|
|
by Michael Gilmartin
Presented at the Community College Humanities Association 1996 Annual Meeting, Philadelphia.
'On the streets of the Bronx is where I want to be, Standing on the corner singing sweet harmony. I'll be waiting for the man to come along and discover me.
My father preaches, "Son, please get a job7 But I don't want to work at one; I want to be a singing star. I'll drive up and down the Bronx in brand new shiny car.
On the streets is where I want to be.
Go away, don't bother me
On the streets of the Bronx is where I want to be,
On the corner of Belmont and 187th Street,
I'll be waiting for the man to come along and discover me.
(from 'Streets of the Bronx" written by Butch Barbella, 1993, performed by Cool Change).
Inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989, Dion DiMucci (born 1939) stands as the paradigm of white, East Coast, urban, young male "cool" as it existed from 1958-1965 and as it exists, with minor change, to this day. Among the disciples are Lou Reed, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Richard price and Chazz Palminteri, each of whose works owes significant (and often acknowledged) debt to this singer and shaper of the world of the above described "white guys". To a far greater extent than, say, Elvis Presley did. Dion DiMucci connected to the strut and drag of being simultaneously 'together" and scared shitless. DiMucci was the one who delivered the goods when he sang (in 'Runaround Sue"), 'let me put you wise".
When he presented Dion DiMucci at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Lou Reed said, "Dion had the voice and he practically invented the attitude". In my article, I wish to explore this 'attitude" as it wove itself into the framework of popular music, literature and film in the post - 1960's and how it continues to evolve in Dimucci's own music. In doing so, I will make reference to, among others, Richard Price's novel (and subsequent film), THE WANDERERS, DiMucci's autobiography, THE WANDERER, and the film, A BRONX TALE, written by Chazz Palminteri and directed by Robert DiNiro. l twill be demonstrated that DiMucci is well-deserving of his self-proclaimed title, "King of the New York Streets".
DiMucci came on the music scene as a doo- wopper fronting The Belmonts. All four members of Dion and the Belmonts are Italian-Americans who grew up in the predominately Italian- American section of the Bronx, variously known as Belmont, The Bronx's Little Italy, and Arthur Avenue. Their first hit, in 1958, was a raucous doo- wop gem, 'I Wonder Why". Unlike several other white doo-wop groups, such as The Passions and The Elegants, Dion and the Belmonts were able to do more than echo the sound of the great black doo-wop groups which preceded them. In a nutshell, Dion and the belmonts introduced a dollop of grit into what had been a genre known primarily for sweet harmony and they avoided the tendency of white groups to produce nothing more than a whiter shade of pale.
Part of the reason for this was that their music struck audiences, BOTH white and black, as genuine: respectful of a tradition, but not imprisoned by it. In his autobiography, THE WANDERER, DiMucci recalls, "Another of our early, out of town gigs was at the Howard Theatre in Washington, D.C., which was a totally black venue: artists, ticket takers, the whole shot. They loved us... We got the same response at the Apollo in Harlem where we were the first white performers ever to play the house. We'd hit the stage hard and confident, and in the minute it took everyone to get over the shock that the guys who sang "I Wonder Why" weren't black, we were already off and running". It is also significant that in articles and interviews which have appeared over the years both the rock critics and the performers acknowledge that Dion and the Belmonts was a group of primary appeal to 'guys".
While the group had a number of national hits, including a lovely rendering of 'Where Or When" and the angst-riddled 'A Teenager ln Love", Dion and the Belmonts went their separate ways in 1960. At the heart of the split, according to DiMucci, was The Belmonts 'desire to focus on the tried and true and DiMucci's desire to explore what he would eventually describe as "The Bronx Blues". In the liner notes for his recording, THE BRONX BLUES (issued 1991), DiMucci says, 'You mix in R&B, street-corner doo-wop, some Hank Williams' 'Honky Tonk Blues', you filter it all through and Italian neighbourhood full of wise guys and all that, and it comes out with an attitude, like 'Yo!'".
Going solo made a great deal of financial sense for DiMucci, but was an artistically mixed blessing. In 1962, he became the first rock performer signed by Columbia Records, and, frankly, the company didn't know what to do with him. The marketing boys must have pushed for a mainstream crooner s image, as evidenced by the album covers and some of the material recorded. DiMucci is seen in tuxedos, cardigan sweaters, and plaid shirts, and many of the songs are old chestnuts, such as "September Song" and "Fly Me To The Moon". The liner notes on the Columbia albums portray a boy-next-door, Frank Sinatra wanabe. Numerous analogies are made between DiMucci and "crooners" such as Frankie Lane, Perry Como, Eddie Fisher and Tony Bennett. Retrospectively, DiMucci notes, 'the role they were trying to cast for me was already more than adequately filled by Bobby Darin".
On the other hand, it was in this immediate post- Belmont period that DiMucci co-wrote and recorded some of the greatest rock 'n' roll songs ever done, especially "Runaround Sue" and 'The Wanderer" (issued back-to back in 1961), both of which wonderfully fused doo-wop and rock. These two signature songs also established the 'attitude" which this article is exploring.
In "Runaround Sue", the singer has been absolutely trashed by the infamous Sue, 'who took my heart and put me down" and who "goes out with other guys". A key moment in the song is when Dion wails, "People, let me put you wise". It is here that personal lament becomes cautionary parable. Later in the song, aware that the kick in the balls which Sue delivered has also bestowed priest-like legitimacy upon him, Dion brings it on home and reminds us that we have heard "the moral of the story from the guy who knows".
So, what's a guy to do? Dion delineates one hard- ass option in his follow up hit, "The Wanderer".
I'm the type of guy who'll never settle down.
I'm never in one place. I roam from town to town.
And when find myself falling for some girl.
1 hop right into thjs car of mine and d rive around the world.
Because I'm a wanderer.
With Flo on my left and Mary on my right, jane is the girl that I'll
be with tonight
And what she asks me which one l love the best,
I'll tear off my shirt and show her "Rosie" on my chest
'Cause I'm the wanderer.
And so payback is a bitch. If she's female, she a daughter of Eve. How 'bout dem apples?
Clearly these two songs set the stage for the New York-New Jersey epics written and sung by Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen years later. That love can betray is not news, but DiMucci posed that truism in the concrete crescendo of the urban jungle by creating a sound simultaneously tough and sweet. (It is worth noting here that in the context of doo-wop, "sweet" does NOT mean saccharine; it does mean 'hitting" notes truly. An analogy would be a batter hitting the ball on the sweet spot" of the baseball bat.)
Furthermore, "Runaround Sue" and "The Wanderer" fuse two very different concepts of wisdom. In the first concept, wisdom is that that which is gained and transmitted in the hope that the future will not repeat the past. Such wisdom has obvious Biblical, delphic, and literary antecedents. Grafted to this is the wisdom of the "wise guy", whose response to hard knocks is to armour himself with a detachment which borders on the ruthless and to embrace a code underpinned by suspicion and inflexibility, all mixed together to produce a cockeyed sense of honour. (It is precisely these two notions of wisdom represented by the two "father" figures in Chazz Palminteri's A BRONX TALE: the "good" father, a hard-working, law-abiding bus driver espousing the virtues of thrift, sobriety and caution and the' bad" father ,a savvy ,flashy Mafia boss opining that it is better to be feared than to be loved).
In 1976, Richard Price, somewhat younger than DiMucci but a product of the same Bronx streets, interviewed Dion for ROLLING STONE. At the time, Price had published his first two novels, one of which is THE WANDERERS and dedicated to Dion (among others), and was on the verge of becoming a major screenwriter. As he waits for Dion (whom he's never met)to arrive for the interview, Price engages in the following internal rap:
The Bronx, 1958-1963, DION. THE non-stop macho- chocto brass-balls rocker, ass kicker, bitch buster, stone hitter... Mah-man Dee-on! Sharkskin pants, Flagg Brothers dagger-toed roach killers. Waterfall pompadours. Teen strut. Kicking ass... Dion was ours. He made sense. A home-grown street heart from Arthur Avenue... The quintessential Dion... 'The Wanderer', that grandiose ballsy swinging monster that captured the hearts, minds and psyches of grease-ball hitters all over the world. That son of a bitch blew me out the back doors so bad that ten years after the fact I wrote a novel, THE WANDERERS, about a pre-Beatles Bronx gang that fairly worshipped the ground that Dion walked on".
Now, let's flash forward to 1989. Dion has just been inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame and is being interviewed by Francis Davis for THE ROCK & ROLL QUARTERLY OF THE VILLAGE VOICE. In his article, significantly entitled "The Moral Of The Story From A Guy Who Knows", Davis writes, "Dion was the one that the boys liked... He was especially popular with boys who imagined themselves tougher, darker, Italian". Richard price, by now a celebrity in his own right and a source for Davis' piece, describes himself as a "sharkskin bar mitzvah boy, a Myron who wanted to be a Vinny" as a teenager. Price says, "If I think back on it, now that I have a three-digit IQ his [Dion's] songs had one message: pussy can kill. It was all macho woe-is-me, sort of like the guinea version of country and western. But you didn't think about the music then, except to react to it".
Had DiMucci clung to the "attitude" of those earlier songs, his career would have been doomed to the oldies circuit. As it is, he has recorded but one national hit since 1965, the well-intentioned, if syrupy, "Abraham, Martin And John" in 1968. Part of the reason for this relative obscurity post- 1965 had to do with a full blown heroin addiction and another part was the tidal wave known as The Beatles. Musically, however, DiMucci refused to stand pat, to be imprisoned by his past successes, to be lost in the fifties. Some of his finest music post-dates his international popularity. For example, his "Daddy Rollin'" (issued 1968) is the B-side of "Abraham, Martin And John". Yet, though the song had never been released on an album, rock critic, Dave Marsh, ranks it among the best five hundred rock songs ever recorded and says, 'A sound beyond the blues. A sound of pure need. The sound of what happens when you just say No and that monkey spits in .your face and grins. It was the scariest music Dion ever made and in its way, the most adult".
What we are witnessing, of course, is a singer and an individual coming to grips with the realisation that the gap between knowledge and wisdom is as wide as the gap between persona and self... This theme is explored in Midtown American Main Street Gang' (Issued 1978). Dion sings;
Through nights of irresponsibility and the lack of self- control,
I feared the friends I ran with, but I loved to live the role...
An afternoon of boredom was cured by a quarter and a cue.
Stealing things from the counter top when there was nothing else to do.
Bobby knocked up Sherri, we ushered him out one day.
Arid Dave and Johnny took the buddy system
Arid they went the Army way.
Two stolen cars took Larry; he got three to five for each.
I came to grips with growin' up, but it's still too far to reach.
In the even more recent King Of The New York Street' (issued 1989), DiMucci swaggers through verses of his old-style braggadocio such as:
People call me the scandalizer
The world was my appetizer
I turned gangs into fertilizer
The king of the New York streets...
I didn't need no bodyguard
I just ruled from my backyard
Livin's fast livin' hard
King of the New York streets
Well I was wise in my own eyes.
Then, the singer, by now a confident enough performer and man to recognize and employ irony, pulls the rug out with a final couplet: I woke one day and I realized You know, this attitude came from cocaine lies. In his autobiography and in numerous interviews, DiMucci starkly acknowledges his inability to deal with stardom. "When I wasn't down in the village acting like an artist, or up at the label acting like a star, or at home acting like a husband, I was in an underground parking lot acting like a junkie". In "I Used To Be A Brooklyn Dodger' (issued 1978), an interesting, pun-filled song he co-wrote, Dion DiMucci sings:
I used to be a Brooklyn Dodger
But I ain't a hitter anymore
You know I had reputation
loved to hear the home crowd roar
I used to be a Brooklyn Dodger
But I don't play there anymore
In using his music to exorcise his demons, DiMucci has chronicled the rise of a punk, the fall of a star, and the ascendancy of an artist and a human being. As this article is being written, he again resisted the siren-call of fame and the chance to capitalize on his canonisation via the title of "Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Famer". He has broken off from his long-time manager and back-up band in order to form a new group, The Little Kings, because he's "become weary of being too reverential to, and bound by, his own past". Scott Kempner, a member of this new ensemble, asks rhetorically, 'why does a boxer continue after he's got all that money? There's something that drives him... This band is for the love of music".
On a concluding, and more personal note, I offer this poem:
Doin' Dion
Who among us, the studded slouchers,
Snapping fingers on street corners,
Hadn't heard of the Dionysus
Who drove a silver-gray T-bird?
Above the street lamps,
The heavens pin-balled
Arid our planet tilted
Towards the dark side.
Arid it was to him
That voice was given and It was for him to discover
The opera of a fistfight,
The riff that rumbled
With the Third Avenue El,
The falsetto sirens of prowl cars,
The concrete crescendo,
The whispers of sashaying dark-eyed girls.
The menacing melody of a priest's Latin.
And it was to us
The he, patron saint
To Red Wings, Imperial Hoods and Golden Guineas,
Wanderers all in the place that rooted us,
Gave sacred music.
