“60 Years On…” 06-19-25 playlist Hr.1
Peter Frampton – Introduction/Something’s Happening (Live ’75)
Peter Frampton – Doobie Wah (Live ’75)
Peter Frampton – Lines On My Face (Live ’75)
Peter Frampton – It’s A Plain Shame (Live ’75)
Peter Frampton – I’ll Give You Money (Live ’75)
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Nutbush City Limits (Live ’75)
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Bo Diddley (Live ’75)
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man (Live ’75)
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Katmandu (Live ’75)
Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Get Out Of Denver (Live ’75)
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Peter Frampton: Guitar god,
or worthless wanker?
July 2000 By G. Gone
This month’s question comes from
Bill J. in Chicago, IL. Bill writes:
Dear 70’s Guy,
All I ever hear about Peter Frampton is how great he
was, what with Frampton Comes Alive in ’76 being the
watermark of best selling live albums ever, and all. But
c’mon, all I’ve ever heard by the guy is the over-long and
over-bloated guitar wankings of “Do You Feel Like We
Do,” the formula-matic “Show Me The Way,” and the
mushy, gushy “All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side).”
Other than that, he played guitar early in the 70s with
Humble Pie (known for their one big hit [it reached #73
on the charts] “I Don’t Need No Doctor”) then went off
on his own to record 4 mediocre lp’s (Wind Of Change,
Frampton’s Camel, Somethin’s Happening, and
Frampton). Next, the phenom of Frampton Comes Alive
and then he cacks in ’77 with I’m In You, a bestseller due
to the lead-in and strength of Frampton Comes Alive (and
over a year touring to support it alone). It sucked, his
starring role in the Sgt. Pepper movie sucked and then he
drops into relative obscurity for the past 25 years. Along
the way he still tours, records and puts out mediocre
albums, most notably Frampton Comes Alive II and the
recently released Live in Detroit, but he’s never “pitched
another shutout” (and music fans give thanks) since. So,
my question is:
Does Peter Frampton suck, and why?
Dear Bill,
Thank you for your well thought out and insightful
question–did you like how we edited it for maximum effect?
You have posed a 2-part question; part 1: “Does Peter
Frampton suck?” The answer is a simple no.
Part 2: “and why?” should read “and why not?” and it goes
like this…
Peter Frampton does not suck because he can play a mean
guitar. When he was on, live, in front of an audience, up on
stage, in the arena, Peter Frampton played guitar like a god.
This “phenom” as you put it is what happened when
everything was in the right place at the right time, a
convergence of the gods (the music gods) if you will.
First, let’s go with your baseball analogy; in baseball, a
middle reliever is a mediocre pitcher with great stuff, but
limited over the course of time. Thus, he can give you some
great innings, but can’t sustain it enough to give you a great
game.
Peter Frampton was the rock ‘n’ roll equivalent of a middle
reliever. In the studio he gives you a hit or miss performance,
but when he was on, he was on–throwing the high heat over
the plate with ease, able to ace ya with the slow slider, or
even a change-up every once in a while. But he never could
sustain that greatness and balance over the course of a
whole album.
My guess is that some A&R man for A&M Records was
assigned to cover Frampton on his tours (probably for
general shit like making sure each hotel room was of proper
cost to the record co. and balancing the expense account so
that it wasn’t abused by this mediocre talent that after 4 LPs
hasn’t yet sold enough to make us money and we’re
considering releasing him soon_). So, this A&R guy is going
to concert after concert on the tour(s) and he realizes
something. When Frampton (the pitcher) gets on stage (the
mound) and lets the rock ‘n’ roll (the game) take complete
control over the music and the man–well, that, Bill, that is
when “Frampton Comes Alive.”
He saw it, he heard it, and he felt it. Frampton wailing on his
electric guitar like a madman (the high heat), Frampton
strumming the acoustic with passion (the slow slider), and
Frampton grooving, laying down a danceable rhythm and
funk (the change up). He saw him on his game. On stage
Frampton wowed ’em, mowed them down, struck out both
sides, male & female.
In the mid 70s, guitar wanking ruled. The boys loved guitar
wanking. You got wasted, cranked up the 8-Track (fed
through the power amp and into the Jensen quad speakers
that you and all your buddies installed in your car), strapped
on the air guitar, and you wailed along. The girls loved
Frampton because of his cute looks and boyish charm, his
“Honest, sincere lyrics” (yeah right) and of course the
shoulder length golden locks and warm tender vocals. He
made them swoon. He was a sex symbol.
This was the true definition of “cock rock” before all the 80s
hair bands took that definition and changed it to fit the
biker/drugs/orgy image. Cock rock was born in the mid 70s
with Peter Frampton, because it drew the attention of both
sexes based on the power of rock and cock. A Frampton
concert was a celebration of male testosterone shooting out
of control aided by the party atmosphere of beer drinking and
pot smoking with the added advantage of actually having
females–gushing “hold-me-in-your-arms-and-kiss-me”
females–right by your side (something usually reserved for
the “relationship friendly” bands like Bread, etc.).
It all came together (Males, Females, and Rock) as the 70s
generation were willing to lose themselves in the music. (This
is also partly to blame for the progressive/art rock movement
that was making inroads on the sub/consciousness of
rebellious teens who figured that they wanted to rebel in a
more controlled laid back (laissez faire–the true birth of the
slacker–but that’s another column) manner. Thus, in part
giving birth to the punk movement several years later. We
were fucked up and didn’t know which musical direction to
focus on at the time (throw in disco, and you had a virtual
cornucopia of musical rebellion/confusion within a 4-6 year
period) — and Frampton rocked.
Frampton rocked the mid-70s, and unless you were there to
live it, to feel it, to experience and understand it, well then, I
don’t expect you to really understand it today. I myself when
listening to Frampton Comes Alive for this column (it was the
first time on the turntable in at least 20 years) could feel right
away the lumbering old bones of a rock dinosaur. I
almost–almost–went out and bought the new Live In Detroit
CD (again, for this column) in an effort to see if he actually
does hold up in this day and age–but naah. I decided against
it due to the fact that, well, he’s a DINOSAUR and I really
have no interest. But in the 70s, our parties were held at the
rock shows in the arenas, and he brought as many girls out to
the parties as he did guys, and that my friend is what it was
all about–and, oh yeah, he could wail…
So, my take has this mythical A&R guy seeing all this and
seeing a LOT of MONEY. He saw the youth rallying around
each other for the music, he saw a new culture of teens who
wanted to lose themselves in the music for the music, not for
the political ramifications of the lyrics calling to arms and
trying to change governmental policies and control, or the
mind-inspiring writing of a song as a whole, but to lose
themselves in a good time with each other, for all they had
was each other and the music, because except for the here
and now there were no guarantees.
So, this A&R man made a highlight reel. A highlight reel that
turned mediocre middle reliever Peter Frampton into the Cy
Young of Rock. Every time Frampton Comes Alive was spun
on the turntable, slapped into the 8-Track, or broadcast over
the airwaves, Peter Frampton pitched a shutout. That A&R
guy from A&M Records took every high heat, slow slider, and
change up that had mowed ’em down, and struck ’em out in
the arenas (where the “lost” generation would congregate to
throw down a party/buzz without the pressures or presence of
the outside grownup real world), neatly packaged them and
gave them to us so that anytime we wanted, we could
achieve the arena bliss we had grown so fond of. And it
worked, breaking every sales record of the time. You couldn’t
go anywhere without Frampton Comes Alive blasting out of
the closest set of speakers. Yes, this was great music for that
time, but understand, “for that time.” I do suggest you try it, if
just once–throw down a party/buzz, give Frampton Comes
Alive a spin, and dig it.
From That 70’s Guy’s point of view, it’s worth it, if only for the
following: Bob Mayo (Guitar, Vocals, Fender Rhodes Piano,
Organ and Grand Piano), Stanley Sheldon (Bass Guitar,
vocals), and John Siomos (Drums) compliment Peter
Frampton (Guitars, vocals and Talkbox) perfectly. These guys
simply smoke together. Album highlights (I know, the whole
album is made up of highlights, these are the best of the
best):
“Doobie Wah”: A funk fest extraordinaire with Frampton
wailing in front of one of the hottest bass and keyboard runs
this side of Sly and the Family Stone. This is wanking, This Is
Fuckin’ Wanking to the most extreme guitar wanking god.
Trust me, rock never felt so good, Smile.
“It’s A Plain Shame”: Blistering! I keep getting drawn into the
guitar intensity of Frampton.
“I Want To Go To The Sun”: Wails, WaiLs, And WAILS!!
Funkengroovin.
“Lines On My Face”: Lifts you with guitar onto a
transcendental plain that just has you smiling with the good
time had by all as you get lost in a musical odyssey as worthy
of early Santana/Traffic as any.
“Do You Feel Like We Do”: All the overblown, overlong guitar
wanking does capture you on and off, but the most potent
part is when Frampton gets on the talkbox (a device where
the guitar sound is fed through a tube which is placed in his
mouth allowing him to manipulate the sound produced from
the guitar by opening and closing his mouth and forming
words from the sounds). After some normal reciting of the
lyrics, mainly the title, Frampton makes a sincere gesture by
saying (in guitar/voice vocal sound) “I want to thank you.”
Every girl I knew thought he was saying, “I want to fuck you,”
and they loved it.
Cameron Crowe (then contributing editor of Rolling Stone)
wrote in the liner notes, “Frampton Comes Alive is much
more than a souvenir. It is a testimony to Peter Frampton in
his natural habitat.” No and yes. 25 years later it is a
souvenir, but an important one.
If you want to understand the 70s you must study Frampton
Comes Alive. It will give you the insight of just where
everything was and where it could/would go as the decade
wore on, but for a brief moment in time Peter Frampton was
the MVP of A&M Records, he won the pennant. A title he
wore with grace and dignity as he tried to remain loyal to his
convictions. Unfortunately, he became a victim of the
corporate structure of greed. The moneymaking machine
rushed him into the studio for a follow up (and into the
movies, but we won’t get into the Sgt. Pepper debacle here)
and under pressure (and off the stage) Peter Frampton
couldn’t produce a LP of hits worthy of the Frampton Comes
Alive legacy. Peter Frampton was never the staff ace, and to
ask him to deliver a perfect game following his shut out–well,
he crumbled, and how can you blame him. I’m In You
might’ve been a no-hitter for A&M, racking up impressive
numbers in sales, but to the fans–the partying, arena rocking
teens that Frampton had been mowing down with guitar god
licks–it was a NO-HITter. After that embarrassment, the fans
(and the record co.) looked elsewhere to get off on music,
and Frampton, without their support continued on in relative
obscurity. But…
No one will ever take that pennant away from him, for it will
always be on display in that highlight reel know as Frampton
Comes Alive.
Trust me on this one. I was there.
- G.Gone
