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MENACED BY
NIGHTINGALES |
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1982 |
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1984 I doctored my birth certificate on my parent’s photostat machine and begged a ride to NYC from my boss’s wife. I had called the club’s answering machine an endless string of times over the past couple of months to constantly confirm. DANCETERIA. NYC. HANOI ROCKS. TWO NIGHTS ONLY. Both nights I was front and center (close enough to later appear in the press photos). Complete overload. Too much to process. Nasty Suicide, bands of hair locked in his mouth. Michael Monroe fascinates; mesmerizing and taunting. In medusa. And Andy McCoy, spitting, staggering and utterly, defiantly laying waste. |
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| After, in a moment of living, I followed crewmembers through a door in the club’s entry and wandered alone down a hall to the lit backstage dressing room. Unfolding the band’s flyer from my back pocket with pen and tongue in hand I made the rounds of the room. Andy, on the couch, flu-fevered and intimidating. Michael, in the back corner, turning to stone. And then Razzle. Kind and generous. We talked Thunders and Heartbreakers’ reunions and my mind exploded on the back wall. | |
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1986 Again NYC. This time the Cat Club. Cherry Bombz. At the right of the stage Warner Hodges, a refugee from Jason & The Scorchers, is handing Andy guitars and cigarettes [flashback, years earlier, once again an underage stowaway. Sitting in the pews of a once church now skinned to a club. Warner, on stage, a cigarette in each nostril, head bandaged in clouds, pants around his ankles, bashing out Black Sabbath to Jason’s Hank Williams. Early lessons in punk rock]. I’ve never had anyone tell me this was their memory of that night, but in my memory as the Cat Club show continued Andy eventually kicked, spat on and declared from the mic “I don’t know what you think of her but I think she stinks of shit...” in reference to the singer who then wisely left the stage and allowed Nasty and Andy to handle all remaining vocals, leaving everyone in attendance wishing it had always been like that since the beginning of time. If these are not the events that in reality occurred I deeply apologize and it must have been a deviation of my own making. |
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_______________________________________________________________________________________ 1988 My own band, Snatches of Pink, is driving from San Diego (after opening for Lene Lovich) to San Francisco to open for the Ramones at the Fillmore. My bandmates forego the comfort of a hotel to drive all night so I can see Iggy Pop with Andy McCoy in tow, also at the Fillmore, one night in advance. On arrival I am met at the door by a young lady offering me an apple from a huge bowl of fruit. Behind her “Babylon” by the Dolls is stacking the theatre’s PA. This is all very, very cool. With Andy McCoy on guitar and Alvin Gibbs on bass it was a brilliant evening. After the show I approached a photographer working the gig and eventually got poster sized prints of Andy and Iggy from the Fillmore stage. It should also be noted the following day I endured one of the worst hangovers of my life and later took a dive on the same stage, mid-set, in our Ramone’s opening slot. |
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Early 1991 Snatches of Pink is in Hollywood showcasing at Club Lingerie. In an act of utter kindness and make-a-wish like gesture our lawyer at the time who’s firm also happened to represent Andy brought me to bear witness at a Shooting Gallery rehearsal. Amazing memories of sitting on the floor against the wall in a tiny 15 x 15 rehearsal room while Andy McCoy and bandmates like Dave Tregunna, a Lord of the New Church (the Lords remaining one of my favorite bands of all time), blaze through their debut album’s contents. After the practice a very kind Mr. McCoy invites me to join them at a nearby Indian restaurant. |
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Still in complete awe from the whole
experience and figuring I wouldn’t be interested in eating food for at
least two months now I politely declined and began searching for my jaw
which now rested somewhere down at my ankle. [Later that night we ran out
of gas on the interstate en route to the showcase. Just me and our road
manager, Freddy. The rest of the band had driven separately. High
levels of despair. It all worked out cinematically in the end.] Summer 1991  S.O.P.
is back in California recording our Hollywood Records
debut, Bent with Pray. On August 9th Andy McCoy is to come into the Santa
Monica recording studio and play anything whatsoever he possibly wants to
on a track called “Screams”. The whole proposal had me so blown away I
spent the minutes prior to the session vomiting in the women’s bathroom
(cleaner tiles; general surroundings). Andy, arriving with a roadie, was a
gentleman and a prince. What can I say. Luck of the draw. It was perfect.
Truly one of the best days I’ve ever had. We ran over the song on acoustic
guitars alone in the huge tracking room. Getting me to recite the lyrics
he then tried to talk me into changing the song title to “Screens”.
Expelling “Million Miles Away” from the room’s grand piano, “took to much
of this; had too much of that.” (I prayed the broken piano bench leg would
hold. It did.) He told of Hanoi hallucinations. Floating babies and tongue-less men. Recollections from the front line. There wasn’t a soul in
the room that wasn’t wishing there was a hidden tape-line running.
Fantastically he agreed to record an acoustic opening using my own black
Gibson. The one-take, gypsy infused entry is classic McCoy. We left his
bracelets rattling on the final mix. On the song proper it was slabs and
snakes of sci-fi Stooges distortion. One week later I spent my birthday at
One on One Studios in North Hollywood mixing the guitars. Like
transmissions from a blasted dome. Our ears hadn’t caught up yet. |
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-Michael Rank |
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_____________________________________________________________________________________ Snatches of Pink Back to Teen Sleaze Home |
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