Remembering Moby Grape Guitarist Jerry Miller
Miller and Bandmate Don Stevenson Recalled the Band’s ‘Psychedelic Masterpiece’ Debut
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Jerry Miller was a founding member and lead guitarist of Moby Grape, the underrated 1960s band whose self-titled debut album helped define the San Francisco Sound. Miller, 81, died on July 21, 2024; no cause was given. We had the privilege of interviewing Miller a number of times from his hometown of Tacoma, WA.
In a 2013 interview, revisited in 2017 on the 50th anniversary of the release of their monumental album, Miller and drummer Don Stevenson recalled the band’s early days, wild nights and explained how the album came about.
During San Francisco’s 1967 Summer of Love bands like Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead and Big Brother and the Holding Company could be seen most nights at the Avalon Ballroom and promoter Bill Graham’s Fillmore Auditorium. But on June 6, 1967 a Bay Area group with a much lower profile, Moby Grape, released a debut album acclaimed as a “psychedelic masterpiece.”
Drugs, breakdowns, lawsuits and the simultaneous release of five singles from the album ensured that Moby Grape would never top their self-titled debut. But more than 50 years later the disc remains as irresistible as ever.
The band’s country-rock sound featured three guitarists and intricately layered vocal harmonies that inspired Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant and the Doobie Brothers’ Tom Johnston. Lead guitarist Jerry Miller, bassist Bob Mosley, drummer Don Stevenson and guitarists Peter Lewis, who is actress Loretta Young’s son, and Skip Spence were all accomplished writers and singers.
Spence, who died in 1999, contributed great tunes like “Indifference” and “Omaha,” the band’s show-closer. Songs like “Hey Grandma” and the heartfelt “8:05” were co-written by Miller and Stevenson. We spoke with Miller, a mainstay of most lists of rock’s greatest guitarists, and Stevenson, who “flipped the bird” on the album cover. The drummer’s middle finger, airbrushed out of later releases, was restored on reissues years later. The pair first got together in a Seattle bar band called the Frantics.
Why did you decide to move to San Francisco from Seattle?
Jerry Miller: That’s where all the action is. We took a look at what was goin’ on at the Longshoremen’s Hall and the Avalon and the Fillmore and we said, “Hey man, this looks like what we should be doin’. We can do our own stuff.” So we quit the club stuff.
How did the Grape come together?
Don Stevenson: We went out to the Airport and saw the Joel Scott Hill Trio, with Bob Mosley playing bass and Joni Lyman singing and God, they were awesome. Bob Mosley was like Adonis, he was like a god. We talked him into playing with the Frantics. Mosley played with us and then the Frantics broke up.
Jerry Miller: Later Mosley called us up; he had bumped into Peter Lewis and said, “We need a guitar and we need a drummer.” So there we were. And then came Skippy Spence. We got together and we plugged in and we played, the five of us, and we knew right away that that was the band that could do something. We had Skippy, myself, Don, Bob and Pete. It was just magic. A very magical band.
What was the music scene like back then?
Jerry Miller: We were all friends, we all played at the Heliport, a practice place. In one room would be Quicksilver, in another room would be Big Brother, in another room would be Sons of Champlin and Moby Grape had a room and we’d just all be practicin’, going from room to room, smokin’ our brains out. We were pretty well tuned up by the time we were practicin’, I’ll tell you that.
How did you come to write “8:05”?
Jerry Miller: I wrote most of “8:05” when I going across the Golden Gate Bridge. I asked the toll guy what time it was and he said, “8:05.” So halfway across the bridge I sang, “8:05, I think I’ll drive off this bridge.” And I said, “It’s got a nice little melody so I think I’ll keep the melody and forget about the driving off the bridge.”
Don Stevenson: We got a guitar and it just turned into kind of a love song. Jerry and I sing harmony on that song. That’s the Everly Brothers touch, you know?
“Hey Grandma.” What was the inspiration for that?
Don Stevenson: It was the fad of granny dresses so we kind of went, “Hey Grandma, you’re so young.” That was the inspiration, all these great lookin’ women in these unflattering dresses [laughs].
Jerry Miller: My grandma, she was pretty sure it was written just for her. I didn’t tell her otherwise either.
In it you sing, “Robitussin make me feel so fine.” Who was drinking that?
Jerry Miller: When I was playing at a place called the Seaport in Tacoma, some of the folks were getting into a little bit of the cough syrup from time to time. The good stuff, you know, like Tussar, that stuff would knock you on your butt. I remember I had a cold and a fever playing at this club. This guy went down to the local drug store and came back with Robitussin. And I drank some of it, almost passed out.
It’s funny, 16 Magazine had us in the magazine all the time. They would have the lyrics and they couldn’t say “Robitussin” so they said, “a good mussin’”: “A good mussin’ make me feel so fine.” They didn’t want to corrupt the kids. Whatever.
Then there was “S.F. freak scene was on my mind / Fillmore Slim just a-wastin’ time.” Who was Fillmore Slim?
Jerry Miller: Fillmore Slim was a real guy! He was in Seattle at first, he was a pimp. When we were down in San Francisco they had a documentary on pimps and here he comes cruisin’ through the Fillmore district in a big lime green Cadillac with a lime green suit and a lime green fedora. The news people are talkin’ to him and I looked at Don and said, “Look, it’s Fillmore Slim there!” So there he was, Fillmore Slim, just a-wastin’ time.
What were the strengths of each member of the band?
Don Stevenson: Peter always tried harder than anybody. Being the son of a famous mother like Loretta Young puts you in a situation where you’re always trying to create your own thing. He’s really a good poet. And his finger picking was really, really good. I consider him to be a really great songwriter.
Skippy was a creative genius. He was a really good drummer, he played drums in Jefferson Airplane. He didn’t finger pick and he didn’t do lead but he floated. He was like the fabric that creates a tapestry. He would create these great guitar parts that fit in between two obviously different styles.
Jerry Miller: Skippy was a real solid rhythm player. He was an amazing guy. An amazing songwriter. A real good friend. He would put the palm of his hand on the bottom of the strings by the bridge and get this little funky sound and then they’d just leave me wide open to play whatever I had in mind. Knowing a few little jazz things, lead things, I could kind of fit my part in there real good.
Don Stevenson: Skip could have been Dylan or something. He was like an imaginary person [laughs]. Skippy wanted to change our name on every album. He said, “Let’s do our second album as The Cows.” We liked it, but the suits wouldn’t tolerate it.
Jerry Miller: Of course, Mosley was the strongest singer. Bill Graham called him the best white blues singer in the world.
Moby Grape often performed at Bill Graham’s Fillmore East in New York. Miller called Moby Grape’s last appearance “probably our worst night.”
Jerry Miller: Bill Graham was the bottom line, the man. He just knew how to put things together, he was there at the right time, and he ran the show. He made sure everything happened on time. Bill ran a tight ship, man, and he got everything right.
Bill was fair. He had a kind of personality, you didn’t want to mess up with him. Because he would snap at you. He would have made a good foreman or something. You’d have got the job done.
One of the main things I remember was Bill out in front of the Fillmore and it was a night you had the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Moby Grape playing two sets each and this guy’s out in front bitching and moaning that three dollars is too much. And Bill is saying, “That’s a fair price!” They’re out there ready to roll out the knuckle drill. And they’re arguing back and forth and I’m laughing.
One night we played, we went out there, it was the last time we played there, of course, because we had this idea we were going to go out and sit down and play. And Bill Graham said, “All right, all you guys need is coffins.” I said, “Oh, man.”
We always had these goofy ideas. But I didn’t think it was such a great idea. We were doing new stuff, kind of alternative stuff, trying something, and it was deader than McKinley’s prick, let me say that. But it was just different.
The alternative guys, the ones that were just comin’ in, they were playing anti-music. They thought we were the heroes of all time. Because we were half in tune. It wasn’t our best night, I’ll admit that.
That night was something else. I had friends out there and they were laughin’. We finally got up and kicked some ass. But we started off sitting down.
That night too, the Grape were late comin’ in from Boston. I was there on time, way on time, like I always was. They came in a little bit late. Bill Graham was not pleased about that. He didn’t like that at all.
We finally got out there on time but on time isn’t good enough. Bill wanted you there early. They came in right at the last minute and you can’t blame them too much because they drove through a snowstorm. We were comin’ down from Augusta, Maine and then it was a blizzard when we got to Boston.
Skippy and the boys were in a different car and Skippy came flyin’ by us at about eighty in the ice and snow. He was drivin’. I was glad I wasn’t in that car. But somehow, they probably stopped for dinner or something. I was sittin’ there and Bill was saying, “Where are they?”
He says, “I’m gonna sue you sons of bitches.” “OK,” I said, “but Bill, goldang it, I’m here.” He says, “Yeah, Jerry, I know it’s not your goddamn fault.” I say, “Yeah, it’s my fault for sometimes puttin’ up with this monkey business.”
And then, when we went on stage and sat down, he ‘bout had a shit fit. Mosley was havin’ an attitude. Mosley, sometimes he’d get an attitude. And he’d start playin’ in a different key than we were. And you know, this sounds a little bit sour. He had a pretty good set of ears on him. I said, “What the hell is that?”
Bill liked me but he hated the Grape. He thought that was the biggest batch of adult delinquents he had ever seen. It was just not our best night. Matter of fact, it was probably our worst night.
Don Stevenson: We played up at the Whisky a Go Go one night. Some guy was giving Mosley trouble. He turned around and bashed him in the head with his bass. Mosley was tough — he was not a hippie. He is a tough guy.
We got kicked off a tour with the Mamas and Papas and the Buckinghams. We were behaving like we were rock and roll guys [laughs]. The Buckinghams were on stage and, you know, Johnny “Guitar” Watson did that song “Mercy Mercy Mercy”? Their big hit?
So I hated those guys. Not because they were bad people but just because Johnny “Guitar” Watson’s version was so funky and these guys were gettin’ the big hit out of it. So we were back in the proscenium and we all dropped our pants and bare-assed them when they were on stage.
So that was one strike. We got kicked off of that tour, along with some bad behavior at hotels. We would come on before the Mamas and the Papas and we would play “Omaha” as our last song and if you can imagine, if you’ve listened to any of the live stuff we did, when we did “Omaha” — and then they come out and go “Monday Monday.” It just didn’t seem right to them.
“Omaha,” I know we worked it out over at Skippy’s house, it had a huge impact on audiences. It was a great closing number.
“Naked If I Want To.” That was under a minute. What went into writing that?
Jerry Miller: Oh, I think a little bit of a visit from Stanley Owsley. It was kind of a psychedelic idea.
You then did a rock version of “Naked” on the second album. Why mess with something that perfect?
Don Stevenson: We were thinking of doing it on every album. Like a cha-cha, then do it as a waltz.
Let’s talk about the recording of that first album. You had performed those songs live well ahead of the recording session?
Jerry Miller: Absolutely. We’d played them for about five months. We knew that studio time was expensive and we knew it would be taken out of our royalties, which we never got anyway. Me and Don, from up in the Northwest, didn’t know shit about publishing. So we signed away, signed away. We just wanted to play, you know?
Don Stevenson: It’s nice to be prepared when you walk into a studio. So we knocked that thing out in 10 days.
Don, you flashed the middle finger on the album’s cover. Why?
Don Stevenson: I just wasn’t in the mood to do a photo shoot. For some reason, Jim Marshall — he was a really famous photographer — just didn’t appeal to me. So on every single picture he took, I gave the finger. We drove all over to all kinds of different locations to find the right spot but on every single one I gave the finger. I was sabotaging the project.
What was Columbia Records’ reaction?
Don Stevenson: At first they thought it was a really great idea. Just a sense of the times, a sentiment that was certainly going around. But then they got a tremendous amount of pushback from, you know, Indiana [laughs] or wherever it was, the Bible Belt. When it started to interfere with record sales, they decided to airbrush out my finger. To this day it still hurts [laughs].
What is the secret of the first album’s longevity? Why does it still sound fresh so many years later?
Don Stevenson: I’d say because each of the guys in the band wrote music. And if you listen to the songs, they’re not the same. It’s not like Gary Puckett and the Union Gap; it’s not like, “Oh, that’s who that is.” We didn’t try to have a sound; the Byrds had a sound. They are such different compositions that you couldn’t figure out if we were country-western, rhythm & blues or funky folk.
Jerry Miller: That first album’s just a beautiful piece of work. All the songs go together. It’s not as radical as the second, where we used a lot of cheap tricks and orchestras and stuff. The first one was and still is one hell of a package. I can play it, then start it over again and play it again.
This interview includes an excerpt from Frank Mastropolo’s book Fillmore East: The Venue That Changed Rock Music Forever. He is also the author of the 200 Greatest Rock Songs series. For more on our latest projects, visit Edgar Street Books.
