When REM played in a Roller Skating rink on Long Island

2/17/13 17:16 Home

A couple of months ago my Dad brought over some boxes that contained some of my things when I lived at my parent’s house almost 30 years ago.  There are notebooks and sketch books, water colors and an endless stream of songs especially the lyrics.  When I was eighteen my dream was to make it in a band.  I got in the band and the box has the evidence from those years when I was sending the band’s tapes to IRS records, Warner Brothers and whoever else I thought may be interested in giving us a shot.  The name of the band was The Few.  It was a high school band.   We played the variety show in High School, in fact opening the show with U2’s I will Follow.  I still know the lyrics since we practiced the song a million times.  There is the evidence in the box as well of the original name of the band, GS/G9 which is/was a German military branch or that is how I remember the other singer telling me it stood for.  For a few months he was the singer of the band, but I persuaded the group the kid couldn’t sing and he was out.  We changed the name and played The Police, Driven to Tears, REM’s 1,000,000 and The Clash’s Brand New Cadillac, The Jam’s That’s Entertainment, Led Zeppelin, Joe Jackson.  More often we practiced original songs that Bob Miller wrote.  Not many people heard these songs expect for Scott’s parents where we practiced in his room, and the twenty or so at the audition for the variety show.  I should add we played two gigs. Gallagher’s in East Northport, August 9^th 1984 and Sparks also that summer.  If you notice the picture attached, I included the Sparks flyer which we passed out.  The more kids that showed up with the flyer for your band, the chances were better - not a guarantee - the band would play there again.  Being underage was a big strike against us.  Gallagher’s was an empty restaurant and Sparks barely had what I would call a…crowd.  Sparks was the place to play in Huntington.  Vance from The Mosquitoes was there.  I was petrified; my nerves forced my voice to become hoarse by the second song.  I sounded like shit, tried to push through the set with constant squirts of Chloroseptic pain medicine behind the amp.   I can still remember the commercials for the throat relief medicine.  A heavy set actor with a distinct lisp had a sore throat, struggles to swallow.  He takes a couple of squirts, signs and says, ahh, Chloro…OH…sssseptic!”  The band eventually kicked me out.  It was my best friend who took the initiative.  Bob Miller thought it would propel me to go to college and stop dreaming of being a rock star.  Since those years I met a few wannabes like the kid who was pumping gas at the Hess who liked my Clash T-shirt.  He said he was going to sing in a band.  I told him I had the same dream.  But he looked at me; I was the kid who quit before making it and he said defiantly, “Yeah, but I am going to do it.”  Go for it, but give me five dollars of regular for the beast.  I drove a real beast - Chrysler Satellite station wagon.  Take a look at the other image, although Dad had the 8 cylinder animal - sporty with cool hot rod rims, but I felt like I was driving a whale.   Getting away from the band here…back to the music and the box of memories.  So I start pulling out pictures of me playing little league - The Dukes at Larkfield Little League.  I vaguely remember their names in the picture.  There was the kid who always had egg residue on the corners of his mouth, the other kid who had a thin moustache even at nine years-old and we all inspected the thin shadow with an odd mix of fear and trepidation.  Music.  I included pictures of a fanzine the Bob Cuomo published, Crisis.  His brother’s band The Service had a decent article.  I remember one of their songs, It couldn’t happen here….I saw them play in CB’s…the brother was cool and treated Bob and I very well.  I saw their drummer years later after a Joe Strummer concert, one of his last in Brooklyn and he couldn’t believe I recognized him.  What I wanted to write about was the night I interviewed REM when they played Good Skates or the Music Hall in Setauket as it states on REM’s postcard they sent to fans to promote their Little America tour.  This was when Reckoning was out and the hit, S. Central Rain or better known as…”I’m sorry.”   The band was making it.  Their video was on MTV.  If you don't know this song it begins with the lines, “Did you ever call?”  I wrote about The Smiths previously and this was the same time.  That summer – 1984 - I was invited to attend summer school since I failed English.  It was my rebellious time and I did not care about school.  One day I wore my REM t-shirt to summer school and one of the teachers made a comment to me like, “Hey, you know they are playing out in Setauket.”  No I didn’t.  “My wife and I are going and we can take you and a couple of your friends.”  Who was this guy?  July 17^th…So, Bob Miller and my brother Dave catch a ride.  “There’s a six pack in the back,” we can split, he tells us and enjoy.  Don’t tell your parents or else I can get fired.  I wanted to meet REM.  This was my opportunity, so I made up a fake press card and brought a tape recorder.  I gave the kid my ticket to what was a roller skating rink? I asked where I can interview the band.  “Press?”  Yes, I said press.  Go out that back door there.  I walked out and bumped into Bill Berry who thought I was someone else since he was really happy to see me.    I interviewed the whole band and they signed that faint piece of paper on top in the picture, Stipe drew a snake since I asked him to sketch.  I thought I lost this and seeing this after all of these years brought back memories of that night.  It was the first night they played Hyena.  You see me and Michael Stipe there?  Can’t believe those faces are the tired and old men we are today.  After the interview with REM I interviewed Dream Syndicate and then went back out to the venue and saw Stipe and introduced my brother and Bob to him.   Dave took the picture. Turns out Stipe had a few tokes of nature before the pic was taken.   I found a lot Del Lords posters and set lists and articles from Newsday.  They had such promise; I’d like to see them make another attempt.  There is a flyer from a Secret Service show.  There will be more entries on the local scene at the time.   When I was removed from The Few and tried another attempt with a band The Dharma Bums, Bob played guitar and we had a different band that never played a gig.   There are some black and whites pictures, one in the frame of the DJ’s from WNPT radio which played the music in the commons in Northport High School.  Some of the kids from that picture are no longer alive like my partner on our show, The M&M show – Mike Abrahamson.  He passed a few years ago.   Then there is my best friend Bob Miller who went missing after fishing in San Diego on a clear calm day almost eighteen years ago, never to be seen again.  Our music remains in this box and stored in my distant recollections.

 

The past is ripe with possibilities and regret.

Thank you for reading this

That's Paul Wetserberg from the Mats who signed this for me back in 85

Why The Clash were the best fucking band in the world

I wrote a few blogs on REM. Little is mentioned on this blog regarding perhaps my all time favorite band, The Clash. Back in 1978 Tom Snyder had them on, they played sold out shows at Bonds, and the NYFD shut down some of their concerts due to overcrowding. I remember wondering who was this band who made the news in NY, the fans seems like outcasts and radicals. It was as if a riot was erupting since they could not get into the show. On Snyder’s stage were temporarily fiberglass walls. A graffiti artist used them for his work and I remember feeling this is my favorite band. They played Radio Clash. Paul Simenon on bass was a bad ass as he slapped his low strung beast. A family friend went to Asbury Park to see them and said he met Joe on the boardwalk. My walls were plastered with their pictures. I bought everything I could and they made their record cheap for the kids to afford their music. Who does this anymore? The first and only time I saw The Clash live was back in 1982 when they opened up for The Who at Shea Stadium. The weekend before they were on Saturday Night Live, and played Straight to Hell and I recall Should I Stay or Should I Go. The Who concerts were supposed the signify the passing of the baton from The Who, veterans of arena rock to The Clash, the radical punks who were making a commercialized name for themselves on the AM radio with Rock the Kasbah. I came back home from a Boy Scout trip from the Delaware River and told the truck full of good God fearing lads who they were. At Shea heard they played Train in Vain, London Calling and more. I was packed with others in the outfield. Strummer wore glasses and the band sounded loose, not really what I expected. MTV later played a live version of Should I Stay or Should I go, but that was recorded from the previous night. Someone corrected me at school when I went around declaring I was in the audience. Being a Clash fan was a radical declaration that I was a punk. I was a rebel with a fuck you attitude. I did not want to conform. The only option to Regannomics was anarchy. John Wayne was dead and so is America was a statement I would write in my social studies class. Anger can be power don’t you know that you can use it. Was a line from their song Clampdown off London Calling, my English teacher read the back of my test where I wrote the line and read it out loud to the class; I was not sure if I was in trouble or he appreciated the blunt statement. If I recall he was going through a divorce at the time, and maybe the sentiment triggered a deeper hatred. I spray painted buildings in the VA in Northport with The Clash sign, the same large font which was used off their first album. There were different versions of their record, the import with a black background and the domestic olive green. Mick and Joe and Paul stood in a stairwell and looked blankly into the future. I was given London Calling for my 16th birthday a couple of years after it came out. Uncle Bob Runyan my 11th grade social studies teacher brought an article he found in Mother Jones’s on them and was impressed with their support of the Sandinista movement. In fact we worked on having a spokesman from the movement come to our school. Soon I became consumed with every Clash record. The band ended with a fizzle. It’s a shame Joe kicked out Mick Jones and they released, This is London which I am sure I have still in the wrapper. They toured the US but the life was sucked out of them. This is London is a shitty song and when they played a local venue Hofstra University, I refused to see them since this was not the band. I still go back to the songs from time to time. Meeting Joe Strummer was lifelong dreams come true. In fact I met him twice. Years after I saw The Clash and saw him perform at The Palladium for his – I will give it three stars - Earthquake Weather album. He only played a few shows in the US and for years went sort of underground. When I learned he was playing in town I was invited to a pre-show event. Strummer was playing Irving Plaza. My sister’s boyfriend Dennis worked at KRock and he was known in town as being Joey Ramone’s favorite DJ on the radio. Dennis said he had passes for the VIP and invited me to have dinner with Joey and Tim from Rancid and some other friends. I think Jesse Malin was there. I sat next to Joey and didn’t have a dime to get anything to eat nor did I add my input to the conversations. There was little I could say except when it became obvious this outsider was sitting at their table, he looked at me, asked casually, “And who are you?” I explained who I was and who brought me; he nodded and shook his head. He was a gentleman. Tim was quiet, sitting across from us, barely audible above the clamor in the place. From what Dennis explained Strummer was on his label, Black Cat records, Tim was a millionaire. Not bad for a tattooed punk from California, I think they were from California, I remember one of their songs I saw on MTV. One of them spat into the camera, but they appeared too professional. California has a way to make sweat appear glossy. I’m getting away from the first time I met Strummer. Up in the VIP section at Irving Plaza, Matt Dillon was there, Jim Jarmuch the director, Joe was in some of his movies. There were other artists and actors. Strummer did a shout out to Joey Ramone, and he also yelled out to the house manager shut off the air conditioning. Soon the place was sweltering. “I got something for you,” he said dripping in sweat and belted out the open power chords to London Calling and the place flew into a riot. Heads rose up and rejoiced, falling back into the crowd, their arms flung and twisted, hundreds of bodies were sporadically lurching to get closer to the man. He also played something he rarely played Rock the Kasbah as a shout out to Topper Headon. After the show we walked through the village with Matt Dillon who had three girls on him over to Jesse’s bar. We had the downstairs VIP to ourselves. Matt was standoffish, a dick for the most part, had a stuck up Hollywood attitude. Maybe it was my drunken state? Then Strummer came down and Dennis came over to me and said, “I got’s someone who wants to meet you.” He brought me over to Strummer and we shook hands and another DJ took our picture together, Joe leaned his sweaty head into mine and I wish I had that picture. Joe signed my concert ticket and we were off to cause drunken destruction in Queens. The second time I met Strummer, his last release received critical acclaim and he seemed to back in the game. The show was at the St. Anne’s Warehouse in Brooklyn. He played six shows and was his last in New York. Rudy Can’t Fail was sung and the crowd sang along with him. He looked somewhat overweight, his black shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. The concert was incredible and he played a good chunk of his new material. I thought the night was over, but we walked down to a bar from the club to have a nightcap. Strummer walked in with a cheer. He wore a light blue jacket and I approached him asking if he would sign my poster. He was a nut job for the most part, pretended to speak to someone who had their back turned to him, just to throw me off. It didn’t stop me. “Can you please sign my poster?” He did and we shook hands. As always I have a question, “What was it like playing with The Pogues?” “They’re all a bunch of drunks.” Later I corned him in the basement of the bar, a drunken Asian woman begged him to sign her breasts but he wouldn’t. I nudged her off and had one more request, this was the one song I never heard and wanted to hear, even just a few lines. My sister was with me and I leaned in. “Joe can you sing me a couple of lines from Broadway?” He said, “No Michael….Nope…No…” I thought I lost. Then he leaned over and sung into my ear. “It ain’t my fault it’s six o’clock in the morning.” We drove home (Green Lights…drive) and I had a fixed smile on my face and felt nothing could compare to that…