There’s nothing jagged, however, about Feel the Sound. Whatever strains of aggression that propelled Imperial Teen’s earlier releases have been subsumed, or at least sublimated, beneath an airy cushion of keyboard ambience and two-, three-, and four-part harmonies especially on opening track “Runaway” which features all four members on lead vocals, a pretty nifty trick.  Even when the band suddenly shift gears from easy lope to double-time chorus on “Last to Know,” it feels unforced and at ease with itself; indeed, it’s only the lyrics on Feel the Sound ,that give the game away.  Imperial Teen has always carried its share of confusion and anguish inside its brightly-colored sonic man-purse, no doubt under the influence of bandleader Roddy Bottum, who who has faced the dual challenges of coming out as gay (which he did in 1993) and having a name it’s difficult to say without giggling. So song by song, the cheerful façade of Feel the Sound slowly crumbles on tracks like “No Matter What You Say” gradually giving way to the ravages of age, time and shorted-out interpersonal connections, and bringing us a world in which every loving cup is half-empty, not half-full. By the album’s last track, “Overtaken,” the fight’s gone out of the band – the end is nigh, so let’s get together, if only so we can jump in the river holding hands.
 

So where do we go from here? I expect we’ll find out somewhere around 2017.

Want to know the coolest thing about being the Editor in Chief of Rocker Magazine?  It’s the people you get to meet along the way.
 
Exhibit A: Marty Thau, founder of the seminal Red Star Label, record industry insider, and manager of notorious glam-punk pioneers The New York Dolls.
 
How pleased were we when Thau offered to share his first person account of his time as the manager of one of the most important bands in musical history?  Words fail us of course.  Thankfully, they didn’t fail him.
 

 

___

Rocker: You quit a job to become the manager of the Dolls. What were you doing previous to becoming their manager?

Marty: I was the Vice President of A&R at Paramount Records. I was there only for a short period of time, seven or nine months. There was a lot of politics at that company, and I didn’t think they were really interested in rock and roll. They were really the soundtrack releasing arm for their film company so I said, “The hell with it, I don’t need this, I quit,” not knowing exactly where I was going, but I’d just had it.

I was out on the town celebrating my resignation from my job with my wife, and I stumbled across the Mercer Arts Center, and I remembered that a friend of mine had mentioned that there was a group downtown called the New York Dolls who were the best unsigned group in town. That person was Danny Goldberg, who was only 19 at the time, in later years he went on to become the president of Warner Bros. records and the manager of Nirvana and Bonnie Raitt, and has had a very illustrious career, and he’s still going to this day.

Rocker: How did you know him then?

Marty: He worked at Paramount in publicity. He was the only one at Paramount that I really liked and enjoyed talking with. So he had mentioned that to me about the New York Dolls, and there we were, down in the Village, we’d had dinner, we were walking around, and I see this marquee at the Mercer Arts Center saying, “New York Dolls, three dollars, two shows.” The night was young yet, so my wife and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s go in,” and we did, and there were 14 people in the audience.  We didn’t know what to expect, had no idea who this group was, except this fellow, whose opinion I regarded, said they were the best unknown band in New York. So we got seats by the stage, and on came this band who were just outrageous-looking. Their design was unheard of. They were a combination of female accessories and looked like nothing that I had ever seen. Then they played, and at the end of the show, we were walking out and I said to my wife, “That’s either the best band I’ve ever seen, or the worst band I’ve ever seen.”

Rocker: Did more than 14 people turn up by the time they went on?

Marty: No, 14 people were in the audience. So we were at the door, ready to leave, and I said to my wife, “Let’s go back and talk to them,” so we did, and they were very interesting and humorous and seemingly intelligent, and I said, “Hey, why don’t we talk some more about your career?”  So we met two weeks later at Max’s Kansas City in the back room to discuss their future and what they were up to, and in the course of that conversation, I thought to myself, “Gee, these guys really know exactly what they want to do. I’m really interested in this.”

At that same time, I had an opportunity to be funded for a label by Morris Levy the notorious godfather of the music business, [founder of Roulette Records label, and the Strawberries record store chain. Later convicted of extortion by a federal jury – ed.], he somehow contacted me. He was reputed to be the gangster of the music business. I don’t remember how it came about, but somehow Morris Levy wanted to back me on a label, and I discussed it one time with him, but I was very wary of actually doing any business with him because of his reputation. I thought to myself, “Maybe I’ll sign these groups and do some singles with them.” But then when I got to meet the Dolls and saw how directed they were, I thought to myself, “I’m not going to do that deal with Morris Levy, I’m going to manage these boys.”

Shortly after, I met up with Steve Lieber and David Krebs, two booking agents who had left William Morris to form their own company.  I had met them in the course of my stay at Paramount, and they said, “Hey, if you have something you want to do with us, contact us.” So I contacted them and thought, “Maybe this is a good idea, to work with them. They’re booking agents, this is a band that has to go out on tour and be seen.” So we ended up making a deal where they were my partners in the Dolls, and at that point, we started to see what we could do to get them together to get their mindset in the right place.

Rocker: You said the band seemed really focused when you met them – what did you think needed to change for them for them to get to the next step?

Marty: They were kind of wild. East Village wild boys. Their interest was to get laid, to get high, to have fun, to play rock and roll. I don’t know that they ever really saw the music business as a business as much as a party.

Rocker: Had you managed bands before?

Marty: When I first got into the music business, my cousin, Elaine, was working at Hill and Range music, and her boyfriend was young Tony Orlando. So when I first got into the business, I was working for Billboard magazine. When I got the job, as was their policy, they ran a picture of me and an announcement in the paper and she called me and we went out with Tony Orlando. We had dinner and hung out one night, and we hit it off, and that was during the time while I was at Billboard, he eventually came to me and said, “Hey, would you like to manage me?” He was only 19 at the time, but when he was 16, he had two big hits under his belt, “Halfway to Paradise” and “Bless You” that were written by Carole King and Barry Mann. So I resigned from Billboard and became his manager.  That was my first managerial experience. I didn’t really know anything at that point, I was just going around and learning the business.

Rocker: What was special enough about the Dolls for you to decide to get back into management?

Marty: For one, nobody ever looked like them. Their rock and roll style was hot as could be, they really played a hot form of rock and roll. David is underrated in terms of his lyrics, he’s very descriptive in what he says, he’s a very important writer. I would say that he’s a poet, actually. He’s a serious writer. I couldn’t really describe exactly the form that he’s about, but he’s very important as a lyricist.

Rocker: You signed on to manage them – were they going on the road at the time? It’s about a year from the time that you worked with them until they got a deal, right?

Marty: We started playing first in New York City, and they got hotter and hotter in New York, they were really the darlings of New York.  Then we started talking to record companies to come down and see them, and there were all kinds of different views about them: they were too loud, they were too crazy,…  Every record company came down, and all of them had a different opinion about what was right or wrong about the group, but nobody wanted to sign them, except for Paul Nelson, who had left Rolling Stone to became head of rock and roll at Mercury Records.  He wanted to sign them but he was having a tough time trying to convince his company. It didn’t help when the Dolls auditioned for them, that they were drunk or unrehearsed. Anyway, we decided to take the band to London, because in London, they’re more sophisticated, and we thought they’ll see what this band is all about.  So we went to London, and everything was fine, and they opened for Rod Stewart at Wembley Auditorium, which was a 13,000-seater, never having played before to more than 350 people.

Rocker: How did you negotiate that?

Marty: Steve Lieber. It was an important gig.  Perhaps they were unprepared for it, but they pulled it off. Some of the reviews ripped them apart, but some said, “We have seen the future of rock and roll, and this is what it’s all about, it’s about the New York Dolls! These guys are the real thing! These guys put Suede and Sweet and other bands of this genre to shame!” In the audience was Kit Lambert and his partner, they were the managers of The Who, and they flipped out.  They loved The Dolls and wanted to sign them to Track Records.

A meeting was set up to meet with Kit and his partner to discuss that, but it was at that meeting that I got a phone call that said, “Marty, come quickly, [Dolls drummer] Billy Murcia has died.” I said, “What?” So I immediately ran out, hopped in a taxi cab, shot over to the address I was given, and I was greeted there by the English police.  It seemed that he had been given some drugs, and he had been drinking, and he passed out and they put him into a tub, and tried to feed him coffee.  He choked on his own regurgitation and he died. Everybody at the party there that he attended ran out and left him.  Someone called the police finally, the police came and I came, and I identified his body for Scotland Yard.

At that point it was a question of, “Well, I guess nobody’s going to sign this band, because nobody knows if this band is going to exist anymore”.  It took a month for his body to be shipped back to New York, and Scotland Yard wanted us to come over there because they wanted to investigate the usage of these drugs, and I was sick – I had gotten mumps from my daughter before I left – and soI was in bed for about a month.  I was getting phone calls from all around the world, looking for bits of information as to what happened, and I told Scotland Yard, “Forget about it, we’re not coming to England,” and that was the last I heard of them. So at that point, it was a question of what happens with the Dolls.

Rocker: Was there a time when the band thought, “Maybe we just won’t continue on?”

Marty: I hoped they’d continue, but I thought, “Oh my god, this is my rock and roll dream. This is the band I thought could really be a huge band!”  So, I hoped they’d continue.  About a month later, the word came down, “Yes, we will continue,” and they auditioned Jerry Nolan and he was in the band now, and they were going to move forward, and I said, “Great.”

I remember this day, December 19, 1973, they played at the Mercer Arts Center, and it was like a record industry convention. The place only held about 287 people, but 400-some odd people showed up.  It was jam-packed, and people still didn’t want to sign the Dolls, but at that point they were afraid to ignore them. Paul Nelson kept working on his company to sign this band, and finally they gave in and we made a deal with Mercury Records, and Todd Rundgren was chosen to produce them, and he did a great job.  That first record is considered a classic,

Rocker: Was the band excited about working with Todd Rundgren?

Marty: There were some mixed opinions about him. Jerry Nolan, for example, felt that his drum presentation was a little too light, too mild, but then again, drummers want to be up front and pound away. He deserves kudos for what he did on that record. He made a great record. There are pros and cons about how well he did, but I thought he did a very good record. But he was not the friendliest guy.  He was a little bit cold and indifferent. I think he liked the group, but he didn’t know how to deal with their quirkiness.

Rocker: So it wasn’t like he came to the band and said, “I’m crazy about you guys.”

Marty: I was searching around, and most producers that I had chosen felt that they were a difficult ensemble. That was the reputation that they had, that they were crazy, that they were gay – which they weren’t – that they did drugs… Everybody in the business didn’t know what to make of them.

Rocker: Some of these things sound like they were true, while some weren’t.  It seems there were a lot of people afraid of The Dolls, but they didn’t frighten you.

Marty: I wasn’t afraid of them. I thought that they were intelligent, humorous, great rock and roll players. I’d had a chance to meet up with them up front and ask some pointed questions when we met that time at Max’s, and then hanging around with them on different occasions and seeing them perform and what the reaction to them was. I had a pretty clear view of what they were all about.

Rocker: When you say ‘pointed questions,’ what do you mean?

Marty: I was digging to see how serious they were, and were they gay, because everybody was asking that question. I wanted to know. Not that it really mattered to me, but I discovered that they weren’t.

Rocker: If you found out they had been gay, would it have completely derailed their careers?
 

Marty: At that point, it probably would have. In those days, you couldn’t say ‘damn’ on TV. Those were in the early Seventies. The guys in the audience hated the Dolls, but the girls loved them.

Rocker: The guys didn’t want to be them?

Marty: No, the guys said, “Look at these guys, they’re a bunch of faggots, look at what they wear, look at their clothes.” The girls said, “My god, look how liberated these guys are, they can wear accessories but give it a different twist that doesn’t look like they’re trying to dress like drag queens.”

Rocker: So after the Todd Rundgren-produced record comes out, they hit the road again?

 
Marty: They were constantly on the road. We’d get them to Cleveland and they’d draw a crowd, and when we’d return to Cleveland, the crowd would be three times bigger. The record sales were OK, but Mercury expected it to go through the roof, to go gold the first time around, so we were up against that.  They were very rigid people, and we tried to convince them that, “Hey, it takes some time.  Let them just keep going back and hit the road and hit different cities, and the crowds will be bigger and bigger.  It doesn’t just happen overnight.”

At that point, drugs and alcohol were creeping into the band, Jerry Nolan and Johnny Thunders were serious drug addicts at that point, they were shooting heroin. Arthur Kane was a notorious alcoholic, he’d get the DTs in the morning, and couldn’t be reliable. We went out to LA and Arthur couldn’t even play, because the night before we were scheduled to leave to go to Los Angeles, his girlfriend tried to cut off his thumb so that he wouldn’t leave New York. Fortunately, one of their roadies, Peter Jordan, was able to fill in. But, yeah, there was a lot of craziness involved with this band. We’d play in different locations, and people would be trying to hit them or grab them onstage or start fights with them. It was similar to what the Sex Pistols found.

It came time for the band to do a second album, and I was trying to get Leiber and Stoller to produce them, but somehow or other that didn’t materialize, and they recommended Shadow Morton. He’d produced the Shangri-Las.  The Dolls were kind of fans of the Shangri-Las, so they chose him, and he made a good record, but there was a backlash.  It was a very good record, but it didn’t break through and go gold, and Mercury was kind of feeling, “What is this? What do we have?”  Had the Dolls taken care of their demons, and realized that the record business was not just a party, that it was a business, and they continued to write and make more records, I think they would have been a band that would have definitely played some of the biggest venues in the world and sold loads of records, but unfortunately, that didn’t come about.

At that point, I found that I couldn’t go any further with them. I couldn’t break them of these bad demons, and I said to them, “As long as you are going to behave like this, I’m not going to be your manager,” and it went in one ear and out the other. So I split, I left them and I was no longer their manager. I knew that Steve, my partner, couldn’t do it without me, he tried, and Malcolm McLaren came into the picture, he thought he could resurrect them, but he couldn’t.

Rocker: Do you remember your impressions of McLaren at the time?
 

Marty: I thought that he was an interesting guy. He was somewhat sophisticated, but he didn’t really know the record business, he was a clothing store person. He liked this band so much that he hoped he could manage them, and he knew they were left without a manager at that point, so he could move in. But Malcolm’s theory to shake things up with a large dose of anarchy, designed to fly in the face of the prim pomposity of New York City’s rock and roll critics’ boys club failed miserably. He was the Dolls’ manager for, like, 10 minutes. He said he was their manager, but he wasn’t their manager.  They saw right through him and dumped him.

He had booked a tour down in Florida during the spring break, and when Johnny Thunders and Jerry Nolan couldn’t afford drugs down in Florida, they said, “The hell with it,” and split and went back to New York, and that was the end of the Dolls. David and Sylvain said, “If this is what we have to deal with, let’s forget about it.”

All these years later, The Dolls reformed because they were approached by Steven Morrissey, who became the curator of the Meltdown Festival in England, and he was the biggest fan of the Dolls ever. He thought, “Maybe I could convince them to play in a resurrected version at this festival,” and somehow they agreed.

Rocker: Have you seen the band play since they reformed?
 

Marty: No, I haven’t seen them. I’ve seen video clips, but I haven’t seen them. I was ill. I had had an operation in 2010 that almost killed me, so I couldn’t get out to get to see them. Maybe someday I will, who knows?

Rocker: When you think back on their legacy, do you think they got short-changed or have they gotten their due?
 

Marty: I think that their legacy is great, and not only that, but they’re playing all around the world at this point, and are making some decent-sized money. They’re drawing 30,000 people in South America, selling out in Japan, you name it, they are playing it, and they’ve returned, they’ve done good, sold-out business. They’re a promoter’s delight at this point.

Rocker: Do you wish that’s how they were when you had to deal with them? Were they a promoter’s delight then?
 

Marty: I wish! I thought that would be what would happen. I was actually right in my thought on where they could go. Even in their current reduced form they are proving that.

Rocker: How did working with the Dolls change your life? What did you learn?
 

Marty: It taught me what touring was all about, about the mindset of musicians, and I guess it made me, in parts, more cynical.

It was a great disappointment, is what it was. Not just to me, but to loads of people who were major fans of the band, who loved them. They took this band to their bosom.  This was a special band.  When the Dolls broke up, it was a great disappointment. The New York Times wrote an obituary. They were very important. An obituary about a rock band breaking up is very unusual.

 
As leader of the San Francisco  band Translator, Steve Barton helped create four of the 1980s greatest albums and the ultra catchy hit single “Everywhere That I’m Not.”  West Coast Bureau chief Keith Valcourt caught up with Barton in Los Angeles to discuss all things Translator, playing John Lennon in a Beatles Tribute band , what it’s like to have the Brady Bunch’s “Cousin Oliver” as your drummer and his his haunting new solo CD: “Projector” 

Rocker: Is it true you started your professional music career at age 14?

Steve: I was actually 11.  The first band I was in was called The Present Tense.  I played drums, then the guitar player and I wanted to start writing our own songs.    We wrote a couple songs and a friend of my parents took those songs to a friend of his named Mike Curb who had a record company (Ed note:  Curb produced Sammy Davis Jr’s “Candy Man” along with several hits for dozens of artists in the seventies.)  He had a label called Sidewalk Records back then.  They brought us into this big studio to record theses two songs, and I remember thinking it was cool until we found out that the backing tracks we pre-recorded.  We were a little crestfallen.  But it never came out because one of the band member’s dads wouldn’t let him sign the contract. That made us break up.  Right after The Present Tense I got a publishing deal at age 14. That lasted a couple years.  When that ended I had to figure out if I wanted to literally be a translator, because I was fluent in French, or play music. I ended up touring as the guitarist for a disco singer named Ella Woods.  She made us call the band LIFE.  I think she went on to success in France.  I used to sing “Just the Way You Are” by Billy Joel.  We did a USO tour with her all over Germany.  It was pretty cool.

Rocker: How did you end up in a Beatles tribute band?

Steve: There used to be a place here in Los Angeles called the Musician’s Contact Service.  After the tour with the disco singer I went there and saw that there were auditions for a Beatles tribute band, and they were looking for a George.  I came into a plain looking office with my guitar and the guy said, “Sing!”  I just got out “Something in the…” And the guy said, “It’s Fine!  You’re hired.”

I will say the band was really good once we got together.  The guy who was playing George and I switched places.  We played high school and amusement parks all over the country, Six Flags and stuff.  This was right before Translator started.  Me belting out “Twist & Shout” every night for six months got my voice in the greatest shape for Translator.

Rocker:Is that where you met future Translator drummer Dave Scheff who was Ringo?

Steve: Yeah. There had been another drummer first who wasn’t cutting it.  I always say he was our Pete Best.  Then Dave came in to be Ringo.  We went to Japan and did a whole tour there.  Dave and I were on the plane flying back from Japan and said, “Why don’t we start our own band?  We did when we got back to L.A.

Rocker:How did Translator come together?

Steve: Different people would come in and out of the line up but the band was always called Translator.  We had a song called “Translator” at the time.  Finally Dave said, “I have a friend in Santa Cruz who plays bass.”  It was Larry Decker.   He came down to L.A. And we were a trio for a while, about six months, then Bob Darlington who was in another band came on board.

Rocker:Why did you guys move from L.A. to San Francisco? 

Steve: Whether it was true or not, the feeling we had in L.A. Was that we were beating our heads against the wall.  It felt a little bit like every gig was a showcase where we hoped we would get signed to the big label.  Larry had lived in Berkeley, California and he suggested we check out the Bay Area.  We moved as a band and fell in love with the place and lived together.  For the first six months I slept in a down sleeping bag on a piece of foam in someone’s front room. It was really cool.

Rocker:You guys were part of 415 records, what was the 415 San Fran scene like? 

Steve: It was really great. The 415 thing happened in a little less than a year of moving to San Francisco.  We had a demo of “Everywhere That I’m Not” that David Kahne had produced and Howie Klein (415 Records Founder) started playing it on his radio show. He had a radio show on the great college station KUSF. He noticed he was getting all sorts of requests for it, not just from the kids but from housewives, and all kinds of people. He came out to see us and offered us a deal with 415.

Rocker:Were the 415 bands (Romeo Void, Wire Train) friends or competitors?

Steve: It felt much more like a camaraderie. San Francisco was much more supportive and family-like.  They still had free shows in Golden Gate Park there, and we played a couple of those.  Back in L.A. It wasn’t like that at all, it was very competitive.  The band just blossomed up there.  As did I.

Rocker:Translator released 4 great albums but only had one hit single with “Everywhere That I’m Not.”  Was that frustrating for you?

Steve: No.  To me some people never have a song that breaks through.  I’ll take the one everyday of the week.  It’s fine.

Rocker:Do you mind being called a “One Hit Wonder?”

Steve: No, because I know the albums were great. A lot of people know the albums, so I have no problem with anybody knowing the song really well.  That’s great.  I still play it to this day.

Rocker: Who was “Everywhere That I’m Not” written for?

Steve: I don’t know if it was exactly written for one person in particular.  I was in a relationship that was ending and I’m sure it focuses around that a little bit but not completely.

Rocker:A lot of artists that succeed in the 80s have come and gone but you’ve continued to make music.  What are you up to now?

Steve: I am busy writing all the time.  My main focus is on writing and making records still.  I have some interest in music publishing as well.

 Rocker:  Is it easier or harder to be a working musician these days?

Steve:  For me, the joy in doing it is the same, if not maybe more. It doesn’t feel any harder to me.  At least my role in it, as someone who writes songs, That hasn’t changed that much from when I was 12.  I write in the same way on guitar or piano.  I don’t find it any harder or easier.  It’s never been easy but I love doing it.  I haven’t lost the love for it at all.

Rocker: Is your latest solo CD “Projector,” your most personal album?

Steve:I think so. It deals with my dad’s death. Not every song is about that. There is one love song on there that talks about rolling around on the sand kissing. Juts to be clear, that song is not about him. I’m not working out some issue with my dad.

Rocker: A lot of your songs and albums deal with death.

Steve: I listened to some of my early songs from when I was twelve recently and many of them are about death. A lot or my albums seem to be. The first post-Translator album I made called “Boy Who Rode His Bike Around The World” came out when my mom was sick, then the next one “Charm Offensive” came out after she died. It had a couple songs about that. Then the next album was “Flicker Of Time” which kind of is about life and death.  Now this one.�
 

My dad died on a Sunday. The following Monday I was home by myself, I picked up a guitar and was strumming and this song just came out of me. It’s called “Super Fantastic Guy.” I ended up singing it at his memorial with Dave from Translator playing  percussion.  For a month after he died, every time I picked up my guitar or went to the piano a song would literally pour out of me. It got to the point where I said, “I don’t want to pick up a guitar anymore.” It was therapy for me.

After my dad’s death, I had all these songs and I took them all to Marvin Etzioni (Lone Justice Founder), an old friend of mine from 1979 who ended up producing the record and also produced my first solo CD. He was very laid back. I went to his house and sat down with my guitar. He set up a 4 track cassette machine and said, “Let me put a mic in front of you and roll tape.” I just started playing. At the end of a couple days we had 18 songs. Marvin said, “This sounds like an album to me.” We picked 12 of them I said, “Great well let me teach them to my solo band The Oblivion Click and we’ll set up time to record.” Marvin said, “That would be a great record or since this is a very personal record why don’t you play all the instruments.” I took the weekend to think and thought “I can’t do that.”  But decided Marvin was right.  It’s mostly guitar but apart from a weird projector sound on the song “Projector” that Marvin played on synthesizer, every sound on it is me.

Rocker: What was the recording process like?

Steve: We recorded to tape and mixed to tape as we went. Record. Mix. Move on. We only bought one reel of two inch tape.  Because, first of all, to get it now, it’s really expensive. We had to order it. We would fill up the reel. You get three finished songs on the tape, mix it to quarter inch and save it to pro-tools and then commit and record the next three songs over the stuff. We did the whole album that way, in about five days.

Rocker: Do you miss recording in big recording studios?

Steve: I love being in a big recording studio. If I had my druthers… I just wanted to use that word.

Rocker: Listen, anytime you can use druthers in an interview it’s a good thing.  Also if you can throw the word permeate in as well.

Steve: If I had my druthers I would let the music permeate in a big recording studio, because I just love them. I get that everyone has a recording studio in their bedroom now, which is really cool. But given the choice, I like a recording studio.

Rocker:Who is the song “Bowie Girl” about ?

Steve: It’s actually about me, it’s about me growing up in my folks’ house. My parents never moved from the house I grew up in. It’s about me, and how David Bowie was my life raft, especially in my teenage years.

Rocker:You also have a band called Steve Barton And The Oblivion Click which features Robbie Rist (The Brady Bunch’s “Cousin Oliver”) on drums. Do you tease him about his past?

Steve: I don’t tease him, but people still recognize him. I think he’s really proud of that part. He’s done a whole bunch of stuff. He was he voice of Michelangelo in the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” and he’s been in a zillion bands, but people tend to remember the six episodes of that one show he did way back when.

Rocker:How did he end up being your drummer?

Steve:He found me. I was doing a solo show ten years ago, like I’ll be doing the new tour to support “Projector,” which is just me and an electric guitar.  Kind of like Billy Bragg.  And Robbie came up to me after the show and said, “How come you don’t have a band?” I had just moved back to L.A. From San Francisco, and I didn’t know how to answer him.  He said, “Just a minute!” and disappeared back into the crowd. He came back a few minutes later and said, “Alright, I’m your drummer. My girlfriend is your bass player. When do we rehearse?” We were a trio for a while and then Robbie and his girlfriend broke up. Rather than be in Fleetwood Mac he suggested Derek Anderson who has been my bass player ever since. He’s now The Bangles bass player. It’s a cool little band.

Rocker: What are you future plans?

Steve:After I finish the “Projector” tour I want to record a real rock record with The Oblivion Click. I’m going to want to do that after it being just me. The songs for that are much more up. I’ve been listening to a lot of Leon Russell. Not sure it will sound like that but it’s a good start.

 The last time Translator played was 2009, do you have any future plans for another Translator tour or album?

Steve: That was in L.A. and San Francisco.  It was a 415 records reunion with Wire Train and Romeo Void.  It was great.  Really really  fun.  We played one other time after that but it wasn’t open to the public.   So we have played since then.  It was in San Francisco.  We rented a studio and invited our friends.  That thing felt like a gig we would have done in 1981.  It was really casual.  After that  we said if we do any kind of future touring it has to  I don’t want to go out and do a “Tight Rock Show.”

Translator has something coming out on April 17^th called “Big Green Lawn.”  It’s an album of 8 songs we recorded  a few of years ago that we are now putting out available online only. I think it’s really good.  Great songs.  Great playing.   There is still life in the band yet.  Translator never felt like we really broke up.  We all did different things.  Dave was in Winter Hours. Bob did a book of poetry.  Larry has been in a bunch of bands.  Everybody is doing their own thing but Translator has always been a really important part of our lives.   What we’d all like to do when “Big Green Lawn” comes out is be able to do some shows behind it.  I plan to be a very busy boy for the rest of 2012.

9. We’re going to slow things down a bit now.  Here’s one going out to all the pretty ladies….

8. I don’t think we should set that on fire.

7. Since we’re playing in Worcester tonight, how about we encore with a cover of “More Than A Feeling”?

6. I can’t stop watching adorable kitten videos on You Tube, have the concert without me.

5. Does this freaky zombie makeup make my ass look big?

4. How do you think you get a slot on Dancing With The Stars?

3. The girls who sing “Hot Problems” just called. Who’s gonna tell Joe Letz he’s off the tour?

2. Can I have a hug?

1. When the show is over I’m having a teddy bear tea party. Which of you guys wants to come?

Rocker correspondents will be reporting on several screenings, but a few IFFB selections have already been previewed. Here are five worth checking out.

 
 

 
“Beauty is Embarrassing”
7 p.m. April 30 at the Somerville Theatre

Wayne White was one of three artists behind the iconic design of “Pee Wee’s Playhouse,” as well as the puppets in Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” video and the production design of The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Tonight Tonight” video. More recently, he’s been inserting hilarious messages into thrift store landscape paintings. Documentary filmmaker Neil Berkeley handles this entertaining subject with an appropriately light, playful touch. A direct line to the source should be even more fun; White will be joining Berkeley for an appearance at the film’s one festival screening.

 
 

 
“Girl Model”
5 p.m. April 29 at the Somerville Theatre
This hypnotic fly-on-the-wall documentary puts to rest the old joke about super-hot models being inflatable instead of human. In fact, they’re often harvested in their teens from poverty-stricken outposts like Siberia, sent to faraway countries alone and sold a line about their chances of career success. Trailing one 13-year-old hopeful and her recruiter, herself a former model, filmmakers David Redmon and Ashley Sabin expose the truth behind the glamour.

 
 
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“God Bless America”
10:15 p.m. April 28 at the Somerville Theatre
The confrontationally wacky shtick Bob Goldthwait honed as a comedian has been ground to a skewed edge by his filmmaking career, resulting in work that’s not for all tastes. His latest is no different, but if you’ve ever found yourself screaming at the TV during a particularly painful example of reality TV idiocy, you’re bound to get a chuckle out of Joel Murray’s white collar sad sack-turned-spree killer and his blood-lusting teen girl sidekick. Goldthwait offered quite the crowd-pleasing intro at the Toronto Film Fest screening, and is expected to do the same in Boston.

“It’s Such a Beautiful Day”
9:45 p.m. April 26, 6:45 p.m. April 27 and noon April 28 at the Somerville Theatre
Any Bostonians who missed animator Don Hertzfeldt’s recent appearance at the Coolidge have another chance to catch his mind-blowing new work, which concludes his trilogy of “Bill” shorts in sad, weird and wonderful ways, in Shorts Package 5: Animation. The line-up also features The Maker, a clever, efficient stop-motion collaboration between Australian animator Christopher Kezelos and Ohio artist Amanda Louise Spayd.
 
 

 
“Keyhole”
8:30 p.m. April 29 at the Somerville Theatre
Walking out of a Guy Maddin movie is almost exactly like waking from a dream, but considering the gorgeous, early cinema-inspired imagery and bizarre symbolism he conjures, Maddin generally does your own subconscious one better. His latest feature, a take on “The Odyssey” follows gangster Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric) through the rooms of his home to find his long-neglected wife Hyacinth (Isabella Rossellini). Sound simple? It’s anything but.

Wow!  What can we say about this group of posters by fancy La-La-Land Prints designer Kii Arens except they are so cool, that no matter which one you choose, it’s going to make your hip pad THAT MUCH HIPPER.   Each of the posters above is around 17″ x 24″, unframed and signed by the artist.  Hungry for more? Check out Kii’s complete collection here:  http://www.lalalandposters.com/  

Rocker has been lucky enough to get one of each of the five amazing pieces of art shown above to give away to our faithful readers! Want one?  Well of course you do.  If you’re already a subscriber to our newsletter all you have to do is send an email to the address listed in your monthly e-mail. Not on the list? Sign up by visiting the link below and we’ll add you to our mailing list so you can get the scoop!

Contest closes at 11:59PM EST May 15 , 2012. All winners notified by email. You understand by filling in the form above you are subscribing to the Rocker Magazine email list, and that entering this giveaway does not guarantee a prize.

 
Black Pond
Nominated for Outstanding Debut at this year’s British Academy Awards, this one-of-a-kind black comedy co-directed by Tom Kingsley and Will Sharpe strays far from the beaten path in telling the story of a family accused of murdering a stranger they’d invited to dinner. Black Pond’s sense of humor ranges from bone-dry to borderline ridiculous (in a subplot involving a therapist played by comedian Simon Amstell), but it all hangs together, thanks to the original vision of the filmmakers and the strong performances, most notably the witty turn from Chris Langham as the beleaguered family patriarch.
 
 

 
Safety Not Guaranteed
Perhaps the first motion picture in history to be based on a classified ad, Safety Not Guaranteed was inspired by an actual magazine listing placed by a would-be time traveler seeking an assistant. Written by Derek Connolly and directed by Colin Trevorrow, the film finds a trio of magazine employees (including Parks and Recreation’s Aubrey Plaza) investigating the man who placed the ad (Mark Duplass of The League). What follows is a charming and often very funny ensemble comedy laced with an undercurrent of melancholy.

Somebody Up There Likes Me
Austin filmmaker Bob Byington established a uniquely absurdist, deadpan sensibility in such micro-budgeted features as RSO [Registered Sex Offender] and Harmony and Me. His latest effort takes that style to the next level in telling a story of friendship and love lost over the course of 35 years, among characters that never age. The film’s often bizarre sense of humor may not be to everyone’s taste, but the presence of Byington regular Nick Offerman, now famous as Parks and Recreation’s Ron Swanson, may bring the writer/director a larger audience than he’s enjoyed so far.
 
 

 
Sun Don’t Shine
As an actress, Amy Seimetz has been a staple of indie film in recent years, appearing in such past SXSW entries as Tiny Furniture and Silver Bullets. Her debut as a writer-director, Sun Don’t Shine, suggests that she has as promising a future behind the camera as in front of it. Somewhat reminiscent of the early work of Terrence Malick, Seimetz’s film follows a young couple (Kate Lyn Sheil and Kentucker Audley) on the run through backwater Florida, slowly revealing the impetus behind their doom-laden road trip. Moody and unnerving, Sun Don’t Shine casts a spell that lingers long after the lights come up.
This film is also playing at the Independent Film Festival Boston – Buy tickets by clicking here!

As fans of our Facebook page know, Rocker Magazine loves a birthday. So it was a moment of real inspiration that found me spending a Friday night trying to track down the birthdate of one of my very favorite “Jangling Men”, elusive pop king Martin Newell. 

Most famous in the US for the company he keeps (co-writing with Captain Sensible of The Damned, and his Andy Partridge of XTC 1993 album “The Greatest Living Englishman”), his position as a Cherry Red label stalwart and firmly on the outside of the mainstream music world has often succeeded in keeping his records out of the hands of those who would cherish them most. Sporting the kind of lyrical and sonic charms that would make any fan of Robyn Hitchcock or Ray Davies sigh, Newell has spent more than 30 years stuffing songs with the shiny hooks, and clever crooks, that unilaterally make pop lovers swoon.  But enough of that, when is his birthday?

Within hours I was surprised to find myself in a short back and forth email exchange with Newell himself, who revealed courtesy of Brooklyn label Captured Tracks, his back catalogue was about to be given a bump in the form of a swanky Record Store Day box set encapsulating the first three (formerly cassette-only releases) by his turn of the 80’s outfit The Cleaners From Venus.  It was just a hop and a skip then to realize we were going to have to get on the phone to talk more about that, his radio show, books, and everything else that is going on with this multitalented fellow.

His birthday by the way is March 4.  Do send him a card.  

 
______________

Rocker:  So Captured Tracks is about to re-release the first three Cleaners From Venus records for Record Store Day UK.  What can you tell me about those albums?

Martin:  Those were made in our twenties, and we had nothing to lose.  We didn’t even know we were going to release them, let alone that 32 years later, they’d be getting released and people would be talking about them like serious, critical things. We really were boys mucking about in the shed.

Rocker: They’re very lo-fi, were they recorded in your home?

Martin: They were recorded wherever we could record.  Sometimes it was this big weird building I lived in, sometimes it was an old derelict kitchen in a big house I was looking after that wasn’t being used by anybody. We had a tape recorder mic, and people think it was a “style device”, but we just didn’t have any money for equipment. We couldn’t really play very well, but we had loads of ideas and loads of enthusiasm. It wasn’t a bad thing, really.

Rocker: Were you surprised when you were contacted to get these records rereleased?

Martin: No.  People have been trying to get hold of these tapes for ages.  I thought, “This is stupid, I don’t want to release these things. I’m not selling the family silver,” and one [of the people from Captured Tracks] said to me, “We’re not asking you to sell the family silver, we’re only asking you to license it to us.” And I thought, “Yeah, I probably am being stupid.  I have some old oxide rotting upstairs in the attic, and I could be turning it into alcohol.” People do want to hear it.

Rocker: Did you do any remixing, or are they exactly as they were?

Martin: There was really no way of remixing them.  I was quite careless about those things. We didn’t have any master tapes, we just had one good cassette copy of each thing. I had to ask a friend of mine, “Do you have a copy anywhere? Mine’s got all this dropping out on it, and tape degeneration and hiss,” and he found one that was slightly better, and I very painstakingly digitized it and sent it off to America where they cleaned it up a bit and took some of the grunge off of it. So really they’re just cleaned-up versions of what we’ve got. Nothing’s been remixed. I wouldn’t like to remix them, anyway.  Those things happened then, that’s what they were like. I’m sure it would be interesting for completists to have remixes of Rubber Soul or Revolver, but I kind of like the ones they’ve got.

Did you know MGMT have covered one of our old songs? It’s on Midnight Cleaners, it has 80,000 hits on it on YouTube, it’s called “Only a Shadow.”  They covered it, and did it pretty much the same as us. I had to find out who had the copyright so I was in touch with Andrew, I said, “Hey Andy, we’ve got quite a famous band in America doing covers of our songs,” and he made sure it was reactivated. I don’t know if it will earn me any money or not.

Rocker: These records weren’t your first foray into recorded music though,…

Martin: No, my first record was made in 1975. It’s a glam rock record called Neo City by a band called The Mighty Plod, and it’s me aged about 20 or 21, and it’s pretty good. Then I was in a band called Gypp, we were kind of a space rock band of some sort.  Good music, but we made a record, which was not particularly good. After that, I got a solo deal in 1979 and put out a single called “Young Jobless,” and the B-side of that was called “Sylvie in Toytown,”

The Cleaners from Venus was just a step backwards, really, it wasn’t even a proper studio, it was my old sound machine. It wasn’t until the second one of those albums that I managed to buy a porter studio.

Rocker:  I read something saying you’d had an ‘unsavory experience in the music industry,’ in the 70’s which lead you to fall back into home recording. Is that accurate?

Martin: It’s the usual stuff you hear in the music industry, you have to wade through a lot of the brown stuff before you get to the green stuff.

I was very naïve, and until up about 1980, or ’81, I still roughly had an idea that the music industry was kind of like being in A Hard Day’s Night or The Monkees or something. Andy Partridge thought that.  He said he joined The Pop Group because he thought it would be like being in The Monkees.

Actually, I just think I was the wrong kind of person to go into the music industry. I’m too rebellious, I don’t care about money enough, and I think a lot of what they talk is bullshit. I met some lovely people in the music business, Captain Sensible, Andy Partridge, all these musicians I’ve played with, they’re all right.

Rocker: Your most recent record ‘English Electric’ is self released, why did you self-release it rather than stick with your usual label, Cherry Red?

Martin: Because I thought I’d make more money.

Rocker:  Were you right?

Martin: Yes!  Cherry Red is very nice and Ian is a brilliant guy, but they don’t really have the machinery to promote a record really big, so they really just make it available. If you don’t go out and promote it and get your own press, you aren’t going to get much press with them. So I thought, what if I get this album, put it out on the online shop, sell it, and deliberately don’t send any review copies out, just tell people?  I must have a fan base of sorts, I’ve reasoned. Within a month, I had sold some records and made the making costs back, which was only about 500 quid, and it’s made me more money, just because I sell it for the download, outside of a few hard copies.

I’ve had to evaluate the whole thing of fame and success. That if you make a record, is there any reason why you need to sell two million?  Can’t you just sell 2,000 and move on to the next one and say, “That was all right.”  Run it like a cottage industry. Everything doesn’t have to be big, everything doesn’t have to be international. With things like Dropbox, you can send files for albums through cyberspace.  You wouldn’t have to tour if you didn’t want to, would you?

I don’t want to take over the world, and I’m unlikely to do it, but the songs on English Electric are good to listen to. I’m really liking it. It’s one of my favorite albums of mine. It’s full of good songs, and cheerfulness, and jangles.

Rocker: Is there any sort of music that’s not full of cheerfulness that you dig?

Martin: I have a huge taste for melancholy music, but I don’t like miserable stuff, and I don’t like high art, but every so often some sorrow will become exorcised in me, or exercised, I don’t know which.

Rocker: In my experience as a journalist, I’ve found a lot of the people who make the cheerful music are less cheerful inside, and the people who make the angry music seem cheerful when you meet them.  Is that true for you?

Martin: Yeah, yeah. I think that’s my default setting, one of melancholy. Most of the time, I’m a creator and a builder. I’ve been like that ever since I was a kid, getting into records, pop groups, all that. It’s that thing where you get up in the morning and it’s Saturday…  I was always an enthusiast like that, but there is a melancholy in me, it’s a default setting, really. You can’t reasonably expect to be happy all the time, but there are just some people who seem to be grumpy and miserable,… Ray Davies, Van Morrison and Paul Weller all come to mind…they wouldn’t be out for a night of being stupid in the pub, really. Maybe a night in a pub, but not one of cheery, chappy jokes or anything like that.

Rocker: You’ve had a lifetime making some great pop music but also had a lot of other things going on, your poetry, books,..  are there things artistically you’re really not keen to do?

Martin: You know, I’ve never wanted to be the kind of musician who says, “I want to go back to my roots,” and start playing blues or Celtic stuff or some bollocks like that. I’m not an old black guy, and they’re not my roots, my roots are the Kinks, The Who, The Small Faces, all those guys. I’m really not interested in roots music. I find it very annoying, and boring. “I’m going back to my roots.” What, you mean you picked cotton in the Southern states of America? I don’t think so! You were brought up near Birmingham in the late Fifties! They do it because their palettes get jaded, and that’s all. I think it’s the music industry, stretching its greedy tendrils out too…its cultural tourism, isn’t it, really?

I’ve always just done loads of stuff, so I have writings and recordings, partly because I never got mega-successful. I’ve made a living, but I haven’t had to do a proper job for many years. But because I never got mega-successful, I never got too polluted by the industry, I never got jaded by fame or corrupted by money, and so the boyish enthusiasm with which I first went into doing anything creative, like music or writing, is essentially still there. At the core of me, even though I look in the mirror and see a gray-haired guy with a few lines on his face, underneath that is still a 10-year-old boy or 15-year-old boy saying, “Let’s make a pop group! We’ll put something out! Get some guitars! Go in that garage and make a record!” That person is still there. With many people in the industry, I see that it’s not. I think that when I see certain mega-famous talents being interviewed, I’m not surprised they’ve resorted to the blues or jazz, because blues and jazz are nice, simple, generous enough spaces to hold them. They had everything they wanted, too much, too young, too soon, and they can’t really tally this idea that there’s things they did when they were boys and it’s still what people want them to do now, whereas I’m not being asked to do that, no one’s pressuring me at all. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want. I’ve been lucky that I’ve been quite successful at a number of things, there are people who stop me on the street and say how much they like to read my page about local life, living in this region, and I how write it as if I were writing my last ever article. That’s what it’s like.  I think I’m quite lucky.  I think I’ll be doing this for years to come, writing and mucking about. I have been lucky in that respect, I think I’ve been unpolluted, and I’m still an enthusiast. “Are we not going to make any money doing this?” I say, “That’s even better, because there’s not going to be any extenuating factors.” It’s just going to be getting on with it, seeing what happens, and that’s the most fun, the money is when things start going wrong, I’ve found.

Rocker: Do you have any plans to come to the States to do any touring behind the rerelease?

Martin: No, but I never say never. I thought about it at one point last year, they wanted me to do some gigs in San Francisco, which I quite fancied, and Los Angeles, which I quite didn’t.

I like doing gigs. What I don’t like was the hassle that surrounds it. I don’t think I’m absolutely typical of what a lot of musicians like. Remember, I’m getting on a bit. I don’t feel old, but the fact of the matter is, I’m in my late fifties. Why would you have the same appetites and want the same things as you wanted when you were 20? It was great when I was 20, putting on some lipstick and eye makeup and going out and jumping around for an hour and a half every night in front of a bunch of people. But it would be a bit silly if I did it now.

As for the States, I’ve always thought “If I could sail there, if I could get on a boat and spend a week sailing there…” I just don’t want to get on another plane, not because I’m scared, but because of all the stuff, taking off your shoes and belt, all these questions… I can’t be arsed, really. I don’t care if I don’t leaveEnglandagain, or evenEssex.

 
_____

Martin Newell is a DJ on Radio Wivenhoe , writes for the East Anglican Daily Times  , is the author of a number of books   , and of course plays lots of fine music

 
 

 
Shut Up and Play the Hits
Rare is the band that decides to call it quits long before they’ve worn out their welcome, but at least until the inevitable reunion tour in 2020, that’s what LCD Soundsystem did last year with their farewell performance at Madison Square Garden. Co-directors Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern had seemingly total access to LCD leader James Murphy, not only during the run-up to the final concert, but on the hazy morning after, as Murphy (accompanied by his loyal French bulldog Petunia) contemplates the first day of the rest of his life. Framed by an interview with Chuck Klosterman in which Murphy provides context for his decision, Shut Up and Play the Hits is not a pure concert film, but it does devote roughly half its running time to the Madison Square Garden gig. Despite the title, there’s room to quibble about the omission of some hits (no “Drunk Girls” or “Daft Punk is Playing at My House”), but by the time the band brings down the house with one more chorus of “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down,” all is forgiven.
 
 

 
Under African Skies
Having finally put the Paradise Lost series to rest with the release of the West Memphis Three, documentarian Joe Berlinger lightens up considerably with this rousing tribute to Paul Simon’s classic 1986 album Graceland. Of course, Under African Skies is not entirely free of controversy, as it delves into the political firestorm that erupted when Simon traveled to South Africa to record with local musicians, in defiance of the cultural boycott supported by the UN and the African National Congress. In the doc, Simon sits down with Artists Against Apartheid founder Dali Tambo for a sometimes contentious chat about the controversy, but for the most part, Berlinger’s film is a celebration. Mixing archival footage of the original recording sessions with new interviews and video of Simon’s recent reunion shows with Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the other musicians who collaborated with him on his signature solo work, Under African Skies revels in the pure joy of music-making, untouched by political considerations.
 
 

 
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me
This documentary about the late Alex Chilton’s influential rock band, much loved and revered now but virtually unknown in its heyday, was presented as a work-in-progress, accompanied by stern admonishments that it not be reviewed. Sometimes “work-in-progress” is a code phrase used by publicists to discourage reviews for a movie that’s essentially done, but in this case, it’s evident that Nothing Can Hurt Me is unfinished, so it would be unfair to say much about it at this point. The concert that followed the SXSW screening, an all-star tribute to the band’s final album Third featuring Peter Buck, Tommy Stinson, and Peter Case, among others, was a somewhat ramshackle affair that nevertheless yielded moments of beauty, such as this rendition of “Kizza Me.”

Paul Williams Still Alive –  It’s a funny thing about ‘70s nostalgia: Big Star, a band that barely made a dent in the public consciousness when it was active, now looms large as one of the signature acts of the era, while Paul Williams, the elfin entertainer who practically embodied the ‘70s at the time, is all but forgotten. That should change with the release of this entertaining and surprisingly moving documentary by Stephen Kessler (The Independent). Growing up in the Me Decade, Kessler was a big fan of Williams, who was not only the songwriter behind some of the biggest AM radio hits of the day (“Rainy Days and Mondays,” “Evergreen”), but a ubiquitous presence on television, making frequent guest appearances on The Tonight Show, Hollywood Squares, and The Gong Show, as well as primetime hits like Police Woman, Baretta, and The Love Boat. Williams then disappeared so completely, Kessler assumed he was dead, but as it turned out, Williams was on the road to recovery after battling addiction for many years. As Kessler catches up with Williams on the road, a friendship gradually develops – a process that unfolds with remarkable candor and transparency in the documentary, which is as much about itself as its subject. Kessler’s film is compassionate, uncondescending, and ultimately exhilarating as it reclaims Williams from the scrap heap of pop culture punchlines.

This film is playing at The Independent Film Festival Boston – for tickets, click here