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If you've never lived in NY, you might not be that hip to the WALDOS, but just fifteen or so years ago, they were one of the most entertaining and authentic in-person rocknroll bands on the planet. This aging flash-city-rebel can still vividly recall when a Waldos performance was a big event, something to look forward to, when all the Babylonian cognoscenti were packed sardine tight with bozo-red lips abuzz with talk of Johnny sightings (shooting up in the girls restroom) and whether or not Thunders or Keef or somebody were supposed to show up later. It used to be fun.

Walter oozed his vampire charm in all those natty stockbroker/mariachi band painted suit jackets, porkpie hat, and his filthy trademark-a red and white horizontally striped ancient skinny tie of his.

Charismatic bass-player/vocalist, Tony Coiro dressed sharp, too in proto-Sopranos chic-lemon fedoras, cruel shoes, big salmon colored suits.

Guitarist Joey Pinter fucking smoked Thunders-a total firebrand, an absolute outlaw on Guitar, blazing, defiant, meaner than mean. He had that Keith thing that nobody ever gets right-without trying. Like Cheetah.

Jamie Heath from the Oddballs and Blonde N Blue played sax.

Jeff West was like this thundering metal drummer who could also swing like Nolan to keep time to all the Waldo's sleazy, 50's and 60's influenced, keg-party classics.

back then, they might be joined onstage by downtown royalty like Stevie Klassen (went on to join the Diamond Dogs and Hanoi Rocks) from the Oddballs, Howie Pyro, or Alison Gordy, at a moment's notice. Even JT himself was known to perform this crazy little leapin' leprechaun jig, outta nowhere, having crashed their stage in the old days. TONY COIRO was the real star of the band-in my bloodshot eyes, anyhoo. The consummate rocknroll gentleman, Coiro was first drafted to replace Born Again, Billy Rath, in the Heartbreakers on one of their reunion tours. Tony was also the principle organizer and driving force behind that poignant and unforgettable Thunders tribute concert. Onstage, Tony Coiro was a frat-rock soul man, beltin' out kickass, from-the-heart renditions of undeniable love songs and goodtimes rabble rousers with a charm and onery grace reminiscent of John Belushi.


Anybody who really appreciates authentic rocknroll, I mean, the classic Flash-Rock-NYC-TRASH owes it to their self to track down the WALDO'S "RENT PARTY" a howlingly good studio document recorded by the classic line-up, at the zenith of their scrappy powers. Produced by usual suspect Andy Shernoff, every song on "Rent Party" brims over with bubble gum pink melody lines and scruffed-up, leathery power chords. "Crazy 'Bout Your Love" is as unforgettable as any catchy power-punk/pop tune you care to mention. If you like stuff like say, the Dictators "Stay With Me" or the Plimsouls "Million Miles Away", you're right in the ballpark.

Walter and Tony's voices compliment each other nicely, and like I said earlier, Pinter had real cowboy soul.

Lure's quintessential tearjerking paean to those "Golden Days", is a gorgeous and sentimental rumination on his rose-lit past, like the stuff Shane MacGowan writes, that pulls on your heartstrings if you've ever ended up underneath the blueish neon half-light of the local pub, every year after year, hearin' the same jokes and breathin' the same stale smoke, askin' each other what you're still doing there, when you know your lives are passin' you by, even as you down another pint, and pretend like everything's gonna be ok. You talk about the guys who used to sit beside you on the empty barstool and swear you just heard the whoosh of the scythe again. I used to put "Cry Baby", "Party Lights", or "Love That Kills" on all my mix tapes we used as soundtracks for all our psychotic, hardcore, sauce-king brouhahas, and if I ever do another radio show, you can be sure the WALDOS will be in regular rotation. Even the cover songs rocked shit-crazy. Ray Charles' "Busted" and the obligatory, Gary U.S. Bonds/Dolls romp, "7 Day weekend" just got the real raunch and rowdy stuff of transformative rock'n'roll magic. You buy this record, you play this record, and you and your bitter, anti-social roommate will start feelin' good, and makin' friends again, no shit. Cookin' out, callin' some people you haven't talked to in awhile up, and "laughin' and a singin' and a doin' all the things like we used to do before!" It's that easy. Jerry Nolan's "Countdown Love". "Sorry". "Never Get Away"--the hits just keep comin'! Hit after hit! You don't wanna go without this disc-this is what real rock'n'roll sounds like!

This inexcusably forgotten, good time motherfucker is probably available on-line-either from Sympathy, or from one of those on-line stores for people with credit cards, and I highly suggest you real flash rockers get ahold of a copy, like, yesterday! "Rent Party" also co-stars flash metal kin-folk and fellow travelers like Michael Monroe (Hanoi Rocks) and Jesse Malin (D-Generation) and will make the rest of yer cd's feel like duds and wallflowers beside it on the shelf. This flawless series of anthemic barn-burners and catchy, soul stirring love songs serve as a fine scrapbook of the dimming, late 80's NYC flash-metal/old school trash-rock scene's last few, fading glory days, before everybody died or moved to Brooklyn and the careerist cyber-geeks and Gap ads moved in. You might as well start blowing up your inflatable pool toys and lookin' for that lampshade now.

by Pepsi Sheen

Sympathy For the Record Industry