PIGSHIT: Diary of a Loved One, 1982: Life in a Rock’n’Roll Band [1983]

Text by Gary Pig Gold / FFanzeen, 1983 / 2021
Images from the Internet

PIGSHIT: Diary of a Loved One, 1982: Life in a Rock’n’Roll Band

This article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #10, dated 1983. It was written by columnist Gary Pig Gold.

Gary is one of my favorite rock historian writers. I became familiar with him from his originally Mississauga, Ontario-based fanzine, The Pig Paper. His column and blog are still active after all these years. I’ve seen him play a few times, including with the Dave Rave Conspiracy and in the alt country Ghost Rockets, but unfortunately, never with the Loved Ones, who achieved cult status. Gary has lived in a few places both in the States and in Canada, and it’s important to know that he is a huge Beach Boys aficionado. – RBF, 2021

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Pig_Gold
www.rocksbackpages.com/Library/Writer/gary-pig-gold 
 

Jan. 1: No New Year’s Eve party for The Loved Ones (to play at, either!), but was 1981 really worth ushering out, anyway?

Jan. 4: “Bubbles” (possibly not her real name), a gurl with a fake Australian accent I met at the Plimsouls’ Xmas party, calls to say she’d happily pose n-u-d-e for the Pig Paper. Time for my fanzine to go color/glossy/fold-out?

Jan. 16: I guess not. Pig Paper 14 covertly photocopied overnight in the Redondo Beach offices of American Container Corp., and if the Xeroxer hadn’t kept jamming up, I could’ve had this latest ish On the Streets of L.A. tomorrow morning!

Dennis Wilson and Gary Pig Gold

Jan. 25: Remember Gary Usher (“In My Room,” “Sacramento,” “How to Stuff a Wild Bikini” (et. al)? He was actually interested in producing The Loved Ones – till he discovered our publishing wasn’t up for grabs. “I’m not hungry anymore, y’know,” Gary [d. 1990] informs me today. Huh?

Feb. 7: Ronnie Furness, an old ex-Loved One, called all the way from Tahsis, British Columbia (big lumber town where he’s now employed) to confirm the rumors he’s heard that I’m not a coke addict. No, I’m not, even though I now live in Southern California. (I ate a slew of hash brownies once though, whilst watching Ride the Wild Surf on Channel 11…).

Feb. 11: My pal, Johnny Wonderful, of local Stray Cat copy-cat combo the Debonairs, calls to say yes – he can get an interview with the Blasters for Pig Paper 15.

Feb. 22: Murray the K dies and the Blasters sign to Warner Bros. Interview still on, however, sez Johnny.

Feb. 26: Tonight, Pig Productions was to present the Crowd’s gala Farewell Show at the Belmont Shores Lion Club, but a rival promoter (disguised as a not-so-mild-mannered reporter from the Cal State Long Beach newspaper) kindly informed the Powers That Be that the Crowd were, quote, “The West Coast’s most dreaded punk rock band.” Consequently, Pig Productions (along with 450 impatient ticket holders, not to mention the Crowd) arrive at the Lions club to find a sign reading Show Cancelled: Go Home! nailed across the doorway. Pig Productions immediately retires from the concert promotion business and changes its PO Box and phone numbers.

Issue 14

Mar. 3: After months of postal undercover work, I succeed in tracking down notorious pal o’ John’n’Yoko, David The Pope Smokes Dope Peel [d. 2017], yet he refuses to author a regular Pig Paper column.

Mar. 12: Desperate for a way to take their act on the road and get it together, The Loved Ones covertly set up their equipment in an empty second-storey classroom at nearby Cal State Long Beach, draw a crowd of three, open up all the windows, play a 14-minute set, and spend the remainder of the night in the campus jail. Blasters interview still on though, sez Johnny W.

Apr. 30: The Blasters’ manager, Celia, sends me a letter which reads, in part, “As for the Pig Paper 15 interview, frankly, I doubt it. The timing is not right. Like most Americans, the Blasters like to have some time just of relax.” Interview still on, however, insists Johnny.

May 5: I read somewhere that Gary Lewis and the Playboys recently reformed (who hasn’t?) and are recording a comeback LP (who isn’t?) so, ever the hit hunter, I visit their publisher with a cassette-full of my most rocked-up originals, versions of Goffin [d. 2014] and King (or at least Kooper and Russell) dancing in my head. “These originals aren’t rocked up enough,” the publisher quickly informs me as I’m shown the door, bus fare already in hand.

May 6: Undaunted, I begin writing and recording the latest Loved Ones demo-tape.

May 13: A gigantic Blasters interview is just published in the latest issue of L.A. Weekly magazine.

May 24: Lester Bangs dies and the Blasters leave for a European tour of indefinite length. Interview may not now occur, confesses Johnny not-so-Wonderful-anymore.

Jun. 19: Loved Ones demo-tape hand delivered to local “New Wave” station KNAC-FM. Airplay refused: “These songs aren’t rocked-up enough,” the program director quickly informs me as I’m shown the door, etc.

Jun. 20: Undaunted, I begin work remixing the Loved Ones’ demos. This time removing the Dolby noise reduction unit and boosting all levels well into the red.

Jul. 14: New and improved Loved Ones demo-tape hand-delivered to legendary Surf City face-about-town Rodney Bingenheimer, who quickly refuses to give it airplay on hiss legendary Pasadena radio show because, “This tape’s rocked-up too much.” Thoroughly daunted, I start becoming a coke addict.

Jul. 15: I find myself near Hollywood and Vine, attending two tapings of the Merv Griffin Show. I also find myself being forcibly ejected from the theater shortly thereafterwards, after heckling Moon Zappa as she lip-syncs to “Valley Girl.” This is particularly embarrassing as tonight’s guest host is my long-time idol, Dick Clark [d. 2012].

Jul. 20: My roommate moves out on me.

Jul. 21: My rent is raised.

Jul. 23: The Loved Ones play Our First Party Gig! and steal an amp from our opening act by way of payment.

Aug. 6: Veteran Pig Paper fan Greg Shaw [d. 2004] writes to say he luvs the Loved Ones’ demo-tape, even though, quote, “The songs sound too much like Gary Lewis and the Playboys.”

Aug. 8: Pig Picks to Click, 1982, No. 1: Saw a great band playing in the middle of the Seventh Street Recreational Park this afternoon – The Falling Idols. Remember: You Read It First in FFanzeen.

Aug. 14: The Loved Ones play Our Second Party Gig!, ‘way the way 100 miles south in San Diego. Between sets, I drive farther south to Tijuana, Mexico for dinner, and bring home a mucho case of food poisoning.

Aug. 24: The Loved Ones play Our First Club Gig!, opening for the Cat Burglars (the who?) at the Concert Factory (the what?) and earn Our First Paycheck! ($14).

Sep. 2: The Loved Ones play Our Second Club Gig! at the Concert Factory, opening for the Lucky Strikes (the who?) and The Jets (ditto) and earn Our Second Paycheck! ($14 in change).

Sep. 10: I begin work for The New Music Review in order to supplement my paychecks, and discover amongst my first pile of vinyl to review, Pig Picks to Click, 1982, No. 2: Six and Six and Later On, by the ultra-ESP Records-sounding Jandek (available from Corwood Industries, PO Box 15375, Houston, Texas 77020). Buy These Albums! [Ed. Note: That address is still viable, or you can contact Corwood online HERE – RBF, 2021.) 

Sept. 17: The Loved Ones play Our Third – and Biggest – Gig! to date: opening for the Suburban Lawns at the prestigious Radio City club. We are not paid but do not notice.

Sep. 30: A pretty gigantic Blasters interview is just published in the latest issue of Flipside magazine. I wonder whatever became of Johnny Wonderful?

Oct 7: The Concert Factory requests further Loved Ones bookings. Fearful of being thrust into too high of a tax bracket, I decline.

Oct. 21: I receive a letter from Robert Barry FFrancos, which reads, in part, “As far as your column goes, fer sher, send it along anytime. If you want, write something about “Life in a Rock’n’Roll Band” or some (Pig)Shit like that.”

Pigshit: DWIGHT TWILLEY [1985]

By Gary Pig Gold / FFanzeen, 1985

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2017

Images from the Internet

This article/interview was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #5, dated 1985, by music Renaissance man, Gary Pig Gold.

If you grew up in the early punk movement anywhere around the Toronto / Mississauga / Hamilton (Ontario) hub, you knew who Gary Pig Gold was / is, and his fanzine, The Pig Paper. Gary is not only a writer, but also produces records and was/is a musician in such bands as The Loved Ones, Ghost Rockets, Dave Rave Conspiracy and most recently The Next Big Thing alongside his old pal from The Cheepskates, Shane Faubert. I have the pleasure to call him my friend, even though we don’t get the chance to hang out much lately, being 2000 miles apart.


Through the later years of FFanzeen, Gary had his own column called "Pigshit," which also ran in many other zines worldwide and still appears monthly online. I've long-stated that Gary is one of the better writers of rock history, especially about his own favorites such as the Beach boys, the Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and Elvis. His work at this moment appears alongside an all-star cast of musicians and movers in Harvey Kubernik's massive 1967: A Complete Rock Music History of the Summer of Love book from Sterling Publishing. Definitely check out more of his writing at https://www.rocksbackpages.com/Library/Writer/gary-pig-gold . - Robert Barry Francos, 2017.

As much as we’d love to forever blot it from our ears, there was music being produced, released and even broadcast during the post-Creedence, pre-Ramones wasteland known today as the mid-1970s. Like many other now forms of pure pop, I filled those dreaded years backtracking thru pop’s past via the neighbourhood Kmart cut-out bins, and today sport an entire bedroom covered in milk crates full of albums ($1.90 or less!) with holes drilled thru the covers to show for my efforts… (Well, it was either that or spend circa ’71-’75 watching “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert” and lining up for Who tickets…)

But suddenly one day, a song appeared which effectively jolted me out of my Delete Zone exile and hinted that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still intelligent life left in the music bizness: a hook-studded gem, which effortlessly rode up the charts atop a bedtrack cocky enough to spare it from a fate worse than Manilow (sorry ABBA). The song in question? “I’m On Fire,” by someone – or something- called The Dwight Twilley Band. Sure, I was a fan of the Hollies-Revisited strains of (The) Raspberries, not to mention the bozo-rock of the N.Y. Dolls, but Twilley’s ditty made an impression for reasons other than nostalgia or camp: it was the first evidence in godknowshowlong of that elusive creature known as The Perfect Hit Single. Imagine my jubilation when, after rushing to my local disc shop for the first time since the Raiders broke up, I discovered an entire album of Twilley in the racks – his classic debut LP Sincerely. Listening to this stunner today is akin to takin’ a crash-course in trends-to-come: the cheesy electropop of “Could Be Love,” the Edmunds-as-Spector lush of “You Were So Warm,” the mop-topped Rutle-rock of “Three Persons.” Even the suede-o crockabilly of “TV.” Could it be at all possible that the likes of Martin Rushent [d. 2011 – RBF], Nick Lowe, Dougie Fieger [of The Knack, d. 2010 - RBF] and Brian Setzer never heard and duly absorbed this record prior to launching their own assaults upon the Top 40? I sincerely doubt it.

Several years and one New Wave later (Dec. ’79 to be exact), I found myself in Southern California for my first of several hunts for the ghost of Brian Wilson. It was then and there that I chanced upon a surprise Twilley gig at the scenic Golden Bear club in scenic Huntington Beach (where, speaking of the ‘60s, Peter Tork was once employed as a dishwasher). By this point, Dwight had already lost one record company (Shelter, due to bankruptcy), one record contract (with Arista, due to the lackluster sales of his smash second album, Twilley Don’t Mind), and even one-half of his band (when his long-time cohort, Phil Seymour, buggered off for a short-lived career as Orange County’s answer to Shaun Cassidy). Not surprisingly, the show that night was a slick, bitter affair – it seemed Twilley spent most of his set screaming at the soundman for “more fuckin’ Elvis Sun Sessions reverb on my fuckin’ mike.” Afterwards, I crawled back to my motel room mightily disillusioned as Dwight spent the next several years slowly burying himself beneath the scrap heap of Next-Big-Things-From-L.A. alongside the likes of The Loved Ones (thanks for the plug, Robert Barry! – GPG 1985), 20/20 and The Plimsouls (whilst nurturing a quite unhealthy SCUBA diver fetish).

I was probably as shocked as Mr. Twilley himself when last summer, he released a bitchin’ new platter entitled Jungle, which came complete with a single smasheroo of even ultra-“I’m On Fire” proportions (the lethally-catchy “Girls”). And once again, as if on some sort of cosmic cue, I found myself in scenic Vancouver stumbling one night upon, in the far-from scenic Nite Lites club, another surprise Dwight Twilley gig! Bluffing myself onto the guest list as West Coast stringer for FFanzeen (“FFanzeen?” “Oh, yeah, it’s a very big mag back East – sorta like Circus…”) and bluffing my mini-recorder past the bouncer in true Rock ‘n’ Roll High School style (…“It’s a hearing aid, okay?”), I sat thru one of the most sweaty sets of sounds since Destroy All Monsters opened for The Young Fresh Fellows – with just the right amount of reverb on the mike! Afterwards, what else could I do but BS my way backstage (“FFanzeen?” “Yeah – it’s gonna take up where Trouser Press left off…”) to interview The Man Himself.

Dwight Twilley? Can I have a few words?

Oh… just a couple, okay? We’re on our way back to the room to watch some old Elvis videos…

I last saw you perform five years ago in California, and the improvement since then seems practically incomprehensible!

Well, we’re touring more nowadays, and I’ve got a better band nowadays. Plus, back then, I could never get enough reverb on the mike.

Yes, I know. Also, “Girls” I think is your strongest song in ages. However… I can’t help but detect the ghost of Brian Wilson running through it.

Oh? How’s that?

The riff in “Girls” sounds exactly like the riff in “Dance, Dance, Dance”!

Yeah? Well, I think The Beach Boys suck!

Hmm… Who do you think you’ve been influenced by?

Elvis.

Uh-huh. And who else?

Scotty and Bill.

Elvis’ guitarist and bass player?

You bet.

Who else besides Elvis do you admire musically?

(Extended silent pause)

I see.

What magazine’d you say this was for?

FFanzeen

(Blank stare)

It’s sort of like the vintage old New York Rocker was back in its heyday. You remember New York Rocker, don’t you?

Nope.

Anyways… Whatever became of your old partner, Phil Seymour?

Not a hell of a lot! (Laughs) I think the only time he works now is when I let him sing a spot or two on my records. Phil missed his calling, you see, when ABC refused to cast him alongside Parker Stevenson in “The Hardy Boys” TV series. I’m afraid it’s been all downhill for ol’ Phil ever since.

Your band seems to be getting along real fine without him.

Yeah… but something’s lacking in our rhythm section, I think.

Who would be your ideal drummer then?

D.J. Fontana.

Elvis’ drummer.

You bet.

Not to change the subject any, but who would you consider to be your idea girl?

Hmm… Probably a cross between Natalie Wood and Ann-Margret. [PIGOSSIP #1: Dwight is actually married to none other than Susie Cowsill – she of “Indian Lake” and “The Rain, The Park and Other Things” fame – GPG, 1985]

How about your favorite food?

Hey! What is this? I thought you were from Fan Scene [sic – 1985], not Tiger Beat! Uhh… favorite food… Fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. And cheeseburgers – double cheeseburgers – on the road.

What’s the one song you’re most proud of?

Oh… “Don’t Be Cruel.”

No, no… I mean of your own!

Well, that’s a pretty tough one… I’d like to think Scuba Divers is my strongest album overall, as well as being my all-time poorest seller (smirk). You see, each of my records has its own set of circumstances and stories… and lawsuits… and nervous disorders… behind it. I mean, if it’s true that artistes create best under bleak and difficult conditions, then I should’ve had fifty Number One albums out by now! But, uhh, if I had to pick one single favorite song, I guess it would have to be “10,000 American Scuba Divers Dancin’.” How about you?

Without a doubt, my favorite would still have to be “I’m On Fire.”

What? You mean you don’t like Elvis?!!