Danny Partridge:
The Long Road Back
Danny
Partridge may be one of the most misunderstood
and under-appreciated musicians in rock-n-roll.
Hated by critics but loved by fans early in his
career, Partridge has been hated by both groups
ever since, thanks to a decade of personal
problems that affected both his relationships and
his music. But the bad boy of bass has finally
gotten around to recording his first solo
project, "Partridge in a Hairpiece,"
and he’s looking to make amends.
"I
made this record for no one but me," he
says. "Well, for me and my creditors, but
mainly for me."
Having
achieved incredible commercial success as a
member of the Partridge Family, Partridge almost
lost everything due to an insidious addiction to
caffeine. What started as an occasional cup of
coffee in the morning during his teenage years
developed into an eventual $35 a day habit. There
wasn’t anything Partridge did not try, from
organically-grown to cappucino to espresso. When
he couldn’t get coffee, Partridge settled
for colas, Mountain Dew and even chocolate.
"I
was the jumpiest mother you’ve ever seen.
Man, I was racing all the time. I couldn’t
get enough java. When a friend turned me onto
Jolt chasers, well, that about did me in. My
music really suffered. I played everything way
too fast, and many times I couldn’t play at
all because my hands were shaking so much. I got
belligerent with audiences; I yelled at my
family; I bit may nails to nubs. I was a
mess."
After
nine years of caffeine abuse, Partridge finally
sought help and checked himself into the Juanita
Valdez Clinic in El Paso, TX. Partridge spent six
weeks in intensive therapy, and he hasn’t
touched so much as a Tab in two years.
"I
always avoid the coffee aisle at the grocery
store, but I’m still firmly on the wagon.
And my playing is better than ever."
For
years he fought the rumor that studio musicians
were responsible for bass lines on Partridge
Family records, but in actuality Partridge was
the only bassist ever to record, as well as
perform, with the group.
"People
saw me with that bass that was bigger than I was,
and they just assumed that I wasn’t really
playing. It really pissed me off. It was the
hands. The hands, man." Partridge held up
his hands, palms to the front with his fingers
extended to reveal digits of uncommon length, and
gnarled from years on the road playing
rock’s most demanding instrument.
"My
hands were big even back then," he
continues. "That’s why I could lay it
down like I did. Keith noticed it right away. He
got a load of these big-ass paws of mind and went
out and picked up an old Fender in a pawn shop.
He handed it to me and said, ‘Man,
you’re the bass player.’"
By
the time Danny was anointed bassist, older
brother Keith had already become competent on
guitar and was composing his first rudimentary
songs. The two began jamming in the family garage
in Albuquerque to the chagrin of their normally
tolerant mother Shirley, who was pregnant with
Tracy at the time.
"Mom
actually went into labor one night while Keith
and I were playing an early version of ‘I
Think I Love You’ for her. But it was called
‘I Think I Like You’ back then, because
Keith was still pretty shy around girls."
Sister
Lori had been taking piano lessons for several
years before she started playing with Keith and
Danny. At first her classical training did not
mesh well with what the boys were playing. "
She
kind of had an attitude early on. She was trying
to play all this Bach shit, and we were like
‘this is pop, just play some chords!’
But she was a very gifted player. She was really
coming down to our level; we just didn’t
know it at the time."
This
lineup got fairly tight performing Keith’s
songs and impressed Shirley so much she began
subconsciously humming the tunes non-stop. This
eventually got her fired from her job at the
Albuquerque Library, but her unemployment freed
up plenty of time for her to rehearse with the
kids.
This
lineup came to the attention of Reuben Kincaid
while they were playing a Gamblers Anonymous
meeting in Albuquerque. Kincaid was a small-time
manager of lounge acts, game show hosts and
circus freaks, and had been a friend of
Danny’s father, Phil "Party"
Partridge. Kincaid had been a hanger-on during
the early days of the San Francisco psychedelic
scene when he met the elder Partridge, who was a
guitarist who sat in with many of the city’s
up-and-coming bands, including the Grateful Dead.
Partridge had just joined Big Brother and the
Holding Company as a full-time member when he
died tragically of a herring overdose.
"My
dad loved to eat that damned little fish,"
Danny says with difficulty. "One night he
was up with Jerry Garcia and they were writing
songs, drinking gin and throwing down some
herring. It was a bad batch. He ate too much and
his heart just stopped. Garcia told me once that
he gave up seafood altogether after that night,
which is totally ironic, man, because right after
that is when he really started to pack on the
pounds. He turned to cigarettes and roast
beef."
Shocked
by the death of his friend, Kincaid moved to
Bakersfield, CA, where he worked a variety of
jobs, but found the most success as a manager of
professional wrestlers. Kincaid was forced out of
that profession when was overheard telling a
crowd of young fans gathered outside the arena
after a match, "Sure, it’s fake! What
are you, stupid?" After a group of angry
wrestlers left the tail of a sewer rat in his
motel room bed, Kincaid fled to Albuquerque.
"Reuben
had a checkered past. We knew that when we signed
on with him," says Danny. "But Mom
really had faith in him, and he had connections
with record companies. He got us a good deal. You
know, Reuben and I had our moments, but he was a
helluva manager, man. At times I think he just
didn’t respect me because of my age. He used
to run that ‘international law’ garbage
at me all the time. And Keith and Lori called him
‘Reuben,’ but he always made me call
him ‘Mr. Kincaid.’ We were his only
legitimate client, and after the band broke up,
he just went down hill. But I still love the guy,
God bless him."
Kincaid
is now serving a 15-year sentence in the Arizona
State Penitentiary for dealing in black market
human livers.
Chris,
the youngest of the Partridge boys, was the only
reluctant member of the band. He became the
drummer by default and never actually learned to
play. Studio drummers were called in for
recording sessions, and for concerts, a real
drummer played behind a curtain behind the drum
riser while Chris did his best to fake it.
"We
needed a drummer and Chris was in the
house," says Danny. "It seemed like a
natural thing to the rest of us. But he never
showed any interest in playing, and we just
pushed him into it. He felt a lot of pressure to
go along, especially after we started having
hits. In retrospect, we should have just left him
alone."
Chris
spent several years in therapy after the band
broke up and was diagnosed with mild
paranoid-schizophrenia and severe athlete’s
foot. The family hasn’t heard from him for
years, but the last anyone knew, he was a member
of a religious cult in Montana and known simply
as "Raindrop."
Tracy
was barely more than a baby when she first
spontaneously joined the band on stage, banging a
tambourine and humming very loud and very out of
tune. When he saw the incredibly positive
reaction from the audience, Kincaid pushed to
incorporate Tracy into the act immediately, but
Shirley refused. The band had found some success
in clubs throughout the Southwest when she joined
for good, but Tracy never developed any rhythm or
even a shred of singing ability.
"That
was something else Reuben and I really butted
heads over," says Danny. "I mean, I
love Tracy and all, but the ‘cute’
thing only went so far. She couldn’t carry a
tune with a freaking wicker basket. And later on
when Keith and I were trying to take the band
into a heavier direction, a little girl in white
stockings and patent leather shoes was the last
thing we needed on stage.
"My
biggest regret of the whole Partridge Family
experience is what it did to the kids. Chris was
just ‘out there,’ I mean, I think
he’d have been a flake no matter what; but
the band definitely pushed him over the edge. And
Tracy, God bless her, she just wasn’t very
bright. Mom thinks it was all that loud music she
was subject to at such a young age, and I’m
sure she’s right."
After
posing for Hot Rod magazine when she was just 18,
Tracy flunked out of four junior colleges and had
failed marriages with a bull rider, a vagrant and
a grocery store bagger. She currently lives in
Fresno, CA, with her eight kids and sells Mary
Kay Cosmetics.
After
an unsuccessful classical piano career followed
by an unsuccessful singing career, Lori attempted
acting and modeling careers that were also
unsuccessful. She currently owns a wildly
successful gift shop that sells alien-oriented
merchandise in Roswell, NM.
Soon
after the Partridge Family broke up, Danny and
Keith formed their own band called simply,
Partridge. Their only record was roundly panned
as "amateurish heavy metal," "like
wading through mud" and "bird
droppings." Their name also confused some
fans, as many of their live audiences still
consisted largely of families and senior citizens
wanting to see Shirley and the younger kids.
"Our
live show was not for the faint of heart. Those
strobe lights scared a lot of kids, and there
were plenty of geriatrics reaching for the volume
on their hearing aids."
Danny
and Keith agreed that it would be best for both
if they went their separate ways. Keith’s
solo work was generally well-regarded, but never
found an audience other than girls with hickies.
He is currently writing jingles for an
advertising agency in Los Angeles.
Danny’s
next band was an attempt at pomp-rock called
Lords-a-Leaping, followed by a Parliament-style
group called Funkbucket. Both bands were
short-lived, sold only a small number of records
and attracted few concert-goers. His next band, a
punk rock outfit called Rumplepunkskin, was
formed at the height of his caffeine problem.
Danny’s behavior grew increasingly erratic
the two years the band was together. He assaulted
fans, club owners and fellow band members with
regularity, and he once spent 10 days in jail for
142 unpaid traffic violations.
After
Rumplepunkskin broke up, Danny’s downward
spiral continued. He toured the Southwest bar
circuit with a variety of amateur players, but
could never keep a backing band for long.
Oftentimes band members would quit en masse and
Danny would have to recruit musicians out of the
crowd to back him. His last paying gig before
entering the Juanita Valdez clinic was in
Durango, CO, where he earned 53 cents banging a
cardboard box and singing the state song on a
street corner.
"I’ve
left plenty of wreckage along the way, and many
people still dislike me for many different
reasons. If people can’t forgive and forget,
I hope they can do at least one of the two. If
they can’t do either, maybe they’ll
just buy my new record anyway."
Email
Todd Weber
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