What was your name, little girl?

Two years ago, Hack’s Back Pages first addressed the intriguing topic of where bands’ names came from.

I examined the fascinating/amusing derivations of big names like The Who, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Doors, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Pink Floyd, Buffalo Springfield, Steely Dan, Jethro Tull, Grateful Dead and The Lovin’ Spoonful.

(You can see this essay if you click on the horizontal bars in the upper right corner of the home page, then click on July 2015 on the archives.  Look for “Pleased to meet you, won’t you guess my name.”)

It’s high time I revisited this topic, for there are so many other bands with interesting stories behind the names they picked for themselves.

Let’s take a look at 20 more groups from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s and why they chose the names they did.

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Duran Duran

Fans of the late ’60s science fiction cult film “Barbarella” will instantly recognize Duran Duran as a derivation of the film’s character Dr. Durand-Durand, who invented the positronic ray, which could supposedly end humanity if it fell into the wrong hands.   When John Taylor and Nick Rhodes were first forming a group, they used to play in a popular London club called Barbarella’s.  Once they watched the movie, they agreed they should name their band after the key figure in the film.

Earth Wind & Fire

I don’t follow astrology much, but Chess Records session drummer Maurice White was a big devotee.  His first band, a Chicago-based group called The Salty Peppers, broke up in 1970, and he moved to L.A. to start over.  White’s astrological sign was Sagittarius, which apparently has the “primary element” of Earth and the “seasonal elements” of Air and Fire.  So when he established his new group, he settled on Earth, Wind (Air) & Fire, and the lyrics of many of the songs in EW&F’s catalog reflect his interest in the environment and world peace.

Badfinger

When the Beatles were writing and first recording “With a Little Help From My Friends,” its working title was “Bad Finger Boogie,” because Lennon had injured a forefinger and was playing piano with only one finger at the time.  When the time came to rename The Iveys, one of the first groups signed to The Beatles’ Apple Records label, Badfinger was suggested, based on that previous working song title.  (George Harrison later said he thought the band had been named after a stripper they had admired in Hamburg named Helga Fabdinger…)

The Kinks

The London-based group that started as the Bo-Weevils and the Ravens eventually became The Kinks, but there are conflicting views about that.  One version says the band liked the idea of a name that brought them “fame though outrage, something newsy and naughty, on the borderline of acceptability.”  Others said, “The way you look, the clothes you wear, you ought be called The Kinks.”  Either way, despite their half-dozen hits in the ’60s and early ’70s, they never came close to the success of their British peers, even though they lasted well into the ’90s.  Lots and lots of great music, though, for those who want to explore…

U2

In 1978, Steve Averill, a punk rocker with The Radiators and a friend of bass player Adam Clayton, offered up six suggestions for the name of the new group Clayton had formed with drummer Larry Mullen Jr., guitarist David “The Edge” Evans and Paul “Bono” Hewson.  The band members settled on U2 “because we disliked it the least of the six names offered,” said Clayton.  “It’s ambiguous and wide open to interpretation, which appealed to us.”

Grand Funk Railroad

Mark Farmer and Don Brewer spent time with a ’60s Michigan regional band called Terry Knight & the Pack, and Pack ended up managing Farner, Brewer and Mel Schacher in a new power trio in early 1969.  The Grand TRUNK Railroad Line, a subsidiary of a Canadian railroad that had been a crucial link since the late 1800s between Ontario and Chicago, ran right through Flint, where the group was based.  Pack thought, “Hey, how about you call yourselves Grand FUNK Railroad?”  They loved it, although it was eventually shortened to Grand Funk.

Supertramp

“The Autobiography of a Supertramp” was a well-regarded book by Welsh poet/writer W.H. Davies, who had lived a vagabond life in England, Canada and the U.S. in the late 1800s and wrote about his curious life.  Some fifty years later, a British progressive rock band that had been known as Daddy needed to make a change because of a similarly named group, Daddy Longlegs.  Composers Roger Hodgson and Rick Davies both liked the tattered but noble image of a “supertramp” from the book, and Supertramp they became.

Talking Heads

When TV news producers edit together the various clips they need to tell their on-air stories, they have a term they use to refer to ‘head-and-shoulders” shots of people talking but not doing anything:  “talking heads.”  Bass player Tina Weymouth recalls sitting around skimming through an article in TV Guide in 1976 that explored the TV producer’s job.  “I saw that ‘talking head’ basically means, ‘all content, no action,’ and we thought that described us perfectly.  It just fit, so we went with that.”

Simply Red

Lead singer and front man Mick Hucknall sported a head of long, unkempt red hair, which made him the undisputed visual focal point of his group.  Originally a Manchester punk band known as The Frantic Elevators, they disbanded in 1984, and Hucknall started anew with a fresh lineup, performing British soul music.  They adopted the name Red (Hucknall’s nickname, of course), but one night, when a club promoter asked them their name, Hucknall responded, “Red.  Simply Red.”  They were then promoted and announced on stage as “Simply Red.”  They liked the error and kept it.

KISS

In 1972, Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley were in a New York City-based band called Wicked Lester which was going nowhere.  They heard a club band called Lips whose drummer, Peter Criss, was also a pretty decent singer, so they recruited him for their as-yet-unnamed group, focusing on a harder rock sound.  Once lead guitarist Ace Frehley joined, they started experimenting with costumes and makeup for their stage act.  Criss said, “Hey, Lips was a pretty good name, but how about Kiss instead?”  They chose to use all capital letters, which prompted some to speculate that it was an acronym for devil worship (perhaps for Kids In Satan’s Service)…

Foreigner

In 1976 in New York City, three British musicians — guitarist/songwriter Mick Jones, multi-instrumentalist Ian McDonald and drummer Dennis Elliott — combined forces with three Americans — singer Lou Gramm, keyboardist Al Greenwood and bassist Ed Gagliardi.  They called themselves Trigger until they discovered another band with the same name.  Eventually, Jones came to the realization that “no matter what country we play in, we’re foreigners,” so the band adopted the name Foreigner.

R.E.M.

Four struggling musicians met in 1980 in Athens, Georgia, home to the University of Georgia.  Singer Michael Stipe met guitarist Peter Buck in a record store and discovered they shared an interest in punk and proto-punk artists like Patti Smith and The Velvet Underground.  They formed a band with two other UGA students but remained nameless until after their first gig, after which they kicked around repugnant names like “Cans of Piss” and “Negro Wives” before settling on R.E.M. (which stands for Rapid Eye Movement), a random phrase Stipe saw in the newspaper that particular day.

Three Dog Night

One day in 1968, singer Danny Hutton’s girlfriend was reading an article about the Australian outback, and how aborigines there would hunker down in a hole in the ground on cold nights, cuddling up with their dogs for warmth.  Most times, one dog, or maybe two, would be sufficient, but on rare occasions, they would suffer through a brutally cold evening, which was referred to as a “three-dog night.”  The pop group, which featured three lead vocalists, decided it was a great name for their lineup.

The Velvet Underground

Lou Reed and John Cale met in New York in 1964 and formed The Primitives, which evolved into The Warlocks, and then The Falling Spikes.  Around that time, Reed read the controversial counter-culture classic “The Velvet Underground,” by Michael Leigh, about the secret sexual subculture of the Sixties, and concluded it was exactly the name they needed for their fledgling band of societal misfits.

The Doobie Brothers

Nothing mysterious here:  This bar band from San Jose, California, played to some rough biker crowds who were partial to marijuana, and the band enjoyed it as well, so why not name themselves after the slang term for a cannabis cigarette?  It’s amusing to note that many otherwise conservative folks who enjoyed The Doobies’ music over the years didn’t realize what “doobie” meant…

Electric Light Orchestra

A “light orchestra,” popular in classical music circles in England in the ’60s, was a scaled down symphony orchestra, limited to as few as 10-12 instruments (mostly violins, cellos and woodwinds).  Roy Wood, leader of The Move, wanted to merge classical instruments with rock and roll, “picking up where The Beatles left off.”  New recruit Jeff Lynne, who shared Wood’s interest in the potential of a classical/rock merger, helped create an electrified “light orchestra” sound, ultimately realizing that that was the most appropriate name for the group (although it was often abbreviated as ELO).

Blue Öyster Cult

This Long Island heavy metal band was conceived as “the American version of Black Sabbath.”  Originally called “Soft White Underbelly,” the group’s manager Sandy Pearlman suggested a different name, a term from the brand of science-fiction poetry he had been writing.  The phrase described a group of aliens who had assembled to secretly guide Earth’s history.  The umlaut (two dots) above the capital O was added “just because it was unusual.”  Years later, Pearlman said in an interview that he came up with the phrase “Blue Oyster Cult” as an anagram for Cully Stout Beer, although exhaustive Google searches for such a brand have come up empty.

Blondie

Guitarist Chris Stein and blonde-haired singer Debbie Harry formed a band in 1974 with drummer Billy O’Connor and bassist Fred Smith, at first known as Angel and The Snake.  When Harry was walking by a construction site in Manhattan one afternoon, several hardhats taunted her with whistles and catcalls, and one guy yelled out, “Hey Blondie!”  When a passing truck driver yelled the same thing a few days later, the group decided it was the right name for their band.

The E Street Band

Bruce Springsteen had played with several groups during his formative years in New Jersey clubs:  Earth, Steel Mill, Dr. Zoom and the Sonic Boom.  When he was signed in 1972 to a recording deal with Columbia, Springsteen was expected to make an acoustic album, but instead he brought some of his musician friends with him to the sessions:  bassist Garry Tallent on bass, Danny Federici on organ, Clarence Clemons on sax, David Sancious on piano, and Vini Lopez on drums.  This motley crew often practiced in the garage at Sancious’s mother’s house, located on E Street in Belmar, NJ.  Springsteen’s second LP and leadoff single were entitled “The E Street Shuffle,” thus immortalizing the name for decades to come, even as membership in the E Street Band changed along the way.

Creedence Clearwater Revival

The Blue Velvets were a Bay Area band playing rock ‘n roll covers in 1964-65.  Once they signed to Fantasy Records, the owner insisted they call themselves The Golliwogs, after a controversial fictional character with unfortunate racial overtones.  Draft notices issued to John Fogerty and Stu Cook put the band’s dreams on hiatus for a year or so, and when they reunited in 1968, the label’s new owner wanted another name change.   Everyone came up with multiple ideas but settled on Fogerty’s suggestion that combined three words:  Creedence (from Tom Fogerty’s friend Credence Newball), Clearwater (from the slogan for Olympia Beer, whose promotion proclaimed “It’s the water”), and Revival (for the band’s renewed commitment after the dormant period).  “It was a weirder name than Jefferson Airplane or Buffalo Springfield, that’s for sure,” said Cook.

The Wichita lineman is still on the line

The Beach Boys were in a bind.

It was late 1964, nearly three years into their incredible run as Southern California’s favorite sons, providing the soundtrack to the fun-in-the-sun image adored from coast to coast.   The fivesome was in the middle of a major tour to capitalize on the strength of their latest #1 single, “I Get Around.”  But Brian Wilson — their tenor singer, bass player, chief songwriter, arranger and producer — was a fragile soul, and he had begun to crack under the pressure of all the responsibility.  He wanted to withdraw from touring, and concentrate on studio work.  What to do?

There was one clear answer:  Glen Campbell.

_89779590_78442333As a member of the loose group of L.A. session musicians who came to be known as The Wrecking Crew, Campbell had been the guy playing guitar in the recording sessions for “I Get Around,” “Dance, Dance, Dance” and other Beach Boys’ classic records, so he knew the material inside out.  He also had a clean-cut look similar to the rest of the group, so he would fit in well on stage.  He jumped at the offer and found himself a bonafide Beach Boy for a successful three-month stint.

beachboysAfter an extraordinarily public six-year battle with Alzheimer’s disease, Campbell died August 9th at age 81.  He was widely admired as a dexterous guitarist, a delightful singer, and a hell of a nice guy, and although his star shone brightest in the country music community, his many appearances on the pop charts with iconic songs and on important rock music records certainly qualifies him to be lauded here on Hack’s Back Pages.

Wilson, who had lobbied for Campbell to replace him on that tour fifty-odd years ago, had this to say last week:  “Glen was an incredible musician, and an even better person.  I’m at a loss.  Love and mercy.”
Campbell’s rags-to-riches story is fairly remarkable.  He was born in small-town Arkansas in 1936, the seventh son of a dozen children born to John Wesley and Carol Campbell, who barely scraped by farming corn, potatoes and cotton.  Glen toiled in the fields throughout his youth, but he idolized his Uncle Boo, who gave him a cheap guitar for Christmas when Glen was five.  “Back home, everybody sang along, while somebody played guitar or fiddle or what have you,” Campbell recalled in a 1994 interview.

He practiced guitar relentlessly, listening to radio and records, particularly in awe of the stylings of French-born jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt, a sensation in the 1940s and ’50s.  Campbell sang in gospel choirs and played church picnics and county fairs, and by the time he turned 17, he headed for Albuquerque, where he joined his uncle’s band for a spell before forming his own band, The Western Wranglers, playing country-western tunes seven nights a week.

jb_glencampbell_studioBy 1960, he set his sights on California, settling in Los Angeles just as the recording scene there was catching fire as the new hotbed of rock and roll.  He landed a job cutting demos and trying his hand at songwriting for a publishing firm, and his fine guitar work on those demos caught the ear of producers looking for session musicians.

It didn’t take long for Campbell and his guitar to start showing up on recordings by some of pop and rock music’s most widely revered artists of the era:  Nat King Cole, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, The Beach Boys, Wayne Newton, Bobby Darin, Ricky Nelson, Jan & Dean, Merle Haggard, The Righteous Brothers, The Monkees.  Campbell’s assignment was to blend into the arrangement, not grab the spotlight, so you have to listen pretty closely sometimes to hear his contributions, but he’s there on such big hits as “Surf City,” “Danke Schoen,” “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,” “Hello Mary Lou,” Presley’s cover of Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say,” “Fun, Fun, Fun,” “Strangers in the Night” and The Monkees’ “I’m a Believer” and “Mary Mary.”  Quite a portfolio.

150619175824-03-glen-campbell-restricted-super-169Not bad, not bad at all.  Then, in 1965, Capitol Records heard him sing on a few demos, and signed him as a solo artist.  Campbell had grown up on country music and was seen as a potential star in that market.  After a couple false starts (anybody heard of “Turn Around, Look at Me” or “”Too Late to Worry”?), they paired him with producer Al DeLory in 1967, who encouraged him to record John Hartford’s song “Gentle On My Mind.”

Although the record stalled at only #30 on the country charts, it would eventually end up winning Grammys for Best Country-Western Recording and Vocal Performance.  Meantime, DeLory hurried Campbell back into the studio to record Jimmy Webb’s classic “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” which not only reached #2 on the country charts but managed #26 on the pop charts.  Campbell took many by surprise at those same 1968  Grammys by winning not only Best Male Vocal Performance but also the coveted Album of the Year prize.

This earned him high-profile spots on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and the hip variety show 150619175650-02-glen-campbell-restricted-super-169that followed it on CBS’s Sunday night schedule, “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour.”  Response to his appearances there was so good that CBS offered him a slot as the Smothers Brothers’ summer replacement with “The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour,” which stuck around on the full prime-time schedule for three more seasons.

There’s an interesting story behind what is considered perhaps Campbell’s finest record, the stunning “Wichita Lineman,” which peaked at #3.  DeLory was under pressure to finish Campbell’s next LP and needed another song in a hurry, so they called Webb and asked him to submit “a song about something geographical” by the end of the day.  The GLEN_CAMPBELL_WICHITA+LINEMAN++WHERES+THE+PLAYGROUND+SUZIE?-604037previous afternoon, Webb had driven across Kansas and seen a lone telephone lineman working atop a pole in the middle of nowhere, and the image stuck with him.  He came up with two verses and the chorus but ran out of time before he could finish it.  Nevertheless, Campbell recorded it, using a six-string bass to play the melody line as a solo in place of the missing third verse.  It turned out to be one of the song’s most distinctive moments.

“Galveston” was another Top Five hit, but then things leveled off for a few years, even though he enjoyed success on the country charts.  Then in the mid-’70s, Campbell was back on top in a big way with two #1s, “Rhinestone Cowboy” (1975) and “Southern Nights” (1977), neither of which appealed to me personally, but they made him a big draw again in concert and on TV, where he often wowed the crowds with phenomenal, quicksilver picking to complement the expected hits.

150619180217-06-glen-campbell-restricted-super-169Over the years, Campbell has done a stellar job doing polished covers of great songs of the period, even if they weren’t recognized on the charts:  “After the Glitter Fades” (Stevie Nicks), “Reason to Believe” (Tim Hardin, Rod Stewart and others), and “The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress” (Jimmy Webb, Judy Collins).  Also, other artists were eager to record duets with Campbell over the years as well, from Bobbie Gentry in the ’60s to Tanya Tucker in the ’80s, as well as Cher, Anne Murray, Stevie Wonder, Mel Tillis, Johnny Cash, Lee Greenwood, Juice Newton and Emmylou Harris.

Make no mistake about this:  I am not much of a fan of Campbell’s repertoire, but I’m not part of his demographic, really.  Still, I admire his ability to straddle the line between country and pop at a time when that was rarely done.  I admire his longevity that made him an exalted country music icon, looked up to by younger generations in the country music arena.  And most of all, frankly, I admire “Wichita Lineman.”  What a fantastic record.

merlin-to-scoop-125744615-44006-master768The 1980s weren’t so kind to Campbell.  The albums and singles he released were met mostly with indifference, even among his base of country fans, and he found himself struggling with alcohol and drug problems for a while.  Once he shook that, he re-emerged in the 1990s and 2000s with an array of gospel and Christmas LPs that did modestly well.  But clearly, his best days were behind him.

Once he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2011, Campbell insisted on publicly announcing it and then embarking on one last “Goodbye” tour.  Even though the disease had begun to take its toll, as evidenced by erratic stage behavior and forgotten lyrics, the press and the public praised him for soldiering on, as a way to increase awareness about the disease’s debilitating effects.

Two songs released in Campbell’s twilight years exemplify, in a very poignant way, how the man became a shadow of his former self.  First was the 2011 song “Ghost on the Canvas,” a haunting piece that resonates even more now that he has died:

“I know a place between life and death for you and me, let’s take hold on the threshold of eternity, and see the ghost on the canvas, people don’t see us, a ghost on the canvas, people don’t know when they’re looking at souls…”

182191988_1502227650Even as Campbell was nearing the end, he collaborated with friend/producer Julian Raymond in 2014 to write and record an extraordinary song, “I’m Not Gonna Miss You,” which was duly noted in the Grammy nominations that year.   Its lyrics speak tragically of how, in most cases, the afflicted will ultimately not remember anything or anybody, even cherished loved ones:

“I’m still here, but yet I’m gone, I don’t play guitar or sing my songs, they never defined who I am, the man that loves you ’til the end, you’re the last person I will love,  you’re the last face I will recall, and best of all, I’m not gonna miss you…”

Beach Boy Mike Love said he felt a kinship with Campbell, saying he was underrated:  “He may not have been a figurehead in rock music, but he made a huge impact in country and pop music, and he is widely revered by axemen everywhere for his virtuoso guitar work, on acoustic and electric alike.”

Rock guitarists from Carlos Santana and Peter Frampton to John Mayer and James Taylor spoke highly of his musical skills as a guitarist and singer.  Keith Urban, Vince Gill, Mark Knopfler and George Benson all recall walking away from guitar duels with Campbell, saying, “Whoa!  That guy is unbelievable.”

Brad Paisley offered these heartfelt remarks:  “Thank you for the artistry, grace and class you brought to country music.  You were a shining light in so many ways.”

Tim McGraw added this succinct summary:  “In a world of good stuff, his was great.  In a world of great stuff, his was special.”