THE
SCENARIO
Rusty
Waters (nee Brooks): lead vocals, rhythm guitar, harmonica
Dexter
Prescott (Alfonse Dumfries): lead guitar, vocals
Henry
Harold LaBouche: electric bass guitar, harpsichord, vocals
Brian
Free (nee Todd): drums, vocals
The
Scenario was a 1960s American rock ‘n’ roll group that recorded four albums and
several singles between 1965 and 1968, after which a few of the members
floundered with ill-conceived solo enterprises before fading into obscurity.
Like
most bands of the day, their early singles were raw affairs, touching on garage
rock and r&b. Rusty Waters came on as a slightly lustier Mick Jagger on
these 45s, the best of which include “Pleadin’ Heart” and their mod anthem,
complete with harp feedback, “I’m Not Sure.” An early B-side worth seeking out,
“Shakespearespeak” finds the band incorporating harpsichord and hammered
dulcimer, both played by classically-trained LaBouche, into their otherwise
primitive wail.
Their
debut album, “Hear It Is: The Scenario” collects early singles, token r&b
covers (“Mercy Mercy,” “Hitch Hike,” etc.) and the first indications of sharpening
compositional skills. While Waters sang most leads and was the de facto front man,
the band took a democratic approach to songwriting, despite some members being
more accomplished in this area than others. Nonetheless, the group could
deliver the goods, filling their second album, “Intercontinental Breakfast” with
gems like “Sidecar Sally” featuring Waters at his strutting best, the pensive
“Glum-Go-Round,” the nursery-rhyme-like “Mermaids ‘n’ Marmalade” as well as
LaBouche’s deft updating of Beethoven on the pretty-yet-peppy “Fur Lease.” Even
the minor writers in the group, Prescott and Free, held up their end on the
sophomore effort, sweetening “Breakfast” with standout tracks like “The Evil
Me” and “Smile, Smile, Smile,” respectively.
When
the Summer of Love hit, The Scenario were riding high with their psychedelic
trophy, “Dr. Tangle.” That #1 single (in Luxembourg) was the centerpiece of
their ’67 release, the double album, “Candcane Junglegym,” which featured the
group on the cover decked out in candy-striped suits frolicking on a similarly
striped jungle gym flanked by a gaggle of go-go girls in red and white
swimsuits. Nonetheless, the music contained within marked the band in their
prime, ambitious and confident and just teetering on self-indulgence. “Dr.
Tangle” was catchy singalong psychedelia, “Gatilaja” a successful attempt at
Eastern-flavored raga-rock, “Besideways” a blueprint for some San Francisco-esque
experimentation and “Mary Magpie” would’ve made McCartney proud. The album is
not without its faults: “Brian Vs. The Banjo” parts 1, 2, and 3 along with
“Banjo For Sale, Name Your Price” (one installment per side of the ongoing
saga) is inessential piffle at best. In addition, the production throughout the
album can be dated and/or heavy-handed, especially when the songs aren’t up to
snuff. Cases in point: the heavily-phased vocals on “Picorocos Locos” (aka
“Crazy Fish”) or the lengthy flanged wah-wah guitar freakout jam coda of “Sula
Hama Manestra (Exodus).”
However,
as Waters tumbled into heavy drug use and Prescott busied himself with outside
projects related to his newfound spiritual endeavors, the band wound up with a
dearth of good material for what would be their final LP. “Guards of the
Ancients,” released in the spring of 1968, is not entirely without merits: drummer
Free turns in a solid vocal on the melodic “Let It Love,” for instance, but the
good vibes are resoundingly destroyed by Side Two’s one-two punch of Waters’ interminable,
flat lust-funk jam “Midsummer Night’s Cream” followed by Prescott’s long-winded
eleven-minute spoken-word opus, “So Saith The Lord.”
Soon
after their breakup, Waters released a hapless solo album, “Israel Royale,” an
unappetizing mélange of Yiddish melodies and Tom Jones-like crooning, then
delved into a junkie nightmare existence that lasted until the early 80s.
Currently, a clean Waters runs a nightclub in Houston, Texas called “Karaoke Kafe” and
his jukebox is said to contain one of the few hard-to-find original copies of
the first Scenario single, “Cryin’ Shame” b/w “All Day Long.” Labouche turned mainly
to production, overseeing the careers of chanteuse Maudie Lynne and the family
vocal group, The Shermans. He released one solo album in 1975, “Axe of God,”
full of fussy art rock pomp and circumstance but short on substance. Prescott
drifted into obscurity, forsaking popular music for religion but a bootleg
album of his home demos of folksy spiritual material still floats around among
collectors. A handful of the songs are occasionally catchy in their own right
but time has most definitely not been kind to Prescott’s leathery voice.
Meanwhile, Free eventually settled in Los Angeles, becoming a popular
late-night deejay spinning cult favorites from the early days of rock and roll
to the present. He is superstitious about his former band and will only play one
track by The Scenario per show, upon request, on Tuesdays only, and insists
that interns physically handle the actual records. Reportedly, Free will also
leave the room during broadcast. In addition, the final album in its entirety
is strictly forbidden, and Free steadfastly refuses to sign copies of anything
Scenario-related.
| 
