Dennis Young (Liquid Liquid)

"I never thought we were dance [music]. I always thought we were like a semi-punk alternative group, with some world music influences. We didn't hit that dance market until 'Cavern.'"

I’m going to guess that somewhere between sixty and seventy five percent of you saw the title of this post and immediately thought about the exact same thing I was thinking about when I wrote it, and which takes over my brain every single time that band’s name is mentioned. All together now:

da-dun da-dun da-dun da-da-dun

da-dun da-dun da-dun da-da-dun

da-dun da-dun da-dun da-da-da-dun da-dun da-da-da-dun da-dun da-da-dun

For the two or three of you who are somehow unfamiliar, Liquid Liquid’s “Cavern,” off their seminal 1983 Optimo EP, is one of those undeniable grooves, like “Down By the River” or “Sweet Jane,” that hundreds of other bands have spent their entire careers ripping off. Something like 75-80% of the acts I was going to see in the ‘00s and ‘10s should arguably have been paying these guys royalties.

And speaking of royalties: “Cavern”’s bass line, groove, and vocal melodies were notoriously copied without attribution or remuneration by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five for their anti-cocaine hit “White Lines (Don’t Do It)” that same year. After a prolonged legal battle, the band and their label, 99 Records, were awarded $600,000, but Sugar Hill Records, to which Flash was signed, chose to declare bankruptcy rather than pay. 99 went belly-up; Ed Bahlman, who owned the label and managed the band, quit the music business and hasn’t been heard from since. Liquid Liquid, which had already lost bassist Richard McGuire, fell apart soon after.

“Cavern” alone would have solidified Liquid Liquid’s place in the history books, but pretty much every note of their tragically limited discography is essential listening. Tim Sommer, writing in the Observer in 2015, asserted that “the only New York bands on Liquid Liquid’s level are the Ramones and the Velvet Underground,” and I pretty much agree (although I’d put Sonic Youth and Talking Heads on that dais as well). That’s especially impressive considering that Liquid Liquid never even recorded a full-length LP.

After the band’s dissolution, percussionist Dennis Young made a hard pivot to meditative, synth-driven music - pitched somewhere between Cluster and Iasos - which he released on a series of cassettes under the name Dennis Andrew. Some of these have been reissued in recent years, and although they bear little aesthetic relation to Liquid Liquid’s nervy post-punk, they are similarly fantastic.

But as I discovered while preparing for this interview, that’s only the tip of Young’s post-LL musical output, which has ranged from cathartic drum-and-vocal freakouts to acoustic singer-songwriter material. Recently, he has also expanded his pursuits to podcasting, conducting in-depth interviews with contemporaries like the multi-instrumentalist Elliott Sharp and Contortions/Bush Tetras guitarist Pat Place, as well as longtime heroes like Captain Beefheart guitarist Bill Harkleroad and Van der Graaf Generator’s David Jackson.

We spoke over zoom earlier this month.

My understanding is that you were the one member of Liquid Liquid that wasn't also in the earlier incarnation of the band, Liquid Idiot.

Right. I knew the guys in Liquid Idiot back at Rutgers University. That’s where the band really started. At Rutgers, I met Richard McGuire in an avant garde music class called “Sound Through Tape.” He was sitting next to me, and he had this flyer for this big percussion jam in New Brunswick. Scott Hartley, who was the drummer, went to Rutgers too.

Were you studying music?

No, I really didn't study music. It was just they had these great music courses at Rutgers. They had a jazz department, and in that jazz department, they had these great classes of study with drummers and gamelan players. It was really mostly extra courses that I took; I was taking an economic degree at that time. It was just a fluke meeting these guys and clicking.

I wasn’t in Liquid Idiot, but I was in the Idiot Orchestra. That was a 12-piece band Richard McGuire formulated. We only played four shows, but it was really fantastic. A drummer, two bass guitars, clarinet, cello, trumpet, all types of equipment, and it sounded almost like ‘30s [music]. There's a record of it on Superior Viaduct. We played a show at the Mudd Club, which was kind of fun. But I thought after that, that was it.

Did you move to the city after college?

No, I stayed in New Jersey, and I commuted in to play. I had a nice little studio in my house where I lived, and I was also doing my own music at the time. I had drums and keyboards and all types of gear, and I wanted to keep playing what felt like my own music also, [so I stayed in] Central Jersey, around the Edison area. But I was in the city a lot playing and practicing.

How did you come to join the band?

I came in to do a recording session for the song “Groupmegroup.” I got a call: “We need some rototoms on this song.” I came in, I did the recording, and I left. I figured, That's about it, I'll never really hear from these guys again. And then they asked me if I wanted to do this show in New York.

Where was the show?

It was Downtown somewhere. I forget the name of the place. It was on Avenue A or B down there; I have to look it up. But that was really the start of it. They asked me if I wanted to be in the band. I had this marimba that I’d just bought - I only had it a little while - and then the rototoms I had on my drum set, and cymbals. It was the same equipment I’d used in the Idiot Orchestra.

Where did the band rehearse?

We practiced in New York, in their little apartment that they had on [West] 80th Street. That's where we started out. [Vocalist] Sal Principato and Richard McGuire [lived there,] and I believe Scott was there for a little bit too. It was a pretty cozy place. A lot of the early practice was developing these songs. They still had some leftover songs from Liquid Idiot too that they incorporated.

Was the writing just coming out of communal jamming?

Yeah, pretty much jamming. We'd have the tape player going, we’d maybe smoke some weed and whatever, and let the vibe happen.

The first big show was Hurrah’s. That was probably our third live show; we’d played Tier 3 Before that. Hurrah’s was incredible - it felt like the big time! We played with Polyrock that night, and they were a good band back then. Three of the songs are on the first record [were recorded] that particular night.

Had you been going to these clubs before joining the band?

I really wasn't into any of that. I think I was first exposed to it from those shows. I was really into a lot of prog stuff at that time, a lot of Yes and Genesis, jazz fusion, some world music. Not a lot of punk, and not as much in the dance world until I started going to these clubs and playing.

How'd you guys end up signing to 99 Records?

I believe it was through Richard and Sal. They would go to the store. I guess they left a cassette of our music, and then Ed [Bahlman] came to see us at Tier 3. That's when he said, “Okay, we'll put out a record,” and he became our manager and our sound man. So we were lucky! We had the record store and connections to clubs. I can't imagine now, in this day and age, how a lot of bands even make it. But we were very lucky that the scene was right for us. Without Ed, I don't know if we would have had as much success at that point, especially in New York.

But it wasn't easy, because we're young guys in our early twenties. We’d get to the sound check at 7:00 at night, and we’d have to wait till 12:00 or 1:00 in the morning, when it was a packed house. And I gotta tell you, we really pulled it off on all those shows. We didn’t have a lot of bad shows. It was a lot of pressure, but we were able to somehow get beyond that pressure, because the four of us were so locked in to what we did as a band. Once we started, we just focused on the music and tried to block out all that everything around us. I really felt like we gave it our all every show, even when we were off a little bit.

“Cavern” was named after a club in Tribeca where you'd played it for the first time. But other than you guys, I can't find much information about that place. What do you remember about it?

There's a video I put up on YouTube of us playing “Cavern” there for the first time. It was a dark place. Supposedly, John Lydon from P.I.L. was there - I don't know if that was true or not. It was just one of those clubs that opened and closed.

It seems like there were a number of clubs like that in the city at the time, these little semi-legal spots that would just pop up and disappear.

We did a couple of those. Youthanasia was one. The Underground.

The Optimo record was done at Radio City Music Hall. I was sad to read that Don Hünerberg, who was the engineer, just recently passed away. He did some of the first Sonic Youth records, worked with the Ramones, all these great people. We just had one day to do the main tracks, and then I think we had another day to do the overdubs. That was it, two days.

Ed Bahlman worked on a lot of the mixing and production on that. Ed was responsible for making that sound so great, [especially] in “Cavern,” the middle break. He was a big influence on that record. And it sounded so good in that place.

I was literally listening to it right before this call.

It’s a classic! I mean, it was four great songs, and we did a couple more too [at those sessions] that I think we [later] put out on a compilation.

Is there anything still sitting in cans?

I wouldn’t think so. We did do a rare 45 - Ed wanted to do a promotion for the band in 1982, so we went in the studio for one day. We recorded “Push” and “Bellhead,” we mixed it the same day, and it was put out on a rare 45 promotional release. I have a couple copies left, but if you ever see them, they're probably worth a lot of money.

They’re not the same versions that are on the 12”?

No. We sped it up a little bit, and it was great. One day, mixed and recorded. It might have been mastered that day too, I don't know.

When the band was embraced by dance-oriented venues and crowds, how did playing at places like the Fun House or Paradise Garage differ from playing a place like CBGB or the Mudd Club?

Oh, tremendous difference! People were there to dance, the acts were only there for 15-20 minutes, almost like an intermission from the dancing. Fun House was really one of the best shows we had in that era, but those places were primarily for people to go there and party. We only played four songs, that was it, but it was really exciting.

I never expected this group to play in that kind of atmosphere. I never thought we were dance [music]. I always thought we were like a semi-punk alternative group, with some world music influences. We didn't hit that dance market until “Cavern.”

When that crossover happened, did you guys pivot away from playing the more punky places you’d been playing?

No, I don't think so. Those were special events. I mean, at that time, we were a three piece band. Richard McGuire had left the band already, he just came back for those shows. Those [dance club shows] were more special event types of shows. I think that was when the “White Lines” thing happened too.

We didn't play many [dance clubs]. We only played like, three or four - that's it. We didn't do more than that in New York. And we did one in Newark, Club Zanzibar.

That place is legendary!

It was an all-Black club. We came on at 4:00 in the morning. We had a sound check again early, and we had to wait in the hotel¹ for so many hours. That was a crazy night, but a lot of fun. And playing with Chaka Khan at Paradise Garage was amazing. She was a headlining act - we just played a quick 15 minute set, and then she came on.

Was there anything else going on scene-wise in Jersey at that point?

I don't remember. I was so involved with my own thing back then, I wasn't really going to too many clubs. When I wasn't playing the band, I was jamming with people, or I was recording. But there was City Gardens. We played City Gardens with Regressive Aid - that band was Simeon Cain, E. William Tucker (who was in Ministry), and this guy, Andrew [Weiss], who produced Ween. That was a great band.

I’m very curious about that iconic “Uptown Meets Downtown” show that Rick Rubin booked at the Diplomat Hotel with Heart Attack and Treacherous Three.

That was bizarre. There wasn't anybody there, really. It was a bad crowd. It was in this conference room at an old hotel in Midtown. Rick was standing in the back with his dark sunglasses on. He was a quiet guy. He arranged it with Ed - Rick would hang out at the store, and Ed told him how to start a label and gave him a lot of tips.

Treacherous Three, they were great, and Heart Attack was a great punk band, but I thought it was a bust. It was a weird night. At that time, I didn't really think about it too much - it was another show. But now in hindsight, I think it was quite a historic event, even though hardly any people were there.

But getting back to “Cavern,” right after that is when all the “White Lines” stuff with Grandmaster Flash hit. And I was kind of sad after Richard decided to leave. [99] had promised us one more record, so we went back to Radio City and did Dig We Must as just a three-piece, which has never [been reissued]. And then that was it. It just stopped.

After the band broke up, you started making a lot of ambient music.

I was always interested in electronic music. I got a four-track cassette player, and I just started recording all this stuff at my little studio, and I put it out on cassette. I did four or five ambient recordings. And then at the same time, after the band broke up, I was doing things with RD3 Records down in Princeton. I was still playing music with other people and jamming, [but also] evolving into this electronic music period.

Had that been something that you were interested in back in the Liquid Liquid days?

I believe so. I was listening to a lot of German krautrock stuff like Can and Klaus Schultze, and a little bit of Brian Eno, so I bought a couple synthesizers and started making music that way. I had a Korg Mono/Poly, a little Radio Shack Moog, a lot of digital delays, an E-Bow, and I was doing some weird vocals with it and some drumming. A South Korean gentleman got a hold of me about ten years ago, and we released three of those records from that era.

I saw a reference in another interview you did about selling some of those cassettes at New Age conferences…

I did a couple of those. I never did sell much, but it was kind of interesting to do. I had a booth with tapes playing and a whole rack of these cassettes, and I had somebody else that was in the booth that was also selling some music. I can't say I stayed in that scene long, but it was kind of fun. There's a lot of hucksters in that [scene, and a lot of] characters. I actually [collaborated] with a lady, Marie Gallo, who wrote a book on the audiobook - I played the music in the background with it, and she was at the booth. The book was about trying to be positive and how to get your life better, and it had the cassette attached. I wish I still had the book, I don't know what happened to it.

But the peak of that whole electronic scene was, I did four planetarium shows that were really great: Raritan Valley College, New Jersey Museum, Ocean County College, and there was one other I forget. Somebody at Ocean County College who ran the planetarium said, “You got this music, let's do a show,” and he did all the visuals. I have the audio from it, but it's too bad I didn't do the video with that, [because] he had all the images with the music I did.

The timeline is a little blurry to me, but there's other stuff that I've heard that’s more singer-songwriter-y.

Yeah. This record Shadow that took me a whole year to do. I did it at Firedog Studios in Spotswood, NJ, and once every couple weeks I'd work on it. I had some acoustic songs on guitar, and then it just built into this record that organically happened too. That was just going to be a demo of some songs I was working on for some short, little acoustic shows at coffee houses, but it turned into a record that's probably my best singer-songwriter record.

Right now I'm in transition. I don't know what I'm going to work on next. I've done some more acoustic kinds of records. But right now, I've been concentrating on the YouTube shows, the podcasts, so that takes up a lot of time.

What was the inspiration for the podcast?

Well, once again, it's one of those things that just organically happens. I just did one for Brad Kleiman, a friend who I play music with here. We had already a YouTube channel, so [I thought] okay, I'll just do an interview. After that, Al Diaz was in mind, I know him. Before you know it, it snowballed into a whole series of fantastic interviews. You learn so many things you never knew about people. I do a lot of research, because you want to have basic outlines of the person's career so that you don't look stupid. You could look like an idiot pretty fast, especially with [Roxy Music guitarist] Phil Manzanera - that's a heavyweight, so I was nervous about that one.

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity, brevity, and context.

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And of course, if you haven’t already…

1. Club Zanzibar was located inside the Lincoln Motel, a former Holiday Inn.