From a live demo recorded by Kendell in Chicago in 1976 comes this beautiful track, “Buzzy and Jimmy.” There’s no telling how many albums’ worth of quality material the man has socked away.

Thanks, by the way, to BYM visitor Chris who points out that some of Kendell’s songs can be heard on albums by Jim Post (formerly of Friend and Lover), Redhead, and folk duo Reilly and Maloney.

Kendell Kardt – “Buzzy and Jimmy” (demo, 1976)

posted by Kim Simpson

Finland’s finest doing a live number from their ass-kicking Roadrunner album. Their first album came out in 1973 and pumped out loads of amped-up fifties-isms sung in simulated English, which is often the best kind. This is perhaps where Finland’s rockabilly revival really took off and, to this day, has never touched ground.

More prime Americana from Kendell Kardt’s unreleased 1971 Buddy Bolden LP. This is a sweet slice of Old California that features the fiddle of Bay area bluegrass stalwart Ed Neff. Kendell refers to “Mr. White’s Song” as his “tribute to Gene Autry.” Mr. White, incidentally, is a former police chief of San Anselmo who’d built the Bay area house Kendell was living in while recording the Buddy Bolden album. Kendell liked the house so much that he located Mr. White in a retirement home after which the two developed a friendship. It’s a song that anyone from Neil Young to Mr. Autry himself would have been proud to have in his catalog. (Postcard freaks: The above says “Beautiful Foot Hills, Santa Clara County, Ca.)

Kendell Kardt – “Mr. White’s Song”

Here’s another track from Kendell Kardt’s unreleased 1971 solo LP, Buddy Bolden. It’s called “Black Train,” and it features Jerry Garcia on pedal steel as well as Ronnie Montrose on lead guitar and Hawaiian lap steel. Kendell wrote the song with Rig guitarist Artie Richards for a friend of Richards who had recently overdosed on heroin. (A pretty different version of this song, by the way, appears on the 1975 Warner Brothers Presents…Montrose LP.) Grim subtext aside, the song really smokes. So give it a listen and stay tuned – there’s likely more on the way. [Update: “Black Train” officially had three writers, as Richards has pointed out in the comments – Richards, Kardt, and Matt Fried.]

Kendell Kardt – “Black Train”

Dee Dee Phelps, one half of sixties pop duo Dick and Dee Dee, just put out this memoir, Vinyl Highway, and it’s a lot of fun, especially if you’re interested in those oddball post-Army Elvis/pre-Beatles years. (And the cover is pretty impossible to resist.) You can read my Pop Matters review of it here. Phelps got the book going through a series of writing workshops and I’m glad she did.

Here’s a little cross referencing fun I don’t include in my review: On pages 267-272, the chapter called “Band Attack,” she reports on an incident at the happening LA folk rock club The Trip in which loose cannon Dick St. John explodes at the hipster back up band just before going on stage with them, for not appearing to treat him with proper respect. The performance is awful – Dick and Dee Dee are singing off key and Dee Dee sees the guitarists snickering out of the corner of her eye. She realizes the group has probably retaliated by tuning up a half step, while Dick, after the set, blames it all on her.

Jump over to Love drummer Michael Stuart-Ware’s 2003 memoir Behind the Scenes on the Pegasus Carousel, on pages 24-25. He’s talking about a gig at the Cinnamon Cinder, where he’d been playing regularly with the Sons of Adam (featuring guitarist Randy Holden). Dick and Dee Dee arrive just before the gig, tension’s in the air, and all throughout the disastrous set, Dick says things to the audience like “Jeez, this band is crappy, isn’t it?” and how big stars like him sometimes have to put up with crap like that.

The back story to this gig, according to Stuart-Ware, was that Dick had previously attempted to groom the Sons of Adam in his image, recording some demos and adding his own unique voice into the mix. He was furious when they finally begged off, so when Dick and the band were unexpectedly reunited by a promoter, Dick got his revenge, Stuart-Ware implies, by berating the band on stage and trying to make them look like inexperienced schlubs. Dee Dee mentions in her book that Dick (strictly a business partner) was always up to music biz stuff she didn’t know about, so maybe this was yet another example of that. Was it the same gig? Although each of their anecdotes take place at different venues, my hunch still leans towards yes.

[Update: Thanks to Dee Dee for setting my idle speculation to rest (see comments) – sounds like these were different gigs altogether – and for giving us a heads up on Dick Peterson’s Kingsmen memoir, Louie Louie, which has another account of St. John’s adventures.]

Not long ago I wrote here about Rig, a country rock early seventies outfit I’d gotten curious about. Their only LP – long out of print – was released by Capitol in 1970 and had Elliott Mazer as a co-producer. I’d been especially intrigued by songwriter Kendell Kardt, whose preoccupation with old Americana subjects, as well as his memorable and playful treatment of them, gave the Rig album so much of its personality. After tracking down Kardt in New Jersey, I found out that shortly after Rig unraveled in 1971, he’d gone to San Francisco to record an entire solo LP for Capitol, which featured the helping hands of members of the Grateful Dead and New Riders of the Purple Sage, among others. Due primarily to shakeups in the A&R dept., the finished album – which was to be named after Buddy Bolden, the early 20th century New Orleans jazz icon – was shelved and Kardt’s recording career never really recovered.

When I heard about this, I realized I’d just tripped over another one of those Great Lost LPs that might have made a significant contribution to its era but instead languished in the vaults thanks to music biz shenanigans. I’m really hoping that the album can one day be heard the way Kardt intended it to be. It’ll take a certain bit of legal wrangling to get it properly released, although it’s nothing any moderately well-functioning label wouldn’t be able to handle rather effortlessly. So here’s hoping. The happy news, though, is that Kardt has given me permission to post the album’s terrific title track, never issued anywhere, right here. Sounding like something that would have fit in snugly on any of the early Jesse Winchester or Delaney and Bonnie albums (the female voices, by the way, belong to Barbara Mauritz of Lamb and Pamela Polland of the Gentle Soul), it also glows with the same unique personality you can hear on Kardt’s Rig tracks. “Buddy Bolden” makes a pretty clear case for why the album finally needs to be heard. Give it a listen and see what I’m talking about.

Kendell Kardt – “Buddy Bolden” (1971)

posted by Kim Simpson

For me, Joe Bonomo’s Sweat – an indepth history of the chronically underappreciated Fleshtones – was one of the happiest book events of ‘07 (it came out last September). You can read my extended rave about it over at Pop Matters.

I’m feeling so much love for the Fleshtones these days. First of all, I just finished and thoroughly dug Sweat: The Story of the Fleshtones, America’s Garage Band, the new book by Dr. Joe Bonomo, which is an unthinkably generous reward for fans like me who’d resigned themselves to reading about the group in short takes. Let’s hope it makes whole legions of new fans. [Update: see my review at Pop Matters.]

(By the way, Google Joe Bonomo and see what comes up first – a tribute to a mid-century strongman written by Norton Records’ Miriam Linna. She’s an early Fleshtones booster/pal who appears in the book and I can’t help but think Bonomo’s name was an asset of sorts early in the game.)

Second of all, the guys have gone and released one of their best records ever. This is a big statement from me because I love all their records. I’m one of those evidently all too rare faithful who’s been snatching up new Fleshtones releases hot off the press since I hopped onto the Super Rock Express in ’84. And I’m all too apt to assess a new release as “another great one!” But this one is just so especially pleasing to me for the following big 12 reasons:

1 – It’s a forceful, “any questions?” supplement to the new attention they’ll be getting from the book and forthcoming (rumor has it) movie documentary.

2 – It’s co-produced to stunningly straight-ahead effect by Ivan Julian, who’s been working the musical trenches of NYC as far back as his days as one of Richard Hell’s Voidoids.

3 – It’s a thirty-minute riot that leaves you wanting more.

4 – Not that genius titles are anything new for this group, but it’s got a song called “Shiney Hiney.”

5 – It contains guitarist Keith Streng’s best ever vocal performance, which happens to be the aforementioned selection.

6 – The songs are all original. Not that I really care, because one of my all-time favorite records of theirs is the all-covers Fleshtones Favorites. But for a group whose songwriting chops never get the same credit as their live shows or even their reputations as cover artists extraordinaire (just like Elvis), this is well worth pointing out.

7 – Not only are the songs all original, but Keith, singer Peter Zaremba, and bassist Ken Fox all pitch in as songwriters.

8 – The album title is taken from a favorite catchphrase of the late Fleshtones sax man, Gordon Spaeth.

9 – “First Date” channels the Dave Clark Five doing “I Like it Like That.”

10 – The last song on the album, which is the title track, features Peter losing his mind, fading off with shouts and yells into the strait-jacketed realm of Napoleon XIV. (It sounds riveting, but let’s hope he’s just kidding around.)

11 – In this same song, Peter lays it on the “frowning think-they’re-so-cools,” the would-be hipsters of the “tattoo covered, goateed, sock-cap wearing” ilk. If these really are the folks who’ve been standing in the group’s way all these years, then we should share Peter’s disdain. (Word of warning to those of you who have the album cued up in the family station wagon: Peter lets an exasperated F bomb fly here. But that shouldn’t stop you from appreciating them as essentially a family band.)

12 – They sing about going “back to school” – a pretty funny joke for guys who’ve been busy doing all the schooling for over thirty years now.

So if I haven’t made it clear yet, the Great ’08 Album of the Year sweepstakes are a wrap, folks. Your Arcade Fishermen and Animal Collectors can release an album per month if they want, but it’s purely academic from here on out.

Now go on and get it.

posted by Kim Simpson

You can get The Point on DVD now, and if you grew up in the seventies, you’ll probably find watching it to be a cozy experience. It’s got animation by Fred Wolf (the same man who did, among other things, Free to Be You and Me as well as Tony the Tiger and Jolly Green Giant ads), music by Harry Nilsson (the whole thing was his idea in the first place), narration by Ringo Starr, and little Bobby Brady (Mike Lookinland) as Oblio. What especially hit the spot this time around was the Rock Man scene (a giant stone mountain with mouth and eyes), in which some ace mimic invokes the long departed voice of Lord Buckley.

The Rock Man sets it straight, from The Point

Rig – Rig (1970)

Not long ago I found this album by a group called Rig at an east Texas thrift shop – I saw it was a Capitol release and recognized the name of Elliott Mazer (of Neil Young’s Harvest fame) who was listed as a co-producer. It had obviously been listened to many times over, and because I’m instantly drawn to mysterious records that appear to have served some kind of purpose to someone, I took it home.

What I heard was an appealing batch of early seventies Americana-rock songs dressed in piano and pedal steel and featuring lyrics that placed the album (released in 1970) right in step with an era that also gave us Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection, The Band LP, and Jesse Winchester’s debut. I especially responded to the songwriting of pianist/vocalist Kendell Kardt. At once evocative and playful, his songs had a way of sticking in my head. My favorite is “Have a Cigar” (give it a listen at the end of this post) which opens up the album and zeroes in on cigar-smoking as a time-honored ritual accompanying the act of conquest. You can take it literally or figuratively – it pleases either way, and musically, it’s got a latin-tinged instrumental refrain that’s hard not to love.

My curiosity got the best of me, so through a bit of sleuthing and good luck, I was able to get in touch with Kardt, who’s currently working as a professional pianist in the New Jersey/New York area (when we first talked on the phone he was driving to his regular rehearsal gig with the New Jersey Ballet Company). He was gracious enough to field my questions, and here are some of the things I found out: The group’s deal with Capitol happened after a label scout caught them at New York’s legendary Electric Circus. This happy turn of events got them into the good graces of promoter Bill Graham and landed them high profile spots at Fillmore East. The group’s core lineup at this point was Kardt, guitarist Artie Richards, and bassist Don Kerr (who wrote the album’s beautiful closer, “Last Time Around”). With its eye-catching cover art featuring the trio’s profiles, the final product has the look and feel of a true group effort.

But this “group” aspect was as much of a “too many cooks” hindrance as it was a help, Kardt feels, because the band members and producers weren’t able to agree on a unifying purpose during the recording sessions. A shame, he says, because the group did have a true essence that never translated over onto tape. And the label’s own vision of how Rig should sound hardly made things any easier. “Internal friction is finally what caused the band to fall apart,” says Kardt, who was presented with the option of working on a second Rig album with a line up of his own choosing, or going off on his own to make a solo album. He didn’t feel it was fair to appropriate the group’s name, so he chose the latter. (Kardt, incidentally, is still in touch with Richards, although neither of them have been able to locate Kerr.)

Capitol, then, recognizing Kardt’s own prolific songwriting talent as an asset, flew him to California to record a new set of songs as a solo album. Having access to members of the Grateful Dead and New Riders of the Purple Sage, Kardt was able to enlist their help and finished up the album to his liking. But in classic music biz fashion, particularly in the volatile early 70s, personnel changes and priority shifts led to the album’s unceremonious shelving. “It was that common situation where the artist is trying to accomplish something, but the business pressure makes it almost impossible,” he says.

By the early 80s, Kardt quit working as a solo performing songwriter in favor of the workhorse piano gigs he’s taking to this day. But ever the artist, Kardt does continue writing and recording in his home studio, even though he feels, as most any artist would, that “it really helps to get even the smallest sense that someone’s listening.” So add Kendell Kart’s LP to your list of Great Lost Albums to keep an eye out for, and let’s hope that that – along with other unreleased material from both his past and present – will see the light of day sometime soon. I, for one, will be listening.

(I’m posting two versions of “Have a Cigar” here. The first one is taken directly from the Rig LP, but the second one is a later demo version I’ve received from Kendell and which he’s given me permission to post. It’s a live take from 1971 that he recorded as a publishing demo for some of the artists Bill Graham was managing. I really love its spontaneous, energetic vibe. He was a solo artist at this point, so you can get a sense of how his other work might have sounded.)

Rig – “Have a Cigar” (1970)

Kendell Kardt – “Have a Cigar (demo) (1971)

posted by Kim Simpson