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I
went out to see the Kneecappers in the late seventies. It was
my first trip to the Westside Phantasy nightclub where there
was a big pirate ship on the floor. Whose Lakewood phantasy
was that? Friggin' in the riggin', indeed. There wasn't very
many people there. Lead singer Chris Yarmock kept leaping from
the stage punching and kicking this chubby, short-haired chick;
this was years before anyone ever heard of a mosh-pit. Chris
would then return to his spot in front of the band, and this
fat girl would move to the fore of the "dancefloor"
spitting on him and pelting him with beer bottles, which prompted
Chris to jump down and knock her to the floor with fists and
feet. This contiued for most of the show and was great fun to
witness. I couldn't make out most of what he was singing about,
but I guess it was offensive to this young woman.
Lenny Hoffman |
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Gary
Lupico contacted me soon after we started booking other bands
at Fitzpatricks. Gary was a lot like me; a journalist who was
a musician at heart. Anyway, we booked them often at Fitz and
I always loved playing with them. Gary was a fun-loving guy
whose band played really well together. Anyway, years later
(like last year, to be exact), I'm browsing through the vinyl
collection (yes, I'm still into vinyl) at a little hole in the
wall record store in Portland when, lo and behold (to quote
Dylan), I see they have a Kneecappers record. And the dude wants
like $18 for it! So I started talking to the owner. When he
finds out I'm from Cleveland and had a band that once played
with Hammer Damage in Kent, he flips. (Why Hammer Damage? Who
knows? Why do some people love the Holy Modal Rounders?) Anyway,
he tells me the Kneecappers have always been one of his favorite
bands. So, Gary, if you're out there, call me or e-mail me and
we'll soak this poor schmuck in Portland for a few sawskis for
some of your records. Gary, you're national, man, and West Coast
to boot! Whoda thunk it?
Dan Cook |
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Whew, Fitzpatrick's "Rainbow", what a place for memories. Somehow
the Backdoor Men convinced Fitz to start booking punk shows
there, 78 or 79, I guess. The place might have been the biggest
dump in the flats, back when every joint in the flats was a
dump. There was a trough urinal in the men's room that, in lieu
of actual plumbing, emptied out into a 5 gallon bucket underneath.
On a good night, the piss would spill out from under the door
and into the club. A literal pisshole.
One particular Kneecapper night, things got out of hand. At
the beginning of the set in front of our usual sparse crowd,
Russell's amp got smoked. The logical reaction for Russell was
to smash his bass (a real cool Mosrite that would probably fetch
enough to pay for an entire CD today), and the games began.
Yarmock began ripping the 2x4 railings off the stage and tossing
them around. The half blind violin player who we called "Jean
Luc Wally" crawled under the stage and was throwing his clothes
out. The band let loose with an all out verbal (and in Yarmock's
case, physical) assault on the "crowd". Pieces of bass and the
stage were flying everywhere and some guy with a big red afro
was picking up tables and chairs and hurling them around the
club. A river of piss streamed from under the shithouse door,
washing away bits of wood and broken teeth. At the end of this
very successful evening, Fitz accosted us and was yelling "I
run a nice place here, you'll never play in the flats again!"
We reminded him that the bucket needed changing and left. On
the way out I saw Big Red Afro guy and said "Nice job, man,
next time bring your friends." He said "I would, but I tend
to repulse most people." We had the greatest fans.
As a postscript, a couple of years ago I saw Fitz waiting tables
at an Indian restaraunt in Cle Hts. We've all come a long way.
Gary Lupico |
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| Recalling
the halcyon days in LaPorte where the locals heading to the
small convenient store were welcomed by the experiment eminating
from the basement quarters of the former 18th century fur-trading
structure... it was always the cheapest beer by the case that
powered the practice sessions of Kneecappers.
The
crude stone and cement foundation sped sound back and forth
efficiently and incoherently at best. Wooden planks and steel
support posts kept upstairs from joining in.
There
were few opps to play out in those days. The Cove, Fitzpatrick's
in the Flats, an occasional record store offering on the West
Side and the journey to America's farmland where local hayseed
boys and girls smashed off walls at the local V.F.W. hall.
A
late winter Thursday evening performance by the band was captured
live with audience participation revealing a decidely preference
for Kneecappers over headliner Ubu. While no money was exchanged,
one avid supporter did profit handsomely by scarfing a partially
burnt remnant from the band's "Money to Burn" theatrics.
Recent
searches of the web reveal the far-reaching effect this group
has had on techological change in the world... After the release
of it's "Urban Kill" lp in 1996, top request radio
playlists at MIT and similar schools on the west coast were
peppered with tracks from the album for weeks.
D.C.
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