With that out of the way, the song that made Strawberry Alarm Clock famous didn't come about easily. The "alarm clock" part wasn't inspired by the established chocolate-timepiece band, but from an old, defective clock that made scraping sounds. Following suit with the food-named bands and being Beatles fans, "Strawberry Fields Forever" seemed like a good place to start. He continued writing songs and took on duties as the lead singer, though he didn't serve in that capacity on the song that would cement the group's reputation.īecoming aware of a Detroit-based Sixpence group, they figured okay, fine, it was time to change the name anyway. The group's manager, Bill Holmes, pulled a fast one (as many managers did) by giving himself writer credit on the label, making Wietz wary of similar shifty moves to come.
STRAWBERRY ALARM CLOCK SONGS FULL
Wietz wrote a song called "Heart Full of Rain," which became the band's fourth release, receiving the usual exposure in Santa Barbara but nowhere else, though by that time they were performing regularly up and down the California coast. Gary Lovetro joined as bassist and Randy Seol became the drummer along with hanger-inners King and Freeman. Towards the end of 1966 he spotted an ad posted in a music store Thee Sixpence was looking to fill some vacant positions and in no time he was the group's new keyboard player. Mark Wietz's focus had always been on music he'd studied piano since age eight and later gave the drums a thump or two. It topped the station's playlist in September, which led to a deal with Dot Records to distribute the single nationally.after which the crystal ball went dark. Johnny Fairchild, the music director at top 40 station KIST in Santa Barbara, was a strong supporter, spinning a Sixpence remake of Benny Spellman's 1962 jam "Fortune Teller" (a version by The Rolling Stones had been a hot airplay track in Los Angeles that summer). Three 45s that year on the All-American label included originals ("Long Days Care") and covers ("Hey Joe"). Thee Sixpence consisted of guitarists Ed King and Lee Freeman, along with two others who quit by the end of '66, lead singer Mike Luciano and guitarist Steve Rabe, and drummer Gene Gunnels (who also split but would one day return). The more "psychedelic" the music, the weirder the names became. Some of 1967's breakout bands had food names ( Peanut Butter Conspiracy, Moby Grape) and even more bizarre combinations of edibles and gadgets such as The Electric Prunes and Chocolate Watch Band. Thee Sixpence, a band from Glendale, California formed in 1965, reached a point where it made sense to ditch the faux-Brit name and go with the new trippier-moniker trend. By 1967, despite the success of Chicago's non-Westminster-based Buckinghams, the name game had moved away from aping Anglican interlopers. San Francisco band The Beau Brummels named themselves after a King George-era military/fashion figure, while the Texas-bred Sir Douglas Quintet emerged with nary a knighted member among its ranks, certainly not San Antonio-born group leader Doug Sahm.
bands attempted was to use fake British-sounding names, figuring it would be a better bet than if people took them for un-hip homegrown talent. The influx of British music acts that rapidly and quite suddenly stormed North American radio stations and record stores in 1964 and '65 made some of the locals nervous about being overridden on their own home turf. STRAWBERRY ALARM CLOCK Incense and Peppermints
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