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Formats and Editions
1. Hot Smoke and Sassafras
2. Lonely
3. Grand Illusion
4. Methedrine Blues
5. Hard Livin'
6. Bound to Pain
7. Puppy Jam-1984, The
More Info:
The Tale of Bubble Puppy The Tale of Bubble Puppy 1966-1972 Let me introduce myself, I'm Rod Prince...co-founder of Bubble Puppy. As the eldest, this task falls to me: To tell our story in full. I'll tell it as it came down, only truth, will no holds barred. The Puppy was and is: Rod Prince-Lead Guitar and Vocals Roy Cox-Bass and Vocals Todd Potter-Lead Guitar and Vocals David ' Fuzzy ' Fore-Drummer-Vocals Now, shall we begin..... Late winter, 1966, just north of Corpus Christi, Texas. I'm in Mathis, Texas at my parents house, lately back from L.A. trying to sort out my life. Cox calls from San Antonio wanting to make another stab at musical greatness. We first met when the Bad Seeds split, and Cox was playing keyboards under an assumed name. We made the 'New Seeds', with my former Seedmate,drummer Bobby Donaho, and Steve Lohse on bass. Good stuff, but not magical-we split, Roy went back to S. A. and I put my guitar down for eight months. Now, here's Roy calling me to come to S.A., nothing solid, only in his head, Right? Ah, fool that I am, off to friends couches for months. However Cox, even then, was obsessed with his vision of a top gun Rock band. Soon he presents me to Clayton Pulley, basher deluxe from Austin, Texas. We start to make music and it's got that magical thing!(To veiw Clayton,imagine the singer from the 'Union Gap' remade in a 6'3' muscle version with a heart to match-a dear friend). Now, Clayton knew this little Potter guy-gymnast, sax player and guitar study, who Clayton thought equal to the dual- lead guitar band I'd invisioned for years. We went to Austin, Todd and I sat down together for a pick- Bingo! We meshed instantly-one more magical player! I make it sound all fun and good times-but not at all. Truth to tell, only the strength of Roy's purpose held me. Long I brooded in whatever secret place I could find. The music was all, the high points were few, and that didn't pay the bills. Danny Segovia joined us then, golden voice and deadly sax player-The original Puppy was born. Many months we rehearsed mornings and afternoons at the 'PussyKat' Club in San Antonio, recording some four or five songs during that time period. Those tapes were lost for many years, but I've been lucky enough to find them again, soon to be remastered by ActualArtists for your pleasure. Finally a major break-the mission: opening act for the 'WHO' This would be our first live performance.....what a beginning. The Who came to town a day or so before the show. We had aquired a manager by this time and he encouraged the band to come and enjoy our rehearsal venue (a Godsend to a touring act ). So, we found ourselves making music with the late Keith Moon, John Entwhistle and Pete Townsend,..while Roger Daltry looked on. The show was an amazing success-our true and future drummer, David Fore, had come up from C.C. to see the show, and 'Fuzz' wouldn't shit me, 'eh!... Then, as all bands do,...we began to grow. And, in so doing we began to change. Clayton was gone, replaced by Craig Root. Danny was gone, not replaceable...then Graig was gone and replaced by David Fore..finally becoming the true Puppy drummer. This nexus occured in the move to Austin, Texas in the summer of 1967. We had aquired some financial backing by this time and were able to rent a place to live and practice. The house is gone now, only empty fields- where so much of the Puppy was born and grew. We began our year long practice discipline of 10 hours a day, 7 days a week there. We were also given the Vulcan Gas Company as a rehearsal venue. We had started to open for established acts such as 'Shiva's Head Band'...'New Atlantis'...The 'Conqueroo'...AND..'The Johnny Winter Band' with Uncle John Turner and Tommy Shannon. Soon, the hard discipline began to show in our performances. A fluke of fate brought us to Houston, and a recording contract with the 'International Artists' record label. 'AH, They've made it' you say. Sheepshit! For ten months we literally lived on black eyed peas and music. I. A. had only advanced us enough money for rent. We slept on old cast iron beds from my Great- grandfather's house; we ate black eyed peas canned in mason jars by my Great grandmother. We had nothing else-our entire world was our music. That song cycle-songtitles such as 'Beginning, Elizabeth, Hurry Sundown, I've got to Reach You' showed a certain hungry edge, don't you think? Then, December '68...Hot Smoke was released. I.A., fat and dumb,...had a HIT on their hands. Consider the song scope- Hot Smoke was No. 1 across the globe for two months. This is NO joke, I was there, I saw the numbers. Name a country, any country-No. 1, 8 weeks! Why not number one in America? True tales are best. Now, consider I. A. Their only other chart maker was 'You're Gonna Miss Me' by the 13th Floor Elevators. The only true music- industry person in the ranks was our beloved producer, Ray B. Rush. With the notable exception of Nobel Ginther, the entire organization was made up of no- talent lawyers, thugs, and the spawn of the shallow end of the gene pool-clueless all. Comes a time-the band was in the studio rehearsing new tracks. Now, from that room, one can see who comes and goes, if the main door is open-it was. We see three persons-Black on Black, slick hair, the eyes of snakes. They pass the studio room, mount the stairs to the President's office. We consider, then play some more. Directly, back they come, grim as death, climb in their limo and burn away. Maybe ten minutes later, a very shaken pres., stumbles down stairs, croaks for water. Seems these three reptilians were the reps. For our'other government', and the pres. Didn't want to pay their 'mordido' for New York and Los Angeles air play. Remember, this was early 1969 and these things were very real. They let him live, but Hot Smoke was allowed no air play in New York or L.A. Hence, in the U.S.A., Hot Smoke only reached number 13 on the charts-shit, not too bad, without the two major U.S. markets. Stay with me, it only get's worse. Once again, consider I.A., Of course, they have their own booking agency, managment company, publishing company. When the moment came the throw the Puppy on the road, what do they do? No. 1 across the globe and they fly us into Chicago O'hare, room us at the Holiday Inn, and book a world-class act in every 200 seat bar within driving distance of the hotel. Todd had to collect the gate dollars; in truth he was our road manager as well as bandmate, a very sad state for us. We hungered for the rest of the planet. The fans who had made us no. 1 for months should not have been denied just to feed the ego of the imcompetants who refused to relinquish the career management of the Puppy. Black hatred.... and the start of our crash course in reality ( as it is, in the music biz). We had never lost our committment to our music, and having, at the least, another LP's worth of material already recorded at I. A., we began to focus more and more on our live performance skills. Now, a monster hit from a new band, by nature, throws the band into the opening- act roll for any upper echelon, artistically comperable headliner. Now, you know we didn't blow the WHO off of the stage, but that was long ago by this time. Into the fire we went, our long years of hard work enabled us! Against all odds, show after show, we, the opening act would command standing ovations and multible encores, the things usually saved for the headliner. It was much like pro sports-if we were all healthy and undamaged, the game went to us. But if our discipline, organization, or simple health faltered-the game shifted to the headliner's court. Acts of God? Well, maybe-I recall vividly our first six week venture to Chicago's O'hare Holiday Inn. My luck ran out. I had contracted some form of intestinal flu virus-couldn't even keep pepto bismol down. OH, we did the shows, but I only remember flashes. Bob Seger's sound check at some high school gym, many shows in piecemeal. How can t
