[00:00:00]
Brandon Cook: Ok, it should be going right now.
Steven Parisi: You need me to talk?
BC: Yah, that sounds perfect.
SP: Alright. my voice carries.
BC: Yah, it seems to. [laughter] Um, Alright, can you just say your name and place of birth?
SP: Yeah, my name's Steven Parisi, I was born in Providence in 1947. February 26th, legitimate Pisces.
BC: And your parents...?
SP: Uhh, my father's of Sicilian heritage, first generation American though; and my mother was French.
BC: Did they meet in Providence, or...
SP: They met uhh, yes, in Providence after the war. My father was in the army in World War II, and my mother was in the Coast Guard.
BC: So can you just talk a little bit about your childhood growing up in Providence?
SP: Yeah, I grew up in Providence, uhh.. In fact, not far from where we're having this interview. And lived there for ten years. And then we moved to Rehoboth Massachusetts, where I went to high school. I went to actually junior high school and high school in Rehoboth, graduated in '64. Great place to grow up; I mean, everybody that tried to get out of there is now paying a half a million dollars at least for a house to move back there, because it's yuppie city. That's what it's become, it's become the place to go to, it's... there's no industry there, so it's just nice. It's countrified, I grew up on 80 acres of land. It was good, it was healthy. In fact, in later years when we had the bands, we used to rehearse in one of the buildings on my dad's property. It was a milk house that we converted to a studio. And I graduated in '64, went into construction in '65, uhm... '64 actually as soon as I got out of school I went into construction. Spent about a year doing that and um, oh I guess it was early '66 a friend of mine came knockin on the door said, and I had played a little guitar in school but never with anybody, and asked if I wanted to join a band as a rhythm guitarist. And I said, that sounds like an interesting idea, so...
[00:02:07]
BC: Now where did you pick up guitar?
SP: Umm, I took some lessons. My father played, and he had me take some lessons when I was about 7 years old. Sadly nothing stuck, umm... I still only know about 14 chords. But as a singer now, when is what I ended up being, that's really all you need. But I started out as a rhythm guitarist, and they said “Well why don't you try singing a song, everybody's trying to sing”. I could carry a tune, which automatically shot me right to the front of the group. And umm, I lasted with that group for about 6 months and uhh, some friends that had a pretty successful group in school came and approached me to be the lead singer for a group which became The Banshees. Which was uhh, a group that I headed up from 66 to the early 70s. And you know, some musician changes, as always it's a transient thing, but some good people. Some really good people, and we just kept getting better and better. Through a tip from a friend of mine we did an audition at a club in Pawtucket which was known as The Edge, which at the time was becoming the hottest spot in the state – Friday nights the line was probably 200 people outside waiting to get in. And we did an audition on a Tuesday, and they said “We'll get in touch with you”. They used to have a different band every night. About a month later they had someone call in sick, we came in and filled in; the band called in sick again 3 days later, we filled in. And the week after that we wound up, he canceled everybody else and we were the house band for a year and a half at The Edge. And that launched a club career, umm and from there... the place burned down twice while we worked there, lost all our equipment twice. And it was not ow ner initiated fires, I will add, the place was doing incredible business, incredible business you know. Groups would fall all over themselves to go there, because you were playing to a packed house every night. And we built a pretty good following up from that, and from there we started going on the road and we played from Bangor Maine to the Cape. Played at the Lanton's Floor in Bangor, where supposedly Stephen King used to go in. And I wrote him a letter... and sent uh, I have an original copy of The Shining which uhh, I wrote him a letter and mentioned the place 'cause I understand he knows the owner – which is Don Sikes, at the Lanton's Floor. Cause Stephen King plays guitar, I dunno if you knew that but he does, he had a group of himself and some authors and editors. And I missed them, they played in Providence one year, I was heartbroken I didn't get to see them! And so I wrote the letter, and mentioned the place the music, and I finished up the letter “Ain't Rock 'n Roll Great”. Now, he's noted you know for reading the letters people send him. And I got the book back, “To Steven Parisi from Stephen King, keep on rocking keep on shining.” It's one of my prized possessions to this day. What I'm gonna do, now with the cd that I made which, that cd's about a year and a half old, is I'm gonna autograph a copy and send it to him. Kind of a tit for tat thing. But he does read everything you send him, so I was pretty impressed with that.
[00:05:20]
So I guess we played there, there were places in Vermont, we played a couple of great ski lodges – there was one called the Blue Tooth, which still exists to this day. And then um, we hit Boston. And Boston was just a great place to play, it's umm... Well, let's see, where did we play... the Improper Bostonian, a place called Katy's, the Kenmore Club, there were quite a few others too. And there were quite a few in the Providence area Brandon, besides The Edge. The Edge kinda... it caused, a lot of clubs sprouted after that, I mean, the 60s was a great place. It was all live music, disco hadn't ruined the era yet. Umm, and we played places in Rhode Island, we opened some clubs, places like The Frathouse, Courtney's, great places in Newport where people like, I met Waddie Wadel, who is still very prominent in the music industry in California. And he had a group out here, they were The Orphans, originally from New York. And then he formed a group called Twice Nicely, which was almost a Jefferson Airplane clone, only I think with his talent may have been better, but they had the chick with the long hair in the front. And he was one of these people, what do you want him to play, guitar, horn, drums. Phenomenal guitarist, makes about, I've heard he makes about three quarters of a million a year out on the West coast, he's been on tour with Linda Ronstadt, he's been on tour with Stevie Nicks. So I had the pleasure of meeting him and knowing him. And there were a bunch of clubs in Newport at the time, Frenchie's backroom which was just a hot shit place to play, The Seven Seas, and a few places like that. Rhode Island- The Edge was great, and there was one place that, in my opinion, was probably one of my favorite places which was called Bovie's on the East side. We played for a little less at Bovie's, but people like Ken Lions with Tombstone were there with Mark Tabor, Bobby Mason, some great musicians. And Bovie's, you played for a little less, but you played what you wanted as loud as you wanted and for as long as you wanted until closing. So we could, we could alter... where as a club group trying to do original stuff- the East coast was not as receptive as the West coast ya know, where say the Doors were out doing nothing but their own thing. If you came out here and did nothing but original tunes, you might have about 6 people in the goddamn club and that was it, so you know you'd intersperse a few. Umm, and what we ended up doing was going more with our own arrangements of other people's things. We had a kick ass version of “Conquistador”, by Procol Harum who does about a 9 minute version? We had that about 4 years before they did it. You know, they had a short version, and we had rearranged it, and we got into that. Take, whatever the influence was, Neil Young, Buffalo Springfield, you know: This is their top 40 tune, what's on the album? Let's play that, and that's the kind of thing that we got into. But we could go into Bovie's and do stuff by Lou Reed with the Velvet Underground, people, they just loved whatever the hell ya did, so...
[00:08:33]
BC: Now how did Providence feel in reference to the other cities you played in? Like, was providence at all different in terms of reception to original material and stuff?
SP: Uhh, I think Boston got, was a little more receptive. Because they did have what they called the umm... aww, there was some kind of a revival, this was way before Aerosmith, they had groups called The Ultimate Spinich, Orpheus who had a national hit called um “Can't Find the Time to Tell You”, and there was another group that was more kind of in the Aerosmith vein called The Beacon Street Union. Um, it ran for a short time... Bovie's would be one of the few places you could get away with some original material. Like I said, it took a while to, you had to kind of weave it in with everything else you were doing. And there were certain people that would come that would really appreciate it, and there's other people that, you know, they wanted to hear something by Steppenwolf or The Doors or Jimmy Hendrix or Procol, and we did all that stuff. You know, we played all that stuff. And I'd like to think that we played it very well. And this is, what do I say, how was, what is the term... with no false modesty, we had a damn good group. And, you know, we were very fortunate. Todd, who was the keyboard player from '69 to '71, went out to the west coast for 28 years, while he was there wrote “Wait for the Magic”, which was recorded by Al Jarreau. Which was a Grammy nominated tune. And Todd is the one who produces what I do now, so whenever we have arguments I always back off and say “I know. You're the one with the Grammy nomination.” [laughter] And he says “That's right.”
[00:10:22]
BC: Now what was the um, what was the scene like at these clubs in providence? Like, was it very racially diverse, or...
SP: Yah, I would say, pretty much I mean. . . there didn't seem to be a lot of racially motivated problems in the 60s and 70s ya know, cause I mean everybody really was there to put flowers in the guns and, ya know let's roll up a fatty, and that's what the scene was. Everybody, for the most part, everybody was just having a great time and everybody loved everybody, and I know it sounds corny, but it was. To me, there didn't seem – and I've never had, I was not raised with any racial lines. I'm very fortunate to have grown up in a household where I never heard the term Kike or Nigger or Spik, ya know? Nothing like that. And I owe that to my parents, and maybe where I grew up, I don't know. And I grew up with a lot of blacks, a lot of Portuguese people from the Azores, there was, it was never an issue. I think I would've been, had some heightened awareness of the fact if I saw something – never had a problem in the clubs that we played in. And I know other musicians where the bands like uhh... there was a band Mochachip, the lead singer was Sheeba, about a six foot black girl. And nobody would've had any problems with her – she was gorgeous, and she was talented. Needless to say, there were a few all black clubs. There used to be one on the East side that was called the uhh... they were the IBA, the Independent Black's Association. I had gone there a few times with a friend of mine who owned a club, and the lead singer there was the hot shit cause they'd always come over to the table with the microphone, and ya know. And they used to play at The Edge, where I played. So, the people I played for had no problems that I remember. I mean, granted, there are times I don't remember anything [laughter] we're past the statute of limitations, so we can go there.
[00:12:30]
Um, I don't remember it being an issue. Did I work, as a white rock and roll band, did I work at black clubs? Hell no. Ya know, who the hell wants you? We'd do some James Brown and a few things like that, but basically we're appealing to a specific audience. And rock and roll, even though I don't think that had any boundaries whatsoever, especially in the 60s and 70s. I mean the Beatles took this country by storm, I mean you read about it and you hear about it, and it's everything they said it was. I heard that, and I said “I want to be a singer” I wanna, you know, everybody wanted to be a musician. Christ this is great! Ya know? And to this day, people say “Well you know, The Stones are still around, The Stones did this, The Beatles were too clean...” They molded and changed, and you'll hear it a million times, they changed music forever. Forever, I mean, no limits to what you could do. The number of tracks you could lay down, the harmonies that you could do. You know, to this day, if you do the 10 albums you'd have if you were stuck on a desert island, The White Album and Sergent Pepper are gonna be there. But then I think about that, in retrospect, so would Rubber Soul, so would Revolver. Everything was so innovative at the time.
[00:13:50]
BC: Um, did you have any experience with the police or administration or anything like that when you were playing in clubs? How receptive was... more of the upper class of the community to the music scene?
SP: Well, with some of the areas you played in, needless to say you had to be cognizant of your surroundings, and uhh... There were times that we got visits. The Edge being one of them, and they insulated the ceilings, they tried everything. And still the neighbors would complain, and there were some issues you know – people driving across their lawns, doing a lot of other things on their lawn at times. And you know, in the cases of a few clubs that I remember, the Frathouse, The Edge... Bovies seemed to be, pretty much nobody gave a damn in that area, you could play as loud as you wanted. But the other places, yah, we would get visits. Definitely get visits from the cops. And I mean, it was basically “Turn it down”. And the old joke was when the cop is yelling “Turn it down” you says “I can't hear you, the band's too loud.”
[00:15:00]
BC: How do you see the scene having evolved from that point forward? Like up into the later '70s and '80s and stuff?
SP: Well, let's see, ya figure we hit disco about the mid '70s? And I was crushed. I mean, it changed everything. What do I think of Donna Summer? She's fantastic, she's the disco queen, I mean I loved her stuff. Ya know, I like some of Abba's stuff. But it just totally took the rock and roll revolution as it were, even the Blues revolution. Look at the people that are doing it now, they're all holdovers from the '60s, the Allman Brothers, anybody like that. I mean, it's just uhh... It just sent it off on a totally different spin right into Saturday Night Fever and everything else was done. Very few people remember the Beegees, other than what they sound like – the signing mice. The Beegees in the '60s and '70s had some of the most beautiful music you'd ever hear. They'd rival the Beatles with harmonies, fantastic. I'm sure you probably've never heard any of 'em?
BC: Not really
SP: The first album, which is called Cucumber Castle, and it's got the psychedelic lettering, the harmonies, the music, it was great it was good rock and roll. Granted, they said “Look, we're not going anywhere with this, at this point”. They did their version of Sergent Pepper, which was called Odessa – which was a beautiful album, the harmonies were interwoven, the music... They used fulled orchestration in all theirs, way before a lot of people did. And I got to see them live in Providence one year and they really were good. But let's say they saw the writing on the wall and when people talk about maybe, ya know “What was the greatest disco song?” Blaming it all in the nights on Broadway? They formed, reformed that. To me, it was like the big chill. I really just... [laughter] I started to, to pull into a shell and started saying, “Where's that band I used to hear five years ago playing?”
[00:16:49]
BC: Could you see a difference in providence- like, what happened to Bovie's and a lot of these old rock clubs?
SP: Bovie's kind of still hung in, but the... not exactly the thrill is gone, but the crowds lessened. The Edge still kind of went with the times and they still had live bands, you know some of what they were playing was just not the same - not a lot of techno, but you know it was just more of a disco scene, and it really did take over. There was the emergence of some new clubs that were just on the fringe at the time, Pisces East I think was one of them that – you know, now you walked in and it was all electronic music instead of walking in and there being a live band there. Cause for a while, there were just a ton of clubs with live musicians. I mean, it supported the music industry very well... Bovie's, the Edge, the Frathouse, the Warehouse down at India Point, there were places called Chapter 11, the Scene... I mean, they sprouted up on every corner. A lot of those, when went things went disco, closed. A lot of them were just flashes in the pan anyway. You know, they'd have a two or three year run, and then it was over.
BC: Where any of them... were they concentrated in any particular area in the city, or where they all over the place?
SP: They were pretty well spread out. The edge, as hot a club as it was, was in Pawtucket – on Benefit St. in Pawtucket. And then, they also opened one of the next hottest clubs right across the street which became called January's. And at that point they would have two clubs running that were full, which was the envy of a lot of places. After about 76, 77 when you just weren't hearing as much rock in clubs, I stopped going to clubs. I really did, I'd like to think that I'm open minded; I am. But if I don't like something, it doesn't matter how open minded you are. If you don't like it, what the hell's the difference? It's for somebody. Ya know? Hip Hop is great too, but I'm not gonna sit and listen to it, it's not my thing. I still don't get it. I get it, but I don't... ya know, I've been to the opera, I enjoy the opera. Do I sit home and listen to Verde? No. No, I'm still playin old rock and roll albums. I'm not stuck in that time warp, I think that was some damn good music that just has never run its course. Which I think with the resurgence that you see now, of a lot of groups, I think Rock is making a comeback again. Which I'm happy to see.
[00:19:17]
BC: Where do you see the city today in terms of venues and such?
SP: Uhh... you know, to be honest with you, to come this time where I'm about 25 years out of it, 30 years out of it. I can't give you a lot of information, and I apologize for that. I uhh, you know occasionally I'll get out. My friend Mark Taber was playing with a 9 piece band about 4 or 5 months ago, I went – Bovie's, coincidentally. I went to Bovie's to hear him.
BC: Bovie's is still around?
SP: Bovie's is still around! Bovie's is still around. On April 23rd, for your own information from 5 to 9, Ken Lions and Tombstone, which was one of the innovative bands and... it was Tombstone Blues Band, but they kind of went back and forth. And Mark actually wanted them to take Blues out of the thing. But Mark Taber will be playing, Ken Lions, Al LoBello. These, again these are guys from '60s and '70s that I kept track of until around say maybe '75 or '76. You know, and then just uhh, like I said I just kind of faded out of the club scene. I will still go now and then, if somebody comes into town that I want to hear or if somebody says to me “Hey, let's go catch a group”. But, other than groups from that era, I'm not up to date on a lot of things. I really am. I never thought I'd get that way. It's like, you know, you turn into your parents. [laughter] I don't know, for better, or for worse, I'm not sure...
00:20:50]
BC: How um, how were your parents with your career in rock and roll, how supportive were they?
SP: Incredibly supportive. I mean, when I first started – cause the first thing you did, back then people were greasing their hair up. And the first thing I did was, washed it and let it down, did it look like yours. The old man... he was a little tough with that at first. And my mother just said “Steve. That's what their doing, let it go.” And we started rehearsing on my parent's property, and they let us do that. And my dad just really started to get into it. And I was working for him, and he really needed me at the time, and to give umm...
BC: Doing what work?
SP: Construction. Which is what I'm doing right now, restoration of old masonry buildings. It's a rewarding job, and we're doing waterproofing of new and commercial buildings. The business was small then, there were 3 people. And he was doing the work, and really counted on me. And when I first started playing at the edge, and we became the house band. I would work there, and then go to work for my dad at 6 in the morning. And somewhere in between we would find time to rehearse. And after the first year, that was a burn out. I wound up with pneumonia, almost went in the hospital, and I had to go see my dad and tell him “listen, Pop,” I said, “I can't do both. And I really want to do this.” And he said “You know, if I don't let you try it Steve, you're always gonna wonder. And your never gonna know. And I wouldn't do that to ya. And he couldn't have been more supportive. Bought me a new guitar. If our truck broke down to get to gigs, he had about 15 bands with the business – let us borrow a truck. And once a month, minimum, no matter where we were playing, him and my mother would come. And ma would come in with her list of stuff. One of her favorites, “I Am a Child” by Neil Young, or something. Ya know, this was great, “Can you sing 'Undone?'” and “What's that Door's tune...?” And I used to sing 19th Nervous Breakdown for her most of the time, cause we figured that's probably what I was in her life. And they would come to the Edge a lot. I mean, it, kinda of blow their head off... but they'd stay. I don't mean for 10 minutes, they'd stay for at least 2 hours. And listen, and they'd bring friends in. You couldn't ask for more support. I didn't realize till years later how loud it was where we were rehearsing, which was only about 100 ft from the house, and I say “How the hell did they put...” And we used to rehearse till about 11 or 12 o'clock at night - never said a word. We'd go through some changes in the band, maybe pick up a new keyboard player like when we first picked up Todd, we'd do an outdoor concert at my father's place. You know, in Rehoboth, you're in the country have this huge expanse of lawn, we'd set up the staging and everything, and we'd invite about 50 people to hear the new group. This was, every time we'd change we'd add a pretty good list of songs to our repertoire as to what we were gonna do.
[00:23:44]
BC: And this was out in Massachusetts was it?
SP: Yah, in Rehoboth. And that invariably resulted in two or three visits from the local constabulary. And this is in the middle of the day, with, “Well the people up at the top of the hill are bitchin, it's too loud!” Well ya know, for starters they can't say anything, it's the middle of the day. And why don't they just sit out on the steps and enjoy it, ya know? And I've got pictures somewhere of the cops pulling in of course. You know, you've gotta have that. We never had a lot of brushes like that though, and we did some interesting concerts. At the time for groups that were big names, we opened up for Eric Burdon and the Animals a few times, the Byrds, Mitch Rider and the Detroit Wheels who had some major hits in the '60s and '70s, Sam the Sham and the Pharohs of “Wooly Bully and Little Red Riding Hood” fame, the Kingsmen of Louie Louie.
BC: Where these all um in Providence, or were they all over the East coast?
SP: They were umm, a couple were what is now the PPAC, Providence Performing Arts Center? Was the Ocean State Theater at the time. And the first big show that we ever opened up was for Eric Burdon and the Animals. And umm, tremendous group by the way. There were four bands, and we went on just before the Animals, and that was cool. And I got the autographs of everybody that we did the gigs with. And I 've got David Crosby, ya know... when he actually looked like a human being. Before he became a... well I don't know what the hell happened to him but um. And some were in Massachusetts, there was a place called Lakeview Park in Mendon Mass. which was a huge hall. And we did quite a few there, and we did a couple I think it was like a Roseland Ballroom in Taunton, which was pretty big, we opened up for the Kingsmen a few times there.
[00:25:30]
BC: Is that Taunton, Massachusetts?
SP: Yes. And Lakeview Park was in Mendon Mass. And those were fun gigs, cause you're opening up for people that right now I mean, they're riding the top of the charts, you're opening up for the Byrds. And it was great, it was an education, it was a good thing. I really enjoyed it, got to meet some very nice people, probably the friendliest of anybody I met was Eric Burdon. And he'd just stand there and talk to ya, and he was totally sold on San Francisco. That was his thing. Which of course, they did one song called San Francisco, and that was his place ya know. And he loved to talk about it, with a thick Welsh accent, “Have you ever been to San Francisco?” It was like “What?” And he's about this tall... man, could he sing. That son of a bitch had a voice that blows, it wouldn't break glass, it wasn't that kind of high pitch, but I think he could probably move the wall about two feet. And we did a couple of concerts with him. Good people, good people, and that was a good time of my life. We went on the road for a while, and we would do a lot of two weeks here, two weeks there – and it became a circuit. We'd go down the cape and play the Sand Pine club, and some places in Falmouth that I don't even remember, and then we'd wind up in Boston or Cambridge. We played a place in Cambridge called Frisco East, which was interesting. And that was supposed to be their answer I guess to Fillmore West, Bill Graham's place, but it didn't approximate that by a long shot. Played an interesting place in Cambridge with the last group that I had put together, called Lodestone, which had some very good musicians in it after the Banshees split up. And it was called JA's of Cambridge, which was pretty much run by a motorcycle group called the Barons of Boston... It was interesting, it was... you played pretty much whatever the hell they wanted to hear. Ya know, and the president loved, there's a Jeff Beck tune called “Satisfaction”, not related to the Stones tune at all, and we did that one at least twice a night, and he loved that. And the place was pretty much, it was a biker place. Could get a little rowdy, could get a little rough... I can remember there being a fight in there, one guy got in a fight and the next thing you know you see a broken bottle coming out. About 4 bikers grabbed the guy, went out the door- they locked everybody in the club.
[00:27:45]
BC: ...wow...
SP: So nobody could go out and see what the hell happened. We never saw the other guy again, but who the hell knows. And then they came back and apologized, and set everything up. And... we're there one night, and ya know, it was musicians you get off, you're on your break, you go out and you're talkin to people, you're having a great time. And myself and the Organ player Bob Weagen, rest his soul; he's since passed away, great organist. Played for the group called PF and the Fliers for years. And we're sitting there, we're talkin to the chicks. And I hear, “You're sitting in my seat.” And I look over, and I'm lookin at a belt buckle – that's it. And I look up, and this guy's the sergeant of the guard, he had to be about 6'7”. And, you'll have to bleep this after, but Bob's words were, “Fuck him, you can take him!” [laughter] And the owner must've spotted it, cause he came over and he said, “Steve, it's time for you guys to go on.” I dunno, we might not be having this interview otherwise, ya know? I might be in a matchbox about that big, cause there was no way I was coming out of that one alive. And I could take care of myself back then, but not against someone like that.
[00:28:54]
BC: How much interplay was there between the uhh... was there a uniquely Providence kind of rock scene, and was there much interplay with Boston, it being so close?
SP: No. No, there wasn't a lot. Very rarely would you see a group come up from Boston. When they did, they were usually a pretty good draw too. There was one group, and I'll be damned if I can think of the name, the, as soon as you asked flashed to mind- the lead singer, they were a blues band, and the lead singer was blind. And I'm not gonna make any of the blind melon chitlin jokes, or any of the Cheech and Chong stuff. But man, this guy could sing his ass off, and he would pack a place when he came in. But it was unusual, that I remember, that they would bring anybody in as a top draw, outta Boston. There was a group out of Connecticut called Celebration that did quite well, in the Providence area. How the hell they drifted in from there, I don't know. You got people uh, because you're asking, it was a desirable place to play. There were groups out of Tennessee coming up. That did pretty well, there was, I can't remember the guy's last name but there was a group called Little David and the Giants. And they were doing basically the same thing everyone else was doing, “Aqualung” by Tull, and ya know, just good hard rock. But um, a few clubs had the stones to book acts from out of state, a lot of em would be a little nervous. So for a while, I wouldn't say it became a mecca... but definitely Tennessee was one of the biggies, and Georgia and Alabama. But it wasn't southern rock; it was southern guys playing rock.
BC: Why do you think Providence was so receptive, why do you think it was such a great place to play?
SP: Umm, people did love music. People were really into music. As musicians, umm... you were respected. As, people that knew you in the clubs, they'd, people would come up. I mean, besides the applause that you get which, believe me, besides the money if you play at a place without applause, you wanna shoot yourself. It really does have a lot to do with it. And people really enjoyed bands. Ya know, why? I dunno, they were into it. They would stop you on the street and talk to you, and ask you where you were playing. And uhh, if I can digress for a minute... I was uhh, years after I was out of singing, we're restoring an old mill for s omeone in Bristol, Mass. And I'm talking with one of the owners, and I remember the last name was Mahoney. And he said uhh, we're talking about something, and I mentioned a gentleman named Jimmy Clark... am I talking right out of your tape?
BC: No no, it's perfect, we have plenty of time.
[00:31:37]
SP: I mentioned a gentleman named Jimmy Clark, and he said, “How do you know Jimmy Clark?” and I said, “Well,” I said uhh, “In, ya know, back in the 60s and 70s, we used to be at the edge”. And he looks at me and starts pointing his finger. And he stops, and he says “Wait a minute. The banshees? Conquistador, right?” I said yah. “I don't believe it!” He gets on the phone, and this was like 15 years after I'm done playing. Calls his brother at the plant in Lincoln, “You won't believe who's in my office right now! Steve Parisi from the Banshees! You remember the Banshees?” And they're goin back and forth on the phone. Ya know, this is cool. [laughter] And he hung up, and he just said something that to me was profound, he just said, “You don't know how many of our lives you touched. In the '60s and '70s, we loved the band.” And I'm not the only band that was loved. We, like I said, we rode a real crest for about 7 years, and that was nice. But we never got past being anything more than an incredible club band. Todd always said, we were 1 guitar player away from being just grrreat. We were damn good. So even all those years later, the memories of it... and people were just into it, they really liked musicians! You got invited places. I got invited to people's houses that, ya know my hair's halfway down to my ass, that ordinarily wouldn't associate with somebody that looked like that. But it was different, you're a musician. Now, maybe a little bit of it was the allure of the minor local celebrity. But a lot of it was, they just seemed to get a kick out of it, they enjoyed the music. I mean, people would dance to every damn song, and clap after every damn song. And yah, we played them well – I mean, if you sucked, you were gonna get ridden outta there. But good bands, people really appreciated it. Ya know, I don't know what it's like anymore, Brandon, I really don't, ya know? And if I go in, I don't care if I'm at a wedding and somebody's playing, if they're playing something halfway decent, I'm gonna clap. It just means so much, people don't know. We played a place one year, and I uhh... what the hell was name of it... Timothy's. And the guy, Peter, said...
BC: In Providence, or...?
[00:33:53]
SP: No, it was in Framingham. And, I know you're more concerned with Providence, but this is one of my anecdotes, and he says “Don't be surprised, people don't applaud here.” And by the 4th song, people were dancing and they were clapping. And that was with Lodestone, which again was as good as The Banshees because of the caliber of the musicians, it was a group I had for a year. And uhh, that guy turned around and said, “You wanna do the next 6 weeks?” We couldn't, we were booked. But, ya know, the first thing he, he was apologizing because even as a club owner, he knew what it was like. Club owners are a breed unto themselves, trust me. And they're not all pleasant. We played a place in Lowell Mass called the Three Copper Men? Used to time musicians with an egg timer. You did 40 on, he didn't want you to do 42, 40 was fine. But you did 20 off. Not 21. And he would prorate your pay. And, ya know, guys tell me, I talked to one of the barmaids, he'll prorate guys, take 4 dollars and 32 cents outta their pay? Never got us for a penny. Never, that bastard, I made sure of that. Never got us for a penny. But uhh, we played a place in Revere, I remember, called the Louis room. And I can't remember the guys name, and you get down to that end and you're getting into the umm, the... I can say it, I'm Sicilian. You're getting into the Sicilian connection and all that, and you know there's some mob influence down there. And the guy's braggin how he's got 250,000 dollars worth of counterfeit bills. I said, I'm tellin you right now, at the end of the week, you're paying me with a goddamn check. I'm not taking cash from you. [laughter]
[00:35:33]
But, I mean, just interesting places. I played a place called Leo's Lounge in Marlborough. And Leo was an ex-con. Big on arm wrestling. And he'd ripped his arm, I dunno, arm wrestling the guy from the carrier wasp that had 2000 people? And we had a few differences. I was pretty good in my day. Leo came down, and put the check down. [bangs table] “I'll armwresle you for it. But it has to be left handed.” And he knew I was right handed. My left hand was always better than my right. It took 15 minutes to beat that son of a bitch. And ya know, I was 185lbs, I grew up on a farm. I bailed hay. I had one guy used to pay me 2 dollars an hour, and made a harness for me with a rope, and I used to pull logs outta the goddamn woods for him. So, unlike a lot of the hippies and musicians in the '60s and '70s, I could lift more than a pencil. Ya know? And I beat the bastard for the check. [laughter] I also had 4 other guys standing around that probably would've crowned me with guitars and drums if I'd lost. But it was uhh, the little things that stick with you? And it was a great place to play. Leo was fine after that, he was a little pissy for a couple of days, but, ya know – nobody wants to get beaten by a hippie. It was one of the more amusing things that we did. When we played the Lanton's Floor up in Maine... if I'm going too much, just pull the plug.
BC: No, this is great
[00:37:00]
SP: We played the Lanton's Floor up in Maine, and there were a lot of Penobscot Indians up there, Penobscot Indian tribe. And one night a bunch of us got a little high, got a little drunk, and this Indian rick says “I'm gonna give you guys a totem pole.” About 6 feet high. He didn't tell us it wasn't his. We go over, you had to cross the bridge to get to the village, the Penobscot Indian tribe village. And there's 4 of us, with this totem pole on our shoulders, come back over. And the next thing you know, here come the gumbo, here come the cops. And he managed to bullshit us out of it. And trust me, when we first walked into Bangor Maine, they hadn't seen anything quite like us, ya know? The hair thing was still an issue, and now you're getting into the sticks. Bangor was not the city it is now. And uhh, but I did end up leaving, he gave me an Indian war club as a gift and a souvenir. It was uhh... it was a good time. [laughter] In retrospect, it was a hell of a good time.
BC: So you mentioned, you were actually on a farm when you were a kid?
SP: Yah, it wasn't a working farm. But we had umm, we grew up pretty poor. Ya know, let's put it this way – at one point with 7 kids, my father's taking home 50 bucks a week. I can eat that much a day, especially back then, any kid that's growin up... and uhh, we're all just about 2 years apart, except for my youngest brother who'se umm. Let's see, I'm 59, got a brother 57, sister 56, another sister 54, another one 52, I've got a brother that turns 50 next month, and another brother that's 47. And that was a lot to support. But my dad always seemed to go that little bit extra, and he worked at night tending bar, besides. And we had horses. And if you had horses, you have to feed them. So he'd make a deal with somebody to come in, we had fields there, and he'd cut the fields and bale it, and my dad would split it with them. Well, to get the hay in the barn, first you gotta get it on the truck to get it to the barn. And that's when they were the old square bales of hay. And a lot of what I did was pickin those bales up, and throwing them up on the truck. And we used to, my first job was pickin beans for a refined farm, Heimey Fein. Who used to, what he'd do, back then you could get away with this – was fly a bunch of people in from Puerto Rico, a bunch of Puerto Ricans in, put them up in basically chicken coup shacks, give em room and board, and all their money they'd get at the end of the summer. And you picked beans for a dollar a bushel. So boy, I tell ya, when I started making money as a musician I thought I'd died and went to heaven. Making 3 00 bucks a week after that shit, was... jesus...
[00:39:55]
BC: How um, where was the farm?
SP: The farm was in the Rehoboth. It still exists to this day, Fein farms. Yep, I cringe every time I drive by there and see the bean crop. And you'd fill a bushel, and then Heimey would come by and step on it. Ya know, cause beans kind of fluff up if you don't pack em down. Crrrshhhp: “Not full yet.” So you might make 3 dollars a day. It gives you an education, ya kno w, you definitely learn an appreciation for some things. And then I'd just screw around with the old guitar at home every once in a while. My dad did get me into, I used to say I'd never forget him for it, I was 10 years old, knew about 6 chords, and he volunteers myself and a friend of mine to do one of these high school things where they stick you up on stage in the auditorium? Aww god, we did two instrumentals, myself and Don Roy. He bought me a Gibson amp, which I have to this day, it's a 1957 Gibson Skylark... the guitar, which was a Gibson, is since gone. It was disastrous. Nervous as a bastard, I'm like 12 years old, ya know, know maybe like 3 songs. I'm up there... but then you realize, back then, everybody was 10 or 12 and they all sucked at what they did anyway. It was not one of my fav- that was not where I became stagestruck. Trust me, like, “Oh wow, this is what I want to do...” Ehh, I was, I'll never do this again in my life.
[00:41:25]
BC: What happened to your siblings, are they around Providence, or...?
SP: Yah, 2 of my brothers work with me in the business. Another one was in the business, a 4th brother, he moved to Florida a couple years ago. He's doing the same line of work, but um, not running a business, he's running it for someone else. I have a sister who lives in Washington DC, and she works for the development office of... I can't remember what, but she was always good at that fundraising. She used to do that at Brown, she was in the development office at Brown for years. My sister Reina lives in Warwick, and my sister Kris, who is a court stenographer, lives in North Dartmouth. She's a married to a judge now, my brother in law's a judge. We're all pretty close, we stay in touch. Before some of us moved outside of traveling distance, we'd get together fairly often. In fact, my brother Rob's 50th birthday- he doesn't know it, but we've got a big birthday surprise planned for him. And once a year, we have a Parisi family reunion, which umm... if you ever wanted to wipe out about a third of the Sicilians in the country, here's your shot. Because, we're all congregated. It definitely would take care of the Parisi population, that's for sure. And about 100, 110 of them, they fly in from Tuscan, Texas, Virginia, Florida, the Carolinas, and that's... we see each other once a year. And it's a good thing.
BC: Were any of your siblings involved at all in providence back in the '60s and '70s when you were?
SP: Umm, not musically. Not musically, although my brother Rick who went everywhere that we played, that was his thing... and he said “I had a lot of fun telling chicks that the guy up there was my brother.” And he said it worked. And you can use your imagination on that one. And he also became our road manager. Him and another friend of ours, Elliot Mazo who's still around somewhere, would set up for us. And it was like, that was, now we're cool. No more standing around lugging the shit out at 3 in the morning when the wind's blowing and it's 30 below. And that's always every musician's nightmare, time to break down and go to the next gig, ya know? And you're doing it at the end of the last show. And uhh... my sister Chris, and my brother Rob and my sister Reina were old enough to still come in and hear me play ya know, before they finished. A couple of the other siblings, no, they wouldn't make it. My sister Chris, same song every time she came in, “Play wild horses”. [laughter] That's all she ever wanted to hear. And I still know it on the guitar to this day, I guess thanks to her.
[00:44:25]
BC: So to what extent have you been able to keep in touch with your former musicians in the providence scene? Has it held together at all?
SP: Umm, they're around, but it's almost like Where's Waldo? There's one great guitarist, Paul Deshera who used to be in a group called Flesh. Groups for a while Brandon, just kept morphing. I was happy with what I had. Ya know, umm, there was, I'm gonna go off on a tangent here for a minute, but bring me back to earth. When we're playing in Boston, I got hooked up with a voice teacher, his name was Dante Pavoni. Who umm, when I took voice lessons, which was after about 5 years of blowing my vocal chords out, somebody said, a gentleman named Mel Smith who managed a group in Boston, said, “I'm going to hook you up with this guy.” And I, we went in for the lessons, it was Peter Wolf, myself, and Livingston Taylor. Well, you know who Livingston Taylor and Pete Wolf are. Nobody knows who I am. But two out of three ain't bad, right? And he, he was just a phenomenal vocal coach. And when the cast of Hair came to Boston, he was coaching the cast and doing the umm, auditions. And he said, you know, you could go up – he called me baby, well he used to call everybody baby, he was an old opera queen. But he said, you know baby, you could go up there and get an audition, he says, and you'll probably get it. And I know what he's telling me, ya know, you can have the job. And he said, they're gonna go on tour. The one regret, ya know when people say do you have any regrets or was there ever a turning point that maybe you missed out on? That was it. And I said no, I said I'd rather stay with the people I'm with. He said, “well you're a rare dude, cause you're passing up an opportunity”. He should've said to me, “You're a goddamn fool”. Because, if you look at what came out of the cast of Hair with Beverly Deangelo and Treat William s , and god knows how many other people, and I'm not sayin it would've happened to me, but it was one hell of a shot. And I don't think I actually even know what I was turning down, ya know. And he was, he was just great to work with. And thanks to him, I could sing 7 nights a week, and still speak the next day, which... it does take its toll on you, and he taught me good vocal techniques and good breathing. He said, you've taken something off your range from all the years of screaming, but I can help you. And he felt like that with anybody. He had helped James Taylor when he had some vocal problems, he knew exercises that could help you get past polyps, you could sing over a cold... and he looked, oh god, he looked like Caruso. He was a dead ringer for the opera singer Caruso. But he could sit on a piano and sing, and he sounded more like Van Morison. Ya know, besides the fact that he could sing opera. And I was in Washington D.C. About 4 years ago at my sisters, and her and my brother in law are involved in a lot of social circles there. And there was a husband and wife team there that were opera singers, and my sisters tellin em, ya know Steve used to have a group and we used to sing, and I said I trained for a while in Boston. And they said, “With who?”, I said a gentleman named Dante. Before I'd even finished, she said “Dante Pavoni?” He was that well known, and well respected. So... I went off there somewhere, and I hope you're gonna be able to bring me back on track... [laughter]
[00:47:47]
Umm, I lost it... Oh, as far as groups morphing. I'm all over the place, sorry. You're on my favorite subject, which is rock and roll.
BC: nah, it's great
SP: You had uhh Ken Lions in Tombstone, there was a group Dick Domain and the Demons
BC: These are all Providence bands back then?
SP: Providence bands. Which later became the Bluejays. And had an album which had moderate success. There was another, um, Northeast Expressway... Flesh was a uhh, came out of people left over from Tombstone Blues Band, escapees from Tombstone and the Flyers. They, it was like, ya know all the parts could mix and match. And I just, I dunno, you've gotta have some kind of chemistry. You can have 5 or 6 of the best musicians in the world, just like you can have 9 of the best baseball players on the planet. And they go out on the field, and there's nothing cohesive at all, and it falls apart. And the, the ego takes over and everybody wants to be a superstar. But uhh, guys that I had when we split in '71? Next thing you know there's a group called Pale Rider, and it's somebody from the Banshees, and it's somebody from Flesh and it's somebody from PF and the Flyers. And you turn around, and there's another group and they came from a group called The Rain. And next thing you know, it's Jon Polsy singin with this guy – Jon Polsy, who had a fantastic voice, turned into Cat Stevens and he started singin for Jesus. Which I understand he still is. Great voice, but, ya know they're very much into the come, we'll sing over you, we'll pray over you and uhh, I'm just... ya know, I shouldn't say this, I'm just not that religious. I went to see, there used to be a group called the Smith Brothers – 3 piece band, fantastic, Donnie Smith was the drummer, Bobby Benevedes was the bass player, but 3 pieces, I can't remember the lead guitarist. Made some great music, they started out as the Tangerine Zoo. And umm, I went to see Donnie Smith at a Christian coffee house, he's singin for Jesus. And we got along great back then, and I understand listen, a whole change in lifestyle for ya know... and I went in, and I wanted to give him a copy of the disc and everything, “Hey Donnie, how ya doin?” Barely looked up. Knew me well, barely looked up. He was busy at his little religious clique. Well ya know something? I'm not big on God, but I don't think that's what the fuck he was talking about when he said love your fellow man, by just sticking with the few people that you're with. It really pissed me off. Because I do go out of my way, you're asking, to get in touch with people? And umm... I'd love to see Polesy. Butchinger Kelly, who was a great lead singer for PF and the Flyers, started with a group called The Rain. Got in touch with him, he's a mailman now up in Worcestershire. It's amazing what a lot of guys are doing, now that... there're not a lot of Mark Tabers left that that's all they do for a living is play keyboards or...
[00:50:46]
BC: Did most of them still stay around Providence though?
SP: They, umm... yah well, Bob Weagin went to Chicago. Bobbie Wadel, of course, off to California for fame among musicians ya know, just, he's revered. Amazing guitarist. A lot of them are in the Providence / Massachusetts area still. I do try to track them down, umm... Bruce Gasper was in a group, and I can't remember the name of it, with Todd, my old keyboard player. Bruce had a beautiful beautiful voice – didn't relate well with an audience though, and you do have to have some kind of... but Jesus Christ could he sing is ass off. And I manage to track him down every once in a while. I tracked down umm, I'm back in the Studio Again, we're working on a second album. Which Todd says we're gonna call Steve Parisi and the Near Death Experience which, if you look at the shape and the age of most of the guys... [laughter] it could be, ya know, it could be... But I managed to track down a gentleman, Bob Rensie who I run into in business now, who was a sax player in the '60s and '70s with a group called Caeser and the Romans. They're out there, they're out there. There was a group Albie and the Spellbinders – Albie's selling cars now, I ran into him one day. You never got a chance to be close, everybody respected each other and on your nights off, it was a busman's holiday. “What are we gonna do tonight”, well you're not gonna stay home. Let's go listen to Tombstone, or let's go listen to PF... you know, you wanted to see what the competition was doing, plus you were friendly with them. Patch of blue is playing here, or... you'd go out and track people down. So you did to some extent manage to cultivate some friendships along the way that, some of them I still value, if I could see the people. I still think of them fondly; don't even know where to look. 3 years ago, I hooked up with Todd just through a freak thing. We haven't seen each other in 28 years. And I'm in a pub, inside of a large restaurant, and I'm talking to this woman somebody introduced me to, and she said, she mentioned her last name was Dequatro. I said, “There used to be a fantastic drummer in this state, Tommy Dequatro, played with a group called Metropolis, about a 9 piece band.” She said, “That was my ex husband.” So we start talking, and it's just freak of circumstance. And she said, “You're Steve?” I said yeah, she said, “You're the Steve Todd talks about?” I said, “I could be, except Todd hasn't been around for about 28 years.” She said, “No, he's been back for about a year and a half.” Gave her my card, and that's how we hooked up. Todd came down, and uhh... so at one point, I made it my mission to get the old Banshees together. And I got 4 of us out of 5. I'm still in touch, the old bass player Dennie and I are still very good friends, so that was just a matter of picking up the phone. Todd and I were together. Michael Quinn, who was the drummer who had gone off for fame and fortune with Ken Lions and the Tombstone Blues Band, and they went on tour with Aerosmith and some other bands, but never quite, ya know, the story of a lot of bands – just because you've got an album doesn't mean you're going anywhere. And had some hard times, and nobody knew where he was, and somebody told me, “Well, I heard that he's living in Pawtucket.” And I said, after all this, he's there and nobody could get in touch with him? We'd stayed close for about 8 or 10 years after the music scene, and then just drifted away. And then umm, through some friends on the state police... uhh... [laughter]
[50:54:30]
I gave them a description, and somebody says... I'm not gonna mention who helped me, because... but anyway, I sent a copy of the cd out because, you don't know if people want to hear from you anymore. And I sent it out, and I didn't hear from him. And Todd said, “What the hell's a matter with him?” and Mark Taber said, “Have you heard from Quinney?” Cause Mark used to play with him... So I went back to my friend, and I said I need a phone number as well as the address. And I got the number and I called up and got him on the phone, he said, “Ya know, my wife's been telling me I should call, you know, I sold my drums...” He said he was so soured when he got out of it that he wanted nothing to do with music or musicians. I said, well how about we get together, and he said fine. And the 4 of us stood in this room where we're sitting right now with a bottle of champagne. And it was the first time the 4 of us had been in the same room in 36 years. The Banshee, Banshee reunion. And now Dennie's gonna play on the cd, Michael's got some health problems, he's got emphysema so he doesn't know, I said “Do you think if we gave you some oxygen, maybe we'll stick you beyond a drumkit for a short tune?” And he said, “Ehh, we'll give it a try, we'll think about it”. Taber's gonna sit in... So yah, it's nice tracking people down, it's nice. And if you get a warm reception... I've tracked down one guy didn't remember who I was, and we used to jam on stage together. So, I said, either you're burnt or you're an asshole. And I think it was the former not the latter, he just chose not to remember. But um, they're out there. There's one called Mark Quinn who I played with, and he's still in the area, and I saw his name “Featuring Irish Tunes by Mark Quinn” at the public house. It's amazing, because it, say how did you go from being a rock and roll singer to singing Irish tunes at the public house down on Post road? But I'm gonna track him down, yah. We were always very friendly. And I heard Paul Franklin who was, that's where PF came from, PF and the Flyers, and another big rock and roll band in the '60s and 70s... Paul says, somebody said they were at a pub down the street, McCormick's an Irish pub, and they were coming up to see me. Some younger guys from the neighborhood, said “Let's take a ride up and see the old man. Yah I haven't seen Parisi in a while.” And there's this grizzled old guy down there went “Parisi? Not Steve Parisi? You tell him Paul Franklin from PF said hello!” So I said what's he doing, he's playing Irish tunes somewhere? Maybe that's the coming thing, I dunno, am I missing something? [laughter]
[00:56:55]
BC: I don't think so.
SP: I'm not gonna make a living singing Chez la Luna or anything from The Godfather, I know that, but maybe...
BC: This is kind of a completely different vein, but umm, was there any interaction with or influence from the College Hill and the kind of East Side that... I know that Brown especially was a very different place socially back then than it is today...
SP: Yah it was, we used to play a lot of parties at the quadrangle.
BC: Really? What was that like?
SP: It rocked.
BC: Was everyone really friendly?
SP: Oh yah. Yeah, it was a good, the '60s and '70s the whole Brown culture and area, Thayer St. and everything? They'd sit there on the corner and I mean, let's face it, we were just all into chicks at the time and everything. And it's still, I'm old, I'm not dead. It's still a great place to drive through. And it's just, back then it was a lot of fun, and everybody... there were more shops on Thayer st... There's one thing about being in a rock and roll band, chick's loved it. [laughter] We played some of the Brown frat parties. Can't believe the size of some of the rooms they'd jam a whole band in, and about 60 people. They're probably s till doing it, I dunno... they're making the news a lot more now than they used to though...
[00:58:21]
BC: Thats true too, unfortunately...
SP: But no, that was a great crowd. Very welcoming, very very appreciative musically. Oh, they had to have live music at their gigs, nobody was spinning records as they say back then. Nobody was just gonna turn on the radio, they paid and they paid you well.
BC: What about some of the other colleges around town? Like was it, were the crowds at some of these clubs do you think a lot of college age kids?
SP: Um, college age kids couldn't pull it off back then. Ya know, they would try, but 21 was the drinking age. Which I think it is again in Rhode Island, though they did flirt with 18 for a while. And then you saw college age kids, that was after my time. By then I was just working as a doorman in clubs and you'd, you had 16 year olds trying to get in as 18 year olds, it was just totally out of control.
BC: Do you have any idea when that happened the 18...?
SP: Ohhh man, umm... I think it was late '70s? Cause it's a distant memory, and it didn't last long, it just really. A lot of 18 year olds proved that they couldn't handle their liquor, no offense I don't know how old you are but... ya know, at my age anybody your age just looks real young. It just couldn't be handled. But there was um, that was the young college crowd. You got into juniors and seniors, we had a lot of them come into the clubs. And they loved, ya know, rock and roll wide open. A lot of college people, never any problems. Cause it wasn't just the frathouse or a dorm, you're gonna have fights or arguments at any clubs, but everybody at that time, the average age that would come in to hear us... women would always get in around 19 or 20, cause what's gonna bring guys to a club? Is women. And that was always the theory. And women don't tend to be obnoxious drunks. So if you have them there, then guys come in.
[01:00:20]
[MD Recorder battery dies + MD Recorder backup batteries won't work = end of interview]