Ah, the early ‘80s! Phil Collins…Princess Di…Air Supply...Styx…Menudo! Studio Line hair goop...mods, rockers…skinheads! Conflict and Fun! I was there! I discovered that most exotic rockin’ combo -- the Surf Piranhas. February 25, 1983: Rue de Grenelle, Paris. They were burning down the house at the American College in Paris’ grimy cafeteria annex. Two hundred sweaty, rockin’ college kids from thirty countries were gyratin’ to the TWANG! A**-o-luley Smokin’! By the time the Surf Piranhas took their first break, I had already downed about eight bottles of 33 Record Extra Dry; the SP’s had some foxy babes hanging around them and so, in order to impress the FINE ladies, I blustered in and quickly, pompously began discussing Big Money and Record Deals! I spoke knowingly of foreign currency. What were they like? Well, as mentioned, the chicks were hot – hence my intervention! But the band? Well, they were young, feisty and opinionated -- they said they didn’t like Toto, or Survivor or Pat Benatar, they didn’t really like Eric Clapton or Billy Joel, and they hated Christopher Cross and Kenny Loggins. In fact they hated most of the stuff that was polluting the world’s airwaves in 1983. They were into the Challengers, Duane Eddy, Joe and Eddie, Little Joe and the Latinaires, and Don Gibson; and of course, all things instrumental surf. And they were into it in 1983! Boss Piranha Drew Weaver spent his first year (1981) in Paris without playing much music. “I had an old guitar and a penchant for sappy, meaningful folk songs,” he says today, at home in San Clemente, California. He works there for a finance company, which “lends money to people who can’t afford the stuff they want.” Weaver explains. We are walking along the railroad tracks at Calafia Beach. “Petrovich was brooding back in California,” recalls the strangely distant, athletic Weaver, “and he was jealous as hell of the high life I was leading in Paris, I mean, who wouldn’t be…?” he muses. “Umm, the exotic women, so soft… so willing... uh, the fine wines,“ he rambles on vaguely. “It was child’s play to convince him to come over and start a band.” Petrovich came and stayed a year (his first of two French sojourns) but the band (known as the El Caminos) would never record, though they did do some live shows. Other members were bassist Phil Baker and drummer Gilles Frégé. Mr. Frégé was to remain as Weaver’s drummer for nine years. In the fall of 1982, Jan Press and Tony Leventhal arrived in Paris to study, and together with Weaver and Frégé, the Surf Piranhas were spawned. They played often and loudly, frequently in front of baffled yet delighted French college students. They were upbeat and surfy -- they wore Hawaiian shirts and white leather shoes with soles composed of affordable, man-made materials. They were fragrant musicians. They played some big gigs -- Le Palace, Parc des Princes, they played the Rock Garden in London as well as spots in Spain, Italy, and Belgium. “We ate big bags of carrots at every practice and we practiced three times a week, every week, three hours per practice,” recalls Weaver, as he refinishes an old, worthless piece of furniture in the basement of his home. The rehearsals took place at Hubert Brebion’s famed H.B.S. Studios, then located in a teeming, rather Turkish district of Paris – the crime-ridden rue du Faubourg St. Denis. “Twelve hours a week!” shouts Weaver. “That’s why we were able to finish an album in one day -- ‘cause we were ready, and healthy o’ course…from all the carrots...and the succulent Schwarma,” asserts Weaver, referring to a dubious Middle Eastern sandwich-like wrap of shaved lamb, goat, chicken, turkey, beef, or a mixture thereof. “Schwarma -- very healthy,” he concludes, pointing to his bicep with obvious pride. Ray Price’s City Lights blares loudly from the basement’s ancient Sansui sound system. Weaver swigs a little Laird’s Applejack and gets back to his sanding and reminiscing “…plus, those guys were very detail-oriented musicians... and Press in particular was just plain hot... He could learn stuff so quickly...” ______________________________________________________________________ “We learned Mr. Moto and Misirlou from old Challengers albums,” notes drummer Frégé today. Here in Paris’ Square des Batignolles, the weather is cold but splendid. We are sharing an affordable plastic liter-bottle of pinard. In this case the label reads Duc de Bourgogne, but paradoxically informs us that the hearty, intoxicating brew comes from “different regions of the European community!” A multi-cultural blend! Like the Surf Piranhas themselves! Mystery! In any case – savory! The sun has dappled the ancient maple trees with romance and promise. Algerian rap blares from somewhere in the park – and several young Arabs are huddled around their trashcan fire – keeping warm, laughing, slurping Sidi Brahim and swearing loudly. Ignoring them, Frege continues….”my English was not so good at the time, but I was sure the band was good….anyway, I had some high-class American friends over for dinner one night and I excitedly played them our music….betise, mistake” he mutters, grimacing. The painful memory is obviously still fresh. “When they heard what Weaver was singing about, (cannibalism) they became offended….they left in a huff – the blanquette de veau was wasted….” The melancholy Frenchman stares off at the happy children on the merry-go-round as he takes a sad little nip from our bottle…. In any event, a snowy March 5th 1983 found the super-rehearsed combo in a Chennevieres-sur-Marne (France) 24-track studio to record with engineer Gerard Lhomme, and in one day they laid down ten songs, all of which are included on this collection for the first time. “We did everything live, even the vocals, using an SM57” notes Leventhal proudly; seated next to guitarist Press at the bar Leventhal has an interest in, in New York City. “And we did the whole thing in about eight hours!” Press, currently a highly paid Nashville session guitarist, is equally amazed. “When I think of how long it takes these days to get just one song together...” he says, taking a long drag from a Kool Menthol. “By the end of the session there were like, uh …spectators,” adds Leventhal. “The last song we did was Rancho Verde…nailed it in one take and lemme tell ya – jaws were dropping out in that control room!” Both men chuckle, reaching for their frosty forty-ounce bottles of malt liquor. This electric, rockin’ set was picked up by legendary French promoter Dominic Lamblin of the French label, Underdog - distributed by Carrere, and released on vinyl in 1984 as Both Sides of the Surf. This is an extremely rare record, and it fetches top dollar with collectors in the singularly cultish market of recorded surf. We’re proud to reintroduce the world to this buzz saw of a band. Six live, raw tracks from an October 1983 Gibus (Paris) performance are included as well as Boss Piranha and Undertow, which were part of the original Chennevieres session but have remained unreleased for twenty-five years! Also included is Do the El Camino, (featuring Joey Petrovich) recorded at the sprawling rue Gazan compound of the late, beloved French comedian Coluche. The Piranhas were regular visitors to the great man’s lair, drinking Martini Rouge and hob-nobbing with glamorous French celebrities like Carole Bouquet, Hughes Aufray, les Coco Girls and Beatrice Dalle. Batista Gonzales President – Black Saddle Entertainment A Division of Party Dish International Houston, Texas