History

   I remember going with my friend Jay to see them the first time, a week after my 18th birthday, at a club called the Orange up at Syracuse University. I stood there in my heavy winter coat, transfixed by this band slamming through songs by the Searchers, the Yardbirds, the Sex Pistols and the Jam. I remember being convinced that this must be what it felt like to see the Beatles at the Cavern. An overblown comparison, you say? You weren’t there.

   I was blown away by the Flashcubes that first time, and that initial buzz continued every time I saw them. I joined the Flashcubes International Fan Club, and got a nifty black Flashcubes button (which Arty covets to this day). I haunted Gerber Music, waiting for “Christi Girl” to finally be released. I got to know other Flashcubes fans a bit, and felt like part of a vital pop community, doing the Jumping Jack with Penny Poser, Danny Ramone, Dian Zain, Dave Glavin (who even asked me to join the band he was putting together), Matt MacHaffie, K-Martta Rose, Rush Tattered, Meegan Voss, Kathy Kensington and ’Cubes manager Mr. Mick.

   I remember seeing the Flashcubes at a club called Gildersleeves on Bowery in NYC. I was visiting my girlfriend on Staten Island, and I dragged her out to see this great Syracuse band I’d been raving about. I bought a copy of “Wait Till Next Week” from Gary at the club, and I watched as supposedly jaded New Yorkers shouted up to the ’Cubes onstage, “hey, you guys are good!” We also got lost in the subway until 4am, trying to make it back to Staten Island. (Luckily, the girlfriend didn’t hold a grudge, and she eventually became a Flashcubes fan and my wife. Not necessarily in that order.)

   And I remember bringing a friend, Tom, to see the Flashcubes, the Runaways and the Ramones for a mere four bucks at the Brookside in ’78. Tom hated the Ramones, but loved the Runaways and the Flashcubes. He even bought Arty a beer. I remember Tom liked the alienation songs the best, Arty’s “I Don’t Wanna Be A Human Being” and Paul’s “Damaged Beyond Repair”, in particular.

   In the wee hours of the morning on July 1st, 1979, Tom killed himself. I was devastated, and I cried all day. That night, Jay and I went to see the Flashcubes play at Dave Glavin’s graduation party. And they were great. They didn’t make the pain go away, but they helped lessen it. Maybe they even saved my life. The party rocked until the police shut it down. Dave and me yelling, “hey, you’re not the police!” at the cops probably didn’t help matters in that regard. (In a sad coda, Dave Glavin also passed away a few years later. To me, no one person embodied the exuberance of the Syracuse new wave scene better than Dave. In a world of little permanence, the best we can hope for is a safe haven along the way. Godspeed, Dave; the Flashcubes experience wouldn’t have been as much fun without you.)

   The Flashcubes always offered an opportunity for redemption, a chance to jump up and down on top of your problems with manic glee. If you were there to see them play at the Firebarn, the Jab, the Brookside, the Slide, the Orange, the Grape ‘n’ Grog, the Poor House North or any other now-defunct nightspot, then you know. You know.

   But the appeal of the Flashcubes isn’t merely nostalgic. In 1992, Arty, Gary and Paul did an acoustic set of Flashcubes songs for a songwriters’ showcase at Syracuse’s Club Zodiac. At the end of the too-short set, a couple who’d clearly never even heard of these guys before jumped to their feet, applauding, demanding to know who this great act was. “We’re the Flashcubes!” Paul replied. “Well, we were the Flashcubes”, Gary corrected.

   What’s cool once is cool forever. If you have a history with something, then time adds extra resonance. But if you weren’t there, these recordings can at least offer you a clue to what it was like. Even if this is your first exposure to the Flashcubes, perhaps you can still enjoy them just as I did years ago that first time at the Orange. And I really hope you get to see them someday.

   I have a tape of a Flashcubes live show from 1978. On it, an announcer promises that, “someday, very soon from now, you people are going to be able to say, ‘I saw this band before they were famous.’” You know, it’s still not too late to get in on the ground floor.

   If you have a heart, and if you have a soul, then there are certain events you will go through in this life that will stay with you forever. You never forget your first love. You never forget your first kiss. You never forget your first broken heart. You never forget feeling that you just can’t go on. You never forget deciding that you’re going to go on anyway. You never forget your first best friend. And you never forget your first favorite band. I was there, and I remember. When I was 18, the Flashcubes were my favorite band. All these years later, they still are.

by Carl Cafarelli
Summer, 1997