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Mark Taber: My name is Mark Taber, and I was born on January 1st, 1944. And this, this has nothing to do with music, but it's interesting anyway. Cause, born in Amesbury [Massachusetts] on he 1st of January, I was the first baby born in that town that year- which gave me the title of Mr Amesbury. Which wasn't until 9:35 at night on January 1st, right? And, for my mother's efforts, because the first baby born in the town – you know now, they give you cases of diapers and all that kind of stuff – she got a free tank of gas. Which was big, because World War Two, there was gas rationing, you couldn't just go buy gas, ya know, there were certain gas rations. So she got a tank free tank of gas for me. That's kinda nice.
Brandon Cook: I think that's cool.
MT: I'm sure she thought so. My dad said it fucked up his taxes, but... ya know, he had to declare it or something.
BC: Did you have any siblings?
MT: I got an older brother, and he was umm, he's still alive, he's 4 yours older than I am. We didn't do much hanging out together; 4 years difference, as kids, is a lot. When I was 8, he was 12, vica versa, when he was 16 I was 12. So it umm, he's older than I am. And we didn't do that much hangin out, but we were like night and day anyway. He was ya know, good old American boy, played baseball and hung out with his buddies and all that good shit. I took immediately to jazz and blues and poetry and Allen Ginsberg- I just loved him at a very young age.
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BC: Do you know where you first got exposed to uhh... Ginsberg for instance?
MT: Yah, there was this family called the Priscoe family that lived behind me. And i was friends, they had uhh, 3 boys and 2 girls. And umm... one of the boys, Billy and I were good friends, and we would hang out together. And his older brother Louie, who was my older brother's age, they were in high school, anyway Louie was into Blues and Jazz and Count Basie, and very intellectual. And I went down there to go to Louie's house and we, billy and I, his brother, we'd hang out there. And really was like a teacher. He says, he'd put his finger up, “Now listen to this.” And he'd play these old '78s of Joe Turner and Ruth Brown and all these great blues guys. And I'd never heard that kind of music, ya know? I don't know about you, but I was raised in a very Ossie and Harriet kind of family, 50s pure 50s stuff. And I went, wow, this is awesome. And I took classical, I was taking classical music. And I heard that music, and I thought... it just opened, the doors just opened up. And he was into reading Jack Karouac at the time. Says, “Oh you gotta read 'On the Road' Mark, you gotta read 'On the Road'”. Which I did, and... being the type of kid I was, I had to be careful which movies and books I read, cause I would want to go out and do this shit. And I read On the Road' and just ran away from home, and freaked my parents – I mean, I was gone for frickin days, I mean back to back. I thought, “I got to do this...”
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BC: How old were you when that happened?
MT: About 13. Probably about that. But it was like a cultural kind of an opening. And I very much got into jazz, while all my friends at that time... umm, Elvis hadn't quite come out yet, but – yah, he was coming out, he was going on Ed Sullivan and stuff – but I didn't care for him. I was into things like Duke Ellington and and Count Basie and Doug Powell and ya know, all these jazz things. I mean, I thought anybody who listened to rock and roll was frickin crazy. Now I love it, but – then, you know you'd make your distinctions. Cause there would be huge fights over the younger sister, who was into Bobby Ridell. And there was 1 record player. Who was gonna get to play the record? Are we gonna sit around and play Joe Turner, or is she gonna come over with her little fuckin' 45 thing adapter and want to play Bobby Ridell and Dionne and the Belmonts or some crazy ass shit. But that was, well that worked out well, and she and I are good friends today over it. But I started musically, I started then, practicing with other people.
BC: When did you first start playing piano?
MT: I took lessons when I was about 4 or 5, and took lessons for about 5 or 6 years; classical. I loved it. I was the asshole. I was the one that would stay inside and practice Bach, ya know? And my mother would come downstairs and say “Mark, it's a beautiful day, it's a beautiful summer day, go out and play baseball with your friends and shit.” Well, I had absolutely no desire to do that, I'm not the least big competitive, I totally sucked at baseball, I knew they wouldn't want me on their fuckin team anyway. I mean, I like Bach! To me this is real meat and potato stuff which I liked doing. My brother, my older brother he'd be out there doing the baseball, goin fishin and football, baadaadaa... ya know, all that kind of shit. But along that area, when I got into, when I was introduced by Louie into all this music stuff, I thought “What a wonderful thing that is.” And you would meet up with, I think karma just happened, and you'd meet up with other people that just kinda had the same interests. You think there's nobody out there, but holy shit, you get talking in gym glass – or bunking gym class is probably what you'd do, you'd be bunking gym class out somewhere and you get talking to somebody else who's bunking gym class else, and uhh... he plays sax, this guy Ryan Tuxero who I've heard now is recently pass away, but... he had a saxophone. So he'd come to my house, or I'd go to his house, and we'd just practice these riffs and shit ya know? And his father was an East Providence detective, so we ended up being able to practice over at the F.O.P. hole in East providence.
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BC: The F.O.P. Hole?
MT: Yah, federal order of police. Or fraternal order of police, or whatever. And they were great with that, they were happy with it. They knew where we were, looking back at it now, they knew where we were and what we were doing. You're not gonna get into much trouble with a room full of cops who are sitting there drinking beer. Ya know, they were drinkin the beer, we weren't – firemen have that, little social clubs. But that's where we could practice, they were keepin a good eye on us like that. But we just loved doing it. And occasionally I'd have a gig come up, and do that. Then I started playing when I was 15 in bars and... I would bunk highschool, I freakin hated highschool. It was awful. I don't even want to get into it, cause it's just terrible. But I would go downtown in Providence where there're lots of bars, and in those days bars had pianos. They don't any more, but ya know – they weren't electric pianos, they were just, they weren't there – but bar rooms would have pianos. And usually in pretty beat up shape with cigar burns all over the keys, and they all smelled like beer and beer stains all over the freakin place. And I would go down there and walk in, and they knew i wasn't 21, that was obvious. But I would ask, “can I just practice the piano?” to the owner. And they'd be in there sweeping up, there'd be nobody in there except a couple of day drinkers. And they'd let you play, and they like the way I played, so “yah, come on down anytime you want.” So I had 2 or 3 of those places I could go to. And that was good experience for me, cause I'd be reading about all these people that were playin nightclubs and stuff, and I thought “man, this is just freaking great.” Ya know, looking back you're playing blown out bar rooms and the stench of them all the cigar smoke – but I loved it, I just gravitated toward it.
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BC: Were you getting paid, or...?
MT: No, course not. No, they'd give me soda. No, school got out I'd have to hightail it home and pick my books where I'd hide em under the underpass, and walk into the house like nothing happened. How's school today? Oh find, baadaadaa. But there was a certain fascination of playing out in front of people. Cause some of the people really liked it, said “Well kid, you're cool.” I was like 15, maybe 15, 16, very young. But I thoroughly enjoyed that. And that's how I met up with, actually, Kenny Lyon with the tombstone band. And I was a camp counselor for a while at a church camp, and Kenny's father was a minister. And Kenny was very much into music then- I guess he was heavily drinking and his father got him to go to church camp to get him away from drinking and all this kind of stuff, dry him up for a while. So I hooked up with him there, cause there'd be a piano in the barn; there were a couple of pianos in the bar. And he'd made this gut bucket bass, ya know taking a washtub and a broomstick and a rope and bumbumbum. He got huge blisters out of the thing, but we had, there was a drummer Charlie who played drums, we had... at that time there was a book out, a very popular book, it was called 'God's Little Acre'. Kenny named the band 'God's Little Combo'. We'd do blues and jazz, and sit there – there was a jazz mass written back in those days in the episcopal church, they called it jazz, I dunno if it was real jazz, but they called it a jazz mass. Very contemporary music, and we played from that. Again, it was more taste for playing for people, and there was just a certain excitement about it. In fact, we felt we were on a gig. And when it came time for when people were taking communion, the 3 of us would go outside the barn and light up cigarettes, like we were on a freakin gig, right? Now the priest got pissed off, and he... we're supposed to be up there taking communion too, this isn't a freaking nightclub – “This is church over here, what're you doing standing outside smoking cigarettes?” Ya know, it was cool. That's how I met Kenny, and camp got over and then I heard he was playing somewhere. We got to be very close friends, and I heard he was playing over at Bovie's in East Providence. And he called me and said “Why don't you come over sometime?” And I did. And we just played, and he had a couple musicians there... very loose, very loosely put together.
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BC: Was this at Bovie's?
MT: At Bovie's tavern. And it just caught on. There was, ya know, a bass player would come in, and this would come in, and another would join... Kenny was in college, so he would hook up with these other people in college like Al Labelle and various people like that. And um, the band just started. What I was thinking before too, it was interesting back then how bands would start. I mean, I guess everything starts with a garage band. Ya know, somebody's just hanging out with somebody, just sitting around in somebody's living room getting stoned and shit just having a good time playing. And somebody walks in the room and says “Hey, that sounds good”, and of course they're both so stoned they believe it. And ya know, they go into a bar and try to get a gig – and things, they usually did. And of course all their friends would come down to support them, cause “Holy shit! Joey and Harry are in a band!” “Oh no shit? Well Ginger and Veronica are gonna come down cause Ginger wants to go out with Joey, but don't tell Veronica cause Veronica likes him too and Joey will get really pissed off cause he's got the hots for Veron–” Ya know, all that stupid ass shit's going on. But, it fills a club. And all these people are coming, they'd all be meeting each other. What I can remember of all that stuff, it was very informal and there was such innocence around it; there was no cover at any doors, you didn't pay anything to get in anywhere really, wherever we were. That was really nice, you just would walk in, everything was really loose, and umm... there was a very fun element to the whole thing. And it's really a daze.
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SP: I think, one other thing too that I noticed, this would be like going on – and then Steve Parisi, that's where I met Steve. Cause Tombstone, we would be there on Tuesday nights, Parisi and other rock bands would play there on other nights of the week. So I'd go see them, ya know, the Wailin Banshees? Oh, I thought they were fabulous. The way he did 'Conquistador', and all this material I really loved. A great drummer, Squeeky, who ended up playing with us for a while. And we'd all just go catch each other, that's what we'd do, ya go boom boom boom. I think what was happening then too was umm... ya look back on it, the heyday as it were. There were no soundmen, soundmen didn't exist, what the hell is this? Ya got an amp and a knob. I mean what's this, ya got a... I always scratch my head at that one. Or roadies, who the fuck needs a roadie? I mean, I still carry my own shit. I'm 62 years old, I carry my own pian– I mean come on, what is this shit? Unless you've got tons of shit. But, umm, there'd be no soundmen, none of this shit, nothing particularly fancy. And people would just... it was more like a, I was trying to say before, it looks like the good old days. And in several ways, it really was, in the heyday shall we say. But those actually, Brandon, were very... times of turmoil in the country. It came around, in the '60s and '70s there was segregation, major...
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BC: Did it feel like the scene was very racially mixed?
SP: We all were. Yah, oh absolutely, we were cool as hell with that shit. Ya, absolutely, no problem there at all. But there was umm the women's lib thing was busting through, the Vietnam war was going on, again Segregation was, there were riots all over the place – riots on LA, riots on every, one summer, riots all over the country. And it was all these, civil rights was a huge issue. And people were being fucked over, and they didn't like it. So there was a kind of a togetherness that... when you look at the old Woodstock stuff, the youth at that time, as much as I think today, had damn good reason to be pissed off. It was like “question authority”, well youth is naturally gonna question authority anyway, as well it should. And at that time, it was really ;questioning authority, cause what the fuck is shit shit, Kent State? The national guard killing people on a freakin campus, what the fuck is that? I mean, it was huge. And there was all these demonstrations all over the country over all this shit, and...
BC: Did a lot of this political stuff, could you feel it kind of moving into the music, or was...
SP: Absolutely. There was a big difference between Elvis Presley, whom I have total respect for, and Crosby Stills Nash and Young and many many many others who sang of the issues at hand.
BC: And like specifically in the Providence scene, was it... I mean, it was talked about, politics were very prevalent?
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SP: Oh yah, there were many of these underground... I don't even know the names of them, not clubs but underground newspapers that were always free, but always anti government and anti this and anti that. It was a movement that people, most people jumped on. And musically, it carried through. And you got people like Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, I mean all the folk singers. They jumped all over that shit. And folk was big then, that's when, Folk goes in, it all goes in and out – it all enjoys its stay, and then boom, something else comes in. But folk singers then were as big as rock and roll.
BC: Was there much of a folk scene in Providence?
SP: Very much. There were coffee houses, oh yah, there were a lot of... there was Tatertate, there was the Mouthpiece, Stone Soup which I guess is still going... the Mouthpiece was the big one, that carried a lot of people. There were a lot of these old coffeehouses in church basements, ya know? And people would go into church basements and play their songs of protest and shit, and of course drink vast amounts of wine in the process, and take their breaks and go out and smoke vast amounts of pot and then go back in and be pissed off at the war. But it made sense, it made social sense. And it was important. I don't see that as fervent today, but I know these bands are out there that give a shit, I know there's... I have tapes of bands that do this kind of material, but it sure isn't Janet Jackson kind of stuff, that's ya know...
BC: Do you specifically remember some of the clubs you guys played at? Like I know, Steve [Parisi] mentioned in Pawtucket when The Edge burned down and some events like that, do you remember anything about that?
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SP: Umm, I remember when it burned down. We played a different, we, like The Edge was more... that was a rock club, so Steve would be in there more and other bands would play there more. We played there once, but we did more blues and more bluesier stuff and r&b and stuff. We weren't a rock band at that time – we slowly turned into one, but we played other, we would play the off nights of a lot of... we played Wednesday nights at this place called Gulliver's which was, people knew what we were doing so they would come. And people wanted to hear rock and roll, they would go here Steve on the weekends and stuff. So everybody had their little niche, but nobody got in each other's way. We all pretty much played the same clubs, but the rock guys would, rock bands would pretty much have their own thing. And we would play offnights. And like Bovie's, every Tuesday would be the blues band but every weekend they'd go completely rock and roll, that's where Steve and all these other bands would play.
BC: What happened as the band evolved, like into the later '70s and '80s... how long were you with Tombstone?
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MT: That scares me, cause I played with Kenny more on than off umm... for about 30 years. And that's, that's a long time. I mean, he fired me so many times and I quit so many times that neither one of us payed any attention to it anymore. He goes “Mark, you're Fired. Fuck you.” And I go, fine, that's alright. I'd just go to the gigs the next night anyway, it didn't make any difference. And if I quit he wouldn't pay any attention to that shit. It got to be just part of the deal. But it's just, one of the things is that he would hire and fire a lot of people, and that could be difficult. Cause you'd get used to one guitar player, then he'd be gone and here come's somebody else... But it definitely got away from the blues and went into the rock and roll. I myself wasn't crazy about that, I liked it better with blues cause i was more of a bluesy kind of guy. As much as I enjoy rock and roll, I wasn't, I was never at that time... even now I don't consider myself a rock player ya know, like Steve and those guys – they were rock, and they were great at it. But I just couldn't do it, I didn't have that kind of energy and shit happening. So with Tombstone, I would compare them to the Woody Herman band, a big band cause it, they would call it a various “herd”... there were different “herds”, and the band stuck around a long time, but it would change. A whole new batch of players would come in, it would still be the Woody Herman band, but and then they left for a while and then things would get screwed up as they almost always do, you know, a bunch of musicians, who's kidding... so they would have what was called a bunch of herds to his band. It's like that, Tombstone, there were probably like 3 or 4, maybe 5 Tombstones. Umm, I played in all – I missed a few gigs when I was fired, but I was pretty much there for most of the stuff. And you could see the musical change in a way, but it was...
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MT: it was a very interesting venture because we ended up doing shit we never thought we'd do. I never thought I'd be standing on the stage looking out to 40,000 people. I mean holy shit, what an awesome thing that is to have happen to you. Ya know, flying around on airplanes... but we did have some wonderful, for the most part wonderful experiences. When you're a musician, you meet up with a lot of people. You just meet people, you meet other musicians but you meet other people too, and it's just... it's wonderful, there's a lot of wonderful people out there. And we had wonderful opportunities to open in front of some, ya know, pretty big name bands. And umm, that was a great opportunity, holy shit, this is pretty cool; opening up for Janis Joplin, and other various people. I was like, “Wow. Holy shit.” Cause they usually the people, they didn't give a fuck about us, they came to hear us. But it was great experience, go out there and play in front of a crowd like that, and occasionally get to talk to some of these people. So it was... and recording, I never thought I'd be in a recording studio in my life. That was like, to have a record then was huge! I mean fucking huge. Like now it's, you can make your own record, that's what people do – they've goat the dat machine or the disc machine or whatever the fuck it is. And you can put one in your own living room, and that's perfect that's fine. But that shit, again, that technology wasn't around then, and you had to get a record deal, and we ended up on Columbia which was a big company, probably still is. That was a big freakin deal, people worked really hard to get a record company and we did end up on one, through Kenny's old producers. So there was benefits from that, you could get more gigs; they would use that to book ya, the club owners were “Well, we've got Kenny Lyons from Tombstone on Columbia Records” blah blah blah, all that crazy horseshit. But it would get ya gigs, it would get you airplay on the radio. We were, at one point we were a very popular band locally, we got local, a lot of local airplay and all that kind of shit which didn't hurt the cause at all.
BC: Could you feel the umm, the scene change as the antiwar movements died down and the nation died into the 70's?
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MT: Yes, definitely. And it, it really changed. I remember seeing a movie about Charlie Parker, a great jazz guy, and he was very popular in New York. And then he went to Europe and he played over there, and then he came back here to play ya know Birdland or wherever it was, I think it was Birdland in New York... or one of those... anyway, and ya know, the same guy was working the door but they had somebody else playing there, some guitar player like Chuck Berry or something ya know? And Charlie Parker said “Wait a minute, what the fuck is this? Wait a minute, what became of this freakin place”, but it changed. And the doorman says to Charlie, “Hey Charlie, you know the way it is, things come and go, ya gotta stay on top man.” And was the story went, he did something to one of the guy's guitar's or something, he got really pissed. So it really did, ya, of course there's a shift, there's gonna – it's supposed to change. But it went from where we were into disco? What a slap in the freaking face that was. Fuck sakes! I mean, and all of their Djs were coming up, screw bands. I mean, there were disco bands that played but there weren't many of those either cause all of the sudden they didn't need a band, they were, these disc jockeys that stood up there and played records.
BC: Where did you guys continue to find gigs and places to play when that kind of swept through?
MT: The old places stuck true. Like Bovie's was still a place to play, the Bonview Inn in southern Rhode Island we always stuck there, the Narragansett Cafe was always a place to play and still is, and never had a cover then still doesn't have a cover now – nothing changed. So I mean there'd still be these, the old tried and true would hang on to us. These new clubs that were opening up would go with the newer stuff because ya know, because they didn't want to hear about blues because blues like folk music and everything else goes in and out. Ya know, it's popular and then it just ain't. The next big thing is gonna come along and take off. Like the Beatles, when the Beatles came out, they put a lot of people's careers to rest. People who were really talented all the sudden didn't have a job anymore because everything was the freakin Beatles, ya know? They put a lot of people out of work, but that's just the way it is. So I mean, everything does come and go but, we, the band was popular enough locally, it still kept surviving quite well. And we weren't out 6 nights a week anymore either, or 5 nights a week, we'd be out 1 night a week maybe 2 nights a week. Ya know, it wouldn't be a big... I mean everybody had day jobs or people would be in college and all this shit, so we weren't as dependent on it.
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BC: When did you begin to branch out into other medium, like with your art and...?
MT: Umm... well, the art started happening, the date totally screws me up, but I've always been interested and I got started messing around in finding junk and working on it... that would be in the 80s I think, I was living in Rehoboth. The early 80s, and I just, I was out in the back of, I had rented this small apartment in an old farm. And there was rust everywhere, old rusted shovelheads and rakes and hos and chains and all kinds of groovy, I just loved it, I mean, this was really neat shit. And I would drag it all back into the house and fuck around with it, and start, just started building stuff, there was a certain fascination for it. But also, with the music, I did the blues, but I was always interested in, and still am, in all kinds of music. And I, I started getting like a little repertoire of songs other than blues that I could play, because when you're a solo piano player you can do that. You can go out and just get a gig all by yourself if you're lucky enough. I mean, I don't sing, so I had to really try to make it sound good cause you know you're not gonna sound like a band, but... and I've done a lot of that kind of work. So to me, it would be the best of both worlds, cause you could play with a band the shit you wouldn't do alone, it'd be more fun playing with a band cause there's bass players and drummers and all this kind of shit. Ya know, there'd be more energy and more people'd come. But then, when you play alone it's a whole different thing, it's much more mellow it's laid back, and you could do all of the shit that you wanted to do that you couldn't do with a band.
BC: Here just a sec, the battery's dying here, I'm going to switch them out real fast... So where did you uhh, where did you display most of your artistic pieces?
[00:32:47]
MT: Umm, I've had a couple of shows, umm... usually they sit right where you see them. They're right there in the hallway in that freakin parking lot out there. Sometimes I've had them downstairs, the owner of the building likes them, and if there's space not rented downstairs he says “Mark, if ya want, you can put your stuff downstairs and uhh, though if somebody rents it you gotta get the hell out of there, but I won't charge you while it's there. But people like it, so put it downstairs” I says, ok. Right now downstairs is all rented, so I've brought it all up here, so... it gets around here and there, but it's usually hanging out up here. But I do have, occasionally there's a show. Which is cool, we get it all together and send out a bunch of invitations and ya know.
BC: Where do you do the shows?
MT: I've had one, I was with PO Gallery for a while, and another place, in fact I was in there for quite a while... oh and then Moses Brown there was a show, a small one. Umm, this green thing [gesturing to a piece in the corner] was in the Providence library for a while, sitting next to a guy's desk, right? And I'd drive by and there it was. And then oh, well I noticed, I was driving by and the light was turned off. It'd still be sitting there, it was an open window, but it was turned off. I thought, weird, why don't they turn the freakin thing on? Well I've come to find out, the guy that worked there, right next to it – it was making him want to take a piss all the time, hearin all the bubbles and the bubbly bubbly water, “I can't take the freakin thing. You've gotta shut the freakin, I'm in the bathroom half the day because of that!” I thought that was kinda cool. [laughter] But ya know, they go here and there, you never know. Somebody will come up and want one for this or for that. I'm workin on a show where they're all gonna tie together. They're kinda, gonna make a storyline out of all of them, they all have a particular chapter and they all relate to each other, so they all have their own chapter of their own to a story that I'm working on.
[00:35:01]
BC: What umm, what motivates these found art pieces? Do they just kind of come to you in a dream, or...?
MT: Yah, I just.. kind of, yah, you just get a picture. I just get these ideas ya know, that, holy shit this would work or that would work. I just get all this stuff up here. You get the pieces of the puzzle together, you get the pieces together, and then I just start getting ideas for... just by experimenting. [points again toward piece in the corner] That's called 'The Moonwalker'. And, ya start thinking as you're building this shit, those things are wine bottles there, and there's umm brakes on there from a wheelchair and a toilet paper holder, and... it was an exercise bike... I think those are 1959 Ford taillights I believe... And all this shit just starts coming together. But you start tripping out on it, you start making up your own stories. Like with this thing, you don't want to use it on a beach cause it digs its way right into the freakin sand, it's terrible on tar, you'll snap off one of those shoes [pointing to shoes affixed to the wheels of the piece], but it's good on grass. Like a regular lawn? It's fabulous, it'll truck right along, truck-truck-truck-truck-truck; makes a wicked noise, like clickeda-bligala-dagela-dagela-dagela-dagela-dagela-dagela-dagela ya know. But ya know, it's cool, but you come up with these different ideas for them; to me it's just enjoyable.
BC: What's the show turnout like at these places? Do a lot of the people from the old scene come to these...?
MT: Oh yah, they do. Umm... it's funny cause there's some people that know me by my music, there's other people that know me by the artwork. And it's really kind of funny cause they say “well I didn't know you did this” or “I didn't know you did that”. And I'm always a little taken aback; cause I didn't know I did either fuckin one of them. And it's, ya know, well... it's schizy as all hell, but it's kind of good because I, I mean I'll be working on the music here, I'll be working on a tune. It'll just drive me freakin crazy; I can only go so long and then it's just driving me up a freakin wall. I take a break and work on a piece of artwork, it just really kind of calms me right down. Deal with that for while until you get to one little point there it starts driving you crazy... shit, how am I gonna drill holes through this to get that through there so that this... ya know, I don't do any drawings, it's all in my brain, how the freak am I gonna do that..? And then fuck it, it's time to go back to the music. And when you go back to the music, you're fresh. So I mean to me, it's very helpful, and you can balance things off. I mean, I don't want to play music all day.
[00:38:06]
BC: And all of your materials are just found around on the street?
MT: Yah, all except um, anything electrical – I replace the wiring because you don't want to screw with that, you don't want a fire but... ya, it's all found shit for the most part. I mean, sometimes there's some stuff out of the salvation army, but most of it's found shit. People throw it in dumpsters or leave it on the side of the street or throw it off an embankment somewhere; people throw away the most incredible shit, it's amazing. This place it filled with stuff people have just thrown out, ya know? These guys, it's disgusting to throw that shit away. To me it's just wasteful.
BC: And you continue to play, right?
MT: Oh, absolutely.
BC: Where?
MT: I work at a place called the High Hat on Monday nights... now this is a busy month for me, and I work there on Monday nights and then there's this club called Shakers out in North Attleborough, I work there Thursday Friday and Saturday nights; in fact, I'm working Sunday afternoon also cause of mother's day. Every Wednesday night I play with a band called Loaded Dice, and that's over in East Providence. And that's a swing band, all these swing dancers come and show up and play and dance. Which is fabulous, they have a great time, and you meet all these cool people. And then I go out and do this solo stuff. It blows my mind, cause like there's 31 nights in may- I'm workin 25 of those 31 nights. Come on! That's more work now than we were workin when I was a freakin kid. I mean, holy shit. I mean, you're out almost every freakin night now. And I'm, I'm glad to do it, I'm glad that I can keep doing it. The more you do, the more you can do.
[00:40:02]
BC: Do you still see a lot of the same people around?
MT: Not as much as you might think. People get married, have families, they really fucking piss me off because – not that they get married and have families, but they don't go out anymore. And I can see that cause they work all freakin day, they're tired, they want to spend time with their families, that's cool. But a lot of them become these freaking couch potatoes. That goes up my ass a mile, because they're watching fucking dumbass television, which I will have nothing to do with. I mean, I own one, but I don't even think the fuckin thing's plugged in, I haven't watched it in years. Of American Idol and all this crap, it's just freaking crap on there. And they watch their, they come home from work and they watch their shows. I guess that's their business and their prerogative, but – there's live music out there. But it really pisses me off for somebody in their 40s to say “Oh, I'm too old, I'm too tired”. Well I'm 62, I want to slap them upside the freakin head, what the fuck are they talking about? They're too old? What is that? I mean, when you're in you're 90s you can say you've got some mileage in your freakin clutch, but certainly not in your 40s. Well, but that's what they do, a lot of them do. They just fall into these routines, and they don't go out anymore. Period. It's weird. I do see some, but not many. Very few... will come out to a gig.
BC: How would you say the scene feels different today than it did back when you were just starting to play around?
MT: You mean band, talking bands?
BC: Yeah
MT: Uh... it's very different.
BC: And like the clubs you go to... I mean, does Bovie's still feel like it's the same Bovies?
[00:42:00]
MT: Yes, Bovie's is an exception. Bovie's has hung on to it's original thing, and I think it's just one of these clubs that always will and I don't even think it tries to do it. Bovie's originally was a very famous jazz house on the east coast of the country. Big names, Dizzy Gillespie, I mean big names have played at Bovies. His father, big John Bovie when he owned it, he brought in the big stuff. That's when I was playing there, I knew John Bovie's dad, and then I was just a kid playing in there I was just 15, 16 years old. That, Bovie's will always be Bovies. But what's interesting, one of the things that's interesting I find in music today – back then, again I refer to Steve a lot, there were the Wailin Banshees, there was a band called the Rain, oh there were tons of them. There were just tons of bands. Loaded Dice was back in those days too, they've been around a long time... Blue lights... just several, but there were bands. And by the most part, ya know, bands really stuck together, there wasn't a lot of traffic so to speak. That was your group, that was your nucleus, and that's how you'd travel and that's how you knew each other and that's how you became such close friends – or enemies, whatever the case may be, whoever's hittin on who's girlfriend, that would always cause a freakin stir, that's for sure – but I don't see many bands today that you'd call a band, that you, you and you.
[00:42:00]
MT: Now, I mean, maybe I'm off, I am off the scene of what people in their 20s are doing. I'm sure, hopefully they have that same quality, but what I see a lot of is some people get a gig and just call a few people up. “Let's see, who can I get for a bass player, who can I get for a guitar player, who can I get for...” ya know, they go in, they do the gig, get paid and drive home and they're all happy with that. But it's never, it's not a band. And I think some of that's got to do with the clubs, what kind of clubs they are. Especially singers, cause I've worked for a few of them, depending on what club they're working in the owner might say “I want a 5 piece band, I want a 4 piece band” or “can you come in with just 2 people?” And she'll say “Sure, whatever ya want. I'll get whatever you want.” And that's what happens, so you get called to do these larger things or these really smaller things, but... I really, it's changed a lot in that world. The only one I can think of now is a group called umm, Dave Howard and the High Rollers, which has been around all this time – they're a freakin band, I mean, they've just stuck it through. They've had a few changes here and there, but it's... ya know, they... it's like the freakin Red Sox, you have no idea who's gonna be on the freakin team every year. They, these ball, these baseball clubs, I don't know how the freak they do it. And especially when they jump ship, and now you have a Yankee playing for the Red Sox, or the Sox are playing for the Yankees. Why the fuck can't you just stay on the same fucking team? Ya, I know, more money, blah blah blah. But come on, I mean, how many millions of dollars can you possible freaking spend anyway? Whether you make 3 more lousy freakin million dollars, doesn't staying with the nucleus of your team mean anything at all? But I dunno, that's just my own pet peeve...
[00:46:16]
BC: Do you remember any influence or interaction with some of the other art movements in Providence, like with the rise of AS220 or instance, or any of those other kind of big scenes, or Fort Thunder...
MT: I would have to say no. Because I'm, in the art world in that section, I don't... I'm pretty much a loner in that situation, I'm not in the... I mean, I know the AS220 people, I know Burt [Crenca] and ya know, great guy and all that shit, and I've never had a show there or anything, I don't really hang there. I've gone down to catch a few things that are going on down there cause he does have galleries that ya know, when showing if I know somebody I'll go down and catch it. But I don't, I don't hang around the artsy fartsy type very much, it's just not my schtick, so I mean, I don't know what's going on.
BC: And with RISD?
MT: No, not at all. I don't know, I don't know what they do. I sat for them last week. They asked me to bring my piano in and play the piano while they sat and drew me. That's about as close as I get to a fuckin art world. That was cool, I sat there and played Pink Floyd. [laughter] I love it. They probably just think I'm whacked out, which is probably some truth. I don't understand, one of the interesting things – this is just another thing it all sounds really serious but it's stuff that I think about – is with the Woodstock generation and all that kind of shit, everything was, people were into sharing shit and... they weren't monetarily driven that much at all. Communes were common. But to think now, that that generation is now the ones that are in power, and see the freaking shit that they're putting out for television shows... I mean, this is my freakin generation, I'm embarrassed that they, how could they turn into such materialistic assholes and put out these crapass movies? Nah, I mean, I'm being unfair probably, not all of them are crapass. But I bet ya a ton of it is, all these television shows, all these news programs are not news programs at all, it's just sensationalist crap. Why is every female newscaster beautiful? What the fuck is that? How did that, I mean, why can't a plain ordinary looking person... but the only time I see television is if I'm in a club, they leave 'em on. As long as the turn the sound down, I don't give a shit, have the ball game going on up there. But you see what's going on ya know, cause there's adds for what else is going on for, “Tune in Friday night for...”, Oh please. I don't, it just, they went.. this yuppie thing, and everybody's entitled to that, but all these values that they had way back then, what happened to that? They went out the freaking window. All of the sudden, let's just make a buck, fuck everybody, and take it from here. And I go, Wow, is this the same guy I smoked a joint with in the stands of a festival in freakin Pawtucket, talkin about Bob Dylan and how cool he was...? And all of the sudden you're one of them? You asshole.
[00:50:13]
BC: Did you go out to Pawtucket often, or... was most of the scene you were involved in kind of concentrated within Providence, or did you travel around in the surrounding area a lot?
MT: We, we traveled, I don't even mention if I tell you, they would have these Sun Fests. And Sun Fests were held outside, and bands would be hired to play on the back of a flatbed trailer truck. And everybody would come get stoned on their asses and wear tiedye shirts and skirts and all that kind of shit and just have a wonderful freaking time, and they would call them Sun Fests. And by most–
BC: Would these just be held in private fields?
MT: Some were in private, some were in public. Like, slater park would have some of this kind of shit in Pawtucket. Umm... College Campuses, one of the biggest ones was the woods of Dartmouth college campus. There's thousands of people down there. There were so many people that ya know, there would be police but they wouldn't bother anybody, they knew what the hell was going on, as long as you didn't blow it in their face, they wouldn't get – they knew everybody was getting stoned, what were they gonna do, bust 40,000 freakin people? Ya know, everybody was cool then, it wasn't this crazy shit at all. I've never seen people get really into a real fisticuffs over a joint as opposed to drinking a quart of gin together, and next thing ya know, the monster lies close beneath the surface, and somebody says the wrong thing or looks at the girl the wrong way and holy shit a fight broke out – that wouldn't happen on smoking hash.
[00:52:09]
MT: But that was a different scene. But there was, this whole area, all of Rhode Island, probably the whole country cause there would be Sun Fests up in Boston area, up in New Hampshire, Vermont, southern Rhode Island there's a place in Southern Rhode Island, there's a ranch I can't think of it... oh damn, it's still open today but they have country music I mean they're mostly country. And that's what people would do, they'd come and hear a rock band, and ussually they'd be on their ass sitting in the back of a flatbed power truck. And ya'd have to have a power generator, and they'd have it out about 30 or 40 feet so you wouldn't hear it too bad. Course, the sound of the band would just kill that anyway, holy shit, they were loud. But that would be all over the place. Everybody would go to them. And I think, there's a funny thing that happened – when that seemed to dwindle out, the only group that really held onto that image was the Grateful Dead, cause people would just follow the Grateful Dead no matter where the hell they went. Still with their tiedye shirts and all that shit, and smoking pot behind the band bus. But the rest of the people didn't do that, it dwindled and something. When it went disco, it just blew my mind. I mean, you could walk around, people would be as grungy as ever; noone gave a shit what anybody wore. But then when it went disco, everybody's dressed up. Fuckin guys running with those suits, I don't know what they call them, terrible of a fucking thing... and the girls would be wearing high heels and dresses and shit. And I thought, when the fuck did this start? That's going out? But another generation came up. Move over Mark, the world changes, take your fucking blues piano and go home and shut the fuck up. Go back to the Barnview Inn on a Wednesday night, you'll be fine. Ya know, it changed again as it had several times before, always continues to do so.
[00:54:34]
MT: So it does change a lot, but I think hopefully it's still, young people are out having fun. And I was thinking about it too earlier, because when I look back, ya know, I would say well I like the music of that particular generation when I was younger. But my mother and father said the same thing about their generation, and I'm sure their mother and father said the same, “Oh there was nothing like the roaring 20s, those were the best of days! With dixieland music and speak easies and everybody doing the Charleston, and oh it was just freaking fabulous man, those were...” Well ya know what, it's true to the music form, but those weren't easy days either, that was World War One, there was the depression. I mean, each, all of these times have had their tough freakin time. And then the next group would say, “Oh well, there's the big band out of the 40s, that's when it was really happening, that's when, that was much much better” and other people would say “No, the 50s or 60s.” So I mean, everybody gets their heyday. Ya know, enjoy it while it's there cause it's gonna freakin change. What's interesting, I have a 15 year old son and he and many of his friends listen to the music that was going on in my day. I find that very interesting. He wants to hear, and I've opened up for bands that he loved of course he thinks that's fabulous, but he wants to know about Queen and he's into Aerosmith and Led Zeplin and all these bands that were very popular when I was younger. And that's what they want to hear. A lot of them don't want this music of their own generation – some of them do obviously, because there's a business in it.
[00:56:37]
But I think it seems shallow... I'm convinced that you're not seeing the best stuff from your own generation because the freaking record companies won't touch it. I'm convinced of that, you can't tell me there aren't young talented writers out there and young incredible freaking bands. I know there are, cause I've heard some of them. They're out there, they're just not getting the airplay, they're not getting the gigs because they're not packing the clubs. And right now it's money money money money money. “We gotta sell this, we gotta promote that, nah we don't want that band, we're gonna go with her cause she's so dynamite looking. Let's push her, she'll pack the clubs.” Ya know, and that's weird. So I'm just, I dunno where the good bands are but I'm sure they're out there. Talent doesn't stop at a generation, or ability... ya know, they're out there. It's just weird that there's probably way more of an underground scene than I'm aware of. There's gotta be one, I'm sure of it.
BC: Well thanks a lot, I really appreciate your time.
MT: You mean the interview's over? You don't, you don't fuckin wanna hear... [begins to laugh]
BC: We can certainly keep going if you want to.
MT: How about, how about the time... no, fuck you. That's the way you want it? Nah, I'm just kidding you.
[00:58:03]
BC: Ok. Well do you have anything else you want to talk about, cause we certainly can?
MT: No, not really, I hope you got something.
BC: Yah, we got plenty, we got more than an hour I think of great material.
MT: Alright, ok.
BC: Ok?
MT: Yah. I guess I, to me it was rather philosophical, but that's all I could think of.
BC: It's not a problem at all, it's definitely all very interesting.
MT: Alright, good. Well that's good, Brandon.
[00:58:30]
[end of interview]