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Meet Your Rock Heroes! True Encounter Stories

Filed under: 52 Weeks to Rock / Tags: hmxmusoman, be-a-rockstar / 15 comments

As you move up in the rock ranks, you're bound to run into some of your musical heroes. This is where you learn to keep your cool—After all, you're now a peer of sorts, not just a fan. You may wind up catching them off guard and seeing sides of you idols that you wouldn't have imagined when you were sitting at home playing their CD's.

For instance, Joey Ramone used to live in a high-rise apartment in the East Village in NYC. I know that because I got to interview him once, and he wanted to do it at his home. To my mind Joey was (and always will be) the living embodiment of punk rock: Seeing him in front of the band at a sweatbox club show, inscrutable behind shades, the only guy in the place that wasn't moving—Ramones concerts were some of the most fun I've ever had, and Joey seemed to be the man in charge of it all.

So there I was in Joey's apartment, a dark little place with lots of punk-rock trinkets and band souvenirs hanging everywhere. Draped on a chair was a custom Simpsons leather jacket, which he'd just gotten when the Ramones guested on the show (they sang "Happy Birthday" to Mr. Burns, you'll recall).

I'm glad to report that Joey generally turned out to be one of the nicest guys around ,he phoned me two days after our interview, just to make sure I'd gotten good enough answers to all my questions

And his cleaning woman was there to tidy up around the place—at least, that's who I thought she was. Until she picked up the jacket and told Joey that he really shouldn't just leave it laying around like that. "Awww, Mom…" said a sheepish Joey, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. Yes, I was watching my musical hero and punk-rock savior get scolded for being sloppy. By his mother.

I'm glad to report that Joey generally turned out to be one of the nicest guys around (he phoned me two days after our interview, just to make sure I'd gotten good enough answers to all my questions—Trust me, rock stars absolutely never do that). When you meet your musical heroes, you can be surprised at how normal they are. Not always, of course: Sometimes they stay right in character. Our own Kurt Davis (now the Konks' frontman) was in Los Angeles during the 90's when his then-current band, Bullet LaVolta, was signed to a major label. He knew he was really close to the big leagues when he checked into the Sunset Marquis—one of the favorite rock'n'roll hotels—and saw a familiar figure at the swimming pool: KISS front man Paul Stanley was reclining with a lady friend, and an employee was on hand, circling around the happy couple so he could mist them with water from an Evian bottle. No, Kurt didn't go say hello--- Who'd disturb a guy who so obviously has it made?

Sometimes the biggest rule is to not get too starry-eyed. Boston rocker Kevin Stevenson, who led a terrific band called the Shods, was also an auxiliary member of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones when the Bosstones got honored with a star outside Tower Records. Kevin was trying to enjoy a night at home with some pizza, when he got a message from his bandmates: Get down here quick. The Bosstones were hanging out at the Cambridge hotspot, the Middle East, with a man who'd come into town to help honor them: The Clash's late, great front man Joe Strummer.

Stevenson was as big a Clash fan as anyone in the room, but didn't want to come across like too much of a fan boy type. "He was surrounded by stupid little punk rockers asking him questions about the Clash, and I could tell he was getting a little annoyed," he recalls. "So I said, 'Hey, Joe—You want to get outta here'?" He did, and the two adjourned to Green Street, a nearby bistro that was known for its great jukebox. And when you're hanging out with Joe Strummer, a great jukebox is a must. "We stood there at the jukebox picking songs, and we were loving the same ones—all the old R&B stuff like 'Stagger Lee' by Lloyd Price." Then Stevenson played his card; he said something that would either win him Strummer's eternal friendship or get him punched out. "I turned to him and said Sandinista!."—naming the love-or-hate Clash album that covered three very experimental vinyl LP's. "He looked at me and said 'Yeah, what about it?' And I said, 'Should have been an EP."

There was a tense, quiet moment while Strummer thought that over. "Then he looked at me and said, 'YEAH! It should have been!' And we were friends from that point on. I mean, I could tell that we were already on the same page and that he wouldn't take offense. But he was so much happier from that point on. I took him downstairs to the VFW Hall, because I knew that would be his kind of place. We talked music for hours and he was buying me drinks all night." And all because he'd dissed one of Strummer's albums—not a strategy we would have recommended.

He was surrounded by stupid little punk rockers asking him questions about the Clash, and I could tell he was getting a little annoyed," he recalls. "So I said, 'Hey, Joe—You want to get outta here'?" He did, and the two adjourned to Green Street, a nearby bistro that was known for its great jukebox.

Another happy story comes from Corin Ashley, a Boston songwriter whose biggest love is classic, Beatles-inspired pop. His band, the Pills, toured England a few years back; and one of their tour stops was Swindon—a town beloved by pop fans since it's the home of one of Ashley's favorite bands, XTC. But it turned out that the Pills also had a small and enthused following in Swindon, led by a very pretty blonde woman that Ashley couldn't help but notice from the stage; she was singing along with all the songs. She introduced herself afterwards and said some nice things, but one thing really made him take notice: "You like XTC? That's my dad's band". Sure enough, she was Holly Partridge, daughter of XTC mastermind Andy Partridge. Corin had pressed a Pills CD on Andy Partridge when XTC came to Boston, and Holly had stolen and fallen in love with it.

Better still, she called her dad after the show so that the Pills could say hello. "I'm afraid we got him out of bed, so I was expecting a quick hello, but we had him on the phone for almost 40 minutes. We talked about performing and songwriting, and he offered us some encouragement for our show in Liverpool the following week; talking about when XTC used to play Eric's in Liverpool. He left us with two requests: Send some more music because Holly keeps raving about it. And, keep your band off my daughter."

I also have a story about meeting your greatest hero's offspring: Five years ago I was returning home from the South by Southwest music conference in Austin, TX. Quite a few music figures were in the airport that day and the planes were over-booked. So as it turned out, two people who had confirmed reservations on our plane got bumped to standby: Myself and Sean Lennon. I had shown up earlier though, so I was higher in the pecking order. There was only one seat available, my name got called and…well, I waved and got onboard. Sorry Sean, I was in a hurry. Is it still OK if we do that Beatles game?

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LucidStrike...

I met Thomas Barnett from Strike Anywhere. He was chillin' like the rest of us, walkin' around and chattin' before the show. Nice, long conversation. Awesome dude. We're both vegan anarchists, which makes us kin. :D

Thursday, October 15, 2009

the3ndchosen1...

One of my friends is Eddie Froms Pearl Jam's Nephew

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Zephiel...

My dad said he met Huey Lewis once. He says the autograph and the picture he got are probably still in the attic of the house he grew up in.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Bassman23...

Guess he lives in Sibera

Saturday, April 25, 2009

cybermario96...

What a big a jacket he is wearing lol.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Chorkie...

About 4 years ago I was in Hawaii during the summer. We were at this outdoor mall, shopping and what not, when my brother comes down from the second story and says, "Dave Grohl is upstairs!" We went upstairs and, sure enough, Dave Grohl was walking out of a store. We shook hands and talked for a few minutes. Turns out he was on his honeymoon. He was really nice.

Monday, March 2, 2009

moneyp...

And Ghod yes, Sandanista should have been an EP. I chopped it down to a 45-minute disc and haven't played the original since. It doesn't surprise me that Strummer agrees with that.

Friday, February 27, 2009

moneyp...

Back when I was in a band in college, Henry Rollins came and listened to us play and gave what was undoubtedly great advice (too late, though... we broke up shortly after). I played guitar behind Marcia Ball, Lou Ann Barton and the great Etta James for a concert in Berkeley, one of the greatest moments of my life to this point (Barton, then about age 40, could only be described as sex on a stick; such swagger, such attitude -- I was smitten.)

Friday, February 27, 2009

cmenear...

One of my Unreal Tournament clan mates was Scott Ford, bassist for Camp Freddy (supergroup featuring Navarro among others) and the Twilight Singers. No bigger Afghan Whigs / Greg Dulli fan will ever be found. When the Singers played Omaha, Scott made sure I got backstage...I had never met Scott in real life, just on the battlefields of UT. He introduced me to Dulli following a very intimate show. They were kicking off their tour in Omaha. We hung out with Dulli for about 30 - 45 minutes, just drinking in the ba*****t of this dive music hall. Work took me to Dublin (Ireland) about 3 months later and I found out Scott and the band were playing there. He arranged for passes for me and a few of my coworkers...unf- ortunately,- my boss decided that we had to pull an all-nighter that Friday so the center would be ready to open the following Monday. A Friday night in Dublin with Dulli would have been epic, but I'll take my 30 minutes slumming in Omaha!

Friday, February 27, 2009

bmn...

continued
sorry if multipost/conte- nt- rules are broken.

So Ken and I are trying to talk my friend down and the cops are getting jumpy. We're trying to talk them into letting us take him somewhere quiet and safe but they won't let us, saying they have to call an ambulance and have him checked by paramedics. Senior cop asks me if I was "on that s*** too". I incredulously say "does it look like I am?" hoping that the difference between my cognition and my friend's would make it seem obvious that I'm not, but in retrospect it's an obvious dodge. He just huffs, disgusted. At some point my friend thinks he needs to tell the police something, jumps up and approaches one, and they all take him down and handcuff him. He's hauled off to the local hospital. I profusely thank Ken, wave at Paul and Phil and yell "uh, yeah, great show!" and leave for the hospital.

Friend is fine now; he's got a PhD in Psychology, ironically. He doesn't remember anything past orbital starting to play.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

bmn...

continued

So, at some point a quite pretty female COMPLETE STRANGER comes up to my friend, whispers something in his ear. He looks at me and smiles. They walk off together! I'm left completely dumbfounded, peaking, barely able to think; all I know is that my friend has walked off with a hot lady, there was no place in the world I would rather have been then exactly where I was, and I had no idea what to do. So I danced. The show ends, and it was fantastic. I'd had some complaints about Middle of Nowhere, but the songs ROCKED live. Anyway, we start looking for my friend. And looking. And asking venue staff. And freaking out. We're walking around the venue outside when we see a bunch of cops gathered around some people behind the building. $@%!. So I approach and see that my friend is on the ground babbling incoherently while Ken (of The Crystal Method) is holding him, telling him everything is going to be ok, trying to talk him down. Paul and Phil Hartnoll are watching.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Sayburr...

Very nice stories. Thanks for writting that up.

I have met famous people here and there over my lifetime... it was Willie Nelson whom I was most humbled to shake hands with. What a down to earth person. Or maybe he was just stoned at the time.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Branr...

My brush with fame: O'Hare Airport (Chicago) 1983. I'm sitting reading and waiting for my flight when I look up and see this guy that HAD to be a big fan of ZZ Top. He had the beard, glasses and hat. Thought that was pretty good, and looked away...and about 10 feet from him, on a pay phone, was ANOTHER guy dressed the same way. *bing!* Sure enough, Frank Beard was there to complete the set. I panic and start looking through my carryon for a pen and scrap of paper, and humbly walk up to Mr. Gibbons and ask for an autograph. Within two minutes (I had to wait for Mr. Hill to get off of the telephone) I had all three signatures together. I had it framed and hung it on my wall for years (until the divorce, don't know what happened to it after that).

Where's my ZZ Top DLC?????

Wednesday, February 25, 2009