The Spirit Was Randy

Anybody who knows me well will know that I hold three guitarists up as role models. All three had different styles; jazz, blues, psychedelic. All three could be incredibly intense yet were capable of holding back, being tasteful, even without ego at times, often to the detriment of their careers. One, Larry Coryell, I have already posted about. Another, Rory Gallagher, I will get to one of these days. Both were undisputed masters in their genres, trail blazers, fiery players also noted for being very nice guys.

The third, Randy California, known primarily for his work in the 1960s California psych group Spirit, needs some explanation. His history was remarkable, as was his bad luck, general goofiness, and willingness to occasionally torpedo his own career. He was a fantastic guitarist with an incredible pedigree, having played lead for Jimmy James & the Blue Flames, Jimi Hendrix' group in Greenwich Village back in 1966, before Jimi was discovered. He was only 16. Hendrix wanted to bring him to England, but wiser heads prevailed.

His real name was Randy Wolfe; Hendrix gave him the 'California' moniker because there was a Randy from Texas playing bass in the group. His step dad at the time was a working drummer named Ed Cassidy. When the two of them got back to Los Angeles, they formed a group mostly with members of an old garage band called the Roosters, calling it Spirit. Barry Hanson, later to gain fame as Doctor Demento, was their first manager.

Lou Adler signed them, getting a deal at Epic, but he didn't know what to do with them. I suspect that he thought they were a combination of the Doors and Hendrix, a sure-fire hit in 1968. Instead, he had a heavy-ish psych band that played more jazz than blues, a little weak on the vocals but good song writers. Lou produced their first album, good tunes but weak on production, too much orchestration, not enough bass and drum power.

Providing the soundtrack to 'Model Shop', a disappointing Jacques Demy movie (not as disappointing as it was to Harrison Ford, chosen by the director for his first lead role but nixed by the studio) was treading water. The music they provided was almost all instrumental acid jazz, more Wes Montgomery than Hendrix, unreleased for thirty years. Spirit did manage a hit in 1968 with 'I Got a Line On You' from their second album;

The original five piece were a popular live band, if a little weird. Bands like the Kinks and Led Zeppelin opened for them, a point to remember in the current dispute over authorship of 'Stairway to Heaven'. Their best moment was their last, the album 'Twelve Dreams of Dr, Sardonicus', one of the absolute top psychedelic albums of all time. Listen to the opening tracks:

Unfortunately, not only did the group split up, but Randy had a bad accident while riding a horse, cracking his head open on a tree branch. For the next two years, he behaved irrationally, displaying classic symptoms of Closed Head Injury. It was over for Spirit; they had already failed to show at Woodstock, missing their chance at immortality. After a brief tour as a four piece with a new bass player, Randy wandering from song to song, he quit.

Ed stayed with the band, causing a rupture not only between Randy and him but a divorce with Randy's mom. Spirit managed one terrible album before collapsing. Randy started his solo project, Kaptain Kopter & the Twirly Birds, producing one of the most Hendrix-inspired miasmic psychedelic albums of all time, a murky impenetrable classic. Ed rejoined Randy in the new band.

Things got really weird. They recoded the infamous 'Potatoland' album - technically, 'The Adventures of Kaptain Kopter and Kommander Cassidy in Potatoland', which was so strange that the record company rejected it. It is a wee odd, but also a stone cold classic. They did a infamous tour of England where Randy's behavior was suicidal, ending with him jumping into the Thames. Then he quit the music business, becoming a bum in Hawaii.

After 18 months writing songs on the beach, Randy contacted Ed after being told to in a dream. They got together again, trying to tour as Spirit, only to find that they didn't own the name any more. Raising the money to buy back ownership, they started Spirit again as a low-rent operation, moving to Florida, playing anywhere for any money, stripped to a three piece. Randy could do the entire Hendrix stage act - playing with is teeth, behind his back, over his head - although his own songs were mellower generally.

They lucked out when a headliner, Ten Years After, in their death throes, failed to show up. Spirit filled in and filled the place. The paycheck allowed them enough studio time to record a double album, 'Spirit of '76' as well as 'Son of Spirit'. The double album was spacey as hell, sounding completely different from anything else at the time. It sold pretty well, and included some great material.

There was a partial reunion, another album, the largely disappointing 'Farther Along'. At a high profile concert in California, with the original band reunited on stage, Randy managed to get into a fight with guest star Neil Young, thus grasping defeat from the jaws of victory. Everybody but Ed abandoned ship, including management. The next album, 'Future Games', sounds like a guy hitting the ganga on an afternoon while binge watching television. It's weird, without any notion of organization. Things were looking dark.

Spirit did another tour of England and Europe, where Randy was considered a guitar god, releasing a live album on their own Potato Records. A few years later, a bastardized disco version of 'Potatoland' was released on Rhino, a terrible record that did garner some press. Randy decided it was time for a solo career, moving to Europe, trying to invent himself, with partial success, as a hard rock musician.

There were three albums and a couple of singles, European releases only, full of Randy's typical goofy weirdness. It was popular, especially in places like Germany. He toured under his own name or under the Spirit moniker; it didn't really make a difference. Here's a taste of a particular favorite of mine, 'Killer Weed', showcasing his oddball style.

In between all this activity, there was yet another try at a Spirit reunion, this one in 1984, no doubt due to the popularity of Randy's song '1984'. It was a mess, plastic jump suits, outside musicians, music videos too corny even for MTV. Avoid this material at all costs, it really sucks. Ed and Randy continued to tour, although Randy also had a European band. IRS Records decided to revive some classic rock bands, and that included Spirit. 'Rapture in the Chamber' was the best thing in a long while. The next one, 'Tent of Miracles' was even better.

There was a psychedelic revival going on. Epic re-released all their early albums with extra tracks, selling well enough to keep Randy and Ed on the road often. They kept it to a three piece most of the time, picking up different musicians in different parts of the country. They set up their own record company, using the internet to sell records, keeping it small, manageable. 'Chronicles' came out in 1992, 'Live a the La Paloma' in 1995, 'California Blues' in 1996. Randy was turning to the blues, adding members, planning for the future.

Randy California died in a freak accident on January 2, 1997. He was with his 12 year old son, swimming in the ocean in Hawaii. His son got caught in a rip tide. Randy rescued him but was swept out to sea, never to be seen again. It seemed cruel, just as Randy was getting his shit together, healthy, happy, at a creative high point.

It was a crushing blow; Ed tried to keep going, but bad blood between him and Randy's mon (his ex-wife) meant that he couldn't use 'Spirit' in any fashion. A CD of unreleased material was put out, 'Cosmic Smile', a bit lame, mostly demos using drum machines. A few tributes were written, Randy California's memory starting to drift into oblivion.

Then an odd thing happened; an Englishman named Mick Skidmore entered the picture, determined to rescue Randy's legacy. Earning the trust of the Wolfe estate, he released twelve excellent CD sets, mostly 2, 3 or even 4 CDs full of new or obscure material. It was done right, with great annotation, meticulously researched, put into some sort of chronological or thematic order. It was the kind of archival work that you wish had been applied to the Jimi Hendrix estate, but never was. It not only rescued Randy's reputation, it exposed hundreds of songs and performances, showing him as an artist constantly striving to expand his horizon.

Mick Skidmore has also continued to go after Led Zeppelin for copyright infringement, something Randy acknowledged by never pursued. Of could Plant and Page are guilt; just ask Willie Dixon, Jake Holmes, Bert Jansch or Muddy Walters. Perhaps the great cosmic irony is that, after death, Randy California was better managed than he ever was in life. Ed Cassidy died at the age of 93. I imagine that the two of them are somewhere together, creating music for the cosmos, some great spacey stuff floating in the aether.

None of this explains why I hold Randy California in such high regard. There were greater guitar players, but I can't think of anyone who persevered so strongly. He always figured out a way to keep making music, even if he just punched out Neil Young in front of all the big rock critics. Never in a hurry, Randy played it only like he felt it, a casual, tasteful, restrained player who could knock your socks off at any moment, but didn't need to. Not for his sake. Just maybe for yours.