WILD MAN AND ME
I first met Larry Fischer in the mid-'80s at an annual comic book convention held in San Diego, California. As a cartoonist/illustrator/comic artist/animator, I'd gotten into the habit of attending this convention every year. Though he wasn't a visual artist himself, Larry began making regular appearances during the con as well (the reasons for his attendance are a bit too complex to go into here). I introduced myself to him and told him how much I'd enjoyed his first album, which I'd had since my teens. Over the following years, we had many long conversations about his unusual life & on-again, off-again "career" in the music business. Once, I saw him perform in San Diego with a live band. I couldn't believe I was dancing while "Wild Man" was singing one of my favorites, "The Taster"!
In the early '90s, my friend Dennis Eichhorn began producing his comic book, titled Real Stuff. Denny wrote all of the autobiographical stories for the magazine, which were then illustrated by a variety of artists. I became a regular illustrator for the title. At some point, Denny mentioned that he'd booked a small concert tour with Larry back in the '70s, and that he had lots of crazy "Wild Man" stories he wanted to include in Real Stuff. When I told Denny that I knew Larry personally, it was immediately agreed upon that I would illustrate the stories. Our collaboration produced enough "Wild Man" pages to fill an entire comic book themselves.
When Larry found out about the stories, he was not pleased. He seemed to think that he'd been exploited and had somehow been cheated out of money...which wasn't really true; the small amounts Denny and I made on the stories hardly made up for the amount of time and effort we put into producing them. Larry also felt that many of the Real Stuff stories about him were not true. I decided it might be wise to avoid "Wild Man" for awhile, until he'd had a chance to simmer down over the whole thing.
A couple of years later, some fink (who shall remain nameless) pointed me out to Larry, saying, "He's the guy that drew you!" Not having made the connection before...probably because he didn't see me frequently enough to remember my name...Larry really chewed me out. When he asked about Denny, I lied and told Larry that he was dead. After a few more angry words, Larry stalked off.
Eventually, though, I talked to Larry again and he forgave me. I gave him my studio number in Portland, Oregon, and asked him to call me if he'd be interested in doing an interview to tell his side of the story. After many, many long-distance phone calls (he always called me collect), Larry finally agreed to a telephone interview which was conducted in October of '97.
Those who desire a more in-depth view of Larry Fischer's life and career need look no further than the amazing Wild Man Fischer website (www.erie.net/~bbelovar/wildman/), maintained by the equally amazing Brian Belovarac. -JRW
Would you dare to spend an evening with Wild Man Fischer? Many have. Some were delighted; others fled. Some were amused, bemused, confused...perhaps a combination of all three, at the same time. Some might have been very, very sorry...either for themselves, or for Wild Man, or both.
Larry "Wild Man" Fischer's first recording was released in 1968, on Frank Zappa's Bizarre label. Appropriately enough, the double album was titled An Evening With Wild Man Fischer. He was no overnight sensation, to be sure...but some who heard the recording could never forget it.
The album is much more than just a collection of Fischer's original tunes. The songs are there, of course...mostly unaccompanied (Fischer has never played an instrument, and is in the habit of singing a cappella). But there are also "field recordings" of his performances and interactions with the crowd along the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles (he often sang outside the Whisky A Go Go nightclub)...some conversations with Zappa during the recording sessions...and Fischer's sometimes hilarious or painful musings about his unconventional life. This was hardly a typical "rock & roll" recording of the time; it wasn't "typical" in any sense of the word. It was--and is, if one can manage to find and listen to it--an intense, sometimes disturbing audio portrait of a complex and unique individual.
Some even came back for more. Additional recordings would come along later, most notably Wildmania ('77), Pronounced Normal ('81), and Nothing Scary ('84), all on the Rhino Records label. But, of course, the legend began with An Evening With...or did it?
Lawrence Wayne Fischer was born November 6th, 1944. His father passed away when Larry was young. This Wild-Man-to-be was too much for his mother to handle...she eventually had him committed to a mental institution...twice. "My mother used to scream at me all the time", Fischer recalls. "(She) said I was never gonna do anything...and all of a sudden I start writing songs...it was really strange. The more my mother would yell, the more I'd write all these songs! I'd go down to the beach and sing, and everybody liked it! So, from there, I just sang all over the place. Every day I just sang, sang, sang...I wouldn't stop singin'! I got thrown out of high school for it, I got thrown in the mental hospital for it, but I just sang constantly." He was diagnosed as a paranoid-schizophrenic, and admits to having manic-depressive tendencies.
"I didn't sing for money, at first", he says. "I sang for free. I wanted to have a social life...I got invited to lots of parties...I was living with my mother; I didn't need to make money." Eventually, though, Fischer's occasional need for cash won out and he decided to "go into the music business." He would station himself on a busy street, often outside a restaurant or nightclub, and ask passers-by, "Would you like to hear an original song for a dime?"
He became a regular fixture on the Sunset Strip and began to attract considerable attention with his unusual songs. The "Wild Man" nickname, he claims, was given to him by soul singer Solomon Burke. Fischer thought the moniker was appropriate, and kept it. "He (Burke) discovered me in a club", Fischer says. "He took me on tour for two shows before I even made records...but that didn't last." Fischer's mother wasn't the only one who would have difficulty handling his constant manic energy. "He said, 'You certainly talk a lot for a white guy!", Fischer laughs. "He said, 'I never knew they made white people like you...with so much soul!' He actually thought I had a lot of soul!"
Wild Man attracted the attention of a scout for Laugh-In, the popular television comedy program that had recently introduced Tiny Tim to an unsuspecting world. "1968 was my year, for some reason", Fischer says. "The success of Tiny Tim sent a lot of people coming in my direction. They thought I was better than Tiny Tim. People that normally would shun away from me, when I was singin' on Sunset Boulevard and everywhere--Phil Spector and all of 'em that used to think, oh, I'm funny, and I'm only funny, I'm interesting and everything--they all start(ed) gettin' serious about me." Fischer appeared on only one Laugh-In program, performing "Merry-Go-Round" and "The Leaves Are Falling".
Enter Frank Zappa, yet another who would "discover" Wild Man on the street...but the first who would preserve his voice on record for posterity. A double album debut is an amazing beginning for any performer; An Evening With Wild Man Fischer practically stupefies the imagination...certainly nothing like it had ever been released before. Fischer's mental illness is freely and frequently mentioned. There are some who have accused Zappa of taking unfair advantage of Fischer's disabilities in the interest of making and selling records. But Fischer went into the "music business"--and the recording studio--of his own free will. And, as he remembers, "Zappa was kind to me while I was making the album."
Some sample track titles from the double LP: "Which Way Did The Freaks Go?"; "I'm Working For The Federal Bureau Of Narcotics"; "Success Will Not Make Me Happy"; and "Think Of Me When Your Clothes Are Off ('Cause I'll Be Thinking Of You)". Inside the fold-out sleeve is a "chart," written in Fischer's own hand, in which he proclaims himself to be "THE TOP."...below his name appear the names of other "inferior" rock & roll acts like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and Elvis. "I have to admit...I don't have very much self-confidence!" Fischer confesses. "I say I do, when I talk, you know...it's a defensive mechanism. I figure if I tell everybody I'm better than everybody, then...they might believe it. Which sometimes they do!"
For the benefit of the uninitiated, a brief description of Wild Man's technique: It's definitely not a trained voice...it's coarse and worn, no doubt from overuse (incessant talking; frequent loud singing over crowd and traffic noise without benefit of a microphone or amplification). He's a shouter, not a crooner. His manic energy is plainly apparent in his delivery, and he often hits notes with a rapidly descending falsetto shriek. He even imitates a calliope (the "boop-boop-boop" riff in his signature tune "Merry-Go-Round"). It's jarring, but not completely unpleasant, for short periods...and often quite funny. Wild Man obviously has a sense of humor about himself, the world around him, and how others react to his hyperkinetic persona. It's an "act", but, then again, it isn't. He says it himself: He is Wild Man Fischer 24 hours a day.
Fischer's association with Zappa was short-lived. "Even Frank Zappa told me...'You've got talent, you're an interesting guy, you do good songs and stuff...but I could see you hardly not (sic) working.' And I said, 'Why, Frank?'" Zappa's reply: "'Because you never shut up!'" Nearly ten years would pass before the next Wild Man album would be released.
Still, the legend continued to grow. Wild Man went on making infrequent personal appearances here and there. Unsettling stories and rumors began to circulate: Wild Man threw something at Zappa's wife in a fit of rage. Wild Man asked to use the bathroom in someone's home, then proceeded to defecate in a closet. Wild Man stayed awake all night during a party, naked, holding a knife to "protect" his concert earnings. Wild Man rode a bus up and down the west coast, carrying a gun.
Some appropriately "wild" tales eventually appeared in Dennis Eichhorn's autobiographical comic book Real Stuff, published by Fantagraphics Books. Eichhorn had accompanied Fischer on a four-city concert tour in the '70s. About the comic stories, Fischer complains, "Most of those things are not even true." But then he qualifies the statement: "A lot of it's true." About carrying the gun? "I thought people were after me...and...I thought there was a contract on my life...from somebody in the music business. And I had a gun...but it was a BB gun." Reluctantly, he continues. "I basically had it in (my) suitcase. I certainly didn't take it out, if that's what you mean. I was only using it for self-defense, okay? I wasn't threatening people with it..." He adds, "I get really super-paranoid sometimes, alright?"
Fischer's paranoia and unpredictable behavior would have definite negative effects on his show business dealings and aspirations. He frequently grumbles that he was constantly being "ripped off" somehow, though his recordings and concert appearances certainly didn't make a fortune for anyone involved. Fischer isn't unaware of his personal failings, however. "I gotta admit one thing. I'm overly sensitive. That's another bad fault I have. I hold grudges. I'm overly sensitive...and you can't be that way and stay in show business. Even my family told me that...'You can not act like you act all the time, being hyper and manic-depressive and everything around these people in show business, 'cause it ain't gonna happen. It might last for awhile, but eventually...'"
Fischer describes the situation bluntly, if not originally: "What became a dream turned into a nightmare." Still...Wild Man hung around Hollywood long enough to attract the attention of Rhino Records, which released his second album--Wildmania--in 1977. Two more albums on the label followed, in '81 and '84.
Perhaps he was motivated by the need for money, or the need for some kind of recognition...or maybe he just couldn't stop being a 24/7 "Wild Man". Whatever the reasons, he continued to pursue the nightmare-dream. Some of his songs were played on the Doctor Demento radio show...the two even recorded a holiday novelty duet together, titled "I'm A Christmas Tree" (Fischer adds, "I'm a Hannukah bush")...he appears in a video with a group known as The Rugburns...an album with experimental/"noise" band Smegma has appeared (reviewed elsewhere in this issue)...rumors of recordings with an obscure group called Armpit have recently been confirmed...an unreleased duet with popular singer Rosemary Clooney really does exist...and Rhino Records has finally released a limited edition 2-CD collection of everything Fischer recorded for the label, including some previously unreleased material. His first album remains out of print.
Sadly, Fischer is unable to summon up much optimism, if any, about his present or future career. "I used to get excited about doing shows," he explains. "Now I'm thinkin' about, 'Oh, no, the music business sharks again...the managers, the agents...I can't deal with this! I wanna do it, but am I safe to do it? I gotta have a bodyguard, people get jealous...'"
A message to his fans: "What I'd like (people) to know about me is I wanted to be a rock star once, but I don't wanna be a rock star anymore." More sadly still, he says, "I live in scary places 'cause I don't have much money. I'm not rich...whaddaya think, I'm a millionaire?" Even on his first album, some disturbing questions that occurred to Larry Fischer--and to some of his listeners--arose; questions that might very well haunt this "Wild Man" for the rest of his life. One can hardly help wondering: Was it wise for someone with a history of mental illness to involve himself in the harsh realities of show business, or to expose himself to a sometimes cruel or fickle public? Probably not. But was it wrong for someone with psychological and emotional problems to want people to like him, to desire a "social life," to aspire to fame and fortune? And as listeners...should we be ashamed to be entertained or amused by the likes of Wild Man Fischer, who bares his soul to us so willingly?
For some questions there are no easy answers. In his liner notes for the first album, Frank Zappa writes: "PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS ALBUM SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE YOU DECIDE WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIKE IT OR WHAT WILD MAN FISCHER IS ALL ABOUT. HE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU, EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO HEAR IT."
What does Fischer say now? "I don't have much of a career anymore. I've given up. But they're still talking about that album I made in 1968. Is that pretty good, or what?" And does he still sing...? "Once in awhile," Larry Fischer says, "I'll walk down the street and I'll write a song..."
c1999 J.R. Williams