It would be enough if a band like the Unband had only one hurrah. There would be plenty of material from one tour with Def Leppard alone to write or not write hundreds of pages on events, non-events, possible events, or events that you could not confirm or deny happening.

But no, they had to go and tour with Dio. And as if the “Man on the Silver Mountain,” wasn’t enough, add the “plodding sausage party” Anthrax to the mix, and we’ve reached absurdity faster than any before us.

“I didn’t expect the Unband to go as far as it did, which was in fact not very far,” said Ruffino.

Much like the band itself, how a book ever managed to be published, seems puzzling and unexplainable.

“I never decided to write the book,” said Ruffino. “I’m not sure how the whole thing started. These things began coming out in the New York Press. Suddenly there was an opportunity to write a book. Eventually it seemed unavoidable.”

Had a good long chat with Ronnie James Dio about the state of things—about what to do when people throw shit at you (he says stop the show, I say throw it back), debated the matter for quite some time and what it comes down to is, he’s Ronnie James Dio. (Ruffino, pg. 144)

People who claim to be “punk,” aren’t punk. No, I’m afraid you can’t drink a Pabst, buy plaid pants and a chain wallet, and give yourself that title. It’s earned. I’ve handed out many titles but affixing the “punk” tag to anything is always dubious, confusing, debatable, and whole heartedly ____________ (insert adjective here).

But I’d say for the common Joe, Fred, Frank or Margaret, punk = chaos.

While the true definition will be the cause and non-cause (peace punks) of numerous wars, it’s safe to say the Unband is the closest thing to said “punk,” that I’ve ever seen.

Getting pieces of steel hurled at you is unfortunate. Playing an entire set through such projectiles without a second thought is “punk.” Then again perhaps I’m getting “punk,” confused with “drunk.” Then again maybe they’re synonyms.

“The physical danger that was around us, I can’t say I had many concerns,” said Ruffino. “We were just doing what we were supposed to do. But when a six-foot piece of rebar is tossed at you like a spear, I have concerns.”

Until you’re in a rock ‘n’ roll band, and have been on a bill you absolutely didn’t fit on, most people can have no idea what that adjective “concern,” really means.

“Not only did we get absolute shit from the crowd, back stage it was the same,” said Ruffino. “It was a sandwich of hate and disrespect.”

Through such experiences, Ruffino might have been left with a distorted view of the world. Sipping a “restorative screwdriver,” during our interview and referring to good shows as ones where “nobody tried to kill me,” he claims his day to day life isn’t all that far off from adventures in “Gentlemanly Repose.”

“In the sense that nothing really makes any sense and you’re living way beyond your means –my life is pretty much like that every day,” said Ruffino. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for it all that I haven’t realized yet.”

“I considered asking a total stranger to summarize the fall of The Unband, provided he had never heard of it. Exhaustion, conspiracy, tornado, booze, lists, women, money, shake-ups at mega-corp, artistic differences, druggings, the giant inflatable Hand of Fate. It’s the same story, even when the most important part is that it isn’t. Anyone could tell it cold. That’s the whole joke right there:

Guy walks into a bar.” (Ruffino, pg. 204)

Will the Unband ever get back together? No one seems to know, but it doesn’t look good. For the tale that the band has become, that’s either a good or bad thing depending on how you look at it.

“There was a pretty set sort of circumstances that destroyed our band,” said Ruffino. “Our whole thing was that it’s cliché to begin with, so it’s kind of inevitable to slip into the very same pattern. We chose our poison and we drank a whole lot of it.”

-FIN-