| LEE UNDERWOOD Lead Guitarist |
***Let us begin with a brief Lee Underwood biography.***
In the 60s and early 70s, Lee toured, recorded, and played lead guitar
for singer/songwriter Tim Buckley, appearing on seven of Buckley's
nine albums released prior to Tim's untimely death in 1975, and on four
of the six CDs released posthumously.
In addition to writing poetry and short stories, Lee Underwood plays
piano, enjoys hiking, camping and photography, and co-hosts a Fresno
radio show with Preston Chase, "Between the Lines: Poetry to Take
You Home." He has published poems in "In The Grove", "Light of
Consciousness", "Zambamba", "The Central California Poetry Journal"
and "Say Yes". Throughout the '70s and '80s he wrote extensively
about jazz (West Coast Editor, Downbeat, 1975-1981) and Spacemusic
(Body/Mind/Spirit, New Realities, Yoga Journal, others). He co-
authored flutist Paul Horn's autobiography, "Inside Paul Horn" (Harper
Collins, 1990), and received the Crystal Award for Music Journalism in
1991. .Lee Underwood presently lives in Oakhurst, California, in the
mountains near Yosemite.
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Our interview is divided into Four Parts.
Part One consists of Lee's responses to a list of questions that I
e-mailed to him a while ago.
Part Two debates the audience/performer relationship question.
Part Three revolves around "California Sigh".
Part Four contains follow-up questions and the conclusion of the
interview.
PART ONE...THE EARLY DAYS
Our interview begins with Lee's responses to a series of questions on a
variety of subjects related to the early stages of his career, his
relationship with Tim, his views on Tim's first album and "Blue
Afternoon", some technical questions, and a fond memory or two.
I must admit that what follows certainly reads like a shopping list, but
what we actually checkout with, is a shopping cart full of informative
insights.
Q...When did you first pick up a guitar?
Q...Who was your first teacher?
Q...What kind of music did you first play?
Q...Who were your musical influences?
Q...When did you first get on stage?
Q...What kind of band did you play with, or was it a solo appearance
for you?
Q...When did you arrive in Greenwich Village?
Q...Did you live in Manhattan or did you just visit Greenwich Village to
work in the clubs?
Q...How and when did you and Tim meet?
Q...Did Fred Neil hang out with you guys or were you close at all?
Q...Any favorite memories that you'd care to impart?
Q...Which guitars did you use on which albums?
Q...Did you and Tim ever sit and play acoustically together?
Q...Do you still feel that Tim's first album was just a bunch of teenage
love songs ? I'm curious if your opinions of any of Tim's music has
changed at all over the years? I thought that there was a lot of great
guitar playing on that album for a first album attempt.
Q...Did you play lead guitar on all the tracks of that first album?
Q...Do you still feel that Blue Afternoon was an almost effortless
album? I hear some of Tim's most incredible vocals on that album,
don't you?
Q...On the album "Starsailor", was that your guitar on "Song To The
Siren" or Tim's ?
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LEE UNDERWOOD'S RESPONSES ARE AS FOLLOWS:
LEE: Thanks for including me in your interview series, Jack. You have
been doing wonderful things to honor Tim's memory and bring new
insights to those of us who love his music.
I feel proud to be included among the fine group of people you have
spoken to.
I had been playing guitar for about a year and a half before meeting
Tim. Blues players and folk musicians were primary
influences--Lightnin' Hopkins, Mississippi John Hurt, Sonny Terry &
Brownie McGhee, and a terrific foot-stomping, contemporary
seven-string guitar picker blues- shouter, Spider John Koerner. Among
folk musicians, I loved Odetta, who showed me that folk music did not
have to be simple-minded or unmusical. I also liked Pete, Mike and
Peggy Seeger. Peggy showed me a few licks on guitar, and before that,
Stu Goldberg (owner of Marina Music in San Francisco) taught me
some chords and strums. I got into guitar and writing songs in late '64 .
Throughout 1965, I played and sang solo gigs in coffeehouses in San
Francisco. In the Spring of '66, I drove to NYC, where I met Tim
through a mutual acquaintance, manager Sean O'Brien. Tim asked me
to play guitar on his six-week gig at the Night Owl club in the Village (a
gig held over for more than a month), and on his upcoming debut on
Elektra. He and Jainie Goldstein and Larry Beckett lived in a Village
apartment, while I lived in a rented room. It has been said that Tim
hung out with Fred Neil during this period, and afterwards, in the period
between Tim Buckley and Goodbye and Hello, and that Fred turned
Tim on to heroin. During the first period, I never saw Fred. During the
second period, Fred showed up at a Cafe Au Go Go show. As far as I
know, they did not "hang out" together during either period, and I know
Tim was definitely not into heroin. Like all of us during those early
years, he smoked pot, drank a few beers, occasionally took acid (not for
mere pleasure, but as a psychotropic activator which helped him explore
his psyche in creative ways, i.e. songwriting). After the Night Owl, he
and I and Jainie Goldstein and my girlfriend, Jennifer Stace, and Larry
drove out to L.A., where we recorded "Tim Buckley". Although the
songs on "Tim Buckley" were an unrelated assemblage of high school
loves songs he and Larry Beckett wrote, that did not mean I did not like
them. True, I was coming from the blues school, and my personal
writings were more visceral than, say, "Wings" or "Valentine Melody."
But as I worked with Tim on the material and got acquainted with it, I
found that his music opened up a new dimension in myself-a gentle,
ethereal, tender side I had never known before, perhaps especially in
"Song of the Magician" and "Song Slowly Song." I think one of the
great strengths of that album is its youthful, innocent quality. There is a
beauty there that can never be duplicated. That sensitive, intimate
quality of Tim's earliest music brought out the best in me and became
my favorite emotional climate. My own sense of melodic lyricism was
born on this first album, and became my greatest strength in his music
thereafter. I did play lead guitar on that entire album.[The photo on the
back of "Tim Buckley" was taken at the Night Owl. It includes some of
the bass player's face and his electric bass (I don't recall his name, Andy
something), but leaves out the drummer and me.] Initially, I was playing
a D-28 acoustic six-string Martin guitar, but it couldn't be heard in the
Night Owl, so Tim and I went to a pawn shop, tried out a few guitars,
and I bought a second- hand Epiphone jazz guitar. Later, in L.A., I
purchased a maple-neck Telecaster and a Fender Super Reverb amp
(customized with two 12-inch ElektroVoice speakers).
I suppose some of my favorite memories revolve around the two years
or so we spent in Venice, California, in a pink house two blocks from
the ocean. There in Big Pink, named after the Band's album of the
same name, and later on Park Place, Jennifer painted pictures (including
Tim's portrait, used as the cover of the recently released "Works in
Progress"). Larry used to visit Big Pink with his girlfriend, Manda, a
painter who later became his wife. Another high school friend of Tim's,
writer Dan Gordon, hung out and partied with us, as did several other
friends. Jennifer's son, Michael Cavanaugh, learned how to play piano
at this house. The whole lot of us toodled down to the beach every day,
laid up in the sun, body surfed the waves, walked up and down the
beach collecting seashells, or up and down the boardwalk looking at
Venice Beach characters, or ambled around Pacific Ocean Park, the
amusement park with a roller coaster, ferris wheel, merry- go-round,
restaurants, game booths. We'd come back home and Tim and I would
play music together. Later at night all of us would get high and listen to
Dr. John, Aretha Franklin, Fred Neil, Jimmy Hendrix. It was a time of
great love, creativity and optimism.
You asked about "Blue Afternoon", a much misunderstood album. It
was not "effortless." A great deal of effort was put into it. We gave it
everything we had and performed as well as we could. And, no question
about it, some of Tim's very best songs appear on that album, including
"Blue Melody," which he sang in nearly all of his live performances until
the end, "Cafe," which he also sang off-and-on until the end, "I Must
Have Been Blind" and "The River." However, it was in some ways a
difficult album to do. We had already embarked upon a new conceptual
journey. "Tim Buckley" emerged from folk music. "Goodbye and
Hello" helped create the folk-rock genre. "Happy Sad" drew from jazz
influences. During the "Happy Sad" period, Buckley had begun
exploring vocal improvisation, moving further and further toward
avant-garde jazz and contemporary classical music. With "Lorca", he
introduced some of the odd-time signatures, extended song-forms and
melodic dissonance that emerged from those experiments.
We were well on our way with avant-garde concepts when Jac Holzman
sold Elektra Records and Tim's manager, Herb Cohen, set up a new
label, Straight Records. Herb knew "Lorca" was going to bomb in the
marketplace, and needed a commercially viable album from Tim with
which to launch the new label. He asked Tim to dip into his grab-bag of
old songs, which Tim did. That's how "Blue Afternoon" was born.
(Confusion results here, because although "Lorca" was recorded first,
"Blue Afternoon", recorded immediately after "Lorca", was released
first.) It was difficult to do "Blue Afternoon" because it interrupted the
creative momentum that had been launched with "Lorca". "Blue
Afternoon" was a conceptual throwback to Happy Sad. It interrupted
the directional flow and forced us to regress to an earlier,
now-outmoded period. In other words, having begun the "Lorca"
journey, which led directly to "Starsailor" and the abstract avant- garde
period that followed, it was hard to turn back, regroup, and record the
"Happy Sad"-type music of "Blue Afternoon". This is not to say that we
did not enjoy the music, or that we did not do our best. We did, on both
counts. But it was a shift of direction backwards, which felt unsettling,
and we had to record it quickly-Herb needed the album right away. We
worked hard, we worked fast, and I, for one, am glad we did it.
Otherwise, those terrific songs would simply have settled into oblivion
and never have been heard. It is also proving to be a more popular and
deeply loved album over the long haul than it was at the time. Back
then, except for one review in the New York Times, it was panned or
ignored. Today, many people want to hear it, and it will undoubtedly be
re-issued in CD along with the rest of the catalogue. Meanwhile,
immediately after we finished "Blue Afternoon", we moved forward
again, directly into further developments of the avant-garde concepts,
and into "Starsailor".
In answer to your earlier question...It was Tim's guitar on Starsailor's
"Song to the Siren." On "Works in Progress" however, I played guitar
along with him on that song. Let me also add that bassist John Balkin
played a major role in helping Tim conceive the arrangements on
several of "Starsailor's" tunes-particularly the criss-crossing vocal lines
on some of the upbeat pieces- and especially the overlapping vocal
tracks on "Starsailor."
PART TWO...THE PERFORMER/AUDIENCE RELATIONSHIP
Jack(Jzero): Lee, as you well know, Tim lost his audience in 1970. I,
along with many others, represent a different type of fan than most of
our forum members. You see, we were there watching and listening to
Tim and the band at Central Park, and Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln
Center, and Carnegie Hall, and the Fillmore East. We couldn't help but
feel that we were a part of it too. But, we were on the other side of the
stage. We were buying the tickets and buying the albums and listening
to Tim's music for hours on end. We have a completely different
perspective than you and I'm afraid that I'm one of those fans who
temporarily left Tim after "Starsailor" came out. I returned to Tim's
music with "Greetings", but I was totally disenchanted and I felt that I
lost a good friend when Tim's music went in a different direction. I can
now appreciate "Starsailor" to some extent, but as a youngster I was lost.
When I started the forum, I had a reason and a goal to reach within a
certain time frame. My intention, strictly as an ardent fan, was to see if
I could find out why Tim didn't become the icon that he should have
become. In my mind there were two reasons why it didn't happen. I
was angry and I just wanted to blame someone, and now I see how
selfish and foolish that mind set was. Nevertheless, I started this project
with the pre-conceived notions that the "Lorca"/"Starsailor" albums and
poor management were the culprits. I've been at this for nine months
and instead of coming to a decisive conclusion, I've now added a third
reason. That reason would be Tim's own fear of success and inability to
handle fame. Allegedly, Herb Cohen felt that you "jazzers", as he
referred to Tim's band, had Tim under your spell. I personally don't
believe that, after having heard everyone's take on Tim's love for jazz
and the jazz greats. I do however have some tough questions for you
about that "Lorca"/"Starsailor" period.
I apologize if any of them offend you. I really do apologize in advance
because I've come to appreciate you and your talent a great deal in the
last six months.
Q...I know that Tim was an artist only looking to grow, but why didn't
he care about his audience(you know, the people who had supported
him and praised him for over 3 years)?
Q...I also know that he felt that he was going to die young, but why
destroy the career that he had worked so hard to build?
Q...You guys had to know that if "Lorca" bombed then "Starsailor"
would bomb also. Was Tim cognizant at all of what his contemporaries
were doing?
Q...Did he lack a competitive nature or was he (after only three
albums)already tired of competing?
Q...What spawned this "let the public be damned" attitude?
Q...Was it management?
Q...Was it the label?
Q...Was it his personal life?
Q... He literally threw it all away. He could have gotten into jazz a little
more gradually and gotten away with it. Why didn't he see that he was
going in the wrong direction commercially after "Lorca" bombed? Why
didn't he care about that?
Q...Some people say that the "jazzers" were leading Tim by the nose.
He was younger and pressure from band members was the reason for
his choice of direction. Was he that weak?
Q...Will you take this opportunity to debate these theories or will these
questions be left unanswered?
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LEE UNDERWOOD: Thanks for giving me an opportunity to talk
about that issue, Jack.
More than a few people share your feelings about the matter, so when I
say "you," I mean not only you personally (whenever it fits you in your
own mind), but a more general "you," whenever what I'm saying fits the
larger group of people who feel as you do. It seems to me that you are
basing your comments and questions on a fundamental negative
assumption: that Tim did something "wrong" both artistically and
commercially when he created the concepts and music that went into
the Lorca/Starsailor albums. And you would like an explanation. I don't
think I would be off-base if I said you (and others who feel the same
way) felt disappointed, resentful, baffled and offended, first with Lorca,
then with Starsailor. Disappointed, that Tim was not giving you more of
the kind of music you had come to love in earlier albums, notably
Happy Sad and Goodbye and Hello. Resentful, that he was giving you
instead, a kind of music that you couldn't relate to, didn't understand
and therefore didn't like. Baffled, by the sheer strangeness and
unorthodoxy of the music. And offended, that he not only did not seem
to care about you and your hurt feelings, but he seemed at times to even
be defiant and hostile when you complained about the music and the
concept and refused to support him either as a listener or a consumer.
You indicate that instead of feeling dazzled by the new vocal techniques
and compositional/improvisational innovations, you felt "disenchanted."
You felt as though you had "lost a friend." And yet, look closely at what
happened. It was you, was it not?, who insisted that he give you what
you wanted--more of the music you already loved. It was you, who
wanted him and his music to fit your mind set, rather than adjusting
your mind set to his. It was the collective you who felt he should be
more like a conventional entertainer who catered to your expectations,
tastes and limited capacities for enjoying the new and unusual in
music--after all, he "owed you," because you had "supported and
praised him" for over three years, and now here he was, refusing "to
care about his audience." You blame him for leaving you, when, in
truth, it was you who turned your back and abandoned him when he
ventured into territory that was too new and strange for you to
comprehend, embrace, understand and enjoy.
You ask, "Why did he destroy a career he had worked so hard to
build?" Why don't you ask instead, "Why did WE destroy his career?"
You might have said what a number of receptive, enthusiastic listeners
did say--"Wow, look what he's doing with his voice. Look how he's
creating new song forms. Look how far he has transcended
conventional pop music and left his orthodox, blues-oriented,
conventional peers behind. Look how fast and how far he moved, first
into jazz (with Happy Sad), then into avant-garde jazz and
contemporary classical music (with Lorca and Starsailor). Look at the
adventurous new musical dimensions and bedazzling psychological
domains he is revealing to us. Look at how new and exciting and
original and thrilling this new music is. By listening to it, by giving
myself to it, by letting it touch me and deeply affect me, he makes me
into a whole new person. Wow, this is great!" Instead of reacting like
that, you abandoned him and accused him of abandoning you. He loved
you so much that he gave you something new instead of repeating the
same old pop formulas--his own, and the other rock 'n' rollers--and yet
you refused to open yourself to the music and follow his lead. Instead,
you decided to feel "disenchanted." You could have felt respected,
challenged and dazzled, but you didn't, and then you blamed him
instead of yourself and your own limitations. You stood in the presence
of genius, and yet wanted from him only the repetition of what you
already felt comfortable with. He gave you diamonds. You wanted
pebbles. As philosopher Arthur Schopenhaur once put it, "The man of
talent is like a marksman who hits a target others cannot hit, but the
man of genius is like a marksman who hits a target others cannot see."
You say you know "he felt he was going to die young," and that you
know he "was an artist only looking to grow," and you say, "I can now
appreciate Starsailor." That is, you say you can see now what he saw
then, but this "now" is 30 years after the fact. Was he supposed to wait
for you to catch up before he gave you his masterpieces? That was the
point. It wasn't a "damn the public" attitude--he loved you, but he knew
there was no time, he couldn't wait for you, he had to get it done while
the vision was with him. And it wasn't that he "wasn't competitive,"
either. To the contrary, he was taking on the entire mass-mind domain
in the recording industry, in radio, concert production, other pop
musicians, and, most of all, you, the audience, the people who
supposedly "loved him" and regarded him as your "friend" (as long as
he fit your preconceived ways of thinking and feeling). He was daring to
pursue a new vision, a unique way of seeing and hearing. He stood
alone after you and his other so-called friends turned their backs,
because he believed in the beauty and intensity of his music, and he
respected you enough to give you something new instead of merely
doling out the usual musical pap of the day. He had enormous hope for
the music, and enormous confidence in himself and in the power and
grace and beauty of what he was doing. He wasn't merely trying to
churn out hits or manipulate your tastes and preconceptions for dollars.
He was giving himself up to something much greater than himself, to
something grand. He never felt better than he did when creating and
fulfilling the Lorca/Starsailor concepts. George Bernard Shaw in Man
and Superman described this feeling of strength and creative integrity
when he said, "This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose
recognized by yourself as a mighty one;. . .the being a force of Nature
instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances
complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."
Of course, Tim suspected you would reject Lorca/Starsailor music. Of
course he knew it "wasn't commercial," because he knew you. But he
wasn't playing the businessman game. He was a genuine
uncompromising artist on the one hand, and he loved you, the listener,
on the other. He refused to exploit you by going backwards creatively to
his old music or pandering to your pop-music tastes, and gave you
brilliance instead. He dared to step out of the immediacy of his own his
day and time, dared to compete--not within conventional values and
structures, but outside those protective conventions, on his own
terms--and dared to follow the sound of his own musical vision until he
fulfilled it. From mid-1968 until early 1972 he did everything he could
to make his Starsailor music successful. He gave three and a half years
to it--more time and effort and creative energy than he devoted to any
other of the five musical phases he explored during the course of his
nine brief years. Listeners wanted him to be "an icon" because they
wanted to like someone who was a big deal in other peoples' eyes. They
wanted to like music that other people liked, too. "See what a big deal
he is? And isn't his music great?" In other words, they wanted to use
Tim and his music to inflate their own egos. When Tim came out with
Lorca and Starsailor, they couldn't do that. He wasn't understood and
embraced by everybody else. Listeners had to choose between
remaining in the herd or stepping outside into the cold, alone, where
Tim was, sailing among blue stars, beckoning you to summon up
courage and imagination enough to follow. Some listeners did. Others
didn't. Those who couldn't understand did not blame themselves for
being unable to get it, nor did they blame themselves for becoming
turncoats. Instead, they pouted and cursed, and blamed Tim. Seems to
me that most of them haven't gotten over it to this day. They are still
"feverish selfish little clods of ailments and grievances" complaining that
Tim didn't devote himself to making them happy. More and more,
however, I see people waking up to what he accomplished, and that
warms my heart and gives me hope that it is not impossible for people
to awaken, grow and evolve.
As for management, how can anybody "blame" Herb Cohen? He didn't
like the Lorca/Starsailor music any more than you or your friends did.
He came at it purely from a business standpoint: these musics did not fit
industrially proven models of what is "commercial." He wanted Tim to
change--in fact, as discussed elsewhere, he insisted Tim dig up some
previously created songs and record Blue Afternoon immediately after
Lorca, so he (Herb) could get an album of conventional material out
there before Lorca's release. And then, when Tim went ahead and
recorded Starsailor and insisted on further developing the Starsailor
concepts in live performances, Herb refused to be his manager. First of
all, "blame" in any sense of the word is not appropriate, and I think the
notion of "culprit" is dead-wrong, because Tim was not doing something
wrong in the first place; secondly, Herb did everything he could to make
Tim return to orthodox pop music. So how can you or anybody else
"blame" management? Herb did what he could, and Tim was making
the bravest most musically positive statement of which he was capable.
So Herb threw him away. And there was Tim, stranded, but unbroken;
by himself, but courageous. As psychologist Wayne Dyer once wrote,
"Willingness to confront fear is called courage. . .Courage means flying
in the face of criticism, relying on yourself, being willing to accept and
learn from the consequences of all your choices. It means believing
enough in yourself and in living your life as you choose so that you cut
the strings whose ends other people hold and use to pull you in contrary
directions." I know Buddy Helm said that allegedly Herb called us
"jazzers" and said we held Tim under our spell, that I and John Balkin
and other Starsailaor musicians were leading Tim by the nose, that Tim
was younger and peer pressure was the reason for his choice of
direction. I am not convinced it was Herb who said that, and not Buddy
himself, but it probably was indeed Herb.
And then you ask, "Was [Tim] that weak?" Tim was a very bright guy.
From day-one, he gathered intelligent, well-educated people around him.
He knew he wasn't going to learn what he needed by going to public
schools. Instead, he chose to gather knowledgeable people around him,
and learn what he needed from them. As he changed perspectives,
moving from folk, to folk-rock, to jazz, avant-garde and funk-rock, he
changed the people and teachers around him. Most people lasted
through one, maybe two of the five phases before running out of
information and insight. I lasted through four. He inhaled their
knowledge, utilized whatever he regarded as relevant, combined it with
his own talent, intelligence and creative perspective, and evolved as a
human being and musician. He opened himself to those who could give
him information and received from them whatever they offered of
value--peer pressure? Emphatically, no. It was he, not they, who set the
course and led the way; he, not they, who decided what was valuable
and relevant; he, not they, who made the decisions about concepts and
directions. At every step on the journey, including his final funk-rock
period, he was the one who carried the flag forward. Weak? Hardly. He
was one of the most responsible, courageous, imaginative human beings
and musicians I have ever known. Seems to me he deserves a heck of a
lot of respect for this--in fact, if he had been weak and deferred to peer
pressure during the Lorca/Starsailor period, he would have bowed his
head to the collective you and Herb Cohen and some of his personal
so-called friends who also abandoned him; he would have bowed his
head to Jac Holzman and other record company executives; he would
have catered to popular tastes instead of conceiving and recording Lorca
and Starsailor, and then daring to spend the following two years playing
Starsailor music in public whenever he could. He was never under
anybody's spell. He was his own man, and deserves to be respected for
that. I, for one, tip my hat. He had balls.
After spending all the time and energy he could in fulfilling the Starsailor
concepts, the time came to change. Where could he go after the
abstract, cerebrally exciting, avant-garde extravaganzas of Starsailor? To
the opposite extreme, of course, namely funk-rock dance music,
sex-drenched rock 'n' roll. His wife liked it. Herb liked it. You liked it.
Greetings From L.A. was born in late 1972 as another natural
evolutionary phase in the on-going musical journey. Yes, it partly had to
do with money, because by this time the collective you had rendered
him broke, but it also had to do with music--he had always come up
with new ideas, phasing from one dimension into another, and he was
doing it again. He had fulfilled the Starsailor concepts, and now it was
time to move on. In this case, his funk-rock music merged everything
he had developed in the past with everything new he was working on in
the present: great songs, spectacular Starsailor vocal improvisations,
crotch-rock rhythms, passion, humor. To my mind, this last phase had
it all: sex, heart and smarts. It lasted through three albums, ending with
his death in 1975.
Of course, as soon as Greetings appeared, a whole new batch of
grumpy listeners came out of the woodwork, calling Buckley a sell-out.
Different music, same situation. No matter what Tim did, those who
would not allow themselves to follow and experience Buckley's changes
inevitably condemned him instead of themselves. What a shame, not
only for him, but especially for those who missed him along the way.
Every single one of his aesthetic/stylistic periods offered a different kind
of beauty, intensity and value. Listeners who allowed themselves to be
touched by each stage gained everything Buckley had to offer. In my
opinion, he offered more than any other single singer/songwriter of his
day. I am reminded of pianist Bill Evans' words, "My creed for art in
general is that it should enrich the soul. It should teach spiritually by
showing a person a portion of himself that he would not discover
otherwise. . . That's the real mission of art." I think Buckley did that in
a dozen different ways. Perpaps the most complex of those ways was
the music contained in Lorca and Startsailor, and, indeed, sometimes
listeners need a little help. I can understand and appreciate that.
Although I wrote the following passage a few months ago, some readers
may have missed it. Maybe it would be helpful if we included it here--
"It is true that much of the music on Tim's Starsailor album is difficult,
complex, and far-removed from conventional forms of popular music.
Listeners who approach Starsailor unprepared for Tim's extraordinary
innovations on this album may find themselves a bit confused, even
intimidated...but only initially. If they give themselves and the music a
chance, by listening more than once and by opening their hearts and
minds and tapping into their own sense of adventure, they will discover
why Tim himself regarded this album as his masterpiece. They will also
find out why writer Michael Bourne of Downbeat Magazine gave the
album five stars and a rave review, and why writer Lester Bangs of
Creem Magazine said of Tim, after listening to Starsailor, "I steadfastly
maintain that Tim Buckley is one of the most underrated and
misunderstood musicians ever to develop out of the dead-end of rock
into the free-form fusion of rock and jazz coupled with his already
original sound." Tim had already explored folk music, folk/rock and
mainstream jazz. With Starsailor, he dared to move into territory that
was completely uncharted in pop music. He created new song forms on
this album, and dove into odd time signatures (moving away from
conventional 4/4 rhythms, into 5/4, 7/4 and 10/4), and combined basic
harmonies with dazzling original discordant criss-crossing melodic lines.
Tim also wrote some of the most vividly impassioned lyrics he had ever
penned. I was proud to be included on this project. At that time, I was
exploring new techniques and new sonic approaches to music in general
and guitar music in particular. I used both hands on the fretboard,
playing criss-crossing lines that created percussive atmospheres,
enharmonic sound-washes and brightly colored tonal textures previously
unheard of. My own technical and musical innovations, and my
adventurous creative spirit at the time, complimented Tim's. We were
definitely in sync with one another at this point in our careers. Together
with bassist John Balkin, trumpet and sax players Buzz and Bunk
Gardner, tympani-drummer Maury Baker and engineer Stan Agol, we
created extraordinary music that to this day has remained unmatched.
Interestingly enough, Jeff Buckley was thoroughly enamored of Tim's
vocal and conceptual innovations on "Starsailor". Although Jeff often
criticized his father in public, he intelligently and wisely chose Tim as
his mentor. He listened over and over to Tim's music, especially
Starsailor, and incorporated many of Tim's original techniques into his
own arsenal of potent and exceptionally beautiful skills. Listeners who
love Jeff's music are in many instances loving Tim's music too, perhaps
without being aware of it. Those people who give Tim's Starsailor music
a receptive, open-minded hearing will find themselves transported into a
psycho-sonic inner world that will prove both incredibly exciting and
profoundly nourishing. If we are brave enough and adventurous enough,
we can discover for ourselves the power, grace and beauty that Tim and
his musicians and the sound engineer on this album found almost thirty
years ago. Clearly, the music still lives. It is here with us now... as vital
and beautiful as it was in 1970. The music itself is alive and singing...all
we need are the ears to hear it--once this music touches us, we will
wonder how we could have missed it in the first place! "
**********************************************************
****
JACK(Jzero): I don't believe one word you just said...LOL... Just
kidding.
Gee-Lee, I think I hit a nerve there. I thought that I was Tim's biggest
fan. You pounced on those questions like a bulldog on a fresh cooked
leg of lamb. Seems like you wanted to say those things for years. I'm
glad I gave you an opportunity to vent your feelings at my expense. I'll
get even with you somehow LOL. ...Excuse me while I wipe the egg off
my face and bow at your feet. I'm not worthy...I'm not worthy...I'm not
worthy!!!
All kidding aside Lee, you made some incredibly good points in your
argument. I think that everyone would agree with most of what you
said. I have to tell you that it wasn't easy asking you those questions.
Your responses were captivating to say the least. You clearly made
several points that gave me and those who felt as I do a real lesson in
understanding.
You also taught me something else through our little debate here. I've
learned that I didn't really understand the Tim Buckley that I thought I
knew. I was always aware that Tim was an artist, but only recently did I
find out the true meaning of the word "artist". I've also discovered that
the role of a true lover of art is one of a quiet observer. One can only
watch and listen to a true artist and revel in the good fortune to have
been able to grasp the meaning of what that artist is trying to say. My
ignorance was profoundly brought to light in this dialogue, and I've
become a better person for having learned that my opinions on anyone's
art are no more important than those of a fly on the wall of a museum.
Tim Buckley never compromised. His art always came first.
LEE UNDERWOOD: By bringing forth your insight that "the role of a
true lover of art is that of a quiet observer", you put in a nutshell the
way in which audiences can best perceive, understand and appreciate an
authentic artist such as Tim. Seems to me, that is a tremendous service
to both Tim and the audience, do you agree?
JACK(Jzero):Yes I do. Let's move on, shall we?
**********************************************************
********************
PART THREE... "CALIFORNIA SIGH"
JACK(Jzero):Has anyone in this forum ever heard Lee Underwood's
collection of acoustic guitar instrumentals entitled "California Sigh"? A
copy of the audio cassette was sent to me by Dan Patrick of San Jose. I
asked Lee when he recorded the album, if he wrote all the songs, and
which guitar or guitars he used. I wanted to know what genre he was
working in. I would say: New Age/ClassicalJazz/Folk/Flamenco. Sort of
Steve Howe meets Andres Segovia and Oscar Oleman. I wondered
whether there were any liner notes available for this splendid work and
if the sounds of nature in the background were real or computer
generated. Lastly, I asked Lee which brass-wind or reed instruments
were used on "The Other Side Of Sunny" and "Midnight Blue".
LEE UNDERWOOD:It is amazing to me how sooner or later
everything gets discovered. "California Sigh" is not widely known,
primarily because it emerges from a particular stage of my musical life,
one of my most cherished, heartfelt and decidedly non-commercial
periods. From there, I went on to evolve in a variety of different ways.
Once I left the "California Sigh" zone, I did not look back. Hence, Cal
Sigh has become something of a little-known open secret. I played a
D-28 Martin six-string acoustic guitar on Cal Sigh, composed all of the
material, recorded it in 1988, released it independently, have only a very
few copies left. The masters are no longer in existence. As a result, the
cassette tapes have become collector's items. I don't know if I'm up for
selling them or not. I suppose that will depend upon the individuals who
want them. Synthesist Steve Roach did the engineering on that tape, and
played synthesizer on "Midnight Blue," which is the most active,
excitement-oriented piece on Cal Sigh. All of the other pieces are
intentionally soft, gentle, and mostly simple in structure, presentation
and mood. I sequenced the pieces, not in terms of commercial
sensation-oriented order, but in terms of a single listening
experience-candlelight, laying back, eyes closed, beginning with "Gentle
Rain," relaxing, moving deeper into quietude, following the line of
musical development from simplicity into quiet complexity, until the
final three pieces include Kevin Braheny on synthesizer and melodic
Electronic Wind Instrument for the supremely gentle "The Other Side of
Sunny"; Steve Roach, synthesizer on the intense, dark-side "Midnight
Blue"; and pedal steel player Chaz Smith on the lyrical, optimistic,
nature-oriented final piece, "Aspen Trails." The streams, birds, wind-are
all real, not electronic. Everything about the album is intended to be
gentle, quiet, emotionally inclusive, optimistic, heartfelt. It has nothing
to do with mental stimulation, emotional disruption, radio-music or
corporate ideas of what is "commercial." It has everything to do with
inner peace. As a result, many listeners conditioned by orthodox,
mainstream approaches to guitar music do not quite know what to make
of it. They are used to short, flashy, continually changing, bombastic,
thrilling, electric, sense-blistering approaches to music, often with
vocals. I call my low-keyed, all- instrumental acoustic pieces meditation
music or serenity music. As you know, quietude in music is a radical
departure from conventional popular music. If listeners listen to
California Sigh from start to finish, they will experience it as a single
musical experience, an inward psycho-spiritual journey, a heart-song as
beautiful, quiet and relaxing as I could make it. I did not draw from
individual or generic influences, but made the guitar stylings as personal
and original as I could. I don't have favorite pieces. For different
reasons, each one is unique and special to me, rather like children. The
other pieces you mentioned, "Speedy Twang" and "Sexy Thang," come
from yet another time, Santa Fe in the early to mid-'90s. It too was
D-28 acoustic guitar, with amplifier. This period included Cal Sigh
music, but also moved into more mainstream-oriented concepts, with
4/4 rhythms and a funkier orientation, with increasing technical flash, a
different dimension, purpose and approach, accessible to more people
than California Sigh. Again, there were no reference points for me, no
Jimmy Page or anybody else, just personal evolutionary inner
explorations that flowered into unique guitar music. During that time, I
was playing solo guitar in Santa Fe's hotels and lounges, occasionally
giving concerts, having a great time. I never made a full-length tape of
this period. Ah, well. I kept playing guitar until three years ago. These
days, I'm into piano.
**********************************************************
********************
PART FOUR... FOLLOW-UP QUESTIONS AND CONCLUSION
JACK: It sounds to me like it didn't take much time for you to learn
how to play the electric guitar. Were you a child prodigy?
LEE: Initially, played acoustic guitar, then electric. Already knew basic
theory and had learned relative pitch from earlier years, both of which
helped enormously in learning guitar and in improvising.
JACK: I've recently turned someone on to Tim's music and I began by
giving him a compilation tape of Tim's work. My friend(this newcomer
to the world of Tim Buckley) upon first listening, made an interesting
observation. He said that he thought the guitar playing and the sound on
a few of the songs themselves were reminiscent of Big Brother & The
Holding Company(the house band at the Avalon Ballroom). He saw
similarities with the Airplane and the Buffalo Springfield. I had never
noticed that before (I always considered Tim's music to be unique at
every stage) and I was wondering if you, Lee (having played in San
Francisco at that time) picked up a guitar vibe from the music being
played by Sam Andrew of Big Brother or any of the other bands playing
in town?
LEE: Listeners quite often approach new music with old ears, listening
for what they already know and have already experienced. Thus, they
miss the originality and/or uniqueness of what they are listening to in the
present. They project what they know onto the new, and thereby miss
the new and see only whatever they have perceived or projected onto it
from the past. It makes them feel comfortable (and often egoistically
superior), but it also makes it difficult for the artist to reach them.
Artists are constantly confronted with this problem, although the good
ones don't let it stop them from evolving. Listeners think they mean well
when they hear "influences," but until they can hear and relate to
whatever the artist is bringing to the work that is unique, special, new,
magical, they miss. I don't think Tim had any of the influences your
friend thinks he heard. I traveled to San Francisco as a folk musician,
just as folk music died and 60s rock had begun to emerge, particularly
with the Jefferson Airplane (whom I heard rehearse before their initial
RCA contract). As a dedicated folkie and acoustic player (albeit late to
the folk scene and outdated), I didn't tune into electric rock with any
enthusiasm. I knew Sam Andrew (we both taught guitar at Stu
Goldberg's Marina Music shop), but he was already into electric music
and far ahead of me technically. I did not know of Big Brother or
Buffalo Springfield until later. None of these groups were influences for
me, and I think I can speak for Tim here, too. Tim came out of the folk
scene. His primary reference points early on were Pete Seeger, Odetta,
Fred Neil and, in a literary way (primarily by way of Beckett), Bob
Dylan. Neither one of us was particularly interested in the rock scene at
the time. Most of the rock bands were rooted in the blues form,
endlessly recycling the same chords and licks mined from the same
tradition, while we were doing what we could to flower as original
conceptualists.
JACK: Who were some of your favorite rock bands of the late sixties?
LEE: I liked Buffalo Springfield when I finally heard them. Dr. John got
to me (and to Tim, too). Aretha Franklin was not considered rock, but
she sure knew how to cook. Creem (w/Eric Clapton on guitar) knocked
me out when I heard them in New York, as did Mike Bloomfield
(w/Butterfield). I thought Crosby, Stills and Nash were great, loved their
harmonies and mellow modes. The ultimate favorite of mine to come
out of that period was Pink Floyd. My main preferences and influences,
however, preceded rock, and did not enter the picture with Tim until
after Goodbye and Hello-another story.
JACK: How did the song "Hi Lily" enter Tim's repertoire?
LEE: It was just one of those great tunes he loved from early on, one of
those poignant songs learned in childhood, carried over to the concert
stage.
JACK: Did you ever play Max's Kansas City on Park Ave South in
lower Manhattan?
LEE: I didn't, but Tim did, later on, with his funk-rock group in the later
years.
JACK: Were you ever in there at all, and if so, what did you think of all
that craziness?
LEE: Indeed, Tim and I got smashed in Max's Kansas City with Janis
Joplin and Sam Andrew. Loved the crazies, not only in Max's, but of
that whole period.
JACK: What kind of an influence did Larry Beckett have on Tim
(musically and personally)?
LEE: That's a huge question, Jack, and for purposes of this interview
might best be left in Larry's hands. He and Tim were very close friends
and collaborators during their high school days together, and during the
first two albums. After that, they parted ways, until Tim brought him
back for a few tunes on "Starsailor" and the following albums. There is
no question but that Larry's input with lyrics played a vital role in Tim's
work, especially through the Goodbye and Hello period. After that, Tim
developed himself and his music independently, exploring conceptual
zones well removed from the early folk orientation he and Beckett
shared in the early days. No question about it, Larry was and is a
talented writer, a first-class word-slinger with a top-flight literary mind.
He brought a dimension of intelligence and sensitivity to Tim's music
that played a profound role in Tim's early development. They had one
of the great friendships and working relationships of that era, and
together wrote some of the most well-loved songs of Tim's entire
career, including "Song to the Siren."
JACK: Can we revisit the Fred Neil question? Do you agree or disagree
with the notion that Fred Neil was one of Tim's mentors? {Mary
Guibert said that she and Tim use to sit and listen to Fred play and sing
at Herb Cohen's house while the pictures on the wall would quiver and
shake. She also said that Fred taught Tim how to strum the guitar in the
manner in which he played. Are you aware that Tim said on the
Starwood tape that Fred Neil was one of the only real friends he had?
He really seemed to like Fred. As you well know, Tim played "The
Dolphins" at a lot of his live performances.}
LEE: It seems to me that the Buckley/Neil relationship has been
exaggerated. Yes, Fred was at Herb's house when Tim and Mary stayed
there in the early days, and Tim loved Fred's voice and songs. Later, at
Big Pink in Venice, we often listened to Fred's albums, and Fred's
music could be considered an influence during those early folk and
folk-rock days. Also, Tim dearly loved the "Dolphins" song, and sang it
throughout his career. As for guitar stylings, Tim learned from many
musicians, but developed his own unique style, becoming a superb
12-string player along the way, something that should be pointed out
and celebrated much more than it usually is. As far as I know, Tim did
not "hang out" with Fred in the Village, as has been rumored, and again
as far as I know, they didn't spend time together in the later days. I
suspect--but cannot say for sure--that Tim's comment on the Starwood
tape was not meant literally, but figuratively, in terms of the deep
emotions expressed in "Dolphins" and other songs--a musical friend, a
soul brother, as it were.
JACK: .On a much lighter subject; someone said that Tim told her that
if he could choose another profession it would be professional baseball.
Did he ever mention that to you?
LEE: He never said anything like that seriously to me. That comment
sounds like one of Tim's semi-meaningful jokes, rather like Einstein's
saying he wanted to come back as a plumber. However, I think Tim did
play baseball in junior high or high school, and I know he played with
the DiscReet record company team--shortstop--and was good at it!
JACK:What did you guys think of Blood Sweat and Tears' cover of
"Morning Glory" and Linda Ronstadt's covers of "Wings", "Aren't You
The Girl", and "Morning Glory"?
LEE: Not much.
JACK: Did Tim write "The Father Song" for the movie "Changes" or
was it a personal glimpse at his inner soul?
LEE: He wrote it for "Changes", and it was a personal glimpse of his
inner soul. I've done some extensive writing on Tim of late, much of
which has to do with the relationship between him and his father. To be
continued.
JACK: Would you mind telling us the real meaning behind the lyrics of
"Pleasant Street"?
LEE: Inside the mystery, the beauty remains, yes?
JACK: One of our forum members asked me why you and Tim split up.
I couldn't help him, so now I'm asking you...why did you guys part
ways?
LEE: Tim and I didn't "split up," as some people put it. You may recall
that Tim explored five different musical zones during the course of nine
years, changing personnel and bands as needed for new musical
concepts. Most of his musicians along the way lasted through one
period. I was useful to Tim through four of his five periods over the
course of seven years. When it came to the final "Greetings" period, I
gave it a go, but it didn't work well. Rock 'n' roll was not my musical
forte, and I still had work to do in cleaning up my personal stuff, getting
straight and sober and stable. Tim needed funk-rockers for his band,
which I understood perfectly well. After a six-week mid-1973
"Greetings" tour, he and I parted ways professionally. We remained the
best of friends until his demise in 1975. He continued on the funk-rock
path. I taught myself how to write, and became a well-known music
journalist.
**********************************************************
******************** IN CONCLUSION
LEE: I know there is a great deal I have not talked about, Jack-my
personal life before Tim, my personal life after Tim, various ways in
which I helped Tim learn about music, literature and his own
extraordinary capabilities, various on-the-road anecdotes, highlights,
lowlights, etc. But the story is about him, not me, with my story in his
context being secondary. To the degree that my personal qualities and
actions played an occasionally significant role in his development, they
would certainly fit well in a book, where I can stretch out a bit more and
plumb the depths and heights more thoroughly. Of course, others have
jumped into that marketplace niche, and so my voice may remain
unheard. That makes me feel sad, of course, rather profoundly so.
Nevertheless, I persist in doing what I can to celebrate Tim and his
music. If a publisher were there for a book of mine about Tim. . .
Tim was an extraordinarily bright young man, intellectually and
creatively brilliant. He had a profound affect on me, and on so many
others as well (drummer Buddy Helm's recent interview, for example,
rings with love of Tim in every word, doesn't it?). I have listened to
great artists in music's every genre, from all over the world. Not only art
and entertainment musics, but ancient tribal, cultural and contemporary
sacred musics as well. Of all of the singers I know of, not one has
covered as wide a range of vocal exploration and achievement as Tim.
He still moves me more than others do, and probably always will. His
son Jeff is not to be overlooked either. Of all of the singers, he was the
only one I know of who had the particular temperament, the voice, the
quality of intelligence and the abilities to be influenced by Tim to the
degree that he was. Jeff in his own right was a great singer, the very
best of his day. He and Tim are twin blue stars in the heavens now, and
I love them both. They graced our world with their beauty and made it
forever a better place than it was when they found it. In closing, let me
extend to all of your readers my heartfelt appreciation for the love and
respect they have shown Tim. Over 30 years since Tim began, and
nearly 25 years since his death, listeners are still resonating to the
passion, tenderness, creativity, intensity and beauty that Tim Buckley
brought to music and to our ears. His music holds such enormous truth
in it-the truth of human love, longing, yearning, heartache and
humor-that it remains in our lives even to this day. It will keep on
keepin' on, too. That which is true remains forever. Tim Buckley is
gone, but his Blue Melody sings on.
JACK(Jzero): Lee, on behalf of all our forum members, I'd like to thank
you for this informative interview and for all the wonderful music that
you have given us. It has been an extreme pleasure to have conversed
with you and a privilege to have known you ...even if only for a short
while. May you always stay "this side of sunny".
In the 60s and early 70s, Lee toured, recorded, and played lead guitar
for singer/songwriter Tim Buckley, appearing on seven of Buckley's
nine albums released prior to Tim's untimely death in 1975, and on four
of the six CDs released posthumously.
In addition to writing poetry and short stories, Lee Underwood plays
piano, enjoys hiking, camping and photography, and co-hosts a Fresno
radio show with Preston Chase, "Between the Lines: Poetry to Take
You Home." He has published poems in "In The Grove", "Light of
Consciousness", "Zambamba", "The Central California Poetry Journal"
and "Say Yes". Throughout the '70s and '80s he wrote extensively
about jazz (West Coast Editor, Downbeat, 1975-1981) and Spacemusic
(Body/Mind/Spirit, New Realities, Yoga Journal, others). He co-
authored flutist Paul Horn's autobiography, "Inside Paul Horn" (Harper
Collins, 1990), and received the Crystal Award for Music Journalism in
1991. .Lee Underwood presently lives in Oakhurst, California, in the
mountains near Yosemite.
**********************************************************
********************
Our interview is divided into Four Parts.
Part One consists of Lee's responses to a list of questions that I
e-mailed to him a while ago.
Part Two debates the audience/performer relationship question.
Part Three revolves around "California Sigh".
Part Four contains follow-up questions and the conclusion of the
interview.
PART ONE...THE EARLY DAYS
Our interview begins with Lee's responses to a series of questions on a
variety of subjects related to the early stages of his career, his
relationship with Tim, his views on Tim's first album and "Blue
Afternoon", some technical questions, and a fond memory or two.
I must admit that what follows certainly reads like a shopping list, but
what we actually checkout with, is a shopping cart full of informative
insights.
Q...When did you first pick up a guitar?
Q...Who was your first teacher?
Q...What kind of music did you first play?
Q...Who were your musical influences?
Q...When did you first get on stage?
Q...What kind of band did you play with, or was it a solo appearance
for you?
Q...When did you arrive in Greenwich Village?
Q...Did you live in Manhattan or did you just visit Greenwich Village to
work in the clubs?
Q...How and when did you and Tim meet?
Q...Did Fred Neil hang out with you guys or were you close at all?
Q...Any favorite memories that you'd care to impart?
Q...Which guitars did you use on which albums?
Q...Did you and Tim ever sit and play acoustically together?
Q...Do you still feel that Tim's first album was just a bunch of teenage
love songs ? I'm curious if your opinions of any of Tim's music has
changed at all over the years? I thought that there was a lot of great
guitar playing on that album for a first album attempt.
Q...Did you play lead guitar on all the tracks of that first album?
Q...Do you still feel that Blue Afternoon was an almost effortless
album? I hear some of Tim's most incredible vocals on that album,
don't you?
Q...On the album "Starsailor", was that your guitar on "Song To The
Siren" or Tim's ?
**********************************************************
*****************
LEE UNDERWOOD'S RESPONSES ARE AS FOLLOWS:
LEE: Thanks for including me in your interview series, Jack. You have
been doing wonderful things to honor Tim's memory and bring new
insights to those of us who love his music.
I feel proud to be included among the fine group of people you have
spoken to.
I had been playing guitar for about a year and a half before meeting
Tim. Blues players and folk musicians were primary
influences--Lightnin' Hopkins, Mississippi John Hurt, Sonny Terry &
Brownie McGhee, and a terrific foot-stomping, contemporary
seven-string guitar picker blues- shouter, Spider John Koerner. Among
folk musicians, I loved Odetta, who showed me that folk music did not
have to be simple-minded or unmusical. I also liked Pete, Mike and
Peggy Seeger. Peggy showed me a few licks on guitar, and before that,
Stu Goldberg (owner of Marina Music in San Francisco) taught me
some chords and strums. I got into guitar and writing songs in late '64 .
Throughout 1965, I played and sang solo gigs in coffeehouses in San
Francisco. In the Spring of '66, I drove to NYC, where I met Tim
through a mutual acquaintance, manager Sean O'Brien. Tim asked me
to play guitar on his six-week gig at the Night Owl club in the Village (a
gig held over for more than a month), and on his upcoming debut on
Elektra. He and Jainie Goldstein and Larry Beckett lived in a Village
apartment, while I lived in a rented room. It has been said that Tim
hung out with Fred Neil during this period, and afterwards, in the period
between Tim Buckley and Goodbye and Hello, and that Fred turned
Tim on to heroin. During the first period, I never saw Fred. During the
second period, Fred showed up at a Cafe Au Go Go show. As far as I
know, they did not "hang out" together during either period, and I know
Tim was definitely not into heroin. Like all of us during those early
years, he smoked pot, drank a few beers, occasionally took acid (not for
mere pleasure, but as a psychotropic activator which helped him explore
his psyche in creative ways, i.e. songwriting). After the Night Owl, he
and I and Jainie Goldstein and my girlfriend, Jennifer Stace, and Larry
drove out to L.A., where we recorded "Tim Buckley". Although the
songs on "Tim Buckley" were an unrelated assemblage of high school
loves songs he and Larry Beckett wrote, that did not mean I did not like
them. True, I was coming from the blues school, and my personal
writings were more visceral than, say, "Wings" or "Valentine Melody."
But as I worked with Tim on the material and got acquainted with it, I
found that his music opened up a new dimension in myself-a gentle,
ethereal, tender side I had never known before, perhaps especially in
"Song of the Magician" and "Song Slowly Song." I think one of the
great strengths of that album is its youthful, innocent quality. There is a
beauty there that can never be duplicated. That sensitive, intimate
quality of Tim's earliest music brought out the best in me and became
my favorite emotional climate. My own sense of melodic lyricism was
born on this first album, and became my greatest strength in his music
thereafter. I did play lead guitar on that entire album.[The photo on the
back of "Tim Buckley" was taken at the Night Owl. It includes some of
the bass player's face and his electric bass (I don't recall his name, Andy
something), but leaves out the drummer and me.] Initially, I was playing
a D-28 acoustic six-string Martin guitar, but it couldn't be heard in the
Night Owl, so Tim and I went to a pawn shop, tried out a few guitars,
and I bought a second- hand Epiphone jazz guitar. Later, in L.A., I
purchased a maple-neck Telecaster and a Fender Super Reverb amp
(customized with two 12-inch ElektroVoice speakers).
I suppose some of my favorite memories revolve around the two years
or so we spent in Venice, California, in a pink house two blocks from
the ocean. There in Big Pink, named after the Band's album of the
same name, and later on Park Place, Jennifer painted pictures (including
Tim's portrait, used as the cover of the recently released "Works in
Progress"). Larry used to visit Big Pink with his girlfriend, Manda, a
painter who later became his wife. Another high school friend of Tim's,
writer Dan Gordon, hung out and partied with us, as did several other
friends. Jennifer's son, Michael Cavanaugh, learned how to play piano
at this house. The whole lot of us toodled down to the beach every day,
laid up in the sun, body surfed the waves, walked up and down the
beach collecting seashells, or up and down the boardwalk looking at
Venice Beach characters, or ambled around Pacific Ocean Park, the
amusement park with a roller coaster, ferris wheel, merry- go-round,
restaurants, game booths. We'd come back home and Tim and I would
play music together. Later at night all of us would get high and listen to
Dr. John, Aretha Franklin, Fred Neil, Jimmy Hendrix. It was a time of
great love, creativity and optimism.
You asked about "Blue Afternoon", a much misunderstood album. It
was not "effortless." A great deal of effort was put into it. We gave it
everything we had and performed as well as we could. And, no question
about it, some of Tim's very best songs appear on that album, including
"Blue Melody," which he sang in nearly all of his live performances until
the end, "Cafe," which he also sang off-and-on until the end, "I Must
Have Been Blind" and "The River." However, it was in some ways a
difficult album to do. We had already embarked upon a new conceptual
journey. "Tim Buckley" emerged from folk music. "Goodbye and
Hello" helped create the folk-rock genre. "Happy Sad" drew from jazz
influences. During the "Happy Sad" period, Buckley had begun
exploring vocal improvisation, moving further and further toward
avant-garde jazz and contemporary classical music. With "Lorca", he
introduced some of the odd-time signatures, extended song-forms and
melodic dissonance that emerged from those experiments.
We were well on our way with avant-garde concepts when Jac Holzman
sold Elektra Records and Tim's manager, Herb Cohen, set up a new
label, Straight Records. Herb knew "Lorca" was going to bomb in the
marketplace, and needed a commercially viable album from Tim with
which to launch the new label. He asked Tim to dip into his grab-bag of
old songs, which Tim did. That's how "Blue Afternoon" was born.
(Confusion results here, because although "Lorca" was recorded first,
"Blue Afternoon", recorded immediately after "Lorca", was released
first.) It was difficult to do "Blue Afternoon" because it interrupted the
creative momentum that had been launched with "Lorca". "Blue
Afternoon" was a conceptual throwback to Happy Sad. It interrupted
the directional flow and forced us to regress to an earlier,
now-outmoded period. In other words, having begun the "Lorca"
journey, which led directly to "Starsailor" and the abstract avant- garde
period that followed, it was hard to turn back, regroup, and record the
"Happy Sad"-type music of "Blue Afternoon". This is not to say that we
did not enjoy the music, or that we did not do our best. We did, on both
counts. But it was a shift of direction backwards, which felt unsettling,
and we had to record it quickly-Herb needed the album right away. We
worked hard, we worked fast, and I, for one, am glad we did it.
Otherwise, those terrific songs would simply have settled into oblivion
and never have been heard. It is also proving to be a more popular and
deeply loved album over the long haul than it was at the time. Back
then, except for one review in the New York Times, it was panned or
ignored. Today, many people want to hear it, and it will undoubtedly be
re-issued in CD along with the rest of the catalogue. Meanwhile,
immediately after we finished "Blue Afternoon", we moved forward
again, directly into further developments of the avant-garde concepts,
and into "Starsailor".
In answer to your earlier question...It was Tim's guitar on Starsailor's
"Song to the Siren." On "Works in Progress" however, I played guitar
along with him on that song. Let me also add that bassist John Balkin
played a major role in helping Tim conceive the arrangements on
several of "Starsailor's" tunes-particularly the criss-crossing vocal lines
on some of the upbeat pieces- and especially the overlapping vocal
tracks on "Starsailor."
PART TWO...THE PERFORMER/AUDIENCE RELATIONSHIP
Jack(Jzero): Lee, as you well know, Tim lost his audience in 1970. I,
along with many others, represent a different type of fan than most of
our forum members. You see, we were there watching and listening to
Tim and the band at Central Park, and Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln
Center, and Carnegie Hall, and the Fillmore East. We couldn't help but
feel that we were a part of it too. But, we were on the other side of the
stage. We were buying the tickets and buying the albums and listening
to Tim's music for hours on end. We have a completely different
perspective than you and I'm afraid that I'm one of those fans who
temporarily left Tim after "Starsailor" came out. I returned to Tim's
music with "Greetings", but I was totally disenchanted and I felt that I
lost a good friend when Tim's music went in a different direction. I can
now appreciate "Starsailor" to some extent, but as a youngster I was lost.
When I started the forum, I had a reason and a goal to reach within a
certain time frame. My intention, strictly as an ardent fan, was to see if
I could find out why Tim didn't become the icon that he should have
become. In my mind there were two reasons why it didn't happen. I
was angry and I just wanted to blame someone, and now I see how
selfish and foolish that mind set was. Nevertheless, I started this project
with the pre-conceived notions that the "Lorca"/"Starsailor" albums and
poor management were the culprits. I've been at this for nine months
and instead of coming to a decisive conclusion, I've now added a third
reason. That reason would be Tim's own fear of success and inability to
handle fame. Allegedly, Herb Cohen felt that you "jazzers", as he
referred to Tim's band, had Tim under your spell. I personally don't
believe that, after having heard everyone's take on Tim's love for jazz
and the jazz greats. I do however have some tough questions for you
about that "Lorca"/"Starsailor" period.
I apologize if any of them offend you. I really do apologize in advance
because I've come to appreciate you and your talent a great deal in the
last six months.
Q...I know that Tim was an artist only looking to grow, but why didn't
he care about his audience(you know, the people who had supported
him and praised him for over 3 years)?
Q...I also know that he felt that he was going to die young, but why
destroy the career that he had worked so hard to build?
Q...You guys had to know that if "Lorca" bombed then "Starsailor"
would bomb also. Was Tim cognizant at all of what his contemporaries
were doing?
Q...Did he lack a competitive nature or was he (after only three
albums)already tired of competing?
Q...What spawned this "let the public be damned" attitude?
Q...Was it management?
Q...Was it the label?
Q...Was it his personal life?
Q... He literally threw it all away. He could have gotten into jazz a little
more gradually and gotten away with it. Why didn't he see that he was
going in the wrong direction commercially after "Lorca" bombed? Why
didn't he care about that?
Q...Some people say that the "jazzers" were leading Tim by the nose.
He was younger and pressure from band members was the reason for
his choice of direction. Was he that weak?
Q...Will you take this opportunity to debate these theories or will these
questions be left unanswered?
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LEE UNDERWOOD: Thanks for giving me an opportunity to talk
about that issue, Jack.
More than a few people share your feelings about the matter, so when I
say "you," I mean not only you personally (whenever it fits you in your
own mind), but a more general "you," whenever what I'm saying fits the
larger group of people who feel as you do. It seems to me that you are
basing your comments and questions on a fundamental negative
assumption: that Tim did something "wrong" both artistically and
commercially when he created the concepts and music that went into
the Lorca/Starsailor albums. And you would like an explanation. I don't
think I would be off-base if I said you (and others who feel the same
way) felt disappointed, resentful, baffled and offended, first with Lorca,
then with Starsailor. Disappointed, that Tim was not giving you more of
the kind of music you had come to love in earlier albums, notably
Happy Sad and Goodbye and Hello. Resentful, that he was giving you
instead, a kind of music that you couldn't relate to, didn't understand
and therefore didn't like. Baffled, by the sheer strangeness and
unorthodoxy of the music. And offended, that he not only did not seem
to care about you and your hurt feelings, but he seemed at times to even
be defiant and hostile when you complained about the music and the
concept and refused to support him either as a listener or a consumer.
You indicate that instead of feeling dazzled by the new vocal techniques
and compositional/improvisational innovations, you felt "disenchanted."
You felt as though you had "lost a friend." And yet, look closely at what
happened. It was you, was it not?, who insisted that he give you what
you wanted--more of the music you already loved. It was you, who
wanted him and his music to fit your mind set, rather than adjusting
your mind set to his. It was the collective you who felt he should be
more like a conventional entertainer who catered to your expectations,
tastes and limited capacities for enjoying the new and unusual in
music--after all, he "owed you," because you had "supported and
praised him" for over three years, and now here he was, refusing "to
care about his audience." You blame him for leaving you, when, in
truth, it was you who turned your back and abandoned him when he
ventured into territory that was too new and strange for you to
comprehend, embrace, understand and enjoy.
You ask, "Why did he destroy a career he had worked so hard to
build?" Why don't you ask instead, "Why did WE destroy his career?"
You might have said what a number of receptive, enthusiastic listeners
did say--"Wow, look what he's doing with his voice. Look how he's
creating new song forms. Look how far he has transcended
conventional pop music and left his orthodox, blues-oriented,
conventional peers behind. Look how fast and how far he moved, first
into jazz (with Happy Sad), then into avant-garde jazz and
contemporary classical music (with Lorca and Starsailor). Look at the
adventurous new musical dimensions and bedazzling psychological
domains he is revealing to us. Look at how new and exciting and
original and thrilling this new music is. By listening to it, by giving
myself to it, by letting it touch me and deeply affect me, he makes me
into a whole new person. Wow, this is great!" Instead of reacting like
that, you abandoned him and accused him of abandoning you. He loved
you so much that he gave you something new instead of repeating the
same old pop formulas--his own, and the other rock 'n' rollers--and yet
you refused to open yourself to the music and follow his lead. Instead,
you decided to feel "disenchanted." You could have felt respected,
challenged and dazzled, but you didn't, and then you blamed him
instead of yourself and your own limitations. You stood in the presence
of genius, and yet wanted from him only the repetition of what you
already felt comfortable with. He gave you diamonds. You wanted
pebbles. As philosopher Arthur Schopenhaur once put it, "The man of
talent is like a marksman who hits a target others cannot hit, but the
man of genius is like a marksman who hits a target others cannot see."
You say you know "he felt he was going to die young," and that you
know he "was an artist only looking to grow," and you say, "I can now
appreciate Starsailor." That is, you say you can see now what he saw
then, but this "now" is 30 years after the fact. Was he supposed to wait
for you to catch up before he gave you his masterpieces? That was the
point. It wasn't a "damn the public" attitude--he loved you, but he knew
there was no time, he couldn't wait for you, he had to get it done while
the vision was with him. And it wasn't that he "wasn't competitive,"
either. To the contrary, he was taking on the entire mass-mind domain
in the recording industry, in radio, concert production, other pop
musicians, and, most of all, you, the audience, the people who
supposedly "loved him" and regarded him as your "friend" (as long as
he fit your preconceived ways of thinking and feeling). He was daring to
pursue a new vision, a unique way of seeing and hearing. He stood
alone after you and his other so-called friends turned their backs,
because he believed in the beauty and intensity of his music, and he
respected you enough to give you something new instead of merely
doling out the usual musical pap of the day. He had enormous hope for
the music, and enormous confidence in himself and in the power and
grace and beauty of what he was doing. He wasn't merely trying to
churn out hits or manipulate your tastes and preconceptions for dollars.
He was giving himself up to something much greater than himself, to
something grand. He never felt better than he did when creating and
fulfilling the Lorca/Starsailor concepts. George Bernard Shaw in Man
and Superman described this feeling of strength and creative integrity
when he said, "This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose
recognized by yourself as a mighty one;. . .the being a force of Nature
instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances
complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."
Of course, Tim suspected you would reject Lorca/Starsailor music. Of
course he knew it "wasn't commercial," because he knew you. But he
wasn't playing the businessman game. He was a genuine
uncompromising artist on the one hand, and he loved you, the listener,
on the other. He refused to exploit you by going backwards creatively to
his old music or pandering to your pop-music tastes, and gave you
brilliance instead. He dared to step out of the immediacy of his own his
day and time, dared to compete--not within conventional values and
structures, but outside those protective conventions, on his own
terms--and dared to follow the sound of his own musical vision until he
fulfilled it. From mid-1968 until early 1972 he did everything he could
to make his Starsailor music successful. He gave three and a half years
to it--more time and effort and creative energy than he devoted to any
other of the five musical phases he explored during the course of his
nine brief years. Listeners wanted him to be "an icon" because they
wanted to like someone who was a big deal in other peoples' eyes. They
wanted to like music that other people liked, too. "See what a big deal
he is? And isn't his music great?" In other words, they wanted to use
Tim and his music to inflate their own egos. When Tim came out with
Lorca and Starsailor, they couldn't do that. He wasn't understood and
embraced by everybody else. Listeners had to choose between
remaining in the herd or stepping outside into the cold, alone, where
Tim was, sailing among blue stars, beckoning you to summon up
courage and imagination enough to follow. Some listeners did. Others
didn't. Those who couldn't understand did not blame themselves for
being unable to get it, nor did they blame themselves for becoming
turncoats. Instead, they pouted and cursed, and blamed Tim. Seems to
me that most of them haven't gotten over it to this day. They are still
"feverish selfish little clods of ailments and grievances" complaining that
Tim didn't devote himself to making them happy. More and more,
however, I see people waking up to what he accomplished, and that
warms my heart and gives me hope that it is not impossible for people
to awaken, grow and evolve.
As for management, how can anybody "blame" Herb Cohen? He didn't
like the Lorca/Starsailor music any more than you or your friends did.
He came at it purely from a business standpoint: these musics did not fit
industrially proven models of what is "commercial." He wanted Tim to
change--in fact, as discussed elsewhere, he insisted Tim dig up some
previously created songs and record Blue Afternoon immediately after
Lorca, so he (Herb) could get an album of conventional material out
there before Lorca's release. And then, when Tim went ahead and
recorded Starsailor and insisted on further developing the Starsailor
concepts in live performances, Herb refused to be his manager. First of
all, "blame" in any sense of the word is not appropriate, and I think the
notion of "culprit" is dead-wrong, because Tim was not doing something
wrong in the first place; secondly, Herb did everything he could to make
Tim return to orthodox pop music. So how can you or anybody else
"blame" management? Herb did what he could, and Tim was making
the bravest most musically positive statement of which he was capable.
So Herb threw him away. And there was Tim, stranded, but unbroken;
by himself, but courageous. As psychologist Wayne Dyer once wrote,
"Willingness to confront fear is called courage. . .Courage means flying
in the face of criticism, relying on yourself, being willing to accept and
learn from the consequences of all your choices. It means believing
enough in yourself and in living your life as you choose so that you cut
the strings whose ends other people hold and use to pull you in contrary
directions." I know Buddy Helm said that allegedly Herb called us
"jazzers" and said we held Tim under our spell, that I and John Balkin
and other Starsailaor musicians were leading Tim by the nose, that Tim
was younger and peer pressure was the reason for his choice of
direction. I am not convinced it was Herb who said that, and not Buddy
himself, but it probably was indeed Herb.
And then you ask, "Was [Tim] that weak?" Tim was a very bright guy.
From day-one, he gathered intelligent, well-educated people around him.
He knew he wasn't going to learn what he needed by going to public
schools. Instead, he chose to gather knowledgeable people around him,
and learn what he needed from them. As he changed perspectives,
moving from folk, to folk-rock, to jazz, avant-garde and funk-rock, he
changed the people and teachers around him. Most people lasted
through one, maybe two of the five phases before running out of
information and insight. I lasted through four. He inhaled their
knowledge, utilized whatever he regarded as relevant, combined it with
his own talent, intelligence and creative perspective, and evolved as a
human being and musician. He opened himself to those who could give
him information and received from them whatever they offered of
value--peer pressure? Emphatically, no. It was he, not they, who set the
course and led the way; he, not they, who decided what was valuable
and relevant; he, not they, who made the decisions about concepts and
directions. At every step on the journey, including his final funk-rock
period, he was the one who carried the flag forward. Weak? Hardly. He
was one of the most responsible, courageous, imaginative human beings
and musicians I have ever known. Seems to me he deserves a heck of a
lot of respect for this--in fact, if he had been weak and deferred to peer
pressure during the Lorca/Starsailor period, he would have bowed his
head to the collective you and Herb Cohen and some of his personal
so-called friends who also abandoned him; he would have bowed his
head to Jac Holzman and other record company executives; he would
have catered to popular tastes instead of conceiving and recording Lorca
and Starsailor, and then daring to spend the following two years playing
Starsailor music in public whenever he could. He was never under
anybody's spell. He was his own man, and deserves to be respected for
that. I, for one, tip my hat. He had balls.
After spending all the time and energy he could in fulfilling the Starsailor
concepts, the time came to change. Where could he go after the
abstract, cerebrally exciting, avant-garde extravaganzas of Starsailor? To
the opposite extreme, of course, namely funk-rock dance music,
sex-drenched rock 'n' roll. His wife liked it. Herb liked it. You liked it.
Greetings From L.A. was born in late 1972 as another natural
evolutionary phase in the on-going musical journey. Yes, it partly had to
do with money, because by this time the collective you had rendered
him broke, but it also had to do with music--he had always come up
with new ideas, phasing from one dimension into another, and he was
doing it again. He had fulfilled the Starsailor concepts, and now it was
time to move on. In this case, his funk-rock music merged everything
he had developed in the past with everything new he was working on in
the present: great songs, spectacular Starsailor vocal improvisations,
crotch-rock rhythms, passion, humor. To my mind, this last phase had
it all: sex, heart and smarts. It lasted through three albums, ending with
his death in 1975.
Of course, as soon as Greetings appeared, a whole new batch of
grumpy listeners came out of the woodwork, calling Buckley a sell-out.
Different music, same situation. No matter what Tim did, those who
would not allow themselves to follow and experience Buckley's changes
inevitably condemned him instead of themselves. What a shame, not
only for him, but especially for those who missed him along the way.
Every single one of his aesthetic/stylistic periods offered a different kind
of beauty, intensity and value. Listeners who allowed themselves to be
touched by each stage gained everything Buckley had to offer. In my
opinion, he offered more than any other single singer/songwriter of his
day. I am reminded of pianist Bill Evans' words, "My creed for art in
general is that it should enrich the soul. It should teach spiritually by
showing a person a portion of himself that he would not discover
otherwise. . . That's the real mission of art." I think Buckley did that in
a dozen different ways. Perpaps the most complex of those ways was
the music contained in Lorca and Startsailor, and, indeed, sometimes
listeners need a little help. I can understand and appreciate that.
Although I wrote the following passage a few months ago, some readers
may have missed it. Maybe it would be helpful if we included it here--
"It is true that much of the music on Tim's Starsailor album is difficult,
complex, and far-removed from conventional forms of popular music.
Listeners who approach Starsailor unprepared for Tim's extraordinary
innovations on this album may find themselves a bit confused, even
intimidated...but only initially. If they give themselves and the music a
chance, by listening more than once and by opening their hearts and
minds and tapping into their own sense of adventure, they will discover
why Tim himself regarded this album as his masterpiece. They will also
find out why writer Michael Bourne of Downbeat Magazine gave the
album five stars and a rave review, and why writer Lester Bangs of
Creem Magazine said of Tim, after listening to Starsailor, "I steadfastly
maintain that Tim Buckley is one of the most underrated and
misunderstood musicians ever to develop out of the dead-end of rock
into the free-form fusion of rock and jazz coupled with his already
original sound." Tim had already explored folk music, folk/rock and
mainstream jazz. With Starsailor, he dared to move into territory that
was completely uncharted in pop music. He created new song forms on
this album, and dove into odd time signatures (moving away from
conventional 4/4 rhythms, into 5/4, 7/4 and 10/4), and combined basic
harmonies with dazzling original discordant criss-crossing melodic lines.
Tim also wrote some of the most vividly impassioned lyrics he had ever
penned. I was proud to be included on this project. At that time, I was
exploring new techniques and new sonic approaches to music in general
and guitar music in particular. I used both hands on the fretboard,
playing criss-crossing lines that created percussive atmospheres,
enharmonic sound-washes and brightly colored tonal textures previously
unheard of. My own technical and musical innovations, and my
adventurous creative spirit at the time, complimented Tim's. We were
definitely in sync with one another at this point in our careers. Together
with bassist John Balkin, trumpet and sax players Buzz and Bunk
Gardner, tympani-drummer Maury Baker and engineer Stan Agol, we
created extraordinary music that to this day has remained unmatched.
Interestingly enough, Jeff Buckley was thoroughly enamored of Tim's
vocal and conceptual innovations on "Starsailor". Although Jeff often
criticized his father in public, he intelligently and wisely chose Tim as
his mentor. He listened over and over to Tim's music, especially
Starsailor, and incorporated many of Tim's original techniques into his
own arsenal of potent and exceptionally beautiful skills. Listeners who
love Jeff's music are in many instances loving Tim's music too, perhaps
without being aware of it. Those people who give Tim's Starsailor music
a receptive, open-minded hearing will find themselves transported into a
psycho-sonic inner world that will prove both incredibly exciting and
profoundly nourishing. If we are brave enough and adventurous enough,
we can discover for ourselves the power, grace and beauty that Tim and
his musicians and the sound engineer on this album found almost thirty
years ago. Clearly, the music still lives. It is here with us now... as vital
and beautiful as it was in 1970. The music itself is alive and singing...all
we need are the ears to hear it--once this music touches us, we will
wonder how we could have missed it in the first place! "
**********************************************************
****
JACK(Jzero): I don't believe one word you just said...LOL... Just
kidding.
Gee-Lee, I think I hit a nerve there. I thought that I was Tim's biggest
fan. You pounced on those questions like a bulldog on a fresh cooked
leg of lamb. Seems like you wanted to say those things for years. I'm
glad I gave you an opportunity to vent your feelings at my expense. I'll
get even with you somehow LOL. ...Excuse me while I wipe the egg off
my face and bow at your feet. I'm not worthy...I'm not worthy...I'm not
worthy!!!
All kidding aside Lee, you made some incredibly good points in your
argument. I think that everyone would agree with most of what you
said. I have to tell you that it wasn't easy asking you those questions.
Your responses were captivating to say the least. You clearly made
several points that gave me and those who felt as I do a real lesson in
understanding.
You also taught me something else through our little debate here. I've
learned that I didn't really understand the Tim Buckley that I thought I
knew. I was always aware that Tim was an artist, but only recently did I
find out the true meaning of the word "artist". I've also discovered that
the role of a true lover of art is one of a quiet observer. One can only
watch and listen to a true artist and revel in the good fortune to have
been able to grasp the meaning of what that artist is trying to say. My
ignorance was profoundly brought to light in this dialogue, and I've
become a better person for having learned that my opinions on anyone's
art are no more important than those of a fly on the wall of a museum.
Tim Buckley never compromised. His art always came first.
LEE UNDERWOOD: By bringing forth your insight that "the role of a
true lover of art is that of a quiet observer", you put in a nutshell the
way in which audiences can best perceive, understand and appreciate an
authentic artist such as Tim. Seems to me, that is a tremendous service
to both Tim and the audience, do you agree?
JACK(Jzero):Yes I do. Let's move on, shall we?
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PART THREE... "CALIFORNIA SIGH"
JACK(Jzero):Has anyone in this forum ever heard Lee Underwood's
collection of acoustic guitar instrumentals entitled "California Sigh"? A
copy of the audio cassette was sent to me by Dan Patrick of San Jose. I
asked Lee when he recorded the album, if he wrote all the songs, and
which guitar or guitars he used. I wanted to know what genre he was
working in. I would say: New Age/ClassicalJazz/Folk/Flamenco. Sort of
Steve Howe meets Andres Segovia and Oscar Oleman. I wondered
whether there were any liner notes available for this splendid work and
if the sounds of nature in the background were real or computer
generated. Lastly, I asked Lee which brass-wind or reed instruments
were used on "The Other Side Of Sunny" and "Midnight Blue".
LEE UNDERWOOD:It is amazing to me how sooner or later
everything gets discovered. "California Sigh" is not widely known,
primarily because it emerges from a particular stage of my musical life,
one of my most cherished, heartfelt and decidedly non-commercial
periods. From there, I went on to evolve in a variety of different ways.
Once I left the "California Sigh" zone, I did not look back. Hence, Cal
Sigh has become something of a little-known open secret. I played a
D-28 Martin six-string acoustic guitar on Cal Sigh, composed all of the
material, recorded it in 1988, released it independently, have only a very
few copies left. The masters are no longer in existence. As a result, the
cassette tapes have become collector's items. I don't know if I'm up for
selling them or not. I suppose that will depend upon the individuals who
want them. Synthesist Steve Roach did the engineering on that tape, and
played synthesizer on "Midnight Blue," which is the most active,
excitement-oriented piece on Cal Sigh. All of the other pieces are
intentionally soft, gentle, and mostly simple in structure, presentation
and mood. I sequenced the pieces, not in terms of commercial
sensation-oriented order, but in terms of a single listening
experience-candlelight, laying back, eyes closed, beginning with "Gentle
Rain," relaxing, moving deeper into quietude, following the line of
musical development from simplicity into quiet complexity, until the
final three pieces include Kevin Braheny on synthesizer and melodic
Electronic Wind Instrument for the supremely gentle "The Other Side of
Sunny"; Steve Roach, synthesizer on the intense, dark-side "Midnight
Blue"; and pedal steel player Chaz Smith on the lyrical, optimistic,
nature-oriented final piece, "Aspen Trails." The streams, birds, wind-are
all real, not electronic. Everything about the album is intended to be
gentle, quiet, emotionally inclusive, optimistic, heartfelt. It has nothing
to do with mental stimulation, emotional disruption, radio-music or
corporate ideas of what is "commercial." It has everything to do with
inner peace. As a result, many listeners conditioned by orthodox,
mainstream approaches to guitar music do not quite know what to make
of it. They are used to short, flashy, continually changing, bombastic,
thrilling, electric, sense-blistering approaches to music, often with
vocals. I call my low-keyed, all- instrumental acoustic pieces meditation
music or serenity music. As you know, quietude in music is a radical
departure from conventional popular music. If listeners listen to
California Sigh from start to finish, they will experience it as a single
musical experience, an inward psycho-spiritual journey, a heart-song as
beautiful, quiet and relaxing as I could make it. I did not draw from
individual or generic influences, but made the guitar stylings as personal
and original as I could. I don't have favorite pieces. For different
reasons, each one is unique and special to me, rather like children. The
other pieces you mentioned, "Speedy Twang" and "Sexy Thang," come
from yet another time, Santa Fe in the early to mid-'90s. It too was
D-28 acoustic guitar, with amplifier. This period included Cal Sigh
music, but also moved into more mainstream-oriented concepts, with
4/4 rhythms and a funkier orientation, with increasing technical flash, a
different dimension, purpose and approach, accessible to more people
than California Sigh. Again, there were no reference points for me, no
Jimmy Page or anybody else, just personal evolutionary inner
explorations that flowered into unique guitar music. During that time, I
was playing solo guitar in Santa Fe's hotels and lounges, occasionally
giving concerts, having a great time. I never made a full-length tape of
this period. Ah, well. I kept playing guitar until three years ago. These
days, I'm into piano.
**********************************************************
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PART FOUR... FOLLOW-UP QUESTIONS AND CONCLUSION
JACK: It sounds to me like it didn't take much time for you to learn
how to play the electric guitar. Were you a child prodigy?
LEE: Initially, played acoustic guitar, then electric. Already knew basic
theory and had learned relative pitch from earlier years, both of which
helped enormously in learning guitar and in improvising.
JACK: I've recently turned someone on to Tim's music and I began by
giving him a compilation tape of Tim's work. My friend(this newcomer
to the world of Tim Buckley) upon first listening, made an interesting
observation. He said that he thought the guitar playing and the sound on
a few of the songs themselves were reminiscent of Big Brother & The
Holding Company(the house band at the Avalon Ballroom). He saw
similarities with the Airplane and the Buffalo Springfield. I had never
noticed that before (I always considered Tim's music to be unique at
every stage) and I was wondering if you, Lee (having played in San
Francisco at that time) picked up a guitar vibe from the music being
played by Sam Andrew of Big Brother or any of the other bands playing
in town?
LEE: Listeners quite often approach new music with old ears, listening
for what they already know and have already experienced. Thus, they
miss the originality and/or uniqueness of what they are listening to in the
present. They project what they know onto the new, and thereby miss
the new and see only whatever they have perceived or projected onto it
from the past. It makes them feel comfortable (and often egoistically
superior), but it also makes it difficult for the artist to reach them.
Artists are constantly confronted with this problem, although the good
ones don't let it stop them from evolving. Listeners think they mean well
when they hear "influences," but until they can hear and relate to
whatever the artist is bringing to the work that is unique, special, new,
magical, they miss. I don't think Tim had any of the influences your
friend thinks he heard. I traveled to San Francisco as a folk musician,
just as folk music died and 60s rock had begun to emerge, particularly
with the Jefferson Airplane (whom I heard rehearse before their initial
RCA contract). As a dedicated folkie and acoustic player (albeit late to
the folk scene and outdated), I didn't tune into electric rock with any
enthusiasm. I knew Sam Andrew (we both taught guitar at Stu
Goldberg's Marina Music shop), but he was already into electric music
and far ahead of me technically. I did not know of Big Brother or
Buffalo Springfield until later. None of these groups were influences for
me, and I think I can speak for Tim here, too. Tim came out of the folk
scene. His primary reference points early on were Pete Seeger, Odetta,
Fred Neil and, in a literary way (primarily by way of Beckett), Bob
Dylan. Neither one of us was particularly interested in the rock scene at
the time. Most of the rock bands were rooted in the blues form,
endlessly recycling the same chords and licks mined from the same
tradition, while we were doing what we could to flower as original
conceptualists.
JACK: Who were some of your favorite rock bands of the late sixties?
LEE: I liked Buffalo Springfield when I finally heard them. Dr. John got
to me (and to Tim, too). Aretha Franklin was not considered rock, but
she sure knew how to cook. Creem (w/Eric Clapton on guitar) knocked
me out when I heard them in New York, as did Mike Bloomfield
(w/Butterfield). I thought Crosby, Stills and Nash were great, loved their
harmonies and mellow modes. The ultimate favorite of mine to come
out of that period was Pink Floyd. My main preferences and influences,
however, preceded rock, and did not enter the picture with Tim until
after Goodbye and Hello-another story.
JACK: How did the song "Hi Lily" enter Tim's repertoire?
LEE: It was just one of those great tunes he loved from early on, one of
those poignant songs learned in childhood, carried over to the concert
stage.
JACK: Did you ever play Max's Kansas City on Park Ave South in
lower Manhattan?
LEE: I didn't, but Tim did, later on, with his funk-rock group in the later
years.
JACK: Were you ever in there at all, and if so, what did you think of all
that craziness?
LEE: Indeed, Tim and I got smashed in Max's Kansas City with Janis
Joplin and Sam Andrew. Loved the crazies, not only in Max's, but of
that whole period.
JACK: What kind of an influence did Larry Beckett have on Tim
(musically and personally)?
LEE: That's a huge question, Jack, and for purposes of this interview
might best be left in Larry's hands. He and Tim were very close friends
and collaborators during their high school days together, and during the
first two albums. After that, they parted ways, until Tim brought him
back for a few tunes on "Starsailor" and the following albums. There is
no question but that Larry's input with lyrics played a vital role in Tim's
work, especially through the Goodbye and Hello period. After that, Tim
developed himself and his music independently, exploring conceptual
zones well removed from the early folk orientation he and Beckett
shared in the early days. No question about it, Larry was and is a
talented writer, a first-class word-slinger with a top-flight literary mind.
He brought a dimension of intelligence and sensitivity to Tim's music
that played a profound role in Tim's early development. They had one
of the great friendships and working relationships of that era, and
together wrote some of the most well-loved songs of Tim's entire
career, including "Song to the Siren."
JACK: Can we revisit the Fred Neil question? Do you agree or disagree
with the notion that Fred Neil was one of Tim's mentors? {Mary
Guibert said that she and Tim use to sit and listen to Fred play and sing
at Herb Cohen's house while the pictures on the wall would quiver and
shake. She also said that Fred taught Tim how to strum the guitar in the
manner in which he played. Are you aware that Tim said on the
Starwood tape that Fred Neil was one of the only real friends he had?
He really seemed to like Fred. As you well know, Tim played "The
Dolphins" at a lot of his live performances.}
LEE: It seems to me that the Buckley/Neil relationship has been
exaggerated. Yes, Fred was at Herb's house when Tim and Mary stayed
there in the early days, and Tim loved Fred's voice and songs. Later, at
Big Pink in Venice, we often listened to Fred's albums, and Fred's
music could be considered an influence during those early folk and
folk-rock days. Also, Tim dearly loved the "Dolphins" song, and sang it
throughout his career. As for guitar stylings, Tim learned from many
musicians, but developed his own unique style, becoming a superb
12-string player along the way, something that should be pointed out
and celebrated much more than it usually is. As far as I know, Tim did
not "hang out" with Fred in the Village, as has been rumored, and again
as far as I know, they didn't spend time together in the later days. I
suspect--but cannot say for sure--that Tim's comment on the Starwood
tape was not meant literally, but figuratively, in terms of the deep
emotions expressed in "Dolphins" and other songs--a musical friend, a
soul brother, as it were.
JACK: .On a much lighter subject; someone said that Tim told her that
if he could choose another profession it would be professional baseball.
Did he ever mention that to you?
LEE: He never said anything like that seriously to me. That comment
sounds like one of Tim's semi-meaningful jokes, rather like Einstein's
saying he wanted to come back as a plumber. However, I think Tim did
play baseball in junior high or high school, and I know he played with
the DiscReet record company team--shortstop--and was good at it!
JACK:What did you guys think of Blood Sweat and Tears' cover of
"Morning Glory" and Linda Ronstadt's covers of "Wings", "Aren't You
The Girl", and "Morning Glory"?
LEE: Not much.
JACK: Did Tim write "The Father Song" for the movie "Changes" or
was it a personal glimpse at his inner soul?
LEE: He wrote it for "Changes", and it was a personal glimpse of his
inner soul. I've done some extensive writing on Tim of late, much of
which has to do with the relationship between him and his father. To be
continued.
JACK: Would you mind telling us the real meaning behind the lyrics of
"Pleasant Street"?
LEE: Inside the mystery, the beauty remains, yes?
JACK: One of our forum members asked me why you and Tim split up.
I couldn't help him, so now I'm asking you...why did you guys part
ways?
LEE: Tim and I didn't "split up," as some people put it. You may recall
that Tim explored five different musical zones during the course of nine
years, changing personnel and bands as needed for new musical
concepts. Most of his musicians along the way lasted through one
period. I was useful to Tim through four of his five periods over the
course of seven years. When it came to the final "Greetings" period, I
gave it a go, but it didn't work well. Rock 'n' roll was not my musical
forte, and I still had work to do in cleaning up my personal stuff, getting
straight and sober and stable. Tim needed funk-rockers for his band,
which I understood perfectly well. After a six-week mid-1973
"Greetings" tour, he and I parted ways professionally. We remained the
best of friends until his demise in 1975. He continued on the funk-rock
path. I taught myself how to write, and became a well-known music
journalist.
**********************************************************
******************** IN CONCLUSION
LEE: I know there is a great deal I have not talked about, Jack-my
personal life before Tim, my personal life after Tim, various ways in
which I helped Tim learn about music, literature and his own
extraordinary capabilities, various on-the-road anecdotes, highlights,
lowlights, etc. But the story is about him, not me, with my story in his
context being secondary. To the degree that my personal qualities and
actions played an occasionally significant role in his development, they
would certainly fit well in a book, where I can stretch out a bit more and
plumb the depths and heights more thoroughly. Of course, others have
jumped into that marketplace niche, and so my voice may remain
unheard. That makes me feel sad, of course, rather profoundly so.
Nevertheless, I persist in doing what I can to celebrate Tim and his
music. If a publisher were there for a book of mine about Tim. . .
Tim was an extraordinarily bright young man, intellectually and
creatively brilliant. He had a profound affect on me, and on so many
others as well (drummer Buddy Helm's recent interview, for example,
rings with love of Tim in every word, doesn't it?). I have listened to
great artists in music's every genre, from all over the world. Not only art
and entertainment musics, but ancient tribal, cultural and contemporary
sacred musics as well. Of all of the singers I know of, not one has
covered as wide a range of vocal exploration and achievement as Tim.
He still moves me more than others do, and probably always will. His
son Jeff is not to be overlooked either. Of all of the singers, he was the
only one I know of who had the particular temperament, the voice, the
quality of intelligence and the abilities to be influenced by Tim to the
degree that he was. Jeff in his own right was a great singer, the very
best of his day. He and Tim are twin blue stars in the heavens now, and
I love them both. They graced our world with their beauty and made it
forever a better place than it was when they found it. In closing, let me
extend to all of your readers my heartfelt appreciation for the love and
respect they have shown Tim. Over 30 years since Tim began, and
nearly 25 years since his death, listeners are still resonating to the
passion, tenderness, creativity, intensity and beauty that Tim Buckley
brought to music and to our ears. His music holds such enormous truth
in it-the truth of human love, longing, yearning, heartache and
humor-that it remains in our lives even to this day. It will keep on
keepin' on, too. That which is true remains forever. Tim Buckley is
gone, but his Blue Melody sings on.
JACK(Jzero): Lee, on behalf of all our forum members, I'd like to thank
you for this informative interview and for all the wonderful music that
you have given us. It has been an extreme pleasure to have conversed
with you and a privilege to have known you ...even if only for a short
while. May you always stay "this side of sunny".
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