In the mid-1970s, an assortment of noisy rockers

were quietly building an original-music community centered on maybe a half dozen nightclubs in and around the city of Boston. They took part in a Bicentennial tournament of the bands in 1976--Willie Alexander and his group prevailing. Bob Gifford and Mark Sutton were living on Elliot Street in Jamaica Plain in a house fondly known as Belle Rive. Sutton was at Berklee, while Gifford was working a straight job with Richard Randall.

"Many evenings," recalled Gifford, "we would hang out and jam and sing in the living room, making up songs and ruining old ones ... it was great." Gifford, a guitarist, started learning to play bass. He had been writing songs for a while, and he encouraged Sutton to do the same. As the joyful noise got louder, the company retreated to the basement. Sutton had met guitarist Michael Baker at Berklee. So in 1977, he called Baker and drummer Bob Woodbury, and the four musicians formed a new band. They thought they needed to bring in a vocalist, so they held auditions. None of the singers quite fit, though, and finally Richard Randall told them to do the singing themselves. "Just get up there and do it," he said. "The audience will grow with you."

In 1978, for their first real show, the band played at a Valentine's Day party at the Star Systems loft on Thayer Street. They used a name that was appropriate to the setting--The Rings of Saturn--suggested by Randall. Quickly this moniker was shortened to the Rings.

An interesting feature of the Rings' first performances, both formal and informal, was their choice of songs to cover. These numbers were so obscure that many of their listeners didn't even recognize that they were covers; but anyway, the Rings were on their way already to becoming an original-music band. From a demo tape, evidently their first, we learn the titles of some of their early compositions--"Hold On," "Love Hemorrhage," "Maybe Next Time I'll Learn," and "Wronging My Rights (All Night)."

In the early days, members of the Rings tended to pull in four different directions. Even several years later, Jim Sullivan of the Boston Globe observed that "The Rings are a band that weaves together varying, sometimes contrary strands...."¹ Mike Baker was interested in reggae. Bob Gifford listened to a lot of what, today, we would call alternative stuff. Mark Sutton was more of a classic rocker. And perhaps connected somehow with his Berklee training, Bob Woodbury's drumming proved to be a little complex for the styles of music the others were trying to play. Sometime evidently in 1978, he was asked to leave the group. He went on to play in the Boston band, Unnatural Axe. An update on Woodbury's career in music may be found in Joe Harvard's (essential) Rings article at www.rockinboston.com

Auditions of candidates to fill their drummer slot went every bit as well as did their earlier efforts to find a lead singer ... but somehow Baker, Gifford, and Sutton survived the experience. "Good drummers with restraint, and great licks and good time," said Gifford, "are real rare." Yet the three remaining band members found their ideal percussionist. "We held auditions," said Mark Sutton, "and found Matt Thurber ... still in college, and hell bent and determined to make a difference, musically."

The Rings rehearsed a lot, and the band was steadily improving. Still, getting heard could be a struggle. Speaking of the Boston scene in those days, Bob Gifford remembered, "[I]f you wanted to play, here's what you would do--Anything. Bands would start out playing week day nights. Trying to get a slot opening for a cool headliner on a weekend. Pay your dues, make mistakes, learn a lot, badger the club owners or whoever was booking the clubs."

By this time, Al Perry began looking after business matters for the band. He had been keeping his eye out for an act to manage, when he caught the Rings in their natural habitat--the Rat. Executives at MCA Records were interested in them, and an A&R man was sent to Boston. There is a certain irony in the show he caught. That night at the Paradise, the group opened for Unnatural Axe, whose drummer was none other than Bob Woodbury--a founding member of the Rings. Woodbury recalled, it "was a strange twist of fate for me." He said his old band put on a fine show. "The fans rushed the stage that night and the Rings sounded good." A recording contract with MCA followed.

Early in August, the Rings left for New York and Electric Ladyland Studios to record their debut album. Apparently they expected to be busy for some time, as no local appearances were booked until October. Then suddenly, they found themselves without a record producer; and they were asked to do the honors themselves. "That was the will of God," said Mark Sutton, "not a pre-planned situation. The responsibility got dumped in our laps." Michael Baker added, "I always thought we could pull it off."

Early in January 1981, MCA Records released The Rings (LP, MCA, 1981). Jeff McLaughlin's article in the January 12, 1981, issue of the Boston Globe carried the headline, "The Rings of Boston: Rock Stardom Beckons," though the text of the article spoke much more cautiously about how imprecise the science of predicting rock stardom can be. McLaughlin observed that

The Rings' music is distinctive, a carefully crafted but seamless meld that draws on mainstream rock melodies, new wave harmonies and textures, reggae rhythms and funk wit. ... It is eminently danceable, and already getting airplay on stations all across the rock spectrum.

Carter Alan wrote in Issue 10 of Boston Rock that

The humor and looseness of the Rings' attitude has always positively colored their live shows, alongside an especially sharp rhythmic assault and Mark Sutton's blazing guitar. This "looseness" permeates the entire record, inspiring the songs and driving this reviewer back for more and more.

Very often "Third Generation" was singled out as a highlight both of the LP and of the Rings' live shows. (It would have been my choice, easily, for the first single from the album.) Carter Alan said that "Third Generation," the last track, "rushes in on a scream of infernal guitars to add the final exclamation point" to the album.

One criticism of the Rings, reported by Jeff McLaughlin, is that they sounded "too hard rock for new wave fans to accept right away, too reggae/new wave for hard rockers." "If I were in charge of marketing," answered Michael Baker, "I'd make our diversity a positive element--we aren't a band that sounds like a dozen others."

"Let Me Go," the first single, did well; and the album was enjoying brisk sales around Boston. McLaughlin said that "all the indicators suggest that The Rings could be Boston's next major contribution to popular culture." Predictions of success--some quite lavish--became commonplace in Boston newspapers and radio broadcasts. Manager Al Perry confidently stated, "[T]his is just the beginning."

The next step was obvious enough. This band was terrific in concert. So, get the Rings out there in front of audiences across the country and spread around the excitement they were already generating at club appearances in Boston. What could be simpler?

On Saturday, February 14, 1981--the third anniversary of their debut performance--the Rings played their hearts out at the Paradise Theater. Harold Lepidus had heard the band in their days at the Rat. He witnessed quite a change on this occasion. Writing in Boston Rock, he reported that "The Rings took the stage like they owned the place and played a set ten times better than what I'd expected." Steve Morse of the Boston Globe wrote that

Excessively hyped homecomings can turn out to be anticlimactic horror shows. Only once in a blue moon do they turn out like Saturday's return by the Rings, who proved beyond a doubt why they're on the threshold of stardom. ... The Rings just might become the biggest band out of Boston since the Cars.

Morse made another point--one that is repeated even today by fans of the Rings.

If there was one unifying thread, it was that they exhibited a much higher energy in person than on their self-titled debut album. The album is an adequate representation of the band--their reggae-flavored material comes across well--but it's scant preparation for the intensity of the live show.

Not much later, Eddie Gorodetsky of Boston Rock offered local fans this advice: "The Rings put on a show at the Paradise that proves the album is no fluke. Say goodbye to them. They will be big stars."

When MCA pulled the plug on the Rings' national tour, the loss of career momentum is incalculable. "[S]o we played Boston," said Michael Baker--"The return of the Rings, the return of the returning Rings." Their homecoming was stunning; but it was a reminder, too, of the opportunity that was missed when MCA failed to put them before a national audience.

Our archive has no further information about the Rings until much later in the year when they set out to record their follow-up album. Julie Panebianco of Boston Rock reported that they were "a little bitter, a little smarter, and a lot more determined."

With annoying regularity, the Rings were compared to an already-famous Boston band. At one point when Baker was working on the song "Talk Back," Mark Sutton nodded at a recording studio door and said, "Mike is in there trying to make it not sound like the Cars." Matt Thurber jokingly replied, "Now it sounds like Styx!"

Clearly members of the band were happy with their studio work by the time the first five tracks were nearing completion. Sutton added, "[W]e're itching to play. It'll sound twice as good live."

Rhythm Method (LP, MCA, 1981) was released in November to reviews that, for the most part, were highly favorable.³ Steve Morse of the Boston Globe wrote, "The band has long explored many varieties of music--from ska and reggae to intricate electronic rock--but never have they consolidated their influences as well as they do here on their second album."

[T]his new record has a much brighter, live sound. It has the snap of a good pop record, and Matt Thurber's crackling snare drum attack shows he may have been listening to NRBQ.⁴ On the other hand, subtly complex arrangements key the several rock/reggae fusion cuts, especially Mike Baker's "You Can Never Say It," which deserves airplay throughout the land.⁵

A bit later, Morse's colleague, Jeff McLaughlin, said, "Saxophone lines added by session player Frank Elmo add to the tension and drive...."

Julie Panebianco of Boston Rock said, "[I]t is apparent how much this band has grown. Their songs are much stronger than on the previous album, and the band shines like they do live--they sound exciting."

MCA records planned to start its marketing campaign in January, cleverly avoiding the holiday shopping season. Recently, MCA had had a very poor record when it came to breaking new rock bands. In hindsight, it seems readily apparent that the Rings were signed to the wrong label; but Kate Ingram of Boston Rock saw this even before MCA had failed to promote the first album. "MCA, the Rings' record label, has bombed out more than it's made hits," she wrote; "there are a dozen or more failures, like Trooper, Hotel, Axe, Critical Mass, and several more 'misses' that make one wonder how the label made any money at all, even with the Who and Elton John to balance things out." Elton John and the Who, of course, were already veteran acts; and they were carrying MCA through this period when its management evidently was in unknowing hands.

In his coverage of the new album, Jeff McLaughlin of the Boston Globe digressed brilliantly into a discussion of the workings of the recording industry. "The major labels--and MCA is a giant--are structured, financially and bureaucratically, to require huge sales by the second or third album at the latest. For the Rings, although no numbers are bandied about officially, 'Rhythm Method' must sell substantially better than their debut or MCA may decide national stardom is not in the cards and not exercise its option for a third recording session."

Record companies can put hundreds of thousands of dollars in advertising and marketing campaigns behind a pedestrian album by a "name" band with a loyal following, or by a new group because their album does contain one seemingly sure-fire radio hit. On the other hand, a record company may do virtually nothing to promote a superior effort of musicianship because at first listen there's no "grabber," as an instantly recognizable, catchy tune is called.

Radio's pivotal role adds another factor. The vast majority of album-oriented rock radio stations have symbiotic relationships with record companies, and few give extensive exposure to albums that aren't promoted heavily. So the public's opinion of an album enters into the equation only at a relatively late point: if the record company decides to push it, and the radio stations agree it has merit, then the public hears enough so that it has a chance to cast its votes with dollars in the shops.⁶

The lack of a serious promotional campaign for the Rhythm Method album, on the part of MCA Records, was going to make it hard for the Rings to find their audience outside Greater Boston.

The band had had quite a layoff. Early in December, they returned to performing, headlining a benefit concert, but billing themselves as "Stinko Feldman and the Marshnots." According to Jim Sullivan of the Boston Globe, "They wanted to play before a supportive crowd, friends who knew about the band's alter moniker. Said Baker: 'We wanted people who would help us through our first night.'" The Rings would not be relying on MCA to support a tour this time. "Now we are dealing directly with the booking agency," said Mark Sutton, "and we'll decide what we'll do."

The Rings continued playing out through the month of January 1982. In announcing one show, Steve Morse of the Boston Globe said, "Get ready for a band playing at the peak of its powers. Rock and reggae with a metallic edge that should satisfy the heaviest of fans." We are not told what the Rings got from MCA Records in the way of promotion for Rhythm Method; but it seems likely it wasn't much. By the last weekend in January, the members had decided to break up the band. Michael Baker said, "We were stifled by a lack of promotion. When the music starts, it's fine, but we felt we were misled...."

The Rings went on a farewell tour, planning to give their final show on Friday, March 5th, at the Rat--"where we started," they said. I heard the band during this period, at the Rusty Nail in Sunderland in Western Massachusetts.⁷ Though the group was often compared to the Cars,⁸ I can attest that the comparison was strained at best. Live, the Rings was something of a ragged-but-right punk outfit. And Steve Morse was quite right when he described them as being at the peak of their powers. The Rusty Nail show is among the most memorable rock concerts I ever heard.

Evidently members of the Rings weren't going to get away as easily and as quickly as they thought. Their actual final performance took place at the Spit on March 17, 1982. Ads announced that their instruments would be destroyed after the show. Apparently that was that.

Or, so the Rings seemed to think...

Mike Baker, Bob Gifford, Mark Sutton, Matt Thurber

My original profile of the band was posted at the old Boston Rock and Roll Museum Web site long ago,⁹ and my main e-mail address was linked from it. I heard nothing from anyone in response to that piece for about a year and a half. Then I received an e-mail, asking if the Rings albums had ever been reissued on compact disc. Not much later, I received another quite similar message. Then I got another. Then another...

There's no telling who was first to put a Rings song out on Napster, the then-controversial online file-swapping service. We do know, though, that a demand for "Let Me Go" quickly emerged. It was followed by a demand for their other recordings; and all indications are that this phenomenon has held steady--or even grown--in the months that have followed. Most recently, much of the Rings download activity seems to have shifted to www.kazaa.com, another file-swapping service.¹⁰ The audience, for music by the Rings, that MCA Records was unable to find--with considerable help from New England newspapers--has at last been located.

Third generation got nothin' to say Second generation don't get in the way-oh, aye-oh . . .

-- Alan Lewis, revised June 6, 2001

1. Articles published in the Boston Globe, going back to 1979, may be located and purchased via www.boston.com/globe/search

2. It's amazing how differently we all heard the Rings. Compare the James Isaacs quote to this one from Thomas Sabulis just a few months later in the Boston Globe: "Their music, like their appearance, is unreconcilable. There's a twist to every bend, a curve to every straightaway...."

3. M Howell's review in the January 5, 1982, issue of the Boston Phoenix hardly could have been more negative. It is radically different from any of the other notices that turned up during research for this article and is quite a curiosity.

4. "These guys have an amazing number of ideas," said Matt Thurber, "and if I yell loud enough, they let me throw mine in, too." Evidently Thurber yelled even louder during the Rhythm Method recording sessions and made a substantial creative contribution to that album.

5. Boston Globe, 11/12/1981, Calendar section, p. 8.

6. Boston Globe, 1/4/1982, p. 23.

7. The New Models opened. I sat immediately behind Casey Lindstrom's girlfriend.

8. "Well, they do come from Boston and they do sound more like the Cars than they do Aerosmith...." -- Jim Sullivan

9. In that earlier piece I noted that, at times, the Rings' lyrics took a decidedly dark turn; and among the examples, I listed "Bang Bang (Out of Your Misery)" and the grim "Got My Wish." Regrettably, I added "All I Want To Do Is Watch You Break" to that list. After many recent listenings, though, it is my view that "Watch You Break" is quite funny, whether or not it was intended to be.

10. I'm afraid I'm the wrong person to ask for information about the Rings (or anyone else) on Kazaa or other file-swapping sites; try writing to electric_fireons@yahoo.com

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Copyright © 2001 by Alan Lewis.
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