tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910067.post114037928084156459..comments2024-03-24T08:17:55.097-04:00Comments on BLOG TO COMM: Christopher Stiglianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107248034597839482noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910067.post-86534669895422272352011-04-12T20:32:41.320-04:002011-04-12T20:32:41.320-04:00Miriam,
I never read your tribute until it was li...Miriam, <br />I never read your tribute until it was linked on the varmint's facebook entry. Very personal and appreciated. Wow. What an exciting time for the real kids and music. It was hard news to take when Allen died. Me and Peter and our male offspring were living in Texas at the time.<br /> I'll remember the joy in Allen and the real kids everytime the needle hits the record and I feel like dancin'<br /><br />Milissa Greenberg<br />milissa5678@yahoo.comMnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910067.post-11693740013609998132008-03-29T15:40:00.000-04:002008-03-29T15:40:00.000-04:00Hey,Just happened across this blog while Googling ...Hey,<BR/><BR/>Just happened across this blog while Googling myself (like you don't!). This entry of yours is 2 years old, but if you're still interested in seeing my 35-year-old fanzine, let me know.<BR/><BR/>Pete Tomlinson<BR/>petertomlinson@earthlink.netAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910067.post-1140384226630920742006-02-19T16:23:00.000-05:002006-02-19T16:23:00.000-05:00Here's the official Norton press release by Miriam...Here's the official Norton press release by Miriam Linna regarding the passing of the Real Kids' Alpo. So don't go sayin' there's no good writing on the web:<BR/><BR/>We begin with sad news. Bass player Allen "Alpo" Paulino passed away at home <BR/>in Massachusetts unexpectedly on February 7. Alpo was a founding member of <BR/>Boston's REAL KIDS and will be hugely missed by all who knew him.<BR/><BR/>As Tears Go By: I Remember Alpo<BR/>by Miriam<BR/><BR/>I saw the Real Kids for the first time in the Spring of 1977 when CBGB's <BR/>hosted a weekender of Boston bands. They blew my tiny little brain to bits and <BR/>proceeded to do so each and every time I saw them. The original lineup of John <BR/>Felice, Allen "Alpo" Paulino, Billy Borgioli and Howie Ferguson has continued to <BR/>deliver the same brand of pure teenage energy in their occasional reunions <BR/>over the years. I became pals with the band that first night at CBGB's, just <BR/>before they signed with Marty Thau, who was hatching his new record label, Red <BR/>Star Records. In fact, it was the band who asked Marty to hire me as the press <BR/>agent at Red Star, a job that taught me a lot about the biz. One of the first <BR/>tasks at hand at the label was attending the recording sessions for the Real <BR/>Kids debut album, an amazing experience that I'll never forget. (I had been in a <BR/>recording studio just once before, when the Cramps recorded their first demos <BR/>at Bell Sound with Richard Robinson-- and that had been quite the experience, <BR/>banging the tubs in the same room that Teenage Head was cut.) But now, <BR/>watching the Real Kids explode with their own brand of anger-exhuberance-angst <BR/>fueled with endless beer and pizza, near fist-fights and regular blow-ups, I felt <BR/>like I was privy to the making of something that would change the world. <BR/>Records had always been one big giant mystery to me- how a piece of revolving <BR/>plastic could initiate a physical and emotional response from the listener was <BR/>incredible enough, but watching the band blast through the sounds that would end up <BR/>on wax was, and still is, nothing short of miraculous. It would be some years <BR/>before I visited a pressing plant in person and saw blobs of PVC being <BR/>stamped into rock n' roll records-- that, friends, is better than any thrill ride in <BR/>the world. The sight, sound and smell of molten wax and steam and sweaty <BR/>machine operators, the clang and bang and hiss-- oh, man! But I digress. So, John <BR/>and Alpo came stayed at my apartment on East 5th Street when the band came <BR/>down from Boston to record the debut album, and I got to know them as the <BR/>genuine, fabulous people that they were. I remember one night off from the studio, <BR/>we went to the Bottom Line to see Tom Petty, who was starting to make some <BR/>noise. The guys didn't like him a bit, and expressed their displeasure. Alpo was <BR/>quite vocal in his peanut gallery commentary and sure enough, all three of us <BR/>were quickly pulled up by the collars and removed from the premises. John <BR/>decided to stop over at Marty's pad and Alpo and I headed over to my place to <BR/>listen to records and read old teen magazines. He was great at doing soft spoken <BR/>Brian Jones imitations-- a major Rolling Stones fanatic. That one night, we were <BR/>blasting records and yapping til about three in the morning, waiting for John <BR/>to come back. When he didn't return, we figured he'd decided to stay over at <BR/>Marty's with Howie and Billy. Early in the morning, when the sun was coming up <BR/>and we were on our umpteenth cup of coffee, we heard a loud thud in the <BR/>hallway. When Alpo opened the door, we found John lying on the floor, covered with <BR/>blood. "Why didn't you open the door?" he wailed. He had been beaten up by <BR/>some jocks on the block, and had made it up six flights before he had collapsed. <BR/>He said he didn't have the strength to knock any more, but could hear us in <BR/>the front room blasting records, having fun. I'll never forget Alpo dragging <BR/>John in and cleaning him up, all logic and clarity and responsibility, quietly <BR/>promising vengeance on the curs who had done this to his friend. That night <BR/>came back in conversations with Alpo over the years-- we would talk quite <BR/>honestly and naturally about life and music and the future and how great it was to be <BR/>alive and how everybody who thought different were obviously wrong because we <BR/>were so RIGHT. We had the same conversation six weeks ago, right around <BR/>Christmas, when Alpo called, bursting with joy about a great idea that he was <BR/>putting into action. He said he had quit being a drug counselor and that he was <BR/>looking to get a job at a coffee shop so that he could concentrate on putting <BR/>together a band called C. Watts (for Charlie!), made up of guys who had never <BR/>played instruments before. In fact, they were on their way to go buy some drums, <BR/>and Alpo was asking about what all they should get-- I advised him to get the <BR/>smallest kit possible and we have some laughs about the less-is-more <BR/>mentality. I was thrilled to hear Alpo in such excellent spirits, and again we talked <BR/>about how great it was that the Stones were still on top and that rock n' roll <BR/>was still running our lives. Alpo was a gentleman, a considerate, intelligent, <BR/>thoughtful, energetic human being with immense talent, not only as a bass <BR/>player, but as a singer. His harmonies with John are absolutely inimitable, and <BR/>essential to their sound. He never veered from that attitude, that he was clued <BR/>into the Real Deal, that he was doing good work by playing and living rock n' <BR/>roll. You've heard stories of his heartaches, his battles with personal <BR/>demons, his overcoming the accident in which he lost fingers- no small thing to a <BR/>stringbuster! He overcame all of these setbacks, survived them with a heart as <BR/>clear and fresh and busting with positivity as I had ever heard it. He said he <BR/>would call again from a C. Watts rehearsal and have the band play some stuff <BR/>over the phone, but that call did not come. I figured either they weren't <BR/>ready to be heard, or that some members had fallen through the cracks. But I had <BR/>counted on getting that call eventually, with some wildass beat-happy mayhem <BR/>blasting incoherently over the other end, probably blazing through an inept Get <BR/>Off My Cloud with a great bass line. Alpo's funeral is tomorrow morning. <BR/>It'll be a cold, lonesome drive up to Boston on the Mass Pike and then further <BR/>along on Route 128 (and the power lines) up to Beverly, where last prayers will <BR/>be canted in memory of our friend. Our love and condolences to Allen's family, <BR/>and to John, Howie, and Billy of the original Real Kids and to the sophomore <BR/>lineup's Billy Cole, too, and to the Nervous Eaters, the Cheater Slicks and <BR/>unnamed C. Wattsters and everyone everywhere who basked, at one time or many, in <BR/>the glory of our friend Alpo.<BR/><BR/>Better Be Good,<BR/>- Miriam LinnaChristopher Stiglianohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17107248034597839482noreply@blogger.com