Sometimes things just make sense. Believe it or not, Cream playing Madison Square Garden 37 years or so after calling it quits makes sense. Forget about any reviews you may have read stating that they have mellowed or other nonsense like that. This was - and is - the premier rock trio. Bass, drums, guitar. Bingo. And it most definitely is the best showcase for the man that I truly feel is the face of rock guitar. And I was not going to miss this chance to see this reunion.
The drummer in my band, Tom Ryan, hates Cream. He argues that the "blues rock" genre that they created spawned some incredibly lame bands and by doing so tainted the sanctuary of the blues. Well the truth of the matter is that almost all modern blues bands suck. It is incredibly difficult to play the blues, not in the fact that the form is difficult to play but rather that to actually "play" the blues requires something that goes beyond the ability to play an instrument. It requires a complete understanding of the human condition required to actually have the blues. Don't confuse this with "having the right to sing the blues" as the song goes. We all experience tragedy in our lifetimes, some much more than others. While this may give you the right to "sing the blues" (ie, whine), it doesn't give you the ability to play the blues. That ability only belongs to the rare individual who can translate the feeling of that pain - whether it be drowning in it, rejoicing in it or rejecting it - into his playing. It doesn't matter if the pain is even his. The blues is story telling on a grand scale. Some people can do a great job of faking this, and sometimes with the best intentions. They study the masters and play authentically on their prized vintage instruments. They dress the part and even try to live the way they think a bluesman should live. They talk blues talk. They are the musical equivalent to reduced fat foods. It just ain't the real thing, no matter how much you convince yourself that you can't taste the difference. Eric Clapton is the real thing. He may not bring it every night, but when he does there is just nobody better.
I have friends who don't agree with this and I understand. I don't mean to make a claim that Clapton is the best guitarist. I have stood in wonder at others - watching Jeff Beck seemingly bend time and space along with his strings, being lured into a Nashville club by the sound of Johnny Hiland and sitting transfixed for hours, being blown away by Chris Spedding channeling Scotty Moore and too many more to count. I liken it to Derek Jeter. No, he's not the greatest shortstop of all time. Yes, he's the first guy I would pick for my team.
A few songs into the show on Tuesday the band seemed to be sputtering a bit through "Spoonful." Then Eric's solo came around and as he dug into it, you could feel the audience being carried along. At the end of that solo, I felt that I had just seen perhaps the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed in over 35 years of attending concerts. Then they played "Stormy Monday." Now, I don't remember "Stormy Monday" being a Cream song. Perhaps they played somewhere back when. But it certainly is a blues song and I know that I have never heard Clapton sing or play anything as good as the version they played that night.
There were plenty of other highlights and not all belonged to EC. Jack Bruce sounded amazing. His playing is still fluid and lyrical and his voice was strong. I have always felt that the Bruce and Clapton made one of the great harmony duos. I wish they had played "Dance The Night Away" which showcases this, but it didn't make the cut.
Somehow "Pressed Rat And Warthog" did.
Ginger Baker sounded great. His solo in "Toad" was a blast! I can't remember the last time I sat through a drum solo - and I don't really look forward to the next one - but he certainly can play, mostly working the toms on the kit, always swinging, and bringing on occasional blasts of fury to much huzzah from the crowd.
Ahh, the crowd. Let me tell you, it was three nights of serious regression therapy at MSG! The mostly male, mostly 50ish audience treated the band with well deserved respect. Most of the guys in attendance had that "I can't believe I'm out on a Tuesday night and drinking a beer!" look in their eyes. There was much marijuana in the air, as decade-old joints that were being saved for special reasons were broken out in record numbers. Then there were the many old guys sporting long gray pony tails. Who are these guys? Where do they go during the day? They can't all be working in record stores or comic book shops. I have heard that Jack Bruce is in failing health and this all may have come about because of his troubles. Then again, there were all those "Ginger Baker is dead" rumors. Whatever the reason, I'm glad it happened, I'm glad I spent a stupid amount of money on the seat - and yes it was worth it.
Iain and I listened to a lot of different music back then. We were heavy into the British blues scene - Johh Mayall, The Groundhogs, Savoy Brown, Fleetwood Mac and the like. We listened to the source as well - getting into Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Howlin' Wolf and guitar heros like BB King and Freddie King. We also dug a lot of the early prog bands including Genesis, Jethro Tull and Yes, as well as lesser known bands like Man, Gentle Giant and Can. We listened to the British folk bands such as Fairport Convention and the Strawbs. We dug some of the American groups as well - Little Feat and the Allman Brothers. We also began a lifelong love affair with reggae, basically starting with the soundtrack to "The Harder They Come." So many different types of music landed on our turntables back then. It was a very exciting time.
But when you got to the core of it, the music closest to our hearts was that of the original big bang of pop music - the British invasion of the early 60s. The Who and The Kinks were our big two right through the seventies and into the eighties. We loved the Beatles and Stones, of course, but to us the Searchers, The Hollies and Gerry and The Pacemakers stood on equal ground. I know for me, and probably for Iain as well, this was the music that defined us - at least the music that was the soundtrack to the formative years of our lives.
I didn't come from a musical family, not in the sense that my parents or siblings played an instrument. My brothers were almost ten years older than me and since they grew up as teenagers in the late 1950s/early 1960s, music certainly played a part in their lives as well. They didn't have a huge record collection, but there were plenty of 45s in the house and a few LPs, mostly pre-invaision teen idol stuff - Frankie Avalon, Four Freshmen and, of course, Elvis. I took up trumpet as a kid in grade school and began to get an understanding of music, but it wasn't until that fateful Sunday evening - February 9th, 1964 - that everything became clear to me.
I was nine years old in 1964. I loved listening to the radio, everything about it seemed almost magical. This music that came out of the air, the DJs with their crazy names - Mad Daddy, Cousin Brucie - signature catch phrases, swamped in reverb and the constant changes brought along by the weekly top ten. I would lie in bed on Tuesday nights, under the covers with the radio and a flashlight, diligently copying down the weekly top ten in my black and white notebook. The music was exciting at times - story songs like "Running Bear" and "Big Bad John," a Jimmy Dean song about JFK PT boat experience, were among my favorites - but it was apparent that things were changing. The DJs were getting excited about something called "The Beatles." It was obvious that this was a big deal - but I was confused about exactly what the deal was all about. They talked about "Beatle Wigs" and shouted "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" and my eight year old brain couldn't quite process all this information so I did what eight year olds do - I asked my mother what all this Beatle stuff was about.
She said, "You'll understand this Sunday. They are going to be on the Ed Sullivan Show."
I loved Ed Sullivan. Sunday nights were all about Walt Disney and Ed Sullivan. The whole family usually was in front of the TV set for the Sullivan show. You would see it all - music, theater, acrobats, puppets (I loved Topo Gigio!), comics, impressionists - it all came together on that show. But outside of Elvis - we had never seen anything like what we were about to see.
My story is one that you have probably heard many, many times before. All I can tell you is that is 100 percent true.
I remember sitting on the floor in front of the television when they came on, opening the show. By the time they took their first bow at the end of "All My Loving" my life had changed forever. I knew what I was going to do, amazing, since I didn't even know you could do something like this. I wanted - no, I needed a guitar. Right now. And I needed more Beatles - and thanks to the radio and good old fashioned supply and demand - I got it. The radio began pumping out a seemingly non-stop parade of British pop, all of which I absorbed like a sponge and retain a loving respect for to this very day.
I didn't get that guitar right away, but that didn't stop me from assembling a "group" that would mime to Beatle songs in the playground during recess at school. Eventually my folks gave in and bought me my first guitar, which was actually a pretty decent acoustic guitar made in Italy. We were inseparable. I didn't want to do anything except play that guitar. I was about 14 now and it was 1969 so the music scene had changed quite a bit. In retrospect the trip from "Meet The Beatles" to "Let It Be" happened in the blink of eye. I had many other influences now, including the new crop of guitar heros like Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton. Soon I began to make noise about getting an ELECTRIC guitar and as soon as I had my hands on that, there was only one thing to do - start a band.
I had met Iain by now, and became the lead singer in our first group. We played some of the blues stuff that we listening to like Fleetwood Mac's "Black Magic Woman" and lots of riff-based songs like the Kink's "You're Looking Fine." We played at a few "battle of the bands" type of events and at the local teen center. We had a few different names - Halfnelson and Gun Hill Road - which were both used later on by recording groups. It was great fun.
Years later, during the punk explosion of the seventies, a group of friends decided that we would form a punk band. Since I played guitar, I would be the guitar player. Jon Arm, who had some marching band experience, would play drums. A college friend of Jon's, Eammon Bowles, was going to be the lead singer so Iain decided to pick up the bass, completing band and thus the Fabians were born. Iain became quite a capable bassist in almost no time and Eammon turned out to be a good songwriter. We played CBGBs and Max's and became a tight little outfit, especially after Jon left and was replaced on drums by Roger Murdock. Eammon and Roger are still playing together in the critically acclaimed NYC band The Martinets, which also includes Dave Rick (ex-Bongwater) and Daniel Rey (who produced the Ramones and Joey Ramone's solo effort).
The Fabians carried on for a while and we had an early recording session which was never released. One of our show's at Max's was recorded, with Roger on drums, and it's quite a spunky performance. I can't remember what exactly brought the Fabians to an end, but this is where the Mosquito story begins.
Next: The Buzz Begins!
In the past week, a part of my past came up randomly a couple of times. My uncle Francis is in the hospital and I stopped by for a visit. Francis - we call him Chechi - is a very social guy and had not only made friends with the fellow in the next bed, but seemed to know his entire family on a first-name basis. Apparently one of his room mate's sons was a musician and Uncle Chechi took it upon himself to mention that I was a ex-member of The Mosquitos. Turns out this guy was a fan from way back and told me how he used to sneak into Sparks to watch us play. He told his dad that, "The Mosquitos were one of the biggest bands from Long Island" and that "back in the 80's it was all about The Mosquitos and Zebra." Well, I don't know about that, but it certainly impressed my wife.
Then a few days later I get an email from Bill Jones asking about including The Mosquitos on a video compilation. Bill and I exchange emails now and then, and he inspired me to put together a CD of some Mosquito material which was to be part of a "retrospective" - a project that seems always to be on my to-do list.
It is pretty nice to know that people actually cared - and still care - about this little part of my life. It was obvious back then, but I never really fully understood how much that band meant to some people until I had conversations with them years later. Sometimes it wasn't so much about the music but rather a special time in their lives and in other cases it is all about the music. Either way it makes me feel good to be a part of it. Blair Buscareno, who wrote some especially touching articles on the band and is now playing in bands of his own - The Miscreants and The Coal Gems, actually claims that The Mosquitos "changed his life." I believe it's said that if you can make a positive difference in one child's life then you have accomplished a miracle, making me one step closer to sainthood. Thanks, Blair!
I'm sure you have heard the phrase "there are three sides to every story - his, hers and the truth." When you are in a band, you are in a relationship with multiple partners, so you can expand that out to as many stories as there are band members, ex-band members, wives, ex-wifes, friends and lovers. it gets a bit cloudy at times to be sure. But since there seem to be a few people who might be interested in reading one of those stories, I thought that I would dedicate some blog time to The Mosquitos, starting at the beginning. Tell your friends and keep those cards and letters coming.
