That would be a fair statement, just because there wasn't anybody--there were very few people trying that kind of thing, and to this day, I don't understand why. There are artists who actually do things like that nowadays, aren't there? My favorite band at that period of time were Buffalo Springfield. There really wasn't any sound. There was a manufactured sound in the studio, but if you ever saw 'em live, that was a real exercise in cooperation. 'Cause there were four guitar players. So, you know, there wasn't any one sound for that band. There was kind of a recorded one.

Q: Did you play in costumes, like the one you used for "Connie Crill" on the cover of Bernice?

Not too often. Occasionally I would do things like that, just like changing the name or the identity or whatever, and get it in the press. I had to have fun with it a lot of the time, because when they started, it was so show business. They'd go out and do lip-syncs on local TV shows and stuff. I would never do that. I'd always send a sub. And I would always send the most ridiculous sub I could find, a Sumo wrestler or a big fat Jap chick, or something like that. But never anybody who looked remotely like me, or even looked like they knew what they were doing. So after a while they gave up on that. I think that was my influence.

I just made fun of participating in show business all the time. 'Cause we really were not in show business. Anybody who hired us was definitely in the counterculture, somehow. We were like the house band for the Oracle here, which was like the other Free Press. We played everybody's benefit. It didn't make any difference in the money, because when we played for money, it was fabulous. It was a joke. The kind of money they handed around, was a joke. They wanted the American Beatles somewhere, and anybody to think that we were even like within sniffing distance of that had to be insane.

CBS never gave us hardly any money. Once we were up for renegotiation with CBS, this was '68. Our lawyers told us to go with Mercury, 'cause they were handing out money like crazy. And then we actually took a front from them, and one of our lawyers [said], they're the mob, we have to bail. So we got $17.5, they were talking thousands. This is nothing. They got CBS to give us $18,000, so we could pay back Mercury. The money we made from the recordings was nothing, and to this day I've never seen anything, nothing. Not like I expected to.

Q: I have this exceptionally poor-sounding bootleg of Kaleidoscope playing at the Shrine in Los Angeles. Do you know about that?

I keep hearing there are bootleg live recordings, but I don't know. The Shrine is the youth riot capitol of L.A. It's a wonderful place. It's just enormous, and has no acoustics whatsoever. We got off the plane from Boston, ran straight to the Shrine, and then got back on a bus and went to Texas or something.

Q: Did any musicians other than Kaleidoscope play on the records?

If there's any kind of accompaniment, it's the band. There's no question. But now initially, there are spots, see, like on the first album, there were a few spots where it wasn't Vidican playing drums, and it was me playing bass, because they hadn't hired Chris yet. I was hired to be bass player, I've never figured that out. And the drummer was occasionally Billy Mundi. I think Little Feat's drummer, too. But very, very good. I'm pretty sure he played on some Byrds records, too. 'Cause that's kind of why he was there. He was a very adaptable guy, and he wasn't like a real strong overbearing drummer, but he was a very good inside-type player. That would be the only possibility that would be different, was that it might be Billy Mundi playing drums.

Q: Do you know anything about those previously unreleased tracks that showed up on the Egyptian Candy CD compilation in 1991?

After the Kaleidoscope folded on Epic, David wanted to make Solomon a solo artist. But there's probably dates on that stuff, isn't there? If the dates are before '69, then it's the band.

Q: Are there any other unreleased recordings that you know of?

There are interesting smaller things that aren't on any of the compilations I know of, but none of them are earthshaking. There are things that maybe two of us play really well, and then one of us doesn't. There are about three or four of those. But as time goes by, I think that what you played at 19 isn't that embarrassing.

I particularly remember a version of "Midnight in Moscow," kind of done Djangoesque, and a version of "I'm a Hog For You Baby," the Coasters song. Gee, I don't what style we did that in. But I remember that. We also used to do "Steppin' Out," the Eric Clapton song, but we'd do it in seven or five. I think there's versions of that, but I don't know.

Q: Anything else you want to add that I didn't ask about?

Generally what I always tell people is that it was a great live band. The reason we existed as an economic thing that we could all make enough money and work together was, was because you could put us on any bill. And we weren't going to echo anything that was gonna go on, and you weren't going to go to sleep while we were on, because we changed it up like crazy. And it was very entertaining to watch, because it wasn't just five hippies who looked alike. It was five very ugly-looking hippies who had entirely different ways of approaching things. It fell, or made it, on Solomon. He's not somebody that I even got along with, or spend much time with. But the guy's a fabulous guy. And he's an authentic article, that's the best way to put it. That's what Jimmy Page said about him. He said, he's the real thing. He's one of those guys who learned to play flamenco from pissing on his hands, and all that kind of crap. And only that period of time would have accepted him singing, would have accepted the kind of music that he was trying to bring in to western idioms. I know that we performed for I don't know how many zillions of people that heard that, but I know that absolutely none of them heard the records. So whatever kind of reputation--and, you know, people are always asking me about it, so somebody must have heard of it--but I know it ain't from the records. I just absolutely know that. 'Cause nobody has 'em.

Q: What you are doing these days, musically?

First off, I have this on and off thing with Chris. We've done six albums in, I don't know, the last twelve years, that don't have anything in common except that that's what we wanted to do. The last one, Harem Girl, is probably the most complex thing I've ever done. My appendix blew up a couple of years ago, and I've just about recovered from it. I play in a lot of rock bands in this area, but it's kind of like a friend thing. I play in a couple jazz bands, but again, it's not something that I pursue. I made enough money from the Kaleidoscope to buy two houses, set up a couple of things, a little rental property, and not have to work hard. And I thought that was good enough for me. I toured as a child and as a teenager with my parents in religious things. I knew what traveling was.

You know, David really wanted to be a star. More than anything. And that drove him to hire and fire people and be involved in bands and all this turmoil. The closer I got to watching all that stuff, boy, I just want to live a human life. I really do. Christopher really wanted to step out too. But the amount of tear on your human being is just terrible. It's fucking terrible. And Christopher's a wonderful, outgoing, one of the nicest guys in rock'n'roll. But man...that is not me. For me, if you call me in and say here's a tune, here's your two hundred bucks, you got three minutes--that's the kind of relationship I have with the recording industry. That's fine, and I do some of that kind of work too. But it's not, "I want to get in on the planning stage, and I'm going to help you with your tune, where all I'm going to say is gee, I like your voice"--I can't do any of that stuff. I'm a real curmudgeon.

All the music I loved was dying, and I just wanted to try and inject anything that I could that had more sophistication to it than the Troggs. Not that I'm knocking the Troggs, mind you. But I knew the Troggs had to play like the Troggs, because they didn't know any better. I've played in plenty of garage bands. Since then, I've done plenty of things, and I have come to appreciate other things. But at the same time, the music I love was going out the door. And if I had to say I love music from anywhere, it would be from the '30s and '40s. But if you listen to what I play, like say the album we did before this, the Chumps, you'd never know that. You'd never have a clue. The Chumps is the group that we are in currently--Los Chumps. Chris and I are in it. We're in it with Lagos in the last incantation, but he just moved to St. Paul. So we actually had three Kaleidoscope members in Los Chumps. And in the last Los Chumps album, there are three Kaleidoscope members. And it's all obscure R&B, done kind of J. Geils. Well, the Germans liked it.

So we've done like these five albums. We also did the Rank Strangers, which was on Nesmith's label, and it was almost a cappella Sons of the Pioneers with me playing the violin solos. That was an excellent record. It was nominated for a Grammy as semi-gospel or something. When they used to have these Grammy categories that would be like, vocal group that isn't gospel or your mother, you know. It was a great record, but it was very, very--like most of the stuff we did, it was too hip for the room. That's what I usually use, by the way. What happened? Well, it was too hip for the room.

contents copyright 2000 Richie Unterberger