| 1/29/07 |
 |
The new telefonics CD "Strangest Places" is now available
in our online store.
| 1/4/07 |
|
Because
of archaic PA liquor laws no money can exchange hands at Forward Hall.
What this means for you: buy an advanced ticket from any of the band
members before the show for only $5.
Or go to one of these locations and buy a ticket:
- Karma Tatoo
- Forward Hall
- You Frame It
And if you still don't have a ticket the day of the show we will be
selling tickets out of our white van in front of Forward Hall.
| 3/17/06 |
|
Be very wary
of Winter in Erie. He is not your friend. The worst is February. Ever
the prankster, the snowmelt lullaby that brings visions of hope breathing
new life shamelessly fades into bitter north winds and white dust.
It has the least days but do not be mislead. IT IS THE LONGEST MONTH!
It is during this time when the fibers of reality are strained and
all go a little insane. Nothing thrives with the exception of snowmen
and chow chows. Do not turn your back on bitter old man winter though
he dulls your mind. You are warned so you do not face the same fate
as our poor dear John Johnston of the Telefonics.
One fateful February evening chose double J as it's victim. It is
not the first of blood to spill on frozen ground in Erie, though it
effects us all personally. There were signs, but the short days and
endless nights Of February fool our frozen minds into thinking it
is all a part of Erie Winter. The first sign for double J was his
computer monitor crashing. At this point he should have started a
fire, made hot chocolate, and bought a St. Bernard from the humane
society to bring him shots of brandy on command. He could have then
camped under four blankets on his living room couch with Principal
Rullo and sifted through his 3-5 channels (on any given day) on his
non-cable television. Erie winter would have had to find another poor
soul who didn't deserve what they had coming.
Double J was oblivious to the brilliantly laid out plot (sort of like
he was obliviouswhen he was singing the word fuck like 10 times in
front of little kids and and their parents and then asked what he
did wrong - look at July 4 post 2 yrs ago.) John was on a mission
because he had to record a band the next day and needed a monitor
to do this. He could have called the packing machine of the Telefonics
for both the computer monitor and assistance in transporting it there.
This was his second mistake, well maybe not a mistakebut an early
dismissal for the thought passed through double J's mind - sort of
like the February wind off of Lake Erie ripping through your clothes
to your bare skin. If it was April or perhaps even March would Double
J have made this call? We will never know but he might have, yes perhaps.
He chose a different destination to get a computer monitor, and unknowingly
walked into an Erie winter rape.
Some of the cold hearted amongst us might say JJ had it coming. He
was scantily dressed in his organic faux-converse and button down
plaid shirt, as if begging for the winter molestation. He picked up
the computer monitor and arrogantly headed straight into the icy wind
and then through caution too it. Yes, some say he may as well have
taken off his pants, hung himself on a cross and let old man winter
have it's way with him. He strutted over the frosted covering of the
cold cement, alike to a model on a runway whenthe Erie winter attacked,
causing the soft rubber souls of his proud non-sweat factory sneakers
to fly out from under and him having no choice but to follow. I could
do a complete posting about the dangers of wearing shoes/sneakers
with soft rubber souls in winter but suffice it say, while they are
the best grip on the basketball court or a wood stage, they are the
worst grip on any wet or frozen surface, whether from rain, snow,
sleet, sweat or blood. So yes JJ - even sneakers that are made with
no one breaking a sweat are no match for winter in Erie.
I know what you all are thinking about this - "you just wrote four
paragraphs of bullshit - get to the point if their is a fucking point
and what the fuck does it have to do with music or the Telefonics
for that sake and is this why you never update your website anymore
- Oh,and by the way, "when the fuck are you playing next and is Black
Rose gonna be there".
The point is when JJ's sneakers lost their grip the computer monitor
he carried flew through the air and the winter wind blew it to an
exact angle to land on JJ's thumb. Now the fingers are one of the
most vital parts of a musician's body. I suppose there are more vital
parts where the computer monitor could have landed on JJ, and he is
thanking God for small favors, but nevertheless, there was serious
damage. The monitor caught JJ's thumb against the frozen ground in
such a manner where it smashed bone and nerves leaving mostly skin
to hold the thumb on (if the edge of the monitor was sharper it would
have sliced right through). What does that spell for the rest of the
band - STAGNANCY.
You would think so but the accident which will keep JJ in a cast and
possibly from being able to play guitar for 3-4 months only heightened
his sense of urgency and any rest or peace the mind the Telefonics
thought they would have was strangled in the grip of JJ's good iron
fist. What exactly does this mean? That it is time to record again
- only JJ won't be able to join the band so his soul will is going
to be focused on the rest of us. It is going to be the new puppet
master and the puppets (Telefonics) CD - coming soon to a dive bar
near you. That's the latest and I could tell you about all the shows
we played but I don't remember any, only sweet, sweet remnants of
the Working Poor - their CD keeps them alive in my brain but I can't
see their faces in my mind anymore. Also - when it's late at night
and I'm really tired, possibly smoking and picking a few notes on
my six string the words, "oh where oh where have the Johnson’s Big
Band gone, oh where oh where can they be" float through my head to
the melody of that old traditional folk song.
Adios muchachos -es un buen dia a morir.
| 12/28/05 |
|
Dave
Richards picked the top 5 “RockErie.com” bands of 2005
with telefonics placing #2 - listen to the PodCast on RockErie.com:
rockerie.com/thescene/bands/283
| 08/08/05 |
|
Our
store is up and running - you can now purchase our CDs directly
from this site. Also, we have added a ton of photos taken at the
Hip Flip Colours CD release party... click on the images link above.
| 05/19/05 |
|
Note
to all interested parties, you will be able to buy the new telefonics
record Hip Flip Colours from
our site or from basement
transmissions soon.
Introduction
The Recording
It
has been almost two years in the hole (studio) and 23 songs (14
on the CD) and infinite hours of labor later the Telefonics emerge
a new entity. Transformed by wavelengths, sound bytes and "zamples"
they are merely shells of there former being. Stripped of all self-identity
the Telefonics function as a unit manuevering the stairs and heading
for for the thick oak doors that lead out of the magnificent edifice
that encloses the encave where the Telefonics have wasted years
of their lives. Opening the door they do not seek freedom or liberation
(these words are meaningless to the new Telefonics) but rather seek
to satisfy a deep primal stir far below any form of consciousness.
One Telefonic kneels and kisses the ground, one Telefonic raises
his arms to the sun, one Telefonic turns to face the North East
winds, one Telefonic inhales deeply filling his lungs with fresh
air and the last Telefonic pulls out a lighter and lights up a smoke.
Brainwashed by Roland, the Telefonics have no recollection of the
grinding pain and torture that went into the process called recordingand
slowly regaining self-identity each individual Telefonic gives each
other a look which they all knew implied, "What the fuck just
happened?".
Chapter
Two
Back to
Reality
Slowly
gaining back memory the Telefonics realize there is show tonight
commemorating the Wasted Telefonic years with such headliners as
What Secrets?, the Hope Harveys, Black Rose Diary and the Telefonics
themselves. Each Telefonic also starts to vaguely remember a hazy
dream that they all had while incarcerated - it was the same dream
and it was that the Telefonics had formed a Velvet Underground Cover
Band. In unison (the Telefonics will never fully recover their self-identity)
each of the Telefonics shakes off the icky feeling which comes with
the thought of being in a cover band and one Telefonic screams at
the sky, vowing, "I will not do injustice to my favorite band
(Velvet Underground) by doing covers of them". This comment
brings a huge sigh of relief (in unison) and propels the Telefonics
into action which is to pack up for the show.
Chapter
Three
The Packing
Memory fades, thoughts dissapate and as the task of packing presents
itself there are three Telefonics left standing. John, Fred and
Pete - the movers of the Telefonics (Gina and Zack are the shakers)
begin the laboriously, tediously time-consuming job of packing there
insanely ridicilous amount of equiptment (if John and Pete's amps
were as big as Fred's you would look at their equiptment, shake
your head and say, "That's just what the world needs, another
80's hair band"). As Pete loads the last piece of equiptment
(except for the drums) Zac arrives on cue, shakes a tambourine and
exclaims, "ta da". Insanely jealous of Zac being a shaker,
John decides to let Zac pack his own drums and suggests he uses
Pete's SUV. Pete, also very jealous of Zac being a shaker, saw the
subtle brilliance in double J's plan. Pete knew that Zac would not
only have to pack his own drums but also that his SUV had an array
of foul smells. Pete owns three dogs and earlier today they went
on a special excursion where the dogs could be dogs. Pete's pack
spent the time feasting on fish in streams, running rabbits through
brush, moshing in the mud swamps and chasing beaver whenever the
oppurtunity presented itself. They brought each eclectic odor back
into the SUV stored in there thick fur which started to shed in
clumps as soon as they jumped in the vehicle. Perhaps Zack will
drop his Brahman role as a shaker, and join the Sudra as a mover
in fear of becoming a Dalit, leaving Gina as the only shaker and
the stars re-aligned with the universe.
Chapter Four
The Preparation
Pete
and John pull up to Forward Hall - which although it doesn't have
the intimacy of a Beer Mug, it has more space and a sound system
to die for. It is about 9 pm in the evening, an ungodly early hour
for this part of town. At the edge of Pete's peripheral vision a
tumbleweed rolls down Peach Street as he recalls the brief flicker
of his life in El Paso. The bar, like the streets are empty except
for the small crew working that night. With generousity, one of
the crew at Forward Hall helps us with the unloading. Fred arrives
and the threeTelefonics work hard at balancing the act of how to
put out the decorations and how to not offend Gina (the true Brahmin
of the band) in the display these decorations. Pete, working to
hard at blowing up plastic fish with air - realizes the futility
of this task when he discovers there is a hole in the plastic fish.
He then finds that three of the six plastic fish have holes and
can't be blown up and glances at the made in Taiwan sign as he goes
to throw out the bags they came in. The place was decorated, the
Hope Harveys came up and the party was ready to get started.
Chapter
Five
The Show
What Secrets? started the event off and they left no one in the
dark revealing all fine intricacies that goes into sculpting layers
of noise from layers of instruments. Was this just 20 minutes of
mindless, self-indulged mayhem. No - the noise had meaning, both
thought and feeling evoked this madness. The strength was a strong
pulsating groove held together by the drumming and the dynamics
of the noise, that was almost danceable and definitely moshable.
The theatrics were insight on how the night would ensue as one of
the members slammed his homemade mini-guitar to the ground. He never
picked it back up and after the show it was discovered that he had
broken the guitar's neck. Cops swarmed the place, he was walked
off in handcuffs, caution tape went up and a chalk mark was drawn
around the dead guitar.
The
Hope Harvey's were up next - arriving from South of the Border or
somewhere around Pittsburgh. A great band and great people, The
Hope Harvey's aim to please with some rocking, popping and hopping
music that makes you tingle inside. They added a horn player and
every once in a while someone from the band would join him on the
horns - did you know that everyone in HH can play a horn of some
sort. They then broke into a new number called Double J feeling
about John J and the rest of the Telefonics. The song was super
groovy and I was overwhelmed with a Double H feeling. After this
they did a medley of five Tom Petty tunes and Pete started trembling
as the dream rushed back through his skull - being in a Velvet's
cover band and one of the shows they did was with the Hope Harvey's
except HH was also a cover band but
not just for one band but five different bands! And not only did
they cover five bands but they did a medley of five songs from each
band. Pete did the math 5 x 5 = 25 - that was 25 songs for them
to learn for one show - an impossible, unattemptable feat even for
the Great Hope Harvey's - only in a dream Pete kept thinking but
it seemed so real. The date May 5, 2005 kept popping up in his head
- La Dia Del Muerte - what was it's significance.
Black
Rose Diary were the next boys on the list and if you don't know
about these bad boys by now, then you spent more time in the basement
recording your CD than the Telefonics did. These darlings are Erie's
pride and joy, the epiphany of rock n' roll - the complete package.
When they wake up and get dressed - rock pours out of their very
essence. When they hit the bed at night, the stench of rock n' roll
seeps out of their pores. They've got it all, balls to the wall
and more. Ladies and gents - these cocky boys could hit the big
time - they could put Erie on the map - they could help shape a
new sound into a dismal music industry - THEY ARE THAT GOOD!! I
know what you're thinking - if they're such fuckin' peaches and
cream, then why the fuck are they on a bill with the Telefonics.
I'll tell you why, ladies and gents and listen closely. I've
already let you know that everyone of them has rock n' roll in their
DNA - and with the pro's of this there are also cons. Like every
great true rock n' roller they are lazy, irresponsible, unmotivated
and unprepared. They couldn't even finish a 15 day tour -
how the fuck would they make it 6 months on the road. They also
have the pride of great rock n' rollers - fuck a business manager,
fuck the establishment, fuck Bud Light and the Battle of the Bands,
fuck the MAN, fuck the WORLD etc. I'm sure everyone gets my point
except Black Rose Diary themselves who are now saying, "Fuck
Pete too". I just have one thing to say to you Black Rose boys
- take it from the Telefonics - time flies and you only got one
life - Rockn' Roll don't look as cool when you're as haggard as
a Telefonic (except Gina who's youth and vibrant appeal is the life
force sustaining the Band and Zac who is the little brother we all
hoped for). Black Rose - go all out, no holds barred. Take the leap
of faith - I tell you this cause I believe - and every Telefonic
wishes this on Black Rose because we love you guys.
Sorry
I went a littlle off tangent but I've been waiting to say that Black
Rose and since I was writing about them playing I figured it was
the perfect oppurtunity to slip in my own agenda - but now it's
back to th show. Black Rose walked on to the stage with the same
swagger as the great gunslingers of old, wearing there guitars below
the hip and ready to rumble. They look so self-assured on stage
and they knew in their heart that they owned the place. Every guy
in the audience wanted to be them and every girl there wanted to
have them. The whole crowd made an exodus to the front of the stage
and when Josh slammed out the first chord it was Rumble in the Jungle
time at Forward Hall. The drunken, stoned rock n' roll bliss swirled
wildly through the air sinking into deep into the each and every
brain stem - that primitve or reptilian part of the brain that controls
breathing, blood pressure and heart rates. In Forward Hall the breathing
got heavy, the blood pressure was running high and the heart rates
were pounding fast. This part of the brain also acts on instinct,
and when in danger that "fight or flight" response kicks
in and it ran rampant through the crowd during the Black Rose Diary
set. Billions of years of evolution crumbled and regressed when
Josh smoothly sang two simple words - "That's right".
It was madness and mayhem - running and fighting, dancing and screaming
- a De-evolution Revolution. It only stopped when John slammed
the last cymbal. The primitive part of the brain also contains no
memory so no one could remember what had just passed, but everyone
felt good so they new it was special. Only the greatest of Rock
n' Roll acts can pull this and this night Black Rose pulled it off
as sweet as the best of them. Yes, Black Rose boys, you have the
power. Use it wisely - you owe it to the world. Do not light a lamp
and place it under a basket - let your light so shine before men,
that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.
(editors note--Pete took some bad acid when he was a kid and as
a result his brain switches between King Crimson guitar riffing
and visions of heavenly/hellish figures)
Next up were the Telefonics and they knew, even at their own CD
release party that Black Rose would be a hard act to follow. But
after years of recording and months of not playing, they were all
hungry like the wolf and would not be denied. Gina was just drunk
enough to where that false modesty that inhibits us all (except
for those with the likes of Black Rose Diary who have no modesty
whatsoever) evaporated and her sweet voice slice through the mix.
John was in seventh heaven still from having the Hope Harvey's write
a song about him - he truly had that double J feeling and it flowed
through his playing. Zack was groovy as could be and had his A setup
that gave youthful energy to aging pop n' rollers. Fred was as solid
as rock and no matter how fancy the bass line he always landed right
back in the pocket. Pete was wondering why all he could see was
a sea of sombreros in front of him but when he heard the funky horn
sounds coming out from them guitar lines raced from the reptilian
part of his brain (he often spends time there) through his fingers
on to the fretboard - it was Funk Fest city and no sheriff was gonna
run Petey out of funky town. The Telefonics were monstrous that
night - rivalling and perhaps even exceding the mighty Black Rose
Diary (for the first and probably the last time in their lives).
The crowd was crazy dancing, clapping and joining the band. There
were fire breathers and strippers, hecklers and jesters and the
Telefonics were the driving force. It was there "15 minutes
of fame" X 4- enough to decimate the humblest of egos and the
Telefonics were feeling mighty prideful as the received the high
honor of being baptised with cheap beer by the faithful. Pete had
two thoughts; 1. This is how Black Rose Diary must feel" and
2. Did we just lay down a smokin' set or was the crowd just really,
really drunk. Perhaps it was a little of both he thought as they
broke into their final
encore of Throat Ailment knowing that it all went by way too fast
- it sure does Black Rose boys.
Conclusion
The Aftermath
Climax
after climax the Telefonics climbed only to hit the top and fall
back down into the huge anti-climax of packing all their shit. Forward
Hall looked like a battlefield and it will be a long day for whoever
has to clean up all the shit tomorrow. The after party was at JJ's
but there was work to do. Ex-telefonian, Mildner who left the Telefonics
to be in an all-girls band (he is the bitch in a band of diva's
- and he loves the smell of estrogen in the morning) helped with
the packing as well as few others - this was greatly appreciated
by the Telefonics who usually have to load their own shit because
everyone wants to help Black Rose Diary (crowd mumblings - Josh,
let me help you with that; Jeff, don't strain your back - you have
to kick the Telefonics ass in basketball; Zac - that bass rig is
almost as big as your tattoo - I got it for you; John - please don't
- I really wanna clean that puke off your bass drum. Those lucky
bastards. But tonight the TF's got to bat and with bases loaded
they came through in the clutch and received their just rewards
and the packing was a breeze. The unpacking was just as easy and
the after concert party was on. It was a drunkfest with each trying
to best the others "witty"comments so they can say to
themselves, "Look at how brilliant I am". But it was all
in good fun and after hearing some quasi-intellictual comments about
religion from Josh and reaching psuedo-enlightenment the writer
of this story went to hunt down some pizza in the kitchen. When
he saw that it was devoured by the mob at the party who were only
fuctioning at the reptilian level of their brains, he drove homeand
went to bed. He woke up screaming in a puddle of sweat - he dreamed
he was in a Velvet Underground cover band and they had a show coming
up.
3/31/05
Our
new record is finally done, CD release party at Forward Hall on
5/14/05!
1/20/05--a
late news post by Pete
We ask for a moment of silence in memory of our dearly beloved departed
friends - Professor Small. It was a bittersweet night to be playing
on the same bill at the legendary Professor Small's last show. Sweet
to see Professor Small play one of it's rockinest shows ever and
bitter knowing it was there last show. How do I know this - when
John, Josh (Black Rose) and I carried out Sir Small's vintage rotating
Speaker cabinet (leslie style) and stored it in the depths of some
family member's basement (yes -there are Small's all over the place
- big Small's and little Small's, fat Small's and skinny Small's)
I knew that Mr. Small was indeed taking his final journey out west
to fade from existence even in our memory, till he is but a shadow
and a thought.How fitting that the evidence of their existence shall
only remain on a disc that transfers digital information through
a digitized system into our digitized minds. I think they would
have wanted it this way.
While
they exist in my memory I would like to say a brief eulogy. When
I first met Small he was - well he was small. When I first met Professor
he was - well he was Professor-like. I'm sorry, I'm falling apart,
I can't do this, it's too hard - DOES SOMEBOOTY HAVE A TISSUE!
Fuck
this sentimental shit - what a last show that was put on to all
the fucked up fans at Forward Hall on Friday night (Dec. 3). Professor
Small had Pegasus Unicorn (who we played with at the Beer Mug a
few weeks before) open and they are putting out some totally original
interesting and hip sounds, unlike anything going on in the Erie
Music Scene. The place was just starting to fill up towards the
end of their set and they heightened everyone's anxiety - the feeling
can only be described as "More, more, more (Billy Idol quote)".
The
Telefonics - well I'll speak for myself. I felt extremely privileged
to have been asked by Professor Small to be one of the bands to
play their last show. We were just a blip in the scheme of things
but even the smallest of blips can cause profound impact. In this
case our time on stage created the perfect atmosphere and build-up
of suspense for Professor Small's Grand exit. Their absolute raise
the roof monster robot rock was slammin' and there's three things
that stick out in my head (two and a half more things than I usually
recall after one of our shows).
1)
The constant calls for encore - they played every song they ever
learned and had to resort to covers like "Mary Had a Little
Lamb" on moog - well maybe not but that night they could have
made it sound hip.
2)
The screams of "Fuck Black Rose Diary" when Professor
Small wanted to stop playing encores to make time for BRD. I think
it was mainly Jeff (of BRD) and I that were screaming this.
3)The
third thing was the death of the Robot. If there was anything I
would have done different it would have been to do more than a brief
and efficient massacre of the robot. I mean - wouldn't it have been
cool if Mr. Robot came out dancing to their robot song and then
have been bludgeoned to death by a guitar wielded by a rock n'roll
star - da da da da da da (WHAM!!!) da da da da da (KAPOOEY!!!!).
However - what a way to go out for Professor Small - in their prime
and on top with their weightiest show ever, not like some aging
athelete hanging on to glory days or an aging rocker who needs a
blood transfusion before each show or the Telefonics
for that matter (although we'd still kick BRD's ass in basketball).
It
was BRD to top off the night and they play best to a drunken incoherent
crowd enfrenzied and intoxicated by rock n' roll. They topped off
the night with the best raw rock in town and were the icing on the
cake of Professor Small. They had some technical shit - Zac - please
man - don't pawn off your basses for whiskey and women - you'll
end up playing a handful of duct tape on stage - you're on the Charlie
Parker path. He used to pawn his nice shiny brass saxophones for
smack and kept a real cheap white plastic sax to play if he had
a gig until he got money to buy back his sax from the pawn shop.
He had a gig set up with this real big jazz orchestra and he walked
on stage an hour after they were into the show with his plastic
sax and blew the shit out of it. Don't quote me but I'm pretty sure
this was at Carnegie Hall. My point Mr. Zac is, when BRD brings
back stadium rock shows, do ya wanna walk on stage in shea stadium
in front of 90,000 screaming fans holding globs of duct tape with
a couple strings taped on each end. I don't care how low ya play
it - you can strap that babydeep down to the depths of hell and
it still ain't gonna look cool. But ya still sounded great Zac (at
least when it was playin') just like Charlie Parker did on his toy
plastic sax.
There
you have it - fans and friends - prepare yourself for our new Cd
which you'll be hearing about shortly but tonight we celebrate the
end of a legacy - Professor Small - it's better to burnout and you
guys smoked down to the ashes for your parting blow. You have our
deepest respect and gratitude and are humbled in your presence.
What a fucking death show you gave us.
9/20/04
Yo
yo yo - Rockers and boppers, rapsters and hipsters - here's the
latest. It was a Saturday night and it was a Roadhouse theatre and
the combination brings the life underground to the surface.
The
Telefonics were surrounded by some of their favorite local acts
- Canadian Friday (bastard child of adulterated union between Telefonics
and Black Rose Diary), Torn Curtain, Professor Small and Black Rose
themselves(not a Black Rose rip-off cover band (Which I foresee
many of in the future and may be mydemise with the Telefonics because
that is one gravy train that I'm gonna ride - I have the perfect
rip-off name for it - Black Rosemania. We'll (Black Rosemania) take
over at the peak of their fame after they blow their brains out
because of their shame for losing to the Telefonics in a game of
hoops which will not only solidify their dead asses for a spot in
the Rock and Roll hall of fame but will also solidify Black Rosemania's
contract and concert tour.I'm gonna be Josh and I only have two
things to work on: 1: His vocals because I can't sing. I have figured
this out - I'll pull a Milli Vanilli (who by the way had a member
kill themselves)and lip sync it. 2: His scraggly ass beard - how
the fuck am I gonna pull that off - I am either gonna have to take
female hormones or have chemotherapy to grow my beard like that.
I may be pegged as a as a music burglar but don't tell me that Black
Rose are not prone to thievery themselves aka - Black Sabbath +
Black Flag + Guns and Roses + the Basketball Diaries = Black Rose
Diary but hell - we all sell our souls for rock and roll, don't
we Jeff.
The
back room was breathing the sounds of smoke, the tastes of chit-chat
and the laughter of
booze (and other mind altering agents). All of the sudden the the
smoke in the room parted like the Red Sea, The six gun's aim was
true as a bullet hit right between the eyes of chit-chat and it
died without time to realize it was dying,the chemical laughter
halted from slap in the face by a cold sobering sight. There was
a new sheriff at the Roadhouse. He came in the form of Hank Williams
incarnate and took a several slow plodding steps to the corner stage.
His movement was both archaic and deliberate as he opened
his guitar case. Everyone in the room ducked and weak hearts faltered.
He did not look like the type of man to have a guitar in his case
and we waited for blood to spill. When the guitar was lifted and
strummed and as the collective sigh passed - the smoke, chit-chat
and and laughter returned ten-fold. We were privilagedto hear a
set of great "old school" country and folk tunes - including
a great one of his own which sounded like a song would sound if
Peter Seeger and Bob Dylan wrote one together. It was a protest
song -something about another man's war and graves. The set ended
and it was time for us to set up behind the curtains.
The
muffled sound of Phantasm were coming from in front of the curtains
as we set up our shit behind them so all we had to do was pull it
forward when it was our time to shine. I kept looking to see if
a metal ball with a mini-spear floating around the room and dismissed
the idea when realized that that sort of thing hasn't happened since
the 80's (or were there a few bad sequels). There was a quick switch
of equiptment after they finished their set and it was our(Telefonics)
time to shine.
The
professionalism of the sound crew made me nervous as we did sound
check. I always prefer plug and play but know the benefits of a
good sound man. I turned my amp under 3 and close to 2 as they gave
me dirty looks (that was a lie I made up to create a more reader-friendly
drama - they were actually very nice but serious and serious makes
me nervous). We opened with Silver Plastic, did two new songs, a
few old songs and we were smoking. We then went on to a cover, "Tainted
Love" and although John's BritPopPunk accent was off the feeling
was right on as we rocked into the climatic "Heart Attack".
We started it out and hit a part where one of us caused everything
to crash. I knew where I had to recover but I was frozen in motion
and the moment passed. Ironically, it was the perpetrator - Zach,
who's cool head and quick recovery beat us all back on track and
from that point we did not look back. There are moments where we
are good, sometimes really good and this was one of them. I do not
give ourselves glory lightly.We finished and felt good.
I was
very depressed at one point because I missed two of my favorite
local acts - Torn Curtain and Professor Small because of band duties.
Black Rose made up for this as they were the perfect band to kick
off a perfect party to support the perfect little thetre called
the Roadhouse. I became extremely excited when Mike of the Hope
Harvey's came up with his trombone to play a Hope Harvey's tune
With John J (telefonics) and Josh and Jeff (Black Rose Diary) singing.
With the trombone as the only instrument Mike kicked out the rockinest,
hookiest riff of the night
Bomp
ba da da Bop bop ba da da da da. It's still
in my head like I was there yesterday and the rest of the night
was a blur.
| 8/19/04 |
|
I have shirked my duties for too long and it's time again for the
pen to hit the paper. We have played three shows since I have last
written - all on the same weekend (July 30 and Aug. 1) - and all with
our super fill-in master bassist, Mr Fred. Ladies and gents, we are
not gods, just rock and rollers. Since some time has passed since
we played these shows, my memory of them gets more and more jaded
and soon I will wonder if we ever played them at all.
I will start from the beginning but my recollection of events may
be different from others on the scene. I see and perceive things others
do not, and they see and perceive things I do not. I discard (forget)
these observations more frequently than most, leaving vacant parking
lots full of erased information and retaining only small driveway
full of necessary data (name, rank and serial number). Here is what
I recall.
It was a hot summer night and the Telefonics were about to offer their
throats to the wolf with the red roses (play the Beer Mug). We were
feeling a little lonely because the presence of Manco was not to found
- he had far more important duties that I previously mentioned. When
I met John I discovered that the band we were lined up with - 20goto10
did not actually go to 10 or to Erie for that matter. Diez arrived
safely pero veinte no va. In a scrambling madhouse manner, John was
up to the task when he effortlessly got a fill-in band of daunting
stature - none other than the Brains and Brawn of Erie - our very
own Professor Small. No I tell you, we are not gods, merely rock and
rollers.
When the dust settled we took on the task of loading - I do not know
who helped or how this went, that car has left the parking lot. We
arrived (I think), unloaded (I think), and mingled (I think). The
first band up was Edison Edsel and although I can't recall their whole
set - let me just say that the dollhouse was smokin'. Professor Small
hit the stage next and like every other time I heard them I swore
to myself that I was going to quit my job, burn my guitars and sign
up up to be a robot - I love the sound of moogs in the morning (it
is now past midnight) and they make this major life changing proposal
even more enticing. Then 10 of 20goto joined them with a small theramin
activated by light hitting a sensor, flowing through intricate genious
and eminating a signal that passes through metal wire into a rectangular
box with knobs that makes things loud and in a microsecond explodes
out of cones contained by larger boxes. I was already a robot in my
mind and the sensation lasted until the very last emission of the
entity known as Professor Small.
It was our turn to hit the stage and most of it I have already blacked
out. This is what I do know - there is a certain ebb and flow to the
Telefonics and tonight we were neither flowing nor ebbing. Needless
to say, it was not a total loss and there will be many more nights
where we offer our throats to the wolf with the red roses.
Saturday afternoon we began our trek and we were headed again to none
other than smalltown, USA. I know you are asking why we (telefonics)
of shady nature and tainted character would journey back into this
God forsaken bible belt of morality (small bible belts snake across
the mason-dixon line all over - it's not just a southern endeavor).
We had no choice fans and friends - we had to do it for the children
- you see it was an all ages show and the telefonics would die before
they disappoint. Upon arrival, the place was surrounded by underagers
who are not allowed to vote or drink (many do the latter despite this)
but are free to rock. We pull in the parking lot and salute them.
The show is a blur - blends of acoustic guitars, free form metal,
black t-shirts and Jones soda swirl like a dust storm where it is
impossible to decipher one from the other. We were part of this teenage
riot and we hit the stage, we rocked (Zach was nails) and had our
biggest crowd ever at the Hangout.
There were very few adults about and no smalltown firemen. Lucky for
John J. because you will never guess what "Mr. Brains Behind
Our Operation" did. He was wooing the kids with his "approaching
middle-ager trying to be cool" charm and can you believe
it - Señor Potty Mouth strikes again. Signs are posted stating
that there are no obscenities to be sputtered but shit flew out of
of John's mouth - in a literal sense. I cringed a little, shookmy
head, looked at John's hand with his fingers were twiddling, and heard
a voice of reason (probably Gina) correcting him.
I then scoped for any heros of morality but this underaged audience
had higher ideals and were a forgiving lot - having yet to experience
the equation "time x life = cynicism/disillusion" and this
time John got away scot free. A stain was again unleashed in small
town but on this occasion amongst these wonderful children turning
into grown-ups, no one seemed to mind - it was a breath of fresh air.
I am hoping all I just wrote is a proper recollection and not just
a figment of my imagination brought on to sooth me from the stress
of playing smalltown once again. We then packedand hit the road as
the sun was sinking low in the west.
It was Fred (former Telefonic bassist extrodinaire) and I in the car
and I knew it would be a pleasant trip. Our Manco is irreplacable
and has Telefonics in his soul, but if we could ever have another
member it would be Fred. A solid bass player and good company are
two necessities of life. We got to the bar in the city of Steel without
mishap, unloadedand met the Hope Harvey's, and this time we were on
our best behavior. We went to the restaurant kiddy corner from the
bar and seeing that I was undecided in what to order, Mike of HH suggested
the mystery burger. Intrigued, I immediately asked Mike what the mystery
burger was and he said that it's a mystery. Be careful when you ask
the Hope Harvey's a question because they're answer will bring up
100 more questions. I was broughy a sandwich with an unidentifiable
hunk of meat and topped with lots of stuff that was prepared so sloppily
that the ingredients were a mystery, It wasn't bad but I new it would
sit rough for the upcoming rock and roll workout
What happened next highlighted the night almost as much as the music.
An anonymous Telefonic stopped all fromeating and taking full responsibility
for his scoundrel-like nature at our last Hope Harvey show, apologizing
and amending the situation on the spot. It was moment of pride for
the Telefonics. I knew we were ready to go.
The Telefonics opened the night in a cool little bar with few people
watching. This did not matter because we were on, and when that happens
the crowd evaporates into the music anyway. Next up was this cool
little band calledthe Maybellines and one word describes their music
best - fun. The last band to play was the Hope Harvey's who werehopping
and bopping heavily, heartily and happily the remainder of the night.
Our next stop is a Cleveland Car show at 2 pm on August 21st. Ladies
and gentleman, start your motors.
| 7/25/04 |
|
I was going to write about our rocking show at Sherlock's - a club
that we were unaccustomed too it's ins and outs and that seemed strange
and alien in nature. It is the home of cover bands and metal rock
but I have already said too much.
Family and friends - I have some terrible news. Kevin Manco's (bass
player loved by all) mother had an accident and received a serious
head injury. She had surgery and is in ICU. If you pray - say a prayer.
If you believe in karma - send her good thoughts. If you play music
- play a few notes for her. If you write - put down a few words
for her.If you dance - swing for her. If you paint - draw a sketch
for her. If you feel - take a few moments to think about our friend.
| 7/19/04 |
|
Walking through IKEA jungle of floor coverings highlighted by the
pinwheel snakes of lighting, there's movement with a purpose and an
action. As we break down the equiptment piece by piece we are quick,
thorough and careful. We turn into mindless robots, and have the grim
dismal expressions that comes with manual labor that's been repeated
one too many times. It's John and I again - the main loaders and packers
of the bells and whistles.
Zack is on his way but I wish he was here and it's my fault he's not.
I received several messages to pick him up but never checked them
for several reasons: 1) Most of the time the calls not for me. 2)
If they are for me, most of the time I don't want to talk to them
(especially if it's John calling me one more time to remind when I
have to be there (He says something like be here at 8 O'clock but
it'sreally 8 O'clock, it's not your 8 O'clock, don't be there any
later - well John was not thinking and he has known me long enough
to know that if he wanted me there at 8, he should have said be there
no later than 7:30 pm. I'm thinking about what an idiot he is as I
pull in at 8:30.(Now that I'm thinking about, maybe he really just
wanted me there at there at 8:30 and he really duped me - this is
really fucking with my head and maybe next time I'll show up at least
an hour late to make sure I'm not getting any mixed or misleading
messages. Oh yeah - back to the reasons I don't check my messages.
3) I don't give a shit - horrible but true and today it burned me
(note to self - check messages).
Manco is not here simply because his body is broken. He has scars
across his abodomen that make Scarface look like a Clearasil ad. His
back is slowly disintigrating and like a sickly chemo patient, his
hair is falling out. If he were a dog or a horse he would be shot
but we all love him way too much to pull the plug. Needless to say,
he is of no use when it come to packing or loading, and when we go
on long trips I leave him a spot where he can lay out his portable
mattress and lick his wounds after a hard night of rocking. With attention,
pampering and care Manco will live a long, half-full (I'm an optimist)
life.
Zack walks in just in time to provide relief and he gets the save
in the final inning of packing. However, he decides he wants to make
a sandwich (he says he'll meet us there) while John and I head to
the Beer Mug and unload ouselves. Zack is a very smart boy as he smoothly
avoids both helping us unload and any discomfort tugging at his conscience
for not doing the right thing. I wish I was wired this way. (Maybe
Zack's conscience eventually kicked in because it was just me and
him unloading after we played. The studio door was locked on the inside
and while I used a Jersey technique (two screwdrivers because the
lock was backwards and bent my credit card) to jimmy the door, Zack
unloaded all the equiptment himself - muchas gracias amigo.
I'm going on vacation today, will have no access to my computer and
have hardly any time on my break left to right any more, so I'll just
let you know a little bit about the show and then adios. It was a
typical Beer Mug show - and if you have never been to one you have
not fully lived. We started it out with a rocking set where Gina shined
and we all fucked up a little. The next band was from Florida and
they kicked out a rocking set and sounded like old school pre-punk
- the only criticism being that the singer would sound a lot better
if he didn't give the microphone a blowjob when he sang (keep at least
a half inch or so away).The third band was Erie's own Hello Kitty
Death Squad and they fired their singer and did an instrumental set
- great players. The Beer Mug again successfully restored our faith
in Truth, Rock and the American Way and smalltown is a faded memory
and will continue to fade until about ten years from now when PTSD
kicks in and the nightmares return.
There was party after at John's but I slipped out the backdoor. Driving
home at 4 in the am after a showmy head always feels like I've done
something wrong but it is untouchable as I scan for police on the
road.I get home and when my head hits the pillow I hope I can get
to sleep before the birds start chirping and squawking.
| 7/9/04 |
|
--telefonics vs. smalltown PA
I just crawled out of the rock I've been hiding under and it looks
like the coast is clear to give a much briefer and safer posting -
plus I have found a new scapegoat so get ready to shift your all your
negative sentiments on to our very own John Johnston. Do not panic
- I know what you are thinking: How could John offend anyone, he's
practically Canadien (spent ten years of his life there, acts like
one, is a pacifist and hates any socialized pro-American patriotic
activity including fireworks).But sadly, it is true - not only did
he offend hundreds (maybe thousands),he created a ripple in the thin
moral fiber of the civilized world.
What is it he did you may ask, and how can it be worse than your last
posting? Well, nothing could be worse than the last posting but that
was yesterday's news and today's news is always much jucier.To properly
convey the message I will try to put you at the scene of the crime.
| 7/4/04 |
|
Setting: In any smalltown,USA (specifically - Edinboro,
Pa) a small fireworks festival where several hundred to a thousand
or so gather on a grassy lawn situated about 50 yards away from a
small lake.It starts out as a beautiful day but then the rain falls
hard and the first bad omen is unseen by the masses in the form of
tiny creatures under the earth crawling to the surface to suckle in
the comfort of the slimish dirt and decay that acts as an invisible
barrier between society and reality. (think Twin Peaks).
Chapter One: It is a family gathering with children whose mouths
were full of cotton candy and funnel cakes. Most of these children
have been well-protected from any exposure to societies' underbelly
and have only experienced petty surburban evils.They walk around innocently,
barely able to control the excitement a child experiences at a country
festival.
However, their parents are uneasy as if a wolf slipped into the festival
disguised in sheep's clothing.Their intuitions sharpen as strangers
in the form of rock and roll bands> walk upon their grassy knoll with
the same strut as vampires walking into a house when invited. The
second bad omen strikes when the rain pours heavily on Black Rose
Diary and a breaker goes out in the middle of their set (God certainly
wasn't digging them that day).
After Black Rose finished their set, a caravan of Black Roses
and Telefonics headed to the local Taco Bell when the third bad omen
struck - all was not well in Smalltown. By the time the last bean
burrito was served it took over an hour's time. There is no fast food
in smalltown. Taco Bell, the last semblance of any civilization seemed
as if it was just a meer shell to lure us into a suburbia nightmare.
Even its handicap doors opened and closed at will - and no, I did
not take anything that would make me hallucinate and Josh from Black
Rose could attest to this story.
We drove the three blocks and arrived back at the festival, slightly
shaken by our experience. Blue Fire was still playing what seemed
like a loooooooong set but our van was cranking hip-hop (Dr. Dre or
the like). A grandmother in a panic urgently ordered her grandson
to run from the obscenities that spewed out of the van's speakers.
This little boy (the grandson) will never be the same and you better
put a few of those taxpayer dollars away for his future stays in institutions
and prisons. Very few witnessed this scenario, so no one had any premonitions
of the horror that was to fall upon small-town. The unsuspecting parents
thought the uneasiness they felt earlier must have come from a bad
hot dog and they were numbed by the sights, sounds and the tastes
of the festival.
Chapter Two
We hit the stage in our usual fashion - scrambling like madmen with
a fixed obsession. Ours was to set up our ridiculous amount of equiptment
- bells and whistles and such.Though we barely finished our first
song (I'll take the credit for that), the next few went over decently
and besides a few heads shaking in disgust, most of the smalltown
folk went merrily about their smalltown business at the smalltown
fair.
Then all hell broke loose. We were in the middle of a rocking punk
cover (the Rezillos, curious reader) and Mr. Never Harm a Living Thing
in his Life (besides some small animal he stoned dead as a kid) dropped
the F-Bomb on the unsuspecting masses.Heads turned, mouths gaped open,
women shrieked, big hands flew to cover little ears and then a shockwave
froze all the Protectors of smalltown into inaction. The band kept
playing, oblivious to the stain unleashed for the Telefonics are no
strangers to maleficence and at times embrace in its warmth.
The Protectors slowly came out of their stupor and the strongest of
them, dressed in a fireman's shirt and jeans violently rushed the
stage and went into a head on confrontation with the malefactor -
John J.and this is where things get blurry. From my view I saw a tall
lean hero of morality screaming and intimidating, with perhaps some
spittle flying as he unleashed his uncontrolable rage on a dumbfounded
(what did I do wrong look on his face) John J. Being that John hates
confontation I looked at his hands (his thumbs usually twiddle when
he gets really nervous) but they were tightly gripped around his stratwhich
was his only shield between him and the justice of smalltown hero
fireman.I figured this was a perfect time to tune my guitar which
I hastily attended too. I heard this savior of all that is sacred
scream that they will shut us down (turn off the power) and kick us
off the grounds if this happens againand I knew it was time for us
to rock once more. I smiled knowing that I really shouldn't be feeling
as good as I did about what passed as a slammed a distorted A chord.
Why they let us go on I really can't say,but I suspect that it is
because the Protectors wanted to downplay what just passed and having
us go on was the best way to gloss this over - they knew they were
taken a chance but the smalltown protectors, just like any good Americans,
bullied us into TRUTH, JUSTICE and the AMERICAN WAY.We finished our
set, grabbed our shit and ran for higher ground.
I later learned that the unsuspecting, innocent guy that booked us
was screamed at by two seperate smalltown Protectors for bringing
us to their hallowed ground. This bookie talked to John J.about what
happened and John vehemently defended himself saying, "they should
have told us we couldn't say 'fuck' before we went on". At the
same time a four-year old girl walked by with her mother and said,
"Mommy mommy, do you want to hear the new word I learned from
the Telefonics". Common sense feigned Mr. Johnston and he immediatley
paid ahead the dues owed for being a member of the SSCCATAGAPP (singles,
seniors, childless couples and teens and gays against parasitic parents).
The gentleman who booked us mentioned that this was July 4, our Independence
Day and the first amendment of our constitution celebrates freedom
of speech which got me thinking (but not for very long) about whether
morality crushes our freedoms.It's a fuckin' ethical dilemma and after
my last posting - I'm not touching it. It would be safe to say, just
as Jim Morrison and the Doors were never invited back to the Ed Sullivan
show, the Telefonics will never be invited back to Smalltown.
E ver since the show the Telefonics have been in hiding but come July
9th - that's right, 24 hours from now the Telefonics will seek sanctuary
at our beloved Beer Mug. It is the Telefonics home away from the practice
room - a place you can smoke, drink, swear, spit, piss, punch - well
you can do just about anything. Freedoms prevail at the Beer Mug and
fake morals do not exist. It is the true American way. Thank you,
Paul - may God shine down on you. Come join us in this shrine where
anything and everything goes as the Telefonics rock there this Friday
night.
On a lighter note we will be doing a song on a soundtrack for a film
called "Grim" that has been accepted to a couple of indie
film festivals. John will give you the details if he's fully recovered
from his harrowing smalltown experience.
| 6/11/04 |
|
Fuck the NBA Finals!!
I'm on my break at work and it's time for another randomly periodical
update (Is that half an oxymoron?). I'm at work listening to a Luna
Cd and I'm getting pretty tired of it but it's the only CD in my desk.
I've been contemplating getting the Stooges CD in my car but have
yet to take action.
Anyways, enough about me. I have much bigger news.
Have you heard all the smack the Black Rose Diary Boys (Josh has been
there spokesman) are talking abouthow they are going to bring down
"da pain" on the Telefonics in a game of hoops. Josh is
talking shit about how they hustle in the playground and they'll beat
us even if they gave us a ten point lead in a game to eleven. He is
very good shit talker. I could not match him at this game and my only
retort was that his momma was so ugly that -well I can't really repeat
it on this website but just one look at Josh's momma and you'll understand.
Black Rose if you're listening - BRING IT ON - faggots.
Uh oh - in an overzealous moment I let that one slip. Does anyone
know how to edit in notepad? I did not mean to offend and risk losing
half our fan base and some of my friends- I was not referring to sexual
orientation but simply that they (Black Rose) are pussies. I did not
use this word because it is very offensive, almost as much as the
word "cunt". However, although these words refer to the
same thing, in the right context they have two totally different meanings
- my description of Black Rose is a perfect example of the use of
"pussies" in the rightcontext. If I described them as "cunts"
it would have a totally different meaning and it would be an inaccurate
description. Cunts would definitely kick our ass in a game of
basketball - drat, I did it again (offensivecomment). I feel like
I'm spiralling downwards on an already slippery slope. I can't even
use the excuse that I was drunk when I wrote this,thus excusing me
of all actions and absolving me completely of any responsibility for
these actions, because if my boss reads this I already mentioned that
I am writing this during my break at work.Being drunk at work during
these dangerous times of the Bush administration is not a good idea.
Are you sure there is no one out there who knows how to edit in Notepad???
Perhaps I can redirect by changing the subject.
We were at Zack's (Telefonics drummer) high school graduation party
- yes, in front of our eyes our little drummer boy has become a man
and contributing generation xxx member of our society. Mucho congratulations.
At the party there was a buzz in the air about Black Rose taking on
the mighty Telefonics in a game of B-ball. It was originally a two
on two between Josh and Jeff of Black Rose against Pete and John from
the Telefonics. I have played hoops with John and I know he is good
and that I can also play. I have not seen Josh play but he talk very
good shit about how they (Black Rose) are gods of the playground.
For an example of howgood Josh's shittalk is go to Playerie.com. His
choice of vernacular describing how the Telefonics play basketball
had my literary senses tingling.I have not seen Jeff play but he seems
much to short to be a basketball player. However, this can be very
deceiving for those of us who remember "Tiny" Nate Archibald.
The teams were set and we were ready to play when a bomb dropped on
me. Unbeknownst to me and with more than a little apprehension I was
informed that we had each taken on a third player. Our player is former
Telefonics drummer, Eric Mildner. I could not get a mental picture
of Eric having any skills on the court no matter how hard I
tried, even with my mind in action mode and not on still photo. Then
Eric walked into the party with a shiny, orange Spaulding basketball
- you know, the kind that has the perfect grip and shape that
looks like it was made to go through a metal circle with only
a swishing sound to be heard. My tension was lifted and I knew
then that everything was as it should be. The third party for Black
Rose is their superhuman drummer - John M.
Since Josh wants no part of rubbing asses with me on the court, I
may have to take on the daunting task of guarding this villian
with extraordinary powers - I hope I don't get puked on.
This is a rock band website, isn't it? I better get back to the music
. We are now in the very later stages of our 100 year recording. Do
you know it only took Black Rose Diary two days and a half to record
their whole CD (it took me that long to put down one thirty second
guitar solo - mainly because Roland made the track disappear and he/she
(Roland has both male and female traits) offered no explanation for
this. I do not know the reason for the lengthy process of our
recording. I have theorized that Josh (who worked the knobs for a
bunch of our songs when we recorded) was in cohorts with Roland to
sabatoge us. I quickly dismissed this theory when I realized that
we (Telefonics) frequently fuck up.
Get ready for our new CD. Get ready for our game of hoops with Black
Rose who also have a CD coming out. The odds in Vegas have Black Rose
heavily favored at 5:1 (mainly due Josh's superior trash talk about
how they are going to destroy us) but word on the street is that the
Telefonics are going to come out looking good and that's what it's
all about anyways. Since the bad blood is burning about the
B-ball game, I have unsuccessfully attempted to go cold turkey from
all Black Rose Diary music. The problem is that their songs are so
damn catchy (and I also think Josh has tapped into Roland's mind washing
powers). Do not be surprised ifI pull up to the court with my windows
down and the new Black Rose CD blaring right before we play, I can'thelp
myself.
For anyone I have not re-directed sufficiently (you know what I'm
talking about) I apologize for my remarks earlier in this post but
getting back to sexual orientation I have an interesting story to
tell. We (Telefonics) walked into a bar in Cleveland to play a show
and Gina said, "the people in the bar think all the boys (in
the Telefonics) are gay except you (myself).This is when Eric Milner
was our drummer and Matt (keyboards and vocals) were in the band.
I have now alienated my band members as well as fans, friends, my
boss,and crushed my political ambitions (the Telefonics is merely
my stepping stone from which to launch my highly elevated political
platform). However, the story in the beginning of this paragraph serves
a higher purpose and may even bring me salvation. I told this story
not only because it is amusing, but mainly because now I am forcing
John's hand (he certainly won't want this story printed) to edit this
horribly offensive posting. I am sure John is capable of this task
- he is a very good editor.I have witnessed many times live when he
edited my guitar parts out of the recording (sometimes he just turns
down my levels).All will be well and our fans and friends will remain
blissfully ignorant, my boss will be pacified, I won't get kicked
out of the band, and my future political career will remain intact.
If by some chance this does not occur, I give you my vote of confidence
(I'm practicing my political jargon) that I will never again post
such a controversial piece again on our website. This is starting
to sound like William S. Burroughs meets Hunter S. Thompson (without
the drugs or literary value) with a little jock smack thrown in to
establish a broader audience base.
One last thought - if you think about it - aren't we all a little
strange when it comes to sexual orientation. For example, Manco has
a thing for dressing up in Star Trek uniforms. Beam me up, Scotty
- I'm outta here.
| 5/20/04 |
|
Special News By Pete who will be giving updates on a regular basis!
Hey Hey Hey to everyone who’s endured our unchanging website.
Manco’s brilliancy has not materialized on this site so you
will have to settle for my blah blah mediocrity. This is only being
written because a client blew me off (I have time), no one else is
doing it and we haven’t posted in 4 months (to be honest, our
hits are down on this site – not that this is going to help).
We have played too many shows to list since the last posting but here
are a few highlights. We were on our best behavior at Blue Cat Cubed
and what a rocking festival – my ears are still ringing and
my toes are still tapping. We were on our worst behavior for the Hope
Harvey show in Pittsburgh and apologize for our scoundrel-like nature
so please don’t diss us – you make us a better band.
After what seems like 20 years of being imprisoned in the dungeon
(studio), bound by a pair of headphones, guitar straps and guitar
chords and a machine called Roland with many knobs that on occasion
can inflict serious mental anguish and at times – total mind
washes, we are on the verge of completing our new CD. Do not be shocked
at our pasty appearances – when the sun is too bright it hurts
our eyes and head.
John’s recording techniques, guitar, keyboards and noise are
arranged with exquisite taste, Gina’s voice is sweet, sexy and
sultry, Zack totally rocked on drums, Manco just bonded with Josh
(Black Rose nemesis) and I did my parts and complained (but not nearly
as much as Manco) if I didn’t like this or that. Our next show
is on May 21st and I don’t even know where – like I said,
I just show up and do my parts. E-mail John and he will let you know,
or if Roland lets him out of the dungeon he may even post the location.
Do not sit and wait by your computer for our next posting lest your
appearance becomes as pasty as ours but if you have 5 minutes and
are near your computer, come to our site and click on as many pages
as possible (you don’t have to read or even look at the site)
so we have a lot of hits and we feel important. Best to all you telefonians
and Roland says – Come to our next show (in his mind washing
tone).
| 12/31/03 |
|
Happy New Year!!
Please check out our new single Hey
Hey Hey. Let us know what you think...shoot us an email
or better yet sign the guestbook! This will appear on a compilation
by the Dynamo Sound Collective...more details later on where you can
get this!
We are busy at work on our new CD and have two other songs coming
out on compilations.
Thanks to all who came out and decreased your lifespans at our last
show at the Beer Mug!! There will be lots of shows, all over the place
in 2004 now that our van passed inspection so we'll keep you updated.
We love you all. Really.
| 11/26/03 |
|
Happy Thanksgiving!!
First off the show at the Docksider was as good as it could be. Thanks
alot for coming out! The next night we played this weird bar in Pittsburgh
called Howlers, but the show was fun other then John getting shocked
by the microphone and then performing some sort of weird strip tease...well
actually that was fun, or at least funny, although we were exhausted
after staying up half the night partying with the Dirty Faces from
Pittsburgh. Thanks to our good pals, the Hope Harvey's for setting
up the Pittsburgh date!
Last weekend, our favorite haunt, the Beer Mug was buzzing with one
of our favorite Pittsburgh bands Local Honey, our new Cleveland friends
the Cap Gun Cowboys and of course us!! It is weird to play in Erie
on consecutive weekends, something we try not to do alot, but THANKS
to all those who came out both nights!
On the recording front we have laid down the basic tracks for nine
songs for our next CD. We are currently in debate whether to release
a double CD (not like we have any shortage of material).
Anyway, after our show at the Beer Mug with the Johnsons
Big Band and Black
Rose Diary (on Friday 12.12.03) and at the Hangout (Saturday
12.13.03) with the same bunch, we will be taking some time off to
finish recording and whatnot. I think we have one Hangout show in
January, but that's it. We were asked to do a Syd Barrett tribute
show in Buffalo in January, but I think we're turning it down...it's
a weeknight and a long way to drive!! So, hopefully the new record
will be done by Febuary (yeah fat chance) and we start hitting the
road hard.
OK, until next time...
| 11/11/03 |
|
Sorry for the long time between updates...plan way more in the future.
This one is quick. We have started recording our new record...we plan
on taking most of the month of January off to finish this baby up.
More on that later.
The club No Excuses in Cleveland sucks although the sound guy is cool.
Plus a big fuck you to The New Mistakes. More on that later.
There's all sorts of talk about a telefonics video and we have a couple
of songs on compilations coming out. One on Northern Lights Records
and another one on a label that I can't remember the name. More on
that later.
| 9/11/03 |
|
We are honored to be playing the after party for the Great
Lakes Film Festival on 9/12/03 at the beautiful Docksider
Lounge in downtown Erie. This is year two for the festival and here's
hoping that there's many more after this!! For those of you who saw
any of the msuic/movie fundraisers from earlier in the year, make
sure you catch some good flicks and then head out to the Docksider
for some FREE music, featuring yours truly, our pals Torn
Curtain and our Pittsburgh brethren the Viragos.
Also, on a sad note we have two more ex-telefonics...bass player Fred
Kruegger has left us and is now playing full-time with Canadian Friday
(a kind of telefonics/black rose diary offshoot band) and Chris Keem
is now in grad school full-time.
The wonderful flip side of this is that Manco is back and on his best
behavior, so expect more crazy antics then ever!! And, we have added
teen heartthrob and drummer extrodanairre Zach Harras to the family!!
Rawk!!
| 7/16/03 |
|
Check out the new shows added...lots of stuff going on including a
series of shows with the Johnson's
Big Band from Pittsburgh.
In the next couple of weeks we will start filming a video for our
new single Recovery Stage that appears on the Play
Erie.com CD and has been getting some airplay on Rocket 101 in
Erie (via the home grown show) plus, a spin on a college station in
Toronto. Local filmmaker Pat Hritz has graciously offered to shoot
the video for us!! We are excited...our first video. Expect snippets
and downloads on this site soon. Plus, he has asked telefonics to
write the music to his next short film! Yaaaaay.
We are also currently auditioning drummers to replace Chris. He is
giving up rock and roll for education, so if you know someone or are
a drummer yourself, get in contact! We have lots of people to fill
in while we find a permanent replacement so we'll continue to play
regularly. In the meantime, we are starting pre-production on our
new CD (that is a nice way of saying we're attempting to get our lazy
asses into recording mode!!). All for now.
| 6/25/03 |
|
Lots of stuff going on...first thanks to Pi=3 this super cool noise
band from Edinboro...they are kind of like the Velvet Underground
when they were still the Exploding Plastic Inevitable playing Lou
Reed's Metal Machine Music and our pals Black
Rose Diary for a cool all ages show at the hangout in Edinboro.
Also, watch for Telefonics to be playing the opening night of the
Great Lakes Film Festival...at least that is what we have been told.
Plus more cool shows with our pals Levi
Ride , Shade
and the super cool and talented Jocelyn Porter Project (buy her new
CD...it was recorded in telefonics very own basement Silvertone studio...actually
so was the new Black
Rose Diary CD!!--so buy them both).
Next we have a mini-four day tour planned with our personal faves...the
Johnson's Big Band...there will be nights of debauchery and rock and
roll involved with this bunch!
Now for the bad news...Matt Thompson...keyboard and vocalist extrodanairre
of telefonics is departing and leaving for the greener pastures of
Nashville, Tennesee in search of a fame in fortune playing Christian
folk, or alt country or waiting tables or something like that. Anyway,
we will miss him and his insane banter, lounge singer schtick and
inability to find Canada in a car!
But...it also appears, well I guess more like is happening...Craig
(aka Fred...really) Kruegger will be joining the band. He has been
filling in while Kevin has been sick, and we love him so much he can't
leave. We'll sort out what everyone will be playing and doing later
b/c Kevin and him both play bass...but for now it's all about the
rock!
Oh yeah, we are, or will be recording a new CD and plan on some BIG
surprises in the future so stay tuned for more.
| 05/26/03 |
|
Telefonics head out to Buffalo and London to play with our good pals
levi ride
Be sure to check out the upcoming shows for all the fun and craziness.
Our good pal and friend Craig Kruegger will be filling in on bass
guitar temporarily while Kevin recovers from surgery.
More pics and merchandise soon!!
New Single Available for Download.
Check out Recovery Stage Part II in the music section. This song is
featured on the new PlayErie.com
Compilation CD. Lots of great local artists including yours truly.
Check out liner notes for it right here
Thanks to the Horns of Destruction, Brenda, John and Michael, for
your fine blowing and our pals, Christine (Jocelyn Porter Project),
Danielle, Sue, Paul (of Levi Ride fame) for singing and, Justus (knob
spinning) and Melissa (for sitting and refusing to sing) for making
this beast a reality!
Telefonics Play Bleu Kat's 2
telefonics show theme "more candy, less war"
Possibly the coolest thing that will happen in Erie this year. Bands
featured were the fantastic Black
Rose Diary, The
Human Being Lawnmower , Joe Popp's Weirdo Theatre, Lake Trout,
Frog Tree Gorge Band, and our pals from NYC Douglas
Leader.
Plenty of cool art, performance, dance and music...check out the review
of telefonics performance in the review section or right here:
telefonics review.
Telefonics will hopefully be releasing a live CD of their performance
at Bleu Kat's 2!!, which could include their cover of Give Peace a
Chance, with the last verse rewritten (sorry John L.--but times are
a changin'), featuring Matt Thompson on vox and John throwing candy.
Telefonics Add New Drummer
Welcome Chris Keem to the telefonics fold...coming from a long line
of drummers, Chris has the distinction of drumming with the infamous
Warrior Frenzy as well as several Buffalo bands...alas we finally
say goodbye to our pal and friend Erik Mildner and enter the Keem
era. |
