The Flower Furnace - Hitting My Musical Sweet Spot - Again

Light show and all, the Furnace rocks the Bistro

Today, I read a long article in the November 26, 2012 issue of the New Yorker on the music of the Grateful Dead. In Deadhead - The Afterlife, Nick Paumgarten recalls when he first discovered the band in the 1980s as a teenager. Describing his strong attachment to that period of the Dead's output, he says, "People say that the music you liked when you hit puberty is the stuff that sticks with you." He's so right.

That's why I love the Flower Furnace. Their music, ranging from 1965 to 1975, hits my sweet spot--and a little more. In 1965, I was 12, and glued to the radio, where I absorbed Motown, the British Invasion (led by the Beatles, Stones, Dave Clark 5, the Who) and the American hits by the Beach Boys, Four Seasons, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Paul Revere and the Raiders and many more.

I have what I consider a "phonographic memory" for songs from 1964 to 1968 (and maybe 1969 too)--my middle school and high school years. I know all the words and can nearly always sing along. It does help that I started playing the guitar in 1967 and was actually strumming some of these songs myself, but no other period of my life contains music that affects me this deeply.

Watching and listening to the band at the Bistro in Hayward, California (for the second time -- read my first post here) just reinforced this. How wonderful to be able to absorb the Jefferson Airplane's Somebody to Love -- the Furnace's opener-- LIVE! 1967 is the epicenter of that 60's musical earthquake that happened in San Francisco, and that song is about as emblematic of the way I felt then as it gets.

What about I am the Walrus--the band's finale? Not even the Beatles played that one live! And although the Fleetwood Mac, Peter Frampton and Kansas songs the Furnace knocks off so meticulously are not in my golden period, I owned those vinyl albums too. I just couldn't sing along quite as easily on Saturday.

The Bistro crowd responds to these songs, and cheers the musicians on. Three powerful sets delivered the goods. The show went 20 minutes past midnight, and I'm sure we would all have stayed another couple of hours if they had kept playing.

The Flower Furnace - Aptly Named

At another recent gig

I finally got a chance to see and hear The Flower Furnace last night at the Bistro in Hayward. They deliver what their name promises - beauty and heat. Their three sets mixed psychedelic radio hits from the mid 60s to the mid 70s in the kind of order that we grew up hearing on the radio.

The six-piece band gave some nods to the times,with brightly colored shirts, a bandanna, a top hat, a necklace or two, but there wasn't the long hair of the '60s. The band appears to be more interested in delivering a powerful live performance of songs than replicating the exact look. When you grew up hearing this material on your six-transistor AM radio, or on your record player in your bedroom, it comes to life on stage.

Lead vocalist Jojo Razor founded the group when she discovered the enthusiasm that people had for this music. She has assembled a skilled crew to back her up. She not only was in constant motion, but wandered around the club--even outside--while still  keeping a perfect connection through a long mike cord.

Right behind her stood Tim Walters, the perfect stoic bass presence. To my bass-player ears, he was spot on throughout the three sets, hitting just the right notes without any extraneous flourishes. I could feel the vibration in the floor through my feet. In the tradition of bass greats such as John Entwistle, he expressed little outward emotion, but I saw him smile sometimes in a way that showed he was enjoying himself.

Up front, the keyboardist, Andrea Hensler, did a fine job of conjuring up the right parts for works like the mellotron sound of the Moody Blues' Tuesday Afternoon and also the perfect oddball British police siren of the Beatles' I Am the Walrus--the band's encore and sendoff. She played interesting snippets between sets, including a piece of Booker T and the MG's Green Onions, Vince Guaraldi's Peanuts theme music and the theme from Cheers.

The two guitarists, John Fillipucci and Russell McDonald, manned the rear corners of the small stage. Both delivered some hot leads--from where I was sitting it was hard to tell from which one the sounds were originating. They had their parts down--with an occasional delicious variation--but never dominated. I did notice that although both had microphones, their backup vocals were not always easy to hear--and neither ever sang a lead vocal. I would have liked to hear more from them vocally, but the guitar work was rousing and obviously very well rehearsed. During a break, John told me how hard they work to make it sound as good as it does.

You need a solid set of drums for this kind of repertoire, and the band is lucky to have Scott Acridge. He was fun to watch, too, because he was animated when he played--and sat still--almost like a meditator, with his sticks folded--when waiting--before exploding into action. He gave one of the most enthusiastic dancers in the audience, Karen, a drumstick at the end of the show.

The challenge with this kind of band is to keep it interesting and moving. The three sets were nicely varied, and stayed mostly uptempo. They opened the first set with the James Gang's Walk Away, but before you knew it they were doing the great psychedelic classic, Too Much to Dream by the Electric Prunes (which surely epitomizes band names of that era). The crowd swooned when they neatly segued into Shapes by the Yardbirds. The set continued with classics like the Airplane's White Rabbit, where Jojo not only sounded like but also resembled the inimitable Grace Slick. Then they followed that with Jet--one of Wings' best works from a full seven years later. The group stays in their ten-year spread, but works the ends as well as the middle.

Yes, they actually played In-a-Gadda-da-Vida by Iron Butterfly (another great band name), but spared us the 20-something minute original length with its monster drum solo. A quick turn to Heart's Magic Man showed their versatility (and Jojo's vocal chops once again). I might have liked to hear one of the guitarists sing Iron Butterfly.

The second set opened with what may be the anthem of the entire 60's Psychedelic Scene--Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane. And the evening kept getting better and better from there. Bowie's Changes was a big switch--also well done. The list goes on. How about the Chambers Brothers Time? CSNY's Ohio? Peter Frampton's Show Me the Way?

I was completely satisfied when I heard some of my favorites, such as Itchicoo Park by the Small Faces and Piece of My Heart--belted out like Janis by Jojo.

If you love the music of the 60s--whether you're old enough to remember it or not--you MUST experience The Flower Furnace. See their website for details--and a list of their repertoire and upcoming gigs.

Note: If you're in the S.F. Bay Area, they play again on Sunday, September 9 at the Solano Stroll in Albany at 12, 2 and 4 p.m.

The Music Machine is Broken

I just learned on a tweet that Sean Bonniwell, the leader of the Music Machine, had died. The band's song, Talk Talk, was a hit in 1966. Bonniwell was 71, so that's not that unusual, but his band is one of those one-hit-wonders you hear about sometimes.

The Music Machine was local, more or less, for me, being in San Jose, California, but I never went and saw them. I just heard the song as I was starting high school. It had just the right psychedelic rock sound at the time and I remember it viscerally.

There surely will be more of these memorials as time marches on, but I'm taking a few minutes today to remember that song--and my 13-year-old ears that heard it.