COPPERHEAD

Copperhead was a short-lived hard rock group led by John Cipollina, who played guitar for Quicksilver Messenger Service until leaving that band in 1970 following such classic discs as 1969's Happy Trails and their first, self-titled record from 1968. At first, Copperhead was a loose association of musicians centered around Cipollina, but eventually Copperhead tightened up into the four-piece lineup that recorded their sole, self-titled 1973 LP, and that appears at this show. The show, recorded at Winterland in San Francisco, includes four songs from that album, including single "Roller Derby Star." It also features a few tracks that would have appeared on their second LP, which Columbia refused to release after Clive Davis, who signed Copperhead, was fired from his position as President of the label.

The band's vocal duties were split between bass player Jim McPherson, whose gruff singing style can be heard on "Wang Dang Doo," and Gary Philippet, who sings lead on several tunes here, including the "Roller Derby Star" b-side, "Chameleon." Copperhead also took stabs at more reflective, ballad-type tracks like "Keeper of the Flame," which appears here but has no released version on record. That track is directed by Cipollina's distinctive, trebly leads into heady, psychedelic territory less than three minutes before gradually moving back into the delicate piano-driven groove on the verses. "Wrong Time" was written by Gary Wright of British hard rock group Spooky Tooth, and receives an impassioned rendition here.

Taken from the Bill Graham archives, this show is an interesting artifact of a band that is hardly documented beyond their studio album and a live LP that is now out-of-print. After this group, Cipollina continued to be active on the music scene, working with bands like Zero, Terry & the Pirates, and the Novato Frank Band, collaborating and touring with long-time friend Nick Gravenites on many projects, and releasing one solo LP in 1980, Raven. Cipollina passed away due to emphysema in 1989 after a few years of battling respiratory problems.

Formed by psychedelic guitar hero John Cipollina after leaving Quicksilver Messenger Service in 1970, this sadly short-lived quartet released one fine album in May 1973. That September they played this superb set at San Francisco's legendary Winterland Ballroom, taking in most of thrie album and showcasing their unrivalled jamming talents, with Cipollina's searing guitar leads to the fore throughout.

DIGITALLY REMASTERED

My first project upon leaving Quicksilver Messenger Service was to produce an album by Jim Murray, who was originally in Quicksilver with me - we were the first two members. The fact that the album never appeared could be attributed to 'record company hang-ups'... There was this crazy kid who had come out from Boston with Earl Weinstein (of Copperhead's management) and he was real red hot - he kept calling me up, and I eventually got to meet him at this guitar show that I get involved in every year in Mill Valley. He walked up and said 'Hi, my name's David Weber. I'm a drummer, and I mean a good drummer'. 'Well,' I thought, 'this guy's really off the wall, I might as well chance it, see where he's at,' and when the time came that I needed a drummer, I called him up.

So, round he came, and I stuck him in a corner in my living room; there's a little alcove which is a perfect drum booth, and this floor heater with a rug over it makes a perfect conga stand. So anyway, we started playing and David became a regular visitor. Whenever musicians dropped by for a jam or to party, David would come over to drum, so he became a logical choice for Copperhead... Around this time (winter 1970) I had thoughts of producing this other guy called Mark Unobsky, who's a super guitar player and has shown me all sorts of picking styles - writes great songs and sings and plays. He was later in the original Copperhead, too.

There was a jam at my parents' house (they have a very large living room), a sort of rehearsal for a live radio show that a bunch of people were going to do. My little brother Mario was playing bass, Jerry Garcia pedal steel, Pete Sears was on piano, Micky Waller on drums and then Mark and I joined in. Well, Mark had never played with other people before but I plugged him in and away he went; whenever he gets excited he plays more precisely and faster and then he gets crazy - and he just began to blow everyone away. He subsequently became Copperhead's guru, spiritual adviser and weapons expert. He taught everybody in Copperhead to throw knives. We're all pretty good knifethrowers now, and he's also improved our shooting - we're pretty good shots, too. Him and another guy called Jim Jensen were really the strong influences outside the group - Jim was a crazy wizard / jeweller / sculptor and has helped us with lyrics too (he did Kamikaze).

Anyway, Pete came round to see me (at Mark's insistence), and we played a lot more stuff together. He flipped out over my collection of Winchesters, said 'OK if I stay here?' and I said 'Sure'. (Nicky Hopkins did the same - fell in love with the same room and ended up staying 14 months.) Pete was there about six months, I guess, and we did a lot of partying, jamming, running around... We had a kind of gang revolving around me, Pete and David the drummer. Pete left and came back - went to play with John Baldry, and to do another Rod Stewart album, then he came back and joined Copperhead.

David knew this guitarist called Jim McPherson, who he said was really super. He gave me such a hype on him that I called him up. So he came over, we checked the situation out and found we liked each other - he got along with my music, I got along with his morbid sense of humour... anyway, it turned out that he could also play piano, but was really a bass-player. Well, my brother Mario, who was only 16 and was playing bass for us, found it kind of strange playing with all these crazy people at night and going to school during the day, so he decided to divert all his energies into his studying and Jim moved to bass, doubling on piano. Then we brought in Gary Phillippet.

I'd known Gary for about four years prior to our playing in Copperhead - he and I were managed by the same people when I was in Quicksilver and he was in Freedom Highway - and we did a lot of gigs together. Then I didn't see him for years until one day he hitchhiked over in the rain to give me an old Remington rolling block, which I thought was really far out. Anyway, my then-current manager was advising me to check out Gary as a potential group member, and all of a sudden we all came together - five guys, plus Mark ... Copperhead was ready!

We started playing the weirdest gigs; we played a private party in Mexico for Alexandro Jodorowsky, the guy who directed El Topo, and then we did the Crater Festival in Hawaii, and altogether we played a lot of very strange places. We started to get into the club scene and the bizarre private party scene. Copperhead was always a bizarre band and a band of change. It touched on a lot of musicians, and was more of a concept than anything else. It was never a solid group in that sense, even though everyone who's ever been in it remains a lifetime member - l still keep in touch with them all. For instance, Pete Sears left, and Jim Hutchinson, a friend of Gary's, came in to replace him,- but I still see Pete a lot. He and I are thinking of starting a club for fliers; he's got his pilot's licence and I'm trying to get mine.

We ended up signing with Just Sunshine, but Copperhead was always a rather unstable unit. People had trouble understanding us, and somehow there was a clash between our manager, who had the band's interests as his primary concern, and the record company, who somehow weren't clicking or at least didn't seem to appreciate what we were about. So, we reopened negotiations with Clive Davis of Columbia and signed with them - and, for a while, everything was going great. You see, in the first place, we wanted to play, do gigs, but the whole scene had changed. You couldn't get gigs until you had an album out, and you couldn't get an album out until you had gigs!"

We cut the album which was a party - but there again, it wasn't enough of a party. The trouble was that we were just looking for an excuse to go out and play live. That's what we really wanted to do. But the only place we had to play in was the studio, so we recorded 15 tunes and put eight of them on the record. But there was a perspective missing, and the pause when we switched labels kind of threw us. We felt we were really smart signing with Columbia, because we'd refused to deal with anybody but the president - we were really being cool, getting it together with Clive Davis, Mr Rock'n'Roll, and then all of a sudden Clive got his walking orders. Then Jim McPherson, the piano player, disappeared, and everybody was saying 'Hey, why aren't you playing?' and then we decided 'to hell with gigs - let's write some more music. So we wrote some more music.

All Columbia knew was that we were Clive's boys - and they weren't sure what to do. They couldn't believe the figures involved. 'Why did Clive spend so much on these guys? Who are they?' And we were nowhere to be seen! We were out playing some exotic party somewhere, and we sort of got lost. Maybe they didn't think it was a good album, I don't know. They sold every copy that they printed, nevertheless - sold them all in four days or something like that, and as far as I know, they don't intend to press and release any more. We haven't heard any sales figures since the first week, when they told us 17,000. But you can't buy it anywhere in the San Francisco area - so, like I say, I can't understand what makes record companies tick. There are seven tracks still in the can, but I don't think Columbia would go for releasing them on any new album. They think of them as rejects from the first sessions."

We're thinking of recording again, but this time, we don't go into the studio until we feel right. We've got a lot of songs, but we're still looking for a piano player and a better relationship with Columbia. Clive always had faith in us. If Clive was still there, we'd have gone all the way; we'd have toured and sold records, I'm sure. But the whole scheme of things has changed since he left and we've become a really elusive band; we can't figure Columbia out, and they sure as hell can't fathom us out. We became branded as 'one of Clive's groups' - or else they assumed we were dope writeoffs. I don't know. I do know that they never ever ran an ad on the album.

Copperhead has always had this philosophy which permeates all the members, past and present: we're a good-time band, we have a good time and cause a good time, we're pleasant troublemakers - so the Columbia situation in no way hangs us up. "The last time I spoke to the people there, I told them that one of my biggest disappointments was not being taken out to lunch anymore! I'm not going back into the studio till I get at least two big dinners and a lunch! And some reassurance. I mean, it is my business.

[Edited version of John Cipollina's words from Pete Frame's "John Cipollina in the 70's" from] Zigzag, April 1975