By Ashley Zimmerman
By Dana Krangel
By John Hood
By Ashley Zimmerman
By David Von Bader
By Sayre Berman
By Steve Brennan
By Ashley Zimmerman
Every band has a story -- drugs, deception, debauchery. The Electras are no different. Formed in 1961 by prep school students Andy Gagarin, Jack Radcliffe, Peter Lang, Jon Prouty, Larry Rand, and current presidential hope-hope-hopeful John Kerry, the Electras enjoyed a two-year life span, playing their versions of classic garage and surf tunes at parties, dances, ice cream socials, and the occasional ballyhoo and/or sock hop, ultimately recording a full-length album in the band room of St. Paul's School in Concord, New Hampshire.
Though only 500 copies of the LP were originally pressed, recent events have provoked renewed interest in the material; two different versions of the album have been released. Republicans Gagarin and Radcliffe are putting out their own, available at www.johnkerryandtheelectras.com, whereas the remaining Electras, all Democrats, have chosen to donate proceeds from the reissue to the Kerry campaign; you can buy the latter version at www.electrasrockandrollband.com.
While Kerry descends on South Florida this week for a debate with George W. Bush at the University of Miami, an Electras episode of Behind the Music is being rushed through production. However, through a source who will remain anonymous, I have obtained the original, unedited transcripts from the BtM interviews, with which I have compiled this brief oral history of the Electras.
Andy Gagarin, maracas: We formed for the same reasons any band forms: to get chicks, you know? Pussy, beaver. Wait, do me a favor and don't use that last part, OK?
Peter Lang, drums: Well, we weren't originally called the Electras. We were... lemme think... it's been a while.
John Kerry, bass: The Pussy Chasers. It was my idea. But Radcliffe wouldn't go for it. Fuckin' Radcliffe -- a great piano man but kind of square.
Jack Radcliffe, piano: I'll bet Kerry called me "square," right? Look, I've got nothing against him, but you've gotta remember, this was 1961. The world wasn't ready for a band called the Pussy Chasers.
Kerry: These days bands have all kinds of lewd names. What's a Limp Bizkit anyway? All I'm saying is, I was ahead of my time.
Jon Prouty, guitar: Did we use drugs? Some of us did. I don't want to name names. But let's just say that those of us who did knew what it meant to inhale.
Lang: Our first show, I suppose it went off pretty well -- I mean, I don't remember most of it, so that's usually a good sign, right? Let's see, it was a house party. We only knew four or five tunes. And Kerry played with his back to the audience, I think. Come to think of it, Gagarin did too, which is weird. I mean, Gagarin played the maracas.
Gagarin: A lot of people think the maracas are easy. Not as much as you'd think. It takes timing, rhythm. Those guys never appreciated what I brought to the equation.
Larry Rand, guitar: Gagarin? He brought beer most of the time. That was important.
Lawrence Ackersly, St. Paul's school principal: Oh, I remember them. It's hard to forget a group of young men who had nearly every parent in the school banging down my door. Rabble-rousers, they were. Ruffians. Scamps.
Chuck Berry, musician: Did they invent rock? Shit. I wax 'em. We had a saying: You bake the cookies and I'll eat 'em. I think it's fair to say they baked a lot of cookies. Makin' sense?
Keith Richards, musician: Sheet. [laughs]I been thinking -- [laughs]. 'Cause... I mean... the Electras? Sheet.
Greil Marcus, rock critic: Their sound was a whole new America, a sound as big as the room, and when they'd play "Ya Ya" or "Shanghaied," they'd play the hell out of it (and own it) (and make it their own).
Lang: We had a solid run. Better than you'd expect from six guys dressed in turtlenecks [laughs]. And I gotta tell you, there's nothing like that feeling you get when you're on-stage. It's thrilling. I went on to become a doctor, and I've spent years working in ERs -- sewing limbs back on, treating gunshot wounds -- but man, compared to the thrill of playing a song like "Greenfields," with an audience of teenage girls throwing their poodle skirts on-stage... Thing is, though, I think we just lived too fast. I think... [pauses] ... I think we just flew too close to the sun, you know?
Col. Jack Jackson, CEO, Really Good Records: Of course I thought about bringing 'em into the studio. We all did. There was so much talent there. But you've got to understand that inviting the Electras into a proper recording studio, at that time, would have been disastrous. That bass player could drink you bankrupt in under a week, plus I didn't have the facilities to record maracas.
Kerry: 1962 was when things really went south. The reefer, the sex. Shit, one night Prouty and I nailed half the glee club and the entire front line of the St. Paul's field hockey team. We were getting away from what really mattered -- the music, you know?
Prouty: There was one show, some clown-and-pony deal in the parking lot of a Ford dealership, we were in the middle of "Guitar Boogie Shuffle," which was one of our more popular songs, and I look over and Kerry's cock is sticking right out of his pants; it's just poking out of his zipper, and he's got the biggest smile on his face. And of course, I'm like, "John!" And he looks at me like, "What?"