Frampton Comes Alive and Shows Me the Way

Frampton Comes Alive

Peter Frampton

1976

It seemed to be a relatively common affliction growing up.  In fact, only one or two of my most outgoing buddies were completely immune.  But I had it bad.  Real bad.  Worse than anyone else I knew.  Back then I didn’t know there was a name for it, but as it turns out, I had one of the worst documented cases of teenage Venustraphobia on record.  That’s right, I was afraid of beautiful women.

To most people I probably seemed like an average, well-adjusted, outgoing young dude.  But I went to pieces around women.  Asking them out was unthinkable.   I couldn’t even look at them.  If I so much as made eye contact with a girl I liked, four things were certain to happen.  I would immediately lose the ability to speak, turn bright red, flee, and breakout in acne.

But that was all before one Peter Kenneth Frampton, taught me how to conquer my fear.  I can still recall the moment.  I had come home from school and Mom was watching what I believe was the Mike Douglas show.  Since you almost never saw rock and roll on TV in those days, his performance of “Show Me the Way” drew my immediate attention.   Dusk was falling on Lippincott Avenue as I walked through the shadows and past the living room television.  Hearing the song, I stopped in my tracks and stood, transfixed on Peter Frampton, this skinny young Englishman with long flowing hair and a sweet, custom Les Paul guitar.  Mike Douglas adored him.  My mom adored him. But most important, the girls in the audience adored him.  It was so simple.  I just needed to learn how to play electric guitar!

One of the things I noticed first was his use of a talk box, an unusual guitar effect pedal that essentially allows a guitarist to chew on an amplified tube and combine the tone of his guitar with his voice to create a sound that might remind you of a robot in need of speach therapy.  It was a gimmick to be sure, but the novelty of that sound is what transformed a great song into a hit.  As best I can recall, it was a performance that changed the course of my life, because it inspired me to play the guitar, grow my hair long, get on the Mike Douglas show, play to adoring fans and get the girl of my dreams.

In hindsight, it must have seemed odd that the biggest selling record in the U.S. in 1976 – a year when America was celebrating 200 years of independence from England – was recorded by an Englishman during his tour of the U.S.   After three artistically solid but commercially disappointing records, Frampton Comes Alive was a breakout game changer for Peter Frampton and the music industry as a whole.  No one saw it coming.  He became an “overnight sensation” and the double live concert LP format became a staple of every artist’s catalog.

Things begin with a bang as “Mr. Peter Frampton” is introduced as an “Honorary Member of San Francisco Society.”  Such credentials!  Who knew?  We launch into “Something’s Happening,” a song that presages everything Frampton does right, including upbeat hard rock hooks, a strong sense of melody, effortless vocals and harmonies, lots of breathing room, and soaring, carefully constructed guitar solos. At more than five minutes, it’s a relaxed and lengthy song even by rock and roll standards, but this is live, right?  This is where we let our hair down and have some fun.  When the song ends, Frampton practically beams greeting his audience with a booming, “Hello San Francisco!” I haven’t made it to San Fran yet, but when I do, you can be sure one of the first things I’ll do is enthusiastically salute the city with that very phrase!  But we’re not done with charming patter yet.  Before launching into the next song, Peter thanks the audience in what can only be described as a voice that predicts Austin Power’s caddish charm when he says,  “you’re really too much, thank you….”

The rest of side one follows the suit, delivering three more melodic, mid tempo, hard rock excursions, including the breakout single, “Show Me the Way.”   The song joins Kiss’ “Rock and Roll All Night” as one of only two singles I can recall that were released twice by the same artist, succeeding only with the live versions.  Like most of Frampton’s best music, the word “breezy” jumps to mind.  The description might seem dismissive, but Frampton wisely played to his strengths.  He never really did write songs with an edge, rather he excelled at the opposite side of that spectrum.  To paraphrase one of his best known songs, Frampton felt good and he wanted us to feel good too.  Frampton’s songs felt like the sun’s warming touch and the goosebumps you get on the beach when the sun goes down and the wind kicks up.  Perhaps it’s no coincidence that he wrote songs titled “I Want to Go to The Sun” and “Wind of Change.”  Anchored by the gorgeous, “Baby I Love Your Way,” side two featured a lovely set of solo acoustic performances.  Frampton’s decision to dial things back worked beautifully, giving the audience a chance to chill, and setting the stage for Frampton to really stretch out and rock on the albums lengthy closing numbers, “Lines on My Face” and “Do You Feel Like We Do.”

The crowd ambience really adds something to the music too.   It’s the kind of record that transports you to a place you’ve never been to by simulating a place you understand.  I mean, I wasn’t there, but having heard this record countless times over nearly four decades, I almost believe that I was.   Accomplishing this illusion isn’t as easy as it seems.  As producer, Frampton, created a sense of place intentionally and with purpose through his mixing of the audio tracks.   The way he addresses the audience, their cheers and remarks, the echo on the instruments, an unexpected burst of fireworks, and the languid pacing of the set all combine to create more than documentation of a live show.  Frampton directs and produces the story of a fictional concert experience and you are there in the front row, in a starring role.  It’s the concert of a lifetime delivered on two vinyl platters.

Bolstered by my new black Les Paul copy, a few decent chords and newfound sense of confidence, I eventually overcame my fear of women and asked out one of the prettiest girls in my 7th grade class.  She was a recent transfer student from across the river in Philadelphia.  Wearing tight bell-bottomed jeans and shear low-cut peasant tops, she didn’t dress like the girls I knew.  She was a step or two ahead of the rest of us and intimidating.  Yet, crazy as it seemed, the plan actually worked and she accepted!  Here I was, just beginning to play guitar, and already out on my first date with a beautiful girl.  What I didn’t know at the time was that while I had gotten infinitely better at asking girls out, I had no idea what to do on a date.  I froze up at the bowling alley, couldn’t talk, turned red, called my parents to pick us up, went home and broke out in acne.  Frampton had shown me the way, but after one horrible date,  the girl only showed me the door.  That’s why we guitarists practice.