Bringing Up Boomer

The line in the bank that day could have been a parade of Galapagos turtles, it moved so slowly. I flipped restlessly through my magazine, avoiding the string of faces blank with boredom.

A rangy, red-haired, smiling figure approached and vigorously shook my hand.

“Johnny!” It was Johnny Jackson, back from — well, where had he been? Since he left Johnny’s Dance Band in the fall of 77, Johnny’s activities and whereabouts had remained a mystery.

His smile broadened. “I’ve got a new band! . . . No, we don’t really have a name yet. . . No, we’re not playing anywhere now, just rehearsing .. . But I expect things to start happening soon.”
Johnny’s house in Germantown was our next meeting place, one month later. His new band was having their last rehearsal before going into the studio; to make the evening special, Johnny and his girlfriend Sandy prepared an array of food and drink: caviar spread and celery, assorted cheese and crackers, an oversized bottle of Italian red wine and fresh hot coffee on the stove.

Johnny sat with a long-haired orange cat curled on his lap and traced his musical history while I sipped coffee. The beginning was familiar. I’ve known Johnny since we were both students at Philadelphia College of Art. (Johnny’s back at PCA now — teaching woodworking.) In 1969 he founded Johnny’s Dance Band (not named after him — his co-founder just wanted to be in a band with that name). JDB soon became a favorite at PCA dances — no small feat in those days, with the Nazz, Elizabeth, and Edison Electric as competition. But JDB’s universal good-time attitude was more fun than the spaced out consciousness of their contemporaries.

In time, they graduated from local dances to nationwide exposure, signed with a big-time management firm, and released an album, but their good-natured stage persona didn’t help to ease the growing pains. By 1977, “There were seven people in the band trying to write songs, and that was just too many directions. Tony (Juliano) and I as a team had written seven out of ten songs on the first album (including “Guilty”, “Pushed Around Too Long”, and “Paradise”) and we just decided to take our stuff somewhere else. It was — more or less — a friendly parting of the ways.”

Johnny and Tony wrote some new material, made demos, and went to California to seek their fortunes (or at least a living) as writers. “We aimed for first class — we had songs specially written for Kiss, Linda Ronstadt, Steely Dan. We went to their publishers, but the general reaction was that the strength of our songs lay in our own performance of them, and they advised us to form a new band.
“Back in Philly, it didn’t take me long to put the band together. Eric Bazilian from Baby Grand recommended our lead guitarist Chris MacAlpine who, in turn, brought in drummer John Evans, Jr. Our bass player Richi Leone was suggested by Danny Starobin, and within a week, keyboardist Jimmy Bevan completed the band.”

By the time Johnny finished his story, the band had arrived and started to warm up. During rehearsal, a certain in¬tangible excitement became apparent. Something in the band’s spontaneous smiles, the way they appreciated a particularly nimble guitar lick or a creative keyboard fill; the conscientious energy they put into their playing — even the clumsiness of the less familiar songs — it was the special feel of something just beginning to grow.

A new band is like a new baby — it inherits a few characteristics of its parents, but its personality is really all its own, and develops with every experience. You can’t predict at its birth what its first words will be, or which direction it will take with its first steps.

Johnny’s infant band thrives on his constant care and attention. He’s the manager, agent, songwriter, singer, rhythm guitarist, den mother, publicist, financier, and like all proud parents, he smiles a lot. His master plan included a session at Starr Recording to cut a demo song for potential radio play.

Johnny himself maintained a high level of controlled excitement — a nervous sort of joy. “No talking in the control room please .. . I’ll say that from time to time.” Sound check proceeded carefully under his direction. “I’d like to get a rounder sound on the lower torn . . . Much better… Hit that slowly, please… Can I hear a little bit of the snare?” “Too tight?” “Not the snare, the sound … OK, and the kick …”

The tune, “Soothe Me”, tells the story of Johnny being snubbed at the local hangout by a “silver lady” who didn’t like his shoes. By the end of the song, Johnny’s eagerly bouncing up and down behind his microphone as if he might explode at any second.
Which is, of course, fitting behavior for a guy fronting a rock n roll band named “Boomer.” You can hear them for yourself at the Main Point this Thursday, Feb. 15. And if you see a tall, red-haired, smiling fellow handing out cigars — that’s Johnny.

Boomer will be at the Main Point, 874 Lancaster Ave., Bryn Mawr, on February 15.