Collectively, the following bands and performers have appeared in our Rock & Pop listings in numbers approaching the hundreds, if not way more (unfortunately, we couldn’t get an intern to do the actual tallying). Many have gone through numerous name changes, personnel changes and changes of heart along the way; some have stuck together like the Mafia. Some have flirted with fame, others have kissed it on the mouth. One thing they all have in common is that they can stand onstage, be it at Al’s Bar or House of Blues, and proudly belt out Stephen Sondheim’s showstopper "I’m Still Here."
Charlie Popdefect PopdefectHow many years in music? Eighteen and a half years . . . Jesus!
Day job(s)? Inevitable.
Goals when you started? Form band and keep it going.
Goals now? Kill band.
Big brush with fame?Gregg Allman at a Popdefect show in
Columbia, Missouri, turns to his entourage during our second song and states, "I’ve heard enough!" and they all get up and leave. Also, on our first U.S. tour
Ray Davies grabbed Nick’s ass in some seedy club in Chicago.
Worst gig? The one and only time we played the
Viper Room. It was a benefit for
Hilltop Nursery School, where we were invited to play three songs for the kids. We barely pass the first security check. On the next level, we must pass by a huge, mean man with a small head that somehow supports a high-tech communication device. Somehow we squeeze by and make it to the stage. We are rewarded with the sound man’s command that we have five minutes to set up and play and, bless their generous hearts, one free beer per band member. After our second song, we all reach back for our well-deserved beers, only to find they’ve been removed due to the club’s no-drinking-onstage rule.
Moment you felt like quitting? On one of our early low- or no-paying tours, we had stopped at a rest-stop area in the deep South to make our per diem bologna sandwiches. Although we still had enough bread to make that day’s tasty treats, we had bought a new loaf in the last town for the lean days ahead. As Nick and Charlie prepared their last and only meal for the day from the three-day-old loaf, they watched in horror as Al untied the new loaf of fresh bread for
his meal. Needless to say, a vicious fight ensued.
Why didn’t you quit? We should have.
Most money made in one night? $600, not including T-shirt sales.
Would you do a Gap commercial? Hell yeah! We’d sell babies’ organs and nuclear-weapon secrets if we thought there was money to be made.
Where do you see the band in five years? We’d rather not look.
Abby TravisHow many years in music? Fourteen in public.
Day job(s)? Playing bass for other folks, the stock market, transferring credit-card debt.
Goals when you started? When I started playing bass, I had no goals, and it all went downhill from there.
Goals now? To have a long, diverse, busy and fruitful career. I’d also like to not have to engineer the records.
Big brush with fame? Having a drink with
George Harrison at a Grammy party when I was 18 or 19. He told me I was beautiful!
Worst gig? I played bass with the Ring ling Sisters at a golf/lesbian party in
Palm Springs once.
Annette Zilinskas sang this really pretty song, and the audience didn’t even clap! It was harsh.
Moment you felt like quitting? After my last gig.
Why didn’t you? Because I never make big decisions while I’m on my period.
Most money made in one night? I was raised not to discuss money in public.
Would you do a Gap commercial? Only if Joe D’Allesandro would pose with me
Where do you see the band in five years? Joseph Campbell once said, "We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us." I think it’s pretty good advice.
John Talley-Jones Urinals, UniblabHow many years in music? Twenty-one years since Urinals’ first performance and my debut as a "musician."
Day job(s)? Information support at UCLA.
Goals when you started? Have a good time, express myself, annoy people.
Goals now? Have a good time, express myself, travel.
Big brush with fame? When I was in Radwaste in the ’80s, our producer,
Keith Levene, and I were ushered into a
Capitol Records V.P.’s office so he could tell us that he "didn’t hear any hooks."
Worst gig? Too many bad gigs to remember, but one of the most dispiriting was in 1993 with Trotsky Icepick. We had driven from
Tallahassee to
Athens, Georgia, for what we thought was going to be a well-attended gig in front of an enthusiastic audience. We found ourselves in a hidden-away bar in the woods on the far side of a low-income housing tract. There were four paying customers max, and the promoter, going above and beyond the terms of our contract, gave us $1 more than the split we required: We got $7, and the other band of note on the bill, also from L.A., only got $6. "Don’t tell them I did this," the promoter instructed, "but I liked you guys better."
Moment you felt like quitting? Whenever a band I’ve put energy into breaks up.
Why didn’t you? Too oblivious to reality.
Most money made in one night? I’m too embarrassed to say.
Would you do a Gap commercial? Absolutely — though the concept is so absurd I don’t have to worry about it ever happening.
Where do you see the band in five years? Opening for the re-formed Sigue Sigue Sputnik at the Roxy.
Johnny Legend Johnny Legend & His Naked ApesHow many years in music? Thirty-three, starting with first paid gig in ’66.
Day job(s)? Actor, producer and director of film and video; writer; wrestling manager and promoter; film distributor.
Goals when you started? To be a rock & roll singer (not just a star), and all those jobs I just mentioned.
Goals now? Believe it or not, same as when I started.
Big brush with fame? At least once a week, but I like to brag that I was the guy playing at the London Fog on the
Sunset Strip the night before the Doors opened for their first
Hollywood gig.
Worst gig? I submit this as the worst gig of all time: Some hideous dive in
Bell Gardens, turned out the entire audience was ex-cons, parolees and hardcore country & western drunks. Within five minutes, our sole invited guest, Doctor Demento, had to stare horrified as one guy smashed another patron’s head into the jukebox, leaving a head gushing blood atop a vintage turntable. Billy Zoom, our lead guitarist, took one look, grabbed his guitar and amp, and disappeared out the back door. The crowd caught on and closed in, making sure none of the rest of us escaped. We had to reconfigure the band on the spot. And we had to play three sets, pretending each song was "from the new
Waylon Jennings album coming out next week," et cetera. The drunken crowd somehow swallowed an entire evening of familiar tunes they’d never heard before.
Moment you felt like quitting? See above.
Why didn’t you? Had to do a TV gig the next day.
Most money made in one night? Somewhere in the thousands, somewhere in Europe.
Would you do a Gap commercial? I may have already. I’ll have to check.
Where do you see the band in five years? Headlining the grand reopening of Raji’s.
Steve Gregoropoulos W.A.C.O.How many years in music? About 30. In this lifetime, anyway.
Day job(s)? In order? Motel-room painter, record-store clerk, company driver, cab driver, cab dispatcher, dishwasher, office temp, movie extra, assistant, person-who-talks-on-the-phone-at-movie-company-and-has-own-assistant . . . and I’m sure I forgot some.
Goals when you started? I started in music when my parents got a piano and I decided to try to rewrite
Pictures at an Exhibition by learning it by ear off an old Horowitz recording. So I guess my first goal was to be a Russian composer. On the other hand, when I first veered off into the "pop" thing, I wanted to be like the "obscure" artists I liked as a kid —
Syd Barrett,
John Cale,
Patti Smith, et cetera — an unappreciated cult figure.
Goals now? It seems like I’m not too good at goals.
Big brush with fame? My favorite brush with my
own fame was playing, as the Wild Stares, in
Budapest before the fall of communism. We drove into town, and on every giant neoclassical column in town there was a poster for us. Cars would stop and point at us. One of our shows was on national television, and we didn’t even know about it, but when I had breakfast the next morning, the old innkeeper came and served me and said, "I . . . see . . . you . . . teevee" and then did a little impersonation of me.
Worst gig? Something called
Taco Land in San Antonio. The club was handing out bumper stickers that said, "Don’t be a pussy." Our bass player began to taunt the crowd with "Hey, just because I’ve sucked a few cocks doesn’t mean I’m gay" and other
Lenny Bruce–isms, causing a pall of hatred to descend upon the room. This would have been fine had the hatred remained focused in an us-against-them kind of way, but having commenced hating
them, it was no time before we began hating one another as well. It turned into an onstage brawl, while the racist homophobes just stood and stared at us in stunned silence.
Moment you felt like quitting? When I got asked to do this "geezers of rock" retrospective . . . no, seriously, I’d have to say I got a little down reading about my life in the
Perfect Sound Forever Wild Stares article last year, and thinking about all the good times in the past.
Why didn’t you? Lots of things. Like playing the
Wig Rodeo score live at Spaceland to a full house of people listening silently to 20 minutes of modern instrumental music. Or hanging with my newest W.A.C.O. buddies, Elana and Becca, who’re about half my age and treat me as good as they treat their friends who can’t even go into a bar and drink legally —people like that make you focus on all the good times yet to come.
Most money made in one night? About $1,000.
Worst career move? I don’t really think of music in terms of a career.
Would you do a Gap commercial? I would never license a W.A.C.O. song for a commercial, but I’d write music for a commercial.
Where do you see the band in five years? Hmmm . . . two things I’d like to do at some point are a) do some shows with French horn and some low-string doubling and mallet percussion for a full chamber-orchestra lineup, and b) play a couple of stripped-down electric shows, just to fuck people up.
Bob Lee Claw Hammer, Backbiter, Fearless Leader
