The following outtakes are from the book Please Kill Me from 1996 by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain.
They deal with Felix Pappalardi's production efforts for the punk-rock band The Dead Boys...

Cheetah Chrome [a Dead Boy]: Lou Reed wanted to fucking produce the album but the other guys were scared to death of him. So they got Felix Pappalardi, who clearly did not know what the fuck to do with the Dead Boys. He produced Cream, so I figured if this guy can go back and listen to some Cream records. . . because he just didn't understand what I wanted, which was basiscally a half stack of Marshalls.

Gyda Gash [bass player for The Transistors]: During the recording of the second Dead Boys albumin Miami, Cheetah was out of his mind. I really didn't understand, because I wasn't involved in the creative process, but Cheetah was getting way drunk and just crying. He'd be on the phone to James Williamson from the Stooges, like, 'Please, will you come here and rescue this album? They're destroying the Dead Boys!' I don't know what James Williamson thought of this; I don't even know how the fuck Cheetah got his number. But at two o'clock in the morning, from a pay phone on some boulevard in Miami, Cheetah would be on the phone to James Williamson, begging him to come to Miami.

Jeff Magnum [bass player in the Dead Boys]: We had a big listening party at the Criteria studios. Felix was wearing this suit that had marijuana leaves all over it that he called his 'listening party suit'. It was just the goofiest suit I had ever seen in my life. Hopefully he was buried in it. I'm pretending that he was, in my own mind.

Oh, the record was awful. No bass, and you couldn't hear the guitars. That's how he got back at Cheetah, he neutered him, just didn't put any electric guitar in there at all. And the recording just didn't sound very loud at all.

I screamed in Felix's face because nobody else was going to. I was pissed that I couldn't hear my bass, that's all I wanted to hear was bass, bass, bass.

Things shouldn't have been so dramatic all the goddamn time about the tiniest little insignificant little speck stupid thing, but when you're high and drunk everything gets enlarged and enhanced and you know, it becomes, I'M GONNA KILL YOU.

Thanx to Kimmo Kangas for contributing this article.

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