LOVE’S LABORER LOST (AND FOUND)


BY MARK NORRIS

Music history has rarely seen the combination of artistic heights and commercial depths achieved by 1960s Los Angeles gurus Love. Fronted by songwriter Arthur Lee, the members formed one of the first racially mixed rock bands of the time while creating a music that was similarly hybridized.

Alternately lush and furious, the first three albums of Love’s career left an imprint on music fans and emerging musicians that far outweighed the rather modest sales of their initial release.

Since the 1968 release of the band’s magnum opus – and swansong for the original line-up – Forever Changes, Love has consistently been cited by a range of notable sources. On his most recent tour, Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant paid homage to the group by performing not one, but three, of Love’s lesser known cuts, while music critics have consistently named the album one of the top recordings of all time.

Despite the fact that Love is now included at the top of such lists, the group garnered little international or even national attention in its lifetime. Outside of the Sunset Strip in L.A., few music listeners were fully able to appreciate the glory of this magnificent group.

With the advent of CDs, and the money making bonanza that is CD reissues, the band has finally achieved some of the public accolades it so sadly missed during its existence. Forever Changes was recently re-released on CD, in newly remastered form, on Rhino Records. With a wealth of liner notes, photos and bonus tracks, the disc serves as a veritable holy grail for fans.

Sadly, for the original members of Love, such attention proves too little, too late. Lee is currently midway through a prison sentence that has seen the gifted songwriter spend the last five years behind bars, away from the studio and concert stage. In the past few years, both Love rhythm guitarist/composer Bryan McLean and bass player Ken Forssi passed away.

Until recently, the public had also lost touch with drummer Michael Stuart-Ware. With the release of his new memoir, Pegasus Carousel, (available at www.pegasuscarousel.com). Love fans finally have a chance to catch up with the drummer and glean a behind the scenes look at the tumultuous goings-on of the incongruously named band.

Pegasus Carousel is well-written, clearly-told and simply engaging. In contrast to many rock biographies, Stuart-Ware eschews the “tell all” gossip that fills so many pages, (and usually helps sell copies) in favor of an honest take on the history and circumstances of an ill-fated band. Blue Dog Press recently spoke with Stuart–Ware in an exclusive e-mail interview.

How did you come by the decision to write this book now?

In August of ‘98, Kevin Delaney interviewed me in L.A., for a book he was writing on the group. We spent a day together and hung out with Bryan for a while. I drove Kevin up into Laurel Canyon and Beechwood and showed him the houses we used to live in. I told him a lot of stories. He had a tape recorder going the whole time and, knowing Kevin, I bet he still has the tapes up on a closet shelf someplace. Kevin’s a very intelligent guy and a talented writer, so his book would have been dynamite. But a few months after the interview, he e-mailed me that he was abandoning the project because he couldn’t find a publisher. Funny thing is, the day of the interview, as we drove around, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Well, hey, man, if this dude wasn’t writing the book, I could probably do it.’ So, after I got the e-mail, I said to myself, ‘O.K., here we go.’ But later, after I finished my version, I discovered why Kevin decided to move on to other things. Getting rejection slips from publishing companies is a very humbling, discouraging experience. I only sent out around ten queries and nobody was even interested in looking at it. The deal is, they don’t want to waste their time fooling with something that hasn’t been submitted by an agent. The companies depend on the agents to screen out all the bad stuff or make the writers “fine-tune” the material first, before they condescend to touch it. It has to be cleansed, you know. The publishing companies handle offers of submission by first-time writers like you’re offering to send ‘em a turd. They don’t want any part of it. Frankly, I’m not surprised. I’ve been told that most publishers have even lost money on books written about mainstream groups, and Love was just an underground group with a cult following. A lot of music fans never heard of us, and publishing companies are not in the habit of taking chances.

Anyway, that’s why I wrote the book; because Kevin didn’t.

I found the book to be extremely well-written. Did you find yourself agonizing over every word, or did the writing flow naturally?

I’ve always remembered an almost unending series of picture and word vignettes from that period. Facial expressions and conversations, tone of voice and emotions…everything. The challenge was to put them down in sequential order. At first, it was slow going, but the more I wrote, the more sequentially I remembered the story. Pretty soon, I was spewing it out. Still, it took almost three years to complete, stop and go. I didn’t do much agonizing, but I’m certain some people that read it will feel I should have done more agonizing and less spewing. Whatever. I did the best I could with the time I had to do it.

Do you feel insulted by the fact that you were not consulted for that compilation (or the recently released Forever Changes remaster) or other Love reissues?

No, I don’t feel insulted at all. Nobody in the recording industry even knew I was still alive, much less how to contact me, until I wrote Pegasus Carousel. Besides, I was just the drummer. Well, actually I wasn’t just the drummer. I sang equal three-part with Arthur and Bryan on “Alone Again, Or” and I did vocal work on “The Red Telephone,” and “Laughing Stock,” as well, for what it’s worth.

I was also very surprised to read about your negative feelings concerning the recording quality of Forever Changes. Does the fact that the album is so highly regarded by fans and critics give you any sense of comfort or closure on the recordings?

Oh, yeah! I mean, this is a country where the majority rules. If everybody but me says that Forever Changes is a great album, then it must be great. I could never be the lone holdout on a jury. Eleven ‘Innocent’ and only one ‘Guilty?’ Hey, O.K., I change my vote. No problem. Whatever everybody else says is fine with me. Anyway, I started to feel a little bit better about the whole thing one day a few months after the album was released, when I ran into Snoopy [Pfisterer, original Love drummer, Ed.] at the house of a common friend and he walked right over and shook my hand and told me that Forever Changes was one of the best albums he had ever heard. Because Snoopy was a damned fine musician and extremely critical, and he had absolutely no reason to say anything good about it, him having been unceremoniously kicked out of the group just before we recorded it, and all. But he also knew how to put you on, so I kept waiting for him to break up and walk away shaking his head and leave me standing there with egg on my face, while he and everybody else in the room had a good laugh at Love’s expense. But he didn’t. And then, about ten years ago, my brother-in-law, Bobby Covic (a hell of a fine ex-rock drummer) started sending me articles from industry publications that described Forever Changes in glowing terms. But even today, it doesn’t seem real. I guess I was too close to it.

Despite all the turmoil surrounding the band at the time, were you aware of the magnitude of the album while you were recording it? Did the album feel special at the time, or more like business as usual?

We were simply focused on doing the best job we could to turn out a respectable product. We were bearing down. In hindsight, it probably would have helped us find the proper emotional groove for those songs if we had had the opportunity to play them in a concert or club setting a few times before we went into the studio. We were so unfamiliar with the material that an awful lot of what could have been funneled into creative energy was wasted on remembering what we were supposed to do and trying real hard not to mess up. At this point, I finally recognize the fact that all the good things that the critics and the fans say and write about the album must be true. Arthur and Bryan wrote stuff the likes of which the world had never heard before and has not been duplicated since. The word, ‘timeless’ is used quite often to describe Forever Changes. I guess that’s why it didn’t meet with wider acceptance after it was released. It was so far ahead of its time that it only began to achieve recognition when it was compared to what came after. Myself? Once every blue moon, when I’m all alone, I turn off the lights and I cue up Forever Changes, and I lean back and close my eyes, and I feel transported. Transported to a place approximately 450 miles southeast, and off the coast of Halifax, Nova Scotia. It’s twelve years after the turn of the last century and I’m clinging with all my might to the well-polished brass railing that surrounds the now almost vertical deck of the world’s largest luxury liner. It’s going down fast by the bow and I know in a few short moments, I’ll lose my hold and I’ll slip, and I’ll take the long plunge to splashdown. Soon, my lungs will fill with ice-cold sea water and I’ll join my shipmates, whose gun metal-grey eyes already stare up at the starlit night sky and whose lifeless bodies litter the surface of this small corner of the North Atlantic like so many Dixie Cups. In other words, I can’t listen to it. It makes me sweat and have bad thoughts. I only hear the mistakes. I’m glad you guys like it, though. Real glad.  

It seems that you are very much at peace with the past. Did you find the writing of this book therapeutic? Did you find it conjured up memories you wish to have left behind?

I have a good memory. Writing Pegasus Carousel didn’t really add to or increase the intensity of the memories I carry with me, neither the good nor the bad. I remember it all like it was last week. Yeah, it was therapeutic. Like Ann Landers says, ‘If you want to make yourself feel better, just write a letter, get everything off your chest, then tear it up and throw it away.’ I say, ‘What good is that gonna do?’ I went ahead and mailed it. But the most therapeutic part of this whole experience is the feedback I’ve gotten from some of the people who have read the book. Like a kid named Jason, who e-mailed me yesterday. He wrote, “This book should be read by all young bands who would like to know the ins and outs of making it and not making it in music...If this book helps one person stay away from drugs, (as it will me!) then your work will have been worthwhile.’ A few weeks ago, I heard from my old Sons of Adam bandmate, Randy Holden [Stuart-Ware was the Sons of Adam drummer, previous to joining Love. – Ed]. He sent me up four of his recently recorded CDs. He’s incredible. Better than ever. We’re gonna’ get together and jam next month. Then, a few days ago, Johnny Echols [Love lead guitarist. – Ed] e-mailed me. He’s cruising. Everybody’s happy. I don’t care what happens now. You know all that stuff I wrote about old people looking funny playing rock-and-roll? Throw that out. Forget it. We’re planning a comeback. The name of the group will be, The Old Dudes On The Block and we’re gonna kick some ass. Those young whippersnapper bands can’t compete with us. We’re too mean. Watch out, damnit! Anybody that gets in our way might get hurt, I’m serious. I better stop now, I’m starting to not make sense...




©2001 Blue Dog Press | Published July 27, 2001


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