Terry Melcher

arrogant fuckwits..

PS. bugmenot.com has logins to all these shitty sign up websites..

Melcher, the son of actress Doris Day, died Friday night at his Beverly Hills home after a long battle with melanoma.

Melcher co-wrote the hit song "Kokomo" for the Beach Boys and performed on their album "Pet Sounds." The song was used in the movie "Cocktail," where it garnered a Golden Globe nomination in 1988 for best original song.

In the early 1960s, Melcher began singing as a solo act and later paired with future Beach Boy Bruce Johnston to form the group Bruce & Terry. The pair had several hits, then went on to form the Rip Chords, which recorded the 1964 hit "Hey, Little Cobra."

In the mid-1960s, Melcher joined Columbia Records as a producer. Working with the Byrds, he produced their top-selling version of Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" and other hits, including "Turn, Turn, Turn."

Melcher also produced hit songs for Paul Revere and the Raiders and during his career worked with Gram Parsons, the Mamas and the Papas and Ry Cooder.

He served as the executive producer of his mother's CBS show, "The Doris Day Show," from 1968 to 1972 and co-produced her mid-1980s show, "Doris Day's Best Friends."

Melcher also helped run his mother's charitable activities, including the Doris Day Animal Foundation.

In 1969, his name became linked with the grisly Charles Manson murders.

Melcher once rented the home where Sharon Tate and a group of her friends were murdered by Manson followers. Rumors circulated that Melcher, who knew Manson, was the real target because he had turned Manson down for a record contract.

Los Angeles police discounted the rumors. Melcher had since moved to Malibu and police established that Manson knew of his new address.

Melcher is survived by his mother, his wife, Terese, and his son Ryan.

Funeral services will be private.

Viva 'Kokomo'! Viva!

God, it's killing me that I can't remember.

Record's ok, but "Our National Anthem" is one of the great, lost harmony pop songs from the Sixties.

You're confusing him with the subject of my next Defend the Indefensible, Mike Love.

No, it's definitely Melcher -- I just can't remember where I read it.

Mr. Tambourine Man & Turn, Turn, Turn are fantastic productions.

Doris Day for a mom. Good deal.

(although to be fair there might be some kind of house rule about listing the most recent notable success first.)

Terry and Bruce Johnston's entrance into the surf music genre in 1964, missing the apex by a few years (3 years after Dick Dale's "Let's Go Trippin'" and the Beach Boys Surfin').

Most of the SoCal teen-rock bands had moved well onto cars/driving/drag by '64.

http://www.stevekdanceparty.com/melcher/


Both this LP and his follow-up Royal Flush (1976), are only available on original issue vinyl and import-only CD.

Joseph, that was it! Bingo! ILM!!

ah, the very very highs, and the very very lows

I would prefer to have written 'Secret Love'.

http://www.nndb.com/people/131/000081885/melcher-1-sized.jpg

yeah, you do.

anyone heard of John Simon? on amazon's melcher page, they suggested this with it. sounds good.

http://image.allmusic.com/00/amg/cov200/drg700/g753/g75387gux2w.jpg

Terry Melcher [Reprise, 1974]
Most will find this producer's daydream sterile at best and noxious at worst, but I like the song about his shrink and am fascinated by his compulsion to defend his Manson connections. With the requisite show of wealth and taste, he insists that he's only a spectator--why, he wouldn't even know about the hand jive if it weren't for Soul Train. Alternate title: It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Watching. B-

Anyone heard the followup?

http://www.dustedmagazine.com/reviews/2149

Artist: Terry Melcher
Album: Terry Melcher
Label: Collector's Choice
Review date: May. 12, 2005

Something is undeniably fascinating about vanity albums made by great record producers. Take, for example, Jack Nitzche's self-titled album, recorded for Reprise in 1974 but never released until the Rhino Handmade anthology Three Piece Suite came out in 2001. Nitzsche was largely responsible for the sound of Neil Young's Harvest and countless other pop masterpieces, but who knew that he really wanted to be a singer-songwriter in his own right? Aside from the fact that it's a beautiful album, it's great to hear the voice of such a legendary figure in the history of American music.

Terry Melcher, who died last year, hasn't been canonized with the same kind of cult hero status as Nitzsche, but his discography is awfully impressive. Early in his career, he had been an integral player in the surf music scene, both as a producer and with his own groups the Rip Chords and Bruce & Terry. Terry's mother, Doris Day, was a major shareholder in Columbia Records, which probably accounts for the fact that he was one of the youngest producers on the label's payroll. Melcher's most notable credits are for the first two LPs by the Byrds, who have more or less confirmed that he came up with the instantly recognizable 12-string jangle of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and their other early hits. Terry was also a close friend of the Beach Boys and was with them while they were recording Pet Sounds; he's credited for playing tambourine on two songs. It's also worth mentioning that he co-wrote "Kokomo," but he was well past his prime by then so we'll have to forgive him for that transgression.

Toward the end of the ’60s, Terry Melcher was hired as an independent producer by the Beatles' Apple label. While working for that company, he produced several singles for a fantastic but largely forgotten group called Grapefruit whose primary songwriter was the older brother of Malcolm and Angus Young of AC/DC. Unfortunately, Melcher's experience with Apple was soured because of an artist that he auditioned for the label: Charles Manson. Things didn't work out between Manson and Apple, and about a year later Sharon Tate and four of her friends were found dead in the house that she and Roman Polanski had rented from none other than Terry Melcher. Debate continues to this day as to whether or not Manson's intended target had been Terry, who had moved out of the house three months earlier. Understandably, Melcher became paranoid and concerned for his life afterwards and began to travel with bodyguards. His chain of bad luck continued when he was involved in a terrible motorcycle accident that nearly made him a double-amputee.

On first listen Terry Melcher's 1974 solo debut is a glitzy and somewhat awkward country-rock effort, but with repeated exposure the underlying darkness and despair creeps up from behind the wall of pedal steel guitars. The professional sheen of the production contrasts with Melcher's unschooled but heartfelt voice, soaked most of the time with a pretty heavy echo effect. The band is comprised entirely of studio musicians, but the album remains intensely personal. The hired guns, after all, were some of Melcher's closest and most trusted friends and confidants, including Ry Cooder, Hal Blaine and Chris Hillman. The album deals directly with Terry's experiences in the L.A. pop/folk/country-rock scene and addresses a very specific audience that probably didn't exist outside of his immediate group of peers. It's difficult to imagine that he expected the record buying public to closely relate to the ode "Beverly Hills," in which he disses inferior suburbs such as Brentwood and Pacific Palisades, and reminisces about the good old days of “dinner and some drinks at the Luau, Sunday brunch at Nate & Al's.” Elsewhere, he complains that he "can't even get along with (his) guru" and implores his psychiatrist to help him "come to grips" even though he's unsure that the shrink will be any more helpful than his flirtations with Christianity and vegetarianism.

A version of the Jackson Browne song "These Days," famously covered by Nico, is one of the most gut-wrenching moments on the album. Accompanied by a sparse string arrangement and a harmonica that sounds straight out of a Morriccone score, Melcher sings the song as a duet with his mother. When he addresses the closing line to her, "please don't confront me with my failures, I have not forgotten them," it is absolutely shattering. Terry also covers some pretty bleak Bob Dylan tunes. Two of them, in a medley near the end of the album, pretty much sum up Terry's position in life and in the music scene in 1974. "They said they were my friends, but when I was down you know they all just sat there and they were grinning," he sings, paraphrasing the opening lines to "Positively 4th Street," before he goes into a searing chorus of "Like A Rolling Stone." He seems to be singing to the famous friends who weren't there for him during his time of need, but he could just as easily have been singing about himself. He knew better than anyone what it felt like to be "like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone." It's an apt climax to this rich self-portrait of a once-great Hollywood record producer in the wake of his extremely unpleasant fall from grace.

By Rob Hatch-Miller

Also, there IS a big Stylus feature early in the pipeline that's kind of related to Melcher -- but only kind of.

have you heard don everly's "sunset towers"?

And no, I haven't heard the Everly — wassit like?

Have you HEARD any of the fucking records he produced????

http://www.spectropop.com/TerryMelcher/index.htm

it's like gene clark, michael nesmith or the melcher record

Let's revive this to talk about Terry's absolutely brilliant cover of the Byrds' "Just a Season" -- for me, the climax of his solo record:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgphAwCsaGQ

^ that one's so great.

i've been wanting to hear this song for a while, so finally just uploaded it to youtube myself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzq891MiWgE

anyone heard Royal Flush? just heard "Rebecca" off it and it was beautiful

I was diappointed by it -- but could be enticed back under the right circumstances.

Rebecca was the highlight off of Royal Flush for me. There are some other solid tracks, but nothing else is as earth shattering. Also, really love his cover of Roll in my Sweet Baby's arms

Also, really love his cover of Roll in my Sweet Baby's arms

yep that one's my favorite

Seven years later, just popping in to say “Yup.”

“Arkansas” from the s/t just popped up on my iTunes tonight while I was running to the grocery store. I love how this record has moments—“Arkansas,” “Stagger Lee”—that suggest the son of Doris Day saw himself as some sort of back country sage. There’s also a moment in this track when Melcher sings “I’m runnin’” – which just drops in this ghostly reverb that reminds you what an empty fucking castle this guy was living in.

All of which is to simply reaffirm that this record is the Citizen Kane of the El Lay country rock scene. I love it.

"Rebecca" from 'Straight Flush' is wonderful. Never really worked through his catalogue.

(echoing other upthread, I now realise)

*bump* after being sent here by the Doris Day thread.

Someone has to help me
To that prison I call home

whip crackaway whip crackaway whip crackaway

Lol

anybody know anything about some sessions (complete album?) Melcher produced for Gene Clark sometime in the early seventies, probably in between White Light and the Byrds reunion? I heard this mentioned somewhere, any info or confirmation??

Meant to say, “So *I* dismissed this … “

_According to Discogs, it would appear four tracks from that comp were from the sessions with Melcher.

That's an interesting discovery, I wonder if there were any other tracks from leftover projects used for Melcher's record, or if these aborted Clark sessions were the impetus for him starting his own album.

It's hard for me to see this record as more than an oddity, but what gets overlooked in a lot of the testimonials to how it's so wiped out and bleak is how much of it takes a sardonic, almost parodic point of view in the lyrics. I guess that's not incompatible with bleakness, but the original songs especially combine jaundice with humour. The covers try to be much more heartfelt.