"Crimp a carrot" has something to do with Susan Dey's overbite . . . was it one of Bonaduce's lines on The Partridge Family?
More importantly, does Susan Cowsill have the requisite orthodonture for crimping?
Doesn't matter, nor does the fact that I just realized that the person who inspired Laurie Partridge has the same first name as the actress who played her! What next? We'll discover that Bud Cowsill's real name was Reuben?
One of the liberating aspects of the 21st century (perhaps the only proof that irony is actually dead?) is that the ascendancy of The Nerd has had numerous spin-off benefits. Such as that formerly-leprously dorky music is now officially OK!
Unlike some other acts I could mention (*cough* The Osmonds *cough*), though, I never hid my Cowsills torch under a bushel basket. Their records were not among those I tossed under the couch when company came a'callin.'
And among those non-tossed Cowsills albums, their live one is a particular favorite.
In what strikes me as a bit of duh-speak, the CD liner notes for The Cowsills in Concert is like a microcosm of what made sixties' rock and roll unique.
Although the Cowsills inspired the Partridge Family, the actual family band's story was about as believable as Danny Bonaduce actually playing those Joe Osborn bass parts. In 1965, there was nothing unusual about a bunch of guys getting a band together to play frat parties. What could be more far-out, though, than a rock band made up of five brothers, their sister, and their mother? And Dad retiring from the Navy to manage the band!
Rock and roll was supposed to be about rebellion, about rejecting the older generation's "plastic trip," not cutting loose on some Cream jams with your mom. And certainly not about the very embodiment of the Establishment—Bud Cowsill, a retired military man—calling the shots on your career.
But what could be more representative of this most egalitarian era of rock than a bunch of kids who go from playing Beatles and Everly Brothers songs at school dances, to multiple gold records and immortality on TV Land?
The Concert album is certainly a product of its time. In those days, a major act like the Cowsills could put out an album of cover songs—the same set list as every garage bands in America—without it seeming too much like a contractual fulfillment. Or a joke.
Just how close the Cowsills still were to their rec-room/frat-party band roots, even with a couple of hits under their big wide belts, is evident in their set list.
Their versions of the Left Banke’s “Walk Away Renee,” the Mamas and Papas’ “Monday, Monday,” and the Beatles’ “Paperback Writer” are all credible, with vocal harmonies that rival the originals. Even the complexity of “Good Vibrations” doesn’t trip them up, although the lyrics seem to. Some of the lead vocal performances are especially choice, like John’s “high lonesome” sound on “Act Naturally” and Barry’s “Please Mr. Postman” sounding almost like Larry Collins tearing up “Whistle Bait.”
They don't hit every one outta the park, of course. Their take on “Reach Out, I’ll Be There” proves they were no Funk Brothers, and Mitch Ryder probably owes them an ass-kicking for what they do to his Detroit medley.
Nothing like faux-vaudeville to bring things to a grinding halt, and Susan's spotlight song, “Hello Hello,” truly grinds. (Sorry, Susan. On the OTOH, get her solo work, the Continental Drifters, and the Twilley albums she sings on. All terrif.)
And while “Sunshine of Your Love” isn't an embarrassment, it does demonstrate that poor John was no Ginger Baker.
For fan-pandering (or just baiting), MGM slapped the studio version of “Hair”—the Cowsill's biggest-ever hit—onto the l.p. It doesn't sound terribly out of place, with an extremely basic arrangement that sounds similar to the rest of the album. If Concert was a studio-produced cheat, there are no strings, no horns, no theremin (or tannerin, even) to give it away.
On the Cowsill.com site, Bob explains that the album was recorded on two nights in Cleveland, and cops to "some vocal augmentation" and says they "rounded out the rough edges," but never allowed that it was not, substantially, the document of a live performance.)
Three years after this album was recorded, I saw them perform. “Mini-Mom” Barb and Bill had left the band, they'd been dumped by MGM Records, and they were playing a county fair. For all that, they brought their “A” show — they could play. Whether or not the playing on Concert is all Cowsills—and it likely was not—it could have been. They were a legitimate rock and roll band.
The Cowsills in Concert is a souvenir of an age when a big-time act could release an album of covers like this without being ironic about it, and when anyone could get a record deal, have a hit, and be a rock star. Even a wholesome-looking group of kids. And their mom.
The Razor & Tie CD adds the four studio tracks that were known as "The Milk E.P.," which was apparently a highly desirable collector's item. It's a nice little set of psychedelic-lite and Merseybeatley ballads, along with the breezy, “The Fun Song,” that sounds like it could have come off the Beach Boys' Friends album.
Four more reasons you should own this CD!
[This column appeared in slightly different form, with some mistakes, on blogcritics.org.]
Addendumb: After posting this last night, I heard "Indian Lake" on the radio this morning! Which prompts me to recommend that Cowsills neophytes start their listening with the greatest hits disc, rather than the concert one. Because the only hit on the concert one is the one I dislike!
