Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Double Your Pleasure Part Ten





In the last post, I intimated that a certain Robert Stigwood might have been stealing money from Cream and Eric Clapton, something long rumored in the music press. What was he doing with this money? Why, supporting the Bees Gees in grand style, including many yacht trips.  Like the brothers Gibbs, Stigwood was from Australia, able to get a foothold in the English musical establishment via the incredibly weird Joe Meeks as early as 1960. A series of setbacks and misfortunes had him scrambling around, at various time associated with both Brian Epstein, manager of the Beatles, and Chris Stamp and Kit Lambert, manager of  the Who.



One thing you had to say about Stigwood, he was a born hustler. Part of the notorious 'Pink Mafia' (not my term) of gay impresarios pulling the strings behind the scenes in the British musical establishment, Stigwood finally hit the big time with Cream, Soon after, he was hustling the Bee Gees, straight from Australian success, like there was no tomorrow. There were two reasons for this; the music was more to his liking, and the brother Gibbs wanted him to do it, unlike the underground bad boys Clapton, Baker and Bruce.



Stigwood tirelessly hustled the Bee Gees as the new Beatles. They certainly could sing the harmonies, although the songwriting was rarely up to those standards. Nevertheless, it paid off, and the band hit big in England and Europe. Continuing the push into America, the rumors started to spread about the outrageous spending on the Bee Gees promotions, far in excess of their actual worth.



Starting to land songs in the American charts, the Bee Gees did the thing least likely - recording a very interesting double album. 'Odessa' came out in 1969, when the band actually had members without the last name Gibbs playing lead guitar and drums. A sort-of concept album that even plays with country rock on more than one song, it still sounds like the early Bee Gees, but with a purpose and some taste added. The last thing you should ever expect me to say is that I actually like a Bee Gees album, but 'Odessa' sounds not unlike the Zombies on 'Odyssey and Oracle' or even contemporary Donovan.



The album was a serious misstep, an attempt to do a rock opera just like the Pretty Things or Who. It does have at times a grand classical sound, often flirting with a Moddy Blues type progressive rock approach. Over the decades, it has become a critical favorite, but at the time, Stigwood's relentless hustle made the brother Gibbs seem like a charade. Having a red velvet album cover with gold embossed letters didn't help either.



It actually works, by far the best thing the band ever did in the realm of rock. That didn't matter at the time, as Robin left the group within a month of it's cool reception. The next album, the horribly titled 'Cucumber Castle', showed the band going straight for the teenyboppers with about as much success. Everyone recorded a solo album, and they all were unreleased except for perhaps a stray single here and there. Then the brothers came back together, tails between their legs.



It must have been a terrifying time for Robert Stigwood. His two acts had dissolved within six months of each other. Being no one's fool, he did the logical thing and diversified. An early backer of Andrew Lloyd Weber, he became involved in stage productions, from 'Hair' to 'Jesus Christ Superstar' onwards. This let him get into the movie business, eventually producing 'Tommy', then 'Saturday Night Live' and 'Grease'. By the end of the 1970s, Stigwood had about as much clout in the entertainment world as anyone.



It was his idea to put the newly disco-fied Bee Gees so prominently on the 'Saturday Night Live' soundtrack, a masterstroke of marketing that sold like no tomorrow. But once the Bee Gees had strived mightily to be relevant, and they largely succeeded. It was the lack of critical and commercial success that doomed 'Odessa', not the quality of the music. If you ever run across it, give it a listen. You might be pleasantly surprised.



The one rock act most unlikely to make it on personal appearance has managed to become one of the giants in the industry despite this setback. Poor Reginald Dwight had unlimited talent but the pudgy body and disappearing hair line of an temp office worker. Both an excellent pianist and great vocalist, Dwight wandered around for years as a pub pianist, playing in various groups, often supporting future superstars like Rod Stewart. At one low point in his career, he actually tried out as lead singer in King Crimson. Already having Robert Fripp, there was only room for one music nerd in the group.



Meeting Bernie Taupin in 1967 was the big break he needed, but Dwight didn't know it yet. The two work extremely well together, able to remove egos from the combination. Together, they signed on as contract songwriters, landing a few songs with the likes of Lulu. Dwight also played some session keyboards for groups such as the Hollies. Having access to a studio allowed Dwight to produce an album in 1969 called 'Empty Skies'. He's trying too hard, but all the elements for his future success are there, including that slight country tinge.



Doing two albums annually for the next couple of year, now rechristened Elton John, he started hitting the charts, mostly with ballads. 'Tumbleweed Connection' was his first truly great album, showing off his ability to extract the maximum emotional charge out his material, as well as  a growing ambition to produce epic material, such as the magnificent 'Burn Down the Mission.' The next album, 'Madman Across the Water', often considered his greatest single album, took this expansive side all the way, yet didn't sell quite as well.



The real game changer for Elton John was a cheaply produced live album, '17-11-70'. Just a raw three piece featuring Elton on both piano and vocals, it showed that he had all the chops needed to be a superstar. More importantly, he could play a crowd with world class precision, completely belying his physicality. In short, on stage Elton John was ten feet tall.



All those years in the shadows had prepared Elton for the big time. Drawing his ambition back for the next couple of albums, he continued to score with hit singles, including material as good as 'Rocket Man'. Much of the early 1970s was about finding the next Beatles, and Elton John was as close as it came. He was reliable for a hit single every six months, and he had serious crossover appeal, even sometimes hitting the R & B charts.



Like Donovan before him, Elton surrounded himself with a team that helped him succeed. Producer Gus Dudgeon and arranger Paul Buckmaster worked with him for years, and the level of excellent production remained extremely high. There was also an very good band, road tested and ready to play. With all the pieces in place, it was time for Elton to go create his masterpiece.



'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' was the album, a double naturally, and it delivered in spades. Having the sheer balls to start off with a five minute instrumental sounding straight off an Emerson Lake & Palmer record, only to go straight into 'Love Lies Bleeding', this is an artist, his band, and the production crew at the peak of their game. Not only ready with the ballad, but able to rock hard with the best of them on 'Saturday's All Right (For Fighting)', the double album may have the best overall ratio of great songs and big hits of any ever created.



It helps that Elton and Bernie go through a lot of different styles on the album. From the jerky live rhythm of 'Bennie and the Jets' to the expansive balled of 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' to the faux Reggae of 'Jamaican Jerk Off' to the old style pop of 'Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock & Roll)', every song was strong and radio ready. It was impressive just for the sheer volume of quality material the duo could pour forth.



It was a mammoth success and Elton found himself on the same stadium tour schedule as Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, and the Who. It was a mixed blessing, putting him at top of the heap but making him act the clown more and more. Unlike, say, Freddie Mercury of Queen or Bono of U2, Elton had trouble being that big while keeping the quality high. The chart success started to slip, the hair transplant didn't take, and Elton took to changing his sexual orientation frequently.



Ultimately he weathered the storms, his talent too big to stay strictly in music. Elton and Bernie found huge success in creating music for movies, becoming part of the Disney machine. Elton never took himself too seriously, his most enduring trait, even sending himself up in 'Kingsmen; The Golden Circle'. He's won every award on the planet, and for once, he deserves every one of them.



Elton released another double album in 1978 after forming his own Rocket Records, 'Blue Moves'. It is highly rated by some, but the music business was starting to turn away from him. It had been a magnificent run, all by himself. Eight years, countless singles, a bunch of number one albums, many debuting that way on the charts. With punk, ears turned elsewhere. Elton found ways to keep busy.



He is universally liked, most especially for his AIDS charity work, where he has been the world leader for decades in funding a fight against the disease. A song from 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road', 'Candle in the Wind', gained a second life in the 1997 as the unofficial anthem for Princess Diana after her tragic death. Elton and Diana had been close personal friends, and he was asked to sing it at her funeral by the Royal Family. It became the fastest selling single in history, selling an astounding 33 million copies in a matter of weeks.



Elton John recently announced the beginning of his last concert tour. He deserves a rest. No other artist anywhere has creates so much for so long at such a high caliber and standard of quality. Gay or straight, bald or hairy, fat or skinny, talent is supposed to win out in the end. In this one case, it most certainly did.





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