Robert Quine- Early Recordings: Bruce's Farm (1969)

Robert Quine in a rare photo without his sunglasses.

Quine's autograph, for you handwriting analysis freaks.

These are the earliest known recordings of Robert Quine playing guitar. A tape of him playing bass in a band called the Counterpoints exists, but he would never play it for me because the sax player (who had played on the Caps' classic Red Headed Flea on White Star) didn't show up the night of the gig that was taped and Quine hated the tape. These tunes were recorded in May, 1969 when Quine was a member of a band called Bruce's Farm. The other members were Barry Silverblatt- guitar/lead vocals, Rick Davis- bass/vocals and Bob Clark- drums. Quine is playing guitar and singing harmony. Here's one of the originals-- Backwards. The other original is simply called Blues and is your basic twelve bar blues instrumental with a wild guitar break from Quine. The other twenty songs on the tape are covers of fairly well known tunes-- Elvis, Beatles, Stones, Dylan, Hendrix, Kinks, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins are all represented as well as a cool rendition of the Fiestas' So Fine (done in three part disharmony) along four Byrds covers (Quine loved the Byrds). Here are some highlights-- Satisfaction, Feel A Whole Lot Better, Where Have All The Good Times Gone (that's Quine singing lead on the Kinks cover, I think he sings it better than Bowie did), Blueberry Hill, Walk Away Renee, Revolution, Eight Miles High, and Why. I'll be posting the other elven tunes in the near future. The sound quality is a bit dodgy, there are some drop outs, static, etc. but that's to be expected from a cassette recording of a gig from forty one years ago. To my ears, the most astounding thing is that you can hear just how much Quine had already developed his unique style by '69. The only real difference is the heavy use of the wah wah pedal on some tunes. I believe this is the tape Quine played for Richard Hell when they first talked about putting the Voidoids together. It came to me from Barry Silverblatt who was the leader of the band and can be heard playing guitar and doing most of the singing. Barry and Quine kept in touch over the years, they talked nearly every week until the end of Quine's life. You can hear Barry's voice on the Velvet Underground Quine Tapes box set. If you listen closely when Lou announces from the stage that Sister Ray "is gonna go on for awhile", you hear him laugh and mumble something to Quine (it's the version of Sister Ray recorded in St. Louis). If you haven't already, you can read my recollections of a 25 year friendship with Quine here. For the last recordings Quine made before his (I believe assisted) 2004 suicide, click here. It's almost seven years since Quine took a powder, and not a day goes by when I don't think of him.

Getting back to the music, from this tape we can see that Quine's style changed more in the last year of his life (when he switched from the Stratocaster to the Telecaster and stopped using the whammy bar) than it had in the previous thirty years. Historically, this tape is a real gem, thanks Barry, you too are a gem. In my first Quine posting I talk about a band Quine told me he had in St. Louis called the Garbage Vendors. Barry, who knew Quine from that time assures me that Quine was yanking my crank with that one. Now that I think about it, it makes sense. Although he did show me picture of himself with three black guys, there were no instruments or anything in the shot, they could have been anyone. I'd love to believe that story, but the more I think about it, the more it sounds like it was made up especially for my ears.

BTW, Quine's cousin Tim Quine has a blog-- Rubber City Review which has a posting about Quine up this week.

Quine

With Lou Reed at the Bottom Line, '84 one of his last shows w/Lou

Checking out the box of 45's, Hangover Hop, '92, Brownies.

Me, Jeremy Tepper and Quine, Hangover Hop, '92. (photos by Michael Macioce) It's very hard to write about Robert Quine. Quine, (nobody, not even his wife or mother called him by his first name) was the best and most original guitar player of his generation, and the best player in New York City since Mickey Baker (one of his heroes). Quine was born in Akron, Ohio, in 1942, and discovered rock'n'roll in the mid-50's, catching the Caps' (of Red Headed Flea) fame at the Fair Lawn Bowling Lanes in 1956. He saw Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly in '57. He bought the Johnny Burnette Trio LP when it came out in '58 (I have his copy now, one of my most treasured possessions). He soon got a guitar and learned to play listening to I'm Jimmy Reed, Rockin' With Reed, and lots of Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley records. He joined a band called the Counterpoints (with the sax player from the Caps) in which he played bass. A tape exists but Quine refused to ever play it for me because the sax player didn't show that night. He refused to do the dance steps, or modulate the key during the cover of Duane Eddy's "Rebel Rouser"-- a man of principles even then. His family was rather wealthy and owned a factory that manufactured some sort of industrial parts. I forgot what they were exactly. His uncle was the philosopher Willard Van Orman Quine.

He went to college, and then law school in St. Louis, where he led a mixed race group called the Garbage Vendors, playing guitar and rack harp like Jimmy Reed. He also had a blues radio show on the college station, his theme song was John Lee Hooker's "Hoogie Oogie". While at school the CIA attempted to recruit him into "the company". After law school (he took a law degree, passed the bar in California and New York but never practiced law) Quine moved to San Francisco where he attempted to join or form a band, however his short hair and straight appearance worked against him. He did see and tape the Velvet Underground in both St. Louis and Frisco and the best parts of those tapes where issued in 2003 by Polydor as a three cd box called The Quine Tapes. He first met Lou Reed in Frisco at the Matrix Club, bonding over their mutual admiration of Roger McGuin's guitar playing. Quine moved to Brooklyn in 1973 and friends attempted to get him a job playing with Art Garfunkel who punched Quine in the snout when Quine exclaimed "I thought Simon & Garfunkel were for people too dumb for Bob Dylan". He moved to Manhattan, and settled in a tiny apartment on St. Marks Place, downstairs from former Modern Lovers drummer and Viet Nam vet Bob Turner. He worked writing articles for a law journal and briefly at the bookstore Cinemabelia where he first met Richard Meyers nee' Hell. I think those were the only two real jobs he ever had. It was Hell who had been an original member of Television and the Heartbreakers who gave Quine his first national exposure, building his band The Voidoids around Quine. Here's a live version of "You Gotta Lose" (Hell was a better speller than the rest of the Heartbreakers who issued their first single "Born To Lose" as "Born Too Loose"). Notice Quine's solo quotes the solo on Jack Scott's "Baby She's Gone". Here's their version of CCR's "Walk On The Water". He stayed with the Voidoids for two albums (although the recent re-issue of Destiny Street has Quine's guitar parts erased and re-recorded by Marc Ribot and Bill Frissell) and a non-LP 45 (this is the b-side) and two European tours and when the band dissolved he was hired by Lou Reed on the recommendation of Reed's then wife and manager Sylvia. Quine gives a hilarious recalling of Reed checking out his playing at CBGB in Gillian McCain and Legs McNeil's Please Kill Me (Grove, 1996), Reed threatened to punch him in the face. Quine played with Reed on his best solo albums The Blue Mask and Live In Italy (where they played while being teargassed), most of his guitar parts on Legendary Hearts where mixed so low as to be inaudible. After Reed fired him he did session work with Marianne Faithful, Lydia Lunch (Queen Of Siam, her best) Tom Waits (Swordfish Trombone where Keith Richards' overdubbed parts play off of Quine's basic tracks), Mathew Sweet, John Zorn and many others. He produced Teenage Jesus & the Jerks first recordings. Quine recorded two duet albums, the first and best Escape with Jody Harris (of the Contortions and Raybeats) takes all its song titles from Three Stooges movies. The second, with Fred Maher- Basic is a collection of basic rhythm tracks with no solos. Quine loved weird chords and odd voicings, and this record is better for practicing guitar to than listening. I first met Quine the day I moved to New York City, May 1977. I was staying in a loft in a basement on Warren St. (pre-Tribeca) called The Home For Teenage Dirt. It's inhabitants were Lydia Lunch, Miriam Linna, the utterly crazed Bradley Field, Phast Phreddie Paterson (visiting from L .A.) and Todd Abramson (owner of Maxwells, he had arrived about an hour before me). It was also the Cramps rehearsal space. Jody Harris was the only other resident on the block and the Contortions, Richard Hell & the Voidoids, the Erasers, and other bands practiced at his place. I went outside to have a cigarette and Quine came walking down the street with Lester Bangs and Richard Hell, both whom I already knew a bit via phone. It took about four years of bumping into each other over the oldies and rockabilly bins at record stores but eventually (I think around '83) we exchanged cassette tapes from our 45 collections and soon we were fast friends, we talked on the phone nearly every day and made a ritual of Saturday dinner in Chinatown which lasted for decades (except when he was mad at me, he could freak out over the slightest thing, although he'd always eventually apologize and give me some treasure from his record collection as penance). He was one of the funniest motherfuckers I've ever met. He loved to use the word "little" as a term of condensation i.e. "I saw your little friend at the guitar store today....". He would make a noise from the back of his throat like a chipmunk being stepped on that always drew strange looks from women. He was heavily into handwriting analysis and could spot a nut, liar, or thief via their penmanship. I always showed him handwriting samples from whatever girl I was dating, and he was always dead on even if he had never met them. The few times I ignored his warnings I would live to regret it. We turned each other onto a lot of great music, the one he kept coming back to was Robert Wilson & the Groovers' "Cranberry Blues" because it reminded him of Thanksgiving 1957 when all cranberries were recalled for some reason. I didn't know much about jazz and he turned me onto Charlie Parker, Charlie Christian, Lester Young, and Miles Davis among others. He made me a 120 minute cassette of electric Miles circa 1972-4 (Get Up With It, Pangea, Agartha, the rare 45 "Molester") that I played for exclusively for two winters running. I remember the day that the U.K. Ace label released the six CD Little Richard: The Specialty Sessions box set. I'd just put in seven hours on the street as a bike messenger and just wanted to take a bath and pass out, but Quine showed up at my door with a copy of the box for me and a bottle of Jim Beam Green Label. We listened to the whole box and drank the whole bottle. Later we went out to cop and ended up with fentanyl (remember Tango & Cash anybody?) instead of what we really wanted and both almost died. My super found him on the sidewalk on East 11th St. and put him in a cab, his downstairs neighbor found him in the door way and dragged him upstairs and got him into his apartment. New York used to be more fun. I introduced him to Billy Miller at Norton Records and he got to play on Andre Williams' Bait & Switch LP, as a Fortune Records nut it was one of his proudest moments. Billy told me when Quine took a mandolin like solo Andre yelled "Go Italian"! He also appeared as a hustler in the 1992 film White Trash and can be seen in several live Lou Reed video releases, as well as playing himself in a 1980 film called Blank Generation starring Hell. I don't remember the exact date but it was August of 2003 around 6:15 PM when I got a call from Quine. "Alice is dead". I packed enough drugs to sedate a herd of camels and headed to his loft in Soho (where he'd moved a decade earlier, he still hadn't unpacked his records). His beloved wife Alice Sherman was dead on the floor, laid out in front of the bathroom door, she'd died in the shower, her heart gave out from a combination of overwork, anti-depressants and xanax. Quine was in shock. We were told we needed to find a doctor to sign the death certificate and it being a Friday in New York City in August every doctor was in the Hamptons so we had to wait six hours for the city Medical Examiner to officially declare her deceased, then another ten hours for the meat wagon to take her body to the morgue. As the sun rose I took him to where me and my wife were living in the West Village, an open space with a sleeping loft and no walls. Quine was shattered, although since he asked if he could raid my wife's vitamins I assumed he wouldn't kill himself, at least not then. He stayed five or six days and despite the trauma had my wife in stitches when he wasn't crying his eyes out. Quine's last ten months saw him sink into a black depression. Without Alice he could not fend for himself. He didn't know how to use a computer, pay his mortgage, health insurance, electric bills. His benders got worse and the come downs unbearable. Man, he was a mess. We had a Thanksgiving dinner that year at my house for twenty people and he passed out in his food twice. In early 2004 one of his neighbors hired him to record a soundtrack to a film (which I've never seen and don't even know the title of), these were his last recordings and reflect his tortured state of mind. Here are four excerpts: film music 1 film music 6 film music 7 film music 9 In May of 2004 he took his own life. I believe it was an assisted suicide. There was at least one person who stood to benefit from Quine's death and my guess is that is who administered the hot shot (thus canceling out a $20,000 debt; moral: no kindness goes unpunished). For those who knew Quine my suspicions are directed at the one he always referred to as "pizza face". He never learned to use a syringe and was way too much of a wimp to shoot himself up. There were fifty empty glassine dope bags and a note in his handwriting that said "Robert Quine: 1942-2004". His recently amended will was missing. Also fifty bags won't fit in one shot, it probably took two or three, he definitely had help. Had there been no one around to shoot him up, he would still be alive today. I truly believe that. The week before he died he had been on a coke bender and the come down from that made his depression even worse, the person who helped him knew this, but he also knew Quine wanted his $20,000 back and there was no way he was going to pay it. Quine didn't live to see the release of the un-issued Link Wray Cadence LP, the alternate takes of the Buddy Holly Decca sessions, the Miles Davis' On The Corner box set, and the alternate takes from the first Velvet Underground LP, things that would have made him very happy. I've never really talked about Quine since his death, at the memorial I tried to be as vague as possible. Now I've said my piece on the subject I'll try and hold my tongue (and typing fingers) for good.

Robert Quine

Hangover Hop (Live WFMU radio broadcast) 1992 Brian Redman, Me, Robert Quine.

Me, Jeremy Tepper, Quine, Hangover Hop 1992. photos by michael macioce

Since the old links don't work, I thought I should re-post this, since there's no other way to hear this music. These are the last recordings done by Robert Quine whom I've already posted on. Today is his birthday. He would have been 67. He was one of my closest friends and I miss him something awful. These recordings were done for the soundtrack to a film made by a neighbor of his. I've never seen the film and have no idea if it was ever released, or even what the title of it is. It was done in his home studio, he's playing all the instruments (guitars/bass and drum programs). You can get a good idea of what a tortured state of mind he was in in those final months. When these recordings were made it had been five months since his wife Alice Sherman Quine passed away. These recordings show that Quine was playing better than ever in his last days, and also that his style had changed a bit. He was no longer was using the whammy bar or even his trademark Stratocaster, having made the switch to the Telecaster a couple of years earlier. I think some of his best playing can be found on these tracks.

I have already posted on Quine, his life, and death and my friendship with him and have nothing to add to what I've already written. Here's the music:

Film Music 1, Film Music 2, Film Music 3, Film Music 4, Film Music 5, Film Music 6, Film Music 7, Film Music 8, Film Music 9. Happy birthday Quine, where ever you are.

Robert Nighthawk & Link Wray- Two Guys I Never Met....

     I know I just posted this clip (see the Ike Turner posting) but it's so great and it fits today's subject Robert Nighthawk so here it is again, from the film ...and this is Free a documentary about Maxwell Street in Chicago's Jewtown section which used to be a flea market and gathering place for street musicians every Sunday. The city tore down all of Maxwell St. and moved it across the road into a mall several years back so scenes like these are long gone as is Mr. Nighthawk (born Robert Lee McCollum in Helena, Arkansas, Nov. 30 1909, next year is his centennial. He died on Nov. 5, of '67 just before the blues revival that might have put a few bucks in his pockets arrived).      Nightawk had a long recording career in years, short in output. He recorded under the name of Robert Lee McCoy for BlueBird in '37-38, and again billed as "Peetie's Boy" (to cash in on the popularity of William Bunch aka Peetie Wheatstraw "The Devil's Son In Law") in 1940. After World War II he changed his name to Robert Nighthawk (supposedly on the run from the law, but who knows...).  His post war sides are great, some of them are almost rockabilly (, best are the ones recorded for the United and States labels which are incdredibly rare although they've been re-issued on the Pearl label which is owned by Delmark (which is owned by the guy who runs the Jazz Record Mart, one of the last great record stores in the U.S.). A 78 of "Maggie Cambell" just sold on Ebay for over $500 (the financial meltdown doesn't seem to have effected the price of rare records yet, at least not the ones I want). He recorded for Aristocrat (which became Chess) in '48 and '49, I have a Japanese LP of all those recordings which are also scattered about on various compilations. Here's one of  rockers, his version of  "Kansas City Blues.  Oddly enough Ernest Tubb would cover this one and his version (here) is as bluesy as Nighthawks' is country. Don't you love the way Tubb says "chump"? "Nighthawk cut a last session for the Testament label in '66 with his guitar teacher Houston Stackhouse. Here's a five song tribute with some interview stuff spliced in, taken from an old aircheck. The tunes are "Prowlin' Nighthawk" from Blue Bird, 1937, "Maggie Cambell" issued on States in '52, ""Goin' Down To Eli's" and "Anna Lee Blues" were recorded live on Maxwell Street in '63 (and are from the film) and the final tune, a version of Tommy Johnson's "Big Road Blues" is from the Testament LP

When talking about slide players, the old timers always put Robert Nighthawk at the top of the list, he was one blues man who really could play. He was so good he was hired to be the entertainment at Muddy Waters' wedding party. The Link Wray clip is from the Jack Spector TV show which showed locally in Providence, RI, an after school Bandstand type show. Not Link's best tune but dig that Danelectro Longhorn! It's the only early TV footage of Link I've ever stumbled across. He'll be gone three years now this month, he died on Nov. 5, 2003. Here's an aircheck set of five Link instrumentals to remember him by. The tunes are "Fat Back", "Slinky", "Vendetta", "The Swag" and "The Earth Is Crying". The good folks at Norton records have an incredible amount of Link Wray stuff in their catalogue including four volumes of rarities (Missing Links Vol.1-4), a double CD of the complete Swan Recordings, and best of all the Norton Jukebox 45 series which has a dozen killer 45's which is still the best way to hear rock'n'roll.

Link lived in New York City for many years and played at Max's many times and except to get a record signed I never really talked to him. The only impression I got of him was that he was rather nice and very taciturn. He did lend Quine his Ampeg amp which Quine used on much of Richard Hell & the Voidoids' Blank Generation album.   Even when Link descended into bar band heavy metal in the later years, he shows always started off great, nobody could smoke a cigarette, play an E chord and walk backwards quite like Link could.

If you're keeping up with the financial bail out plan you need to look at this.

I still think my plan was better (see "The Hound Saves Capitalism"). If Obama is serious about change something has to be done about the way business is done these days, as in, fuck the workers, fuck the stockholders, let's downsize and/or out source to save money and redirect our savings to executive pay/bonus/benefit packages.

That bail out money that was supposed to jump start the banks is not being lent out, it's being used to leverage buyouts and of course huge executive paychecks. Now that we have a guy headed to the White House that's got our hopes up that he's serious about doing the right thing I gotta wonder, is it even possible? Bush's speech at the UN last week, where he blamed the financial meltdown on "too much regulation" needed a laugh track. The subtext however was painfully obvious-- "we tried to give the poor blacks and Latinos home ownership, they just don't deserve it"!    My prediction, to

paraphrase Hallie Sallasse is "War! War in the east, war in the west, war everywhere".

Look at history and then look at the world. Pick your spot and watch it explode.

Lester Bangs

Lester At CBGB, June '77

First 45, with Quine on guitar.

Notice the autograph-- Lester hated the Cramps.

I first met Lester Bangs via the telephone. I was a bored teenager. Growing up in South Florida in the early 70's, there weren't many people who liked the Stooges and the Velvet Underground. I read Creem and Rock Scene and zines like Who Put The Bomp, Back Door Man, Denim Delinquent, The Rock Marketplace, Gulcher, Punk (the original Punk from Buffalo which predated the New York mag by two years). I used to call the Creem offices in Michigan around midnight every couple of weeks. Lester was always there, usually speeding away, editing and writing. Sometimes he was drunk, or high on cough syrup. I remember him playing me a test pressing of Patti Smith's Horses over the phone in its entirety.

On my first trip to New York City, the spring of '77, I'd just turned eighteen and I was staying at a loft down on Warren Street (The Home For Teenage Dirt said the sign in the window) which was inhabited by Miriam Linna (a pen pal from Ohio who had moved to New York City earlier and extended an invitation to crash with her if I ever managed to make it north, today she runs the Norton Records empire with her husband Billy Miller, both play in the A-Bones, currently touring Europe), Lydia Lunch and the late Bradly Field (who would become the drummer for Teenage Jesus and the Jerks and the Cramps' road manager). The block was empty, there was no such thing as Tribeca back then. The only other inhabitant of the block was Jody Harris of the Contortions who had a loft in the next building and it was used as a rehearsal space for many bands including the Contortions, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, and Lester Bangs' first band. It was also the only place to take a shower.

After arriving, I met Lydia and Todd Abramson (now owner of Maxwells and Tel*Star Records, he was fifteen at the time and also on his first trip to NYC), the others were still at work when I arrived. After about an hour I went outside to look around, took a seat on the stoop and lit a cigarette. Who came walking down the street but Richard Hell, Robert Quine and Lester Bangs. I introduced myself and presented them all with copies of my fanzine-- New Order (Hell shared the cover with Patti Smith, I'd done a phone interview with him). Later that night, after catching two sets each by the Cramps and the Ramones at CBGB, Bradly dragged me to 24 hour bar on 9th St. between First Ave and Ave. A called the Kiwi Club. Lester was there, we were all already plastered but we got considerably drunker, staying long after sunrise. So began my short friendship with Lester Bangs.

That Sunday night Lester's band played at CBGB on a bill with Alex Chilton (The Ramones/Cramps double bill was Friday and Saturday). Lester's band that night were the guys who played on his first single-- Let It Blurt b/w Live (Spy), Bob Quine and Jody Harris on guitars, David Hofstra on bass and J.D. Daughtery on drums. I only remember that they covered the Doors' Five To One, The Stooges' TV Eye, and that when Lester introduced an original called I Sold My Body and Bradly Field yelled "By the pound"! There were at least fifteen people in the audience.

A few days later, me and Phast Phreddie Patterson (in from L.A. and also staying on Warren St.) went to Lester's apartment on Sixth Ave just above 14th St. to interview him for our respective fanzines (Phreddie edited a great mag called Back Door Man , my mag was a pale imitation of his). Lester was very funny and within a few days he presented us each with long contributions to our respective zines-- Back Door Man ran theirs which was called Back Door Men and Women In Bondage and was mostly a long fantasy about biting Cherrie Currie's nipples off, mine was called Nude Oders and has never been published since New Order folded after issue #2 and I lent the manuscript to John Mortland when he was compiling articles for Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, he promised to give it back after he xeroxed it, that was in 1984 and I'm still waiting for him to return it.

Shortly after that '77 visit, I moved to New York, and after a season spent couch surfing settled into a tiny $175 a month studio apartment on E. 1oth Street between 1st and 2nd. It was ground level and in the front of the building, so anyone who cared could tell if I was home or not by simply looking in the window. Since Lester often got drunk and lost his keys, he was a frequent overnight visitor, I couldn't pretend I wasn't home like most of his friends had learned to do in those situations. Even sober, Lester could wreck your house in minutes, but drunk, forget it, by morning every book and record in the place would be out of their jacket and on the floor. The entire tube of toothpaste would be coating the bathroom, toilet paper all over the place. It would take days to get the place back into a reasonable order. The first time he came over he gave me "the Sister Ray test". That is, when ever Lester went to somebody's house, he'd take out their copy of White Light/White Heat (I don't think Lester knew anyone except his girlfriend who didn't own a copy of WL/WH) and check the grooves to see how worn out Sister Ray was. Mine had been played to death. He explained that everyone owned a copy of WL/WH because it was cool to own it, but very few people actually listened to it. He told me that I was okay, I'd actually played Sister Ray enough times to call myself a real Velvet Underground fan.

Too bad he didn't live long enough to hear the Sweet Sister Ray bootleg.

Lester was not a good drunk, so I often saw him at his absolute worst. He could also be a great guy, he could be very generous and thoughtful. After Country: America's Biggest Music came out, Lester knew I loved the book and made it a point to take me to Nick Tosches' place and introduce me to him, a rather fateful introduction since I would later meet my wife through Nick. When I became the music editor of a rag called the East Village Eye, Lester volunteered to write a column (for free yet!)-- the Scorn Pages. Unfortunately the idiot editor-- Leonard Abrams decided he didn't want a column by Lester Bangs and cut Lester's first contribution down to one paragraph and ran it on the letters page ("I invented punk...."). I was very embarrassed by Abrams rejection of Lester's offer, but Lester was quite understanding and didn't blame me. Needless to say, I quit as music editor, although I wrote a column in the Eye for many years (often sharing a page with Cookie Mueller who wrote the health column!).

Lester could also be an asshole and Lester's final years were tough ones for him. He had burned himself out as a rock writer but couldn't seem sell (or even write) anything else. He was always broke and his phone was shut off a few times. A soft touch, I paid his phone bill off at least three times in his final year.

When it came to finding things to write about, it didn't help that after the initial break through, punk became new wave which was just as lame as the shit it was supposed to replace. Even Iggy and Lou Reed were churning out awful records. I think by the end he was coming around to my (and Quine's) way of thinking-- that is, who cares about this new crap, there's tons of old records to be found that we never heard, who could give a fuck about the Gang Of Four after hearing Hasil Adkins' She Said or Esquerita's Rockin' The Joint?

Lester couldn't get a decent book deal although he churned out proposals weekly. When he did get a deal, to write a bio of Blondie, the publishers fucked it up, removing all the quotation marks among other bad editing decisions, when they were through with it, it was barely readable, but desperate for cash he helped Paul Nelson write a book on Rod Stewart for the same idiots**.

Lester always had girl problems, and for a guy so unforgiving in others (he hated anyone who he suspected "wanted to be a rock star", which of course is what everyone including himself really wanted to be), he was surprisingly thin skinned. When an escort service that a friend of his worked for informed him that none of the girls were willing to service him anymore he was quite hurt. When I suggested he pay more attention to his personal hygiene (bathing was not one of his pleasures), he got quite upset. His apartment was the filthiest place I'd seen since leaving the Florida trailer camps of my youth, although oddly enough when he finally cleaned the place up a bit, he died soon after. Perhaps the germs were keeping him alive. Deep down, I think he had a misogynist streak in him that surfaced after the fourth drink. I've seen him be brutal to women he'd had one night stands with. In print he called himself a "feminist"and made a big deal such things, but in real life he was about as sensitive as Led Zeppelin's road crew.

Post-Creem Lester was really floundering about for things to write about. His main outlet at the time was the Village Voice. His best piece for the Voice was about Otis Rush's Cobra sides which had just been re-issued by Flyright. The worst was a big story about racism in punk rock, of which there was very little. One of those he accused of being a racist was Miriam Linna (because of a photo I ran in New Order of Miriam and a pal in front of some weird Nazi headquarters. It was obvious the photo was a goof, like trying to get close enough to a bear without getting bit by it). In reality, Lester was pissed at Miriam because Kicks mag (which she and Billy edited, still the greatest fanzine of all time) had rejected an article he wrote about No Wave. No way in hell is Miriam any sort of racist and Lester knew it (if you don't believe me ask Andre Williams, Rudy Ray Moore, the Mighty Hannibal, or any of the other black artists she's helped over the years). Lester later confessed to me that he thought it was the worst article he ever wrote and regretted the whole thing, but since the piece not only ran on the cover of the Voice (which everyone read back then), it was reprinted in Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung and Miriam's had to live with this accusation for all these years. He also accused Punk's Legs McNeil and John Holmstron of racism because at a party at Lester's place they didn't like the Otis Redding record he was playing (one of them referred to it as "disco shit"). I know them both, again, I've never heard a racist murmur from either. Keep in mind, Lester was known for throwing around what is today called "the N word". The most famous photo of Lester is Kate Simon's portrait of him wearing a shirt that read: "Last Of The White Niggers". I saw the way black people looked at him when he wore that shirt, and I'm amazed he wasn't murdered. If I was black, I'd have thrown him a beating. I was at the party in question and one thing Lester left out was when Lester tried to get James Wolcott to get up and dance. Wolcott sniffed his nose at the turntable and quipped, "I don't like black music". That doesn't make him a racist, but the way he said it left little doubt in my mind that he thought it was the sound of a lower breed of human. But Lester was a bit of a coward in that way, he'd have never attacked James Wolcott, who could have torn Lester a new asshole in the press, so he picked on Miriam, who had no way of fighting back, even though she was innocent of Lester's ridiculous charge. Enough on that subject, I've kept my mouth shut for over thirty years and I'll keep it shut now that I've said what I have to say. No offence to Wolcott who I don't even know (that party was the only time I ever remember meeting him). That's just how I remember it.

Getting back to Lester .....

After Let It Blurt, he kept making music, forming the group Birdland with Mickey Leigh (Joey Ramone's brother), and they played around for a year or two. Lester wasn't much of a rock'n'roll front man but he wrote good songs. He was extremely hurt when they threw him out of the group and changed their name to the Rattlers. He went to Austin, Texas for a bit (he even considered moving there) and came back with a country tinged record he recorded down there with a group called the Delinquents-- Jook Savages On The Brazos. I think it's a pretty good record, the ominous Kill Him Again and the Birdland leftover I'm In Love With My Walls

are at least as good as, say, the Germs or the Sniveling Shits, and the two hillbilly tunes-- I Just Want To Be A Movie Star and Life Is Not Worth Living (But Suicide's A Waste Of Time) are hilarious, I'd say these four tracks were the best music Lester ever made.

He claimed that Porter Wagner loved them. There's one cover on the LP-- a version of Dale Hawkins' Grandma's House to which he added some new lyrics: "Old Black Joe lived all alone/never saw him at the store/burned him 'til he was just bones/and burned him just a little more", giving the song an entirely different feeling from the original, to say the least.

These days Lester Bangs is something of a star. Jim Derogtis' biography Let It Blurt will tell you all the facts, but it's missing something, it doesn't really capture Lester's sense of humor, reading it, I learned a lot of things I didn't know about Lester, but it just doesn't seem all that much like the Lester I knew. The one who broke my copy of the second Band album when I put it on one morning when we both woke up with bad hangovers. The two volumes of his writing-- Psychotic Reactions & Carburetor Dung and Mainlines, Blood Feasts and Bad Taste (awful title, no?) are certainly worth reading, between them there's probably 85% of his best writing, but why didn't they just release Lester's own version of P.R. & C.D. that he had edited for a German publisher? The former contains the two things he told me he wished he'd never written (the Racism in Punk piece and his description of Lou Reed's transsexual friend from his third Creem Lou Reed interview). Philip Seymour Hoffman's portrayal of Lester in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous was so ridiculous I'm at a loss for words. It's much like the concert scenes in said flick, can you imagine a 70's rock concert without a cloud of pot smoke hovering over the audience? Hoffman's Lester was like the concert hall without the pot smoke. Sanitized and smoke free, for the good little 21st century consumer fascists. Lester as the conscience of the record industry? If it wasn't so stupid, I'd bitch slap Cameron Crowe (who only got work because he liked the worst shit like the Eagles and never wrote a bad word about anyone).

The last time I saw Lester I was selling promo LP's out on Astor Place, he bought two copies of Metal Machine Music from me and we made plans to get together and play records later that week. He had borrowed a pile of records and books and I wanted to get them back.* Two days later he was dead, the autopsy said he overdosed on Darvon, which I didn't think was possible.

I've eaten bottles of that shit and barely gotten a buzz. Lester had awful taste in drugs.

He had a strange knot on his head and he thought the cough syrup was making it go away. In reality it was making it bigger.

I have pretty much refused to talk about Lester since he died (although I was interviewed by Derogtis, I don't think he used anything I said), his legacy now in the hands of a strange combination of those he loved the most and those he despised the most. Now I've said my piece and I'll keep my trap shut. It's been almost thirty years now, and I still miss the big goofball.

On the other hand, I can't imagine Lester in the modern world. I remember the night Reagan was elected, we watched Andy Griffith in Kazan's A Face In The Crowd, and I predicted it was the beginning of the end for America. I think I was right. The national 21 year old drinking age did more to kill rock'n'roll than anything else. Bangs died before MTV, Giuliani, Bush-Cheney, yuppies, cellphones, blackberries, and the Internet. Lester didn't even like electric typewriters, I just don't think Twitter would have done much for him. Lester died because rock'n'roll was the only thing that kept him alive, and when it died so did Lester Bangs. When Quine was alive we often would often ask each other-- "What do you think Lester would have thought of that"?

Now Lester and Quine can look down on me and ask each other, why is that idiot still alive?

Addendum: Some interesting downloads of Lester jamming with the late Peter Laughner (Rocket From The Tombs/Pere Ubu) can be found here.

* I never got my books and records back, although I've replaced 'em all except the dust jacket for Persecuted Prophets (a book about snake handling Pentecostal cults in Kentucky). However, Quine gave me Lester's bound edition of all the Creem mags he edited (in an Easy Rider binder) and a big bag of cassettes, Lester doing interviews, recording phone conversations, jamming with ZZ Top, etc. Unfortunately the bag smelled like Lester's apartment so I sealed it up in a plastic bag and ten years later when I opened it, it still stunk like hell. So this little dweeb named Rob O'Conner who did a one shot Lester zine called Throat Culture offered to transfer them to a master reel and give them back. Or give me a smell free copy, or something like that.

Needless to say I never heard from him again. Some day Rob O'Conner will turn a corner and find me there waiting for him....hope you have dental insurance Rob.

** Addendum #2: I think I'm the only person who read Rock Gommarah, the book he co-authored with Michael Ochs that never came out, that liked it. I remember the highlights being an interview with Sherrif Tex Davis who managed Gene Vincent and some funny interviews with Hank Ballard. Where is that manuscript today? If no publisher wants it can't it just be put online as a pdf. file?

Me And Famous People...Vol. 1

As a teen I used to love Rock Scene magazine. It was mostly just pictures of Richard and/or Lisa Robinson at Max's or CBGB's or parties with their version of celebrities: the Stooges, Patti Smith, the Ramones, Bowie, Roxy, etc. but it seemed so glamorous and exciting. Well, I'm away this week and too lazy to write a full blog entry before I leave so I thought I'd do my version of Rock Scene and just run some pix of myself and some famous faces I've stumbled into over the years.

Me and Rosco Gordon, WFMU Record Fair, 1992.

With Ernie K-Doe, Mother In Law Lounge, New Orleans, 1999. Left to right: Michelle Kozuchowski, Me, Ernie (R.I.P.), Kelly Keller (R.I.P.)

With Rudy Ray Moore (Dolemite), WFMU Record Fair, 1992. With Cordell Jackson, Lakeside Lounge, 1997.

Me with Phil May, Lakeside Lounge, 1999? What's the difference between a straight Englishman and a gay Englishman? Three pints.

With Chuck Wepner, the Bayonne Bleeder, 2000 at Nick Tosches book party (photo by Wayne Kramer).

With Robert Quine, I really miss him, Jeremy Tepper in the back, Hangover Hop, 1993. With Ike Turner, 1997 (Photo by Bob Gruen)

No Se No, 1984, Ray Kelly (w/Cowboy Hat), Me and the World Famous Blue Jays (Jay Sherman Godfrey and Jeremy Tepper).

Hasil Adkins and Me, 1985 (from 3-d original)

With Hank Ballard, 1987. Esquerita in the center, the rest of the gang, left to right Me, Billy Miller, Julie Whitney, Todd Abramson, Miriam Linna. 1982?

Jack Scott

Jack Scott as a balladeer.

With bowling trophy.

Jack Scott- attempting to match Elvis' sneer.

Jack Scott with backing singers the Chantones.

I've always loved the sound of Jack Scott (born Giovanni Dominico Scafone Jr.,  Jan. 24, 1936, in Windsor, Ontario). He had an loose, almost swinging rock'n'roll sound, he had an amazing voice and was an excellent tunesmith, writing nearly all his own best sides.  

  At age ten his family relocated across the border to Hazel Oak, Michigan, a suburb of Detroit, and it was hear he formed his first band-- the Southern Drifters, playing country and rockabilly. His first session came in early 1957 at Detroit's Universal Studio, it produced  Greaseball (an early version of Leroy which remained unreleased until the 90's) and four sides that were picked up by the ABC/Paramount label and make up his first two singles--

Baby She's Gone b/w You Can Bet Your Bottom Dollar, his debut, followed later in the year by Two Timin' Woman b/w I Need Your Love, both singles are in the moody, Elvis mode. The primitive thumper Baby She's Gone is the best of the four sides with it's  foreboding, nearly ominous throb, and killer guitar solo by Al Allen (which Robert Quine would steal part of and insert into punk anthem Blank Generation twenty years later). It was around this time he hooked up with bass player Stan Getz (not the jazz saxophonist) and his Tom Cats who would be his backing band for the next year or so (and later go on to even greater obscurity as Johnny Powers' band).  

In the spring of '58 Scott, who had made some local waves was signed to Carlton Records and was back in the studio, recording his first real hit My True Love b/w Leroy (both sides making the Billboard charts with the a-side rising to #3), and the follow up-- With Your Love b/w Geraldine, a lesser hit, rising to #28 and kicking off a six single backwards chart run that would take him through the end of '58 with  Goodbye Baby b/w Save My Soul (#8), The Way I Walk b/w  Midgie (#38), I Never Felt Like This b/w Bella (#78) and There Comes A Time b/w Baby Marie (#71). Carlton also issued his first LP,

ten of its twelve titles being originals, including all his 45's, it was even issued in true stereo, vocals and guitars on one side, bass and drums on the other, it's a great record to practice guitar playing to because you can put the balance all the way to once side and play along with the rhythm section. The stereo pressing have the word Stereo written vertically down the left side of the jacket in press on felt block letters. It's probably the first stereo rock'n'roll LP ever released.

 Jack Scott was drafted in 1959 and he'd spend most of the year in the U.S. Army, Carlton releasing lesser sides and a second LP to keep his name alive. Later that year upon his discharge he left Carlton and signed with another small company- Top Rank. By this late date, in order to survive rockers, following in Elvis' footsteps (whose first post-Army single was the re-write of Mario Lanza's version of O Sole Mia-- It's Now Or Never), had to become ballad singers (Roy Orbison, Conway Twitty,The Everly Brothers) or watch their careers wither (Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins). 

Scott who always excelled at ballads had no problem adjusting and topped the charts with the ballado-profundo What In The World's Come Over You (#5 Pop), although the flip side was a rocker Baby Baby. He followed it with another weeper-- Burning Bridges which became his biggest ever hit, rising to #3. Carlton responded in the other direction by digging out the rocker Go Wild Little Sadie from his sophomore LP and issuing it on the Guaranteed imprint around the same time, it was a close to frantic as Scott ever sounded.

Jack Scott had a nice career going for him, but he was never able to turn it into major stardom. He left Top Rank shortly after Burning Bridges and spent the 60's label hopping, cutting sides, some truly excellent, for Capitol (Strange Desire, one of my favorites, a throw back to his Carlton discs, and the unissued Good Deal Lucille stand out), RCAs Groove subsidiary (including the excellent rockin Christmas two sider-- Jingle Bell Slide b/w There's Trouble Brewing, and the killer-- Wiggle On Out), Dot and progressively lesser labels. Despite, or probably because he never really changed his sound,  he never made the transition to country stardom that revived the careers of Jerry Lee Lewis and Conway Twitty.

By the 70's "The Canadian Elvis" would be reduced to playing Teddy Boy revivals in the U.K. (he shared a live album in '77 with Charlie Feathers, Buddy Knox, and Warren Smith) and the occasional oldies show. His last chart showing was a revival of Burning Bridges done as a duet with Carrol "Baby Doll" Baker, a minor Canadian country hit in 1992. He eventually retired from live performing  unable to find a suitable band (and the economics of touring makes hiring real musicians unfeasible).  In recent years a bootleg emerged claiming to be a Jack Scott  live recording circa 1961, it's actually from the mid-80's, but shows him still at the height of his powers, sounding pretty much like his old discs, as these versions of The Way I Walk and Goodbye Baby prove, time did not decay his easy going swagger.

 If rockabilly, at it's best, was mostly about a guy with a hard on telling himself (and the world) how cool he is,  then Jack Scott was it's prophet. 

Two Great Rock'n'Roll Movies: The World's Greatest Sinner/Wild Guitar

Timothy Carey invents a new religion, and rocks his way to hell.

 You wouldn't particularly think of 1962 as a great year for movies, but oddly enough it was the year the two greatest rock'n'roll flicks ever made were released. First came The World's Greatest Sinner (1962), written, directed and starring Timothy Carey (1929-1994) who began his career in Billy Wilder's incredible Ace In The Hole (which also inspired on of the best Simpsons episodes ever the one were all the rock stars gather to record the "we're sending our love down the well" song), and can be seen in Kubrick's Path's Of Glory and The Killing (written by Jim Thompson), Brando's One Eyed Jacks, many Beach Party flicks (always as the character South Dakota Slim), even in the Wild One, as well as dozens of TV shows. He was one of the greatest and most memorable character actors of all time. The theme song, done by Frank Zappa & the Mothers' under the name Baby Ray & the Ferns was issued on Donna (a subsidiary of Del-Fi, the label that gave us Ritchie Valens, Chan Romero, The Bobby Fuller Four, and lots of great surf 45's) in a different version than the one heard in the flick (with the great How's Your Bird on the flip, it remains Zappa's finest moment and best Johnny "Guitar" Watson impersonation). Although it's never been officially released on DVD, The World's Greatest Sinner is easy to find, several companies have been selling bootleg copies taken off the TCM broadcast last year (a beautiful print I might add, much better than the old VHS copies that were making the rounds). A Pirate Bay bit torrent rip can be found here. There's not much point in me describing the plot, as it really is a work of art beyond my powers of description, but do try and see it, it can change your life.

Trailer for Wild Guitar (1962).

Arch Hall Jr. - Actor, rocker, heart-throb.

The second greatest rock'n'roll flick ever made is Ray Dennis Steckler's directorial debut Wild Guitar (1962). Steckler aka Cash Flagg would go on to direct such mind blowing low budget films as Rat Fink and Boo Boo (1966, co-written by Chicago rocker and paperback author extraordinaire Ron Haydock) and The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living And Became Mixed Up Zombies (1964), Steckler's story deserves a book of it's own. Oddly enough he was the cinematographer on The World's Greatest Sinner. Both films look great, especially considering their minuscule budgets. Wild Guitar stars the always cool in that "aw shucks" way-- Arch Hall Jr. as Bud Eagle, a naive kid who just wants to rock and ends up getting run through the music industry meat grinder by a sleazy small label owner played by his real life father (who also produced the film), Arch Hall Sr. It's got a great soundtrack (all the tunes in the flick can be found on the Norton Records Arch Hall Jr. CD-- Wild Guitar, they also have the film on DVD for a mere $10, not to mention a must have complete Ron Haydock & the Boppers collection). I think I can safely say that Wild Guitar is the sort of masterpiece we shall not see in this century. Here's the theme song by Arch if you need any further prompting to buy the CD and DVD.

Arch Hall Jr. is still around and plays the occasional gig. Ray Dennis Steckler sadly passed away in January of 2009, no mention of his passing was made during the Academy Awards yearly "remember those who died this year" segment. Fuck them, Wild Guitar is better than almost any movie that ever won an Academy Award, which, in fact, if you ever want to see a list of some of the worst movies ever made, look at the ones that won Oscars--Dances With Wolves, The Titanic, My Fair Lady, Chicago, Rocky, The Sound Of Music, cripes!, I'll take an episode of The Abbott & Costello Show (oddly enough, their TV show was way better than their movies) any day. Rock'n'roll is very hard to translate to celluloid and most attempts over the years have been laughable, but The World's Greatest Sinner and Wild Guitar remain two gems,

and they deserve to be seen by anyone who cares about rock'n'roll.

ADDENDUM: Interesting post on Robert Quine (the sixth anniversary of his death was last week) by his cousin Tim can be found here.

Is it okay to laugh?

From The Detroit News, Wednesday, November 5, 2008: Nathaniel Mayer funeral set for Tuesday Susan Whitall / The Detroit News Motown singer and Detroit city councilwoman Martha Reeves will speak Tuesday at the funeral for Nathaniel Mayer, the dynamic Fortune Records singer of "Village of Love" and other hits. The funeral takes place at 1 p.m. Tuesday at the Swanson Funeral Home, 806 E. Grand Blvd. (at Mack Avenue) in Detroit. Mayer, 64, died on Saturday after a long illness. Survivors include his widow, Marie; sons Monkeith, Shron and Shmar; and daughter Terry Mayer Williams. "He just loved show business. He loved to sing," Marie Mayer said. She and Mayer married in 1963, when she was a 17-year-old model and he was 19, a rising star in music with his 1962 hit song. Check out his sons names-- Monkeith, Shron and Shmar Those are spelled right. None are listed on the Afro American Baby Names website. But then again neither is Obama. I went to High School with a pair of twins named Mali and Femali, they had a little brother named Pyjamas.Now that we have a president named Obama how long before white people start naming their Kanisha or LaShonda? I'd imagine pretty soon. Anyone out there heard any good baby names?

Since the source of this next website was a Japanese girl I guess it's not racist, either way Engrish.com is a hoot and maybe a look into our own future.

It's amazing that records and photos are still turning up of old blues guys. The above photo ran in this month's Vanity Fair and was purchased on Ebay. The owner thinks it's Robert Johnson and Johnny Shines, I think it's probably Johnson on the left but not Shines on the right who was much darker skinned than that guy, who ever he is.

I'm sure there's a big legal battle ensuing over the rights to said photo, so if anyone complains I'll have to pull it, if that's the case it's actually worth buying the Nov. VF for, the article is interesting if you don't know anything about the legal battle over Johnson's estate (which is a good story). One thing not mentioned is that there's still Robert Johnson music that's never been heard. I believe one risque track exists on the metal stampers which has never been issued. Since Sony lost track of the stampers ages ago (which is why the box set sounds so bad, the first few notes of "Traveling Riverside Blues" are even missing!). Compare an old vinyl copy to the CD and see for yourself. I believe the metal parts (from which records are pressed) where dumped in a dumpster years ago, somebody did salvage them but he's keeping a low profile. If you haven't noticed that's Johnson's death certificate at the top of the page. You can't even die without doing the paperwork, as I found out once (see Quine posting in Oct. for my experience with the NYC  Medical Examiner and meat wagon folks). Getting back to the blues, in the past few years we've seen tracks by Tommy Johnson, Son House, Blind Blake, Ben Curry and others turn up, not to mention the full color photo of Charley Patton. All the aforementioned tracks (and the photo) can be had from record dealer John Tefteller who puts out a blues calender with a bonus CD every year, the Patton photo is on the 2008 calender, the Blind Blake and Ben Curry tracks are on the 2009 CD. You can find 'em here if you follow the links to calender. The calenders are priceless with lots of original, old Paramount advertising art (and some modern reproductions) and well worth the $20 since that's what the CD would cost anyways. I rarely buy any CD's nowadays but I recommend this package. No matter how obscure your interests are these days, somebody's got something to sell you.  But this guy is actually pretty cool and really does love the music and does a great job presenting it.

Speaking of shit turning up, there's been some great Velvet Underground crap crawling out from under rocks in the past few years. I've been wanting to post these four alternate takes from the first Velvet Underground LP for a while now but I really have nothing new to say about the Velvets. They've been written about more than any American rock'n'roll band ever. These four tunes come off an acetate found at a stoop sale around the corner from my house, they're every bit as good as the takes used (some , including Mo Tucker like this version of "Heroin" better). Here they are: "Heroin", "Waitin' For The Man", "Venus In Fur" and "European Son". Just something to liven up a Sunday. While I'm at it, here are a couple of killers from that live at the Gymnasium tape, with John Cale early '67: "I'm Not A Young Man Anymore", "Sister Ray", "Run Run Run". This is Cale's last show with the Velvets. I think these are better than anything on the Quine box (which is all post-Cale recordings). Quine would have loved this stuff, too bad he killed himself. Why didn't Universal issue the Gymnasium show? Who knows, too late now, it's all over the net and easy enough to find complete. I guess I did have something to say, but that's pretty much it.

    Another just thought I'd throw it in there is this one, a South African rock'n'roll 78 from the late 50's. "Zulu Rock" by the King Brothers, I thought at least Brendan in S. Africa would get a kick out of it.

Andre Williams-- Bacon Fat and other delights....

On Nov 1st Zephyr Andre Williams will be 72 years old. Or 74, or 76, or maybe 70.

Math isn't Andre's best subject. The first time I heard him was on an R&B station out of Miami when a DJ named Butterball who would come on at midnight played "Cadillac Jack" every night for a week. I bought the single, on Chess which I loved, along with it's b-side "Girdle Up". Later as I got caught the dreaded disease called record collecting I became familiar with his earlier sides on Detroit's legendary Fortune label-- "Bacon Fat", "Greasy Chicken", "Pass The Biscuits", "Andre Is M-M-Movin'", "Jailbait", "Going Down To Tia Juana" and the rest. These were life defining records, the reason why a person spends their life digging through piles of dusty old records at flea markets, junk stores, and yard sales, loses their eye sight reading auction lists. They were rock'n'roll in it's purest, greasiest, and most unadulterated form. Everything about them was perfect from the sly lyrics to the distorted guitars, the primal slop beat, the guttural saxophones. Andre became an obsession and not a week went by when I didn't spin one of his records on my radio show. In the late 80's I met Andre for the first time, this was in Miami where he had holed up briefly. He was drunk and not in the best shape. I attempted to interview him for Kicks magazine, he spent most of the evening passing out in his rum and coke.  I didn't see Andre again until the late 90's when courtesy of the folks at Norton Records Andre staged one of the greatest comebacks in history.

     History, Andre's got one, to say the least. Born in Bessemer, Alabama, probably in 1936 his family relocated to Chicago. His mother past away when he was six leaving the kids to live under a stairwell until they were taken in by various aunties. By age sixteen Andre was in Detroit where he joined his cousin Little Eddie Hurt's vocal group the 5 Dollars who had cut such classics as "So Strange" and "Doctor Baby" for the incredible Fortune label, perhaps the most unique of all the "indies". Soon Andre was leading his own group-- the Don Juans and was given top billing, his first Fortune release, or more aptly escape, was called "Put A Chain On It", then recording the aforementioned classics records, they were too raw for the top forty, soon they were too raw for the record business in general and as the fifties became the sixties Andre was on the move.      The sixties saw Andre hustling back and forth from Chicago where he scored big hits with the 5 Du-tones "Shake A Tail Feather" (a tune that would go on to be recorded by Ray Charles, Ike and Tina Turner and Hanson) and "Twine Time" by Alvin Cash and the Crawlers, back to Detroit where he cut some sides with the Contours for Motown (Andre would be hired and fired by Berry Gordy over twenty times), to Houston where he produced sides by Bobby Bland at Duke. He still recorded under his own name, now adapting a boog-a-loo style best exemplified by "Pearl Time" on Sport and "Sweet Little Pussycat" on Wingate. After a brief stint and some minor hits at Chess (see above) Andre hit a dry streak, broken only by Bull & the Matadors' "Funky Judge", a minor hit covered in the 70's by the J. Geils Band. By the 1980's Andre was living on the streets of Chicago, smoking crack and living the life of a derelict. I think it was George Paulus of St. George Records who first brought Andre back into the studio to cut a CD (Norton issued a much different version of the sessions on the LP Greasy) backed by a band that featured the Pretty Things' Dick Taylor on guitar and the Eldorados on backing vocals. Andre came to New York in 1997 to promote Greasy a trip that would do Homer's Ulysses proud (he would return home many years later, after many adventures and many countries, circumcised). In what would become one of the most unlikely comebacks of the century, Andre would tour the world, using various back up groups and sometimes pick up bands, building an audience amongst hepsters who hadn't been born when "Bacon Fat" was released. This is about the time me and Andre became reacquainted. It started with Andre recording a station ID for my radio show ("anything with an antenna is important"). I began booking Andre to play in New York at the Lakeside Lounge (it started as a Camel cigarette sponsored one nighter, he ended up playing a dozen shows including a New Year's Eve blow out that was probably the only time I really had fun on a NYE). We also booked him into the Circle Bar in New Orleans (we had a great backing band for one of those shows with Mr. Quintron on organ and the Royal Pendletons' Mike Hurt on guitar). Hanging out with Andre was always a blast. Once at the Lakeside he invited his new wife (a Jewish, New York lawyer, hence the circumcision, he never bothered to divorce the first wife in Chicago) and her old aunties. Andre decided he was going to do the whole set without cursing. It got off to an auspicious start with the opening number "Pussy Stank" when on the P in "pussy", Andre's dentures came flying out of his mouth, ever the pro he caught 'em on a bounce and had 'em back in his kisser in time to come back in on the "stank".      Once in New Orleans, at Mardis Gras time the 9th Ward Marching Band decided to make Andre it's grand marshall. I was up on the balcony over the bar when they came marching down St. Charles Ave, Andre seated on a float like a Sultan. The entire marching band, bass drums, tubas, everything, took a right turn and marched into the bar, still playing (the Circle Bar is tiny, like a half of a subway car with a 10' x 10' room off to the side). When I got downstairs they whole band was inside, still playing, marching lockstep as Andre was carried in over their heads. I've never seen him happier.      On the day George W. Bush was elected (or whatever that was) Andre and I flew from New Orleans to New York City. First we had to stop at a liquor store to get a bottle of rum to stop his DT's (it was 8:30 am). When we got to the airport Andre dropped the bottle, leaving a pile of broken glass and Bacardi all over the floor. The bar was closed. Andre soon found the woman with the keys to the bar and sweet talked her into selling him a new bottle. On the flight 'Dre soon had made friends with everyone else on the flight. It was the only time I've ever flown that I would describe as fun. He predicted Bush would steal the election, predicted 9/11 and the war in Iraq, and predicted the financial meltdown-- eight years before it happened. This guy doesn't miss a trick. Our fellow passengers were bemused but time has proved Andre a keen observer of things and the way they work.      For the last twelve years Andre's toured the world, gotten involved with countless women, many a third his age or less, recorded for a bewildering variety of labels including Norton (Bait & Switch is my favorite of all his post-comeback discs, Robert Quine plays on two tracks, it was one of his proudest moments), In The Red. Bloodshot, St. George, and others I can't remember. He's also seen his sixties sides re-issued by Night Train (Rib Tips and Pig Snouts is a must), and many bootlegs of his Fortune sides (the offspring of Jack and Devora Brown, known as the "Wig Brothers" because of their ill fitting hair pieces, being too stupid to do the job themselves and unwilling to lease the stuff to those more competent than them, although before she died Devora issued an LP of Andre's stuff-- Jailbait that featured some great unreleased stuff like "Is It True" and "Tossin' & Turnin' and Burnin' All Up Inside"), leaving the field wide open to bootleggers.      The past few years have been rough for Andre. His wife (the real one) passed on and he's been in and out of public housing and cheap flop houses. He had to quit drinking due to some serious health problems. Yet good things are happening too. Tricia Todd's documentary-- Agile, Hostile, Mobile: A Year With Andre Williams played at SXSW to great acclaim and should have a distribution deal soon. The trailer can be seen here. You can't keep a guy like Andre Williams down for long. At 72, despite the hard miles he's put on his body, he's still better looking (and better dressed) than Bill Wyman. I hope he lives to be a hundred. Friendship with Andre isn't always easy (or cheap) but I'm honored to know the guy.  Captions for the above photos from the top: top) Fortune Records poster that's a bit too big for my scanner. 2nd down) Note from Andre for you handwriting analysis freaks. middle) Outside the Lakeside Lounge, summer 2000 (left to right): Hal Wilner, Anita Pallenberg, Andre Williams. 2nd from bottom) Andre steals a kiss from the late Bill Pietsch. bottom)  Andre with the 5 Dollars, 1956.