John Boylan On Little River Band
Thanks for the shout out on Little River Band. The original members are all good friends that I try to stay in touch with, especially Glenn. His autobiography, “Now Where Was I?” tells the story of the band very well, including the shady legal moves that ended up with the original members not owning the name. It’s one of the great travesties I’ve experienced in my very long time in music.
I first saw the group in the mid-1970s, when I was in Australia as part of a series of lectures I was involved in at the behest of the music industry in New Zealand and Australia. They were called “Mississippi” then, but I was blown away by the tightness of their three-part harmonies and the really original timbre of their sound. It seemed to me an amalgam of the California country rock scene and the harmonies of the Hollies. I came back to LA and in a conversation with Capitol A&R executive Rupert Perry, I told him how impressed I was. Two years later, he called me to invite me to see the group, now renamed Little River Band, at Santa Monica Civic. They sounded better than ever to me, especially their current hit, “It’s a Long Way There.” Rupert arranged for me to have lunch with the band and their manager, Glenn Wheatley, at Au Petit Café (remember that place?). We hit it off, and I was invited to produce their next album in Melbourne.
When I told my friends around town that I was headed Down Under, they thought I shouldn’t take the gig, but I kept hearing those harmonies in my head and I ignored their advice and went. This was not an idle decision, since my contract with Epic Records at the time only allowed me to do one outside project a year. I distinctly remember the 17-hour flight during which I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. Wheatley picked me up at the airport and we went straight to a rehearsal. It was just the three principals, Glenn Shorrock, Beeb Birtles, and Graham Goble with two acoustic guitars. They wanted to play me some new songs to get my reaction. The first songs they played were “Help Is On Its Way” and “Home on Monday.” I know people say they can hear a hit, and I’ve thought from time to time that I could, but the truth is, it’s a crap shoot. However, those two songs were so obviously good, that I knew I’d made the right move. We went to work at Armstrong Studios in South Melbourne with engineer Ross Cockle, who helped me immensely. In three weeks, I flew back with the 24-track masters and mixed them with my regular engineer, Paul Grupp, at Westlake Studios. Rupert Perry loved the album, and before I knew it, “Help Is On Its Way” was climbing the charts, followed by “Happy Anniversary,” Beeb’s breakup tune. “Home on Monday,” Glenn Shorrock’s love letter to his girlfriend, later wife, Jo Swann, became a staple at FM radio.
The group and I went on to do three more albums together, some of the best times I’ve ever had in the studio. I also did a solo album with Glenn Shorrock called “Villain of the Peace,” which I am very proud of although it was not a resounding success in the US. I am also very proud of the very eclectic body of work we created. “Reminiscing” and “Lonesome Loser” are about as far apart stylistically as you can get. Kudos from my colleagues were very rewarding as well. I remember Al Kooper coming up to me in the lounge of the Record Plant in the summer of 1979 asking, “How the fuck did you get that killer snare sound on “Cool Change?”
I know there are haters – every group has them, but you can probably guess what I think of that. I loved what my fellow Bard College friend Donald Fagen said when somebody asked him what he thought of the term “Yacht Rock.” I second that emotion.
I can’t imagine my career without those original six guys. There’s no question that they were in the vanguard of music from Australia finally making it to the world stage. The fact that their music still lives on in the culture is beyond gratifying.
Best,
John Boylan
