Random Ramblings

11/6/19 22:05 Bethlehem, PA

I spoke to Joey earlier while I was in the office.  He looked happy, healthy and I thought we would have another FaceTime tonight.  This was a night when I read.  Currently reading End of Watch by Stephen King, which is Part II in the Mr. Mercedes trilogy.  Love his pace and the compact hits, like rib shots from a boxer who is close enough to swing all of his weight into me.  Anyway, it’s quiet here.  There is a large dog barking at something in the night.  Some traffic.  One of the neighbors across the street is fighting again and he’s yelling. This is different, since these outbursts do not occur during the week.  He has his standards, so something must have wrecked him.  I submitted my most recently completed novel to a publisher.  I sent a sample to a local agent and there it is, not giving up on the dream.  On my lunch break, I walked around the neighborhood and listened to a podcast on The Clash, it was Chuck D from Public Enemy.  I sent a link to Dave since I know he will enjoy it.  There were some excellent clips from Strummer yelling at the US Festival, cursing at the last gig as The Clash and his attempts to reform the group, especially as Mick Jones formed BAD.  I didn’t know he played on their first album.  And weeks before Strummer died, the duo were on a stage for a benefit concert by chance.  Their last song, London’s Burning, which was the first song they wrote. 

Thank you for reading this.

I can be a DJ on WDIY

10/11/19 22:12 Bethlehem, PA

Listening to Betty Carter’s 30 Years.  I remember playing this for Ali.  Betty was singing about how her husband was leaving her after 30 Years.  We’ve been together for 30 Years, I love you, don’t go.  Thinking about last Saturday night when the six of us ate together for the first time in almost 2 and a half years.  Sitting across from my ex.  Both of us at times rolling our eyes at something one of our kids said.  I’m curious how she is doing.  How is she coping?  We spoke a couple of weeks back and I opened up.  She is aware I am in a 12 step program and was happy to hear of my progress and yet she was upset that I could not be sober while we were married.  And we move on.  I asked if she had dated, and she went back to being cautious, I refuse to answer that question.  I was at a meeting tonight.  There is strength in the rooms, vulnerability, confusion and I’m struck with how similar our stories are.  So many times I can relate, nod in agreement, yes.  I was there.  I felt the same way, thought the same and this is why we are together.  I live in a room in Bethlehem for a reason.  There are choices to make each day and especially at night and tonight I chose to be in a room in another town.  It was worth the drive.  I stopped at an ice cream place which I have passed each time I went to the meeting and thought I will buy a shake on my way home.  Tonight was the night.  A pumpkin shake.  The dark blue sky over the black hills.  It's cooler, getting colder. The radio was playing Betty Carter, WDIY and one of the guys in the room had a WDIY t-shirt on.  Maybe I can be a DJ on the radio station and play eclectic music?  I can read poetry and quotes from Pema Chodrin Thomas Merton or a Zen koan.  I wish I was on the radio and can share some thoughts.  It will be at night, after midnight and there will be a dozen or so listening to my show.  From time to time I will ask if they have a request, but I’m only playing the song if it’s cool.  I recognize the caller, she wants to hear something lame.  No, not playing it.  I get back on.  So, dear listeners, let us now listen to The Clash, Broadway.

Thank you for reading

A review of Henry Rollins' Before the Chop

6/14/14 08:38

“I write this to you because at this moment, this is the entire world and everything I know.”  Henry Rollins 2/2/12 Antwerp Belgium

This morning I finished Henry Rollins’ Before the Chop, LA Weekly Articles 2011-2012.  It is published on his press 2.13.61.  Last year, I bought a signed copy from his web site, http://henryrollins.com.   Signed copies are still available, unlike his new book which sold out quickly of the limited edition (1,500) signed and numbered.  A Grim Detail.   

Before the Chop consists of the original versions of articles which were published in LA Weekly.  The weekly is the ubiquitous undergound LA publication and the editors made edits (chops) and shortened the originals; which makes this book a mandatory for his die-hard readers.  The work captures Rollins at his rawest and shares the insights of his recent world travels, in cities and an venues as well as his ever changing moods. Don't take that the wrong way.  Let me clarify this by saying Mr. Rollins is an excellent reporter with a keen eye and a respect for his readers as well as his fans.  As with his previous books and spoken word performances, Rollins is intelligent, articulate and blunt.  As I read the book I felt like I was listening to him on a private tour.  In fact he was the tour guide.  I just wished the articles would continue, but like his real tour with 188 shows in 19 countries – this book concluded.  In fact the ending was an unpublished interview with Nick Cave.   

What can you expect when you read this book?  He shares his passion for music.  So let me say this here and now, if you are not a fan of rock, punk, jazz or any music in general - this book is not be for you.  And the theme of music is constant throughout which I had to remind myself was the sole reason for the articles.  Rollins shares his favorite bands, records, interviews, memories of being on tour with either Black Flag or the Rollins band as he prepared himself for a show in the city he was in.  There were some repetitious themes which can occur when you’re writing a weekly article on the music you love.  It is very clear, Mr. Rollins has an insatiable desire to see or hear, touch, taste, smell, Iggy Pop and The Stooges in mono or stereo, outtakes, wherever and whenever.  This is one reoccurring theme, and another is how essential music is for his escape from the world. “If I can’t have a stage to report to every night, I will drown my sorrows in a sea of tunes!”   Some choose alcohol or drugs or other means, Henry seeks solitude and a self-imposed perfection from his music.  He likes music a hell of a lot.  Being a Rollins reader and alright a fanatic, I feel he is fighting off the depression he wrote about in his earlier works, but that’s only my assumption.  “Several minutes later, I eat and evaluate the incredible emptiness I am feeling. The people at my shows are going to be done with me before I am done with them.  It’s going to be extremely hard to deal with the fact that it’s going to be over well before I am done.”  

So, perhaps the editing could have been tighter?  Stooges…Fun…House…Iggy…best…performer…stares at the audience.  Got it.  We will salute you Mr. Pop.  We will see Mr. Pop.  But I have listened to The Stooges based on Henry’s proclamations, and I agree: The Stooges capture/d the punk spirit.  In fact most of the bands he refers to are not to be ignored. Coltrane is another constant point, but I have to agree with this statement Rollins makes, “Just my opinion, but artistic expression is humanity at its best.  Science, technology, modern medicine are all of course fantastic- but when I put on a Coltrane album and can actually hear him push the air from his lungs into his horn to create that sound, the total and perfect humanity of that…I am unable to find the right words to express how much it moves me and what a miracle I find it to be.”  

Surprisingly, this reader was exposed more to the real Rollins, the confessional wordsmith which for legions of us, continues to gain our respect and admiration over the years.  Yet, as he moves forward seeking new bands and latching on to his favorites, he saw Dinosaur Jr. a number times in a year.  There is the lurking DC past which creeps up quite often.  Before I forget, the reason for all of the Dinosaur shows, Rollins interviewed the band on stage on a few dates.  For the record I saw the show at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia with OFF! as an opening band.  So, Henry continues to tread in the past, going back to DC where he used to live and had the last “job” he held before joining Black Flag.  In this book, he shares the opportunity he had when he came across the new owner of the house he and his mother lived in when he was a teenager.  With sensory precision, holding the banister, he brings us back to the basement with the familiar scent and the marks in the wall that he an Ian Mackaye made when shooting a pellet gun more than 30 years before.   

But hold on a second, back in 84, I doubt Henry Rollins would print in Spin magazine his guilty pleasures. “With the advent of CD’s, that best of Kansas was one of the first purchases I made, along with some of Madonna’s albums.”  Also sharing his purchases of Duran Duran, Culture Club, Men at Work.  And he tells us IF WE have a problem with it…“Bite Me!”  I don’t have a problem with it.  I understand you love music and pretty much any music.  Well, in that case I lay claim to listening to and cherishing my Haircut 100 album.  Let’s move on.  Mr. Rollins craves music and collects albums as he treks across the world, he preaches the best sound is off the vinyl.  He collects a new album a day?  Did I read that right?

                “From an early age up to now, I am still awed by the completeness of sitting alone in a room, listening to music, somewhat isolated from the hot and bothered world.  It is a small, controllable and to a great extent, perfect place.”  Henry Rollins 8/23/13 Los Angeles, CA

                The articles continue on LA Weekly and Henry can be heard on the radio spinning his tunes for his fanatics as he refers to the audience.  You can listen in on KCRW on Sunday nights and take a lesson on all of the slam bam musical history and the joy he has in spinning the turntable and his deep knowledge.  

I also saw some dates in the future; let’s see if that means Henry will be back on tour?

Thank you for reading this.

You have to see Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker, really. I'm serious...

1/25/14 19:07 Home

Last Sunday, was one of those winter prison blues days when being alone and isolated is acceptable even universal?  Well we got out for a few things.  Of course we went to church, who do you think we are, heathens?  Eric, my brother-in-law and I planned on heading into the city to see Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker who were performing at the Highline Ballroom, West 16^th.  I had a chance to buy the tickets on-line, but didn’t want to pay the service charge.  We took the chance and we drove into the night, past Brooklyn and arrived in the lower East side, made our way up the Bowery and across Houston and up town a little more till we finally parked the car on the street.  I enjoyed listening to Eric describe my nephew’s basketball team.  They are the only 7 year-old team and are having a losing season.  He realized the kids don’t care, after getting clobbered and on the drive back home, Deklan (his son) asked, “Who won?”  Back to the night… except for the gas, we didn’t pay any tolls or for parking, but had to pay to get into the Highline. Near the ticket booth was the bass player for Cracker, guess he was waiting for someone.  Eric and I saw Camper/Cracker a couple of years ago at the same venue.  As if the past repeated itself; we walked up to the balcony, and where we sat at a table, and had the same meal as last time, small kobi burgers and beers.  If you don’t know, Camper was David Lowery’s band till they broke up in’89 and formed Cracker less than a year later.  Their current drummer and he’s been their drummer (both Camper/Cracker) is an old friend from my parent’s block, Frank Funaro.  Frank also plays for the Del Lords and has been on a number of records as per his web site, Joey Ramone?  I need to ask Frank about that.  If I had to choose, between the Cracker or the Camper set, I would lean towards Camper.  I know more of their songs and the lyrics are poetic.  During both sets a film crew was recording the show.  There were a few times when the camera man would get too close to one of the musicians and was distracting from the performance.  I spoke to Frank briefly after the show.  He was busy catering to about 20 guests he said and apologized.  No problem.  I don’t have a set list for either band, but wanted to share something. I will work on getting a list…I will…damn, they played White Riot and Wasted when they were in DC?  Really?

Thank you for reading this

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 cornered 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) I had a fixed smile and one of those memories that never fade away…

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…

Radio Free Long Island WUSB 90.1 FM

Finn’s Revolution WUSB 8/17/10
Driving home after making my cold calls on the west coast, I discovered a cool show on WUSB a few months back. The DJ was playing song after song of diverse music, eclectic, jazz, songs from disenchanted angels and such. Coltrane, Lou Reed, replacements, Minor Threat. I sent an email to the program director, asking for an interview to promote my novel Killer Commute. I called after there was no response. Last Tuesday the hard work paid off and I sat down in the radio booth with the man himself, Finn and chimed in after he played REM’s Mr. Richards. I hope to link the interview here so you can hear it. Finn asked some great questions and I truly appreciate the time. He ended the show with one of my requests, Broadway by The Clash. Joe Strummer sang a couple of lines into my ear when both of us were intoxicated after one of his last nights in New York, Ain’t my fault it’s six O’clock in the morning…”
Thank you Finn