On Tour with 3-D [1980]

Text by Julia Masi / FFanzeen, 1980

Introduction by Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020

Images from the Internet

This article / interview was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #5, dated August/September 1980. It was written by the Managing Editor of the magazine, Julia Masi.

The band 3-D had a couple of hits, two albums, and even played on “Saturday Night Live” (hosted by Steve Martin). Despite the protestations in the interview below, they were very New Wave, as we understand it in hindsight.

Since the break-up, lead singer Rick Zivic opened up his own recording studio in New York, and is fronting the Rockin’ Red White and Blues Band. For Ted Wender, he joined with Zivic in 1989 and created a production company that specializes in videos for commercials, television programs and industrial companies. Ted also formed the group Jazzmatik, and created MusiCan, a philanthropic organization to help kids with music programs in indigent neighborhood public schools. Keiv Ginsberg’s other claim to fame is that he played guitar for the Blues Brothers, including on their albums (which may explain how they got to play on "SNL"). Producer and bassist Nick Stevens has worked with many artists over the years, including Impulse Manslaughter. – RBF, 2020

“The basic premise of the group is that we’re songwriters and we’re evolving. We don’t write one type of song. We write about a lot of different things. We’re a band with a lot of visual ideas,” says Rick Zivic, winsome, brown-eyed lead singer and lyricist of 3-D. The group is best known for the songs “X-Ray Eyes,” “All Night Television” and “Telephone Number,” which reflect that philosophy.

3-D includes keyboard player Ted Wender, drummer Mike Find, guitarist Keiv Ginsberg, and Nick Stevens on bass, all native New Yorkers. Zivic hails from Pittsburgh. Recently, 3-D returned to New York City after completing a 40-date national tour with the J. Geils Band, to do a very successful spot on “Saturday Night Live,” and work on their second album for Polydor Records.

Zivic seemed relaxed and ambitious as he sat in a spacious white room of the band’s Greenwich Village loft and recounted stories from the road. Touring is nothing new for 3-D. They’ve been on the road before with the Fabulous Poodles, the Romantics, and Mitch Ryder. But this was the first time they experienced a backlash from the audience over the band’s visual image:

“Because of the way we looked, not necessarily because of the music, people immediately associated us as either being from England or being New Wave. In certain markets we found that there is still an on-going battle between the New Wave thing and the old wave thing, which is, to me, a little bit bullshit, because New Wave means nothing to me – old wave means nothing to me. It’s just that if you play rock’n’roll, there’s different variations of it. We got encores. It was unbelievable. Detroit was the same way. They’re the two roughest rock’n’roll markets in the world to hit, and they loved us.

“Initially, when we started the tour, we played Providence. This was our first experience hearing and seeing the Geils crowd. And it was 10,000 of them, and they were gonzo-Geils people. We came out to do our set and all of a sudden it was like a war zone. Nickels being thrown up (on stage). Quarters being heated with their lighters and thrown up. Bottles and every type of debris coming up. I did a jump and in mid-air saw a coin come up and hit me right below the eye. For 2-1/2-3 weeks, I had this incredible black eye.”

Despite the unfriendly welcome they received, 3-D was undaunted by the crowd. “I just finished the set and left the stage. I said, ‘Fuck you,’ which was really stupid. It was very new for us. At that point, I should have gotten the hell out of there.”

The band stuck it out and was well received on their next few gigs. Once they got to know the Geils crowd, they started to re-evaluate their set. Much of 3-D’s material borders on a new sound, “But to get a lot of the gonzo mentality you wanna power-drive them,” he smiled, “so we started trimming out some of the things that give people time enough to react and maybe obliterate us.”

Their precautions were in vain. In Tampa, someone threw a bottle of Jack Daniels on stage. It hit Nick Stevens in the face, but luckily bounced off him before it cracked on the floor. Zivic decided to fight back with his audience. “I started to get like a mad dog,” he recalled, but the more he answered back and singled out his hecklers, the better they liked it. Their record company even received fan mail about it, but Rick tends to be naturally nonchalant, and isn’t ready to reembrace a stage personality. “You’re here to play music and it’s like tripe. Out of 10,000 people, there are just 100 people who are rowdy about it.”

Most of the bands who have toured with J. Geils have left the tour early, but nothing could make 3-D throw in the towel. Not even the festival seating at a concert in Oakland. “There are no seats,” Zivic explained, “and the kids stood in front of the stage, all the way back. And they’re either belligerent, or they’re gone. At this point, you had to be a gladiator to go out there.”

The tour ended in Providence and the band was a little leery about going back there. They had gotten used to the favorable receptions they got in most of the South, Texas, the West Coast and especially by Geils’ hometown of Boston. “I had this incredible phobia about Providence the night we came back. It was such an accomplishment. We had started at the point we were totally naïve, to the point of just saying, ‘We’re gonna rock, and we’re here to rock, and if you wanna get into it, great. If not, go fuck yourselves and get outta here’.”

The band is already looking forward to their next tour when they hope to include some video work into their show. “We had a big plan on ‘X-Ray Eyes’ and ‘All Night Television’ to do two videos on the new material. But we’re definitely doing a 3-D film for the next tour.” He speculated, “I think 3-D’s a thing we have to do ‘cause it’s definitely a thing of the future. And I think we should be the first ones to get into it.”

THE SIC F*CKS: The Ultimate Punk Band [1977-78]

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 1977

Photos can be made larger by clicking on them
Videos from the Internet
 

This interview was originally published in Issue 3 of FFanzeen, dated Winter/Spring 1978-79.

Be warned, the Sic F*cks in their day were crude and lewd, but what would you expect from a band named the Sic F*cks anyway. My guess is they picked their name in a similar fashion to Led Zeppelin. But that’s conjecture.

I don’t know what happened to the John Cale tapes, but in 1982, the Sic F*cks released an Adny Shernoff-produced and self-titled 5-song 12”-er on Sozyamuda Records. The musicians listed on the record playing with Russell, Tish, and Snooky are Bob Hopeless on guitar, Dick String on lead guitar, Stink on bass, and Harry Viderci on drums. For all I know, these are the same people who were playing with them when I interviewed them. 

One side is dedicated to one song, “(Take Me To) The Bridge,” a droll spoof of the Talking Heads’ “Take Me to the River.” However, the other side is so much more fun. There’s – in order of listing – “Spanish Bar Mitzvah,” “Rock or Die,” “Insects Rule My World,’ and that Sic F*cks classic, “Chop Up Your Mother.” Two of the songs, “Rock or Die” and “Chop Up Your Mother” were performed (well, lip synced, anyway) by the band in the 1982 horror film, Alone in the Dark, which starred Donald Pleasant and future Oscar winners Martin Landau and Jack Palance.

While the physical form is gone now, thanks to greedy landlords, Tish and Snooky have have successfully turned Manic Panic into a multi-million dollar hair coloring enterprise that started out as mail order, and is presently in drug stores and supermarkets (including the local Shoppers Drug Mart here in Saskatoon). Behind the scenes helping them is first wave punk scenester and bassist for the likes of Judas Priestess, Gyda Gash, who is Manic Panic’s webmistress.

The Manic Panic website is www.manicpanic.com, and tell ‘em I sent ya.

It was the first really hot night of 1978, the night I interviewed members of that fun group known musically and affectionately as The Sic F*cks (“All that’s missing is ‘U’”). Present were lead singer/guitarist Russell Wolinsky, and the back-up singers, Snooky and Tish, also known as the Bellomo sisters. Not present were the rest: guitarist Norman Schoenfeld, guitarist Joey Schaedler, bassist Jim Aresca, and drummer Greg Wassil. The following took place in Tish and Snooky’s clothing store, Manic Panic (St. Mark’s Place & Second Avenue):

Russell Wolinsky: Alright Trigger, how much is two and two?

Tish Bellomo: I ain’t tellin’ you. Why should I do your math homework for you?

FFanzeen: Okay, you wanna tell, like, the background to how you got into Barbara Markay & Hot Box, and all that?

Snooky Bellomo: No! We were bamboozled into that. We were tricked. It was disgusting. They promised us two hundred dollars a week to sing and dance and they never paid us.

FFanzeen: You were in another group at the time?

Tish: Our first real group – well it wasn't a real group – our first group was the Porno Rock Revue. Some of our songs were originals, sort of in the line of the Sic F*cks: “Jerk Off Blues” and “Sit On My Face,” and stuff like that; and then we had Rugby songs. We were in Blondie.

FFanzeen: Blondie?

Snooky: We were the Bonzai Babies.

Russell: You were in Blondie? You know Debbie?!

Tish: We can get you an autograph. Then we were in Gorilla Rose and the Gutterettes. [Then] the Dropouts, who are now the Accidents. They were our back-up group. We fronted them. After that –

Russell: – The rest is history.

Tish: Well, during the time we were in the Dropouts, we did that Barbara Markay thing. It was just a fiasco. And then we were still in the Dropouts and then we started doing guest spots, you know, we did the thing with The Sic F*cks, and because of that we got thrown out of the Dropouts – now Accidents. Cruel band. Naw, we’re still friends.

Russell: How’s that for a success story?

FFanzeen: How did The Sic F*cks start?

Russell: There I was, in a five thousand watt [radio station in Fresno, California] – I had never played on stage before and I had been threatening to do an audition at CBGB for years. Well, maybe one year.

Tish: I would say more like two months.

Russell: Actually, the day before – no, so one day I was drunk at CBGB and I decided I could do better than the band playing. I kept on drinking and I thought I could do better than any of the bands playing. I knew Joey and Norman for a long time. They introduced me to Jim, our bass player, and at first we used the sound man at The Bottom Line [the club where Russell works – ed.], Ronald. So it was going to be the five of us for the audition. We had written the songs, like “Saint Louis Sucks” and “Chop Up Your Mother.” We told them (Tish & Snooky) about it. I know them from throwing up all over them.

Tish: No, Russell was throwing up all over himself in the front seat of the car, and I was in the back seat.

Russell: So, anyway, they were just opening up the store here and we told them about the band, and they said, “When do we start?” and it was like, one of those great ideas, like Edison inventing the light bulb or something. This is just what we need to make things whole for us.

Snooky: And the rest is history.

Russell: We had one more rehearsal, they worked out their own parts and we went up on stage. August 1, 1977, I’ll never forget it.

Snooky: Was that when it was? We have to celebrate.

Russell: I wanna do a first year anniversary show at CBGB.

Snooky: Yeah, great! A Tuesday night!

Russell: I’m trying to work it so everyone gets a free beer on the house.

FFanzeen: That’ll be right after this comes out.

Russell: Well, if they don’t get the free beer, don’t be disappointed. Anyway, we did it. I didn’t tell that many people about it, but this incredible amount of people, what was it, 300 people were there.

Tish: It broke the CBGB record at any rate.

Russell: It was an audition night record.

Tish: And Lisa (Kristal) said, “Dad will be sooo pleased,” as she looked down at the green. Did Handsome Dick show up?

Russell: Handsome Dick sang “Wild Thing” with us. You were wearing Girl Scout uniforms. The only time you surprised me was when you played in blackface. We told the crowd that it wasn’t Tish & Snooky, but The Chocolatettes from Detroit.

FFanzeen: The first time I saw you, you were wearing cut-out plastic garbage bags.

Russell: That was the night Snooky had the fight.

Snooky: Oh my fight? Yeah, because I was wearing a garbage bag. Robert Gordon doesn’t like garbage bags.

Russell: He likes paper ones.

Snooky: He was very upset. Robert’s my boyfriend and he didn’t like me wearing garbage bags on stage.

Russell: Only around the house.

FFanzeen: How did Manic Panic get started?

Russell: They said, “Hey let’s start a store.” 

Tish: We just decided to have the first punk rock clothing store in New York. My personal thing is I would wear things to CBGB and they were copied about two weeks later. So I figured why not sell it.

Snooky: It’s not like we said, “punk rock’s gonna be the next big thing, let’s cash in on it.” It just happened to be what we were into.

Russell: So they said, “this is going be the next big thing let’s cash in on it.”

Tish: I used to go to a designing school for a few months and I quit. I’ve always been into fashion and I always wanted to have a store.

FFanzeen: How did you pick a name like Sic F*cks?

 Russell: It’s just a parody of a punk rock name. You’ve got to remember we never expected to do it more than once, a one shot deal. Unfortunately, it was taken the wrong way. People come in and expect to see the ultimate punk show: throwing up; fornication.

FFanzeen: Instead they get Jewish jokes.

Russell: Borscht Belt rock and roll.      

Tish: Why did the Negroes move out of the outhouse?

Russell: Why?

Tish: The Puerto Ricans were making too much noise.

FFanzeen: What are your influences?

Russell: Alcohol.

Snooky: Durwood Kirby.

Russell: The usual. Henny Youngman, the Ramones, the Dictators, Jonathan Richman.

Tish: The Shangri-La’s. Vaginitus. The sixties in general. Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts. The Rugby sounds.

FFanzeen: What do you listen to now?

Russell: “I Got a Right” by Iggy. “Rhapsody in the Rain” by Lou Christie, I listen to that a lot.

Tish: Herman’s Hermits. I still listen to those 45s. There’s some good new stuff here and there.

Russell: Yeah, ABBA. I like ABBA.

Tish: You would. Typical.

FFanzeen: How does a typical Sic F*ck song get written?

Russell: We get a case of beer. We always start with the title, then me, Joey, and Norman write the music, then I write the words over the music, then they (Tish & Snooky) fill their parts in. Well, there we were, trying to think up a name for “Chop Up Your Mother.”

Tish: We were blasting that outside the store last night. All these people were outside listening to the tape.

FFanzeen: Can you give me couple of your song titles?

Tish: We can give you all of them.

Russell: Even songs we don’t do anymore, if you want. Their song, “A Girl Like Me,” “Chop Up Your Mother,” “Teenage Abortion,” “Let’s Eat,” “Faster and Louder,” both of which were written before “Let’s Eat” by Nick Lowe and “Faster and Louder” by The Dictators.

Tish: “Ride the New Wave.” “Insects Rule My World.”

Russell: “Spanish Bar-Mitzvah.”

Tish: “Toni Tennille.” “Fags on Acid.” A classic.

FFanzeen: I came by here a while ago and someone said you were recording with John Cale.

Russell: We did that already.

Tish: Old news.

Snooky: Ancient history. Old Wave news.

FFanzeen:  Is it coming out as a single?

Tish: An EP.               

Snooky: It has nine songs. The title is “Rock It to Poland.”

Russell: It was supposed to come out June sixth. Don’t hold your breath. I like John, but I would have done the recording differently.

Tish: Yeah, he didn’t pay for our coffee.

Russell: Yeah.

FFanzeen: Do you think your name will hold you back?

Russell: It’s holding us back now. That’s probably what’s holding us back from a major recording contract. The world ain’t ready for a band with the name Sic F*cks.

Tish: Hilly suggested we change it to the Sic Folks.

FFanzeen: You’d have to spell it Sic F*lks.

Russell: We suggested Hilly should change his name of Sic Folks. Him or Jonathan.

Tish: Jonathan’s dead.

Russell: We should have a benefit for Jonathan. Remember the dog Jonathan who was always at CBGB? He died. I think CBGB should have a benefit concert every week.

Tish: I don’t think Jonathan had as many friends as Johnny Blitz.

Russell: It was close.

FFanzeen: Anyone who ever played pinball and stepped into…

Russell: Dog poo?

                                                                                           

FFanzeen: Yeah, they’ll remember. That was his favorite spot, wasn’t it?

Russell: He used to do it on the stage occasionally. Especially the old stage with the carpet on it.

FFanzeen: What are the ultimate goals of the group?

Tish: Money. Fame. Get laid. I just always wanted to be a rock star. Even more than having a store, which was one of my main goals. Now I have everything. Except for the money and the fame.

Russell: We haven’t made People magazine yet.

FFanzeen: What kind of fan is a Sic F*ck fan?

Russell: Somebody with nothing to do on Friday night. We’ve established a solid following.

Tish: We get a lot of tourists coming to the name.

Russell: “Hey these crazy New Yorkers. What will they think of next?”

Tish: A lot of guys come to gawk. Men in raincoats with newspapers on their laps.

Russell: Just a lot of people who are tired of all these New York bands taking themselves so seriously. We’re punk and rock and roll.

Tish: We’re also power pop-oriented. Also New Wave.

Russell: Even reggae.

Snooky: Calypso. We even play weddings and bar-mitzvahs.

Russell: I mean, everyone has a definition of punk. There’s a big difference between the Ramones and the Dead Boys, a totally different attitude, but basically both play the same thing; they play rock and roll.

FFanzeen: What do you do to keep busy? I realize some of these questions are dumb, but I wrote them about half an hour ago on the train over, or I took them from old fanzines.

 Russell: Yeah, I remember this one from the Teenage Jesus interview in FFanzeen.

Tish: We knit. Crochet.                                                               

Russell: We beat off a lot.

FFanzeen: That’s the same thing Lydia Lunch said (in the Teenage Jesus interview).

Russell: Then we don’t beat off a lot. Isn’t it great to be young and live in America!

Tish: I like hanging out once in a while. I love getting drunk. I like being on stage more than anything. But we rarely rehearse.

Russell: There’s nothing like being on stage.

Tish: What do you get when you cross a Jew and a Polack?

Snooky: Russell Wolinsky!

A Dream of Johnny Thunders: The Mo(u)rning of August 14, 2015

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Photo © Robert Barry Francos

This morning, before I woke up, I had a dream about going to see Johnny Thunders perform a solo show. It was actually going to be three shows in three locations, and although he died in 1991, the dream took place in the present. Any time there is a (f#) in the text, it means there is a brief footnote at the bottom with an aside comment in refection/explanation of the dream.

What I remember at the start was that I was already in the first club. When you walk in the door, there is a room with a bar to the left with some early-CBGB’s round-type tables along it, and the dressing rooms lined the right side of that room. Right before the dressing rooms, on the right side, was the open entrance to the second, slightly larger room. Couches lined the walls, with one couch overlapping the entrance door, where I sat. The small, raised stage was in the far corner to the right, diagonally across from me, and behind the stage were windows across the whole room, much like Max’s front wall.  There were a total of perhaps a couple of dozen people in both rooms of the joint.

As I was sitting there waiting, with a book in my hand, I looked over to my right and standing next to me was Johnny Thunders, looking at the stage. He looked the same as in the ‘80s, but perhaps three or four inches taller. I said to him (f1) that I was looking forward to seeing him play. He thanked me and seemed a bit nervous. I showed him the book I had in my hand that had a photo of him that I had taken (f2). He asked if he could see it, and I handed it to him.

Then I asked him if he was going to play “Pipeline,” as he hadn’t played it in a long time (f3), and he had sort of an “Oh, yeah,” remembering look, and said he needed to practice it. He left and disappeared into the other room to head towards the dressing rooms. I could hear him rustling in the dressing room behind the couch, and I concerned if I was ever going to see my book again, as he had taken it with him (f4).

I could then hear him practicing, but noted that it wasn’t “Pipeline,” but rather the main theme from Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake.” In the dream, it made me think of a couple of the Universal films that used it as their opening credits theme, such as The Mummy (1932) and Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932).

Meanwhile, I was hoping he was going on soon, because I knew my partner was coming to pick me up at some point. I ran out the door of the club, which was in a downtown kind of turn-of-the-century building, and I could see her drive up to the front in the car were now drive (f5) through the big glass doors. I ran back upstairs to grab my stuff and saw a co-worker of hers (f6) sitting on the couch where I had been, and he said she was coming up to see the music. Relieved, I looked over to where the tables were and saw three couples I knew of my own ex-co-workers (f7), so I knew my partner would have people to talk to while I watched the music and take pictures.

At that point, I realized I didn’t have my camera, only my cell phone. I was a bit sad that the photos would not be as good.

Suddenly someone came up to the mic stand and said they were running so late that Thunders would not have time to play, and we’d have to go to the next venue. I rushed out the door, and the next thing in the dream I remember was standing in the front of a club that was long and narrow like CB’s, with blank walls on either side like Max’s, but the stage in front was higher, like the Ritz. JT was up there, obviously nervous, and being calmed down by three other musicians who were big on the scene at the time of the Heartbreakers (f8). In the dream, I remember thinking that one of the trio reminded me of Neon Leon, but he was lighter, and had white streaks dyed into his hair. Another had on some full-body ogre costume (more GWAR than Shrek). I knew who two of them were, but not the ogre guy. JT was still taller.

After a while of us standing and waiting in the audience, and as the other guys are still talking to JT, the guy with the hair streaks announces that JT is not ready to go on yet, so we should head out to the third venue.

It’s daylight when we get outside, and there are some vans parked with drivers who are taking everyone to the third venue, which is out in the countryside. The person driving the van I’m in is a current co-worker (f9). She drives our group out into the desert, and is very perky and animated, as she is in real life. After we dip through a short tunnel at the border of the venue grounds, we stop at what appears to be a religious-based (f10) building in the middle of the desert, with nothing else around as far as the eye can see. Some monk-type people take us to the doorway, but not far in we are told that we cannot go any further if we are not a member of the organization. There is a wooden gate, much like those on a church dais where communion is given. The floors are black and white marble tile, and there are statues of what I interpret to be Saints on either side of the walls.

There are some people already in there (obviously members) milling around, nearly all in silhouette from the candles and stage lights, and I’m hoping that they won’t block my view of the stage. I can feel the crowds pushing from behind me, and thinking this feels uncomfortable on so many levels.

Then the alarm went off, waking me. So three Johnny Thunders shows in one night, and never got to hear him perform, other than practicing “Swan Lake” through the wall. At least I had the opportunity to say hello, unlike I did in my waking life. That’s something, I guess.

There is a lot of subtle and blatant imagery here, including some recurring themes in my dreams (f11), and I actually understand quite a bit of it. It’s rare I remember dreams more than five minutes after waking, but this one stayed with me for hours. RIP Johnny Thunders.

(f1) As many times as I saw the Heartbreakers, the Waldos (JT would often play with them even though he wasn’t part of the band anymore), including some solo performances, as well as published articles about him in FFanzeen and know friends who were close to him, I don’t ever remember ever actually speaking a word to him.

(f2) This book and photo does not really exist, though I have lots of pictures I’ve taken of him both solo and in the Heartbreakers/The Waldos.
(f3) The instrumental “Pipeline” was actually a rather raucous staple in the JT canon.
(f4) Even in the dream as I worried about it, my “real” inner voice said, “well, it is Johnny Thunders. He did have a reputation.
(f5) Which is how I know the dream takes place in the present, rather than in the past.
(f6) He doesn’t exist in real life.
(f7) Only one, David M–, is someone that actually was a co-worker, in the mid-‘80s at Travel Agent Magazine.
(f8) Again, none of them based on real people.
(f9) She has been volunteering at a local international venue, which I’m sure is why I dreamed her in this particular service position; ironically, in real life, she doesn’t drive.
(f10) While it feels Buddhist from the outside, the symbolism inside is Catholic, which does not surprise me considering JT’s Italian heritage.
(f11) For example, the theme of losing my camera in one way or another is something I dream about every few months.

CRAYOLA [1977]

Text by Gypsy / FFanzeen, 1977
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images © Robert Barry Francos

This interview was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #3, dated Winter-Spring 1977-78. It was written by Gypsy.

 

Lolly Holly, Janek Five, Hayden Brasseur

The first time I saw Crayola was opening for the Fast at some club whose name I can’t recall right now that came and went, on MacDougal Street; it was the same night I saw Sid Vicious drunkenly kick some homeless guy sleeping on the corner of MacDougal and 8th as I walked to the subway. But I digress… Crayola were a decent, rockin’ all-female band who definitely didn’t get the recognition they deserved. I approached them at CBGB’s the next time about an article, and the drummer, Hayden Brasseur, who would later join the Student Teachers, suggested the anonymous Gypsy write it (I know who she is, but I was sworn to secrecy). Other than legend, Crayola didn’t really go anywhere. I’m not sure they even released more than a single; I certainly can’t find any info on them on the Internet, which is saying something. But they are a part of that period’s underground history, and I am also a champion of those bands that weren’t one of the usual dozen or so you always hear about (Ramones, Talking Heads, Blondie, Heartbreakers, Dictators, Television, Patti Smith, Voidoids, etc.). So for posterity on the Internet, I present Crayola. – RBF, 2015

CBGB’s in New York City is normally a quiet, dignified, out-of-the-way little bistro frequented by middle-echelon bums after a hard day of windshield cleaning. The bands who occupy its stage are the descendants of such groups as the Kingston Trio, the Four Freshmen and the Ink Spots.

Its usual clientele, however, wouldn’t have recognized the place one recent Wednesday night when a quartet of fetching females called Crayola launched into a rattle, a whoosh of guitar power and a singer (with more energy than Con Edison) who asked, “What makes you think you’re soo cool, looking me up and down? Turn them eyes away before it’s too late.”

Even though they knew Janek Five meant what she was saying, the crowed couldn’t turn their eyes away. Janek exploded across the stage like Orville Redenbacher’s popcorn and people jumped in and out of their seats – and kept jumping – through songs like “Scream and Cry,” “At the Rumble,” “You’ll Be Destroyed,” and “Massage Parlor Junkie.” The set ended with Crayola pounding out a scathing version of “Love Potion Number 9,” complete with Janek bursting into an impromptu Hullabaloo-reminiscent Monkey. Then the stage lights went down and the house lights came up and Crayola was gone. But you knew they had arrived. Crayola: you’ve held them in your hands, now they’re melting in your heart.

I’ve already mentioned singer Janek Five, but she deserves as much mention as she can get. She’s like a stick of dynamite, with a voice bigger than she is. No matter what stage she lands on, you get the feeling it just isn’t big enough for her (Madison Square Garden take note). Blonde hair, shorn short, which is ideal because you don’t want to miss one single glance or stare or leer. She is the focal point of Crayola and rumor has it that J. Rotten was dismissed in hopes of getting Janek as a replacement.

Karen Krayon

But this probably isn’t true because the rumor was started by Lolly Holly, the carrot-topped guitarist of Crayola. Sexy, sultry and talented. A direct descendant of Buddy Holly, her ambition in life is to one day wear glasses and ride a defective airplane. She doesn’t move much on stage (possibly for fear of a fatal collision with dervish Janek) but, like the Statue of Liberty, she doesn’t have to move to be noticed. There’s intensity on her face: the intensity of a professional. It was once suggested that if she ever smiled, she’d break the hearts of teenage boys everywhere. She just doesn’t want the responsibility.

Occupying the other side of the stage is every-steady, affable, tall, thin and often green Karen Krayon. If there’s one person in all the hundreds of bands who hasn’t forgotten that rock and roll was supposed to be fun, it’s Karen. She bops and hops and, along with Lolly, occasionally steps up to her microphone to join Janek in harmonic lines like “Keep your hands off my man / Or the shit will hit the fan.” Offstage, fun-loving Karen can be found falling off barstools all over town.

Hayden Brasseur

Backing up Crayola with pow-pow-power is drummer Hayden Brasseur. She plays with such force that drumsticks have started to smoke in her hands and recently, she broke several of her sticks over a bartender’s head. Dark haired and green eyed, smiling, making faces and driving Crayola with innovative pulsating beats, Hayden is what parents everywhere hope their daughters won’t turn into.

Together, these four girls, all aged 20 (birth certificates supplied on request) from one of the most promising new bands to emerge from the new New York music scene. Only together six months, Crayola are already recognized for their uniqueness, their pervading sense of fun and their creative talent (they compose virtually all of their material). See them if you can. If you miss them, invest half a buck on their single in Max’s jukebox (#184). Either way, Crayola is coming after you. Have your coloring books ready.

Bush Tetras: Not Your Common Garden Variety [from 1980]

Text by David G / FFanzeen, August/September 1980
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos, FFanzeen blog, 2015

I never did get to see the Bush Tetras play live, and now they are about to reform for their 35th Anniversary, despite the passing of one of the trio.

Back in August 1978, I met the drummer, Dee Pop, while he was still living in Buffalo, and saw his band, the Secrets. I even temporarily lent him my spiked bracelet for a night or two. He eventually moved to New York and formed the Bush Tetras with Pat Place (guitar), Cynthia Sley (vox), and Laura Kennedy (bass). The band was hard to categorize, not being New Wave or No Wave, or even punk, but leaning more towards avant-garde dissonant funk. Heck they may have even been the leaders of that sound. For a while, you could not go to a club without hearing their single, “Too Many Creeps,” the recording of which is discussed below.

While reforming occasionally over the years, Laura Kenney succumbed to liver cancer in 2011, and was replaced by Cindy Rickmond, who had a long history on the scene, including a band I enjoyed, Cheap Perfume.  In May 2015, they will be playing a 35 anniversary show in New York. – RBF

The Bush Tetras. Four shrubs? Actually, an amalgam of Bush Babies and Neon Tetras. Tetra means four – that’s convenient – but what about Bush Babies? The name conjures images of the jungle: wild, dangerous – like a big cat; feline, graceful, sensual. Laura Kennedy prowls the stage, her taut, slinky bass figures meshing with Dee Pop’s rolling, tribal toms. Elemental rhythms. Pat Place’s slide guitar cuts through the mix like a bird in a rainforest, as Cynthia Sley, moving nary a muscle, chants a vision of urban life; for the Bush Tetras, the city becomes the jungle.

Song titles like “Tropics” and “Voodoo” only seem to increase the feeling; for anyone who’s ever lived in the city to long, “Too Many Creeps” says it all. Sparse and funky; easy to dance to. The music is oddly magnetic. The Bush Tetras don’t overpower with needless volume, or bore with tired riffs; they draw the audience in with sheer feeling and conviction.

The following interview took place in Pat and Laura’s apartment – carefully watched over by Pat’s amazing collection of miniature monster movie models – the day after the band recorded some tracks for their debut single. Cut sometime in July on the new 99 Records label, the 45 will feature “Too Many Creeps,” “Snakes Crawl,” and “Tropics.”

FFanzeen: How did the band get together?

Dee Pop: I was playing with a friend named Jimmy [Jimmy Joe Uliana – RBF, 2015] , way back when, and me and Jimmy went and jammed with Pat and Laura one day – this is last August – and we fucked around for a few months’ time, getting the group together, but that combination didn’t work. Then Jimmy left the group and we tried to get somebody else to fill in the spot that would be a singer, and we worked with Adele Bertei for a little while, and that didn’t work; we just wanted to do different things. We did one gig with her in November.
Laura Kennedy: At [the club] the Kitchen. It was supposed to be an art performance.
Dee: And we weren’t very arty. That didn’t work and Adele left, and then Cynthia joined and – here we are.

FFanzeen: Did you already have set songs by this time?

Laura: Well, the three of us played together for a real long time, and since it was obvious that the other people hadn’t worked out, we just figured we’d play a while together and wait for the moment when we’d find the person who could actually fit in with us. Cynthia and I have known each other for a long time.

FFanzeen: You’re both from Cleveland?

Laura: We went to art school together and she never sung before, but we just said, “Hey, come on and try it out.” Anyway, it worked really well.
Cynthia Sley: We played out after three weeks.
Laura: Yeah, we spend like two weeks getting together about seven songs.
Dee: Six
Laura: Six songs was it? And then we played [the club] TR3; we opened for the Raybeats.

FFanzeen: About that time, some of the local music press were making a big thing out of the fact that the ex-Contortions were all back on the scene. Pat, what were you doing in the time period after the dissolution of the Contortions and before the Tetras, and how did that press affect this band?

Pat Place: Well, that’s when Dee and Laura and Jimmy and I were just jamming. At that time I felt very open to just experimenting and playing music with different people, and also try to develop my guitar playing. It was really kind of a relief when the Contortions broke up, because that situation was more or less a dictatorship, so in a way, I felt set free. The Bush Tetras are very democratic. We all feel free to throw out ideas and work on them. To find people that you can work with in that way, to me, is the most satisfying way to work.
Laura: That’s how we met Dee and Jimmy; Pat and I did a performance at TR3 with Judy Nylon and another friend – a multi-media thing – and Jimmy saw that and wanted to get together, so we did.

FFanzeen: The lyrics to a song like “Creeps” seem to convey a kind of intolerance towards certain people.

Cynthia: Well, “Creeps” is Pat’s.
Pat: That’s from living in New York too long.
Laura: “Snakes Crawl” was written at the Bleecker Street [Cinema].
Pat: No, it was “Too Many Creeps.”
Cynthia: It’s hard walking around in the street. “Snakes Crawl” and “Creeps” are going to be on the record.
Laura: Yeah, they’re going to come out on a single on this new independent label that Ed Bahlman at [the store] 99 Records on McDougal [Street] is doing. We just recorded it.
Pat: I feel kind of bad about “Too Many Creeps.” I hope people don’t misinterpret that. We rehearse on the lower East Side, where all those, like, junkies (and) creeps hang out and harass us all the time. You get that all the time in the street. I was working at the Bleecker Street and so many creeps would come in there and just bug you, and it was driving me crazy. But I don’t want to make it sound like we’re talking to the audience or anything.

FFanzeen: When do you expect the single to come out?

Laura: We hope it will come out the end of July. I guess you never really know how long it takes these companies to press ‘em or release ‘em.
Dee: We still have the mixing to do and some more overdubs and stuff.

FFanzeen: Do you consider ourselves a dance-oriented band?

Cynthia: Oh, I think so.

FFanzeen: It seems a lot of the new bands are dance-oriented as almost a backlash; rock’n’roll dance music.

Laura: Yeah, it seems like a lot of people are jumping on certain bandwagons, which is kind of unfortunate; but I’ve always liked to dance.
Cynthia: In Cleveland, Laura and I just danced our butts off.
Laura: There was one club in Cleveland where you could hear New Wave music on Thursday nights, and we’d always have Pere Ubu and Devo on a double bill.
Cynthia: The Rubber City Rebels.
Laura: Yeah, so we’d just hang out down there: if you can dance to Pere Ubu, you can dance to just about anything.

FFanzeen: What made you come to New York?

Cynthia: If you ever lived in Cleveland, you’d know why you’d wanna leave.

FFanzeen: You recently opened for Gang of Four at Hurrah. Is it harder to open for a fairly established English band then to gig with another New York band?

Laura: It seems like it’s a hard situation to open for a band that has an established audience, but most of the comments that we’ve had from people, the ones that stick out in my mind, are from people who’ve gone out of their way to come up to us after our sets and say, “You know, I really like your band. I really relate to you.”
Pat: Yeah, that’s a real surprise to me. I’m glad.
Laura: But it seems it’s a real crossover. Even at the 80s Club [with Lydia Lunch’s 8-Eyed Spy] which was a real strange audience for us, and out in Hoboken where we had to really work hard to get across to the audience, because they’re very removed from New Wave music it seems. They don’t know if they’re supposed to like you or not, so they kind of examine you for a while first. It seems like it hasn’t been too hard for us to get across to people in that way. They instantly sort of like us, or I guess if they didn’t like us, they’d leave.
Pat: Or they’d want their money back, saying it’s disco. That happened at [the club] Maxwell’s.

FFanzeen: I think there are similarities because of the beat and the fragmented guitar, but they’re very English, and you’re kind of…Dee: They must listen to the same records as us.

FFanzeen: Like what?

Cynthia: ZZ Top.
Dee: We have a lot of different influences.
Pat: Like Dee likes reggae and I hate reggae, so we sort of compromise.
Laura: Well, reggae is great drum music, and the dub stuff is real cool, too.
Dee: We take all of our influences, and instead of saying, “Okay, now let’s write a reggae song,” when we write a song, I might come in and I’ll be inspired by a particular rhythm I hear on a record or something. Then everyone will add their own different influences to the songs, so it comes out like a conglomeration of a lot of things, instead of just one token label, like “This is the rock song,” and “This is their reggae song,” and “This is their punk song,” or whatever.
Laura: Yeah, instead of trying to come out like one of those punk/funk groups or anything, we listen to a lot of rock’n’roll – it’s pretty good dance music – but I don’t think we sound like a ‘60s rock’n’roll band, either. We don’t sound anything like PiL, but I think we’re all influenced by them because their way of working is real new, and it’s real modern. I think, like Dee said, what we try to do is take all the things that we hear and feel and think about, and when we get together, we just try to pick up on whatever the other person is doing, like a rhythm – it’s all real personal.
Dee: It’s all really democratic. If I have a drum beat that sounds kind of reggae-ish, I won’t go to Laura and say she’s gotta play like Robbie Shakespeare and boost the bass, or something – whatever she does, if it fits and we all like it, that’s the way it works.

FFanzeen: I can hear that diversity in a lot of your stuff.

Laura: Someone once said that we sound more like an English band than an American band, but I’m not really sure what an American band is supposed to sound like.
Dee: Well, it doesn’t really matter, because the English bands steal everything from the Americans anyway.
Cynthia: I think that the diversity is good, ‘cause I like all the different kinds of audiences. I’d rather see a different audience every time rather than just the same audience. It’s really fun.
Laura: There’s something challenging about winning over people that don’t know where you’re coming from or have never heard of you, or they’re there to see something else and they’re sorta surprised.
Pat: Yes, but we’re not Blondie or Tom Petty or, you know, all that slick sounding, bland stuff. I think a lot of people prefer that because it’s familiar – rehashed from the past. It’s easy for them to swallow and it’s what radio pushes.

FFanzeen: Do you feel that the record industry is ignoring a lot of the music that’s coming out of New York, in favor of the “blander” stuff that’s coming out of California and Middle America? There’s a lot of publicity surrounding New York bands, but no recording contracts.

Laura: Well, that’s not really true.
Pat: It’s pretty true because of the state of radio right now. I think it’s really horrible, and it’s all because of big business and the people running it. They don’t want to let the stuff in. They’re afraid to take a chance on anything. I mean, in the ‘60s, you could turn on the radio and hear Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, you know, the new music that was saying something and making changes, but the Middle Class got scared and it decided, it seems, to never let that happen again. I think things are kind of scary right now – reactionary. Most kids in mid-America are not very hip; they’re content to buy new cars and jeans. Radio or the record companies could help, but hey obviously don’t want to. The whole PIX thing proves it [re: the closing down of radio station WPIX, the only station that played punk at the time – RBF, 2015]. I think that was a big setback. The clubs are the only hope for new music right now.
Cynthia: It’s really at a low point right now.
Laura: Well, there are a few bands. Polyrock’s with RCA. The B-52’s didn’t get signed till they came to New York. You can almost consider them a New York band – they were discovered here. They couldn’t have been discovered out in [Athens] Georgia… Talking Heads – but that’s pretty old. There’s a lot of music coming out of New York that is discovered.
Cynthia: On the scale of things, I think they’re in the minority.
Dee: Did you read the article in the Soho Weekly News this week, about independent labels in England and big business in America? They were just saying that there’s more chance in England of being spotted for your own music, rather than being some sort of safe act that you can push on people that don’t know anything at all.
Laura: The whole situation in England is different ‘cause it’s a small country; there’s lot of media that’s ready to pick up on everything. They have weekly music papers. It’s probably as easy to tour their whole country as it is to get gigs here, around the city. And the corporations there are meant to lose money – they have tons of money to get rid of, or they’ll lose it to taxes. So, they’re probably more willing to take chances on unconventional groups.

FFanzeen: There are indepen-dents popping up around the city, like 99 Records. And there are more on the way.

Laura: That’s picking up. There’s still the problem of radio; there’s basically no station, which is pretty outrageous for a city this size.
Dee: Now there’s no station that plays anything; not unless they’re playing the safe stuff. It’s hard even to hear the Clash in New York City on the radio.
Pat: That’s why I’m really glad that Public Image did so well over here. They reached a lot of people. What they’re doing is really different. It’s really great.

FFanzeen: I find that live, the Tetras seem to draw the audience in with the music alone. You don’t seem to be taking the usual, “You have to like us” type stance, you just play.

Pat: Well, it’s hard sometimes doing these gigs. You can’t think about the audience too much. I really like playing with this band, so I just figure, “Alright, so we’re gonna go up there and play, and they either like us or they don’t.” When you go onstage with the attitude, “Well, we’ve gotta win this audience over,” I think it’s pretty hard. Its nerve wracking. So you just have to think, “Well, I don’t care, we’re just playing our music.”
Cynthia: It’s a real gas when people dance.
Laura: It’s great when they respond that way. That’s what I mean about a place like TR3, where it’s so intimate and there’s this immediate response because the audience is right there. And the thing about the way we are on stage is just that we all like playing together so much, and the songs that we do come together out of these things. We put them together like, “Okay this is our presentation of our music,” but we do other things, like some of the songs we do in rehearsal go on 20 minutes, but I don’t think people want to hear that in a club.
Dee: All of our sets are really different. It all depends on the audience.

Fanzeen: When I saw you, I felt that your music prodded the audience without hitting them over the head.

Laura: Well, we’re growing. We’re not really afraid to grow in public.
Cynthia: We’re trying to seduce.
Pat: We wanna play music that puts people in a trace.
Laura: Yeah, music is seductive, and you don’t always have to hit somebody over the head. You don’t have to hit ‘em really hard, anyway.
Cynthia: You just hit ‘em where it counts.

FFanzeen: You really get worked into a nice groove.

Pat: That’s the most important thing: finding that groove.
Laura: It has a lot to do with how you’re feeling that night. Some of our sets have been really fast-paced and over in 20 minutes; and then the same songs could take up 40 minutes if we’re feeling different about it that night.

FFanzeen: Do you have any immediate plans to play out of New York?

Laura: We’ll probably play Philly soon, and Buffalo and Toronto.
Dee: There’s talk of going to Italy in July with the Lounge Lizards.

FFanzeen: Do you have other recordings lined up after the single?

Cynthia: We could make an album if somebody wants to pay for it.
Dee: If this first 45 does well, I could see quickly doing another record for 99. So far, it’s been really great working with Ed. We had an offer to do a single for Fetish Records [an English-based label], but Ed’s a great fan and very open; and he’s right down the block, which makes it easy to check on what’s going on.

FFanzeen: Are you the only act on 99 so far?

Laura: No, they’ve got Glenn Branca.

FFanzeen: Do you feel that there’s a community of musicians in New York, or is every band out for themselves?

Laura: Well, Don Christensen, the Raybeat’s drummer, is helping us produce our single.
Pat: 8-Eyed Spy, the Raybeats, and us are all pretty good friends, and it’s nice. It’s fun to do double bills with them, but you can’t do that too often. It’s just too incestuous or something. Basically, it’s not that everyone is just out for themselves, it’s just that everyone’s busy with their own thing.

FFanzeen: Pat, do you use any special tuning when you play slide?

Pat: No, I just use regular tunings.

FFanzeen: When you started, did you decide to play slide, or did you pick it up later?

Pat: Yeah, well, if you haven’t played guitar before, it’s the easiest way to get by [laughs] – you know, make a lot of noise.
Laura: Tell him how long you played before you did your first gig.
Pat: [Laughs] I’d been playing for a coupla days. But I liked Teenage Jesus; I like the way Lydia [Lunch] used to play slide guitar. I was influenced by her, actually; and Mars, I used to like that band Mars. And I started to learn to play regular now.
Laura: ZZ Top style.
Dee: She’s the only guitarist, so she has to take up more.

FFanzeen: Do you ever consider getting another instrument, to free Pat up for playing more slide?

Laura: We thought about it.
Pat: We tried playing with some other people; it’s just really hard right now ‘cause we work real well together and we have to write songs, and trying to add another person right now is pretty difficult because things are going so fast.
Laura: Right now we have about four days between gigs or recording or something, and if we want to write any new songs, which we’re trying to do at least a couple of times a month, it takes a lot of time. We rehearse a lot, and to bring in a new person at this point, would be…
Dee: Besides that, we would have to change our name, because, among other things, Tetra means four.