Phog Most of the time, people misunderstand us.  Rock and roll musicians and songwriters are gentle, sensitive and loving souls who just want to "rock the world" and change things for the better... Rick Davis (known later as Eric Braunn of The Iron Butterfly), drummer Gary Toft and I formed The Phog, I think, in the spring of 1963 or so.  If you look on the Internet under Eric Braunn there are a lot of mentions of us in the early days.   We started as most of us did in Rick’s, Gary's or mostly my garage learning how to play The Beatles, the new brash group The Rolling Stones and many of the British Invasion’s other groups’ songs.   Russ Deck Recalls The Phog We began by playing the junior high Friday night dances at school.  We went on to other school programs, even school lunches.  I so clearly remember we had to have a letter from our manager (a music shop owner at the time) to have our hair over our ears or over our collars.  The most quintessential boys VP, crew cut and all, would prowl the halls of school looking for any kind of violation.  Anyway…we progressed to San Fernando Valley battle of the bands-type shows, and won many of them.  But by that time Hollywood was becoming very important to us and finally we opened our first show at Pandora’s Box on Hollywood Blvd.  It was standing room only. We were a hit!  We felt we were on our way. Delta Ta Delta at UCLA hired us and—I laugh—I think that's where I really discovered sex and the fun of the wild life; it made Animal House look tame.   We were noticed by Lenny Waronker of Warner Brothers (who went on to be the president of Reprise Records and Warner Brothers Records who later had The Doobie Brothers, Curtis Mayfield, Rod Stewart, and Neil Young) who took us into the studio and recorded three songs…one of which, ‘Six O'Clock’, he thought was a smash hit (although it never came out). Now of course we, feeling our oats and being this hot new upcoming group, had our own ideas of how things should work.   Lenny, after thinking for a few days, called us into his offices to offer us a contract and (decided he) wanted to rename the group.  I will never forget the excitement on his face as he said, "The Boys."  We all thought he was crazy.  Of course now in retrospect, you know what...the man was on to something with it.  I wish we had listened to him.   Well one thing led to another and I think at the time we were looking for competitive offers from different companies and at that time Vox, Gretch, Gibson, and Rickenbacker were offering to supply upcoming hit groups with all the equipment they could use and we felt we were on the brink.  Here we were young boys—15 and 16 years old—thinking we were the next Beatles.  Rick was the cutest of the group; oh my God the girls loved him…and I wasn't too bad either.  We definitely had a John and Paul thing going on.  While Rick was the most accomplished musician of the group at that time, I was the main songwriter. Rick and I did collaborate on many songs but it seems usually it was my songs that got the most attention from the group.  I do remember Rick was on me all the time to work on my guitar playing more and I was on him to write more commercial songs.   I think in my whole life I never competed with, nor more admired, a man that I personally had dealings with on a day-to-day basis.  Rick and I not only competed in music, but also for the girls; in Drama (class) Rick and I both won two southern California festivals for acting—one together and one separately.  I think it was about this time, after getting my first car (a ‘57 Rambler…and Steve had a old beat up station wagon), that we had the yearning to earn more money playing jobs.  Someone got us a job playing a Pierce College frat party.   I have to say it was the wildest party I had ever been to. The dance floor was packed, people were yelling and everyone was hitting the huge bucket of  “punch" in the main room.  We did, too, as I recall (or should I say what I recall of it?).  All I remember is being driven home after being picked up off the front yard. That incredible show (and magical music) and not feeling too well the next morning—the memories…ah, the wonderful memories.   Usually after these all night frat parties and the very next practice, Gary was always the one that brought us up-to-date on the previous engagement.  Rick always denied everything.  Russ would say, "What"?  I did what?" and inevitably Steve would fill us all in on the things we did and said.  Steve was usually right.  Here we were…a young rock band with dreams that could leap over the moon, and each member with enormous talent; it was just a matter of putting it all together so the rest of the world would understand.  We were not just the guys from junior high and high school that played in their cute little band.  No!  We were stars who had huge dreams to concur the world with our music and talent and we were definitely not like the rest.  We were unique.  It was all a matter of finding the right songs, the right agent, the right venues, the right crowds; basically we knew, at the bottom of our hearts, we loved to play music, we loved what we were doing and we knew where we were headed.  Rick was the overly talented cute one the girls loved; I was a songwriter and the girls loved me too.  Gary had that Ringo quick wit and occasional sarcasm that the group needed to stay on track and Steve had the wisdom and basic common knowledge.  Even while older than the rest of us, had a internal read on all of us knowing what to say, and when to say it— despite the fact we picked on him unmercifully. Usually his glasses slipped off his nose while playing his bass. (Jim McGuinn of The Byrds did a great Steve Newman interpretation, especially while performing ‘Turn Turn Turn.’ Usually, after one of our big weekends, we all seemed to come back to practice in the afternoons with a new record by someone. "Did you hear this?"…"Oh man, listen to these guys!”…”Listen to the one on his guitar."…"Oh man, what kind of harmony is that?"  We were up on every new song, every new artist, and every new trick in the book.  AM radio only allowed us a compressed tonality of how they got that tone, or how they did that, and at that time most of the recording artists were recording on 8-track studios, so it was a matter of how did they get that much sound on so few tracks.  At that time, the beat was important, the hook was important, and the look was very important.  We definitely had the look and the beat but it was still was a matter of the writing of songs, of finding our real selves as a group and getting the songs recorded, and of (finding) someone who really believed in us.  Other garage bands were all around us, and it seems in the ‘60s there was a band on every block rehearsing after school.  In a matter of a year or two bands were popping up everywhere: Some good, some not so good, some cover bands learning the hits; some but a few were playing originals, which took a lot of time.  Back then it wasn't so much “we need to make money to pay the bills” kind of thing but more an explosion of creativity and a desire to reach out to the world and express ourselves with no reservations.  “Let’s do it guys”…and we would all yell, “yeah!”   As John Lennon once said in a down time, "To the top boys. Where are we going lads?  To the top."  “Yeah!” we all yelled. And we smiled.  We were ready to take on the world and make it to the top.  Yeah!  Most of our practices took place in my garage.   God bless Mom, for putting up with all that noise.  The police would stop by on a regular basis to tell us to turn the music down, in large part because on warm days we'd leave the garage door open which meant the music could be heard for about a 1/2 mile radius.  But I must say in those days the police were very friendly and loved what we were doing and sometimes would stand at the end of the driveway listening until we finished our song.   They’d then politely walk up and say  (usually with a smile), "Boys. You've got to turn it down.  The neighbors are complaining."  I remember very clearly one officer saying, as he turned towards his squad car, "That was really good."  One day, in one of my more thoughtful moods, I said, "Hey Mom, thanks for putting up with us".  And she said, "'Well I'd rather have you here than out running the streets.  At least I know where you are."      I will always remember Rick walking into practice and looking at me.  He’s ask, "Did you practice your guitar?”  I usually would say, “Yeah, and I wrote two new songs.” He was always on me to get better.  I remember bringing a new song into practice called ‘I Think I’m Going Out Of My Mind’ and after running through it a few times and really getting the beat and the harmonies going Gary slammed down his drumsticks after the end and said, "Yeah!  Now that's more like it".  Gary always had a way of making everyone feel better when he was happy.   Gary always had a power over the rest of us that I don't think even he understood.   Here I was focusing on writing songs, harmonies and how to put it all together; Rick was always (focused) on the perfection of the instrumentation and Steve (in trying to make) logical sense of it all.  It was like all the powers at times were moving in the same direction, and sometimes…in those magical moments…it all worked, and the feeling we all felt at the end of song has lasted to this day. Magic creates memories, not only of what was, but what is and what can be.   And, at that time, all we dreamed of was...and of what could be.        We had been playing numerous battle of the bands shows—in gymnasiums, parking lots, on the back of flat bed trucks at rodeos and car races—and, while we liked playing, there was becoming an uneasiness about…what are we doing, why aren't we getting anywhere?   The fun of playing crazy frat houses was interesting but even with the draw of parties, girls and all the fun we had that was not really our mission.  Yes, we liked being popular, but there was much more at stake here.  We knew all the bands that had made it before us had to “pay their dues,” but we wanted to record.  We wanted to find our identity.  We wanted our songs on the radio.    Steve had snuck us into his studio at his college, which we definitely took advantage of.  We began to bring our reel-to-reel tape recorders to our practices to listen to our originals played back so we could begin to build on what we were doing.  Actually, listening back to what we thought was really good, was (actually) a bit of a let down:  “Rick, your harmony is off.” “Gary, stop dragging the beat!”  “I definitely thought my guitar part sounded better than that and, damn, my vocal was off key.”  Oh, Steve, clean up your bass ok?”  All those things that go on between band members, with tempers flaring at times, were a large part of our practices.   Then someone would always say something that cracked us all up. Gary did a great impression of a large frog.  I don't know what it was but he would look at me in the heat of the moment...and go into his frog routine...and Rick and I would fall to the floor in laughter, while Steve giggled pushing up his glasses off his nose.  Looking back, those were great times.  Like so many have said...it's the journey that makes the destination worthwhile. The pressure was tremendous even as a young band player because we all knew how important what we were doing was.  But the potential rewards way outweighed the difficulties.  And that was what we were after: The golden ring. Or should I say...the gold record?  Finally, the day came after playing countless battle of the bands, frat parties and school dances.  We had a shot at playing at Pandoras Box in Hollywood.  We were booked!   We had driven past the billboards, we had even hitch hiked into Hollywood as a lark, and stuck our head in some of the clubs--The  Whisky, Ciro's and some of the other places all of the hit groups had played. This was our chance.  This was our door to the big world, this was our door to record contracts, and our chance to make something of our selves.   We knew we would be hits.  We knew we were on our way. Our first Hollywood job:  We showed up in Steve's old beat up station wagon probably about two hours early and parked in the back parking lot, ready to go.  The last band was still playing, so we waited in the parking lot for what seemed to be hours.  We were unusually quiet while we waited.   I know in my own mind I was trying desperately to remember all the parts that I knew by heart; every lyric to every song seemed to leave my head.  The sound from inside the club was loud, and the applause intimidating, which only made us feel more frightened.  What if they didn't like us?  What if they laughed at us?  What if we were just kidding ourselves thinking we can play music? None of us would look directly at each other in the eye.  We all seemed to be looking at our feet. Then a large guy with frizzy hair stepped out back and said, P - Hogs...you're up!"  Fortunately all the guys and all the girls that were with us started unloading the stationwagon to get all our stuff inside.  It was crowded so it wasn't easy getting all of our equipment inside, but in a way I kind of appreciated all the activity because it took our minds off of what was coming.  Eventually the other band had removed their equipment and we had placed our amps in place on the rather small stage.  The drums were set up and of course Gary tested each tom tom, cymbal and snare for sound while we set up. Rick, Steve and I checked our tuning with eachother.   Then...that fateful moment.  Rick was on my left. Steve looked up over his glasses expectantly while Gary (sat) on his stool behind his drums that proudly said on the skinhead, "The Phog," and looked at me with fear in his eyes but with a distant but yet somehow satisfying sense of a "we're here now let's do it" look. Everyone seemed to be waiting for a sign; I remember that one breath that seemed to last forever.  We looked out at a crowd that was wall to wall people, standing room only.   I looked back at the guys.  I said, "I Think I'm Going Out Of My Mind. One. Two. Three.  Four." All of a sudden, I could feel the beat kick in.  In a rush the chords began to come back to me.  I thought, "come on Russ...you wrote this song.  Damn...I hit a sloppy F#; come on concentrate!"   I look back now thinking why was I so nervous?  But at the time I was thinking, "look out at the audience, look cool, look like I know what the hell I'm doing"...even though my hands were shaking at the time.   The chorus hit and I couldn't believe it.  We all nailed it--all of us in tune.  I could feel the bass line giving us the bottom end, Gary's drum beat pushing us and, as we approached the mike, I looked over at Rick and we began singing in unison (damn just like The Beatles on Ed Sullivan).  Looking out at the crowd they were all looking back at us wondering if they liked us or not.  Then the chorus hit, and I could see out of the corner of my eye a group of girls stand up in the back row, and began moving their bodies with the beat of the music.  I looked at one of the girls in the eye as I sang and she smiled.  What a feeling.  Right then and right there I knew we connected.  From that point on the song took on a whole new meaning--not like it sounded in the garage, or at Rick's rec room, or my living room at home on a Saturday morning--but with a sound, even though it was the same song we had rehearsed over and over, that was now new, fresh and alive, and we were breathing life into it. Together...all for one and one for all.   The last progression of the song came to a resounding climax.  "Wham" went Gary's drum beat, crashing down on the last note of the song.  Then...a moment of total silence (a silence that could live through out eternity)...and the crowd erupted in applause.  People were standing; girls...mind you.  Really good looking girls with crop tops on and with their hands over their heads yelling.  All it took was one look at Rick and we felt the magic, a magic that transcends the rational and a magic that leaps logic. We smiled that heart smile you only feel ever so often, maybe only a few times in your life.   Isn't it interesting that even looking back after all these years I can still feel that moment, I can still feel the magic, I can still feel the unity between all of us?  We were giving it all we had, giving it all our efforts, giving this thing called "our music" all our hearts and souls, and to look out at the crowd reacting to us was one of the most memorable moments of our lives.  Sometimes, those achievements that took so much effort all come together in one brief whisper of a breath and mean so much.  So much that you never forget them, so much that they reverberate throughout your life.  If my eyes were a camera, and if my heart was a video player, this was one of the memories that I will always keep and cherish.  I guess in some ways, my heart, my eyes, my ears, and my memories are a camera of sorts (taking a deep breath remembering).   Then as the roar of the crowd filled our ears we began the next song.  I nodded to Rick and Gary and Steve as I tapped my foot knowing in my head what song was coming up next.  "Okay boys.  Let's do it.  One, Two, Three, Four..." and Gary's drum stick hit his snare... Recordings ‘Bookshelf’, ‘Closing Door’, ‘Rainbow’ and ‘Can You Get Along Without It’ were recorded at San Fernando Valley State College (now Cal State Northridge). I'd guess we did them around 1966.  I was the recording engineer as well as bass player on those sessions. At the time I was attending the Radio/TV Department and I snuck the group into one of their studios where we recorded in wonderful monophonic sound. Playing and recording didn't help get a good mix, but we got them on tape. ‘Six O'Clock’ was a professional demo done for Lenny Waronker. Tom Miller, a friend of the group’s, played the little organ riffs and famous rocker Freddie Cannon played tambourine for us. This was maybe done in early 1967… ‘I Hope You'll Go’, ‘I'm Wonderin' Why’, ‘I Think I'm Going Out Of My Mind’ and ‘The Time's Arrived’ are the earliest songs, I think. The recordings were done at someone's house with a home reel-to-reel. We probably did them in 1965 sometime, shortly after I met Rick, Russ and Gary. At one time I think we did a professional studio tape of some of these songs, our first demo, but those are probably lost. The unknown Erik song I know nothing about. The Kinks tune was one that we'd play for our frat gigs. We always had trouble keeping the tempo up on that song. Things I remember about our gigs:  We played at The Encino Community Center a lot. It is still there on Balboa Blvd.  We were regulars at Delta Tau Delta fraternity at UCLA. Those gigs were pretty raunchy.  There was lots of booze and sometimes they'd put obscene drawings on the walls. As the old man of the group, I'd try to ride herd on the other three but not always successfully.  We played several dances and battles of the bands at Chatsworth High School.  There were other fraternities and sororities which we did single gigs for.  - Steve Newman   April 2008 Note: The quality of the sound recordings is unfortunately not up to professional standards, but the songs and performances are definitely of a high quality and offer a fascinating glimpse of a band that could have made an impact if things had transpired differently. 'Sic O'Clock' 'Bookshelf' 'Can You Get Along Without It' 'Closing Door' 'I Hope You'll Go' 'Everybody's Gonna Be Happy' (Kinks Song) 'I Think I'm Going Out Of My Mind' 'I'm Wonderin' Why' 'Rainbow' 'The Time's Arrived' Unknown Eric Braunn Song Long time Phog fan and fan club president Katherine Luedtke is currently writing a screenplay on the career of The Phog.  Her recollections of the individual band members are as follows: Rick Davis was pure passion…for his music and no one was going to stop him.  Rick was the master musician at 16. Russ Deck was the emotional one and always in competition with Rick.  He wrote most of the band's songs and lyrics. Gary Toft was fun loving and contemplative with a quick wit and a sarcastic sense of humor.  Steve Newman was older than the other boys.  He kept things together and played the peace maker when Rick and Russ disagreed.