Showing posts with label Syracuse New Times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Syracuse New Times. Show all posts

Saturday, November 13, 2021

POP-A-LOOZA: Talk Talk: My Brief Career As A Freelance Interviewer

 

Each week, the pop culture website Pop-A-Looza shares some posts from my vast 'n' captivating Boppin' (Like The Hip Folks Do) archives. The latest shared post is a look back at my brief career as a freelance interviewer, a tale told under the title "Talk Talk."

A handful of my old interviews have been reprinted on this very blog. As you click around the Boppin' grounds, you can find my interviews with Cyril Jordan of the Flamin' Groovies, Gary Frenay and Paul Armstrong of the Flashcubes, Nuggets visionary Lenny KayeMark Lindsay of Paul Revere and the Raiders, Sal Valentino of the Beau Brummels, Dick Dodd of the Standells, Barry Tashian of the Remains, Cathy Kensington (Cathy VanPatten) of the Poptarts, Maura Kennedy of the Kennedys, Danny Bonn of the Dead Ducks, and Charlie Robbins of the Tearjerkers. You can also read a piece I wrote about the Skeletons, based upon an interview with the group's bassist Lou Whitney. And my lengthy histories of power pop and bubblegum music incorporate interviews with a ton of performers, producers, and pundits.

There are still a bunch more of these old interviews stored in my records, and some of them may yet see the light of day again. In the mean time, an overview of the times I talked to the Ramones, Joan Jett, Greg Kihn, and others serves as the latest Boppin' Pop-A-Looza.



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This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.

The many fine This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio compilation albums are still available, each full of that rockin' pop sound you crave. A portion of all sales benefit our perpetually cash-strapped community radio project:


Volume 1: download

Volume 2: CD or download
Volume 3: download
Volume 4: CD or download
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I'm on Twitter @CafarelliCarl.


Thursday, April 18, 2019

The Syracuse New Times



Yesterday, The Syracuse New Times published its 50th anniversary issue. No, it wasn't the one you see above, with Dana & Carl on the cover. But it was a special issue nonetheless, commemorating an illustrious five-decade run as Syracuse's weekly alternative newspaper.

It was also the final free SNT. Starting next week, ya gotta pay for what you get. It's worth it to me. Yesterday I sent The Syracuse New Times $52 to cover the cost of a one-year subscription. If you live in the Syracuse area, I recommend you do the same.

Why? Because content is not free. Content shouldn't be free. That may seem like a strange statement coming from someone who operates a free daily blog, but honestly, if you like what you read here, you should be paying me, too. You should certainly be willing to pay for local reporting, local news, local arts and entertainment coverage. Because if you don't support it, it goes away. And we would all be the poorer for that, much poorer than the debit of a mere $52 flyin' outta the wallet.

I don't have any current affiliation with The Syracuse New Times. I freelanced for SNT a long time ago, but I've also occasionally been pissed off at the New Times, too. That's okay. Whatever quarrels I've ever had with editorial decisions at The Syracuse New Times, they're insignificant compared with the certainty of how much I would miss SNT if it wasn't there for me each and every week.

My first issue of The Syracuse New Times predates the free era anyway; a copy cost something like fifty cents when I was drawn to a cover featuring DC Comics superheroes, staring back at me on the rack at Van Patten's Grocery Store in North Syracuse some time in the mid '70s. Had to have it. I don't remember anything about it now, but it was the start of a long and often hot 'n' heavy relationship.

When I was a college student in the late '70s, my interest in all things punk rock drew me to the New Times, with its coverage of The Flashcubes, The Ohms, The Poptarts, and all of the other bright lights of the then-bourgeoning Syracuse new wave scene. I went to school elsewhere, but The Syracuse New Times was one of my essential tethers to all of the fantastic music being made in my home town. Plus, it was free by then. When I returned to Syracuse in the late '80s, the SNT was an immediate and prevailing part of my renewed Syracuse experience.

In the early '90s, I got to know a few SNT staffers through my friend Dave Murray, who had freelanced for the paper years before, and this led to my own brilliant SNT freelancing career. And in 2006, the same Mr. Murray wrote an SNT cover story about the beauty, the splendor, and the wonder of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. Clearly, The Syracuse New Times has taste.

And I say you should support it. Until May 15th, a year's subscription to The Syracuse New Times is only $52, a buck an issue. Chump change. The price goes up to a buck anna half per after that, but you're smart enough to sign up now at my.syracusenewtimes.com

Our minds are free. Our information and entertainment are not.



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You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-OpRay PaulCirce Link & Christian NesmithVegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie FlowersThe SlapbacksP. HuxIrene PeñaMichael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave MerrittThe RubinoosStepford KnivesThe Grip WeedsPopdudesRonnie DarkThe FlashcubesChris von SneidernThe Bottle Kids1.4.5.The SmithereensPaul Collins' BeatThe Hit SquadThe RulersThe Legal MattersMaura & the Bright LightsLisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Talk Talk: My Brief Career As A Freelance Interviewer



My thoughts drifted back recently to the worst interview I ever did. I'm not talking about job interviews--I've had several less-than-stellar results there--but interviews I conducted for my freelance writing work. The car-wreck status of this particular interview was entirely my fault, and the interviewee bore zero percent responsibility for the ways in which the discussion went south. Frankly, I just wasn't prepared; it was supposed to be color commentary for something I was writing, it was a subject with which I had some familiarity, so I figured we'd wing it, just chat off the cuff. Big mistake. Without background information, without the wealth of reference material I usually gathered at my fingertips to scan during interviews, without any prepared potential questions to ask, the conversation floundered and failed. It was not my finest hour. My interviewee was game and accommodating, but I'm sure after our fruitless session concluded, an under-the-breath muttering of Well, this Carl guy's an idiot would not have been inappropriate. A simple and stupid miscalculation on my part, but it still bugs me, decades later, even though I'm the only one who remembers it.

Because I was usually better than that. A lot better than that. I won't say I was ever a terrific interviewer, but I was more than adequate, and occasionally pretty good at it. More than one interview subject--both Joan Jett and Ben Vaughn spring to mind--complimented my preparedness, and most seemed pleased with the experience and the result. 



Most of my interviews were conducted on behalf of Goldmine, though I did a few for The Syracuse New Times and one each for DISCoveries and Yeah Yeah Yeah. I can't remember the identity of my first interview subjects; might have been Tom Prendergast and Glenn Morrow of Bar/None Records, which I profiled for a Goldmine record label spotlight in the early '90s. Although I began freelancing for Goldmine in 1986, and began writing GM feature articles in '87 (commencing with a retrospective of The Bay City Rollers), my features were research pieces, compiled from previously-published resources and tied together with my attempts at overview and analysis. This was also true of my subsequent features on KISSThe Monkees, The Ugly Ducklings, Toni Basil, Barry Mann, and--Lord help me--Stars On 45, though I recall interviewing a KISS fan or two to gather background info. I interviewed Cyril Jordan in 1992 for a long history of The Flamin' Groovies, and he was probably my first musician interview.

So I did a few more: Joan Jett, Ben Vaughn, The Ramones, Ron Dante, Joey Levine, Greg Kihn, Gary Frenay and Paul Armstrong of The Flashcubes (for The Syracuse New Times, for whom I also interviewed a few other local musicians, some local radio movers und shakers, even some preschool educators for an ultimately unfinished report on alternative education), Lou Whitney of The Skeletons, Mark Lindsay, Lenny Kaye, Dick Dodd, Barry Tashian, bubblegum producers Kasenetz and Katz, Ray Paul, bubblegum expert/aficionado Bill Pitzonka, writer Mark Evanier, Greg Spencer of Blue Wave Records, and possibly some others I don't recall in the moment. 

But I grew tired of doing phone interviews; transcribing such things is thankless drudgery, so I decided to discontinue doing them. Most of the interviews for my history of power pop were conducted via email (although those actually predate my Nuggets and bubblegum telephone interviews). Even if I were to ever take on another freelance assignment, I'm unlikely to do any further telephone interviews. It's just not worth it to me.

Dana and I have done a few interviews on This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, though technical complications at our nearly-Flintstones-level studio basically preclude the viability of phone interviews. Such kerfrazzles swallowed our attempted on-air interview with The Charms' lead singer Ellie Vee, who gamely soldiered on through a chat where listeners could hear me but couldn't pick up anything she said (forcing me to repeat all of her responses for the audience: Ellie says she's happy to be here on TIRnRR!). It was not a situation designed to inspire confidence in performer or audience.

I really wasn't a bad interviewer. Other than that one jarring incident of trying to tackle an interview without sufficient prep, I've been able to come up with the questions the interview required. In-person interviews are a true rarity, but I've done all right when guests have appeared in-studio on TIRnRR. But that one bad interview? It was decades ago, yet I know it's always going to bother me. I try to hold myself to at least a tiny bit higher standard than that one.



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You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-OpRay PaulCirce Link & Christian NesmithVegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie FlowersThe SlapbacksP. HuxIrene PeñaMichael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave MerrittThe RubinoosStepford KnivesThe Grip WeedsPopdudesRonnie DarkThe FlashcubesChris von SneidernThe Bottle Kids1.4.5.The SmithereensPaul Collins' BeatThe Hit SquadThe RulersThe Legal MattersMaura & the Bright LightsLisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

CATHY VANPATTEN of THE POPTARTS: The 1997 BRIGHT LIGHTS Interview


L-R:  Meegan Voss, Susan Mersey, Gael McGear, Cathy Kensington, Margie Shears...THE POPTARTS!

With the ol' clock on the wall ticking closer and closer to our big 2016 BRIGHT LIGHTS! Syracuse new wave rock 'n' roll reunion party on July 3rd (as detailed here), let's dig deeper into the archives for some first-person accounts of the late '70s/early '80s local scene that BRIGHT LIGHTS! celebrates.  These interviews were conducted by me in 1997, as background for a Syracuse New Times article on The Flashcubes and other great bands playing around the 'Cuse during that three-chord-charged time frame; it was published the week of The Flashcubes' 20th anniversary show, which was also a release party for The Flashcubes' anthology CD Bright Lights.  The article itself can be found here.  This is the first publication of the complete interviews.

Hey, wanna go to the BRIGHT LIGHTS! show?  Of course you do!  Get yer tickets, man!

The very first song played on the very first edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl was "I Won't Let You Let Me Go" by The Poptarts.  The Poptarts were one of my favorite groups in this Bright Lights scene, an all-female quintet whose embrace of the '60s girl-group sound filtered through British Invasion rock 'n' roll and the DIY spirit of punk--but all in a decidedly pop package--presaged the success of The Go-Go'sGary Frenay of The Flashcubes said that The Poptarts and The Ohms were his two favorite local bands, at least in terms of songwriting accomplishment.  The Ohms were far more accomplished musically than The Poptarts ever managed to be, but make no mistake here:  The Poptarts were a brilliant pop band, and they would have only gotten even better if their time hadn't run out.

There were but five Poptarts ever:  lead singer Gael McGear (Gael Sweeney), guitarists Meegan Voss (Debbie Redmond) and Cathy Kensington (Cathy VanPatten), bassist Margie Shears (Margie Fine), and drummer Susan Mersey (Susan Jaffe), with Flashcubes guitarist Arty Lenin sitting in on drums for the group's earliest gigs (while Susan was still learning to play; she was referred to as "featured dancer" at that initial stage).

Yep.  The Poptarts started playing out before their drummer was even ready to join them.  Forgive the expression--especially when referring to an all-female group--but man, that took balls.  The Poptarts were not the kind of band to back away from a challenge, not ever, no how.

My 1997 Bright Lights interviews included separate chats with Cathy VanPatten, Meegan Voss (the stage name she still uses today), and Gael Sweeney (the latter a joint interview that included Gael's husband, David Soule, who was himself a part of the scene as a member of The Tearjerkers).  Alas, the interviews came at a rough period in The Poptarts' history, as a proposed CD anthology of the group's demos had become a source of considerable contention.  The members of The Poptarts have since made amends, and I would prefer not to reopen old wounds.

But The Poptarts were a very, very important part of this scene, and their story needs to be preserved.  I will be taking another look at my interviews with Meegan and Gael (and David) at some point in the future, and will likely share at least a part of those interviews here eventually.  For now, though, let's make those lights brighter, and settle down for a conversation with the lovely and talented Cathy VanPatten.

The cover of a recent issue of Rolling Stone refers to The Spice Girls as "Poptarts."

Yeah, I know.  Actually, I didn't see it, but my husband saw it in the check-out line at the supermarket.

How did you come into the Syracuse new wave scene originally?

Yeah, it was through Mark Roberts, because he was the lead singer for The Tearjerkers as Buddy Love.  And actually, I don't know if I have the chronology straight.  Let me think here...yeah, actually we went out to see him, because he kept saying [we should].  It was Gael and Susan and I were roommates, we were grad students in the English Department, and we went to see him because he kept saying, "Oh, ya gotta come out, you gotta come out!"  And he was opening for, the band he was opening for was The Flashcubes.  And I think it was at The Orange.  And we went out to see him, and we thought he was great.  He had all these corny jokes, you know, about having cucumbers in his pocket and all that stuff [laughs].  And then he pulled out a cucumber, and I'm like, "Oh my God!" [laughs]

But I mean, they were just really refreshingly bad.  It was the sort of music that you just didn't hear on the radio.  Actually, I had stopped listening to music on the radio and goin' out to see bands, 'cause it was all disco and stuff, and I hated that stuff.  So I thought, "Eh, what's out there?  Well, we'll go out and see."  And it was really fun.  And it was fun to go out, and go out on a dance floor and actually dance to something that wasn't the Hustle.  And then The Flashcubes came out, and we really liked them, but I think at first we liked The Tearjerkers better, because they were more raw.  The Flashcubes actually, after The Tearjerkers, seemed to be pretty polished [laughs].

So we eventually though started to go out and see The Flashcubes as stuff to do, because The Tearjerkers didn't play all that much after a while.  And the way we got into The Poptarts was--though if you've talked to Gael, you'll probably know this already [laughs]--well, we had our own little pretend band, Susan and Gael and I, called The Ball Turret Gunners, which is an English major reference to a poem.  And Mark was giving a reading, and there was a party afterwards.  And we had heard stories that Meegan wanted to put a band together. But we barely knew her, so we didn't feel very comfortable comin' up to her and saying, "Hey, can we be in your band?  We kinda have our own pretend band here [laughs]."  We took a bunch of Beatles records, and on those old records you can turn the vocal tracks off, so you can just hear the music.  And, although Susan didn't sing on these, Gael and I put in our own versions of the songs, with a little different harmonies.  But we thought it sounded okay, and we made a tape of it.  And then at the party, after Mark's reading, where Meegan was at the party, Gael went and slipped it into the tape deck [laughs].  And Meegan said, "Oh my God, that's exactly what I'm thinking of!  We have to get together!"

So we literally picked up our instruments.  I mean, the only way I got to be a guitar player was because my brother had an electric guitar and an amp that he sent up to me from my home town in Virginia [laughs].  Otherwise, I was gonna be the drummer.  As it turned out later, I found out I had absolutely no aptitude for drumming, so it was probably a good thing [laughs].  So that's how it happened.  And I guess we played for...well, we practiced for about two weeks before we had our first job.  And I think it was opening for The Dead Ducks.  I think it was The Dead Ducks, I think it was.  Because I know it was in The Firebarn, and I even know what dress I wore [laughs].

Was it a mini the first time out?

Yeah, it was.  It was a red velvet mini dress with a big white Edwardian sort of bib detail on it, that I never wore again, because it was way, way too hot to be on stage in it.

Dead Ducks guitarist Dan Bonn mentioned a Poptarts gig at The Insomniac, where you all wore nighties on stage.

Oh yes, we did, actually!  And you know, Susan's parents were at that gig.  They had come up--she was from Florida originally, from somewhere near Miami--and they had actually been sort of footing the bill for her for a while, so she could spend all her time practicing drumming.  And they came up to see whether they were getting a return on their money [laughs].  And here they were in this dark, really loud club, and their daughter was up with a drum kit in her nighties [laughs], little short nighties.  Yeah, that's right.  Oh, man!

Tell me a little bit about some of the other bands playing around that time:  The Ohms, The Dead Ducks, The Penetrators....

Oh gosh, The PenetratorsThe Ohms, of course, was Ducky [Carlisle] and Zenny Caucasian and then...I can't remember the other.

Originally, it was Rick Suburban, and then Keith Vincellette replaced him.

Oh right!  He went out with Margie for a while.  It was a really incestuous scene.  The funny thing was, one of the things I remember was, depending on who was dating whom, or who was angry at whom for whatever thing they might have said about a band or a band member--you know, every week you needed a scorecard as to who was your friend, who wasn't your friend, who you were talking to, who you weren't, you know, who was cool, who wasn't [laughs].  It was really pretty hectic sometimes.

Well, let's see:  there were The Ohms, and of course The Dead Ducks, and Distortion...

I saw Distortion's first gig, and then never saw 'em again.

Yeah, that was...I don't know, it seems like Pam Tiger was around the scene a lot, but that was her real name.  And then she went by the name of Sheena.  She was the drummer.  The thing I remember most about Distortion, because I saw them a few times, a lot of times they would do group gigs, like if there were three or four bands on a bill with nobody headlining.  They'd be in on that.  But I remember their very first gig, they had a poster that said, "DISTORTION, with Three Bob, at midnight."  And for some reason I kept thinking the guy...shoot, I can't think of his last name.  Actually, the last time I saw him was in San Francisco, with Orbit and all those guys [who] were in San Francisco for a while.  And I kept thinking his name was Three Bob At Midnight [laughs].  Not that they were gonna play at midnight [laughs], that never occurred to me.

Yeah, let's see...Distortion, and Dian Zain, who was kind of persona non grata for The Poptarts.  I mean, I never could quite figure out why she was so disliked.  She was never mean to me.  Although there was one time that I actually got a really horrible shock from a microphone, because the ground on my amp got somehow switched [laughs] from the soundcheck.  You know, it was okay in the soundcheck, and it seemed to be okay through half the set, and then at one point I just kind of leaned into the mic, touched it with my lips, and got thrown back about two feet.  And then we found out that somebody had switched the ground on the amp.  And then, of course, everybody was, "Well, it was Dian!  It was Dian!" [laughs] I'm thinking, "Well, how could she do that with nobody seeing her?" [laughs]

How about the post-Buddy Love Tearjerkers?

Oh yeah, I'm well-acquainted with them [laughs].  Yeah, they were a great band.  And of course Charlie Robbins was a fixture on the scene back then.

The Flashcubes seemed to be at the center of the scene.

Yeah.  The thing was, they were always...they were kind of the great white hope, sort of.  I think everybody just figured they were gonna get signed at some point.  And every other band sort of figured that they would go on the coattails, you know?  Especially in The Poptarts, when we started to get a little bit of label interest, we kind of learned from what had happened to The Flashcubes, that every time somebody was interested, everybody on the scene would know about it.  They'd be, "Oh yeah, the Atlantic guy is comin'!  Oh yeah!"  And they got let down so many times, and then they felt, you know, it was embarrassing and everything.  So I think we just kind of, whenever we got any kind of interest, we sort of kept it quiet.  Although, of course, we never had any doubts that we were gonna be the female Beatles or whatever [laughs].

How long were you playing before you started getting a serious notion that something big could come of it?

You know, it wasn't very long.  What happened was, I think it was maybe the fifth or sixth time we ever played out, we actually opened for a national act at Stage EastThe Laughing Dogs.  And I don't quite remember how we got that gig, if somebody was supposed to have it and pulled out.  But somehow we got it.  And there were some people traveling with them.  I was sick that night.  I had a fever, and I just remember feelin' really beat when we got off stage.  And I just said, "You know, I'm gonna go home.  I mean, these guys might be really good, but I never heard of 'em [laughs], and I'm just really feeling kind of bad, so I'm just gonna go home and go to bed."  So I got back to the apartment, was pretty much just ready to call it a night, when I get this frantic call, saying, "Oh my God!  Oh my God!  These guys from...."  I don't even [remember] what label The Laughing Dogs were on....

Columbia.

Right.  They go, "They're really interested!  And they think we're great!  And they're talkin' to us!"  And then I thought, well, should I go back, or what should I do?  [laughs]  But I think that was the first time that we thought, well gosh, maybe this could actually turn into something.  And then once [95X DJ] Gary Allen started managing us, and brought Harvey Leeds from Epic into the picture,then it was kind of a given. I mean, we used to make lists of all the things we were going to buy with all our money [laughs].  Lists that included hot pink polka-dotted, custom-made Flying V's [laughs].  And, of course, wishful thinking, but it was kind of a heady time.

I'm still mystified that no one from this scene ever got signed.

Yeah.  That kind of escapes me, too.  And not necessarily The Poptarts being the one.  I think eventually, there was a time before Screen Test actually did break up, as opposed to sort of all the incarnations that they went through after The Flashcubes, there was a point in time when they seemed to be attracting a wider audience.  'Cause you'd go out and see bands, especially Screen Test, and there seemed to be a much wider group of people.  There was Ed Hamell's band, The Works, which wasn't quite the same thing, but I was taking guitar lessons from one of their guitar players--and God, his name escapes me--so we would go out and see them.  But there seemed to be a lot of crossover.  But they had quite a different following.  They had sort of the new wave following, and then they had a sort of bar band kind of following.  And I think that if Screen Test and The Works started to play together, they started to attract bigger crowds.  But I think it was kind of a too little, too late type of thing.  By then, a lot of the excitement had sort of died down.  And a lot of the scene identity, I think, started to fall apart.

Raising the drinking age was certainly the death knell for a lot of clubs around here.

Yeah, and I think that when things like The Jabberwocky went under.

I'm still in mourning.

[laughs] Yeah, I know!  That was a great club,

All the clubs I went to are gone:  The Firebarn, The Slide....

You know what the greatest thing about the Slide was, though, from a band standpoint?  Is that it was right next to that bakery.  Oh, man!  You know, you'd go, you'd finish up your set, you'd strike everything, you'd load up the van, and then go over to the bakery and get the first loaf of bread of the day [laughs].  And they were so hot, and they were so good.  And then, of course, we'd go over to Serpico's and have frettas [laughs].

Why did The Poptarts split up?

I don't know exactly what Meegan's thoughts were on it.  And, in fact, I even played in The Antoinettes with Meegan and Margie after The Poptarts, and never quite got the full story of what she was feeling at that point in time.  But I think--I mean, this is my own opinion about it, so she could look at this and go, "Oh, this is completely wrong."  And Gael could go, "Oh, I don't think so." But I think there were a couple of things.  One was that Susan wasn't quite the drummer that the band needed.  Although the times that we would try to find somebody else, we would audition other people, and it just wouldn't be the same.  And we had kind of been given this ultimatum by the guy from Epic, by Harvey, who kind of said, "If you're gonna make it, you need to have another drummer."

And that was just horrible, because we were friends.  I mean, it was a thing that had started out kinda like a joke and a party band and "let's just do this!" kind of a [thing], like one of those Judy Garland-Mickey Rooney things.  And suddenly, it was business.  And we realized this was really gonna be a really hard and gut-wrenching decision, and nobody wanted to make it.  And nobody could bring themselves really to come clean with Susan about it, because how do you say that?  Especially when she had really been devoting so much time to it.  And when I listen back to the tapes that Gael had, I mean I hadn't heard those in years and years, and I listened to 'em and I thought, "Well gosh, that's not that bad."  I mean, I realize that a lot of it was recording, so we really got the best takes, but...I do remember actually getting angry with her when she would start to slow down or speed up [laughs].  But I think, of course, it's a moot point now, but I think she might have been able to make it.  But that was just putting an awful lot of strain on everybody, the thought that there's gonna come a time when we're gonna have to tell her what Harvey said about her.

And the other thing was, as it became more, as we started thinking more about actually being signed and making records and how the money gets distributed, the people who write the songs and have the copyrights on the songs get the money for it.  And the players are more like, you get paid for being in the band, but you don't get any extra.  And then, of course, we had the thing with originally Gael had been the singer, then Meegan wanted to sing.  And so pretty soon we had this thing where Gael did covers and a few of Meegan's early songs; Meegan was doing all her own songs.  And then Gael had to start writing songs if she was gonna keep singing, and so we would do this trade-off thing.  And I think a power struggle kind of developed between the two of them.  That's the way I kind of saw it.  And on one hand we had Susan and Gael and I living in one apartment, you know, we'd been pals all through grad school, then Meegan and Margie, who had been sort of the original two who had the idea for the band. And I think it just got to the point where there was just too much tension.  And I think a part of the band's actual on-stage appeal had to do with the mini-skirts obviously [laughs], and as I said the songs and the harmonies were pretty good, but there was also a certain tension there that kind of kept things [interesting].  And I don't think anybody on the other side of the stage, anybody in the audience, could really necessarily sense that there was any kind of friction or tension.  But I do think it kind of added a little bit of electricity on-stage actually, sort of in the way that Paul Armstrong, the way he would always get on the nerves [laughs] of Arty and Gary, would also kind of inject some [oomph].  And when he was gone, it just wasn't the same.

I think that's what happened, ultimately.  And we had played a whole week of gigs in Cleveland, which is Gael's home town.  And she had had an awful lot of attention, because we had been staying at her mom's condo, we'd been on some afternoon TV talk show where she got a lot of attention as the home town girl.  And I think finally Meegan just said, "I just can't deal with this any longer."  And, of course, she was also having romance problems, so [laughs] that wasn't helping at all.  And I think she just said, "I just want to end this.  I don't want to deal with the Susan problem anymore.  I don't want to deal with all this conflict any longer.  I just want to leave and go to Rochester, and start my life again."  And so I think that was at the core of it.  A couple different things happening at once, but I think that the Cleveland thing was kind of the catalyst.  That's my take on it [laughs].

Did you play with Gael's subsequent band, Only Desire?

Yes.

And you played a bit with The Antoinettes, as well.

Yep.  What happened was, after The Poptarts, Gael and I put together Only Desire.  But it was never the same feel.  It was a little harder-edged.  We didn't have the three-part harmonies, because only Gael and I were singing.  I don't know, it was fun, but it just wasn't clicking the way The Poptarts did, and eventually I started doing other things and getting other interests around town and stuff.  And also, Gael and I had been TAs and adjunct faculty members at SU for probably four years by then, and then they did a bunch of budget cuts, and we didn't get picked up for that year [laughs].  And suddenly, it was like, "Oh my gosh, I've gotta get a real job?  [laughs]  Oh no!"  And so I ended up working at Gerber [Music], which of course was the haven [laughs] for all those people on the scene, thanks to Charlie, really.  Because I was looking for a job and just was gettin' all these dead ends.  And he said, "Well, I could use somebody."  And I thought, "Oh, I have my master's degree!  I'm not gonna work for minimum wage at a record store."  But then I thought, "But I gotta pay the rent.  So okay, I'll do it."  So I was just workin' a lot, I didn't have a lot of time anymore to put into the band, and eventually I just said, well, you know.  In fact, they had gotten another guitar player, sort of to take up the slack, and I finally said, you know, "I'll just go and you can just use her."  But it didn't really hang together after that.

And then, a few months later, I think it was at least half a year or nine months or so, suddenly Meegan and Margie show up at the store, and they want to put a band together, and would I be interested?  And I thought, well, okay, all right.  Because I did kinda miss being on stage.  The problem was I was the only guitar player, and I'd always been a rhythm guitar player, I was never much of a lead player.  Although I think at the time I could hold my own as a rhythm player with any band at the point of The Antoinettes and at the end of The Poptarts, certainly.  But what they really needed was a lead player.  I hung in with them until pretty close to the time they moved to New York. And that was the other thing; I didn't really want to move to New York.

Were you in any other bands after that?

No.  Never again [laughs].  Never since.

What do you think of The Poptarts' recordings?

I was really surprised at how well it held up.  And, in fact, the songs that held up kinda surprised me.  Actually, Gael reminded me of this, and I didn't remember it until she said something about it, and I was racking my memory trying to go, "That doesn't sound like something I would do."  But then I realized, "Oh yeah, I think something like this did happen."  One time, when we were playing in Philadelphia, we had run out of encores.  I mean, they loved us at this place [laughs].  We had just started doing one of Meegan's songs, which was "Boy Crazy."  And I don't know, for some reason I wasn't keen on it.  But [Meegan] suggested for the encore [laughs] that we play "Boy Crazy" again, and into the live microphone I said, "Aw, not that piece of shit [laughs]."  And I guess she really got upset.  And I guess we ended up doing it anyway.  But when I got the tape [of The Poptarts' recordings], and "Boy Crazy," I thought, "Well, I like that!"  And I especially liked the way it ended.  It ended on this really pretty chord.  And I thought, "God, why didn't I like that?" I can't think of any that didn't hold up pretty well.  I love the way "Pop Dream" goes, but I don't like the lyrics [laughs].  I don't like "hot pink bikini and a red beret"[laughs], I thought that was kind of silly. And something like "Sensation" I thought really held up.

You know, the funny thing about a lot of those songs was that, you know, a year, year and a half after the band broke up, and The Go-Go's album came out, and it was like we had songs that corresponded.  Like, they had this slow, kind of weird song, [and] we had "Sensation."  I remember going to see them in Rochester, when they were supporting that first album.  I didn't want to go, and then at the time I was going out with Tom Kenny, and he had a friend who had tickets [laughs].  And I'm like, "Oh, all right."  I didn't want to be a spoilsport.  But I actually enjoyed it a lot.  I thought they were great fun.

It's kind of like The Flashcubes going to a Romantics show.

Yeah!  Well, you know that was so weird, because The Romantics used to always come through and play with them.  And then suddenly they were like this huge [success].  I mean, by the time I was living in Boston, they were gigantic.  And I was takin' aerobics classes and they're playing "Talking In Your Sleep" in the aerobics class.

What do you want to say about the apparently aborted Poptarts CD?

You know, I think it's too bad.  I'm sure Meegan has her reasons.  I don't know that I understand what they could be, though.  I would have loved to have had it come out.  I mean, my stepkids are like, "So, when's the CD coming out?"  Because they've heard the tape, but a tape is a tape.  I could make a tape!  I guess my thought is that I can't imagine [Meegan] would ever want to use the songs for anything.

Did she write most of the songs?

A lot of it was co-written.  It was really kind of all over the place.  Because sometimes she'd bring in something that was completely done or...well, it was never completely done, because we always kind of hashed the harmonies out.  And actually I was responsible for a lot of the harmony arrangements, especially on those weird chords [laughs].  But I think sometimes it was a real group effort.  Like "I Won't Let You Let Me Go;" she had one part of it, and I think Gael came up with another part of it, and then I think--although I don't remember really clearly--I think I might have come up with the nyaa-nyaa-nyaa-nyaa-nyaa, you know, "you try to lose me," that part.  I think I might have come up with that.  A lot of 'em were really collaborations.  As it became more an issue of who wrote the song, the collaborative nature of it got a little less.  So generally, after the first six months of the band or so, you can pretty much figure that if Gael's singin' it, she wrote most of it.  But I've heard a rumor that [Meegan] actually copyrighted most of the songs.  I don't know if that's true or not.  But, in that case, I would say, you know, not all of them were yours [laughs].  But, at this point, it's kind of a moot point.  I mean, who's gonna be usin' 'em?  I don't think anybody.

The way I figure it, [the CD] was never destined to be a money-maker.  It was never a profit, money-making thing.  I guess that's the sticking point with me.  I guess I don't understand why she would stop it.  I don't see how it could reflect badly on what she's doing now.  And I don't think there's any real chance that she would use the songs.  And if she owns the copyrights to 'em anyway, who cares?

Any closing comments on the Poptarts experience?

It was a really fun time.  I look back on it very fondly.  I think Syracuse at that point in time was a perfect place for something like that to happen.  It wasn't so rough that it was dangerous [laughs].  I think there were a few incidents in bar bathrooms.  The theme song came out of one.  But I don't know, I ended up with this really very cocky attitude, maybe because I'm so short, I figure nobody's gonna come after me.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

CHARLIE ROBBINS of THE TEARJERKERS: The 1997 BRIGHT LIGHTS Interview



With the ol' clock on the wall ticking closer and closer to our big 2016 BRIGHT LIGHTS! Syracuse new wave rock 'n' roll reunion party on July 3rd (as detailed here), let's dig deeper into the archives for some first-person accounts of the late '70s/early '80s local scene that BRIGHT LIGHTS! celebrates.  These interviews were conducted by me in 1997, as background for a Syracuse New Times article on The Flashcubes and other great bands playing around the 'Cuse during that three-chord-charged time frame; it was published the week of The Flashcubes' 20th anniversary show, which was also a release party for The Flashcubes' anthology CD Bright Lights.  The article itself can be found here.  This is the first publication of the complete interviews.

Hey, wanna go to the BRIGHT LIGHTS! show?  Of course you do!  Get yer tickets, man!

Charlie Robbins was there at the beginning of Syracuse's punk and new wave scene. He had previously been in a band called Fieldstone with Gary Frenay (soon to become one of  The Flashcubes).  As the DIY punk spark ignited in Syracuse, Robbins found himself playing guitar with Buddy Love and the Tearjerkers, where he was billed initially as Charlie Hamster, at least according to Poser fanzine.  

Buddy Love himself--aka Mark Roberts, aka B.D. Love--moved on, but The Tearjerkers continued, off and on, with varying line-ups for a few years.  I won't claim to have any true handle on who was in The Tearjerkers at any given time--Gael Sweeney of The Poptarts did a complex and comprehensive Syracuse New Wave Family Tree some time back--but I don't think there was any one person who was in every single incarnation of The Tearjerkers.  Charlie Robbins was the most consistent presence in the group, working with a revolving parade of talent that included Dave DeCirce, Mark Rotondo, David Soule, Gretta Gallivan, and future star voice actor Tom Kenny, among many others. Charlie sang lead on The Tearjerkers' only single, Gary Frenay's sublime "Syracuse Summer"(backed by DeCirce's "Jane" on the flip side).   When Tom Kenny joined as lead singer, The Tearjerkers recorded more, and a single of "Ronnie Can't Wait" was advertised in Creem magazine. Plans for the single were scotched in favor of a proposed album, The Tearjerkers Quit Their Day Jobs, but none of these recordings was ever released. 

A few years later, Charlie Robbins collaborated with Screen Test on a simply terrific solo track called "Heart Said Go," which was a staple of my mixtapes for a good long while. Charlie was also in a folk/roots combo with the future Maura Kennedy.  He managed Syracuse's near-iconic record store Desert Shore Records, and later opened his own store, Oliver's.  I haven't had any direct contact with the elusive Mr. Robbins in years, but he graciously allowed us to use "Syracuse Summer" on our most recent Dana & Carl rockin' pop compilation CD, This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 3.  I hope the rest of The Tearjerkers' recordings will likewise see the light of day...someday! For now, let's travel back to 1997, and talk with a Tearjerker.

I had been dating the start of the Syracuse new wave scene from The Flashcubes' first show.  Paul Armstrong and Gary Frenay both date it from a new wave party that The Syracuse New Times put on before that, with The Cuban Heels.

The Cuban Heels, yeah.  I was going to say it was The Cuban Heels.  It really wasn't The Flashcubes as much at the very beginning.  But obviously they also brought into it a pop sensibility, you know, Middle America could deal with.  Paul gave it the rough edge, certainly Gary and Arty didn't.

Tell me a little bit about the beginning of that whole scene, even before The Flashcubes.  

At that particular moment in time I was playing in a very bad cover band.  The name of this band was Blue Steel, doin' bad ZZ Top covers, Fleetwood Mac, and playin' bars in Madison, New York with big heels on, and the whole mid-'70s [thing]--that was the way the music business was.  It's funny, you've got all these little coffee house bands now, but if you want a regular gig at it, it's almost like you're back to doing cover stuff now.  It's an embarrassment.  So I really missed kind of the very beginning.  Gary and I lived together at the time, and his first wife.  And I had been working up here at Record Theater with him.  And he kind of got me together with Buddy and that whole crew.  And that's kinda where I entered into it.

I didn't jump on to the punk bandwagon like they did right away.  I was more...from the very beginning, The Sex Pistols were never my big thing.  I much more leaned toward The Jam and bands like that, Eddie and the Hot Rods, bands that had more of a pop thing happening with them.  I mean, it was fun initially.  I remember playing our first jobs, and the crowd wanted you to be obnoxious.  And it was fun to spit beer on people, but it kind of got sour real quick.  And we always played [the] Buddy and the Tearjerkers thing for more of a humor thing than a serious thing.  What broke that band up is the boys wanted to be more serious about it, and I said, "You be more serious about it, you lose the crowd right there."  And, I mean, I was the one who was tuning his guitar on stage.  I knew that if you don't keep the humor in it, then this band's going nowhere.  So I went back at that time to playing Blue Oyster Cult and Van Halen and all this shit for about six months.  And then kind of surfaced again with it.  But I wasn't, at the very beginning, I wasn't a big party-goer or hanger-out with the actual beginning of it.

How did you become involved with The Tearjerkers to begin with?

It was pretty much through Gary.  Gary put us all together.  I mean, Gary, even later on, introduced us to Tom Kenny.  I mean, I didn't know Tommy.  Gary did through The Generic Comics.  And the audition was hilarious.  He was so nervous, and such a mess.  But we knew immediately.  I have a pretty good ear for knowing when somebody was going to be able to do [it], and obviously he's gone on to much bigger things.  But it was fun.  It was a great amount of fun.

I remember seeing an ad for a Tearjerkers 45 that never came out.

It never came out.  We did an awful lot of recording, and we were not a recording band.  To be honest with you, it was way too much of a party.  Not necessarily on everybody's part, certainly, but a lot of the recordings--and I've got most of 'em--are just not up to snuff.  As a live band, I thought we were tough to beat.  We were definitely a band that could go out and deliver, and did.  I mean, the best parts that I remember, I mean really parts of the real key years for the bands, were the fact that you had Screen Test and you had us and you had--what was it?--The Natives.  We're talkin' a bit after the beginning; The Ohms were long gone and all that.  But the parts that were great was the fact that we were all spurring each other on to write.  Gary would come out, see us, and get inspired and write.  And I would do the same thing, be inspired by what they were doing.  I think that the competition thing was always good-natured.  There's a lot more backstabbing nowadays.  It was definitely a lot more fun to do.  You would see something, and you'd go, "Wow!  Yeah, we could do that."  And the other thing that we would always do, when we were doing every Monday night at The Lost Horizon, is we would always make sure we wrote at least one or two new songs every week.  Some of 'em would get played once and thrown away, and then some of 'em would stick.  But it was something we drove ourselves to do.

Prior to this scene developing, were there any local acts really trying to make a go of it with primarily original material?

Well, if it was somebody like Joe [Whiting] and Mark [Doyle], you know, the bigger guys.  I mean, if you were a big enough band--Bad Medicine or Out Of The Blue or any of those big bands back then--then you could start sneaking in one or two of your own tunes as it went along.  I think that probably the high point of that era for that kind of thing was probably 805, because they were big enough to be able to start putting their own stuff in.  And people were excited about it.  But it was not easy.  And even as far along as we were, you'd play a certain town...you couldn't play outside of the central areas.  The minute you got booked playing somewhere like Norwich--I can remember playing Norwich, of all places--and having them all night ask for Bob Seger.  Playing Mohawk Community College, and having them call us Devo. We were about as far removed from that as...!

The Flashcubes...it's funny.  Because I just, I guess I was too involved in trying to do it to think they were as major as they seem to be now.  I mean, they were a band, and we played, they played.  I mean, certainly we opened for them in the beginning an awful, awful lot.  And then eventually we didn't anymore.  And the best thing about Syracuse at the time was you had all these bands, and you could play on the same night, and you'd both make enough money to pay for everything.  And I tell the kids that work for me, we had played this town four or five nights a week, and done all right.  Of course, now these bands play, what?  Every six weeks?  And they're lucky.  I mean, it's a different world now, obviously.

Was it just the rasing of the drinking age that changed things?

There were two or three things that really put an end to it.  Jabberwocky.  Jabberwocky meant more to the new wave scene than any other club.  I know the Horizon was important at the time, It wasn't what it turned out to be later, and we certainly spent an awful, awful lot of time there.  But when you played Jab--and usually you were allowed one, maybe two times a semester--there was a crowd.  And at that point you could be a musician and you could do the kind of things that you weren't mentally able to do at the Horizon, or playing Norwich, or whatever.  You had the freedom to actually kind of in your mind be a big rock star, for lack of a better selection of words.  So, that going, [and] WAER [Syracuse University's free-form radio station].  When they went jazz--we'll call it "jazz"--that was another big nail in the coffin.  There were some great clubs for fun that we played early on.  The one over on Westcott....

Squires East!

Yeah.  Forty people was a crowd, but boy, you couldn't get a better crowd.

At Squires East, forty people was a fire hazard.

Yes, but it was a wonderful place to be.  And The Carousel downtown, and, of course, The Firebarn.  The Firebarn, it's a shame that ever went.  That was a wonderful...the only price was that if you were a band, it was a big pain in the ass to lug the equipment up and down the stairs.  You had the upstairs and downstairs.  We did all those New Wave Nights there.  I never really was big on The Slide-Inn, even though we played there a few times.  That was more like The Poor House North--it wasn't our stomping grounds at all.  I was never real comfortable there.  I was most comfortable either at the Horizon or Jab.  Of course, being up here, it was a university area, it was a lot more fun.  I mean, now they're puttin' 'em on at Chuck's [Hungry Charlie's], but it doesn't seem the same.  I don't know.  I had heard we were gonna see a little resurgence in the wave scene, but it doesn't seem to be happening.  Nothing is, though; you know that.

Everybody in their time, I guess.  Some people are able to move beyond that time, and some people aren't.  I mean, I for a long time wanted to play again, but I can't even picture it.  Me and an acoustic guitar in Borders books isn't gonna do it, you know?  I miss it.  I miss the guys.  I don't really talk to them anymore.  I haven't talked to Tom in a long, long time.

You and Tom Kenny played together for one song at the Swordsmen gig [a late-'90s one-off show at The Lost Horizon, with a parade of Syracuse new wave scene all-stars joining a core band of The Flashcubes' Paul Armstrong and Gary Frenay and legendary 'Cuse guitarist Mark Doyle].

 It was fun to go back out.

You looked like you were having a pretty good time.

Yeah.  I definitely was pretty happy with it.  I mean, Tommy and I very naturally fall into it.  That's probably part of the reason why I haven't been able to do anything since.  You've got to have somebody like Tommy to be able to do it from my end.  Because that's the kind of band I put together.

The other thing is that music isn't as much fun.  Everybody wants to make some kind of big statement about how miserable their life is.  That's why I like happy stuff.  There's not enough happy stuff.  I'm not saying that they don't have a right to do it, or that there's not reason to do it, but music to me is supposed to be kind of a joyous noise.  Frankly, being here in the store all the time, I get real tired of listenin' to 'em whine.  It drives me nuts.

Obviously I'm an itty-bitty little fish, but you wonder how some of these guys that were up the ladder a bit more, what the hell they do or how they keep their spirits up.  I mean, Marshall Crenshaw or somebody like that, who puts albums out, and the faithful few buy 'em.  Even, for that matter, somebody like Richard Thompson, who I followed pretty dearly for a while.  It's gotta be tough on the ego to keep trying to slog on ahead, and it really appears like nobody cares.  There have been some really good records in the last year that have just disappeared.  I think we talked about that Brian Wilson-Van Dyke Parks record, which was just brilliant.  I knew it was never gonna go anywhere.  It had everything it was supposed to have, but I knew it wasn't gonna go anywhere.

You know, it's hard.  You sit and watch TV, and get these Hits Of The '80s!!  Oh Jesus, not already.  It really doesn't seem like that much time's gone by.  And it really has.  The Tearjerkers last played...well, the reunion was in '87, and that's ten years ago.  It's pretty weird to think of that.  It just doesn't seem like that long ago.

Would you do a Tearjerkers reunion now?

Well, if the people were around, certainly.  I had broached it several times.  I mean, Tommy's now married, and I don't know even where he is.  I don't hear from him.  He's trying to do his thing.  Mark Rotondo, of course, is doing a jewelry store downtown.  Joe Fabrizzio is in Boston last I knew, and Larry [Dziergas], he runs his parents' business.  Larry, I don't think he's touched a drumstick.  I might be wrong, but I don't think he's touched a drumstick in a good long [while].  It would have to be the kind of thing where Gary brought it up early enough for me to say, "All right, here's the Geritol."  You know, everybody better try to get with it.  You know, I keep my fingers up from time to time.  Like I've been telling you, it's depressing, so I tend not to do it.  I finally have the best equipment I ever wanted, and now there's nobody [laughs].

Why didn't anyone from this scene ever break out?

Because nobody would leave Syracuse.

Paul Armstrong did.  Arty Lenin did for a while.

Well, after a while, Paul didn't have the whole shot.  Paul was the catalyst in that band.  And a lot of people really, really, really hated that band when they fired him.  They all of a sudden...I mean, Mick Walker's a player.  He's a player, he's good.  But it wasn't the same.  It was very slick.  It wasn't even The Romantics; it was a step beyond The Romantics as far as slickness.  And it just didn't...with Gary and Arty forcing their view of what they wanted it to be, and unfortunately the rough edge was gone.  And part of the charm of that band was the rough edge.  I think at this point they know that.  A lot of people didn't think we would go anywhere when Buddy left, and we hadn't even started when Buddy left.

I kind of lost the muse.  I just didn't know what to do with it.  For one, I was very sheltered.  From about '80 through about '84, I could be a musician.  I worked at Desert Shore, I walked in when I wanted to, left when I wanted to.  We played a lot, so I spent a lot of time writing, I spent a lot of time playing.  And you're very sheltered in that, and I think in a way that's what you need to have.  One thing I never wanted to do, and I always said this from the minute I picked up the guitar, is I would never play a wedding, which I never have.  That's where Gary and I differ greatly, because he went on to do [his covers band, The Neverly Brothers] and all that, and I would never do it.  It wasn't being true to the music.  I mean, I got into the music because of The Small Faces and The Who and The Byrds, and all that meant something to me.  It wasn't like background stuff.  To me, the music was my life.  My whole life has been the music.  And unfortunately, all of a sudden, we made some stupid decisions.  Maura and I decided to move to Ithaca to be a big folk thing, and Ithaca's full of big folk things.  They don't need us.

Still, I could never understand why none of these bands made it.

We had management that would not...we had talked about going to play New York.  "You're not good enough.  You guys suck.  You'll never make it."  And after we broke [up] I went down with the boys; they played CBGB's, and I was bummin' around, had nothing to do, and Gary said, "Come on!"  So I drove down with them.  And they played, and I'm in there watching the other bands, and I'm going, "Fuck, we would have killed them."  And you don't know.  Again, we were so sheltered.  The Poptarts got out and played Cleveland.  And we just never...we went to Rochester.  And we did pretty well there.  But I talked to Mark Rotondo for a while about trying to get something together, and he basically said, "You know, The Tearjerkers were a good second-string band.  You had a good knack about picking good covers that we could do that fit in with what we were writing.  But we were never poised to go the whole distance."  And I don't know.

Going back to what killed it, also the fact that you could program everything into these computers and everything.  That killed it, too.  There was no freshness, there was no urgency to the fact that you could sit there and hit one button.

I wish I could have a more romantic view of the time, but I guess being in the middle of it, you know....  For a while, too, my excesses were doing me in.  I was drinkin' waaaaay too much, and indulging.  And that's one of the reasons I stopped.  I just decided enough was enough.

The other thing about [The Flashcubes] is they had every shot, every chance, everything that they could get, and it still didn't happen.  And we always said that if they took off, we'd be right behind 'em.  Because if [record labels] looked at the area, we'd all go.  There was no doubt about it.  We knew we could do it.  Just everything that they could get the chance to do, opening for The Police and all this stuff, and it just never clicked.  And you had to wonder; you had to wonder what it was.  What does it take?