Speak/Talk: Talk Dirty (To Me)

Romeo Void: Talk Dirty (To Me)
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Romeo Void briefly shone brightly in the New Wave world with a sound that mixed punk, dance, jazz and funk, fronted by the sexy, soulful voice of Debora Iyall. And yet, after a handful of successful albums, EPs and singles, a major label contract, and packed concerts, they broke up within 5 years. Iyall has maintained that the main reason that the band gave up was because she was overweight. In an interview in 2003, she stated: "Howie [Klein] sold us from 415 [Records] to Columbia Records, and they were like 'Who's this fat chick?' They decided that was as far as it was going to get, and pulled their support." Although Iyall has subsequently backed off that claim somewhat, and there is also evidence of “health issues” and intra-band tensions that helped to break them up, I don’t think that it is inaccurate to say that the perception that it would be hard to promote a band fronted by a heavy singer contributed to the band’s failure to have a longer career. (Didn't seem to stop Meat Loaf, who released Bat Out Of Hell on another label in the Columbia family, from making it big, though. Hmmmmm.)

Founded in 1979 at the San Francisco Art Institute, when Iyall, having recently seen Patti Smith perform, got together with fellow student, bass player Frank Zincavage. They added guitarist Peter Woods and drummer Jay Derrah, and christened themselves “Romeo Void.” Saxophonist Benjamin Bossi was added shortly thereafter, and Derrah left before the band recorded their first full album, leading to an almost Spinal Tap-esque parade of drummers.

I remember hearing Romeo Void’s first album, It's A Condition, in 1981 at WPRB, and being captivated by their sound. Back in the pre-Internet, pre-MTV era [technically, MTV started in August, 1981, but I didn't see it for a couple of years, because in those days, not everyone had cable, and not every cable system had MTV.]  I don’t recall seeing any pictures of the members, and literally had no clue what Iyall looked like. And I didn’t care. It was also clear that many of the band’s songs had sexual undertones, or overtones, for that matter. One highlight from the debut was “Talk Dirty (To Me)," which musically had all of the elements that made the band great, with overtly sexual, even kinky, lyrics. It foreshadowed the band’s most famous song, the Ric Ocasek-produced “Never Say Never,” released the following year, that featured the memorable chorus, “I might like you better if we slept together.”

Romeo Void’s biggest hit “A Girl In Trouble (Is A Temporary Thing),” came from their last album, 1984's more mainstream sounding Instincts, so it really seems that Columbia Records’ weight shaming based lack of support might have cost them a successful band.

Iyall ended up leaving the music business for years, teaching art and engaging in projects to work with and train fellow Native Americans, although she has, recently, dipped her toe back into recording and performing. I don’t believe that any of the other members of the band had much of a musical career outside of Romeo Void.

They were an excellent live band, too—here’s a clip of “Talk Dirty (To Me)” from a show in 1981, and you can see what I am talking about. No one seemed to care that the lead singer wasn’t a stick figure. It was about this time that I interviewed the band, something that I alluded to in another column, before they performed at Trenton’s City Gardens. Having done a bit more research into the club’s calendar, I believe that the interview was in March, 1982, when they played there, with local heroes Regressive Aid opening. There’s a reference in the City Gardens’ oral history book, No Slam Dancing, No Stage Diving, No Spikes, to the band coming to WPRB for an interview drunk in July, 1981, when school was out and I was in Europe, so I think that Randy Now, City Garden’s leader, has mixed up the two dates.

As I have mentioned, during the interview, Iyall acted really annoyingly, blurting out profanities and doodling penises on scrap paper, so if she was drunk, that makes some sense. In any event, she has noted in another interview, "I do like to be provocative, and I definitely have access to my sexuality, and as a topic I find it ripe.” She did, however, agree to do a station ID, which you can find here, along with probably way more than you ever want to know about my time at WPRB. 

In my early days on Facebook, I found that Iyall and I had a mutual friend, who herself is a sexually provocative performance artist, so it didn’t surprise me. Now, both of them block access to their friend lists, so I can’t see if that relationship has continued, but there are times that I want to reach out to Iyall and ask her if she remembers the interview, which all of us at WPRB involved in the event have not forgotten.

Russia/Ukraine: Rocket to Russia

The Ramones: Sheena is a Punk Rocker
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A bit of a cheat here, because the theme reference is to an album title, not a song, but honestly, when I first heard the theme, this is what came to mind. The third studio album by The Ramones, it was released in 1977, when the Cold War was still in full swing, so the picture on the back cover, of a “pinhead” riding a rocket from the U.S. to Russia, was pretty provocative. And the original artwork is currently in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The album showed a bit of growth for the band, with some slower and poppier songs, and includes a number of classics, including “Sheena is a Punk Rocker,” and a couple of covers.

Actually, this is really an excuse to write about Trenton’s City Gardens, a somewhat legendary (mostly) punk club that closed in 1994, but is currently in the midst of a wave of nostalgic publicity. I’ve written about the club a couple of times, here and here, as has my fellow SMM’er, Central New Jerseyite Darius, here and here. But what is feeding the renewed interest is the recent publication of No Slam Dancing, No Stage Diving, No Spikes, an oral history of City Gardens, which you can buy here, and the soon-to-be released film, Riot on the Dance Floor. You can see a trailer for the movie here. Earlier this week, one of the authors of the book was on The Daily Show, being interviewed by former City Gardens bartender Jon Stewart, along with Gibby Haynes of Butthole Surfers, who appeared at the club, often with disastrous consequences.

No Slam Dancing is a fascinating read about a club that was, for the most part, the lone outpost of punk and new wave music between New York and Philadelphia. The anecdotes from club management, particularly the brains behind the operation, erstwhile mailman and DJ Randy “Now” Ellis, employees, regulars and musicians give an interesting insight into the 1980’s punk scene, in the era before you could hear anything and find out about anything on the Internet.

One of the key points that keeps getting made in the book, and in the interview with Jon Stewart, is that City Gardens, despite the fact that it was a dump, and dangerous, provided a haven for disaffected fans and musicians, a safe place (psychologically, if not always physically) for outcasts. And I’m glad that it served that function. I have to say, though, that my experience was a bit different. First, I was going to shows there in 1981 and 1982, before the more hardcore and skinhead bands began to play, so while I do remember it as being a shit hole, I never felt any danger in the club. Outside, maybe, but not inside. Second, I was a Princeton student and college radio DJ who was coming to hear music that I liked, not to find a tribe of fellow punks. I usually got in for free, sometimes got to interview the bands and even introduce them on stage, so I didn't qualify as a disaffected youth.  As a result, some of the nostalgia for City Gardens as a refuge is beyond me, but I certainly have very warm feelings for the place.

It was fun seeing references in the book to shows that I attended and to WPRB (although not as many as I would have expected). I’m particularly fond of Randy’s discussion of driving members of Romeo Void to do an interview at the station, drinking beer with them in the car before the interview, and having to pull over to allow singer Debra Iyall to “piss behind a tree.” It explains her truly obnoxious behavior during the interview that I tried to conduct, including her blurting out profanities and doodling penises on scrap paper. And makes me wonder why she didn’t just wait until she got to the interview to use the Holder Hall basement toilets, which, while not luxurious, were better than squatting behind a tree. But she was a piece of work.

To bring it back to the Ramones, one of my favorite City Gardens memories was getting the chance to interview Johnny Ramone backstage along with one of my fellow staffers, Chuck Steidel, before getting to introduce the band from the stage. Although not a life event as important as, say, my marriage or the birth of my kids, the chance to stand up in front of an audience and say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Ramones,” probably still makes my top ten.