Pennywise

By John B. Moore

The Hermosa Beach punk band Pennywise has been faced with the break up question before.

In 1996 when founding bassist Jason Thirsk committed suicide they had to decide whether to keep the band together or call it a day. They opted for the former, bringing in bassist Randy Bradbury and turned in some of their biggest albums to date.

So when singer Jim Lindberg decided to leave the group in 2009, citing a desire to spend more time off the road and with his family, the other guys in Pennywise already knew they would soldier on without him. They hired Ignite front man Zoli Teglas a few months later and got to work on All or Nothing, their 10^th record.

With the new album finally on the merch table and a summer full of tours ahead, Bradbury spoke recently about Lindberg's decision to leave and the band's decision to brush it off and start over. 

***

How did you end up finding Zoli? Did you audition other singers?
 
We had toured with Ignite, and we were also fans of Ignite before we even knew Zoli. I had always thought from the first time I saw Ignite, back in 1996 that Zoli would be a great replacement for Jim, if Jim were to quit. Jim was always threatening to quit, even back then. So Zoli was always on our radar, but after Jim quit we wanted to be sure that we had at least tried out some other people, to make sure we were making the right choice. We tried out quite a few others, and got demo tapes from even more people. In the end there was a lot of good stuff coming from everyone that tried out, but Zoli just fit like a glove.

 
So at any point when Jim left, did you guys think of calling it quits or even recording under a different name?
 
Not at all. We never considered quitting or changing the name. Jim didn't like being in the band. We like being in Pennywise and we like playing Pennywise songs to Pennywise fans. Fletcher (Dragge) and Jason (Thirsk, former bassist who passed away in 1996) started the band, it's Fletcher's band. We aren't going to quit because Jim says so. Not taking anything away from the amazing accomplishments that we achieved with Jim, and not taking away from Jim's great song writing, and his voice... But still, we didn't think his quitting was warranted. We felt like his desire to quit was based on his perspective alone, a perspective that the rest of us don't believe was completely legitimate (at least from the way he tried to explain it to us). The success that Pennywise has been gifted is extremely fortunate. This success deserves the ultimate respect, and our fans deserve the ultimate respect for supporting us. Quitting, in my opinion, is a slap in the face to this gift of success. That's how I see it.... I have a family also; I have four beautiful children that I love more than life itself. We all have families. Pennywise has always done minimal touring so that we can be at home as much as possible with our families. It's the best of both worlds, why would we give up on a lifetime of work, a dream come true, that has taken two decades to build? It just wouldn't make sense for the rest of us to quit just because one dude is over it.

 
From the Punk Rock Dads documentary it seemed like the split was not as contentious as it was made out to be online. Was everyone pretty ok when Jim left?
 
No, we were not ok with Jim leaving. Jim was awesome when he had enthusiasm for the band. Jim was a great songwriter, a great performer, a fun guy to be around when he was happy. We wanted Jim to stay in the band. We tried very hard to make things comfortable for him. We limited our touring, we tried to be non-confrontational, and we tried to include songs that he wanted to play. We even offered to pay for a nanny for his children when we were on the road. Jim was a great singer and songwriter, the last thing we wanted was for him to leave the band. But once he decided to go, I think I got a little bitter that he didn't put the same value on being in Pennywise that I did, so now there is this trail of shit left in the wake.

 
When did you start work on All or Nothing?
 
I started writing songs for All or Nothing the day we got out of the studio for Reason to Believe. We didn't know the title, or what the future had in store, but I always write music. But, I would say we conscientiously started writing All or Nothing, with Zoli, about two years ago. There was a lot of getting used to each other's styles and finding the right way to express ourselves musically with a new singer in the band, and we didn't want to fuck up. So we took our time with this album, and we are really happy with the results. Zoli is such a great singer and he has adapted his style to fit our music so well, all the hard work and trials that we've gone through all seem worth it now.

 
Was the writing of the music different when you add Zoli to the mix?
 
Well, we could write in a higher registers because Zoli has a higher vocal range than Jim did. We all had input on every single song. We were able to experiment more with every song until we all felt that we had done as much as we could to make it the best we could. I think we just worked harder and more like a team on this record. It reminded me of back when we did Full Circle.

 
Was there any kind of initiation he had to go through?
 
Fletcher has been hazing Zoli pretty much constantly, but I think Zoli actually likes it. Zoli can dish it back pretty damn good. They are pretty evenly matched when it comes to playing the dozens. All in all, Zoli is like a long lost brother, he fits in Pennywise so good. I love having him around, he's a fun guy.

 There seems to be a lot of songs about standing up for yourself. Was there meant to be a general theme to these songs?
 
It's kind of a general theme. These songs are written post 9-11, post George Bush, current Obama, the president of NON change. There is so much corruption in the world and so many lies being fed to us by the liars in charge, it's hard for us to not write songs suggesting you stand up for yourself and take the power back. I know it gets a little repetitive, but repetition is how you get things to stick in people's heads... The real overall theme though, is to get people to think for themselves. Don't fall for the bullshit that the media dumps on you, that's fed to them by the power elite in order to make us, the common peasants, easier to control. The theme is to think for yourself and try to make this world a better place. These songs are just meant to be eye openers, and stir up the thought processes of anyone that is interested in the message. These songs are not intended as a blueprint, just as a motivator to start thinking.
 

I came to Matthew Ryan a little later than most people I know. The first song of Matthew's I heard was "The World is on Fire" from the album East Autumn Grin. The song was on a mix tape from a friend sandwiched between The Clash ("Somebody Got Murdered") and Leonard Cohen ("Chelsea Hotel #2"). Knowing Matthew the way I do now, I'm not sure he didn't somehow engineer that himself. Matthew Ryan is one of the most gifted, original and inspiring songwriters I'm aware of, and a listen to any of his records will yield that conclusion but he has done my favorite work of his career within the last five years, between the soaring, anthemic beauty of Vs. the Silver State and the jagged, pulsating brilliance of From a Late Night High Rise and Dear Lover. His voice is not just an instrument, it's a weapon. Coincidentally, Matthew covered "Somebody Got Murdered" a few years back for an album called The Sandinista Project, and here we are, talking about Leonard Cohen. Like I said, I'm not so sure he didn't somehow mastermind that mix tape placement.

Do you remember what it was that drew you initially to Cohen? Was it early on or did you find him by way of other artists, moving backwards through influences?

I remember hearing "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye." The girl I was with at the time had blonde hair. I was 16. The song humbled me, almost put romance in perspective. But you know nothing can stop you from digging in, investing in that unwritten future. But that song hit me hard. Made me think of my mom and dad, as well. It led me down the path with Cohen. Once a writer does that for you, gratitude isn't enough of a word. It just kept going from there. Cohen really is the only songwriter that matters in my opinion. The others are good, but Cohen is great. How about you?

I found him through Dylan. I heard a bootleg of Dylan covering "Hallelujah" from a tour he did in 1988, I think, and that was my first exposure to that song, and to Cohen. I was probably 15. It was right around that time that Dylan did Unplugged and had a sort of resurgence. Of course, over the next four or five years, I heard every singer in the world cover "Hallelujah," but it was one of those hair-stands-on-end songs. I went backwards from there, and found Songs of Love and Hate, and "Famous Blue Raincoat" stood me straight up, y'know? "It's four in the morning, the end of December." Oh, okay. Not ten words in and there's a whole world in your head already.

Maybe that's what sets him apart for me. What is it for you about Cohen that sets him apart?

Ya know, these days artifice is status quo. Arrogance and posturing are so much the main dish. Cohen is perfect humility. He's confident yet humble; in complete service to his art, his expression. This kind of commitment isn't something you happen upon. It's something that is worked towards. And that's another thing, his pleasure in the work. The follow through, the often perfect rhyme schemes and balance. And all of this, achieving almost natural beauty -- like high cliffs with softly gutting landings and clarity. "Famous Blue Raincoat" is a perfect example of his gifts. It's calm in the massacre of pretense, and somehow becomes heroic in its ability to express gratitude. Some may think it's a jab when he says, "thanks for the trouble you took from her eye, I thought it was there for good; so I never tried." I always believed him. Cohen taught me that there is no ownership of a woman or her heart. Not to say there isn't jealousy or pain in losing, but that there's also beauty and revelation. He's a generous writer.

My favorite couplet in the song, and maybe my favorite couplet of Cohen's, is: "you treated my woman to a flake of your life / and when she came back she was nobody's wife." That's the whole song distilled to two lines, how little was given and how much was taken from it. I remember reading an interview (from 1975, I think) where Cohen said the raincoat in question was actually his, a Burberry coat he had loved. Clearly he's not writing directly to himself but that was really representative to me of the way he constructs characters and narratives, and how his writing remains so true, even when the details are fudged, or amalgamated. There has to be some level on which he's writing to himself here, no?

Ya know, I think that's often the case that writers include themselves in the tapestry (for lack of a better word) of character pieces. It seems only natural and possibly even more honest. I mean, it's a full disclosure to the tenth degree. "Famous Blue Raincoat" is a masterpiece, an absolute necessary verse in the cannon that explores the distance and struggle between men and women. It just has a physicality about it; it feels lack that room on that night after revelation and medicine. And that directs me to another aspect of it: the performance is perfect. Cohen is one of my favorite singers, he's not an actor, he's a prop of sorts. It's almost like he exists only to support the words and the mood.

Yeah, he's almost a conduit, you know what I mean? Like, of course this is the voice that delivers these words. No other voice could do them justice. I think of Waits as one of the great "actors," and I don't mean that in a derogatory way. You always get the sense that Waits is making his voice a part of the song - an instrument - whereas Cohen is conveying something. I don't know that one is "better" than the other, I guess it depends on what you're listening for.

You're right on about Waits. He's deserves an Oscar. I've always felt it was through his characters that he found and built upon that language. What started out as a curiosity turned into a brave path through poetry, jazz, romance, humor, dogma, bravado and strange posture.

Do you think Cohen poops?

In ways you and I cannot even fathom.

***

Kasey Anderson is a songwriter, singer, dog owner and bacon enthusiast from Portland, Oregon. His three albums, Dead Roses (2004), The Reckoning (2007), and Nowhere Nights (2010) have earned plenty of praise from critics (No Depression, USA Today, The Onion) but, unfortunately, have not as yet yielded the Swedish Fish endorsement Anderson so badly desires. If you'd like to have Kasey Anderson sing, play harmonica and strum a guitar at you, you'll find him on tour all spring and summer (dates and info available at www.kaseyanderson.com), or if you'd simply like to read on as Anderson discusses various songs with other artists, writers, friends and cohorts, you're in the right place.

I started this column two years ago with the intention of interviewing fellow musicians, actors, comics, friends, and enemies (which would be difficult as I have none – ask around, that’s a science fact) about the songs that matter most to them. Unfortunately, after a few installments, and for any number of reasons, everything fell by the wayside.

With Blurt’s move, we figured now might be a good time to dust this thing off and see what we can do with it.

Here goes.

Kasey Anderson

Portland, Oregon

April 4, 2012

Yes, Dave Holmes was on MTV. He "lost" the Wanna Be a VJ contest to Jesse Camp in 1998, but was subsequently hired by MTV anyway because somebody had the good sense to realize that, while Jesse's batshit persona was charmingly annoying, Dave Holmes actually knew a good deal about music. Holmes probably could have worked for MTV in some fashion forever (God knows many have tried), but moved on to a variety of gigs, including but not limited to appearances on Reno 911, Best Week Ever, and FX's DVD on TV. While, for better or worse, Camp has been written off as a disposable product of the ‘90's, Holmes has remained a relevant, intelligent, and charming Pop Culture commentator, humorist and actor, finding a new generation of fans via Twitter (Twitter.com/daveholmes) and Tumblr (daveholmes.tumblr.com).

The process of narrowing down one song to discuss with Holmes was arduous as there is an enormous amount of crossover between our respective record collections, but the song that kept coming up was "Stuck Between Stations," from the Hold Steady's Boys & Girls in America record. Seeing as how a new Hold Steady record is on its way, that seemed like an appropriate enough choice.

Kasey Anderson:  Do you remember the first time you heard "Stuck Between Stations?" Did it make an immediate impact or was it a song that gradually worked its way into your life until it had burrowed in?

Dave Holmes:  Boys & Girls In America was one of the first albums I downloaded right at the stroke of 9pm Pacific time the night before its release. I was a big fan of Separation Sunday, I had seen them live a couple of times, and I was teenagery in my anticipation for the new one. And I think I listened to "Stuck Between Stations" 15 times before I moved forward. In fact, according to my iTunes, it is the most-played song in my library. I probably listen to it most while running; when I was training for the NYC Marathon, I put it on my "training playlist," timed for the exact moment at 13 miles when I become delirious.

KA:  I love and hate that "downloaded at the stroke of 9pm Pacific time" has replaced "picked up at the stroke of midnight at [local record store]." What is it that the tune would do for you at the 13 mile mark? Restore sanity or make delirium more tolerable? It's such a frantic song, lyrically and musically, that it could really go either way, but "soothing" is certainly not the first word that springs to mind when I think about the Hold Steady.

DH:  Thirteen miles is when my energy really starts to flag, and a song like "Stuck Between Stations" just picks me back up. Plus the endorphins make it easier to imagine myself performing the song in a packed and rowdy 3-to-5,000-seat theater. (Anything larger diminishes the intimacy I like in my imaginary concerts.)

KA:  Who is your backing band?

DH:  California Dreams, obviously. No. It's an ever-changing assortment of old friends who used to want to be in a band but are now bankers. There's something really exciting about this wave of bands made up of regular working guys in their 30s (The Hold Steady, Wormburner, Action Toolbelt). I imagine this is what black teenagers felt like when Grandmaster Flash et al came out.

KA:  I guess the first and most obvious question about the song itself is, do you think that Sal Paradise was right? Do boys and girls in America have such a sad time together?

DH:  Boys and girls in America do indeed have such a sad time together, and boys and boys and girls and girls don't fare much better. (If I ever do a one-man show, I'll call it "Boys & Boys In America," so let's all hope I never do a one-man show.) The active ingredient in the sadness is revealed a couple of seconds later, in one of the most succinct and devastating lines ever: "Crushing one another with colossal expectations." Now there's a line I could have stood to hear in my early 20s.

KA:  Ditto. And I could probably stand to hear the line occasionally now, though I've crossed the threshold into my 30's. So, is this a cautionary tale to you, or is Finn saying, "this is something we all go through because it's something we all HAVE to go through?" Say you had heard the line in your early 20's, would it still have hit home and, if so, would it have been advantageous to avoid some of that sadness and disappointment?

DH:  I think I went into relationships expecting these poor gentlemen to just make everything right for me. I think if I'd heard this line at age 23, I might have realized I needed to do a certain degree of that work myself. Actually, no- I still would have been an idiot. But the lesson got learned nonetheless.

KA:  The thing I like about Finn's writing in this song in particular is that there's a sort of fatalism to it without being especially pessimistic. There's a push and a pull. "There was that night we thought John Berryman could fly / but he didn't, so he died." In one couplet he sort of sums up the grand delusions of youth and art and contrasts them with the reality of life and death. If I were in my early 20's and heard that song, it would have sent me spiraling into a month-long depression. But hearing it at 26 or 27, it just sort of hung there and reminded me of a time when I thought John Berryman could fly - when hero worship and ambition were boundless. Do you think Finn is too fatalistic or is he just being a realist?

DH:  There's a definite undercurrent of disappointment running through this song, a sense that the things you want in your youth (fame, love, booze) can't sustain you forever. For me, the key line is "He was drunk and exhausted and he was critically acclaimed and respected." It's not but, it's and, which suggests that acclaim and respect are injuries. That line blows my mind.

KA:  That, to me, is what makes a great line great. The difference between "and" and "but." Do you agree with Finn's assessment of acclaim and respect, at least in that context? Are they, to some degree, albatrosses that lead to a compounding, albeit different, set of colossal expectations?

DH:  Acclaim and respect can make a man think he's getting called up to the majors, where everything is going to be easier and better and shinier, but everyone everywhere is confused and frightened. 

Plus, recognition can insulate a person from actual human connection. Once you're published- or put on TV or played through stereo speakers or whatever- suddenly there's a character out there with your name who looks and sounds like you, but isn't exactly you. Sometimes you get confused as to which one you're supposed to be, sometimes people are attracted to the public, published you who doesn't really exist. Relationships get crowded and confusing and become critical injuries for poets and sensitive types like John Berryman. (Some just become their fake selves, and you can see examples of this kind of soul death on reality TV literally all day long.)

KA:  This is something Springsteen has addressed a couple of times, mentioning that the Bruce Springsteen wouldn't allow Bruce Springsteen to visit strip clubs, which, evidently, is something Bruce Springsteen liked to do on occasion. Because of that rift between public and private personae, when private Bruce Springsteen acted out in defiance of the Bruce Springsteen, private Bruce tended to go overboard in his misbehavior. Or so the story goes. The thing is, at some point, Craig Finn became the Craig Finn, right? I'm curious as to how he reconciles those colossal expectations he is now saddled with. Have you ever had instance where you caught private Dave Holmes behaving in a way the Dave Holmes wouldn't approve of, or vice versa?

DH:  A good friend of mine met Craig Finn recently, and went into insta-gush mode, as would I. As the story goes, Craig waved it off graciously and asked my friend about his band, and they had a nice, long conversation. So it seems like Craig's got his head on straight, which is what happens when you get recognized a bit later in life. Of course, this tracks perfectly with the the Craig Finn in my mind. It's a hall of mirrors. 

My career didn't pick up until I was pushing 30 either, so I haven't really had to wonder who the real me is. Sometimes if I'm working on a live shoot for a long time, I find it hard to switch off the quip machine, but that's just a mild annoyance for my boyfriend.

KA:  From a purely musical standpoint, the song is very cinematic and sweeping - I suppose this is why the default comparison is the E Street Band. For me, that makes as big an impact as Finn's lyrics. From note one, this song is huge. If it had just been Craig Finn reciting lines over somebody fingerpicking an acoustic guitar, would the impact have been the same for you?

DH:  Yeah, I'm not interested in hearing a stripped-down version of this song. The driving-ness of the song is a perfect counterpoint to the weariness of the lyrics. To me, it says, "No, things don't work out the way you want them to, but you can still go on joyfully." Life is long and weird and sometimes really sad, but we're all in it together. That's kind of what Hold Steady shows are all about, and that's why I see them every chance I get.

I am fucking crazy about the Hold Steady.

So here's the disappointment that this song reminds me of: In 1989, I graduated high school and had myself narrowed down to two colleges: Boston College, which I had gotten into, and Holy Cross, which wait-listed me. Because they didn't like me as much, I decided I had to go to HC. (This pattern would repeat throughout the next 21 years.) I got into Holy Cross in August, and spent the next four (and a half) years adrift in a sea of boozy self-hatred in a college full of sportsy lawyery New Englanders. Had I gone to Boston College- had I just known myself a tiny bit better- Craig Finn would have been in my class. How we would have gotten each other back then! The late-night conversations about music! Regrets, I've had a few.

Kasey Anderson is a songwriter, singer, dog owner and bacon enthusiast from Portland, Oregon. His three albums, Dead Roses (2004), The Reckoning (2007), and Nowhere Nights (2010) have earned plenty of praise from critics (No Depression, USA Today, The Onion) but, unfortunately, have not as yet yielded the Swedish Fish endorsement Anderson so badly desires. If you’d like to have Kasey Anderson sing, play harmonica and strum a guitar at you, you’ll find him on tour all spring and summer (dates and info available at www.kaseyanderson.com), or if you’d simply like to read on as Anderson discusses various songs with other artists, writers, friends and cohorts, you’re in the right place.

By now, you've heard any number of people fawn over Visqueen's phenomenal album, Message to Garcia. Perhaps you heard the folks over at NPR rave about the record, or maybe you read a reviewer somewhere falling all over him-or-herself to heap praise upon Rachel Flotard and company's collection of songs paying homage to her late father. If you're lucky, you caught one of Visqueen's blistering, visceral sets somewhere out there in wherever it is you are. At any rate, you're aware of just how good Rachel Flotard and her band are.

I first saw Visqueen five-ish years ago at the 3B in Bellingham, Washington. Kim Warnick, who is no longer with the band, was on bass, which delighted the hell out of me as I was a massive Fastbacks fan. But then, as now, it was Flotard's songs that caught, and kept, my attention. Rachel Flotard is one of the best writers in Rock ‘N' Roll and, if you're not already aware of that, you ought to be.

In between gushing emails from me about how much I dig her band, Rachel and I talked a bit about the Beastie Boys. Specifically, Licensed to Ill and, more specifically, "She's Crafty."

You performed the tune at a talent show, right? What were the other contenders and how'd you narrow it down?

In high school, my friend Janine and I had to pick a song for our freshman chorus final.
We thought we were real wise guys and busted "She's Crafty" instead of some "Wind Beneath My Wings" action.

Keep in mind, this is 1986. And I almost had the Licensed to Ill plane tattooed on my face. Every 15-year-old in suburban New Jersey was singing "The New Style" and "No Sleep "Till Brooklyn." They were just skaters across the bridge from us having parties and throwing pies. For me It was as if Def Jam threw a huge pie on our entire high school. We had our moms packing our lunches and taking away our best porno mags.

We almost did "Hold It Now, Hit It," but someone got high and lost the coach whistle. What a bunch of A-holes. I can recite every word of that album. Today, probably. It's hardwired. I'm glad.

I feel like Licensed to Ill, more than any other Beasties record, is so firmly entrenched in the East Coast. Am I way off?
 

Licensed To Ill, to me, is the silhouette of the tri-state area.

It's like a map of the east in my head. But then so is Paul's Boutique. The coolest thing about those albums, in retrospect, and maybe because I was 17 or so, was that they became a language. If the person next to you lost their mind when "Shake Your Rump" came on, you were friends. That's it.

I loved the super-flyness of it. It's "Johnny Ryall"... The Beasties have everything. They are masters at what they do, and their discography twenty years later feels as familiar as penciled-up kitchen wall growth chart at your parents' house. For those of us at a certain age, they're a lucky Polaroid.

Why didn't the Beastie Boys get written off as sophomoric white boy rap? I don't think about Licensed to Ill that way, but maybe that's just retrospect and knowing that Paul's Boutique was next. For you, at the time, what made them more than just a punchline?

The whole thing was different. It was a movement. Even though it was ‘86, and they had a frat following and it was a little too "Girls," and MTV date-rapey, there was something going on that was not sophomoric white boy rap in any way. The effing sampling alone made the whole world split open. Rock and rap fused.

They were on tour with Public Enemy when I saw them. It was my first ever concert, I was scared shitless and had the best time.

Capitol Theatre, Passaic, NJ. Their stage prop was a giant 50-foot penis that came up from the stage floor. The hardcore band Underdog opened. Effing Joey Ramone walked out at one point. I said, "Who the hell is that? He's tall." At 15, I knew this was a force. I went to see them at MSG a few years later with RUN DMC on the Together Forever tour. Even thinking about that arena while I type this gives me a contact high. It was out of control amazing.

The Beastie Boys seem like such amazing people now. Fathers, brothers. I think that record is their freshman year, as it was mine. And they grew up. And rightly went all Tibet on their asses. I love them so much.

Kasey Anderson is a songwriter, singer, dog owner and bacon enthusiast from Portland, Oregon. His three albums, Dead Roses (2004), The Reckoning (2007), and Nowhere Nights (2010) have earned plenty of praise from critics (No Depression, USA Today, The Onion) but, unfortunately, have not as yet yielded the Swedish Fish endorsement Anderson so badly desires. If you’d like to have Kasey Anderson sing, play harmonica and strum a guitar at you, you’ll find him on tour all spring and summer (dates and info available at www.kaseyanderson.com), or if you’d simply like to read on as Anderson discusses various songs with other artists, writers, friends and cohorts, you’re in the right place.

Marc Maron is a lot of things but, above all else, he is a stand up comic. If you've seen Maron in films, on television, or on stage, you know he can act, but Maron is not an actor; if you've read his memoir, The Jerusalem Syndrome, you know that Maron is a hell of a writer, but he's not an author; and if you heard his voice on Air America or, more recently, on his revered podcast, WTF (which Ira Glass referred to as "the New York Times of comedy podcasts"), then you know Maron is an eloquent and adept interviewer and storyteller, but he's no "on-air personality." Marc Maron is an immensely intelligent an gifted performer and writer, but above all else, Marc Maron is a stand up comic, and Marc Maron is as good at being a stand up comic as you or I could ever hope to be at whatever we choose to do (or whatever chooses us, or whatever).

If you're not familiar with Maron's work, he tells a story that sums it up pretty well:

"Recently a young woman who had just seen me came out on to the street, came up to me, excited, and said, ‘You were really great. You're like Woody Allen.' Of course, I found a way to make that a negative and said, ‘Really, I think I'm a little angrier than Woody Allen.' In response she said, ‘You're like an Iggy Pop-Woody Allen.'"

It's an honor and a great pleasure to start this column back up again by talking to Marc Maron about the Stones and, more specifically, "It's Only Rock and Roll."

"It's Only Rock and Roll" is a really interesting choice. It's maybe not as iconic a Stones tune as "Satisfaction" or "Brown Sugar," but it does serve as a sort of musical mission statement for the Stones. What is it about this tune that stands out to you?

There seems to be a groove, a bounce, between Charlie and Keith, that to me is Stones perfection. Keith running that pure Chuck Berry drive shaft fueled on his entire musical life and near-deaths up to that point. Charlie is crisp and forceful; Bill fills those holes in a big, smooth way. It seems that Keith shifted his sound on this album. Maybe it was the drugs, the exhaustion, or the stress of the drugs and the exhaustion, but there is a dirty rumble and raw crunch to it. I don't know if it was to compensate for or complement Mick Taylor's methodical, lyrical sweetness but this is definitely a wall of Stones rhythm and a deep-dug crumbling dam of Keith. Jagger lives this song laid back, wired, nasty and swampy at the same time

"It's Only Rock and Roll" is a grand filthy anthem that blew my mind. It is creepy, beautiful, menacing and sexy to me. I believe the first time I encountered it was maybe on the Merv Griffin show when I was like 11 or 12, and the Stones were on the show in sailor suits playing the song and they did all this weird shit with the camera lenses -- fish eyed and moving around. It blew my little mind and planted some serious bad seeds and sexual weirdness in me.

Yeah, Keith's playing seems more fluid on this record, but not in a boring or languid way. The evolution of his playing is pretty wild to go back and listen to, but by this time he had really settled into a groove. Is this the Stones record, or era, you reach for most often?

No, I reach for the Beggars, Exile, Let it Bleed era first but lately I find myself reaching for this record and Love You Live. I do go back to Black and Blue occasionally and Some Girls. Rarely the early stuff, other than the very first album.

It has always seemed to me that, by the mid-'70s, a lot of Jagger's thing was contrived. Do you think there's a level of self-parody in "It's Only Rock and Roll," or is this one of the last few honest Jagger moments?

I don't think the Jagger thing was any more contrived on this album than it was anywhere else once he figured out what that thing was. I think it was just habit and style but the singing is great. I didn't get a sense that he was a self-parody until Some Girls, really. He sings the fuck out of this album and he sounds great. There are some GREAT Stones songs on this album -- as good as any other songs they ever wrote. "Till the Next Goodbye," "If you Really Want to Be My Friend," "Dance Little Sister," "Short and Curlies." Come on. 

Those are great tunes. I just put on Black and Blue recently and there's some stuff on there that I had forgotten about completely: "Hand of Fate," "Crazy Mama," "Fool to Cry." I sort of drift away from their catalog after Some Girls, as well. It's too hit-and-miss after that.

The Stones were always hit-and-miss. I mean, come on. They're not the fucking Beatles.

Yeah, that's true but, from Beggars to Exile is a pretty unbelievable creative run. It's 32 years of a few peaks and way too many valleys since Some Girls. Are the Stones a band that strikes you as still being capable of great work, or are they just a Brand now? Does it even matter at this point?

I think it is possible that between them there is another album there. I haven't cared about them in any real way since Bill stopped touring with them. I really stopped at Some Girls, though I like a couple of songs on Emotional Rescue and Tattoo You. I think if they stripped it all down and got back to what they were very early on sound-wise - a blues band - it would make for a great record. I think if they did a studio record along the lines of the El Mocambo disc of Love You Live it would be awesome - but a dream. They would have to let someone else produce it, they'd have to get Bill to give a shit about working again and Keef and Mick would have to get along. I think those obstacles are probably too big.

Kasey Anderson is a songwriter, singer, dog owner and bacon enthusiast from Portland, Oregon. His three albums, Dead Roses (2004), The Reckoning (2007), and Nowhere Nights (2010) have earned plenty of praise from critics (No Depression, USA Today, The Onion) but, unfortunately, have not as yet yielded the Swedish Fish endorsement Anderson so badly desires. If you’d like to have Kasey Anderson sing, play harmonica and strum a guitar at you, you’ll find him on tour all spring and summer (dates and info available at www.kaseyanderson.com), or if you’d simply like to read on as Anderson discusses various songs with other artists, writers, friends and cohorts, you’re in the right place.

At this point, the fact that Peter Case is one of the most important American songwriters of the last 30 years goes without saying. However, in my never-ending quest for superfluity, I just said it. And I'll say it again, but this time using different words. To attempt to classify Peter Case's songwriting, or quantify his impact on American rock ‘n' roll and roots music, would be an exercise in redundancy. Between his time fronting the Plimsouls (whose recently released Live: Beg, Borrow & Steal, recorded in 1981, finds the band in particularly blistering from) and his extensive solo catalog, Case's sphere of influence is damn near all-encompassing.

To that end, I can not think of a better way to kick off this series than to discuss songwriting - specifically, the songwriting of Bob Dylan and, more specifically, Dylan's tune "Jokerman" from the 1984 album Infidels - with Peter Case.

Do you remember the first time you heard the tune? I was pretty young when Infidels was released but, growing up, my dad would usually put on a Dylan record and then play me his favorite tune from each record. "Jokerman" was that tune from Infidels.

It was 1984 and I was still in the Plimsouls, but outside of a couple tours that year, we had wound down, and I was just knocking about, living alone in a tiny pad up in Laurel Canyon. (In the same cottage the Melvins eventually moved into, after I split!) I was writing songs for what was gonna be my first solo LP, and felt like I was on the moon, 'cause I was living at night, isolated, kinda living in my dreams and musical ideas, and I didn't have to show up anywhere or anything, it was woodshed time. It was a good time. I was 30 years old, freed up for the first time from a lot of things that had been bugging me.

So I picked up the new Dylan LP at Tower on Sunset, and took it straight back home, threw it on, and was completely transfixed by "Jokerman."

The first thing that got me about it was the Sly and Robbie groove, unlike anything I'd heard before; it's not rock or reggae either, but something new, very open. As usual with a Dylan record you hear every word. He delivers that very clearly.

On first listen the song hits you with a strong sense of life, of what it's like to be alive in the world at that moment, a sense of now. The complexity, color, seductive sensual lure, sense of danger, of freedom, of possibility that one feels in the world - call it the modern world - is all communicated so vividly, that the flash of recognition I felt upon hearing it, even though I had no reasonable idea what he was on about, gave me a rush of companionship. That's the first thing about the art of his songwriting, he wins you with the representation of what it's really like to be alive. And you feel that before you understand it.

I think "Like A Rolling Stone" did that for its time. And the song "Dignity" hit me with that kind of force, when I first heard it on the radio, and had to pull the car over. It's a hugely exciting thing. I'm not sure to this day that I could say I understand the song really. But I find it really moving.

The lines about ships, mist, snakes, glowing eyes... all were like kindling. I went up in flames when he hit: "freedom just around the corner for you / but with the truth so far off what good will it do?"

That's what I mean about him reflecting the true complexity of being alive, instead of the party line, which would be something like : "Gotta get free!" or "I'm free but with freedom comes responsibility." You know, "freedom: good!" I was in a period of my life when I felt a bit of freedom, but the nagging thoughts about the validity of what I was doing were unexpressed, kinda murkily swimming about in my mind, then presto! Dylan's said it, and I'm pushed into a new dimension of thought. All of this I just felt, though, on that first listen.

"So swiftly the sun sets in the sky," yeah especially if like me you're getting up in the afternoon and turning night into day. "You rise up and say goodbye to no one." Check. "Shedding off one more layer of skin, staying one step ahead of the persecutor within." He does it again with this one. Shedding off skin: sounds good, that's what I was trying to do; reinvent myself, renew my musical vision, evade the weights and mistakes of my past. "One step ahead of the persecutor." It was like he was reading my mind. I'd been feeling guilty for my impulse to ditch the band and go solo, though it seemed necessary from a purely artistic point of view. So, those lines hit me too.

As they would anybody I think, who was actively going through the kind of changes life threw on individuals at that time, which is still this time, by the way. The struggle of freedom, guilt, knowledge, power, foolishness, that we all experience.

The groove, the Sly & Robbie thing. Not to get too anthropological about it but I have always found White Guy Reggae and White Guy Blues to be really hollow and hokey, with a few exceptions - you and Dylan being two of them. What do you think it is that he taps into, and that you tapped into, that so many imitators can't get their heads and hands around?

White guy blues? Well, the first thing about that is, a white guy can't really be a blues singer now. I'm not sure there really can be any blues singers now, in the way there once were.

Bob Dylan uses roots music to tell his story, his way. That's what I try to do as well. But you have to know your limits. Dylan is the best at that, he's got that "bullshit detector" that lots of people talk about. It better be real or forget about it.

I grew up in a house when blues and jazz and early rock and roll were just coming out, and the records were constantly being played on our record player, and my sister and her friends (who were all about the same age as Dylan) were attempting to play the music, too, on piano and other instruments. And that 50's music was all blues-based, or country. And then there was Elvis, who I experienced as a three-year-old. He's the original white boy with the rockin' blues. I feel like he died for my honky ass, so I could sing any kind of music I can feel. He had the feeling on the Sun Records, and the early RCA, and I just soaked it up. Also the Everly's, Chuck Berry, Link Wray (the first heavy guitar), Ritchie Valens, Fats Domino, and Little Richard and Jerry Lee on TV. All of that is blues.

Then Dylan and the Stones, Beatles too, and I followed the streams and discovered Muddy Waters, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Carl Perkins, Buddy Holly, and I just loved all of that so much. And it got deeper from there. Howlin' Wolf, and Robert Johnson, McTell, Gary Davis, etc. I just loved it and listened endlessly. And kept trying to play and sing it, and I hated what I sounded like at 17, 18 years old, so young and white and reedy. It was embarrassing. The story of all this is in my book, As Far As You Can Get Without A Passport.

Somewhere in there it all opened up to me, but you still gotta keep a sense of humor, and the bullshit detector trained on yourself. Look out!

You gotta work to be yourself, sing through the influences.

I often wonder about Dylan's tunes - as many do, I'm sure - how much of himself does he put into the characters? Do you feel at all like this song is Dylan addressing Dylan?

"Jokerman," that's him singing about himself, and maybe about Jesus in verse three, and maybe about the silence of God at the end. But it's also anybody. The Fool, jokers trying to get serious (by that I mean living with their eyes open), not "asleep 'neath the stars with a small dog licking your face"; an image of a childish, maybe foolish sort, but also attractive in a way.. The nightingale's tune, is that like Keats' Nightingale, the Muse, or Imagination? Flying high by the moon, that is almost in the dark, moony, lunar, almost lunatic inspiration, like the sub conscious, or unconscious (I mix them up!) which it always seems like Dylan relies on. For example, he always insists the songs come "through him" and the creation of his early work had to do with "power and dominion over the spirits."

It does seem like he is singing, at least in part, about himself. And it's relevant to you and me, to the degree we want to apply it.

I love the notion of Dylan conveying clearly what it means to be alive. I've read a lot of criticism of his writing as cold, detached, esoteric, inaccessible, and I think that's just nonsense. What he does is tap into the most universal experiences and distill their complexity into one or two lines. Had you heard "Jokerman" ten years earlier or later, how drastically different would the impact have been?

Well, there's a great difference between his best work and his other stuff. "Jokerman" is one of his great songs, right in there with the best of the early work, and the best of the 70's. One of the things that makes it great is this really alive quality it has, which isn't present in some other songs. "Neighborhood Bully" doesn't have this kind of impact, whatever you think of its message. "Man Of Peace," likewise. I think "Union Sundown" is a great piece of work, but as a song lyric, though it's good, maybe someone else could have written it. He merely covers the subject. Another song like that, from a later album, is "Everything's Broken" from Oh Mercy. It's strong, complete, but not necessarily "Dylan-esque," in that it's not communicating that super-vivid and 360 degree sense of life, of what's it like to be alive at that moment. And when you hear the songs that have that quality, it's like a mirror, or a trick window. You almost feel as if you're looking through reality, getting a glimpse "behind the screen," and that's what makes it so valuable.

So some of it is cold, detached, etc., but people need to hear his great stuff. His Greatest Hits, Volume 3 is pretty powerful, for that reason.

If you don't get Bob Dylan, you don't get much, in my opinion. Complaints about his voice are a sure sign of ignorance of music and history. It's not a matter of taste. It's a matter of mind or not. I know as time goes on it may be harder for younger people to get in on, but it's worth trying to find the door in. A whole universe opens up.

A lot of it comes down to words. Can you relate to another mind, as related in language? Beyond the either/ors of binary choice: Democrat/Republican? Hot/Not? Young/Old? Yes/No on this or that issue? Pro choice/Pro-Life, etc. Talk about manipulation and dream twisting. The media are reducing everything to sound bites and pablum.

But we all know that. Sorry. The point is love of language.

Dylan comes into that spiritual and mental gridlock and makes entirely new roads through it, expresses true thoughts of a lightning mind, and we get a huge blast of energy from it. Which is why it's always Christmas when his records come out.

Kasey Anderson is a songwriter, singer, dog owner and bacon enthusiast from Portland, Oregon. His three albums, Dead Roses (2004), The Reckoning (2007), and Nowhere Nights (2010) have earned plenty of praise from critics (No Depression, USA Today, The Onion) but, unfortunately, have not as yet yielded the Swedish Fish endorsement Anderson so badly desires. If you’d like to have Kasey Anderson sing, play harmonica and strum a guitar at you, you’ll find him on tour all spring and summer (dates and info available at www.kaseyanderson.com), or if you’d simply like to read on as Anderson discusses various songs with other artists, writers, friends and cohorts, you’re in the right place.

Mixing It Up with Adrian Quesada

By Carl Hanni

The world is full of musical multitaskers, but by most any standards Adrian Quesada is an unusually busy and productive guy. I'm aware of four ongoing acts that he splits his time between: his main band Grupo Fantasma, who won a Grammy Award in 2011 for their record El Existential; the Latin funk combo Brownout, who share numerous members with Grupo Fantasma; Ocote Soul Sounds, who he co-leads with Martin Perna from Antibalas; and his own project The Echocentrics, who recently released their second album, the digital-only Echoland, a tribute to the hip hop producer Timbaland. Just hot off the presses is a brand new CD by Brownout, Oozy. 

And it hardly stops there: Adrian also runs Level One Studios is Austin, Texas, where he and Grupo Fantasma call home. Recent projects there includes work on a new EP by Daniel Johnston; remixes of two tracks by ‘70s hit-makers Chicago, one of which ("Saturday in the Park") has been licensed for the hit TV series Breaking Bad; and an upcoming record by cinematic soul guy Adrian Younge. He has done remixes for fellow Austin multitasker Graham Reynolds of Golden Arm Trio/Golden Hornet project fame, and mixed the CD Pussyfooting by Foot Patrol, a nasty slice of retro ‘80s synth funk dedicated to foot fetishists. He's done soundtrack/score work for the documentary films Inside The Circle and The Least of These. His music has been featured on HBO, Showtime and MTV.

Oh, and Grupo Fantasma were tapped by Prince to back him up for a series high profile shows. I could write all day about the incredibly groovy stuff that Grupo Fantasma has done (backing up everyone from Larry Harlow from the Fania All-Stars to Maceo Parker, TV work, etc.), but what I'm really concerned with here is the big picture on Adrian Quesada.

All of Quesada's acts reflect different parts of his wide, inclusive musical vision, but they are also all stamped with his innate attention to musical detail, bracingly high production quality and seemingly incredible ease with which he blends, mixes and matches various styles and genres. Although all unique, with Quesada as producer (or co-producer) each of the projects share variations on a certain clean, rich and sexy sound boasting pristine-but-ballsy grooves and fabulous separation in the mix.

Grupo Fantasma's mix of modern Latin funk, cumbia, spaghetti Western jams, rock/pop and whatever else they choose is some of the most delightfully accessible music (as in commercially viable) produced in the last decade. Brownout opt for a more overtly funky sound, but one infused with numerous Latin influences, from mariachi to cumbia to rock and soul. Ocote Soul Sounds blend Martin Perna's Afrobeat tendencies with Quesada's pan-Latin wide net into a fully intoxicating melange that moves from ambient sounds to orchestral synth music to full fledged AfroLatin funk; on their last album, 2011's Taurus, Eric Hilton from Thievery Corporation (the group records for Thievery Corp's label, the progressive leaning ESL Music) was added in as one of three producers along with Perna and Quesada, lending his gift for rich downtempo grooves to the proceedings. Echocentrics mixes Latin pop, experimental tangents and hip hop technology into unpredictable and surprising combinations. 

Over five CDs by Grupo Fantasma and Ocote Soul Sounds, three by Brownout (+ a limited edition remix CD) and two by Echocentrics (including the new, digital only EP), Adrian Quesada has created a body of work that stands with anyone's from the last ten years. 

He recently answered some questions for BLURT and Sonic Reducer.

BLURT: We're you raised in a musical environment? Were there music and/or musicians around your house growing up?

My parents listened to some music, but I wouldn't say it was a particularly musical environment. There were NO musicians around my house, no instruments, singing or dancing. There seems to be more music around my dad's house nowadays, with singing and festivities, but as a child not really.

How and where did you learn your way around a studio, record production, mixing and re-mixing, etc.?

My interest in recording began as it does with most studiophiles, with a 4 track cassette recorder in high school. I was obsessed with it when I first got it, and to go back even further I remember being in 7th or 8th grade and getting a little Casio where you could record little snippets and play drum patterns and trying to recreate NWA beats. 

        From the 4 track (which continued into my college years) I moved into production and beat programming on an MPC 2000 and worked my way up to a Roland Hard Disk recorder and eventually into GarageBand on a Mac, which naturally led to Logic. Fast forward to now and I've been working in studios for fifteen years, the first few mainly as an observer as my bands were recording, but a few years into it I really got immersed and fell in love with working in studios and the art of making a record. And the most important thing for me has really been trial and error. There is no right/wrong in recording, mess around, study the past and find out what works for you and your ears.

All of your records always have an incredibly high production quality. Do you have any particular philosophy and approach that you apply to all of your productions, mixes, etc.?

I think my only philosophy is to make a great ALBUM out of something. It seems with the onslaught of digital information, our attention spans have gotten really short and people listen to things on shuffle or listen to one song they downloaded or DJs play short snippets of songs but I used to love to come home with an album and make it an experience....every part of it was special to me - from opening the packaging, starting at a cover, reading credits and sitting down and listening to the WHOLE thing from start to finish. That's really the most important thing for me, as for production and mixes, obviously I lean towards the sounds of the 60s/70s but everything is fair game really, whatever works for my ears.

Can you tell us a bit about the new Echocentrics release and how it came together?

Sat down one day after a bit of writers block and thought I'd do a cover song as an exercise....shuffled through a bunch of music and somehow figured Timbaland would be the most challenging as it's not as obvious as say George Harrison or Morricone or something which lends itself to the instrumentation. One turned into another and I thought that'd be a fun theme, Timbaland has always been one of my favorite producers and because of his association with some pop I think he gets overlooked in an artistic sense. To me he's like a modern day Phil Spector or Norman Whitfield, someone who makes pop (and some awesome hip hop) super out there and interesting.  

Grupo Fantasma won a Grammy Award in 2011 for 'Best Latin Rock Alternative or Urban Album.' How has that changed things for the band since then?

Not much if at all, honestly. It's just something they use to announce us now.

Ocote Soul Sounds releases stuff on Thievery Corporation's label, ESL. What sort of doors has that relationship opened up for you? Do you have any more projects in the works with Thievery Corporation?

Thievery and ESL have been super great and generous with us and very supportive from the early days. We've toured with them and Eric Hilton helped us produce our last Ocote Soul Sounds album. The whole DC crew is great.  

I recently noticed that you were the producer on the CD Pussyfooting by Foot Patrol, an album dedicated to foot fetish funk. That's an outrageously funky record, in a mid-80s sort of way. What's the story on that release?

I actually only helped them mix the record, didn't produce it. I've been friends with a few of them for years and they asked me to mix the record a couple of years ago and sent me a few songs which I loved. It was a challenge for me because of the 80s production aesthetic which I enjoy listening to but don't ever really attempt, that made it a lot of fun as it took me out of my comfort zone. The record was recorded in different studios over a long period of time and song to song often differed on production aesthetic and that's actually something I've been very used to working with as several of my bands' albums have been done like that and you face the challenge of making the record cohesive. 

How did you come to do remixes with Graham Reynolds and Golden Arm Trio?

Graham's an old friend of mine from my first band in Austin, Blue Noise Band. We used to do shows with him often even once did a legendary Golden Arm Trio vs. Blue Noise Band show where we played their music and they played ours. He emailed me about it out of the blue.  

Can you talk a bit about the genesis and going-ons at Level One Studios? What have you been working on there lately?

Been doing informal recording and production sessions out of my home studio for years, decided to make it official, boutique yet also somewhat portable, basically LOS is just the name for my productions, I move around to different studios in Austin that I love quite a bit - Big Orange, Wire Recording, Public Hifi, EAR, etc. etc. but generally always finish production at my home spot. Lately - just finished an EP for Daniel Johnston, doing some stuff with David Garza, Echocentrics vocalist Natalia Clavier's solo album, Funk Ark's record from DC which I produced last year just came out, a collaboration with Adrian Younge from LA, some friends called Baby Atlas, new Echocentrics material, etc. etc. Some other cool stuff I'll reveal later....May also be doing some stuff with some Tucson folks soon I hope!

How did Grupo Fantasma get to play with Prince?

Our old manager knew someone who used to work with Prince and mentioned his club in Vegas at the time, 3121. We sent a copy of our live album, next thing we know we're playing there on Thanksgiving, then the house band, so on and so forth.  

There you have it. Adrian Quesada, multitasking away on numerous parallel tracks, always with his eye and ear on the good groove.

Also see:

http://levelonestudiosatx.com/

http://grupofantasma.com/

http://ocotesoul.com/ocotesoulsounds/

http://brownoutmusic.tumblr.com/

http://echocentrics.tumblr.com/

***

Carl Hanni is a music writer, music publicist, DJ, disc jockey, book hound and vinyl archivist living in Tucson, AZ. He hosts "The B-Side" program on KXCI (broadcast and streamed live on Tuesday nights 10-12 pm at KXCI.org) and spins records around Southern Arizona on a regular basis. He currently writes for Blurt and Tucson Weekly.

[Photo Credit: John Speice]

From File Clerk to CEO-or My Dinner with the Georgetown 5.

By  Steven Lorber

(Just call me Willie)

-----------THE PORKYS NATIONAL ANTHEM-------

It's a hard world to get a break in
All the good things have been taken
But girl there are ways
To make certain things pay
Though I'm dressed in these rags
I'll wear sable
Someday
Hear what I say
I'm gonna ride the serpent
No more time spent
Sweatin' rent
Hear my command
I'm breakin' loose
It ain't no use
Holdin' me down
Stick around

But baby, but baby
Remember, remember
It's my life and I'll do what I want
It's my mind and I'll think what I want
Show me I'm wrong, hurt me sometime
But some day, I'll treat you real fine

                                     "It's My Life" - The Animals

I have recently joined the ranks of the unemployed. Not by choice, but rather the all too familiar corporate heave ho. Yes I enjoyed the requisite pity party, the Muslim breast beating ritual (minus the razors)-the Buddhist meditation which ended with a non-directed fuck you; and so, I was back where I started. Déjà vu- -or what I call-the Peter Sellers Syndrome.  I dusted off the mantle, the nameplate, and the web site of the once great Metro Music. Yes the business where I was the King- and the King was I. The challenge that now stood before me was; could I resurrect a vinyl business in a digital world and achieve greatness as I had done 15 years before?? The world had changed in my absence. What kind of bizarro universe was I entering where 10,000 songs can be had for nothing; stored on a disc the size of a pinhead. Music that could be ripped sampled trampled mixed doctored downloaded and served up fresh on an I-pod/cell phone/I-pad-the cloud?!!. Would I be able to meet this Herculean challenge?? Could I bring some semblance of sanity to a world gone mad!! Once again I was at the crossroads-"hello darkness my old friend"!!  Just as the Green Lantern-summoned his strength-"On the darkest day in the darkest night-no evil shall escape my sight"-I called on the Gods of Porkydom-Barney Fife/Harvey Pekar/Sgt.Bilko/Captain Kangaroo/Ed Grimley-Give me strength my friends-breathe life into my soul so that I may soldier on-and show the world that a vinyl record-is your friend-its there to comfort you-to inspire you, and to love you. And so it became, I, Steven Lorber, went from file clerk to CEO of Metro Music.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that these recent events triggered the inevitable 19th Nervous Breakdown-the rush to the doctor for more powerful drugs and the spiritual questioning/self loathing inherent in this porkys genetic makeup. I spent my days making friends at the local Dunkin Doughnuts emporium drinking way to much coffee and convincing myself that "Their Satanic Majesties Request," was light years ahead of Sgt. Pepper (2000 in fact). Strangely enough no matter what psychotic roller coaster my mind seemed to take-I kept coming back to the question of education. My education. Had I received my degree in 1975, as I should have-what would my life have been like???. You see I had a small difference of opinion with Mr. John Carroll and -thus I engaged in a 25-year war with the almighty Georgetown. The epic David & Goliath battle ended in august 2000 as the bruised and battered giant awarded this belligerent porky his cherished BSFS degree.

In the process of getting the Metro Music office ready for business I couldn't stop thinking as to how I arrived at this place in my life. -  58 and starting all over again? Had I even started??? What had I really done? ---  "Who knows where the time goes"? /"Time has come today-Time in a bottle-The time and the place-Love me two times-Summertime-Time wont let me be-Time is on my side-Time of the Season- Tea Time (won't be the same without my Donna)``."

 It was a sunny day in June-after returning from DD and trying to put my office in order I came across an unmarked file filled with letters documenting my 25-year war.  I marveled at the gall, the tone and the slightly pathetic nature of my letters. How they must have dreaded receiving my letters with the never ending cajoling, begging demanding; imploring, beseeching, requesting and petitioning. Who said you cannot petition the Lord with Prayer??!!. After a cursory examination-I concluded that I'm a pretty damn good beggar! And why not-Hell I'm not that proud, I spent my whole life begging for grades, begging for sex and begging God to forgive me. Amongst the mountain of documents I was sorting for posterity one caught my attention. It was a one-page transcript with my class rank. - Steven Lorber Class Rank 350 of 0355.  Yes I actually finished higher than 5 other people. The days went on and I kept thinking who are these 5 people? How was I able to finish ahead of them?? Well I decided to find out. It was just my luck that I had a connection with a girl who worked in the GU admissions office. With the requisite begging and bribery I tracked down my fellow low ranking Georgetown comrades. After the perfunctory introductory e-mail, I sent them all an official invitation to come back to DC to enjoy a dinner and pay homage to each other as we would examine our lives and our connection as the bottom 6 graduates in the class of 2000.

Feeling smug, anxious, excited, and nervous-I went to greet my fellow travelers at the world famous Willard hotel on the designated night of November 12, "A day that will live in...There was Thomas Bergeron, Sheridan Fawnstock, Susan Emerson, Sean Driscoll and Cynthia O'Connell. I hosted this Dinner in one of the Willard's private banquet halls. It was my dream that this magical meeting-this dinner -would help me realize my station in life. Secretly I was hoping that this special event-this meeting of the minds would confirm my superiority. Arrogant? Absolutely! Insecurity is the defining genetic marker of all porkys.  It drives us to beg, borrow or steal any morsel of praise, encouragement and acceptance being offered.

As we sat down at the dinner table-our private waiter poured the wine. Sheridan suggested we all introduce ourselves and give a brief description of our professions. Sheridan Fawnstock started out explaining that after a few false starts he followed the path of his degree right to the state department. Stamping passports in Burundi eventually led to an appointment by George Bush to be the American Ambassador to Nigeria. Thomas Bergeron then went on to explain after a series of dead end jobs he went for masters in accounting and was now heads the international division at PRICE WATERHOUSE. . Cynthia O'Connell went to Georgetown's nursing school and is now the Head of the Nursing dept at Bellevue Hospital in NYC. Sean Driscoll went to open a successful line of department stores in the Midwest. And Susan Emerson became a well known social worker in Maryland spearheading the Martha's Table Homeless shelters throughout the tri state area.

I immediately realized I stepped into a big pile of do do. The Georgetown 5 were major success stories. Listening to my peers brought me to panic attack mode. My stomach flew to my brain. -My brain tried to exit my head. The elevator that was me was in free fall. When it came to my turn, I had to pinch my leg to pull it together, "Well I worked briefly as a paralegal for a prestigious law firm and then after a difference of opinion-I started a record business selling vinyl, press kits, posters, buttons, cassettes...it's a good business with international appeal I provide......People like to touch and hold records....it's tactile-it's an art object.. It gives pleasure.....Everyone's a collector-you've seen the TV show Pickers...no not Hoarders ..Pickers.... My worst fears materialized-I saw that glazed look in their eyes-a look I knew so well. Before I even finished, I morphed into the mentally challenged child at the holiday dinner. I was "lather."

The nights one piece of good luck presented itself when the waiter interrupted my bumbling announcing dinner would be served shortly. I did my best to curb my conversation; use the knife and fork properly, napkin on lap and no nose picking. I went out of my way to be polite, gracious and cultured. Halfway through the evening I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I popped an adderoll to focus and a Valium to relax. I took a few minutes to pull myself together, engaged in some chanting and entertained nostalgic memories about Quaaludes.  As the evening came to a close Cynthia suggested we all describe our greatest success or achievement.  Sheridan started off saying how he brought two warring African tribes together and brokered a peace where there had been horrific genocide. Thomas proudly described how he instituted the Price Waterhouse college fund, which gives out $500,000 a year in scholarship money to needy students. Cynthia heads the nursing staff for doctors without borders. Sean makes it a point to hire 25% of his work force from minorities and the disenfranchised population. Susan worked on the Presidents task force for Welfare Reform.  Then it was my turn---I'm not sure why-perhaps the Valium, but I felt strangely comfortable with my level of achievement

"Well um I worked on the Grammy's-well not really... I did win this contest at a record show here in Arbutus Maryland were I was able to piece together a story using Beatle song Titles.. not a simple feat mind you! -Here let me show you." Do you wanna know a secret?  She was a day tripper, with a ticket to ride. She said She Said, you're a loser a nowhere man-yes I'm down-but I'll be back-I should have known better-help, its been a hard days night but its getting better all the time-everyone is trying to be my baby....I don't want to spoil the Party...

Just as I was hitting my stride my compadres got up and briskly left the banquet room. I was alone rapping "for no one". The GU 5 were now hurriedly walking down the long corridor towards the exit exchanging phone numbers shaking hands and making promises to keep in touch. How could this be happening to me, this nightmare -this meltdown-- a nuclear holocaust-a turned down day.

Then a force took hold of me; from where I have no idea-and with the speed of a vampire from Bon Temps-I flew past the GU five; fell to my knees, blocked their path and with my hands stretched out to the heavens- I pleaded.

"I'm just a fool whose intentions are good oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood."

The above excerpt is from the Author's New Book, "Song Titles are My Life." Due for Publication early next year.

D.Y.S.

By John B. Moore

As part of the legendary "Boston Crew," the highly influential 1980's hardcore scene that also included bands like Jerry's Kids, Gang Green and Negative FX, D.Y.S. provided an East Coast alternative to the slew of Cali bands that were dominating punk zines at the time.

Though their initial sound was pretty simpatico with their peers, the band ultimately broke through the hardcore clutter and committed an unwritten taboo at the time with their self-titled second record, by changing their tuning and mixing in metal influences creating a new sound. While that thrash influenced punk rock has become fairly standard with today's metal core bands, in 1984 it was unheard of and caused chaos in the Boston scene, pissing off a lot of punk rockers that, ironically, had become very rules-focused in their scene.          

That record was the swan song for the band for the next couple of decades, with co-founders Dave Smalley and Jonathan Anastas moving on to play in a number of other punk bands including Dag Nasty, Slapshot, ALL and Down By Law.

A reunion in 2010 seemed to rekindle something in the band. Smalley and Anastas, who had remained close throughout the years, put together a new line that included Franz Stahl, from the legendary D.C. band Scream, Powerman 5000's Al Pahanish, Jr. and Adam Porris, formerly with Far From Finished.

The band, now signed to Boston-based Bridge 9 Records (appropriately enough), are in the middle of a musical experiment, releasing a single a month for 12 months and playing live when they can. Smalley and Anastas spoke recently about the break up, the reunion and why metal pissed off some many skinheads in the 80's.  

What was it that finally got the band to reunite? 

 Smalley: The motivating factors for a D.Y.S. reunion were actually the best reasons of all: friendship and loyalty. Those are two of the most important qualities in life, you know.  We had been asked many times to do something and it hadn't been right, for whatever reason.  But when two of our friends from back in the day in Boston - Duane Lucia from Gallery East, where D.Y.S. played some wicked shows and Drew Stone from the Mighty COs and Antidote - were making a film about the Boston hardcore scene, and asked us to headline a show to help them to promote their documentary, we all instantly said we would be glad to help. That was one of the best things about the Boston crew, the loyalty and mutual help we would give each other, whether it was in the pit or in a fight or whatever. And it was really, really good to see each other again. And while I think honestly it sounded rusty as hell at the beginning, it gelled surprisingly quickly, which is a tribute to those players.

        One of the things that struck me during rehearsals was how D.Y.S. had become a complicated band in terms of song structures, the second album stuff. Not freeform jazz oD.Y.S.sey weird, but on some songs, unique arrangements and lines per verse, that kind of thing. So it was interesting to rehearse these songs and see them in a new light, and actually tweak a few of them here and there. And then when we played the big show with all our friends there, and it honestly sounded really powerful, it seemed really a bummer to not play together again. So we kept the torch lit instead of dousing it without reason. So it has been very musically honest.

Had you all stayed in contact since splitting up?

Smalley: Jonathan (Anastas) and I have been friends since 1981. So that's a great bond and we always keep each other posted on life and love and rock. And he is really good at staying knowledgeable about where people are. I'd had occasional contact with the other guys too, but he really made it all happen. There has to be friendship or a band won't have a certain kind of spark and chemistry. D.Y.S. always had that.

Franz, Al (Pahanish, Jr., Powerman 5000) and Adam (Porris, Far From Finished) are now part of the lineup. How did they get involved?

Anastas: For our initial reunion, Ross Luongo (our original lead guitar player) had already been playing in a band with Bobbie and Jack called Automatic.  The three of them had great musical interplay.  Leveraging that into what we thought would be a one-off D.Y.S. reunion show and movie shoot made a lot of sense and you can hear the power of that line-up on our Bridge Nine live album More than Fashion: Live from the Gallery East Reunion.  Almost immediately after the show, Ross got transferred to the UK as part of his work so that specific chemistry changed. As the future plans for D.Y.S. became more ambitious, it was clear that we needed players with a closer geography and the time to write, record, tour, etc. I had known drummer Al Pahanish Jr. since DreamWorks relocated his old band - Powerman 5000 - to L.A. from Boston and I had a ton of respect for his playing.  Dave and I had also recorded with Al on a sort of (still unreleased) "punk rock supergroup" project (Dave on vocals, Jamie Sciarappa from SSD on bass, Al on drums, I played rhythm guitar and Johnny Rock from the Boston Band Half Cocked played lead guitar) and we were impressed even more.  D.Y.S. and Franz's band Scream go all the way back to early hardcore together.  After many years of being out of touch, it turned out that Franz and his family lived in the same neighborhood in the Hollywood Hills that I did and we became close socially.  I had been looking for a way to play music with Franz for a long time.  Adam - like Al - went to Berklee School of music in Boston and has amazing chops.  Right after we met, I searched on YouTube for his work with Far From Finished and was impressed by this young kid who had a real confidence on stage.  His leads were like a young Billy Duffy where he'd just naturally take two steps to the spotlight and dig into that Les Paul. I'm clearly the weak link musically, and those three guys have upped the game on the new songs - and the old ones - more than I ever imagined.  

When you played those reunion shows in 2010, did you know at the time you were going to write new music or did that evolve over time?

Smalley: Well, as I said, it was only a one-off thing, but the show was so powerful, and the reactions so strong, and the emotional feeling onstage was so real, that when it was done, it seemed crazy to let that not take root and grow. I don't think we had specific plans, like "let's rehearse next Tuesday" or whatever, but it was more like "that was amazing, let's see if anything else happens."Then our friends in the Bosstones (Dickey Barret was and forever will be a cherished member of the original Wolfpack and of the Boston Crew; he drew the first D.Y.S. album cover) asked us to play with them at the House of Blues in Boston, we said sure and really enjoyed that. Then we got asked to play in New York, and it just started taking off from there and musically we got tighter and tighter, plus Jonathan gave me some lyrics - to songs like "Wild Card", "Sound of Our Town" and "Unloaded" among others - that are just great. I wrote some music for them and they came out with their own sound. I didn't try to make it hardcore, or make it metal, or punk or whatever, I just wrote what I thought the lyrics were demanding. It was a very honest and organic and powerful process. D.Y.S. was never afraid to break musical walls.  We're a punk rock band that will always be hardcore and metal influenced, and will always have it be heavy and powerful.

So why do a single a month vs. just putting out a traditional full length?

Anastas: The music business has clearly changed in the last 10 years and that's changed how fans want and consume their content.  Fan's desire for physical albums has been largely replaced by a singles mentality.   It's been a long time since D.Y.S. was last an active band, and it was important to re-introduce ourselves in the language of today. Monthly singles also give us a chance to stay in the musical conversation over a longer period of time, versus the old-school "album cycle."  It's also been fun to create so many images, one for each song, rather than just one album cover. That said we do plan to release all the new music into a collection - in both digital and physical formats - at some point in 2012.

For the singles project do you already have the songs written and recorded or are you doing it as you go along, month by month?

Anastas: We're sort of mixing those two ideas.  We recorded basic tracks for the first five songs over the course of a couple weekends in late 2011. Since then, we've been adding one or two songs each time the whole band is together in Los Angeles. The way we write these days is I start with lyrics and send them to Dave. He writes the basic song structures, vocal melodies, etc.  Then he brings them to LA and the band polishes those frameworks up collaboratively in rehearsal spaces and the studio.  Our producer, Mudrock, has a strong voice in the final versions we record.  He's really a legend with all kinds of heavy music and also shares that Boston music history with us.

D.Y.S. is obviously known for being one of the first hardcore bands to add a strong metal influence to your sound- which is actually the norm now. Were you surprised at all how some people reacted negatively to that? 

Anastas: At the time, we were simply striving to play the music in our heads, our version of the music that was influencing our own lives, our friends, the other bands we knew.  All our peers were evolving in the same direction.  And, living in that bubble, we didn't see the backlash coming. In hindsight, that negative reaction makes sense.  Hardcore felt special to the community, something unique and pure that they owned.  I'm sure it was surprising and troubling to see the bands they love head into a different musical direction, something they thought was more commercial. And we gave them a lot to react against.  In one fell swoop, we de-tuned to drop D, a metal tuning; Dave sang a full octave higher.  Songs went from (a minute and a half) to six minutes, they had multiple solos. The record had digital drum samples on it. We even recorded a power ballad.  It was a huge shift to take place in one release. However, their perception that this move to Metal was a "sell-out" or a move to get cash wasn't true.  We were simply as inspired by this new sound as we were the first time we heard punk or hardcore.  Hardcore had ironically become as rigid, as much of a formula as the music it initially rebelled against.  And we were straining against the limitations of the genre. When we first met Metallica, they were living as DIY, as hand to mouth as any punk band we knew.  And when we first saw them live, damn, it was powerful, powerful stuff, as angry and as aggressive as hardcore, but with way more chops and one would argue more power. And that backlash and sense of rigid scenes cut both ways.  A record executive told us flat out "you can't look like this and play metal, you need to wear spandex and studs or you need to go back to playing hardcore."  We didn't fit in either world. Of course, as you point out, that changed. From the Cro Mags to the later Victory bands like Earth Crisis, the sound we tried on first really did become the kicker that helped hardcore "break" in the 90s.  By that time, D.Y.S. was long gone.

So what's next for the band?

Smalley: I think just to keep producing new stuff, playing in front of as many people as possible, keep the creativity and the power strong. And always do it honestly. I love playing with Al, Franz and Adam, and really respect them as people and musicians. And I'm so appreciative of the reactions from our old and new fans. So it's going to be something that continues to grow. The future is unwritten for everyone in life, but it should always include an electric guitar, raging drums, thundering bass and a heartfelt scream.