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. ❤️

Give Him a Hand: A Chat with Mike Mariconda

Airborne Mike: The Raunch Hands at Maxwells.

Gritty New York. You hear that term so often that its already become a worn out cliché. Nevertheless, out of the hundreds of bands that can rightfully claim the title of being one of those “gritty” NYC bands, The Raunch Hands were one of the few that encapsulated the whole dirty, sloppy, happy, sadness and madness of this little burg. Sure The Ramones did the same, but by the mid-80s, the “punk” musical climate was changing. Songs were speeding up and becoming more aggressive. Worst of all macho jocks had started to notice and transform the quaint pogo-ing at gigs into full fledged testosterone fueled slam pits. Into this world the Raunch Hands were born. Carrying a youthful swagger they mined the soulful R&B underbelly and spit it back out in a maelstrom of booze and good times. If the city was going to hell, might as well have fun doing it. Not only did they bring the party, the Hands also did what few other NYC groups were able to do. Get recognized throughout the world and yet, remain purely an underground band. Mssrs Chandler, Mariconda, Tchang, Sulley and Brnicevic (not to mention later members Edison, Crowley, & Linzell) kicked up an unholy mess that has yet to be equalled.

Mike Mariconda mixing it up in Italy. Courtesy Fabio Rizzo

I had a chance to chat with Michael Mariconda, guitarist of the RH, about those early years gigging in NYC.

SSA: Thanks Mike for taking a few moments to contribute your perspective on the garage scene in NYC. Naturally, my standard question for everyone is, how did you first hear about the scene?

MM: Basically, by getting the job at Venus Records in 1983. I was in contact with a lot of  musicians that were coming in looking for records of Garage Punk. The post-punk  new band scene was stale so all these great reissues started coming out. What do you do when the next crop of new bands suck? Go and listen to old records…and that’s exactly what happened. It wasn’t rare to have Jeff Conolly and The Lyres, members of The Vipers, Fuzztones, Chesterfield Kings, Lux and Ivy, Greg Shaw and even Billy Gibbons dropping by to see what was good and for sale. Also people like Tim Warren, Billy Miller, Bruce Planty and our drummer Vince Brnicevic were working on their first volumes of 60s punk comps (all influenced by Nuggets but with much wilder and obscure bands) – Back From The Grave, Hipsville, Open up Your Door and What a Way to Die– all at the same time.

Ad for Venus Records

And Venus was where my pal who was well known in collector circles brought me. How did you get that gig? I recall you already knew quite a bit about music. In fact the reason I bought a Stones 45 from you was because after playing it, you mentioned (correctly, I might add) that it had a hotter mix than the LP version.

I was lucky I got that job as there were a lot of applicants. I tried to sell myself to the owner  as knowing something about 50s R & B which I thought could be a market to sell to the Garage scene rather than just having another guy who was into Garage working there. Scott Curran hipped me to the idea of different mixes between mono and stereo LPs and French EPs or 45s pressed in various countries all sounded a little different. Added up to buying the same record 3 or 4 times.

The Raunch Hands on the Scott and Gary show. Episode 5. Courtesy Scott and Gary.

For people who aren’t familiar, only two record stores in NYC really became the epicenter of much of the garage scene. There were others, like Freebeing and Bleecker Bobs, but the garage-genre folks tended to congregate at either J.D’s Midnight Records or/and Crackers’ Venus Records. Can you tell me a bit about the characters who worked at Venus while you were there?

I always got along with everyone who worked there, Scott, Bruce, Ron Rimsite, Bobby Cook, John Kioussis and the owner Bill Shor all characters for sure but they all had beefs between themselves and all disliked the owner. But, in general, I always enjoyed the job since the musician in me was learning so much about music. Being there was no internet, the only way to try to find out about this stuff was through magazines and people to talk to.

I remember attending The Raunch Hands first gig at 240 West and quite honestly being unsure what to make of it. Only that I wanted to hear more. If I recall correctly did you play a fiddle at that gig for a song or two? Could be just a hallucination.

Yeah I was playing fiddle and lap steel on a few songs in 84-85. Kinda gave that up as it became too much to carry around and too delicate to play after beating the shit out of the guitar for an hour. And the lap steel got stolen right before a gig and I had no money to replace it.

Those early gigs were pretty memorable in that literally everyone seemed to be trashed, the band, the audience. It just basically turned into the wildest house party you were ever at. There was a particularly memorable 2 set night at The Dive close to its demise that I’ll never forget. In fact, your manager at the time came up to me during the show and asked me why I was taping it!

Memorable? Hehe. I don’t remember too much. Part of it was the NYC 4 am bar closing time. No one had a car so no reason to stay sober. Gave everyone a lot of time to get drunk watching 4 bands. I remember when we started going on last instead of first I really had to pace myself to be in reasonably good condition to play. Chandler never did.

Back From the Grave Vol 3.

Tim Warren including you on Back From the Grave Vol. 3 was a stroke of genius. Although we didn’t know it at the time, he instinctively knew you guys fit perfectly into the whole idea of his comps.

People were pretty shocked there was a new band on there, and it was an instrumental. Crypt luckily picked us up after we got booted off Relativity after the 2nd LP…that got us to Europe and Japan and prolonged the band for a number of years.

Set list for the Raunch Hands show at CBGBs on July 15, 1986.

The Hands stood alone in being the ultimate NYC band in terms of attitude, style and sound. Pretty soon others out side of the city started picking up on it. When did you get an inkling that this was starting to become more than just a local thing.

We never really had a concept when we started because we liked all kinds of music and wanted to try to incorporate all the styles we could. That confused a lot of people. Initially when I joined, the group was doing mostly Tchang and Chandler originals because the group didn’t have enough musical knowledge to try to cover a song, they always sounded terrible so they just wrote their own originals.

Chandler really had the pedigree coming from the Outta Place. His unique vocal spin on your R&B-based tunes really set the band apart from other bands who mined similar influences.

Yeah. We kinda stole him from The Outta Place, who I did like very much. We were fans of black R & B mostly. My favorite band in the mid 80s was Barrence Whitfield and the Savages. We started moving in that direction when Tchang started playing sax, so out went the fiddle and lap steel.

Business card size handout. Courtesy Dawn Eden.

I have to ask you who came up with the “Hello, I am a Raunch Hand” card. The hand gestures on the back are what totally make it. I think I still have my band T-shirt with those graphics on it.

I cant remember who came up with it but it was a great idea..Cool you still have the shirt, I do too but it doesn’t fit-not that I gained weight…it shrank!

Finally, in closing, I have to ask you about Billy Miller. While most people know him and Miriam for the Norton label, I don’t think many know how essential he was to the NY music community.  Especially around the time KICKS was their only main product. Personally, I feel his enthusiastic writing was what drew me more and more into discovering new sounds. And, if that wasn’t enough, he was a super-nice, wickedly clever guy. Everyone seems to have a unique story when it comes to Billy. What is your story?

Not one particular story but Billy was an amazing guy. Funny, easy going, great taste. I was lucky to have been asked to start The A Bones with him and Miriam and Mike Lewis and I was nervous as this was his follow up to The Zantees that had 2 amazing rockabilly guitarists The Statile Brothers so I had some big shoes to fill. I learned so much from Billy, always had the time to teach and share something about great old records. His death was tragic, a long painful one. So not deserved. His contribution to music was massive as was/is Tim Warren’s. Both of them have had a huge impact on my life.

Miriam Linna, Billy Miller, Link Wray, Tim Warren and Mike Mariconda. 1984. Courtesy Mike Mariconda.

To this day it’s still pretty amazing that people all over the world who appreciate garage music, in all its permutations, still fondly remember and appreciate The Raunch Hands. Despite all the good and bad things that happened that must be satisfying in some respects.

Yeah, very happy to see the music is still holding up, reaching new people and sounds a lot more spontaneous than a lot of recordings today.

Raunch Hands Gig Postcard

Thanks again Mike. And please, if the RH ever do another gig in this lifetime…you have to cover Hong Kong Missisippi it’s the ultimate RH song that never was.

We might have tried that at a rehearsal but sounded so crappy we gave up on it! A future RHs gig unfortunately will never happen, I have 2 fingers paralyzed on my left hand and Chandler is having a very slow recovery from his bout with cancer. However, I still continue to produce bands and even have a new project in the works.

Give a Hand to a Raunch Hand

Michael Chandler of the Raunch Hands
Michael Chandler of the Raunch Hands at The Palladium.

My first exposure to The Raunch Hands came at club directly across Roseland Ballroom on 52nd St called 240 West. As the show was sparsely-attended, it was not a surprise to find out that the club closed soon afterwards (eventually finding  a new life—albeit briefly—as the Lone Star Cafe Roadhouse.)

However on that night, the main attraction was a brash punk-y roots-y band that truly exemplified the term Rhythm and Booze. While the “cowpunk” genre was already on its way out, what made this band stand out was the howling, skinny, lead singer. The band was rough, and sloppy with an intense energy that burned. Upon inquiring, I found out that this was actually the bands first performance and that singer, Michael Chandler, was formerly a member of the famed Outta Place. That night began what was to become many a night spent catching this amazing group.

Through the years as Chandler went through different projects, he always remained humble, charming and a great person. The guy seemed invincible. Well, unfortunately that was not to be the case. Last year Mike was diagnosed with a rare form of neck cancer that necessitated aggressive treatment. Needless to say expenses mounted up. Which brings me to the point of this post.

If the music of Michael Chandler and the Raunch Hands, or Outta Place ever meant anything to you. Then, its your time to give back. Please visit Mike’s GoFundMe page and say thank you. Thank you for the smiles, the fun and the great times that his performances always accompanied.

Michael Chandler’s Cancer Recovery Page