These days, obscure 60's sunshine pop bands like the Free Design ("Kites Are Fun") are widely acclaimed by revisionist rock writers. The Association, however, were wildly popular in their day, and their critical reputation suffers accordingly. As usual, the truth, lies somewhere in the middle. Inarguably, the Association were talented, but modestly so. But, they were artistically restless, aspiring to create something grand - something more than mere grist for the pop mill. But, the Association succeeded - both artistically and commercially - when they stuck to the kind of carefully-constructed, immaculately-performed pop that ultimately reduced their hip quotient to zilch.

Consequently, the Association provokes wildly different reactions among collectors of 60's music. For a graphic illustration, read Bruce Eder's slobbering, laudatory biographical essay on the All Music Guide. Then read Richie Unterberger's ironic, qualified endorsement of the band's double-disc anthology, Just The Right Sound (2002). Despite the fact that the Association scored five Top 10 hits (including two #1 smashes), Eder calls them "one of the more underrated groups" of the sixties and lays out a passionate case for the band as unheralded pop geniuses. Then, Unterberger follows with an incisive, 4-star review of Just The Right Sound that places the Association "closer to the Lettermen than Brian Wilson." Ouch!

Long before overeducated smart asses like Eder and Unterberger (and me) began kicking the Association around cyberspace, the Association were merely a band. Founders Terry Kirkman and Jules Alexander originally met in Hawaii, then later reconnected in 1964 amidst the roiling Los Angeles folk scene that would soon give rise to icons like the Byrds and the Mamas & Papas. In fact, members of both those groups occasionally gigged with an embryonic, loosely-organized version of the Association during hoot nights at L.A. nightclubs like the legendary Troubadour.

Eventually, a stable line-up coalesced around Kirkman and Alexander, a six-man group that also included Ted Bluechel, Brian Cole, Russ Giguere, and Jim Yester. Yester was the kid brother of Modern Folk Quartet guitarist Jerry Yester, who would soon produce the Association's sophomore album, Renaissance, and later replace Zal Yanovsky in the Lovin' Spoonful. After Renaissance, Jules Alexander quit and was replaced by former New Christy Minstrel Larry Ramos. Giguere left before the band's penultimate LP, Stop Your Motor (1970), opening a slot for Richard Thompson (no relation to legendary British folkie).

All the Associates wrote songs and played an instrument - in fact, most of them played several. They were accomplished singers, too, though none sang with particular distinction. What distinguished them, then, were their accomplished ensemble vocal arrangements. Nearly every passage was sung by more than one voice - usually two singers in unison on the verses, swelling to polyharmonic glory in the choruses. The end result may have been less sophisticated than, say, Brian Wilson's arrangements for the Beach Boys, but then what isn't? The Association may have only approached perfection when yoked behind surging pop juggernauts like "Windy," but they were endlessly more captivating than the lugubrious Letterman, thank you very much.

That said, most of the Association's repertoire mines a shallow vein, lyrically maudlin and musically tepid compared to stellar tracks like "Windy." Second-tier Association hits like "Time For Living," "No Fair At All," and "Everything That Touches You" are perfectly fine, but there's a reason why oldies radio avoids them like the plague. Given this, the Association's Greatest Hits - a huge success upon release in 1968 and a perennial top catalog seller ever since - is a smart purchase for most fans despite its brevity and lackluster sound. The aforementioned Just The Right Sound is crisply mastered, lavishly packaged, and runs over four times longer than its LP-era counterpart. But, it may be more than most consumers can handle.

The problem is, the broader context of Just The Right Sound (or even Greatest Hits) effectively dampens the impact of the band's handful of transcendent singles. All the same, the expansive, 51-track program of Just The Right Sound affords the listener the opportunity to dig a little deeper - to experience not just the Association's hits but failed singles ("Yes I Will"), album tracks ("Come On In"), and goofy experiments (their cover of Jimmy Webb's "P.F. Sloan") overlooked by the cursory Greatest Hits. A later compilation - The Complete Warner Bros. & Valiant Singles Collection (Now Sound, 2012) - offers much the same thing from a slightly different perspective, including both a- and b-sides of their original 45's, mostly in pristine mono. Deluxe packages like these reveal that the Association were a real band, if not a particularly great one. Sometimes less is more, sometimes not: you be the judge.

Regardless , true sunshine pop fanatics will enjoy the entire Association catalog, which has happily been reissued on CD nearly in its entirety - albeit in fits and spurts. Certainly, their hit-laden debut platter, And Then... Along Comes the Association, produced by sunshine pop svengali Curt Boettcher, and the thornier follow-up, Renaissance, are worthwhile. Both were released by Valient Records in 1966 and, despite the relative dearth of hits on Renaissance, the tiny label was subsequently swallowed whole by big fish Warner Brothers. The next two Association LP's, Insight Out and Birthday (both produced by consummate professional Bones Howe), spawned three Top 10 hits, setting the stage for Greatest Hits, a #4 album that included the new track, "Six Man Band."

But, the increasingly radical chic of the late 60's was hardly copasetic with the soft-peddled pop of the Association. The band began dialing up their pretensions while muting their trademark vocalese. They never graced the Top 10 again.

Each of the Association's later albums holds some hidden treasures, but the band was clearly running out of creative steam. Most interestingly, the group began to explore a new country direction with songs like "Look At Me, Look Me" (from The Association, 1969) - which would sound altogether at ease on a Poco album. After Stop Your Motor (1971), the group left Warner Brothers for Columbia, where they recorded but one album (Waterbeds In Trinidad!). The drug-related death of original member Brian Cole in 1972 signaled the end, though a number of odd tracks would surface over the next decade (all documented on Just The Right Sound). To this day, an ever-shifting cast of Association members both old and new continues to promote the group's legacy on the oldies circuit.

In the wake of the pointedly tuneless grunge craze, the late 90's saw a resurgence of interest of all things tuneful, including power pop, lounge, exotica, and sunshine pop. Thanks to that renascence - and attendant reissues by Collector's Choice and Rhino Records - the Association now enjoy a higher profile than at any time since their 60's heyday. And, revisionism aside, the Association deserve a place in the pop pantheon. Certainly, they cannot be considered on par with bands like the masterful Turtles or even the relatively pedestrian Grass Roots. The point is, the Association are in the same league as those bands, and that's some tough competition. [top of page]