The Ghostly Moon Martin - Dead at 74

It’s hard to resist some kind of stupid tag line related to John Martin’s nickname. After all, he earned it by writing songs that referenced the moon, even if he never had a hit song doing it (like “Only a Paper Moon”) or had the audacity to actually rhyme moon and June, (as Keith Reid did in “A Salty Dog.”) If one was known for bad taste (and no, this blogger isn’t QUITE), the line would’ve been “The Eclipse of Moon…”

Actually “ghostly” fits better, because Martin was an enigma to most of his fans. Magazines rarely seemed to profile him, and his record label's bio kept even common details about his life a mystery. Even his age was a secret until the end, and even after. Most obits listed his age as 69. Actually, he lied by five years; he was 74 when he died.

His look was pale and haunted, and it befit the title of his first album “Shots from a Cold Nightmare.” He looked like something one of Jimmy Savile’s victims probably still sees in her nightmares…a long-faced, solemn, pale creature with weedy blond hair. There’s nothing, fortunately, to suggest that Moon Martin was as creepy as Savile, but spooky? You bet. His voice was high and faded, and he was fairly bloodless in his videos.

    The Oklahoma-born songwriter wasn’t initially a singer. I checked what’s available on the early bands he was with, including Southwind, and no, he played guitar and that was it. He worked as a session guitarist on Bridget St. John’s 1969 album “Ask Me No Questions” and Linda Ronstadt’s “Silk Purse” in 1969 and her 1971 self-titled album. He was on “Ululu” from Jesse Ed Davis in 1972. How he transitioned into lead vocals, and managed to get signed to Capitol, I have no idea. I have a bunch of publicity releases from Capitol that were sent to disc jockeys and music editors/writers and they tend to focus on what’s on the albums and not any bio material on Martin.

At Capitol, they were selling his music as a new wave version of 50’s rock of the Chuck Berry variety. “Rolene” and “Cadillac Walk” seemed to be in a parallel universe to Chuck’s “Maybelline” and other odes to cars and women…just deadened and whitened. “Rolene” was a Top 30 hit on his “Escape from Domination” album, and his label was gratified to see him headline in Europe and open for Cheap Trick in America. Having spawned two cover hits from his first album (via Mink DeVille ("Cadillac Walk") and Robert Palmer ("Bad Case of Loving You") and seeing him at least get into the charts on his own via "Rolene" and "No Chance," Capitol took a chance and re-signed Martin for another two-album deal.

They seemed to be pleased to keep Moon Martin a mysterious figure, too. The “Street Fever” press kit didn’t include info on Moon’s private life and interests. The opening line for the “Media Information” sheet that accompanied “Mystery Ticket” was deliberately vague: “Romance and intrigue - your mystery ticket into the shadowy world of Moon Martin, whose lyrical vignettes evoke provocative universal imagery.” Oh. Ok.

Martin’s lifeless singing on “Victim of Romance” (he definitely sounded like a victim, drained of blood) didn't get much airplay, but cover versions helped...impassioned vocals by Michelle Phillips and Lisa Burns (and “Je Suis Victime de l’Amour” from Johnny Hallyday). 

Among other interesting cover versions of Moon Martin songs: “Paid the Price” by Nick Lowe (on “Abominable Showman”), “I’ve Got a Reason” by Rachel Sweet (on “Protect the Innocent”), “My Eye On You” (co-written with Bill House) by Bette Midler on “No Frills,” “She’s Made a Fool Of You” by The Searchers (on “Love’s Melodies”), and “Bad Case of Loving You” by Koko Taylor on “Force of Nature.”

Cover versions helped Martin's bank account, but fans of ill music preferred Moon Martin’s own versions,  and the eerie somnambulistic Dr. Caligari-like musical landscape he created on his very black vinyl. The MTV generation glimpsed him briefly on “X-Ray Vision,” a pulsating, menacing little number that was given a fairly limp and enigmatic visualization where Moon was on a train, some kind of Disorient express....then running down alleys, getting strapped down by a mad interrogator, and...oh, but it was all a dream. Or was it? In his prime, as Capitol publicity noted, he was popular in Italy, Germany and other European countries (more than in America).

The better vintage clips on him seem to be from German TV. Capitol noted in promoting “Mystery Ticket,” that his previous, third album (“Street Fever”) did very well overseas, and it “firmly established Moon as a recording atist of major import in Europe. In France, for example, the single ‘Bad News” enjoyed a run of ore than 20 weeks in the Top 10 on the radio charts. New markets such as Italy and Spain caught “Street Fever,” and chart success in Australia indicdated fans were also jumping on the Moon bandwagon Down Under.” Capitol had every reason to figure the second album in their contract would also do well. Robert Palmer was producing (Andrew Gold also produced a cut) and Martin had managed to become the opening act for some American dates by Nick Lowe’s Rockpile.

What turned out to be the last Capitol album, “Mystery Ticket,” was, as usual, loaded with menacing, dark songs of misery, despair and heartbreak. Fulfilling his chosen nickname-first name, several had moon rhymes. From “Deeper Into Love” — “I raise the curtain to the moon. I see her eyes calling Johnny take me soon.” From “Chain Reaction” — “I fee a heartbreak comin’ on soon. Shadows fallin’ on the moon.” And from “Paid the Price” — “Dark night, dark moon. It came on so soon. I paid the price lovin’ you.” Hmm, no, it wouldn’t have been the same if he’d been called “Soon Martin.”

One song, a co-write with Jude Cole, had a faint touch if humor to it: “She’s in love with my car…she sure ain’t in love with me.” As for the hard-driving, symphonic disaster “X-Ray Vision,” that was actually another rare co-write. It was actually handed to him fairly complete by the Team of Pete Sinfield (the King Crimson lyricist) and Terry Taylor:

“For two or thee years, I had been playing around with the title “X-Ray Vision” for a song, but I couldn’t come up with any story I liked. Then, when I was doing my last European tour, Pete Sinfield and Terry Taylor approached me with a song called, of all things, “X-Ray Vision.” All I had to do was slightly alter the lyrics to make it more consistent with my other tunes, and make minor arrangements changes.”

From there, Moon Martin seemed to take almost a decade off, and re-surfaced on indie labels. He turned up at small venues where camcorder footage shows him to have remained totally stoic and disconnected from whatever audience was or wasn’t paying attention. He looked the same as ever, which at this point might suggest to people a strange cross between Jimmy Savile and Andy Dick.

(When Capitol was sending me Martin albums, I’d never heard of Savile, and Andy Dick wasn’t old enough to buy booze and become drunk and annoying in a bar). However, with more normal hair and in a better mood, he looked and acted far less spooky in the rare interview you can access below.

Like Keith Reid, it turned out that when he wasn’t being elusive, he could almost seem friendly; detached but at least communicative. Actually some of his mannerisms seem a bit similar to Woody Allen’s (Woody in real life, not doing the fake pausing, halting and head shaking).

A friend of Moon's, Sean Householder, gave an insight on his last days, posting it on something called Celebrity Access: "He was 74 years old, and he had become a little frail over the last few years…He went to sleep in a big easy chair in his living room with a book in his hand, a blanket in his lap, and a little glass of Coke on the nightstand next to him. He left this world as peacefully as anybody could ever hope to."

The download:

X-RAY VISION