Plume/Penguin, 1994
ISBN 0-452-27407-9Joel Selvin, staff writer for the San Francisco Chronicle, has written a book detailing the rise of the "San Francisco Sound" of the mid to late 1960's. Here's the story of the last great creative gasp in the development of Rock and Rock music; before it became a mannered, corporate art form.
The book is written in a narrative style, in a sometimes tortured prose. It sometimes reads like a first draft, written under deadline pressure. The book is deficient as an historical source, as it doesn't identify the source of any of the events or incidents reported; some, probably innocent misrepresentations mangled by thirty years distance. The author lists the people he interviewed in the acknowledgment, and some interesting stories don't have a first person source, although they may have been reported in earlier books. These faults have produced a text, which in light of the sordid details presented, can be criticized as mere gossip. A better document might be the promised academic dissertation by Selvin's research assistant.
These are really minor gripes, at least for those of us interested in the music and personalities which emerged from the mid-1960's San Francisco dance hall scene. The early careers of many of the now legendary figures of the SF scene are presented in great gory detail. Many were deeply involved in drugs, many (it almost seems like most) abandoned wives and children on the pipe dream chance of musical success. Living conditions, communal for many of the proto-bands, were oftentimes squalid. The nascent QMS lived in a leaky shack out on the mudflats; living on an abandoned farm, members of Big Brother were forced to strangle several kittens who had developed distemper due to the band neglecting to bring them for their shots. And if the (now) deeply pious Carlos Santana believes in karma, he must be sweating bullets over some of the depraved epsiodes of his youth. Was this hincty post-beat, (mostly) pre-boomer generation persuing the state of HOLY GOOFdom?
Acid was a major factor on the scene, with lots of casualties; Skip Spence among them. From a Nineties perspective, the tradition of "dosing", subjecting people to unwanted (maybe unknowing is more accurate) ingestion of LSD, seems particularly outrageous. Can you imagine the furor at this practice today? Or Kantner and Balin tossing handfuls of Orange Sunshine out into the audience? Was it an assumption that anyone participating in the scene was more or less amenable to mind alteration? How many of those young participants grew into hysterical yuppies who now scream bloody murder if they see someone light a cigarette from 100 yards away?
Bill Graham is presented here in all his fury; as a short tempered, greedy, violent man, who never made a friend he didn't suspect of trying to undercut his business. Given the nature of this portrayal, would the portrait have been so negative if people had been talking before his death? One of the better stories in the book is Bill's reaction to his first dosing - he jumps up on stage, grabs a tambourine, and spends the rest of the evening blissfully banging away.
Selvin's personal opinions in regard to the music of the era, though not explicitly stated, are evident from the tone of his writings; he seems to consider the Jefferson Airplane as premier among the San Francisco bands. There's plenty here on most of the bands springing up around the time and place in question, some I've never heard of. Also interesting is his view of the career of Janis Joplin. Contrary to the legend that's grown about this singer since her death, Selvin paints a career with few high spots (Monterey Pop, a brief European tour), and many musical failures, all awash in drug soaked misery.
There are eight pages of black and white photos, including record covers, publicity shots, concert posters, Matthew Katz's business card and Janis Joplin's 1963 mug shots. The selection is not particularly interesting or representative. Two photos of Jefferson Airplane : one a publicity shot for the Berkeley Folk Fest (with Signe), and one murky shot of a performance crammed into a corner of the Matrix (with Grace). There are also two appendices: one a brief review of the music produced by the major players, the other a dramatis personae of the main personalities.
The book is still available in the bookstores; pick it up, I'll think you'll like it.