The Last Pogo Jumps Again

No, no no — not the 9th Configuration, the 4th Terrabyte.

As post-production ramps up at Pogo H.Q., the hard-drive holding 300+ hours of interviews and archival footage started humming a not so happy tune, and so we instantly despatched a beleaguered p.a. to pick up a massive 4 terrabyte external drive for some back-up.  Safety first, beauty last, financial responsibility a distant third.

No, no no — not men wearing hats…

It might take a village to raise a child, but it takes the whole world to raise the red-haired bastard stepchild known as The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased And Incomplete History Of Toronto, Hamilton and London Ontario Punk Rock And New Wave Music Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978.

The teletype machine in the musty garret of Pogo H.Q. fired off a note to Florence Italy to ask NYC No-Wave filmmaker Amos Poe who exactly handles the leasing of stock shots for his seminal B & W & Nasty film Blank Generation, the film that inspired promoter Gary Topp (later to be one half of infamous Toronto promoters The Garys) to start booking punk and new-wave bands at the New Yorker on Yonge Street (whooo-eeeeee!) in Toronto.

Detail of Rick Trembles’ Toronto map circa 1976.

Meanwhile, Montreal’s Rick Trembles (who’s been doing our maps and is putting together a font for us to use for subtitles and tail credits) informed us that two guys who would, a year later, become part of the first lineup of Montreal’s Men Without Hats, had bombed down from McGill University in Montreal one weekend in 1977, armed with a Super-8 camera, to attend the Outrage concert at Toronto’s spooky Masonic Temple.   David Hill did the sound and John Gurrin did the shooting (and we suspect that both of them did the partying).   We got in touch with David, now in New Yawk, and with a slight discount urged on by Amos Poe, had the Super-8 footage of part of the Viletones set transferred to mini-dv;  just waiting for it to arrive.

Speaking of terrabytes, the day The Scenics opened for Talking Heads at the New Yorker (September 16, 1977), and the day before the Outrage concert T. Rex’s Marc Bolan died in a car crash in England.

Ticket courtesy of Molten Core

Eighth-billed actress Mary Nash is the grandmother of Toronto’s Nash the Slash.

This weekend co-director Kire Paputts takes the bus down to the City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia, to clear up a couple of points with Margarita Passion, hopefully track down her ex and ex-Viletones and Secrets, Freddy Pompeii, and, natch, eat cream cheese and get stupid at sporting events.

Just a couple more questions, m’am.

The B-movie Caged Heat was shown often at Gary Topp’s The Original 99 Cent Roxy Theatre in Toronto in the mid-seventies.  Written and directed by Jonathon Demme, with an original score by John Cale.   Demme would go on to direct (among many films), The Talking Heads‘ concert film Stop Making Sense.

John Cale would play the New Yorker (Gary Topp‘s new venue) theatre in February of 1977, fanning the flames that the Ramones had sparked four months earlier when they kick-started the “punk” scene in Toronto on September 24, 1976 on the very same stage.   Cale was (and still is) a living legend, and did not disappoint.   He ended his blistering set on his hands and knees, gathering up mike and amp chords in his mouth, crawling off the stage, hundreds of pounds of amps and mikes falling and trailing behind him, pure anarchic and hilarious theatrics, feedback humming and screeching, until finally hiding behind the curtain stage right.   The Wizard of Fucking Oz.    And the packed house might have collectively thought:  “Whoa.  We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

The first encore was Cable Hogue, and then This Heart of Mine.   The Ballad of Cable Hogue was a 1970 movie directed by bad-ass genius Sam Peckinpah that was also shown often at The Original 99 Cent Roxy.   Cale would later write Honi Soit (qui mal y pense), which could be translated, more or less, as “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you,”  the cut-line of the movie.  Or more accurately, “Evil be to him who thinks Evil.”

The Talking Heads would play their first gig in Toronto at A Space, artistic home of agit-prop theatrical group The Hummer Sisters and soon-to-be band The Government, fronted by the enigmatic talent Andrew Paterson.  Their second gig was at OCA, home of emerging bands like The Cads, Oh Those Pants, The Dishes, The Doncasters, The Eels (soon to evolve into The Diodes) the seeds of Johnny & The G-Rays and more.   The third gig Talking Heads in Toronto, and the first that including keyboardist Jerry Harrison, was at The New Yorker.  Upstart unknowns The Scenics would get the coveted opening slot, much to the disgust of other bands who felt that they deserved it.   The Scenics made as many fans as enemies that night.

The New Yorker Theatre, before the stage was built, courtesy Toronto Archives.

To be continued…

Raggedy handbill, 1976;  courtesy of Robert Malyon.

Smoking a joint in the back row of his movie theatre The New Yorker, watching the out-of-synch Blank Generation, promoter Gary Topp twigged on the idea of bringing some of the bands from Amos Poe’s movie into town.  It was 1976.  When he tried to track down The Ramones, few people in the business knew who they were.

Photo by David Andoff.

A concrete stage was built in a few 18 hour shifts over the course of a weekend;  artist David Andoff sculpted a King Kong and painted a NYC nightscape above the marquee –  and “punk rock” officially arrived in Toronto on September 24, 1976 with Johnny Lovesin & His Invisible Band opening for New York City’s The Ramones.

Two years later, Gary would be long gone from the New Yorker, having had moved to the beer-soaked Horseshoe Tavern with partner Gary Cormier;  together they were known as The Garys.   On December 1, 1978, The Garys promoted The Last Pogo, the going-away party for their favourite local bands;  they were being kicked out, and the bar would revert to it’s country ‘n’ western roots for a spell.  The Scenics, The Cardboard Brains, The Ugly, The Secrets, Teenage Head, and The Mods were set to play the historic gig.

Steven Leckie at The Last Pogo.  Photo by Edie Stiener.

Reluctant to join in at first, Steven Leckie ended up crashing the party with his latest version of his ground-breaking Viletones.   And all hell broke loose.   It was captured on film, recorded for an album — and then forgotten for years.   This is the specific time period we’re zeroing in on for our sprawling documentary The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased & Incomplete History Of Toronto Punk Rock Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978.

They got booed and heckled at their first Toronto gig, opening for Talking Heads in September 1977.    But first-wavers The Scenics are taking another kick at the can after thirty years as they hit the stage of the El Mocambo Tuesday, October 13 to kick off a five date tour in synch with the release of their new CD, Sunshine World.    Seven measly bucks gets you in the door, and you get a copy of the CD as well, and you know that they’re going to play their hearts out, and of course lots of beer and old friends.

Sunshine World was culled from 300 hours of tapes The Scenics made during their run from 76 – 82, and features studio-recorded tunes from ’77 and ’78.    Friends of The Last Pogo Jumps Again still scratch our heads at the lack of recognition The Scenics got back in the day (sentiments shared by, amongst others, Scenic pals Talking Heads drum/bass combo Tina Weymouth and Chris Franz.  A few years after the Scenics infamously opened for The Talking Heads at The Garys’ New Yorker Theatere, Tina and Chris said to Ken and Andy after hearing about their woes:  “What? I thought you guys would’ve made it by now.”

Ironically, most people point to the opening gig for Talking Heads at the New Yorker as the first and final straw in their relationship with the other scenesters and musicians.

September 16, 1977;  courtesy Molten Core.

Everyone wanted that gig, and promoters The Garys — who would later manage The Scenics — thought it would be a great surprise to have this great band come out of nowhere (y’know, as opposed to ones that might’ve been around for two months, lol) and be the opening act.  A special treat for the loyal fans of this new thing called New Wave and Punk.   But…not so much.  There were rude catcalls from the audience — “Boring!” — and The Scenics lost potential friends and fans as soon as the handbill promoting the show was stapled around town.

The show itself was great, but there was real resentment, and The Scenics became outsiders in a group of outsiders.  It wasn’t like they were pelted with eggs, mind you, but apart from fast friends like The Demics and some others, The Scenics somehow didn’t fit follow the cryptically infused rulebook on emerging new-wave/punk rock bands.  But sticks ‘n’ stones and fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.  The Scenics just wanted to make music.  They didn’t dress the part, go to the right parties, or even do the right drugs.  It was all about creating music. They would rehearse and jam for hours upon hours week after week and play in every bar in Toronto, only to break it up in the early eighties, defeated by geography (Ken Badger lived in the country, and had a family and everything) and partially due to a pronounced lack of recognition, apart from their loyal yet tiny fan base. (Hi Gary!  Hi Blair!)

Courtesy Molten Core

Flash forward a few decades, and songwriting/frontman partner Ken Badger (he of the auto-asphyxiated singing style) sends songwriting/frontman partner Andy Ramesh Meyers a shoebox of tapes.  (The Scenics recorded everything.)  Andy starts to listen to them.  Obsessively.  Ken and Andy  put together an audacious collection of live Velvet Underground covers called How Does it Feel to Be Loved, and it gets critical kudos from colleges and newspapers, and a vote for the Best CD of 2008 for The Village Voices Pazz & Jop Poll from respected critic and ex-Creem Magazine staffer Jeffrey Morgan (author of the just-released official bio of Iggy Pop) who just drools over it, and it charts at colleges in Canada and the U.S.

Getting a taste of the kind of respect ‘n’ recognition that so ably avoided them during their initial run, The Scenics are inspired.   Andy and Ken call up former members Mark Perkell and Mike Young and start to make plans.  First up is the release of the Velvet’s cover CD, then a few gigs in Toronto (including The Last Pogo’s 30th Anniversary Bash.)   Apart from the new tour and the CD, The Scenics are also going to start podcasting Punk Haiku, Andy’s memoirs from the late seventies punk days, and will be putting together a new CD of new material soon.

Ken Badger in 2008;  photo by Edie Stiener

Andy Meyers in 2008;  photo Kevin Lamb

The staff at The Last Pogo Jumps Again had a chance to have a sneak read of the first one, and it’s great;  you’re right there.  One of our favourite stories is of their quest for the perfect drummer.   After going through a couple that didn’t work out, they get a new guy, and start to rehearse.  In the middle of a song, the drummer has an epileptic seizure, Ken later remarking “Gee.  I thought he finally got it.”  Check out their site in our list on the right hand side.

If you miss them in Toronto (don’t!) they’ll be in Ottawa, Montreal, London, and Hamilton in the next week.

For a much more thorough write-up of The Scenics, check out Steve McLean’s excellent blog.  Cut and paste this http://stevemclean.blogspot.com/2009/10/scenics-i-have-to-review-gaslight.html

So, does that song sound familiar?  Yup, the iconic Viletones tune “Possibilities” as performed by Nirvana (i.e. that 90′s band that sounded like any number of bands back in the late seventies.  But I guess we can’t diss Kurt too much if he had such good taste.)   The Diodes’ John Catto found this on his Internet machine, and turned us on to it via Facebook.   

Peter Noble chimed in from England and reminded us that it was co-written by Steven Davey and original Toronto punk Steven Leckie.  Davey, apart from starting The Dishes with Tony Malone, and later The Everglades, was a huge creative force in the late seventies Toronto scene, having penned not only that tune, but a bunch of others as well, including what was arguably the most popular Toronto-ish punk anthem, New York City for London, Ontario’s own Demics.

The Dent’s Michael Dent credits Steven with teaching him how to write a song, and the inimitable Lance Charles just couldn’t gush enough about Mr. Davey when we spoke a few weeks ago.   Steven currently writes about food for Now Magazine amongst other things, and has been on our interview hit-list for three years now, but stuff takes time, what can we say?

The Astor Theatre about 30 years before it became The New Yorker;  courtesy Toronto Archives.

Ticket to Talking Heads and The Scenics courtesy Gail Wetton.

Speaking of Steven Davey, one incident that sticks in our craw was his infamous heckling of The Scenics.  Ah, the poor misunderstood Scenics.  Having been discovered by Gary Topp (and later managed by The Garys) and looking for the perfect opening act for the Toronto debut of Talking Heads as a four-piece, Gary thought he’d do Toronto audiences a favour by surprising them with this awesomely creative and original new band.   But opening for the Heads was a primo gig that every band in Toronto wanted, and many thought they deserved.   One false move, much?   The resentment started to brew as soon as they were announced as the opening band.  Last Pogo Jumps Again co-director Colin Brunton recalls being so nervous for his friends that he became psychosomatically sick to his stomach and couldn’t bear to watch.  He crawled back home to St. Nicholas Street.   To a packed New Yorker house, The Scenics hit the stage and after maybe a song or two, Davey stood up in the crowd, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out “BORING!”   Funnily enough, thirty years later Gary Topp has conceded that in fact, The Dishes might actually have been a better opener, but that was then, this is now.

The Scenics stoically continued on for another five years before finally calling it quits.   To paraphrase Brunton’s liner-notes from their upcoming CD release Sunshine World (more very cool news on that later) “…they were outsiders in a group of outsiders.  The didn’t dress the part, or go to the right parties.  They were weirdos: one of them played barefoot, and the drummer sometimes sported a beard. Their fans were proud but few.”

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