LEE MICHAELS BURNS
my adventures with the fire marshal, part 2
brian kirby - usa 2 october 1970 los angeles FREE PRESS vol.7 #40 (total # 324)

note: edited part of a series of stories about a fire marshal frustrating the writer's life

last saturday i took my six-month-old son, eric coltrane, to his first rock concert. the show at the shrine auditorium was to have been a triple bill, leading of with 'simon stokes and the nighthawks' (and a certain organist, lee michaels, plus additional drummer, as the main act - t.t.). instead, they jumped right in with the number two act, captain beefheart and the magic band, while the once plush house was still being filled.

captain beefheart has long been a legend. unfortunately his performance at the shrine did not shed any light on the man or his music. for some insane reason the amplifiers were turned up past the threshold of pain, and despite pleas from the audience, there they remained throughout his excruciating hour-long set.

i mean, i've sat through loud groups like led zeppelin, cream and, of course, blue cheer. but this was madness, more akin to the feeling one might have diving down to 200 fathoms (or 365 meters - t.t.). his voice was even unintelligible when he spoke. i didn't need that shit.

visually the magic band was slightly more interesting. decked out in formal attire that appeared to have been rented from the 'salvation army' rather than from 'sir of hollywood', they put on a continuous show between numbers, walking on and off stage in procession, and even at one point, passing out 'joints' from a silver platter. they were fun to watch: instant nostalgia for the good old days of freak-outs with the mothers of invention.

and those few moments when i could actually héar, as during a stand-out fuzz-tone bass solo, and the beginnings of songs, with the two drummers laying down some complex, driving polyrhythms, made me regret that i could not hear more. captain beefheart remains a mystery. and an irritation: my ears still hurt.