Cactus should have been huge but it never happened - so we asked them to tell us why

In the summer of 2013 Classic Rock spoke with Carmine Appice and the late Tim Bogert about the early days of their band Cactus. Formed as the indirect result of a car crash, Cactus's incendiary live shows were never matched by their album sales, and they may be the only band whose frontman was later machine-gunned to death.

Had it not been for a car crash, Cactus might not have existed. In late 1969, Carmine Appice and Tim Bogert – drummer and bassist with US psych-metal pioneers Vanilla Fudge – began talking to Rod Stewart and Jeff Beck about starting a new band together.

“Rod quickly withdrew,” recalls Appice. “He’d had problems with Jeff over money in the Jeff Beck Group and didn’t want a repeat. But the remaining three of us decided to stick together and find a new singer. But then Jeff had a terrible car crash in December ’69, and that put him out of action for 18 months."

While Beck, Bogert & Appice joined forces a few years later, at the time the Americans were determined not to derail. After an unsuccessful dalliance with singer Robert Riskin Jr. they recruited former Amboy Dukes frontman Rusty Day, adding Jim McCarty (no relation to the Yardbirds drummer) on guitar.

From the start, they wore Anglophile influences on their collective sleeve. “[Instrumentally] we were a power trio,” says Bogert. “ Cream had only just stopped when we began, and Zeppelin were still finding their feet. We were the missing link between them. We had a lot in common with the British scene.”

Signed to Atlantic, the same label as Vanilla Fudge, they released their self-titled debut in July 1970. Its heavy, blues-oriented style bridged the gap between Led Zeppelin ’s ambitious noise and Grand Funk ’s primal bombast, but sold modestly.

“It was certainly influential,” insists Appice. “Ask Van Halen . Compare Eddie Van Halen ’s playing on Eruption [from the Van Halen album] to what Jim did on the song Let Me Swim , and you tell me where Eddie got it from.”

But it was onstage that Cactus came alive. They made their debut opening for J imi Hendrix . Their second show was supporting The Who .

“We got so good so quickly on the road that we were blowing headline bands off stage almost every night,” says Bogert. “ Ten Years After threw us off their tour because we were going down better than they were. A load of other big names also kicked us off tours. We frightened them.”

Unfortunately, this prowess didn’t translate into sales. Their two albums released in 1971, One Way… Or Another and Restrictions , failed to set the world on fire – their first three albums sold an underwhelming 200,000 copies apiece. Still, their reputation ensured they moved in rarefied circles.

“We did One Way… Or Another at Electric Lady Studios in New York,” says Appice. “Jimi Hendrix hung out with us a lot. And George Harrison even turned up one day. Jim McCarty had real trouble understanding George’s accent. At one point George asked him what the name of our band was, and all Jim could say in desperation was, ‘Hi, my name’s Jim!’”

But still America wasn’t biting. It puzzles Bogert. “We had the following to do a lot better,” he says. “Maybe it was because Atlantic believed Cactus albums would do well because of the Vanilla Fudge association. And when that didn’t happen, they hadn’t a clue what to do.”

“We wanted to be heavy, and never recorded a song that could be a hit single,” adds Appice. “We were a marketing nightmare.”

This bloody-mindedness contributed to the original line-up falling apart. Shortly after Restrictions, McCarty and Day were out.

“Jim hated playing with Carmine and me, because we were so avant-garde,” laughs Bogert. “He wanted a simple rhythm section, and that wasn’t us. So he quit.”

“Atlantic never liked Rusty,” adds Carmine. “When Jim walked, they forced him out. Rusty was such a character. A true gangster before gangsta rap happened. He was a gangsta rocker, and was machine-gunned to death in 1982, with his 12-year-old son, after a drugs deal that went wrong."

A revamped line-up released 1972’s partially live ’ Ot ’N’ Sweaty , on which Cactus jettisoned their sound in favour of a lighter Faces inspiration, while their love of British music reached its conclusion with a cover of music-hall staple Underneath The Arches . It flopped, and Cactus split soon afterward, but their influence is undeniable.

“I’ve had members of Van Halen and AC/DC tell me how much they owe to Cactus,” says Appice. “That’s satisfying.”

“We were defined by live performances,” adds Bogert. “At our best we were untouchable. Even The Who couldn’t follow us. What made us stand out? We had more of everything!”

This feature was originally published in Classic Rock 188, published in September 2013. A new, all-star Cactus album, Temple of Blues - Influences & Friends, is out now .