|
|
|
 |
RATS THE WAY WE LIKE IT!
|
"Long Island." To the non-New Yorker it conjures up images of Jay "the Great" Gatsby's extravagance and the nosejobbed Jewish American Princesses whose frigidness was the punchline to 1,000 (pre-Lewinsky) jokes. But those moneyed hoi polloi come from Long Island's North Shore. There's plenty of other real estate and a lot lower property values elsewhere on the Island. For example, you certainly wont experience a country club atmosphere in Seaford when you're drinking drafts with biker chicks at the High Noon Saloon.
I'd long been a casual fan of Long Island's legendary rude rockers the Good Rats, and fate would turn that interest into a visit to the High Noon. Being familiar with the Rats' recording history --- a stellar Garage Psyche LP from the late 60s and a half dozen glorious absurdly decadent 70s Rock albums --- I was surprised to find out from their website (goodrats.com) that they were still active. When I called the hotline and heard not only listings for countless upcoming live shows (including something called "Ratstock III") but also an unyielding rant in a heavy New Yawk accent against certain Rat Fans for not being loyal enough, I knew I had to find out more. I was going to be in NYC the next week, when the High Noon was hosting a series of Rats shows, so I made it my mission to learn what this Good Rats thing was all about
Over the course of their career the Good Rats have been compared to Kiss, The Dead, The Music Machine, Journey, Cole Porter, Queen, Leatherwolf, The Turtles, Chuck Berry, Steely Dan, Frank Zappa, Blue Cheer, Rod Stewart, The Jimmy Castor Bunch, Van Halen, Extreme and the 1959 B-horror flick "The Killer Shrews." What's amazing is that all of these comparisons make perfect sense once you've listened to their albums. They've probably played as many shows as any rock band in history, they've released numerous albums, usually to positive critical response, and they've shared stages with some of the biggest bands of the 70s. Yet the Good Rats remain virtually unknown outside of their small but loyal cult following. "If the rest of the country was Long Island," Rats' drummer Joe Franco once lamented, "we'd be The Beatles."
Well, I doubt even if you scaled the Beatles down to Good Rats level that Ringo and his son would be rocking London's equivalent of the High Noon in 2001, but that's Liverpool's loss. Because the house was rawked by the current incarnation of the Rats (original songwriter/singer Peppi Marchello, his sons Gene on guitar and Stefan "The Weasel" on drums, Denis Perry a non-Marchello - on bass). Mind you, the house being rawked was a tiny bar with a "stage" only big enough for a drum kit, and rawking consisted of Peppi standing in the middle of the floor looking less like a Rock star and more like a well fed Teamster in shorts, a T-shirt and huge sunglasses ("I'm not wearing these because I think I'm cool, it's my allergies...it's like a million spiders going up my nose...). But however it looked, the packed crowd responded with incredible gusto, every classic Good Rats song seemingly their favorite and every new tune given full respect.
Though Peppi describes Good Rats fans as "everyone from bikers to dentists, captains of industries to the guys in jail for rape and murder," it looked like the bar was short on CEOs that night. The crowd of a hundred fifty or so rabid Rat-Heads was mostly of the Harley riding and blue-collar varieties. But that doesn't mean they don't have sophisticated tastes, because despite Peppi's rough edges it's very easy to see, even in a dark bar, that he's an unusual talent. In addition to the possessing the intangible magnetism most good front men have, he also has an excellent Rock & Roll voice, with some serious gravel helping to express a full range of sincere, Soulful sentiments. It's also very clear that the songwriting isn't what you expect from a bar band...this is all "professional" composition. That is, even if you don't like every song you can't deny that the craftsmanship is equal or better to comparable commercially successful radio songs.
It's sometimes hard to notice how good the songs are because you get caught up in Peppi's persona; he's keeping it real to the extreme! His stage manner is that of a smart mouthed, tough, neighborhood guy (a writer once described them as "SOOO Italian, you want to just puke spaghetti!" and pointed out that they sold shirts saying "Music so loud, it gives you Agita"). But the fans see beyond the tough guy exterior. When Peppi went into the dramatic ballad "Man On A Fish" I looked around and the crowd was completely entranced, with one behemoth of a biker --- not a weekend warrior, this was a 6' 5" hairy beast --- literally weeping! But even if I happened to miss those tears of a goon I wouldn't have been allowed to not know what was up because after the song Peppi declared, "See, not only am I the greatest Rock and Roll singer...but I am also the world's greatest balladeer!" Obviously this was a very special man. The Roctober crew was more than honored to sit down over pizza slices and hear him tell his story.
Born in Brooklyn into a "working stiff" first generation Italian American family (his grandparents came from Sicily), Peppi and Co. moved to the Island when he was seven. His parent's American Dream of upward mobility was seemingly furthered when Peppi became a college boy, going to St. Johns on a baseball scholarship. A bout of rheumatic fever at age13 had pretty much wiped out hopes of a pro ball career, but he enjoyed playing and it kept him in school making his folks happy, even if his heart wasn't in his studies.
When the Beatles hit, and guys in the cafeteria started playing guitars, Peppi, who previously was into Swing music, decided to give Rock & Roll a chance. "Did you ever see when the Beatles came into Idlewild, I was one of those guys yelling, 'Get a haircut!' I was kidding around, I really liked them. We started a little band at school. The guitarist was this guy Eric, very handsome, all the girls loved him. Someone came up and said, you guys want to play in our church, we said sure. We must have been terrible, playing Beatles songs mostly, maybe one or two originals. We were called The U-Men for University Men. And the response was so tremendous, the girls were yelling and screaming. We thought we were talented guys, but it was because this guy Eric was so handsome. Well nonetheless, right from then on I said, this is what I want to do, I was going to go into music. And at St. Johns I was a biology major, my parents thought I was going to go on to become a doctor."
Soon Eric became the first pothead Peppi ever met and stopped showing up for practice so Peppi recruited his little brother Mickey to take over guitar duties. "My brother was five years younger than me, 15 years old, he knew the songs. At that time you needed a cabaret license and had to be 18 to play in bars, so I forged his birth certificate and driver's license. My mother thought as long as he was with me it was all right, I was not a crazy kid, you know. So we were playing all the bars and then I informed my parents that medical school was not for me. I'm not even going to classes anymore, I'm hiding out upstairs where they have pianos at the different music departments, learning how to play and write songs."
"When I told my parents I didn't want to go to medical school my father freaked out and knocked me into every closet, it could have been a scene in any Italian movie. My father was a little guy, looked like the guy on Taxi. My mother was going 'You're going to give me a heart attack.' So anyways, as soon as he got tired of hitting me he said, 'So you're going to finish up school and go to medical school, right?' I said, 'What was this all about?'"
"This was like '66. The lead singer that started the band, he got drafted into Vietnam, so I became the lead singer. Before that he was the lead singer, I was the guy with the Italian voice to fill in the ballads. When I became lead I'd scream in a towel to try to get a raspier voice. I started writing some songs, they were awful. By then I was running into the city all the time, with whatever demo we could make, knocking on doors. Finally found two guys who were interested in the songs. They got us a record deal, and they proceeded to take everything."
Rob Haffkine and Barry Oslander were producers who saw in the Good Rats a chance to make names for themselves in the Rock & Roll world as super producers, a la Phil Spector, Don Kirschner or Kassenetz-Katz. Kapp Records was a label that had about as much to do with Rock as Lawrence Welk, making their bread and butter from artists like Roger Williams and Jack Jones. Their intentions were made clear by the album art on The Good Rats (Kapp KS3580, 1969). Open up the gatefold and you'll see two huge portraits of Ron and Barry and a third one of them in action, talking on the phone, and "producing." Tiny pictures of the band appear hanging off the tail of the giant rat that graces the cover. The words "A Ron Haffkine and Barry Oslander Production" appear in boldface bigger than the song titles. The band members' names do not appear. "Ever see the cover where they're giant and we're tiny, that kind of represents the way they thought the money situation should be, too. We didn't get anything for that record. We were the band, writing stuff, but they have the publishing, and they have their pictures on the album cover. They ought to be embarrassed about it because to this day I've never seen producers pictured on an album, let alone that big."
The band was still called The U-Men when they were signed by the would-be über-producers. Of course, at this point to have a college dropout and a fake i.d. teenager in a band called the University Men was almost a mocking of the Marchello parent's American Dream, so perhaps it was a good thing when the producers insisted on a name change. "There was the Animals, the Byrds, the Yardbirds the Beatles...we wanted to be an animal like everyone else, so since were from New York we decided we'll be Rats." Not quite comfortable with the rodent connotations H & O convinced the boys to add the "Good," but Peppi stood his ground when the producers insisted "Rats" should be spelled "Ratz." H & O had the last laugh though, as the band logo on the album cover was a hand scrawled graffiti job, with the 'S" backwards making it essentially a "Z" anyhow.
When they began recording the album Peppi was enchanted with The Animals and his songwriting was heavily influenced by Eric Burdon's Blues styled rough tales of adversity. Like on all subsequent Good Rats LPs, Peppi wrote all the songs himself, but with one exception this time. One song he co-wrote with his new bride ("She never got a royalty either, but we're still together...when you think about it she's the real producer of the new band -- I'm playing with two sons"). Peppi had been married shortly before the photos for the album cover were shot, and if you look closely at his tiny picture you'll see pasted on fake sideburns ("I had to be clean shaven for the wedding, I looked like...Dustin Hoffman!"). What also felt fake to him were the arrangements of his songs. He got a good deal on an arranger, to orchestrate a few things here or there, but to Peppi's dismay the producers had the entire album orchestrated with strings and horns everywhere. "This was not as heavy as the band was playing.'
Despite Peppi's misgivings, The Good Rats is a phenomenal LP. It's true that the mighty cult of loyal Rats fanatics often delete this from the cannon, considering the vastly different lineup that recorded Tasty four years later "the original Good Rats." But I wouldn't be surprised if a comparable number of Psychedelic/Garage collectors only recognize this LP and forego listening to the slicker 70s stuff. Whatever the case, one would be hard pressed to not love an album that starts off with a theme song that explains that despite rats being a "symbol of hate since the beginning of time, "they are the Good Rats. Combining heavy, weird sludge rock with cartoon soundtrack music and a Dixieland break, the originality of this declaration of Rattiness is undeniable. As the song ends with motorcycle sound effects and "Pong"-like video game noises it segues into arguably the Rats finest tune ever.
"Joey Ferrari," based on a neighborhood character, is one of the best Rock & Roll ballads of all time. By ballad I don't mean love song, but rather "ballad" in the traditional Middle Ages/folk song sense, where the epic story of a hero or god is told in verse. What differentiates a true rock & Roll ballad from an old timey one is the lack of action; since the foolish immediateness of youth and the importance of Right Now are key elements of Rock & Roll, instead of do (as in do great things) the subject of the Rock & Roll ballad merely has to be (as in be cool as hell). Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode" or Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl" may eventually do something in the future ("maybe someday your name will be in lights") but they aren't being celebrated in song for their accomplishments, just for their awesome presence and vibe.
"Joey Ferrari was a guy that worked in a gas station next to a bar that we played and rehearsed at. Just a greasy kind of an Italian kid, a mechanic, nice guy, heart of gold. I told him, 'I'm going to write a song about you.'" The 'heart of gold' aspect didn't make it into the final mix. With "a chip on his shoulder bringing him down" Joey was "raising hell all over town" and "looking for trouble wherever he goes (in) black shiny shoes and second hand clothes." Peppi's warns him that "the world's gonna wipe off that smile." Overall the lyrics achieve an amazing balance of sounding "street," tough and dumb while actually painting a very three dimensional portrait of a not-so-simple character. But even if the lyrics had been gibberish, this hard rocking, up-tempo (faster than you expect from anything this heavy) punk rock battlecry would still whoop your ass like a bike chain in a rumble. The lyrics, however, take it to another level, showcasing one of the Good Rats' greatest strengths: a juxtaposition of cartoon-like absurdity and a completely sincere delivery.
Despite the rough hewn portrait being painted of him, the real Ferrari loved the song and bought ten copies of the album. Peppi himself still recognizes the greatness of the tune, having recently re-cut it with his sons.
The rest of the LP also holds up well. "The Hobo" (released as a single, Kapp 946,1968) is an interesting tune for the Summer of Love, a working class outsider's take on Hippie values ("I'm a Hobo, no account, living free"). Peppi's love of the Animals shines through on the Burden-esque tunes "My Back Is Achin' (And My Mind Is No Better)," "Anybody Got The Time" and "If You Stay By Me." But the most dramatic tune is certainly "For the Sake of Anyone" where Peppi relates in dire tones that, "He was a good father to me even though he was dirt poor. I never once heard him complain...his whole life was my mother, he could never satisfy her..." As the melodramatic song climaxes tragedy and suicide and revenge all build to an explosive boil, ending with the singer's howling return home to his evil mother.
"I guess I was very much like the Black guys today who come from suburbia but act like they have a chip on their shoulder. That song about the guy whose mother cheated on her husband and the husband killed himself...my mom and dad are both alive and their very good people, this is just what you write about."
The Good Rats in many ways isn't as different from later Rats' work as it seems. Though Peppi believes the orchestral flourishes mar his vision, the excessive, almost schizo blending of styles and genres achieved by the strings and horns here would be a recurring theme on most of the band's best work to come.
The album did nothing professionally for the boys, leading to no money, no tours, and a cloud of disappointment that caused all the non-Marchello members to leave the band. However there were at least two things that resulted from the Kapp LP that made some impact. Most importantly the press the band got legitimized the pursuit of Rock & Roll in their mother's eyes (important for a band living at home and practicing in the basement). On the more ridiculous tip, a billboard of the cover art, with the boys hanging off the tail of a huge rat, appeared around New York, and had to quickly be removed because neighbors complained that there's nothing funny about a 50 foot picture of a rat!
Mickey and Peppi (referred to in the 'hood as Heckle and Jeckyl for their jet black hair they had straightened) went through numerous Good Rats over the next few years trying to assemble a group with some chemistry. Eventually they met bass player Lenny Kotke who brought with him a great guitar player Mike Raff, and a college boy drummer Joe Franco. Though Raff was a strong guitarist who drew positive attention to the band, Peppi recalls, "he just didn't have any brains in his head. My brother eventually had to beat him up and send him on his way."
"Mike Raff just had to go, this guy was unbelievable. On the hottest day of the year we were waiting in my basement for practice, and he never showed up, never called. Finally we got him on the phone, he said, 'It's really hot today I went out to get an air conditioner.' 'I know it's hot, were down here for five hours, it's a hundred degrees, you couldn't call and say I can't make it?' You know this guy thought he was a real tough guy from Brooklyn. Mickey beat the hell out of him and the guy was crying."
The apparently not so tough Raff was soon replaced by John "The Cat" Gatto, "this perfect guitar player, real good guy," and the lineup for the rest of the decade was in place. The Rats began gigging constantly, developing a huge fan base and honing their skills considerably. Soon the Rat style was established. What differentiates them from many of their '70s contemporaries is that at the heart of everything they did, no matter how poetic or self-important it might get, the Rats were regular guys. Their shows didn't climax with lasers and explosions but with Peppi emptying a garbage can of rubber rats into the crowd. These were guys you would drink a beer and watch a game with (Peppi swinging a baseball bat on stage and playing it like an air guitar, or tossing around an oversized football build on this sports fan theme). They earned a rep for jamming onstage, but not in an 'artistic' Prog Rock way or like the over-serious Grateful Dead, they kept it playful and lively for the blue collar Rock fan. Most importantly, they were never pretty boys; the Good Rats wallowed in their "ugliness," playing in street clothes, with beards and long hair...but never looking like hippies. Peppi, wore his unkempt mane at every length imaginable over the years, sometimes topped by a wool cap with the words "Rat On!" Most memorably, Mickey grew his beard as long and bushy as mountain man while keeping his hair short. Though their music often related to the grandness of the Glam stadium acts, if you even suggested these guys wear makeup or tights you'd likely face the fate of "Tough Guy" Mike and his air conditioner. The ugliness was driven home by Peppi's signature stage schtick - - - he'd yell at and abuse the audience viciously, to their undying delight.
Their antics, look and sound drew attention. "Eventually we ran into a guy who was working at a radio station and selling drugs. He knew people at Warner Brothers and then, believe it or not, Warner Brothers records signed us and we did the Tasty record."
Their great fortune was hard for the boys to believe, and they were sure they were on easy street from then on. "Warner Brothers records? Bugs Bunny? That was the most impressive thing to me about Warner Brothers. They had drawn this great looking rat and put him next to Bugs Bunny. What kid wouldn't think he'd arrived. Bugs Bunny and Good Rats together on a t-shirt?"
Tasty (Warner Brothers 2813, 1974) had sleeve art featuring that "great looking rat," a grotesque cartoon rodent bloated on delicious garbage. Despite the comical cover, this was a very serious endeavor for the boys, one that Peppi and his Rat brethren still consider their crowning glory. Moving away from the raw Garage foundation of their debut, the Rats were now a bizarre combination of Prog, Boogie, Jazz-Fusion, Uptown, Big Band and Bar Rock. Having honed their skills with non-stop gigging they were super tight with Mickey and "The Cat" playing twin leads. Peppi still keeps it dumb at times just to remind you what they look like, but most of the album features poetic, literate lyrics, the best poetry being about Rock & Roll itself (including "Songwriter," a tearjerker where Peppi tells it like it is about telling it like it is). In addition to his songwriting skills, this album also really demonstrates what's great about Peppi's voice. It sounds rough and gruff like a been-there/done-that Bluesman (or the English equivalent thereof) but it also has a cleanness and sensitivity that infuses even the rockers with the heart tugging power of a love-song. The best tune on the album, "Fireball Express" could have easily been a coarse, thundering Rock Monster if Bruce Dickinson or Rob Halford sang it. But with Peppi's voice it maintains that urgency and power while keeping a patina of class shining all over the tune. Mind you, this isn't an album about classiness, it's about nastiness...but it's about nastiness with class! Rolling Stone praised them as "musicians in a time when non-musicians (The Dolls) are thought of as brilliant." Of course, Robot Hull in Creem said pretty much the opposite, but the way Creem reviews were written he probably never took the shrink wrap off.
Unfortunately the tenure at Warners was brief. After a short West Coast tour (where they met and jammed a version of Billy Cobham's "Stratus,"with Tommy Bolin, as heard on The Tommy Bolin Archives: Bottom Shelf, Vol. 1 [TBACD 3, 1996]) they returned home to find that they had been dropped. "We had the reputation of being either the East Coast Doobie Brothers or the New York's Grateful Dead because of the loyalty of our fans. Tasty got tremendous reviews and was starting to catch on, then they just said, 'this is under a certain amount of sales,' and dropped us. So we were devastated. That was the first time I was devastated, finding out we were dropped by a label. I've been devastated many times since."
"People think when they get a record deal they have it made, you haven't made it until the check has cleared and people all over recognize you. We eventually got the rights back to Tasty and reissued it many many times," including an LP with a hotter mix, (Ratcity RCR8002, 1979), "and Tasty always does great for us."
Unlike the aftermath of their previous disappointing record label experience, this time the Rats were stronger and more united, and became committed to a Do it Yourself attitude if labels wouldn't help them. This was fueled by rocking huge crowds every night of the week. Locally they played clubs like My Father's Place, the 2,000 capacity Hammerheads, CBGB's, and The Bottom Line. There were countless other places to rock in New York state, Jersey and Connecticut. To a band today it's hard to believe that an unsigned act could play to a thousand people regularly and be considered a bar band, but the 1970s were a magical age. "You see it was a different world physically. There were a lot more people at the age of partying. There are many more Baby Boomers than there are Generation X-ers. Number one, we were dealing with baby boomers. Number two, the drinking age was 18, now it's 21. Number three, the cops used to look the other way, and now they're looking for you. This was a time when everybody was partying. We were working six or seven nights a week, primarily in the Tri-State area. This is the most populated area in the country, and any direction four hours from where we live, we could still get home that night and not run up big bills. You know I have a family and I wanted to come home at night and sleep in my own bed with my wife. So we were able to do very, very well, play bigger clubs, and we played every night."
In '75 they started looking around again and got the attention of Danny Goldberg, "a big muckedy muck" who at one point was a publicist for Led Zeppelin. The Rats also eventually became involved with David Sonnenberg, Meatloaf's manager. The new management couldn't help them get interest from record labels, but encouraged them to start their own. Ratcity Records became viable when Peppi's Soulful voice helped them land a distribution deal with Platinum, a Black label out of New Jersey that scored with Shirley and Company's disco hit "Shame, Shame, Shame." "They had a fight with Shirley and brought me in to sing on the follow up, 'I Like To Dance,' "(Platinum/Vibration VI-542, 1976). "Topless dancers used to come up to me and say, 'Oh yeah, we dance to that all the time.'" Peppi's foray into disco/lap dance music helped get their third album heard 'round the world, Ratcity/Platinum's Ratcity In Blue (Rat City/Platinum RCR 8001, 1976).
The album opens with the mighty "Does It Make You Feel Good," a Rock and Roller that brings to mind the best Peter and Ace KISS material. Peppi's raspy, Soulful vocals compliment the heavy pop grooves, and as a bonus he rhymes "cigarette wrapper" with "venus flytrapper." The rest of the album is a bizarre collage that goes from "Boardwalk Slasher," which sounds like a Journey song about a serial killer, to the title track, which sounds like a Manhattan Transfer tune about heroin. At points the album can be very accurately described as Boogie Prog, which is an amazing achievement. The ballads, the tributes to high and low culture (Bach, Bowie and Bogart are all name checked) and the hooks are all on point here. "Writing The Pages" is a three minute tune about the Hitler's inner dialogue during the one second between the bullet entering his head and death. Not average bar band subject matter, huh? Completing the package, the cover art, featured a classy rat in top hat and tails against the NYC skyline and the dustsleeve featured a pizza with the Good Rats' ugly mugs as pepperonis!
The Rats toured the country on that album, attracted more attention, and their skills and management's clout eventually scored a deal with Passport Records, which was distributed by Arista. For their next album they even had some "big names" produce. Well, maybe not big names, but great ones: Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan a/k/a Flo and Eddie!
The association with Flo and Eddie was a natural one; both acts dealt with absurdity while fully respecting the sanctity of Rock and Roll, and both acts could really sing harmonies. It also represented a potential breakthrough for the Rats. Despite sharing with the Rats non-Teen Idol looks, Flo and Eddie had conquered two arenas that Marchello and Co. hungered for. As the Turtles they achieved legitimate Rock star chart success, with the perpetual royalties that go along with it. Working with Frank Zappa they also knew the ins and outs of international, sustained cult appeal, something that exists many rungs above being able to pack Tri State area showcase rooms. While that circuit provided good short-term money (Flo and Eddie were surprised to see the Rats pulling in more dough then they were) it was definitely time to take it to another level. The optimistically titled From Rats to Riches (Passport S9825, 1978, released on Radar in England) was hopefully going to do just that.
While Peppi stands behind Tasty, I have to back Rats To Riches as the classic lineup's finest recorded moment. The Flo and Eddie production must be providing a little something extra, as this is a super fun, ridiculous slab of Rock and Roll voodoo. The sweet sounding "Just Found Me A Lady" and the rockin' rollercoaster "Mr. Mechanic" (both released as singles) are two of their best tunes ever. "Taking It To Detroit" is a postmodern reconfiguration of "Detroit Rock City" (that actually mentions KISS' tune in the lyrics), "Coo Coo Coo Blues" is fun as hell, and "Victory In Space" manages to work in references to both Great Neck and Entenmanns baked goods!
The two most powerful songs lyrically have pretty good narratives behind them. "Don't Hate The Ones That Bring You Rock & Roll" was actually written for another 'Winning Ugly' NY area club act, Twisted Sister. The song is a plea to hecklers to appreciate the truly important folks. "Hate your mommies, hate your daddies...hate the rich oil companies...but don't hate the ones who bring you rock & roll!" The verses feature epithets hurled at the band by player hater "fans," including lyrics like, "Son of a bitch...prancing around like a goddam faggot." Twisted guitarist Jay Jay French was uncomfortable with the harsh language, so the tune, which actually works the words "twisted sisters" into the lyrics, ended up staying with the Rats. "I said to them, 'you guys are the bad boys of rock and roll and you're afraid to sing these lyrics?'" Peppi chuckles recalling the incident. "Dee Snider was watching us for nine years before he started yelling and cursing at the people like I was."
The other interesting song on Rats to Ritches is "Dear Sir." The distribution deal they signed had Arista handling the album, and Peppi knew from the start that Clive Davis didn't know what the hell to do with the Good Rats. "We were never an Arista band. Who was the Michael Bolton before there was a Michael Bolton? Barry Manilow! Clive Davis knew that kind of stuff. He didn't know our songs, and we weren't about to change." "Dear Sir" is a musical open letter to Davis, ("I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo than change my songs for you").
The Rats were soon enjoying a tremendous industry buzz, and more great reviews, but again nothing happened. Seemingly Davis did drop the ball at that point, mishandling the band's career, releasing the wrong singles, mucking up the promotions. But perhaps they were the victims of a self fulfilling prophesy...what do you expect a man to do when you call him out on your record?
When the nutty approach didn't make them superstars the decision was made to go serious. Peppi had been working on a play about a counselor in an old age home who begins to resent the old people he fears becoming and his children who he can't be. The Rats management decided to morph the material into a concept album about the different stages of life. Goldberg and Sonnenberg listened to over 100 Peppi penned tunes and hand picked what they felt were the top ten. Sonnenberg arranged for the Rats to open for Meatloaf at Hammersmith in England and then do some recording for the new album at the Who's Rampart Studios. With the lavish production and tasteful material combined with good management, promotion, booking and distribution the new album was the Rats best chance yet, or so it seemed.
Unlike previous albums, Birth Comes To Us All (Passport PB9830, 1978) features cover art that is subdued and "classy," with a painting of a newborn baby's foot on the front and photos of the Rats as Greek busts matched with their pastel tinted baby pictures on the back. The dust sleeve features a photo of adolescent Rat-To-Be Gene Marchello. Not the strongest Rats album, Birth nonetheless has its highlights, including the Queen-like "Juvenile Song," the Rockin' & Rollin' "School Days" and "City Life" a Billy Joel reminiscer that sounds like a radio hit. And of course "Man On A Fish" is the tune that makes the Harley riders weep. But overall the package removed from the Rats what made them the Rats...tastelessness, crudeness and ugliness. This was a band that insulted the audiences and threw rubber rats like footballs...all of a sudden they were sensitive? While Peppi had always mixed in literate songwriting with the nuttiness, this swung the scales way too far towards Maturity.
Though they performed the material to a crowd of 3,000+ at a triumphant charity concert at the Palladium (in which little Gene made his stage debut), Birth would, again, not be the breakthrough they waited for. Some critics praised it, but the Village Voice's lambasting (calling it "fatally tasteful" while hoping the Rats "don't piss away the emotional credibility they earned" as never-say-die Bar Rockers) may have been closer to the opinion of many Rats Fans. Needless to say the record didn't deliver the Rats to the mainstream, and soon after its release the Rats were once again divorced from a major label..
Also in 1978, back when labels did such things, Passport released a promo only live LP, Rats The Way You Like It (Passport SP20, 1978). The LP was recorded in Rochester, which in some ways would become to the Rats what Detroit was to KISS, a home away from home in a town where the fans and the club treated them like heroes. The rare album was much different from the sensitive Birth.
Their last big shot blown the Rats were on their own again and they went to where they were loved...the clubs. For evidence of their rock prowess check out the self released Live at Last (Ratcity, RCR 998, 1980), a double LP recorded at My Father's Place in Roslyn, a showcase room where Bruce Springsteen, U2, and the Police played to modest crowds on the way up. "It was the type of place where you see a band and six months later you see them at the Coliseum...unless they were the Good Rats. The Ramones opened up for us, Blondie, the Talking Heads. Cyndi Lauper, The Cars. There was a time that everyone that opened up for us became big stars within a year. We tried to figure out how we could open up for ourselves." The way this confident album sounds it's hard to believe the band had such self-doubts. Recorded raw enough to capture the live energy but slick enough to showcase the tight harmonies this is as good a document of the crowd pleasing live madness of the classic Good Rats as you'll find. It was also the end of an era as the "original" Rat lineup decided to call it quits, and Peppi and Mickey had to draw from the locals to fill out the Rat lineup for the first time since the early 70s.
In 1981 they released what would be their last LP for almost two decades, Great American Music (Gr Amer GAR 8003, 1981). Though the classic lineup is gone, Bruce Kulick (who played with Michael Bolton and then spent over 15 years in KISS) on guitar and Skyler Deal on bass replaced Lenny and John, and provided a lot of "umph." Despite the presence of new Rats, many Rats fans really dig this record, evidence that Peppi's songwriting is what makes the Rats the Rats. Rolling Stone gave Great American Music a glowing review, saying they finally captured their live energy in the studio. Peppi's songwriting is solid on this, and rather than going the concept album route this LP is an exercise is "write what you know." "Great American Music Halls," "Audience" and "Rock and Roll Point of View" are all sublimely rock about rock (Village Voice once derisively said that Peppi's most moving works deal "with his anger that nobody's buying his records").
Of course the band was still playing out constantly, but the chemistry wasn't there. Kulick's heart wasn't in it (he later complained he felt like a hired hand with little creative input, a role he played without complaints, but with a lot more compensation, with KISS) and the band took it's biggest blow when Mickey decided he had enough. A parade of local up-and-comers filled in, including George Tevitt and Randy Colvin. But things weren't really working out.
And here is where the story takes an interesting "Twist." The early 80s saw one of the Good Rats' contemporaries, Twisted Sister, get a chance after a decade of toiling the same Tri-State bar circuit. They became multi-platinum sellers, partially with the help of Peppi's obnoxious influence on Dee, and it was time for the bands to help each other out again. The Good Rats came to Twisted's rescue by providing a new drummer, former Good Rat Joe Franco. Twisted's helping hand to Peppi would be much more profound.
Record exec Jason Flom championed Twisted Sister and became influential at Atlantic for it (he's riding high again today with Lava Records and Kid Rock). Jason asked Twisted Sister, if they knew anybody that wrote great songs, and Twisted recommended Peppi. Jason loved what he heard and Peppi remarkably ended up getting his own solo record deal without auditioning on the strength of the songs.
Peppi hit the studio recording his album and also was put to work writing and producing Atlantic's recent signing, light-Metal chick Fiona's debut album Fiona (Atlantic 81242-1, 1985). Interesting side note: Fiona must have had a rodent fetish because her next producer was Ratt's Beau Hill. Peppi also went Hollywood as a track he worked on with Fiona appeared in the film and soundtrack LP for the 1984 Demi Moore vehicle "No Small Affair"
After the Fiona record was released to moderate success Atlantic president Doug Morris took Peppi in his office and praised his work, played him some unreleased tracks by new signing Julian Lennon (dating Fiona at the time), and acted like Peppi had the keys to the castle.
"I told my wife, 'I'm in!' I couldn't even dream of getting a guy like Morris, the president of Atlantic, on the phone, and now he's calling up my house this is amazing." But it wasn't amazing for long. Morris ultimately decided Peppi was too old and his look wouldn't cut it.
The record was never released, but somehow the tapes went over to CBS. Someone at Epic called Peppi and revealed that he was a Good Rat fan. He set up a showcase. Peppi wasn't gigging with the Good Rats when he was producing Fiona and involved in the "solo-deal," so the showcase couldn't feature the Rats. However, he performed every now and then under a different moniker that would lead to the next bizarre chapter in Ratstory.
"What happened was we did a thing called Pop's a Rocker with me a nd Gene." Gene Marchello, last seen as a bowl cut coifed adolescent on the Birth dust sleeve, was now a hot lickin' axeman in his own right. His Van Halen/Randy Rhodes/Yngwie chops were a marvel to behold, and the novelty of the Father/Son act was a good one, especially considering the regular guy/family man foundation that much of Peppi's work is based upon. When the Epic bigwig came to see Peppi's album performed live, Pop's A Rocker was the band he saw.
"The Rat fan from Epic brought down his boss who looked at me and said the guy's an old guy but the kid's a great looking kid, so he ended up giving Gene the record deal. Had it been a stranger I woulda been like so jealous. I just shrugged my shoulder and said, 'It's my son!'"
Since the Good Rats might be considered fundamentally the work of the sole songwriter Peppi, had his solo album come out it would have essentially been a Good Rats record. But now the exact set of songs he recorded for Atlantic was being re-recorded by Gene with some 80s Heavy Metal polish on it, and production by Peppi. The band's name was Marchello, but if you want to get theoretical about it, it's not far fetched to call it a Good Rats album.
Marchello released Destiny (CBS, ZK 45096, 1989) at the decade's end, and it arguably featured the last great Metal album cover; a painting/collage of a half rock-slut/half demon standing on a pedestal in a postmodern post-apocalypse landscape. The only thing missing was an ornate Metal logo, as sadly "Marchello" was spelled out in plain white type. The album was light if you think of it as Metal, but if you consider it as a morphed Rats record it's heavy on guitar wizardry. Though some Ratty absurdity survived ("Heavyweight Champion of Love," "Rock N' Roll Rumble") for the most part this is played straight, delivering a solid slab of rock for the kids. The album was well received by Metal fans who didn't mind some Journey with their Yngwie. "First Love" was the MTV video (and a grass roots hit), and the band got to open for Ozzy, Extreme and others during their run. Though Peppi had pretty much completely crafted the album, Gene was heavily involved in writing the follow up when the Grunge ax fell.
As the 90s bloomed all hair bands were trimmed for the Seattle moaners and Gene got dropped the night the U.S. invaded Iraq. "The second Marchello record we did with Sony, I wrote half, Gene wrote the other half, and they got the guy who did Firehouse to produce it. They spent like $300,000 dollars on it, and then they bring in a new guy named Griffith to the Epic side and he dropped Gene and 25 other artists. We worked three years of our life on that record, we got a shot with the biggest record company in the world and they rip your soul out, your heart out. It's the nature of the business."
"I just had one of those careers, I'm looking forward to the second half..."
The second half may be well underway as the last few years have been pretty active for the Rats, with none of the Marchello boys needing day jobs. "After the Epic deal I said to Gene, 'Why don't you come and play with me again?' We've been playing ever since, and then Stefan joined the band a number of years ago playing drums. They both lived through the Mickey syndrome. In other words, Miki was playing with me when he was 15 years old, Gene was playing with me when he was 14 and Stefan joined when he was 15. So it was always my underage brother, underage sons plying with me."
The most significant Rat development since the reformation was the recording and self-releasing a new album, Tasty Seconds (Uncle Rat Music, GRTS 0001, 1996). The CD is a great showcase for the talents of Peppi and Gene, and the disc is rounded out with a guest appearance by old Rat Bruce "no hard feelings" Kulick. "Cover of the Night" is a mighty rock anthem, "Thunder Rocks My Soul" is a gruff Blues-er, "Football Madness" is absurd Jock Rock, and "Major Minor Chord" delivers like one of the old time complex Rat-sterpieces. Throughout the album Peppi's rough hewn vocals and (theoretically) commercial songwriting chops are all in full effect, and this is surprisingly potent album.
In 1998 the "original" lineup (Peppi, Mickey, Kottke, Franco and "The Cat") reunited in a Rochester biker bar for a 25th Anniversary show (a bit of "fuzzy math," as the 2000 presidential candidates might say). The rubber rats were flying and the baseball bat air guitar was in full effect.
As the new century dawned they've kept busy with the European release of Tasty Seconds (renamed Cover of Night, Frontiers/Now & Then FRCD 048, 2000), some new recordings for a new album (including the drinking anthem "Have Another Beer," which has garnered interest from beer companies and for which they shot a video) and some H-A-R-D touring.
"We're the hardest working band. You saw that beat up van out there, we drove 19 hour straight to Nashville, played two shows, somebody says we want you to play, if we can work it out well work it out. We play prisons in Pennsylvania, we did 18 in 22 days. You go in there and most of these guys haven't seen a Rock & Roll band in a long time. It's a tough, tough gig. We're not going to do a lot of Good Rats stuff, though we do the "Beer" song and they love it. We'll do Sabbath, that's what some of them want, but primarily the prisoners are Black, so you're playing for guys that don't like Rock & Roll to begin with. We were walking through a cellblock it looked like the TV show "Oz," and a guy came up to me and said, 'You got nerve coming in here without any women in the band,' because what do you think they're going to be doing that night? We played a girl's prison and I said to the guys, 'How do you like it, you're going to be in their sexual thoughts tonight.' Only the Good Rats would do gigs like this. It's pretty hard for the band members to bitch and moan, though, because two of the guys are still living under my roof."
Even more unusual than a Lockdown Tour is Ratstock. "Because so many of our fans have been around so many years they have children of all ages, guys have been married three times they have two year old sons and thirty year old sons. And they all tell me they play our music and their kids all sing the songs, 'hate your mommies, hate you daddies,' 'Coo Coo Coo Blues,' goofy stuff like that. They'd like to bring the kids to see us but the shows are always in beat up bars, so we decided to do Ratstock, a campsite thing with two day of Rock & Roll. People show up with their families, we had 15 or 16 that came from Michigan last year. For me it's like being a guru, all the kids run up and say, 'There's Peppi, there's Peppi!' because they know my songs. It's a great feeling. Each year it gets bigger and better...this year is Ratstock III. Ratstock is the only place where parents allow their children to sing a song like, 'Mean Motherfucker.' I tell the kids, 'You guys watch the WWF...come up on stage and when I say Mean Motherfucker you guys pose like your favorite wrestler.' It's the only time the parents say, 'Go crazy have a good time.' This might be the last Ratstock, though, if this new album takes off."
Which brings us back to the High Noon Saloon. In addition to fresh material they've recorded for their new CD, they've also been in the studio re-recording some old hard-rocking tracks, so Peppi has the band "debut" the song "Joey Ferrari" to the crowd. As they rip through the raucous punk portrait I'm overwhelmed with excitement...I can't believe I'm hearing the Good Rats play "Joey Ferrari!" In the afterglow of the song I hear the biker who welled up during "Man On A Fish" explain to the next barstool that the song came from their rare first LP, and I can't help but hope against hope that somehow "Have Another Beer," or the new album, or something down the pike really works out for The Good Rats. Sure Peppi's 15 years older than the last time they told him he was too old, sure Gene may not be over his Major Label snubbing, sure teen pop and Rage Rock are miles away from anything the Rats do, but it sure would be nice if something worked out. Then again, there's something nice about what they're doing right now. I see a hundred rock shows a year and this is one of the best I've seen in a long while, and the reaction from the Rat faithful to the Marchellos is REAL! No matter what happens next and no matter what happened during the last 35 years, when you see the loyalty and love and joy the fans bring to the Good Rats it's hard to conclude that their tale is anything but a Rock & Roll success story.
Check out www.goodrats.com for more info.