NOTHING REALLY
MATTERS WHEN YOU'RE YOUNG
Sometimes
you start to wonder, what you're doing right
When
you're kissing with your lover all through the night
What
was different about you when you were in your teens?
If
you didn't wanna play their game, then you weren't part of the scene
Arty
Lenin's portrait of teen alienation provides a fitting intro as we look back on
an incredible pop band that the world forgot...no, scratch that, because Screen
Test was a band the world never really got to know in the first place. At best, they've become a footnote in
the story of The Flashcubes, a phenomenal power pop band from Syracuse, NY, who
broke up in obscurity in 1980, but whose stature grew in the ensuing decades to
the point that some pop fans now (rightly) refer to them as “legendary.”
Well, what
did they know?
And where
are they now?
Where
did they go
If
they're any place at all?
They
hurt you so
But
that was long ago
And
nothing really mattered when you were young
Oh
no, nothing really matters when you're young
It
was different in 1980. The
Flashcubes--hitless, unsigned, unsuccessful--were history, not likely to be
remembered as “legendary,” probably not likely to be remembered by many people
at all. Still, the demise of The
Flashcubes gave us two new, cool bands to replace the departed 'Cubes. Former Flashcubes guitarist Paul
Armstrong formed a spunky rock 'n' roll trio called 1.4.5., and the remaining
original 'Cubes--guitarist Lenin, bassist Gary Frenay, and drummer Tommy
Allen--became Screen Test.
Screen
Test was adamantly not The Flashcubes.
Subsequent pop history has seen The Flashcubes' status elevated
considerably, but in 1980 the 'Cubes were considered a thing of the past. Screen Test consciously set out to
carve its own niche in pop music, and --kinda like what Paul McCartney did in
going from The Beatles to Wings (if you'll forgive the comparison)--Screen Test
did so largely without playing many Flashcubes songs, concentrating instead on
great new material that would be specifically and identifiably Screen Test
music.
The
Flashcubes ended in August of 1980, when guitarist Mick Walker (Paul
Armstrong's replacement in the group) didn't show up for a 'Cubes gig, forcing
Gary, Arty and Tommy to play the gig as a three-piece. “We decided to change our name and
re-launch,” says Gary.
But
what to call this group that was not The Flashcubes? “I remember pushing for The Heartbeats and The Pinstripes,”
says Gary. “We all wrote lists of
names,” continues Tommy, “but couldn't agree on one--we had a gig booked, and
no name. I had the name 'Sneak
Preview,' and kinda liked it. I
ran into a fellow musician (Spencer Montague--now that's a cool name!) at the post office one day,
and he asked me what we were gonna call ourselves. I was trying to remember Sneak Preview, but 'Screen Test'
came out instead, a name that wasn't on any of our lists. When I said it, I liked it and ran it
by Gary and Arty...I guess they liked it, too!”
But
why change from The Flashcubes into Screen Test in the first place? “After Paul,” Gary recalls, “we thought
we'd be able to shed his--and thereby our--'punk' image.
But even as the totally power pop Mick lineup [of the 'Cubes], we still
got called that. It was a
reputation that would not go away.
So we thought, if nothing else, the name change will give us a fresh
start.
“In
retrospect, I think it was the single biggest mistake we made in our entire
career. Even bigger, in my
opinion, than jettisoning Paul from the original band. As three of the four original members,
we had just as much right to the Flashcubes name as the Mick lineup had. The band had so much press, and a true
national profile...and we tossed that all aside, so that we could start anew.”
Screen
Test made its live debut at The Lost Horizon in Syracuse on September 1st,
1980, three years to the day after The Flashcubes' first show. They played out often, and they didn't
waste any time getting back into the recording studio. Two Gary Frenay songs were cut as the
first Screen Test demos on November 11, 1980 at Sigma Sound in New York
City. “Sound Of The Radio”
(which Gary used to introduce live as “a song about how great radio used to be,
back when radio stations played The Kinks”) and “Growin' Up Too Fast” were
produced by Matt Weiner and Bruce Solomon. “Solomon worked for E.B. Marks Music in NYC,” says Gary,
“and these were done as demos for him to shop our songs for a record deal.”
A
bit closer to home (at Chase Media in nearby Skaneateles), Screen Test found
itself back in the recording studio on December 8, 1980, the night John Lennon
was killed. These sessions
provided the tracks for the first Screen Test EP, Inspired Humans Making
Noise, titled (fittingly)
after the phrase Lennon himself had used to describe the transcendence of rock
'n' roll music. The EP was
released in March of 1981 on the group's own Northside Records label.
The
EP kicked off in fine fashion with Gary's “Anytime,” a confident rockin' pop
number propelled by a simple, monster riff that immediately owned any room it
entered. “There's No Place Like
Work,” Arty's danceable ode to the work ethic, and “I Am Sincere,” Gary's
winningly earnest placing of heart on sleeve, further contributed to a perfect
pop EP. A message etched in the
record's inner groove--“Finger & Berries”-- eagerly admitted Screen Test's
debt to the music of Badfinger and The Raspberries, and the tracks on the EP
carried forth that tradition with pride and distinction.
But
the showstopper was Arty's “Nothing Really Matters When You're Young,” a
devastating screed of discarded hearts, broken promises, and square-peg
disillusionment, delivered with a stiff upper lip and an inherent buoyancy that
belies its bitter origin. (Another
terrific Arty tune, “I Won't Trust You Anymore,” was also recorded at the EP
sessions, but has been unreleased until now. A cover of The Beatles' “Thank You, Girl,” recorded at these
sessions as a tribute to the late Lennon, remains unissued.)
Screen
Test continued to gig constantly, traveling frequently to New York City for
dates at Trax, The China Club and CBGB's, plus Spit and The Rat in Boston, and
numerous local jobs, including a spot opening for U2 (at a club located within
a shopping center, no less) in May of 1981. In June of '81, Screen Test returned to Skaneateles to
record tracks for the second single, this time with longtime associate Ducky
Carlisle producing.
That
single, Gary's “Suellen” backed with Arty's “Girl's Brand New,” was released on
Northside in January 1982. After
the single's release, Screen Test expanded to a quartet with the addition of
keyboardist Wells Christie. The
addition was short-lived, and Christie was out of the band by the end of March.
On
April 1, 1982, the Screen Test trio convened at Minot Sound in White Plains, NY
to record master demos for Atlantic Records. At the helm was British producer Mark Dodson, who'd
previously worked with Joan Jett and Greg Kihn, and on Bow Wow Wow's hit cover
of The Strangeloves' “I Want Candy.”
These sessions produced completed tracks of two Gary Frenay songs, “I
Get Restless” and “You Don't Know Me,” both presented here. Also recorded were a remake of “There's
No Place Like Work” and a cover of Greg Kihn's “Hurt So Bad” (which Dodson
suggested), though neither track was ever released. An incomplete version of “Nothing To Say To You” was
shelved, then eventually overdubbed and completed as a Flashcubes track in
1999.
The
tracks were excellent, but no contract with Atlantic (or anyone else)
materialized. “You Don't Know Me”
was included on a sampler album (Son Of Soundcheck) compiled by local radio station 95X in
1982. The track would return in a
slightly higher-profile venue before too long.
In
March of 1983, Screen Test recorded the still-unreleased 19 Big Ones, a collection of four-track demos
produced by Ducky, preserving 19 otherwise-unrecorded Screen Test gems. Meanwhile, Screen Test returned to
Chase Media in Skaneateles to cut another track, “I Know It's Over,” in April
of '83. But still, no more records
were released at the time, nor were any record labels beating a path to
Syracuse to sign these kids up.
Maybe a more dramatic means of getting attention was necessary.
By
now, MTV's conquest of popular music was well under way, and a video seemed the
very '80s thing for Screen Test to do.
“A former Syracusan, Tom Garber, saw us play in New York City,” says
Gary. “[He] was doing video work
and asked us to come down to Long Island for a video shoot. He storyboarded the whole thing, hired
the actress, got the club and soundstage to shoot at, and we did it.”
“It”
was Screen Test's only video, made for “You Don't Know Me.” A thoroughly professional effort, the
video served as an effective accompaniment to Gary's hauntingly pretty tune
about a regrettable one night stand.
It was relatively free of the many cliches already rife within rock
videos in 1983, perhaps not groundbreaking, but both of a piece with the video
landscape circa '83 while not seeming overly dated today. It would have been a fine addition to
MTV's power rotation.
It
did, at least, get one spin, anyway.
MTV's
Basement Tapes was a
television showcase for unsigned bands, competing for audience votes and (one
presumed) eventual stardom. On
August 10th, 1983, Screen Test made its one-and-only national television appearance,
as the video for “You Don't Know Me” competed on Basement Tapes.
It
was a heady experience. Prior to
the big night, Gary, Arty and Tommy had pulled out all the stops in promoting
the event. They'd contacted
everyone, from current fans to old members of The Flashcubes International Fan
Club. They'd arranged for plenty
of local media coverage, and many Central New Yorkers were quite prepared to
support the local boys now poised to make good.
But
it wasn't to be. Screen Test came
in third, with the honors going to a Boston act called Digney Fignus (all
together now: “WHO?!”). Still, Screen Test managed a strong
showing; “We finished third behind bands from Boston and Miami,” says Gary,
“which, being such large markets, was some consolation. I can't tell you the number of people
over the years who still
come up to me and say, 'I voted for you on MTV!'”
Screen
Test again returned to Chase Media on November 9, 1983 to cut three more
tracks, Gary's “We've Gone Too Far” and “It's No Secret” and Arty's “What Is
Wrong With This Picture.” It would
be the last full-fledged Screen Test recording session for some time.
It's
tempting to believe that Screen Test's loss on MTV's Basement Tapes served to slow the group's momentum,
though it's probably not accurate.
But one wonders if things were beginning to change within the
group. “I recall that there was a
point in 1982,” says Gary, “when we talked quite seriously about relocating to
Boston or New York City. I began
saving toward that end, and was surprised to discover, several months later,
that I was the only one who was!
After that, I just decided that I had to put myself first, and the band
second, and that included getting married. Jackie and I had been together for five years at that point,
and it was certainly time.”
Gary
got married in July of 1984. If
married life had any effect on the band, it wasn't immediately apparent. In September of 1984, Screen Test
investigated the possibility of raising its profile by having Marshall Crenshaw
produce them. Crenshaw was
certainly a marquee name in indie pop at the time, and it seemed an ideal
match. Contacts were made, but the
group wound up concluding that they couldn't afford Crenshaw's asking
price. “I seem to remember $10,000
as a figure that was quoted at the time,” says Gary. “Actually not a bad deal, given his notoriety at the
time.” Screen Test friend and fan
Pat Pierson also arranged contact with Mitch Easter, whose work with R.E.M. and
his own band Let's Active had certainly made him one of the hottest pop
producers of the time; Easter did reply to the contact, but things never quite
fell into place.
In
December 1984, Screen Test became a quartet again, as keyboardist Jim Carney
joined the group. “It was the
'80s,” says Gary, “and everywhere we turned there were keyboards. The songs Arty and I were writing
implied more sonically than just the three-piece could cover. The first choice, Wells Christie, was a
disaster, and only lasted a few months...I barely remember playing with him.”
The following May, June and July of 1985
found Screen Test once again camped at Chase Media, cutting (among others)
Gary's “This Is Fiction” and Arty's “Old Man & The Sea.” And life went on. Early in 1986, Screen Test also set up
shop at UCA Studio in Utica, NY for additional studio sessions. Among the tracks recorded here were
Arty's “Waste Of Time” and “Feather Dancer” (the latter recorded live in the
studio to digital 2-track), and a lovely Frenay-Carney composition called “I'll
Never Forget You.” These would be
the final Screen Test recordings.
Still keep thinkin' 'bout the young sweet girl
She told me she would marry me when we got out of school
She
started dating the boy down the street 'cause he got a brand new
car
A
week or so was all that it could last
She
had to make it through the senior class
What
did they know...?
(Perhaps
further aggravating this situation was the fact that Arty was living with Jim
by this time. “Arty grew to
dislike the arrangement,” says Gary.
“Not Jim, necessarily, but living with him. Jim would practice piano sometimes six hours a day, very
hard to live with for anyone. And
despite some of the gains musically--we did like a lot of it--it was clear that Jim
was not really one of us.”)
Tracks
from the '85 Chase Media sessions and the '86 UCA sessions were combined as Screen
Test, an eponymous,
twelve-song cassette released in June of 1986. Maddeningly, incomprehensibly, Screen Test still could not
find a record label interested in its material. As Tommy's brother Bob Allen recalls, “I wish I could locate
the letter I received in '84 (I think) from [former Raspberries producer] Jimmy
Ienner, which said that while he loved the Screen Test tunes I had sent him, he
'just didn't hear any hits.'” With
no record label backing, the Screen Test cassette was self-released, almost as a souvenir. In September of 1986, Tommy Allen
played his last gig with Screen Test and relocated to New York City.
“We
had played The China Club a few times in 1986,” says Gary, “and Tommy's sister
Sarah was dating the owner. And
Tommy saw the chance to get a job at the club, because of her connection. And honestly, we were sort of out of
gas by then. We had played twenty
weeks of that year, four nights a week, at the Sheraton Inn [in Syracuse]. We had done what we thought were our
best recordings to date that spring, but had been unable to get anyone really
interested in them. We continually
made the decision not
to release things on our own, as we were always sure that a record deal was
just around the corner. Hope
springs eternal...!”
Gary
and Arty attempted to soldier on, recruiting Ed Steele on drums and--well, this is interesting!--latter-day Flashcube
Mick Walker back again on guitar.
“Mick was quickly dismissed after he and Arty had words,” says Gary,
“and we added Ed's brother Steve to the line-up. We actually still played a few dates as Screen Test in that
line-up--opened for KBC Band, played at The Landmark [a beautiful old movie
theater in Syracuse], and even went down to New York City to The China Club, to
play with Tommy--but sputtered out quickly, and just went on as The Neverly
Brothers.” One final Screen Test
single was released posthumously in 1987, as the Frenay-Carney tune “I'll Never
Forget You” (from the UCA sessions, previously released on the Screen Test cassette) was issued as a 45 in memory of
basketball player Len Bias. The
lyrics, reflecting on a lost love, proved prescient, and could apply equally to
the late Len Bias, or to Screen Test itself: “I'll never forget you/If I live for a hundred years/No,
I'll never forget you/And I'll never believe that it wasn't meant to be.”
The
Neverly Brothers had begun in the early '80s as a side project for Gary and
Arty, an acoustic duo specializing in oldies covers. As Screen Test faded to black, cover gigs became Gary and
Arty's primary live venue, sometimes as just the two of them, sometimes
supplemented by other musicians.
Frenay and Lenin original songs still found their way into Neverly
Brothers set lists--it would have been a crime against pop music otherwise--but
these tunes weren't the primary interest of those tipsy bar patrons calling out
requests for CCR and Van Morrison.
This
image paints a much drearier portrait than the reality of Gary, Arty and
Tommy's life after Screen Test deserves.
Tommy became active in production, toured as a drummer with Paul Young
and Robin Beck, and helped develop pop acts like The Sighs and Kara's Flowers
(the latter now known as hitmakers Maroon 5). Gary and Arty's partnership was interrupted in 1990, when
Arty relocated to New York for a time, where he joined The Paul Collins Band,
the act fronted by the legendary former leader of Paul Collins' Beat; Arty
appeared on the 1993 Paul Collins Band CD From Town To Town.
Gary stayed in Syracuse, continued to write songs, and won SAMMYs
(Syracuse Area Music Awards) as Best Songwriter. He played solo and in various combos (eventually reuniting
with Arty), and released two solo albums nationally, Armory Square and Jigsaw People. No one in Screen Test was looking back.
“Honestly,”
says Gary, “I think in 1987, because I had just signed a publishing deal with
China Doll Music, I probably hoped that all these years later we'd be talking
about all those hit songs I wrote.
It's funny, everything is always so egocentric. When The Flashcubes was done, it was
done. 'Let's be Screen Test...we'll
kill!' Then when that was done, it was, 'Man, I'm gonna score
so many song covers!' I guess I
was just always so busy looking forward, that I never really looked back in any
kind of accurate way. And it
wasn't until my solo career kind of sputtered out, in the late '90s, that I
started to assess in any kind of real sense. By then, of course, all of the Flashcubes stuff was already
happening....”
Still,
even as The Flashcubes suddenly and unexpectedly rose like a really loud
phoenix from the ashes, some wondered what became of Gary, Arty and Tommy's other great pop group. “I would always get people coming up to
me at the [Flashcubes] reunions,” says Gary, “saying, 'Yeah, this is great, but
what about the Screen Test stuff? That was your best stuff!' And that is what Arty, Tommy and I have
always felt, that our best songwriting, and our best recordings (until [The
Flashcubes' 2003 album] Brilliant) were as Screen Test.
I say this without any disparagement towards Paul, and all that the
'Cubes mean to all of us. But
remember, we only played with Paul, the first time, for 23 months, and Arty,
Tommy and I were together in one form or another for nine straight years. There's just no comparison.”
“When
I listen to the songs,” adds Tommy, “ it really sounds like Screen Test to
me. In all the years I've been
playing music, there has been nothing as consistently satisfying to me as
playing the songs of Gary Frenay and Arty Lenin. Their songs have left an indelible mark on my musical
genetic code, and I feel lucky to have been a part of it.”
"It's
funny,” continues Gary. “We always
felt a little inadequate as a three piece band, always felt that we needed
something more, thus the keyboard players. And in the industry, that was also the response we'd get: 'A
three-piece pop band?
C'mon...!' Then in 1987,
when we were history, along came Crowded House, a three-piece pop band, with
hit singles and all kinds of success!
“In
assembling the anthology and listening to old live tapes, we realized that the
three-piece band was our finest hour.
And that's why, where possible, we've always gone with a three-piece
version of a song rather than a keyboards version. Might've sounded good then, but not anymore! Long live the three-piece pop
band!!”
If
only it hadn't taken the world at large so long to learn that simple lesson.
You can't
really think about life bein' fair
Because
you can't forget the faces that took away your share
But
what did they know, and where are they now? In February of 2004, it was my great fortune to attend a
full-fledged Screen Test reunion show in Syracuse. Gary and Arty's British Invasion cover band, The Fab Five,
had been booked to play a gig commemorating the 40th anniversary of The
Beatles' first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show.
For an event billed as “From Liverpool UK to Liverpool USA,” The Fab
Five were to play two sets of British Invasion covers, including one set
duplicating all of the songs The Beatles played on their first three Sullivan appearances. Then, The Fab Five would serve as backing band for sets by
Terry Sylvester of The Hollies and Joey Molland of Badfinger. A nice evening out, it would seem.
One
hitch: Fab Five drummer Paul
Miller (Arty's brother) wasn't as familiar with the Badfinger material; he was
perfectly comfortable with the Hollies songs, but he thought it best that the
group find another drummer for Joey Molland's set.
And
a light bulb appeared over Gary's head:
“Let's call Tommy!,” he said.
So Tommy would travel from New York to
Syracuse for the Friday night event.
And, with Tommy in town anyway, why not have him join Gary and Arty for
their regular Thursday night gig?
And
everything clicked. Rather than
perform their usual Thursday night cover gig (which, mind you, they do brilliantly),
all agreed that this would be a Screen Test show, featuring just Screen Test
songs, many of which had not been played live in over twenty years. It sounded as if not twenty minutes had
passed--it was The Lost Horizon, The Jabberwocky, The Firebarn, and all of the
other now-defunct Central New York nightspots that Screen Test had played in
its original run, the vibrance, the songcraft, the sheer, unsullied joy of
nonpareil Syracuse rockin' pop music from the '80s transported unharmed into
the 21st century. When Joey
Molland turned up to join Screen Test on-stage for an impromptu rendition of
Badfinger's “No Matter What,” it merely capped an already-transcendent evening. And Tommy, in particular, looked
like he was in Heaven.
One
final digression: sometime circa
the summer of 1981, I went to see Screen Test play at The Firebarn, my very
favorite local bar; it would be the last time I ever went there, but I didn't
know that at the time. It may also
have been the first time I ever met my future radio partner Dana Bonn, but
we're never gonna know that for sure.
I
had moved out of Syracuse by then, and was just back for a short visit. I decided to wear my Flashcubes T-shirt
to the show; oddly enough, a number of other fans also decided to wear their
'Cubes T-shirts that night, something that really didn't happen all that
often. Noticing more Flashcubes
T-shirts than he'd seen since 1978, Gary went and did the unthinkable: he led Screen Test through an old
Flashcubes song, an unreleased live favorite called “Social Mobility.”
It
was friggin' MAGIC. Sure, 1978 to
1981 was hardly a large span of time, but it seemed a giant leap to bridge
those two very different years, and “Social Mobility” made it all seem one. Screen Test's show was awesome, as
always, but that one song stands out, not because it was better than (nor even
as good as) Screen Test classics like “Sound Of The Radio” or “Nothing Really
Matters When You're Young,” but because it linked how cool Screen Test was with
how cool The Flashcubes had been.
Because
what's cool once is cool forever.
I later ripped that phrase off from Greg Shaw, but that Screen Test show
was the first time I became fully conscious of its truth. There was something vital here; it
wasn't just a pretty good local band I liked when I was a teenager; it was a
great band, as good as anyone, anywhere, any time, potentially with great
appeal to a great number of people.
As time wore on, and Gary and Arty moved from Screen Test into The
Neverly Brothers, they wouldn't dip into the 'Cubes (nor even early Screen
Test) canon often, but when they did, the connection was electric and
instantaneous. And each time I
witnessed it, I became further convinced that the legacy of The Flashcubes and
Screen Test was important, worth preserving and worth expanding. For me, that appreciation started at
The Firebarn in 1981, when a bunch of Flashcubes T-shirts inspired an epiphany
that should have been so obvious, yet was a revelation nonetheless.
(Incidentally,
based on anecdotal evidence in a Chris von Sneidern interview I once read, I
believe that same night at The Firebarn may also have been the first live rock
'n' roll show that CVS ever saw, thus indirectly inspiring HIS great pop
work. From small things, mama, big
things one day come.)
Nothing
really matters when you're young? Everything matters when you're young; minor snubs
become the stuff of grand drama, tiny little wounds seem to draw blood, each
little wave of emotion threatens to inundate and drown your floundering heart. And it's all real, and no one else
seems to understand. But it
matters, then, now, and for as long as your memories live.
Where
did they go?
Where
did they go?
You've
never heard of Screen Test? Well,
y'know, that doesn't
really matter, not anymore, because you're about to get another chance. So may I introduce to you, the act
you've missed for all these years....
Screen Test's Inspired Humans Making Noise is still available as a download from CD Baby: http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/screentest
"Nothing Really Matters When You're Young" written by Arty Lenin
"I'll Never Forget You" written by Gary Frenay
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