Connect with us

Lifestyle

50 years ago, 'Come and Get Your Love' put Native culture on the bandstand

Published

on

50 years ago, 'Come and Get Your Love' put Native culture on the bandstand

Founded by brothers Pat and Lolly Vegas, Redbone scored a Top 5 hit in 1974 with “Come and Get Your Love,” launching their Indigenous style and influences into the pop conversation.

Sandy Speiser/Courtesy of Sony Legacy


hide caption

toggle caption

Advertisement

Sandy Speiser/Courtesy of Sony Legacy


Founded by brothers Pat and Lolly Vegas, Redbone scored a Top 5 hit in 1974 with “Come and Get Your Love,” launching their Indigenous style and influences into the pop conversation.

Sandy Speiser/Courtesy of Sony Legacy

Fifty years ago this month, President Richard Nixon was facing impeachment. Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s home run record. Leaders of the American Indian Movement were on trial after the armed standoff at Wounded Knee. And the song “Come and Get Your Love” was one of the biggest hits on the radio.

This soulful pop tune by the band Redbone was, in some ways, related to what was going on politically. It became the first song by an all-Native and Mexican American band to crack the Billboard Top 10, peaking at No. 5 on April 13, 1974.

Advertisement

Since its release on Redbone’s 1973 album Wovoka, “Come and Get Your Love” has been used in commercials, on TV shows including the Netflix series F Is for Family and in movies. The song captured a new generation of fans in 2014, when actor Chris Pratt danced to it in the opening scene of Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy.

Musician Stevie Salas remembers first hearing “Come and Get Your Love” as a sixth grader in Oceanside, Calif., where it came on during a school dance. Salas, who is Apache, has played guitar with musicians such as Rod Stewart, Bootsy Collins, Mick Jagger and Justin Timberlake. He’s also an executive producer on a documentary about Native musicians called Rumble: Indians Who Rocked The World. But back in sixth grade, he had no idea the musicians behind “Come and Get Your Love” were Native and Mexican American — until he saw them on TV.

“Redbone came on and they were all dressed like Natives. I mean, that was just mind-blowing,” Salas recalls. “But at the same time, you’d see people dressed like that, you know, on Halloween. So I don’t know, are they real Indians? It’s like that. But they sure look cool.”

Redbone added a traditional Native intro to “Come And Get Your Love” when the band performed it on The Midnight Special in 1974.

Advertisement


The Midnight Special
YouTube

The pompadour years

Redbone’s founders had always cultivated a striking look, though the decision to showcase their Native culture onstage took time.

Brothers Pat and Lolly Vasquez grew up in Fresno, Calif. According to Pat’s memoir, their mother was Shoshone, while their father had both Mexican and Native roots including Yaqui, Papago and Navajo. Their maternal grandfather was a musician from Texarkana who played Cajun and Mariachi music, and who taught Pat and Lolly to play guitar. When the brothers started playing as a duo, Pat switched to bass.

In the late 1950s, the two started playing gigs in and around Los Angeles, from sock hops to family picnics. After a music industry veteran recommended they change their surname to appeal to white talent bookers, they put a spin on their stepfather’s name, De La Vega, rebranding as Pat & Lolly Vegas. Their stage style in this era was suits and slicked-back pompadours: “We used to get our hair done and all this stuff. We had a real straight look,” remembers Pat Vegas, who, at 83, is the last surviving original member of Redbone. (Lolly died in 2010.)

In addition to the club gigs, the Vegas brothers were session musicians and songwriters. They appeared in the 1967 beach comedy It’s a Bikini World, and teamed up with other musicians to record surf music under the name The Avantis.

Advertisement

Before they formed Redbone, brothers Pat and Lolly Vegas were a popular duo that played in Los Angeles clubs, and on the TV show Shindig! in 1964.

YouTube

The Vegas brothers were successful making music that appealed to the mainstream. But they were also inspired by the Civil Rights movement, and by Native activists who were calling out the poverty on reservations, broken treaties and other injustices. “Our friends were going out there and marching and protesting,” Pat Vegas says, explaining that as entertainers, they wanted to show the world a more accurate depiction of Native people. “Because it was being overlooked. They saw us in Western movies being chased by the cowboys, and we didn’t want to be a part of that. We wanted to show that we had grown and we were part of the future.”

Pat & Lolly Vegas eventually ditched the pompadours, and set out to form a band of all Native and Mexican American players. They were joined by rhythm guitarist Tony Bellamy, who was of Mexican and Yaqui descent, and drummer Pete DePoe, who was Cheyenne. They grew their hair long, and began performing in Native dress on stage. The choice wasn’t just a reaction to the politics of the moment, Vegas says — it was who they were.

“My mom was proud of her Native American roots, and I was too,” he says. “So automatically, we knew what we wanted, and the sound came out that way, and it was beautiful. I just wanted to be real.”

Advertisement

A sound both political and ‘all about love’

The new group called itself Redbone, a slang term that some might find offensive, though the members said they used it to mean mixed race. The band signed with Epic Records and set about creating its own sound, what Vegas has called “Native American swamp rock.”

In 1973, a group of Native activists occupied the town of Wounded Knee in South Dakota — the same site where, 83 years earlier, hundreds of Lakota had been massacred by U.S. soldiers. Pat Vegas says he “felt the struggle,” and wanted to contribute.

YouTube

Advertisement

For Redbone’s album Wovoka, Vegas wrote the song “We Were All Wounded at Wounded Knee.” The song became a hit in Europe, but CBS refused to release it in the U.S., fearing it was too controversial. Vegas has said that he understood the company’s reasoning and that he wasn’t angry (though some scholars, like University of Idaho professor Jan Johnson, have called it a missed opportunity and an example of “historical amnesia” around events that make us uncomfortable).

There was, however, another song on Wovoka that the label thought could be a hit. As Pat Vegas tells it, he and his brother worked on “Come and Get Your Love” late one night in Philadelphia, where they were performing a series of gigs. It was finished the next day.

In his memoir, Pat claims that the song was co-written by the two of them, but that Lolly claimed sole credit for it with the label. He writes that while he was “appalled” and “furious” with his brother, he chose to stay silent, believing that raising a stink would hurt Redbone’s reputation. When I asked how the disagreement affected their relationship, he says, “We got over it.”

‘A sound that was so inclusive’

“Come and Get Your Love” spent 18 weeks in the Top 40 and was the fourth most popular song of Billboard‘s Hot 100 for 1974. In the years since, its presence has continued to echo through pop: The Eurodance group Real McCoy released a club-ready cover, Cyndi Lauper updated her own “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by mashing it up with Redbone’s hit —and, in 2020, Sony’s Legacy Recordings released the song’s first official music video, an animated short by Native artist Brent Learned and producer and director Juan E Bedolla.

Taboo Nawasha of the Black Eyed Peas says Redbone “kicked down the door” for Native musicians like himself.

Taboo Nawasha

Advertisement


hide caption

toggle caption

Taboo Nawasha

Advertisement

In the 1970s, the song’s massive popularity gave the members of Redbone a platform to show pride in their Native heritage. Rapper Taboo Nawasha of chart toppers the Black Eyed Peas says that’s what he, another musician of Native and Mexican ancestry, strives for in his music.

“With a sound that was so inclusive, [“Come and Get Your Love”] was for everyone to come and rock out,” Nawasha says. “Redbone kicked down the door and said, ‘We’re proud to be Native, check us out. We’re here, we’re alive and we’re going to bring that great energy and that good medicine to the world.’ “

Reflecting on the song 50 years later, Pat Vegas says a lot of people think “Come and Get Your Love” is about romance. They’re not entirely wrong — but there’s more to it than that.

“It’s love all around, in every facet and every part of your being, you know?” he says. “And that’s the message: What’s the matter with your mind and your sign? Come and get your love. In other words, where you come from and who you are doesn’t matter as much as what you believe, and what you feel.”

The audio version of this story was edited by Rose Friedman and produced by Isabella Gomez Sarmiento. The digital version was edited by Daoud Tyler-Ameen.

Advertisement
Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Lifestyle

As National Poetry Month comes to a close, 2 new retrospectives to savor

Published

on

As National Poetry Month comes to a close, 2 new retrospectives to savor

W. W. Norton & Company, Alice James Books

Covers of new poetry collections from Marie Howe and Jean Valentine.

W. W. Norton & Company, Alice James Books

With National Poetry Month comes spring flowers and some of the year’s biggest poetry publications. And as April wraps up, we wanted to bring you two of our favorites — retrospective collections from two of the best poets of the late 20th and early 21st centuries: Marie Howe and Jean Valentine.

Advertisement

Howe’s New and Selected Poems makes a concise case for Howe’s status as an essential poet. The New & Collected Poems of Jean Valentine gathers all of the beloved late poet’s work, a monument to a treasured career.

New and Selected Poems by Marie Howe

Marie Howe is writing some of the most devastating and devastatingly true poems of her career — and some of the best being written by anyone. Her subject matter, from a bird’s eye, is simply the big questions and their non-answers: What are we here for? What does it mean to do good? What have we done to the environment? What are the consequences and what do we who are here now owe to those who will follow us? And yet her tone and straightforward delivery make her poems as approachable as friends. Howe is the rare poet whose poems one wants to hug closely for company, companionship, and empathy; and yet they are works of literature of the highest order, layered, full of booby traps and shoots and ladders that suddenly transport one between the words. It’s tough love that these poems offer, but it’s undeniably love.

This first retrospective gathers a book’s worth of new poems along with ample selections from of Howe’s four previous collections, each of which was a landmark when it was published. Her nearest antecedent might be Elizabeth Bishop, who also didn’t write very much, or didn’t publish very much, but everything she wrote was good if not capitol-G-Great. Howe is best know for What the Living Do (1997), which remains one of the great books on youth and grief, regret, and moving forward if not moving on. It regards a world in which “anything I’ve ever tried to keep by force I lost.” Startling, almost koan-like statements like this erupt out of unassuming domestic scenes, making everyday life into high drama.

The typical speaker of a Howe poem is a woman who seems much like Marie Howe, even when she is speaking through the voice of the biblical Mary, as she does in Magdalene (2017): “I was driven toward desire by desire.” She is serious except when she’s funny, though she’s rarely laugh out loud funny — it’s more of a kind of internal laughter, either like blossoming light or paper rustling in one’s chest. She is consoling, except when she is taking herself and readers to task, bowing under the simple, Herculean responsibilities that come with living a life, being a parent. She’s tough, sometimes even stoic, except that in almost every poem there is a moment of surprise, a revelation, a piercing insight that injects a kind of pure ecstasy.

Some of the new poems are among the best Howe has written, making them among the best period. Set “In the middle of my life — just past the middle,” these poems grieve lost friends; reckon with the sudden adulthood of a daughter; lament the destruction of the environment; and take the moral measure of this very disturbing era. Each of these everyday dramas becomes an access point for the deepest kind of human reconciliation, where we must finally admit where language fails us. These poems also feature a recurring character, “our little dog Jack,” who, with all best intentions, becomes one of Howe’s most devastating metaphors. But all metaphors have their root in plain fact. As Howe writes in “Reincarnation,” one of her best poems, “Jack may be actually himself — a dog.”

Advertisement

Light Me Down: The New and Collected Poems of Jean Valentine

This is one of those monumental events in American poetry: the life’s work of a major poet gathered in one big book, an opportunity to revel in all that Jean Valentine accomplished in her long and prolific career. As a young poet, Valentine (1934-2020) won the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize in 1965, for her debut collection, Dream Barker. In 2004, she won the National Book Award for Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems 1965-2003. In between, and after, she was always well regarded by the mainstream poetry establishment, winning most of the prizes available to an American poet.

But Valentine’s real influence was as a friendly ambassador to and from the avant-garde. It’s hard to pin Valentine’s poems down: I wouldn’t call them experimental, but they are anything but straightforward in their slippages of thought and wide leaps of association. Fairly early in her career, Valentine begin working in a style that had her teasing the reader with images, gently suggesting the way the poem should go, until, perhaps, a thunderclap at the end disturbs the calm. She always knows where to end. Pick almost any poem and the last couple of lines will shock you with their unlikely inevitability.

Valentine writes about everything — love, death, sex, the roiling political situations of the last half-century — with simultaneous candor and mystery: “I have been so far, so deep, so cold, so much,” she says prophetically in an early poem. She asserts that poetry can be made almost entirely through suggestion, that the poet must trust the secret links between one word and another, and trust that the reader will be willing to travel with the poet along those underground currents. In a short poem, a haiku from 1992, “To the Memory of David Kalstone,” dedicated to the literary critic who died in 1986, Valentine offers as succinct a statement of her poetics as one could want: “Here’s the letter I wrote,/ and the ghost letter, underneath—/ that’s my life’s work.” Valentine’s poems draw our attention to the words beneath the words, what’s said between them, in all the white space surrounding the poems.

Elsewhere Valentine opts for simple observations, stirred by a bit of mystery, as in the brief elegy “Rodney Dying (3)”:

“I vacuumed your bedroom

one gray sock

Advertisement

got sucked up it was gone

sock you wore on your warm foot,

walked places in, turned,

walked back

too off your heavy shoes and socks

Advertisement

and swam”

There are no sudden bolts of profundity here, nothing, really, that you could call insight, at least not overtly. Instead, Valentine asks an object, the sock, to carry the grief. This is a technique poets call the “objective correlative” — it’s an image that stands in for an emotion or knot of emotions. That unassuming object, or really just the word for it — sock — becomes a vessel, a kind of canopic jar to contain grief, but also to let it rattle around a bit. The poem ends with what might be an allegory for death, but is also a celebration of Rodney’s vitality. The language is as plain as can be, and yet I exit the poem with uncertainty, equally hopeful and despairing. Valentine is an expert at tensing these sorts of contradictions against one another. The emotional climate in Valentine’s poems is ambivalent in the best way, lit by contradictory energies.

And while this book is a monumental celebration of an extraordinary legacy, it is also sad to hold: Valentine was in an inexhaustible and generous force in American poetry until so recently. It feels impossible to accept the fact that she is dead while reading poems that are so profoundly alive.

Craig Morgan Teicher is the author of several books, including The Trembling Answers, which won the 2018 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize from the Academy of American Poets, and the essay collection We Begin in Gladness: How Poets Progress.

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Mike Myers Debuts White Hair in First Public Appearance in Over a Year

Published

on

Mike Myers Debuts White Hair in First Public Appearance in Over a Year

Advertisement

Advertisement

Advertisement

Continue Reading

Lifestyle

In 'Dead Boy Detectives,' two best mates reject their deadly fates : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Published

on

In 'Dead Boy Detectives,' two best mates reject their deadly fates : Pop Culture Happy Hour
The new show Dead Boy Detectives is a spinoff of Neil Gaiman’s beloved series The Sandman – both the comic and the Netflix series. It’s about a pair of detective ghosts (played by George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri) who refuse to move on to the afterlife. Aided by a young psychic (Kassius Nelson), they stick around and solve mysteries that will resolve the unfinished business of other ghosts.
Continue Reading

Trending