A look back at Plain Brown Wrapper

Aside from a small batch of limited-run singles, Plain Brown Wrapper is now cemented deep within Lansing’s murky ’60s and ‘70s rock folklore. Those who were around to experience the band live on stage have hazy memories of the stage-filling ensemble cast of local musicians that made up Plain Brown Wrapper (PBW). From scorching guitars, to jazzy horns, the group slowly evolved from primitive arrangements into a colossally progressive wall of sound. When a group rolls up on stage with two trumpets, a flute and trombone, you know it’s not your typical band.

Built from the garage-rock ashes of The Plagues (another legendary Lansing band), PBW took shape in 1966, after Plagues frontman Bill Malone left the group and headed to Hollywood. Malone began a job at Don Post Studios where he molded masks for films, including the iconic Michael Myers mask for the original “Halloween” slasher. He later became a full-on director, with a resume that includes 1999’s “House on Haunted Hill” remake.

Meanwhile, back home in Michigan, his bandmates Van Decker (guitar/keys), Phil Nobach (drums) and James “Hoz” Hosley (guitar/bass) joined up with Scott Durbin and, later, Steve Allen, and rebranded as Plain Brown Wrapper. The group, which fully embraced the new psychedelic sounds of the late-’60s, saw many lineup changes until its 1973 breakup. But, at its core, the outfit followed a basic equation.

“The Wrapper was influenced by American groups like the Beach Boys, Motown and some jazz artists.” Decker said. “(The sound) had a lot to do with Scott Durbin, who was an experienced jazz musician. Scott’s trumpet playing and piano talents made it possible to explore a much wider variety of styles, which carried over into our original material.”

Hosley confirms, The Wrapper preferred to test the limits, and each other, every time they performed together at local venues like The Brewery, The Dells, MSU Shaw Hall, The Stables and Club Roma. Talented new PBW members, like Chuck Sweitzer (guitar) and Gary Story (drums), also pushed the band to higher heights.

“The band loved to jam, as in jazz improvisation, or blues riffing, and that showed-up often, as the band would stretch-out and allow a soloist to play-on,” Hosley said. “Or, there might be a dualling 8-bars jam, one soloist trying to stump the other or just put down a good lick.” 

Back in 2016, some of the PBW members reunited for a concert in Laingsburg. It was the first time the band performed since its previous reunion in 1994. Sharing the 2016 bill was The Plagues, and a cast of other bands from that fruitful, shaggy-haired scene, which also comprised countless other notable rockers from across Michigan.

“The whole thing was a trip,” said Dave Livingston, bassist/trumpet player for PBW. “We played a lot of concerts with guys everyone’s heard of, Bob Seger, Ted Nugent, MC5. There were a lot of great bands in the state, outdoor summer concerts were a big deal.”

Sure, PBW shared stages with hard rockers, but its sound was far left of that typical riff-driven band. The Wrapper always stuck to its horn-heavy jazz-rock sound – similar to Chicago or Blood, Sweat and Tears. Unfortunately, the band recorded three albums that were never released, so, for now, that experimental sound remains shelved.

During its impressive run, PBW toured various parts of the country in a converted school bus, with a setlist of both originals and revamped covers.

Beyond that, the band of longhairs even inked deals with Beachwood Music (a Capitol Records subsidiary) and Wooden Nickel Records (an RCA subsidiary). Both deals fizzled out and so did the band, according to Livingston. Another “almost famous” scenario — though the band went out in grand fashion.

“Our final concert was at the old Lansing Civic Center with a 200-voice choir and a full orchestra,” he recalled. “After that concert, we parted ways in the spring of ’73.”

Today, some of the band’s catalog is streamed on YouTube, like the soulful “Real Person” and “You’ll Pay” (an early, stripped-down single). Give ’em a search and listen to the traces of sonic brilliance these local cats left behind.