David Thomas, who began his career as a writer and columnist for Cleveland, Ohio’s weekly magazine The Scene in the early 70s under the name Crocus Behemoth, was a true colossus of the underground whose work pre-empted both punk and post punk and never really stopped evolving. Throughout a brief stint with the legendary proto punk outfit Rocket From The Tombs, 18 studio albums with Pere Ubu, many live recordings, solo albums, releases with The Wooden Birds and The Pedestrians and with his ‘folk music from the future’ trio DT And Two Pale Boys, Thomas’ restless creativity exhibited many different aspects, including the classic outright pop Americana of Cloudland and Worlds In Collision. The only original member to continue right up until 2023’s Trouble On Big Beat Street, Thomas’ repeated reinventions of Ubu’s sound, and the amazing work he did remixing and remastering later albums such as The Tenement Year and Lady From Shanghai, which go far beyond what is usually implied by those terms, saw that his continued explorations in the ‘Avant Garage’ were always more than worthy of continuing under the band’s name. Pere Ubu (and Two Pale Boys) were also incredible live acts, and the many times I personally saw them play have left me with memories of at least three shows, all entirely different, that are amongst the greatest live performances I ever witnessed.
Writing about Pere Ubu for tQ in January 2021, I suggested: “For the uninitiated, they are the science-fiction Stooges, an alternative reality radiation-mutated Talking Heads playing the folk music of the open American interstate highways and post-industrial wastelands.” For anyone unknowing or unsure of the scale of Thomas’ influence on other artists, I would suggest listening now to the first single ’30 Seconds Over Tokyo/ Heart Of Darkness’, and consider how prescient it still sounds. ‘New Rose’ by The Damned is often said to be the first punk single, but Ubu’s debut preceded that by almost a year, and the first releases by Joy Division, Wire, Magazine and PiL by considerably more than that. Listening to it today after I first heard the news early this morning, ‘Heart Of Darkness’ remains the absolute essence of existential terror set to the hypnotic chug of a locomotive train-like beat: “Maybe I’m nothing but a shadow on the wall / Maybe love’s a tomb where you dance at night / Maybe sanctuary is an electric light”. Whether Joy Division were influenced directly by this track, or whether they were simply translating their own post-industrial wasteland into similarly propulsive and estranged sounds, it’s hard to say, but the similarities are impossible not to notice.
For most other bands, this would be a high that could never be repeated, but although the original idea was to release some material in extremely limited form and then fade away, Ubu ended up being one of the longest running projects in alternative music, and justifiably so. After their first (brief) hiatus in 1979, Red Krayola guitarist Mayo Thompson joined a reformed Ubu for The Art Of Walking in 1980. Thomas and Thompson had already worked together on the 1979 Red Crayola album Soldier Talk, and the latter was allegedly recruited full-time when Thomas and Ubu’s original synthesiser player Allen Ravenstine were watching a Talking Heads show and Thomas turned to Ravenstine and said: “We were better than these guys.” Ravenstine turned to Thomas and said: “Mayo Thompson”, so they gave him a call. Later incarnations saw the involvement of more than 20 musicians, including long-running bassist Michele Temple and Ravenstine’s worthy successor on theremin and modular synth, Robert Wheeler, who is also (entirely aptly given his expert manipulation of electricity) Thomas Edison’s great-great grandnephew.
I personally didn’t see them until they played London’s Astoria 2 in 1995 and so can only imagine the shock of seeing them the first time they appeared in the UK at Rafters nightclub in Manchester on April 28, 1978, with an imposing Thomas banging a sheet of metal with a hammer and Ravenstine’s analog synths chattering independently of the rest of the band like a swarm of alien insects. Supposedly members of the newly formed Joy Division were present at the show. I came in late to the Astoria show, but was so blown away that I would then go and see them whenever I could. When I think of my favourite of their shows, it’s almost like I’m recalling three different bands. There’s the pure pop Americana of a show like Bush Hall in 2013, with Thomas at the top of his game, being charming, telling jokes and Temple’s bass driving it all underneath. Or the darker rock Americana of the expanded ‘Grand Guignol’ I witnessed performed with a nine-piece band at The Borderline in spring 2018. Or the return of original guitarist Tom Herman in 2016/17, with Wheeler’s incendiary synths and Thomas delivering a fiery performance despite having only recently begun to perform seated.
Then there was the time Thomas and Two Pale Boys took over from The Tiger Lillies in the London production of the musical Shockheaded Peter for 11 weeks in 2002. It made perfect sense to me that Thomas fitted so well into the role of the monster beneath the floorboards, clad in his trademark red butcher’s apron, since he had already made the part of the monster his own, some 16 years earlier, with the solo album (with Ravenstine, percussionist Daved Hild and cellist Garo Yellin) Monster Walks The Winter Lake – reputedly Thomas’ favourite recording. It seems the ‘monster’ aspect of Thomas’ personality was not entirely limited to those performances or that album, however. He was famously difficult to work with and many a support band, sound engineer, and even members of his own bands, will attest to that fact. In some ways, the grumpy old coot driven by an angry energy was likely a role he found himself playing, and there are undoubtedly similarities with The Fall’s Mark E. Smith, although Thomas perhaps evinced more respect for the Black blues music that he drew from than Smith did.
For me as a fan and also critic of the band, who met Thomas many times, these comments are worthy of mention but pale in significance when considered against his enormously creative recorded and live work. At least Ubu fans never had to see him in a MAGA hat (like John Lydon) or making xenophobic comments like Morrissey. Out of the many times I met him, several did not go so well. One time though, I had travelled from London to Bristol to see Two Pale Boys play at The Cube. I couldn’t get the night off work, so I called in from a telephone box (pre-mobile days) and lied to them that I was ill. After the show, I spoke to Thomas and his manager at the time Graham Dowdall (aka Dids and Gagarin), who was also the drummer of the fabulous Ludus at one time, and who passed away in 2024. I’d asked Thomas about The Residents’ guitarist Snakefinger (Philip Lithman), from whose band Thomas had poached Eric Drew Feldman. Thomas smiled, thinking of him and said: “I know people usually speak well of the dead, like it’s just a given, but he really was a great guy.”
During lockdown up until relatively recently, Thomas presented ‘DPK (Datapanik) TV’ from his studio and home in Hove with his manager and partner, Kiersty Boon, who remains in charge of his affairs and legacy. According to Ubu Projex, Thomas and his band had been recording a new album which he knew was to be his last. The album is intended to be finished and released at some point in the near future. Thomas’ autobiography was also close to being finished and will also see release. Tapes from live shows will continue to be catalogued and added to their Bandcamp page and the Patreon community will continue to exist in accordance to his wishes. I know I won’t be the only fan who wants to simply say: “David, thanks for all the tunes.”
