Hilton Valentine and the NYC Garage Scene

While the news of Hilton Valentine‘s passing a few weeks ago was a somber reminder that no matter how timeless The Animals‘ songs were, the clock is always running. On the less somber side, it also reminded me of what an honest, kind, and gentle person Valentine was to both fans and other musicians. Having weathered the London scene of the mid-60s, Valentine was no stranger to unfettered adulation and its assorted trappings at an early age. However, to his credit, once fame faded away, he continued performing original music and even formed a skiffle group in his later years to delve back into the music that inspired him all those years ago. Relocating to Wallingford, Connecticut, in 1997, he even graciously found time to talk and even perform songs from his Animals days with admiring fans.

Hilton cutting loose onstage with The Animals. Courtesy and ©HiltonValentine.com 2001.

The Animals were always held in high esteem by garage punk fans everywhere. While the nostalgia circuit bands were content to churn out “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” the edgier young bands in the garage scene picked “I’m Cryin” or “Boom Boom Boom” as a gritty homage to their heroes.

New York’s Secret Service performing The Animals’ I’m Cryin’ in 1986.

Even as the 80s moved into the 90s, it was not uncommon to hear a band take on a song from The Animals’ vast catalog. In some way, it was almost a rite of passage. One of those bands was The Lynchpins. A clever portmanteau of leader Michael Lynch’s unique name.

The Anything People 2010 CD Anythology.

While Michael is probably not as well known outside of the NY/NJ area, his uncanny musical ability (and talent) are well known among garage music fans in this area. Among Micheal’s many amazing achievements is writing for Ugly Things magazine, performing at various International Pop Overthrow events, fronting The Anything People and The Lynchpins, and even playing sideman to literally hundreds of other musicians such as Palmyra Delran. So it was only natural to find yourself seeing a Michael project at some point.

One particular evening at a performance space under the Acme Restaurant on Great Jones Street (titled appropriately enough UnderAcme), The Lynchpins found themselves on yet another bill. After they performed a bunch of originals to a group of very appreciative (if slightly tipsy) friends, they suddenly introduced a guest performer. To everyone’s surprise, that person turned out to be Hilton Valentine. And, while it was certainly shocking to see a 60s icon standing right in front of you, to hear those songs come out of his guitar was beyond description.

Hilton Valentine & Doug Mayer performing
Hilton Valentine and Doug Mayer of the Lynchpins at UnderAcme, NYC. June 15, 2002.

I asked Michael’s bandmate in both The Lynchpins and The Anything People, Doug Mayer, recently his thoughts about Valentine and how that whole performance came about.

A poster for Bompstomp June 15, 2002. The night Hilton Valentine played with the Lynchpins. Poster courtesy of Doug Mayer.

“I’m not 100% sure if it was Michael or Lynchpins drummer Elliott Goldberg who contacted Hilton who was living in Connecticut at the time (June 2002). Since Michael was planning a 1960s music fest at Acme Underground, I’m pretty sure he was the main impetus behind asking Hilton to participate.  Philadelphia’s Mondo Topless was on that bill, but the rest of the acts were not as well known. While Michael designed the poster, the main illustration of The Rolling Stones is actually taken from a mid-1960s teen magazine. One name notably absent from the gig poster is Hilton Valentine himself. I suppose we were not entirely sure if he would be able to make it, and so we did not update the poster in time. We did write down ‘Special Guests?’ just in case.

“Much to our delight, he did accept, and we went full speed ahead with preparations. Prior to the gig, Michael, Hilton, and I (as a power trio!) rehearsed once at a Long Island rehearsal studio and went over the three songs Hilton agreed to do with us: ‘I’m Crying,’ ‘Baby Let Me Take You Home’ (which Hilton introduced at UnderAcme as a Dylan song The Animals modified), and ‘Outside Looking In.’ For the show, Hilton requested a large Vox amplifier to use on stage. Michael rented this for Hilton and returned it the same night to the gear rental place.

“Hilton was very friendly with us before the show and unassumingly sat in the back of Acme Underground with his wife, eating a sandwich he brought to the gig. We were respectful with our guest and didn’t bother him with too many questions or recollections about his old Animals days. He was so down to earth that seeing him hanging out in person seemed very familiar in a funny way.

Hilton Valentine and Doug Meyer at UnderAcme, NYC June 15, 2002.

“After the show, Elliott drove him back to the train. Hilton actually complimented us on our playing as a group, and that felt really nice to hear! A year or two later, I noticed he had started his own website for his music projects, and he posted a bunch of the photos that you had taken of the gig. It felt cool to know that he seemed happy to have done the gig. 

“Overall, my big impression of Hilton that night we played on the same stage was his professionalism, experience, and showmanship. He told each of us exactly where would be a good place to stand on the stage while he played with us. But, he didn’t say it in a bossy or condescending manner. More like an older brother who knew what would be best for us. I was lucky to be standing the closest to him and playing the only other stringed instrument on stage (a bass guitar). There definitely were moments where I felt both of us were communicating visually and emotionally on stage.

“The other big impression I had is related to Hilton’s guitar playing style and tone. There was something about his level of experience from the rock and roll past that gave him a monster tone and feel on the electric guitar. I was listening to some early Animals albums recently and was thinking again how his playing is just as good as anything Keith Richards did back then, and how it was a shame that Hilton did not get more recognition overall. He could still produce that sound live.”

Hilton Valentine, Doug Mayer, Eliott Goldberg (hidden), and Michael Lynch at UnderAcme, NYC. Note the makeshift stand under Eliott’s snare drum. Photo: ShakeSomeAction.nyc.

Doug’s bandmate Michael had an even more amusing anecdote about the show. Especially when I asked if that really was a stool standing in for a snare drum stand in some of my photos. “HAHA! Yes, that was Elliot! He forgot to bring his snare stand, and no one else was around to ask—or willing to offer one. So, he just grabbed the nearest barstool and asked the soundman to boost the highs on the snare.”

Hilton Valentine 30th Ann
Hilton Valentine at The Headless Horsemen’s 30th Anniversary show, November 5, 2017, at Brooklyn Bowl, NYC.

While that was a welcome surprise, little did any of us realize that Valentine would reappear not once but several times in the following years performing Animals hits with NYC garage veterans The Headless Horsemen. I asked Elan Portnoy for his thoughts on the passing of Hilton as well as how he came into their orbit.

“It’s never easy when you lose a friend. Although sadness threatens to overshadow the magic they contributed to your life, you take solace in the memories made while they were still here. In that way, they live eternally in our hearts and minds. My friendship with Hilton shines brightly in my treasure chest of musical and personal memories and will surely maintain its glimmer for the remainder of my life.

The Moving Sidewalks’ Cavestomp! show where Elan met Hilton Valentine.

“I met Hilton backstage at B.B. King’s in NYC when The Headless Horsemen shared the bill with The Moving Sidewalks in 2013. Amid the thick dressing room chaos, I could immediately sense Hilton was an extra-cool cat; meeting him was momentous for me. When he later called and invited The Headless Horsemen to play his 70th birthday celebration, I was thrilled and honored. Hilton’s wife, Germaine, put together an amazing party. At the shindig, Hilton jumped onstage for a bunch of tunes with us, and I flashed back to when I was about nine, playing House of the Rising Sun with my first band. Hilton was much more than a guitar idol to me; he was also gigantic in his coolness and kindness, always optimistic and a true English gentleman at all times.

Headless Horsemen and Hilton Valentine
Hilton Valentine, David Ari, Peter Stuart, and Elan Portnoy performing at Cavestomp, November 23, 2013, The Bowery Electric, NYC.

“Hilton joined The Headless Horsemen onstage once again at The Bowery Electric where we played a whole set of Animals’ numbers together. As we played, he and I glanced at each other and smiled while the magic flowed through our hands and into our guitars; it was one of those perfect moments that will replay in my head, in slow-motion, forever. Several weeks before Hilton left this world, my band The Overdrive Five had the honor of collaborating with him. Hilton played ‘Apache’ in his first band and with us. Our version will be released as soon as the final touches have been touched. ‘Am, C, D, F’ should be on his stone. Hilton passed away on the exact day my dad would have turned 100. Tough day for me.”

Gone too soon: Roy Loney and Hilton Valentine at The Headless Horsemen’s 30th Anniversary show, November 5, 2017, at Brooklyn Bowl, NYC.

So, while the media world will eulogize Hilton for his well-deserved reputation as one of the architects of the 60s London R&B scene, the majority of us here in NYC who met him will remember him as that very kind person who was only too happy to make our dreams come true. Thanks again, Hilton.

A Good Man

While the late 80s/early 90s was a time that defined a lot of things that this site likes to commemorate, none of it would have existed if not for the incredible personalities that mingled during that time.

Sandy Darling was one of those wonderful people who came into the NYC scene like much of us did… via pals. And like most of us, she too found a home away from home within its insular little world. Starting as a young music fan, Sandy gravitated to the garage scene by the early 90s. Even learning to play bass and perform in a short-lived NYC female garage band called Starkist. But mainly Sandy was …just Sandy. Befriending all and being the bright sparkler in a sea of roman candles.

While perusing a social feed last night I came across a small eulogy written by her about the passing of an ex, NYC musician, and artist Charles E. Hall. Sandy penned a wonderful tribute that not only related her feelings but also perfectly described life, love, music, and friendship in the East Village in the early 90s.

With Sandy’s kind permission, I am reprinting it here. A more heartfelt and honest retelling of being young in Manhattan at that time I cannot recall. Her words and feelings not only give life to something many of us experienced but also serves as a wonderful tribute to a person that was dear friends with many in the scene. I’ll leave this in Sandy’s more than capable hands.

SANDY D.: Charles Hall passed away yesterday. Charles E. Hall. He was a kind, smart, and funny man who will be missed greatly. I know this because I already miss him. I would run into him every couple of years, chat for a bit, and later be sad that I didn’t have that pleasure in my life more regularly. But you know…life is weird with exes.

I first crossed paths with Charles in the late eighties. His band regularly played Joey Ramone’s events. We formally met while filming the video for “Merry Christmas I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight“. Charles was wearing the greatest sweater ever – a vintage American flag ski sweater. We entertained each other and shared laughs. He was fascinated by the automated revolving plastic wrap on the public toilet. He talked about it so much that the director incorporated it into the shoot. (Sadly it was cut down to just show Santa puking in the toilet. No motor action!) We had a run-in at Venus Records the following summer and then a date night at a Raunch Hands show.

Charles and Sandy
Charles Hall and Sandy D. selfie. 35mm style. Photo courtesy Sandy Darling.

I fell for Charles the way a nineteen-year-old does anything – completely and intensely. Our shared sensibilities in regards to music, fashion, morality, and more were so meaningful to me at that time in my life. It was not a successful relationship. Inconsolable heartbreak at twenty-one fades into a numb memory by twenty-two. And then the rest of your life happens. The hurt that did stay with me was the loss of Charles’s friendship. I always felt I was at my best when responding to his quick wit. And he offered such a different but comforting perspective on the world. I always came away from conversations feeling enriched.

In many ways, Charles relished his privacy and autonomy, so it’s really odd to attempt to memorialize him here. Nevertheless, I feel that people should know a bit about him.

I remember that he didn’t eat bacon because he had grown up with a pet pig. I heard tales of the guitar store in Portland, Maine that his parents owned. He helped me scare my NYU roommate a bit so I could get the room to myself. He told me that had a Snoopy Club when he was a boy. He didn’t have an answering machine. I was confused by him not caring about the movie Grease because it had meant so much to me as a kid. He explained that while I was a six-year-old freaking out to “Greased Lightning”, he had been running away to see Patti Smith play. He kept a six-foot-long antique musket as protection. He was unfailingly polite.

We used to celebrate our vintage scores and occasionally share clothes. (I even got him to give me the American flag sweater!) I recall patchwork leather jackets (lots of greens & browns), my beloved brown suede platforms, striped vintage flares, square-toed engineer boots, super-wide low sling belts, and a glorious yellow Faces tee. I like to believe (against all logic) that I still have the giant vintage drinking glass festooned with misshapen smiley faces that we both bought. I know I have the stars & stripes goblet.

The East Village was the best playground you could ask for. We’d drink at 7A, Sidewalk, and King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, eat at Kiev, listen to George Jones at The Village Idiot, meet his vegetarian sister at Caravan of Dreams, buy cheap wine at the store on 4th & A, and so much more. I first started eating Indian food with Charles. Knowing me well, as soon as we sat down he told me, “Don’t even think about ordering the chicken vindaloo.” I believe he painted some lettering on the wall of the Ludlow Street Cafe. When he finally got his storefront apartment, there was no electricity so for months he ran an extension cord up to his neighbor Ed’s apartment. Life was creative and carefree.

Devil Dogs crowd shot
Charles at a Devil Dogs show at Coyote Studios in Williamsburg. Photo courtesy of Sandy Darling.

The soundtrack to those years always featured the greatest rock’n’roll. I cared so deeply about that then! Certain artists will always make me think of Charles. 1910 Fruitgum Company, Slade, Shocking Blue, The Flamin’ Groovies. Being in Charles’s 5th Street apartment (a former storefront that used to store hot dog carts and is now a high-end hamburger restaurant) was an experience for all the senses. It felt like the album “Teenage Head” sounds. Charles taught me to play bass. Well…he taught me how to play “Blitzkrieg Bop” and “Strychnine” which was more than enough to enable me to figure the rest out on my own. And downstrokes! Always downstrokes. I still have the gorgeous Mosrite he sold me for a song.

Cliff Mott and Charles Hall
Cliff Mott and Charles Hall. Photo courtesy of Sandy Darling.

There are so many magnificent and meaningful people that came into my life via Charles. I’m sure I would have encountered most of them on my own at some point, but there’s a sentimentality to the introductions. Foremost are some of the best artists I’m still blessed to know – Mort Todd, Cliff Mott, and Pat Redding. Charles lived with Mort on 7th Street. They had a long and storied history, and I adored soaking it up. There were so many projects from the days at Mort’s Cracked magazine to Mr. A, rock’n’roll comics, etc. Mort might have been one of the most fascinating people I had ever met! One of my favorite memories was going out to eat with Charles, Mort, and Cliff. I mainly just remember the buzz of comic brilliance. They talked art, so Mort wrote it off as a business expense. I ate an appetizer of chilled strawberry soup and couldn’t believe how sophisticated & awesome my life was.

A Cliff Mott Classic
Cliff Mott’s artwork for Ho-Dad Hootenanny.

In a beautiful full-circle way, all these characters turned out to be important in Joe’s (ed- Mighty Joe Vincent, Sandy’s husband) life as well. Cliff is a beloved friend and did art for both The Devil Dogs & The Gotham Rockets. Mort was practically the house artist at Crypt. And Pat designed t-shirts & panties for The Prissteens. I went to Tim Warren’s wedding with that crew. I barely knew Tim and didn’t belong there at all, but was so psyched to be hanging with the funniest coolest folks I knew. As a wonderful turn of events, the woman Tim married became a good friend and wound up at my wedding to Joe. Anyway, there were so many other great friendships forged in those days. The Maine garage rockers (Jon Horne and the Chalmers family) and Venus crew. Certain folks didn’t even work there but were still part of the tapestry. Rory, Howie, RatBoy, Alex, and Whitey are the main characters I recall. Whitey brought the rest of The Stiffs into both NYC and our lives. I wound up dating Donnie and living in Stiff Castle for a bit. And years later, Amazing Cherubs drummer Dee Pop lived with me & Joe. It’s a very insular rock’n’roll world. Anyway, there’s surely much more, but I should wrap up my rambling.

Forgive me if there are any factual flaws in my remembrances. I just wanted to share some of the thoughts rushing around in my brain. My point was mostly to paint of picture of a good man. One that was still incredible to know even after a bout of rejection. But also, perhaps, to encourage others to learn the lesson that I seem to need to be taught over and over again. Fight for the people you care about. Don’t let pride rule your actions. Or over-cautiousness. I wish I had pushed for a more active friendship with Charles. I never wanted to be a burden or make anyone uncomfortable. But I lost out on knowing someone whose presence will certainly be missed. Anyway, hug your friends. Oh right, it’s 2020. Tap an elbow, Zoom chat, send an emoticon. Get what you can. ❤️

Long Live the King

This is my first post in a long while here. There is a reason for that. A little over six months ago we lost a huge part of what I believe made the New York music scene as special as it was to many of us. And to be quite honest, celebrating this time and period in the mid-80s garage scene is quite hard without paying some sort of homage to this man.

On November 13, 2016 we lost record collector, fan, and musician Billy Miller. Billy took his pure love of rock n’ roll and created a world in which he and many, many, others could live in and enjoy. Starting very humbly with just a fanzine and an unending passion, he forged a path produced by his own fevered vision of a world where unsung musicians were lauded and rewarded with long-overdue praise.

So while it was well known amongst his closest friends that he was battling cancer, it was nevertheless a shock that to hear of his sudden passing. Since then, many many writers much more eloquent than myself have shared their views of his passing. All touching on some part of his life that made his very presence a pleasure to thousands around the world. From the New York Times obit, to Billboard magazine all the way to Lindsay Hogg’s impassioned blog post on his Next Big Things website. Its all covered.

So what could I add? Not much really. Just preaching to the choir at this point. Nevertheless, I am sure I feel the same hollow feeling inside that others do when they think about Billy. A feeling that cannot begin to match the one felt by his loving partner Miriam Linna. Loss is never easy. In fact, while the garage scene tends to focus on some aspect of loss…it is only because we never really understand it. Its a deep, shared, experience that humanizes all of us. Billy knew this. In fact, I am sure, somewhere, Billy is looking down and hoping we start a band…cause thats just the kind of guy he was. RIP good sir.