As an overture to West, Bruce & Laing's sold out midnight concert at Radio City Music Hall, Colombia Records threw a party for the group in the Rainbow Room, 65 stories high in the NBC building.
"Oh, I made a big mistake," concert producer Ron Delsener kept repeating. "Did you see that line out there? I should have booked them somewhere else. I think when I suggested them to the Music Hall they thought because of the name that they wee getting something like, you know, Crosby, Stills and Nash. They weren't expecing the crowd they got out there now. These kids could really wreck the place."
Meanwhile, there were the kids at the party: Todd Rundgren, Johnny Nash, a couple of members of The Band, and Steve Paul, accompanied by Rick Derringer. Steve, of The Scene and of scenes, stood at the top of the carpeted stairway and proclaimed: "I can always tell where my boys are. There's Johnny [Winter], and there's Edgar [Winter]. And there's another one. Oh no, that's Bud Praeger."
Praeger, who started Windfall Records with Felix Pappalardi back in the days of Mountain, is more Wayne Cochran than white trash. We asked if we might ask his group a few questions about their formation - say, about the departure of Felix Pappalardi.
"Well, no," he said, friendly enough. "I don't think Leslie would want to talk about Felix any more than Jack would want to talk about Eric. This is not going to be the kind of band that gets interviewed. Their music speaks for itself."
Lesloe West is a hard little whale to cover. He keeps making passes by the pastry table for refills, with no end in sight. Finally he slows down enough to engage, with his woman friend, in a game of mock interviews. A man is scouting around with a mike in his hand; when he points it at us, we look at West: "The lat time we saw you was in Bostom," we pretended to say. "You were a little out of sortsthat night with a cold. Feel better tonight?"
"No," he answered, "I got another cold."
"Were you surprised when the tickets sold out in three hours?"
"No. Talent always will."
Jack Bruce, making his entrance to the party, stood at the top of the stairs leading to the dance floor and yelled at the top of his lungs to the gathering, "Get Fucked!"
An hour before the concert we slumped at a table with a man who's been around the scene for a lo ng time, who at least was willing to try to put this whole evening into perspective.
"Oh it's just awful, can you believe this? Did you see what's standing in that line? Animals. I really hate them. They've ruined the world. Rock used to be an elitist art form, and look what it's come to..."
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