Then Big Tree Records, funky logo and all, merged with Bell Records. In the
confusion, Lobo's second album,
Close Up, was lost and never released.

For awhile, some music industry insiders figured Lobo was just another in the
long line of “one-hit wonders,” but he proved them wrong again and again!

Today the Florida native is still defying the odds that a truly good guy with a
busload of talent and a normal-sized ego can survive and thrive in the rough-and-
tumble world of show biz, but that’s precisely the story of the guy who shines
through on this exclusive, candid INTERVIEW SPOTLIGHT.

However, there is one thing you must know from the beginning: His name isn’t
really Lobo.

MBY: Do you prefer to be called Kent or Lobo?

KL: Either one. I answer to whatever people call
me. Mainly I’m just Kent unless you’re sending me
a check. Then it’s Roland Kent Lavoie. (laughs)

MBY: We’ll get into the name Lobo in a few
moments, but first let’s go back to your childhood…

KL: I was born in Tallahassee, but I grew up in
Clearwater and Winter Haven where I went to high
school. Basically I’ve lived in Florida all my life.

MBY: You grew up around a lot of music. What
were the main influences?

KL: I grew up in sort of the average household. We had a record player and radios, but it
was really a chance encounter with a friend of mine who lived down the street that changed
things for me. He had just got a new guitar and wanted me to come see it. I did, and as I
went out his back door afterward, I saw that he had thrown away his old guitar. It was a
Dobro. On a whim I asked if I could have it. That’s how I got into playing.

MBY: On a discarded Dobro, no less?

KL: I can’t even guess what it would be worth today if I still had it, but on that day it was
pretty dilapidated, and when I picked it up, my friend said, “It’s gonna be hard to play. Tune
it down so it won’t kill your fingers so much.”

MBY: From the Dobro, you graduated to a Fender Stratocaster. That ended up being your
door-opener, right?

KL: That’s exactly what happened. I had learned to play some on the Dobro, then I bought
a small Duo-Sonic, which is a small student-style Fender guitar with a three-quarter inch
neck. A couple of months later I got a Strat. About that time another friend of mine lived
down the street and had bought a Telecaster. They were getting a band together then.
When they found out I got the Strat, I was in the band.

MBY: This is the band called the Rumours, right?

KL: The first we ever played was for the high school talent show. I think there were 1,200
or so kids there. Back in the Fifties, at least where we lived, there weren’t that many bands
around, so they just went crazy. We were playing Ventures music, and they thought we
were cool. It was unreal!

MBY: Was it one of those revelation moments when you suddenly knew what you wanted to

KL: Not really. That moment was several weeks after that first show when the high school
teachers asked us to play for a party they were having around a pool. We had practiced
vocals, but we hadn’t really sung anything yet. We just did instrumentals because we were
all scared to death to actually sing. At the party we played the first set with nothing but
instrumentals. Then we decided to go ahead and sing the one song we had ready with
words—the song by Ray Charles called “What’d I Say?” So the first words I ever opened
my mouth before a microphone before an audience were, “Hey Mama, don't you treat
me wrong; Come and love your daddy all night long!” As soon as I opened my mouth, I was
an equal to the teachers! It was amazing the transformation these people went through as
they heard me sing.

MBY: They were into it, right?

KL: Yeah, and I just knew instantly that there was something here. I was suddenly a hero to
these school teachers! That was absolutely cool to me.

MBY: How old were you at this point?

KL: Sixteen. I remember that I was a junior in high school, and I was able to drive.

MBY: For many male rock and rollers, that moment of epiphany comes when they realize
they can make money and get the girls…

KL: Or both!

MBY: Both, for sure. But for you it was seeing the teachers respond to you…

KL: I think there are three stages, at least after I saw what happened to the
schoolteachers. First, it was just plain fun to play and sing. The second thing was the girls,
which was a pretty great second thing! The third was the money. They all kind of go
together, maybe, but it seems to happen that way. Really, for me at the time, it was just the
magic of singing a couple of Ray Charles or Buddy Holly songs and suddenly everybody
thought I was something! Obviously this is different from the real musicians who practice a
very disciplined craft, but I was just a kid singing rock and roll, strumming three chords.

MBY: Not bad…obviously since it eventually took you to the four corners of the globe.
What is truly amazing is that in the same high school band with you were Jim “Spiders and
Snakes” Stafford, Gram (of Flying Burrito Brothers fame) Parsons and drummer Jon
Corneal (who later joined Parsons' International Submarine Band). Did you have any clue
back then how far any of you in the Rumours band would go?

KL: Not really. We were so radically different from each other. That’s why we worked well
together. Stafford wouldn’t have opened his mouth for anything back in those days, not to
sing and definitely not to be a comedian.

MBY: That’s hard to believe.

KL: Really…he was a good musician, but nobody thought of him as a singer. When he
finally called me up, after a lot of things happened for me as Lobo, he wanted me to listen
to the songs so I would do them. I said, “Jim, these are good. You need to do these
yourself.” We talked to Mike Curb and the rest is history. But when I went to see him in the
club after he started performing more and more, he started telling jokes and I was
flabbergasted. I had no idea he was that funny.

MBY: How about Gram Parsons?

KL: Well, he’s was a whole other thing. He was an introverted, quiet guy back then. I never
ran into him in the later years, but I talked with a girl who was an assistant engineer out in
Los Angeles. She knew him at the very end, and she described him in the way I knew him
when he was just a kid in the band with me…very moody, kinda sitting back in the corner.
He was scared to death of me because I was a couple of years older than him, and I just
didn’t want to put up with any foolishness. In the band, it was either you came and played,
or you didn’t.

MBY: Still, you have to have some great Gram Parsons’ stories.

KL: We only played a few gigs together.
One of the best I remember is one time
we were supposed to play over in
Cocoa Beach. We had taken my father’s
little home electric organ with us. Gram
had learned the licks to Freddie
Cannon’s “Palisades Park.” That was
pretty radical, since nobody played with
electric organs in a garage band. We
loaded this thing up in Gram’s
Volkswagon van. Gram wasn’t old
enough to drive yet, so he had this
buddy drive him over to Cocoa. The r
est of us arrived, and Gram wasn’t there. We started playing, and he still wasn’t there. I
was ready to kill him! All of a sudden he came walking across the floor in the auditorium
where we were playing. There were maybe three hundred kids there. He was holding his
arm funny, and he looked like someone had beaten him up. I stopped the song and right in
front of everyone said, “Where in the hell have you been?” All the kids were gawking at us.
Gram said, “We hit a (bleeping) cow!” He was like in shock. I said, “What are you talking
about?” We went out front and looked. Sure enough, there was the van with cow’s meat
and blood all over it. I said, “Fine! Load the organ on stage and you can still play
`Palisades Park.’ Then you can go to the hospital.” He did. We played the song. Then he
left for the hospital. It turned out that his arm wasn’t hurt as badly as we first thought, but it
was his foot that was broken.

MBY: A fitting story for a man that would become such an influential and wild part of the
wacky West Coast scene during the late Sixties and early Seventies. Lots of people point
to his influence in both Country Rock and Rock and Roll—running with people like the
Byrds, Eagles, the Rolling Stones (Gram was reportedly the inspiration for the Stones’
classic song, “Wild Horses”) and Emmy Lou Harris, as well as his untimely death at 26.

KL: I’m still amazed. He was nothing like all those things that came along later, running with
the Stones, wearing Nudie suits, the whole drug scene, the UFOs, all the crazy stuff about
his death….as a young guy he was nothing like that.

    In 1964, while continuing to play music at night and attending the University
    of South Florida, Kent met Phil Gernhardt who had produced Maurice
    Williams and The Zodiacs big hit "Stay," as well as “Snoopy and the Red
    Baron” for The Royal Guardsmen. Phil would also go on to produce Dion's
    classic hit, "Abraham, Martin and John." In the mid-1960s, Phil recorded
    Kent (as part of the band called The Sugar Beats), scoring a regional hit,
    "What Am I Doing Here?" (an old Johnny Rivers tune). Phil Gernhardt would
    be instrumental in much of Kent’s coming success. Kent’s 1969 solo single
    on Laurie Records, "Happy Days in New York City" (featuring background
    vocals by The Left Banke of "Walk Away Renee" fame) didn’t do much, but
    the continuing relationship with Gernhardt) led to the next song, one that
    would sent Kent’s career skyrocketing.

    MBY: It’s amazing some of the people, like Gram and all the others that you’ve
    worked with through the years. Let’s jump ahead a little. Would you mind telling the
    story, probably for the one-millionth time, how the song “Me and You And a Dog
    Named Boo” came about?

KL: Actually, I was playing poker with some guys from the neighborhood last night…

MBY: Were you winning?

KL: A whopping two dollars.

MBY: Not bad!

    KL: Anyway in the middle of the poker game, one of the guys asked me to tell
    the story again. I can honestly say that I really don’t get tired of telling it. I had
    gone to New York to record a song at Famous Music for Phil Gernhardt. This
    was before Helen Reddy’s song, “You and Me Against the World,” but it was a
    phrase Phil used to describe the way the world was right then. At the time I
    was playing in a Tampa bar band named Me and the Other Guys. I was
    working on several songs, including a tune about traveling around the country
    with this girl, and I was trying to rhyme “you and me.” Now “me and you” would
    have been easier, but I was trying to do it with proper grammar. I couldn’t find
    anything to rhyme that fit what I wanted to say in the song. Finally, after I got
    back home to Florida, I decided to turn the phrase around to “me and you.” I
    was thinking about it, sitting in a room that had a big sliding glass door
    overlooking the back yard. My big German Shepherd dog, Boo, came running
    around the corner and looked in at me. I said, “Well, now, that’s kinda freaky.
    How about putting `a dog named Boo’ into the song?” That’s literally how it
    came about. All of a sudden the song really started coming together. I hadn’t
    been to any of the places mentioned in the song except Georgia, but I just
    kept putting in places that sounded far away like Minneapolis and L.A.

MBY: And the rest, as they say, is history.

KL: It’s was something else. The song just went off. Since then it’s been discussed in so
many ways as “the anthem about relationships,” “opening the door to Seventies travel
songs,” and “one of the ten worst songs ever recorded.” It’s been dissected and analyzed
to death. Actually, I had no big agenda when I wrote it. It’s just a little tune about going all
over the place. I don’t think it’s the best I’ve ever written, and I don’t think it’s the worst, but
it’s probably the song most people know me by. It’s just a song.

The seminal tune went to # 5 on Billboard’s charts, spending an amazing 13
weeks in the Hot 100. Suddenly everyone in the country, it seemed, were singing
along to Kent’s lyrics:

    Me and you and a dog named Boo
    Traveling and a living off the land
    Me and you and a dog named Boo
    How I love being a free man.

MBY: The timing seemed so perfect for “Me and You and a Dog Name Boo,” the right song
for AM radio in 1971, and one of the most likeable, catchy, sing-along tunes ever. There
were a lot of young people hitting the road in Volkswagon vans and hitchhiking all over.

KL: Timing had a lot to do with it. I’m not sure it would have done what it did ten years
earlier or ten years later. One thing you learn after 35 years in this biz, you never defend
the songs or explain too much. All I know is that young people living today who weren’t
alive when men walked on the moon for the first time or when John Kennedy got shot or
when the Beatles came out—you just won’t understand those times unless you lived in
them. Even though lots of young people hear the song and like it today, it was something
for that particular time in history.

MBY: Yet the song will probably live forever because of the hook. Which brings us to the
big question: Why “Lobo” on the label instead of Kent Lavoie?

KL: (laughs) When we cut it, everybody thought it was going to be a hit, but Phil Gernhardt
advised me to use a different name to keep me from being typecast as a novelty act for the
rest of my life. “Lobo” means "lone wolf" in Spanish, so it seemed to fit the song and
allowed me to sort of hide my real identity.

MBY: The problem was that your plan almost worked too well, right?

KL: From the beginning people always thought of Lobo as a group, not a solo artist. It was
a little weird at first, but as time has passed, it has been a good thing. I still travel all over,
get off the plane, do a concert as Lobo, then go back to being Kent Lavoie. It allows me to
live in a nice neighborhood, work in my own yard, and walk anywhere I want. I could afford
a yard man and a gym, but why pay all that money when I can do it myself, right?

    During the 1970s, Lobo hit the Billboard Hot 100 with 16 singles,
    including the million-seller "I'd Love You To Want Me,” which became
    rose to # 2 for two weeks, spending a whopping 14 weeks in the Hot
    100. Within weeks it became a Gold Record with over a million copies
    sold! Suddenly, though the slow ballad was the opposite of his earlier
    up-tempo hit, people were again singing along with Kent’s memorable
    lyrics that seemed perfect for the times:

    Baby, I'd love you to want me
    The way that I want you
    The way that it should be
    Baby, you'd love me to want you
    The way that I want to
    If you'd only let it be.

MBY: What led to such a different song from “Me and You and a Dog Named Boo”?

KL: I had really started feeling that I had been typecast as a novelty act, as Phil Gerhardt
had predicted. I wanted to write something very different. About that time Nilsson was
having a lot of success with songs like “Without You,” and Mac Davis had really exploded
with "Baby Don't Get Hooked On Me.” I started playing around with a slower guitar sound.
When I finally wrote, “I’d Love You to Want Me,” my friend Billy Michelle offered it to The
Hollies, who were coming off monster hits like “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” and “Long
Cool Woman.” They loved the song, but for some reason they decided not to record the
tune. The timing would have been perfect as a follow up to “Long Cool Woman.” The story
goes that they didn’t like the line, “And when you moved your mouth to speak, I felt the
blood go to my feet.” I liked the line. Thankfully, I wasn’t financially stressed by then, so I
stuck to my guns. I had already re-written and re-written the song. That line was always
one that people really seemed to like. Finally, I said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Probably I
would be making more money if the Hollies had recorded it, from a writer’s standpoint, but I
just was stubborn enough not to change it. Plus they wanted to take half of the writing
credits for it.

MBY: A pesky little detail, right?

KL: Yeah! Anyway, I decided to record it myself. It was the jolt my career needed, so I’m
really glad it turned out the way it did.

“I’d Love You to Want Me” went on to become one of the top all-time hits in many
countries, including # 6 of all time in Germany! Kent followed with his third Top 10
hit, "Don't Expect Me To Be Your Friend," which peaked at # 8 in 1972 and spent
13 weeks on the Hot 100.

MBY: "I'd Love You to Want Me" was especially a huge international hit, but why so big in

KL: Sometimes things happen—good or bad—that you would never think about. This was
one of those times. It was used back then on the most popular television show in Germany,
The Commissar. Somebody was murdered in the story, and as the person was being killed,
the song “I’d Love You to Want Me” was playing on the radio. It was just one of those
amazing things that was written into the story for some reason. Suddenly, the song went to
# 1 there, and it stayed at the top for sixteen weeks!

MBY: Although not as dramatically, perhaps, but the song was big all over the place. Do
you have any idea why it was such a huge hit around the globe?

KL: I have gold records for “I’d Love You to Want Me” from practically every country in the
world that gives gold records. I don’t really know what was so special about it, but it was
obviously a universal theme of love. Who can explain why one song hits and another one
doesn’t, even when you think both are equally good?

MBY: It is hard to explain…and one of the big mysteries of the music business, don’t you

KL: It is. The same reason a listener cannot always explain to you why they like a particular
song is the same reason why you can’t always explain why you wrote it. Sometimes things
just seem to come together at the right time. To me, it’s the beauty of the whole deal.

MBY: That has to be an interesting concept to deal with as a successful writer, trying to
figure out how to duplicate what worked before.

KL: I compare it to a guy who is with a woman who is so far above his head, and every time
he’s around her he feels like, “Aha, the joke’s over. She’s gonna dump me. I’m gonna be
out of here.” In fact, that whole idea ended up being the title song of my album, A Cowboy
Afraid of Horses.:

Two more Top 40 hits came in 1973 with "It Sure Took A Long, Long Time" (went to
# 27) and "How Can I Tell Her" (peaked at # 22). During 1974, Lobo hit the charts
two more times with "Standing At The End Of The Line" (up to # 37) and "Rings"
(went to # 43). In 1975, he returned once more to the Top 40 with a song that
peaked at #27, "Don't Tell Me Goodnight." He then disappeared from the charts
until 1979.

In the late Seventies Kent recorded with Warner Brothers, then signed with MCA
and had a brief comeback on the pop charts in 1979 with “Where Were You When
I Was Falling In Love" which went all the way to # 23.

MBY: As you continued your career, you worked with some truly amazing people. Tell us
about your friendship with Robert John (best remembered for his 1972 version of the
Token’s hit, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and the 1979 song, "Sad Eyes," featuring his
falsetto vocals, which reached # 1 on the Billboard Hot 100.)

KL: Bobby was signed to Famous Music, which is
where I did some recording. He and a guy named
Michael Gately had written a number of songs
together. They were great background singers
together. Bobby did the really high parts on “I
Want You to Want Me.” Everybody thinks it was
a girl, but it was actually him. He was awesome.
It was years later that he had “Sad Eyes.” He was
incredibly talented, and I was really glad he
finally had the huge hit on his own. He’s a really
nice guy. Actually, what I remember about the “I
Want You to Want Me” session was that Bobby just wanted to get the song finished so he
could go to the hockey game that night. He was a huge hockey fan.

MBY: You mentioned earlier about Jim Stafford, who was in the first rock and roll band with
you, the Rumours, as a teenager. How did you end up producing hits for him like “Spiders
and Snakes”?

KL: In the early Seventies, Jimmy was working at a bar in Clearwater Beach. He called me
and said, “I’ve written some songs. Would you listen to them?” I went over to meet him at
the bar. He had a song on a tape recorder. The bar was closed during the daytime. It was
cold and dark inside. When he switched on the song, “Swamp Witch,” I was blown away. I
told him, “Jim, that’s a hit, but it’s a hit for you, not me or someone else. You’ve got to
record it.” Right after that, MGM signed him to a recording contract and I ended up
producing the album. Along the way, MGM found out how good of a comedian he was and
really started pushing it.

MBY: You said that he was pretty reserved back in the old days. By this time was he always
“on” and funny?

KL: I had never seen it too much before, but he was really starting to hit his stride by then. I
remember meeting him in L.A. about the time we were working on the album. He was doing
a club thing for the press, and I went backstage. He and Tommy Smothers were sitting
across from each other at a little bitty table. They were both stumbling over the words in a
funny way, they way both of them do, and it was the most comical thing I had ever seen in
my life. They were slamming each other with one-liners. Everybody around them was
rolling on the floor, but neither Jimmy or Tommy were laughing at all. They were just killing
everybody else with line after line. I think I really began realizing then how funny Jim was.

    Funny indeed. The Kent Lavoie-produced songs were smashes.
    "Swamp Witch" hit the Top 40 (peaking at  #39) in 1973, followed
    by "Spiders and Snakes" (a Gold Record that went all the way to
    #3 the same year). The string continued with “My Girl Bill,"
    "Wildwood Weed," "Your Bulldog Drinks Champagne," "I Got
    Stoned and I Missed It,” "Jasper" and "Turn Loose of My Leg." A
    national television variety series came next. Today he performs
    to packed crowds at the Jim Stafford Theater in Branson,

    Meanwhile, Kent has stayed busy traveling, recording and
    performing all over the world. In the 1980s he formed Boo
    Publishing, Lobo Records and Evergreen Records. He continue
    to produce hit, including country chart-toppers for Jim Stafford,
    Joe Stampley and Christy Lane.

Kent even recorded a country chart hit as a member of Wolfpack (a band that
included Kenny Earle and Narvel Felts) called "Bull Smith Can't Dance The Cotton-
Eyed Joe."

MBY: You’ve had such an interesting career. Some people would be phoning it in by now,
but you seem very enthused about what you are doing. What excites you today?

KL: My wife. My kids. My grandkids. Playing golf. I’m really enjoying recording, too.

MBY: Can you talk about any of the new songs or the album you are working on?

KL: I did one tour of Asia with Air Supply. I really liked the guys. A year or so they made this
album with just guitars, and it sold real well in Asia. The last time I was over there touring,
one of the record guys said, “You ought to do the same thing.” It started some wheels
moving. I got back and started messing around with some songs. Thankfully with Pro
Tools® (a computer recording program) with all its zillion tracks, my guitar and a
synthesizer, and all of a sudden I’m an orchestra! (laughs) What I’ve done is to go back to
where I originally started, which was with an old four-track recorder, an acoustic guitar, and
me. Thankfully it’s a lot better equipment and more guitars. I’ve been able to put some
good songs together. Then I send the digital files to Billy Aerts in Nashville who puts the
backgrounds and drums in.

MBY: You’ve been associated with Billy for a long time in one way or another, right?

KL: Over 35 years. He was part of my band, “Me and the Other Guys” in the late Sixties. He
served in Vietnam, then came back to do all kinds of things. He toured with me. He’s written
music for everybody—Joe Cocker, Kenny Chesney, Holly Dunn, Lee Greenwood, Paul
Overstreet, Susie Luchsinger, Janie Frickie, Jim Stafford, Joe Stampley, Firefall, Cristy
Lane, Judy Rodman, Lisa Daggs and others. He wrote music for the TV show, Remington
Steele. He even wrote the Tampa Bay Buccaneers Fight Song!

MBY: Not bad credentials!

KL: He’s such a great guy. He’s my friend. He performs onstage with me. He’s my manager.
He’s my co-producer. He does everything. Anyway, I send him the files, he puts everything
together, then when he’s ready, I fly up there and we finish everything.

MBY: Will the album be available here in the US?

KL: I know it will be available in Asia and other
areas. You never know how big it will be or how
well the tunes will be accepted, but that’s part of
the fun. What I do know is that its been sort of
like doing it like the old days—me doing pretty
much everything except all the magic that Billy
Aerts does. It’s got a lot of the spontaneity of the
old days with garage bands, writers and singers
that seems to be missing from so much of the
music today.

MBY: Such as the concept of learning to play the music and working your way up, getting a
hit, then an album—as opposed to the five million dollar advertising campaigns for brand-
new manufactured artists?

KL: That’s pretty much the way radio and the music industry is today. You get airplay
because you have a machine behind you, not because the songs are hits. But the public is
missing a lot of the spontaneity and fun we had back in the day.

MBY: There are a few tunes that still slip through from time to time, right?

KL: One was Billy Ray Cyrus and “Acky, Breaky Heart.” It would probably never happen
now. It was so free and different. It is so radical from most of the stuff coming out of
Nashville. I kinda miss that sort of thing. I miss the beauty of not seeing the face that goes
with the song, rather than having instant stars on TV and videos.

MBY: It is a different day, isn’t it?

KL: Remember hearing “Brandy, You’re a Fine Girl…” for the first time. It didn’t matter what
the group looked like. Who even cared what Looking Glass the group looked like? When
they sang, “There's a port on a western bay, and it serves a hundred ships a day…” you
were in the middle of all those lonely sailors who passed the time away and talked about
their homes. Man! The song was magic by itself.

MBY: Or “Wildfire” by Michael Martin Murphey?

KL: Great example. The lyrics and the tune grabbed you. A lot of people can even tell you
the first time they heard, “She comes down from Yellow Mountain;
on a dark flat land, she rides on a pony she named Wildfire, with a whirlwind by her side.”
Awesome! Suddenly you were out there on that cold Nebraska night, riding along with
Wildfire, right? You can’t manufacture something like that.

MBY: You do realize that this conversation is drifting toward, “Well, in the good ole days…”
But what you are saying is true. There are good songs today, yet so much of the music
does lack the spontaneity and courage that marks the really classic tunes that really stand

KL: Definitely.

MBY: Like “Me And You And a Dog Named Boo.”

KL: Isn’t that something? I’m really grateful that some of my tunes have stayed around and
people still remember them.

MBY: Even when your grandkids have kids, they’ll probably be singing the Boo tune.

KL: Maybe. Who knows?

MBY: Speaking of grandkids. Tell us a little about your family.

KL: Susie and I have been married forever. One of our children and three of my grandkids
live here in Florida. Another of our kids and two grandkids live out of state, so we don’t get
to see them as much. They range from eight to two.

MBY: It’s hard to imagine Lobo as a

KL: It’s great. The best part is that
you’ve had a little practice. With all the
mistakes you made with your kids, you
know not to make the same mistakes
with your grandkids. The funny part is
that you wonder why you get along so
much better with your grandkids than
you did with your kids, and the reason
is so obvious. You’ve learned. You
have more patience.

MBY: You’ve always seem to be in shape. Do you do anything special?

KL: Not anything out of the ordinary. I take good care of myself. I try to eat right. I walk
everyday. I work in my own lawn. For me, taking good care of myself is the only way I could
keep doing all that I want and need to do. As it is, I have a lot of energy, and I doing the
stuff that excites me about life.

MBY: And performing?

KL: Definitely!

And hopefully Kent Lavoie will continue to make people happy by performing for
years to come all over the world. Today his albums sell well, especially in Asia and
Europe where he has an especially large fan base. His now-classic tunes are
mainstays on radio stations and Internet DJ programs, and his new songs keep
touching hearts everywhere, crossing generational barriers with seemingly
universal, timeless lyrics and music.

That quite a living legacy for a man known since the early Seventies simply as
Where were you when you heard first the song, “Me
And You And a Dog Named Boo”?

You probably remember the colorful Big Tree
Records label on the 45 single that you rushed out to
buy. Do you recall seeing the funky artwork swirling
around your record turntable as you imagined what it
would be like to be “traveling and a living off the
land” with artist known simply as Lobo who sang the
catchy tune.

It was the first hit for both Big Tree Records and
Lobo, reaching # 5 in the United States and #4 in the
United Kingdom, quickly followed by singles “She
Didn't Do Magic,” “California Kid And Reemo” and
“The Albatross.”
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    ...The Singer Called Lobo
"The Sugar Beats" (left
to right) Kent Lavoie on
guitar, Bill Denman on
bass, Rick Emmert on
drums, Bill Ellington on
guitar (1963)
Kent and Boo (1971)
The incomparable
Billy Aerts
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Be sure to check out
Website dedicated
to Lobo's
unforgettable music,
and while you are
there be sure to visit
new store to order
his latest CD!
An exclusive
interview for
by bestselling author
Darryl Hicks