By Adam Lovinus
By Lilledeshan Bose
By Gabriel San Roman
By Rachel Mattice
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Daniel Kohn
By Nate Jackson
By Mike Seeley
Would the late, greatly sized Country Dick Montana support his Beat Farmers playing a 20-year reunion show without him?
"I absolutely think he would approve," says the San Diego-based cowpunk kings' guitarist/songwriter Buddy Blue, who is known otherwise to Weeklyreaders as music scribe Buddy Seigal. "He's probably smiling down on us in hell over the whole thing."
What some playfully refer to as "the Dickless Farmers" perform Saturday at the Coach House. Country Dick, who was born Dan McLain, is unfortunately otherwise detained. He'd just come out on the winning end of a long battle with thyroid cancer when he died of a heart attack in 1995 while onstage at the Longhorn Saloon in Whistler, British Columbia. He was 40.
Bigger than life—no, really, someone measured—Country Dick was the drummer in a hugely popular San Diego punk band called the Penetrators in the early 1980s when he formed a side project called Country Dick and the Snuggle Bunnies. That outfit allowed Country Dick, ever the ham, to come out from behind his drum kit and crack jokes, unleash a rumbling bass that seemed drawn from a deep well, and even cry in his longneck.
Jerry Raney, by then a 15-year veteran rocker in San Diego, caught the Snuggle Bunnies one night and approached his former bandmate. "I told Dick, 'Hey, what you're doing has a better chance of making it than anything anyone else is doing in town. Keep it up,'" Raney recalls. "He called a couple of weeks later and said, 'Hey, Raney, want to start this mobile musical pleasure unit?'"
Their first move was to check out a young guitarist named Buddy Blue who fronted a band called the Rockin' Roulettes.
"Buddy was playing this stuff that seemed like authentic, early American rockabilly," Raney said. "His songs really sounded right, like they were from somebody who came out of the '50s."
Country Dick told Blue before the show that the manager for a hot Orange County rockabilly band called the Rockin' Rebels would be checking out the Roulettes to potentially sign them as clients. "I told the other Roulettes this, we did our gig, and when it was over Dan comes up to me and says that he lied," Blue remembered. "He had Jerry Raney there checking us out, and he wanted me to join a band with them. I had to go back to the Roulettes and admit what happened. But I jumped at the chance. Those two were higher in the local-scene pecking order than I was."
After coming up empty trying out bass players, Blue suggested his Roulettes' mate Rolle Love, who'd only been playing the standup about a year but seemed to be a quick learner.
There was one drawback.
"Rolle was underage," Raney said. "He had to run out of a lot of back doors when the cops showed up."
The cops showed up often; Country Dick and Raney were already so widely known in San Diego that the first Beat Farmers gigs in 1983 were huge events. One early show, booked only after a few rehearsals, was at a tiny dive bar called the Spring Valley Inn. Blue, who remembers the audience spilling out into the street, held onto a recording that is being released for the first time on CD and will be sold for $15 at the Coach House.
While the Beat Farmers were formed with country music in mind—otherwise Country Dick would have looked silly in his battered cowboy hat and threadbare overcoat—Raney and Blue maintain that each member brought a little something to the musical table. Blue was steeped in rockabilly and blues. Raney was early rock & roll through the Clapton-is-God era. Country Dick's name explains his thang. And Love just tried to keep up.
"It all kind of collided," Blue said.
The Beat Farmers quickly found themselves opening for such like-minded, rootsy LA bands as the Blasters, Rank and File and Los Lobos. "None of us really sounded alike at all, but we shared the same sort of idealistic notion that we could help bring back rock & roll, which at that time was in the grips of goofy new wave, synth pop, shit like that," Blue said.
A wag dubbed the country punk sound "cowpunk." Raney recalls others who took it further. "Yeah, like we were at the crest of the moo wave," he says with a laugh. "Reckless western. Hayseed boogie-woogie. Stool-pigeon bop." But there are critics today who credit cowpunksters like the Beat Farmers with being the forebears of today's alt-country music.
The Beat Farmers, which released eight albums between 1985 and 1995, certainly evoked early rock & roll, but a raw punk energy simmered in this roots-rock stew. Many songs started with "Train Kept A-Rollin'"-style snare drums before Raney belted out vocals that brought to mind "Jailhouse Rock"-era Elvis. Blue, whose guitar often sounded as if it'd been plucked from Bill Haley's Comets, sang more bluesy numbers with surprising confidence given his relative youth—he was in his mid 20s. For comic relief, Country Dick would occasionally grab the mic. If the booming vocals of Rank and File's Tony Kinman led listeners to believe he was lugging bowling ball-sized testes, then Country Dick had to be packing medicine balls between his legs. Critics at the time generally split on whether his wild stage antics detracted from truly fine music or are what made the Beat Farmers stand out.