CASE HISTORY NO. 099: BOB WELCH

It ain’t cool to be into mystic stuff anymore. Know what I mean? Like nobody asks you your sign or talks about all that spiritual claptrap that flourished in the 60’s. I mean, can you imagine finding out that Johnny Rotten is a disciple of Guru Mahara Ji or that Joey Ramone takes off his wig and turns into a Hare Krishna? Unlikely; but you’d better believe that Carlos Santana, John McLaughlin and George Harrison aren’t the only pop stars still interested in highs that aren’t drug-induced. Sammy Hagar was doing songs about close encounters of the third kind—and their spiritual implications —when Spielberg was still making flicks about over-sized fish. Hagar was in Montrose when Bob Welch was still a member of Fleetwood Mac. Today they’re each into solo careers and share a producer, John Carter; a label, Capitol; and some very interesting perspectives on what life is all about.

When I took Hagar’s suggestion and met Welch, I picked right up on the subtle hints he weaves into his conversation. He’d be talking about being in this rock band or about living in the big old Fleetwood mansion or about working with Soupy Sales’ kid in Paris and all of a sudden he would throw in a sly reference to some psychic experiment or drop a thinly-veiled astrological reference. Then he watches how—or if, ’cause he says most people don’t— you react.