by Chris Frantz
After a day in the studio, we would usually wander on foot down the road about a quarter of a mile to a truly marvelous spot called Traveller’s Rest, A Restaurant Truly Bahamian. Let me describe it to you. It was situated right across the road from the beach; you walked up a few concrete steps, opened the screen door and were transported into a relaxing Out Island experience. There were heavy wooden picnic tables and tables made of molded concrete, with beach glass mosaics of fish and octopus. The walls were covered with paintings by local artists and there was a painted mural on the wall of a brown-skinned man sitting in a sea-grape tree next to his boat. There was a bar stocked with many varieties of European beers and Caribbean rum. My personal favorites were St. Pauli Girl beer and Myer’s Rum. You could get just about any drink you wanted, but the house specialty was the fresh Banana Daiquiri, which we later realized had about as many calories as half of a banana cream pie, but was so delicious. The sound system played a great selection of Bahamian classics, reggae, and American Soul music. You could order conch or grouper or snapper or minced crawfish or ribs or pork chops or curried chicken, all served with coleslaw and peas and rice. With your dinner you got a salad with homemade dressing and most people agreed that the creamy garlic dressing was the best. You could relax here for hours and sometimes had to, because the service could be slow, especially on a busy night. We were on “island time” and that was okay by me. The clientele was a good mix of Bahamians and tourists and on Sunday afternoons there was live music by a band called De Changers, whose repertoire consisted of reggae, soca, and Bahamian Junkanoo. People would come from all parts of the island to hang out, drink, flirt, and dance. I can remember thinking to myself, on one of those hot Sunday afternoons while dancing close with Tina at Traveller’s, that life doesn’t get any better than this.
Another place we liked to go for dinner was the Pink Pussycat Club in downtown Nassau, where they served grilled steak, baked potatoes, and salad for six dollars until 2:30 in the morning. We were told that Winston Churchill loved the place and you could see why. It was in an old limestone colonial building where cigar smoke was heavy in the air and croupiers from the casinos would gather after work with their girlfriends to drink heavily. The place had the vibe of a pirate den, which I suppose it actually was.
During our days off, we all liked to go to the beach by our little bungalow. It was a popular tourist spot. Of course, nobody recognized us. We were still a relatively unknown band and, even if someone did know about Talking Heads, they wouldn’t expect to see us in our bathing suits on a beach in the Bahamas drinking Planter’s Punch.
One night after a mixing session, Chris Blackwell had a small party for us under the coconut trees on the patio of his rather modest British colonial style home. The other guests were mostly Bahamian artists and entrepreneurs like the drummer “Peanuts” Taylor, Ray Munnings, who cowrote and sang “Funky Nassau,” and Al Collie, a singer and club owner who was Chris’s Bahamian partner in the studio business. Tina and I sat for most of the night with Robert Palmer while he held his newborn son, Jim, in his arms. Robert and his darling artist wife, Sue, were living in a town house on the sea right across the road from the studio. They would continue to be real friends who gave Tina and me a good deal of encouragement in our musical work. Like Chris Blackwell, Robert appreciated the value of a good rhythm section.
Easter is a huge holiday in the Bahamas and we took Brian, who had a genuine love of gospel music, on a tour of various church choirs that Sunday. Wouldn’t you know that the one we all agreed was the most inspiring was the singing by the choir and congregation at the little Pentecostal Church of God of Prophecy right next to Compass Point Studios. They had an electric guitar player, a Farfisa Organ, drum kit, and a whole lot of tambourines. The roughness of their sound made the music seem all the more divine.
Brian and Rhett finished up the mixing on April 12. One song, “Found a Job,” would be remixed by Ed Stasium at Media Sound in New York. We were all very fond of working at Compass Point, especially Tina and me.
Before we packed up to leave, we had a little meeting with Brian in his cottage to discuss possible album titles. We were all sitting around together enjoying the afterglow of a very fine, par excellence recording experience. Tina asked what we should call an album of songs about buildings and food? I piped up that we should call it More Songs About Buildings and Food. Everyone, including Brian, thought it was the perfect title for Talking Heads’ second album and so it was.
When we returned from the Bahamas, David and Tina took the Polaroid photos that formed the mosaic of the band on the album cover. This was done on the roof of our loft building in Long Island City. Everybody loved the cover, but later I realized it was “heavily influenced” by Andrea Kovac’s work. We should have given her credit for that.
39
PLANET CLAIRE HAS BIG HAIR
In my life, there are two bands that I feel especially close to: the Ramones and the B-52s. We toured extensively with both of them. When we met the B’s at the Fans’ party after our first show in Atlanta, Tina and I thought there was something very interesting and unique about them. Actually, they reminded me of a bunch of Southern RISD kids. They were not like any of the other bands. I felt that before I’d even heard any of their music; you could just tell. Ricky Wilson, Keith Strickland, Fred Schneider, Kate Pierson, and Cindy Wilson were their names. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses and they said they would send us their independently pressed 45-rpm single as soon as it was made.
They did send the single of “Rock Lobster” with “52 Girls” on the B side. It was the most fun I’d heard on vinyl in a very long time. The sound was kooky, the lyrics were wildly Dada-esque. The singing and playing were something else—like the Ventures meets the Shangri-Las meets Paul Lynde at Yoko Ono’s house. They said they were planning a gig in New York and we encouraged them to call CBGB. They did call CBGB and sent a tape and, strangely, they got a negative response. I didn’t know this or I would have marched right over there and vouched for them, even though I had yet to see them play. I can’t believe Hilly made the decision. More likely it was some new guy. So the B’s ended up playing at Max’s Kansas City instead. Gary went with Tina and me to the show and we loved them. They were the most fun of any new band we’d ever seen and the songs were completely original. Even though Max’s only allowed them to play a very short set that night, they made a huge impression on everyone there. Tina and I invited them to spend the night in our loft, but they said they had to get back to Athens, Georgia, and left right away. That was a long haul for a very short gig, and knowing Max’s, probably not even enough money to pay for gas.
My brother Roddy and me after his Urban Verbs show at Hurrah.
My brother, Roddy, was the vocalist in a great band in Washington, D.C., called the Urban Verbs. They were very artistic, hip, and going places. Roddy’s good friend Bill Harvey organized a gig at the Corcoran School of Art with the Urban Verbs and the B-52s. They had played together at CBGB—yes, the B’s finally got their gig at CBGB—and it was a winning double bill. Bill made a poster and put it up around D.C. The demand for tickets was so high that Bill added a second show that night. The B-52s drove up from Athens. Tina and I took the train down from New York with Gary Kurfirst, who was very interested in managing both bands. We arrived just in time for the second show. It was completely sold out and a number of A&R people were in the house, including Karen Berg, who had signed Television to Warner Records, and Bob Krasnow, also of Warner.
The energy and enthusiasm for both bands was elevated to the extent that we New Yorkers were very impressed. Both bands were on fire, too.
I introduced Gary to the B-52s and the Urban Verbs after the show. I remember telling them that Gary would be able to represent them and I recommended they each meet with him next time they were in New York.
Not long after that, while standing in front of the Compass Point Studios, Chris Blackwell asked Tina and me if we could sign any new band in
the world, which would that be? We told him, “Either the B-52s or the Urban Verbs.” The fact that Gary would be managing the B’s swung the deal in their direction. Bob Krasnow went on to sign the Urban Verbs to Warners.
Gary and Chris Blackwell truly loved the B’s. Their first eponymous album, produced by Chris Blackwell himself at Compass Point, was a wild success and went gold right out of the box. I was happy for them. Talking Heads did not have any gold records yet, but we did have a huge buzz on our live shows, so when we invited the B’s to tour the USA with us, it was a magical pairing. They energized us. We ended up taking the B’s to Europe with us, too. Every date was sold out. Their second album, Wild Planet, was a similarly huge success. They had it made.
One day I was sitting in Gary’s office, just hanging out, when he got a call from the B’s. I could tell by the look on his face that it was not good news. After he hung up, Gary turned to me and said, “I can’t believe it. They want me to fire Chris Blackwell as their producer.” This was a crazy move because not only had both the albums Chris produced been commercial and critical successes, but he was also the president of their record company! Gary said, “Guess who they want to produce them now? David Byrne.”
I let that sink in. It seemed the B’s were no longer satisfied with being a “tacky little dance band from Athens, Georgia,” as they had often called themselves. Even though the Island Records bands were taken seriously and Chris was a far more experienced producer, they wanted the artistic caché they assumed David would bring them. David had never professed any love whatsoever for the B’s the way Chris Blackwell had, but he took the gig. The album, later reduced to an EP called Mesopotamia, was the B’s first non-hit album.
Tina and I, along with our son Robin and his nanny, Louise Kelleher, traveled down to Athens, Georgia, for Cindy’s wedding to Keith Bennett on April 21, 1985. It was a beautiful, storybook Deep South wedding, really wonderful. After the wedding I got food poisoning at the B’s favorite Mexican restaurant and lost ten pounds overnight. I said to Cindy, “So that’s how you keep your figure!”
We remained friends with the B’s through thick and thin. Tina and I were delightfully surprised when, one day in late 1984, they asked us to play with them at the first enormous January 1985 “Rock in Rio” festival outside of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. They had never had a bass guitarist. Kate played keyboard bass. Keith Strickland wanted to play guitar now and he invited me to play drums. We rehearsed at tiny Charles Lane Studio in the West Village. Tina and I had a ball playing with them. We took a little break for the holidays and then played a couple of warm-up shows in Worcester, Massachusetts, and out on Long Island. Then we flew to Rio.
We brought our baby son, Robin, with us to Brazil as well as Tina’s sister, Laura, to look after him when we were busy playing music. Ozzy Osbourne was on the same plane with his new wife, Sharon, who was the daughter of the notorious UK music manager—and some say gangster—Don Arden. This was before Sharon had all that cosmetic surgery. She was doing a good job minding Ozzy, who was in a terrible state. It seemed like he was brain dead.
We checked into the five-star Copacabana Palace Hotel. We had a huge, beautiful suite with an ocean view in the front of the hotel. Ozzy had the same suite just one floor above us. On the street below us, a large gathering of fans were chanting at top volume, “Ozzy! Ozzy! Ozzy!” They went on and on until Ozzy made an appearance on his balcony, waved to the crowd, and raised his arms in the air like a heavyweight champion. The kids screamed with delight and then, when Ozzy went back into his room, picked up the chant again. This went on for days. I went down to the elegant bar for a caipirinha and met the guys from the German heavy metal band Scorpions. They were great guys, but all they wanted to know was, “Where’s Tina?”
Later, when we were hanging out at the pool, Robin, who was two years old, said to Keith Strickland, “Keith, don’t you just love nipples? Everybody has them!” Everyone around the pool cracked up at that one.
We had another rehearsal day at Gilberto Gil’s “Studio In the Clouds” high atop one of Rio’s mountains. We were joined by the super-groovy saxophonist Ralph Carney and trumpeter Dave Buck. The horns were so much fun and so were the horn players.
We traveled up the coast to a hip little resort town called Buzios, where Brigitte Bardot had just spent a much-publicized vacation with her playboy boyfriend. It was a quiet little artist and musician’s colony. Tina and I stayed in a little hotel and the B’s rented a house together. While we were all out to dinner together, the B’s belongings were stolen. That was very unsettling, so they headed back to Rio. Tina, Robin, Laura, and I stayed on for another day. We heard various bands of musicians playing samba tunes while marching over cobblestone lanes. We bought a beautiful wood carving of a nativity scene that we keep at our place at Compass Point.
The B’s were scheduled to perform twice during the festival. Day one’s lineup was:
Queen
The Go-Go’s
The B-52s (with Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth)
Lulu Santos
Eduardo Dusek
Kid Abelha e os Abóboras Selvagens
We arrived at the site via a large helicopter. As we flew over the festival, we saw that the crowd was truly enormous. The attendance was 1.4 million people over the course of the festival. When it was time for us to go on, Kate was late, still working on her hair and makeup. Apparently, she was always late, but this was not the kind of gig where you can be cavalier about your set time. The gigantic stage rotated so that while one band was performing, another could be setting up, and the one that had performed earlier could be tearing down. Finally, Kate was ready and the B’s hit the stage. Tour manager Matthew Murphy breathed a huge sigh of relief and stayed with Tina and me until it was time for us to join the band after the third song. Tina was wearing a huge gold Mylar wig on her head and I was wearing a special matching paisley vest and turban I had had designed by a friend of Fred’s. I got up on the drum riser and looked out over the 350,000 people in front of us, took a deep breath, and counted off the next song. Everybody in the place went nuts. When you play in front of an audience that huge, you have to operate on automatic pilot. You can’t be concerned about any little mistakes or imperfections. You just rock, and rock we did! Ricky on guitar was especially fiery and fabulous.
After the show, Tina and I went over to the Go-Go’s dressing room to say hello, but they were all crying! They had just decided to break up after playing the biggest show of their lives. Of course, years later they reunited.
The second night we played the lineup was:
Yes
The B-52s (with Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth)
Nina Hagen
Blitz
Gilberto Gil
Barão Vermelho
Erasmo Carlos
Everyone in the band loved Brazil. Brazilians really know how to party. Tina and I hung out with Frederic Serfati, our favorite promoter from Paris who had flown in for the show. One of our local record company people took us on a little walking tour of Rio at night. We came across a public square where James Taylor was performing unannounced with Caetano Veloso. They were singing Brazilian songs that had previously been banned by “the Colonels,” the right-wing military government that ran the country until recently. This was the most marvelous experience. Just two guys with acoustic guitars and beautiful voices singing about freedom and love. James Taylor sang in Portuguese and he knew all of the songs by heart. I was told the night he performed at the festival, they had the highest attendance. Hundreds of thousands sang along with JT in English. The crowd loved the gorgeous melodies and they knew every lyric.
When we returned to the States, the B’s started working on their next album, called Bouncing Off the Satellites. We hadn’t seen them for a while so Tina and I invited them up to our new place in Connecticut for a party in early October. Our accountant, Bert Padell, had told us we should buy a house and we had found the perfect place in southern Connecticut, just
over an hour’s drive from New York City. The house was a barn-like structure with a large music room for rehearsing. It was built next to a large pond with Canada geese, wild ducks, turtles, foxes, and deer abounding. The neighborhood public schools were good and we had many well-known musicians, writers, and actors living nearby.
We were looking forward to seeing the B’s again, but the morning of the party, I got a call from Cindy’s husband, Keith Bennett, who said, “I’m sorry we won’t be able to make it to the party. Ricky has died.” It was difficult to process this. Ricky had always seemed so sweet, healthy, and alive. The news was shocking to everyone who knew him, because Ricky hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was sick. He was only thirty-two years old.
Gary and his right-hand man Ira Lippy organized a memorial service of close friends that was held at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, where a young tree was planted in Ricky’s honor. Kate, Tina, and Laura stood beside the tree and sang a lovely a capella “Under Your Shade” by George Frederick Handel. Then we moved into a small pavilion, where I had been asked to deliver a eulogy. It is one of the great regrets of my life that, standing on a chair, I was unable to say more than two sentences before I broke down and wept and never regained my composure enough to carry on. I hope people understood that all of a sudden, the grief was simply too much to bear. There was so much love for Ricky. It was a terribly saddening time for all of us who knew him. How would the B-52s ever recover from it?
We lost touch with each other. For a long time the B-52s were inactive. They went silent. They did not return phone calls. Gary wanted to meet with them but they wouldn’t respond. Then one day Gary found out they had decided to get another manager. This was heartbreaking for Gary, who adored them, though they probably didn’t realize that. Gary was from a different culture than the band, and sometimes I think they didn’t understand each other. Gary sent Ira to tell them they had been dropped by Warner and Island, but that he would sign them to his new label, Radioactive. There was a court battle and Gary won. Now the B-52s would have to pay two managers.