Make that the faux Playboy Mansion. When Hugh Hefner conceived his 1969-1970 "Playboy After Dark" TV program, the idea was to re-create a typical Playboy Mansion party within a studio; in this case CBS Television City in Los Angeles.
This clip, from 1970, treats us to the Cowsills as Hef's guests. Surreal pairing, eh? Made even more so by the fact the band chose a religious-themed song for the centerpiece of their set. So how did the nation's First Family of Milk end up performing in this den of iniquity? Turns out, as is revealed at the beginning of the video, that Nanci Roberts - a regular on the show - was married to guitarist Bob Cowsill for six years; a lengthy union by California standards.
A bit of history about the Cowsills: The group - five brothers, one sister and their mother - began in the mid 1960s and soon drew attention due to their unusual mix of family members.
As the Cowsills notoriety grew, it wasn't long before the American Dairy Association took note of the bovine connotation of the family's name and realized they would be a perfect fit to shill their product. Numerous print and TV advertisements pitching milk would follow and proved quite lucrative, although the family members would later concede that the infamous "Romulus and Remus" ad campaign depicting the seven of them drinking milk straight from the udders of cows was a poorly conceived idea.
By 1970 the Cowsills reigned supreme among the existing family bands. While others, such as the Osmond and Defranco families, attempted to topple them, none managed to do so. But all of that would soon change with the arrival of the King Family on the scene. Comprised of some 300 family members going back several generations, the massive singing King Family was determined to ascend to the top and came gunning for the current champs: the Cowsills. What would follow has come to be recognized as some of the darkest days in music history.
In the early 1970s the Cowsills had gathered at their secluded family compound in the mountains of northern California for a much-needed sabbatical. Instead they found themselves relentlessly chased through the hills by torch-wielding mobs of King Family members. It was this harrowing event that marked the beginning of the end; putting a strain on the band that would eventually spill over into their live performances. One particularly troubling incident that revealed the inner strain occurred during a live show in Ohio. While singing the song "Hello, Hello," Susan inadvertently changed the lyric "would you like some of my tangerine?" to "would you like some of my tambourine?" before launching into an impassioned tambourine solo that went on for over 20 minutes while the rest of the band looked on helplessly. While Susan was a virtuoso tambourinist, this was nevertheless uncharacteristic behavior which culminated in her being led from the stage for "observation." But the rest of the band knew the real problem: the stress of dealing with the King Family was taking its toll.
To escape the King Family's reign of terror, the Cowsills eventually scattered and isolated themselves to some of the most inhospitable nether regions of the globe -- from the stagnant, mosquito-infested swamps of Louisiana to the frozen wastelands of Canada. The King Family's ranks would eventually become weakened through inbreeding, but the irreparable damage to the Cowsills had been done.
If any of the above lacks accuracy blame Wikipedia.
So what do we have here? Things kick off with a beautiful rendition of "Where Is Love?" from the musical "Oliver."
The tempo then picks up with their own composition "IIxII" ("Two By Two"). My religious days are blessedly long behind me but that doesn't prevent me from loving this one; it's just a flat out great tune - the sort of tune that defies the bubblegum category the group is so often shoehorned into. They could be singing about washing dishes to this tune and it would still sound great. Barry sings it with such passion and conviction you'd think he'd written the words himself, but IIxII was written by Bill Cowsill (inexplicably under the pseudonym "David Ray"). Bill had left the band the previous year.
By this point in the band's career Susan's spirited dancing to the music had become a show within itself. When Byron Gilliam - a dancer on the program - engages Susan in a dance at 5:29, watch how smoothly she segues from dancing to spinning around toward the microphone and delivering her vocals right on cue. The timing of a seasoned pro! She was very much in her element in this venue, surrounded by other dancers.
The show closes with another good one: "Poor Baby."
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