1966

Chaz and the Classics

2011-12-28T20:34:00.000-08:00

Chaz (And The Classics) - "Girl of the 13th Hour"

One of the most unusual live gigs I ever attended was the Chaz Shinn/Coye Wilcox show at the Galena Park Recreation Center on Houston's East Side on October 12, 1992. There was nothing unusual about the performers or music. Chaz played country standards, Elvis's "That's All Right," and closed with "Jesus on the Mainline," to which the appreciative crowd clapped along with as if it were known by heart. (I'd never heard it before.) Coye Wilcox also played a solid set of C&W and bluegrass. What was unusual about it, then? When you only know performers by their old records, they fossilize in your mind -- I therefore was not surprised to hear Coye play country, because that's what his '50s records are, but I was taken aback by Chaz Shinn doing the same thing, since I only knew him from his late '60s garage-psych singles. To have them on the same bill therefore was a bit jarring at first glance, like advertising Sonny Burns and the Bubble Puppy together. Of course, I should've known better -- everybody in Texas eventually comes back to country music.

Chaz and the Classics are not one of the better remembered '60s rock bands from Houston. In fact, had it not been for this 2:31 whirlwind of mayhem from 1967, they probably would not be known at all. That's a shame. "Girl of the 13th Hour" somehow missed "canonical" '60s status among collectors by being excluded from the early Texas comps (Flashback Vol. 1-6, Acid Visions), only making it to a wider public in 1984 via Highs in the Mid-Sixties, Vol. 11. Original copies are rare and expensive today, but the song can now be accessed in a variety of formats including a YouTube video.

If you think that "Chaz and the Classics" has a flashy but unmistakably early '60s ring to it (like "Kenny and the Kasuals"), you would be correct. The Classics were formed in 1964 and, as their early business card shows, they played not only rock 'n' roll but western and hootenanny (folk). The band clearly tried to cover all the bases for the working-class East Side greasers who didn't think it the least bit odd to have George Jones' "She Thinks I Still Care" and the Beatles' "I Saw Her Standing There" played back-to-back in the same set. They were simply popular songs and in East/South Houston at least "pop music" included country. These were, after all, the same teenagers who had turned Frankie Miller's "Blackland Farmer" into a dance craze via Garner State Park and The Larry Kane Show.

"When I was a kid, I would write songs and use a small broom as my guitar," Charles "Chaz" Shinn (b. 1946) explained to me in 1992. "I fell in love with the thought of being a guitar player. I guess you can stem it back to Buddy Holly, Elvis, Chuck Berry … one of my favorites was Little Richard. When I was coming up in Junior High School, rock and roll was just getting started."

The reigning bands on the East Side at the time were C.L. and the Pictures, the Jokers, and the Champagne Brothers. While these groups considered their music rock and roll (and even R&B), their records rely heavily on ballads, and even the uptempo sides were not very rocking. Fifties-style rock was passe, and the new models were Roy Orbison, Bobby Vee, Del Shannon, and the like. If they wanted to get really wild, they would throw in some current R&B from groups like the Olympics or the Miracles.

Like many teenagers as well as all adults, Chaz was bewildered by the British Invasion. Winning a songwriting contest earned him a free ticket to perform at the 1964 Teen Fair of Texas, a huge two-week event at the Joe Freeman Coliseum in San Antonio (June 5-14), now only remembered for being the Rolling Stones' second appearance in the US. (Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas were also at the fair, but no one seems to remember them.) So the parents would have something to do, the promoters booked George Jones on the same gig. A "teen rodeo" and as well chimpanzees and the "Fire Twirling Lounsbury Sisters" also appeared. This is the kind of booking that made sense in Texas at the time, but would later serve as surreal comedy in both Bill Wyman's and Keith Richards' autobiographies. (They assumed that this was just how live music always was in Texas.) Chaz witnessed the whole debacle. "They had George Jones up there singing country music for the old folks, and then they said, 'We have this brand new British group that’s never played in Texas.' And out comes these guys with real greasy-looking hair and raggedy clothes – terrible, terrible rags – and they played Beatle music. George Jones looked at them like they were dirt! Everybody out in the audience were all country music lovers. I thought to myself, 'How could anybody get anywhere in music looking like they did and singing Beatle music?' They didn’t even have original stuff at the time." The audience was confused. They didn't want to be impolite, but they hated the Rolling Stones' music, which, being typical white people, they had no clue was merely black R&B covers. So they booed.

Chaz's memory is telling. Photographs of the Rolling Stones exist from this date, and they are wearing vests and pressed slacks, not "terrible rags." He surely wasn't the only attendee who had projected his opinion of the Stones' music on their clothing as well.

Not surprisingly, the Classics' first single displays zero English influence, as the titles give away immediately: "You Are the Answer to a Dream" and "Dreamboat Overseas." We would call these "teeners" in collector's parlance -- safe, light songs a la Bobby Vee or somebody like that. Fitting for 1962, they were way out of date when they were recorded at ACA-Gold Star in July, 1965, and released on their own BCS label. (BCS = Boyd C. Shinn, Chaz's dad.)

This was followed in late '66 by "Cindy (I’m A Soldier Now)" on Picture. This is another awkwardly outdated single, perhaps inspired by Sgt. Barry Sadler or similar major label pop muzak. The East Side greasers appreciated stuff like this, but increasingly fewer Houston teenagers did. Chaz blamed it on corrupt DJs. "This was at the time of payola," he said. "We were trying to keep it clean. We were doing it Presley style, where you’d just go into a radio station and say, 'Would you please play my record?' 'Cindy' was played for two weeks."

Picture Records was a label that totally glommed onto the East Side aesthetic, releasing belated rockabilly by Sleepy LaBeef and blue-eyed soul from Gene Thomas and Richard Moreland. Chaz fit in perfectly. There were over 20 singles, but no hits, from Picture in the '60s and '70s. It was ran by a man named Marlon Machart.

"Marlon Machart heard us recording at Gold Star," Chaz said. "He was a store manager at Grant’s 5 and 10 (department store). And he aspired to have a rock and roll group, but he didn’t want to be involved with the drugs. If he could come up with $500, he was going to cut a record. He was a gambler, musically. The Picture label was owned by a number of people. There was an Italian guy who had a lot of influence on Picture. Some people in the recording studio had an influence on Picture." But mostly it was Machart's baby.

Chaz in the Houston Chronicle, late 1966. Click to enlarge. Courtesy Glenn Pitts collection.

Chaz was on the verge of becoming a casualty of the greaser resistance to the British Invasion when somebody gave him an album that forcefully yanked him into the present: The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators. He was floored. Suddenly, he was trying to write lyrics like Tommy Hall and sing like Roky. Over time, he befriended Stacy Sutherland.

"With Roky, you could know him, but he wouldn’t recognize you the next day," he remembered. "Roky didn’t want to talk a lot, but Stacy Sutherland did. We were friends. A friend of mine, John Guess, kind of milled around with all of the bands that were going into the IA Studio. He brought Stacy over and we talked at length one time. Man, I loved Tommy Hall’s lyrics."

Thus, Chaz largely skipped the British Invasion but went directly into psychedelia, and "Girl of the 13th Hour" was born. Time was booked at Jones Sound Studio on January 6, 1967. This was around the same time that Neal Ford and the Fanatics did "Gonna Be My Girl" and the Outcasts laid down "1523 Blair" in the same room. The time was right: "I called up Marlon and said, 'I got a song that sounds like the13th Floor Elevators.'"

Many garage and soul bands were attracted to Jones Sound in the late sixties, perhaps because of Jones himself. "Doyle Jones was a real honest engineer," Chaz said. "If you talked to him and said, 'Doyle, what do you think of this song?,' he’d rate it right on the spot. 'A' or 'B' or 'It’s not going to fly.' He’d tell you, even after you’d spent all of your money on it, and you were so happy about it, he’d just look at you and go, 'Chaz, you know, it ain’t gonna go.'"

The weird noise overdubbed on the record? "I was trying to get a sound that had that same kind of electric jug. The jug that Tommy used sounded almost human. I wanted a 'human' sound that wasn’t his sound (i.e., a special effect on the record that wasn’t obviously electronic), but just as weird. And this guy who played organ with us for a short period got this comb and put a piece of tissue paper over it, and when he blew into the comb, it’d make this noise. He said, 'If I laid down and I started making this sound, and you started pounding me in the stomach real hard, how would that sound?' So we did it, and I said, 'That’s the sound I’m looking for.'" The X factor was this instrument, which Chaz jokingly dubbed the “psychecomb.” Tommy Hall would have appreciated it, I'm sure. The crashing sound at the beginning is the reverb unit of a Farfisa organ.

"Doyle Jones just broke down laughing. I said, 'Doyle, how do you rate this song?' He said, 'Chaz, I don’t even know what I’d rate it. It leaves me completely dumbfounded. It might fly, and it might not.' And it didn’t fly." Though it received little or no airplay on KILT and KNUZ, "Girl of the 13th Hour" rates alongside similar efforts like the Heard's "Exit 9" and the Iguanas' "I Can Only Give You Everything" in the mini-genre of Elevators-inspired singles.

Hey you! Girl of the 13th hour
Once you reigned in vain
Mention of your name
In wealth and power

Hey you! Girl of the 13th hour
You kept on the run
You kept having fun
With the bad things you have done
You've earned the name of the 13th hour

Hey you! Girl of the 13th hour
No longer lives in vain
Only lives in shame
And answers to the name:
"The naughty girl of the 13th hour"

Not exactly "Slip Inside This House," but fun nonetheless.

Chaz still did not want to completely alienate his parents and the greasers, so the flipside "Stardust and You" is pure Bobby Vee. This time, a string section, rather than the psychecomb, was overdubbed. Just as the Rolling Stones/George Jones gig had made sense in the context of its time and place, so did pairing the 13th Floor Elevators with Bobby Vee here.

So, too, did it seem perfectly normal to acquire a Catholic priest, Father Coffey, as a manager. The Classics were made up of kids who had attended Mount Carmel Catholic High (Chaz himself had gone to Lutheran High), and Mount Carmel's gymnasium had been a major spot for weekend teen dances for local bands since the '50s. Fever Tree recorded a live album there.

Pie in the sky idealism wasn't the sole purview of hippies in the late sixties; religious authorities were also dreaming big. "Father Coffey's idea was for us to play at the Vatican," Chaz said, shaking his head at this memory. "To play rock and roll music at the Vatican. He was sending letters out to all these priests. He got to messing around with all these bands and everything, and he was a heavy drinker – he had strong religious convictions, but at the same time he was liberated. He was always being ostracized by the Catholics because of his association with psychedelic rock musicians. He was trying to get these religious leaders to accept this, and they wouldn’t accept it. Eventually, the man lost his mind. He was put into a mental hospital."

By this time, Chaz and the Classics had succumbed to hipness and changed their name, first to the Syndromes, then to the Captr (combining the first letters of their names). As the Syndromes, they re-recorded "Girl of the 13th Hour" at Gold Star, something I only discovered 10 years after my interview with Chaz. It is a strong version, sans the psychecomb, and may be reissued one of these days.

Chaz and the Classics as the Ballistics, Pasadena, Tx., c. 1968. Chaz standing in middle.

One of the bands Father Coffey managed was the Ballistics. They had recorded a single but broke up before it came out. Chaz and the boys then became the Ballistics for awhile, not letting on that they weren't the group who made the record. (This was presumably "Please Come Home" on Jamie, the only single I can find credited to a group by that name. "Please Come Home" is the Sixpentz song.) It isn't known how long they maintained this ruse.

The group had graduated to better gigs by 1968, though they were still remote from mainstream rock clubs like the Catacombs, and most Houston rock fans probably never saw them play. They played strange events like the "Youth For Decency" Rally at the Coliseum, and sometimes appeared with the Buddy Brock Orchestra. "We were playing places like the River Oaks Country Club," said Chaz. "Buddy and his orchestra would play, and while they took a break, Buddy would put us on. The first set would be mediocre stuff like the Turtles, slow stuff, but as it gradually went on it would get wilder and wilder. Towards the end of the night, we were doing full-fledged rock and roll, and there would be gray-haired people out there kicking ass (dancing)."

Once again ... it made sense within the time and place. You just have to keep saying this when writing about Texas in the sixties.

As the Captr, the band made two more singles, "Gentle Thursday" (not the Music Emporium song), a good garage/Farfisa mover, and "Forthcoming," a hard rock effort recorded at Jones Sound in late 1969. This was their final effort on vinyl I think, though there was one more session in 1971. By that time, the teen garage band era was most definitely dead and buried forever.

I was sorry to learn recently that Chaz had died at age 60 on March 24, 2007. I regret not keeping in touch with him in his later years. He was an interesting guy. He apparently spent the intervening decades as a political cartoonist for the Pasadena newspaper, and playing the odd gig like the one I witnessed at the Galena Park Recreation Center. He had an Elvis-like persona. When I met him on a warm Sunday afternoon for our interview, he was wearing a leather jacket. I think he remained a serious Elvis fan not only through the late sixties, but well into the '80s and '90s. The East Side aesthetic had never left him, even right up to the end.

Below: The Captr at the "Youth For Decency Rally," front page of the Houston Chronicle, April 28, 1969. Click to enlarge.

Chaz and the Classics discography

July, 1965. ACA-Gold Star Studio.
Dreamboat Overseas/You Are the Answer to a Dream (BCS AG 6002/6003)
(as The Classics – Vocal Solo: Chas.)

October 15, 1966. Jones Sound Studio.
Cindy (I’m A Soldier Now)/Dream Boat Overseas (Picture 6995) 1966
(as Chaz)

January 6, 1967. Jones Sound Studio.
Girl Of The 13[th] Hour/Stardust And You (Picture 6999) released April, 1967
(as Chaz and the Classics)

1967. Gold Star Studio.
Girl of the 13th Hour/Gentle Thursday (unissued).

April 21, 1968. Jones Sound Studio.
Alice (In Wonderland) /Gentle Thursday (Picture 6981)
(as Chaz – Music by: Captr)

November 18, 1969. Jones Sound Studio.
Forthcoming/Little Girl (Zac 1001)
(as Chaz and the Captr)

Leo and the Prophets

2011-09-18T15:03:00.001-07:00

Leo and the Prophets at the Ozone Forest Club in Austin, 1967. Back L to R: Rod Haywood (bass), Bill Powell (drums), Dan Hickman (rhythm guitar). Front L to R: Travis Ellis (tambourine), Leo Ellis (vocals, lead guitar).

Leo and the Prophets - "Tilt-A-Whirl"

Leo and the Prophets - "The Parking Meter"

Leo and the Prophets were active on the Austin scene in the halcyon days of the mid-to-late 1960s. They only released one single, the supremely fun and quirky "Tilt-A-Whirl" b/w "The Parking Meter," on the local Totem label. Recorded in less than three hours at Gold Star in Houston on April 9, 1967, he original 45 is now rare and expensive, but it has been reissued many times. A follow-up for Sonobeat never materialized.

Leo Ellis was a jazz guitarist/Svengali who decided to get in on the psychedelic action by recruiting a teenage group, J.C. and the Boys, to form the Prophets in 1966. They played at the Lake Austin Inn, Swingers Club, and the usual places (including the State School for the Mentally Retarded) before starting their own club, the Ozone Forest. For reasons that remain obscure, Leo had a complete breakdown on stage during an important gig at the New Orleans Club one night, cussing out the band and audience in a drug and alcohol fueled rage, thus ending the brief life of the Prophets.

I interviewed Dan Hickman (rhythm guitar), Rod Haywood (bass), and Bill Powell (drums) to get their memory of this extraordinary time in Austin music history.

DAN HICKMAN

AB: How exactly did J.C. and the Boys come together?

DH: Rod Haywood sat right behind me in class. The first day I went to Reagan HS, he asked me to come over to his house. He had the new Them album. He introduced me to “Gloria” and “Mystic Eyes.” I had been taking guitar lessons, and had been playing Ventures, and that sort of introductory guitar crap…

Was this late ’64, or…

No, this was ’65. So, I had some experience with a guitar. Rod had none. So that was where it all came from. I essentially taught him how to play guitar chords over the phone. From there, we knew some other people at school who had musical equipment. Bill was one of those people. He lived just a few blocks away and had a drum kit. And then Mike McClary, who was a very rich kid, we met somehow or another. He had his shit together. He was a pretty good guitar player, and could sing, but more importantly, he looked exactly like Paul McCartney. That really helped us get gigs. He had two amps - a Fender Twin Reverb and a DeLuxe Reverb - and a couple of guitars. In those days, that was just amazing! And his dad, somehow or another, had a connection to the Jets, who were a real good R&B group that had been playing in East Austin for, I don’t know, 20 years. So, a couple of times, Mike took Rod and I to a guitar lesson he’d have with one of their guitar players. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, ‘cause this was like the coolest thing ever. All of a sudden we were learning, you know, seventh chords, and minor seventh flat fives, and all this blues stuff. Up until then, we’d just been playing bar chords.

So, that’s how J.C. and the Boys kind of…McClary had a garage, he had the equipment, so we’d show up at his garage and do our thing. It was that way for a long time. {Note: Late ’65 through Summer ’66.} We played a lot of private parties and what not. No live gigs…and there were times when we couldn’t play at McClary’s house, so we’d play at Bill Powell’s house. And that’s the first time I ever saw Leo.

Before we get into that, I wanted to ask you about the name -- J.C. and the Boys was kind of unusual for ’65.

Isn’t that weird? McClary seized upon religious bigotry. Just the whole religious scene he thought was ridiculous, hypocritical. So, the name was just a play on Jesus Christ and his disciples: “J.C. and the Boys.” Really, pretty risky. It was crazy. But nobody ever put it together.

You wrote that you got kicked out of the house for what appears to be a rather frivolous reason…

I was adopted by my grandparents. They were very strict, and were not going to put up with this nonsense. It may have seemed frivolous at the time, but I think they were making some sort of “tough love” stand…

Yes, but it resulted in you being homeless for the next few years of your life.

They didn’t believe that I would do it. They felt like I would give in and come home with my tail twixt my legs, so to speak, and play by the rules. But I think they totally underestimated the mindset that was sweeping through America in those times. That whole thing was unbelievably powerful. I was taken by the whole rock and roll thing, and I knew that I would go to the wall to live it. And I did.

Even if it meant being homeless.

Yeah. And when I say homeless - no permanent home for more than a month or two. Really, from some time in ’66 or ’67 up until sometime in ’71, I maybe lived in two dozen different places. The little college loan I had, it paid the tuition, it bought the books, but it wouldn’t allow me to live in a dorm on campus like most kids. I’d have to be in some dive off campus…

So how long did J.C. and the Boys play before Leo entered the picture?

I think it was late summer ’66 that we hooked up with Leo.

Was it before school started?

Yeah, I believe so. I don’t know how long Leo had been married to Marilyn. I didn’t even know Marilyn. She’d never been there when we’d practice at Bill’s house. But this one time, McClary was not there. He didn’t show, but his equipment was left there. We walked in and, all of a sudden, here’s all of this other equipment. And that was Leo’s. So we started playing some of the usual crap that we’d been playing. And he, really, had no originals. He just played his jazz stuff. And it was great, no question about it. He was ten times the musician we were. That’s kind of how it happened. We were desperate…

There was a music store in town called J.R. Reed. It was the only music store in town. You could essentially take home an amplifier - not rent - as long as someone over 21 signed for it. You could take it home as though you were going to try it out to buy. We’d check ‘em out on Friday, go play somewhere, then take ‘em back on Saturday at lunchtime. We did that over and over again. It got more difficult as time went on to convince them that we were seriously interested. But they knew there was money in the bands, so they would cater to you as much as they could. All of a sudden, here’s Leo with equipment that doesn’t have to be checked in or out. It was just too good.

You said that Leo had a career as a draftsman?

Yeah. He was good, too. I actually went to his work a few times. They would bend over backwards to appease him, because not only was he good, he was real fast. He could do a day’s work in a half day. He did that by taking white crosses and smoking weed. But he absolutely hated it. All he did was bitch about work.

So, as you mention in your story, you believe Leo took over J.C. and the Boys “out of fear of losing his youth”?

Oh, sure. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it seems pretty clear now. Maybe I’m wrong, but it sure seems that way. I think, first of all, he really wanted a break from playing jazz. And maybe he saw this as a chance to accomplish two things at once: to be with his wife, and play with a band, and not have her upset because the drummer in the band was her brother.

And Darlette and Marilyn traveled with the band everywhere. They went to every gig. They wore white go-go boots and danced at the side of the stage at almost every performance. We were coming from that mod era. We were coming from that to a more hardline, I guess you could say psychedelic, era - (where there was) less dressing in go-go boots and matching outfits to more of a do your own thing with leather and all that.

So Marilyn was very much involved, and yet Leo was still hitting on other girls…

Constantly. It was so goddamn embarrassing. You’d be ready to go on for the next set and, invariably, Leo’s out back either getting high or screwing the club owner’s wife…and, I don’t know, we might have thought that if he ever got caught, that’d be the end of the band. But yes, he was a leaper and a bounder.

Yes, according to Rod, the sole reason Leo wanted to join the band was just for the girls.

Oh, absolutely! Take it from me, it wasn’t because of our musicianship. Plus he had this real insatiable appetite for drugs.

Tell me about playing at the Living Eye club in Houston.

Man, that place was packed. It was literally wall-to-wall people. I think we had dropped acid a day or so before we played, and by the time we took the stage, I was having unbelievable flashbacks. I’d just phase out in the middle of a song. And it was unusual in ’67 - other than Hendrix - for musicians to fall to the floor with their guitars. I ended up doing it that day, not to imitate Hendrix or anything, (but) because I was having such a flashback that I literally could not stand. I was in the middle of a solo when it hit, and I had to go to my knees to keep from passing out.

And the crowd loved it…

They did…that’s when I kind of snapped back out of it. The first thing I looked at was the crowd, and they were cheering and applauding. There was a dance that was real popular back then called the Gator…

Oh yes, the Alligator.

People would actually get down like gators. So, maybe that was the motivation for some of the crowd dropping on the floor just like I did. I looked over real quick to Leo, and sure enough, he was down there on the stage, like a dog on it’s back, playing his guitar. It was just so crazy. It was probably some sort of soul song, like “Mustang Sally,” ‘cause that would tie in with that dance. And I remember Rod, as always, just laughing his as off while he was playing - looking at all of these fools on the ground, including the audience.

What were your first impressions of the Elevators?

I was totally taken with their lyrics. To this day, I have yet to hear another band with as much metaphysical influence as them. I think the first time I saw the Elevators was at the New Orleans club. The thing that blew me away the most is that, we were all trying to acquire the equipment that resembled all the stuff that you would see on television, that all the big bands would have. Walls and stacks of amps, and all that - as well as the really chic, trendy clothes. The Elevators were a complete 180 (from that). It was the first time I’d seen anything like that. We’re talking Alamo amps…we’re talking an old PA system like you’d see at a school auditorium. Maybe the whole cabinet had been taken off, and they’d just nailed it down to some plywood. That would sit on top of this old, beat-to-hell Alamo amp. And, instead of the cords being routed to the back of the stage where you couldn’t see them, they might just have a bird’s nest of cords laying there on the stage.

They played some of the shittiest looking equipment. None of it matched. It looked like it had come out of a pawn shop - and I guess it did. And yet, they were able to get such a mesmerizing, hypnotic tone, and such a drive - almost a primitive drone - coming out of that rag-tag junk.

Plus their decorum. They were wearing these boots - not cowboy boots, but a kind of workman’s boots, the kind that you’d stick your jeans in as opposed to pulling your jeans over to look very polished.

Well, the very notion of wearing jeans on stage in 1966 was unheard of…

Exactly. It became evident, at least in my mind, that the message was much more important than the visuals. So, it was a total rejection of everything we had seen and aspired to, and the music got me, the image got me, that equipment just totally blew my mind.

Plus, we’d seen Roky play with his group the Spades a couple of times, at the Jade Room, or maybe Club Saracen on San Jacinto - which was nowhere near the Elevators. They were really very “pop” and similar to most of the bands that were playing in those days. Roky was really a different player then. Very pure.

But those bastards, let me tell you, they were hounded to absolute death by the Austin Police Department. I mean, they could not get a moment anywhere, period. It was sad. It did ‘em in. But I love all that metaphysical claptrap from Tommy Hall.

Did you ever meet them, or hang out with them?

They were totally unapproachable. I don’t think you could’ve gotten a straight answer from any of ‘em if you’d tried.

Did the Prophets play frat parties at all?

A few. There were not many. We tended to play more psychedelic tunes and less soul tunes, and soul music was what they wanted to hear at frats. They wanted to drink and listen to Sam and Dave. But I do remember that when you played a frat gig, you could make $500 a night. That’s pretty amazing.

Travis Ellis, Bill Powell, and Leo Ellis at the Ozone Forest, 1967.

What other local bands did you like?

The Baby Cakes were huge, because they imitated the Byrds. They did the Byrds’ things, with the Rickenbackers and Vox amps and all that. The Wig had this wonderful guitar player who, in my opinion, was easily the best guitarist of that whole time, Johnny Richardson. He was so good, it was scary. But he was the kind of person that did not want fame. He just walked away from it.

Jim Mings was another sensational guitar player and writer. Jim Mings and the Six Pack was a really good soul and funk band. They reformed several times, and several names went with that band. {Mings later had a band w/Danny Galindo called New Atlantis, and also played with the South Canadian Overflow.} Tim Lively and the Profits got lots of frat gigs. Why, I’m not really sure, but I think that’s how the name “Profits” came about.

And they only adopted that name after you guys had started playing?

I don’t know that for a fact, but isn’t it an incredible coincidence? Whether Leo did it afterwards, or they did it first…I do know that Leo was constantly carrying The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. He would quote from it; read from it to anyone who would listen.

Rod seems to think that Leo’s jazz trio was called the Prophets.

It may be…

…and that he, Leo, got Rod to play in that band for a gig or two before taking over J.C. and the Boys.

It could have played out that way, for sure. I do remember Rod, when we were getting this info together for Hans, telling me that he was playing with the Walter Hutchinson Trio. Whether or not Walter left, say, and Leo called it Leo and the Prophets, and Walter then went to Tim Lively and the Profits, I don’t know.

How did you get the gig at the home for the mentally retarded? Was that a circuit for bands, or just a one-time deal?

I couldn’t tell you. Leo booked everything. He hated Charlie Hatchett, but everyone had to use Hatchett, he was the only agent in town. As a band, you tried to play anything and everything. There was the Austin Parks Dept., that would pay you for various events you would play at Zilker Park, or other parks. This was something that came up routinely for a lot of different bands, to play events at those state and city (functions), where they had money allocated for entertainment. Leo never discussed any of that (booking). I just showed up, got stoned, and did my thing. At the time, it seemed okay.

This place was like a gymnasium, but a very large gymnasium. There were more than those particular (mentally retarded) people. There were all of the attendants that had to watch them, as well as the administration. And I guess to get more bang for their buck, they had bused in some kids from the home for the hearing and blind, which was less than a mile away. This was right around Bull Creek, where all of those state schools are located.

I don’t think we had thought much about it until we had taken the stage and actually looked out there and saw what we saw. And it was quite unnerving. (Laughs) You know, you’ve got guys that are trying to undress, guys with their tongues hanging out…it shook you up, especially if you were stoned, and looked at all of this. Initially.

But then you “got into it”…

We got into it, and they really got into it. It was scary to start with, but then it actually became fun. I don’t believe, other than a few of those auditorium gigs, that we ever played to a larger crowd. And I don’t think we ever played to a more appreciative crowd. (Laughs) On what level they appreciated it, I’m not sure. Probably some primitive level, like most people. I think we were only there for an hour or so. You can only keep that much craziness under control for a short period of time.

That was probably early on, because at that time Leo had us dressing very modish. And then Marilyn and Darlette with the go-go boots…so it might have appeared, from a distance, that this was a very English, mod group.

Leo and the Prophets with girlfriends in Matamoros, Mexico.

You played the Aqua Festival Battle of the Bands, didn't you?

I believe the Austin Aqua Festival’s first year was 1966. I know I played two of ‘em. I remember that I played one of ‘em with Leo, maybe two. I don’t know if they finally cancelled the Aqua Festival or not. I know it’s been going on for 30 or 40 years. You showed up and played…if you were lucky, you won. They did a first, second, and third place. It was probably a trophy or something. The crazy thing about it was, the Doris Miller Auditorium was touted as being the most acoustically perfect building in the Southwest. And it was exactly the opposite of that. The basement, where we actually played one time, was infinitely better. The auditorium itself was this huge, rambling sea of unusual shapes and concrete that could somehow suck your tone up and spit it back to you a good second-and-a-half later.

In those days, I don’t recall ever seeing anybody with a monitor…ever. Without monitors, it was a tough gig to play. You couldn’t hear yourself until after the fact, so you’d have to play by memory.

We were up against some tough competition. John Stahaley, who played with a group called Shepherd’s Bush, was a very hot guitar player. They were easily one of the better bands because of him. Todd Potter was just a spectacular musician. He was the first player I ever knew that played a Gretsch White Falcon. He played in a variety of different groups…I want to say the Strawberry Statement? {The Strawberry Shoemaker.} They were another group that would regularly finish high at the Battle of Bands, if not win it. I also remember being on stage in Leo and the Prophets with Eric Johnson opposite us. And he just totally destroyed us. He was doing some Jeff Beck stuff…I believe he was playing “Jeff’s Boogie,” and it was almost note-for-note. It made us look foolish!

What did Travis Ellis do?

Travis was the guy who showed up in the little Renault Dauphine. Leo painted that thing psychedelic, just like the club. And he wrote - we were getting a lot of hassle about drugs, like the Elevators - he wrote, “Leo and the Prophets - Psychedelic Music Without The Use Of Drugs.” Travis or I would drive that little Renault to a lot of the gigs, and park it right out front as advertising.

Travis died in the late sixties or early seventies. He was a diabetic. He was a nice guy…no musical ability, but he could at least play tambourine in time. He had a good leveling attitude, and he could calm Leo down.

How did the record come about?

Leo said, “We’re going to write a couple of psychedelic tunes.” We went to his home on a Sunday, ate steaks, and wrote the two songs that Sunday. And shortly after that, we were on our way to Gold Star to record.

So you hadn’t been performing those songs very long prior to recording them?

Not very long…I would guess a dozen performances, maybe more. By the time we got to Gold Star, we knew ‘em backwards and forwards.

What was the inspiration behind “The Parking Meter”?

In those times, I was living hand-to-mouth. With my long hair, I got called “animal” a lot of times. Getting rejected by the common man…I didn’t have a regular place, I didn’t dress all that well, had long hair, no car, and walked everywhere. I was kind of viewing society as though I were taken for granted. Something that everybody passed by and no one paid any attention to. And yet, once I had something to offer, i.e. playing in a band, all of a sudden people are paying money to watch me. I play my three-and-a-half, four hours, then I’m done, and I go back to my “world of solitude.”

So it was analogous to your life, then?

Yeah…or anyone’s life, really. The most prolific writing in my life was from ’65 to ’70. I literally had dozens of songs I wrote with J.C. and the Boys, and another little spin-off group Rod, Bill and I had called Bluefield Dairy.

We’d heard Leo sing it (“Parking Meter”), and he couldn’t sing it straight-faced. So, I got the nod. In performance, we did trade off vocals a lot.

Leo, frankly, just did not have a handle for rock and roll. And it wasn’t like I was Jeff Beck. But at least I knew what to try to do, or the tone to go for. Because in those days, as (sarcastically) “rebellious as we were,” and our audiences were, they really wanted to hear people play songs that kind of sounded like the records - as opposed to taking long flights of fancy, which really didn’t happen until, really, about the time Leo and the Prophets folded up.

So, the record never received any airplay?

No, unfortunately. It was crazy because the Spades had gotten their record on there (KNOW), and the Wig had “Drivin’” (i.e., “Drive It Home”), the Baby Cakes had a single…so the fact that we couldn’t get on there absolutely crushed me. Because I wanted all my school friends to say, “Wow, look at them, they’re on the radio.”

KNOW was the only pop station in Austin. KAZZ, the jazz thing, really didn’t come about until later, and then that part of their format (pop music) was only on late at night. Hell, a lot of people didn’t even have an FM radio. Only mom and dad could afford one.

The fact that it got banned actually did more for the record probably than if it had been played. Word of mouth spread. So where we’d been playing gigs where maybe 50 people showed up, all of a sudden, there were twice as many people. Just to see. Just to hear the song for themselves.

The attitudes of Texans in those years were some of the only moments in my life that I’d been proud to be an American. I’m serious. Because I saw cowboys who had nothing better to do than beat people up totally transformed to become kind and gentle creatures. And I knew that there was hope for those people. And yet, after awhile, even that went away.

Leo and the Prophets at the Dunes Club, Port Aransas, 1967.

What was the story of the Prophets’ confrontation with rednecks in some small town…

What a hoot…we stopped, I believe, in Lampasas {Sinton according to Bill}…we were tired, it was hot, we looked bad, we smelled bad, we were hungry. We couldn’t make it to Austin, so we go in this little roadside restaurant. You could’ve heard a pin drop when we walked in. All of the regular patrons just kind of stopped in mid-fork to look at what’s walking in. This place had two large tables that would seat 12 people in the middle, and the usual booths and tables around that. One table had all these good ol’ boys in their country shirts and hats having a good ol’ time. We walk in, and there’s really no way we can all get into two or three booths. (We had the five members of the band, plus all the girlfriends, plus a few roadies and their girlfriends.) So, it was a crowd. So, we take the table next to the good ol’ boys. On the walls there were literally dozens of mounted heads of all kinds. It was amazing. The food, it seemed like, was taking forever. I don’t know if they were trying to tell us we’re not going to serve you, or whatever. So, we started making noises like the various animals on the wall…which did not help our situation at all.

Meanwhile, the guys next to us are getting more and more upset with our attitude, and the way we look. The last thing I wanted to do was fight. I just wanted to eat and get the hell out of there. I think everyone else felt the same way.

We finally get food, we eat, and it comes time to leave. Leo always paid the check. So, as we get up to go, what does Leo do? Well, he’s had enough of these old boys putting us down. He walks right over to the biggest, meanest, baddest, ugliest one of all, plucks the hat off his head, puts it on his head, slams both of his hands down the table - tableware and glassware all go flying - and says, (loudly) “I’m Leo Ellis, these are the Prophets…now, who the hell are you?”

I’m telling you…our eyes got as big as their eyes. We were in shock. We just knew that things were going to explode, so we got the hell out of there. We were in the station wagon, locking the doors…

You weren’t about to rally to Leo’s aid…

Oh, hell, no! Are you crazy? But, sure enough, he comes out of there a few minutes later with a toothpick, laughing, not a bruise on him. He said, “Oh, you just gotta explain it to ‘em, they just didn’t understand.” It was a typical Leo situation. Always confrontational. The only thing you could be sure of was that he would be confrontational and unpredictable.

Were there many other times when you had run-ins with rednecks?

Oh, absolutely. At the Ozone Forest, it happened all the time. They’d come in from these little country towns outside of Austin. They’d get all liquored up and come into town. Of course, Ozone Forest, right there on the drag, was real convenient.

It was a fairly small club, I’m guessing about 40 feet wide by 80 feet long. There were always a lot of people outside the club, on the sidewalk. That’s where a lot of the hassle would happen. It almost seemed like it was orchestrated at times. It seemed like the cops would never get there until after the situation had already happened. People got tired of it. Many times, innocent people would get involved in situations.

Dan Hickman at the Ozone Forest, 1967.

How long was the club open, approximately?

It wasn’t long, maybe three or four months. It was packed. We had good crowds on the weekends, and average crowds during the week. We carried bands there as often as we could. That’s when we had these really forgettable…(Laughs) We had this one group that I’d talked Leo into booking. In this group, everybody wore a black glove on one hand.

The Music Machine?

Well…they were imitating the Music Machine. (Laughs) You know, when you get around to imitating the Music Machine, you’re definitely a Tuesday night act. So that’s what we’d have during the week, and then we’d have the better Austin bands on the weekend.

The Reasons Why of "Don't Be That Way" fame appearing at the Ozone Forest, 1967.

How did the Sonobeat single come about?

Somebody Leo knew also knew Rim Kelley. I know that Kelley played “Tilt-A-Whirl” and “Parking Meter.”

Oh, he played the record?

He played it late at night on KAZZ. At the same time, I think Kelley must have realized that there were a lot of bands out there that he could record with his little label. He was recording anybody and everybody. I went to his dad’s (Bill Josey’s) house in Balcones. The basement was loaded with state of the art recording equipment, as well as a variety of old Fender amps. They knew what to record with. It was real tiny. But we went down there and recorded. And then, supposedly, they recorded us at LAI. I do remember the time they recorded us at Swinger’s. There were no PAs or boards or any of that crap. They recorded a lot of bands that day. We recorded onto a two track, possibly four track. The Elevators were there; I don’t know if they recorded ‘em. Todd Potter’s band was there…we had our time there. Leo was out in the parking lot with whoever (female) was available.

I know that we had written “Ozone Forest” and were playing it on a regular basis. They recorded it three times. And I think they did retakes of “Tilt-A-Whirl” and “Parking Meter,” as well as a couple of originals Rod and I had written…when they recorded, they would do a whole set.

Dan Hickman at the Lake Austin Inn.

So, it was your understanding that the Sonobeat recordings were going to be released as a single?

Yep…going to be released as a single. We had a B-side that wasn’t good enough, so we were trying to come up with the B-side, but could never find the time. We played constantly. There was no time to rehearse or write. So maybe that was the reason it fell by the wayside: we could never come up with a B-side. I tend not to think so.

Tell me about that last gig at the New Orleans Club…you guys had never played there?

No, and we’d always wanted to, probably because of the Elevators’ influence, and for the fact that the better Austin bands tended to get booked there on Friday and Saturday nights. That was really before the Vulcan Gas Company. The New Orleans was a much bigger club.

The crazy thing about it is, I don’t remember Leo ever doing a lot of drinking. I know he always had a bottle of Schlitz, but I don’t recall him drinking beer after beer…with Leo, it was always weed and speed. That night, he started the insults rights away. It was (directed at) nobody in particular. He would just change a song, whatever it would be, and sing, “You fucking asshole.” And be singing it in a pretty voice, y’know. A lot of people wouldn’t realize it. Then he’d sing it a little louder the next pass through, and eventually, people began to take notice. And in those days, those were fighting words. So that’s what it escalated to. I believe that particular night, he’d had too much of everything. Who the hell knows. It could’ve been any number of things, and probably would’ve happened eventually anyway…but what a place for it to start. Because we had worked so hard, it seemed like, to get to that point.

(During the first break) Leo just came walking down the steps with his amp and guitar, put it in the trunk, and left. That was it. I don’t even remember him saying, “I quit.” I believe he did, but I don’t even remember that. He just left! And we were looking at each other like, “Oh, that’s great. Now what are we gonna do?”

So, we had to throw out the Leo and the Prophets repertoire, and went back to J.C. and the Boys. We finished the next three sets, and that was it. I think we all thought that he would come back during the last set or something…

I think that we all had been pretty much beaten down by Leo so much…

…that you just didn’t want to play anymore?

Exactly right. It was such a psychological beating…we were all burned out. Rod and I continued to noodle here and there, but everyone kind of went their separate ways.

Were you guys still in high school at this point?

They (Bill and Rod) graduated in ’68. I was a year ahead of them. I ended up getting a GED. I left midway through the 11th grade.

And two years later, Leo suddenly reappears.

Yeah. I had blocked that out, or forgotten about it. I didn’t have a guitar; I didn’t have anything. I had just started college. Leo shows up with this Kay upright bass. He traded a Kustom amp head at J.R. Reed’s, even, for the bass. He shows up at this little room I had rented -- it actually had an old record player - he shows up with half-a-dozen jazz records and this bass and says, “Learn this.” I tried. It made my fingers bleed.

Did you ask him where he’d been or what he’d been doing the preceding two years?

No. I didn’t want to know. About a week later, he shows up and says, “We’ve gotta go play here tonight, so let’s get loaded and go.” For some reason, I remember Bill being the drummer at that gig. It didn’t happen long…one or two, maybe three nights at the most.

He was doing exactly the same thing. I just couldn’t believe it. I remember somehow or another getting the bass and records into his car, and I disappeared from the planet as far as he was concerned. I’d had enough. He cleaned me out of what little weed I had. To Leo, anyone and everyone was fair game. I couldn’t see myself going down that same road again.

-------

Leo and the Prophets at the Ozone Forest, 1967.

ROD HAYWOOD

Rod, your version of how Leo and the Prophets came together is at slight variance with Dan’s, and Dan seems to think yours is the more reliable memory.

The drummer Billy’s sister was dating Leo at the time. He was this 30 year old jazz beatnik, and we were a bunch of teenagers. As I recall, he was just hanging around, listening to us play, seeing all these younger girls around, and decided that’s what he wanted to do: get in a rock and roll band. At the time he was in a three-piece jazz band. He decided to dump that and organize a rock and roll band with us. That’s basically how Leo and the Prophets started.

Now, were you involved with this group with Dan called J.C. and the Boys?

No. Actually I think there were (in that band) three or four guitar players. There were no bass players at the time; nobody knew how to play bass. I didn’t have a bass, but I hung around these guys and was a part of the scene. I later got a bass, and it was the next incarnation of a band that I became a part of.

What band was this?

The One Way Streets – the lead singer/guitar player was Allen Dressen, who I believe still plays around Austin. I played with them for awhile and then quit. Then Dan and I and Billy started to put this band together, which was a no name band. Actually…I think I moved to Colorado, then moved back, started playing with the One Way Streets…we broke up, and then Billy, Dan and I started just rehearsing.

Did Dan ever tell you about the time he sat in with the One Way Streets at the Municipal Auditorium? Classic story. Our guitar player got sick, so I said, hey, Dan, come on and sit in with us, this’ll be great. There were several bands. Then, the headliner I believe was Jerry Vale. And we were supposed to be his back-up band. Mike Lucas, a deejay from KNOW, was the emcee.

Dan had a new Gibson. At that time, he didn’t really understand when you play lead and when you don’t. So, we’re playing behind Jerry Vale, and we’re doing “Hang on Sloopy.” Right in the middle of it, Dan turns up his amp and starts playing these licks…this absolutely horrendous freak sound. (Laughs) This went on for about 10 bars, because every time Dan would do it, Vale would turn and look at him. Well, Dan thought he was encouraging him. So, he did it more! Finally Vale flips out right onstage and walks off. And as he’s walking off, I hear him scream at Mike Lucas, “Who the fuck hired this band?”

Now, I told Dan this story and he has a completely different version of it. That was the way I perceived it.

Yeah, Dan remembers it being a “radio personality turned singer,” not Vale, and that it was Leo and the Prophets backing him up.

No, it was the One Way Streets. Vale was this Elvis lookalike from Las Vegas.

How did you know Billy and Dan?

I moved from Colorado to Texas in ’64. The very first person I met was Bill Powell. Dan Hickman I met in high school, the very first year Reagan HS opened. He and I were in the same advisory. We sat next to each other. He’s actually the one who turned me on to guitar – showed me how to play.

So this band began to rehearse probably in the summer of ’66?

Yeah – summer, fall, sometime in that area.

Didn’t you tell me that you’d played bass in Leo’s jazz trio for a little while?

It wasn’t a little while, it was one night. I felt like, later on, that he’d used me to break the band up, so he could start the rock and roll band. Because here’s this kid that doesn’t know a 1-4-5 progression from yin and yang…and I’m supposed to know how to play “Shadow of Your Smile”? We played “Day Tripper” in F sharp – hello? (Laughs) I think about the second set, the drummer lost his mind. (Laughs)

Was this at the Lake Austin Inn?

Yeah.

So, the next thing you know, you guys are forming this band and starting to play out…for a long time you played at the LAI, correct?

Yeah. We were the house band out there every weekend. It went real well. We developed a real nice little following. It allowed us to become a tight little band.

The Power Plant (Golden Dawn) appearing at the Ozone Forest, 1967.

Either you or Dan told me that Leo would just count off the intros to songs, not make up a set list or anything, and just expect you guys to fall in and know what he was playing, just like a jazz group…

He would do that. He would just start playing. Wouldn’t tell you what it was – you were just supposed to know.

There were no set lists…

Nah. Never, ever a set list. I didn’t know what a “set list” was, to tell you the truth. (Laughs)

Dan thinks you guys were treated very condescendingly by Leo – did you have any thoughts on that?

Leo was just this incredible force that got things done. Musically, he knew so much more than we did. But I’m not going to say it was a learning experience, because he would never take the time to explain to you what the cycle of fifths was, or anything of that nature. He just expected you to get it. He was a nice guy for the most part, but he always took care of himself. It was always Leo first.

And Leo either got bored, or…I’m not sure what happened, why it broke up that night at the New Orleans Club.

Yeah, tell me your recollection of that night.

My recollection is, Leo got drunk as can be, and after the first set, he started insulting the crowd. Then (during a break) he went out front on the sidewalk and started hollering at us and so forth. And then finally he just said, “Fuck you,” got up, and drove off. Just drove off! (Laughs) We’re sitting there…I’m almost positive this was after the first set. We were standing there with our mouths open going, “Now what are we gonna do?” There were 200 to 300 people there. It was a big gig. The New Orleans Club was the big time. That’s where the Elevators would draw in these humongous crowds. We were just beginning to get established as a real, viable band. Where we could draw people. This night was a big deal. And he gets up and drives off.

And that was the last show?

That was it.

Couldn’t you have recruited another lead guitarist and continued as just ‘The Prophets’ or something?

We more or less tried that, but again, Leo was the driving force behind everything. He got it done. He was the glue. And even though we could have played as a trio, and even tried to, it quickly fell apart.

You’re credited as co-writer of ‘Tilt-A-Whirl’ – what was your contribution to the song?

My contribution to that was, “I’ve got a feeling/banana peeling/and the monkey’s showing through.” (Laughs) That was my contribution. And that came about because it was the beginning of the drug scene and all that, and Donovan had come out with “Mellow Yellow” which was supposed to be, if you burned banana peels…

…you’d get high. What does “the monkey” have to do with it?

(Laughs) When you go through heroin withdraws…

Oh, “monkey on your back.”

Exactly. I tried to sneak in this rather vague, gray reference.

I’d never even made that connection.

The whole idea for “Tilt-A-Whirl” came about (because) Leo said that he had a friend in Los Angeles who said that if he, Leo, could ever come up with some new dance, then this guy would produce it. Just like “The Twist” was such a big thing. Well, this was Leo’s answer to that.

So, Leo envisioned the ‘Tilt-A-Whirl’ as being a big dance sensation?

Exactly. He would do this dance…

Really? Dan and Bill have apparently forgotten this.

No, I still remember seeing him doing this. (Laughs)

Well, how would it go?

As I recall, he would bend at the hips and lean forward; kind of do this body rotation thing with his hands on his hips. (Laughs) Of course, Leo was this wiry guy who had these moves.

And then the record was “banned.” Tell me about that.

It was banned because of that banana peeling line. (Laughs) The only place you could hear it was on the University station, KUT. The radio stations said, “We’re not going to play it or talk about it. We just hope you guys go away.”

Leading up to that recording (session), we would play “Tilt-A-Whirl” four or five times a night. Leo would say, “We’ve got to get tight on it.” I always thought “Parking Meter” was a much better song than “Tilt-A-Whirl,” personally. Dan was a very talented songwriter. He would come over to my house every day with two or three songs. Some of ‘em were absolutely jewels…as good or better than anything that was out there at the time.

Dan said that I’m supposed to ask you about Leo’s wife and the tambourine at the session.

As I recall, they gave her a tambourine. And a tambourine is the worst instrument you can give anybody. They cut right through everything. There was a little stress over that decision, but of course Leo got his way. And, as you can hear, all that noise in the background? That’s Marilyn.

Background? Hell, it’s in the foreground. Tambourine is the lead instrument on that record.

Oh, man. (Laughs) Well, that was my introduction to the tambourine and what it could do. I still, to this day, remember: don’t give anybody a tambourine.

Gold Star Studio receipt for Leo and the Prophets' session.

Do you remember anything about the second session, for Sonobeat Records?

As I recall, Rim Kelley did “Ozone Forest.” We recorded it live, remotely, at Swinger’s-A-Go-Go. That’s all I remember. It wasn’t long after we did that that the band broke up. Rim used us to develop his own skills in recording, how he was going to do it and so forth…

By the way, Dan says your brother has a live tape of you guys.

We think he does. It might exist. He recorded us sitting in the living room.

Now, something we must get straightened out are the shows that Dan and Bill remember playing at the State Home for the Mentally Retarded…

Oh, yeah. (Laughter) The reason we did that was to pay our union dues. Also, if you would do a public service thing like that, they would waive your dues. We would play park gigs (for the union). We played down in East Austin one time, and I thought we were going to get killed. As I recall, a lot of Chicanos were hollering and harassing us, because we had long hair – and that was just taboo, it seemed like, for Chicanos. So we had walked into hostile territory, and the way we looked only exacerbated it. And then we were playing rock and roll, and all this…the longer we played, the more tense it got. (Laughs)

Well, one thing Dan didn’t remember but Bill did is also playing in a home for the mentally ill.

Well…that could be true. (Laughs) Now, I was involved with a band in Colorado, so now I’m mixing these two up. We used to do that – in both Colorado and Texas, play gigs at these institutions. At one point, a guy came up and he’d just shaved, and he’d just ravaged his face. Blood was everywhere. He was talking to us while blood’s running all over him. (Laughter) I’d completely forgotten about those things.

What were you telling me about the Elevators and their effect on you?

I idolized them. They were the vanguard of this cultural revolution.

They were just completely different –

Absolutely. Completely different. This was original. This was unique. These guys were doing something nobody else was doing. The Beatles…nobody was doing what these guys were doing. And they had this sound, this energy, this aura…this thing that was almost tangible. You could almost touch it.

You said prior to that, you’d seen Roky and the Spades play?

Yeah, they played at one of our dances at Reagan High School. They played real well. Musically, they were highly evolved compared to everybody else then playing (in Austin). Benny Thurman, as I recall, was their bass player. I’m sure he was. (???)

You never viewed the Elevators as just a local band?

No, no, no. The were the Elevators. They were bigger than the Baby Cakes, the Wig…

The Elevators had a guy named Brian Foster who idolized them and knew all their songs.He had a band that played their songs (Brian’s Blokes). It was a knock-off band. And they actually hired him on occasion to take Roky’s place. He knew the chord changes, he knew the songs, so they would just hire him when they knew that Roky wasn’t gonna be there.

You said, “Back in ’66, nobody got high.”

Young kids didn’t. Certainly it was an underground thing, and people that hung around the Elevators were. College Students. But high school students? Nah. Nobody was doing it.

Dan said there wasn’t much of a music scene in Austin in ’66.

There was the embryo of it. But…they’d have this battle of the bands during Aquafest. That was a big deal.

That was at the City Auditorium?

Yeah. We would go every year. There was always good bands, and, of course, there was a lot of crap. We played just that once. We were in the final four, and we lost completely. That was when Leo and Dan flopped down on their backs, playing guitars…everybody else had their Beatle jackets on, and they were very poised and so forth. And we’re out there floppin’ around…it was a hoot. It was filled to capacity: 10,000 people. We were playing “Gloria.” Leo flopped down on his knees, and all of a sudden Dan did too…it was so funny. All these people in the audience had their mouths open.

What’s your recollection of Leo and all of his women? Dan said it got to be embarrassing.

He had a talent. To give you an example, we had a friend whose father was this hardcore Baptist. Hardcore. And Leo convinced him to put money into this nightclub (Ozone Forest). That’s what a salesman he was. So, could he talk the pants off a virgin? I think he could. He was unbelievable.

According to Dan, “By the end of the summer (of ’67), the local fire marshals and police and violent rednecks were showing up every weekend to cite the club for nonexistent offenses.”

Yeah…they went out of their way to shut us down, because it was developing into a long-hair scene. And Austin was trying to do everything they could to shut that down. It was not a safe place after awhile.

Do you remember coming to Houston to play at a place called the Living Eye club?

Yeah. It was a dumpy club, painted up…in a dumpy area of Houston. And we stayed at a dumpy hotel. I don’t remember much about it except that it was a mediocre gig. I do remember Leo taking all the money…while we were thinking we were going to split (the money) five ways exactly. He said, “Well, no, I have to take expenses out.” Well, he and Marilyn were eating steaks and drinking wine while we were eating peanut butter sandwiches. So we ended up making nothing. That’s what I remember about it.

The stage at the Ozone Forest.

What was the story of you meeting Dan again circa 1970? You said Dan told you he was joining the Air Force or something…

We were trying to start a band with Brian Foster. He lived out near Lampasas…rented a farm way out in the woods. And so a bunch of us went out there to jam. And it turned out to be this insane asylum, with everybody getting way too high…it was crazy. So, like, 4:00 in the morning, Dan says, “Take me home!” What? Nobody can see, can’t walk… “Take me home.” All the way to Austin? “Yeah. I’ve gotta go home right now.” So, we drive him into Austin. And he disappears. He disappears for, like, six weeks. We’re all saying, “What happened to Dan?” Then I get a letter from him saying he’s joined the Air Force. (Laughter) A week or two later, he showed up at my front door. He was living in this little one-room apartment by the University. And he was now playing upright bass. (Laughter) He’s gotten back with Leo, and he’s playing at the Carousel Lounge down on Airport Boulevard…

So, did you actually see this group play?

Actually, no. I never saw them when they had an actual night gig. They came over and got me one Saturday afternoon. We were driving around, and they said, “Let’s go jam, man.” So we drove over to the Carousel Lounge…their equipment was sitting there. So, we just picked up and started playing. Dan, as I recall, got back on drums. I’m on upright bass, and Leo’s over on guitar. And we’re playing “Scotch and Soda,” “Shadow of Your Smile”…(Laughter) Can you imagine what that sounded like?

Too bad your brother wasn’t there with his tape recorder! So, that was the last time you and Dan saw Leo until 1979 or ’80 when you went down to San Marcos…

Right. That’s when this whole “Tilt-A-Whirl” thing came up, where I read about it and so forth. So I thought I’d call Leo and try to get some information out of him – who might have the master tape, and so forth. And he was as cold to me as he could be. I thought he’d be excited to hear from me…and he talked to me as if I was a bill collector.

How did you find him?

I can’t remember, but we start talking on the phone and he tells me he’s got this gig…so Dan and I went down to see him. It was pure Leo: he was doing the same songs, saying the same things…Leo was in his forties or fifties by that time.

-----

Bill Powell.

BILL POWELL

AB: Bill, what is your recollection of how Leo and the Prophets came together? Did you meet Dan and Rod at school, or…

BILL: Yeah, we all went to high school together.

Did you play with this group J.C. and the Boys?

Yeah, Dan and I were in that, and a guy named Mike McClary. I seem to remember we played primarily in McClary’s garage. Rod got involved with some guys called the One Way Streets. They were pretty good. I remember playing New Year’s Eve (Dec. 31, 1965) with them at Lampassas. So, Rod and I knew each musically through that.

The way I remember Leo and the Prophets getting together…my older sister was married to Leo. He was a real Svengali – he ran around in sharkskin suits, his hair was slicked back, playing jazz and singing Frank Sinatra and stuff like that. But then he started playing this place called the Lake Austin Inn which was just a little hovel of a night club on the west side of Lake Austin. He was playing with a three-piece band out there. I went out there a couple of times. I’d been playing drums off and on anyway.

I think all of a sudden Danny was playing guitar with them. And that just changed the entire complexion of the band from jazz to more of a r&r band. I remember sitting in a couple of times out there. The next thing I know, we were a band. I was 16 years old. We played a long time at the LAI, either once or twice a week. That’s where we became a band.

Where was Leo from?

San Marcos. He might have been raised in Victoria, but don’t quote me on that. I think his parents still lived in San Marcos when we were playing.

Because Rod seemed to think Leo came from L.A., and that he played in L.A. jazz clubs.

Well, he did. He lived out there for awhile. When my sister first met him, he’d just gotten back from Los Angeles. He came back in a Corvair that he wrecked on Lamar Boulevard. If you’d seen this car, you wouldn’t have believed that anybody walked away from it. That Corvair was just completely demolished. I’m pretty sure Leo was drunk at the time. But I remember distinctly that the Corvair had California plates on it.

Bill Powell at the Lake Austin Inn, 1967.

The Lake Austin Inn was a full-fledged drinking club. In those days, you could go to a night club at any age, you just couldn’t drink unless you were 21. It was real liberal back then. But all you could buy at a club in Texas was beer or wine. Or, you could buy set-ups, and bring your own bottle into a club. Weird laws. But, two things: it had to be in a paper bag, and it had to be kept on the floor. I can remember playing these clubs when I was 16 and there would be these older guys, the serious drinkers, ordering pitchers of ice or water, sitting there mixing up highballs. But their bottle of Jack Daniels would always be on the floor. That was the law – the New Orleans Club, the Jade Room, it was like that everywhere.

Anything stand out about the other bands playing in Austin at the time, like the Elevators?

They were tremendous. We were really very fortunate to see the Elevators as much as we did. I was a real groupie. I went to see them all the time. The Jade Room, New Orleans Club, wherever they were playing, we were there. I think Stacy’s really one of the underrated guitarists of that era. The guy was pretty amazing. John Ike was a heavy influence on my playing. And Roky – that voice, I’ve never heard anybody else quite like that.

Were they instantly popular in Austin?

No. I can recall seeing them at the New Orleans Club with a dozen people there. Same at the Jade Room. They were regulars at the Jade Room, like on Wednesday nights. What made them popular was when they got busted for marijuana. Nobody had really paid that much attention to them and, of course, they were splashed across the newspapers because of that. So then everybody, out of curiosity, wanted to go out and see them. Marijuana possession, you know, was like murder in those days!

Do you recall playing a show at the state home for the mentally retarded?

I remember more than one! I remember at least one show at the state hospital, and one at, I think it was called the Brown School, which was for the mentally retarded. We played at the Cackle Factory at least once.

The “Cackle Factory”?

The state hospital. The crazy people. Believe me, there were some really crazy people there. It was right off of Guadalupe. I think it’s called the Austin State Hospital for the Mentally Ill. The Brown School, which I think is out near the Burnett Road area, was for the mentally retarded. We hit ‘em all. You know why? Because Leo had us all join the union. And if you played those kinds of gigs and you were in the union, you’d get paid minimum scale. So, we used it to get some practice time in, but hell, we also got paid for it. Six to eight weeks after we played those gigs, I’d get a check in the mail for $18 from the Texas Musician’s Union. (Laughs) But the state hospital people just loved us.

Was that a regular circuit for local bands?

Not that I’m aware of. I think that was something Leo pulled out of his hat. I can’t remember how we got involved with that, but the next thing I knew, I was setting up my drum kit in the auditorium of the state hospital.

The Earth People (Golden Dawn) appearing at the Ozone Forest.

Leo was a very artistic person. He wasn’t an intellectual, but musically and artistically, he was a very talented individual. He just walked into an architecture firm and got a job as a draftsman. And he’d had no formal training in architecture or drafting. He just went in and did it.

How old was Leo? Both Dan and Rod seem certain he was about 30.

I think he was about 10 years older than me at the time, which would have made him 27. I don’t think he was 30.

So, the record was banned by KNOW?

They played it for a week or two, because I remember being ecstatic about hearing it on the radio. But then they got to that “I got a feeling/banana peeling” line. Somebody apparently took offense to that, and yeah, they banned it. But that turned out to be the biggest publicity we ever had. It was better than airplay.

Do you remember playing outside of Austin much?

We played at the Dunes Club in Port Aransas – that was the hottest club in the whole Corpus Christi area. It was a happening joint. It was right on the beach. They had a band upstairs and downstairs. The upstairs band was actually in the open. The downstairs band had a roof over them. We played there a couple of nights. After that, just for the hell of it, we went down to Matamoros, down to Brownsville. We stayed in Port Isabell…

Leo and the Prophets at the Dunes Club in Port Aransas, 1967.

Was that the trip where you stopped in a bar in some small town –

Yeah. It was in Sinton, Texas. That was one of the famous incidents with Leo and the Prophets. All’s well that ends well.

We had a few pretty bad incidents at the Ozone Forest. Guys would just bust the door down and start beating up everybody that they could find. Travis actually pulled a gun on them one night. They chased him into there – he was up by the bandstand, and I was afraid he was going to shoot ‘em. He didn’t, so they picked him up and threw him over my drums. And that was the end of it. I think that particular incident was the end of the night club.

Dan remembers that a couple of years after the band broke up, he started playing jazz with Leo.

I remember that.

Did you play with that group?

I want to say that maybe I played once or twice with Dan and Leo at a couple of little cocktail bars. I don’t think I felt very comfortable, because Leo was so much more accomplished in that area. He was playing a lot of jazz stuff, and I couldn’t play jazz drums. But I do remember that big ol’ bass.

Was Leo still playing during the 68-69 period?

If he was playing, he probably went back to playing by himself. I really don’t know. I never saw him perform again.

-----

More on Leo and the Prophets' Sonobeat session can found at the Sonobeat website.

All photos/illustrations courtesy Dan Hickman and Rod Haywood.

Thanks to Craig Malik.

The 1964 KILT Back to School Spectacular

2011-07-17T13:56:00.000-07:00

"THERE WILL BE NO TUNING UP ON THE STAGE"

KILT radio's Fifth Annual "Back to School Spectacular" was held at the Sam Houston Coliseum sometime in August, 1964. This was a huge affair, with no less than 16 acts performing, and the Everly Brothers headlining. I'm not aware of any photos that exist from this event, but luckily a schedule that was given to the performers has somehow managed to survive.

According to the helpful "artist bio" on the back of the schedule, The Five Americans, who had not put out their first record yet, are making their first Houston appearance at this show. Johnny Winter had been kicking around a few years at this point but shot to local fame when his "Eternally" was, we learn, "one of the most played records at Garner State Park" that summer. Cecil Moore is here because "Diamond Back" on Sarg was a Top 5 record on KILT. It's safe to safe this was the largest crowd that Luling boy had ever played in front of. We also learn that C.L. and the Pictures are "known to everyone in Houston." Maxine Davis, a Huey Meaux act on Guyden joined Lee Maye (another Meaux artist) as the only African-American performers on the bill. Roy Head and the Traits, Bobby Doyle Trio, and the Champagne Brothers all put in appearances. I wonder what happened to the Triumphs?

We also learn that David Box's first record, "If You Can't Say Something Nice" was "a big Houston hit" and his "Little Lonely Summer Girl" on Ray Rush's Gina label was a hit that summer. This was one of the last appearances for Box, who perished in a plane crash on October 23.

The 1965 Back to School Spectacular was headlined by the Beatles. I'm not sure if the Spectacular continued after that.

The schedule was:

3:00 The Jokers
3:03 Introduction of KILT disc jockeys (Bob White, Johnny Mitchell, Bob Presley, Ken Knox, Charlie Brown, Jim Wood)
3:08 Five Americans
3:?? Lee Maye
3:14 Johnny Winter
3:20 Buddy White and the Bellhops
3:26 Cecil Moore
3:32 Roy Head and the Traits
3:38 C.L. and the Pictures
3:44 Bobby Doyle Trio
3:53 Maxine Davis
4:02 David Box
4:11 Mickey Gilley
4:20 Champagne Brothers
4:30 Ray Stevens
4:45 Jerry Lee Lewis
5:00? Everly Brothers

Picture of schedule (front):

"Artist Bios" (back):

The Epics

2011-07-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

THE EPICS

"(I'm Gonna Pay You Back With) The Very Same Coin"

"The Magic Kiss"

Little information is to had on the Epics, a vocal group from early '60s era Houston. They had seven releases between 1960 and 1963, most of them written, arranged, and released by Ray Doggett. The early releases on Lynn/Sabra have a male lead, Buddy Williams, but by late 1961 a girl named Jeannie (last name unknown) had taken over as the lead.

Lynn 510
ACA 4132/L-722 Girl by the Wayside (James Hickey) ACA master: Late 1960
ACA 4133/L-723 Ho-Hum-Deedle-Dum (Doggett) KNUZ #19 Dec 1, 1960

Lynn 513
ACA 4203 The Magic Kiss (Ray Doggett) ACA master c. Jan 1961
ACA 4204 (I’m Gonna Pay You Back With) The Very Same Coin (Ray Doggett)

Lynn 516
ACA 4283 Last Night I Dreamed (J. Gribble) ACA session: May 16, 1961
ACA 4284 Most of All (Harvey-Fuqua-Freed)

Sabra 516
ACA 4283 Last Night I Dreamed (J. Gribble) 1961?
The Magic Kiss

Eric 7001
ACA 4418/386 Grounded (Ray Doggett-Lelan Rogers) ACA session: Aug. 31, 1961
ACA 4419/387 Wishing You Were Mine (Bill and Faye Shackelford)

Dante 3004 The Epics Featuring Jeannie
D-205 I Want to Be Your Girl (Goldner-Barett) 1962-63
D-206 So Many Times (G. Smith-S. Jones)

Dante 3006 Jeannie and the Epics
Mama Dear 1962-63
Glad to be Free

Shane Records: The Discography

2011-07-14T19:38:00.001-07:00

SHANE RECORDS: THE DISCOGRAPHY

I've seen the Shane label pegged as a Louisiana label. That's a good guess, as many of the label's acts are from the Pelican State, but this was another Huey P. Meaux label based in Conroe, Texas (later Pasadena). It appears to have started out as a regular label but over time became a vanity/custom label for bands who paid for the privilege. Most of the output is early sixties teen pop with some New OrleansR&B flavor (some sessions were probably done at Cosimo's), with early efforts from Wayne Talbert (as "Larry Wayne"), Gee Gee Shinn, Phil Bo, and Hank (Henry) Moore. Toward the end there was a good minor key effort from a Hispanic soul group, Steve and the Coronas, and garage band sounds from two Houston area groups, the Actioneers and the Eccentrics. The latter two appear to be the only groups on Shane to have been reissued, and the label remains painfully obscure.

“Shane was a label that I would put out stuff that I didn’t think quite had the quality to make it.” (Huey Meaux, 1992)

33 NEIL RICE Produced by Bob Millsap and) Huey P. Meaux
33-1 Throw Away Boy (Bob and Vivian Millsap) 1962
33-2 Whos Kissin’ My Girl (N. Rice)

34 LARRY WAYNE (WAYNE TALBERT) Houston Records invoice: October 11, 1962
34-1 It’s a Dog Gone Shame (G. Chord)
34-2 Two Hearts in Love (W. Talbert)

35 PHIL BO
34-3 Now Baby, Ain’t That Love 1962/1963
34-4 Tear Drops in the Morning (Jerry Matthews)

35 EARL BALL Produced by Crowder Enterprises
35-1 Mama Mama Mama (J. Miller 1963
35-2 Party Girl (E. Ball)

Note: Shane 35 issued twice.

36 LARRY WILSON and The Continentals
36-1 All of Your Love (Larry Wilson) 1963
36-2 I’ve Got It (Alaimo-Maynard)

37 GEORGE VINCENT
37-1 Beginning of the End (J. Duncan) 1963
37-2 I’ll Put the Hurt on You (J. Duncan)

38 GEE GEE SHINN with Bobby and The Rockers “Dist. By Crazy Cajun Enterprises, Conroe, Tx.”
75-863 I Apologize (R. Thibodeaux) 1963
75-864 Ain’t That a Shame (R. Thibodeaux)

39 JERRY FOWLER
39-1 Candy Apple Red (J. Fowler) 1963
39-2 Your Cheating Heart (Hank Williams)

40 JIMMY VELVIT
40-1 I Can’t Help It – I Love You (J. Mullins) 1963
40-2 Gotta’ Lotta’ Women (sic) (J. Mullins)

41 HANK MOORE
41-1 Big Daddy 1963
41-2 Peacock

42

43 THE NEWPORT SINGERS
43-1 November 22nd (W.A. Van Cleve, Jr.) 1963/1964
43-2 Spring Rains (Billy Basley)

44 THE CONTINENTALS of Lafayette, La.
Pussy Cat (Part One) 1963/1964
Pussy Cat (Part Two)

45 JAY RANDALL
45-1 Sorry My Friend 1963/1964
45-2 You’re All I Have

46 NEL NELSON
Believe What I Say 1963/1964
Keep on Running Around

47 JAC AND JAY with The Tom Toms
47-1 Peanut Butter (Barnum-Smith-Cooper-Goldsmith) DJ stamp: April, 1964
47-2 Monkey’s Uncle (James McClung II)

48 RONNIE LEE
All by Myself 1964
O Christina (Futch)

49 DANNY DAY and The Night Beats Arr. by: Char-Ret Productions
49-2 Your Turn to Cry (S. Cantrelle-C. Thomason-R. Aucion) 1964
49-1 Give Me a Chance to Cry (C. Thomason-R. Aucion)

50 THE CROWD
50-1 Waiting for You (Joe B. Crane) 1964
50-2 What Else Can I Do (Joe B. Crane)

51 BOBBY BOOGOS PAGE with Bobby and the Rockers
I’m the Boss 1964
Please Don’t Say Goodbye

52 JOHNNY and the Nightshades
S-52-1 That’s Why (Carey Wise) 1964
S-52-2 Would It Matter to You (Johnny Shannon)

53 LENNY MICKELS with Kerry and The Tempos
You Treat Me Bad 1964
A Sorry Plea

54 GENE RICKY and The Ravens
SH-1069 There’s More for You 1964
SH-1070 Without True Love

55 NEL NELSON
LH-1219 Looking at My Treasure (Marti Manning-Robert Thibodeaux) Late 1964
LH-1220 Somehow I Care (R. Thibodeaux)

56 BILLIE CARROLL
LH-1308 Gary Dean Brown (Dic Ferrier) Late 1964
LH-1309 Humbuggin’ Me (J. Miller-R. Morgan)

Tape box says, “John L. Corbell, Dublin, Texas.”

57 THE ACTIONEERS Session date: November 15, 1965
AC-1 It’s You (Ray Gilburn) Late 1965
AC-2 No One Wants Me (Ray Gilburn)

58 STEVE and The Coronas Late 1965
Love Me
Let Me Show You the World

59 DEAN SCOTT
Can’t Make My Heart Understand Late 1965/Early 1966
Two Years Ago Today

60 THE ECCENTRICS
TSS3660122A Baby, I Need You (L.J. Swift) Jan., 1966
TSS3660122B She’s Ugly (L.J. Swift)

61 DAVID PALMER
Can’t Help But Love You After All 1966
Every Step of the Way

Eric Records: The Discography

2011-07-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

Above: Big Sambo (James Young).

ERIC RECORDS: THE DISCOGRAPHY

While Eric Records may have been the brainchild of Ray Doggett, he may have only released 7001, by Jeannie and the Epics (who also had several singles on Dante), before selling or giving the label over to Huey P. Meaux and Chester Foy Lee. The label was based in Conroe, Tx., but seems to have done most of its sessions in New Orleans at Cosimo's Studio.

Eric was probably Meaux's most significant early label. Barbara Lynn made her debut on this label ("Dina & Patricia"). Joey Long recreated himself as a teen pop singer with several releases. Rockin' Dave Allen had a couple of early singles. Roy Perkins had a memorable stab at swamp pop ("Train to Nowhere"), and Cookie Roberts made one of the wildest rockers Meaux ever released ("Draggin' the Drive-Inns"). Presumably, a few of these were local hits along the Gulf Coast, but the only one I'm aware of is Big Sambo's "The Rains Came," a huge hit in Houston in 1962. Today, we're more likely to be wowed by the flipside, "At the Party," a '50s Little Richard style homage caught out of time.

Eric was discontinued in late 1964.

7001 THE EPICS
ACA 4418/386 Grounded (Ray Doggett-Lelan Rogers) ACA session: Aug. 31, 1961
ACA 4419/387 Wishing You Were Mine (Bill and Faye Shackelford)

7002 BUDDY LORTON
103-387 Makes No Never Mind (J. Bonvillian-P. Vidacovich) 1961
103-386 Time (Naomi Neville)

7003 BIG SAMBO AND THE HOUSE WRECKERS
The Rains Came (Meaux) 1961-62
At the Party (Meaux)

7004 BARBARA LYNN
Dina & Patricia (B.L. Ozen) 1962
Give Me a Break (B.L. Ozen)

7005 THE GIL BACA COMBO Featuring Vernon Drozd
75-472 Have You Ever Been Lonely (Peter DeRose-George Brown) 1962
75-473 Elmer’s Tune (Allrecht-Gallop-Jurgens)

7006 ROCKIN’ DAVE ALLEN
E-450 Irene (J. Miller-B. Jolivet) 1962
E-451 Forever Trying to Change My Ways (Kinghill)

7007 RUE JENNINGS
E-452 Blue Tears (Kerney Ravet) DJ wol: 7/2/62
E-453 Don’t Let It End (Kerney Ravet)

7008 BUDDY LORTON Houston Records invoice: June 18, 1962
E-454 A Fool I’ve Been (J. Bonvillian) 1962
E-455 Someday Some One (J. Bonvillian)

7009 COOKIE ROBERTS Houston Records invoice: Aug. 15, 1962
E-456 The Black House (B. Lewis-Jack Rhodes) 1962
E-457 Draggin’ the Drive-Inn’s (sic) (Jack Rhodes)

7010 MARY NELL Houston Records invoice: Sept. 21, 1962
E-458 Before You Go (Carter-Rhodes) 1962
E-459 Hello Mr. Lonely (Rhodes-Ebner)

7011 PORTER JORDAN AND THE DREAMERS Houston Records invoice: Sept. 29, 1962
Hanging Around the Corner 1962
Free Loader

7012 THE SHADOWS
E-463 Something Wild (Butch Palcher)
A Night at Smokey Joe’s

7013 JAMES YOUNG This is “Big Sambo’s” Real Name
E-645 Long Gone (Meaux) 1963
E-646 I Had to Cry (J. Scott-A. Matthias)

7014 ROCKIN’ DAVE ALLEN
E-466 Carol My Darling (Dave Stitch) 1963
E-467 Just to Hold My Hand (Perryman-Robey)

7015 JOEY LONG
I Cried 1963
Near You

7016 KEN HANA
HM-KH-1 Bird Dog (Jordan-Rhodes) 1963
HM-KH-2 False Love (Jordan-Rhodes)

7017 ROY PERKINS
Jole Blon 1963
Train to Nowhere

7018 JOEY LONG
HM-JL-1 If I Should Need You (Would You Say Yes) 1963
(Col. Tom Parker-Gabe Tucker)
HM-JL-2 You Can’t Give Back the Love (That I Gave To You)
(Porter Jordan-Jack Rhodes)

7019

7020 JOEY LONG
Teen Keen Baby
Lover’s Land

7021 MICKEY GILLEY
Whole Lotta Twistin’ Going On 1963
Fraulein

7022

7023 LI’L MARGIE CRANE
He Taught Me How 1964
Pretty Face, Cute Figure

7024 JOEY LONG
LH-1186 Bitter Cup of Sorrow (J. Longoria) Fall, 1964
LH-1187 Please Mr. Sandman (Let Me Sleep Tonight) (J. Longoria)

Dante Records: The Discography

2011-07-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

DANTE RECORDS: THE DISCOGRAPHY

Dante was one of the three labels started by Ray Doggett in Houston in 1961 (the other two were Cadette and Eric). It appears that B.J. Thomas and the Triumphs, Dean Scott, and Steve Tyrell all had their debut discs on Dante. Most of them probably didn't make much of an impression, but the Triumph's "The Lazy Man" and Steve Tyrell's "Payday Someday" were local hits on KNUZ and KILT. The final Dante came out in late 1964.

802 TRACY AND CARROL Produced by Mickey Gilley and Ray Doggett
ACA 4281 Dream on Dreamer (C. Gilley) ACA session: April 25, 1961
ACA 4282 Don’t Believe (Gilley-Harrin)

3001 RONNIE BYRD
ACA 4536 All American Guy (Louise Shields) ACA: Feb. 17, 1962
ACA 4537 B.T.O. (Louise Shields)

3002 THE TRIUMPHS
D-201 I Know It’s Wrong (B.J. Thomas) ACA session: Feb. 9, 1962
D-202 The Lazy Man (B.J. Thomas) KNUZ: #36 August, 1962

Note: Dante 3002 was picked up for national distribution by Smash and renumbered 1788.

3003 DEAN SCOTT
D-203 It’s Never Too Late (Dean Foelsing) 1962-63
D-204 I Want to Get Married (Dean Foelsing)

3004 THE EPICS Featuring Jeannie
D-205 I Want to Be Your Girl (Goldner-Barett) 1962-63
D-206 So Many Times (G. Smith-S. Jones)

3005 BOBBY CAVAZOS AND THE EPICS
D-207 Answer Me (Winkler-Rauch-Sigman) 1962-63
D-208 Here I Am (Larry Klein)

3006 JEANNIE AND THE EPICS
Mama Dear 1962-63
Glad to be Free

3007 STEVE TYRELL
D-211 Payday Someday (Spreen-Ashford-King) 1963-64
D-212 The Greatest Love (Ray Doggett)

Note: Dante 3007 reissued as All Boy 8506.

3008 EARL BALL
D-213 Going Steady, Married, or Engaged (E. Ball)1963-64
D-214 Hung Down My Head and Cried (Davis-Bruner)

3009 MIKE FRANKLIN Arranged by Glen Spreen
D-214(sic) I Should Try to Forget (A. Schroeder-G. Sharp-M. Kalmanosf) 1963-64
D-215 All Alone (M. Franklin)

3010 HARVEY WHITE
D-219 Touch My Shoulder 1963-64
Welcome Home (H. White-R. Doggett)

3011 THE TRIUMPHS
You’re Mine Tonight 1963-64
People Sure Act Funny (T. Turner)

3012 LITTLE GOLDEN Backed by: The Blackjacks
D-222 Jealousy (The Little Green Man) (Clara Mitchell) 1963-64
D-223 House of Memories (A.J. Lankford-M. Lankford)

3013

3014 JOHN and MARIE
LH-1225 Oo-Wee Baby (M. Alexander-J. Richmond) Late 1964
LH-1226 One Day (M. Alexander-J. Richmond)

Cadette Records: The Discography

2011-07-10T16:52:00.000-07:00

Above: C.L. and the Pictures, c. 1963. L to R: Charlie Broyles, Trent Poole, C. L. Weldon, Leroy Rodriguez, Bill Tillman, Harold Fulton.

CADETTE RECORDS: THE DISCOGRAPHY

Cadette was, along with Dante and Eric, one of Ray Doggett's early labels in Houston. There were only 10 known releases, with no known local hits, but Doggett apparently tried to corner the local market for teen sounds with early efforts from Gary Smith, C.L. and the Pictures, Vicky Vaughn, the Indigos, and others. Songwriters' credits show that Mickey Gilley, Y. Parker Wong, Clarence Garlow, Dale Gothia, Jerry Fowler, and Joe Ford (Ashford) were all involved as well. Steve Tyrell was on the scene but failed to attain a release on Cadette, which was discontinued in early 1963.

8001 GARY AND SONNY
ACA 4486 It’s All Over ACA session: Dec. 19, 1961
ACA 4487 You’re Gonna Love Me

8002 VICKY VAUGHN
CA-8-1 Butterflies (Ray Doggett-Mickey Gilley) ACA session: Feb. 20, 1962
CA-8-2 Love Fever Ray Doggett-Mickey Gilley)

8003 THE INDIGOS
CA-8-3 My Dream Girl (John Hazelbarth) 1962
CA-8-4 Beyond Your Wildest Dreams (Y. Parker Wong)

8004 JAY RICHARD
75-523 Anymore (Robey-Washington) 1962
75-524 I’ve Got the Best (D. Gothia-J. Fowler)

8005 C.L. AND THE PICTURES
CA-9 Love Will Find a Way (Clarence Garlow) 1962
CA-10 Then You’ll Know (Ray Doggett)

8006 BERRY WILLIAMS
CA-11 Playmates (P.D.) 1962-63
CA-12 As Lovely As Me (E. Williams)

8007 GARY & SONNY
Kiss and Run 1962-63

8008 BUDDY WILLIAMS
Life, Love, and Devotion 1963
Marry Him

8009 GINGER LAWLER
CA-17 Reassure Me (Ray Doggett) 1963
CA-18 I’m Learning Very Fast (Ray Doggett-J. Ashford)

8010 THE DEL-FI’S
D-216 No More No More (Thomas Sherman) vocal by Jim Lynch 1963
D-217 Magic of Your Love (B. Brown, Jr.-J. Lynch)

Below: The Del-Fi's share the stage with the Raiders of "Stick Shift" fame at Mr. Lucky's, c. 1963.

Alan Case

2011-07-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

The Mystery of Alan Case

Alan Case - "In My Dream"

Alan Case - "Don't Let Them Hurt You Anymore"

Alan Case - "Can Anybody be to Blame?"

Alan Case - "Paper Sunshine"

Alan Case - "Melinda"

Five strong, original folk songs (out of 12) from the otherwise unknown Alan Case -- a sole documented appearance at the Checkered Flag Club in Austin in the late sixties is the extent of my knowledge of this artist. The tape box simply says, "Alan Case, brought in by J. Roland Cole, pastor, St. Mark's Methodist Church, Austin." For some reason the tape was forwarded to Tantara Records, who sat on it.

Case wrote some typical upbeat love songs, but the stark, bleak vision that permeates dirges like "Melinda" and "Can Anybody be to Blame?" is what stands out today. It's a shame that a singer/songwriter of this caliber can be totally forgotten. The Austin Methodist Church connection adds another layer of intrigue here; several songs have religious undertones. (The titles given above are guesses.)

Austin musician Paul Tennison knew Case and remembered that Stacy Sutherland actually wanted to recruit him into the 1968-69 era 13th Floor Elevators as lead vocalist. This of course didn't happen. Mr. Case's subsequent moves are, at this point, a mystery.

Thanks to Craig Malek.

Neal Ford and the Fanatics (?) - "Get With the Tempo"

2011-07-03T19:04:00.001-07:00

Neal Ford and the Fanatics, 1966-67. From left: Jon Pereles, Johnny Stringfellow, John Cravey, Neal Ford, W.T. Johnson, and Lanier Greig.

Neal Ford and the Fanatics (?) - "Get With the Tempo"

"Get With the Tempo" appears on a tape box that simply says, "Larry Kane Lip Synchs," along with several other songs, including: A-440's "When I Get Out," Fever Tree's "Love Makes the Sun Rise" and "The Man Who Paints the Pictures," and Roger Miller's "King of the Road." There is also a commercial for the Young Rascals' first appearance in Houston, which happened in December, 1967, the probable month for this broadcast.

The band here is unknown, but it sure sounds like Neal Ford and the Fanatics with Jon Pereles on lead vocals. "Get With the Tempo" was probably a commercial for the Houston Post's Sunday "Tempo" magazine, hence the lyrics ("you heed the tempo, now read the tempo").

Thanks to Craig Malek.

Terri Sharp on Ventural

2011-07-02T15:29:00.002-07:00

Terri Sharp - A Love That Will Last / I'm Young (Ventural)

"A Love That Will Last"

"I'm Young"

This bouncy girl pop 45 gives us a nice change of pace from the male-dominated music scene of Houston. Terri Sharp was still in high school when she cut "A Love That Will Last" in Nashville in August, 1965. Nobody there was interested in releasing it so she settled on Ventural, one of Huey Meaux's family of labels in Pasadena. It sold well enough in Houston to attract attention from Fontana, who released in in Great Britain. It wasn't a hit, and neither was Terri's follow-up on White Cliffs. She later moved to Nashville and became a songwriter for Hank Williams. Jr's publishing company. According to her website, nowadays she's in San Antonio writing and singing in Spanish.

Below: Terri Sharp article in the Houston Post Woman's World Chic, February 13, 1966.Click to enlarge.

Neal Ford and the V.I.P.s on Mindi

2011-06-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

V.I.P.'s - Baby, Just You (Mindi 1700)

"Baby, Just You"

Neal Ford's '60s singles have been pretty well documented by now, but this fun frat-rocker apparently eluded everybody. Credited solely to the V.I.P.'s, this is obviously Neal on vocals (he's credited as songwriter) and probably Kim Espy on harmony vocal, i.e., the same duo who performed and recorded as The Ramadas. Why the name change? Who knows? I'm guessing this dates from 1963-64. Mindi appears to be a one-off label. The backing group is unknown but it sure sounds like it could be Johnny Stringfellow on lead. Neal, Johnny, and Jon Pereles would form the Fanatics not long after this.

Below: Earliest photo of Neal Ford and the Fanatics, Houston, 1965. L to R: Johnny Stringfellow, Neal Ford (back), John Cravey, W.T. Johnson, Jon Pereles.

The Coachmen V - "99th Floor"

2011-06-25T17:22:00.000-07:00

Above: Bill Gibbons and the Coachmen V, working the teen circuit in Houston, late 1965 or early 1966.

The Coachmen V - 99th Floor / Stay Away

"99th Floor"

"Stay Away"

The Coachmen V had not yet changed their name to the hipper "Moving Sidewalks" when they recorded this, their "lost" debut session at Gold Star on April 22, 1966. It took only two hours to record the two group originals, "99th Floor" and "Stay Away." Bob Lurie engineered. Steve Ames (who was still in Neal Ford & The Fanatics at this time) was also present, and claims this was the session that started his career as a producer. His brother, Richard Ames, had rolled out the first Tantara release around this time.

If this first attempt at "99th Floor" sounds flat and anemic, we should remember that these were 10th grade students in the studio for the first time, with an engineer who probably hated rock and roll. The group ordered six acetates but wisely decided to not release anything. A few months later, they went to Andrus Productions to re-cut the much stronger "99th Floor" we all know today. (They were in the 11th Grade by then.) As he had with the Elevators, Walt Andrus worked his magic to make a good song sound great, and it's hard to believe only a few months separate the two versions. The second "99th Floor" was a huge regional hit when it was eventually released on Tantara in March, 1967. (The delay was due to Mainstream Records, who originally signed the group, along with Fever Tree and the Six Pents, but passed on "99th Floor.")

Both versions of "99th Floor" feature the original line-up of Bill Gibbons (vocal, lead guitar), Dan Mitchell (drums), Kelley Parker (organ), and Mike Frazier (bass). Parker and Frazier were replaced by Tom Moore and Don Summers by early 1967, when Steve Ames drafted a promotional letter introducing the group (see below).

Below: Gold Star Studio receipt for the Coachmen V, April 22, 1966.

Below: Earliest known photographs of the Moving Sidewalks, taken at the Catacombs in Houston on or before October, 1966. Pictured is the original group (Bill Gibbons, Dan Mitchell, Kelley Parker, Mike Frazier). Click images to enlarge.

Below: Steve Ames promotional letter introducing the Moving Sidewalks, 1967. Note reference to Mainstream release of "99th Floor." Click image to enlarge.

The Continental V

2011-06-25T17:01:00.001-07:00

Continental V - Wake Me Up Girl / Tell My Why (Continental 101 & Radel 107)

"Wake Me Up Girl"

Very little information has surfaced on the mysterious Continental V, the group who crafted the psych classic "Wake Me Up Girl." A surviving studio receipt, however, gives us some clues. The session was done at Gold Star on July 29, 1967, with Jim Duff engineering. Karl Horn of 1818 Wayside Drive, Texas City, paid $219.50 for the studio time and 100 records. This was not an insubstantial investment -- $219 was the equivalent of spending $1,400 today. Both sides were recorded and mixed in three hours.

One hundred copies were pressed on the band's own Continental label, but these must have sold out quickly, and it was soon re-pressed on the Radel label. The producer credit shifted in the meantime from K. Horn to Ray Dale Boynton. And that was all from Texas City's number one psych band. I'm guessing that they didn't survive into the '70s.

Deniz Tek of Radio Birdman fame has recorded a new version of "Wake Me Up Girl" that is scheduled to be released this year.

Below: Gold Star Studio receipt for Continental V session.

Kurt Linhof on the Decline and Fall of International Artists

2011-05-14T18:12:00.000-07:00

Above: Kurt Linhof (second from left) with the Spidels in San Antonio c. 1966.

After decades of research, we now know plenty about the International Artists label during their early glory days of 1966-67. Far less attention has been paid to its shadowy and mysterious final year before declaring bankruptcy and shutting the doors in resigned anonymity in 1971. Unbelievably, what had been one of the most promising up-and-coming record labels in the Southwest just a couple of years before was by then a hemorrhaging mess of a company, having careened from the top of the pop charts with "Hot Smoke and Sassafras" to shambolic nothingness in no time.

One of the few surviving witnesses from this dark period is musician Kurt Linhof. A member of the San Antonio '60s band The Spidels (pictured above), he was in Houston working with The Children when he heard about a job opening at International Artists in early 1970. He was soon working 100 hours a week refurbishing the Brock Street studio, a renovation that never actually reached completion. Very little was recorded at IA during this final period, and only a few singles and one album (Endle St. Cloud's disappointing Thank You All Very Much) made it to vinyl. Kurt reveals all the gory details in our conversation below.

Remarkably, the surviving Children reformed for a session at IA (now Sugar Hill Studios) in 2004. Linhof recalls, "It was amazing to click like we had in '72-3, or whenever the last time together was. I think we figured 32 years since we'd all been together at once. It was kind of magic that we were still right in the groove together. The studio sounds much better than it used to and is so comfortable to work in."

Kurt is better known today for his line of Linhof custom guitars. A true guitar and amp guru, he is also working on finishing what should be one of the definitive books on Fender amps, entitled The Pre-CBS Fender Amp Collectors and Investors Guide.

KURT LINHOF: In 1969, I went up to Virginia to go to Antioch's experimental branch, then gave that up after a semester. When I came back in January '70, I played bass with the Children and took a job at International Artists, recording test sessions while helping wire the new 16-track board. They were pretty much bankrupt, so I was getting $2.50 an hour, working over 100 hours a week. We had to get this 16-track up, 'cause they had no income. They tore out the old recording shit to rewire it. We put in, like, 52 miles of wire. It was a 16-track; it was a big deal. It never worked, either. Because instead of hiring a real engineer to design it, they hired this guy that'd just come out of Elkins Institute (laughs)...and paid him, you know, four dollars an hour (laughs) to design this massively complex state of the art studio.

What is the Elkins Institute?

It's like DeVry Institutes are today. It's a tech school, trade school. I applied that summer, the summer of '70. Honest to God, they wouldn't let me in 'cause my hair was too long (laughs). I couldn't even pay 'em money to be a student!

This was in Houston?

Yeah. I was assigned as production engineer for a new band IA had found named Denim. And this is what's really cool: I was 19, and I got a credit in Billboard as Production Engineer (of Denim). I think it was the July 18th (1970) issue. I thought it was front page, it was actually on page 18, after seeing the copy. "Producer"....can you imagine? I was 19. I'd been riding the knobs for all of about two weeks.

Below: Billboard, July 18, 1970.

This board, we could never get more than 9 channels working. Once you got into the tenth channel, the whole system would go into some sort of parasitic oscillation (laughs)...all the meters would peg and everything would blow up.

So, it really wasn't happening. And they called in experts -- we bought a bunch of real expensive modules -- and they called in experts from Tektronix or whoever had built the modules, and they couldn't figure 'em out. 'Cause this guy from Elkins had designed this Frankenstein system with hundreds of ground loops.

They never really got the studio working. They'd hired Dale Hawkins as the President. The guy who wrote "Susie-Q." And Dale showed up once in awhile. He never, ever oversaw me on a session. Even though I was his lead engineer, I guess. There were two of us...so I don't know what I was. But anyway, Hawkins would show up once in awhile and one time -- he had a sidekick named "Steve" -- they both came to the studio one day wearing zoot suits. Dale had an Eldorado convertible. And they had a chrome-plated Thompson (machine gun) with 'em, playing gangsters. Driving around Houston, drinking, with a Thompson under the seat...a chrome-plated Thompson.

Below: Dale Hawkins.

It was crazy. The whole place was bugged. J.L. Patterson and what was that other guy...

Bill Dillard?

B.J. Dillard. And J.L. Patterson. I don't know if they were friends, or...they didn't show up much, either. They'd come sometimes late at night, sneak up to the upstairs office, and have meetings. I'd see 'em around, because I was working 24 hours a day. Anyway, the place was bugged. They had wires running back to their houses so they could listen to each other and what was going on at IA in their absence . I forget who bugged who. Either B.J. had done it, or... J.L. had the place bugged, so he could listen to what Dillard was saying about him behind his back.

Dennis, the Elkins engineer, had helped wire this up. And Dennis was also probably helping build the blue boxes, where you could make free long distance calls. There was a little of that going on. And either Patterson or Dillard was into that deal. Don't know who they sold them to, but it was a "living."

Yeah, I think Patterson went to jail for that later.

That's right. And Dennis knew about it but didn't get busted. Dennis got hired away and went to work for IMC Drilling Mud. They probably paid him like seven times what he was making there (at IA).

Below: International Artists Studio. Click to enlarge.

Do you remember Dennis's last name? He's not credited on any of the IA records or papers.

Bledsoe, but he didn't do any of the "art", he was strictly a wire jockey. And apparently had no music talent at all. He also owned a PA system. Homebrew. Real powerful. He would rent it, but he would have to run it. He rented it out to Steve Miller once, who had his own guy running it. But Dennis had to babysit it. And they had it turned up too loud. Dennis turned it off, unplugged it, and said that, you know, "You can't use this." This was at a gig! Dennis took his toy and went home.

Did you ever see guys like Ray Rush or Fred Carroll at IA?

I think Fred Carroll came around once or twice, but there was nothing to do... 'cause there was no system.

The other famous thing about IA that I remember was, for monitors, they used three Altec A-7 Voice of Theater speakers (because they had used 3-track Ampexes forever). Those giant things you'd find in an old movie theater? They had three of those. And the control room was the size of a small kitchen. So there's these giant boxes in your face. It's no wonder early IA's recordings sound like they do (laughs). 'Cause that's what we mixed on. God, it was...I ran a mix, I think it was for Denim, and I came up to Denver. Walt Andrus had given me the name of a guy, Dick Darnell, who had the best studio in Denver. I took this tape that I had done and put it on his system -- he had a flat system, a real recording studio -- and it was the worst sound I'd ever heard. And that was my work. I was up there, kind of looking for work. Fat chance with that example...

So you thought you'd play him this tape, he might be impressed...

Yeah. I play this tape and it was unbelievably bad. God, it was awful. It brought me right back to where I belonged. I even spun a few untouchable settings on the monitor system to balance it - and of course, blamed it on IA's system, but it was just as much my lack of training as our terrible mix facility. Darnell wasn't happy.

So even Bubble Puppy had left IA by this time?

Yeah. "Hot Smoke and Sassafrass" had sold 600,000 copies or something, and it bought IA new carpet and a new sofa. They were very proud of that. Really. They talked about it. We (The Children) did some gigs with them around south Texas, made no money, then they headed for L.A., to become "Demian", after apparently "borrowing" their IA masters one night. That's all hearsay, but I have no reason to doubt it.

My Favorite Memory was - the front closet in the waiting room was completely full of "defective" Elevators record returns. Thousands of 'em. I took a few. They were "defective" I think because of the jug. (Laughs) People would listen to 'em and go, "What's that noise?" I'm serious. Like a record store owner in Arkansas would put the record on, and hear that jug, say, "there's something wrong with this record," and send it back. And it was also just returns, because the Elevators -- they're not gonna sell in Arkansas. Just too fuckin' weird, man. But there were boxes of 'em. This whole closet was full of albums and singles. There were thousands, literally. A good percentage of Elevator records were probably in this closet!

So how long did you work there? A few months?

Yeah, maybe three or four months. Maybe six. And, like I said, Dale Hawkins was never around. And he was on some sort of big retainer, I guess. But he got my name in Billboard. I mean, he still had that kind of clout.

International Artists in Billboard, March 15, 1969

2011-05-14T17:54:00.000-07:00

The music industry trade press took very little notice of the International Artists label. That's what makes this 1969 article in Billboard so surprising. Datelined "New York" (?), we learn that IA is currently planning an ambitious expansion after a "management overhaul" eight months prior. The circumstances of that overhaul are unknown, as Bill Dillard, Noble Ginther, and J.L. Patterson, "Houston businessmen" (no mention is made of the law firm), were in charge before the overhaul. Lelan Rogers was long gone by this point, and Ray Rush was now the general manager. (Fred Carroll was also back in the fold by then, but is not mentioned.) The idea that IA would be releasing "a minimum" of two albums a month is quite puzzling when we consider that the label only released three LPs total between then and the bankruptcy in 1971. The Shades LP never materialised.

Bubble Puppy was hitting with "Hot Smoke and Sassafrass" at the time but, they, too, didn't get a mention.

Mr. Rogers' Cabinet of Curiosities: Dissecting "Epitaph For A Legend"

2011-04-18T18:47:00.001-07:00

Various Artists - Epitaph For A Legend 2CD digipack with 40 page booklet (Charly/International Artists Snax 620)

Official webpage.

The 1980 IA retrospective, Epitaph For A Legend, is now on its third or fourth go-round in the digital era. This 2010 iteration from Charly is, by all appearances, the 'definitive' version, if such a term can accurately be ascribed to an album that's mostly famous among record collectors for being so remarkably un-definitive.

A large part of the problem with Epitaph is its maddening lack of self-definition. Is it a greatest hits package? No. IA only had two of those, and neither are here. Is it a rarities package? No, because several of the rarest singles are excluded. Is it a smorgasbord of previously unissued goodies, carefully selected for quality? No, nearly one-third of the 27 cuts had been released. Epitaph, then, is 'none of the above,' a jumbled potpurri of sounds, presided over by their original producer and Svengali, Lelan Rogers. Epitaph less resembles a dignified 'epitaph' than it does a hastily-organized rummage sale held by distant relatives after the death of an eccentric but somewhat appreciated uncle. Some jewels are to be discovered, to be sure, but one has to dig through piles of rubbish to find them. For example, Bubble Puppy, IA’s biggest group, are nowhere to be found on Epitaph -- the first clue to the buyer that things here are quite amiss. (Years would pass before we realized why: the Puppy had been produced by Ray Rush, not Rogers, and Lelan was only-too-happy to keep the focus on two bands he produced, the Elevators and the Red Crayola. Despite its Top 20 status, 'Hot Smoke & Sassafrass' passes unmentioned in Jon Savage's interview with Rogers, enclosed within both the original double LP and this CD.)

And it wouldn’t be an IA album without a garish, hand-drawn cover too amateurish-looking even for a tax write-off or vanity labels. Each of the original 12 LPs are given their own tombstone (the singles apparently weren’t given a proper burial -- an unintentionally ironic statement on the album’s contents). Anyone expecting, say, a photograph or two of the bands has clearly set their expectations way too high. In the packaging department, Epitaph for a Legend fully complements the DIY non-aesthetic of contemporaneous early garage-psych bootlegs like Boulders and Texas Flashbacks.

Retrospectives of this sort almost always include some information on the artists. Even the most oblivious, only-in-it-for-the-money discount label knows this. But clearly this, also, is expecting too much of Lelan Rogers, who instead of providing information on the bands or recordings, merely inserted his 1978 Jon Savage interview into the original package, as if it constituted the final word of IA. Actually, the interview raises more questions that it answers (not the least for its omission of Bubble Puppy), and much of what Rogers says is of questionable accuracy. It is not wholly without value, but I believe much of what he said has since been supplanted by better research. This is not to denigrate the man too much. We should not forget that Lelan's job at all times was to sell records, not write history books, and at least he was making an effort to do something, within his limitations.

Lelan Rogers, amidst his paisley curtains, working the phones in an attempt to create a hit, 1960s.

Mistaking the enthusiasm of a few LA, Texas, and UK record collectors for a larger, general interest, Rogers pressed several thousand copies of Epitaph, but his naïve optimism for the revived IA label was soon met with cold reality: only a few hundred copies actually sold at the time of release, and Lelan was forced to wholesale the rest at cost to Midnight Records in New York (where it’s been a list staple now for decades). It probably never occurred to him that sales might have been stronger had the album been responsibly packaged and logically laid out. Lelan’s timing was off, too – interest in obscure sixties labels and music was only then getting off the ground (Pebbles Volume 1 had just appeared), and years passed before a real market developed for this kind of thing. If he had waited until 1986, and had spent a little more thought on packaging and track selection, Lelan might well have had an underground 'hit' with Epitaph.

Billboard 13 October 1979

Charly has seen fit to finally give the album the proper liner notes it should have had back in '80 (there are still no band photos). Mole from the Higher State has sorted out what was originally released and what wasn't, helpfully filling in whatever info has come to light over the last three decades. Jon Savage’s interview with Rogers is presented here yet again, with a thoughful new introduction for context. Remarkably, Jon reveals that his introduction to IA came in 1971, when he discovered a copy of Easter Everywhere at Doug Dobell's 77 Charing Cross record store. He was thus as prepared as anyone to chat with Lelan, whom he recalls 'had exactly the right amount of passion mixed with just that hint of carnival chicanery' -- one of the 'old school' of record business operators who could work the phones and BS with enough DJs enough to help create a hit, even for a local two-bit operation like IA.

Disc 1

The Chayns - Night Time (Is The Right Time)

Epitaph begins with a bit of a let-down: a San Antonio garage band’s inept and redundant version of the Strangeloves. This was released on the strictly-local 'Alamo Audio' label first, and, after apparently becoming a minor hit, was licensed by IA for some hoped-for larger distribution that never happened. (This 'buy-in' was unusual; most of what IA released was recorded by them.) One wonders if Lelan was even aware of the Strangeloves’ vastly superior version, which hit #30 in the Billboard Hot 100 in late 1965.

The Patterns - In My Own Time

This is more like it: an unknown group tackling a little-known Bee Gees album cut. Would have made a respectable single at the time.

The Chaparrels - I Tried So Hard

Another unknown group, but presumably the same Houston bunch who put out 'Roxanne' on the Notsuoh label when IA passed on them (comped on the Houston Hallucinations LP). One of the few real surprises of Epitaph, 'I Tried So Hard' is an energetically fuzz-driven, harder-rocking cop of 'Along Comes Mary' that practically screams 'hit.' Though Lelan presumably produced the original session, no explanation is given as to why it was left unreleased.

Thursday's Children - A Part Of You

One of Houston’s better rock bands of the era, Thursday’s Children had two highly regarded singles for IA. They didn’t sell, and were rare and unheard at the time of Epitaph. Surely that meant their inclusion was warranted here, yes? Er, no. Instead we’re treated to 'A Part of You,' which is decent, but sounds demo-y, and not nearly as good as any of the four single sides.

The Rubayyat - If I Were A Carpenter

Strangely credited to Electric Rubayyat on the original Epitaph LP, we now know that this was Danny Galindo’s post-Elevators group, comprised of Austin and San Antonio players (including Bill Hallmark from the Golden Dawn). This was released as a single in early 1968, and is a pleasant though pedestrian cover of the Tim Hardin/Bobby Darin hit from two years prior. The American Blues released a stronger version at approximately the same time.

Sonny Hall - Poor Planet Earth

Forgettable novelty nonsense from a washed-up lounge/country singer, completely out-of-place here. This didn’t deserve its’ original 45 release, much less a reappearance on what was supposed to be a rock/psych-oriented retrospective.

Inner Scene - Communication Breakdown

Led Zeppelin goes to the garage. A fun, originally unissued version, though, like the Rubayyat’s 'If I Were a Carpenter,' redundant, and hardly worth dredging up when far superior material was left waiting in the wings.

The Red Crayola - Hurricane Fighter Plane

Mono version of the master take of this psych goodie, the closest any Texas band got to sounding like early Pink Floyd; presented here sans the extraneous 'freakout' noise (and lousy fidelity) of the familiar fake-stereo version heard on Parable for Arable Land.

The Red Crayola - Pink Stainless Tail (Demo) / Nickle Niceness (Demo) / Vile, Vile Grass (Demo) / Transparent Radiation (Demo)

Rough drafts for songs that were re-recorded for Parable. Lelan obviously had a soft spot for this group, whom he thought were 'gimmicky' enough to hit as a novelty act, a la the Mothers of Invention or Tiny Tim. One demo would have been appropriate here; four is excessive overkill.

The Emperors - I Want My Woman

Los Angeles-area group who recorded this for Lelan’s Sabra label in 1965. Nothing to do with IA, therefore perfectly appropriate for inclusion on Epitaph.

Lost And Found - 25 M.P.H.

Basic demo of a dull, unissued song from this underachieving Houston group. Their IA album Everybody’s Here captures a third-rate Elevators copy band that never really outgrew their roots as surf instrumentalists; however they rallied to create a fabulous single-only release, 'When Will You Come Through' in ’68. That would have been the logical choice for Epitaph, but any listener still expecting logic at this point in the programme is an exceptionally slow learner.

CD 1 thus concludes with just 14 tracks, at least six of which are redundant and/or mediocre, and less than 40 minutes of music.

Disc 2

Big Walter - Breakfast In Bed

Besides Lightnin’ Hopkins, pianist Big Walter Price was the only African-American artist to record for otherwise lily-white IA. Walter had recorded some R&B for Peacock in the fifties, and 'Breakfast in Bed' is basically ossified early fifties R&B dusted off and given a contemporary rock gloss. Like the 'The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions' LP, it’s 'blues rock' not likely to please either blues or rock audiences. Certainly not bad, though for curiosity value only.

Dave Allen - C. C. Rider / Saturday A.M. Blues

Dave Allen was a white bluesman who had some singles for Jin and a worthwhile 1969 album for IA, Color Blind. It's apparent from listening to these two that they are from the same session that produced Big Walter's 'Breakfast in Bed.' Neither are as good as anything on Color Blind. 'C.C. Rider' is a generic version of the done-to-death standard, and 'Saturday A.M. Blues' is a forgettable Lightnin' Hopkins imitation.

Lightnin' Hopkins - Conversation With Lightnin' Hopkins

This could have been entitled, 'Conversation With Two Incoherent Drunkards' and no one would have known the difference. This is apparently Lelan attempting to 'interview' Hopkins, an excerpt of a three-hour tete-a-tete recorded during the Free Form Patterns sessions.

Lightnin' Hopkins - Black Ghost Blues

A good outtake from the otherwise forgettable Free Form Patterns LP. Typical Hopkins.

Roky Erickson - Interview with Roky (KSAN 4/1/78)

A complete waste of space. 'Roky, what do you think of the Sex Pistols?'

The Spades - You're Gonna Miss Me / We Sell Soul

The first LP appearance of Roky’s pre-Elevators garage band, originally released on the Zero label in Austin. That might raise some eyebrows: 'What are they doing on an IA comp, then?,' you might ask. Dunno, though it must have been exciting to obtain these two rare, practically unknown tracks at the time. Though far superior vinyl rips could be (and have been) made from the 45 using today’s technology, that would be expecting too much, and Charly has opted instead to use the dreadful needle-drops done in the ‘70s for the original LP.

Roky Erickson & Clementine Hall - Splash 1 / Right Track Now

Two 'unplugged' Elevators songs, exposing their folk music roots and sympathies. Mysteries when they appeared on Epitaph, years of archaeological research has established that these are Easter Everywhere outtakes.

The 13th Floor Elevators - Wait For My Love

By far the most significant track on Epitaph when it appeared was this previously-unknown Bull of the Woods-era pop-rocker from Stacy Sutherland. Recorded after Lelan left IA, it is the most commercial song in the Elevators’ entire canon (after 'You’re Gonna Miss Me') -- and yet, astonishingly, was rejected both as a single and an LP track. The band achieves a tightness largely absent from the ’68 sessions, and 'Wait For My Love' compares favourably to Moby Grape’s first LP – not a sound one would readily expect from the Elevators. An inferior rewrite, entitled "Til Then," did finally make it on Bull of the Woods.

Aurally, this sounds like a second-generation tape dub, and since the exact same version appears on the 2009 box set, we must assume that it’s all that survived. A newly-remixed version was released as a new IA single this month (April, 2011).

The 13th Floor Elevators - 60-Second Radio Spot for 'Bull Of The Woods'

Interesting radio commercial from 1969, aimed at a San Francisco audience, where it was presumed they still had a following (though we now know that they hadn't appeared there since '66).

The 13th Floor Elevators - Fire Engine

Mono single mix. Mildly different from the stereo version, but something like the mono single version of 'Levitation' would have been a far better choice. But that would have actually required some thought and deliberation.

CD 2 finishes the programme at a mere 13 tracks: four pedestrian blues numbers, two 'spoken-word' pieces, two Spades tracks unrelated to IA, two acoustic Elevators demos, and one great track, 'Wait For My Love.' An exceptionally poor showing.

And there you have it. Twenty-seven tracks on two CDs, well over half of which would have been rejected for Pebbles Volume 89; nothing at all by two of IA's greatest bands, Bubble Puppy and the Golden Dawn (and no explanation for their exclusion); four tracks that have nil to do with IA; a clutch of unremarkable demos; a couple of rambling spoken-word pieces; and – almost by accident! – a few great tracks that almost justify the hype. All in all, Epitaph was/is a textbook example of why label owners should leave this sort of thing to the fans. It could have been great. But the same could be said of IA as a whole, couldn't it?

New 13th Floor Elevators / Red Crayola Vinyls on International Artists

2011-04-18T18:13:00.001-07:00

According to Shindig magazine's website, two new vinyl 45 rpms have been issued on International Artists for the first time in 40 years. This is most welcome news. The 13th Floor Elevators' lost sixth single, planned for 1968 but for unexplained reasons left completely unissued, "Wait For My Love," is finally being pressed, as is the Red Crayola's "Hurricane Fighter Plane," both with "correct" label artwork for the time in which they should have been released. Both have been remixed by Sonic Boom and are limited to 2,000 copies. Along with the most recent spate of reissues, this is the first time International Artists material has been intelligently reissued since ... er ... well actually IA has never been intelligently reissued, come to think of it. So this is a completely new experience.

Check your local shops for availability.