town for a three-game set with Atlanta starting Friday. Will Clark was nowhere to be found by four fifteen, but he finally showed up at around five o’clock. He had this really weird look on his face. I mean, not zany or quirky or anything, just plain weird, like he was on a weird drug of some sort; and this would not have shocked me because it seemed like everybody I had met in San Jose was on some sort of drug.
I remember being fairly alarmed at the guy’s actions when I saw him for the first time . . . he just put a knot in my stomach, just very weird. At this point, I had five or six members of the air staff in the room. Laurie Roberts who just loved the Giants, Ass Kisser, Carmine, Miss Piggy, and Lamont, the morning guy who had replaced Perry Stone.
“Hey, sorry I’m late, man. I got so lost!” he almost was yelling,
“No problem . . . we’re live in forty-five seconds. Here are your
-Chapter 21 Living on The Fault Line
“There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air”
Excerpt from the new book from Bob “the Blade Robinson
“There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air”
You are properly qualified to do afternoon drive at the rock station if you were out all night with the rock stars and crawled to station the next day. This day in early September, I felt like crap because Tim, Carmine and I were out with Eric Martin of Mr. Big and his wife the night before. His wife was young and beautiful and here’s the bonus, she was friends with the 49’ers cheerleaders and brought two of them along. Of course, we were at Denny’s. It was three in the morning. I had finally had enough of the dudes in the section in front of us staring and making facial expressions at the girls at our table.
I tilted my head up obviously towards them as if to say . . . .
“Keep it up and I’ll kick your ass.”
This big redneck looking dude with his mullet (people still wore them
in 1989) stood up from his booth glaring directly at me, and I stood up and glared back. He made a move towards my booth, and I sat
down as quick as I could. That move saved my butt I believe. He was too drunk, and I wasn’t drunk enough.
Eric Martin of Mr. Big 1989
Eric called me on the air the next day about the previous night’s escapade and said the next time he went out with me he’d bring the 49’ers linebackers instead of the cheerleaders if I was going
to act that way.
Did they have Rohypnol in the eighties? Stonewall Jackson and I went to downtown Wilmington one night in the fall of 1981 to have drinks on the riverfront at Gabriel’s, the bar inside the Wilmington Hilton. That is all I recall until I woke up beside a girl whose name I do not remember and possibly never even knew. She was the bartender, I knew that at least. I vaguely remember waking up in the bar for a moment, and it must have been closing time, because Stonewall was rattling the metal chain curtain that falls when businesses close.
Paul “Stonewall” Jackson broadcasting live from the Blade head-shaving in October 1992.
“Let me out! Let me out!” He was totally in some other world, both his fists shaking that chain curtain. He was a big hairy Sasquatch of a man, and I thought briefly how that chain curtain stood no chance against him before I slipped back into unconsciousness.
“Just finished your book, great read. Unflinching look at a life in radio. As high school student to fatherhood, I listened to WRDU and enjoyed all the years you guys gave us.” – Paul Furr
Do I start with the midget strippers? Or do I start with the John Entwhistle interview?
I was asked this question during the question portion of my book signing at the Barnes and Noble in Cary, NC Wednesday night the 9th of January. That is possibly the easiest question I was asked.
Thee Dollhouse of Raleigh had signed up “Little Sisters”, twin midget strippers, for a weekend in January in 2005 and the entire weekend sold out weeks in advance! I nailed down an interview with the two and they came by to talk in person the Friday before their first show.
The reason why the interview went so horribly was because they had nothing to say. This is the air check.
Twin Midget Strippers Interview January 2005
The other really bad interview was with John Entwhistle of The Who no less, may he rest in peace. I had no idea that Entwhistle was legally deaf. The interview was by phone and the poor guy couldn't hear my questions very well so it was a five minute interview of…
Two of the greatest-worst interviews of 20+ years of rock radio.
David Menconi of the News & Observer and I will be doing live readings of our new books this Wednesday night in Cary at Barnes & Noble at 7pm. David’s book was finished and published in September of 2012.
My book is an autobiography so the book has a few different directions to follow. Having been brought up in the military for the first 18 years of my life meant moving all over the world, and being a rock radio air personality for 25-plus years brings it’s share of stories also.
Throw in scizophrenia and a mysterious illness and early death of my father.
Alice Cooper 1992
Hardbacks and softcovers will be available, personally signed. A question and answer period will follow the reading.
A preview of the new book from Bob “the Blade” Robinson.
I was the boring one. The rest of these housemates were one hundred percent shits and giggles. Things happened. Things happen at that age when you are just finding out how the world works. I ended up in bed one night—and I do not know how—with some fourteen-year-old girl. She made it clear she wanted nothing to happen, so nothing did. I think I was too afraid anyway. I have no idea how a fourteen-year-old got to that house and ended up spending the night with me, but at nineteen years of age, I was not asking questions or looking for anyone’s life story. At fourteen, she didn’t have much of a life story anyway.
That was the summer I first set foot in a rock nightclub. All the bikes were parked side by side outside the main entrance in front of the big club in town called “The Cellar”. My roommates and I walked in, the worn-out door attendant carded us before we walked down that sticky carpeted hallway and let me tell you it is a proud moment when you are carded for the first time. You never forget it. Inside, the disco balls were rotating, smoke was everywhere, the girls were walking around in high heels with skirts up to their necks; all of them had lit cigarettes in their hands. The beginning of Rod Stewart’s “Hot Legs” starting up as I walked in is a memory that I will never forget. Rod Stewart was in his prime in the seventies. I look back and realize how lucky I am to have grown up in that era. Think about it: “Hot Legs”, “Stay with Me”, “I Know (I’m Losing You)”, “Maggie May”. God bless Rod Stewart.