Thus we try to fill in some of the gaping holes blithely torn into our recording history by record executives searching for something, something, anything different. Indeed we are left with more holes than history. "Angry Years" was the would-be title of one of the many aborted albums wished into the cornfield by the unperceptive titans of the industry. Too bad: as a title, "Angry Years" says it all - the unexplained, juvenile rage that can only find articulation through inarticulate rock and roll - "What do THEY want, anyway?" (See film, "Violent Playground"). It certainly features the bands line-up at its most explosive* - a formidable, five-way tag team embodying an ethos gleaned from three decades of trashy rock and roll, the finest liqueurs and the Belligerent Sholin Monks of 42nd Street Kung-Fu movies. As Gordon Spaeth, "Mr Tae Kwon Do, Jr." said at the time, "Nobody can accuse us of having a lack of personality." Nobody did. You buying? O.K. pull up at stool...

That's right baby, Angry Years, but it didn't have to be that way. How about "5 New Fleshtones", the bouncier more explicable slant on our mini-epic at the time. I was sitting in Mendina's for the first time, having a Dixie and munching on the crabfingers recommended to me by our then co-manager and man about town, Jimmy Ford. I had just arrived from a near-miss and a bunch of unsuccessful landing attempts before touching down in a thunderstorm at Moissaint Field, and it felt good to stand on solid ground, even if it was a bit below sea level. The rest of the band - Bill, Gordon, Keith and Marek - were already in New Orleans, getting ready to "demo" a whole lot of new songs. Jimmy had arranged for the session to be produced by local star John Fred of "Judy In Disguises" fame. As usual, we opted to bypass the usual cover and instead worked up about ten versions of his "Up and Down". Not included in this collection, the true discophile may have to wait for the release of "Angrier Years".

The sessions took place at the studios of the very colorful Mike Carson, and was soon flooded during the solid week of tropical downpour that promptly struck the city. I don't recall seeing John Fred once amongst the floating recording gear and amps at the studio, although he might have passed his hand over the boxes of tapes at some time, unbeknownst to me. No matter, to the surprise of all, the sessions produced a good yield of tracks - many included here along with other cuts that have never been heard before by the public (and probably A&R people they were originally sent to). This was also the real start of a close relationship between the band and the Crescent City that would bring us through many Mardi Gras, one World's Fair (remember there actually was a New Orleans World Fair!) and us being (almost) presented with the key to the city. In areas of more positive achievement, we did work up "Hall of Fame" at this time, after Keith had laid down the basic riffs in his room at the Fountainbleu Hotel (now Bayou Plaza) on a previous trip, leading us to Richard Gotterher and other things...ah if I could put time in a bottle...I'D THROUGH IT FROM AN UPPER STORY WINDOW OF THAT SAME HOTEL, the way Gordon threw a Voo-doo painting of my spirit I'd been presented with. Wait a minute, I'm not finished yet...sure, another vodka-tonic please.

Those of you familiar with various "live" and "Full-Time Men" renditions of stuff like "Watch This", "Last Chance" and "One More Time" should be quite pleased with the versions herein, but "In Need of Love" should come as a bit of a surprise. It's one of our only shots at doing "straight" R&B (whatever that is) and always makes me wonder why we didn't try it more often (because we didn't have the chance, that's why!). That's my debut (and finale) as Fleshtones' rhythm guitarist. We like to stay away from the more obvious blues standards covered by so many other bands, and in this case chose a song so obscure that I can't recall for the life of me who originally did it.

"I Need Something Better" is a real talent witcheroo, with me relegated to lending keyboard support to Marek's powerful LEAD VOCAL. This might have to stand as the unique example of his fronting the band, barring a miraculous rediscovery of a mixdown of "The Eel" (highly unlikely - as Marek, Keith and I searched thru' the vault of multi-track tapes, we discovered that all that was left of the poor creature was the underwater bubbles sound effect from the song's fade).

The patients "Disgrace" and "Fighting For a Lost Cause" exhibit grandiose tendencies, but seem angry enough. They must be from New York.

"Killing By Degrees" as the last in a series of Yardbirds/early-Beatle revved up ragas that began with "The World Has Changed" (oh, yeah!) and "Deep In My Heart". Maybe I'm singing about college or something. Amen.

"Return To The Haunted House" reveals the band's little- noticed serious side, and is one of our deeper forays into matters of the occult and unexplained phenomena. As unexplained is this studio track's remarkable similarity to the live version that appeared on "Speed Connection II (the final chapter)". We include the song strictly for comparison's sake.

While reviewing the 4-tracks from the "Port-a-Studio" (this really sounds like an episode from "Lost In Space") with Mr Pakulski, we were delighted to rediscover a forgotten, updated version of "Rah Rah Renée", a song from the very first batch of Fleshtones originals in 1976. How could Keith's Joan-of-Arc lead vocal have failed to melt the cold heart of the most cowardly A&R man, had we taken the time to actually mix the song when we recorded it, which was...?

Ah "Endless Tunnel" written by San Francisco poet/visionary Richard Meltzer, was in its original 13-minute-plus form, a beloved late-night time filler during the free form days of FM radio in the 60's, along with stuff like "Standing On The Moon" and "The Yard Went On Forever". (See radio pre- Crosby, Stills and Nash.) Here is our go at this psychic saga, mixed and heard for the first time by the listening public, or the Fleshtones for that matter! Stefan, another vodka-tonic here!

Many things have changed, but some have not. Marek Pakulski and Gordon Spaeth, after long years of service to an unrewarding cause, have dropped out of live performance in general. Perhaps they shall return, like in "Viva Zapata" when the people need them most. Even the Fleshtones finally deserted their Hell's Kitchen clubhouse/studio in the so- called Music Building, where most of these songs first saw light, where Miles Copeland Jr., first nodded his approval and where we saw so many groups come, and thankfully go. Thru' it all the gift of wisdom is gained.

A vision: the A&R man's creep's stubby finger moves unsurely along the row of hopeful cassettes, towards the Fleshtones latest demo tape. Having already recorded over the tape with "The Human League" without even listening to it, first his thumb-like finger continues past and clumsily pulls a tape from the shelf. "Yes," says his boss, echoing the quixotic call, passed down since his distant forebears first groped for the Holy Grail of "that English Sound the kids all go for." Soon an armoured car deposits over a million dollars in front of the group's sullen shirtless singer , who scratches his bandanna'd forehead and says, "Is this all?," the group becomes addicted to heroin and the A&R guy loses his job he so fearfully tried to protect...but is soon hired by an ever larger company. And so, the eternal cycle, first contemplated by the Vedie Sages of India over 4,000 years ago, is renewed and continued. How could I not be pleased to have played my own small part in this divine and universal order of creation? And so, as Philip Casloff in the voice of Frank Sinatra Jr at the conclusion of last year's almost-brilliant TV docu-drama, "Sinatra." T-T-T-T- That's Life!......

Of course, this selection is but a scant hint of the songs we wrote and played during those madcap times, many of which never made it to tape. They shall remain fond, if fading, memories in the minds of our friends and fans. Even I recall hearing the live version of "Watch This" on Spanish radio not long ago and wondering aloud, "This sounds an awful lot like us, who the hell is it?" The passing years have done more than erase the frustration and rejection that these song came to represent for us at the time - they erased the memory of ever recording most of these tracks in the first place. Shunned and literally forgotten, we hear them again, as if for the first time, with a fresh perspective. So enjoy these "Angry Years," what the fuck, it's been so long even I can.