I heard all their stuff, and I was overwhelmed. I didn't just like 'em, I loved 'em. I thought they had tremendous potential (Terry Knight, Discoveries, February 2000).

In the mid-'60s, Fort Worth, Texas, boasted one of America's most happening rock 'n roll scenes. As the Fort Worth Weekly reports (December 17 2003):

Fort Worth was a hotbed of garage band activity with its own infrastructure... There were teen clubs, like the Box, the Candy Stick, the legendary after-hours Cellar, the Jolly Time Teen Hop, and a multitude of converted skating rinks and rec centers with 'A-Go-Go' appended to their names, where kids flocked by the hundreds every weekend to cheer on their local heroes in battles of the bands. And there were even TV shows dedicated to the infernal racket (Teen-A-Go-Go, Panther-A-Go-Go).

From this milieu arose many talented musicians from many different bands with many different styles - several of whom would slowly but surely converge into one of the greatest, and most perplexing, acts in rock history...

The Naturals, 1965
L-R: Nick Taylor, Dean Parks, Jim Rutledge & Ed Grundy.

High schoolers Nick Taylor, Dean Parks, Jim Rutledge and Ed Grundy formed a band called The Naturals. The year was 1962. They toured the region playing at battle of the bands, independently released a 45 ('Hey Girl' / 'I Want You') and opened locally for national acts like The Beach Boys, Paul Revere & The Raiders and The Five Americans (also from Fort Worth).

As Nick Taylor (December 16 2003) remembers:

We played sock hops, what you would call teenage nightclubs, from 1963 on. We all sang a few songs - although Jim, who had the best voice, took the lead spot. We all had a solo, what we'd call a 'ramp song' - each of us would put down their instrument and go out on to the ramp where the audience was and sing our song. We did that from '65 through '68. My ramp song was 'You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling.'

Rival local band leader John Nitzinger (interviewed by the Fort Worth-based Star-Telegram, August 8 2004) recalls the 'A Go-Go' days:

It was a popularity contest. Your part of town was where you were the most popular. You go to another part of town, the band from that part of town was the most popular, which means there was always a little sense of danger. No fisticuffs, but there were damn sure the egos and the one-upmanship - who had the newest boots, the better-looking jacket? It was a trip.

In '66 The Naturals became the Crowd +1, independently releasing a Byrds-inflected cover of Harlan Howard's tear-jerking 'Mary Ann Regrets' (a hit for Hank Snow) with the fab original B-side 'Whatcha Tryin' To Do.'

Meanwhile, Nitzinger's first band, The Barons, produced four 45s between '65 and '66, all written by Nitzinger. Their best release was their third, a Dylanesque anti-war rocker 'Don't Burn It' (b/w 'I Hope I Please You' [Brownfield 1035]).

The Barons, 1966
Nitzinger, far left.

Also arising from the bustling Fort Worth scene was guitarist Bill Ham, whose band The Nomads released a 'Twist And Shout'-styled raver 'Be Nice' (b/w 'Empty Heart' [Spotlight 5019]) in 1966.

One of Fort Worth's leading luminaries was Terry 'T-Bone' Burnett who, in addition to cutting some of the best 45s with his own group, co-owned the local Sound City Studios which many a garage band kept busy. His partner was Rutledge (who showed an early inclination for production - and surrounding himself with talent). In such a capacity, Rutledge first worked with Nitzinger.

Ray Brooks, the Naturals' manager, offers background on the Fort Worth teen scene and the development of the band (in an interview with original Bloodrock fan site webmasters Carl Bratcher and Roy Long, March 23 2001):

I was their manager in 1965-66 and co-produced their local hit 'Hey Girl' and took them to the photo session in the Beatle suits. I worked with Jimmie Rutledge when he was in high school doing a summer job, along with his Dad, Charlie, and went to school at Burleson where Eddie [Grundy] went.

Jimmie was working in a machine shop on the burr bench while his dad and I were machinists - must have been '64 or '65. He was attending Pascal High School in south Fort Worth with Lee Pickens (although they didn't get together till later). He knew I was managing a band called Jack & The Rippers and asked me to manage his band, the Naturals, and the rest is history.

I bought them a PA and we played car lots, teen joints called Holiday A Go-Go, Teen A Go-Go, Action A Go-Go, and the 'Box.' This was when Dean Parks was still in the band, with Doyle [Nick Taylor], Eddie and Jimmie on drums doing vocals.

Poster for an Action A Go-Go show
featuring The 'Superb' Naturals and The 'Great' Barons
1965.

We went in to a studio to record 'Hey Girl' and while we were at it this bimbo came in with her sugar daddy and he wanted to know how much we would charge to back her up on a song. I looked at the engineer and asked, 'How much is our bill?' and he told me - and I said, 'That's how much we charge.' So that's how I became a 'big time' producer, ha.

A little side note here: Lee Pickens was known for his mischievous antics and once flew his family plane over Pascal High School on a game night and dropped purple and white toilet paper (the school colors) all over the playing field during a football game. He got in a lotta trouble for that, needless to say.

There was a discordant fuss (1966) among the Naturals with Jimmie demanding that that the guys let their hair grow out long. Eddie and Doyle finally relented, but Dean wouldn't have any part of it because of his ultra-conservative Dad.

Of all the competing acts in the Fort Worth area, the Crowd +1 was the band that captured the brass ring.

In 1966, they signed a 45's deal with Capitol Records and released two discs between '66 and '67. All songs were penned by the multi-instrumentalist Parks. The first, 'Try' / 'Don't Hold Back' (Capitol 2259), offers up shimmering Brit-invasion power-pop on the A-side while the flip mines the garage-psych-soul of Henrdix-era Isleys. The second, 'Circles' / 'Most Peculiar Things' (Capitol ---) pairs Simon & Garfunkle sunniness (complete with string section) on the A with dissonant, sax-driven trippiness on the B. The protean music and eccentric lyrics easily suggest the later talents of Bloodrock.

The Crowd +1, 1966.
Rutledge, Parks, Grundy & Taylor.

Despite a growing regional fanbase, the 45s failed to chart and Capitol dropped the group. Soon after, Parks left the group to embark upon a prestigious session career in LA. At this point, Rutledge assumed leadership.

Meanwhile, Bill Ham left the Nomads and formed another band, The Rocks, with local keyboardist Stevie Hill. Warren Ham remembers meeting Hill in those days (in conversation, July 10 2003): 'I used to tag along. I'd fall asleep behind the drum kit.' (There are no recordings of this band.)

Bill Ham then went to LA to join The Yellow Payges, contributing great guitar and songwriting to their first - and last - LP (Volume 1 [1969 Uni 73045]). The band's early demise was brought on by their management's decision to lease them out as 'official teen ambassadors' for an AT&T; ad campaign. (In the heady era of the counterculture, when 'ripping off Ma Bell' was part of youth's resistance to the war, singing the praises of the telecommunications behemoth would have instantly vaporized almost any group's credibility.)

Yellow Payges, 1970
Bill Ham, second from left.

At this time, Hill moved on to the Crowd +1. As he recalls (in conversation, September 10 2004):

I remember hearing 'Most Peculiar Things,' with that wild saxophone break, on the radio in Fort Worth. That was some single, a real big deal. I said to myself, 'Now, there's a band I'd like to work with.'

The new Crowd +1 (who had also recently added lead guitarist Lee Pickens, from The Atomic Clock) followed the national trend towards heavier music and began dominating the regional scene.

Mike Haskins, from the punk-era Nervebreakers, recalls (in conversation, December 8 2004) seeing the Crowd +1 'kicking ass' in 1969:

I saw the Crowd +1 several times at the National Guard Armory Friday night dance in Irving, Texas (Dallas suburb). These weekly shows featured two bands, alternating sets, two sets each, with a light show. I don't know who booked these shows, but the bands were usually very good. The Crowd +1 was certainly one of the hippest to play there. Lee Pickens wailed on a Fender Strat and red Gibson SG through a Marshall stack. He was featured on 'Crosstown Traffic.' I remember hearing 'Sunshine Of Your Love' and the Soft Machine tune 'A Certain Kind.' Their 'new original, recorded for our upcoming first album,' 'Castle Of Thoughts,' was the only non-cover tune I heard.

I would go sit on the River Levee at Trinity Park in Fort Worth and watch Crowd +1 perform outdoor free concerts every weekend to gain more fans and get their chops down.

* Stevie Hill (with the Crowd + 1)
Trinity Park, Fort Worth, 1969.

Lee Pickens (in conversation, May 13 2004) remembers the Crowd +1 performing 'In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida' in their formative days:

We had the drum solo down totally perfect according to the record. Every heavy rock band did that. That was a must.

Jack Calmes, founder of ShowCo and Bloodrock's manager, recalls (in conversation, January 9 2004) Bloodrock's early days:

I first met the Crowd +1 guys in the late '60s because ShowCo - in those days - was a booking agency and concert promoter. We booked them on frat party gigs and as an occasional opening act on concerts. My partner at early ShowCo and I were also promoters of the Texas Pop Festival (Labor Day '69) where we had Grand Funk play for all three days as the opening act - Capitol paid us $1000 per day to put them on at the behest of their manager Terry Knight. This was the context where Terry got to hear Crowd +1 and made his decision to sign them, so in that sense I had some kind of peripheral karmic role in their discovery.

Terry Knight in the pages of Billboard
December 1970.

Terry Knight's career starts as Detroit's legendary AM radio DJ in the early Sixties where (according to music writer Otto von Ruggins, online 1998) 'He played the British music invasion before it happened.' From there, he assumed a singer's position with a local band (including teenagers Mark Farner and Don Brewer) which he re-named Terry Knight & the Pack. Their 1966 version of 'I (Who Have Nothing)' (Lucky Eleven LE-230) rose to number 46 on the national charts. During this time, Knight produced a JayHawkers 45, 'Come On (Children)' (Lucky Eleven 232), which features the first known instance of backwards guitar. In 1967, Knight scored the music for The Incident, a thriller featuring Martin Sheen's screen debut.

Knight signed with Capitol Records in 1969. His legend as pop culture iconoclast begins at this point with his 45 'Saint Paul' (Capitol 2506) which jump-started the 'Paul-Is-Dead' Beatles rumor; in New Zealand, a cover of the song by Shane (Hales) (HMV HR364) was the biggest selling single of the '60s. Soon after, Knight brought forth Grand Funk Railroad from the ashes of his former band - and scrapped his singing career for a leading role in A&R.;

In addition to producing some of the first platinum LPs in rock history, thus bringing heavy metal into the commericial mainstream, Knight designed trade advertisements and album covers with a unerring instinct for the outrageous. His over-the-top promotional style reached its zenith with the infamous liner notes to GFR's 1972 greatest hits package Mark, Don & Mel (Capitol 11042) in which the boys from Flint are compared to Adam, Moses and Jesus.

For several years Knight and an army of major music critics conducted a flamboyant feud through reviews and advertisements. Famously, Knight took out trade ads in all major music publications, including Rolling Stone, which featured himself giving the finger to his many detractors. As Knight recalled (October 29 2003): 'That was just a snapshot of me goofing off, it was just a funny gesture about how terrible Terry Knight was. For all the critics, it was a big 1-800-FUCK-YOU.' Rolling Stone's response to such antics was especially bitter. (Although Bloodrock was not actually managed by Knight - Capitol employed his services only as staff producer for them - Rolling Stone failed to make that distinction, a factor that would eventually have grave repercussions for Bloodrock.)

As Terry Knight recounts the tale (in conversation, November 21 2003) a certain airline stewardess who was Rutledge's 'mistress' pleaded with the Capitol scout to check out the hot Texas band as he headed to the Texas Pop Festival. And they were hot - Knight signed them to the label almost within two weeks of hearing them.

As Steve Hill (August 10 2003) remembers:

I was the youngest member of the band, 19 - still a minor. My parents had to co-sign my contract with Capitol.

Terry Knight continues the tale (in Discoveries, February 2000):

One of the reasons [Capitol signed Bloodrock] without even hearing the band was, frankly, that I wielded so much power at the record company that it was unnecessary for anybody but me to have heard them... Part of the deal, I told Capitol, was I would put them on the Grand Funk tour.

To which he adds (in conversation, October 29 and November 10 2003):

Great band, Bloodrock. I gave them their name, they were called the Crowd +1 - not a very effective name. Blood had a menacing feel and Rock had substance. It was a concept name, I also designed the first album cover.

Nick Taylor (in conversation, December 16 2003):

It was Knight who came up with the name Bloodrock. There were a lot of names under consideration. One was Moonrock - named after the Moon landing of that year. Knight was a very 'in control' person - but he did a great deal for us.

Bloodrock dispels the often-promulgated myth that Knight was too lazy to or could not produce a decent rock record - the debut is a proto-grunge classic.

Like GFR's debut, which was recorded a few months earlier, Knight brought the band to Cleveland Recording Co. Anticipating the punk (and later grunge) aesthetic, all of Knight's LP productions were recorded in mere days. His engineer was invariably Kenneth Hamann (brought to prominence by his earlier work on The Lemon Pipers' trash masterpiece 'Green Tambourine').

The first outstanding characteristic of the band heard on Bloodrock is the band's unique sound.

Whereas most bands of the era followed the power-trio formula of hot shot guitar at the center of each tune, Bloodrock continued employing classic rhythm guitar - in addition to Hammond B-3 which provided, at turns, second rhythm and alternate soloist. This prompted tightly organized ensemble arrangements and careful studio mixing. As Grundy (bass) and Taylor (rhythm guitar) worked minimalist magic on collectively textured riffs (often employing jazzy fifths in 'heavy' sections), Rutledge (vocals), Hill (keyboards) and, most dramatically on the first record, Pickens (lead guitar) took turns shredding the scenery. An obvious key to Bloodrock's stadium success was their easy ability to duplicate their (live) studio sound.

Nick Taylor (in conversation, December 16 2003) describes the Bloodrock process of composing material:

Most songs came up in rehearsal. Someone would have a riff and the rest of the band would embellish upon it, build it up. Jim usually wrote the words, although Rick also did later on. Stevie would give a lot of musical input, he pretty well wrote a lot of the material.

Terry Knight (in conversation, November 21 2003) recalls:

With Bloodrock, it was two days for [recording] an album. Each song was well-written out in advance and they played them all for me in rehearsal. They were pretty intricate performances, the placement of all the instruments was a challenging venture. I took liberties to rearrange some of them and they would come back in a week to play them for me the new way. I don't remember them ever challenging any of my suggestions. Mixing took about three weeks for each album.

Despite the connection to Grand Funk Railroad through Knight's production, there is absolutely no basis for comparison between bands.

One big difference is the lead guitar: while it took GFR's Mark Farner no less than five albums before turning in a credible performance (E Pluribus Funk), Pickens' work from the onset is as exciting - and exacting - as any true Guitar God of the '70s (such as Jeff Beck or Frank Zappa). Sure enough, Pickens' speeding serpentine leads (always baked in a wah-wah mid-range) are unpredictable and clever. He stands among the very top guitarists in rock.

Lee Pickens (in conversation, January 1 2004) describes his gear:

As for as the equipment I used to use, at least in Bloodrock (and for the most part in LPG), I used Marshall amps, Wah-Wah, and Univibe, and a phase shifter, or was it a shape shifter. I also used, with the Acoustic brains, two 6 ten cabinets. Also, I used a lot of Bacardi Lite rum, with coke and lemon.

Then, there's the riffage from which the songs are sculpted: as expected, a barely competent guitarist placed in the role of sole songwriter (such as Farner) can hardly be expected to provide much actual music; Bloodrock, on the other hand, enjoyed composers in all members (often in group collaboration), using as well select (often exclusive) covers - and finger-lickin' riffs are generously supplied throughout each tune.

Bloodrock most notably hired Nitzinger to pen many of their songs.

Nick Taylor (in conversation, December 16 2003) recalls:

With Nitzinger's tunes, he would come to rehearsals and play them and then we would learn them. Our sound was different from his, though, and they'd come out differently than he might have always liked. We always put our stamp on the songs we did.

I asked Terry Knight (November 10 2003) about the style of both GFR and Bloodrock. His response:

It was very different material with each band. They were both at the cutting edge of their style, though. GFR had a basic, uneducated, visceral style. Bloodrock's performances were studious and mathematical; their songs were like algebraic computations.

Although his greatest production achievement is indisputably GFR's 'I'm Your Captain,' Knight's theatrical recording style - booming reverb, wild panning and liberal use of sound effects - were better suited to Bloodrock's denser, more dynamic, sound.

The record's opener, 'Gotta Find A Way' (issued in severely edited form as a 45 [Capitol 2736]), is a sonic horror flick. The droning, low-fi intro chords suggest Daydream Nation crossed with the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, then the nightmare expands into a gnarled fist of incompatible noises - busy dial-tone chords, runaway keys, flipping-out guitar, tribal drumming, schizophrenic voices* and a growling narration of proletarian distemper:

You walk 1000 miles before the sun has begun to rise;
You think about the things to do and then you realize
You work all day and you sleep all night
Just to get up and do it again;
Take your pay and you rest one day you think
You'll never reach the end -
(Pub. 1970 Ledgefield Music)

It's a freaky, creepy masterpiece (and probably a good thing Charlie Manson preferred Paul McCartney songs).

Jim Rutledge (with Bloodrock)
at the Man & Earth Festival.

The next track is similar but more consolidated. There's a bit less jamming but an extra riff or two. Again, tribal drumming (from Rutledge, who does a fine job throughout the first record), this time with rude cowbell. The intro is classic Deep Purple guitar-organ speed dueling, but the climbing hook is pure MC5. The vocals are tortured, but there's a faint trace of trippiness - 'Here I stand in the castle of my thoughts... Here I stand in the cottage of my dreams.' Pickens blazes throughout with his measured mix of fluidity and sustain.

Next up is 'Fatback,' a slower number with more sonic space. The primary riff is bass and piano, a weird thumping backbeat which is resolved by a coolly simple guitar twang. On top, Rutledge slurs a simple psychedelic yarn while, a couple of verses later, Pickens releases the best backwards guitar solo in the entire history of rock n' roll. Stunning - and subtle.

Nitzinger's songwriting debut, 'Double Cross,' moves the band into Free territory with a hearty stomping riff and ultra-macho vocals. 'Well my friends all told me 'bout the things you said, huh! When I get you ya gonna be dead.' An unexpected descending chord progression for the chorus takes the band in the direction of the early Who before returning to its core riff - and another chance for Pickens to wail across the grooves.

The last track on side one is super-elemental metal, a slow-motion canvas of execution day despair - ripped mercilessly from a million 19th century blues laments and electrocuted thoroughly with a corresponding number of watts. Immortal clichés are delivered like thunderbolts from Olympus: downer arpeggio, grunting narration, Troggs' power chords, stinging leads, thundering organ, even the 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)' power-cut at the end - it's all there (plus a few eerie sound effects for good measure).

Steve Hill recalls (July 5 2003): 'A Canadian group, the Churls, came though Fort Worth and we heard them do this song [credited to O'Neill-Ames], loved it and recorded it.'

Crunch! What a side. Everyone who bought Bloodrock in its vinyl inception easily got their money's worth before turning it over.

Side two is redolent of an earlier '60s. The four tunes mix equal portions trippy and heavy: cheesy riffs springing from evil ones, acid damage lyrics, even brooding organ on one epic-length track.

Bloodrock shows off ample pop smarts on 'Gimmie Your Head,' a two-minute tour-de-force (written entirely by Ed Grundy) blending one incredibly infectious riff, a jazzy counterpoint melody, a soaring Revolver chorus and a smashing Zeppelin hook. Pickens drills lunatic leads into the band's tightwire performance while Rutledge's vocals are as passionate as the words are ridiculous:

I'll take you places to where you never been
'Bout the things you've never been thinkin';
Chris dropped a record, gonna take it from his hide
Gotta be collected;
Gimmie your head, gimmie your head;
I've seen things that I can recall
I've heard things that I never heard at all -
(Pub. 1970 Ledgefield Music)

Meanwhile, Nitzinger's 'Wicked Truth' (featuring vocals by Nick Taylor) fuses Steppenwolf scrappiness with Iron Butterfly weirdness, and the epic 'Fantastic Piece Of Architecture' (one of Hill's first compositions) ponders mortality with a stark gothic psychedelia.

The last track on the album, Nitzinger's 'Melvin Laid An Egg,' is noteworthy for its broad self-effacing humor. Over an annihilating fuzz riff, Rutledge rages 'I just wanna go home and have myself an ice cream cone' - and soon after that, the chorus dissolves into the soft rock harmonies of the Association. (Additionally, the bald-headed Melvin Laird was 10th Secretary of Defense under Nixon; Steve Hill confirms Nitzinger's intention was left-leaning ridicule.)

To promote the album, Capitol placed an ad for it in Billboard, featuring the provocative text:

BLOODROCK
ROCK the 'hard' variety IS A REFLECTION OF THE TIMES.
BLOODROCK is simply a clearer mirror than most.
A group of five musicians from Texas. Product of the times.

We Remember The Sixties
- Assassinations
- Race Riots
- Individual Violence
- Military
- Think Tanks-US Defense
- Crime Rate
- Student Rebellion
- Murder Rate

Shortly after the LP was recorded, Bloodrock picked up Austin-area drummer Rick Cobb, from a power-trio called The Chevelles. With Rutledge moved into the traditional singer's role of frontman (at Knight's behest), Bloodrock hit the festival circuit - catching fire.

Chet Flippo, writing for Rolling Stone, August 6 1970, picks up the story (without doubt the finest media account of the band - as well as a charming representation of the era):

The Festival of Man and Earth, May 30th-June 1st at Thunderbird Beach, Louisiana, near Baton Rouge. Hard country. As we commence our narrative, we zoom in on a Louisiana-bound airplane. On board are six members of an up-and-coming young Texas group. This will be their third festival [they debuted at the legendary Atlanta Pop Festival] and they are eager for the exposure.

The group is Bloodrock, from the unlikely city of Fort Worth. They've been hassled and searched and rousted in Louisiana before, when they did a gig in the Warehouse in New Orleans, so they're ready for whatever type of instant-justice Governor John McKeithen's Finest may dispense.

Mainly, though, they're eager to play.

They can afford the luxury of flying rather than driving because they're starting to get some out-of-state gigs, playing openers for concerts by people like Hendrix and GFR and Lee Michaels. Too, their album is starting to move and they're getting ready to cut a second one. And they're getting festival gigs and a Fillmore East appearance and even a Central Park gig with Fleetwood Mac.

While the group flies, their road manager, David Hickey, and their equipment handler, John Hopkins, are wheeling a U-Haul van full of equipment down from Fort Worth.

Time to introduce the central characters: Jim Rutledge is the lead singer, Lee Pickens is the lead guitarist, Nick Taylor plays rhythm, Steve Hill on organ, Ed Grundy on bass, Rick Cobb on drums. The flight is uneventful and they get their four motel rooms in Baton Rouge (this festival pays $2000 for two appearances plus rooms and food), and then head out to Thunderbird Beach. They're due to play at 7pm, but John Lee Hooker is on before them and that's a must.

Along the road to Thunderbird Beach, they are surprised by the large numbers of cops, even more than when they played at Lubbock. Even stranger, all the houses have these barricades across their driveways and the men-of-the-house are standing over them with clubs and rifles, ready to protect their sacred private property or their women's honor or something against the invading barbarians. That gets a laugh from the group.

The festival site is a pleasant surprise: lots of trees and a swimming area and a nice big stage. Bloodrock gets backstage and starts assembling the equipment and learns that John Lee Hooker has been delayed, so they will go on before him. It will still be later than 7pm because of various delays. Backstage, the sound coming from out front is distorted and no one really knows who is on. Bloodrock retires to a warm-up area made of playwood [sic] and polyethylene sheets to plan the set.

A stage-type comes up to Rutledge and says, 'You've got to play for one hour.' A couple of guys come around asking for autographs for 'a chick named Robbie who loves Bloodrock.' A girl named Susie comes to hug Pickens and to say, 'Man, it's good to see you.'

Says Steve Hill, 'I still feel funny signing autographs. It's funny seeing how people approach us now, treating us like celebrities. They don't realize that we're just the same as before. After a while, the thrill of being watched is over. It's hilarious; like we know what we are, but others don't. Of course, the chicks don't crawl all over us yet.'

Three-fifths of the MC5 stroll by, each with a pint of whiskey, and Rick Cobb says, 'Man, that's a weird group. They're all drunk and they go around pinching girls on the ass and tits. I guess they've got that reputation to live up to.'

There is further delay over a hassle about organs, so Hickey goes off to straighten it out, and a local chick leads everyone (except Lee Pickens, who prefers juice and has been on rum-and-coke all day) into this big trailer truck which is used as a dressing room and suchlike. Inside, she has this big, two-hose waterpipe (filled with wine) going with some strong dope.

Someone knocks on the door and everyone staggers out in a cloud of smoke and euphoria. Instruments are unsteadily picked up.

'Man, man!' says Grundy, 'I've got to get up there on stage. I'm about to explode!' The others (except Pickens, who has reached a mellow high) are similarly pacing now with pent-up energy. They project an infectious feeling of caged energy and no one is saying much.

Finally, the announcer calls on Bloodrock, and they tear up the ramp, 5/6 stoned and 1/6 drunk.

They hit the first note of 'Castles of Thought' [sic] with a tremendous flash and the stage starts shaking. Two more numbers and they're all drenched in sweat and start tearing their shirts off and the crowd is standing and digging it.

In all the apeshit tumult, Pickens stands smiling secretly, impassive and quiet, tapping his new red patent leather shoes with the gold toes, nodding his head while ripping off his intense, flashing riffs.

Rutledge starts his conducting bit in the instrumental sections, tearing around the stage, urging his boys to get it on!, standing behind Taylor and gently humping him during his licks, leaping on top of Hill's organ to lean down over him and through clenched teeth exhort him to come on!, grabbing a stick to beat the drums along with Cobb, weaving a circle between Grundy and Pickens, picking up a cowbell and beating the shit out of it, waving his arms and screaming, stoned; brains are being knocked out and strewn all over Thunderbird Beach.

Finally, they do the song everyone has been asking for, 'Find A Way' [sic], and, amazingly, at least half the audience is singing along. Rutledge leans out over the crowd, holding the mike out over them. They finally start off stage after 20 minutes of 'Find A Way' [sic], but are brought back for an encore, which turns out to be 'DOA,' a Louisiana favorite from the Warehouse gig.

Ed Grundy (with Bloodrock)
at the Man & Earth Festival.

After just over an hour on stage, they stagger down the ramp and collapse, exhausted. There is the usual crowd of freaks coming up to shake hands and say, 'Man, that was just too fucking much. You blew my fucking brains out!'

No one in the group says much and they finally drift out front of the stage to catch John Lee Hooker's set, then headed back to the motel, along with three groupies.

The next morning, Sunday morning, everyone is sleeping late when Rutledge comes around checking on everyone and says, 'This is gonna be one hell of a day. I just hope we can get all our shit on the plane.'

It seems that they are due on today at 2pm. Then they must board a chartered plane by 4pm to be in San Antonio by 6:30 for a gig with Lee Michaels and Grand Funk.

'I hate to be so rushed,' says Rick Cobb backstage. Bloodrock finally gets on stage at about 3 and plays for 30 minutes, a good, tight set, although lacking the ...fire of the previous evening. After their set, begging off an encore, they rush off stage to start packing everything up for the airport.

Someone comes up and presents Jim Rutledge with the Alvin Lee Memorial Watermelon for Meritorious Service to the South. He stands holding it until Pat Owens from Truth comes over to show him how Chicago boys open watermelons. But Pat was a little spaced out, so his method turned out to be dropping the thing on the ground. It was still good and pieces were passed around. Then, abruptly, Bloodrock were off in a flurry of handshakes for the night's gig in San Antonio...

As Rolling Stone testified, Bloodrock was ripping up stages and pleasing the hell out of audiences before 'DOA' was even on the radio. According to a Capitol ad placed in Billboard, the debut LP sold an impressive 60,000 copies in its first six months.

Today, the usual classic rock culture Stalinists (Rolling Stone, Spin, Mojo, etc.) withhold even a single mention of Bloodrock. Guitar World's (March 2004) '100 greatest heavy metal guitarists list' includes Robert Fripp - but not Lee Pickens. That's bad enough - but when the index of a promising title such as the Unknown Legends of Rock n' Roll (Unterberger, 1998) pulls up Blood Sweat & Tears where Bloodrock should be, then it becomes obvious that God has personally supervised the erasure of Bloodrock's name from the annals of rock history.

Why? Let us move on to the second album - and their monster hit - to delve deeper into the truth - and the mystery...

Click here for part 5

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