L. Kent Wolgamott: Pickett still relishes making his own music
“Did we meet back in the day?” Charlie Pickett asked.
Sure did, I replied, back at The Drumstick. Many times.
“I remember,” Pickett said of the legendary Lincoln club. “It was the only time we ever slept in the bar. We came in there once and there was an ice storm. We crawled into Lincoln at 10-15 miles an hour. When we got there, we went right to the club. I don’t know why we didn’t get a hotel. But the owner said we could stay there, so we slept in the club.”
Tuesday’s trip down memory lane was occasioned by that day’s release of “Bar Band Americanus: The Best of Charlie Pickett
And …,” a CD that gathers much of the best of Pickett’s recorded material from the 1980s, now long out of print and unavailable.
A rough-hewn mixture of ’72-era Rolling Stones, a little Yardbirds, some Flamin’ Groovies, a few heaps of old blues and downtown New York rock thrown into a sneering, guitar-driven Miami-based blender, “Bar Band Americanus” captures Pickett and his bands, the Eggs and the MC3, at their finest, confirming that they were great rock ’n’ rollers.
Understandably, Pickett is pretty pleased with the disc.
“It’s neat to look back and say to yourself, ‘This is the best of what we did and this is pretty darn good,’” Pickett said by phone from Fort Lauderdale. “It’s not up to the songwriting of Tom Petty. But it’s a better body of music than status quo. I still like it; it’s good stuff. In the history of rock ’n’ roll, there’s probably a few people here and there that say there was a band from South Florida in the mid-’80s that was a pretty darned good guitar rock band.”
It is also true, as Pickett pointed out later in our conversation, that “you can’t buy it anywhere now.”
He wasn’t referring to his old records or even the new CD. He was talking about the gritty rock ’n’ roll that he and his bands once created that has largely and sadly departed from today’s music scene.
Pickett and the Eggs were among the first bands to get labeled “cowpunk.” Even though they had little to do with country music, Pickett said the label was fine with him, in large part because in the mid-’80s, the meaning of “rock ’n’ roll” had been dramatically altered.
“We didn’t want to be associated with the term rock ’n’ roll, even though, to me, rock ’n’ roll was what we did,” he said. “What was called rock ’n’ roll was Boston, Foreigner and, later, the J. Geils Band, and rock was Zep and some other stuff. When it was Zep all day and all night, it was just insane. There was never anything new, or anything like us.”
The punk part of the “cowpunk” designation does fit, to some measure.
“We basically went out and played fairly hard and fast rock ’n’ roll,” he said. “The (Sex) Pistols are nothing more than a jacked-up Chuck Berry. That’s what we played. We caught on with the punks and the so-called New Wave. We were always fairly at home there. … We were different than the punk band, but we were accepted.”
Pickett and the Eggs started out playing around Miami/Fort Lauderdale, then “Live at the Button” got them national attention. They began national touring, jumping into a Dodge van and hitting the road on the then-nascent college rock circuit that brought them to towns like Lincoln once or twice a year.
There was a grind to the touring, especially the first couple of weeks, Pickett said. But once the band caught its road groove, it was heaven in a series of dive bars.
“You go from driving a bulldozer to what I call small fame, known by thousands, unknown by millions,” Pickett said. “The applause and accolades were great. But when you got really into it, it was something else, something special and you knew it. You got so unbelievably tight and loose at the same time, it became such immeasurable, visceral fun. It’s a great thing.”
Pickett gave up trying to make it as a full-time musician in 1988, and he’s been a lawyer since 1994.
“There were only three things I wanted to do: be a guitar player or an airline pilot or a lawyer. I got to do two of the three.”
But he hasn’t given up music. He plays a few times a year around South Florida and still writes and records songs, including “Penny Instead,” a cut on “Bar Band Americanus” that fits in seamlessly with his earlier material.
“I love to create a new song on the guitar,” he said. “The words have always been a hellish struggle for me. I just can’t do ‘June, moon, loon.’”
Pickett then shared a story about how he once lifted the lyrics for a song from old movie titles he found in a TV Guide. Then it was back to the ’80s and Pickett’s memories of the Lincoln band with whom he often shared a stage.
“Charlie Burton used to kick our doors in time and time again,” Pickett said. “For me, when we were playing with him, it was, ‘I’ve got to be great, I’ve got to put on a great show,’ just to keep up with him. He was a hell of a showman and he had a crackerjack guitar player. Everyone else was hot, too. They were a fantastic machine. … Tell him hi for me.”
Reach L. Kent Wolgamott at 473-7244 or kwolgamott@journalstar.com.
Sure did, I replied, back at The Drumstick. Many times.
“I remember,” Pickett said of the legendary Lincoln club. “It was the only time we ever slept in the bar. We came in there once and there was an ice storm. We crawled into Lincoln at 10-15 miles an hour. When we got there, we went right to the club. I don’t know why we didn’t get a hotel. But the owner said we could stay there, so we slept in the club.”
Tuesday’s trip down memory lane was occasioned by that day’s release of “Bar Band Americanus: The Best of Charlie Pickett
And …,” a CD that gathers much of the best of Pickett’s recorded material from the 1980s, now long out of print and unavailable.
A rough-hewn mixture of ’72-era Rolling Stones, a little Yardbirds, some Flamin’ Groovies, a few heaps of old blues and downtown New York rock thrown into a sneering, guitar-driven Miami-based blender, “Bar Band Americanus” captures Pickett and his bands, the Eggs and the MC3, at their finest, confirming that they were great rock ’n’ rollers.
Understandably, Pickett is pretty pleased with the disc.
“It’s neat to look back and say to yourself, ‘This is the best of what we did and this is pretty darn good,’” Pickett said by phone from Fort Lauderdale. “It’s not up to the songwriting of Tom Petty. But it’s a better body of music than status quo. I still like it; it’s good stuff. In the history of rock ’n’ roll, there’s probably a few people here and there that say there was a band from South Florida in the mid-’80s that was a pretty darned good guitar rock band.”
It is also true, as Pickett pointed out later in our conversation, that “you can’t buy it anywhere now.”
He wasn’t referring to his old records or even the new CD. He was talking about the gritty rock ’n’ roll that he and his bands once created that has largely and sadly departed from today’s music scene.
Pickett and the Eggs were among the first bands to get labeled “cowpunk.” Even though they had little to do with country music, Pickett said the label was fine with him, in large part because in the mid-’80s, the meaning of “rock ’n’ roll” had been dramatically altered.
“We didn’t want to be associated with the term rock ’n’ roll, even though, to me, rock ’n’ roll was what we did,” he said. “What was called rock ’n’ roll was Boston, Foreigner and, later, the J. Geils Band, and rock was Zep and some other stuff. When it was Zep all day and all night, it was just insane. There was never anything new, or anything like us.”
The punk part of the “cowpunk” designation does fit, to some measure.
“We basically went out and played fairly hard and fast rock ’n’ roll,” he said. “The (Sex) Pistols are nothing more than a jacked-up Chuck Berry. That’s what we played. We caught on with the punks and the so-called New Wave. We were always fairly at home there. … We were different than the punk band, but we were accepted.”
Pickett and the Eggs started out playing around Miami/Fort Lauderdale, then “Live at the Button” got them national attention. They began national touring, jumping into a Dodge van and hitting the road on the then-nascent college rock circuit that brought them to towns like Lincoln once or twice a year.
There was a grind to the touring, especially the first couple of weeks, Pickett said. But once the band caught its road groove, it was heaven in a series of dive bars.
“You go from driving a bulldozer to what I call small fame, known by thousands, unknown by millions,” Pickett said. “The applause and accolades were great. But when you got really into it, it was something else, something special and you knew it. You got so unbelievably tight and loose at the same time, it became such immeasurable, visceral fun. It’s a great thing.”
Pickett gave up trying to make it as a full-time musician in 1988, and he’s been a lawyer since 1994.
“There were only three things I wanted to do: be a guitar player or an airline pilot or a lawyer. I got to do two of the three.”
But he hasn’t given up music. He plays a few times a year around South Florida and still writes and records songs, including “Penny Instead,” a cut on “Bar Band Americanus” that fits in seamlessly with his earlier material.
“I love to create a new song on the guitar,” he said. “The words have always been a hellish struggle for me. I just can’t do ‘June, moon, loon.’”
Pickett then shared a story about how he once lifted the lyrics for a song from old movie titles he found in a TV Guide. Then it was back to the ’80s and Pickett’s memories of the Lincoln band with whom he often shared a stage.
“Charlie Burton used to kick our doors in time and time again,” Pickett said. “For me, when we were playing with him, it was, ‘I’ve got to be great, I’ve got to put on a great show,’ just to keep up with him. He was a hell of a showman and he had a crackerjack guitar player. Everyone else was hot, too. They were a fantastic machine. … Tell him hi for me.”
Reach L. Kent Wolgamott at 473-7244 or kwolgamott@journalstar.com.
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