Fred Neil 12-string Guitar Hero of the 1960s
Fred Neil 12-string Guitar Hero of the 1960s
I recently got some Fred Neil albums, and have just been fascinated by them, he's Excellent! Crosby definitely picked up some style from him, no question about that. John Sebastian and David Crosby both write appreciations to Fred in the liner notes of The Many Sides of Fred Neil. Fred was making his own funky music down on the Greenwich Village scene before the Byrds started, and I have to say that so far I've enjoyed Fred Neil's 12-string sound even better than McGuinn's! Both Fred Neil and McGuinn became interested in 12-string guitars because of folk musician Bob Gibson. Fred Neil and then McGuinn were sorta the first of the new generation of 12 string players who followed in the way of Bob Gibson. Fred Neil's song "Everybody's Talkin'" was made a hit by other artists. Also, the Jefferson Airplane covered Fred Neil's "Other Side of this Life". The Jefferson Airplane also wrote a song about Fred called "The Ballad of You and Me and Pooneil". Fred's own music is just excellent, his guitar playing is funky and cool, and his voice is nice and deep and has so much tone. If you don't have any Fred Neil in your collection, definitely seek some out.
Oh yeah, that's on Crown of Creation, I almost forgot about that song. If I remember correctly, it sounded kinda similar to "The Ballad of You and Me and Pooneil" but a little more slow and menacing, like much of the Crown of Creation album itself. That's probably why I prefer After Bathing at Baxters over Crown of Creation.
Here's what David Crosby wrote about Fred Neil in the liner notes to the 2CD set The Many Sides of Fred Neil:
"When I got to the village, it was in a '57 Ford Fairlane convertible. We drove there from Boulder, Colorado in the middle of what I think was the winter of '61. The guy who owned the car thought he was going to be a writer. The girl whose name I forgot was going to be a hooker, and I was a "folksinger" with 4 or 5 coffeehouses under my belt finally going to the big city to really see life.
When I got there, the Bitter End had just become the Bitter End, and places like the Cafe Wha and Rienzla were going strong. Monday nights at the Bitter End were (I hate to say it) "Hoot Nights," and as soon as I went there I encountered this long, thin, freckled, deep-eyed man named Fred Neil.
He was sing a song called "Linin Track" in an impossibly low and resonant voice. I remember thinking how much I wished I had that beautiful deep river of sound coming out of my chest instead of the plaintive little thing I was stuck with. On top of being really, really good, he was also nice to the kid folksingers who idolized him. He showed me where to eat, where not to go, how to roll a proper joint, where to buy guitar strings. He introduced me to Vince Martin, Lisa Kindred, Terry Collier (with whom I became partners). Kevin Ryan (with whom I lived), and the man who made me love 12 strings and showed me how to play them, Bob Gibson.
He taught me that everything was music. He turned off the light in the old battered elevator in his apartment building as we were going down to hit the street and said, " Listen, the music's everywhere." The elevator's ancient cables and car went "chackata-bang-ringy-bang-chacka-whump" and we knew Freddy was right.
He did it another time in Florida with a bamboo thicket. As a matter of fact, he was the one who told me I could find work in the coffee houses that were springing up in Miami, which is what convinced Kevin and me to get on a Greyhound bus and go there, It was there also that he introduced me to my lifelong friend, Bobby Ingram. All in all he taught me a sizable chunk of what music was about, and even more about why's and wherefore's of being a musician. He was a hero to me."
~David Crosby
Here's what David Crosby wrote about Fred Neil in the liner notes to the 2CD set The Many Sides of Fred Neil:
"When I got to the village, it was in a '57 Ford Fairlane convertible. We drove there from Boulder, Colorado in the middle of what I think was the winter of '61. The guy who owned the car thought he was going to be a writer. The girl whose name I forgot was going to be a hooker, and I was a "folksinger" with 4 or 5 coffeehouses under my belt finally going to the big city to really see life.
When I got there, the Bitter End had just become the Bitter End, and places like the Cafe Wha and Rienzla were going strong. Monday nights at the Bitter End were (I hate to say it) "Hoot Nights," and as soon as I went there I encountered this long, thin, freckled, deep-eyed man named Fred Neil.
He was sing a song called "Linin Track" in an impossibly low and resonant voice. I remember thinking how much I wished I had that beautiful deep river of sound coming out of my chest instead of the plaintive little thing I was stuck with. On top of being really, really good, he was also nice to the kid folksingers who idolized him. He showed me where to eat, where not to go, how to roll a proper joint, where to buy guitar strings. He introduced me to Vince Martin, Lisa Kindred, Terry Collier (with whom I became partners). Kevin Ryan (with whom I lived), and the man who made me love 12 strings and showed me how to play them, Bob Gibson.
He taught me that everything was music. He turned off the light in the old battered elevator in his apartment building as we were going down to hit the street and said, " Listen, the music's everywhere." The elevator's ancient cables and car went "chackata-bang-ringy-bang-chacka-whump" and we knew Freddy was right.
He did it another time in Florida with a bamboo thicket. As a matter of fact, he was the one who told me I could find work in the coffee houses that were springing up in Miami, which is what convinced Kevin and me to get on a Greyhound bus and go there, It was there also that he introduced me to my lifelong friend, Bobby Ingram. All in all he taught me a sizable chunk of what music was about, and even more about why's and wherefore's of being a musician. He was a hero to me."
~David Crosby