{"id":7714,"date":"2026-07-03T21:26:34","date_gmt":"2026-07-03T20:26:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7714"},"modified":"2026-07-03T21:26:34","modified_gmt":"2026-07-03T20:26:34","slug":"shindig-issue-177-the-tokens","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7714","title":{"rendered":"Shindig! Issue #177 \u2013 The Tokens"},"content":{"rendered":"

New York journeymen THE TOKENS rose to fame in 1961 with a couple of oldies staples, before forging a unique path that saw them establish their own record label and publishing company and write and produce dozens of hits and misses, only to see the artistic outpouring of Intercourse<\/em> \u2013 an album born from depression, yet vibrantly coloured by the melting pot that was the \u201968 music scene \u2013 rejected by their short-sighted paymasters.<\/strong><\/p>\n

As the album\u2019s first ever vinyl reissue hits shelves, ANDY MORTEN ties together the threads of their complex story<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Nineteen sixty-eight rolled round with neither of The Tokens\u2019 last two singles \u2013 a curious, fractured spin on Marvin Gaye\u2019s \u2018Ain\u2019t That Peculiar\u2019 and an \u2018It\u2019s A Happening World\u2019-aping revisit of Charles Danvers\u2019 \u201956 oldie \u2018Till\u2019 \u2013 attracting airplay or attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was probably the most depressed I\u2019ve ever been in my life,\u201d Mitch Margo confessed in 1995. \u201cI was so young when I wrote those songs,\u201d he later told Steve Stanley. \u201cIt was therapy for me, out of being depressed.\u201d Yet despite low morale, frustration and depression, Jay, Hank, Phil and Mitch were about to play their wildest card yet.<\/p>\n

First came \u2018Mr Snail\u2019, a March \u201968 single credited to Margo, Margo, Medress & Siegel, on which Sgt Pepper\/Magical Mystery Tour<\/em> vibes are upended by musicians who had clearly been gorging on The Beach Boys\u2019 Smiley Smile<\/em>. \u201cIf I had to name two influences on us at the time, I\u2019d say Brian Wilson and The Beatles\u201d, Phil Margo told Steve Stanley. \u201cWhen I first heard Sgt Pepper<\/em>, I wanted to quit the business. I said, \u2018I can\u2019t equal that. I can\u2019t get near <\/em>that.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0Two months later came The Tokens\u2019 \u2018Animal\u2019, an even more hopped-up slice of avant<\/em>-rock that gives contemporary troublemakers like The Turtles and the aforementioned Zappa a run for their money. \u201c\u2018Animal\u2019 was a #1 record in St Louis,\u201d Phil claimed. \u201cWarners couldn\u2019t get it on the air in other places. KMOX played it. We went to St Louis and we were like superstars.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would make a great record today (2003),\u201d he continued, adding soberly, \u201cMitch writes in very juxtaposed ways. He\u2019ll say, \u2018Drop dead\u2019 one time, then he\u2019ll say, \u2018It\u2019s amazing to be alive\u2019 the other. This is the conflict, I guess, that Mitch lived with at the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not only did \u2018Animal\u2019 bomb, it confirmed Warners\u2019 opinion that The Tokens were a \u201cgood-time, happy group\u201d not a slick modern rock machine with a subtle line in \u201cfuck yous\u201d (\u201cHard-bitten, wise-cracking New Yorkers,\u201d as Stanley reminds us). September\u2019s follow-up \u2013 an inexplicable revival of Trinidadian folk standard \u2018The Banana Boat Song\u2019 \u2013 was clearly another ill-judged attempt to exploit the now-seven-year-old success of \u2018The Lion Sleeps Tonight\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u00a0The Tokens had spent much of \u201968 pursuing their increasingly esoteric, inward-looking craft, with little or no outside interference, at Olmsted Sound Studios on East 54th Street, just round the corner from their office on 53rd. \u201cWe played all the instruments ourselves, except for maybe some horn overdubs,\u201d said Mitch, proudly. When they presented their new album as a fait accompli<\/em>, Warners rejected it outright. They were crushed. \u201cMaybe because we wanted to call it Intercourse<\/em>,\u201d Mitch speculated. \u201cMaybe because there was a cut on there called \u2018Commercial\u2019, which was a commercial for marijuana. Maybe there were things going on that I didn\u2019t know anything about.\u201d Phil\u2019s diagnosis was more prosaic: \u201cI think Warners turned us down because they didn\u2019t expect that kind of music from us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0For all its qualities \u2013 its strangeness, its lo-fi heat, its acceptance and celebration of introspection and mental illness, its occasionally devastating musical and vocal beauty \u2013 the 16 tracks that make up the original, intended Intercourse<\/em>, some as short as 15 seconds, were clearly going to prove impenetrable for a panel of Hollywood suits perusing the new Everly Brothers or Petula Clark album. Yet from today\u2019s standpoint, where once-lost or overlooked artefacts like The Beach Boys\u2019 SMiLE<\/em>, Alexander Spence\u2019s Oar<\/em>, Jim Sullivan\u2019s UFO <\/em>and The Millennium\u2019s Begin <\/em>are now commonplace in our music libraries, Intercourse<\/em> felt like a missing-in-action entry in such hallowed company until CD editions began emerging in the mid-90s and inquisitive listeners opted in.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of personal stuff in that album, you know?\u201d Jay Siegel emoted. \u201cA lot <\/em>of personal stuff. Every song on that album was different, from \u2018Bathroom Wall\u2019 to \u2018I Could Be\u2019. \u2018Some People Sleep\u2019 \u2013 that\u2019s some of the best Tokens harmonies on that song.\u201d<\/p>\n