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Cool rock n roll photos
- Thread starter Chad-Chicago
- Start date
Larry LaLonde and Puddles Pity Party--he sang "Holy Diver" with Primus on NYE.
Never knew this, but Tommy Chong had a decent music career prior to C &C.
Add to that he was in the same band as a pre- 3 Dog Night Floyd Sneed (on drums and at the top of line up photo). They put out one album on the Gordy Label, but were never really signed to Motown. The Little Daddy band morphed into the B. Taylor and the Vancouvers.
Add to that he was in the same band as a pre- 3 Dog Night Floyd Sneed (on drums and at the top of line up photo). They put out one album on the Gordy Label, but were never really signed to Motown. The Little Daddy band morphed into the B. Taylor and the Vancouvers.
Mickey is an original member, having joined in 1967. He left the band from 1971 - 1974. Mickey and Billy are the only surviving original members.
Jan. 1971 after performing at Detroit's Eastown Theater is Don Van Vliet on soprano sax as Captain Beefheart with his Magic Band; Art Tripp, Elliot Ingber, Mark Boston, Bill Harkleroad, John French at WABX Tubeworks.
photo-Robert Matheu
photo-Robert Matheu
Mike Ness of Social Distortion - Speedway Cafe - Salt Lake City - June 13 1990
Phil Lynott and Mick Jones (of the Clash).
Phil & Marshall Chess, Willie Dixon
Willie Dixon: The Chess brothers always told me they were gonna start a company and when they did they wanted me to play with them. I thought they was just kidding, but sure enough they called me up. The first thing I did for Chess was playing string bass on a Robert Nighthawk song - 'Sweet Black Angel'. After that I ended up on a whole lot of sessions - Muddy. Little Walter, Wolf, Eddie Boyd, Chuck Berry... really, I was playing bass on most of those records until they came up with the electric bass. Leonard Chess called himself the producer but he didn't really know what was going on. He never knew nothing about no music - if you made a record he could tap his foot to, he'd think that was a good record. A lot of times he'd just antagonize people in the studio, swearing at them 'cause he thought that would make them play better. We'd waste a lot of time that way. He was smart latching onto the Blues because it made him money, but he never had much of a feel for the music itself and if he had ideas he didn't know how to explain them. But after a while he started to listen to me because I'd tell him when I thought a song wasn't going to sell. After one or two of my things went over OK, he began to have confidence in me. He was smart enough to surround himself with guys who knew what they was doing. A lot of people think the Blues is just 12 bars but it don't have to be 12 bars. Some musicians don't understand that either, they wanted to do the same songs all the time, but you have to explain that, if you're doing something different, the songs are gonna stick in the audience's mind. You need to make a different kind of sound for it to go over, with a different introduction, a different rhythm, a different way of expressing it. And you got to have a theme to your record. 'Hoochie Coochie Man', that's from the old idea of the seventh son of a seventh son, how he has special powers. Or some lines people can remember, like 'you can't judge a book by looking at its cover". I had to get involved in the recording, to get the right tone, otherwise wouldn't out the way I wanted. Getting the sound was sometimes hard. There was this rivalry between Wolf and Muddy, and each of them thought the other was getting the best songs. A lot of times Wolf wouldn't like a song unless I told him I'd written it for Muddy. Little Walter didn't want to do 'My Babe' I knew it was right for him, but it took me two years to get him to record it, and it turned out to be his biggest hit. It was sometimes difficult, but I'd go backwards, forwards, any way I could to get them over. In the studio, it was a question of blending the sound. You got each of the guys only thinking about what they are playing, but you got to be thinking about how all comes together, and how it will come out on record. There was no headphones, maybe only one or two microphones, you'd have to do all the harmonizing and blending with your ears, go into the room and listen, and work out how to blend the sound properly.
source: Portrait of The Blues by Paul Trynka
Willie Dixon: The Chess brothers always told me they were gonna start a company and when they did they wanted me to play with them. I thought they was just kidding, but sure enough they called me up. The first thing I did for Chess was playing string bass on a Robert Nighthawk song - 'Sweet Black Angel'. After that I ended up on a whole lot of sessions - Muddy. Little Walter, Wolf, Eddie Boyd, Chuck Berry... really, I was playing bass on most of those records until they came up with the electric bass. Leonard Chess called himself the producer but he didn't really know what was going on. He never knew nothing about no music - if you made a record he could tap his foot to, he'd think that was a good record. A lot of times he'd just antagonize people in the studio, swearing at them 'cause he thought that would make them play better. We'd waste a lot of time that way. He was smart latching onto the Blues because it made him money, but he never had much of a feel for the music itself and if he had ideas he didn't know how to explain them. But after a while he started to listen to me because I'd tell him when I thought a song wasn't going to sell. After one or two of my things went over OK, he began to have confidence in me. He was smart enough to surround himself with guys who knew what they was doing. A lot of people think the Blues is just 12 bars but it don't have to be 12 bars. Some musicians don't understand that either, they wanted to do the same songs all the time, but you have to explain that, if you're doing something different, the songs are gonna stick in the audience's mind. You need to make a different kind of sound for it to go over, with a different introduction, a different rhythm, a different way of expressing it. And you got to have a theme to your record. 'Hoochie Coochie Man', that's from the old idea of the seventh son of a seventh son, how he has special powers. Or some lines people can remember, like 'you can't judge a book by looking at its cover". I had to get involved in the recording, to get the right tone, otherwise wouldn't out the way I wanted. Getting the sound was sometimes hard. There was this rivalry between Wolf and Muddy, and each of them thought the other was getting the best songs. A lot of times Wolf wouldn't like a song unless I told him I'd written it for Muddy. Little Walter didn't want to do 'My Babe' I knew it was right for him, but it took me two years to get him to record it, and it turned out to be his biggest hit. It was sometimes difficult, but I'd go backwards, forwards, any way I could to get them over. In the studio, it was a question of blending the sound. You got each of the guys only thinking about what they are playing, but you got to be thinking about how all comes together, and how it will come out on record. There was no headphones, maybe only one or two microphones, you'd have to do all the harmonizing and blending with your ears, go into the room and listen, and work out how to blend the sound properly.
source: Portrait of The Blues by Paul Trynka
He was born in Edmonton, grew up in Calgary, and wound up in Vancouver after Calgary’s mayor “asked” his band to leave the city.
He also met a certain Richard Marin while in Vancouver.
by Cutter Brandenburg aka Mr. Cee:
Here's a little thang that happened kinda early on. For the few different shows we were doin' things were kinda weird, you would never know what you would really need. After about two or three shows I discovered that we needed to have some serious extra long heavy gauge extension cords with at least four outlet junction boxes. So, I bought three. One was 150 ft, one was 100 ft and the third was 50 ft. Stevie always had some weird electric thang going on. I swear I would hook him up separate from anything and anyone else and check everything, no shocks, very little noise. Well, with a Strat ya might just pick up a cop car call or something, no tellin'. But anyway, Stevie would go and immediately get shocked. I would stand there and he would let go I would grab the guitar and not get shocked. Then he would reach over and touch me and boom we both were zapped. I'd say, "Vaughan, damn it, don't touch me." He'd laugh and say, "Well, I got zapped too." Man it was weird. It was always like that. Years later I heard he was still getting zapped when others wouldn't. Stevie also liked to play around. Sometimes, as I was just getting ready to introduce them, but it would still be dark, Stevie would reach out and touch me on the shoulder and Zap! I'd yell out, "shag!" That's the first word the audience would hear. He would crack up. I'd have to walk way away to do the introduction, just so I could keep an eye on him. He also got so used to being plugged into his own power and not sharing at all. We always had less noise if his power was totally his. One time, somewhere, we had power available where we could separate each instrument so I did not use this long ass cord. I plugged him straight in the wall. As the show started I saw that he was really having a time with somethin', all during the first song he was lookin" around and kept going to the amp and checkin' the knobs. Which reminds me by the way, he used to put his hand under all the knobs and pull his hand back so that every knob was on ten in one quick pull back. I use to say, "Vaughan, why don't I just superglue them bastards on ten?" Anyway, by the end of the first song I went to him and said, "What's wrong?" He said, "Somethin', man, I ain't sure." We checked everything and he pulled the cables out of this pedal and back in, jiggled this and tapped on top of the amp, then hit it with his fist. I said, "Stevie, it's all ok, everything is right." So he went to the second song. I mean by the middle of the second song he was really bummed. I walked up. and before I could say anything he said, "It sounds like dog shag!" I said, "What the hell does dog shag sound like?" He said, "That." I said, "Man, the only thing I can see different is that I did not use that extension box." He leaned over the amp and looked and said, "Cee would ya mind, let's try that." I said, "No man, but I don't see how that could be anything." I pulled this dang, long ass cable out and plugged him in, and I'll be danged, it sounded better and he smiled and took off on song three. I always used that cable box from then on, no matter what. So, I'm not sure, but I know there must be some kinda mojo blues thing, 'cause he took off after I replaced that cable. He smiled and winked at me as if to say, "I knew somethin' was not right." As years went by the old cable was spliced, repaired, tapped and well, I finally had to retire it. It laid in my garage for years, it moved whenever and wherever we moved.
photo-Dana Brown
Here's a little thang that happened kinda early on. For the few different shows we were doin' things were kinda weird, you would never know what you would really need. After about two or three shows I discovered that we needed to have some serious extra long heavy gauge extension cords with at least four outlet junction boxes. So, I bought three. One was 150 ft, one was 100 ft and the third was 50 ft. Stevie always had some weird electric thang going on. I swear I would hook him up separate from anything and anyone else and check everything, no shocks, very little noise. Well, with a Strat ya might just pick up a cop car call or something, no tellin'. But anyway, Stevie would go and immediately get shocked. I would stand there and he would let go I would grab the guitar and not get shocked. Then he would reach over and touch me and boom we both were zapped. I'd say, "Vaughan, damn it, don't touch me." He'd laugh and say, "Well, I got zapped too." Man it was weird. It was always like that. Years later I heard he was still getting zapped when others wouldn't. Stevie also liked to play around. Sometimes, as I was just getting ready to introduce them, but it would still be dark, Stevie would reach out and touch me on the shoulder and Zap! I'd yell out, "shag!" That's the first word the audience would hear. He would crack up. I'd have to walk way away to do the introduction, just so I could keep an eye on him. He also got so used to being plugged into his own power and not sharing at all. We always had less noise if his power was totally his. One time, somewhere, we had power available where we could separate each instrument so I did not use this long ass cord. I plugged him straight in the wall. As the show started I saw that he was really having a time with somethin', all during the first song he was lookin" around and kept going to the amp and checkin' the knobs. Which reminds me by the way, he used to put his hand under all the knobs and pull his hand back so that every knob was on ten in one quick pull back. I use to say, "Vaughan, why don't I just superglue them bastards on ten?" Anyway, by the end of the first song I went to him and said, "What's wrong?" He said, "Somethin', man, I ain't sure." We checked everything and he pulled the cables out of this pedal and back in, jiggled this and tapped on top of the amp, then hit it with his fist. I said, "Stevie, it's all ok, everything is right." So he went to the second song. I mean by the middle of the second song he was really bummed. I walked up. and before I could say anything he said, "It sounds like dog shag!" I said, "What the hell does dog shag sound like?" He said, "That." I said, "Man, the only thing I can see different is that I did not use that extension box." He leaned over the amp and looked and said, "Cee would ya mind, let's try that." I said, "No man, but I don't see how that could be anything." I pulled this dang, long ass cable out and plugged him in, and I'll be danged, it sounded better and he smiled and took off on song three. I always used that cable box from then on, no matter what. So, I'm not sure, but I know there must be some kinda mojo blues thing, 'cause he took off after I replaced that cable. He smiled and winked at me as if to say, "I knew somethin' was not right." As years went by the old cable was spliced, repaired, tapped and well, I finally had to retire it. It laid in my garage for years, it moved whenever and wherever we moved.
photo-Dana Brown
