STEALING ROBERT PLANT'S SCOTCH (Evan Dando & his sister)

 So I had been working up at WDRE for awhile...and by the time 1993 rolled around the guys that owned the station were branching out into syndication. Our program director Tom Calderone was hosting a nationally syndicated show called "Modern Rock Live". Although we were based on Long Island, this show was taped and sent out from New York City. Tom had always said I could come up any time I wanted to meet whatever singer, band, rock star he was interviewing.....if I liked. I never went.
  I didn't think much about that show at all. That was until one day I received a call in my office at WDRE from some guy at Atlantic Records. He said Evan Dando from The Lemonheads was scheduled to be on "Modern Rock Live" that night and that he was bringing Robert Plant with him.
  HOLD ON, WAIT A MINUTE!!!!....so I let that process in my head for a second and said, "Dando is bringing Plant to the interview? Thee Robert Plant? As in Led Zeppelin?""
  "Yes."
  "Can we promote this?"
  "Yes."
   Fast forward 6 hours: Now I'm standing in a studio, up high on 52nd St. in Manhattan with my buddy Andre....[DJ Andre, Dre Dog from WDRE (He was a board op at the time)]. We see Robert & Evan along with the usual crew of record company reps...publicists..and tag-a-longs. We talk quick, get a picture taken, and I have Plant sign Led Zeppelin 4...but it's all fast, and done. No contact.

That's me on the left with jet black hair, then Robert Plant, next Andre...and the record company rep.

It was turning into an uneventful evening when all of a sudden I eavesdropped on Evan Dando telling Plant about some bar they were going to. So I grabbed Andre...headed straight to that bar, which was only a few blocks away. We waited outside and after a half an hour a Lincoln Town Car pulled up and the whole crew climbed out....Dando, Plant, and entourage. The record company rep sees us and says, "Holy shit! You guys hang out here? Come on." ....and gestured a wave for us to join'em.

   So we all walk inside, and by complete coincidence, 2 girls I knew from my neighborhood are sitting at a booth as we walk in....and they're like, "Oh my god!!! That's Robert Plant....with...with Dave Jemmott."

  So I give them a condescending nod and walk towards the back of the room with my rock star friends. I belly up right next to Robert Plant. Andre is next to me. Next to him is Evan Dando & his sister. Plant has nothing to do with me. Apparently, my tits weren't big enough. We drink.

  After a few minutes, Plant finishes his drink (Johnny Walker Red & soda) and asks the bartender, "Can I have another?"

  The bartender makes it, places it in front of Plant. I elbow Andre and say, "Watch this."

  I grab Plant's drink and chug it down, one gulp. I slam the glass down and slide it back in front of him.

  Plant nonchalantly, picks up the glass, looks into it, and says, "Can I have another?"

  The bartender is like, "Holy shit, he just downed that!"...but makes a new one and places it directly in front of Plant.

  With that , Andre & I start cracking up....and Evan Dando says, "What the fuck are you guys doing?"

  I look up and laugh, "I'm stealing Plant's drinks!!!"

  Dando shakes his head and says, "You guys are fucked up."...as he moves over and puts his arm around me...he orders some beers and we drank together for the next hour or so.

Me, Evan Dando, Andre, & Evan's "so-called" sister

   

The next day Evan came out to WDRE studios and was brought into Malibu Sue's office. There I was behind a desk typing. I looked up and said, "Hi."

  He looked at me and was totally confused. He slurred, "Hey!!! You're that guy from the bar last night."
  

RADIOHEAD STORY : #1

  I started as an intern at WDRE out on Long Island in April 1990., within two weeks Malibu Sue hooked me up with a paying gig doing data entry. From that I started producing her "Top 30 Count Down". A Casey Kasem-ish count down of the weeks top requested songs at WDRE as well as a cross section of record sales from local independent record shops across our listening area, as well as Square Circle, Record World, and Tower Records.
  I would do my research (pre-Google) via communication by telephone and fax to record company personnel. I would also thumb through endless magazines, fanzines..etc...
  Anyway, Sue (Malibu Sue) offered up her office for me to work in. Prior to that...I moved my manila folders from place to place around the radio station. So, right from the beginning, as I was researching facts about "our" next count down. ...various musicians would show up to be interviewed and need a place to hang out before going on air. They need a safe place away from gauging eyes of "sales reps", "interns", "goofy radio personalities",...etc....Sooooo they put these people in Malibu Sue's office. The office where I worked.
  I met many artists this way. They'd be shuffled off to Malibu Sue's office, pushed inside, and there was me. Little ole Dave Jemmott, writing, calling, faxing....and as soon as they were led in and the door was closed behind them, I'd stand up and introduce myself.. I'd offer them coffee and get back to "my" work. Leaving them alone.
  Sometimes conversations would come to me. Sometimes they wouldn't.

 Anyway, by 1993 I had had quite a few experiences meeting musicians, famous and not quite famous. When this band named "Radiohead" where out supporting the "Pablo Honey" LP & the single "Creep". They stopped by for an interview. They were all stuffed in my office. After their "on air" with Malibu Sue, they were going to SPRATS nightclub in Westbury for a "Meet & Greet" autograph signing session while Malibu Sue  and I did WDRE's "Party Outta Bounds" Weekend Kick Off!!!!

   The tour manager & some record company guy tell the band they have to now go "SPRATS" and "meet & greet"....they are not happy.
   The record company guy asks me if I know where "SPRATS" is?....I do....and not only do I know, but I'm suppose to work there from 4:00 - 6pm. Doing "Radio Emcee Shit".
  I tell him it's just up the block and I'd show them the way, but my car is the shop. So he says, "Why don't you hop in the limousine with us?"
  Twenty minutes later I'm in a limo with RADIOHEAD, their manager, and a record company rep, I'm sitting next to Thom Yorke. Thom's head is up against the window. We are driving on Merrick Ave. He's staring out at Eisenhower Park. I look at guitarist Jonny Greenwood and ask, "What the fuck are you guys doing going to SPRATS? The crowd sucks. You'll be lucky if they know who the fuck you are. All young yuppies, Mother Fuckers."
  I look forward. The record company guy is giving me the "cut it" symbol...slash across his throat....and Thom Yorke lefts his head off the car's window and says, "I FUCKING told you so." Collasping back into the closed window.
  We arrive at SPRATS. Pull in back. The band waits. They rest, we go inside. Set up a folding table. Lay out 8x10 photos and Sharpies. People start showing up, drinking, eating. We bring the band in. They sit at the folding table......and wait. After a few minutes some twenty-something guy dressed in a business suit approaches the table and asks, "So are you guys in a band or something?'
  Thom Yorke gets up and walks out.

The End.

Getting Paid $40 to See Pixies (Resurrecting the Ghost of Studio 54)

  I La La Love The Pixies. I've seen them 6 or 7 times. (Frank Black once. The Breeders twice). In 1991 their Trompe le Monde Tour stopped in New York at The New Ritz. The venue was once home to Studio 54. I got two pairs of tickets for free from WDRE, the radio station I was affiliated with at the time. I went to the show with my buddy Ivano from Italy, Matty the Horse (The WDRE Van Driver) & his girlfriend. 

  We drove into New York City from Long Island and parked over on 9th Ave. The four of us were walking down 54th St. toward the venue when we were pounced on by the usual swarm of scalpers...and their cries, "Who needs tickets?"..."Who's selling?"...etc... I saw a scalper I had dealt with before and said, "Hello.".

  He asked if we had extra tickets. I told him, "No."  He then asked (in his almost Russian accent), "Are you on the list or do you have actual tickets?"

  "We have tickets. No guest list tonight."

  He said, "I'll give you guys ten bucks a piece...and still get you into the show if you give me those tickets."

  "Wait.....I hand you these tickets. You hand me $40 and then you STILL get us into the show?", I questioned.

  "Yes."

  I looked at my friends. Matty & his girl shrugged. Ivano was like, "No fucking way!!!" (I told Ivano to be quiet and follow my lead.) 

  "Let's do it." I said as I reached into my pocket, pulled out the tickets & handed them over. This stocky, Eastern European scalper held up the tickets to the sky, looked at them and quickly shoved them into his jacket pocket. Reaching into his jeans, he pull out a wad of twenties and handed me two...and said, "Let's go."

  We walked pass the venue. Through the crowd out front and stopped at the building next door. The scalper said,     "OK. Two at a time. Who's going first?" 

 We all looked at each other, dumbfounded. I turned to the scalper and said, "Me! Me and him." Pointing to Ivano.

 The scalper told us to follow him into the building. He told the other two to wait and he'd be back for them in five minutes. 

  We walk in and follow this guy to the elevator. He presses the button and turns to me and with his thick Baltic/Russian/Ukraine..whatever accent says, "This is how they used to sneak people into Studio 54. You know Studio 54?, disco, very popular disco, it was." We wait a few seconds and .."DING!" The doors open and the three of us step inside. The doors close and we head down to the basement. 

  The doors open. Its dark. You can smell the damp air. "Ssssssh...this way. Stay close. Watch your step."

  This guy, that I've only met on the streets of New York to do illegal activity, leads us down a dingy corridor, Exposed cinder block walls. Puddles splashing with each step. We get to a doorway, look in. Across the room is a hole in the wall and there's a light on the other side. "Go to the hole over there and wait for instructions."

  At this point, my friend from Italy grabs my arm and whispers firmly, "NO FUCKING WAY."

  I tell him to be brave. We walk across, through the darkness and just as we are a yard from the hole...a hand reaches through and gestures to hurry. I'm the first one through. Ivano right behind. Now we are standing in a brightly lit room. There are walk in refrigerators and industrial equipment laying about and this shady looking guy points down the hallway to a stairwell. He says, "Go up those stairs. Open the door and you're in."

  We bolt! Down the hall. Up the stairs. Stopping at the landing, we can hear the music blasting, there's a door on the left and a door on the right. I grab the door knob on the right and we rush in. We are now standing behind the bar in The Ritz. The bartenders look at us. We turn around and run to the other door. We open it. Step out. WE ARE IN!!! 

  We run into the crowd. Hug. High five!!!! Ten minutes later Matty & his girl emerge, smiling. Matty grabs me and says, "Holy shit!!! That was c-c-c-c-razy!!!!"

PIXIES KILLED IT THAT NIGHT. They ended with "U Mass", one of my favorites.

I got this sticker that night.

REPUBLICAN PARTY PLANS TO LOSE THE 2012 ELECTION.

Who is in control of the Republican Party? Can they be seen? From the looks of The GOP's candidate roster, they can't. They are laying low. They have no intention of a 2012 Republican Presidential win. They have fed America a cavalcade of distractions. Herman Cain is character. Michele Bachmann has less appeal than Sarah Palin. Rick Perry is not "W".  Ron Paul, nope. Mitt Romney is a Mormon. Jon Huntsman...who? Newt Gringrich is hawking DVDs & books (This is his QVC).

The  Republicans will block anything put forth to advance jobs, infrastructure, or recovery for this economic crisis. THE ONLY THING WORSE THAN 4 YEARS is 8 YEARS. So they are planning on an Obama win, next election.

Republicans have NO plan on winning this election. They plan on losing. The economy is so far in the shitter that they would never jump in to save it. They will let it ride.


I predict, Dave Jemmott

President Barack Obama will win a 2nd Term : I Predict

Ronald Reagan was president when I first realized I didn't like the President. I was a child/teenager of the Reagan Years....and PUNK ROCK taught me to HATE him. My friends and I, the people I admired, the bands I was drawn to. They all saw Ronald Reagan as a throwback...a man out of time. I agreed. We agreed. That man offered nothing for us. We, the youth, were brushed off. This only made me question his "being" more. I still don't like him....and it's a SHAME they named an airport for this man, after what he did to the air traffic controllers.

George H. W. Bush, 8 years later he got in. (I didn't vote for this man.) "READ MY LIPS".....I still hated him from "Iran-Contra". He was so old school and had such as sense of entitlement...it was sickening. He thought he was a shoe-in for '92...but it turned out he was a loafer.

Bill Clinton (William Jefferson "Bill" Clinton) I voted for him. I made money while he was in office. My life was carefree. Then he deregulated banks. 

George W. Bush This guy came into office with a whirlwind of "election fraud", "election speculation" around him. He "won". That NEVER sat right. The BIGGEST act of WAR ever carried out against us, THE UNITED STATES of AMERICA happened on his watch. His reaction was to invade a country that had NOTHING to do with that. George W. Bush was NEVER Presidential. When he spoke...my skin crawled.  It was the first time I was embrassed by our leader.

Barack Obama.  I voted for this man. I had hope. I believed he was a big step in a new direction. President Barack Obama is a politician. His try at bipartisanship has failed. I can easily blame Congress...but this guy needs to step up. I need more. We need more. That said, President Barack Obama will win a second term. I just hope things get done.

THE GOP had 7: After the debate tonight. The GOP have none. There is NOT a person up there, that is better, has the answers, or is capable of beating the current Administration.

This is my prediction.

Pimping Out my Body for Medical Research

   Back in 1996 a very straight-laced co-worker of mine, named John, approached me and asked, "Hey, you wanna make some easy money?"
  This caught me off guard. A flood of "one liner" responses entered my brain, but I refrained and sought more information. He said his brother has been participating in research studies at a facility here on Long Island and gets paid anywhere from $50 to $100 an hour.
  These studies can be as simple as checking your blood pressure after consuming various amounts of caffeine to more intensive quarantining at a local motel after being exposed to a head cold and taking pills to relieve the symptoms. Never knowing whether or not you're taking a placebo or real medicine.
  I asked a few questions and four days later I was sitting in a waiting room in Great Neck. I signed up for a three day study for three hours a day for a rate of $100 an hour. I had to be there at 9am Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a test on antacids.

 I had been instructed not to eat or drink anything since 9pm the night before. My name was called, I filled out a questionnaire on a clipboard and was led into a back room with four other guinea pigs. We were seated around a conference table and told not to talk to one another. A nurse came in pushing a cart with five devices each about the size of a walkman, on it. There was an aerosol can with a nozzle on it, too. Each of these "walkman" looking things had a set of wires in a tube about two feet long attached to it.

  The nurse walked up to "victim" number one and picked the aerosol nozzle. "Do you have a preferred nostril?", she asked, nonchalantly. She then sprayed lubricant up this poor saps nose. Grabbing the walkman thingy she fed the wires encased tubing up the nose and down the throat of this guy. He was gagging, tearing up. Grunting.
  "Yes, I know. It's a little uncomfortable.", she said.
  I glanced at the other three people in the room and they were all white as ghosts. I asked myself. "What the fuck am I doing here?"...but sat there calmly watching as the nurse went from one person to the next....jamming this thing down everyone's throat.
  Everyone was choking. One woman was crying...and then it was my turn. I was freaking out on the inside but on the outside: Cool as a cucumber.
  She locked the nozzle on my left nostril and sprayed.
 "Argggggggh!!!! What the hell? That...that...that tastes like...like...gross....IS THAT BANANA?!"
  Anyone that knows me knows I hate three things. Fish. Cheese....and BANANAS!!!!!!
  Nurse Ratched looks at me and says, "Yes. It's banana flavored, like circus peanuts, to help the tube slide down...and it tastes good."
  "Tastes good? I HATE BANANAS!!!", I gagged.
  Taking a deep breath, I said "Just do it!"

  She grabbed the tube, tilted my head back and down my throat it went. Nice & easy. No choking. No pain. No tears. Just a slight pressure in my esophagus. It didn't bother me...except for the nasal banana drip. I was ok.
  She flicked a switch on the machine and a pH reading popped on the screen. She wrote down everyone's results. Told us to sit quiet and she'd be back in 30 minutes to administer medicine. I looked around the room and saw four miserable people wallowing in agony. I picked up the New York Post and began to read, just like I was sitting at my kitchen table.
  Thirty minutes later we were given unmarked tablets. Our monitors were read and read again every 30 minutes. After three hours, she pulled the tube out of my head and went one by one removing each.
  "Ok. I'll see you all back her in two days."
  "No way! I can't go through this again. Keep your God damn money!!!", sobbed the crying lady, as she ran out the door.

 I returned Wednesday & Friday and went through it again, but both times I said, "No lube for me, I like it raw." (I received no laughter.)
  That last day everything was going along smoothly and at the tests end the nurse went around one by one removing each device. Finally coming to me.
 "Ok, Mr. Jemmott, you know the drill. Take a deep breath and exhale through your nose as I pull the tube out. Alright, on the count of three. One. Two. Three."
  Sliding up from my stomach, up my throat and just about the enter my nasal passage and....SCRAPE!!!! My head jerks forward.
 "OUCH! Argh!!!!"
 The nurse tugged again. Each time I yelled, "ARGHHH!!!!"
 "Mr. Jemmott there seems to be a problem. Let me get a doctor."
 WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! So now I'm sitting in this barren room with fluorescent lighting. This thing lodged in my head.
 Two doctors come rushing into the room. The nurse right behind.
 "Ok. Let's have a look." He puts his hands on my head, tilts it back. Touches my nose and goes, "Hmm?"
 "I appears the end of the tube has somehow gotten lodge in your nose, up in your sinus. Pass the lubricant."
  "No! I hate bananas!"
  "We need to lube it real good and try and force it out. This hasn't happened before."
  "Ok...just do it.", I submitted.
  He squeezed the nozzle in and sprayed. "Ok, let's try this again. On the count of three, blow as hard as you can. I'll pull....one...two..three...BLOW!"
 And with that....RIP!!!!!!!!!!!! Pop!!!!!! Blood.
 It popped out. Tearing the inside of my nose. Blood dripping. The tube dangling covered in mucus.
 The end of the wires had looped in my stomach. When the nurse pulled it ...it curved back catching itself into a knot...tightening with each tug.
  The doctors, the nurse looked at each other.... looked back at me. "THAT has NEVER happened before."
 I held an ice pack on my face. Walked to the front desk and collected my $900 check.
 Three months later, I was back. This time a doctor, a different doctor, was administrating the tube down my throat. He said, "Ok...this may be a bit uncomfortable."
  I said, "Yeah, I know. I've done this before. The last time it got looped and got stuck in my head. The doctor had to rip it out."
  He stopped. Leaned back, looking at me, and said, "That was you?! I heard about you at the Christmas party."

The Day I Met Johnny Rotten.

 I was punk rock. I was a teenager. I was new wave. I was exposed to the Sex Pistols in junior high (shortly after the band broke up.) I listened to WLIR 92.7 FM...and it was a badge I wore...with pride. In 1990 I became an intern at WDRE (formally WLIR)..here on Long Island. I answered phones, pulled vinyl (that's right) & CDs for "On Airs"...but mostly for Malibu Sue. I drove the "WDRE Van" to various appearances...P.C Richards, Tower Records, Malibu, 007, Bright Fellows, Sprats, (and dozens of other night clubs/bars on Long Island, in the 5 boroughs, New Jersey, & Connecticut...etc...Handed out WDRE bumperstickers, t-shirts, Free CDs.....etc....
   There were perks. Sometimes I got cash from club owners, and free admission to every club we dealt with....but I always got concert tickets, t-shirts, and CDs. However, the coolest thing for me was meeting musicians from bands I grew up with, bands that changed me..or bands that  I connected with.
  I met Rollins, Sting, Peter Buck & Bill Berry, Ric Ocasek, Johnny Marr, Paul Simonon, both John's of  They Might Be Giants...etc..... I met tons one hit wonders. I met douche bags like Dave Stewart from Eurythmics..that refused to shake my hand.
   So in the Spring on '92 I got the call. I was needed at Tower Records down by NYU in NYC. There was an "in-store" with P.I.L............... "What?"
  So apparently, I had to head out to NYC, by such & such a time, and hand out bumperstickers..and such. I'm suppose to be wearing a WDRE t-shirt...and/or baseball cap. I'm suppose to be there by 2pm for a 4pm "instore".
  I rolled up at 3:30pm...there's a line around the block. I'm wearing a "Pop Will Eat Itself" tour jacket (compliments of Malibu Sue), a Fatima Mansions t-shirt, green cut off golf pants, and combat boots. I try walking in, in front of the crowd..but people exploded! "He's cutting!"
  "Relax." I say, and talk my way in. 2 minutes later I'm up front by a fold out dining table, with Sharpies on it. As I'm there getting the evil eye from other interns...I slide behind these tables and take a minute to get the lay of the land. I see a guy half in between the holding area and the mayhem. I KNOW HIM!
  I walk over to this guy. I know this guy. He was in an EMF VHS. That's right, I recognized a FUCKER from an EMF home video. I say, "Hey! You're in that EMF video."
 He turns and is flabbergasted. "Holy Shit!...You saw that?!"
   "Yes."
Next thing you know this guy offers me a beer...and...I'm in the holding area.

So we start talking, the weather, the tour, other bullshit. We're having a conversation...I'm glancing the room. I see John Lydon. Johnny Rotten. THERE HE IS! (remain cool)...I scan back to my new friend and ask more  bullshit questions for a minute....and I turn and walk over to grab a Corona on the table. ...John just happens to be grabbing a beer at the same.  We are now side by side.
  "Hello."....he says.
 "Hey.", and I turn back to my friend (EMF guy)
 I continue to talk to this guy and John walks over and gets in on our conversation. ...and he's cool. Just a guy bullshitting about NYC with the 2 of us. A minute later John is called to go. It's time to sign autographs at a table.
 He grabs a Corona from the ice tray and heads out from behind this divider. He signs..and insults and signs ,,,insults and signs, (After 20 minutes John takes a break for 5 minutes,  we drink Coronas together and he heads back out to sign more..everytime he takes a break I have a beer with him.40 minutes...70 minutes...120 minutes...etc....)
  And then his wife, wearing a full gown, like a wedding ....Nora Foster walks in. SCREAMING!!!
  "John! John! There was an earthquake! All your stuff fell off the wall!!!!...but nothing broke."
 "What?" John Lydon asked, standing inches from me.
"Our house keeper, she called. Everything is ok...our house ...it's OK."
   John looks at me. Looks the rest of the band....turns back to his wife and says.
"You? You come here to tell me about an earthquake in L.A....while I'm doing this?

"....but John, You didn't eat."

"What?"

"You didn't eat. There was Chinese food in the refrigerator. Why didn't you eat the food?"

At this point I realized I'm in the middle of a domestic spat between Johnny Rotten..thee Johnny Rotten and his wife.
 "I couldn't eat it 'cus there was no hot sauce."
"Yes! There was! I put it in a container and put it in the refrigerator."
"But I saw the empty hot sauce bottle in the trash!"
"I took the sauce and put in container to make it easy for you."
"How is that easier?! No HOT SAUCE! No CHINESE FOOD!!!! Leave it in it's place!!!!!"

With that he had to go back out and greet the next 100 fans, lined up.

After 3 hours...it was time to wrap this up. I was in the back drinking Coronas with Mike Joyce from The Smiths...and John Lydon's wife, and some EMF roadie. Johnny walked in. I had a P.I.L. 12" with me. We all drank for a few minutes I pulled John aside, and pulled out my "Bad Life" 12"....."You mind signing this?"

"Wow. I haven't seen this in awhile."...and he signed..."JOHNNY ROTTEN WAS NOT HERE".

I shook his hand, posed for a picture....and he turned back towards the table with the booze on it.

He grabbed a six pack of Corona & a bottle of white wine....turned to me and said..."You like wine?"

"Yes."

"Take this. I'll grab the beer."

And with 2 six packs in hand, Johnny Rotten, aka John Lydon slipped out into the night, into a car waiting.

And me...I hopped into the WDRE Van, for a free ride back in Long Island. I popped open that bottle of wine and shared it with Matty the Horse....and put that empty bottle on a shelf at home.