DADDY LONGLEGS: GETTING IT TOGETHER
By Jonathon Green, Rolling Stone
November 10, 1969
It takes about two and a half hours to meander down to Somerset. You wander past the appalling suburbs, the green-scampi and stockbroker-belts, each one more horrifying in its status-seeking insularity. Finally, the burst into open country is ruined by the ultimate in English institutions - The Army - which has desecrated Salisbury Plain with the tramp of marching feet and caterpillar tank-transporters.
Eventually you do get to Somerset, and the object of the excursion — an institution less hallowed by time, but equally beloved by its adherents - the Group Country Cottage. The Group in question are 'Daddy Longlegs', the cottage is the latest in their long series of rural hideouts. They are as yet unknown with the exception of two unofficial gigs, and have come over from the States to make their base here. A reverse from the usual movement of English groups to America. The novelty value must work both ways.
'Daddy Longlegs' exude happiness. As soon as you arrive in their midst, the whole aura hits you; it stays well after you leave. Obviously they claim that they are not in it for the money, no-one with more vehemence than their co-managers Paula and David Shapiro. Despite inevitable suspicions of hype, it seems that they may well be honest. Certainly two and a half years in the States spent almost entirely jamming and living in other rural paradises hardly indicate dedicated breadheads.
They started life in the States as "Buffo", a group that steadily got together through the efforts of an organist, Jeffrey, who has since left them, his mind and his instrument completely blown. His inspiration coupled with financial backing began the group. First member to be chosen was Kurt Palomaki — bass guitarist, who was working as a janitor at the Electric Circus in New York. From New York they went to San Francisco where Steve Hayton, the lead and vocalist, joined the group. Already well -known in the Haight Ashburv as a musician, he arrived via the grapevine. Last to appear was drummer Clif Carrison, who found out about the rapidly enlarging band through a poster ad.
Their itinerary though the States over the last two years is impressive. Chicago to New York to San Francisco to consolidate the line up, then to a farm in upstate New York, then back to Chicago, back to New York City. It was after this last stop that 'Buffo' as a band broke up, although the members, with the exception of Jeffrey, intended to keep something together. Life was always exciting. In Chicago they caused a riot, playing in a tough club called the Palace, their mixture of blues and rock hung up the sixteen-year-old hoodlums who screamed for soul. When screaming proved useless they preceded to rip the place apart. The group retired to an upstairs room, where they played the piano until the arrival, timely for a change, of the fuzz.
When Buffo fell apart they expected their management to arrange something else. But instead of help, they suffered their greatest blow. All they saw were a few dollars for food. They subsisted while the money-men bought cars, clothes and the odd discotheque.
The break, the inevitable break that hallmarks every good 'showbiz story,' came when a film was made about 'Buffo'. Working on the film were the Shaprios. Instead of hiring an outside band for the soundtrack it was decided use the stars themselves. The meeting proved the necessary turning point. The mutual enjoyment of each other's personalities and performances both musically and ethically, confirmed the partnership that has developed into 'Daddy Longlegs'.
The group retired to Vallecitos in New Mexico, where they developed their acoustic abilities and resisted the demands of the locals to create conformists of them. As a final practice before leaving for England they started their career as Daddy Longlegs at a love-in in Denver, Colorado. From there they have come to England, and the peace of Somerset.
Cynicism apart, a group as happy as 'Daddy Longlegs' must have something good going for them. Sure enough, the future looks incredibly rosy. Although the managers are about as inexperienced as possible, they have been lucky enough to have Tim Sharrnan, who has suffered all the hustles himself, dealing with the business side of life.
Talking to the band one can never forget how well together they are, not only musically, but in their personal relationships as well. Any problems that might have existed, the things that are common to every group, pop or otherwise, have been ironed out in two years and more of co-existence.
Bad times outnumbered the good ones. The three of them and their chicks live in the ideal situation - The Family/Commune setup which has occurred not through the machinations of politically motivated activists but, just through natural processes.
Despite their lack of reputation, they have reached the stage that many veteran groups would envy. Though doubtless the lack of success, fame and the pressures that they entail, must have helped towards a smoother path. What will happen when, and if, they achieve success is still an imponderable. It does seem that the unity already achieved will help hold them together, whatever happens.
If they are to succeed or fail, everything will depend on their music. They are a mixed bag. Starting with hard rock in their respective high school bands, they have moved on through blues, folk, country, bluegrass and back to heavier rock (with all the other strains persisting). Inevitably they reject any attempts to categorize them, equally inevitably, one tries to do it.
Listening to their jamming, interspersed with a few stage numbers, in the close confines of the cottage you can't mistake the excellence of their musical ability. Clif played one drum solo in the early hours that dragged everyone out of their own reveries into a general concentration on the waves of sound that splattered through individual consciousness. Steve produced incredible sounds from what seems like a whole group, not just one instrument. Kurt, who was originally auditioned by playing two notes in as many ways as possible, provides a great bass line. He also provides their lyrics. His topics cover everything from traditional ballads and science fiction to head songs.
'Daddy Longlegs' claim that they want just to make people feel good with good music. The adulation just written is obviously a proof that they have succeeded. Whether of course they will extend their following outside the few who called for encores at the Roundhouse, and the rustics at whose barbecue they played, is a matter for the future. They have obtained an agent, David Apps, and a recording contract is being negotiated. Soon they will depart for a European tour, in the new year they will be launched upon England.
Everything seems right for them at the moment. It is hard to fault their music, especially considering that their experience of live gigs is minimal, they have only played together as a group twice. The quality that makes one so enthusiastic about them is undoubtedly their happiness and their lack of hype or ego pushing. They managed to exist on their music alone for two years in America, if all does not go well here, then they will probably manage again. Leaving them playing frisbee on the grass, with the music still echoing around, it seemed very likely that they always will.
