I became acquainted with Shari while she worked at Max’s Kansas City, in
the late 1970s. She is an amazing artist and cartoonist, and I published a few
of her humorous Max’s Funnies in the print version of my physical FFanzeen in
the early 1980s. This is a reprint of a Facebook blog on May 19, 2023 that she
wrote about the first time she was Joey Ramone perform in a pre-Ramones band
which shared a bill with SUICIDE, reprinted with her permission. – Robert Barry
Francos, 2023
Sniper
The First Time I Saw Joey Ramone: For His Birthday (May 19, 1951)
The very first time I saw
Joey Ramone perform live was as “Jeff Starship,” fronting the glam rock band
(we called it “glitter” back then) SNIPER, at Coventry, on Queens Blvd in
Sunnyside, Queens in 1973. I was 16 at the time and going to Art & Design High
School in the city. SNIPER was opening for a duo that my Art & Design
friends and I had heard much about, and we’d gone to check out: SUICIDE. We
knew the singer was a painter/sculptor/installation artist that was getting a
lot of attention, so we were intrigued.
When we got to the club,
we found a place to sit on the floor about twelve feet from the stage. The
crowd all found seats on the floor around us. The room filled up fast.
When the lights went down,
and SNIPER got on stage, I was immediately spellbound by the lanky front man
with bangs and sunglasses. First of all, he was taller than anybody I had ever
seen in my entire life – let alone someone fronting a rock and roll band. Even
without the 8-inch-high hot pink platform boots he was wearing, he would’ve
been taller than anyone I’d ever seen. Super long skinny legs in hot pink shiny
hip-hugger spandex pants, hot pink platform boots, and a dangling long black
scarf. Long dark wavy hair with short bangs, big cheekbones, and round shades.
And he had a stance that looked as if he was hardly moving, but even without
moving much, his delivery actually seemed quite aggressive. He had a unique
vocal style. Everything about him was unique.
I don’t recall the music
very well to tell you the truth. And I don’t recall the other members of the
band because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the singer. I just remember thinking “I
will never forget this front man for the rest of my life.”
After their set, we were
anxious to see the headliner. I’ll make this next part short because this story
is really about Joey, but I can’t leave out my first impression of SUICIDE.
Suicide
It got dark, and all of us
in the audience were sitting on the floor, waiting for what seemed like an
interminable amount of time, looking at the door behind us from which the duo
would be entering. Finally, a guy dressed all in black leather comes into the
room, dragging a large thick chain behind him. Slowly approaching the stage, he
wields the chain menacingly around the edge of audience, shouting
unintelligible stuff, and being incredibly menacing. I can’t remember if he was
on a mic yet, but he was loud. And I don’t remember if the keyboard player,
Marty Rev, was on stage yet at that point. I only remember my first glimpse of
the singer, Alan Vega, and he held us all in thrall. I was sitting there, and I
remember thinking, “Okay this is scary. If I get up now and try to leave, I’d
have to make my way out by stepping over all these people in the dark, and he’s
gonna see me, and he’s gonna come running after me with that goddamn chain...”
I had no choice but sit there and wait and see what happens next. So, I stayed.
When they were finally on stage, the music was deafeningly loud and strange,
and different from anything I’d ever heard before. And despite the terrifying
theatrics of Alan’s entrance, the music was actually mesmerizing, and I became
of a big fan of SUICIDE. Years later at Max’s, Alan and I would become great
friends. He was a real sweetheart. A true innovator.
Back to my Joey story…
For three years, after
seeing that show at Coventry, I would remember that strange looking singer I
saw fronting that opening band, wondering what ever happened to him, if he was
still performing.
By 1976, I was still
living at home in Queens, and going to SVA (School of Visual Arts) in the city.
One day I was at my boyfriend’s place. He had just bought a new album. It was
by this band THE RAMONES; he said that I just had to hear because they were
great. Totally different than anyone. Then he showed me the album cover. I
couldn’t believe it. I was like, “Oh my God, that’s the GUY!!! That’s
the GUY!!! That’s that front man I told you about! The lanky one with
the bangs and the glasses! It couldn’t be anyone else! That’s the singer of
SNIPER!” It was so weird that I was the only one in my crowd that ever saw him
play in any band before THE RAMONES. Needless to say, that was a great first
album, and the rest is history.
I saw them for the first
time at Hurrah’s in August 1978 with my friend Jane. She and I were up front
and center, standing right against the stage. And many years later I met his
beautiful mom, Charlotte, a very sweet lady. And it was obvious that he
inherited those big high cheekbones from her.
October 19, 2023, would have been my mom's 97th
birthday, being born in 1927, but she never made it past June 25, 1981. I am
more than a decade older now than she had ever been.
This piece is to
celebrate Helen Rosen. The Rosen siblings are, in order of age from eldest to
youngest, Miriam, Elsie, Eli and Helen. Elsie is the last remaining sister, approaching
the century mark this coming October (living in Boca Raton, Florida, the last
time I saw her was on her 90th birthday). I used to love going to her house in
Queens before she retired South, and would spend a couple of weeks in Flushing,
NY, every summer when my mother could not take my energy anymore. Elsie made
the best noodle kugel in the world. But I digress…
Driving mom crazy at Camp HES, about 1965
Helen was born in
Brooklyn in 1926, the first American generation of the maternal family, and her
first language was Yiddish. She did not learn to speak English until she went
to school. She grew up in the then-highly Jewish Williamsburg neighborhood, and
was quickly nicknamed – for obvious reasons – Blondie. Eventually, she would go
by Lynn. Her neighbors included Mel Brooks, and drummer Buddy Rich. In fact, her
best friend then, Millie (aka Lefty), married Mel’s brother right after he
returned from World War II from the Air Force where he was a bomber pilot.
Helen on the far left, Chickie next to her
In her teens, the
family moved to the Bensonhurst area in one apartment, and then to another
where I was conceived (I was born in the no-longer existing Brooklyn Doctor’s
Hospital). But more on that later. She attended an all-girl’s high school,
which she hated. My mom loved the boys, and the estrogen-fueled locale was not
for her. She dropped out of high school, but not before picking up a smoking
habit, with Kent being her brand of choice.
During the war, she
first dated a guy whose last name was Schmuckman. She eventually told me, “I
liked him too much, so I dropped him. I refused to be Mrs. Schmuckman.” She did
get engaged to somebody after that, who never returned from the battlefield.
She was on a blind
date with a friend, Chickie, in 1947. The story goes, the two men walked into
the room, saw them sitting there, and one of the guys turned to the other and
said, “The blonde is mine,” though he was being set up with Chickie. That was
my father, Leo Francos.
Helen and Leo were
married in 1948, and after a Honeymoon in Quebec City, moved into the Rosen apartment. My grandmother, Sadie, did
not like my father (he was a handful…think a smaller Archie Bunker), and she
and the rest of the family moved out. My immediate family stayed in that
apartment, in one form or another, until 2009.
Honeymoon in Quebec
When I was thirteen,
after my Bar Mitzvah, my mom did as she said she was going to do: she went to
work (her first job since a munitions factory at the Brooklyn Pier during the War).
She was a keypunch operator for Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, and would
eventually become the supervisor.
Unlike my dad (until
he retired), my mom was a social butterfly, enjoying the company of others,
with a cackle of a laugh that ran through the Rosen family, that I adored, and
eventually inherited. My parents were known for their wild parties, especially
on Halloween (I have the old black and white photos to prove it), and heavy drinking
was common. They had a rolling bar in the corner of the living room that stayed
until my dad moved out, years after my mom passed on. The parties stopped when
they found my older brother, then a toddler, under a table with an open bottle
of Scotch in his hands. Even so, we often hosted dinners in the living room that
were held on a foldable aluminum table that was kept under my parent’s bed.
One of the things I
loved about Helen was that she was persistent, knew what she wanted and would
settle for nothing less. For example, whenever my father bought a new car every
four years or so, it came from Helen’s paycheck. She did not care what brand of
car it was, letting my dad handle that end, but she insisted that it had to
have a vinyl roof. I never figured out why, but it drove Leo crazy. Yet, he
complied every time.
Another occurrence she
put her foot down was at Passover when I was a young teen. Tradition decried
that two (meat and dairy) separate set of dishes needed to be used during the
8-day holiday, so my mother would climb up and take the Passover dishes down
from the upper kitchen cabinet and put the two sets of daily dishes in their
place. Of course, living in an apartment in Brooklyn meant cockroaches were a
natural part of our environment, thereby Helen would have to wash all the
Passover dishes, and eight days later, when she switched them back, she would
have to wash all the daily dishware. Finally, she had enough. “Leo,” she said
sternly, “I’m not doing this anymore. Ganish [enough]!” This led to a
multi-day fight that ended with my mother – all five-feet of her – standing her
ground and saying, “Fine, you want it done, Leo, you do it!” And he did. That
was the last year we switched dishes.
At World Fair, Flushing, NY, 1965
Helen had some health
issues over the years, such as a cigarette being flicked out of a car window in
front of us and landing in my mom’s eye. Another time, she fell down the
basement stairs and broke her coccyx (tailbone), giving her pain for the rest
of her life. She was warned not to have any more kids, but she had me anyway (I
am pretty sure I was unexpected).
After a heart attack in
one occurrence, and then falling on a subway station platform (or perhaps she
was pushed), she was informed that she had a brain aneurysm, and would need an
operation that was dangerous to remove it. She went under the knife, and
technically the operation was successful, but her brain swelled, and she died
three days later at age 54, on June 21, 1981.
Day of my Bar Mitzvah, 1968
I still picture my mom
sitting at the kitchen table in the evening after supper dishes were done, smoking
a Kent and reading a Harlequin romance novel (she read about one per day, and
was part of a collective that exchanged books at work). There is so much I
would love to ask her about now, but as kids, we did not realize our parents
would not live forever.
Other stories about her and photos can be found in earlier blogs,
such as How Mel Brooks Set My Mother on Fire, For My Mom (on her birthday), and some photos of her with my father, Oh How They Danced. Feel free to add your own stories about Helen on the Blog's comments section below.
Ronnie and the
Jitters were a fun band. I have written about them before, but this was submitted by a band member. The Jitters
are Dave (bass, who wrote this ditty), Ronnie (vocals), Warren (sax), and Steve
(drums).
This short piece
of humor was published in FFanzeen, No. 6, dated Year-End 1981. – RBF, 2023
Arriving upon the club in
our ’68 Dodge Coronet Wagon, the first business the Jitters attend to, even
before checking out the stage and sound system, is a meticulous men’s room
inspection (Steve, who takes special pride in this work, will sometimes even
investigate the ladies’ room!). Each member of the band gives the room a fastidious
examination right down to Ronnie, conducting the “white glove” test for dust
and grime.
Warren inspects all the mirrors, if there are any left, for cleanliness
and breakage, since his face rarely leaves them anyway. This being done, he
compulsively checks out each and every urinal, toilet, tap (hot and cold), and specialty
devices to see whether or not they function correctly, while my own job is to
determine if there is enough paper towels and toilet paper for safely taking a
“New Wave” shit.
Steve, a former plumber’s helper from Chicago, inspects all the pipes
for leakage and proper drainage, and makes sure there are adequate waste receptacles
on hand.
One thing we’ve invariably learned after a year’s tour of duty, is the
uncanny comparison of clientele to the geographical locations of the clubs,
whether it be Uptown, Downtown, Jersey, or the hinterlands. A perfect example
of this is the men’s room at the Meadowbrook: a ritzy New Jersey “New Wave”
club with a men’s room attendant (the ladies have a matron). As you wash your
hands, he already has a towel in waiting, and will sell you your choice of
cologne. This rest room also has a lounge with a couch, military etchings on a
wall absent of graffiti, and ice in the urinals.
On the other hand, CBGB on the Bowery, well, no need to elaborate on
the denizens of this area, or their bathrooms.
While not at all complete, we hope this guide will help ease the
apprehension one feels when entering an unknown “New Wave” facility. So, in the
immortal words of the Ramones, flush twice: “It’s a long way back to Germany.”
My pal Dennis
Concepcion, who turned me onto Blotto, came with me when I went to interview the
group at a club on Long Island. Backstage was a weird mix of calm stillness and
pandemonium. Their comments on past members is a bit harsh, in my opinion, but
the band played on, and they were pretty much self-deprecating anyway, so I
took that as the band’s “personality.” After the interview was over, but before
they went onstage to play, two members whipped out a chess board and were
deeply into it. On the other hand, being a smart ass, I mentioned to Cheese
Blotto (d. 1999) that perhaps he should shave his head as he was noticeably balding. Not
only did he do it right then and there with one of those tiny travel razors,
Dennis documented it with photographic evidence. The pictures are included in
the original article, and as far as I know, Cheese remains curds-less.
This interview
was published in FFanzeen, No. 8, dated 1981. – RBF, 2023
Rear: Bowtie, Lee Harvey, Sarge Front: Broadway, Cheese
A Lot O’ Blotto
Rock’n’roll. Blitz. New
Romanticism. Punk. Psychedelic Revival. New Wave. Cabaret’n’roll?!
There appears to be a new
trend in rock’n’roll which refused to take itself seriously a-toll. Out on the
West Coast, there is a group called the Toons, who sing of “Roast Chicken
Faces”; in New York City, there’s Junk Rock, who explain the virtues of being a
“Sanitation Man.”; and from Albany, NY, there is the more popular leader of
this movement, named Blotto.
Blotto came into prominence
two years ago with the hit, “I Wanna Be a Lifeguard” [which still airs on the radio and weather reports
every summer to this day – RBF, 2023], which was played ad nauseam in, in seemed, every club (though the outer boroughs still cheer when
it comes up). That cut was off a four-song 12” EP which sold quite well for an
independent label, titled Hello! My Name is
Blotto, What’s Yours? At that time, the lineup
was Broadway Blotto (Bill Polchinski; vocals/guitar), Bowtie Blotto (Paul
Jossman; vocals/guitar), Blanche Blotto (Helena Binder; keyboards/vocals),
Sergeant Blotto (Greg Haymes, d. 2019; vocals/percussion), Cheese Blotto (Keith
Stephenson; bass), and Lee Harvey Blotto (Paul Rapp; drums).
The next year (that is, the
last from now), a new EP hit the stands, sans Blanche, with Chevrolet Blotto
taking over the keyboards, titled Across and Down. Although none of the songs reached the cult status of “Lifeguard,”
the four songs on it were consistently good in their own, bizarre ways.
Now the present, and the
release of a new record, this time a 7” 45.
There have been quite a few
people who have been onto me because I think these guys are okay. Well, hell,
they like what they’re doing: acting a bit irreverent and making damn asses of
themselves. Sure, it’s not mainstream rock’n’roll-whatever, but the point is
that they are not trying to claim they are. Nothing pretentious here, just a
lot of fun.
What amazed me was the fact
that they use their stage names all the time, even among themselves. Very
weird.
As a rule, they are nice
guys, but a bitch to interview. It was nearly impossible to get a straight answer
from them. In fact, what follows, is all that was coherent of a ninety-minute
interview.
Broadway Blotto: Our new
single will be out soon. “When the Second Feature Starts” is on the A-side, and
on the B-side is a song called “The B-side.”
FFanzeen: How
original! Broadway: Somebody had to
do it! Sergeant Blotto (Sarge): We
figured it was better than running the same song backwards. Like Napoleon XIV [“They’re Coming to Take Me Away Ha-Ha” – Ed, 1981].
FFanzeen: Why
a single instead of the usual EP? Broadway: Why not?! It’s
cheaper. Sarge: Now we can play them
in jukeboxes at diners, by the eclairs on the counters. Also, with a song like
“B-Side,” you can’t put that on the back of an EP. Broadway: And also, after
we put out our last EP, we said, “We’re not putting out any more EPs. It’s
either albums or a single.”
FFanzeen: Why
not an album? Lee Harvey Blotto: We
wanted to do a single. Broadway: You can’t put an
album on a jukebox either.
FFanzeen: They
used to have a shorter album on the jukebox. They were called EPs. [All laugh] Lee Harvey: One’s like
Frankie Valli. Broadway: I like Frankie
Valli. He’s my favorite. Sarge: He was okay. Lee Harvey: Was? Isn’t he
still alive?
FFanzeen:
That’s debatable. [That was meant career-wise; as of this writing, FV is still
alive – RBF, 2023]. Sarge: I don’t know – check
the list behind you. [Written on the wall
of the club where the interview is taking place is a list of dead
rock’n’rollers – Ed., 1981] Broadway: You mean, “All
the people who died, died?” Sarge: Yeah. “All my
friends, they died, died.” Lee Harvey: Or the sequel,
“People who lived.” Broadway: We were going to
put out a song, “People who Dine, Dine.” Lee Harvey: Did you hear
about that band playing, the Dead Lennon?
FFanzeen:
Yeah, from Boston. Lee Harvey: Well, they used
to be on Lawrence Welk, didn’t they? Broadway: Yes, until they
died. Arrrggghhh. Sarge: Then they
decomposed.
FFanzeen: Did
you ever notice that the music for the chorus of “People Who Died” is identical
with “Red Hot”? Broadway: Yeah [sings “Red Hot”:]. “My gal has died, died” [laughs]. Have you seen the video tape from “I Wanna Be a Lifeguard”? It was
filmed at various shoe stores and lakes in Upstate New York.
FFanzeen: The
song came out two years ago. Isn’t it a bit late now? Broadway: Hey, we’re timely
guys. Lee Harvey: It’s kind of a
statement because, like, Albany is two years behind everything and we were just
noting the other day that Legs Diamond, the gangster, was shot in Albany two or
three years after all the gangland slayings in Chicago and New York had taken
place. People had already forgotten it and went on to new things, like baseball
and other pastimes. So, that’s why our video tape is two years late. Plus, the
fact that some guys came up and said, “Hey, we want to do a video tape of you
guys and it won’t cost you anything,” and we said, “Well, now you’re talking.” Sarge: You see, we don’t
like to spend our money on video tapes and things like that. Every once in a
while, we like to spend it on foolish little things – like food. Broadway: Luxury items like
that. So, is it true that all the street signs in New York (City) are color
coordinated? My cousin told me that. In Queens, its white on blue, the Bronx,
is blue on yellow, Manhattan’s black on yellow, Staten Island is black and blue
–
[At this
point, the discussion went on a long tangent on how the band found out about
Lennon being shot while on their way to tape an “Uncle Floyd Show” and had to
act zany. From there, it went to the imagined shooting of Queen Elizabeth and
the shooting of the Pope, and two tourists from Buffalo, NY, where we pick it
up.]
Broadway: It was on the
tour plan: “Would you like the $1000 tour to Rome and you get to see all the
monuments, etc., or would you like the $500 tour where you just see Rome from
the bus, or would you like the $25 tour, where you get to see everything, but
you have to get shot.” Lee Harvey: “Well, let’s
see – if I save up enough money in Buffalo doing piecework separating weenies
from chickens –“
FFanzeen:
Tours in the future? Sarge: On August 24, we’re
play the Garden – Broadway: That’s planting the garden!
FFanzeen: Whatever
happened to Blanche Blotto? Broadway: What’s become of who? Sarge: That’s old news. Why
don’t you ask us what’s become of Chevy (Blotto)?
FFanzeen:
Okay, what’s become of Chevy? Sarge: Well, it’s all
pretty strange. Two weeks ago, he dropped out to join the sink-hole worship
cult down in Florida, and he’s living in a tent just outside that sink-hole. Broadway: He’s a Chevrolet
that wants to be at one with the Porches. Actually, his warranty ran out. We
heard from [Ralph] Nader’s people and we had to recall him from the group.
FFanzeen: Who
is replacing him? Broadway: No one could
replace Chevrolet Blotto. Sarge: Now, we’re just the
Blotto Quartet. Broadway: Actually, Sarge is filling in on keyboard stuff, Lee Harvey
is picking up the slack on the vocals, and business as
usual.
FFanzeen: Why
“Blotto”? Broadway: Why notto? Well, if you play
crossword puzzles – which I don’t – you find the words include “spiflicated” [not in my edition of Websters – Ed., 1981], six letters, beginning with “B,” fifth letter “T,” ending with “O” –
with a “LOT” in the middle!
Originally, I was going to
say something about how this is a challenging time to be openly gay, what with
the rise of Republican autocratic Christianity, and while that is definitely true,
I cannot think of a time after, say, the Stonewall Riots of 1969, where is has
been safe to be LGBTQetc. Sure, the arrests have gone down (for now) and there
is more of a presence on media, but uncalled for and unnecessary violence towards
the community continues, if not recently increasing due to hateful pundit right-wing
talking points.
I have to admit, growing
up in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, I had my own biases for most of my early life because
I did not know better, but through education and working at a Baskin-Robbins a
block away from the Stonewall, I quickly became a proud ally, and have marched
in a number of Pride events. That’s me; but it is time to discuss this documentary.
While LGBTQetc. violence
is a social problem, it most effects those who has had direct contact with this
force. It is the post-violence that is the focus of this film, telling the
story of five particular people. What is important to acknowledge is that
though these subjects have had horrendous things done to them, it is not these
actions that are the main focus, in a woe-in-me fashion, but is rather centered
on coming through on the other side, with love and support around them. Despite
the pain, this is a positive project.
JP Masterson aka Jipster
The film starts in earnest
when we meet Jipster (JP Masterson), a white rapper who works as a middle
school psychologist in Brooklyn; he was beaten in a New York subway station -
West 4th Street, of all places, the heart of the city’s gay
community – for holding hands with Peter, his partner. Interestingly, we see
the local television news story about the incident to launch the topic.
Masterson is an engaging talker (as a rapper, one would hope). We get to meet
his school’s principal, Dakota Keyes, and even some students, who fully support
him.
Mykel's flag dance
Flag dance performance
artist Mykel picked someone up and brought him home, where he was attacked and beaten.
Back in the mid-1980s, I worked with a man named Glen who had a great sarcastic
sense of humor, who was murdered by someone he brought home, so I can empathize
with the event. While being afraid of reporting this incident to the NYPD, he
reaches out to Beverly Tillery, who is the Executive Director of the New York
Anti-Violence Project (AVP). She is also interviewed, giving a lifeline for
those who may need her services. The person who counseled Mykel was transgender
icon, Victoria Cruz.
Victoria Cruz, Mykel
Victoria was at the
Stonewall riots in 1969 (as was musician Jayne County), becoming a crisis counselor
at AVP, literally saving lives with her generosity of spirit (e.g., to paraphrase,
“Don’t say ‘victim,’ say ‘survivor’”). Dressed in Native American paraphernalia,
she meets with Mykel at a Brooklyn beach and they talk. I am not ashamed to say
I was teary at one point.
Leia
Thus, the viewer is introduced
to Leia. She is a single mother from Denver, whose 9-year-old son, Jamel,
committed suicide after being bullied. In my opinion, this is being fostered by
right-leaning hate speech that is flooding the media. To me, outlets like
FoxNews is as much to blame as his classmates that bullied him until he could
not take it anymore. This is the desired future of the Republican party, while
they hypocritically scream “save the children.”
Leia was counseled by
members of local and national organization PFLAG, here represented by Bianca and
Brett, who explain their services. It is really smart filmmaking to not only
show the problems that the people who were attacked went through, and their journeys
back to their lives, but also to focus on the organizations that are there to
support people in those situations. I respect that a lot. Another example,
which is focused on here is the first Straight-Gay Alliance advocacy group, The
Swish Ally Fund, founded by Sue Sena, who is also featured.
Prince Manvendra Singh-Gohil
The centerpiece of the film
is Prince Manvendra Singh-Gohil, the “world’s first openly gay prince,” who is
from India. Of course, he received numerous death threats and abandoned by his
family, which led him and his husband, Duke DeAndre, to become global ambassadors
to LGBTQetc. rights. We meet him in India at a compound set up as a safe place
for the LGBTQetc. community in that country. As he visits New York, they touch on
the importance of Stonewall, and we see the triangular Christopher Street Park (a
place I have been many times), directly across from the Stonewall. Nearly everyone
in the film comes together for the coda at the World Pride Parade there (if I
may digress, if you have the chance to get to a New York Gay Pride Parade, do
it!). It is truly a joyous moment.
The director of this documentary,
Cheryl
Allison, is an actor, producer, and a filmmaker focused in on sexual-based
injustices (e.g., Shatter the Silence in 2019). She does a magnificent job
here getting the point across. One aspect of this I particularly liked is that
she takes each case study and shows them individually, rarely cross-cutting
back and forth between them until further on, when you realize all of the
subjects intertwine in their lives one way or another. And yet, they roll from
story to story, organically growing as one introduces the other and the effects
they had on their lives. This gives a better picture of “flow,” from hurt to
healing for each individual, since everyone had their own pathway through PTSD
into health.
This film is mostly New
York-centric, a “Blue” city in a “Blue” state, where generally being LGBTQetc.
is not only broadly recognized, but mostly accepted. And, yet, even in this
melting pot, there is a unfounded hatred for the “Other,” be it due to various religious
beliefs or just being afraid to come out of the closet (e.g., Republicans like American
Conservative Union chairman Matt Schlapp, who is currently accused to
sexually assaulting a male driver during Hershel Walker’s failed campaign).
What I would like to see, going forward, is this film become a series, because
once one gets below the Mason-Dixon, I am willing to assume that the violence
level would increase exponentially, and it needs to be addressed to be able to
heal as a country.
This is a powerful testament
to love that arises like a phoenix from violence, giving voice to advocacy and
positiveness, rather than negativity. It manages to be emotional, inspiring,
and pointed, without being maudlin, sappy nor sensationalistic. It is a
powerful piece of work. This should be shown in schools across the country, especially
in Red states like Florida and Texas, where homophobia is rampant.
The documentary is
available on Apple TV, iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, DirectTV, and Spectrum, among
others.
During the
early 1980s, The Vipers were among the garage revival elite from New York, including
the likes of The Mosquitoes, The Chesterfield Kings, The A-Bones, The Fuzztones,
and The Tryfles. The each had their own niche, be it rockabilly, voodoobilly,
or fandom. The Vipers leaned mor towards the pop spectrum of the garage sound.
This was originally
published in FFanzeen No. 13, dated
1985. – RBF, 2023
The Vipers: The Pure Sound of Marac’n’Roll (1985)
Vipers. A name that sticks terror
in your heart? Nah, not if you’re involved with the local revival of the ‘60s
sound here in New York.
And what’s a better place
to see and meet a Viper than in a cave? A CaveStomp! that is. For those
uninformed, the Dive is a club where the psychedelic crowd meet, and every once
in a while, Thursdays belong to the Vipers in what has become known as the
CaveStomp!, where the elite get to their feet.
The Vipers are Jon Weiss (lead vox/saxophone/percussion), Paul Martin(lead guitar/vox), Graham May (bass/vox), Pat Brown (drummer and possibly ex-governor of California), and David Mann (guitar/keyboard/harmonica/vox).
I had been trying to
interview the band for a while now, but we never seemed to be at a convenient
spot. Well, the first Thursday in September, before their return to the
CaveStomp! at the Dive, I connected with Jon, Paul, and Graham.
(ffoto by Robert Barry Francos)
FFanzeen:The Dive gave you back
your Thursday night.
Jon Weiss: They forced it back on us – by popular demand.
PaulMartin: This time it’s only going
to be four weeks. Every Thursday in August. In September, the album will be released.
We produced the album, and Nadroj Wolrat helped us produce it.
FFanzeen: What’s
the name of the album? Jon: It’s called Outta
the Nest!
FFanzeen: “Outta”
is a popular – Graham May: – Eastern
drawl.
Jon: The Nest is the name of our studio where we rehearse and we do our
four-tracks, so most things are conceived there.
Graham: That’s where we recorded our single [“Never Alone” b/w “Left Your Hold
on Me,” on Midnight Records – RBF, 1985].
Paul: We also recorded “Nothing’s From Today” out on Bomp!’s Battle of the
Garages, Vol. II there.
FFanzeen: Where
do your recordings go from here, after Outta the Nest? Jon: We have alot of new tunes we gotta do. Paul: We want to
do a second album right away. We already got the first song in the band and we
will be on the road by October or November.
Jon: We’ll be on the road, playing other dives.
FFanzeen: Why doesn’t
any of your recordings sound like you do live?
Paul: We use chintzy recording equipment. It doesn’t sound much like anything.
FFanzeen: It
sound a lot pop-ier.
Jon: I think it’s because the conditions are a little more ideal in the studio.
Also, live, we rip it up. We go a little too nutty; we get a little manic.
Things get a little rougher than in the studio.
Paul: There’s more time for contemplation in the studio.
Graham: You can go over any part you don’t like in the studio.
Jon: They’ve yet to make a tape that can capture the true Vipers sound. It’ll
always come out sounding a little more pop-ier until we do a live album. ‘Til
then, it cannot be captured!
FFanzeen: You’ve
sort of been lumped together with the psychedelic scene, butI really don’t think you’re psychedelic at
all.
Jon: I agree.
Graham: And garage, too.
Jon: I think we’re a garage band. I would like to be termed as a garage band. I
think that’s truer.
Paul: More than a psych band.
FFanzeen:
Think you’ll make it on a Nuggets 1995?
Jon: I think when we evolve, maybe we’ll end up a psychedelic band. [Laughs]
FFanzeen: The
first time I saw you, I thought you sounded more like you were leaning towards a
Dick Dale (d. 2019) and the Del-Tones
sound, than to, say, the Standells or Chocolate Watchband.
Paul: We do have a couple of Dick Dale-esque type numbers. We’re probably going
to whip them out on the public after the album comes out.
Graham: We’re thinking of using a bit more saxophone-oriented instrumental-type
songs, along with the hot numbers we’re doing.
Paul: Do you think we have those leanings?
FFanzeen: Not
so much the surf sound, but towards that pop sound.
Jon: What kind of pop would you compare it to?
FFanzeen: I
would say more toward (Paul Revere and) the Raiders, or the Monkees.
Jon: We put an emphasis on melody. That’s something that we do do. And yet, it’s
very guitar-oriented.
FFanzeen: Not keyboard
up front, like most psych bands.
Jon: That’s true. We’re a guitar band, professionally.
Paul: But some of our new stuff is gritty, and not just strictly pop. It’s
getting a lot grittier now. Some of our older recordings – we did “Medication”
and a couple of other tracks – they were more poppy sounding than what we’re
doing now.
Jon: We’re all taking hormone shots. We have put up some pretty wimpy stuff,
but as we’ve been around longer, we start to get more confident, and we
actually start sacrificing melody for more emotion. A lot of times you can hide
behind some pretty nice sounds, and they just sort of gloss over what you’re
trying to say.
Paul: Or you try so hard getting it to perfection you never get to lash out.
Jon: That’s something Paul is really against. Like in rehearsal, I’ll say, “Let’s
do it again and again,” and he’ll flip, ‘cause it can make it just too sterile;
too nice. And now, as we get more confident, we do things on a much rougher
scale.
Paul: It’s more comfortable getting hell-bend and going over the edge with it.
Having a lot of fun and raunching it up. And it does have that real impact. If
you know it well enough to pull it off well, but at the same time not having
refined it by going over it note by note – it’s kind of neat to just get up on
stage and just raunch out a few numbers.
FFanzeen: Yeah,
I think you’re in that period of music that most people forget, between the
Dick Dale guitar and the psychedelic Farfisa, which is still garage sounding. I
call it maracas music. Most of the garage sound seems to lie in this period.
Jon: Marac’n’roll.
Graham: Like Davy Jones of the Monkees (d. 2012).
Jon: I think why that exists is that a lot of lead singers are front men and
can’t play anything, and they need something up there. Like with Davy Jones,
well that doesn’t need an explanation.
(ffoto by Robert Barry Francos)
FFanzeen:
Well, he always had the tambourine for back-up!
Jon: You need something to play with.
Paul: It’s cute, anyway, seeing this furry little creature playing a tambourine
on stage.
Jon: You see, when we stop doing these songs, they’re going to continue. It’s
really good, because there are so many bands now, springing up in New York,
that have no place to play. This place (the Dive) is cool; this place is real.
It’s a place to work out your stuff. Look, here comes Pat Brown, or drummer!
Sit down, Pat!
FFanzeen: I’m
doing an interview of the band, of which you’re now part.
Jon: Pat’s different than most drummers.
Pat Brown: You might call me a team drummer.
Jon: He’s a primitive stick-and-stone man.
FFanzeen: What’s
the most obscure song you guys do?
Pat: “Surprise Surprise” by the Loved Ones.
FFanzeen: That’s
with Gary Pig Gold, one of our occasional columnists.
Jon: Do you have the record?
FFanzeen: No,
I don’t have that one. How about something easy now, like how did the band get
started?
Paul: Pretty much out of apathy for anything else that’s going on. We wrote half
a dozen songs and decided to put it together.
Jon: The fact is that all of us disliked all this music. We said, “Shit,
someone’s got to do what we like.” We were all friends in the beginning anyhow;
we all shared the same likings. It was the only way to go, since we all played
music.
FFanzeen: Do
you ever get any negative press because you do so many originals?
Paul: We get very little negative press.
Jon: Most of our press has been pretty good, the smallamount we’ve received. A lot of people seem
to take our strong point as the fact that we’re songwriters. That’s the thing
that sets us apart, that we do originals. That we write some pretty good ones.
Graham: We love to play old songs, though, too, so we generally give people who
really want those old tunes a lot of that, too; so, it’s not that much of a
negative response coming back to us.
Jon: But we’d be cheating ourselves out of a blast if we didn’t play our songs.
FFanzeen:
There seems to be a contingent of people who belie that garage bands should be
playing these more and more obscure songs.
Paul: If you’re not really into it that much, it’s hard to really get a hold of
these things, and to research all of the material that does exist.
FFanzeen: That
mentality –
Jon: I understand what you are saying. “First of all, there are very strict
rules to be a garage band. Do not make innovations. Do not change the
sound.Go out of your way to get the
right fuzz Vox and the right fuzz note setting. Go out of your way to get it no
matter how much it costs.” The reason this gets so much bad press is because
you have to have the money for the clothes, you have to have the money for the records,
and for the instruments. But I think those boundaries are open enough to write
just as good a song and to cover those songs, because they’re great, so there’s
nothing wrong with it.
Graham: We wouldn’t be able to write them if we didn’t play them. We wouldn’t dare
take an original song or an idea for a song and use it to our extremes without
having been able to play so many covers exactly the way they were played.
Jon: You might say it’s almost fanatical, to really like something to that
point, and a lot of the people who like the sound arecollectors. It’s the last thing that they own.
This is the last sound that we own that hasn’t been screwed over by disco. It’s
the last thing that has not been screwed up by the guy wearing a dress telling
us to dance [Boy George – RBF, 2023]. This is something you can’t let
go. We just won’t let it go. The people who like this sound, they get really
pissed, and I don’t blame them, if the sound gets too blah. It’s not an exercise.
It’s not difficult for us at all, what we do. Other bands seem contrived or
seem to work too hard at being a ‘60s band, and that’s not true. It’s the most
second-nature, natural thing to do. I do not think anyone who listens to this
music resents original tunes. I think they resent tunes that are complete
rip-offs, or else they just don’t compare. The only songs they know are the
really good ones. And only the really, really good ones make it on the compilations,
not the bad ones.
FFanzeen: It
seems a lot of people play this game of” Let’s see who can play the most
obscure tune.” Sort of like a competition.
Jon: That’s true. We don’t like that. But it’s not done with any malice.It’s not done, like, “We’re in this club and
you can’t join.” They just go in these, like, warehouses and search; and it’s a
gas when you finally find something. Some of our best times on the road and
stuff is to hit the local record shop, beat the guy silly, and go down to the basement
and go through all their records.
FFanzeen: I
like to go out on weekends to the suburbs and hit –
Paul: – Tag sales.
Jon: You get little old ladies with stacks that have been sitting in closets
for years. Records and clothes. right, Pat? Looking for the perfect shirt?
FFanzeen: And
you play music to support your habit, right?
Jon: And a few others.
FFanzeen: As
far as collectors go, I’ve been, like, snubbed by a few of these people
because, say, I didn’t know every Yardbirds song ever done. “You’re not worth
talking to –“
Jon: Oh, man! That’s part of the wholeunderlying
attitude of this scene going on. People are, “What’s that?” “What’s that?”
Passing cassettes around and stuff, but there’sso much being resurfaced, there’s even less emphasis on that now. I
think. Except for the hardcore people; the collectors.
Paul: With us, it’s a matter of sharing, ‘cause we can get up there and do it.
DJs are like that, too. They like playing their collections for people.
FFanzeen: To
me, collecting records is not paying $35 for an obscure single, it’s going to a
garage sale and finding it for a dime. Ifsomeone comes up to me and says, “I’ve got so-and-so by the Hurd,” and I
ask “How much did you pay for it?” and he says “$35,” I say, who gives ashit. Anyone can get it for that money.
Paul: Well, there’s different levels of being a collector, too. You go through
that phase of practically having everything, and then you make a list of things
you don’t have. Or if you have a double in your collection, you might trade
it for something else. But that’s the upper echelon collector.
FFanzeen: But
that’s business-like. I do it for fun.
Graham: It’s like, to be able to turn people on to a sound, of when there was a
naivete in rock’n’roll, and stuff like that.
Jon: Yeah! Every once in a while, someone will send us a tape of good music. We
don’t care if it’s on tape.
FFanzeen: I prefer
vinyl because it melts down better to be shot straight into the arm of a true
vinyl junkie!
Jon: We’re just enthusiasts.
(ffoto by Robert Barry Francos)
Jon continued
to be an enthusiast. He took the CaveStomp! into the new century (I saw one at
CBGBs with ? and the Mysterians, the Lyres, etc.), that brought out the newer
garage bands, as well as those classic performers. Little Steven (of the E
Street Band and now has a podcast) picked up the financial slack and put a large
part of himself into the movement that, hopefully, will not die. And while the
second Vipers album did not come out, and the band is gone into the ether, what
they were striving for, hopefully survives.
Currently living in Saskatoon (email at RBF55@msn.com for address). From 1977-88, I used to publish a print version of a music magazine in New York called FFanzeen, which dealt with the wide-ranging independent music scene. I also photographed many bands from the period (and since). Now I write this blog. And the beat goes on.
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