Ferreting out the truth as to who Michael Jackson really was makes for fascinating detective work, and when you gather up as many witness statements as you can, you're still left feeling that the picture is incomplete.





Talking to Smokey Robinson's wife, Claudette, a Miracle herself up until around 1965, she remembers a merry little cherub with a mischievous streak who played a mean game of Ms. Pacman.

"I was talking to actually Jerry Butler's wife, Nanette, and she said, 'Do you remember how he used to come behind us and cover our eyes?' You know, put his hands over our eyes and stand behind us and say, 'Who is this?' You know, like, 'Guess who it is?' laughs Claudette. "And he was the only one that did that, so you know who it was. It was Michael. So he was just a kid having fun, and I think a lot of that child within, which we all have and that some of us lose so soon, he continued to have that quality of being."

And being that Michael was always a kid at heart, it stands to reason he'd be good at video games. Claudette recalls a time when Jackson got the best of Smokey's bride at her game.

"One occasion I was thinking about, we were all up at Mr. Gordy's house and Mr. Gordy has a lot of games," Claudette says. "You know, like video games, like Pacman, Ms. Pacman, all the famous games that they had. And he has chess games, he had a tennis court, pool ... whatever. And everybody was just milling around and doing things, and I was intrigued by him because Ms. Pacman happened to be one of my very favorite games. (laughs) It was, I'm going to tell you, phenomenal. I was the queen of Ms. Pacman. And it was sort of like a little contest. Everybody was trying to see how many points they could gather and get on the board. Of course, at that time, I think Smokey was telling everybody that [I was] really good. She's really good. And I thought I was really, really gonna win, but I didn't. Michael got more points than I did. And Mr. Gordy got more points than I did. And I was just a little bit ... I think Smokey had built me up, and then I didn't pass the test. (laughs) But that was [a moment] I recall because he had such a ... you know, it's great when people have a free spirit and they can begin to enjoy themselves."

That wasn't always the case with Michael or his brothers. In the early '70s, Randi Reisfeld was then a junior editor at the teen magazine 16. At that time, the Osmond Brothers and the Jackson 5 were the hottest things going, and they both were featured on the magazine's cover a number of times.

Reisfeld worked with the Jacksons a few times, and she recalls two Michaels: One was the quiet, cowed child who always did what his handlers wanted and didn't raise a fuss about it, while the other was the dynamic, electrifying live performer she saw light up Madison Square Garden in concert.

"He really became something different, something magical," says Reisfeld of Michael Jackson the performer.

Off stage, when doing whatever needed to be done in working with the press, Michael wasn't quite so exuberant. He was what Reisfeld called "a good soldier."

"I just got the idea he was this poor kid, this puppet, who was being bullied and bossed around by those in charge," says Reisfeld.

Watch for more from Claudette and Reisfeld in our cover story on Michael Jackson scheduled for Goldmine's Aug. 28 issue. And stay tuned for more on an auction of 16 magazine music memorabilia that'll be held by Backstage Auctions this fall. Visit www.backstageauctions.com for information on the sale.

In 1969, the world was on fire, the product of the turmoil of 1968. And the music, so much more adventurous and thrilling than anybody has ever really been able to describe, reflected the wild, destructive, beautiful, joyous, scared shitless nature of the times. Incredible records were made by Led Zeppelin, The Who, David Bowie, Dusty Springfield, Funkadelic, The Byrds and The Rolling Stones, and The Beatles were about to implode, while Bob Dylan was, of all things, going country. Even hip-hop was taking its first steps with The Last Poets. The Grateful Dead was locked in a perpetual acid-laced jam, and the Velvet Underground was injecting a hot shot of heroin into the veins of the hippie culture, hoping to kill it dead. Genres were being split and recombined into strange new hybrids, with psychedelic soul, progressive rock, proto-punk, jazz rock, glam and even the Broadway musical was finding converts among the great unwashed.

Sharply incisive and told with cutting humor, Pollock's new 352-page book "By The Time We Got To Woodstock," published by Backbeat Books and available in September for $19.99, tosses aside the rose-colored glasses and digs into the cultural morass that was the late '60s to get at the truth and find out what it really was all about.

Pollock, whose online site, www.thejoysofsegues.blogspot.com, provides a really interesting read, took time out to talk about the book with Goldmine:

What did you set out to do with this book, and in the end, did it evolve into something much different?
Bruce Pollock: Originally it was just going to be a lot of stitched-together reminiscences of "sixties survivors" a la my previous book "Working Musicians." I was going to call it "The Aged of Aquarius." It was only after I got into deeply researching the actual music produced during the period right after Nixon's election up until Kent State in 1970 that I came to realize how many incredible artists were producing incredible songs all over the map, even as their scenes and lives were deteriorating.

While the ideals of the hippie movement were certainly noble, it's hard to believe looking back from our present situation that anybody thought the loftier ambitions were at all attainable. Was it a frustration with the slowness of change that caused not only some of the social madness of 1969, but also fueled some of the more adventurous music of that year?
BP: The first thing I attribute much of the turmoil to is the draft lottery, which started in December, 1969. Self-preservation is a powerful motivation. By 1969, the "alternate culture" was filled with neophytes and bandwagon groupies, trying to latch on to the latest escapist fad, i.e. free love, free drugs. After being tolerated since 1965, when the Baby Boom, en masse, went to and then dropped out of college, Nixon's election meant an end to the coddling, eliminating all but the staunchest believers. Musically, it was a powerful backdrop to create against. Some of it was just an attempt to keep up with audience expectations, to compete with others in the process of writing nine-minute album cuts. The creativity was prodigious; 40 years later a lot of great stuff has been buried.

Everybody remembers Woodstock as a festival celebrating peace and love and brotherhood. Is that too romantic a view of what it really was, and ultimately, because it didn't change the world, did that lead to what happened at Altamont?
BP: Well, peace, love and brotherhood is what the promotional poster said. I think most people were there for the music and perhaps to see some naked bodies. But I do think it led to Altamont, because the people in San Francisco thought they were the only ones who knew how to throw a proper world-changing rock festival (a la Monterey). The fact that everything pointed to canceling it only underscores the competitive fires raging in all aspects of the music scene.


1969 was a watershed year for records. So many innovative artists brought forth some of their greatest work, and some released very political records. Have you been able to come up with reasons why this year in particular saw such a creative explosion? Had the seeds for it been sown earlier?
BP: The liberation of the FM radio band in 1966 paved the way for the airplay of album tracks, previously unwanted guests on AM radio. In 1967 the Beatles came out with Sgt. Pepper, with no AM singles. All those Baby Boomers in college suddenly saw rock music as a respectable art form, cheaper than making movies, less lonely than writing the great novel, less effete than theater, etc. By 1969 FM was expanding past its initial "underground" beginnings. Also, the "underground press" was morphing into the rock press, with hyper-literate rock scholars ready to bestow 20,000-word essays on the latest concept album (guaranteeing more groupies at the next concert). So you had a lot of practitioners, a new delivery system, a new communication system, record labels lavishing money, etc. There was great experimentation (Captain Beefheart) and great schlock (The Shaggs) and everything in between. There was the feeling of vindication for those who'd been following their favorites in the underground as they broke through. All this competition produced great excitement.

Talk about the Last Poets and their work in 1969. It seems their impact on hip-hop has been largely forgotten.
BP: They were definitely rap incarnate, prison poets setting their inner fires to rhyme. Working closely with the Last Poets, Gil Scott-Heron wrote the prophetic "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," a classic screed, with a good beat (that you could take a good beating to). Their language was as violent as their calls for revolution. As the deejay Frankie Crocker said about George Clinton's Funkadelic, "We were too black for white folks. We were even too black for most black folks." Although, I have to say, the ability to use profanity in popular songwriting is not a revolution I am particularly proud of.

With so many combinations of musical styles — from jazz and rock to psychedelia and soul and country-rock and proto-punk — being thrown into a pot and mixed together, was it too much for the music-buying public to handle? Because not too long afterward, you see the rise of arena-rock and a sort of blandness taking hold.
BP: I blame that on the powers that ran FM radio and made it into AM radio in less than a decade, winnowing out the exotic in favor of the formulaic at every turn. True, the sheer abundance of product in the marketplace was a drain on the average budget of the average unemployable hippie (or his or her parents) but for a while just listening to the radio could be an extremely satisfying artistic experience.

What was the impact of the rise of the underground press and FM radio in 1969? Did it, in some way, set in motion what would happen years later with punk?
BP: I think I answered most of this in the question above on 1969 being a watershed year. But I'm not sure I see the connection with punk. Punk was a reaction (as are most movements in rock and other art forms) against the perceived (and actual) irrelevance of the preceding generation of entrenched artists, i.e. The Ramones coming up with two-minute singles in an era of eight-minute guitar solos, etc. By the mid- to late-'70s even the rock press and FM radio was the establishment; I'm not sure Patti Smith got much airplay on the radio. By the early '80s Reagan and MTV were ensconced, thus making punk even more of an underground treasure to its adherents. So I'd say punk never did benefit from the kind of twin delivery systems the underground rock of the '60s (backed by the enterprising Baby Boomers) was able to create; maybe that's why its mystique has aged a lot better than the music from the '60s.

What lessons should we take from the Woodstock era and what happened all around it in 1969?
BP: As John Sebastian told me, "We're cannibalizers of our own culture. No sooner was there a Woodstock then there were a dozen natural yogurt companies cropping up." Now it's reduced to a slogan for commercials. Now "Hair!" is seen as a major artistic statement. Anyway, the one lesson to learn is that all musical eras end, some more painfully than others, some with a lot less psychic investment. Fans of the Big Band Era thought their music was "here to stay" as well and did all they could to prevent rock ’n’ roll from happening. But the '60s underground alternate culture and the music it produced was a kind of paradigm for future movements: long underground activity, with a ferment of creativity, followed by a big commercial explosion, followed by the deaths of some key players and the bloating irrelevance of others (Neil Young excluded). 

Backbeat Books is an imprint of Hal Leonard.

To Bruce Swedien, it was, as he says, "just another work day." He can say that now, but when the man who served as the engineer on all of Michael Jackson's solo albums from "The Wiz" soundtrack on was working on Michael Jackson's Dangerous album, he never knew what to expect when he arrived at the studio.






"I remember one day coming to the studio, and we were in Larrabee in Los Angeles," recalls Swedien. "I pulled up in my Bronco and parked it in my parking spot, and there was security everywhere. I mean, it was ridiculous. I couldn't get in the studio. Well, I finally did, of course, and I got in the studio and it turns out that Michael had brought Nancy Reagan to visit that day ... and Ron."

Surprised, Swedien went with the flow and had an enjoyable time with the former President and the First Lady. "We had such a great time. They are the nicest people, and Ronald Reagan is really quiet," says Swedien. "And Nancy is such fun. And it was obvious that she and Michael were dear friends."

That wasn't the only time Swedien was starstruck. "One day I came to the studio and over in the corner of the control room, there was Elizabeth Taylor. And Michael looked at me and smiled ... "

It was just another work day. Swedien, who partnered with producer extraordinaire Quincy Jones on a number of projects over the years (although Jones sat out the Dangerous project) has completed work on the book "In the Studio with Michael Jackson," and it is due out July 27. Swedien is just one of the many interviews planned for the next Goldmine cover story, which will be on Michael Jackson. Swedien's memories of the deceased King Of Pop are also included in a tribute story to Michael that appeared in the July 31 print edition of Goldmine.

What could possibly go better with a new song by the slightly skewed alternative-rock favorites The Breeders than roller derby? After all, wasn't the mayhem of the sound collage "Cannonball," a big hit in the '90s for the band, really just a sonic version of the contact sport?

Absolutely a match made in the most heavenly of skatoriums, the ladies of Arch Rival Roller Girls in St. Louis are the stars of a YouTube video for "Fate To Fatal," the namesake of a four-song EP The Breeders released all by themselves — without record-label backing — in April.






When trying to come up with ways of getting the word out to the world that The Breeders were back, they weren't sure what kind of visual content they could use to accompany the song.

At first, they thought about getting help from graphic artist Chris Glass, who not only designed the cover art for the Fate To Fatal EP — released both as a digital download and a limited-edition 12-inch vinyl EP — but also created the logo for President Obama's "American Recovery and Reinvestment Act." Kelley Deal, Kim's sister, had other ideas.

"She had run into an old friend [who] stages her roller derby league in St. Louis, Mo.," says Kim. "And Kelley just had been thinking that it would be really cool just to bring a camera in and that could be our video, the girls skating and lips synching. So she drove to St. Louis, Kelley did, and the bass player [Mando Lopez], who owns a really good camera. He's out in Los Angeles, and he flew into St. Louis. And they rented out this skatorium where the girls do the games. And they had the St. Louis Arch Rivals skating ... our friend helped organize it and Kelley did, too. And it turned out really good. It was just my sister and the bass player and a friend of his with the camera. They skated all day long evidently and they filmed it, but it turned out really awesome. I really like it. It turned out good."

And the Breeders' connection with roller derby doesn't end there. On their upcoming tour, which begins Aug. 5 in Newport, Ky., at the Southgate House, the band will be inviting local roller derby clubs to come out to their shows.

"We thought it would be cool if they wanted to ... it's hard to know when their games are," says Kim. "So we told them that if they wanted to pass out any information about the games and stuff, they can. They can set up a booth and get the schedules out."

Along with the title track, The Breeders' most recent release features three other tracks: a lush recording of "The Last Time," which features guest vocalist Mark Lanegan [Screaming Trees, Queens Of The Stone Age]; "Pinnacle Hollow," done in Kim Deal's basement on a four-track with the tape hiss kept in; and a Bob Marley and The Wailers' song titled "Chances Are."

Dates for the Breeders' tour are as follows:

AUGUST
 5 Southgate House, Newport, KY     (Times New Viking supports)
 6 The Vogue, Indianapolis, IN     (Times New Viking supports)
 7 Blueberry Hill, St. Louis, MO     (Times New Viking supports)
 8 Bottleneck, Lawrence, KS     (Times New Viking supports)
 9 Showdown, Omaha, NE     (Times New Viking supports)
11 Fine Line Music Cafe, Minneapolis, MN     (Whispertown 2000 supports)
12 Majestic Theatre, Madison, WI      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
13 Metro, Chicago, IL      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
14 Crofoot Ballroom, Pontiac, MI      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
15 Lee's Place, Toronto, ONT      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
17 Paradise Ballroom, Boston, MA      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
18 Bowery Ballroom, New York, NY      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
19 Bowery Ballroom, New York, NY      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
21 Black Cat, Washington, D.C.      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
22 Diesel Club Lounge, Pittsburgh, PA      (Whispertown 2000 supports)
23 Newport Music Hall, Columbus, OH      (Whispertown 2000 supports)

Look for more on the Breeders on www.goldminemag.com and here in the World's Forgotten Boy blog. Check out www.myspace.com/thebreeders for the latest on what's happening with the band.

Marshall Crenshaw has been away too long. Jaggedland , which arrived June 2 via 429 Records, is his latest set of blissful, well-crafted pop-rock magic, and it's worth the six-year wait from 2003's studio effort What's In The Bag?






But why the long time span between records? Well, he's been a little busy.

"A couple months after my last record came out I got a call from a longtime friend, Wayne Kramer, inviting me to play on the DKT/MC5 reunion tour," explains Crenshaw. "That was tons of fun, and an honor. A short while after that we moved into this house that we’re in now; I set up a studio during the first year and started writing and recording, very gradually at first. Somewhere between now and then I got involved with a film, “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story,” wrote the theme song, wound up with a Grammy nomination and a Golden Globe nomination. That’s the 20 second soundbite answer I guess …  "

Kramer is part of the band that backs Crenshaw on Jaggedland, which features a rich, evocative instrumental with the same title. Along with the beguiling first single, "Live And Learn," It's a lovely little interlude and one of the best parts of the new record.

Talking about how the song developed, Crenshaw said, "A few years ago I did the music for a PBS documentary about Yogi Berra; then a short time after that I did some instrumental cues for 'Sex and The City' and really got on a roll at that time, writing, recording, and stockpiling instrumental music, which I love doing. 'Jaggedland' started as a really fast tune, like in a chase scene or something (in fact the fast version is in a film called 'God Is D*ad,' which is on the festival circuit). Then I got the idea to do a slow-motion version and it took on a completely different character, a dark atmosphere."

For more on Crenshaw's newest release, go to www.429records.com. And watch this space to read more from our interview with Crenshaw.

Marshall Crenshaw
Jaggedland
429 Records
4 stars

What was the last perfect pop song that nestled in your ears and invoked squatters' rights in your head? That last truly flawless diamond that sparkled and shined brighter than all the rest of the gems in this vast landscape of recorded music that's comprised the last 30 years.





Perhaps it was Marshall Crenshaw's "Someday, Someway," the song Buddy Holly never got the chance to write. Stung ever so slightly by bittersweet longing, "Someday, Someway" caught the New Wave world of the early '80s by surprise with its melodic charm, sing-along chorus and undeniable hooks. It was a simple, honest statement of purpose, and the ideal introduction to the pop craftsmanship of a man who came of age at the wrong time.

2:53 of pure bliss, "Someday, Someway" was the crown jewel in Crenshaw's much-beloved self-titled debut. From the sound of Jaggedland, Crenshaw's latest, it appears the pop-oriented tunesmith hasn't lost the touch. With the highly respected Emil Richards on hand, lending a turquoise shimmer to certain tracks with his watery vibraphone and adding smart percussive touches here and there, just as he's done for the likes of Frank Sinatra, Brian Wilson and Judee Sill over the years, Jaggedland is a stylish, sophisticated, and sometimes raucous, set of songs. Typical of a Crenshaw release, every song — make that almost every song — is immaculately crafted, enhanced by clever guitar parts and richly evocative, incisive lyrics.

"Passing Through" is a swooning, dreamy mix of languid steel and baritone guitar, shakers and maracas, and Crenshaw's world-wise vocals that's absolutely beautiful in every way. Not drifting quite as lazily are "Long Hard Road" and "Sunday Blues," which feature tighter hooks and more of a mix of brilliantly understated country and Beatlesque pop elements. A lovely instrumental interlude, the title track is mesmerizing and a satisfying break from the three-minute pop song Crenshaw has mastered time and time again, while the twilight-shaded opener "Right On Time" is an urgent, exotic surge of noirish energy and a yearning for salvation.

Harder edged, "Stormy River" and "Gasoline Baby" pull you away from the reverie of "Passing Through" with tough, somewhat angry rock, and they're a bit jarring and not quite as seamless and complete as they ought to be. Still, they are just brief interruptions on a journey through one man's heart and head — with meditations on our troubled times and what a joy and a burden love can be — that's not only pleasant and sometimes funny and wonderfully (see "Someone Told Me"), but also touching and as real as real gets. Drummer Jim Keltner and guitarist Wayne Kramer help keep the musicianship crisp and lively, and contribute to an overall sense of ... well, professionalism. And while that might turn some off, with Crenshaw, it just leads to a performance and a recording that is of the highest quality.

Watch this space for an interview with Crenshaw.

Duck MacDonald has been Blue Cheer's guitarist for almost a quarter century now. It's been a good working arrangement, MacDonald being adept at churning out the kind of powerful, mind-melting riffs Blue Cheer has always been known for.







Interestingly, however, MacDonald's introduction to Blue Cheer wasn't a pleasant one. As Cheer's original bassist Dickie Peterson recalls, they almost came to blows over libations.

"Well, we were at a place in Buffalo, N.Y. And we sort of got in a little argument. We were both waiting to go into the studio. There was a big huge game room in the studio facilities. [On] floors of the studios, they have places to sort of hang out, and Duck was in there with his bottle of Jack Daniels, and him and I were talking. This was in the ’80s. And I made a statement to the effect that if you don’t know anything about the blues, you can’t play rock ’n’ roll. And he, of course, challenged me on this. But I had heard Duck play, and I knew that he used the blues. I know he did. And so we got in an argument about this. He went into the studio. I drank his whiskey. When he came out, I was thoroughly drunk. And he’s thoroughly pissed off. And he’s much bigger than I am. So I figured I’d replace the whiskey. And then about two to three years later, I needed a guitar player. And I knew that I had a chemistry with Duck. Even though it started out the way it started, I knew that we understood each other. And I finally got hold of his producer, Arnie Goodman, and asked if he knew where Duck was, and he said Duck was sitting right next to him. And Duck got on the phone, and I says, 'Hey, look, I says I’m going on a tour in Europe in three days. Do you wanna go?' And he thought for a very short period of time, and he said, 'Yeah.' And we’ve been together ever since."

MacDonald's guitar mastery can be seen on the new Blue Cheer DVD titled "Blue Cheer Rocks Europe," which, as it stands, is the only complete concert footage of Blue Cheer. Also included is a vintage photo gallery and a colorful interview with Peterson, in which he recounts the MacDonald episode.

We have an interview with Peterson coming up in the Aug. 14 print issue of Goldmine in which he talks about his relationship with Gut, the Hell's Angel member who once managed Blue Cheer, and the year 1969, which saw Cheer release two albums and undergo a number of personnel changes.

For more on the DVD, visit rainmanrecords.com.

Picture, if you will, a track listing for a covers album of '70s tunes re-made by The Bangles' Susanna Hoffs and power-pop songsmith Matthew Sweet. "Go All The Way" by The Raspberries is a given, and no doubt, there'll be a Big Star track in there — "Back Of A Car" or something similar. And you'll probably get a Todd Rundgren number ... or maybe two.






But, what about Yes' "I've Seen All Good People: Your Move/All Good People"? Didn't see that one coming, did you? Well, Hoffs and Sweet pull off such a surprise on their new Under The Covers Vol. 2 collection, which hits the streets via Shout! Factory on July 21. For Hoffs, re-doing the famous Yes song was a trip back in time.

"I just remember back in the '70s my brother was really into Yes, and I remember really getting into those records and kind of hanging out with my brother and his friends and listening to them," says Hoffs. "It was sort of the heyday of the prog-rock thing, and I just remember loving 'All Good People.' There was something so beautiful about it, so melodic."

To Hoffs, Yes is a band that hasn't gotten enough credit for its pop sensibilities.

"I think Yes is sort in some ways I guess in the pop world an underrated band in the sense that they are a rock band, but they had very, very delicious melodies," offers Hoffs. "The music is very beautiful."

And so is the version done by Hoffs and Sweet this time around, on the pair's second album of cover songs — Vol. 1 featured songs from the 1960s. Sweet vocal harmonies by Hoffs and Sweet give the song a breezy, California pop feel, and Hoffs says Sweet did an incredible job deconstructing the complicated song and piecing it back together for their new record.

"It was pretty amazing to tear apart the very complicated 'All Good People' song," says Hoffs, "and Matthew's an amazing talent in that he did all the bass parts, he figured all the bass parts out, and he did the keyboard parts, and we got Steve Howe to play guitar, which really made the track special for us."

Howe played his guitar parts overseas in England and sent them back to Hoffs and Sweet by computer. Howe, according to Hoffs, was "very complimentary" when he heard Hoffs and Sweet's cover version of "All Good People."

To learn more about Under The Covers Vol. 2, visit shoutfactory.com.

Having been in Kansas for so long, the men of Native Window are acutely aware that comparisons between their new band and their old one are bound to be made. Those concerns didn't matter much to Phil Ehart and company.

In talking about his new side project, the longtime Kansas drummer revealed that for Native Window the biggest issue they faced was coming up with an identity, especially since they had to write new material on their own and couldn't rely on Kansas songwriters Kerry Livgren and Steve Walsh to feed them songs. Because of that, however, Native Window — comprised of Ehart, Richard Williams, singer/bassist Billy Greer and violinist David Ragsdale — is very much a collaborative effort.

"Oh very much ... yes, yes, because we didn't really have a main writer," says Ehart. "We didn't have Kerry writing and Steve writing. You know, when you lose two guys like that ... then we go okay, well now what are we going to do? How are we going to do this exactly? What is Native Window? What's it going to sound like? So what we did first of all is we had a couple outside songs. Since we didn't have any new material, we found a couple of outside songs that we thought, 'Well, let's go in and play these and record these, and just see what they sound like. What do we sound like without keyboards and without Steve's singing and without Kerry's writing? What do the four of us sound like?' And so, we liked what we heard, and we moved to another song. Then we started writing our own stuff. And the only criteria that we had was that it had to sound good acoustically. You know, Rich sits down and starts playing it on acoustic guitar and Billy starts singing it, and if it sounds good, then let's go from there. And so we were very fortunate that we were able to write a lot of the stuff ourselves, and we also collaborated with a couple other songwriters in coming up with stuff, so we thought we really had a good, you know, a good batch of 10 songs that very much represents what we wanted to do."

Listening to Native Window, you'll find the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But, swampy, stomping rock efforts like "Blood In The Water" bring to mind Creedence Clearwater Revival more than Kansas. Still, that unmistakeable Midwestern progressive-rock sound that Kansas crafted is alive and well in Native Window.

"There is a thread there," says Ehart. "There's not a whole lot of rock bands that have violin. Taking David Ragsdale's violin from Kansas and putting it on Native Window definitely makes it have a Kansas connection there, as well as you just happen to have the drummer, guitar player and bass player also. So there is a thread. There are similarities, just because it's the same people. But it's not like we sat down and went, 'You know, let's do a jazz album. Or, let's do a country album.' I mean, it's just rock music. This stuff rocks pretty good, and there are some ballads and stuff, but it's different. I mean, it's the same, but it's different. Because there are people missing, that makes it different. And then what we did to fill in those missing parts I think is what makes it work."

Taking on new roles also presented challenges, especially when it came to vocals.

"I mean, the three of us — myself, Rich and Ragsdale — have never really been what you'd call background singers," says Ehart. "So to go in and just go, 'Oh, well, we're going to create all these background vocals,' it took a lot of work, and we kind of surprised ourselves that we could pull it off that way. So, again, that was a challenge in itself, too."

To learn more about Native Window and to hear clips off their new self-titled album, go to www.nativewindow.com. And look for more from our interview with Ehart in this space in the coming days and weeks.

The crowd at the 1970 Isle Of Wight Festival turned ugly on several occasions. In fact, acclaimed director Murray Lerner, who filmed the event, remembers one one young rabblerouser getting up onstage and calling the concert "a psychedelic concentration camp."






"Which I thought was a great line," chuckles Lerner, whose film of the Moody Blues' legendary performance is the subject of a new DVD, "The Moody Blues: Live At The Isle Of Wight Festival 1970."

Part of the reason it felt so confining and oppressive was the fences organizers put up to stop people from getting in for free. They didn't work.

"It was public land, actually, and they tried to build fences there, but they weren't allowed to really," says Lerner. "The fences were a silly exercise."

All they manage to do was incite a crowd that had, at times, abandoned the concepts of peace and love that many were still clinging to then. Lerner was there to film it all, the ugliness and the beauty, that last bit courtesy of the Moody Blues, who played one of the most beguiling sets of the famous festival.

"The entire audience was captivated by the Moody Blues, just as they were for Hendrix," says Lerner.

Big picture, Lerner set out to do more than just capture the amazing shows put on by such rock heavyweights as The Who, along with Hendrix and the Moodies.

"We were there two weeks before the festival and two weeks afterward to get the ambiance of what was going on — the political pressures and the personal pressures, the psychological pressures, and trying to get a portrait of youth in England at that time," recalls Lerner. "And I felt that the, what do you call it, the idealism of the festival, of the music, was being sort of ... not crushed, but squeezed [by the] commercialism of the music industry. That's the theme of the film."

Even the Moodies railed about their then-recent troubles with record companies during their set. But the real anger was found in the huge mob that had gathered for the festival. And there were times when Lerner and his crew felt they were in danger.

"Once in a while, I think they pinpointed us to get angry at, but usually, they felt sympathetic to us, but once in a while, in the dark, on the hill, it got a little scary," says Lerner. "With a small crew of three — I remember that, 'cause they had pushed down the fences and had pieces of iron linkage — one kid was ready to come at us with the iron. And another one said, 'No, leave them alone. They're okay.' That worried me."

Still, Lerner and company carried on, and you can see their work on this new DVD. For more information, go to www.eaglerockent.com.

Video evidence of Blue Cheer's live prowess isn't easy to come by. Perhaps that's why when the German TV program Rockapalast filmed a 2008 concert of the proto-metal pioneers in 2008, with all the glorious fuzz-toned distortion and smoldering stoner-rock fire the boys could muster, the band's management leapt at the chance to turn it into a DVD.






On June 23, the "Blue Cheer Rocks Europe" DVD was unleashed by Rainman Records. Peterson explains how the DVD came about.

"Actually, when we were on a tour, through Ron Rainey our management, it came up that there was a show in Bonn, Germany, for the Rockpalast that was going to be a seven-camera video shoot for the TV show," he says. 'And so they made a deal with them and got ahold of the footage of the concert, which, with the help of (Andrew) Duck (MacDonald), my guitar player, the remixed it. You know, because it was mixed for TV, which is actually a different kind of a mix. And so they bought the tape, or bought the video, [and] remixed it. I did this interview, and we did some commentary and some different slide work that was collected, and then it was put together. It's the first-ever DVD of Blue Cheer in almost 50 years."

That, in and of itself, is cause for celebration, especially because, unlike many of the groups from the '60s still slogging it out on the road, Blue Cheer's most recent work is just as massive and as thrilling as just about anything the band recorded in its heyday — save for Vincebus Eruptum, the band's classic 1968 debut album.

With this DVD out, however, it actually begs the question: What other video footage of Blue Cheer is out there? Is there any vintage stuff from back in the day?

"There's scattered footage around," says Peterson. That includes video of Blue Cheer playing a rock show in Germany — "Or was it Belgium?" asks Peterson, who's still not sure what country it originated in — in the '60s that boasts a punishing version of the band's Top 40 hit "Summertime Blues." Could there be another DVD of more Blue Cheer stuff on the way? Maybe.

When interviewed recently for Goldmine, Peterson said, "You know, one of the things that we've done over the years is we have such a supportive base of Blue Cheer enthusiasts, you know. I usually don't use the word "fan" because it's a little demeaning. I don't like it, you know. But we usually call our people freaks ...

That's freaks in the best sense of the word.

"Oh, of course," he says. "Freaks are great, you know. We love 'em, because people who aren't freaks are actually kind of boring. They're just normal, and we're abnormal. But over the years, we've collected from Blue Cheer freaks footage and I'm not absolutely positive, but I think Decca has a plan of making a montage video. I don't know what that'll be like. I have no idea. But the pieces are all sitting around. We just haven't done that yet."

In the meantime, fans can immerse themselves in the acid-rock madness of "Blue Cheer Rocks Europe," which includes not only commentary from Peterson you can listen to while watching the concert and an interview with the Blue Cheer bassist, but also a photo gallery of cool vintage photos of the band from throughout the years.

Visit Rainman Records to find out how to order the DVD.

Often quiet and introspective, but always on the verge of bubbling over with deep emotions, Lenny Bosh's debut CD, Thoughts I Collected, is a richly constructed acoustic affair with lush vocal harmonies and spotless production values. The product of one man's journey to the center of his own soul, Thoughts I Collected treats its subject matter with care and tenderness. Not something you'd expect from someone who was once a self-professed metal head.

Being a family man with kids, Bosh had always dreamed of making his own CD. Finding the time to do it, however, while helping to manage two young children, was another matter. What helped was having his own studio in Coventry, Conn., known as Sound Of Fury Studios. In trying to get his project — inspired by his producing a CD for his church — off the ground, Bosh found himself stuck in his tracks, despite having a house out in the sticks to retreat to and write.

Until he could unblock whatever was holding him back, Bosh, whose fondness for musical equipment and gear led him to build that studio, found himself recording other bands. Then, a friend, Greg Dicrosta, brought in his friend's band, Damone, to record a song for the Major League Soccer team the New England Revolution. In the process, Bosh developed a friendship with Damone's songwriter and guitarist Mike Woods.

For Bosh, getting to this point has taken him on a journey with many detours. The one that took him furthest away from music was when he took over his father's company, a business his dad had built with his own hands. Music was put on hold, though it would occupy his thoughts over the years. Having children sparked his passion for it, and as life began to become simpler and less hectic, Bosh found himself writing more and more.

And now, he's ready to give Thoughts I Collected over to the world. Written and recorded in the singer/songwriter tradition, Bosh incorporates some vintage synthesizers and electric guitars into the mix, creating a sound that's transfixing and sometimes haunting. But there is a lively quality to Bosh's acoustic strum that lifts these songs from fits of melancholy and into the light of higher consciousness. Here, Bosh reflects on the making of a record that's sure to touch the souls of many.

I read where you were initially a lover of '80s metal. When did your acoustic side begin to emerge?
Lenny Bosh: My acoustic side was probably there first. Since I grew up listening to what my parents were listening to at the time — music like The Eagles, Elvis, and Kris Kristofferson. But when I got my first guitar, I was never interested in playing '50s rock and roll or the acoustic things — I just wanted to rock out. So it starts with "Smoke on the Water" and goes right into '80s metal, which is where my "scene" was at the time.  So it's picking away at Motley Crue or Whitesnake or even Ted Nugent.

Being that your mom was a big Kris Kristofferson fan, you saw him play a number of times as a teen. What, if anything, do you take from him that perhaps you apply to your own work? 
LB: Interestingly enough Kris is still touring, and I saw him in New York a few weekends ago. Amazing and intimate because it was just him and his guitar for a few hours. He made some mistakes, forgot some lyrics, and his hand was cramping up, but it was so genuine and real. He's just a dude who writes great songs, and that honesty just pours out. I'd like to think that honesty comes across with my music. I don't write about things I don't know. I don't write about dragons. I write about my life in such a way that those close to me might have a hard time figuring out what I am saying so I can save my image a little (laughs). Seriously, I don't like to spell things out too clearly because some of the issues I talk about are very personal — and I do want people to get what they want out of my songs.

When did you start writing songs?
LB: Probably around 16 or 17. I picked up the guitar when I was about 15 years old, dabbled for about a half a year, then took six months in lessons. At lessons I would bring the latest songs in and have the guy show me how to play them. I was a tab-o-holic — and used my dad's copier (which was expensive back in the day) for literally thousands of pages of tab from friends books, magazines I borrowed or wherever I could get them for free. Now it's all online — back in the day it was guerilla tactics that ruled out. After lessons and a year or two of learning other peoples songs, I really started hearing songs in my head, and I had an incredible itch to talk about what I felt. The only way to feel the satisfaction of scratching that itch was to do my own songs. I realized then, too, that it was time to stop playing other peoples songs so it didn't influence me a lot.  I also wanted to get my own style of playing guitar, singing and writing. I knew JUST BY LISTENING to music I was being influenced so I wanted to bypass any efforts to continue to drill in other people's music into my brain's muscle memory. So even to this day I rarely sit down and figure out other peoples songs.  Though there are songs that I just like to sing — like "Come Sail Away" or "What's Going On" by Four Non Blondes. When I was in bands, there was always the temptation to do cover songs, and it was tough for me to popularity-wise sway away from that. As I am older though I realize if it's in my head its probably different someway from someone else's tune.

Being a family man, how did that affect not only the writing of this new album, Thoughts I Collected, but the recording of it as well? 
LB: Family effects everything. Whether you have your own children or not we are all children of someone. We take what our parents say to us totally different than anyone on earth, and the relationships are complex. My immediate family — wife and kids — is a huge chunk in my life. I watch my kids grow and get mesmerized at life and innocence. It forces me to reflect on my relationship with my parents. It forces me to appreciate the little things, and it gives me a sense of wonder. It forces me to look at my relationship with my wife. Kids just have a way of bringing out the details in life.  It's as if my life were black and white before I started my family — not everything is in color. So you get to look at EVERYTHING you saw before — and feel different about it this time around.

The physical recording of the release was affected by my children. Currently they are 4 and 5, and you never get more than hour or two totally free to do anything. That's not enough to plan, write or record. So hiring Mike Woods was a necessity. I felt like I HAD TO go into the studio — close the blinds and then force myself to get the four-to-six-hour recording jaunts if Mike was here getting paid to complete a job. Mike was very understanding and a big help. We recorded about six hours a day — then at night after the kids went to sleep, he would edit the day's recordings and prep the next day's activities.

You have this home studio. When did you build it and why did it make sense for you to have one?
LB: In my old house my wife and I split a room — she did her crafts in one half and my studio took the other half. Quickly though, I ended up with 80 percent of the room, and she had a desk and a chair. I bought a piece of land and we built a house on it, and part of our initial plan was that I wanted a studio and she wanted her own craft room. So we planned it so we are across a hall from one another and away from the bedrooms. I originally said I just want one big room that's it — so I have a 20x20 cathedral ceiling room with a vocal booth and an equipment closet. But after a year of building, once we moved in, I said, "I want a drum room downstairs and place for amps." So I built another room downstairs that houses the drums and all the guitar cabinets — which are in isolation cabinets. My kids can sleep while we record bass, vocals, drums ... you name it. It's sweet like that.

I am, like most musicians, a gear collector, so just having a space to put all that stuff was necessary. But it made sense to have a studio because it's what I do. Some guys might have a home office, or a library or reading room, but for me I just wanted a place that I could play guitar and record. It ended far more sophisticated than originally planned but if you know me, I do many things at B grade level. When I do something, I do it to the max. So now Sound of Fury Studios (soundoffury.com) has become the place for people I know to record. I get picky on who's allowed here because it is so special, but everyone that records here wants to come back. It's like a productive dream vacation for everyone.

Talk about your relationship with the band Damone, and especially Mike Woods, who produced your album.
LB: I took a Pro Tools class years ago, befriended the instructor Greg Dicrosta, who is probably one of the best engineers in Connecticut. He helped me design, set up, wire and plan my studio. If there is a problem I can't fix, he is the first and last person I have to call. Greg is originally from Wallingford, Conn., and Mike Woods is from that area also. When they were younger, they were in a ska band together. Everyone in that band went on to do something in music for a living, but that's another story. So Mike kept in contact with Greg and didn't like to do business with friends, but Greg convinced him to do one song here. They needed it done quick so Greg as engineer and my studio were the only options. It was a song they did for the Major League Soccer team The New England Revolution. In the end, they really enjoyed it here. I enjoyed them here and the exposure for my kids. I am really close friends with Mike Woods and Mike Vazquez (bass player) from that band. Mike was looking to do some producing work, and I had the idea of him helping me record my project. Mike was using an archaic system for recording his own demos, and I said, "Come produce me, learn Protools, get paid, I will hook you up with a Protools rig and you can learn at Sound of Fury." At first he thought I was doing him a favor, but it definitely ended up the other way around. To do my first CD he will always have a special place in my heart. But he was here for at least four straight months if you add up all the time over a half-year period. You get really close to someone spending that much time together. I think God put him in my life for a reason and to help achieve my goal was one of them. 

Lately we are working on more stuff and a song together. He does a lot of the leg work for his demos at his house, then will do the guitars here for example to get a better sound. So he still comes here to clean up. That said, we're close enough now when I went away on vacation he watched the house and my three dogs. So we are very close now.

What is your favorite song on the new album and why?
LB: They are of course ALL very important to me. I like different songs for different reasons. I have a few songs I probably like a little more because of the outcome than others. "Outside Looking Inside" is one of the last songs I wrote as far as Thoughts I Collected. I find the lead vocals in the verses to be my best: One, my comfort level was better; two, the key its in; and three, I had bought a new microphone, and it was left on by accident for over a week (in between breaks). I bought a U47, the flagship microphone for Telefunken USA and probably the nicest microphone in the world being produced. It sounded so amazing after it was on for a week. As a side note my microphone was built right after Mutt Lange's. 

Having your children's voices on the record is a nice touch. How did that come about?
LB: Well we had the kids on sessions when they would come in and break the recording up. Sometimes they wanted to come in and "do what daddy did." I had some stuff from when they were younger also. Mike was adamant about putting lots of that stuff on there because of what the CD was about and where I was in my life. I ended up buying a portable recorder too and catching some great moments. There was a lot more, but after sitting down with the songs in completion, I told Mike it's too much. That people who listened to it might like it in parts but not on every song. So we trimmed those down as part of the mixing process. The opening intro is a collection of old and new kid voices, laughs and cries, one of my daughters saying "oh Woodsie (Mike's nickname)" and the sound my gate makes when hitting the keypad and that person saying "access granted." I almost called the CD Access Granted.

Having a day job and being a dad, where do you find time to write, record and practice? Does it force you to become really disciplined about your work?
LB: Let me answer this question from the back and work my way forward. I am not very disciplined. I don't concentrate well on music or really work it out for days at a time. I write when it comes. I was never able to sit and go, "I am going to write a song today." But there are times when I sit down, and I just know something is coming out — I better catch it. I am by no means a shredder so I usually play an hour or two a day five days a week. It ends up usually just putting down some rhythm tracks, then soloing over those. Very different than acoustic things. The acoustic guitar is something I just pick up and play for 15 minutes, then go do a chore, head to work, go to drop the kids off or something. I prioritize my life as much as possible. And it needs constant adjustment. I have several businesses and Sound of Fury is more of a money pit than a money maker at this juncture. Recording is the hardest thing for me to do because it takes an incredible amount of time. To record basic acoustic guitars for one track takes probably a full eight hours for me. It might take a professional two to four hours. But, depending on perfection level, that's why high-end, big-label backed productions take a year to make 45 minutes of music. So getting a block of that time is hard for me. I can do two hours, but I have to schedule in more than that. Which means planning around responsibilities that are higher up on the priority list. It works though and it's fun.  Recording is a place to get to know yourself, guys that help you out, and other people like the mastering house. I love to get what is inside of me out in songs, recording that for others to listen to is so special of a feeling. When someone just says, "I really got so and so out of this song," you never think, "Well it took me three weeks to do that." You really think to yourself how special that makes you feel. That someone even spends three minutes on one of your songs, it doesn't get any cooler than that.

What's next for you?
LB: Currently I am working on songs. I would like to come out with another album in a year or so. I would like to have more music on it — meaning more length in time. I would like to have it so my performances are perfect. I want to see what roads this music inside of me will take me down. I have a great life and love of life. I feel incredible blessed and love sharing my spirit with others. 

Of all the greats producer/engineer Eddie Kramer has worked with over the years, perhaps he's identified most with Jimi Hendrix. After all, he engineered every Hendrix album — including such seminal works as Are You Experienced? and Electric Ladyland — while the guitar god was still alive, and even a few more after his death.






As Kramer admits in a recent interview that's going to be published in the July 31 issue of Goldmine, it was his association with Hendrix that probably helped him get hired to run the soundboard at Woodstock.

For someone who helped shape the music for some of the greatest albums in rock history, Kramer doesn't beat his chest about his accomplishments. For example, when asked how he helped Hendrix in the studio, Kramer replied, "Well, I think that the trick is to, with any artist, let the artist be themselves, more so probably with Jimi than most."

And Hendrix made Kramer's job easier by being absolutely dedicated to the studio work involved in making each of his albums. "Certainly he was cool and relaxed and all the rest of that, but more to the point he was very focused and had tremendous concentration in the studio," says Kramer.

Hendrix wasn't the only rock god Kramer helped guide to superstardom. There was also a little band called Led Zeppelin. "Who is that band? Never heard of them (laughs)," jokes Kramer.

Thinking back to Woodstock, it's hard not to think about what Zeppelin would have done at the festival. Would Robert Plant, Jimmy Page and the rest have blown everybody else off the stage? Or would the moment have been too big for them? Not bloody likely, of course. For his part, Kramer doesn't think of such thing. When asked if it was disappointing for him not to have seen them play Woodstock, Kramer responded, in understated way, "No, not really."

In some ways, Hendrix and Page were cut from the same cloth, according to Kramer. And again, that made Kramer's job a whole lot easier when it came to working with Zeppelin on such albums as Led Zeppelin II. "Well, I think when you’re dealing with artists like Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page, two artists who have a very clear vision of what they want to do, it’s much easier working with artists like that," says Kramer.

Outside of the studio, Kramer cut his live recording teeth at the Fillmore East. Obviously, recording there wasn't the same as recording at Woodstock. "Oh, they’re two totally different animals. You have a controlled environment at the Fillmore East and up there, you’re in the middle of a bloody field. I call it 'battlefield recording,'" says Kramer.

Kramer's "battlefield recordings" can be heard in a series of new Woodstock releases from Columbia/Legacy that pair the Woodstock live recordings of performances by Johnny Winter, Janis Joplin, Santana, Jefferson Airplane and Sly And The Family Stone with remastered versions of the 1969 albums those artists put out, including Johnny Winter, I Got Dem 'Ol Kozmic Blues Again Mama!, Santana, Volunteers and Stand!, respectively.

The packaging is elaborate. Each of the selections comes with a full-color poster of the artist performing at Woodstock on one side and a shot of the Woodstock crowd on the other. There's just enough liner notes about each artist and where they were at in their careers to flesh things out, and each of the live CDs features a cover with a vintage image of the artist from Woodstock.

To learn more about these new releases, which include some live recordings that have never been heard before, visit www.woodstock.com or www.legacyrecordings.com.

Among the countless iconic images to come out of Woodstock, one that stands out is that of a colorful micro-bus painted with all the symbols of the peace-and-love generation that has become known as "Light."

Light was a group that included a singer by the name of Robert Grimm, who would later become one of the Four Seasons. It was Grimm who commissioned Dr. Bob Hieronimus to turn the band's drab tour bus into something more ... say, magical.

Eschewing the formless, trippy imagery of psychedelia, Hieronimus wanted his work to say something.

'I had already painted many of what are usually called 'psychedelic' painted cars, growing in popularity at that time," recalls Hieronimus. "Rather than the somewhat meaningless label 'psychedelic,' however, I have always preferred to call my art symbolic, the difference being that all of my designs are carefully mapped out and considered as part of a comprehensive teaching guide with a message. I consider my painted cars to be moving billboards and have driven them myself on and off since 1965."

The so-called Woodstock bus is featured prominently on the cover of the new Krause book "Woodstock: Peace, Music & Memories" by Brad Littleproud and Joanne Hague (visit collect.com to find out how to order it). Most people who are familiar with the bus have seen the famous Associated Press image taken in 1969 at Woodstock of Trudy Morgal and Rick Peters sitting on top of it with their bare feet hanging over the roof.

Soon, people will be able to buy their own Light bus, only in miniature form. A new diecast collector's model of the Woodstock bus is coming out this year by Sun Star Diecast. To learn more, visit www.21stCenturyRadio.com/lightbus.

As for the real thing, Hieroniumus says, "The original bus, unfortunately, was last seen partially being held together by the paint job. Its eventual demise is a bit of a mystery to us in this day and age."

The story of the Woodstock bus will be told in the July 31 edition of Goldmine, which will celebrate the 40th anniversary of the concert.