In retrospect, I now realize that Ed Goldstein was the first musician I knew personally to obtain formal permission to record another musical artist’s work. This was in 1992 — before the Internet would so much more readily facilitate this kind of information sleuthing — and I remember being somewhat impressed, and a little envious, that Ed and his musical partner, Scott Fuqua, were able to navigate this aspect of the music business.
Scott + Ed = Fuquay
Goldstein and Fuqua joined together in the early 1990s to form Fuquay, Ohio Valley practitioners of EDM – “electronic dance music” – a full two decades or more before this musical genre (and I never saw this coming) would enter the pop mainstream.
cover art by Lynn Punkari
1992’s Psychosis would find the duo crafting 11 original instrumental compositions — and one inspired cover: Oliver Nelson‘s theme to the 1970s TV action series, The Six Million Dollar Man:
[Pssst: Click on triangle above to play “Six Million Dollars” by Fuquay]
I think it’s safe to say that Scott and Ed were the first “pop modernists” to breathe new life into Nelson’s composition following its mid-70s heyday. Nelson, a respected jazz composer, bandleader, arranger and saxophonist, would be best remembered for The Blues and the Abstract Truth, his 1961 album with Freddie Hubbard, Eric Dolphy, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers, and Roy Haynes, .
Tip of the hat to my old tennis partner and high school music rival. Ed Goldstein [he was in The Head Band with future “Smooth” songwriter, Itaal Shur, and one-time-bassist-for-Sleepy-Labeef-turned-sociology-professor, Adam Moskowitz, while I was in The Max, formerly Max & the Bluegills], who recently paid tribute to Peter Gabriel and late-70s Genesis as pivotal influences on his approach to percussion, with “Games Without Frontiers” leading the way as his favorite Gabriel track.
As music entered the ’80s, I remember how things got increasingly and disconcertedly digital — MIDI, disk drives, drum machines and the like — putting some of us analog-minded folks off, at least initially. Not Ed, though, who helped serve as a bridge to fearful, reactionary types like me, whose old school heart will always yearn for analog-only devices, such as a Hammond organ with a rotating Leslie speaker, or a Moog Taurus bass pedal synthesizer (my college roommate had one), or an Echoplex tape delay effects unit (sax man & friend, Bruce Batté, once had one), without which dub reggae would almost certainly have never been born.
Hammond B-3 red Walnut Leslie Speaker Cabinet
Moog Taurus II Bass Pedal Synth Echoplex – Complete with Case
“Games Without Frontiers,” unsurprisingly, would be cited in a fun historical romp – “Ghosts in the Machine: The Most Important Drum Machines in Music History” – which begins in 1959 with Wurlitzer’s built-in percussion sidekick, the Side Man. Peter Gabriel, as it turns out, utilized a Linn Drum predecessor I was not aware of until now – PAiA – that enjoys the distinction of being the “first programmable drum machine in history,” having been introduced to the marketplace in 1975.
Frustratingly, that information is not spelled out in the otherwise detailed credits captured on Discogs for the UK edition of Peter Gabriel’s third album from 1978. Did Gabriel himself do the drum programming vs. Jerry Marotta & Phil Collins, the drummers listed on the track? We do know, however, that Gabriel and Larry Fast both did some programming with respect to synthesizers, such as “Games Without Frontiers,” on which both musicians programmed synth bass lines (one of which I initially assumed to be Tony Levin playing a Chapman Stick).
Soon after playing bagpipes on the album’s concluding track “Biko,” Larry Fast — under the name Synergy — would issue his fourth long-playing release Games, an “all electronic production” that, like his three previous efforts, would be produced, engineered and programmed by Fast himself. Released in 1979, Games is an instrumental song cycle that some might deem “experimental, ambient” (Discogs) and challenging at times but is hard to categorize given the dynamics and dramatic shifts in mood and intensity, as demonstrated on six-minute composition “Delta Four”:
Digital synthesis realized using the digital synthesizer at Bell Laboratories – Murray Hill, New Jersey.
Mixed at House of Music June and July 1979 by Larry Fast except Delta One which was mixed by Charlie Conrad & Larry Fast. Mastered by Robert Ludwig, Masterdisk, NYC.
Digital synthesizer computer programming by Greg Sims. Equipment used on this production manufactured by — Moog Music Inc.; Oberheim Electronics; Sequential Circuits; Paia Electronics; 360 Systems; Musitronics; MXR; DBX; MCI; Eventide Clockworks; Sony; Teac-Tascam; EMT; The Synergy System; Apple Computer Corp.; Bell Labs Digital Synthesizer; Deltalab Research.
Soundcheck: “Delta 3” [parts A-F] developed from themes written during soundchecks on the August to December 1978 Peter Gabriel Tour. “Delta Two” themes are remnants of 1974’s electronic Realizations For Rock Orchestra writing sessions. “Delta Four” is a surviving digital synthesizer sequencer program experiment combined with some advanced tape loops. “Delta One” is an experiment fusing the pop and electronic vocabularies of turn of the decade composition.
Electronic music pioneer & Occasional Bagpipist – Larry Fast
“Games was the first encounter on a Synergy album with digital synthesis and to some degree, digital recording. It was done under laboratory conditions at Bell Labs, which was then the crown jewel of the AT&T Research Lab. It’s still there [or is it?], but it’s now part of the crown jewels of Lucent. AT&T was the telephone company—Ma Bell—back then and had lots of wonderful “blue sky” research going on in computers, audio and various other technologies. They would fund these things thinking—and rightfully so—that at some point, something would surface out of these free thinking projects that might be beneficial to the phone company. They don’t do that so much anymore. At that time, there wasn’t any real competition in the phone business. Now, it’s very cutthroat. However, at that time, one of their great, shining lights was Max Matthews, one of the pioneers of computer music and electronic music, at the academic and theoretical level. One of his departments was speech and synthesis. They were exploring several areas of synthesizers, speech and vocals, which could be made into singing. He had worked on one project as early as 1976 that incorporated aspects of that.
By 1978, they had some of the very earliest digital synthesizers, running essentially as software, with some concurrent specialized hardware they had built on minicomputers. They were just mind-boggling to me after struggling to extract sounds from the Moog, Oberheim and related instruments I had been working with in the analog world. This was positively world changing. Again, like any technology at the beginning, it was a little tedious and difficult to control. I was just getting my feet wet, but there were a few passages recorded at Bell Labs that found their way onto the Games record. The passages were enhanced with some of the analog synthesizers to flesh out the arrangements. It was a very eye opening experience. It set part of the tone for the album. The other aspect of Games it that I was on the road a lot with the Peter Gabriel band and recording with them as well. It meant that some of the writing was done on the road, captured on small cassette recorders and lots of scribbled-down notes. It was the first album where I hadn’t set aside a block of time in my composer’s studio to write. It was a different approach.”
Is it ironic that this digital work was issued on 8 TRACK?
Ed Goldstein’s current percussion philosophies are being carried out through Big Car Jack.
You may recall me telling you how Tom Newbold dragged me to see Great Plains despite my misgivings. My young befuddled spirit had not yet cottoned onto the ‘radical’ notion that great music (gasp!) isn’t always about great musicianship. In fact, sometimes all the hemi-demi-semi-quavers and musical gymnastics can get in the way. It took me at least a couple decades before it dawned on me that being impressed is not necessarily the same thing as being moved (although it can be pretty magical when the two do happen to intersect). This emotionally-disconnected die-hard music fanatic remembers Newbold telling me about musical moments that moved him to tears, and I remember at the time thinking, I want me some of that.
Ticket stub for both NRBQ shows (spliced together) at Stache’s – Sept. 20, 1984
Newbold would rally a group of us to that first “life-changing” NRBQ show, which was promoted by School Kids Records’ Curt Schieber, interestingly enough. That first night’s performance was so incendiary, Newbold and I found ourselves standing in line for NRBQ’s second show, even though that had not been our original intention. Judy Pinger would tell me later that she and her friend, Diane, ran into the ‘Q between shows at the nearby 7/11, where she got an autograph from the late great drummer, Tom Ardolino (“Tom Ardolino at 7/11” it would read in hilarous deadpan fashion), who was reading Mad Magazine at the time (as noted by Judy in the comment below).
Oh, dear: it says “T.C. & the Cats” was the opener! Don’t tell Mark Wyatt, or he’ll pull the plug on this blog. but wait – didn’t RC Mob fill in at the last minute, Judy?
My roommate, R.J. Rothchild, however, surprised us all by leaving after the first show, rightly surmising the improbability of “lightning striking twice” with the same intensity. R.J. turned out to be right (much to my frustration) but of course, I lied when we met up later and told him that the second NRBQ performance was just as amazing as the first. I’m a horrible liar, and I’m pretty certain R.J. saw right through me.
Loveable cut-ups: The RC Mob (with original drummer) switch instruments
Hold on a blippity minute – isn’t this supposed to be a piece about The RC Mob? Right!
As it happened, a local band from Columbus – The Royal Crescent Mob – would open for NRBQ that warm September night in 1984. It always frustrated me terribly (and I suspect, Big Car Jack‘s Ed Goldstein, as well) that ‘The Mob’ had found a way to forge funk and rock in the same combustible way as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, although history would fail to take sufficient note of this “musical synchronicity.” You can see for yourself: the Chili Peppers released their first album that same year, 1984, thus proving that both bands were independently mining the same musical vein, albeit from different parts of planet Earth.
Even worse, although the RC Mob would amuse the crowd at the NRBQ show with their rockin’ version of The Ohio Players‘ 1975 radio hit, “Love Rollercoaster” (which The Mob then laid down on tape the following year on 1985 album, Land of Sugar), the Chili Peppers would steal the Mob’s thunder 11 years later by releasing a hit version that everyone now associates with the former and not the latter, who almost certainly gave them the idea. Oh, the injustice!
“Love Rollercoaster” would be included in the TV ad for K-Tel’s mindbending LP
The scuttlebutt at the time was that The Mob’s guitarist used to mow the lawn for one of the Ohio Players! Ed Goldstein and I would marvel at the band’s formidable rhythm section each time we had the opportunity to see The Mob when they took their seismic road show to Cincinnati. This rhythm section would include not just bassist, Harold Chichester, and drummer, Carlton, but also guitarist, B, who never took a guitar solo — a concept that completely bent my mind. Still does.
Washington-area readers (if, indeed, they exist) might be intrigued to learn that The RC Mob once tore up DC’s fabled 9:30 Club in 1987, back when the venerable venue was kissing cousins (abstract Abe Lincoln reference – get it?) with Ford’s Theater and locally famous for (a) “that smell” and (b) guaranteed encounters with over-sized rats should you dare to venture behind the club. Land of Sugar would also feature stand-out original track, “Get Off the Bus” which may not be as supportive of mass transit as I imagined it to be. In fact, the lyric would seem to advocate otherwise, shockingly:
“Get On (or Off?) the Bus” Royal Crescent Mob at DC’s 9:30 Club July 26, 1987
Just now discovered the source of my confusion: The song would be titled “Get Off the Bus” for Land of Sugar but then (mysteriously) re-titled “Get On the Bus” two years later for 1987 album Omerta. This immediately brings to mind John Lennon’s similar sort of ambivalence when he sang the following lyric on the White Album version of “Revolution”: “But when you talk about destruction, don’t you know you can count me out … in.” Yep, the two situations are completely analogous.
Think of a band whose studio recordings never came close to matching the power of the group’s live performances. Zero to 180’s list would include The RC Mob, and this blogger cries tears of pity for those who never got to witness the band at the peak of their power.
Royal Crescent Mob (L to R): Harold Chichester, B, David Ellison, Carlton smith
“The reason the place stayed open when [former owner] Pete [Herman] was here was because of Curt ,’ [current/final owner, Dan] Dougan said. The ‘Curt’ who Dougan is referring to is Curt Schieber, host of WWCD 101’s ‘Invisible Hits Hour.’ Schieber, one time co-owner of Schoolkids and Used Kids Records plus his own production and record label, started bringing shows to Stache’s under the label No Other Presents in 1983. ’We were doing things in 1983, bringing in the kind of shows, that had never been played in Columbus,’ Schieber said. Schieber and his partner Mark Moormann went out of their way to bring acts which might be considered Alternative or Underground music.’ We knew there was an audience for it, because we were selling the records,’ Schieber said. Schieber brought such bands as The Violent Femmes, The Replacements and The Butthole Surfers through Stache’s doors.’ Stache’s has always been able to offer a well balanced diet of music,’ Schieber said. Schieber brought his final band to Stache’s in 1988.
The bands didn’t stop coming to Columbus. Stache’s has continued to bring in a wide variety of talent. The Red Hot Chili Peppers [see what I mean? aargh! -editor], Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden and Nirvana are just a few of the better known names that have played the venue, Dougan said. Stache’s has also supported local bands. ’I think the bands in Columbus are great,’ Dougan said. ‘Columbus audiences don’t realize how great the bands are here.’ Stache’s has given artists, who may not be well known to mainstream society, a chance to play, and for Dougan that is what the bar is about, Dougan said. ’It’s not about what’s going to be the next big thing. It’s the other shows, that aren’t big, that make it work; artists who are good at their craft,’ Dougan said. Whoever they are coming to see, Stache’s does have it’s regulars. Lisa Mirman, a sophomore majoring in philosophy, has been visiting the club for 12 years. ‘It’s my favorite hole in the wall,’ Mirman said. ‘It’s the only place to see a band.’
Dougan plans to open a new bar, ‘Little Brothers,’ in the Short North in the old Gene’s Furniture building. ’Same attitude but a little bigger,’ Dougan said. Up until the move Dougan will host a series of benefit shows to finance the new location. The next benefit will be Nov. 27 and at this time Ishkabible and Dog Rocket have signed on to play. Stache’s may be closing, but the memories remain in the stories of the many people who have spent time there. Like the time The Red Hot Chili Peppers played in jock straps [here we go again – sigh], Dougan said. Or, when Sun Ra had 15 people on stage including a group of fire eaters. There is even a rumor that a Stache’s patron smashed out the windows of Nirvana’s van because Kurt Cobain flirted with the patron’s girlfriend. But, when asked about that rumor Dougan just smiled and said, ‘no comment.”
* Johnny Davis would also celebrate Dan Morgan and Stache’s under-sung role in fueling the vitality of Columbus’s 1980s local scene in his piece “Stashed Away” for Columbus Magazine.
Post-Fern (and pre-Zero to 180), Chris Richardson would pursue a teaching degree at (pre-“The”) Ohio State University, while enjoying the process of multi-track recording on a roommate’s Fostex 4-track “mini studio.” Future Fern manager and musician-in-training, Tom Newbold, would attend the same university and once arrange for a group of fellow OSU students to attend their first NRBQ live appearance in 1984 — a life-changing experience for all in attendance, as the band was especially combustible that night (Newbold would also stage periodic road trips to Cincinnati to see similarly incendiary performances of The Raisins).
WGUC’s PR director pulled strings for son to be model in 1978 ad for radio guide
Weekly bass lessons at OSU’s Evans Scholars fraternity house would also have a profound effect on Richardson, as budding bassist Newbold would expose the future music blogger to the counter-intuitive supposition that it is possible to write intelligently (Robert Christgau, Dave Marsh, Robert Palmer, Peter Guralnik, Lester Bangs) about popular music, including rock and other “beat” musics. Newbold would plant a seed that only required 30 years or so to take root.
The Max (possibly) recording “I Think I Love You” at WGUC’s Studio, 1980
[L to R] Michael Andrew Frank, Keith Bortz, Chris Richardson
Post-graduation, Richardson remembers seeing early Bachelors of Art gigs in Cincinnati, where he would begin his career as a classroom teacher for a primary arts school (with a Rookwood water fountain in the main hall) located directly across – coincidentally enough – former Fern venue, Shipley’s, in the University of Cincinnati area.
This Week @ Shipleys — August, 1984
Richardson would spend his final year in Cincinnati working on a very personal piece – an ecumenical plea for peace, love and understanding – whose lush, swirling mix attempts to trick listeners into recognizing the shared humanity that binds us all. Richardson would finish the song by taking his Tascam 4-track Portastudio into the woodworking shop owned by friend, Bruce Batté, who then whipped out his tenor sax one weekend afternoon in 1991 and (despite having reed issues that day) laid down some nice horn lines:
[Pssst: Click on triangle above to play “One (Love)” pop dub mix]
Richardson plays bass, guitar, organ, and drum machine parts, mixing the lead guitar lines and ghostly backing vocals so that the two parts switch places, left-to-right and back again, until just before Batté’s screaming sax takes over.
At one point during the recording process, Richardson would consult with Ed Goldstein (post-Head Band, pre-Big Car Jack), who also owned an Alesis drum machine. Richardson would be intrigued by Goldstein’s advice to subvert the equipment’s intended functionality to create new and not-yet-imagined possibilities, while at the same time encouraged by the percussionist’s approval of Richardson’s decision to excise one or two of the high-hat taps to make the drumming pattern sound a little more human-like.
There would be another pivotal learning moment later for Richardson, who – when introduced to a fellow bassist – would innocently inquire, “So, you play the bass guitar?” and be met with a steely, “No — I play bass.” Bass as in bottom. Bass as in the deep end of the sonic spectrum. Bass notes that are felt but not always necessarily heard. Year later I would hear Roger Troy lead his own band at a small club directly across the river from Cincinnati and see someone masterfully put this bass-as-bottom philosophy into action and make something “simple” look so easy when, in fact, quite the opposite is true.
Fern Bassist in Seinfeld-esque “Puffy shirt” @ Bogart’s – 1984
(Pre-Rocksteady Kid) Richardson would attempt to imbue his final Cincinnati recording with a particularly heavy, though supple, bottom-end sound. After relocating to the DC area in 1992, Richardson would since discover an attic-ful of classic Jamaican 60s & 70s reissues (many on CD for the first time) that revealed the existence of a vast though mostly underground “bass culture” — a musical concept that would not percolate upward into popular culture until the latter part of the 1990s when dub-style remixes became standard operating procedure on pop radio, as well as in clubs and concert venues.
minimalist rendering of Richardson at rest – by Mrs. Zero to 180
How could have I have lived through the Led Zeppelin era and not have known that their final studio release featured an inner sleeve that (like Donovan‘s Cosmic Wheels) began life as a monochromatic image but (unlike any album before or since) would magically burst with color when washed with water?! My eternal gratitude to Ed Goldstein of Big Car Jack for bringing this serious issue to my attention. But that’s not the whole story – Discogs.com has the info:
“[In Through the Out Door] featured an unusual gimmick: the album had an outer sleeve which was made to look like a plain brown paper bag (reminiscent of similarly packaged bootleg album sleeves with the title rubber stamped on it), and the inner sleeve featured black and white line artwork which, if washed with water, would become permanently fully coloured. There were also six different sleeves featuring a different pair of photos (one on each side), and the external brown paper sleeve meant that it was impossible for record buyers to tell which sleeve they were getting. (There is actually a code on the spine of the album jacket which indicated which sleeve it was—this could sometimes be seen while the record was still sealed.)
The pictures all depicted the same scene in a bar (in which a man burns a Dear John letter), and each photo was taken from the separate point of view of someone who appeared in the other photos. The bar is the Absinthe Bar [i.e., Jean Lafitte’s Old Absinthe House], located at  Bourbon Street in New Orleans, LA. The walls are covered with thousands of yellowed business cards and dollar bills. It was re-created in a London studio for the album sleeve design.”
“Magic Dot” inner sleeve – inspired by Jimmy Page’s daughter’s special coloring books
You can view all six sleeve designs by clicking here — additional related images can also be found at music blog, Stitches and Grooves. According to blogger, Codex99, In Through the Out Door, sadly, “marked not only the end of Led Zeppelin but of [legendary graphic design firm] Hipgnosis, as well.”
Led Zeppelin would record three songs for In Through the Out Door that would not make the final cut but instead be included on their “odds & sods” compilation, Coda, released two years after John Bonham’s tragic passing in 1980. My favorite of the three “rejected” tracks is “Wearing & Tearing” — recorded at Stockholm’s Polar Studios in November, 1978:
“Wearing and Tearing” Led Zeppelin 1978
Interesting to learn that “Wearing and Tearing” (along with fellow reject, “Darlene”) would be released in the UK as a 45 — the only question, though, is whether this single was a legitimate release. Says 45Cat contributor sixtiesbeat, “It’s well known that [matrix] #19421 was set aside for ‘Wearing And Tearing’ to be released at Knebworth in 1979. But as far as I know, the plan was scrapped and no 45s were actually pressed. I suspect that an enterprising bootlegger is trying to re-write history here.” Other 45Cat contributors, however, are not convinced. Yet another musical controversy.