Joy of Cookin’ Berkeley Barefootin’

Joy of Cookin’

Berkeley Barefootin’

You can always blame it on the Bossa Nova.

by Robbie Cruger

Where Joy of Cooking come from individually has a lot of bearing on where they are as a group. The significance is not only in their well-integrated differences but in the basic similarities perhaps most people drawn to music have in common. In addition, Joy was drawn and fused by the magnetic force of Berkeley. Aptly representing this milieu, they certainly deserve their reputation as “A Berkeley Band.”

Terry’s Berkeley born and bred. She is still living there in a home behind a Porsche and a barrage of bushes in a closely-knit neighborhood where “Another Family For Peace” can be viewed on nearly every stainglassed frontroom window. Berkeley contains all the elements expected from a Californian collegetown — youth oriented, politically involved, musically absorbed, that hang-loose feeling. The comfortable atmosphere, conducive to a certain kind of mellow music making, has given birth to several accommodating clubs providing an outlet for both dancers and performers. Naturally, Terry’s musical interests were spurred by this very environment. A suitable setting for her story.

There are two different facets, vocal and guitar, that have merged and developed along with her origins in scat singing, jazz and Odetta-type folk music. Describing the humble beginnings of her career also reveals the making of the band. “There’s been a folk scene in Berkeley for many, many years. Both Toni and I were in it, playing at opposite ends of the city. We got together through a mutual friend, a Berkeley folkie . . . oh, then there was Bob Cooper, this fellow who wanted to start a band, something like a new Beatles. He’d say ‘It doesn’t matter what key you play in, just play.’ I guess that’s when we independently decided we didn’t need these other musicians.”

Toni Brown, the keyboard player in Joy of Cooking has written most of the group’s material. “I came to San Francisco in 1960, interested in the North Beach writers scene. Well, I never met any writers but met plenty of musicians. I’d left Boston (she brought along a Bennington BA in Creative Writing) when the Cambridge scene was starting. Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and The Weavers were doing their bit. But there was nothing happening for me. No one sang Hank Williams songs and that’s what I liked. From the time I was little I’d listen to WWVA at 2:00 am cause the reception was so good. My stepfather, who’d spent time on a ranch out West, sang cowboy songs to me at night when I was 5 and 6. I’d play the hell out of his Jimmy Rogers 78’s and some old jazz and blues. My first idol, Georgia May, was this fantastic singer with an incredible triple yodel who’d do fifteen live minutes on the radio in the morning. I couldn’t wait to wake up.

“. . . this fantastic singer with an incredible triple yodel . . ."

“There were very few people out East listening to this “hick” stuff. When I came out here suddenly there were all these people doing it. Folk music meant Lightnin’ Hopkins and I got a real musical education.”

The two teamed up recognizing the inescapable balance and blend they still achieve. Terry explained the next phase of the saga. “Toni was playing strictly country stuff with a group called The Crabgrassers, so we seemed to work well. I’d sing background on country numbers and she’d sing background on jazz, which I’ve been into since high school. This was around 1966 or 67. She asked Ron Wilson, whom she’d met at parties, to join us. He brought a conga, tom-tom and cymbal and we played around for several months along with my brother, David, who played bass. We were doing some of the same material we do now.”

Liberation music, if you like, but shouldn’t music be liberating? ;v

“I’d given up drumming for four years,” Ron explained. “I was disgusted with the profession — there was no livelihood. I’m surprised now cause I was still so fascinated, but then I gave up classical piano too.” Ron’s initial interest in congas can be attributed to his native San Diego, just tip toes away from the Mexican border. “In 1955 after the army . I was body surfing on San Diego beaches playing bongos with beatniks. My first big influence was Harry Belefonte.

“I met this guy who had a set of congas but didn’t know how to play them and we went to this terrific Cal Tjader concert determined to corner the conga drummer and have him show us what that was he did with his hands to make those sounds. Backstage, we didn’t see the band but heard this amazing sound coming from the womens’ restroom. We went in and there were all these heavy Cuban cats playing music and well, after that I started taking lessons from one of their friends down in Tijuana.”

His major in Poli Sci/Latin American Studies, also a Spanish influence, lead to his emigration to Berkeley which looks better to those interested in politics. Like Terry’s Sociology BA, a product of the socially distraught Berkeley mecca with its academic inclinations, they seem to reflect J of C’s general feelings, their group’s basic attitude toward, in a broad sense, injustice. After all, they are associated with one of the politically vanguard cities. “Berkeley is freer because of the people and the people make the politics,” Toni wound it up. Joy of Cooking’s politics, however, are expressed through the music. Those two scenes (political and musical) are close, one often relying on the other for moral (and financial) support. Joy limit their participation to playing benefits and embrace certain philosophies through lyrics. This role is essential not only cause it’s difficult to coordinate five different opinions on specific issues, but they object to making extreme statements on the grounds that their position as musicians is not to take stands. Concentrating on establishing a certain viewpoint narrows the identifying audience by pigeon-holing them. They’d be saying what their listeners already believe, amounting to little more than back patting. It doesn’t work because the result is ineffective: songs used merely as political forums don’t change anything.

Joy choose a more viable and mobile means: influential entertainment. Like Bob Hope’s Special is beneficial to his cause. Primarily, Joy of Cooking are intent on playing music — Liberation Music, if you like, but shouldn’t music be liberating?

With a keen eye for their public’s desires indicated even in the nucleusgroup days, Terry unfolded their growth: “We weren’t quite ready, but we wanted to start playing for dancing audiences. We tried a couple drummers — they were too limited to r‘n’r rhythms.”

In his dry, serious voice Fritz Kasten laconically described his entrance: “After a point, they added drums.” Not quite that simplistic (nor is his playing): Fritz, Joy’s present drummer, intercepted a phone call from David Garthwaite, gave up a job with a danceband on Fisherman’s Wharf and. was pleased with the outcome. “I was looking to get into rock and roll. I had worked with Vince Guaraldi, Big Brother and the Holding Co., Sopwith Camel, in a band that played on a boat going to Asia and lotsa hotels. It also intrigued me that there were two women in the band.”

Now full fledged, the group began acquiring gigs at bars and dances quickly gaining a growing, receptive following in Berkeley. The time to turn electric in order to be heard had arrived. Like Bob Dylan leaving his acoustic guitar to reach a broader audience, the increased volume was less limiting and proved an important steppingstone. Significantly, none of the members had any previous experience with electric or rock and roll music in the strictest terms. Individually, the members were more influenced by jazz musicians and vocalists, still flowing in that direction as much as possible. The higher wattage meant learning a new method.

They were asked to perform at People’s Park, a job they speak of proudly despite its failings. This is definitely the time Joy of Cooking got off its feet but not precisely when the band started jamming, as commonly believed. “Those were carefully structured jams” points out Fritz. “But suddenly everything blew up due to a mismatch of current and all the equipment was playing through one Standell bass amp.”

“Then there was this idiot roomate of mine, Jay the Jeweller, who was setting up machine guns at patrolling National Guardsmen, across from the Park. I moved out shortly after,” Ron added ruefully. The crowd still got off (or got it on) — the real story of their life! The audience is an extension of the band; without them Joy’s purpose is defeated. Depending on the reception, working together can mean a merging communication or nothing.

More tunes were being written and arranged and with five different welldeveloped backgrounds to draw on the band improved musically beyond their expectations. They built up a strong following — particularly Mandrakes regulars, a club they played steadily. Like the MC5 and Detroit, J. Geils and Boston it was the confidence the home crowd gave them, the special relationship with their audience in Berkeley, that they sought a record company.

But Joy of Cooking wouldn’t settle for being told what to do. They wanted major control of their album and sought the necessary information. ED Denson, their business manager, turned down unsatisfactory offers and in the duration of a year presented Capitol with a revised contract three times. The group feels it’s necessary to participate in what’s happening at the business end instead of “letting yourself be eaten alive whole someone alledgedly acts in your interest” as Toni Brown put it. Not many groups have this consciousness and others are so paranoid because of previous gullibility that besides the obvious drawbacks in intervention, the best solution is having a manager they can trust.

Take ED Denson, Berkeley’s own creative-enterprise entepreneur, who has built up a reputation (working with Country Joe McDonald, Mark Spoelstra, Lobo Films and a host of other groups from the city) of having amiable relationships with all those he manages, devoting extensive time and energy to each project successfully. The band’s involvement even reaches into deciding, to an extent, what jobs they play. They don’t always accept money work. Among the reject list are decent exposure shows such as American Bandstand, Virginia Graham and Disneyland.

“The kind of gig we do affects what we play,” Terry elaborated. Take for instance, the job they did last year after their first release in January — a junior prom at the Fairmont Hotel. In another room, weekending business bounced to the kind of tuxeoed band that used to play proms — those 10 piece orchestras that knew “Auld Lang Syne” and “I Left My Heart . . .” During a break, bassist Jeff Neighbor was drawn to the strains of “Downtown,” surprised to discover his Mandrakes favorites. (I suspect the two bands should have exchanged audiences.) After some enjoyable bossa nova/jazz jams with Fritz Kasten, Jeff joined Joy. “I was playing all sorts of stuff, 2-beat, like “Brownsville”, interesting things that blend in with this band. My interest individually seems to be part of what the whole feeling of the band is. It’s been musically opening for me,” he says of his incorporation. With a diverse history of experiences from a Cal-Music education in composition and theory to Dixieland and choirs, an interest in soul music and what he calls his perverse love of The Four Freshman, Jeff replaced David (who, ten years younger than the other members, had a pretty limited background by comparison).

An instigator of bottle smashing, sweating, dancecrazed audiences.

I wondered how the age difference might affect their audience. Transcending any categorizations such as rock and roll because of the various elements included in their sound, Joy of Cooking encompassed a broad, perhaps undefinable, public.

This can indicate problems. Toni probably feels it most directly because of the songs she writes. “I write about personal experiences mostly. And I don’t know if 15 year olds can emotionally relate to living in a trailor camp and having babies.” Yet the fact that they are in their thirties doesn’t really have an alienating effect on the potential audience. In fact, someone once said to them, “Now I know there’s hope for me.” Since a listener’s response is to the musical content mostly (I mean, words don’t make you dance), Joy’s ageless visceral level and superlative quality can’t be denied.

Now that they’ve introduced themselves, opening up those deep dark secrets which, usually overlooked, present a more lucid picture of who Joy of Cooking are, what they are can be examined. Collectively speaking, what they are is an aspect that’s been revealed to me over a period of time — not in an afternoon of cordial conversation.

“Everybody Get On Your Feet”

Admittingly, I was a moderately slow J of C convert because their approach doesn’t rely on gimmickery, doesn’t come on with any particularly smashing impact. I kept discovering songs with every playing, lyrically and musically, until the totality of each number grabbed me.

Last summer I saw them at Mandrakes; the performance only increased my growing enthusiasm. I don’t frequent bars much and with the crowded conditions in ballrooms I probably hadn’t really danced since high school hops. It wasn’t long into the set before I was “shakin’ it. out on the dancefloor” among the massive, vibra-, ting crowd. It made me nervous to be in my seat.

On stage, Joy of Cooking create fine fine music, their low-keyed manner making it seem effortless. They do expend a considerable amount of energy and exchange it among themselves generating an intense response from their audience. Not quite a hard-driving, power-packed result, but containing a surging, pointed building effect Tthe crucial catalyst, an instigator of bottle smashing, sweating, dance-crazed audiences

There's a release that must come when hearing Joy’s emphatic rhythmic interplay and various pulsating, syncopated drumbeats. An intense response is inescapable. I suppose The Who made it unnecessary to react violently, onlookers vicariously reacting through the group’s own destructive antics. The groups which followed set the way for pure passivity. Most musicians respond simply through their music, the instrument the tool. But certain music does call for active participation from both sides of the stage. Joy of Cooking definitely do this, consciously.

Honest musicians are sensitive to their audience, attempting to create a genuine rapport. Like artists who depend on others to share their work, a sincere obligation is involved — they owe the public more than the honor of seeing their names in lights or in print. The value of their attempt is perhaps a relative judgement made according to personal taste but a band that moves (depending on specific purpose — physically and/or emotionally) an audience has succeeded in reaching them. Why put large amounts of energy only to view downed-out zombies or ambivalent socialites — on either side of the stage?

Because, the structure of Joy of Cooking’s music is based on the absolute enjoyment of musical elements, which are involving to the boiling point, they expect their audience* to follow their, advice: “You’ve gotta move — Closer to the Ground”. This is achieved by spacing thinly textured arrangements culminating in instrumental/vocal buildups, a kind of slow motion explosion. While not solo-oriented, this formula does provide plenty of room for showcasing everyone’s talents. Each member is conscientious, allowing openings for the others to express themselves or, more accurately, to find their musical expression. Incorporated into the songs’ sche,mes, this back-up conception fosters further development in each band member. Hardly excluding the listener, but inviting him to join and play. Fritz defines their audience: “Anyone who gets off on us.”

A vivid example of Joy of Cooking’s style is exhibited in “Did You Go Downtown?” the reincarnation of the Jaynettes “Sally Go Round The Roses” (not Slick’s sloppy version — no, Joy aren’t Grace and Janis backed by Santana). It conveys the same treatment — a deliberately gradual beginning, softly turning from improvisatory melodic lines, dropping down to one voice, an intricate building to an exciting climax yet with the spirit of simplicity. “The saddest thing in the whole wide world is to see your baby with another girl” is told on Sally’s terms, from J of C’s perspective: “Did you take a look around? Did you hear the sound? The shout of pain, driving my heart in two — sound of sadness — sound of sorrow, bring me another tomorrow — sound of tears . . . sound of laughter.” You feel that. And that’s the quintessence of this band’s effect.

What happens to the listener? The sound doesn’t come at you (it’s not an oihinous entity, strangely perched ready to pounce upon its anxious victims, but perhaps more insidious) it comes through you and you go to it. Whether you follow a fugue, trail Terry’s wails or regurgitate their pounding rhythms, these sophisticated tribal musicians stir your viscera to the complete delectation of the real joy of cooking. A disciplinary control over the music they create, keeping it a degree from letting go, partially causes that pent up feeling — the need to release tension. Yet in that reserve a loose, flowing feeling is emanated, making it a natural, easy reaction without the need to ’tighten up.’

Their presence on record, although technically more richly refined, unfortunately can’t duplicate the same exuberance as exhibited live. All is not lost: the chance to listen and appreciate those unobtrusive lyrics is an advantage that shouldn’t be overlooked. The words are a significant offering. They voice an optimistic attitude toward love and life and all things dear to us, yet from a unique perspective, not the usual syrupy ploys, spewed out and slurped up by those seeking the archetypal answer. As Joy say, “There ain’t no answers up in the sky.”

Even in a bitter song like “The War You Left” there’s hope imparted — “Loving is a letting go/A wish to let another giow, believing”; so sanguine that any complaint sounds like a realization meant as advice. Lines such as “Sometimes like a river/I can feel you flowing down into my soul” show Toni and Terry’s typical turn of phrase, used in their occasional folk-ballads.

In “Only Time Will Tell Me,” a perfect example of the basic lyric form apparent in most of their material, they address the feelings involved in situations we often find ourselves in. But they not only tell the story, the words articulate the emotional response — a direct analogy to the way they deal with their music.

I used to think a woman was just made to love a man.

A man was someone for a woman to hold on to while she can.

Then one day my man walked off. Oh, you know I got the blues.

I’d been livin off him for so long, I had nothin of my own to lose.

Everybody wants some power in this land of liberty.

Havin’ lots of power never made anybody free.

If power makes you think you’re somebody that you’re not.

Someday you might have to give up everything you’ve got.

It seems to epitomize the lyrical content present in most of their writing, while also showing the complimentary integration of words and music. Terry’s vocals and harmony carry the basic form but expand on it the way the keyboard stretches out a single chord. After this discussion though, the logical conclusion is that Toni and Terri write singalong lyrics, with a flair for intelligent fun.

Combining all these ingredients (parrelled with the members’ variod backgrounds) could create a cluttered conglomerate sound but instead they’re a unified and unique band because the different forces adhere together.

A friend recently remarked on the total committment and excitement of hockey crowds and how he wished more of that reciprocal action was present at rock and roll concerts. Joy of Cooking have, most importantly, defined an aesthetic — a sound of their own, in its own genre. They know what they want and how to get it. Or at least they care about trying. Part of what they need is the participation of an audience that cares. How could music be more personal? I don’t know of a band that approaches people at a more intimate level. J of C comes closest to creating the kind of mood at a hockey game and not because their audience expects it. The question “Are they doing it to us or are we doing it to ourselves?” isn’t considered. It doesn’t need to be.

Even with the progressive changes Joy undergo, which is part of their nature, the music remains consistent. This kind of maturity permeates all their work. The lyrics don’t insult your intelligence and the sound appeals to your sense of celebration. Duty, Discipline arid Direction — the three dimensional concept that underlies Joy of Cooking’s brand of rock and roll. Those 3 D’s lead to success at any level.

It’s just the beginning for Joy of Cooking. They’re writing two movie scores for French director, Agnes Varda, thanks to Jane Fonda and Entertainment for Peace and Justice. Their songs are included in several songbooks (e.g. — The Sierra Survival Songbook and a French one). Hopefully, a recording of a United Farmworkers benefit concert at the Berkeley Community Theatre will soon be an LP capturing their exciting live performance. And a third album on Capitol is due for release this summer, recorded in the relaxed atmosphere of their own waterfront rehearsal hall. I suspect it will not be unlike the last two, with the natural improvement from six months of growth.

When I flew back to Detroit with all these memories of Berkeley packed along, the plane seemed to travel faster than the speed of light. I had this reverie about growing younger and going back to high school dances and neighborhood clubs, remembering The Jerk and then The Twist-further, The Stroll (“It’s been a long time since I rock and rolled.”), The Locomotion and The Bossa Nova. I realized the fourth dimension was, of course, Doing It. And Joy of Cooking do it well.