all points in between.

 The Byrds were my new musical heroes displacing the Bossmen, The Dave Clark Five and the Beatles – in that order. So when the Den’s mammoth red velvet curtain opened and revealed the cool detached visages of my heroes I was right at the lip of the stage hanging on every word and every sound. They looked just like they did on Sullivan; Crosby with his cape, McGuinn with the granny glasses and the Beatle-ish looking Gene Clark looking bored and smackin’ the tambourine on his hip.  The rest of the band seemed transparent like they weren’t onstage. McGuinn intoned something like “umm…ahh …it’s nice to be here…we’re not used to getting up this early.”  Then they launched into their big hit Mr. Tambourine Man. The famous intro sounded spectacular with that melodic tonal brilliance that helped define folk rock forever after. But after a few bars, McGuinn began singing the verse, it was barely audible. The sound was dreadful. The harmony singing on the chorus was washed out and I could only hear McGuinn’s lower register. Even worse the band seemed listless even bored. California cool needed a wake up call, snap the rubber band and wake up for chrisssakes. They were like an engine with a manual transmission that couldn’t get out of first gear. The clutch ain’t working, brother. They followed with a Gene Clark chestnut Feel a Whole Lot Better. It’s a great song and Clark sang his ass off but once again the harmonies were muffled or nonexistent. They went on to perform Bells of Rhymney (Pete Seeger’s adaptation of an Idris Davies poem), Chimes of Freedom but the performance were lacked energy and conviction. Twenty minutes later they ended the show with the exquisiteTURN! TURN!TURN! (To Everything There is a Season) and walked off stage. McGuinn remained at the microphone as the big red velvet Curtain closed McGuinn mumbled “that’s it, sorry.”  I thought it was odd yet incredible that my hero would apologize for a lackluster performance. I thought that maybe this matinee performance was ill-timed for a group that is not used to playing in the late afternoon. Some said they were smoking marijuana and were too high. Donny Hartman was a member of the Chevelles at the time and he opened the show for the Byrds. Donny is one of the nice guys in rock & roll and made a name for himself as a singer and guitarist in the Frost, one of Michigan’s greatest bands. His assessment – “they were dicks.”

The Byrds were the Worst Great Band I’ve Ever Seen

Peace

Bo

Addendum:  In 1974 I was enjoying my final year at Michigan State University. I was enjoying myself, on top of my game, academically speaking but also listening to a lot of great music, seeing the Woolies @ Lizards and attending concerts @ Jenison Fieldhouse (the Guess Who, Steve Miller Band, The Beach Boys,  Peter Frampton etc. ). But one of my fondest musical memories came from a rare performance by Roger McGuinn at the Stable, a cozy East Lansing Concert venue. I took a date and we shared a bottle of wine and enjoyed an incredible show by McGuinn. He used a 12-string acoustic guitar and sang solo. His voice was in great shape and the acoustics were perfect. He played all his Byrds hits from Mr. Tambourine Man to Chestnut Mare and everything in between.  He sang some obscurities like Tiffany Lamp, Just a Season, Lover of the Bayou and near hits like Ballad of Easy Rider and Jesus is Just Alright. It was a brilliant stripped down to the basics performance.  It was one of the most intimate musical statements I’ve ever experienced.

 

The McCoys

 Live @ Daniels Den

January 1970

I was really looking forward to finally seeing my musical heroes the McCoys. They were about my age and they played blues based pop and retro rock & roll with great harmonies, a strong backbeat, organ flourishes, and a distinctive jangly guitar. The hits were pure gold and I collected everyone one of them The 12 bar blues of Hang on Sloopy and Fever; the delectable bubblegum rock of (You Make Me feel) So Good, the Louie Louie vibe of I Got To Go Back (And Watch That Little Girl Dance) as well as the psychedelic rock of Don’t Worry Mother (Your Son’s Heart is Pure) and the dramatic maturity of Beat the Clock. I even liked the distinctive bright yellow BANG label that depicts an old fashioned six shooter emitting a contoured bubble with the BANG logo in bold red silhouetted in black. Loved it.  The McCoys consisted of two brothers Randy (drums, vocals) and Rick Zehringer (guitar and lead vocals-later known as Rick Derringer), Randy Jo Hobbes (bass, vocals), and Bobby Peterson (keyboards, vocals). Between 1968 and 1969 The McCoys morphed like a caterpillar to a butterfly and began a drastic 180 degree musical shift to harder blues-based rock and jazz-based psychedelia. It started with an LP entitled Infinite McCoys. It seemed unfocused and too eclectic for a more concise musical statement. Still, they delivered a few shining moments with Jesse Brady (released as a low charting single), the Popsicle rock of Song For Janie and the country-influenced Rosa Rodriguez. However Human Ball was a huge step forward even with its jazzy pretensions and its meandering eclecticism. Zehinger found his voice as a guitar slinger and did blistering version of Stormy Monday Blues as well as Daybreak an R&B influenced tune and a rootsy cover of Dylan’s All Over You.  I must admit that I did indeed buy these LPs when they were first released and I did not understand what the McCoys were attempting to do. I was not familiar with blues at that point in my life and I just wanted to hear the hits. It wasn’t met to be.

They opened with Daybreak which seemed to go on and on.  Human Ball Blues was an exquisite introduction to 12 Bar Blues. They did a jazz workout on Epilogue and a hard core rant on Clergy Lies. I recognized each member of the band but they looked older. The guitarist Rick Zehringer played his ass off. He was light years ahead of the riffs he created for Hang on Sloopy and his other pop hits. He was a monster guitarist capable of picking lightening quick licks with fat tones and incredible harmonics. He could play fast and clean with as many notes as you could pile into a guitar case. The band was tight, even brilliant. The rhythm section was in the pocket and the organist played fluid jazz like he was Mose Allison. The band took a break at this point t clear are heads and are shattered ear drums. Toward the end of the break I saw the guitarist standing next to Frank Patrick, one of the owners of Daniel’s Den. I was standing close by with my buddy Tom Merry (later a football star @ Ball State) complaining that the McCoys weren’t playing any of their hits. So Tom saunters over to Zehringer and Patrick, interrupted their conversation and said pointedly, “Hey, play some of your hits.” They just stared back at him. But after the break the McCoys played Hang on Sloopy, Fever and their last chart single the incredible Jesse Brady (about being caught cheating). I was beside myself. It was a great show even though or because of – I’m not sure - The McCoys didn’t succumb to just doing a retrospective of their hits.

 A few years later I saw Johnny Winter And @ Cobo Hall with the Faces (Rod Stewart) and Three Dog Night headlining (weird lineup but very cool). As Winters blistering Louder than GOD set rambled on, I noticed that the McCoys were the backing band,  now known as AND. I remembered their modest yet transformative performance at Daniels Den and I knew that I seen the caterpillar turn into a butterfly that night in January 1970. And I smiled.

 

 

The Gentrys

Live @ Daniels Den

September 6^th 1968

 

The Gentrys may have had little impact in the history of rock & roll but they were one of my favorite bands in the sixties. They played Daniels Den on several occasions and I just happened to see the last show of their original lineup. It was a total gas. They had a few hits at the time. Including their breakout million seller Keep On Dancing from there it went pretty much downhill despite the release of several gems produced by the legendary Chips Moman including Everyday I Have to Cry, Spread It On Thick, Brown Paper Sack, You Make Me Feel Good (a great cover of a Zombies album track), I Can’t Get Out of Denver, Woman of the World. They were hot for a New York minute and their management finagled television spots on Hullabaloo, Shindig, and Where the Action Is. They even managed to place them in the 1966 teen exploitation movie It’s Bikini World. They toured with the Beach Boys and Sony & Cher  (who hadn’t) and joined Dick Clark’s package tours where the groups would play a couple hits and run offstage to make room for the next band. After paying all the bills it wasn’t much money yet it was needed exposure for the group.The band consisted of Larry Raspberry (leader/singer), Jimmy Hart (vocalist/harmonies), Larry Wall (drums), Bruce Bowles (vocals), and Pat Neal (Bass guitar).The newest member was Larry Butler and extraordinary talent who went on to produce Kenny Rogers, Johnny Cash, Crystal Gayle, Dottie West and BJ Thomas.

The Gentrys were a Memphis band and reveled in the richness of the local scene. They were just high school kids when Keep On Dancing was picked up by MGM which was a major label at the time. The rest is history. Memphis is an extraordinary mecca for talented musicians. It is no wonder that a city the eats, sleeps and drinks music could hoist such talents as Alex Chilton, Booker T & the MGs, Issac Hayes to the top of the National charts. There is no doubt that the Gentrys were cocooned by a golden web of talent and innovation. They were the first Memphis rock band to make it to the top of the Billboard charts ending up at # 4 with a bullet.

The original Larry Raspberry-led Gentrys performed at Daniels Den on three occasions and I was lucky enough to see one of their last performances before packing it in. Vocalist Jimmy Hart resurrected the Gentrys and played the Den two more times between January and October 1969.

The show was a love fest from start to finish. Raspberry was on top of his game, singing well, telling jokes and leaping from the dance floor  up to the first tier of seats left of the stages. The girls swooned and the guys laughed. It was Raspberry who held it all together. It didn’t matter that their new drummer missed the intro to Keep on Dancing by half a beat. Raspberry just looked at him briefly, smiled and laughed broadly. No harm, no foul. They performed their hits and the sound was perfect. The harmonies on You Make Me Feel Good were exquisite with Hart accompanying Raspberry’s solid lead. Everyday I Have to Cry Some was a poor boy’s anthem and they nailed it. They performed a few covers including Dedicated to The One I Love (the Shirelles’ version, not the lush Mamas & Papas version); I Can’t Go Back To Denver. They even did Ain’t To Proud To Beg, a Motown masterpiece resurrected through the lens of Raspberry and his Memphis cats and nailed the high energy Latino rocker Let’s Dance.  They performed a soulful Everyday I Have to Cry Some that segued to Don’t Let It Be This Time (the B-side), a real tearjerker sung perfectly by Jimmy Hart. Great pipes! The popish Woman of the World sounded almost Beatlesque. Raspberry was developing his chops as a songwriter and sang one of his originals entitled There Are Two Sides to Every Story followed by Bye Bye Baby a high energy garage rocker!

I left the show with the firm conviction that Larry Raspberry was the talent and focal point of the band. He could jump around, run around the stage, climb to the second level and jump back down on the dance floor. He was a great singer and a storyteller, the perfect front man. Years later I saw him perform with his band Larry Raspberry & the High Steppers. It was some tasty Memphis rockin’ soul. I loved his new songs especially Jive Ass and Baby Get Out of Bed (Once is Enough For Me).  Years later I saw Raspberry perform at Pine Knob on a One Hit Wonders Tour. I wanted to stand up and shout that Raspberry was not a One Hit Wonder that he had several modest hits with the Gentrys and the High Steppers. But I didn’t; He might be remembered for Keep On Dancing but there was so much more

 

The Kingmen

Live @ Daniel’s Den

1965

I was excited about seeing my heroes from Portland Oregon, The Kingsmen. It was only the second rock show I’d ever attended. It was only a few months earlier that I saw Simon & Garfunkel @ the Y A-Go-Go. I was a bit disappointed with that show, they seemed so uncomfortable and their music was folky and cerebral and Garfunkel had a big blonde ‘fro that gave him an eerie other-worldly look. The Kingsmen were different. They played that goodtime early version of rock & roll that focused on the beat. They already had a ton of hits and performed on Where the Action Is, Upbeat and Ed Sullivan; can’t beat that. The leader was Lynn Easton, a chubby and affable grunt with a gravelly voice and limited range but a whole lot of personality. Rumor had it that his mother owned the rights to the Kingsmen name. I didn’t care one way or another I just wanted to see my heroes up close and personal. I squeezed myself to the front of the stage and remained there for the entire show.

The band looked older than most of the teenage bands on the hit parade and their musicianship was simply superb. The rhythm section was tight as a vise. The bassist Norm Sudholm was always in the pocket. He had short hair and looked like a chubby father knows best dude. The drummer Dick Peterson had a lock on the time and was in my view one of the most talented members of band. But it was the keyboard player Barry Curtis who pulled everything together. He talked and made faces at the audience, all in good humor. He’s the dude with the deep voice that did the intro to Jolly Green Giant.  Make no mistake Easton was in charge of the show. He sang lead on most of the songs, played rudimentary saxophone and played drums on Louie Louie, allowing Peterson his only vocal of the night.

They did all of their hits from the opener Louie Louie to Little Latin Lupe Lu, Money, and Jolly Green Giant. They also did a take on Little Sally Tease, a Jim “Harpo” Valley song written for Don & the Goodtimes prior to his enlistment in Paul Revere & the Raiders. Mitchell and Peterson performed Grass is Green one of their superlative garage anthems and it went over well with the eager teenage crowd. The Kingsmen were fine rock & roll musicians that were comfortable enough to highlight their show with several instrumentals such as the cool Bent Scepter and the even cooler David’s Mood. The guitarist Mike Mitchell, trade off leads with Easton on Little Latin Lupe Lu. Easton penned two of their later hits Annie Fanny and The Climb. Easton proved to be an excellent MC, he mugged and taunted the crowd about playing Wipeout whether we liked it or not. He tilted his head, frowned and intoned deeply…”we don’t do that one.” It was all in good fun and in keeping with their Frat Rock reputation of the band. I left the show filled with the gospel of those five Portland musicians. I was a forever after a true believer in the voodoo of the Kingsmen.

Thirty Years later they came back to Saginaw in a package that included Paul Revere & the Raiders. The Raiders were a huge disappointment, no Fang, no Harpo or Smitty and Mark Lindsey was nowhere in sight. They didn’t sound too bad and they had sparkly stage uniforms but struck no real currency for me. The Kingsmen still had three original members from ’65, Peterson, Mitchell and Curtis, the core of their live shows for all those years. They rocked harder than they did in ’65, blame it on the advanced technology. They didn’t do many of their classics but their updated versions of Money, Little Latin Lupe Lu and David’s Mood were simply outstanding. The grump I had was they did too many covers of classic rock songs such as The Last time (Stones), Love Me Two Times (The Doors) and Oh Darling (The Beatles). I preferred the old time rock & roll covers they did like Hand Jive, Rumble and Matchbox. All in all it was a splendid night of music. All Hail Garage Rock!!

Addendum:

In November 1994, a lawsuit was heard by Federal court Judge Robert Keller. The Kingsmen brought suit against G.M.L Inc. and Highland Music Inc. for royalties never paid to the Kingsmen for the uses of their recordings. The lawsuit was resolved in the late nineties after the companies’ attorney acknowledged that the Kingsmen were not paid royalties for over 30 years. A lower court judge granted the The Kingsmen all royalties from the time they sued. This amounted to a few million dollars. The Kingsmen had finally won control their 1963 monster hit, "Louie, Louie". The Supreme Court let stand a ruling that gave the band their unpaid royalties and control of the song's master recording. Since that time the Kingsmen have been actively assisting other sixties artists who have been bamboozled by the recording industry. Love the Kingsmen. Good Guys!

The Climax Blues Band

Live @ the Brewery in East Lansing

1973

To be truthful I had not known much about the Climax Blues Band when I sauntered back into my favorite club. At that point, I had been attending MSU for three years and had checked out all the clubs. I loved seeing the Woolies at Lizards and I saw Byrds front man Roger McGuinn @ a small bourgeois chain of clubs known as the Coral Gables but I always preferred the Brewery. It had more of a working class feel and the price for beer was reasonable. I had nothing better to do so I hooked up with my best buddy “the Nabber” and made it to the how on time. After several beers and an opening act I cannot remember, Climax Blue Band took the stage. The lead guitarist and singer Peter Haycock wad the focal point. He could play guitar like ringing a bell – straight up 12 bar blues with or without the slide, hard rock, boogie, country, pop – he could do it all. He was just a sprite of a man, the rest of the group towered over him. The bassist Derek Holt kept a strong bottom and he was a great harmony singer while Colin Cooper blew a mean sax and he could sing leads with his smooth supple baritone. They opened the show with the sultry and sensuous All the Time in the World. It is a mid-tempo rocker that is a mature statement about sex and love – a masterpiece that should have been a #1 hit – only it went on for six minutes. I Am Constant followed. It is a pop-oriented ode to honesty

I Am Constant

As the morning star
Shines out of the sky
And I am constant
Never knowing if it's

Truth that's in your eyes,
As unchanging as the rivers flow,
But heaven knows I've tried
Rearranging different music

But still the same inside
I am constant...
I am constant
As the morning star

Shines down from above
And I am truthful
But who knows the truth
When jokers fall in love

Dust and ashes take the best of us
But what goes on before
Superficial as humanity
When people go to war

I am constant...
I am you...yes I am...

They followed with Flight an extended jazz/blues jam with a unique interplay between the lead guitar, bass, keyboard and saxophone. It meandered a bit but it allowed the musician to stretch out and get down. The band went back to their origins with a knockout version of Willie Dixon’s masterpiece Seventh Son. Standing by the River and So Many Roads are a back-to back blues rockers that pay homage to the bands early influences. The use the 12-bar format to stretch out and jam with Haycock’s brilliant guitar work and extended keyboard and saxophone flourishes. It was during this extended jam that I got up and danced in front of the band pulling up my smiley face tee shirt over my head and bouncing around like a happy lunatic. They didn’t seem to notice and as I continued to listen to the band and appreciate their great music I felt just like a fool. The leader Colin Cooper takes the vocals on the upbeat rocker You Make Me Sick. Haycock ripped it up with some brilliant slide work.

At this point of the show, they performed Shake Your Love, a hit on our college radio station. I loved the rawness and the heat of this lurid tale of sex and debauchery. It has a speeded up Bo Diddley beat and screaming harp that is deliciously primal. The lyrics don’t hold anything back

Mama mama when you hear me call

It’s time to rock and it’s time to ball

Can be rough so hold on tight

We gonna shake some love tonight

Gonna shake some love tonight

Gonna jump and shout, gonna scratch and bite

Gonna Shake your love tonight

Rolly Polly jump the gun

We’ll keep on shaking till the morning come

I can tell by the look in your eyes

You just won the super prize

Up and down and in and out

I’m gonna show you what it’s all about

You don’t need your high class friends

Cos  I’m gonna shake your love again\

The show ended with Wilbert Harrison’s magnificent peace and brotherhood anthem Let’s Work Together - a perfect closer. Last time I heard about the Climax Blue band they had a radio hit with Couldn’t Get it Right, not a bad song but it had nowhere near the power and artistry of the songs they performed at the Brewery in 1973. By the mid-eighties Colin Cooper was the only member left from that classic lineup in 1973.  Through the ensuing years Peter Haycock was involved in several projects including a tour with a re-formatted Electric Light Orchestra. But in 1973 he was on top of his game, a real master of the art of blues based rock & roll. 

Badfinger Live @ The Brewery

Badfinger in 1974

Live @ the Brewery in East Lansing

Badfinger is one of my all-time favorite bands. I have a bitter sweet memory of their great live performances and uneven yet compelling recorded body of work. Dan Matovina authored a definitive history of the band in 1997 entitles Without You; The Tragic Story of Badfinger. Mantovina weaves a masterful tale of this star crossed band that deserved more than it ever got. The villain proved to be Badfinger’s manager Stan Polley who controlled the band’s finance and set them up with near subsistence wages while collecting 30% of the gross receipts. It was criminal. But I never realized the financial burden Badfinger lived under during their recording and touring heyday.

I attended my first Badfinger concert in December 1970 @ the Midland High School gymnasium. One of the deejays  Scott  Seeburger, a precocious teenage wunderkind deejay who operated a unlicensed public access radio station in the basement of his parent’ home ala Wayne and Garth in Wayne’s World. It was a great show. The opener was Michigan rocker Third Power. They did a rockin’ set that included their version of Little Drummer Boy. It was a good warm up for what happened next. Badfinger hit the stage to a mild response. They looked awkward, a bit shy with no electrifying pop star stage presence. They opened with a rousing version of I Can’t Take It and proceeded to play almost the entire No Dice LP including  kick-ass versions of No Matter What and Waterford John. Molland’s compositions Love Me Do and Better Days were a counterpoint to Ham’s more melodic songs. Ham’s poignant reading of We’re For the Dark was a perfect illustration of his sense of melody and lyricism. Pete Ham’s Voice was incredible. He possessed a four octave range that could reach way down low and then hit the stratosphere. His country tinged Blodwyn got a mild response for a crowd that seemed to prefer rock & roll. Badfinger reached back to their eponymous debut LP with Crimson Ship (about Paul McCartney), Midnight Sun – another great mid-tempo rocker penned by Ham. The band closed the show with Rock of Ages breathlessly sung  by bassist Tom Evans. It was stunning working-class performance without any frills or pretension, just good music.

 I continued to follow Badfinger throughout the next four years culminating in another great Badfinger performance in 1974 in my final year at Michigan State University. In my four years there, I became a regular at the Brewery in East Lansing. It was the most important venue on campus. It was just a bar but the folks at the Brewery were true believers. In my last two years in town I attended shows by Joe Walsh & Barnstorm, the Climax Blues Band, and the glorious Rory Gallagher. I will write up review of those incredible gigs as well so stay tuned.

As I waited for Badfinger to hit the stage I noticed that there weren’t any roadies setting up the equipment.  The band was doing their own set-up. I got the gumption and wallowed my fear and approached Badfinger drummer Mike Gibbins. We talked about Paul McCartney’s Band on the Run – Gibbins opined “that’s a good one” a well as their latest disc Badfinger and I praised several songs including Give it Up and Andy Norris – two hard rockers penned by Joey Molland, Gibbin’s Why Don’t We Talk and Pete Ham’s funky Matted Spam. I was pumped!

After an extended and loud sound check Badfinger took the stage. They opened with Molland singing Only You Know and I Know (penned by Dave Mason) and proceeded to rock hard and loud with a triumvirate of songs from their ASS LP -Constitution, Blind Owl and Timeless.  This was not the Badfinger I saw in 1970. They were much louder, so loud that I yelled at them to turn it down. People around me told me to “shut up.” I did. And I got use to the volume as the show progressed   It was apparent that they were no longer the Beatlesque mop-tops from 1970. They updated their sound and the dynamic interplay and the harmonic leads between guitarists Molland and Ham was astonishing, inspired.  It was apparent that Badfinger had been listening to the twin lead harmonics of the Allman Brothers and was able to incorporate it into their power pop-oriented framework.  Molland seemed to be at the front and center of this phase of Badfinger, assuming more of the spotlight with his hard rocking tunes.  He contributed the raucous Give it Up, Feelin’ Alright (another Mason song), Suitcase and Andy Norris. Pete Ham was still the putative leader and he commanded attention whenever he sang with his rich, full range tenor. He contributed a rock hard versions of Name of the Game, I Can’t Take It,  Day After Day,  and Take it All. It was a masterful performance. I left feeling that Badfinger was at the top of their game and had a bright future ahead of them. Instead it all fell apart. Badfinger’s tragic end was one of the most inglorious chapters in a corrupt music industry. They deserved better.

Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Louder Than Love-The Grande Ballroom Story

Tony D’Annunzio Producer/Director

Louder Than Love is a film that needed to be made. It is a documentary that is both natural and stylized using film, photos and interviews with some of the major figures involved with the Grande Ballroom from 1966 - 1970. It has a gutsy realism that documents a time of upheaval in the American zeitgeist, a blip in the cheesy processed culture that relied on conformity and the ascendance of the status quo. It seemed that millions of young campus radicals across the country believed America needed a major overhaul. Music became a guiding force that seemed to influence every stratum of our society. It was a time of unrest, fueled by a burgeoning class of people from every race, creed and color who dared to challenge the idea of normalcy. The civil rights movement inspired the Black Panther Party, women’s liberation and children’s rights. John Sinclair’s White Panther radicalism created the scaffolding for the MC5 to explore new forms of industrial music and free speech.  It was a time of change when freedom of expression took on a brand new hue and cry. It was most evident in the ascendance Rock Music as an art form on par with the classical masters. Bach and Beethoven moved aside for the Beatles, Dylan and the Stones. For many the era signaled a crisis of materialism and the emptiness of the acquisition of wealth. It was a transformative era of spiritual awakening, our first experience of romantic love and beauty.

 D’Annunzio has awakened a sleeping beast, the remnants of our better selves before the rot set in. We aged but we did not forget. The release of this film is a sweet validation of our capacity to embrace life in the moment, to be free from the invisible shackles of a failed and punitive state and rediscover the soundtrack of our youth. It is louder than love.

Tony D’Annunzio is a renaissance man with a sense of honor and purpose. His commitment to the Louder Than Love project was impenetrable. D’Annunzio never for a second gave up his dream even at the worst of times when he was ignored or when he faced uncertain cross roads. He is man who can smile broadly and mean it. He can belly laugh out loud and get you laughing with him. He has been around the world but will talk to you like the guy next door cutting the grass and taking out the trash. He never gets chesty with a false sense of importance and he will never shoot you down with a bullet of bourgeois snootiness. He is a self-made man; his father’s son. He is a force of nature and that’s what it took to make this film happen

I’ve read that you have over 22 years of network TV including all the major networks and VH1, MTV, MSNBC, Fox. You have a diverse resume, music, arts, and politics. Can you tell me about some of the experiences in television that prepared you for producing and directing this massive historical project like “Louder Than Love?”

Sure. The experiences that I’ve had over the last 22 years have all kind of brought me to this point of making my own documentary. I got into this business 22 years ago. I was 20 years old, and I got in to it because of my love for music and my love for sports. I was at school, in college, and I just didn’t know where I wanted to go, and I found this career path. It instantly gave me incredible drive that I didn’t even know I had in me. My dad had always said to me If you find something you like, you’ll never work a day in your life. I can honestly say I’ve never worked a day in my life. I love what I do, and my love for my job has made me able to be part of some of the biggest productions in the world because of it. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but six of the last seven presidents I’ve worked on Super Bowls, on the NBA championships, I’ve worked with the Rolling Stones, I’ve worked with the Who, doing commercials for them, I’ve helped design the presentation and the stage that brought the Super Bowl to Detroit. We had an audience of 32 NFL owners in Atlanta, Georgia, and we brought our presentation down. We sold the NFL owners that chartered our place to have the Super Bowl. There’s a lot more productions that I’ve done over the last 22 years that have been all world class. It was at the 20 year mark that I realized how incredible my life had been because of this, because of my job. I was talking to one of my dear friends that I went to broadcasting school with. He got into radio, I got into television. He works for WIN in Detroit. He was able to meet and interview some of his biggest icons, and we shared that commonality through our lives. He said, “What haven’t you done?” At that point I finally realized, wow, I had done everything I said I would do.  So I think the answer to your question is the 22 years of experience led me to realize that I can do what I wanted to do originally, and I’m fortunate enough to have the ways and means to do it. Because of my love for music and because of the documentaries I knew it would take some time, so I wanted to find subject matter that would be interesting, and that subject ended up being the Grande Ballroom.

 Did you speak to Michael Moore at all?  He’s a Flint native.

You know, it’s funny because I worked with Michael for the last four or five years. He would request our crew to shoot this stuff for CNN, for HBO. I worked with him 20, 25 times over the last 20 years - always been very nice. You know what’s weird about that is that even while I was doing this production I was always hesitant to cross that line of my side project with my day job. It’s not until recently that I realized that this side project is pretty substantial, and it’s more than just a little film that’s going to come out. It’s going to have some power in it. Even in working with Michael, I never announced that “Hey, I’ve been doing this project. Would you be interested?” One time I gave one of his assistants a trailer and said if he had the time to look at it, please take a look at it. Within the last few months I’ve been contacted by him and the programmer from the Traverse City Film Festival.

They’ve got the finished work in front of them, and hopefully it will be submitted and shown in Traverse City. It wasn’t until I was really far down the path with the movie that I realized that he grew up in Flint with rock and roll and was a DJ there, and he knew all these people that I’m talking about. It probably would have been a really great interview for this project. It’s unfortunate I never really made the connection.

 Was there anyone  who inspired you during this time in life, during the network TV time?

Oh, gosh. Yeah. You know my entire adult life has been in production. These are people that I call friend. These are people who are not only my friends, but friends of my family, that know my kids. One thing you have to realize, Bo, is that when I got into production, this was the late ‘80s there were only three major networks, ABC, NBC, and CBS. Fox wasn’t even really a network at that point. Cable was coming on, but it wasn’t a 24-hour thing. It might be on for five or six hours and then it would have pay TV, a phone-in or something. When I came into this, I was young and cable was young, and so I was working for a network like MTV when they showed music videos.

Did you have a mentor?

Yes - Woody Robertson.  He became one of my nearest and dearest friends. Woody passed away recently. He had been in the business since 1963 and started with the ABC affiliate in Washington, DC.  He took me under his wings, and we were doing Lions football games back in the late ‘80s, early ‘90s. He was the director. He was not only a director for sports, but he did music videos, and broadcast television, and documentaries. He treated everyone as an equal. There wasn’t a hierarchy, of well, you’re just a PA. Everybody was involved. He’s one of many people that I was able to meet and that got me along the way. It was probably about five years ago when I worked on a documentary for Discovery that was called “Future Car,” and it was actually a pretty well received documentary. It was then I realized that a long format project was something I really wanted to do on my own, and some of the people that I worked with on that. It’s kind of wild because, like I said, I don’t feel I’ve ever worked a day in my life and yet I’ve done some of the most amazing productions. It takes moments like this, though, where I think back and think, wow, I could spend weeks telling you all the productions I was on and all the people because each one had an amazing story too. Twelve, fifteen, sixteen hours, maybe even more, a day doing these productions, you really become part of a family when you’re doing this. It’s been an amazing road, and I’m really blessed to have been a part of it. I’m grateful. It’s a labor of love instead of a 9 to 5 job.

The production community here in Detroit is rather large, but I’ve been fortunate enough where one company I worked for had an office in Vegas. I worked all over the world doing production and as I said, at a higher level. So I’ve always worked with the upper echelon of producers and production people other than cam operators and lighting directors and whatever. The common thread is that no one is in this business to fail and if you don’t come into it with a team mentality, things are not going to get done right. You have to be a people person, you have to be creative, and you have to be willing to put your time in to get the job done. I’ve been fortunate enough to work with some of the best in the business, and like I said, the people I work with are called friends too. To me, that is the one thing that I take out of all this. They’re not only just co-workers. They are people that I would like to call up and have a beer with. That’s how much I enjoy their company.

Is there an experience that stood out for you back in your time in television? Any one thing in particular that just blew you away? Like being part of a particular movie or show or documentary.

Wow. You know, this is how I’ll put that. I’ve been married for 13 years now to the point that when I come home, I barely even talk about work because I’m so excited to see my kids and my wife and stuff. My wife and I will be at a dinner party and someone will say, “Oh, what have you done?”  And any given week…Like for instance, this last week I interviewed Mitt Romney and Santorum; tomorrow I leave for Milwaukee for a basketball game. I did the Red Wings game last week. This is all stuff I’ve done in the last five days.

You know what I mean. And so I’ll start telling people about it and they’ll be like “holy shit.” The funny part about this is I’ve kept all my passes, my laminates, ticket stubs, and all this stuff. I went to school here in Southfield and I give back every once in a while. They do this thing where they’ll bring in someone who  graduated and they’ll bring me out and they’ll say, “Tony’s been in the business for 20 years,” and I don’t even say anything. I just bring out my box full of laminates, and I just dump them on the table. I’ll pull them out and I’ll go, “This is when I met President Ford, this is when I was on the field at the Super Bowl, and this is when I did a commercial for the Rolling Stones,”  - and so it’s my life - in passes and laminates. I think the one thing that sticks out for me because it’s so personal is that I met my wife there was a festival years ago called the Horn Festival which was a part of the Blues Traveler, the Black Crowes tour. I met my wife during the tour and so that changed my life. I’m happily married and I’ve two beautiful kids and a beautiful house, so that to me is the most but it isn’t glamorous or high profile.

 I was at the acceptance speech for Obama at Grant Park when he won…the first African-American president of the United States of America. I’ve been in the locker room in the World Series. I drank out of the Stanley Cup and I’ve been on the stage with the Rolling Stones. You know, I’m living’ the dream. I don’t want to make it sound like I’m bragging, but all this stuff has brought me to the point where I’m at today. If I would have tried to make a project of this nature back 20 years ago when I first started, it probably would have been a good project and fun to watch but it was all the production I’ve done and all the experiences I’ve had that have allowed me to make this movie. Although this has been a self-funded, independent project, when people see this they are going to be blow away at how beautiful it was shot, how beautiful it ended.

I’m just excited to show people because everything I’ve done to this point even has added to what I’m doing now. They were all important. But the most memorable event would be when I met my wife. That’s really changed my world.

 Love is more important than anything else.

Yeah, you know you’ve got nothing without it because I wouldn’t be able to share this with anybody, you know. My daughter’s 11 and my son’s 8. When I started doing this, I actually made a conscious effort because I saw my daughter, my son in school, you know, learning to read, learning to write, and realizing that at every point in your life you’ve got to challenge yourself. Twenty years into the business I was running out of challenges. I couldn’t have picked a worse time in the economy to make a project of this nature because nobody wanted to help fund it or help sponsor it. This was all self-funded. It was all done on my own dime, on my own time, but I challenged myself because I think that everybody, no matter where we are financially you need to challenge yourself. That in and of itself will bring about good. I saw this in my kids. I saw my son struggle with learning to read for a little bit. I saw when the light bulb when on, and he realized that, “Wow, I can do this.” So think that everybody needs to challenge themselves, even if they’ve been in the business for 10 years, 20 years because it’s important that we do that, you know. I think that’s only going to make you better.

To tackle this massive project, you must be a music lover. What music inspired you during your formative years?

Well, my memories are built around music. When I hear a song, it brings me to a point. I grew up in a big Italian family on the east side of Detroit and music was part of the day. My dad had Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Glen Miller records. He got married and had kids when he was older, so this was late ‘60s. My dad wasn’t a hippie; he was old school - World War II, Dean Martin, and that kind of stuff. My uncles all played accordion or piano or whatever, and whenever the family got together there was always music. I remember when my brother put on a Beatles album, and I’d never heard anything like this was blown away by it. I was only six years old. What really blew me was the Rolling Stones. Because for me the Beatles were great but the Stones were grittier and dirtier, and there was something about that I liked. The Rolling Stones turned me on to Aerosmith; who turned me on to Ted Nugent who turned me on to Zeppelin - then going backwards and listening to Chuck Barry and some of the blues that the Stones had done. It was just amazing. I can remember being down in the basement with my cousins and I can picture the needle going on the record - We Sold Our Souls for Rock and Roll was playing. The first time I heard Black Sabbath I almost shit my pants because I’d never heard music this heavy.

As a music lover when you find that band that you’re into, you start searching out. “Well, who influenced them?” There’s got to be some point where it originated. As I started doing that, all signs started pointing towards Detroit, you know, that Grande era with heavier rock and roll. It was a product of  Motown - that can’t be denied, a huge influence here in Detroit. There was this big influence of rock and roll that was going on that had a groove to it, you know Mitch Ryder. Maybe that’s the beginning of it all or Jack Scott, if you want to go back a little but farther.  

Oh, yeah, Jack Scott’s great

It seemed like the Grande gave people a place to do their own thing, to play their own music. I think up until that point there were a lot of people just being cover bands, doing the Rolling Stones, doing the Beatles, and whatever was coming down the pipe. I think the Grande inspired a lot of people. Russ Gibb was incredible - so open to whatever acts were happening in this time was , and it was a very tumultuous time, the strife, the riots. What really blows me away is that whenever I ask people about the Grande, I can see their eyes well up and they go back to this place in Detroit. We’re talking riots, Vietnam - nothing good yet there was this moment of happiness, this sense that it was the best time of their lives and it was all associated with music and the culture around it.

So the Grande let you do this stuff. You can have long hair; you can go to listen to this music. It was like, “Wow, there’s other people like me.”  There’s people in Flint, Traverse City, Holly  and wherever. It wasn’t just in Detroit. It was an urban Michigan thing that was happening.

Yeah, it was a time when great music, new music like the MC5. They played my senior party in high school in 1970. There was great music all over the place. The Michigan bands that played the Grande played Daniel’s Den, for instance. There were great venues all over the state. Kids had a chance to listen to music in a way that hasn’t been that readily accessible since.  I wonder why the Grande ascended to the top.

You know, I don’t think it was actually a climb to the top. I think that from what I’m seeing, it was the first of many. I think it was because it was Detroit. It was Detroit-based. I think that the other clubs you’re talking about all had their own little place. I think that what happened for the Grande, was, first of all, the one thing that really sticks out for the Grande was built was a ballroom in the ‘20s, so the sound and size of the place, from the way I understand it and the tapes that I’ve heard, it was  made for just a live, big band. I’ve met people much smarter than me think that the sound inside there was kind of like being inside of a Stradivarius or a really well-made guitar. It was acoustically perfect.

So if you were a good band in the Grande, you sounded great. If you were a great band inside the Grande, you sounded incredible. Because of that, it motivated you. Because this was the beginning of electrification, you know, a lot of these places you’re talking about were kind of clubs in their own right, you know. I can see that being a big thing as far as the sound systems back in the day where, you know, it was probably hit or miss, what you were coming up against. If you had a place that was acoustically perfect and sounded good, you know, I think that helped it quite a bit. I think the fact was that Russ was allowing bands to be so free. You know, you didn’t really book any cover bands there. They were looking for new acts that were playing their own music. I mean they didn’t mind if you did a cover song, but if you’re doing a cover song, you better do it in your own style. You know what I mean. You hear Motor City Burning from MC5, that’s Johnny Lee Humbert, too. I don’t know – two different songs as far as I’m concerned - both great; both incredible. The other clubs that you’re talking about I think are somewhat obscure today.

Did you ever feel like giving up, with all the people not invested?

There was no chance of giving up when I went into this project. I gave myself three to five years. I finished it in four, so I was on my time schedule. This was something that was going to get done, and I was going to do it. Now whether it’s well received, now that’s a whole different story. I was able to finish it. The one thing I’m very proud of is that it ended up being on my own terms. There were moments during this time when I thought that I needed money to do this, I needed grants; I needed sponsorships. When the doors were closed on those things, it was never a frustrating moment. It was more of a realization that this needs to be done, and it’s going to be done by me. It’s not supposed to be done by anybody else. There’s no supposed to be any corporate sponsorship for this. There isn’t supposed to be a grant that’s going to come down from heaven or a bag of money that I’m going to find on the street. This is just going to get done on my own terms.

I spent 45 minutes on a bus with BB King and talked to him about music and about Detroit. I spent almost an hour with Roger Daltrey backstage talking about music and about Detroit. I spent time with Alice Cooper and Ted Nugent talking about this. I was blown away that they accepted my interview but then I was even more blown away when most of them said, “We’ll give you 10 minutes; we’ll give you 15 minutes.”  I would look down at my watch, kind of off to the side and thought, “Holy shit. I’ve been here 45 minutes.” These people really wanted to talk to me about it. I’m almost to a fault honest about the project. You know, this isn’t sold to MTV, I don’t have the escrow release form while I was making it. They heard about the movie, they saw the passion that I put into the trailer, and they realized that the Grande meant enough in their lives that they were going to give me time out of their lives to talk about it. I was never discouraged.

Your passion is clear, and maybe that’s what turned on all these artists, that you could be so committed to your craft

The thing I realized through doing this was that, again, this came down from 20 years of being in the business is that I know what it takes to get these things done. I’m very meticulous when it comes to production, and I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. I know when people are touring, you have your couple of minutes of when you can do this, and so in order to get this job done right you have to talk the talk and speak the speak. If you’re not passionate about it, you know, just like any other human, you can sense fear and realize that “Maybe this guy really doesn’t want this interview.” That’s all I had to sell was the passion for this project, and so it became a lot easier once I had a trailer that I could show people because in this day and age, much like you contacting me, it doesn’t take much to get in contact with anybody today. You’re four clicks away on the computer, you know, from getting pretty much anybody, you know, their email address or their cell phone number and being able to talk to them for five to ten minutes. It’s just a matter of what are you going to do with that five or ten minutes? Is it going to be time wasted on their end, or are they going to want to talk?

Did you do cold calls?

No. I made sure that it was defined as far as what the process was, and that I’m an independent producer of a film and I’ve got a project and here is my storyline. Everything was done top-notch, professional. Because of the Internet, because of the computer and cell phones, everybody has their own printing press. So I’m finding today that some bloggers have more power than columnists from the New York Times because of the impact that they have, so you can’t take for granted what someone is going to do or say. I was going to do this project. In my opinion, John Sinclair, Russ Gibb, Roger Daltrey, Wayne Kramer, any of these individuals could have their own story told about them that would be phenomenal in its own right. 

Tony, how are you preparing yourself for the premier of Louder Than Love?

I can see myself inside the theater. It’s like not even looking at the screen, just looking at the people, at the audience and seeing their reactions because I’ve watched this movie like 400 times already. I just wanted to see what people’s reaction to it is. I’m very excited about this film.

I think they’ll freak out and love it. It just brings us back to a time when things were a little bit different and music mattered, and there was a civil liberties movement. There were some freedoms then that we don’t have now. It really resonates with me. How have people reacted to your project – were they supportive?

Yes, very supportive, though some folks were miffed. They were like, “Who do you think you are to do this? You aren’t even old enough to go to the Grande. I thought, “Really, are you old enough to go there?” It’s kind of like saying, you know, to not have a story about anything in history. I mean, why would you not want to tell a story like this. Because I wasn’t part of it doesn’t mean I can’t tell the story. That’s not even a good reason at all. I mean Ken Burns spent his career doing these incredible documentaries about stuff that I’m dying to know about. You don’t have anybody from the Civil War to talk about it. So when people are saying, “You didn’t go there, you didn’t know or anything.” “You’re right. I didn’t know, but I’m willing to find out, and I’m going to try to find out the best that I can. I’m going to tell, in my opinion, the best story I can. If you don’t like it, this gives other people an opportunity to go make their own movie.

This is such a massive project. It’s historical. It just clicks for me in every which way because I’m a music lover, and some of the best music in the world was there as you know. Did you have any trouble getting footage for the film, you know, footage of the period, time?

In the late 60s, early ‘70s, they used movie cameras, you know those big 8 mm and 16 mm cameras,  it was an event just to take one out. So that was a bit of a challenge. It was amazing once things started rolling and people started realizing what I was doing – it’s the beauty of the internet. I had great folks from the media support me with this project. I have a Facebook page that got a lot of people interested in the film and they started contacting me. “Hey, I’ve got this footage, I’ve got these pictures, hey I know so-and-so.” Things started coming together because of it. The footage I have of the Who at the Grande is incredible. They performed “Tommy”, it’s only three minutes but it has never been seen before.

 Tom Wright, the Who’s manager, ended up as the manager of the Grande! He actually recorded the original Tommy concert. He gave me a cassette of Pete Townsend explaining what they were going to hear. You know, nobody knew what Tommy was about. In the movie you hear Pete Townsend explaining what this is about. To me it’s chilling because nowadays we know what it’s about but you don’t know…this was like - what the hell is a rock opera? Today we consider almost any form of music to have something conceptual – but back then it was unheard of, especially from a band like the Who that was a three-minute pop-song kind of band that was doing great music but nothing in a long format conceptual thing. It was the first time that’s seen.

Did you use other media to capture the essence of the Grande?

 I have probably 500 archival photos, black and white, color pictures of bands like the MC5, Iron Butterfly, Led Zeppelin, Nugent, Chuck Berry, and Fleetwood Mac with Peter Green. One night John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers were playing, Cream was playing at Olympia and after the show Clapton came over and played with the Bluesbreakers - we have photos of that. I’ve got a lot of great stuff from the MC5. The daughter of the promoter and organizer for Goose Lake gave me a lot of great pictures. We worked out a licensing deal where she allowed me to use photos for the film.  A lot of that stuff has never been seen. I think people are really going to be blown away by the amount of research I’ve done, the songs that are involved with it, the licensed songs I got. I could have gone a hundred different ways. When I originally sat down with this it was a trade story -  so it’s all Detroit bands, not only MC5 but SRC, Savage Grace, Jagged Edge, as well as lesser known bands. Dick Wagner recorded a new song with Jimmy McCarty that we used for the final credits of the movie. He hadn’t written or recorded a song an original song in almost seven or eight years and he gave it to me!

Did you have much help in putting it all together?

One of the things I do want everyone to know is that as much as I’ve done for this project, I’m not an army of one. The ending was all done by Karl Rausch. He and I worked together on this project from day one. He saw my vision and I told him how I wanted some things, but he brought to life. I’ve been in production long enough where I shot most of the interviews but I had friends in the business that came out and shot some of them. I had one of my dear friends at Oakland University, Dr. Jason Schmidt do the interviews, the actual eye camera interviews while I was worried about the technical side of things, the cameras, the lighting, and things like that. I didn’t want to be overwhelmed by trying to come in with a camera and do everything myself. I knew enough because of my production background to bring in a nice-size crew for all this stuff. So inasmuch as it was my passion, other people in the production community believed in me enough to take time out of their lives. I was very straightforward. Hey, I  have no budget for this, but would you like to go meet Flash, or would you like to go meet Slash, or would you like to go meet Ted Nugent, and so that was a little carrot. I was very straightforward with people. Like I don’t know where this project is going to go, but if you’d help me out, I’d really appreciate it. I was definitely a labor of love on my own, but I had other people.

 Where will you be showing Louder than Love?

These are the dates that we have lined up so far: Thursday April 5th at the Detroit Art and Film Theater here in Detroit; Monday April 9th at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor, part of Martin Van Dyke’s movie series. I’ve been accepted to do the Chicago Film Festival which is April 12-15 and then it was accepted to the Nation Film Festival on April 19-26 and the Nashville Film Festival April 21^st. I’ve been contacted by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and we’re looking at a screening date there at the beginning of May. There are some strong possibilities of the Traverse City one and a Mill Valley one in San Francisco as well as I just got sent out for Sidney’s film festival in San Francisco. So there are quite a few…once the first one gets out there, the other festivals kind of look at what’s going on. So I’m kind of setting myself up for film festivals that are music and documentary related so that I can get the audience. Different film festivals have different themes, and so you can’t just go to all the film festivals. There are some that are more for narrative; there are some that are for animation; there are some that are foreign film documentaries. There are literally thousands of festivals nowadays. People have really embraced independent film-making and taken it to a different level, so I’m really overwhelmed by the choices I have. Hopefully once the word gets out, it will kind of snowball and that’s what I’m anticipating.

What I’ve done in the last couple of years is appreciate that you can challenge yourself to do anything you want, no matter where you’re at in life. I honestly believe that

I believe it too. It was so nice talking to you. You’re so gracious.

When are we going to start this interview?

Yeah, I know. It’s just been way too much fun.

Peace

Bo White