RIP David Gilbert 8/1/2001 - The Rockets

It’s 1979, nearly three years before the advent of MTV. Roy Orbison is hosting “The Midnight Special,” one of the few places a rock ’n’ roll band can get nationwide exposure. The group onstage behind Orbison is making its national TV debut. With tentative gestures and an outstretched arm, Orbison introduces the Rockets, Detroit’s best and hardest-working rock ’n’ roll band.

In a mess of tattered leather, mirror shades and unkempt hair, the six-piece band kicks in. They offer up an oil-stained rendition of their recent top-40 hit, “Oh Well.” the R&B-poor-boy-becomes-a-rock star anthem.

The band is honed. It has that groove, that thing that can’t be simulated or rehearsed; a togetherness that can only result when a band tours together, lives together, endures internal fights and sees endless all-night parties together. It’s the sound of a band that literally eats out of each other’s pockets. The Rockets are seasoned, having done major tours with Kiss, ZZ Top, Bob Seger and the Who, among others. By all accounts, the Rockets are ready. They are going to be huge. After all, they’ve done the work.

Johnny “Bee” Badanjek and guitarist Jimmy McCarty bring grizzled pedigree and credibility: their near-legendary lineage that started with Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels.

What’s more, girls love Dave Gilbert, the band’s singer. Gilbert is the complete rock ’n’ roll front man, and he’s desperately pretty. He’s got a Jagger-esque maw and a perfectly golden mane of shoulder-length locks. He’s lithesome, and moves like a cross between a young Robert Plant and a skinny-era Jim Morrison. He makes young boys yearn for rock stardom — and he provokes the carnal conflict that puts butterflies under the skirts of teenage girls.

Gilbert’s street-heavy baritone came of age singing for beer money in Detroit bars when he was far too young to be anywhere near them, a voice born, oddly, of parents who are both deaf and mute. It is the kind of voice that sounds like it is dying to get out, to be felt; equal parts hey-look-at-me desperation and rock ’n’ roll libido.

“The Midnight Special” reveals a band that has it in spades.

Wolfman Jack ushers the Rockets on for a second tune, a rousing rendition of “Desire,” the hooky pop-blues single off the band’s just-released third major-label album, No Ballads. The song is going lengths to further the band’s national rep and is getting great response on radio, receiving heavy spins at FM powerhouses in Texas, Arizona, Florida, California and, seemingly, every hour in the band’s hometown.

But potential is a catalyst for failure more often than success. The rock ’n’ roll heap is littered with never-wases, almost-wases, and coulda/shoulda beens. Validation is so fleeting. The Rockets, and in particular, the group’s enigmatic front man Dave Gilbert, reaffirm this lore.

Jethro Bodeen wrote:Don't remember him/them except the bands name. Watching the video- it would appear that their personal and style were 10 years too late. Kind of an "Arowsmith" thing going and it had already been done. Also, Ted Nugent already "owned" the long haired rocker from Detroit personna. So there wasn't much to sell them with. And if Gilbert was a "crazy" as suggested, in reality, record company and other media executives don't put-up with up and comers that aren't reliable. Once an artist or band is a proven money maker, they'll put up with drugs, drink and other non-sense to a degree but not forever. None the less- talented band- obviously. Too bad about your friend. A Casualty of the Rock and Roll dream. So many very talented people never make it to the top commercially.

LooseGoose wrote:David Gilbert

12/4/51-8/1/01 - 14 years ago today a good man died.
One of the best friends I ever had, a crazy man with a conflicted soul but incredible talent.

If you're of a certain age in Michigan you remember the Rockets.  Another band that was very popular
here but never really made it nationally.  They could sell out Pine Knob but not fill a bar 2 states away.

Rocket to the crypt 

It’s 1979, nearly three years before the advent of MTV. Roy Orbison is hosting “The Midnight Special,” one of the few places a rock ’n’ roll band can get nationwide exposure. The group onstage behind Orbison is making its national TV debut. With tentative gestures and an outstretched arm, Orbison introduces the Rockets, Detroit’s best and hardest-working rock ’n’ roll band.

In a mess of tattered leather, mirror shades and unkempt hair, the six-piece band kicks in. They offer up an oil-stained rendition of their recent top-40 hit, “Oh Well.” the R&B-poor-boy-becomes-a-rock star anthem.

The band is honed. It has that groove, that thing that can’t be simulated or rehearsed; a togetherness that can only result when a band tours together, lives together, endures internal fights and sees endless all-night parties together. It’s the sound of a band that literally eats out of each other’s pockets. The Rockets are seasoned, having done major tours with Kiss, ZZ Top, Bob Seger and the Who, among others. By all accounts, the Rockets are ready. They are going to be huge. After all, they’ve done the work.

Johnny “Bee” Badanjek and guitarist Jimmy McCarty bring grizzled pedigree and credibility: their near-legendary lineage that started with Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels.

What’s more, girls love Dave Gilbert, the band’s singer. Gilbert is the complete rock ’n’ roll front man, and he’s desperately pretty. He’s got a Jagger-esque maw and a perfectly golden mane of shoulder-length locks. He’s lithesome, and moves like a cross between a young Robert Plant and a skinny-era Jim Morrison. He makes young boys yearn for rock stardom — and he provokes the carnal conflict that puts butterflies under the skirts of teenage girls.

Gilbert’s street-heavy baritone came of age singing for beer money in Detroit bars when he was far too young to be anywhere near them, a voice born, oddly, of parents who are both deaf and mute. It is the kind of voice that sounds like it is dying to get out, to be felt; equal parts hey-look-at-me desperation and rock ’n’ roll libido.

“The Midnight Special” reveals a band that has it in spades.

Wolfman Jack ushers the Rockets on for a second tune, a rousing rendition of “Desire,” the hooky pop-blues single off the band’s just-released third major-label album, No Ballads. The song is going lengths to further the band’s national rep and is getting great response on radio, receiving heavy spins at FM powerhouses in Texas, Arizona, Florida, California and, seemingly, every hour in the band’s hometown.

But potential is a catalyst for failure more often than success. The rock ’n’ roll heap is littered with never-wases, almost-wases, and coulda/shoulda beens. Validation is so fleeting. The Rockets, and in particular, the group’s enigmatic front man Dave Gilbert, reaffirm this lore.

LooseGoose wrote:David Gilbert

12/4/51-8/1/01 - 14 years ago today a good man died.
One of the best friends I ever had, a crazy man with a conflicted soul but incredible talent.

If you're of a certain age in Michigan you remember the Rockets.  Another band that was very popular
here but never really made it nationally.  They could sell out Pine Knob but not fill a bar 2 states away.

Rocket to the crypt 

It’s 1979, nearly three years before the advent of MTV. Roy Orbison is hosting “The Midnight Special,” one of the few places a rock ’n’ roll band can get nationwide exposure. The group onstage behind Orbison is making its national TV debut. With tentative gestures and an outstretched arm, Orbison introduces the Rockets, Detroit’s best and hardest-working rock ’n’ roll band.

In a mess of tattered leather, mirror shades and unkempt hair, the six-piece band kicks in. They offer up an oil-stained rendition of their recent top-40 hit, “Oh Well.” the R&B-poor-boy-becomes-a-rock star anthem.

The band is honed. It has that groove, that thing that can’t be simulated or rehearsed; a togetherness that can only result when a band tours together, lives together, endures internal fights and sees endless all-night parties together. It’s the sound of a band that literally eats out of each other’s pockets. The Rockets are seasoned, having done major tours with Kiss, ZZ Top, Bob Seger and the Who, among others. By all accounts, the Rockets are ready. They are going to be huge. After all, they’ve done the work.

Johnny “Bee” Badanjek and guitarist Jimmy McCarty bring grizzled pedigree and credibility: their near-legendary lineage that started with Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels.

What’s more, girls love Dave Gilbert, the band’s singer. Gilbert is the complete rock ’n’ roll front man, and he’s desperately pretty. He’s got a Jagger-esque maw and a perfectly golden mane of shoulder-length locks. He’s lithesome, and moves like a cross between a young Robert Plant and a skinny-era Jim Morrison. He makes young boys yearn for rock stardom — and he provokes the carnal conflict that puts butterflies under the skirts of teenage girls.

Gilbert’s street-heavy baritone came of age singing for beer money in Detroit bars when he was far too young to be anywhere near them, a voice born, oddly, of parents who are both deaf and mute. It is the kind of voice that sounds like it is dying to get out, to be felt; equal parts hey-look-at-me desperation and rock ’n’ roll libido.

“The Midnight Special” reveals a band that has it in spades.

Wolfman Jack ushers the Rockets on for a second tune, a rousing rendition of “Desire,” the hooky pop-blues single off the band’s just-released third major-label album, No Ballads. The song is going lengths to further the band’s national rep and is getting great response on radio, receiving heavy spins at FM powerhouses in Texas, Arizona, Florida, California and, seemingly, every hour in the band’s hometown.

But potential is a catalyst for failure more often than success. The rock ’n’ roll heap is littered with never-wases, almost-wases, and coulda/shoulda beens. Validation is so fleeting. The Rockets, and in particular, the group’s enigmatic front man Dave Gilbert, reaffirm this lore.

S

Jethro Bodeen wrote:Don't remember him/them except the bands name. Watching the video- it would appear that their personal and style were 10 years too late. Kind of an "Arowsmith" thing going and it had already been done. Also, Ted Nugent already "owned" the long haired rocker from Detroit personna. So there wasn't much to sell them with. And if Gilbert was a "crazy" as suggested, in reality, record company and other media executives don't put-up with up and comers that aren't reliable. Once an artist or band is a proven money maker, they'll put up with drugs, drink and other non-sense to a degree but not forever. None the less- talented band- obviously. Too bad about your friend. A Casualty of the Rock and Roll dream. So many very talented people never make it to the top commercially.

Jethro Bodeen wrote:

Jethro Bodeen wrote:Don't remember him/them except the bands name. Watching the video- it would appear that their personal and style were 10 years too late. Kind of an "Arowsmith" thing going and it had already been done. Also, Ted Nugent already "owned" the long haired rocker from Detroit personna. So there wasn't much to sell them with. And if Gilbert was a "crazy" as suggested, in reality, record company and other media executives don't put-up with up and comers that aren't reliable. Once an artist or band is a proven money maker, they'll put up with drugs, drink and other non-sense to a degree but not forever. None the less- talented band- obviously. Too bad about your friend. A Casualty of the Rock and Roll dream. So many very talented people never make it to the top commercially.

I guess I do remember the guy now. Too bad. Lots of talent never makes it to the big time. Hell DWGS,your brother was as good as any heavy metal lead singer I ever saw and he only headlined the Salty Dog! Life is not fair, especially to the artist.