THE
WORM IS THE WORD!
(L’esplosione del Baltimore Sound)
by
Jay Graboski
“If
you’ve not been fed, be bread.”–Jelaluddin Rumi
In
his February, 1981 Baltimore City Paper article headlined “Break Up”,
music journalist Michael Yokel wrote, “Depending on which band member you
speak to, the degree of responsibility for Dark Side’s break-up varies;
but all of them agree that the basic reasons were those proverbial personality
conflicts. As for Jay Graboski,
Mark O’Connor and drummer Dave Reeve, they’ll stick together and be joined
by Paul Rieger on bass. The name Dark
Side is being dropped and a new name is in the works.
Major contenders are The Men, Pedestrians and Food For
Worms.”
Dark
Side
(1977-81) evolved out of the infamous OHO, but there the similarity ends.
While OHO developed from a weirdly sinister and oddball Ubu/Beefheart
approach, Dark Side had a healthy preoccupation with 60’s pop, which
manifested itself in the teen-drama lyrics, neo-Spector production and
delightfully squeaky Farfisa fills. Although
the band was definitely 60’s, it had a powerful and aggressive 80’s attack,
great hooks, stomping pop feel and humorous lyrics.
So, with this brief background information and Mark O’Connor pushing
the oscillators on his ARP Odyssey synth into the next phase, we launch
ourselves into the tale of Food For Worms (1981-84).
Having
been tagged “protopunk” by the independent music press while in OHO,
Jay Graboski, Mark O’Connor and David Reeve found themselves in the midst of
the “postpunk” period. Like so
many baby-boomer rockers, they were just three more guys weaned on and inspired
by “British Invasion”, 60's “garage” and “soul” music.
The three-minute-thirty-second pop hit was an archetype burned into their
collective musical circuitry. Why
not subtly alter the patterns of these hit records, using them as malleable
templates under which to explore and order one’s progressive impulses and
ideas? It might be as revolutionary
as Phil Collins choosing his authentic self (being who he really is) for an
entertainment persona. Perhaps one
might then hone one’s discriminatory faculties to the purpose of eliminating
or at least, reducing the unnecessary. Are
not being “overwrought”, “pretentious”, “inflated” and
“long-winded” the catch phrases of the shadow version of progressive music
criticism?
The
guys experimented with this format in Dark Side and “new wave” songs
of that era were characterized by an economy of time.
The band hoped their audience would recognize and respond favorably to
this form, and that Food For Worms’ progressive tenets and
accouterments would be perceived as variations distinguishing their music from
the competition. With this conviction and with only a few exceptions, the band
stuck to this “short song” format.
Food
For Worms is
to OHO as the League Of Gentlemen is to King Crimson.
Though K.C. is
Here
we introduce you to the recollections of FFW keyboard player/vocalist, Mark
O’Connor, a fellow who often shies away from the stock synth patch on any
keyboard menu, preferring the one generally considered to be the most useless.
With these “cornerstones rejected by the builder” he proceeds to
invent his own sounds. He will
mollify and transform the stridence of an “ugly” sound into a sonorousness
that can only be appreciated after being applied to a specific musical
requirement. That he recognizes this and addresses it in quick succession is a
testament to his many keen musical skills, his sense of fun and his simultaneous
inclinations toward both the classy and the crass. Notwithstanding his abilities
as a hilarious performer and prolific songwriter, his discriminating choices and
applications as regards tone, employed in constructing bizarre and magical sonic
textures (just listen to his solo in “It Takes a Summer Job”), squeeze total
satisfaction into a few bars.
Mark
writes: “What emerges in my mind is a picture of unprecedented activity,
outstripping even the creative harvest of the OHO years.
The motivating impetus was Ernest Becker’s The Denial of Death, which
had greatly animated Jay, and then myself.
Thus, the underpinning of FFW was existential, even more so than OHO,
though it contained a less overt form of muted humor.
Some of the lyrics I wrote for the band leaned toward the heavy-handed,
propelled as they were, by Becker’s vision of mortality and Nietzche’s take
on how to deal with it. It was the young Nietzsche to whom we turned in spirit,
the one infatuated with the hypnotic music of perfumed decay.
We were seeking common ground while traversing the dark corners of our
souls and making dangerous music along the way.
We were also having a hell of a good time.
“Listening
now to the parade of tunes we recorded over a period of a year, I am struck by
several things: the sheer beauty of ‘Cosmo’s Credo’, one of Jay’s best,
by the taut construction as well as blistering execution of some of the songs,
such as ‘Out Of True’, ‘We Represent The Symbol’ and ‘Moderately
Severe’. Feeling pummeled by the
obsessive riffs, some of which hover over a shifting harmonic background, an
intense uneasiness ensues from the unsettling sense of shadowy menace.
There’s a flirtation with asymmetrical meters and the presence of Joy
Division can be felt in the melodic bass lines and persistent patterns in the
percussion. I smile at the
whimsical way we tied FFW to OHO by updating the introduction to OHO
Okinawa (‘Opposites’) in
‘No Idea’.
More than any other of my musical experiences, FFW taught me how to
condense song structure while keeping the musical content interesting.
“One
of the band’s unspoken goals was to marry the simple to the complex.
So, while we may have rejected OHO’s somewhat rambling style for
a form of classical coherence and traditional architecture, we didn’t
sacrifice our penchant for unorthodox musical ideas.
“One
of the reasons the band was so productive in the span of its brief existence is
that, I believe, the concept behind Food For Worms was a rich and
constant source of inspiration. Even
our
“I
am impressed anew with how much of FFW’s material was drawn from personal
experience, despite all the offhand philosophizing in some of the lyrics.
For my own part, I recall overhearing a conversation between well-heeled
socialites in the mall where I worked, which inspired ‘Pink Dishes.
A confabulation with a friend about his barber who had the dubious
pleasure of cutting the hair on corpses was the background for ‘It Needs A
Haircut’. Jay’s ambivalent
musings over the vagaries of fame inform songs like ‘Kiss Of Death’ and
‘Privilege’. I suppose it’s
safe to say that we wanted it all: to be the high-brow band with a gritty sound,
the street-wise punks with copies of Camus’ The Rebel in our back
pockets and above all, the creators of a unique blend of high-energy and
thought-provoking ideas that refused to go away after your ears stop ringing.
May The Ultimate Diet revive
that possibility in the consciousness of new listeners and in the hearts of old
friends.
“Other
memories include our unique publicity photos taken of the four members of the
band before Gyro joined as singer. The
custodians of the pet cemetery where the photo shoot took place were
particularly bewildered at our strange request, not to mention our bizarre garb.
Then there was the 1981 single that launched the band, ‘I Don’t Want
To Be President’ b/w ‘Another Crack In The Jaw’.
The ‘B’ side was a holdover from our Dark Side days.
Paul Rieger joined us, becoming our first bassist.
He performed on the single, producing and releasing it on his own Balto-Weird
record label before returning to his band, U.S.E. (United States of
Existence). (Besides the
single, Paul is responsible for creating the bass/synthesizer loop that earmarks
‘All You Need Is Jazz’, the bass playing on ‘Horrible Place’ and the FFW
composition of ‘Worm Eat Worm World’ which he contributed after our offering
the bass playing chair to Mike Kearney, alias Mick McMick, in the late Spring of
1981.)
“This
‘forty-five’ also saw the beginning of a
long and fruitful relationship with engineer and ‘The Bratt Studio’
proprietor, Bill Pratt, that continues to this day.”
Bill
writes, “As the recording and mastering engineer, I thought I might be able to
give some interesting ‘technical insight’ into the recording of The
Ultimate Diet. After
all, ‘it was twenty years ago today’ that we started this project.
I say ‘we’ because I always felt I was a part of the
group–contributing whatever I could to enrich the ‘Worm Tapestry’: a vocal
part too high in pitch for any of the band members to reach (‘Cosmo’s
Credo’), a trumpet part (‘Johnny Vette’), or a production idea.
I was always proud to be an ‘honorary worm’ and am pleasantly
surprised at how well these recordings have withstood the test of time.
“In
1981, my studio, The BRATT, was very modest.
Located in the basement of my home in Woodlawn, MD, USA, it measured only
16'x10'x7'. Jay could barely take
his guitar off without hitting the ceiling.
The ‘worms’ entered by way of the front door, then through the living
and dining rooms, down the basement steps into the studio area.
Fortunately my wife, Sue, loved/tolerated
music. Everyone was in the same
room wearing headphones (engineer, musicians and occasionally even visitors)
playing, listening to and recording music. The
only isolation ‘booth’ was a small bathroom located adjacent to my recording
equipment.
“The
setup was simple. I was crammed in
one corner with my gear stacked to the ceiling.
David Reeve was in the drum booth in another corner and Jay (guitar),
Mark (keyboards), and Mick or Paul (bass) stood wherever there was room.
“David
played my 5 piece ‘green sparkle’ Ludwig set (a la No Doubt).
Though not much to look at, I always like the way it sounded.
The kick, snare, 2 rack toms and floor tom were all mic’d with Shure SM
57's. I wish now I had used a
condenser mic on the overheads but, at the time, I didn’t own one.
I am not, however, disappointed with the sound of the drums.
Even by today’s standards, they definitely have a ‘warm’ sound.
“We
placed Jay’s Music Man amp (again, mic’d with a Shure SM 57) in the bathroom
for isolation. (Sorry, Jay, this is
no reflection on your playing ability.)
“Mark
used a host of analogue keyboards, all recorded directly: a Mellotron, an Arp
String Ensemble, Korg, Roland Juno 6 and Arp Odyssey synthesizers, a Farfisa
organ and a Wurlitzer electric piano.”
This
never-before-released anthology of 26 songs also features tape loops, backwards
cymbals and reverb, whirling plastic hoses, a trumpet recorded at half-speed, a
saxophone, tubular bells, timpani (with real “skin” heads), a gong, a Synare
and a vast array of assorted toys, pipes, clicks, clacks, drones and sundry
percussives. The only automation is
a rhythm pattern programmed by David Reeve on an Oberheim DX drum machine for
“Los Gusanos”, the final cut. All
this and the vocal arrangements (recorded using a Sennheiser MD 421, at the time
Bill’s one really good mic) are layered over a solid rhythm section.
This consisted of the aforementioned Ludwig drums, a Rickenbacker bass
equipped with Bartolini pickups, and the strumming and/or plucking of a Roland
GR-808/303 guitar synthesizer system, “My babe, Lisa” (Paul Rieger’s
electric Fender 12 string), and a pair of Fender Strats, one red and one 25th
Silver Anniversary edition.
“The
recording equipment,” Bill continues, “was the legendary Teac 80-8 (1/2 “
analog 8-track with dbx noise reduction running at 15 ips).
“One
interesting aspect is the way the material was tracked.
Most of the rhythm tracks consisted of bass, rhythm guitar, keyboard,
kick, snare, hi-hat and a stereo sub mix of the toms and cymbals.
All 8 tracks were recorded simultaneously–just music–no vocals.
It still amazes me how tightly the group played without any vocal cues.
“We
would then mix these 8 tracks down to 2 track stereo through a Teac Model 5
mixer (a small 8 channel mixer with 2 bands of EQ and 1 effects send) to a Teac
25-2 (1/4" analog ½ track with dbx noise reduction, again running at 15
ips) mastering deck. Then we’d
‘bounce’ (re-record) these 2 tracks to a fresh portion of tape on the 80-8,
giving us 6 more tracks on which to overdub the
vocals, any incidentals, solos, ‘worm’ sounds, etc.
So, most of The Ultimate Diet was recorded on 14 tracks, using
only one 8 track machine.
“The
only downside to recording this way was having to ‘guesstimate’ how loud the
rhythm instruments should be, relative to the overdubs, because one couldn’t
change their volumes after the fact. We
got progressively better at setting these levels, taking advantage of the much
needed additional tracks that this process afforded and, more importantly, to
hear everything in the final mix.
“I
mixed through Altec Model 5 speakers using a Pioneer SA-9500 integrated amp.
My limited outboard gear included an Orban 622B stereo parametric EQ, an
Orban stereo ‘spring’ reverb and a Lexicon PCM 41 digital delay (less than
½ second of delay at a limited bandwidth).
Having neither a gate nor a compressor, I often had to ride the faders,
especially when recording vocals.
“Typically,
I recorded any effects (reverb, delay, chorus, flange) along with the
instrument. In this way I could
re-use my one digital effect on the next overdub–primitive by today’s
standards, but effective.
“After
overdubbing, we manually mixed everything one last time to produce the stereo
master. In October, 1999, Jay and I
digitally remastered these mixes, finalizing the recordings using current
technology, boosting the lows, accentuating the highs and increasing the overall
volume so that you may hear the best available versions of these songs on the
enclosed CD.
“Before
writing this, I listened to the album in its entirety–WOW!
Remember that Food For Worms
was a performing band. These
tracks were recorded ‘live’ with minimal ‘punch-ins’.
This was a really talented, creative, tight group of musicians.
The intense vocal performances are emotional and raw.
I still marvel at all the different sounds Mark got from his keyboards
and Jay’s guitar sounds are equally diverse.
I loved working with these guys–live music from real human
beings–NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER SURRENDER!”
In
the late 1970’s Roger and Leslie Anderson converted the basement of the
Congress Hotel on West Franklin Street into downtown Baltimore’s premier new
wave, punk rock, rockabilly and blues club.
They dubbed their new club “The Marble Bar”, named after its bar made
of marble
British
Invasion act, The Troggs. The couple were earthy, chatty and considerate
to the point of providing an upstairs “suite” for OHO in the Congress
Hotel when band members celebrated the release of their critically acclaimed
Clean Cuts EP, Rocktronics in June, 1984.
Jay and Mark
The
Marble Bar was to Food For Worms as The Bluesette was to Little Hans.
On Friday the 13th of March 1981 Dark Side played their
“End of an Era” concert preceded by the debut of FFW.
The Worms launched into a prolific period of song writing,
recording and local live performance. It
has been rumored that the band played every Baltimore vicinity
venue…once! No matter how poorly
the Worms were received, they could always return to The Marble Bar
where, appreciated and supported, they would recharge for their next foray into
the moronospheric music scene of early 80's Baltimore and its suburbs where,
they hoped, they might save somebody’s weekend.
While
the music was spectacular, it was not enough to generate the kind of excitement
the band sensed their audience demanded. The worms searched for a singing,
human, lightning rod. Who would be
the right person for the job? Who
could meet the specialized, idiosyncratic challenges of dynamically fronting
this most unusual ensemble? Inevitably,
they found Gyro J. Scope.
“They have a record contract, a video that gives them prospects of a deal for MTV’s Basement Bands series, and a high profile on 98 ROCK. They’re also expected to be cruising the bay as part of the Port Welcome’s progressive new wave series. Gyro (ex-St. Vitus Dance) has given them a big boost on vocals. And Mark O’Connor is God–everybody days so. Get on the bandwagon before Food For Worms makes you eat their dust.” (July, 1983 Baltimore City Paper text promoting a Marble Bar show)
Gyro remembers: “In the early 80’s I was playing bass in the Marble Bar house band, the Alcoholics. Since guitarist Roger Anderson owned the bar, there was no shortage of jobs. We opened for national acts, and every Wednesday and Thursday local groups would open for us. Booze was free for our band and I enjoyed being a central figure in Baltimore’s punk scene. The Alcoholics played a combination of punk/blues/rockabilly which was okay, but I was always more of a closet progressive fan This was my social life, not my musical fulfillment.
“One Thursday night in the Spring of 1982, Jay Graboski, David Reeve and Mark O’Connor were hauling their equipment onto the Marble Bar stage. These guys were old friends of mine. Jay and Mark had been in the premier prog band, OHO. Outrageous, my previous band, had always looked up to OHO, and we eventually befriended them. The merging of these bands and their crowds formed a respectable prog scene in mid-seventies Baltimore. David Reeve was our drummer; but when our band went sour, he joined OHO. I hadn’t seen them for a couple of years and was very interested in hearing how their new band sounded. Jay told me they played ‘Balkan Bop’, ‘Slavic Funk’, and ‘Gothic Pop’, terms invented by Mark O’Connor.
“Okay, whatever,’ I thought, and holed up in the dressing room with my band mates and friends to fry my brain before our performance. About a half-hour later, the strains of ‘Cream Always Rises’ (a fragment of an aphorism coined by Soul Train host, Don Cornelius) wafted into the room. ‘Wow! That sounds good,’ I said, ‘I’ve got to go out and hear this!
“I went out and listened to their set. It definitely had progressive overtones to me: guitar and keyboard interplay I hadn't heard since the mid-seventies. The sound, however, was modern…like a prog/punk/synth band. Jay, in fact, was playing a Roland synth-guitar, Mark, an Arp Odyssey. I was blown away and I let them know it. They were called Food For Worms, the ultimate fate of all flesh.
“A few weeks later David Reeve waited for me at my apartment. We went way back. I knew him from the Northwood (a Baltimore neighborhood) gang he traveled with at the time. They were cool guys with long hair, and we hung out one summer at the local swimming pool, causing trouble and cutting up. I never knew he played drums until he auditioned for Outrageous. We knew we wanted him in the band on sight. That he turned out to be the best drummer in the state was just an extra perk. Well, here he was again, this time bearing a tape of FFW material. He asked me if I wanted to sing for them. Sing? Lead vocalist? Exhilarated, I took the tape and learned the first two numbers. I didn’t tell any of my friends, lest I fail the audition. The following Thursday, FFW opened for the Alcoholics at the Marble Bar. They played a few tunes and then Jay introduced me as their new vocalist. The job was mine to lose. I sang my two songs and the audience was very receptive. I was in!
“I tried to memorize their voluminous song lyrics, printed on papers which were often scattered about the stage, but I was having a ball. The music was the best I had been associated with. Jay and Mark were the principal songwriters and I had admired them since the very early ‘coffee house’ years when they would pop up in assorted garage bands (Spiked Bush, Quinn) and progressive bands (Little Hans, OHO). Things rolled along beautifully. They were more committed to their music than anyone on the scene.
“One night we opened for Polyrock, a popular national act. The gig went great. These guys were pros and I didn’t have to worry about them ‘choking’ in front of a large crowd. After the gig, they told me they were going to record a song called ‘Johnny Vette’, and would I like to get my feet wet recording the vocal track? The next afternoon we recorded the track. Things went easier than I could have ever imagined. I loved it! Even better, that evening David and Jay brought by a mix of the song. We listened to it a hundred times. It was so cool to be able to do that without being embarrassed.
“Another super positive about FFW was that we were right there in the forefront of the available technology (analogue, digital and guitar synths with electronic percussion). So, of course, with the advent of MTV and at David Reeve’s insistence, we had to make a video. FFW had won a spot on the 2nd 98 Rock Album (a compilation sponsored by a popular Maryland FM radio station) just before I joined with ‘It Needs a Haircut’(Reeve/O’Connor). We re-recorded ‘Haircut’ at Sheffield Studio in Phoenix, MD and chose it as the subject for our video. When it was completed and circulated, the jobs started rolling in.
“During this time I maintained my position as bassist for the Alcoholics. My gig and practice schedules were jammed, and the pressure was mounting. On occasions when both bands were booked on the same night, I would run from one job to the other. One hectic night I was speeding around the beltway, going from an Alcoholics job to a FFW job at the Painter’s Mill Music Fair in Owings Mills, MD. Stressed to the max and tardy, I missed my exit. (We also just missed sharing a pint with John Wetton and a performance by UK who had just finished their set
-8-
in the round.) We arrived and FFW had already started their first set. I feared for my position with them so when I hit the stage, all hell broke loose. I was grabbing people in headlocks, drinking their beer, dancing on tables, and tossing their chairs, all while singing these prog-wave songs.
“Apparently, the band dug it. From that point onward, David Reeve insisted on my using fifty feet of microphone cable to facilitate my in-the-audience-participation. The gigs were getting more and more bizarre. The music was taut, clean and cerebral, and I was jumping around like a lunatic Iggy Pop fronting Genesis. I’d grab people, hand them the mic (it’s funny watching people clam up when they’re given the floor), yank table cloths off of their tables (of course, I was no magician, so the beverages and glasses usually went flying). I’d start out semi-formal, and end up looking like a beer-soaked, shirtless psychotic.
“FFW were booked to perform at a three day outdoor festival at the University of Maryland. I knew I had to get drastic to separate us from the pack. We had a prime 8:00 pm Saturday slot and it was already dark. The beer was either free or really cheap, so I was throwing it by the gallon. During any convenient instrumental passage, I would run to the beer tent, grab four beers and rush back to the stage. Standing behind the band, I threw the lager high into the air. It looked surreal in the huge spotlights, as if suspended. Unfortunately, it came splashing back down on the band.
“Alcoholics drummer, Cleave Cutwell, was heading home from a fishing excursion. He stopped by to catch our set. He happened to have a pail of leftover bloodworms with him and began tossing them toward the stage. I couldn’t have done this on a bet, but one worm landed squarely in my mouth. Food for worms, worms for food—what the hell! The audience was simultaneously sickened and excited. Worms began flying all over the place. I distinctly remember one spinning end over end, just missing my face. I pulled members of the audience onto the stage so they could dance, or just spazz out. Time for another beer run, the strangers on stage screamed whatever they pleased into my microphone. By the time I returned, security personnel were clearing the growing mob from the stage. In a gesture of thanks, I ripped flowers from the beds on each side of the stage and hurled them at the audience. Some didn’t appreciate these projectiles as clumps of dirt clung to the roots...again, what the hell? What a great evening! Finding my calling, I quit the Alcoholics.
“Between the riot gigs and the video experience, we built a weird reputation which caught the attention of Clean Cuts Records CEO, Jack Heyrman. We were eventually signed to his label, and thus began the transformation from FFW to OHO, mach II; but that, of course, is another story.”
Be
it Food For Worms, Little Hans or any of the various OHO
incarnations, the guys and gals were perennially vigilant,
looking for people willing to help in any capacity.
On the rare occasion, some unsuspectingly brazen individual would step
forward offering management. Often
this person was a fan(atic) whose main qualifications were enthusiasm for the
music and the desire to try something new… Jim Vensel rose to this occasion in
the case of Food For Worms.
-9-
(Sadly, our friend Jim passed away November 19, 2000. To give you a sense of his humor: at the wake his cadaver was dressed in a sport jacket with a Food for Worms/The Ultimate Diet promo button affixed to the inside of its lapel. Peace.)
Jim’s memories of FFW: “The core group of the defunct Dark Side formed FFW in 1981. The fretwork and song writing of their guitarist amazed me. I thought then, and still think, this guy is one of the nation’s most talented guitar players without a recording contract. The rhythm provided by David Reeve was on the money. He provided a natural beat that cannot be surpassed by today’s synthetically generated percussion. Mark O’Connor demonstrated an extremely high level of talent in both his musical ability and in penning lyrics. The vast and seemingly never-ending arsenal of lyrics were prepared in a fashion that I suspect Lennon and McCartney used in their rise to fame…or at least that’s how I chose to view it.
“FFW had been recording The Ultimate Diet at The Bratt Studio when I began working with them. They got their own jobs and had an ongoing love affair with playing The Marble Bar.
Gyro had already joined the band and I was busy preparing a strategy to bring the worms before the public eye. FFW was a locomotive running wild on its own power, and the demands from the band members were unrelenting. My plan was to move them from a regional to a national level,
one measured step at a time. The band, however, decided that they needed to move as quickly as possible.
“An opportunity to meet with various recording company representatives came up and David, Jay and I packed up my van and headed off to Boston for a fun-filled adventure into the music world. We met various label reps at the Club Spit in Boston, giving away our demos (we even handed
one to the Cars’ Ric Ocasek). We then headed to NYC where we met the producer for the latest by The Manhattans ( Bert-his last name escapes me) for Columbia Records, an unlikely match for Food For Worms. He listened attentively to the Worms’ music and gave us a large chunk of his time and the ‘skinny’ on Columbia’s then recent signing of Paul McCartney. We shopped to a handful of other labels and again, no takers. The trip was an educational experience for all of us, especially me.
“The worms were stuck, and in the growing discontent, we made a decision to do the ‘It Needs a Haircut’ video and with the increasing airplay the song was getting on WIYY-FM, the band started coming into some well-deserved notoriety.
“As in many fine bands, the limitations and personal interactions within FFW began to take their
toll. Immobilized, I decided to move out of the way of the overpowering wills of the band members and resigned as their manager. Anyone familiar with the history of the band knows its
music has always been light-years ahead of mass audience appeal. Twenty years later, it appears the band’s music is finally marketable, its release long overdue.”
When things were going well it seemed as if the band was able to, in Kahlil Gibran’s words, “live on the fragrance the earth.” The quintet received significant help from a number of generous people who gave freely of themselves both financially and through various services. The sand,
meanwhile, was flowing into the bottom chamber of the hourglass and some members may have been remiss in doing the necessary work to ensure their worthiness for continued service to their muses. As if on schedule, FFW disintegrated at a certain “middle” point (most likely at the interval between mi and fa, using the simile of an octave), a recurring motif executed previously in Little Hans and redundantly in OHO. In his “Notes From the Guitar Stool” dated 04/15/99 Robert Fripp wrote, “The middle of any process is a dangerous time, when things are most likely to collapse–too far from the beginning to go back, too far from the end to go forward.” As is usually the case with knowledge gleaned from experience, the truth of this statement was borne out in the saga of FFW.
It was FFW’s naive intention to somehow skirt this interval by expending some serious energy to the purpose of gaining industry support. With a vibrant sound and some expense capital, the delusion was to focus on shoring up the group’s delicate foundation and interpersonal substrata. Things were not that simple. Nevertheless, chipping away at the unknown and exploring creative hunches revealed those things which were NOT impediments to achieving their aim, thereby allowing the team to sometimes arrive at the aim itself: namely, the music. In this respect and as they were, Food For Worms knocked it out, rushing to punch as many guessed-at “chads” as they could until the bell rang the round to an end, their time used up.
As dependable as Big Ben, FFW drummer David Reeve (A.K.A. Reevus) is the keeper of the time. He’ll strike and hit anything, anywhere with an enthusiasm that provokes the admission of the truth. Never in a hurry, David’s percussion responds appropriately to the demands of the music and the moment. His talents are invaluable in both live performance and within the studio setting where, inevitably, the rhythmic patterns he lays down, punctuated by his muscular fills, speak to the listener of his patience and power. This man who does not like to talk long on the phone or write much offers his comments on The Ultimate Diet: “Listening to these songs makes me feel young again. I am amazed at how relevant the subject matter and sounds are to today’s world. My family and I enjoy listening to this music more today than I did twenty years ago, when we recorded it.”
“The Ultimate Diet by Food For Worms will sound familiar. FFW sports Jay Graboski and Mark O’Connor from that legendary OHO outfit. Moody, moving, funky and spunky–the worm is the word. Progressive without getting trapped.”( OP magazine, Olympia, WA, 1982)
Nowadays Mark O’Connor and Gyro play with former OHO guitarist, Joe O’Sullivan, former U.S.E. keyboardist, Bob Tiefenworth, and drummer Bert Taylor in BLAMMO (Beleaguered League of Artists Meeting Mass Opposition). Mike Kearney plays “blues with a feeling” in cover band, Riff. David Reeve and Jay Graboski continue to interweave sophisticated song writing, lava-like acoustic/electric guitarism with stunning vocals, sleek production and state-of-the-art basement technology under the acronym of the ever-transmogrifying OHO. Paul Rieger and Bill Pratt remain integral members of the support team. Paul continues to contribute in myriad ways to the cause while Bill Pratt not only records both BLAMMO and OHO, but also has been instrumental in the re-mastering and finalization of the entire recorded catalogue of OHO and OHO-related bands.
