Out and About in the East Village

In this weekly feature, East Village-based photographer James Maher provides us with a quick snapshot of someone who lives and/or works in the East Village.



By James Maher

Name: Danny Lama
Occupation: Singer / Songwriter
Location: 5th and A.
Time: 5:45 on Friday, May 30.

I’m a songwriter. I guess the way to label my music is rock, post-punk, punk. I played reggae and I played Doo-wop. I guess I’m a blues-rock player by trade.

I was born in Manhattan — in Harlem. We lived on Amsterdam Avenue but when that became the wild west we moved up to the Bronx. I was in Catholic grammar school — I’m surprised I never got thrown out. I guess it was because my parents had to pay tuition. They thought of me as the devil worshipping, cult leader, Charles Manson junior. I could not take to that God-according-to-them stuff.

The nuns once called my mother in and said, “Danny’s doing this terrible thing, he’s reading this Hunter Thompson 'Hell’s Angels' book, it’s pornographic.” And my mother said in her Irish accent that was thicker than the nuns, “That book is on The New York Times bestseller list. You should be proud. None of your readings are up to his standards. You can’t teach him to read like that. You should be thankful. A year ago he was reading comic books and now he’s reading Hunter Thompson. We pay you good money so shut up and leave his reading habits alone.” Isn’t that cool?

My mother was a nurse from Ireland. She let me go to the Fillmore East four years before anybody else. The Fillmore East brought me to this neighborhood. The music and the freedom was the thing that drew me here. My father was 20 years older than my mother. He was from a different generation. My mother used to let me go to the early shows at the Fillmore as long as I was back home in the Bronx by midnight before my father got home from work. I lost my virginity in this neighborhood. I got picked up by a woman down here — she took me back to her house on 9th street and I couldn’t leave this neighborhood once the sun went down because you’d hear screaming on the streets at night.

At the Fillmore I saw Eric Clapton, Humble Pie, Lee Michaels, Cactus. And I had tickets for the last week in ‘71 that they closed, but I got in trouble with the nuns. After that there was the Academy of Music on 14th street, which later became known as the Palladium.

Senior year of high school and freshman year of college, I was already reading poetry and getting the craft of songwriting down. The real arty punk movement was in the 70s. I was always in the neighborhood. There was a drummer in The Cramps that lived here and one thing led to another. I used to roadie at CBGBs from 75-79. I was a roadie for Talking Heads and Television. I was a kid and so I would roadie for them to get in.

I moved here officially in ‘81 or ‘82. I’ve lived in the same apartment for about 31 years. Back then I was working for a printer and then I was a ghostwriter for a jingle house, in advertising on Madison Avenue. They were just using my ideas and riffs. And then I got picked to be in a music school for the recording industry and that led to an internship, where I became a publicist for Arista Records. I worked for a publicity director for R&B and Jazz for Arista. And then I worked in retail and wholesale records because of my record collection and my knowledge of all that stuff.

In the early days I was in a band called Mona Rock, nobody will remember that, Thorns Grass, Maloney’s Touch, Espionage, The Good Life, Moving Up, Bad Politics — we were one of the house bands along with the Beastie Boys and Hi Sheriffs of Blue at a venue on the corner of A and 7th. That lasted from '81 to '85. Then there was Convulsion Cabaret in ’89. James Chance played keyboard. The guy who just died, Ray Manzarek, he played with us.

I’ll give you a little history as we’re walking. This building here on 3rd and A ... used to be a bunch of row houses of the same size. There was a woman in there who used to type up my manuscripts for poetry and lyrics. This was in the 80s and she used to run a business typing for a dollar a sheet for prose writing, poetry, song lyrics. She was very good with the poetry and the spacing. She had a great idea of the cadence and the rhythm of it without even hearing it. I really liked the way she did it. Anyway, her landlord went into the basement with a jackhammer and did a number on the main support beam. It crippled the building.

This other building around here was known as the toilet. It was actually written about in many books and novels. The toilet referred to a brand of heroin that was sold out of there. There were lines every weekday morning sometimes. Lines from the building to the corner. People in business suits on the way to work in Wall Street, waiting to buy it. It was then taken over by homesteaders. A bunch of the other surrounding buildings belonged to homesteaders as well. I used to go on the roofs around here to practice shooting guns. It was fucking crazy around here for awhile.

James Maher is a fine art and studio photographer based in the East Village. Find his website here.