THE ROMANTICS MAKE IT TO THE MAJORS

THE ROMANTICS MAKE IT TO THE MAJORS

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NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW NOR SLEET NOR POWER FAILURE....

by

Billy Altman

Talk about your bad luck. The first time the Romantics came chugging into New York to let us East Coasters know that yes, rock ’n’ roll was indeed alive and well so far as Detroit was concerned, they had no sooner taken the stage at CBGB’s and plugged in their instruments amidst the sticky haze of that July '77 night when, BAM! The neon beer lights darkened, and the power on the Bowery, as well as the rest of the city of New York, went into the off position, where it stayed all that night and well into the next day until the buffoons who run Con Edison managed to figure out just what the hell had caused the blackout in the first place. Undaunted, the Romantics continued their travels along the Northeast, returning to the Big Mango in January of 78, just in time for the first real blizzard seen in these parts in over fifteen years. And though they made it into town—just barely—they were greeted by the cheery news that the burgh was officially closed for the evening, so their gig at Max's was kaput.

Of course, times and fortunes have been a trifle kinder to the Romantics during the past two years. Why just last summer I was out in New Jersey watching them open for the Ramones and they emerged from the set vffith nary a scratch and a goodly sized handful of new fans. It wasn’t until the Raiftones went into “Surfin’ Bird” that the generator blew and the smell of burning rubber filled the air and everybody had to be evacuated from the joint. And yes, they were indeed in Cincinnati the night of the Who disaster but at least 36 hours had elapsed between the time they finished playing on Saturday and the line formed for the Who concert the following Monday, so let’s not rush to conclusions... (Hold on a minute, folks. It's a bit difficult trying to type with my fingers crossed and besides, if I don’t spray some Glade around the room right now, the fumes from the cooked garlic cloves tied around my neck are gonna do me in...PSSSTTT, PSSSTTT...Okay, I’m back. Where were we? Oh, yeah...)...

My first notice of the Romantics took place in early 78, when I heard their homemade debut 45 while vacationing in beautiful downtown Birmingham, Michigan under the guise of helping put together a Best of CREEM. The record-was resting benignly enough in the middle of a stack of singles on a shelf in the office and, taken in by the simple pic sleeve, which depicted four moderately clean-cut young men and gave no more relevant info than the name of the band and the song titles, “Little White Lies” and “I Can’t Tell You Anything”, I threw it on the turntable, expecting little78 didn’t seem very promising in its infancy. To my surprise, what 1 got was two short (but not too short, an encouraging sign; remember, this was a time when the battle cry of the day was Two Minutes or Bust) bursts of energy and style combined (another encouraging sign, what with most bands of the still underground scene then having gobs of the former and all too little of the latter). “Little White Lies” charged across the speakers like the Dave Clark Five rising out of some forgotten time warp and “I Can’t Tell You Anything”, with its tremelo guitar, maracas, and harmonica solo, burned with a not so re-fried Yardbirdsian air. Debut recordings are usually heavy on the root awareness—definition of stance and attitude and all that—and again, this non-punk, non-wimp declaration of solid rock ’n’ roll seemed mighty encouraging. 1 was even more impressed When the gang at the office informed me that not only were the Romantics a local band, but that the single had come out in early 77 (one great thing about locally-made independent records is their incredibly long life span; let*s hope that the indie universe never comes under the influence of bargain bin mentality)!

In May of ’78,1 finally got to see the band live, at Detroit’s den of iniquity known as Bookie’s, and it was apparent fairly early in their set that their fine single was indeed no fluke. Dressed in matching black, white and red outfits, armed with Rickenbackers and Guilds, footed with Beatle boots, the Romantics implied nostalgia, but that’s as far as it went. For rather than trying to re-create lost pop shangri-las of innocence, the four Romantics blitzed the audience with a steamy array of originals and or.e brief but sublime look backwards (the Swingin’ Bluejeans’ “Hippy Hippy Shake” —great taste to boot!). Rhythm guitarist Wally Palmar handled most of the lead vocals, but all four group members chipped in with harmonies. Palmar and bassist Rich Cole handled the middle of the band’s music toughly and tightly, leaving plenty of room for lead guitarist Mike Skill and drummer Jimmy Marinos to smash away above and below. Marinos proved to be the star of the Romantics’ live act and outside of the Who, I couldn’t think of any other rock ’n’ roll band where the drummer could so dominate, without demolishing, the group’s overall sound. Quite simply, what I was hearing that night was one special aggregation of musicians.

Since then, I’ve caught the Romantics every time they’ve come to or near Manhattan isle, have yet to see them put on a bad show and, as I write this, their first album for Nemporer Records is just about two hip shakes way from the stores. Their three year history is as off the beaten path as their brushes with both man-made and natural disasters, and on a recent visit to New York (no catastrophes this time), I sat down with them to get it all down.

"...I saw some sunlight hit this rack of clothes, and there were these four orange sharkskin suits... -Jimmy Marinos"

“Me and Mike knew each other from high school days,” recounts Jimmy, “and the same goes for Wally and Rich. We all played in different bands around Detroit in the mid 70’s, none of which went anywhere. We all had similar characteristics, and we’d bump into each other at concerts, where we kinda stood out—short hair, leather jackets. So we figured after awhile that maybe we could try and get something going.”

“The previous year,” says Mike, “Jimmy and Wally and I had been in New York, and we were really inspired to try and do something back home. Seeing groups get onstage and doing simple rock redly gave me confidence to play guitar. Before this band, I’d played bass, but everytime we tried any guitar players out, they would start taking tnese long, involved solos that went on for too long and from the outset, we wanted the music to be not too complex.” When Rich joined on bass, the lineup was set.

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THE ROMANTICS

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The club scene in late ’76 in Detroit was hardly encouraging, however, as the foui soon found out. “There simply weren’t any places to do original music,” says Mike. “About the only band that was doing their own stuff was the Rockets. The clubs had all gone disco, and the few that had live music were booking either top forty bands or some heavy metal groups. So we just started rehearsing and fooled around with some songs, and we liked the feel of what was going on.” “Yeah,” says Jimmy,“we just wanted to do oldies at first, lotta Kinks songs, and we started playing and from the very beginning, it felt so good just to make noise againr

With no real venues for trying out their sound live, the band decided to make a record because well, as Jimmy puts it, “It seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, there was no place to play, we knew we weren’t about to get signed by any record company, so we just did it to do it.” And so, roughly a month after they’d formed, the Romantics cut the aforementioned 45. Local reaction was good, and word of mouth began to spread. “One night at about three in the morning,” says Jimmy, ‘lwe got a phone call asking us if we’d play a date with the new MC5. Rob Tyner had been down to one of our rehearsals, and he’d mentioned us to the owner of this new club that wanted bands doing original stuff. We only knew about ten songs at the time,” he laughs. Soon after that gig came another one, opening for Mink DeViile, and then, as if from the skies, came a request for the Romantics to open a show at the immense Pontiac Stadium. 80,000 people. “I hardly remember anything about the show itself,” says Rich. “We were just so excited about getting the chance to do the show. We were all ready an hour before we were supposed to go on, just pacing up and down the dressing room. Then we were on and bang, it was all over. All I can recall is that it was a hot little twenty minute set. ”

It was at the Pontiac Stadium gig that the Romantics’ “look” was unfurled for the first time, and not by design either. “We didn’t want to hit the stage in our jeans,” says Jimmy, “and we didn’t have any money, so we started going to thrift shops around town. And one day in the Salvation Army store, I saw some sunlight hit on this rack of clothes, and there were these four orange sharkskin suits. We tried ’em on and they pretty much fit. It was almost too good to be true, so we grabbed ’em.”

It seemed for a spell that the Romantics were indeed a charmed band, as even a real major label took quick interest in them. “Capitol was taking a look at us.by the summer of ’77,” recalls Jimmy. “They flew people in a few times to see us. They told us we had great potential.” Talk of a contract began. “Then,” he laughs, “they found out we only had ten songs.” Talk soon stopped.

And the road got considerably tougher. • “After the stadium show, we really had nowhere to go but downhill, at least that was the case locally,” says Rich. “We knew we liked playing in front of people, so we headed outside of Detroit. Toronto, New York, Boston.” With the help of their managers, Joel Zuckerman and Arnie “No Problem” Tencer (“They were there with us from day one,” says Jimmy, “Romantics fans before we even really had a band”) and a booking agent, the Romantics took to the highways, getting progressively tighter as a group and more and more professional in their ability to take on audiences unfamiliar with them and win them over.

In ’78, the group’s second single, “Tell It To Carrie” and “First In Line” was released, the recordings coming from a session produced by former Wacker Bob Segarini. It wasn’t too long thereafter that the majors again began checking the band out, and in May of ’79, the Romantics signed with Nemperor. The album was recorded during the summer at Coconut Studios in Miami, with Pete Solley (the Sports) handling production chores, in but two weeks. “Most of the songs we’ve been doing for years now,” says Jimmy, “so it was pretty much a piece of cake.”

The Romantics are happy and proud about their album, as well they should be. They’ve managed to get on vinyl the hard and buoyant sound of their music with standout tracks like “When I Look In Your Eyes” and “Keep In Touch” on side one, and the second side of the album is simply one smoking cut after another, from Marinos’ great vocal on “What I Like About You” (they better make this one the single) to a rave-up rendition of Ray Davies’ “She’s Got Everything” to Cole’s shining performance on “Till I See You Again” right through 'to the mania of a re-recorded “Little White Lies” and the. LP closer, the frenzied “Gimme One More Chance,” with Palmar’s pleading vocal and Skill’s hothouse guitar battling it out for special citations. And getting out there to support the record isn’t going to be a real big deal for the band, seeing as how they’ve been on the road for over two years already.

“We’re into having a good time onstage and having the people who hear us having a good time,” says Wally. “We’re very much towards changing things, getting that positive energy back on the radio and in the clubs.” The rest of the band concurs with Palmar’s statement of purpose. “We’ve always felt that we were just picking up where that mid-60’s spirit left off,” says Jimmy. “Yeah,” smifes Mike, “you can still have fun with just three chords.” And have it they do. For the Romantics are one of the best of the increasing number of bands* rising up from the midsection of the U.S., helping to get rock ’n’ roll back on its two feet, and they’re also helping to disprove the idea that you have to have your band situated near an ocean in order to get noticed by the powers that be in the music industry. (Rivers and lakes do help, however.) ®