Oct. 3, 1970: Eric Andersen interview

 

One of my perks as a newly-minted music writer was getting to chat with some of my favorites. Here’s the first of them – singer-songwriter Eric Andersen, who grew up in suburban Snyder and whom I admired since I was a folkie. I caught him in concert back in 1967, opening for the Blues Project in Floral Hall in Dunkirk.

Despite his optimism here, 1970 was a low point for Eric. He continued to look like someone out of Edgar Allan Poe in photos with Janis Joplin that summer on the Festival Express train, where the collective level of inebriation was legendary. The song he talks about recording with the pop producer flopped as a single and never reappeared elsewhere. The deal with Warner Bros. ran out. It took until 1972 before he could enjoy a rebound. Signed with Columbia by then, that was the year of “Blue River,” his most successful album. 

Oct. 3, 1970 

Happy Folk Singer –

‘Sittin’ in the Sunshine’ 

Being an old Eric Andersen fan (since 1964), I got to wondering if fate hasn’t been rolling a few bummers lately for the singer-composer from Amherst.

First there was his last Vanguard album, “A Country Dream,” on which he looked like somebody out of Edgar Allan Poe. Really wasted.

Next, for his most recent Warner Bros. LP, the ads said something like: “Anybody who looks this good has to sound good too.”

And now there’s a letter from a New York City press agent who says Eric “recently cut several 45s with Bobby Sherman’s producer and arranger, Jackie Mills and Al Capps, and intends to move from the more folk sound over to a pop one.”

* * *

SINCE ERIC is coming to town for a free concert tomorrow, it seemed like a good time to call him in Venice, Calif., and see just WHAT is happening.

The concert, incidentally, also features Biff Rose, Dave Van Ronk, Bert Sommer and Gold, a local folk group which has risen recently at The Limelight. It all starts at 1 p.m. outdoors next to the Buffalo State University College gym.

Eric sounds really happy on the phone. He explains the album cover: “A doctor gave me a flu shot and hit my sciatic nerve. I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep. The day after that picture I went into the hospital and stayed three weeks.” And the ad: “It was stupid. I’m very mad at the people who did it.”

But since spring, things have been getting better. First, after five years in New York City, he and his wife, Deborah (the Deborah he sings about), loaded up a station wagon and took a long, leisurely trip west.

They wound up in Venice, the old beatnik and artist colony, just a 10-minute walk from the ocean.

* * *

IN JULY, ERIC rode the Canadian Festival Express train from Montreal to Calgary, wrote a song on board and acquired three standing ovations and a tolerance for tequila.

Soon after that, Deborah gave birth to their first child – Sarah – with Eric standing by in the delivery room of the only Los Angeles hospital which presently accommodates the LaMaze natural childbirth method.

Next, Eric was singing at The Troubadour in Los Angeles when Jackie Mills came around one night and talked about producing a record. The idea of a Top 40 record appealed to Eric.

“The point isn’t that you’re going popular,” he says. “It’s a matter of communications. It means people are going to HEAR you. Nobody was listening to Otis Redding until ‘Dock of the Bay.’ A hit record does a lot of nice things like that.”

The single was released Wednesday. One side is Eric’s “Sunshine and Flowers,” with a chorus of kids from his neighborhood in Venice, and the other side is “Sittin’ in the Sunshine,” which was written by Carole King – who wrote “Hi-De-Ho” and played piano on the last James Taylor album.

* * *

“I’M SO HAPPY with the way Mills produces,” Eric adds. “I could do it myself, but it’s so laborious and painstaking. This way I wasn’t worrying about who’s playing what. I just relaxed and concentrated on singing.”

Another break came after Eric was interviewed by the New York Post. Bill O’Connell, an enthusiastic, 20-year-old publicist, came around and offered his services free. It was Bill who wrote the letter about Eric.

Tomorrow Eric will appear solo, playing guitar and piano, doing old songs, new songs, a few other people’s songs. Andy Johnson, who used to accompany him on guitar, split last spring to form a group. Erie decided that looking for another guitarist just wasn’t worth the hassle.

“At first, I’d be playing and come to one of Andy’s breaks and wow,” Eric exclaims. “But I worked on guitar a little more and I can make the music breathe more now. I don’t have to worry about messing up someone else on tempo or changes.”

Despite his bright outlook, Eric vows that he’s “not into a star trip.”

“I’ve seen too many friends become stars and not get what they want,” he says. “It takes away your privacy and puts you into false situations.”

* * *

“AS AN ARTIST, I’m more of a private person. I treasure my freedom. Mainly, I’d just like to communicate with people. I can’t see much difference between now and what I was doing before.

“I see myself as multiphrenic. That’s a term for like a Renaissance man. I think I have a capacity to deal with all kinds of phrenias. You ever read Ezra Pound? He said the further words get from music and the further music gets from dance, the more poetry diminishes.

“There was a time when they were all together – poetry, music and dancing – like with Shakespeare. And it’s getting that way again. Music today can reach you in the heart, the mind and the gut. It’s a beautiful time to be writing.”