The Encyclopedia of Dead Rock Stars (39 page)

‘Mama’ Cass: Put everyone else in the shade

‘She was fat, but cheerfully, willingly,
superbly
so.’

Michelle Phillips, The Mamas & The Papas

The downfall of The Mamas & The Papas was precipitated by tense personal relationships between the members: at one point, Michelle Phillips was dismissed from the band, she and her husband parting in 1970. Ultimately, despite their rejuvenation by a triumphant Monterey Festival performance, hopes of reviving the fortunes of The Mamas & The Papas were to be dashed. Elliot – now with a daughter, Owen Vanessa (the identity of the father was never revealed) – had also divorced, but enjoyed solo success; her biggest latterday hit was the UK Top Ten ‘It’s Getting Better’ (1969).

In terms of her health, though, things were far from improving. Inflicting a series of ill-advised crash diets on herself – reportedly allowing just one meal a week – Elliot put her heart under severe pressure as she began a two-week showcase at the London Palladium in July 1974. She was found dead at a flat in Curzon Place, Mayfair, belonging to her friend Harry Nilsson – a venue that, four years later, was to claim the life of a second rock star, Keith Moon (
September 1978).

See also
John Phillips (
Golden Oldies #11); Zal Yanovsky (
December 2002); Denny Doherty (
Golden Oldies #42).

AUGUST

Friday 9

Bill Chase

(William Edward Chiaiese - Squantum, Massachusetts, 20 October 1934)

Walter Clark

(1949)

John Emma

(1952)

Wally Yohn

(1947)

Chase

Chase – a powerful, nine-piece jazz-rock ensemble predicted to become as huge as Chicago (the band) – were founded in 1970 by trumpeter Bill Chase, a veteran of the business who’d gained experience and respect with jazz performers Woody Herman and Stan Kenton during the sixties. A meaningful breakthrough to the rock sector seemed a tougher nut to crack for Chase, though, and their 1971 ‘Get It On’ was the only Top Forty hit the band were to enjoy.

In 1973, a difficult light-aircraft flight for Chase had left bassist Dartanyon Brown too scared ever to fly again – and was to prove a sinister omen for the band. A year later, having completed a week of well-received dates in Texas, Bill Chase and his band were all set for an appearance at the Jackson County Fair in Minnesota when the group’s Piper Comanche fell from the sky in adverse conditions. The craft crashed just short of the runway as it attempted to land: Chase and three members of his band – Walter Clark (drums), John Emma (guitar) and Wally Yohn (keys) – were killed, as were the pilot and co-pilot. The rest of the band learned the terrible news as they awaited their contingent at the fair. With pilot error and poor radio communications given as the reason for the disaster, the bereaved families all filed successful lawsuits.

SEPTEMBER

Monday 23

Robbie McIntosh

(Dundee, Scotland, 6 May 1950)

The Average White Band

(Oblivion Express)

Beginning his career with RCA-signed Forevermore in the late sixties, percussionist Robbie McIntosh was spotted by Brian Auger (late of Trinity), who selected him for his newer band Oblivion Express – a name that later rang ironically true. McIntosh could have been called a journeyman musician, even though he was only twenty-four when he died. He eventually wound up in The Average White Band in 1972, having been one of several band members who had had a UK number one that year as back-up for Chuck Berry on his frivolous ‘My Ding-a-Ling’ single. AWB’s own success only really began after a 1973 debut album with CBS had fared poorly. A second, eponymous record on Atlantic picked up wider attention – not least for its distinctive sleeve – with featured single ‘Pick up the Pieces’ mustering airplay by the end of 1974.

For Robbie McIntosh, though, it was already too late. At a Hollywood party thrown by millionaire playboy Kenneth Moss in honour of surviving Allman Brother, Gregg, the band (tired after a week-long booking at LA’s Troubadour Club) were offered what they thought was cocaine. Having hoovered it all up, they discovered to their horror that the substance was, in fact, heroin laced with strychnine; attempts to eject the poison from their systems were effective for the majority of AWB, though singer/bassist Alan Gorrie had the attendant Cher (then Allman’s girlfriend) to thank for making him pace the floor to prevent him slipping into a coma. Unable to force the exhausted McIntosh to stay awake – let alone vomit up the contents of his stomach – his bandmates could only watch as the young drummer slipped away. Moss later pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter but served just three months. A bereft Average White Band, meanwhile, replaced McIntosh with their first black member, Steve Ferrone (who also replaced McIntosh in Oblivion Express): within two months of the tragedy, the appropriately titled single was on its way to topping the US charts.

NOVEMBER

Monday 25

Nick Drake

(Rangoon, Burma, 19 June 1948)

Was the music of Nick Drake simply too ethereal, too beautiful to be noticed in an era obsessed with the glamour of pop or the pomp and technique of prog rock? Whatever the reason, Drake was a severely underrated songwriter during his lifetime, and it took two more decades for his work to be given even adequate recognition. Perhaps many aspects of Nick Drake’s world precluded pop stardom during his lifetime. He was a deeply – overly, according to some – sensitive character from a very young age, and certainly no wild man. Nor indeed was his gift the result of struggle in a conventional sense: Drake’s family was distinctly upper-middle class. His father, Rodney, was an engineer, deployed abroad until his health dictated the family’s return to Britain when Nick was four. A gentle, slender and good-looking man, Nick Drake found his demons came from within, at a time when such admissions were still not permitted.

Raised in Tanworth-in-Arden near Birmingham, the quiet Drake excelled at school in both studies and games, subsequently winning a Cambridge scholarship in 1966. But the creativity of making and writing music was his real love: Drake – who had learned clarinet, alto sax, piano and guitar – became, according to his mother, Molly (also a songwriter), an insomniac who sat in an orange armchair writing his melodies into the small hours. To his parents’ chagrin, Drake left his studies to concentrate on his art. He was inspired by musicians like Bert Jansch and John Renbourn, but it was plain to the few who knew him that his talent was the equal or better of most of those that had gone before. Although this select band of fans was to remain select, one who took Drake seriously was Fairport Convention producer Joe Boyd (on the recommendation of bassist Ashley Hutchings), who arranged first a demo for his Witchseason imprint and then the sessions for what would become the singer/songwriter’s spellbinding debut album,
Five Leaves Left
(1969). The latter – its title often wrongly interpreted as an early statement of the singer’s suicidal intent – is a collection of songs both uplifting yet disquieting, their fragility enhanced by string arrangements by Drake’s university friend Robert Kirby and the input of established musicians such as Richard Thompson. Its 1970 follow-up,
Bryter Layter,
was an altogether more accomplished affair, but still possessed much of the frail charm of the debut and perhaps Drake’s finest composition, ‘Northern Sky’. Neither record made serious headway, despite critical acclaim – a paradox that confounded the musician. Some suggested that a lack of interest in Drake’s sprightlier second collection was down to his reluctance to take the album on the road: he’d played a series of dates at the time of the debut but had always been uncomfortable with performing, seldom making eye contact with his audience. Now, early signs of depression were interpreted as ‘disappointment’ in most quarters.