In the beginning, there was the Word.
While I love rock ‘n’ roll, Stan Freberg was able to lampoon its own mumbling, monotonous excesses in a way that was ridiculously funny, precisely because he could replicate it so well on his comedy albums, with a gleeful mimicry not even Weird Al was capable of.
For a man with a lot of artistic problems, he’s one of the best.
Somehow the email chain we had started with L.A. RECORD never completed itself, and she never did write anything for us. And she never came to A Rrose in a Prose. And she never will.
In hearing of his passing, I couldn’t help but think to 2008, when another friend of our extended bohemian community, Gina Marx, had gone missing. Many thought she had taken her own life, or come to a violent end. And it was William Mitchell who did the legwork to actually find her, and to let us know she was okay.
The less I say about this, the better, but it is true: I am no longer working for Jazzed.com or eHarmony.com.
He was a titan in his field, an innovator, and it was a supreme pleasure to interview Mr. Scruggs and his son Gary many years ago, as one of my first assignments for L.A. RECORD. He will be missed.