Weird Herald | Uncovering the Lost Story of South Bay Psychedelia

Weird Herald, the Los Gatos band that blended folk, country, and rock, may have slipped under the radar in the late ’60s, but their music was too ahead of its time to remain forgotten for long.

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With Guerssen’s recent compilation—a collection of unreleased tracks and singles—the band’s story is given a well-deserved second chance to be heard.

In a conversation with McIntire and Holl, the two bandmates reflect on their time together with both fondness and a hint of regret. McIntire speaks of the band’s early days—when their music was sharp, energetic, and free from the distractions that would later complicate their journey. “We were disciplined, energetic, and pretty damn good,” he recalls. Holl, too, acknowledges the unique chemistry they shared, especially during Andrus’s peak as a songwriter and contributor to the band’s sound.

Despite the hurdles—including Andrus’s tragic passing in 1970—Weird Herald’s music endured, thanks to the tireless efforts of people involved. “It’s been a labor of love,” McIntire reflects. Though their time was short, their sound continues to capture a unique moment in the history of American music.

Weird Herald was the sound of something slipping through the cracks in the ’60s Bay Area scene—too strange for the mainstream, too wild for the folk purists. They were the perfect blend of the jittery energy of psych-rock and the heartbroken twang of folk. Tracks like ‘Untitled’ are pure gold, with Andrus and Bollinger weaving minor-chord mind games, while ‘Saratoga James’ proves they had the harmonies to match their weirdness.

There’s something beautifully tragic about bands that seem to exist just outside of time—too far ahead for their moment, only to be left stranded in the years that follow. Weird Herald is one of those bands, poised to be legendary but swallowed by the swirling chaos of the ’60s scene before they could leave their mark. They existed at the crossroads of folk and psychedelia, with a sound as unclassifiable as it was captivating.

Bill Andrus—lead singer, guitarist, and the heart of the band—was a poet and a musician in the truest sense. A quiet genius whose talents spanned far beyond music, Andrus and the band crafted a unique blend of rich harmonies and complex arrangements that never quite fit the mold. When it was good, it was transcendent. Tracks like “Untitled” reveal a band that could balance tension and release as naturally as breathing. The whole damn thing was “weird” in the best possible way.

But time wasn’t kind to them. Their music was lost, relegated to dust and tape reels that would only be uncovered years later, and even then, it came too late for them to be anything but a footnote. The story is heartbreakingly familiar: the band could have been bigger than life, standing alongside the Moby Grapes and Jefferson Airplanes of their time. Instead, they were swallowed by the void, their music never officially released, and their influence left to fester as myth. Yet, after half a century, we finally have a chance to hear it. The revival of Weird Herald is bittersweet. These long-buried tracks show just how tragically ahead of their time the band was. Listening to them now feels like watching a ghost play guitar—beautiful, haunting, and tragically short-lived.

“We were unique in our fusion of rock, country, and folk, and that Billy Dean Andrus was a genuinely unique talent as both an author and musician.”

It’s truly fantastic to have you here. I’ve been collaborating with Guerssen for a while, and when they told me this was one of the most exciting projects they’ve worked on, I had to dive deeper. How did they first get in touch with you, and are you as excited as I am to finally have an entire album of unreleased material coming out in 2025? It feels pretty surreal, doesn’t it?

Pat McIntire: Pretty amazing, all right. A lot of people kept working on this for a long time before reaching a successful conclusion. Alex contacted me last year, but Bobby Andrus and I had been working since 2017 to release the album however we could.

Your band was born just before the Summer of Love bloomed in late ’66, and I know the members of Weird Herald had their roots planted a bit earlier. So let’s rewind—where exactly were you born, and what was the local scene like when you were growing up as a teenager? How did it evolve as you got older?

Pat: I was born in Minnesota, like Billy Dean Andrus, and lived in Texas and Missouri until landing in the Bay Area (Los Gatos) in 1959. Of course, surfing and surf music were becoming popular at that time, as were folk music and folk clubs. Later, in 1964, the Beatles showed up, and that was that.

There’s often a moment when the spark for music really hits. For me, it was hearing the debut album by Country Joe & The Fish. I’ll never forget when ‘Electric Music for the Mind and Body’ hit me—I knew I had to dive deeper into music like that. Do you remember the first moment you knew you wanted to be a musician?

Pat: Well, I’d always played drums—grammar, middle, and high school marching and concert bands, as well as extremely random jam combos. By 1966-67, given all the excitement and activity around psychedelic music, I thought I’d try a more professional approach. Luckily, friends hooked me up with Weird Herald.

What kind of music was the youth listening to in your hometown back in the day? How did that scene shift as the ’60s carried on?

Pat: As I indicated, the musical environment in the Bay Area was very eclectic, but with the growing influence of blues and rock bands, its focus shifted to electrified guitars, amplifiers, drum kits, and old vans to carry it all.

Before Weird Herald came to life, were there any other musical projects or bands you were involved with? Did any of those ever hit the stage or lay down some tracks? Tell us about it.

Pat: I started banging on pots and pans when I was around four or five years old, then took a few years of lessons and played in school bands. Somewhere in there, I got an old drum set consisting of a large bass drum, one small tom, a snare drum, one cymbal, and a hi-hat. The summer after my high school graduation, I jammed with a kid from San Jose, but nothing came of it. Then, off to college, where I did mostly random jamming until I played with a blues band—à la Butterfield—in Goleta, CA (UCSB). But still no recording.

Bill Holl: I played clarinet in grade school and bass clarinet in my junior high school band. So when two of my high school friends decided to start a band, I joined them as the lead singer and saxophone player, with them on drums and keyboard. We soon added a bass player and two guitarists and started playing gigs.

After several name changes, we landed on The Debon-Aires, and by the time we were seniors, we were playing four nights a week at Big Al’s Gas House in Belmont, CA.

When we graduated in June of 1966, we all went our separate ways for various reasons—one of which was that the drummer, Jim Bowman, and I were getting into the psychedelic scene in San Francisco.

During that summer, I worked for the Post Office and was planning to attend junior college in the fall. However, I was introduced to a guy named Paul Ziegler, a guitar player and teacher in San Jose, CA, who was looking for a bass player. I had played guitar since I was 10, but not in any band, so I decided to give bass playing a shot.

I bought a bass and an amp and started joining Paul at a coffeehouse, The Brass Knocker, in Saratoga, CA, on Friday nights. I attended two weeks of junior college in the fall and decided I wasn’t ready for higher education, so I withdrew from my classes and moved to Los Gatos, CA, where I shared a house in the mountains with a friend of Paul’s named Rick Brown. I started teaching bass at the music store where Paul taught to pay the rent.

I met Pat Simmons at the coffeehouse, where he would play folk songs during our breaks. He was a senior in high school. Paul had previously run a coffeehouse in San Jose, CA, called The Shelter before I met him. One of the performers there was Jorma Kaukonen, who at the time called himself Blind Thomas Jefferson Airplane.

Jorma was part of Jefferson Airplane then, and he and his bass player, Jack Casady, would come down to The Brass Knocker and jam with us on occasion. One of those times, we ended up back at Paul’s place, playing guitars into the wee hours. Everyone had gone to bed except Jorma and me when he pulled a piece of binder paper out of his guitar case and handed it to me, saying, “This is a new song we’re working on.” On the paper were the handwritten words to ‘White Rabbit.’

The Bay Area in the ’60s was ground zero for counterculture, and the music was wild. But were there other forces outside of music—like literature, film, or the art world—that shaped Weird Herald’s vision?

Pat: Interesting question… I really don’t remember specific things or events as influences. Billy Dean Andrus wrote most of the material that we performed, save for the occasional blues tune or jam, so his life experiences would drive this vision. Oh, and then there’s the psychedelic/drugs-in-general-but-mainly-speed environment in which we operated.

Could you share a bit about the members of Weird Herald? How did you all meet, and what kind of chemistry did you have when you first got together to jam?

Pat: Well, I’ll speak to the second iteration of the band that recorded the album: Billy Dean Andrus, Paul Ziegler, Cecil Bollinger, and me. I met the band (Bill, Paul, and Bill Holl) in October ’67. I had just returned to Los Gatos, CA, from UCSB and told friends I was looking for an opportunity to play. Next thing I know, Bill Holl’s girlfriend, whom I knew from high school, tells me that Weird Herald needs a drummer for an Australian “tour.” Well, I tried out and played well enough to slip under the wire. Not a lot of chemistry at first—that developed after Cecil arrived.

What led to the formation of the band itself? And what’s the story behind the name “Weird Herald”? It’s got such a great ring to it—what’s the significance behind it?

Pat: Since that was the name when I joined, I really don’t know.

Bill: Before long, a guitarist friend of Paul’s, Bill Andrus, had gotten out of the army and was looking to join a band. I recruited my buddy Bowman from high school to come and live with me, and Weird Herald was born.

Speaking of origins, where did you hold your first rehearsals? What kind of gear were you working with in those early days—amps, guitars, the whole setup?

Pat: We practiced in the large basement of the Los Gatos Methodist Church—a great practice room. Same gear we used for the duration… Fender amps (Bill = Twin, Paul = Super, Cecil = ?). Bill had a ’50s Les Paul, while Paul used a Gibson 335, I think. Cecil played a Fender Jazz Bass.

At the time, were you completely dedicated to the band, or did you juggle other jobs while trying to make music your main focus?

Pat: I was fortunate in that I didn’t have to work outside of the band initially. After a while, I did work at menial jobs around the area. Paul continued to teach guitar, but Bill and Cecil did not have normal jobs outside of the band.

Could you give us a little peek behind the curtain at the songwriting process in the band? How did those songs come together, from idea to finished track?

Pat: Fairly normal… the songwriter would bring an idea to practice, and we’d create our parts around that. The recorded material was mostly the original songs that existed before I joined.

Bill: We practiced in the basement of the Los Gatos Methodist Church, and that’s where the demo tape was recorded in 1967. Most of the songs were written and sung by Bill Andrus; however, I sang ‘Midnight Hour.’ My favorite is ‘Move Along.’

You recorded a full album’s worth of material, but it never saw the light of day. What was the major hurdle in getting that album released at the time?

Pat: I don’t know…

But then, you did manage to release the promo single with two tracks. Did they catch any attention—maybe some airplay or mentions in the local press?

Pat: Not much… the area radio stations thought that they were too folksy or too country.

What about live shows? Were you playing out often? Can you share some of the bands you shared stages with and the venues you played? I know Cecil mentions that your gigs often felt like “adventures”—any particularly wild, chaotic, or downright bizarre experiences from your time performing with Weird Herald?

Pat: I think that much of this is covered in Cam’s material.

I’m sure you’ve got some unforgettable moments. What were the big highlights of your time in the band? Anything that really stands out?

Pat: Not really… just grateful.

Like many bands from that time, you guys likely experimented with psychoactive substances. Do you think they had an impact on the music you were creating? What’s your take on that whole experience?

Pat: Absolutely. It is what it is.

Tragically, Billy Dean Andrus passed away in 1970 from a heroin overdose after a wild 48-hour party with the Hell’s Angels. Can you shed more light on what happened around that time?

Pat: Not really. I didn’t know much about it until after the fact; even then, there were conflicting accounts. For example, I never got the impression that it was as tidy as one hit of junk. I was told that Bill was very ill due to a bad liver (from hepatitis) and that the doc told him he had to completely give up all drugs, etc., if he was going to make it. Knowing Bill, that probably did not go over well.

Billy’s legacy lived on in unexpected ways, even being honored by Jorma Kaukonen with ‘Ode for Billy Dean’ and Pat Simmons dedicating ‘Chicago’ to him. You guys were clearly part of the scene in a way that others paid attention to. Can you talk about Billy’s influence on the Bay Area music world and what it was like being part of that close-knit group?

Pat: Bill was known and respected throughout the Bay Area scene. I think that Weird Herald had a good reputation overall, but it may have suffered during the last year or so of its existence (1969-70) when things got a bit ragged. I know that I appreciated being part of this special group.

Billy also had a special bond with Skip Spence, often performing as a folk duo, during the folk boom. He even was at his wedding…Best Man. Can you talk more about their relationship and how they came together as friends and collaborators?

Pat: Not really… that was before my time.

“Weed and psychedelics determined the guidelines of the culture”

If you’re comfortable, what do you think led Billy down the path of harder substances? Was it something that was just accepted or overlooked at the time?

Pat: Well, I can’t comment on his demons, but Billy certainly was not the Lone Ranger! They called it the drug culture for a reason; weed and psychedelics determined the guidelines of the culture, so their consumption was expected. Speed and heroin/downers were not condoned but did prove useful from time to time.

Bill, however, tended to overdo the ingestion of any worthwhile product. So, nobody overlooked his binges but could not control them. Also, there was a popular fable that equated artistic dedication with degrees of intoxication, so there was always a justification for getting blotto.

Looking back at the 45, what do you remember about the recording of ‘Saratoga James’ and ‘Just Yesterday’? Where did you record them, and how many copies were pressed? Any interesting stories about those sessions?

Pat: They were recorded very early in the process at the San Francisco Fantasy Studio.

The recent Guerssen compilation features not only the two songs from the 45 but also some unreleased tracks. One of those is ‘Burgundy and Yellow.’ Can you tell us about that track and what it means to you now?

Pat: Well, it is and was just a song I had to quickly learn. I’m not particularly enamored with it.

I’m sure many of those unissued tracks have a certain resonance now that they’re being heard for the first time. What runs through your mind when you hear them today? For example: ‘Saratoga James,’ ‘Untitled,’ ‘David of Bijou,’ ‘Where I’m Bound (Backwards),’ and ‘Canyon Women’?

Pat: First and foremost, I think that we were a pretty good band and that those are good songs. I also am so disappointed that the audio quality/mix is so bad.

‘Untitled’ is such an interesting track—there’s so much creative energy and interplay between Bill and Cecil. Can you walk us through that session? What was the vibe in the studio?”

Pat: I believe that only the three of us were there… not sure about Lou Dorin. I remember that it was almost a jam, at least it was for me (with bongos). I believe it was one take.

There’s a story that the original master tapes of the finished Weird Herald album were destroyed by Max Weiss. Why do you think that happened, and what impact did that have on you as the band?

Pat: Early in this journey, I received the following:

On Tue, Dec 14, 2010, at 5:14 PM, Matt Kapuchinski wrote:
Hi Patrick,
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately, it appears all tapes have been destroyed.
Sincerely,
Matt Kapuchinski

The master tapes’ journey has almost become legendary in itself. Can you tell us the moment you first found out who had them, and how they managed to survive all those years in limbo?

Pat: Max had the master tape until he didn’t; we never had it. Bill’s family (?) obtained a copy of the “master” tape, I think, and made copies via a funky reel-to-reel recorder. I’m not aware of any of us having a better-quality copy since I discussed this with both Scooter Andrus (Bill’s brother) and Bobby Andrus (Scooter’s son).

Given how many twists and turns those tapes took, do you feel it was luck, fate, or sheer willpower that brought Weird Herald’s music back to the surface?

Pat: A lot of effort by determined fans.

What date did the band stop performing together?

Pat: We never officially broke up, so I would say it was Bill’s death. Cecil left the band sometime in late 1969, being replaced by “Bob the Bass.”

Paul Ziegler has been described as the glue that held the band together, both musically and organizationally. How did his contributions shape the band’s direction, both on and off the stage?

Pat: Paul really wanted to be a rich rock and roll star, so he more or less managed the band to stay on track to stardom, which basically meant herding Bill to stay on the right track. Paul was an adequate musician and guitar player; his role was as a team captain, rooting everyone on!

Did members of the band continue playing in other bands after Weird Herald? If so, what were they up to, and are there any recordings of those projects?

Pat: Paul played in Jorma’s Hot Tuna for a while, and I played with Juice Newton and Otha Young for about a year before moving to southern Oregon in 1972, where I played in country bars for seven years. No recordings.

Bill: As I mentioned, I’m currently playing with the Yerba Buena Jub Band. We have a 6-string guitar, two banjo ukes, a 12-string guitar, washboard, stand-up bass, and a jug. I’ve attached a setlist from our most recent gig so you can get a sense of what we’re playing. Mike Billo, who also plays great harmonica, and I sing most of the songs. Playing music keeps me sane and brings me great joy.

Cam Cobb’s liner notes offer such a vivid portrait of Weird Herald’s journey. Did you feel he captured the essence of the band? Was there anything in his interpretation that surprised you?

Pat: Yes… No.

Looking back, what would you say was the highlight of your time with the band? Which songs are you most proud of, and where was your most memorable concert? Can you share a final thought or memory from the Weird Herald days that really encapsulates what the band was all about?

Pat: Early on, ’68-’69, when we were recording. We were disciplined, energetic, and pretty damn good. Favorite songs = ‘Blinded,’ ‘David of Bijou’; spontaneous jams. Best time = two weeks at Mother’s (Tavern) in Tahoe City, CA, in Dec ’68. Memorable concert = ? Should have been the Fillmore audition, but certainly wasn’t. I believe that we were unique in our fusion of rock, country, and folk, and that Bill was a genuinely unique talent as both an author and musician.

Thank you for your time. The last word is yours.

Pat: I am, to this day, humbled and grateful that I had the opportunity to play with those three talented musicians and artists. Their friendship, mentoring, and creative exuberance will stay with me forever.

I also want to thank Alex and everyone involved for this labor of love (I don’t think anyone is getting rich).

Klemen Breznikar

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Headline photo: Weird Herald lineup 1 | Bill Holl, Jim Bowman seated, Billy Dean Andrus, Paul Ziegler

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