Club Flyers and Invites from 1970s and 1980s: Part 4

Text (c) Robert Barry Francos, 2011
Images are owned by the artists
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As stated in an earlier blog, throughout the years I have collected flyers, especially from the 1970s and '80s. Many were sent to me directly by the bands while I was publishing FFanzeen. Below are some scans I made from my personal collection, in no particular order. I did see many of them, but not all, and I will comment on them from time to time. Note that I do not financially profit off of publishing them, but only do so to honor the work that was involved, and for archival purposes.

Desperate Teenage Lovedolls was possibly one of the first hardcore fiction films to be released. Actually, its first incarnation was as the VHS-only Desperate Teenage Runaways, which they had to legally change the name due to the growing popularity of the Runaways (yes, I own a copy). The film was pretty bad, and starred or had cameos by many local So-Cali scenesters (similarly, as did the British Jubilee). When the film came out in larger format, it was shown on the big screen for the first time on the East Coast at Danceteria. The opening bands, Adrenalin O.D. (aka AOD) and White Flag were powerhouse hardcore acts. It was a fun night, for sure.

Not only did Donny Fury do sound at CBGBs and have an inexpensive basement practice studio for local bands not far from the club, but he also fronted the Donny Fury Band. We did an article about him/them in FFanzeen, but I never actually saw the band perform. This show was not on his home turf, but deep in Brooklyn, around Caransie (definitely not the so-called cool, hipster part of the Borough of Kings where the clubs are now), at the famed Zappaz. I frequented the club a few times, occasionally clashing with the Tony Manero wannabes on the corner. Anyway, the photo collage on the flyer is excellent.


Though invited to this mainstream rock Press Conference held at the Hard Rock Café, I didn’t go. WNEW was the classic rock station, and I just wasn’t interested in whomever they would invite. I had been to a similar one for the USO in 1980 with Stephen Stills, and members of Kansas, America, and Cheap Trick, among others. With the exception of the CT… yawn. Now if the Ramones would have been there, that would have been another story.

Though I don’t actually know much about Johnny Jewel, I’m fond of the Television song they were named after. Feel free to let me know if you were at this Ritz gig, and if they found their little wing head.

The Vipers, led by Jon Weiss, were a fun garage band during those heady revival days of the early ‘80s. When I interviewed them for FFanzeen at their loft in Alphabet City, their manager (RIP) had to leave early to go catch Bruce Springsteen at the Garden, which I found weird at the time, for some reason. While “Cheated and Lied” was not their biggest hit, relatively speaking, I still hear it and smile for the extraordinary cut it is. I still have their demo cassette, with the songs in a different order from their LP. While I know someone who worked at the Cat Club, I can’t remember ever being there. But I did see the Vipers numerous times at various venues (mostly Irving Plaza, though).

The Cucumbers’ 1988 Holiday on Ice Tour was, I believe, their first big East Coast outing. Based in Hoboken, NJ, I saw the quirky band play a couple of times around New York, and participated in an interview on cable access show Videowave. They were a cut-up for my (still) camera between takes.

The Undead seem to be more understandably popular now that they’re history than when they played the Mudd Club. Bobby Steele’s girlfriend at the time, Laurie, posed for the cover of FFanzeen wearing nothing but one of our tee-shirts while leaning on a hydrant. That is one of my biggest memory of the band. They did set the local – and then national – scene on fire with their scorching horror hardcore.

The Beach Blanket Blowout at the Palladium seems like a show that may have been inspired by some of the Ritz mash-ups that I loved, such as their Girls Night Out series. Here the performers include Joy Askew and Get Wet’s vox Sherri Beachfront. Then there’s the infamous Neon Leon. I didn’t go to this because, well, it was the Palladium, one the uncoolest venues for us club rats in the city. I believe they were trying to lure us in with some star acts of the downtown fashionistas.

While the Mudd Club had the reputation for occasional debauchery and some amazing acts, such as this night with the Fuzztones and the Chesterfield Kings, I rarely went there because their door policy was ridiculously prohibitive. For example, they would almost never let in two males who were together (but any females were always accepted, as look as they looked “good”). Why travel all the way to the club to find out you probably wouldn’t get in, even though one of my writers worked there. Good show + bad door policy / policing = fuck ‘em.

Speaking of debauchery, probably no club during the ‘80s had the repute of one that had been a grand church, the Limelight. While their shows were interesting, between sets they were basically another Palladium, filling the air with beats and scratching (I remember hearing a 20-minute version of Lauper’s “Girls Just Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-n-n-n-n-n-na have f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-un fun fun fun fun”). It was, however, an excellent venue for Peter Zaremba’s Love Delegation for their signing to Celluloid Records. Zaremba was and is an R&B man who mixed it with punk and garage maniacality (yes, I know there’s no such word… deal with it). As a Fleshtones’ side project, he got to play a more undiluted version of what he loves. (RIP Wendy Wild.)

The Runaways at CBGB's and Palladium, 1976-78

FFotos (c) Robert Barry Francos

I was interested in seeing the “Queens of Noise” (as opposed to the noise of Queens) when they played in New York City for the first time, in 1976. The five barely-post-adolescent The Runaways were scheduled to play CBGB. Their self-titled album was rocking, but was still a more pop version of what Suzi Quatro was doing – which was rock on out like the boys.

Before compromising her credibility by appearing as Leather, Pinky Tuscadero’s twice-thigh-slapping-and-pointing sister on Happy Days, Suzi was a guiding force and prime inspiration in woman-led rock. She was cute and she could pound her ax, growl, and “rock hard” with the best. When I saw her open for Alice Cooper at Madison Square Garden, I went out and bought a few of her LPs.

[Joan Jett, The Runaways, CBGB's, 1978]
The Runaways, as envisioned and “created” by mentor Kim Fowley, were a group of valley girls (well, at the time, any teenage female from LA was a valley girl to any self-respecting New Yorker) who could fill the fantasies of teenage heavy music boys (and some horny old coots). The music press couldn’t get enough of the band in the late 1970s, covering them in several magazines, including People, Rock Scene, Trouser Press, Crawdaddy, and Who Put the Bomp (where I first read about them).

The album started off with the instant classic tease, “Cherry Bomb” (“Hello daddy, hello mom/I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”: see video below), which was written by co-member and guitarist Joan Jett (aged 16 – the ages were duly and helpfully noted on the album cover), ground out by fellow guitarist Lita Ford (oldest at 17), and accompanied by drummer Sandy West (16) and bassist Jackie Fox (16). Sung with a smugness that befit the lyrics was Cherie Currie (16), who had a penchant for wearing a widow corset and bustier on-stage, and swinging the microphone through her legs. While no other song on the album could hold up to “Cherry Bomb,” the music piqued our interest. Bernie Kugel and I knew that they would be interesting to see live, as a media event in its own right. We had wondered how much of the sound was studio, and how much of it was the Runaways. With Kim Fowley backing them, it seemed a valid question, him being known for media manipulation, and I don’t mean that in a necessarily negative way; he’s a showman much like Malcolm McLauren, or more likely akin to how David F. Friedman was to films.

[Lita Ford, The Runaways, CBGB's, 1978]
When we arrived at CBGB’s, early as usual, there was a line just starting. We were near the front, fortunately. Seems the record execs had set this show up as an industry showcase, so the place was packed with lots of suits (if you can imagine them in 1976 CBGB) who were more interested in either the free drinks, the shmooz-factor, or the possibility of seeing some cute young rock chicks. As always, we were there for the both the music and the joy of being at this historic concert.

When the management finally got around to acknowledging and letting in the relatively long line of fans, there was only room enough left for about a dozen or so of us. Despite being near the front, we were at a table way towards the back of the club, against the brick wall opposite the bar. Luckily, with the tiny stage being on the same side, we had some possibility of a view. This was more than a year before I would have my camera, so I have no photos of the event. We both stood on our chairs and leaned against the wall. The waitresses were too busy with the execs to have time to abuse us. The concert was everything we had hoped it would be – a good old rock’n’roll show.

A year or so later, the Runaways were big hits in Japan and their second album, Queens of Noise, had been released. This collection was quite a bit more “glossy” on the production end than the first, again with a few memorable songs, like “Road to Ruin,” and the title cut. The band played at the Palladium (nee the Academy of Music), a much larger venue, opening for the Ramones on January 7, 1978.

[The Runaways, Palladium, 1978]
Our seats were pretty far back, and the gig was great for a theater show, One of things I remember the most about this concert was an incident involving the intermission. As the lights went down after the Runaways finished their set and we waited for the Ramones, suddenly the intermission music started, which was the opening chords of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. The audience became suddenly very tensely quiet, waiting… When it became clear it was really Beethoven’s Fifth, and not the dreadful Walter Murphy travesty, "A Fifth of Beethoven," the audience gave a huge sigh of relief and the conversations started once again. We were punks, but we were not ignorant masochists.

The third and last time I saw the Runaways play New York, they were again at CBGB’s. Cherie Currie had already left the band (as did bassist Jackie Fox, who was replaced with Vicki Blue) and Joan Jett rose up the ranks as the lead, giving Lita Ford more of a chance to show off her metal-influenced guitarwork. They were quite competent, which did not surprise me, since Joan had been handling some of the songs even while Cherie was in the band. This time, near the new stage on the right side of the club, Alan Abramowitz and I sat by the speaker on the right.

Opening for the Runaways was a Toronto-based band, the B-Girls. I had their single, “Fun at the Beach,” b/w “B-Girls” (on the Bomp! label) and enjoyed it, so it made sense to go to the show. The B-Girls had attitude, but they were a good surf/pop/rock’n’roll style band.

The Runaways, too young and immature at the time to grow more formidable as a whole, drifted apart and some became famous names with their own careers. Cherie Currie released a couple of decent but not overly strong albums with her twin sister, Marie (though their song, “Since You’ve Been Gone” is a standard listen for me), came clean about her drug use on some daytime talk show, probably in 1989 when she released her autobiography for the first time.

[Cherie Currie, Chiller Theater, 1999]
The last time I saw her in person was in May of 1999 at the Chiller Theatre Horror and Model Convention in Secaucus, New Jersey, where she was, I’m guessing, still trying to break into B-movies (as she’d already appeared in Parasite – which was also one of Demi Moore’s early flicks – and Foxes, co-starring Scott Baio and Jodie Foster; her character dies in both...anyone looking for an omen?). She looked buffed and was signing autographs (for money) at a table next to Neal Smith and Michael Bruce from the Alice Cooper Band. She smiled pleasantly for my request for taking a picture of her, and when I mentioned that I had seen her play CBGB’s about 23 years earlier (at that time), she became very cold and distant, and gave me a “who gives a fuck, fan-boy?” look. I said thank you for the snap, and beat a hasty retreat. Brrrrr..