Timothy B. Schmit, driving up Highland Avenue in Hollywood, points towards a house where he rehearsed with Poco when he joined that band in 1970 as bassist and vocalist. "I used to make fifty bucks a week for rehearsing with them," he says, his voice sounding young and awed all over again. "It blew me away that they'd pay me that much for doing that!"
Schmit got a slight raise when, in 1977, he joined the Eagles for their last few turbulent years. He accounted for the band's last Top 10 hit, " I Can't Tell You Why," in 1981.
Timothy has also had hit records as a solo artist, ranging from "So Much In Love," from the soundtrack of "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" in 1981 to "Boys Night Out" in 1987. "Tell Me The Truth," his latest solo album and third since the Eagles checked out, is a brightly-wrapped package of Schmit at his melodic best. It not only recalls his peak performances with Poco and the Eagles, but also reaffirms his strengths as a solo performer.
The new record accents Schmit's alternately sensitive and bold vocal style. Whether capturing a fleeting romantic moment ("Was It Just The Moonlight"), looking for a little honesty ("Tell Me The Truth"), or taking an agressive stab at a fateful collision ("Perfect Strangers"), he comes across as a musician who's confidently sharing his emotions without holding back a thing.
As a kid in Sacramento, Schmit dug Elvis Presley and other rockabilly artists, and his father was a singer and violinist in a trio called the Tune Mixers. But Timothy thought he might be a dancer until, at age ten, his tap dance routine finished second to a rock 'n' roll group in a talent competition. He switched to music.
By the time he was in high school, he was lead singer with a group that, like so many in the early '60's, quick-changed along with the mercurial times. They were the folkies Tim, Tom and Ron; then a surf band, the Contenders; then Sacramento's answer to the Beatles as the New Breed.
The Breed scored a hit single in Northern California, while sharing bills with such fellow fledgling rockers as Sonny and Cher and Big Brother and the Holding Company. "We had a lot of people fooled," he says. "They thought we were really big nationally. But we weren't making much money. We were lucky if we made three digits for the night."
Timothy subsequently learned about two former Buffalo Springfield members, Jim Messina and Richie Furay, and their plans to form a band to be called Pogo. Timothy auditioned, but, he says, his draft status got in the way ("I was in perfect health"), and Randy Meisner got the job.
"I felt horrible," says Timothy, "I thought I'd had my big chance. When you're 20, you feel like you're getting old because your teenaged years are over, and you really are becoming more independent, your successes and failures tend to get exaggerated."
He half-heartedly attended school; his band, now called Glad, was going nowhere. Just as they were about to get somewhere - as Redwing- Timothy heard that Meisner was leaving Pogo, which had become Poco. "I thought, fat chance, they'd already turned me down." He was wrong.
Timothy stayed with Poco for seven years and did stellar work on such albums as "Deliverin'", "A Good Feelin' to Know," "Crazy Eyes," and "Cantamos." But, he says, "Poco was always on the verge of breaking up." It may have been among the first bands to blend California rock and country, but Poco was eclipsed by the likes of the Eagles and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. "There was an envy," he admits. "It's hard to watch all these guys go right by you. Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Bernie Leadon and Randy Meisner were sidemen for Linda Ronstadt, and then they were all over the radio as The Eagles, and our band, instead of going up, was leveling off and slowly heading downward. I was really frustrated."
For fun, he turned to session work, singing on three albums by Steely Dan and letting it be known that he was available. Then, one morning, "I was home. I got a call. Glenn says, 'Randy's talking about quitting.' I said, When? How? Where? Yes!"
"I was jumping," he says. "It just seemed so right. I had no fear." It really was life in the fast lane. "For me, it was one big party," Timothy says, even as he realized that, within the band, trouble was beginning to brew. "The other guys had gone through a lot more years together and had built up a lot of static between each other. I'd been in bands for years, and I know that sometimes it can be like being part of a kindergarten class, little squabbles later turning into larger fights, but I figured they'd get over it." Even when he experienced friction at it's peak, "it still didn't hit me." But when Frey told him that the Eagles were done, it did. "I was really hurt. Everything was going good: the fame, the security... it was gone. It really got to me."
On his own, Timothy made an album with help from some of his Eagles mates. Before beginning his second solo effort, he met with Irving Azoff, who'd managed the Eagles before becoming president of MCA Records. Schmit ultimately signed with MCA in '87 and recorded "Timothy B.," which featured the Top 30 single, "Boys Night Out."
Although he takes easily to the video form, Timothy has yet to tour on his own. "I'm hesitant because it makes me a little nervous," he says with his typical candor. "I was always a band guy: I always shared responsibilities. But, I'm certainly not ruling out any possibilities."
An Eagles reunion, then, would sure come in handy. The idea, initially, was to record a few tracks as bonus cuts for a CD compilation. But, having joined Henley and Frey in several live performances, Timothy thinks something bigger might be in the offing. "Glenn was real hesitant about this," he says, but at one recent get-together, "I could see in Glenn's eyes that he was digging it. Something is definitely brewing. As far as the entire band, I'm honestly not sure."
Timothy doesn't mind being identified as a former Eagle. "I'm comfortable with that." But then of course, he wants to do more.
"People love 'I Can't Tell You Why,'" he says, "but I don't want that to be my only trademark. I would like to have more classically-remembered songs like that one."
There is at least one candidate, he says, on "Tell Me The Truth," which was produced by David Cole and Bruce Gaitsch, with guest producers Don Henley and Danny Kortchmar (the title track), and John Boylan ("In Roxy's Eyes"). "One of the songs I really like a lot is 'Something Sad,'" Schmit says. "You can listen to 'I Can't Tell You Why' once and dig it; this one might take two or three listens. But it really came from my heart, and I sang the multi-layered vocals myself."
"Tell Me The Truth," he says, "is an eclectic bunch of songs that somehow works. For instance, there's a song called 'Perfect Strangers.' It's really big and obnoxious in a way, and it's very well done, but right behind it comes a little Beatle-like song, 'All I Want To Do.' It sound like it came from the "Meet the Beatles" album."
Great harmonies and melodies never go out of style. And "Tell Me The Truth" has much more to offer than simply pretty melodic turns. There are many stretches where Schmit stampedes into forceful rock directions. This music wasn't created by an artist who's looking back. Rather, the album serves as a fresh launching point for Schmit as he rolls into the '90's with an honest take on himself and the world.
Back to Press kits