Cult classic: Oyster men rock on
01.05.2006, 19:17
It started out as a demo recorded on a four-track tape machine by guitarist Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser in the spare bedroom of his house in Melville. But it became one of the most memorable songs of the mid-1970s, an enduring staple of classic-rock radio and a pop-cultural touchstone that has served as both inspiration and punch line over the decades.
Vilnius Hotels
"It's a love story that transcends the death of one of the partners. There is an afterlife, and he comes back and gets his mate," Roeser explains. "I wasn't thinking it would be a hit."
The song is "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," from Blue Öyster Cult's breakthrough album, "Agents of Fortune," which this month celebrates its 30th anniversary. The dark tale of doomed love - punctuated by Roeser's evocative guitar solos and Albert Bouchard's cowbell-driven drum track - became an unlikely hit single, rocketing the band out of the underground and into sold-out coliseums. Thanks to "The Reaper," as fans call it, Blue Öyster Cult became one of the premier acts of its day, and its mystical brand of heavy metal and pioneering use of laser-light shows helped define the arena-rock era.
Years later, the "The Reaper" continues to capture the imagination of new generations. Stephen King quoted it in the preface to his apocalyptic novel "The Stand," and it played during the opening scenes of the 1994 television adaptation. "It's the all-time great teenage death song," King explains. "It seemed perfect for me to use for a book about everybody dying at once."
Cult status from "SNL"
In 2000, the track inspired a famous "Saturday Night Live" skit starring Will Ferrell as a cowbell-crazed percussionist and Christopher Walken as the record producer who eggs him on. Walken's repeated call for "More cowbell!" became such a popular catchphrase that it spawned a line of T-shirts.
"None of us took offense at being satirized," says keyboardist Allen Lanier. "It was actually kind of a tribute. And it was damn funny."
Remarkably, after a career spanning nearly 40 years, Blue Öyster Cult still is a going concern, playing anywhere from 60 to 80 shows a year. The original rhythm section is gone, replaced by bassist Richie Castellano and drummer Jules Radino, but Roeser, Lanier and singer Eric Bloom remain. The band plays June 2 at North Fork Theatre at Westbury.
Long before "The Reaper," the band started out as a loose collection of Long Island musicians and Stony Brook University students who gathered to jam at a house on Terrace Drive in Eatons Neck. Around 1967, someone brought Sandy Pearlman, a writer for Crawdaddy!, the seminal rock magazine. Pearlman, who grew up in Smithtown, was itching to use his record-label connections to break into the music business, and in this group of part-time rockers he saw his chance.
"I created the band," says Pearlman, who now lectures on music at Montreal's McGill University and other schools. "I said to them, 'You guys are a band. And you're going to be called Soft White Underbelly.'"
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Pearlman assumed the roles of manager, producer and lyricist. He also gave Roeser his now-famous stage name. "In retrospect, I thank him," Roeser says. "I don't think I would have been motivated to spend the rest of my life as Buck Dharma without him."
New York roots
Members came and went over the next few years, but eventually the lineup coalesced around Roeser (born in Flushing), keyboardist Lanier (who grew up in Connecticut), drummer Albert Bouchard and his bassist brother Joe (both of Watertown, N.Y.), and singer Eric Bloom, a Jamaica Estates native who met the band while working at a Sam Ash music store in Hempstead.
The band changed names several times until Pearlman finally came up with Blue Öyster Cult. "I said, 'What the -- is that?'" Bloom recalls. "There was already Blues Magoos, Blues Image. There were so many bands with 'blue' in it."
Nevertheless, the name stuck and Blue Öyster Cult landed a deal at Columbia Records. Its first three albums - 1972's self-titled debut; "Tyranny and Mutation" in 1973; and "Secret Treaties" in 1974 - established the band as a hard-driving rock outfit distinguished by Pearlman's mythological and philosophical lyrics.
"They weren't just singing about typical stupid stuff," says David Konow, author of "Bang Your Head: The Rise and Fall of Heavy Metal." At the same time, he admits, "I don't think the audiences ever really understood. I think they were just a good band to get stoned to."
By 1975, Blue Öyster Cult had been touring tirelessly, and the rigorous schedule made it hard to write new songs, Bloom says. "We had to write them in our hotel rooms. Albert would have drumsticks and a book, or something to smack. We'd bring guitars and maybe one amp, and we wrote."
That year's live album, "On Your Feet or on Your Knees," allowed the band some much-needed time to work on new material. What's more, a new form of technology was emerging that would have profound effects on the music industry.
"For the first time, multitrack tape recorders were affordable to nonprofessionals," Roeser says. "Once we got those things, which we did around '74 or '75, that fundamentally changed the way the band wrote and arranged music. The writer had the ability to write and arrange music before bringing it into the band."
Meantime, "Donald was the only one in the band saying we needed a hit," recalls Albert Bouchard, who has since left the band and now plays with Brain Surgeons NYC. "He'd say, 'We just need one! Look at Deep Purple.'"