In praise of the Flamin' Groovies

To steal a phrase from Kundera, I've always been a classical kind of listener, searching for an ideal (which is why "Do I really need this?" and "What parts of XYZ's discography can I do without?" are always part of my crate digging thought process), rather than an epic one, wanting to experience everything. This is especially true now that the vinyl resurgence has driven the price of many things above my $20 a record ceiling (which I've violated on occasion in the past). 

When I recently decided to replace the reissue LP of the Flamin' Groovies' Teenage Head that I foolishly let go a few years ago, I discovered that the least expensive vinyl copy on Discogs was $25. Which is why I opted for the '99 CD version (while "perfect sound forever" proved to be hype, CDs are once again the format I'm most likely to buy, because I'm a cheap bastard) -- which comes with the bonus of seven live-in-studio covers that are as hot as, I dunno, A Session with the Remains or something.

For my two cents, as a "classical" listener, Teenage Head is the one Flamin' Groovies rec you really need. The Sneakers EP and Supersnazz album both sound a little jokey, and reveal the underlying influence of the Lovin' Spoonful that affected a lot of Bay Area bands (the Dead among 'em). Flamingo, produced by Richard Robinson, as Teenage Head would be (he also did honors on the underappreciated first Lou Reed solo LP, as well as such critics' fave esoterica as Hackamore Brick), was harder edged -- they'd encountered the raging Detroit ramalama of the MC5, Stooges, and Alice Cooper out on the road -- but still thin-sounding and speedy in the manner of the Five's Back in the USA. And as much as people whose opinions I respect love the Groovies' later, Beatles/Byrds influenced, Chris Wilson-fronted incarnation, Shake Some Action is where I got off the bus.

As a teenage record store clerk, I took much shit from the older guys at the store where I worked for diggin' the Groovies, Stooges, Alice, MC5, and Nuggets. Fuck 'em. Historical validation wears the white Stetson. The aesthetic championed by Lester Bangs and Creem won out over the one advocated by Jon Landau and Rolling Stone. (Part of the problem, to my mind, with the first generation of rockcrits was that too many of them were English majors, more accustomed to explicating verse than describing sound.) But back in '71, some of us (including whoever it was that wrote the Rolling Stone review) compared Teenage Head favorably with the Stones' Sticky Fingers (which future Springsteen Svengali Landau lambasted for not sounding like they did in '64-'66). 

It wasn't a totally fair assessment, but at a time where it seemed like every band you heard was aping the '69 Stones, Teenage Head was as close of a Beggar's Banquet simulacrum as anybody had attempted. "City Lights" was a ringer for "No Expectations -- with pianist Jim Dickinson as the secret ingredient -- while "Yesterday's Numbers" was sort of a "Stray Cat Blues" with the psychedelic jam-out from the end of "Street Fighting Man" appended. There were other similarities, too. To these not-yet-feedback-scorched ears, the shattered longing of "Whiskey Woman" hit the same way as Velvet Underground "Oh Sweet Nuthin'," while the Groovies' blues and rockabilly homages were as silly-but-spot-on as the Move's country and rockabilly homages on Message from the Country. And I'd be remiss if I neglected to mention the title track's galloping menace, or opener "High Flyin' Baby"'s slide-driven raunch.

My favorite Teenage Head song, though, is their crunchy (in the non-granola sense) cover of Randy Newman's "Have You Seen My Baby," to which they apply the Stones' patented (although stolen from Chuck Berry) chug. I cherish the memory of playing this song with Nick Girgenti (RIP) in an aborted end-of-century band project from after we reached the level of desperation where we were going to attempt to sing. He had some originals he'd originally written to be sung by Frank Logan (also RIP) in another aborted band project, while I had this, the Velvets' "Head Held High," and I forget what. You didn't miss anything.

I got to interview original Groovies frontman Roy Loney for the I-94 Bar back in Y2K, and he sent me, among other valued artifacts, a promo shot of the band inscribed to me by himself, guitarist Cyril Jordan, and bassist George Alexander, the two guys with the most time in the lineup (George till 2018, Cyril to this very day). I never spoke to Cyril, but I got to see him during SXSW 2009, playing at Antone's Records with a band called Magic Christian that also included ex-Blondie drummer Clem Burke. I was there to see the Nervebreakers with my friend Tom Finn (RIP), who was shooting video, and must have walked in front of Cyril a dozen times without recognizing him. (Had I known he was there, I'd have been looking for a guy with a receding hairline, which he had in 1971, not someone with bangs like he has now.) It was only when I saw him strap on the Perspex Dan Armstrong from the Teenage Head cover that I realized my good fortune.

As Roy said at the end of "Yesterday's Numbers," "All's well that ends well."