The Happiest Days Of Our Lives

In September of 1978 I started 8th grade in a new town. My parents had split up the previous year and my mom and I could not afford to live in the house we shared as a family, so we were forced to move. I had been in the same house in the same school district since 2nd grade and the summer after 7th we quietly left it all behind. 5 years was the longest we'd lived anywhere (it would hold that record for me until 2005) and it was hard to start over at 13 without a single friend.

Not much changed that first year. My sense of humor and penchant for doodling caricatures impressed a couple kids, but apart from that I had a lot of trouble fitting in.

In December of 1979, 3 months into 9th grade, I found solace in Pink Floyd's The Wall. The advance single, "Another Brick In The Wall Part 2" had been played on the radio for weeks and I eagerly awaited the complete album. I was completely drawn into it's story of isolation and related to the character's relationship with his mother (I didn't lose my father but I certainly felt "left" by him). A few months later Pink Floyd performed The Wall over 5 nights at Nassau Coliseum. I wasn't able to go, but did score a bootleg concert jersey (complete with black 3/4 sleeves). I read a review of the show so I was prepared whenever I wore the shirt if anyone asked how the show was (I'd pepper my recollection with details only someone who'd been there (or read a review) would know). It was just one of the many ways I attempted to fit in, and it was also one of the most successful.

It didn't last, though, my manufactured "cool". As with anything that gets too popular, there was a backlash against The Wall and wearing the jersey no longer elicited the knowing nods in the hall. Still, by then I had established some friendships (one that actually lasts to this day) and didn't need covert tactics like that anymore.

I never expected it to happen, and I had to wait 30 years, but The Wall is being performed live again; albeit just by Roger Waters, but if his In The Flesh tour is any indication it's gonna be a top-notch show. I got caught up in the presale hooplah, joining the email list to be notified when tickets went on sale. A pair were purchased 8 weeks ago and only today was I notified where my seats are: a little more than halfway around the arena, second row, one section up, the first 2 seats. Pretty much exactly where I'd hoped they'd be; a perfect view of the whole show.

Unfortunately there's no one left to impress.

I'm still gonna get a jersey.

A blast from the past

The phone rang Tuesday night shortly after Kary got home from work. I looked at the caller ID but didn't recognize the name, so I let the machine get it. "Hi, this is NK..." and for some reason, even though reading the name meant nothing to me, as soon as she said her name I knew who she was. She and her husband were friends with my parents from before I was born. They all lost touch when my parents split up in '77 and my mom passed away in '87. NK apparently isn't aware, because her message went on to inquire about my mother (if I was, in fact, the CG she was looking for).

Of course I should return her call, but I really don't want to. I have a friend that suggested that if/when I do, I should focus on the stuff about my mom that made me and NK happy, which is easier said than done, but is also very good advice. She'll be surprised to hear the news so it's hard to predict where the conversation could go from there. I still wanna speak with my dad first to see if it's OK to pass along his contact info should she ask for it.

NK and her husband were nice people. We spent a lot of time with them and their son, who was a little younger than me if I remember correctly. They would all stay up late, smoking, drinking whiskey sours and playing cards (it seemed that's what every adult I knew did back then). If we were at their house I'd be in my pajamas and forced to sleep in their bed. There was once when I was maybe 5; I tossed and turned to the point I fell out of the bed and hit my head on the base of the bedside table. I knew it hurt but didn't imagine the looks of horror I'd face as I stood in the doorway holding the top of my head. "I fell out of bed." "Oh my GOD!" Apparently the blood had saturated my hair and I was later described as looking like Lucille Ball.

I survived that fall, and a few dozen since (and more than a few more looks of horror), but those are stories for another time. For now I have to concentrate on a phone call I'm more than a little hesitant to make.

She asked me why the singer's name was "Alice"

As has happened more often than not, Main Man Records is planning a tribute to an artist I know little about, and as is also often the case, I will be appearing on it numerous times.

I was never much of an Alice Cooper fan. I will cop to digging Welcome To My Nightmare in my teens, but that played more into my KISS obsession than anything else (it was produced by Bob Ezrin, who went on to produce Destroyer for KISS the following year). I like the theatricality of the record and it told a story (sort of) which also appealed to me (and laid the groundwork for my progressive rock phase 7 years later). Apart from that album, though, I never cared for Alice's songs... at least the ones I'd heard on the radio. Turns out his hits weren't necessarily his best songs (I shouldn't be surprised, as I've come to learn singles are written to be popular and album tracks reflect an artist's true creativity). I've also learned that before Welcome To My Nightmare Alice Cooper was a band.

So with the announcement of the album tribute to Alice Cooper's 4th record, Killer, came requests for my services. First up was Frankenstein 3000 (being a full fledged member basically guaranteed my involvement) and we're doing "Desperado". I've already recorded drums for Johny Dey's version of "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah"; I will be playing drums for Mike Spank's take on "Muscle Of Love" and Gin House Bandits (which I am also a member of) will be tackling "Teenage Lament '74", both of which can be found on Alice Cooper's Greatest Hits, which will also be covered in full. I had never heard any of those songs before I knew I had to learn them and I already prefer them all to any of Alice Cooper's popular songs.

None of Alice's solo albums will get the tribute treatment, which is maybe just as well. I may have never been exposed to the Alice Cooper band's music otherwise and that would have been a shame... kinda like how I never thought I liked mustard until I tried it recently. I wish mustard and I had gotten better acquainted years ago.

Now I want a turkey sandwich on multi-grain bread with wasabi mustard.

The clock strikes 12 and moondrops burst, out at you from their hiding place

In case you didn't know, Blue Öyster Cult is just about the greatest band ever. OK, maybe they're not everyone's cup of tea, but from time to time it strikes me just how awesome they were for a period of time... a time I like to revisit quite often. I have my stepmother to thank for turning me on to them. She gave me her extra copy of their second album, Tyranny & Mutation, and I was immediately hooked. From the cranked-up boogie of opener "The Red & The Black" (a sped up version of "I'm On The Lamb But I Ain't No Sheep" from their debut) to side 1 closer "7 Screaming Dizbusters", through last track "Mistress Of The Salmon Salt (Quicklime Girl)". It was a psychedelic heavy metal joyride that I didn't fully understand, and to this day their lyrics still make little sense to me, but I do know they meant every word they sang and every note they played. This was a band that was truly doing their own thing and that was almost always what I was looking for. It may be a cliché for a middle-aged man to say, but there isn't much currently that can hold a candle to music in the 70s and BÖC is a perfect example of "they don't make 'em like that anymore".

As I usually do when I discover a new band, I ran out and got as much of their other material as I could find, which by then was probably 4 or 5 studio albums and a couple live albums. For a long time BÖC was the band I'd seen the most (partly because I liked them so much and partly because they were from Long Island and played there constantly). In high school I was elected among my friends to choose and carry the music we listened to while we hung out at night in our neighborhood. Some Enchanted Evening, BÖC's second live release, was a staple (along with Deep Purple's Deepest Purple and KISS ALIVE!). It featured what is still the finest version of "Astronomy" and a fantastic cover of MC5's "Kick Out The Jams". Their studio output didn't capture their live energy (much like Cheap Trick wasn't able to capture their true sound on record until Live At Budokan came out) but the first 10 years of their releases are still in heavy rotation.

My latest BÖC obsession is the Rhino Handmade release of Stalk-Forrest Group - St. Cecelia (The Elektra Recordings). SFG was what BÖC was called (with a different bass player) before they signed to Columbia Records, and St. Cecelia was the album they recorded for and was rejected by Elektra. It's closer to a psychedelic jam-band sound than their later material, but no less interesting. They already had lyricist/guru Sandy Perlman in the fold (strictly on a sideline basis, as Perlman was not a musician) and 4/5 of the future writing team, so you can hear the BÖC sound kinda bubbling under the surface. The CD was limited to 500 copies and I foolishly passed on it when it was initially released in 2001. I regretted it for years but kept my eye peeled for a copy. Then, on a trip to The Princeton Record Exchange this past Record Store Day, I came across it in the BÖC section (which I always check, just in case). However, at $30, I once again passed up the opportunity and instead spent my budget on other, more "important" items. For days after I could do little else but wonder how long the SFG CD was going to sit there and if I'd have another chance at owning (and subsequently listening to) it. Later that week my obsession won out and I went back to PREx. Luckily it was still there, so I snatched it up. I'm able to justify purchases like that because of the amount of money I save by buying mostly used CDs. I know I won't listen to the SFG as much as I do BÖC, but there's a certain comfort in knowing that it's there in my collection.

Now to decide if it goes with the other BÖC releases or gets stored on its own between Staggering Statistics and Stars Of Track And Field.

What did the drummer get on his IQ test?

When people find out I'm in a band, I have a habit of clarifying. "I'm not a musician, I'm a drummer", I'll say. It's a joke (and one that usually gets a laugh), but in a way I don't really consider myself a musician. If someone were to say "Play me a song", the best I'd be able to come up with is a rhythm on my legs (and apart from "Wipe Out", drum parts are often difficult to recognize out of context). Not exactly sittin'-'round-the-campfire fare. I envy real musicians; ones that can pick up a guitar or sit at a piano at a party and immediately start to entertain the gathering throngs.

I wanted to be Peter Criss. Most kids my age wanted to be someone in KISS, but most of them gave up on that dream by the time Dynasty came out. Not me. My dad got me my first drum set for Christmas in '78 so when Dynasty came out in '79 I was ready to play along. My cousin Chip (now Charlie) got his guitar that same Christmas and we'd get together over summer vacations and play whatever he'd learned (remember that I am not a musician so I could fake my way through any song, as long as it was in standard 4/4 time).

As my taste in music changed so did how I played. The first band I was in that played original music was called Equilibrium. It was formed the summer I graduated high school on Long Island by myself, my friend Glenn (vocals) and his classmate Chris (guitar). I cannot recall the bass player's name, but he didn't come to practice often anyway. It didn't last long (we weren't very good), but we managed to write 3 songs (I think) and learn some fairly complicated covers (Triumph's "Fight The Good Fight", Styx' "Queen Of Spades" and Led Zeppelin's "The Ocean" among others). After we broke up I continued to play when I could. I set up my drums in my room but my mother would complain that they took up too much room (which they did). By then I was dating a girl whose brother played drums so I didn't need mine set up all the time anyway.

My interest in progressive rock led me to New Jersey and the next real band I was in, Self Portrait (along with cousin Charlie). We played songs by bands no one but us had heard of (I don't think Austin, the bass player, had heard of most of the bands before): Twelfth Night, Pendragon, Pallas, IQ, and in 1985 we learned Marillion's entire Misplaced Childhood album. We also wrote an album's worth of original material which, for a bunch of 20 year olds, really wasn't bad at all. So for about a year I traveled from Long Island to New Jersey for rehearsals, sometimes going straight to class on Monday morning from an all-night practice/recording session. In July of '86 we played one gig (my first ever) at The Haunt in Ithica, NY. We broke up shortly after that, disillusioned that no one was interested in our interpretation of English neo-prog rock.

Ashes, another progressive rock band but based on Long Island, followed in '88. All original material this time, and I got bit by the playing-live bug big time. We managed to draw a slightly larger audience than Self Portrait did and at smaller venues, so it seemed more like a "crowd". Ashes led to my first studio recording which was an enjoyable experience but didn't make a huge impression on me.

After the demise of Ashes in early '90 I stored my kit in the attic and had resigned to the fact that I probably wouldn't play in another band. Then in February of '91 I got a call from Charlie to sit in with his jangly-pop outfit, Count 210, for a set they had booked at The Stone Pony. They'd unceremoniously sacked their drummer and needed someone ASAP. How could I turn down an opportunity to play such a legendary club? I couldn't, obviously, and shortly after that gig I was commuting back and forth to New Jersey again for rehearsals. Come the end of '91 and I moved to New Jersey for good. Count 210 lasted about 6 years after that. In the interim I played with various bands in the area, including Happysad (which Charlie was also in). My drums were permanently set up for the first time at home and between that and playing in no less than 2 bands at once, I was gettin' pretty good. Lots of recording was done during those years, and the studios we worked in were friendly enough to allow me to tweak the knobs while we mixed. My interest in engineering grew exponentially.

By the end of '97 I was once again bandless, but through the insistence of former Happysad bassist Michael, he, Charlie and I founded what is now Digger Phelps. Charlie had shared singing and songwriting duties with the female bass player in Count 210 and this new band was to be his true creative outlet. More than 10 years (and 4 former members) later, DP still exists, but on a smaller scale than I think any of us are happy with. We recorded a CD with bass player Carl (also ex-Happysad), released in 2001, and have another fully recorded with bass player Brian, which is just waiting to be mixed (possibly by your's truly).

Somewhere around the middle of 2000 I was asked to join Frankenstein 3000. Once again, our inaugural gig was at The Stone Pony. F3K's sound is harder edged than any other band I've been in, but based in 70s punk and glam, a sound I'm perfectly comfortable with. Not as dynamic as Digger Phelps, but we all need an outlet for our frustrations, and F3K fits that bill nicely for me. I've lost track of all of our recording sessions, but suffice it to say there have been a lot. Again, I've paid close attention at those sessions to someday be able to record and mix myself. I've mixed songs here and there for DP, F3K and a few for Gin House Bandits, a project with my brother-in-law. I've also been mixing the drums for F3K's last 2 records and all of the compilation tracks we've done for the past 2 years. It's tough to imagine the sound of the rest of the instruments, but I've gotten the hang of it. In fact, that's what I'm working on right now. F3K has decided to re-record 9 of the songs from our 2 original albums (we've done 2 cover records as well), add another 6 and put it out by the end of August. That means I've got 15 drum tracks to mix and I'm really putting everything I've learned into it. I gotta say, they're sounding better than anything I've done before (and I would hope that's the way things go... I'd hate to think I'd be getting worse at it). I found some isolated John Bonham drum takes from Led Zeppelin's In Through The Out Door (ain't the internet grand?) and I'm kinda using those as a template... cuz, ya know, they don't suck.

Throughout the years I've done some session work, including a CD by Christopher Dargis (former leader of Happysad) and an upcoming CD by ex-Frankenstein 3000 guitarist Johny Dey (I may play with Johny when he's ready to do full-band live shows... depends on my schedule). I've also done short stints with Mars Needs Women, Bad Biscut, Home To Henry and Shawn Mars.

I consider myself very lucky to have played with such talented artists and perform in front of so many people. I've been on lots of CDs (mostly tribute albums to bands I hadn't paid much attention to until I had to learn one of their songs) so someday I'll be able to show my son what I've accomplished in that regard. Sure, it woulda been nice if I'd reach the heights* of my original inspiration, Peter Criss, but I've taken what I could get and have enjoyed every minute of it.

*Get it? Cuz his drum riser used to go up about 25 feet in the air! Ha ha ha ha ha!

"You are human! Go forth! Go forth and thrash!"

It's strange to me that I don't have my own, but I borrowed a VHS copy of the shamefully unreleased-on-DVD 1991 - The Year Punk Broke from my brother-in-law. I must have been fairly destitute around the time it came out and just never bothered to get it. Anyway, I'm in the process of digitizing it, which really just amounts to running the tape in real time while I record it to a standalone DVD recorder. That would be good enough for most people, but not me. I'll rip the audio and video to my laptop, divide it into chapters and make a pretty menu. If anyone I know wants a copy I'll happily burn it for them, but I don't expect a whole lot of requests (if any). I'm even considering remastering the audio cuz, according to director Dave Markey's site, it doesn't look like it's gonna be coming out anytime soon (check out the list of extras he's prepared for it).

I was talking to my wife last night about it, but I still can't get a grip on why I liked the music of that time period so much. I was already in my 20s when I first heard Soundgarden on WNYU in 1988, promoting their FOPP EP, which I promptly purchased the next day. That led to my love of Green River, Mudhoney, The Fluid, Tad and in 1989 I anxiously awaited the release of Nirvana's Bleach, having been completely enthralled by their song "Spank Thru" on the Sub Pop 200 compilation. I guess my point is that it wasn't teenage rebellion that drew me to the aggression that fueled the origins of grunge. Something about it all spoke to me, though, and to this day I've yet to experience the same connection that music gave me... and believe me, I still look.

CLEAR!

I guess there's still a little life in here.

I left this blog for dead almost 5 years ago and headed to the greener pastures of MySpace. I left those green pastures for the pure, clean, white background of Facebook. Now I'm back because FB doesn't inspire the creativity that this (nor MySpace) does/did/will. Whether I'll stick around is another issue. It's not like I don't have the time... currently unemployed and not having a whole lotta luck in that department. Perhaps a place to vent my frustrations with the job market and to document the goings-on in my life will do me some good.

So I start with this, the kiss of life.