By James Muretich
Billy Cowsill jumps up from his chair, strums a beat-up guitar that’s missing two strings and sings along with the pre-recorded accompaniment on a nearby tape deck.
There’s a gleam in his eyes, a look of pleasure that comes from having penned a new tune that sounds like a winner.
The interview room at the Herald is rocking. When the song ends, a columnist stick her head inside and ask what’s going on? She sits down and Cowsill does the tune one more time – with gusto.
The spirit is there even if his talent is overlooked these days. Fifteen years ago, Cowsill was filing 1,000 seat concerts venues with his performances.
Back there he was a member of the family pop group The Cowsills, an act which scored four top-40 hits in the late ‘60s: The Rain, The Park & Other Things, We Can Fly, Indian Lake and Hair (their version selling 2 ½ million copies).
The Cowsills were so popular a television program – The Partridge Family – was modelled after them.
That “overnight success” occurred when MGM picked the group up, following their brief stints with two other labels. One of these, Joda Records, was a black record company which wanted to make The Cowsills into a white R & B act.
“MGM picked up our independent recording of The Rain, The Park & Other Things. Suddenly, we were on a 40-city tour and by the time we got across the country the single was number one,” says Cowsill.
“We were hicks from Rhode Island who were so poor we lived with the heat turned off during the winter. And I’m talking freezing. I mean, animals literally froze to death in our place. Then, a year later, we had a certified gold record and were living in a penthouse.”
A few hits and a few years later, the bubble burst and Cowsill descended into a hard-drinking phase that was to take its toll before he went dry three years ago.
“I got burned in that Cowsills’ thing by being manipulated and not growing up fast enough to take control. They tried to turn us into a bubblegum act and my brother and I were serious musicians. I was trying to impress old friends, like Warren Zevon and Waddy Wachtel, not play that stuff,” says the 36-year-old Cowsill.
“So I proceeded to botch myself. I became an alcoholic who liked spitting in the devil’s eye and watching it sizzle.”
He then played with Gary Lewis in a band called Medicine, following Lewis’s return from Vietnam (“he was really messed up”) with J.J. Cale and also with Texas rocker Joe Ely.
“I was going through your basic natural matriculation,” says Cowsill.
“Joe (Ely) and I played for beer and hamburgers at the Kettle of Fish in New York. We then moved on to Texas Tech and played there for beer, hamburgers and waitresses.
“That was a time when I had no respect for living things. I would rip a tree off a branch to be funny – and it just wasn’t funny. Joe taught me about life and helped me change. I began to realize that I was just spinning my wheels.
“That’s why I’d like a hit song again. A lot of my old friends are doing great and I’d like to take them out for a drink.”
The likelihood of that happening is not as far-fetched as it may sound to some.
Since May, Cowsill has been living in Calgary and is soon to launch another assault on the music world with an independent mini-album.
As well, Cowsill and his manager, Neil MacGonigill, are actively and optimistically exploring their contacts in Nashville.
“Nashville is the place for Billy,” says MacGonigill.
“You’ve got John Cougar producing John Prine down there and bands like Jason and the Scorchers. Billy calls his music a cross between the Rolling Stone and Roy Rogers.
“Basically, this mini-album we’re doing is to sell at live gigs and to be a calling card we can use when shopping around for a major dean in Nashville.”
Cowsill feels his songwriting skills have come together, following recent stints with Blue Northern (a Vancouver-based band which had one album out on Polygram Records) and Billy Mitchell’s Train Wreck (an old-time Rock ‘n’ roll band with Lindsey Mitchell of Prism).
As well, there is his voice.
Cowsill possesses a remarkable set of vocal chords which can adapt to any style, from rockabilly and pop to country and hard-nosed rockers.
“I don’t try to imitate anyone when I’m singing, but I do try to project the essence of what I was feeling when I heard a particular song or style. I try to capture the spirit rather than a singer,” says Cowsill.
(He can be heard blending covers and originals at McGee’s (formerly Ten Ten and the Scotch ‘n’ Sirloin) every Thursday to Saturday until Dec 1, accompanied by bassist Elmar Spanier.)
“Besides, the essence of music is simple, I know there are people out there who are in love or hurting and I just want them to know that they don’t have a monopoly on those feelings.
“All I’m saying is: Here we are. It’s 1984. I hope this makes you feel better.”
Billy Cowsill certainly does.
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