Motor City Shakedown
Former J. Geils Band frontman Peter Wolf joins me to talk about his new book, Aretha's British accent, the legacy of Fortune Records, the Electrifying Mojo, and his undying love for Detroit.
A previous version of this story first appeared in the Detroit Metro Times.
That bad boy from Boston, the funkiest man in the land, the former late-night radio DJ known as “the Woofa Goofa,” and arguably the greatest frontman in rock ’n’ roll history, the incomparable Peter Wolf recently took time out to talk with me about his new book, his new album, and the re-release of the classic 1972 J. Geils album “Full House,” recorded live in Detroit.
Dave Mesrey: Hey, Peter! Yamma gamma gooma looma to ya, sir! What’s goin’ on?
Peter Wolf: Oh, I see you speak my language!
Mesrey: Ha! Well, gibberish is my native tongue. It’s like my Uncle Mike used to say: “Shisky bisky isky whisky!” (I still don’t know what that means.)
Wolf: I think it means he wanted you to bring him a drink.
Mesrey: Ha! Well, that explains it! Alright, hey, Peter, thanks so much for taking time to talk with me. Let’s talk about some books!
So I saw an interview you gave to journalist Jim Braude a few years ago, where he asked if you were ever gonna write a memoir. And in response, you quoted Christopher Hitchens: “Everybody has a book in them, but it doesn’t mean everybody wants to read it.”
That reminded me of the time I met Hitchens years ago at a debate in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I wanted to share a quote with you that he gave me that day.
Wolf: Oh, please.
Mesrey: We were talking about his new book, God Is Not Great, and I told him I had a confession to make — that I hadn’t read the whole thing yet.
And he goes, “I don’t ask that you read it, only that you buy it.”
Wolf: [laughs] Well, he was somethin’ else. I read him and watched him on many a debate. His books and his chats on religion were pretty fiery. He was a devoted atheist, but more than that, he had trouble with the organized money aspect of organized religions and how they sort of pit one group against the other.
If he was alive now, Lord knows … we could use his voice. But his voice was always unpredictable. That’s what made him so interesting.
Mesrey: Your memoir opens with a quote from Orson Welles: “I’m not such a fool as to not take the moon very seriously.” There’s also the song you wrote with Will Jennings “Waiting on the Moon.” Clearly, you’ve spent some time howling at the moon.
How did you come up with the title for your book? And what does the moon mean to you?
Wolf: Well, the moon is sort of an ancient, mythic symbol that has many meanings. There’s the word lunacy … In Greek mythology, the moon was a woman. In many times, the moon had great powers. There’s a great Argentinian noir film where the moon is like a woman who goes out alone at night. There’s also the aspect of uncertainty waiting for the moon. It’s sort of a way of waiting for the night and a sense of anticipation. …
The moon has been prominent in many paintings and poetry and great doo-wop songs. It’s just always sort of been there. And so waiting for it, and waiting for what it might bring … waiting for the night, not unlike the great Bert Berns song “Here Comes the Night,” sung by Van Morrison with Them.
So it seemed an apt title.
Mesrey: Right on. So how is a book release different from an album release?
Wolf: It’s funny you say that, Dave, because I’m working on a new recording now — it’s about 85 percent finished.
Mesrey: Tell me about the new album. Are you working with “the A-team” again?
Wolf: Oh, yeah. Kenny White, Duke Levine, Kevin Barry, Marty Ballou, Shawn Pelton — the whole bunch. Many folks aren’t that familiar with my solo recordings, but they’re the ones that artistically are the most rewarding.
Mesrey: I’m especially fond of Sleepless.
Everybody in Detroit knows all the old Geils songs, but not everybody knows about the duets you recorded with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Merle Haggard, Neko Case, Shelby Lynne.
Wolf: Well, those are artists that I really admire, and as I was putting together this new recording, I thought, well, I’ll just put another one out, but it seems like it might go into the ether very quickly.
So I thought maybe this was the time to finally write my memoir because people have urged me to write a book for quite some time. I had sketched out some ideas on what a book might be many, many years ago, and so I took some of those themes and just started my one-finger typing, and one chapter slowly led to another.
I was fortunate enough to find a very helpful agent, and before long we were on Little, Brown and I had a real deadline, and so I really got to work. I’m the slowest typer because I just use one finger, but I’ve got the fastest index finger — and thank god for spell-correct!
Mesrey: It’s great to hear Kenny’s still part of the “A team.”
Wolf: Oh, yeah. He and I are like brothers, and I even thank him in the acknowledgements in the book. He’s been so helpful in guiding me into a new realm. And though our music is different, the brotherhood and soulful connection we have is pretty strong.
Mesrey: If you had to pick one album that illustrates what the J. Geils Band was all about, which one would it be?
Wolf: Oh, without hesitation, I’d say it was Full House (1972), which was recorded live in Detroit at the Cinderella Ballroom. The interaction between us and the audience — it just goes like a steamroller. In fact, Rhino Records is re-releasing that album shortly, and I’m working on some new liner notes.
Mesrey: That’s awesome! That album still really resonates with old eastsiders like me who hung out at — or even just grew up near — the Cinderella Ballroom.
Wolf: I heard that they tore it down not long after we played there and that it’s still a vacant lot. Is that true, Dave?
Mesrey: Yeah, that building’s been gone a long time, Peter. … So, I have to say my favorite track off of Full House is “Lookin’ for a Love.” Wasn’t that a Bobby Womack song?
Wolf: Yeah, the Womack Brothers, but Bobby didn’t actually write that song. It was written by J.W. Alexander and Zelda Samuels. Sam Cooke had a label called SAR. The “S” stood for “Sam,” the “A” stood for “Alexander,” and the “R” stood for “Records.” And so Sam was one of the early pioneers — Black artists — who had his own label, not unlike Berry Gordy. Sam wrote a lot of the songs, but J.W. wrote “Lookin’ for a Love,” and it was based on a gospel song that Bobby and his brothers recorded for Sam called “Couldn’t Hear Nobody Pray.”
Bobby had a version he recorded with his brothers in a group called the Valentinos. And later he recorded a faster version as a solo artist. If you go on YouTube, there’s a great clip of him and his brothers singing it on The Midnight Special — he tears it up, boy!
I always loved their versions, and we just sort of Geil-ized it.
RELATED: Goodbye to guitarist J. Geils (Detroit Metro Times, April 12, 2017)
Mesrey: There’s a chapter in your book about how the Geils band made the move from Atlantic Records to EMI in the late ’70s. Next thing you know you guys are at the top of the charts — and a guy from Detroit played a big role in that.
Wolf: Yeah, you know, and it was just sheer luck that I met Jim Mazza. I was sort of representing the Geils band in a lot of our business affairs, and as our deal with Atlantic was coming to an end, I went from one record company head to another record company head looking for a new deal, and it just seemed like everyone talked the talk but didn’t wanna do anything. And I was at my lowest point, and I remember feeling like this just isn’t gonna happen.
Then one night I was sitting with my lawyer (Abe Somer) at the Palm steakhouse in L.A., and this younger fella comes over and introduces himself because he was a big Geils fan. And lo and behold, he was starting a new record label for Capitol Records.
And he was so excited seeing me at the restaurant because he was a Detroit fellow. And he said, “Man, I used to see the band at Cobo Hall … my dream is to sign a band like the J. Geils Band.”
Then later that night, I met his boss (EMI/Capitol Records CEO Bhaskar Menon), and we went out for a wild night on the town in L.A. …
Several weeks later, we were EMI America recording artists. We recorded Sanctuary, Love Stinks, and Freeze Frame for that company. They were so dedicated to us — unlike Atlantic — and they gave us so much attention that the albums really did well.
Mesrey: And Freeze Frame goes to number 1.
Wolf: Throughout Europe and the United States.
Mesrey: The story in your book about Bhaskar Menon and his Porsche getting smashed in the parking lot of the Palm … that’s laugh-out-loud hilarious. I can’t believe the door falls off and then you just tie him into his seat with a rope — and then he drives away like that! That’s ridiculous!
So what I wanna know, Peter, is … can you still tie a knot that good?
Wolf: Well, I don’t know! I think what we had [to drink] beforehand certainly helped. We were all pretty looped … we tied him tight! There was no way he was gettin’ out!
Mesrey: That’s what got you guys such a good deal with EMI — the ol’ rope-a-dope!
Wolf: The ol’ rope-a-dope!
Mesrey: That chapter really captures the sense of frustration an artist can go through just trying to get signed.
Wolf: Most people just know about the Geils band’s success, but we had a long, long, long period of hard times. The record business at that time didn’t have all the sort of corporate conglomerate … if somebody really wanted to sign you, they could just do it. It didn’t need meetings and going through all the stuff that, unfortunately, happens today. You don’t have those — they do exist — independent labels and small labels that are really good.
And because of the Internet, distribution is, of course, easier. But there was a time when, I believe, it was easier than it is now. Groups today can be known, but the ocean is so big. It’s a different landscape in trying to establish yourself these days than when the Geils band first started (in the late 1960s). I’m not saying it’s better or worse — it’s just really different.
Mesrey: Perhaps the most poignant chapter in your book is the one about your first love, Edie, and the song the two of you shared, Nolan Strong’s “The Wind.” (Listen to Wolf tell the tragic tale in his own voice.) Several years ago, the Detroit Metro Times ranked “The Wind” among the Top 100 Detroit songs ever. Nolan Strong had a real impact on you, huh?
Wolf: He sure did. And he was Smokey Robinson’s biggest influence at one point, vocally. Nolan and the Diablos, of course, were on Fortune Records — one of the great small labels that was just so unique and had such a unique sound. To this day, there’s something magical to it.
Mesrey: Did you ever visit their old store in the Cass Corridor?
Wolf: Every time I’d go to Detroit, I’d always visit Fortune Records cuz they had a record store, and in the back was a sort of dirt-floor studio — and that’s the same thing that happened with Stax and Sun Records in the early days in Memphis. Up front was the business, and in back was the little studio where Elvis and Johnny Cash and Howlin’ Wolf all recorded.
Mesrey: You came to Detroit in the mid ’80s to record a duet with Aretha on Who’s Zoomin’ Who. Where did that all go down?
Wolf: That was recorded at United Sound.
Mesrey: Oh, right on. Well, since you go way back with John Lee Hooker, you’ll appreciate that that’s where he first recorded “Boogie Chillen.”
Wolf: That I’m not aware of, but that would totally make sense.
Mesrey: I don’t have the date in front of me, but I think it was 1948.
Wolf: You’re exactly right!
Mesrey: Had you met Aretha before you recorded that duet with her?
Wolf: Yeah, I got to meet her — not as formally as I did in the studio with Narada in Detroit. But we were both Atlantic recording artists, and I got to watch her record at one point (in the early ’70s) because I was very friendly with King Curtis, who ran the studio in New York and was the bandleader for Aretha for a long time and for Sam Cooke.
Mesrey: I love King Curtis — I’m very familiar with his work.
Wolf: Dave, you’re like a walking encyclopedia!
Mesrey: Nah, Peter, you’re the professor, man. I’m just a student — I’m just a freshman in the College of Musical Knowledge.
Wolf: Well, you’re a pretty good student — you’re a Class A student in my book. From Christopher Hitchens to the Detroit Historical Society to Muhammad Ali — man, you’re jumpin’ all over the place.
Mesrey: Ha! Well, I learned it from you!
Wolf: You should write a book!
Mesrey: Ha! I’m workin’ on it!
Wolf: But, boy, I tell ya, when I walked into United Sound that day and Aretha started talking to me in the queen’s English … It took me a while — and until the producer told me what it was all about, I had no idea.
Mesrey: Yeah, it was that whole Joan Collins thing … I guess Aretha was really into Dynasty at the time. And then there’s the story of you holding Aretha’s gown at the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame tribute to Sam Cooke with Solomon Burke — you’ll never forget that, will you?
Wolf: That was some evening. She just kicked off her heels and said, “Peter, grab the train of my gown.”
Mesrey: You say in your book that Detroit was a spiritual second home to you. What makes you say that?
Wolf: Well, when we got on the road and we first got to Detroit, the audience reaction was unlike any other outside of Boston. During the early years … every time we would hit Detroit, it always got bigger and bigger. And the audience was just so enthusiastic. So we were always looking forward — “Let’s go back to Detroit!” And every time we went back, we were never let down — the crowds would always almost double in size.
Also, Detroit at that time — I think because people were coming from their mom and dad working in the [auto] plants — money was not the easiest to get. But when they went out to spend it, especially if they were going to a show, they wanted their money’s worth.
As Carl Perkins said, “One for the money,” but “two for the show.” And we tried to live up to that. And Detroit audiences always — they got crazy, and we got twice as crazy. We’d get twice as crazy, and they got three times as crazy, and it was like a real love affair.
We always looked forward to — we always were excited — even if we were on the road for weeks doing one-nighters … by the time we got to Detroit … our adrenaline just picked up. It was like makin’ love — once you start, you just didn’t wanna stop.
“By the time we got to Detroit … our adrenaline just picked up.
It was like makin’ love — once you start, you just didn’t wanna stop.”
—Peter Wolf
Mesrey: In the early ’80s when I was a kid, you couldn’t go two or three days listening to Detroit radio without hearing something off of Full House (1972) or Blow Your Face Out (1976). Guys my age and the generation ahead of me … even if we never saw the Geils band live — we all know the words to the “Raputa the Beauta” intro to “Musta Got Lost.” It’s like a rite of passage … it’s like we had to memorize it for a test.
Wolf: Well, you’re bein’ real kind. You know, the unfortunate thing, Dave, is that I’d fail it because I always have a hard time … I know that when we get close to Detroit, people wanna hear it, and they really wanna hear it pretty close to [the live version they remember], but the story, as it was recorded, was spontaneous. You could probably do a better job of it than me.
Peter Wolf on his classic “Raputa the Beauta” rap:
“The story, as it was recorded, was spontaneous.
You could probably do a better job of it than me.”
One day when I’m out in Detroit, we gotta connect and you can come backstage and we’ll start our “Raputa the Beauta” rap.
Mesrey: Waiting on the Moon, obviously, is a memoir, but it’s not just about Peter Wolf. What compelled you to tell all these incredible tales?
Wolf: Well, it’s been my labor of love, and you know … I tried to put in as many musical references as I could, but mainly I tried to take the people that I idolized and try to bring them to life. I tried to make the book about the people I was fortunate enough to encounter along the way.
Mesrey: You were born in the Bronx, Peter … does that mean you’re a Yankees fan?
Wolf: Well, I’m gonna admit somethin’ to you, Dave: I hated the Yankees. I was a Brooklyn Dodger fan — the Brooklyn Bums! I’d go out to Ebbets Field because they were — first of all, the funkiest-lookin’ team. And they were the first interracial team. And they signed Jackie Robinson — so for me, that was it.
That’s why John Lee Hooker remained a Dodger fan his whole life. The Dodgers were so progressive, and they broke the color barrier in baseball. … And goin’ out to Ebbets Field in Brooklyn was not unlike being in an audience in Detroit. They were just wild!
Yankee Stadium — ah, it was OK, but goin’ out to Ebbets Field, man, that crowd loved the Brooklyn Dodgers, as did I.
Mesrey: I never got to see Ebbets Field before they tore it down, but from pictures it reminds me a lot of Tiger Stadium in Detroit.
Wolf: There was a similarity. But for me, I lost my interest in baseball because when the Dodgers moved the franchise to L.A., I realized it was really all about money.
Mesrey: You’ve lived in Massachusetts for a long time now … who do you root for when the Yankees and Red Sox go head-to-head?
Wolf: Well, I have to say I go for the Red Sox. There’s nothing like being in Fenway Park at a Yankees-Red Sox game — that’s for sure.
Mesrey: Tiger Stadium and Fenway Park actually opened on the same day: April 20, 1912.
Wolf: What’s the oldest stadium in the country?
Mesrey: Well, Fenway is the oldest major-league ballpark, but there’s an old Negro Leagues ballpark in Birmingham, Alabama, called Rickwood Field. I think that’s the oldest professional baseball stadium in the country. And, you know, MLB announced last year that they now consider some of the old Negro Leagues to be major leagues — they even played an MLB game at Rickwood last year.
Mesrey: What comes to mind when you think of Cobo Arena?
Wolf: Well, I remember we used to invite this young woman saxophonist to join us sometimes up in Cobo Hall. And I used to call up the DJ — the Electrifying Mojo. Do you remember him?
Mesrey: Oh, yeah! I used to listen to Mojo all the time in the early ’80s. He was on WJLB at that time.
Wolf: Well, we invited him down to Cobo Hall, and he came down with his gold cape and his entourage, and we brought him up onstage. I used to listen to him every night. And I believe he was one of the first people to really help put Prince on the map.
Prince is in the book. … He used to come out to see the Geils band when we’d play his hometown in Minneapolis. He’d just sit backstage all alone. I remember one time goin’ and yakkin’ with him, and we talked about James Brown, who we both loved.
Mesrey: Do you remember where you were the night MLK was assassinated?
Wolf: Yes, that night my first band, the Hallucinations, opened for Muddy Waters at the Boston Tea Party. I had to break the news to Muddy, and he broke the news to the audience.
Mesrey: And then James Brown played Boston the following night?
Wolf: Yeah, James Brown was scheduled to play the Boston Garden, which was sort of like Boston’s Cobo Hall. The mayor, Kevin White, asked James if the local public TV station could videotape his show, and James agreed. They played that videotape over and over throughout the entire night on TV. And that’s one of the reasons why there was no violence that night in Boston, like they had in other cities.
Everywhere you walked in the Black neighborhoods, you could hear James Brown blasting out from every window. First of all, TV going on all night was unique for that time. And they just kept repeating the concert over and over and over. Over the years, there were a few copies of that videotape floating around, and when Prince found out I had one, man, did he want that copy, which he eventually got.
The video is black-and-white. It’s pretty unique, and at one point the audience gets so riled up that they start rushing the stage, and James has to stop the music and try to calm the crowd down because … the night was filled with this strange, kind of eerie electricity. And I tried to capture that feeling in the book — in the Muddy Waters chapter.
Mesrey: Do you remember the first time the Geils band played Detroit?
Wolf: Well, I remember one of the first times we played Detroit — it was an outdoor show. I believe Bob Seger was on the bill, along with a group called Früt. And Mitch Ryder played — I was such a Mitch Ryder fan. I’d seen him a few years before in New York at a Murray the K show. It was at the 58th Street RKO — a movie theater — with the Young Rascals and Cream and the Who. Everybody did three songs, and at the end of their third song, the Who demolished their instruments, and we never saw anything like that before. It was unbelievable — couldn’t believe it that people would just take their guitars and smash ’em. It left you speechless. And then after the Who came Wilson Pickett and the Midnight Movers, with Buddy Miles on drums. And after that, the headliner was Mitch Ryder and his ensemble, because he had a whole orchestra at that point.
So … I got to know Mitch — I ended up going to his house, and we became pretty friendly in those early years in Detroit.
Mesrey: Did you ever make it out to the 20 Grand club?
Wolf: Oh, man, that was a great place to visit when you’re out in Detroit because you got to see the Temptations and Marvin Gaye and Billy Stewart …
I remember the [Geils] band was staying at the Gold T Motel one day, and we were going into the dining room — this was the day we hired Bill Szymczyk to be our producer for our second record (1971’s The Morning After). And there in the dining room was the great R&B group the Dells, celebrating something like their 17th anniversary together as a group. Billy Stewart was checking in to the hotel that day … Detroit was just an epicenter for so many great artists that I admired.
Mesrey: So there’s this legendary Detroit story that the Geils band played a small, incognito club gig one night back in ’79 at Bookie’s. You guys were billed as “Jimmy and the Juke Joints,” so it was like, if you know, you know. And this was after a Geils show at Pine Knob — how did that come about?
Wolf: Oh, yeah. Bookie’s was an alternative club. It was a small, little bar — a lot of the sort of hipper bands and alternative bands and punk bands played there — bands that wanted to do it their own way. It was sort of left of center. And we figured, well, hell, we started in clubs like that. We love Detroit so much — let’s go check out Bookie’s! And I still have my little Bookie’s pin that somebody gave me. Bookie’s was tiny, but it was great. It had a lot of dedicated energy. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Mesrey: Man, those were the days! Hey, thanks so much for taking time to talk with me, Peter. I learned a lot.
Wolf: Well, we’ve all got a lot to learn, Dave. And remember: It doesn’t matter when you were born or how old you are — if it’s in you, it’s got to come out!
🎶Shakedown. Breakdown.🎶❤️🌃🌇📰🐺