From goffmac747@aol.com Sat Mar 01 08:53:22 2008
Subject:Re: Passing of a great keyboard player

You got it...

I found it interesting the use of sax with the Vox organ. Also the
melodies with use of delay. It set the DC5 apart. On Because, the organ
parts really fit, even with the flub in the organ solo..hehehe.... More
so than had Mike used any other organ. It might've sounded like a dirge
instead of pop had he used a traditional Hammond sound. I can
understand the rave over the Beatles, but at that time it was a British
invasion and the more the merrier. It was a magic time...

-----Original Message-----
From: David Jacques
To: CloneWheel@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Sun, 2 Mar 2008 12:19 am
Subject: RE: [CWSG] Passing of a great keyboard player

I grew up in the 60s and 70s and never really dug the DC5. I was a
die-hard

Beatles fan and thought that the DC5's music was in comparison simple
and

uninteresting. Yesterday I went to the DC5 website and listened to the
songs

again, and dug them. Maybe in my old age I am now able to listen to
these

tunes in perspective. They were good and poppy, and something
different. All

the successful bands of the 60's had a distinct sound (unlike most
music of

the past 20 years). The DC5 had their own sound.

_____

From: CloneWheel@yahoogroups.com [mailto:CloneWheel@yahoogroups.com] On

Behalf Of goffmac747@aol.com

Sent: Saturday, March 01, 2008 3:36 AM

To: CloneWheel@yahoogroups.com

Subject: Re: [CWSG] Passing of a great keyboard player

Nice words and vapors of the times when the DC5 were the other Beatles.

But more than that, they were the Dave Clark 5. The songs and Mike's

voice were all the DC5 needed. Glad All Over, Because, Bits and Pieces,

Do You Love Me, Over and Over, I like It Like That, Catch Us If You

Can.. They had a sound. In a way I see the young band The Click Five to

be clones of Mike and Dave's band. Same look, suits with mop tops, band

name on white kick drum front.. I understand the commercial hype the

record company might have put the DC5 through. But business merging

with art has always been hit and miss and probably always will. I think

musicians make a choice going through life. Live on the edge or live in

security. I once met a songwriter in San Diego who wrote a hit or two

for Nat King Cole. He was still writing songs living in a cheap

apartment and wanting to make his next demo of his latest composition...

We don't know why tragedy happens to us. At least Mike left much behind

and took something with him.

-----Original Message-----

From: daddyo@telusplanet. net

To: CloneWheel@yahoogro ups.com

Sent: Sat, 1 Mar 2008 10:11 am

Subject: Re: [CWSG] Passing of a great keyboard player

A great essay from the Canadian Classic Rock egroup:

Lefsetz:

I admired the Beatles, was positively gaga over them. I had a

special relationship with George Harrison, the quiet, brooding one, but

I

wanted to be Mike Smith. Mike Smith and Dennis Wilson, to be honest

with you.

Dennis Wilson's carefree attitude came across in the pictures on the

back of the Beach Boys albums. It seemed they were snapped just as

he'd come out of the surf, or jumped out of a jeep. They weren't

posed, it's like they caught him in action, like he was always moving

too

fast for the photographer. Brian might have been the certified

genius, but I moved to California because of Dennis.

But it took years for me to make it to the Golden State. And

ensconced in Connecticut I lived through rainy weather akin to England.

We

were inside, we were clad in shirts and trousers as opposed to

bathing suits. It wasn't so much about fun as style. Not exactly

style,

but something deeper. Who you were was very important on the east

coast, still is. Who your parents are, what your c.v. is. Still, you

go a lot further if you look good. And to me, no one looked better

than Mike Smith.

Caught up in Beatlemania, I purchased the next best thing, the Dave

Clark Five's debut album, to be closer to "Glad All Over" and "Bits

and Pieces", which they used to stomp their boots to on television.

The album cover was cheesy. Black and white with a bit of orange.

But

despite the low rent design, Mike Smith shined through, leaning back

from his organ, in his tight white pants and black jacket. I never

got that tall, I don't remember ever being that skinny. But I wanted

to be.

I played that first Dave Clark Five album over and over and over

again. Until I finally convinced myself it just wasn't that good. I

got

into the album groove immediately, singles didn't make sense,

economically they were a rip-off. If you played "Meet The Beatles" long

enough, you loved every track. But I never came to love every Dave

Clark Five track. But, I did cotton to two album cuts, "Do You Love Me"

and "Chaquita".

And maybe that's why I bought the follow-up, "The Dave Clark Five

Return!" Maybe I figured the hit to shit ratio could only increase.

But I was wrong. It was one of my least played albums. Bookended by

the only two good tracks, "Can't You See That She's Mine" and their

cover of "On Broadway". But Mike looked cool on the cover. And I

looked at that cover quite a bit.

There were a few more hits. But I never bought another album, I felt

ripped off. But not by Mike, but the label. They must have made

him do it. He'd emerge as a solo, he had all the talent.

But this never happened. The Dave Clark Five became a curio,

available in the CD marketplace only briefly. Thank god for the

Internet,

where you can download these songs instantly. The music is being kept

alive.

But Mike Smith is now dead.

I didn't know him. Maybe it's better this way, all I've got is my

memories. When being in your twenties seemed ancient, when we went to

school and debated bands, when I saved all my money to buy records.

Music was a secret society, owned by the youth. Our parents didn't

understand, and we couldn't convince them otherwise. They laughed at

the Beatles. They told us to turn the music down. And then

everything flip-flopped, we and the music triumphed. And in the

process, all

the quaintness, all the vitality, was eviscerated. It was all about

the money.

I doubt Mike Smith had much money. But back then, music was

temporary. Not in terms of its longevity so much as it wasn't a career.

Going to school I dreamed of being a rock star, but I knew it could

never happen. The odds were too long. I didn't have the looks. My

upbringing was too middle class. Yet my heroes were these Limeys who

struggled, who seemed to do everything on a lark, who having less at

risk appeared to be carefree, they could follow their mood, their

heart's desire. And that's what drew us to them. They were alive.

But, like I said, Mike Smith died. Today.

But when I hear "Can't You See That She's Mine", he'll forever be

alive. As the coolest guy in the room, a slave to nothing other than

music. And girls. We played the records at summer camp. The bands

performed them at Bar Mitzvah parties. We tried out our nascent lines

on the opposite sex. And no matter what happened, no matter what

failures we experienced, when we listened to the tunes, we were kings.

Brock Gillis