I’m On the List

Text and image by © Robert Barry Francos

Did you hear about the poseur punk? He paid to get in.

That’s an old joke from the ‘70s. While I’ve paid for more shows over the years than have been on the guest list, I have also had the honor of having my name at the door quite a few times.

I don’t really remember the first time I made the list for my work on my fanzine (1977-88), but most likely it was either at CBGB (RIP) or Max’s Kansas City (RIP). However, making the list itself could have come earlier, in 1976, while I was Arts Editor of my college paper and had the opportunity to see a number of shows for free, such as Sparks and Mott at Avery Fischer Hall, or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers at both CBGB and the Bottom Line (RIP).

Actually, there are different levels to the list. The primo is considered the backstage pass at a bigger show, which usually results in a laminated card that is either hung around the neck or clipped to your clothes. As I mostly review independent artists (I’m still proud to say I turned down a chance to interview Duran Duran during their heyday because, well, who cares), the odds of the pass being that sophisticated is unlikely. In fact, the only laminated pass I have ever received, as far as I can remember, was to see the revived New York Dolls play a private concert at the now defunct Tower Records on lower Broadway, in 2006. Admittedly, I had nothing to do with it really: my pal’s son, Ben Kugel, used his influence to wrangle a pass for himself plus one, which ended up being a very fortunate “Uncle Robert.” We even got to hang out a bit with the band after the show.

When going for a guest list at the level to which I am used to, there is no fancy memento, even for some of the relatively bigger names. The end result is usually my name handwritten on a sheet of paper at the front door, hopefully with a “+1” following it. Now, it is always a gamble that you’ll get down there, and either you were forgotten, the band isn’t there yet with the list, the management suppresses the list because it’s that much less money for them if you get in free, or you were lied to because it’s easier to say yes and then ignore it after than confront a requester. If this occurs (and it has happened to me a number of times) you’re standing there saying “I’m on [band name]’s list,” only to find them responding, “No, nothing here.” In fact, this is so common that when I went to see D.O.A. at Amigos in Saskatoon, I brought along a printout of the email from the record company, Sudden Death, saying that if there was any problems at the door, to have them “find Joey” [Keithley], the band’s frontman. Occasionally, the door person will believe you anyway and let you in, but that is exceptionally rare, even for the smaller venues.

And just what does one do in that situation? Do you say screw it and pay anyway, or do you say screw it and walk away? Well, for me, it depends on a formula based on the factors of who is playing, how much is the cover charge, and how much cash do I have in my pocket. Since I’ve been to Saskatoon, I’ve been pretty lucky, and every time I’ve been on the list, my name was there. But more on that in a sec.

Back in Brooklyn, when I learned about a club called the Punk Temple (RIP) in my own Bensonhurst neighborhood (held in a Synagogue basement) in 2002, I contacted the guys who ran the place via email and asked them to put me on the list in exchange for photos that I would give to them and the bands. The answer was solidly no, because there were people already taking pictures. Yeah, I thought, teenagers with little to no experience on cheap digi cameras (I still used film then). So, I went anyway, gave my $8, and handed in the pix in anyway. That was the last time I paid at the Temple.

I got there early for the Temple shows (something I still like to do) and started hanging out with the guys who ran the place, making myself known to them and the bands, many of whom invited me to other gigs elsewhere. And when the fans formed bands, they in turn asked me to come. Honestly, I don’t think I paid for a single show from 2002 until 2009. Somewhere towards the end of the Punk Temple heyday, around 2004, I was in the space waiting for the show to start. While the mean age was probably 19-20, I was in my mid-40s. Some pimple-faced smartass approached me and asked, “What are you doing here, you fuckin’ old man?” Unperturbed, I responded by asking to see his wrist. After some “Wha?” from him, he showed me his stamp. “See that stamp?” He affirmed in a “What about it?” I continued, “See the stamp on the hands of everyone here? See the stamps on the band setting up?” He was getting angry(ier) and wanted to know my point (though he stated it in different words). I held up my clean hand: “Do you see any stamp on mine? No? That’s because I can walk in and out of this place any time I want. Can you?” At that moment, members of two different bands came over to me. “Robert! So glad you could make it,” giving me that man hug/back pat. I looked over at the kid, and he could only shrug his shoulders and walk away.

Yes, I like being on the list. The show could be for $50 or 50¢, it doesn’t matter. It’s sort of like the old First Nations’ “coup” (a bloodless game of war where you won by touching the opponent). But for me, no matter how I joke about this, it’s not something to be taken lightly, ever. When I’m on the list, for whatever the price of the ticket, for me it’s a contract that I intend to honor. I have never thought, “I’m not in the mood for the show; I’ll just blow it off because I didn’t pay for the ticket.” No, it’s a sacred bond; a promise on my part.

I’m not a musician, though I’ve tried both the guitar and bass. I’m untalented musically since I cannot remember chord streams and I have absolutely no sense of rhythm when it comes to actually playing. However, I still want to give to the scene, so what I do is a write and I photograph, making the photos accessible to the bands. This is how I contribute. Whenever I have been put on a list, I have reciprocated through documenting the show through reviews and/or photographs (lately, mostly on this blog). The bands can then use my thoughts and images for their own publicity. See, when I don’t pay cash to see a show, I still give my time, my mind, and my art in exchange, so it remains two-sided.

Since being in Saskatoon, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Johnny Winter, D.O.A., the Saskatoon Reggae and World Music Festival (including Jah Cutta), the Oral Fuentes Band, and Absofunkenlutely [AFL], while being on the entrance list. For the last three, it was pretty easy because I’m friendly with Oral, who is my neighbor, and through him met Randy Woods, leader of AFL; Oral also runs the Reggae Fest. Even with the personal connection, I have contributed solidly through photo and review.

With Winter and D.O.A., well, I asked their management or record company through emails. I had reviewed a bunch of Winter’s material previously, such as one DVD collection of his performances from the 1980s, and another of his shows in Germany from 1979. The management was uncertain about letting me in, I could tell, but after I published the review, they were quite happy and informed me they would let me know when any of their other artists hit town. For D.O.A., well, I’m sure Joey knows about my fanzine from the ‘70s-‘80s, which may have given me some extra credibility, and I’m hoping they liked the review and photos that are two blogs back from this one (see the list on the right).

Most of the time when I ask, especially with larger touring acts such Simon & Garfunkel or Roger Daltry who were to play in town (both cancelled), odds are I won’t hear anything back but the tumbleweeds, but it never hurts to ask. As S&G may have said, this is my blog for the asking, if you will.

That being said, do I consider myself a freebie whore? No, because part of the deal on my part is that I will be honest. If there is some act I see and don’t like, I was say so. I don’t whitewash just for a name at the door. When I agree to see a show, my end of the bargain includes my true opinion. I have had bands mad at me for saying they sounded out of tune, or were boring. Without honesty, there is no credibility. I am not merely a human press release, so it is a gamble for the band because of my sense to truthfulness, but it’s also one for me because the show may be, well, crap. Fortunately, most of the time, I have not been disappointed, and have had a blast.

So, you acts out there who are either in town or on tour coming this way, let me know, and if I say yes, I will be there, with camera and notepad in hand. But please, don’t forget to put me on the list (plus one).

Jersey Beat’s Quiet Corner, Fall 2011: Part 1 of 4

Text © Robert Barry Francos, 2011
Originally in Jersey Beat webzine, 2011
Images and video from the Internet

Here are the reviews that were in my Quiet Corner column at the excellent Jersey Beat webzine (jerseybeat.com). Rather than publish all the reviews at once, I will be publishing them on this blog a few at a time. If I found a video of an exact version of a song from the release, I attached it. Other videos by these artists (usually live) exist, so you can check them out.

If you are in a band and want me to review your release, be it CD, vinyl, DVD or digital, write to me at rbf55@msn.com, or if it’s digital, just send it along.

Living by the philosophy of “Play That Funky Music White Boy,” Saskatoon band ABSOFUNKINLUTELY is a large conglomeration of the usual suspect instruments, with the addition of horns (gotta have horns to have this large of a funk sound). Listing only their first names, there’s (Randy) Woods on vox and guitar, (Geoff) Assman on keys, (Shaun) Dyck on electric bass (now, while Assman and Dyck seem humorous, they are common names in their area), and newcomer to the band, (Jeff) Pierce on drums. Blues Kid City (afl.fm), their second release, is quite representative of their big sound: it’s loud, brash, and, well, funky. When I saw them play at the S’toon Pride Festival, they played covers, such as the one mentioned at the start of this review, but here, it’s all originals, beginning with the reggae / ska inflected title tune, and they don’t lose anything for it. There are a lot of related genres going through, from soul to R&B to funk. There is even some disco, which is where they lose me a bit, but that’s just me. There’s even some jazzy experimentation, such as the final free-for-all jam, “Moosejaw Coleslaw,” which has a bit of everything and reminds me just a bit of the energy of the ending of Curtis Mayfield’s “Move on Up” (a song AFL could do quite successfully). They are a friggin’ tight dance band, there is no getting around that, and the clear sound of this recording just makes it that much sweeter.



ATOM AGE uses a brilliant combination of Iggy and Jan & Dean for the name of their new release: Kill Surf City (Solidarity Recordings, c/o myspace.com/theatomage). Their music is both post-hardcore, and yet an enjoyable bit of a throwback to the Descendants kind of So-Cali sound (they’re from Berkeley). Part of what makes them especially interesting is their use of a sax. A saxophone in rock’n’roll can be a tricky thing as some use it for good (Fleshtones), and some are ruined by it (Chicago, Blood Sweat and Tears). The songs are fast (as expected, and should be), and the vocals are straightforward with some shouting. The meaning of the songs are, well, who cares, this is a fun release. Definitely buzz guitar upfront, even with no extended solo. There is a sense of humor that runs through; for example, there’s a cut called “Rock’n’Roll and Why I Preach Against It.” They seem to pick topics which are not just teen angst writ large (though there are some cuts like that, such as “One Minute to Midnight”). There is a lot of good music here, including (but not exclusively) “Cut and Dry” and “We Become”… certainly enough to be worth checking into. The core of the band is Ryan Perras (current drummer for The Queers), who proves side bands can also be successful. Many groups have hyperbolic press releases, but theirs nails it perfectly: “catchy melodies, demanding riffs, and hectic sax lines.” Recommended.



BODECO don’t rely on I-IV-V as much as they sweat it from their pores and wallow in it. When I saw the band play NYC’s Tramps in 1995, they performed a strong boogie-based blues. As their latest EP Soul Boost (myspace.com/guitaremporium) shows, they’re still going strong. There are some personnel changes since I saw them, but the core is still there, banging through these five numbers. The first two, “I Ain’t Lyin’” and “Hush Hush Naughty Baby” have that Ricky Feathers growl that has grown deeper over the years. The other three, “Zobop,” the title cut, and “Little Joe” are instrumentals. None of the songs are insanely fast, but rather they grind like a good smokin’ sound should. Whether one is into blues, roots, or just wants to hear some good ole music with a slight dissonance, in beautiful lo-fi, jump the train to Bodeco land. They’re callin’ all dogs.


LAURA CHEADLE is one of the more prolific artists in recent memory. Writing songs, playing guitar and singing, she is, as always, backed in her recording by her brother on electric guitar solos and her dad as producer (he as contributes various other instruments, including keyboards, mostly in the form of electric organ). There are a bunch of other musicians helping out to fill out the sound. Her newest is Change (It’s Alright) (lauracheadle.com), and it’s a little bit of a departure from her previous works. Sure, she’s still in the jazzy R&B mode, which suits her voice and material well, but there is more. Some of her earlier material had loose themes, be it holiday songs or steamy love bit, but this one is by far (in my opinion) her most mature work with well rounded sensibilities, great catch phrases, and her cleanest sound and mix. There’s still the steam, in the likes of “Hey There Devil” and the catchy “Sunday Naps,” but there’s also the R&B title cut burner which Marvin Gaye might nod at (no pun intended), and so on, like “Existing on Wishes,” “Blue Sky,” and “Rainy Day.” The last, unannounced track, is of a little girl singing, and as there is no reference, I’m not sure if that’s Laura as a kid or someone else, but it’s cute. Congrats, Laura.



This is some of the best post-Gizmos style of Midwest proto punk I have heard in a while. It’s hardly surprising, though, since CRAWLSPACE is fronted by ex-O. Rex and Gizmo member Eddie Flowers. Along with Greg Hajic (guitar), Joe Dean (bass) and Bob Lee (drum), the world is now the recipient of Ignorance is Bliss (gulcher.gemm.com). What you’ll hear is total lo-fi, hi-noise rock that is simply glorious in its sheer stripped down performances and recording (sounds like one of those early cassette recorders), with the needle staying in the red. Along with two covers, “First I Look at the Purse” (by Smokey Robinson) and “Mark of Death” (by the Mystics, as played in the ’73 film Horror Hospital), the rest are written by the band in one combination or another, and all remain true to form. In early-to-mid-‘70s style, some of the song titles are suspect, such as “(Here Come) Them Sexy 60s,” “Women in Cemeteries (Throwin’ Monkeys),” “Vote Yes on 69,” “The Girl’s Getting’ Lower,” and “Some Shitty Girls.” Despite that, this is a rollicking good time if you like the whole style, which I do. I would rather listen to something as fun as this, than anything on the Billboard Top 10, because there’s no studio tricks, just plug and play (and occasionally tune the guitar). If you’re looking for deep lyrics – hell, if you’re looking for legible lyrics – you’re in the wrong place. This is more a howl-fest, and I mean that with total joy, making it 40 minutes of noise heaven.



I’ve heard most of the recordings put to disk by DOLORES DAGENAIS, and have never been disappointed. Her latest full lengther, Big Girl Art (Blue Newt Music, c/o doloresdagenais.com), is no exception. Moving to Nova Scotia from Ontario has proven to be the right move for Dolores, who has wrapped herself in music from the area (it’s relatively close to Cape Breton, after all), and its influence has only sweetened the pot of her sound. First of all, she has this absolutely gorgeous voice that just keeps getting better with each release. Her material, always strong, has also flourished, as she covers various Canadiana styles from the folkie “Weeping Tiles,” to the Celtic “Big Girl,” to the country “When I Didn’t Know How to Sing.” She even rocks a bit with “Where the Wild Things Grow.” And damn, that’s just the first four cuts. And I can’t stop without mentioning the bluegrassy “Present Situation” or the boogie “Talking to Jack” (Daniels, of course); “Pushing Flowers,” as is everything else here, is an original, but it sounds like it could have been written by Judy Collins or Joan Baez. For the sweet country ballad “Never Seen the Mountains,” Dolores shares a vocal with the duo of Postcard Comets. This isn’t even the whole album, but there’s not a cut here that won’t astound you with its beauty. While I’m glad Dolores is living where her interests lie, but parts of me wishes someone with some promoting power would realize what a treasure is hidden in Pictou.



JEFF DAHL, who has been around the California scene since the ‘70s, wears his influences on his – er – guitar. Picture a bit of MC5 and the Stooges, mixed with the simplicity of the Ramones, and the sloppy guitar of Johnny Thunders, topped off with a crisp West Coast voice and sound, and you’ll have Back to Monkey City (steelcagerecords.com). His songs reflect his rock’n’roll heart with the likes of “I Am a Mess” and “I Ain’t No Rattlesnake,” and a nod to his influences with “All My Favorite Ramones are Dead” and “This Ain’t No Funhouse Baby.” His hardcore background comes out in the likes of the buzzsaw “Dense Pac,” which lasts all of 57 seconds. While there is a heavy rock vibe going on, this is hardly metal. Dahl’s songs are pretty simple and memorable, and his voice is quite suited for the material. Dahl has a long history in the scene, and hopefully he’ll continue to produce collections like this one.


A true love story: the guy who runs Acetate Records has been a fan of THE FACTORY since he used to watch them playing around Washington DC in the early ‘80s. Recently coming across an old demo cassette by the band from that period, he got in touch with a member of the group who managed to lay his hands on the master tapes, which were never released. After some mixing, he releases their first ever official self-titled album (acetate.com). I can see what he likes about them, as they are pretty much from the pre-hardcore, post-NYC+ scene period when anything went. The Factory shimmy across styles, sometimes sounding like the Dolls, others glossier like the Cars (the sax helps promote this). The vocalist, Vance Brockis, has a style that was popular then, modeled a bit on garage bands like Chocolate Watchband, where there is a hint of slur with intonations like “fay-vuh” (favor), “shy-eh” (she), or “guhll” (girl), but he definitely has some chops. The band backing him is pretty solid, so that helps as well. A fun band who mixes ‘50s (rhythms and again, that horn…), ‘60s (garage) and ‘70s (the whole CBGB/Max’s/Rat vibe). And you can dance to it.


Cry Tomorrow (Bellsound, c/o myspace.com/ stephaniefinchmusic), the release by keyboardist STEPHANIE FINCH, is produced by Chuck Prophet, who used to be in Green and Red. She plays in his band, so it’s a very organic process. Stephanie does really well with jangling powerpop, such as the opening, “Tina Goodbye,” but she really starts to shine on the third cut, “Don’t Back Out,” which is a tasty bit of psyche-garage. This song is based on dissonant keys with a bit of a Velvets feel, but its success is all hers. Speaking of the VU, the cut “Sensitive Boys” has a rhythm riff that could have been lifted from “Walk on Wild Side,” though the tune is definitely different and quite more melodic in a light, jaunty way. There are actually quite a few good numbers here, such as “She’s the One,” spookily backed by the Company Men who sing in concert rather than harmony. With “In My Book,” she brings up a more Motown-meets-Brill Building sounds. “Count the Days 1-2-3-4-5-6-7” is a really well done “I’m splittin’” tune in a “These Boots” attitude, but in a musically subtle way. Ending the CD is “All is Forgiven,” which is almost a folk pop rock tune, and a fine way to end. Now, I didn’t mention every song here, but it’s a collection that will not disappoint if you’re into the powerpop-rock-kitchy-‘60s kinda thing, like me.



It took me a few songs to warm up to The Movie We Are In (petefrancis.com), the newest release by New York-based PETE FRANCIS, who used to be in the band Dispatch. While I haven’t heard any of his solo, self-produced releases, he experiments a bit here by changing all the elements surrounding the music, including coast (east to west), and relying on producer Jeff Trott (Sheryl Crow’s guitarist) who brought in some mainstream studio musicians (for Beck, NiN, Gnarls Barkley, etc.) to back him up. Pete likes to tell personal landscapes (thereby the collection title), and he does so successfully in various forms, tempos, and hues, including singer-songwriter (mostly). Some of the better cuts include “Light Years,” “Red Cloud Road,” and one of my faves here, “Yellowbird.” His voice is not American Idol perfect, thankfully, and would easily make a good rock sound, but it works here as well. There is a definite Leonard Cohen vocal feel going, though not as deep. My only gripe is Trott’s heavy hand, trying to “modernize” the sound with programming and synth (such as “Constant Fire”). Sometimes a full backing enhances (e.g., Dar Williams), but others, it distracts. To show you what I mean, here is the listing of instruments used: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, lap steel guitar, strings, keyboards, vibraphone, percussion, celesta, bells, drum programming, strings, piano, Wurlitzer organ, synthesizer, laptop, tenor saxophone, baritone saxophone, trombone, trumpet, and drums. Luckily, the voice is kept pretty upfront so it doesn’t get lost in all the technology.

Oral Fuentes Band, Live at the Bassment, February 18, 2011

Text, photos, and video © Robert Barry Francos
Photos can be enlarged by clicking on them

When one thinks of reggae, the tendency is to imagine palm trees swaying, warm breezes blowing, and a possible hint of a green aroma in the air.* That being said…

February 18, 2011 was a cold and blustery evening, and it was also the opening night of the Bassment’s Mardi Gras Fest 2011, and the band they chose to be the lead-off was the Oral Fuentes Band. Some of us went down there to check out just the first of the two 1-hour sets, but we joyfully ended up staying for both.

The Bassment is one of the eminent jazz club of Saskatoon, unassuming from its side entranceway of the old post office building. Many great musicians play at the small club, whose stature has risen over the years. The last time there I was able to catch master pianist Don Griffith.

Oral Fuentes is probably the best known reggae musician in Saskatoon, who moved to the Saskatchewan city in the early 1990s, from his native Belize. He brought with him a rich culture of music and open-mindedness. Over the years, he has started and leads the Saskatoon Reggae and World Music Festival during the summer months, but for this show, he was there for his musicianship.

It would be completely filled, but when we got there, we grabbed a table up front, so we had a wide open view of the stage, and of the musicians, who all also play in various other groups, mostly jazz-oriented. From left to right, they were:

Originally from Ghana, percussionist Joseph Ashong was a total powerhouse, moving around the stage with his various drums, intermingling with the other musicians, and obviously having a grand time, which passed some energy to the audience. Everything about him was expressive, from his facial expressions to his bulging biceps. It was so obvious he was having fun.

On lead guitar was Randy Woods, who also fronts one of the town’s exceptional funk groups, Absofunkinlutely. A big man, he quietly stood in the back and let Oral be in full control. Randy and Oral have been playing together for years, and they both appear on each other’s albums. Randy is great at both keeping rhythm and tearing the atmosphere on his solos. While I’ve seen his group perform at the Pride Festival last year, and have enjoyed his two albums, this was the first time I had the opportunity to talk to him, albeit briefly.

Front and center is Oral, whose specialty is (according to the Bassment’s program) “reggae, soca, punta-rock, and brukdown.” They left off the most important one: fun. There are two Orals on stage housed in one body. The first is the person who gets into the music on an obviously spiritual level, flowing with the sound and singing from the heart. The other is the bandleader, who knows exactly how to work the band into a solid unit through subtle signals and signs. As this group has worked together in various forms over the years, they can “read” each other, permitting experimentation and solos without egos bashing. Oral does well in giving the others times to shine.

In a neat shirt and tie is drummer Kevin Pierce, well known in the jazz circles in town. He sets a rhythm going, and doesn’t let up. And not once did he loosen the tie, alone worth the marvel. Add the stick-work, and you have yourself a powerful juju.

Mike Kereiff plays a mean trombone, one with a South Park image on the end. He may not have killed Kenny, but his playing would do away with boredom, that’s certain. He wielded it like a sword and cut a swath through the sound.

Dave Nelson, on trumpet, was, as far as I knew, the only other Yank than me in the room. Up from Washington, he shone during his solos. After the sets, I went over and said hi from one American to another. Cool guy with a hot horn. His solos were something to wonder at in admiration.

Last is Zender Millar on electric bass. His long beard and even longer pony-tail (going well down below his belt line) belay a firm bottom that completes the rhythm section. He is a solid player, and while not moving around the stage much, his playing line gave everyone room to both move, and a rhythmic residence to for the others to come back home.

The dance floor of the Bassment was set up to the far side of stage left, and people were definitely swaying to the riddem. At some point, two of the dancers (Dave and Kirsten, an artist who works in leather hides) danced in front of the band during the last number of the first set, which was fun to watch.

By the time we went home, we were exhausted from the energy level in the room. We bundled up for the very snowy and cold evening, and hurried home, both shivering from the weather and warm from the echoes of the sounds left in our heads.

















































* Unless you’re a British punker, of course.
More photos can be found here:
http://entertainment.webshots.com/album/579825194Ogdgwa