Mountain – Climbing, 55 Years Later

"55 years later, Mountain Climbing is still one loud mother.

Leslie West: guitar, lead vocals

Felix Pappalardi: bass, lead vocals on “Theme for an Imaginary Western,” “The Laird,” and “Boys In The Band,” co-lead on “Silver Paper” and “For Yasgur’s Farm”

Steve Knight: keys

Corky Laing: drums

produced by Felix Pappalardi

art by Gail Collins

It’s 11:40 AM. There’s toast in the oven and a dog that needs walking, I somehow still haven’t brushed my teeth. And I am running late to my first-ever interview.

I knew this week’s guest was relatively accessible. He’s done interviews for other people’s YouTube channels, but nothing like this. And I really wasn’t sure if he’d want to talk to me. Back in January, I sent an email to his management anyway.

Unbelievable chutzpah on my part, but it paid off! For the first time in Vinyl Monday history, I found someone willing to talk to me and actually be in an episode. Four days after Climbing’s 55th anniversary, I interviewed Corky Laing, drummer of Mountain.

It sure was something to settle into, especially after having one hell of a morning. I awkwardly bumbled through introductions and what the finished video might look like. He asked about the Jimi Hendrix poster behind me, and said I “looked very English.” I don’t know why, but that was just the wind in my sails I needed to get the interview rolling.

Corky and I chatted for almost 90 minutes. We talked about the band he was in before Mountain, the Festival Express, of course West, Bruce & Laing. I tried my best to keep my cool. But as you will see, there were some moments I could not; like when he said he was listening to Bitches Brew when Mountain released Climbing, when I’d just covered Bitches Brew myself. We got through the run-of-the-mill questions. When he took a few puffs of his "morning cigar," I knew I was in. I’ve spent my whole career standing on the shoulders of giants, and for 90 minutes on some Tuesday in March, I got to chill with a giant.

I had quite literally been looking forward to this episode for a year. I found one of Mountain’s live albums, The Road Goes Ever On, at the Northampton record fair last March. I’ll be honest, I picked it up for the album art – the Fool-esque pencil drawing look, tangled swirling vines, and the title written in Elvish. Obviously, I also clocked Mountain’s connection to Cream. This is me we’re talking about here. I’m apparently on the cover of a Blind Faith bootleg album? If something crosses through the Eric Clapton Extended Cinematic Universe, I’m going to pick it up!

Curious, I moved on the studio albums. I tracked down a copy of Climbing last fall and was obsessed. This was around the time of my New York trip with my boyfriend. We listened to Climbing in the car when I picked him up from the train station. I had a live recording of “Nantucket Sleighride” on my monthly favorites playlist; on constant rotation in our hotel room. He even bought me Leslie’s solo album (also titled Mountain) when I found it in Rough Trade’s rare records bin. (A boyfriend buying you a fave rave’s album? Now that’s a real man.) I reached out to Corky’s manager in January, interviewed Corky in March, and here we are in April of the next year. This episode was cooking away for a full twelve months!

If you ask me, this was well worth the wait. Climbing is genuinely one of my favorite albums of the 1970s. When I say that people go,

“Wh- erhm...Mountain? Who’s Mountain?”

“Oh, you know. ‘Mississippi Queen!’”

“Ohhhh I know that one…Wait, there was an album?”

Mountain could never quite follow up Climbing and their signature song, Mississippi Queen. Both have largely missed out on the Rolling Stone-adjacent retrospective accolades, and the “classic rock community” has all but forgotten these guys. What set Mountain apart? For one, their bandleader was especially knowledgable about how to make, produce, and promote music. About Felix, Leslie said: “...I don’t think there are any geniuses, but I do think his knowledge of music was incredible.” He had a classical music sensibility which he infused into his music. His affinity for the Middle East made its way into Mountain’s output from Nantucket Sleighride onwards – not prog, but progressive. At a certain point, it dawns on you that Felix might’ve had equal influence on Cream to Cream’s influence on Mountain. Rock-and-roll is a symbiotic relationship, an endless energy exchange.

This principle applies to any great band: whole is more than the sum of its parts. Watching the live appearances Corky and I spoke about – PBS’s The Show, Beat Club – Jesus these guys were a force! You see it in the sweat on their brows. They did not half-ass it. Even Steve in his quiet demeanor, his energy flows right into it.

Above: Mountain's very first live performance; playing "Mississippi Queen" and "Theme For an Imaginary Western" on PBS's The Show out of Hershey, Pennsylvania. Apparently Felix got in an argument with fellow guest Al Capp!

Having two singers in the band was a tremendous asset for Mountain. It blows the possibilities for repertoire wide open. They could go heavy, they could go folk, they could go blues. Speaking of the blues...the West is the best. Of course I’m a Leslie West Girlie. Are you kidding? He looked like this, he sounded like that, and he was funny as hell. It’s a no-brainer. And a guitarist too? That’s not fair, man. That’s my cheat code!

But seriously. Leslie’s playing is the definition of quality over quantity and that trait is not lost on me. As we move farther into the ’70s, we have a whole lot of guitarists playing a whole lot of notes while having nothing to say with them. That was not Leslie. I believe it was Felix who gave him the instrument he’d be known for: the Les Paul Jr. Through all his little inflections and big solos on Climbing, one might say Les is in the ranks of men could make a Les Paul cry.

The power of the Les Paul Jr. is exalted on Mountain’s signature song and Climbing’s opener, “Mississippi Queen.” Corky told me in great detail how this song came to be – I know he’s gotta be tired of it after 55 years, but I’m grateful he indulged me.

AD: “We’re gonna get the big one out of the way first…”

CL: “The big one!”

AD: “You are probably so sick of telling this story, but I’m not sick of hearing it, tell us the story of how ‘Mississippi Queen’ happened.”

CL: “Okay. It’s been...fifty-odd years I’ve been telling this story. The thing about this story is it’s true, okay?”

It reads like a scene from a rock-and-roll biopic. In August of 1969, a young Canadian drummer finds himself on the island of Nantucket with his band, Energy. They’re playing a real old-school, “funky” club, and it’s one of the hottest weekends of the year. It was the first year the island had air conditioning, so no one knew how to use it yet. The whole island is running their A/C units all at once. All of a sudden, in the middle of “Up On Cripple Creek,” the whole island’s power grid goes down. All of Energy is SOL – except for their drummer, Corky. The emergency light kicks on. Like a spotlight, it shines directly on his buddy’s very hot girlfriend. “I think her name was Molly.” She came up from Mississippi to visit. She’s dancing, she’s wearing a see-through dress, she’s sweating, I told you this read like a film scene. He flips “Up On Cripple Creek,” employs hefty use of his cowbell, and makes a bid for her affection:

“Hey! Mississippi! Mississippi Queen!”

She notices. He’s got one job now: keep her dancing. Just hammer away at that cowbell and see what happens. His efforts failed...kind of. Molly’s boyfriend took her home that night, but Corky took home the lyric.

While Corky’s trying to get with the Queen, his song “Who Am I But You and the Sun” made its debut at Woodstock thanks to the Great Fatsby himself, Leslie West, and his group. We know that song better as For Yasgur’s Farm. Though Leslie’s group was 3/4 of what would become Mountain, they didn’t formally have a name yet. This Billboard issue from August 23rd only calls them “The Windfall Records group, sometimes called Mountain, the title of their first album…” Leslie’s drummer at Woodstock, Norman Smart, just wasn’t cutting it. As put by Corky,

“You don’t turn around and tell a guy like Leslie, ‘Could you turn it down?’ No. Boom! (Norman’s) out the fuckin’ door.”

What’s the connection here? The Felix Pappalardi of it all. While producing Cream’s Disraeli Gears, he was in Middle Eastern rock group The Devil’s Anvil with keyboardist Steve Knight. He’d produced both Leslie’s old group The Vagrants, his solo debut, Mountain, and Corky’s group Energy. All it took for Corky to jump ship to Mountain was Felix vaguely asking, “Can you handle the gig?”

Flash forward a few months and it’s time to record Climbing. Sessions were a blur: ten-hour rehearsals in a loft in the city, all of two weeks in the studio, and a whole lot of bagels and cream cheese. Leslie had that punishing eighteen-wheeler riff, Corky had the lyrics from that weekend in Nantucket, and another one of his buddies had the missing line: “Way down around Vicksburg.” Felix wasn’t sure about this song at first; it took fourteen takes to convince him. The first was the money take, and “Mississippi Queen” was born. All the more remarkable: who was next door but Jimi Hendrix, assembling his Band of Gypsys album. He was the first person to hear the completed “Mississippi Queen.” His response? A nod of approval. He simply said, “...cool.”

“The Queen,” as Corky calls it, kicks off with that iconic cowbell. Thank you Corky, I hope you call your accountant every time you hear that. That’s the Queen’s personality right there: keep her dancing. Not a moment too soon, Leslie rips into that punishing eighteen-wheeler riff.

“Thanks to my first record company check, I had this huge apartment on Park Avenue. I thought, now that i have this place, I’d better do something to keep it.”

(quoted from: Joe Bosso, "Leslie West Explains Why "Mississippi Queen" Is a Stone-Cold Classic." Guitar Player, 12/22/2022.

After a year of drifting away from Climbing and coming back to it, I still sit with my mouth agape, hands on my face, wondering how this is just two guitar parts on “Mississippi Queen.” One part an automatic double-track, one part the overdubbed solos. That’s IT. That’s all he needed to sound Like That. That impossible sound came from an equipment mix-up at his Mountain group’s very first gig: Sunn accidentally sent him a PA head instead of an amp.

This earned Mountain a partnership with Sunn, but I guess the amps weren't great.

To have a tone that sounds Like That, you really should have the voice to match. Leslie had no problem with that. He sounded like if you handed a blues holler a flamethrower. Voices like his don’t exist anymore because you only get to singing that way by shouting over amp stacks; just like drummers like Corky don’t exist anymore because they weren’t mic’d. Once upon a time, it took a lot more effort and more volume to keep her dancing.

Even before I knew the story of the Queen, I picked up on its sexual tension. “Mississippi Queen” is a hip-shaker, that’s the language of music. What else is there to say? It’s tight, with high replay value. Two-and-a-half minutes of muscle, no fat to be heard. This is a perfect rock-and-roll single. (And I know Leslie didn’t like the southern-twinged piano bit at the end, but it’s literally one of my favorite moments of the song.)

Both Leslie and Corky said that Mountain fumbled by not following up “Mississippi Queen” with another hard rock single. Their next single was “For Yasgur’s Farm,” they both said it should’ve been Never In My Life. To which I say: Hello?? Do we all suddenly have Theme For an Imaginary Western-nesia? Why wasn’t this asingle?

In the aftermath of Cream’s messy divorce, Eric Clapton was stuck with Ginger Baker. Jack Bruce won custody of their producer Felix, and he produced his solo debut Songs For A Tailor. On that album is the original recording of “Theme For an Imaginary Western.”

Felix loved the song so much he asked to record it, Jack agreed. Mountain’s “Western” introduces Felix’s singing style to Climbing. It’s more lyrical, dynamic, and folksy. Corky described it as “woman-tone,” not unlike Clapton’s Cream-era guitar tone. Where Leslie sounded like a goddamn freight train, Felix sounded most like Jack. It’d make sense for him to sing lead on “Western,” seeing as it’s a Pete Brown and Jack Bruce-penned song. But Mountain’s arrangement is very different. The strange jazz-like time changes are gone. Felix even tweaks the melody slightly.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to make the connection that “Western” is the story of a rock band; specifically, the story of Cream. Rock-and-roll back then was the wild, wild west. “When the wagons leave the city/For the forest further on,” that’s going on tour. The “painted wagons” are painted buses. It becomes a little more obvious in the next verse: “Oh, the dancing and the singing/Oh, the music that they played/Oh, the fires that they started/Oh, the girls with no regret...” (Hey, that’s me!) The story of every rock-and-roll band – Mountain included – can be found in the next line: “Sometimes they found it, sometimes they kept it/Often lost it along the way.”

“Western” is a more keys and bass-forward recording; I always listen for what instruments are placed where. This much reflects Jack’s original arrangement, as does Felix’s complex, lyrical bassline. Steve is most prominent on “Western.” It’s such a shame, he really is the guy everyone forgets about. “Western” would not be the bittersweet romance it is without his organ washes.

“Never In My Life” returns to the tone the Queen set. There’s even a cowbell!

For all the “American Cream” comparisons Mountain got, there’s one fundamental difference: Cream was three guys soloing all at once. That does not happen with Mountain. Felix does his solos and flourishes through the verses before linking up with the riff. Leslie has his licks here and there. But for the most part, “Never In My Life” is pretty straight-forward. It’s even an “I love my lady she’s so fine” song! No grand love professions to the road anymore, we’ve set those down for a couple tracks. In this sense, Climbing has a bit of an identity crisis. It’s a mountain with two faces: one leaning towards...I wouldn’t say folksier sounds, but maybe somethingmore melody-driven? And one that wears rock-and-roll and the blues on its sleeve.

Silver Paper joins the two faces in harmony. Felix takes the verses, while Leslie cranks away at the call-and-response “Open your heart and let the sunshine in.” It’s the two sides of Mountain in all senses: prominent organ and a lyrical bassline, with hard, driving drums and a strong riff. It even splits the difference between the Queen and “Western”’s run times!

I do not know what’s going on with Felix’s vocals on the verses, but there’s a high-pitched tinny affect on the high end. The whole record has a lot of surface noise on it as well; this might’ve been from recording quickly and cheaply. This becomes very obvious on “Paper”’s call-and-response chorus; Felix has that weird tin trace while Leslie doesn’t. Or maybe he just overpowers it, who knows!

“For Yasgur’s Farm” might’ve made more sense as a single had Mountain been in Michael Wadleigh’sWoodstock film. Alas, they missed out. Leslie indicated it was a result of that managerial game of chess that pulled both Janis Joplin and the Band from the original cut of the film: “We weren’t in the movie, I don’t know what happened with my manager at the time, he probably didn’t get enough money. Who knows?” Felix’s melody on the verses is quite similar in structure to “Imaginary Western.” I don’t know if the both of them together would’ve been viable singles; one would’ve been considered derivative of the other.

Leslie’s chorus, “Look at me, I believe it’s true/You’re a part of me, I’m a part of you” is all the conviction of the Woodstock generation when the dream was still fresh. When Leslie really rips it, I get goosebumps. Climbingwas released on March 7th, 1970. The Woodstock film wouldn’t be out for another three weeks! The Woodstock dream was still in its infancy when Climbing first hit the shelves. Leslie flips “I believe it’s true” into “Can’t you see it’s true?” inviting us into the Woodstock dream. The utopia, “Crystal passing reflecting in our eyes/Eclipsing all the jealousy and lies,” man! A modern listener might relate more to this vision of that weekend on Yasgur’s farm: “Was it me who let you walk away? Were you the one, or is it we’re the same?”

I’ve said it before, looking back on Woodstock is haunting; seeing all that unity and potential languish in the mud. Our failures in the 55 years since are more glaring than ever before, but I can’t help but feel my generation has the most in common with the boomers – for all our powers and pitfalls. Musically, “For Yasgur’s Farm”’sstrongest point is Steve and Leslie’s dueling solos; moving into replaying the chorus without the lyrics. It’s ataste of the sunshiney grand-ness without being quite so on-the-nose.

What is the rule of thumb for interludes? They have to serve the tone of the album. Does “To My Friend” serve the tone of the album? Yes!

I always thought “To My Friend” was played on a mandolin, but according to Corky, it was played on a small-body acoustic gifted to Leslie by Eric Clapton. Leslie kept it in folk tuning until his bulldog, Otis, knocked it over; slipping the B string out of tune. From that day forward, “To My Friend” was in “bulldog tuning.” This interlude places Climbing amongst its peers; “heavy” bands tapping into European folk elements. What else came out that same year and capitalized on that idea very hard? Led Zeppelin III.

Speaking of songs I thought were old folk tunes, I was very surprised to learn The Laird was so political. Felix was quite politically involved at this time; getting into an argument with conservative illustrator Al Capp on PBS’s The Show. Felix wrote “The Laird” about a Black Panther who’d escaped police custody. “His crime was a passion, an aching for peace” and “And the white men keep him” could link this song to most any point in history. Is the laird an escaped criminal? An escaped slave? Is he a religious martyr? Of course, I clocked the reference to the story of Moses: “Let my people go.” It’s an oddball track on Climbing for sure, but it’s simple and beautiful.

We return to formula after our period of introspection with Sittin’ On A Rainbow. It does double-duty, serving as an “I love my lady she’s so fine” song and a song about jet-setting around the world doing rock star things. It’s not lost on me that the first letters of each word in “Sittin’ On A Rainbow” spell “SOAR.” Cute. It extendsthe warm, joyful feeling on “Silver Paper.” Lyrically, it’s a weak spot on the album. Musically it’s light fare as well. This is ground we’ve tread before on this LP, and more effectively. I don’t think Climbing ever quite regains its bearings after “The Laird,” and it’s unfortunate.

Boys In The Band is an odd closer tonally; with its somber piano and unconventional chord progression. It sort of ascends into the air and doesn’t come down. Lyrically, it’s a perfect closer. “Boys In The Band” is about bidding the rock-and-roll lifestyle behind. Whether temporarily or permanently, the listener isn’t sure. The moodis uncertain. The rock-and-roll lifestyle is unsettled, but so is coming home and having to acclimate to “real life” again.

It’s really a shame that Mountain could never quite “get it” again after Climbing and “Mississippi Queen.” They had it, almost kept it, but lost it along the way. Things quickly spiraled out of control after Nantucket Sleighride.Clashing rockstar egos, meddling spouses, you know the story. Most know Mountain as the band with the mustache and the fat guy, known for “Mississippi Queen” and nothing else. I see them as so much more. Theirpotent blend of personalities – a whole lot of larger-than-life figures – have left its mark. Just listen to some the songs that have sampled them: Jay-Z’s “99 Problems,” Kanye West’s “Barry Bonds,” Lana Del Rey’s “Born To Die,” and A$AP Rocky’s “Ghetto Symphony” all sample the same three seconds of “Long Red.” Both Leslie and Mountain have had pop culture staying power through the 21st century.

Though it’s overlooked in the “classic rock community,” Climbing is such a huge record. It reached across 3 decades. They carried the torch of the ’60s power trio from the Experience and Cream; “blues with purple polka dots,” as David Fricke described Disraeli Gears. But Mountain did this with a four-piece. They represented the hard rock sensibilities of the ’70s. They might even lay claim to that amorphous thing called “heavy metal.” The lineage of this bragadocious, in-your-face volume can easily be traced into the decade to follow. Eddie Van Halen. Randy Rhoads. And thanks to zoomers on Tiktok and our ever-unpredictable music listening habits, Mountain have lasted into the 2020s.

There’s something to be said for a band you just can’t get rid of. Each man was perfect for the job, perfectly suited to his role, and did his part to lift the group to a truly enviable position for any rock-and-roll band: ultimate band chemistry. I believe The Mamas and The Papas named that intangible Thing “Harvey.” Mountain climbed the mountain and found Harvey. You swap anyone out and you lose that. Climbing is big, bold, brash, loaded with personality, and doesn’t waste my time. This is one of my favorite records of the decade and most played albums in my entire collection.

About touring the Mountain material through Europe, Corky said:

“It’s amazing because they don’t really speak that language, but they know the music. So it’s kinda like...it transcends all the bullshit. They love the music, I love to play it ’cause I’m able to keep it alive fifty-five years later, which is pretty amazing...I still promote the music of it, and to me, that’s the blessing. That’s all I have to promote is the songs.”

The universal language of music and people who love it. 55 years later, Mountain is still one loud mother. Long live the Queen. Molly, wherever you are, thank you for your service to rock-and-roll. And thank you, Corky.

Personal favorites: “Mississippi Queen,” “Theme for an Imaginary Western,” “Never In My Life,” “Silver Paper,” “The Laird”

– AD ☆

Watch the full episode above!

Bosso, Joe. “Leslie West Explains Why ‘Mississippi Queen’ Is a Stone-Cold Classic.” Guitar Player, 12/22/2022. https://www.guitarplayer.com/players/leslie-west-how-i-wrote-mississippi-queen

Kirby, Fred. “Leslie West Heavy In Ungano’s Debut.” Billboard, 8/23/1969. https://books.google.com/books?hl=fr&id=rykEAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA91#v=onepage&q&f=false

Lombardi, Lou. “Leslie West Interview.” Blues Rock Review, 12/17/2015. https://bluesrockreview.com/2015/12/leslie-west-interview.html#:~:text=We%20weren't%20in%20the,with%20some%20of%20the%20acts.

Ward, Ed. “The Vagrants: A Hot ‘60s Band For Exactly Four Years.” NPR, Fresh Air, 3/29/2011. https://www.npr.org/2011/03/29/134174281/the-vagrants-a-hot-60s-band-for-exactly-four-years

“Bell Distributes Landfall.” Record World, 8/9/1969. https://www.worldradiohistory.com/Archive-All-Music/Record-World/60s/69/Record-World-1969-08-09.pdf

“The Leslie West Interview: Mountain Climbing…The Original King of Tone & Wicked Vibrato Lets It Rip” ToneQuest, 1/2004. https://www.tonequest.com/lesliewest/

“Leslie West - Fillmore Amps & Woodstock (5 of 8).” YouTube, Living Legends Music, 11/11/2008. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf9WRHMB-DE