John Sebastian playing at Woodstock on August 16, 1969. PHOTO: BARON WOLMAN/ICONIC IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES
John Sebastian always seemed to be in the right place at the right time in the 1960s. Early in the decade, the singer-songwriter was part of the music scene in New York’s Greenwich Village and wound up in the lyrics of the Mamas & the Papas’ “Creeque Alley.” By 1969, he was an accidental performer at Woodstock singing “Darling Be Home Soon.”
Originally written by Mr. Sebastian in 1966 and recorded by his band, the Lovin’ Spoonful, “Darling Be Home Soon” was widely thought to be an anti-war song illustrating the worries of a wife whose husband was being deployed to Vietnam. In truth, the song was written for a coming-of-age film directed by Francis Ford Coppola and based on Mr. Sebastian’s own romantic dilemmas.
After the movie was released 50 years ago, the song reached No. 15 in 1967 on the Billboard pop chart. Among those who recorded versions of the song were Joe Cocker, Cass Elliot and the Tedeschi Trucks Band. Mr. Sebastian talked about the song’s evolution. Edited from an interview:
John Sebastian: In early 1964, Zal Yanovsky and I formed a band in Greenwich Village. We were still trying to come up with a name when I ran into Fritz Richmond, a friend and musician. I asked him for suggestions. Fritz asked what we sounded like. I said a cross between Chuck Berry and Mississippi John Hurt. Fritz suggested the Lovin’ Spoonful, a line from Hurt’s 1963 song, “Coffee Blues.” The name was perfect.
The following year, the Spoonful signed with Kama Sutra Records, and we had our first hit in August ’65 with my song, “Do You Believe in Magic.” Around this time, our manager Bob Cavallo was approached by producers Jack Rollins and Charles Joffe, who wanted us to record original music for Woody Allen’s first feature film, “What’s Up, Tiger Lily?” due out in early ’66.
The band took the job, but we never had any contact with Woody, who I later learned wasn’t that happy that the studio had used us. When we finished, the Spoonful left on a tour of England, Ireland and Sweden, returning to the States in the spring of ’66. By then, we had three more hits—“You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice,” “Daydream” and “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?”
That summer, after “Summer in the City” became a No. 1 hit, Bob Cavallo said Francis Ford Coppola wanted us to record original music for a film still in production, “You’re a Big Boy Now.” Francis was 27 then and just starting out as a feature film director.
Francis had this intensity behind his eyes and yet he was very easygoing. I think part of our simpatico was being Italian. Though my name is Sebastian, my father was a classical chromatic harmonica player born John Sebastian Pugliese. His parents had emigrated from Italy.
A few days later at his screening room, Francis ran the entire film for me, which was a dark comedy about a young awkward guy coming of age in New York. At one point, Francis stopped the film during an extended no-dialogue love scene.
It featured Bernard [Peter Kastner], the film’s naive and inexperienced male lead, being seduced by Barbara Darling [Elizabeth Hartman], a young woman who knew a lot more than he did. Francis had dropped the Mamas & the Papas’ “Monday, Monday” into the scene to illustrate the mood and tempo he wanted from me.
Like most artists who need to write songs frequently, I had bits and pieces of ideas in my head. One of these ideas was a reaction to pop songs I had heard on the radio then by male artists singing things like, “Honey I love you so much but my music is pulling me away and I’m on the road and it’s so sad.”
I thought, “What would it be like if the roles were reversed, if the guy was the one waiting for his girlfriend to return from the road?” It took me few days to write the song. The verses were pleas for a partner to spend a few minutes talking before leaving. They resolve in a chorus yearning for the partner’s return: “But darling be home soon / I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled.” What made the song interesting is that you never know if the other person was actually there listening or was already gone.
When I finished the music and lyrics, I played the song for Francis. He thought it was good. Next, I played it for the movie people, who felt it was too spare and wanted to add orchestration. We already knew Artie Schroeck, who had arranged for Laura Nyro and was highly respected, so we suggested him.
The Spoonful recorded “Darling Be Home Soon” in a day. When we returned to the studio the next morning, our producer, Erik Jacobsen, was pale. The second engineer cleaning up my vocal track had mistakenly erased it. I couldn’t believe it. The track I had recorded was so heartfelt. It was the one.
They just needed me to re-record my vocal. I did that right away, with the wound still fresh. What you hear on the record is me, a half-hour after learning that my original vocal track had been erased. You can even hear my voice quiver a little at the end. That was me thinking about the vocal we lost and wanting to kill someone.
When the movie came out in early December ‘66, I was happy with our music. I felt like I was raising my game to be in Francis’s league. But the film didn’t get much traction, and the “You’re a Big Boy Now” soundtrack became a lost Lovin’ Spoonful album. By 1968, I wanted to go my own way, and the Spoonful broke up.
In the early summer of ‘69, producer Paul Rothchild called. Before we got off the phone, he asked if I was going to Woodstock in August, that there was going to be a big music festival there. I said, “Sure, why not.”
On Friday, Aug. 15, I made it to the airport in Albany, N.Y., and was looking for a flight to get me closer when I looked out the lounge window and saw Walter Gundy, my old road manager, loading a helicopter with the Incredible String Band’s equipment. I had my ride.
Twenty minutes later I was at the concert. Backstage, I knew everyone there. It was a small music business then. The Spoonful had dissolved, so I wasn’t on the list of performers. I was just there to listen to the music
The next day, as it rained, I stood under one of the covered parts with concert producer Michael Lang and Chip Monck, the lighting director and announcer. Around 3:30 p.m., the rain stopped and Michael said he needed someone to go on with an acoustic guitar because they couldn’t set up amps on stage for Santana until the water was swept off. Michael turned to me and asked if I’d do it. Folk singer Tim Hardin loaned me his Harmony Sovereign guitar.
When Chip announced me on the P.A. system, I went out in what I was wearing—my tie-dyed white denim jacket and tie-dyed white jeans with the cuffs rolled up. I sang five songs, including “Darling Be Home Soon,” which was easy to do as a solo.
The audience didn’t identify the song with the movie, since most probably hadn’t seen it. Instead, they sort of quieted down and took it in as an anti-war love song. When I finished, the applause from so many people was loud and wide, and knocked the wind out of me. The feeling was delicious.
Today, when I perform, I almost always play “Darling Be Home Soon.” It has a slightly different meaning now. I’ve been married for 46 years and always look forward to getting home soon. My Woodstock white tie-dyed jean jacket is at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. As for the tie-dyed white pants, they were stolen three weeks after Woodstock out of a laundromat on New York’s Carmine Street.
John Sebastian performed at Bethel Woods Art Center on Aug. 18, 2013 in Bethel, N.Y. PHOTO: CHARLES NORFLEET/GETTY IMAGES 
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mikeh, on 2016-December-16, 16:55, said:
