Houston has a reputation for and kindness toward some music genres more than others. Blues, blues-rock, rap, metal, country and even psychedelia have all flourished in various clubs both still running and long-defunct across the city and its outskirts.
But the Bayou City has never quite cottoned to progressive rock bands, and especially those playing original tunes full of complex movements, multiple instruments, lyrics dealing with space and time, and tunes running in the ten-plus minute range.
In the late '70s, though, one local band of proggers who had paid their dues for nearly a decade seemed poised for a breakthrough; just one more gig, one more demo, one more audition before things could get really, really better. And then -- just like so many other bands before and after them -- Chameleon imploded.
"We had just done some demos at studios and were putting together an album project, and our producer had contacts at Epic Records. Things were looking good," says vocalist/keyboardist Craig Gysler today. "I felt strongest at this point, and we were going to move forward. And then, things started falling apart."
"We were in a quandary," adds vocalist/guitarist Spencer Clark via email from his home in California. "We were out playing two-third covers and one-third originals and making pretty decent money. But we held on to the dream of being a successful original music band...but everyone was tired of the same old stuff, and not getting the big break."
While Chameleon may have called it quits in 1980, the fine 2013 compilation Chameleon Rising (ShroomAngel Records) showcases them at their best from different studio sessions recorded throughout the '70s. And if the former members have their way, this lizard may get to lick again soon.
The story of Chameleon begins in 1969 when Mike Huey (drums) introduced fellow Lee High School student Clark to his older brother, Rick (vocals/bass). The three started a garage band called Evolepoh (read it backwards). When Huey transferred to Lamar High School, he met Gysler. And the now quartet rechristened themselves Lorien, with a sound more akin CSN than ELP.
"We had our first session at Mike's mom's house in the living room, and it was awesome. The piano sounded amazing in our music," Clark recalls. "And then it just snowballed."
Soon, though, the group began listening to more of the progressive rock of the era like early Genesis, Yes, King Crimson, and Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Agreeing to a shift in musical direction, Chameleon was born in 1972.
"In 1970, we discovered the album In the Court of the Crimson King, and obviously we were blown away by its majesty and sophistication," Rick Huey recalls. "At the time, although we loved the music, we still didn't have the chops to go there yet."
"We practiced constantly, writing music, and learning some cover tunes to get us by at gigs," Clark continues. "We had an affinity for our own music and, for whatever reason, Craig and I always wrote music that leaned on prog rather than hard rock, so that's what we built on."
Soon, the band was getting steady gigs as openers for bigger national acts like the MC5, Captain Beefheart, and Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes. They were also regulars a long-gone Houston clubs (often in converted houses) like Damien's, Catacombs, Love Street, Carnaby's, Rounds, and Grand Central.
Rick Huey says that in the summer of '73, Chameleon landed a gig as the house band at the Red Dog Saloon. They played five nights a week, with lots of covers of Led Zeppelin, the Who, Argent, and Trapeze, while also slowly introducing originals. Their audiences seemed to dig the music, even if it was a bit more demanding to experience.
"We always had a crowd, and they weren't there to boogie, they would listen," Gysler says. "And the show kept everybody occupied, with the music and the effects."
Some of those stage effects would include lights, dry ice, costumes, theatrics, and flashpots, the last of which caused one club to ban them when one explosion during a Chameleon show blackened the ceiling.
"We also used flash powder and gun powder, which made a nice 5-foot column of fire," Huey says. "The first night we used the flash powder at Damien's, the club filled up with so much white smoke the place had to empty for 45 minutes. Needless to say, we only used the smokeless gunpowder at Damien's after that!"
The band also had a "Mirror Ball Man" who would pounce around stage in a sparking jumpsuit, his body flailing under and shiny domed head.
While the band had their vision, it was still a challenge to get some bookings. Clubowners were more interested in covers than originals, and then more hard-rock and blues-rock bands than proggers.
"When we got bookings, they didn't pay much money," Clark says. "Those clubowners were raping the poor original bands. But hey, we got to play to crowds that actually kind of listened and more than not liked the music."
Gysler adds the band was always trying to balance their artistic ambitions with live-gig realities.
"It was hard to find something radio friendly from a progressive music standpoint," he remembers. "ELP had 'Lucky Man' and Yes had 'Roundabout.' We were trying to find ways to stay commercial and be successful."
The band hooked up with the Brock Agency, which began getting them gigs around the state. Local radio stations KLOL and KRBE did live simulcasts of Chameleon shows. That was the good news. The bad news is that those gigs found more and more cover songs creeping into the set.
Story continues on the next page.
