Phil Donahue turned 76 last month (December 21). The man credited with creating “tabloid TV" hasn't held a regular gig since 2005, when MSNBC yanked his last show – either because he opposed the Iraq War (Phil's version), or his ratings lacked the candlepower of yore (everybody else's).
In July 1981, The Decline of Western Civilization gatecrashed art houses and midnight flicks across the land – led by its iconic poster image of Germs lead singer, Darby Crash, who never lived to see his big screen debut. (Crash died via deliberate drug overdose on December 7, 1980, only to be overshadowed the next day, by a certain J. Lennon's murder...you know that story.)
However I didn't get to see the fuss for myself until early '83. Living in West Michigan, we didn't entertain any debate about what constituted proper music. My Top 40-driven classmates had enough trouble understanding Elvis Costello, or Deborah Harry, let alone someone like Darby Crash – lying flat on his back, down for the count, oblivious to the chaos whirring around him...such as those adoring fans squiggling all over his body with Magic Markers (or “Magick Markers,” perhaps, in light of all those murmurings about punk's satanic connections)...see what I mean?
At any rate, Decline triggered a mini- punksploitation wave, including Fear's legendary “Saturday Night Live” appearance (Halloween '81) – instigated by John Belushi, of course – and laughable punk-related episodes on “CHiPS” (“Battle Of The Bands,” aired 1/31/82), and “Quincy, ME” (“Next Stop, Nowhere,” aired 12/1/82). (Interestingly enough, all three were NBC shows. For those who enjoy keeping score, the TV punk bands were dubbed Pain, and Mayhem, respectively...a fair indication of the mentality at work, eh?)
Phil did his part for punksploitation, too – knocking heads in his Chicago studio enclave with every sort of margin-walker imaginable. You name it, he had it, from crossdressers, to faith healers, neo-Nazis...and yes, punk rockers, which brings us back where we started.
Clips of Phil's '84 and '86 sitdowns with the hardcore tribe have popped up on Youtube, but not this occasion, documented on a hissy C-60 cassette tape (not Maxell or TDK, but some crappy off-brand, Cycles) that came into my hands. The date is given as 6/28/82, which may (or may not) be accurate. I don't know if this copy documents a rerun, or an original broadcast.
On this occasion, Phil referees between a group of avowed punks – how many are onstage, I'm not sure – and their uncomprehending antagonists, including Parents of Punkers founder Serena Dank, who grabbed her 15 minutes' worth during this sweater-clad, investment-obsessed decade as some kind of self-appointed expert on the genre.
Along the way, Phil treats the audience to a performance clip from Decline – in this case, “I Just Want Some Skank,” by the Circle Jerks – and pops the inevitable question about its depiction of slamdancing. “The dances are stoned, or otherwise mind-altered – throw in a little music, a couple of macho personalities, and you've got an inflammable situation. True?” Not so, the punks retort: “They're anti-drug. They're anti-drunk, lady – they're not into that.”
But Dank's not having any of it, claiming the scene attracts young people “that just don't know how to digest the message.” As Exhibit A, Dank cites “Robbie,” a teen who's apparently no longer interested in punking up, yet seems unable to muster more than a cursory explanation of motivated her in the first place: “I don't like being bored, and hanging around these people that I didn't like, and doing stupid things that I didn't like.”
Phil soon changes the subject to lyrics. Unfortunately, Phil chooses to quote from “Revenge,” and “Spraypaint The Walls” (Black Flag), plus “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” (Dead Kennedys), with all the solemnity of Winston Churchill addressing radio listeners during the London Blitz.
I had a writing teacher who did the same thing, and it gave me a headache, between my bouts of yawning – but that's exactly how Phil chooses to intone the opening salvo of “Nazi Punks”: “Punk ain't no religious cult (BIG PAUSE)...Punk means thinking for yourself (BIG PAUSE, BIG PAUSE, YET AGAIN)....You ain't hardcores 'cause you spike your hair (BIG PAUSE, DEAD AIR)...When a jock still lives inside your head” (SHORTER PAUSE, SILENCE).
However, Phil's deliberate mangling of the title as “Nazi Punk” gets him in trouble – since the song lyrics are an emphatic broadside against Nazis – which prompts a furious barrage of cross-talk from the punks: “NO, IT'S NOT! THAT'S NOT THE NAME!” (The Dead Kennedys' label, Alternative Tentacles, also references this incident on its website's biography page.)
Unruffled, Phil protests that he can't drop the F-bomb on TV – even it's part of a song – and, hence, that's why he shortened the title. So why not pick a song title that he can utter, without any problem?
Because, like any bigtime TV host, Phil enjoys playing every possible end against the middle; that's why roughly a third of this show gets devoted to the issue of his guests' appearance. Naturally, the audience gleefully weighs in on that score (“If it were my child, he wouldn't live in my house looking like that, that is for sure”), when not indulging in the odd bit of moralistic finger-wagging (“just be a good citizen, help other people, and be a good Christian – you're accomplishing nothing”).
Phil piles on, too. After conceding that his spiky-haired subjects might have legitimate grudges against a society “filled with corruption, a lot of poor people, a lot of drinking, a lot of injustice,” he goes for the jugular: “What you've done is make yourselves so bizarre, that you are – in effect – saying, 'Now, look, see how I look! Do you love me, anyway? Do you love me now?'”
Sufficiently warmed up, Uncle Phil further claims that his guests find “some sort of comfort in your own absurdity,” and “getting some joy out of making this corrupt society angry at you” – this, mind you, from the man who wore a skirt over his suit (however briefly) during a show about crossdressing!
The disconnect is enough to make a 16-year-old punk identified as “Jeff” – who assumes the thankless task of designated spokesman's role, as this show goes on, and on, and on – concede as much. However, he maintains that such gestures became necessary, “because the punks were sick of this whole hippie thing by the '70s, right?” he says. “The way it deteriorated in the '70s was, [by] not caring, and doing nothing.”
As capsule summaries go, that's a fair expression of the hardcore generation's distaste for the hippies-cum-boomers who felt so comfortable judging them – though, to be fair, Phil redeems himself (somewhat) in mid-show. After a woman voices puzzlement about why punks wouldn't feel compelled to fight for their country, he recalls the country's failure to question the Vietnam War.
“That's the kind of thing that'll get you 57,000 young men coming home in plastic zipper bags,” Phil warns. “So they [the punks] want you to think for yourself, and not be such a puppet, and kind of knee-jerk responsive person to a government that may or may not call a war in its own best interest.”
The line draws some thunderous applause – providing an interesting rebuttal to those “morning in America” ads that defined Ronald Reagan's successful re-election to the presidency, only two years later – and provides one of the few real meaningful insights to emerge from this particular “Donahue” episode.
However, insights were in short supply around this time. I wound up seeing Decline with a female friend of mine, at the long-defunct Eastown Theater, in Grand Rapids – which meant getting up around 9:30 a.m. (or so), on a Friday, to catch our bus from the GVSU campus. Unlike me, my friend wasn't really into punk, but – like yours truly – always up for an entertaining experience.
We had to catch the first matinee showing, because the last bus hissed back to Grand Valley at 4:30 p.m. This timeline ensured an abbreviated experience, to put it mildly, but we managed.
Back at the GVSU cafeteria, we tried to explain what we'd seen. I brought up Darby's big Magic Marker-clad moment, only to have one of our tablemates tartly dismiss our report with a flick of his sweater-clad collar: “They're just the dregs of society!”
“Excuse me?” I ventured.
The answer didn't change, with each word repeated for emphasis: “They're...just...the dregs of society!”
I gave up trying to explain anymore, and went back to whatever was hanging off my fork.
My mind flashed back to a comment uttered near the end of Phil's televised punk rock run-in: “Why should people have to conform to everything, you know? What's the point about being the same as everybody else?” Looking back, that strikes me as a fair comment about my Eastown experience.
There we sat, my friend and I, among roughly eight to 10 fellow travelers – some looking like hippies or punks, and others, not so much – united, if only temporarily, by our shared desire for an off-the-beaten-track experience.
A guy that everyone knew as Rainbow took our tickets, which allowed us the privilege of staring at a single screen. We felt like the last of a dying breed, huddled together in a 523-seat room that had definitely seen its share of better days.
We wondered where the hell everybody else went, and if something like this might happen again...proof positive, for anyone needing it, that those cynical freewheeling '70s were finally dead and buried.
Not long afterwards, the Eastown closed; from what I gather, it's now home to a church (Uptown Assembly of God). But we still have those memories, along with the music – and that Magic Marker-clad guy frozen on the poster.
As the old cliché goes, “You had to be there.” But, given a choice between seeing Darby go through his paces once more...and another finger-wagging lecture from somebody kitted out in a sweater...I know which experience I'd pick in a heartbeat.
(1/21/12: STOP PRESS! Peter Hook & The Light reviews added to "Gig Notes & Reviews"; Bad Compilation Tapes interview moved to "Band Interviews" section, where JC Carroll and Knox interviews now reside. Whew!
NOW POSTED: "54 Hours In D.C.," which chronicles my whirlwind trip to do a book signing on behalf of UNFINISHED BUSINESS: THE LIFE & TIMES OF DANNY GATTON, which you'll find in the "Danny Gatton Corner" section of this website...enjoy, OK? Today's my birthday, so I'm feeling a little bit expansive. Till then: stay cool.*****)
NOW POSTED: "54 Hours In D.C.," which chronicles my whirlwind trip to do a book signing on behalf of UNFINISHED BUSINESS: THE LIFE & TIMES OF DANNY GATTON, which you'll find in the "Danny Gatton Corner" section of this website...enjoy, OK? Today's my birthday, so I'm feeling a little bit expansive. Till then: stay cool.*****)
PHIL DONAHUE & THE DECLINE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION: PUNKSPLOITATION FOR FUN 'N' PROFIT
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"I KNEW THERE WERE A LOT OF US, FAMOUS AND NOT": HELEN McCOOKERYBOOK REVISITS "THE LOST WOMEN OF ROCK MUSIC" (12/14/11)
Well, here it comes again: another dawn rushing through my apartment window, another candle burned, because I'm pecking away at yet another entry on this website...which means that I may end up revising the odd bits and pieces of this lead-in, once I'm in bed and the cold light of day creeps back across my brain...but I digress.
Today's entry, however, focuses on a book that exerted a major tug on my frontal lobes a couple years back: THE LOST WOMEN OF ROCK MUSIC, an unflinching look at female musicians' roles in the punk and post-punk scenes. In many ways, Helen McCookerybook's original work (under the name Helen Reddington) inspired me to track down some of the figures that you see on these very pages -- people like Viv Albertine and Gaye Black, who have carried on that "up against it" spirit that fired the best music.
At any rate, I read the book in less than a week, because it honestly puts much of what's been written about the genre in the shade -- not least because it corrects the general impression that the original '76-'77 scene amounted to little more than an amphetamine-fueled sausage-fest in 4/4 blurry time. Well, nothing could be wider of the mark, and I think that LOST WOMEN does a fine job of setting the record straight on that score, especially since (as Helen points out below) women are often left out of the officially sanctioned histories of the punk era, even now.
At any rate, when I learned that Helen is preparing to update her book -- due out next spring under a new publisher's banner (Equinox), I got excited, and naturally, I felt compelled to get the full scoop. If you had a hard time finding the original -- and chances are, you did, since I had to get my copy via inter-library loan -- here's another chance to grab ahold of what you missed the first time around.
We start off by delving into the "back story," as they tend to label it on VH1 Classic, and rapidly work our way outward from there.
CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): Tell me how you made the initial transition from playing music, to writing, and what made you devote a whole chapter to the Brighton scene, of which you were such a committed participant?
HELEN McCOOKERYBOOK (HM): I became a musician while I was studying Fine Art at Brighton Polytechnic (now University).
I hated it there, and punk started happening around that time. I was living in a squat and my boyfriend and our friend started a band to play a gig that the guys in the basement of the squat chickened out of. Nobody wanted to play bass guitar so that job was given to me.
I ended up eventually becoming a professional rock artist (although very alternative) and after burning out in the 1980s started working on housing estates as a community musician. All of those projects lost their funding (last recession, last Conservative Government) and I applied for a job lecturing at the University of Westminster. I didn't get it, but I applied again a year later and while I was there, asked for them to fund my PHD, as I could find no books at all that dealt specifically with women like me -- and I knew there were a lot of us, famous and not -- who had started playing rock instruments in punk bands and then stopped.
The Brighton Scene was a typical punk scene- no gender boundaries to speak of -- and since I was part of it I felt that I could use it as a case study.
CR: Obviously, there's a reason why you chose the title that you did: THE LOST WOMEN OF ROCK MUSIC. What were your main goals when you set to write it?
HM: That wasn't my title -- the publisher chose it. I think I found them! The goals were to remind people of what actually happened, not just in punk (because female punks weren't all sexy misses in fishnets and black eyeliner) but also in music (lots of us had important roles as instrumentalists in our bands)
CR: How did you go about choosing the people that you wound up interviewing, and what did you most want your readers to understand about them? How did your own impressions of the subject change as you got deeper into your interviewing and research?
HM: For my original PHD I spoke to lots of women who never became famous (like me). But as I was doing so I realised that history would forget even the better-known ones, and so I wrote more about them for the book version. Some of them contacted me themselves (Poly Styrene, Liz Naylor). Others I already knew (Gina Birch), and others I had to really search for (Lesley Woods, Bethan Peters).
I found it depressing as much as invigorating. For instance, I was shocked about how many of the women I spoke to had been raped: "if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen" seemed to be the attitude of their attackers. On the other hand, there were fantastic stories and the whole pioneering attitude seems to have stayed with them all even to the present day -- for instance, Gina Birch and Viv Albertine have re-emerged as solo artists, Gaye Black runs art exhibitions, and so on.
CR: What is the greatest misconception about the role of women in punk, and postpunk (other than the obvious error, from my viewpoint, of lumping them all together in those 'women in rock" pieces)? Are there any other writers that you'd recommend, if any, who've actually gotten it right?
HM: Caroline Coon writes well about women in punk and so does Lucy O'Brien. You are right that everyone is individual -- Lucy O'Brien played synthesiser in her band, for instance.
The other important thing to remember is that some people just did it for fun, whereas others were much more ambitious and ended up with good careers -- for instance, June Miles-Kingston from the Mo-Dettes who went on to drum for the Funboy Three.
CR: The original edition ended up with an academic publisher (Ashgate): Who's putting out the new one, and how will it build on, or update, from where you left off?
HM: The paperback is coming out on 1st March and is published by Equinox. There are photos in this one -- [including] one of Ari that has never been seen before. New interview material includes Lesley and Jane from the Au Pairs, Bethan from the Delta 5, Viv Albertine from The Slits, Pauline from Penetration, and Poly Styrene. I have tidied it up a bit, corrected some errors and I hope made it a bit more reader-friendly.
CR: On one hand, the explosion of DIY labels and 'zines promised to augur at least a short-lived change of the prevailing equation -- and yet, the impact proved relatively short-lived, once the slicker electropop and commercial pop trends took hold.
How do you feel the position of female musicians change during that transition? (Viv alludes to this, in part two of my own interview with her.) What made things tougher for independent-minded bands as the decade wore on?
HM: Well, John Savage pointed out that the DIY explosion showed the mega-industry just where the weaknesses were and they rushed to plug them. Music became conservative again, emollient: after all, we were at war with Argentina, and we had a powerful woman in charge of the country that many men hated. "Powerful" female musicians didn't stand a chance!
All musicians, whether male or female, are at the mercy of industry gatekeeping. They can make anything into a temporary fashion if they want to. The gatekeepers are almost always male, so even if you get an idea of liberation through music, it's a man's idea of it: hence the Spice Girls!
CR: One aspect that vividly comes across in your book is the adversarial nature of the business to anything truly oppositional -- whether it's "At Home He's A Tourist," or "Come Again," you're only getting so much slack, before hitting that brick wall, and censorship kicks into overdrive.
I'm thinking, in particular, of the Slits manager's comment of "an absolute brick wall going up, because they were girls"...Why is there such a double standard between the perception of male/female musicians as "bad boys", and/or "loose cannons?"
HM: We have to know our place.
CR: Looking back, which bands or performers made the greatest contribution, and who has yet to have their day in the sun? Or is that too simplistic a model to view the whole situation?
HM: The Raincoats and the Slits made dub reggae rules acceptable to new audiences. If you listen to their music compared to that of, say The Clash, you will hear their innovations and Bjork, in particular, owes a lot to them. And X-Ray Spex had the most brilliant subversive pop songs I have ever heard. Fantastic.
CR: What is the legacy of punk, and postpunk, for female musicians, in your view? How did it affect your own outlook as a writer/performer?
HM: It's the refusal to shut up and die, I think, which makes Poly and Ari's deaths so awful. They were both feisty and didn't compromise at all. Both of them had a huge influence on my personal outlook, both before and after I met them. I am not sure that there is a legacy for female punk musicians. they are repeatedly missed out of histories.
Even since writing my book I have refereed an academic article and marked two MAs that have not mentioned them at all (two by women). This is why I believe as many people as possible should write about them from as many perspectives as possible because I stand by my belief that it was a really important cultural moment in history.
CR: In some respects, it could be argued that things have never been worse -- all the nonsense that punk and postpunk aimed to eliminate (repressive governments, staggeringly high unemployment rates, the total lack of passion in most mainstream chart fare) seem stronger and more entrenched than ever.
You've got shows like "Pop Idol" and "X Factor" that promise to create stars, as long as the uber-Svengali behind the curtain calls all the shots. (Well, I suppose Malcolm McLaren would probably have been the most avid viewer, eh? :-)
What chance does an independent-minded nusician, particularly a woman, stand in such a climate...do you believe that some massive '76-style change is around the corner, or are we simply having to settle for purely incremental change in an increasingly narrowcasted climate?
HM: Those programmes have always been around -- "Opportunity Knocks," "New Faces" and so on. They are about something entirely different and I don't think they have much crossover with music making by young people as they are not about songwriting.
Change is happening but not where cultural commentators want it to be -- witness Grime and Dubstep, both from impoverished British black communities and both assimilating , or "selling out" really quickly.
Musical change has a habit of popping up unexpectedly under people's noses and them not seeing it.
The biggest cultural shift as a result of punk was Rock Against Racism, which made racism deeply uncool. Opposition to the behaviour of international corporations might throw up something new in music... or maybe our increasing community of elders will charge out of their bungalows and shock us all with their vehemence!
HELEN'S BLOG LIVES HERE:
http://mccookerybook.blogspot.com/.
Today's entry, however, focuses on a book that exerted a major tug on my frontal lobes a couple years back: THE LOST WOMEN OF ROCK MUSIC, an unflinching look at female musicians' roles in the punk and post-punk scenes. In many ways, Helen McCookerybook's original work (under the name Helen Reddington) inspired me to track down some of the figures that you see on these very pages -- people like Viv Albertine and Gaye Black, who have carried on that "up against it" spirit that fired the best music.
At any rate, I read the book in less than a week, because it honestly puts much of what's been written about the genre in the shade -- not least because it corrects the general impression that the original '76-'77 scene amounted to little more than an amphetamine-fueled sausage-fest in 4/4 blurry time. Well, nothing could be wider of the mark, and I think that LOST WOMEN does a fine job of setting the record straight on that score, especially since (as Helen points out below) women are often left out of the officially sanctioned histories of the punk era, even now.
At any rate, when I learned that Helen is preparing to update her book -- due out next spring under a new publisher's banner (Equinox), I got excited, and naturally, I felt compelled to get the full scoop. If you had a hard time finding the original -- and chances are, you did, since I had to get my copy via inter-library loan -- here's another chance to grab ahold of what you missed the first time around.
We start off by delving into the "back story," as they tend to label it on VH1 Classic, and rapidly work our way outward from there.
CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): Tell me how you made the initial transition from playing music, to writing, and what made you devote a whole chapter to the Brighton scene, of which you were such a committed participant?
HELEN McCOOKERYBOOK (HM): I became a musician while I was studying Fine Art at Brighton Polytechnic (now University).
I hated it there, and punk started happening around that time. I was living in a squat and my boyfriend and our friend started a band to play a gig that the guys in the basement of the squat chickened out of. Nobody wanted to play bass guitar so that job was given to me.
I ended up eventually becoming a professional rock artist (although very alternative) and after burning out in the 1980s started working on housing estates as a community musician. All of those projects lost their funding (last recession, last Conservative Government) and I applied for a job lecturing at the University of Westminster. I didn't get it, but I applied again a year later and while I was there, asked for them to fund my PHD, as I could find no books at all that dealt specifically with women like me -- and I knew there were a lot of us, famous and not -- who had started playing rock instruments in punk bands and then stopped.
The Brighton Scene was a typical punk scene- no gender boundaries to speak of -- and since I was part of it I felt that I could use it as a case study.
CR: Obviously, there's a reason why you chose the title that you did: THE LOST WOMEN OF ROCK MUSIC. What were your main goals when you set to write it?
HM: That wasn't my title -- the publisher chose it. I think I found them! The goals were to remind people of what actually happened, not just in punk (because female punks weren't all sexy misses in fishnets and black eyeliner) but also in music (lots of us had important roles as instrumentalists in our bands)
CR: How did you go about choosing the people that you wound up interviewing, and what did you most want your readers to understand about them? How did your own impressions of the subject change as you got deeper into your interviewing and research?
HM: For my original PHD I spoke to lots of women who never became famous (like me). But as I was doing so I realised that history would forget even the better-known ones, and so I wrote more about them for the book version. Some of them contacted me themselves (Poly Styrene, Liz Naylor). Others I already knew (Gina Birch), and others I had to really search for (Lesley Woods, Bethan Peters).
I found it depressing as much as invigorating. For instance, I was shocked about how many of the women I spoke to had been raped: "if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen" seemed to be the attitude of their attackers. On the other hand, there were fantastic stories and the whole pioneering attitude seems to have stayed with them all even to the present day -- for instance, Gina Birch and Viv Albertine have re-emerged as solo artists, Gaye Black runs art exhibitions, and so on.
CR: What is the greatest misconception about the role of women in punk, and postpunk (other than the obvious error, from my viewpoint, of lumping them all together in those 'women in rock" pieces)? Are there any other writers that you'd recommend, if any, who've actually gotten it right?
HM: Caroline Coon writes well about women in punk and so does Lucy O'Brien. You are right that everyone is individual -- Lucy O'Brien played synthesiser in her band, for instance.
The other important thing to remember is that some people just did it for fun, whereas others were much more ambitious and ended up with good careers -- for instance, June Miles-Kingston from the Mo-Dettes who went on to drum for the Funboy Three.
CR: The original edition ended up with an academic publisher (Ashgate): Who's putting out the new one, and how will it build on, or update, from where you left off?
HM: The paperback is coming out on 1st March and is published by Equinox. There are photos in this one -- [including] one of Ari that has never been seen before. New interview material includes Lesley and Jane from the Au Pairs, Bethan from the Delta 5, Viv Albertine from The Slits, Pauline from Penetration, and Poly Styrene. I have tidied it up a bit, corrected some errors and I hope made it a bit more reader-friendly.
CR: On one hand, the explosion of DIY labels and 'zines promised to augur at least a short-lived change of the prevailing equation -- and yet, the impact proved relatively short-lived, once the slicker electropop and commercial pop trends took hold.
How do you feel the position of female musicians change during that transition? (Viv alludes to this, in part two of my own interview with her.) What made things tougher for independent-minded bands as the decade wore on?
HM: Well, John Savage pointed out that the DIY explosion showed the mega-industry just where the weaknesses were and they rushed to plug them. Music became conservative again, emollient: after all, we were at war with Argentina, and we had a powerful woman in charge of the country that many men hated. "Powerful" female musicians didn't stand a chance!
All musicians, whether male or female, are at the mercy of industry gatekeeping. They can make anything into a temporary fashion if they want to. The gatekeepers are almost always male, so even if you get an idea of liberation through music, it's a man's idea of it: hence the Spice Girls!
CR: One aspect that vividly comes across in your book is the adversarial nature of the business to anything truly oppositional -- whether it's "At Home He's A Tourist," or "Come Again," you're only getting so much slack, before hitting that brick wall, and censorship kicks into overdrive.
I'm thinking, in particular, of the Slits manager's comment of "an absolute brick wall going up, because they were girls"...Why is there such a double standard between the perception of male/female musicians as "bad boys", and/or "loose cannons?"
HM: We have to know our place.
CR: Looking back, which bands or performers made the greatest contribution, and who has yet to have their day in the sun? Or is that too simplistic a model to view the whole situation?
HM: The Raincoats and the Slits made dub reggae rules acceptable to new audiences. If you listen to their music compared to that of, say The Clash, you will hear their innovations and Bjork, in particular, owes a lot to them. And X-Ray Spex had the most brilliant subversive pop songs I have ever heard. Fantastic.
CR: What is the legacy of punk, and postpunk, for female musicians, in your view? How did it affect your own outlook as a writer/performer?
HM: It's the refusal to shut up and die, I think, which makes Poly and Ari's deaths so awful. They were both feisty and didn't compromise at all. Both of them had a huge influence on my personal outlook, both before and after I met them. I am not sure that there is a legacy for female punk musicians. they are repeatedly missed out of histories.
Even since writing my book I have refereed an academic article and marked two MAs that have not mentioned them at all (two by women). This is why I believe as many people as possible should write about them from as many perspectives as possible because I stand by my belief that it was a really important cultural moment in history.
CR: In some respects, it could be argued that things have never been worse -- all the nonsense that punk and postpunk aimed to eliminate (repressive governments, staggeringly high unemployment rates, the total lack of passion in most mainstream chart fare) seem stronger and more entrenched than ever.
You've got shows like "Pop Idol" and "X Factor" that promise to create stars, as long as the uber-Svengali behind the curtain calls all the shots. (Well, I suppose Malcolm McLaren would probably have been the most avid viewer, eh? :-)
What chance does an independent-minded nusician, particularly a woman, stand in such a climate...do you believe that some massive '76-style change is around the corner, or are we simply having to settle for purely incremental change in an increasingly narrowcasted climate?
HM: Those programmes have always been around -- "Opportunity Knocks," "New Faces" and so on. They are about something entirely different and I don't think they have much crossover with music making by young people as they are not about songwriting.
Change is happening but not where cultural commentators want it to be -- witness Grime and Dubstep, both from impoverished British black communities and both assimilating , or "selling out" really quickly.
Musical change has a habit of popping up unexpectedly under people's noses and them not seeing it.
The biggest cultural shift as a result of punk was Rock Against Racism, which made racism deeply uncool. Opposition to the behaviour of international corporations might throw up something new in music... or maybe our increasing community of elders will charge out of their bungalows and shock us all with their vehemence!
HELEN'S BLOG LIVES HERE:
http://mccookerybook.blogspot.com/.
"THE WHOLE THING WAS A REALLY EMOTIONAL RIDE, I TELL YOU": A FEW MORE WORDS WITH JAMES WATKINS, PT. II (11/21/11)
IT MUST BE THE '80S:
THAT (DATED) GATED DRUM SOUND
CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): You guys actually did record original albums...from what I could pick up on [through the press release], a lot of that stuff was almost done against the odds, wasn't it? Because you never really had much support, in the way of major labels, management companies, or anything like that...
JIMMY WATKINS (JW): You're about right on that, yes. One album was on Whalesville Records, which was started by a couple of executives that had just left Atlantic. But they really kind of ruined the record, I thought, because they came in and told us everything we had to do. I won't bore you with all the details – they said, “OK, every song has to be 110 beats per meter.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
They said, “Well, we've done scientific research...that is the exact beat that sells the most records. Every song has to start with the main melody of the chorus, but instrumentally, and then, in 10 seconds, the vocal has to come in. And you can't do any drum rolls or guitar licks that people don't expect, because people don't like to be surprised.” Every neat little thing we did, that was really ours, that we really felt good about – they took all that, totally homogenized it. It wasn't just us. If you think about it, they homogenized all the music at that point.
CR: Well, just that horrible gated drum sound that has dated pretty badly – to name one obvious example, I guess...
JW: Exactly, the gated drum sound, sure.
FAME IS A HARSH MISTRESS (PT. I: THE '80S)
JW: We were tentatively hired for a record contract by United Artists, and we had to go to Miami to meet some bigwig, sign these papers. This was right at the height of the Bon Jovi, Ratt, Poison [era]...all the bands that were young, skinny, long-haired, good-looking.
The guy told me, and I'm not kidding you: “Look, we'll let you guys record the album. I couldn't put you on the cover, 'cause nowadays, the only bands I'm signing are bands that I could find on a teenage girl's wall, on a poster. Now, what I might do is have you guys give us your songs, record them in the studio, with our producers – and we'll send a band of young, skinny, long-haired guys out to do live appearances.”
CR: And you basically said, “Get lost”... [JW laughs] So, after the fourth album comes out in 1990, that's when things wind down, isn't it?
JW: We started hearing people yelling for MC Hammer while we were onstage,“Funky Cold Medina” started to come up on request lists, things like that. I mean, we did the other trends – we did disco when we had to, for maybe a year – but we said, “You know, we're not about to start talking into the microphone with sampled music behind us.” So I, at least, decided to quit.
Frankly, my guitar player and I had been touring together for 16 years. He and his family, even more than himself, depended on me to always take care of him. A couple of years before I quit playing, he met a woman and got married, a wonderful woman he's still with today. And I could see that if I quit, he would still be well taken care of. He's still into playing music today. In fact, he's in a very good band, from what I recall: Bad Mannerz.
FAME IS A HARSH MISTRESS PT. II (THE '90S)
CR: When you look back, what was the best album that you did, and why?
JW: Our last album was the best. Number one, that was the best band we ever had, the best songs we ever wrote, and the best studio we ever recorded in, the Platinum Post. On the schedule board up there, it said, “Al DiMeola, White Summer, and Judas Priest.” I thought, “Oh, boy, this is pretty good company to be in!”
CR: Yeah, I wouldn't argue with that [much laughter at this point]!
JW: Yeah, if anything, the stars seemed really aligned, just perfectly. Before we started recording, editing and mixing that album, I told myself, “If this doesn't work, I'm going to have to quit, and do something else.” Plus, rock 'n' roll was fading a bit, with all this rap, and sampling, and all that...
CR: So, then, you put this album out, and it doesn't work...
JW: Well, it worked, you know, for awhile. It looked like, “Wow, this thing will really take off!” It went like gangbusters, it seemed, for a month or two, and then it just fizzled right out. It was over.
CR: That had to be a kick in the teeth for you, I'm sure...
JW: The whole thing was a really emotional ride, I tell you. The whole thing. But nonetheless, I decided to hang it up. Everybody else but me kept on playing. They just went out and found themselves bands to play with.
WILL THE REAL WHITE SUMMER (...PLEASE STAND UP?)
CR: You mentioned a couple people using the same name, and they've caused you a little bit of a headache, I guess.
JW: I'm not a real big Youtube guy, but somebody called one day – a good friend, he's kind of laughing: “Boy, you guys really sucked when you were young!” I was like, “Well, what do you mean?” He goes, “Yeah, I saw you on Youtube, playing...” He named some Led Zeppelin song.
I thought back, “We've never played that song. What are you talking about?” He told me how to get there, the exact link – these are young kids, 19 years old maybe, [from] Alberta [Canada], or some place. As I looked further, I found one in Australia that was almost the same – young kids. I mean, they weren't bad for their age, but I sure didn't want them representing me, my band, and my band name, you know?
So I wrote to both [bands], asked if they'd please stop using the name – or at least, change it a little bit – and neither one of them even responded.. I talked to a lawyer friend – I don't have money for lawyers, these days – and he said, “If they're in other countries, you have to have an international copyright on the name. Do you have that?” I said, “Well, heck, I don't even know if we do. As far as I know, I've never heard anything about international in relation to our coyprights, which were done nearly 40 years ago.” So, anyway, it's too bad.
LIFE AFTER WHITE SUMMER
CR: What do you actually do for a living?
JW: I write Internet magazine articles for HubPages. I've got 249 articles on HubPages right now, and three books in the pot. One of them is a history of the United States during my lifetime, which is 1955 till today – I'm really into history. That's my favorite subject.
I'm furthest along on a history of the Christian faith, from the time of Jesus, till today. That one has been sent to an editor, so it may end up being first. It wasn't supposed to be, but it looks like it's just further along. The other one is primarily about interrracial dating and marriage, but it also hits on themes of race in America. The problem, in all three cases, is whittling it down, because I don't want to put out a book of over 200 pages, being a first-time author.
CR: I'm surprised you've never thought of writing about your experiences with White Summer...I think that'd be almost a natural thing.
JW: Well, I actually did write that whole story, from day one, all the way through – and a lot of it's really funny. I've got a lot of really funny things that happened over the years with the band, that I wouldn't put in any family newspaper. But I have written the book you're talking about, and I finally shelved it. I thought maybe people wouldn't be that interested. If I get a book out there that enjoys a modicum of success, I'll probably go back to that, once I have some readers.
WHITE SUMMER'S RETURN
JW: We decided, before very long, that every year we'd do a one-night only concert – in Michigan, or Florida – so that in one week, we'd get together and jam, and also, so our good friends and fans can enjoy a night with us, and us with them. I's worked out to about every other year. I think this is the tenth one [reunion show] we've done in 20 years.
We were up here in, I guess it was, '08. Jimmy and I were I in Benton Harbor for Thanksgiving at the same time. We went to Czar's, and jammed with the band that was there. They recognized us and asked if we'd come up and play. So we played a few of their songs.
[Czar's owner] Tom Jennings came right over and said, “Who are you guys? What's the deal here?” We told him , and he'd heard of us. We told him that we still get together, and he said, “Well, if you do any reunion things, I want you to do 'em here.” So we [first] did it [at Czar's] in June '09.
LOOKING BACK: “IT WAS A REAL MOMENT”
CR: What do you think the highlight [of White Summer's career] was, that sums it all up for you?
JW: I'm not sure I can pick a clear winner. Playing for 40,000 people at Indian River Music Festival could easily be the highlight. You dream about playing for a crowd that size; that's a lot of people. Jimmy Schrader played the Jimi Hendrix version of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” That was right in the middle of [Operation] Desert Storm. And when he did, all those people stood up – it was a Sunday afternoon, so they were sitting in the grass. They stood up and put their hands on their hearts, virtually all of them. It was a real moment.
But other than that, when our fourth album got airplay on about 100 radio stations – that was pretty big, too, because we heard it lots of times. And boy, that's an exciting thing, when you're riding in your car, turning on your radio, and it's you! I don't know if I can pick between those two – they're different experiences. One's live, and one's on the radio, but those would probably have to be my two highlights.
THAT (DATED) GATED DRUM SOUND
CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): You guys actually did record original albums...from what I could pick up on [through the press release], a lot of that stuff was almost done against the odds, wasn't it? Because you never really had much support, in the way of major labels, management companies, or anything like that...
JIMMY WATKINS (JW): You're about right on that, yes. One album was on Whalesville Records, which was started by a couple of executives that had just left Atlantic. But they really kind of ruined the record, I thought, because they came in and told us everything we had to do. I won't bore you with all the details – they said, “OK, every song has to be 110 beats per meter.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
They said, “Well, we've done scientific research...that is the exact beat that sells the most records. Every song has to start with the main melody of the chorus, but instrumentally, and then, in 10 seconds, the vocal has to come in. And you can't do any drum rolls or guitar licks that people don't expect, because people don't like to be surprised.” Every neat little thing we did, that was really ours, that we really felt good about – they took all that, totally homogenized it. It wasn't just us. If you think about it, they homogenized all the music at that point.
CR: Well, just that horrible gated drum sound that has dated pretty badly – to name one obvious example, I guess...
JW: Exactly, the gated drum sound, sure.
FAME IS A HARSH MISTRESS (PT. I: THE '80S)
JW: We were tentatively hired for a record contract by United Artists, and we had to go to Miami to meet some bigwig, sign these papers. This was right at the height of the Bon Jovi, Ratt, Poison [era]...all the bands that were young, skinny, long-haired, good-looking.
The guy told me, and I'm not kidding you: “Look, we'll let you guys record the album. I couldn't put you on the cover, 'cause nowadays, the only bands I'm signing are bands that I could find on a teenage girl's wall, on a poster. Now, what I might do is have you guys give us your songs, record them in the studio, with our producers – and we'll send a band of young, skinny, long-haired guys out to do live appearances.”
CR: And you basically said, “Get lost”... [JW laughs] So, after the fourth album comes out in 1990, that's when things wind down, isn't it?
JW: We started hearing people yelling for MC Hammer while we were onstage,“Funky Cold Medina” started to come up on request lists, things like that. I mean, we did the other trends – we did disco when we had to, for maybe a year – but we said, “You know, we're not about to start talking into the microphone with sampled music behind us.” So I, at least, decided to quit.
Frankly, my guitar player and I had been touring together for 16 years. He and his family, even more than himself, depended on me to always take care of him. A couple of years before I quit playing, he met a woman and got married, a wonderful woman he's still with today. And I could see that if I quit, he would still be well taken care of. He's still into playing music today. In fact, he's in a very good band, from what I recall: Bad Mannerz.
FAME IS A HARSH MISTRESS PT. II (THE '90S)
CR: When you look back, what was the best album that you did, and why?
JW: Our last album was the best. Number one, that was the best band we ever had, the best songs we ever wrote, and the best studio we ever recorded in, the Platinum Post. On the schedule board up there, it said, “Al DiMeola, White Summer, and Judas Priest.” I thought, “Oh, boy, this is pretty good company to be in!”
CR: Yeah, I wouldn't argue with that [much laughter at this point]!
JW: Yeah, if anything, the stars seemed really aligned, just perfectly. Before we started recording, editing and mixing that album, I told myself, “If this doesn't work, I'm going to have to quit, and do something else.” Plus, rock 'n' roll was fading a bit, with all this rap, and sampling, and all that...
CR: So, then, you put this album out, and it doesn't work...
JW: Well, it worked, you know, for awhile. It looked like, “Wow, this thing will really take off!” It went like gangbusters, it seemed, for a month or two, and then it just fizzled right out. It was over.
CR: That had to be a kick in the teeth for you, I'm sure...
JW: The whole thing was a really emotional ride, I tell you. The whole thing. But nonetheless, I decided to hang it up. Everybody else but me kept on playing. They just went out and found themselves bands to play with.
WILL THE REAL WHITE SUMMER (...PLEASE STAND UP?)
CR: You mentioned a couple people using the same name, and they've caused you a little bit of a headache, I guess.
JW: I'm not a real big Youtube guy, but somebody called one day – a good friend, he's kind of laughing: “Boy, you guys really sucked when you were young!” I was like, “Well, what do you mean?” He goes, “Yeah, I saw you on Youtube, playing...” He named some Led Zeppelin song.
I thought back, “We've never played that song. What are you talking about?” He told me how to get there, the exact link – these are young kids, 19 years old maybe, [from] Alberta [Canada], or some place. As I looked further, I found one in Australia that was almost the same – young kids. I mean, they weren't bad for their age, but I sure didn't want them representing me, my band, and my band name, you know?
So I wrote to both [bands], asked if they'd please stop using the name – or at least, change it a little bit – and neither one of them even responded.. I talked to a lawyer friend – I don't have money for lawyers, these days – and he said, “If they're in other countries, you have to have an international copyright on the name. Do you have that?” I said, “Well, heck, I don't even know if we do. As far as I know, I've never heard anything about international in relation to our coyprights, which were done nearly 40 years ago.” So, anyway, it's too bad.
LIFE AFTER WHITE SUMMER
CR: What do you actually do for a living?
JW: I write Internet magazine articles for HubPages. I've got 249 articles on HubPages right now, and three books in the pot. One of them is a history of the United States during my lifetime, which is 1955 till today – I'm really into history. That's my favorite subject.
I'm furthest along on a history of the Christian faith, from the time of Jesus, till today. That one has been sent to an editor, so it may end up being first. It wasn't supposed to be, but it looks like it's just further along. The other one is primarily about interrracial dating and marriage, but it also hits on themes of race in America. The problem, in all three cases, is whittling it down, because I don't want to put out a book of over 200 pages, being a first-time author.
CR: I'm surprised you've never thought of writing about your experiences with White Summer...I think that'd be almost a natural thing.
JW: Well, I actually did write that whole story, from day one, all the way through – and a lot of it's really funny. I've got a lot of really funny things that happened over the years with the band, that I wouldn't put in any family newspaper. But I have written the book you're talking about, and I finally shelved it. I thought maybe people wouldn't be that interested. If I get a book out there that enjoys a modicum of success, I'll probably go back to that, once I have some readers.
WHITE SUMMER'S RETURN
JW: We decided, before very long, that every year we'd do a one-night only concert – in Michigan, or Florida – so that in one week, we'd get together and jam, and also, so our good friends and fans can enjoy a night with us, and us with them. I's worked out to about every other year. I think this is the tenth one [reunion show] we've done in 20 years.
We were up here in, I guess it was, '08. Jimmy and I were I in Benton Harbor for Thanksgiving at the same time. We went to Czar's, and jammed with the band that was there. They recognized us and asked if we'd come up and play. So we played a few of their songs.
[Czar's owner] Tom Jennings came right over and said, “Who are you guys? What's the deal here?” We told him , and he'd heard of us. We told him that we still get together, and he said, “Well, if you do any reunion things, I want you to do 'em here.” So we [first] did it [at Czar's] in June '09.
LOOKING BACK: “IT WAS A REAL MOMENT”
CR: What do you think the highlight [of White Summer's career] was, that sums it all up for you?
JW: I'm not sure I can pick a clear winner. Playing for 40,000 people at Indian River Music Festival could easily be the highlight. You dream about playing for a crowd that size; that's a lot of people. Jimmy Schrader played the Jimi Hendrix version of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” That was right in the middle of [Operation] Desert Storm. And when he did, all those people stood up – it was a Sunday afternoon, so they were sitting in the grass. They stood up and put their hands on their hearts, virtually all of them. It was a real moment.
But other than that, when our fourth album got airplay on about 100 radio stations – that was pretty big, too, because we heard it lots of times. And boy, that's an exciting thing, when you're riding in your car, turning on your radio, and it's you! I don't know if I can pick between those two – they're different experiences. One's live, and one's on the radio, but those would probably have to be my two highlights.
"HE LIVED IN A WORLD OF SOUND": A FEW MORE WORDS WITH JAMES WATKINS, PT. I (11/21/11)
In any phone interview, there's always a few elements bound to hit the cutting room floor...and my chat with White Summer's longtime drummer, James Watkins, was no exception. Now that the dust has settled on my
original writeup of the reunion show, here's a glimpse of what else we talked about during those 45 minutes...in this installment, we look at White Summer's beginnings and philosophy as it roared through the '70s. For additional information, please scroll down further below to James's press release.
THE ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS
JAMES WATKINS (JW): We've got a band, in certain circles, that is very well-known in this area for a long, long time. There's only three of us. We have a terrific bass player [in Randy Brown] from Saginaw, MI, who toured with the band for about five years – and then myself, and Jimmy Schrader. We're both from Benton Harbor originally, although we don't live there now.
There's no question that the blind guitar player [Schrader] is the star of the show. There's no doubt about that. It's not that the whole band is not good, but the guy is just jaw-droppingly fantastic on the guitar. The thing was, he couldn't find a band – because everybody was like, “Well, I'd have to lead the guy around to the bathroom, or on the road...”
But when I heard that boy play in his basement, within less a minute, I said, “You know what? I'll lead you anywhere you need to go, buddy.” And I'm telling you, I've seen all the greats live – Jeff Beck, [Eric] Clapton, Al DiMeloa – and this guy is every bit as good any of 'em. He never made it to the big time, that's true, but a lot of that's luck, as I'm sure you know.
CR: Or, as I like to joke: if you're making a Sweet/glam rock [style] album at the height of disco, don't expect as many people to return your calls.
JW [laughs]: That's exactly it, that's what I'm saying – we had an ugly band during the pretty band days, and a pretty band during the ugly band days! We never could quite get the timing right.
PLAYING LIVE: “HE LIVED IN A WORLD OF SOUND”
CR: At the time you started, what was your original goal, once you found that synchronicity with Jimmy onstage?
JW: Since he was blind, he lived in a world of sound. And I started closing my eyes when I played, which I hadn't done before I met him. But I started closing my eyes when I played, and strictly go into a world of sound only, the world he's in – and we eventually developed such a communication. We did a lot of ad libs, a lot of improvisation. But I always knew what he was gonna do, and he always knew what I was gonna do, after a couple years. This really is a magical thing, when that develops.
CR: Very much so. Well, one of the things I've been listening to a lot lately, is LIVE AT LEEDS – and, of course, that's what that album's all about. So I imagine you were getting pretty much to that level, every night.
JW: Yeah, sure! Well, we wanted to make music. We wanted to write songs, wanted to be artists, and – of course – wanted to make a living doing it, so we wouldn't have to do anything else. That's what our goal was, right there.
CR: In the grand scheme of things, we didn't quite get there – and yet, you succeeded, because we do still talk about you guys, after all this time.
JW: It's strange, 'cause if you look at it from one side of the coin, we were a huge flop. But on the other side of the coin, we were pretty successful, more successful than any other band from around my area, Southwestern Michigan. It's really kind to figure what to make of it, even today.
BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS (...AT THE HOUSE OF DAVID)
CR: I imagine that [playing at the House of David Beer Garden] was an interesting time for you, too.
JW: There was no music at the House of David for a long time. I don't know how many years, but it was quite awhile. And I met a friend, one of my best friends, actually. A friend of his cousin was an ascendant of the House of David, and he took me over there to meet a guy who'd been a bandleader.
He was, like, ninetysomething years old, a real nice old fella...sat down and played the piano for me. And I got to telling him, “We'd like to have some rock 'n' roll shows at the House of David” – because I'd only loved the place since I was a little boy. My dad used to take me there. Anyway, he said, “Well, you know, I like you. You can do anything you want there.”
We put on Blood, Sweat & Tears there, September 2, 1977, and we were the warmup act. I think they played one of their hits first, “Spinning Wheel,” and [for] their second song, they played a 20-minute, slow, jazzy tune. They were great musicians, but it seemed like an odd choice, you know? We just warmed them up with some pretty hard-driving rock 'n' roll – not heavy metal, but pretty hard-driving rock 'n' roll – and the crowd started chanting, “White Summer, White Summer!”
I'll tell you, I was embarrassed by it. I had nothing to do with it, but he [Blood, Sweat & Tears lead singer David Clayton-Thomas] got mad, stomped off, and went down to the dressing rooms – which, if I remember right, were below the stage – and it was heck coaxing him back out there. But he finally did get back out, and resume the show. It took awhile. He was really mad about that, because we were nobody, we were just a local act. So it was an insult to him, with three platinum albums on the wall. I could understand his feelings about it, but...
CR: Hey, that's showbiz, right?
JW [laughs]: Yeah, I guess!
E.C. WAS HERE (...AND SO WAS NEIL)
CR: So, how come, when Eric Clapton said, “This is the best band I've ever seen in a bar”...did any of you ever start clearing your throat: “Hey, Eric, we've got some [open dates]...”
JW [laughs]: Well, you know, I'll tell you what happened: he was surrounded by about 50 people, I think. All I know is, I got offstage, and I saw a mob of people in a circle, or a semi-circle, over near the bar – and I asked somebody, “What's going on over there?”
They said, “Eric Clapton's over there!” I said, “No, he's not!” They said, “Yes, he is! He's sitting over there at the bar.” So I waded my way through all the people, pushed 'em aside, got there to him – and he said, “Oh, you're the drummer?” I said, “Yeah.” And that's when he said what he said [“This is the best band I have ever seen in a bar!”]. Then he said, “Can I come back tomorrow night, and jam with you guys?” “Geez, of course!”
CR: Wow! “Oh, I think we can manage that...”
JW: So that night, I called my mom, my brother, my sisters, my aunts, my uncles, my nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, acquaintances, and probably even a few strangers, to say: “Tomorrow night, Eric Clapton's coming down to sit in with us!” And he didn't show up [much laughter at this point].
CR: What was the encounter with Neil Young like, by contrast?
JW: Well, that was a lot different, and I'll tell you why. Neil Young's mother lived in New Smyrna Beach [FL], and she was on her deathbed. So he came to New Smyrna Beach, which is 15 miles south of Daytona. Not much of a tourist area – it's kind of an area for locals. Very nice, though, beautiful, on the ocean.
Anyway, his mom's dying, and he's here for that – so he's not in the greatest of moods – and the place wasn't that big, either. He was sitting right in front of me, about 15 feet away. This time, I didn't have to ask what was going on, 'cause he was right there, and no one was bothering him. So he was just like another dude sitting at the club, and I sat the whole break with him.
He told me what was going on, and by golly, he sat through whole 'nother set! He got up to leave, right as we finished the second set – and that's when he said, “You know, I gotta tell you, I've never sat and listened to another band play this long.” And I was like, “Wow! That's a great thing to say.”
CR: That almost made you feel like a made guy, didn't it? High praise, indeed.
JW [laughs}: Yeah, it was. It really was, yeah.
OUT OF THE '70s (INTO THE '80s)
CR: And then, of course, you end up having to leave Southwest Michigan, because the drinking age goes up, disco comes in – you're kind of getting hit from all directions, basically...
JW: Of course, Michigan was part of the Rust Belt. It was really slowing down, and Florida was just starting its real boom time, particularly Orlando. Orlando went from a town of 40,000 people to what it is today, two million people. So it's booming, this place is dying, and the drinking age is still 18 down there. We had instantaneous gigs, where we'd just pack up and go. So we did.
THE WHITE SUMMER REUNION CONCERT AT CZAR'S (By James Watkins)
The White Summer band will come together to perform a reunion concert at Czar's, downtown St Joseph, Michigan, November 25 at 10:00pm. White Summer has produced five albums of original material, but they are most famous for their thousands of live appearances that never fail to generate tremendous excitement and large crowds. The many hardcore fans of the band are affectionately called "Whiteheads," and some have been known to travel 1,000 miles to see White Summer.
The story of the White Summer band begins in 1973. The group was formed as a power trio of eighteen-year-olds from Benton Harbor: Jim Watkins (drums and vocals); Rick Lowe (guitar and vocals); and David Wheeler (bass guitar). The boys had been close friends since the sixth grade, when they attended Pearl School together. Early influences included The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, and home-state favorites Grand Funk Railroad. The name of the band comes from a Mayan Indian term, the White Summer plateau, which means the highest level of human consciousness.
The band's first bar gig was at Babe's Lounge. They also put on many shows at high school dances, outdoor festivals, and nightclubs. White Summer performed many times at the old Shadowland Ballroom, and were one of the last bands to play that hallowed venue.
White Summer released their first album in January, 1976 -- the White Album. WIRX played the record in its entirety several times. Les Paul was in the control room during one of the recording sessions at Sound Machine Studios in Kalamazoo and praised the boys' sound.
White Summer was the last band to ever play the House of David Beer Gardens. In 1977, the band performed on that fabled stage in front of 5,000 fans as the opening act for Blood, Sweat and Tears. When the crowd began chanting "White Summer" during a long instrumental song by BS&T, singer David Clayton Thomas marched off the stage in anger. It would be twenty minutes before he could be coaxed into continuing the concert.
In the mid-1970s, there were perhaps fifty clubs that featured live rock bands in Berrien County. But the drinking age in Michigan was raised from 18 to 21, and that combined with the Disco fad killed the live music scene. In 1979, White Summer moved to Ann Arbor before relocating to Florida one year later.
White Summer went on to become one of the top rock acts in Florida. The group traveled around in its signature big white bus and by the end of the 1980s became famous for its classic rock shows, especially in Orlando, Tampa, Miami, and in the Florida Keys. By the end of that decade, White Summer featured a repertoire of 1,000 songs and was known as the "All Request Band," meaning the audience was challenged to try to "stump the band."
White Summer opened for many top rock acts, from the Buckinghams to Black Oak Arkansas. The band developed a reputation as a "Musician's Band"—more musicians would come to see them perform than any other group. Eric Clapton caught a set at Sloppy Joe's in Key West and exclaimed, "This is the best band I have ever seen in a bar!" Neil Young saw two sets in New Smyrna Beach and said, "This is the longest I ever sat and listened to a band."
White Summer performed at Walt Disney World and played for two months at the Hard Rock Cafe in Cancun, Mexico. In 1990, White Summer won a Jammy Award as "Best Classic Rock Band," while Jim Watkins won the award for "Best Classic Rock Vocalist." In 1991, White Summer appeared in front of its biggest crowd ever—25,000 souls—at the Indian River Music festival with Don Henley, Michael McDonald, and Arlo Guthrie. A major music magazine called White Summer's set "the highlight of the day."
White Summer never neglected its Michigan roots. The band did a two year tour of its home state in the 1980s that covered a Michigan map with pins for the cities they had played. Three times the group returned to Southwest Michigan. One of their most memorable performances came at the 1988 Venetian Festival when they played in front of 5,000 people directly on Silver Beach.
In 1984 White Summer returned to play at Chief's Bar in Millburg. That gig started out as a joke as the drummer's sister lived in Millburg and used to dare him to bring White Summer to Millburg. Chief's built an addition for White Summer to accommodate its fans. The group became the house band at the Ramada Inn in Benton Harbor for six months in 1987, during which time it occupied one entire floor of the hotel—24 rooms. In 1989, White Summer lived and played at the Sweet Cherry Resort for six months.
The 1982 White Summer Red Album drew the attention of Warner Brothers. During negotiations for a record contract, one of the three band members—Danny Misch from Chesterton, Indiana—suddenly left the band for personal reasons. That was the end of that.
In 1984, White Summer recorded the Dreams Come True album in Detroit at the old Motown Studios. That record received airplay on over 100 radio stations. The band was nearly signed by United Artists, but the deal was squelched at the last minute by a top executive who didn't like the way the band looked. He said, "If I close my eyes, White Summer sounds as good as any band in the world." This was during the big-hair-band days. Video killed the radio star.
The last White Summer album was recorded in 1990 at the Platinum Post Studios in Orlando, in between sessions by Al Di Meola and Judas Priest. There are many videos of White Summer's music on YouTube but one has to be careful as two other groups are on YouTube that have stolen the name. Both are young kids, one group from Canada and one from Australia. They have been asked to cease and desist using the name "White Summer" but have ignored these requests.
White Summer has featured many different lineups over the years. The constants have been drummer/singer Jim Watkins (since 1973) and virtuoso guitarist Jimmy Schrader (since 1976). Two former members, Jeff Aldrich and Ron Rutkowski, are deceased.
Jimmy Schrader was born sightless in Benton Harbor and attended the Michigan School for the Blind in Lansing. Jim Watkins needed a guitar player in 1976 and a fellow musician told him about Schrader. He said, "I know a fantastic guitar player but he is having a hard time finding a band. He was born blind, and refuses to use a cane or a guide dog. So, if you hire him, you will have to lead him around everywhere you want to go and everywhere he needs to go." Watkins went to hear Schrader play his 1957 Fender Stratocaster by himself in his basement through a double-stacked 200 watt Marshall—turned wide open (on 10). It was as loud as a freight train. Within one minute Watkins knew that Schrader was his man.
For a long time, Jimmy Schrader was simply called "the blind man" by rock music fans, and White Summer "the band with the blind guitar player." But by the mid-1980s, Schrader had been given a new appellation: The King -- as in the king of guitar. He is truly the star of the show and a world-class guitarist.
For five years in the 1980s, bass player Randy Brown from Saginaw toured with White Summer. He is such a powerful player that his nickname is "The Jimmy Schrader of Bass Players." No higher compliment could be given. Brown had previously toured the world as a trumpet player in a jazz-rock group.
White Summer disbanded after 1991. Jim Watkins retired from the music business and got a real job. Today he writes internet magazine articles on HubPages. Jimmy Schrader never stopped playing and today is in a top-notch Florida band called Bad Mannerz. Randy Brown lives in Vero Beach, Florida, and plays in his church and occasionally in other venues.
Since 1991, the White Summer band has come together every other year to do a one-night-only Reunion Concert, either in Florida or in Michigan. The lineup for these shows is always Jim Watkins, Jimmy Schrader, and Randy Brown. Adam Watkins—Jim's son—plays a set on the drums while Jim goes out front to sing. The last such show enthralled a jam-packed house at Czar's in June, 2009. The "Whiteheads" are getting ready for the sets that will be all classic rock—Jimi Hendrix, ZZ Top, Robin Trower, Montrose, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, and Stevie Ray Vaughn (and others). A White Summer show is always a party. Be there!
original writeup of the reunion show, here's a glimpse of what else we talked about during those 45 minutes...in this installment, we look at White Summer's beginnings and philosophy as it roared through the '70s. For additional information, please scroll down further below to James's press release.
THE ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS
JAMES WATKINS (JW): We've got a band, in certain circles, that is very well-known in this area for a long, long time. There's only three of us. We have a terrific bass player [in Randy Brown] from Saginaw, MI, who toured with the band for about five years – and then myself, and Jimmy Schrader. We're both from Benton Harbor originally, although we don't live there now.
There's no question that the blind guitar player [Schrader] is the star of the show. There's no doubt about that. It's not that the whole band is not good, but the guy is just jaw-droppingly fantastic on the guitar. The thing was, he couldn't find a band – because everybody was like, “Well, I'd have to lead the guy around to the bathroom, or on the road...”
But when I heard that boy play in his basement, within less a minute, I said, “You know what? I'll lead you anywhere you need to go, buddy.” And I'm telling you, I've seen all the greats live – Jeff Beck, [Eric] Clapton, Al DiMeloa – and this guy is every bit as good any of 'em. He never made it to the big time, that's true, but a lot of that's luck, as I'm sure you know.
CR: Or, as I like to joke: if you're making a Sweet/glam rock [style] album at the height of disco, don't expect as many people to return your calls.
JW [laughs]: That's exactly it, that's what I'm saying – we had an ugly band during the pretty band days, and a pretty band during the ugly band days! We never could quite get the timing right.
PLAYING LIVE: “HE LIVED IN A WORLD OF SOUND”
CR: At the time you started, what was your original goal, once you found that synchronicity with Jimmy onstage?
JW: Since he was blind, he lived in a world of sound. And I started closing my eyes when I played, which I hadn't done before I met him. But I started closing my eyes when I played, and strictly go into a world of sound only, the world he's in – and we eventually developed such a communication. We did a lot of ad libs, a lot of improvisation. But I always knew what he was gonna do, and he always knew what I was gonna do, after a couple years. This really is a magical thing, when that develops.
CR: Very much so. Well, one of the things I've been listening to a lot lately, is LIVE AT LEEDS – and, of course, that's what that album's all about. So I imagine you were getting pretty much to that level, every night.
JW: Yeah, sure! Well, we wanted to make music. We wanted to write songs, wanted to be artists, and – of course – wanted to make a living doing it, so we wouldn't have to do anything else. That's what our goal was, right there.
CR: In the grand scheme of things, we didn't quite get there – and yet, you succeeded, because we do still talk about you guys, after all this time.
JW: It's strange, 'cause if you look at it from one side of the coin, we were a huge flop. But on the other side of the coin, we were pretty successful, more successful than any other band from around my area, Southwestern Michigan. It's really kind to figure what to make of it, even today.
BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS (...AT THE HOUSE OF DAVID)
CR: I imagine that [playing at the House of David Beer Garden] was an interesting time for you, too.
JW: There was no music at the House of David for a long time. I don't know how many years, but it was quite awhile. And I met a friend, one of my best friends, actually. A friend of his cousin was an ascendant of the House of David, and he took me over there to meet a guy who'd been a bandleader.
He was, like, ninetysomething years old, a real nice old fella...sat down and played the piano for me. And I got to telling him, “We'd like to have some rock 'n' roll shows at the House of David” – because I'd only loved the place since I was a little boy. My dad used to take me there. Anyway, he said, “Well, you know, I like you. You can do anything you want there.”
We put on Blood, Sweat & Tears there, September 2, 1977, and we were the warmup act. I think they played one of their hits first, “Spinning Wheel,” and [for] their second song, they played a 20-minute, slow, jazzy tune. They were great musicians, but it seemed like an odd choice, you know? We just warmed them up with some pretty hard-driving rock 'n' roll – not heavy metal, but pretty hard-driving rock 'n' roll – and the crowd started chanting, “White Summer, White Summer!”
I'll tell you, I was embarrassed by it. I had nothing to do with it, but he [Blood, Sweat & Tears lead singer David Clayton-Thomas] got mad, stomped off, and went down to the dressing rooms – which, if I remember right, were below the stage – and it was heck coaxing him back out there. But he finally did get back out, and resume the show. It took awhile. He was really mad about that, because we were nobody, we were just a local act. So it was an insult to him, with three platinum albums on the wall. I could understand his feelings about it, but...
CR: Hey, that's showbiz, right?
JW [laughs]: Yeah, I guess!
E.C. WAS HERE (...AND SO WAS NEIL)
CR: So, how come, when Eric Clapton said, “This is the best band I've ever seen in a bar”...did any of you ever start clearing your throat: “Hey, Eric, we've got some [open dates]...”
JW [laughs]: Well, you know, I'll tell you what happened: he was surrounded by about 50 people, I think. All I know is, I got offstage, and I saw a mob of people in a circle, or a semi-circle, over near the bar – and I asked somebody, “What's going on over there?”
They said, “Eric Clapton's over there!” I said, “No, he's not!” They said, “Yes, he is! He's sitting over there at the bar.” So I waded my way through all the people, pushed 'em aside, got there to him – and he said, “Oh, you're the drummer?” I said, “Yeah.” And that's when he said what he said [“This is the best band I have ever seen in a bar!”]. Then he said, “Can I come back tomorrow night, and jam with you guys?” “Geez, of course!”
CR: Wow! “Oh, I think we can manage that...”
JW: So that night, I called my mom, my brother, my sisters, my aunts, my uncles, my nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, acquaintances, and probably even a few strangers, to say: “Tomorrow night, Eric Clapton's coming down to sit in with us!” And he didn't show up [much laughter at this point].
CR: What was the encounter with Neil Young like, by contrast?
JW: Well, that was a lot different, and I'll tell you why. Neil Young's mother lived in New Smyrna Beach [FL], and she was on her deathbed. So he came to New Smyrna Beach, which is 15 miles south of Daytona. Not much of a tourist area – it's kind of an area for locals. Very nice, though, beautiful, on the ocean.
Anyway, his mom's dying, and he's here for that – so he's not in the greatest of moods – and the place wasn't that big, either. He was sitting right in front of me, about 15 feet away. This time, I didn't have to ask what was going on, 'cause he was right there, and no one was bothering him. So he was just like another dude sitting at the club, and I sat the whole break with him.
He told me what was going on, and by golly, he sat through whole 'nother set! He got up to leave, right as we finished the second set – and that's when he said, “You know, I gotta tell you, I've never sat and listened to another band play this long.” And I was like, “Wow! That's a great thing to say.”
CR: That almost made you feel like a made guy, didn't it? High praise, indeed.
JW [laughs}: Yeah, it was. It really was, yeah.
OUT OF THE '70s (INTO THE '80s)
CR: And then, of course, you end up having to leave Southwest Michigan, because the drinking age goes up, disco comes in – you're kind of getting hit from all directions, basically...
JW: Of course, Michigan was part of the Rust Belt. It was really slowing down, and Florida was just starting its real boom time, particularly Orlando. Orlando went from a town of 40,000 people to what it is today, two million people. So it's booming, this place is dying, and the drinking age is still 18 down there. We had instantaneous gigs, where we'd just pack up and go. So we did.
THE WHITE SUMMER REUNION CONCERT AT CZAR'S (By James Watkins)
The White Summer band will come together to perform a reunion concert at Czar's, downtown St Joseph, Michigan, November 25 at 10:00pm. White Summer has produced five albums of original material, but they are most famous for their thousands of live appearances that never fail to generate tremendous excitement and large crowds. The many hardcore fans of the band are affectionately called "Whiteheads," and some have been known to travel 1,000 miles to see White Summer.
The story of the White Summer band begins in 1973. The group was formed as a power trio of eighteen-year-olds from Benton Harbor: Jim Watkins (drums and vocals); Rick Lowe (guitar and vocals); and David Wheeler (bass guitar). The boys had been close friends since the sixth grade, when they attended Pearl School together. Early influences included The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, and home-state favorites Grand Funk Railroad. The name of the band comes from a Mayan Indian term, the White Summer plateau, which means the highest level of human consciousness.
The band's first bar gig was at Babe's Lounge. They also put on many shows at high school dances, outdoor festivals, and nightclubs. White Summer performed many times at the old Shadowland Ballroom, and were one of the last bands to play that hallowed venue.
White Summer released their first album in January, 1976 -- the White Album. WIRX played the record in its entirety several times. Les Paul was in the control room during one of the recording sessions at Sound Machine Studios in Kalamazoo and praised the boys' sound.
White Summer was the last band to ever play the House of David Beer Gardens. In 1977, the band performed on that fabled stage in front of 5,000 fans as the opening act for Blood, Sweat and Tears. When the crowd began chanting "White Summer" during a long instrumental song by BS&T, singer David Clayton Thomas marched off the stage in anger. It would be twenty minutes before he could be coaxed into continuing the concert.
In the mid-1970s, there were perhaps fifty clubs that featured live rock bands in Berrien County. But the drinking age in Michigan was raised from 18 to 21, and that combined with the Disco fad killed the live music scene. In 1979, White Summer moved to Ann Arbor before relocating to Florida one year later.
White Summer went on to become one of the top rock acts in Florida. The group traveled around in its signature big white bus and by the end of the 1980s became famous for its classic rock shows, especially in Orlando, Tampa, Miami, and in the Florida Keys. By the end of that decade, White Summer featured a repertoire of 1,000 songs and was known as the "All Request Band," meaning the audience was challenged to try to "stump the band."
White Summer opened for many top rock acts, from the Buckinghams to Black Oak Arkansas. The band developed a reputation as a "Musician's Band"—more musicians would come to see them perform than any other group. Eric Clapton caught a set at Sloppy Joe's in Key West and exclaimed, "This is the best band I have ever seen in a bar!" Neil Young saw two sets in New Smyrna Beach and said, "This is the longest I ever sat and listened to a band."
White Summer performed at Walt Disney World and played for two months at the Hard Rock Cafe in Cancun, Mexico. In 1990, White Summer won a Jammy Award as "Best Classic Rock Band," while Jim Watkins won the award for "Best Classic Rock Vocalist." In 1991, White Summer appeared in front of its biggest crowd ever—25,000 souls—at the Indian River Music festival with Don Henley, Michael McDonald, and Arlo Guthrie. A major music magazine called White Summer's set "the highlight of the day."
White Summer never neglected its Michigan roots. The band did a two year tour of its home state in the 1980s that covered a Michigan map with pins for the cities they had played. Three times the group returned to Southwest Michigan. One of their most memorable performances came at the 1988 Venetian Festival when they played in front of 5,000 people directly on Silver Beach.
In 1984 White Summer returned to play at Chief's Bar in Millburg. That gig started out as a joke as the drummer's sister lived in Millburg and used to dare him to bring White Summer to Millburg. Chief's built an addition for White Summer to accommodate its fans. The group became the house band at the Ramada Inn in Benton Harbor for six months in 1987, during which time it occupied one entire floor of the hotel—24 rooms. In 1989, White Summer lived and played at the Sweet Cherry Resort for six months.
The 1982 White Summer Red Album drew the attention of Warner Brothers. During negotiations for a record contract, one of the three band members—Danny Misch from Chesterton, Indiana—suddenly left the band for personal reasons. That was the end of that.
In 1984, White Summer recorded the Dreams Come True album in Detroit at the old Motown Studios. That record received airplay on over 100 radio stations. The band was nearly signed by United Artists, but the deal was squelched at the last minute by a top executive who didn't like the way the band looked. He said, "If I close my eyes, White Summer sounds as good as any band in the world." This was during the big-hair-band days. Video killed the radio star.
The last White Summer album was recorded in 1990 at the Platinum Post Studios in Orlando, in between sessions by Al Di Meola and Judas Priest. There are many videos of White Summer's music on YouTube but one has to be careful as two other groups are on YouTube that have stolen the name. Both are young kids, one group from Canada and one from Australia. They have been asked to cease and desist using the name "White Summer" but have ignored these requests.
White Summer has featured many different lineups over the years. The constants have been drummer/singer Jim Watkins (since 1973) and virtuoso guitarist Jimmy Schrader (since 1976). Two former members, Jeff Aldrich and Ron Rutkowski, are deceased.
Jimmy Schrader was born sightless in Benton Harbor and attended the Michigan School for the Blind in Lansing. Jim Watkins needed a guitar player in 1976 and a fellow musician told him about Schrader. He said, "I know a fantastic guitar player but he is having a hard time finding a band. He was born blind, and refuses to use a cane or a guide dog. So, if you hire him, you will have to lead him around everywhere you want to go and everywhere he needs to go." Watkins went to hear Schrader play his 1957 Fender Stratocaster by himself in his basement through a double-stacked 200 watt Marshall—turned wide open (on 10). It was as loud as a freight train. Within one minute Watkins knew that Schrader was his man.
For a long time, Jimmy Schrader was simply called "the blind man" by rock music fans, and White Summer "the band with the blind guitar player." But by the mid-1980s, Schrader had been given a new appellation: The King -- as in the king of guitar. He is truly the star of the show and a world-class guitarist.
For five years in the 1980s, bass player Randy Brown from Saginaw toured with White Summer. He is such a powerful player that his nickname is "The Jimmy Schrader of Bass Players." No higher compliment could be given. Brown had previously toured the world as a trumpet player in a jazz-rock group.
White Summer disbanded after 1991. Jim Watkins retired from the music business and got a real job. Today he writes internet magazine articles on HubPages. Jimmy Schrader never stopped playing and today is in a top-notch Florida band called Bad Mannerz. Randy Brown lives in Vero Beach, Florida, and plays in his church and occasionally in other venues.
Since 1991, the White Summer band has come together every other year to do a one-night-only Reunion Concert, either in Florida or in Michigan. The lineup for these shows is always Jim Watkins, Jimmy Schrader, and Randy Brown. Adam Watkins—Jim's son—plays a set on the drums while Jim goes out front to sing. The last such show enthralled a jam-packed house at Czar's in June, 2009. The "Whiteheads" are getting ready for the sets that will be all classic rock—Jimi Hendrix, ZZ Top, Robin Trower, Montrose, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, and Stevie Ray Vaughn (and others). A White Summer show is always a party. Be there!
WHITE SUMMER REUNION AT CZAR'S 505 (11/25/11): "A NICE DAY TO...START AGAIN"
Band reunions are dicey propositions, as any music fanatic is keenly aware. The problem, as I joke, is being asked to go home again...when you were 16, and you didn't have to face any of life's ugly little responsibilities yet...only some yo-yo's changed all the locks, and you can't get back in! So goes life in the bigtime rock 'n' roll technocracy.
Thankfully, local bands have a different dynamic, one that's focused around the joys of playing those favorite songs one more time – 'cause there sure as hell isn't any big money changing hands, right? Still, had luck and timing run their course just a little differently, many of these outfits could have crossed the finish line to everlasting fame 'n' fortune.
At least, that's how things panned out for White Summer, who roared out of Benton Harbor in 1973, and built a formidable live following – built around the pyrotechnics of blind guitarist Jimmy Schrader, and the deft drumming of Jimmy Watkins – who remained the band's mainstays during its original run. Along the way, White Summer recorded four platters of original material – beginning with WHITE ALBUM (1976) – and garnered praise from the likes of Eric Clapton, and Neil Young.
In many ways, White Summer's story reads like a movie, but not one that attracted support from management companies and major labels. Weary of that same-old, same-old phenomenon, White Summer called it quits in 1991. Inevitably, though, the boys couldn't stay away forever, and began to regroup with bassist Randy Brown, who toured for five years with the band during the 1980s.
The shows happen in Michigan, or Florida – which Brown and Schrader now call home – and have typically gone off about every other year, which is how I found myself catching White Summer's latest get-together at Czar's 505, in downtown St. Joseph.
Due to various boring tasks that invariably commandeer my attention, I don't make it down until the second set – but it's not too hard to figure out what's happening, as Dave Carlock makes clear to me outside, on the sidewalk: “Do you hear that? Jimmy Schrader's just killing it!”
Indeed, he is: I can hear those gut-wrenching strains of feedback and sustain floating off the main floor, up the stairs and outside, just long enough to hang in the air, and ring out into the night. On the main floor, the traffic is packed, as Watkins fronts the band – while his son, Adam, deputizes on the drumkit, something that he'll periodically do throughout the night.
The song happens to be a Doors classic, “Roadhouse Blues,” and the elder Watkins doesn't miss the opportunity to lead the crowd through a tradeoff on those telling lines in the last verse, the snapshot that Jim Morrison saw fit to offer his fans back in 1970: “Wellll, I woke up this morning, and I...”
Back comes the answer: “GOT MYSELF A BEER-AH!”
“Well, I woke up this morning, and I...”
“GOT MYSELF A BEER-AH!”
One, two, three, four: “Well, the future's uncertain, and...”
“...THE END IS ALWAYS NEAR-AH!”
All in all, not a bad start for my night, although my ears are taking a real old- fashioned mauling – because I've staked out a spot on stage right, under one of the speakers. However, when you've got a standing room only crowd, you hug that particular corner... because it may not be there when you get back.
I pray that the Feedback Gods will be kind on this occasion, and concentrate on click-click-clickin' away, as the band winds through its second, then third set, which focuses heavily on Hendrix territory. Schrader naturally gets lots of room to stretch out on well-worn showcases as “Red House” (for which the crowd sits down, because it's not a danceable number, per se), “The Star-Spangled Banner” – segueing into “Purple Haze,” Woodstock-style, of course – and “Fire,” with Randy Brown's fingers running nimbly underneath all the fretboard fireworks.
But that's half the fun, naturally: however much these songs got pounded into the ground via too many Classic Rock stations, whose formats carry the stink of mothballs and long-ago-discarded Rolodexes left by the umpteen different program directors who passed through their portals...
...White Summer brings them alive with a conviction that's impressive, as if they'd written these well-known numbers themselves. That's half the battle of interpretation, right? Close your eyes, and you can hear what kept the folks coming back to all those countless holes-in-the-walls, fourscore and so many nights ago.
We also get one-off raids of nuggets from ZZ Top, and Stevie Ray Vaughan (“Cold Shot”), and – to round out the night – Billy Idol's 1982 mega-smash, “White Wedding...y'know, the song that effectively punched his ticket out to Beverly Hills, generatin' oodles of cash 'n' cover versions that seemed a long way off to a certain W. Broad, back in certifiably fallin' apart late '70s-punk-era Swinging London...
...only tonight, the song is provisionally re-dubbed “White Summer,” as in: “It's a nice day for, a...WHITE SUMMER!” The bodies are back in force on the floor, roaring their full-throated approval, especially when they get to the punchline: “Well, it's a nice day to...STAAAAART AGAINNNNN!”
Last call is creeping around the bend as usual, but everybody seems bound 'n' determined to wring one last chord or two out of the boys onstage before the night slips out the back door..as it should be, eh? Here's hoping that we don't wait long till the next time, and that the Feedback Gods are kind to me once more. Time will tell.
Thankfully, local bands have a different dynamic, one that's focused around the joys of playing those favorite songs one more time – 'cause there sure as hell isn't any big money changing hands, right? Still, had luck and timing run their course just a little differently, many of these outfits could have crossed the finish line to everlasting fame 'n' fortune.
At least, that's how things panned out for White Summer, who roared out of Benton Harbor in 1973, and built a formidable live following – built around the pyrotechnics of blind guitarist Jimmy Schrader, and the deft drumming of Jimmy Watkins – who remained the band's mainstays during its original run. Along the way, White Summer recorded four platters of original material – beginning with WHITE ALBUM (1976) – and garnered praise from the likes of Eric Clapton, and Neil Young.
In many ways, White Summer's story reads like a movie, but not one that attracted support from management companies and major labels. Weary of that same-old, same-old phenomenon, White Summer called it quits in 1991. Inevitably, though, the boys couldn't stay away forever, and began to regroup with bassist Randy Brown, who toured for five years with the band during the 1980s.
The shows happen in Michigan, or Florida – which Brown and Schrader now call home – and have typically gone off about every other year, which is how I found myself catching White Summer's latest get-together at Czar's 505, in downtown St. Joseph.
Due to various boring tasks that invariably commandeer my attention, I don't make it down until the second set – but it's not too hard to figure out what's happening, as Dave Carlock makes clear to me outside, on the sidewalk: “Do you hear that? Jimmy Schrader's just killing it!”
Indeed, he is: I can hear those gut-wrenching strains of feedback and sustain floating off the main floor, up the stairs and outside, just long enough to hang in the air, and ring out into the night. On the main floor, the traffic is packed, as Watkins fronts the band – while his son, Adam, deputizes on the drumkit, something that he'll periodically do throughout the night.
The song happens to be a Doors classic, “Roadhouse Blues,” and the elder Watkins doesn't miss the opportunity to lead the crowd through a tradeoff on those telling lines in the last verse, the snapshot that Jim Morrison saw fit to offer his fans back in 1970: “Wellll, I woke up this morning, and I...”
Back comes the answer: “GOT MYSELF A BEER-AH!”
“Well, I woke up this morning, and I...”
“GOT MYSELF A BEER-AH!”
One, two, three, four: “Well, the future's uncertain, and...”
“...THE END IS ALWAYS NEAR-AH!”
All in all, not a bad start for my night, although my ears are taking a real old- fashioned mauling – because I've staked out a spot on stage right, under one of the speakers. However, when you've got a standing room only crowd, you hug that particular corner... because it may not be there when you get back.
I pray that the Feedback Gods will be kind on this occasion, and concentrate on click-click-clickin' away, as the band winds through its second, then third set, which focuses heavily on Hendrix territory. Schrader naturally gets lots of room to stretch out on well-worn showcases as “Red House” (for which the crowd sits down, because it's not a danceable number, per se), “The Star-Spangled Banner” – segueing into “Purple Haze,” Woodstock-style, of course – and “Fire,” with Randy Brown's fingers running nimbly underneath all the fretboard fireworks.
But that's half the fun, naturally: however much these songs got pounded into the ground via too many Classic Rock stations, whose formats carry the stink of mothballs and long-ago-discarded Rolodexes left by the umpteen different program directors who passed through their portals...
...White Summer brings them alive with a conviction that's impressive, as if they'd written these well-known numbers themselves. That's half the battle of interpretation, right? Close your eyes, and you can hear what kept the folks coming back to all those countless holes-in-the-walls, fourscore and so many nights ago.
We also get one-off raids of nuggets from ZZ Top, and Stevie Ray Vaughan (“Cold Shot”), and – to round out the night – Billy Idol's 1982 mega-smash, “White Wedding...y'know, the song that effectively punched his ticket out to Beverly Hills, generatin' oodles of cash 'n' cover versions that seemed a long way off to a certain W. Broad, back in certifiably fallin' apart late '70s-punk-era Swinging London...
...only tonight, the song is provisionally re-dubbed “White Summer,” as in: “It's a nice day for, a...WHITE SUMMER!” The bodies are back in force on the floor, roaring their full-throated approval, especially when they get to the punchline: “Well, it's a nice day to...STAAAAART AGAINNNNN!”
Last call is creeping around the bend as usual, but everybody seems bound 'n' determined to wring one last chord or two out of the boys onstage before the night slips out the back door..as it should be, eh? Here's hoping that we don't wait long till the next time, and that the Feedback Gods are kind to me once more. Time will tell.