DICTATORS
SONS OF HERCULES
SUNDAY DRUNKS
@ Club Clearview, Dallas
May 18, 2001

WORDS: Ken Shimamoto
PIC: Jon Seamans

We knocked 'em dead in Dallas
And I didn't pay my dues
I knocked 'em dead in Dallas
They didn't know we were Jews

So intoned Handsome Dick Manitoba to introduce "Next Big Thing" at the start of the Dictators' total destruction of Club Clearview the night before what would have been Joey Ramone's 50th birthday.

(It's also interesting that on the same night, their former stablemates under Sandy Pearlman's management, Blue Oyster Cult, are playing at Starplex or whatever the hell they're calling it this month in some kind of oldies package with, uh, Styx, Kansas, somebody like that. Feh. Dictators guitar god Ross the Boss tells a story about running into "what's left of Blue Oyster Cult" in some hotel, seeing a bunch of guys in BOC jackets and a middle-aged conventioneer type sitting alone in the coffee shop, approaching and realising it's Buck Dharma! "He looked like something Donald Roeser MIGHT HAVE BECOME," says Ross, shaking his head.)

Listen: giants still walk the Earth. I have seen them myself. Five of them. From the Bronx.
I'd been experiencing the blues lately 'cos anytime I heard a new record or saw a show (the recent Mascis/Watt/Asheton Stooge extravaganza notwithstanding), it just reminded me of how much I liked the OLD stuff (MC5/Stooges/Flamin' Groovies/Radio Birdman et. al.). Cookie-cutter punk bands are a poor substitute. Kicks, as Mark Lindsay so sagely pointed out, just keep gettin' harder to find. I was so dispirited I was seriously considering giving up the rockwrite thang (The free records! The free shows! The e-mails from John McPharlin!) for awhile to go make money with my gtr in barbands. To abandon fandom.

But, I'd promised Bro. Craig I'd do an interview with the Dictators when they hit Dallas (a mighty rare occurrence; "once a decade," quoth Andy Shernoff, the Dics' bassplayer/songwriter/resident genius). Enough people whose opinions I respect had declared 'em the best thing on the boards today after seeing their shows over the last coupla years that I figured I owed it to myself to check 'em out.
So on a Friday afternoon, I donned my Nomads 20th Anniversary T-shirt (tak, Nix), shoved my combat-loaded microcassette recorder and notebook deep in my pocket along with an extra pack of Camel Turkish Gold and headed for Club Clearview in Deep Ellum in hopes of catching the Dictators at sound check.

They weren't there, so I followed the sounds of blues music up to the roof of the neighbouring Bone to soak a coupla suds and check out the competition. Rob Donovan & the Shakes, a bare-bones trio, were holding forth. Rob's an adequate singer but a great, soulful player with a nice organic sound, not too rocked up like a lotta blooze players in these parts, and he performed some cool tunes by the likes of Albert Collins, Lowell Fulson, and Otis Rush as well as the usual glut of shuffles and Stevie Ray Vaughan covers (did a lotta country-rock stuff that I might wind up having to play in Texas Toast, so it was interesting to check out his approach to those). Your typical Texas blues scene, good players working for chump change in front of fairly indifferent audiences. I sucked down a coupla Shiners and listened to some kid who'd just been released from jail to a halfway house talking about his scene. Lotsa luck, Brother John. After timely pause, a silver van showed up and I saw the unmistakeable form of Ross "The Boss" FUNicello (looking substantially the same as I remember him from a show I saw the Dics open for Jeff Beck at the Palace Theater in Albany, New York, way back in 1976) disembarking, which was my cue to move.

For this trip, just three dates, the Dictators were traveling light - just guitars, J.P. Patterson's snare and cymbals - and the van with the Sons of Hercules' (second-billed in Houston, Dallas, and Austin) gear hadn't shown up yet, so we had time to kill. I was equally awed by the presence of the Handsome One and struck by his resemblance to early Eli Wallach (I resisted the temptation to greet him with the "You came back...a man like you...a place like this...WHY?" line from "The Magnificent Seven"), so I shot the shit with rhythm guitarist Scott "Top Ten" Kempner about Dallas shows (Clearview was actually the last place the Del-Lords played before breaking up), a Dictators show I caught during their Asylum years, and other topics. (When asked what he's playing onstage now, Scott responded by lifting his T-shirt sleeve to reveal the tatt of a Fender Stratocaster on his left bicep.)

We did the interview in a back room, then I got to hang out and listen to the Dictators' soundcheck. Playing through a 50-watt Marshall, Ross the Boss put his black Les Paul through its paces. In a 15-minute period, I got to hear him essay everything from the Doors' "People Are Strange" to the Clash's "Clash City Rockers" to Hendrix' "Castles Made of Sand" to the Stooges' "Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell." "Oh, yeah," Ross remarked later, "we know all those little ditties." A friendly, personable fella who reckons himself to be the most underrated guitarist in rock'n'roll, Ross hangs in the club with J.P. ("I get too wired up") while the other Dictators adjourn to the hotel post-soundcheck.

Over a beer in the bar across the street, he explains that prior to joining the Dictators, he'd played in bands through high school and college, digesting all the usual influences - from Hendrix to Mike Bloomfield and Elvin Bishop in the Paul Butterfield Blues Band (a big signifier for me gtr-wise) - into "my own thing." He'd been playing in a band called Total Crud at the State University of New York at New Paltz (THE drug center of upstate New York when I was attending the Albany campus of the same institution a coupla years later) and Andy Shernoff, who'd been on the scene at New Paltz and Stony Brook (the previous drug center of the New York State university system, prior to a big bust ca. '70) had approached him, saying, "I'm starting a band. Your band is terrible. Come play with us." The founding Dictators all freely admit that in their earliest days, they were 19-year-old tyros. But they've come a long, LONG way since then. Later, a pal of mine tells me a story about seeing Ross sit in for a set with the Wayne Kramer band in the early eighties and waxing the Motor City legend's tail with both intensity and soulfulness. On the strength of what I hear tonight, I believe.

There's a lot to like about these guys. For one thing, they're the most food-obsessed band I've ever encountered. (Not surprising, considering a couple of 'em hold jobs in the hospitality industry when not actively involved in saving rock'n'roll.) There's an easy, clubby atmosphere about them, as well there might be between a group of guys who've been performing together off and on for over 25 years now (since 1973, Ross points out), and who've known each other for longer than that. Outside projects, other enthusiasms (Handsome Dick's bar, Andy's gig as a sommelier, Ross' involvement in his 10-year-old son's baseball career) don't intrude on the tightness between them and their fierce commitment to the music they make together. The Dictators's career is, among many other things, a testament to friendship.

Top Ten plugs in and starts playing the same Otis Rush tune I'd requested from the blues band across the street before I left! Andy has some problems getting the sound he wants from the Ampeg bass rig, and there are the usual difficulties trying to get the desired stage sound from the monitors. Handsome Dick tells a funny story about a wrestling conference he and Scott attended, then it's down to business as the Dictators rip into "Avenue A" from their forthcoming album. As one who's mightily dug the live shows of Gluecifer and Turbonegro, either in person or on video, I have to say that both of those Norsk aggregations owe it all to the boys from the Bronx. Manitoba dominates the stage like the consummate frontman/wiseguy he is, while Ross the Boss plays the role of monitor-straddling guitar god to the hilt, Top Ten lays down a solid foundation of chords and fills while pulling every cool riddim guitar guy move in the book, Andy is an imposing (six feet and change) presence on bass, and J.P. Patterson isn't as flashy or showy as you'd expect a film and TV actor to be behind the skins, but kicks the traps with skill and propels the music along just fine. Then Handsome Dick takes a place out front, listening to the balance while Andy sings "Loyola." If these guys are this hot now, I can't wait to hear what they sound like in front of a crowd.

The opening Sunday Drunks have a new bassplayer and look to have gained a lot of confidence since I saw them opening for the Onyas in the same venue last year (their second-ever show). Unfortunately, they suffer from the opening band's curse - lousy mix, the lead guitarist consistently buried under the rhythm, which makes me wonder, since he's playing through the amp Ross will be using later - but the crowd is receptive and they play a good set.

The Sons of Hercules are up next. They were energetic but not inspired when I saw them play at Casino El Camino during SXSW 2000, but since then they've replaced a guitar player, and as big Dictators fans (contributed a song to a tribute album recently), they're bound to pull out all the stops to earn their place on the same stage as their idols. Before they hit, I talk to their guitarist Dale about an Epiphone Crestwood he had on consignment at Workhorse Guitars in Austin (now closed, I'm sorry to learn). It turns out their bassplayer Casino is another transplanted Long Islander, from the same town (Patchogue) where I used to work in a record store through high school and later, and I'm trying to remember what he would have looked like as a teenager.. Onstage tonight they really deliver, the energy level high, the blend of Les Paul and Rickenbacker just right, the rhythm section driving.

Then the Dictators. Manitoba wears his trademark monogrammed knit cap and Yankees baseball shirt (which he later removes to reveal an "MC5: A True Testimonial" T-shirt - a nice touch). Opening with "Next Big Thing" and ripping through a set of non-stop classics drawn from "Go Girl Crazy!" ("Two Tub Man," "California Sun"), "Bloodbrothers" ("Faster and Louder," "Baby Let's Twist," "The Minnesota Strip," "Stay With Me," "What It Is"), the Manitoba's Wild Kingdom "And You?" album ("The Party Starts Now," "Haircut and Attitude," "New York New York"), and the new one ("Avenue A," "Who Will Save Rock and Roll," "I Am Right," "Burn Baby Burn"), the B-side "Loyola," and a smoking cover of the Dead Boys' "Sonic Reducer" that didn't make the cut for the new album but still claims the song for the Dics in the same way as their cover of "Search and Destroy" did.

Early on, Handsome Dick has some microphone problems, but the roadie gets them sorted out and he's back on form. I've got a great spot, up by the merch counter watching Alexis the "bubbly" (Handsome Dick's term) merch girl (drafted by Shernoff when she walked into the club early in the evening, she did such an outstanding job that she was invited to perform the same duty in Austin the following night) hustling like it's going out of style, so when the full house (biggest and most demonstrative crowd I've ever seen at Clearview) stands up (and they DO stand up, and wave arms, and stage dive, all of that), I still have a good view over the sea of heads (unfortunately, no camera - sorry, Craig).

Later Andy tells me there were some problems with the energy lagging in the middle of the set, and that Dick wasn't as funny as he usually is (thinking about his departed mate Joey's birthday, perhaps - when the Dics play "Blitzkrieg Bop" and the Handsome One looks up to Heaven and exclaims, "Dallas loves you, Joey," there ain't a dry eye in the house). Conversely, I think it's the greatest show I've seen in forever. The difference is that I'm comparing it to every other band I've seen, while he's comparing it to every other night onstage with the Dictators.

What I love more than anything about the Dictators' performance is the joy and exhilaration it carries, the same vibe I get from a lot of the tracks on Scott Morgan's "Medium Rare" compilation (my fave record of the year, so far). It's refreshing to hear high-energy music this aggressive and over-the-top with some smarts and a sensahumour. As Pete Townshend, a sourpuss if there ever was one, once pointed out, "rock'n'roll is NOT about rebellion; it's about TRIUMPH." The Dics understand this. They KNOW how good they are, and they're proud of their considerable achievement without being a bunch of arrogant pricks about it - refreshing.

Listen - these guys are relentless. In the mid-70s, they brought simplicity, energy, humour and fun back to rock'n'roll at a time when Rock had started to take itself way too seriously, and since then, they've never wavered from those principles. They're the last of the iconic bands of that era still slogging around the dumps, and they're better now than they ever were. As humble as their beginnings might have been, by the time they cut "Bloodbrothers" in '78, they'd developed into a stone professional rock'n'roll band, and Andy Shernoff's songcraft and lyrics have always been among the smartest in the music. These guys were never real "punks" - they aspired to and achieved too much as musicians, without losing their initial spirit. Today, with "an all-star at every position" (baseball metaphor courtesy Geoff Ginsberg), a deep catalog of phenomenal songs (is it my imagination, or is "I Am Right" the hardest-hitting slab of vinyl since the Stooges' "I've Got a Right?"), and the best stage show in the business, these guys are poised to take over the world. All they need is to get the record out and hit the boards in a BIG way. (And, uh, swing through Dallas again, hokay? Can't wait another 10 years for this.)

A soul-renewing experience. Thanks again, fellas.

(yeah, that's right)

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