Freeway and the Vin Numbers
CHAPTER 16: POWER CHORD
Brad Wolzinsky
The first time I heard the name Freeway & the Vin Numbers was Groundhog Day, 2011. I’m a music writer for Power Chord magazine. Just as Punxsutawny Phil was scurrying out of his hole and likely not seeing his shadow somewhere in Pennsylvania, my editor Tim popped his head into my New York office and threw the band’s debut CD on my desk as I was talking on the phone.
“I gotta go, Sully,” I said. “Yup. I’m so glad you scored last night. Later dude.”
“What’s this?” I asked Tim.
“Jenny recommended them for the New England region,” Tim said. “They’re getting some buzz on college radio.”
“What’s this for again?” I asked groggily, still waiting for my morning coffee to kick in.
“Don’t you remember, Brad?” he persisted. “Spring issue, best indie bands nobody’s ever heard of. You said you’d prefer New England this year instead of your old stomping ground, the Upper Midwest.”
“Oh yeah, vaguely,” I said, shaking my long, blond mane that was perfect for head banging and filtering out assignments I’d prefer to forget. “So where are they from? Don’t tell me you’re sending me to Bumblefuck, Maine. It better be somewhere within a hooker’s ass of the city and within three bars of a cell tower.”
“Providence, I believe,” Tim said. “Right up I-95. I e-mailed you the download of their record as well.”
“Can’t wait to hear it,” I said sarcastically as my extremely tolerant editor happily departed my office.
Tim wouldn’t be so tolerant of me and my unique personality if I couldn’t write. Fortunately for me, I had been cranking out pretty good shit for Power Chord over the last five years. I started as a freelancer when I was 23 and would work for chump change. Hell, I was always going to rock shows anyway — might as well write about them and the bands behind the music. I was offered a full-time gig here in the Big Apple in 2008. I preferred either long, in-depth pieces or quick reviews of concerts and records. I wasn’t a big fan of annual canned packages like who’s hot, who’s emerging, who’s sucking enough corporate dick to get played on the radio, etc.
I powered down the rest of my coffee and grabbed the CD, which was thicker than usual for an independent record. The cover art had a girl dressed as an angel rolling around with what looked like a grim reaper in the back of a paddy wagon.
“Shaggin’ Dragon Paddy Wagon?” I muttered to myself. “Freeway & the Vin Numbers. Catchy like an STD.”
I flipped the CD over and almost fell off my chair.
“A double fucking album? Are you kidding me?” I protested to myself out loud. “What independent debut band puts out a double album? 24 songs?”
The label was Ocean Drive Records out of Miami. I was familiar with Ocean Drive, big fan of it actually because it’s quite the party spot. But I had never heard of the label. I scanned the song list and found more than a few interesting titles.
The first CD included:
Too Quick
Papa was a Gravestone
My Paul
Shaggin’ Dragon Paddy Wagon
Police Station Blues
When She Wears Clothes
Sirens & Songs
Wayward Wanderer
Dashes to Ashes
Saturn
Crazee Leaf
Medieval Upheaval
The second CD included the following songs:
Dirigible
Bucket of Blues
Freeway in the Front Yard
Takes Us There
200 Proof
Zero Gravity
Hour-Glass Goddess
Hell Phone
Some Other Shore
Jamming by the I
Empty Streets
Colonel of Truth
My interest was piqued enough to look inside right away, not something I usually do with indie records unless I’ve heard of the band. Wow. These guys must have some money behind them. Complete lyrics and even some photos of the band performing live. Three white guys and two black guys, one of whom was trying to look like Jimi Hendrix and succeeding pretty well. One of the white guys had a mullet and looked a lot like D.J., a guy I went to college with in Milwaukee. The record was recorded in Providence and Miami and mixed in Miami. The band included Freeway Wilson on lead guitar and vocals; Vin Masoli on bass and vocals; Craig Hurley on rhythm guitar and keyboards; Buck Griffin on drums and Ronnie “Friday” Barnes on question mark … as in “?” It was already one surprise after another with these guys and I hadn’t even listened to one note of music yet.
The record was produced by Butch Sevigny. Again, never heard of him. The band was managed by Al Masoli. Very interesting. Same name as the bassist. Some kind of nepotism going on here or what?
I closed my office door, popped the first of the two CDs into my computer, crashed onto my “listening couch” and closed my eyes.
The first track, “Too Quick,” was a polished, bluesy and moody song with soft, smooth vocals and a simple, catchy guitar hook that got my attention and wouldn’t let go. The guitarist and singer had to be the Hendrix-like guy. He was more than a look-alike. He was trying to pick up where Hendrix left off and did it quite well. I especially was impressed by the weight and power of the lyrics:
“The Axman, the Lizard King and Moby Dick
Death came and took y’all too quick
Lives too thin, legacies too thick
Break down the door that stands between us
And let us in
Fill up the shore that stands between us
And let us swim.”
I also thought it was a bold move to begin a double CD with a slower song like that. Clearly, these guys were setting the tone for their music by crafting an original tribute to the legends who inspired them. Just one song into the album, I immediately had a sense that Freeway & the Vin Makers had the potential to be a special band if they weren’t special already.
Then I listened to the other 23 songs at various times over the course of that Groundhog Day. There were some clunkers for sure, but I counted at least 10 tunes that deserved to be played again several times over. The songs possessed enough bluesy depth, raw power or pleasant melody to grab the ear and, depending on the track, enough lyrical pull to grab the brain, heart or funny bone.
A few lyrical pieces that initially stood out included:
“Her name is Angel
But when she wears clothes
She likes to dress as the Devil
Yeah, I see you girl
But are those pretty eyes on the level?
The Stones painted you black
The sea washed you gray
Now all I see is white
Oh no, where’d you go?
Don’t lose your color, girl
Never fade, beautiful rainbow”
That’s from “When She Wears Clothes” off the first record.
Secondly:
“Some pimp the river to Jordan
Some ho the Garden of Eden
We jam the freeway to freedom
And most days there’s nobody on the road
Block out all the lies and be your own truth
Swat away all the flies and be 200 proof
200 proof, 100 percent real
200 proof, 0 percent fool
That’s from “200 Proof.”
Thirdly:
“Driving like a madman
A dangerous game of chicken
Somewhere way up ahead
A time bomb is tickin’
Bipolar ice caps
Schizophrenic shrink wraps
Yellow men in jock straps
Cats caught in mouse traps
Thinking they got nine lives
When all they got is eight
Shake it all up, flip it around
And whaddya got?
A fucked-up world
Better change the maps!
A fucked-up bed
Better change the sheets!
A fucked-up hood
And a ho lot of empty streets!”
That’s from “Empty Streets.”
Fourthly:
“You robbed from Peter
So I could play my Paul”
That little gem was one of my favorites. It's from “My Paul.”
And lastly from “Colonel of Truth,” the final song on the CD, the band clearly makes another reference to James Marshall Hendrix:
“The Marshall of poets
Walks the Field of clover
He spots General Bland
His head still stuck the sand
Many generals have come and gone
We salute the Colonel of Truth
He took us places
We’ve never heard before
Unlocked the magic room
Before we ever saw the door
Even now, ahead of his time
We’re still fishing for pennies
In his fountain of youth
Even now, no sign of his dime
We’re still wishing on pennies
In his fountain of youth
Yeah, we’re still reaping (still reaping)
from the Colonel of Truth.”
The next day, I began doing some research on the band, watching a few crazy YouTube videos and made plans to go see Freeway & the Vin Numbers perform at their CD release party. It would be held at a place called the Sea Mist. Just what the doctor ordered for my nagging head cold and my mid-winter blues: A blustery February night at a club on Matunuck Beach in Rhode Island. These guys had better make it worth the trip. I had a feeling they would.