Intro: "I know they'd never match my sweet imagination and everything looks worse in black and white." - Paul Simon, Kodachrome Well, yes and no... It's doubtful that the reality of the Buffalo music scene in 1980, if I could return to that moment, would live up to the fond memories I carry thirty (really? 30?) years later. It would be near impossible. This project started with a chance connection on Facebook in January 2009. Joe Murray had added a few of the posters I did for the band to Tommy Kane's "Buff State 1980" group and he looked me up. I realized while I was digging through the boxes of magazines, vinyl 45s, film negatives and cassettes that my memories of that time and place were almost all in black and white. Maybe it's because a lot of the memories take place at night (days were spent in class), or because the artifacts that have remained with me are xerox copies, indy magazines and (being a design major with unlimited darkroom access) b&w photos. To me those b&w images lend the memories an appropriate feeling of great personal historical significance. Adding color would be like colorizing a classic movie...just plain wrong. The Buffalo Music scene in 1980 is better in black and white. As more text comes in from the band and friends I'll attempt to put it all in chronological order, mixing everyone's thoughts into one annotated pool. I'd also like to especially thank Joe Maroney for all his help, supplying photos, audio tracks, answering numerous questions and filling in details that I'd long forgotten. The content would be thin, if not for him. John Roblin: For about two years, until August of 1980 when I graduated and left Buffalo for New York City, I lived on the first floor of a house on Auburn Avenue. The house was owned by the Maroney Family including Virginia Maroney who was my landlady. The Maroney's younger son Joe was living (and drumming) in the attic at this time and working days in downtown Buffalo at Marine Midland Bank. I knew Joe a little before I moved in from having lived across the street for a while with my girlfriend Patty (Patty and I are, as of this writing, married over 29 years!). By the fall of 1979 Joe had moved down from the attic to the first floor along with me, my sister Peg (who would marry Joe a few years later), and Gary Horowitz. Joe was playing in a covers band (I think it was "First Class Mail" or maybe that band came later) and Gary was playing keyboards in "The Good" with Bernie Kugel, Bob Kozak and Mike Hylant. I was in my last year as a design major at Buff State. The layout of the apartment was such that the dining room and living room (back parlor) were basically one big room with Joe's PA speakers on one side. I was in what would have been the front parlor, separated by a makeshift fabric wall and pocket doors from the living/dining rooms. Beyond was the kitchen, back bedrooms and bathroom. Joe's cover band for some reason used to practice in the basement (I only went down there to use the utility sink to make tie-died t-shirts). "The Good" practiced in the living/dining room. This area would become the regular rehearsal area for Joe Regular and the Guise. During this time Joe Murray was either still in "Extra Cheese" (with Gary Storm, Bruno Clarke & Mike Brydalski) or had just left. I think I'd seen Extra Cheese play once, though the where and when are lost in the abandoned neural backroads of my brain. Pat Mazzarella was working at Marine Midland bank and knew Joe Maroney. Joe Murray had met Pat at Buff State (see below). The connections were in place for Joe Regular and the Guise to come together. More to come. Joe Murray: My memories of Pat Mazzarella and the formation of Joe Regular. Pat Mazzarella left this earth too soon. He left well before he could realize the possibility of becoming everything he was capable of, which would have been substantial given his huge capacity for learning, laser like execution of any skill he decided to acquire and generous gift for teaching whatever he knew in the simplest way. He spoke often during the time that I knew him of marrying and having a family. He would never have that chance due to his early death and sadly, outside of his immediate family, his legacy as a remarkable human being may not be carried forward through the generations. And so I dedicate this endeavor to Pat and I thank John Roblin for providing an outlet to make it happen. I apologize in advance if I go on too long recovering the memories that I have locked in my cranium. Even though he was on the planet for only a short time, it seems important to clear these memories from my cortex and place them here so that some confirmation of Pat's magnificent existence is recorded. It started with a surprise sighting of Dr. Joseph Wincenc in front of the Buffalo State College Student Union Building in the fall of 1978. Dr. Wincenc was an Associate Conductor of the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra in the late 50's and early 60's and an instructor in the Music department at the college. I was taking his Symphonic Literature class at the time and it was strange to see him stationary and out of the classroom. He was gazing up at a tall skinny kid with a massive tangle of curly brown hair, sitting on the angled brick wall in front of the Student Union. If he had Dr. Wincenc's attention he would have mine too. I was trying hard to practice listening as Wincenc had instructed us in class. Our listening exercises included needle drops on selected symphonic works. We had to identify the composer, title and movement following a 10 second needle drop. He would play trios and quartets and quintets and make us identify how many instruments were playing and what the instrumentation was. It was the best class I had ever taken. I had never listened so closely to music before and the listening skill sets that were drilled inot me then stay with me today. And here he was, this powerfully intelligent man and gifted teacher, standing with a briefcase in his hand looking up at this kid with hair down to his ankles blowing a very mean Bach on the recorder. This was my first glimpse of Pat Mazzarella. I would learn much about Pat in the coming years. I would learn that he was the son of an accountant and homemaker from Manhattan. I would learn that his father died when he was in the first or second grade, but not before he taught him the decimal values of all of the fractions up to 64ths (I checked, he knew them). He had one brother, who was in the Air Force who was studying to be a Russian language specialist. When his father died, his mother moved the boys to Beacon, NY where Pat would meet Pete Seeger and even play with him a few times. I would learn that he had appeared in an anti-drug public service commercial sponsored by Dutchess County when he was thirteen and I would learn to anticipate his laugh while he repeated the lines from the commercial "My name is Pat Mazzarella, and I don't do drugs", typically just as he accepted a joint someone was handing him. I would learn that the tuxedo he had rented would be worn the next day during a final examination for a statistics class. Very confident fellow that Pat. With that first glimpse I could tell that moving his fingers quickly came easily to Pat. In the years to come I would learn that he could also play the banjo, guitar and most impressively, a long scale Fender Jazz bass. Pat was fiercely independent and secure in his belief that what he was doing at any given time was what should be done, critics and other interests be damned. He carved out a life and lifestyle that while not overtly eccentric was also not compromised by negotiation or conciliation. He would make concessions only after considerable weighing of all variables. Concessions were rare, as he frequently would not consider an opportunity for conciliation before departing to pursue his own interests. I learned this fairly early on, in fact on the very day I met him. There was a pause after he finished the Bach Invention and Wincenc looked up smiling and tilted his head and said, "Keep practicing!", Pat narrowed his gaze squinting slightly to draw Wincenc into focus and smiled. Wincenc nodded and hurried off but I lingered long enough to hear Pat mutter, "Practice....., I think I've got that one down." This was confidence that I never had! Fascinated, I began to talk to him about the recorder and the piece he was playing and he tolerated the conversation for a while but then stood up suddenly and said, "Well, I've got to get in some fooseball before I meet Susanny". Like I knew who Susanny was, but more noticeably and obviously, this conversation was growing tiresome and was clearly not on his schedule. But foosball was something I knew about at the time. I told him I liked to play also and we walked together into the Student Union to play a few games. I kicked his ass. Something that impressed him. He asked for pointers on passing the ball and on delivering wrist shots and mastered these techniques quickly. We played all afternoon and talked guitars, banjo and bass and musical likes and dislikes. I met Susanne, his girlfriend at the time, as she came out of Ketchum Hall and the three of us walked to his place to listen to some music. He pulled out his bass that day and played the entire bass line to "Starship Trooper". This equalized the foosball games from earlier. I was impressed. I think I saw Pat nearly every day he was in town following that first meeting until he moved away to take a job in Florida a few years later. Even though he could be curt and aggressively confident, over time I found that he was extremely forgiving of individual differences and foibles, and he expected the same of others. He was a vegetarian long before it was common to find a menu with anything on it he could eat. Explaining his dietary preferences was not on his program. It's an easier thing to explain and practice today but in the late '70s this required considerable effort. Pat's diet was based on moral principles that he developed a few years before during a summer stint working at a dairy farm in the Finger Lake region. He came to admire the pastoral life and found that he liked the cows. I remember clearly drinking milk with a burger one day and Pat pointed out that I was making good use of "my friends the cows". He told me that cows were highly sentient beings that shouldn't be raised to be our food when they cooperate at such a high level to provide us with milk that they would not otherwise surrender. He considered meat eating treasonous and unfair. This thinking was completely novel and alien to me. Pat didn't cook though and he wasn't a skilled vegetarian. I remember him eating cheese pizza once a day, everyday for weeks at one time. Not much else. He was bone thin and when he would come to my house my mother would feed him. He would accept bread and cheese with tea and occasionally beans or other vegetables but refused most other offers. He was reflexively polite and he would greet anyone with grace and handshakes but reserved special flourish for elders and women. He was a real door opening, hat tipping, handshaking, salutation exchanging hippy guy. Very uncharacteristic for the time, when that sort of convention was considered old fashioned. My mother liked that about him and he was a frequent visitor at our house. I only saw Pat angry a few times. I remember we frequently made trips out to Hertel Avenue for Mighty Taco before one opened on Forest Avenue. As many people would do, Pat and I would sit on the taco wrapper festooned steps of the synagogue next door, lounging as we ate and watched girls walk by. Lots of folks did the same thing and I remember there wasn't always room. One night, after we had settled on the steps, I remember Pat biting into what he thought was a meatless "garden burrito" and suddenly recoiling as he realized our orders had been mislabeled and he was biting into a ground chuck filled "super mighty". He stood up and rushed into the store waving the burrito at the surprised cashier exclaiming that "If I come back in the next life as a stone you'll be to blame." Rare anger. Strangely that night, after the orders were sorted and Pat appeased, we returned to the steps to resume our lounging when we saw a stabbing on the sidewalk in front of the synagogue. A crazy person had admonished the assembled mass of people on the steps saying that they had desecrated "God's House". When a drunk on the bottom step replied with a slurred insult the crazy person pulled a knife and plunged it into his shoulder and ran like hell into the adjacent neighborhood. The strangest Mighty Taco experience ever, for me at least and for Pat certainly a sign of the natural imbalance of the cosmos caused no doubt by his earlier errant mastication of meat. Only the drunk was paying for it, but that didn't seem to matter to Pat. Pat moved frequently as leases expired or roommates bailed on tenuous financial agreements. Before he was working he had to budget carefully as all college students did in our circle. Through his roommates I met a whole range of people of varied backgrounds, intellect and sanity that I would not have met otherwise. Pat's living arrangements included a house with a very large pot growing operation in the attic to a small place with a guy who would regularly beat his dog. Pat had enough of it very quickly and soon removed the dog when the roommate wasn't home and delivered it to Susanne's mother, and, as I recall, the dog lived there happily and safely from that point forward. The noble rescue wasn't without punishment though and Pat moved out shortly after when the guy decided that he needed something else to beat and started to target Pat. It was at that house that Pat and I started to write songs together and develop an idea for a band that would follow along the path of bands that were developing in Buffalo at the time, playing original modern music. At the time I was doing small guitar tech mods for other poor college students and had made some adjustments to a bass player named Scott Schiller's instrument. At the time Scott was playing in a group named "The Negroes". Very strange name and I remember hearing that this band was made up of a very strange but cutting edge grouping of musicians. I remember Pat and I going to see Scott at an apartment where the band was practicing. The room was full of gear including a Moog synthesizer which was very exotic at the time. As I was talking to Scott about the bass, in walked a fellow in soaking wet clothes. It wasn't raining out and I thought it was rather strange. When I inquired about the wet clothes the fellow explained that he had just washed them... in the shower... while he had them on. Pat found this strangely efficient and queried him about how long it took for the clothes to dry and whether the soap ever actually had the desired effect of cleaning the clothes on top and the skin underneath. The wet man endorsed the method fully. He gingerly walked into the room and expressed that he was somewhat worried about stray electricity and checked and double checked that the keyboard wasn't plugged in. Scott introduced this sodden but fascinating character as the band's keyboardist, Gary Horowitz who would go on to join Joe Regular and The Guise as an ingenious and productive member a year or so later. More to come. Joe Maroney: The beginning of Joe Regular & The Guise as I recall it. While Gary was puttering around with Bernard (Bernie Kugel) and "The Good" in the dining room on the 1st floor, I was practicing with my top 40 copy band called "First Class Mail" in the basement. Gary liked to come down and put the squeeze on the girl keyboard player. While I do not recall her name - I do recall she was the girlfriend of the singer. That went over like a, well - let's say it did not go over well at all. FCM was increasingly becoming a major frustration for me, as the guitar player was dating a lap dancer from Canada and his absence was starting to take its toll. The band was good, but not challenging enough. Somewhere along the line I would jam with Gary and my friend Dane - then Gary would introduce some of his material. He invited some friends of various musical backgrounds. I was not sure what Joe Murray and Pat (Mazzarella) were into, perhaps avant guard & progressive rock (ask Joe). Pauline (Digati) came along after her stint with The Scooters. She would have been a great addition to the band however we had to cut her from the line-up, she rarely made it to rehearsals. Then Kim came on board, although a local folk artist, she brought fresh material and a great personality. The introduction that I received was that the band was a project with a goal in mind - to record some material. It was repeatedly said that "anyone could cut a record". I believe we all enjoyed ourselves, playing around town and as far as Rochester. It ended too soon, but we knew that it was meant to be. There are no regrets having been a member of this band, the others were extremely talented musicians and I was amongst production wonders. To me personally, it was an honor to have had this opportunity. Since then, Gary has often spoken of a reunion of sorts, even before Pat passed away - but I never wanted to stick my head out for it. It belonged in the past like many good memories. The recordings of "Girl Dressed in Leather" and "Joanne" were heard on the radio, once on a drive to Buffalo (when I lived in Syracuse) and that sent shivers up my spine - what a thrill. Finally, Joe Regular & The Guise got their airplay. I only wish we had the opportunity to have recorded other great JR&G songs like Kim's "Hide" - she once told me that it was about me, don't know if she was truthful or just wanted my beer. Great times, great people and memories. If I were asked what were my favorite JR&G songs to perform, they would be "I Don't Want to Talk About It", "Hide", "Private Tank" and "New Love Light". Occasionally JR&G will be played on the home stereo or in the car, I can never grow tired of it. Magic moments: playing Scorgy's in Rochester, by the time the first band came off - we had drank nearly a case of beer. Then their sound man ran sound for us, throwing this tremendous echo on my drums - I recall kicking the microphones away so I could hear myself play in real time. We shared many gigs with our x-singer Pauline and her new group "Pauline and the Perils" and we would take turns as opening acts. Pauline also performed her Scooters song "Billy" with us at McVans - that was a fun song, however we took it out too long. I'm sure The Scooters must have played it up tempo and finished in the two minute mark, while our version was like a rock opera. JR&G trivia: who supplied the hand-claps in the studio version of "Girl Dressed in Leather"?* Kim Cady: Joe Regular & the Guise was quite a trip. Madness, music, talent and egos... maybe not in that order. Buffalo in the 80s was a happening place... great clubs - dives and coffee houses. We played at the clubs and dives.. but, like I said, great dives.. McVans... immortalized in the indie film "Buffalo 66"... and, of course, by Joe Regular & the Guise! I heard Jimi Hendrix had played there in McVans' heyday. I remember the sweating bodies of dancers and drinkers. What a scene. There were so many great bands that converged at about the same time. The Jumpers (formerly Lip Service), Pauline & the Perils, Extra Cheese, RocZBop to name a few... I really can't remember all the names - but the visuals are indelible. I was a good writer, mediocre musician and thought we'd "make it". I had just came out of a wonderful folk duo "Kurzdorfer & Cady" - Peter Kurzdorfer, an amazing cellist, arranger and chess player was my better half in that ensemble. I had a lot of college angst and youthful romances gone bad... fodder for some really good lyrics. My tunes were ok.. but, Joe Murray could arrange the sh*& out of these basic melodies. He was the true leader of the band... Joe Regular, himself. Gary, our keyboard player, had amazing riffs and songs. He also had ATTITUDE.. which you really needed in those days. Joe Maroney added the beat with pizzazz and grit. Pat was a quiet brilliant bass player. He was the one who asked me to join JR&G. I was privileged to work musically with him. I was ready to really scream a lot - and said 'I'm in' and off we went. The music was cathartic. I FELT the energy in every beat, every chord... I fell in love with the band. It was a rocky marriage. But, then, I don't know too many jammin' bands that really got along like Ozzie & Harriet. No way... the friction just made the music more appealing, hotter and wild. Of course, that being the case, we burned out early. Joe Murray saw the light first. He knew we'd never be stable enough to tow the music row line - or become corporate tunesmiths. He left & we all went our separate ways. I felt a long period of loss... that's how close some bands are... like hot lovers.. very difficult to leave but impossible to stay together. I'm glad that we are sharing some of our memories of that time... I'm sure more will come to me as this website fills out. Gary Horowitz: Part One - Memories of Pat I was first introduced to Pat Mazzarella by Jeff Pollack, my first off-campus roommate, who also introduced me to Scott Schiller. Scott was also very aware of Pat's legacy. It was like "you just gotta meet this guy. He's a great musician and you would dig him". Both Pat and Scott were amazing bass players in my estimation and they heavily influenced my approach when I moved back to New York and resumed playing. Scott had this sheer ferocity and aggressive style on the instrument (I once witnessed him break TWO bass strings during one rehearsal with The Negroes). Pat on the other hand had lightening quick speed and adeptness on the fretboard. He was also very melodic and knew lots of tricks you could accomplish utilizing open strings. At that time I never thought in a million years that I would ever be performing in the same band with this monster player. He was truly in a league of his own. I would go over to his house all the time just to hang out and listen to him play. I would say "Hey Pat, get your bass out and play something, anything!" And he would oblige me. I was in awe of his technique. He was just amazing. Pat was also a master of sarcastic wit. It was his razor sharp sense of humor that made him such a good hang. There was no doubt in the minds of everybody that ever met him that this guy was brilliant beyond words and had a great mind. He was also a computer programmer and had a "real" job. He had a strong work ethic and took it very seriously. I always respected that. Musically speaking, he had great admiration for Chris Squire of Yes and I believe he had fancied himself as a protégé. Pat showed me how to play Long Distance Runaround. Pat also noted that John Entwistle of The Who had great influence on him. It was Pat that made me aware that Entwistle used "Fenderbirds" which were Gibson Thunderbirds fitted with Fender necks. I owe a whole lot of knowledge about music and bass playing to Pat. He used a Fender Jazz Bass with a rosewood fingerboard that was modified with a brass nut for more sustain, Bartolini 'Hi-A' pickups, and a Badass I bridge, the original one that gets routed and recessed into the body, not merely screwed in as a direct replacement. Pat used Rotosound medium light strings ("They're easier to bend (than the mediums)" he would say. The light ones aren't punchy enough") and was set up with a fairly low action. He used Herco Flex 50 gold nylon pics. He also taught me the technique known as the 'String Pop and Snap' or 'Thumbing-out' as he would call it. Pat was the first person I knew that had a Bass Rig. That is a boutique amplification system using hand - picked high end pro audio components rather than just a store bought amp. They are fairly common today, but back then the concept was rare, even among top worldwide acts of the music business. He went and put one together. It must have cost a small fortune but again, Pat was a working man with a respectable position and probably pulling in some respectable dough. The components were rack mounted in a road case. I remember he had an Ashley crossover, possibly an Ashley preamp functioning as a crossover network with one channel handling the just the high frequencies, the other handling the low end. Also in the rig was an MXR rack mounted Digital Delay that he used for Chorusing and Doubling effects. The whole thing was powered by a Crown DC 300 A and he had special speaker enclosures, probably made just for him. One was a huge bass bin with a reflex port for thunderous bottom. Piggy backed on top of that was second enclosure with another 15" speaker that was "stiffer" and projected the high end. Very sophisticated, very exclusive and very expensive. In addition, Pat made some very effective use of a set of Moog Taurus bass pedals. He would hold down pedal tones with his foot and solo over it. In his sound Pat favored a boosted low end, accentuated top end and the mids scooped out to almost nothing. Once again, I believe he was emulating Chris Squire, and Pat's basslines were always so busy that you needed that kind of definition to cut through the barrage of sound from a normal rock band, but especially with our frantic little outfit. It is so damn sad and downright unfair that his life ended so blatantly early. But isn't that always how it is though? The great ones that stand apart and shine so brightly ultimately burn out the quickest. Pat was a tremendous musician, a fantastic friend and a magnificent individual that was loved by all and shall be dearly missed for the rest of my days. Coming soon.. My recollections of the band Joe Regular & The Guise home - history - music - photos | design by 8thplanet.com * Peg Roblin Maroney and Jean Arnold.