Styx - Live Winterland, San Francisco 1978 - Part 1
Styx - Live Winterland, San Francisco 1978 - Part 2
It’s a strange world that we live in and in the world of Styx it was even weirder. AOR Magazine managed to speak with three of the band for this feature, and found it heart-warming to wallow in the respect and admiration all of them have for each other’s contributions to their music, even after many years of acrimony.
That’s not to say all is sweetness and light in the Styx camp but what is interesting is that, in the cold light of day, they all acknowledge that the sum of their parts made a truly great noise; a band where everyone played a positive part. Yes, it’s hard to believe that a band with so much success can so quickly become so unglued.
Former Styx front man Dennis DeYoung is on the line. Sounding larger than life and brandishing a supersonic fanfaronade of enthusiasm, he is keen to set some records straight…
“You see, the thing about Styx was that we were a very good-humoured band,” he reveals, much to our amazement. “And another misconception is that we went at each other hammer and tongs. I don’t even think there was any underlying anger or any passive-aggressive feelings. I really don’t believe that. If that were the case, then those with the biggest fists would be the only survivors. The original premise was to get together and create something collectively, so when I hear nonsensical accusations about fighting each other it doesn’t make sense. Sure, there were creative differences, but how can there not be? That fact that rock bands stay together for as long as they do is a miracle.”
James ‘JY’ Young is also philosophical about those years. “It’s said that great works of art come from creative tension, conflict or troubled times. The fact that Dennis, Tommy and I were headed in different directions worked well, leading to songs of an incredibly high standard. In hindsight, the spirit of that thing worked, and there was a magic about that collective of people at that point in our lives.”
For now, however, let’s ignore the finger-pointing and get stuck into a little prehistory – a recapitulation, if you will, of the early (but not necessarily dark) days.
You can trace the formation of Styx back to the early 1960s and its rhythm section, brothers Chuck (bass) and John (drums, who sadly died in 1996) Panozzo, two mad-keen music fans from the Chicago suburbs who started a garage band called The Tradewinds. With the addition of keyboardist Dennis DeYoung, they subsequently switched moniker to the more streamlined TW4, and later that decade added guitarists John Curulewski and James ‘JY’ Young.
Building a reputation as a hot live band, they signed to local Chicago label, Wooden Nickel Records, partly owned by renowned media mogul and concert promoter Jerry Weintraub. The label insisted on a new name and, following exhaustive discussion, they refashioned themselves as Styx, chosen only because none of them hated it.
In total they recorded four albums for Wooden Nickel, all broadly progressive rock with elements of hard rock and a few sappy ballads thrown in for good measure. Indeed, as a precursor to later recordings, 1973’s The Serpent Is Rising was thought to be vaguely conceptual, hinting at a style they would bring fully into focus further down the line. Incredibly, however, two years after its original release in 1973, the album Styx II featured a track titled Lady, which emerged as a regional and then national hit single, reaching the dizzy heights of No.6 on the Billboard chart.
It was this success after years of struggle that finally prompted the band to look for a more influential record label. Wooden Nickel was awash with problems; not least of all restrictive studio budgets and, perhaps most damning, a management clause in the contract. Despite an attempt by RCA (Wooden Nickel’s distribution company) to then secure the band’s signature, it was growing independent label A&M that eventually signed them. It was also A&M who introduced them to their new manager, Derek Sutton, an Englishman who had previously worked with a number of quality acts, including Robin Trower.
With a new label, money and freedom they set about recording Equinox, an album that would herald a more focussed and perhaps more commercial approach. Issued in 1975, and engineered by long term studio cohort Barry Mraz, the album was heralded as a fine statement of intent. It was also housed in one of the most striking album sleeves of the period: a flaming block of ice set in a surreal beach scene underneath an angry green sky.
This unique image somehow identified a few key elements of the emerging Styx sound, suggesting JY’s aspirations as a hard rocker (which later became his brand identity), ably demonstrated by the taut guitar riff of Midnight Ride, along with Dennis DeYoung’s adventurous prog rock ambitions, best exemplified by Suite Madame Blue and Lonely Child, a deceptive combination of ballad and brawn. To cap it all, the band scored another Top 30 US hit with Lorelei. But while they had everything to play for and nothing to lose, they suffered a setback when guitarist John Curulewski (who sadly passed away from a brain aneurysm in 1988) left the band almost immediately after the recording sessions, on the eve of an impending tour.
The hunt was on to find a suitable replacement; not an easy job considering the demanding skill set required, and the fact that a tour was looming. Fortunately, Styx soon found their man in Tommy Shaw, a seasoned but previously unknown guitarist/songwriter who had played in a local Chicago band with the unlikely handle of MSFunk. Although they recognised Tommy as a great guitarist/ vocalist and a dynamic performer, they weren’t aware of his song writing ability. But once this became apparent, the rest of the band felt like they had won the lottery.
Debuting on 1976’s wonderfully crafted Crystal Ball album, Tommy’s impact was felt immediately, having penned the title track and contributed to several other key moments. The album remains one of Styx’s most impressive statements, picking up the pomp rock baton from Equinox and crafting an even more concise and flamboyant opus.
At the heart of the process was their ability to fuse traditional British progressive rock with all-singing, all-dancing American razzle-dazzle. Again, JY was let loose, with the taut, straight-to-the-point shock rock of Nu Shooz, while Clair de Lune/Ballerina showcased Dennis DeYoung’s burgeoning theatricality and was, for many, the high water mark of the album. Tommy Shaw, meanwhile, scored a big coup: not only did he co-write and sing lead vocal on Mademoiselle, the album’s lead single, but it also became the album’s only hit, cementing his position in Styx.
Behind the scenes, however, Dennis DeYoung was – even at this early juncture – feeling the pressures of being part of an in-demand rock band. He began to feel that his life – and to a degree his destiny – was being ruled by Styx, and not the other way around. This wave of despondency would last for some time, but would also go on to fuel some of his, and the band’s, greatest work, their next two albums, starting with 1977’s The Grand Illusion.
“Effectively, I think the band really started to coalesce with the Equinox album,” confides Dennis. “Then, when Tommy came in, it really started to get interesting The Grand Illusion was just another step that found favour in a much bigger way.”
Dennis sings us some lyrics from the title track: “‘Someday soon we’ll stop to ponder what on Earth’s this spell we’re under/We made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are.’ That is the theme that goes throughout my writing.” And it wasn’t just Dennis who was feeling a sense of unease with new found fame and wealth.
Tommy Shaw: “Much of The Grand Illusion album was to do with the disillusionment of finding out that the things we had all dreamed about weren’t quite what they were cut out to be.”
Recorded once again in Chicago at Paragon Studios, with Barry Mraz engineering, The Grand Illusion was a masterpiece of pomposity. It was, to that point, the culmination of Styx’s entire career, a record shoe-horned full of songs that have stood the test of time, propelling the band into the superstar league. Indeed, to this day fans feverishly debate whether The Grand Illusion or Pieces Of Eight is the group’s superior release, a topic dividing them into roughly equal constituencies. From: https://www.loudersound.com/features/styx-the-press-slaughtered-us-i-was-convinced-prog-rock-was-dead
That’s not to say all is sweetness and light in the Styx camp but what is interesting is that, in the cold light of day, they all acknowledge that the sum of their parts made a truly great noise; a band where everyone played a positive part. Yes, it’s hard to believe that a band with so much success can so quickly become so unglued.
Former Styx front man Dennis DeYoung is on the line. Sounding larger than life and brandishing a supersonic fanfaronade of enthusiasm, he is keen to set some records straight…
“You see, the thing about Styx was that we were a very good-humoured band,” he reveals, much to our amazement. “And another misconception is that we went at each other hammer and tongs. I don’t even think there was any underlying anger or any passive-aggressive feelings. I really don’t believe that. If that were the case, then those with the biggest fists would be the only survivors. The original premise was to get together and create something collectively, so when I hear nonsensical accusations about fighting each other it doesn’t make sense. Sure, there were creative differences, but how can there not be? That fact that rock bands stay together for as long as they do is a miracle.”
James ‘JY’ Young is also philosophical about those years. “It’s said that great works of art come from creative tension, conflict or troubled times. The fact that Dennis, Tommy and I were headed in different directions worked well, leading to songs of an incredibly high standard. In hindsight, the spirit of that thing worked, and there was a magic about that collective of people at that point in our lives.”
For now, however, let’s ignore the finger-pointing and get stuck into a little prehistory – a recapitulation, if you will, of the early (but not necessarily dark) days.
You can trace the formation of Styx back to the early 1960s and its rhythm section, brothers Chuck (bass) and John (drums, who sadly died in 1996) Panozzo, two mad-keen music fans from the Chicago suburbs who started a garage band called The Tradewinds. With the addition of keyboardist Dennis DeYoung, they subsequently switched moniker to the more streamlined TW4, and later that decade added guitarists John Curulewski and James ‘JY’ Young.
Building a reputation as a hot live band, they signed to local Chicago label, Wooden Nickel Records, partly owned by renowned media mogul and concert promoter Jerry Weintraub. The label insisted on a new name and, following exhaustive discussion, they refashioned themselves as Styx, chosen only because none of them hated it.
In total they recorded four albums for Wooden Nickel, all broadly progressive rock with elements of hard rock and a few sappy ballads thrown in for good measure. Indeed, as a precursor to later recordings, 1973’s The Serpent Is Rising was thought to be vaguely conceptual, hinting at a style they would bring fully into focus further down the line. Incredibly, however, two years after its original release in 1973, the album Styx II featured a track titled Lady, which emerged as a regional and then national hit single, reaching the dizzy heights of No.6 on the Billboard chart.
It was this success after years of struggle that finally prompted the band to look for a more influential record label. Wooden Nickel was awash with problems; not least of all restrictive studio budgets and, perhaps most damning, a management clause in the contract. Despite an attempt by RCA (Wooden Nickel’s distribution company) to then secure the band’s signature, it was growing independent label A&M that eventually signed them. It was also A&M who introduced them to their new manager, Derek Sutton, an Englishman who had previously worked with a number of quality acts, including Robin Trower.
With a new label, money and freedom they set about recording Equinox, an album that would herald a more focussed and perhaps more commercial approach. Issued in 1975, and engineered by long term studio cohort Barry Mraz, the album was heralded as a fine statement of intent. It was also housed in one of the most striking album sleeves of the period: a flaming block of ice set in a surreal beach scene underneath an angry green sky.
This unique image somehow identified a few key elements of the emerging Styx sound, suggesting JY’s aspirations as a hard rocker (which later became his brand identity), ably demonstrated by the taut guitar riff of Midnight Ride, along with Dennis DeYoung’s adventurous prog rock ambitions, best exemplified by Suite Madame Blue and Lonely Child, a deceptive combination of ballad and brawn. To cap it all, the band scored another Top 30 US hit with Lorelei. But while they had everything to play for and nothing to lose, they suffered a setback when guitarist John Curulewski (who sadly passed away from a brain aneurysm in 1988) left the band almost immediately after the recording sessions, on the eve of an impending tour.
The hunt was on to find a suitable replacement; not an easy job considering the demanding skill set required, and the fact that a tour was looming. Fortunately, Styx soon found their man in Tommy Shaw, a seasoned but previously unknown guitarist/songwriter who had played in a local Chicago band with the unlikely handle of MSFunk. Although they recognised Tommy as a great guitarist/ vocalist and a dynamic performer, they weren’t aware of his song writing ability. But once this became apparent, the rest of the band felt like they had won the lottery.
Debuting on 1976’s wonderfully crafted Crystal Ball album, Tommy’s impact was felt immediately, having penned the title track and contributed to several other key moments. The album remains one of Styx’s most impressive statements, picking up the pomp rock baton from Equinox and crafting an even more concise and flamboyant opus.
At the heart of the process was their ability to fuse traditional British progressive rock with all-singing, all-dancing American razzle-dazzle. Again, JY was let loose, with the taut, straight-to-the-point shock rock of Nu Shooz, while Clair de Lune/Ballerina showcased Dennis DeYoung’s burgeoning theatricality and was, for many, the high water mark of the album. Tommy Shaw, meanwhile, scored a big coup: not only did he co-write and sing lead vocal on Mademoiselle, the album’s lead single, but it also became the album’s only hit, cementing his position in Styx.
Behind the scenes, however, Dennis DeYoung was – even at this early juncture – feeling the pressures of being part of an in-demand rock band. He began to feel that his life – and to a degree his destiny – was being ruled by Styx, and not the other way around. This wave of despondency would last for some time, but would also go on to fuel some of his, and the band’s, greatest work, their next two albums, starting with 1977’s The Grand Illusion.
“Effectively, I think the band really started to coalesce with the Equinox album,” confides Dennis. “Then, when Tommy came in, it really started to get interesting The Grand Illusion was just another step that found favour in a much bigger way.”
Dennis sings us some lyrics from the title track: “‘Someday soon we’ll stop to ponder what on Earth’s this spell we’re under/We made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are.’ That is the theme that goes throughout my writing.” And it wasn’t just Dennis who was feeling a sense of unease with new found fame and wealth.
Tommy Shaw: “Much of The Grand Illusion album was to do with the disillusionment of finding out that the things we had all dreamed about weren’t quite what they were cut out to be.”
Recorded once again in Chicago at Paragon Studios, with Barry Mraz engineering, The Grand Illusion was a masterpiece of pomposity. It was, to that point, the culmination of Styx’s entire career, a record shoe-horned full of songs that have stood the test of time, propelling the band into the superstar league. Indeed, to this day fans feverishly debate whether The Grand Illusion or Pieces Of Eight is the group’s superior release, a topic dividing them into roughly equal constituencies. From: https://www.loudersound.com/features/styx-the-press-slaughtered-us-i-was-convinced-prog-rock-was-dead
