An Itch(ycoo) You Can’t Scratch

What I’m going to do here, for my own (and, almost certainly, for no one else’s) contemplation is a runthrough of the 1999 Itchycoo Park festival, as represented by the DVD, Living Legends of Rock and Roll: Live From Itchycoo Park. I should note, I don’t actually own this DVD, only an ephemeral copy, in the form of a recording on a DVR (which belongs to DISH network). When I first tried to find a copy of the DVD, last year, used copies were going for as much as $93. In keeping with the idiocy of my obsession with this thing, that’s $23 more than a full pass to the actual event cost.

Because I’m a long-time amateur piano player, I will make special note of the keyboard players. Due to my own advanced age, I will speak to how well, or poorly, the “legends” have aged, with my Rate of Decrepitude [ROD], where 10 is “will be kicking Jack LaLaynne’s ass in the afterlife” and 1 is “the Crypt Keeper’s close-up double.” If you like, you may refer to this ranking by its alternate designation, ROT, for Ravages of Time. And because of the full title of this video, I’ll evaluate the aptness of each act’s general legend-worthiness.

Styx
The video kicks off with Tommy Shaw making some exceedingly awkward small talk to introduce Styx’ mechanical “Too Much Time on My Hands.” This band is always better when they spare us the cod-British braying of Dennis DeYoung, if that isn’t faint praise, and this is an energetic, capable rendition of a song I could not care less about.

What an odd choice to lead off the DVD, with a song that was a hit in 1981. From the acts advertised to appear at the festival, and those on the DVD, the concept seemed to be 60s/70s FM-AOR, so this sets an odd, 80s AOR tone from the outset.

Not only the lead slot, Styx also gets to offer a second selection, “Fooling Yourself,” that is every bit as proficient, and memorable, as their first. Clearly this music is incredibly (if inexplicably) popular, and maybe I’m missing something, but I don’t hear anything in this wallpaper music, as high voltage as they may act like it is. There’s just nothing memorable or exciting about it, and if I hadn’t wanted to see some of the other acts, I would have stopped watching and gone to wash dishes, or some other more-stimulating activity.

Keys: While anything other than DeYoung would constitute a trade up, replacing DeYoung’s vocal affectations and obvious theatrical aspirations for (presumably Lawrence Gowan’s) absurd acrobatics involving his swivel-based instrument* renders the substitution a near wash. I was not alone in bursting out in laughter the first time Larry took his big organ out for a spin.

ROD: Tommy Shaw = 7 (he’s looking a little face-lifty), overall = 8 (Mr. Swivel on keyboard has a youthful look that brings down the overall air of decrepitude, ludicrous as he may be)

Legend rating = As emblematic as this stuff is of 80s rock, I will grudgingly acknowledge the “Styx legend” as apt, while noting that one can be a legend for negative reasons, too.

* Yes, I snickered typing the words, “swivel-based instrument.” And it’s not properly an “organ,” but c’mon, you gotta give me that one.

Mark Farner of Grand Funk Railroad
No offense to Mel and Don, but they might as well cede the name and let Mark bill himself as “Grand Funk Railroad.” To my ears, on casual listening, their rendition of “I’m Your Captain/Closer To Home”* sounds indistinguishable from any by the classic GFRR lineup that I’ve heard. The “of” designation puts the stamp of questionable legitimacy on this aggregation, same as when someone tours on his former association with a known band, but is too obscure to have name recognition on his own, like “Roger Earl of Foghat,” for example. Or “Smiley Burnette of Petticoat Junction.”

* In keeping with the overall shoddiness of this package, the DVD lists the performance as two separate songs, the second of which it labels, “I’m Getting Closer To My Home.” It’s a truly craptastic looking piece of product, and I hope the images show up well enough here for you to fully appreciate its desperate cash-grab appearance.

As the lead singer, primary songwriter, and guitarist/keys player/frontman, Farner was to Grand Funk as Fogarty was to CCR, the voice and face of the band. So, sorry Mel and Don (and Stu and Doug), your absence isn’t going to be the crippling shortcoming you might prefer it to be.

What is with Farner and those crappy guitars he plays, though? Is Kramer really the best choice for the kind of light metal boogie GFRR specializes in? Maybe, although I’m assuming it’s less about the sound and more about an endorsement deal.

This act and material at least make sense for a 70s AOR concert document. Who knew that the band who brought you “T.N.U.C.” had such a durable, even sorta moving athem in them? “I’m Your Captain/Closer To Home” has been interpreted as being about drug addiction (by those who think all 60s/70s rock and roll lyrics are about drugs, in some capacity), and Farner has apparently encouraged the notion that the song is about the Vietnam War. I remember the radio ads when the album came out, with a portentious voice spouting some vaguely apocalyptic environmental message, an interpretation the lyrics pretty clearly support.

But this is Grand Funk—next I’ll be analyzing the lyrics to “Mean Mistreater”! This is a solid rendition of a song no one ever expected to become a Classic. And Grand Funk, whoever constitutes the band at this stage, is vastly better represented in Itchycoo Park than in the only other festival film appearance I know of, at 1970’s Midsummer Rock Fest, where they are shown performing “Inside Looking Out” … and “T.N.U.C.”

Keys: None

ROD: His hairline’s slipped a bit and he’s looking beefier, but overall, almost aberrantly healthy for an old-tyme rocker, so Farner gets an 8.

Legend rating = Given that their music has outlived some of the critics who used to delight in belittling the band’s blue collar populism; that they were such tireless (relentless?) arena-shakers that critical opinion didn’t matter; and that they produced several tracks that still rock convincingly, decades later, Grand Funk looks pretty solidly “legendary.”

Iron Butterfly
Iron Butterfly managed to make news in 1999; unfortunately, it wasn’t for their performance at the Itchycoo Park festival, but for the discovery of the body of Philip Kramer, the band’s bassist during the 70s, later a defense contractor whose 1995 disappearance fueled far more press than most of their records managed. The haters may say that the extensive Kramer speculation was far more interesting than most of the Butterfly’s records, but I often found IB to be satisfyingly heavy and crunchy.

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was the first l.p. I bought with my own modest, early-teen income (although things would have been different had it not been for Dad bringing home Beatles and Beach Boys records). It was just so dark and weighty, and the aspiring musician in me was encouraged by the prominent role the organ played in this band, sort of like Vanilla Fudge with more than one tempo. For these and other reasons, I’ve always had a thing for ‘Vida (as IB fans call it, or should, if they don’t), to the extent that I invented a unit of time based on the song’s duration.

The deluxe CD of the ‘Vida album includes three versions of the title track: the single, the original album cut, and a live take. This rendition from Itchycoo will make you forget none of those. Sure, it ticks all the essential ‘Vida boxes: incessant repitition of that insidiously catchy riff, check; captivatingly nonsensical lyrics, got it; plodding, quasi-tribal drum solo, yep; and of course, the droning, churchy, somewhat menacing organ extravagence of Doug Ingle—not so fast! Although several sources show Ingle as being with the band for part of the year, he is absent at Itchycoo, his place (and then some) at Icthycoo is taken by Damian Bujanda, looking quite Whale Music-period Brian Wilson.

Here we have the opposite of the Grand Funk situation, or something that should have been billed as “Iron Butterfly sans Doug Ingle.” I like to point out that you can only get away with replacing vodka in the bottle with water for so long until what you’ve got ain’t vodka any more. And that if you keep slapping Ford Fiesta parts on your Bugatti Veyron, you will eventually have a hideous mutation that won’t outrun a Vespa.

This version of the band includes just the rhythm section from the group that cut ‘Vida in the studio and, drum solos aside, their parts and sound do not identify this sprawling rock n’ roll landmark. Bujanda is totally adaquate on the Hammond, (although his bench surfing gyrations and bliss-faces are distracting as a Frisbee to the head), he’s just not very distinctive, and he sure ain’t Doug Ingle.

Minus Ingle’s distinctive organ style and lead vocals, this is nothing more than a competent tribute band. Or, if you like, it’s like showing up at Le Mans in a Tata Nano (go to topgear dot com and search for this car—well worth your time).

Keys: Though Damian Bujanda is infinitely more animated (not that that’s an advantage), I can’t help thinking of late-70s Brian Wilson when I watch him play. My belief is that, if you’re going to attract attention to yourself onstage, it shouldn’t be to catch the moment when he blissfully rocks his substantial bulk off his piano bench.

ROD = Not notably decrepit, I also had to remind myself that this video was shot 12 years ago. They look about like any middle-aged bar band you could find playing Camaro rock in any state of the union. Let’s call it a 5.

Legend rating = Iron Butterfly personifies the one-hit wonder, with a body of work (including their three other charting songs) lacking anything remotely approaching their signature tune. Although “Flowers and Beads” has always seemed devilishly catchy to me. Can one song make you a legend? When it’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, the answer is [insert Doug Ingle grunt] yeah!

Next: Those nice Nelson boys. And Firefall? More like Sh*tstorm!