The "Influential Records" Game Addenda, Part 6

Roxy Music. My mentor turned me on to this record as well (I did mention that he had a shitload of records, right?). The first Roxy Music record was a revelation. I wasn’t expecting the sleazy lounge singer delivery of the vocals at all, especially in context with such a heady blend of kickass and experiment. Wild guitar work, wilder synth noise, strange arrangements with piano and sax. And great songs. The photos of the band inside were a revelation, too. Who could have dreamed up a feathered serpent character like Eno, or the insect sunglasses of Phil Manzanera? This record definitely felt like some other kind of craziness was right around the corner, waiting to burst forth. It would definitely have made the top ten list if I hadn’t needed to reserve a couple of slots for later experimental influences (and yes, one of those would be Eno).

Not everything my older friend played resonated for me. He was extremely impressed with high production values on LPs, which unfortunately led to Alan Parsons Project and Supertramp. Nope. And he wasn’t too impressed with Neil Young but countered with Nils Lofgren’s early band Grin, which was good but already seemed a little dated. But he also exposed me to 10CC, Ambrosia, and especially Remember The Future by Nektar (who I got to see open for Foghat in 1976). And I’m pretty sure he had an influence on my getting Wish You Were Here. Of course I knew about Pink Floyd, because you couldn’t escape Dark Side of the Moon in those days. But I had totally missed out on the Syd era at that point. Wish blew my mind. And made me travel backwards through their history, being completely engrossed in Meddle and the live sides of Ummagumma and arriving at last at Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Later, I also found More and Obscured By Clouds. But the slide guitar sound and attack on “One Of These Days”, not to mention the brief but poignant lyrics, stuck with me, not to mention the epic underwater adventure of “Echoes”. And the sense of creepy foreboding and end-of-the-world industry of Wish has stayed with me as well, and has become more relevant over the years. And all the Pink Floyd records took on more significance once I started tripping. But that’s later.

Now it’s time to move forward a year; I had transferred to the University of Texas at Austin to pursue a fine art degree in a somewhat more challenging and inspiring environment. I had to call my father’s bluff (“If you go to Austin, I don’t know if we can support you”), and weathered his pathetic attempts to keep me at Baylor: “Maybe you could change your major”; “Art has traditionally been a woman’s occupation” (still don’t know where he got THAT one); “You know, Austin is the illegal drug hub for the entire Southwest”. I started art classes, but I was also on the lookout for any kind of band opportunity to get into. Soon, I had met a woman in one of my classes who introduced me to her boyfriend at a party. He played drums, and his twin brother played guitar. They had a friend who had a bass guitar and amp that wasn’t getting much use, so that became the instrument that I played in our get togethers. The brothers were very well versed and rehearsed in FM rock, especially Led Zeppelin, but they seemed interested in, if a little unsure of, the records I mentioned (Iggy, Bowie, Roxy, etc) so we kept talking. The one thing I remember them playing for me that I hadn’t heard at that point was Red by King Crimson, and I couldn’t deny that the title song was brutal and awesome, if just a tad too late. We rehearsed that song and some of their favorite Zeppelin tunes until I started coming in with some song ideas of my own to work on. I have no recollection of how that happened, but I know I was getting bored playing Zeppelin covers and figured that if we were going to play anywhere other than their friends’ parties, we would need a band name and some original songs. We continued to play “Red”, so at first we called ourselves Red (the twins were redheads). And we played that song at our first official gig, opening for The Huns at the Texas Union Ballroom, before dropping it soon after. Something else was required.

But let’s back up a little: I had missed The Sex PIstols’ riotous show at Randy’s Rodeo in San Antonio because I was still home in Ft Worth for Christmas break, but I had gone out and bought Never Mind The Bollocks when it came out around Christmas. It struck me as oddly nostalgic. I was expecting a huge mess and something new, but the only new thing I could tell about it was the singer’s atonal howl, while the band chugged ahead with reputable ability and a fairly standard mix. It was great, but it didn’t blow my mind. Another band that didn’t quite live up to the hype for me was The Ramones. I did get to see them, about a month or two later, at Armadillo World Headquarters; The Runaways opened. I was pretty excited about this show. I had bought a full face gas mask at the local Army surplus store, and wore it to the show, because why not! We got there early enough to stake out a spot right in the middle and right up at the stage. I can still remember the looks on the faces of The Runaways as they took the stage, looked at the audience, and spotted the gas mask front and center. They loved it! And for the whole of their set, they seemed to play every song directly at me, teasing and lascivious. Naturally, I kept it on throughout; this was the best ever! The Ramones, of course, couldn’t care less about the mask when they came out, and by that point I was getting a little overheated anyway, so I took it off for their set. And then it seemed like their set was over, barely cracking 20 minutes. I crawled under the stage and out to the side door to avoid the huge crowd between me and the back, main doors.

Hearing The Clash’s first record in Inner Sanctum Record Store, however, made an immediate and long-lasting impression. For one thing, these were songs ABOUT something. The sense of rebellion hanging off their words and music, and even their looks, had meaning to it, not just “I’m a bored teenager”. It had relevance for the moment; I was feeling the revolution! This was the first actual Punk Rock that hit me where I lived. It would not be the last.

I got to see The Clash at the Armadillo in ‘79, with Joe Ely opening. This was the first concert of the era that I remember cracking the $5 ceiling on ticket prices, costing $8. I fought with myself long and hard over that, but decided that seeing The Clash was definitely worth it, and it was!