Paul Bryant pbryant98@...
Sun Dec 2 16:46:11 CET 2007

Fine story, but remind me why the Misunderstood were
never successful - sounds like they really should have

--- Richard Shaw Brown <rsbj66@...> wrote:

> (In 1966) The Misunderstood played at Pandora's Box
> on Sunset in LA,
> about which John Peel told Index Magazine in 2003,
> "If I had to list
> the ten greatest performances I've seen in my life,
> one would be The
> Misunderstood at Pandora's Box, Hollywood, 1966. It
> was the only time
> I've seen an audience reduced to impotent silence".
> CHAPTER 34: Pandora's Box
> Would you believe? We start out pretending to be
> English, and we
> actually become a British band, in real-live London.
> 'How in the world
> did that happen?' you wonder. Well, it all started
> with John Peel, at
> Hollywood's crazy Pandora's Box rock club. A mighty
> wild night that
> would really change our lives.
> We're on stage. The club's lights are out. The only
> light is the
> flashing coming from behind our amps. We're playing
> The Yardbird's
> classic, 'I'm Not Talking' � in OUR style. And we're
> just coming to our
> long freak out solo, where we leave the stage with
> music on auto-pilot.
> No sh*t!
> The music suddenly jerks to a halt, and into the
> microphone I shout,
> Then the band comes in together�CRASH!�and again
> jerks to a stop. I
> finish the rap, 'THAT'S ALL I GOTTA SAY!'
> Drum roll�. Feedback: 'Bhuzzzzzz' Whoa, here we go.
> Glenn begins
> amazing shrieks and screeching sounds in Indian raga
> style, and all the
> guys get their guitars feeding back in different
> tremolo speeds, some
> fast, like 'wah wah wah', some slow, like, 'woo woo
> woo.' The guys
> remove their guitars, lean them against their amps,
> and we all jump off
> the stage into the audience, leaving the guitars
> feeding back. Moe is
> the only band member on stage, keeping the beat. The
> lights flash in
> sync with the screaming feedback, accompanied by
> Moe's pounding drums.
> The scene is unreal. 
> Me and the other guys go behind the crowd to see how
> it looks. It's
> spectacular! Mind-blowing! The bartender even closes
> the bar to watch
> the spectacle of the world's first-ever psychedelic
> light show. We all
> stand with him looking as our unattended guitars
> wail away in
> controlled feedback, the likes of which Hollywood,
> and the world, has
> never seen.
> John Peel is standing with the band, and has to
> shout into my ear to be
> heard. 'Rick! RICK! Look at the crowd!' We both see
> the crowd,
> hypnotized, all their eyes on the near empty
> flashing, screaming stage,
> their mouths just hanging open...
> 'Ha!' I laugh. 'Looks like the Misunderstood are
> better off stage than
> all the other groups are ON stage!'
> John is straining his voice to tell me, 'Rick, I
> know we've tried the
> record companies here. All they want is what sells:
> pop music!'
> The stunning sounds suddenly get louder. Glenn has
> climbed back on
> stage and starts an Indian raga-riff, making it feed
> back even more.
> Moe keeps the steady beat, along with Steve who also
> joins in again.
> I'm still standing behind the crowd with John. I ask
> him, 'What? What
> did you say?'
> my ear.
> 'What? What about London?' I holler back.
> 'The band should move to London! My brother Alan can
> help!' John
> suggests.
> Duh! Dumb me, I'm like, 'Where's Alan?' - or better
> yet, 'Where's
> London?'
> 'He lives in London, so does my Mum! I come from
> England, remember?'
> But I don't reply. Instead I weave my way through
> the crowd � the
> people are so amazed by the musical drama that they
> don't even notice
> me � and I jump back onto the stage to join the
> other band members.
> I take the shrieking bongo drum off the head of my
> microphone and we
> jerk to a halt. Again I belt out, 'I'm not talkin'!'
> CRASH! 'That's
> what I gotta say!' And we're back into the song
> again, blasting at full
> volume. All amps set on volume 15 (out of 1-10).
> After the sustained noise of the feedback the music
> is even more
> powerful, and the audience are really getting into
> it. Bitchen! YEAH!
> I glance at Glenn, and he has a look like, 'Wow!
> Have we stumbled on to
> something here, or what?'
> Moe is shaking his hair, spraying sweat into the
> lights.
> Greg is bouncing up and down as he plays his guitar.
> His head hits the
> roof of the low stage sending down a small shower of
> plaster.
> When the 10-12 minute song ends there is a moment of
> dead silence -
> 'gulp x 5' - then the audience breaks into a loud
> roar of sustained
> applause, surging towards the stage. We're all
> smiling in a dazed,
> bemused kind of way. Greg is rubbing his head, which
> he's surprised to
> find has blood from where he'd hit it. In the
> audience, John Peel is
> looking on like a proud father figure. 'Yo Papa!'
> After the gig we're on the way home. Greg is
> driving, Steve in the
> passenger seat, I'm leaning forward between them;
> Moe and Glenn sit in
> the back, crushed between all the equipment.
> 'So it's simple,' I'm telling them. 'John can fix it
> all up. His mom
> lives right in the middle of London, we can stay
> there. His brother's
> an actor or something � he's totally connected � he
> can hook us up with
> a manager, maybe even a record deal.'
> 'So, what are you saying?' asks Steve. 'We just like
> pack up everything
> and fly to England�'
> Greg interrupts, '� and become an overnight
> sensation, hang out with
> the Beatles and the Stones, and then conquer the
> world�'
> 'Well, yeah. Basically.' I prod, 'What would you
> rather do, sit here
> and rot in Riverside? None of the Hollywood record
> companies will even
> give us the time of day. We gotta go for it, dudes!'
> http://www.themisunderstood.com/like-novel.html
> Send instant messages to your online friends
> http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com 

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