DEAD MAN’S
CURVE:
Mark A. Moore relives The Rock ‘n’ Roll Life of JAN BERRY
I must confess that prior to the red-hot July of 1964, I’d never ever
heard anything quite like Tommy
Morgan’s harmonica solo on “The Little Old Lady (From Pasadena)” …Dylan vinyl
having not yet infiltrated my household, you understand. Two summers later, the
66-cent “Popsicle” 45 quickly became a most refreshing schoolyard treat while, flashing
forward to Christmastime 1972, it was none other than Keith
Moon ‘who’ recounted his very own – disastrous, of course – attempt at
hanging ten with the words “Jan and Dean never told it like it really was.
Certainly bloody didn’t!” within his equally gnarly Rolling Stone Interview.
But it wasn’t until cracking open United Artists’ legendary Jan & Dean Anthology Album, and
devouring Dave Marsh’s evocative liner notes therein, that I was inspired to
mount a truly dedicated, full-on search for any and all sounds of, and
information on, this intriguing duo. One which, as far as I was concerned, had more
than held their watery own against even those Beach Boys for a whole
decade and counting.
So soon came Paul Morantz’s authoritative “The Road Back from Dead Man’s Curve”
Rolling Stone study, two years after
Moonie’s, while Jan’s old partner in rhyme, Dean O. Torrence Himself, broke his
own silence via Mick Farren in the New
Musical Express and then Ken Barnes in the July 1975 Phonograph Record.
Then, just as those dreaded Seventies were finally
coming to a close, that quite sunny/funny Deadman’s Curve [sic!] made-for-TV bio-pic was followed by
actual Jan & Dean reunion performances – their first in over a decade! –
opening for, naturally, Wilsons, Love & Co. in enormo-domes clear cross the
USA. The guys even made it to my home turf for a perfectly picturesque show
right there on the banks of Lake Ontario in the Summer of 1980 …and a couple of
months later I duly made the trek myself all the way cross-continent to Surf
City where, answering a Musicians Wanted ad, I almost signed on to tour
Australia as bassist behind J&D. Only problem was my bass guitar, not to
mention my passport, were still MIA somewhere back in the suburbs of Toronto.
Oh, well…
Over the many years since there have indeed been many many additional articles,
interviews, television specials and even books (e.g.: Bob Greene’s candidly
behind-the-scenes When We Get To Surf
City) regarding the Titanic Twosome. But it wasn’t until Mark A. Moore’s 450-page-plus,
day-by-day, blow-by-blow Jan & Dean Record chronology in 2016 that the serious study
of their music and, yes, art commenced. And while that book remains the undeniable go-to reference work on
the subject matter, Mark has now added to this California saga considerably,
his eagle-eared attention to detail more than intact, with a too-long-awaited
biography of the one, the only Jan Berry.
Most astutely, succinctly characterizing the man as, and I quote, “brilliant,
charismatic, reckless, and flawed,” Jan’s 62 years on planet Earth encompass
all new dynamics, to put it mildly, around the words “roller coaster”: From his blessed Bel Air upbringing to his
pioneering efforts at establishing what would become known the world over as
The California Sound (yes, before Dick Dale, Phil Spector, or even Brian
Wilson) Jan power-shifted through the first half of the Sixties playing bona
fide all-singing, all-writing-and-arranging,
all-producing Pop Star by night while, somehow simultaneously, pursuing studies
at UCLA and the California College of Medicine in Physics, Zoology and
Mammalian Physiology …until, that is, the horrific events of April
12, 1966 which, as had somehow been predicted within the grooves of the
very record which gave this book its name, left the man battling both physical
and emotional demons for his remaining three decades. Dead Man’s Curve tells that complete tumultuous tale, absolutely.
But it also furrows deep, shines light, then adds color, weight and substance
to the myriad people, places and events merely cataloged throughout Mark’s Record, whilst banishing forever so many
of the myths and misconceptions behind Jan, Dean, and their undeniable role in
the very genesis of the Los Angeles rock scene.
It has been a work entailing considerable undertows plus countless hours and
miles. “The book was a long time coming,” Mark admits. “Events in my life and
career conspired to keep it on the back burner, but it was always there,
bubbling close to the rim.” And the man has indeed risen far above such challenges with magnificent results; just as a
figure as gifted, complicated, tragic, yet ultimately triumphant as Jan Berry
surely deserves.
“It’s the culmination of my research, and I couldn’t have done it without Jan
and his family, professional colleagues, and friends.
“The response has been great.
Jan’s original partner Arnie Ginsburg recently reached out to tell me how much
he’s enjoying the book, and that he’s learning a lot. He appreciates the level
of research.
“It means a lot when participants in Jan’s story react favorably, especially
one of the guys who helped start the whole thing. Fan reaction has also been
positive. As a writer, you can’t please everyone. But it’s nice when readers
take the time to say the book is a page-turner that’s difficult to put down or
acknowledge the depth of the research. Not to mention when fans learn something
they didn’t know before, about an artist they’ve liked for a long time.
“But beyond the fans, I wrote
this book to educate people about Jan Berry, and about Jan & Dean – about
the early days of rock ‘n’ roll in Southern California, and the rise of the
West Coast Sound. For those who might be lukewarm on the topic, or peripherally
interested through other artists, I hope Dead Man’s Curve will provide not only an introduction, but also a
treasure trove of information beyond what they might have expected.”
Those treasures, and many others as well, can be found right there at Mark’s
long-curated Jan Berry Official
Website,
and The Book Itself is always Available Right
Here.
oh, and Happy Birthday, Jan, on April the 3rd.
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