QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “I remember being fascinated by all the leaves and all the trees coming to a point. Everything seemed to come to a point. And I thought, ‘Everything seems to have one. Therefore, I must have one, too!’”
— Harry Nilsson

SONG OF THE WEEK: “You Are A Rocketship”
— Lifestyle Of Wigs

The Skeletons
Live At The Amador 1979
(Almeron Records, 2004)

Alt-Country hipsters are already wise to the fab stage antics and rock-solid studio rep of Springfield, Missouri bar-busters The Skeletons—in the past couple of years, they’ve backed such luminaries of the biz as Syd Straw and Dave Alvin, and, in 2003, cut a highly rated record with Milwaukee son John Seiger (of Semi-Twang fame) called Her Country: The Songs Of Michael Feldman. But the history and legacy of The Skeletons—D. Clinton Thompson, Lou Whitney, Bobby Lloyd Hicks, and keyboard player Nick Sibley—goes far back into the mists of time and is, it’s fair to say, completely ingrained in the cosmic rock ’n’ roll consciousness by now. Formed “... on a cold Sunday afternoon in February, 1979 ...” by Whitney and Thompson, who’d played together for five years or so previously, the band immediately began scraping its hearty roots against more famous, like-minded compadres. They hooked up with former Ozark Mountain Daredevil (“Jackie Blue,” “If You Want To Get To Heaven (You’ve Got To Raise A Little Hell)” Randy Chowning and Bobby Lloyd Hicks, who had performed together in the Randle Chowning Band, and were soon the talk of the Springfield club scene. Wild, lascivious stage shows (they were performing in their pj’s long before Jeff Tweedy or that Punk Rock Breakfast thingie at 7th Street Entry) were the order of the day; and killer covers, smart originals, and a genuine, infectious love of all things rock ’n’ roll separated the outfit from other bar bands of the era. Spandex, eyeliner and drum machines were shunned in favor of worn blue jeans, T-shirts and—er—gorilla masks. All four original members shared a love for ’50s and ’60s rock, pop and country, particularly “B” sides and rare cuts from the likes of Gene Vincent, Sanford Clark and Little Milton. They came up with the name The Skeletons because, at the time, their musical equipment options were “skeletal,” and, well, because “... everybody has one.” Skeleton, that is. They played the Missouri-Kansas-Arkansas circuit around their hometown of Springfield for a few months before Randy bowed out to work on his second solo album. He was soon replaced by talented multi-instrumentalist Nick Sibley (guitar, keys, harmonica), after which the band took on a slightly more pop persona. In the late summer of ‘79, singer/songwriter Steve Forbert (“Romeo’s Tune,” plus literally dozens of other great, great songs) was in Nashville finishing his second album, Jackrabbit Slim, which featured a fellow former Springfield-ian, guitarist Jon Goin. When Steve invited Jon to go on the road to help promote the record, he had to decline because of a full recording schedule. Without hesitation, though, Goin advised Steve to contact one “Donnie” Thompson (That being D. Clinton, ya know) up in Springfield. Needless to say, Donnie passed the audition, along with the tight Whitney/Hicks rhythm section, and the tour was good to go. Unfortunately, since Forbert already had a great keyboard player in Paul Errico (just listen to those key runs on “Romeo’s Tune,” you’ll ken why immediately), Nick Sibley couldn’t join the tour. On August 18, 1979, the night before Donnie, Lou and Bobby Lloyd headed for NYC (pretty damned excited, too, I would imagine!) with Steve Forbert, the Skeletons “put it to bed for awhile” with this performance at the Amador Mining Company in Springfield, Mo. And yes, they all wore pajamas. Featuring virtually all of the group’s live staples, including such classics as “Who Shot Sam,” “Slaughter on 10th Ave,” “Nervous Breakdown,” “Little Girl,” and an absolutely blistering rendition of The Count Five scorcher, “Psychotic Reaction,” this is probably one of the band’s premier live moments, caught forever on tape for your wonder, shock and enjoyment. This is why Steve Forbert hired this band. This is why they’ve appeared on scads of records from so many folks you love and admire. This is why we go to live rock ’n’ roll shows, kids. Luckily, this historic gig was recorded—albeit through the soundboard to one track of a stereo reel-to-reel recorder—and the tape was mixed to mono. And there it sat, waiting for some true-hearted, music-lovin’ maniac (with a few duckets at their disposal) to come along. And then, voila! The Rock Starz finally aligned, and the Right Person tripped into the right place at the right time.

Longtime fan Tom Taber, upon receiving a copy in 2003, lovingly restored the recording to its present, brilliant shine over many long months with his JVC SEA 80 graphic equalizer, and after getting permission from the band, released a limited edition of 1,000 copies last year. Or, as he says, “Just enough for about one out of every 300,000 Americans, or one for every six million residents of the planet. If you got one, consider yourself lucky!”

To get your grubby mitts on your very own copy, send an e-mail to Tom at tomtaber_14411@yahoo.com or write Almeron Records, 344 West State Street, Albion, NY 14411. Sadly, the band’s first three official albums (1987’s Rockin’ Bones, 1988’s In The Flesh, and 1992’s Waiting) are all currently out of print, but you can still pick up their 1997 HighTone release, Nothing To Lose, online. The Skeletons still record and perform today (and rock like sweaty beasts in heat!), so if you get your chance to see ‘em live, you best take it, boogie chillun. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Whooshhh!! Man, that was a close call! I was mighty tempted to stick a spanner in the works here on the ol’ Ergo© and just stay back in 1979 with The Skeletons, drinkin’ Billy Beer an’ watching Punk Rock ooze across America like a slow, inexorable influx of rock ’n’ roll vitamins, I tellyou whut. But hell, then I’d miss the next Bob Dylan tour and the DVD issues of Deadwood, so let’s steer this monster back to the 21st Century, with a little side trip to Minneapolis in the spring of 2004, shall we?

Brice
Cabin Capers
(Self-Released, 2004)

Twin Cities quintet Brice describe themselves as “Five childhood friends living in Minneapolis ... bringing diverse influences to an energetic pop band.” And that’s not an altogether inaccurate overview, although after a few spins, I’d say it’s a pretty generic description of a band that All Music Guide calls “Electronica” (ack), and whose turbulent, rhythmic modern music seems influenced by everybody from Brian Eno to The Buzzcocks to The Cars. Me, I’d say they were a brave, experimental, slightly trippy, highly entertaining mod-pop outfit. Their website (Brice612.com) features a photo of the band (Bill Blaszczak on acoustic guitar, bass and vocals; Jon Drankwalter on trumpet, keys and vocals; Andy Gustafson on bass, acoustic guitar and vocals; Sam Hoolihan on drums and Brad Thompson on electric guitar), decked out in business suits, seated around a meeting table in some nondescript office or boardroom, probably a snapshot of where they’ll all be in five years. For now, though, you can catch ‘em around town as they lay down their absolutely scrumptious mix of pretty pop, slicing guitar rock, angelic vocals, and smart songwriting. Cabin Capers, a 10-song collection, is so professional, so tight, so together, that the first time I stuck it in, it was over before I knew it. A couple of plays later, I already had at least three faves from the batch—the easy, charming roll of the bass-heavy “Bronty,” which simultaneously recalls the free-for-all abandon of The Vaselines and the snarky guitars of The Pixies or Sonic Youth, the absolutely triumphant “Sticks Franklin,” which brilliantly matches that aforementioned trumpet with pounding rhythms, driving guitars and melancholy lyrics to gel into something akin to The Waterboys meeting The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and the breezy, lilting semi-ballad “True Love,” a track that made me just as wistful about loves lost and found as it did the demise of Minneapolis electro-whizzers12 Rods. But hey, part of that legacy lives on here, and I’m betting that this is just the beginning for Brice—whether you dub it “energetic pop,” “electronica,” or just plain old meat-and-potatoes rock ’n’ roll (Er—make that free range chicken, organic spuds and a heaping, healthy side of green salad, anyway) served up piping hot with a huge glass of sugary iced tea, it all boils down to the same thing—damn tasty musical vittles.

GIG OF THE WEEK

Don’t miss dB’s founder Chris Stamey and his band the Chris Stamey Experience (Anton Fier, John Chumbers and Tyson Rogers) this Saturday, April 23 as they play a rare date at Lee’s Liquor Lounge in Minneapolis. Stamey, who’s been more ubiquitous behind the scenes for the past few years (producing the likes of Whiskeytown and Le Tigre) than in front of an audience, is celebrating the release of his second album in as many years, A Question Of Temperature. Highly recommended.

That’s it for this week’s adventures, lads ’n’ lassies—tune in again for one more blast in the Ergo© Time Machine, and then it’s back to DVD reviews and a peek at some inside rock ’n’ roll happenings. Until then—make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news/gigs/events/CDs you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’d just like to hip me to your own favorite classic underground garage/backing band, send replies to: (NEW E-MAIL!) Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com.