On the waterfront (and near Fisherman’s Wharf, apparently): Founding member, Ian Anderson (in vest), with longtime guitarist, Martin Barre (white t-shirt), with the late-’80s iteration of Tull. “Tweeter and the Monkey Man,” The Headstones, 1993, MCA Records This song, from their Incredible Shrinking Dickies debut, was written by band members Stan Lee and Chuck Wagon (aka Bob Davis), and showcased their speed as well as their awareness of odd English idioms and some simple simian synonyms. Funny? Yeah, I guess but, looking back, their main musical contribution seems to be limited to helping record buyers appreciate the eventual arrival of Weird Al Yankovic that much more. It didn’t help that (in that same year) they recorded TV’s furry Banana Splits’ theme song (“The Tra La La Song”). To me, back in that day, I considered the Dickies’ rock gravitas about as “important” as if The Three Stooges had picked up guitars (a mantle I’m sure they were happy to pick up, and eagerly adopted years later by Green Day). The Dickies, signed by A&M shortly after the L.A.-based label famously signed and promptly dumped the Sex Pistols (and thus, desperate to appear on the forefront of “this whole new punk thing”), the San Fernando Valley natives were seen, in some camps, as a West Coast Ramones, but that’s a slap in the face of the far more respected eventual Rock’n’Roll Hall of Famers (2002). “You Drive Me Ape (You Big Gorilla),” The Dickies, 1979, A&M Records Taylor’s “Gorilla” appeared as the fifth of eleven songs on his similarly-named album, his sixth collection, fifth for Warner Bros., and his next-to-last before he signed a massive free-agent deal with CBS Records, who released his JT in 1977. “He was always that same real person,” said Seeff, “honest and noble.” □Norman Seeff That worked for me even though it wasn’t my usual intense, spontaneous style of working with artists.” During future sessions, Seeff found the singer’s demeanor never changed. I didn’t ask what it meant, but I loved the abstract and graphic imagery he offered. James had a secret metaphor that he associated with the music for the album. We didn’t interact at an emotional place, but we did connect at a creative level. “He was very much himself and didn’t feel any need to dance for anyone’s approval. “I wouldn’t say he was shy, but reserved, retiring,” he explained. Having previously worked with Taylor, Seeff was aware of his unassuming nature in front of the camera. “It was one of those wonderful weekdays in Malibu when you can go to the beach and no one’s there,” said noted rock photog, Norman Seeff in a recent. On the waterfront: James Taylor, during a “Gorilla” photo shoot (unknown if the accompanying banana is ironic or just an off-hand snack).
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