Rickenbackers and harpsichords

Contemplating an alternate history of the '60s

Before we play “What if?,” some brief notes about my guest appearance on a podcast and the fires in Los Angeles.

Community relations

I was a guest on the Dig Me Out podcast this week and we talked about the the Singles of 1995, which gave me a chance to rail against the industry’s dumb decision to stop releasing physical singles and force everyone to buy a $18.98 list CD to get that one song they liked.

Too many of those hit songs didn’t sound like the rest of the CD, and listeners got so sick of what many decided was a scam that the world was ready for the Napster free download orgy at the turn of the century.

Just like every other kid in the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, I got into music habit by saving my allowance to buy 99¢ 45s and later graduated to albums as my taste developed. But it was those 7” records with the big holes that were the onramp for my life in music.

A we recorded the podcast, it was a bit weird to talk about a year when I was in the middle of things as an A&R executive, releasing records that were competing with and being judged in the context of the records we discussed.

Dig Me Out’s J Dziak and Tim Minneci are doing excellent work discussing alternative music of the ’90s and metal from the ’80s. They were great hosts and I really enjoyed the contributions from On Repeat Records writer Kevin Alexander.

I’m slowly coming around to Ted Gioia’s idea that independent media is the future of social discourse. That’s a really difficult concept for writers who have spent their careers striving to place their work in big city daily newspapers or glossy magazines. Those institutions have increasingly narrow ideas of what works for their imagined readership. Most of the best work I’m reading now is self-published.

Write for yourself. You might be surprised by how many people will be willing to support your work.

The god of hellfire visits LA

Everyone in the music community knows someone who’s lost a home or business over the past few days, and many of us also have civilian family members who’ve suffered unimaginable losses.

I have a wide range of connections on social media, and several of my Facebook contacts are telling me that all this destruction is divine retribution for the sins of the artist community. It’s no use trying to explain that Southern California is experiencing the logical outcome of a hundred years of zoning failures, with the fallout accelerated by climate change.

Look, I understand that a lot of people don’t think we should mitigate the possible outcomes of climate change. They’re willing to accept the risk involved and believe that society and the economy will adapt to changing conditions. What’s so frustrating is that many of those people don’t have the courage to acknowledge their tough-minded positions. Why not advocate for what you believe instead of insisting that nothing’s going on in the hopes that you can stall things until it’s too late to make any changes?

If you’re curious about the underlying causes of this disaster, I’ll suggest two towering classics by the late urban theorist Mike Davis: City of Quartz and Ecology of Fear. Mike tends to breathe fire in his work, but don’t let his politics obscure the message. He saw all of this coming over three decades ago, and lays out the historical details to back up his theories.

I just started to read City of Quartz again and I’m still floored by how Davis weaves cultural history and urban development into his story that Los Angeles is just as much an idea as it is a physical place. He’s one of the least doctrinaire political writers I've read, so there’s none of the tedious rhetoric that makes political discourse so tiresome. Any book that mixes Thomas Pynchon, James Ellroy, and Ornette Coleman with a detailed analysis of zoning laws is all right by me.

What’s happening in California is a failure of the system. I have nothing but empathy for those who lost their homes and now have to decide whether to rebuild in a place where they probably won’t be able to get new insurance.

All of the above was prompted by news that Bob Clearmountain’s home and studio was destroyed as the fire swept through Pacific Palisades in a neighborhood that I never thought was a fire risk. Build a house in Malibu, you know that it might burn down someday. Build in the Palisades if you don’t want that kind of stress, or at least that’s what I thought.

I spent many of my favorite days at Bob’s studio, working on albums by Lisa Loeb and Aimee Mann and doing some Hole remixes that have never seen the light of day because Interscope didn’t like them. Bob was always welcoming, patient, and happy to answer questions about the amazing records he’d mixed over the course of a storied career.

I’m sharing a video of the studio tour that Bob gave to Sweetwater in 2023. Watching this is just devastating because the room was such a magical place. Fortunately, the people who made it that way can rebuild and continue to do the work that made the room so special. This is just one story out of hundreds, but it’s the one that’s been occupying my mind.

There are thousands of people who have fewer resources than the celebrities the media loves to talk about, and they’ve got an even harder road ahead than the people we know about. It’s time for some strong leadership in Sacramento and Washington to lead serious discussions about how our society is going to handle these climate events. That shouldn’t be a problem now that we can all see what happens when we ignore the inevitable, right?

For anyone who wants to know more about Bob Clearmountain’s work, Rick Beato did an excellent interview with Bob last year on YouTube. Watch and learn.

What if Joan sold out just a few years earlier? (Macall Polay for Searchlight Pictures)

Back to our regular programming

This one is inspired by the Bob Dylan movie A Complete Unknown and American Baroque, an upcoming compilation of late ’60s songs put together by the great Bob Stanley.

The Dylan picture shuffles the facts in an attempt to tell a specific story. I haven’t surveyed the internet, but I’m sure there are Dylanologists who are furious that the filmmakers took the guy who shouted “Judas” at Dylan for going electric at the May 17, 1966 Manchester Trade Hall show and turned him into a woman at the July 25, 1965 Newport Folk Festival gig that’s the climax of the movie.

I consider it an incredible act of kindness that everyone involved with this movie chose to collapse the story into two house and spare us a 10-episode prestige cable series. The filmmakers deliver their point in an appropriate context and let us all go home so we can listen to some Dylan records.

Since they were already playing fast and loose with the details, I wish they’d let Pete Seeger actually grab that axe so that Toshi could put her hand on his arm to stop him before he chopped the power cables. If the story that Pete wanted to cut the power is apocryphal (or even if it’s not), why not go all the way and let him get ready to take a swing to silence Bob’s infernal racket?

The music cues are all very good, letting the lyrics reinforce the story. I’m sure there will be a lot of Wonka fans checking out Bob Dylan for the first time. I wasn’t bored or embarrassed, so I’m not going to complain about a movie. Don’t let me stop any of you from airing your grievances in the comments.

What stuck with me most in A Complete Unknown was the moment when Albert Grossman told Joan Baez that she should leave Vanguard Records and let him get her a deal with Columbia Records. What a great idea!

Joan stuck to her folk music bona fides for the entire decade, finally signing to A&M and making a legit pop record in 1975 with Diamonds & Rust. I like to think about the records she could have made if she’d given in ten years earlier.

What kind of records would Joan have made?

Also fueling this line of thinking is the track list for Bob Stanley’s American Baroque compilation, which is set for release on January 31.

You may know Bob from the band Saint Etienne, an early ’90s alternative radio staple who just released one of their best albums at the end of 2024. The Night is a gleaming example of the kind of ambient techno/classic ’60s pop hybrid that some of us A&R types thought was going to be the next big thing before we were all swept away by the Nü Metal Tide.

Bob’s also written some of the best histories of music (Let’s Do It: The Birth of Pop Music: A History and Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!: The Story of Pop Music from Bill Haley to Beyoncé) and an excellent biography of the Bee Gees that gives their early psych-leaning records the weight they deserve. He’s also a producer of imaginative compilations for the UK’s Ace Records reissues label.

America Baroque takes its cue the harpsichords, cellos, and flutes that flooded pop music after George Martin help the Beatles expand their musical palette, which in turn inspired American bands like the Left Banke, the Association, Love, and the Beach Boys.

I've learned the hard way not to make assumptions about the music education that anyone’s getting these days, so let me take a moment to encourage you to listen to “Walk Away Renee,” “Pandora’s Golden Heebie Jeebies,” “She Comes in Colors,” and “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” (preferably the mono mixes) if you don’t know them already.

OK, here’s what I keep thinking about.

If Albert Grossman had convinced Joan Baez to leave Vanguard for Columbia, he certainly would have kept her out of the clutches of NYC A&R man John Hammond, who had signed Bob Dylan but recently proved himself reluctant (if not entirely unable) to follow Dylan where he wanted to go.

Tom Wilson would have been the most likely candidate to become Joan’s in-house producer. He saved Simon & Garfunkel’s career by overdubbing a band onto their duo recording of “The Sounds of Silence” after the duo had given up and called it quits. In spite of the fact that the record went to #1 early in 1966, I’m not sure Paul Simon ever forgave him.

Wilson, who got his start as a jazz DJ at WHRB, produced/managed the chaos for Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home LP and the “Like a Rolling Stone” single before leaving CBS to go to MGM/Verve, where he signed the Mothers of Invention and produced the Velvet Underground.

Both producers/A&R men make brief appearances in the movie, with Hammond portrayed by David Alan Basche and Wilson played by Eric Berryman.*

However, I’d like to think that someone would have had the sense to take Joan to Los Angeles to work with Terry Melcher, the label’s other A&R/producer hot hand.

Rather than remember Terry as the guy who pissed off Charles Manson when he previously occupied the house that Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate rented at 10050 Cielo Drive, let’s think about the records he made.

Terry got his foot in the door at CBS when he wrote and produced “Move Over Darling,” the title song for his mom Doris Day’s 1963 movie. With an arrangement by Jack Nitschze, it aimed to modernize her sound and it worked in the UK, where it was a Top Ten single. He also produced the followup “Oo-wee Baby,” a Barry Mann/Cynthia Weill song that wasn’t released at all in the U.S. After her failed attempt to keep up with the kids, Doris retreated into the least interesting easy listening imaginable, but Terry’s career took off.

Melcher hit the big time when he and the Byrds transformed Pete Seeger’s tedious “Turn! Turn! Turn!” into a brilliant single that peaked at #1 in the USA. (Thanks to everyone involved for not choosing to cover Pete’s versions of “Wimoweh” or “Guantanamera.”) That followed the #1 single they’d enjoyed with a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man.”

He switched over to working with Paul Revere & the Raiders after Byrds manager Jim Dickson, who wanted to producer the Byrds himself, forced Melcher out so he could take over. Columbia wasn’t having that, so Terry’s boss (and his mom’s regular producer) Allen Stanton took over for the third Byrds album Fifth Dimension.

Melcher had an impressive run with the Raiders, which included the Top Ten singles “Just Like Me,” “Kicks,” “Hungry,” “Good Thing,” and “Him or Me? — What’s it Gonna Be?” As discussed in a previous issue (Hope Despite the Times), Quentin Tarantino and I agree that Paul Revere & the Raiders are woefully underrated. Was the hidden Raiders/Manson connection in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood an intentional move from QT? Magic Eight Ball says, “Signs point to yes.”

Part of what made Melcher vulnerable with the Byrds was his willingness to recruit session musicians from the Wrecking Crew to replace band members on the singles he produced. “Mr. Tambourine Man” features Hal Blaine on drums, Larry Knechtel on bass, Leon Russell on piano, Jerry Cole on rhythm guitar, and Bill Pitman also on rhythm guitar. Many of those same players turn up on the Raiders singles.

Circling back to Joan Baez, I wish she’d made a few albums’ worth of songs that sounded like this:

The Stone Poneys’ “Different Drum” is the highlight of American Baroque. It’s also the highlight of 1967, and my favorite Linda Ronstadt record. Mike Nesmith wrote “Different Drum” before he auditioned for the Monkees, and the show’s producers passed on the song.

For the Stone Poneys single, Capitol producer/A&R rep Nik Venet sidelined the band and recorded this with Don Randi on harpsichord, Jim Gordon on drums, Jimmy Bond on bass, Bernie Leadon and Al Viola on guitar, and strings conducted by Sid Sharp. This is the absolute peak of Los Angeles assembly-line record production.

I can’t help thinking about what would have happened if Joan Baez had worked with A team musicians while having access to first-rate songwriters who could tailor material to her strengths. What if Gene Clark and David Crosby had been given the opportunity to write for her? Woudn’t Roger Jim McGuinn have lined up to play some Rickenbacker 12-string on her record?

Melcher made a record with Gentle Soul in 1968 that suggests what he could have brought to a collaboration with Baez. The duo’s self-penned material isn’t quite up to the level of Melcher’s best work, but the playing from Ry Cooder (guitar), Larry Knechtel (organ), and Van Dyke Parks (harpsichord) is spectacular and Melcher’s production makes the songs come off far better than they would have sounded with just acoustic guitar and vocals.

Unfortunately, Joan Baez didn’t have that kind of studio support.

Producer Maynard Solomon (founder of Vanguard Records) had totally lost the plot by 1965, still putting Baez’s voice front and center with the least interesting arrangements he could devise for the mustiest songs he could find. Even when she recorded a Beatles or Donovan song, Solomon found a way to drain all the energy out of the track.

Even when she worked with ace players Pig Robbins, Jerry Kennedy, Jerry Reed, Pete Drake, Johnny Gimble, Fred Carter) in Nashville for 1968’s Any Day Now, Solomon worked his special magic to make a profoundly boring album.

I will endorse Joan’s 1965 cover of “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” because it’s impossible to screw that song up.

Baez had a profound influence on women who made great pop records in the s’60s: Ronstadt, Bev Bivens from We Five, Judy Dyble and Sandy Denny from Fairport Convention, Joni Mitchell, and Laura Nyro all owe a lot to Joan Baez, and every one of them made much better records than Baez did. Even Judy Collins got with the program and was making contemporary-sounding records by 1966, far better than the ones Joan was making for Vanguard.

Bob Dylan showed Joan Baez the way. She instead decided to stick with the Alan Lomax/Dave Van Ronk/Pete Seeger crowd and continue to wear their purity ring until she kicked Solomon to the curb and let Nashville wizard Norbert Putnam producer blessed are… in 1971.

Guess what? She had a hit single with her version of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” which reached #3 in the USA and #6 in the UK. Imagine what could have happened if she’d started working with real record makers in 1965.

That’s most of what I remember from A Complete Unknown. I should probably watch it again.

A symbol of my individuality and my belief in personal freedom

Sailor Ripley and Bobby Peru are the Mick and Keef of independent cinema.

Why are so many musicians celebrating the life of filmmaker David Lynch? I’ll propose that it’s because so many of them saw a relatively accurate reflection of their world in his movies.

What seemed like outright surrealism to the rest of the world feels a lot like the disorienting reality of becoming a rock star. Mulholland Drive is particularly good at recreating the whirl of turn-of-the-century Los Angeles, but the one I remember the most is Wild at Heart, a movie that’s a weird hybrid of The Wizard of Oz and Bonnie and Clyde.

Nic Cage’s Sailor Ripley is one of the finest portrayals of LSD (lead singer disease) on film, even if he’s only a rock star in his own mind. Laura Dern is once again an avatar for the director, the only actor who gets what’s really going on. He’s also allowed Willem Dafoe, Crispin Glover, David Patrick Kelly, John Lurie, Jack Nance, Harry Dean Stanton and Grace Zabriskie to push things as far as they’d like instead of reigning their acting like most sensible directors would have done.

Wild at Heart is out of print on Blu-ray and DVD and not available to buy or rent from digital movie stores. It’s popped up on movie channels from time to time, but it’s mostly unavailable. There are decent copies floating around if you know where to look.

In the USA, Criterion Channel has Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, Eraserhead, and Inland Empire. MAX has Blue Velvet, Dune, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, Eraserhead, and Inland Empire. Kanopy has Lost Highway and Eraserhead. Paramount+ has the original Twin Peaks series and Twin Peaks: The Return. The Elephant Man is also missing from streaming and the Criterion Collection Blu-ray and DVD are on backorder everywhere I looked.

8-track of the day

The best thing about Joan’s ’60s Vanguard Records catalog is the excellent green they used for the 8-track shells.

* You think I’m not going to detail every A&R or producer appearance in a movie? I’m the person who skipped Back to Black because Sam Taylor-Johnson cut Mark Ronson out of the Amy Winehouse story.

Same rule goes for those college radio alumni. That goes double for anyone who worked at WHRB, a station that’s still going strong years more than a decade after WYBC gave up the ghost.