Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} There's Something Happening Here The Story Of For What It's Worth by John Eina There's Something Happening Here: The Story Of Buffalo Springfield For What It's Worth by John Einarson. At the end of the 1960s, the rock landscape was changing so radically, in manners so counter to the way things had been done just a few years previously, that many albums found their way to major label release that could have never been given the green light in any other era. One of the strangest of those is 's The Cycle Is Complete , the sole solo album by Buffalo Springfield's original bass player. The record was nothing if not uncompromising, consisting of four largely instrumental, improvised-sounding psychedelic-jazz-world fusion pieces that bore little relation to conventional rock music, or even to conventional structured songs. Though the LP marked Palmer's first recorded venture as frontman, he had been in bands since the early 1960s, when he joined the Swinging Doors in Toronto. In the mid-1960s he was in the British Invasion-like combo Jack London & the Sparrows, leaving before the release of their first single to join . Fronted by singer Ricky James Matthews, the Mynah Birds eventually recruited a young as guitarist in early 1966. The group got a contract with Motown and cut some unreleased tracks for the label in Detroit. But the sessions came to an end -- as did the Mynah Birds -- when Matthews was discovered to be AWOL from the American navy. That was hardly the last to be heard from Matthews, however; he would resurface in the late 1970s as funk superstar Rick James, and long before that would play an unheralded role on Palmer's solo album. Palmer and Young, in one of rock's most famous and romantic legends, set off to Los Angeles in Young's Hearse to try and find Young's friend to start a band. They had no address for Stephen, but against incredible odds they found him when Stills and Richie Furay passed the Hearse going in the opposite direction on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. With the addition of drummer , the musicians formed Buffalo Springfield, one of the greatest bands of the 1960s. Although Palmer didn't sing or write any of the group's material, his smoking, innovative bass lines were vital to the band's power, and his back-to-the-audience stage posture added some enigmatic mystery to the act's image. Palmer's stint in the Springfield, however, was stormy, as was the group's entire career. He was busted for pot in early 1967 and deported back to Canada for a few months. While he managed to get back into the States and rejoin the band for the last half of '67, another bust in early '68 instigated his final exit from the group, to be replaced by . He was considered for the bass slot in Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young the following year, but rehearsals didn't pan out, although he does play on two tracks that surfaced on the CSNY box set in the early 1990s. That left him free to record his off-the-wall solo album for MGM. "MGM approached me, [producer] Don Hall and [MGM executive] Michael Curb, to do an album," Palmer remembered in John Einarson and Richie Furay's There’s Something Happening Here: The Story of Buffalo Springfield: For What It’s Worth . "I went in and did a demo for them. It was the first time I had written or sang a song in my life. I wrote it the night before. So I went in, did the song, played several instruments so it sounded like a band, they loved it, signed a contract, and I went in and did two and [a] half hours of instrumental music with Rick James and seven or eight other people. It was spontaneous music, over two hours long so I had to edit it down to 45 minutes." James, still going by the name Rick Matthews, added percussion and sings-scats here and there, sounding like a cross between Stephen Stills and Stevie Winwood when he breaks into stream-of-consciousness vocalese on "Oxo." The rest of the backing crew included organist Ed Roth; conga player Big Black (aka Danny Ray), a jazzman who'd done a few albums on his own; and four members of the fine folk-rock-psychedelic-world fusion band Kaleidoscope, then in their dying days. Only one of the four, violinist Chester Crill, had been in Kaleidoscope's first lineup; the others were drummer Paul Lagos, pianist Jeff Kaplan, and flute/oboe player Richard Aplan (aka Richard Aplanalp). Kaleidoscope had just worked with Hall on the soundtrack to Zabriskie Point , also issued on MGM, on which Hall (a DJ on pioneering Los Angeles FM rock station KPPC) had been music coordinator. As Crill (who played on The Cycle Is Complete under one of his several outrageous pseudonyms, Templeton Parcely) explains, the quartet of Kaleidoscopers had been engaged to work on three projects at the same time. One was Palmer's record; one was an even more obscure LP by singer-songwriter Curt Newbury, Half a Month of May Days (on which James/Matthews also appeared, and which Hall also produced); and the other was a solo album by Big Black, which Crill isn't even sure was released. To Crill's recollection, "The basic tracks were Bruce, Kaplan, and drums. I think Kaplan kind of helped him chart it all out, 'cause I think it wasn't everybody playing together. It wasn't live. Everybody heard those cuts, just with guitar and maybe a little piano, and then they layered it over a couple hours, one at a time. Everybody got one take. "If Kaplan show[ed] up on a session in those days, it was to try to make some sense out of it, 'cause he was a musicologist type. He would listen to something raw, and could write it up right away and kind of lead people in some kind of a way. It took a long time to get something out of it. There were like 900 layers on it. When I left, they had just gotten through doing two entire tracks on two of those really long ones of Aplanalp doing two oboe parts. By then, it was like chocolate mud." When the album was finished, Palmer added in There’s Something Happening Here: The Story of Buffalo Springfield: For What It’s Worth , "I handed it to them [MGM] and they dropped their drawers. I gave them what I thought music was all about, not what they thought music was all about. That was what I intended to do. They released it and I retired. I had a laugh at the industry's expense. I did that album and just had enough of the music business. I was seeing my friends turning into beets. Is this what I want to do? Is this what happened to music?" The record must have sold little upon its release in 1971, judging from how impossible it is to turn up an original, though Lester Bangs did find time to pan it in Rolling Stone as "long, long jams in a kind of limp noodle middling Eastern-Space vein, like a DMT hangover from the psychedelic era." His laugh at the industry's expense complete, Palmer made good on his promise to retire from the music scene, although he did play live with Neil Young briefly in the early 1980s (also appearing on Young's Trans album), and formed the tribute band Buffalo Springfield Revisited in the mid- 1980s. -- Richie Unterberger. "For What It's Worth" lyrics. I think it's time we stop Children, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? There's battle lines being drawn Nobody's right if everybody's wrong Young people speaking' their minds Getting so much resistance from behind. It's time we stop Hey, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? What a field day for the heat A thousand people in the street Singing songs and carrying signs Mostly saying, "hooray for our side" It's time we stop Hey, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? Paranoia strikes deep Into your life it will creep It starts when you're always afraid Step out of line, the man come and take you away. We better stop Hey, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? We better stop Hey, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? We better stop Now, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? We better stop Children, what's that sound? Everybody look - what's going down? John Einarson (Einarson, John) More editions of Desperados: The Roots of : More editions of For What It's Worth: The Story of Buffalo Springfield: More editions of Forever Changes: Arthur Lee And The Book Of Love: More editions of Four Strong Winds: Ian and Sylvia: More editions of Hot Burritos: The True Story of The Flying Burrito Brothers: More editions of Neil Young: Don't Be Denied: More editions of Randy Bachman: Takin' Care of Business: More editions of Shakin' All over: The Winnipeg Sixties Rock Scene: More editions of There's Something Happening Here: The Story of Buffalo Springfield : for What It's Worth: Founded in 1997, BookFinder.com has become a leading book price comparison site: Find and compare hundreds of millions of new books, used books, rare books and out of print books from over 100,000 booksellers and 60+ websites worldwide. There's Something Happening Here: The Story Of Buffalo Springfield For What It's Worth by John Einarson. For What It's Worth. Nowadays, They Can't Even Sing: A new book details the rise and fall of Buffalo Springfield. The Buffalo Springfield once challenged the Byrds and the Beatles--but something happened there. By Nicky Baxter. M OST HISTORIES of pop music position the Byrds at the center of the mid-1960s folk-rock revolution--and rightly so. Roger McGuinn's nasally tuneful singing and chiming 12-string Richenbacker guitar have influenced everyone from Tom Petty to R.E.M. Often obscured by the Byrdmania, however, is the fact that the Buffalo Springfield was at least as talented and just as influential. Along with McGuinn's group, the Buffalo Springfield inaugurated the era of supergroups. There's Something Happening Here: The Story of Buffalo Springfield: For What It's Worth offers compelling evidence that had the group managed to survive, it might have blown right past the Byrds as the seminal American rock band. John Einarson and former Buffalo Springfield bandmember Richie Furay do an exemplary job prying beneath the layers of myth and mystique to get at what made the group succeed in the first place, as well as detailing the myriad factors that contributed to its lamentably premature demise. Furay's insider's view contributes immensely to this highly readable account's claim to legitimacy. Furay, who sang and played rhythm guitar with the group, would appear to be the perfect choice to set the record straight. While the epic battle of wills between co-founders Stephen Stills and Neil Young continually threatened to capsize the Springfield, Furay found himself in the awkward position of peacemaker, a thankless and ultimately futile job. Informative yet refreshingly free of pedantry, the book brings back to life the buckskinned '60s without resorting to starry-eyed nostalgia-hawking. There's Something Happening Here traverses plenty of ground, commencing with the rise of folk music and its subsequent intersection with--and eventual usurpation by--rock. Along with Bob Dylan, the Beatles and the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield hastened that musical coup d'etat. The Buffalo Springfield had everything going for it. The members' keening four-part harmonies, though less polished, rivaled those of the Beatles and the Byrds. Moreover, Stills and Young were superb tunesmiths. Stills' "Bluebird" and Young's "Mr. Soul" rank among rock's finest moments. Songs like "Kind Woman" demonstrated that Furay himself was a capable writer as well. In bassist Bruce Palmer and drummer Dewey Martin, the band boasted one of pop's most versatile rhythm units. Last but not least was Buffalo Springfield's catholicity. Tangy pop, wistful country, folk, R&B and rock were all afforded equal standing in the Springfield arsenal. A LTHOUGH it is not surprising that he casts himself in a benign light, Furay has no hidden agenda--well, maybe a small one. After all, at the group's inception he was the pretty-boy frontman. Stills, the de facto Buffalo boss, was content to share guitar duties with Young and pen well- crafted vehicles for Furay. Young, a moody, often enigmatic character from the start, was even more reluctant to assume center stage, convinced that his strangled warbling was an acquired taste. Both Young and Stills confirm that Furay was a charismatic figure in performance. It wouldn't be long before Furay got unceremoniously ushered from the spotlight. A wildly successful six-week stint at the Whiskey-A-Go Go in L.A. in 1966 proved, ironically, to be the group's undoing. That first taste of fame quickly went to Stills' already swelled head. Besieged by hordes of groupies, dope and inexplicable insecurities, Young, too, went off the deep end. The troubles were intensified in the studio, where inept managers serving as producers failed to capture the group's potential on tape. The group's debut album, Buffalo Springfield , was brilliant despite subpar production. Stills' "Sit Down I Think I Love You" was arguably the most commercial offering, but it was not released as a single, which was a big mistake. When Young's brilliant but obtuse "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sang" sank without a trace, the Springfield's already fragile morale plummeted. Shortly thereafter, Stills' "For What It's Worth" supplied the hit the band so desperately sought but at incalculable cost to its ever-tenuous internal balance. Although the song was claimed as the anthem of a generation, according to Einarson and Furay, it was anathema to Young, who seemed threatened by his partner's suddenly skyrocketing popularity. This is not the only instance in which Young is painted as being every bit as egotistical as Stills. In fact, perhaps for the first time, Young is portrayed as a willful and sometimes petty-minded individual, a gifted artist whose single-minded quest for success bordered on the ruthless. Furay and Einarson go so far as to imply that Young used the band as a stepping stone to launch his own solo career. While Stills openly craved the trappings of pop stardom, Young's desire for recognition was manifested more passively; hence his repeated departures from the band. Ultimately, it was the lethal combination of inflated egos, mismanagement, ineffectual marketing and soured expectations that conspired to rip asunder America's answer to the Beatles. What with all the various reunions and album reissues from the era, There's Something Happening Here is a timely reminder that its brief existence notwithstanding, the Buffalo Springfield ranks among pop music's most prodigiously gifted groups, symbolizing rock's promise as well as its predilection for autodestruction. There's Something Happening Here: The Story of Buffalo Springfield: For What It's Worth by John Einarson and Richie Furay; Quarry Music Books; 310 pages; $15.95 paper. 1966: Buffalo Springfield Warns Us To 'Stop, Children. ' In 'For What It's Worth' The ominous words and high, lonely guitar notes of Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth," followed by the cautious line "Stop, children, what's that sound" make it a '60s anthem. It seems to sum up a mood that was permeating the country -- even though Stephen Stills wrote it about a local Los Angeles event, the "Sunset Strip Riots" of 1966. "For What It's Worth" (sometimes parenthetically knows as "Stop Hey What's That Sound") also takes a humble observer's viewpoint of a situation -- its title, which appears nowhere in the lyrics, is the equivalent of "It's just my opinion" or "Not for nothing. " -- this is one man's take on a tense scene he admits he doesn't understand. Buffalo Springfield, formed in 1966, were part of the emerging country-rock scene and also dabbled in psychedelia. The band lasted about two years, and during their brief time together, they recorded three albums and had one major hit: “For What It’s Worth,” which peaked on the Billboard Hot 100 at #7. Many listeners assumed it was about the Vietnam War, or the clashes in the streets between police and protesters. It's also been associated with the Kent State riot , in which National Guardsmen opened fire on protesters, killing four of them. But that tragic event didn't occur until 1970. Buffalo Springfield's Beginnings. In 1966, Stephen Stills and Richie Furay encountered Neil Young and Bruce Palmer, who were driving a hearse on the Sunset Strip. Within weeks, Dewey Martin had joined them on drums and Buffalo Springfield was formed. They started playing gigs on the Strip. The group became the house band at Whisky a Go Go and Atco signed them to a four-record deal. “For What It’s Worth” became a sort of anti-war anthem in the ‘60s. Because the lyrics are open to interpretation, the song can be applied to many situations of unrest. While it was about conflict, it was not written about the Vietnam War . Where The Title Came From. Stephen Stills wrote “For What It’s Worth” in 1966. As Richie Furay, the guitarist for Buffalo Springfield explained, the title of the song came about when Stills, Furay, and Neil Young were playing new songs for Ahmet Ertegun, the founder of . According to, Furay, Stills said: “I have another one, for what it’s worth.” Because the title of the song appeared nowhere in the lyrics, Ertegun gave the song the parenthetical subtitle “Stop, Hey What’s That Sound.” This made the song more recognizable. Its title did not reveal its inspiration: an incident on the Sunset Strip. There’s Something Happening Here. Sunset Strip in the ‘60s was a tinderbox during a time of change. Culture and music were moving away from the Rat Pack era. Party-goers were hanging out in clubs on the Sunset Strip, getting stoned, and clogging the streets. Pandora’s Box, which opened in 1962, was one of the clubs specifically catering to the teenagers, who, according to a 1965 county ordinance, were now permitted to dance in public eating places unaccompanied by an adult. In 1966, there were about 25 clubs playing live music nightly, and people moved from club to club, frequenting more “adult” entertainment at the end of the night. The numbers of clubgoers on the Sunset Strip had increased substantially, which annoyed local residents and upscale business owners, causing them to complain about the hippies who loitered, spent no money at the high-end shops, and drove away the clientele. Additionally, a contingent wanted to turn the Strip into a financial district, and the counter-cultural crowds detracted from their plans. This led the LAPD to target the teenagers, instituting a 10 pm curfew for anyone under 18. What it is Ain’t Exactly Clear. Stephen Stills was going to listen to live music on the Sunset Strip when he encountered thousands of kids on Sunset Boulevard. The teenagers had arranged a rally outside Pandora’s Box and distributed flyers for it. A local radio station announced this peaceful protest. On Saturday, November 12, the event began peacefully with kids sitting, holding hands, and singing in the street. This stopped the traffic. Stills witnessed police arriving on the scene, wearing helmets, and walking in a column four-wide to clear the street. At about 10 p.m., the police became more aggressive with the protesters, pushing some out of the way with nightsticks. Up to 1,000 people rallied peacefully until a fight broke out for reasons unrelated to the curfew. The protesters threw objects at storefronts and vandalized a bus. Inspired by what he witnessed, Stills quickly composed the song. Buffalo Springfield performed the song at the Whisky a Go Go on Thanksgiving. The “Sunset Strip riots” lasted sporadically for days. Eventually, The nightclubs were forced to close and the teenagers took a final stand as they tried to block bulldozers that were to demolish Pandora’s Box. Ultimately, the teens backed down as the bulldozers seemed willing to crush them too.