Page 30 - the NOISE March 2015

gRand FunK RailRoad & theiR Ride to #1
grand Funk Railroad is a hard rock band from Flint, Michi- gan, formed in 1969. During the mid-1960s, guitarist Mark Farner and drummer Don Brewer were members of Terry
Knight and The Pack, a combo patterned after Mitch Ryder’s Detroit wheels. After several local hits, The Pack broke up in
1967.
Vocalist Terry Knight attempted a career as a folksinger
then moved into management and record production. He convinced Farner and Brewer to start a Cream-styled power trio. Bassist Mel schacher, who had briefly played with Ques- tion Mark and The Mysterians, was brought aboard and Knight christened them Grand Funk Railroad.
Terry Knight pulled a few strings and got the unsigned group a spot on the bill at the Atlanta Pop Festival in 1969. The response was positive and landed them a deal with Capi- tol Records. within a year, they were headlining venues coast to coast.
Grand Funk Railroad was a legitimate phenomenon. The first band to play shea stadium was The Beatles, the second was Grand Funk. They sold it out too. They released three stu- dio albums in their first eleven months together, all of which went gold without the benefit of hit singles.
They were despised by most of the critical establishment, but audiences loved them. Knight used this fact to cultivate Grand Funk’s image as the “people’s band.” The money was flowing in like a torrent. After a few years, the group became wary of Terry Knight’s handling of their finances and demand- ed an audit. They ended up having to take Knight to court to dissolve his management contract.
The band was at an impasse. The power trio format had been done to death, so keyboardist Craig Frost was added to the lineup. The market was oversaturated: by mid-1972, Capitol had put out three more studio albums, a 2-LP live set, and a 2-LP anthology. They were still a top concert draw, but record sales began lagging.
Capitol had Grand Funk under contract for five more al- bums. The label stated it plainly: their career was in trouble. The group needed a big hit single and a sympathetic produc- er to yank it out of them. Capitol knew just the guy.
Todd Rundgren was an oddball wunderkind in the 1970s. After founding the short-lived power pop band nazz while barely out of high school, Rundgren came under the wing of Albert Grossman, manager of Bob Dylan, Peter Paul & Mary, and Janis Joplin. Todd’s early ‘70s studio albums were over- dubbed pop/rock mini-masterpieces that generated both AM hits and heavy FM rotation.
Rundgren branched out into production and engineering. His first big name project was The Band’s third LP Stage Fright in 1970. The 21-year-old’s caustic humor and flippant attitude rubbed the seasoned musicians the wrong way. Todd repeat- edly referred to The Band’s revered organ player Garth Hud- son as “that old man” (Hudson was 32). One session ended prematurely when drummer Levon Helm chased Rundgren
out of the building while brandishing a hatchet.
still, the finished album sounded great. Todd earned a no- bullsh*t, get-it-done reputation in the studio. when Badfin- ger’s third record was abandoned by George Harrison, Rund-
gren was sent in to mop up. The resulting LP Straight Up is widely considered Badfinger’s finest. He pulled solid debuts out of sparks and the new York Dolls in 1972.
so when the opportunity to produce Grand Funk Railroad came his way, Rundgren jumped on it. He had seen the group live and was impressed by their onstage energy and enthusi- asm but bored by the endless blues jams. They so obviously wanted to be Cream, but were nowhere near Cream’s level of musicianship. nevertheless, Capitol was throwing an obscene amount of money at this project and he could hardly say no.
Todd met with the boys at their hometown jam space to hear the new songs and discuss the LP. Rundgren arrived in full glam regalia: green and pink hair, mascara, glitter, flam- boyant clothing. In his platform heels he towered well over six feet. He was impossible to miss. The blue collar locals of Flint, Michigan had never seen anything quite like him. Heads turned wherever he went but he obviously did not care.
Despite all this, producer and band hit it off. Rundgren was born the same year as Farner and Brewer, and shared the same skewed sense of humor. They all had stardom thrust upon them at a young age and were just level-headed and cocky enough to deal with it. Grand Funk was not on a star trip. They were sincere (but not too sincere) about their music and willing to bust their butts to make it right.
The producer picked out the hit single immediately. The majority of Grand Funk’s material was penned and sung by Mark Farner, but drummer Don Brewer was making a leap into songwriting. Brewer had come up with “we’re An Ameri- can Band,” a funky, driving paean to partying on the road. Rundgren got excited. They had a classic rock and roll sum- mertime anthem on their hands and Todd knew exactly how the record should sound.
Capitol had booked the month of June 1973 at Tom Dowd’s Criteria studios in Miami. The label had one condition: get the big hit single done first and send it to us as soon as pos- sible. The men went to work.
Craig Frost had envisioned a soulful organ part for the cho- rus of “we’re An American Band,” but Todd threw it out and instructed him to play a moronically repetitive two fingered deet-deet-deet-deet riff. when Frost complained, Rundgren told him to think of “96 Tears.”
An unwritten rule of hit records is “Grab ‘em in the first ten seconds.” Todd crafted a catchy intro: four bars of drums and cowbell followed by the full band entrance. Farner’s guitar dripped with flange while Brewer’s burly voice was given just the right amount of slap back echo. Rundgren’s distinct fal- setto can clearly be heard on the backup vocals.
Grand Funk were blown away by the end result. “we’re An
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