Doug Fieger: What Most People Get Wrong About The Knack

Doug Fieger: What Most People Get Wrong About The Knack

He was 25. She was 17.

When Doug Fieger walked into a clothing store in Los Angeles and saw Sharona Alperin for the first time, he didn't just see a girl. He saw a muse that would eventually fuel a bidding war between thirteen record labels and produce the biggest hit of 1979. It was, as he later described it, "like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat."

Honestly, most people think The Knack was some corporate-manufactured entity designed to rip off the Beatles. You’ve seen the album cover for Get the Knack—the black-and-white aesthetic, the skinny ties, the Capitol Records logo. It looks like a cynical marketing ploy. But if you talk to anyone who was in the L.A. club scene in 1978, they'll tell you the opposite. These guys were a "power pop" hurricane that blew the doors off the Whisky a Go Go and the Troubadour.

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The Detroit Roots Nobody Talks About

Before he was the face of the L.A. new wave, Doug Fieger was a kid from Oak Park, Michigan, obsessed with British rock. He wasn't some amateur. His older brother, Geoffrey Fieger, would eventually become the famous attorney for Jack Kevorkian, but Doug was the one chasing a different kind of notoriety.

He was a "Beatle fanatic" to the point of absurdity. He kept a box of Fab Four memorabilia under his bed. At 11, he convinced his dad to buy him a 1963 Gretsch Country Gentleman—the exact guitar George Harrison played. While other kids were playing baseball, Doug was forming the Royal Jammers.

By the late '60s, he was fronting a band called Sky. They weren't just some garage band; they were opening for The Who, Joe Cocker, and Jeff Beck. They even recorded two albums for RCA, with the second one finished at Mick Jagger’s house using the Rolling Stones' mobile recording unit.

Think about that. Before The Knack even existed, Doug had already been mentored by Jimmy Miller and had rubbed shoulders with Pete Townshend. He had the "knack" long before he had the band.

The 15-Minute Miracle

"My Sharona" is basically the perfect pop song. That stuttering vocal—muh-muh-muh-my Sharona—wasn't just a catchy hook. Doug was intentionally channeling Roger Daltrey’s performance in "My Generation."

He and lead guitarist Berton Averre wrote the song in about fifteen minutes. They wanted a fast-paced closer for their live set to force the crowd to beg for an encore. They recorded it in one take. Just one.

Why the Critics Hated Them

The success was too fast. The Knack’s debut album sold a million copies in less than two months. In an era where punk was supposed to be gritty and "real," The Knack was seen as too polished, too successful, and too derivative.

The backlash was brutal. You had "Knuke the Knack" buttons appearing in San Francisco. People accused them of being misogynistic because of the lusty lyrics. Doug, however, was unapologetic. He claimed "My Sharona" was written from the perspective of a 14-year-old boy. To him, it was about that raw, hormonal energy of adolescence, not a literal manifesto for adulthood.

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The Reality of the "One-Hit Wonder" Tag

Is it fair to call them a one-hit wonder?
Technically, no. "Good Girls Don't" was a massive follow-up, peaking at number 11. But "My Sharona" was so gargantuan—six weeks at number one—that it swallowed everything else the band ever did.

The band broke up in 1982. They regrouped, they toured, they released more albums, but they could never outrun the shadow of that riff. Even when the song had a massive cultural resurgence in 1994 thanks to the movie Reality Bites, it felt like a time capsule rather than a current movement.

The Long Goodbye

Doug Fieger’s final years were a testament to his "steely determination," a phrase his friend David Weiss used to describe him. He was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2004. Then it spread to his brain.

He didn't stop. He kept performing when he could. He had two tumors removed from his brain in 2006 and went right back to work.

Sharona Alperin, the girl who inspired it all, stayed his friend until the very end. She visited him frequently during his final months. He died on Valentine’s Day in 2010 at the age of 57. It’s a bit poetic, isn't it? The man who wrote the ultimate song about infatuation passing away on the day of lovers.

What You Can Learn from the Legacy of Doug Fieger

If you’re looking for a takeaway from the wild ride of The Knack, it’s about the power of a singular vision. Doug knew exactly what he wanted: short, punchy, melodic rock and roll. He didn't care if it was "cool" or if the critics thought it was derivative.

Actionable Insights from Doug's Career:

  • Trust the Hook: If a song takes fifteen minutes to write, don't overthink it. Spontaneity often beats technical perfection.
  • Study the Greats: Doug didn't just listen to the Beatles; he deconstructed them. He used their "visual language" to build a brand that resonated instantly.
  • Persistence Over Trends: He spent over a decade in "peripatetic" years, living on beans and water, before The Knack hit. Overnight success is almost always ten years in the making.
  • Keep Your Friends Close: The fact that he remained close with Sharona and his bandmates despite the legal and professional turmoil of the '80s says a lot about his character.

The Knack might be remembered for a single riff, but Doug Fieger was a lifelong student of the craft who proved that sometimes, all you need is a Gretsch guitar and a girl who makes your head feel like it's being hit by a baseball bat.

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To truly understand the band, go back and listen to their live recordings like Havin' a Rave-Up!. You’ll hear a band that was much more dangerous than their "new wave" sweaters suggested.