Manson, Music and Motive - What NBC's Aquarius Gets Wrong and Right

Every armchair criminologist from my generation eventually tackles Charles Manson. He's our Hitler, a larger-than-life incarnation of the ultimate evil that defines the night terrors of our youth. I was four years old and blissfully ignorant when Manson and his Family first initiated the series of killings that would mark 1969's Summer of Blood in Los Angeles and environs. That ignorance would be short-lived, however, and grow into a fascination that persists to this day. Needless to say, when I first got wind of NBC's Aquarius mini-series earlier this year, I went on immediate DVR alert. A look at Manson's nascent psychopathy, i.e. Manson before he became Manson makes must-see TV for a true-crime devotee and cult watcher such as myself. But more on Aquarius later. For now, let's talk about Manson, his music and a possible motive for his crimes.

I first became aware of the Manson murders in elementary school when the nightly news featured regular updates from his trial. My older brother, Bob, worldly and well-read at twelve years old, promptly introduced me to the concept of cult mind control and filled me in on the basics of the crime. (My ever-lasting thanks, Bob!) By the time I was eleven, Manson was safely locked-up in prison while his Family lived on as a creepy coven of real-life bogey women, would-be presidential assassins and fodder for Saturday Night Live Skits. Just one more strain of white noise buzzing in the colorful background of a 70s childhood. A few years later, though, in my early teens, I encountered a new Charlie Manson.

This new Manson wasn't a psycho, evil genius or would-be messiah. Rather he was one of a number anti-establishment antichrists - Anton LaVey, Aleister Crowley, King Diamond - venerated by a sub-set of "satanist" stoners and other proto-goths roaming the halls of North Olmsted Junior High. At that same time in ninth-grade Social Studies, Mr. Evans (NOJHS' coolest teacher) used Manson's Helter Skelter crime spree as launching pad to introduce the current hot topics of counter-culture, "hard drugs" and mind control. Mr. Evans' lectures immediately sent me paper chasing to the Cleveland Public Library downtown where I reviewed news articles from Manson's trial on microfilm and discovered Vincent Bugliosi's 1974 opus Helter Skelter. Needless to say, I devoured the 500-plus pages during a 48-hour reading orgy before augmenting the book with Helter Skelter, the movie, starring a Manson-channeling Steve Railsback.

By the ripe old age of fifteen, then, I knew everything there was to know about Charles Manson, the Tate-LaBianca murders and the Helter-Skelter scenario that fueled his murderous megalomania. Or so I thought before I discovered Charlie's other side. A side only casually mentioned by Bugliosi and others: Charles Manson, the musician.

No doubt that fateful day began normally enough. Just like hundreds of other teenage days during summer vacation. I probably woke up and puttered around the house for a few hours before declaring absolute boredom and hopping a bus to Great Northern Mall. Once at the mall, I looked forward to an afternoon of window-shopping the record stores and hanging out at the food court hoping to meet the one girl on the planet who wouldn't see me as a skinny, acne-ridden, terminally self-conscious loser. On that particular day, I did happen to meet a girl in the food court. Three of them, actually. I later found out they hailed from the neighboring city of Olmsted Falls, which, to my good fortune, meant they didn't know me from school. So they had no preconceptions when I finally grew a pair and struck up a conversation.

Red-eyed, wearing pen-decorated jeans jackets and armed with a small boom-box, these girls advertised who they were to anyone and everyone. Stoner chicks, my friends and I called their kind. Burn-outs. Freaks. The kind of sexy bad girls that fascinated dorks like me. True to their nature, they'd set up camp outside the video arcade, flagrantly disregarding the minor tobacco laws, harassing the rent-a-cops and shouting inappropriate comments towards nearby mall-walking seniors. Circling them for awhile searching for an opening, I eventually caught wind of the music coming from their tape player. Odd, folksy, almost Dylan-esque. Not your typical heavy metal or acid-rock fair for girls such as this. "Who is that?" I finally braved my opening salvo.

"You'll never guess," the loud one in their trio shot back. Seeing as she didn't scream "Rape" or "Faggot," I walked over, sat down and continued listening to their music. After two tracks and some bad guesses (they'd never heard of Tim Buckley or Phil Ochs), the Loud One finally divulged the singer's identity. "That's Charles fucking Manson. She said his name the way I imagine Mary Magdalene referred to Jesus, without the 'fucking' part, of course. What?!  Her answer led to further explanations regarding the sociopath songwriter and his surprisingly innocuous music. "He could have been bigger than the Beatles or anybody," the Loud One pronounced as her minions nodded. "But the record business got too scared and censored him. That's what pissed him off, you know. He killed those people because they screwed him out of his record deal. They fucking deserved it." And that was my brief introduction to Charles Manson, the musician, and Sondra I-Forget-Her-Last-Name-Because-The-Phone-Number-She-Gave-Me-Turned-Out-To-Be-Fake.

Years later at OU, I ended up buying a bootleg cassette tape of Charlie's music at Schoolkids Records in Athens. Whereas the music itself never impressed me, the historical and criminological aspect struck my fancy. By that time, several writers had further explored Charlie's failed music career as a motive for his murder spree. The fact that Sharon Tate lived in the house previously rented by record executive and Manson acquaintance Terry Melcher was already an established fact directly tying Manson to the murder house. Manson's friendship and residency with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson, not to mention the band's reworking of Charlie's "Cease To Exist," provided trivia buffs with a curious footnote to the band's legendary legacy. Gary Hinman, one of Manson's first victims, existed on the fringes of LA's music scene, playing keyboards and giving piano lessons before running afoul of The Family. As for Manson's musical pedigree, numerous sources lent credence to prison-yard tales that notorious murderer Alvin "Creepy" Karpis himself taught Charlie how to play the guitar. Given all these factors combined with Manson's well-publicized obsession with hidden prophetic messages in the works of John, Paul, George & Ringo, even an amateur detective like my younger self could sense a deep connection between Music and Murder in Charlie's crazy cosmology.

Periodically over the proceeding 25-30 years, I actively toyed with the idea of doing an in-depth analysis of Manson's aborted musical dreams in relation to his homicidal temper tantrum. Understandably, I wasn't the only one entertaining such notions, and in 2008 filmmaker Ryan Oksenberg's haunting, unlicensed documentary, Cease To Exist, took the internet underground by storm. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go2ym7HNoC4 ) Of course, the film takes its title from Charlie's only well-known composition, "Cease To Exist," ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI2aAwyzDeE ) later rewritten and re-named by Dennis Wilson as "Never Learn Not To Love," ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8I0v2bVX8j4 ), which appeared on Beach Boys' 1969 album, 20/20. As Oksenberg's narrative unwinds, we see the actual true motive for The Manson Family's murderous spree, Charlie's failed aspirations and slighted ego. For anyone interested in the murders, I enthusiastically recommend Oksenberg's film.

Considering Cease To Exist's depth and clarity, I won't rehash it here. Rather, I'll turn my focus to Charlie's demo tape, the only known testimony to his musical legacy. At first listen, one is immediately struck by the utter banality of it all. Frankly, Manson sounds like one of the era's countless warbling troubadours strumming acoustic guitars whilst trying to evoke alternating moods of playfulness and poignancy. Granted, introspective offerings like "Ego," "Mechanical Man," "Sick City," "Don't Do Anything Illegal," and "People Say I'm No Good," offer obvious glimpses into Manson's troubled inner world. But I believe his lighter, pop-oriented tunes like "Look At Your Game, Girl" and "Home Is Where You're Happy" provide us a true hint at Manson's own musical vision, which is, to be truthful, insipid and insincere.

In retrospect, Manson's demo tape, later released as the album Lie: The Love And Terror Cult, reveals a desperate, marginally-talented dilettante willing to sing or write anything in any style that someone somewhere might buy. What else explains a campy sing-along like "I'll Never Say Never To Always," treacly fare better suited to the New Christy Minstrels than a counter-culture Antichrist. Despite Charlie's anti-establishment posturing, Lie presents to us a Manson who would have sold out to The Man in a downbeat if it meant receiving even a modicum of the musical success and public adoration he felt was his due. Just think, if Charlie had been just a little better and a lot luckier, we might now regard him as a One Hit Wonder instead of a One-Time Most Dangerous Man Alive.

Having finished the first two installments of NBC's Aquarius, I can't help but feel the miniseries' writers share a similar vision and version of Charles Manson. In each episode thus far, considerable time has been spent exploring Charlie's musical aspirations. Aquarius' Manson uses music not only to cajole his followers, but control his very surroundings. Likewise, his unshakable belief in his own musical destiny guides his every Machiavellian machination on the road to fame and fortune.

As fast and loose as Aquarius plays with historical facts, it seems conversely obsessed with establishing a narrative truth in the development of Charlie's character. The resulting product makes for some pretty compelling television, at least so far. Being a lifelong Manson watcher, I'll definitely keep my DVR tuned to Aquarius despite its flaws. I only hope the entire run stays consistent and doesn't wander down the same muddled path as other once promising endeavors: Lost, The Mentalist, Prison Break and most recently The Following.

Buy A Book, Grab A Beer

Anyone interested in an autographed hardcover copy of Cat & Cat, I'll be at the Local Tavern in Parma (5513 Pearl Rd) tonight between 5 - 7PM. Buy a book, and I'll buy you a beer or your beverage of choice. I'll be on the patio if it's nice or inside at the stage bar if it's raining. I'm easy to spot because I look like the guy in my picture. If you can't make it and want a copy, message me here, on Facebook, Twitter or Linked In. Or order directly from:

Amazon:      http://www.amazon.com/Cat-Novel-Three-Movements-ebook/dp/B00JAQXIUE

Smashwords:  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/427306

Barnes & Nobel:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cat-cat-mark-kozak/1119459143

Details on Cat & Cat the audio book coming soon!

Cat & Cat Hardcover Now Available at Amazom.com

Just got my Amazon.com listing for the hardcover edition of Cat & Cat.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0692417974

For anyone local, you can save yourself some time and money and just message me on Facebook, Linked In, Twitter, or email me: m_e_kozak@yahoo.com ; chris.telamon65@gamil.com . I'll get the book to you.

I'm also running a limited-time offer, Buy A Book and Get a Drink. So if you want to buy Cat & Cat and grab an adult beverage or coffee while you're at, let me know. Save yourself shipping and get a complimentary drink of your choice up to $8.99. This is a limited-offer. Message me here if you're interested.

Have fun & Keep Reading!

Mark Kozak

Oh The Places You'll Go - Indy Author Meets Indy Wrestlers

Back in 2009, my unemployment odyssey took me into a temp position with Moen answering consumer phone calls. Basically, the job entailed verbally assisting people with installing or fixing their Moen faucets, i.e. being a plumber over the phone. Training consisted of an eight week school that covered everything from installing and repairing Moen faucets to navigating the company's various computer systems. On the first day of class, I met a guy named David Wilson, and given our similar age and shared experiences we became fast friends. Over the next few weeks, David and I exchanged our biographies and outside interests. I told him about my aspirations as a writer, and he filled me in regarding his dual identity - David Powers - past experiences and ongoing passion for professional wrestling.

Now I know I strike many as an intellectual & cultural snob, what with my incessant prattling about jazz and classical music, the literary canon, history, science, philosophy, theology and craft beers. But pro wrestling - like comic books, Cleveland sports and prime-time television - formed a large part of my childhood worldview and still remains a not-so-guilty pleasure to this day. Needless to say, meeting an honest-to-goodness ex-pro wrestler who could not only talk grappling greats like Abdullah The Butcher or Larry Zbyszko but actually knows them was a huge kick. Even to this day, whenever David and I grab a beer, I always end up pumping him for anecdotes about Tully Blanchard, Paul Orndorff or Mr. Wrestling II. Anyone who knows me well knows I eat up "road stories," be they from the back of the Buddy Rich Big Band bus or a high school gymnasium on the southern Ohio-West VA wrestling circuit.

Of course, like any writer, I can't be content with just knowing interesting people or hearing great stories. Those long conversations with David ended up impacting my creative life and actually inspired the development of a character in my forthcoming novel Stalking Mule. When David mentioned his involvement with a local independent wrestling association, The UXWA based in Brooklyn, Ohio, I jumped at the chance to help sponsor their latest show on May 16th, meet some of the guys and do a little first-hand research on the world of independent professional wrestling. And that's how I found myself at the Dr. Martin Luther Church in Brooklyn last night, rollicking to some bone-crushing take-downs and hawking copies of Cat & Cat at a vendor table.

One day later, writing this blog entry, I can't help but consider last night one of those unexpected lessons you just stumble across in life. As one of countless unknown struggling writers trying to gain traction, it's impossible to know where or when you may end up meeting potential readers and hopefully making new fans. While libraries, bookstores, cafes and artsy pubs are definitely the lifeblood of any writer looking to be heard, sometimes you need to wander out of the comfort zone and go meet folks outside the standard demographic, Maybe you sell some books, or maybe you don't. That's not the point, really. The Experience is the point, the sound of new voices, the ambiance of hitherto unexplored worlds. Like the noted twentieth-century philosopher Theodor Seuss Geisel once said, "Oh, The Places You'll Go!"

The Obligatory Cleveland Post-Season Playoff Post

"So why even watch it, then?" My wife is 100% sincere when she asks me this, eyeing me with a mixture of annoyance and concern while I hurl a few choice obscenities at the television, the officials, the opposing team and our own team's lackluster play. It doesn't matter the sport, the season, the year, the players. I've been through this a dozen times since I can remember. They really could win it ALL this year ... They being the Browns, Cavs or Indians. No matter how many times I've explained The Truth before, I always find myself forced to impart my wisdom once more.

God just doesn't hate Cleveland. He/She/It hates me. Period.

On December 27, 1964, Cleveland won its last championship in a REAL sport. (Sorry, all you Hector Marinaro fans. Bush League Soccer doesn't count.) Exactly one month later, January 27, 1965, I was born. As a card-carrying skeptic, I'm not one to believe in curses or supernatural whammies. Except the one where the entire universe and all its forces are poised against me. Somewhere jotted down in the Book of Life, right between the Big Bang and the Apocalypse, is a quick note by the Almighty that reads, "No Cleveland Championships while Mark Kozak is alive."

Look, I've heard all you Pollyannas before. My whole effing life as a matter of fact. From "We've got a lot of young talent" to "Don't worry, we'll come back" to "Wait til next year", I've watched Cleveland fans contort themselves through every permutation of positive thinking in the vain effort to shake a fist at the Iron Will of Divine Providence. Ain't gonna happen, folks. As long as yours truly breathes, Cleveland is destined to come up short time after time after time after time after .. well, you get the picture.

The worst part are the slogans and songs. "Rutigliano's Super Bowl Team," "Bernie Bernie," arrghhhh!  Listen, if you go into a Cleveland playoff game armed with banners and bromides, you will have your heart ripped out with the added of privilege of being permitted to see the beating, bloody pulp before you die. Instead of the "All In" or "Witness" gear, how about fitting fans with some good old fashioned hair shirts?

Post Season Sports in Cleveland is not a celebration. It's a penance we all pay for the sin of hope that someday, some way one of our teams will alter ALL natural laws and win a championship. Instead of cheering, we need to be flagellating and scourging ourselves in an effort to extinguish every last vestige of optimism from our sickeningly indomitable spirits. Maybe then, God will take pity on our wretched souls and give us a freaking ring. I mean, hell, we've tried building bullpens, drafting franchise players and bringing in proven genius coaches. Why not try marching en masse around the banks of the Cuyahoga with crosses on our back?

Cat & Cat - new hardcover and audio editions; White Picket Jungle and Stalking Mule

All the pieces and funds are finally together for the hard cover version of Cat & Cat. I just put money down at the printers, so there's no turning back now. To everyone who told me, "I can't read ebooks, but I'll buy it when it's a real book," you're all on notice. The hardcover should be available in May, and I'll keep you all posted.

I also have some readings scheduled for the summer, and I'm willing to go pretty much anywhere to hawk the book. So if anyone knows a venue that hosts first-time, self-published authors, please let me know.

Other Cat & Cat news -  I'm currently looking into recording an audio version of Cat for those - like me - who prefer listening to fiction. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to attempt the reading myself or find some voice talent for the endeavor. Forthcoming details here, on Facebook, Linked-In & Twitter, and at zakomark.com.

For those awaiting Stalking Mule and my short story collection, White Picket Jungle, I've made real progress on both this week, and I hope to have some more details later this spring. Thank you all for your patience. It goes without saying that finding time to write can be a little difficult when you have a day job and family responsibilities. I'm hoping the warm weather will give me more opportunities to propel these projects forward.

Plagiarism: What It Is and What It Isn't

Okay, after being harangued by dozens of friends and family, I finally listened to Robin Thicke & Pharrell Williams' "Blurred Lines" versus Marvin Gaye's "Got To Give It Up."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyDUC1LUXSU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fp7Q1OAzITM

I did a quick comparison and found ... this is the most ridiculous plagiarism case victory I've ever encountered. Yes, they sound similar. DUH!!??  So do a lot of other tunes when compared to other tunes in the same vein. But is it plagiarism? Let's dig a little deeper.

First off, I need to confess one thing right off the bat. I know Marvin Gaye's music because it's in my wheelhouse. All I know about Robin Thicke is that he's Alan's kid. Although I may know today's pop artists by name and sight, I never heard "Blurred Lines" until a few days ago. Similarly, I can't identify one Taylor Swift, Justin Beiber or Ariana Grande song; nor do I know ANYTHING current on the pop or country charts unless it's been tastefully redone:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-FS96IlOFg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCgZKAYFU3Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_VBTH72bS8

When I do listen to rock/pop music (which is often), it's The Guess Who, Paul Simon, Hall & Oates, Blood Sweat & Tears, Chicago, The Jess Roden Band, Long John Baldry, Billy Joel, Elton John, John Mellencamp, or Nora Jones. Stuff played and sung  by musicians that makes musical sense to me. Just so you know my prejudices. You can now judge what follows and trust that I'm not impartial, nor would I ever claim to be. I'm a trained, schooled musician  - jazz, classical & rock - descended from three generations of successful professional musicians who all supported their families playing and making music. Yes, that makes me a musical snob. Deal with it. 

That being said, I'm not going to bore non-musicians with a bunch of talk about chord progressions, bass lines, drum beats, etc. All I'm going to say here is that musical elements ARE NOT copyrightable (yes, that's a word) in and of themselves. Take the "Bo Diddly Beat" for example:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yeZHB3ozglQ

Now listen to Buddy Holly and Blues Project use the same beat:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyTtFNGzFsE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ua3zDatgVo4

If musical motives like this were subject to copyright, then over 50% of classical, jazz, rock & pop music would be in violation of plagiarism laws. So now, as a service to anyone interested, let me present a brief overview of what constitutes musical plagiarism (IMHO), and what doesn't.

The Doors "Hello, I Love You" vs. The Kinks "All Day & All of the Night"

Listen for yourself and join me back here when you're done:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzM71scYw0M

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMWNwHof0kc

And here's a mash up that pretty much makes it so clear a child can understand:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSPQFD4FzZQ

Despite Robby Krieger's protestations to the contrary, I have to believe Jim & The Doors knew they were on thin ice here, British courts sure thought so, which is why UK royalties  for "Hello" are paid to Ray Davies & the Kinks.  My verdict? This case is dicey. Similar? Hell yes! Especially when compared to "Blurred Lines" and "Got To Give It Up." But, honestly, "Hello" & "All Day" are different despite the obvious common elements.


The Romantics "What I Like About You" vs. John Mellencamp's "R.O.C.K. In the USA" vs. John Cafferty's "On The Dark Side vs. Neil Diamond's "Cherry, Cherry

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rqnw5IfbZOU - Romantics

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLQrAKhg-4c - John Mellencamp

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWQ-6IAS1cc - John Cafferty

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlcuAsgc5-c - Neil Diamond

Anyone with even a tin ear knows these songs are essentially the same. They all even use the same clap on the off-beat against the the guitar riff. Bar bands have been mixing and matching and mashing up various elements of these tunes for decades. Just search Youtube and you'll even find Lady Antebellum poking fun at their audience with this inside musical joke:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jumv9vmxe6Y . Once again, these songs are all waaaay closer to one another than "Blurred Lines" and "Got To Give It Up." But no one ever sues over a riff, just like they don't sue over chord progressions. And that leads me into jazz and classical music.

A big part of be-bop music rests in taking standard chord changes, such as found in tunes like "I Got Rhythm" and "How High The Moon," and then writing new melodies over the progressions:

"I Got Rhythm": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-cej-5dkc0

"Rhythm-A-Ning": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Di_mswqhLU


"How High the Moon": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8Ji4uG4cac

"Ornithology": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LphuCadyQi0

To non-musicians, "Rhythm-A-Ning" probably sounds completely different when compared to "I Got Rhythm," the same way "Ornithology" seems like a different tune than "How High The Moon." But to jazz musicians playing these tunes, they are infinitely more identical than "Blurred Lines" and "Got To Give It Up"; so much so that early be-boppers got in a lot of trouble lifting standard chord-lines, applying new melodies and crediting themselves as composers. If you still don't hear how "How High The Moon" is "Ornithology," I'll just let Professor Benny Golson demonstrate:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wq0MuQQLoG8

Play the tunes at the same time, and they layer over each other perfectly.

Plagiarism? HELL NO. You may as well accuse Mozart of ripping off Haydn, and then Beethoven for plagiarizing both of them. Or any other classical composers for taking folk melodies or popular arias and reconstituting them in their own symphonies, concerti or tone poems. Musical elements are like colors in a painter's pallet. It's what you do with them that defines whether you are creating something new (even if it is derivative) or just copying or mimicking.

So what, then, is musical plagiarism? My best case is actually hypothetical. What if Weird Al Yankovich recorded "Eat It" or "Another One Rides the Bus" or "White & Nerdy" and didn't credit Michael Jackson, Queen or Chamillionaire respectively. THAT WOULD BE PLAGIARISM. If you want a real example of real plagiarism, I'll point to Robert Van Winkle's direct lift of the bass line from David Bowie's "Under Pressure", adding a quick grace note while keeping the accompanying piano chords for the intro to "Ice Ice, Baby."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kk6NhjD3Dbg

I understand I'm on shaky ground here because "Ice Ice" is a completely different song than "Under Pressure." But since I've already confessed to my prejudices above, I guess you'll just have to consider the source.

What you shouldn't have to consider is whether Thicke & Williams' "Blurred Lines" plagiarized Gaye's "Got To Give It Up." They didn't. Just like countless bands who've written tunes over the Bo Diddly Beat (see above), they lifted a "feel" - a drum beat and a similar bass pattern. The chord progressions are distinctly different, however. Listen to them again now in light of what we've just explored.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyDUC1LUXSU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fp7Q1OAzITM


Do they sound similar? Sure they do. But now that we've reviewed songs that really are more identical, can you hear that "Blurred Lines" was NOT PLAGIARIZED. Thicke and Williams are hacks I wouldn't cross the street to hear for free. But they're not .. I repeat NOT plagiarists. Obviously, however, I must not know what I'm talking about because a jury of their peers heard the case and sided against them.

A jury of their peers? Really? Thicke and Williams may be devoid of any real talent (IMHO), but they're still working song writers and performers. So a true jury of their peers wouldn't consist of convenience store clerks or accountants, but rather other working song writers and performers. You may as well have retail clerks and salesmen judging whether two rival nuclear physicists violated a patent on a super-collider. Hell, I'm even 100% confident Marvin Gaye himself would have laughed at the idea that Willams and Thicke plagiarized him. I know Marvin's music, and he let his influences seep into his songs all the time. It's called music. Like it, hate it, ignore it, it doesn't change what it is and isn't. And "Blurred Lines" isn't "Got To Give It Up," at least not in any universe where I reside.