Bobby And I

 

Afternoon Sky

Bobby And I

Producer: Tommy Oliver

Basic and Vocal Arrangements by Ken Fishler

Orchestra Arranged and Conducted by Tommy Oliver

Engineers: Dino Lappas, Bruce Ellison, Ami Hadani and Angel

Art Direction: Woody Woodward

Design: Gabor Halmos

Cover Photography: Ivan Nagy

Back Cover Photography: Bob Smith

IR Imperial LP-12420

A Product of Liberty Records

1968

Piano and Harpsichord - Ken Fishler

Bass - Rod Ellicott

Drums - Jim Gordon

Guitar - Dave Cohen

From the back cover: Bobby sits at an over-crowded table with new friends – people who use happened to wander in to escape the fog with a quick drink, and now sit waiting for the third show with their fourth round on the table. She looks through the room. A full house. Ten weeks ago, when Bobby and I started their engagement, the Chez Chou-Chou club was off everybody's list. Now, without advertising gimmicks, without "Ladies'-drinks-half-price-tonite." nights, a full house. Some familiar faces, but mostly new ones. Mostly strangers who took a night out to drive to North Beach because a friend went on and on about singing group called Bobby And I.

The club is warm with clanking ice cubes and mumbled chatter. The crumpled tables and crushed velvet booths are filled with people who, in a few moments, will be friends. For Bobby And I, the Chez Chou-Chou on Upper Grant Street, San Francisco, is the place where it began – their first engagement. It's a rather obscure club, far from the tour bus route. It's nestled between the last icing replica of Bohemian coffee houses, called "Coffee Confusion," a couple of small, odd shops, and a quaint Arabian restaurant, who's name can never be remembered. The club is inglorious, to be sure, but charming. And most important... it's where the magic began.

Jan: "...after he finished Cal, Ken played in a few groups, but he could never seem to find the right combination. He kept looking. Then he met Bobby...

Ken, backstage moments before the show, chats with Rod Ellicott, the bass player who does most of his talking with his Fender. Bobby comes backstage (backstage is the kitchen, and the kitchen is the dressing room) with last-minute request from the regulars. It's time. Ken with confidence, but never arrogance; Bobby a little nervous, but never enough to wear off the polish.

Jan: "...by chance, through a friend of a friend, she auditioned for Ken. He played. She sang. They sang. From the first song, they knew this was it. Bobby went back to COP in Stockton, packed her bags and quit college..."

The stage is simple. Drums. Mr. Ellicott with his bas in the back. Ken's piano in the shape of Liberace's swimming pool. And bobby on her stool with her microphone and her uncontrollable smile – the same one you smiled on your tenth birthday. A spotlight breaks the darkness. She look at Ken, he nods, and gives her his young-old smile.

It's a simple show, Bobby And I would never follow a stand-up comic or a duo of jugglers who toss flaming sword across the stage. They have too much finesse. The arrangements are simple, but there's a unique singer-singer magnetism that makes ever song dance its way off the stage and onto your table top. They sing originals, standard, show tunes, pop – and they really make a small club in North Beach happen.

Jan: "...people would come into the club on recommendations of friends, and that's a tremendous feeling. Bobby and Ken became well-known in San Francisco simply by word of mouth. Toward the end of their engagement, the Chez Chou-Chou was packed every night..."

They've gone through three songs, and the audience has long since stopped clanking its ice cubes. Tonight, as it has been lately, the Chez Chou-Chou is a meeting ground of diverse types, differencing people who seem to have found a common denominator.

Jan: "...I hate to sound corny, but from the beginning they seemed destined to make it. The enthusiasm they generated between them was, and is, something everyone feels. You share their excitement..."

Spots off. The applause goes on and on. You're pleased when the show comes off so well. Ken on the piano bench, no longer craning to reach the microphone. Bobby with that smile. Ken's wife, Jan, at table 6, beaming as though they had just won doubles at Wimbledon.

San Francisco, 1:30 a.m. It's the kind of night when y9our breath leaps out in white clouds. For Bobby And I it's the end of the first engagement at the start of a career. Now it's off to L.A. – more clubs, television, the first record album. And now they're getting their ankles wet. – Al Stoffel

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