hot out here

Goodbye to Pylon guitarist Randy Bewley.

Here was a band every bit as bold and forward-thinking as Joy Division and Gang of Four, but with smaller statements and different motivation.  Where Ian Curtis was examining the depth of human suffering, for instance, Pylon was playing Athens, GA parties with the early B-52s and R.E.M.  More approachable and inviting.  Less mysterious.  Indicative of the idea, which I have always loved, that the best band in the world doesn’t have to be on a major label or from thousands of miles away.  It can just as easily be your friends from work or school playing in a living room for 20 people.

Pylon often seemed so excited about their music that they could sometimes barely express it verbally.  Song titles came down to one or two-word mood indicators; lyrics were often little more than exclamations that “everything is COOL,” “working is no problem as long as I keep my mind,” “you can dance if you want to, you can dance if you like,” or (at their most absurdly reductive) “Four minutes! Four minutes! Four minutes!”  Bewley’s guitar playing played a big part in holding it all together; he could play brittle and taut, evoking a one-person Television – or, as on “Crazy,” basically invent Peter Buck’s early arpeggiated style for him.

Pylon could continue, I guess, but it’s hard to see how it would be the same.  I only wish I’d seen then.  It’s not as if I didn’t have lots of chances during their first reunion in the late ’80s.

Honestly, I wouldn’t expect too much in the world of blog posting for the near future.  Between the new attorney gig, an impending part-time job (starting late next month), my occasional freelance forays, and actually seeing my wife and kids once in awhile, I can barely catch my breath right now.

One new thing I’m doing is a series of MP3 posts of A to Z; Annie and I will be alternating every other Thursday.  I got to write the inaugural post, a look back at Beanpole’s pleasingly lo-fi pop sounds.  I’ve been a fan of Verna’s solo recordings for years, to the point of interviewing her for the last issue of CIF in 1999, and “Now I Know” is one of her best.

Greased Lightning (lead vocal: me)
Pine Grove Day Camp production of Grease
July 1980

Leavin’ On A Jet Plane (vocal: Michelle Shapiro; guitar: me)
Pine Grove Day Camp talent show
July 1982

I attended day camp every summer as a child, and then worked as a CIT until age 16.  I did time at Mill Road, Ivy League and even the East Brunswick YMCA, but I spent the majority of my summers at Pine Grove Day Camp in Jamesburg, NJ.  It took me awhile to find my niche – I was not good at sports and very shy – but at some point in August 1978, I stumbled into the playhouse and tried out for the camp play.  As I related in my previous blog, that action literally changed my life.  In the short term, I suddenly had friends and a creative outlet, and met adults who were great, encouraging role models.  In the long term, I learned how to get up in front of people, risk foolishness, and somehow make it work.  Did wonders for my self-confidence.

But don’t take my word for it.  Why don’t you listen to a couple of songs?

First we have “Greased Lightning” from our production of Grease in July 1980.  I played Kenickie, and I was asked to sing the song.  Never mind that Danny sang it in the original script; I would be taking the solo as Kenickie, complete with that pointing-across-the-stage move you’ve seen in the movie.  I had never sung in public before; in fact, some of my fellow thespians wouldn’t let me forget how, as part of my audition for that original play, I got up and sang a squeaky, off-key version of Wings’ “With A Little Luck.”  (Just picture Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.)  But eventually I agreed to it.  You can hear how nervous I was.

You’ll note that I’m singing a sanitized version of the lyrics.  OK, I understood even then why “you know that ain’t no shit, I’ll be gettin’ lots of tit” wouldn’t work in front of the whole camp.  But it still felt awkward and wrong, like my own personal “Let’s Spend Some Time Together.”  I wish I’d been punk rock enough to sing the explicit version.  You’ll also hear a crash, followed by laughter, about halfway through the song.  That’s the sound of my fellow cast members doing a hubcap-throwing routine behind me and missing one.  Gee, why didn’t any of us end up on Broadway?

Then we have “Leavin’ On A Jet Plane” from the 1982 talent show.  It was my second-ever time playing guitar in public; the first time was the 1981 talent show, in which I backed two sisters singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”  As much as I hated singing in public, I loved being the backing guitarist away from the spotlight.  Toward the end you can hear people singing along, the musical director chiming in on piano…and then some boos.  What was up with that?  Don’t tell me they were saying “Broooce” or “Boo-urns,” either.  Still, all I wanted after that was to be in a band…something I ended up not doing until 14 years later.

Note: I went back and forth about whether to post these tracks.  They’re quite embarrassing, even for me.  I have tapes of other camp shows from this era, and there are moments that rival the Langley Schools Music Project for dark, nostalgic beauty.  In the end, I decided to just post two songs in which I played a featured role.  If nothing else, I got a good laugh out of hearing them again.  Hopefully you will too.

Three Children – Tangle of Thorns
unreleased, 1983

Charcoal Chase – Flourished
unreleased, 1984

Clay People – Smile
unreleased, 1985

Just before I put the Blogspot blog to bed, I made a public Internet appeal for information on a band called Charcoal Chase.  I had an old fanzine with a one-page article that compared them to the Marine Girls and Nico, and mentioned one unreleased demo tape.  To my surprise, two members wrote me back.  (I’ve made these sorts of Internet appeals before and gotten no response.  Where art thou, Communicators?)

You can read Ian Taylor’s and Jerry Mussa’s musings in the comments sections.  To cut a long story short: Charcoal Chase didn’t progress too far past a few demo recordings and live shows.  Ian was kind enough to send me the one song he had in MP3 format.  “Flourished” was recorded in the summer of 1984.  It pretty much lives up to my expectations: very much in the vein of Pillows and Prayers-era Cherry Red.

I subsequently heard from Steve Escott, who played the other band members in various projects.  He’s working on an online archive, including MP3s dating back to 1981.  From that page I took two tracks.  One is by Three Children, the band that immediately predated Charcoal Chase; their “Tangle of Thorns” suggests a significant YMG influence.   The other is by the Clay People, which Jerry and friends formed after CC’s demise.  “Smile” trades the Marine Girls influence for a Smiths/Aztec Camera jaunty jangle, and is very pleasant.  I’d like to hear their other recordings someday.

Thanks to all parties involved for info and permission to upload.