Back On the Street Again Words and music by Steve Gillette

Two brothers, retired from the Greek army, came to the U. S. and opened two small coffeehouse venues in the resort towns of Balboa and Seal Beach on the Southern California coast in the early nineteen-sixties. These two clubs were modeled on the European coffeehouses, places where intellectuals would drink espresso and talk about Sartre's Existentialism, as I had pretended to do just a year or so earlier on my European sojourn.

Ted Nikas ran the Prison of Socrates, in Balboa, a small listening room bounded by walls painted a flat black with a tiny stage upon which I heard Tim Morgan (a local hero), Jose Feliciano, Bud & Travis, and many others. Prominent in the entrance was a painting by David Renniker of the gloomy cell in which Socrates drank the hemlock. The first fee I earned for performing was from the 'Prison' in the Spring of 1964. I took the ferry across the bay from my apartment on Balboa Island and got paid $35. The ferry ride was only a dime.

George Nikas ran the Rouge et Noir in Seal Beach, with similar modest decor. His club took its name from the card game played in the French casinos, also the red and black of the roulette wheel. There was also a novel by Stendhal from the nineteenth century which became a French film in 1954, about a young man trying to navigate the complicated world of the black, the clerical-political realities of France after Napoleon, and the red, the sensual amorous world of French society. All of these issues had a role in those days for me and both clubs were scenes of my coming of age.

By the time I came to work there, George had decided to change the name to The Cosmos. I guess he felt it was a better fit with the young audience who came there to hear the emerging folk performers and drink the non-alcoholic drinks of soda water and grenadine. It's where I first met John Denver, the Dillards and Joe and Eddie. The brothers were frugal, and did everything on a pretty small scale, and George was able to buy the Golden Bear in Huntington Beach when it went bankrupt for the second time in 1966.

It may be immodest for a man to talk about his first love. To be so fortunate as to have experienced that miraculous awakening of body and soul, is enough. For that love to last would be even more miraculous. If not, as songwriters like to say, "At least I got a good song out of it." The first verse came to me almost fully formed when I was in the shower, something about the 'white noise' and the resonance of the tiles. The sad lines spoke to me as I contemplated the lonely days ahead. I used to say that I tried writing more songs in the shower, but it was ruining my guitar.

As an early song, it may not have the maturity of language of the later poet. That is to say, it's kind of a teenager's, puppy-love, Buddy Holly kind of creation. It's also a song written consciously to sound like songs on the pop charts. And that it came to rest somewhere near the top of the Billboard chart for a time around Thanksgiving of 1967, was a great consolation.

The song also employs a device, an experiment of changing the chords in an unexpected way. Most songs make an excursion from a 'home' chord through a 'progression' of related chords and then back to the 'home' chord. In this song, I intentionally moved from the G to the C and to the D, but then rather than returning to the G and repeating the sequence as so many songs do, I tried, C D G C, D G C D, G C D G, C D G G. A look at the sheet music can give a clearer understanding of the trick, but it was just a matter of surprising the listener by not going to the expected resolution at the expected time.

While it was still unfinished, I showed the song to two young guys who came to hear me play at the Cosmos. Maury Manseau and John Bettis were just beginning to perform as a duo. Maury went on to form the Sunshine Company with fellow students at Long Beach City College. John had written a half a dozen songs with his high school classmate Richard Carpenter, which ended up on the first Carpenters' album. John also went on to write "Slowhand" for the Pointer Sisters.

When John McEuen joined the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, his brother Bill took on the job of managing the group. Maury and the Sunshine Company came under his wing as well, and by virtue of their recording my song, Bill began to work with me also. Another member of our small troupe was John's high school friend, Steve Martin who also started out building his act at those small clubs. All of us generated opportunities for the others.

When Bill secured a recording contract for the Sunshine Company it was Joe Saraceno who engineered the sessions, and his name appeared on the first pressings of the single as the writer, a problem that Bill was able to remedy with subsequent pressings. Still it was a little awkward for my bragging rights for a while. The wonderful arrangement which, I believe, made the song a 'hit' was created by George Tipton, who went on to work with Harry Nillson and had a lot to do with his signature sound. I benefited from his willingness to work hard for little money as a young arranger starting out.

The Sunshine Company's recording opened doors for me. It helped me to secure my contract with Vanguard, although it was Ian & Sylvia's recommendation that brought me there. The popularity of the song provided me with credibility on the College Coffeehouse Circuit that was just beginning to be established across the South and Mid-West. Bill was also able to get me an invitation to be on the Steve Allen Show, an important early evening show with national distribution, and a plus, my mom's favorite.

There have been at least four major blunders that I could point to that could be said to account for the fact that mine is not a household name today. One, surely is for my capricious decision to change my mind about which song I would perform for the television audience of the Steve Allen Show. It was "Back On the Street Again" that was the credit that enabled Bill to book me for the show, and it was the song by which the audience would be able to connect me with the chart record by the Sunshine Company; and it was the song I sang for the sound check, the one they cleared with the publishers and the one they timed for my segment of the show.

But at the last minute I decided that another song, "The Two-Ten Train" written by my friends Tom Campbell and Linda Albertano, was a more exciting choice. I schemed that it would allow me to demonstrate my fastest finger-style prowess. Needless to say, I was not invited back.

Another guest on that show was Mort Sahl, the comedian. He insisted that we all come outside with him so he could show us his new Ferrari 250 GTB convertible. It was truly a fabulous car. I've thought many times that if I'd just played the song I was supposed to, and contributed witty repartee in the interview, that Ferrari would be mine today.

In recent years, I've thought of the song as having another dimension, a look back over a lifetime in music. That's the theme I followed in choosing images for this video.

Steve Gillette's Video for "Back On the Street Again"

Cover Versions of "Back On the Street Again

The Sunshine Company's version of the song can be heard here:

The Sunshine Company

Linda Ronstadt's version with my harmonies is here:

Linda Ronstadt

I recently recorded a new version of the song, available for purchase here.

Here are the lyrics:

I'm back on the street again,
Got to stand on my own two feet again.
I'm walkin' that lonely beat again
Rememberin' when, oh oh, rememberin' when.

Gotta tear in my eye again
To remind me that I might cry again.
Feelin' sad and wonderin' why
Rememberin' when, oh oh, rememberin' when.

I remember a time when I thought the world was mine
The world belongs to somebody else now and I'm just standin' in line

So I'm thinkin' of me again
That's the way it's gonna be again
I'll wait and I'll see again
Rememberin' when, oh oh, rememberin' when.