TINA PEEL

TINA PEEL - THE BAND THAT GLOWED IN THE DARK
The year was 1976 and I was living in an efficiency apartment, collecting welfare and playing bass in a weekend cover band. The only way to keep my sanity in the conservative confines of my hometown of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, was to live vicariously through Rock Scene magazine. The burgeoning NYC underground scene seemed fascinating, and they were the only ones covering it. Patti Smith, The Ramones, and Television were featured regularly, although they didn't have records out. I had to imagine what they sounded like. From what I'd seen and read, I pictured a mix of punky New York Dolls swagger, 60's garage band minimalism and a nod to the once commercial pop stylings of the Dave Clark 5 and Paul Revere & The Raiders. - Photos of the scenester's main hang-out, a nearly condemned Bowery bar with the mysterious and unfathomable name "CBGB," beckoned me. In a fit of inspiration, I began writing my own songs, in the style I had imagined. I began a mission to form a band of like-minded individuals to learn my songs, with the intent of moving to NYC. I'd fantasized about living in New York's Greenwich Village ever since I first visited it in the 60's. Of course, the average Harrisburg musician would never even consider leaving his cushy mall job, or his cover band, to go chasing fame in the Big Apple. Amazingly enough, I knew two musicians who were into some weird shit. Victor Poisontete and Jim Nastix were in a gang I was in. Along with 4 other guys, we would go to the all-nighters that were held at the Silver Springs Drive-In Theatre 3 times a year, and, basically, get drunk and raise hell. Victor and Jim's band, "Darling Victim," did lots of NY Doll's covers, so I got them to record some demos with me. Another friend, Jack Bertolette, who would later play drums for The Punk Rock Janitors, was recruited too, as well as a very straight-looking pianist who we got from an ad in the paper. After one rehearsal, I decided that my songs needed some Shangrilas style harmonies and I began talent-scouting for gals who wouldn't mind vocalizing on some of my rather uncompromising lyrics. Newspaper ads produced a 300 lb. black chick named Jennifer, and a housewife named Karen. Victor volunteered his girlfriend, Deb, to round out the trio, soon to be christened "The Oralettes". From the start, it was understood that this was merely a group of musicians assembled to record my stuff, and not an aspiring band. After about 4 rehearsals, this motley crew entered Westa studios, which was a 4-track studio in a barn somewhere in the backwoods of Pennsyltucky. Despite an uncanny resemblance to the famous pitchfork weilding farm couple of "American Gothic" fame, the owners were musicians themselves, and their hillbilly band, The Keystoners, played the local redneck watering holes. They were surprisingly open-minded about our material, and after we recorded "Penis Between Us," informed me that they were members of a local swinger club. - It was about this time when I'd driven to NYC to see the Dictators at CBGB. The opening act was the Dead Boys. I'd never heard of them, but was blown away by their over-the-top performance. They didn't have a bassist, so I offered my services. Stiv invited me to audition the next week. I hitched a ride to NYC and passed the audition. They invited me to play with them that night. We prepared for the show in Joey Ramone's apartment, as they informed me that the show was a benefit for Punk magazine. We were playing on the same bill as David Johansen, Blondie, Patti Smith, Richard Hell and Suicide! Our set was a screaming success and the Dead Boys made it official. I was in the band. Debbie Harry came up close and whispered congratulations. Man Overboard indeed! I returned to Harrisburg, packed my belongings and waited for further instructions. Two weeks later, Dead Boy's guitarist Jimmy Zero, called to tell me they'd decided to take Jeff Magnum. Undaunted, I proceeded to send my demo tapes to record labels, magazines and clubs, and used them to lure potential musicians. In the interim, I secured a paying gig as a guitarist in President Carter's CETA program for unemployed musicians. Our traveling troupe of welfare bums played for captive audiences... Prisons. Mental hospitals. Nursing homes. I watched an old lady die in her wheel chair as I played "You Are My Sunshine." The troupe consisted of a blind female organist, a Puerto Rican jazz group, a black ex-prize fighter turned con, who acted as MC, and The Dognappers. The Dognappers were me and a bearded lumberjack of a guitarist/singer named Don Judy, who picked fingerstyle and sang inoffensive stuff like "Alexander's Rag Time Band," and "Smoke That Cigarette." Once I had been recruited, we added some eclectic selections by the Holy Modal Rounders and Velvet Underground. When the program had another opening available, we added Victor's girlfriend and became a trio. It was Deb who convinced me that I could sing. And later, when I discovered she was a pianist, I convinced her to play organ. We began planning to form our own group outside the program. She bought a Farfisa compact, and we recruited a drummer she knew in high school. I don't know where we found our bass player, Rowdy. He was a gas station attendant from Perry County, Pennsyltucky's answer to Dogpatch. Our first rehearsal was held in the office of a labor leader type thug who was in charge of our CETA program. It was at the first rehearsal that we all agreed to become Tina Peel, and to move to New York City. Meanwhile, Deb and I developed a hot romance. She left Victor and moved in with me. Every fiber of our being was devoted to Tina Peel. We practiced incessantly, saved every dime for the big move, and lived hand-to-mouth for a year, surviving on food we stole from the hospitals we played. Since no Harrisburg bar or club would ever book a band that played their own material, we would just lug our equipment to shopping malls, plug into an outlet, and play until we were kicked out. It was at one of these malls that we met the Bernie, who we nicknamed the “punk rock janitor". Bernie would cover his work uniform with badges and safety pins, spike his hair, and convulse around the mall, playing his broom like a guitar. We learned that he had a band, three guys who all had been in special education together, and they just happened to all be janitors. They had some really predictable ‘punk’ name and dressed in predictable punk garb. I suggested that they wear their work clothes and call themselves the Punk Rock Janitors, and they did! I produced their demo, which has never been released, and got them gigs opening for Tina Peel. The Fuzztones' version of "Just Once" is a reworking of a Punk Rock Janitors tune by the same name. - Tina Peel were together for about two months when we got our first out-of-town gig. We played the Washington Punk Art Festival at the Washington Project of the Arts. Kim Kane, founder of the band The Slickee Boys and of the record label, Dacoit, was in attendance. “I met up with Rudi and Tina Peel at the festival," he recalls. "It was the only one we had, but it was great! It ran for three nights: an out of town night, a Baltimore punk night, and a D.C. night. Tina Peel came on and I was standing in the back. I loved them right away because they were cool and had a 60’s style that I grew up with. I freaked and ran around to find Skip Groff, to see if we could pool our money (both being quite poor) and put something out by them. I remember the band being shocked when I asked them to do it." - On weekends we'd hop in our $150 station wagon and drive to Manhattan to catch whatever band was playing CBGB's or Max's Kansas City. I joined two terrible cover bands and played weekends to supplement our savings. When the CETA program folded, our drummer, Jackson Plugs, and I would spend every weekend looking for apartments in Greenwich Village. We would head out on Friday night, go to CBGB, then sleep on the street in his vintage Volkswagen bus, waking early Saturday to scout for our new digs. It was summer, and the city was sweltering. By 7 AM, the stench of long-abandoned garbage and the racket of a thousand sirens, car horns and screaming cabbies, would jar us into bloodshot consciousness. We spent 3 months looking for an apartment, sometimes living out of the van for 5 or 6 day stretches. Finally, thanks to my sister, who came with us one weekend, we found a beautiful railroad apartment on Tenth, right across from Tompkins Square Park. The landlords, a gay couple, took a liking to my sister, and we secured the apartment. When the reality of our moving finally hit, our bass player, Rowdy, quit. Jackson found a job right away, as did Deb. I got on welfare and stayed home working on the business end. We held endless auditions in the filthiest hellholes ever to be construed as rehearsal spaces. We even practiced at a studio run by a crazy Russian who claimed to have managed the Rolling Stones and the Yardbirds. His name was Georgio Gomelsky. - Months went by with no signs of a sufficient bassist. Enter John Carlucci. John was a young, slim guido who came to the audition dressed like Fabian: flashy clothes and pomped hair, and a bleached blonde on his arm. He whipped out a Danelectro bass and we were sold. He wasn't, however, and opted to stay with his power-pop band, The Speedies. We remained pals, though, and even shared some life-threatening adventures, like the time a gang of hoods nearly killed us in Little Italy. John was an amateur photographer and, once we finally snagged our bass player, snapped our promo shots. - After several months of futility, we'd finally given up on finding a bassist in New York. I offered the gig to Jim Nastix, and he accepted. Though unwilling to relocate, Jim was willing to commute. Our first gig was the infamous Mudd Club, where we received the unheard of sum of $500. During the set, I fell into a hole in the stage and promptly began jumping on it until it became a gaping trench. It took a bit of convincing to get paid THAT night! - We added two gals to sing harmonies, once again dubbing them The Oralettes, much to their chagrin. We debuted the new line-up at Max's Kansas City, opening for The Misfits. The partition that separated our dressing room from theirs wasn't high enough to stave of the barrage of personalized pencils we threw at them. We thought they might enjoy the clever sayings, such as, "fetch my bone, you dog," that adorned each writing utensil. They just whined, "cut it out you guys!" Our paths crossed once more, soon after, when we spotted them in full punk regalia, hanging out at the Mudd Club. We began taunting them and soon found ourselves in a full on fistfight! The bouncers promptly booted our asses out! - Meanwhile, Skip Groff's label, Limp, teamed up with Kane's Dacoit, and released Tina Peel’s first EP, "More Than Just Good Looks". To my knowledge, this is the only record ever to be released with both sides credited to different labels. Although 1000 records were pressed, only 450 covers were printed. The remainder went without picture sleeves. The EP was recorded on a four track reel-to-reel in a basement somewhere in Pennsylvania. Somehow it got airplay on major New York radio stations such as WNEW and WPIX. Consequently we began playing more often and at better venues. After a few television appearances on local cable shows, we reached headlining status at clubs such as CBGB and Hurrah. Our most memorable TV performance was on The Uncle Floyd Show, a children’s program for adults. We lipsynched “Pajama Party", while decked out in kiddie pajamas, and halfway through the song we dropped their instruments and beat each other up with stuffed animals. When Floyd interviewed us, he asked what was up with the attire , and I replied that we were going to the Newark (his show was based in Newark, NJ) drive-in (doubt there ever was such a place) to see “Johnny Wadd meets Jackson Plugs". They actually bleeped out “Johnny Wadd" when it was aired! - By this time we'd coined the phrase, "Bubblegum Punk," to describe our sound. By citing the Monkees, Ohio Express, 1910 Fruitgum Company, and the Archies as our main influences, while opting for clashing black and white polka dots and striped Mod attire, instead of the leather-jacketed, torn t-shirt uniform of the moment, Tina Peel weren't exactly Punk magazine's choice for Next Big Thing. Although our intention was to dizzy the audience with our use of clashing clothes, set against a giant concentric circle backdrop, (all the while playing instruments that were covered in black and white op art designed contact paper), we DID vary our image occasionally. The pajama look was inspired by the song, and on special occasions we would throw a "pajama party" at a club, and anyone who arrived in pj's or lingerie got in free. Something about young,innocent looking "teens" playing cute, melodic songs with suggestive lyrics, sung in three part harmony, while dressed in custom kiddie-style pj's (mine was a Superman print, Deb's had hearts) just brings out the best in teenage girls. At clubs like DC's Childe Harolde, we'd be getting 15 year old chicks in see through nighties, all vying for a chance at US. - After one particularly inspired Childe Harolde show, a couple of large, greaser punk girls approached me upstairs in the dressing room, and demanded immediate attention. As one fan remembers: “After the show they (Tina Peel) were hanging out upstairs in the dressing room, and two rather scary gals came up and insisted Rudi party with them. He started being coy and invited them to "party" right there, in front of the rest of the band. When it was obvious that the girls were not going to get laid or high, they copped a violent attitude and started smashing up the dressing room. The band ended up physically throwing them down the stairs! Pretty funny considering they were still in their pajamas! Quite a sight. Seems the girls hadn’t had enough, though, and later when Tina Peel's drummer, Jackson Plugs, went out to load his van, they literally tried to run him down with their car. The cops were called in, and from what I recall, the Harold was closed soon after. - Tina Peel's choice of lyrical content and subject matter often alienated the less adventurous rock fan or serious rock critic. With odes to sexual malfunctions, such as "Bent Nail Syndrome," and "Exception to the Ruler," even Screw magazine was prompted to marvel "these guys are far more interested in their cocks than they should expect any of us to be." Tina Peel did accomplish my main objective, however, and that was to be the ultimate punk band and offend everyone. - It could be argued that The Fuzztones were a huge step from Tina Peel, but I'd like to point out that Tina Peel were covering "garage" tunes as far back as 1976. Selections such as ‘Are You a Boy or are You a Girl?’ by the Barbarians, "Hard Times" by the Centurys (a Pennsylvania group I saw backing the Shangri Las in 1965), and The Standells‘ "Sometimes Good Guys Don’t Wear White", were regulars on our set list, and were the tunes we'd invite members of bands like The Fleshtones and Speedies onstage to join in on. When we’d cover someone else’s stuff, we always gave it the Ramones’ treatment and sped it up. I was always on Black Beauties at the time, so it came naturally. In fact, I began providing two major clubs with speed on a weekly basis, and even had a small clientele that included Warhol superstar, Jackie Curtis! - By the time we released our second single, "Fifi Goes Pop," we were headlining regularly at Hurrah, one of New York's most prestigious clubs. Deb was working for Ian Copeland’s booking agency, Frontier, so we started getting opening slots for nearly every major new wave or powerpop band at the time, including Madness, XTC, The Stranglers, 999, Cherry Vanilla, and Split Enz. We also played double bills with the Slickee Boys, the Fleshtones, and The Speedies. During one show at CBGB’s, Tina Peel played all Slickee Boys songs, and the Slickee Boys played all Tina Peel tunes. - We started strong-arming Jim to move to NYC, but not even the Three-Mile Island meltdown could persuade him. Not long after the nuclear incident, cancerous legions formed on his arm. After he had them removed, he contracted testicular cancer. Still, he refused to leave his beloved Pennsylvania. The last straw came backstage at Hurrah one night when Jim mouthed off to the Vice President of Polygram Records. Polygram was interested in the band and were about to finance a demo session, but Jim blew it. - Speaking of Jims and blowing, Hurrah's Jim Fouratt, The booking agent for the trendy, gay-run disco, loved our kitsch sensibilities. But everytime I went to his office to collect our pay, he'd proposition me. Finally Mr. Fouratt told me, in no uncertain terms, that he expected sexual favors in return for the good pay the band was receiving. That was the last show we did for Hurrah until they changed booking agents. - Meanwhile we went through two more bass players and a coked out manager, who we'd attained after a gig at the prestigious Bottom Line. When our manager began to steer us into a more commercial approach, Tina Peel retaliated by becoming The Fabulous Fuzztones. At first, the idea was to be our own opening act. We learned a set of 60's garage covers, and opened for Tina Peel at Hurrah. To our surprise, we went over better than Tina Peel! - By 1980, Tina Peel had run its course. Deb and I were becoming much more interested in The Fabulous Fuzztones, so we abandoned Tina Peel, dropped the "Fabulous," and became The Fuzztones. The other members decided they weren't into it, so we replaced them.Now just watch. This album will come out and we'll have to do a reunion. All I can say is, just don't expect to see me dressed like that again!
Rudi Protrudi 2002