Author Archives: Angie Sugrim

Clarence Clemons was indeed The Big Man. I had the distinct privilege of standing just a few feet away from Mr. Clemons as he shined up his saxophone last December at the Historic Carousel Building right here in Asbury Park, only a quarter mile down the boardwalk from where I’m writing this now. His towering frame was dressed from head to toe in black, and his presence was somehow even bigger than his impressive stature.

That performance, now known as Clemons’ last, was nothing short of surreal. Here I was, some little punk rocker who by the grace of God was milling around members of The E-Street Band (I almost hit Max Weinberg in the face while gesticulating wildly in conversation to a friend), standing a few feet from some of the planet’s most revered talent.

When a vinyl single, recorded from that performance, was released on Record Store Day this past year, of course I got my copy. It’s sitting on my desk next to me right now. Listed on the credits in modest type: “Clarence Clemons: saxophone, percussion, vocals.” I guess none of us knew quite how lucky we were to be there.

Recorded LIVE December 7th, 2010 At The Historic Carousel Building Here In AP

The thing that I remember most about that performance, that struck me the hardest, was the absolutely pure chemistry that group of musicians had. They played off of each other like they were harmonious components in one great machine, operating as a complete body with grace as natural and mysterious as the ebb and flow of the tide.

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The Dollyrots

If you’re anything like me, you’re still trying to figure out how to make it in a grown up world as a perpetual adolescent. Every artist knows the trick is to work the least for the most pay. Since I can’t bring myself to write terrible songs for lots of money ( and besides, so many other people are doing that so well right now) I’ve got to use my assets and skill sets to beat this thing. Stripping? The Black Market? Maybe Charlie Sheen needs a new goddess?

Oh boyzees, until I figure out this whole work money system and how I’m gonna beat it, I guess I’ll just escape to my favorite nation, the nation of Rock. I have a map, some supplies, and my trusty bandmates along with me, and there’s room for you too if you’re looking for a complete and easy escape to an alternate, parallel universe.

This weekend I will knock out the guards, slip through the bars and run wild until they figure out I’m missing and come catch me and lock me up again. Apparently I’ve got quite the reputation for being dangerous to society. Well I say, society is dangerous to me. Harrupmh.

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Yeah, the one thing that me and Axl do have in common is that I get up around 7/ Get out of bed around 9. And while I do love living the dream, I must confess there is a part of me that is being neglected. I’m willing to bet that your intellectual side could use a little stimulation. That’s exactly why you should join me for class this Monday night. Yeah, school, Nightschool to be precise, is back in session, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Nightschool has a fine administration, including Head Mistress Katie Farhat, co-conspirators Billy T., Jo-Jo, DJ Steven, Dusk Till Donnie, the dashing Craig Stewart and bartender extraordinare JoJo, this evening runs the 1st Monday of every month.

The curriculum is designed to keep your booty shakin, something us rock kids forget when we’re busy trying to look like we’re not enjoying the band while we are enjoying the band—i.e. minimal movement, usually limited to the slight bobbing of one’s head and, if you’re feeling especially moved, a few fingers keeping time with the snare drum against one’s skinny jeans pant leg.

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I have to admit that when I first took interest in local boys gone (nationally) wild The Parlor Mob , it was for the wrong reasons. A few years back the guys were still rehearsing over at The Hot Dog House in the room next to ours over on Asbury’s main drag, Cookman Avenue.

I am sincerely not trying to piss off any girlfriends, and I mean this in the most flattering, non-coveting way, but man, when it would get hot in the middle of the summer and we’d all be trying to keep cool while roasting away in our respective spaces, the dudes would sometimes take their shirts off to deal with the soaring sauna temperatures, giving the common areas in the building a sort of a locker room feel.

Which was, to say the least, fine by me. Of course I had an appreciation for The Mob’s musical talent as well. I remember back in about 2005ish, my band The Obvious, was sharing a wall with The Parlor Mob, and I’d hear them working out a lot of their material right next door. Their swaggering Southern Rock sensibilities would bleed through the brick and we’d get a tasty earful of both the tunes and the sound at large of the band as the boys hashed it out with steady dedication.

An Example Of What I Was Referring To: Drummer Sam Bey

Dedicated is probably the first adjective that comes to mind when I think of The Mob. They’ve been working hard for years now. I can remember stumbling into the now defunct Harry’s Roadhouse on Cookman Ave and hearing the unforgettable voice of Mark Melicia when the band was in their first incarnation, What About Frank.

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