7-24-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #157 (The Washington Squares - On the Beach Boys Tour: Fun Fun Fun)

I don’t recall what we were paid, but Goodkind always was able to get us on the road, pay for travel expenses, and then pay the band at the end -- so it was better than being on a whaling ship of olden days, shipping out for a year then coming home with nothing to show. Oh, no! We traveled, made music, and made (some, mostly rent) money. Other than touring income, I worked more side/survival jobs.

Being on the Beach Boys (BB) tour, we rented a van or a large car and drove from gig to gig. We only had our instruments and our luggage, so it was OK. Billy Ficca came with us on the tour as our drummer, so it was a really tight, cohesive band. We were 3 ½ years into doing the band, so our sets were really tight, too. I think we had thirty minute sets when doing the BB opener. . . any more than that, the fans of the headliner would get antsy or annoyed, so we knew it was better to quite while ahead.

I mean, what would the Ramones do? (WWRD?)  Less is more!

For a big act like the BB’s, being on tour required nothing less than military precision and an organization that worked like clockwork. They had TWO different road crews with identical equipment traveling in two separate buses, the A crew and the B crew. They had two semi trucks traveling, too. I was pretty impressed with the whole setup. The logistics alone were staggering to comprehend.

(below: photos of the tour buses and the relaxing roadies)

7-21-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #154 (The Washington Squares - Poseurs!)

Thought I’d give the conflict a respite and include these photos of us.

1.    Our first album cover, blown up, at Tower Records in LA;

1.    The three of us in front of said album cover, posing as we were on the cover;

2.    Tom and Bruce with Mick Fleetwood -- posing (yes, he is very tall).

Whenever we were in a situation where other celebrities could be photographed with us, of course we were game. . . that was fun. We met a lot of cool people, sure -- and worked with a bunch of ‘em as well.

It was really cool that we were so enthusiastic about it and everybody looked good. But, after the first year of being “Squares,” I wanted to eschew the shades and wear the signature Beatnik chick eye makeup: heavy eyeliner & mascara. I thought that was a really cool look and I wanted to be seen that way. Yes, I have big brown eyes and I’m told they’re pretty -- so what’s the problem, guys?

“You’ll stand out if you don’t wear the shades -- and Ray Bans and berets are part of the deal.”

“Yeah, but so’s the beatnik chick Egyptian eyes -- that’s a very cool Beat look, too, and I can do it ‘cause I’m a girl.”

At this point I started to realize that it wasn’t in THEIR best interest to make me any kind of sex symbol -- or “be” the girl. Not that I was comfortable being a sexy chick but I didn’t mind looking hot in a classy way. Mesmerizing eyes were cool -- but not if two guys in your band fight you tooth and nail. . . 

7-18-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #151 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 7)

We had two very strong folkie influences (all right, three actually): The Weavers, Peter, Paul & Mary and the Kingston Trio. We loved their music, their politics, and their very broad, mainstream appeal. So, when PP&M played a local gig on Long Island in 1983, all of us piled into a train or a car (don’t remember which) and caught their show.

We came all dressed in our new wave/beatnik regalia, ready to meet and greet the popular, beloved entertainers after the show. Knowing that they’re seasoned pros and would never pass up a meet and greet backstage after a concert, we positioned ourselves with a small but eager crowd at the stage door.

Sure enough, they came out to say hello after the show. We burst right into an early PP&M song, “The Cruel War,” which the guys sang harmonies to as I crooned my best Mary Travers. But -- once Mary heard us singing her song -- she joined in and came over, stroking my cheek and singing lovingly along with us Squares. Nice!  

(photo by Jill Goodkind)

Little did any of us know that within 5 years we’d be sharing a label: Gold Mountain/Gold Castle Records. . . (whatever the heck it was!) 

7-17-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #150 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 6)

Because we had both the old and the new angles working for us in the Squares (New Wavers gone folky/the old guard passing on the torch to us), we met and played with a lot of really cool people who were a generation or two older. At an Irving Plaza gig (one of the hippest places to play in NYC, still), we played with Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul & Mary, and special guest Allen Ginsberg (not to mention our own Jeff Berman on bongos!). 

We also played events at historic places in the Village like the Judson Church by Washington Square Park, a hotbed of old leftie activism. So we’d have the stance down just so, we studied old photos of classic folk groups and how they stood (kind of like classic bluegrass groups). Jill Goodkind, again, did a great job of shooting and archiving us as we happened. . . thanks, Jillski!

(sometimes, looking back at these images of us from the '80's is like watching MadMen. . . looking with loving reverence to the past with a great eye for vintage style detail)

7-16-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #149 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 5)

I’ll say it again: Tom Goodkind was never more brilliant at promotion than he was with the Squares. I knew if I hitched my star to that wagon -- with a brilliant promoter and the combined musical talents of Tom, Bruce, and me -- that it’d have to go much farther than I could’ve mustered on my own. I work well in a team and like to work collaboratively, so it went well, for a while. . .

How Tom got Stephen Holden to review us for the New York Times in 1984 was really quite a coup. If he reads this, I’d love to hear his version of how that came about. I know that Jill was also great at publicity and that she worked in the field, so what the hey, it could’ve been her doing. . . but this was really good for our press kit, which got fatter by the month, seemingly:

Oh -- and here’s a snap of us with Peter Stampfel, the brilliant leader of the (Un)Holy Modal Rounders, taken at a Folk City gig when we invited him up to sing (does Tom remember the name of the song he was belting out enthusiastically with us here?).

7-15-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #148 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 4)

The Washington Squares had a penchant for the press, but that was partly because Tom Goodkind knew how to schmooze writers and editors on the phone and he’d just go run with it when he had a live one on the hook, so to speak. The copy in this Village Voice Folk City ad just cracks me up, as he mentions what we’re wearing along with what we’re playing in the descriptions of who we are and what bands we were from in the New Wave scene. He really knew how to promote. . . as that was his job at the Peppermint Lounge, too: as a music promoter.

So, we have the ad from the gig -- and then a review of the gig:

But if that good Variety review was a feather in our cap, getting an early New York Times review (thank you Stephen Holden) was like an entire Apache headdress. . .

7-04-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #140 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 2)

As mentioned before, we had a band logo early on -- designed by Tom’s friend, artist/graphic designer Marlene Weisman.  Of course, she knew how to look stylishly modern beatnik, too.  Voila:

But our first promo photo was taken by Bruce Paskow’s friend, photographer Michael Halsband.  We went for a classic pose and look:

When we were rehearsing -- usually in Tom & Jill’s apartment on 13^th street -- we were a little more relaxed with our dress code.  After all, living in NYC apartments meant no laundry facilities and you could only hand wash a striped French sailor’s shirt so much before it looked passé. . . and truly BEAT.

  

7-03-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #139 (The Washington Squares - Early Visuals 1)

We were really masters of the visual, in the Squares -- which was good, because we do live in a visual age.  And a new thing called MTV was just starting out roundabout then. . . music wasn’t complete without a video to accompany it.

Of course, having a “look” has always been important when you’re in a band -- and we were very aware of how that was as much a music entity’s identity as its sound.  That’s why Tom, Bruce and I went to great lengths to identify and mold our appearance to be truly identifiable.  I guess you could say we were into branding.  And as we loved the Beats and the kitsch quality of “beatnik,” we went with a truly Greenwich Village signature look. . .

 

Tom’s club connections got us into hip places like the Limelight, Danceteria, and the Peppermint Lounge, of course.  The “Yab Yum” session mentioned was kind of silly and we didn’t know what we were doing but we improvised. . . we read poetry loudly, did abstract expressionist paint throwing at a white sheet hung on a wall (black paint only!), and played folk songs.  I guess if we had any kinetic talent we might have danced. . .

   

7-02-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #138 (Starting Out Again. . .with New Beat-ginnings in The Washington Squares - Open Mic at the Speakeasy)

The Speakeasy scene was not hard to penetrate if you had something good.  Monday night open mics were the main hoot.  Rod MacDonald hosted around our time in the scene (spring of 1983).  We showed up in our striped shirts, Ray Bans, berets  and annoyingly confident attitudes the first time out.  I had a little old acoustic F-30 Guild guitar that sounded great, and Bruce had a Gibson Hummingbird (or was it Tom’s guitar that he lent to Bruce?).   Anyway, Tom played his electric P-bass because this was before Tom got his big acoustic bass, a Guild “guitarrone” style guitar.  It looked good on him because he’s a tall guy and proportionally, it worked. 

The Speakeasy’s owner, Joseph, was a nice older man who Goodkind always schmoozed, making ol’ Joseph smile so that he practically gave Goodkind carte blanche, let Tom do whatever he wanted.   See, Tom was always ingratiating his way into favors, and we never stood in his way.  Tom wanted bookings for us, with lines around the corner.  We didn’t object to that, either!

So, at the Speakeasy on a typical night you might hear Roger Manning doing his Folkgrass duo, or Enamel the Camel singing truly bizarre songs (his theme song went, “Enamel the Camel.  . . “ etc. etc. of course).  Folk humorist Christine Lavin would sing a new satirical song that would get everybody snickering, and Rod MacDonald would sing his own songs, sometimes with Tom Intondi.

Eric Frandsen was a funny guy and a great guitar player, with a handlebar mustache that made him look kinda Gilded Age.  He wasn’t very nice at times so I steered clear; didn’t want to be in his way and get hurt.

Lucy Kaplansky and Peggy Atwood also played. . . they were lovely, fragile, and endearing. 

But the cherry on the sundae, so to speak, was young woman with a guitar who wrote songs and seemed very serious.  She was a waiflike, smart girl who wrote her own songs and never seemed to get overly excited.  Tom and Bruce in the Squares always went out of their ways to be nice and try to make her laugh and “court” her, in a way.  I wasn’t sure of their sincerity, but I was sure she had talent.  I didn’t know if she liked us, though, so that kind of got in my way of enjoying Suzanne Vega. . .   

7-01-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #137 (Starting Out Again. . .with New Beat-ginnings in The Washington Squares - Fast Folk at the Speakeasy)

The pain of Nervus Rex coming to an end was behind me; the new band, “the Squares,” healed that wound and made a lot of sense, really.  Around that time, painfully commercial popsters Huey Lewis and the News did a song called “Hip to Be Square” and a group called Timbuk 3 did a song, “The Future’s So Bright, I’ve Gotta Wear Shades.” 

(look!  We even had a logo, thanks to Marlene Weisman, a talented artist/graphic designer that Tom Goodkind hired to do design for the Peppermint Lounge, too)

As counterculture and so-called hip as we were, those popular songs were eerily apropos.  You’d think they were custom-writ for the yuppies, but most young people felt it and resonated with it.  I guess we were riding a zeitgeist, some sorta gemutlichkeit.  We felt at home anywhere there was a reason to protest, a microphone, and a spotlight.  We had something(s) to say and had to get it right out there. . . in song, and jokes.

So our initial plan of attack had us attending open mics in the village, mostly at Folk City and the Speakeasy.  There was this organization called Fast Folk that I think Jack Hardy spearheaded.  He was a preppy looking guy who wasn’t too friendly to me, but I guess I wasn’t the friendliest character either.  At turns, I was shy, wary, moody, and a little paranoid.  Of course, the cheery face I usually showed to the world belied all the weirdness going on in my head.

Tom Goodkind and Bruce Paskow (but more Tom) were good at hanging out with the other guys, and they got to know Rod MacDonald, Jack Hardy, David Massengill (he was a friend -- he and his sweetheart, Lisie), Eric Frandsen, even Dave Van Ronk.  Christine Lavin also was a part of that scene, and Frank Christian (Jr.).  Cliff Eberhardt, Tom Intondi, Carolyn Mas, Shawn Colvin. . . . lotsa good singer-songwriters.

Like I said, I wasn’t the most social person -- kind of reserved, I hung back and had a hard time feeling a part of that Fast Folk group, even at times my own group felt strange and I always questioned my sense of belonging.  But not to belabor that point here. . . I’ve always felt that way, even in my own family.  Moving on. . .

So, ever notice how different people have different effects on you?  There are those who somehow just make you feel better being in their orbit; there are others who seem to bring out the negative, the whiner in you.  I had just figured that one out right about this time. . . and if I didn’t resonate with a person, if they didn’t make me feel good or comfortable or positive. . . I kinda lost interest and wandered off, in my own self-created haze.

That haze was pure creativity (with a little pity party and self reflection sprinkled in).  I had so many songs in me, so much music to share.  The harmonies flowed on.  I felt happiest when writing and singing. . . some things never change.

6-28-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #136 (Starting Out Again. . .in the Big Apple with a new survival job at One U: New Beat-ginnings: Finally Naming the Washington Squares)

(sung to the tune of “Old Paint”) “I buy some old paint/Feel like an old man/Go back to my apartment to paint it up again/I work hard all my life just to make ends meet/One slip of the payment, and I’m out in the street (CHORUS) Drive around little tourists, drive around real slow/See the last of the village, it’s ready to go.”

So went one of our early traddie rewrites.  We’d make songs topical about what we were experiencing -- similar to the folk process that Woody Guthrie or any other self-respecting folk singer would do. It really sounded cool because it was rocked up with a hard beat, a throbbing R&B bassline, and jangly, loud guitar riffs.  Add the three part harmonies and ten thousand watts of folk and WHOOO!  Off we went.  I always smiled extra wide when we did “Old Paint”. . . .

Anyway.  The three of us “New Wave Refugees” sat together with our bar napkins to write on and our non-alcoholic bevs (the guys liked coca colas and I drank seltzer with a splash of cranberry) to brainstorm until the name -- so obvious it was genius -- came up: The Washington Squares.  Whose idea was it?  I say it was a harmonic convergence of all our brainpans, an amalgamation if you will of all of our ideas.  The fastball wit and back and forth punning (my forte IS puns) with those guys was like alternately witnessing -- and playing -- a pinball game.

We became the Washington Squares (not the Pinball Wizards) in an inspired act of communal wordplay.  Together we named the beast -- but of course, Tom or Bruce would say it was THEIR idea.  I’d expect that, wouldn’t you?  If you knew them, you’d know how territorial things got. . . but neither could agree on who was top dog, and I never challenged either.  They were like two different breeds of dog: a Labradoodle and a Jack Russell terrier.  But of course, I’m a furry medium hair mutt of a pussycat -- but no Josie, oh no.

In that band, I figured as long as I was the queen, so be it *-)  I was the only girl, and if I’d been more forceful or sexy, or if I worked with blander personalities I’d have been potentially more of a star, but it was work enough being a Washington Square -- part of three great harmony singers and rebels from the village. I just wanted equal attention -- and a chance to shine at being a songwriting musician.

As before mentioned, we had an image (neo beatnik), a mission (We just basically hated Ronald Reagan and everything he stood for). We had our Ray-Bans, berets, our turtlenecks. . .  

AND we had just acquired a great name. . . 

6-27-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #135 (Starting Out Again. . .in the Big Apple with a new survival job at One U: New Beat-ginnings: Almost Naming the Washington Squares)

What’s in a name?  Just about everything.  In an age when there were band names like The Pretenders, Heaven 17, A Flock of Seagulls, Squeeze, REM, the Violent Femmes, Husker Du, and (my favorite name) Drivin’ and Cryin’, we knew we had to get something good.  This name had to be somehow redolent of the Beat Generation plus the Beatnik (a media took the cool but dangerously subversive Beats, mixing it up with sputnik to create: Beatnik!) with a slight homage to Maynard G. Krebs.

Finding a name was weighing heavily on us, and being a triad of hyper, type A personalities (yes, even the bass player wasn’t laid back!), we all wanted to come up with it.  But together we brainstormed: one late winter night in particular.  We’d been walking around the village, then we wound up at One U for a drink & whatever.  It was easy to stay skinny ‘cause we were all in our 20’s and didn’t have much cash.  I mean, it wasn’t in the budget to be eating out except for occasional slices of pizza and the heavenly Mamoun’s falafel (it was $1.50 at the time, I believe.  Started eating at Mamoun’s when the falafel was 75 cents. . . but that was in the seventies, when I’d skip school and take the train to the village, from Queens).

So, at One U that chilly night in March, Tom, Bruce and I sat at a table in the front of the place (at One U, you sat in the back if you were dining, most often) scrawling names on bar napkins.  The guys were joking around about the Hollywood Squares. . . with Charlie Weaver to block (get it -- the Weavers reference?).  Then we realized we were just steps away from Washington Square park, and that great monument. . . symbolizing bohemia and freedom and a life away from those “squares” uptown.

This was during the yuppie era, when the haves and the have nots were separated by what they did, what they wore, where they worked, and what they believed in.  Sure, we were from middle and upper-middle class homes, in the suburbs, but our hearts were into idealism, a true democracy, perhaps tinged with socialism. . . and living the artist’s life. 

If I had the ability to be somebody else (with a REAL job and respect in the world), believe me, I would have. .  . I really didn’t choose writing and music, they chose me -- and at the time, music also chose Tom and Bruce.  That was how it went back then, at least. . .