THE FLESHTONES: PRIMAL ROCK

THE FLESHTONES: PRIMAL ROCK

Michael Goldberg

by

SPLAT! A plastic bag filled with red chili sauce arcs up and out of the crowd and catches Fleshtones’ lead singer Peter Zaremba right on the jaw.

SPLAT! The thick red liquid is all over Zaremba’s face; the top of his baggy black sweatshirt is drenched.

“They hit him!” laughs a kid in the audience.

“Right on! They suck!” shouts back his buddy.

Zaremba doesn’t think it’s so funny. “How come they let 12-year-olds drink beer in this town?” he yells, wiping the gook off with a white towel.

An orange whizzes by his head, then a beer bottle. “You missed,” he shouts. “Hey YOU!” He points a long finger at a kid in the front row. “I’m sorry! You’re 13 years old!”

For the Fleshtones, opening for the Police is like getting between a hungry tiger and a piece of raw meat. And no matter what this brilliant New York band attempts tonight—from their wonderfully trashy remake of “Ride Your Pony” to originals like “Shadow Line” (a killer tune that can rip out the insides of your brainlike the first time you heard “Gimme Shelter”)—nothing seems to penetrate this crowd of 15,000 who have filled the Cow Palace in San Francisco with only one thing on their minds: to see Sting and Stewart and Andy deliver “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” and “Da Doo Doo Doo” and all that other Police-pop. These kids just can’t relate to the Fleshtones at all.

But the Fleshtones stand tall. Crouching at the edge of the stage, greasy brown hair falling in his eyes,, wearing a denim jacket with the legend “Roman .Gods” on the back, guitarist Keith Streng look like the kind of teenage hoodlum who ought to be beating the shit out of the kids in American Graffiti; instead he continues to rip off reverb-heavy riffs, even after a Coke can knocks the pick out of his hand. Streng is the perfect foil to Peter Zaremba, a lanky lead singer whose hair is cut to a perfect circa-1964 Jagger length. As he jerks and swims and pounds a tambourine through the Fleshtones’ set, Zaremba looks like a reject from the American Bandstand audience of a decade and a half ago.

And this, it seems, is the problem: the Fleshtones are every garage band that ever burned bright for a moment in the mid-to-late 60’s, from the Standells to the Shadows of Knight, Count 5 to the Seeds. They are an incredible synthesis of the sounds on Lenny Kaye’s classic garage rock compilation LP, Nuggets. They rock with a disturbing ferocity, an unkempt rawness that is a million miles removed from the slick, pallid 1980’s arena rock that is the shared experience of the audience they have found themselves before on a rainy February night.

The Fleshtones’ proto-punk sound is defined by Twilight Zone giiitar fury, sustained two-note Farfisa organ riffs, trash can drums, bluesy harp and some 50’s sax —and, of course, over-the-edge deranged vocals. This is one great rock ’n’ roll band.

It’s ironic that this audience of American teens are so quickly dismissing this American rock ’n’ roll band while waiting for Britain’s Police. For the Fleshtones are true champions of American beat music. As they sang on their first single, “American Beat”: “Have you heard the American sound/I want to hear it on the radio in my home town.”

Too bad the kids at the Cow Palace don’t want to hear it. After 30 minutes of abuse, the ’Tones wrap up with the perfect rejoinder, an original called “Stop Fooling Around.” By now the audience is tossing quarters up onto the stage (why?), along with paper cups full of Coke and dozens of oranges. “I sure had a good time tonight,” says Zaremba sarcastically, before kneeling down, grabbing a handful of coins and exiting the stage, the rest of the band right behind him.

The next day, ensconced in a rather seedy hotel room in San Francisco’s Tenderloin district, the band position themselves for an interview: Zaremba is stretched out on the blood red rug, Streng takes a chair and props his legs up on the nearby dresser, drummer Bill Milhizner sits on the dresser, bassist Jan Marek Pakulski (Mark to his friends) crouches by the window and the most recent addition, harmonica/Sax man Gordon “Gordo” Spaeth sits on the floor near the bathroom.

The obvious opening topic of discussion is the previous night. So I ask, rather diplomatically: “How come you guys stayed up there as long as you did?”

“Show ’em who’s boss, baby!” pops Keith with a thin smile. “They’re all a bunch of assholes.”

“Because that’s not the kind of band we are,” says Bill cooly. “Literally, the “Roman Gods” idea (their debut LP is called Romarf Gods—and a great title it is!) is one of a strong stance and pride and we know that what we’re doing is right.”

“We won’t back down,” insists Mark.

“They’re just a bunch of wimps anyway!” says Keith.

“That’s the first time that’s ever happened to us in a six-year career,” says Peter, whose accent is New York street tough. “The first time ever. Six years! That means something right there. Don’t forget it. That’s what you tell the people!”

That the Fleshtones follow in the footsteps of America’s great garage bands is not a subject of debate among the band. They readily acknowledge it, are proud to be one of the few bands in 1982 carrying on that particular rock ’n’ roll tradition. “That’s the finest foundation upon which we can build the new rock ’n’ roll,” explains Peter. “And it’s not just us. Take Soft Cell. They probably don’t realize that the sound they’re playing has a basis in that too. That song, ‘Tainted Love’ was written by Ed Cobb, who produced the Standells. That song was actually done by the Standells.

“It’s more apparent where we’re coming from because we’re much purer about it. A lot of other people are heavily influenced by it but don’t realize it because they’re copying Echo and the Bunnymen. Echo and the Bunnymen are copying Joy Division. And Joy Division were copying Public Image Ltd. And PiL is, somewhere, copying that sound. For us, since we’re Americans, it’s a lot more direct. For me at least, it’s the firmest foundation for the new rock ’n’ roll.”

Bill leans forward and adds, “But I hope it goes without saying that we don’t consider ourselves a retro band.”

It was in 1976 that the Fleshtones played their first gig together on Memorial Day, in the basement of a house that Mark and Keith were renting on Long Island. “It was spontaneous,” recalls Mark of the band’s formation. “About the closest you could compare it to is what a lot of the kids are doing now in the so-called hardcore bands. Except we weren’t quite as outspoken. It was very rough and fast and just a lot of simple fun. Bashing around in the basement, partying, getting drunk and playing.”

Two years later and the Fleshtones, at least as they tell it, were poised as the new hope of American rock ’n’ roll. But it was not to be. In 1978, their friends, Alan Vega of Suicide, dragged Marty Thau, onetime manager of the New York Dolls, to a Fleshtones gig and Thau flipped out. “Alan was the one who convinced Marty that we were partially the future of rock ’n’ roll,” recalls Peter. Thau immediately signed them to his Red Star label and put them in the studio. The result of those sessions was an LP, Blast Off, that was to have been released in 1979.

“But Marty lost his backing,” says Peter. Though the classic single, “American Beat” was released to critical raves, the LP remained unreleased. For the Fleshtones, the next two years was a very frustrating period; they were unable to find another label that wanted to sign them. These days, however, the band is philosophical about the fact that nearly six years passed between their formation, and the release of their first LP, Roman Gods. Says Peter, “The Eagle Electric Company on Long Island has this sign. I think everyone in this band has passed it on the el on the way out to Flushing. It says, ‘Perfection is not an accident.’ And we are the living proof of this. We have adopted the Eagle Electric slogan as our own.”

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“It also says ‘Help Wanted,’ ’’jokes Bill.

In late 1980, Miles Copeland signed the Fleshtones to IRS after hearing them perform “Shadow Line,” and a four-song EP, Up Front, which included the superb “The Girl From Baltimore,” was released. Just last month, hot on the heels of Roman Gods, releases finally made Blast Off available—and it was worth the wait. “It’s really a shame they they couldn’t release it in ’79,” says Peter. “Cause I think it would have been a real revelation coming then, when it should have. I can’t help thinking sometimes how many heads would have been turned.”

Now, with their two albums out, the Fleshtones are ready to follow through on their goal of popularizing real rock ’n’ roll. “One of our goals in doing this is to be effective in getting rock ’n’ roll played again on commercial radio,” says Bill.

“We think it’s just a matter of breaking through,” says Peter. “And if we can be the first ones to say, ‘Yea. we did it!’ then we’ll be mighty proud of ourselves. To put things back in that perspective. I think more people want release from the music than.want to be anaesthetized.”

And what is the right perspective? What should rock ’n’ roll be concerned with? “Emotion, release, beat and rhythm,” says Peter. “Virtuosity is not a main concern, although it is not necessarily a problem either. Though one should have much more mental command over what one is doing. Most people seem to let their hands so the talking as far as their instruments go, rather than their hearts or their heads. Rhythm, release, catharsis. These are the important things.”

Then Keith adds an all important ingredient: “Beer,” he says. Don’t forget beer!”