ANOTHER BAD RAP

The feeling most generated by the new “pop sound” capitol is boredom. The rate Detroit is progressing causes speculation that perhaps it will all be over before it even had a chance to begin. This boredom is due to the whole structure of the Detroit scene. At the bottom of the scale are the fans. These patrons of the arts buy more records, pop magazines, and tickets to rock concerts than anyone preceding them. Alas, the kindest words that can be said about them is that though mindless, they are loyal. Within their reach they have the power to crush Russ Gibb, Mike Quatro and all the other impressarios of Detroit’s rock and roll cult. But the fans are much too comfortable where they are. People tell them who to like, what to buy and where to go. These various people care about them. Didn’t Dan Carlisle even announce his concern over the air about them taking the bus home in that BAD neighborhood after the Detroit Pop Festival?

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Early last fall this kid came into Mixed Media, where I work, and asked if we had the album “Switched on Bach”, because he’d heard someone talking about it on WABX. The album had not yet been released yet so I told him to come back in a few days. He returned about a week later (and two days after the album had been released) to tell me we shouldn’t stock it because he’d gone out to Oakland Mall and bought it and it was “really shit, like it isn’t rock at all”. Too bad, Johann, better luck with your second album.

As comfortable as the fans are in their place, most everyone else feels comfortable with them there. When kids respond to what they’re told it’s so much easier to sell the products. Even when the band is good it takes so much effort to push them that it becomes a drag. And the bands (good, bad, and indifferent) are so proud of being the new Detroit sound that they give you the same handful of songs they’ve been giving you the past 6 months to a year with few changes.

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The Beatles began their second American tour with a press conference at Kennedy Airport. One of the newsmen asked John Lennon if he thought the Beatles were the best group in the world. He replied, “No, but we don’t have to be.” Most of the better known Detroit groups have reached that stage. Why try hard to be good when you don’t have to try at all? The answer of course is that you don’t. At least not until the day comes when you realize that you could go up on stage, belch three times, walk off to a standing ovation. Then playing becomes a real drag and you either break up (as the Cream did) or (like the Beatles) you forget about the “fans” and play only for your own satisfaction. Either way the experience leaves a stale taste in your mouth. And if you never really were sure that you could make good music together, never were sure that the whole thing wasn’t just an easy way to a quick buck then you’ll find that you have only one choice not two. Goodbye Cream.

The top echelon in Detroit is getting fat and lazy. Where before they worked to make the shit they handed you palatable, they now just give you shit—take it or leave it! On top of the heap is Uncle Russ, the friendly school marm. He’s brought great name bands at outrageous prices (but it isn’t his fault) and everybody’s loved it. It doesn’t seem to matter how much he lies because Uncle Russ Loves You and you love him. The situation was reflected at the Ballroom when the MC-5 played. The price was mistakingly advertised a dollar cheaper than the admission charged at the door. Roy Tyner told the kids they’d been had. They shouldn’t put up with that crap, etc. The crowd cheered wildly and raised their fists with the revolution sig n. But half of them came back the next night and paid that extra dollar and probably still are.

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But to blame Uncle Russ for the high cost of Grande tickets is like blaming Richard Nixon for the war in Viet Nam. Sure he plays a major role in setting prices but he is not solely responsible. He’s just the middle cog of a system which says in part:

1. We are a famous rock and roll group who deserves a high fee (like 50% or 60%) because we are going to draw 3000 people to your ballroom regardless of what they are asked to pay-

2. I am your rich landlord who is required by the golden rule of slum landlords to extract every spare nickle this place can be made to take in so that my rent (read sizeable percentage of the net) will be as big as possible while the amount of money I spend on maintaining the building (i.e. running water in the mens room) will be kept at a bare (very bare) minimum.

3. We are your loyal, faithful, and true blue Grande fans. We will come to your ballroom every weekend. We don’t care whc’s playing. And if you keep bringing back the Procol Harum we don’t care how much you charge we’ll love you more Uncle Russ.

4. I am Uncle Russ, and whether I charge two dollars or five dollars some people will think its too much but 3000 people will come to the Ballroom anyway so why not charge five dollars and become rich.

This of course is still an oversimplification. But the high prices will continue as long as the groups demand exhorbanant fees (Steppenwolf got $10,000 for two sets over two nights, Procol Harum demanded that their road manager take tickets and keep count of the house (he, in turn, refused admission to several people who normally get in free because he couldn’t count them if they didn’t have tickets and Gabe wouldn’t give them tickets because then he’d have to pay the group $2.50 for each of them) and the MC-5, upon discovering the extra dollar charge, could have (as the “true revolutionaries” they claim to be) refused to play until the dollar was refunded, or (like the “rock and roll band” they also claim to be) they could have demanded their share of the extra dollar. Instead they got on stage, screamed a little bit about the extra money, and went home. They’re no better than the kids who screamed with them.

“We want our rights and we don’t care how.

We want a revolution, NOW.”

Marat-Sade.

And if Russ kicking you in the

face isn’t enough there’s always that ! self-made man, Mike Quatro. Mike ihas a strong hold on the band bookings in Detroit. Mike (read the interview with him in Creem 4 for an jin depth look into his keen personality) is all for Detroit bands. He’s there to give a helping [hand.. .recently a band that’s been having trouble finding bookings came to him. Mike was glad to help them. His only requirement was that , they Should go out and make a name j for themselves first.

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But to-spend any time at all calling Mike Quatro an asshole is not only a redundancy but also a big waste of time. For, whatever Quatro is, he is nothing that he doesn’t go out of his way to tell anyone who’ll listen to him. H^like the high ticket prices at the Grande (and at sit down concerts too), are not the problems, they are but symptoms of a system which Detroit rock fans have allowed to encircle them. A system that is in every way as vicious as the “pigs” that all the “revolutionaries” scream about.

All right “kiddies” lets stop screaming and start acting. If you : think ticket prices at the Ballroom are too high don’t go, or sneak in, or figure ou some other way to get in free. Don’t get hyped into buying anything, no matter how subtle the hype! (if Johnny Winter was really a $300,000 find how come Albert King or Fredy King still can’t get more than standard commission for records sold and Howlin Wolf had to be literally forced into the studio to record an “electronic” album that was commercial and “now” because he “needed the money”).

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rap.

Or maybe we should all lend our total support to the sounds of Revolution on Columbia Records”, because nothing is too sacred nor too controvercial to .be exploited on Madison Avenue. This year its been revolution maybe next year it will be pubic hair. Will the top group of‘69 be called “Curl Free’’?

Detroit has the malcings of being at the top of the list of rock-politics intrigue. Perhaps if there could just be heard “a little revolution out there” it could be just as intriguing musically as politically because the way it stands now it’s all a bit of a bore.

LICORICE

Chewy Like a Mouth Full of Concrete

Screaching out with all the unleashed fury of a duck billed platypus with a slipped disc. That my dear friends is the sound of the Licorice. Steve Willis - lead Jim Theil - drums (the Man to watch). Jan Higashi, vocals (the Man to avoid) Bubba - bass, hold together the Licorice. I have been told that they have been together for four years, doing what, I have no idea. I should like specifically to point out the lead singers ingenious manner of falling to his knees and kissing the floor, probably part of some long since forgotten pagan ritual. Not to mention Steve’s remarkable imitation of Elvis’ death-defying spread-legged split (no one under 11 to be admitted unless accompanied by a seamstress). Bubba who seems to have a thing going with his amp. EITHER that or his zipper had sprung and he was afraid of embarrassing anybody sitting close enough to notice. Jim, incredible man, incredible. I have never seen such a turn out at the Crows Nest -East, not since the Landeers, who incidently brought the house down with their rendition of Louis-Louis.

All in all a must on your entertainment list.

May we all take part in nominating them for Creem’s, Groups we have known and Loved Award.

Yours till you see me on the street REECE

NOTE: This article was written at 5:00 in the morning. May God have rpercv on my soul.

GOOD viBfes ~

c/o Spencer Davis et all.

I certainly have a knack for choosing places wheje the action isn’t for my entertainment. One of my biggest flops along this line took place recently at a “Pop Concert” at Grove’s High in Birmingham. That talent lineup was quite spectacular for a high school, featuring the U.S. (former Unrelated Segments), the' Plain Brown Wrapper and none other than Spencer Davis. One would think that literally thousands would show up and the gym was well equipped to handle a crowd of that magnitude, but, for some unknown reason, only a few hundred attended.

The U.S. kicked off the show with an ultimately hilarious (to me anyway) set. The amps were all the way up and drowned out the vocal completely. Their material was generally uninteresting and the lead player (who seemingly possesses the only talent in the group) limits his range to a few chords.

Ending the set with a mediocre “Toad”, the drummer began lashing his drums about. (Must we destroy our equipment fellows?) He leaped off the chair he had been standing on, picked up a drum and started climbing on top of an amp, as the lead player manned the bass drums while still playing. It was truly comical to witness.

Continuing the evening’s entertainment was a tremendous group, The Plain Brown Wrapper, out of Lansing. I have never witnessed anything so superbly coordinated, so absolutely tight, in my entire life.

The seven-man group led in with “Up, Up, and Away” as five sweet voices blending in perfect harmony. Their instrumentation consists of, a varying moments with varying members playing, a trumpet, trombone, organ, bass, rythm and lead guitar, both normal and Congo drums. The music the Wrapper produces won’t blow your mind, but it certainly will keep youv entertained. In fact, I’m sure anyone would enjoy it.

The consistant activity on stage keeps you watching for who’s going to do what next. While performing each member seems to be doing entirely his own thing, but the resulting sound is beautiful together.

Their closing number “Maria” from “West Side Story”, is done entirely without instrumental accompanyment. The sublime five part harmony is truly inspiring as was the entire performance.

“I’m A Man” provided a substantial opener for Spencer Davis and the rest of the set kept up more l of the same good vibrations. Their selections showed their talent for diversity ranging from heavy blues (Setting Here Thinking) to pure country (I washed My Hands in Muddy Water).

The group may go by the same Spencer Davis, but the real focal point of their sound and performance is lead guitarist; -Ray Fenwick. His ingenuity, dexterity and versatility were prominent throughout his fine performance. The set was a series of triumphs-for him augmented by a moderately tight backing from Spencer, the bass player and the drummer.

What little crowd there was, was knocked out by a creative addition to “Gimmie Some Lovin”, the closing number. This consisted of riffs from the Cream’s “Politician”, the Beatles “Day Tripper”, “Paperback Writer” & “Nowhere Man” and the Beach Boys’ “Fun, Fun, Fun” and “Barbara Ann”, all of which were expertly handled. Really outasite. Thanks Spencer.

Pam Brent

Randy Newman

Randy Newman, whom you may have read about in “Eye” or “Crawdaddy!”, had one of the three best albums of last year, and no one bought it. The Band’s album sold, and Dylan’s album sold (they being my other two choices, with The Mothers’ “Ruben” thrown in as a treat), and deservedly so, But not Randy.

For, you see, Randy has an image problem. He isn’t a freak. Worse, he doesn’t LOOK like a freak. After all, with even Jay & The Americans wearing long hair and bellbottoms, you’d think everyone had gotton the message. But not Newman. Sad.

For Image sells records. Bad press? No problem. Bad material? Don’t worry; maybe you’ll start a fad, like InAGoddaDaVida. But bad image? You’re dead. Even if big names do your material.

So Reprise has put a new cover on Randy Newman’s album; a picture resembling Buddy Holly in horn rims. That won’t help his image, either. C’mon, Reprise, how about some payola to those program managers so that people can hear “Beehive State” and “I Think He’s Hiding” and “Laughing Boy” for themselves?

-Bob Tremain