Jeremy Clyde has a major case of stage fright, odd for a man who has been singing and acting onstage since the ’60s.
“I’m being very brave. I have never stood by myself and done a show alone,” he said. “I’ll probably sing ‘A Summer Song’ at the end — and I’m terrified.”
He is half of the music duo known as Chad and Jeremy, who had seven Top 40 hits in America in the mid ’60s as part of the British Invasion.
Clyde can’t count the number of times he’s sung “Summer Song” and other hits. Until Sunday night at Tacoma’s Immanuel Presbyterian Church, however, he won’t have performed them solo.
It marks his third visit to Immanuel in four years. It started when Rev. Dave Brown and his wife, Ann, went to a Chad and Jeremy concert in New York. Afterward, the Browns took advantage of a meet-and-greet.
“We got on well and Rev. Dave has become a friend,” Clyde said from somewhere in California this week. “Chad and I liked to finish each tour with a charity gig somewhere, and we thought the work he was doing was excellent.”
That work is a Habitat for Humanity trip by church members who have twice gone to Guatemala to build homes.
“We take 20 people for 10 days and build three houses,” Brown said. “We’ve done it twice, and the Chad and Jeremy concerts helped pay for the trip each time. We want to go again in 2016.”
When the Browns visited England last spring, they had lunch with Clyde and talked about a third concert. But his longtime music partner, Chad Stuart, wouldn’t be able to do another show because of knee problems.
Clyde had a backup plan.
“I was in studio recording ‘The Bottom Drawer Sessions,’ ” he said. “Since the ’70s, I’d been writing music to lyrics written by a couple of people, mainly David Pierce. And because they didn’t fit with the Chad and Jeremy catalog, I’d just put them in my bottom drawer, literally.
“There are hundreds of them. So last spring I recorded bits and pieces, and we called it ‘The Bottom Drawer Sessions, Volume One.’ ”
The CD will be released next week, and the songs on it will make up much of Clyde’s set list on Sunday.
“Will I remember all the lyrics? I’ll find out,” Clyde said. “I may cheat and have them on a music stand onstage.”
That might create another problem.
“At my advanced age — I’m 73 — I find glasses are necessary to read,” Clyde said. “Chad is the one with the glasses, so that image might confuse an audience.”
A man who laughs often, Clyde has been in the public eye since 1964, when Chad and Jeremy released ‘Yesterday’s Gone,’ ‘A Summer Song’ and ‘Willow Weep for Me.’
While all three charted in the United States, none were hits in England — an oddity that followed the two throughout their career.
“I have another life in England. I’m an actor,” Clyde said.
He started with cameo appearances in American television series including “The Patty Duke Show,” “My Three Sons” and “Batman.” Later, back home, he proved his chops in British television dramas.
“I’ve done ‘Downton Abbey’ and other bits and pieces for years.”
Onstage with a guitar, Clyde said, he never forgets what the music of the ’60s means to U.S. audiences.
“I’m aware that we and many others became so important to so many people at that time, and they’ve not forgotten,” Clyde said. “A year ago, we turned the house lights up and sang ‘A Summer Song,’ and the whole audience — men and women — swayed to the music.
“I can tell you, when you’re in your 70s, that’s a gift.”
For years, Rev. Brown has brought live music of all genres to Immanuel Presbyterian on Sunday nights, always with free admission. And the community has supported that effort with donations that have made musicians willing to return.
This weekend, however, the rules are a bit different.
“Chad’s playing for nothing,” Brown said. “He asked two friends, Rick Jones and Valerie Neal, to open for him. Afterward, there will be a meet-and-greet, and Jeremy will sign anything people bring.”
That, Clyde said, can provide amusement for him and his fans.
“I’ve seen all the albums and sleeves from the 45s,” he said. “But I’m always surprised when someone comes up with funny bits of your own life you hadn’t seen — a photo they took, or pictures of them and us in 1964.
“That is trippy.”