Southern California Spotlight: The Misunderstood - Children of the Sun/I Unseen

Our fourth entrant in the SoCal Region of the Battle of the Garage Bands is a bit of a misunderstood band. Too often The Misunderstood get tagged as a UK band. But they were not. Yes they recorded their only two singles in the UK. Yes their only two singles were only released in the UK. Yes they had one member of their five piece band that was from the UK. But all the other cats were from Riverside, California. 

Five years ago we wrote extensively about The Misunderstood (specifically the flip-side of their debut single for Fontana, Who Do You Love) and that gained attention from two of the members of the band who, in turn, left great comments. For detailed info we suggest you read that post here. 

We turn today to their second single, Children Of The Sun/I Unseen. The single was recorded in 1966 upon the band's arrival in the UK. However, the record was not released until much later in 1969 when Fontana Records got around to realizing what they had on their hands. 

The A-Side, Children Of The Sun was written by singer Rick Brown and rhythm guitarist Tony Hill. Note that Brown's name is misspelled on the label. There is just so many great things to say about this 100% perfect song that I am left scratching my head as to where to start. I guess I'll start with the wonderful guitar work of Glenn Ross Campbell and his very unique pedal steel guitar riffs that lift this song to unique and brilliant heights. Rick Brown growls away as he and Campbell battle it out and Rick Moe propels the song at break neck speed with his full drumming. Brilliant. 

The flip-side, I Unseen, gives writing credit to Brown and Hill again. But the reality is that the lyrics of a post nuclear haunting are from a poem by Turkish writer, Nazim Hikmet. That aside, I Unseen is as powerful as the A-Side. A blistering lead guitar riff backed by a really nice rhythm laid down by Tony Hill give way to a couple of great music breaks where the whole band just owns the song. And bassist Steve Whiting is never forgotten as he has laid down some of the best bass work of anybody to ever record on a rock record in the 60s.

Until next time, we'll see you On The Flip-Side!

The Lords - Don't Mince Matter/No One Knows

Don't Mince Matter

No One Knows

Guten Morgen. I first learned of the Berlin-bred, Düsseldorf-based band, The Lords, from a 1980s era Ugly Things article about the Germanic Hep-cats. I was a little taken aback by the pictures of them in silly outfits and dorky Prince Valiant haircuts. But publisher Mike Stax raved about their work. Or at least, that's how I recall it. Then I happened to run across this German pressed Columbia Records single in a record store on K Street in Sacramento, CA. WTF?!?!! How did it get there? I picked it up for about $2 and fell in love. Now I understood why Stax had his lederhosen in a bunch. It's fabulous. In a quirky cold war era West German way. The single was recorded at the Electrola Studios on August 3rd, 1966 in the town of Köln (aka Cologne) at 149 Maarweg Street. The band at the time was Ulli Günther on vocals, Bernd Zamulo on bass, Leo Leitz on guitar, Rainer Petry on guitar, and Max Donath on drums. I get excited just typing those names. Just imagine how excited I am to hear the record. 

Don't Mince Matter is the A-Side and it is fabulous. The number was written by lead guitarist and the blond heart-throb of North-Rhine Westphalia, Leo Leitz. Brilliant. Such a unique sound -  from the guitar running through the swirling Leslie Speaker to the thick as sauerbraten accent. To the highly compressed high hat pounding away to the unique Burns Bass roto-string sound. But, "Don't Mince Matter"? What the hell does that mean? What do any of these lyrics mean? Can anyone make out these lyrics? It's like they cut out a bunch of words from the Webster's English Dictionary, put them into a green felt alpine hat, shook it up, laid all the words down in random order and made a non-sensical song out of the words they found. 

And if the joke is good
but I can smile and would
Well I can dream of flying
must be that me this time
If you can be my girl
I wonder, what, what you mean girl
Tell me, my girl
Tell me, my girl
Baby crack a joke, but don't mince matter (x3)
Baby crack a joke, but I'm not sure.

No One Knows gets the Flip-Side of the single. Maybe the title of the song was a rejoinder to the quizzical lyrics of the A-Side. Could be! The number was written by some cats names Geitz and Michael. It still has the kick ass instrumentation - replete with their rented Leslie Speaker system --  but the lyrics make a little more sense. It's damn near as good as the A-Side. Enjoy both. Also enjoy the video below of them doing the traditional British folk song Greensleeves and the American blues song by John Lee Hooker, Boom Boom (irony, anyone?).

Until next time, we'll see you on das Flip-Side!

Song of the Week: The Creatures - Ugly Thing

We're winding down our Down Under focus this week and we feature, by request from Jack Hayden, The Creatures doing their RCA Records release from 1967, Ugly Thing. It's the song that inspired the Raven Records collection of Aussie bands and the now 30 year old fanzine on crazed and depraved records, Ugly Things, run by Mike Stax.

The Creatures hailed from Mildura, a rural town in Victoria. The band was centered around three brothers, Herman Marcic on bass, Eric Marcic on guitar and Rudolph Marcic on drums. Greg Lawrie was also on guitar and Keith Matcham on vocals. Matcham and Lawrie are the composers of Ugly Thing, a song about, well, I'm not too sure. Mostly because I have no idea what Keith Matcham is saying at the beginning of the song. Or for most of the song, for that matter. But it still sounds cool.

The Creatures, as you can see from the picture below, liked to dye their hair various different colors. Truly some Ugly Things. 

Until next time, we'll see you On The Flip-Side!

Song of the Week: The Elois - By My Side

Back for more Aussie love. Today we feature this writer's favorite Aussie Beat song ever.

A friend of mine once asked why I collected 45s more aggressively than I collected LPs. It was a fair enough question to be posed in the '80s when bands made "albums". This week's Song of the Week is my two minute and 5 second answer.

Many, many great records of the late '50s and early '60s were made by local bands that produced only one or two 45s. These bands didn't make LPs. Heck, many of them didn't even have real record labels let alone distribution deals. These records might be pressed locally in lots of 250, 500, or maybe as many as 1,000, if the bass player had a daddy who owned a local car dealership and thus had some money. The records were then often sold to their fellow high school classmates by the band themselves at their weekend Battle of the Band shows. Or maybe that supportive dad might give a disc away with each new car purchased. Most sat unclaimed in a box in dad's garage where the band practiced on Saturday afternoon and stashed some warm beer behind the drill bits.

One of the great things about this do-it-yourself recording culture was that it removed the record executives (aka, "the weenies") from the mix. These bands didn't realistically think about making it big or touring with the Beatles. They went in to the studio (usually a radio station) with one thing on their mind: "If we cut a real good record we might just get to second base with those girls from the next town. You know, the ones who drive over here in that black Lincoln Continental and are always sneaking Schlitz into the dances." As you might imagine, these bands recorded whatever they wanted without any editorial control from the weenies. More often than not the results were pretty bad.  The A-side of the single often sucked raw eggs as it was all too often some lame cover of a slow ballad that maybe a band like Gerry and the Pacemakers just had a hit with. It's the song that got all the girls slow dancing at the hop. And the drummer's mom always liked that song most as they would rehearse in the uninsulated garage. But every once in a while, squirreled away on the flip-side, was some bizarre creation of a song the band wrote just last week. You know, "the one that is kinda like that Yardbirds record with all that feedback in it." These little creations were often enough brilliant. A depraved record that can only come out of the collective minds of uncontrolled teenagers with one thing on their mind.

This week we explore one of these one-shot local bands and celebrate their own depraved composition. The band is from the small town of Ballarat in Victoria, Australia (about a 90 minute drive from Melbourne). The short-haired, well dressed lads call themselves The Elois after the "tranquil sunshine people" from H.G. Wells' Time Machine. Some time in 1966 our lads travel to the big city of Melbourne and cut their one and only record at the Bill Armstrong Studio. The A-side is a Who inspired cover of Bo Diddley's oft-covered I'm A Man. It's okay, but it's been done. But the real gem was to be found on the flip-side. It's a self-penned explosion of rage detailing a young man's uncontrollable hormonal yearnings for the satisfaction of a young woman. It's the song mom said she didn't like. The one the band wouldn't rehearse if mom was in the house baking cookies. The boys from Ballarat call it By My Side, and, I do not say this lightly, it is one of the greatest songs ever dedicated to wax. Seriously.

The song stands in stark contrast to the image of the clean-cut, small town quartet. Opening with a shot of adrenaline-infused feedback in the key of E, the drummer starts his cymbal intro with a rapid 4/4 beat. The front and center bass enters with a slide from B up the neck until it lands into a killer riff in the key of E. The guitar joins the bassist in the machine-gun riff and together they modify the riff as quick as it starts. The singer menacingly growls out: "Said I need you girl by my side" as the backup singers presage various aspects of the repeated lyrics. Then something funny happens at just :32 into the song. The wicked little 4/4 beat ends as quickly as it began. The drummer drops the band into a catchy bomp-chee-----bomp-bomp-chee 2/4 beat. At this point you can literally hear the drum kit squeak under the pounding it takes from the drummer. The bass adds a loping "vroom" of a slide that morphs just as quickly into a nice little walk. The guitarist falls back as he punctuates the instrumentation. And then our primordial singer and the possessed backup singers return with lyrics of bravado as they let us know that their girls keeps them satisfied. And then, just as quick as we went into a 2/4, without warning we are back into a 4/4 beat as the guitarist launches into a feedback heavy lead that would make even Jeff Beck and Pete Townshend envious. Our singer barks out his final words to his muse, "I can't get enough of you girl." And then, just like the frustrated teenager himself, only a little more than two minutes after the romance starts, it's over. Just like that. The only thing you can do is sneak out for a smoke, take a few minutes and then start it all over again.

Our boys would soon return to the small town of Ballarat Shepperton and try to sell their record. They probably told mom not to listen to the flip-side. Truth be told, most people didn't hear either side of the record and the group soon disbanded to go about their lives in University or in the military. Their recording didn't get a breath of attention until 1980 when a Melbourne record collector compiled a bunch of his favorite forgotten singles from unheralded local bands dating between 1964-1967 and released them on an album called Ugly Things. I picked that record up at a Tower records in San Francisco circa 1983. Somewhere towards the middle of side one was this 125 second gem. I hope you enjoy it 1/1000th as much as I do.

Song of the Week: The Moods - Rum Drunk

Day four of our Down Under journey takes us to the hep-cat town of Melbourne, Australia. In 1966, five high school lads who called themselves The Moods recorded a composition from their guitarist, John Livi. The song is the sublime Rum Drunk. While the number may not share the manic punk angst of yesterday's song, the frantic pounding of By My Side or the undeniable toe-tapping of Friday On My Mind, I'll put this number squarely in the top 5 of all Aussie Beat songs. That's how much I love this song with it's incessant Duane Eddy guitar riff, mouse vocals and generous dose of reverb. 

Until next time, we'll see you On The Flip-Side! 

Song of the Week: The Music Machine - No Girl Gonna Cry

Sean Bonniwell passed away two weeks ago after a battle with lung cancer. Sean Bonniwell is one of those guys who made great, inventive and forward thinking music. And like fellow Angelenos Arthur Lee and Emitt Rhodes, the quality of his music didn't necessarily translate into sales or fame. Sean Bonniwell did pen a certified hit for his group, The Music Machine. The song was the great Talk Talk (see vid below). But he, and the rest of the band put out really good quality music that regularly equaled or even surpassed the high standard of Talk Talk.

I never had the opportunity to meet Sean Bonniwell but I knew many people who did. The dark lyrics, black clothing (and one black glove) and gruff exterior apparently stood in contradiction to the nice and engaging personality that was the true character of Sean Bonniwell. I first became aware of the Music Machine in about 1984 when Rhino Records put out a retrospective of the band. I was immediately drawn to the music and the look. About the same time I came across Mike Stax's second issue of Ugly Things fanzine which featured an interview with Bonniwell. Stax's interview showed a man who loved crafting music and loved exploring new ideas both musically and lyrically. The scooping up of "everything Music Machine" was now my personal ambition.

Learning as many as the songs as I could figure out with my then limited ear was an obsession. Thankfully, the Ugly Things issue shown above even came with sheet music! These were not your run of the mill 1960s garage songs. These were well crafted tunes with introspective lyrics and difficult to learn music.

Our Song of the Week understandably celebrates the music of Sean Bonniwell. The song I chose is one that failed to find release during the lifetime of the the Music Machine. I did so to show how good they were. If a song this good didn't make the cut, then you know how good the other stuff is. The song is No Girl Gonna Cry and it first came into my playlist around 1986 or '87 when a German traveler some how talked his way into crashing on my living room floor while he worked on a fanzine. While in California he found his way to Sean Bonniwell and came back with a tape of unreleased songs, demos and alt. versions of Music Machine songs. I recall a stunning, live, in-studio version of The Eagle Never Hunts The Fly filled with different lyrics and the occasional mistake. It showed how strong the band was. The tape was a gift to this kid from an appreciative Sean Bonniwell. That German cat put out his fanzine, called Splendid, and in it he included a flexi-disc of two unreleased Music Machine songs. You are now listening to a digitization of one of those songs from that flexi-disc. The song did finally see a wider release in the late 90's, but I prefer you listen to that plastic flex version.

RIP Sean Bonniwell

Song of the Week: The Misunderstood - Who Do You Love?

[Editors note: This post has been revised to correct some misinformation in the original post. Clarification on a few points were given by Steve Whiting, bassist for The Misunderstood. He has provided a wealth of information in the comment section below. We Flipsters hope you'll take time to read his illuminating comments.]

If ever a band was appropriately named, it was London, England's, no, I mean Riverside California's The Misunderstood. The band only put out enough singles that you could count them on one hand. And they were only released in the UK. But what singles they are!

The Misunderstood hailed from Riverside, California where they plugged away in southern California clubs with great anonymity. That's when British radio host, John Peel happened into an outdoor performance at the Riverside Mall at which our heroes-of-the-week were performing. (Discerning readers of On The Flip-Side may recall that John Peel has a direct connection to one of our favorite self-penned articles...which can be found here). Peel knew that something great lurked just beneath the surface and convinced the boys to make the trip to London where he would represent them. In a must read of Ugly Things magazine that chronicles, with great detail, the misunderstood story of The Misunderstood, the music fan is left with that all too familiar lament of "what could have been?". Poverty, broken promises, the Vietnam draft, work permit issues, drug use and a general haze of bad luck, left The Misunderstood failing to live up to their true potential.

Not long after the boys landed in the UK, rhythm guitarist, Greg Treadway, heard the potential door knock of the draft and, coupled with the memory of a girlfriend left behind, headed back to the US. Into the void steps British guitarist, Tony Hill. Hill and the Yanks only record 7 songs together. Four of them produced as singles for Fontana Records. Those were: Children of the Sun/I Unseen and I Can Take You To The Sun/Who Do You Love? It is no understatement that all output in London are of thee highest quality. Each song is better than the last one to which you just listened and each demonstrates great songwriting ability, musicianship and singing. Our song of the week is the startlingly original cover of Bo Diddley's Who Do You Love?

The Misunderstood's massive re-imagining of Who Do You Love opens with a descending riff played by bassist Steve Whiting while lead guitarist Glenn Campbell (no, not that Glen Campbell) plays a gentle ambient riff on his pedal steel. He is then joined by guitarist Tony Hill just before the band explodes into the first verse. Campbell's virtuosity on the pedal steel is at play throughout the entire song, but nowhere better than when the band dials it down during the musical interlude and Campbell's slide guitar work interfaces beautifully with Hill's chordal fills. As he did on all songs the band recorded, bassist Steve Whiting drops some amazing bass lines that give the song a beautifully articulated bottom (regular readers know that here at Flip-Side's Rocky Mountain HQ, we love well articulated bottoms!). Drummer Rick Moe controls the band's manic energy that vacillates between the tranquil and the violent. And then, not to be outdone, there was the growl of singer Rick Brown who had the chops to front a band of such dynamic quality. If you ever get a chance to hear him belt it out in Find The Hidden Door, then you know what I'm talking about. The highlight of the song, for this flipster, is at the end of the verse directly following the music break [at 1:44]. That's when Rick Brown and Glen Campbell "duet" on the line, "Now tell me, who do you love?". Those three seconds of vocals and slide guitar float together in the dark, open void of the song like a ship sailing off the end of the world.

In the end, it was the end. The band dispersed into the sunset, riding their own ways. Glen Campbell went back to Riverside where he kept busy in the music biz. Others found their way towards spiritual quests high in the Tibetan mountains. Others found themselves in the Navy stationed in Alaska (presumably he could see Russia from his front door). All in all, they went about life.

For a great, must read article on the band, I strongly suggest you take a look at Mike Stax's definitive work in Ugly Things #21 from 2003 and even plunk down a few dollars on The Misunderstood's Lost Acetates CD or LP available from UT.

Last, it kills me that this band gets tagged as a British band (I'm talking to you Rhino Records!). This band is from California, with a great musician in Tony Hill hailing from the UK. Just clearing up some misunderstandings of The Misunderstood (with a little help from Steve Whiting and Mike Stax).

Enjoy.

Video Diary: The Black Diamonds, "I want, need, love you"

Song of the Week: "Inside-Looking Out", The Animals

{right click here to listen to the song in another window while you read this article}

The last Song of the Week for the decade! And without doubt or hesitation or even a semblance of second guessing, I can tell you emphatically that our SOTW, this week, is my favorite Animals song ever. It is, I dare say, a perfect song. The song is called Inside-Looking Out and was recorded for Decca Records in 1966.

Let me tell you how I came to this song. Back in my high school days (or more likely shortly thereafter) in the 80s, I went out to a party with some of my lesser quality friends. The party was a dud and I sat in the living room with my mates picking through our hosts' father's records. As was always the case back then, it was a repository of 60's dinosaurs, and a few faded 70's soft rock records. I don't really recall, but he probably had the typical crappy Herb Alpert albums (though I always linger of the Whip Cream and Other Delights album cover) and the Herman and the Hermits dung heaps. But one could usually still find a good album like a Ray Charles or The Beatles Rubber Soul album. On this particular night, we ran across the US pressing of The Animals' Animalization album. I'm sure that in our always diplomatic way, we yanked off a Duran Duran or Howard Jones album and stuck this on. Just what the teens of the 80's wanted to listen to, right? Well, skip ahead a few hours and this album somehow ended up in the car with us as a newly adopted record. Liberated from it's lesser cousins in this forgotten stack and given a rebirth on a Marantz turntable just a few short blocks away. At home I was able to understand just how damn good this record was. Don't Bring Me Down and See See Rider as the first listen stand-outs. About the same time I picked up my newest issue of Ugly Things, the Mike Stax published fanzine. This would have been something like issue No. 3. In the back, Stax had a Top 10 list of songs that he was digging. One of them was...Inside-looking Out. So I put it on and gave it another listen. Who doggie. That is one hot number.

Inside-Looking Out was recorded as a stunning double sided single in the UK (the uber cool Outcast is the flip-side) and appeared in the US on Animalization and as a single where it flopped like New Coke. It's one of the last recordings with original drummer John Steel and well after band leader and organ player phenom Alan Price had left the band to be replaced by Dave Rowberry. The song was written by the Lomax brothers with Eric Burdon and bassist Chas Chandler. It tells the tale of an incarcerated man who keeps his will to live by dreaming of the day he will be released and, like the record I had in my hand, given a rebirth to live again.

Ice cold waters running in my brain/and they drag me back to work again. Pains and blisters on my minds and my hands. From living daily with those canvas bags/thoughts of freedom they're driving me wild/and I'll be happy like a new born child. We'll be together, girl, you wait and see/no more walls keep your love from me.

Besides Eric Burdon's beautiful pained performance, the song is driven by Chandler's powerfully melodic Gibson EB-2D bass and Hilton Valentine's stabbing guitar work.

It's getting louder. Can't you hear it? I'll be home soon. Whoa!

Song of the Week: The Tell-Tale Hearts -- Crawling Back To Me

For a brief blip in time, in a miniscule circle inside a small corner of the world, you would have thought 1985 was 1966. Some marketers called it the Paisley Underground. Those living it just called it "the scene". Whatever "it" was, it was a music, culture and style movement that stiff-armed the hair metal/MTV culture of the 80's and embraced -- with startling revisionist accuracy -- a mythical 60's culture.

But not in the peace, love and understanding way. In this 60's culture, there were no crappy bands like Gerry and the Pacemakers or The Union Gap. There were no flaky hippies dancing with imaginary butterflies or unseen unicorns. There was no Vietnam War or runaway inner-city crime problem or racial tensions. Nope. Instead, this culture was based on a very narrow, idealized sliver of time: 1964 to early 1967 to be exact. In this re-imagined world, bands like The Yardbirds, The Elois, The Mourning Reign and The Pretty Things won every battle of the bands. And every black eye-liner wearing, hairbangs-sporting, white patent-leather boot and polka-dot dress wearing girl, could drive a stick shift '64 Plymouth Valiant while spouting off intricate knowledge of Cuby + The Blizzards' record catalogue. Pretty ideal.

If there was a true epicenter of this imaginary world it was...wait for it...San Diego, California. Seriously. It came to be, perhaps, because of one Ron Silva and his talented cohorts who created a remarkably high quality, groundbreaking band called The Crawdaddys. But as quickly as they were created, they were disbanded. From those ashes rose many bands including one of the best bands of the worldwide 60's revision movement, The Tell-Tale Hearts. The Hearts were Dave Klowden, Eric Bacher, Ray Brandes, Mike Stax and Bill Calhoun. Stax had been a member of the Crawdaddys and published a kick-ass fanzine called Ugly Things out of a small, Grolsch Beer soaked apartment on 1st street in San Diego's Hillcrest neighborhood. (He is still publishing Ugly Things to this day!). Brandes came to the TTH from a stint in the promising band, the Mystery Machine.

In 1984 the Hearts went to Los Angeles to record their first record. Despite a production and engineering bungling that rivaled the work of Custer at the Little Bighorn, and some inappropriate album artwork by Voxx's crack staff artist, The Tell-Tale Hearts walked out with a pretty good album. The quality of their songs survived the production and in some cases thrived despite the production. The best song on that shot heard 'round the world album was the first song, Crawling Back To Me, written by the bands' singer, Ray Brandes. Brandes screams over his manic maraca work, "You've been stealing all my records and my clothes!". (This was an unforgivable infraction back then). Bacher's chop-chop effects-free guitar (I think he was playing a single pickup avocado green Gretsch Anniversary back then) comes to glorious life on his energy raising guitar lead. Calhoun's swirling Vox Continental organ work shines strongest on the time changes. Klowden's floor-tom heavy drum work and Stax's vrooming Harmony H22 bass show why this band had the best rhythm section in town. (dig on that crazy bass work under the guitar leads).

Unlike contemporaries like the Bangles, The Long Ryders or the Three O'Clock, The Tell-Tale Hearts never broke out of that miniscule circle in their small corner of the world. Truth be told the TTH were too spot-on and too doctrinaire to make it on MTV. But i think that's the way they wanted it. If they had "made it" by industry standards of the day, they would have failed. For better or worse, they were built to be big fish in a small, but cool, pond. Ultimately the water in the pond began to stagnate. Bacher left the band for personal reasons and was replaced by the extremely gifted Peter Meisner, himself a Crawdaddys alumnus. After recording just two stellar songs in this line-up, the band fractured with Meisner, Klowden and Brandes joining with bassist Tom Ward to form a Gram Parsons influenced band called the Town Criers. Stax and Calhoun continued on with a new line-up (and old, as Bacher made a small come back), but it never felt quite the same. How could it? In fact, the San Diego scene never seemed to be the same. Coincidence or not, I don't know.

Click here to listen to The Tell-Tale Hearts perform their original song, Crawling Back To Me.