Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Re: Who Knows What Evil Lurks In The Hearts of Men? The Shadow Sho' Do & He K...

Robert---Tell El Nixo I have a great photo of him taken in Clearwater, Fla, about 1965. I think he had come over from Jax to interview with Buddy Buie for the Candymen job. Buddy was with us (the James Gang) while we were playing Clearwater Beach. While visiting us and Paul Cochran at the motel, we baptized him and Buie both by throwing them into the pool. Buddy and I had just gone in together to buy a new-fangled Polaroid portable instant camera (which I quickly managed total ownership of) so I snapped pictures every time we karate-chopped Paul into unconsciousness or tossed somebody into the pool. They had to rope our rooms off after we left to clear out the hundreds of fried chicken boxes stacked around the room, but I don't like to talk about that.
Jimmy Dean

Tue, 24 May 2005 22:44:59 EDT
Re: Billy Joe @ "THE DIRTY BIRD" on June 17

Hey Robert Nix! Well, heck, I may not remember exactly who tossed who, but I got some great pictures of the well-soaked Fred Guarino, you, and Buie. Plus one of Cochran after we knocked him out cold. I was too busy drinking cold beer and eating take-out fried chicken to keep track of the details. Sheesh---I was really hoping you wouldn't remember about your house in Jax that time. I'm pretty sure that was John Rainey's and Wilbur's fault. And Fred's and Bubba's. And the rest of the Candymen who showed up mid week. And also those weird girls who kept hanging around. Not to mention Buie and Cochran who showed up that weekend. I think I was too busy drinking cold beer and eating bologna sandwiches filched out of your refrigerator to have done any real damage myself. Take care of yourself, Dude, and tell the ol' Ox I said hello. I've truly missed seeing both of you guys over the years. If you get down Dothan way, give me a call, and we'll----well, hell, we'll get some cold beer and KFC! Our old buddy Billy Joe Royal will be in town June 17; if yall ain't booked head on down. Buie's gonna be in Canada that week and Justo will be in New York practicing his golf game, so I need some help heckling Billy Joe.

Roberto Register: the tickets are $15.00 each, first show starting at 8 PM I think. I see you found a web site for them; I usually buy them at The Barn, a retail outlet that always seems to sell their tickets. If any of yall make it down, give me a call ahead of time or be sure to look me up once you get there. I'll be the one drinking cold beer and eating----well, you know.........
Jimmy Dean

"robert register"
Re: Clearwater Photos from '65
Tue, 24 May 2005 16:47:00 -0500


The photo of the DAVE MILLER SET which appeared on their '68 EP, Hope

The Dave Miller Set [Spin EX 11530]
Hope / Havin' A Party // Why Why Why / Hard Hard Year

Their next single, appropriately entitled Hope, had a particularly interesting background. The original version came from the 1967 debut album by The Candymen, and it was co-written by Buddy Buie and Candymen lead guitarist John Rainey Adams[sic]. They started out in the '50s in Dothan, Alabama as members of The Webs, the group that launched the career of singer Bobby Goldsboro, a childhood friend of Buie's. When they backed Roy Orbison on a visit to Dothan he was so impressed that he hired them on the spot as his permanent band, and and Buie became his tour manager. Renamed The Candymen, they worked with Roy for seven years, touring the world, and Adkins played lead on many 'Big O' classics including Oh Pretty Woman. After they left Roy they cut two albums under their own name for ABC and Buie became a successful songwriter-producer, with credits including the Classics Four's Windy and Spooky, as well as hits for Billy Joe Royal and BJ Thomas. In the '70s he set up his own studio in Atlanta, where he put together the session band that became The Atlanta Rhythm Section.

Released in April 1968, Hope was a quantum leap in the band's studio work. Dave cites it as one of his favourite recordings, and its not hard to see why -- it's a psych-pop classic, a tremendously strong and hugely enjoyable record that brims with confidence and optimism. Dave's vocal is spot-on and the infectious backing, in a brisk march tempo, skips along with some great ensemble playing by the group. It's topped off by Pat's sparkling arrangement for horns, piccolos and strings (with contributions from Sven Libaek, who scored the horns and piccolos). The B-side is a swinging, good-time version of Sam Cooke's Havin' A Party, a perennial stage favourite that Dave often performed with The Byrds which he updated with the namechecks of Stone Free and Strange Brew. The single did quite well in Sydney, peaking at #27, largely thanks to Ward Austin of 2UW who liked the song and was instrumental in breaking it into the chart with regular airings on his afternoon shift.


From an article entitled Watching Bobby Grow by Jim Bickhart
The spring of Bobby's senior year in high school rolled around along about this time, and one day he found himself sitting in the school cafeteria eating lunch. Word had gotten around that he was doing some picking ( not many high school kids were doing too much picking those days, especially the all-star baseball players ), and the guys in the school's " biggest" rock and roll band asked Bobby to come jam with them one afternoon.
"Somewhere they got the idea I was pretty good," laughs Goldsboro. "I mean, I was trying to write some stuff and working out rhythm parts, but I was mainly good at figuring out the chords to songs right off. So I go over to where they were set up and watch their guitar player do Chet Atkins picking. He was sloppy, but it was recognizably ambitious, and I was real impressed.
"They were trying to work out some old Rick Nelson hit; something like 'Poor Little Fool'. It had a real straight progression, but they couldn't get the minor chord. So they asked me and I knew it right away. Played along with the record, and they were impressed. A couple of days later, I got a phone call from one of them, a deep-voiced kid named John Rainey. He asked me if I 'wanted to make $10 this weekend playin' at a teen dance.' their lead singer was going out of town and they needed an extra guitarist so Rainey could sing. I figured 'why not?' Playing guitar was a lot of fun and if someone would pay you to go someplace and do it, who was I to refuse? "
A rehearsal or two later, Bobby was ready. The band had him memorize a couple of Rick nelson's hits, including the aforementioned "Poor Little Fool," and told him he'd have to sing those at the gig. His attempts to beg off failed, and he went into his first job as a guitarist technically, if not mentally. prepared to make his singing debut as well.
"I kept stalling around," he says, "finding some other song to play every time Rainey asked me to sing one of my numbers. Finally, in the middle of the second set, we ran out of alternatives. So I moved my microphone over behind a pillar and hid while I sang. Right in the middle of the song, Poor Little Fool, some girl stuck her head around the post to see who was singing and nearly scared me into forgetting the rest of the song. That was my first public singing experience."
By summer, he was in this band, called the Webbs, fulltime, wearing his hair greased back, dressed in a sport coat and tie decorated with spider webs. They were just about the only truly competent band in the area of Dothan and it was paying off in terms of employment.
"When I went off to Auburn, I stayed with the band," explaines Goldsboro, "I'd borrow my brother's car or take a bus and go back to Dothan for weekend gigs. I was majoring in Business Administration and doing okay, but I was really beginning to think about music a lot. My second year, Rainey and the bass player came to Auburn too, we found a new drummer and became the hot band on campus.
"Being the campus rock and roll band was pretty good," he continues. "I wasn't the coolest guy around, my hair all slicked back and being so short and all, but all the fraternities were rushing me, inviting me to parties and being real friendly. I took everything I could get but never joined a one of them. I figured they thought they'd be getting a free band for all their parties and I wasn't buying that."
Bobby remembers one big weekend when adjacent frat houses threw competing parties, one hiring an equally renowned band from Florida State; these two bands dominated the college dance and party scene in the Southwest that year, and the overflow crowds at the two parties poured out into the street all night.
"Those parties were really wild, " he says, "everyone hot and sweaty, dancin' in that humidity, while we'd be up there in our outfits, cool as you please, playing away. Our big number was 'Walk Don't Run'; we had the Ventures down cold."
Between the weekend gigs at school and the vacation dates around the South, the Webbs were beginning to build up a widespread reputation. Their travels took them from Florida all the way to Missouri, with each musician earning up to $100 a night.

By the end of Bobby's second year in college, an old high school friend named Bubby Buie had become more or less the manager of the Webbs. Buddy, now a prominent producer and writer in Nashville, had notions of becoming an enterpreneur as well, so he began to book concerts. The Webbs, of course, always managed to be on the bill.
"He was trying to get Conway Twitty for four gigs in different cities," explaines Bobby. "Twitty had had a couple hits but he was overpriced, so Buddy went after Roy Orbison, whose last four records had all gone top ten. He was nearly the hottest thing going, yet his price was real reasonable. He'd just fired his band, so Buddy promised him a backup group that was really hot. that turned out to be us; we went out and bought some Orbison records and copied the arrangements, and it worked out surprisingly well. Orbison asked us to become his permanent group."
This unexpected offer placed Bobby and his colleagues at a threshold of decision; should they run off seeking fame and fortune or stay in college?
"I wasn't too sure of what I wanted to study," recalls Goldsboro. "My main interest was now music, I was making good money at it, beginning to wrote songs, and the band was sounding good. We thought we could do it, so we accepted Roy's offer. It was, looking back on it, pretty daring, especially by today's standards. I'd never do it again, but I'm glad I tried it once."
What Bobby and the Webbs tried was the road, for two and a half years with Orbison. Roy would fly between cities while the Webbs would travel by car. They went through all kinds of hassles, from freezing in blizzards to sleeping five to a room to earn their baptism by fire.
"We didn't make a whole lotta money either," says Bobby. "I remember my last full year with Roy, 1963, I was able to travel all over the U .S. and Europe, with Roy paying the bills, but at the end of the year, when I filled out my tax form, I realized I hadn't made any money. I said to myself 'this is getting out of hand.' I had just gotten married, I was literally seeing the world and still I didn't have anything in the bank. My wife was putting up with a lot then, and she deserved better. We both did."
It was the Webbs's vacations that proved to hold the key for Bobby's escape. Back in Dothan, after coming in from Roy's tours, the band would find some gigs on their own or head off to Birmingham {beginning of typographical error-ed} bought a couple of our master tapes and sold them to four different people simultaneously. Then he disappered off to Puerto Rico or somewhere. It was pretty funny, expect that one of the people who thought he was buying sole rights to our tapes was Jack Gold, then an independent producer. He apparently liked my voice and compositions.
Bobby, who had taped some intermittent local success with a couple of Webbs singles, was now looking forward to the big time in a big way. To his surprise, however, Jack Gold had founded him a tune called " Molly", about a blind soldier returning from the Civil War.
"I looked at the lyrics he sent me in the mail," says Bobby, "and I really wondered. 'This is gonna be my first record in the big time? I was disappointed at first, but I learned that Jack had a pretty good ear for hit ballads. "Molly" made the lower part of the top 100, so it got me going. Two follow-ups bombed though, so I was essentially starting over again when Jack was hired by United Artists at the end of 1963."

Bobby had continued writing during this period, still touring with Orbison ( including one to Britain on the bill with the Beatles ) and working with the Webbs. But he was getting itchy, and began working on Gold to let him record some of his own tunes. Gold finally relented and along with a pair of nonoriginals, Bobby cut two of his own songs in New York in October, 1963. One of them was "See the Funny Little Clown".
"See the Funny Little Clown" rose into the national top ten during a turbulent period for the American culture. People were in shock over the recent assassination of President Kennedy, looking for ways to escape the memories. It was a time ripe for newcomers who could provide an outlet for the pentup emotions of the time. Bobby Goldsboro got his foot firmly in the door, followed closely by an enormous flood of British artists led by those same Beatles with whom Bobby and Roy Orbison had toured earlier in the year.


Sunday, July 24, 2005

Tuesday will be the 52nd anniversary of the Moncada Attack by Fidel and, of course, now it's the high holy day in Cuba, called something like El Dia Del Revolucion National.

Only today did I realize that Allen Ginsberg was invited to visit Cuba by Fidel 40 years ago in 1965. Because Allen wondered aloud while visiting Cuba whether Fidel was queer and wondered why Fidel banned reefer, Allen didn't stay long.
The following posts got me to thinking. Maybe the Kennedys and Kesey had the right idea. Maybe a little sanity can be brought to Cuba without killing up some folks.
Anyway, for Moncada Day, I thought about a Kesey driving his bus through Matanzas and meeting the people.
How 'bout it Zane?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
roberto http://rockpilgrimage.blogspot.com


In the early sixties, Ginsberg threw himself into the hippie scene. He and
Timothy Leary worked together on Leary's new discovery, the psychedelic drug LSD. As a
famous American poet, Ginsberg was able to hold audiences with important political
figures all over the world, and during the 60's he took advantage of this repeatedly. He
mainly just pissed off one important official after another, getting kicked out of Cuba
and Prague, and annoying American conservatives. He was a familiar figure at protests
against the Vietnam War, this coupled with the fact he was so open with his views helped
put America in a mood which was against the war.
The list of 60's events that Ginsberg played an important part in. He participated in Ken
Kesey's Acid Test Festivals in San Francisco, and helped Kesey relieve tension between
the San Francisco hippies and the Hell's Angels. In the summer of 1965 Ginsberg made a
trip to London with several other Beat figures. Their reading at the Royal Albert Hall is
what started the London underground scene, which helped spark a new breed from which
bands like Pink Floyd and The Soft Machine would come about. Bob Dylan often cited
Ginsberg as one of the few literary figures he could stand. Ginsberg can be seen standing
in the alley in the background of Dylan's 1965 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' video, and
later played a part in Dylan's 1977 film 'Renaldo and Clara.' Ginsberg, Gary Snyder and
Michael McClure led the crowd in chanting "OM" at the San Fransisco Be-In in 1967.
In 1970 Ginsberg met with Tibetan guru Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. Ginsberg soon accepted
Trungpa as his personal guru. He and poet Anne Waldman joined to create a poetry school,
"The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics", at Trungpa's Naropa Institute in
Boulder, Colorado.
In the early eighties Ginsberg joined the punk rock movement, appearing on the Clash's
'Combat Rock' album and performing with them on stage. Ginsberg carried on an active
social schedule until his death in April 1997. He never moved away from his apartment in
the streets of New York City's Lower East Side, and would constantly be seen at local
readings and gatherings, either on a stage or in a crowd.

Date: Sun, 6 Apr 1997 13:49:24 -0700
From: Adrien Begrand
Subject: Death News

What a week it's been.
A strange strange month for myself,
reaquainting myself with Allen's poesy
reading Dharma Lion Collected Poems
listening to Holy Soul Jelly Roll,
hearing his beautiful Kaddish
watching his Life And Times
delighting most in what he called his
"little spontaneous word firecrackers":

"A naked lunch is natural to us,
we eat reality sandwiches.
But allegories are so much lettuce.
Don't hide the madness."

"who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat
through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening
to the
crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox..."

"Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the

"I have the moan of doves and the feather of ecstasy..."

"I am the King of May, which is industry in eloquence and action in

Oh, far too many to mention.

A few days ago I read about his amazing 1965:
visited Cuba
pissed people off, was deported
visited Moscow
pissed people off, barely escaped unscathed
visited Prague, welcomed as a returning hero
elected King of May by 100,000 people
held his title for a mere few hours
followed by plainclothes cops
assaulted on the street
had notebook stolen
and finally booted to London, wrote Kral Majales on the plane
landed in London in time to meet Dylan
filmed Don't Look Back
leaped in John Lennon's lap
organized Albert Hall poetry reading
wrote Who Be Kind To
and upon returning to New York was strip searched
cos Hoover was scared shitless of him
and the year was barely half over.

Read the story grinning,
amazed how such a gentle man who never hit anybody
could be so feared by authorities.
Feared cos he told the truth,
his whole life was about telling the truth,
being true to himself
true to his friends
and refusing to be duped by the Gov't Machine of Moloch

Then read Allen was sick, had been for days.
Couldn't believe it at first, but more and more rumours and finally
reports came in.
I thought his few months would be incredible,
with endless tributes
a celebration of his life's work.
So I returned to his poetry now with renewed fervor.

Next day, received a bundle of posters, among them
Allen's poem "Visiting Father and Friends"
his dream of seeing Neal again
and crashing at his father's new place,
and Jack's "Daydreams for Ginsberg"
spontaneous thoughts from the man who taught Allen
how to create a mainline straight from the heart to the paper.

The timing of everything becoming scary.

Then rumours of his condition worsening.
Thought nothing of it, actually.
Kept reading.

Spent a quiet Saturday at home,
upon checking e-mails noticed none from beat-l.
Thought nothing of it, kept reading.

Took a break from reading to fulfill civic duty as Canadian
watching Sat. night hockey.
Went to check e-mail after first period,
only to find a lone post from Ron Whitehead:
"Beat Poet Laureate Ginsberg Dies"

Jaw dropped.
Sighed, read the letter,
instantly forwarded it to the mailing list thinking
"Why hasn't anyone mentioned this?"
Searched the internet for more news, heard words from his friends,
including a short tribute from Ferlinghetti

Still didn't know what to think of all this,
saddened knowing I'd never hear him read in public,
the closest I had gotten to him was on an irc chat,
knowing there'd be no more new works from him,
but realized in the end that's all selfishness.

Listened to and read his poetry all night,
Pacific High Studio Mantras sounding more powerful than ever,
ending with Ashes & Blues cd playing at four in the morning
reality finally starting to sink in,
Gospel Noble Truths ("Die when you die")
On Neal's Ashes
Father Death Blues
After Lalon ("Don't follow my path to extinction")

Then silence
Eyes glazed over, but
no tears

Today the e-mail caught up with me,
sixty letters, many beautiful tributes among them.

Still couldn't quite articulate my thoughts,
but decided to write anyway

Thought of Allen's mercurial final days and was reminded of Jack's
famous line:

the ones who never yawn or never say a commonplace thing, but burn,
burn, burn like fabulous yellow oman candles exploding like spiders
across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and
everybody goes


Allen, I like to think of you being welcomed into the afterlife
by yr waiting mother Naomi,
Louis smiling, anxious to carry on yr existential discussions
now that you both know what's on the other side,
Mrs. Kerouac politely saying hi but still with that disapproving look in
her eyes,
and in the distance two figures, both looking youthful again,
in front of a green auto,
no tea, no tokay this time
("who needs it here, natural eyeball kicks, dig?")
waiting for you to join them on the ultimate Road.

Thank you Allen, for everything.

"He isn't dead
as the many pages of words arranged thrill
with his intonations the mouths of meek kids
becoming subtle even in Bengal. Thus
there's a life moving out of his pages...
Mourn O Ye Angels of the Left Wing! that the poet
of the streets is a skeleton under the pavement now
and there's no other old soul so kind and meek
and feminine jawed and him-eyed can see you
What you wanted to be among the bastards out there."

Benares, March 20, 1963

Adios, Kral Majales.

Adrien Begrand
Hudson Bay, Sask., April 5-6, 1997