Forever Changes - My Take

Guy's post on Forever Changes got me thinking about my own history with the album, so much so that I decided to write my own post on it. I was a junior in High School when I first learned about Forever Changes from a well-worn copy of The New Rolling Stone Record Guide. In his five-star review of the album, Dave Marsh described Forever Changes as an "indescribably essential…soundtrack to an LSD movie." That sounded like something I should hear.

Unlike Guy, I didn't feel let down when I initially heard the album, but that could be because I was predisposed to like it by all the positive press I had read in advance. Also, I was already a fan of neo-psychedelic acts like Echo and the Bunnymen, The Teardrop Explodes, Robyn Hitchcock, and others on whom Forever Changes had been a catalyzing influence, so I had some context in which to understand the album.

That is not to say that everything about Forever Changes went down easily for me. I had been at least partly indoctrinated into the ideology of punk rock, and had developed a healthy distrust of anything that came out of the sixties. It struck me as vaguely pathetic that so many of my peers listened to nothing but "classic rock" while ignoring the indie rock bands I was devoted to. But I reserved my most severe judgments for those 60s rock acts that had the audacity to stick around into the 80s in order to tell the kids how much cooler everything was back in the 60s. I vividly remember once wiping a giant booger on a Starship CD at a record store, and justifying my obnoxious behavior by saying "anyone who buys that crap gets what they deserve." I was quite the young charmer.

Tracking down a copy of Forever Changes wasn't as easy as it should have been. None of the record stores in my area stocked it. I found a copy of Rhino's Best Of Love compilation at Tower Records in Washington D.C., and later an Elektra repressing of Forever Changes by special order. The first two Love albums were much harder to track down, but eventually I found servicable used copies of them as well.

Forever Changes had a huge effect on me. I spent hours transcribing the lyrics, then studying and attempting to interpret them much in the way I was being taught to interpret poems in my English Literature classes. The novel construction of the songs floored me. I was especially impressed with the way Lee used the anticipated but absent last word of a rhyming couplet to begin a subsequent line in "Maybe The People Would Be The Times Or Between Clark And Hilldale" and the double tracking of contradictory lyrics on the "The Red Telephone." Despite lyrics like "the snot has caked against my pants, it has turned into crystal," it was clear to me that there was more than a bunch of drugged out, hippy nonsense going on here.

The syrupy strings and the mariachi flavored horns that wouldn't have sounded out of place on Whipped Cream and Other Delights didn't phase me (although it did freak me out a little bit when I heard Johnny Mathis on the radio and thought it was a lost Forever Changes outtake). I probably figured the easy-listening influence was subversive or ironic, or something. The thought that maybe Herb Alpert's music was cooler than I was willing to admit didn't cross my mind at the time.

I eagerly re-purchased the album when it was first released on CD in the late 80s. I looked forward to hearing the album's lush string arrangements in "master-tape quality" on a medium that would provide "perfect sound forever." Now that was a disappointment! The CD had a loud 10 kHz "buzz" throughout the entire program that made it unlistenable. When I asked the record store owner what was wrong with the CD he told me that the buzz was a flaw on the master tapes, only you couldn't hear it on LP because the medium wasn't "resolving" enough. Even at 18 I wasn't going to fall for that. Fortunately Rhino did a much better job with their recent expanded, remastered edition, and the Sundazed vinyl re-issue is nearly the equal of an original LP pressing. Either is a very good way to experience the album.

Forever Changes is the quintessential "lost classic," never mind that it has been rediscovered enough times that it probably should be awarded gold record status. Its musical influence has been huge, even if no one ever created anything quite like it again.

But setting aside questions of musical influence, Lee's career would have a profound effect on future generations of musicians in a way that is rarely acknowledged. Elektra president Jac Holzman once famously said of Lee:

"Arthur was, and perhaps still is, one of the smartest, most intelligent, and finest musicians I have ever met in my entire career of making records. As large as his talent, however, was his penchant for isolation and not doing what was necessary to bring his music to the audience. His isolation cost him a career. Which was a shame, because he was one of the few geniuses I have met—in all of rock 'n' rolldom."

Thus, Lee's career became the model for any number of indie-rockers who mistakenly believe that sabotaging one's career and reluctance (or inability) to cultivate a mass audience is proof of musical genius. Fortunately, Lee left behind some great music as legacy.

New Contributer Alert

Thanks to our new contributer, Guy, who wrote the fantastic essay on Forever Changes below. Forever Changes has long been one of my favorite albums, and reading Guy's essay brought back my own memories of searching for the album. It's hard to believe this classic album was once hard to find; today it is available as an expanded CD from Rhino, and on LP from Sundazed.

Forever Changes

“They’re locking them up today.
They’re throwing away the key.
I wonder who it’ll be tomorrow, you or me?”

Years ago, I attended a record swap meet with the intention of acquiring copies of MC5’s Kick Out The Jams (then out of print) and Love’s Forever Changes. First, a bit of background – my adolescence consisted of haunting groove bazaars and bending the ears of long suffering merchants about the very nature of "cool music." Copies of Raw Power, Too Much Too Soon and White Light/White Heat were mustered. Inquiries concerning The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, The Gants, The Amboy Dukes, The Fugs and – of course – Love ensued.

The extremely freaky gent at the specialty booth sported a caftan and a graying Prince Valiant 'do. Although he had not seen a gatefold copy of Kick Out The Jams in several months, he assured me that it was, in fact, "cool." He did have, however, on the premises, several unopened copies of Forever Changes ("really cool") with which he would be willing to part. I had heard Love’s roiling "7 And 7 Is" and "My Little Red Book" on Rhino’s Nuggets reissues. Attracted to their Stone-d rancor, and by the conventional wisdom that Forever Changes was Love's masterpiece, I pegged the disc to be a punky brawl – one that spilled out of the garage into the street.

Immediately upon returning to HQ, I slapped my New Favorite Record onto the turntable.

Ahem…

It didn’t Rock. Not even in the very slightest. The GaragePunkSound was nowhere to he heard. Strings and frills fluttered, voices sighed, mild-mannered trumpets subtly trilled and the meek (not Joe Meek, either) inherited The Earth. Indeed, the record seemed to have a lot more in common with Les And Larry Elgart or The Tijuana Brass than it did with The Stooges. Foiled Again! After a few more half-assed listens, I swapped Forever Changes to my neighbor and its sad Muzak was marked as a scam run down on the smartypants intelligentsia. Nothing – nothing – on this platter seemed to matter.

Many years later, I was consuming a meal at The Kentucky Fried Chicken in Woonsocket. Bathed in fluorescent unholy glow, I became aware of a strange rooty toot toot sound floating over the Formica tabletops – something odd and familiar. Great Guns! The Colonel was beaming "Alone Again Or" over the speaker system. Between soporifics from The Doobie Brothers and Peter Cetera, Harlan Sanders had managed to slip a little Love. Moreover, instead of sounding slight and sugary, the music was now eerie and powerful. Such a perverse portent was unmistakable. It was necessary for me to give Forever Changes another spin.

Over the ensuing decades (!) Forever Changes has become a favorite listen. Its’ sinister sun baked vibes never fail to violate the imagination. I’m sure it holds an esteemed presence in the canon of many a hipster, most of who were equally bewildered upon initial encounter.

Forever Changes is thorny enough to dictate its own terms. It obstinately refuses to 'rock,' choosing instead to decorate its sound with oddball pops. The melodies are eccentric and the lyrics, when not obscure, are hostile. Punks find themselves at a sneering tea party where sharp chicks trade in-jokes. Those lonely fan boys who endlessly search for those extra-special girls wind up with blackened eyes and split lips. Arthur Lee was no-one’s pal. Try to follow his verses and he’ll give you headache. Attempt to speak his tongue and he’ll kick your ass. This would explain the time required for Forever Changes to work its’ weird glamour. Like Black Monk Time or Charles Laughton’s silver screen séance, Night Of The Hunter, Forever Changes demands capitulation from all. Man, that’s a scary thought.

One of the consequences of listening is the inadvertent construction of a new vocabulary. Forever Changes can serve as a template for dozens of styles of undiscovered pop – most of which lurk beyond Joe Hipster. The jaunty horns of "Maybe The People Would Be The Times Or Between Clark And Hildale," act as conduits between both Strawberries – era Damned and Burt Bacharach. "Alone Again Or" enables the Tropicalia Collages of Os Mutantes to seem less intimidating to rookies. "The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This," all crystal plink-a-plunks, has obvious precedent in the works of Nelson Riddle. Finally, those who have withstood the muted menace of "Live And Let Live" will absorb the cinemelodrama of Jimmy Webb or Scott Walker without fear.

I’ll wager there are dozens of regulars whose unsuspecting minds were blown, sooner or later, by Forever Changes. I’d also be willing to speculate that mastery of such a bizarre work allowed for experimentation with soundtracks, EZ-Listening, Jacques Brel and mariachi bands.

"By The Time That I’m Through Singing
The Bells From The School Of War Will Be Ringing
More Confusions, Blood Transfusions
The News Of Today Will Be Movies For Tomorrow
And The Water’s Turned To Blood
And If You Don’t Think So, Go Turn On Your Tub."

PS -- In 1985, an uncensored copy of Kick Out The Jams materialized in the knock-off bin at the Cumberland outpost of Ann & Hope. It went home with yours truly for $0.89. Pursuit of The Dictators Go Girl Crazy commenced forthwith.

R.I.P. Syd Barrett and Arthur Lee

The recent deaths of Syd Barrett and Arthur Lee got me thinking; who’s next? These things usually come in threes, so if I were Roky Erickson or Sky Saxon, I would probably be extra careful crossing the street over the next few weeks.

In all seriousness, I was very sad to hear the news of the passing of these two 60s rock titans. The discovery of the music of these two artists, and the mythology surrounding them, had a catalyzing effect on my taste in music. Love, Barrett and The Velvet Underground formed a sort of holy trinity for me when I was in high school. One of the things that especially bonds Lee and Barrett in my mind is the fact that after an intense period of creative genuis, neither ever created anything close to as good again (in Barrett’s case he never even recorded again). Sometimes it really is better to burn out than to fade away.

No doubt both Barrett and Lee's careers were hampered by drugs and mental illness, but one could argue their careers were made in no small part due to drugs and mental illness as well. Lee's passing is particulary sad, as after years in the wilderness (including time in jail), he finally seemed to have gotten his life back on track before he got sick.

As for Barrett, beyond his music, much of his appeal to me always laid in the mystery of his total disappearance from the public eye after releasing his two solo albums. In this interesting interview Barrett's sister claims Syd led a fairly normal life, and did not suffer from any mental illness. While such a revelation might puncture the romantic image of Barrett as a wild-eyed recluse, it should be pointed out that his sister seems to be a bit protective of him. Still it’s interesting to consider the possibility that since 1980 or so Barrett lived like a normal guy with interests in gardening and photography. It’s probably closer to the truth than the mythology his former band built up around him.