By Thomas Conner
© Tulsa World

Contrary to popular opinion, I don't hate Hanson.

Sometimes I grow weary of dealing with the story — fielding
daily calls from an endless stream of pre-teen girls, foreign
journalists and creepy sycophants who think I have some inside
track on the personal habits, bodily markings and whereabouts of
the world's newest pop triumvirate. One guy even offered to snap
infra-red photos of the boys in their secret rehearsal spot. Yeesh.

Nobody really hates Hanson. Even the ghouls who create web pages
glamorizing fantasies about assaulting our cherubic idols don't
really hate them. Real hatred rarely inspires such tribute.

Cynics who naturally rail against anything that becomes hugely
popular can't hate them completely. The songs are too good, the
melodies are too sweet and Taylor has too much raw soul. I can't
tell you how many times such people — myself included — have
begun discussions of the pop trio by saying, “Well, I don't have
anything against their music, but ...''

But what? All other arguments are irrelevant. If you dislike a
group because of its look, you're shallow. If you dislike a group
simply because of its popularity, you have an inferiority complex
that should be dealt with. If you dislike a group because the
members' personalities chafe you, you're missing the point of pop
music.

As Diana Hanson, the Hanson mom, told me early this year, “All
that stuff about what it was like for them to play Legos together
is diversionary. The music is what matters, and that story is out
there.''

Hanson's “Middle of Nowhere'' album was a triumph for pop
music. The melodies are catchy — resistance is futile — and the
words frequently nonsensical. It's bright, cheerful and completely
disposable. “MMMBop'' sounds great every time you hear it, even
after a hundred listens, and it demands nothing intellectual of
you. That's pop. It could be gone tomorrow, but it will have served
its purpose well.

For those reasons, I love the guys. I'm a power pop fanatic, and
this music fits into my personal groove. In my reporting and
criticism, I attempt to craft a more personal tone than your basic
national media outlet. In so doing, I often end up sounding more
snide than is warranted.

The last thing I want to become is part of the Tulsa music
scene's problem. Tulsa's scene suffers mostly because area media --
and fans — consistently disrespect their own. I have infinite
respect for what these boys have achieved this year, and I hope
others join me, regardless of musical tastes, in puffing with just
a bit of pride in our hometown sons' accomplishments. Perhaps we
could do the same for numerous other impressive musicians in our
talent-packed local scene.

Of course, there's the rub: Hanson may have been born and
home-schooled within our city limits, but they are hardly a product
of the local music scene. The 300-plus local gigs Hanson publicists
love to tell you about likely were as much as 95 percent private
functions — not exactly dues-paying circumstances. They made
virtually no effort to test their mettle in the Tulsa marketplace,
where clubgoers choose to pay for the performance.

In the end, bypassing that probably helped Hanson succeed better
than anything. After all, Leon Russell — previously Tulsa's most
famous rock 'n' roll product — usually charges a greater fee when
he plays Tulsa. Why? Because the audiences here aren't as big, and
they don't respect him. Had Hanson suffered in the local concert
scene, Mercury Records might not have mustered the confidence to
support the boys as heartily as they did.

Therein lies my only valid gripe against the group: since the
album hit, Tulsans have not seen hide nor hair of the boys. They
have completely ignored their hometown fans. They even canceled
their scheduled appearance at Tulsa's centennial homecoming
celebration in September — a bad PR move that only made their
heads look larger from the perspective of us little people back
home in Green Country. Then again, maybe this is why Tulsa fans are
so punchy; if we do help someone reach stardom,
we'll probably never see them again.

It's something to think about the next time someone complains
about Tulsa's dearth of culture and fame. Suggest that next weekend
they blow their movie-rental bucks on a cheap cover charge at a
local club. Hear some music. Socialize instead of retreat. See what
happens.

And thank you for your support.

By Thomas Conner
© Tulsa World

In August, Hanson played, well, a record-breaking show in
Toronto, Canada. Trick is, they didn't set the record — their fans
did.

The mob — mostly ecstatic young girls, of course — screamed
their way into the Guinness Book of World Records. The sound meter
at the show registered the audience frenzy at 140 decibels. The
previous record is 126 decibels, set by fans of the Who nearly two
decades ago. (Parents, fill in your own “The Kids Are Alright''
joke here.)

That's just one way the Hanson brothers have made noise this
year.

When the calendar turned to '97, the Hanson boys couldn't get
arrested. They'd been on the local pep rally circuit and become
Mayfest staples, even had quietly released two indie albums, but
the Hanson moniker meant nothing to the masses.

This New Year's holiday, the Hanson family has a lot to toast.
The family's singing trio — Zac, Taylor and Isaac — has sold more
than 10 million albums and become the No. 1 pop group in nearly
every country on the planet.

Here's a look back at the past year of Hanson-mania — the
exposition and explosion:

Feb. 1 — A photograph appears in Billboard magazine with a
caption kicker that would prove all too prophetic: “Eat My Dust.''
The Hanson brothers are pictured with the Dust Brothers and two
Mercury Records execs. The caption simply mentioned that the boys
were finishing their album in a California studio.

Feb. 28 — The song “MMMBop'' is among 10 (including
Springsteen and Journey) rated by radio DJs in an issue of
Hitmakers magazine. The one-liners say, “What a great record,''
“This is great!'' and “I love this! A great record!''

March 24 — “MMMBop'' is released to radio and debuts at No. 43
on Billboard's chart of top airplay.

April 7 — A petition for majority rights is filed in the
District Court of Tulsa County in the name of Clarke Isaac Hanson,
Jordan Taylor Hanson and Zachary Walker Hanson. That means they
were asking the court to allow the boys to enter into contracts as
if they were adults (18 or older). Gotta get the legal ducks in a
row.

May 3 — “MMMBop,'' just released for sale, debuts at No. 16 on
the Billboard singles chart.

May 6 — The full album, “Middle of Nowhere'' on Mercury
Records, hits record shelves and debuts on the Billboard album
chart at No. 9. Nearly 75,000 copies are sold just this week.

May 7 — Hanson appears at the Paramus Park Mall in Paramus,
N.J. They have to be rushed off the stage because the place was
mobbed by a frenzied crowd topping 6,000 people. “More than
Christmas,'' Isaac marveled. Fans rip the laces from Taylor's shoes.

May 14 — “MMMBop'' hits No. 1 on the Billboard singles chart.

May 26 — Hanson appears on the “Live With Regis and Kathy
Lee'' morning show. Kathy Lee is visibly annoyed.

End of May — 30 web sites are devoted exclusively to Hanson.

Early June — Hanson appears on the KHTT, 106.9 FM, morning
show with Andy Barber and sings an a capella version of “MMMBop.''

June 11 — Already the legions of screaming girls are panicking
the publicists. An editor at Super Teen magazine relays, “Danny
Goldberg (president of Mercury Records) said he's trying to get the
label to focus marketing more on boys. They love the screaming
girls, but they're trying not to lose the boy market.''

June 12 — Hanson appear as presenters at the MTV Movie Awards.
They announce the award for Best Fight.

June 13 — Hanson stops at the Frontier City theme park in
Oklahoma City for a seven-song show. The tiny venue is crammed with
people, young and old. Tulsa's Mellowdramatic Wallflowers opened
the show, playing twice as long.

July 11 — The boys perform and are interviewed on “The Tonight
Show With Jay Leno.''

July 29 — “Where's the Love'' is released as the second single
from the major-label debut.

Sept. 1 — The first two unauthorized bios show up at
bookstores: “Hanson: An Unauthorized Biography'' and “Hanson:
MMMBop to the Top: An Unauthorized Biography'' by Jill Matthews.

Sept. 26 — Sandwiched between scintillating sitcoms like
“Sabrina the Teenage Witch'' and “You Wish,'' Hanson “host''
ABC's Friday night T.G.I.F. line-up. It wasn't much — a few cutesy
remarks, a peek at the newest video (“I Will Come to You'') and a
quick harmonizing of “Where's the Love.''

Oct. 3 — Hundreds of Tulsa teens show up at school in tears
because of widespread news that Zac had been killed in a road
accident in Europe. Just a sick rumor, fortunately.

Oct. 18 — Hanson sings the National Anthem to open the first
game of the World Series. A bald eagle flies down to the plate
afterward. Some losers actually booed them.

Late October — Fred Savage, former “Wonder Years'' star, shows
up on “MTV Live'' and declares “MMMBop'' as his favorite video.

Oct. 31 — MTV spends the day airing “the scariest videos of
all time,'' such as Ozzy Osbourne, Prodigy and Marylin Manson.
Hanson's “MMMBop'' is included, introduced as “definitely the
scariest video ever.''

Early November — 150,000 web sites are devoted exclusively to
Hanson.

Nov. 1 — “Hanson: The Official Book'' by Tulsa writer Jarrod
Gollihare arrives on bookshelves.

Nov. 6 — Hanson wins trophies for Best Song and Best
Breakthrough Act at the MTV Europe Music Awards.

Nov. 11 — Heard rumors that the Hansons are planning to move
from Tulsa? The boys appear on a live chat and simulcast on America
Online; when asked if they will be moving, they reply, “No, Tulsa
is home! :D'' Also, the album's third single, “I Will Come to
You,'' is released.

Nov. 18 — “Snowed In,'' the boys' Christmas album, is released
(debuting at No. 7 on Billboard's album chart) along with a video
documentary of the whirlwind year of touring, “Tulsa, Tokyo and
the Middle of Nowhere.''

Nov. 21 — They can still pack 'em in: nearly 30,000 people cram
into a shopping mall in Columbus, Ohio, for a free Hanson
performance.

Nov. 28 — ABC airs a prime-time special about Hanson, in which
Dick Clark interviews the boys as if they were on “American
Bandstand.''

Dec. 9 — Hanson is first on a bill including the Wallflowers
and — get this — Aerosmith at New York City's Madison Square
Garden.

Dec. 13 — The trio appears as the musical guest on NBC's
“Saturday Night Live.''

Dec. 18 — Hanson roars through “Run Run Rudolph'' for its
second appearance on “The Late Show With David Letterman.''


 

By Thomas Conner
© Tulsa World

The story, as his old compadre Chuck Blackwell tells it, goes
like this: Leon Russell and his close friend, Emily Smith, were
cruising Grand Lake one afternoon looking at various pieces of
property for sale. This was around 1972, and Leon's career was
rolling. He'd been around the world with the likes of Jerry Lee
Lewis and Joe Cocker, and his most recent solo album had just
landed the revealing single “Tight Rope'' at No. 11. He was
looking for someplace to settle for a while.

The pair ran into a sand bar in the lake, and suddenly a storm
came up. What would have been a mere nuisance to any boater took on
a bit more significance to Russell.

“Was that a deal! It was storming and thundering and lightning,
and I think Leon had taken some psychedelics. He saw that lightning
storm and thought it was a sign from above that he should settle
here,'' Blackwell said.

So he did. He found a lake attraction called Pappy Reeves'
Floating Motel and Fishing Dock (“You could pull your boat right
up to your room and fish right there,'' Blackwell said), bought it,
and converted it into a recording studio. He did the same thing to
the First Church of God at 304 S. Trenton Ave., which still exists
today as The Church Studio (where everyone from Dwight Twilley to
the Tractors have recorded). He also bought a Maple Ridge estate,
the Aaronson mansion at 1151 E. 24th Place, and did what he came to
do — he settled in.

Russell had been in Tulsa before. He'd practically grown up
here, which is why many say he felt like returning for a while at
the crest of his fame. Most musicians agree, though, that Russell's
growly drawl and piano pounding had an effect on local music that
was instrumental in — possibly even the foundation of — the
creation of the “Tulsa Sound,'' a subdued blend of country and
blues. A handful remember Russell's early years cutting his chops
in Tulsa beer halls, but many more refer to his mid-'70s stay and
his Tulsa-based record company, Shelter Records, as a watermark of
Tulsa music.

Russell was born C. Russell Bridges in Lawton in 1941, but he
migrated to Tulsa when he was just 14 to explore the bustling music
scene here.

“I got a lot of experience playing music. Oklahoma was a dry
state at the time, so there were no (under-age) laws, and I didn't
have any problems,'' he explains in the liner notes to his recent
greatest hits collection, “Gimmie Shelter'' on EMI Records,
written by Joseph Laredo.

Blackwell and Russell both went to Tulsa's Will Rogers High
School, but they met each other out playing music and eventually
played in some roadhouse bands together.

“I met Leon, I think, playing on a flatbed truck downtown. I
remember him sitting up at the piano on a couple of Coke boxes. He
wanted to get with me about forming a band,'' Blackwell said. “In
the early '60s or late '50s, one of the first bands we had, the
Starlighters, we'd play country in supper clubs — him, David Gates
and myself. Leon was good at playing Erroll Garner and stuff, and
then we'd rock when they were done with their meals.

“We were playing once, opening for Jerry Lee Lewis at the
Cain's (Ballroom). His band was kind of loose, and Leon was, too.
We got offered to go on the road with him, and we played for him
through Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska and Wyoming. At one Kansas gig, we
were in one of those hogwire places — this is back in the days
when things were pretty wild. Jerry had appendicitis, and the
doctor had to go out and quell the riot and tell people they could
get their money back. Leon went out there and played Jerry's
repertoire. He kicked the stool back and everything. Nobody wanted
their money back.''

The chance to play with Jerry Lee Lewis was a pivotal offer in
Russell's career. “I had a chance to go on the road with Jerry Lee
Lewis,'' he said in the best-of liner notes. “I'd just spent three
days, 12 hours a day, taking entrance examinations to Tulsa
University, and I just thought, "Well, it's a waste of time, 'cause
I have to study so many things I'm not interested in.' ROTC I had
to take, and right away I knew that I didn't want to do that. I
figured this was my chance to eat in a lot of restaurants and
travel around, playing some rock 'n' roll music, which I decided
was easier and better.''

In addition to Blackwell (who currently plays in Tulsa's
Fabulous Fleshtones) and Gates (who went on to form the band
Bread), Russell was playing with and absorbing the influences of
other Tulsa musicians, including J.J. Cale and Ronnie Hawkins, a
native Arkansan who was a big Tulsa presence at the time. But Lewis
had an effect on Russell that's evident in the first singles
Russell recorded in Tulsa, “Swanee River'' and “All Right,''
leased to the Chess label in 1959.

The year earlier, though, Russell headed west to find work where
all hungry musicians went: Los Angeles. He started selling some
songs, and in no time, he was working as a session player for the
likes of Phil Spector. Throughout the 1960s he racked up an
impressive list of studio credits, playing on recordings for the
Ronettes, Herb Alpert, the Righteous Brothers (“You've Lost That
Loving Feeling''), Paul Revere and the Raiders, the Byrds (on their
classic cover of Dylan's “Mr. Tambourine Man''), even Frank
Sinatra.

By 1969, he had hooked up with British producer Denny Cordell
who took Russell to England to work on Joe Cocker's second album,
from which Cocker scored a big hit with Russell's “Delta Lady.''

That year, Russell led the band for Cocker's notorious Mad Dogs and
Englishmen tour, a veritable circus of nearly three dozen players
that included one-time Russell girlfriend Rita Coolidge and pals
Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett.

On a trip through Detroit with Cocker et al., Leon ran into old
Tulsa pals David Teegarden and Skip Knape, who were playing the
area as Teegardan & Van Winkle. (Drummer Teegarden's Grammy-winning
association with Detroit's Bob Seger would begin a bit later.)

“We were inspired,'' Teegarden recalled in 1994. “We thought,
"Leon likes that gospel sound, so let's write our own gospel
tune.'' The song they came up with was “God, Love and Rock &
Roll,'' a 1970 single that became the duo's only Top 40 hit.
At the same time “God, Love and Rock and Roll'' was riding
up the charts, Russell's solo career was taking off. 1970's
self-titled debut included some of his best songs (“Delta Lady,''
“Shoot Out at the Plantation,'' “Hummingbird'' and the
now-standard “A Song for You''). The follow-up, “Leon Russell and
the Shelter People,'' heralded both the foundation of Shelter, his
record label, and the return to Tulsa. A few songs are backed by a
group of Tulsa musicians Russell called the Tulsa Tops, though the
song “Home Sweet Oklahoma'' (with the chorus, “I'm going back to
Tulsa just one more time'') was recorded with “friends in
England.''

At the height of his success, Russell came back to Tulsa. In
July 1972, he bought the Grand Lake property, and by 1973 his
land-buying spree had included 54 different pieces of property,
including lots near 61st Street and Madison Avenue, in the 1600
block of South Boston Avenue and at the corner of 16th Street and
Utica Avenue.

The lake retreat was the crown jewel, though — 7 1/2 acres on a
point so secluded that many lake residents didn't even know the
five buildings (sound-proof studio, 3,500-square-foot house,
swimming pool, guest apartments) were being built. It soon became
affectionately known around the lake as “the hippie place.''

The house in Maple Ridge was the scene of parties of all sorts.
Instead of the rock 'n' roll bashes you might expect, Russell's
fetes usually were warm gatherings of friends. In June 1973,
Russell's close friend (and still a Tulsa resident) Emily Smith was
married at the house in a festive ceremony; Russell himself married
Tulsa singer Mary McCreary a couple of years later. In July 1973,
Russell hosted a benefit party to help the Maple Ridge Association
raise money to pay the legal debt it tallied while blocking
construction of the proposed Riverside Expressway.

The church studio quickly became home of Shelter Records, the
label Russell founded in Los Angeles and moved to Tulsa shortly
after he returned.

A lot of noted musicians came through to use Russell's studios,
including Bob Dylan and J.J. Cale, but neither was built with
money-making opportunities in mind; rather, they were simply
retreats from the distractions of Los Angeles. An associate of
Russell's at the time was quoted in the Tulsa World saying, “Leon
just wants a place where he can record any time he feels like it.''

Russell chose not to utilize his fame only to lure big talent to
town; he frequently used his musical muscle to push Tulsa musicians
into the national limelight. Tulsa hitmaker Dwight Twilley got his
first break through Shelter Records, as did the Gap Band, which
Russell used as his backing band on his 1974 album, “Stop All That
Jazz.''

Les Blank, a California documentary filmmaker, got to see and
document the parade of talent through Russell's studios during that
time. Blank got a call in 1972 from Cordell, Russell's producer,
who pitched him the idea of hanging out with Russell and his
teeming bunch of hangers-on, filming the whole scene all the while.

Blank, whose grants on other films had run out, jumped at the
project and spent the next two years in Tulsa, shooting film of the
action.

“It was kind of a continuous party,'' Blank said in an
interview from his current California home. “There were recording
sessions that would go all night long. There was a constant influx
of people coming and going. I think the people were excited to have
all the new play toys — things like computerized mixing panels.

There was this sense of momentum that seemed to be feeding on
itself as a result of the records and concerts doing really well
... People just felt like they were in the right place at the right
time.''

Blank's cameras followed Russell's entourage nearly everywhere,
from a weekend jaunt to see the mysterious spook light in
northeastern Oklahoma to Russell's recording sessions in Nashville.

However, you probably won't see the film that resulted from all
that footage. Although Russell approved the project's beginning,
when the film was finished he decided not to approve of its
release, and Blank said he has yet to receive a concrete
explanation why. Blank is allowed only to show a 16mm copy of the
film for no profit. He showed it at the University of Oklahoma in
1991.

“People, I guess, who have an image to protect are sensitive to
how it's presented and perceived,'' Blank said.

That's Russell to a tee. Rarely giving interviews (requests for
this story went expectedly unanswered), Russell has guarded his
privacy fiercely. In fact, though he returned to Tulsa to escape
the bustle of Los Angeles, he ended up leaving Tulsa again because
the pressures of fame were just as weighty here.

Russell sold the Maple Ridge home in 1977 and moved back to
California, but in two years he was back, telling the Tulsa
Tribune, “I've decided I like Tulsa a lot ... I've got a lot more
friends in Tulsa than I do in California, so I'll be spending a lot
more time here.''

But he left again because of incidents like the one reported in
the Tulsa World on Oct. 19, 1979. The headline read, “Top Rock
Star Turns Tulsa Courthouse On,'' and the newsworthiness of the
story seems quaint on reflection. All Russell had done was go to
the courthouse to renew his passport. However, the story says, “No
sooner had he taken off his mirror-lens sunglasses Thursday
afternoon and sat down at a desk when gawkers gathered outside the
glass-walled office. Bolder ones walked in quickly, asking for
autographs.''

In a 1984 Tulsa World story, Russell reflected on that aspect of
Tulsa living: “Tulsa wasn't used to my sort of reality. I went to
the bank to borrow $50,000 and that prompted a story studying the
finances of people in the music business.''

By then, Russell had moved to Nashville, a town that better
suited him as a home and a musical headquarters. Russell always had
drifted in and out of country, recording a straight-up country
record under a pseudonym Hank Wilson in 1973 and a duet album with
Willie Nelson in 1979. After a Hank Wilson sequel album, Russell
laid out of the spotlight until a 1992 comeback with the Bruce
Hornsby-produced record “Anything Can Happen.''

He still lives near Nashville today, but he comes back to Tulsa
— just one more time — every year near the first of April for his
annual birthday concert. This year's show, the fifth such event,
took place April 11 at an old haunt Russell knows well, the Brady
Theater (fellow Tulsa-native musician Bill Davis opened the show).

Russell's son, Teddy Jack, now plays drums in his band.

What Russell does next is anybody's guess.

“Predictability,'' he has said, “is not one of my strong
points.''


Leon Russell
With Dwight Twilley, and Gary Busey as Buddy Holly
When 7:30 p.m. Saturday
Where River Parks Ampitheater, 2100 S. Jackson Ave.
Tickets $10, available at The Ticket Office, Dillards and the Brady Theater
box office


 
 

By Thomas Conner
© Tulsa World

Hanson
“Snowed In''
(Mercury)

Christmas is a kids' holiday,
right? So tune into the true spirit of the season with this
exuberant pop album from Tulsa's own international sensations.
Granted, most of Hanson's covers of Christmas classics — written
scores before they were born — are frequently cloying and don't
necessarily improve on them, but these are carols for the Spice
Girls' Generation Next; they ain't s'pposed to be reverent. A
handful of originals keeps the spirit bright, like the sincerity of
“At Christmas'' and the frenzied funk of “Everybody Knows the
Claus'' (“Ridin' down the air highway in his sleigh / Bringing all
the presents for the next day — don't forget the donuts!'').
Taylor continues exploding with soul, while Isaac shows signs of
becoming Bolton-esque.