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| Angus, Malcolm, and George |
Why the Easybeats Were No Flash in the Pan, and How AC/DC Sprung Up from Grapefruit Seeds
Pretty much everyone who knows anything about popular music
knows that the Young brothers knew how to make potent, visceral, ballsy rock n’
roll. For decades Malcolm and Angus Young made feet stomp and eardrums bleed as
the guiding forces of AC/DC. What fewer people know, particularly those outside
of their home country of Australia, is that the band might not have existed if
it were not for the influence and guidance of their older brothers George and…
George.
You read that right. George and George.
George Young was a little bit more than six years older than
Malcolm, and was a teenager when the Young clan emigrated from Scotland to Australia
in 1963, just one of many families seeking a fresh start and warmer climate in
Australia. Adjusting to life in a new country, in which new immigrants usually
lived in spartan “migrant hostels” consisting of barracks made of corrugated
iron (it’s interesting to note that the Villawood Migrant Hostel in which the
Youngs first stayed now functions as the Villawood Immigration Detention Centre),
his social life was mostly based on connecting musically with other new
arrivals, mostly kids from Great Britain and the Netherlands.
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| The Easybeats. George Young at right. |
Thus The Easybeats were born.
To most Americans, The Easybeats may be a one hit wonder,
but even so, what a hit it was. “Friday On My Mind,” is indisputably one of the
great pop-rock songs of mid-sixties beat music. In their home country, though, they
were beyond a sensation. They ruled the charts and ignited such a frenzy among the
youth down under that “Easy Fever” became the Australian counterpart of
“Beatlemania.” The band also experienced significant success in England and
Europe after the band relocated to London in 1966.
It was there that George Young reconnected with his brother
George.
George Alexander was born Alexander Young in 1939 and was already
a working musician, playing sax with a band called the Bobby Patrick Big Six,
when the rest of his family emigrated. In 1962, like several other British
bands at that time, they traveled to Hamburg to do a residency at the Star
Club. It was around that time that they played gigs backing English singer Tony
Sheridan. Now does this career trajectory sound familiar? Then it should come
as no surprise that the Bobby Patrick Big Six would cross paths with another
band that was doing the exact same thing (I’m talking about The Beatles, just
in case you hadn’t figured that out).
So at some point during this time, Alexander Young took on
the stage name of George Alexander. Since both Georges have since passed on, one
can only speculate as to why. It’s not like his name was some of kind of tongue
twister or was (gasp!) too ethnic. What
is known is that is when the Young family emigrated and Alex stayed behind to
pursue his musical career, it didn’t sit well with the rest of the clan. Whether
it was out of insolence or hurt feelings, supposedly Alex told his family that
they were a “bunch of mugs” for leaving. Apparently, that’s a serious insult to
Scottish people. In any event, Alex would have no communication with his family
for several years.
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| Alexander Young (bottom left), with his band, Grapefruit, as rock royalty hovers over |
Did he ditch his last name in response to that breach? It’s
a thought but, again, mere speculation. It is interesting that he would take as
his new first name that of his younger brother with whom he clearly had a
musical affinity. Whatever the reasons, voila, presto, there you have it: The
two Georges.
And when the Beatles launched Apple Publishing in 1967, one
of the first outside artists signed was George Alexander. Lennon and McCartney
were so taken with Alex’s songwriting that Apple basically assembled a band
around Alex to showcase him. John Lennon
suggested a name for this new combo, borrowing the title of a conceptual art
book of Yoko Ono’s entitled Grapefruit.
Miles and years away from the clubs in Hamburg, the Beatles connection was
bearing fruit. (Get it? Apples? Grapefruits? Sorry.)
So George and Alex were both riding high in swinging London
when they reconnected in 1968. George Young recounted at the time: “Mum used to
tell me he was a stubborn sort of fellow and we just didn’t communicate with
him… [He] reluctantly agreed to meet me last week and we had a good old
booze-up. He’s not such a stubborn bloke after all – although when Mum reads
this, she’ll probably go mad at me, too!”
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| Evidently, Deep Water sank |
As it turned out, even though the brothers had no idea at
the time, both of their bands had essentially peaked by the time they reunited.
Grapefruit’s newly released debut album, Around
Grapefruit, was a fine record of sparkling, Technicolor, melodic pop, but it
didn’t have quite the success it may have deserved. Their follow-up, 1969’s Deep Water, tried to break free of the
Beatles-esque sound of their debut and leaned towards the heavier, bluesier,
sound that was becoming popular, but sadly it fared even worse. Evidently the
Beatles’ endorsement was both a blessing and a curse.
Meanwhile, George, along with his writing partner, Easybeats’
lead guitarist Harry Vanda, were writing songs for their band that were more
and more melodic, thoughtful, and innovative, but they never recaptured the
success of “Friday on My Mind.” As their band gradually disintegrated, for all
too common reasons (increasing drug use, mental health issues, you name it),
Vanda and Young seemingly became too ensconced in writing songs and recording
demos to even notice.
By 1970, both brothers were bandless and exiled in London, and
found themselves frequently working together. George and Harry Vanda would
write songs, Alex would write songs, and they would all record them with a
group of musician friends collectively referred to as “The Glasgow Mafia.”
These tracks would be released under a variety of different names such as
Tramp, Paintbox, and Haffy’s Whiskey Sour. They even put out one last single
under the Grapefruit moniker, “Sha-Sha” b/w “Universal Party,” written and sung
by Alex and featuring George and Harry Vanda playing just about everything
else. Ultimately, though, the working relationship between the brothers would
largely end when Harry Vanda and George Young returned to Australia in 1973 to
embark on fruitful careers as songwriters and producers, become the most
prolific and successful team in Aussie pop. Alex eventually would relocate to
Germany and continue writing for other artists.
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| George Young and Harry Vanda |
Though he does not have the same stature in America as in his
adoptive home country of Australia, George Young is pretty well known to AC/DC
fans and anybody who ever binge-watched a VH1 Behind the Music marathon (way back
when they used to do that) for guiding the careers of his kid brothers Malcolm
and Angus. Not only would he produce all their early albums (along with Vanda),
but also help them hone their sound, all the while helping them steer clear of
the more nefarious sides of the music business that George himself had fallen
victim to.
Alexander Young, on the other hand, is today a largely
unknown figure. Still, he was the first of the family to throw caution to the
wind and pursue a career in music, and he was respected and admired by his
younger brothers who would later go the same route. With all of this, I don’t
think that it’s hyperbolic to say that AC/DC would not have happened without
the influence of the elder Youngs. Drummer John
Proud, who worked with both George and Malcolm on numerous projects, put
it quite succinctly: “I think Malcolm and Angus were lucky to have brothers
like George and Alex.”
Exploring the Georges: Required Listening
The Easybeats
I have to assume that everyone reading this knows the
glistening pop-rock glory that is “Friday on My Mind.” Some may even know “Good
Times, though mainly from the cover by INXS and Jimmy Barnes that graces the
Lost Boys soundtrack. However, for many, it usually stops there, and this is
unfortunate as a deeper dive into their catalog will prove to be deeply rewarding.
Though they were definitely more of singles band than an album oriented unit,
Harry Vanda and George Young wrote ever increasingly sophisticated pop songs
after they had hit their commercial peak with “Friday on My Mind.” Singles like
the quirky “The Music Goes ‘Round My Head,” the gorgeously melancholic “Land of
Make Believe” and lush despair of “Falling Off the Edge of the World” (a song
which Lou Reed proclaimed to be “one of the most beautiful records ever made”) show
how far they came from their early R&B influenced beat music, and are certainly
worth checking out.
Grapefruit
The band’s 1968 debut album Around Grapefruit, is jam packed with sparking, paisley pop gems
penned by Alexander Young. A personal favorite of mine is “Ain’t It Good,” also
released as the B-side of their third single. The album also features a song
called “Lullaby.” Intended as a single, the band had recorded another version prior
to the album sessions with John Lennon and Paul McCartney producing. However, that
original version of the song was never officially released until the 2016
compilation Yesterday’s Sunshine.
Evidently a favorite of Lennon’s, a tape of the song was found among his possessions
after his death, and for a time was assumed to be a lost Beatles track.
Marcus Hook Roll Band
Marking a unique moment in the story of the Young clan, The
Marcus Hook Roll Band was the only project in which Alex, George, Malcolm, and
Angus all participated in the studio. Mind you, this is not as profound as it
sounds. The so-called band originally was really just members of the “Glasgow
Mafia” getting together to record a couple of singles penned by Vanda and
Young. The name of the “band” was simply an afterthought suggested by producer
Wally Waller (formally of the seminal English psychedelic garage rock outfit,
The Pretty Things) . Alex had played sax on one of these initial singles,
“Louisiana Lady,” recorded in London in 1972 during Vanda and Young’s post
Easybeats exile. Quickly forgotten by the public and band alike, Over a year
later, Waller was approached by Capital Records asking that the “band” record
an entire LP. Vanda and Young, by now back in Australia, and damned if they’d
return to England, put together an entirely new band including George’s younger
brother Malcolm, and also asked Angus to tag along, intending to give his kid
brothers an idea of what working in the studio was all about. While Angus observed
the sessions, and participated in some in-studio jams, it is unlikely that he
featured on any finished tracks. So the claim that the Marcus Hook Roll Band
featured all four brothers is a bit dubious and misleading. Still, the album
and the previous singles are killer, bluesy, swaggering rock n’ roll, and
should be listened to on their own merit.I’m a Rebel
A coveted rarity to AC/DC fans, that band were coaxed into
the studio to record brother Alex’s song after a gig in Germany in September of
1976. Supposedly, Alex himself handled the lead vocals, with a drunken Bon
Scott backing him up. I say supposedly, because the recording was never released
and memories of the recording are hazy. Members of the German heavy metal band,
Accept, who recorded the song for their second album, had heard the AC/DC demo,
and guitarist Wolf Hoffmann stated that he preferred that demo to his own
band’s final version. In spite of the fact that it was never released, some
claim to have heard it and if you go to YouTube you can find a recording that
purports to the be the one made that night. However, the authenticity is
unconfirmed. Jesse Fink, who wrote the book
The Youngs: The Brothers Who Built
AC/DC, believes that recording to be authentic, and states that Bon Scott
can definitely be heard providing backing vocals to Alex’s lead. I wasn’t so
sure, and I actually reached out to John Tait, author of Vanda and Young: Inside Australia’s Hit Factory, the definitive
book on the duo, to ask him what he thought, and he stated he had no real
reason to doubt it, but I still got the sense that he was somewhat dubious.
Take a listen and judge for yourself.
Flash and the Pan
In spite of the duo’s utter disdain for touring and
promotion, Harry Vanda and George Young’s new-wave studio project had
significant success in Australia, was huge in Europe and, according to a friend
of mine, had an inexplicable following in rural Pennsylvania. Flash and the Pan
released their first album in 1978. Up to this time, Vanda and Young had spent
most of the decade behind the scenes, writing and producing hits for other
artists (it was around this time that Vanda and Young would let go of the
production reins for AC/DC). Even if they initially tried to preserve their
anonymity, recording under a cryptic but self-consciously punny moniker, it was
still the first time in a dog’s age that the duo went into the studio to record
their own material. A far cry from the earnest, rich, and tuneful songs of
latter day Easybeats, Flash and The Pan’s debut album was robotic and cold, yet
atmospheric, and eminently danceable. They seemed to eschew melody whenever
possible, with the verses to the songs largely being spoken rather than sung,
but still the record is packed with deep grooves and killer hooks, with lyrics that
were sneering, snarky, and darkly satirical.
Their first album is fucking brilliant and the obvious place
to start with this project. It contains their first single “Hey, St. Peter,” a enigmatic
ode/condemnation of New York City which was released two years earlier. Could
the song’s lyrics be interpreted as a psychic reading of the monumental changes
then going on in the New York music scene coming from a couple of dudes on the
other side of the planet? Doubtful, but it’s still a good song. “Walking in the
Rain” is another highlight, though a cover by the exotic, androgynous pop diva
Grace Jones would give the song greater visibility. “California,” the only song
on the album not written by Harry and George, postulates the accidental nuking
of the American west coast. Brooding, angrily hip, apocalyptic, the whole song
is a dark cloud with a Cheshire cat smile. The writing credit went to an “M.
James,” but it was just another pseudonym that older brother Alex published
songs under (evidently the name of his wife). “I thought that song would be
perfect for Flash and the Pan,” mused Harry Vanda, “I really liked Alex. He was
very much his own man.”
