A column by G. Brown in the Denver Post of Friday, 17 November 1995 =================================================================== I remember going to see the Blasters at the now-defunct Rainbow Music Hall in 1985 and being more enamored of the opening act, San Diego's Beat Farmers. They were a stomping bar band with an honest, vigorous sound and likable country-rock tunes. And when the energy level started flagging, they unleashed thier secret weapon--Country Dick Montana. Looking like a perverted Wild Bill Hickok, Montana staggered out from behind his drum kit to croak such odes as "Happy Boy" and "Big Rock Candy Mountain," all the while balancing a cup of beer in his cowboy hat before dumping the whole thing over his head and the first few rows. He then displayed a talent for terrorizing listeners ("You're scum!") while the band provided kazoo/whistling/gargling solos. For a finale, he staggered into the audience for an exhibition of crowd control: "No touching my butt!" I was impressed. With the zeal of the newly converted, I met the new cult figure following the set. "It's better in a bar," Montana said. "We can play more dirty songs." Radio never played the Beat Farmers' records at a national level, and that's why last week's news ran as a footnote in the media--Country Dick Montana, nee Daniel Monty McClain, collapsed and died on stage in Whistler, British Columbia, in front of a sellout crowd. The cause of death was an apparent heart attack. He was 40. The Beat Farmers developed a rabidly loyal following in Colorado, and Montana's cheerful vulgarity was a durable legend. The quartet's resident wild man was given to displaying his politically incorrect talents during uncensored inebriated interludes. He came to life croaking his show-stopping manifestos "King of Sleaze" and "I'm Getting Drunk With or Without You." At a rowdy appearance at the Hi-Lo in 1986, he showered the front rows with Budweiser during his open-beer-bottle-juggling routine and sat in the middle of the dance floor to hold a campfire-style singalong. At the Boulder Theater a few years later, he proffered the middle-finger salute, suppressed an urge to attack a heckler and fell off the table he was dancing on, nearly breaking his thick skull. If Montana's rambunctious shenanigans were killing his few remaining brain cells, the boisterous crowds didn't seem to care. When I last interviewed Montana a year ago, the gruff-voiced drummer/vocalist was recuperating in a midmorning bubble bath. It had been four years sinced the Beat Farmers' last album--Montana was diagnosed with throat cancer, which spread into his lymph nodes and thrreatened the loss of his vocal chords. Doctors had declared him cancer-free after three operations. How had he won the battle? "Zen belligerence," he revealed. "It was mostly maintaining a stage of ignorance and not worrying about it too much." He showed me his entry in the Beat Farmers Almanac: "Fears death by severely hysterical masterbatory convultions (sic) and pre-mature aftershock." Montana was back in top basso profundo form with a trio of hardcore drinking songs--a "swillogy," he said, hailing "Baby's Liquored Up," "Gettin' Drunk" and "Are You Drinking With Me Jesus?" as "good family entertainment." "I'm not real good at moderation," he admitted. "I'm just barreling along at my regular pace. It seems like I have to work a little harder, I get fatigued more quickly. But nobody's mentioned that I seem any different, unless they're raggin' on me. It's like telling me not to hit the drums so hard--I can't help it!" The Beat Farmers were on tour in support of their latest release "Manifold," with Montana leading his multitudes in setting house bar records. His new song was "Beer Ain't Drinkin," co-written with Mojo Nixon: "Don't eat the cans kids. Whew-wee! I can drunk you all outta the table...You were never my friends...I'm blurring at you not wid you!...What's all this wet gunk I'm sittin' in...Let's go to what's her name's house...I'll drive--where's my pants?" He had recently completed a solo album called "The Devil Lied to Me," which should be released next year. To paraphrase his adaptation of Kenny Rogers' "Lucille": You picked a real bitchin' time to leave us, Country Dick. =============================================================================== | | | Ian Baker | | Mission Research Corporation/ASTER Division | | P.O. Box 466 | | Fort Collins, Colorado 80522-0466 | | (970)282-4400 ext.25 | | (970)282-9444 (fax) | | baker@aster.com | | | ===============================================================================