Buried Treasure: The Sleepers
[Mojo, 1999]
The Sleepers, Painless Nights (Adolescent Records ARTT 007)
Tracks: When Can I Fly? / Walk Away / The Mind / Intro / Forever / Zenith / Theory / B-Side / Los Gatos
Not currently available (Tim Kerr Records 1996 CD now deleted)
Produced: Eric Paul Fournier and Michael Belfer for Pink Man Productions
Singles extracted: none.
Recorded: 1980
Released: 1981
Personnel: Ricky Williams (vocals), Michael Belfer (guitars), Mike White (guitars), Ron MacLeod (bass) and Brian MacLeod (drums). ‘Walk Away’ features Alex Gibson and Tom Recchion of the B-People.
Long dismissed as a joke copy, the West Coast punk scene produced noises, ideas, attitudes and images that matched almost anything that Britain or New York could offer. There were local differences: LA punk was goofier, poppier, while San Francisco held to its beat/ psych roots with a strong aesthetics and politics, but the impulse was the same: ‘it was a community of fringe people finding each other,’ says Sleepers’ guitarist Michael Belfer; ‘And we were right there in the middle. It was a very highly concentrated burst of creativity. ’
The Sleepers came together in early 1978 out of Palo Alto: ‘it’s a typical suburb about 35 minutes out of the city,’ says Belfer; ‘It’s also a college town – Stanford University. In the late 70’s there was a big VA hospital where war casualties were treated, so there were a lot of crazy people wandering downtown. Ricky was one of the interesting characters who you’d see there: I’d earmarked him because he was so awesome looking. I was trying to form a band with my friend Tim Mooney and we knew we had to get him as the singer’.
Ricky was the first drummer of Crime. When I approached him, he blew me off. He didn’t trust me. When we finally got him in to jam, we realised he had the most amazing natural voice. A total crooner, with fantastic improvisational abilities. But it was lopsided: he had no discipline to write out any lyrics; he never wanted to do the same thing twice. So we always had a cassette rolling when we rehearsed: we’d go back, listen, and put a song together based on our jams. The idea was planned spontaneity. The whole idea of punk was to tap into the unconscious.
The Sleepers’ first EP, released in the latter half of 1978, announced a new generation’s dive into inner space, as Ricky Williams crooned a series of epithets and prophecies over a fluid, spacey backing that, in songs like ‘Seventh World’, compressed and broke free from the Punk template. ‘Psychedelia is endemic to the area,’ says Belfer. ‘It’s bound to affect you if you grow up here: I loved Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac – especially ‘The Green Manalishi’, the James Gang ‘Rides Again’ and Fripp/Eno’s ‘No Pussyfooting’. Then we used to take a lot of speed and acid; the speed we got here was amazing.’
Despite the power of songs like ‘No Time’ and ‘Flying’, the Sleepers went nowhere. They had a convincing, poete maudit front man, a great guitarist, but, as Belfer now says: ‘We were so naive. It didn’t occur to us that any major label record company would be interested. We really sufferred from not having good access to recording: only a fraction of our material ever got to tape. And then there was Ricky. The whole thing about him was that he was a little too authentic: it was not a good idea to bring him home. Head for the bathroom, clean out the medicine cabinet: that was the protocol.’
‘Ricky was on social security for the disabled. His parents were not responsible and he lived with his grandparents – who were also his guardians – in a trailer park right by the freeway in Mountain View. His dad was gay: this had a huge impact because Ricky was bisexual. He had a very hard life and was aware of his disability. He loved animals and was obsessed with axolotls; he named the band Flipper from a shark-ravaged dolphin we found on the beach when we were tripping. Ricky was really wild: completely out of his mind. He never got his feet back on the ground. ’
In 1978 and 1979, Belfer played with Tuxedomoon, but was encouraged to reform the Sleepers for another 45 (‘Theory’ / ‘Mirror’, 1980) and a first album. ‘I found this great rhythm section – the MacLeod Brothers – and we made an album within two weeks of coming together. Ricky had started Flipper and they kicked him out. He got depressed and would call me up. The album was really quick to record and quick to write. Ricky had endless ideas: we continued writing after the record so we had a whole new set written for the tour.’
Released in early 1981, ‘Painless Nights’ is not punk but could not have happened without it: six songs plus three instrumentals that offer the deepest drive into the late 70’s unconscious that you can find outside Joy Division. The rhythm section is fluid and driving, the guitar textures at once abrasive and psychedelic, the vocals crooned and ad-libbed. The lyrics add up to one long, 35 minute (self)accusation that spins off from the Iggy-like ‘I wanna be cruel !’ into moony yelps. With its apocalyptic prophecies and relentless, wind-whistle guitars, ‘Los Gatos’ is a mesmeric culmination: ‘You can always tell/ When you are gong to hell’.
It was also the last thing the Sleepers ever recorded. ‘Los Gatos’ shows the effects of speed,’ says Michael Belfer. ‘We had to drive Ricky back to his grandparents every night we while were recording; if he went into the city, he’d disappear. One night we tricked him: we said we’d take him to the speed dealer. All five of us were in a Mustang and as we turned down the ramp onto Highway 101, Ricky freaked. We were holding him down but his legs shot out and he kicked the transmission into reverse. There was an incredible bang and the car just coasted. The band just lost it. They dragged him out and beat him up. He was black and blue. He sang “Los Gatos” right after that.’
After the album Sleepers broke up onstage at New York’s Hurrah on the opening date of an East Coast tour (Williams passed out on-mike), a temporary band completed the dates but that was it. Belfer returned to college, graduated in composition and cultural studies, and now plays guitar and keyboards with Black Lab, who have just signed to Epic. He also produces young bands in the Bay Area.
Ricky Williams eventually went to live with his mother in El Camino: “it’s a seedy strip in the suburbs. They’d get up, one of them would go and get a six pack and they’d watch TV all day. His mom got run over and killed and it broke his heart. He died two months later, in November 1994. I saw him until his death: he couldn’t believe that I’d given up drink and drugs but we had a great rapport. Ricky had huge emotional problems but he had a great heart.”