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Kings
of the world: (l-r) Mark Gamsjager, Mark Foster, Jeff
Potter and Jim Haggerty. Photo by: Joe Putrock
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Bring
the Family
To the Lustre Kings’ Mark Gamsjager,
good music is good music—and so much the better if it appeals
to everybody
By
Erik Hage
As
a musical genre and a culture of style, rockabilly has always
been a magnet for purists and zealots: the greaser with hooded
eyes in the bowling shirt flailing away at his standup bass
with tattooed arms, sweeping pompadour spilling into his face;
sultry black-haired beauties with high crimped bangs, whited-out
faces and deep red lips; Stray Cats-hating collectors with
piles of rare 45s and a Mecca-like reverence for Sun Studios,
that cradle of rockabilly civilization.
This is not simply ’50s rock & roll, but a very specific,
rhythmically kinetic hybrid of hillbilly music and R&B,
and a fashion mode that has wound its way from Elvis Presley
through (avowed rockabilly nuts) the Clash and beyond. And
outside of Elvis, Eddie Cochran and Carl Perkins, many of
the form’s early heroes—Peanuts Wilson, Charlie Feathers,
Sleepy LaBeef—aren’t household names but preciously guarded
cult heroes. Rockabilly is fanaticism at its finest—and it
still pulls along plenty of young, attractive hipsters and
aging vinyl obsessives alike.
Head Lustre King Mark Gamsjager—with his towering, venerably
gray pompadour, vintage style and Gretsch guitar—may look
like a rockabilly star (and he certainly sings and plays some
burning rockabilly), but he takes a more catholic approach
to his band’s music, which he simply terms “American rock
& roll.” He claims his favorite Lustre King shows are
“When I see people in their 70s rockin’, and kids. . . . I’d
rather hear that one kid likes one particular track on our
album than a whole room of stuck-up rockabilly people.”
In his magnanimity, he even stands up for a frequent and sacred
target: “For whatever reason, if you talk to traditional rockabilly
people about the Stray Cats, they put them down,” he notes.
“But they’re half the reason why people my age listen to [rockabilly].
. . . When I first heard the Stray Cats, they blew my mind.”
Gamsjager’s constant refrain is that he’s an entertainer and
a businessman, and he’s not out to impress what he calls “the
rockabilly nazis.”
In fact, Gamsjager doesn’t leave the impression of a man solely
absorbed by rockabilly or ’50s rock & roll at all, but
of someone on a distinctly American music journey, from the
time that he founded his high-school bluegrass band years
ago to his current place at the helm of a successful national
touring act that has just released a third LP, That’s Showbiz.
(In fact, Gamsjager often refers to his music as “roots-based
music,” and he recently played an acoustic show at the Troy
Ale House—with esteemed players Bill Kirchen, John Tichy and
Kevin Maul, among others—that featured everything from gospel
to country to rockabilly.)
And the journey keeps rolling: Fresh off a jaunt through Texas
with guitar-slinger and former Commander Cody member Kirchen
(“He would get me up to do a couple of songs and I’d help
him out. . . . I earned my keep”), Mark and the Lustre Kings
are now out on a Midwestern tour as backing band for Wanda
Jackson, the legendary first lady of rockabilly and ’50s touring
partner of Elvis (who initially suggested the country-singing
Wanda try rockabilly).
Gamsjager founded the Lustre Kings as Jimmy Velvet & His
Traveling Companions (later the Jimmy Velvet Trio) in the
early ’90s in Long Island, bringing the endeavor upstate with
him when he relocated his family to Schenectady 12 years ago.
(He later moved to Greene County.) Seeing how there was an
actual entertainer named Jimmy Velvet, a name change soon
came about.
Today, the Lustre Kings (named after a bowling-ball cleaner)
primarily consist of Gamsjager, bass player Jim Haggerty,
drummer Mark Foster and keyboardist-songwriter Jeff Potter,
with the occasional lineup substitution or addition. Delmar
native Haggerty lives in Boston, and Foster’s college-teaching
duties don’t always allow him to be on the road. “The one
thing I guarantee is that, if you’re going to hire the Lustre
Kings, you’re going to get me,” Gamsjager points out.
The Kings also serve as a hub of sorts for the Capital Region’s
thriving rock & roll scene, with folks like singer Johnny
Rabb, prodigal son Eddie Angel of Los Straitjackets and former
Commander Cody member and longtime RPI professor John Tichy
often sitting in with the group. John’s son Graham Tichy,
voted the region’s best guitar player in Metroland
last year, is even a semi- regular member. (Graham also plays
in Detroit rockabilly band Bones Maki & the Sun Dodgers
and was a featured player in the recent Commander Cody &
His Lost Planet Airmen reunion concert in California.)
Our area rock & roll players aren’t just good on a local
level—a lot of them are respected nationally, and the Lustre
Kings are often at the center of things back home, whether
being joined by Rabb, Angel and the Tichys at the annual Elvis
tribute or on last summer’s Hudson River cruise on the Captain
J.P. And it’s remarkable how the musicians feed off each other
with positive energy and support each other’s efforts. “At
this [grass-roots] level and with this style of music, my
main thing is, you’ve got to be nice,” Gamsjager says. “The
only stars are in the sky.”
Gamsjager constantly emphasizes what a joy it is to play with
the members in his band, and consistently echoes his respect
for other local players. He remembers that his first concert
was a Commander Cody show that he hitchhiked to as a teen
on Long Island in the mid-’70s. “[Life’s] a big circle,” he
notes with a little bit of wonder. Gamsjager also remembers,
when he first moved to town, seeing Johnny Rabb at Bogies.
“He’d light up the room. . . . It was incredible,” he remembers.
“The place was packed. It’s something that you can’t
really re-create because the times are different.” Young guitar
phenom Tichy, whom Gamsjager has known for seven years and
who helped him pick songs for the latest album, also frequently
crops up in our conversation. “Graham is such a good guitar
player,” Gamsjager emphasizes. “I learn something from him
every time he plays.”
Besides an exhaustive playing schedule—he’s a full-time musician
and plays an intimidating range of functions, from private
parties and weddings to town concerts, festivals and tours—Gamsjager
also tries to bring nationally respected acts to our area
(though he’s hesitant to call himself a “promoter”). In recent
years he’s pulled in crooner Rosie Flores for an Ale House
show, as well as hot young San Antonio rockabilly players
Cave Catt Sammy. He’s also bringing acclaimed rockabilly revivalist
Deke Dickerson to the Ale House for a show on May 2.
“First
things first is . . . I have a business,” he points
out. “It happens to be a music business, but it’s a business.”
And in talking to folks like Eddie Angel, who owns his own
label, Spinout (and who was recently up for a Grammy with
Eddie “The Chief” Clearwater and Los Straitjackets), Gamsjager
took the next logical step and started his own label, Wild
Boar Records. That’s Showbiz—the group’s strongest,
most polished set yet—is the flagship release. Future efforts
include a Graham Tichy solo effort, which will be out in a
couple of months.
People in the know seem to be catching on to the Lustre Kings.
The 66-year-old (and still-vibrant) Wanda Jackson is a rockabilly
legend with a strong cult of fans around the world, and she
could pretty much have had her pick of rock & roll acts
to be her band on tour. (And it certainly would have been
easier—as the dates are primarily Midwestern—to call up a
band in Chicago or Cleveland.) But Wanda’s promoter and husband
“did his homework and talked to other people, and they all
gave us the thumbs up . . . which is good!” Gamsjager says.
Indeed it is “good”—it keeps the circle unbroken and connects
the dots between the brief, fervent days of early rock &
roll and those who make a life out of keeping it alive. But
what is it about this music that keeps it going, especially
since so much of the more bloated music of the late ’60s and
’70s has fallen by the wayside? “It’s just good music,” Gamsjager
says flatly, skirting any kind of overanalyzing. “It appeals
to kids. It appeals to adults. It’s not offensive . . . most
of the time. And you can dance to it. It’s got a good beat.”
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