Rising out of the misplaced Pills, Gentlemen Afterdark (GAD) were always misunderstood—even by Muhammad Ali. Backstage at the Santa Monica Civic, the gentle giant stood poised in a dapper suit, was introduced to frontman Brian Smith, then leaned to his daughter and said, “It’s Boy George.”
Months earlier, People had pegged the band as future stars, running a full-page photo of them tying Alice Cooper to a saguaro. Cooper had entered their world for real. Being the Coop, he understood the band’s public misunderstanding and loved it. He dug their unpredictable live shows—venues smelling of bedlam and booze, onstage scenes exploding and crashing. Cooper and his songwriting partner, guitar hero Dick Wagner, produced their ’83 self-titled EP. Songs like “Open the Door” and “No Flowers” picked up airplay at a few rock stations around the country, with no promo budget or label behind them.
GAD were young, kohl-eyed, suckers for androgynous sartorial choices. Picture a chaos of pop romanticism, ’70s glam, singsong choruses and bittersweet violins. What followed was a long, beautiful, ugly churn—shows, recording sessions, a couple tender-aged addictions, and a steady unraveling. Drummers and bass players changed, Jon Norwood in for Winston Watson, Kevin Pate in for Fred Cross, a brother replaced a brother, guitarist Stuart Smith for violinist Barry Smith, the band reshaping itself into versions that kept the promise alive. They landed on bills traversing the musical map, from Los Lobos and X to Culture Club and New Order. They played every venue in Arizona and L.A., more than once. What made them a killer rock ’n’ roll band made them unfit for a normal life. How very rock ’n’ roll. They starved together for it. The songs kept pace, detailing the world around them.
By the time they traded Phoenix for Los Angeles for good, the meetings and almosts hit hard. Producer Jimmy Ienner (Raspberries, Kiss, Dirty Dancing) fixated on the band, filling Beverly Hills hotel rooms with talk of “U2 massive,” saying they had hits—“I Go,” “Celebrate Youth,” “Only in You,” “Stories”—and needed one more, always one more. In ’89, a demo deal with A&M had the quintet—Smith, guitarist Robin Johnson, Stuart Smith, Pate, and Norwood—honing songs like “Promises.” Label head Jimmy Iovine called them hits—don’t shop them, get ready. It felt like an arrival. But Iovine left for Europe, then on to build a hip-hop empire. Momentum bled out—the center didn’t hold, and by late ’90 GAD splintered—some back in Tucson, eight years gone, a lifetime of stories. Further adventures: Pate, Norwood, and Brian Smith cobbled together Beat Angels; Stuart Smith relocated to London and formed Super J. Lounge; Robin Johnson landed in Maryanne.
– Liner notes by Brian Jabas Smith
