Michael McDonald Remembers Steely Dan, Doobies and Motown Soul in Memoir

Posted on November 11, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
The Doobie Brothers shortly after McDonald joined in 1975 (l to r): Keith Knudsen, John Hartman, Tom Johnston, Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, Patrick Simmons, Michael McDonald and Tiran Porter. Michael Ochs Archives/Getty.

He possesses one of the most recognizable voices in Classic Rock. A voice that stretches from a rich, buttery and slightly grizzly baritone to a piercing howl of a tenor. And he’s a pretty damn good songwriter and keyboardist as well.

So, whether he’s singing backup for Steely Dan, fronting the Doobie Brothers, or delivering blue-eyed R&B soul as a solo artist, you know Michael McDonald’s tones the minute they hit your ear.

But what even his fans probably don’t know are the ups and downs of his life in more detail. That changes with the publication of his autobiography, What A Fool Believes (336 pp., $32, Dey Street Books). He tells his story in life and music with co-author Paul Reiser. Yes, that Paul Reiser, the actor/comedian/author who is also a close personal friend of his now completely white-haired-and-bearded neighbor.

McDonald’s first public performance came at the age of five when he stood up at one of the bars his father frequented (which is a story of its own…) to belt out, bizarrely, “Love is a Many Splendored Thing.” Dad—who possessed a fine voice of his own and sang locally—beamed. Though McDonald’s relationship with both of his parents would be…complicated.

His love of music flourished as he transitioned through a series of teen bands, finally landing in California where he laid down tracks for a debut solo record…that was never released. The dream was over before it began, and it was back to the Ferguson/St. Louis area.

But a return to California and some hardscrabble pickup gigs and studio sessions kept him at least in his usual lunch of Ding Dongs and Diet Dr. Pepper. But it also gave McDonald access to drugs and alcohol—which he began using (and abusing) with greater frequency, which he would do even at the height of his success and after.

McDonald’s early band The Guild in 1970: Rich Lang, Terry Duggar, Michael McDonald, Jim Lang, Bill Ulkus and Denny Henson. Photo by Blytham Ltd/John Baruck.

Part of the impetus to escape laid with his personality. By admission, he was often detached, with one foot out the door in any situation and suffering from (amazingly, to this day) some sort of Imposter Syndrome.

Studio ace musician Jeff Porcaro (who would later go on to co-found Toto) recommended McDonald to his pals in Steely Dan, and the awestruck kid barely out of his teens would go on to (briefly) tour and later record with them (mostly memorably singing audible backup on “Bad Sneakers” and “Peg”).

As his drug use escalated, it led to as least one (now) funny episode with Dan co-founder Walter Becker. Trying to be more ‘70s Walter Whites, the pair decided to sink money into buying some cocaine, which they would cut up, sell for a profit, and even have some left for themselves.

Unfortunately, they kept snorting their supply and drinking tequila until it was all gone, and days had gone by. Becker left McDonald’s apartment, only to return later—accompanied by LAPD officers—who asked the keyboardist “Does this belong to you?” They had responded to a call of “some crazy dude” knocking out nearby windows and calling his name. Because Becker had forgotten where McDonald lived.

In his second instance of an amazing job referral, former Steely Dan and then-current Doobie Brothers guitarist Jeff “Skunk” Baxter recommended McDonald as a “temporary replacement” for their ailing singer (and guitarist) Tom Johnston.

The temporary quickly became permanent, and the more jazz/R&B/AOR McDonald version of the Doobies would go on to massive commercial success, sold out concerts, and more awards than they could count. The band’s string of hits would include “Takin’ It to the Streets,” “It Keeps You Runnin’” “Real Love,” “Minute by Minute,” and the song that gives this book its title.

McDonald and singer Amy Holland in the studio, 1983. McDonald was producing her record and they would later marry. Photo by Henry Diltz.

Fans of the band will have hoped for more detailed and nuanced stories about The Doobie Years, but there’s a paucity in the narrative other than some road stories, and little about McDonald’s relationships with his bandmates.

Michael McDonad and co-author Paul Reiser today. Photo by Scarlett McDonald.

The “official” Doobies bio by Patrick Simmons and Tom Johnston, Long Train Runnin’ also seemed to skimp on more than surface stories, leaving someone out there left to pen any definitive book on the band.

One interesting tidbit concerns his very name. McDonald had gone by “Mike” his entire life. But on introducing him at his very first Doobies concert, Patrick Simmons called him “Michael.” Then so did a local newspaper report. And voila, it was Michael from then on!

One factual nitpick: McDonald refers a couple of times to Tiran Porter as the band’s “original” bassist, which will come as a surprise to those who know the name Dave Shogren.

There easy flowing are incidents of joy (his meeting and courting wife Amy, though they originally were dating other people) and disappointment (an encounter with his musical hero, Ray Charles).

McDonald would find solo success after leaving the Doobies (“I Keep Forgettin’ [Every Time You’re Near]” “Yah Mo B There,” “Sweet Freedom”). But his drug and booze abuse escalated to the point where he’s show up late and loaded to his own wife’s family therapy sessions while she herself was in rehab.

Both would clean up and McDonald would find a left-field resurgence with a trio of Motown/soul cover records. He was back with the Doobies on the third year of their 50th anniversary tour.

What a Fool Believes is a revealing read, and has a conversational, easy tone that goes down as easily to the reading eyes as McDonald’s voice does to the listening ears.

And even Paul Rudd’s electronics salesman character in the film the 40-Year-Old Virgin—who threatens to “Yah Mo burn the place down” if he’s forced to hear another video loop of the singer at the behest of his McDonald-loving boss—would approve.

This article originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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Blue Öyster Cult Resurrect Tapes of the Past To Tell Ghost Stories

Posted on September 15, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
Still avoiding both Godzilla and the Grim Reaper: Original Blue Öyster Cult members Eric Bloom and Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser. Photo by Sandra Roeser.

The movie monster that they’re most associated with—name checked in the title one of their most recognizable tunes—is Godzilla. But the new studio album from venerable Classic Rockers Blue Öyster Cult takes inspiration from a different sort of cinematic creature: Frankenstein.

With their latest release, Ghost Stories (Frontiers Music) these cult members have resurrected a series of incomplete, unused, or only-played-informally-live songs recorded during the period of 1976-83. And then stitched them together with partially newly recorded instruments and vocals to finish or update the job.

As a result, listeners can hear contributions on Ghost Stories from original, classic, former, and current members of the band, making it sort of a family reunion.

“I didn’t even know those pre-production recordings still existed. I had kind of forgotten about them!” Founding Cult singer/guitarist Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser says over Zoom. “It’s great that they did. We didn’t record a lot of extra stuff in the studio, so to even have that material available was great. Remember in the vinyl era, you could only fit 20 minutes or so of music on each side.”

The project’s genesis came from the band’s current label, Frontiers Music. They wanted to build on the success of the 2020 release The Symbol Remains (their first new studio effort in nearly 20 years). But given the band’s schedule and level of activity, it would have been quite a wait.

Longtime BÖC agent/road manager/associate Steve Schenck then toyed with the idea of taking some of the band’s archival tracks which hadn’t seen the light of day and making something of them. As he explained in a video with Ghost Stories co-producer (and current Cult guitarist/singer) Richie Castellano, they reached out to George Geranios, the band’s original audio engineer, for potential material. Which he indeed had.

The fragile original audiotapes had to then be actually “baked” in ovens to preserve them before being transferred to digital audio. They featured performances by original members Roeser, Eric Bloom (vocals/guitar), Allen Lanier (vocals/guitar/keyboards), Joe Bouchard (vocals/bass/keyboards) and drummers Albert Bouchard and his replacement, Rick Downey. Not all of it was salvageable.

All but Lanier (who died in 2013) and Downey then added new or “reimagined” parts, as did Castellano, for the final product. The producers called the process “demixing and remixing,” using some AI components.

Songs run the gamut from their trademark spooky/ethereal sound (“So Supernatural,” “Don’t Come Running to Me”), near-rockabilly (“Cherry”), funk (“Soul Jive”), hard rock (“Late Night Street Fight,” “Shot in the Dark,” “Money Machine”), and more romantic-type fare (“The Only Thing”).

Covers include their take on the MC5’s “Kick Out the Jams” (Dharma also throws in a quote of their tune “Rambling Rose”) and the Animals; “We Gotta Get Out of This Place.” The album ends with the only non-reimagined song, an intimate and informal cover of the Beatles’ “If I Fell” performed by the group’s 2016 lineup. Roeser says “’So Supernatural’ came the most way from the original demo. The animated video, put together mostly by Castellano, features many BÖC “Easter eggs.”

As mentioned, BÖC’s last proper studio record was The Symbol Remains. And though it was well-received by critics and fans, it was ignored by both earthbound and terrestrial radio. Unfortunately, that the usual fate among Classic Rock bands who choose to stay creative and put out new music. Why play something from the new record when you can spin the well-worn hits for the gazillionth time?

“When we approached recording that record, we worked very hard to make it comparable to the legacy records. But us and other bands of our era are not the current big thing anymore, so it’s hard to get potential people to hear it. And of course, you can stream it for nothing,” Roeser offers.

That said, he still thinks that streaming—where someone today on Spotify can hear 50+ years of the band’s music at the click of mouse—is “great.” “I think it’s killed the album as a thing, and it’s back to singles dominating like it did in the 1950’s,” he offers.

To celebrate the band’s 50th anniversary in 2022, Blue Öyster Cult booked a series of three shows at New York City’s Sony Hall. The setlist included an opening set performing their first three studio albums in their entirety on subsequent nights (1972’s Blue Öyster Cult, 1973’s Tyranny and Mutation, and 1974s Secret Treaties, followed by a second set of hits, fan favorites, and deep cuts.

The first release, 50th Anniversary Live—First Night came out last year on Frontiers, and Roeser says that the next two should be out by the end of 2024. He notes that the band played a number of songs that they had either not performed live in decades or even at all.

“I had to woodshed to play the way I did when I was 23 years old! I had a different mindset and a different muscle set back then!” Roeser laughs. “I had to go back to the gym with my fingers. I don’t play as fiery now as I did back then. My style had changed, and that was a realization for me. But it was fun to come up with the parts!”

Looking at the discography of Blue Öyster Cult, one sees that Roeser (or “Buck Dharma”—he goes back and forth between names) alone wrote “Godzilla” and “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper” and co-wrote “Burin’ for You” with Richard Meltzer. He sang lead on the last two, and the trio are probably the band’s most recognizable and popular tunes.

In 2017, Eric Bloom told me that the band had to sign away some of the publishing rights and royalties for “Godzilla” in perpetuity to Japan’s Toho Films, which owned the film copyright on the green scaly monster and had threatened a lawsuit. But Roeser remembers it a bit differently.

“It wasn’t Toho, it was the U.S. company holder that had a license, A.A. Wonderland Records. They owned the audio rights [to Godzilla], but we only had a song with that title. I think we could have actually pushed back on it at the time, but we thought it might not be worth the effort. So, our manager, Sandy Pearlman, gave them a piece of it to go away,” he recalls.

“But I would doubt if that’s still in effect, unless it comes off the top from Sony and they don’t tell us about it. In retrospect, we should have put our foot down. We did hear from Toho when we had a Godzilla T-shirt, though!”

The band appears in other pop culture references, most notably in the 1982 film Fast Times at Ridgemont High when a kid approaches ticket scalper/virgin deflowerer Mike Damone at a mall and asks “Got any Blue Öyster Cult?”

“NO. I don’t have any Blue Öyster Cult! I had 34 pairs last time around. Where were you? I was that close to working at 7-11, you know?” Damone says indignantly.

“I found out about that just be seeing the movie!” Roeser says today. “I’ve gotten a kick over just the oblique kind of ways that Blue Öyster Cult has assimilated in the culture. There are horror movies and of course, the [Saturday Night Live] ‘Cowbell’ sketch!” Ah, yes, the band has now even worked the infamous exhortation “More Cowbell!” into their live shows. 

Donald Roeser is equally at home being called by his birth name or “Buck Dharma.” In the early days of the band, manager Sandy Pearlman thought it would be good if each member had an eccentric stage name and bestowed upon each man one he created. Only Roeser accepted his and uses it to this day. So, the question must be asked: Does he remember any of his bandmates’ discarded monikers?

“You’d have to ask them! I don’t want to say what the rejected or tattle on them!” Roeser offers. “I liked mine because I think I had a good one!”

The band’s current lineup includes original members Roeser and Bloom, Castellano (guitar/vocals), Danny Miranda (bass) and Jules Radino (drums). Roeser—as Buck Dharma—has a solo single and video, “The End of Every Song,” coming out later this year.

This interview originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

For more on Blue Öyster Cult, visit BlueOysterCult.com

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Country Rock Thrives with Gene Clark and Flying Burrito Brothers for Record Store Day

Posted on August 4, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
Bob Dylan joins the Byrds onstage at Ciro’s on Hollywood’s Sunset Blvd. in March 1965. (L to R): David Crosby, Gene Clark, Bob Dylan, Roger McGuinn, Chris Hillman. Not pictured on drums: Michael Clarke. The Jim Dickson Collection/Courtesy of John Delgatto.

As a founding member of the Byrds, Gene Clark was folk rock royalty. Onstage, he usually stood center, leaning into his microphone while occasionally shaking a tambourine. Though his well-built physicality, near-bowl haircut and cool inscrutability instantly drew the eye.

Clark’s real value to the Byrds was as a songwriter. He was by far the most prolific penner of their original material, co-writing “Eight Miles” high and penning alone “I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better,” “She Don’t Care About Time,” and “Set You Free This Time.”

Still, it came as a bit of a shock when less than eight months after the band’s debut single—a danceable cover of Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man”—hit #1, Clark abruptly left the band, citing frustrations with his bandmates and—ironically—a fear of flying.

The next few decades would find him following a Quixotic career of solo releases, collaborations, and different bands. His death came in 1991 at the age of 46 from a heart attack, though a bleeding ulcer and heavy drug and alcohol use were contributing factors. But his group of growing admirers praised his contributions, especially to the formation of country rock and alt country.

Gene Clark in the mid ’60s. The Jim Dickson Collection/Courtesy of John Delgatto.

Clark was always in the studio, often under the guidance of producer Jim Dickson, who always kept tape rolling. Gene Clark: The Lost Studio Sessions 1964-1982 (Liberation Hall) collects 24 unreleased tracks from five sessions showcasing him in both solo acoustic and band settings. He’s backed by members of the Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, and Manassas, along with musician Leon Russell and Hugh Masekela.

Originally released in 2016, it made its CD debut for Record Store Day this year. It’s a tour de force for Clark, and should only burnish his reputation.

Tom Sandford probably knows more about the life and music of Gene Clark than anyone, a diehard fan and archivist who has run the exhaustively detailed Clarkophile blog (www.clarkphile.blogspot.com) since 2008. He’s an Associate Producer on this release.

One of the remarkable things is how The Lost Studio Sessions chronicles the evolution of Clark’s voice. From dramatic, showy vibrato to straight up Dylan impersonator and smooth troubadour to country rock twanger. Though by the last sessions, the vocals shows a weathered roughness that was reflected in his life.”

Gene Clark playing guitar. The Jim Dickson Collection/Courtesy of John Delgatto.

“That’s a perceptive assessment. Early on, someone described his voice as having a ‘peach fuzz’ quality, and he’s trying to find his voice early on. And everyone was obsessed with Dylan at the time,” Sandford says.

“It’s not a rock voice but has a bit of folk. He’s flirting with a mid-tempo, melancholy sound that he made his own. And by the time you hit the 1970s, that’s pure Gene Clark. And the breadth and scope of the acoustic material is astonishing.”

It’s the sound of White Light (1971), Roadmaster (1973), often considered his best work. And after an short-lived Byrds reunion came the bigger sound of No Other (1974). Sandford adds that Clark’s “most heartrbreaking ballads” usually came on the heels of failed romantic relationships.

“He’s also dealing with themes of philosophy, ecology and spirituality. His voice has a quality of grace, on the acoustic material here, and I don’t use that term lightly. I’m not sure that he ever captured that sound again,” he continues.

“It’s due to Jim Dickson’s forethought that these recordings were preserved. They’re all his that he had ownership of. And he said that Gene never sounded better than the 1972 recordings here.”

Tom Sandford, #1 Clarkophile Photo by Maripe Perez.

And the true hero of this project? John Delgatto of Sierra Records, who unearthed, preserved, and archived these sessions, inheriting Dickson’s source material form the producer (who died in 2011) himself, then working with the Clark Estate.

Sandford also believes that Clark was “leaps and bounds” ahead of songwriting compared to most of his more famous and better known contemporaries—though he admits he’s a “little biased” in that area.

Another aspect of The Lost Studio Sessions is that every song is a complete or almost complete track. There’s no demo or “working it out” sound to any of this. As to why it all stayed in the can, the record’s extensive and informative liner notes note that Gene Clark’s scattered sessionography was littered with “planned, half-realized or abandoned projects.”

“There was bad luck, bad decisions along the way in terms of management. All of this material is not half-assed and it’s well-recorded. And that’s the miracle of this set,” Sandford says. “It’s really kind of astonishing that this material never saw the light of day because so much effort was put into it. Gene put so much effort in. It’s a shame that it didn’t come out, but it’s revelatory for Byrds and Gene Clark fans.”

Gene Clark in the studio. The Jim Dickson Collection/Courtesy of John Delgatto.

Gene Clark had a latter career boost with So Rebellious a Lover, his 1987 collaboration with Carla Olson. It was right on the edge of the burgeoning No Depression/Alt Country movement that was critically well received. And maybe just a tad bit ahead of the curve.

“Gene was always looking forward. He made a conscious decision not to repeat himself on any albums. He wanted new styles, no approaches. White Light is very stark and acoustic. Roadmaster has rich country sounds and No Other is completely bombastic in production that people ever lover or hate,” he says.

“So Rebellious a Lover came out at the right time, it just didn’t catch on. Gene was even big among the Paisley Underground movement of the ‘80s. A lot of people were emulating is look and style,” Sandford continues.

“Had he lived, he would have been embraced by bands like Uncle Tupelo. I’m not sure he would have stayed with the alt country sound. But he passed at precisely the wrong time. It’s a shame he couldn’t have held on longer, because he would have seen true appreciation of his music. And that’s something that eluded him in life.”

A sort of companion release from Liberation Hall release is the 29 track/2 CD The Flying Burrito Brothers: Live in Amsterdam 1972 (the CD and digital versions include five bonus tracks not on the vinyl). This is not the original lineup that appears with Clark on portions of his CD and put out the groundbreaking country rock release The Gilded Palace of Sin and Burrito Deluxe

It’s a loose-feeling show (perhaps reflective of the fact that they hadn’t had a single rehearsal together) that runs the gamut from some of the most recognizable FBB material (“Sin City,” “Christine’s Tune,” “My Uncle,” “The Image of Me”) to country classics (“Sing Me Back Home,” “Six Days on the Road,” “She Thinks I Still Care,” “The Wild Side of Life”).

And many geographically named bluegrass “breakdown” tune. Also Chuck Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven” and the Rolling Stones “Wild Horses”—the latter said to be inspired at least in spirt by Gram Parsons’ influence on the band .

Lead vocalist/guitarist Rick Roberts—who made his debut on the Brothers third album—is prominent with his solo-written “Colorado,” “Four Days of Rain” and “Why Are You Crying.” He would dissolve the band the next year to form Firefall.

The rest of the group here includes Byron Berline (fiddle/vocals), Roger Bush (bass/vocals), Kenny Wertz (guitar/vocals), Alan Munde (banjo/guitar), Eric Dalton (drums) and Don Beck (pedal steel/mandolin). The last three had actually been drafted in to fulfill the band’s last concert bookings in the Netherlands, Sweden, and Denmark, making it the seventh unique lineup in the band’s short history.

The article originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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Martin Barre’s History Class: Jethro Tull 101

Posted on July 15, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
Martin Barre’s show take a journey through Jethro Tull history. Tour Advertisment Graphic.

In the Canon of Classic Rock Warhorse Songs, there are those with instantly recognizable guitar intros (think “Smoke on the Water” or “Iron Man”) or solos (think “Freebird” or “Comfortably Numb”). But an even smaller class boasts both of those aspects (think “Hotel California” and “Layla”).

Martin Barre onstage recently. The Martin Barre Collection.

That last coveted class would absolutely include “Aqualung.” It’s the title track from the 1971 album by Jethro Tull, still their best-selling and most recognizable release. They were both played by Martin Barre, whose tenure with the group (1968-2011) is second in duration only to singer/flautist Ian Anderson, who still fronts it today.

Back in the day, Barre even had an idea for a band T-shirt with the famous six note intro written out musically.

“I drew it out quite neat and told Ian about it, but he was never interested. I didn’t think past it, but of course it’s because it’s not him!” he laughs over Zoom where the 77-year-old just finished up his daily guitar practice. “But I’ve done the shirt myself. It’s part of made me who I am.” The intro is credited to Anderson, while Barre created the solo.

But “Aqualung” may—or may not—be on the setlist when The Martin Barre Band presents “A Brief History of Tull.” The two-hour show will present hits, fan favorites, super deep cuts, and even an acoustic set.

“I’m very respectful of ‘Aqualung.’ But we haven’t played it in months!” he continues. “I do give it a rest every now and again. We swap around songs so there’s a freshness during the tour. I play it when I enjoy playing it, and I enjoy it when I do. I’m never going to play it because I have to.”

Barre says the set list reflects a “summary” of his time with Tull, paying extra attention to tracks that mean a lot to him personally. The current lineup also includes Dan Crisp (lead vocals/guitar), Alan Thomson (bass) and Terl Bryant (drums). To better recreate the Tull sound, several members pitch in on keyboards, and Barre even plays the flute.

“This is a novelty. I’ve always played flute and I have a right to play it. Ian dominating it in Tull sort of sidetracked my flute playing,” he says. “I played flute before Ian even bought one! And I’m enjoying it again.”

Barre can still vividly recall the day in 1968 when he auditioned for Jethro Tull. Original guitarist Mick Abrahams split only a year after the group’s founding and the later release of debut record This Was.

Another potential replacement had even appeared with the band on the Rolling Stones’ famous Rock and Roll Circus film special, but ultimately decided that Tull’s musical direction and stylings weren’t for him. That axe slinger was Tony Iommi, who soon co-founded a little outfit called Black Sabbath. They did OK for themselves.

Still, Barre’s initial audition didn’t go well. At all.

“I had a guitar that was semi-acoustic and unless you had a lot of space, it would howl. The audition was in this basement room and they didn’t hear me, just this horrible sound,” Barre recalls.

“I hadn’t had pennies to shake together, but I had a friend with a solid Gibson electric that I could borrow. So, I went back a second time, and we spent the whole day in a proper rehearsal room. I knew that was the gig for me. I was quite timid back then, so for me to call them back for a second chance, it took a lot of courage.”

Like other Classic Rock groups including Rush and Pink Floyd, the music of Jethro Tull has many, many layers. Both in terms of instrumentation and shifting time signatures, as well as Anderson’s lyrics that can touch on themes ranging from the social, political and sexual to religion, the environment and character studies.

Stylistically, Tull records have dipped into blues, jazz, folk, hard rock, and Elizabethan/Renaissance-era styles. Surprisingly, Barre says two of his favorite Tull records to play on from a guitarist’s perspective were both post-‘70s releases: 1984’s synth-heavy Under Wraps and 1987’s Crest of a Knave.

The latter triggered a torrid controversy when it was awarded a Grammy in 1989 for “Best Hard Rock/Heavy Metal” album, shockingly beating out Metallica’s …And Justice for All.

Even members of Tull were left perplexed by the award, though it’s possible that theirs was simply the only name many Grammy voters recognized on the ballot and checked it off. Assuming they would lose, no Jethro Tull members even attended the ceremony. The whole thing is still used as a comic punchline among music people.

Today on Spotify, with the click of a mouse, one can listen to more than 50 different studio, live, rarity, special edition, and compilation albums from Jethro Tull, along with a dozen Martin Barre solo/collaboration albums. Asked about his thoughts on streaming services, Barre gives them a thumbs up.

“I like it. Music should be accessible to everybody in the same what that nature is,” he offers. “People have always found a way of getting music less expensively, like making cassettes. Someone would buy the vinyl and there would be 20 cassettes made. And I’m not entirely innocent of that!”

Streaming is also a place where both existing and new fans can hear deeper track cuts, like “Big Riff and Mando” from Tull’s 1989 effort Rock Island. It’s a tune particularly close to Barre as it tells the true story of a precious mandolin was unwillingly separated from.

“It got stolen from a gig. Some kind climbed through the roof of the dressing room and took it! I was devastated because it was handmade for me by Paul Hamer. I was really upset because it was pretty irreplaceable,” he says.

Barre went to a local radio station in the city and pleaded on-air for its return, emotionally relaying how much the instrument meant to him. Soon afterward, an anonymous source mailed it in to the station and Barre was reunited the mandolin.

Where his ire is raised has more to do with making a living as a musician outside of record sales and royalties. And it’s no secret that for most bands and performers today from the most popular to the unknown, your career is playing live.

“It’s a struggle. The super successful artists are making crazy money, and at the other end is a lot of bands playing for nothing. We’re sort of in the middle,” Barre says.

“I would love to have more money to bring more people on the road, a bigger band with horn players and girl singers. And a good crew. Right now, we have four band members and only two crew. But we make a big noise and people work their asses off.”

As for Tull, when Anderson dissolved the band in 2011 but reconstituted it for a 50th anniversary tour in 2018, Barre was pointedly not invited to return. When the Houston Press spoke with Anderson in 2021, he commented that he was fine—mostly—with Barre’s various recent Tullcentric-themed tours and shows.

“He should be!” Barre laughs. “I’m promoting Jethro Tull’s music. I respect his songwriting, but I also respect that we were a duo like Jimmy Page and Robert Plant or Keith Richards and Mick Jagger. It was a magic formula. It took two. I’m a lesser vehicle because of it, and so is Ian. But so be it. I’ve done my apprenticeship.”

Surprising to many, despite their decades of commercial and critical success, Jethro Tull is not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (and they happen to be the #1 snub on this writer’s list). For his part, Barre—like Anderson—is nonplussed about the exclusion.

“I don’t think about it,” he says. “I like accolades like any other human being, and I’ve had some in polls for top guitarists. But if it happens, it will be nice.”

Well, if this guitar thing doesn’t work out for Martin Barre, he could probably go back to practicing in the field of his first, pre-musical, career choice: architecture.

“I’d love to be an architect today! They can build buildings that are amazing!” Barre laughs. “In the ‘60s, it was square boxes like building a motel. Now, you can build an incredible house. I’ve still got my tools. Protractors and slide rules!”

For more on Martin Barre, visit MartinBarre.com

This interview originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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Southern Rockers The Atlanta Rhythm Section Pick a Peachy Biography

Posted on June 28, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
The Atlanta Rhythm Section in 1977: J.R. Cobb, Ronnie Hammond, Barry Bailey, Paul Goddard, Robert Nix and Dean “Ox” Daughtry. Polydor Records/Wikimedia Commons.

They are never mentioned in the same breath as “Southern Rock” contemporaries like the Allman Brothers Band, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Marshall Tucker Band, or Molly Hatchet. They did not have an extroverted lead singer, and many casual fans would be hard pressed to recall any of their names. They scored several softer, more pop-leaning hits than those hell-raising entities mentioned above. And they definitely did not “jam” and only occasionally “boogied.”

But pound-for-pound, in terms of musical craftsmanship and understated song skill, The Atlanta Rhythm Section just might have been the Best Band from the South. And that’s according to no less a Southern Rock light than Lynyrd Skynyrd’s front man, Ronnie Van Zant.

The story of the group—along with what came before and after for its members—it told expertly and (mostly) fully in The Atlanta Rhythm Section: The Authorized Biography (256 pp., $29.99, Schiffer Publishing) by Willie B. Moseley. Moseley, a music journalist, guitarist, and senior writer for Vintage Guitar magazine, relies on first-hand interviews with bandmembers, their families, road crew, record company and management folks, and fellow musicians, along with the band’s archives and plenty of cool ephemera.

The genesis of “ARS” (as fans know them by shorthand) started with Buddy Buie. An extroverted songwriter/producer and seemingly endless source of energy, he had penned (with guitarist J.R. Cobb) hits for the Classics IV including “Spooky” and “Traces.” Eager to start his own thing, he began scouting for and working with talent from a wide variety of Southern and (especially Georgia-based) acts including Roy Orbison’s former backing group, the Candy Men (also a breeding ground for ARS members).

Eventually, a group of studio hot shots began to gather, including Cobb, fellow guitarist Barry Bailey, bassist Paul Goddard, keyboardist Dean “Ox” Daughtry, drummer Robert Nix, and vocalist Rodney Justo. After Buie opened his own Studio One recording studio in the smallish town of Doraville, Georgia, the next step was for these studio musicians to come together and create their own music (Toto would have a similar origin story of hired-guns-turned-actual-band). And thus, the tongue-in-cheek and on-purpose generic sounding The Atlanta Rhythm Section was born (the alternate name was…Blackbush).

Their 1972 self-titled debut didn’t go anywhere and Justo—frustrated by lack of opportunities and with a better paying gig lined up—left the group. He was replaced by the shy Ronnie Hammond, who would later struggle with alcohol and depression. ARS finally got a minor hit with an ode to their hometown, “Doraville,” off their third album, the cynically titled Third Annual Pipe Dream. It would take another three albums for “So Into You” to become their first major chart buster.

Hits continued through most of the ‘70s with “Imaginary Lover,” “I’m Not Gonna Let It Bother Me Tonight,” “Champagne Jam,” “Do It Or Die,” “Jukin’” and a cover of “Spooky.” They even played on the White House lawn in 1978 for President Jimmy Carter (a noted Southern Rock fan) at son Chip’s 28th birthday party.

Moseley’s attention to detail is very impressive, as well as the number of voices he has represented. He also details many individual concerts—especially during the band’s heyday. Though one wishes for more quotes, even archival ones, from some of the members, Hammond and Nix highest on the list.

And rather than a boring recitation of dates and set lists, Moseley mines revealing and interesting anecdotes throughout. Like when the band toured Japan and went into a sushi restaurant. They—as custom dictated—had to leave their footwear at the door. Soon, a sizable contingent of the regular customers were gawking and pointing at the many pairs of seemingly impossibly large cowboy boots the band and crew had left sitting there.

The band’s fortunes would fall in the ‘80s and ‘90s as members left and sometimes came back, including even Justo, who’s had the lead singer spot permanently since 2011 as the band continues to tour. With Daughtry’s death last year, all of the “classic” six-man lineup are dead.

If anything, this solid and detailed book will encourage readers to delve into the rich and worthy catalog of the Atlanta Rhythm Section (especially the years on Polydor Records) beyond the familiar Classic Rock hits. And isn’t that a prime goal of any music biography?

This article originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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Fender (String) Bender Dave Mason Starts a Traffic Jam

Posted on May 29, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
Dave Mason today. Photo by Chris Jensen/Courtesy of MADInkPR.

If Houstonians of all races, creeds, colors, political beliefs, Spotify playlists and Wordle skill levels can agree on one thing, it’s that traffic jams suck. Unless of course, the “Traffic Jam” is the umbrella title of a tour by Classic Rock singer/guitarist Dave Mason, wordplay on the name of his former band.

Dave Mason onstage recently. Photo by Chris Jensen/Courtesy of MADInkPR.

He—along with co-founding members of Traffic—Steve Winwood (vocals/keyboards/guitar), Jim Capaldi (drums) and Chris Wood (sax/flute/keyboards) were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of fame in 2004.

But according to Mason, a disagreement with Winwood’s team over which instrument Mason would play scuttled a chance for the surviving three members to share the stage one more time (Wood died in 1983) on their epic tribute to radio DJs, “Dear Mr. Fantasy.”

But Mason did get to lead the All-Star Jam at the end of the ceremony with “Feelin’ Alright,” a tune he wrote at the age of 19 which has since gone on to become a Classic Rock standard It’s been covered by everyone from Joe Cocker, Three Dog Night and Grand Funk Railroad to the Fifth Dimension and the Jackson 5.

Mason himself went in and out of the band over the years but has added more Traffic songs to his current setlist due to popular demand. Dave Mason’s Traffic Jam will stop at the Height Theater this spring on April 12.

“There’s just more interest in Traffic period whether it’s my period or Steve’s. A lot of it still stands up—and some of it doesn’t!” Mason says over the phone. “A lot of the earlier stuff I wrote sounds time-dated now, but I was just learning how to write songs. I tried to make themes more timeless as I went on. I mean, ‘Feelin’ Alright,’ someone just played it at Bonnaroo. Every bar band has played that song at some point or another!” [Note: That would be My Morning Jacket at the 2023 event].

With this year’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees just coming out, we ask Mason who he thinks is not in there that should be.

“Me!” he says without hesitation. “As a solo artist. Damn right!”

Dave Mason’s regular setlist is a mixture of Traffic tunes from across the group’s discography, solo hits (“Only You Know and I Know,” “Look at You Look at Me,” “World in Changes,” “Shouldn’t Have Took More Than You Gave”), covers (“All Along the Watchtower”) and newer songs (“Good 2 U”).

Another new(ish) song is his most recent release, a collaboration with blues singer/guitarist Jon Bonamassa on a different arrangement of “Dear Mr. Fantasy.” It will appear on Mason’s new record featuring material from over the years and available at his live shows, Shady Blues. Bonamassa also appears on a second track.

“I had that one for 18 years just sitting on my computer and Joe came up to the house and finished the song with me,” he offers. “And some tracks were on other projects, but I’ve remixed and redone them. There’s also a blues version of [Traffic’s] ‘The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.’”

The UK-born Mason will also play some dates this summer with the Mike Love-led version of the Beach Boys, with whom he’s shared stages with dating back on the ‘70s.

Mason’s fellow countryman, Who drummer Keith Moon, was famously obsessed with the Beach Boys growing up, as they represented a lifestyle of sun, surf, beaches and bikini-clad girls that must have seemed like another planet to the boy of London and Wembley.

Asked if he felt the same way, Mason says his interest in the band came with their more mature material.

“The music was…I was more into things like ‘God Only Knows’ and ‘Good Vibrations’ than the earlier stuff. And Brian Wilson was just an amazing writer. I know it will be interesting!” he says.

“But for me personally, it’s just another show, and that’s the way I treat it. I’ve done shows with so many different acts over the years! But it will be fun. And I get to go on early and get off stage and get on the bus. Me, [Mason’s wife] Winnie, and the dog!”

Dave Mason Photo by Chris Jensen/Courtesy of MADInkPR.

One closer friend of Mason’s is Fleetwood Mac co-founder/drummer Mick Fleetwood. They’ve known each other for decades, and Mason even had a short stint playing and recording with the Mac in the mid-1990s.

Fleetwood—a more or less permanent resident of Hawaii—had the restaurant that bears his name burn to the ground in the August 2023 Lahaina wildfires. Mason has a house in Wailea, but it is on the other side of the island of Maui from Lahaina.

Behind the keyboards on the Traffic Jam tour will be a familiar face and mop of hair to Classic Rock diehards: Mark Stein, singer/keyboardist for Vanilla Fudge. He and Mason also go back decades, and Stein was a musical and songwriting contributor to Mason’s 1980 album Old Crest on a New Wave. It featured a superstar guest vocalist in none other than Michael Jackson on “Save Me.”

Stein told me in 2020 that he and Mason were recording in the same studio as the Jacksons, when he found Michael in the hallway by the soda machine and talked him into appearing on the song.

“My old keyboard player didn’t want to go on the road anymore, so we got Mark. He’s great and still sings his ass off!” Mason laughs. “And of course, we do Vanilla Fudge’s ‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On.’ We have to! It’s a classic record, and his arrangement is so great to do live.”

The band will be rounded out by Mason’s longtime guitarist/vocalist Johnne Sambataro, percussionist Marty Fera, and bassist/vocalist Ray Cardwell.

Another former collaborator—albeit distantly—was Jim Gordon. The insanely talented but actual schizophrenic drummer, who spent decades in prison for murdering his mother and who died there last year, is the subject of a recent biography.

“He was on my solo record Alone Together and they he’s played with Delaney and Bonnie. Jim Keltner and Jim Gordon were the two big session guys around L.A.,” Mason remembers.

“And I played with Delaney and Bonnie for a while, as did Jim. They had a big hit with [Mason’s song] ‘Only You Know and I Know.’ I never really knew Jim, but he was a great drummer. Probably one of the best I ever played with.”

Gordon and Mason were also together in Traffic very briefly, both appearing on 1971’s live album Welcome to the Canteen.

Finally, in addition to Shady Blues, Mason hopes to have his autobiography, Only You Know and I Know, for sale at the merchandise booth. Written with music journalist Chris Epting, it’s been delayed for quite a while, and Mason is now self-publishing it after he says the original publisher, BMG, decided to get out of the book business.

And he’ll have something else to compete for your sheckels.

“I have vinyl! It’s making a comeback!” he laughs. “They’re desperately trying to move the world into these codes of zeros and ones and non-fungible items. A world that doesn’t exist. You need something that’s tangible you can look at and touch. And there seems to be an interest in vinyl again.”

This interview originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

For more on Dave Mason, visit DaveMasonMusic.com

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The Rolling Stones Open Hackney Diamonds Tour in Houston: My Review!

Posted on May 1, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero

The venerable Classic Rockers opened their 16-city/19-show North American Hackney Diamonds tour right here in my hometown of Houston at NRG Stadium.

I was very honored to get an assignment to cover it for Uncut, the great UK magazine/website. Click below to see my review:

The Rolling Stones – NRG Stadium, Houston, April 28, 2024
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Book Dissects the Music—and Madness—of A-List Classic Rock Drummer Jim Gordon

Posted on April 10, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
The short-lived Derek & the Dominos: Carl Radle, Bobby Whitlock, Eric Clapton and Jim Gordon. Record cover detail.

He was arguably rock’s greatest drummer, or at least on the short list. An inventive percussionist who lifted about everything he played on, he often came up with his drum licks, beats and fills on the spot in the studio or on stage.

He played with three of Classic Rock’s greatest collectives: Delaney & Bonnie and Friends, Joe Cocker’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen and—most memorably—as one of Eric Clapton’s playing pieces in Derek & the Dominos.

As a journeyman session musician, his skin thumping can be heard on a wide-ranging array of hit singles from “God Only Knows” (Beach Boys), “Everybody’s Talkin’” (Harry Nilsson), “Power to the People” (John Lennon) and “What Is Life” (George Harrison) to “Summer Breeze” (Seals and Crofts), “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” (Steely Dan) and “Sundown” (Gordon Lightfoot). He also played the actual beat on “The Beat Goes On” from Sonny & Cher.

But unless you’re a liner note reader, you likely don’t know the name of Jim Gordon.

And if you Google him, you’ll see one shocking non-musical entry in his bio: On June 3, 1983, after suffering for years from paranoid schizophrenia and hearing voices, he fatally bludgeoned with a hammer and then stabbed his 71-year-old mother to death. The next year, he was sentenced to prison, eventually landing at the California Medical Facility. And that’s where he died in 2023 at the age of 77.

Utilizing first-hand interviews, court and medical records, and music histories, noted music journalist Joel Selvin unravels Gordon’s life, legacy, and liabilities in Drums & Demons: The Tragic Journey of Jim Gordon (288 pp., $28.99, Diversion Books).

“Jim is qualified to be on any elite list of ‘Greatest Drummers’ because he expanded the vocabulary of the drums beyond belief,” Selvin says via Zoom in his home office, waving a lit cigar in hand and sitting in front of shelves of vinyl records and wall posters of old rock, R&B, and blues performers.

Jim Gordon as an 18-year-old drummer in 1964. Gordon Family Personal Collecton/Courtesy of Amy Gordon.

“It’s my theory—and I’ve talked this over with doctors—is that his almost supernatural ability to divide time intuitively and precisely comes from the same electro chemical set up in his brain that his disease came from. I’m also quite clear that when he played drums, he was clear of the disease.”

So in demand was Gordon for session work that it wasn’t uncommon for him to play three sessions a day, working on three to five songs per session, six days a week, for years.

“He was there to make records hits,” Selvin notes. “Jim Gordon did not just keep time and hold the backbeat. Jim Gordon moved the drums into the fabric of the musical composition.”

Selvin says Gordon’s story was “lodged in his brain” for years. But it was only after an editor suggested that his next book be about “rock and roll and crime” did the writing wheels get set in motion. Four years later, he had already turned in the manuscript when he was hit with the news: Jim Gordon had died.

Selvin had previously reached out to composer and Gordon confidante Mike Post (who penned the themes to TV shows The Rockford Files and Hill Street Blues) to participate or act as a liaison to the family which included Jim’s first wife Jill and their daughter Amy, to no avail. But the day after Gordon died, Post reached out to Selvin (who was on vacation at the time) saying that the family wanted help with putting out a press release. The experience with Selvin went well, so they decided to participate with new interviews and opened family archives for the book. It allowed Selvin to add some more depth and detail to Drums & Demons.

“They’ve all read the book, and are powerfully affected by it,” Selvin says. “Jill said she can stop beating herself up now for thinking she didn’t help Jim enough. Jim couldn’t be helped. And for Amy, this was majorly revelatory. They were all in the blast zone of this incredible trauma.”

As the years went passing by in the ‘60s into the ‘70s, Gordon began to hear voices in his head, mostly negative and full of anger and criticism (the loudest belonging to his somewhat overbearing mother). He began to have severe mood swings, and a steady, heavy diet of drugs and alcohol didn’t help.

In one infamous incident during the Mad Dogs & Englishmen tour, while the troupe was partying in a hotel room, Gordon asked then-girlfriend, singer Rita Coolidge, to step out in the hallway. They “needed to talk.” She thought he was going to propose marriage.

Instead, he lashed out with an unexpected hard punch to her face, with enough force that it threw her body up against the wall before she crumpled to the ground. Returning to the party, he uttered “I just hit Rita.” The party didn’t stop, though one backup singer insisted that Coolidge be taken to the hospital. They continued their on-and-off affair.

It wasn’t the last injustice that Gordon would inflict upon Coolidge, and it concerns perhaps his most famous recorded bit: the piano coda on “Layla,” which features both himself and Dominos keyboardist Bobby Whitlock in a composite edit. Or, if you’re a fan of the movie Goodfellas, it’s the musical background the “Dead Bodies Scene”).

Credible evidence and firsthand recollections suggest that the music was actually Coolidge’s, from her song-in-progress called “Time.” Gordon outright lifted it and to this day, the songwriting credits only name “Eric Clapton/Jim Gordon.” Selvin is not surprised that neither Clapton nor his management have ever altered the credits (and thus the royalties) in the ensuing decades.

“Jim’s outbursts of violence [with girlfriends and wives] were not like an Ike Turner thing in using violence to control a female. They were part of a roiling personality that exploded,” Selvin says. “It’s of no small irony that the rock scene was accommodating—hospitable even!—to drug addicts, alcoholics, wife beaters and sexual deviants, but they couldn’t handle someone who was genuinely mentally ill. And [Gordon’s] psychotic behavior just melted into the background.”

Author Joel Selvin Photo by Deanne Fitzmaurice.

As the years progressed and the internal voices got louder, Gordon started losing session work due to unreliability and general angry/weird behavior while checking in and out of both medical and psychiatric facilities. He’d also go through cycles of moving all his gold records and drum kits to a dumpster by his home, vowing to get rid of them. Only to have second thoughts hours later and carry them all back inside.

In his research, Selvin had to learn almost as much about mental health and medical conditions as music. And that first one gave him the biggest surprise.

“There’s one big really fucking major thing I learned, Bob. Schizophrenia occurs in one in one hundred of the general population,” he says

“By comparison, multiple sclerosis is one in every ten thousand. [Schizophrenia] the flu of mental health. And half of those with it can’t respond to treatment. Those are the people sleeping under highways. And Jim’s case, it was about as severe and extreme as you can get.”

Selvin adds that in terms of the actual matricide, Jim Gordon wasn’t killing his mother so much as he was “extinguishing the voice in his head.”

“He lived in a different reality. The cacophony of voices, the headaches, the inability to bond with other people, and having no empathy or connectiveness to [other people]…it was all there.”

Selvin doesn’t think that “the needle has moved too much on treating schizophrenia” in 2024 compared to the ‘70s and ‘80s, but he notes that the recovery community is far more involved and organized. He also says there’s more awareness of the connection between mental illness and drug and alcohol use.

By the early ‘80s, the musician who played with a pantheon of Rock Gods and had every whim catered as part of the lifestyle was reduced to playing with a pickup band in a Santa Monica dive bar for $30 a night. And then, the murder.

For the author Drums & Demons, this project has stuck with him in a way nothing else has in his entire career. “Jim’s story really got to me. I saw into his troubled heard and realized how little compassion he was shown in his life. It became really emotional for me,” Selvin sums up.

“I like my books fine, but this one has some significance that none of my other works have. As a society, as a culture, we need to deal more honestly with mental illness,” he continues.

“Jim was in this golden place. Tall, handsome, engaged to a beautiful blond dancer in California, pulling down huge money and making important records. He was scheduled to have a wonderful, happy, and extraordinary life. But it couldn’t have been taken off the rails more thoroughly, completely, and tragically than it was.”

Originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

For more on Joel Selvin, visit JoelSelvin.com

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A Beatles Insider Gets His Own Story in a Titanic Tome

Posted on January 13, 2024 by Bob Ruggiero
Mal Evans with Paul McCartney in Tokyo, Japan, during the Beatles 1966 tour. The Malcolm Frederick Evans Archives/Courtesy of Dey St. Books.

Non-Beatlemaniacs who saw Peter Jackson’s 2021 Beatles documentary Get Back may have wondered just who the large, bespectacled gentleman was often in the background. He can be seen setting up equipment, writing down lyrics for bandmembers, or even fetching tea.

Later, during the climactic rooftop concert, he acts as a buffer between the Beatles and local police officers intending to shut the proceedings down. Had he not been there, one of the most famous outdoor concerts in history could have been a lot shorter.

That 6’ 3”, 205-lb. frame belonged to one Mal Evans, whose history with the group stretched back to 1962. He was working as a bouncer at Liverpool’s Cavern Club, where he befriended the then-unknown and quite scruffy foursome (his own favorite artist was Elvis Presley).

Over the years, Evans filled a plethora of roles: road manager, equipment lugger (singlehandedly lifting heavy amps and instruments), bodyguard, secret keeper, fixer, and procurer of tea, guitar picks, women, and weed for the group. He could also add confidant, travel companion, and even artistic collaborator to the mix.

Now, the life of a beloved figure in Beatles history is told by one of the group’s most expert experts in Kenneth Womack’s Living the Beatles Legend: The Untold Story of Mal Evans (592 pp., $50, Dey Street Books).

When he died, Evans left a recently- manuscript for a memoir. He also had more than 2,000 never-before-seen pictures, lyrics sheets, drawings, receipts, memorabilia, and his own detailed diaries—most of which has never been seen by anyone until now.

“When this stuff showed up, it just blew my mind!” Womack says via Zoom from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland where he was scheduled to give a presentation. A surprise guest joined him on the video—Mal Evans’ son, Gary.

Gary knew he’d found the right author for the job after decades of inquiries about the contents of those battered banker’s boxes.

Mal Evans protects Paul McCartney from an overzealous fan at San Francisco’s Cow Palace. The Malcolm Frederick Evans Archives/Courtesy of Dey St. Books.

“This guy, for me, is just the most wonderful human being, and with the most beautiful brain to do this job,” he notes. “It’s a testament to Ken that my dad’s legacy will be there. He’s been on the periphery, but now he’s front and center. The Ringo Starrs have aligned.”

Womack also conducted more than 200 original interviews for the book, many with subjects who had never spoken on the record before.

Longing to be an entertainer himself, Evans was ecstatic (despite freezing temperatures) to appear as the “Channel Swimmer” in the Beatles film Help! He also threw back and forth ideas with Paul McCartney during the birth of concepts for the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album and Magical Mystery Tour film.

Evans even contributed some lines a few songs, most notably supposedly “Fixing a Hole” (though he did not receive any songwriting credit). Finally, he also brought a group named the Iveys—soon to change their name to Badfinger—to the band’s Apple Records. Only to see any role as A&R man or manager wrested from him by a vengeful Allen Klein, then serving as the Beatles’ manager.

Mal Evans (left) with Beatles George Harrison and John Lennon during the recording of the “Let it Be” album at Twickenham Studios, January 1969. Screenshot from “Get Back.”

Houston pops up a couple of times in the book. Womack notes that the flat, wide-brimmed black bolero-style had that John Lennon famously wears in the last-ever group photo session was actually Mal’s, purchased in 1964 at Stelzig Saddlery in Houston (for the shoot, it was wrapped with a purple band by Mal’s wife Lil).

The other time was for an incident less charming, and points to the dark side to all that black and white footage of screaming teenage girls in the shows and on the streets.

In the frantic touring days of 1964/65, Mal would contact local police about providing enough security for the group, where things could get very hairy very quickly (and indeed, the book details many such time where the fans and the group themselves barely escaped serious injury).

When the band’s plane landed in Houston on August 19, 1965, for a pair of shows at the Sam Houston Coliseum, it was greeted by more than 2,000 frantic local fans. In their excitement, they swarmed the tarmac and indeed the plane itself—which was still running before the pilot shut it off as fans clambered all over it.

Trapped inside, the Beatles were eventually evacuated via forklift, but now exposed and were pelted with all sorts of items, thrown in adulation. A rough drop to the ground actually caused manager Brian Epstein to injure his spine.

And once they reconvened at the hotel, a furious John Lennon noted “This always bloody well happens in Texas! I told Brian before we left that we should double-check the security arrangements for Houston!”

“It’s incredible how many times he would warn city authorities. He’d go ‘What do you mean you’re only going to send two constables? And they just wouldn’t get it,” Womack says. “And that Houston story was pretty dangerous. There are so many wonderful, good sides to Beatlemania, but there is also a violent side.”

The book does great services in addressing the two primary dichotomies in the life of Mal Evans. The first is the balance between his roles as the band’s true friend, but also employee (and often, servant).

Ringo Starr and Mal Evans during the recording of the “Let it Be” album at Twickenham Studios, January 1969. Screenshot from “Get Back.”

Womack tells a story of one late night when John Lennon decided he needed some new footwear and simply commanded “Socks, Mal!” Evans went away and dutifully reappeared in the middle of the night with a packet of brightly colored socks.

“Mal had a fundamental problem. People wanted to portray him as this gofer and oaf, but he was very smart, well-read, engaged, and a great conversationalist that folks were drawn to,” Womack says.

“But he was the guy they had to have, the guy with the Rolodex who could make things happen. And every time Mal got an opportunity for himself, the Beatles would draw him back into the studio.”

The other dichotomy is the pull Mal felt between wanting to be a good husband to wife Lil and father to children Gary and Julie, but then dive head-long into the bacchanalia that surrounded the Beatles, especially when it came to women. Lil would empty Mal’s luggage after a tour to wash dirty clothes and find notes from women with phone numbers and addresses from all over the world.

Mal Evans as the “Channel Swimmer” who asks directions to the White Cliffs of Dover. Screenshot from “Help!”

And as Womack notes, when a decision had to be made between the needs of and spending time with his family versus the Beatles, he usually chose the latter.

“When I was seven, I knew my parents’ marriage had failed. So, it was kind of a sham that it went on for another almost six years before he left us for his girlfriend in early ‘74,” Gary says, choking up a bit.

“I said to him ‘Dad, you’re going to leave us.’ And he couldn’t even be honest about that. I loved the guy so much, but he treated us very badly. And I don’t think many women would have put up with that for so long.”

Mal Evans died a sudden and shocking death in 1976 at the age of 40 when he was fatally shot by Los Angeles police responding to disturbance call. A reportedly depressed and drugged Evans was found with his rifle, refused to put it down, and then purportedly raised it at officers before the fatal fusillade.

Today, with Living the Beatles Legend behind them (though a second volume featuring photos and memorabilia is on the way), both men have had epiphanies. For Womack, it’s discovering how “dynamic and intellectually curious” Mal Evans was. For his son Gary, he learned “1000% more” about his father’s life.

For a band that broke up 53 years ago, the Beatles never seem to be out of public consciousness with new projects constantly popping up.

Whether it was the Beatles Anthology, the 1 compilation, or Cirque de Soleil Love show to the Peter Jackson Get Back documentary and now the current Last Beatles Song “Now and Then” which at the time of this writing is #1 in the UK and #7 in the U.S. The Beatles—in a way unlike any of their contemporaries or bands since—are always alive.

“It’s not driven by Baby Boomers and Gen X. We’ll have social media influencers at our talk tonight who are 20,” Womack says. “And this story will be told in new and different ways forever. And new things will be discovered.”

Finally, Womack has a local connection—he grew up in the Houston suburb of Kingwood. He’ll be back in town early next year for a talk and hopes to bring someone special along for the journey.

“I’m trying to get Gary to come,” Womack laughs. “He’s never seen the Alamo!”

But alas, Gary Evans will have a different destination in mind.

“My wife wants to go to Texas to see the biggest Buc-ee’s!” he says. “They do have the cleanest restrooms in the U.S.!”

For more on Living the Beatles Legend and Kenneth Womack, visit KennethWomack.com

This interview originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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Boogie & Blues Rockers Foghat Keep Up Their Sonic Mojo

Posted on December 26, 2023 by Bob Ruggiero
Foghat in 2023: Rodney O’Quinn (Bass), Bryan Bassett (Lead/Slide Guitar), Roger Earl (Drums) and Scott Holt (Lead Vocals/Lead Guitar). Photo by Jake Coughlin.

Turn on any Classic Rock radio station—terrestrial, satellite or streaming—and you’re sure to hear something by Foghat. The UK-bred boogie blues band scored in the ’70s with hits like “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” “Drivin’ Wheel,” “Fool for the City,” “Stone Blue,” “Third Time Lucky (First Time I Was a Fool)” and of course signature tune “Slow Ride.”

Cut to 2023 and the band, which currently features original founding member Roger Earl (drums), along with Bryan Bassett (lead guitar), Rodney O’Quinn (bass) and brand-new member Scott Holt (lead vocals/guitar) is still on the road and still making new music in the studio. Foghat has just released their 18th studio record, Sonic Mojo (Foghat Records).

“It’s in your DNA as an artist and a musician to continue being creative,” Earl says from the band’s rehearsal studio in DeLand, Florida. “That doesn’t just stop. And our fans are very tolerant of us with the [new material]. You carry on and you play. That’s what you do.”

The record features 12 tracks, evenly divided by originals (“Drivin’ On,” “She’s a Little Bit of Everything,” “Time Slips Away,” “I Don’t Appreciate You”) and covers (Willie Dixon’s “Let Me Love You Baby,” Howlin’ Wolf’s “How Many More Years,” B.B. King’s “She’s Dynamite” and even “Song for the Life” from “the Houston Kid,” Rodney Crowell).

Those first three originals were co-writes between the band and Kim Simmonds, co-founder of ‘60s-born British blues rock band Savoy Brown who—like Earl—the only member to appear on every album. The pair first met when Earl was hired for the drummer’s seat in Savoy Brown way back in 1967. It was an encounter and process he remembers to this day.  

“I auditioned and didn’t get the job, but they called me back a month or two later to try again, and I did!” Earl says.

“I turned up at the Nag’s Head pub in Southwest London and played for well over two hours. I started packing up the drums and they said, ‘Where are you going?’ I told them I had a day job. I was a commercial artist. And they said ‘We’re playing in Birmingham tonight. Welcome to the band, Rog!’”

Earl further says that he and Simmonds never had a cross word or argued, even when he and lead singer/guitarist “Lonesome” Dave Peverett left Savoy Brown together to form Foghat in 1971 with another Savoy Brown alumni, bassist Tony Stevens, and lead guitarist Rod “The Bottle” Price.

And though Savoy Brown only had three charting singles in the U.S. (though none cracking the Top 60) with “I’m Tired,” “Tell Mama” and “Run to Me,” they were much more well-regarded in their native UK. And Earl says that leader Simmonds wasn’t even that upset when he lost his entire group.

“He was OK with it. He fired Tony for some reason—Tony was always getting fired! And the band was doing great, earning between $7,000 and $15,000 a night, and that was a lot!” Earl recalls (those numbers roughly $53,000 to $114,000 in 2023). “But we never got paid for albums, recordings, writing, or co-writing, so it was time for a change.”

Earl says a meeting with Simmonds and his brother Harry (the group’s manager) didn’t go as they wanted. At a second meeting with just Harry, the pair informed him that they were leaving the group but would stay as long as Kim wanted.

“Harry Simmonds blackballed us in England. And he said we’d never work in the U.S. again, but he didn’t have that clout,” Earl laughs. “It didn’t stop us. It wasn’t Kim that was doing that. And we [reconnected] in 1976 and remained friends.”

Simmonds had played on a previous Foghat record, 2016’s Under the Influence, and expressed an interest in writing some new material with the group, which he did.

Unfortunately, Simmonds died in December of 2022 from colon cancer at the age of 75. He had been ill for some time, so was not able to actually play on any of the Sonic Mojo material he’d had a hand in creating. I spoke with him in 2017.

“It was very sad. I wasn’t able to visit him, still because of the COVID nightmare,” Earl says. “And there was a time I couldn’t even call him because they wouldn’t let any calls go through. I don’t know what that was about. Even his wife, Debbie, had a problem. But that’s another story. It’s always sad when you lose someone you’ve known pretty much all your life. He was a brilliant blues guitar player.”

Earl adds that Simmonds and Savoy Brown put out an album of original music “pretty much every year” for more than the past decade, and that example of new creativity also inspired Foghat with Sonic Mojo.

Of the covers on the album, many were selected simply from jams the band had, already familiar to members. But one of the originals—the Hank Williams’ name-invoking “Wish I’d Been There”—took the band in another direction.

Yes, it’s a country song by Foghat, written by all four members and Earl’s brother Colin, who was also a member of one hit wonders Mungo Jerry (“In the Summertime”).

“I’ve always been a Johnny Cash fan and I love country music. And we can all relate to Hank Williams,” he says. “America gave music to the world. This is the land of blues, jazz, country, gospel, folk and rock and roll. It’s a wonderful melting pot of these genres. And that’s one of the reasons that I love this country.”

And it’s been well documented how in the ‘50s and ‘60s young English teens went nuts for American music, put their own twist on it, and brought it back to these shores with bands ranging from the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Who to the Kinks, Cream and even Foghat.

Earl remembers seeing Chicago bluesman like Muddy Waters in his youth, and how he was treated like musical royalty in the UK, playing large venues Across the Pond while at the same time gracing tiny club stages in his home country.

Sonic Mojo also marks the recorded debut of Scott Holt with the band as lead singer/guitarist. But it’s really more of a promotion.

As a hedge against any member of Foghat falling ill or for some reason not able to perform (and thus leaving the band not able to fulfill concert commitments and open to lawsuits and lost income), they agreed in 2014 that each member, including Earl, would have a “stand-in” player to step in when needed.

It worked for Earl when he accidentally fell off a stage in Oklahoma and injured his back, keeping him offstage for a dozen-plus shows (subbing was Bobby Rondinelli, who worked with Blue Oyster Cult, Rainbow, and Quiet Riot). Holt was the “stand-in” for lead vocalist/guitarist Charlie Huhn, who retired last year after more than two decades of service. Though Earl has no idea what he’s up to today.

“Charlie decided he was going to retire and gave us three days’ notice. We were about to start rehearsals and had just released a live record 8 Days on the Road, so it was kind of strange,” Earl, who also spoke with me at the time of the release, says. He noted that Huhn had begun to have vocal and physical issues.

“It’s hard to say, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ or ‘It’s not fun anymore.’ So that’s what I put that down to. I haven’t heard from him since. He [quit] by sending an email to our managers saying he wouldn’t be at rehearsals. Which is kind of weird when you work with somebody for 20 years. I guess we all deal with these things in different ways. I bear him no ill will, and I hope he’s OK.”

As for the now 77-year-old Roger Earl, he has no plans to put down his sticks unless he is forced to. “I have a blast with this band. Foghat has always been about the four of us onstage, whatever the lineup was,” he says.

“Scott brings energy to the band, and he’s a ton of fun to play with. The other day we did a show in El Dorado, Arkansas. And afterwards we were backstage having a glass of wine and he said ‘Isn’t this great! We finish work and people stand up and clap and cheer. How many jobs to you get that at?’ And I think that sums it up rather succinctly!”

For more on Foghat, visit Foghat.com

This interview originally appeared at HoustonPress.com

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