The Immediate Family, like many bands during the turbulent Sixties, probably could have had at least a modicum of success, if only the stars had aligned. They had a lot of things going for them: industry connections, eclectic tastes (one of their early demos was a cover of a José Feliciano tune), professional management, and plenty of studio time.
It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. The band was very active, gigging throughout the East Bay and central California. They competed in band battles. They played on the same bill with such luminaries as Love and Them, and even opened for the Doors at the Fillmore (as their audition – sadly, they didn’t make it).
But their attempt at recording at the best studio in the Bay Area – Golden State Recorders – went awry. The Immediate Family released no material during their lifespan (and it’s not exactly easy to find after the fact, either – I’ve only been able to locate one track on the interweb).
And that’s too bad, because the band proffered an interesting brand of psychedelia, from what I’ve been able to hear (one track). “Rubiyat“, is proof positive of the exciting changes that rock music was going through in the Sixties.
In the Nuggets booklet, Alec Palao compares “Rubiyat” to the sound that Pink Floyd was developing overseas in England (the Floydsters were recording their debut album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, at about the same time the Immediate Family were in the studio).
To me, the sound of the Immediate Family on “Rubiyat” is not as overtly psychedelic as the sound of early Pink Floyd. There are no audio gimmicks, no trippy Barrett-esque lyrics, no unconventional chord changes, no paeans to astronomy or space, no whimsical childlike melodies. If anything, it sounds even more modern than that.
With its cascading, baroque-tinged organ solo, “Rubiyat” presages the progressive rock movement, or the heavy psychedelia that would be developed in 1968-69. It even brings to mind Santana‘s album Caravanserai, which shares a Middle Eastern theme.
At any rate, it’s cool to think of a bunch of East Bay kids, scarcely out of high school, setting the words of Omar Khayyam to music in one of San Francisco’s premier recording studios, boldly stepping into a brave new world where you could not only use twelfth-century Middle Eastern poetry as song lyrics, but were encouraged to do so.
That, to me, is the true spirit of Sixties music, and why the Nuggets collections are so fascinating. Where else are you going to hear stuff like this?
The History
Like so many other bands that formed in America in the mid-Sixties, the Immediate Family was formed in the wake of the arrival of an irresistible force, which swept into New York in February of 1964 – four young men in collarless suits from a mysterious land known as “Liverpool.” No, it wasn’t Gerry and the Pacemakers.
Inspired by the Beatles (who they undoubtedly saw on The Ed Sullivan Show), guitarist/vocalist Tim Barnes and Terry Davis, a bassist whom Barnes had met in high school, got together and began jamming.
The duo recruited Kriss Kovacs, who played keyboards and contributed the lion’s share of the songwriting. With the addition of Mike Mau on drums (later replaced by Dave Brown), and a succession of “dangerous” names (de rigueur for any garage band in 1965 – first they were the Nomads, then the Mongrels), the lineup was complete.
Later, Mike Hamm would join on bass, which freed up Davis to play rhythm guitar.
Kriss’ father, former pro tennis player Frank Kovacs, had a luxurious house in Berkeley, which provided the band with a lavish practice space. But it was Frank Kovacs’ wife, Judy Davis, who gave the group their first big break.
Davis, the “voice coach to the stars” (as she called herself), introduced the band to Frank Werber of Trident Productions, who provided the fledgling band with studio time to record demos.
Werber introduced them to John Stewart of the famous Kingston Trio, who were being displaced in popularity by the new folk-rock and British bands. Stewart began working with the Mongrels, teaching them his songs and influencing their style. He also suggested they change their name to something less juvenile – the Immediate Family.
With a new name, and some famous (and well-connected) patrons, the newly-christened Immediate Family began gigging and recording demos. It seemed that the wind was at their backs, and subsequently Judy Davis introduced them to Leo De Gar Kulka, president of Golden State Recorders, who signed the band.
Sadly, despite interest from Tower Records (who, incidentally, had the rights to the U.S. distribution of Pink Floyd), and Liberty Records, the sessions at Golden State broke down, and nothing was released.
It’s unclear why the studio sessions fell apart. According to bandleader Barnes, the band was just not ready – according to Alec Palao, Kriss Kovacs (who wrote “Rubiyat”), couldn’t handle the stress of hashing out a record deal.
Kulka didn’t give up on the band. He suggested a name change (to the Yellow Brick Road). The newly christened group recorded another original, but according to Barnes, “the music scene was starting to wind down.” The Yellow Brick Road called it quits.
The Immediate Family members (sans Hamm) would regroup a year later, calling themselves the Fox. Alas, despite their foxy new moniker (and radio airplay of their demos), the Fox saw no action. In 1970, guitarist Barnes and original drummer Mike Mau formed Stoneground – who, incidentally, featured Sal Valentino, formerly of the Beau Brummels!
The Song: Rubiyat
Written by Kriss Kovacs and Omar Khayyam
Recorded in San Francisco, CA (March 1967)
Originally unissued: first collected on What A Way To Come Down, Big Beat [UK] #173 (August 1997)
Personnel:
Tim Barnes – lead vocals, lead guitar
Terry Davis – rhythm guitar, backing vocals
Kriss Kovacs – Hammond organ, piano, backing vocals
Mike Hamm – bass
Mike Mau or Dave Brown – drums
with:
Unknown – tambourine
Produced by Larry Goldberg & Leo De Gar Kulka
Note: It’s unclear when Dave Brown replaced Mike Mau on drums.
I have decided to do song summaries from now on for each song, because they’re fun 🙂
The song begins with a layered introduction. The lead guitar plays a descending figure, the rhythm guitar comes in with a counter-melody, and then the bass jumps in with yet another counter-melody! Cool shit, man. Kovacs’ organ comes in after this in the background.
The three singers (lead and backing) sing in unison, creating a chantlike feel. It’s easy to imagine yourself on some sort of caravan journey across the desert, or around a campfire, surrounded by chanting, robed figures, hashish smoke drifting up in curls. I won’t reproduce the lyrics, but you can find them here. (They’re beautiful, you should read them.)
Then, major chords! The organ swells, and for a second it seems that the song is going to modulate to a major key. But it’s a mirage, not an oasis, and soon we’re back to minor-key droning.
The major chords occur again, and then the music lifts for an organ solo. The solo is intricate, Bach-inspired, and unlike anything else on this compilation.
After the solo, the band repeats the lines they sang previously, and the song gradually fades.
In just two minutes and thirty-four seconds, the Immediate Family take you on a trip through ancient Persia. To say this was completely groundbreaking for 1967 is to understate the matter immensely. However, I cannot give this song the full A+. It feels almost unfinished, like there was more to add (perhaps a guitar solo or some sort of atmospheric bridge), but the breakdown of the recording sessions probably prevented this from happening. Ah, what could have been!
Rating: A
Listen to the song here.