Sunken Treasure, Vol. 1: The Turtles Present The Battle of the Bands

by paul r jaissle

This is the first in an on-going series of articles dedicated to that most salient of independent record store features: the used bin. Whether an obscure gem sought after for years or a personal discovery bought on a whim, this is an ode to the many treasures that make the seemingly endless hours of trolling through bin after bin dusty records and discarded discs worthwhile.

Along with anti-war protests and free love, one of the more self-indulgent fads of the swinging Sixties was the concept album. Bands everywhere suddenly saw themselves as serious artists with grand statements to be made in the grooves of rock records. The problem with this, of course, is that the music industry was still driven by singles at that time as well as the need for bands to have strong, identifiable images. Not only that, but the artistic delusions of grandeur afforded by recreational drug use were often accompanied by clouded judgments and impaired common sense. Try as they might to create a total work of art, most bands obviously lacked the ability to fill a whole LP with songs that presented a whole unified theme. Even the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, which kicked off this trend, lacked any sort of cohesive concept other than the band dressing up in funny clothes.

The Turtles are probably the least likely band to try their hand at a concept album; they were a group best known for bubblegum singles like their gloriously catchy ‘Happy Together.’ However, tired of being regarded as a mere pop band and wanting to break free from their image as a bubblegum act, the Turtles devised a concept that allowed them to portray a number of different bands playing in a variety of genres. The resulting album, released in 1968, is a surprisingly fun and playful romp through the fields of popular American song. It also represents a rare example of a concept album that actually works: a novel, identifiable concept that the band sticks to and doesn’t take all too seriously. Of course, the concept also afforded the Turtles the opportunity to dress up in funny clothes as well.

The most surprising element of the Battle of the Bands is how spot-on the parodies (if you could call them that) of other genres are. The Turtles certainly had a great ear for pop music but were also able to turn out the impressive lite-psychedelic number ‘The Last Thing I Remember’ as The Atomic Enchilada and borrow quite heavily from Booker T and the MG’s classic organ workout ‘Green Onions’ for The Fabulous Dawgs’ fuzzy ‘Buzzsaw’. On ‘Surfer Dan,’ the band even makes fun of their pre-Turtles career as surf outfit The Cross Fires. The Turtles even portray themselves as a vapid, light-hearted pop band on the absolutely wonderful classic ‘Elenore’ which became a big hit despite its intentionally banal sentiments of “you’re my pride and joy, et cetera.” That song, along with the Byrds-written soaring, heart-achingly beautiful ‘You Showed Me’ are reason enough to pick this album up (or at least to buy a greatest hits package).

Of course, the album doesn’t always work and is a little too playful at points. ‘Food,’ by The Bigg Brothers is a lame attempt at a pot joke: the song features, in the middle, the band reciting a recipe for brownies. Wonder what the secret ingredient could be? The title track, co-written by then Monkees songwriter Harry Nilsson, is fairly forgettable and the attempts at country are a little too tongue-in-cheek to warrant many repeated listens. That said, the unbelievably dumb sex joke/Hawaiian tribal drum number ‘I’m Chief Kammanawanalea’ always makes me laugh for some reason.

If you’re lucky enough to find this album used like I did, it’s worth checking out. It’s by no means a masterpiece, but it is a perfectly enjoyable offering from an oft neglected, but very smart, Sixties pop band and contains two bona fide classic pop songs that will have you swooning for sure.