Gimme Stridex: Rick Derringer Eats Cookies & Speaks

Gimme Stridex: Rick Derringer Eats Cookies & Speaks

by

Billy Altman

"I really wanted to put out a real honest record, get back some of the respect that maybe I'd lost."

Talk about coming full circle. Rick Derringer has just come back onstage for an encore before a sold out house at My Father’s Place in Roslyn, Long Island and the crowd, in a festive mood all evening, is now moving roaringly towards headbangingsville. Three major factors have contributed to the celebratory atmosphere abounding here: 1) It’s the night before Thanksgiving, which means that neither student nor day laborer in attendance need worry about whatever physical and/or mental shape they find themselves in at the end of the night; 2) the raucousness quota has been measurably raised due to the fact that a local FM station is broadcasting the show live; and, last but certainly not least, 3) Rick Derringer has treated this audience to one splendid set. The diminutive guitarist/singer/songwriter/producer has always been a fine showman, but what’s evident tonight is a sense of place and an air of confidence that’s been just-can’t-putyour-finger-on-it-only-you-know-that-it’ssomething-missing in Rick’s music over the past few years. Significantly, this band is not billed as Derringer, as were the past two groups that Rick fronted, but rather Rick Derringer, with three excellent musicians now behind him in mainly supportive roles, leaving Rick both the room and space to really let himself out.The songs in Derringer’s new set draw most heavily from two albums—Guitars and Women, his new LP, and (the best one since) 1973’s All American Boy, with the bridge between the two filled with assorted gems, both large and small, from the times between. The composite picture is perhaps the truest indication of what Rick Derringer has always been about: fire-breathing rock ’n’ roll (“Rock and Roll Hootchie Koo,” “It Must Be Love”) tempered with tasty pop (“Something Warm”) and a touch of class (“Jump, Jump, Jump”).

Anyway, the lights have come back on for the encore and Rick, bopping back up to the microphone, flashes a somewhat sly grin. “We’re gonna play an old song now,” he says, “by a band I used to be in.7.,” and that swift, simple drum into starts and suddenly it’s back to 1965 and Shindig and Upbeat and visions of Stridex Medicated Pads and Jeannie Shrimpton with “Hang On Sloopy,” the tune that launched the McCoys, four kids out of Ohio, into the national spotlight, and started Rick on a career that is now entering its third decade. And I’m thinking, boy, it all does come back, doesn’t it...

A little over a month later, I’m sitting in Rick and Liz Derringer’s living room and, with Rick supplying the tape reoorder (mine’s on the blink again—Lafayette Radi0, cursed be thy name) and Liz providing the cookies (hands up winner is the chocolate chip peanut butter, with the butterscotch a strong second), we discuss events in Rick’s life over the past few years, events which, even to someone as easy going and optimistic as Rick Derringer, had him a bit confused as to which way was up. The failure of the two incarnations of a Derringer band was a frustrating experience for Rick, especially since the book said that what was going on was exactly right. “The last couple of studio records,” begins Rick, “came about the way they did because everyone said, ‘Look, Rick, maybe your commitment live, and as part of a band, is so much that for some reason or other you can’t write enough songs to keep ’em cornin’, so let’s now use more outside writers.’ The philosophy being that if you use outside writers, you can use the very best ones and really get outstanding material. Also, we had the feeling that the band really wasn’t writing as a band, so either I had to write songs that everyone in the band agreed on or we had to find songs that seemed to fit in! Also, with producers, the theory goes that you aren’t supposed to be able to produce yourself because you aren’t objective enough, and if you go to the best producers then you have people who are totally objective about you and are able to devote all their expertise for your benefit.”

"I am basically a rhythm guitarist who knows how to play lead when the time comes around."

The results, however, were less than expected, as the three albums done between 76 and 78 produced less response, both from critics and fans, and eventually not too flattering response. Rick shakes his head. “Now if Sweet Evil or If I Weren’t So Romantic, I’d Shoot You were big, successful albums, 1 would have felt great, all those theories are correct, it all works. Instead though, people were saying things about me in print that I didn’t like seeing and the records weren’t selling. Plus, when I looked back the way I felt while working with these producers and songwriters, a lot of times I didn’t agree with things that Were going on, but I had to give myself to them to have it work at what was supposed to be the optimum level. It got very frustrating. ”

It was while getting ready to record Guitars and Women that Rick decided to make some changes. “When I went in to do the album, I was still writing for the band but I wanted to try and write songs that I really liked and write enough of them to come up with an album’s worth of songs that I had written myself or helped write and that I felt good about. Through doing that, I realized that these songs didn’t sound anything like the band or what the band wanted to sound like. It did, however, sound very much like me. So it seemed that if we all were going to be mature about this project that we should probably go back to calling it Rick Derringer and really get the most out of it. And while we were doing the record, I started to feel less lost, knowing exactly where I was going. All the time I had the bands and called them Derringer, however much trouble I went to to find musicians—and we tried hundreds at various times—they really grew into a band. So after this album was done, we went about looking for some people to play with me and I said, ‘All I want is a band that’s gonna play well and try and sing well, to go out and try and present my music a little better.’ That’s really all I want. And actually, this band is turning out to be the first real band in that respect that I’ve ever had.” - I ask Rick how it feels to be playing with a keyboard player again and moreover, what it’s like to be the only guitarist in the band, something that hasn’t been the case for most of the last decade. Because one of the things that’s most impressive about the new setup is a chance for Rick to show just what a fine rhythm player he is. “It’s still real new,” Rick says, “But it’s great. Actually, the McCoys were always a band with one guitar, keyboards, bass and drums. That’s the way I started and that’s probably who I played with the longest of any of the bands I’ve been with. I guess because Johnny Winter and I worked so effectively together that I always felt some pressure to keep that kind of setup. But when I made this change, it became clear to me that I wanted to gel back to where I was really comfortable. I am basically a rhythm guitarist who knows how to play lead when the time comes around. That’s my style. But the other guitar players I’ve worked with, we’d usually have this collision, ’cause, frankly, they couldn’t play rhythm as well as I could. The only time the rhythm felt right was when I let the other guitarist take a solo and then I’d play rhythm. But then people would tell me that f wasn’t playing enough, so eventually we’d wind up in these guitar battles, and that’s never where I wanted to be. It feels a lot better now.”

"People were saying things about me in print that I didn't tike seeing."

I mention that perhaps the difference involves the fact that the present players don’t have as much pressure on them as in some of Rick’s previous bands. He nods in agreement. “Definitely. I’m taking on all the responsibilities, so when anyone else starts to make a contribution, it’s from a totally different perspective. And they’re very supportive of anything I want to do.

The new band includes Jimmy Wilcox on drums, Benjie King on piano and bassist Donnie Kisselbach, and finding them proved to be not that difficult a task. “Jimmy (who is the brother of Utopia’s John Wilcox) had tried out for me about three years ago, and I liked his playing a lot then, but he was still in high school and we weren’t sure how well he’d fare on the road. But between then and now he’s gotten "E plenty of experience, and for awhile he | worked as his brother’s roadie. So I figured ■O well, if he can handle it on the road in that m capacity, there was no reason to worry now. Actually, I didn’t even know just how good he was. As much as I liked his drumming, I didn’t know that he’s also an excellent singer and he writes songs and we both happen to like a lot of the same music.

“Benjie, I had heard about a' lot when I was in Edgar Winter’s band with Dan Hartman and Chuck Ruff. He was in this band near Dan’s hometown and we’d heard all these rumors about how Benjie was so good looking that every time he’d play anywhere, there’d be all these girls backstage after the shows for autographs and stuff. And this in a band that had no original material. He was that cool. Dave Still, the engineer I work with, recommended him for this band, so he came over and we played a little and I immediately offered him the gig. He’s also real talented. Flays great piano and guitar and sings great and can arrange horns and vocals, too. Benjie turned me on to Donnie, who was in a band in Washington, D.C. and he seemed to fit right in right from the beginning, so that was it.”

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I ask Rick to talk about his working relationships with the different producers he’s had. “I learned something from all of them. Mike Chapman is an amazingly directed producer. You learn about zeroing in on what a producer thinks something should be. Blondie, for example, has become unbelievably well-defined since he took over. On the other hand, I feel that the place he put us was not anywhere near where anyone wanted to see me, so he’s not infallible. Jack Douglas, I feel similarly about. He put an amazing amount of worn into Aerosmith and turned them into something he saw them as, but he wound up trying to turn us into another version of them.

“Bill Szymczyk, on the other hand, I learned lots of different stuff from. He taught me how easy it is to be a producer. He don’t wanna work hard, at all. He’d just loaf around and enjoy himself. ’Cause music is for listening to, after all. That’s his whole working philosophy. Plus he’s got good taste, and makes the right choices and good decisions sound wise. You always hear that mistakes can be good. Well, Bill will choose things that sometimes you go ‘Wha?’ and later you realize that he was right, that it just worked. All things considered, I’d say he’s one of the best producers in the world to work with.”

Guitars and Women was co-produced by Todd Rundgren, from whom Rick also says he’s learned quite a bit. “Todd’s taught me a lot about being honest. We were coming off the Chapman thing, where we had totally given ourselves to Mike and said, 'Go do your thing.’ Todd had to re-teach me and he was real rough on me, making me aware that producers sometimes have to be real blunt, real taskmasters, and at other times completely open of what you yourself want. He’s also a very effective worker. There were some aspects of Todd that I wanted to ignore, and he felt the same way about me. So during song selection and take selection, it was Todd’s ballgame. Basic tracks and a lot of the specific sounds was my area. On vocals I particularly wanted to get the most out of Todd, ’cause he’s really amazing on arranging vocals. Just sits and listens to the song and then goes, ‘OK, c’mon out, now we’ll sing this and now we’ll sing this, and it only takes about an hour for an entire song, and it’s done.”

Guitars and Women, I remark, reminds me more of All American Boy than anything else Rick has ever done, with the emphasis squarely on the songs themselves, and that the crop of songs here are on a par with that vastly underrated record. “Todd and I talked a lot about what I wanted this record to be,” says Rick. “I really wanted to put out a real honest record, get back some of the respect that maybe I’d lost. And I think that this album in a little way, was a start. I’d have to say that on the last few albums, I really wasn’t sure what I was doing. But now 1 know that mostly I just have to keep up the energy to come up with good songs and keep the inspiration fresh in my mind. Just talk about my feelings, talk about the stuff I wanna know about, that I don’t have to make up some dumb fictional stories. If the new album sells well, that’s great, but making an album that was directed only towards that end wasn’t what it was about this time. It’s given me a great deal of confidence. I know I had it when I made All American Boy, thought I could maintain that level of operation, get a band together, everything. That was seven years ago, and since then, I’ve tried things that I thought would make it easier for me to do my thing. It took all the little successes, my own or with other people, it took all the bad stuff, all the wrong moves, for me to be ableio see just where I am. And now the direction not only looks clear to me, it also looks easy. ”

The honest intent seems to be paying off for Rick Derringer right now, which is, of course, just as these things should be. His cross country tour is going great guns, especiallyjon the club route, and as I write this, there seems a good chance that “Don’t Ever Say Goodbye,” from Guitars and Women just may be the breakthrough hit that’s eluded Rick for so long. Oddly enough, it managed to gather attention before it was considered as a single, with radio stations from St. Louis to San Francisco jumping on the track even while the first official single, “Something Warm” was making its presence felt. It’s the kind of thing that really doesn’t happen very often on the radio these days, but I doubt that it surprises Rick too much. In over 15 years, he has seen plenty, believe me. Come hell or high water, Sloopy does indeed hang on. - ®