Showing posts with label Cheetah Chrome. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cheetah Chrome. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

THE SKELS with a Live CHEETAH (CHROME)

Text by Julia Masi, 1982
Introductory text by Robert Barry Francos, 2010
© By FFanzeen
Images from the Internet


The following article/interview with The Skels was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #9, in 1982. It was conducted and written by Julia Masi, and I was also present for the rehearsal, interview and brief photoshoot on St. Mark’s Place, though my memory of the whole experience is kind of weak.

Bassist Gerry Lambe (not to be confused with the British musician of the Skunks) died around 1986 after a long career on the New York scene. Cheetah Chrome, infamous for so many reasons, including his tenure with the Dead Boys, now has a powerful new autobiography out called A Dead Boy’s Tale, which had been reviewed last month in this blog (ffanzeen.blogspot.com/2010/09/book-review-dead-boys-tale-by-cheetah.html). In the book, there is little mention of the Skels, so here is my contribution to honor the history of Cheetah. – RBF, 2010


In a dark, musty studio on West 27th Street, Cheetah Chrome and his band, the Skels – Gerry Lambe, bass, and Jeff Miller, drums – are absorbed in practice for an upcoming gig in Baltimore. Almost oblivious to an audience of two jaded rock’n’roll journalists, the Skels seem every bit as intense, polished, and energetic in rehearsal as they do in actual performance.

But the band isn’t satisfied. In unison, they interrupt the flow of smooth-sounding “Sonic Reducer,” crack a few jokes, tune their guitars, pinpoint their problem and try it again. A series of similar stops and starts punctuate the rehearsal, magnifying the camaraderie, seriousness and sweat that make the Skels one of the tightest new trios in New York.

All three have been in bands before: Cheetah, who started out in his native Detroit with Frankenstein, and Rocket From the Tombs, reaches his peak of success with the Dead Boys in the late ‘70s; Jeff’s been a studio musician here and abroad, as well as playing with bands like Wayne County & the Electric Chairs, and the Fast; and Gerry’s a veteran of the local scene, most recently with Disgrace. From their combined experience, they know what it takes to make or break a band, and the Skels is where they put their knowledge to the test.

“Three creative people all working together. That’s a band. That’s this band, at least,” said Cheetah. “It’s a real exclusive club. The only way anybody’s gonna join is if they are brought in by another member of the band. It’s like the Guardian Angels. You’ve gotta be sponsored.” They frequently kick around the idea of having another member, but at this point it’s not in their immediate plans. “I’ve decided it’s a five piece band, ‘cause me and the drummer are both skitz,” Cheetah quipped. “Before this band started, before I had these two buys, it was a four piece or a three piece, depending on who showed up for the gig. It became a big pain in the ass for me to do a three piece. I had to sing, play guitar, dance around and balance an egg on my heard or something. It got to feel like I was doing too much work. With these guys, they’re so solid; I can play whenever I want to.

“Before I was playing in a trio that should have been a four piece. Now, I’m playing with a trio. Another guitar would be nice, but at the same time it isn’t necessary. And I like the extra bread!”

“Three piece, if you screw up it’s more evident. But four piece, it’s sloppier,” noted Jeff. “To me, it’s convenient. We only have one guy doing his job. If we have another player, what am I gonna tell him about lead guitar? What is he gonna tell me about drums? And vice versa. We each do our own thing. He can hear, obviously, if all of a sudden I screw up and I play in 7/8 when I’m supposed to be playing in 4/4.

“The thing that’s great about this group is that nobody’s retarded. Like in almost every group I’ve played there’s always been one guy you had to drag along. It’s like, ‘Duh, what do I play here?’ And you have to do [he imitates a guitar] do-do-do. ‘Oh, yeah, right. That riff.’ But everybody knows what the hell they’re doing. Like he’ll [Cheetah] start a song and we’ll come in.”

“I think the band falls into different categories,” explains Gerry. “We could do a bill with somebody like Iggy Pop and be compatible. We have the same raw energy he has. Whereas we can also do gigs with a band like the Stray Cats. ‘Federal Case’ and ‘I Don’t Know’ are basic 12 bar rock’n’roll. Or we could open for a heavy metal band.”

But the only type of music that they all feel they are incompatible with is hardcore punk. Jeff feels “a responsibility” to his audience because he knows that “there are young drummers in the audience. I don’t want them to see us and go back and pick up sloppy habits. What will it be in a year? Hardcore will be dead and we’ll have another trend. Why can’t we just have bands anymore?”

“It’s real weird ‘cause I’m the oldest in the band; I’m 27,” said Cheetah. “And when I was with the Dead Boys, I met Jeff. He was just this young whipper-snapper. He’s two years younger than me. I watched Jeff grow from this kid form Queens who used to come to our gigs and playin’ with the Fast and the Dictators, and playin’ with Wayne (County) and watchin’ him develop. And Gerry, the Dead Boys were to Gerry like the Stooges were to me: somebody to identify with. It’s great because I’m playin’ with two people that I’ve influenced, in a way.

“I met a little kid who came up to me and said, ‘I learned to play guitar to your records.’ It makes me feel good that somebody sat down with my records and took the time to learn. ‘Sonic Reducer’ is a standard for bar bands to cover. The Bad Brains, I think, said in their press kit, that the band was formed after one of the members listened to a Dead Boys album. To me that’s mission accomplished.

“Right now, we’re gonna do our gigs with the set we’ve got, but we’ll enlarge the band every time. We’ll add a couple of new tunes. With these guys, I really find myself trying to develop more as a guitar player and extending myself more, which is something I haven’t done. I haven’t felt such a creative outburst like this (before)!”

As the band evolves, they intend to get Gerry up to the mic to sing. “Yeah, let it be said,” commented Jeff, “that our bass player can sing very, very well. He just doesn’t want to.”

“If Gerry would just get off his ass…’ nagged Cheetah in feigned annoyance, “I’d get a break. This guy can sing the ‘Hippy Hippy Shake’ real good, but he won’t do it. You know why? ‘Cause he’s shy.” Although the brown-eyed bass player didn’t seem the least bit shy during this interview, he still won’t sing no matter how much this reporter begged.

“Eventually Gerry is gonna sing,” Cheetah confirmed. “It’s a fact of life he’ll just have to deal with. During the set we’ll time it so that he does the song and I’ll take a break and just play guitar. I’d like to do some instrumentals.” He also intends to incorporate more of Jeff and Gerry’s songs, which are heavily influenced by the ‘60s and rhythm & blues, into their act.

“We’re looking forward to gettin’ into that,” Cheetah noted, “but right now the main thing was to get a set down that we could stand by.

“As soon as we got this band together, all of a sudden it just clicked. And I just said, ‘Let’s get to work.’ The creative spark is there. If I don’t have a part for a song, these guys will come up with it. We don’t just rehearse together and let things happen. We talk about it. I didn’t want back-up musicians. I had that. That’s why it’s just ‘The Skels.’ Right now, it’s ‘The Skels featuring Cheetah Chrome,’ but that’s only so everybody knows what the name of my new band is. Eventually, I don’t see why it can’t be the Skels featuring all three of us.”

“We wanna be one of the top new groups,” admitted Jeff. “The problem in New York is that nobody wants to forget. I used to like the Dead Boys, but we’re not trying to be the Dead Boys. We’re not tryin’ to be anybody but the Skels.

“And there’s another thing that Cheetah pointed out at the first gig we did. He gave a rap about how there are a lot of hardcore band out there, bands that are going back to punk and ska, everything but good rock’n’roll bands. That speech was really weird, but it means something.”

What it means is that there is a rock’n’roll audience ready and waiting for the Skels, as they found out when they played Baltimore. Despite all their anxiety over a slightly imperfect rehearsal, the gig came off without a hitch and the crowd loved them.

About Baltimore, Cheetah remarked, “The band was incredible. They just kept me going. They just fired me up. It was the best gig I had since the Dead Boys. I got this rush, and I just started sweatin’. I can always tell how good a gig is by how much I sweat.”

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Book Review: “A Dead Boy’s Tale” by Cheetah Chrome

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen
Book cover image and video from the Internet


A Dead Boy’s Tale: From the Front Lines of Punk Rock
By Cheetah Chrome
MBI Publishing / Voyageur Press (Minneapolis, MN), 2010
368 pages; USD $24.00 / CAN $27.00W
ISBN: 978-0-7603-3773-8
www.voyageurpress.com


I really don’t know Cheetah Chrome. Yeah, I saw him in the Dead Boys quite a few times, including many shows opening for the Damned, and a couple of the Johnny Blitz benefits at CB’s. Then there was the Skels, when Julia Masi and I interviewed him and hung out with the band for an afternoon, with Julia taking photos of them on St. Mark’s Place. Nancy Foster and I also saw him pair up with John Spacely at the Johnny Thunders memorial in the early ‘90s. It’s been more than a dozen shows, and we’re Facebook friends, but I really don’t know Cheetah Chrome.

Thanks to his new (and hopefully first) autobiography, A Dead Boy’s Tale: From the Front Lines of Punk Rock , just released by Voyageur Press, I have a better idea of the man behind the blazing guitar.

Despite a long history of erratic behavior and substance abuse, Cheetah’s still here… well, in Nashville, anyway. Many of the people discussed in the book are not, such as Stiv Bators, Peter Laughner, Johnny Thunders, Joey Ramone, Hilly Krystal (and his dog Jonathan), Ron Ashton, John Spacely… Fortunately, his synapses survived as well, enough to write an autobiography on his life-thus-far.

The book is dense as he describes growing up in a poor area of Cleveland, as he turns from orange haired tyke to teen, getting in and out of trouble, and one can argue that the detail is perhaps too much (hell, everyone really wants to hear those back stage and road stories, right?), but I argue that Cheetah cleverly sews a solid picture of what he is to be, prefacing his rise to relative prominence by describing his finding of music as a force, his various guitars, and the early hints of indulgences.

[Dead Boys during Blitz Benefit at CBGB's]

On the other hand, I found the last quarter of the book to be a bit thin, without mention of some of his work, like with the Skels (other than in the preface), focusing more on his fighting addiction than making music. Yeah, it’s in there, but as he made music a hobby rather than a career (his description) at one point, for his own health, he talks more about his life off the road than on. Perhaps he thought we would be more interested only in his earlier work? Or maybe the book company gave him a limit of pages? It’s possible that he was zonked out and just doesn’t remember that period well?

But don’t get me wrong, this work keeps the reader interested from beginning to end, and I am hoping that the less detailed spots are just lead-up to the next book (From a Dead Boy to a Live Man, may I suggest as a title, with a firm nudge and smile?). And rather than just whining about his addictions or glorifying them (like Jim Carroll’s Basketball Diaries), Cheetah’s approach is just to talk as himself, without trying to justify or damn his actions and experiences much. It’s a brave stance, and one that should be applauded.

The key focus of the book is from Rocket From the Tombs, through especially his Dead Boys period in the ‘70s. There is lots of Pete Moon level machismo bravado, destroyed hotel rooms, and sexual hijinks, much of it fuel by, well, you know. Lots of it will make you laugh, some of it will make you wince, and, well, other than the performances, may make you glad to be reading it from a distance of time. I remember being backstage at CBGB’s in 1977, for example, talking to the Dead Boys, and keeping my finger over the mouth of my beer as they were infamous for peeing in any open drink they could find, in good fun of course.

While Cheetah may not have the lyrically poetic background of a Carroll (I’m happy to say), he certainly is a fine writer and a strong wit, while describing his life. He is blunt, takes blame where it is his, rarely makes apologies, and even makes his ex-, the strong-willed Gyda Gash, look favorable despite their famously volatile time together. When he doesn’t like someone, however, he also does not hold back, such as the producer of the Dead Boys’ second LP, a colossal failure, the legendary (and wrong choice) Felix Pappalardi (who was later shot to death 5 years later by his wife).

It is ironic that Slash would supply the quote on the cover, rightfully stating Cheetah’s contribution to rock’n’roll. Their biographies are actually quite similar in thread (though Cheetah’s does not bludgeon the language with numerous repitions, as Slash does with “all things considered…). They are both from rough neighborhoods and family life, found solace in sex and drugs and music (specifically on guitar), are quite frank about their excesses, and have achieved a modicum of success. It’s true that Slash’s star rose higher, but honestly, if I had a choice between “Welcome to the Jungle” and “Sonic Reducer,” the latter would win every time. Cheetah intrigues me more and his book is definitely more satisfying (I will keep this one, and have just sold Slash’s hardcover at a garage sale for $1, if that helps give you an idea).

[At the Johnny Thunders memorial]

There are some cool B&W photos throughout (I’ve included a couple of my own here, that are not not in the book, so there), and the pages, well, they just fly by.

This is a joy to read, and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who is interested in an early view of what would become punk rock and arguably, in the Dead Boys’ case, proto-hardcore. I want to personally thank Cheetah for being so forthcoming, bringing me joyous hours listening to him play, getting the chance to read about his life, and for being true to who he is, whether it’s in a pharmaceutical haze of his early days or his straight living now.

After you finish reading this, get Young, Loud and Snotty and blast it, and check out some of his other contributions (a discography would have been a nice addition, but here is one online: discogs.com/artist/Cheetah+Chrome).

Finally, I want to add that the forward to the book by Legs McNeil is a fun read not just because he was there and is a punk “name,” but he sets up, through personal experience, a view into Cheetah’s mindset.

And check for Cheetah’s new band, Batusis (with Sylvain Sylvain) who are touring.