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Beau Brummels
Triangle
Collectors' Choice Music
By Steve Cooper
 When this little-heralded
album appeared in 1967, the Beau Brummels were on the down slope
of their hit-making history. Starting in 1964, on the tiny Autumn
Records label, the Beau Brummels had two Top Ten radio charters,
"Laugh, Laugh" and "Just A Little." It was
an era when small labels could have big hits, although they usually
cut distribution deals with bigger labels. Autumn Records was
begun and started by San Francisco DJ Tom Donahue and featured
the production talents of an up-and-comer named Sylvester Stewart
(later to become Sly Stone of Sly & the Family Stone fame).
Oddly enough, it was Stewart who produced all the Beau Brummels
singles and albums recorded for Autumn (odd because the Beau
Brummels were anything but a funk band). However, the innocent,
innovative '60s was a decade of broad possibility.
The Beau Brummels' third hit single, "You Tell Me Why,"
wasn't as big a hit as the first two, but quickly became an FM
favorite, due to its winning-if-moody combination of folk and
rock. Guitarist Ron Elliott wrote most of their songs, sometimes
in combination with vocalist Sal Valentino, sometimes in combination
with bassist Ron Meagher. Still other Beau Brummels songs were
written by Elliott and friend (though non-band member) Bob Durand.
The group was fleshed out by John Petersen on drums and Declan
Mulligan on (occasional) vocals and guitar. And then, in 1966,
Donahue's label folded. Just like that. Tiny labels tended to
do that in the '60s - even tiny labels with big hits. The Beau
Brummels quickly signed with a larger label, Warner Brothers.
Their first release for the Brothers Warner was a huge misstep.
Beau Brummels '66 was an album of covers by a group known
for writing their own. And the choice of covers, such as "Louie
Louie" and "Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter,"
was hardly inspired. The Beau Brummels desperately needed either
another hit or a change of direction.
And, then, in 1967, the "change of direction" came
in the form of Triangle. The original quintet was now
down to three - Elliott, Meagher, and Valentino - hence, the
"triangular" title. Triangle was not only a
major departure for the Beau Brummels, it was a major departure
for the times. At once mystical and playful, Triangle was one
of those albums that seemingly appear out of nowhere, delight
and confound the critics, are largely ignored by the public,
and then sink back into the creative ooze from whence they came.
Compare it to Love's Forever Changes and the Zombies'
Odessey & Oracle in that regard. Sonically, Triangle
is a bit of Beatles, a bit of Lovin' Spoonful, a bit of Buffalo
Springfield, a bit of Van Dyke Parks, a bit of gypsy caravan,
and a whole lot of Ron Elliott and Sal Valentino. And, give credit
to ace producer Lenny Waronker, producer of such Warner/Reprise
acts as Neil Young and Joni Mitchell, for the smarts to let the
Beau Brummels follow their muse down an exciting, if not so commercial,
path.
Nine of the eleven cuts on Triangle were written by
Ron Elliott, with lyrical help from Sal Valentino and Bob Durand.
The other two songs are well-chosen covers - Randy Newman's "Old
Kentucky Home" and Merle Travis' "Nine Pound Hammer."
As done by the Beau Brummels, the two covers fit seamlessly with
the originals. The instrumentation and vocal layering is so perfectly,
fully rendered, the eleven songs form, without overt design,
a unified whole. It is a pop/folk/rock symphony without pretension
or genuflection.
The lead cut, Elliott/Durand's "Are You Happy?"
finds the Beau Brummels in a Lovin' Spoonful mode of sorts. But
it is more. For one, Sal Valentino's voice. If forced to compare
his vocals, I would have to say Gene Pitney filtered through
Bob Dylan. He has Pitney's timbre and volume and Dylan's sly,
expressive tone. Though "Are You Happy?" has the jangly,
good-timey feel of a Spoonful song, it also has Valentino's ethereal,
resonating vocals providing mystery and romance. Especially enigmatic
are the echo-chambered vocals at the end of a line, an effective
technique used on many of the songs on Triangle. Ron Elliott's
acoustic guitar playing is also different than your average Nashville
Cat. There's a high-stringed, bell-like tone that owes as much
to flamenco as it does to country or folk.
"Only Dreaming Now," written by Elliott and Valentino,
fully joins the gypsy caravan "Are You Happy?" only
glanced at from afar. Elliott's string arrangements and guitar
playing with Valentino's aching, powerful vocals form the swirling
foundation, as an accordion and a cello dart in and out and about.
The lyrics are veiled and evocative, like a Fellini movie: "She
danced above my head/Above my bed/Like no other I have known."
"Painter of Women" is everything "Only Dreaming
Now" is and more. Sal Valentino's vocal is alternately a
sinister mumble and a full-on, plaintive wail: "Seventeen
lanterns are burning tonight/Isn't he a sight/Sitting alone on
his plush Persian rug/In the blackest night/With his fancies
in flight/All his colors are bright/And the canvas is whiter/The
painter of women." At least I think Sal is singing "the
canvas is whiter." That's another interesting thing about
his vocals-he frequently bends the words for effect.
"It Won't Get Better" finds us back in John Sebastian
land, although the addition of French horns lets us know something
else is up. Valentino's lyric is a sage admonition: "Hey,
all you young fellas sitting on top of the world/Taking in all
of them pretty young girls/Take 'em, they don't get better."
Merle Travis' "Nine Pound Hammer" becomes positively
Pitney-esque in Valentino's hands. His vocal soars and shouts,
proving he could "go to church" if he wanted to. Ron
Elliott's arrangement chugs and churns, slows, and then ascends
in intensity and drama. Quite the anthem. Of course, the coal
mine becomes but a metaphor in this fancified (though compelling)
setting.
Quite naturally, I am saving the best for last. (Actually,
I don't have that kind of patience - it's just a cheap attempt
at literary closure.) "Magic Hollow" and "The
Wolf of Velvet Fortune" are, alone, enough to place Ron
Elliott in the "Shining Songwriters of the Sixties"
category. "Magic Hollow" is an eerie waltz, accompanied
by Van Dyke Parks on harpsichord and some uncredited player (perhaps
Parks) on concertina. Cellos and violins abet. Valentino's vocals
are quavering, heartrending, theatrically echoed at all the right
places. The lyric is "Summer of Love," but more mythical
than hippie: "My sight is blessed/You have not guessed/So
won't you follow/For through the dark/I hear the lark/Of Magic
Hollow." All told, the song is a gentle, wonderfully melodious
invitation to a better, more soothing place.
On the other hand, "The Wolf of Velvet Fortune"
opens quietly, but we are now in a more unsettling locale: "The
air is full of strangeness/An unfamiliar breeze blows."
The guitars build slowly, then rapidly to a climax, at which
point the singer bellows forth: "Delight, delight/The wolf
of velvet fortune is on his merry flight." Once again, we're
invited-this time to a better, more invigorating, albeit more
dangerous, place. If "Magic Hollow" is a calming sedative,
"The Wolf of Velvet Fortune" is an amphetamine.
Triangle was and is a masterwork. In 1967, it was barely
promoted, barely made Billboard's Top 200, and sank from view
without so much as a ripple. The Beau Brummels would make one
other fine album for Warner Brothers, Bradley's Barn,
more shitkicker than shaman, however Triangle is the Beau
Brummels' Pet Sounds, their Sgt. Pepper.
Contact Steve Cooper at: cooper-at-rockzilla.net
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