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Here are some amusing photos to illustrate the text.
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Wasting your life chasing a punk
rock dream: a true recollection of success, failure and idiocy
by Dan Cofer
I joined the Parasites as drummer in fall of 1992. I
had been in a spectacularly unsuccessful (but quite amusing) band
called the Plagiarists for a couple of years and we had recently
decided to call it quits when the opportunity to join the Parasites
came about.
Not just me, all of the Plagiarists. Myself, Damon Fries and Matt
Buckner were to become the "new" Parasites, backing
Dave (then called "Nikki" for no reason I could ever get out of him)
Parasite. Dave was moving from New Jersey to California, so Mel of
Shredder Records had taken it upon himself to have a band waiting for
him. We learned a set's worth of Parasites songs and had been
practicing them for a couple of weeks before we even met Dave. It was
strange: we didn't know this guy and he didn't know us, yet we were
supposed to be a band together, sort of like an arranged marriage. It
worked out all right at first but, after three shows, it became obvious
that Matt wasn't right for the job. He was fine musician, which may
have been the problem. This is rock n' roll, not Mozart. It doesn't
work if you're too good. I
believe this was the only time we ever officially fired someone from
the band (everyone else had the sense to slink away on their own, when
the time came). So, in comes Ray Lujan on bass. Ray had been in Pariah
and Parade, so it was only appropriate that he join the Parasites, just
so his bands' records could be filed next to each other alphabetically.
This early period, 1992-1994, is remembered mostly for bad haircuts and
poor fashion choices. We played local shows at Gilman Street, the
Berkeley Square and other hot spots, opening for bands like Green Day,
Rancid, NOFX, and The Mr. T Experience. We did two regional tours,
including one with the Queers, and ventured as far south as San Diego.
This was my first experience with sleeping on floors and in the backs
of vans, something I was to become very familiar with in the coming
years, and I've got the chiropractic bills to prove it.
Somewhere during this time, and I must admit the chronology is somewhat
muddled in my head, Damon and I reformed and re-broke up the
Plagiarists twice.
The first California Parasites recordings were the "Something to Hold
Onto" single, the b-side of the "Letdown"
single and one song for the "Punch Lines" album recorded with Kevin
Army at Smooth Papa's in Berkeley. We then did a track for an Avengers
tribute comp which never came out, as well as a track for the "Pair"
album at some studio in San Francisco with some guy I have no
recollection of (not a slam on the guy or his studio, just my squishy
brain refusing to give up details). To clarify: both "Punch Lines" and
"Pair" were recorded, almost entirely, before Dave moved out from New
Jersey. We added one new song to "Punch Lines" and three songs on
"Pair" were new recordings of songs from the first album, "Pair of
Sides". Of those four songs, I play on two - would have been more, but
I went and got hit by a car on my way to practice one night and was out
of commission for six months with a broken hand. That's why there are
two songs on "Pair" which are credited as being recorded in California,
yet also credit the old New Jersey drummer. Since I couldn't play, they
re-used the original drum tracks (sped up a bit) and replaced
everything else. Ah, studio magic.
To back up a step - shortly before I went out of commission, Damon left
the Parasites to concentrate on the band which would become
Smitten. Jeff Yih stepped in as a temporary fill-in guitarist and
then - Pow! - I've got a cast on my hand, which ain't good for a
drummer. Okay, that brings us back up to date. Gary Gutfeld (from
Courduroy at he time, later of the Hi-Fives) was nice enough to sit in
on drums during my convalescence and this lineup of Dave, Ray and two
borrowed musicians played a number of shows in early 1994. They weren't
good shows, I'm sorry to say. Some were better than others but, I must
confess, I walked out of one show at Gilman because it was so
embarassing I couldn't take it. Somewhere out there is a comp called
"Teenage Kicks" which has a live recording of this lineup doing one of
Ray's old Parade songs.
After this awkward stretch of time, when I was again in playing
condition, Rob Green joined us on guitar. He practiced with us for a
short while,
then promptly disappeared (you will see, as this story progresses, that
Rob had a habit of appearing and disappearing). And then Ray was gone.
Did he quit? Was he fired? I'm sure the answer depends on if you ask
Ray or Dave. All I know for sure is that Dave and I were making plans
to go on tour and Ray refused to do it, so
we decided to go anyway. We got ourselves a temporary bass player, hit
the road, and had no intention of taking Ray back when we
returned. I guess you could say he was fired but didn't know it.
Which brings us to late 1994. With the help of Joe Queer, we were off
into the wild gray yonder to seek our fortunes as a touring
band. Joe was good enough to hook us up with our touring bass player,
JJ Nobody (of the Nobodys, naturally) and also to impart the wisdom
he'd gained on the early Queers tours. It was Joe who showed us how to
do it, gave us the contacts we needed to book the shows and provided
invaluable knowledge which made our first extended foray a success.
Since then, Dave has tried to do the same for other bands, to help them
the way Joe helped us.
Once out on the road, we were surprised to see how many people turned
up at the shows. This was a good time for our genre of music in
general, which I'm sure helped get out an audience, but there were
people who knew the Parasites, who liked us and we're eager to see us
live. It's too bad that we weren't all that good. Because of the
missing second guitarist, we couldn't play many of the more complex,
poppy songs. We could do the short, fast ones just fine but weren't
able to give a better representation of our repertoire's range. It also
didn't help that neither JJ nor I could sing the harmonies. Still, all
in all, we generally went over well.
We did six weeks on the road, through Texas without air conditioning
and through the snow in Minnesota. While out there we recorded our
track for the "Water Music" comp (on Thanksgiving
in Columbia, SC), as well as the wholly unlistenable "VMLive in Chicago
1994" single. It seemed like a long trip at the time, yet it was quite
brief compared to what would come.
Thankfully, the trip was a success (I believe we broke even,
financially) and we knew we had to get out quickly and do it again.
First snag, though, was that there were only two of us in the group and
the whole low-fi approach with just drums and guitar wasn't going to
hack it, so we needed to find some new guys. Luckily, Rob Green
reappeared at that point and was up for some rock n' roll. My brother
Scott, one of the finest bassmasters around, agreed to work with us in
exchange for a french dip sandwich.
It was this lineup that recorded the "Burnt Toast"
single, one song for that split with the Beatnik Termites and our
contribution to a Descendents cover album. Scott learned the songs off
of a tape I gave him and, being the consummate professional he is, had
it all down cold when he showed up to practice. This was the best
lineup to date, in my opinion, but it was not yet to be. Scott couldn't
go on the road, so we
drafted Jason Duncan to handle the bass wrangling duties. Jason was
running Just Add Water Records out of Spartanburg, SC and had put out
the "Water Music" comp which we were on, as well as the "Burnt Toast"
single and the Termites split.
The spring 1995
tour was longer than the first and better, too. Since the three piece
lineup from
last time had been a bit sparse musically, it was good to have a second
guitar and a bit more
experience to perk up the act. We were building on our previous tour to
establish an audience base in various towns and we were able to send
money home to cover our rent and keep the bills paid. It was starting
to feel like this was something we could do regularly and for a long
time, something which was self-sustaining. Also, we were honored to
play the second
half of the tour with our friends Squirtgun,
just the sweetest bunch of lovelies you're ever likely to meet. From
this tour, we actually did well enough for Dave to buy a new guitar and
me some new drums, so you know we were some happy boys.
For those
of you keeping track at home, during this tour we recorded the "Top
Secret"
single and our track for the "I Can't Believe It's Not Water"
compilation
at Sonic Iguana in Lafayette,
Indiana.
Also the "Nyquil Fueled Rock Armada" double live album at WFMU in East
Orange,
New Jersey.
So the touring thing seemed to be working out, at least for some of us.
Rob decided that this wasn't the life for him and bowed out, but plans
were already afoot for tour #3 so we contacted a hot guitar player we'd
met in Kansas City named Mike
Alexander, who was between bands at the time, to come with us. We
seemed to be developing a habit of finding potential new members in
other states, while on tour, and conning them into moving to Berkeley
to join the band. We were always scouting for talent. In fact, when we
met Mike, it was already obvious that Rob wasn't going to stick around
so Mike was immediately at the top our our recruitment list.
This tour
lasted two and a half months (more or less) and meant that, from
November
1994 November 1995, Dave and I had spent six months of the last twelve
on the road. Dave loved being away from home so much because it got him
away from his cramped apartment and telemarketing job. I, on the other
hand, liked my life back home and didn't enjoy being away from it for
so
long. Being on tour is mostly a lot of driving and waiting, with brief
periods
of music every now and then. It stops being fun after a couple of
months, especially if you're the one with the ear infection.
For your score cards: back again at Sonic Iguana, we recorded our track
for that "Grease" comp plus two originals and a Smiths cover that have
yet
to see the light of day.
Tour 3 had been moderately successful, but the four of us were having
those ever-popular "creative differences" which would eventually result
in a 50% personnel change before going on the road again. First,
it was Jason deciding to move back to South Carolina. Brother Scott was
able to join the band on a permanent basis, so the bass slot was filled
easily. Mike then found himself the odd man out, being ten years
younger than the rest of us and not enjoying being aroung such filthy
old men. Aside from that, Mike had always (and this is strictly my own
impression here) wanted nothing more than to be a rock star. When faced
with the realities of life among the Parasites - the hard work, the
lack of money, the lack of recognition, the lack of chicks - he
decided that life in Kansas City hadn't been so bad after all and
bought himself a Greyhound ticket home.
For some reason we were popular in Spain. We'd licensed a couple of
albums to Munster Records in Madrid who'd distributed them on vinyl
over there and there was interest in bringing us over for a few shows
in spring of '96. One small problem: once again, we were without a lead
guitar player. But, wouldn't you know it, Rob Green had one more
reappearance left in him. So, with our passports in hand and our handy
phrase book teaching us how to say "The Cat's Pajamas" in Spanish, we
set
off for adventure. It was great. This particular Parasites lineup had
felt right when we'd recorded the year before and it felt right again.
We played some of the biggest shows we'd ever done. In Spain, the
audience expects you to play for at least an
hour and a half, otherwise they feel they haven't gotten their money's
worth. Thrifty people. We had to play almost every single song we knew
in order to satisfy them. It was fun, most of the time. Our tour
manager
got drunk, our merch girl ran away and Dave got deathly ill from eating
shrimp. But so what, we were in Spain!
After wowing 'em in Spain, we had a very quick turn around before going
out again. Our latest new guitarist, Denny Muller, had actually been
working with us since before the
Spain trip, but wasn't ready at the time (also, I think there were
legal problems which prevented his leaving the country). I think we'd
found Denny somwhere in Wisconsin and coaxed him out to the coast.
The spring of 96 tour was not a happy tour, aside from the good times
we had with The Halflings opening on most of the trip. It was meant to
coincide with the release of "Nyquil Fueled Rock Armada" on both
Wingnut
Records (CD) and Munster Records (double LP), so we had shirts made
with
the cover art and expected promo copies of the album to be mailed out
with
posters to all the clubs and zines along the way so all of everybody
would
come to see us. Unfortunately, Wingnut flaked royally so we had no CDs,
no
promo, no nothing. Needless to say, the tour didn't exactly come off
with
a bang since nobody knew and nobody cared. We were, essentially,
touring
in support of our new t-shirt. Thus begins our period of trouble with
the record labels, as well as my own growing disenchantment with the
business of touring.
On the up side, we recorded "Rat Ass Pie" with Mass Giorgini at Sonic
Iguana, which turned out to be a pretty darn good album. So good, in
fact, that we knew right away there was no hope in hell we'd let the
dopes at Wingnut release it. Thus began two years worth of conflict
which...well, I'll get into that later.
Denny was voted out of the band before the tour was half over on the
grounds that he was about as smart as a used teabag. However, I give
him credit for being bright enough to quit before we could fire him.
Break out the scorecards, y'all, because on this tour
we also recorded "Loyola" for a Dictators tribute which may or may not
have ever come out (available now on "Compost" from Go-Kart Records)
and the instrumental tracks for that incredibly stupid split 7"
we did with Boris The
Sprinkler (vocals were done elsewhere, later, by mail). As well, we did
"Ronnie is a Psycho" and "Daydreaming" at Fish Tracks in Portsmouth NH,
produced in absentia by Joe King for his "More Bounce to the Ounce"
compilation
on Lookout Records. Last, and pretty nearly least, we got a second
crack
at a VMLive EP, this time recorded at the Fireside Bowl in Chicago.
It's
better than the first one, but that's about all I can say in it's favor.
So almost a year elapsed before we toured again. After the 1996 tour,
the important thing was to get out of our deal with Wingnut Records and
have "Rat Ass Pie" (at the time called "Que Pass Out") put out on a
decent label who could support it. The problem was, Wingnut still
wanted the record, so bring on the lawyers!
While all this was going on, the remaining three of us recorded the
"It's Alive" album of Ramones covers at a studio known as "Outer Space"
in San Francisco, produced and engineered by our former guitar player
Damon Fries. That's right, it wasn't done live at Gilman Street on New
Year's Eve
like it says on the cover. As if anybody believed that anyway.
It wasn't until the end of the year that our legal hassles came to
an end (bankruptcy can be fun!) and we had officially regained control
of the album to do with as we saw fit. We'd been in contact with
Lookout records for a while, being as we were both based in Berkeley,
we'd
been on one of their comps and were friends with some of their bands.
It
seemed quite natural that our band would fit in well with their style
and
we already knew that there was considerable crossover between Parasites
fans and lovers of the overall "Lookout Sound". They heard the album,
liked
it and agreed to do a 3-song EP to be followed by the full-length.
Things
went well at first, and in the Spring of 1997 the EP came out with
"Hang
Up" as the "A" side and two lesser songs removed from the album to be
"exclusive"
b-side tracks.
And so, with a new deal and a new release on a new label, we packed up
our new guitarist (a lanky Texan from Florida named Brett Swain, again
somehow convinced to move west for the band) and headed off for five
shows in Japan. As the cliché goes: "We're big in Japan". And I
don't just mean big as in "popular". Some guys thought Scott and I were
American sumo wrestlers. We did nothing to dissuade them.
These were some really great shows, kind of like the shows in Spain,
only smaller (That's a joke, folks! Get it? only smaller?). Figuring we were going
to be out over the Pacific anyway, we also arranged a few day's
stopover for a show/vacation in Honolulu. Mostly vacation, as the show
was a complete bust but who
cares? It's friggin' Hawaii: Palm trees, coconut monkeys and Don Ho.
We spent about a week at home after returning from Hawaii, then headed
out for another trip across the mainland. It was not a very successful
tour. Our troubles with Wingnut meant that we hadn't put out anything
new
other than the "Hang Up" single (sure "Nyquil Fueled" and the second
VMLive
were in circulation, but live records don't really count) so there was
a
big "Who cares?" response in most towns we played. There were a few
high points in the towns we could always count on: Green Bay, Chicago,
NYC and others, though not much anywhere else. At least we got to visit
some new tourist traps, roadside
attractions and thrift stores which served to take our minds off the
fact
that we were losing money at a fantastic rate.
It's sad to realize that money is so important when you're on tour. If
you didn't have to worry about your finances, it probably wouldn't
matter when you have a string of bad shows. You could just say "oh
well, at least we're out seeing America, playing music and having a
good time". Instead, you're worried because you've got a set amount of
money you'll have to pay back when you get home. The van rental's got
to be paid, there's no getting around that. You still owe for the
t-shirts and you've got to pay back the money you borrowed to buy
sticks and strings. I remember, mid-tour, sitting down and figuring out
how much income we had to have in the remaing weeks in order to break
even. Divide that number by the number of remaining shows and that's he
minimum you've got to earn every night. When you've got that number
stuck in your head and you're panicking that you're not going to make
it, it's hard to think about anything else. It's impossible to just
relax and just enjoy the trip.
Already, hints of bad faith were already
beginning to be shown by Lookout, casting doubt on our future there.
Add
to that an openly hostile relationship between Dave & Brett and it
all totals
up to a pretty shitty experience. I was seriously beginning to wonder
why I was even doing this anymore. I wasn't having any fun and I was
constantly broke. For the first time, I started thinking
seriously about quitting the band and going into a more secure line of
work.
Pearl diving, perhaps.
Keep those score cards in your pockets, kids, because we didn't record
a thing on this tour other than a WFMU broadcast which, as stated
above, doesn't count. Brett quit shortly after we finished,
and the rest of us decided to go into hibernation until we could get
"Rat
Ass Pie" (at this point called "Kid Tested, Mother Approved") released.
Like true cockeyed optimists, we figured if we could just get the damn
album out everything would be just fine. Would it? Not yet, that's for
sure...
The folks at Lookout decided that they'd never made any such agreement
to release our album. They claimed they had only planned to do the
single and that was all. Complete bullshit. That's the problem with
verbal agreements: one party can always say "I never said that" and the
whole deal's off.
Why? Quite honestly, I don't think we were cool enough for them.
After months of waiting, the album still wasn't coming out. We shopped
it around and were courted by a couple of different labels. Having
someone actually want us was kind of nice for a change after the
Lookout rejection and in the end we went with Go-Kart records out of
New York. This time
we had a contract, damn it, no more verbal agreements.
Springtime of 1998. The new album was coming out, only two years after
recording it. We had a new guitarist, Dennis Marmon, formerly of the
Blisters out of New Jersey. Dennis was an experienced old fart like the
rest of
us and it felt good. At 30 years old I was the youngest member of the
band for the first time. Ah, youth. We headed off across the country
for tour
#6 in support of our great new album on a new label with a new lineup
that
was really working, hoping for that fresh new start that would put the
band
back on track and.................it sucked. Worst tour ever. No luck
anywhere, with maybe one or two bright spots. Almost three months of
nothing, nothing, nothing. Losing money. Getting pissier all the time.
Dave and I, arguing over the stupidest little things like an old
married couple. I quit the band a thousand times in my head and
certainly once or twice out loud. Why did the tour suck? I don't know.
Everything seemed to be in place. It should have been good. Maybe we'd
been too long in getting the album out and our audience had grown up
and moved on. Maybe our type of music had gone out of style. Maybe the
great Snake God was punishing us for not leaving enough corn in tribute
at his altar, I don't know. Whatever the cause, we straggled home,
exhausted and in debt. I remember telling Dave a few days later
that I'd never do it again. I am, of course, an idiot. We did it again
six months later.
In Ocrober 1998 we landed the opening spot on tour with The Queers
and The Mr. T Experience. There was no way, we figured, that we could
fail this time. Yet, the Parasites and Failure have this strange
on-again off-again relationship. Our leg
of the tour started in New York and went the northern route west,
ending
in San Francisco. In order to get ourselves to New York, we decided to
play our way across the country. Bad idea. We spent three weeks of hell
working our way east and those three weeks were worse than the entire
previous
tour. When we made it to our safe haven in New Jersey, I officially
quit
the band for the first time. Later that day, after a lengthy
group-therapy session, I was convinced to rejoin.
As stated earlier, I am an idiot.
We hooked up with the other bands and the
journey west was much easier. The shows were good and the crowds large,
but I'd decided (for about the thousandth time)
that I was through. At this point, it was an easy decision to make. I
was sick of coming home broke, going back to the day job, earning money
to help pay off the tour debt, then saving up to mount the next tour
and repeating the whole process again. It's a cycle that Dave didn't
seem to have much of a problem with but, for me, it was time to jump
out.
I spent the week after returning from the Queers/MTX tour figuring out
how I was going to break the news to Dave. Maybe I flattered myself to
think that he'd be all upset about it and wouldn't just start reviewing
his mental list of drummers he'd met recently. I was working up my
courage, when I got a call from Dave telling me that Scott had just
quit. So, I told him that I was quitting, too. It turns up that Dave
was, indeed, pretty upset about it. He officially declared that the
Parasites had broken up, but I knew this was a band that would refuse
to stay that way. Other people might be in it and it might move to
other states, but Parasites are hard to get rid of.
One year later, 1999: I'd gotten a real job, Scott was married and back
in school and Dennis was tending bar at the Court Tavern in New
Brunswick. Dave had been overseeing the release of "Compost", a
collection of Parasites odds and ends for Go-Kart. Go-Kart had just
signed the Buzzcoks and were putting them out on tour. Greg Go-Kart
offered Dave an opening slot on
the west coast part of the tour, if only he could get a band together
on
short notice. So we did it, a brief week and a half reunion tour. It
was
nice playing huge rooms with real sound systems and even dressing rooms
(just let me slip into my shiny silver spaceman suit and I'll be ready
to
go on stage...) but, in the end, the whole experience only served to
reaffirm
all the reasons I'd quit the business in the first place.
The following year, Dave, Dennis and some bass player whose name I
can't remember mounted not one, but two European tours. I was
asked to go, but declined. When Dave and the bass player returned, I
joined them for one last show in San Francisco, playing as a
three-piece. Now that was fun: no travelling, no financial worries and
I got to sleep in my own bed that night.
Where are they now?
Parties mentioned in the text and
their current whereabouts:
Me, Dan Cofer: Austin , TX.
Entertainment industry.
Scott Cofer: Campbell,
CA. Warehouse manager, genius.
Dave
Parasite: Livingston, NJ. Still a Parasite.
Dennis
Marmon: Somewhere in New Jersey. Handsome.
Mike
Alexander: Kansas
City (?). Musician.
Brett Swain: Last seen in Oakland, CA. Musician.
Damon Fries:
Amsterdam, Holland. Musician, recording engineer.
Jason Duncan:
San
Francisco, CA. Scenester.
Rob Green:
Baltimore, MD. Motorbike enthusiast.
All others, whereabouts unknown.
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