Biography
In the middle of the 1980s the Chocolate Watchband found themselves caught inside an unusual contradiction, one that proved tolerable enough for a group no longer functioning. Nearly fifteen years had passed without a single performance, yet original pressings of their albums fetched one hundred dollars or higher on the collector market. Bootleg vinyl editions first emerged from France, followed by authorized Australian reissues that circulated globally and moved in steadily rising quantities whenever fresh listeners encountered the material. At the same time, contemporary groups began replicating the Watchband’s approach inside small venues ranging from New York’s Chelsea district to spots as distant as the District of Columbia; the players were teenagers who had never witnessed the original lineup and whose locations lay thirty-five hundred miles east of the California towns where the band had once performed most of its shows two decades earlier. The contradiction—complete absence alongside an expanding international following—arose simply because the Chocolate Watchband ranked as the finest garage band of the 1960s to sustain an actual recording career.
Their output marked them as an exceptional case: on record they operated as a world-class garage-punk unit that anticipated the Ramones by ten years, maintained greater consistency than the Litter, and displayed more originality and breadth than the Shadows of Knight. Most American acts of the era either veered toward folk-rock before drifting into diffuse psychedelia or resorted to gimmicks and image simplification in the manner of Paul Revere & the Raiders. The Watchband preserved a striking focus, openly indebted to the Rolling Stones yet continually extending their own intensity and, when the moment arrived, matching the Stones in psychedelic exploration. They operated, in essence, as the Stones animated by the more reckless and inventive spirit of the Pretty Things. Under different circumstances their drive and purpose—embodied by lead singer David Aguilar, whose strongest sides could still move audiences four decades later—might have positioned them as America’s Rolling Stones. They possessed the sonic resources, demonstrated by a buzzsaw-textured reading of a well-known Bob Dylan composition and a version of Ray Davies’ “I’m Not Like Everybody Else” that rivaled the Kinks, yet favorable breaks never materialized. Internal tensions combined with managers and producers pursuing separate goals quickly derailed the band after its first recordings. Consequently the Watchband never secured concert audiences beyond California for thirty years, never placed a single on national charts, and elicited little recognition from casual listeners of 1960s rock—many of whom recalled the Standells, the group’s AVI labelmates who actually charted several singles despite being musically inferior.
The Chocolate Watchband originated at Foothill College in Los Altos Hills, California, during 1965. Guitarists Mark Loomis and Ned Torney, both formerly of the Chapparals, joined an emerging ensemble that soon incorporated Danny Phay on vocals, Rich Young on bass, Jo Kemling on organ, and Peter Curry on drums; Curry was soon replaced by Gary Andrijasevich. This initial configuration surfaced amid the peak of the British Invasion and built a strong local following through a lean, aggressive sound rooted in British R&B and pop-rock. No official commercial sides appeared at the time, although two demo recordings later issued in the 1990s document a capable unit whose lead guitar work stood out and whose overall style, while not yet fierce, showed clear promise. That promise went unrealized when Torney and Phay accepted an offer from the Otherside, a rival formed from the earlier Topsiders, and departed; Kemling followed. Loomis briefly joined the busy surf outfit the Shandells but sought an older audience than the preteens who attended those shows. He also saw no reason the Chocolate Watchband name should be abandoned, since the departing members had made no effort to retain it. He reassembled Andrijasevich, added ex-Topsider guitarist Sean Tolby—who had likewise been left without a group—and recruited Bill Flores, the Shandells’ bassist. A replacement singer still had to be located, and at that juncture Loomis encountered David Aguilar, nominally a biology major at San Jose State University. Aguilar sang with punk authority, projected a stage presence comparable to Mick Jagger, possessed strong musical judgment, and could compose.
The Chocolate Watchband therefore re-formed in spring 1966 as a noticeably stronger and more commanding ensemble. The members rehearsed a full stage act in Loomis’ garage before performing publicly. Once underway they delivered the most potent white R&B-based rock available on the West Coast outside London, their live presentation rivaling the Rolling Stones in excitement and enhanced by the Brian Jones resemblance of rhythm guitarist Sean Tolby. Their exclusive use of Vox instruments further amplified their visual and sonic impact within the Bay Area. A manager secured them a contract with Green Grass Productions, the company co-founded by former Four Preps vocalist Ed Cobb, which maintained a deal with Capitol through its Tower subsidiary. Early gigs alongside Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother & the Holding Company suggested comparable prospects. An initial single, however, proved a false start: “Blues Theme,” an instrumental composed by Mike Curb and first recorded by Davie Allan & the Arrows for the film The Wild Angels, received radio exposure yet lacked an official single release until Cobb rushed out the Watchband’s version. Credited to the Hogs because of the motorcycle theme and the inclusion of Harley-Davidson sound effects, the record appeared on the children’s-oriented Hanna-Barbera label. Its B-side, the satirical “Loose Lip Sync Ship” credited to Aguilar and Loomis, added another layer of oddity; the single failed to chart but remained a respectable debut.
By autumn 1966 the band was drawing larger crowds and higher fees locally. That summer the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles had experienced an influx of long-haired teenagers and young adults, prompting police and sheriff’s deputies to enforce stricter nighttime controls. Tensions escalated through the fall, culminating in a clash at Pandora’s Box that produced injuries, property damage, and the eventual demolition of the club. The episode inspired Stephen Stills’ “For What It’s Worth,” a hit for Buffalo Springfield, and prompted American International Pictures to produce the exploitation film Riot on Sunset Strip. The Standells contributed the title song; the Chocolate Watchband supplied “Don’t Need Your Lovin’” and “Sitting There Standing” and appeared on screen in what later became a cult favorite. A second single, “Sweet Young Thing” backed with “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” followed in December 1966 on Tower’s Uptown imprint. Written by Ed Cobb, the A-side matched the salacious tone of the Rolling Stones or Them and incorporated a half-quotation of the sitar riff from “Paint It Black,” while Aguilar compressed the intensity of the Stones’ “Goin’ Home” into roughly three minutes. The B-side reworked Bob Dylan’s composition using Them’s arrangement as a starting point yet increased the volume and supplied Aguilar with an expansive vocal platform.
February 1967 brought “Misty Lane” backed with “She Weaves a Tender Trap,” the former more melodic than prior efforts and perhaps closer to the direction Loomis favored. The Cobb-penned B-side adopted a softer pop-ballad style with overdubbed reeds and horns, acoustic instruments, and a comparatively restrained vocal from Aguilar; attractive in its own right, it diverged from the band’s core identity. Radio play continued locally even so. Additional tracks recorded for Riot on Sunset Strip appeared on the soundtrack album, after which a fourth single, “No Way Out” backed with “Are You Gonna Be There (At the Love-In),” emerged in June 1967. The latter song later featured in the film The Love-Ins, though the band’s intended larger role was largely excised. “No Way Out,” also credited to Cobb, delivered full psychedelic textures with a powerful opening from Flores and Andrijasevich, Loomis’ jagged blues-inflected lead, Tolby’s chiming and crunching rhythm work, and Aguilar’s spaced-out delivery; tape effects and distortion at the close were applied judiciously.
Work on the debut album No Way Out commenced around the Summer of Love; the LP appeared in September 1967. To the members’ surprise, only “Come On” and “Gone and Passes By” survived intact. Don Bennett, co-writer of “Are You Gonna Be There (At the Love-In),” supplied vocals on nearly half the tracks, while two selections originated with an unrelated studio group assembled by engineers Richard Podolor and Bill Cooper. Loomis, whose preferences leaned toward more lyrical material, departed for the folk-rock outfit Tingle Guild, taking Andrijasevich with him. Aguilar soon followed, leaving Flores and Tolby as the only remaining original participants.
Flores and Tolby assembled a temporary lineup—Tim Abbott on guitar, Mark Whittaker on drums, and Chris Flinders on vocals—to honor upcoming dates; the performances maintained the band’s reputation. Flinders and Abbott exited before year’s end, reducing the group once more. Aguilar returned briefly, yet by December 1967 the Chocolate Watchband, in any configuration tied to its origins, had effectively ceased. Management and the label nevertheless continued to use the name. Podolor assembled studio musicians, reinstated Bennett, incorporated outtakes and two completed band tracks, and produced The Inner Mystique, released in February 1968. Its collage cover and psychedelic excursions arrived slightly after the style’s peak, yet the album mixed several approaches. Pure psychedelia appeared mainly through Podolor’s additions—“Voyage of the Trieste” and the ornate reading of “In the Past,” originally by We the People—while the genuine Watchband was represented by a remixed “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” a strong cover of Annette Tucker and Nancie Mantz’s “I Ain’t No Miracle Worker,” and Aguilar’s definitive version of “I’m Not Like Everybody Else.”
Although neither No Way Out nor The Inner Mystique fully captured the group’s live or single sound, both stood as strong examples of psychedelic garage punk. Tolby later noted that the albums leaned more psychedelic than the band’s stage or 45-rpm work. Cobb and Podolor sought a particular studio atmosphere the members, even when intact, did not always supply; Cobb recalled in an early-1980s interview that the musicians required “the box”—an assortment of popular controlled substances—before productive sessions could occur. Band members never confirmed that account, and the tightness of their live performances makes excessive indulgence unlikely. The first two albums sold modestly, but Green Grass and Tower proceeded with a third project. Tolby, who had assumed lead guitar duties, recruited Flores into a reconstituted lineup that also included Loomis, Andrijasevich, and original vocalist Danny Phay. The resulting One Step Beyond, issued later, was generally more relaxed than earlier releases, reflecting the folk-rock leanings of Loomis, Andrijasevich, and Phay. Most tracks were originals; Jerry Miller of Moby Grape contributed to “Devil’s Motorcycle.” After Loomis withdrew for health reasons and Phil Scoma of the Hydraulic Banana took his place, the group continued performing into early 1970.
The story might have concluded there had the recordings not proven too distinctive to fade. During the 1970s the Watchband remained largely forgotten except among viewers of Riot on Sunset Strip. By the early 1980s renewed interest in psychedelic punk and 1960s garage rock, spurred by Nuggets and similar anthologies, drove original LPs past one hundred dollars apiece. Demand prompted reissues, beginning with unauthorized editions from France’s Eva label and followed by licensed Australian pressings. The Inner Mystique sold particularly well across four continents. Aguilar had moved into university teaching in the sciences; other members were dispersed. Newer acts such as the Tryfles drew directly from the Watchband’s catalog. CD reissues, including a Rhino best-of and expanded Sundazed and Big Beat editions, sustained the momentum. One New York bookstall worker even claimed membership to receptive listeners.
Mid-1990s discussions of a reunion did not produce results until 1999, by which time Sean Tolby had died. Aguilar, Abbott substituting for Loomis, Flores, and Andrijasevich regrouped, with Michael Reese assuming Tolby’s role. Their first performances occurred in spring 1999 and culminated that November at Cavestomp in New York, documented on the 2001 live album At the Love-In Live!. Between the concert and the CD’s release the band issued its first entirely self-generated studio album. The live recording showcased the core repertoire at a high level and earned the Watchband its initial New York Times coverage, thirty years after their last regular appearances. As of 2005 they continued performing in Europe, finally receiving the international attention that had eluded them in 1967. They also returned to the studio, with Aguilar and Abbott leading the sessions for I’m Not Like Everybody Else, a collection of new recordings of signature material.
Their output marked them as an exceptional case: on record they operated as a world-class garage-punk unit that anticipated the Ramones by ten years, maintained greater consistency than the Litter, and displayed more originality and breadth than the Shadows of Knight. Most American acts of the era either veered toward folk-rock before drifting into diffuse psychedelia or resorted to gimmicks and image simplification in the manner of Paul Revere & the Raiders. The Watchband preserved a striking focus, openly indebted to the Rolling Stones yet continually extending their own intensity and, when the moment arrived, matching the Stones in psychedelic exploration. They operated, in essence, as the Stones animated by the more reckless and inventive spirit of the Pretty Things. Under different circumstances their drive and purpose—embodied by lead singer David Aguilar, whose strongest sides could still move audiences four decades later—might have positioned them as America’s Rolling Stones. They possessed the sonic resources, demonstrated by a buzzsaw-textured reading of a well-known Bob Dylan composition and a version of Ray Davies’ “I’m Not Like Everybody Else” that rivaled the Kinks, yet favorable breaks never materialized. Internal tensions combined with managers and producers pursuing separate goals quickly derailed the band after its first recordings. Consequently the Watchband never secured concert audiences beyond California for thirty years, never placed a single on national charts, and elicited little recognition from casual listeners of 1960s rock—many of whom recalled the Standells, the group’s AVI labelmates who actually charted several singles despite being musically inferior.
The Chocolate Watchband originated at Foothill College in Los Altos Hills, California, during 1965. Guitarists Mark Loomis and Ned Torney, both formerly of the Chapparals, joined an emerging ensemble that soon incorporated Danny Phay on vocals, Rich Young on bass, Jo Kemling on organ, and Peter Curry on drums; Curry was soon replaced by Gary Andrijasevich. This initial configuration surfaced amid the peak of the British Invasion and built a strong local following through a lean, aggressive sound rooted in British R&B and pop-rock. No official commercial sides appeared at the time, although two demo recordings later issued in the 1990s document a capable unit whose lead guitar work stood out and whose overall style, while not yet fierce, showed clear promise. That promise went unrealized when Torney and Phay accepted an offer from the Otherside, a rival formed from the earlier Topsiders, and departed; Kemling followed. Loomis briefly joined the busy surf outfit the Shandells but sought an older audience than the preteens who attended those shows. He also saw no reason the Chocolate Watchband name should be abandoned, since the departing members had made no effort to retain it. He reassembled Andrijasevich, added ex-Topsider guitarist Sean Tolby—who had likewise been left without a group—and recruited Bill Flores, the Shandells’ bassist. A replacement singer still had to be located, and at that juncture Loomis encountered David Aguilar, nominally a biology major at San Jose State University. Aguilar sang with punk authority, projected a stage presence comparable to Mick Jagger, possessed strong musical judgment, and could compose.
The Chocolate Watchband therefore re-formed in spring 1966 as a noticeably stronger and more commanding ensemble. The members rehearsed a full stage act in Loomis’ garage before performing publicly. Once underway they delivered the most potent white R&B-based rock available on the West Coast outside London, their live presentation rivaling the Rolling Stones in excitement and enhanced by the Brian Jones resemblance of rhythm guitarist Sean Tolby. Their exclusive use of Vox instruments further amplified their visual and sonic impact within the Bay Area. A manager secured them a contract with Green Grass Productions, the company co-founded by former Four Preps vocalist Ed Cobb, which maintained a deal with Capitol through its Tower subsidiary. Early gigs alongside Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother & the Holding Company suggested comparable prospects. An initial single, however, proved a false start: “Blues Theme,” an instrumental composed by Mike Curb and first recorded by Davie Allan & the Arrows for the film The Wild Angels, received radio exposure yet lacked an official single release until Cobb rushed out the Watchband’s version. Credited to the Hogs because of the motorcycle theme and the inclusion of Harley-Davidson sound effects, the record appeared on the children’s-oriented Hanna-Barbera label. Its B-side, the satirical “Loose Lip Sync Ship” credited to Aguilar and Loomis, added another layer of oddity; the single failed to chart but remained a respectable debut.
By autumn 1966 the band was drawing larger crowds and higher fees locally. That summer the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles had experienced an influx of long-haired teenagers and young adults, prompting police and sheriff’s deputies to enforce stricter nighttime controls. Tensions escalated through the fall, culminating in a clash at Pandora’s Box that produced injuries, property damage, and the eventual demolition of the club. The episode inspired Stephen Stills’ “For What It’s Worth,” a hit for Buffalo Springfield, and prompted American International Pictures to produce the exploitation film Riot on Sunset Strip. The Standells contributed the title song; the Chocolate Watchband supplied “Don’t Need Your Lovin’” and “Sitting There Standing” and appeared on screen in what later became a cult favorite. A second single, “Sweet Young Thing” backed with “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” followed in December 1966 on Tower’s Uptown imprint. Written by Ed Cobb, the A-side matched the salacious tone of the Rolling Stones or Them and incorporated a half-quotation of the sitar riff from “Paint It Black,” while Aguilar compressed the intensity of the Stones’ “Goin’ Home” into roughly three minutes. The B-side reworked Bob Dylan’s composition using Them’s arrangement as a starting point yet increased the volume and supplied Aguilar with an expansive vocal platform.
February 1967 brought “Misty Lane” backed with “She Weaves a Tender Trap,” the former more melodic than prior efforts and perhaps closer to the direction Loomis favored. The Cobb-penned B-side adopted a softer pop-ballad style with overdubbed reeds and horns, acoustic instruments, and a comparatively restrained vocal from Aguilar; attractive in its own right, it diverged from the band’s core identity. Radio play continued locally even so. Additional tracks recorded for Riot on Sunset Strip appeared on the soundtrack album, after which a fourth single, “No Way Out” backed with “Are You Gonna Be There (At the Love-In),” emerged in June 1967. The latter song later featured in the film The Love-Ins, though the band’s intended larger role was largely excised. “No Way Out,” also credited to Cobb, delivered full psychedelic textures with a powerful opening from Flores and Andrijasevich, Loomis’ jagged blues-inflected lead, Tolby’s chiming and crunching rhythm work, and Aguilar’s spaced-out delivery; tape effects and distortion at the close were applied judiciously.
Work on the debut album No Way Out commenced around the Summer of Love; the LP appeared in September 1967. To the members’ surprise, only “Come On” and “Gone and Passes By” survived intact. Don Bennett, co-writer of “Are You Gonna Be There (At the Love-In),” supplied vocals on nearly half the tracks, while two selections originated with an unrelated studio group assembled by engineers Richard Podolor and Bill Cooper. Loomis, whose preferences leaned toward more lyrical material, departed for the folk-rock outfit Tingle Guild, taking Andrijasevich with him. Aguilar soon followed, leaving Flores and Tolby as the only remaining original participants.
Flores and Tolby assembled a temporary lineup—Tim Abbott on guitar, Mark Whittaker on drums, and Chris Flinders on vocals—to honor upcoming dates; the performances maintained the band’s reputation. Flinders and Abbott exited before year’s end, reducing the group once more. Aguilar returned briefly, yet by December 1967 the Chocolate Watchband, in any configuration tied to its origins, had effectively ceased. Management and the label nevertheless continued to use the name. Podolor assembled studio musicians, reinstated Bennett, incorporated outtakes and two completed band tracks, and produced The Inner Mystique, released in February 1968. Its collage cover and psychedelic excursions arrived slightly after the style’s peak, yet the album mixed several approaches. Pure psychedelia appeared mainly through Podolor’s additions—“Voyage of the Trieste” and the ornate reading of “In the Past,” originally by We the People—while the genuine Watchband was represented by a remixed “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” a strong cover of Annette Tucker and Nancie Mantz’s “I Ain’t No Miracle Worker,” and Aguilar’s definitive version of “I’m Not Like Everybody Else.”
Although neither No Way Out nor The Inner Mystique fully captured the group’s live or single sound, both stood as strong examples of psychedelic garage punk. Tolby later noted that the albums leaned more psychedelic than the band’s stage or 45-rpm work. Cobb and Podolor sought a particular studio atmosphere the members, even when intact, did not always supply; Cobb recalled in an early-1980s interview that the musicians required “the box”—an assortment of popular controlled substances—before productive sessions could occur. Band members never confirmed that account, and the tightness of their live performances makes excessive indulgence unlikely. The first two albums sold modestly, but Green Grass and Tower proceeded with a third project. Tolby, who had assumed lead guitar duties, recruited Flores into a reconstituted lineup that also included Loomis, Andrijasevich, and original vocalist Danny Phay. The resulting One Step Beyond, issued later, was generally more relaxed than earlier releases, reflecting the folk-rock leanings of Loomis, Andrijasevich, and Phay. Most tracks were originals; Jerry Miller of Moby Grape contributed to “Devil’s Motorcycle.” After Loomis withdrew for health reasons and Phil Scoma of the Hydraulic Banana took his place, the group continued performing into early 1970.
The story might have concluded there had the recordings not proven too distinctive to fade. During the 1970s the Watchband remained largely forgotten except among viewers of Riot on Sunset Strip. By the early 1980s renewed interest in psychedelic punk and 1960s garage rock, spurred by Nuggets and similar anthologies, drove original LPs past one hundred dollars apiece. Demand prompted reissues, beginning with unauthorized editions from France’s Eva label and followed by licensed Australian pressings. The Inner Mystique sold particularly well across four continents. Aguilar had moved into university teaching in the sciences; other members were dispersed. Newer acts such as the Tryfles drew directly from the Watchband’s catalog. CD reissues, including a Rhino best-of and expanded Sundazed and Big Beat editions, sustained the momentum. One New York bookstall worker even claimed membership to receptive listeners.
Mid-1990s discussions of a reunion did not produce results until 1999, by which time Sean Tolby had died. Aguilar, Abbott substituting for Loomis, Flores, and Andrijasevich regrouped, with Michael Reese assuming Tolby’s role. Their first performances occurred in spring 1999 and culminated that November at Cavestomp in New York, documented on the 2001 live album At the Love-In Live!. Between the concert and the CD’s release the band issued its first entirely self-generated studio album. The live recording showcased the core repertoire at a high level and earned the Watchband its initial New York Times coverage, thirty years after their last regular appearances. As of 2005 they continued performing in Europe, finally receiving the international attention that had eluded them in 1967. They also returned to the studio, with Aguilar and Abbott leading the sessions for I’m Not Like Everybody Else, a collection of new recordings of signature material.
Albums
