Action figure

Jeff Crane gets it cheap, loose, loud, and right

by John O'Neill

20 years as a Keith Richards-esque second banana, Wormtown ax slinger Jeff Crane makes a solid case for himself as a capable front man and songwriter with the release of his first solo

disc, Piece of the Action (Glam Records). More important, Action is, top to bottom, the most solid and satisfying dollop of pure punk wallop ever released from the City of the Worm. A tall statement to be sure, but the album is like some great lost artifact from the mid-'70s Bowery days -- part Heartbreakers (as in New York, not T. Petty) muscle, Stones-inspired raunch, New York Dolls glam-trash, and Dead Boys attitude (which is essentially a drink-till-you-puke-then-play-a-few-tunes-type of affair). While not nearly as sloppy and dumb as a lot of the stuff from the early wave of nihilists (Tuff Darts, Angry Samoans, et al) there's still a vibe that at least suggests Crane's skids are greased for some un-pretty hedonism.

Long on spirit, light on fuck-ups, Piece of the Action is an album Johnny Thunders would have gladly given up his works to make. With a résumé that includes some of Worcester's better punk outfits (the Commandos, Fun House, Surreal McCoys, and Ballbusters, to name a few), Crane combines two decades dedicated to Iggy-fied sound with a solid roots knowledge to create a super-charged listen.

"It had got to the point with the Ballbusters that we were dredging up whoever we could and [then we'd] do two or three gigs," says Crane. "[Ballbusters singer] Rick [Blaze] was interested in getting into the business end of things. Being as restless as I am, I asked [fellow-Ballbusters] Cheryle and Joe Sheehan if they'd back me up and record."

Crane took the trio into Tremolo Lounge studios to record with local uber-engineer Roger Lavallee. They cut nine original numbers, and three well-chosen cover tunes. After laying down the majority of the tracks with Lavallee, Crane polished up the vocals and tossed in a few overdubs from his home studio.

"I'd heard a lot of good stuff about recording [at Tremolo], though I hadn't heard most of what's been done there," Crane remembers. "Getting a good drum sound is tough. Lo and behold, this guy [Lavallee] got a great drum sound right off, and that's 90 percent of the battle. You can get a good guitar sound with a hand-held tape recorder!"

The result of the dual studio trick is an album that's loaded with balls and bite (Crane's punk pedigree) and that retains crystal-clear tuffness (Lavallee's incredible knack for making a band's strong points better).

The album opens with the Link Wray-inspired title-track instrumental. Then Crane reels-off a dozen tunes of high-caliber rock. "One A.M.," a reworked Commandos number, bounces along with a major nod to ol' Keef, while the stellar "Manhattan Babylon" cops the riff from "Sonic Reducer" and rolls in the gutter down on Avenue D. A Holy Trinity of boozing -- "Cheap Champagne" (a nifty ode to drinking Andre Cold Duck by yourself that would be at home on a Queers album), "Pretty Messed Up" (dedicated to an underage groupie), and "Beer and Gasoline" (the trials and tribulations of being on the road and running out of the two vital tour fluids) -- are so good because they're real stories.

Actually all the originals on the album are direct results of chasing the rock-and roll-dream. Playing crappy bars for even crappier pay, touring France and loosing money, having the van towed with all the equipment in it, nutty chicks, sleazy guys, bi-sexuals, hangin' around with nothing to do -- Crane is equal parts born to run and born to lose. Not to mention a guy with a load of great tales.

"It's a dreadfully long history that I have with Worcester as far as the writing goes," Crane chuckles. "I drink cheap champagne because I'm too poor to afford a six-pack every night! It's like sodee-pop with alcohol. I thought it would be comical to be honest about yourself. I don't glamorize [the lifestyle] like some guys do . . . and the getting towed in New York is true. I don't know if you've ever been to the impound there, but it's the size of Rhode Island. They have this little train and they take you out and drive you around until you find your car. Then you have to show your registration before you can get the car, and most people tend to leave their registration in the glove compartment. . . . It was very interesting. Of course Rick tried to start a revolution in the waiting area."

Crane's next step is to press up a batch of 500 discs and sell them to primarily the European punk underground. Just as Rick Blaze has had to go across the Atlantic for name recognition, Crane's well aware of the chilly climate in the States that surrounds his music. ("There's a strong market for this in Europe, so I'd rather send some out for review to a few select American fanzines and sell the rest by mail order as opposed to printing a thousand and sitting on 400 for the next five years.") After that, his solo career will come to a quick halt as he preps himself for the Ballbusters upcoming English tour.

"Yeah, we've got four shows in England. The good thing about the Ballbusters is it's a chance to travel, kind of like joining the navy. I don't have that name recognition yet," Crane says. "The other consideration is Joe and Cheryle are in the Crybabies and that's a pretty demanding repertoire. I don't want to make pie-in-the-sky promises and not come through. I don't need to have things centered around me . . . being a front man is a lot of goddamn work!"