A Stray Cat Struts (29 page)

 

22

The Boys in the Band

A lot of guys have sold more records and had more money, more girls, and more drugs, but not with the same combination of varying adventures as the Stray Cats. Country guys stay with country guys, rock guys stay with rock guys, actors stay with actors. The Stray Cats and I in particular have straddled all these fences.

The other two have never been close. Lee thinks that Brian has tried to rewrite history to make it seem like the Stray Cats was all him and we were like a backing band. Brian thinks Lee has an overinflated opinion of his own place in rock-and-roll history. I don't care about any of it. It's a hundred years later, and people still care about something we came up with when we were kids. There are still new fans every year. At this point, I just want to play, earn, and have fun—back to the basics. On any given night, there are three different bands on a stage somewhere in the world, each with one member of the Stray Cats playing a different version of “Rock This Town.” I'm sure they are all pretty good; they are excellent musicians and full-on pros. But I feel in my heart that none are as good as if we three were doing it together. I really do love my guys and want nothing more than to play with them, earn a good payday, and cement our legacy as the best rockabilly band ever.

I like to remember everything in a positive light. Let's be honest: if anyone can find any way to complain about the details of being a rock star, it's pretty sad and petty. We are one in a million, and if you add rockabilly to the mix, we are one in ten million. I try to keep the early hunger and excitement as close as I can. I know none of this would have happened exactly like it did if we hadn't all played those gigs and gone to those record stores and thrift shops on Long Island in 1979. No one can tell, maybe the others would have made it on their own, but not in the legendary way the Stray Cats did. I do not live in the past, nor do I deny it. I embrace the memory and move ahead. I am proud of our achievements. I do think we should take the old car out for a spin once in a while; it still runs great and looks cool. In the long-term sense, we blew it a long time ago.

The other two are more gifted in a technical, musical way than I am. They always have been. I have never been a soloist, but I do feel that my style of drumming and spirit helped them both get to their best. I feel it was a total team effort, but I love the team the most. The others would never have done anything they didn't want to do. We all benefited from the band, but I think I did the most to hold it together and was the most hurt when it split up in 1985. I think that's part of being the drummer.

I was devastated, personally and in a career sense, but quickly moved on. Lee and I got busy right away. Then we reformed it in 1988, but it was never the same. We had lost valuable momentum, and although we did some of our best songwriting and live shows between 1988 and 1992, the real opportunity to become a truly important band had passed. We could have really rewritten the book with the right record after
Rant N' Rave
. At the time, in late 1984, Brian didn't think I was up to the task, although I don't think he gave me the right chance. He had a vision at the time for what he wanted to sound like and I feel was looking for a way to do it on his own. After everything we had been through and achieved, he was ready to pack the whole thing in after a few very impromptu coke-and-booze-fueled rehearsals. He seemed to almost want it to go badly so he could break up the band with a clean conscience. He had me feeling that I wasn't musically up to his new vision. I think he has always wanted to be a solo artist. He's not a band guy, and the time spent with the Cats, which had equal voting rights, did not come naturally to him. It's frustrating to me to have wanted to tell him for thirty years that all I ever wanted from him was for him to be in his own band. He is older than I am by two years, and it doesn't matter now, but when one guy is fifteen and one guy is seventeen, it does matter, and it stays with you. Since we were kids, I've always looked up to the guy and wanted his approval. He was the best guitar player in New York, and he was from my same school and Little League. And as a kid, I always wanted to play with him. When we discovered rockabilly around the same time, I got the chance to work with him as an equal.

Lee and I had played together since we were twelve years old and agreed on most things. In that regard, the two-against-one vibe was definitely created by Brian. Lee and I would have never broken up the band. We would have both ridden out any bumpy patches. I felt Brian was open to listen to the first people who got in his ear and told him he should go solo the first time. We should have circled the wagons and have been closer at that time. I accept my part in it but would have never left the band. It's a common hindsight, but we should have just taken off a few months.

Brian and I have the same horoscope sign, and Lee and I were born in the same year in the Chinese zodiac. So that throws astrology completely out the window. We are all very different characters. We agree on how great Gene Vincent was and how good we are. I wish we discussed these more positive things more often.

I don't follow either of their solo careers. I'm not very computer savvy. A funny contradiction I've noticed with the whole rockabilly scene is that for a bunch of people who crave the lifestyle of a bygone era, they have really embraced the Internet and all modern ways of gossiping, snooping, and snarky commentary. In the past, a disgruntled fan would have to write a letter and lick a stamp and an envelope in order to express some clumsily veiled jealousy toward a band he or she secretly worships. We three do all agree on this one. The rare times I speak with them, I enjoy talking to each of them. We inevitably wind up talking about something or someone from when we were growing up in Massapequa. There is always one time in every conversation where I genuinely crack up with laughter, and when I hang up the phone, I always wonder what happened and what could be so bad that we don't do this more often. The other two tend to remember unhappier moments. Maybe it's my drummer's naïveté and glass-half-full optimism.

I have rarely ever listened to a solo record by either of them. It's too hard for me to be objective. When I do hear a track, I recognize their styles immediately and know their records are going to be good if for no other reason than that they are both super-talented guys. For me, the records I've heard lack the X factor of the Stray Cats, regardless of how many copies have been sold. I don't think they are as good as the records we did make or the records we could have made. These are very unspecific regrets, I know. I won't talk about their personal lives. I was very hurt when Brian called to tell me the band was over by a phone call. I thought then and still believe it was a shabby way to end it.

In 1985, I didn't have the life skills or technique to navigate this properly. I was twenty-four years old and had spent my entire adult life up until then in the Stray Cats—it was all I knew. I slammed the phone down and yelled. I didn't speak to Brian for two years. I know he felt at the time that I couldn't musically handle his vision for his new musical direction—which in the end was straight-up rock music that I could've easily handled. I wish we had given it more of a chance, because the next record would have been the one that really proved something to the world and us. If we had combined what would appear on both his and our solo records, it would have pushed rockabilly forward again. I think I proved on the
Phantom, Rocker & Slick
record that I could handle regular rock music. I felt insecure about my playing for a while, but I haven't for a long time. Perhaps I had to make that album to prove something to myself. I have learned to embrace my own style and technique, but am not sure if I would have got there without doing that first
Phantom, Rocker & Slick
album. Further proof for me that although sometimes unwanted, everything happens for a reason.

From 1979 to 1985, I can never remember a serious band meeting type of discussion in the Stray Cats. When we reformed in 1988, we had a few talks, but nothing too serious. It's a real New York trait to not talk about anything personally uncomfortable or serious. It spans all types of people and I think is a regional phenomenon. The eight-hundred-pound gorilla is a common guest at many dinner tables in New York. Reforming seemed like the obvious thing to do, so we did. The three of us are still, at the end of the day, instinctual guys, the others even more so than I am. I was thrilled, and it was one of those rare times in life when you really know your life choice is the correct one in that exact moment. There was no doubt for me in this instance. It all happened when we started communicating a little, and we reunited without much fanfare or “I love you, man” moments. I think some of our best work was in this time period. Any live performance that I happen upon is blazing and musically a bit more sophisticated than the performances from the early 1980s. We made a groundbreaking album with
Blast Off
. Dave Edmunds was back in the producer's chair. It holds up against anything today. We were upset when it didn't do better in the charts. We expected to pick up right where we had left off. We left EMI and did two more albums without the chart or radio success we were looking for. Nile Rodgers, who I became close with, produced one. It was during the making of this record that I quit drinking. The live shows were always strong, and in Europe we did big festivals.

I find the other two guys to be more similar than either of them would like to admit. They are both concerned mainly with having their own names on the marquee. Besides the Cats, neither of them has ever been in an equal band situation. I've always preferred the band/gang mentality; maybe it's part of being the drummer. Most drummer guys I know have similar feelings. I'm not an elevated Zen guy. I'm still the “youthful and hotheaded” guy that Harry Dean told me I was. I've acquired more calm along the way, but it's still New York peeled nerve right below the surface. It may be deeper now, but it's still there. I did quit drinking and drugging about twenty-five years ago. There was no spectacular last flameout; I just hit the wall and couldn't do it anymore. Ten years of constant partying and maintaining a buzz had worn me down.

When I bottomed out, I knew it; it was very clear, and it wasn't that hard to continue not drinking after the initial first month or so. Now I don't know another way of life. I've accidentally developed some life skills and don't get wound up in traffic. Sometimes I wonder how I got along. I did have my adventures in partying and kept up with the best, but I am ultimately happy that I got out when I did. I could not have done the things I've done since if I had continued drinking. I sometimes think I wouldn't have made it to thirty, but I had my fun and got out with no lasting mental or physical damage.

With no intended irony, I had my last drink, by myself, at On the Rocks in September 1990. In one last drunken act of choreography, I fell down the stairs, hit the door handle on the way down, and rolled into the street. The next day, I didn't drink. I called a rock-and-roll buddy who I remembered didn't drink and still seemed to have fun. I stopped going to bars and, after a month or so, knew I couldn't do it again. My life changed for the better. I have experienced every type of setback in sobriety, but I do believe that if I continued the way I was going, I wouldn't have been able to handle any of it. Regular, everyday life is hard enough, as it is for everyone I know. There have been breakups with bands and girls, financial highs and lows, broken bones, and broken hearts, but these too will pass. There is the chance of not even making it that far. It doesn't have to be a health issue. Drinking and drugging puts you in strange places and situations that you'd not normally be in. You can only roll the dice so many times before you crap out. I would've walked in front of a bus or driven off the side of Mulholland Drive or slipped in the shower. A few partying acquaintances fell by the wayside, but I'm still friends with 99 percent of the people that I was friends with when I drank, plus a few new ones; a true pal is a true pal.

The Stray Cats have gotten back together a few times and have had real positive reactions to the gigs—a 2004 European tour that saw us sell out Brixton Academy in London twice, the Zénith in Paris, the Heineken Music Hall in Amsterdam, and the Helsinki Ice Hall in Finland, where we set the single-night house record for merchandise sold. I saw these as triumphant returns to the world capitals that we had played and conquered in the early 1980s. Maybe now we could get paid and not sweat the small stuff. We could enjoy a more relaxed time with just a great show to be concerned with. In the past, we had TV and radio station appearances on the day of the show, harder travel, and constant partying to worry about. We really did cause a stir both onstage and offstage in these places.

A USA tour in 2007 with ZZ Top and the Pretenders was the best summer anyone could remember. Hootenanny in LA in 2003 was an affirming show, as we headlined the biggest rockabilly-themed festival at the time in the USA. TJ, Madison, and the other Stray Cat kids were all at these shows, and it was great seeing them all grown up and hanging out together on the side of the stage during the gigs. This whole event had sprung up around the scene we had created. An oversold Orange County Fair in 2009 was a memorable one for the band and fans. This was the last time we played a show in California. I thought a sold-out tour of Australia in 2010 was the beginning of a more frequent reunion that would happen when the offers and everyone's schedules matched. I never thought we were going to make a new record or start a third part of our career; I know that ship has sailed, but I did think we could take the whole thing out every few years. There is a brand-new generation of rockabilly fans, and we are still the best. A new counterculture has blossomed in our absence from regular touring. There is a big hot-rod, 1950s-based lifestyle scene out there on every continent. Other bands and promoters have stepped in to fill the gap, and a few do very well at it. I firmly believe the Cats have always been and continue to be the main inspiration and best representation of this movement. We did the heavy lifting and made it safe to bring this music and style back into the mainstream. Now it should be easier to benefit from all that hard work, but that has not been the case. We have still been unable to fully commit to a new project.