Rock 'n' roll never forgets, Pt. 10 -- Peter Frampton

There was a time when there was nobody on the planet hotter than Peter Frampton.

There was also a time when there was nobody on the planet colder than Peter Frampton.

Frampton isn't one of those one-hit wonders who fades into rock 'n' roll obscurity after crashing the Top 10 for a short time.

He is arguably one of the most underrated guitar players of his time and well respected by his fellow musicians, even though he has had some pretty deep dips personally and professionally.

He was a child prodigy of former Rolling Stone Bill Wyman; a member of The Herd, a very popular English group, when he was 16; he was a member of the hard-rocking, blues-based, gritty outfit called Humble Pie in the late '60s. He was still in his teens.

So, before he turned 20, he had done a lot of recording and touring and had built up enough of a reputation that he was asked to play on George Harrison's debut solo album, "All Things Must Pass," along with Dave Mason and Eric Clapton -- pretty heady stuff for a 20-year-old.

Frampton found a new muse and decided it was time to move on to pursue a solo career. He recorded "Wind of Change," "Frampton's Camel," and "Somethin's Happening." He toured tirelessly. His commercial success was minimal.

He had, however, the blessing of the rock 'n' roll press.
Critics raved about his solo work. The discussion was always: "This kid is fantastic...too bad he can't get a break."

In 1976, he caught that break with the release of "Frampton Comes Alive," which would go on to become the largest-selling live album of all time.

And, those same rock critics who had been touting him as "the next big thing" suddenly turned at him like a pack of snarling, hungry wolves.

They said he'd sold out, become "too commercial," become a teen idol, lost his cred somehow.

What had changed?

Nothing.

But, the rock 'n' roll press can be pretty fickle at times and turn on its own.

Nevermind that Frampton was one of the hardest-working guitarslingers in the business, had toured slavishly to build his career and had done some incredible work along the way. Critics always seem to favor the underdog. They love that "starving artist who never gets a break but has huge talent" angle. Once they break through, however, they are just as apt to turn on them, which is what they did to Frampton.

You could say there were some bad business decisions made by his management along the way, but you can never diminish his guitar and vocal skills.

The first time I saw him was when he headlined a pretty good show at Anaheim Stadium. Foghat, the J Geils Band and a few other bands were on the bill, but it was clearly Frampton's crowd.

There was pandemonium. The stadium was sold out -- seats and the field. The warm-up acts were really not given much of a listen. The crowd didn't come alive, if you will, until evening broke and Frampton took the stage.

He was vibrant, energetic, earnest and obviously having a great time entertaining the huge crowd that, I swear, set the upper deck of the stadium rocking at times as his fans danced to the music.

There were a couple of mis-steps along the way that opened Frampton up for some criticism on a different level. He starred in the Robert Stigwood film, "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," had a disasterous turn when he joined Olivia Newton-John as co-host on a music awards show, posed shirtless for the cover of "Rolling Stone," which he says knocked him down from "serious musician" to "teen idol" status, and did a guest shot on his favorite TV show, "Baa, Baa Black Sheep," which didn't endear him to musical purists.


But, the music never changed, he never lost his chops, just his popularity -- so much so that his follow-up album was fairly shredded by the critics, but sold more than 1 million copies.

I met Frampton while he was shooting the guest spot for "Baa, Baa Black Sheep." The shoot was on the outskirts of Los Angeles, not far from the Magic Mountain amusement park. It was a rainy, drizzly day so we had plenty of time to chat.

He was starting to feel some of the push-back of his success and although not bitter, could not understand why suddenly the people who had wished him well were suddenly slipping daggers into his back.

It bothered him. It also bothered him that most of the media-types who had come to talk to him about his spot on the TV show were clueless about music and his career when it came time for the interview.

I remember him remarking that it was good to do an interview with somebody who actually knew something about him.

"We could sit here and talk music all day," he said. "Some of those others...We can talk about songs, guitars, concerts."

And, we did sit and talk a lot about songs, guitars, and concerts.

He wasn't bitter about breaking away from Humble Pie, at least he didn't burn any bridges there. He just had some different music inside of him, his music, not covers of old blues or r&b songs. We talked about guitars -- particularly his custom Gibson Les Paul with the meaty triple humbucker setup. And we talked about concerts and what it was like to stand on stage in front of a stadium filled with adoring fans.

He knew his music, of course, and we shared some pretty common influences from Eddie Cochran to The Beatles. Even so, he also did not dwell on the older bands and older music, instead, talking about the sounds in his head that he wanted to share.

I was struck by how focused he was. Successful musicians are a lot like successful athletes. They are focused, often to the point of withdrawing from the world pretty deeply to concentrate on their craft.

They spend hours alone with their guitars or drums or keyboards or whatever instrument they play, learning how to coax it into an extension of their souls. They spend hours in rehearsal with their bands, perfecting songs, working for hours on nuances so the live presentation is something more than simply replaying the song note-for-note as released on the album. Yes, there is a lot of improvisation during a concert, but before you can go off into the zone, you need to have the basics of the song in the pocket first. You need to know the song inside out before you can add the emotion of the moment into your playing. I think you'd call it artistry, an attempt at breaking the "fourth wall," if you will, and reaching out to the audience, however large or small, and sharing exaclty how you feel at exactly that moment in time.

It didn't take long for me to realize that Frampton was, at heart, a musician's musician, a guy who would dissect a song to its most basic elements, scrutinize it, then put it back together in his own fashion -- much like he does with a song like "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" or "Black Hole Sun," which have become audience favorites.

We also talked about the rock 'n' roll lifestyle and how hard drugs had taken such a toll on so many performers. A number of Frampton's peers were drying out from alcohol and/or cocaine addiction at the time and he was concerned.

"We weren't no goodie-two-shoes in Humble Pie," said Frampton, who would later have his own bout with addiction. "I remember stepping over hippies at The Fillmore."

But, there was a lot of coke going around the music business at that time; a lot of coke, causing some serious problems for some pretty big stars.

And, he got a little more flak for his frank talk. I felt bad, but what he said was fairly important. As a role model for so many, his advice about using caution when experimenting with drugs was newsworthy, I thought, and I included it in the story.

It was a pretty decent piece about a very nice, friendly, gentlemanly guy with a world of talent. I also remember driving back to my office at the L.A. Herald-Examiner thinking, "This poor guy is screwed." He was too nice, too honest, too sincere, too sensitive, which made him too vulnerable.

What followed was a painful high-profile breakup with a girlfriend, a near-fatal traffic accident and a trashing of his career by the critics -- a couple of years of being kicked around pretty roughly.

I saw him one night backstage at a J Geils Band concert at The Forum in Los Angeles. He was not the same. He was subdued, withdrawn, standing alone against a wall in a hallway just off the stage. We chatted very briefly.

He went into another down period in his career, which wasn't revived until his old school chum David Bowie hired him to record his "Never Let Me Down" album and play on his subsequent tour. The album and tour weren't hugely successful, but Frampton was playing again. He toured with Wyman's Rhythm Kings and as part of the Ringo Starr touring band. Eventually, it came full cycle and his past came back to inspire him to get together with his ex-Humble Pie bandmate Steve Marriott for a few shows and some studio work.

Nobody is sure if the two had words or if it was just some quirk of fate, but Marriott reportedly left the recording sessions abruptly for a trip to England. Within 24 hours, he died in a house fire. Frampton was devastated and hung it up again until he got back in touch with a couple of his old bandmates from the "Frampton Comes Alive" days.

He's been back on the road ever since, playing the old songs and reinterpreting the new.

And, he is now celebrating the 35th anniversary of the release of that epochal album, which proved to be not only a blessing, but a curse.

I wish him well as he continues to explore new musical ground.