After a brief, curious stint as the first drummer for the Jefferson Airplane, Spence became the lightning rod of the late, lamented Moby Grape, arguably the greatest American rock 'n' roll band of the '60s that never made it. [I'd vote the Pretty Things that honor on the other side of the Pond.] A more powerful version of the Buffalo Springfield, the Grape combined great singing, great writing and great playing (especially with three lead guitars) into one s--t-hot cauldron of San Francisco R 'n' R. Their dedicated legion of fans (can you tell I'm one?) grab up every little morsel they can find.
On the sessions for their second album, which had been moved to New York to get them away from the drugs and babes in California, the Grape proceeded to record a series of legendary tracks while Spence began his long descent into drug-induced psychosis. This slow ride was highlighted by his attempt to end an argument with another band member by hacking through a door with a fire axe (here's Johnny?).
After being committed to Bellevue Hospital for six months, Spence jumped on a motorcycle in the dead of winter and went to Nashville where he spent a day recording his one and only solo album, Oar, second to none in spaciness and odd beauty. It sold a handful of copies at the time (1969) but has since taken up permanent residency on the Top 20 lists of most major rock critics. It's not for the easily entertained, but it's a gem.
From there, Spence drifted into homelessness and was even interviewed in a park in San Jose, I believe, where he was living in a cardboard box. He only very tangentially had anything to do with the band's reunion efforts but did record a song, Land of the Sun, for The X-Files movie, which typically was so weird they didn't use it in the film. He died of lung cancer about 10 years ago.
Sundazed Music recently released a Spence demo of "Just Like Gene Autry: A Foxtrot," which Moby Grape thoughtfully recorded at 78 rpm for the "Wow" album, making it a bit more difficult to play in a world when most turntables no longer play at that speed. Play that cut, and listen to that manic laughter. You'll understand why this guy was perfect for the '60s but doomed in terms of the real world.
God bless Alexander "Skip" Spence. He left a lot of joy in his troubled wake.
