Before he was Lemony Snicket, Pennywise the Clown, Wadsworth the Butler or Annie’s nemesis Rooster, but after he had become known as that “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania” and midnight-movie sensation Dr. Frank-N-Furter, actor Tim Curry launched an equally provocative, though all-too short-lived singing career.
Curry had already been featured on record as part of the 1974 Original Roxy Cast of The Rocky Horror Show and the 1975 film soundtrack to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. In 1976, the producer of those two records, the legendary Lou Adler, produced what would have been Curry’s vocal debut for the Ode label (which I will always admire for Tom Scott and Cheech and Chong’s 1976 novelty hit “Framed”). For some reason, Curry’s record was not issued at the time and would not appear in full until 2010, but only as a digital-only download titled From the Vaults.
Curry’s official debut was the 1978 A&M release Read My Lips, produced by legendary rock producer Bob Ezrin (Alice Cooper, Kiss and, later, Pink Floyd, Jane’s Addiction and Peter Gabriel). The record failed to make any waves. But Curry’s 1979 follow-up, Fearless, captured people’s attention – including, at the time, mine. It is as raw and abrasive as it is cheeky and entertaining.
The highlights of the set are surely the LP’s sole American single, “I Do the Rock” – a minor hit, which broke through the Billboard Hot 100 to reach number 91 in November 1979 – and “Paradise Garage,” which was mysteriously released as a single only in Germany. Official videos of the two songs were also created at the time, both of which I am pleased to share here.
There is nothing more fun – and possibly retro-actively offensive – than this exquisite take-down of pop culture, circa 1979 at the time. It’s as though Curry curated his lyrics here by opening an issue of People and/or Andy Warhol’s Interview magazine to craft his almost spoken-word lyrics. You have to love the way Curry – part Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Freddie Mercury and all Tim Curry (as sexy as hell, by the way) – roars out the line “I do the RRRRawk.” It’s Tony the Tiger meets Performance‘s Mr. Turner.
Curry provided the lyrics. But future film-score composer Michael Kamen (1948-2003…Pink Floyd – The Wall, Terry Gilliam’s brilliant Brazil, several Lethal Weapon entries, Die Hard, and Hudson Hawk) wrote the music to this clever pop song. Prominent amongst the musicians here is guitarist Dick Wagner (Alice Cooper) and bassist Bob Babbitt (Motown and LRC recordings of Jimmy McGriff and Lonnie Smith).
Alto saxophonist David Sanborn adds a special grist to the performance here (he’s seen in the video as well). While Sanborn’s sound was known on AM radio at the time through such hits of David Bowie’s “Young Americans” and James Taylor’s “How Sweet it Is” (both 1975), fans might not know of his extraordinary contributions here.
Some of the great Curry lines here include all of the lead-ins to the four-word chorus: “Me, I do the only thing that still makes sense to me,; “Me, I do the only thing that stops me growing old;” “I’m afraid philosophy is just too much re-spons-ibil-ity for me;” “I could never whack a ball with such vel-o-city;” “It must be really frightful to attract pub-li-city;” “I could never get the hang of ide-o-logy.”
Tim Curry’s other great Fearless song is the rock-ish “Paradise Garage,” named for the historic dance palace (1977-87), founded by Michael Brody and DJ Larry Levan, located at 84 King Street in the SoHo neighborhood of New York City. The video, which features the sound (but not the presence) of saxophonist David Sanborn, is filmed, not in the club, but in a mechanic’s garage.
The song’s chorus is a great disco refrain: ” Baby’s got a dream and she can boogie / Daddy’s got a groove that’s coming clean / Jemie’s got a vision of a permanent position / Me, I’m oiling up my dance machine / And it goes like this / And it goes like this.” The video, to me, is a surprisingly G-rated take on Kenneth Anger’s 1963 classic Scorpio Rising.
A&M issued one more album by Tim Curry, Simplicity, in 1981, featuring the Reggae-inflected single “Working On My Tan” (also with David Sanborn), but it failed to cross over in any way. Tim Curry never recorded another album again. Such a shame.