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REVIEWS Let me state right from the start that UNSUNG 1979-2002, a collection of forty-one magnificent songs by singer/songwriter JOHN MOLLICA, is one of the finest gatherings of rock and roll music I have ever heard. This incredible four CD retrospective by an unknown performer is truly an outstanding achievment, but at the same time it saddens me that the world does not know this wonderfully talented artist. John Mollica, a.k.a. Johnny Caruso, is a mysterious, rock and roll ghost who has been haunting me ever since I first heard him perform over twenty years ago with his band THE JOHNNY CARUSO STORY. Back in the late-seventies and early-eighties, I was writing for the now defunct music rag ROCK, LOOK AND LISTEN. I was a permanent fixture on the New York City rock-club scene, catching all the new punk/new wave rock and roll bands on the circuit. After reading a glowing review in a rival mag of one of John's concerts at THE NORTHSTAGE in Long Island, I had to see for myself. I went to see him perform at THE RITZ and I wasn't let down. What a show! Physically, he was a cross between Al Capone and Al Pacino. Musically, he combined the urgency of Bruce Springsteen with the intelligence of Paul Simon, and the streetwise attention to detail of Billy Joel with the sensitivity of James Taylor. Personally, his songs touched me the same way the above mentioned artists did--poignant and filled with longing. The review I had read also mentioned that John was being managed and produced by Springsteen's former co-producer Jim Cretecos ("GREETINGS FROM ASBURY PARK" and "THE WILD, THE INNOCENT, AND THE E STREET SHUFFLE"), so I felt that I was watching a future rock and roll great right from the inception. After his show, I went backstage and introduced myself to John and Jim and told them that I wanted to write a review of the wonderful performance I had just seen. They were pleased, saying that they could use all the positive press that they could get. Cretecos told me that he had gotten John a live audition with legendary Columbia Records luminary JOHN HAMMOND whose initial response upon hearing him was "Wait until Bruce hears him... he'll love him." Before leaving, he gave me a copy of John's demo album titled "The Champion of Hudson Town" (which I still play to this day). I went home that night and I wrote an article about John claiming that he was the heir apparent to Bruce. I was sure that the songs on the demo were destined to be rock classics. He sang from the point of view of being Italian in urban America, specifically Northern New Jersey long before THE SOPRANOS made it a popular setting. His songs told desperate street tales of loneliness and obssessive love, of crime and disenfranchisement, of the frustrating pursuit of the corrupting American Dream, and a search for identity in a harsh world that is quick to beat you down. Being Italian and having grown up in Newark, I thoroughly understood him and the people he was singing about. On sad Sunday afternoon's My old man with his rosary My brother snoring in his room Lately, I been thinking about Where I fit... In this family portrait" But don't get me wrong, his songs don't just speak to an Italian audience plagued with Catholic guilt. They speak to anyone who at one time or another have examined themselves in relationship to their enviornment and have walked away with discouraging results. Decided I'd take the backstreets home Past the immigrant tenements The smell of whiskey and cheap cologne And as they watched from their window panes Cardboard faces pulled down their shades I thought of friends that I used to know And as I marched in my own parade I was struck down by hit and run years..." From that point on, I became a regular at all his shows: Traxs, Great Glidersleeves, My Father's Place, The Left Bank, The Big Man's West, you name it. Wherever he played, I was there. We all unanimously felt it wouldn't be long until the music world would soon embrace this fine, new talent. Everything seemed in place. Then, he was gone. Just like that, he disappeared... never to be heard from again. For years, his name would be brought up in conversations with those old enough to remember the glorious days of Manhattan's rock club scene. No one seemed to know what had become of him. Rumors emerged. Some said he died of a heroin overdose, some said he had a nervous breakdown and was institutionalized, some said he was serving time in prison for manslaughter. One thing was for certain, no one knew for sure what had become of this promising artist. One Friday night in the fall of 1998, my husband and I were having dinner in The Clam Broth House, a famed Hoboken, N.J. eatery located on a strip of popular local night spots, when we overheard a couple sitting at a table next to us talking about a guitar player/singer who was performing up the block in a place called The Cadillac Bar. I couldn't believe it when they said his name. After dinner, I had to see if this was the same singer who twenty-something years earlier had capivated me with his original music. When we walked in the bar, I was brought back in time. There was John, now in his forties, armed with just an acoustic guitar, passionately performing for a bar crowd half his age and, sadly, half paying attention to him. He looked older, but still hip enough to front a rock and roll band. We sat down at a table near the front of the small platform stage and listened to him finish a cover version of The Moody Blues' "In Your Wildest Dreams." A scattering of applause followed, then he went into a heartfelt rendition of Tom Petty's "The Waiting." I wanted to hear him play his original songs. I thought I'd have some fun with him and shock him by requesting one of his own titles from the old days. I asked him if he knew a song called "The Champion of Hudson Town." He smiled cynically at me and said, "How do you know that song?" I smiled back and said, "I heard Johnny Caruso sing it at The Ritz twenty years ago. I still play the demo tape his manager gave me." He was touched as his smile widened. He played the song for me. Rack 'im up real tight My best friend bet his life on me I can't lose tonight I threw my sneakers On the telephone wire I hear the speakers Blasting out of Charlie's car I'm sorry, Momma But I can't let Charlie down 'Cause I'm the Champion of Hudson Town" When he finished his set, he sat down and had a drink with us. I was curious to know what he had been doing all these years. I was surprised to learn that he was a high school English teacher and had been for the past twenty years. I asked him if his students were aware that they were being taught by someone who could have been the next Bruce Springsteen. He laughed half-sarcastically and said, "Yeah, right." I told him I meant it. As far as I was concerned, he should have been. I pressed further and asked him why his career hadn't taken off. He said that chasing his rock and roll dream nearly drove him insane. He became frustrated and discouraged with the music business after making a lot of bad decisions which eventually led to him walking away from it all before it really even got started. "Anyway," he said, "life didn't turn out the way I planned." I told him I recognized that line from the Robert Redford film THE NATURAL, the story of Roy Hobb, a once promising ballplayer who many years after disappearing into obscurity, magically reamerges to mythically claim the greatness he was destined to have. I said maybe he could be like a musical Roy Hobb. He said he wasn't quite that optimistic, but he was in the process of recording many of his songs to try and market on the internet. He went out to his car and came back with a CD of twenty songs he had thus far recorded. He said he was about a year away from finishing the other twenty some odd songs to complete the boxed set and that he would send us a copy when he was through. We offered him another drink, but he said someone was waiting for him and he had to go. He packed up his equipment and left. We played his CD in the car on our way home and were taken by the sheer emotional power and beauty of the songs. What a sin that this music was never released by a major record company. Granted, these recordings were of demo quality compared to today's recording standards, but I could just imagine what this material would sound like in the hands of a capable producer in a state of the art recording studio. We went back to The Cadillac Bar the following week to see him and I asked him if he would let me write the liner notes you are now reading for his collection of songs. Obviously, he agreed. I'm glad he did. I enjoyed writing about him. I'm happy he's still out there giving voice to his and my generation's hopes and fears. Except for me no one's around The cold streets are empty But through the stillness churchbells sound It's a sad song What went wrong? These demons haunt me day and night I wipe the tears from my dark eyes As I sing this bad night lullabye..." John Mollica is truly an unsung hero of rock and roll. But, who knows, life is strange. Maybe some music executive with ears and foresight will hear this collection of songs and realize that there's still a market for great songs even if they're performed by a forty-something year old newcomer who's been around for a very long time. That in itself, I think, is a great selling point. Enjoy, as I do. Lisa Russo, 2002 A quick aside.... This collection includes the heartwrenching song 911, which John wrote about the World Trade Center attack. |