THESE WERE DIFFERENT times
and the music itself was beginning to change. Glitter and glam still had its
roots firmly planted in rock but the music was starting to gravitate toward
more of a moronic, hypnotic dance beat with four on the floor. The first record
I heard that I liked in that vein was Jive Talking by the Bee
Gees in early 1975. BJ, who was now the main DJ at the Crow’s Nest upstairs at
the Rainbow, would play that record until the grooves wore so thin you could
almost see right through it. Of course, there were other records making their
way to the forefront like: The Hustle by Van McCoy and
the Soul City Symphony, but we already had an introduction to disco
music with Isaac Hayes and Barry White as early as
1971. Let's not forget the Hues Corporation's Rock the Boat and Kung
Fu Fighting by Biddu and Carl Douglas. Thank God for bands like
The Eagles and ELO and of course I was
following all the solo efforts of The Beatles with enthusiastic
devotion.
We were determined not to let what we hoped would be a
brief distraction from the music get in the way of what we wanted to
accomplish. It has always been my creed to play the music I like and eventually
if I still like it most people will like it too. Simple enough? One record that
really spoke to me was John Lennon's Walls and Bridges album.
I remember living this record as if it was speaking to me personally especially
the track, # 9 Dream. It still is speaking. “Was it a dream, was it all
a dream?”. When I walked into a bank on Santa Monica Blvd. and San Vincente,
all I could see was Steel and Glass. So much happened in that square
mile from Santa Monica to Sunset, from Larrabee to La Cienega.
Stephen
was at his usual haunt, The Old World, with his girlfriend, Robin, and his ring
was still on his finger but for how long nobody knew. Stephen noticed that the
genius, George Martin, was sitting having breakfast with a small group of
people. He must have been gawking and whispering to Robin like a little girl at
a Justin Beiber concert. I say must have, because I would have acted the same
way, This is George Martin, the Beatles producer and arranger and the perfect
mentor for Silverspoon, now that Mal Evans had left the project.
Robin wondered what
Stephen was carrying on about and asked, “Who is that man y'all are whispering
about?” Being from New Orleans, she had a lovely Southern drawl that seemed to
cascade off her full ruby lips. Robin was and is, a girl who could always get
what she wanted, especially with men. She did land a major spread in Penthouse
magazine and the ripe old age of seventeen. She might have been eighteen.
Anyway, after it was explained to her who that man was, she said, “I'll be
right back, sugar, don't let that man leave.” She walked across Holloway where
there was an old hippie bookstore that sold cosmic and wonderful little
knickknacks. I think it was called Book Soup, established in 1975 and, to my
amazement, it is still there. When she saw the would-be gift, she knew it would
be perfect. She had it boxed up and when she returned to the restaurant with a small,
gift-wrapped package under her arm, he was still there eating his breakfast.
After placing her coat on the back on the coat-rack she approached Mr. Martin
with the present in hand. Stephen was in shock and awe of her gentle persuasions
but could see that he was smiling and talking to her. He invites her to sit down,
and she is pointing over to the motley young lad at the table with whom she was
just having her repast. As it turns out, George Martin had given her his
personal address to correspond with, and a promise he would listen to the tapes
that she would be sending. He opened the package, and it was a beautiful
crystal apple. Very clever girl, eh?
Stephen
noticed that Mr. Martin was getting up to leave, so he got up from his table,
walked over and introduced himself saying, “Hello Mr. Martin my name is Stephen
Gries and I have a band called Silverspoon that was being produced by Mal
Evans. I also did the charts for a John Lennon song on the recent Keith Moon
solo record called Two Sides Of The Moon. I was wondering if you would
consider producing our group?” George obviously felt awkward being approached
by yet another musician trying to sell his wares for probably the millionth
time. He replied, “I’m terribly sorry but I won't be able to even listen to
your recording for another two years, I'm very busy, but what is the name of
your band? If you want to send it out I will most likely listen to it then.”
Stephen extended his hand and Mr. Martin extended his. They connected. He then
got up from his wooden chair and in less than a minute the famed record
producer was gone.
Unfortunately, this was at the near end of
Robin and Stephen's volatile relationship, and they had another huge fight.
This could have been the last straw in the camel's empty hump or something like
that, but they broke up and the tapes were never sent out. I wish I had been
there, but there is no guarantee that I would have made sure this precious
information was secured. I did find out much later, after the group had been
long broken up, that she still had the letter from Mr. Martin tucked away in
her valise in some storage facility, making claims that it was not too late to
send him a tape of the band, even though nobody has tape machines anymore and
George Martin is well in his eighties and partially, if not completely deaf.
Can you see the behavioral pattern here? Another opportunity squandered. I was
beginning to feel that too many chances were being blown and there may not be any
more coming our way. I was not giving up yet, though I was getting close to the
end of my rope and that rope had been greased and I was slipping down into the
abyss of rock and roll obscurity.
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