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| From | "mkropp" <mkropp@comcast.net> |
| Subject | Dave Blood tributes (long post) |
| Date | Wed, 17 Mar 2004 22:04:08 -0500 |
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At the risk of embarrassing both of these gentlemen, let me say that our own Jim Slade and Andrew Chalfen have each written very nice tribute pieces to the late Dave Blood. Well done.
In Memoriam: Dave Blood, 1956-2004
The Dead Milkmen did more to bring punk rock to this town than the fiercest rantings of Johnny Rotten. By singing in their native dialect and by anointing countless local bands as touring partners, they did more to bring our scene to America than any of their well-coiffed, million-selling contemporaries who just happened to have local ties.
At the heart of the band's "big brother" role was bassist Dave Blood (originally Dave Schulthise). Word of his suicide last week sparked sad but tender feelings across Philly's old patchwork scene, which only the Milkmen seemed able to connect. Getting to hang with Dave whenever our band, Nixon's Head, had the giddy thrill of opening for the Milkmen was a treat. His cerebral, slightly threatening sense of humor had me giggling in anticipation. He had the "road-tested sage" thing down pat, with as many rituals as a starting pitcher.
He welcomed us into his band's world, filling us in on the details fueling [frontman] Rodney Anonymous' latest rant and seeing that we got our share of chicken in Akron. After shows, Dave and I discussed bouts with asthma over puffs on our inhalers. He heard out our rock dreams and helped frame them with glowing feedback. Nothing earth-shattering, but time hanging backstage was more interesting than the guarded "you guys sounded good" that bands typically share between soundcheck and the show.
Once onstage, Dave coiled up and rocked on the balls of his feet. His bass neck, seemingly twice the length of his slight body, was thrust over the crowd. He played with either a euphoric or a maniacal grin on his face, as the song required. At key moments, he would uncoil and do a little leap and scissor kick that became, at least among my bandmates, a highly anticipated moment of any Milkmen show.
Dave's enigmatic humor took center stage with fellow Milkman Joe Jack Talcum in the duo Ornamental Wigwam. Once, we joined forces with them for a Mott the Hoople tribute show. Dave's enthusiasm for the role of his hero Ian Hunter far outweighed his vocal abilities, if not the preparation of his bandmates.
One night he had a couple of us over for dinner. He cooked. We talked. We played some rock trivia game after dinner. Long after my schoolgirl glee subsided, his ability to lead us thrill-hungry young bucks through such a well-rounded, relaxed evening left an impression.
Thanks, Dave, for helping show me the way. --JIM SLADE (Philadelphia Weekly)
On Dave
The outpouring of sympathy and memories on The Dead Milkmen Web site message board (www.deadmilkmen.com) has been remarkable and moving. Many lives were touched by Dave's intensity of wit, warmth, honesty and thoughtfulness, not to mention his bass riffs, which inspired so many to take up the bass, join a band and set themselves free from some narrow, backwater, close-minded place or situation. His unwavering support of local bands just getting their feet wet is legendary.
Many Web posters wish they could've done something to let Dave know that he was loved, that then Dave would still be around. But, in fact, I'm pretty sure he did know that he was loved, and not just in the celebrity worship way. This was a band that answered all its fan mail. If anything, people were into Milkmen for being regulars -- albeit shrewd and talented anti-celebrity regulars -- who saw through all the bullshit and ridiculousness of modern culture and politics and successfully fought back with punk rock and humor. They reveled in doing so and we loved them for it.
Being in The Dead Milkmen must have been a blast. It was also Dave's job for years, with all the intense routine and purpose that entails. Transitioning out of something like a long-held job or relationship, as everyone knows, is hard as hell.
I lost touch with Dave in recent years, except for a nice catch-up phone call we had four or five years ago. He had found purpose living and teaching English in Yugoslavia, sending back a harrowing diary of life there during the bombings, still cutting through the media bullshit to let us know what was really going on. I heard he went back to school for a while and that recently he was planning on returning to Serbia, where he said he felt more at home. Maybe he couldn't get comfortable with life post-Milkmen, as though he had been through the transforming experience of being in the trenches, with all its bonding, focus and meaning, and then feeling a bit lost after the war.
Dave could be pretty serious at times, but I'd imagine that he'd be as uncomfortable right now as I am with me getting all heavy like this. So I'll heed his dope slap from the great beyond to tell you that when I lived with Dave and the rest of the band in '86 and '87, he was also all about yelling "Land ho!" and "We love the Beatles!" when he found out we could all hear one another through the walls having sex in our West Philly cave of an apartment. He would eat the weirdest shit in the name of keeping healthy, "in order to maintain [his] girlish figure." His daily crank calls under the name Fred Lettuce live on in infamy. He would concentrate like crazy when playing the bass, his military discipline with the instrument accessorized by his army boots and commando gear (except when the guys wore dresses and lipstick on stage early on). Between songs and offstage, though, he could have you rolling on floor in tears of laughter. Between him and Rodney there was no escape from their coordinated attack of punk borscht-belt one-liners and chicken-butt jokes. Dave was so much fucking fun to be around, no wonder the kids at the shows didn't want him to leave afterwards. How cool would it be to escape, to just get in that van with Dave and the gang and head off for another show. He'd hang out with them as long as he could.
I'll really miss ya, buddy.
Andrew Chalfen was a friend, colleague and roommate of The Dead Milkmen. He used to play in the Wishniaks and DJ on WXPN; these days he plays with Trolleyvox. (Philadelphia City Paper)
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