THE SHIRTS: Out On The Ropes In Brooklyn

"Only the dead know Brooklyn."

—Thomas Wolfe

The author of Look Homeward, Angel wasnt talking about the Grateful Dead or even The Living Dead. He was asserting that unless youre a bonafide lifeless corpse, you cant begin to comprehend the myriad of neighborhoods, intersections and subway stops that comprise Brooklyn, borough of Kings and, if you believe the local chamber of commerce, the fourth largest city in the U.S.A.

Last'time I ventured into Brooklyn was three years ago to see a 1928 silent film about Rasputin, featuring actual footage of The Mad Monk. The picture was shown in someones Park Slope apartment while unwanted children cowered in the hallway. Even at that, it was an event I had prepared for days in advance, somehow envisioning a trip to Brooklyn as a voyage to the Underworld. Id packed a picnic basket with large amounts of food, narcotics and alcohol—and that was just for the walk to the subway.

Now its the changing of the decade and a band called The Shirts is playing in Brooklyn. Veterans of CBGBs halcyon days, crossover successes at such pop meccas as The Bottom Line and purveyors of two Capitol albums, The Shirts are returning to their own, their native territory. Yes, The Shirts are from Brooklyn—may God have mercy on their souls.

"Annie was drinking in a bar one night in Bay Ridge," recalls Shirts guitarist Ronnie Ardito. "This big guy, very smashed, was singing along with the jukebox at the top of his voice. Annie had played some Stones' songs and she couldnt hear em. So she went over to this guy, grabbed him and started singing the same songs right into his ear. He said, “Hey, you got a great voice, you oughta be in a band. Pretty soon she was. That was the start of The Shirts." Only in Brooklyn, right?

The big guy was Artie LaMonica, now lead guitarist of The Shirts. Annie, in case you were bom yesterday or didnt see the movie Ha/r, is Annie Golden, a precocious, sawed-off dynamo who gives the band a central identifying image that affords them the freedom to create powerful, often complex, musical forms. Shes also one hell of a rock n roll singer.

Not that she looks it in the upstairs dressing room of the Brooklyn College auditorium on this rain-drenched late afternoon. Having survived the hour-long, ludicrously crowded subway ride to Flatbush Avenue (only got thrown off the train once), Im not sure what I was expecting to meet. Certainly not this puckish, toothsome character adorned in a floral smock thats one part hausfrau and one part HaightAshbury thrift shop.

"Youre from CREEM, eh?" she says, shaking my hand firmly while Im still trying to squeeze the rain out of my Adidas. "I suppose youre going to write a sarcastic, cynical story about a woman singing with an all-male band, and then illustrate it with photos that have smartass CREEM captions." Well, at least shes heard about us.

Actually, Annie is in the midst of something. As band members and roadies trickle in and out of the institutionalized dressing room, shes been filling out a popstar questionnaire for 16 Magazine. Only trouble is, this seven-page mimeographed form is designed with male popstars in mind since its generally the likes of Shaun Cassidy and Leif Ganrett who get written up in that mags pages. Annie is undaunted. She answers each question exactly as its written, not bothering to transpose the sexes. So shes responding to questions like: "When you have a date with a beautiful girl, what do you bring along?" Or "What do you look for in a girl to whom you are attracted?* Pretty interesting.

Sometimes on stage I could Just kill myself.

-Ronnie Ardito

Annie pauses, calls attention to her outfit. "This is a long dress from my hippie days. Whenever I wear it, I take a lot of abuse from the band." But the boys wander by, checking their instruments, digging in an ice-filled trash can for Budweiser, loading up paper plates with lasagna. If anything, their attitude toward Annie seems one of protective non-disturbance.

Back to the questionnaire. Annie prints in a firm, childish hand:

Your all-time idol: Judy Garland.

Your current idol: David Bowie.

Most embarrassing moment: Splitting my pants onstage.

Would you date a fan? I do.

Do you have a car? Ive had all The Cars.

Unlike The Cars, The Shirts have had some particularly rough going just to get where they are today. Together seven years, they were the last of the seminal CBGBs bands to sign a record contract. Now, two LPs later, theyre just beginning to emerge from the stigma of being a New York cult group. A promotional trip to Europe and a cross-country tour—the bands first—taking in Detroit and the Whiskey in L. A. have done a lot to broaden the groups audience.

"Believe it or not," says guitarist Ardito, "were right about where we figured to be at this time." Annie sums it up even better: "The Shirts are like a tank—slow but sure."

Two years ago, there was speculation among observers of the no wave scene that the tank might be permanently sidetracked. Annie had taken time off to do a Broadway revival of Hair (a flop), followed by the film version directed by Milos Forman, who had signed her after catching one Shirts set at CBGBs. But Annie never stopped being a Shirt and her new-found reputation as a movie star wound up increasing the bands saleability.

Over the years, The Shirts have also derived some tricks and techniques to help them over the rough spots. "We have this scale," explains Ardito, "called DTL— Despair Tolerance Level. Its a way of checking out our minute-by-minute feelings about despair and encouraging one another when were down." He shrugs. "We have to do something to maintain our sanity."

In the same vein, the group has devised a priority list labeled "Shirts Levels Of Importance." It reads:

1. Yankees.

2. Daily Crossword.

3. Must say "Im going mad" five times a day.

4. Dial-A-Joke.

5. Ask about contracts.

6. Buy stereo.

Tonight we go out on the ropes To leave it all behind. Tonight we go out on the ropes, There isnt any time. You told me so. *

The Shirts are about to go onstage. Their opening act, and close friends, The Laughing Dogs, are finishing up an enthusiastic set. Annie, freshly made up, dressed in t-shirt and tight jeans and looking terrific, stands in the wings.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 41

"Hows your DTL?"

She grins. "You heard about that, huh? Its low. But once I get out there, itll be high."

Annie is reminded that the World Series is going on. If the Yankees were in contention, would The Shirts be playing this engagement?

"Absolutely," she answers. "Last year when the Yanks were in the Series, we played CBGBs and we had a television set on the stage while we were performing. We didnt want to miss it."

"Whos your favorite Yankee?"

Annie bows her head. "Deceased. Thurman Munson."

"You cant go home again." —Thomas Wolfe

The Shirts hit the stage like a rocket and the crowds DTL gets a decided boost. Ronnie and Artie crisscross the stage like maniacs, drummer Zeeek Criscione lays down a relentless beat and Annie takes center spotlight with a series of ballet-like moves that have the audience on their feet instantly.

"People think I had mime or dance lessons," she had confided earlier, "but I never have. Sometimes dancers that I worked with in Hair come to a Shirts show and give me little tips. Like if Im doing something thats physically harmful, theyll point it out to me cause they dont want to see me get hurt. So I get a lot of free dance classes."

Annie has a curious onstage habit which Ardito had alluded to earlier. "We were on a radio show in Holland," he recalled, "where they interview a band, only they dont identify them. The idea is that the questions and answers give clues to the groups identity and the first listener to call in with the correct answer wins a prize. We got through seven questions without anyone even calling in. It was a real blow to our ego. The eighth clue was that the vocalist ohews gum wnile she sings. The switchboard lit up. Annie Golden & The Shirts!"

The set builds remarkably, drawing on the best material from the groups two' albums, with several very impressive new songs thrown in. Gum and all, Annie is in complete control and her five musicial cohorts cavorf about the stage with something just short of total abandon. Watching them from the wings, one is reminded of Arditos earlier confession: "Sometimes on Stage I could just kill myself."

Now its post-concert. The Shirts should be exhausted—instead theyre energized, laughing and clowning, cheerfully insulting one another, bitching about technical difficulties onstage. Annie sprawls on an aluminum folding chair, playfully filling out a bogus CREEM questionnaire.

Favorite horror movie: Night of the Living Dead. Of course.

Worst gig ever played: Roundhouse, London, 1978. Played to diehard punks. Music was on 78 speed. We were terrified. We ran away.

Favorite shirt (clothing, not the group): My Pope John Paul II U.S. Tour 1979 shirt. Kids size 10. They wouldnt send me my size, a 6, said it was sinful.

Would you hit afan? I did in England. Hit him with a beer mug.

My own conclusions after this Brooklyn adventure? Ive become a confirmed Shirts fan because:

1. They went home again and triumphed.

2. Theyre the most exciting rock n roll band in town .

3. Theyre a whole lot funnier than Rasputin.

4. (And maybe most important) They gave me a ride home from Brooklyn. ^

Written by Ronald Ardito. Copyright 1979 by The Hudson Bay Music Company/Shirts Music, Inc./OMFUG Music, Inc./BMI. Used by permission. _ -