On Such a Winter's Day

They weren't The Mamas & The Papas yet...they came upon that name virtually on the spur of the moment later on, after briefly flirting with calling themselves the Magic Circle.  They were just John Phillips, his young wife Michelle, and Denny Doherty, along with their friend Cass Elliot, who had essentially just come along for the ride.  They had driven cross-country and arrived in L.A. in 1965, flat broke and desperate to establish a career in music.

Shortly after arriving in Los Angeles, they literally bumped into an old friend from their Greenwich Village folk days, Barry McGuire.  At the moment, quite improbably, the gravel-voiced McGuire was one of the hottest new stars in Rock & Roll, having scored a #1 hit with a protest anthem, "Eve of Destruction".  McGuire invited the quartet to come sing some of John's original songs for Lou Adler, record producer and owner of the Dunhill label, to which Barry was signed.

Cass had wanted to be an official member of their group, but John had resisted adding her.  Phillips was a domineering personality, and Michelle and Denny were much more easy going and willing to let John play the leader.  But Cass was strong-willed as well, and she had no hesitancy to have it out with John whenever she felt he was pushing too hard, resulting in many an angry argument between them.  He couldn't deny that vocally, she blended beautifully with the other three; indeed, with their voices in full flight, they fused together in such a way that it seemed to create a fifth voice in their midst, resulting in an utterly unique sound.  He just wasn't sure he could put up with her standing up to him.

So she tagged along as the others auditioned for Adler.  They ran through several of their songs as the producer sat quietly with his arms crossed, the brim of his hat down over his eyes, saying little more than an occasional grunt.  They thought they had flopped, but when they were done, Adler offered them a contract with Dunhill.  He later said that internally, he was doing veritable backflips, so blown away by the vocal sounds he had heard, but he didn't want to display his enthusiasm for fear the group would demand too much money.

Adler had only one demand:  Cass was in the group, period.

Shortly afterward, Adler brought the group into United Western Recorders on Sunset Boulevard, the favorite recording studio of Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys and Elvis Presley.  Although The Mamas & The Papas were longtime folkies, and John played the acoustic guitar, Adler knew that their best hope for success was in the nascent Folk Rock genre.  So, the producer turned to the "Wrecking Crew", that collection of ace studio musicians who had played on such recent #1 Folk Rock hits as "Mr. Tambourine Man" by the Byrds, and Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe".  The quartet were joined by drummer Hal Blaine, bassist Joe Osborn, and guitarist P.F. Sloan.

One of the first things they recorded was a song called "California Dreamin'", written by John and Michelle back when they were living in New York City during a particularly cold winter.  When they were done, everyone there agreed it was a terrific recording.  To Lou Adler's ears, it sounded like a hit.  And to his way of thinking, there was only one logical thing to do with it.

He gave it to Barry McGuire.

Needing a follow-up hit to "Eve of Destruction", Adler thought "California Dreamin'" was the perfect choice.  They took Denny Doherty's lead vocals off of the track, but otherwise kept all of the backing vocals from The Mamas & The Papas.  Dunhill put the single out, and had McGuire debut it live on TV's "Shingdig", with The Mamas & The Papas singing backup, their first television appearance together.

And it flopped.  Huge.

It quickly became apparent that this song was not going to follow "Eve of Destruction" up to #1.  Indeed, it didn't even flirt anywhere near the Hot 100.  McGuire would go on to be a One Hit Wonder.  (He did have later success as an actor, appearing in several films, and starring in the original Broadway cast of "Hair").

Ordinarily, that would be that for "California Dreamin'", a failed song consigned to the ash heap of music history.  Except that Lou Adler wasn't done with it yet.  He knew deep in his gut that this had all the makings of a hit.  It was a thoroughbred...he had simply put the wrong jockey in the saddle.

Going back into the studio, he restored Doherty's lead vocals to the tune, and he added something else, replacing a harmonica solo during the bridge with a flute, inspired by "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" by the Beatles.

(Adler was a bit sloppy in erasing McGuire's vocals...if you listen closely at the very beginning, you can hear his rough-hewn voice buried amongst the others.)

Now, certain of success, Adler released the song at Christmastime of '65, and the response was a resounding...nothing.  At least at first.  But slowly, radio stations across the country began to play the song, and it built an audience.  Undoubtedly, it sounded nothing like anything else listeners had heard on the radio before, with those sparkling harmony voices (double-tracked to amplify their power) bursting through the speakers like sunshine, and it took a bit of time for people to understand what they were hearing.  But when they did take a moment to reflect on it, they realized that they liked what they heard.  "California Dreamin'" entered the Billboard charts in January, and by March it had peaked at #4.

And The Mamas & The Papas proved they were no one hit wonders, immediately following up their first hit with "Monday, Monday", which went all the way to #1, as did their debut album, the prophetically titled If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears.

A key ingredient to their initial success was their look.  They made the rounds of multiple TV shows..."Shindig", "Hullabaloo", "The Ed Sullivan Show"...and became immediately identifiable.  There was Denny, good locking and cocksure...John, gangly and mysterious, despite an inviting mega-watt smile...blonde and willowy Michelle...and rotund and joyous Cass, who had an angelic voice that could blast you out of the back seat of the theater.  They helped establish the look of 'hippie chic' with their multi-colored caftans and scarves, and swiftly became the most individually recognizable people in Rock & Roll since John, Paul, George and Ringo.

In retrospect, it's easy to say that "California Dreamin'" was destined to be a hit.  After all, how could it not?  But I think it's more important to recall that before it became a "sure fire" hit, it was a spectacular failure.  And that's often the nature of things, because nothing is certain.  But sometimes you get a second chance...and sometimes you should be careful what you wish for.  For The Mamas & The Papas, the success of "California Dreamin'" put them on the mountaintop for precisely two years, until internal squabbling, drugs the fracturing marriage of John and Michelle, an affair between Michelle and Denny, more drugs, and the pressures of stardom drove them apart.  In the midst of the craziness, they still managed to release four albums, and they put nearly twenty songs on the charts; many hit artists today can't achieve that in a decade.

But for all the troubles to come, there is still the pure, glorious dream promised by this song, and that remains undimmed even decades later.

Maternus Amor

So this Mother's Day is different than any other I've known, because for the first time I'm honoring not one, but two Moms.

As many of my friends know, I was adopted as a newborn.  I knew very, very little about my birth family, beyond the name I was christened with.  As an adult, not surprisingly, I was curious about where I came from, and with my Mom's encouragement I tried to find out some details.

Unfortunately, there were none to be had.  In a plot twist straight out of Dickens, back in the early 1970s there had been a fire at the orphanage where I was given to, and their paper records were destroyed.  All traces of my hidden past were gone.

While it would have been really nice to have known where I came from, and whether I had any siblings, I reconciled myself to never knowing, and put it out of my mind.

Until last September, that is.  That's when, for my birthday, my wife Dahlia got me the 23andme DNA testing.  Truthfully, it was so that I could get a clearer picture of my medical history, since I had no idea what 'runs in the family', and also to determine my actual ethnic nationalities.

Turns out my ancestry is largely British, Irish and French, with a smattering of other various European groups...and, intriguingly, 0.2% Native American.  I'd love to know the story of that hook up.

Health-wise, genetically speaking, I'm in fantastic shape, with no real disposition toward anything scary.  Did you know that Maple Syrup Urine Disease is an actual thing?  Well, now I do, but I'm not worried, because I don't have the variant for it.

The report is eerily specific about physical traits.  Genetically, I'm not likely to have a cleft chin, and I don't.  I should have detached earlobes, and I do.  DNA says I shouldn't have to worry about going bald, which pleases Dahlia to no end.

I do have 296 Neanderthal variants, which is more than 79% of the population does, so I have that going for me.

I found all of this fascinating as I read it for the first time.  Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum with Peripheral Neuropathy?  Nothing I have to worry about!  That Native American coupling likely happened sometime between 1700 and 1820?  Maybe they knew Alexander Hamilton!  I share a common ancestor with King Louis XVI?  Sacré bleu!

So I'm clicking through all of the reports online, and I come to one marked 'Your DNA Family'.  Opening it, I find 1,062 people, most of the listed as second to fifth cousins, and most of them anonymous.

But then there was the one at the top...the one identified only as Aimee.  The one who shares 26.3% DNA with me, and who the report clinically announces "We predict this person is your Half Sister".

Pow.  In an instant, I had a sister.

I was able to send a message to Aimee via the website (and as shocked as I was to learn of her, she surely was just as shocked to, in essence, get an Email announcing SURPRISE!  You have a half-brother you knew nothing about!!!)  We connected, and I got another surprise...I actually have two half-sisters!  Andrea is the younger of the two.

The tale is thus:  Marie was a young, single career girl in Chicago when, in January of 1966, she became pregnant.  Marriage was out of the question, as apparently my birth father quickly disappeared from Marie's life, presumably when she told him the news.  Despite the stigma of being an unwed mother at the time...and a Catholic at that...Marie was determined to have me.

She was also determined to give me up.

I had been asked once or twice in my life if I felt "abandoned", since I was placed in an orphanage at birth.  Just the opposite, actually...I've felt loved.  Because even as a child when I thought about this, I knew a woman carried me for nine months, cared for me, underwent the trauma of childbirth, and despite all of her maternal instincts to keep and nurture me, she gave me to others, because she knew it was the best thing for me.  Marie didn't just give me life, she gave me one of the most unselfish, loving acts a mother can bestow on their child.

I'd have liked very much to have told Marie that, and to thank her.  Sadly, she passed away in 2013.  What makes me most sorry is that I never had the opportunity to tell her that she did the right thing, and that it all worked out fine...that a good family took me, that I've grown up happy, and that my life is a good and fulfilling one.  I'm sure it would have pleased her mightily to know that.

A few years after having me, Marie met a man, and in time they married, had children, and grandchildren.  She raised her daughters with love, and taught them to be the best they can be.  She worked, she retired, she reveled in the role of grandmother.  She lived a perfectly normal life.  I am genuinely happy for her and the life she led.

Since this discovery, I've exchanged emails and texts with Aimee and Andrea.  Aimee lives in Iowa, and not too long ago I drove out to meet her, spending the afternoon talking.  This is going to sound tritely cliché, but it's the God's honest truth...I felt an immediate connection with her, and it felt as if we got on like two people who have known one another forever.  Andrea is in Ohio, and I'm hoping to either find the opportunity before too much more time has passed to go there, or perhaps we can stage a bit of a 'family reunion' for the three of us somewhere else.

And when we do, I'd like to raise a toast to our mother, Marie Frances Cousineau.  Until then, I'll simply wish her...

Happy Mother's Day

So, When Did Rock Finally Rule?

Rock and Roll has been so pervasive and dominant for so long...and for the sake of this piece, we'll encompass Hip Hop and Modern Country under the Rock umbrella as well...it's easy to think that it simply took over popular music right from the very start.

Although Rock and Roll first emerged as a Top 40 force in 1955 with the likes of Bill Haley and Chuck Berry, it was in '56 that it truly emerged as a dominating style, thanks primarily to Elvis Presley, who had four #1 songs on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart for a dazzling total of 26 out of 52 weeks that year.

(The name "Rock and Roll" predated the genre, by the way, having its origins in 1920s Blues music.  In the early 1950s, DJ Alan Freed began calling the high-energy Rhythm & Blues songs he played "Rock and Roll", and the name stuck when the new style, so heavily derived from R&B, emerged.)

Although Elvis and other Rock and Rollers still competed for chart space with decidedly non-Rock artists for several more years (other #1 songs in 1956 included "Lisbon Antigua" by Nelson Riddle and his Orchestra, "The Poor People of Paris" by Les Baxter, and "The Wayward Wind" by Gogi Grant...none of which found their way into the later repertoires of the Rolling Stones or the Beatles, unsurprisingly), the sea change had begun.

But Rock and Roll did not come to utterly eclipse all of the recording industry...at least not for quite a few years.  Instead, pop music developed a schism, with Rock prevailing among 45 RPM singles, and other musical forms holding sway over 33 1/3 RPM long player albums.  This was primarily for economic reasons.  The growth of the Middle Class in the 1950s gave Baby Boomers disposable income, and they chose to spend it on 45s, which averaged at a cost of between 50¢ and $1, whereas LPs could be a more princely $3, $4 or $5 apiece.

And so albums became the province of non-Rock genres.  Pop singers like Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald and Mel Torme would release several LPs in a calendar year, as would Jazz musicians such as Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie and Duke Ellington.  Boardway cast album and movie soundtracks were hugely successful (the cast album of My Fair Lady was the best selling LP of both 1957 and 1958!).  In the early Sixties, comedy records from the likes of Bob Newhart and Allan Sherman sold in the millions.

Of course, that's not to say that Rock and Rollers didn't release albums as well.  Generally though, they were considered more disposable by their record labels...a bit of a cash grab that usually consisted of ten or so songs quickly recorded in order to pad around a hit single.

Things began to change rapidly in the mid-1960s, however.  An impetus for this change was the fact that so many British Invasion bands, led by the Beatles, were releasing albums that weren't mere collections of random songs, but had themes.  The Boomer population was at its peak, the economy was roaring, and at last 33 1/3's were easily accessible to Rock fans,

Still, you might be surprised to learn that it still took a bit longer for Rock and Roll to take total charge.  The best-selling album of 1964, the year the Beatles hit in America and unleashed the British Invasion, saw the cast album of Hello, Dolly! outsell everything else.  In '65, it was the soundtrack to Mary Poppins.

It wasn't until 1966 that an album that could arguably fall into the realm of Rock and Roll was the best-seller of the year:  Whipped Cream & Other Delights by Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass.  Now, while Alpert and his assemblage were considerably hipper than, say, Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, a lot of fans might have to be convinced to consider them rockers.

Personally, I think it was the album's cover that helped hawk more than a few copies.  ;)

And then came 1967, the year of Sgt. Pepper.  And that just had to be the biggest seller of the year...right?

Nope.

The biggest selling album of that year, the year of the Summer of Love, was More of the Monkees.  Now, mind you, I'm a big fan of the Monkees, and it's impossible to claim that songs like "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" and "I'm A Believer", both found on this LP, aren't absolute classic pop songs.  But this album is really little more than unused tracks from the first Monkees LP sessions, churned out to capitalize on their massive overnight success.  Heck, the photo used for the jacket was an outtake of a photoshoot they did to promote 'Monkees Clothes' from J.C. Penney!  Creatively, their next two albums released that year, on which they gained artistic control and wrote and played on, were far superior.  But this was the album that sold in the millions.

But at least the Monkees broke the stranglehold on album sales, and at long last ushered in the era of Rock and Roll dominance.  And 1968, in terms of undeniable Rock and Roll, did it right.

Sure, it was the year of "The White Album" by the Beatles, Beggar's Banquet from the Stones, and Wheels of Fire by Cream.  But this time, fans were right on the money, buying in greater quantities the one album that year that is arguably as good, if not better than, those epic milestones:  Are You Experienced? from the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

Since 1968, the album charts would be ruled forevermore by Rock and Roll.  Even movie soundtracks like Jesus Christ Superstar, Saturday Night Fever and The Bodyguard...all the biggest sellers of their release years...were steeped in the stylistic trappings of Rock.  Sometimes the all-time annual sellers were head-scratchingly strange:  Iron Butterfly's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida ('69)?  Some Gave All ('92) from Billy Ray Cyrus?  But other times, they were right on the money.  Because of course Bridge Over Trouble Water by Simon and Garfunkel ('70), Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John ('74), Rumours by Fleetwood Mac ('77), Thriller by Michael Jackson ('83 and '84), and both 21 ('11 and '12) and 25 ('15) by Adele had to be the biggest selling albums of their years, because they quite probably best encapsulated what was best about Rock and Roll in those years.  They were certainly all artistic triumphs for the performers who created them.

So now you know some new bits of trivia to amaze your friends with.  Here's one more:  do you know which artist was the only biggest seller in three different years with three different albums?  None other than Sir Elton John!  There was the aforementioned ...Brick Road, while his Greatest Hits Volume I sold like hotcakes in 1975, and he returned to the top in 1994 with the soundtrack to The Lion King.  And on that note, let's go out with some Elton...