Wolfman in the West Village: A Dr. Feelgood Mystery

As you might remember from this post, I recently sat down to watch Julien Temple’s 2010 documentary, “Oil City Confidential,” which delves into the story of proto-punk pub rock legends, Dr. Feelgood, who came of age in the unspeakably drab early 70’s, just prior to the cultural detonation of punk rock. Somewhat star-crossed by bad timing, Dr. Feelgood never seemed to make much of an impression here in the States and had some of their own (considerable) thunder stolen in their homeland by the comparative upstarts of British Punk, many of who cribbed liberally from Dr. Feelgood’s trailblazing antics.

Personally speaking, while I’d certainly read about Dr. Feelgood, given their connections to so-called “pub rock,” I lazily assumed they trod a similar road as artists like Dave Edmunds, Brinsley Schwarz and Ian Dury & the Blockheads. While there’s nothing wrong with those bands, they never struck me as especially exciting or incendiary. Well, not so with Dr. Feelgood. Fueled by vocalist Lee Brilleaux’s imposing gruffness and bug-eyed Wilko Johnson’s inimitable, slashing guitar theatrics, Dr. Feelgood’s high octane brand of booze-&-amphetamine-fueled R&B was a direct and indelible influence on later bands like The Jam, The Stranglers and Gang of Four. Put simply, they foocking rocked.

Here’s the trailer for the film….

Cool, right? I highly recommend it.

In any case, matching the rollicking nature of their music, the strong-willed characters in the band’s ranks didn’t always see eye-to-eye, finding secret weapon Wilko Johnson abandoning ship in 1977. Dr. Feelgood soldiered on without him, although they arguably never matched the musical volatility of that first incarnation of the band.

Vocalist Lee Brilleaux, meanwhile, was diagnosed with cancer in the early `90’s, and succumbed to his illness in 1994, effectively putting an end to the band.

As I was watching the film, however, a fleeting segment flashed on the screen wherein it was suggested that a plaque was erected in Brilleaux’s memory right here in New York City. It was a split-second scene, but I fully recognized the location, and immediately felt compelled to investigate.

The next morning, I strode up Greenwhich Avenue on a hunch, ending up at the little park in Jackson Square (where Greenwich intersects with West 13th Street at 8th Avenue). Sure enough, affixed to a bench on the northernmost corner of the park was Lee’s plaque. Here it is….

Having been entirely smitten by the music and the story of Dr. Feelgood (and having giddily snatched up a copy of their explosive debut album, Down By The Jetty at Rough Trade), I am entirely all for a plaque memorializing this amazing performer and his largely under-praised ensemble, but I have one burning question:

Why is it in Jackson Square?

I know Brilleaux had married an American woman, but by all accounts and reports on the `Net, it seems Brilleaux lived and died on his native soil of Essex, England (not far from the band’s stomping grounds of Canvey Island). While he toured the world with various incarnations of Dr. Feelgood, I could find no mention of the singer ever living in New York City, let alone the leafy byways of the West Village.

And not only is it in Jackson Square, but it is the only plaque dedication in the park, and seemingly in a very deliberate, specific location. Under normal circumstances, one might assume that this particular bench had some significance for the departed, although it seems the departed, in this case, had no traceable connection to this tiny plot of real estate.

Working on another hunch, I strolled just a few yards back down Greenwhich Avenue to an address just across Jane Street called Tea & Sympathy. Fittingly billing itself as “a quintessential corner of England in the heart of Greenwich Village,” Tea & Sympathy is a long-held haven for British ex-pats and Anglophiles yearning for a taste of ol’ Blighty. I figured, given the uber-Britishness of Lee Brilleaux and Dr. Feelgood, if anyone would know if Brilleaux had any palpable roots or reason to be memorialized just down the road in Jackson Square, they would know.

Given that not everyone is as smitten by obscure rock ’n’ roll trivia as I am, the young man behind the counter at Tea & Sympathy wasn’t especially enthused about my tangled line of questioning, but quickly fetched the shop’s endearingly gregarious owner Nicky.

Despite being caught off-guard in the middle of a busy morning, Nicky gamely listened to me clumsily unspool my yarn. Unfortunately, while she recognized the names of both Dr. Feelgood and Lee Brilleaux, she was as stumped as I am as to why he’s memorialized in Jackson Square. That said, she suggested asking an organization called, fittingly enough, the Jackson Square Alliance, a community group dedicated to improving the quality of life in and around said park. (That was a great idea, but I couldn’t seem to find an e-mail address for the J.S.A on their website).

Grasping at another hunch, I walked a couple of blocks to the west to Myers of Keswick, another purveyor of British goodies and groceries, … strangely in the same neighborhood (the competition between these two shops must be pretty fierce). While I love this shop, the young lady behind the counter barely looked old enough to know what Dr. Feelgood by Motley Crue was, let alone a comparatively ancient British band from the early `70’s. I demurred from bugging her with my sleuthing, and bought a can of grape-flavored Vimto.

So, there it lies. I am still in the dark as to why the great Lee Brilleaux of Dr. Feelgood is memorialized in a relatively tiny park in the West Village of Manhattan in New York City.

But, I’m still game to find out.

ADDENDUM: My friend and fellow bloggy-type, Tim B. of Stupefaction solved the riddle. Find the answer by clicking here. Candidly, I'm sorta bummed to know the answer ... I love a good, unsolved mystery.

Incidentally, storied former Dr. Feelgood guitarist Wilko Johnson himself was diagnosed with cancer like his fallen bandmate. Julien Temple again raised his camera to document Wilko’s endeavor to live life to its fullest with a cancer diagnosis. That film is coming soon…. 

Comments

[Grahame]

There is a possible NYC connection between the Feelgoods and the CBGB scene as quoted here:
https://books.google.com/books?id=29hwkUOFO9QC&pg=PA114&lpg=PA114&dq=Clem+Burke+Dr+Feelgood&source=bl&ots=a8Jsmy1-A8&sig=Zo8dV9WguMbXI4ivnoL0cU4JoKo&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CCkQ6AEwAmoVChMIwuLRpZrRyAIVE9djCh2gKgAr#v=onepage&q=Clem%20Burke%20Dr%20Feelgood&f=false

For no good reason really, I've always enjoyed the fact that everyone in the band but Lee was called John but nobody went by that name; Wilko Johnson (real name John Wilkinson) The Big Figure (real name John Martin) and Sparko (real name John Sparks).

[DCatBillsdotcom]

Superb post!

I, too, noticed that the plaque was the only one in the park.

I sent a photo of the plaque to my good friend whom I knew would be hip to Dr. Feelgood.

Within a minute, back comes a link to tour post. A fine example of modern technology working well.

I look forward to reading more of your posts, though you set a high bar with this one: interesting, mysterious, unexpected, and extremely witty.

Thank you.