SMiLE (you must know this already, if you read AM) is the
greatest unreleased LP of all time. Brian Wilson's drug-addled effort was
simply not meant to be. In many respects the same has to be applied to Moby
Grape. By far the best of efforts of psychedelic Frisco (with the exception
of Surrealistic Pillow – and I’ll entertain all arguments to the contrary), for
most it's as if Moby Grape was never released. Armed with three virtuoso
guitarists, Moby Grape had the greatest commercial potential of any San
Francisco band, the Dead and the Airplane included. They quickly blew it all
thanks to internal tensions, the acid-intensified psychological collapse of
guitarist Skip Spence and Columbia's hysterical hype, which included releasing
five simultaneous singles from the debut. Moby Grape was that good - a pop-smart whirl of
blazing white R&B, country twang and psychedelic balladry, mostly cut live
in the studio in three weeks for $11,000. They should have indeed been San
Fran’s Beatles, or at worst, their Byrds.
David Fricke of Rolling Stone said of the debut, "It's
one of the few rock 'n' roll albums of any era that you can say, 'That is a
perfect debut album.' The songwriting on it is memorable — you take those songs
with you wherever you go. The triple-guitar orchestration... it's not just
power chords. Everyone is playing melodies and counter-melodies and rhythms.
Very funky, also very country, very punk, very surf. And they were all
singers."
San Francisco in 1967 must have been quite the place.
Granted the whole scene has been sugar-coated into a nostalgic Neverland, but
for one brief, shining moment, Frisco (the timely vernacular) captured rock 'n' roll lightning in a bottle. We all know the usual suspects, The Grateful Dead,
Quicksilver, Big Brother and Janis, Jefferson Airplane, but of them all, Moby
Grape could have been the best. So why was no one paying attention? Maybe it
was merely an oversight based on a stellar Freshman Class of ’67 that
included The Doors, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, and the Velvet Underground, though The
Grape's debut is a record chock full of white blues, acid rock and a tiny
touch of country. I love when an
album sounds like the time and place it was made. The cheap drum sound, the
psych guitar work, all wrapped up with strong songwriting and five lads who
knew how to jam.
Indeed, Moby Grape was a rarety – the perfect debut.
Issued in June, 1967, two weeks after Sgt.
Pepper, Moby Grape was an effervescent synthesis of choirboy folk-rock,
clattering garage-rock propulsion and R&B moxie, charged with a love
of rock's early roots and a vigorous refusal to be bound by the conventions of
genre. Sublime in concept, immaculate in execution, the album was imbued with a
contagious, celebratory optimism that was the Spirit of '67.
The band had been together less than six months, yet
their songwriting partnerships, musicianship and pure energy rival bands that
had been together far longer. This is straight ahead rock 'n' roll with psych overtones, kept short, sweet and to the point. From the opening notes of
"Hey Grandma" to the closing notes of "Indifference", there
isn't a bad moment to be found. Also worth mentioning is the great
mix of rockers ("Hey Grandma", "Fall on You",
"Omaha", "Changes"), laid back jams ("Mr. Blues",
"Come in the Morning", "Lazy me", "Indifference")
and ballads ("8:05", "Naked, If I Want To", "Ain't No
Use", "Sitting by the Window") that really give one a sense of the band's versatility. Some have called Moby Grape "The Byrds with the
blues", and many of these songs would definitely support the contention.
If you can listen to this album all the way through and not have a satisfied
grin on your face at the end, make sure you're still breathing.
Yet, against all odds, Moby Grape went on
to become the most notorious failure in rock 'n' roll, an object lesson in how
not to succeed in [music] business. Everything that could go wrong, did:
legal nightmares, police busts, stolen equipment, disastrous road and recording
experiences, even drug-induced madness.
In 1966, after Skip Spence left Jefferson
Airplane, Moby Grape was formed with Spence on guitar, drummer Don
Stevenson, bassist Bob Mosley,
and additional guitarists Peter Lewis and Jerry Miller.
The band started by touring around the San Fran club scene before a bidding war between labels. The band finally settled on Columbia
Records (according to Lewis, this was because Columbia was the label of The
Byrds, a band that Moby Grape admired). At the time, it was supposedly the
biggest contract Columbia had given to anyone. Columbia was no fledgling
company (as was Warner’s when it came to rock), and so their odd enthusiasm,
coupled with misfortune and foolish thinking spelled disaster for a band named
after a kid's joke.
Columbia marketing put together a ridiculous album launch
party that included "Moby Grape" wine (but failed to provide
corkscrews). There were also purple flowers strewn everywhere, which had the
same effect as banana peels on the floor. To top it off, the night ended with
the band getting into hot water for partying with underage girls.
The next tumble came when Columbia decided to release
five singles at once (worked for The Beatles). This left radio programmers
confused as to what they should play, and many of them opted for nothing. The
absence of radio play hit sales, and the album stalled at #24 on the Billboard
Pop Albums chart and "Omaha", the only single that charted, stalled
at a paltry #88.
