Tigger and Pooh and Kay Hanley, too!

The Rockinest Chick in the 100-Acre Wood!

I met Kay Hanley in the early 1990's when her new local band, Letters to Cleo, was playing often at The Tam in Brookline. I was a regular there; drinking, playing and doing sound for other bands. Kay was very young (and cute) and the band was really green. The first version of Letters was, well, not good. I remember the first couple times I saw them I thought there was talent there and Kay was charismatic but the band was just not happening. Then they changed personelle around and like, overnight, they got good. The next time I saw them they were really hot. New drummer and bass-player as I recall. Good songs, too. It all gelled and pretty soon people were coming to see them and there was a buzz and then buzz became a following and I wanted to produce them. But so did Q-Division's Mike Deneen. I remember the first time he showed up at The Tam to see them. I was there and was fuming that he was sniffing around the kids. Apparently what happened next is the band had a meeting to decide who they were going to work with; me or Mike. I got a couple votes (and from what I've been told Kay was one of them) but Deneen won. They made their CD, first released locally on CherryDisc, then licensed to a major and they got the song on Melrose Place and boom, L to C and Kay Hanley exploded, big time. Kay moved to LA years ago, and does a lot of work for Disney. (I have actually wondered at times if she actually/secretly IS the voice of Miley Cyrus). She has made a nice career for herself along with her husband/producer Michael Eisenstein. I've been at both Patriots games and Red Sox games where she sang the National Anthem. I like how Kay still boosts the Boston Sports scene. She has kids of her own now, but keeps the career chuggun' along. Shes' a regular Tweeter, Face-booker and blogger.

But my favorite thing Kay Hanley has done lately is this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Se6mqCKaWGg

My Friends Tigger and Pooh is our son Drew's favorite show!

Kay, please make the autograph out to Little Drew Townson....

Dead Air

Rock is Dead, Long Live Rock!

The Rock of Boston Signs Off.

I have a heavy heart this morning. WBCN, 104.1 is gone. Of course, the "Rock of Boston" that we loved so well has been gone for awhile, thanks to the global re-programming of once-independent media. A lot of people don't know this, but 'BCN is the direct reason I moved to Boston from Dallas in 1985. I followed a girl here who had been hired, by Oedipus, to be a 'BCN rock-jock. You may remember her; Lisa "Trax Spins Great Wax" Traxler.

Through 'BCN I met rock stars and never missed a big event. I was backstage, I was in the air-studio, I was even on the 'BCN party boat when they had the annual fireworks. I met all the jocks and the non-air people. I played the Rumble. I did sound for bands at The Rumble. I drank cold Stoli shots with Mark Parenteau, talked sports with Bill Abbate, and sat at a studio console with Carter Allen. I gave Tami Heide a ride home once when she was a little too tipsy after a big Boston rock-scene party at The Hard Rock. I was at a small, by-invitation solo performance by Elton John. Through 'BCN I did a mixing session for Roger Waters (and he bought me beer -- on a Sunday). Eddie Van Halen left a half-a-dozen crushed cans of Schlitz Malt Liquor in the back of my car. It was high times in the Hub for young Drew.

(Lest I forget: I engineered 50 live broadcasts on WBCN from 1988 to 1990).

But my experience is a small speck on the big 'BCN picture. 'BCN was a lot more than a radio station. It was a part of the culture of Boston when Boston was a big important rock-music mecca. It was the capitol of rock. If not for 'BCN we might never have heard of Bonnie Raitt, Bruce Springsteen, or U2. WBCN was one of the greatest and most important rock radio stations in the world, and should go down in history as the phenomenon that it was.

It was free-form. It was a rebel. It was a generation. It was independent. It was a force of nature. A booming voice. In the world of Rock, 'BCN was a giant. 'BCN rocked like a fuckin' hurricane. 'BCN kicked ass and took names. It sounds corny, but 'BCN really was the soundtack or our life and times back then.

No matter how big 'BCN's britches were, the station never stopped supporting the Boston local music scene. Hearing my record on 'BCN was one of the highlights of my young life. Oedipus and Carter Allen understood that you had to continue mining for new fresh talent, cool new sounds. When they found something good, they promoted it. They knew the next Bono could emerge from a basement in Allston.

It's a sad testament to the times that the 'BCN era has passed -- pushed out by increasing homoginization of, well, everything. Traditional radio as we know it is dying faster than Axl Rose's brain cells. Thank you CBS for killing one of the last great icons of Boston Rock's Glory Days.

As they used to say at the station in the '80's, "B-C'N Ya!"

Rock on old friend, rock on!

Rock-Jock Generation:'BCN Airstaff in The Golden Era, circa '87

¿Quién Eres?

Personal Effects Gettin' Trippy on the Scorgie's Stage, 1983

Seems like when I DO have the rare opportunity to Blog on "Drew-Who: Boston Rock Stories" the topic has often been something that didn't happen in Boston. This posting, like a few others, pre-dates me living here in The Hub. It's funny how your recollections reach farther and farther back as you get older.

In the ealy '80s, I was immersed in the Rochester, NY New Music scene. "Rochester, NY," you may ask, "What ever happened there?" Well, for a few brightly burning years Rochester had an underground music scene as important and vibrant as any in the US, or even Europe for that matter. It was a perfect place for a 20-year-old college kid like me.

The bands that blazed were New Math, The Chesterfield Kings, Personal Effects, The PressTones, Absolute Grey, The Cliches, and many others.

Ground Zero for this scene was a old night-club called Scorgie's. Scorgie's was the CBGB or The Rat of Rochester. Like Boston's Rat, it was a bar upstairs, and the stage was down in the low-ceiling cellar. In fact, NY and Boston acts like Willie Alexander, Johnny Thunders and even The Ramones played Scorgie's. The Cramps, Rockats, Go Go's, Bangles and many others played at Scorgie's, too. The bar became a major stop on the "underground railroad" on which punk and new wave bands toured. It had a fantastic stage with great lights and a sound-system that blew away the ones at CB's and The Rat. Another plus was that the drinking age was 18 back then, which really helped the scene thrive.

One of the bands that resided at Scorgie's (and I say "resided" because they played there at least monthly for years) was Personal Effects. The singer for Personal Effects was a muse and multi-instrumentalist by the name of Peggi Fornier. She and her husband Paul Dodd wrote and directed PE's journey in to an arty, trippy kind of boho-rock where space-delayed saxophone and tremulous keyboards floated from a smoky stage. The show itself was filled with lights and projected images. It was like an Andy Warhol art-loft show, 1980's version. Funny thing was, about 4 years before Personal Effects emerged, Peggi Fornier had been my high-school Spanish teacher. Yes! And she was not a fan of me - and deservedly so. But that's another story. So naturally, I wanted to see what her band was all about. I became a huge fan, ultimately attending the release party for their debut EP, just prior to departing Rochester for good in 1983.

So here we are today (25 years on) living in the era of blogs and web-sites, where 40 and 50-somethings are rebuilding the past on-line, admittedly with a rose-tint to the view; a soft focus dailed-in by nostalgia. In 1994, Scorgie's went the way of CBGB's and The Rat, but it lives on today in cyberspace. There are dozens af blogs and sites related to the club and the early '80s Rochester Scene. (Let's face it, with Rochester weather being what it is, people have a lot of inside time to blog about the past). Last November, a genuine Scorgie's Reunion took place in Rochester, and even Kevin Patrick, for decades now a major-label A&R guru*, returned to reprise his role as lead singer of New Math. CORRECTION (per Peggi Fournier): Another singer stood-in for Kevin, channeling him astonishingly well.

Here's a Scorgie's Hub Site from where you can navigate to many other Rochester 80's sites, including current sites by the bands themselves. Scorgie's Blog

Personal Effects Video, "Low Riders" filmed at Scorgie's 1983

New Math Back Then

New Math Now (at Scorgie's Reunion, 2008)

* A funny side-bar: When I was working on Heretix' Island Records sessions in '88 and '89, Keven Patrick was the A&R guy. He was on the phone with the studio every day checking on progress and making sure we were sending daily DAT roughs of our work.

My Friend Boo

Fargo Townson, 1996 to 2009, R.I.P.

Bernadette and I are heartbroken tonight. Fargo Townson (I called him Boo), our best friend for 13 years, went to sleep today. He was looking at me with his soulful eyes as he closed them for the last time. He had the heart of a puppy right up to the end. He was my first dog, and I will never forget him. He taught me the meaning of unconditional love. With Boo I learned about life's simplest and most precious pleasures -- playing ball with my dog. Playing fetch. Walking with him, running with him, chasing and being chased by him. Getting my face licked to smithereens by him. Making a grown man in to a little boy. I learned there is nothing like the companionship of a dog. These are the memories that you remember when it's your turn to "go to sleep". He was a comedian and a clown, and with a heart so sweet. He was a champ, whose only goal in life was to be with us and please us. Everyone who ever met Fargo fell in love with him, and he loved them, too. He was a truly special dog. I remember in his younger days, he was so handsome that everywhere we went, people - total strangers - would shout, "Beautiful Dog!" or, "He's a champ!" When we were out walking kids would always come over to meet and greet him. That's why we called him "The Mayor of The Neighborhood." Through thick and thin, he was my buddy; the best buddy a guy could ever have. Farewell Boo, my good boy, my good good boy. I WILL MISS YOU FOREVER.


Me an' Baby Boo, February 1997

Twang 'em High! Ready to Ride!!!

Here we come, hombres. We're a-fixin to ride in to town and a-shoot things up real good! Better have plenty of whiskey and coffins at the ready!

Yes, it's true. After over two years hiatus from fronting a band, Drew will premier his new outfit, Twang 'em High! this Fiday night, Feb. 13 at Sally O'Brien's in Somerville. It's the monthly Honky Tonk night, hosted by The Dave Sammarco band -- Drew will also be playing guitar with Sammarco, so it's a full night of twangin' and bangin' for Drewcifer.

See ya when the gunsmoke clears! Yeeeeehaaww!

Remembering Ian

Back in the Daze: Ian and me, circa 1988. Note the little jug of Tullamore Dew next to Ian.

Ian Clarkson, 1960 - 2009

It’s true that when a friend or loved one passes on, memories long locked-away come flowing like tears into the mind’s eye. Even though I have not seen Ian in many years, my friendship with him in high-school, college and well beyond will always provide me with delightful recollections and stories (some more tart than others!). When I heard the sad news last night, the first memory that popped in to my mind was from October of 2000, the last time I saw Ian in-person. My beloved Dad had passed away and we were having the funeral, a full military honors ceremony, at Mount Hope cemetery. Unexpectedly and to my pleasant surprise, Ian showed up to express his condolences to me and my sister Dana. He’d seen the obit in the paper, and was the only one of my classmates to attend. That told me a lot about his character. Then again, I always knew Ian was a good soul. He looked great, too, wearing a nice jacket and tie and had a very healthy appearance. After the funeral we all retired to a nearby pub where Ian and I talked and drank and reminisced like the old mates we were. He really seemed to have his life on-track.

Ian and I met senior-year at Allendale, and immediately liked each other. We both wore turtlenecks, which was the way around having to wear a tie every day. Very subversive! It was the following year, however, as roommates and frat brothers at Wittenberg University that we became best buddies. Our friendship continued well after college. I hung out at his house on Rossiter and got to know his family. I remember Ian taking me in to his darkroom there, where he taught me how to develop photos. I learned that Ian was brilliantly intelligent. I don’t know what his IQ was, but it was higher than mine – and mine’s not low. He was ingenious and inventive and innovative. Like MacGyver from TV, he could make a cannon out of a tennis ball tube in about 30 seconds! Now that I think back on it, Ian rarely ceased to amaze me. I admired him.

For hours we could talk science, politics, and music. We mused about those heavy subjects idealistic college kids like to contemplate, like the universe, the meaning of life, and “all that rot” as Ian might say. Thanks to his parents, educators who came from Britain and Ireland, Ian was as articulate as any person I’ve ever known, always using proper King’s English. Indeed, he almost had an British accent. He was elegantly soft spoken. I don’t believe I ever heard him raise his voice. He was soulful. He was subtle. He was humble. He was self-deprecating. And unlike me, Ian rarely seemed bothered by anything. He was always cool and smooth.

Above all, Ian Clarkson was a charming man. He charmed me and everyone else his life touched. You wanted Ian to like you. You wanted to be his friend. He could be very magnetic. He could talk to anyone about anything. Ian always put you at ease. That’s what charming people do. One part of his charm was he always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which in-fact, he had. But that was endearing. And not for nothing, Ian knew how to charm the ladies back in our school days. He was a big-time chick-magnet, although he’d never admit it.

I’ll close this memoire with my fondest memory of Ian; another one that had not entered my mind in over 25 years. It’s actually more of an image, a dreamy image, than a memory. In the spring of our freshman year at Wittenberg, as the days started to lengthen and warm, Ian and I would raise the window of our first-floor dorm room, which opened out on to a large courtyard that was adjacent to The Common. We’d put a speaker in the window, drop the needle on our favorite record -- in my memory it’s The Outlaws’ “Green Grass and High Tides” -- turn up the volume, and go out in the courtyard. Once there, we’d toss the Frisbee. Ian was not just good at spinning the ‘Bee, as we called it; he was amazing. We’d have a relaxing game of Frisbee in the warm day, allowing our school stresses to melt away. Mostly we didn’t even converse. We’d get in to a whole Frisbee Zen state. So this is the soft-focus image I’ll hold in my memory forever: A 19 year old, skinny and tousle-haired Ian, wearing jeans and a loose shirt, standing there in the golden late-afternoon sun, firing a disk my way. When my time comes, I know that’s how I’ll see him. He’ll be waiting for me there in the courtyard with a cold beer, a Frisbee, and a smile. And in that smoky voice of his he’ll say, “Hello brother. Fancy a little ‘Bee?”

For Ian, 2009

Ian Clarkson Obituary, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle

Reddy Teddy, Willie Loco and Robin Lane to Bust Charts Again!

See This Show!

Having not moved here to Boston until late 1985, I missed a lot of the earlier, groundbreaking Boston Rock history. I never made the scene at The Tea Party, never saw Aerosmith play at a high-school, or U2 as the opening band at an unsold-out Paradise. I only saw later versions of The Neighborhoods, Lyres and Nervous Eaters. Nonetheless, I am still facinated by the history of Boston rock, and have over the years become acquainted with some of those who made it. I have shared a stage, a dressing room, a smoke, a drink or a laugh with the likes of Willie Alexander, Asa Brebner, Billy Loosigian, Robin Lane, Peter Wolf, Dave Minehan, Darren Hill, Carter Allen, Reeves Gabrells, Duke Levine, and many more. I've talked guitars with Joe Perry, hung out with touring rock-stars beneath the stage at The Orpheum, and logged countless nights at The Rat (upstairs, downstairs, balcony, stage, soundboard, and most memorably the grimy, stinky "band room" behind the stage). I've met Bernie Taupin and Elton John at an invitation-only event on Landsdowne street, and even mixed sound for Paul Simon at a private fundraiser in The South End. I have engineered sessions for Aimee Mann, and once mixed front-of-house on a New Year's Eve at "The Gahden". So, yeah, I got in and swam around in Boston's famous dirty water for a while.

I now happen to be a sometimes guitarist in the Dave Sammarco Band, where Scott Baerenwald, one of those Boston Rock History figures, is a sometimes bassist. Scott was a member of the short-lived but brightly-burning '70's power-pop group Reddy Teddy, after which he was an original Chartbuster with Robin Lane -- which brings me (finally) to the point of this Blog. Well, there are two points, actually. First, there's a big reunion show coming up this Saturday night at The Middle East, featuring Reddy Teddy, who are celebrating the release of a new CD, Willie Alexander, Robin Lane with The Chartbusters and more. Guess wht I won'r be there? Riigghhtt! Because I have a gig with Dave Sammarco at The Pleasant Cafe in Maynard. And speaking of Boston Rock history, Maynard was once home to a famous recording studio called Northern Studios, where Reddy Teddy recorded, among many other notables. So, get out to this once-a-generation show and see how Boston Rock was made, by the people who made it!

Second, I had almost forgotten about a song I recorded back in about '92; one of my originals, called "Haunted Train". Robin Lane had seen my band The Derangers play the song at The Cavern Club (in the cellar of the original Boston Hard Rock Cafe on Clarendon Street-- now long gone) and she liked the song so much she asked to sing on it. Naturally I was honored and more than willing to say yes. So we did it, and it has really never seen the light of day. Listening to it now, I think it's a pretty good song, and I'm going to bring it back in to the repetoire of my new band, "Twang 'em High!". If you'd like to hear "Haunted Train, just click on the link to our MySpace page below. You'll fiind the song there, in all its Robin Lane-afied glory. Be patient, her voice does not appear until a couple of minutes in to the song, harmonizing with me on the chorus.

Twang 'em High on MySpace

Some other cool links:

Boston Phoenix interview with Robin Lane and The Chartbusters

Reddy Teddy Website and History

Boston Groupie News on Reddy Teddy