Wasn’t he largely responsible for organising Monterrey, which was the love-in he was writing about? Sorry for all the questions, but I’m thinking I’m either losing my memory or a lot of the posts above are plain wrong. The same ‘heads’ who’d have sneered at this single’s supposed cynicism were probably booing Laura Nyro at the festival.

As a picture postcard it works as a perfect companion to California Dreaming, Phillips’ breakthrough hit when he was still based in wintery NYC. If San Francisco was a “hoax” or a “fantasy” it was one that Phillips clearly believed in, and one that finally sucked him dry (see the Wolfking Of LA album).

The production is a heat haze, with the tangy guitar fills, subtly atonal bells and that odd mock-eastern middle eight adding to a sense of mild disorientation. All of which creates a gen-u-ine summer ‘67 sound of California. The music of Quicksilver, the Dead et cet just doesn’t work as well unless you know the context. This one - from a distance - bottles the essence.

Also, what a sonorous, believable vocal. McKenzie had it on a plate but decided he didn’t want to be a star, otherwise he could have become a major player in the soft pop/orch-ballad-land that was ‘68 (imagine him tackling things like the Casuals’ Jesamine, or Macarthur Park, or even Montague Terrace).

The follow-up was an orchestrated minor-key heartbreaker with a subtle song structure which sank it’s airplay chances. The title, Like An Old Time Movie, probably didn’t help either - sounds like it’s from the Anita Harris/Frankie Vaughan/Pet Clark class of ‘67. It nails the love/hate, push-and-pull at the end of a long-term relationship: “I’m gonna let you go, every time I see you”. Absolutely worth digging out if Jimmy Webb and Scott Walker float your boat.

I’m a native of California too, and as songs about my state go, this is definitely one of the better ones. It is brilliant and sad and alluring, just like the place…

I agree with this completely except I would change the word “glib” to “brilliant.” The songwriters were Scott McKenzie and John Phillips, the latter of the Mamas & Papas. And he’s “pop” through and through, wasn’t a freak, didn’t get it but was willing to market it.

There is, though, one use left for this song. I’ve been in a number of gay bars in SF where this record is in jukeboxes–simply for its camp value.

My Mum says they used to joke about The Golden Hits Of Scott Mackenzie - Volume 2.

I’d give it an 8 or a 9; it’s pretty. It’s canny but not wise, and even as a young ‘un I had the sense it was a commercial cash-in, more for squares than for hipsters. And I liked it anyway.