Northern California Spotlight: The Chosen Few - Nobody But Me/I Think It's Time

We have a lovely double sided gem to lead off the Northern California region of the Flip-Side's epic Battle of the Garage Bands. Everything above the straight line that creates the north border of San Luis Obispo County across Kern County and San Bernardino County gets counted as Northern Cal.

The Chosen Few hailed from Stockton, California and the band was led by a gentleman named Gary Wagner. They recorded only this one single. The A-Side is the Gary Wagner penned I Think It's Time. The Flip-Side is another Wagner composition, Nobody But Me. Both sides are fantastic and worthy of a little digital praise from us. But we don't know too much about it. The effort was released in August of 1965 and featured none other than a very young Sly Stone (aka Sylvester Stewart) sitting at the production board.

The flip-side, Nobody But Me is a tough blues based rocker with wailing harmonica, gravely vocals and some buzzing bass pounding away that reminds this listener of the early work of Captain Beefheart. Guttural and powerful while still melodic and danceable. 

The A-Side, I Think It's Time, is a brief little 1:47 number that shows a playfulness the transcends much of the teen scene rock of the era. This Gary Wagner dude clearly knew his stuff. The guitar lead and harmonica interplay is wonderful. Though a little to understand, I dig the lyrics too. 

But it's alright
I got the money buried in the back yard
I dig it up
I live it up 

You got to laugh before you cry
Live before you die
I think it's time

Gary Wagner went on to release an album in 1970 under the name Parish Hall. I've seen his name connected to another largely unknown band from San Francisco called The Grateful Dead. What that connection is I don't know, and with all things GD, I started to try to figure out the connection and then got so bored I quit. If you know any more about Gary Wagner, please let us know. We dig his work.

Song of the Week: Bobby Freeman - C'mon and Swim

Bobby Freeman was a San Francisco soul singer who scored a hit right out of the gate in 1958 with his oft-covered Do You Want To Dance? Freeman jumped around on various labels and worked the San Francisco club circuits as he settled into a standing residency at San Francisco's The Condor Night Club where he performed in support of the infamous topless dancer, Carol Doda, known affectionately as "The Twin Peaks of San Francisco."

In 1963 some well played publicity by Doda brought new clients into The Condor Night Club. That also brought Bobby Freeman a plethora of new fans as patrons took notice of the guy that sang the songs to which Ms. Doda would dance. One of those new admirers was a young musician and producer whom had recently been tasked to help start a local record label. That label was the brief lived Autumn Records and the producer was a 20 year old kid named Sylvester Stewart. He would eventually change his name to Sly Stone and, well, you know the rest.

Bobby Freeman became both Sly Stone's and Autumn's first recording artist. Today we spin the June 1964 release from Bobby Freeman, the regional hit, C'mon And Swim. It was Autumn's second release and it features Sly Stone as composer, producer and, on this single release version, grooving it on organ.

Song of the Week: "Deep Water", The Beau Brummels

Listen - The Beau Brummels perform Deep Water

The Beau Brummels. I'm not sure what to make of them. Thanks to Rhino Records' reissues in the early 80s, this was one of the first 60s bands that grabbed my attention. The other two being Love and the Yardbirds. But unlike Love and The Yardbirds, I don't spin a Beau Brummels song with great frequency. Whenever I do, I always think to myself, I need to play these guys more. Well, dang it, that's what we're doing today.

The Beau Brummels were the first band to come out of San Francisco in the Beatles Mania era and did so with a huge bang. Their first single on Autumn Records was a number called Laugh, Laugh which went to No. 15 in the US charts in December of '64. They even "performed" the song on The Flintstones. They followed that up with yet another solid hit, and an even better song, Just A Little in early '65. That song peaked at an impressive No. 8. Both songs written by guitarist, Ron Elliot and both produced by a young Sly Stone.

Then, as is a common story for bands of the mid-60s that weren't called The Beatles or the Rolling Stones, The Beau Brummels began their steady decline into obscurity. That's not to say the songs declined in quality. They didn't. A switch to a new label that tried to turn them into a cover band, loss of band members to the Vietnam War, a band leader who was forced by diabetes to stop touring and the general direction of Elliot's compositions into more introspective, less pop-oriented music all led to the band becoming little more than a "where are they now" band even as they put out their best work.

In 1968, the band, now just Elliot and gifted vocalist Sal Valentino, traveled to Nashville to record what would be there final album, Bradley's Barn. It's a very good album and the standout track, in this writer's opinion, is today's SOTW: Deep Water. It's a beautifully produced song with some of Nashville's top session men (including Jerry Reed) laying down some tasty work on the Dobro, the Vibes and other untraditional pop instruments.

Enjoy.