I Am Not Hippy Johnny

How Jonathan Richman used his outsider status to revolutionize rock and roll
BY TONY MICHELS

(From Guilt & Pleasure 6: The Sound Issue)

I then realized what my father had said earlier, in the ’50s: “You’re not Jewish, you’re not in the Mafia, you’re not black, and you’re not a hillbilly. Why the fuck do you think you can be in the music business?”
— Interview with Kim Fowley, Ugly Things magazine, 2001

During the early 1970s, Jonathan Richman and his band the Modern Lovers launched a small revolt against the rock world. In a period when rock music had become heavy, mellow, ponderous, and technical — sometimes all at once — the Modern Lovers stood for raw simplicity. They wanted nothing to do with meandering blues jams or ten-minute drum solos or trippy sound effects or forty-foot Marshall amps. Stark, energetic rock and roll was what they played. In his oddly nasal voice, Richman sang about girls, neon signs, highways, and other things he loved. He also sang about things he hated: long hair, bell-bottoms, emotional detachment, and drugs. Within Richman’s idiosyncratic mind, an unlikely assortment of bands — from the Velvet Underground to the Beach Boys to the Stooges to Question Mark and the Mysterians — seemed to coexist happily until he and the Modern Lovers reconfigured them into something better.

Writers and musicians alike have rightly credited Richman as a forerunner of the punk revolution. His minimalism, defiance toward everything “hip,” and knack for writing oddball lyrics (his observation that “Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole” will remain immortal) helped to establish the fundamentals of punk. The Sex Pistols, the Ramones, and many others have acknowledged their debt.

But Richman can also be viewed as one in a line of Jews who exercised a defining influence on rock and roll between the 1950s and 1970s. Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, Phil Spector, Bob Dylan, and Lou Reed (Richman’s main musical hero) immediately come to mind. True, most musicians of Jewish background — and quite likely Richman himself — would object to being classified as Jewish musicians. They didn’t set out to create Jewish music in whatever form. On the contrary: they usually embraced the music of other groups, especially black music. Why should they be pigeonholed by an accidental fact of birth? Yet one can’t help but notice, as Kim Fowley’s father did in the 1950s, the high number of Jews who populated the music business. And then one can’t help but wonder how their Jewish backgrounds might have been relevant to their music.

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For the purpose of making sense of Jonathan Richman, the ideas of Polish-Jewish Marxist Isaac Deutscher are helpful. In his famous 1958 essay “The Non-Jewish Jew,” Deutscher attempted to explain why Jews ranked highly among modern Europe’s most innovative thinkers: people such as Spinoza, Marx, and Freud. He did not attribute this to superior genes or religious values; instead, Deutscher came up with a sociological explanation. Many of Europe’s great iconoclasts, he said, were Jews who had “looked for ideals and fulfillment” beyond Jewry but could not gain full entry into the larger, gentile society. As outsiders twice over, these “non-Jewish Jews” adhered to no entrenched beliefs. They could perceive what members of the majority could not, leading them to develop all sorts of subversive theories in the arts and sciences. Those theories were born out of a certain Jewish condition without expressing any directly Jewish beliefs.

Deutscher did not write “The Non-Jewish Jew” with young, postwar, suburban Jews in mind; he likely would have seen them as too affluent, assimilated, and contented compared to the people he discussed. What Deutscher wouldn’t have been able to perceive, however, was the dissonance many Jews felt in suburban America. Jewish kids typically weren’t captains of the football team or homecoming queens. They weren’t likely to be voted Cutest or Most Desired Desert Island Companion, although they stood a good chance of winning Funniest or Class Treasurer. They worried about their noses and hard-to-manage hair and the humiliation of having to shave a nascent moustache in the seventh grade. They faced occasional taunts and the odd punch. And they suffered through Hebrew school several days a week while their gentile peers ran free. Those suburban Jews were not ostracized, but they didn’t quite fit into the mainstream, either.

They had two basic choices, the Jews of suburbia. They could try to adapt (which entailed its own psychological and practical challenges) or go their own way. Jonathan Richman chose the second route.

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Born in 1951, Richman grew up in the Boston suburb of Natick, in one of its new, predominantly Jewish developments. Nobody would have mistaken him for a juvenile delinquent — he didn’t get into fights or steal cars — but Richman clearly went against the grain. He behaved in strange ways, turning at right angles when he walked or drawing treble dials on his pants, which got him into trouble with his teachers. He was the first and perhaps the only guy at Natick High to wear leather trousers. In songs and interviews, Richman would often complain about feeling lonely and misunderstood as a teenager. “Terrible things” happened in high school, he has said. Still, Richman wasn’t a loner. He had a circle of friends — mostly Hebrew-school malcontents like himself — who shared common interests in art, music, and books. He wasn’t a good student, but he was smart and liked to discuss “cutting-edge stuff” from alternative magazines such as The East Village Other and The Avatar. If Richman derived anything meaningful from his Jewish upbringing, music writer and childhood friend Jay Dobis tells me, it was “a great respect” for learning and culture encouraged by his parents.

Like most teenagers, Richman loved rock and roll, but he thought about it more seriously and unconventionally than most kids his age. By the time he turned sixteen, he had published a review of the Velvet Underground’s first album in the Boston music magazine Vibrations. He followed with a precocious article on “New York Art and the Velvet Underground,” in which he charted rock’s future over the next three years. On a vertical axis stretching from “Death” at the bottom to “God” at the top, Richman projected the demise of Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, and pretentious “art-rock” groups such as the Doors, Traffic, and Cream — a fairly accurate prediction, as things turned out. The Beatles and the Who held high and steady on Richman’s graph, while the Velvets soared past them toward God [see this chart here- rb]. They evidently offered some spiritual meaning Richman couldn’t find in Hebrew school or synagogue. (In a later interview, Richman said he considered the Velvets’ music a form of gospel.) According to Richman, their “honesty,” “functionality,” “black lyrics,” “black rhythms,” “sense of humor,” and “eroticism” comprised the ingredients of true art, not like the “shit” emanating from Haight-Ashbury at that time. Richman soon became a protégé of the Velvets, often sneaking to New York on weekends to hang out with the band and Warhol’s crowd. Rumor had it that Richman saw them play upward of a hundred times.

Richman also took up guitar after hearing the Velvets’ first album and quickly began performing solo. He often played outdoors in the Cambridge Common — “hippie central,” according to one Boston music veteran — where he would yell things such as, “I’m not a hippie! I’m not stoned!” at anyone within earshot. He also played in coffeehouses and opened for unlikely bands, such as the Grateful Dead and the J. Geils Band, which was either self-punishment or provocation. After graduating from high school in 1969, Richman moved to New York, where he continued to hang out with the Velvets and perform with his electric guitar. He grew disenchanted with the downtown scene, however, and left a year later.

Before resettling in Boston, Richman visited a cousin in Israel, where the country’s natural beauty struck him. It was during that trip that Richman decided to form a band. “The actual decision had been made,” according to Richman’s unofficial biographer, Tim Mitchell, “while staring at a full moon one night in Jerusalem.” Thus inspired, Richman formed the Modern Lovers in September 1970 with his next-door neighbor John Felice. Several other guys he knew from Cambridge, including Jerry Harrison (later of the Talking Heads) and David Robinson (later of the Cars), joined them.

Richman brought to the Modern Lovers the perspective of somebody always standing on the fringe. He loved his parents, who supported his interest in music from the start. Yet he rejected their desire for middle class respectability. He hated Hebrew school and showed no apparent identification with Judaism after his bar mitzvah. (Richman also seemed to have had troubled relationships with Jewish girls: the song “Hospital” was “all about” the “Jewish princess phenomenon,” Richman revealed at a 1973 show in Berkeley.) Yet he found Natick’s social world to be equally confining. Within the rock scene, Richman also seemed to be of two minds. He embraced experimental groups such as the Velvets and the Stooges, which put him at odds with about 99 percent of rock fans at the time. Yet he couldn’t stand the drug-saturated decadence that surrounded both groups. The young Jonathan Richman fit in nowhere.

From his position on the margins, Richman developed a unique rock and roll persona that could be described as part provocateur, part nice Jewish boy. He insisted on wearing short hair (“so you can see my face”) and plain clothes: starched white collared shirts, straight-legged slacks, and sneakers or pointed shoes. Sometimes he donned a tie and a sport coat. Other times he wore white T-shirts scrawled with handwritten slogans such as “I Love My Life.” Ziggy Stardust he was not. Richman felt nothing but contempt for the trappings of rock stardom: costumes, platform heels, glitter, makeup, all of it. “I hate money on stage,” Richman told Interview magazine in 1973. “I detest it.” In the words of one journalist, Richman looked like a “Jewish boy scout with an adenoidal drawl.”

Audiences did not know what to make of Richman. Was this guy a put-on? A colossal geek? Strung out? His friend Jay Dobis recalls being asked, “Which drugs does Jonathan do and in what vast quantities?” Richman seemed just too weird to be straight. During slow songs, Richman would work himself up to the point of tears, then drop to his knees James Brown–style and bang the microphone stand on the floor. Before up-tempo numbers, he would invite audience members to dance, a mischievous gesture at a time when rock music had all but ceased to be dance music. Eric Clapton, on the pages of Rolling Stone, had gone so far as to ask fans to remain in their seats so they could appreciate his virtuosity. As if in response, Richman assured audiences he wouldn’t be offended if they danced. He also practiced new songs during sets and even switched instruments with band members for fun. “I think this is great,” someone commented to writer Greil Marcus at a 1972 show. “Or is it terrible?”

While Richman and the Modern Lovers puzzled some people, they angered others. At a YMCA gig, people spat and threw cans from the balcony. In southern California, a large crowd greeted them with rocks and bottles when they opened for soul/funk outfit Tower of Power. After the set, ex-Byrd Gram Parsons had to rescue the band from toughs waiting backstage.

But Richman thrived on confrontation, if not on threats of physical violence. “[T]he whole reason we’re doing what we’re doing,” he told Interview, “is to be contrary.” When students at a high school dance demanded familiar covers, the Modern Lovers tortured them with an improvisation of Led Zeppelin II. Shows at Harvard went slightly better. “They wanted to hear the Rolling Stones,” Jerry Harrison recalls. “We definitely didn’t give ’em what they wanted.” Likewise, Richman didn’t care if people disliked his clean-cut appearance; he wanted them to react. “Actually it helps my stage act to wear something I know someone else hates,” he continued in Interview. “It makes me feel stronger. It makes me feel persecuted. I feel I have this power inside me and I know, overcoming all obstacles, the Modern Lovers will triumph.” Out of his experience as a suburban Jewish misfit — not a nerd, but cool in a way no cool crowd could recognize — Richman fashioned a defiant rock and roll stance.

Rock and roll and youth rebellion had always gone hand-in-hand, but Richman broke the mold by turning rock’s rebelliousness against itself. He did not direct his anger at the standard authority figures — parents, teachers, cops, politicians — forever telling kids what they could or could not do. “I still love my parents,” he proclaimed in the song “Old World,” and he meant it sincerely. After all, Mr. Richman had paid for Jonathan’s first guitar and lent him the family station wagon to use for gigs. For her part, Mrs. Richman fed the Modern Lovers with frequent care packages. If she could sometimes be a little overbearing (like the time she forced Jonathan to try on a new sweater in front of his bandmates), well, that was a nuisance he could tolerate. Jonathan loved his mother like any nice Jewish boy would, except that this nice Jewish boy also played a “shattering guitar,” to quote Marcus, inspired by Velvet Underground songs about junkies and S & M.

Richman focused his outrage on hippies. An outspoken critic of the Vietnam War even in high school, Richman was no conservative. But in Richman’s eyes, hippies were frauds who hid behind long hair and drugs so they wouldn’t have to express an authentic emotion. They affected spiritual depth but were actually afraid to “take this place and take it straight,” as he charged in his song “I’m Straight.” For Richman the counterculture represented a new kind of deadening conformity. That “bell-bottom–wearing assholes” always seemed to attract the girls Richman wanted only fueled his outrage.

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The Modern Lovers never developed a mass following, but audiences eventually grew larger and writers began to take notice. Influential critic Lillian Roxon was an important early ally. Roxon made a trip to Boston in late 1971 at the insistence of Danny Fields, who had earlier signed the Stooges to Elektra and would later manage the Ramones. Roxon, herself a Jew who didn’t do drugs, perhaps felt a certain kinship with Richman. She wrote a brief but rave review of the Modern Lovers at the end of her New York Daily News column, and word of mouth spread quickly. Record labels started courting the band and, in an unusual move, both Warner Brothers and A&M agreed to fly them to Los Angeles to record two batches of demos. After they returned to Boston, the Modern Lovers recorded more tracks with the ubiquitous entrepreneur Kim Fowley.

The various demos recorded between 1972 and 1973 together constituted a masterpiece: a succinct demonstration of how the avant could and should be made into pop. Richman drew extensively from the Velvets and the Stooges, as he readily acknowledged. You can hear their influences in the harsh “New York subway sound” (Richman’s words) of the guitar and keyboard, the hammering chords, Richman’s off-key intonations, and his lyrical improvisations. It’s not for nothing that the band chose the Velvets’ John Cale to produce their Warner’s tracks.

Yet Richman assembled his influences in ingenious ways. “Roadrunner,” the Modern Lovers’ signature song, is basically a stripped-down, reconstructed version of the Velvets’ “Sister Ray.” Amid the seventeen-minute morass of noise and semi-audible utterances about shooting junk, Richman somehow perceived the beauty of “Sister Ray’s” three basic chords. He then reduced the three chords to two and added joyous lyrics about driving on the highway at night, listening to the radio — not the cool, free-form FM stations (home of Richman’s hated “art rock”), but good old Top 40 AM, where he first heard rock and roll as a boy. “Roadrunner” clocks in at around four minutes, depending on the version, but nobody with a soul would want it to ever end.

The Modern Lovers, however, came to an end all too soon. By mid-1973, Richman had grown bored with the band’s existing material and announced he would no longer play any of it live. He wanted to play softer music. His stubbornness led to infighting and pressure from Warner Brothers, who had signed the Modern Lovers to a reputedly large contract. Things finally fell apart at the beginning of 1974. The band’s recordings for Warner Brothers and A&M languished until a small label released nine of them in 1976. [read Lester Bangs's review of the 1976 lineup of Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers here- rb] During the 1980s and 1990s, most of the remaining demos, along with live recordings, would appear on various small labels.

Three decades later, those old tracks still sound exciting and defiant. Richman’s purity of feeling — his love and anger — stands as a permanent protest against the jaded and detached attitudes that continue to plague rock music. And beneath his songs lies a Jewish story about an eccentric from the Boston suburbs who rebelled against his generation in an attempt to save rock music from itself.


Postscript: Jay Dobis reports that Richman has resumed learning Hebrew and is currently writing a short song entirely in the language. His childhood Hebrew teachers would be surprised.

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Thank you to Tony Michels, Shaina Feinberg at Guilt & Pleasure, and to Devon!

Also of interest: From Oi to Oy: is Hardcore Punk Suddenly Kosher by Steven Beeber

The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's: A Secret History of Jewish Punk



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Interview #15 : Greg "Curly" Keranen

Thanks to Bob, I managed to contact Greg “Curly” Keranen who must be the ultimate Modern Lover, the musician whose collaboration with Jonathan has lasted the longest time, though Tom Larkins must be close. He is still involved in Jonathan projects today and they are close friends.

(picture courtesy of G. Keranen)

Curly as a bass player became famous for the opening lines of “Egyptian Reggae”, He started to work with Jonathan already when he was in the Rubinoos. He is part of the historical Modern Lovers line-up which recorded “Rock’n Roll with the Modern Lovers." He was also with Jonathan at the time of the Rockin Robins.

All the details are explained by Greg below and the infamous “lost full orchestra album” story is eventually clarified. Greg has also been interested for ages in Brazilian music, bossa nova and jazz; he even played with Stan Getz who is the perfect link between both musical channels. To us he is Greg “Curly” Keranen, to the bossa nova fans he is João Dilberto, his alter ego, moreover he is a trained computer expert. He has his own website which I encourage you to visit at http://www.dilberto.com.

I started by mentioning to Greg how the "Beserkley Chartbusters vol.1" LP had been important in my life -so to say- as well as the following albums of Jonathan and his Modern Lovers on that Californian label.

Today these albums still produce happiness in me, just simple stupid joy. These records were a way to escape the greyness and they made me smile as will do a Jonathan concert today.

Greg, you were part of that magic, specially on that "Rock'n Roll with the Modern Lovers" LP.

The most important records for me were:
1964 - The Beatles - I Wanna Hold Your Hand; Meet the Beatles LP
1973 - Chick Corea - Return to Forever LP, Light As A Feather LP
2006 - Sylvain Luc

Though I can't speak for him, I know some of the most important, for Jonathan, were:

Buddy Holly
Velvet Underground
Iggy & The Stooges

Recently, we've been talking about how different types of musical temperament affect you - Equal Temperament versus Just Intonation, etc. Jonathan bought me the Albert Ayler 'Holy Ghost' boxed set a few weeks ago, and I volleyed back with a Keith Jarrett 'The Impulse Years'.

-Speaking of which I shall ask my first question about the song "Dodge Veg-O-Matic". In the CD reedition of that song, there is a spoken intro part. Was that you making fun of Jonathan about this old car ?

No. That was Leroy Radcliffe. That record was very much like our rehearsals - we were always joking around and playing roles. One of the great things about Jonathan is how he is able to mix comedy and sincerity - a lot of people can't figure out how to handle it - they want to know: is Jonathan really serious or not? They want things to be black or white. Jonathan is all about color.



Curly, Jonathan and Leroy

- You were a founder member of the Rubinoos, a major power pop band in its time.The Rubinoos used to be a backing band for Jonathan after the 1st Modern Lovers disbanded, what was the setlist Jonathan would be performing then and what was the audience reaction ?

I don't think the Rubinoos ever played a live gig with Jonathan except for possibly sitting in with us at the "Longbranch Saloon" in Berkeley, and a bit of a publicity stunt rendition of "The New Teller" and "Government Center" that I think we played on the street in the San Francisco Financial District around the time the record came out. Therefore, there was never a 'set list', except for the tunes on the Chartbusters LP.

- With that band you had a few songs on the "Beserkley chartbusters vol I " record, as did Greg Kihn, Earthquake and Jonathan. Did you enjoy recording with Jonathan on two of his songs ("Government Center" and "New Teller") ?

Absolutely! It was Rock and Roll - the real thing!

That was the kind of music that we originally created the Rubinoos to play, but by the time we met Jonathan, The Rubinoos had become something completely different - a 'pop' band. Originally, we were an Oldies band, doing songs by Bill Haley, Chubby Checker, The Troggs, etc. I never really cared much for 'pop' music - my passion was jazz - but I played in the band because they were some of my best friends and it was a chance to play on bigger stages. But my heart wasn't in it; I left the Rubinoos soon after meeting Jonathan.

Unlike all of us in the Rubinoos, who thought we had to become 'entertainers' to be successful in the music business, Jonathan was a real entertainer - and a real person! I had never met anyone like him before. All I really wanted to do was to play music and have fun. Jonathan took care of the entertainment and the fun, and the music took care of itself.

- On that same record is my favourite version of "Roadrunner". Were you on it or was it strictly Earthquake backing Jonathan? What are your memories of those sessions?

Earthquake backed Jojo on Roadrunner. I wasn't involved in the sessions except possibly to add
some handclaps or backing vocals.

The sessions went down quickly - maybe two takes. Jonathan was doing push-ups and eating a lot of health food at the time, running a lot. He was healthy and very high energy and feeling really great to be finally free of the music "industry" in L.A. He really fell in love with Berkeley - singing and playing on the street all the time, on campus, sleeping on floors, etc.

- Was it the first time you were confronted to Jonathan ? Had you seen him in the previous years when he was on the west coast with the 1st line up of the Modern Lovers? If so, how were the gigs?

I hooked up with Jonathan because, after he disbanded The Modern Lovers, The Rubinoos manager, Matthew Kaufman -founder of Beserkley records and self proclaimed "reigning looney"-, had signed Jonathan to do Beserkley Chartbusters and Jonathan didn't have a band.

Jonathan had played a gig, with his original Modern Lovers band, at a local club in Berkeley,
called "The Longbranch Saloon", where all the Beserkley acts used to play. Everybody loved him but I didn't see that gig and had never heard of Jonathan. I was sort of thrust into the situation of meeting Jonathan because it was Matthew's idea. Jonathan really loved our innocence, after having just "Escaped from LA" with a big record company and a band with a lot of egos trying to force him down a "career path" in the rock industry.

- You recorded the beautiful "Rock'n roll with the Modern Lovers" album. The band at that time seemed ideal for the sound Jonathan wanted to get. Could you tell us about the conditions of recordings? There was also those reports saying that Jonathan was applying some para-military like style of life to his band, with fitness program and proper diet; could you comment on that? Were you all happy with this?

You're right - it might possibly have been the most 'perfect' alignment between Jonathan and a band that has existed.

I think that this record marks the point where Jonathan finally found a new identity that was
all his own - he had clearly gone beyond the 'Velvet Underground' period.

At the time, a lot of people weren't quite ready for that evolution since the first Modern Lovers
demo sessions had only just, finally, just been released, after being acquired by Beserkley Records. We played an important concert at Town Hall in New York right after that record came out and it was attended by a lot of fans and artists who expected to hear the original Modern Lovers songs. Sure we played the hell out of "Road Runner," but by the time we got to the 10th encore of "Ice Cream Man" there was a bit of booing from the audience. Reactions were really mixed, but that show succeeded in getting a lot of attention.

That mythical LP, Curly right on acoustic bass


But let me back up a minute.

The acoustic bass was a really important part of that evolution in Jonathan's music. I had started acoustic bass, along with electric, on Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers LP but by the time of Rock 'n' Roll With the Modern Lovers, we had stopped using the electric bass entirely.

It was like returning to the roots of Rock and Roll - we were playing Joe Turner songs (who I actually played with at the same time, incidentally) - when bands like the Talking Heads
were going in the opposite direction - towards technology - while Jonathan was moving away from that; moving more toward jazz.

After Chartbusters, Jonathan still didn't have a band but it was time to make the first, really official, Jonathan Richman LP.

I had been riding my bicycle around Europe in the autumn of 1975. I was in Barcelona on the day of General Franco's funeral - communists and fascists in the streets, lots of guns, and really great paella - and I phoned home to learn that Jonathan had been trying to locate me to join his band. I went to Andalucia for a week or so and then flew home.

I called up, talked to Jonathan on the phone, then to his manager, who offered me the gig.

I was only 17 then, but I had one condition - if Jonathan wanted me to play acoustic bass, then I needed a really nice one. Stanley Clarke and Eddie Gomez were my idols then but all I had was a plywood Kay bass. That would have been fine for Jonathan, but not for me.

Anyway, Beserkley agreed to buy me a better bass, which they later did, in style. I packed up and moved to Boston. That was the time that I joined the Modern Lovers.

When I got to Boston, Jonathan had already teamed up with Leroy Radcliffe and had re-hired David Robinson, who had been the drummer with the original Modern Lovers band.

It was surprising to me that Jonathan had invited David back since he was quite determined to forge a new path from the sound, and politics, of that band. David really loved Jonathan's music and had agreed to completely follow Jonathan's direction, this time around.

I really loved David's playing - especially when we played Road Runner! David loved that music but Jonathan held us all on a very tight leash - he was afraid of slipping back into the 'old' sound, especially in terms of dynamics - he wanted to play quieter, not louder.

This was really frustrating for David - I also really wished that Jonathan would just let go and
rock harder - but that was not to be. Every time David started getting into it, Jonathan would tell him to quiet down.

One day, at a rehearsal, Jonathan tried putting a towel over David's snare and still, it wasn't quiet enough for him! Jonathan's standard back then was that he wanted to make music that would be accessible to even a baby's sensitive ears. He still wanted to play Rock and Roll with a lot of intensity and playfulness, but felt that it should never damage anybody's ears. What a concept! His former idols, The Velvet Underground, were into heroin; Iggy Pop was into self-mutilation. Jonathan was into health food, loved singing for people in nursing home, and babies.

That was enough for David - he quit on the spot. He just couldn't understand it and, wasn't really technically prepared - what Jonathan really needed was a drummer with jazz chops.

David's departure was a tipping point that released a lot of tension for everybody. It was best for David since, soon thereafter, he started the band, The Cars, with Rick Ocasek and got to do just what he wanted.

We didn't have a drummer for awhile, after David left. This brings me to the next huge evolution in our music - our next drummer, D. Sharp, whose first name was David but everybody called him "D. Sharp".


D. Sharp was one of the busiest and best jazz drummers in Boston at the time. We only happened to meet him because we had decided to rent his basement as a rehearsal space. D. Sharp's wife, Nancy, used to serve us all macrobiotic lunches and D. Sharp would hang out and jam with us, then run off to play a jazz gig somewhere.

D. Sharp heard something in Jonathan's music that nobody had ever heard before - jazz. But not just jazz like the 'Roots of Rock' type of thing - Joe Turner, Illinois Jacquet, etc. D. Sharp loved Jonathan because he thought he was really "out there" - truly 'avant-garde' - more like Sun Ra than the rest of Rock and Roll.

A good example was the snare drum issue. Whereas David Robinson quit because he was muffled to death, D. Sharp delighted in finding a musical solution: enter the 1947 De Soto hub cap, cum 'snare drum'!

In place of the traditional snare, D. Sharp placed a 1947 De Soto hub cap, which he played with mallets, along with an assorted array of pot lids hanging from a rack, a huge African drum, covered with zebra skin, Brazilian cuica, etc. On a song like "Afternoon" he used to actually play the AIR, with brushes, as Jonathan sang, "...the wind...I am, I am..."

I get chills up my spine just thinking about that stuff. It was really deep. The deepest was when we just practiced outside somewhere. Jonathan wrote a lot of songs about the city, bleak, industrial zones - but it was the natural mystery behind such things that he was really trying to evoke. We were so close that we would rehearse for hours and nobody would say a word to disturb the trance. It was a continuous flow of music and spirit that possessed us all. Lots and lots of eye-contact. All the time. That's something that most people are very poor at - they are so self-centered. It takes a lot of practice to learn how to shut off all the nervous energy, the trivial conversation and to approach music like it is a natural force, or prayer, to be channeled, nurtured and respected.

You might say Jonathan was closer to a mystic than a drill sergeant :-)

There were times when we used to do push-ups together, jumping jacks and vocal exercises. Mostly that was in the period between David Robinson and D. Sharp - when Jonathan seemed to need to know he was still in control of his band. Leroy and I enjoyed it so it wasn't a big deal. After all, Jonathan was our employer. The thing was that he saw music and diet and exercise as being inter-related - he sometimes directed us in exercising but he never told us what to eat, though alcohol wasn't allowed at gigs.

When D. Sharp joined the band, Jonathan relaxed a lot! First of all, D. Sharp was older and a bit more experienced than the rest of us, and he wouldn't be dictated to. Also, Jonathan felt less threatened by 'rebelliousness' from the band since the music had evolved to a higher level.

- What is your favourite song of all the songs you played backing Jonathan ?

Probably the ones I didn't have to sing on.

"Afternoon" was our favorite 'spiritual'
"South American Folk Song" was maybe the most fun
"Road Runner" had hypnotic power and sex appeal

- Tim Mitchell mentions in his book ("There's Something About Jonathan") that there was an album recorded with a full orchestra at the Gold star studios with Phil Spector's engineers which Jonathan rejected even though Matthew Kaufman described the result as just magic. Apparently you were one of the happy few who heard those tapes, what did it sound like ?

So the true story has never been exposed yet?
Yes, I heard the tapes, but they did not make me happy.

Actually, I was the one responsible for Jonathan deciding to ditch those tapes, to the great dismay of Matthew Kaufman who had already spent a fortune producing those sessions with the likes of Steve Douglas, Carol Kaye, etc.

What happened was that I had just dropped out of College at the University of Chicago, in my senior year, to rejoin Jonathan's band. We met up in Berkeley and he was really excited to play me the tapes. One song I remember was "Let's Take the Long Way Home", which had originally been recorded by Bing Crosby.

They had recorded a full string section, just like the Bing Crosby record! Imagine hearing Jonathan's voice in place of Bing Crosby's - it was horrible. In that kind of setting, all I could hear was how out of tune and nasal Jonathan's voice sounded, and how awkward it all was. The kind of hyper-emotional passion Jonathan was trying to evoke might have worked with solo guitar, but not with an orchestra, and the memory in the mind of the listener of how Bing Crosby would have sounded, in contrast - smooth and confident, not wavering.

One of the reasons that Jonathan and I have stayed such good friends for so long is that we have always been perfectly honest with one another. On this occasion, I told him what I heard and he listened to it all with new ears and decided that he agreed with me. That was the end of it - a failed experiment.

-You were part of the glorious Rockin Robins period, how do you consider that time in Jonathan's career?



Greg -on the left- with the Rockin' Robins

It was a lot of fun! I think there is something very fresh about the female energy that they both added. That was a great change of direction from the all-male bands Jonathan had had for years. However, there was some frustration during that period in Jonathan's personal and business life since he was yet to be united with his first wife, Gail, and, during this time, problems with management came to a head and culminated in Jonathan's decision to fire Matthew Kaufman and leave Beserkley Records and to hire a new manager, Norman Epstein, and sign with a new record company, Sire Records.

- Do you still see Beth and Ellie?

Not for many years now, unfortunately. Beth is a successful independent film producer who does documentaries and got married and lives in the Pacific Northwest, last I heard.

Ellie, Jonathan and Michael on stage

- How was life during those tours you were doing over the US and in Europe? Were the audiences differently reacting, in the US and abroad?

Europe was definitely more intense. I only did one European tour with Jonathan and it burned me out! Too many tiny clubs with low ceilings and cigarette smoke so thick that the tar would be dripping with sweat down my glasses on my way to the stage! Too many clubs where some punk had committed suicide the night before.

I really hate the punk rock scene - definitely not healthy for the ears. In spite of Jonathan distancing himself from all of that energy, some of his biggest fans were people like the Ramones and we would always get booked into punk rock clubs where we had to wear earplugs all the time we weren't on stage. Ridiculous.

I left the band after our last gig in London and moved to Ireland and studied classical guitar for 9 months, then went to Spain to study flamenco guitar and renewed my love for jazz and Brazilian music after that.

- What is it according to you that makes Jonathan concerts different ? I mean I have
never seen so many people smiling in front of a performer.

I'm sure it is different for everybody.

Aside from intangible words like "charisma" and "personality", for me it is the level of honesty and humanity that Jonathan brings out in his story-telling. Maybe I said it before, 'color' - Jonathan is multi-dimensional. He is like a fine film - one where just when you thought you identified the 'good guys' and the 'bad guys', it turns out that the characters actually are real people, with good and bad and everything in between.

Jonathan makes me smile because he reaches out and is not afraid to touch and to be touched and to be really honest and vulnerable and funny too.

-You are from the West Coast, did you understand what Boston meant to Jonathan when you went there with the band ?

Sort of. I drove around to all the places that Jonathan sang about, like Route 128 and the Fenway, Combat Zone, etc. I lived there for a couple of years and enjoyed it. But for Jonathan it was different - maybe not always enjoyable but it was where he grew up and it affected him. For him, it was driving around in cars beneath the buzzing power lines and wandering, lonely, around the Gardner Museum. For me, it was the the fog from the SF Bay, smell of Eucalyptus trees in the East Bay Hills, acid trips and hippies :-)

- You have been one of the musicians who played the most with Jonathan through the years, what do you think of his current songs ?

Jonathan is always coming up with something new and fresh and I always am blown away with one or two songs that he is writing. Recently, we've been recording a new song that deals with the subject of death. Both Jonathan and I have lost a parent in recent years so I felt moved by hearing a really honest look into those emotions.

Also, Jonathan has taken a deep interest into flamenco in the last several years and I am amazed at how naturally he has been able to incorporate some flamenco ideas into his music and make it his own! Flamenco is technically quite difficult and can sound pretty bad when played with a 'macho' feeling.

A lot of Jonathan's previous music comes from a very simple tradition of rock and roll harmony - which can be boring since it only uses diatonic harmony, with little use of modulation or passing tones. That would probably be my biggest criticism of his music, for a bassist it can get boring.

Now I am hearing him venture out more - when I met him, he used to absolutely hate major seventh chords, for example, and didn't like dominant sevenths or ninths that much either. Now he is playing lydian and phrygian modal chords a lot, plus making more mistakes - which is what he likes the best! :-)

This has to do with listening and studying flamenco and jazz a lot more. Jonathan is always
learning and never afraid to try new stuff. As Miles Davis once said to Herbie Hancock: "There
ain't no such thing as a wrong note - until the note that comes AFTER the wrong note!"

- I know that you are more than keen on Brazilian music and culture. I recently saw again the old Glauber Rocha movie "Antonio das mortes" and when came the title track song I could not help but think that Jonathan was quite similar in his own way to Antonio das mortes, favouring innocence and loyalty versus profit and business. I just have to quote this beautiful unreleased song "My name is Jonathan and I can't stand seeing people with their feelings hurt?". Could you comment on that?

That was a great song. Jonathan has written a lot of songs like that that never get released but which convey a simple and powerfully honest emotion.

Jonathan and I attended a João Gilberto concert together a couple of years ago and he was really blown away. João had such a strong, beautiful voice and his guitar playing was so masterful and rock-steady. We have talked about that many times.

- What made you evolve from the Jonathan type of music to bossa nova which you play nowadays ?

Well, partly it was just a natural consequence of growing up listening to jazz. As a baby, my parents listened to a lot of jazz and occasionally hosted dinners for the likes of John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman when we lived in Chicago. Then we were all listening to Bossa Nova in the 60's and the first Return to Forever LP with Flora Purim and Airto was perhaps the deepest musical experience for me.

I was not attracted to Jonathan's music so much as I became his friend and collaborator. Aside from Jonathan, I haven't really played much music besides jazz in the last 30 years or so. And, as D. Sharp put it - Jonathan has a lot in common with jazz.

As a bassist, however, I got to the point where I was tired of always being a sideman and having to depend on finding at least one other person to play with on gigs. I decided to return to my first instrument, the guitar so that I could play solo, at least occasionally. I still play bass but I won't compromise anymore. I am not interested in playing on anybody's gig unless I really like the music. It is hard finding other musicians who are willing to find a win-win - mostly the guy who organizes the band and finds the gigs considers it his or her right to call the tunes. There is so much great music out there - life is far too short to sacrifice an hour of time for $50 or even $100 on a gig.

Actually lately I'm more focused on solo jazz guitar and blues than on Bossa Nova. But bossa nova is wonderful music and I it is something that I can play solo and everybody seems to like.

But I've kind of given up on trying to sing like João Gilberto.

- Any anecdote related to Jonathan ?

Gee. I've been typing for over 4 hours at this point. I wish I could think of something simple but nothing comes to mind at the moment. Sorry. Remind me in a few weeks and I'll contribute an anectode for your blog.

Thanks Greg it has been a pleasure to discuss with you.

-- Jacques_

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