Lenny Kay shares a personal and musical journey rooted in the vibrant street and underground scenes of 1970s New York City. Growing up in Brooklyn, he discovered doo-wop and garage rock through the jukebox at the legendary Jones Bar, where songs like “Gloria” became central to his formative years. He reflects on the cultural resonance of doo-wop, noting its simple, catchy rhythms and deep emotional appeal. His musical path then expands to reggae, which he encountered through West Indian record stores in Brooklyn, and which laid the foundation for hip-hop and punk. He celebrates the Clash as a politically aware, musically diverse punk group that embraced black, white, and global sounds, contrasting them with the more narrow focus of other bands. Kay describes the late 1970s as a time of explosive creativity, marked by the rise of CBGB, the Grateful Dead’s improvisational brilliance, and the raw energy of punk rock like the Dead Boys. He credits the core of punk rock to a desire for self-understanding through music, a theme he continues to explore in his work. Over 15 years, he has compiled stories and songs that reflect not just the music, but the journey of personal and cultural evolution, culminating in heartfelt tributes to artists like Billy Idol and the enduring legacy of “White Wedding.” The narrative blends personal memory with cultural history, illustrating how music shaped identity and communities in a time of radical change.
- Before we start with the music, introduce yourself.
- Hi, I'm Lenny Kay.
I'm standing on Great Jones Street.
I believe Bob Dylan once stood on this street
for the freewheeling.
One of my favorite bars over there,
the Jones Bar, now sadly closed.
I spent many a night listening to their jukebox
and learning about the records we'll be listening to today.
- They had good tunes in there?
- They had the best jukebox ever and the best margaritas.
And by the time you got to your third margarita,
you were just like aiming at the button
because you knew, you knew that whatever button you hit
was gonna be a great song.
- It was all gonna be good.
- Yeah. - Here you go.
- Are we doing this on the street?
- Oh yeah.
- Oh gosh.
♪ It's not Marie ♪
I used to be able to hit those notes.
Sorry Earl Speedo, I can't sing it like you.
I find this song fascinating.
- Yeah?
- Because the national anthem of garage rock
is called Gloria.
♪ D-L-O-R-I-A ♪
♪ Gloria ♪
♪ D-L-O-R-I-A ♪
♪ Gloria ♪
- The national anthem of doo-wop is Gloria.
All the street corner groups would sing this beautiful song.
♪ Gloria ♪
♪ She's not in love ♪
- And of course, I happened to borrow Gloria
with Patti Smith.
♪ D-L-O-R-I-A ♪
♪ I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-D-L-O-R-I-A ♪
- What do you think it is?
Is this a fun thing to sing?
- It's got three beautiful syllables.
I guess it's got religious connotations as well.
It's just a perfect song.
- We'll stay in the same realm.
♪ Doo-ba-doo-ba ♪
♪ Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba ♪
- The five discs, yeah.
Never let you go.
- They're borrowing from maybe like a jazz tradition.
- It's like another language.
- Probably the way they came up with that originally
was one guy was like, "What if we did ba-ba-ba-do-ba-da-ba?"
And then the other guy joins in.
- It's like scat singing.
It's just a great music.
And unfortunately it seems to have kind of vanished.
- Yeah.
- As a kid growing up in Brooklyn,
that was the music that I listened to all the time.
I wanted to be a second tenor in a doo-wop group.
Then I saw The Beatles on Ed Sullivan
and my role model for what I wanted to be as a musician
changed immediately.
♪ Those are eyes that I'll be seeing ♪
♪ Tomorrow I'll miss you ♪
♪ Remember, I'll always be you ♪
- It's interesting that you mention the shift to The Beatles,
but it's not that different.
- When George and John and Paul put their voices together,
they were like amazing.
♪ That boy ♪
♪ Took my love away ♪
- Okay, what's next?
- Yeah!
I love reggae.
Johnny, you're too bad.
- Yes. - I learned about you.
I learned about reggae music from the heart of They Come.
- Yeah.
- In the '70s, what I would do,
I would travel out to the West Indian sections of Brooklyn
and I'd go into a random record store,
me, little white guy,
and I'd ask them to play me all the singles on the wall.
And like any music,
a lot of them are just kind of sound-alikes.
They just sound like the same thing,
but I wanted to hear the great songs,
just great singers, incredible arrangements,
not given enough credit to the--
to the instrumentalists who are making these records.
And for, of course, the fact that Jamaican Toasters,
they're DJs, playing those records.
♪ Me on my way, me a go on the grill ♪
♪ People come right to you, we talk it through ♪
♪ They just say, "You know, man, your feet are so skinny" ♪
♪ Ride a one-wheel bicycle, don't mind me, baby ♪
Provided the foundation
for what would become hip-hop in America.
The Clash, of course.
- Uh-huh. - The Clash, of course.
The most righteous, the most political,
the most broad-based group out of the UK punk explosion.
Of course they loved reggae.
- Of course. - That's a very good segue.
- Yep. - And they weren't too cool.
- Yeah. - You know, they weren't like
the Sex Pistols, "Oh, man," you know.
They loved old music, they loved new music,
they loved black music, they loved white music,
they loved green music.
They were all over the place.
Great, great guys.
I miss Joe Strummer, I got to see him, uh,
when he was over in Brooklyn
at his performances with the Mescaleros.
♪ And all of the young ♪
♪ Do that one, don't wait ♪
♪ Short it out, please, don't shoot ♪
And I went backstage and, you know,
we gave each other a hug because, you know,
we're rock vets, man, we've been through it.
- Comrades. - And we're still playing.
- Yeah. - And that's the important thing.
Paul Simonin, super, super rootsy guy.
Mick Jones, what a broad musical imagination.
Just a bandful.
He's a band for the ages, actually.
A lot of bands, they stay in their, in their lane.
- Yeah. - You know, we're punk,
so we can't do anything because it's not punk.
The Clash always sound like The Clash,
but to be honest, they don't sound alike
from record to record.
With the Patti Smith group, we wanted it all.
We wanted to be able to have a three-minute hit single
that you could dance to.
Not that we ever really had one.
But we always were trying.
And then we wanted to have a field of noise,
of inspiration, of improvisation.
When you have that kind of breadth of musical ambition,
you can't be pigeonholed.
Do you feel like the '70s in New York City,
especially the late '70s,
was truly a time of sort of explosive experimentation?
Or is that just what they say in the stories?
I wrote a book.
It's called "Lightning Striking: Ten Transformative Moments,"
where all of a sudden, you see a locus of energy
develop in a place that really hadn't figured it out yet.
I love the San Francisco scene.
When I was a teenager, I just thought
that was like the greatest assemblage of bands.
And I remember that moment standing outside CBGB
one day thinking, wait a second.
We've got six or seven really important bands.
And I'm seeing this thing kind of catch fire
in different places.
What's crazy to me is at the same time,
hip hop, you mentioned it before, that's exploding.
A great free jazz scene here.
You know, Sun Ra playing over at Slugs.
It's a real cultural cauldron.
Over at St. Mark's Church, the poets,
of which I got to play with the greatest of them all.
It's amazing how compressed and creative this scene is.
But the real reason is because it was off the radar.
And when you have an open field like that,
you can become anything who you hope to be.
♪ Be that girl ♪
I'm going back to the summer of love.
Ah, The Grateful Dead.
What a band.
And I have to say, now they're kind of like a cliche.
Yeah.
But what they did was so amazing.
What I liked is their sense of expansive improvisation.
That they would continue on and on
until they reached a point that was beyond rhythm
and beyond melody.
♪ Sarkozy ♪
♪ Ain't no loser ♪
Classic punk rock.
The Dead Boys, they were like the second generation punk
because they heard what was happening at CBGB
and they came from the Lando Cleve to make their mark here.
And they did.
And they did.
Steve Bader's was hilarious.
He once wrapped his microphone cord around his neck
so hard that he passed out on stage.
That's true punk rock, if you ask me.
It really marked the moment when punk became not just
an attitude or a sensibility, but punk with a capital P.
When did you think about the idea of punk?
I used the word punk rock in my liner notes for Nuggets in 1972,
but I didn't invent it.
It was kind of bandied about by rock writers who wanted a return
to the elemental desire of why you make music.
Greg Shaw out in California, Lester Bangs up at Cream.
So by the time it arrived, it--
a description for music, it was already over.
But the core ideas--
It's desire and yearning and wanting to understand yourself
through the power of music.
That's the journey.
And to be honest, it's all about the journey.
You know, one of the things I like about what I'm doing now
is that I'm still on a journey.
How long have you been working on this project?
Maybe 15 years.
Some of the songs on the album are a little bit younger
version of me.
I'm not out at 3:30.
I'm not out at 3:30 in the morning dancing to "White Wedding."
Well, occasionally.
It's a nice day for a white wedding.
Speaking of "White Wedding."
Right on cue.
I knew Billy Idol a long time.
He lived in New York at the turn of the '80s.
He worked in a practice room next to mine up at the music
building on 8th Avenue.
I think I sold him some mushrooms at one point.
But anyway, I saw him a few years ago.
And I went up to him and said, you know, Billy,
I got to congratulate you.
You have my favorite song.
You have my favorite song of the 1980s.
"White Wedding" is a classic.
Thank you for taking the time.
It's always a pleasure to be here with "Trackstar."
You know, thank you for not really stumping me and saying,
that Frank Sinatra song, I don't know that one.
I'd rather get the stories from you.
Oh, that's awesome.
"Cadillacs."
Yeah.
What a song.
We can do it on the street corner.
Gloria, it's not Marie.
Oh, I hit it.
I hit the note.
- Thank you, brother.
- Oh, thank you.
Podcast Summary
Key Points:
Lenny Kay reflects on his childhood in Brooklyn, where he discovered doo-wop and garage rock through the jukebox at the now-closed Jones Bar, a place that shaped his early musical identity.
He highlights "Gloria" as a foundational song of doo-wop and garage rock, praising its melodic simplicity and cultural significance, while noting its connection to both musical tradition and personal memory.
Kay traces the evolution of his musical influences from doo-wop and street-corner music to reggae, punk, and the dynamic New York scene of the 1970s, emphasizing the experimental spirit and cross-cultural exchange that defined the era.
Summary:
Lenny Kay shares a personal and musical journey rooted in the vibrant street and underground scenes of 1970s New York City. Growing up in Brooklyn, he discovered doo-wop and garage rock through the jukebox at the legendary Jones Bar, where songs like “Gloria” became central to his formative years. He reflects on the cultural resonance of doo-wop, noting its simple, catchy rhythms and deep emotional appeal.
His musical path then expands to reggae, which he encountered through West Indian record stores in Brooklyn, and which laid the foundation for hip-hop and punk. He celebrates the Clash as a politically aware, musically diverse punk group that embraced black, white, and global sounds, contrasting them with the more narrow focus of other bands. Kay describes the late 1970s as a time of explosive creativity, marked by the rise of CBGB, the Grateful Dead’s improvisational brilliance, and the raw energy of punk rock like the Dead Boys.
He credits the core of punk rock to a desire for self-understanding through music, a theme he continues to explore in his work. ” The narrative blends personal memory with cultural history, illustrating how music shaped identity and communities in a time of radical change.
FAQs
Lenny Kay is the host of the project, sharing personal stories and connections to music history. He grew up in Brooklyn and has deep ties to the musical scenes of the 1960s and 1970s, particularly in New York City.
Gloria is considered the national anthem of doo-wop, often sung by street corner groups. It became a foundational song in garage rock, known for its catchy, repetitive melody and emotional resonance.
He explored reggae in the 1970s by visiting West Indian record stores in Brooklyn and listening to vinyl singles, focusing on strong vocal performances and skilled arrangements that were often overlooked.
Reggae, especially as played by Jamaican DJs like the Jamaican Toasters, provided the foundation for hip-hop culture in America, influencing its rhythms, beats, and lyrical content.
The Clash admired reggae and embraced its roots, blending it with punk energy. They were politically aware, musically open, and respected diverse musical traditions, including black and white music.
He uses this to describe a true punk movement that transcends style or attitude—it’s raw, rebellious, and rooted in personal expression and authenticity, as seen in acts like The Dead Boys.
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