Stories behind memorable albums of the 1970s as told by the artists

Category: The Vinyl Dialogues Book Page 4 of 16

The backstory of making the ‘Groovin” album by The Young Rascals

Dino Danelli conceived the cover for The Young Rascals' 'Groovin'' album. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Dino Danelli conceived the cover for The Young Rascals’ ‘Groovin” album.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Musicians work primarily on Friday and Saturday nights. And the women in their lives, well, they don’t like that too much.

That’s the way it was in the mid-1960s for Felix Cavaliere of the Young Rascals. By the end of 1966, the band’s self-titled debut album had reached No. 10 on the Cashbox album chart and No. 15 on the Billboard Top 200 albums charts. The record featured the group’s first No. 1 single, “Good Lovin’” and positioned the band to begin writing and recording more of their own material.

It made the Young Rascals in demand as well, particularly on Friday and Saturday nights, much to the dismay of their wives and girlfriends.

“That’s not exactly their cup of tea because, hey, you can understand when they say, ‘What do I do while you’re out there entertaining?’ So it’s a normal situation and any musician will tell you that they go through a lot of changes with that,” said Cavaliere. “And so groovin’ on a Sunday afternoon became the only time that we had together.”

It also became the inspiration — along with Cavaliere’s girlfriend at the time — for what would become the next No. 1 hit for the Young Rascals.

“Groovin’” was the title track from the band’s third album, released in 1967. Written by Cavaliere and bandmate Eddie Brigati, the song reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts and stayed there for four weeks.

Cavaliere’s girlfriend at the time was a young woman named Adrienne Buccheri, and he believes that she served as a muse for him at that point in his career.

“That was the age where all of us were kind of like dating and getting engaged. That’s what happened to me, basically. I fell madly in love with this woman who actually turned out to be a muse, no question about it,” said Cavaliere. “That’s really the only reason she was in my life. It was very strange. We were engaged, but never married. I really feel like she was like the old poetic muses. They just come into your life for a reason and spark that kind of emotion and feeling that generates those types of songs.”

It was no coincidence then, given the relationship of Cavaliere and Buccheri at the time, that the next single off the Groovin’ album to become a Top 5 hit for the band was “How Can I Be Sure,” which got to No. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart.

Felix Cavaliere said that the environment in which Atlantic Records put the band in was positive and helped contribute to the band's success. (Photo by Jack Leitmeyer)

Felix Cavaliere said that the environment in which Atlantic Records put the band in was positive and helped contribute to the band’s success.
(Photo by Jack Leitmeyer)

“She was very young, much younger than I was, and it was totally crazy. It culminated in ‘How Can I Be Sure.’ I woke up one day and said, ‘What the hell am I doing? I’m going out with a kid.’ It was strange,” said Cavaliere. “She ended up marrying a very dear friend of mine and they had couple of children together, then unfortunately she passed. That’s the story. It’s kind of strange, you know. I have to be careful with it now because my present-day wife doesn’t like that story too much.”

Brigati was also battling his own personal struggles during the making of the album, none greater than what he was experiencing when trying to finish the song “How Can I Be Sure.”

“We were trying to finish an album. We had to go in Friday and finish it because we had to go on the road Saturday and Sunday,” said Brigati. “I had kind of a breakdown over it. I couldn’t finish it and we had to go in (to the studio). The melody wasn’t actually created yet, the storyline wasn’t created.

“On that particular song, I got a block and I was freaked out about not finishing it. My brother (David) put a bunch of different things in it and he was never properly acknowledged for it,” said Brigati. “It’s 50 years later and I’m still asking, ‘How can I be sure?’ It was a genuine situation with being honest with what was going on.”

According to Cavaliere, the music business in the mid- to late-1960s was a singles-oriented world. Radio at the time was based on the Top 40 and the challenge for bands of that era was to get enough air play to score a hit single.

“It certainly wasn’t easy with the competition that was out there, which was phenomenal,” said Cavaliere. “But it also raised the bar to a high level, so a lot of music from that time is still here.”

The band’s label, Atlantic Records, ended up releasing eight of the 11 songs on Groovin’ as A- or B-side singles. Cavaliere and Brigati co-wrote eight of the songs, while guitarist Gene Cornish wrote two, “I’m So Happy Now,” which was the B-side of “How Can I Be Sure,” and “I Don’t Love You Anymore,” one of the three songs that wasn’t released as a single.

As was the case with many bands then, the pressure from the labels to continue to produce hit singles and albums was intense. Cavaliere and Brigati were well aware of that pressure.

“And the reason was because Atlantic was not a major label at that time, so money was an issue. Anytime you combine money with art, it’s difficult,” said Cavaliere. “So there was a lot of pressure from Atlantic to keep product going out. The other thing was, it was a challenge. But there was also a tremendous amount of good luck, good fortune and being in the right place at the right time. Yes, you felt the pressure but you felt it from a different angle, from the people who were behind the label.”

Eddie Brigati said the language and lyrics of the songwriting collaboration between himself and Felix Cavaliere was upbeat and positive. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Eddie Brigati said the language and lyrics of the songwriting collaboration between himself and Felix Cavaliere was upbeat and positive.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Brigati said the the combination of the lack of nurturing by the record company and the fact that the band didn’t have much, if any, down time away from the cycle of recording and touring, took it’s toll, both physically and creatively on the band members.

“There wasn’t a rest period, there wasn’t a recalculation,” said Brigati. “Basically I was broke and broken. And there was no rehabilitation. There was no such thing as taking six months off. You can’t, you have to strike while the iron is hot.”

Despite that pressure, Cavaliere also admits that the environment in which Atlantic Records put the band was positive and helped contribute to the band’s success.

“I always equate it as a very fertile type of land. All we had to do was pop a seed in there, man. And it grew, because the team that we had at our disposal was phenomenal,” said Cavaliere.

That type of creative freedom also was evident in the writing process for the songs on the album according to Cavaliere. And although it was hard work, he and Brigati were in the groove during their writing sessions for “Groovin.’”

“There are two people writing these songs. I’m writing most of the music and the titles and themes. My partner was filling in the verse repartee. It wore him out, man, I’ll be honest with you,” said Cavaliere. “Music to me comes very natural. For me to sit down and write a song, it’s pretty easy. So I was way ahead in terms of the music being before the lyrical content. If you look at this job that you have as a blessing, then that makes life easy. But if you look at this job as a J-O-B, it will wear you out. It didn’t wear me out because I loved every moment of it and I mean that truthfully.

“As a writer, when you get a concept in your brain and then all of a sudden it manifests itself in a studio on speakers, it’s beyond belief. How cool is that?” he said.

“The language and the lyrics of our songs were all upbeat,” said Brigati. “Felix and I collaborated on the majority of the songs. It was a positive viewpoint . . . what if? ‘It’s a beautiful morning, I think I’ll go outside for a while.’ These are all kind of flippant ideas, but all going toward the positive human, cooperative energy.”

Cavaliere said that he, Brigati, Cornish and drummer Dino Danelli were all pretty happy when they heard the finished album, like they were for all the albums they created.

“We were always very proud of what we did. You walk out of the studio and certainly there were periods of turmoil within the organization during the recording. But we always walked out of there smiling, saying ‘Wow!’” said Cavaliere.

Gene Cornish wrote two songs for the 'Groovin'' album, “I’m So Happy Now,” which was the B-side of “How Can I Be Sure,” and “I Don’t Love You Anymore,” one of the three songs that wasn’t released as a single. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Gene Cornish wrote two songs for the ‘Groovin” album, “I’m So Happy Now,” which was the B-side of “How Can I Be Sure,” and “I Don’t Love You Anymore,” one of the three songs that wasn’t released as a single.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

“You also walk out of there pretty tired. It was a lot of time. And I was present for every second of it. We never mailed anything in. I was there for everything and I enjoyed every aspect of the process, from the creation of the songs to the recording of the track to the singing and the mixing, even to the mastering whenever possible. First of all, I wanted to learn, and second of all, that’s your product. You gotta be there,” he said. “I guess you always like it as a finished album, but you’re apprehensive about whether other people are going to like it.”

That apprehension about the Groovin’ album turned out to be unfounded. Everybody liked it. The album reached No. 5 on the U.S. Billboard Top 200 Albums chart and No. 6 on the Cashbox albums chart.

In addition to the album’s title track making it to No. 1 and “How Can I Be Sure” getting to No. 4 on the singles chart, two other Brigati-Cavaliere collaborations, “A Girl Like You” and “You Better Run,” reached No. 10 and No. 20 respectively on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 Singles chart.

“The situation with Groovin’ in those days, all of us were kind of like tuned in to one another musically. And by that I mean the people in England — the Beatles people, the Stones people, the Kinks — and the Beach Boys, even though we were in a geographically different place,” said Cavaliere. “We were all falling in love.”

The cover for the Groovin’ album — which shows the band members drawn in caricature — was conceived, but not illustrated by drummer Danelli.

“I was pretty heavily into art in those days, so I kind of directed where we went with our graphics and things like that,” said Danelli. “I didn’t do the actual cartoon drawing on the cover. That was done by a friend of mine, Lynn Rubin. But we talked about the concept, what we wanted to do, which was take a comic book approach to it. That was kind of the style in those days. I used to love doing the whole trip of the packaging of an album. It was just a ton of fun.”

The cover also featured a sticker on the front that read “This LP has the big hit” followed by either “How Can I Be Sure” or “A Girl Like You,” both of which were Top 10 hits.

The Young Rascals would eventually change their name to the Rascals after the release of the Groovin’ album. The band would experience more chart success with two more Top 5 singles, “People Got to Be Free,” which got to No. 1, and “A Beautiful Morning,” which got to No. 3, both in 1968. The band would record seven albums from 1966 to 1971 with the original members before breaking up.

The Rascals reunited in 2012 for the “Once Upon a Dream” reunion — a combination concert and theatrical event — which lasted for 15 performances. The shows were produced and directed by Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band member Steven Van Zandt and his wife, Maureen Van Zandt.

Eddie Brigati of the Rascals and the author. (Photo by Judy Morsch)

Eddie Brigati of the Rascals and the author.
(Photo by Judy Morsch)

It’s easy to listen to Lionel Richie sing ‘Brick House’ and other hits all night long

Lionel Richie sings the Commodores hit "Brick House" Saturday, March 23, 2019, at the Hard Rock in Atlantic City. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Lionel Richie sings the Commodores hit “Brick House” Saturday, March 23, 2019, at the Hard Rock in Atlantic City.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

There was a moment in the Lionel Richie concert Saturday night at the Hard Rock in Atlantic City, just as Lionel was finishing up the final verse of “Endless Love,” where there was a bit of a commotion in the front row.

A gent had gotten down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend while Lionel was singing the song. Now that’s some pretty romantic and memorable planning by that dude, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Lionel. After he finished the song, he stopped the show and made a big deal out of the moment, the happy couple was shown on the big concert screens, and it all seemed unscripted to me from my vantage point. Lionel seemed to not know about the proposal in advance and veteran performer that he is, he rolled it right into the show.

He dedicated the next song to the woman who had just received the rock, which was the 1977 Commodores hit “Brick House.” It’s a great song, and the story behind it was detailed for me by William A. King of the Commodores for “The Vinyl Dialogues Volume III: Stacks of Wax.”

By the mid-1970s, the Commodores had developed a routine for recording albums. Band members would get together in the middle of October and spend about two months choosing and arranging songs, take a couple of weeks off for Christmas, fly to Motown Records in Los Angeles and spend January and February recording, release the album in the spring and tour in support of the album in the summer.

When the band — William A. King, Ronald LaPread, Thomas McClary, Walter Orange, Lionel Richie and Milan Williams — was getting together songs for its fifth studio album, the self-titled “Commodores” in late 1976, members had chosen and arranged eight songs for the album. They needed one more, though.

But everybody was worn out.

“We had done eight songs and we could not choose the ninth song. Everybody was desperate, everybody was tired, didn’t want to see each other anymore, wanted to go home. We had seen each other every day, seven days a week, for two months,” said William A. King, band’s trumpet player. “We decided to just do something quick, because we only had two days left to get the songs prepared before we left for L.A.”

They all agreed to just throw something together quickly. So Walter Orange sat down at the drum kit and started tapping out a beat. Ronald LaPread added the bass, while King and Richie tried to figure out the horns part to go with it. Thomas McClary added in guitar and Milan Williams joined in on keyboards.

“We were just jamming,” said King. “And we finally got a basic track down.”

There were no lyrics to the riff, so it was suggested that King and Orange both head home after the session and try to write some words to go with it. But time was of the essence. The band needed the lyrics the next day if it was going to complete the ninth song for the album before heading to Los Angeles to record.

“At that time we had cassette tapes, so I was playing it over and over and over again. I was just trying to figure out a starting point,” said King. “But I knew it was going to be about a woman.”

But even after getting home that evening and playing the cassette over and over, King was still stuck. It was getting late, and King’s wife, Shirley Hanna-King, was running out of patience.

“She said, ‘Look, why don’t you turn that tape off? You’ve played it a thousand times; don’t you have that melody in your head yet?’” King recalled his wife saying. “I said, ‘No, I don’t, which is why I keep playing it over and over again.’”

But Shirley Hanna-King had heard enough and retired to a different part of the house where she didn’t have to listen to the tape.

Eventually, King himself ran out of steam.

“I fell asleep, literally with the tape on. It just ran out,” said King. “When I woke up, I had a pad of paper and pencil on my chest. I looked at it and it had all these lyrics written on it. I was looking at it thinking, ‘God, those are some good lyrics.’ And then I looked at the handwriting and it was my wife’s handwriting. So I asked her, “Did you write this?’ And she said,

‘Yeah, I had to do something to keep you from playing that tape all night long because we couldn’t get any sleep.’”

King took the lyrics to the next day’s session and presented them to the Commodores.

“Milan Williams said, ‘Man, these are the best lyrics you’ve ever written,’” said King.

Orange had also done some writing the previous evening, and between the two of them, King and Orange combined their lyrics and came up with a song that would be about a woman who was built like “a brick shithouse.”

The song was “Brick House.” But James Carmichael, who was producing the “Commodores” album, still wasn’t sold on it being the ninth and final song for the record.

“Carmichael wasn’t convinced,” said King. “He listened to it and said, ‘Eh, I’m not too sure about this song.’”

But Orange was. So unbeknownst to the other members of the group, he took the assistant engineer into an adjacent studio, had the track put on and then Orange started singing over the track, adding in the lead vocals. He then took the revised track back to Carmichael and the Commodores to hear the results.

“And everybody went, ‘Oh my God, this is really nice.’ That’s actually how the song got on the album, because Walter went in there and did a demo vocal over it, which convinced everybody that the song was worth going on the album,” said King. “It probably would not have even made it onto the album. We would have just done one fewer song on the record.”

"Brick House" would go to No. 5 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles chart and No. 4 on the U.S. R&B chart in 1977. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

“Brick House” would go to No. 5 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles chart and No. 4 on the U.S. R&B chart in 1977.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

“Brick House” would be released as a single and go to No. 5 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles chart and No. 4 on the U.S. R&B chart.

But it wouldn’t be the only hit single from the “Commodores” album, which was released on March 30, 1977. There would be another single that was even bigger.

Richie had a song that, according to King, he must have rewritten a dozen times once the band had gotten to Los Angeles to record. Richie would go into the bathroom at Motown Records, write the lyrics and bring them back out to the band.

“Either Carmichael or one of the guys would go, ‘Eh, these suck.’ And Lionel would go back into the bathroom,” said King. “We had this thing we used to say: ‘Has anybody seen Richie? Oh, he’s in the bathroom.’ The lyrics for that song were written in the bathroom at Motown Studios in Los Angeles.”

The song was “Easy,” and it would be a smash hit. It got to No. 1 on the U.S. Billboard R&B chart and No. 4 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles chart.

“Even though we hated his first lyrics, ‘Easy’ was easy,” said King. “From the first time he played it, I thought it was a hit song. And I wasn’t alone. I think everybody in the room thought it was a hit song.”

The “Commodores” album itself was also a big hit for the group. It reached No. 1 on the U.S. R&B/Hip-Hop albums chart and No. 3 on the U.S. Billboard 200 albums chart.

If you get a chance to see Lionel Richie, buy the ticket. Richie is still in fine voice, he’s a fabulous entertainer and it’s an evening of hit after hit after hit.

Mike and Micky: The Monkees are still magnificent

Mickey Dolenz belts out a tune at "The Mike and Micky Show" March 6, 2019, at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside, PA. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Mickey Dolenz belts out a tune at “The Mike and Micky Show” March 6, 2019, at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside, PA.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

It was early 1967 The Monkees were frustrated. Sure, they had a successful television show — wildly more successful than anybody could have imagined at the time — and their first two albums, “The Monkees” and “More of the Monkees,” had reached No. 1 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 200 Albums chart.

But The Monkees — Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork and Davy Jones — weren’t being taken seriously as musicians and songwriters. And that was beginning to wear on them heavily.

So when it came time to make the third album, they went on strike, which was spearheaded by Nesmith.

“Mike had become very frustrated, and I don’t blame him because he had bought into this whole thing (The Monkees),” said Dolenz in a July 11, 2017, interview with The Vinyl Dialogues. “He was a singer-songwriter and he came into The Monkees with that in mind. I know he was promised that we’d be doing some of his songs, and that he’d be writing and singing. That didn’t turn out to be the case.”

Dolenz doesn’t believe, more than 50 years later, that there was any nefarious plot by record executives to stifle the artistic creatively and freedom of The Monkees. It’s just that the television show steamrolled so fast and hard and became so instantly successful that the corporations behind it — RCA Victor, NCB Television and Screen Gems — got overwhelmed by the Monkees mania.

“Mike will tell you, even now, that we weren’t capable of doing our own music at first,” said Dolenz. “But the story he’s told me is that he went to the producers early on and he said he had written this song that he wanted to do as a Monkees song, and he played it for them. And they said, ‘No, that’s not a Monkees song.’ And Mike said, ‘Wait a minute, I am one of the Monkees.’ And they said, ‘Yeah, yeah, fine. But it’s not a Monkees song.’”

Mike Nesmith of The Monkees was in fine voice  at "The Mike and Micky Show" at the Keswick Theatre. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Mike Nesmith of The Monkees was in fine voice at “The Mike and Micky Show” at the Keswick Theatre.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Frustrated but determined, Nesmith decided to give the song to a young female singer who was kicking around the Los Angeles area in the summer of 1967. Her name was Linda Ronstadt and the song was “Different Drum.”

Rondstadt and her band The Stone Poneys released the song in September 1967 and it went to No. 12 on the Cash Box Top 100 Singles chart, No. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100 Singles chart and No. 16 in Record World magazine.

But putting their collective feet down, led by Nesmith, for The Monkees third album, “Headquarters” proved to work.

“Mike got us all on board and said, ‘We can do this if we put our minds to it.’ Mike was the one who encouraged me do some songwriting. Basically, we said we just want something to say about what’s going on with this album,” said Dolenz.

Dolenz believes that fans then didn’t care that the Monkees weren’t playing their own instruments or writing their own songs, although the band members did. The famous Los Angles session musicians The Wrecking Crew had played on The Monkees first two albums, as well as on albums by the Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher, The Mamas and the Papas, the 5th Dimension and Frank Sinatra, so it wasn’t that unusual in the 1960s.

“I asked my wife, who was an original fan in the 1960s at age 8, ‘Honey, did you care at all about whether we played all the instruments and that whole thing?’ And she said, ‘No, you were just cute,’” said Dolenz. “The Beatles didn’t play on every single record. They had people come in all the time. Unfortunately, we’re the ones that kind of got beat up for it, and ironically, we were the ones who didn’t have a choice.”

But the “Headquarters” album would provide some vindication for The Monkees. It was the first album that included substantial songwriting and instrumental performances by members of the group.

Mickey Dolenz on the guitar during "The Mike and Micky Show." (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Mickey Dolenz on the guitar during “The Mike and Micky Show.”
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

All it did was reach No. 1 on the Billboard 200 Album chart and was certified double-platinum in the United States with sales of more than two million copies within the first two months. Released on May 22, 1967, it stayed at No.1 for just one week — and might have stayed there longer — but the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” on May 26, 1967, and that album replaced The Monkees at No.1 and stayed there for 11 weeks, with “Headquarters” right behind in the No. 2 spot for the same number of weeks.

“If you’re going to get blown out of the No. 1 position, I guess Sgt. Pepper is a good one to do that,” said Dolenz.
More than 50 years later, Nesmith and Dolenz, the surviving members of The Monkees — Jones died in 2012 and Tork died in February 2019 — are still proving that they’re the real deal.

“The Mike and Micky Show” at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside, PA, on March 6 left no doubt that the remaining Monkees are as good as they ever were.

Their set included The Monkees hits, songs written by both Nesmith and Dolenz, and several from the “Headquarters” album, including “You Just May Be the One,” “You Told Me” and “Sunny Girlfriend” written by Nesmith; “For Pete’s Sake,” co-written by Tork; “Randy Scouse Git,” written by Dolenz; and “I’ll Spend My Life With You,” written by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart.

The show was special not only because Nesmith and Dolenz are great musicians and performers, but because it was just a few weeks after Tork’s death, and it was evident both Dolenz and Nesmith were affected by the loss of Tork. In addition, the show was a rescheduled performance from a June 2018 Keswick Theatre show where Nesmith had collapsed just after soundcheck and needed bypass surgery, from which he appears to be fully recovered.

But through it all, The Monkees put on a great show. It’s obvious the two are comfortable with each other onstage.
Everybody left the theater that evening with a smile on their faces. And rightfully so. The Monkees still got it.

Mike Nesmith and Micky Dolenz of The Monkees have surrounded themselves with a fabulous group of musicians for "The Mike and Micky" shows. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Mike Nesmith and Micky Dolenz of The Monkees have surrounded themselves with a fabulous group of musicians for “The Mike and Micky” shows.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Were it not for thin walls, England Dan & John Ford Coley’s biggest hit wouldn’t have happened

John Ford Coley, one half of the 1970s duo England Dan & John Ford Coley, performed Feb. 22, 2019, at the Sellersville Theatre 1894 in Sellersville, PA. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

John Ford Coley, one half of the 1970s duo England Dan & John Ford Coley, performed Feb. 22, 2019, at the Sellersville Theatre 1894 in Sellersville, PA.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Sometimes, thin walls can be a good thing. For England Dan (Seals) & John Ford Coley, thin walls were responsible for making “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight” a hit single.

After being dropped by A&M Records in early 1976, the duo wandered for a year or so, not because they were lost, according to Coley, but because they were perfecting their craft in the hopes of landing another record deal. And then their manager, Susan Joseph, brought them the song, “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight,” written by Mississippi-based songwriter Parker McGee.

“We really didn’t want to do it,” said Coley in an interview for The Vinyl Dialogues Volume I, which features a chapter on the making of the duo’s 1976 album, Knights are Forever. “We thought it was more of a female song. But our manager said, ‘Please try it,’ so we did.”

They brought in Louie Shelton, a seasoned session musician who had worked with the likes of Simon and Garfunkel, Stevie Wonder, and the Monkees. He also produced the first couple of England Dan & John Ford Coley albums, and brought in Jeff Pocaro and David Paich, later of Toto, to cut a demo tape of “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight.”

Joseph then took the tape to Atlantic Records, and it made it into the office of Bob Greenberg, Vice President at Atlantic Records, where it was played for the record executive.

Greenberg was not impressed.

Immediately after the tape had been played, there was a knock on Greenberg’s office door. Sitting in an adjacent room were Doug Morris and Dick Vanderbilt, executives of Big Tree Records, a subsidiary of Atlantic. Founded by Morris, he had sold Big Tree to Atlantic Records in 1974. Morris would eventually go on to become co-chairman of Atlantic before it closed its doors for good in 1980.

But at that moment, Morris and Vanderbilt were interested in “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight” because they had heard the demo tape through the thin walls of Greenberg’s office.

John Ford Coley greets fans after his show Feb. 22, 2019, in Sellersville, PA. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

John Ford Coley greets fans after his show Feb. 22, 2019, in Sellersville, PA.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

According to the story as related to Coley by manager Susan Joseph, Morris asked Greenberg if he was interested in recording the song.

“Well, Bob, what do you think of that record? You like that? You gonna take it?” Susan Joseph recalls Morris saying to Greenberg.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think this one’s got it. We’re going to pass,” Joseph remembered Greenberg saying. “And Morris said, ‘We’ll take the song.’”

The single would become the biggest hit that England Dan & John Ford Coley ever had, reaching No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1976. It would also go on to anchor the Nights are Forever album, also released in 1976. The title track, “Nights Are Forever,” also written by McGee, was the second single released from the album and it reached No. 10 0n the Billboard singles chart.

“We only had a singles deal with Atlantic, and [executives] were talking about possibly doing an album if the single took off,” said Coley. “And Dan and I were kind of unhappy because we were writing songs all the time, and now some other writer [McGee] comes in and he’s written the song that everybody wants.

“And then we got our first royalty check, and I was like, ‘OK, where are some more songs that other people had written? I think up to that point I had made about $1.98 on the songs I had written all those years.”

So Seals and Coley brought in session musicians and began building an album around “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight.”

“We began to cut this thing, and the players were so great,” said Coley. “Dan and I were so low-key and laid-back. I remember the drummer saying, ‘Man, I just love these low pressure sessions.’ He’d play something and say, ‘What about this?’ And we’d go, ‘Yeah, that sounds good. Just do that.’ The musicians, they weren’t accustomed to that.”

The album, produced by Kyle Lehning, was recorded at the Studio by the Pond — the home of recording engineer Lee Hazen — at Old Hickory Lake near Hendersonville, Tennessee.
Between sessions, Coley and the musicians played a lot of ping-pong, while Seals oftentimes relaxed by fishing in the lake.

“Everything just kind of came together. We had a lot of good players,” said Coley.

Even Dan’s brother, Jim Seals, of Seals and Crofts, played on the album.

“There was a good friend who we used to play with back in Texas named Shane Keister, and he and I doubled up in a band we were in. I played organ and he played piano and Dan was one of the singers.

“So when we came into town, there were certain things that I didn’t want to play. And we pulled Shane in and he did such a wonderful job for us,” said Coley.

A signed "Nights are Forever" album, first released in 1976. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

A signed “Nights are Forever” album, first released in 1976.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Nights Are Forever was the duo’s fourth studio album and their highest charter, peaking at No. 17 in the United States. Two subsequent albums, Dowdy Ferry Road in 1977 and Some Things Don’t Come Easy in 1978 broke into the Top 100. Dowdy Ferry Road featured the single “It’s Sad to Belong,” which reached No. 21; and Some Things Don’t Come Easy featured “We’ll Never Have to Say Goodbye,” which became the band’s second-best charting single, reaching No. 9.

The Nights are Forever album cover features Seals and Coley in mid-1970s-style leisure suits.

“Dan and I were blue jeans kind of guys, so they wanted us to wear these suits,” said Coley. “And I’ll be doggone if we didn’t wear those suits for like two years.”

Coley said there are actually two versions of the album cover. Once the album began to take off, some “alterations” were made in the cover photo of the two, and the album was re-released as sales continued to increase.

“Well, they straightened out my collar, they removed a mole off my chin, they removed a sprig of hair, and they took two pimples off Dan’s face and straightened up his shirt collar,” said Coley. “The record went gold, so they just straightened up a bunch of stuff on it and made it a little bit more professional.”

Coley said one of the interesting comparisons about the duo made in the 1970s, was when they were compared to Seals and Crofts.

“Jimmy Seals is Dan’s brother, but they were so diametrically opposed temperamentally that it was staggering,” said Coley. “People would compare Dan to Dash Crofts — both were extraordinarily laid-back. Dan was one of the funniest people you’d ever want to meet in your life. He kept me laughing so much. He was also a very wise man. He was like a gentle giant. Then people would compare me to Jimmy, because Jimmy was quick-tempered and would be down your throat in a New York-minute. And I was right there with him. I’ve mellowed over the years, but it was really an interesting comparison.”

England Dan & John Ford Coley were together as a duo from 1965 to 1980. Dan Seals died in 2009 after a battle with mantle cell lymphoma.

Coley said that becoming a star was never the primary goal for himself and Seals.

“We just loved playing and would go out and play everywhere,” said Coley. “We really didn’t look at it as going as far as it actually did. I thought probably it might last a couple of years and then I would grow up and go off and be as boring as all my friends were. It didn’t work out that way. God kind of has different plans for you.

“I’m still kind of surprised when people say that we made history,” said Coley. “And I go, ‘OK, really?’ For me, I was just having fun. I loved it. I had the best time of my life.”

The author and John Ford Coley after the show. (Photo by The Blonde Accountant)

The author and John Ford Coley after the show.
(Photo by The Blonde Accountant)

Seeing the original Jersey Boy Frankie Valli live: Oh, what a night!

Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons performed Saturday, Feb. 9, 2019, at the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City, N.J.  (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons performed Saturday, Feb. 9, 2019, at the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City, N.J.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

While sitting around killing time, people watching and shooting the breeze before the Frankie Valli concert Saturday night, Feb. 9, at the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City, it occurred to me that we were about to witness a quintessential New Jersey event.

Here was the original Jersey Boy performing at a casino in the state’s premiere entertainment town, a town in which he’s played for nearly 60 years. It’s as classic a scene as the Rat Pack playing the Sands in Las Vegas in the early 1960s. If you’re gonna see Frankie Valli live — especially for the first time like we were — what better place than at a casino in Atlantic City, N.J.?

So I said to The Blonde Accountant, “Why wouldn’t the cast of The Sopranos show up tonight to support one of their own?” Given that the iconic HBO series about a New Jersey crime family has now joined the ranks of all things Jersey — Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Van Zandt (Sopranos character Silvio Dante), Jon Bon Jovi — why wouldn’t there be the possibility of seeing some famous faces in the audience for this show?

That made sense to me. Valli appeared in seasons five and six of The Sopranos as the character Rusty Millio, a capo in the Lupertazzi crime family who is referred to in the series as “The Mayor of Munchkinland” because of his short stature. Valli’s character is eventually whacked in his own driveway in a hit contracted by Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini).

Frankie Valli drew a packed house to the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Frankie Valli drew a packed house to the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Now at 84 years old, Frankie is still worth seeing. His show has a chill-inducing, historical video lead-in of the original group before he and the modern version of The Four Seasons — who by the way are simply fabulous — and the killer nine-piece band take command of the stage and the audience.

About two-thirds of the way through the show, Frankie introduced the members of the band, after which he said, “There’s one other person in the audience I’d like to acknowledge . . . .”

Wait. What? Ah, somebody is here. Who is it?

“I’d like to introduce you to my fellow Sopranos cast member, Tony Sirico,” said Frankie. And right there center stage in the front row, there was Paul “Paulie Walnuts” Gualtieri, dressed impeccably (like his character) in a sharp suit. He stepped up to the edge of the stage and shook Frankie’s hand, turned and briefly acknowledged the cheers from the crowd, and sat back down.

Ha! It’s Paulie Walnuts! The soldato, capo regime and underboss of the fictional New Jersey DiMeo crime family, a stone cold gangster and one of Tony Soprano’s closest friends.

It was a perfect segue into Frankie’s next comment: “How many of you have seen Jersey Boys?” As was to be expected from a Jersey-centric crowd, there was a big applause. “How many of you have seen Jersey Boys more than once?” Another big response. “How many of you have never seen Jersey Boys?” A handful of claps from the upper regions of the venue.

“Get their names and numbers and give them to Paulie Walnuts,” said Frankie, which of course drew the biggest applause of the entire bit.

I love it when show business and real life interact like that.

One of Frankie Valli's stage costumes that he wore during the 1980s, on display at the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

One of Frankie Valli’s stage costumes that he wore during the 1980s, on display at the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

The original Four Seasons — Bob Gaudio, who wrote many of the Four Seasons greatest hits, including “Sherry,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Walk Like A Man” and “Rag Doll” — Tommy DeVito and Nick Massi (who died in 2000), were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990 and the Vocal Group Hall of Fame in 1999.

One of my concerns before the show was that the Jersey Boys Broadway production might be better than the real thing. But seeing Jersey Boys and seeing Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons is seeing two different shows. There’s more storytelling in the Broadway production and more music in Frankie’s show. Both are very good and very entertaining in their own right.

In the lead-up to this show, I had watched several YouTube videos of recent Frankie performances, mostly to see if he still had the voice, the one that could hit those trademark high falsetto notes. I’ve seen artists in the past whose voices didn’t stand the test of time — some of my favorites of all-time like Brian Wilson, Art Garfunkel and John Sebastian. It does not bother me that they don’t sound the way they did on the records from the 1960s and 1970s. They’ve made the necessary adjustments the best they can and I just appreciate the opportunity to see them perform.

But many of the comments on those YouTube videos, as well as some comments from friends that I received privately, suggested that Frankie has been lip-syncing at his live shows for a while now. I can’t speak authoritatively on that. My seats for this show were too far back to be able to tell, and at those times I was watching the big video screens, I could not discern if it was live or if it was Memorex. Frankie definitely had a live mic, but I am unfamiliar with the technology that allows the seamless blending of live and pre-recorded sound into a show that for all intents and purposes looks and sounds live.

I will say this, though: If Frankie was lip-syncing, he’s very good at it.

So the quintessential New Jersey event ended up being exactly that. It was pure Jersey and it was a kick to experience. Go see the show if you get the chance.

Like Frankie says, you’ll come away thinking the exact same thing as I did: Oh, what a night.

The story of the Bar-Kays will be forever tragically linked to Otis Redding

The first time Otis Redding saw the Bar-Kays perform, he asked them to be his touring band.

The first time Otis Redding saw the Bar-Kays perform, he asked them to be his touring band.

Otis Redding had just finished a show at the Mid-South Coliseum in Memphis, Tennessee, and wanted to check out the local music scene in the spring of 1967.

So he started asking people what the hottest club in town was at the time and was told there was a place called the Hippodrome that was currently featuring a young band called the Bar-Kays.

Redding made his way to the Hippodrome to check out the Bar-Kays and was so impressed with the band that he sat in for a set.

“He was so amazed when he sat in with us that he asked us if we would be his touring band right then,” said James Alexander, the young bassist for the Bar-Kays, which also included Ronnie Caldwell on electric organ, Phalon Jones on saxophone, Jimmy King on guitar, Carl Cunningham on drums and trumpeter Ben Cauley. “But we were underage and we had to ask our parents. We were all still in high school so our parents really didn’t want us to go on the road. My parents said no. All the parents unanimously said no.”

Over the next few days, Redding persisted, even offering at one point to hire a tutor for the young musicians on the road. But the parents held their ground. They all said the boys needed to first graduate from high school in June of 1967 before they’d even consider allowing them to join Redding as his touring band.

The Bar-Kays got their start in Memphis, which is where Otis Redding saw them perform for the first time.

The Bar-Kays got their start in Memphis, which is where Otis Redding saw them perform for the first time.

Redding, a singer, songwriter, record producer, arranger and talent scout had already established himself as the seminal artist in soul music and rhythm and blues by 1967. Many of his records had been produced by Stax Records, which was also based in Memphis.

The Bar-Kays had already auditioned for Stax Records twice by that time, without getting a record deal. But once they graduated from high school, all the parents relented and the Bar-Kays hit the road with Redding.

“The first day of the first show that we ever did with Otis Redding was at the Apollo Theater in New York. Prior to that, none of the guys in the group had gone more than a 50-mile radius of Memphis. So the first show we go to is in New York City. It was overwhelming,” said Alexander.

As heady as those first few months were for the Bar-Kays backing Redding – they played gigs across the country – the story of the Bar-Kays would be forever tragically linked to Redding.

Just a few short months later, on Dec. 9, 1967, Redding and the band appeared on the Upbeat television show in Cleveland. The next night, they were scheduled to perform at the Factory nightclub near the University of Wisconsin in Madison.

Bassist James Alexander of the Bar-Keys was one of two band members that was not on the plane that crashed killing Otis Redding.

Bassist James Alexander of the Bar-Keys was one of two band members that was not on the plane that crashed killing Otis Redding.

“The plane that we traveled on could only carry a certain amount of people. Two people always had to fly commercial because there wasn’t enough room on the plane,” said Alexander. “It could be any two people. This particular day, it happened to be me and another gentleman. We were the two people that took the commercial flight. That’s the only reason that I wasn’t on the plane.”

Despite poor weather, the Beechcraft H18 aeroplane took off for Madison on Dec. 10, 1967. Four miles from the destination, the plane crashed in Lake Monona, killing Redding, King, Jones, Cunningham, the band’s valet Matthew Kelly and pilot Richard Fraser. Cauley, a non-swimmer, was the only survivor of the crash, and he did so by clinging to a seat cushion in the frigid waters of the lake before being rescued.

Alexander was sitting in the airport in Milwaukee when he got the news.

“The pilot suggested that he was going to drop everybody off in Madison, and then come back and pick us up in Milwaukee. So we were sitting waiting for him to come pick us up and he never showed up,” said Alexander.

In the months after the Bar-Kays had joined Redding, the singer-songwriter had co-written, with guitarist Steve Cropper, and recorded just days before his death, one of his greatest hits, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” The song was posthumously released and went to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 Singles chart and No. 1 on the Billboard Hot Rhythm and Blue Singles chart.

After the tragedy, Cauley and Alexander re-formed the Bar-Kays and continued to perform. Cauley died in September 2015, leaving Alexander as the sole survivor of the original group to carry on the legacy of the band.

Despite the tragedy that cut short the run of the original group, Alexander said he has had a fulfilling career.

“I love the band that we’re playing in now. But even though we only played with Otis Redding for a short time, from maybe June through December, almost six months, I look back and I have fond memories of that and I just smile,” he said.

With George Martin producing, America was always looking for the ‘egg-and-bacon’ take

Gerry Beckley of the band America performs during the encore Dec. 7. 2018, at the Santander Performing Arts Center in Reading, Pennsylvania. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Gerry Beckley of the band America performs during the encore Dec. 7. 2018, at the Santander Performing Arts Center in Reading, Pennsylvania.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

It wouldn’t be an America concert if it didn’t include the mention of George Martin. And the band’s Dec. 7, 2018, concert at the Santander Performing Arts Center in Reading, PA, would be no different.

So just how did legendary Beatles producer Martin end up working with the Dewey Bunnell, Gerry Beckley and Dan Peek of America? And what role did bacon and eggs play in that pairing?

As detailed in Volume I of The Vinyl Dialogues, there were days during long recording sessions when Dewey Bunnell would look forward to the “egg-and-bacon take.”

Bunnell, Beckley and Peek were recording their fourth studio album, Holiday, in 1974 at AIR Studios in London. They were working with Martin, who had produced all of the Beatles’ original albums.

Bunnell remembers it as a special time. During the days of recording the album, he and his bandmates would frequent a little cafe in the area or eat at the studio commissary.

And they’d frequently eat bacon and eggs.

“We say ‘bacon and eggs,’ but the British say ‘egg and bacon.’ Every day we’d do some takes and George would say, ‘Right lads, one more take.’ And we’d say, ‘But George, we’re getting hungry.’ And he’d say, ‘OK, this is the egg-and-bacon take.’”

The band’s eponymous 1971 debut album had been produced by Ian Samwell, a British songwriter and guitarist who had worked with Sir Cliff Richard; after relocating to Los Angeles, their second and third albums, Homecoming in 1972 and Hat Trick in 1973, were produced by the band members themselves.

“Gerry and Dan and I produced the second and third albums and we realized we were spending a lot of money,” said Bunnell. “Producing records isn’t just about saying, ‘Oh, that sounds good, let’s put a tambourine on the next track.’ There’s a lot of administrative work and booking studio time and paying bills and all that kind of stuff.

Dewey Bunnell of America. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Dewey Bunnell of America.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

“By the time we got to the third album, we said, ‘This is too much work. We need a producer,’” said Bunnell.

America was going to start at the top in its search for a producer and was hoping to get Martin to sign on.

And timing is everything.

David Geffen — who had managed Crosby, Stills and Nash as well as Laura Nyro — was also America’s manager at the time.

Geffen knew Martin well enough to arrange for him to meet Beckley, Bunnell, and Peek. Incidentally, Geffen would go on to create Asylum Records in 1970, Geffen Records in 1980, DGC Records in 1990, and become one of the three founders — along with Steven Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg — of DreamWorks SKG Studios in 1994.

“We were these young whippersnappers and George was coming out of the Beatles thing — it had been a few years since they had broken up — and he was basically available,” said Bunnell.

And after working with the Beatles, Martin finished a project with a band called Seatrain, and was looking around for his next project as well.

Martin was in Los Angeles for the 46th Academy Awards show when Geffen approached him to meet America’s principals. Martin had scored the soundtrack to the James Bond film Live and Let Die, the title track of which was written by Paul and Linda McCartney. The song was nominated for “Best Original Song” that year, but lost the Oscar to “The Way We Were” by Marvin Hamlisch.

Gerry Beckley, left, of America. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Gerry Beckley, left, of America.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

Martin met with the band and, according to Bunnell, formed an instant rapport. Bunnell said he thought that it may have been because of a common bond: he, Beckley and Peek were all children of American servicemen who had British wives, and they had first met and formed the band while all their fathers were stationed at the United States Air Force Base at RAF West Ruislip, London.

“So we hit it off and he said, ‘Sure, but I understand you spent a lot of time on your last album. I must ask that you come to London and we record it in my studio.’”

Once they reached an agreement, Bunnell said that the band members wanted to make sure they were ready to record by the time they got to London. They hunkered down and honed and arranged their material, and by the time they did get to London, they were ready to go.

“We had arranged the songs the way we liked to do things, with the vocal harmonies and the acoustic guitar stuff,” said Bunnell. “And George took it from there. He was very impressed that we were prepared. I think we did the whole album in less than three weeks — 17 days or something like that. Mixed and ready to go. And George said, ‘Well, this is nice.’”

Bunnell called the Holiday recording sessions lighthearted but structured.

“When we were making the third album [Hat Trick] in Los Angeles at the Record Plant, it was party time,” said Bunnell. “Late sessions. And the Record Plant was a cool place to hang out.

“But the British studio — AIR Studios in London — it was like we were in some kind of factory,” he said. “It was very sterile and weird. George was from that school having produced the Beatles, and he still had a lot of that work ethic going on, which was good because it reined us in.”

Besides the fact that the band was in awe of Martin, Bunnell said that Martin was from a different generation.

“He was this princely guy,” said Bunnell. “Sweet and nice and full of anecdotes. We realized right away that it was all business here. We like to say that he sophisticated the sound, if you will, because with George you got an arranger in terms of symphony and orchestral arrangements.”

Dewey Bunnell, left, and Gerry Beckley celebrated their 48th year with the band America in 2018. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Dewey Bunnell, left, and Gerry Beckley celebrated their 48th year with the band America in 2018.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

One of Martin’s favorite phrases, Bunnell said, was “Don’t gild the lily.” Martin wasn’t one of those guys who wanted to keep layering stuff on a song. “If you’ve got a nice tasty thing, an overdub or a vocal that works, let’s not bury it under a lot of varnish,” Bunnell recalled Martin saying.

The album hit big in the United States and reached No. 3 on the Billboard album chart. It produced two hit singles, the Bunnell-penned “Tin Man,” which reached No. 4 on the Billboard singles chart and No. 1 on the adult contemporary chart; and “Lonely People,” written by Peek and his wife, Catherine, which charted at No. 5 on the Billboard singles chart and No. 1 on the adult contemporary chart.

“Tin Man” was based on the general theme of The Wizard of Oz, which Bunnell said has always been, and is still today, one of his favorite movies.

“I love that film and the whole premise of people having those things already in them that they seem to be desperately seeking – courage and love and all those things,” said Bunnell.

Bunnell likes his songs to paint pictures — and he likes a lyric that takes the listener some place in his own mind within the first few lines of a song.

And then there’s the great grammar in “Tin Man.”

“I always say I don’t know where my grammar really comes from, other than maybe in and of itself, it’s colorful. ‘Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man, that he didn’t, didn’t already have,’” said Bunnell. “It’s sort of poetic license because I really don’t speak that way.”

Bunnell thought “Tin Man” had a catchy melody and was a strong enough song — with its chord progression — going into the recording session.

“I’m not a schooled musician, so I’m not using music theory and things. I’m really not applying certain musical-mathematical equations when I write a song,” he said. “A little more now because I’m self-training even more. But then, though, it was finding some chords that sounded good together. It was all just throwing the dart at the board and saying, ‘Oh, I think I got a bullseye there.’”

Creative album covers were still the norm in the 1970s, and when it came time to decide what the Holiday cover would look like, the band members agreed that specific lyrics from the Beckley-written song “What Does It Matter” would be an appropriate concept for the cover: “Look, the lady’s got a photograph, silver-framed, velvet-backed.”

“So we all agreed — hey, let’s make sure the cover kind of mirrors that lyrical imagery: silver-framed, velvet-backed,” said Bunnell. “So now we have to stick a photograph in that frame. Of course, in those days, they always wanted the artists to be on the album cover. Now, the last thing we want is our picture on the album because we’re older.”

Because the songs — especially with Martin’s arrangements — had an old-time feel, Bunnell, Beckley, and Peek decided to wear clothes that reflected a time gone by. They secured an old car from a collector who rented cars for just that purpose — publicity shoots — and headed out to Hyde Park in London.

“The costumes showed up, the car showed up, and we shot the cover,” said Bunnell.

It was indeed a special and heady time for the members of America.

“Right now, as we reach this age, it’s just fun to realize that so many things did happen, and how they are still viable parts of this giant puzzle that is the pop music business,” said Bunnell.

“Going into the AIR Studios equipment room and picking out something, like we needed a bell for a song — and, by the way, that’s the bell we used on ‘Yellow Submarine;’ wow, cool, we’re using the ‘Yellow Submarine’ bell — George made all that very fun.”

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