Joe Boyd isn’t the most recognizable
name in music to most people, yet he was responsible for some of the
most important psychedelic folk music of the 1960s including Nick Drake, Shirley Collins, The Incredible String Band and Fairport Convention. In Boyd’s charming and
entertaining memoir White Bicycles, first published in 2006,
he recounts his years as a producer and tour manager to many of these musical acts. The book not only offers keen insights into some
of those unusual pop artists, it's also rich in anecdotal stories that illuminate the period. Boyd was born in Princeton, New
Jersey to a middle-class family. As he reports, “When I was a
eleven, we became the last family on our street…to get a TV set…in
the autumn of 1954 my brother Warwick and I discovered the real
reason we needed it: Bob Horn’s WFIL-TV Bandstand [that] beamed out
of Philadelphia every afternoon after school.” The charisma of Horn
as host and the vintage r&b and early rock ‘n roll to which
Boyd was exposed via the daily high school dance program, changed his
life.
Besides being inspired by
a TV show, later hosted by Dick Clark, there was also a familial connection. His
grandmother, Mary Boxall Boyd, was a concert pianist who taught him
piano as a child. But Boyd preferred to place himself under the instrument and
listen to his grandmother play Mozart. “I would sit under her grand
piano while she practiced. She viewed me as a soul mate…I took
lessons from her until I was thirteen, but never thought of myself as
a musician. Listening…became a part of my being.” In his final
push to a becoming a “producer”, Boyd read the exploits of Ralph
Peer, a field-recording producer who was the first person to
document blues and country artists for OKeh Records in the 1920s. Boyd goes on to describe his times
during his Harvard University days booking Lonnie Johnson for a rare
campus gig that launched the bluesman’s career in 1962 to a new
audience. It was his love of rural blues music that put Boyd in the
forefront of bringing white audiences in touch with virtually
forgotten musicians such as, Sleepy John Estes, the Rev. Gary Davis
and Doc Watson. As a concert producer and promoter, Boyd’s
assertive personality eventually put him into the recording studio.
But he spent most of youth travelling the southern U.S. with a major
stop in New Orleans. Boyd writes, “As jazz moved from swing towards
bebop in the late ‘30s, a group of white fanatics set about
rescuing traditional New Orleans jazz from obscurity, much as we were
trying to do blues…as the fashion shifts and the beat changes, the
intellectuals and wallflowers who have admired the music’s vitality
and originality move in to preserve or resurrect the form.” Such
was the case in New Orleans, demonstrated by Alan and Sandy Jaffe who
established Preservation Hall, and its world famous Jazz Band.
Nick Drake |
But when Drake suddenly died in 1974, Boyd questions the official version as to how. “The coroner’s inquest returned a verdict
of suicide, but I wasn’t convinced. The anti-depressants Nick had
been taking were different from modern drugs; doses were far stronger
and the side effects only beginning to be understood. Nick’s
parents said he was very positive in the weeks before his death…but
the drugs have been known to cause patients to roller coaster. I
prefer to imagine Nick making a desperate lunge for life rather than
a calculated surrender to death.” Most of Drake's fans, which later grew into something of a cult following, initially discovered his music (according to Boyd) through a Volkswagen commercial. Part of Drake's posthumous success, however, was due to Boyd’s astute move
to ensure that his albums never went out of print. So when he sold
his company Witchseason to Island Records, owner Chris Blackwell kept Drake from falling into obscurity. This past spring, Boyd produced a
beautiful tribute concert and recording called Way
to Blue: the songs of Nick Drake.
White Bicycles is essential
reading for anyone interested in a personal account of Sixties music history because it's told without the usual nostalgia and name-dropping that recent music
autobiographies have indulged in. Boyd’s memories reflect on a decade that had “an atmosphere in which music flourished [that] had
a lot to do with economics. It was a time of unprecedented
prosperity…in the Sixties we had surpluses of both money and time.” To Boyd those two important ingredients
are lacking today, “People are supposedly wealthier now, yet most
feel they haven’t enough money and time is at an even greater
premium. The prediction that our biggest dilemma in the new
millennium would be how to use the endless hours of leisure time
freed up by computers has proven to be futurology’s least amusing
joke.”
Joe Boyd |
White Bicycles is quite an enjoyable
read because Boyd tells his side of the story with the sentimentality undercut by his sardonic humour. As he rightfully boasts at the end “I
cheated, I never got too stoned. I became the eminence grise I
aspired to be, and disproved at least one Sixties myth: I was
there, and I do remember.” [Author’s emphasis] After
reading Boyd’s highly enlightening memoir, I don’t for a second doubt him.
For a complete list of music
references, visit Joe
Boyd’s youtube channel to hear the “soundtrack” to the
book.
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