FEATURE “THIS IS WHERE IT ALL HAPPENS”
An excerpt from Peter & the Wolves on the brief, brilliant life of Peter Laughner By Adele Bertei IN 1974, PETER LAUGHNER, the legendary musician from seminal local acts Rocket From the Tombs and Pere Ubu, wrote in the Plain Dealer that, “I want to do for Cleveland what Brian Wilson did for California and Lou Reed did for New York.” Chasing and emulating those stars, Lester Bangs wrote three years later in an obituary for Laughner, who passed away at the young age of 24, was in some small way part of his demise: “Peter Laughner had his private pains and compulsions, but at least in part he died because he wanted to be Lou Reed. The ‘new wave’ can boast its first casualty.” Laughner’s brief but influential career has experienced a revival in recent years, including through a five-LP box set from Smog Veil Records released in 2019 that brought previously unpublished recordings to light. Smog Veil has also recently republished a memoir from Adele Bertei, a musician, writer, actor and artist who was friends, roommates and bandmates with Laughner. She first self-published the book in a limited run in 2013. In a New York Times article on the “excavation of a rock ‘n’ roll tragedy,” Bertei said, “If he had been able to sober up and shake off the whole Cleveland attitude and stigma that hung around him and just really concentrated on his music and gotten the hell out of there, I think he really would have been one of our major talents in America.”
In Peter and the Wolves, named after the band Laughner and Bertei were in together, she “recounts her friendship with the late great Peter Laughner, Cleveland’s answer to all things underground and punk in the 1970s. The book is Bertei’s intimate recounting of the musical education she received from Laughner; of their complex artistic kinship, and the vivid trajectory of the ‘live fast die young’ ethos that extinguished the light of a radiant rock and roll heart.”
Bertei decamped to New York shortly after Laughner’s death. There, she began what’s become a lengthy and notable career, beginning with the Contortions and a prominent role in the early No Wave art and music scene of late 1970s NYC. She was also a member of The Bloods, considered to be the first all-out, allfemale rock band, before European DJ adventures and a return to the States and a record deal with Geffen as a solo artist. She’s sung backup vocals
for the Culture Club, written songs for the Pointer Sisters, made films and, in recent years, has published columns and her memoir. In this excerpt, republished with permission, Bertei talks about her early friendship with Laughner, shares her memories of Laughner’s private life compared to his public persona in the local scene, and gives insight into a singular talent lost far too soon. Peter and the Wolves is available now at smogveil.com.
I’D HEARD ABOUT A PLACE IN Cleveland Heights where local musicians held blues jams on Friday nights. Cleveland spawned many great musicians, yet few would propel themselves out of the local scene. Blues bands and cover bands were the norm. Legendary Robert Jr. Lockwood (rumored to have been the stepson of Robert Johnson) played often. The Mr. Stress Blues Band didn’t really impress me, but the Tiny Alice Jug Band sure caught my attention. Their fiddle player could burn a circle around Paganini, and foxy little singer
Peggy Cella stood out on lead vocals. 15-60-75, also called the Numbers Band, featured stunning musicians backing charismatic singer Robert Kidney. From the Akron and Kent area, the band included Chrissie Hynde’s brother Terry, a beast on the saxophone. While bussing tables at Isabella’s restaurant in University Circle, one of the waiters told me about a local blues jam; if the players approved the look of you and you knew a song in their repertoire, they’d let you get up and sing. I picked something I imagined they might know, “Piece
of My Heart” by Janis Joplin, and rehearsed until I felt secure enough to try my luck. I made my request to the bass player. When the band kicked into a version close to Big Brother and the Holding Company’s, I grabbed the mike and started to wail. It was an out of body experience, and the applause of the small crowd signaled I’d actually pulled it off. I collapsed into a chair, shaking, ready to drink my nerves away when a guy in a black leather jacket approached our table. He had pale skin, dark wavy hair, eyes masked by Wayfarer
sunglasses. A lean figure in tight indigo Levi’s, his new white t-shirt peeked from beneath the open leather. I noticed a little space between his front teeth as he smiled, and he removed his shades, exposing mischievous eyes searching mine as he said, “You’re really good. ” I blushed and thanked him. He told me he played guitar, humbly, assuming I didn’t know who he was. “Do you wanna hang out and uh, maybe sing with me sometime? Maybe with the new band I’m putting together?” I’d hardly forgotten Peter
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Adele Bertei in 1977, as captured by Nan Goldin
| clevescene.com | February 10-23, 2021
