Back to: alt.sex movie/The Atlantics webpage.

NOTE: I'll get around to re-formatting this page in the future!

Fred Pineau: My Strange Musical Journey

The Early Years

My Father was born in 1900, and was a vaudeville performer who went by the stage name of Fred Lewis from about 1917 until his death in 1964. My Mother indulged his love of the stage, but was never very interested in it. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on the living room floor listening to my Father play our huge upright piano and sing a wide variety of songs. He, like many vaudeville performers, could play several instruments, sing, dance, and do comedy. He told me that this came from having to provide the theaters with whatever type of act they needed. If they needed an MC/comedian on Friday, great! If they needed a soft shoe act on Saturday, no problem! I grew up around all sorts of musicians, singers, dancers, jugglers, etc.. They would perform in our living room, Elks Lodges, bars, weddings, basically wherever anyone would still let vaudeville people perform. I've always said that while I wasn't born in a trunk, I was definitely born close to one.

Much to my Fathers dismay, I never showed much interest in performing myself. That is, until I heard The Beatles! As with thousands of other teenagers, The Beatles filled me with the desire to play Rock & Roll. My parents bought me a very cheap used Silvertone electric guitar, and for about a year, my friends and I jumped around and pretended to be The Beatles, Stones, Kinks, etc.. But that all changed a short time later, when I attended my first live show. My high school had booked The Kingsmen, of "Louie Louie" fame, to perform in the high school auditorium. It was a hot event (we were so young!). There were to be a few opening acts, local bands that were riding the English Invasion popularity. The first act was Barry and The Remains. It's hard to describe what effect they had on me, but all of my friends thought that I was nuts the next day when I couldn't stop talking about them instead of The Kingsmen. The Remains, particularly Barry Tashian, inspired me to actually learn how to play the guitar. So for the next few years, I sat in my room and taught myself how to play. I was so insecure about my playing that I was 18 before I began playing in bands.

I went through the usual series of faceless bands until I got involved in a band that was in many ways ahead of it's time. Automatic Slim In 1972, I teamed with three other musicians, Vampyre Mike Kassel/guitar, John Hovorka/bass, and Robin Baltimore/drums, to form Automatic Slim. I had answered an ad in The Boston Phoenix that Mike had placed, and we found that we shared the same vision. Mike was into everything from Carl Perkins to the English Invasion to The New York Dolls. He is kind of an evil genius of rock and roll, the only criteria being that it has to rock like Hell! He eventually moved to San Francisco and has remained true to his musical vision with his sixties recreation band, The Mysterious Ice Wyrms, as well as becoming a published author. The Ice Wyrms are keeping good company, as they recently did a show with Sky Saxon of The Seeds on vocals! We remain close friends to this day, and I have always valued his opinion in the projects that I undertake. In later years, John Hovorka would go on to form another notable Boston band, The Turbines. We were into everything that no one seemed to want to hear at the time. Boston had no original music scene. None.

When I hear young original bands bitch about only being able to get a Wednesday night at a club, I want to take them back to when you couldn't get ANY night at ANY club! So we decided to play some cover songs, but only songs that WE wanted to play! That resulted in a set list that included material by such bands as The Velvet Underground, The Stooges, and early Kinks. No club wanted to let us within fifty feet of the building. This, of course, was before everyone decided that groups like The Velvet Underground were cool. But we did manage to score an occasional gig, and one time nearly got the crap beat out of us by a bunch of drunken football players at a high school dance for refusing to play "Colour My World" And because my childhood friend Gene Hanagan was making time with the quarterbacks girlfriend. This was at the town's new recreation center located in the middle of the woods. This place made Mayberry seem like Times Square on New Years Eve. Even the local Police hated us to the point that when we informed them all of the high school jocks were waiting to kill us as we loaded up, they wished us luck and left! It ended up looking like a scene from an early Roger Corman movie!

We loaded up, scavenged anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, and formed a two car caravan down the mile and a half dirt road that led to the center of town. Apparently the only real sport that the high school boys had was gathering together in a large gang, getting drunk, and beating the crap out of anyone that they didn't know. Now, there may be some of you that say "These are STILL only high school kids, what's the big deal?" Well, fifty drunken Gomer Pyles may be stupid and bumbling, but they can still cause a lot of damage. We tore down that dirt road at about sixty miles per hour, and encountered a road block half way to the main road. I was driving the first car, a large Plymouth station wagon loaded with equipment, and if I was going down, I was taking someone with me. When I spotted the road block, which consisted of a Camaro and some kids Fathers Impala, I sped up, aiming for the spot where the Camaro and Impala's bumpers were touching. The kids were sitting behind the steering wheels of the cars and, understanding that there was a really bad accident looming that would be really hard to explain to Uncle Jed and Granny, they pulled off at the last moment as we flew past. They regrouped and tried to follow us, but they were just a dot in my rear view mirror before they knew what hit them.

The shows that we ended up getting were always a nightmare. Mostly last minute gigs that other bands had pulled out of for one reason or another. There was a rather questionable agent by the name of Norman that was fond of giving us last minute gigs that his own band would pull out of to take a higher paying shows. The only problem was, he never bothered to call the people that booked the show to tell them there was a change in bands. It resulted in a lot of uncomfortable conversations when we would arrive, and starting the night out with everyone pissed off at us.

We played a club in Chelsea, Mass. Affectionately known as The Bucket Of Blood. It was filled with guys that stepped right out of the movie "Goodfellas" There were fights all night, including one between two women that nearly destroyed every table and chair in the place! They also ended up wanting to kill us! They kept demanding that we turn down so that they could hear the hockey game on television. We finally snapped, and tore through a VERY loud version of "Pills", the Bo Diddley song that was covered by The New York Dolls. Much to our relief, we got out with our lives and they never asked us back. Most of the time we ended up playing a long drive away from home, and I remember that John Hovorka always had enough gas to get his old Mustang to the shows, but never enough to get him home. This led to us siphoning gas out of cars in the parking lots of the clubs that we were playing in at 3:00am and praying that the drunken owner of the car didn't stumble upon us. Many times, after four hours of listening to morons criticize what was later to become Alternative Music, and disguising our original songs by announcing them as obscure cover songs by artists that might be acceptable to the crowd, this was the high point of the evening. Mike wrote a song about the drunken townies that we stood before called "Grand Funk Retirement Home" that nicely summed up the hamster wheel of life that these people had placed themselves on.

There were a few clubs that did end up liking the band, though. There was one, Bullwinkles, that actually booked us four or five times before they went out of business. I'd like to believe that it didn't have anything to do with us. Playing the music that we chose was really frustrating. It was like knowing a really great joke, but having no one else get the punch line. After about eighteen months of beating our heads against the wall, we tossed it in. I have always maintained that if we were around in 1976, It would have been a very different story.. Aastral Projection This was a real step down musically.

After the break up of Automatic Slim, I thought about playing in a cover band, but just couldn't do it. So I got together again with John Hovorka, on Bass and a drummer by the name of John Morel. We then went looking for a singer. We placed an ad in The Boston Phoenix that was very specific about performing originals, along with The Stooges, etc.. The only response that we got was from Joe Viglione, later known to locals in Boston as The Count. He wasn't a really great singer, but he loved the music so much that we all immediately connected. The spirit was there, but musically it never came close to Automatic Slim. The only show Aastral Projection did that stands out in my mind was on Martha's Vineyard. We played a big dance in a barn along with an all women band called Witch, who would later become Girls Night Out. They were a really good cover band that the crowd loved, but we just couldn't sell the crowd on what we were doing. They hated us. After the show, we were supposed to stay at the promoter's house, as the ferry to the mainland didn't run at night. We found him outside, drunk, with a line of guys waiting to beat the crap out of him. He was taking them on one at a time. The first guy would step up, they would kick the shit out of each other for a few minutes, then the next guy in line would have a go at him. We opted to sleep in the van. This was in October, and the temperature dropped into the thirties that night. We wrapped up as much as we could, but I was awakened by my body shaking from the cold and honestly thought that I was going to die. Eventually the sun came up and we limped into the center of town and drank coffee until the ferry began operating. After yet more beating of heads against the wall, it began to get old. And something just wasn't right about the band, which made it even worse. After the first six months, we lost John Morel, added another guitarist, and changed the name of the band to Down In Flames. It was the shape of things to come. After a year or so, we tossed it in.

After the break up, Joe Viglione went on to record his own material and my first experience recording came from playing on his first few releases. It was a good way to begin, as they were recorded in small home studios. It's intimidating enough the first few times that you record - I discovered that I didn't sound anything like I'd always imagined - but if that were coupled with recording in a major studioÉ.pressure, pressure, pressure. Bonjour Aviators Bonjour Aviators was not much different in spirit than the previous bands, but the times had caught up to the music. The band consisted of Kim Preston/guitar and keyboards, John Shriver/bass guitar, Kevin Graves/drums, and myself. At one time, Kevin had been one of the drummers for sixties rock legends Blue Cheer. It was at the time of the birth of the Boston music scene as we now know it, but it was a long, complicated, time in the delivery room! The first few months that we were together, it seemed like the same old story. Out of frustration, I wrote a song titled "Boston City Limits", in which I bemoan the fact that all of the people I was performing for wanted to hear music by bands like Chicago and Styx. But Kim was originally from New York City, and he began telling us about a new music scene developing there. There were two clubs, CBGB's and Max's Kansas City, where bands could perform original music! Kim was connected, having grown up with one of the guys in Television, who were one of the biggest bands on the New York scene. We began traveling to New York to perform, beginning with a date at CBGB's opening for Television. We later opened for bands such as Talking Heads and The Dead Boys, playing both Max's Kansas City and CBGB's.

I can still remember being in the middle of a set at CBGB's seeing the then unknown Debbie Harry for the first time. She was standing at the bar in spike heels, black nylons, a black leather mini skirt, and a loose red tank top. I lost my place in the song. That first trip to New York was in December, and we made the trip back in my old Chevy Chevelle with no heater in the middle of a blinding blizzard! The trip took ten hours, and ice formed on the inside of the windows from our breath. The next day, I got up and went to the gas station. I happened to check the oil, and there was none! The car was leaking oil into the cooling system. It's a miracle that we made it back. On that first trip to New York, we stayed at the Chelsea Hotel. It was a legendary Hotel that had housed everyone from beat poets to famous authors to rock stars like Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison. It had passed it's heyday, however, and the only thing that I got out of staying there was a foot infection from the shower. The second time we went down we stayed with Terry Ork. Terry managed Television and had a huge loft. A huge, unheated, loft. It was February, and it was FREEZING in Terry's huge loft! He did, however, have a fireplace! We burned everything that we could find ‹ chairs, paper, etc. ‹ and when we ran out of stuff in the room, we tore the mantel off of the wall from around the fireplace and burned that! Ah, yes. It was a Rock and Roll dream come true.

We were doing a show with Television at Max's Kansas City, and had finished our set, when someone pointed out John Cale sitting alone at the bar. Now musically, The Velvet Underground were Gods to me! I waited to approach him because Television was in the middle of their set, but then one of them broke a string. When Television broke a string, everything came to a halt. A new string was brought forth, put on, stretched, and carefully tuned before the show could proceed. The whole process could take ten or twelve minutes, during which the rest of the band would just stand there. While they were stringing, I approached Cale and said words to the effect that I was a fan and that his music, both as a solo artist and with The Velvet Underground had been a real inspiration to me. He turned and snarled, "Yeah, well, I'm here to watch Television!" He was the first musician whom I admired that I had ever met, but I got real pissed real fast. I replied, "Oh, well, I'm sorry that you had to miss part of their tuning up!" then turned and walked away. He must have realized that he was being arrogant, and called after me, "Hey, but thanks for listening!". I kept walking. Meanwhile, things were beginning to heat up in Boston. Word got out that Jim Herald, the owner of The Rat in Kenmore Square, was experiencing hard times. The Kenmore Complex across the street, with clubs like K-K-K-Katy's and Lucifer's was killing his business. I went to see him, and Bonjour Aviators became one of the first original bands to ever play The Rat. I remember the show well. We had to play three 50 minute sets to six people, the bartender, and the waitress. We repeated three or four songs in the third set, and I remember Jimmy scolding us for it. He did, however, pay us $75.00 for the night! Seeing as how it usually COST us money to play shows, this seemed like big bucks! Jimmy was really gambling on the original music scene, and even though in later years he became harder to deal with, he took chances on a lot of bands whose careers were started and nurtured at The Rat. Slowly, people began to come. More original bands were booked by Jim and started getting airplay on college radio. I still smile when I recall the discussion that a few of us had with Jim where we suggested that he charge $1.00 for admission. Jim didn't think that it would fly, but it did, and before you knew it the cover charge was climbing. Of course, the drinking age was 18 at that time. When the drinking age was raised, and college kids could no longer go to the clubs, it changed everything. Today, there are no clubs left from that era. Up until then, it was common for a club to have new band nights. If The Rat found a band that they thought had potential, they would play the club every Monday night. That would sometimes go on for months, giving the band a chance to develop a following while developing their material. But the club scene that had grown and supported the start of a lot of great bands pretty much died when the drinking age was raised, and the conditions under which a new band could get a gig changed. All of a sudden a band had to have 50 people in the club at midnight on a Wednesday to be considered for a return gig. And if a band could pull it off, the club wouldn't want them to play weekend shows. It was much more advantageous for the club to get 50 people through the door on a Tuesday or Wednesday then to see the band go on to weekends, gain popularity, and become another of the headliners that would demand to be paid a larger sum of money. It was one of the many "Catch 22" situations in the business. And even worse, "promoters" sprung up that would charge bands to play! These people would either get a club to let them book or rent the room for a night. Then they would comb through clubs on weeknights approaching unknown bands. The pitch was that your band was fantastic!! You were the next big thing!! But only the promoter and you in the band were smart enough to see it! So, because the promoter was supposedly a giant in the Boston music scene, and because his new goal in life was to get your band heard by the right people, which of course could lead to a record dealÉ. all the band had to do was put together the money to be part of his show. This, of course, was a scam. It was played out in different ways, sometimes as being part of a package show, sometimes as being part of a compilation album. It was really a shame, and I'm not aware of any act that ever went on from these types of projects to any level of success. On the flip side, one of the funniest memories that I have was while playing in Bonjour Aviators. I had a neighbor, an elderly gentlemen by the name of Harry. Harry was a career professional musician, a trumpet player, who at one time had his own radio show. He still performed regularly at weddings and such, and approached me one day with a problem that he was having. It seems that he had booked himself into a Bat Mitzvah, and the kids wanted a live rock and roll band. I was the only rock and roll musician that he knew, and he begged me to have the band do the show with him. I tried to tell him that these kids would want a cover band, but he kept insisting that everything would be fine. And he was willing to pay us! So off we went with Harry to the Bat Mitzvah. It was held in the rumpus room of the girl's house, and the parents looked on in horror as we hauled piles of equipment into their basement. We started to play, and Harry stood in front in his tux, smiling and "conducting" the band, trumpet in hand. Every so often, Harry would play a song like, say, "Hava Nageila". Fortunately, Kim had played some of this stuff in the past, and he and Kevin would accompany Harry on keyboards and drums. John and I would turn off the volume on our guitar and bass and pretend to play along. I still have a vision of these 13 year old kids blankly staring at us while we played "Roadrunner" by Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers. One night that we were playing The Rat, a fellow came up and introduced himself as Oedipus. He was a huge fan of the new punk/new wave music, and felt that Boston was going to be a major market in the U.S. He became a fixture at local clubs, and was as dedicated to the local music scene as anyone that I had ever met. Oedi eventually talked WBCN into giving him a ten minute radio spot once a week to do a local scene report. This was big news, because at that time WBCN only played older rock acts. They didn't want to know from punk. He eventually got to do some disc jockeying and ended up crossing management, who promptly fired him. The entire WBCN on air crew went on strike to protest his firing, and I remember walking the picket line in front of the Prudential Center with them. They finally gave in and re-hired Oedi, and of course the real irony of the situation is that Oedipus eventually became the Station Manager. He has been at WBCN for many years now, and has won numerous industry awards for his inventive programming choices. We began to gain popularity, and finally negotiated with Johnny Thunders and The Heartbreakers to come to Boston for a Friday and Saturday at The Rat with us as the opening act. Johnny Thunders and Jerry Nolan were former members of the New York Dolls, so this was a real thrill for me! When I arrived at The Rat, Jim Herald informed me that the Building Department had cited him because it was the middle of summer his air conditioning wasn't working. If the next two nights were successful, then he could repair the HVAC unit and everything would be fine. But if they weren't, he would have to close the club. No pressure. The next two nights were a mixture of emotions, starting with the arrival of headliner. When they arrived, the first thing that they wanted to know was where to score. They were all Heroin users, and made it clear that there would be no show unless they could find a connection. I have never used drugs, but being in rock and roll, had obviously come into contact with many people who did. But up until that point, I had only dealt with people who smoked Pot, or maybe took a few pills. This was hard core, and it was so disappointing. The only guy in the Heartbreakers that I connected with socially was Richard Hell, the bass player and one of the originators of the Punk/Alternative scene. These were to be Richard's last dates with the band, as he was leaving to form Richard Hell and The Voidoids. Upon their arrival, Richard asked me to show him the dressing room, which was actually the Rat's boiler room. Once in the dressing room, he asked me to watch the door - I figured that he wanted to change his clothes. I was looking out the door into the club, chatting casually with him, when I started to smell something burning. I turned, and he had his works set up, heating a shot of Heroin in a spoon. Then, without dropping a beat, he tied off his arm and shot up. I had never before witnessed anyone shooting up, and it saddened me to see this talented musician/composer/poet wasting himself on that poison. Happily, Richard later went on to kick his habit and become healthy, but I believe that the other three members of the band all died with drug related problems. Just a small side note at this point: I have been playing Rock & Roll for 36 years, and have never done drugs, drunk alcohol, or smoked. It's not for any reason other than I've never had the burning desire to, but I've been the butt of numerous jokes by friends and band mates over the years because of it. Once I was even kicked out of a band because I didn't smoke pot! Of course, as time has passed I have witnessed many people that I have known end up in rehab or die as a result of an addiction that began as "social usage". I strongly believe that every person is responsible for themselves, but there is a fable that has always existed that one has to become as Keith Richard in his heyday in order to play Rock & Roll properly. That is bullshit. The only thing that anyone needs is a love of the music. Musically, both nights were a huge success! Johnny Thunders and The Heartbreakers were great, The Rat was packed both nights, and Bonjour Aviators were a big hit! We could have used that as our springboard, but Kim had begun to adopt a "New York cool" stance, and announced that he would not play encores. At the end of our set on Saturday night, the crowd went berserk! We left the stage, waited a few minutes, then went back on. But when we got there, Kim was not with us. He had left the building. It was a major embarrassment, only worsened when we discovered that we weren't going to make any money. At the end of the night, when accounts were being settled, Jim came out to speak to me. I wasn't in on the money part of it, as Kim had done all of the negotiations for the show. I had expected that we would be handing over most of the money to The Heartbreakers, as they were the headliner, but between their percentage and Kim having put them up at a four star hotel, The Lennox, there was nothing left for us. Jimmy was ecstatic that his HVAC system would be fixed, and offered to go in there with a few of the infamous Rat bouncers and tell The Heartbreakers to take a smaller cut and get lost. At that point in time, Jimmy was like a protective older Brother to the local bands. I thanked him, but said no. If that was what The Heartbreakers were promised, then that's what they should have. The anger came out later, and we fired Kim before we loaded out the equipment. In retrospect, we should have sat down and tried to work it out. Everyone makes mistakes, and God knows I've made my share. We destroyed the chemistry of the band that night by acting in anger. We reformed with second guitarist Craig Covner and the late Randall, later of Baby's Arm, on vocals. We recorded and released a 45 on our own Romantic Records label, "The Fury In Your Eyes" b/w "Boston City Limits". I was driving in my car one day listening to the Oedipus radio show on WTBS, which was a tiny radio station at MIT, when he played "The Fury In Your Eyes". It was the first time that I had ever heard myself on the radio, and I got so excited that I had to pull to the side of the road! For a musician, there is nothing like the excitement that you experience the first time you hear yourself on the radio! All of a sudden, you're validated! The record got some air play, and even ended up on the juke box at The Rat, but the lineup really never gelled and we finally broke up. My one regret about that 45 was having put "Boston City Limits" on it. I included it because I thought it was one of our better songs at the time (it wasn't), but at that point should have rewritten the lyrics, as Boston had become one of the top cities in the country for original music. At this point in time, the rest of the world began to catch on to the scene. Clubs were full on most nights, and the inevitable commercialization of Punk/New Wave began. I still have fond memories of the first Rat regulars, including Rita Rat and Tony Dumpster. Rita was a really sweet person, and one of the creators of the black clothes/black leather/black eye makeup look that is still popular today. Sadly, she passed away not too long ago. Third Rail After the breakup of Bonjour Aviators, I took a short break. I was pondering what to do next, when I heard that Third Rail, one of the top local bands at that time, was changing personnel. Third Rail was the brainchild of it's lead singer, Richard Nolan. Richard had a very specific idea of what Third Rail was going to be, and as a result, many of the musicians that played in the band felt stifled. This resulted in a frequent turnover in personnel. But after being the leader or being heavily involved in running all of the bands that I played in up to that point, coupled with the bad ending of the Aviators, that sounded like a great idea to me. So I dropped by Third Rail's rehearsal space, which was a church in Newton, and had a chat with Richard. We both were big Velvet Underground/Lou Reed fans, and that sound was heavily present in Third Rail. If I joined the band, I would still have creative input as to the writing and arranging of the material, as would the rest of the band. The idea of being in a popular band and not having to deal with agents, club owners, or anything other than showing up for rehearsals and shows, was too enticing to pass up. We began rehearsing, and about two weeks later; the Don Law Organization called with an opportunity to open for the band Boston at The Boston Garden. Richard passed on the show, as he felt the line up was still too new for a show of that scope. He was probably right, but the opportunity never presented itself again. A 45 was released on Jim Herald's new label, Rat Records. "Rondy Rush" b/w "Sweet Jane" came out with my photo included on the sleeve, but I didn't play on the recordings. They were completed before I joined the band. I spent about a year in Third Rail, and in that time we were interviewed by Robin Young for Evening Magazine, featured on the local news, and played some really interesting shows. One that I remembered clearly was opening for Wayne County and The Electric Chairs. Wayne was an outrageous transvestite rock singer that I had seen while in New York. He wrote dittys like "You Make Me Cream In MY Jeans". He later became a transsexual, and I was told that he eventually committed suicide. On Halloween, we did a live broadcast for WAAF radio at The Rat. I remember being in the middle of the set, and suddenly realizing that the rest of the band was stopping, one by one. A guy in the audience had thrown a lit M-80 on stage, and it had landed right beside the drummers kick pedal. We jumped off the stage, and the Rat bouncers came up. Fortunately, it didn't go off, and we climbed back up and continued playing. A few minutes later, looking out from the stage, I saw that Jim and the Rat bouncers had found the guy responsible. They were hauling him out the back door, kicking and screaming, into the dumpster area of the parking lot. You didn't mess with Jimmy's little brothers. Another time we were booked to play a biker convention in Maine. They were out in the woods, and I have a very clear memory of turning down the path that led to the clearing where the main tent was. As soon as we turned onto the path, two bikers carrying M-16's blocked our path. They radioed ahead to clear us before we were allowed to proceed. The whole thing was like a military operation out of a Fellini movie! Lots of drinking and guns being fired into the air. Loads of fun. I was not thrilled with the prospect of spending two days playing for these guys, but we forged on. The bikers weren't bad, other that wanting to hear endless amounts of songs by Elvis. It was the only time in my career that I figured out requests on the spot and played them. You just didn't want to say no to these guys! On another date, at The Club in Cambridge, we opened for one of the biggest bands in Boston, The Atlantics. I watched both of their sets, and was blown away by them. Later on, The Atlantics would become a major part of my career. Third Rail's drummer at that time was Rick Martin, who later went on to play in Pastiche. Our roadie was a 16 year old kid that we called Careful Mike. He earned the nickname for all of the times that he would be lugging some impossibly heavy piece of equipment and one of us would holler, "Careful, Mike!" After a while, he started playing drums, and formed a band with a few friends. We let them open for us endlessly. You may have heard of them. They were called The Neighborhoods. Careful Mike was, of course, Mike Quaglia. After a year or so, I began to get restless again, and started to lose interest in the band. It all came to a head when Richard booked the band to play two nights in New York. The problem was, they were a Tuesday and Wednesday. I was married with two kids, and couldn't take the time off from work. Richard hit the roof because he had to cancel the shows, and I quit the band. I remember that they were about to go into the studio with Ric Ocasek of The Cars producing. The Cars had just been signed to Electra Records, and it was a big deal to be working with Ric. I'm sorry that I missed it, but it turned out to be a fateful choice.

The Atlantics

After I left Third Rail, I attempted to form my own band. I was having a great deal of trouble, mostly due to the fact that I couldn't afford a rehearsal space. I heard that Johnny Barnes, another local artist, was organizing an all day Cancer benefit at The Club in Cambridge. I got a spot on the bill, and pieced together a few friends to help me out for the day. It was very haphazard, and my one memory of the set was that the PA went out halfway through one of the songs. We kept playing, and I ended up doing a five minute guitar solo! We finally got off stage, and I was feeling really depressed when I was approached by two guys with an offer that I couldn't refuse. The two guys were Tom Hauck and B Wilkinson, the rhythm and bass guitarists from The Atlantics. They had liked my playing and wanted to know if I would be interested in auditioning for the band. We went outside in the back of the club to talk more, and I expressed surprise that they would be interested in a roots/blues based guitarist like myself. Jeff Locke, the guitarist that was leaving the band, was a Berkley School of Music style player. But interested they were, and after agreeing on my adapting to their image of short hair and vintage suits should I end up in the band, (my hair was well below my shoulders) a date was arranged at their rehearsal space. I was very excited at the prospect of playing with The Atlantics. They blended New Wave with sixties style melodic rock and roll better than anyone I had ever seen. At the very least, I figured it would be fun to jam with them a few times. The first two times that I sat in with them, it went well, but no sparks were flying. The third time we played together, it was proceeding pretty much at the same pace, and I finally asked if we could take a break. We sat around for a half an hour or so, laughing and talking about the scene in general, swapping war stories and such. When we began to play again, it just clicked. I can't explain exactly why - maybe it was that we were more relaxed with each other. Whatever it was, I remember that we were playing "Be My Baby", the old Ronettes song. Toward the end of the song, I had a guitar break. Now, "Be My Baby" isn't a great song to jam on, but all of a sudden I started to play this octave line that just snapped into place! It was a true musical moment. Years later, Tom Hauck told me that had been the defining moment for him, too. From that point forward, we played as though we had been together for years. At the fourth or fifth rehearsal, the manager of the band, Fred Munao, flew up from New York to check me out. We ran through a set's worth of material, and I went home while the band and Fred Munao went to meet regarding my possibly joining the band. A few hours later, I got a call from Fred. He said that they were all in agreement that I worked well with the band, and wanted to have me join, but he wanted to give me a probation period. I replied that I would love nothing more than to be in this band, but I didn't think it was fair to devote myself to it and get tossed out in three months. After many assurances that it wouldn't play out that way, I was in! At the time that I joined, the line up was: Bobby Marron, vocals / B Wilkinson, Bass / Tom Hauk, Rhythm Guitar / Ray Boy Fernandies, Drums. It was an exciting time for me. We previewed the band with a surprise appearance at The Rat, and then it was out to the suburban clubs for many shows. I had never played so much in my career! Wherever we played, crowds loved the band. I was just starting to get used to it when about two months later, we got signed! ABC and MCA Records Fred Munao had spoken to us several times regarding ABC Records. They were interested in the band, and wanted to sign us to a singles deal, which was for three 45's. The band had a self produced 45 recorded with Jeff Locke that was ready for release, and wanted to go that route to interest more labels. But our management contract with Fred gave him Power of Attorney, and he was pushing to go with the ABC Records offer. I didn't know what to think. At that time, I knew nothing about the business side of the music industry. Now, I always advise people to learn it well before signing anything. Remember the old saying: It's called show business, not show art. In retrospect, the rest of the band, especially B and Tom, were right in fighting so hard for the self produced single. We signed the singles deal with ABC, and my education in what can go terribly wrong with a record deal was about to start. We went to New York to work at The Hit Factory with an ABC staff producer by the name of Steve DuBoff. The last hit that this guy had produced was for The Cowsills. We had trouble. Really big trouble. It was my first time in a real recording studio, and I was pretty intimidated. I relied on the producer to tell me what sounded good, and it was a disaster. We recorded "When Your Young" b/w "Big City Rock". My one memory of being produced by this guy is him telling us to play slower, and us telling him that it was supposed to be rock and roll, not elevator music! We all hated the recordings, and went back to Boston to continue performing and dreading the release of the 45. ABC had 60 days to release the record or lose the right to do so. All of a sudden, six weeks had gone by, and no record! We held our breath and kept quiet, and sure enough, 60 days passed with no release. On day 61, we asked Fred to call and pull the life support on it, which he did. I don't know what ever happened to the tapes of that recording session, but here's hoping that they are buried deep in a New Jersey land fill. At that point, we should have released the self produced 45, but all of a sudden, perhaps spurred on by the fact that they dropped the ball, ABC started talking album deal. Again, Fred felt strongly that we should consider it, and flew to L.A. to discuss it with the ABC brass. We were playing a date at The Paradise in Boston when Fred came in from the airport with the news. We were doing an album! Not only that, this time they had agreed to let us have a hand in selecting a producer! We were thrilled! ABC was not the greatest record label by any stretch of the imagination, but if we got to pick the producer, we felt that we could make a great album. But things began to go wrong almost as soon as the ink was dry on the contract. We wanted to go with Ed Stasian, who had worked with bands like The Ramones. They wanted us to use another ABC staff producer by the name of John Stronach. We dug in our heels, and so did they. A start date had been agreed upon, and as it crept closer, no agreement was in sight on the producer issue. Finally, about three weeks before the start date, they gave in. Of course, it was too late to get Ed Stasian. He was booked well in advance, as was any of the producers that we would have liked to use. But guess what? As luck would have it, Their guy was available! What a stroke of luck! Right before we left to record the album, we headlined three nights at The Rat. On the last night Brian May and John Deacon of Queen came in. Queen was beginning their tour to promote the "Jazz" album, and was kicking it off at The Boston Garden the next night. They were both very friendly, and I remember Brian May counseling me on the recording process. He said, "If you don't like the way something sounds when you hear the play back, don't settle for it. Don't let anyone convince you that they can fix it in the mix. They can't.". I was soon to find out just how right he was. They invited us to their show at the Garden the next night, and we happily accepted. My other memory of Brian May was after their Garden show. I was backstage congratulating him on a really great show when he suddenly asked if he had sounded good. Well, he had sounded incredible, and I told him so. But then he asked again, and began going into specifics about his amps and sound. I kept reassuring him, but realized that it didn't matter if he was one of the best known guitarists in Rock. We all, large and small, always carry a certain amount of insecurity around with us. Once again, we went to New York and The Hit Factory. We had discovered that John Stronach had been the only white guy to work at Motown Records in the sixties as an engineer. That made us feel a little better. We met him at Full Tilt Boogie, which was a building that housed upscale rehearsal spaces. He wanted us to do our show for him to get a feel for the band. Of course, seeing a band at a rehearsal space is a pretty crappy way to be introduced to them. During a break, I wondered down the hall and started watching another band that was rehearsing in a really large room with a stage. I asked someone else standing there who it was, and they told me Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. They took a break and came off stage. I said hi and wondered back to our space. We began recording, and there were problems right away with John's idea of how we should sound as opposed to how we knew we should sound. Actually, I still didn't know squat about the recording process, and John was able to convince me at times that he was right. All it took was one listen to the final product to make me understand that he couldn't have been any more wrong. We would have been much better off producing it ourselves. I have always felt that one of the big issues with John was his cocaine usage. The first day in the recording studio, he took one of the large metal tape spools that are used with 2" tape and made a lazy susan with lines of cocaine. He would do a few lines every ten minutes or so, and we felt it was affecting the sessions in a negative way. We demanded that he not use while in the studio. He complied, but was not able to work for longer than five or six hours at a time. I actually got along well with John on a personal basis, and spent more than a few hours shooting pool with him in the Hit Factory billiard room. The album ended up taking six weeks to record and was my first introduction to record company employees. People would fly out from L.A. to hang out in the studio, and couldn't praise us enough. I got really excited when they said we were "the next big thing". I soon came to realize that these people live in the moment. They said the same things to every band that they came into contact with, and there was no sincerity in any of it. There was also an actress, a friend of John's from L.A. that was on the television show Welcome Back Kotter as the only female sweathog. She came into the studio two or three nights in a row, and was so obnoxious that we kept tossing her out until she finally went back to L.A. While we were finishing the record, we got to argue with ABC about the cover art. Our first idea, I believe that it came from B and Tom, was to be photographed at the Salt Lake Flats in Utah. It looks kind of like another planet, and we felt that it would be cool to be photographed with that as the backdrop. They came back with the idea of doing it as we suggested, but placing a huge ships anchor in the background. We asked why, and they replied, "Atlantics! Water! Get it?" We refused, and they suggested that we be photographed sitting in an antique convertible, which would be in the courtyard of a beautiful houseÉ..and the convertible would be filled with water! I'm not kidding! They were ready to buy an antique car and fill it with water for this stupid idea! When we asked why, they replied, "Atlantics! Water! Get it?" We began to notice a theme. But if we thought THAT was stupid, the party was just getting started! We came back with the idea of the cover shot being a theater where we were supposed to be performing. The shot would be taken from the side, so that you would see the marquee sticking out and straight down the sidewalk. Our name would be on the marquee, and a crowd is lined up, waiting for the box office to open. Down at the end of the line, almost too small to make out, would be the band standing with the people in line. They came back with The convertible, the courtyard, but no water in the car. Instead of the water, they would have a mermaid in the back seat with us. I know that this must sound like I'm making it up, but as God is my witness, it's all true! We said no, and after more haggling, they begrudgingly agreed to the theater shot, but changed it to a head on shot. I assume that was so the band standing in line would be clearly seen. Masters of subtlety, these ABC executives were. I remember that the head of the Art Department for ABC flew out for the shoot. At least, that's what I thought. He had hired a Penthouse staff photographer to shoot the cover, and one night, as I was getting on the elevator at The Hit Factory, two of the most beautiful women that I had ever seen were getting off. I asked if I could help them (as if), and they informed me that they were Penthouse Pets, here for their date with the photographer and the Art Director. Oh well. At least when ABC screwed them, they kissed them first. When we shot the cover, it was January and freezing. We got friends, family, Fred Munao, John Stronach, ABC and Hit Factory employees, and assorted other people for the crowd. We had a guy dressed as a cop holding back the crowd, and stood there for a few hours snapping pictures. Of course, only in New York, there were actually people that were walking down the street and got in line, not having any idea what it was for! Even though the process was an ordeal, The first time that I saw the completed album cover, I was mesmerized. We were playing at a suburban club, and Fred came in with the art work. It wasn't what we had wanted, and I hated the way that I looked on the back cover, but it was a major label album! At that moment, it seemed to me as though we had arrived. We hadn't. I also recall going on a photo shoot the next night for a picture inner sleeve that never materialized. We went out to second avenue at about 8:00pm. The temperature was in the single digits. The idea was that traffic would stop at the traffic light a block behind us. When it turned green, we would run into the street and be photographed with the oncoming headlights as a backdrop. We were to stand in front of one of the famous steaming manhole covers found all over the city, and the headlights shining through the steam would look other worldly. The problem, or one of the problems, was that this was New York, and these cars weren't stopping for anyone or anything! So we spent a few hours running into the street dressed in nothing but our stage clothes, conscious of the oncoming traffic bearing down on us with horns blaring, posing, getting off a few shots, then running like Hell for the curb! The flash was malfunctioning because of the severe cold, and while the photographer would try to get it working, we would run into a Laundromat owned by a Chinese couple and lay on the nice warm dryers. They thought that we were all crazy, but let us lay on the dryers anyway. We went back to Boston to await the release of the album and to talk about a potential tour. As the release date got closer, Fred Munao was pushing ABC to rent a restaurant for the record release party. They balked, saying instead that we should hold the release party at whatever show we were playing closest to when the album came out. They would, however, pay for festive balloons. It became obvious that ABC was going to release the album and let it sink by not promoting it at all. In the middle of Fred fighting with them came the news that ABC was selling their record division to MCA. Now, if you are an unknown artist, and are ever in the position of being on a record label that either changes it's top brass or is sold to another label, you can kiss your unreleased album good bye. The record industry is strange, in that major labels spend money recording and releasing product that they never intend to promote. It's usually by unknown artists, and short of it being a tax deduction, it seems like a waste of everyone's time. We figured that the album would be shelved (not released), especially after we heard that MCA was dropping almost everyone on the ABC Records roster, save Tom Petty and Steely Dan. The Roxy Music Tour But, much to our surprise, MCA called Fred out to L.A. for a meeting. They informed him that not only were they going to release the album, but they were willing to underwrite a tour, and throw us a huge record release party! Needless to say, our spirits picked up! We signed with Premier Talent, an international booking agency based in New York that handled The Who, and many other acts of that stature. We were offered a tour with Elvis Costello that we really wanted to do, but it was beginning a month before the release of the album. We wanted the tour to coincide with the release of the album, hoping that it would help motivate sales. The second tour that we were offered was with Roxy Music. The timing of the tour was right, and we felt that the pairing of The Atlantics and Roxy Music was a good one, so we accepted. For the record release party, MCA rented the entire Institute Of Contemporary Art, including the Heritage Restaurant. It was coupled with a date at The Paradise Theater, and the night was a blast! As you walked through the ICA, there were 3' x 4' color posters of The Atlantics set among the works of art. It was an open bar, plenty of great food, and Suzi Quatro made an appearance. We were to be traveling in a tour bus. It had two lounges, a tv, a vcr (these were not commonplace at that time), a built in stereo, a bathroom, a makeup table, and slept twelve. The first night of the tour was pretty heady. We were playing The Palladium in New York City, a 3000 seat venue much like The Orpheum in Boston. I recall walking out onto the stage at sound check that afternoon and being surprised at how small the theater looked when viewed from the stage. The stage, however, was enormous! We were used to club stages, where you mostly had to be concerned with bumping into each other! We set up after Roxy did a closed sound check, and my memory of the show was being surprised at how little of the audience you can actually see from the stage. You can make out the first fifteen rows or so, and everything else is black. We also set up far too close together. In a club, it would have been fine, but on this huge stage it looked as though we were huddled together. We had to quickly learn to spread out, and that ALL of the sound of the band that you hear comes from the monitor system in front of you, and the huge side fills, monitor speakers on each side of the stage. It was quite an adjustment from playing clubs, where you really felt linked to the other musicians. Before our show, Ray Boy came running in to tell me that he was standing outside and saw David Bowie being escorted up the fire escape on the side of the building! After Roxy had played, there was a big kickoff party in their dressing rooms. I was a little shy about going, as I still couldn't believe that we were there. It felt as though I would be crashing the party. But finally, gathering my courage, I went down and ended up getting to meet David Bowie and Roger Daltry of The Who. The ironic thing is that I didn't get to meet Roxy Music. It was just too crazy. The Atlantics were the opening act on the entire tour, save two dates. Philadelphia andÉÉ.Boston? That's right! Someone had decided that because we were from Boston, it would be better to have another opening act there. Great minds at work, eh? We were disappointed, and were told that Rockabilly singer Robert Gordon would be doing those openings. We later found out that Robert Gordon had wanted to open on the tour, and later we were to find out just how angry he was about not having gotten it. If my memory serves me correctly, Boston was the second date of the tour, so we went up to Albany, New York to headline a concert club called The Hullabaloo Club. We arrived the night before we were to perform, and the owner had us come in to be "celebrity" bar tenders. The idea was that we would give away beer for an hour to promote the next nights show. It was a lot of fun because David Johanson was headlining that night. We knew David casually from the New York scene, and were later to open for him, as well as share a manager. The night went well, my one really clear memory being that one of the club owners asked me to accompany her upstairs to the living quarters. The club was owned by a couple that lived above the club in a huge, loft type area. I followed her up the stairs, not really knowing what to expect. When she reached the top of the stairway, she turned to face me. I was about hip level to the floor on the stairway, and there were no railings on the upstairs level. She smiled and said, "Look to your left" I turned my head, and was face to face with a leopard! That's right, a full grown leopard! I loved it! Her name was Tanya, and the club owners had raised her since she was three day old. She was five years old at that time, was as docile as leopards ever become, and was declawed in her front paws. I spent as much time as possible with Tanya while we were there, and had one eye opening experience. Tanya would lie on a big steamer trunk. I don't know why, I guess that she pretty much could lie wherever she damn well wanted! I was petting her one day while she lay on the trunk. Now when you scratch a leopard behind the ears, it's pretty much the same as petting a house cat, except that you have to really dig your nails in and do it a lot harder. And Leopards can't purr. I don't know why they can't purr, but she never did. I was scratching behind her ears, and she was digging it. She closed her eyes and rolled over, wanting me to scratch her belly, which I did. Now she was really into it, and all of a sudden took my right hand in her paws and put itÉ.in her mouth?!! And started to chew on it?!! I yanked my hand free of the big cat's mouth and quickly backed into the wall behind me. Tanya sort of half opened her eyes, and from her upside down perspective, studied me. I couldn't get past Tanya from where I was standing, so I called to the owners as casually as I could. They came, I described what had happened, and they laughed. It seems that Tanya did that all the time when being petted, harmlessly gnawing on the petter's hand as a show of affection. I still petted Tanya, but never really got confortable with having my hand gnawed, although she never did break the skin. While we were in Albany, MCA set up an in store appearance for us. We were to go, with much fanfare, to a local record store to meet our adoring fans and sign copies of our album. Now, I don't know if you've seen the movie This Is Spinal Tap, but they could have written the scene in the record store from this. We arrived, paraded into the store to be greeted byÉÉa few employees and the local MCA representative. They stood us by a display that had been created for the occasion, and there we stood. Alone but for each other's company. There were a few people shopping in the store, but they weren't even curious enough to come over and check it out. All that was missing was for the MCA rep to brace himself against the record bins, stick his butt out and say, "Kick this ass! No, I mean it! I won't be happy unless you kick me right in the ass!!". It would have been really tempting. We knew that there had been problems getting the album into stores - there had been a truckers strike among other things -but this was the first real indication we had that our album was going nowhere. It was a hard pill to swallow. So on we went. The tour progressed, and the Roxy Music fans were receiving us well. Finally, on the fourth or fifth date, we played the 20,000 seat Richfield Coliseum in Cleveland, and got to meet Roxy for the first time. There was a rodeo coming in the day after us, and all of the livestock had already arrived. They were being stored on the uppermost level of the arena, and the doors were wide open at sound check to allow air flow in, and an incredible odor out! The bulls weren't wild about rock and roll, and made a Hell of a racket whenever music was played. The show went well, other than us still trying to adapt to the now even larger stage. After the show, there was a party for Roxy. Fred Munao took us in, lined us up, and introduced us to the band. I felt like I was on a third grade field trip. After the introductions, we mingled and noshed for a while. Now, back in the Bonjour Aviators, I had lifted a Bryan Ferry song called "Editions Of You" to write "The Fury In Your Eyes", the A side of the 45 that we had put out. I had always dreamed of giving a copy of the record to Bryan Ferry. Who knows why, but I did. I had brought a copy of the 45, and had it with me. After a while, I spotted Bryan standing in a corner alone. I went over and chatted with him for a while about the tour and my being a fan since Virginia Plain, the first Roxy Music album. Then I sheepishly produced the 45 and explained how, even though I had lifted "Editions Of You", I hoped that he would accept the record. He took it and said, "I'm very flattered that I could inspire someone to write a song." I was to realize later what a true gentleman Bryan Ferry is. It would have been very easy in that situation to have made me feel foolish, but he instead chose to be gracious. After that, Bryan and I became friendly, chatting throughout the tour. He didn't socialize much, though. Jerri Hall, the Texas model that had appeared on the Sirens album cover, had just left him for Mick Jagger. It had really affected him. Twenty years later, Hall is going through a messy divorce with Jagger, And Bryan Ferry is happily married with four children. In fact, all of Roxy Music was pleasant. I became pretty friendly with Phil Manzanara and Andy MacKay also, and it made the tour a lot better for me. Every time that I would hang out on stage with them, usually talking shop, I had to pinch myself. These were artists that I had idolized for years, and now I was playing on the same bill! The one piece of equipment that Roxy had that made me chuckle was their drummers snare drum. He used a marching band snare drum, which was about 24" deep. I've never seen it used before or since in a rock format. As the tour moved on into the mid west, things changed a little. Roxy wasn't as popular there, and the venues had been downsized from concert halls to concert clubs. The first one was in St. Louis, a club called Mississippi Nights, which was on the banks of the mighty Mississippi River. Roxy were in a complete panic! The club held about 500 people, and they would have to use the clubs sound and lights. In talking to Bryan, I discovered that the band had never played a club before, only concert halls. Add to that the fact that Roxy had been touring with a very elaborate light show, designed by Rainbow Lighting of London, and a Turbo Sound PA system, and nerves were raw to say the least! Sound check lasted a very long time, and no one in Roxy was happy with the monitors. We, however, were in our element! We went on stage and played the best that we had up to that point on the tour! After our set, I went out the back door of the club with Ray Boy and Tom and sat on a retaining wall facing the Mississippi River. The river was rising that night, and came up about ten feet during the course of the evening. It was magnificent to watch, very powerful and much bigger than I had ever imagined. The one thing about touring that I loved was getting to see the United States. I generally slept at night when we traveled and would go sight seeing during the day. There are so many places that I had seen on television or in the movies, but to have actually been there and experienced them was more moving than I had ever imagined. Earlier that day, I had been out with Billy McCarthy, our Road Manager, Peter, who mixed our sound, and Jeff, our Light Designer. Off in the distance we saw the famous 650' arch on the banks of the Mississippi River. I wondered what it was, and Billy told me that it was where McDonalds Headquarters was located. He actually had me going, until we got a little closer and I saw how big it really was. The two or three shows that we did in clubs were really something. Even though they were uncomfortable in the clubs at first, by the third show Roxy was really getting into it! They really rocked, and Bryan was more open and friendly with the audience than I had ever seen him. I really feel lucky to have seen them in that setting. The tour bus could be a very interesting place to be. We all spent long hours traveling from city to city together, and developed a system of staying out of each other's way so that nerves didn't get frazzled. Our tour bus driver was a guy by the name of Earl. Earl was about 50 years old, looked like a paunchy extra from the movie "Rebel Without A Cause", and had kind of a Gomer Pyle vocal tone and southern inflection to his voice. He was a former cross country trucker, and knew every highway and back road from Maine to California. Earl and I really got along well, and after many a show, I would ride with him in the front of the bus as we traveled through the night to the next city. As you boarded the bus, there was a wall right behind the driver with a door in the middle. If the door was closed, it shut the driver off from the rest of the bus. A section of floor could be lowered over the stairway, and there was a passenger seat opposite the driver's seat. The windshield extended from the roof to your feet when sitting, providing a panoramic view. At one point, I think we were in Texas, we crossed a bridge in the middle of the night. Down to our left there was an oil refinery. It was lit as bright as day, with stacks going up 100' or so. The stacks were to burn off the excess crude, and each had a ball of flame shooting out of the top of it. It was other worldly, and just one of many memorable sights that we encountered in the middle of the night while driving. One night, at about midnight, we were on a two lane blacktop in Georgia, and Earl was really being quiet. Finally, I asked if he was lost. It was almost painful for him to admit, but lost we were. And to complicate matters, we were almost out of gas! Earl didn't want to alarm the others, so we sat up there sweating it until, out of the blue, Earl saw a road sign and got his bearings. We were in desperate need of fuel, and he remembered a tiny diner/truck stop nearby. When we got to it, he turned up a muddy dirt road for about 1Ú2 a mile, until we came to a little shack of a diner with two pumps in front. Faces came to the window as we pulled in, and it began to remind me far too much of the movie "Deliverance" Ray Boy, Tom, and B decided to go in and get food. I sat that one out. As it turned out, the people were curious but cordial towards them. We gassed up and said good bye. We usually only stopped at Union 76 truck stops. Earl told us that this was because they were really big, and any truckers that decided they didn't like the way that we looked were less likely to act on it. We would still get a lot of disgusted stares and an occasional call of "faggots!", but never had any trouble beyond that. Another time, somewhere in the South, Earl and Billy McCarthy got into it. Earl had nicknamed all of our roadies, and Billy, being 6' 2" and blonde, was dubbed Big Bird. Billy hated the nickname, but of course the more he complained, the more Earl would delight in calling him it. It was a friendly type of friction between Billy and Earl, kind of like a middle school push you/push me thing. It came to a head early one evening, when Billy was up front, kneeling beside Earl as he drove. They were going at each other verbally, mostly challenging each other to wrestle and that type of thing, locker room kind of stuff. All of a sudden, Earl grabbed Billy in a headlock. Billy started to struggle, and Earl was all over the road. He turned sharply to the right, and the bus came to a halt on a grassy area. Earl opened the door, and they both tumbled out onto the ground. They must have wrestled for five minutes or so, with us cheering them on, before Fred Munao had the presence of mind to take a look around. We had stopped on the large front lawn area of a country club. We were a little way from the main building, and there was what looked like a prom happening. Teenagers in formal wear were looking on in amazement as the wrestling match progressed. Fred stopped Earl as he held Billy upside down, banging his head on the lawn. We all piled back into the bus and took off before the cops came. There were no hard feelings between Billy and Earl, but Billy defiantly wanted a rematch. When we crossed the Rocky Mountains into Northern California, Earl drove for 21 straight hours. When he would get really tired, he would pull to the side of the road and take a twenty minute nap by putting his head down on the steering wheel. Well, this time he had pushed it a little too far. It was about 5:30am on a highway leading to San Francisco, and we were awakened by the sound of a helicopter and a voice speaking through a megaphone. The voice was telling us to come out of the bus slowly, with our hands above our heads. Earl had stopped to take a nap. The only problem was, he was so tired that he didn't pull over, he just stopped in the middle of the highway without realizing it! A State Trooper had driven up beside the bus, which was running, and observed Earl slumped over the steering wheel. Fearing the worst, he had called out everything but the Army! We were surrounded by Police and Swat Teams, guns drawn! Earl woke up, pulled over, and the State Police proceeded to give him a stack of tickets about an inch thick. Earl was not a happy man. I, however, was. I had slept through the entire scene! When I woke up that morning, it was all everyone (except Earl) was talking about! When we were getting ready to leave on the tour, Fred Munao, with the best of intentions, hired a nutritionist. He gave us organic vitamins to take that were supposed to keep us healthy during the tour. I took them for three days or so and started feeling really lousy. After that, when Billy would give them to us each morning, I would go into the bathroom and flush them. About a week out, we were playing in Baltimore, Maryland, and B took ill. He was really sick, pasty white, sweating, and throwing up constantly. He could barely stand. We had to go on, as it was considered very bad form for the opener to cancel. After much discussion, we set B up behind the drum riser, the curtain blocking him from view. We gave him a monitor, a set list, and a bucket to throw up in. The band went on and we played our show. It was really weird not having B there, as he was a big part of the visual show. We got through it, though, and he had recovered enough by the next date to perform. Years later, while opening for Squeeze in New York, a guy approached me and announced that he had been in the audience for the Baltimore show. I asked if he noticed anything different about the band, and he didn't. It just goes to show how little people really notice about an opening act. Oh, and we immediately tossed the vitamins! An ongoing problem that we had was that no restaurant seemed to want us within 50 feet of the building. In St. Louis, Ray Boy and I went to dinner at the hotel restaurant. It was a pretty decent place, and we were a real New Wave/Punk looking band. They kept us waiting for a while, and when they finally seated us, were not giving us the best service. The idea was that we would get impatient and leave. Then Tom came in and joined us, and I thought the Host was going to have a heart attack! They finally realized that we weren't going to leave, so they decided to serve us as quickly as possible and get us out. We all ordered exactly the same thing, and the meals virtually flew out and in front of us! We, of course, decided to torture them a little longer and ordered desert. As fate would have it, we all ordered exactly the same desert as well. When the check came - actually, they kept giving us the check, and we kept ordering more food - they had only billed us for one meal and one desert! In their haste to get us out, they had screwed up because all of the orders were the same. We paid the check that they had given us and split. Another time, we were coming into Salt Lake City, Utah, not an area of the country known for it's tolerance. It was 7:00am, and we decided to stop for breakfast. We went into a chain restaurant called The Golden Skillet. It was empty, and the staff did not look happy to see us. We sat at three separate tables, and after a while, a waitress finally took our orders. It is important to note that we were at no time impolite or rude to anyone. They just hated us on general principal. She took our orders at different times, guaranteeing that each table would be eating at a different time, and was coarse and rude to everyone. Other people had started coming in, and they were served, ate, and left, before we even saw our food. Finally, we noticed our orders coming up under the warming lamps for the waitress to pick up. But she wasn't picking them up. Back and forth to the warming lamps she went, taking other people their orders and leaving ours there. She was busting a gut ignoring us, so we couldn't get her attention. B finally had had it, went up to the warming lamps, and grabbed a few of our plates. That got a reaction! The waitress was there in a flash, in his face and screaming for him to sit down. B went nose to nose with her, and finally took his order back to his table, followed by the waitress with the rest of our orders. I remember her yelling at us to be patient. After all, did we think she was standing around with her fingers up her ass? I would have loved to see her get away with talking like that to a regular customer. She literally threw the plates onto the tables. Then Ray Boy discovered that the oatmeal that he ordered was barely cooked. That was it. We grabbed the check and demanded to speak to the manager. Fred Munao led the barrage of complaints being issued, and demanded that the waitress stand there while we issued them. The manager was polite but strained, and deducted some of the charges from the bill. But it was very clear that he just didn't care. Once in San Francisco, we played at the Oakland Auditorium. The show was being promoted by the legendary Bill Graham, and he made an appearance. We spoke with him for a few minutes, and I remember him as being tall and not in a great mood. The reason that he wasn't in a great mood was that he had put a local band that he was involved with in some way on the bill as the opening act. Premier Talent insisted that we open, as we were doing the tour, and won the point. However, Graham decided that we would play first and the local band would go on right before Roxy. Fred Munao argued the point with him to no avail, and on first we went. KSAN radio recorded the performance, and "When You're Young" from that show later became the flip side of a 12" single, a remixed "One Last Night" being the A side. Right down in front was a large contingent of the local band's fans. They had apparently taken great offense that we had the nerve to play at all, and booed throughout our performance. If you listen closely to the live recording, at the end you can just barely hear them booing. Fortunately, they are being drowned out by the cheers from the other 99.9% of the crowd. We then went down to Hollywood and checked in at the Hyatt House on Sunset Boulevard. All of the rock and roll bands that came to town stayed there, and it was affectionately known as the Riot House. I really loved Hollywood. It was just as I had always imagined it! 20' high palm trees lined the streets, and the people were incredibly friendly. The first time that I went for a walk, someone passing me said, "Good Morning! Beautiful day, isn't it?" I immediately started looking for a clip board, figuring that this had to be some religious freak. But that's just how people were! It didn't take long for me to get into the rhythm, and before I knew it, I was greeting total strangers as I passed them! One day as I walked down Sunset, I ran into one of the roadies for Roxy. He was the only American on their crew, from New York City. He was wearing a brown leather bombers jacket with a wool collar, really too warm for the beautiful weather. So we walked down the street together, chatting away. Now, at that time in Hollywood, traffic laws were strictly enforced. If you stepped out into the street, all cars stopped. If the traffic light turned yellow, all cars stopped. As we walked, a police car pulled over, and the officer asked us to approach the car. We did, and all of a sudden the officer riding in the passenger seat stepped out and pointed his gun across the roof of the car at us! The other officer had also produced his gun, and I remember the word "freeze" being uttered! We made like statues. They spread eagled us on the side of the car, just like in Dragnet, and frisked us. Not finding any weapons, and having checked out our ID after screaming questions in our face for a few minutes, they finally put the guns away. I finally asked why we had been stopped, and I was informed that we had been spotted jay walking. I informed the officer that while things may be different on the East Coast, we didn't generally have guns pulled on us for walking on red! He replied that there had been an officer killed two days before when a suspect had shot the officer through his coat pocket. They had not caught the killer, and when he had asked us to step over to the car, the guy that I was with put his hand into his pockets. So we said o.k., we understand. We probably would have done the same thing. No hard feelings, officer, have a nice day! And he said, wait a minute, I still have to ticket you for jay walking! So we came to an agreement. He wouldn't ticket us OR pull a gun, and we would only walk on the green. And seeing as how they obviously don't screw around out there, we did! We played in Glendale, then moved along to San Diego State for the last show of the tour. The Roxy road crew informed us that in Europe, the last show of the tour was traditionally when the headliner's crew played practical jokes on the opening act. They shared with us some of the things that they had done in the past. On one tour, they sprinkled the drummers white drum heads with baby powder, and by the end of the first song, he and everything around him was covered in white powder! Another time, they were in an old theater that had a flying harness set up. They hooked up a roadie to it, and mid way through the set, he came soaring down from the catwalk above. He scooped up the band's lead singer, who never saw him coming, flew him up to the catwalk on the other side of the stage, pushed off and plunked him back down in the spot that he was originally standing. The crowd went nuts, figuring that it was part of the show. The singer finished the set shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. Needless to say, we were concerned. They took pity on us though (for a few bottles of good booze). The tour was for the Manifesto album, and the album cover had a crowd of mannequins that were dressed as party goers. Roxy had an anatomically correct female mannequin with them dressed in party clothes that they never used for anything. The road crew placed it side stage during the show. Every time we would look over, it had less clothes on. Finally, it was totally naked. Yeah, I know, it was only a mannequin. But you would be surprised how distracting it was! I especially liked it when one of the roadies had simulated sex with it. Who needs HBO? I spent a little time with Roxy before they went on, and gentlemen to the end, they thanked us for doing a great job on the tour! I took some photographs, as I realized that having become friendly with them, I had completely forgotten to do so. They were heading to Japan, and I remember Andy MacKay sharing stories of the road from their prior tours of Japan. Andy had a great sense of humor. This was in evidence when we played The Rainbow Theater in Denver, where the dressing rooms were in the rear of the club. Neither band wanted to walk through the crowd to get to the stage, so we used our tour bus as a dressing room, and Roxy rented a big RV. The only problem was that the RV didn't have a bathroom! So Paul Thompson, Roxy's drummer, asked if he could use ours. Bobby Marron jokingly said sure, but make sure you leave a dime for using it. Ten minutes later Andy came walking up the bus stairs, and without so much as a word or a glance, tossed a dime on the table and walked to the bathroom. We broke up, and by show time there were a pile of dimes on the bus lounge table! The San Diego show was over all too soon. We said our final farewells and headed back to Hollywood. The Long Road Home The plan was to tour back across the country headlining concert clubs, beginning with the legendary Starwood in Hollywood. The Starwood was sort of seedy, the kind of place where they mostly sold the house beer. In other words, it was perfect for rock and roll! It was pretty big, having two levels. The second level was a balcony type setup from which you could clearly view the stage. The night before we were to play there, we went to check it out. Quiet Riot was playing that night, with Randy Rhodes on guitar. I've never been a big fan of Quiet Riot or Ozzy Osborne, but Randy Rhodes was a great guitarist and showman! The next night, we played to a pretty good crowd. We had been getting a little exposure, and some of the big "scene" people had come to the show. After the show, MCA threw us a party in a small function room at the Starwood. MCA kept telling us that they had a big surprise for us, and of course we hoped that it was news that the album was finally beginning to get some national air play. When the big moment came, they had a photographer from Billboard magazine there, poised to capture the moment forever. We were lined up with a few of the MCA brass, and theyÉÉgave us a sealed jar of Atlantic ocean water! That's right! They had contracted ABC syndrome! That was the big surprise! Atlantics! Water! Get it? They had an MCA rep in Florida scoop up some sand and ocean water and FedEx it to them for us. Boy, were we happy! After we looked only puzzled, then disappointed at this, the MCA reps pouted for the rest of the night. As a matter of fact, they had to reshoot the photo, and pose us with looks of great surprise. I met Rodney Binginhimer, the legendary L.A. disc jockey. He was a nice guy, and we talked in length about British Invasion bands of the sixties. I also met a teenage boy who claimed to be the son of Dennis Wilson, the drummer for The Beach Boys. I asked how old he was, and he replied 15. When I asked how he managed to get into a bar at 2:00am, he just laughed. It was L.A., and anything was possible. I asked Rodney later if he was indeed Dennis Wilson's son, and he confirmed it. We began the long trip back across the country by driving from Hollywood to Dallas, Texas for the next show. After driving for nearly a whole day, we stopped in El Paso so that Earl could get some sleep. As the old joke goes, we spent a week in El Paso one day. To call it a sleepy border town is much too kind. It was as hot as Hell, and people were walking around like they were comatose! This appealed to Billy, who had been working on the worlds perfect tan, but he was the only one! Shortly before we left, the boredom of the situation got to a few of us. Ray Boy, Billy, I believe Tom, and myself, were in one of the rooms at the Holiday Inn-like hotel, and decided that the room had to go. The headboards were attached to the wall, but off they came! The mattresses went into the shower, and a lot of other assorted redesigning of the room took place. We left El Paso, fully expecting to be caught by the hotel, but never were. Sleepy little town. We pulled into Dallas to open for Head East, a very popular band in the west at that time. They were on A&M Records, and had scored a hit with the song "Since You've Been Gone". The one memory that really stands out was our in store appearance. That's right! They hadn't learned their lesson in Albany, so another in store appearance had been set up for Dallas! We arrived at the shopping mall that housed the record store, and it was lots of pick up trucks with shot gun racks, cowboy hats and boots, and 0 tolerance! We were in our stage clothes, and the ground from the car to the store was covered in record time, accompanied by calls of "faggot" and assorted suggestions that made us feel all warm and toasty. Once in the store, it turned out the employees actually knew who we were and had set up a great display for the occasion. Not many people showed up at this one either, and even though the record store employees made us feel welcome, we dreaded the long walk back to the car. After that, we figured the crowd at the show would throw things at us. Or shoot us. But they really liked the band, and we got an encore! Go figure. The next stop was New Orleans. We spent two or three days in New Orleans, and most of the city seemed to be poverty stricken. Fred Munao and I were standing outside the hotel waiting for a cab one day, when an old car pulled to the curb. Inside was a man with four small children. He said that they had no money to feed the kids, and asked us to give him some. I thought it was strange that he could afford to run a car and not feed his kids, but we gave him a few dollars anyway. We were told to watch out, as the crime rate was high there. I was, however, struck but the incredible beauty of the French Quarter, and that is where I spent all of my free time. I had never heard live Dixieland music before, and I became an instant fan. It was so hot that the outside walls of the restaurants and bars were removable, and made the flavor of drinking and dining there all the more unique. In the park that dominated the center of the French Quarter, Dixieland bands played while artists set up to paint and sell their works. Up a flight of stone steps across from the park was the Mississippi River, and steamboats were there for excursions, including a steamboat made completely of metal! The food was great, and the people were friendly. From a tourists standpoint, the French Quarter is a great place to be. The show we played was at a club located on the outskirts of the city. We were traveling down a two lane blacktop with swamp all around us, looking for somewhere to have dinner before the show, when we came across a Pizza Hut literally in the middle of nowhere. We stopped and went in. Our waitress was a girl that looked about 16. She had very few teeth, and spoke a language the must have been some sort of Creole. Whatever it was, none of us could understand a word that she said. We ordered a mixture of pizza and pasta dishes, and it was without a doubt the worst Italian food that I have ever had! We complained, but it was to no avail. The show went well. The opening act was a local guitarist that had a pseudo Jimi Hendrix thing happening. Later, I would see a photo of him in People magazine when he played guitar for The Jacksons on their Victory tour. Then it was on to Atlanta, Georgia. Atlanta was a real breath of fresh air. The underground music scene was alive and growing there, and when we pulled into the hotel, there were fans waiting in the lobby for us! Only a few, but it's the principle of the thing! For me, everything once again took on the trappings of Spinal Tap. One of the fans was a guy who honestly believed that we were The Beatles. The rest of the band slept during the day, and I slept at night. That meant that I got to do a lot of sightseeing, but only when we were in staying a central location. The hotel in Atlanta was on the outskirts of the city, so I was stuck there. I asked this guy if there was public transportation into Atlanta, and he offered to drive me into the city to see the sights. It sounded like a plan, so off we went. It only took about ten minutes for me to realize that this guy was so blown away that I was hanging out with him, very little actual sightseeing was going to get done. He kept exclaiming, "I can't believe that Fred Pineau of The Atlantics is in MY CAR!!!" When we stopped at McDonalds for lunch, he looked at the girl behind the counter and said, "Do you have any idea who this is?! This is Fred Pineau of The Atlantics!!!" The girl smiled and looked very puzzled. It was one of those moments that are built on good intentions, but I just wanted to disappear. There wasn't a huge turnout for the show that night, but the people that were there went berserk! We had a great time and played five encores. When we arrived in Cincinnati, Ohio, Tom's home town, it was to open for Robert Gordon at a club called Bogart's. At sound check, Robert Gordon was not in a great mood. I tried to speak with him, but he was curt. That carried over to his sound check, when he kept reaming out his sound man for not achieving the magical monitor mix that he wanted. We were told that he was still harboring ill will over not having gotten the Roxy Music tour. Of course, his new album on RCA Records was not doing well, so I'm sure that added fuel to the fire. The crowd was fantastic, and we got a few encores! Mr. Gordon sent word to Premier Talent that we were never to open another show for him. The nicest part of that stop was dinner at Tom's parent's house. His parents were very cordial, and I was very impressed with his Father's antique car collection. And it was so good to have a home cooked meal again! The last stop of the tour was to have been in New York City at a club called Mothers, but we were called by Premier Talent and told to go to C.W. Post College in New Jersey to open for David Johanson. We did, and were then contacted by Premier to travel to North Carolina. We were to open an outdoor festival being held in a baseball stadium that featured Boston, The Atlanta Rhythm Section, and Poco. At that point, we had given up the tour bus and were traveling in station wagons. We drove 13 hours, and arrived to the news that we had to immediatly go on stage! On we went, and the show actually went really well. It was a beautiful day, and the audience was really receptive. After the show, we hung out backstage, hobnobbed, and ate. It was just nice to get the Hell out of the station wagons! Then Premier called, and wanted us to drive to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin to open two outdoor shows for Heart. It would be 50,000 people each night. We were exhausted, and couldn't face the prospect of traveling that far in a station wagon together, so we said no. In retrospect, we should have sucked it up and done the shows. Premier was giving us better and better shots, and I think that they really believed in the band. When we turned the shows down, it was the end of those opportunities from Premier. It was bad judgment on our part that would unfortunately repeat itself a few more times. We went home to Boston to recover from the tour, our failed album, and contemplate what the future would hold. Cheap Trick At some point while we still were out on the road, Premier booked us into part of a Cheap Trick tour. Having had such a positive experience on the Roxy Music tour, we were naturally excited. But things went wrong almost as soon as we arrived. At sound check, we were told that our Peter, our sound man, couldn't touch the board unless the Cheap Trick sound man was present. Ditto for the lights. Fair enough, but right after the Cheap Trick sound check, all of their people disappeared! Cheap Trick didn't do their own sound checks, their roadies did the check for them. This meant that the check could go as casually as the roadies chose to make it go. It was presented to us, unofficially of course, that it would do well for us to give the Cheap Trick road crew a "gift" of cocaine as a show of respect. That was unfortunately something that we ran into from time to time as we opened more concerts. We wouldn't go for it. As a result, we had to go on in front of 5000 people and use our first song as the sound check! Somehow, it really went well. The crowd was really receptive, and were going nuts by the end of our show. We finished the last song, having left enough of the time that we were allowed for an encore. We HAD the encore in the bag, but before I even reached my amp to flip the standby switch, the Cheap Trick crew had brought up the house lights and had begun playing music over the PA. Needless to say, our encore was killed. Fred Munao was really pissed. He demanded a meeting with Cheap Trick's management and was assured the next date would be different. Later, when the band came in, I chatted with Rick Neilson and Bun E. Carlos. They were nice enough, and seemed appalled at the treatment that we had received. The next night, it happened again! Everything from the nonexistent sound check to the nonexistent encore was the same! Again, Fred talked to their management. Again he was assured that it wouldn't happen the next show, again Cheap Trick was friendly. Rick Neilson asked me how the show went. When I told him that it had happened again, he became so angry that his face became flushed and he went to find his manager. Third show, same deal! At this point, believe it or not, Cheap Trick asked us to continue on the tour with them! We said no, feeling that nothing their management said could be trusted. I could be wrong, but it seemed to me that Cheap Trick had no real control over what was happening at any time. Their management and road crew seemed to do pretty much whatever they wanted without any visible fear of being rebuked by the band. We later read in an interview with Ian Hunter that he had left a tour with Cheap Trick for the same reasons. Home Again It was good to be home. We decided that we needed to work on our sound, as music was changing. The arrival of Blondie with "Heart Of Glass" meant that dace grooves were suddenly acceptable in New Wave/Alternative music. We began work on a series of new songs that kept us rooted in the music that had always inspired us, but streamlined the sound. Tom decided to revive an old song that he had written. The band had done it in the early days, before I had come on board, but had dropped it from the play list. He had gotten the song title from a T.V. Guide listing of movies being shown on television. It was Lonelyhearts. We worked harder on that song than any other that I can recall. At one point, we had three different chorus sections that we were trying to decide between. One thing that was decided from the start was that the song would have a "straight" or "Disco style" bass drum pattern. It was a change for us, but the song rocked, and it in no way meant that we were becoming a Disco band. Ray Boy, however, had some real issues with it. He felt that playing the bass drum pattern that way was a concession to Disco music, and didn't want to do it. Most times when there was a disagreement about the arrangement of a song, the majority ruled. But this time, even though everyone else felt that the bass drum pattern added to the song, Ray felt that he would be betraying his love of rock and roll if he were to give in on the issue. It finally got to the point where we were insisting that he play it, and he was refusing. It finally led to his quitting the band. That was in May 1979, I believe. About a month after we got back from the tour. In all fairness, Ray had been going through a lot of personal problems at the time, and I think he later regretted leaving the band. Now we had to find a new drummer. We didn't want to go the route of placing ads in The Boston Phoenix, so we just put the word out on the street and through contacts that we had. We ended up auditioning about 25 drummers in three weeks. We owned a new set of Sonor drums that MCA had just purchased for the band, so we were able to have the auditioning drummers just bring cymbals and a drum stool. It made the process a lot easier and faster. The drummers were instructed to learn three songs from the album, and not to use the tom toms. We were looking first and foremost for a drummer that could keep solid time. I was shocked at how many drummers couldn't keep away from the tom toms. Even if after the first song we asked again, halfway through the second song, there were the toms again! We also discovered that a lot of the drummers had terrible timing. At one point, we thought that we had our guy. He was good looking, could kick ass on drums, and had no discernible attitude problems! We spent about two hours jamming with him, and were already talking to him about joining! He was floating on air. The Atlantics were a major band in the area, had serious tour experience, and were under contract to MCA Records. Then, offhandedly, we mentioned that he would have to adopt our image. Everything came to a screeching halt. We had a punk/alternative look, and he had a Queen-type hair band look. He said, "Well, I guess that I could cut my hair a little, but not much!" The issue of stage clothes then was broached. He said that he had invested a lot of money in stage clothes that looked great, and wanted to wear them. What did they look like, we queried? "You know, satin shorts with wild colored suspenders. That kind of thing." We told him that there was no quarter to be given on the point. If he wanted in, he had to change his image. We told him to go home and think about it overnight, then call us the next day with his decision. We never heard from him again. We had auditioned one drummer that was really good, but we didn't really connect with him as a person. He seemed to really be out for himself and not interested in the whole band thing. But he was the only guy left that we thought could do the job well, so we invited him over for a third time, and told him that he probably had the gig. Then, a local drummer by the name of Paul Caruso called Fred in New York. Paul had played for Sass, a popular Boston band, and was looking for a new situation. We didn't think it would lead to anything, but agreed to audition him right before the other guys third session. We had even lost Paul's name, and were jokingly referring to him as "Drummer X". We arrived at the rehearsal space, and Paul was waiting. I think it only took four bars into the first song to know that he was the new drummer! He was a perfect fit. Good image, nice guy, and a great drummer. The other guy was more that a little disappointed, but it was the right choice. The New Line Up We began an intense rehearsal schedule. We would play the old material for part of the night, then work on the new songs. We sounded better than ever! We spent the next several weeks working on the show, then booked our first Boston show in four months at The Paradise Theater. I remember how excited we were to be back. The show wasn't a sell out, but we chalked that up to college being out for the summer. We began to play the circuit of concert clubs in New England, and we never sounded better! At some point in the middle of all this, MCA dropped us from their roster. It was disappointing, but we knew that we had some great songs waiting in the wings, and were confident that we could score another deal. Then The Knack hit with "My Sharona". All of a sudden MCA was back on the phone, wanting to re-sign the band. They apparently thought that we could be THEIR Knack! So we went to New York to meet with the East coast president of MCA. We toured through the MCA offices, and everyone was exceptionally nice. I had now learned to take that with a grain of salt. We finally went behind closed doors for the meeting. The President of the East coast operations for MCA was a truly nice guy and he had a plan all laid out for us. He told us that there was a song that was currently #1 all over the world, but hadn't been released in the United States as of yet. It was scheduled to be released in four weeks by another label. He played for us, and presented the idea that we immediatly record the song. MCA would have it out in two weeks with a lot of promotion behind it, to be followed by a new album that would to be recorded within a few weeks of the single. He was confident that MCA could promote the song into the top 20, and possibly the top 10. I felt that it wasn't such a bad idea. The song definitely wasn't one that I would choose to cover, but if it got our foot in the door, what the Hell. The rest of the band was adamant that we wouldn't do it. The position being that we had so much strong original material, MCA could easily promote that into the top 10. And they were right, except that very few major labels dump any real promotion money into unknown acts. The song was "Pop Music", by a German disc jockey that called himself M. The song quite honestly grates on my nerves. But if we could have cracked the top 20 with it, I believe that "Lonelyhearts" could have gone top 5, or even #1 as the second single released from the album. Anyway, we passed on the idea, "Pop Music" went to #1, and MCA once again lost interest in the band. Lonelyhearts We decided to forge ahead and produce our own 45. It would be "Can't Wait Forever" b/w "Lonelyhearts". There would be no A side. We would leave it up to the radio stations to choose. We went to the Hit Factory once again and spent a few days recording with Fred co-producing. The recording went pretty well, but I remember having a problem with the guitar solo for Lonelyhearts. The solo that I had been playing wasn't working, and I stood out in the studio and playing and rewriting that solo for about two hours before we were finally happy with it. Then, in playback, Paul discovered that the bass drum was erratic in places. He then did something on live drums that I have never seen before or since. He overdubbed the bass drum. It came out perfectly. We decided to do a cardboard sleeve, so that it would be like a miniature album cover. The graphic design was done by M and Co., who had just done the latest Talking Heads album cover. We had the longest photo session that I've ever done. They photographed us individually and in a group, ultra close up and from a distance. The photographer's studio was down near the docks in New York. When we finally left at about 4:00am, I remember driving by a few gay biker bars. In front of one called The Headhunter (the name of the club was spelled out in painted bones), there were fifty or so Harleys, really beautiful bikes. Lots of people were on the street outside of the bar dressed in leather, and two "He/Shes". These are men who have had breast implants and hormone treatments, but have kept all of the other parts that are male. The two were walking down the street with their shirts wide open, revealing their breasts, challenging two guys who had apparently given them a hard time about what they were. It was the Fellini movie effect again! The record sleeve came out great, much better than the "Big City Rock" album cover. The front cover was on a yellow background, and featured dozens of tiny individual shots of the band members in black and white. We were lined up in rows across the sleeve. One row of band members, the next row the band name, the next row the band, etc.. The rear of the sleeve was ultra close ups of our faces in black and white, with only half of each face showing. We pressed 3000 copies, with the idea that, if it were a local hit, we would sell these while negotiating a good record deal with another major label. Meanwhile, back on the live show front, there were problems. The crowds were getting thinner and thinner. Nationally, our album had been a failure. We had been away for a while, and people were now going to see new bands that had become successful in our absence. It got worse, and finally Fred called a meeting and flew up from New York. He informed us that clubs would no longer book us as a headliner on week ends. We had the choice of headlining on weekday nights or opening for the bands that were now the top draws. We were not happy campers. I remember that at first, I was opposed to the idea of opening for anyone. After all, we were a great band with a history in Boston. Not to mention the blow to the ego. But Fred felt that it would be smart to open. He said that we could hold our own with, and in some cases blow away, any headliner in Boston. It would put us in front of older fans that had stopped coming to our shows, and expose us to the new crop of college kids that were always coming into Boston. It would be a much sounder strategy. We reluctantly agreed, and our first opening date was booked at The Main Act in Lynn, Mass. We were to open for Robin Lane and The Chartbusters, who had recently signed with Warner Bros. Records. There was a third band on the bill that would open the show that night, and we arrived for sound check that afternoon not in the best spirits. Billy usually re-strung our guitars every week, but for some reason I decided to do it myself at that sound check. It was probably just to keep busy. While I was stringing my guitar, a few of the opening band members came over to say hi. I always made an effort to be friendly with the opening bands, as I had been around long enough to fully appreciate the plight of the opening act. We were chatting while I re-strung, and one of them asked if I had broken a string. I replied no, that I put new strings on every week. He laughed and told me how he would save his old strings for back up, not being able to afford to buy new ones very often. I thought about that, and realized just how lucky I was. We certainly had our problems, but how short a time ago was it that I was saving my old strings? By show time, I had a whole new attitude. We went on and played like we had never played before. All of the band knew that we now had something to prove, and we weren't about to let the opportunity pass. The crowd went nuts! We got three or four encores, and I have very seldom experienced the euphoria that was in the dressing room after that show! The other thing that made that night special was that a new WBCN DJ was there. His name was Carter Alan, he loved show, and we gave him an advance copy of Lonelyhearts/Can't Wait Forever. It was Carter who took the record to WBCN and championed it. It was he who first played it, and because of him it garnered more airplay. We were in good company, as Carter was also the first DJ in the United States to discover and play U2. Carter and I really hit it off, and it was the beginning of a friendship that has lasted to this day. We did several more shows in Boston as openers, one for my old friends The Neighboorhoods. It was hard to do, but certainly got us focused on our goal once again. Then, seemingly overnight, you couldn't turn on the radio without hearing "Lonelyhearts"! The record quickly went to #1 on the WBCN local countdown. At that time, WBCN would play a lot more local music during regular broadcast hours, and actually had a local top 10. Then Ken Shelton, another of the WBCN disc jockeys that was a heavy supporter of local music, asked us if we would play the re-opening of the Inn Square Men's Bar in Cambridge. The Inn Square Men's Bar was a much beloved but very tiny bar that featured local original bands every night, and had just undergone renovations. Marshall, the bar owner, was one of the few true gentlemen in the business. At 175 people, it was a really small place for us to play. But we liked the bar, and it was a chance for us to headline again in Boston at a high profile event. The night of the show, I picked up Bobby Marron and headed for the club. As we drove down the street that the club was on, I saw a huge line of people stretching down the street and around the corner, out of sight. I turned to Bobby and said, "I wonder what that's for?" After a few moments, Bobby exclaimed, "Fred, It's for us!" Sure enough, the origin of the line was the front door of the bar. The show that night was fantastic! The crowd was great, Marshall had champagne and flowers in the dressing room, and we were once again on top! Unfortunately, things weren't going so well in our relationship with Fred Munao. We had felt for some time that the manager/artist relationship wasn't working any more, and had come to the decision that we should part ways. I remember suggesting that we discuss it with Fred before the record came out, but the overall feeling was that we should wait. The week that "Lonelyhearts" came out, Tom discussed it with Fred. He wasn't about to let us walk away from the three contracts we had with him, so we hired an attorney and began a legal battle that would tie us up for the next nine months. In that span of time, "Lonelyhearts" was a monster of a hit in Boston, and a few major labels became interested in the band. But the minute that they learned we were in litigation and had no management, they backed away. We followed "Lonelyhearts" with "Pop Shivers", a song that B had written. We only released it on tape to radio stations, hoping to save any potential sales for a new album. "Pop Shivers" also became a big hit, and we were firmly established again as a top draw in New England. We still were offered and did openings for top recording acts, but were no closer to a new record deal. When we finally settled the contracts with Fred, label interest in the band had died down. We decided to seek out new management, and sent out recordings and a live video to several management companies. We talked to a few people, but the only real interest came from Blue Sky Productions, owned by Steve Paul and Terry Slatus. Steve Paul was a legendary figure in New York for having owned The Scene, which was one of the happening night clubs of the late sixties. Hendrix, Morrison, and all of the other rock stars of the day hung out there when in town. He also had discovered Johnny Winter and gotten him his deal with Columbia Records. He and Teddy managed Johnny and Edgar Winter, Rick Deringer, David Johanson, and Dan Hartman We negotiated with his office for over a year, if my memory serves me correctly. Finally, we signed with Blue Sky. Right before we signed with Steve, he invited us out to his Connecticut estate for the weekend. The town that he lived in was also inhabited by a bevy of well known actors and very rich people. How rich? There were no numbers on the mailboxes. You had to identify the house that you were looking for by the color or design of the mailbox. We got lost, and stopped to ask a cop sitting in a cruiser for directions. When I asked, he said, "Why do you want to know?" I explained that we were visiting a business associate. "What's his name?" He finally gave me directions, but I think getting into Fort Knox must be easier. When we finally arrived, I was impressed by the estate, which was several acres large. Steve had a Swiss Chalet style house with a large courtyard. Being a car buff, I immediately noticed a light blue mid 50's Lincoln Continental Mark II sitting in the courtyard. It was an unusual car, and I asked about it. It turned out that he liked the color of the car, and it was just sitting there unused. Steve had a thing about the color blue. He only would wear blue clothing, all of his cars were blue, his record label was Blue Sky, etc. His house was incredible. When entering through the front door, you found yourself in a Great Room. As I recall, it must have been 30' x 60'. It was split into a few areas, and had a huge stone fireplace on each end of the room. There was a pool table, a Wurlitzer juke box, and assorted other things of interest throughout. We spent a good weekend there, discussing business and hanging out on the estate. Steve also had a painting in his office by the comedic actor Zero Mostel. I was also a Zero Mostel fan, and Steve told me how after he had bought and hung the painting, he realized that Zero hadn't signed it! He called the gallery, and Zero came to his office to sign the painting. It's good to be rich. At the point that we signed with Steve, we had another radio hit with "Weekend", a hard rocking celebration of the club scene also penned by B. We hoped that the involvement of Steve Paul would bring renewed interest from labels, but nothing happened. CBS had Blue Sky Records on a tight leash, so we couldn't even be signed to our manager's label! We talked Steve and Teddy into financing a four song demo to get some new material recorded, and that resulted in our session at Syncro Sound. Syncro Sound was a recording studio owned by The Cars, and was located on Newbury Street in Boston. It boasted the very latest in technology, including the option of using a 40 track recorder. We opted for 24 tracks, and recorded three songs by B, "Perfect Stranger", "Believe In Love", and "Wrong Number". We also recorded one of our encore songs, "Rock & Roll, Parts 1 and 2", originally done by Gary Glitter. I believe that out of these sessions came the best recordings that The Atlantics ever made. We had the opportunity to relax a little bit and make sure that the recordings sounded the way that we wanted them to. "Wrong Number" was released to radio stations on tape, and became another hit for us. But radio stations were getting a little weary of playing songs on tape. They wanted their listeners to be able to go out and buy the songs that they were hearing. We knew that time was getting tight. We had throughout kept up a vigorous schedule of concert dates, mostly in New England and New York. But the stress of traveling had begun to wear on the band. There were strains in our relationship, and everyone was beginning to tire of playing the same songs in the same clubs night after night. If an artist has a successful recording career, they have the opportunity to take time off. But after five solid years of being on the road without a break, it had begun to take it's toll. Understand that this does not mean that we no longer liked the songs we were playing or didn't appreciate the loyalty of our fans. We were just tired. We recorded one last time in our rehearsal hall, though. We had a board brought in and recorded "Back In The World", a song written by B. We never released it, but it came out great! Also, music had begun to change again, as it always does. Culture Club and other bands of that ilk had ushered in electronic drums and synthesized guitars, something that appealed to Tom and B. Christmas week of 1982, I got together with some other local musicians to have some fun. We put together an English Invasion tribute band that we called Fred and The Studebakers. The idea was to play a few shows as a break from our regular bands. We booked three or four shows in town that week, beginning with the Christmas show at Spit on Landsdowne Street. It was very successful, and a lot of fun. The last date was at The Inn Square Men's Bar, and B asked if he could sit in and sing a song. I said sure, and he and Tom came by. Early in the night, I asked B up to do "Money", the Barrett Strong song covered by The Beatles. Now, I've never thought that B had the strongest voice, but he exploded on stage! I realized two things at that moment: 1) B really wanted to be, and could well pull off, fronting a band, and 2) The Atlantics days were numbered. The crowd really went wild for B, and I had him come up during one of the encores and perform "Money" again. Again, the crowd reacted strongly. I remember sharing my feeling that The Atlantics were coming to an end with Paul, who felt that I was off the mark. Sure enough, about a month later, Tom and B announced that they were going to leave the band to start work on what would become Ball and Pivot. There was never any real question that the band would break up. Tom and B had started The Atlantics, and the loss would be too great to survive. B was, in my opinion, one of the great songwriters of that time in Boston. He wrote most of the body of songs that we performed over the years, and he wrote hits. If The Atlantics had gotten a decent record deal and the band's recordings had been promoted strongly, I believe that B could have been spoken of in the same breath as songwriters such as Tom Petty or Elvis Costello. One of my great regrets is that I don't ever remember telling him that. B and I always were friendly, but never friends. There were a lot of contributing factors that made it that way, and both he and I were guilty of "feeding the fire" at times. It does not, however, change in any way the fact that I admire his work and am glad to have had the opportunity to perform with him. Tom had only written several songs over the years, so it seems ironic that our biggest hit came from him. Tom really had a good head for business, and actually did the hands on managing of the band. He kept the financial records and worked with our agency, Pretty Polly Productions, on booking the band. We kept the fact that we were breaking up quiet. The final show was to be at The Channel in May of 1983. That week, we took out a 1Ú2 page ad in The Boston Phoenix that featured a photo of the band and said, "Thanks Boston! It's been great!" The Final Show The day of the final show, there were people in the club parking lot when we showed up for sound check at 4:00pm! The Channel legally held 1300 people, but that night they had to have crammed an extra three or four hundred people in there. I remember the waitresses being angry because they couldn't get through the crowd to take orders and serve drinks! The dressing room was located on the opposite side of the club from the stage, and there was no way that we were going to be able to get through the crowd. They ended up taking us out the front door of the club and we entered through the doors behind the stage. Ironically, one of the opening acts was Extreme. For the first time, we were introduced individually. The crowd was over the top! We gave one of our best performances, and kept doing encores until we ran out of songs! The night was really caught up in emotion, and went by in a blur. We hung out for a while after the club was cleared for a small, informal, get together that the club owners had for us. In one way, it was a real adrenaline rush to have been part of such an incredible night and such a great band. In another way, it was really sad that it was over. Post Atlantics After The Atlantics break up, B, and Tom went on to form Ball and Pivot, and were joined by Paul on electronic drums. I put together a band that included Bobby Marron on vocals and Sus from Midnight Traveler on drums. We named it PM. I also produced recordings for other Boston bands, and was briefly a partner in a label, Condor Records. As a producer, I did projects with The Lowgistics, Loose Ties, Ball and Chain and others. The only album released by Condor Records was Advance Warning by John Warren, which I also p,roduced. The Condor project was very well financed, and included a 45 rpm single released from the album that was a pick of the week in Billboard (my shining moment as a producer). We also released a high budget video of the song "Advance Warning". The album didn't do nearly as well as we had hoped, part of the reason being my haven chosen John Warren as the singer. John was an extremely talented singer, but he and I turned out to be like oil and water. He always felt that I didn't give him enough freedom in the studio, and I to this day feel that I gave him far too much. PM might have been an interesting band, but Bobby really didn't want to go back into the club circuit without any type of assurance that he could make a living at it. Bobby is one of the most genuine people that I have ever met, and was never anything but honest regarding that point. I hoped that once we got into the project, his feelings would change. We went into the studio and did a four song demo that was going to be released as a 12' EP. I gave a copy to Pretty Polly Productions, and they wanted us to begin performing. It wouldn't have been bad, as we would be starting out as headliners on the strength of Bobby and I having been in The Atlantics. They booked a few dates, but Bobby didn't want to go out. Eventually, another local band, Cut 229, offered to put Bobby on salary. He was excited at the thought of making his living at music again, and went with the offer. I tried replacing Bobby, and shifted other personnel at different times, but the band ended up being more of a songwriting vehicle for me. We never played a live show. Ball and Pivot were a top draw in the New England area, and came the closest to the success that The Atlantics enjoyed. They a brisk selling 12"ep, but they never secured a major label deal and eventually disbanded. I've lost contact with most of the other members of the band. I know that Paul runs a CD manufacturing company. B now goes by the name of Brian Wilkinson, and became an actor. I did speak with Bobby on the telephone a short time ago, and he ended up getting out of music and moved back home to New Jersey. I understand that Tom still lives in the Boston area, but I have no idea what he is doing. Ray has opened a successful Boston recording studio specializing in rap called Budda Beats, and is starting a rap record label. From time to time people ask me if their will ever be a reunion show. I suppose that you should never say never, but at this point in time I highly doubt it. However, if the opportunity ever presented itself, I would be there in a heartbeat. It would be great to play all of those songs one more time. A Few Miscellaneous Atlantics Memories We opened for many top recording acts and took part in some great shows during the course of our career as The Atlantics, and here are a few memories that I have regarding some of those events. We opened for Prince when he played The Metro (now Avalon) on his "Dirty Mind" tour. When I arrived at the club at about 5:00pm for our sound check, one of the crew told me that Prince had been sound checking for four hours. The band sounded absolutely perfect, but Prince was complaining about a slight hum in the monitors. The sound company had searched for a ground problem, but was coming up empty. Finally, Prince and his band left the stage and filed out of the club. Their Road Manager approached the head guy from the sound company and told him that they would be back at 10:00 to do their show. If the hum was still in the monitors, there would be no show. The sound company tore the entire sound system apart, and when Prince returned, the monitors were as clear as a bell. I haven't liked everything that Prince has done over the years, but he is a Hell of a songwriter/performer, and his show was electrifying! He was a really quiet person off stage, though. He struck me as being very shy. Oh, and as for this Artist Formally Known As stuff - grow up! We were booked to open for Alice Cooper at a huge, cavernous, auditorium somewhere. Alice was still battling cocaine, and looked to weigh about 100 pounds. When we took the stage, I looked out onto a sea of bikers. I knew that this was going to be ugly. They HATED us! A lot of them had smuggled in liquor, and mid way through our show, a full bottle of Bacardi rum flew past my head, missing me by inches! It hit the stage nearby and smashed into a thousand pieces. There was a chorus of boos and all sorts of items thrown at us, as well as comforting phrases such as "Get off the stage, you faggots!" We did our whole show, and somehow left the stage intact. There was a concert hall on Cape Cod called the Cape Cod Coliseum. We were booked to open for Foreigner on the last show of the summer season there. Now, I know what you're thinking. Foreigner. Wimpy ballad band. Easy show. Right? Wrong! We pulled into the parking lot, and it looked like the scenes from the L.A. riots that you saw on television. Beer bottles were flying everywhere, and a guy was standing on a car swinging a mic stand at some other guys that were trying to get at him. Don't ask me where he got the mic stand. Once we got inside, sound check went well, and Foreigner had the best catered meal of any show that I have ever played! The arena was not air conditioned, and it must have been 105 degrees in there. They let the people in two hours before we went on and served beer to the already drunk crowd. I didn't have a very good feeling about the show. We were standing side stage waiting to be introduced. The lights went down, and seven thousand people went wild! I turned to Bobby and commented that it might not be so bad after all. Then the announcer's voice came over the PA and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, would you please welcomeÉÉ". That's all we heard, because at that point, seven thousand people all went BOOOOOOO in unison! It really didn't matter who we were, they had paid to see Foreigner, they were as hot as Hell, they were REALLY drunk, and they wanted nothing whatsoever to do with any opening act! We took the stage, and were greeted by a hailstorm of sneakers, beer cups, and quarters. They liked to throw quarters, because they went a long way, could be aimed well, and they hurt like Hell when they hit! We got through the first two songs, and it actually got worse! Bobby came over to me and said, "Screw them! Lets do our show!" We went to the front of the stage, daring them to bring it on. And they did - for a while. Then the beer and heat caught up with them and they began to quiet down. A few songs before the end of the set, B caught a glass nip bottle off of his forehead, opening up a nasty cut. The crowd came to life again, smelling blood as it were. But we kept playing, and when we finally left the stage, we got a little applause from the people who were amazed that we hung in there. I could be counted in that number. Once in the dressing room, Neil Jacobson of the Don Law Organization came in and casually said, "Great show, guys!" We all looked at him as though he was crazy. B was trying to stop the bleeding from his forehead with ice in a towel, and the rest of us were shell shocked! Neil then informed us that opening acts at this venue usually didn't make it through their sets. He related a story of Joan Jett opening for Loverboy. Joan was hit in the head by a full bottle of wine and knocked out! They carried her off stage. When she came to a few moments later, she and her band, The Blackhearts, went back out, told the crowd to fuck off, and finished the show! From that moment on, the crowd was with her 100%! THATS my kind of girl! This isn't a show related story, but it did happen on the way home from the Roxy Music tour. We had pulled into Akron, Ohio to play at a club called The Flying Machine. We arrived at 5:00am and checked into the Holiday Inn in downtown Akron. Everyone had nothing but sleep on their mind. I had woken up long enough to stumble into the hotel room and fall into bed. Ray fell into the other double bed, and we dozed off. About 6:30am, we were awakened by a loud rapping sound and a shrill woman's voice screeching "It's the maid! Do you want your linens changed?" She was all the way down the other end of the hall, but her voice cut like a diamond on glass. We thought that she would stop after one or two rooms, but she worked her way down the hall, room by room. At each room came the loud rapping on the metal door with her keys, followed by the screech "It's the maid! Do you want your linens changed?" There were no takers. We were awake, miserable, and pissed! I called down to the desk and complained, but no one came up to stop her. She finally got to our room. Somehow they always seemed to know where we were and came looking for us. She rapped and she screeched. We didn't answer, due largely to the fact that we had hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob! She rapped and screeched again. Again we didn't answer. She rapped and screeched a third time. Ray snapped. He shouted "Get the fuck out of here!" For the first time in a half hour, there was silence in the hallway! Then she moved to the next door and continued rapping and screeching! Later, we all got up and gathered in Fred Munao's room, and Ray went into Fred's bathroom to take a shower. There was a knock at the door. The head of Housekeeping had come, maid in tow, to complain that one of us had used foul language and yelled at the maid. Fred went on the offensive. He read her the riot act! None of his boys would ever speak that way to the maid, no matter how angry we were! He was doing great until, in an effort to demonstrate just how aggravating the maid was, he borrowed her keys and started rapping on the metal door. From the shower we heard Ray shout "Get the fuck out of here!!" The head of Housekeeping pointed to the bathroom and said, "That's him!" We all cracked up, and Fred came to a middle of the road understanding with them. No rapping and screeching, no swearing and yelling. The Atlantics were a huge band in Boston, and as a result, we all had become local celebrities. I had people approach me in supermarkets, malls, and a variety of other places for an autograph, or just to say "hi". But maybe the best example of this occurred one Friday night while en route to a show. Mike Kassel, my band mate from the Automatic Slim days was visiting from San Francisco, and he was riding with me to see The Atlantics for the first time. It was mid winter, and was snowing heavily. While going through an intersection in Somerville, the car in front of me braked suddenly. I braked, but slid on the slippery road surface and tapped into the rear bumper of the car in front of me. I wasn't going more than a few miles per hour, and their was no damage to either vehicle, but the guy driving the other car leapt out screaming that he was going to kill not only me, but whatever family of mine that he could hunt down, then skin us and nail our hides to a shed. This guy was a pretty big townie type, and had obviously begun his weekend partying shortly after work had ended that day. Mike and I looked at each other in that "I think that I'm about to die" manner, and I sighed and left the warm, safe, confines of my car to face an uncertain future. Once outside, the townie marched up to me with fists clenched. It was at times like this that having purple hair really works against you. He got right up to me and into my face, when all of a sudden a dim flicker ignited somewhere in the deep recesses of his gray matter. He stopped, smiled, and said, "Hey! You're Fred Pineau of The Atlantics! I'm on my way to see you! You guys are the balls!!!" I have seldom heard such beautiful words put so well. It was pure poetry to my ears. We shook hands, chatted for a few minutes, and I put him on the guest list for the show that night. He left saying that now he could brag to his friends that he was rear ended by Fred Pineau of The Atlantics! I'm not sure how I felt about THAT, but I was alive! When we got back into the car, Mike told me the fact the guy not only knew The Atlantics, but my full name, had impressed him much more than a crowd of people cheering for the band. That, coupled with the fact that he didn't kill me. The University of Lowell had a huge outdoor festival that we were booked into. It was 40,000 people, the largest audience that we ever played to. During our show, a drunken frat brother threw a full, unopened glass quart bottle of beer straight up into the crowd. It came down on a college coed's head, knocking her unconscious. I recall noticing a commotion, but when you're looking out at 40,000 people, you don't see a lot of detail. Someone pointed out the guy responsible to the Police, and he was arrested. The girl later died from her injury. It was a tragedy, and it really felt weird to have had someone be fatally injured during our show. I, like most people alive at the time, remember exactly what I was doing when I got the news that John Lennon had been murdered. All of us in The Atlantics were fans of his, and shortly after his death B came up with the idea of doing a benefit in Lennon's memory to raise money for CP/Pax, the handgun control lobby in Boston. About a month after the shooting, we played the Paradise Theater along with Pastiche and The New Models. The Paradise would only book the show for one night, and ended up turning away enough people to have easily sold out at least one more show. It was an emotion filled night. We went on last, and for our last encore we had learned "Instant Karma" When we started it, the room exploded in a way that I have never felt before or since. Halfway through the song, I looked out to see the audience holding hands, crying, and singing the chorus with usÉ"And we all shine on, like the wind and the rain and the sun" Everyone was grieving his loss together, and it was one of the most moving experiences that I've ever had. ThirdPerson One thing that always was a source of frustration for me in The Atlantics was that I couldn't develop as a songwriter. Now, we already had a great songwriter in B, and Tom obviously could hit the mark. All that considered, I probably should have been content to just play. But I was driven to try and improve my skills as a songwriter. It was difficult for the band as well. The songs that I would occasionally bring were nowhere near the quality of the songs that we were doing, and it must have been frustrating to have me want to work on them. But that's how a songwriter learns. In the first years after the Atlantics break up, I worked on trying to improve my songwriting skills, using PM as a sounding board. One of the things that was a great help to me was writing with a buddy of mine, Steve Greeley. Steve has a great voice, and is a good composer. It was largely through writing with him and getting feedback from another songwriter that I began to improve. After PM had disbanded, we formed a band that was dubbed ThirdPerson. It consisted of Steve on piano, Me on guitar, Steve's brother Tom on drums, Tom Rasku on bass, and Jimi Zimmardi on keyboards and sax. In 1988 we released a self titled album. One of the songs on the album I had co-written with Joe Crown, the keyboard player from PM. It was called "Here Comes Trouble", and was number one on the WBCN local countdown for three weeks. It felt good to have people respond to something that I had a hand in composing. The band was good, and had great moments, but never captured the fire and popularity that The Atlantics had. Also, at the time the album came out I was just at the beginning of a very difficult divorce. I just couldn't focus on the band the way I needed to, so I stepped aside. For the next five years, I retired from performing, and almost stopped playing altogether. Stand Up Comedy Finally, I began to get restless for the stage. I had been out of the loop musically in Boston for over five years, which in the local music scene is like a lifetime! While I was contemplating what to do musically, I began doing stand up comedy. I had always loved stand up, and had always written bits and comedy material over the years, so it seemed like a good fit. I had been stepping on stage as a musician for nearly thirty years, but I had never felt fear like the fear I felt the first time that I did stand up! It was just you and the mike, no hiding behind volume or other band members! But I kept going, and for the next nine months or so did pretty good. But my first love was music, and fate stepped in. Syphlloids Booking the original Comedy Connection in Boston's Theater District was Doug Quintal. The first time that I called to book a spot at their open mike night, Doug asked me for my background. I, of course, mentioned The Atlantics. It turned out Doug was a musician, an Atlantics fan, and had actually opened for The Atlantics a few times while in a college band. I guess it really is a small world after all. As we got to know each other a little better, he told me about a project that he had been doing off and on for years called Syphlloids. It was a punk/alternative band with a comedic edge. He was in the process of doing a four song cassette, and asked if I would be interested in playing on it. I said sure, thinking that it would be a few afternoons of my time. It turned out to be four years of my life. Syphlloids were a socially irreverent comic statement built on a punk/alternative band frame. Nothing was sacred. At Syphlloids shows, it wouldn't be unusual to have a guy that I called Baby Bop on stage in a diaper and full head monster mask throwing Jell-O shots at the audience, or bare breasted women as Go-Go dancers. It was definitely in your face. I really liked the idea, and Doug and I began to work on material. The first order of business was for me to pick a name. Syphlloids were a fictitious family that Doug had created, and he was Bug Syphlloid. My hair had begun going gray in my twenties. For years I dyed it, then finally said to Hell with it and grew it out. I fortunately still have all of my hair, but it is very salt and pepper! Considering the age factor, I dubbed myself Elvis Aaron Syphlloid. We never rehearsed, and learned new songs in the dressing room before we went on stage. It was exhilarating! I would liken it to doing improv comedy, in that you never quite knew what was going to happen. There were times that it didn't work, but when it did, it was unbelievable! We played around Boston at the Hard Rock CafZà, The Rat, Mama Kin, and clubs of that ilk. We eventually got a permanent bass player and drummer in Mark Mayhem and Jesse Mayer. Up until then, we were showing the other musicians the songs right before the show! We began rehearsing in Bug's apartment, and songs began to get tight. Right before we got Mark and Jessie, we got a call from the Don Law Organization. There was an upcoming concert featuring Rancid and The Queers. Would we be interested in opening the show? To this day I have no idea why they called us, but it was a return to the concert stage that I'll never forget! Up until then, it was just having fun. With this booking we decidedÉ.to do nothing different. We showed up and rehearsed Bug's new song, "Strap Monkey", in the dressing room for that night. Before the show, I looked out from the dressing room onto a sea of red mohawks, leather, and tattoos. It was as though I had taken a time machine back to The Rat in 1976! We were introduced and took the stage. Bug's girl friend was standing in the crowd, and was behind a group of college age girls. When they caught sight of me, gray hair, sunglasses, leather jacket, and Les Paul in hand, they fell silent. Then one of them said what I'm sure 95% of the audience was thinking. "Who's the old guy?" It wasn't said in a mean way, just out of pure amazement! We started the set, and they were won over song by song. At the end of our show, Bug was introducing the band. At that point, I had written a seven page biography of the Syphlloid family, and in it I was the father of the other band members. So Bug pointed to me and said, "And on lead guitar, our DadÉ" The audience went bezerk! That moment was special to me, almost like a homecoming of sorts. Eventually, we went into the Zigmo Studios in Marblehead, Mass., to record some demos. Dan and Dana Tarlow, the owners of the studio and Zigmo Records, liked us so much that they signed us to do an album! We recorded 15 songs, and in April of '97 our album, "Riding The Corporate Muscle" came out. At that point, we had changed drummers to Snyder-Bob Syphlloid. The CD did well for a small independent release, getting airplay on over 250 college stations in the U.S., and some stations in Canada and Mexico. The band began getting offers to do shows further and further from home. I traveled to New York to do three different shows, but then it became obvious that the band really wanted to go on the road for mini tours. I couldn't do that, as I now had a career in Property Management to consider, not to mention the strain that it would put on my family life. I had remarried a few years before and now had two step daughters. Bug was terrific about trying to work around me, but the band was turning down more shows than it was playing. Eventually, I decided to leave the band. Bug and I had become close friends, and remain so. He did some shifting around in members, and I'm happy to say that Syphlloids are still performing! In May of 2000 their new CD, "Finger Check", will be released. Here And Now After leaving the band in April '98, Dan Tarlow and I were having a conversation one day when I jokingly said that the only thing left for me was a solo album. He said that I should give it some serious thought. I did, and am currently finishing work on my first solo album! The album will be called "2 Pickups, 6 Strings, and an Attitude", and should be out in the summer of 2000. It will feature Tim Archabald on bass guitar, David Vargas on drums and Dan Tarlow on keyboards and additional guitar. Six of the ten songs will be originals, and the other five will be songs by artists that had a profound influence on me early in my career. Thus far, I have recorded "Roadrunner" by Bo Diddley and "Trouble Every Day" by Frank Zappa. When finished, the CD will also include "You've Got A Hard Time Coming" by Barry and The Remains and a medley of "Psychotic Reaction" by The Count Five into "Mystic Eyes" by Them, Van Morrison's first band. I am hoping to do several shows in the Boston area to support the CD. I have related all of this from memory. I'm sure that there are people, places, and plenty of interesting stories that I have forgotten. But my hope is that through the telling of my story, the reader will be able to understand somewhat the rigors of the music business, while catching a little of the flavor of the music scene in Boston in the late seventies/early eighties.

April 27, 2000 Copyright 2000 by Fred Pineau