The Last Pogo Jumps Again

Angel Joey from distasteful ad for company who don’t deserve a credit.

Google Danny Fields if you don’t know the name.

After leaving Harvard Law School, he fell in with the Warhol crowd in NYC in the mid-sixties and shared an apartment with Edie Sedgwick.  He co-edited 16 Magazine, took lots of acid and was openly gay when it wasn’t fashionable.  He wrote the liner notes to the first live Velvet Underground album and managed Lou Reed.  He discovered The Doors and hated Jim Morrison, was a fan of The Grateful Dead but not their singing, and he discovered The Stooges and The MC5 and The Modern Lovers.  In the mid-seventies he found The Ramones.

In September ’76 he managed The Ramones when The Garys brought them to the New Yorker Theatre in Toronto, arguably kick-starting the Toronto punk scene proper, putting the Punk in the punctuation mark that that gig represented.    Today, he generously parted an hour out of a busy day as a guest of NXNE to chat with us about what it was all about.   As you can imagine, The Last Pogo Jumps Again crew (that day comprised of Brunton, Fiander, and Mighty Joe Krumins) were looking forward to a solid interview.   Big thanks to Deb Rix of Flip Publicity for helping to arrange this;  thanks to the cocktail lounge staff who let us set up our lights, cameras, and action in their snazzy downstairs joint.

By the time we hooked up with Danny, he’d just been interviewed by something called AUX TV, and being a few minutes over-schedule, we only had about 45 minutes before Danny had to be interviewed by Warren Kinsella in front of an audience.    Danny jokingly asked where the hair and make-up department was, and wondered if we had time to smoke a joint outside before getting down to it.  (A friend of The Last Pogo Jumps Again had apparently met up with someone who knew a “pusher”, and supplied us with a couple of marijuana cigarettes (or “reefers”) and we handed them over to Danny, along with a complimentary Bic lighter emblazoned with a red Maple Leaf.   The light rain outside put the kibosh on any experimenting with recreational drugs, and so we trundled back downstairs, and were set to go.)

Danny watches Joey and Dee Dee with Mr. Bowie and two cute girls;  photographer unknown.

Director Brunton glanced over his scribbled notes, and DOP Richard Fiander fiddled with the camera and lights, heeding Danny’s advise to be shot from a higher angle.

“Everyone looks better if they’re shot from a higher angle,” he said. “I edited 16 Magazine, I should know.”   Joe set up his p.o.s. camera on a tight close-up, and we finally got rolling, the clock now ticking down to about a half-hour or so.

Danny was amiable and candid and in good spirits and looked really good for someone on the other side of 65, but after the first question (“Just start by telling us your name.”), it was clear that not only was Danny a living legend (see paragraph one), but he was also a low-talker. (Insert joke about puffy shirts here for any Seinfeld fans.)

“Can you tell us how the Ramones show at the New Yorker in ’76 came about?” asked Brunton, and Danny went into a five minute monologue on…what we’ll never know until we actually digitize the interview and listen to it (thankfully, we had a lav mike hooked up, so the interview will be audible.)

Brunton, not knowing what Danny said, and too polite and/or meek to ask him to raise his voice a bit, inched his chair closer and continued with his prepared questions.  Problem number two:  Danny had a hard time remembering much of the New Yorker gig or our beloved and legendary promoters The Garys.   He seemed to think the first Ramones gig in Toronto was in “…the basement of an office building…” which sounded like the Crash ‘n’ Burn, but that didn’t open until the summer of ’77.   It was an odd sort of moment for director Brunton;  those shows were so memorable, and seemed so…important.  When the Ramones second album came out, the New Yorker staff were thrilled to see Dee Dee sporting a New Yorker t-shirt;  working with Joey Ramone on the feature film Roadkill in the late eighties, Joey had loads of good memories of that weekend in Toronto in 1976.  But for Danny, not so much.

Joey Ramone and Colin Brunton on the set of Roadkill, 1989;  photo Tim Sebert.

We mined some gold, but as we said, we won’t really know until we can play it all back.   Danny Fields had lots of interesting stuff to say on the differences between audiences in NYC, Toronto, and London (“No difference, they were all the same.”);  the work ethic of The Ramones (“Johnny’s plan was to write a ton of songs, play for five years, and not have to work again.  Unfortunately, they never sold many records, and so they had to turn into The Grateful Dead.   They had to tour for twenty-five years.”)   He told us that Johnny Ramone thought the reason not many blacks were fans was because their music had nothing to do with the blues.  While the debate on what the roots of rock ‘n’ roll are is kinda age-old we were a little surprised to hear Danny proclaim “No one really likes Blues and Jazz.  If they say they do, they’re lying.”  He thought it was amusing that a “Jew fashion designer” — Malcolm McLaren — had so much to do with Punk.  “I’m a Jew too, so I can say that.”

It ended on a cheerful note, Joe getting Danny to autograph his copy of Legs McNeil’s “Please Kill Me” (“Dedicated to Danny Fields, forever the coolest guy in the room“.)   Fumbling for his glasses, one of the gift joints fell on the floor, and minutes later, trying to find a pen, the other reefer fell out of a top pocket.  It reminded Danny of when he got busted in Toronto by a lesbian Customs Officer (“They were so nice to me!“) and he had to retain Keith Richards‘ Toronto lawyer, the end result being not allowed to enter Canada for either four or seven years.

We had to split, and couldn’t stick around for the Kinsella interview but by all accounts a good time was had by all.  Once our gear is back from the States, we’ll get everything transferred and pop in some of Danny’s comments into the work-in-progress.

Until then, hey ho.

Coming soon: An account of Kire Paputt’s interview with Bob Segarini, as well as his road trip on Father’s Day with papa Chris Haight to Phillie to grill Freddy Pompeii.

Lance Charles channels the spirit of Groucho Marx.

We dialed up the Wayback machine to 1973, and in front of the decaying Roxy Theatre, at Greenwood and Danforth, just 246 giant steps from the Greenwood subway station in Toronto,  The Last Pogo Jumps Again directors Brunton and Paputts, along with new Pogo crew member Joe Krumins spent some time with David “Lance Charles” Glincman.

For those of you who remember The Original 99 Cent Roxy, you couldn’t forget Lance.   When Gary Topp ran the Roxy back in the early/mid seventies, Lance was one of the Roxy irregulars, another eccentric who hung out there and took in the music and movies.  The Roxy was one of the main seeds of the punk scene in Toronto, where people were turned on nightly to movies and music they’d never seen or heard before.  Along with a rep for being at the forefront of what we used to call the “underground”, (remember that?!) the Roxy was infamous for being the place in Toronto where it was cool to smoke dope and take psychedelics.   Add up those elements, and its no wonder Raving Mojos‘ frontman Blair Richard Martin called the Roxy “The place where I learned to be cool.”

Colin Brunton, Barack Obamas, and David Glincman in the Obama Cafe.

Like many of the artists and characters we’ve interviewed for this project over the past few years, Lance could not say enough about the cultural impact that Gary Topp has had on Toronto, citing the introduction to Toronto audiences of films like El Topo and Holy Mountain and Zachariah (which he has somehow found a DVD version of) and bands like The Police and The Ramones and on and on.  Clearly, Toronto wouldn’t be what it is now without the cultural guidance of Mr. Topp.

Back in those early seventies, whether it be an all-night movie marathon or a weekend night, 500+ stoned cinephiles would wait in a line-up that would snake around the corner, and they would often be entertained by Lance, with a fake nose and glasses, doing a manic imitation of Groucho Marx.  His audience, the line-up, would either react by crying with laughter — or screaming in anger.  And that’s pretty cool.   Lance would also introduce movies to the stoned audience:   bottles would fly, tears of laughter would drip to the sticky floor, and Lance would pop in and out from behind the glorious drapery that covered the screen.  There was nothing quite like being looped on organic mescaline and witnessing Lance in all his glory.

Lance kept up the friendship (although there was a brief ugly period when Roxy co-operator Jeff Silverman “banned” him from the theatre.  One night during the screening of a flick, the sound was interrupted by Jeff’s voice booming over the p.a. system:  “Lance Charles.  If Lance Charles is the audience, please leave the theatre now.  Lance Charles, please leave the theatre now.”   According to Lance, that momentary battle was won due to an intervention by Gary, and he stayed to enjoy the films.)  He hung out at Gary Topp’s next venue, The New Yorker and then the Horsehoe and after that The Edge.   These days Lance calls himself a journalist, and enjoys his apartment on the waterfront and going to the movies.  On the back of his business card it says:  “I use words and I don’t know what they mean.”

Invited by Gary Topp to be a guest emcee at The Last Pogo, Lance didn’t make it the first night (The Last Pogo), but did manage to make an appearance the second night (The Last Bound-up), and introduced Drastic Measures and his favourite band from the time The Everglades.   One of Lance’s proudest moments was when Stephen Davies and others from The Everglades came to watch Lance Charles Rocks perform at the old Cabana Room.

Today we spent a couple of hours with Lance, our lengthy interview broken up by a breakfast break at the Obama Cafe, and it appears as though Lance hasn’t changed a bit, albeit a bit…uh…stockier.  He told naughty stories, drifted off into wild tangents, and belted out an original tune  (“Hookers are a Loser’s Best Friend”) to the shock and/or amusement of passersby on the Danforth, and then sang a couple of more tunes in the restaurant during the breakfast break (and with the regular cook away for the day, worst breakfast ever!) He recounted seeing Breathless and Nash the Slash perform at the Roxy, counted Greg Godowitz and Bob Segarini as fans, and spoke of what it meant to be Lance Charles.

“I didn’t need drugs.  I was Lance Charles.  People would smoke lots of pot hoping to become like me, but there was only one Lance Charles.  Everyone wanted the Lance Charles vibe,” he told us.

One vivid memory director Colin Brunton had of Lance was being invited, along with Silverman and Topp, to see Lance Charles Rocks perform their first gig.  Specializing in performing for children, his debut gig was in front of a class of second-graders in a ritzy private school up near the ritzy Bridle Path.  Brunton recalls the band performing Bryan Ferry‘s The In Crowd, Lance getting a few of the lyrics mixed up  (“Talking trash, making trash…”)

And for those of us who were big fans, at the tail-end of the interview, he donned his trademark fake nose and glasses and treated us to his imitation of Groucho.

Today’s interview was one of the most entertaining yet;  Lance has still got that supreme Lanceness, and for ten-minute stretches at a time, Brunton and Paputts were crying with laughter.   And let’s be clear:  if you were in on the joke, you were always laughing with Lance, not at him.   Toronto is a much richer place because of the likes of him.

New crew member Joe Krumins summed it up well:  “Wow.  I’ve sure never filmed anyone like that before.”

Coming next week: Roadtrip!   Kire Paputts and his father Chris Haight drive to Phillie to interview Toronto punk icon Freddy Pompeii on Father’s Day. Hey-o!

David Quinton of The Mods, June 6 ’08;  photo by Jean Trivett

Hey, David, what’s up with that cool t-shirt?  David says, via his MySpace page:  “This T-shirt was made by me and my kids – the names of all my favourite drummers are printed all over the front! Ready? Here they are…see how many of their bands you can name (no cheating):

Aynsley Dunbar, Jerry Shirley, Keith Moon, Richard Starkey, Bev Bevan, Richard Hughes, Jim Fox, Kenny Jones, Gary McCracken, Rat Scabies, Clive Bunker, John Weathers, Jim Bonfanti, Mike Gibbins, Ginger Baker, Bun E Carlos, Neal Smith, Paul Thompson, Corky Laing, Mike Tucker, Paul Cook, Billa Ficca, John French, Prairie Prince, Ian Paice, Don Powell and Dale Griffin.”

Quite the list.  And who is conspicuous in their absense?  David Quinton, yo.

Greg Trinier of The Mods;  photo by Jean Trivett

Greg Dick of The Ugly, June 6 ’08; photo by Jean Trivett

Another one of those great “we’re doing this ’cause it’s fun” gigs with The Mods and The Ugly at Sneaky Dee’s in Toronto last Saturday to a packed house of a couple of hundred.   And what the audience and fans of those two seminal Toronto bands know is that even back in the day they did it all for fun.  For sure everyone hoped for the proverbial fame and fortune, but it was — and still is — essentially all about the Art and Lifestyle and Teenage Kicks.

Yuppers.  Three years ago today we started shooting our feature documentary The Last Pogo Jumps Again.  We’ve amassed a hundred plus hours of interviews; secured yards of rare footage of the “never before seen” variety; and have jammed our external drives with tons ‘o’ jpgs.   We’ve captured a dozen or so sets of old-school bands from the back in the day, and watched as our hard-drive collapsed in a fit and die on the floor.  The Last Pogo Jumps Again survived, and will be released sometime when we’re about four or so.

Kire wearing the colours at the Berlin Wall

Co-director Kire Paputts is hard at it, piecing together all the stuff and trying to make sense (or not) of it.  Co-director Aldo Erdic is finding bits of time between shooting his own stuff to compile the many hours of footage he has, the goldmine being the pile of stuff he’s shot of Greg Dicks‘ interviews on CIUT-FM’s Equalizing Distort series:  Viletones, Ugly, Mods, Zero4, Teenage Head, and a screwy let’s-bail-before it gets any worse debacle with The Scenics.

Co-director Brunton is focusing on getting the last interviews, and flogging The Last Pogo dvd (only three cartons left people!  Hurry up and order already!)  We’re also trying to get our hands on some pretty awesome footage holed up in the archives of the CBC and MuchMusic;  stuff we’re sure you’ve seen on your Internet Machine — but that would be great to see, y’know, full screen and only second-generation.  At a hundred bucks a second, it’s a little intimidating, but we’re doing our best dripping honey in The Man‘s ear, hoping to catch a break.

Make sure you hit The Ugly, The Mods, The Superstitions and DJ OPP tonight, and keep on keepin’ on.

Homemade pin courtesy of Deirdre Wear

A G-Man came to the door of Pogo H.Q. today and hand-delivered a package from the hinterlands (east coast) that contained a bunch of cool jpgs of photos ‘n’ stuff, so a big thanks to Deirdre Wear.  If anyone out there reading this is in the mainland Maritimes, and you’ve got a nice video camera, etc., give us a buzz — Deirdre has shared some great stories with us via the Internet Machine, and it would be cool to get her on tape.

The Mods, back in the day;  photo Dierdre Wear.

There might be a few tickets left for the show this week at Sneaky Dee’s in Toronto:  The Ugly, The Mods and The Superstitions, with DJ O.P.P.   The fun starts at nine.   Founding Punk Godfathers Steve Koch, Tony Torture, Sam Ferrara and Greg Dick (in lieu of the late, great Mike NIghtmare) are The Ugly, and all of the original members of The Mods — Greg Trinier, David Quinton, Scott Marks, and Mark Dixon — will be there.  Word on the street is that first band up The Superstitions will be taking names and kickin’ ass.   And if that ain’t enough, DJ O.P.P. will be spinning gold on turntables.   Plus beer, old friends, etc.

Dierdre Wear, back in the day, courtesty Dierdre Wear.

This weekend’s gig with The Ugly, The Mods and The Superstitions coincides with the third birthday/whatever of our work-in-progress The Last Pogo Jumps Again.  It was three years ago we got the idea to start hunting down all the bands and fans from the early punk days in Toronto, and our first day of shooting was June 6, 2006 (for those keeping satanic score, that’d be, weirdly, 6/6/06.)  We’re still going strong-ish.  There’s still a bit of shooting to do — what would a film about Toronto punk be without so-and-so and whats-her-name — and we continue to collect jpgs of photos, while flaunting the dvd of the original movie that ultimately spawned this one, The Last Pogo.   Big thanks to everyone out there who’s been sending in stuff and lending a hand.