read this in my local entertainment paper... go here
http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/06.06.07/sonoma-county-bands-0723.htmlor here
Bummer Bitch
A 45 by a band called Freestone is easily the most amazing record in the pile, my research uncovering much more than I bargained for. There's no address on the record, but the name caught my eye, sharing as it does the name of the small West County town. Putting the needle on the record, I was treated to a moronic, obscene blast of immature fury called "Bummer Bitch": "Bummer bitch! You make me sick! / Bummer bitch! Suck my dick!"
Was this band really from Freestone? I initially found some punk message boards online that placed the band in San Francisco, but I kept digging and got in touch with Freestone's guitarist Andrew Berlin. Now living in L.A., Berlin confirmed that the band were in fact originally from and named after the town of Freestone.
"We started off playing on the Russian River for tips just so we could eat," he says, "because all we had was our music. Just livin' on the land, writing our songs." The band's guitarist, Malcolm Teacher, was a caretaker on an abandoned chicken ranch in Freestone, and Berlin, fresh from a stint as Little Richard's sideman, came out from Florida to live in Freestone and start the band.
Former KVRE DJ and co-owner Ed LaFrance remembers Freestone as a "hippie band--whirling dervish?type stuff," and indeed, the band's early sound was a product of Sonoma County in the 1970s. "Everybody was trying to do their own thing," Berlin affirms, "and come up with an idea that was different." Before too long, they started traveling down to San Francisco.
Taking cues from punk bands like the Nuns and the Avengers, Berlin recalls, "I realized that you can say whatever the fuck you want." He brought to the band a song that he says he wrote while fighting with his girlfriend. "I'll come back and argue with you later," he told her, "and I went and wrote the song in about five minutes."
"Bummer Bitch" was originally intended as a joke, a spoof of the new, angry sound that was starting to explode. But it had been a big hit during the band's shows in San Francisco, and when Freestone went to record a single, "Bummer Bitch" was an obvious choice. Berlin called his old boss Little Richard up for advice, who in turn put them in touch with industry mogul Bumps Blackwell. A few weeks later, 1,500 copies of the 45 came back from the factory.
All of a sudden, Freestone were huge in the punk scene, and the band played into it with elaborate stage shows aided by late San Francisco promoter Dirk Dirksen. Bill Singletary, Freestone's bassist, remembers having long hair and a beard that made him look like Jesus. While performing "Church" (the record's forgotten A-side), "I'd take my clothes off and put on this loincloth and get up on a cross behind a curtain," Singletary remembers, "and then at a certain part of the song, this big light would go off and the curtain would come down."
Even at the Mabuhay Gardens, where the band once shared an Easter Sunday bill with the Dead Kennedys, the mock-crucifixion angered some patrons. "It's a heavy symbol to mess with," Singletary admits. "Even in the early '70s, when you thought everybody had already gotten their minds blown."
Singletary thinks that "Bummer Bitch" was actually written about drummer and onetime vocalist Billy DeMoya's wife, who, he says, "started all kinds of problems. She was crazy." He also concedes that the band were experimenting "with lots of different things, not just music. So we were trippin' on lots of stuff. We had a great time." DeMoya himself, now living in Florida, paints a similar picture.
"Freestone," he declares, "was fueled and financed by cocaine and LSD. We went to [legendary FM station] KSAN with blow and got them to play it," he recalls. "Just about every major radio station played it when we arrived with the 'magic substance.'" In a close brush with a record deal, Seymour Stein from Sire Records came to the band's new house in San Francisco. "He said he liked it," shrugs DeMoya, "but that powder will have you saying anything."
Freestone eventually morphed into a power-pop band called the Fans and released a record of new material, but crowds knew what was up: they still chanted for "Bummer Bitch." Eventually the group disbanded. DeMoya now plays in a Florida cover band sponsored by J?germeister, Singletary plays with Bay Area bluesman Jackie Payne and Berlin is a well-known vintage guitar dealer and studio owner in Los Angeles.
Original copies of the Freestone 45 sell for a staggering $600?$700 on eBay these days, thanks in part to its inclusion on a popular punk compilation called Killed by Death. Berlin says he's pleased with the record's underground cult status. "But probably the coolest thing that happened," he relates, "was when I was at Hurrah's in New York, a dance club from the '80s that held thousands of people.
"David Bowie was DJ-ing, and at midnight, he spun 'Bummer Bitch,'" Berlin beams, "and the whole crowd of people in New York knew the lyrics. It blew my mind--a little funky band from Sonoma County."
For now, it's time to put these stories back in the garage. But every year, the pile of records keeps growing, made by the funky little bands from Sonoma County who once had a chance.
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