On receiving a call from the most prestigious public relations firm in the Los Angeles music world I had but one thought: “Oh shit.” It was. The flack on the other end tried unsuccessfully to interest me in seeing Sugarloaf, failed equally with War (minus Eric Burdon) and was about to hang up when he asked hesitantly, “Say, you wouldn’t be interested in seeing Flash Cadillac and The Continental Kids, would you?”

Flash Cadillac and The Continental Kids! Words to conjure with! Ever since they had shared the bill with The Beach Boys and stolen the show, it had been one of my strongest ambitions to see this band. I agreed gleefully, and on Saturday night when the flack showed up I was decked out in my snazziest duds, ready for some boppin’. The flack, looking more like a greasy hood than a press agent, introduced himself as Chris. We played a few appropriate records, like “Great Balls of Fire”, “Work With Me Annie” and the incredible “Somebody’s Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonite”, a perfect sendoff as we stumbled into the night and Chris’ open ’58 Buick convertible.