Here’s another archaeological dig into my musical influences, and like yesterday’s, it begins with joy and ends somewhere else.
As an undergrad on Long Island, I followed the band Broken Arrow *religiously*, spending many happy nights at The Right Track Inn in Freeport and wherever else they were playing.
These were some talented dudes: Hank Perez on lead vocals and guitar; his brother Joey on bass; and Mark Phillips and Stephen Murphy on dual lead guitars. There were a number of drummers over the years, but eventually the youngest Perez brother, Vinnie, took over on drums. They made wonderful original power pop! Great hooks, smart lyrics, strong, high-energy showmanship, and an accessibility that made the crowd love them even more. They let me sing with them a couple of times as their third sets were winding down, and it was a sensation of power and communion unlike anything I had ever known before and have ever known since.
One year they won the WLIR Battle of the Bands competition, which is saying something. WLIR was a monster radio station at the time. It set the trends in new music programming (there’s even a documentary about how important it was). And there were a LOT of good bands on Long Island at the time, too.
Then they made an EP, which was a big dang deal back then given the costs involved. It was very pointedly (perhaps presciently) titled "Moment of Truth." There is a photo of the cover below and a video of one of the songs from that EP.
And then they started playing gigs in New York City — in the city! — at places like the Ritz.
And then they got tapped by the De Beers Diamond Company, who made a video to their song “To Whom It May Concern,” which was shown in movie theaters across the country. It even got some airplay on the early days of MTV.
And all signs suggested they were about to get that big, big break, get discovered, get the fat money record deal.
But that never happened.
They tried various reconfigurations of the personnel to push things over the top. They got a sharp makeover to polish up their image. And as a result, if anything, they got *tighter*. But it just never happened, and this fact was not lost on me. I was looking hard at becoming a professional musician at this point, a path my father was happily encouraging. I loved these guys, emulated everything I could about them, and I remember thinking, “Jesus. If these guys can’t make it work, what chance have *I* got?” And so I turned away from music as a career. That’s where the dream died.
Some years later, when I learned that Hank had committed suicide, I understood completely.
