Hear about the guitarist who played in tune? Neither did I.

The first two people to be shown in bed together on prime time television were Fred and Wilma Flintstone.

Things You Would Never Know Without The Movies:

When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other.

If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your headlights work?

If a young man at the age of twenty-three can write a symphony like that, in five years he will be ready to commit murder.”

– Walter Damrosch on Aaron Copland

A drunk was in front of a judge. The judge says, ‘You’ve been brought here for drinking. ‘

The drunk says ‘Okay, let’s get started.’

Mr. Burns: “How were his test scores?”

College Rep: “Let’s just say this:  he spelled ‘Yale’ with a six.”

A Peter Albin joke:

We used to take acid, now we take antacid.

I want to be cremated, and I want my agent to have ten, er, fifteen per cent of my ashes. Exclusively. It’s in the contract. (Watch him save this.)

Sarah Palin: Juneau if she’s going to run?  Alaska.

Actual courtroom conversation:

Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?

A: Oral.

Q: What is your date of birth?

A: July 15th.

Q: What year?

A: Every year.

Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a

pulse?

A: No.

Q: Did you check for blood pressure?

A: No.

Q: Did you check for breathing?

A: No.

Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you

began the autopsy?

A: No.

Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?

A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.

Q: But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?

A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and

practicing law somewhere.

How many buddhists does it take to change a light bulb?

One to change it, and one not to change it.

Did you hear about the man with the Catholic father and the Jewish mother?

When he went to confession he brought along his lawyer.

Police in Los Angeles had good luck with a robbery suspect who just couldn’t

control himself during a lineup. When detectives asked each man in the lineup

to repeat the words, “Give me all your money or I’ll shoot,” the man shouted,

“That’s not what I  said!”

“Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes.” – Jim Carrey

What happened when the flasher decided to retire?

He decided to stick it out for one more year.

A Goy Joke:

“You own your own business, don’t you? How’s it doing?”

The goy says, “Just great! Thanks for asking!”

Major Reno rode up to Colonel Custer on the eve of the Little Big Horn massacre and said, “Colonel, there’s evidence of a large number of Indians over the ridge.  I don’t like the sound of those drums.”

From over the ridge came a loud cry, “We just hired a better drummer.”

Homer Simpson, whom I actually met in Austria, made this toast:

To alcohol The cause of – and solution to – all of life’s problems!

A Jewish woman hired a private detective to watch her husband.

She wanted to know what his mistress saw in him.

Jean-Paul Sartre is sitting at a French cafe, revising his draft of Being and Nothingness. He says to the waitress, “I’d like a cup of coffee, please, with no cream.” The waitress replies, “I’m sorry, monsieur, but we’re out of cream.  How about with no milk?”

Oedipus, schmoedipus, as long as he loves his mother.

Subtitle in a Kung Fu film:

Greetings, large black person. Let us not forget to form a team up together

and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feats on some

giant lizard person.

Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it.

What’s the latest crime wave in New York City?

Drive-by trombone solos.

Anything War can do, Peace can do better.

The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake

that, you’ve got it made.

-Groucho Marx

Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.

Voltaire

Don’t imagine you can change a man. Unless he’s in diapers.

Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.

(This goes for so many other things in life as well.)

A drummer, tired of being ridiculed by his peers, decides to learn how to play some “real” musical instruments. He goes to a music store, walks in, approaches the store clerk, and says “I’ll take that red trumpet over there and that accordian.”

The store clerk looks at him a bit funny, and replies “OK, you can have the fire extinguisher but the radiator’s got to stay”.

How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?

Did you hear about the musician who won the lottery?

He played gigs until the money ran out.

Love may be blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.

War is expensive, Peace is priceless.

One evening, watching her neighborhood from her front  porch, a wife pointed out one young couple on their street to her husband. “Do you see that couple? They are so devoted. He kisses her every time they meet. Why don’t you do that?”

“I would love to,” replied the husband, “but I don’t know her well enough.”

I was dating this woman for a while and the first time she saw me naked, she said, “Is everything a joke with you?”

Q. What do bullet proof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, laser

printers and White-Out all have in common?

A. All invented by women. The last one was invented by Mike Nesmith’s mother.

If all economists were laid end to end they would not reach a conclusion.

– George Bernard Shaw

Sam Andrew

Big Brother and the Holding Company

__________________________________________________________

It’s A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood.

14 November 2010

Steve Brown took this lovely photograph of Janis.

I could have met Stela Mandel at this engagement, but, no….

The very lively Cathy Richardson.

Marin: Lizards in the summer, Salamanders when it gets cooler.

Elise au naturel.

Janis at her house in Larkspur. She was once the pool champion of Avenue D.

If Tom Cruise lived in East Texas, he might look like this.

Basic human decency, rock and roll version.

Two and a half years old.

Elise when she was modeling. Sarasota, Florida. 1980s.

Mary Bridget Davies. Very intelligent, smart as can be. Funny. Strong.

Kate Russo and Peter Albin in Koh Samui, Thailand.

My sister Lillian and my father.

See? I told you she knew how to play flügelhorn.

Janis had an angular, jabbing kind of writing style. Sharp as she was.

Moondog, serious classical composer, author of All Is Loneliness.

Tom Finch and Tara Coyote. Glamorous and amorous.

Nick Gravenites, a very happy unidentified woman, and John Cipollina.

On the cover of the Rolling Stone, Italian style. Good photograph.

We learned Ball and Chain from this woman.

Elise took this dawn photograph of the Wörthersee in southern Austria.

Tim Braun and Woo Salazar in the Kansas City, Missouri, Love, Janis.

278 West 11th Street, NYC. I lived in the West Village for almost ten years.

McNear’s Beach, I think. Janis, Peter, Dave, Sam. Total madhouse.

One of the many appropriations of Robert Crumb’s great idea.

We played with Steve at The Shoreline Amphitheatre a couple of years ago.

Karen Lyberger, glassical scholar, Hawaii.

Merl Saunders, Barry Melton, Norton Buffalo, shot by Don Aters.

The Hummingbird that Janis first played Bobby McGee on. Beautiful guitar.

I remember these vehicles.

Joan, Karen, Elise, Hawaii.

This was quite a gig.

Big Brother in Kyoto. Tom Finch, Duffy Bishop. 1996?

Just another night backstage.

Shanghai Elise.

In this manicured England, we were at the Bein Inn. Not like a Be In.

The top of San Francisco. Fisherman’s Wharf. Aquatic Park. The Marina.

Aspects of Elise. 1980s.

Max Clarke, peripheralist, photographer extraordinaire.

Carla, Elise’s mother, and Edd came to Scotland when we played there.

Almost two.

Dave Getz, Hawaii.

Regensburg, Germany 2003.

Kathi McDonald and Bob Mosely.

The Pik Ass Playroom.

White Plains, New York.

With my brother Dan in Austin. 1980s.

I wonder how many times I’ve played Piece of My Heart?

Elise is singing.

Getting ready to go to Okinawa the first time.

Do I look proud to be with these people? Sophia Ramos and Ben Nieves.

Chad Quist, Lisa Mills, Todd Vinciguerra. This was a good band.

With Kathi McDonald. Seattle.

Sam Andrew

Big Brother and the Holding Company

__________________________________________________________

Two benefits

2 October 2010

Two benefits this day, one in San Rafael for the school system, the other in Petaluma, California, for the “wrongly denied” quadriplegics and paraplegics and their families. We were very proud to have played for both eminently worthy causes.

We played a set in San Rafael at 6:00 in the evening, early so we could get up to Petaluma and play there later. Tommy Castro was our host for the evening at Andy’s Market out by the Loch Lomond yacht harbor.

Stefanie Keys did the singing for this one.

Dave Getz did the drumming.

Callie Watts who sang so well with Frobeck the band who followed us in San Rafael. Very good band, reminded me a bit of Tower of Power, excellent players, good arrangements, strong vocals.

The people you meet backstage at these affairs. My, my.

Peter Albin at an earlier benefit. I’m so glad we are doing a lot of these. That’s Bonnie Hofkin in the background. I am a groupie for medical illustrators, Bonnie, Stela Mandela, Phoebe Glockner. I love them all.

This is Shannon who wants to do Love, Janis. Tom Finch and I had a lot of fun driving around, and he really played well on both of these gigs.

Save water, shower with a friend. Cathy Richardson working on Combination of the Two. Cathy needed a shower. She was hot, hot, hot in Petaluma. On fire.

Lots of Toms and Tommys. Tommy Smothers, Tom Constanten and Tom Finch.

A giantess who reminds me of Jennifer Garner, lovely. Darby Gould, singer with the Starship. Cathy Richardson looking all glamorous. She was really very cute this night.

Dario Da Rold. He is trying to teach me how to look Italian.

We played in Millerton, New York, last week. This is the green room. This magnificent edifice was built in 1888.

A Pit Bull and a Shih Tzu.

Tara Degl’Innocenti, who is also trying to teach me how to look Italian.

Look closely at this one.

Elise Piliwale in the middle of Maui. The road is named after her family who lived here since long before the Kamehamehas. Piliwale is the name of an ancient noble family of Hawaiians who spawned very beautiful women.

I stole this photo from Theresa Izzo, who stole it from someone, who stole it from someone, and so on and so on.

Thank you to Tommy Castro who does such good work for the San Rafael school system. Go, Tommy.

Sam Andrew

Big Brother and the Holding Company

__________________________________________________________

Dunsmuir and Leggett, California

12 September 2010

Dunsmuir and Leggett, California

This is a photograph by Donna Patterson of Mount Shasta. She has her top blown off (the mount, not Donna) because she is one of the Sisters in the volcano belt. Some of her sisters are Mount Hood, Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens. I was on the road with Pearl Heart (don’t ask) somewhere near Vancouver, Washington, standing in my motel room, shaving with the door open, when I heard a loud boom. That was Mount Shasta’s sister, Mount Saint Helens blowing her top.

So, not to be theatrical or anything, but here we are in Dunsmuir practicing for the show, which will be on a baseball field, a baseball field that has felt the mighty step of Babe Ruth and heard the preppie cadences of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who said, “This Dunsmuir water is the finest that I have ever tasted.”

I’m not sure that Nat Cole was ever here in Dunsmuir, but Elise and I turned on the television and there he was in a film called Cat Ballou. Completely ridiculous. Mr. Cole, one of the greatest jazz pianists, and you know how he sings, was standing there in overalls with a banjo and singing country songs. So postmodern. Jane Fonda, Lee Marvin. Really out there.

We’re working on Ball & Chain here. Almost got it.

Me giving Tom Finch some pointers on how to play his solos.

Peter telling us what our Dachshund will do to us IN THE NIGHT.

The Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman. Stefanie Keys, ladies and gentlemen.

A force of nature. Encouraging, positive, alive, vibrant, OK a little goofy, and a joy to be with.

Some of the lovely Dunsmuirians. Ryan Marchand is the good looking one.

Kat Patterson doing an unforgettable rendition of He Who Smelt It, Dealt It. Please note extremely correct toe articulation.

We left Dunsmuir, which is very far north in California, drove down to the Colusa Clearlake exit, and took Highway 20 west to join Highway 101 north and drove to Leggett in Mendocino County. This was a marathon drive and Elise did it with skill, charm and aplomb. The Peg House has a sense of humor and so, ha, ha, they decided to put this mock up police car in front of their place. That’s to get everyone to slow down, see?, so that they might come in and spend some money. Ha, ha.

Tom Finch was truly playing some beautiful guitar on this trip, and Stefanie made me very proud. She is getting better every gig. She’s smart, she works, she’s happy…what a woman!

With Amélie and Chris. I’m trying to get Amélie to give up smoking, so this is a subliminal message.

Arianna Antinori, my irrepressible friend who is Roman but now lives in Vicenza, Italy, which is not that far from Belluno, the home of my dear friend, Dario Da Rold. Look how beautiful Arianna is. She will sing some songs with us when we play in Vicenza.

Shiho-san (Superfly) came and sang with us at Woodstock (Bethel, NY) and I just loved her. This is an interview/article with her in Japan Times.

Elise and I had such a good time on this trip. Lots of laughs, fun to see new things. I love this woman.

Sam Andrew

Big Brother and the Holding Company

5 September 2010 – À la Recherche du Temps Perdu

À la Recherche du Temps Perdu



I painted Samantha Gorton and her sister Sarah, and already, of course, they have changed so much. Samantha did a drawing of me that I keep in my paintbox. Very good.

The last time we played on Hawaii. Elise’s ancestors were nobility there. They are always mentioned in early chronicles of the Islands.

December 1940. Headlines from the Brockton (Massachusetts) Enterprise, written on the wall, much as they are in China today. An earthquake? In Massachusetts? Italians should oust Mussolini? Prescient.

A film noir image, n’est-ce pas? Nothing like holding forth about yourself in a lecture hall. I can always see every skeptic in the audience saying, “Oh, please, give me a break.” It’s like Tom Brokaw saying “The Greatest Generation.” We all have to think that where we are is special, when, really, where everyone, is, shall be, was, has been is special, now and forever. That’s the real secret. And, by the way, all sentient beings are included in this also, not just human beings. Life is precious. La de Da.

Case in point. Apologies to my brother Dan, a Buddhist in Nashville, but here is Nam Hyo Ren Gei Kyo written out in very stylized Japanese kanji. This almost looks as if a Westerner had written it. Anyway, a good message.

Lee, Bill, Sam, early 60s. I talk to two Italians every day who teach me a lot about their language and culture. One of them is Frank Bertolli, who is a Big Game Hunter, as is my brother Lee. Frank has a very large room on his property, devoted to his trophies from every land. Dario, our friend, says that when Frank dies, he should be stuffed and mounted in this very room in the act of shooting these other stuffed mounts. I can’t wait to introduce Lee, my brother, to Frank, who is a very good and a very rich man. They will get along so well. Meanwhile, Dario and I will cower in the corner, saying, “Aren’t they so masterful and so powerful over their environment.” Or, we may be just enjoying some of the intricacies of Italian language and how it relates to English, one never knows, do one? I’m the tallest here in this photo, and now I’m the shortest of these brothers. Do you suppose that means anything? Have I taken a wrong turn into plant eating, when I could be chowing down on quadrupeds? Maybe it’s just age, yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket. This is a singing group actually. The Three Androids with their latest hit Oh, Baby, Won’t You Horse Around With Me?

What? You mean Oh, Baby, Won’t You Horse Around With Me? is not on this setlist. Oh, come on.

This is what the music for a dance in Oklahoma looked like in 1939. And this is what it was for so much of human history. My grandfather and uncle played on their porch around this same time, near Devine, Texas, and this is what it looked like to me, and the music was so beautiful, real, magical. I’ll never forget it.

This was such an interesting place to play. Halle. Formerly East Germany. When we checked into hotels here, I would look around the stale, pale olive rooms and try to imagine lives that had transpired there, not so long before. All of that misdirection, waste, idealism, hope, truly altruistic notions that had taken place in the Communist Era, all of that, so lost, misinterpreted, all those lives, lived in pursuit of that Ideal. I could just feel all the longing when I lodged in such a room. Overwhelming. Sad. I wanted to pull them all into now.

Bye, Bye, Baby.

RARE photograph with my mother. Handsome dad. South China Sea. Lillian, Dad, Dan, Bill, Mother, Lee. I learned to swim in this Sea about twelve years before this.

Glenn Herskovitz thinks that I play a “psychedelic” solo on this. OK. If that works for marketing, so be it. Sounds like a blues solo to me, but, eh?

Sister Lillian and my father, both beautiful, yes?

Jane Fonda, always interesting, courageous. I had a missing with Jane once. Always to be regretted. She is a national treasure.

I drew this hand in St. Petersburg, Florida, waiting for Wendy Rich to come and write songs with me.

Big Brother and the Holding Company are going to Dunsmuir and Legget, California, this week. Stefanie Keys and Tom Finch are coming with us.

Sam Andrew
Big Brother and the Holding Company

Sunday 29 August 2010 – Paleography

Paleography

Hey, we are going to play in Dunsmuir, California, on a date easy to
remember, 11 September 2010 and we would are looking forward to
seeing old and new friends there.

If Ellen de Generes had ever lived in East Texas, she might look like this.

Sarah is going to have a baby in September, and that is going to be one
beautiful, intelligent girl. Sarah and Don Graham, mommy and daddy.

The reason I am sitting here now. My father was transferred by the
United States Air Force from Okinawa to San Francisco. I still go out to
Hamilton AFB occasionally to walk the flight line and remember.

At The San Francisco Theological Seminary which is in San Anselmo,
oddly enough, with Big Brother and the Holding Company. I’m going to
paint this image someday, only in an extreme Expressionist style, which
it clearly deserves.

Burg Herzberg, Germany, getting down with Lisa Mills. 2001

Chet Helms sitting in L’Atelier Doré, his gallery on Pine Street, San
Francisco. Below is Darby Slick. I remember when we all saw Hard Day’s
Night together at the Surf Theatre, an art house out in the Sunset District,
San Francisco, maybe 1965.. All of us in the cinema together, Charlatans,
Airplane, Big Brother, all taking it in, what The Beatles were about, what
songwriting was about, how beautiful the tunes were, what rock and roll
celebrity was about, how to laugh at the whole thing. We were all there
studying, learning, becoming who we were. Thank you, John, Paul,
George, Ringo, Richard Lester. What a good film you made.

We are going to Europe again this October 2010.

Emily Lazare’s sculpture class, College of Marin, Kentfield, California,
maybe 2005. I learned so much with Emily, and I worked with all of these
wonderful people.

I met Elise in Sarasota, Florida, 1994, and she belonged to a coterie of
artists, most of whom attended Ringling Art School, a very good
institution. Each person was more beautiful and more talented than the
next. Sandy, Danielle, Julie, Elise and Kathy.

One of the odder Big Brothers. Dave, Sam, Peter, OK, but Lisa Battle,
very good singer, and Les Dudek, super guitar player, Southern mode,
Allman Brothers, lived with Cher, big star, from Ocala, Florida, that
Southern thing, you know? This is a rare Big Brother photo.

Kathy McDonald, me, Nick Gravenites at The Greek Theatre in Berkeley,
California, maybe 1978.

Elise in Death Valley. This was some kind of sacred, special moment for
us. I don’t know why, but there it was. We still have some of these stones
at our house to prove that what happened to us there really happened to
us there.

Two of my favorite people, Rob Fordyce and Danny Uzilevsky. David La
Rocco I met in Pahoa, Hawaii, where we did some playing.

Well, here comes Fall.

Sam Andrew
Big Brother and the Holding Company

Interview With Sam Andrew, Part 1

I was able to catch up with Sam Andrew at his home in San Rafael, California. It was a hot July day when we sat down and talked. And talked we did. I should have called this a conversation with Sam. Yes I had done all my homework. I had read all the books, interviews, articles that I could find on Big Brother and the Holding Company. Sam had even photo copied some he had saved.

Some of my Internet connections even e-mailed me with questions to ask Sam. Nothing I had done prepared me for the interview, which follows. The reason is that once Sam and I started to talk, it was as though two old friends had gotten together. We needed to catch up with what has been happening. Sam is a gracious host and man with a great memory. I am glad that we covered as much ground as we did.

We went beyond Sam’s Big Brother days with Janis, on into his solo years, only to return to Big Brother that we know them today. Make no mistake about the fact that Big Brother is back. With on going concert tours and a new CD, which just came out, titled “Do What You Love”, Sam is more active then ever.

I’d like to thank Sam Andrew, Chuck Flood, Ed Chester, Todd Bolton and the man who transcribed this interview Bill Delaney.

John Barthel

J. I was just wondering, as a first question, if we could go way back to when you were a teenager. I don’t know if you went to high school but when you were a teenager in your formative years, what kind of music did you enjoy?

S. Well I went to high school on Okinawa. It is now a part of Japan. It is one of the prefects of Japan but then it was a part of America. It is… was like a territory. We got it from World War II. My father was stationed there twice. I went to kindergarten there and I graduated from high school there and that’s were I had my first rock and roll band called the Cool Notes. In that band I was lucky enough to have two horn players who had come down from Tokyo with their fathers. One was fourteen and the other was sixteen. The fourteen-year-old was a prodigy. He was something approaching a musical genius. Now he plays in the studios in London. He does like alto sax work for everybody; you know David Bowie and everybody who comes through. They were big influences on me, they listened to a lot of classical music and that kind of thing. I had been listening to a lot of black music. Little Richard was a big, big influence on me and Chuck Berry and Bo Diddely. It was kind of guitar oriented, although Richard plays the piano. I was really into that because I had been living in the South for most of my childhood and had just come from, in fact, San Antonio, Texas. Where all of the Mexicans and low class whites, like I was, would listen to southern black blues music. There were a lot of big radio stations that came out of Nashville. Which you must know about. Joe Rio.

J. Right

S. So I was really in that black thing and when these horn players came down they exposed me to a whole…. Like to Benny Goodman all of the big band tradition because they were horn players. We wrote a lot of songs, which at that time was very unusual. This is the late fifties. This is like 1957. We had a band and we played at teen clubs and we made a lot of money. We had a weekly television program on Okinawa. So those would be the two things. It would be like southern black blues, a real strong thing, and then these horn players, coming from Chicago and exposing me to all that.

J. So you were playing to Military teenagers and young adults?

S. Yeah, to offspring of military personnel and military personnel themselves. We would have that weekly show that was like American Bandstand only it was on Okinawa. On that island everybody was military so all of the grown up jobs couldn’t be done by grownups because they were all in the service. So all of those jobs fell on us including our band doing that weekly television program. I had friends who were like disc jockeys on the radio and editorial cartoonists and that kind of thing. It was a fun spot to be at sixteen.

J. So how did you get off Okinawa?

S. My father got transferred back here. We’re in San Rafael California. He was transferred to Hamilton Air Force Base, which is just a little north of here. That is why I am sitting here today because he came here and I went to the University of San Francisco, which was right on the edge of the Haight. So that is why I was here really, because he transferred off the island.

J. You were about the right age to break away from your folks?

S. Yeah! That was my first year of college when I came back. So yeah.

J. You mentioned you were playing with the Cool Notes? S. Yeah.

J. Did you start off playing the guitar?

S. I started off playing guitar. I played piano and saxophone and wrote music but mainly I am guitar player and I played guitar in that band. In those days, that was the late fifties, you may remember this John. You could get away with playing two sets of chords. One set was the blues chords. You could play a lot of songs, mostly anything fast could be played with that set of chords, and that is three chords. Then there was another four set of chords and that was: C, A minor,
F and G7 and those chords you use for a ballad. Any slow ballad like: “You Send Me.” or “Maybe” any of the Doo Woop tunes. Those two sets of chord changes you could play a lot. See I learned how to play in about three months then I was in a band, you know, playing all the time.

J. Pretty much self-taught?

S. Yeah, entirely I have never had a guitar lesson. I have given a lot of guitar lessons, but I have never had one and I wish I would have. Usually when people say things like that you think they are taking pride in being this untutored thing but if I would have had guitar lessons I would be way better. I would encourage anyone thinking of learning guitar to look for Omaha Guitar Lessons so they can learn the basics and build from there. I wish I would have started out. I mean, the first violinist of the Cleveland Symphony still takes lessons probably once a week from somewhere. They know…classical musicians know you should be educated.

J. I was going to ask what are your earliest recollections of writing songs, but you pretty much have said that.

S. Well… Yeah! Except that I wrote them from when I was six years old. I would play a broom and all kids do this. My daughter did it. Any young child will make up songs at the drop of a hat with a melody and everything. All the words come out and it makes sense. But they forget that kind of. You have to keep doing that or you forget it. Just like drawing. All children are fascinated by drawing, you know. They all draw. And they draw the most incredible things and they forget how to do it because they don’t keep doing it. So the first tune that I wrote was called “Sweet and Innocent” and it was to a girlfriend I had at the time on Okinawa. It had those chords: C, A minor, F and G7 and it was like a slow romantic thing. That was it. We wrote a lot of tunes in that band, unusual for that time.

J. When you first started going to college and hanging out next to Haight. What was the Haight like? Everybody hears about Haight Ashberry and the early … what?. You’re talking sixty-four maybe?

S. No, I am talking sixty now.

J. Sixty OK. What did you find there? S. In 1960 I lived at 251 Ashbury. It was just on the other side of the park, but it was still. I was living on Ashbury in 1960. It was real quiet. It was a student neighborhood. It was kind of, perhaps, a blue-collar neighborhood. Just real quiet… one of the many neighborhoods
of San Francisco. There was nothing special about it. I think probably…it actually became something because rents were low and also University of San Francisco was there. Lone Mountain, which was a girls school was there and then San Francisco State was kind of,…on the other side of it. So maybe a lot of students were in the neighborhood, but mainly it was just low rents. J. Yeah, I read that it was low income or low rent like you said.

S. Yeah, It wasn’t poor and it wasn’t even shabby or anything. It was just kind of a respectable quiet neighborhood. It was nice. Still is. Still great. I really love the Haight.

J. So how did you get plugged into the music scene in San Francisco?

S. Well! In school I led the pep band which is pretty ridiculous because there is no music at USF. It is a Jesuit men’s school.. That was to a keep a hand in , on that kind of music with horns and that. I led that band. That was the age of folk music… you know? The Kingston Trio had popularized folk music with the Weavers. Everybody was doing it… Odetta. Joan Baez. It was a big deal. Pete Seger, Bob Dylan, he was still very much folk. He hadn’t started really writing yet. We were doing that. We would gather in student apartments and play the stuff all night, then go out and sleep off the red wine in Golden Gate Park. It was a really nice existence. We would have a lot of fun playing and singing all night and you know we just lived these songs. It was really fun. It was in some ways a more intense musical experience than it is today. It went on…that folk thing… went on until 1963…64 or something. Then I went to Paris where I lived a couple of years and played there a little bit and came back just in time for that explosion that happened at that time.

J. What took you to Paris?

S. My father was over there. He was a little outside of Paris, but my brother went over there and lived right in Paris. We went to the Sourbonne and spoke French to each other. Which is unusual for a couple of Americans and we had that great Parisian….you know, I was like 18 or 19. It is paradise to be in Paris when you are 18 or 19. You know? Had a lot of good times. Visited all the museums of course. I had a lot of friends who were French. Who were painters and that kind of thing. I really enjoyed… I felt very bohemian and with it. I came back and I don’t know why. I thought I was going to stay in Paris forever. I had become really frenchified. I had the identity card and the whole thing. I just thought I was going to stay. I don’t know why I came back but I did. Just in time for this.

J. That brings us to probably when you started hanging out, I forget the address….1090?

S. 1090 Page. Yeah! That was shortly after that….that I came back. Yeah! Maybe within a year. I was walking down the street, on a day very much like today. Which is very sunny and blue and I heard some guitar playing coming out of a window of this Victorian. It was really good. It was really, you know, this really
loose natural blues style. I went up there and it was Peter Albin. I had to climb up there… all those stairs… all the way. There were no doors that were locked in those days to any of those houses. You know? I went all the way up until I found him. I just thought he was so great and I talked to him for a while and he was….he wanted to write children’s songs. He had written a couple. Which we later did in Big Brother by the way, like Caterpillar. He wanted to write those and travel all across the nation and sing those to children and that kind of thing. He was taking care of people at Camp Meeker. I said, “We ought to form a band. I play”. He was kind of…Naa! At first. I had to work on him…a couple of months. I would go over there all the time. We would play down in the basement.
Slowly a band started to coalesce around that. That is where the Blue Yard Hill thing started. That was one of it’s early names, it was called the Blue Yard Hill.

S. It wasn’t my idea.

J. I had read that you had quite a group of people coming in and out. Jamming or playing there.

S. Yeah!

J. I also read that Chet Helms somehow got involved in that mix.

S. He got involved. He visited all of those Victorians in town. Everybody was kind of associated with one of those houses. Like there was some on Pine Street, where Bill Hamm and the first light show that ever was in the world… was. James Gurley was over there at one of those houses on Pine Street. The Family Dog started up. But Chet visited all of these. He was like a bee going around gathering this pollen, you know, and spreading the word… kind of. Yes, 1090 Page was one of those places he visited. He had the idea of charging admission , for when we would jam down there. We had all kinds of people. We had black people from the neighborhood. These really slick guys with the hat and the matching suit. All the way down to what would be called the hippie now and wasn’t called that then and folkies. It was a real mix of people. It wasn’t one kind of person. They would come….seems like it was every Wednesday night, but I can’t be sure of that, but Chet would charge money. Peter and I were kind of the nucleus of the stage band. Gary Duncan came by with John Cippolina and we just thought they were so cool. They already looked…. You know John Cippolina had that rock and roll star thing down from day one. He just looked the part. They came over so we were kind of like, “Ohhhhhh! those guys are serious”. We played Suzy Q with them. I remember that…real early.

J. Were you plugged in at that time when you were jamming?

S. Uh, yeah, we were plugged in, yeah. I don’t think Peter and I ever played acoustic. I think from day one we plugged in when we were down in that basement. I think so. I mean I would bring my acoustic over and play with other people in that house. I came over and played classical music with a guy who was down on the first floor. He played recorder and we did a lot of Bach and eighteenth-century music. I played jazz with some of the people on the upper floor, but Peter and I were electric from day one. He didn’t play bass for a long time. He played guitar.

J. And you had drums?

S. Yeah, eventually we got drums after thinking about the logistics like the best drum kit wrap to put on top. In fact, we got our first drummer there too, Chuck Jones. That was quite a scene down there, but quieter than you would think.

J. How long did that go on? In the basement?

S. That is a good question. Maybe like… about a year , or something,. Because James came to that basement, you know, the guitar player we finally got… came. Chet brought him down to that basement where we were. That is where we had the first full blown Big Brother rehearsal… I guess.

J. I had read that James had taught himself the guitar. He was really into John Coltrane. If you take that and your interest in black music, what kind of music did you play? Did you cover other peoples songs or do originals?

S. Yeah, we did covers. We did a couple of Little Richard covers that I sang. Peter sang Summertime which is ridiculous to think of him singing it. We had that song when Janis came to the band. She didn’t say, “I want to do Summertime”. We were already doing Summertime. It was probably because it was a song we could do. We did, That’s How Strong My Love Is, by Otis Redding. We did it because the Stones did it. We said, “Wow, Mick Jagger really can sing.” I mean… because that is a hard song to sing. When you try to sing it… you go… “wow it is really hard” ! He could sing. He could sing better than we thought he could sing. Just like that. We did a couple of folk tunes. We did… I Know You Rider, which the Dead wound up doing allot, but we didn’t do it because the Dead were doing it. We did it for the same reason they did it, because it was a folk song left over… that we all liked. Peter did… Blind Man , which is an old gospel thing. We did a couple of his children songs. I started writing songs right away. We built up a repertoire right off.

J. At what point did you leave the basement? I guess the word might be… and go public?

S. Yeah! Now that is a good question. Cause well…we did that first Big Brother rehearsal. That was James and Chuck Jones and Peter. Dave never came to that house, so we were out of that house by then. I am not sure what the reason…. Peter’s uncle owned that house… maybe it had come time to sell it or something. For some reason everyone had to move at a certain point. I can’t remember… John. I’ll have to look it up.

J. About what year are you talking about?

S. This is like…65 …that I got together with Peter. I think it was in the Spring and we practiced all through that and really by 66 we were a full fledged rock and roll band. I am not sure. Maybe we were rehearsing on Henry Street at Mouse’s Studio by then. By the time Janis came we were like the third rock and roll band in the city or something. There was Quicksilver, Airplane and us… and that was about it.

J. Exactly, I had heard you had played the Trips Festival, but I also read that you opened your very first concert was at the Open Theater in Berkeley. I got this somewhere out of my many publications.

S. Hmm! That sounds right.

J. And then after the Open Theater in Berkeley, you did a Trips Festival.

S. Yeah! I don’t remember the Open Theater gig at all. I wish I did. Who was it with?

J. That is all… that is the only little tidbit.

S. I remember the Trips Festival with total clarity, because it was so amazing.

J. Do you want to share some of those thoughts?

S. Yeah! Well! Where it was? It was in the Longshoreman’s Hall, which is a union hall. Which is down by Fisherman’s Wharf. So right away it is in a really strange place, for all of us. It is not some place we would ever go near. It is like this tourist thing…you know? I still see it today and I wonder, “why did we ever play there”? It is this concrete geodesic dome kind of thing. Total concrete…all hard surfaces. Out of all the places for us to have had that, I wonder why it happened there. I am going to have to ask someone one of these days.

J. I heard the sound in there…because of the concrete…just bounced off the walls.

S. Yeah, it was really odd although that added to the psychodelicness, if you will, of the whole thing. It was a trip for all of us just to get there. It was way away from the Haight. You know, so we all went into this strange environment. That was when Bill Graham was first coming up. He had this clipboard and he was running around with the clipboard, ticking off things and yelling at everyone. I thought, “What is he doing here”? First of all…it is in this strange place and then here is this monster running around terrorizing everyone. He doesn’t even know what we are about. Why is he here? He really stood out. He had short hair. He was like… you know, doing his Bill Graham thing, which we all came to value very much later. But it just looked like an awful thing. I tried…I guess we went to there… one the week before that…Big Brother wasn’t playing…and then we played the one the week later. The next one or something because I went in and our drummer was handicapped. He was dragging his leg behind him. I said, “I am Sam Andrew from Big Brother”. The guy said, “OK,! You can go in” and I said, “This is our drummer, he wants to come in to”. Oh yeah! It was Bill Graham at the door and he said, “No way he can’t come in. No way. No way”. I leaned over and said, “You’re a motherfucker”, and he just went blaaah!…and exploded. We had to get Chet to come and calm him down. He was going to murder me and then throw me out of the building. Only later did the other shoe drop and I realized what had happened. Just right before that Ken Kesey had let in about fifty people in the back the back door. You know, the Merry Pranksters, which he still has a tendency to do and he had done that and Bill had just really flipped out about that. So right after this…here I am…doing that.

J. So he was looking at charging? He wanted to make sure people paid to get in.

S. Yeah, and we needed someone to do that. At first it just seemed he was this horrible thing, contrary to everything we were working for. Here he was…in the flesh. Right in the middle of our thing. You know. What is he doing here?

J. I believe the order goes…that Janis hadn’t joined you guys and you were already playing at places like the Fillmore?

S. Yeah, and the Trips Festival, she wasn’t at that.

J. Family Dog?

S. Right.

J. When you were playing these places, it was mostly instrumental…I understand. Is that right? I was just wondering what your thoughts were on those? Especially the two, the Fillmore is always held up as one type of a place and the Family Dog, the Avalon, was held up as another.

S. More in retrospect, I think. I think they were more similar than we thought . It is just that Chet ran the Avalon and Bill ran the Fillmore. It was fun to play that music. It was really a lot of fun because there wasn’t any precedent for it. The kind of songs we would do with Janis later…that was more common. We joined a tradition…then when she came to the band. Then we became, like conventional musicians. But right in that beginning phase, it was really experimental. Very experimental. We would try anything. Any sound that would come out. Just use anything at all. It was a lot of fun. It was a necessary period for us because it loosened us up. She came just about at the right time. We had had about six to nine months to experiment with that stuff. It would be just like you putting any color on that canvas. No plan….

J. Actually that is how I started painting.

S. Yeah, Me too. I have painted too and I started that same way. It is good to do that for a long time and see what results are good. That is what we had had… a little period of doing just that…just before she came to the band, because we couldn’t have done that with her. She wouldn’t have stood for it. No singer will stand for that. You know? Musicians just playing anything they want and being kind of anarchic.

J. I read one of the articles you gave me which said …the singer is structure.

S. I sing myself. I don’t like to have someone going brbdddddrrrr over here… when I am trying to remember what the bridge is. You have to remember all the words. You kind of want a band, to kind of behave it self. It is real different being a singer from being a player.

J. Can we back up just a minute?

S. Sure.

J. How did you come up with the name Big Brother and the Holding Company?

S. Well, that again was Chet…gave everything to the band. I mean, he gave the band the vision. He brought James to the band. He brought Janis to the band. He brought everybody. He really did a lot for that band and one of the things he did, was write down a lot of names on two pieces of paper. Ridiculous names. They all were ridiculous, just like Big Brother is ridiculous. On one of the pages he had Big Brother and the other he had the Holding Company. Big Brother was… because of George Orwell and it’s the government. So it’s kind of ironic…if a rock and roll band takes that name. The Holding Company…you know…is like a childish witticism. Holding at that time meant… do you have any drugs. Someone would say, “Are you holding, man”? You knew it meant…do you have any drugs? “No! I am not holding now but maybe later”. So it was the Holding Company. We all thought that was like…really witty, because it is also like a conglomerate that owns a lot of smaller companies. Like Johnson & Johnson is a holding company. So Big Brother and the Holding Company kind of fit, because it is the government. It kind of had a sound, or a feel. So we just thought, “let’s put them together”. And then someone with a practical turn of mind said, “Well… maybe that is too long for a record label”. We said… “Ah! We’ll worry about it when the time comes”. It was just that. Chet had the list. He had Roy Rogers and the Electric Sandwich and just a lot of silly sixties names. I am glad we didn’t get a name like Moby Grape though, which doesn’t make any sense for that band at all. It doesn’t describe their music. It is the punch line to an old stupid sixties joke. What is purple and weighs thousands of pounds? Moby Grape.

J. Oh! OK!

S. It is a totally ridiculous name. So we could have wound up with something like that.

J. Chocolate Watch Band?

S. Yeah! Strawberry Alarm Clock. Yeah! J. The idea that…I have read over a lot of years…was that someone perceived the need of a strong vocalist. You decided to go towards a female vocalist, because of the influence, or success the Airplane was having with Grace Slick.

S. And Sing.

J. Is that pretty much the way it was?

S. Yeah! That is pretty much the way it went. Although I wanted that sound…more like Peter’s kind of thinking today. That is probably what it was. He was probably looking at the Airplane…were by far the most successful band. They had that woman singer. Peter and I sang, but we didn’t sing that well. We knew we kind of needed a singer. I don’t know how the idea that it should be a woman…I mean who else was playing at the time? Quicksilver didn’t have…and the Dead didn’t. The Dead did with out it, but that was a bad decision.

J. But they were the only ones. But they were the most successful.

S. Yeah! J. Did you ever consider a male vocalist prior to Janis?

S. I don’t think so. I am sure if we would have happened on one, we would have done it. But I don’t think we did.

J. So did the group asked Chet to go look for a…

S. Yeah, or we kind of probably were sitting around talking about it and probably Chet said, I know someone I went to school with, Janis at U. T. in Austin. She can really sing. Then he sent Travis Rivers down to get her and he did. He brought her back.

J. So then you rehearsed and got to know each other?

S. Yeah, that was on Henry Street. That was in Mouse’s Studio in San Francisco. He brought her in. People were asking questions at the Lark the other night. I really wish I would have got this question across. They were going, “How did you feel when you first heard Janis sing? Weren’t you bowled over?” I mean, the questions all had that kind of tendency. It was really the other way around. We were the established rock and roll band. We were heavy. We were like: all right, out of three or four bands in this city, we are one of them. we’re in the newspapers all the time. we’re working out. We are doing this woman a favor to even let her come and sing with us. She came in and she was dressed like a little Texan. She didn’t look like a hippie she looked like my mother. Who is also from Texas. She sang real well but it wasn’t like, “Oh we’re bowled over.” It was probably more like, our sound was really loud. It was probably bowling her over. I am sure we didn’t turn down enough for her. She wrote letters home about how exotic all of us were. The names of the bands. That kind of thing. In other words, we weren’t flattened by her and she wasn’t flattened by us. It was probably a pretty equal meeting. She was a real intelligent, Janis was, and she always rose to the occasion. She sang the songs. It wasn’t like this moment of revelation like you would like it to be. Like in a movie or something. It wasn’t like, “Oh my God, now we have gone to heaven. We have got Janis Joplin.” I mean she was good but she had to learn how to do that. It took her about a year to really learn how to sing with and electric band.

J. I have read that the first time you were at the Avalon. Big Brother played and they brought her out. The crowd wasn’t prepared. She did only a couple of songs I believe.

S. Yeah.

J. And I got the impression everybody was going, “What do you think you are doing here?”

S. Well, Peter says that. To me she sounded great I thought she went over. I think the crowd liked her. Maybe some people went up to Peter and James maybe, and to be honest, I think they were both prepared to here these comments too. They would say, “What are you doing with that chick. You are going to spoil your sound.”

J. What did the early critics think? The all important San Francisco Chronicle?

S. Well, you know, I think they liked her right away. We would have to go back. If they even wrote us up at all. But, I didn’t hear any of that get rid of Janis or anything. I thought she was successful right away in what she was doing. She sang a couple of folk numbers. She probably sang I Know You Rider and certainly sang Down On Me. The crowd liked it. They applauded, definitely. It is possible that some of them….Well, if Peter said they did, they did. He doesn’t lie absolutely not. We had this road manager, David Richards. He loved our sound and our approach. He probably saw that thing right away. That a singer will screw that…..what they are going for a singer will screw that up. That is true she did but obviously it was a trade off. We got a great thing for it. The ability to work with a great artist which she is.

J. Well, you said earlier about having to be more structured…..so that is what you are talking about?

S. It was the end of that. I mean we had an idea for a tune. I am not sure if we had this…. but we would put bacon in a hot plate on an amp and plug the hot plate into the amplifier and play the song until the bacon was cooked and then we would stop playing the song and eat the bacon. Now Janis is not going to put up with that.

J. Oh! OK!

J. You did that live in front of people?

S. Uh, I would like to say yes. I think it was like a thought experiment or something. I am not even sure we did it in rehearsal but we had a lot of things going like that where we would play real loud and because of the strange sounds in that it would shift into a different gear and kind of levitate and go somewhere else into intuition land. It was a lot of fun but you can’t do that with a singer.

J. These were long numbers you were doing then?

S. Yeah, Like a set long. One song per set.

J. One song?

S. We did that many times.

J. How long would a set be then?……an hour?

S. that’s another thing, like some times an hour and a half or forty five minutes but it was long. The crowd put up with it because they didn’t have anything better. They knew we were doing something new and they appreciated it.

J. It almost sounds like a performance piece, huh?

S. Yeah, I think it was. They were legitimately performance……we went in with some real early synthesizers a lot of times and used those way before they were commercially available. We changed the sound. That kind of thing.

J. Are you aware of the legend of the Red Dog in Virginia City?

S. Yeah, very much so.

J. I had read you had went and played there for a while.

S. Yeah.

J. How was that?

S. It was great. I went up there. We drove up and it was a long trip in those days. I am going to take Elise up there. We are going to drive up there one of these days. I love that Virginia City. It was great to go an old ghost town. I don’t know how well you know Chuck Flood but he is an expert on ghost towns…….

J. Yeah, he shared that with me.

S. Western America. That was fun for me. Going to see where the Chinese lived. They had their separate place. You can really still all see it because that desert is so dry it just preserves it all. It was kind of all there. I doubt if it is so much today but you could walk around and find little intimate things that they had dealt with in their daily life. It was real exciting, that part. The Red Dog was really……that was really a trip. There were all of these little rooms in kind of a saloon. Mark Twain was one of my favorite writers, definitely. He had been a reporter right in that very little town. It was just so small. That is where he started……I mean really started his writing career at the Territorial Enterprise in Virginia City. It was a lot of fun to be there. To be in this weird place….you know, things happened a lot like that in those days. You would drive hundreds of miles and you would come to this little spot and there would be a lot of, sort of, forward looking people, right in this little town. Cheek by jowl with rednecks and all kinds of other people. That made it a lot of fun. There were a lot of artists there and crazy people. The Charlatans had done the first gigs there. They opened it up. It was a lot of fun, very experimental. Cowboys would be grabbing, James and my, our ankles. Saying like, “Get off that stage. What are you doing up there playing music?”

J. They didn’t throw anything at you, did they?

S. No…once I came in smoking a bowl of marijuana and the waitress said, “Is that pot? that’s the sheriff is right over there.” He was a really big guy with guns on and stuff. I do not know, why I did that. It is not like me. I usually don’t do things like that for some reason I was feeling like it was loose. You know, hundreds of miles from civilization but that wasn’t the case.

J. In fact I think I remember the Charlatans having a problem with drugs up there. They were either driving up there or driving back and got busted and they had drugs in the car and kind of put an end to that.

S. You know that would……Big Brother sailed through all of that completely. I think I know why, because Peter didn’t use drugs, our bass player, at all. He was kind of the authority figure in the band. Everybody kind of instinctually, still, follows Peter. If he will turn right walking everybody will go that way. I was saying the other day, “I have been following Peter all of my life.” He knows were he is going and he plans it well. He has a real great sense of direction. that’s probably why, you know, because we used a lot of drugs but he was kind of the father figure and we were keeping it from him just out of respect. Not hiding it from him but not rubbing his face in it. So it probably keep us kind of clean. We never got busted. We never had any of those things that rock and roll bands are supposed to have. Those horror stories and….

J. Well that kind of leads into a question that I have down here. A lot has been said that psychedelic music came out of the drugs, especially LSD. What is your comments as far as Big Brother?

S. I think so. I think it did for all of the bands. I really do. I don’t think it is a crutch. It just showed us….it kind of opened up our minds a little bit. Made us really aware of color and texture and that kind of thing. Those things all exist in music also. It is another layer. It is hard to relate. We experimented with all that a whole lot. I wouldn’t say we were addicted, but we took them a lot. There’s a fine line between being a drug user and being addicted to drugs, but unfortunately a lot of people struggle to find the right balance and they end up being addicted. We knew a lot of people back in the day who ended up with terrible addictions. One of our closest friends ended up in a drug rehab san diego center. He was a terrible state, but he made a full recovery thanks to the rehab. We were never like that and things never got that bad – we just used to experiment at times to open our minds up. Of course, back then we didn’t know much about what was safe. Nowadays we can look up articles like https://mushroomz.co/how-to-take-shroomz/ and figure out for ourselves if that’s the sort of route we want to take to open up our mind to the music.

J. Do you think you would have developed the whole style of music from San Francisco if it wasn’t for drugs?

S. I have often wondered about that. It is a good question.

J. It surely would have developed into something else.

S. Yeah, you know there were all of these movements in San Francisco, right from the beginning. Right in 1849 there was a Gold Rush. that was a huge nationwide movement but then Mark Twain and Brett Hartt and all of those people came. There was a literary movement in the twenties…the Beatniks. Those things all happened without drugs being a major part of them. So San Francisco has always had these movements and it would have probably had that hippie thing but you just can’t divorce them. Drugs were an intimate part of it.

J. When you were there at the Red Dog, that was prior to Janis joining? do you know?

S. I guess it was. Yeah, I don’t think she ever went to Virginia City. That is too bad. A lot of her friends were there. People she had known her in another life and stuff. There was some of the Texas people were there. But yeah, that’s right. I guess we didn’t have Janis yet.

J. She is famous for her, is it Jack Daniel’s?

S. Yeah, and Southern Comfort.

J. Southern Comfort that was the stuff. So she was more into alcohol?

S. Yeah she was. Her famous line about pot, and it is a true one was, “You know I don’t like to smoke pot because it makes me think.” First of all, she is a thinker. she’s a big time thinker. She is highly intelligent and she thought abstractly allot and it probably made her think more. That is probably the last thing she needed while trying to sing. It will jog you out of a rhythmic groove you have in life, pot will, if you smoke it and your not used to it. It will make you think and you can’t go in that groove any more. It makes it kind of uncomfortable maybe because you reexamine everything. She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to reexamine everything. But we took acid together in Yosemite one time. We had a really good time. And another time in Vancouver we were both dosed by the Dead. It was a full moon and we sat out on the beach all night and watched this moon move across the sky. It was really a beautiful experience. It was just great. It was like two friends…talked about everything. It was really great. Both times I took acid with her were real pleasant.

J. I had very good strong, feelings from all of my reading that you and Janis were indeed very close friends.

S. Yeah, it wasn’t sexual the way until brief sexual episode way at end of our relationship, just before she died. No we were just like really good friends. Real good, allot to say. We had a lot of laughs. She was good for a lot of laughs. She was a great person. She was a lot of fun to hang out with. She was real smart and interested in everything. I could kinda have a real conversation with her. It was great.

J. Would it be fair to say you were probably closest to her of all of the members of the band?

S. I think each person was close to her in their own way. So she was real close to Dave. She was real close to James. I was with her physically in the same room more often than anyone in their life during that period but each person kind of had their own thing with her. She and I would write a lot of the tunes. We would make up the set list. Stuff like that. J. How did you come up with the set list? Especially after she joined. It kind of open a whole new world for you. S. Yeah. It was great, yeah. You mean as far as the material?

J. How did you chose what you were going to perform?

S. Well, it just happened. We had a lot of….we had like two hundred tunes in rotation, an immense number of tunes. Dave found a list the other day. it’s astonishing, some of them I don’t even remember. I can see the titles but…….we were doing a lot of……we were rehearsing eight hours a day in Lagunitas which is a little north of here. We just swallowed mounds of material and digested it. We let a lot of good songs go. When I see a lot of them today, I go, “Why did we ever stop doing that? That is a great song.” A song I would like to resurrect again is Road Block that Peter did in Monterey Pop Festival. It was a really good song I would love to do that again. But I don’t know. We would just hear songs we liked on records or we would hear someone and we would say, “How about doing that tune?” and we would bring it in.

J. You mentioned Lagunitas. That is a question I have. Did you actually live together as a extended family?

S. Yeah, yeah, it was in one house. Someone rumored that it had been Teddy Roosevelt’s hunting cabin but I don’t know if that is true. That is what it looked like, like a Victorian hunting lodge. All made out of wood. It was a beautiful house. Everybody came in real early and staked out the bedrooms they wanted to get you know. This is a problem with communal living. I got there and there was no bedroom left. I said, “Ah, what am I going to do” and I walked around the house and there was a little cabin around the back. I thought, “Well, I am going to live in that.” That turned out to be the place to live. Everybody was really mad that I got that. J. Because of privacy?

S. Yeah, by myself out there. I wrote a lot of songs out in that little cabin. I wish I lived there now.

J. Mentally I picture a wooded hillside with a Victorian on it. Is that so?

S. Yeah, very much so. With unfinished logs on this real long porch. A beautiful house, really beautiful. We got it for some ridiculous rent, even extrapolating to today it was real low rent. We all lived there for quite a while and rehearsed every day as only young people can do. There were had no bills, no taxes, no family, no children. I mean Peter had a child but basically everybody focused like a laser on that task we had at hand. We made immense progress doing that.

J. Big Brother decided to go to Chicago and I guess you had a residency for a while at a night club (Mother Blues).

S. Probably our only one if ever in the whole career. This club had hired us, I think, for six weeks to play there. This is the Midwest were they have a work ethic. People actually work for a living and stuff. They wanted us to play six sets a night. Still I have never heard of a band doing that since out here but probably it was a standard for in old days especially with black bands. The people just play all of the time. With the Sam Andrew Band I go out and play all night. We start at nine thirty or something and go till two o’clock but we take long breaks. it’s easier because we know we are in for the long haul. We are not straining and stuff you know. That was Chicago and the Midwest glorified and they wanted six sets a night of us, you know, of Janis and all of us. It was really a boon for us because it made us really have to work to do that and get that done every night. I think it was six nights a week. So that was a good thing.

J. She ran the full six weeks?

S. I am not sure if we did because the money ran out. The club owners didn’t live up to their side. We lived up to our side. We played six sets a night but they ran out of money or something. They had second thoughts. It turned bad. They were not only weren’t going to pay us anymore but weren’t going to pay our trip home. So all of a sudden we’re stranded in Chicago which was really something in 1966.

Life Is Like A Journey


My first journey in life was very beautiful and warm. I was a zygote and I remember the trip to the womb as if it were yesterday. I swam through a pink tunnel, gorgeous, wet and so attractive. The journey felt as if I were pulled along for what seemed like days when I entered the palace of the uterus. What a place. Everything you could want was there. Gas, food and lodging, so to speak. It felt like coming into a hall of miracles after days on the road. I was growing so rapidly and I felt very expansive. There was a wild sense of possibility. Now I’m a blastocyst being pushed along by the soft cilia, so lovely, that line the Fallopian tube. God, what a trip. Just as I thought that I was going to crash into a wall, I seemed to merge with it. I just melted into this new place as if I had been there all my life. This was the first of many, many stops in life where I would feel this melting into a strange surrounding. Melting there with no pain and no anxiety.

I stayed in this palace for quite a while and enjoyed it with a kind of ecstasy that I haven’t felt since. When my mother and father had sexual intercourse like they were a part of an adult content website like https://www.tubev.sex/, I felt as if I were in a kind of super Jacuzzi being shaken up and down and every way. I was so happy that I sucked my thumb and tried to dance a couple of times. Not much room to turn around in a uterus, though.

After all of this, being born was rather anticlimactic. Mother’s cervix opened to about the size of a grapefruit (everything in the woman’s body is about the size of a grapefruit) and I pushed my face out into that overly lit operating room and thought, “Well, all right, something new.” I was manhandled a bit, being broad shouldered and all, but I was happy to move on, and everyone was very kind and encouraging, both to my mother and me.

After those two journeys, one through the Fallopian tube and the other through the birth canal, nothing of real importance happened until puberty. Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and tribes of humans through time have stressed that adolescence is a time when our real self, or our psyche, goes through a death and rebirth. All I can say is that they were understating the case. I mean, I became a teenager in San Antonio, Texas, and you don’t want to do that. Death Texas style was having to attend a dance where Mexicans and “Anglos” (guess who they were?) hated each other. Yes, I know, too stupid for words, but, what do you want? This was the 1950s and it was dangerous. Not like in the movies. Everyone was carrying guns and knives because they didn’t know what else to do.

The “rebirth” part of Carl Jung’s scenario came when my father was transferred by his Air Force superiors to an island called Okinawa. The real name of Okinawa was Heaven and now my journey was to Asia.

Think of Hawaii with no tourists and no commercialism and you begin to have a slight idea of Okinawa as it was then. The phrase “unspoiled Shangri-La” doesn’t begin to describe the island. Besides this there was a lot of status, employment and paychecks for people our age, since all of the adults were soldiers and soldiers’ wives who had no time to be newspaper reporters, musicians, disc jockeys, editorial cartoonists, entrepreneurs, sales representatives, poets, artists and all of the other things that we adolescents became by default. Heaven is too mild a term for Okinawa. It was some golden, empyrean Paradise that we entered through the Torii, a special gate constructed by the gods for people who were being reborn.

From Okinawa I came through another Golden Gate to San Francisco where I entered a university and studied very hard. I loved being in the library and buried myself there on a journey of the spirit into classical realms that I had not dreamt of before this.

The next bon voyage was to Paris, the Sorbonne, and the Alliance Française. In the City of Light I felt the thrill of walking where so many others…Charlemagne, Abélard, Rabelais, Erasmus, Voltaire, Pasteur, Balzac…and all of those beautiful women…Héloise, Jeanne d’Arc, Joséphine, Sarah Bernhardt, Isadora Duncan, Colette, Brigitte Bardot, Anouk Aimée…had walked before. I dreamed in the same places that they had dreamed, heard the same sweet birdsong, saw the startling green of the leaves turn to crackling brown in autumn, les feuilles mortes. I turned the dead leaves of the books in the stalls along the Seine, just as these people had. I felt the same frisson of being alive and young in the most beautiful city in the world.

Something pulled me back to San Francisco as strongly as I was pulled through the Fallopian tube when I was a zygote. I journeyed home, a blastocyst again, and implanted myself in the uterine wall of San Francisco, never, really, to leave again. Only in dreams.

Now, the 1960s and limousines, and New York, and Janis Joplin, jazz, Roland Kirk and seeing Mingus over and over again at the Village Gate, and hairy, hippy times, media circus, wild, joy, writing one song after another, can’t wait, glorious, flash bulb popping Amyl Nitrate, Chelsea Hotel, Warhol, Edie, Joe, Larry Rivers, ridiculous, artistic high, spiraling into the Max’s Kansas City night, yelling happy, Life Magazine, Sony Tape Recorders, Columbia Music, God, I love it, velvet, silk, lace, delicate groupie, drinking, thinking, stinking, all wide open possibility, cells dividing, multiplying, LSD, vistas enlarging, Helen and Bryce Marden, out on the margin, Larry Poons, Minimalist Art in the front and Pop Art in the back, one Rauschenberg after the other Oldenberg, and, oh, yes, Heroin. Our Heroine. Who left us lying on the floor and asking for more. Death and Rebirth, yes. Just like Jung. Jung and easily Freudened as Joyce said, what on earth? Well, at least I got a Gold Record out of it. And a cheap shot.

Then in the 70s I took a trip to school. Quiet, quiet school. A time to reconsider and go back to the calm theory. I studied harmony, counterpoint, conducting with a great sensei in New York. Bewitched by writing a symphony and many other pieces for all kinds of instruments. If I heard an instrument playing in the street, I would go home and write a piece for it. I followed Bartok and wrote some rock and roll string quartets where the notation called for pulling and scratching the delicate instruments. When I heard these pieces I was as astounded as anyone else by the journey they told.

Return to the uterus of San Francisco and learn the saxophone and play jazz in a quartet setting with a shaved head and a sense of mission. This took ten years.

Then, our Big Brother and the Holding Company band takes up its itinerary again. What a surprise. We come to Japan and see that the Japanese people are not all the same but are quite individual, each from the other. We see the Japanese as severely intellectual and totally trivial at the same time. Refined and trashy. Discriminating to such a degree that it is a pleasure to watch and yet the Japanese will absorb anything and quickly too. Mentally and physically these Japanese are so different from each other, that it is fatuous to make any general statement about them. I love them for reasons that I cannot even tell myself.

Now, I am doing theatre. My journey has come to the playhouse where there is a story about Janis Joplin. I train the orchestra to play her songs and we will do this in New York and London next. I am the zygote and I move through this Fallopian tube of life, cells dividing, learning and being fascinated with this journey to the final womb.

Big Brother: After The Party Is Over

After Janis Joplin and I left the band Big Brother was in disarray. Peter Albin (bass) and Dave Getz (drums) played desultorily with Country Joe and other bands and James Gurley (guitar) went to live in the desert. Later, disgusted, disheveled, despairing and distraught, I returned to the West Coast just after being asked by Janis to play with the Kozmic Blues Band at Woodstock. I was at the end of a chapter though and just did not have the reserves to stay the extra two weeks in New York. It was definitely time to return to the fold.

I called my “brothers” here in Marin and we had a meeting in Fairfax to discuss future strategy. We wanted to work with Nick Gravenites because of his superlative songs and he seemed agreeable so we began to rehearse. I also had had the good fortune to meet Kathi MacDonald a year or so earlier when I had been volunteered to be her birthday present one fine sunny afternoon. We wrote a song together immediately and I resolved to have her in any band I was in as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She is a wonderful singer with an awesome array of vocal devices and an encyclopedic knowledge of the American popular song in the second half of the twentieth century. She knew ALL the words to all the songs we ever heard together, however obscure, recondite or esoteric. But it was Kathi’s basic equipment that was most impressive. There was a razor sharp edge in her voice that could cut through any smoky barroom atmosphere and her mind and heart were just as sharply defined.

Big Brother went on the road with these stalwarts and we had a lot of good times. Nick and Kathi were a good team and we had all finally learned how to play and even to play in tune. We played a memorable date in Salt Lake City that I still have a tape of. The band was going through an adventurous period and we experimented with a lot of different styles. This was to change later when a more conservative (Republican?) approach reared its ugly head but during this 1970-­1972 period we were wide open to many different styles. We did a song called Promise Her Anything But Give Her Arpeggio that was Slavic in feeling. There was another (Maui) that featured what James and I called the Big Kahuna Lick right at the beginning. We had been going over to the Hawaiian islands for a year or so and living on Makena Beach on Maui and every local song we heard featured a very characteristic bit of melody over
the II­V change (D minor to G7 in the key of C). We put this in the intro to Maui playing it in a very sinuous, island style and it worked.

Be A Brother - 1970

Then there was Home On The Strange which had a rather jazzy feel and some metric experimentation. The amazing thing now is that everyone was willing to try these different directions…a very good growth period for the band. I played piano on a sort of Mexican piece in 3/4 and Dave played the marimbas. These tunes are not so time bound and when we hear them today they are not dated but still interesting.

Kathi and Nick were a pleasure to work with because they were each formidable singers and really knew how to get the most out of a tune. It seems amazing now that we took both of them on the road. Nick was as big as Kathi was small. He looked like a giant Chicago truckdriver right out of a Zap Comic and she could hide behind the mike stand until that huge voice came out of her tiny rail­thin body.

We had a lot of laughs and played some fun gigs but times were tough along about this point. Hard drugs had come into the society as a whole and into the band in particular and it was increasingly difficult to maintain a grueling touring schedule. One by one the members of Big Brother stepped off the bandbus until for long periods of time I was the only original member still keeping the flame alive. We played some really strange dates down in the South, Alabama, Georgia, Florida and we played them with some strange people sometimes. The Big Brother mystique was definitely lost at this time and I was just blindly following directions, riding on auto pilot many times and others reaching deep into my heart and soul and pulling out everything that had ever meant flying high with inspiration. Finally even I had to recognize that it wasn’t working. Playing with Kathi was worth it right up to this point but when she called it a day so did I.

This was a time for anonymity, regrouping and going back to school so I did these things in New York City where they were all not only eminently possible but the only course to take at that time. Based in a studio apartment where West 11th and West 4th meet, I studied harmony and counterpoint at the New School For Social Research and composition at Mannes School of Music. The study of counterpoint (the aural equivalent of a plastic artist taking on the discipline of perspective) was extremely seductive and I wrote a symphony and two string quartets to exploit this new way of feeling the music.

Big Brother was completely on hold and I did not even see Peter, Dave or James for the eight years I lived in New York. I did a lot of studio work with some very proficient players and went on tour with a couple of Afro­Cuban groups which was quite educational in many ways (some extra musical). Finally the New York chapter was drawing to a close and I seized an opportunity to play in Richmond, Virginia, over the summer of 1978.

Right at the end of this period a call came from California that Chet Helms was holding an event at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley with David La Flamme, Country Joe, Quicksilver and lot of old friends. It was a reunion and it could not have come at a better time. I really looked forward to seeing everyone in the band. The four of us in Big Brother had not played together in almost ten years and there was some apprehension as to whether we even could. We rented a rehearsal space at Hun Sound in San Rafael and I was even late arriving for that. Peter Albin was waxing nervous and he called in Chuck Day, an exemplary guitarist, just in case I didn’t make it. This considerably muddied the waters since Chuck really wanted to play on the final day (who wouldn’t?) and he was quite reluctant to give up his chair when I did arrive. I had to play the bad guy and remind him that after all I founded the band with Mr. Albin. Peter very graciously left me to deal with this situation that he had created and we did get through it. Chuck stood in the back of the band on that final day and played very well indeed. The same could not be said of Big Brother who were out of practice. We finally rose to the occasion though and there were lots of smiles for old pals. I tried to persuade the band to get back together but there were no takers. They were happy with their lives as they were and settled into domestic routines. It was really hard to have traveled three thousand miles for one engagement, spectacular though it was, and then be at loose ends so I learned to play the saxophone and played jazz for a few years in a small room, monklike, shaven head, renunciation of the floating world and all.

The big change came in 1986 and it is difficult to say why. The immediate cause was Matthew Katz, the man who had such an effect on Moby Grape’s career. He called us to ask if we would play a gig down south somewhere and the answer was a resounding no, but that question planted a seed. It was an anniversary of the Summer of Love, a title which seemed sentimental and simplistic even in 1966, and there was supposed to be resurgence of interest in the bands of the sixties. Well, there was, but not entirely in the way imagined by retailers and promoters.

The important thing is that we reunited and it was wonderful. We put an ad in the paper advertising for a singer to go with a band “similar to Big Brother and the Holding Company” to Europe and began holding auditions. Herb Caen mentioned that we were doing this and there was a splash of interest in the reunion. The scary thing was: would we still be able to play and could we even remember how? From the first moment this doubt was dispelled. All of the feelings and finger memories came flooding back into that little studio of Joey Covington’s in Mill Valley. I had played all of those tunes most recently (in a stint with Pearl Heart aka Joey Amoroso a flamboyant gay man who made Liberace look tame) and remembered them well enough to teach them to the rest of the band when the need arose. The main thing is that the feeling and the joy were there and that we were unified in chordal memories and spiritual congruencies.

A lot of women singers came to this little boite of a studio by Tam Junction and many of them were quite good. There were the inevitable Janis clones, flowing hair and bracelets aplenty screaming out feelings of solidarity with the beautiful Janis of their dreams, hippie women keeping the flame alive, God bless them all. Nancy Wenstrom came by. She could play her ass off on the guitar and was a good singer too. She had style and originality and later I called her on a few engagements that I did with my band. She has always been a total professional and a pleasure to sing and play with. Plus she can boogie down with the best of them.

Some of the singers were on the pop side, attractive, perky, trying so hard to be good and funky. Others were the dark side of the moon, jazzy, beat and poetically understated. Then there was Michel Bastian, politically incorrect (she was wearing a rabbit fur coat down to her ankles) in a Reno lounge style and totally prepared for the audition. It was obvious that she knew all the tunes and that she sang them night after night. She had dreamed of this auction and she was ready for the big time. Michel had long dark hair and a gospel sound right out of Oakland. Her voice was wide open, full of emotion and yet trained by Judy Davis, doyenne of the Bay Area vocalists. Michel was so organized, so redolent of the professional lounge engagement, so disciplined, so South Bay and East Bay that she was immensely appealing. To this day she never fails to make an emotional connection with the audience. Something in her reaches out and takes one at a very elemental level for all of her seeming artifice. When she came to us that day she looked like a Mediterranean Marilyn Monroe. Spectacular. We were shocked, surprised and very pleased from the first note she sang. There was no question; she was the only one even close to what we had imagined. Oakland meets Marin. Lounge meets lunge. Steak and potatoes meets tofu. What can I say? The comic and cosmic possibilities were endless.

We made every possible mistake that we could and even invented a couple that any self respecting novelist would blush to record. We had a decent booking agent who at least kept us in a few engagements a month and as soon as we could we discharged him and never found another. We played up in Alaska in August when it was cold as ice and rode for hundreds of miles in a tour bus not in the best of spirits.

Michel and I were on the phones for months trying to find someone to book us and it was impossible. It would be a whole story in itself to chronicle all the mistakes we made. Mainly we were just coming from the small end of the looking glass (or low self esteem as James Gurley would put it). It stayed this way for years.

Then all of a sudden this year (1994­-1995) there has been a sea change of some sort. Last October we went to Moscow and that worked really well and I have been writing letters to Russia (in Russian) for many months now trying to follow up. The future is so bright I wear sunglasses most of the time. We are going to Japan in April and will be just in time for the cherry blossoms to come out in Kyoto, that most Japanese of cities. We will also be in time to play benefits for victims of the latest quake that centered in Kobe and we are eager to do this.

Two days after we return from Japan I am going to Paris where there is every promise of a creative collaboration on many levels with many of our francophone friends. If anyone knows of good people in Paris, please let me know. I will call them and that is a promise.

Thus, this late in the game, we are all of a sudden an international band with connections in many countries and every possibility of making a lot of people very happy. This is wonderful and exhilarating and we are now able and willing to grab this opportunity with both hands (the way one is supposed to take a business card in Japan). I am learning the two Japanese alphabets and about five hundred kanji (Chinese characters that are used in Japan). Everything looks good and we are all working very hard really to deserve this new chance to play music.