Tag: 1975

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Gary Thain 12/1975

gary thainDecember 8, 1975 – Gary Thain  was born on May 15, 1948 in Christchurch, New Zealand. As part of the rock trio The New Nadir, with drummer Peter Dawkins, he traveled from New Zealand to London, sometime in 1967. He actually jammed with Hendrix a couple of time in London in Hendrix’ early fame years.

Thain then joined the Keef Hartley Band and recorded 5 albums with Hartley on drums. In 1971 they toured with hard rockers Uriah Heep who then asked him to join them, replacing Mark Clarke.

He played on the four studio albums: Demons & Wizards, The Magician’s Birthday, Sweet Freedom and Wonderworld as well as the live album Uriah Heep Live and traveled extensively in those top years.

Following bio comes from his website, which remarkably and admirably is still live 40 years after his passing.

Gary Thain had 2 older brothers, Colin and Arthur. An old school friend describes Gary’s personality as being quiet, maybe broody even, but also as just your average teenager, with a passion for music. Gary went to a catholic school called Xavier College in Christchurch.

He started performing around age 13. Gary also won a singing contest in his High School with the song “Where Have all the Flowers Gone”.   The official start to his career was with the New Zealand group “The Strangers”. Besides his brother Arthur (vocals and lead guitar), the other members were Graeme Ching (Rhytm Guitar) and Dave Beattie (Drums). Gary wrote his first (released) song “I’ll Never be Blue” with The Strangers in 1965 at age 16. “The Strangers” released 3 Singles.

After “The Strangers” split up, at age 17 Gary moved to Australia. Gary became part of “The Secrets”, but they only released one Single in 1966, with “You’re Wrong” on the B-Side, which was co-written by Gary. The other band members were Derek Wright on Lead Guitar and Vocals, Paul Muggleston on Rhythm Guitar and Vocals, Wayne Allen on Drums.

After their one Single, “The Secrets” split up. It was still 1966 when Gary and Paul joined up with Peter Dawkins and Dave Chapman, taking the name “Me and the Others“ to the UK, touring England, Scotland, Wales and Germany.

In 1967 after “Me and the Others” ceased to exist, Gary became part of his first professional Band called “New Nadir”. They were especially popular in Switzerland, where they played in a lot of clubs for about half a year.  It was a trio that played Jazz influenced music.  The other members were Ed Carter on guitar and a drummer named Mike Kowalski.  Besides playing their own music, they also worked as a backing band for an all-female group called “The Toys”.  New Nadir recorded an album for the “Witchseason” label, but it was never released.

In 1968 New Nadir dissolved and Mike and Ed have since then played in many bands together, and even were part of the Beach Boys backing band.  Gary of course joined the Keef Hartley Band. Not only did Gary play on 6 of their albums, but he got to be part of Woodstock in 1969 with the Keef Hartley Band. They played on the second day (before Santana). However, there is no Video footage available.

Another Festival worth mentioning (even though much smaller scale) was the Bath Blues Festival held on June 28, 1969 . The KHB played along with the Likes of Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac that day in front of an audience of about 40,000.

Another notable contribution by Gary to the KHB were his Head Arrangements of the tracks on “The Time Is Near” (originally released in 1970, re-mastered 2005). One of the pictures on the liner notes from that recording session shows Gary with an Acoustic Guitar. He also co-wrote most of the material on “The Battle of NW6”.

Not only did Gary co-write a lot of material for the KHB, he also sang lead vocals to one of his compositions: “You say you’re together now”. That song can be found on the “72nd Brave” LP released in 1972.

Keef Hartley, Miller Anderson, and Gary Thain were the core trio of the Keef Hartley Band, who complimented each other well even through all the different members that came and went. But when they lost their frontman and main song writer Miller Anderson to other interests, they each went on to other projects.

Before the Keef Hartley Band dissolved in 1972, Gary also did some other recordings. In 1970 he recorded “Fiends and Angels” with Martha Velez. Some other, now well-known names from that recording session, are Eric Clapton and Christine McVie.  The music style on that recording has been described as British Progressive Blues and Martha’s singing has been compared to somewhat of a Janis Joplin type of voice.  It was originally released on the “Blue Horizon” label in the UK.  That version is very collectible nowadays and expensive to obtain.  There is a less expensive US version available.

Miller Anderson and Pete York, two members of the KHB revolving lineup, also ventured into solo projects during that time period. Gary was part of both of them, in 1971 and 1972, respectively.

Early in 1972, Gary received a phone call from Ken Hensley and joined Uriah Heep as their 3rd bass player (replacing Mark Clarke) – the rest is as they say history. Up until now Gary had only played Jazz and Blues material, and now found himself in a totally different genre. However, his playing style stayed unique – using no plectrum and all his fingers.

Heep was touring the USA at the time, Gary flew in to join the band and practiced the material he had to perform for several weeks. Gary’s first gig with Uriah Heep was on February 1, 1972 at the Whiskey A Go-Go in Los Angeles, California. However, the earliest known Heep recording with Gary in the lineup (Bootleg) is either from Feb 27, 1972 (Columbia Coliseum, South Carolina, USA) or a Youngstown, Ohio, (USA) appearance. The latter was a support performance (Bootleg) for the Band “Cactus” sometime in February of 1972.

The first album that Gary recorded with Uriah Heep was “Demons & Wizards” (released May 1972), only 4 months after he joined Heep. “The Magician’s Birthday” followed later that same year, and by that time Gary co-wrote some of the songs (Spider Woman and Sweet Lorraine). The remastered edition (released 2003) also includes “Crystal Ball” and “Gary’s Song”, which he wrote during that time. (Gary’s Song being an alternate version of Crystal Ball). All in all it was a very successful year for Uriah Heep and Gary alike.

Of course Gary also toured with Uriah Heep almost non-stop. In the beginning of 1973 the first collection of some of those touring efforts was released, aptly titled “Uriah Heep Live 1973”. One of the points worth mentioning is the excerpt of their Rock ‘N Roll Medley endings. It shows Gary’s skill of using the 50’s and R ‘n R Bass lines that he had so diligently learned early on in his career.

An interesting story that occured while on tour as being told by Todd Fisher (crew member):

Gary’s playing style on his Fender Precision Bass and choice of flat-wound strings made for a distinct sound. He never used a plectrum (pick), preferring to use his thumb, the result being a very pure bass sound without the harsh “attack” sound and harmonics that would normally result from using a pick. Studying Gary’s face and body motions during a performance would reveal a very intense focus on his part for the particular song being performed. I can’t state from personal observation that there were nights when he might be so impaired from drink or drug that the performance was compromised, although I seem to recall some admonishment being administered more than once.

The point is primarily that he was incredibly intense in his playing style and this was never exemplified to me more than the performance at Salem, Oregon the night of Friday, March 9, 1972. As the person responsible for introducing the band as well as working the fans up for the encore, I had a very unique vantage point to measure the crowds acceptance or rejection of the nights performance. And collectively speaking, the Pacific Northwest was never an overly enthusiastic crowd for Heep.

But for some reason this particular night was one in which Gary seemed significantly more animated than most performances. Only his soul will truly know why. Why would I make this observation, you ask? It’s because I have the notation “Ethyl Chloride” noted in my weekly planner for Monday, March 12 as part of the equipment and supply requirements for preparation of the Japan tour.

Just after Kens and Lees respective solos at the intermezzo portion of the set, Gary winced in an expression of pain that I instantly recognized. As I watched, I noticed him favouring his “pick” thumb and substituting the side of his index finger. After the number he came over to the side of the stage and asked in that raspy, back-of-the-throat New Zealand accented voice.: “Do you have an adhesive bandage?” I quickly grabbed some Band Aids from my open brief case and, as he held out this terribly bloody thumb, I saw that he had torn off the callous built up from many years of playing without a plectrum. I quickly grabbed a clean towel, courtesy of our hotel, poured some fresh water on it, washed the open wound, and quickly wrapped two Band Aids around his thumb. This was accomplished in perhaps two minutes, during which Ken, Mick, and David stalled the set while I attended to the apparent emergency.

Gary continued to play through the set, perhaps not in as great pain as before, but still noticeably subdued. Mel Baister (Road Manager) contacted a physician by the end of the set who had arrived along with an aerosol can of a local anesthetic, “Ethyl Chloride” which was intended to give temporary relief for pain. He gave me a prescription for a refill that would get us through the period of the Japan tour. Thus the notation in my supplies list.

The following evening was our last performance in the U.S. prior to departing for Japan. It was in Seattle at one of the old Downtown theatres as I remember. Gary was able to get through at least one number, sometimes two before he would come over to me on the side of the stage to have me spray the open wound with Ethyl Chloride. Damn! The man wouldnt even let me tape it for him because he felt it would change his sound! Only he would know. We performed six days later in Tokyo Friday March 16, Nagoya on March 17 and March 19, and twice in Osaka March 20 and 21. Time had helped heal the wound since he had not punished himself with additional performances, but we still applied the Ethyl Chloride. After the Japan tour, the band spent a one week holiday in Hawaii. Our next performance was in Long Beach Arena on Friday March 30. Noted in my journal for this day among other supplies and tasks is “Ethyl Chloride”! WOW!

The band’s success story continued with the recording of “Sweet Freedom” at the Chateau D’Herouville, France in the summer of 1973. Gary’s song-writing input continued, especially on the song “Circus”. The story of the song “Circus” is still remembered by guitarist Mick Box today: “I wrote this with Gary in LA at the Continental Hyatt House. In France we finished it; the whole studio was in dark and you could only see a few lights. Gary was at the one end of the room and I was at the other. We didn’t speak a word to each other and finished the song this way. It was very spiritual.”. Even drummer Lee Kerslake remembers it with a quote on the Acoustically Driven DVD liner notes:: “I like Circus because it was written in the most unusual circumstances with myself, Mick and Gary Thain, God rest his soul, writing by telephone!”

Unfortunately, 1974 saw the last recording contributions of Gary on “Wonderworld” which was recorded in Munich, Germany. He is also being credited with co-writing half the songs on that original release. The seemingly endless touring continued, and eventually took its toll on  September 15, 1974 in Dallas, TX. [listen to a promo of that concert from KZEW FM radio here.]  Gary received an electrical shock during the song “July Morning”, while on stage.

Gary’s health never fully recovered and in January of 1975 he had to leave the band. The very last known recording with Gary on Bass is dated November 25, 1974 and took place in Brisbane, Australia. I found some very interesting comments on that Bootleg on the official David Byron website, and I quote: “This is one of the best audience recordings of the band ever to surface. Not due to the sound quality, but the contents itself. The band was very strong on this date, the crowd really reacted to the show, and it provided some rare pieces of the puzzle we were looking for. A good bit of improve is laid into this one, lots of talking between tracks and long renditions of certain tracks that didn’t appear much on other shows. … Only three tour dates are listed after this one before he (Gary) left the band in late January 75. So this show marks the end of an era of sorts, the classic lineup is done. The rebuilding process begins but it never regains the same intensity or presence that was created during the past three years. It’s a sad but true fact that even the most dedicated of Heepster must accept.”

All in all, he participated in over 140 live performances all over the world with Uriah Heep in just 3 years.

After continued struggles with health and drug problems, Gary died December 8, 1975, in his flat at Norwood Green at the young age of 27, becoming one of the lesser known 27 Club members.

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Tim Buckley 6/1975

tim-buckleyJune 29, 1975 – Timothy Charles “Tim” Buckley III was born on February 14, 1947 in Washington DC. By the time he had graduated high school he had already written over twenty songs with lyricist Larry Beckett; and many of these made up a large portion of his debut album. “Buzzin’ Fly“, also written during this period, were later featured his 1969 LP Happy Sad. He often regarded his voice as an instrument, a talent principally showcased on his albums Goodbye and Hello, Lorca, and Starsailor.

“He continually took chances with his life. He’d drive like a maniac, risking accidents. For a couple of years he drank a lot and took downers to the point where it nearly killed him, but he’d always escape. Then he got into this romantic heroin-taking thing and his luck ran out.”

Tim was also the father of Jeff Buckley who became a well-known musician in his own right, before he accidentally drowned in 1997.

One of the great rock vocalists of the 1960s, Tim Buckley drew from folk, psychedelic rock, and progressive jazz to create a considerable body of adventurous work in his brief lifetime. His multi-octave range was capable of not just astonishing power, but great emotional expressiveness, swooping from sorrowful tenderness to anguished wailing. His restless quest for new territory worked against him commercially: By the time his fans had hooked into his latest album, he was onto something else entirely, both live and in the studio. In this sense he recalled artists such as Miles Davis and David Bowie, who were so eager to look forward and change that they confused and even angered listeners who wanted more stylistic consistency. However, his eclecticism has also ensured a durable fascination with his work that has engendered a growing posthumous cult for his music, often with listeners who were too young (or not around) to appreciate his music while he was active.

Buckley emerged from the same ’60s Orange County, CA, folk scene that spawned Jackson Browne and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Mothers of Invention drummer Jimmy Carl Black introduced Buckley and a couple of musicians Buckley was playing with to the Mothers’ manager, Herbie Cohen. Although Cohen may have first been interested in Buckley as a songwriter, he realized after hearing some demos that Buckley was also a diamond in the rough as a singer. Cohen became Buckley’s manager, and helped the singer get a deal with Elektra.

Before Buckley had reached his 20th birthday, he’d released his debut album. The slightly fey but enormously promising effort highlighted his soaring melodies and romantic, opaque lyrics. Baroque psychedelia was the order of the day for many Elektra releases of the time, and Buckley’s early folk-rock albums were embellished with important contributions from musicians Lee Underwood (guitar), Van Dyke Parks (keyboards), Jim Fielder (bass), and Jerry Yester. Larry Beckett was also an overlooked contributor to Buckley’s first two albums, co-writing many of the songs.

Goodbye and Hello

The fragile, melancholic, orchestrated beauty of the material had an innocent quality that was dampened only slightly on the second LP, Goodbye and Hello (1967). Buckley’s songs and arrangements became more ambitious and psychedelic, particularly on the lengthy title track. This was also his only album to reach the Top 200, where it only peaked at number 171; Buckley was always an artist who found his primary constituency among the underground, even for his most accessible efforts. His third album, Happy Sad, found him going in a decidedly jazzier direction in both his vocalizing and his instrumentation, introducing congas and vibes. Though it seemed a retreat from commercial considerations at the time, Happy Sad actually concluded the triumvirate of recordings that are judged to be his most accessible.

Dream Letter: Live in London 1968

The truth was, by the late ’60s Buckley was hardly interested in folk-rock at all. He was more intrigued by jazz; not only soothing modern jazz (as heard on the posthumous release of acoustic 1968 live material, Dream Letter), but also its most avant-garde strains. His songs became much more oblique in structure, and skeletal in lyrics, especially when the partnership with Larry Beckett was ruptured after the latter’s induction into the Army. Some of his songs abandoned lyrics almost entirely, treating his voice itself as an instrument, wordlessly contorting, screaming, and moaning, sometimes quite cacophonously. In this context, Lorca was viewed by most fans and critics not just as a shocking departure, but a downright bummer. No longer was Buckley a romantic, melodic poet; he was an experimental artist who sometimes seemed bent on punishing both himself and his listeners with his wordless shrieks and jarringly dissonant music.

Blue Afternoon

Almost as if to prove that he was still capable of gentle, uplifting jazzy pop-folk, Buckley issued Blue Afternoon around the same time. Bizarrely, Blue Afternoon and Lorca were issued almost simultaneously, on different labels. While an admirable demonstration of his versatility, it was commercial near-suicide, each album canceling the impact of the other, as well as confusing his remaining fans. Buckley found his best middle ground between accessibility and jazzy improvisation on 1970’s Starsailor, which is probably the best showcase of his sheer vocal abilities, although many prefer the more cogent material of his earliest albums.

Live at the Troubadour 1969

By this point, though, Buckley’s approach was so uncommercial that it was jeopardizing his commercial survival. And not just on record; he was equally uncompromising as a live act, as the posthumously issued Live at the Troubadour 1969 demonstrates, with its stretched-to-the-limit jams and searing improv vocals. For a time, he was said to have earned his living as a taxi driver and chauffeur; he also flirted with films for a while. When he returned to the studio, it was as a much more commercial singer/songwriter (some have suggested that various management and label pressures were behind this shift).

Greetings from L.A.

As much of a schism as Buckley’s experimental jazz period created among fans and critics, his final recordings have proved even more divisive, even among big Buckley fans. Some view these efforts, which mix funk, sex-driven lyrical concerns, and laid-back L.A. session musicians, as proof of his mastery of the blue-eyed soul idiom. Others find them a sad waste of talent, or relics of a prodigy who was burning out rather than conquering new realms. Neophytes should be aware of the difference of critical opinion regarding this era, but on the whole his final three albums are his least impressive. Those who feel otherwise usually cite the earliest of those LPs, Greetings from L.A. (1972), as his best work from his final phase.

Buckley’s life came to a sudden end on June 29, 1975, when he died at age 28 of a heroin overdose just after completing a tour. Those close to him insist that he had been clean for some time and lament the loss of an artist who, despite some recent failures, still had much to offer. Buckley’s stock began to rise among the rock underground after the Cocteau Twins covered his “Song for the Siren” in the 1980s. The posthumous releases of two late-’60s live sets (Dream Letter and Live at the Troubadour 1969) in the early ’90s also boosted his profile, as well as unveiling some interesting previously unreleased compositions. His son Jeff Buckley went on to mount a musical career as well before his own tragic death in 1997.

He doesn’t talk very much and journalists are almost unanimous in their frustration of trying to get a word out of him. His presence is electric, almost disquieting, but he rarely says a word. He wrinkles his nose, flashes his eyes and contorts his mouth into a teasing scowl while he raises his eyebrows and creases his brow. When he smiles, his whole face crumples with mirth. But he rarely says a word to writers.

Friends describe him as shy, complicated and very uncomfortable with strangers. He changes his mind often–about everything–and is very hard to pin down. I saw literally hundreds of photographs at the Elektra publicity office, and he looks more at home in a serious visage than a smile. “That’s because the photographers were strangers,” I was told.

He stands, or more accurately, sways, on impossibly slender legs which seem devoid of inflexibilities. When he sits, which is most often on the floor in a corner, his arms and legs fall in a haphazard tangle as if they were folded up and put away when not in use.

You could get lost in his face. The photos showed him in a variety of poses, moods and changes, but with all their diversity one gets the niggling feeling that something is missed, something is lost; much, it would seem, is misunderstood.

Buckley’s intimate moments are on stage, and even then there is a paradoxical distance. He careens and weeps through elaborate poetic fugues, sometimes losing the words in the sound, writhing sensually behind an enormous Gibson 12-string. He sings in a passionate counter-tenor, skidding around the notes of a song as if possessed by the melodies…the songs, at times, seem to sing him. His eyes are nearly closed most of the time and when they open, briefly, for a contemplative moment they peer out from behind a jungle of dusky curls and recede. Aside from a few very glib introductions, he rarely says a word.

His mystique is not a staged or deliberate one; he’s a uniquely gifted artist whose sensitivities run deep–so deep it would be almost fearful to reach bottom and unthinkable to come over the top.

 

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Pete Ham 4/1975

Pete HamApril 24th, 1975 – Pete Ham (Badfinger) was born Peter William Ham in Swansea, Wales on April 27, 1947. He formed a local rock group called The Panthers around 1961. This group would undergo several name and lineup changes before it became The Iveys in 1965. The band was relocated to London by The Mojos manager, Bill Collins, in 1966, and they continued to perform for three years throughout the United Kingdom. As it was, Ham eventually became the prominent songwriter for the band, as a Revox tape recorder was made available by Collins to encourage him. Ray Davies of The Kinks took an initial interest in the group, although tracks produced by Davies did not surface commercially until decades later. In 1968, The Iveys came to the attention of Mal Evans (The Beatles personal assistant) and were eventually signed to the Beatles’ Apple Records label after approval from all four Beatles, who were reportedly impressed by the band’s songwriting abilities.

The Iveys changed their name to Badfinger with the single release of “Come and Get It,” a composition written by Paul McCartney, and it became a worldwide Top Ten hit. Ham had initially protested against using a non-original to promote the band, as he had gained confidence in the group’s compositions, but he was quickly convinced of the springboard effect of having a likely hit single. His own creative perseverance paid off eventually, as his “No Matter What” composition became another Top Ten worldwide hit after its release in late 1970.

He followed up writing two more worldwide hits with “Day After Day” and “Baby Blue.” His greatest songwriting success came with his co-written composition “Without You” – a worldwide number 1 when it was later covered by Harry Nilsson and released in 1972. The song has since become a ballad standard and is covered by hundreds of singers from many genres worldwide. An Ivor Novello award for Song of the Year was issued in 1973 along with Grammy nominations. George Harrison used Ham’s talents for a number of album sessions including the All Things Must Pass album and for other Apple Records artist’s recordings. This friendship culminated with Ham’s acoustic guitar duet on “Here Comes the Sun” with Harrison at The Concert for Bangladesh in 1971, later portrayed in the theatrical film of the concert.

In 1972, Badfinger was picked up by Warner Bros. Records, as the Apple Records label was crumbling and it seemed the band was primed for major recognition. Unfortunately however the era from 1973–75, found Badfinger embroiled in many internal, financial, and managerial problems and their music was stifled. By 1975, with no income and the band’s business manager uncommunicative, Ham became despondent and he hanged himself in the garage of his Surrey home.

Ham was aged 27 at the time; his suicide fell just three days shy of his 28th birthday. He left behind a pregnant girlfriend, who gave birth to their daughter one month after his death. His suicide note had the statement, “I will not be allowed to love and trust everybody. This is better.”
It also included an accusatory blast toward Badfinger’s business manager, Stan Polley: “P.S. Stan Polley is a soulless bastard. I will take him with me.” News of Ham’s death was not widely disseminated at the time, as no public comment was made by The Beatles, Apple Corps Ltd, or Warner Bros. Records.

Ham is often credited as being one of the earliest purveyors of the power pop genre. His most widespread effect in popular music is the ballad “Without You,” written with Badfinger bandmate Tom Evans. Collections of Ham’s home demo recordings have been posthumously released: 1997’s 7 Park Avenue, 1999’s Golders Green and 2013’s The Keyhole Street Demos 1966–67. On 27 April 2013, Ham was commemorated by his hometown’s first official heritage blue plaque. The unveiling ceremony took place at Swansea’s High Street station, located at Ivey Place, on what would have been Ham’s 66th birthday. Following the unveiling, which was performed by Ham’s daughter Petera, a tribute concert featuring two original Iveys members was held at Swansea’s Grand Theatre.

As is the case with suicides, Ham reached a point where death seemed to be the only solution to his problems. He met band mate/co-songwriter Tom Evans in a pub near his home on the evening of April 24th, 1975, three days before his 28th birthday, and told him: “Don’t worry, I know a way out.” Fortified with drink, Ham went back to his home, wrote a note in which he expressed his bitterness towards his manager and hanged himself in his garage. Evans hanged himself seven years later leaving a note that stated, he wanted to be where Petey was.

The story of one of power rock’s eternal melodies “Without You”, left its creators in desperation, like the 15 minute of fame legacy kills.

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T-Bone Walker 3/1975

T-Bone WalkerMarch 16, 1975 – T-Bone Walker was born Aaron Thibeaux Walker on May 28, 1910 in Linden, Texas. American blues guitarist, pianist and singer/ songwriter.

In the early 1920s, as a teenager learned his craft amongst the street-strolling stringbands of Dallas. Walker’s parents were both musicians. His stepfather, Marco Washington, taught him to play the guitar, ukulele, banjo, violin, mandolin, and piano.

Walker left school at the age of 10, and by 15 he was a professional performer on the blues circuit. Initially, he was Blind Lemon Jefferson’s protégé and would guide him around town for his gigs and by 1929, Walker made his recording debut with Columbia Records billed as Oak Cliff T-Bone, releasing the single “Wichita Falls Blues”/”Trinity River Blues”.  Continue reading T-Bone Walker 3/1975

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Dave Alexander 2/1975

David AlexanderFebruary 10, 1975 – David Michael ‘Dave’ Alexander was born June 3, 1947 in Whitmore Lake, Michigan, but later re-located to Ann Arbor where he became  a founder member of Iggy Pop & The Stooges.

‘Zander’ met brothers Ron and Scott Ashton in high school where he dropped out after 45 minutes on the first day of his senior year in 1965 to win a bet. Later in 1965 Ron sold his motorcycle and they went to England to see The Who and to “try and find The Beatles”.

Alexander and the Asheton brothers soon met Iggy Pop and formed The Stooges in 1967. Although Alexander was a total novice on his instrument, the bass, he was a quick learner and subsequently had a hand in arranging, composing and performing all of the songs that appeared on the band’s first two albums, The Stooges and Fun House. He is often credited by vocalist Iggy Pop and guitarist Ron Asheton in interviews with being the primary composer of the music for the Stooges songs “We Will Fall”, “Little Doll” (both on The Stooges), “Dirt” and “1970” (Fun House).

Alexander was fired from the band in August 1970 after showing up at the Goose Lake International Music Festival too drunk to play.

Less than 5 years later he died of pulmonary edema after being admitted to a hospital for pancreatitis – linked to his excessive drinking – on February 10, 1975 at the age of 27, making him one of the less famous members of the ’27’ Club.

Mike Watt mentions Alexander by name in his song, “The Angel’s Gate,” on his 2004 album The Secondman’s Middle Stand, by which time Watt had replaced Alexander in the reformed Stooges. At Watt’s first performance with the Stooges at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in May 2003, he wore a Dave Alexander t-shirt in tribute.

Iggy Pop namechecks Alexander in the spoken intro to “Dum Dum Boys” on his album The Idiot, saying:

“How about Dave?
OD’d on alcohol“