In
three monumental instances, an anonymous fan has dramatically impacted a band’s
direction, yet to this date has never come forward, and thus remains unknown –
even after the story has been told countless times, and will be told again here
by me.
Moody Blues. By now the ‘Blues are best known for
pretentious prog-rock masterpieces like December 1967’s Days of Future
Passed. Before that, though, they
had one album, The Magnificent Moodies, full of R&B tunes which
sound nothing like their later material; Justin Hayward and John Lodge weren’t
even in the band. Hayward, the guitarist/vocalist, replaced
Denny Laine (later to wind up in the Wings with Paul McCartney) and bassist/vocalist
Lodge replaced Clint Warwick. Instead of
obvious MB favorites like “Tuesday Afternoon” or “Nights in White Satin”, Ozzy
Osbourne covered “Go Now”, which dates from MB Mark I, so to speak.
What
pushed them into prog territory was a chance encounter with a disgruntled fan
after a show in Stockton,
wherever that is. Despite a new lineup,
they were still doing their R&B set.
The fan bitched at them for a terrible show and a waste of 12 pounds and
a ruined evening with his wife. Drummer
Graeme Edge concurred with the fan’s assessment: a change was needed. After the record label had asked them to do a
cover of Dvorak’s Symphony #9 in stereo, they simply decided to make their own
concept album, about the passage of a day from dawn to midnight: Days of Future Passed.
I
read the account in the most recent PROG magazine article (cover story) on the
Moody Blues. But to date, that
mysterious couple appears lost to history.
Deep Purple. In December 1971, Deep Purple were due to
record the album which would be Machine Head at the Casino in Montreux, Switzerland. Before that, Frank Zappa and the Mothers of
Invention played a concert there, which was interrupted by “some stupid with a
flare gun…burned the place to the ground.”
They had to record at the Grand Hotel next door, using the “Rolling
Truck Stones thing” (mobile unit). One
song which came out of the recording sessions was the story of the whole
debacle, better known as “Smoke on the Water”, with its classic riff. Without the flare gun incident, the album
would have been recorded at the Casino, without “Smoke on the Water”. Who
knows how it would have sounded, but it would have been without the band’s
ultimate anthem.
But
the gun nut? Somehow this person has
never come forward to take the blame – or the credit – after over 40
years.
Pink Floyd. On the 1977 In the Flesh tour for the Animals
album, Pink Floyd were now playing stadiums, far larger venues than the UFO
club in London where they started out as the house band for the London
equivalent of Ken Kesey’s Acid Tests in California – for which the house band
was the Grateful Dead. Instead of
tight, intimate venues, the band faced a vast multitude of faceless fans. Some of these fans were rather rude and
boisterous. Something in Roger Waters
snapped, and at the show in Montreal,
he spit on a fan. Afterwards, shocked
at his own behavior, Waters realized that an invisible wall had somehow erected
– either by circumstances or by Waters himself – between the band and its fans. Waters explored the concept further, into
what we now know of as The Wall album.
To date, I am not aware that the
Spit Victim has ever come forward, perhaps (in French Canadian accent) “ees me,
‘e spit on! I am zee inspiration for ze
Wall! Ou sont mes royalties??”
**
IN fact, since none of these persons have come to light, perhaps they are all…
the same person! A mysterious muse who
remains anonymous, yet spurs the great and mighty minds of music to greater
heights. Someone had to tell the Moody
Blues they sucked, so they would write Days of Future Passed instead of
repeating The Magnificent Moodies yet again. Someone had to shoot off a flare gun in the
Casino, to inspire “Smoke on the Water.”
Someone had to incite Roger Waters to spit on him, so we could enjoy The
Wall.
So,
Mr. Mysterious Musical Muse, a Real Man of Genius, Bud Light salutes you.
No comments:
Post a Comment