Never Lose That Beat
An Interview with Joe Bonomo
For 7 years Joe Bonomo worked on a biography of his favorite band, the Fleshtones. He followed them around the country living like they live, sleeping in low-rent hotels and drinking cheap beer. This experience seems a bit masochistic; and for what? A book about a band most people have never heard of? But imagine being the Fleshtones and living like this for the past 32 years.
If you are unfamiliar with the Fleshtones do yourself a favor and check out one of their albums, you won’t be disappointed. (Although you should postpone listening until after reading this interview—you won’t be able to concentrate on both at the same time.)
TDS: The Fleshtones might be described as famously un-famous. Could you give us a brief history of the band?
BONOMO: Yeah. The Fleshtones formed in 1976 in Queens, New York, specifically in the College Point neighborhood where Keith Streng and Marek Pakulski, who were childhood friends, rented a house. When they moved in they discovered that the previous tenant had left behind a bass and a guitar down in the basement. Keith and Marek had never played guitars before but they picked the gear up, plugged in to cheap amps, and started fooling around.
They eventually recruited a local guy, Lenny Calderon, on drums and Keith’s high school buddy Peter Zaremba, who was living in Manhattan and going to art school, as their lead singer, harmonica and organ player, and Manic Visionary. They changed names once or twice, played a whole bunch of locally-infamous booze-fueled dance parties down in the basement, and eventually debuted at CBGB in May of 1976—the only band to debut in that era that has never had an inactive year!
They played out in NYC for several years at CB’s, Max’s Kansas City, Club 57, Irving Plaza, and other venues, released their first single in 1979 on Red Star Records, and signed with I.R.S. Records in 1980. They replaced Calderon with Bill Milhizer, added sax, harmonica, and organ player Gordon Spaeth (another friend from Queens) and released a handful of records: Up-Front (1980), Roman Gods (1982), Hexbreaker (1983), and Speed Connection I and II (1985).
In this era the band was packaged with a lot of big-name bands, toured the world, and Zaremba hosted The Cutting Edge on MTV, so the Fleshtones’ profile was pretty high. The problem was they never sold a lot of albums, and that would eventually doom them at I.R.S., where R.E.M. and The Go-Go's and others were doing so well.
They were dropped from I.R.S. in ’85 and commenced an era of hustling their work to a series of indie labels, but they never stopped writing songs and touring with an unbelievable live show. Marek quit the band in 1986 and Spaeth in 1988, and after some temporary and for-hire bass players, Ken Fox joined in 1990 to solidify the lineup that’s been steady ever since. In 1992 they signed with Ichiban Records where they stayed until that label’s demise in 1998, releasing Powerstance (1992), Beautiful Light (1994), Laboratory Of Sound (1995), and More Than Skin Deep (1998).
After a couple of albums on small indie labels they signed with YepRoc, where they are still and where they’ve released Do You Swing (2003), Beachhead (2005), and just this year Take A Good Look.
That’s the very brief version, believe me. Thirty years on and they show no sign of letting up.
TDS: The Fleshtones have described their music as “Super Rock.” What is meant by that term?
BONOMO: “Super Rock” is a term that the band coined half-seriously in the mid-80s to explain their sound and attitude to people who had trouble categorizing the band or who dismissed them as mindlessly retro or nostalgic. Super Rock rolls together all of their musical and cultural influences into “one greasy ball,” as the guys put it, without having to tag the resulting sound and image as Garage Rock or Disco or 60’s Revival or any other label.
Super Rock is the culmination of heritage, traditions, and sounds that transcend category into something timeless. Drummer Bill Milhizer says it best: “Super Rock is taking the best, most exciting elements of rock & roll, and exaggerating and amplifying them beyond proportion, with no apology whatsoever.”
TDS: When did you first hear the band and what was that experience like?
BONOMO: I first saw the Fleshtones in 1983 in Washington D.C. at the old 9:30 Club. I think my buddy and I went to see the other band on the bill; I don’t remember who that band was now. I’d heard a handful of Fleshtones tunes on our great local radio station, WHFS, and my older brother had seen them open for Gang of Four and loved them.
The 9:30 Club was sold-out. In retrospect I caught the band at one of their peaks energy-wise—they were supporting Hexbreaker—and I was absolutely blown away by the show. All I could see for the first few songs was Zaremba’s bangs whipping around insanely just over everyone’s heads. Within a few moments I was caught up in their whirlwind of great rock & roll, fun, humor, sweat, unreal and complete abandon, and nonstop energy.
The tightness and combustibility was almost surreal, and it was a blast. It helped that it was one of the first shows that I saw in a small club. I’d already seen the Who and the Rolling Stones, and I’m glad that one of my first up-close shows was the Fleshtones, because their sole, obsessive goal is to break down the wall between band and audience.
TDS: The Fleshtones have been playing continuously for 30 years yet their highest billboard album ranking was #174. How have they managed the ups and downs of such a long career with little to no quote-unquote critical success?
BONOMO: Well, I think for them there came a point—in retrospect it came probably in the late 80s—when they realized that, unless the planets all lined up, their legitimate shot at mainstream success was behind them for good. They kinda recognized that this is what they do and that they’re gonna do it better than anyone; great odds and disappointments and commercial oblivion be damned.
Not that it was always easy, as I dramatize in Sweat. They knew that they’d never get the official deification by rock critics, and that they’d never go against their native style in order to court those critics. Ninety-nine percent of the bands and songs they loved eluded “critical success” anyway.
More broadly, the Fleshtones have had to redefine what success means, and by extension they ask us, listeners, fans and non-fans alike, to do the same. That’s what was most interesting and valuable to me as a biographer—what defined the narrative arc for me.
For the band, success doesn’t mean millions of records sold and world tours and appearances on Saturday Night Live—it means being able to make records, balanced with a sane domestic life, and to hit pockets of the world for shows that will make converts out of doubters. They can still do that after three decades, that’s success in and of itself.
TDS: The Fleshtones have been surrounded by successful acts. They shared the same label as R.E.M, been produced by Steve Albini, and appeared with the likes of Iggy Pop and James Brown. Why do you think they never enjoyed the success of some of their colleagues and friends?
BONOMO: Lots of reasons, some intangible, some not. I still can’t figure out why Marshall Crenshaw or Hoodoo Gurus didn’t sell millions of records in the 1980s; and every decade has those kinds of head-scratchers. Zaremba says that the Fleshtones have “stared in the face of success and laughed,” and in some respects, that’s it. Their songs are catchy but rough-sounding, hooky but never poppy.
And for the band, changing their sound—or more importantly, their vision—for commercial acceptance was never an option. Whereas R.E.M. or the Replacements or Nirvana or the White Stripes have Garage Rock in their background and influences and sound, they progress beyond that and open up to include other kinds of influences.
The Fleshtones, for better or worse, have remained passionately— some would say fetishistically or adolescently—committed to a lo-fi, purist sound and ethos.
TDS: What lessons about success and perseverance can we learn from these guys?
BONOMO: Tons. Sweat is about how to live a life successfully. Whatever your job or your calling is, you can find your joys and your heartaches mirrored in the Fleshtones’ story. They keep on in the face of being ignored and dismissed as often as they are celebrated and accepted. That sounds a lot like life to me.
TDS: At just over 400 hundred pages, and 7 years in the making, your book is a very detailed chronicling of the band. In some regards, your book — like the Fleshtones career — was a labor of love. What kept you going?
BONOMO:Blind belief. And Amy, my girl. She was a constant supporter of the book, a defender, really, in the darker days when I figured that nothing was gonna come of the project except maybe a Xeroxed manuscript copy that I’d circulate to the band and to some friends.
Her moral support and enthusiasm was just great, indispensable. I had to take a page from the Fleshtones book, actually, and simply believe—against great odds, numerous agents and editors, my own doubts—that this was not merely a story worth telling but a story that anyone would find compelling whether they were rock & roll fans or not. Those days were tough, all of the hustling and cold-calling and rejections and the having to again sit in front of the computer and rewrite and push on and believe.
But every writer knows that process. Every person knows that, actually, in one way or another, regardless of what his passion is.
TDS: Describe your process for writing the book?
BONOMO: I lived in New York for a month at a time for four consecutive summers, from 2000 to 2004. I stayed at the Greenpoint YMCA—super cheap with a great, low-rent vibe, a 10-minute walk to the guys’ homes. I hung out, researched, interviewed the band members, ex-members, associates, ex-associates, folks in and around the record industry and the NY rock and punk scene. I’d soak up the East Village history and then go back to Illinois and write. I did the bulk of the writing in my summers.
TDS: You traveled with the band as part of your research. Compare your expectations of life on the road with the reality of it.
BONOMO: I drove in the van with them to Buffalo, Detroit, Chicago, Cleveland, and Columbus. I didn’t really have many expectations; I had no context for it, really. I guess I was surprised by a couple of things. One, the fellas’ endurance. Years ago after a sweaty, chaotic show, my ears ringing, I used to marvel that they were gonna go and do that in the next town tomorrow night, and I saw that happen first-hand this time.
Let me tell you, a sound check can be a tiresome, dispiriting thing; end of a long day of driving, tired, hung-over, the dire prospect of a half-filled club that night—and you’ve got to pull yourself together and play a great, generous show. Not always easy to do.
Two, I was surprised at the concessions that the guys made by necessity in order to play rock & roll. They still occasionally have to sleep on promoters’ floors and in really cheap, skuzzy hotels, two-to-a-bed in order to defray costs and spread their gig guarantees among themselves. That’s the life, with some nicer exceptions here and there, that the Fleshtones have warmly embraced as their modus operandi now.
The biggest thing I learned when on the road with the Fleshtones is that when they’re onstage they’re simply the same guys they are in the van or waiting in line at the fast-food place, only with guitars and amps.
TDS: These guys have been around for 30 years and they are still sleeping on floors just to play music. What does this tell us about living our dreams and doing what we love regardless of whether we “make it” or not?
BONOMO: Well, we’ve got to be flexible. So few of us are going to have our lives scripted the way we want, and so we have two options when that script takes an unpleasant detour: quit, or believe and make the story your own. The Fleshtones can look back at the last 32 years with a lot of pride because they did things their way and they’ve created and maintained a true piece of American rock & roll history.
TDS: Is there a point at which one should call it quits and get a “regular job” or should we continue to follow our dream regardless of the outcome?
BONOMO: Sometimes getting a so-called regular job is the brave thing to do, of course, but it’s up to the individual, I think—what he’s made of. You’re on your own out in the world, and no one will let you lead the life you want simply because you want it.
Character is forged in the dark as well as in the light, and the Fleshtones have seen a lot of dark days, both personally and career-wise. What’s cool about the Fleshtones is that they, by necessity, have had to get “regular jobs” over the years, and now steadily—because they aren’t R.E.M or the White Stripes—but they’ve managed to balance those ordinary days with keeping the Fleshtones going.
TDS: Just for fun: using only lyrics from a Fleshtones song, describe your book.
BONOMO: Cool idea. Let’s see: “Never lose that beat” (“American Beat”) … “My heart says for my feet to follow” (“The Dreg”) … “I’m just spending all of my spare time finding out how good it can get” (“Right Side Of A Good Thing”) … “If you can’t fit in don’t take Elavil; if you’ve got problems make them work for you” (“Let It Rip”) … “I gave my life away for a few good memories and a pocketful of change” (“Pocketful of Change”) … “Pardon us for living but the graveyard’s full” (“A Motor Needs Gas”) … “We can’t change our luck but we can change your mind” (“Gentleman’s Twist”)… “I wanna know why if I’m so good I didn’t die young; maybe then I’d have my number one” (“I Want The Answers”)…
I wish I could fit in “Shiney Heinie”!
TDS: Do you have any projects in the works we should know about?
BONOMO: Yeah, my book of prose poems called Installations was selected in the National Poetry Series and is coming out with Penguin Books in May. I’m working on a manuscript of autobiographical essays titled “Blur” and a personal/interpretive book about Jerry Lee Lewis’ mid-60s “wilderness years.” I focus on the phenomenal Live At The Star-Club album from 1964 and I ask how Lewis got there, what he had to prove that night, and where he went afterwards. I’m writing as a listener trying to make sense of an extraordinary moment in the midst of an ordinary phase of his career. The Lewis book is coming out with Continuum sometime next year.
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