Laurence Bond Miller

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I first began writing music note for note on manuscript in the summer of 1972.  I was 18 and had no idea what I was doing.  This came as a great relief.  Sure I’d written “songs” before, but these weren’t songs.  These were, hmmm… compositions, which never followed any type of traditional songwriting format, jam packed, chock full of "the absurd”.  For instrumental breaks, instead of figuring out chord progressions (yawn), I would draw hallucinigenic abstractions, to inspire the player.  Why not?

So, I formed a band called MARSH CRABBITTS & His CLAPFOLD PLATUNE that summer, comprised solely of clarinetists & saxophonists.   Although some of us had been trained in school, none of us were particularly proficient on our instruments.  With little composition theory behind me, I began a wonderful time composing beautifully bombastic pieces, using unconventional forms with little expertise.  Several of my band mates also pitched in with their equally "interesting" compositions. 

This band lasted from summer 1972 thru 73. We topped off our short lived career leading The 1st Ozone Parade, spring 1973.  Our picture made the front page on the Ann Arbor News (see above).  We also performed at the 1st Ann Arbor Hash Bash with an audience of jocks and college kids before all the "out of towners" began their annual migratations.  We also triple billed at The People's Ballroom with The Cruzonics and the Hallucinations.

MARSH CRABBITTS & His CLAPFOLD PLATUNE was a loose collaboration of friends and family, as most of my bands tend to be.  We tried desperately to write something significant in the realm of neo-contemporary classical music (indeed a contradiction in terms) with psychedelic improvisation over top.  We took pride in blindly writing everthing out in manuscript, including our hallucinatory artwork to provide insight, motivation, and direction.  Although purely instrumental at it's initial inception, MARSH CRABBITTS & His CLAPFOLD PLATUNE eventually saw lyrics rearing their interesting heads, later, near the end of it's hay day, summer 73.