The New Book "Sun Ra: Jazz Messiah" Is Available October 18, 2008.

The New Book "Sun Ra: Jazz Messiah" By Mississippi Mahn, Is Available October 18, 2008.

http://www.sunrajazzmessiah.com/

Order at:

http://www.sunrajazzmessiah.com/order.html

Sun Ra Arkestra live op Radio 6

http://zaterdagavond.radio6.nl/2008/09/21/sun-ra-arkestra-live-op-radio-6/#more-53

Sun Ra Arkestra live op Radio 6

zondag, 21 september 2008 / door Aad van Nieuwkerk

Please note that Tilburg 2008 streams are available by following the link shown above.

More Arkestra blogging from Tilburg

http://zaterdagavond.radio6.nl/2008/09/19/sun-ra/#more-42

Sun Ra
vrijdag, 19 september 2008 / door Aad van Nieuwkerk

These folks are doing an excellent job of covering the Arkestra's tour. Please follow the link above and support their work!

Sun Ra Arkestra Live vanuit Paradox in Tilburg!

http://www.vpro.nl/programma/dezaterdagvanzes/afleveringen/39831720/

Please note that Tilburg 2008 streams are available by following the link shown above.

De zaterdag van zes
Osama Abdulraso, Sun Ra Arkestra LIVE ! , en Music Works
zaterdag 20 september 2008 21:02

20.00: de Wandelende Tak; Osama Abdulraso
Een ontmoeting met de Iraakse qanun-speler Osama Abdulrasol die samen met zijn groep eind september de Libanese zangeres Jahida Wehbe zal begeleiden in Nederland en België. Deze nog jonge zangeres, die studeerde aan het Libanese National Superior Conservatory of Music, is een waardige opvolgster van de legendarische diva's Umm Kulthum en Fairouz. Haar repertoire strekt zich uit van de klassieke Arabische en liturgische zang, tot soefimuziek en avant-gardistisch muziektheater. Samenstelling en presentatie : Walter Slosse
Concerten.

Woensdag 24.9.08 - Muziekcentrum De Bijloke Gent - 20.00 uur
Zaterdag 27.9.08 - Tropentheater Amsterdam - 20.30 uur
Zondag 28.9.08 - RASA Utrecht - 15.00 uur

21.00: Sun Ra Arkestra Live vanuit Paradox in Tilburg!
Sun Ra is een legende. Hij maakte spacemuziek, een combinatie van jazz en en sci-fi. Dit alles werd gespeeld in bizarre outfits. Sun Ra overleed in 1993, maar zijn Arkestra (waarvan het oudste lid 84 is) is nog live and kicking. Marshall Allen nam onlangs nog een plaat op met Matmos.

Sun Ra Arkestra zal van 15 tot en met 21 september zes exclusieve Nederlandse shows geven in Paradox. Elke dag wordt er ander werk benadrukt. Daarnaast is er een tentoonstelling in de bieb, een filmprogramma en is er een lezing door Sun Ra kenner Mark Dery.

Samenstelling en presentatie : Aad van Nieuwkerk

24.00: Café Sonore: Musicworks
Radio op zoek naar de krochten van de hedendaagse muziek met als focus geluidskunst in de breedste zin van het woord. Vanavond aandacht voor het fameuze Canadese magazine voor de actuele muziek; Musicworks. Geluidskunst, elektroakoestische muziek, soundscapes, hedendaagse gecomponeerde en geïmproviseerde muziek, de hele scope van de actuele muziek passeert de revue bij Musicworks. Bij het blad zit ook altijd een CD.
Dit jaar bestaat Musicworks 30 jaar en in april verscheen het honderdste nummer met muziek van Diane Labrosse, Jem Finer, Jordan Nobles, Mitchell Akiyama en Tasman Richardson.

Expanded "Horizon" CD release on Art Yard Records, Fall 2008

More music coming your way from ARTYARDRECORDS LONDON:

SUN RA And His INTERGALACTIC MYTH Science Solar Arkestra
HORIZON

Recorded at The Ballon Theatre, Cairo, Egypt 12/17/1971.
This concert was sponsored by the Egyptian Ministry of Culture.
Extended recordings.

1. Theme of the Star Gazers
2. Discipline #2
3. The Shadow World
4. Enlightenment
5. Love In Outer Space
6. Third Planet
7. Space Is The Place
8. Horizon
9. Discipline #8
10. We’ll Wait For You
11. The Satellites Are Spinning

Sun Ra { tiger organ, moog syn, upright piano, vocals }
John Gilmore { tenor sax, percussion, drums, vocals }
Marshall Allen { alto sax, flute, oboe, percussion, vocals
Danny Thompson { baritone sax, flute, vocals }
Kwame Hadi { trumpet, conga, vocals }
Danny Davis { alto sax, flute, vocals }
Pat Patrick { electric bass, vocals }
Eloe Omoe { bass clarinet, vocals }
Hakim Rahim { alto sax, flute, vocals }
Larry Northington { alto sax, conga }
Tommy Hunter { drums, vocals }
Clifford Jarvis { drums, vocals }
Lex Humphries { drums, vocals }
June Tyson { vocals, dance }
Verta Grosvenor { vocals, dance }
Gloristeena Knight { vocals, dance }
Richard Wilkinson { light show }

Distributed by ReR MEGACORP.

79 Beulah Rd. Thornton Heath.
Surrey. CR7 8JG. UK
FAX 44 (0)208-771-3138. e-mail:
rermegacorp@dial.pipex.com
www.rermegacorp.com

Distributed in USA by ReR USA,
303 S. Broadway Suite 386
Denver, CO 80209. USA.
www.rerusa.com

Distributed in Japan by
LOCUS SOLUS.
3-18-8 Naka-Ochiai, Shinjuku,
Tokyo 161-0032, Japan.
www.locus-solus.co.jp

To Contact Art Yard email
artyardinfo@gmail.com

“Arkestra In Residence” 15 September 2008 in Paradox, Tilburg

http://zaterdagavond.radio6.nl/2008/09/16/historische-arkestra-opnamen/

Please note that North Sea Jazz 1990 and Delft 1971 streams are available by following the link shown above.

Historische Arkestra-opnamen

dinsdag, 16 september 2008 / door Aad van Nieuwkerk / jazz

De opzettelijke verbastering van “orchestra” tot “arkestra” was nog maar de kleinste van de talloze mystificaties, spelletjes met metaforen, literaire vrijheden, eigenzinnigheden en onnavolgbaarheden van Sun Ra, in 1915 geboren als Herman Poole Blount. Al voor en kort na de Tweede Wereldoorlog was de in Birmingham, Alabama, in het zuiden van de Verenigde Staten, geboren Blount actief als muzikant, componist en bandleider. Sonny, luidde zijn nickname, en misschien klinkt dat wel door in de naam die hij in de jaren ‘50 officieel aannam, Le Son’y Ra (later ingekort tot Sun Ra).

Zoals trouwens het zuidelijk accent doorklinkt in “Arkestra”, het vaste element in de overigens steeds wisselende namen die Sun Ra zijn band placht te geven: The Solar Myth Arkestra, His Cosmo Discipline Arkestra, The Blue Universe Arkestra, en nog zo wat kosmische varianten.

Veel publiek succes heeft Sun Ra met zijn Arkestra eigenlijk nooit gehad, maar door jazz-kenners en -critici is zijn werk altijd hoog gewaardeerd. Ruwweg kun je wat Sun Ra in zijn lange carrière (zijn eerste officieel geregistreerde compositie dateert al van 1936, en hij is actief gebleven tot hij in 1993, halfzijdig verlamd en uitgeput door een serie hersenbloedingen, overleed) heeft gedaan indelen in drie periodes. In 1946 - na een tijdje in het gevang te hebben doorgebracht omdat hij als gewetensbezwaarde niet alleen weigerde om dienst te nemen in het leger, maar weigerde om vervangende dienst te doen - trok Sun Ra zoals zovelen uit het gesegregeerde zuiden van de VS naar het noorden, om zijn heil te zoeken in Chicago. Daar richtte hij in de loop van de jaren ‘50 zijn Arkestra op, waarmee hij optrad en muziek speelde in de big band traditie van - zeg maar even gemakshalve - Duke Ellington. In 1961 verhuisde hij met het Arkestra naar New York, waar een periode aanbrak die je het beste kan omschrijven als Sun Ra’s eigen versie van de free jazz. En rond 1970 verhuisde hij opnieuw, nu naar Philadelphia, waar de derde, muzikaal weer toegankelijker maar ook veel eclectischer periode aanbrak, en waarin je op een concert ongeveer alles kon verwachten: jazz standards, big ban arrangementen, piano-solo-stukjes, electronische en synthesizer improvisaties, woeste lichtshows, en zo nu en dan een arrangement van een deuntje uit een Walt Disney-film.

Meer lezen: kijk op de officiële site, of op de prima Wikipedia-site.

Het Sun Ra Arkestra, inmiddels geleid door Arkestra-saxofonist van bijna het eerste uur Marshall Allen, speelt deze week in Tilburg in het ZXZW Festival. Het concert van zaterdagavond in Paradox wordt live uitgezonden op Radio 6. Hier zijn alvast, voor de echte liefhebber, opnamen uit het North Sea Jazz Festival 1990 (met grote dank aan de NPS) en opnamen van een concert in Delft uit 1971. Klik en luister!

North Sea Jazz 1990
Blue Lou (23′41″), Somewhere over the Rainbow (3′28″), geen titel (7′04″), Face the Music (6′51″), Sunrise (Space is the place/Out of space) (15′35″). Sun Ra (keyboards); Jothan Callins, John Ore, Michael Ray, Fred Adams (trompet); Tyrone Hill, Julian Priester (trombone); John Gilmore (tenorsax, klarinet); Marshall Allen (altsax, fluit); Noes Scott (altsax); James Jackson (fluit, fagot); June Tyson (zang); Buster Smith, Eric Walker (drums); Elson Nascimento (slagwerk). Opname Paulus Potterzaal, Nederlands Congresgebouw Den Haag, vrijdag 13 juli 1990.

Van de opname uit Delft konden zijn nog geen gedetailleerde gegevens boven water. De opname werd gemaakt op 11 november 1971 tussen 20.00 en 23.00 uur, in de Nieuwe Aula van de TH Delft.

http://3voor12lokaal.vpro.nl/magazines/news/index.jsp?portals=26395&magazines=26396&news=1082875

ZXZW Maandag
Festival voor independent culture gaat van start
SUN RA ARKESTRA (20.30 UUR - PARADOX)

CONCERT
Sun Ra Arkestra is de hele week “Arkestra In Residence” op ZXZW, met elke dag (uitgezonderd de vrijdag) weer andere sets. Maandag speelden ze hun eerste twee sets in Paradox.

MUZIEK
Na wat inleidend tromgeroffel start het veelkoppige gezelschap met stevig freejazz gekwetter, om vervolgens op een soort New Orleans brassband groove over te gaan. Daarmee demonstreert het orkest meteen zijn ongekende reikwijdte: er is eigenlijk welhaast geen jazzstijl te bedenken die dit orkest niet beheerst. Men springt moeiteloos van swing naar bop en van beroemde jazz standards naar obscure avant-garde composities. Vanavond ligt de nadruk echter op de begindagen van de jazz met stukken van onder anderen oer-jazzcomponist Jelly Roll Morton, big band pionier Fletcher Henderson en (hoe kan het ook anders) de grote Duke Ellington. Pas wanneer bandleider Marshall Allen aan het einde van de tweede set een eigenaardig elektronisch blaasinstrument ter hand neemt krijgen we ook de kosmische kant van Sun Ra’s klankwereld voorgeschoteld.

PLUS
De ongelofelijke veelzijdigheid van het orkest. De schitterende glitterkostuums van de bandleden. En bovenal de geweldige bandleider Marshall Allen, die ondanks zijn vierentachtig (!) levensjaren nog steeds alle mogelijke klanken (van lyrische tonen tot extatisch gekrijs) uit zijn altsaxofoon weet te toveren. En dat alweer vijftig jaar voor het Sun Ra Arkestra. Mooi om te zien hoe hij als een soort Red Wizard van de Kosmic Kreation Klan het Arkestra dirigeert. Ook leuk dat de blazers van de band aan het eind van het concert in optocht door de zaal gaan als een straatorkestje uit New Orleans. Zo is het immers ooit allemaal begonnen.

MIN
Niet veel noemenswaardigs. Maar er zijn natuurlijk altijd wel kleine zeurpuntjes. Zo is het vanwege de grootte van het orkest en de vele blazers daarin (verscheidene alt-, tenor- en baritonsaxofonisten en trompettisten) niet altijd even makkelijk op drukke momenten alle instrumenten te horen. De bas en met name de gitaar hebben hier soms onder te lijden. (Eén der trompettisten is tijdens de tweede set ook zichtbaar ontevreden over zijn hoorbaarheid.) En één van de tenorsaxofonisten valt een keer te vroeg in tijdens een nummer. En de pianist raakt tussen de sets zijn glitterpetje kwijt, waardoor hij de tweede set blootshoofds moet spelen (schande!). Tot slot is het natuurlijk jammer dat de grote Sun Ra er zelf niet meer bij kan zijn (maar we worden nu eenmaal niet allemaal honderd jaar).

CONCLUSIE
Dit legendarische orkest moet je gewoon een keer meepikken tijdens het festival. Gelegenheid genoeg. De komende dagen zullen in het teken staan van Sun Ra favorieten, standards en werken van Marshall Allen. Komt dat zien!

CIJFER
9, eigenlijk een beetje belachelijk om een orkest van deze statuur van een cijfer te voorzien. (WdW)

New & Forthcoming on The UNHEARD MUSIC SERIES for Fall '08: SUN RA & HIS SOLAR ARKESTRA: SECRETS OF THE SUN Deluxe Reissue

http://www.atavistic.com/albums.php?id=469

New & Forthcoming on The UNHEARD MUSIC SERIES for Fall '08

SUN RA & HIS SOLAR ARKESTRA:
SECRETS OF THE SUN
Deluxe Reissue (UMS266CD-X)

The fourth deluxe RA reissue in the O-Card format from the UMS, released in conjunction with EL SATURN Records has arrived: A superb reissue of a mind-numbingly rare Saturn Records document from '62, with a previously unreleased 17 min. TRACK... all available for the first time on CD!

One of the last great early '60s Saturn LPs to be reissued AND one of his classic early New York releases. So rare that it is barely known even by hard-nosed Ra collectors, it contains music related in approach, acoustics, and arrangement to the more widely heard material on Out there a Minute (Blast First). From a fertile period in Ra's oeuvre, this group is more loose-limbed and ragged than the Chicago bands, and considerably more edgy.

Secrets of the Sun Sun Ra & His Solar Arkestra

OUT OCTOBER 7, 2008:
The fourth deluxe RA reissue in the O-Card format from the UMS, released in conjunction with EL SATURN Records has arrived: A superb reissue of a mind-numbingly rare Saturn Records document from '62- with a previously unreleased 17 min. TRACK... all available for the first time on CD!

"SECRETS OF THE SUN is one of the last great early 60s Saturn LPs to be reissued, and is one of his classic early New York releases. So rare that it is barely known even by hard-nosed Ra collectors, it contains music related in approach, acoustics, and arrangement to the more widely heard material on Out there a Minute (Blast First). From a fertile period in Ra's oeuvre, the "Solar" years, this group is more loose-limbed and ragged than the Chicago bands, and considerably more edgy.

To augment this reissue of SECRETS OF THE SUN, we have included a track that was originally designed to be the B-side of another Saturn record (catalog number 547, a great mystery among Ra-o-philes)- a production that was slated but never issued. Tracking in at the length of an LP side, "Flight To Mars" comes from the same period exactly, with an extremely unusual tape-collage introduction, spliced onto a tremendously swinging, aggressive feature for drums and extended solos all around. Needless to say, it's an honor and pleasure to finally issue this music after it had rested so long in the can. Perhaps you'll agree that it's only gotten better with age. A well-kept secret indeed.

-John Corbett, Chicago/July, 2008

The Tribute To Sun Ra on ESP Radio

Clocking in at 11 hours, and available as lossless audio, this internet radio special was compiled by Michael Anderson—Sun Ra's appointed archiver of the Arkestra. Full of treasures and revelations, this program will be enjoyed by students of Sun Ra's for years to come.

http://www.espdisk.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=28&Itemid=86

ESP Radio

ESP Radio is a downloadable music documentary program that focuses on the artists heard in the ESP-Disk Jazz catalog. The program is coordinated and produced by The Good Doctor as a FREE SERVICE with the intent on exposing many hidden mysteries about some of the key players of the Avant Garde / Free Jazz Era of the 1960’s.

The Good Doctor spent 30 years documenting the development of each artist by conducting interviews that are included in the programming to add an authenticity to the programs.

To communicate with The Good Doctor: Michael@espdisk.com. Please add ESP Radio reply in the subject line.

The Tribute To Sun Ra on ESP Radio

The Good Doctor has produced another milestone ESP Radio tribute and this time to Sun Ra in view of his Arrival Day. The program overviews the early days, Chicago, early blues session work, The Red Saunders period, more unreleased 1948 (?) recordings from the Stuff Smith session minus Stuff Smith, and the entire ESP-Disk recordings.

The highlight of this presentation is the extensive interview footage with Sun Ra speaking plus Bernard Stollman recalling fond memories of Sun Ra and the period. In the program is Sun Ra reads poetry, speaks his wisdom, and most importantly; Sun Ra tells you his own story.

Making Dumb Good: A Casual Conversation about Songwriting, Rock 'n' Roll, and the Legacy of the 'Q Guitar Legend Al Anderson

http://www.popculturepress.com/bigal.html

Making Dumb Good: A Casual Conversation about Songwriting, Rock 'n' Roll, and the Legacy of the 'Q Guitar Legend Al Anderson

By Jonathan Donaldson

“I just got off the phone with Duane Eddy, how cool is that?” asks Big Al Anderson. Funny how such a talented man as the inimitable Big Al can be so lost in his own fandom as to be oblivious to the level of musical respect he's achieved during some 40+ years in the music business. Now I wonder, how cool is it that I just got off the phone with Big Al? It’s not every day that you get to talk to a living legend

Following a noteworthy stint as founder of the mid-to-late 60s soul/pop band the Wildweeds, Anderson spent 25 years with one of the most underrated groups of all time, The New Rhythm and Blues Quartet. Known more commonly, of course, as NRBQ, the group did (and still does) not merely dabble in R&B, but also deals heavily in authentic American country, blues, jazz, and some of the sweetest, sunniest guitar pop not emanating from Liverpool or Hawthorne. After some 15 albums and a grinding 200 dates a year on the road, earning a reputation (and a living) as one of the greatest rock 'n' roll guitarists, period, Anderson finally checked out of the proverbial Red Roof Inn in ‘93, bidding adieu once and for all to the life of a touring musician. The classic Quartet of Anderson, bass player Joey Spampinato, keyboardist Terry Adams, and drummer Tom Ardolino were together for an astounding 23 years without variation. Anderson, Spampinato, and Adams are all great songwriters, players, and singers in their own right, and all could’ve fronted bands. Spampinato has a reputation as being one of the finest bass players in the business, and at one time recently he was even courted by The Rolling Stones. And while the jazz influenced Adams might be main writer and the real genius of the group, I have always gotten the impression from seeing him play that he is as freaked out and psychotic in real life as he is on stage. After talking to Anderson, though, I know I must be wrong. Exasperated with my relentless questioning at one point, Al finally asked, “Have you talked to Terry? He remembers everything.” Nevertheless, Big Al seemed a perfect choice to interview for his personality, his musicality, and the unique legacy that he has carried on for eclectic electric rock guitarists.

He moved into a full-time career as a songwriter and session man in Nashville, the country music capital of the universe. Since Anderson's departure, NRBQ has continued to tour and make fine records with bass player Joey Spampanato’s brother Johnny taking over for the irreplaceable Anderson. Fans agree though, though, with all due respect, that NRBQ will never be the same.

“Little Al” made his first recording on guitar and voice at the age of 10 on a home recording device owned by a family friend. The golden throated lad did a take of the Everly Brothers' “Bye Bye Love” (which floats around record collectors' circles on a rare EP) that is still better than anything most of us could ever manage. Stints in teen rock bands like the Visuals and the Six-Packs followed, before the Wildweeds coalesced around tough east-coast R&B, soul, folk-rock, and rave-up garage rockers--in short, the '60s musical cauldron. Needless to say, Anderson grew-up in a musically supportive atmosphere. His mother, a pianist, and his bass playing father even had an AM radio at one time in their home in Connecticut. His musical influences during his garage band teenage years were not only Chet Atkins, Ray Charles, and Duane Eddy, but also, notably, The Beatles and The Beach Boys.

Anderson, a man who has never had to work another job except music, has gone on to achieve enormous success and top songwriting accolades in the Music City. His songs have been recorded by almost all the big names in the business from LeAnn Rimes to George Jones, and he has co-written with a fascinating variety of songwriters--from old-school guitar great Duane Eddy to John Hiatt, from Miles Zuniga (Fastball) to alt-country twangster Robbie Fulks. However, to fans of the beloved ‘Q (as NRBQ’s name is further shortened to), those beloved recordings made with Anderson between ’71 and ’79 contain some of the greatest pop gems never heard. On any given song, NRBQ could be just as good as The Beatles, if not better. They were just that good.

Throughout a life in music, perhaps because he has spent a lifetime making a sandwich just to the left of the mainstream spotlight, Big Al has maintained an affable, down-to-earth charm that makes him easy to talk to. When I approached Pop Culture Press associate editor Kent Benjamin about doing this interview, he relayed a humorous anecdote to me about how he saw Big Al walking down the street in Austin at the SXSW music festival. Benjamin dropped to his knees in front of Anderson, genuflecting and bowing to the Great One. “He did not look amused,” said Benjamin. In what I discovered to be typical fashion, Anderson had no recollection of this event. “I don’t remember much from the 70s and 80s,” laments the now sober Anderson, who took a ride down the same road of indulgence that has claimed the memories of so many musicians. When I finally got my chance to talk to Big Al for this interview, he was on his cell phone at Sam's Wholesale Club shopping for a chair for his home in Santa Fe, New Mexico (where he lives half the time, and half in Nashville).

PCP: Let’s talk about some of the music you were into when you were coming onto the scene. I know you liked Chet Atkins, Duane Eddy, and Ray Charles—but what about pop? You obviously loved The Beatles?

BA: Big time!

PCP: Which stuff?

BA: Early Beatles was better, period. It was just more fun. You couldn’t pay me to sit through Sgt. Pepper but I could get through Beatles for Sale in a heartbeat.

PCP: Where you good at figuring out their songs?

BA: I thought I was, but I’ve met people who can do it better.

PCP: What about The Beach Boys?

BA: Oh, yeah. “Don’t Worry Baby” drove me nuts. In my bedroom. That’s when they started to get really cool. Everyone says he [Brian Wilson] did his best work on Pet Sounds, but I’ve always thought it was “Warmth of the Sun,” stuff like that. I even told him so. I think he agrees with me, though he’s reluctant to admit it.

PCP: What’s the story there?

BA: It was at a session for a Jerry Lee Lewis album that Andy Paley was working on. Brian was there and I got a chance to talk to him.

PCP: Was he bright?

BA: Are you kidding? The guy's a genius!

PCP: He just seems kind of shell-shocked. It’s hard to tell how much is really there.

BA: He’s different when the camera’s not on him. I think he knows a lot more than he lets on to.
PCP: Who else did you like?

BA: The Troggs. The Kinks. I’m in a big Kinks phase at the moment. What was that one with “Waterloo Sunset” on it?

PCP: Something Else by the Kinks

BA: Yes (sings a bar or two of “Two Sisters”). Ray Davies was very folk-oriented in a different way; in the English tradition.

PCP: Did you like The Left Banke?

BA: They were a great band. “She may Call you up Tonight,” that was a cool song. Had a weird bridge though.

PCP: “Pretty Ballerina,” is one of my favorites.

BA: Yeah, that’s kind of obvious though. Mercury put out a mono and stereo version of that record. I’ve got ‘em both [Anderson is an avid record collector].

PCP: It’s interesting to me that you were into that pop stuff in addition to all of the country, blues, and soul that you were into. My dad for instance was only interested in black music in the '60s. Motown, Stax, Atlantic, James Brown, Chuck Berry, etc. He only liked the Rolling Stones because he thought they were a black group.

BA: That’s not bad stuff to be listening to. Black was usually better. Motown is another one nobody ever talks about in terms of great songwriting.

PCP: Is that the style of songwriting that you refer to your songwriting motto, “Make Dumb Good?”

BA: No, Motown was just plain good. There was nothing dumb about it. NRBQ weren’t ‘make dumb good’ either. They looked innocent on the outside, but they were really professors.

PCP: I always thought that ‘make dumb good’ was all about acknowledging that pop music is dumb in it’s essence and trying to make it good nonetheless.

BA: No, it’s hard to explain unless I really get into it.

PCP: Can you give me an example?

BA: Let's see, do you know The Sir Douglas Quintet?

PCP: No, the name rings a bell, but…”

BA: “She’s about a Mover.”

PCP: Oh sure. I guess I can see how that’s dumb.

BA: But it’s good.

PCP: I would think that Ray Charles would be a particularly big influence on you because he did both soul and country.

BA: He didn’t do country until much later. His earlier stuff on Atlantic was far superior.

PCP: Like “Hit the Road Jack” and that kind of stuff?

BA: Yes. When he did do country they had him recording with white choruses. They just made him sound that much better. Ray was another one that knew that there were no boundaries in music.

PCP: Anybody else you can think about at present?

BA: Definitely the Everly Brothers. Those were just the greatest records ever made. People were so relaxed about making records back then. The musicians. You can just hear it in the recordings. Lieber/Stoller too. For a couple of Jewish guys, they could really rock. Whoever it was that played the piano—can’t remember if it was Jerry or Mike, was really incredible.

PCP: Who did they write for? Elvis?

BA: Yeah, and they did all The Coasters. They did Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is.”

PCP: That’s an incredible song. An existential pop song nonetheless. I’ve always thought that one of the marks of a great artist is when they are able to show great talent right out of the starting gate. Like Dylan with “The Times are a’Changin’” or The Beach Boys with “Surfer Girl.” I mean, it was all there if you think about it. The same could be said about NRBQ’s early output. “Magnet,” “Flat Foot Flewzy...”

BA: That’s my favorite ‘Q right there. Those first two albums.

PCP: See I actually don’t have the first NRBQ album. It’s not out on CD. What I have is the compilation that Columbia put out. (Stay with Me, an erroneously titled ‘best of’ collection containing half of NRBQ’s first album, a couple of cuts off their semi-second album Boppin the Blues [with Carl Perkins], a couple of cuts off their official second album Scraps [their first with Big Al], and a few miscellaneous cutting-room clippings).

BA: They own all that stuff. It’s probably a good thing you don’t have that first album. It was a bad pressing. If you look along the serial number that goes around the inner circle you’ll see “AoB,” which stands for awful or bad. That’s probably one of the reasons that album didn’t make it.

PCP: Well, although it’s misleading to new fans, and certainly not a ‘best-of.’ What I’ve heard from that first album on Stay with Me is amazing and shows the band at full power. A new fan is going to lose out either way they go, because the other ‘best-of,’ Peek-a-Boo, is a double-disc 20-year retrospective. It’s just too much too fast. It’s good for fans, sure, but not for the uninitiated. I think if somebody were smart they would package a single-volume collection of late 60s and 70s NRBQ pure pop geared specifically towards pop fans. What with The Beach Boys, The Byrds, Moby Grape, and The Left Banke being as popular now as ever before. There’s a huge market for that right now.

BA: What, of 60s pop music? Yeah, no kidding!

PCP: Like Sundazed for instance. They’re putting out all kinds of crazy obscure stuff from the sixties.

BA: They just put out the Wildweeds album. Did a beautiful job on it.

PCP: I really think, Al, that along with all the country, blues, jazz, and just plain out-there shit, NRBQ had some brilliant pop, definitely enough to make an unbelievable collection.

BA: People have to classify everything. That’s one thing that was always difficult for NRBQ, is that people could never say what it was.

PCP: Also, I would call it “New Rhythm and Blues Quartet,” the full proper name if you will. And market it to British audiences. “NRBQ” just sounds too much like Bar-B-Q. People might think you’re a funk band…

BA: Huh, I never thought of that.

PCP: I’m only kidding. Plus, long names are cool right now. Like that sixties group, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, they’re pretty big right now. You should cash in on that. Put a cool picture on the cover...

BA: What’s stopping you?

PCP: Ah, I don’t have any money. I’m just a dreamer. Let’s talk briefly about that semi-second NRBQ LP, Boppin’ the Blues. That was still before you joined

BA: That was a great record. I mean “Flat Foot Flewzy,” as you mentioned earlier. I still can’t play that intro.

PCP: Yes you can sir…

BA: No, I can...but Fergie (original NRBQ guitarist, Steve Ferguson) could play it cleaner. The best guitarist ever to play rock 'n' roll. Every note he played counted. He came from the Lonnie Mack tradition, Never bent or slurred a note.

PCP: Good thing for you, but why did he leave the group?

BA: I don’t know. Needed to do some stuff by himself I suppose [whether or not this is true, the amazing Ferguson, who left NRBQ in 1970, remained in relative seclusion until the last few years. He is now actively making recordings and performing again].

PCP: One of the most interesting things about this story is that you were a big fan of NRBQ and especially inspired by Steve Ferguson’s playing before joining the band. And you didn’t know those guys, did you?

BA: No.

PCP: When NRBQ asked you to audition were you excited?

BA: Oh yeah, I was big into those guys.

PCP: Did you think that you were going to be the next Beatles?

BA: No, but I knew I was joining the best band going.


PCP What had really happened to The Wildweeds. Can you explain how that fell apart?

BA: We were trying to keep up with what we weren’t. Soul was changing on the radio in a way that we didn’t want.

PCP: It’s interesting when I think back to my childhood. At the same time when NRBQ were influencing you, they were influencing me. I remember my dad playing the NRBQ when my sister and I were little. Along with jazz, and The Beatles. We thought it was funny music. “Come on if you’re Coming,” “Kentucky Slop Song,” stuff like that. It was very unpretentious, and unlike today’s music. There was no irony. It was just honest fun music.

BA: I think that’s why I liked it too.

PCP: I think we knew that it was like Sundays and pancakes. NRBQ reflected our down to earth, unglamorous reality.

BA: We weren’t thinking any of that. We were just doing what we liked to do.

PCP: Of course. This is coming from the eyes of a three-year-old. It’s just the way time works though. Once stuff gets crystallized in the past and we can hold it, we can say these kinds of things about.

BA: True, time is the judge. That’s where the ‘Q is gonna luck out. If they can just hang in there ‘til they’re 75, they’ll be Ambassadors of Music walking around Washington D.C. like Lionel Hamptons.

PCP: I think another reason why I dig NRBQ so much now is the musicianship. There’s always the possibility in an NRBQ record that at any given time a song could drift out of orbit into something entirely transcendent of rock & roll. I was talking to my Dad the other day about the piano break in “Yes Yes Yes.” It’s just so magnificent and complex. Something The Beatles never could have done.

BA: It started out as a jazz song. The Beatles never let things really get out of control like that because they come from The British school, where everything must be done properly. There wasn’t a whole lot of room for spontaneity. I think a lot of has to do with Terry (Adams--keyboardist and principle songwriter) being into jazz and so influenced by jazz.

PCP: Were there other bands that you felt were transcendent in this way at the time? The Mothers of Invention, for instance?

BA: Naw, never got into them. Don’t know why. But another group that was from outer space was The Band. Their second album, titled just The Band is one of my favorites. That, and The Last Waltz is very enjoyable. Those guys could all really play.

PCP: Having been in a band where you were the lead singer, writer, and guitarist, what did NRBQ want you for originally? As a singer?

BA: Well, everybody sang. Everybody wrote. It wasn’t structured like that. They just brought me in.

PCP: And you did whatever you could with that synergy?

BA: More or less. Whatever chemistry we had we just went for it. There were no roles.

PCP: I guess I forget that NRBQ originally had a singer in Frankie Gadler (an excellent one at that). When all you other guys started singing your own songs, I guess there wasn’t anything left for him to do. Where there situations where you would sing songs that the other wrote, or was it pretty much like the Beatles where you could tell who wrote the song by who sang it?

BA: Pretty much like that. Sometimes me or Joey would sing one of Terry’s songs if it was straining his voice, but sometimes that sounded really cool to let him just go for it anyway.

PCP: Let’s talk about one of my all-time favorites, 1972s Scraps! This was the first album that you were with the band, but you were unable to sing on the record?

BA: That’s right. Because of my contract with Vanguard [The Wildweeds' label].

PCP: What about that Scraps Companion CD that’s out?

BA: I think that’s was a radio show out of Memphis’ Ardent studio...

PCP: Where Big Star recorded?

BA: Yes. It was basically my first gig.

PCP: Is it like The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo album where Gram Parsons couldn’t sing, even though he was really the singer of those songs and sang them live? Remember on the record, McGuinn sings.

BA: No. I wasn’t really singing much. They let me sing “Come on if you’re Comin’.” They had cut that for the first ‘Q record, but I sang it live. We actually re-cut it on [1973's] Workshop with me singing.

PCP: Wasn’t that song also in your repertoire before joining NRBQ?

BA: Yeah, I think it was on my first solo album [Al’s 1971’s contract-breaker with Vanguard titled simply Al Anderson].

PCP: In those days you would just go into the studio and cut tunes, right? It wasn’t like you went in to make albums necessarily?

BA: No, the album format didn’t really come in ‘til ‘68.

PCP: Well Scraps is a great album. It’s the first to be properly released on CD. On Rounder. They did a beautiful job with it. It looks great. It’s got bonus tracks. Plus it’s got some of my favorite songs, like “Magnet.”

BA: Yes. “It’s Not So Hard” is a great song too for pop.

PCP: Definitely. A real obvious Beatles/Byrds sound on that one. That 12-string guitar...
BA: That’s not a 12. That’s me and Terry. Him on a clavinet and me doubling on guitar.

PCP: Wow, that’s a great sound. I think that you are definitely one of the closest things to George Harrison in terms of that tradition of fusing country, pop, r&b, and jazz.

BA: Except I had hits where he didn’t.

PCP: Like what?

BA: “Ridin’ in my Car,” “Get Rhythm...”

PCP: Well, I’m sure that you’re a better player than George, but what I always thought was his greatest attribute was his mind. A lot of those solos really wrote themselves because John or Paul gave him such interesting chord changes to work with.

BA: His were really more “parts” than “solos.”

PCP: But in my book, parts are better than solos. A solo can be good like on a 12-bar blues song, but for pop, a well-thought out part is the way to go. You had some great parts--like the lead guitar on “Mona” or “That’s Alright.”

BA: Another thing about George is that he didn’t play with his thumb.

PCP: What, on his fretting hand?

BA: Yes. And that really limited him. So when you hear him playing that intro to “I Feel Fine,” he’s playing that with his finger barred across the whole guitar. That had a lot to do with his sound.

PCP: And then following Scraps was 1973's Workshop, an album I can only assume is filled with pop gems based on the few tunes I know off it, like the infectious “I’ve Got a Little Secret,” and the Rubber Soul- influenced “Mona.” Yet inexplicably, it remains unreleased on CD to this day. An album from the high-point of NRBQ’s legacy! What is the story?! Somebody is really dropping the ball on this one.

BA: “Mona” was one of Joey’s songs. I love Joey’s songs. They have a million chords in ‘em. And that album was issued on CD. It was called RC Cola and a Moonpie.

PCP: That was only released on LP, Al. That was in ‘86.

BA: Well, Rounder has all that stuff. I guess with the ‘Q, you’ll just have to wait for the boxed set. It’ll all be out at some point.

PCP: Then NRBQ kind of disappeared for a few years?

BA: We were playing some 200 dates a year. When we weren’t in the studio, we were working harder than ever.

PCP: 1977’s All Hopped-Up has the incredible Byrdsy “That’s Alright” and also one of the greatest pop songs of all time on it: “Ridin’ in my Car.” That surely must have been influenced by the Beach Boys [Note: All Hopped-Up was issued on CD only just last year, as Ridin In My Car]

BA: Oh yes. The tag especially mimics the Beach Boys. The 3 on top of a 1-3-5 harmony [sings a bar].

PCP: Likewise, “Feel you Around Me” which you wrote years later. That sounds a lot like late 70s Beach Boys.

BA: I forgot all about that song. I originally wrote it on the piano. That was just me hammering on one note. But I don’t think it was influenced by the Beach Boys 70s work. I wasn’t listening to their current records at the time.

PCP: “Ridin’ In My Car” was then also put on the next album, 1978’s landmark At Yankee Stadium. What was the story with that?

BA: That was at the urging of the guy from Blood Sweat and Tears…

PCP: Al Kooper?

BA: No, but there was a guy who was at the right place at the right time, lotsa times! It was Steve Katz. He thought that would be a great song to put on the album.

PCP: I think so too because it gives the album a nice strong poppy finish to balance things out. Then when that album came out on CD, that “Ridin’” is conspicuously missing. What gives?

BA: Mercury decided to make it a cut-out and they were basically giving away copies, so we weren’t going to get any royalties. We owned that song, so we took it off the album.

PCP: That’s really indicative of the joke in the title of At Yankee Stadium. You guys knew that you were big enough to play in that park, but there just wouldn’t anybody in the stands. I think that this is the album that showed all three songwriters at full-power. For instance, Joey with the Revolver-esque “I Love Her, She Loves Me,” Terry’s stone-cold power pop classic “I Want You Bad,” and your rollicking “It Comes to Me Naturally”—it just couldn’t get any better! “It Comes to Me Naturally” swings so incredibly hard that it’s disorienting. Nobody swings like that anymore.

BA: That’s probably because the rhythm track was laid first and we overdubbed the rest.

PCP: Did you guys really start experimenting with overdubbing on Yankee Stadium?

BA: Oh no! We were doing it all along, from the get-go.

PCP: Really, just with live bass and drums as a foundation.

BA: Yes, just starting with live bass and drums.

PCP: It’s just that some of the songs on Yankee Stadium, like “I Want You Bad” for instance, just sound like they have tons of guitar tracks, unlike a lot of the earlier stuff.
BA: That might be true.

PCP: That guitar solo on “I Want You Bad” is one of my favorites of all time. I have no idea what you are doing there.

BA: [laughs] I have no idea either.

PCP: To the best of your knowledge, what is NRBQ’s impact on the younger generation?

BA: To be honest, I have no idea about that either.

PCP: I know that Elvis Costello is a big fan of you and NRBQ. Are you a fan of E.C.?

BA: Absolutely. He’s so original. Now there’s a guy who knows his music history. He changed the sound. He changed the look. And he’s still going.

PCP: One of my favorite records by him is Brutal Youth, which isn’t that old. When he came in to do the date on your last solo record, Pay Before you Pump, Ron Sexsmith was there too. Do you like Ron’s music?

BA: I’ve never heard it actually.

PCP: Oh, it’s good stuff.

BA: I wouldn’t doubt it if Elvis brought him along. They were doing a double bill together that night.

PCP: Ron’s music is kind of rootsy singer-songwriter stuff. I think your music would go over well with that audience.

BA: Well, I’m working on it.

PCP: Are you ever going to ever give us the Tapestry-style album that we’ve been waiting for over these years while you’ve been giving your tunes to other people to record. After hearing you play with just your acoustic on Bob Brainen’s [WFMU, New York City] radio program, I think you could really have some crossover appeal.

BA: I wanna make that album. Some acoustic stuff, some jazz, but the labels want me to tour, and I don’t think I wanna do that. I might do an album with Stephen Bruton from Austin though.

PCP: That song “Show Me the Way to Keep Moving into the Light,” that you played so beautifully on the Brainen show—what’s the deal with that song?

BA: That’s a little prayer for depression. It was written for Patti Loveless, but she never cut it.

PCP: What a shame about that. What a great song. Along with Costello, Dave Edmunds was another big figure in that English pub-rock scene of the mid-70s. Edmunds and Nick Lowe actually had a group together called Rockpile that did an EP of Everly Brothers' material. That’s about as much of a kindred spirit with NRBQ as you can get! He’s covered your material on more than one occasion.

BA: Sometimes when I hear Dave’s versions of my stuff I seriously can’t tell if it’s him or me. It’s that exact. Right down to the sound of the air in the room. Like his version of “Better Word for Love.”

PCP: Knowing that you guys had some key fans over there, did NRBQ ever play England?

BA: We played there once. Another time we got deported. We got all the way over there and it turns out that the promoter screwed up the working papers. They had us get right back on the plane.

PCP: God I can just see that, that must have sucked! How about other places in Europe?

BA: Oh sure, Scandinavia, Germany—we were big in Germany. Played the Jazz Fest there.

PCP: Before I go, I just want to tell you that my dad wanted to say that he’d carry around your guitar case if you’d let him.

BA: I’d let him do that. Tell him I said thanks, I appreciate that.

Hey, Hey, We're The Wildweeds

Hey, Hey, We're The Wildweeds

The story of Connecticut's best rock band of the 1960s -an archetype of the rock 'n' roll dream.

Alan Bisbort
Hartford Advocate (CT)
October 17, 2002

In the film that will never be made about the Wildweeds—arguably, Connecticut's greatest rock and roll band of the 1960s—the opening scene would take place inside a sleek black limousine parked at a drive-in theater in East Haven.

It is late 1966, and the wintry winds are blowing across the weedy, litter-strewn asphalt of the adult world, while something new, unbearably fresh and impossibly irresistible is playing over the theatre speakers and on the drive-in screen.

There, out there, A Hard Day's Night is getting its East Haven debut, and the Beatles are changing the history of the world.

But inside the black limo, it's business as usual. The windows are rolled up; the portable speaker is left disengaged at the curbside.

There are three men in the limo. They are the legendary Phil Chess, who has flown here from Chicago in hopes of snagging a deal for his famous Chess label; Jerry Greenberg, a small-fry who'd sent Chess a demo by a local band known as the Weeds, hoping Chess will distribute the single on his Green Sea label; and Doc Cavalier, an oral surgeon-turned-record producer whose knob-twirling nom de plume is Trod Nossel.

Conspicuously absent are any of the five members of the Weeds—as the band is known until that very meeting. Though still impossibly young—all but one is still in his teens—the Weeds are a formidable band with a large regional following. Hailing from tiny Windsor, the five Weeds came together after plying their skills at sock hops, VFW and K of C halls, in bands with names like the Al-tones, the Six-Packs and the Blues Messengers.

The music they play is a cross-pollination of current styles, including the blue-eyed soul at which the Weeds excel. The band is versatile enough to segue from Joe Tex to "Lady Madonna" without missing a beat. Something for everyone.

The Weeds are Ray Zeiner (vocals, organ, piano, clavinet), Al Anderson (vocals, acoustic and electric guitars), Martin "Skip" Yakaitis (vocals, assorted percussion), Bob Dudek (bass), and Andy Lepak (drums).

Zeiner, in his mid-20s, is wiser to the ways of the music business than the others.

Dudek is blind and wears teardrop-style shades like those worn by Jose Feliciano. He's also a Beatles fan, even plays the same Hofner violin-style bass as Paul McCartney, and he brings an indispensable pop sensibility to the Weeds' sound. His moptop and shades, though, are the keys to the band's coolness.

Though none of these five know this summit is taking place, they are having their professional fate determined inside that limo.

First order of business: the band's name will henceforth be the Wildweeds. The Weeds, it is decided, has drug connotations.

Secondly, the single will be "No Good to Cry," not "No Good by Crying," as Al Anderson originally wrote it.

Thirdly, Cavalier and Greenberg will be listed as producers, though neither were present when the song was recorded.

Finally, and most importantly, Chess will release the single on his Cadet label, making the Wildweeds one of the few white acts on a prestigious, predominantly black national label.

Chess, Greenberg and Cavalier-Nossel decide on their cut and a final agreement is nailed down, to be rubber-stamped soon thereafter by the members of the Wildweeds, who don't know any better. It's the quintessential rock 'n' roll fairy tale meeting the all-too-familiar rock 'n' roll cautionary tale.

The band is about to take its first—and, as it turns out, only—giant step toward rock 'n' roll immortality.

While many groups did well enough to sustain regular gigs, the Wildweeds—still the Weeds to their myriad fans—had something special. They had a rare combination of talent, original songs, great covers (Beatles, Kinks, Stones, Animals, Lee Dorsey) and unrivaled professionalism.

They wore tuxes on stage. They arrived on time. They played in tune. They rehearsed between gigs.

And when they performed in public, Al Anderson, Bob Dudek and Ray Zeiner could all sing like champs, while the band could pop like Merseybeat heroes or put the pedal to the metal like a Nutmegged Steppenwolf.

"The best time with the Wildweeds was before we put out any records," says Anderson, who went on to become an integral part of NRBQ and, since 1993, one of the preeminent songwriters in America. "We played clubs like the Red Ash and the Rock a Bye, a black club in the North End owned by one of the Niteriders. Going over in front of a black audience was the greatest feeling in the world."

"We were excellent right off the bat and I don't recollect having any problem with audience apathy," says Ray Zeiner, who now lives in Simsbury and makes his living as a piano technician. "Everyone loved us. It seems pompous to say that but it was true."

After the sock hops and frattybagger bashes, the Wildweeds graduated to club dates and opening slots for chart-toppers like the Young Rascals, the Turtles, the Cowsills, Vanilla Fudge and the Doors. They continued to expand a loyal local fan base.

Bo O'Reilly, who grew up in Southport and now lives in Durham, North Carolina, was a fan. He recalls, "I attended Kent School during high school, and we'd have two large sock hops each year. The gym would be decorated by students, and popular bands from the region would be booked. In this setting, the Wildweeds played once around 1966 and a second time in 1967. Their Chess/Cadet single 'No Good to Cry' had just come out and they were pretty hot. I still have a small Instamatic snapshot photo of Big Al Anderson that I took then."

The story of how the Wildweeds came together sheds light on what was a thriving live music scene in Hartford at that time.

Prior to the Wildweeds, Zeiner the keyboardist had a regular gig for three years as the house organist at a Hartford jazz club, the Hofbrau. He got this job while playing a gig one night at the Subway, a black club run by a North End legend named Al Mathis.

"A guy came up to me and informed me that I was going to be playing Hammond organ at his club, the Rock a Bye, six nights a week," says Zeiner. "I told him that I didn't know how to play the Hammond, and he said, 'You'll learn.' I was making 60 bucks a week at a veterinary hospital and playing weekends. He offered me $80 a week and cheap rent. Who could refuse?"

Zeiner formed, with drummer Melvin Smith and guitarist Fletcher Bass, the Ray Mell Bass Trio. They got a gig in 1963 at the Hofbrau that eventually lasted three years.

"We were the house band, alternating sets with the likes of Cannonball Adderly, Art Blakey, Sonny Rollins, Gene Krupa, Cozy Cole, King Curtis, and so many more greats that I can't name them all," says Zeiner.

When that group disbanded, Zeiner found himself freelancing again. Just for fun one night, Zeiner sat in on trumpet with the Six Packs, which included Al Anderson, Skip Yakaitis, Alex and Andy Lepak, and George Christensen.

A few months later, at Yakaitis's insistence, Zeiner checked out the Six Packs again. They were suddenly so tight, he decided to join.

"We all had so much common ground that it was easy to get tight in a hurry. The organ/piano was the final touch in a very nice rhythm section. We were all well known, individually, in the area so we got plenty of local exposure."

After exhaustive rehearsing, the band—managed by Al Lepak, Sr., a distinguished music professor at the Hartt School—scraped up enough money to buy a few hours of recording time at Syncron in Wallingford.

"We had two tunes to record that day, both written by Al, 'No Good to Cry' and 'Never Mind,'" says Zeiner. "We spent most of the time trying to get a sound on 'No Good to Cry.' Al had a cold and didn't want to do the vocal, but I goaded him into singing. He was pissed, but that showed up in the performance as strong emotion, and even though he could have sung it better, technically, I don't know if we would have had that raw sound and emotional content that he put forth that day."

"Business wise, none of us knew anything," says Anderson, who continued to write stellar songs that the Wildweeds recorded. Among these eclectic treasures are the blistering "I'm Dreaming," the Zombies-like 'message' song, "Sorrow's Anthem," and stunning soul chestnuts like "Can't You See that I'm Lonely," "Happiness is Just an Illusion," and "Where is Our Love," which, in a better world, would have been an unstoppable hit for the Four Tops. (As it was, "Someday Morning" was a hit in Hartford and listed in the "Bubbling Under" chart in Billboard).

Doc Cavalier was (and still is) one of those manic rock 'n' roll characters who seem to turn up at the most propitious moments. His ability to embellish a tale over time and repeated retellings is charming if not always in agreement with other eyewitnesses.

"It's very difficult to describe that time, because it was just good music everywhere," says Cavalier, who today still runs his Wallingford studio, now called Trod Nossel Productions. "The Shack in Watertown. There was the Sherri Shack on Route 1 in Branford. And the Wildweeds were the #1 act in this entire area.

"We all arrived on the same bus as The Who's My Generation. But we were no longer on the bus, we were walking on our own."

Cavalier had heard the demos the Weeds cut at the earlier incarnation of his studio. He inherited all the demos of all the bands who'd recorded at Syncron when he bought the studio and changed its name to Trod Nossel. He'd just thrown over a Tufts University degree and a budding dentistry business to follow his quixotic dream of being the next Andrew Loog Oldham (the Rolling Stones' manager and producer who, ironically, is now a good friend and business partner with Cavalier).

After hearing the Weeds' demos, Cavalier caught the band live. He was hooked.

"The Wildweeds were one of the few bands I could go to see live purely as a fan," says Cavalier. "The Wildweeds were one of the greatest bands I have ever heard. I used to tell people, 'Here are five guys out of Windsor who were all black in a prior lifetime.'"

The band members' relationship with Cavalier was, and still is, tempestuous.

This is especially true of Anderson, who until this year still had a home in the Windsor area. He remembers the star-making logistics differently.

"We never even got paid for that recording session," says Anderson, in a phone conversation from his new home in New Mexico. "We never saw a nickel from the record sales. Cavalier and Greenberg were listed as producers of that record even though we'd never met them when we recorded it. Cavalier talked me out of my publishing rights because I was a kid and naive. I see this sort of thing happening all the time in Nashville today. It never changes."

Cavalier bears Anderson no ill will, though he did rather testily tell Ralph Hohman of the Meriden Record-Journal, "All I can say is I made him a star."

"Al Anderson was not just one of the great singers," says Cavalier. "He is one of the great talents in American music. He was a phenomenal songwriter and guitarist, too. I always felt that Al was taking a step backwards when he joined NRBQ. They have a cult following and I understand that, but Al was and is one of our great musical talents."

His negotiating techniques notwithstanding, Cavalier expended a lot of energy in furthering the Wildweeds' career, even hiring a film crew to document the band at Trod Nossel studio. He experimented with arrangements on later recordings, including hiring Bert Keyes, who'd previously worked with Dionne Warwick, to write an arrangement for "It Was Fun While it Lasted," bringing in string players from the Hartford Symphony and horn players from the Hartt School.

And though Anderson feels Trod Nossel studio was "second rate" when the Wildweeds came there to polish their sound, that can't be said of the place today. Since the Wildweeds recorded there in the 1960s, among those who've mixed tunes on Trod's nozzles are Joe Cocker, Donovan, Taj Mahal and Fleetwood Mac. Cavalier says, "When I listen to a song, I always ask myself, 'Does it have timelessness?' 'Will they be listening to it years from now?'"

Leaving it unstated, he clearly thinks the answer to both questions, in regards to the Wildweeds, is an emphatic "Yes."

It was, however, that Cavalier-less version of "No Good to Cry" that would gain the band national recognition. By early 1967, when that single was released on Cadet, it was ranked #1 for four weeks running on WDRC's Swingin' 60s Survey and then in April, hit #1 on stations throughout New England.

The world was seemingly their oyster. Indeed, could there be any greater feeling in the world than this one, described by the "baby of the group," then 17-year-old drummer Andy Lepak: "I remember being a senior in high school, leaving class, getting in my convertible, putting on the radio and hearing '#1 again this week—The Wildweeds!'?"

But that's as far as the ride to stardom took them. "No Good to Cry" also charted at #1 in smaller markets in the South (and was, and still is, a staple of any club that features "beach music"), as well as #5 in New Orleans and Cleveland. And though it sold 100,000 copies, the single never broke into New York and Los Angeles and it died in the upper 80s on the national charts.
This did not stem the enthusiasm of a band as confident as the Wildweeds. After all, the gifted, prolific Anderson wrote "No Good to Cry" in a hurry, penning the lyrics in the car on the way to the studio. The follow-up single, "Someday Morning," a psychedelicized pop nugget (replete with Beethoven organ riff) was proof that he could produce quality songs even then.

They had high hopes that Chess, based in Chicago, would find a way to free them from their Connecticut base.

But by the time he got them a weeklong gig in Chicago, musical tastes had changed nationally. FM radio was thriving, free-form improvisation was in, revolution was in the air. Tuxedos and professionalism were strictly Las Vegas, man. Toward the end of their original line-up, the Wildweeds did have one memorable gig—opening for the Doors at Oakdale Theatre.

"Before I met them at the Oakdale, I thought they were ultra hip," says Anderson. "But I got the distinct impression the guys in the Doors weren't very happy people."

Anderson managed to hold the group together as the Wildweeds until 1971, partly because he'd always wanted to play country music and partly because he'd signed a contract with Vanguard Records.

O'Reilly, the fan, caught them a third time during this stage. "I didn't see The Wildweeds again until 1969 when a girl I dated invited me to her high school graduation dance in Westport or Norwalk," he says. "By this time they looked more hippie-ish, and had much longer hair. The conga player was gone and the blind bass player had switched to drums."

A poor-selling Wildweeds album was released on Vanguard in 1970, which at least allowed Anderson to realize his dream of visiting Nashville, where legends like Charlie McCoy, Mac Gayden and Weldon Myrick sat in on the sessions. But, by then, Anderson had already become a member of NRBQ, from which he amicably departed in 1993.

Anderson estimates that he still writes anywhere from 80 to 100 songs a year and records demos of 70 of them. And, his songs have been covered—and been hits for—Carlene Carter, George Jones, Jerry Lee Lewis, Dave Edmunds, Hank Williams, Jr. His achievements culminated with the Songwriter of the Year award from BMI in 2000.

The proof of the Wildweeds' greatness is in the pudding, and the pudding has just been served by Confidential Recordings, an independent New York label run by musician Michael Shelley and producer Dean Brownrout. All of the Wildweeds' early singles and outtakes have been re-mixed and re-mastered by Doc Cavalier and repackaged on No Good to Cry: The Best of the Wildweeds (www.confidentialrecordings.com). The remarkably crisp sound quality and the exhaustive liner notes make this an indispensable item for anyone who remembers hearing or seeing the Wildweeds "back in the day." It's also a must-have for anyone else who never saw the Wildweeds but still cherishes tightly arranged 1960s pop. Hell, this collection will convince you that, with the right push at the right time, the Wildweeds could have been huge stars.

And yet, had it not been for one of the Wildweeds' unlikeliest fans, a vinyl junkie named Richard Brukner who was born the year the Wildweeds first started performing, this too would have never come to pass. Brukner was so smitten with the Wildweeds' scratchy old Cadet singles—which he'd purchased on eBay—that he burned the tunes onto CDs for his own, and his friends', listening pleasure.

"I knew Doc Cavalier had the tapes. That was the easy part. The tough part was putting the notes and package together and getting the OK from the original members of the band," says Brukner
Brukner's first phone conversation with Anderson was less than auspicious.

"My first talk with him was full of expletives," says Brukner. "He had no great love for this project. He hadn't heard these things in 30 years and was under the impression that the recordings were terrible."

"When Richard called, I wasn't angry at him personally. I just thought, 'Oh boy, here we go again'," says Anderson, who admits to being won over by the younger fan's enthusiasm. "My take on the music is totally different from anyone else's since I wrote the songs. It can be embarrassing to listen to the lyrics you wrote as a teenager."

"He was 18 when he sang 'No Good to Cry'! The whole band, besides Ray, were teenagers," says an awestruck Brukner. "They are not playing like 18- or 19-year-olds on these singles. This was not a garage band, not that being a garage band is a bad thing. They were professionals who played and sounded like soul music veterans."

Brukner ran into the same resistance from Dudek but for a different reason: Dudek was gravely ill.

"I tried for months to track him down and finally in May of this year I got through to him by e-mail," says Brukner. "He was dying of cancer and was nonplussed about the possibility of this project happening. One of the things that makes me the happiest about this is that, before he died, he knew this was going to happen and it made him happy."

Skip Yakaitis, who moved to New York City in the 1970s, died from heart disease in 1988.
Andy Lepak still performs music, though nothing like that of the Wildweeds. He plays the piano on Friday and Saturday nights at the Taste of India in West Hartford.

Until Brukner got involved in their lives, the surviving members of the Wildweeds had not seen each other in over three decades. When they posed for a photograph earlier this year at Anderson's house, they realized it had been since 1969 that they were all together. The acrimony of the band's demise had passed and the camaraderie was obvious.

Though Anderson splits time now between Nashville and New Mexico, he hasn't completely severed ties with Connecticut. He still comes to Windsor because his dentist and barber are here, and he has three grown children who live in Collinsville.

Zeiner, like Anderson, prefers to recall the good times with the Wildweeds.

"There was always an element of spontaneity in the band and there were many great nights artistically. They were what I lived for ... inspiration. I frankly had no use for the phony vision that people had of us," says Zeiner, who remembers each member fondly and individually.

Of Anderson, he recalls, "A beautiful songwriter, singer, guitarist, friend and youngster. Once, on the bandstand he was a professional. I like to think that I had something to do with his professionalism. I felt always like an older brother."

Of Yakaitis, Zeiner says, "Skip was the front man, a great personality. He had a laid-back attitude, which was great for us as most of the rest of us were wired. Skip was underrated because he never really worked too hard at it, but in fact he had a lot of innate talent, and was an irreplaceable asset."

Of Andy Lepak, he recalls, "A terrific drummer and a wonderful, gentle person. Always cooperative and sang some Beatles and did background vocals. You couldn't ask for more in a partner."

Of Bob Dudek, he recalls, "A great bassist and vocalist, and an educator of the band in regard to the Beatles. Bob had a wonderfully solid way of playing bass and singing at the same time that was a thrill to behold."

To read more about the Wildweeds' history and to order their music, check out these two excellent Web sites: www.wildweeds.net, or www.confidentialrecordings.com.

Copyright 2002, 2007, New Mass Media. All Rights Reserved.

For Connecticut's Wildweeds, it was fun (sort of) while it lasted

http://www.nhregister.com/articles/2002/08/23/import/5135264.txt

For Connecticut's Wildweeds, it was fun (sort of) while it lasted

Friday, August 23, 2002 3:00 AM EDT By Fran Fried

It was also strong enough, despite its lowly position on the chart, to warrant inclusion in an early-'90s Rhino one-hit wonders compilation. The other region where it was big was the South—where another white soul group, The Hour Glass, led by Gregg and Duane Allman, also cut a version, which surfaced a decade ago on The Allman Brothers box set.

In later years, The Wildweeds were also renowned in 20/20 hindsight for their most famous alumnus: guitarist/singer/main songwriter Al Anderson, who later played with NRBQ for 22 years (and wrote one of the great rock'n'roll radio tunes, "Ridin' in My Car") before becoming one of Nashville's top tunesmiths.

This month, music fans saw the arrival of the Hartford-area band's anthology CD, "No Good to Cry: The Best of The Wildweeds," compiled by Richard Brukner (longtime producer for New London's Reducers) and released on New York-based Confidential Recordings, the label he runs with singer Michael Shelley.

It was remastered and remixed by Doc Cavalier and Richard Robinson at Wallingford's Trod Nossel Studios. The Wildweeds (then called The Weeds) recorded "No Good to Cry" there in 1966, when it was still Syncron Studios; Cavalier, after buying the studios the next year, found the song's tapes in the archives, reworked it into single form, then helped arrange a deal for its release on Chess Records' subsidiary label, Cadet.

"I was happy about it," said keyboardist Ray Zeiner, of Simsbury, of the collection. "It was about time it was done correctly. Even the vinyl (recordings) weren't the best quality." He was referring tothe sonic quality of both the original records, which none of the band members were happy with; and a bootleg anthology LP that came out in the late '80s. Now, he said, "I think a lot of the material sounds fresh."

The new disc (at www.confidentialrecordings.com) brings back a flood of memories not just for fans, but band members. Not that all the memories of the band were great ones, mind you.

Windsor native Anderson, now living in Santa Fe, N.M., is not one to hold back much. "I didn't care if it came out. I didn't have many fond memories of it," he said. That was until he heard the tapes again recently and "after I heard Bob playing 'I'm Dreaming' on bass." Bob was Bob Dudek, a Stamford native, blind from boyhood, who stepped in after original bassist Al Lepak Jr. went into the Army; Dudek died in June of cancer. "He was a great bass player. He had a jazz background."

The band members all had solid backgrounds forged by playing in a tight, competitive and thriving Hartford scene.

For all the notoriety The Wildweeds would achieve for that one song, "The best part of the band was before the record came out," said Anderson. And Zeiner went one better: "The best band I played in was The Ray Mill Brass Trio. We played six nights a week. We were extremely tight."

(Tight, indeed. That trio played four hours a night four nights a week, six hours nightly on the weekends, at a club called the Hofbrau Haus, where they would alternate sets with the likes of Cannonball Adderly, Art Blakey, Sonny Rollins, Yusef Lateef, Horace Silver, Gene Krupa, Cozy Cole and King Curtis. The customers included Boston Celtics legend Bill Russell, who was invited down to hear them by Adderly.)

Anderson has talked often about how country was his first love—picking up WWVA radio all the way from Wheeling, W.Va., as a boy—but his head was turned toward soul in high school.

"It was fun being popular, but going over with the black audience was the biggest deal to me, because black people got so much more going on," he said. "Listening to Sunday gospel or Ray Charles—I learned, really, from him. I started playing in The Impalas at the time I was getting into Ray Charles. He got to the heart of me."

In the early '60s, the future Wildweeds played with each other on and off in various configurations. Anderson, still in high school, played in a late incarnation of The Impalas, the first band with which Zeiner played. Zeiner later played with the Lepak brothers, Andy and Al, in The Blues Passengers, for which Anderson played bass after a series of substitute four-stringers (including Dudek).

Anderson teamed with percussionist Skip Yakaitis, guitarist George Christiansen and the Lepaks (Al on bass, Andy on drums) to form The Six Packs. Christiansen left in 1965. Dudek replaced Al Lepak Jr. in the spring of '66. Zeiner joined the group in the summer. Like the band's manager—the Lepaks' father, Al Sr.—the older Zeiner brought some polish and professionalism with him.

The band had recorded some demos at Syncron ("Fuzzy Wuzzy" is on the CD), but not a single. In October 1966, they returned to cut "No Good to Cry," which had become popular at dances. For a 2:42 song, they spent a lot of time, money and frustration.

"We did that in one day with all the money we had. It was an eight-hour session. It was our first time in the studio (in that lineup)," Zeiner said.

"The original recording session didn't go well. It sounded real good and clean, but it had no soul (until he persuaded the band to change the studio ambience). It was the best we could do at the time. Al was not at his best. He was angry and he had a cold and he really didn't want to sing it, and you can hear that anger in his voice."

When asked if he was angry that day, Anderson said, "I think so. (But) Deep down, I knew I could do it. I was just being an a--hole."

After Cavalier heard the song, he wanted to work a recording deal with the group. At the time, King Curtis, a friend of Zeiner from the Hofbrau days, was a producer at Atlantic Records and tried to get them a deal there.

The band went with Cavalier. He sought to release it on his friend Jerry Greenberg's Green Sea label, but after the song got a wild response from Bertha Porter, then the influential program director at WDRC, Greenberg sought a distribution deal with Phil Chess of Chess Records. Instead, Chess wanted to release the disc himself, and Cavalier, Greenberg and Chess signed the deal in the parking lot of the Post Drive-In, in East Haven. They changed the band name to The Wildweeds to avoid drug connotations, and the rest.

Anderson was asked whether he thought things would have been different had they gone with Atlantic. "That's a total unknown," he said. "Atlantic had a lot more clout. We never liked the sound of our records at all. Atlantic Records' production was great always. I played with King Curtis in Hartford. So did Ray. Probably in hindsight. Who knows if the record would have gotten big?"

That said, "I don't think Chess had what it took to put it through. And we were white."

Listening to the CD, you'll hear a band that ran much deeper than its no-hit one-hit. "Someday Morning" is a shouter even more intense than "No Good"; so is "Where Is the Love." "It Was Fun While It Lasted" is the raw cousin of a polished Motown cut. "Happiness Is Just an Illusion," a mix of breezy, horn-accented soul and mild psychedelia, is also notable for the line "Without one hand of the clock, what good is the other?"—a lyric Anderson recycled when he wrote "Ridin' in My Car" years later.

But like every band, things started falling apart for them, beginning with a brief Midwestern tour in 1968. Bandmates weren't getting along; relations between them and Cavalier were strained, too, and eventually severed. Groping for footing in a changing musical landscape, Anderson led them to radically change course to a country sound.

"Everything was changing with the British thing. We were trying to keep up," he said. "We never got along much, either. We were behind the times, that's all."

"I was the first one to leave, because things started to peter out and I saw it coming," said Zeiner, who has built a career tuning and repairing pianos.

"I enjoyed it," he said of his time with the group. "But I have to tell you, my reaction isn't typical. It was nice, but personally, the notoriety I found to be a problem. (But) I enjoyed it. The band was good and it was exciting in those times."

The band's recorded one self-titled, country-rooted album, released on Vanguard in 1969, that befuddled their fans. (It's not represented here). The band broke up shortly after.

The Lepaks still live in Connecticut; Andrew still plays in the Hartford area. Anderson cut a solo album for Vanguard, but his fate was cast the night Lakaitis (who died of a heart attack in 1988) took him to his first NRBQ show in Amherst, Mass., in 1969. Two years later, Anderson was in the band.

Sober 11 years now and weary of the grind of touring, he left the Q in 1993 to enter the competitive world of Music City songwriting. He gradually began writing for one star after another in the mid-'90s, and in 2000 was given a BMI Songwriter of the Year award.

Most recently, he wrote Tim McGraw's No. 1 country hit "The Cowboy in Me," and has just penned three songs with Vince Gill and two with Patty Loveless. He recorded a critically acclaimed, small-selling album in 1996, "Pay Before You Pump," and recently cut the yet-to-be-released disc "Trailer Ranch," with Bekka Bramlett (late of Fleetwood Mac), Fastball singer/guitarist Miles Zuniga and the members of Mark Knopfler's touring band.

"It's a lot easier sitting on your couch making s--- up than spending 22 hours on a bus and staying at a Red Coach Inn," Anderson said, again with a chuckle.