Nilsson’s first RCA album wasn’t a hit, but it showed a versatility that impressed a well-known band from across the pond
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In May 1968, John Lennon and Paul McCartney held a press conference in New York to announce the formation of Apple Corps. During the Q&A, a journalist asked the new businessmen to name their favorite American group. Lennon answered, “Nilsson,” with Paul’s approval. Then, when asked about their favorite American artist, “Nilsson” once again got the nod. Later that day, in another interview, Lennon exclaimed, “Nilsson! Nilsson for President!” Clearly, John Lennon had more on his mind than the English group’s latest venture.
There’s some disagreement about how The Fab Four first heard Harry Nilsson’s music. It may have been through The Beatles’ press officer Derek Taylor or maybe George Harrison, who both rubbed elbows with the singer in Los Angeles in 1967. Whichever way it occurred, after the four Beatles listened to Nilsson’s debut album, Pandemonium Shadow Show, they knew they had had found a kindred spirit. Before long, the group would invite the singer-songwriter over to England to attend a Beatles’ recording session. John just wanted to meet Harry, bringing him out to his home in Surrey to stay up all night talking. Paul had a different request. Could Harry write him a song?
McCartney wasn’t the only person who wanted one of Harry Nilsson’s songs. When he began work on Pandemonium Shadow Show, The Monkees made his “Cuddly Toy” a top 25 hit. Three Dog Night also turned to Nilsson for a tune, earning a gold record for “One” in 1969. Nilsson gave McCartney “The Puppy Song,” for Mary Hopkin to sing on her Paul produced Post Card album. These songs and others have a carefree style, but deep in the lyrics are dark themes that originated from Harry’s tough childhood. “In his lyrics, he drew on a well of personal experience, tragedy, and sadness that was at odds with his appearance and cheerful demeanor,” wrote Alyn Shipton in his book Nilsson: The Life of a Singer-Songwriter. “This underpinned a huge number of his songs.”
It might be tempting to sum up Nilsson’s troubled life from the track “1941.” The lyrics are not completely autobiographical, but it gets some things right, including Harry’s birth year for the title. Harry grew up without his father, who left the family when the boy was young, leaving Harry to believe he had died in the Second World War. He would learn differently years later and the pain of knowing his father had abandoned him found its way into his songs. As in “1941,” Harry would follow a similar pattern with his own son, after he became famous.
Pandemonium Shadow Show isn’t actually Harry Nilsson’s first album. That was Spotlight on Nilsson, released a year earlier and made up of demos and singles he recorded as a struggling songwriter. The RCA debut is Nilsson’s first true LP, a concept album that took over six months to make, something still uncommon at the label in 1967. Working with producer Rick Jarrard and arranger George Tipton, the three crafted sweeping arrangements built around a circus/carnival vibe. Nilsson’s great-grandparents had been circus performers, and the project followed the theme right down to the album title and the elaborate cover artwork. Harry would continue this theme on his second album, Aerial Ballet, the name of his great-grandparent’s acrobatic troupe.
“The subject matter exploring personal loss, early love, and absentee fathers is balanced by one of the most glorious voices in pop music,” is Shipton’s apt description of Nilsson’s early records, and it applies to Pandemonium Shadow Show. Along with “1941,” and “Cuddly Toy,” Nilsson tackles two Beatles’ tunes: “She’s Leaving Home” and “You Can’t Do That,” the latter skillfully naming multiple Lennon/McCartney song titles. The love songs, probably written as Harry’s first marriage was ending, are more heartbreaking than romantic. “Without Her” is the saddest, a quiet track with flute, cello, guitar and piano. It’s one of Nilsson’s greatest songs with covers recorded by several artists, including Glen Campbell, Astrud Gilberto, Herb Albert, Johnny Mathis, and the group Blood, Sweat & Tears. Nilsson would revive the tune himself for a solitary performance, broadcast on the BBC in the early seventies. Sitting on a piano stool, legs crossed, with his face perspiring under the lights, Nilsson lightly plucks a guitar and sings, arguably, the definitive version of the song. The program, first shown in January 1972, also featured an acoustic take of “1941.” Shortly afterwards, Harry’s second marriage would collapse, leaving the singer’s young son without his father.
The album closes with Nilsson’s cover of the Phil Spector US flop single “River Deep – Mountain High,” with a Spector-like backing. Nilsson had worked with the “Wall of Sound” producer previously, co-writing a song with him for the concert film, The Big T.N.T. Show. Despite an impassioned vocal performance, “River Deep – Mountain High” doesn’t quite fit with the other tracks on the album. Still, Pandemonium Shadow Show is a magnificent album, but, unfortunately, not a big seller. Songwriters admired his talent and singers wanted his songs, but the public just wasn’t ready for Harry Nilsson, the recording artist.
Of course, that would soon change. Aerial Ballet contained the million-selling single “Everybody’s Talkin’,” which earned Nilsson a Grammy Award. A few years later, he would create the “Schmilsson” persona and begin making records for a rock audience. “Without You” became a monster hit in 1971 and it earned Nilsson his second Grammy. Neither of these Grammy winners were written by Nilsson, but it hardly mattered. They made Harry Nilsson a pop superstar.
But “Without You” would be the peak and from there the decline began with each new album selling less than the previous ones. Nilsson didn’t always make the best choices for his career. His album of standards with arranger Gordon Jenkins is beloved today, but in 1973, these old songs were still considered “square.” For Nilsson, the seventies were mostly about making records and frolicking with John Lennon and Ringo Starr. He was sometimes called “The 5th Beatle,” although that name was rightfully given to George Martin. In 1980, Nilsson released his last album, and after John Lennon was murdered in December, he made new music less and less.
In his later years, Nilsson worked on stage plays for his songs and recorded the occasional track. One of his last was the standard “How About You?” for the 1991 film The Fisher King. Even though there’s a roughness in his voice from years of extreme living, his rendition is wonderful, and the performance finds the singer back in the element of his pre-Schmilsson records. “Nilsson, who died last year of heart failure at age 52,” wrote Los Angeles Times critic Dennis Hunt after the singer’s passing in 1994, “was partly a victim of his wildly eclectic musical tastes, which ranged from basic rock to folk-rock to flowery pop and even to quirky ditties. Fluent in many styles, he can sound Beatle-esque, slip into a soulful mode or even mimic a crooner of the ‘20s.” Harry Nilsson fit more with the appropriate title of being called “the American Beatle.”