20. 1.4.5.: "Your Own World"
I've grown tired of recounting the sad circumstances of Norm Mattice's death, weary of once again detailing the same tragic story of a talented singer and musician, a beloved member of the Syracuse music community, dying from exposure--homeless and alone--in Onondaga Lake Park. A commemorative plaque on a bench in that same park marks the happier memory of what was. The cautionary tale of Norm's demise can be found elsewhere, in reports written by me and by others. In this space, we celebrate Norm's positive legacy instead. But we do repeat one familiar, relevant point:
Norm Mattice was a rock star.
And he was a rock star even though the mass o' millions neither heard him nor heard of him, never saw him perform, never listened to any of his all-too-few recordings. Some things are just intrinsically true, even if there aren't enough witnesses to testify: Rock star. Yeah, that was Norm all right.
I had the great fortune of seeing Norm's first band Dress Code a handful of times in the late '70s/early '80s. I saw him with 1.4.5. in the '80s, and I saw Norm and the lads a time or three after 1.4.5. changed its name to The Richards. I was a fan, and I still am. I think I owned every song Norm released, from Dress Code's Alone In The Crowd EP through The Richards' Over The Top album. Um--that's actually almost his entire discography, I think. There was also The Richards' magnificent track "Five Personalities," first heard on a Swedish compilation CD called Pop Under The Surface Volume One (and later reprised on our own This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 3), but I only know of one other release to feature Norm: Rhythm n' Booze, the stunningly good 1988 LP by 1.4.5.
1.4.5. originally formed in 1980, led by guitarist Paul Armstrong of The Flashcubes, initially with bassist Dave Anderson and drummer Ducky Carlisle. Paul, Dave, and Duck had all been in Paul's first post-'Cubes band The Most. 1.4.5.'s line-up evolved a bit; Tommy O'Riley, formerly of The Most, The Hit Squad, and The 4, also served in 1.4.5., and Paul Armstrong was the group's only constant member. Witnessing a Dress Code performance, both Paul and Ducky declared ROCK STAR! and poached Norm to front 1.4.5. This new version of 1.4.5. ditched Syracuse for fresh headquarters in Boston, where...
...well, where they didn't become stars. But they should have.
Rhythm n' Booze certainly makes that case. By 1988, 1.4.5. was Paul, Norm, and bassist John Fortunato, with (I think) Ducky still drumming on the album's tracks. Together, this mob slapped together an unknown rockin' pop gem, a confident LP that cries out for wider notoriety. Rhythm n' Booze includes an ace cover of Slade's "Do We Still Do It," and an agreeable run-through of the Chan Romero via The Swinging Blue Jeans perennial "Hippy Hippy Shake." But the group originals freakin' rule here, from the carpe diem of "Right Now" and the pretty pop of "Girl In A Window" through the rambunctious, rampagin' "Here Come The Cops." There's even a (presumably) playful jab at many of the band's former Syracuse associates, "Famous Local Hero." I remember seeing Paul and Norm perform that at an acoustic Syracuse Songwriters Showcase, both mugging to great comedic effect as they changed the names in the song; a lyric about Paul's once and future Flashcubes partner Gary Frenay became "Larry was the prince of passion...."
I really wish someone would reissue this, and I really wish everyone could hear it, now and forevermore. We're gonna do our part to preserve my favorite track from Rhythm n' Booze: in the emotional aftermath of Norm's death, "Your Own World" was far and away TIRnRR's # 1 most-played track in 2016. There are two entirely different versions of "Your Own World;" this first-recorded version with Norm appeared on Rhythm n' Booze, and it was later redone by the group's original line-up, with Paul on lead vocals. Both versions rock, but that original version, with Norm? My friends, that's a flat-out classic that no one knows about yet. The riff hammers. The drums snap and crackle. The bass pummels, and the guitar draws blood. And, over and above it all, a rock star belts out the vocal as only a rock star can.
I didn't know Norm. As I've said before, I'm not positive we ever even exchanged a greeting over the decades of shared nightclubs and setlists, me in the audience, Norm on stage. But I was a fan. I knew a rock star when I saw one, and I for damned sure knew a rock star when I heard one.
Listen to this track. You'll hear a rock star, too.
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