The History of Dash Rip Rock Dash Rip Rock began playing in the summer of 1984 in Baton Rouge, LA.  The group was formed when drummer Clarke Martty brought together Bill Davis and Ned Hoaky Hickel, Jr.  for a rockabilly trio based on the Stray Cats, Jason and the Scorchers, Rank and File and the LeRoi Brothers (all these bands were hot roots rock groups at the time, most had infiltrated College Radio which back then was the home of more artistic groups like REM and U2).  The trio practiced at Bill's apartment on 12th Street and Florida right across from the bus station. The band started gigging out around LSU their first show opening for the LeRoi Brothers.  They opened for Rank and File, The Long Ryders and even the Grass Roots.  They also established themselves as a hell-raising frat party band playing surf instrumentals and revved-up sixties garage punk.  Bill graduated from LSU with a Masters in Journalism and took a job at a New Orleans' area hospital in the PR department.  While in New Orleans, he started hanging out with Johnny J. and the Hitmen and the Mistreaters, two very wild local rockabilly outfits.  Drumming with the Mistreaters was Fred LeBlanc, a prehistoric unschooled drum maniac who literally looked, walked and ate whole chickens exactly like Fred Flintstone.  Clarke had been trying to move the band in a more country direction, citing bands like OFB and J&tNS as his influences.  Bill wanted to move the band in a more college rock direction, using the southern art and imagery of bands like REM, the dBs and Love Tractor mixed with a wilder roots rock hybrid of the famous Austin punkabilly scene.  It was May 1985 and Bill replaced Clarke with Fred and the band began touring.  Their first tour took place in October 1985 while Bill received a two week vacation from his day job.  They toured to Washington DC, stopping off in Atlanta (where they played for promoter Larry T who later became famous as RuPaul's valet), Athens where they slept in the old church where REM used to practice, and a few other sleepy southern college towns. The tour was a success and the band's demo tape, Bushwhackers (recorded at Stonee's studio in Kenner, and Real to Reel Studio in Baton Rouge), began getting notice in several local newspapers.  The band's first 45, "Marsupial b/w Shake That Girl", helped them get college airplay across the south and beyond.  Sid Griffin, of the Long Ryders, played the song for Elvis Costello while in England on tour.  Elvis had one word for the chord changes in Marsupial's intro - "Brilliant".  Dash continued touring the south, playing at the very first SXSW in Austin yet another opening gig for their mentors - The LeRoi Brothers.  While here, Cathy Hendrix, music director for the Atlanta club 688, saw them and offered them a gig at the venerable punk club.  Cathy, by a strange coincidence, was in Bill's early college party / punk band - The Noise.  She offered her former band mate a helping hand and it paid off in deuces.  The club was starting a record label "688 Records" and wanted Dash to be their first band.  So, with no manager to speak of, and only a half year's touring under their belts, the punkabilly threesome made their first long-player in Axis Studio's (a former gospel studio in the warehouse district of Atlanta).Produced by George Pappas (of Guadacanal Diary and Georgia Satellites fame), the record had songs written by all three Rip Rocks and a few fun covers thrown in.  The record did well nationally and it established Dash Rip Rock as a southern college rock / rockabilly power to be reckoned with.  At a two night stand in Los Angeles, Dash opened for Screamin Jay Hawkins one night and the Circle Jerks the next.  At the shows and hanging backstage were such rock notables as Lux Interior of the Cramps, Nick Lowe, Cyril Jordan of the Flamin' Groovies and Billy Bremner of Rockpile all were congratulating Dash on their southern rock furor, and also on their eclectic punk tastes.  Dash had become the southern garage rock kings.  They were the toast of Hollywood for the summer of 1988. After a couple of trips to Europe, Dash returned to the states to find drummer Fred LeBlanc unhappy about the direction of the group.  They had recorded "Ace of Clubs" in early 1988, and then 688 Records promptly went out of business.  The album was sold to then-fledgling Mammoth Records who released it while the Dashers were overseas entertaining the Vikings.  "Ace" featured an even number of songs from Bill and Fred and also had the guest guitar work of Dan Baird (lead singer for the Georgia Satellites).  Dash returned from Norway to find "Ace of Clubs" on the top of the college radio charts, with glowing reviews in several well-known national rock mags.  But still, Fred wanted to have his own personal project and not live under the confining rules of the Davis/Hickel-led DRR.  When offered a solo deal with (now-defunct) Manhattan records by an old high school chum, Fred jumped at the chance and left the group.  Mammoth Record agonized over the split and tried to force Fred to stay in the band, but the band was ripped apart and Davis/Hickel searched for a replacement. Not having to look too far, they found Chris Luckette, who was Fred's mentor and early musical influence.  Chris had played in the two most awesome punk bands to ever exist in New Orleans - The Normals and The Cold.  He had a great underground reputation and was known as a demon monster while on his kit.  He slipped right into LeBlanc's shoes and the band barely missed a beat.  (LeBlanc struggled as a solo artist.  His record deals with EMI and MCA fell apart and he floundered for 4 years.  Not until he formed Cowboy Mouth in 1991 did he regain his footing and break out as a major New Orleans Rock Icon, much to the chagrin of his former Rip Rock mates). Mammoth rushed the new line-up into a Memphis studio with demented southern enigma Jim Dickinson as producer.  The result was "Not of this World" and it continued to pump the Dashers into the twisted minds of the college rock hordes.  Working with Dickinson was an eye-opening experience for the Dashers.  He was loose and free-form in the studio this made the recording a lot of fun and the excitement shows on the songs.  The record led to Dash being featured on MTV News' "The Week in Rock" and concerts for the band were packed from coast to coast.  A tour with The Cramps allowed DRR to play before huge crowds at such venerable venues as The Hollywood Palladium and SF's Warfield Theater.  It was about this time that Dash released "Boiled Alive" - their quintessential rowdy live CD - recorded at four honky-tonks throughout Louisiana and Texas.  This was reviewed in Billboard as the best Dash record yet, simply because the band's reputation had been built on blazingly incredible bar shows.  They were written up in Musician magazine as "A wild mixture of ZZ Top and NRBQ (ZZBQ - if you will), Dash has claimed the crown as best bar band ever!" Despite all the praise, another problem arose.  Much to Bill's concern, the more serious country and ballad-type songs were being shuffled to the rear and DRR took on a cartoon quality.  After forming allegiances with madmen like Mojo Nixon, The Beat Farmers, Horton Heat and SCOTS, Dash was further mired in the insane, yet satisfying, world of psycho bar bands.  In an effort to climb out of this pigeonhole, Dash recorded "Tiger Town: with LA producer Micheal Hutchinson.  The result was a humongous giant sounding rock record that could stack up next to the best from Warrant and Motley Crue.  The songs on the album were accepted as being prime Dash material, but the fancy Hollywood production didn't exactly fit the whole DRR theme.  The album was released on small SoCal label called Dr.  Dream Records.  The CD helped Dash continue mysteriously winning over the press.  Creem Magazine ran a three-page spread on the band and Ray Gun, Billboard, and Spin gave rave reviews. After touring incessantly, Dash went into the studio in 1995 to try again.  This time it was the Egyptian Room in New Orleans an old masonic hall that was the size of a basketball gym.  Dash decided to produce the record themselves with the help of a few local engineers.  The record was done in two weeks and at the end of recording 14 songs, drummer Chris Luckette suggested they put down a live number that had been getting crowds riled up for years.  He thought "Let's Go Smoke Some Pot" would be a funny song to tack onto the end of the CD.  So much for trying to be serious, Dash took the dive into the deep end and just said "Well, screw it if they're gonna call us a joke band we'll give them the best joke song we've got."  The song was a parody of "Let's Go to the Hop" (a Danny and the Juniors song form the early 60's), and instead of being pro-marijuana, it made fun of all the hippy bands cashing in on the current "Grateful Dead jam-band" craze.  The song was a blast to record and a very drunk Bill and Chris can be heard throughout the song aping the hilarious lingo of the 90's slacker hippy rock dude.  They paid for the record themselves and then had a manager shop it around to all the record labels. Still labeled as the world's greatest bar band, Dash couldn't raise the slightest hint of interest from the major labels.  Finally, Sector II records in Austin, TX (home of the Beat Farmers) bought the album and released it with little fanfare.  As the album was being shipped to stores, drummer Chris Luckette suddenly quit the band.  He was tired of the hectic tour schedule Dash kept up, and wanted to spend more time in New Orleans with his family.  Local drummer Kyle Melancon had been chumming around with Fred LeBlanc for some time.  He had picked up a lot of Fred's tricks and antics.  Kyle was recently fired from a local country band and was jamming with Bill and Dash road-god Rich Siegel in a side project they called "Bulldozer".  The very day Chris quit, Dash had a gig at local rock club - Jimmy's.  Bill called Fred and Kyle and asked them to split the show.  Kyle played well enough for the Dashers to invite him into the band.  He even outdid LeBlanc in remembering all the old Dash staples! Back to the record at hand entitled "Get You Some of Me".  The album didn't make much of a splash.  Sector II decided to issue a single of the Pot song, just as a hoot.  Luckily for Dash, Sector II had just hired a new promotions person named Vicki Lucero.  Vicki was persistent in pressuring local Austin DJ's into spinning the "Pot" song.  It caught on in that lazy Texas town and became a huge request hit and top charter.  The Pot craze spread to New Orleans and "The Zephyr" radio was spinning it 8 times a day.  The song was big hit with teenagers who wanted to piss off their parents.  Phones at radio stations across the country lit up from excited teens calling in to request it, and angry parents calling in to complain about it.  Either way, the Pot song was becoming a national radio smash.  It was top ten radio in Cleveland, Chicago, Cincinnati, Norfolk, Wash.  DC,  Seattle, Denver and Portland.  Wherever there were punk rockers or hippies, the song was a hilarious change from the boring serious grunge of the day.  They loved it and kept calling and calling! When the song hit California airwaves it soared! In San Francisco on Rock 101, it was the most requested song for 6 weeks in a row.  While riding into SF to play a show, the Dashers were in their band van listening to the weekly chart show.  After hearing a song from Pearl Jam and then another from Alice in Chains the DJ said "And now, the most requested song in San Francisco for the 4th straight week in a row - It's Dash Rip Rock and Let's Go Smoke some Pot.  "The van exploded with cheers and DRR felt like something had seriously gone awry for them to be enjoying such fame out on the West Coast.  The song was picked up by KROQ Los Angeles' #1 station.  It was such a hit there; Dash was invited to play the annual KROQ Weenie Roast with Kiss, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Fugees and Garbage.  After a wild night in San Francisco, DRR turned south and headed for the big show.  Little did they know the unorganized concert promoters had moved their show-time up two hours and had not bothered to tell the band or the band's management.  Dash showed up for their 7 pm slot at 5:30 only to be told they had missed their 5:15 slot.  They were destroyed.  All the while, they sat there and watched rock stars strutting about and primping like the wormy peacocks they are, becoming more and more depressed.  Dash went back to the luxury hotel rooms (provided by KROQ) and had a big drunk collective cry.  It was a big shot, but it was over in a day and the band forged on.  The next day was a festival in San Diego.  Dash opened for Dishwalla and No Doubt (2 summer hit bands) and blew the crowd away with a fiery 45-minute drunken fiesta.  In attendance were member of Dash's mentors, the Beat Farmers.  Having just lost their leader Country Dick Montana, the ex-Farmers were melancholy but supportive of Dash's new fame (albeit short-lived) and the gang of rowdy musicians spent the entire evening going nuts and reminiscing.  That night, spent with old compadres from the "bar band" school, made up (in spades) for the previous day's SNAFU. The Pot song continued to surf the airwaves and it sold well for the small Ichiban Label (who had bought it from a defunct Sector II).  The song was a great shot in the arm for a pigeonholed "Bar" band that had been stuck in a rut for several years.  Dash rode out the song and when it died down, they were thankful to have experienced a brief look at "the other side".  Ichiban Records was fully behind the band and rushed out "Dash Rip Rock's Gold Record" - a compilation of old re-recorded songs and a few new ones written by Bill and Kyle.  The CD came out on October 1996 and didn't sell well.  Seems Dash was back down among the bar bands and struggling again.  The Gold Record was critically well-received and even got the Dashers a front page article in USA Today's Life section.  They called Dash Rip Rock a "Best Bet For Stardom".   The ironies that have affected this band over the years never fail to raise a chuckle.  The next album was produced by Fred LeBlanc. It was called “Pay Dirt.” The record was a mix of new and old, with Melancon throwing in a song and Hoaky doing a long drunk narrative to close it out.  The album was released by PC Music, which promptly went out of business. The band had a horrific west coast tour in 1998. Fistfights and SNAFUs plaqued the band, leading Hickel to quit in February of 1999. Dash hired Buckshot bassist Andy Songy to fill in, along with rhythm guitarist (and Buckshot drummer) Leon Touzet. For the first time in history, Dash had grown bigger than a trio. The band was now a four piece. They toured into the summer and Bill Davis moved to Nashville. A revolving door/musical chairs effect carried the band along since 2000 – with bassists Kenny Ames, Settly, Shannon Bobbo, Molly Magwire, and St. Louis Tony carrying the bottom end. With Kenny, the band recorded “Sonic Boom” in Baton Rouge and Nashville. The record was called “a decent Americana effort” and won Offbeat Magazine’s “Best Rock Album of 2003.” It was released on Cory Morrow’s Write On Records label. Brian Broussard was a beer-maker at Abita who had endeared himself to the band by giving them lots of beer. They eventually forced him to learn the bass guitar and he joined the band in 2003. Kyle Melancon left the band in 2004 and was replaced by Jody Smith, a popular local filmmaker and punk rock drummer. Kyle returned for a while in 2005, but had to quit again due to family and work responsibilities. Dash welcomed Leon Touzet back in the summer as drummer. They began a tour with Drivin and Cryin to mark 20 years since sharing the first 688 Records roster. The band signed with Alternative Tentacles Records in 2005, Jello Biafra had been a fan of the band in the 1980’s and was happy to release a greatest hits package appropriately called “Recyclone.” After Hurricane Katrina destroyed his property - Leon had to leave the band. Dash hired Eric Padua, formerly of local powerhouse Motorway. The trio then released the critically-acclaimed country punk rock opera "Hee Haw Hell." Despite the roller coaster ride Dash has experienced for the last 23 years, they continue to be acclaimed as the best live band to ever walk the planet.  As long as this title applies, DRR will continue to rock the largest and smallest clubs around the world.   Ear Fuel - music reviews by BD EAR FUEL – Bill Davis   Lucinda Williams tells most people she’s from Lake Charles. I met her while at McNeese in 1979. Her father, Miller Williams, was reading poetry for my creative writing class. He mentioned his daughter was in the audience and wanted to sing a few songs. At the time, my favorite bands were Kiss and the Cars. We were drunk on poetry-gathering wine and pretty much ignored her performance. Now it’s 2001 and she’s the toast of underground Nashville and the world.  I regret not paying her more respect - nowadays I listen to her as much as I do Kiss and the Cars!     LUCINDA WILLIAMS – “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” (Mercury) This is a record that was released about 2 years ago. I’m reviewing it here mainly to compare it to her new CD.  If you’re from Lake Charles or southwest Louisiana you should add Lucinda to your listening collection. “Car Wheels” won a Grammy and it catapulted her into Alternative Country mega-stardom. Most of its music was written in or about the heel of the Louisiana boot. One song is called “Lake Charles” – and she mentions Opelousas, Slidell and Nacogdoches, TX. through the course of  her brilliant, original songs.  This record captures the soul of the region, and plays smooth like a cool breeze rolling off the Big Lake. I compare her vocal style to Ricki Lee Jones or Bonnie Raitt. Thematically and stylistically – this is a country record, but it has some deep blues that lift it above the current Nashville miasma. “Joy” sounds like it could’ve been written by Howlin’ Wolf; “Can’t Let Go” is a slide-drenched delta romp. The title cut is my favorite – it’s a deep south travelogue we can relate to – taking us back to our childhood and then some.   LUCINDA WILLIAMS – “Essence” (Lost Highway) On her new CD, Lucinda takes a downer and climbs into an inner-tube for a slow roll down the Calcasieu. She has left her bayou allusions to pursue a somber journey into left-of-center Nashville tongue-wagging. This record is almost too slow and depressing for its own good. It has been speculated that Lucinda gained so many prizes for her previous CD that she is trying to beat the backlash with a record of obscure and unattractive dirges. I almost have to agree with that critique; the songs here appear to be intentionally quirky, whereas  the gems on “Car Wheels” were natural in their artistic revelations. It’s not a sophomore slump, because this is her sixth or seventh album. She’s obviously a victim of affected over-analysis, brought on by the massive success of her previous record (but, heck, I ain’t no shrink). I can only wager a guess:  this is Lucinda’s attempt to step back into cult obscurity. Nevertheless, two songs stand out as winners: “Essence” is awesome, even though it compares True love to Junkiedom. “Bus To Baton Rouge” brings it all home, but too late in the game.   ALSO RANS:   DELBERT McCLINTON – “Nothing Personal (New West) – This record is some of the coolest R&B I’ve heard in a while. It’s by far his best record in years. Standout songs:” Livin’ It Down” and “Gotta Get it Worked On.” Danceble country blues that makes you wanna shake all over.   RODNEY CROWELL – “The Houston Kid” (Sugar Hill) East Texas soul from one of America’s best songwriters. “Telephone Rd.” is a great song – another brilliant record that captures the feel of the region.   Ear Fuel - Bill Davis "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" soundtrack (Mercury) - various artists. As of this writing, here's the #1 country album in the U.S.  What's funny is there's hardly any "country" on this record. It's mostly blues, folk and gospel. In the success of this recording lies a deeper meaning. Can it be possible that sophisticated music listeners are turning away from the recent antics of harpy marionettes like Garth and Shania? The answer is "yes" and hereby the record buying public is sending a very powerful consumer statement. I love it when a good record kicks the ass of hyper-marketed Disney caca. T-Bone Burnett is the producer  - that staffing choice ensures true-to-life recordings minus any fancy technology. All you get with T-Bone is an honest representation of the sounds being issued forth from the artists. "Honesty" is a very important value that is often overlooked today in the world of vocal enhancers and computer-aided melodies. The bare-bones approach gives the listener a feeling of being in the very room where the performer is singing (the creaking of a chair, a deep breath, the scratch of the guitar strings ) - it's all there in the digital grooves. The performers are a "Who's Who" of underground southern roots music. From Baton Rouge, Chris Thomas King wails out "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues" as if he were in his great-grandfather's shoes. Chris is famed bluesman Tabby Thomas' son - he also has a big acting role in the movie. This is definitive deep delta blues - front porch, tenant shack reality. On the other side of the coin is "O Death" sung accapella by bluegrass legend Ralph Stanley. This is an East Tennessee high lonesome hillbilly hymn. Just as Thomas captures the soul of the delta bottoms, Stanley brings us to the mountaintops of the Smokies with this ancient funeral dirge. The Cox Family from Bogalusa are also included with "I am Weary (Let me Rest)" This is a three-part harmony sung as only a tight-knit family can, very ethereal and dreamy. The rock stars of this production are the legendary Emmy Lou Harris and very popular Allison Krauss. They have been touting mountain music and delta blues throughout their careers, so it's perfect to have them weigh in on this collection of mostly obscure artists. "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby" and "I'll Fly Away" pairs these two songbirds with the dour Gillian Welch for true-to-form depression era sing-a-longs. These girls add heft to the project, and pretty much form the commercial backbone of the endeavor. " I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow" is the single, if you could call it that. I've heard this one on modern country radio, squeezed in right next to Reba and the Achy Breaky. It's the big hit of the movie - as sung by the mythical Soggy Bottom Boys. The true voice behind George Clooney's mug is Dan Tymiski - who leads Allison Krauss' band, Union Station. The tune is catchy and the arrangement a real knee slapper. If you find yourself buck-dancing to this one, don't become alarmed. It's rare that soundtracks ever run consistent - good songs, great performances and a central theme. This number one hit album defies that tragic history and sets itself apart from the usual Hollywood fluff. Did I mention this entire project is based on Homer's "Odyssey?" Ponder that as you listen to the south unfold.   Earfuel - Jan. 2002 NORTH MISSISSIPPI ALLSTARS - 51 Phantom (Tone Cool) From the deepest, muddiest delta has sprung a true funky rock and blues band. I'm surprised these guys could even crawl out of the catfish pond-infested wilds of North Mississippi, mud-caked as they seem. NMA have lots of authentic blues production stuck to the guitars, drums and bass, as well. It's like they went and found the microphone John Lee Hooker used to carry around in his jacket next to his pistol, plugged it into the PA system at the Clarksdale Piggly Wiggly and channeled the tortured soul of Robert Johnson. These younguns hail from Independence, MS - but it is well known they got their blues learnin' in the heart of Crossroads country and Memphis. Luther Dickinson is the leader here. He handles a Les Paul as if it were an extension of his skin and bones - his slide work brings to mind Duane Allman. The song "Storm" is truly a tribute to thosed famed brothers from Macon. My favorite song, claws down, is 'Snakes in My Bushes." This thumping blues songs has hip hop drum loops and grungy swamp guitar. It's a nod to the bayou state with fonky CCR stylings. "Mud" is another standout. It repeats the refrain "I'm in the mud and the mud's in me." (Drummer Cody Dickinson penned this amazing tune). The Dickinson boys were born and raised on a farm near Hernando (that's where Jerry Lee Lewis hangs his hat - and his ex-wives). Their dad is famed producer Jim Dickinson. He played piano on "Wild Horses" and other Muscle Shoals Rolling Stone hits. He's all over "Sticky Fingers." He has since produced records by the Replacements, Radiators, Cramps, Big Star and yes, Dash Rip Rock. This is the first record he's made with his sons. Their previous effort "Shake Hands with Shorty" was nominated for a Grammy. This is the real deal - no foolin'. (www.nmallstars.com) (www.51phantom.com) Johnny J - Fever Water - Blue Viper Records Jay Beninati is a long-standing New Orleans rockabilly legend. His band The Hitmen has traveled the US and Europe, winning fans globally as well as locally. Fever Water is a cool collection of swingin' kick back blues songs. "Elevator Love" is a rollin' west Texas shuffle that's sure to make you wanna shag or at least two-step. "Self Made Man" features Johnny J.'s trademark humor - "I'm livin' in a trailer, but I'm a self-made man." "My Pretty Girl" is reminiscient of Buddy Holly pop melodies. "Dangerous Game" is a Las Vegas grinding song is a sad minor key. As you can tell from the first four songs - this disc is diverse. But it all keeps within the lines of excellent roots rock reality. If you were to see Johnny J. in a musty honky-tonk off the side of Hwy. 190, it would bring you back to the swamp pop 50's or 60's in a dreamy state of blues rock nostalgia. This disc captures that mood to the "t" - it's a time machine to back when blues was blues and the squares were scared. (www.johnnyj.net)   Andrew WK – I Get Wet I have recently found myself jealous of neato gadgets available to kids these days. You know, the cool things that didn’t exist when we were teens or preteens. For instance, X-Box, the internet, pagers, cell phones – dude, we had walkie-talkies and pong. But I guess I got to rock a lot when I was younger (I wouldn’t have rocked nearly as hard had my fingers been stuck to a play-station control.) But who would ever want to stay stuck in front of a computer monitor when instead – you could drive up and down Ryan St. in your Firebird listening to Kiss, Aerosmith, Rush and The Nuge? This record reminds me of those days.    Andrew WK is a Michigan native who thinks Cheap Trick should’ve been fronted by Iggy Pop, not that fey Robin Zanders. He hadn’t done dookie here in the states, so enterprising records execs took him to England and introduced him to the “football hooligan” (don’t pronounce the “h”). It was love at first head-butt. This record is all about party. It’s also all about rock. There are no heartfelt ballads and only a sissy would want one anyway. The cover is a photo of Andrew WK with a bloody nose. That’s the subtle art launch for 40 minutes of the most terrific hard rock party jams to ever hit this planet since Black Oak Arkansas had lunch with the Ramones. I think Andrew WK stands for Andrew WILL KILL all those odious boy bands like N’sync and O-Town.   Put on your boxing gloves and jam out to these tunes ripe with bombast: “It’s Time to Party,” “Party Til You Puke,” “Party Hard” (watch M2 for 5 minutes and you’ll see this sweaty video). Andrew evokes Freddie Mercury (a gay guy playing a straight guy playing a gay guy) with “Take it Off” and “Ready to Die.” This is 80’s monster metal at it’s finest. Had Mutt Lange not met Shania Twain – he’d still be making Def Leppard records of this caliber. That said, I guess it’s probably just as well I didn’t have this record crankin’ in my 8-track back in 1978. It would have just caused me to drive my Mustang off the boat launch at Prien Lake Park more than twice.   No Doubt – Rock Steady I’ve always had a soft spot in my punk rock heart for No Doubt. They began as an Orange County Ska band in the 90’s and always stayed true to their SoCal punk/ska roots. This record is a severe departure from their others, but somehow they make it work without losing respect (mine, that is). Gwen and crew name this one after a 1950’s/1960’s London style of reggae, called “Rock Steady.” In this music black and white musicians play shuffling chanka chank rhythms, layered with subtle bluesy horns. It’s basically good dope smokin’ music for the hippies too hip for the Beatles or Duran Duran. There are no true “rock steady” tunes on this record. They may as well have called it “african flute waltzes.” This CD is a hodge podge (well, okay, more of a mish mash) of pseudo-reggae and stellar production. Ric Ocasek weighs in on “Don’t Let Me Down.” Ric, the Cars are waiting for you to return their patented synthesizer lick, pronto! Closer to the Jamaica side, Sly and Robbie of Black Uhuru fame twist the knobs on “Underneath it All.” Coolest song on the disc is Prince’s production of “Waiting Room.” Wait a minute, who’s the star here? Exactly, I spent more time listening to what the producers had done – it took away from the actual performance of the band. SO we have a decent ska/rock group and a handful of brilliant producers. That recipe turns out tasting a little forced and disjointed, like if you put garlic salt on your plantains. Gwen Stefani is still a California stone fox – she could sing a duck call tape and I would get all googly. But this record is too blatant an attempt to hit superstardom (I mean, like Celine Dion or something). No Doubt shouldn’t have to struggle so hard.   EARFUEL:   LEE ROY PARNELL - "Tell The Truth" (Vanguard) I was given this assignment by the editor of On the Run, Jerry Forest. He told me he had won the Duane Allman lookalike contest and therefore had been awarded a trip backstage to meet Lee Roy Parnell. I don't even know if he got to see Lee Roy, he told the whole story to my wife and she refuses to let me know the outcome - says she'll hand over the info on a need-to-know basis.  Nevertheless, it has been requested I review Lee Roy's latest album, now that he and Jerry are old fishin'/runnin'/drinkin' buddies who have each other's cell phone numbers. Lee Roy is an old Texas stalwart who came up amongst the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughn and Delbert McClinton. He is a stellar slide player (hence the Duane Allman joke) and has guested in that capacity on many million seller records (Garth and Trisha to name two). He's written countless hit songs and has 2 Grammy nominations under his belt. He favors Gibson guitars (just like Jerry Forest) and grew up addicted to the Allman Brothers (hmmmm - the parallels are frightening. JF also worships the ABB). On the new disc, Lee Roy partners up with Delbert Mc to belt out a west Texas burner a la Joe Ely "South By Southwest." He turns down a bluesier dirt road with the help of Keb Mo' - this song is a fine delta stomp called "I Declare." My favorite cut is the hi-octane raver/rocker "Crossin' Over." Lee Roy unleashes some blistering slide and his brilliant tone and sustain give it a wailing deep south feel. I think Jerry is pretending he doesn't know who Lee Roy Parnell is (I got to meet Lee Ann Perdenales - he writes) Mainly because LRP is right up the blues alley where Jerry once lived and still visits. I enjoyed this assignment. I can only hope maybe one day Jerry will introduce me to his new friend and I can gush and act a fool, 'cause I think this guy is a guitar genius!   CRACKER - "Garage D 'Or" (Virgin) Cracker got out of their record deal with Virgin with this greatest hits/b-sides package. Their new record is the brilliant and under-rated "Forever" - a studio album released on their own Back Porch label. I think Forever is their best record since the post-Camper Van Beethoven days. It's lean and hungry and quite astounding in it's creativity and pushing the envelope. I'll review that one down the road after it sinks in a bit. In the meantime……. Garage D' Or is a collection of Cracker's greatest hits. Remember "Low" - the video had Sandra Bernhard beating the dookie out of lead singer David Lowery. :"Teen Angst" the anti-Harry Connick Jr. song that said "What the world needs now is another Frank Sinatra like I need a hole in my head."  Lowery and his band of Virginians have long been the sarcastic voice of reason in an otherwise pat world of yes men and political correctness. He is the cynic you used to hate in college - but you have to admit you found yourself laughing more than once at his observations. "I'm a Little Rocket Ship" will blast the dust off your stereo like an afterburner - it is truly great power pop incarnate. The cover of Flamin Groovies "Shake Some Action" rocks likewise - this band is pure energy and power - they don't pretend or affect cliches or drama. They mix country flavored roots rock with bashing heavy metal - the hybrid is pure fun. "Get Off This " is another Lowery gem that will have you dancing and remembering how cool the 90's really were. Cracker may be one of the last great rock bands in the wasteland of N'Sync and Britney. I say we cherish them and give them a safe place in our CD collection. It's sort of like protecting the whooping crane.   Here are a couple of obscurities available to South Louisianians only through the www:   PAT McLAUGHLIN - "UNCLE PAT" (Cream Style Records) Pat McLaughlin had a deal with CBS through the late 80's/early 90's. I first saw him when he was touring with Bruce Hornsby. He is very much of a John Hiatt/John Prine/John Mellancamp kind of songwriter. His music never hit it as big as the John-trio listed - but I find his songs more personal and endearing than the public offerings of the wealthier, more hallowed (and affected) troubadors. He did a stint with the band Tiny Town - it consisted of Pat and members of the SubDudes (of NOLA). They toured the world in the late 90's - but now Mr. Mac seems happy to pen the occasional hit for George Strait or Trisha Yearwood, kickin' back on his Franklin, TN porch with an iced tea and an old flat-top. The difference between PM and his contemporaries is his folk songs are based in funk rather than country or bluegrass - so heavy amounts of bluesy soul flows so effortlessly through his tunes. This is his first solo record - and he released it on his own label. It is a radio staple here in Nashville - "Back Screen Door" gets the most airplay. It is a laid back blues number with gospel harmonies on the chorus. This record has the feel of a Stax-era Memphis soul hit. "Two Lights in the Nighttime" has that Al Green feel to it. Uncle Pat can rock, though, as witnessed on "Way More Than I Need" and the kick ass drive of "Really Feely Girlfriend." I talked to Pat at a recent acoustic songwriter show, and he said this record started off as a homemade demo that he was going to use to shop his songs around NashVegas. Lucky for us - he decided to release this stellar collection of southern gems for public listening and butt-rockin.' To get Uncle Pat - go to www.patmclaughlin.com.   LUCKY DOG - "SUPER CHARGED FLASH CRACKERS" (Spunout Records) I received this record in the mail from my old friend Lex van den Berge. I first met him back in 1989 when his band The Frontier Wives opened up for Dash Rip Rock on Haight St. in SFCA. We hit it off with those guys - they were like a mellow west coast version of our band. Lex went on to work at Adobe and Apple during the Tech Boom and now he's semi-retired. I hadn't heard from him in about three years when last fall my wife hollered up to me to come down and see who's on the TV. Well - it was Lex. He had been chosen to be on "Survivor: Africa." Once the shock wore off - I enjoyed tuning in and watching his travails - he was the tattooed surfer dude that actually made it to the top four. But alas - he missed out on the cool mil but instead got some great press and got to see some wildlife. Upon speaking to him after his adventure, I found out he had survived 12 parasites from the fonky drinking water and dropped 35 lbs. Now - his band has a new record and it's really a good one. "SCFC" is a collection of laid back pop hits. It's reminds me at first listen of Counting Crows or Wallflowers. "Dawn" chugs along like a Badfinger song, there are some catchy "na na na's" at the kickoff and the feelgood vibe courses throughout. There are a lot of pop twists similar to the Beatles and Todd Rundgren ("Burden,"" Speaking in Tongues")- all filtered through engaging (but not overpowering) guitar-driven music. Towards the middle, the songs feature a lot of tinkling piano - brit-pop ala Elton John. My favorite song is "Tonight Your Dreams Arrive." It features subtle harmonies and trippy choruses (sort of like the post -pot, pre-LSD Brian Wilson). Lex may not have made a million shedding pounds on the dark continent, and he may not make millions off his cool little band - but Lucky Dog is a classic west coast rock band that can stand proud among it's peers (Toad the Wet Sprocket, Dishwalla, and Third Eye Blind).  You can buy this record at www.luckydogrocks.com.   CAROLYN WONDERLAND - "Alcohol and Salvation" - MP3.com CD Wonderland is a blues belter in the tradition of Janis Joplin, Bonnie Raitt and Sophie B. Wright, in that order. From originator to innovator to imitator, she can give you the run of the stereotype. She's from Houston, brassy as all get-out, and has been working the southern chitlin circuit for more than a decade. Her experience isn't from the gilded studios of VH1 and RCA, rather it's from the tin roof, pressed wood roadhouses of Hwy. 90 as it runs through the deepest backwoods. She has finally started turning from the cliche' snafu rock casualty to a more acoustic, folk inspired form of roots rock. And it's a refreshing switch, because the whole tragic lady blues melodrama is tired, lame, and probably a little physically stressful to uphold. She's added mandolins, fiddles and dobros to her Texas-based blues - and it gives it the "now" sound that Nashville's drooling for - real live pain sung but real live people who've lived through it (Jonny Lang need not apply). GO to MP3 and download her 10 or so songs. It's free music that will change your mind about the current state of new blues. ALLISON KRAUSS - "The Lucky One" - MP3.com download Here's two songs off Krauss' stellar new CD. She's got pop chops swirled into a soft bluegrass base. There are no loud bangs on this record - just very soothing sultry voices and strings playing melodies that put the mind at ease. She continues to ride the tsunami that was last year's massive breakout - Oh Brother. Go get these two free songs and you'll surely want to hear more.     SUPAGROUP – Rock and Roll Tried to Ruin My Life (SupaRecs) Here is one of Louisiana’s latest greatest rock and roll bands. They are  bunch of New Orleans misfits who have been touring the USA with ZZ Top, Ted Nugent and most impressively, Nashville Pussy. Brothers Benji and Chris Lee head up this hard rock locomotive, serving up a foot stompin’ mix of AC/DC-Deep Purple-influenced space boogie and cutting edge punk rock head banging. “Spit It Out” kicks off the CD – punchy guitars blaze throughout with Benji Lee knocking off his best Ronnie Montrose licks with verve and lots of sweat. Next comes “What you see is what you get” – more wallpaper-peeling high volume decadence.  Song 5 slows us down into a sort of Black Crowes groove – it’s almost a welcome break (now I can rest my neck). It’s called “A Murder, a Suicide and a Death” – a woeful tale of love gone wrong as only a nasty 70s-era rocker can tell it. The final cut is my favorite – it’s also the title cut.  Chris Lee swaggers his way through this gem – it says everything a rock song should say. “Bon Scott was my godfather – he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse . He said come on boy and sit awhile and let me teach you about the blues.”  No fluff, no filler, no ditties – every one of Supagroup’s songs have the word “ROCK” in them (well, give or take a couple) and that is exactly what this record is all about. Play this record loud and proud– it will ruin your life, and hopefully your neighbors’. (www.supagroup.com)   WILLIE NELSON – The Great Divide.  (Island/DefJam) Willie has hooked up with uber-rock producer Brendan O’Brien (Pearl Jam, Black Crowes) for this interesting mix of country and rock.. Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 helps him kick off the CD. I supposed Willie is hoping Rob’ll jumpstart his career same as he did Santana’s. We’ll see. Sheryl Crow weighs in on “Be There For You” – a little better pairing than with the moody Thomas. Crow sings as if she’s in awe of Nelson – she is right to be honored. Her admiration of the RHS shows in her simple elegant performance. Kid Rock needs to crawl back into his detroit double wide. After seeing him ruin and skewer Aerosmith among others at various award shows, I don’t respect his artistry at all (if you can call it that) and I wish Willie hadn’t a-been forced to stoop so low. Thank the Good Lord and Willie Dixon Bonnie Raitt shows up to rescue this disc. “You Remain” is her duet with Mr. Pigtails and she honors his legend much as Crow. I think the artists that retained some humility really contributed to this half-collection of duets. It’s the macho white rapper bull that causes me to hit “skip”. Covers of “The Great Divide, What Condition my Condition Was In” and “Time After Time” leave Willie alone to interpret these classics as only he can. This is a balanced record with only one or two flubs.     EAR FEE-YULE:   SETH JAMES - "Bad Luck and Trouble" (Write On Records) Were he still with us, Stevie Ray Vaughn would be extremely proud of what a powerful force his amazing guitar legacy has become. You can't throw a cow chip in the Lone Star state and not hit a teenage SRV impersonator. Due to the success of Johnny Lang and Kenny Wayne Shepard, them Texas rugrats are putting down their Playstations and picking up battered blues axes. They're belting out sorrow like they've been shot by a "foty-fo", stabbed, arrested, unfairly imprisoned and walked on by 14 Mississippi hookers. Problem is: most of them can't sell it. Their Dad bought them the guitar and they took lessons and they just got their braces off and putting on Clearasil is such a drag. Sincerity is not their forte. Seth James is an exception. He is a 21-yr. old blues belter from Austin. He plays standing up sometimes. He sits down and wails a la Jeff Healey on occasion. This kid is a blast to watch live. His first record showcases his blues guitar prowess - through a collection of 8 original songs and a couple of covers. The songwriting is strong here - no cliches (woke up this morning, etc.). He doesn't get out of the realm of his experience, which is what sets him apart from his dawg-lyin' contemporaries. "Sweet Thing" kicks off the record with just the right amount of West Texas twang. He isn't shadowing SRV, he's paying homage with his own style and substance. From there, the record swings through emotional R&B (Crying at Midnight), thumping 70's soul - think Al Green (Chains at my Feet), and Hendrix-styled paint-peeling classic rock (Going Down). This is an impressive debut from a promising original Texas guitarist. Available at www.sethjames.com.   LESLIE SATCHER - "Love Letters" (Warner Brothers Records) Herein we have the honor of witnessing the work of Nashville's star songwriter du jour. Leslie Satcher is queen (for the moment) of the fickle country music songwriting factory. Her standout hit is Martina McBride's "When God-Fearing Women Get the Blues." When locals are lucky enough to see Ms. Satcher perform live  - she laughingly calls that composition her "condo on the beach in Destin." Yes, this chick makes money writing hits for the Garths, Rebas and Faiths - but it's nice to see her stepping out and singing her songs "for her ownself." This disc starts out with the dirge-like title cut. It's a moody long-lost-love tune that affects a trance. I think it fits the material perfectly. If country music is supposed to convey deep emotion - this one strikes true. The music picks up with "Everytime it Rains." "A Man with Eighteen Wheels" is a tribute to the trucker (that hard working blue collar nomad of the "innerstate") It's a fun song and pulls this record out of what may have seemed like a gloomy thematic direction. She picks up the smile factor with a delta-dark version of Bobbie Gentry's "Ode to Bille Joe." There are no currently-tracking blockbuster hits on this record. Jo Dee Messiner or Treesha Yarwood hasn't covered any tunes offa here. But what's cool is: "It Can't Be Good to Hurt That Bad" and "Texarkana" could be gigantic country smash songs (CMA winners, Grammy nominees, all). But they are buried here on this obscure songwriter's record. This disc is an undiscovered gem. It is widely available in your local record stores. Pick it up and you too can be privy to the deep dark secrets of Nashville.     Earfuel   I’m cruising through the MP3 alternative country charts trying not to bust my stitches. The song titles are like a rolling Beverly Hillbillies episode: “Why Do You Wear Our Ring on Your Middle Finger?” by Bob Grez; “Hey Mister, Take Care of My Kids and My Wife” by Mukkadurken; “Stumblin Tumbleweeds” and “Oh No, Here Comes the Sheriff” by the Rude Street Peters. You’ve probably heard better – every so often a bored journalist does that big “funny country music song titles” expose (those silly rednecks sure are clever, huh?). I chanced upon a couple of records that are in the opposite direction of typical butt dumb toothless trailer park cough-alongs. Can country be smart? Why SHORE!   CLEM SNIDE – “The Ghost of Fashion” (spinART) This is a Boston combo that moved down to the Big Apple in the 90’s. I guess Boston wasn’t country enough for them and they wanted to taste the pain and agony of failure in a BIG TOWN. This band plays a form of music called “art country” and it is a very interesting and sometimes brilliant style of roots folk. With the “smartening” of country music upon us – bands like this are springing up everywhere. I think Tom Waits and Nick Drake may have had something to do with their inspiration, but certainly Wilco, Sun Volt and Lucinda Williams drove the point home. “Ghost of Fashion” is a basic organic recording of smart poetic music, no frills or fancy gee-gaws. (Gee-Gaws is a country word meaning fancy and pretentious nick nacks, by the way, and Clem Snide would be thrilled I used it). Check out “Day in the Sun” on their MP3 site – you’ll be drawn in by the charming simplicity of this smart bunch of east coast lads. It’s great they have chosen to adopt a southern art form and inject some dark gotham vibe. I think country ain’t always sposed to be sunny banjo music.   CORY MORROW – “Outside the Lines” (Write On Records) Texas has birthed some awesome singer/songwriters in the recent past. The school of Townes Van Zant and Guy Clark begat Lyle Lovett and Robert Earl Keene who in turn begat Pat Green and Cory Morrow. This new group of country singers has set the lone star state ablaze – tearing up honky tonks, festivals, but mostly frat houses and college drinking bars. The Texas coed is ga-ga for this brainy form of swingin’ party music. It’s so exclusively a Tejas phenomenon – that music fans in most other states have yet to discover these cowboy rock stars. Soon that will not be the case. Pat Green has broken through with a few big radio hits and is a CMT video staple. His Texas Tech college roommate was Cory Morrow. This record, produced by Dixie Chick Dad Lloyd Maines, is a collection of rowdy bar anthems and soft, gentle love songs. Morrow is a great tunesmith and gives performances that indicate to the listener that he is moved emotionally – there are no cold, mechanical offerings here. “Outside the Lines” is the hit. It’s a romping country rocker that covers the age-old dilemma of playing by the rules or being a rebel and breaking them. His band is full of top notch players – so the instruments hold your ear. Covers of the Dead’s “Friend of the Devil” and Drivin’ and Cryin’s “Straight to Hell” show us where Cory’s coming from influence-wise. New country has taken a turn into the smart lane – and that really pleases me cause, hey, I’m a intelligent guy – I went to LSU and got my degree in Advanced Beer and Pool Halls.   THE HISTORY OF BATON ROUGE PUNK Baton Rouge Punk/New Wave Scene 1980-1984   Clubs:   The Bayou – Chimes St.’s oldest pool hall/music club – had 75 cent longnecks on Friday             The Industry – located downtown by the old state capitol. Gay bar/music venue             Mother’s Mantle – College bar on Highland.             The Chimes – Most popular music venue during this period. Now a restaurant             The Library – two doors down from the Bayou             The Bengal – another highland road college bar             The Tiger’s Lair – a tiny apartment complex club set way back into Tigerland Jacy’s – another club near downtown – set in a horrible neighborhood on Florida Blvd. Doubled as a biker bar. Trinity’s/Chief’s – The old Kingfish (site of Sex Pistols gig) The Ghetto – Hubert Humphrey live here while attending LSU – it is a dump of an apartment complex on Chimes – Punk bands would play in the ghetto courtyard. Spray-painted on the fence – “Long Live Apathy” The Brass Rail – biker bar on Highland Papa Joe’s – rock club out near quiet Sherwood Forest neighborhood   Bands:  The Shitdogs The Times The Parallelles             The Noise             The Human Rayz             Harry Dog and the Fleas             Bobbo             What Four             M.O.B.             Vacation Bible School             The Pigs             O.F.B.             Scooter and the Mopeds Dash Rip Rock The Dick Nixons Vinyl Britches Lower Chakras       THE SHITDOGS My earliest recollection of the Baton Rouge punk scene was as a 3-year junior walking into the Bayou one night and seeing the Shitdogs. They sounded muddy, their instruments were out of tune and they were really pissed off at the audience. The sound was pre-Seattle grunge and the band looked mostly like old hippies who had accidently gotten bad haircuts and put on Chuck Taylor sneakers. The key figure in their stage show was Bill Mallory – the 5’5 bass player who worked at the local record store. He was decked out in a black t-shirt, black pants and his hair was flying around in a real MC5 kinda white boy afro. His eyes pointed left and right and when you spoke to him, he’d turn his head so one eye would haphazardly be pointing at you. Audience members were taunting him “Mallory, you suck.” He would appear to be very upset and say “Fuck you, leave outta here, you fucks”’… and so on. Then – the heckler simply had to call his name – and he’d go off on a ballistic cussing tirade. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen a rock band do. Later, at other Shitdog’s shows we would simply holler out “MALLORY” just to see him go off. Their big hit at the time was “Not Responsible” which had been released on a New Orleans’ punk compilation. They would later go on to release a number of hilarious 7” EPs – “The History of Cheese” (Can’t think of the others).  Other members: John Lilly – lead vocals, Billy Swayze – guitar. Their all-time coolest gig was the annual Halloween party called the “Carlotta St. Ball” – they would close off Carlotta Street (Off of State ST.) and have a costumed acid dance. It was the gig that defined the Shitdogs. The Shitdogs were also responsible for the graffiti that was everywhere around LSU.  Their favorite band was Hawkwind – so they spray-painted “HAWKWIND – YOU QUEERS” in and around the campus. The only clubs that the Shitdogs were allowed to play were the Bayou and The Brass Rail.   THE TIMES – Gino Luti was the lead singer and captivating stage persona that energized the Times. They were a 60’s style garage punk band that sprinkled Animal and Kinks covers into their British Invasion-style originals. Luti was a madman on stage – swinging the mike around and smashing on a tambourine. He wore a mohawk and cut a wild figure with his tall italian frame. They played mostly at Mother’s Mantle and Chief’s – drew a good bit of college kids including some greeks. They often played the local music fest “Fest-For-All” and were an exciting retro-punk outfit. Other members: Don Snaith – bass (from Jamaica, spoke with slight British accent) Hans Van Brackle – Lead guitarist (I think he worked as a research chemist at Exxon) – David Vetter – drums – went on to own the local ABC-affliate Channel 33. Thye Times released several 7” 45s and one LP called “I Wanna Go To London” They once opened for Blondie in the LSU Assembly Center.   THE PARALLELLEs – all girl group that was fronted by a breath-takingly gorgeous front girl whose name escapes me. They played X and Siouxie-styled new wave. Hans Van Brackle’s wife Margie played bass in this band. Never released any records. MEMORIES FROM CATHERINE LAUNEY (the gorgeous front-girl): Hi :-)  I'm Catherine of The ParalElles - got to correct your spelling, there :-) My daughter (also the daughter of Don Snaith of The U.S. Times) just sent me this link to your website - Of course I remember "Dash Riprock", "Harry Dog and the Fleas", etc. To add to your history of The ParalElles:   I have no idea which one of us you think was gorgeous (ha!) but when we were 5 women strong, we were: Angela Kennedy on lead guitar, Melanie Wells on rhythm guitar, Margie Van Brackle on bass, Melanie (last name maybe "Wright"?) on drums, and Catherine Launey on vocals/keyboard.  We played as a 4 woman band after that (without Angela Kennedy).  After that, we were 2 women and 2 men:  Melanie Wells on guitar, Herschel (last name?) on bass, Catherine Launey on vocals/keyboard, and various drummers (last one I remember was "John"). The U.S. Times were Gino Luti on vocals, Hans Van Brackle on guitar, Don Snaith on bass, and Buddy Bowers on drums. The US Times recorded a single and at least 2 LP's (one was called "Wanna Go to London").  The ParalElles recorded a single and a 9-song EP cassette tape entitled "The First Nine Tails".  A second cassette tape entitled "The Next 8" was never commercially released. Don Snaith and Catherine Launey are divorced, and Catherine moved to Southern California.  In California, the children (daughter Simone & son Shane), each have their own rock bands.  Simone sang for 3 years with her band called "Wallace" (recently folded) and Shane's band called "Jonny Was" has been going (with various member changes) for about 5-6 years. Of course, nobody's memory is perfect :-)  I really don't know for a FACT how many 45's "The Times" (later, "The U.S. Times") released, but I certainly remember the 45 with "Call Vinnie" on one side and "Looking for Mr. Right" on the other.  I still have the "Wanna Go to London" LP and I thought there was another LP after that  You should contact Don ("Snake") Snaith in Baton Rouge for all the details.... Interesting fact: Our son Shane in his band Jonny Was covers one of The U.S. Times' songs ("Wanna Go to London") on their current self-released EP CD.  Shane says The ParalElles' songs (mainly the bass parts) are a little too difficult to cover.  Maybe some day he'll arrange one of them, for his band to cover. Correction: What I am calling The ParalElles' "single" was technically an EP, sorry :-).  It was a 45 with 3 songs on it that got some airplay at the LSU radio station and also at some other small Louisiana radio stations.  It was sold in Baton Rouge and New Orleans music stores, and I actually saw and heard it played in New Orleans on a jukebox!  That was quite a "trip", to hear it played from a jukebox :-)  Our 9-song cassette tape ("The First Nine Tails") was of a MUCH better quality.  We sold it along with T-shirts in Louisiana music stores and at shows. DJs: Since you mentioned WPRG's djs, that reminds me of something else....I was a music school major at LSU from 1973-1978 and the music school's representative to the student goverment association.  During that time period, I advocated for and was on the communications committee that ended up creating LSU's FM radio station :-)  I doubt if any of the current LSU djs know that, but I'm really proud to be part of that history....   THE NOISE – Fronted by female vocalist Cathy Hendrix – The noise was made up of college dj’s (WPRG, later KLSU) and LSU students. They played sixties pop like Dino, Desi and Billy, Paul Revere and the Raiders,  The Searchers and Herman’s Hermits – mixed in with punk rock/new wave of X and the Pretenders. They played mostly at the Bayou but once had a great gig in the old Greek Amphitheater on LSU’s campus (Freak at the Greek – bands had to pull straws to see who went where in the line-up). Some of their originals were “My Boyfriend is a Soda Jerk” “Fat Kidz” and “WAP 515” – Members” Bill Davis – guitar, vocals, Ricky Hoffman – bass, Butch Golsan -  drums. They once opened for The Fleshtones at Trinity’s. Their biggest gig was playing with Iggy Pop at Trinity’s.   THE HUMAN RAYZ – The Noise replaced Cathy Hendrix with Tim Parrish and became the Human Rayz. Tim was a remedial reading teacher at LSU (he taught college kids to read!). The band was heavily into drugs and psychedelia and their gigs were often strange melanges of drugs, booze and indecipherable music and lyrics. Each member had a “Ray” name: Ray Don Entebbe, Ray Gene Bull, Marina Del Ray and E. Ray Sorehead. Tim would often perform the entire show from a large Hefty trash bag. Band members wandered off stage in the middle of solos and the audience would usually end up performing with the band in some strange capacity. Their crowd favorites : “The Body” – a song in which the entire crowd would lay on the floor like cadavers, “Glasses in the Pool” a song about a pool volleyball game, “Refrigerator” and “Daddy’s Ride” a song about sorority girls and their parental money flow. The Human Rayz release a 7” 45 with the songs “Hit The Cat” and “Chemical Kids”. It was recorded in an old timey country music studio in Baker, LA. The songs feature synthesizer and lots of random yelling. The Rayz were enamored with X, Devo, REM and Capt. Sensible. They split up after Tim took a summer vacation in Europe and Bill formed Dash Rip Rock.   HARRY DOG AND THE FLEAS – This band had it’s own style and sound. Harry was a make-up wearing dynamo who ruled the stage as lead singer. Backup vocalist Liz was a wild addition and lead guitarist Boykin played wild rockabilly licks over the driving punk base. They covered Gang of Four’s “I love a man in uniform” and some obscure 60’s garage punk. Played mostly at Chief’s and the Bayou. Never released any records.   WHAT FOUR- Had a good looking lead chick singer and sorta mimicked the sound of Bow Wow Wow. Their classic live songs was “Hanky Panky”  Opened for the Times occassionally and disappeared. Guitarist – Tim Smith, Electric Earl - guitar   BOBBO- From “What Four” Tim formed Bobbo (Mark on bass, Mike on drums) Bobbo played artistic punk and really had a distinct sound. Hardly did any covers. Their best gig was when a local TV station tried to form up a local “David Letterman” style show, Bobbo got the gig as house band. Played mostly at the Chimes. Tim later went on to form the New York City punk rock band “Fuck” – they were popular in Manhattan in the late 90’s – but their name held them back from getting any bigger.   M.O.B – they were called the Mean Old Bitches  and they tried to keep it a secret – when it got out – they were really pissed. This is an all-girl punk band formed by Bill Mallory’s little sister. They played mostly at Jacy’s and they were a lot like a female Shitdogs.   VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL – art rock band – very much into ENO and King Crimson. Played mostly at Mother’s Mantle.   THE PIGS – this was by far the most punk of any of the bands. The Pigs lived on the street, never bathed, sniffed glue and drank cheap wine. They would sneer at the other bands for being students or having jobs. The Pigs were on an FBI list as anarchist trouble-makers and the local newspaper once did a big exposed on “murdering punk rockers living in Baton Rouge.” They played horribly and each one would try to out-Sid the other. Their music was very noisy but they looked great! Eventually they grew up and moved outta town.   O.F.B – Maury O’ Rourke and Don ????? formed this country-styled punk band and became a fixture on the scene. They were pals with Jason and the Scorchers and REM – so they got decent opening slots. Their music was drunk country rock with slammin drums and noisy out-of-tune guitars. O’Rourke was a thin wiry snake of a singer and he had a sarcastic nasal twang that fit the music perfectly. They released an LP called “Saturday Night, Sunday Morning” that was distributed around the world. They eventually moved out of town and broke up the band. OFB stands for “our favorite band”.   SCOOTER AND THE MOPEDS Scooter a wild lead singer who was taken with fits of Adam Ant impersonation. He would wear the old pirate attire on stage and was a wild maniac of a frontman. The band played cool originals (“Chimes Street Beat”) and lots of brit-pop covers. They also played a lot of current hits like “Turning Japanese” and “I’m the Man”. Gigged mostly at the Tiger’s Lair – a tiny upstairs/downstairs bar that only held about 10 people. Also played Papa Joe’s a lot – out near Sherwood Forest. Guitarist Ned “Hoaky” Hickel would quit to join Dash Rip Rock. Scooter became DRR’s roadie.   DICK NIXONS- A band of cajuns from nearby Donaldsonville – The Nixons were by far the most outrageous and inflammable bands of this scene. They would host wrestling matches on stage and beat the shit out of each other. They had a giant fan called “the loot shoot” into which they’d throw 20 1-dollar bills and watch the crowd kill each other for the money. All of their songs had some kind of Richard Nixon theme and they each had characters – Kirk the Jerk Springstone – lead guitar and singer, Cowboy Johnny Radical – Tambourine, kazoo sax and 6-ft galvanized pipe, Chuck Left Wing – bass and President, The Professor beat a trash can as drums. They released a LP on Triple Nixxxon Records called “Paint The White House Black” and toured the country and even went to France. They were responsible for the discovery of Jack “The Cat” Millien – who was picking up cans on the side of the road when Kirk asked him to join the band on stage. This old cajun would recite “Purple Haze” and “Wild Thing” in his cajun accent while the band rocked hard behind him. It was a pure rock n’ roll moment when Jack took the stage. Occassionally his wife Gladys would join the band for a wailing version of “Jambalaya” – This was Louisiana Art Rock at it’s best – and I’m sure it will never be topped. They still play gigs around La. But for the most part they quit their campaign for Nixon’s re-election when their namesake passed away.   DASH RIP ROCK – The most successful band to come out of the BR punk scene – Dash recorded 10 albums, toured the world and even got on MTV a couple of times. Bill Davis and Hoaky Hickel formed this band with local frat-drummer guy Clarke Martty. They started as a punk rockabilly band – but then started adding REM-flavored southern pop. They became regionally-famous around 1987 and still to this day are touring and recording.       FANZINE –   SKINNER BOX – the only BR punk fanzine to exist during this period. Run by Chuck Steak (a famous local promoter who once brought Black Flag to Jacy’s) – The Skinner Box was a typical 80’s punk zine – bad photos – hilarious writing and scathing band reviews. Chuck was like the Andy Warhol of the scene – if he showed up at your gig, you knew you were cool. He quit publishing the Box in 1989 moved to San Francisco.   RADIO   WPRG/KLSU – all local bands could cart up their music and have it played on KLSU. DJ’s during this period included Cathy Hendrix, Beau Behan, Dave the Rave Crawford, Peter Evans, Miles (Bryan Jackson) Alan ???? and Bill Davis. The station broadcast at a range of about 10 miles and was located in the basement of Tiger Stadium.     TIM PARRISH'S BR PUNK RECOLLECTIONS: Meanwhile, a Baton Rouge scene was sprouting, mainly in a club called Damn Shame, but really anywhere the bands could get a gig. Loud, abrasive, eccentric, bizarre-looking people and bands like the Shitdogs, Jett Rink and the Solar Skates, the Times. I didn't join in, but I kept my ears open to rogue radio signals—Elvis Costello, the Ramones, the Talking Heads. Then bands came to the Bayou, the bar where I hung. Jason and the Nashville Scorchers, the Red Rockers, the Gun Club, Translator, R.E.M. In my fiction-writing class I met a guy named Bill Davis, who led an edgy punk-pop unit called the Noise. Bill was one of the best and wildest performers I'd ever seen, bouncing and shrieking as he laid down demented Chuck Berry leads at light speed, or lying on his back with his head inside the bass drum as the rest of the band blazed through one of Bill's smart-aleck originals. People acted crazy, shock-treatment dancing, pogoing, skanking, flailing without partners; there were no rules. After a while Bill and I got the idea we'd start a 'zine, but when that promised to be too expensive and too much work, he came to my place near the bus station with another idea: "Let's start a band. We'll call it the Human Rayz. We'll give ourselves Ray names like Ray D. Ator and use a drum machine." We enlisted a bass player, Kevin Bourgeois, who had a four-track and a drum machine, and at our first practice wrote and recorded five songs. Next practice we wrote eight more. Then we booked a gig at a Women Against Rape rally and recruited the Noise's drummer to supplement the drum machine. Butch the drummer showed up at the Bayou having never heard any of our songs. Bill told him, "Just play four-four fast unless I give you the sign, then play fucked-up." During the gig, our pal Groundhog reclined onstage in a lounge chair, reading comic books. People laughed and shouted at us. I didn't know a key or a chord. I didn't know most of the lyrics I'd written. The assault of sound was beautiful. Within a year the Noise was dead, and the Human Rayz were recording in a country-music studio owned by a pillhead named Furr. We called him "Psychedelic," a joke he didn't get. We'd spasmed our way into rock 'n' roll. * * * Early on, Bill's hyper schedule made it hard to write more songs; also, he was dissatisfied with my lack of musical knowledge. So I recruited a painter/actor/guitar player named Brian Storey to write with me. We came up with songs like "Quest of the Nubiles" and "Your Love's a Bad Science Fiction Movie," but Bill hated Brian's thick-fingered playing. Practice became a battlefield of dueling amps, where I could rarely hear my vocals. An old friend of Bill's (we didn't yet know he was literally delusional) lied enough about us to book the Rayz at a heavy metal club for three nights, for real money-—almost two hundred dollars. The night of the gig, Brian and Bill sniped at each other all the way to the club. When we arrived, we found an extensive list of "No's" (No ripped jeans, No tank tops) evidently designed to keep the sleaziest bikers out. I scrounged up some paper and a marker and made signs of my own (No fun, No future) and, thinking I was cute, posted them on the sides of the stage. Before we played our first note, several long-haired dudes shot comments at me about how smart-asses got their asses whupped and how they didn't need any queers in here (our short hair and thrift-store Lost-in-Space shirts evidently classified us), but that didn't prepare me for the wasted guy who stumbled to the front of the stage midsong, brandished a knife and demanded we play ZZ Top. The place was filled with people, mostly jeering at us, but people nonetheless, so I just laughed and asked, was he going to kill us in front of so many witnesses. He seemed unable to process that complex a question. I turned and told the band to play ZZ Top. Everybody stumbled into "Just Got Paid"—a joke, but Bill yelled in Brian's face, did he know how to play guitar? Brian threw his guitar at Bill and stormed out. The crowd cheered for the only time that night. I told Bill he was an asshole, but still, the whole thing seemed cool, unslick, wide open with potential. We were fired after the first set. * * * Over time the lineup settled into Marina Del Ray (Bill) on guitar, E. Ray Sorehead (Ricky) on bass, Ray Penn Murder (Butch Golson) on drums and me, Ray Don Entebbe, on vocals and found percussion (cans, bottles, tables, an old Air Force marching drum, audience members). Our songs spanned a schizophrenic range of taste du jour: punk, high-tension pop, new wave, psychobilly, ska, trashadelic. The Damn Shame was long dead, and the town's regular bars resisted booking local, original new music bands, so we were forced to create an underground scene wherever we could. In deserted downtown Baton Rouge, a gay club called the Industry relented. The club was a block from the Mississippi River, beneath the glowing sky lit by Exxon's and Allied's flare stacks. Inside, a mirrored wall, a muraled ceiling and a bouncy, rickety, two-tiered stage gave the place a surreal air. After we started playing there, Saturday nights soon began to bring not only middle-aged businessmen, drag queens, a crowd with angular hair and striped, torn clothing but also a group of fundamentalist Christians who denounced fornicators and homosexuals at the bar's entrance. To get to the door we waded through haranguing witnesses, me brandishing a velvet painting of a crying Jesus as protection. At the club's entrance stood a dismembered mannequin nailed to a cross, which really got the Christians going. Then one night at an MDC gig, a group of hard-core punks beset the Christians, clawing at their legs and begging for salvation. Several of the punks sliced crosses into their foreheads and arms and tried to smear blood on the converters, routing them. After that, the cops pressured the Industry to send us all packing. During our final song at the club's final gig, somebody bounced a full can of beer off my head, almost knocking me out. * * * We played guerrilla gigs: a skankfest at LSU's Episcopal Church with Bobbo and Da Pigs; in the bed of a moving pickup during the Krewe of Clones' Mardi Gras parade; at an apartment-complex courtyard in Tiger Land—until the cops came. Finally we headed south to Gonzales, to a bar that Harry Dog and the Fleas had found, a faltering strip club called the Watering Hole, on a dirt road bordering BASF Wyandotte Chemicals, the plant where my dad had worked since the '60s. Out there, things cut to the core. Dancers piled onto the beer-soaked floor doing the Body during our psychedelic dirge "Bodies in the House" ("there were bodies in the house/but we tried not to notice") and squirmed on their bellies like writhing maggots when Harry Dog and the Fleas covered "Human Fly." Misfits of all stripes, from gay rednecks to eccentric Southern gentry, thrashed, pogoed and slammed. Punks stole mike stands; psychodramas erupted between Harry Dog's girlfriends; Marina Del Ray played guitar while doing toot in the bathroom; Ray Penn Murder forgot his drumsticks and used a broken pool cue; I flew into rages; chemical stench tinged the air. It was all excess and aggressive music, but among the drugs, booze and unstable personalities, a fractured community formed. Amazingly, our smart-ass pop single "Chemical Kids" ("I'm just a chemical boy,/I want a chemical girl,/I think we should go together,/ Won't you go down to Love Canal with me") scored heavy airplay on LSU's radio station, and we began to get gigs at respectable clubs—obviously the beginning of the end. In the years since first seeing the Sex Pistols, I'd gotten married and divorced, had dived into and been spit out of a crazed relationship and had become a college teacher of developmental reading. My lyrics had turned dark and troubled: "Morbid Curiosity," about a man voyeuristically searching for bad news about his ex; "Running the Fuse," about too much cocaine, angry sex and lack of communication; "Thirty Minutes," about nuclear war and ground zero for relationships—songs that were changing the Rayz' jokey persona. The summer our single came out, Bill wanted me to travel to college stations around the country to promote the band, but to get myself level I took a trip to Europe. When I got home two months later, Bill had started the cowpunk and rockabilly band Dash Rip Rock. Bill had seen that I wasn't ready to go on the road, and I knew that my talent couldn't breathe in a band with Bill. Within months, the Human Rayz had been dashed—a necessary death, but even so, no less like a brother's betrayal to both of us. Those years, the early to mid-'80s, crackled and depressed like no others I remember until now. Our gloom over Reagan's presidency and a predatory America made our small scene and the music we loved a refuge. Music and bands saved and defined us: the Cramps, the Clash, X, the Damned, the Leroi Brothers, Husker Dii, the Replacements, Evan Johns and the H-Bombs, the Ramones, the Jam, Joe Ely, the Blasters, the Minutemen, Dead Kennedys, Buzzcocks, Gang of Four, and on and on. Radical, rebellious, angst-ridden, retro, hilarious music we could dance to. By 1985 I was desperate to have another band. For a year I wooed Boykin Short, a basketball buddy who was also my favorite guitarist (formerly of the Fleas). Boykin was technically brilliant but also damaged, bright, daring and inventive in the way of the great trashabilly and R&B guitarists. Ultimately I got all the Fleas—Adam on drums, Ron on bass and, as second vocalist, Liz, a woman with a piercing, barely on-key vocal like Exene Cervenka's of X, my favorite band at the time. All we needed was a name. Then a friend told me a story about how she'd attended a repressive new-age high school in California. There the administration had demanded that the students "not listen to rock 'n' roll music because, in order to be holy, you needed to focus your energies on your upper chakras, and rock 'n' roll made all of your energy get trapped down in your lower chakras." We were set. The Lower Chakras poured off-harmonies, edgy roots-rock licks, do-it-yourself ethics, plenty of Busch beer and caustic postpunk lyrics and tempo through Marshall amps and came out with "36 Flags over Jesus," about local celebrity Jimmy Swaggart and his massive compound on the edge of town. We released "36 Flags" as a single, and its success made us eager to record an album. We needed money and didn't want to play frat parties, so we took on other strange gigs. A restaurant in downtown Gonzales, a provincial Cajun town, hired us to play on the street for two days and nights during the Jambalaya Festival in order to, as our employer said, "attract thirsty people." We knew that the crowd would be a mix of families, bikers and drunks, but we knew enough Stones, Kinks, Creedence, other '60s rock and Nuggets that we thought we wouldn't get fired. Our stage turned out to be a ten-by-twelve flatbed trailer with shin-high railings. There was barely enough room for our equipment and PA, much less five band members, but we kept laughing, "Easy money," as we crammed everything on and rigged the tricky power supply from the restaurant. * * *   Tuesday, January 27, 2004 Worth at least 1,000 words ... I mentioned a while back in my Fame, fortune and friends piece that one of the "famous" people I know is Bill Davis, founder and frontman of Dash Rip Rock. Dash, if you don't know, is Baton Rouge's most famous musical export since John Fred and The Playboys. So every once in a while, I pop in to the Dash site to see what's up. Bill now has a Yahoo! Group that includes a bunch of photos through the years, and apart from the pics of Bill playing the Grand Ole Opry (seriously, he made the Opry) and last year's recording session with none other than Glenn Tilbrook (he's the frontman for Squeeze, in case you're not cool enough to know that), there was one very old picture that grabbed my attention: It is, of course, a very early press photo of the band. Those of you (TCL, Scott) who had the pleasure of coming of age in Baton Rouge during the early/mid 1980s will notice that the man in the middle is none other than original DRR drummer F. Clarke Martty. Clarke was booted about 10 gigs in to the band's career in favor of the manic, over-energized and Church's Fried Chicken-stealing Fred LeBlanc (now heading Cowboy Mouth). A simple press photo, but man does it touch on a lot of the history of Cap'n Ken. First off, there's Dash Rip Rock themselves. Allow me, if you will, to transport you back to Baton Rouge, Louisiana - circa 1984. During the early 1980s, the Baton Rouge music scene was potent and fun. A lot of people trace the origins of the B.R. scene to a single night - Monday, January 9, 1978 - when the Sex Pistols played The Kingfish. The kids who saw the Pistols - and those who heard about the show - started buying punk records and forming bands of their own. By 1982, the scene included The Times, Harry Dog and The Fleas, The Shitdogs, Bobbo, Scooter and The Mopeds and The Human Rayz. I started 1982 as a 14-year-old spoiled "rich" kid with no exposure to local music. I had discovered The Clash, Elvis Costello, The B-52s and Devo, but had no idea what was going on down the road near LSU. But a funny thing happened that year - we got poor. Quick. I'd tell you that story, but you wouldn't believe it. But all of a sudden my family was poor, so we moved from our big house with a pool to a crappy little townhouse in a crappy part of town (still close to LSU, though). One day I walk out the front door and see the kid who lived across the walkway standing in his doorway playing electric guitar. The kid I met that day is Lee Barbier - currently in The Myrtles and now the elder statesman of the Baton Rouge rock scene. Lee introduced me to a kid who lived across the street named Bobby Cook. Bobby's sister's boyfriend happened to be the frontman for The Times. So the first live club show I saw was The (U.S.) Times at The Chimes sometime in 1983. Long story short(er), hanging out with Lee got me in to good, local music. Shows at the LSU Greek Theater and Oak Grove coupled with those times when we could sneak in to The Chimes exposed me to many of the aforementioned bands and all sorts of great, local music. And it was in 1983 that Lee and I discovered rockabilly. Rank and File, The LeRoi Brothers, Jason and the Scorchers and The Beat Farmers (the only album I've every bought before ever hearing the band - they just looked so cool) became the foundation of our musical existence. Lee loved to swap out Hank Jr. tapes for The LeRoi Brothers at keg parties. Sometimes the rednecks noticed; sometimes they did not. So when we heard that the guy from The Human Rayz was forming a rockabilly band with a guy from Scooter and The Mopeds, we were pumped. Lee and I (and a couple of other guys - maybe Scott?) left a party one Saturday night to go see Dash Rip Rock play their second gig ever. The audience consisted of us and Bill's Human Rayz bandmates. I think that's why he became friends with us. Not long after, they played an outdoor gig at LSU's Oak Grove. I taped that show through a boombox I sat on top of our ice chest. I captured a very early version of "Marsupial" along with a dozen bad country covers and countless interjections of "Hey, want a beer?" followed by the sound of the boombox being moved, ice shuffling, etc. That tape is among my now-lost treasures. The emergence of Dash Rip Rock was a turning point in my life. Not so much because of DRR themselves (although we'd see just about every gig they played in Baton Rouge), but because they made me obsessed with live music. At 16 and 17 years old, many of my weekends included shows at The Chimes, The Bayou or other venues around town. Without DRR, I probably wouldn't have seen the Red Hot Chili Peppers or Jason and the Scorchers at the LSU Cotillion Ballroom. Or Mojo Nixon, The Georgia Satellites, The Flat Duo Jets or The Tailgators at The Chimes. Or The Beat Farmers at The Bayou. Or that amazing Mardi Gras show at Jimmy's in New Orleans (DRR, Hoodoo Gurus, The dBs, The Fleshtones). Or The Replacements or They Might Be Giants at Tipitina's. Or, for that matter, Rocket From the Crypt at Echo Lounge two years ago. I don't listen to "mainstream" music. I hate commercial radio. The last arena concert I went to was The Police's on their Synchronicity tour. I like new, interesting music and I like seeing shows at clubs. And the picture above represents that for me. It was the beginning of DRR, and it was the beginning of a great period of my life. But also take a look at the backdrop of that photo. You'll notice the boys are in front of the "Old Colonel's Club," which was this great - but mostly unknown - bar tucked away under the Perkins Road overpass in Baton Rouge's garden district. The Old Colonel's Club was where TCL and I went to watch the election night coverage of the 1991 Louisiana gubernatorial primary. That was the race that pitted then-Governor Buddy Roemer against Edwin Edwards and David Duke. Roemer finished 3rd, meaning the next governor of Louisiana would be either Edwards or Duke. It was that night at the Old Colonel's Club that TCL and I decided we had to get out of Louisiana. I left about six months later. It took TCL a little longer, but we are now both happy and successful in Atlanta. The Old Colonel's Club closed down sometime after I left the state. A few years later it would be opened as a restaurant owned by my sister and her husband. It also closed. So, you see, the photo above represents not only the beginning of my life as a hipster music junkie, but also the end of my days as a prisoner of Louisiana.