Dwight Twilley 7: The Great Lost Twilley Album

Power pop started getting something of a resurgence in the ‘90s, and thanks to Shelter Records’ distribution deal with the DCC Compact Classics label, the first two Dwight Twilley Band were reissued on CD. Hopefully this was a financial boon for Dwight Twilley, who’d retired from the major label biz a few years earlier, as well as Phil Seymour, who was losing his battle with lymphoma, to which he would succumb in August 1993.

But a few months before that sad occasion, The Great Lost Twilley Album presented an overdue peek into the vaults. This packed CD compiled tracks from their earliest sessions through the drawn-out recording of their two albums together, as well as solo Twilley songs intended for the album that became Scuba Divers after taking so long. These are hardly leftovers; beginning with the original single version of “Somebody To Love”, it’s a non-chronological journey through 25 could’ve-been-hits, including the discarded single “Shark (In The Dark)” and its intended B-side “Please Say Please”, the original mix of “I’m On Fire” and its long-lost B-side “Did You See What Happened”, songs that would be rerecorded for Phil’s first solo album, and other alternate takes and mixes, with most tracks clocking under the 2:50 standard.

The presentation is designed more for listening than strict history, though session details for each track are included. So it’s not really a lost album per se, but a good chance to hear what else had been in the hopper. Most of all, it demonstrates once again how much these guys loved to make records, whether throwback tracks like “I Don’t Know My Name”, slow burners like “No Resistance”, or big productions like “Burnin’ Sand” and “Dancer”.

Thanks to another label switch, The Great Lost Twilley Album soon went out of print and was lost again. Luckily, it’s accessible on all the streaming services, and should be sought.

Dwight Twilley The Great Lost Twilley Album (1993)—3
Current CD availability: none; streaming only

Dwight Twilley 6: Wild Dogs

Just when Dwight Twilley thought he finally found a label that would give his music the promotion it deserved, Wild Dogs was weeks away from being released when the head of the label was busted in a payola scandal that would end up rocking the industry. He was able to get distribution through a subsidiary, but only begrudgingly, and was essentially buried. It’s not likely the album would have sold anyway, given the overreliance on programmed Linn drum machines, sterile synthesizers, and too much reverb (as opposed to slap-back echo) everywhere. Only some of the blame belongs with producer Val Garay, who’d foisted “Bette Davis Eyes” on an unexpecting world a mere five years before.

The sunny piano and swirly strings wouldn’t seem to fit a song with the title of “Sexual”, but there you go. The title track might have passed for an old Dwight Twilley Band outtake if not for the production, which also crippled “You Don’t Care”, another song that deserved a lot better. Kim Carnes joins the chorus of the admittedly catchy “Hold On”, while Phil Seymour is credited with backing vocals on the mildly Beatlesque keyboard-wise “Shooting Stars”—fittingly, as the song is about him—but we can’t hear him.

He puts on his rockabilly voice for “Baby Girl”, and the verses of “Ticket To My Dream” has some of the Halloweeny aspects of similar songs, balanced by the choruses. “Secret Place” begins like an animated sci-fi movie soundtrack, but turns into an ordinary soundtrack; at least Susan Cowsill is high in the mix. “Radio” is pretty much tossed-off, an attempt to hold up that format when video had taken over. It’s back to piano triplets for the mildly doo-wop “Spider & The Fly”.

Despite glimmers here and there, Wild Dogs is a case of decent songs produced all wrong; indeed, the demos included on the expanded CD contain his original demos for eight of the tunes. Had anyone paid attention out there, any of these could have been radio hits, but the album made zero impact, and Dwight went back to Tulsa to concentrate on his family.

Dwight Twilley Wild Dogs (1986)—2
2022 CD reissue: same as 1986, plus 9 extra tracks

Dwight Twilley 5: Jungle

The ‘80s were the best of times for some, and the worst of times for others. Some people successfully embraced new sounds, and others were swallowed by them. Dwight Twilley already knew the guy who invented the Linn drum machine, and he wasn’t so stubborn that he wouldn’t see what synthesizers could do for his career. But while Jungle was something of a hit, it has not aged well.

The dramatic piano intro to “Little Bit Of Love” is a false alarm, as a synth part right out of the Eurythmics playbook drives the rest of the tune. It’s still got a killer chorus, bolstered once again by Susan Cowsill. But people likely bought the album on the basis of “Girls”, which got a lot of play on MTV thanks to its Porky’s-inspired video. (In a clever touch, Carla Olsen lip-synchs the lines Tom Petty actually sang.) “Why You Wanna Break My Heart” is pure ear candy, given new life—and fat royalty checks for its author—a decade later when it was covered for the Wayne’s World soundtrack. “You Can Change It” has a lot of crunch, but the choruses are starting to sound the same; this case, they sound much better in “Cry Baby”.

After a dramatic backwards fade-in “Don’t You Love Her” chugs along inoffensively, whereas “Long Lonely Nights” doesn’t need its minor key synth intro, totally at odds with the rest of the track. Even worse, the title track sounds like a Cars parody until he starts singing. “To Get To You” would be a decent rockabilly track if not for the backing, and the thunderstorm effects are misplaced. The jokey “Max Dog” is silly, but it’s got personality, and it’s welcome, though we don’t know how it took three people to write it.

It’s too bad that “Girls” is still so terrific, as the rest of the album doesn’t live up to it. We blame the era. Indeed, the eventual expanded CD included six outtakes slash demos that were a little more palatable sonically, especially “Forget About It” and superior takes of “Long Lonely Nights”, “You Can Change It”, and “Jungle”.

Dwight Twilley Jungle (1984)—2½
2024 CD reissue: same as 1984, plus 6 extra tracks

Dwight Twilley 4: Scuba Divers

Speaking of Phil Seymour, he managed to get a solo deal with Boardwalk Records, the new label found by Neil Bogart after he had Casablanca taken away from him. Phil made two albums in succession, each with striking striped motifs (and the cover of Phil Seymour 2 was clever in its own way). The first had help from Bill Pitcock IV, and mixed originals, including the mild hit “Precious To Me”, with covers and contributions from Dwight Twilley and future Go-Go Kathy Valentine, while the second sported the first official release of Tom Petty’s “Surrender” and a remake of “Looking For The Magic”. Unfortunately, he just wasn’t a frontman.

But for those who loved the two Dwight Twilley Band albums, they had to tide them over while Dwight waited out his own label woes. When Scuba Divers finally appeared after a two-year delay, his original intentions had been reworked, shuffled, and sometimes left out. Four other producers besides himself were credited. He’d only slightly updated his sound to meet new wave standards, yet the secret weapon was the harmonic gift of none other than Susan Cowsill. (Her brother John played drums too.)

In fact, “I’m Back Again” could allude to his enforced absence, but overall it’s another catchy chorus with Petty-reminiscent touches. “Somebody To Love” had been a teaser single three years earlier; here it’s been remixed and a verse was added, but it’s still terrific. A title like “10,000 American Scuba Divers Dancin’” doesn’t always bode well, but there’s a fun summertime vibe to the tune. “Touchin’ The Wind” has a relatively quiet beginning, but once those handclaps start, they don’t let up. The menacing riff of “Later That Night” just screams girl-group car crash homage, like a less wordy Jim Steinman.

But for the production and the cowbell, “I Think It’s That Girl” could almost be Beatlesque, and we really gotta call out Susan Cowsill again for what she adds to these songs. While it has a rolling piano out of Fleetwood Mac’s “Say You Love Me”, “Dion Baby” is a sneaky tribute to his newborn daughter. Moreover, the mix completely obscures the lyrics of “Cryin’ Over Me”, which sounds like a cousin to “Feeling In The Dark”, and “I Found The Magic” is something of a sequel to the superior “Looking For The Magic”. “Falling In Love Again” has a mild ‘50s sheen, taking to the next level by Steve Douglas’s blaring sax solo.

Despite the single and some MTV exposure, Scuba Divers didn’t blow up the charts. Perhaps people were already busy with Marshall Crenshaw. But he kept at it anyway. There’s a lot here to enjoy.

Dwight Twilley Scuba Divers (1982)—3

Dwight Twilley 3: Twilley

Phil Seymour went his own way, mostly amicably, putting an end to the Dwight Twilley Band, but the man himself simply kept going. Twilley is full of the ear candy that made Sincerely and Twilley Don’t Mind such winners. Bill Pitcock IV is still on board on lead guitar, and one Jim Lewis fills the Seymour role on both bass and drums.

Each of the songs is a Twilley original, and they’re mostly solid. “Out Of My Hands” rivals the Rutles and ELO for a mildly psychedelic Lennon pastiche, and “Nothing’s Ever Gonna Change So Fast” is full of tension and angst. “Runaway” suffers from a mild disco influence, but as long as he was copping the titles of classic oldies, “Standin’ In The Shadow Of Love” sits somewhere between country and western. “Alone In My Room” could easily have fit on Sincerely, and apparently it was of the same vintage.

“Betsy Sue” is a rockabilly pastiche in the same slot as “TV” from the first album, but it’s quickly forgotten thanks to his impeccable Tom Petty impression on “Darlin’” (which also features Phil on harmonies). “I Wanna Make Love To You” is cut from the same cloth, with a girl-group chorus that would never have been allowed to sing those words. “Got You Where I Want You” doesn’t say much, but it’s still catchy, just as “It Takes Alot Of Love” rises above the bad grammar.

Twilley is definitely catchy, but something’s missing. Maybe it was Phil.

Dwight Twilley Twilley (1979)—3
2024 CD reissue: same as 1979, plus 7 extra tracks

Dwight Twilley 2: Twilley Don’t Mind

The Dwight Twilley Band’s debut was a mélange of tracks created in studios on different continents over a few years, but Twilley Don’t Mind was made in one place, and somewhat quickly. While a little more uniform and streamlined, it’s just as solid as Sincerely.

The straightforward rock of “Here She Comes” is a good place as any to start, especially when driving with the top down in search of young girls in wet T-shirts and tight blue jeans. “Looking For The Magic” has Dwight’s terrific natural tremolo vocals with verses that sound like they were made up on the spot. Oh mercy indeed. (Cool trivia: Tom Petty is credited with guitar on this track, but in the clip you can find of them miming the song for TV, he’s holding a bass.) “That I Remember” brings a welcome swagger despite the lonesome lyrics, while “Rock And Roll 47” is another in-joke we don’t get. But then Phil Seymour takes the lead vocal on “Trying To Find My Baby”, possibly our favorite song of the oeuvre.

Perversely, Phil also sings lead on the title track, which almost adds insult to injury, since he’s the band’s entire rhythm section. This comparative trifle of a number is nicely forgotten by the almost grandiose “Sleeping”, which isn’t just the longest track, but even sports a string arrangement by James Newton Howard, who’d been busy the previous couple of years with Elton John. Lest one think the boys were too ambitious, “Chance To Get Away” is a terrific close harmony gold nugget. And while “Invasion” may seem a trifle along the lines of “England” or “TV”, the lyrics reveal some pointed commentary on their professional ties.

By the time the album came out, the Shelter label had been swallowed up by relative upstart Arista, so one could assume Twilley Don’t Mind would have gotten some more legs, even after three singles were released from the album. It still makes a wonderful companion to the debut, and should be sought out post haste. (Sometime in the ‘90s it was decided to swap the opening tracks of each side, which does the favor of getting the title track out of the way early. Also, some but not all CDs also included “Fallin’ In Love”, a lost gem that fell off the original sequence, as a bonus track.)

Dwight Twilley Band Twilley Don’t Mind (1977)—3½

Dwight Twilley 1: Sincerely

Dwight Twilley and Phil Seymour were a couple of nice boys with nice hair from Tulsa who created some of the tastiest power pop (though they despised that term) of the mid-‘70s. With Dwight concentrating on guitars and keyboards, and most of the singing and songwriting, and Phil holding down both bass and drums, together they were the faces of the Dwight Twilley Band, but that understates the nearly constant input of Bill Petcock IV on lead guitar. Both sang, and it takes a while to figure out who’s who. Their debut, Sincerely, provides plenty of catchy opportunities to do that.

It’s always a good idea to start your album with your hit single, and “I’m On Fire” is a terrific place to begin, with riffs, hooks, guitars, everything. “Could Be Love” combines real drums with a machine, and what sounds like a toy organ with a toy piano; clearly these guys had lots of fun making records. Lest you think they’re wimps, “Feeling In The Dark” is much harder rock, with Leon Russell pounding away on piano, then “You Were So Warm” evokes the Beach Boys in harmonies and chords. The title track sounds as lo-fi as anything else, but fun fact: the backwards guitar and bass were provided by engineer Roger Linn, just a few years before inventing his eponymous drum machine.

They’re not all winners, of course. “TV” is an ode to that very technology delivered by a rockabilly vocal; thankfully “Release Me” returns to the girl group sound of “I’m Losing You” on side one. “Three Persons” has layered vocals that disguise the lyrics, but that “love you, love you” chorus always pricks up our ears. With its vibrato falsetto and cliché lyrics, “Baby Let’s Cruise” seems like a parody, but it’s just so damn infectious despite itself. “England” is probably the best example of how the lyrics don’t seem to have any purpose except to fill out the track, especially when “Just Like The Sun” does a better job of conveying an image.

As their friend Tom Petty soon found out, Shelter Records proved to be a false promise for a lot of its artists, so this and other Twilley albums have been in an out of print over the years, with and without bonus tracks. Thanks to the Internet, Sincerely is easy enough to be heard, and should be.

Dwight Twilley Band Sincerely (1976)—3½