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If we had to sum up our collective experiences during the recording of Cocaine Drain with one word, it would be "school."
In 1978, The Cowsills were eight years past our prime - already a has-been musical group. Terms like "oldies," "tribute bands," and "artist impersonator" hadn't come in to being yet. There were no "oldies" tours and no "oldies groups" yet, because none of the generation of musicians who were going to feed that furture phenomenon (for many decades to come) hadn't aged yet appreciably. We were all still quite young. At 16, Susan had already been through a successful career, and in 1976 had launched her solo career (which would continue to this day) in New Orleans, but at the time was limited to a singles deal with Warner Bros., which would sadly not produce a bit.
By 1978, I was writing songs, and had actually never stopped. So, we did what we had always done - and would even continue to do for decades to come - go into the studio to record songs. We had songs to record.
The group went to Clover Studios down on Santa Monica Boulevard in Hollywood, and we started recording demos with Chuck Plotkin and engineer Toby Scott. While recording demos of new songs, Chuck taught us how to get drum sounds, how to mix, how to write good songs, how to produce recording sessions. He brought us material from the outside to demo. Songs from Andrew Gold, Kenny Edwards, Wendy Waldman, Steve Ferguson, Buzzy Feiten - some of which made it on to Cocain Drain.
We went into Clover one Sunday and recorded 16 songs in a row that we had written. An early version of "Gettin' Ready" was in that group. Nobody had ever heard the rest of those songs.
Eventually, after days and days of rehearsal and preparation at Earshot Studios in Burbank (thank you Bob Chambers), we were ready for primary recordings to begin. What really triggered starting the sessions was the song "Thinking Of You," which was one of the songs demoed that worked out . . . and the demo became the master on that one. From there, the songs came. From within and without, we immersed ourselves at Clover Studios and really went to "school." We really got a recording and writing frenzy going. Even when we were done, and Paul and I had written "Is Your Love Alive?," we kept coming up with songs. Chuck kept us in the studio, even if we had to book elsewhere - like at Emitt Rhodes' studio (garage!) in the San Fernando Valley. We recorded five more songs, and then the whole thing just stopped. We got as far as the album being sequenced by Val Garay, then it went south, and the reason is complex as you can imagine.
Susan was forging a separate path with Dwight Twilley, and Chuck Plotkin was forging a separate path with Bruce Springsteen (all because Bruce, the perfectionist, couldn't find an engineer in the country who could mix Darkness On The Edge Of Town until he met Chuck), so - there went our lead singer and producer. For a brief moment, we did think, "This is not going to stand," and actually auditioned girl singers to replace Susan so we could continue. Today we laugh at that one.
We love recording and writing and those days were so wonderful and crazy and fulfilling. We learned everything we could from Chuck, but like always, when it went south, we retreated, withdrew and went back to our lives having recorded the first of a few very fine albums that were not going to do much of anything for us outside the world of being satisfied that we made a good record.
- Bob Cowsill
July 2025
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Sometime in 1978, The Cowsills were playing a show at The Troubadour in Hollywood. Playing greatest hits was the last thing on their minds, since they had new material they'd labored over and loved. So of course their set gets interrrupted by one guy, standing up and yelling for an oldie: "Indian Lake! Play Indian Lake!" They politely shushed the guy, explained that wasn't where they were at, and carried on with the new songs - not learning until later that the guy was Brian Wilson.
It wasn't easy being The Cowsills in the late '70s. The very same '60s sunshine pop associations that make them hip today had just the opposite effect back then. Though they were still a young band (all under 30 at decade's end), the industry was writing them off as relics. Yet the album you're now holding had the goods to hit FM radio where it lived. Written largely by Bob Cowsill and sporting the trademark sparkling harmonies, the album could have established The Cowsills as modern hitmakes - and could have made a superstar out of Susan, who was now the full-time lead singer. If only it had been released at the time . . .
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"It's one of our favorite family albums," says Bob Cowsill. "I will say there is a '70s feel to it, some of those drum sounds are dry and upfront. And sure, we were paying attention; things come into our brains and filter through us as writers. Our genetic makeup is what it is, and every album we do has that spilling through it. We understand now that it never came out, just like we understand everything about the music business. Okay, you didn't buy this one, fine, but we'll ride the ride. But you've always got to be true to yourself."
The story really begins back in 1972 when The Cowsills disbanded as a group. They'd recently changed labels and made the album On My Side with a grown up folk-rock sound, then a couple later singles that restored oldest brother Bill to the lineup. None of it caught on, and the family went to separate corners. Bob to return to school and keep writing songs, John to drum with various bands back in Newport, RI. Meanwile Paul had moved up in the music industry, working for Jeff Wald's management company and road managing his main client (and wife), Helen Reddy. With Wald's help Paul got signed to Capitol to form a new band, dubbed Bridey Murphy. Brothers Bill, Barry, and John were all briefly involved, though the A-side of Bridey Murphy's one single, "The Time Has Come" features only Paul and multi-instrumentalist Waddy Wachtel. Nearly joining up at one point were two promising songwriters Wachtel was also friendly with: Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks.
Susan too was looking to make a new start, though she swears she only pursued a solo career because her mom insisted she either go back to school or get a job. "I'll always be a singer but I am a reluctant solo artist, and I don't know if I would have even pursued this gift if I hadn't been born a Cowsill," she says. "So yes, it was about staying out of school. Lenny Waronker from Warner Bros. thought it would be a good idea to give me a singles deal, and that's when my musical journey began. I now had to decide what I was going to sing. I remember my brother Barry bringing Linda Ronstadt's "Different Drum" into the office because he thought I sounded like her." Fittingly enough, a highlight of the four Warners tracks was a version of Warren Zevon's "Mohammad's Radio" - suggested by her friend Jackson Browne - that predates Ronstadt's similar one by a few years. Susan still sings it to this day.
That circle of L.A. connections included two people who'd play a pivotal role in these sessions. Jon Meyer was a management associate of Wald's, who also became Paul's closet friend and Susan's romantic partner. Through him and Browne they got introduced to Chuck Plotkin - a magic-touch producer who'd already had success with Orleans and Andrew Gold, and was soon to have a lot more with Bruce Springsteen. Having these two heavy hitters in their corner made a huge difference for The Cowsills. As Susan puts it, "Jon Meyer was our Brian Epstein and Chuck Plotkin was our George Martin."
By now the four core members - Bob, John, Paul, and Susan - had settled in Hollywood and were open to another try. Bill was out of the picture, having started a new life in Canada. Barry had mixed feeling about being a Cowsill again so he never fully rejoined, but did show up for many of the sessions and live shows. Paul took on the bass, Barry played rhythm guitar when present, Bob was now the lead guitarist. The group played the clubs fairly often in this time, often billed incognito as either The Critics or The Secrets. John Cowsill recalls talking to Springsteen, who was among those advising them to take on a new name.
Far as the brothers were concerned, moving Susan up to lead singer was a no-brainer. "She had by far the best voice," says John. Adds Bob, "You do what's best
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for the song. And Susan had this young, uplifting, beautiful voice. You just fell in love with it, and for us to harmonize behind it felt wonderful. I think we were all enamored of her talent."
Susan saw it a little differently. "In my head we were just a band, and I happened to be the chick lead singer. That didn't mean anything like stepping out front. To me we are an interchangeable mix of voices and bodies and people; that's a family thing and there wasn't a lot of caring about who did what." Still, there were always record labels looking to poach Susan for a solo career. "I remember being at the Starwood with Plotkin and someone from a record label came up to me and he said, 'The first thing we're going to do is get you to stop biting your nails.' So I cranked a middle finger at him, broken nail and all."
Plotkin gave The Cowsills a development deal, spending endless hours in the studio polishing up arrangements and pushing Bob to throw out songs and write better ones. "The University of Plotkin was an amazing education," says John. "He believed in us so hard and we loved him. I learned from those sessions that I didn't suck." Paul, who'd switched from keyboards to bass, recalls trying to nail the tough bassline of the title track. "I looked right at him and said 'Dude, I can't do that.' And just said, 'Yes you can.' It was a real master class." Though he and Bill had written most of The Cowsills' originals in the past, Bob felt like he was starting over. "I kept writing songs for Chuck, and he knows they're not that good. Finally I came up with one where he said, 'Now that's a song'."
That first one to get Plotkin's thumbs-up was called "You Lied," but the group worked so much on that song that they burned out on it and shelved it. But an obvious winner from that first batch of songs was the lovely and emotive "Thinking Of You," which includes trademark piano from Little Feat's Bill Payne. The song holds a bittersweet memory for Susan, as Jon Meyer had become seriously ill, and it was one of her last chances to sing for him in the studio.
They didn't think much about chasing musical trends, with one exception, says Bob. "I blame disco for a lot of what happened. Now, we're not disco. Plotkin knew that, Elektra-Asylum knew it, everybody knew it. But we thought okay, we'll write a disco song. That's where 'Is Your Love Alive?' came from, even though it's not really a disco song." But it does wrap some joyful pop essence around the big beat, as does the other almost-disco number "Dance In A Dream." The latter was the only original to see release at the time, on the second solo album by Dwight Twilley's former musical partner Phil Seymour. His guitarist couldn't nail the part so Bob came in and played it himself.
Bob wrote seven of ten songs pegged for the album, with occasional help from Paul. Plotkin hooked them up with keyboardist Dennis Castanares, who became the auxillary man in the studio, andf with songwriters Buzzy Feiten (from The Rascals' fusion-era lineup) and Steve Ferguson (the Asylum songwriter, not the ex-NRBQ guitarist), who respectively brought in "Part Of Me" and "Give Me A Chance."
Orleans leader John Hall came up with the title track, which would likely have raised eybrows if released, even with its anti-coke sentiments. Clapton nad Fleetwood Mac could sing about cocaine, but The Cowsills? "Damn right, we said that song is going to come out and The Cowsills are doing it," said Susan. "Hey, it was the '70s and '80s in Los Angeles, and everybody who lived there knows what it was like at that time. There was no reason not to do a song that was relevant." Hall released a moody acoustic version himself; but The Cowsills' take has a funkier groove that recalls "The Long Run" by the Eagles - quite a feat, since that song wasn't written yet.
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With a ten-track album in the can, The Cowsills and Plotkin just kept reording. The five bonus tracks were part of a possible follow-up, done at a different San Fernando Valley studio, owned by cult hero Emitt Rhodes (who also wasn't present, so there was no summit meeting). But these songs sport a guitar-driven power pop sound, bringing the '60s roots more into play - especially on "Say You Love Me", where Bob plays a Byrdsy 12-string lead. They provide a natural bridge to the sound of the Global album a decade later.
So what exactly went wrong? "It just fizzled, man," says John. "We didn't know the business then and we don't know it now." It was expected that Elektra-Asylum would release the album, thanks to Plotkin's relatioship with the label. But he wound up getting deeper into the Springsteen orbit and moving to New York, leaving a lot of unfinished business in Hollywood - including finding The Cowsills' album a home; Bob says that the label never even got to hear it (nor was it formally named Cocaine Drain, though that became its colloquial title over the years). It got as far as another hot producer, Val Garay, sequencing and mastering the album. The master tapes went missing decades ago; but some modern wizardry has been applied to significantly upgrade the sound of Garay's acetate.
Another issue was Susan's going her own way. She'd begun a relationship with power-pop maestro Dwight Twilley, who had a few opinions about his girlfriend being a performer. So her exit from The Cowsills wasn't so much for musical reasons. "I can tell you that Mr. Twilley was an old-fashioned sort of guy,and he didn't like his girlfriend to be up there sweating for men, which is what he called it. That's the truth, and I was very much in love. I'm a domestic person and I thought I was going to get married and have a baby, that was what I wanted." Though that didn't happen with Twilley, she became his musical partner through the early '80s; her harmonies (and John's drums) are all over two of his best and most popular albums, Suba Divers and Jungle.
Plotkin did get The Cowsills onto the Living Room Suite album by Harry Chapin, who gave them an appreciative note in the credits. Less known (because he wasn't credited) is that John Cowsill appeared on Bob Dylan's Shot of Love album, playing timpani on "Trouble." As he recalls, "I had time to just hang out so I was really living at Clover Studios. I remember Ringo, Ron Wood, and Jim Keltner being there, all trying to get Bob off the back steps and into the studio." John of course would later join his former heckler Brian Wilson in The Beach Boys.
As for Cocaine Drain, it can't be a great feeling to know you've done something special and that the world won't get to hear it, at least until the internet and specialty record labels are invented. "It's the first time I really experienced rejection on a level of, 'Okay, I was wrong about that,' " Bob admits. "But we had things aligning in front of us until it all fell apart. We made a great record, we had a great producer, and there was that clan of musicians around us that we liked. But it's our history: When things fall apart we recoil and we go back to our lives until the next thing comes up. We didn't think that someday there would be oldies tours [like the Happy Together tour where The Cowsills are a beloved fixture] that would keep people like us on the road for decades. Who knew?"
Adds Susan, "When I think of this album and our evolution, I feel like I'm watching my own Laurel Canyon story. We had these moments to look back on, and my guys got to be a part of it. We are who we are, we're meant to be exactly who we are. And I am proud of every musical minute."
-Brett Milano
July 2025
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