Colin opens up his photo album for some rock & roll pics from 2023
Read MoreIn 1979 The Buttons Opened for Judas Priest; It Didn't Go Well - by Ricki C.
(editor's note: Ricki C. wanted to follow up Scott's Judas Priest blog with his own first-hand Priest story.)
Click here to read Scott's story
Sometime in early 1979 Willie Phoenix’s then-current band The Buttons opened for Judas Priest at the Agora Club here in Columbus, Ohio. (I tried to find the exact date utilizing the InterWideWeb, but couldn’t locate it in Judas Priest tour logs.) I was working as a roadie for The Buttons when that show took place. It was a bloodbath. For the uninitiated, it was roughly like The Raspberries (Eric Carmen’s pride of Cleveland, Ohio power-pop assemblage) opening for Black Sabbath in 1972 or so. (I guess in more contemporary terms it would be like Columbus’ The Whiles opening for Metallica.)
My job at that point on the road crew of The Buttons – at least when they played The Agora, which had a first-class lighting rig – was to run lights. Willie’s reasoning was that I knew all the songs, knew when the choruses, bridges & solos were going to come up and could do the most to highlight those changes. I was no Marc Brickman with Bruce Springsteen, but I have to admit (and simultaneously pat myself on the back), I became a pretty good lighting guy.
When the opening slot for Judas Priest came up, pretty much NOBODY on the band or crew were crazy about the idea. True, The Buttons (and Romantic Noise, the previous incarnation of The Buttons before a name change at the end of 1978) had become the go-to local Columbus band to open Agora shows. Previously Willie & the guys (Greg Glasgow on bass, John Ballor, lead guitar & drummer Dee Hunt) had opened shows for The Ramones, The David Johansen Group, Squeeze and a coupla others that slip my mind. (Later, after Dee & I left the organization they did a TRULY STUNNING opening set for Talking Heads at Mershon Auditorium. I witnessed that performance from the audience and DESPERATELY wished I could have been a part of it.)
But I digress……Did I say NOBODY in the band thought a Judas Priest opener was a good idea? No, WILLIE thought it was a good idea. Willie was a force of nature at that time (as he still shows flashes of to this day). He had a truly charismatic stage presence and a KILLER band to back him up. He knew no fear, no goal he set was unattainable, he admitted no limits. BUT – and this is a big but – opening for Judas Priest was another beast entirely. Playing in front of The Ramones’ or David Johansen’s crowds was a natural fit for the punk-edged power-pop of Romantic Noise and The Buttons; the Judas Priest mob of metalheads, quaalude-kings and West Side reprobates I had grown up with and amongst were another animal entirely. (My use of the word “animal” in this context borders more on the literal than the figurative.)
From my catbird seat at the lighting board up in the Agora balcony I could tell there were gonna be problems from the very beginning. When I brought the stagelights up after the Buttons had positioned themselves onstage there was this kind of low murmur of disapproval at the sight of five-foot two, black, dreadlock-sporting, left-handed Willie Phoenix center stage in some kind of Sgt. Pepper jacket.
Boos were starting before they played a note, but Willie cut ‘em off by counting in the first song of the set. After the first tune, not one person clapped. There were probably 750 people in the 1300 capacity Agora that night (this was well before Rob Halford’s arena days) and not one person clapped. In fact, nobody made a sound. It was the quietest I had ever heard that club. (One night in spring or summer 1978 Romantic Noise had played a no-publicity, virtually-unannounced Wednesday night show at the Agora and only SEVEN people showed up. And THAT audience was noisier than the Judas Priest crowd.)
Things never got better. By the end of the second song loud, sustained booing started ringing out. During the third tune the crowd started throwing stuff at the stage: cups, beer bottles, coins, sandwich wrappers, pieces of pizza (the Agora served food back in the day) began raining down on the band. Mid-set a CRUTCH flew out of the crowd and crashed into Dee’s drum-kit. (Three or four years after that night I was telling this story in a West Side bar and the guy who THREW that crutch was sitting at the table. “Hey, that was ME!” he slurred, “I had banged up my knee on my Harley and Security wouldn’t give me my crutch back. My buddies had to carry me out that night.”)
Partway through the set, Steve Sines – the lead singer of local band The Muff Brothers (later simply The Muffs) – sat down next to me at the lighting board. He’d been hired by the Agora to run lights that night for Judas Priest, who didn’t even carry their own lighting guy at that point. “Your boys are havin’ a rough time up there,” he said, lighting up a joint and offering it to me. “Yeah, I noticed,” I replied, declining the joint, feeling like I shouldn’t be enjoying myself up in the balcony as debris and boos washed over my employers down on the stage. I was nothing if not fiercely loyal to Willie & the guys.
The Buttons had stopped even pausing between songs in the set, powering right through from one song to the next, to not give the crowd time to catcall and throw beer. (I figure the whole thing was pretty much like when Watershed opened for The Insane Clown Posse, but with a lot less Faygo; and this was just one show, not an entire TOUR.) I give ‘em credit, they finished the 40-minute set. They never backed down for a minute. They battled that Judas Priest crowd to at least a stalemate.
During the last song, Willie took off his prized Les Paul Junior and bashed it to kindling on the Agora stage, Pete Townshend-style, giving his all to do ANYTHING to get a rise out of that audience, to salvage that set. “Can he AFFORD that?” Steve Sines asked, wide-eyed, the joint paused in mid-air as he took in Willie’s six-string destructo finish. “No, he cannot,” I said back to Steve, “no, he CAN NOT at all.” I would’ve walked off that stage after five songs. I wouldn’t have given that mob the time of day; Willie gave them his Les Paul. That is why Willie Phoenix is a rock star and I am a Pencilstorm writer. Willie, I salute you. – Ricki C. / February 26th, 2017
The Buttons / 1979
The Buttons / 1979 / "Hot Beat"
Judas Priest / 1979 / students, compare & contrast…….
Introducing THE Pencilstorm Hall of Fame Class of 2016
It wasn't easy, but after thousands of emails, hundreds of beers, countless text messages and even a cold stare or two around the Pencilstorm office, we are proud to announce the 2016 class of THE Pencilstorm Hall of Fame. As happy as we are for the winners, I'd like to remind those that didn't make the cut that there is always next year so don't give up hope. And thanks to all who packed the CD102.5 Big Room Bar for the induction ceremony and an amazing set by Willie Phoenix and The Soul Underground.
THE Pencilstorm Hall of Fame Class of 2016:
Willie Phoenix (Click here to read Ricki C. making the case for Willie)
Galaga (Click here to read Colin making the case for Galaga)
Guns and Roses Live from The Ritz 1988 (click here to read Big $ making the case for GnR)
The CD1025 Andymanathon (more on this coming soon)
Goodfellas "What's So Funny About Me?" scene. (Click here to read Wal making the case)
Mean Mr. Mustard's AC/DC - Cult night. ( Click here to read Wal making the case )
Mr. Show - Episode 22 "Show Me Your Weenis (more on this coming soon)
The Knack - Get The Knack (Scott Carr explains why he supports The Knack)
Ice Cold Canned Beer (more on this coming soon)
Willie Phoenix & the Soul Underground Set To Open Rosie Reunion Show at the LC, Friday October 23rd
The beating heart & soul of Columbus rock & roll - Willie Phoenix - will be opening the Rosie Reunion show this coming Friday, October 23rd at the LC. Doors are at 7 pm, the mighty Soul Underground (Myke Rock on bass, Kim Crawford on guitar & drummer-extraordinaire Jim Johnson) takes the stage promptly at 8 pm, so get out to the show early if you would like to witness the effortless command of a Big Stage that Willie Phoenix has been exhibiting in Columbus for close to 40 years.
Further, Willie's brand-new CD - Captain Psychedelic - will be available for sale at this show for the first time anywhere. Get 'em while they're hot.
(Incidentally, Pencilstorm's own Ricki C. will be wrangling guitars for Willie & the Soul Underground at this show, reprising a role he began in 1978 and continued up until 1990, when Ricki first met & befriended The Wire - soon to become Watershed - and established a friendship with Colin Gawel that continues to this day. Willie Phoenix has many times been the glue that binds the Columbus music scene together.)
Two FREE Songs from the Willie Phoenix Tribute Machine
Willie Phoenix Tribute Machine
“Hey Little Girl” b/w “Strike Up the Band”
Click here to check out the tunes!
or click here for FREE Soundcloud link
“Willie’s skin was the color of baker’s chocolate. He sang like Wilson Pickett, wore his Telecaster upside down like Hendrix, and had Elvis Costello’s gift for cutting a pop gem. He didn’t play second to James Brown when putting on a show. He’s as good as we’ve ever seen. Who else is there? Prince? Springsteen?” – Joe Oestreich, Hitless Wonder
If you Googled the name Willie Phoenix you wouldn’t learn much. Like another “Searching for Sugarman” it seems impossible that a musician with a career spanning thousands of songs, concerts & live gigs could still remain a virtual mystery in this day and age.
This much we know: Willie was born in Marion, Ohio, in 1952 and has done NOTHING but play rock n roll since 1975. He doesn’t drink or smoke. Nobody knows where he lives. Nobody has ever had his phone number. Bandmates would wait by their phones for a pay phone call from Willie for practice and gig information. He plays a show or records a new song every night. Always.
The Willie Phoenix Tribute Machine is an attempt by Columbus, Ohio, musicians to preserve Willie’s legacy and draw attention to his enormous talents, which have inspired and entertained so many people in Central Ohio over the past forty years. Please enjoy these free cover versions drawn from Willie’s back catalog, but more importantly, catch Willie playing live or drop him a line on Facebook and let him feel your love. PLEASE send all Willie Phoenix stories, pictures, or discography info to williepproject@gmail.com.
Click here to visit WilliePhoenix.com and all things Willie
A few words about the tunes, from Ricki C., longtime Phoenix roadie.
(For more on Willie, check out The Ballad of Willie Phoenix, on Ricki’s blog, Growing Old With Rock & Roll.)
“Hey Little Girl” – I can’t remember the first time I heard this song. I know it was from the first incarnation of The Buttons, circa early 1979 when Dee Hunt was still the drummer. (The recorded version, self-released by The Buttons on a 7-inch 45 in 1980, featured Jerry Hanahan on drums.) Willie was just putting so many new songs into the set back then, it would make your head spin. I’m pretty sure this was from a particularly Elvis Costello-inspired period that also brought “Take My Advice” into the repertoire.
“Strike Up The Band” – This was the third song I ever heard Willie play, from when I ventured out a week after The Great Blizzard of 1978 to see Romantic Noise on February 3rd, 1978. I have a heroically garbled tape of that show, made on one of those little dawn-of-time portable Panasonic cassette recorders, that I had brought to the show to interview Willie, for my punk fanzine, Teenage Rampage. (see blog referenced above) On that tape I can be heard saying – in reference to “Strike Up The Band” – “This sounds like the 1910 Fruitgum Company crossed with The Ramones.” I stand by that statement to this day in 2015. It was Willie’s early genius to cross classic pop with punk intensity into one of the greatest mixtures of power-pop I have ever witnessed.
Ricki C. Turns Down a Roadie Job With The Replacements
Click here for previous Mats' article - "Tommy Stinson is the George Harrison of the Replacements"
It was the winter of 1984, I had just left my day-job at Ross Laboratories in January. (Ross Labs, by the way, was simultaneously my highest paying AND easiest warehouse job ever, but also came with a boss who once called me into his office and told me, quote – “I am going to make it so you don’t have one single interest outside of this job.” – when I dragged-ass into work one too many Monday mornings after roadie-ing for Willie Phoenix & the Shadowlords all weekend. He was wrong. I quit.) One cold morning in February I got a phone call from Curt Schieber, who was then the co-owner of Schoolkids Records on campus and local promoter of “alternative” rock shows. (Curt is currently the host of Invisible Hits Hour Sunday nights on CD 102.5.)
It seems The Replacements were headed from Ann Arbor, Michigan, to Columbus for a show that week when their van broke down. They had it towed to Krieger Ford on the West Side and the band was all crashing at Curt’s house. (We should get Curt to write an entire separate blog about the amount of damage done to his home by the band that week.) (Also the amount of drugs & alcohol ingested by said band.) Anyway, the band’s manager – Peter Jesperson – needed to run errands that day, Curt knew I wasn’t working and asked if I wanted to make a quick $50 driving Jesperson around all day. (Note: asking an unemployed West Side boy if he wants to make a quick $50 is like asking Colin if he wants a beer at a gig.)
I picked Jesperson up around 11 am at Curt’s house near campus. The band was splayed around the living room in sleeping bags, sound asleep & snoring. I don’t really remember all the places we had to go that day, but at one point we drove out to see how the van repair was coming along at Krieger. Peter decided while we were there that we might as well get a load of laundry together so we could hit a laundromat. When he slid open the side door of the van I couldn’t believe my eyes: EVERY SURFACE of that van was covered with beer cans, liquor bottles, fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts, porn magazines & other sundry garbage. We literally COULD NOT TOUCH the actual floor of the van from the dashboard to the back door as Peter & I bundled around picking through the debris for articles of clothing: a flannel shirt here, some t-shirts there, jeans spread around everywhere. (I wouldn’t TOUCH the underwear; that was their manager’s job, as I saw it. I was only makin’ fifty bucks.)
By that point, in 1984, I had been a musician since I was 16 years old in 1968, a roadie since 1978. I had been in a LOT of band vans, and I had NEVER laid eyes on anything like the condition of that vehicle.
By the end of the day, Jesperson and I were getting along like old buddies from the war. He mentioned that Curt had told him I was a roadie and a recovering alcoholic. Jesperson said they were looking for somebody sober to drive the van and help roadie the shows, offered me the job. My family was proudly Italian, I had started drinking wine with dinner at age 12, mixed-drinks by 14 with total parental approval. I was solidly an alcoholic from 16 to 30. And I just couldn’t get the sight of the floor of that van out of my head. I KNEW I hadn’t been sober long enough, knew I wasn’t strong enough to counter that brand of temptation. (I had moved from the West Side to up around Northland just to put some literal distance between me and my old drinking buddies.)
The Replacements stayed at Curt’s house for a week on that tour – renting vans each day to make it to gigs in Ohio & Kentucky, and then driving back to Columbus to crash – until their van was repaired. Looking back, I should have gone along on those short hauls just to see if my sobriety would hold up. But I didn’t: shoulda, coulda, woulda.
I have very few rock & roll regrets in this life: one of them is turning down a job writing for England’s New Musical Express in 1978; the other, perhaps bigger, regret is not being smart enough or strong enough to become a roadie for The Replacements in 1984. – Ricki C. / Sept. 10th, 2014.
ps. It's been brought to my attention that my contributions to Replacements Week here at Pencilstorm might lead people to believe that I'm not that crazy about Westerberg & the guys. NOTHING could be further from the truth. From the very first time I heard "I'm In Trouble" in some now-forgotten campus record store - remember when you could still discover great new music IN A RECORD STORE? - I was hooked. And, as time went on and Westerberg's songwriting got better & better - from "Take Me Down To The Hospital" > "Unsatisfied" > "Kiss Me On The Bus" > "Left Of The Dial" > "Within Your Reach" > "Here Comes A Regular" > "I'll Be You" - CHRIST, what more are you gonna ask for than that from one guy from Minneapolis? Plus the fact that Westerberg could move effortlessly from "Alex Chilton" to "Skyway" - from flat-out rocker to killer ballad - in the same breath and on the same album, put him in a league with Pete Townshend, Ray Davies, Ian Hunter & Bruce Springsteen, four of my other all-time favorite rock & roll songwriters.
I just wish they'd've rehearsed a little more, or drank a little less, or tried a little harder when they played live.
pps. Apropos of the Replacements appearance on Jimmy Fallon's show earlier in the week, and the song "Alex Chilton" in general: The Westerberg line (which I love, make no mistake) "Children by the millions wait for Alex Chilton when he comes 'round" is either the hugest overstatement or the biggest lie ever rendered in a rock & roll lyric. I would venture to say that even at the peak of the popularity of The Box Tops - when "The Letter" hit Number One in 1967 and was awarded a gold record - that children by the millions DID NOT, in fact, wait for Alex Chilton when he came 'round-'ound. I think even Alex Chilton would have concurred. But God bless Paul Westerberg for making the claim. (Conversely, the bridge-statement/advice - "Never travel far / Without a little Big Star" - might be the TRUEST, MOST ACCURATE rock & roll lyric ever penned.) - Ricki C. / Sept. 13th, 2014.
Learn more about Ricki C. and other Pencilstorm contributors by clicking here.