Rick D Memorial

From Gringo Motel’s myspace blog 

Hey everyone,

Thanks for all of your kind words regarding Rick D. I was able to get two questions answered, his age and the date of the funeral.

This is from my friend Honey.

Rick was 40, turning 41 on July 4th.

His memorial is:

>

> Thursday, April 12th

> 10-11 Family available

> 11-12 Memorial Service

>

> Freed John R Funeral Home Incorporated

> 124 N Easton Rd

> Glenside, PA 19038

> (215) 884-1900

there will be a more festive event at the Tritone

Punk Rock Heaven

From The Phila City Paper

Also, Chuck Meehan alerted me to the ultimate historical tribute thread on Philly Shreds.

In His Own Words

From PW via Phawker

Cracking the Code

I’m mourning Rick D but I’m not gonna be nostalgic and say the 90s were better than the 00s. I’d say that every time has its highs and lows. There are very few places where I feel like I belong. For me, real life was never really Fugazi. Back in the early-mid 90s, I was a wide-eyed stupid, crazy kid just trying to find my way, instead of a tired, stupid, crazy old lady still trying to make my way today. The time before the internet was a little more innocent and a little dirtier. You had to go out into stinky bars and awkwardly face people to find out anything or at least call them up on the telephone and have awkward conversations.

In 1993, I started writing for the Philadelphia Weekly towards the end of the Welcomat era, when it was like a fanzine for grumpy old men. Strangely, grumpy old men were my early advocates. We had some sort of mutual understanding. Old men understand sadness and weirdness and angst. It doesn’t scare them one bit. I found them dignified instead of old and they weren’t too busy proving themselves to give you the time of day. They didn’t make me feel bad for not knowing something, they made me feel honored to find out abou it. They talked to me like a person. Gender and age were incidentals. We were all just misfits at the end of the day.

Young indie dudes expected young indie girls to be fourth grade crush innocent or to be tomboys. People cloaked their emotions in faux sincerity or irony. They called me a sellout for writing for the pittance that the Weekly paid me and not a fanzine, for not being there when they were, for not being a member of the club. No one admitted to being any kind of sexual being or even admitted they had bodies. Look at the oversized T-shirts and flannels. Everyone was just a walking, talking jukebox of wit. All smart-ass but not really smart. I still wanted to crack the code.

Back then I was curious about everything and there was no internet. So I’d call up promoters and ask them what bands they were booking. This is how I really learned about music. Two of the people I talked to the most were Bryan Dilworth (back when he booked The Khyber) and Rick D. Bryan wasn’t a big phone guy, so I used to go to his house in Old City and pick up records (back when he ran Compulsiv) and talk music. But Rick and I were on the phone for hours. He’d fax over some scrawled out schedule to The Weekly and I’d call to be debriefed. He frequently loaned me CD’s just because it was crazy that I’d never heard about Band___. I had a lot to learn. I still do.

Obviously, it’s easier now to just to go to bands’ websites and myspace pages, but something’s lost in the translation. Being a human being. Today, whenever a young, curious, hungry, lost person calls me up or e-mails me or approaches me in a bar, I give him or her whatever I have. Whatever piece of myself will help them along in the world. Rick D wouldn’t do it any other way and neither would I.

Pricked

I can’t wait to read this.

Rick D RIP

Photo from Philadelphia City Paper’s First Look at Tritone

I’m shocked to even type this. Just found out through Paul Dellevigne that Rick D co-owner of Tritone passed away from a heart attack just a few hours ago.

I’ve known Rick D for over a decade, first as a music journo, back when he booked The Firenze, JC Dobbs, and Upstairs at Nick’s. He was an early supporter and adopter of all kinds of punk bands, most famously booking Green Day at Dobbs pre-Dookie. He also ran a label called Black Hole and was in a band called the Newbyles. He probably has a history pre-bar scene, but someone older and wiser than me should fill in the gaps.

As a promoter, he’s been a big supporter of all of my endeavors: Plain Parade, Sugar Town, etc.

He had a big punk rock heart, a great sense of humor, and a love of all genres of music. He wore a leather vest like no one else. Some of my fave Rick D sayings: “They call it Drag City cause it’s a draaaaaaaaaaag.” “If you wanna make money get a day job.” “That band can’t even draw a picture in this town.”

This is a loss for me and an even bigger loss for the Philadelphia music scene. Truly the end of an era. A plate of pierogies and a special will never be the same.

I’m sorry if this sounds cheesy. I really don’t know what else to say.

If anyone has any memories or info they want to leave in the comments, fire away. Or if you prefer: sarasherrATgmailDOTcom

UPDATE: A tribute from Punky Mama

Sugar Town 4/28

Sugar Town, a monthly night of lady rockers, DJ’s, and more:
SAT APRIL 28
Tritone
1508 South Street
Doors at 9, Show at 10
$7, 21+

PURPLE RHINESTONE EAGLE
If you hang at West Philly house shows, you know PRE and love them. If you don’t, meet your new best friends. Listing their influences from Sabbath to Sleater-Kinney, they describe their sound as “a kiss on the hand and then a punch in the face.” How very Crystals!

THE SKY DROPS
The Wilmington, Delaware duo are made up of Rob Montejo (ex-Smashing Orange) and Monika Bullette, whose 2005 Internet release of her solo album “The Secrets” won Philadelphia City Paper’s “Best Album You Can Get For Free and Without a Guilty Conscience“. Together, they elicit comparisons to My Bloody Valentine and “a shoegazing Everly Brothers.”

THE SHONDES (NYC)

With drums, bass, guitar, violin, and powerful, intertwining vocals, The Shondes bring to their music the drama of Patti Smith, the punch of Sleater Kinney, traditional Jewish melodies, and a songwriting style deeply rooted in Classical tradition. Shonde is the Yiddish word for disgrace, shame or outrage. As queers and trannies, radicals, Jewish and non-Jewish Palestine-solidarity activists, it’s no surprise that they’ve been called “disgraceful. With their surprising sound, contagious passion, and radical political content, The Shondes move and energize audiences in New York and beyond.

JAMI ATTENBERG (Replaces Donna Gaines)

Jami Attenberg has written about sex, technology, design, graphic novels, books, television, and urban life for Salon, Print, Nylon, Radar, the San Francisco Chronicle, Plenty, Time Out NY, eWeek, and others. Her fiction has been published by Nerve , Pindeldyboz, Spork, and Bullfight Review . Her debut collection of stories, INSTANT LOVE, was published by Crown/Shaye Areheart Books in June 2006. CP said, “Attenberg’s language is spot-on, walking that fine line between cutesy and brilliant with stunning alacrity.” A novel, THE KEPT MAN, will be published by Riverhead Books in 2007. She lives in Brooklyn, NY

DJ KIT (Fuse at Sal’s)

When the untimely departure of girL party left a hole in the city’s social offerings for queer women, resident DJs Kit and Phoenix and a posse of organizers and artists decided to do something about it. Their vision was to keep the monthly dance party and performance space alive as a safe and accessible spot for women, including transgender women and men, to come together. Fuse was born, bringing the music back every month starting this Saturday at Sal’s—without missing a beat since girL’s last bash in December. Same time, same $5 cover, same cheap drinks. Fuse organizers plan to feature local spoken-word and dance artists in the downstairs space while stepping up party themes and promotions (read: more freebies). So put on your hot shirt, pocket a fiver and get ready for some pool, because the party’s getting started all over again.
(Angelina Conti, PW)

50,000 Lire For My Thoughts

I woke up this morning with the late, great Kirsty MacColl’s “Innocence” stuck in my head. In the stylee of Comfort in the Sound, I’m gonna post them here, because they’re so bitingly brilliant after all these years, and pretty much everyone knows someone like the subject of this song. It’s like her own “Freed Pig.” I wonder who her J Mascis was?

It wouldn’t take a long time
To explain what lies between us
And it wouldn’t take a genius
To work out what the scene is
It might just take a pilot
To give you a natural high
But you’re sending off those bottle tops
For your free piece of mind
And are you just waving or drowning?
It’s so hard to tell when you’re so far away

Oh innocence has passed you by
A long long time ago
I was the fly upon your wall
And I saw what you know
Your pornographic priestess left you for another guy
You frighten little children and you’ll always wonder why
Always wonder why

The mercury is rising
And it’s not all that surprising
In the land of milk and honey
Where you make big money
And it always keeps the rain off
And it always keeps you dry
But back home the people hate you
And you never did know why
But I think I’m going to tell you
Just give me fifty thousand lire for my thoughts

Oh innocence has passed you by
A long long time ago
I was the fly upon your wall
And I saw what you know
The supermarket checkout girl
Once smacked you in the eye
When you eat noone else does
But you always wonder why
Always wonder why

It would take a gunshot
Just to clear your head awhile
And after all this time
How can you stand there
Look at me and smile?

Now are you just waving or drowning?
It’s so hard to tell with you so far away

Oh innocence has passed you by
A long long time ago
I was the fly upon your wall
And I saw what you know
Degeneration suits you, now I’m going home to cry
You won’t be seeing me again
But you’ll always wonder why
Always wonder why

SEBADOH – “Freed Pig”

You were right
I was battling you, trying to prove myself
I tried to bury you with guilt; I wanted to prove you wrong
I’ve got nothing better to do than pay too much attention to you
It’s sad, but it’s not your fault
Self-righteous and rude
I guess I lost that cool
Tapping, til I drive you insane
I’m self-righteous, but never right
So laid back, but so uptight
Destroying your patience to tolerate me
With all the negative spirit I bring
Right, I was obsessed to bring you down
Watching your every move
Playing a little-boy game
Always with something to prove
Waiting to cut you down, making it hard to live
With only one thing to do
Cut me first, make it easy
Now you will be free
Now that nothing depends on me
Tapping, til I drive you insane
Now you will be free
With no sick people tugging on your sleeve
Your big head has that “more room to grow”
A glory I will never know
A glory I will never know

Sassy, The Magazine, Book, The Blog

I wasn’t a teenage girl in the 90s but Sassy made me wish I was. In case you don’t know, there’s a book and a blog. At last, some 90s nostalgia that you can use.

Sugar Town Schedule For Tonight

Hottt flier designed by Beretta 76.

9:00 Doors, DJ’s
10:00-10:15ish Elizabeth Fiend
10:15-10:30ish Richard B Grande
10:30 DJ’s
11:00-11:30 Bells Bells Bells
11:45-12:15 Beretta 76

12:30-1:45 DJ’s

See ya there!