PDQ: 20 Years of Rockin' the Free World!

My musical career was pretty short-lived and didn't make me an international star. But it was damn fun. In fact, this past April was the 20th anniversary of the beginning of my band. We didn't put out a special two-CD set to commemorate the event or anything, so don't bother rushing to your local FYE or hunting on iTunes or Amazon to find it. In fact, we never put out a CD. I'm sure there are some bootleg videos of us around somewhere. Actually, we were just a cover band that played at weddings and such. Not that cool. And we haven't played together in over ten years. But, as I said, it was damn fun while it lasted.

The band was called PDQ. Not after the "pretty darn quick" line, or after the chocolate milk mix. It was after the names of the guys in the band. Pomeroy, DiMeo, Quatrone. Pretty clever, huh? So, my two brothers were in the band, one on drums, the other on bass, two Pomeroy brothers, both guitar, and one Quatrone who played keyboards. I sang. Oh yeah, I was the lead singer. Which meant, I got all the chicks. Actually, it would have meant that if I was really good looking and in a real band.

As I said, we performed at weddings and assorted parties at church halls and Knights of Columbus events, for people in their 50s, 60s and 70s, playing songs from the '50s, '60s and '70s. Oldies that old people could dance to. Or at least shuffle to. Sometimes we would play something that would send the seniors clamoring for their nitro pills. I'll never forget the time we threw "Expressway to Your Heart" into the mix at a Holy Name Society Valentine's Day dance. I'm sure there were a few Depends that needed changing after that. From the looks on their faces, you would have thought we were playing Ozzy Osbourne or Metallica or something. Of course, it never failed, the geezers would arrive early, as we were setting up, and even though they had the pick of the whole place for seating, they would place themselves right next to the speakers. So you do the math: old person + seat next to speaker x live music = old person complaining that the music is too loud.

At the Christmas party we played every year for the same Holy Name Society (Oh, yeah, we got the big jobs) there was one guy who always came up and requested "Jingle Bells" in Italian. I don't speak Italian. For the couple Italian songs we did, I had the lyrics written out phonetically, like "Vo-La-Ray...Wo wo. Con-Tar-Ray...wo wo wo wo..." So this old guy would get on the mike and sing "Jingle Bells" in Italian. People in the crowd began holding up their lighters and swaying. It was awesome.

Okay, maybe not.

Truth is, we didn't just play to the geriatric crowd. We actually became very popular in South Philly for our serenades. Lately, the tradition of serenades has kind of waned, but back then, we were the serenade band. We played dozens of them. What is a serenade? Well, for those of you not Italian from South Philly, a serenade takes place the night before a wedding, when the groom hires a band to play for the bride at her home. It would become a huge block party, the bride's family serving scallopine, beer and cannolis, streets getting blocked off, people getting drunk. It was a blast. We would have the guests, neighbors, and passersby dancing to "Hang on Sloopy," "Twist and Shout," and "The Mummer's Strut." We had to know that last one or we would be blackballed from ever playing in South Philadelphia again.

We had a regular playlist we would try to stick to, because it worked well. In that playlist was nestled a song called, "If you wanna be happy." If you're not familiar with it, the lyrics went something like, "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife, so from my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you." It goes on like that through the whole song. Sure, not the most PC tune to hit the airwaves, but a fun song that people generally liked and danced to. Except at this one wedding where the bride looked like a five foot bowling ball with the face of Curly from the Three Stooges. I remember singing the song and looking out over the crowd. You might have thought I was stomping on a puppy's head while singing. It was as if they all were very aware that the bride was as ugly as a donkey's ass, and we were making fun of her. It was uncomfortable, but we pressed on...singing "Don't let your friends say you have no taste, go ahead and marry her anyway..."

We didn't make a whole lot of money, but we had a great time playing. That's what music has always been for me. Fun. Even if it meant scaring a few octogenarians along the way. Hell, they needed to lighten up anyways.

I miss those days of singing with the band. It was a great outlet for my wannabe singer personae. Nowadays, I get my kicks singing out loud in the car or the occasional karaoke night. The guys from the band are all a bit older now, some in their 60s, just like the people we used to play for. But then again, so are the Rolling Stones. Paul McCartney knows what it's like when he's 64. And The Who are very far from Teenage Wasteland. Okay, I know how ridiculous it is comparing PDQ to The Who. I doubt if Pete Townsend ever windmilled in front of a bunch of blue hairs in a church basement. Or Mick ever pursed his lips in front of the home of a human wrecking ball the night before her wedding. But a reunion would be most welcome. I know my brothers would be into it. I haven't talked to the other guys, but who knows. You may soon be reading about a PDQ jam session, I hope.

In the mean time, those old people will just have to complain about something other than "Runaround Sue" being too loud while trying to gum their baked rigatoni at the St. Patty's Day Social.

Rock on, PDQ, wherever they are now.