Nina Simone - Live Holland 1965

 Part 1

 

Part 2

#Nina Simone #folk #gospel #blues #jazz #R&B #soul #1950s #1960s #live music video

“My skin is black,” the first woman’s story begins, “my arms are long.” And, to a slow and steady beat, “my hair is woolly, my back is strong.” Singing in a club in Holland, in 1965, Nina Simone introduced a song she had written about what she called “four Negro women” to a young, homogeneously white, and transfixed crowd. “And one of the women’s hair,” she instructed, brushing her hand lightly across her own woolly Afro, “is like mine.” Every performance of “Four Women” caught on film (as here) or disk is different. Sometimes Simone coolly chants the first three women’s parts—the effect is of resigned weariness—and at other times, as on this particular night, she gives each woman an individual, sharply dramatized voice. All four have names. Aunt Sarah is old, and her strong back has allowed her only “to take the pain inflicted again and again.” Sephronia’s yellow skin and long hair are the result of her rich white father having raped her mother—“Between two worlds I do belong”—and Sweet Thing, a prostitute, has tan skin and a smiling bravado that seduced at least some of the eager Dutch listeners into the mistake of smiling, too. And then Simone hit them with the last and most resolutely up to date of the women, improbably named Peaches. “My skin is brown,” she growled ferociously, “my manner is tough. I’ll kill the first mother I see. ’Cause my life has been rough.” (One has to wonder what the Dutch made of killing that “mother.”) If Simone’s song suggests a history of black women in America, it is also a history of long-suppressed and finally uncontainable anger.
A lot of black women have been openly angry these days over a new movie about Simone’s life, and it hasn’t even been released. The issue is color, and what it meant to Simone to be not only categorically African-American but specifically African in her features and her very dark skin. Is it possible to separate Simone’s physical characteristics, and what they cost her in this country, from the woman she became? Can she be played by an actress with less distinctively African features, or a lighter skin tone? Should she be played by such an actress? The casting of Zoe Saldana, a movie star of Dominican descent and a light-skinned beauty along European lines, has caused these questions—rarely phrased as questions—to dog the production of “Nina,” from the moment Saldana’s casting was announced to the completed film’s début, at Cannes, in May, at a screening confined to possible distributors. No reviewers have seen it. The film’s director, Cynthia Mort, has been stalwart in her defense of Saldana’s rightness for the role, citing not only the obvious relevance of acting skills but Simone’s inclusion of a range of colors among her own “Four Women”—which is a fair point. None of the women in Simone’s most personal and searing song escape the damage and degradation accorded to their race.
Ironically, “Four Women” was charged with being insulting to black women and was banned on a couple of radio stations in New York and Philadelphia soon after the recording was released, in 1966. The ban was lifted, however, when it produced more outrage than the song. Simone’s husband, Andrew Stroud, who was also her manager, worried about the dangers that the controversy might have for her career, although this was hardly a new problem. Simone had been singing out loud and clear about civil rights since 1963—well after the heroic stand of figures like Harry Belafonte and Sammy Davis, Jr., but still at a time when many black performers felt trapped between the rules of commercial success and the increasing pressure for racial confrontation. At Motown, in the early sixties, the wildly popular performers of a stream of crossover hits became models of black achievement but had virtually no contact with the movement at all.
Simone herself had been hesitant at first. Known for her sophisticated pianism, her imperious attitude, and her velvety rendition of “I Loves You, Porgy” (which, like Billie Holiday before her, she sang without the demeaningly ungrammatical “s” on “loves”), she had arrived in New York in late 1958, establishing her reputation not in Harlem but in the clubs of hip and relatively interracial Greenwich Village. Her repertoire of jazz and folk and show tunes, often played with a classical touch, made her impossible to classify. In these early years, she performed African songs but also Hebrew songs, and wove a Bach fugue through a rapid-fire version of “Love Me or Leave Me.” She tossed off the thirties bauble “My Baby Just Cares for Me” with airy insouciance, and wrung the heart out of the lullaby “Brown Baby”—newly written by Oscar Brown, Jr., about a family’s hopes for a child born into a better racial order—erupting in a hair-raising wail on the word “freedom,” as though registering all the pain over all the years during which it was denied. For a while, “Brown Baby” was as close to a protest song as Simone got. She believed it was enough.
And then her friend Lorraine Hansberry set her straight. It speaks to Simone’s intelligence and restless force that, in her twenties, she attracted some of African-American culture’s finest minds. Both Langston Hughes and James Baldwin elected themselves mentors: Simone, appearing on the scene just as Holiday died, seemed to evoke their most exuberant hopes and most protective instincts. But Hansberry offered her a special bond. A young woman also dealing with a startling early success—Hansberry was twenty-eight when “A Raisin in the Sun” won the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award, in 1959—she had a strongly cultivated black pride and a pedagogical bent. “We never talked about men or clothes,” Simone wrote in her memoir, decades later. “It was always Marx, Lenin and revolution—real girls’ talk.” A milestone in Simone’s career was a solo concert at Carnegie Hall—a happy chance to show off her pianism—on April 12, 1963, which happened also to be the day that Martin Luther King, Jr., was arrested with other protesters in Birmingham, Alabama, and locked up in the local jail. The discrepancy between the events was pointed out by Hansberry, who telephoned Simone after the concert, although not to offer praise.
Two months later, Simone played a benefit for the N.A.A.C.P. In early August, she sang “Brown Baby” before a crowd gathered in the football stadium of a black college outside Birmingham—the first integrated concert ever given in the area—while guards with guns and dogs prowled the field. But Hansberry only started a process that events in America quickly accelerated. Simone watched the March on Washington, later that August, on television, while she was preparing for a club date. She was still rehearsing when, on September 15th, news came of the bombing of Birmingham’s Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, killing four young African-American girls who had just got out of Bible class. Simone’s first impulsive act, she recalled, was to try to make a zip gun with tools from her garage. “I had it in my mind to go out and kill someone,” she wrote. “I didn’t yet know who, but someone I could identify as being in the way of my people.”
This urge to violence was not a wholly aberrant impulse but something that had been brewing on a national scale, however tamped down by cooler heads and political pragmatists. At the Washington march, John Lewis, then a leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, was forced to cut the word “revolution” from his speech and to omit the threat that, absent immediate progress, the marchers would go through the South “the way Sherman did” and “burn Jim Crow to the ground.” James Baldwin, in a televised discussion after the bombing, noted that, throughout American history, “the only time that nonviolence has been admired is when the Negroes practice it.” But the center held. Simone’s husband, a smart businessman, told her to forget the gun and put her rage into her music.
It took her an hour to write “Mississippi Goddam.” A freewheeling cri de coeur based on the place names of oppression, the song has a jaunty tune that makes an ironic contrast with words—“Alabama’s got me so upset, Tennessee made me lose my rest”—that arose from injustices so familiar they hardly needed to be stated: “And everybody knows about Mississippi, goddam!” Still, Simone spelled them out. She mocked stereotypical insults (“Too damn lazy!”), government promises (“Desegregation / Mass participation”), and, above all, the continuing admonition of public leaders to “Go slow,” a line that prompted her backup musicians to call out repeatedly, as punctuation, “Too slow!” It wasn’t “We Shall Overcome” or “Blowin’ in the Wind”: Simone had little feeling for the Biblically inflected uplift that defined the anthems of the era. It’s a song about a movement nearly out of patience by a woman who never had very much to begin with, and who had little hope for the American future: “Oh but this whole country is full of lies,” she sang. “You’re all gonna die and die like flies.”
She introduced the song in a set at the Village Gate a few days later. And she sang it at a very different concert at Carnegie Hall, in March, 1964—brazenly flinging “You’re all gonna die” at a mostly white audience—along with other protest songs she had taken a hand in writing, including the defiantly jazzy ditty “Old Jim Crow.” She also performed a quietly haunting song titled “Images,” about a black woman’s inability to see her own beauty (“She thinks her brown body has no glory”)—a wistful predecessor to “Four Women” that she had composed to words by the Harlem Renaissance poet Waring Cuney. At the time, Simone herself was still wearing her hair in a harshly straightened fifties-style bob—sometimes the small personal freedoms are harder to speak up for than the larger political ones—and, clearly, it wasn’t time yet for such specifically female injuries to take their place in the racial picture. “Mississippi Goddam” was the song of the moment: bold and urgent and easy to sing, it was adopted by embattled protesters in the cursed state itself just months after Simone’s concert, during what they called the Mississippi Summer Project, or Freedom Summer, and what President Johnson called “the summer of our discontent.”
There was no looking back by the time she performed the song outside Montgomery, Alabama, in March, 1965, when some three thousand marchers were making their way along the fifty-four-mile route from Selma; two weeks earlier, protesters making the same attempt had been driven back by state troopers with clubs, whips, and tear gas. The triumphant concert, on the fourth night of the march, was organized by the indefatigable Belafonte, at the request of King, and took place on a makeshift stage built atop stacks of empty coffins lent by local funeral homes, and in front of an audience that had swelled with twenty-five thousand additional people, drawn either by the cause or by a lineup of stars that ranged from Tony Bennett and Johnny Mathis to Joan Baez. Simone, accompanied only by her longtime guitarist, Al Schackman, drew cheers on the interpolated line “Selma made me lose my rest.” In the course of events that night, she was introduced to King, and Schackman remembered that she stuck her hand out and warned him, “I’m not nonviolent!” It was only when King replied, gently, “Not to worry, sister,” that she calmed down.
Simone’s explosiveness was well known. In concert, she was quick to call out anyone she noticed talking, to stop and glare or hurl a few insults or even leave the stage. Yet her performances, richly improvised, were also confidingly intimate—she needed the connection with her audience—and often riveting. Even in her best years, Simone never put many records on the charts, but people flocked to her shows. In 1966, the critic for the Philadelphia Tribune, an African-American newspaper, explained that to hear Simone sing “is to be brought into abrasive contact with the black heart and to feel the power and beauty which for centuries have beat there.” She was proclaimed the voice of the movement not by Martin Luther King but by Stokely Carmichael and H. Rap Brown, whose Black Power philosophy answered to her own experience and inclinations. As the sixties progressed, the feelings she displayed—pain, lacerating anger, the desire to burn down whole cities in revenge—made her seem at times emotionally disturbed and at other times simply the most honest black woman in America.  From: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/08/11/raised-voice

Buddy Miles - Them Changes

 #Buddy Miles #soul #R&B #funk #classic rock #funk rock #psychedelic soul #1960s #1970s #ex-Electric Flag

Best known as the drummer in Jimi Hendrix's Band of Gypsys, Buddy Miles also had a lengthy solo career that drew from rock, blues, soul, and funk in varying combinations. Born George Miles in Omaha, Nebraska, on September 5, 1947, he started playing the drums at age nine, and joined his father's jazz band the Bebops at a mere 12 years old. As a teenager, he went on to play with several jazz and R&B outfits, most prominently backing vocal groups like Ruby & the Romantics, the Ink Spots, and the Delfonics. In 1966, he joined Wilson Pickett's touring revue, where he was spotted by blues-rock guitarist Mike Bloomfield. Bloomfield had left the Paul Butterfield Blues Band earlier in 1967 and was putting together a new group, the Electric Flag, which was slated to be an ambitious fusion of rock, soul, blues, psychedelia, and jazz. Bloomfield invited Miles to join, and the band made its debut at the Monterey Pop Festival; unfortunately, the original lineup splintered in 1968. With founder Bloomfield gone, Miles briefly took over leadership of the band on its second studio album, which failed to reignite the public's interest.
With the Electric Flag's horn section in tow, Miles split to form his own group, the similarly eclectic Buddy Miles Express. Signed to Mercury, the group issued its debut album, Expressway to Your Skull, in 1968, with Miles' fellow Monterey Pop alum Jimi Hendrix in the producer's chair. In turn, Miles played on Hendrix's Electric Ladyland album, and later took part in an all-star jam session that resulted in Muddy Waters' Fathers and Sons album. Hendrix also produced the Miles Express' follow-up, 1969's Electric Church, and disbanded his backing band the Experience later that year; shortly afterward, Hendrix, Miles, and bassist Billy Cox formed Band of Gypsys, one of the first all-Black rock bands. Bluesier and funkier than Hendrix's previous work, Band of Gypsys didn't last long in its original incarnation; Miles departed in 1970, replaced by Experience drummer Mitch Mitchell, but not before his powerhouse work was showcased on the group's lone album, the live Band of Gypsys.
After backing John McLaughlin on 1970's Devotion, Miles returned to the role of bandleader and recorded his most popular album, Them Changes, in 1971; it stayed on the charts for more than a year, and the title cut became Miles' signature song. From December 1971 to April 1972, Miles toured with Carlos Santana, which produced the CBS-released concert document Carlos Santana & Buddy Miles! Live!; recorded inside an inactive volcano in Hawaii, the album sold very well. Miles cut a few more albums for CBS, participated in a short-lived Electric Flag reunion in 1974, then moved to Casablanca in 1975 for a pair of LPs.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/buddy-miles-mn0000943936#biography

The Rolling Stones - Child of the Moon

 #The Rolling Stones #blues rock #hard rock #classic rock #British blues rock #rock & roll #folk blues #garage rock #R&B #1968 music video

The promotional film for the Rolling Stones’ 1968 track “Child Of The Moon” has been newly restored in 4K resolution. The clip, again directed by the group’s frequent collaborator of the time, Michael Lindsay-Hogg, is the latest in ABKCO’s series of restored clips from the band’s 1960s era. “Child Of The Moon” is perhaps one of the lesser-known songs in the Stones’ canon, largely since it was the non-album B-side of their May 1968 smash “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” It was recorded at Olympic Studios with producer Jimmy Miller that March, as sessions began for what became the classic Beggars Banquet LP. Miller’s voice is heard at the beginning of the track, which was sufficiently rated by the band to earn its own promotional video, recently described by Mojo as “an early semi-narrative work” by British director Lindsay-Hogg. The visually striking clip was filmed, in monochrome, in the Surrey countryside. “‘Child Of The Moon’ plays like a British sci-fi/horror short,” wrote the magazine, “seemingly referencing Italian giallo, Village Of The Damned and J. Lee Thompson’s 1966 pagan horror (and Wicker Man forerunner) Eye Of The Devil. The film possesses the dusk-light glow of a peaking acid trip, magic-hour euphoria tinged with a chilly unease, yet also tunes into the darker subtext of the Stones’ occult dalliances.” The song featured keyboards by Stones alumnus Nicky Hopkins, with the saxophone played by Brian Jones. It went on to be included in the More Hot Rocks (Big Hits & Fazed Cookies) compilation in 1972. Allmusic’s review notes that it “was indicative of their slide toward a slightly more laid-back, funkier rock sound than they’d pursued on their more pop- and psychedelic-influenced 1966-1967 releases.” The Elsewhere website describes the song as a “droning little gem” and “certainly the last gasp of the Stones in psychedelic mode.”  From: https://www.udiscovermusic.com/news/watch-restored-promo-film-rolling-stones-child-of-the-moon/

At end of the European tour in 1967, the Rolling Stones found themself in huge troubles. The tension inside the band was really high. The failure of their new psychedelic Lp “Their Satanic Majesties Request” few months later put them into a limbo, that paradoxally spurred the Stones to record one of the best rock’n’roll singles of all the times. “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” was a karma: an anthem never heard before. It came out May 24th, 1968, in England and the 1st of June in Usa, with a strange B side called “Child of the Moon”. As with “Jumpin Jack Flash”, “Child of the Moon” was recorded during the session for the seventh studio album of the band “Beggar’s Banquet”, on March 28, 1968, at the Olympic Studios in London. Unlike the “A side” of the single, “Child” has a gothic sound, introduced by a country blues riff and by a chilling scream sang by the the producer Jimmy Miller just like apocalypse was nearly done. A strange mix for a single that is still recognised as one of their best records ever. “Child of the Moon” was a love letter from Mick Jagger to Marianne Faithfull, fixed with a lot of references to pagan rituals: a gloomy vision in the dark side of love. The band thought enough of the song to accompany it with a promotional video. Directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg, this video was inspired by “Village of the Damned”. A sort of horror movie to give emphasis to the obscure mood of the Stones, according to their colder and satanic soul, in which a band of five men blocking the path to three figures: a child, an elder and a young woman. Maybe it’s the representation of most rebel side of The Stones or maybe it was the representation of the future in the middle of the Sixties for the youngest generations. A decade in which very soon things would have changed and everything would not have been the same again.  From: https://medium.com/@massimilianoleva/child-of-the-moon-the-psychedelic-vision-of-the-rolling-stones-65d932f61604

Maria Muldaur - Don't You Make Me High (Don't You Feel My Leg)

 #Maria Muldaur #folk #blues #country #jazz #folk rock #Americana #pop rock #1960s #1970s

Blue Lu Barker was a New Orleans singer married to the guitarist Danny Barker. They wrote this very sensual song, with Blue Lu singing, "Don't you feel my leg 'cause if you feel my leg you're gonna feel my thigh, and if you feel my thigh, you're gonna go up high." This was pushing the limits in 1938. The song was produced by J. Mayo Williams, who was one of the biggest blues music producers of the '30s and '40s. For Barker, this was her first single after signing with the Vocalion label, and it became a national hit, leading to appearances with Cab Calloway and Jelly Roll Morton. The Barkers appeared at the New Orleans Jazz Festival in 1989, and in 1998, this appearance was released as the album Live at New Orleans Jazz Festival. Danny died in 1994 and Blue Lu in 1998.
Maria Muldaur brought new life to this song when she recorded it for her 1974 self-titled album, with the title altered to "Don't You Make Me High (Don't You Feel My Leg)." That same year, Muldaur had her big hit "Midnight At The Oasis," and when she rose to stardom, she stopped performing "Feel My Leg," as she didn't want to be known for her sexuality. In her interview with Rolling Stone that year, she explained: "It's a funky song, fun to do, but I had to stop doing it. That's my concession to avoid being typecast as a sexy singer, period. I dropped it after I saw a Marilyn Monroe TV special early this year. I saw her entertaining the troops in Korea, up there singing 'I Can't Give You Anything but Love' to acres and acres of horny GIs. Shelley Winters was on the show and she said something about how far Marilyn might have gone if she hadn't let herself get stuck with an image as a sex symbol who couldn't do anything else. That shook me. You can't rely on physical image alone. That's sure as shit gonna fade. The shape of your tits and butt ain't always going to be so good. I want to be a singer long after I'm not so hot to look at."  From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/blue-lu-barker/dont-you-feel-my-leg


Humble Pie - I'm Ready

 #Humble Pie #Steve Marriott #Peter Frampton #hard rock #blues rock #classic rock #British blues rock #ex-Small Faces #1960s #1970s

Humble Pie were an English rock band formed by Steve Marriott in Essex during 1969. They are known as one of the late 1960s' first supergroups and found success on both sides of the Atlantic with such songs as "Black Coffee", "30 Days in the Hole", "I Don't Need No Doctor" and "Natural Born Bugie". The original band line-up featured lead vocalist and guitarist Steve Marriott from Small Faces, vocalist and guitarist Peter Frampton from The Herd, former Spooky Tooth bassist Greg Ridley and a 17-year-old drummer, Jerry Shirley, from The Apostolic Intervention.

1969–1970: Humble Pie Formation and Chart Success
In January 1969 Steve Marriott, having just left Small Faces, got together with Greg Ridley, Peter Frampton and Jerry Shirley. Marriott had brought together Shirley and Ridley as a possible band for Frampton, then ended up joining the band himself. They chose the name Humble Pie and were signed to Andrew Loog Oldham's record label Immediate Records. Their debut album, As Safe as Yesterday Is, was released in August, 1969, along with the single, "Natural Born Bugie", which reached No. 4 hit in the UK Singles Chart; the album peaked at No. 16 in the UK album charts. As Safe as Yesterday Is was one of the first albums to be described by the term "heavy metal" in a 1970 review in Rolling Stone magazine. Their second album, Town and Country released in the UK during 1969 while the band was away on it’s first tour of the US. This album featured a more acoustic sound and songs written by all four members. Humble Pie concerts at this time featured an acoustic set, with a radical re-working of Graham Gouldman's "For Your Love" as its centrepiece followed by an electric set. Recent tape archives show that the band recorded around 30 songs in its first nine months of existence, many of which remained unreleased for decades, including an interpretation of Henry Glover's "Drown in My Own Tears".

1970–1971: Humble Pie Early Success
During 1970, Humble Pie switched to A&M Records and Dee Anthony became their manager. Anthony was focused on the US market and discarded the acoustic set, instigating a more raucous sound with Marriott as the front man. The group's first album for A&M, Humble Pie, was released later that year and alternated between progressive rock and hard rock. A single, "Big Black Dog", was released to coincide with the album and failed to chart, however the band was becoming known for popular live rock shows in the US.
It was during this period that Peter Frampton acquired his famed "Phenix" guitar, the black 1954 Les Paul Custom which became his signature instrument and his favourite guitar for the next decade. Humble Pie was playing a run of shows at the Fillmore West in San Francisco in early December 1970, and during the first show Frampton was plagued by sound problems with his then-current guitar, a semi-acoustic Gibson 335, which was prone to unwanted feedback at higher volumes. After the show he was approached by fan and musician Mark Mariana, who loaned him a modified 1954 Gibson Les Paul, and by the end of the second show Frampton had become so enamoured of the guitar that he offered to buy it on the spot, but Mariana refused payment. Frampton played it almost exclusively for the next ten years. It was featured on the cover of Frampton Comes Alive and was thought to have been destroyed in 1980 when a plane carrying Frampton's stage equipment crashed in Venezuela during a South American tour, killing the crew, but with the guitar in fact surviving the accident with some minor damage. It was eventually returned to Frampton in 2011.
On 9 July 1971, Humble Pie opened for Grand Funk Railroad at their historical Shea Stadium concert, an event that broke the Beatles record for fastest selling stadium concert, to that date. Also in 1971 Humble Pie released their most successful record to date, Rock On, as well as a live album recorded at the Fillmore East in New York entitled Performance Rockin' the Fillmore. The live album reached No. 21 on the US Billboard 200 and was certified gold by the RIAA. "I Don't Need No Doctor" was a FM radio hit in the US peaking at No. 73 on the Billboard Hot 100, propelling the album up the charts. But Frampton left the band by the time the album was released and went on to enjoy success as a solo artist.

1972–1975: Clem Clempson, The Blackberries and Further Success
Frampton was replaced by Clem Clempson and Humble Pie moved towards a harder sound emphasising Marriott's blues and soul roots. Their first record with Clempson, Smokin', was released in 1972, along with two singles "Hot 'n' Nasty" and "30 Days in the Hole" (the latter of which became one of their best-known efforts). It was the band's most commercially successful record, and reached No. 6 on the US charts, helped by a busy touring schedule. After the success of Smokin' the band's record label A&M released Humble Pie's first two Immediate albums in one double album, as Lost and Found.
Looking for a more authentic R&B sound, Marriott hired three female backing vocalists, The Blackberries. The trio consisted of Venetta Fields, Clydie King and Sherlie Matthews who was later replaced by Billie Barnum. They had performed with Ike and Tina Turner as The Ikettes and with Ray Charles as The Raelettes. This new line-up included Sidney George on saxophone for the recording of Eat It, a double album released in 1973 made up of Marriott originals (some acoustic), R&B numbers, and a Humble Pie concert recorded in Glasgow. The album peaked at No. 13 in the US charts. Thunderbox was released in 1974, and Street Rats a year later. In 1975, Humble Pie conducted their Goodbye Pie Tour before disbanding.

From: https://www.ronnielane.com/steve-marriott-and-humble-pie.html

Spooky Tooth - Musikladen 1973

 Part 1

Part 2

#Spooky Tooth #Gary Wright #Mike Harrison #Mick Jones #hard rock #blues rock #psychedelic rock #progressive rock #classic rock #British R&B #1960s #1970s #live music video

Spooky Tooth were an incredibly proficient gaggle of musicians whose individual talents were often greater than the sum of the band — when they were good, they were brilliant, but when they were okay, well they were just okay. The original line-up included two powerful keyboard-playing lead singers Gary Wright and Mike Harrison, a brilliant guitarist in Luther Grosvenor (who became equally famous as Ariel Bender with Mott the Hoople), bassist Greg Ridley (who was a founding member of Humble Pie with The Small Faces’ Steve Marriott) and drummer Mike Kellie (a future member of The Only Ones). Later, the line-up included Mick Jones who (of course) went onto world domination with Foreigner — yeah, I know, but somebody had to do it. 
Originally tinged with psychedelia and early prog rock, Spooky Tooth’s musical focus was shaped by the songwriting talent of Gary Wright over the first two albums — It’s All About (1968) and Spooky Two (1969). But this nascent potential was literally destroyed by the strange collaboration with electronic wizard Pierre Henry for their third album Ceremony (1969), which Wright claims ended the band’s career: “Then we did a project that wasn’t our album. It was with this French electronic music composer named Pierre Henry. We just told the label, “You know this is his album, not our album. We’ll play on it just like musicians.” And then when the album was finished, they said, ‘Oh no no — it’s great. We’re gonna release this as your next album.’ We said, ‘You can’t do that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the direction of Spooky Two and it will ruin our career.’ And that’s exactly what happened.” Devastated, Wright temporarily quit, and Spooky Tooth’s next album The Last Puff (1970) - billed as Spooky Tooth featuring Mike Harrison - was a rather mixed bag of covers, though it did contain the greatest ever Beatles cover “I Am The Walrus.” 
Then Grosvenor and Kellie quit, Jones joined and Wright returned to the fold penning nearly all of the songs for their bizarrely titled fifth album You Broke My Heart So…I Busted Your Jaw (1973).  Next came Witness, which was Harrison’s last album with the band, before the arrival of the more poppy The Mirror (1974), which was generally well received.  The band split — Jones went onto greater success, while Wright released his million-selling solo album Dream Weaver. Spooky Tooth deserve attention not just because of the quality of their disparate players, but also because of the quality of their early and late music — which can partly be seen in these “lost broadcasts” where Spooky Tooth perform “The Weight” on Beat Club in 1968, followed by “Old As I Was Born,” two versions of “Cotton Growing Man,” “Waiting For The Wind” and two versions of “Moriah” for Musikladen in 1973.  From: https://dangerousminds.net/comments/spooky_tooth_the_lost_broadcasts

Moby Grape - Hoochie

 

#Moby Grape #psychedelic rock #acid rock #folk rock #country rock #blues rock #West coast sound #1960s

In the wake of Skip Spence's mental and physical breakdown, 1969's "'69" was recorded as a quartet featuring singer/rhythm guitarist Peter Lewis, singer/lead guitarist Jerry Miller, drummer Don Stevenson and bassist Bob Mosley. Produced by David Rubinson, the album doesn't get much credit from critics or Grape fans, but to my ears it's quite good. It's even more impressive when you consider the turmoil surviving members found themselves surrounded by. Part of the criticism is understandable in that the set isn't particular cohesive, leaving you with the impression it was cobbled together from earlier sessions and catalog odds and ends. Others aren't going to agree, but I've always found the album's diversity is actually one of the characteristics that makes it so enjoyable. With all four members contributing material, the set bounces between different genres, including country & western, folk-rock, pop and conventional rock. It's done with a sense of professionalism and a laid back charm. There are plenty of highlights with Mosley acquitting himself with particular distinction - check out what may be his prettiest song 'It's a Beautiful Day Today' and the boogie rocker 'Hootchie'. Other standout tunes include 'Ain't That a Shame', the rocking ''Going Nowhere' and the typically bizarre (and disturbing) Spence leftover - 'Seeing'. In fact, the latter selection may be enough for some psych fans to buy this set. If I had to find something to criticize then it would probably have to do with Lewis' growing interest in country, but I have to admit I liked 'Ain't That a Shame' and 'I Am ot Willing'. On tracks like 'If You Can't Learn from My Mistakes' the band reminded me of something out of Mike Nesmith's solo career.  Was it the best Moby Grape studio album? Nah, it doesn't come close to the debut, but I'm proud to own a copy, having done my part to boost its sales to #113 n the Billboard album charts. And as you'd expected by a band seemingly cursed with bad luck, things turned even uglier for the band when Mosley unexpectedly quit the band in order to enlist in the Marines Corps. He last nine months before be given a dishonorable discharge for hitting an officer (not a career enhancing decision).  From: https://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/moby-grape/moby-grape-69/

Country Joe & The Fish - She's A Bird

 #Country Joe & The Fish #psychedelic rock #folk rock #psychedelic folk rock #psychedelic blues rock #acid rock #singer-songwriter #1960s

Although Country Joe and the Fish were together only four short years, the band’s political stance and eclectic rock left an important legacy. “Largely forgotten as one of the giants of psychedelic rock,” wrote Joel Selvin of MusicHound Rock, “Country Joe and the Fish towered over their contemporaries….” The band’s 1967 debut, Electric Music for the Mind and Body, remains one of the definitive psychedelic albums of the era, while “I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” inspired thousands to protest the Vietnam War. The band received equal billing with San Francisco groups like the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape, and Jefferson Airplane in the late 1960s, headlining at the Avalon Ballroom and Fillmore Auditorium. Country Joe and the Fish received their greatest attention and are most remembered for their pivotal performance at Woodstock in 1969 and inclusion in the film, Woodstock. With songs that included references to politics and drugs, the band represented a perfect marriage between the radicals of Berkley and the hippies of San Francisco.
Joe McDonald’s parents were Communist workers who named their son after Russian Communist dictator Joseph Stalin. Born in 1942 in Washington, D.C., he grew up in the Los Angeles suburb of El Monte, California. McDonald learned to play the guitar and joined local folk groups, but later ran away from home and joined the Navy for three years. After his discharge, he moved to Berkley where he played guitar and harmonica in the Berkeley String Quartet and Instant Action Jug Band. “Country Joe and the Fish,” noted Bill Belmont on the Well website, “came about as part political device, part necessity, and part entertainment.”
At the end of 1965 McDonald gathered Barry Melton, Richard Saunders, and Carl Shrager from the Instant Action Jug Band, then added Bob Steele to form the first version of Country Joe and the Fish. This acoustic lineup cut two tracks, “I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag,” an anti-Vietnam song, and “Superbird,” a political satire. McDonald and Melton then played for a short time as a folk duo before putting together a second, electric version of the band with Paul Armstrong, Bruce Barthol, David Cohen, and John Francis Gunning. “Bass Strings,” from their “white EP,” received radio play, and the group’s manager, Ed Denson, secured a record deal with Vanguard at the end of 1966.
When Country Joe and the Fish released Electric Music for the Mind and Body in 1967, it quickly became one of the definitive psychedelic rock albums of the era. “The record documented perfectly their unique conglomeration of folk, blues, country and rock,” wrote Marianne Ebertowski in the Marshall Cavendish History of Popular Music. “It also gave evidence of their involvement with the San Francisco drug and hippie scene on the one hand and the radical political movement on the other.” “Bass Strings” and “Flying High” contained overt references to drug use, while the aforementioned “Superbird” included a barbed attack on President Lyndon Johnson. “I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” was left off the album at the request of Vanguard’s Maynard Solomon. “An unusual move,” wrote Bill Belmont, “by the company that staged the Weavers’ reunion concert at Carnegie Hall during the height of the anti-left sentiment in the United States.”
Country Joe and the Fish played at the Avalon Ballroom and the Fillmore Auditorium throughout 1967. They performed at “The Human Be-In” at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, made an appearance at the Monterey Pop International Festival, and even visited the United Kingdom where they played at the Roundhouse in Camden Town. They released their second album, I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die, seven months after their debut. Many critics viewed the album as overindulgent, or as Richie Unterberger described it in All Music Guide, “the kind of San Francisco psychedelia that Frank Zappa skewered on his classic We’re Only in It for the Money.” Nonetheless, the title track was a keeper, noted Unterberger, “a classic antiwar satire that became one of the decade’s most famous protest songs, and the group’s most famous track.” While 1968’s Together received a warmer critical response, it would be the last album by the group’s classic lineup.  From: https://www.encyclopedia.com/education/news-wires-white-papers-and-books/country-joe-and-fish

Cold Blood - Lo and Behold

 #Cold Blood #Lydia Pense #blue-eyed soul #funk rock #R&B #East Bay grease #1960s #1970s

Cold Blood is a long-standing soul-rock-jazz band founded by Larry Field in 1968 and originally based in the San Francisco East Bay area. They have also gone by the name "Lydia Pense and Cold Blood" due to the popularity of their lead singer, Lydia Pense. The band first came to prominence in 1969 when rock impresario Bill Graham signed them after an audition and they played the Fillmore West in San Francisco. Pense has been compared to Janis Joplin, and it was Joplin who recommended the audition to Graham. The band has often been compared to another long-standing popular Northern California group, "Tower of Power", and like "Tower of Power" they were rare in that they featured a horn section in addition to guitar, bass and drums. The "Tower of Power" horn players have performed with "Cold Blood" on a regular basis since the early 1970s. Skip Mesquite and Mic Gillette have been members of both "Tower Of Power" and "Cold Blood".Their fan base also overlaps with the "Sons of Champlin", although their musical styles are quite different. Their initial four albums, "Cold Blood", "Sisyphus", "First Taste of Sin" (produced by Donny Hathaway), and "Thriller" remain their best known work. The band disbanded in the late 1970s, reformed in the 1980s and stabilized with its current membership in the 1990s. Cold Blood continues to record and perform today, and some former band members such as Raul Matute (and some from "Tower of Power") appear on its most recent album.  From: https://en-academic.com/dic.nsf/enwiki/3705807

Along with Tower of Power, Cold Blood pioneered the Bay Area's brass heavy funk-rock sound, which came to be known as "East Bay Grease." After debuting at the Fillmore in 1969 and initially signing to Bill Graham's San Francisco Records label, they developed into one of the most popular high-energy bands in the Bay Area. Fronted by the proverbial little girl with a huge voice, Lydia Pense's powerful vocal chops were impossible to ignore, and despite frequent personnel changes within the band, Cold Blood always attracted inspired and creative musicians and remained a crack unit.
Cold Blood seemed to be overshadowed by Chicago, Blood Sweat And Tears, Tower Of Power, and other more commercially successful horn-fueled bands of the era, but their biggest curse was the critics and reviewers who were relentlessly comparing Lydia to Janis Joplin (who, in reality praised Lydia and the band, including their blistering cover of "Piece Of My Heart"). This, combined with questionable management, frequent personnel changes, and weak album distribution relegated the group to limited success. Cold Blood appeared at the Fillmores often and at many major concerts and festivals but remained most popular in the Bay Area.
Cold Blood's sixth album, Lydia Pense and Cold Blood, released during the bicentennial year of 1976, would be the group's last studio effort of the 1970s. Lydia settled into seclusion on the outskirts of Sonora for most of the 1980s, raising her daughter Danielle. As her daughter approached adulthood, Lydia again began pursuing music and by 1988 had recruited the musicians who would begin a new phase of Cold Blood's horn-driven rock and soul-drenched sound.
A live album titled Live Blood was issued in 2008, proving Cold Blood's appeal had not diminished. Featuring classic older songs as well as new material, this album proved to be what Cold Blood fans had long been waiting for: a sizzling live set that remained true to the pulsating horn-laced sound that defined the band, fronted by an incomparable singer with an astonishingly powerful voice.  From: https://yoshis.com/events/buy-tickets/lydia-pense-cold-blood-1/detail

Mu - Blue Jay Blue

 #Mu #Merrell Fankhauser #psychedelic rock #folk rock #psychedelic folk rock #1960s #1970s

In 1969, Merrell Fankhauser and Jeff Cotton formed MU together with Fankhauser's old bandmates from the mid sixties group Merrell and The Exiles. Cotton (aka Antennae Jimmy Semens) had left Captain Beefheart with three broken ribs after the exhausting experience of recording Trout Mask Replica. Their only album, Mu, was released 1971. After a couple of singles on their own Mu Records, they moved to Maui, Hawaii, in 1973. Larry Willey did not want to move, and Jeff Parker replaced him. In January 1974, they began work on their next album (The Last Album), but broke up before it was released when Cotton and Wimer left to study religion.  From: https://rateyourmusic.com/artist/mu

Well recorded psychedelic avant-prog blues record that actually doesn't work like blues at all. With a clean and full sound and songs made of the strangest dissonant blues licks and riffs, Mu delivers a record that doesn't remind me of anything I've ever heard before. You can hear the broken-up composition style of Captain Beefheart (of which the bass player originated) and yet it's totally different music. Another feature is the CSNY-like vocal harmonies on some of the tracks. On other tracks the vocals are more creepy.

Imaginative, intelligent, rhythmic and diverse music with a deep spiritual feeling to lift your heart, mind and body: Look at the sun, look at the moon, brother we are one. This album is like a time tunnel to the good aspects of the sixties: a mystical warm vibe, the feel of being connected to everyone and everything, respect to human and animal life and the living in touch with nature. Long live Mu, the mythical continent of Lemuria!

From: https://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/mu/mu/reviews/3/

Maria Muldaur - My Tennessee Mountain Home

 #Maria Muldaur #folk #blues #country #jazz #folk rock #Americana #pop rock #1960s #1970s

In autumn 1962, the young blues fanatics Joe Boyd and Geoff Muldaur arrived at the Cornell Folk Festival in Ithaca, New York, too late to hear the performers they’d come to see, Doc Watson and Sleepy John Estes. As Boyd recounts in his memoir White Bicycles, they stuck around for a post-gig party where the musicians and fans unwound and sang old gospel tunes. “We noticed a dark-haired beauty with a long black braid accompanying the Watson party on fiddle or keeping time with a set of bones. Geoff was too shy to talk to her, but swore he would marry her.”
The young lady was the Greenwich Village-born Maria Grazia Rosa Domenica D’Amato, and she did marry Geoff, performing with him in the old-timey Jim Kweskin Jug Band, and eventually recording two albums as a duo for Reprise Records, 1969’s Pottery Pie and Sweet Potatoes in 1972. By 1973, their marriage was over and Geoff joined Paul Butterfield’s band Better Days just as Maria Muldaur’s career was about to skyrocket. She recorded her first solo album, supervised by two men she called “the dynamic duo,” her old friend Boyd and Warner/Reprise staff producer Lenny Waronker. “I had heard what Lenny did for Randy Newman and Ry Cooder, and I just loved what he could do with acoustic material,” she told the writer Jacoba Atlas. “There’s a total presence there that a lot of acoustic bands miss.” Boyd, who’d produced Pink Floyd, Nick Drake, the Incredible String Band and Fairport Convention, among others, once told the British writer Penny Valentine his job was simple: “I just keep anything bad from happening. I keep the path clear, love the music I’m working with, and have the experience in my ears to know what doesn’t sound right.”
A spectacular group of musicians was brought in for the sessions, including guitarists Cooder, David Lindley and former Byrd Clarence White, drummers Jim Keltner and Jim Gordon, fiddler Richard Greene, pianists Dr. John, Jim Dickinson and Spooner Oldham, Bill Keith on banjo and steel guitar, and Klaus Voorman, Ray Brown and Chris Ethridge playing bass. It’s difficult to imagine a better combination of talents for the situation.
Released in August 1973, Maria Muldaur is a potent blend of country, blues, folk and pop, and it still sounds fresh. Muldaur wasn’t a songwriter, but her instincts for picking material were spot on. She gave crucial exposure to several unknown or under-appreciated songwriters, including Kate McGarrigle (“The Work Song”), Wendy Waldman (“Mad Mad Me” and “Vaudeville Man”), Dolly Parton (“My Tennessee Mountain Home”) and David Nichtern, whose “Midnight at the Oasis” became Muldaur’s sole Billboard top 10 hit when released as a single.  From: https://bestclassicbands.com/maria-muldaur-solo-debut-album-review-5-19-20/

Fairport Convention - Suzanne

 #Fairport Convention #Sandy Denny #Ian Matthews #Ashley Hutchings #Richard Thompson #folk rock #British folk rock #electric folk #British folk #psychedelic folk rock #1960s #Leonard Cohen cover

Fairport Convention has long been British folk-rock with the emphasis on British and folk, but listeners most familiar with their revved-up interpretation of traditional English ballads (and like-minded originals) often forget that the band started out as the U.K.'s response to Jefferson Airplane. Heyday collects 12 performances (ten of them covers) recorded for the BBC during the early period when Sandy Denny and Ian Matthews were both singing for the group (and a bus accident had not yet taken the life of original drummer Martin Lamble). While most of the songs were written by noted American folk-rockers of the day, the Fairports put a very individual stamp on every selection here; if you don't think you ever need to hear another version of Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" or Bob Dylan's "Percy's Song," you might well change your mind after hearing Fairport work their magic with them, and their takes on Joni Mitchell's "I Don't Know Where I Stand" and Gene Clark's "Tried So Hard" actually improve on the very worthy originals. Fairport Convention approaches these songs with taste, skill, and subtle but potent fire, and Richard Thompson was already growing into one of the most remarkable guitarists in British rock (and if you're of the opinion that he doesn't know how to be funny, check out his goofy double entendre duet with Sandy, "If It Feels Good, You Know It Can't Be Wrong"). While Fairport Convention would create their most lasting work with Liege and Leif and Full House, Heyday offers delightful proof that this band's talents (and influences) took many different directions, and it captures one of the band's better lineups in superb form.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/album/heyday-bbc-radio-sessions-1968-1969-mw0000201000

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half-crazy but that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And then you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind

And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him
He said all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them
But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind
And then you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind

Now, Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river
She's wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And then you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind

Poco - A Good Feelin' To Know

 #Poco #Richie Furay #Timothy Schmidt #Jim Messina #Randy Meisner #country rock #folk rock #ex-Buffalo Springfield #pre-Eagles #1960s #1970s

For Poco – or Pogo, as they were initially called – the presence of George Harrison, Doug Dillard and Janis Joplin at their shows was surely a sign that they were going to join that aristocracy. On their debut gig they supported the well-established Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and blew them off stage. A banjo player and wannabe comedian called Steve Martin became their regular warm-up act as Hollywood flocked to catch this new sensation. Influential LA Times rock critic Robert Hillburn said Poco were destined for the top and, with Jackson Browne and Linda Ronstadt offering their congratulations, they believed him. But Poco didn’t become the next big thing. Or the one after that. Their story is one of temptation and corruption, thieving managers who doubled as drug dealers, openly internecine hostilities, and a side order of rampant ambition and green-eyed jealousy.
Poco were formed from the ashes of Buffalo Springfield after Neil Young effectively quit that group for the last time following a drugs bust in March 1968. During a noisy jam session at Stephen Stills’s Topanga Canyon ranch, irate neighbours called the cops. Hearing the patrol cars, Stills escaped through a back window, while the Malibu sheriff rounded up Cream’s Eric Clapton and three Buffalos – Young, Richie Furay and Jim Messina – and hauled the brain-mushed stoners off to the LA County jail, where they spent a weekend in the cells with a bunch of Black Panthers who admired their shiny hair and pink boots. Severely traumatized, Young stuck around merely for a farewell show then got out of Springfield in the same Pontiac hearse with Ontario number plates on it that he’d arrived in – and with the master tapes for his solo album. Cut adrift, Furay and Messina immediately began rehearsing a new band, with the Springfield’s nominal guitar tech Rusty Young, a pedal steel ace who could play anything with strings on it, and his drummer friend George Grantham.
“Me and Jimmy started Poco,” says Furay. “I’d been the frontman in Springfield but it was Stills’s band. Neil was restless; he had too many agendas. We bossed places like the Whisky, the Palladium and the Troubadour, but there were too many Canadians with immigration problems in the group and it just fizzled out.” Or as Young said: “We thought we’d be together forever. But we were just too young to be patient.” Everybody knew that was nowhere. Rusty Young recalls the early days: “I came from Denver to play on a Richie song called Kind Woman for the Springfield’s Last Time Around sessions, only to find they’d broken up. Richie and Jim had this concept – to mix country and rock with banjo, mandolin and dobro. It was a new idea. We searched Los Angeles for recruits.
"We tried out Greg Allman on organ, and Gram Parsons way before he joined The Byrds. They released Sweetheart Of The Rodeo using our sound, which Gram took from us and taught them. It was typical that they beat us to the punch so everyone thought we were copying them. Gram was into George Jones; there was no rock in his country at all. It’s a myth that Gram invented country rock. Chinese whispers. It became the truth, but it was an absolute lie. Sure, he formed the Flying Burrito Brothers. But only because he’d played with us." Furay, originally a pleasant farm boy from Ohio, had more reason to admire Parsons: “I knew him when we were folkies in New York City. He played me The Byrds’ first album and prompted me into that music. But I’m definitely a pioneer, because it was Poco who broke down barriers between hippies and rednecks. Country clubs, even in California, were real intimidating places. Watch out if you had moderately long hair."
With Buffalo Springfield’s accounts in disarray, and the Troubadour’s Doug Weston paying absolute bottom dollar, action was necessary. “We had no money at all,” says Rusty Young. "Our manager, Dickie Davis [Springfield’s road man], had dozens of airline tickets spread on a table. One was for Neil Young, who never turned up for gigs half the time. The name said ‘Mr. N. Young’, and since my middle name is Norman - Neil got our band off the ground.” Having enlisted bassist Randy Meisner, Poco were slow off the mark as a recording act, and had trouble settling on a band name after running into a legal battle with Walt Kelly, the creator of the wildly popular Pogo The Possum newspaper cartoon character. They flirted with calling themselves RFD (standing for Rural Free Delivery), before returning to the Troubadour in their new guise, wearing cowboy gear stitched by wives and girlfriends. Stardom seemed but a step away.  From: https://www.loudersound.com/features/how-poco-invented-a-brand-new-sound-only-to-have-it-stolen-by-the-eagles

The Move - Colour Me Pop 1969

 #The Move #Roy Wood #Jeff Lynne #psychedelic rock #blues rock #hard rock #British psychedelia #psychedelic pop rock #art rock #proto-prog #proto-metal #1960s #music video

Colour Me Pop was a BBC television series from the late 1960s that devoted itself to some of the best rock & roll acts of the period, without the usual compromises that such programs engaged in - groups would perform on camera, with their microphones live and their instruments plugged in, for as long as 30 minutes at a clip, and they wouldn't limit themselves to singles, either; Colour Me Pop was among the first television shows on either side of the Atlantic that could be used to perform and showcase album-length bodies of music.
The Move's set captures the four-man lineup behind Shazam in peak form. Whether they're playing hard electric numbers like "I Can Hear Grass Grow" or acoustic guitar driven pieces such as "Beautiful Daughter," or pieces that were otherwise unrepresented in their history, such as "The Christian Life" and "Goin' Back," they sound great - indeed, the version of "The Last Thing on My Mind" here is superior to the officially released studio recording on Shazam, and also makes good use of super-imposition and split-screen effects for its time. Oh, and the sound is excellent.
From: https://www.allmusic.com/album/colour-me-pop-the-small-faces-the-move-dvd--mw0001009492

I've seen the Moody Blues, Small Faces and The Move episodes of Colour Me Pop. Does anyone know if these performances are studio backing track with live vocals?

Somewhere in the dark part of my brain I remember seeing a web site that dealt with that very question. The interesting thing was that it varied, even within a particular episode. For instance, 'Fire Brigade' on The Move show is live, but there are other songs that aren't.

The Move January 1969
Several tracks are completely live - vocals and band - either that or the totally "live" numbers were exclusive pre-recorded backing tracks. Fascinating to see and hear Carl Wayne on bass on "The Christian Life" and interesting to compare the vocals on "I Can Hear The Grass Grow" to the 1967 "Beat Beat Beat" version with Ace Kefford. "Fire Brigade" is just magnificent. However, "Wild Tiger Woman" is a mime to the single release, as is "Something". "Beautiful Daughter" is a curious one - it's a mix of what appeared on "Shazam" - the vocal is identical but the mix is very different since it features a drum part on it and there's no strings - I think - getting a bit confuddled here myself (hence swiftly re-editing this post a couple of times). All three shows are magnificent slices of early colour British pop TV. How tragic that the vast majority of episodes of this show were wiped - editions featuring Love Sculpture, Family, David Bowie, Orange Bicycle, The Kinks, The Hollies, Manfred Mann and many more, all lost forever.

From: https://forums.stevehoffman.tv/threads/colour-me-pop-uk-tv.146238/

Occasionally plundered for clip shows, The Move’s Colour Me Pop appearance from 4th January 1969 saw them tearing through hits like Flowers In The Rain and Fire Brigade as well as the popular b-side Something, chaotic chart-missing single Wild Tiger Woman, a work in progress version of Beautiful Daughter, and covers of the Gerry Goffin and Carol King number Goin’ Back and bluegrass standard The Christian Life, both of which had recently also been covered by The Move’s noted favourites The Byrds. As well as an early sighting of the sort of glittery jackets that the Carnaby Street boutiques had recently started to sell – maybe inspiring David Bowie and Marc Bolan to take a trip to Alkasura the following Monday – this performance is also notable for capturing the band as they were adjusting to the recent departure of original bass player Ace Kefford. The Move had always shared out lead vocals as the ‘narrative’ of each song dictated – if you want a good trivia question to catch someone out with, ask them who the first person heard singing on BBC Radio 1 was; chances are they’ll know the first record played was Flowers In The Rain and automatically say Roy Wood, but the opening verse was actually handled by Carl Wayne – and Ace Kefford can be heard prominently on many of their best known singles. Although any fan of The Move would be able to tell that they were audibly struggling to compensate for his absence in places, their vocal interplay nonetheless caught John Lennon’s attention; while discussing how to approach The Beatles’ new songs, he mentioned the effect that The Move’s distanced stage positioning had on their vocal arrangements and began playing around with ideas inspired by that. This was an especially startling moment for me, as when I had a chat with Beatles expert Chris Shaw about the Yellow Submarine soundtrack, we got on to the subject of speculation about how The Beatles might have sounded if they had started playing live in 1968. Sceptical of some of the more fanciful ideas of string sections and elaborate stage effects, I had suggested instead that they’d have sounded more like the flashy psychedelic pop captured on the live album Something Else From The Move. It’s quite something to realise how close to the reality that very nearly was.  From: https://timworthington.org/2021/12/21/did-you-watch-the-bbc2-thing/

Carole King - Pleasant Valley Sunday (demo)

 #Carole King #singer-songwriter #pop #folk pop #pop rock #Brill Building #1960s #1970s

Carole King established her solo career in 1971 with her hit album Tapestry, but in the lead up to this she had already written hits for artists such as The Shirelles, Aretha Franklin, The Monkees, The Drifters and more. To celebrate her music and 'Beautiful - The Carole King Musical' currently in London, we've put together a list of popular songs you probably didn't know were hers.

The Beatles - 'Chains' 1963

Originally written for girl group The Cookies, 'Chains' became a popular cover song for Liverpool bands, and was an early track in The Beatles' live sets. In 1963, The Beatles recorded a version for their debut album LP Please Please Me. George Harrision took lead vocals and this was the first time fans heard him singing on a commercially-released song.

Dusty Springfield - 'Goin’ Back' 1966

Made famous by Dusty Springfield, the song perfectly describes the loss of innocence when becoming an adult, and hoping to recapture an essence of youth. David Crosby lost his place in the Byrds after criticising their decision to record the song. It has been covered by Freddie Mercury, The Pretenders, Bon Jovi, Phil Collins and Diana Ross among many others.

The Shirelles - “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” 1960

The Shirelles' original is one of the most well-known soul tracks ever recorded. Lead singer Shirley Owens originally didn't want to record this track, as she believed it sounded too country. This became Carole’s first No. 1 at the young age of 18. It was later recorded for her 1971 album, Tapestry. It has been covered countless times, by everyone from Dusty Springfield to Amy Winehouse. Apparently, Carole hailed the Bee Gees' cover as the "definitive" version.

The Monkees - 'Pleasant Valley Sunday' 1967

Gerry Goffin wrote the lyrics about the faults of suburban life, based on the street he and Carole lived on called Pleasant Valley Way in West Orange, New Jersey. It became one of The Monkees' most successful singles.

The Byrds - 'Wasn’t Born to Follow' 1968

Released in 1968 on 'The Notorious Byrd Brothers' album, it was used the following year to great effect on the soundtrack of Easy Rider. It has also been covered by Dusty Springfield, appearing on the 1999 'Dusty in London' album of lost recordings. Carole recorded her own version in 1969 when she was fronting a group called 'The City'.

Steve Lawrence - 'Go Away Little Girl' 1962

The lyrics consist of a man asking a young woman to get away from him, so that he will not be tempted to cheat on his girlfriend and kiss her. Control yourself, please. Later recorded in the 70s by Donny Osmond.

Aretha Franklin - '(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman' 1967

Made famous by Aretha Franklin, it also appears on Carole's 1971 album, Tapesty. This powerful song has been taken on by various female powerhouses, including Celine Dion, Mary J Blige, Kelly Clarkson, Bonnie Tyler and, obviously, Rod Stewart.

From: https://blog.seetickets.com/2016/01/18/19-popular-songs-you-might-not-have-known-were-written-by-carole-king/

Carole King & Gerry Goffin

 

Procol Harum - Simple Sister - Beat-Club 1971

 #Procol Harum #psychedelic rock #progressive rock #art rock #proto-prog #1960s #1970s #music video

Procol Harum’s ‘Broken Barricades’ album starts, like ‘Home’ before it, with Robin Trower's guitar playing an unmistakable signature phrase. This angry eruption signals the start of the song that engineer John Punter called Pimple Blister, with its cruel, some would say misogynistic lyric. Like Whisky Train, this is an enormously popular song with live audiences, specially in the USA, and since it was written all Procol's guitarists – Trower, Ball, Grabham, Renwick and Whitehorn – have played it. The five-note opening rhythm, on a repeated note, even found its way unwittingly into Mick Grabham's final bars of Beyond the Pale.
On stage the song exists in two varieties, the mere three-verse one (a mere 3 minutes 17 seconds on the Beat Club recital of 27 November 1971), and the extended 'build-up' version, over a melodic bass-line midway. The longer version is far more dramatic – the same instinct for juxtaposing opposites resulted in the insertion of the quiet Bach Prelude into Repent Walpurgis, another thundering four-chord passacaglia. Strangely there are some fans who would prefer both songs in attenuated form. It's worth dilating on the origins of the central riff, which has borrowed the first five or six notes (and the sprightly rhythm) wholesale from the opening of The Capitols' 1966 Cool Jerk. But Procol do something more interesting than the Cool Jerk composers: they modulate the motif from C major up to E flat, then again to G minor and down again … it goes somewhere, rather than being just an R&B elaboration of the basic blues progression. The Cool Jerk riff starts out with bass, then adds 'some eighty-eights' (a particularly shoddy-sounding piano), then immediately the whole band, but Brooker's ensemble builds up minutely slowly, something added every time the refrain re-starts, constantly surprising the listener with melodic and rhythmic ideas, begging the question, 'how can this end'? Musically the arrangement (by Brooker, conducted by George Martin, who is not credited on the sleeve) may be one of the big anomalies in the Procol catalogue: most of their orchestral work draws on baroque or romantic European traditions, but here the layering also seems reminiscent of modern, minimalist composers like Reich and Glass. Other famous records use heavy repetition and progressive layering – for instance Hey Jude and I Want You (She's So Heavy) – but these cases have endings faded or cut, somehow leaving the effect unconsolidated in one's ear. We do hear such a throwaway technique on the Barricades album in the final minutes of the title track. But Simple Sister, like its antecedent Whaling Stories, offers remission from the build-up, finding a closure that offers emotional relief.
This unique build-up is finely structured. Bars 1 to 32 follow the Skip Softly chords, after which the guitar plays a more-or-less fixed melody over the Cool Jerk riff, heard for the first time. Bars 41 to 64 comprise another 'unit' of Skip Softly and Cool Jerk; then the guitar lets rip for an improvisation over the Skip Softly chords, running from bars 65 to 88 (at the end of which section we hear a cross-fade between two takes, using two different guitars). Bar 89 begins a Skip Softly sequence that delays its last chord, and the brief drum break at 97 begins the Cool Jerk section in earnest. Piano, bass and drums start it at 98; bar 106 adds one of the manic chattering sounds we now know to be Gary Brooker's piano, recorded while running the tape slow, and subsequently speeded up. Chris 'The Grouts' Michie describes this process in illuminating detail here: for a long time the source of this sound was a mystery, though Geoff Whitehorn's strummed guitar does a capable job of imitating it in live performance. One more piano note is added every eight bars until 146, by which time high 'chiming' notes are heard as well, and at 154 guitar and 'celli join the chattering fray, with some quiet brass. High melodic strings are added at 170, whooping brass at 178, and heavy Wagnerian brass at 186. Just when pop precedent primes us to expect a fade, the Skip Softly motif cuts in at 194, and one more verse is sung; 210 sees the speedy coda, (including a new chord!) and the long growling C minor sustain at 213 ends the song. Gary told the NME (5 June 1972) that this was 'Music from the 23rd century'.
The reversion, from the Cool Jerk section to the opening matter again, is done with a musical brutality entirely suited to the cruelty of the words. It’s a song of vitriol and abuse, continuing the Still There'll Be More vein of writing. Perhaps it was a deliberate irony, adapting the riff of a positive, life-enhancing dance tune to offset Keith Reid’s savage libretto. This piece portrays serial vindictiveness like Poor Mohammed does: but what disease merits such cruel treatment? Despite the problems of interpretation that it poses to the record-buyer, Gary told NME that the piece was 'Lyrically quite simple, but there's something very personal about it. A quick summary of a situation Keith ran into somewhere.'  From: https://www.procolharum.com/tn+sq/bb_tr_simpl.htm

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Effigy

 #Creedence Clearwater Revival #roots rock #blues rock #country rock #swamp rock #classic rock #1960s #1970s

"Effigy," written by Creedence Clearwater Revival frontman John Fogerty, is the last track on the Willy and the Poor Boys album. This was the fourth studio album released and the third platinum album for CCR, riding the peak of their popularity in 1969. This song is a good example of the "roots rock" style that CCR helped to pioneer. While Bob Dylan is largely credited with starting the roots movement in 1966, only a handful of bands followed that lead, while the rest turned to folk, blues, or psychedelia. CCR fits into the niche within the country-influenced roots rock genre in between The Byrds, Tom Petty, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Eagles, and of course The Flying Burrito Brothers. By sticking to the basics while everybody else was jumping on the experimentation bandwagon, they could be progressive and anachronistic at the same time.
Another thing that set CCR apart was the tight cohesion of the band members. While other groups swapped members between each other like so many kids playing Red Rover, CCR remained their own little island of Fogerty, Fogerty, Clifford, and Cook, with the only change being when Tom Fogerty split in 1971, after which they were down to a trio. Furthermore, they had considerable influence for a band that was only releasing albums together five years!
CCR drummer Doug Clifford said that this is a political song through and through. "It's pointing the finger at the Nixon administration when they were crumbling," he explained in Bad Moon Rising: The Unofficial History of Creedence Clearwater Revivial. "The dark period, if you will." An effigy is a model of an actual person that is made for the purpose of being destroyed as an act of protest or expression of anger. The "palace lawn" is referring to the lawn of the White House. In Fortunate Son: My Life, My Music, Fogerty affirms Nixon as the inspiration for his song, calling the former president "a schmuck." The specific event that triggered Fogerty to write the song happened October 15, 1969, when millions of people marched around the world to protest the Vietnam War. Nixon completely dismissed the event. As Fogerty remembers it, the former president said, "Nothing you do here today will have any effect on me. I'm going back inside to watch the football game." That dismissive attitude enraged Fogerty at the time and, judging from the writing in Fortunate Son, enrages him still.
From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/creedence-clearwater-revival/effigy

The Zombies - I’ll Call You Mine

 #The Zombies #Rod Argent #Colin Blunstone #psychedelic rock #blues rock #pop rock #baroque pop #psychedelic pop #classic rock #British invasion #1960s

Q: Where did the name, The Zombies, come from?

Rod Argent: We got together in 1961, at the very beginning of the English band scene. That was even a year before the Beatles. We didn't know what to call ourselves. For the first month or so, we were called the Sundowners. But I think that may well have been a western film in the same way as the Searchers' name was from a John Wayne movie. We were also the Mustangs for a couple of weeks, but never went out on a gig with that name.  One day, our bass player at the time, who was the only one initially who left the band before we were professional, said, "What about The Zombies?" This was in the days before any of the crop of zombie films, like "Return Of The Living Dead." Now I just about knew what a zombie was. It had something to do with Haiti, and some sort of voodoo, unsavory sorts of things. Colin Blunstone didn't even know that. He hated the name! But I loved it. If we were lucky enough to get any recognition later, then very soon the name itself would be unimportant. It would just become whomever the members of the band were. A year after the Beatles were named, no one that I know thought about insects or even the play on words. They just thought about John, Paul, George and Ringo. That proved to be the case with us. When we were in the studio once, I was wandering around and heard the sound of Miles Davis coming from a record player in someone's dressing room. I knocked on the door. It opened, and there was Manfred Man. I asked if that was Miles playing, and he said, "Yeah, yeah." Then he looked at me and asked, "You're Rod Argent, aren't you?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Man, I love your record, but you have to change that band name." But we never did [laughs].

Q: How did you meet Colin Blunstone?

Argent: The day we had our first rehearsal was the first day I met Colin. He was a friend of the bass player, who was a friend of mine. Originally, I was supposed to be lead singer, and not play piano at all. We had a little jam, and thought it was all going pretty well. Then we had a coffee break. I wandered over to an old, beaten-up piano, and started playing some Stingers records I'd heard. Colin came running over and said, "That sounds fantastic. You've got a great playing ability. Why don't you sing AND play piano?" I thought that would be too much, to sing lead vocals and play piano, so I said, "No." Twenty minutes later, we had another break. Colin sat down and started strumming a guitar, because he was going to play second guitar, rhythm. He started singing a Ricky Nelson song. It sounded absolutely lovely! I said, "My God, I had no idea you could sing like that. I'll tell you what. - you be lead singer, and I'll play piano." And that's how we started. It was Easter of 1961.

From: https://www.forbes.com/sites/jimclash/2020/06/08/how-did-the-1960s-band-the-zombies-come-up-with-their-strange-name/?sh=4af7dfa63d4e