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The Forty-Fives Get It Together

by John O'Neill

Sometimes the best part of a band's story is simply how they came to be a band. In the case of Atlanta's Forty-Fives, it is even more intriguing given the fact that a) the bass player did serious time in a major-label

pussy-metal band and b) three-quarters of the outfit was part of the sillily-named and grunge-inspired (insipid?) group the Drugs. Proving that algebra can be applied to life outside the classroom, two negatives do equal a positive. The Forty-fives still sound like one of the truest and toughest rock-and-roll bands to roll north of the Mason-Dixon Line since the Mighty Link Himself packed his bags and left North Carolina to change the world some 40 years ago. Having committed the commercial sins of hair metal and grunge to awaken with a terrible taste in their mouths, the trio of guitarist Bryan Malone, drummer Adam Renshaw, and bassist Mark McMurtry made a pact with one another to never again play music that sucked. Instead, they reached back into their boyhood, when life was simpler and rock music was dolled out in dollops of three-minute bliss. They emerged with big attitude, bigger sideburns, and an armful of wonderful Brit Invasion-inspired punk. Like some kind of frozen cave-punk artifact from 1965 (that was thawed just enough to retain coolness), the Forty-Fives are ragged and rude and ready to make up for their sordid past.

"I'm from a very small town so we had to go out of town just to go to a record store and order records, so for me music was like research. Music was very important to me early on," says Malone from the tour van somewhere out there between upstate New York (where the band just played) and Atlantic City, where they plan to take the day off and gamble their merch money. "My mom had this big collection of records. She had Elvis and the Beatles, and I'd put them on and jump up and down on the bed. So my [love of rock and roll] was there already, I just didn't know it yet."

"That's the kind of stuff we like, lots of '60s shit," says Renshaw. "We realized we were in a band [the Drugs] playing music we didn't like, so we adjusted our situation. It was really difficult . . . and you don't want to tell your mom, `We're in a band called the Drugs and we play Satan music . . . send more money!'."

Already signed to New York's Ng Records, the Drugs became the Forty-Fives when their de facto leader/producer/control freak Danny Zook stormed off the stage mid-gig in an artistic huff, and the threesome were left to finish the night. After deciding they liked the idea of sounding like the Kinks rather than Alice in Chains, they gave Zook the heave-ho, returned to the garage to get it right this time, and called up Ng Records honcho Michael Chambers to see where they stood in terms of negotiating a deal.

"Normally when you call the president of a record company and say that your breaking up the band and not doing the music and changing your name, they stop returning your calls," chuckles Renshaw. "We've been with the label for four-and-a-half years, so they're mostly friends of ours. Ng gave us carte blanche with their new studio."

The result of which is the appropriately titled Get It Together, a lucky-13-track monster that rumbles along with a single-mindedness of ripping things up -- dance floors, eardrums, apartment leases, convention. Somewhere between the Remains on a serious amphetamine jag and the Makers without the phony tough-guy schtick (and a lot more talent), the Forty-Fives are serious-as-a-heart-attack contenders for the trash-rock crown. The Beatles, Kinks, Sonics, Mysterians, and Them easily can be identified as major contributors to the overall sound, but there are also a Herman's Hermits/Monkees playfulness evident on "King of Mexico," an MC-5 guitar excursion on "When You Least Expect It," and the more new-school of Mod sound (mod Mod?) of groups like the Insomniacs on "Without Love." There are muscle-hard chords, over-the-edge guitar rave-ups, huge drums, pulsing Hammond organ, and snarling been-done-wrong vocals. In short, it's the perfect mix for anyone who thinks rock's watermark era peaked just before the Haight-Ashbury scene discovered dope and body paint. And the whole ungodly mess is varnished in a tough-as-nails punk resin; you get the aural equivalent of being kicked in the ribs, and having a clam hawked on you for good measure, because the Forty-Fives don't want you to forget who it was that fucked you up in the first place.

"I'm really into the Beatles and Stones. I draw a lot from Chuck Berry. But I'm not a prude, I listen to lots of stuff," says Malone of his songwriting and his passion for the group. "One of the reasons I wanted to start playing is 'cuz I love all these old songs. And I'm having a great time. I get to go around traveling, drinking, it's a lot of fun. The reason I wanted to get this band going was so I could get out of Atlanta!"

Since releasing Get It Together, the Forty-Fives have gone cross-country, put more than 10,000 thousand miles on their van, blasted through 17 states in 35 days, and opened for Link Wray, Andre Williams, and Wayne Kramer (each an admitted idol to band members) all in the same week; they roll into the Lucky Dog this Sunday night. Things are going so well according to Renshaw that "it's to the point that I'm disturbed. I don't want people to expect it all the time. There are good nights and bad nights, but the good outweigh the bad. We use old, beat-to-shit gear. We've blown one amp, broke two cymbals, and two guitars. So it's been good!"

They've also picked up a fourth member, organist Trey Tidwell, who also appeared on the album ("His wife gave us permission to take him [on the road], and we ain't returning him!"), to round out their sound. As far as the tour goes, they figure they'll be out playing live till the holidays when they head back home.

"It's all a blast. There will always be a market for a catchy two-minute pop rock song. It's the only genre where there's any vitality left," muses Renshaw. "I'm here to play music that makes me feel good and hopefully makes other people feel good. That's enough."