Screamers

Friday, May 21, 2021

I spent a great deal of time seeing the band, Screamers pretty much throughout 1977. In the previous year, my father died, so I had time to kill. I know I saw them in various clubs throughout Los Angeles, but the shows I remember the most were where they played at the Whisky a Go-Go on the Sunset Strip. Strangely, I can't remember the other shows, but then again, I can remember every time they appeared in a publication or zine. Without a doubt, their visual presence became known to me before hearing a note of their music. They had an unusual lineup of just being a Fender Rhodes electric piano, ARP Odyssey synthesizer, drum kit, and a demented singer named Tomata du Plenty. 

Such a good-looking band at the time, well, they were all good-looking, especially the Los Angeles bands, but Screamers I felt were even better looking than the others. Tommy Gear (the synth player), David Brown (concert pianist), and K.K. Barrett was strikingly handsome, and Tomata had a beautifully structured face that can be easily animated. I loved this band even before hearing one note. The night I saw them, I was sitting on the balcony in a packed club when I heard someone in the back of me saying, "There's Robert DeNiro." When I heard the name, I stuck my neck out to see where he was in the club. As I turned around to see who mentioned DeNiro, I can see them both intensely looking at me. It was then I realized that they were talking about me and somehow mistaken me for DeNiro. They were very excited to discover a star among their sight, but luckily the music started up, and we all dwell in the world of Screamers. 

Tomata was a German Expressionistic figure with hair straight up and wide eyes open. He tends to scream more than sing, and at the time, I was sure he was the most outstanding vocalist in the world. The beautiful thing about the band is that they never released an album or recording. All the other Los Angeles punk/noise bands were making records, but the Screamers, either out of duty or aesthetic reasons, refused to make an album or single. This, to me at the time, was a very noble approach to making their art. The refusal to create a product and the only way to hear them is actually to go and see them. 

I was intrigued to be a fan of a band that refused to make a recording. Some bands destroyed their instruments (The Who/The Move), but a band refused to record their music. Therefore they were untouchable, beyond all the other punk groups, and even that, were they even Punk? At the time, I loved the idea that the Punk era was starting at Ground Zero, and everything before that was dumped into the trash. The combination of losing a parent and the radical approach to form a new culture had a nice ring to me. I, too, didn't want a past but only be concerned for the present. Even the future was too restrictive and boring at the time. Of course, I realize that all of this was just a romantic notion I had and shared with some, but on the other hand, what a magnificent way of living. 

For forty-four years, I have been living with the thought of the Screamers, but never their sounds. At times I wondered if I was even at their shows. Perhaps I made them up like one who has an invisible brother or sister to play with or an imaginary best friend. It made sense to me if I had imagined a band-up, Screamers would be that group. 

So now, in 2021, I ordered the Screamers Demo Hollywood, 1977.  I actually ordered the album last January, and I spent pretty much the year just waiting for the record to be sent to me. I finally received it, and I didn't have the nerve to open the package. I walked around it and eventually took it off the floor and put it close to the turntable. I stood back and watched to see if it would move by itself. I opened the package gently and got the album out. With a penknife, I opened the seal and took the record out. I placed it on the record machine. For 16-minutes, nothing happened, but everything happened as well. Need I go more?  

Hearing something that was never meant to be released is the end of innocence or romantic feeling I had for my past. The present is here, and indeed my past is gone.

P.S. Not sure who took the photograph above, but would love to credit the photographer.