critics haven't always existed. For the longest time, there
was a lot of rock 'n' roll but not many people writing seriously
about it. In the late '60s and '70s, came the first generation
of real rock critics, some of whom were known to be as wild
off the page as Jerry Lee Lewis was on the stage. And some
of the best known descended on Buffalo like a literary "Animal
House" in 1974 for an academic symposium of rock critics.
Richard Pachter was there, a kind of designated driver. He
lived to tell the tale.
Hard to believe now, but once upon a time, these two guys
-- rock critics, of all things -- had a fervent following.
Not a squealing, door-busting mob, but a critical mass of
aficionados sufficient to ensure immortality -- or at least
a reputation some 20 or 30 years later.
In the early '70s, Bangs and Meltzer didn't merely "review"
music -- b-o-r-ing! -- they teased it, belittled it, loved
it, ignored it, whatever was required. Editors of Fusion,
Creem and the era's other rock rags (are there any left?)
gleefully but warily commissioned reviews from the pair, often
over the objections of ad managers who had to solicit business
from the same record companies that provided the pair's fodder.
It's hard to believe that Rolling Stone -- the same super-slick
publication that now cover-features nubile girl singers and
boy bands like a latter-day 16 magazine -- was once part of
a wave of "serious" rock journalism. Rolling Stone,
even at the height of its hip pomposity, rarely published
Bangs and Meltzer, and when it did, usually regretted it.
Now, with the Internet and MTV, there are no writers who
cover or review music that have any kind of following. Kurt
Loder may be a solid scribe with decent credentials, but his
newsy bits aren't as memorable as the on-screen face-offs
he refereed between Courtney Love and Madonna on MTV.
Bangs, who died of a Darvon overdose in 1982, didn't just
scribble reviews. He interviewed (several times) his hero
and antagonist, Lou Reed, and in a memorable summer
of '71 issue of Creem (which also contained Greil
Marcus' monumental "Rock-A-Hula, Clarified"
later expanded into a book-length exploration of the indefinable
elements of rock), Bangs created a mock history of the Count
Five, the one-hit wonders whose "Psychotic Reaction"
blatantly ripped off the Yardbirds' "I'm a Man,"
replete with an imaginary (and outrageous) discography.
(still alive and residing in Portland, Ore.) was Bang's Glimmer
Twin, though writing separately and enjoying (if that's the
word) an on-and-off friendship. Where Bangs was clownish and
an unashamed fanboy, Meltzer, though frequently funnier than
Bangs, often cited philosophers and arcane sources beyond
the typical scope of Uriah Heep fans. His early extravaganza,
Aesthetics of Rock," highly praised for its rabid
intellectualism, was several decades ahead of its time --
further proof of the author's genius.
Though Meltzer's anarchistic sense of the absurd is equal
to Bangs', his evocation of sexuality is usually at ground
-- if not gutter -- level.
In May 1974, Bangs and Meltzer came to Buffalo for a rock
critics' symposium at Buffalo State College.
I was employed by the venerable Leonard Silver, Western New
York's pre-eminent music entrepreneur, as promotion man for
his Best & Gold record distributorship. I'd left the University
at Buffalo a few months before, having been music editor of
Ethos, the school's student magazine.
But I was still plugged into the town's critical community,
despite having gone over to the other side.
At UB, I'd taken a course offered by the school's American
Studies Department, with several other rock 'n' roll literati,
including Spectrum reviewers, Billy Altman and Joe Fernbacher,
my pals Matty Goldberg and Terry Bromberg, WPHD deejay Jim
Santella, The News' Dale Anderson and others.
The class was led by Jeff Nesin. At times, we were joined
by a Kenmore High School student, Gary Sperazza, who later
published a magazine called the Shakin' Street Gazette.
In May '74, attending Buffalo State, Sperazza had somehow
wangled enough student activity funds to fly in a bunch of
nationally known rock writers for a symposium. Bangs, Meltzer,
Greg Shaw, Nick Tosches, John
Mendelssohn, Lenny Kaye, a pre-Arista Patti Smith and
Rob Tyner, lead singer of MC5
(a Detroit band), showed up, along with Altman and Fernbacher,
having forfeited their amateur status by selling reviews to
Bangs and some of the others were billeted in a dormitory
at Buffalo State. They reportedly had attempted to foment
a panty raid, failed, then tried to solicit sex, presumably
from coeds, by running around the quad and shouting. Not surprisingly,
this tactic, too, was unsuccessful.
DeRogatis reports in his new Lester Bangs biography "Let
It Blurt" that they tried to get into Goodbar's,
standing in line in the rain, but didn't get past the guy
at the door.
The rock critics' panel was wild and wooly. With no clear
agenda, topic or proposition ("Resolved: Rock criticism
is an oxymoron"), Nesin, the designated grown-up, gamely
attempted to moderate.
But Nesin was smart enough (and more than cool enough) to
let things unfold when it was clear that no order would be
I'll spare the play-by-play (it's in DeRogatis'
book), but highlights were: Meltzer and Bangs' tag-team
verbal trashing of the Village Voice's Robert
Christgau, Bang's recitation of a letter written by Canned
Heat's manager to Rolling Stone that got him banned from that
publication, and Meltzer's questions to Zoo World editor Arthur
Levy ("What's your favorite Jewish holiday?").
The panel broke up after Tosches invited everyone -- audience
included -- to a party, presumably in the dormitory where
some of the participants bunked.
It had lasted about 40 minutes, preceded by a poetry reading
by Patti Smith, accompanied by Lenny Kaye. (I knew it wasn't
quite rock 'n' roll, so it had to be art, but what did I know?)
The next day, I drove Bangs and Tyner over to my Fillmore
Avenue apartment for some scrambled eggs and sanity. Bangs
was very polite, clearly appreciating my bourgeois hospitality.
My parents would have, no doubt, been proud.
What happened to the rest of the writers? Well, panel participant
Nick Tosches wrote several books, including a highly
acclaimed biography of Dean Martin, which Martin Scorcese
wants to film, and, most recently, an explosive biography
of boxer Sonny Liston. "The
Nick Tosches Reader" was just published by Da Capo
books, and includes plenty of references to Meltzer and Bangs,
and some other shorter work.
Altman continues to contribute to the New York Times, People
and other publications, and published a
biography of humorist Robert Benchley. Fernbacher passed
away last year. Nesin is president of the Memphis
College of Art.
I lost touch with Mendelssohn. Shaw runs Bomp,
an alternative record label. Meltzer's new book, "A
Whore Just Like the Rest," offers ample documentation
of his wildly brilliant and hilarious music writing.