ROLLING ARMAGEDDON

What has hotel roming list big enough for five baseball teams, brings joy to thousands and plays with itself every night?

Answer: A Stiff Tour.

— From the Son fo Stiff Tour press release Did you ever hear the phrase "wonders never cease"? Well I was wondering why anyone in their right mind would want to be subjected to almost three months of truckstop dining, no sleep, dirty clothes, Joe "King" Carrasco, traveling city-to-city, in a bus, border hassles, equipment fuck-ups, hangovers, and worst of al—7:00 a.m. wake-up calls!! Can you imagine!?! My own Put my mother ha®p$thjng to do witfiifJ •the £on of.StiTour* which began irtlthe I

U.K. last September and featured five groups—Any Trouble, the Equators, Jenpole Tudor, Dirty Looks, and Joe “King" Carrasco and the Crowns. As with past Stiff ifoprs, the idea was to present all the grpups ’ every night, in a two-and-a-half hour show. That means 2S:jt0nute;sta/ with tries, between AKL In 07 nutshell, a Toad I crew’s nightmare® $ HfiffRfi X? c^ir In Europe, the traveling Stiffs were treatj ed to such pleasant diversions.as a dressing

In Euroe the traveling stiffs were treated to such pleasent diversion as a fressing riots in Milan that actually left CHie.pefSdnfl dead. They don’t call thenrMSftft^RMBHV| nothing. ? 'i%

Bfil^iriving Europe,, the entourage . began the “Colonial Leg* of the tour in To* ronto in December. Though no hydro pple% pogey checks or moose attended therj show, many Canadians did. Reports kpmm •‘varicH|s'^band . members reiterated Canadians, despite CREEM’s monthly attempts to educate the country, are still a slightly confused race. Seems they weren’t completely tuned into the music, hut enjoyed the show anyway. >

IHfet Stop was Detroit, where t met up ed the show anyway.

Next stop was detroit where I met up with them during their soundcheck at the Madison Theater. As a rule, soundchecks are as fun as getting pulled over by the police when you’ve got 20 outstanding speeding tickets: You sit through 10 years of a roadie pounding on a snare while the sound man tries to EQ and balance the sound. Want to experience a-soundcheck but have no actual sound to check? Do this: 1) The night before your very own soundcheck, drink a sizable amount of the liquor that gives you the worst hangover. 2) With hangover intact, stick your head inside a large steel oil drum. 3) Have a friend strike the drum repeatedly with a pipe until your ears bleed.

Now wasn’t that better than an ingrown toenail or electrolysis on the palms? You bet.

Stiff Records put me up at the Book Cadillac, a hotel that changes names regularly depending on which Arab owns it this week, in my own home town. Great. Soundcheck was making me wish I wets deaf, so I set out to check into the hotel. On my way out, I ran into my contact for the tour, Len Fico. After I explained I was going to the hotel, he told me to be sure to be on time: every act was great. I agreed and left to rest my aching melon.

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Joe “King” Carrasco and the Crowns opened the Detroit show. When it was announced that local station WABX would be simulcasting the concert, a roar of boos erupted from the audience. Love is indeed a many splendored thing. Carrasco greeted the boos with “Hey! Ah don’t even know what WABX is!*’ Let the show begin...

Joe “King” and crew swept through their set like cheetahs on meth—they play TexMex rock ’n’ roll, with that trademark cheesy Farfisa organ, reminiscent of the Sir Douglas Quintet. Carrasco, a real show man, leapt around the stage like he had springs in his feet. They covered “96 Tears” and brought the crowd to its feet, the band throwing burrito wraps into the dancing mob in front of the stage. Next time around, guys, throw MONEY!

Next up was Tenpole Tudor, from some place in England. “Some place” because Stiff doesn’t even know where they’re from. Eddie Tenpole, as you may remember, composed and performed “Who Killed Bambi” on The Great Rock ’n’ Roll Swindle. Not a bad way to break into the biz, to be sure, but Tenpole Tudor took their punk roots and sensibilities, added some melody and came up with their own sound. They’re a fast paced maniacal quartet whose onstage rap between songs I couldn’t understand. (Knew I should’ve taken that Berlitz course in English last summer...)

From Staten Island come Dirty Looks, a trio that’s probably the most underrated group in America these days. Guitarist Patrick Barnes surpasses so many other “New Wave” axe bearers in technique—not to mention style—with no real media recognition that it’s truly a shame. These guys are so efficient, so tight that they sound like a five-piece rather than three. Marco Sin, bassist, sort of adds comic relief, being overweight and all, dancing and jiving on stage like there’sjno tomorrow. And why shouldn’t he? Marco and drummer Peter Parker are one of the best rhythm sections in the country, and they should be proud. Paid at least. And their version of “Love Comes In Spurts” gives them an added advantage in the coolness category, much like New York’s dB’s, who do a grand version of Television’s “Venus de Milo.” America hasn’t discovered Dirty Looks yet, and won’t you bitch when you have to shell out $8.50 to see them at a 3,000 seat venue in ’82? You bet.

Up next are the Equators. A six-piece reggae outfit from Birmingham, England, who backed up roots hero Desmond Dekkeron hisnew ‘Stiff LP* Black and Dekker and toured Europe with Inner Circle, they mix the best elements of pop and reggae. Covering the classic “Baby Come Back” by the Equals, the Equators easily established themselves as contenders; hopefully their combination of speedy reggae and mainstream pop will assure them airplay on this side of the great creek.

Any Trouble was the last group to appear. Hailing from the north of England, they’re easily the most accessible band on the entire Son of Stiff Tour. They’ve been described as Costello-ish, which isn’t a bad comparison, but where Elvis is starting to sound worla weary, Any Trpuble’s outlook on life, love, etc., is refreshing. Clive Gregson, chief songwriter and Troublemaker should enjoy a long, successful career if he can manage to keep the pace he’s set for himself.

As concert tickets go, the Son of Stiff shows were the best buy of the season. There was literally something for everyone. Each night the line-up changed to avoid any deadly ego trips, and members of each group joined the other band’s sets to “enhance” their performance.

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There’s a good reason why many Brit groups have a dismal outlook of the United States. First off: they only get to visit the major urban sprawls, which are generally ugly. Secondly, English complaints about Yank food can be justified by the fact that while on the road, one doesn’t have much chance to suss out the best eateries in town. If you could’ve seen the soup served in a styrofoam bowl that some Stiffies bought at this little truckstop in Indiana, you’d thank God McDonald’s thinks you deserve a break.

The whole entourage traveled by bus. It’s certainly not the worst way to see the U.S. A., but after about three hours of monotonous Midwest countryside, I wished I was at home watching Green Acres. Fun was there to be had, though—as was demonstrated by Eddie Tenpole, who moved from the back of the bus to the front by walking on the arms of the seats. And there’s always Joe “King” Carrasco, who’s more fun than a barrel of trained apes. In confidence, Joe told me that he pages himself at airports to make sure he’s there. Said Joe “King” Carrasco to co-tour manager Len Fico: “People who play rock ’n’ roll are supposed to be illiterate assholes.’' “Well,” % replied Fico, “You’re substantiating that fact!”

Brian “Rocky” Bailey of the Equators produced a pint of Johnny Walker Black and sat down next to me.AVe discussed cultural differences, reggae and the annoying habit the English have of putting tobacco in their joints. This lead to a heated debate— when Steve Booth, manager of the Equators, offered former CREEM writer/Carrasco manager Joe Nick Patoski an English version of a joint, Patoski turned his nose up at the offer. Steve and Rocky explained that they mixed tobacco in to conserve mari» juana. “That’s like pouring perfume on a pig!” smirked Patoski.

On December 8th the tour rolled into Cleveland. Everyone checked into the Holiday Inn near the Agora, the night’s venue. Before the dreaded soundcheck, many of the entourage hung out in the lounge and watched a woman play piano and sing all those lovely lounge ditties.

The Agora was about half full, but the groups played like there was a full house. Around 11 p.m. Carrasco ran up to me and shouted, “John Lennon’s dead! Someone shot him!” I didn’t quite believe him. After checking with various sources, I found out it was true. Gloom clouded the evening. Everyone was on the verge of tears. During the traditional Stiff finale when everyone gets on stage and does a song together, Carrasco dedicated Gary Glitter’s “Rock ’n’ Roll” to John Lennon and announced that the former Beatle was shot dead. It wasn’t a joyous occasion.

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All five groups managed to keep their sanity, despite the pressures of the road. I’ll tell you this, though—if anyone offered to put me on the road for three months, I’d tell ’em to hit the bricks. Plain and simple.