The Smithereens started with a simple idea - take a deep-rooted love of British Invasion pop (Beatles, Kinks, Who) and marry it to a modern lyrical consciousness. Singer/songwriter Pat DiNizio was trafficking in angst a decade before anyone had heard the word grunge, just as guitarist Jim Babjak found inventive ways of translating DiNizio's simple three-chord melodies into unforgettable rock anthems. And the Smithereens accomplished what almost none of those snooty New York band ever did - they had a string of hit records that sold well and were played on the radio all over the country.

Looking back, it seems hard to believe that the Smithereens were never interviewed in Jersey Beat before. They were the bedrock on which today's New Brunswick band scene was formed, bringing notoriety (and a steady draw) to the Court Tavern back in the years when the term "NJ band" was almost a joke.

If you've never heard the Smithereens, do yourself a favor and find a copy of Attack Of The Smithereens (Capitol,) a 1995 compilation that collects outtakes, demos, and live versions of the best of the band's original material along with a mind-warping collection of super-cool covers. Then go back and fill in the blanks: Especially For You, the band's debut LP, which launched the surprise radio hit "Blood And Roses" and got them on their way; Green Thoughts; and the majestic Smithereens 11 (described by the Trouser Press Record Guide as "terse, tuneful, and towering.") 1991's Blow Up is a bit of a letdown and while their one-shot album for RCA, A Date With The Smithereens, has its moments, it's not the place to start either.

Actually, the place to start with the Smithereens is by sitting down and talking to the 41-year old sage, figurehead, businessman, and songsmith who has guided the band throughout its long career, Pat DiNizio. I had to a chance to do just that over a Coke and a slice before the Smithereens' bravura performance at Cavestomp '97 in mid-October.

Q: I think the first question on the mind of myself and your fans is, what exactly is the status of the Smithereens?

Pat: The Smithereens are about to sign a deal with Velvel, and Velvel is about to work out something with BMG. So it's going to be an indie label with major distribution, but they'll be autonomous. It will almost be like the way Enigma was, except the people at Velvel have a lot more experience. At Enigma, they were flying by the seat of their pants most of the time and they were very lucky at a certain point, where they had us and Stryper and Poison and did very well. But they got too big, too fast, and they went under. I saw it coming. It was almost like they planned it.

Q: Didn't they give a million dollar contract to David Cassidy, and then when his big comeback didn't sell, they went bankrupt.

Pat: Yes, I think you're right. They had David Cassidy.

Q: Hopefully the people at Velvel won't do something like that.

Pat: I like the people at Velvel a lot. I like Walter Yetnikoff, he's a very humane guy. He's been very kind of me. And he does a lot of charity work behind the scenes. He had a bad reputation at one time and I think he's worked very hard to set that right and change his image. And all the people at the label, they've all had at least ten years major label experience.

Q: It seems like it's been quite a while since the Smithereens have done anything. Has it been hard keeping the band together?

Pat: Well, what you have to understand is that we're one of the few bands who have survived for such a long time. It's going on 18 years. We're fortunate because the band is revered in certain circles. It really is. And it still gives a lot of pleasure to a lot of people. And the back catalog still sells very well. I'm just saying this as a matter of fact. We're still able to go out on the road and command the same kind of money we made five years ago, because we made a decision a long time ago that if you want the Smithereens, you pay for the Smithereens. And people know what they're going to get. We built our reputation up after so many years. Now recently we've been maintaining a profile by playing a lot of festival dates, all summer. They're ideal gigs for us. Because we are a reflection of our audience. They're older, as we all are, they have children, they have mortgages, they have jobs, and we're still doing what we do, they're doing what they do and they've come along for the ride. It's a beautiful thing, because they're still rocking. And we're the ideal band for that audience, because we haven't lost any of our aggressiveness, or any of the feistiness of the band. Especially live.

Q: What I was asking, though, is that you left Capitol under not the best of circumstances, then there was the one-shot deal with RCA. I would think there would be a certain amount of pressure for you at that point to give it up and try something else.

Pat: Well, you remember the title of that last good Ramones album, "Too Tough To Die." We're the living embodiment of that spirit. And besides, I can't do anything else at this point. I have no job skills for anything else. I could probably do something else, but I really don't want. And I can still earn a decent living doing this, and I still have my talent, and I try to nurture it as much as possible.

Q: Well, if anyone understands that, it's me. I've been doing Jersey Beat for 15 years so I admire people who survive and don't give up.

Pat: We have that New Jersey survival instinct. It's part of who we are and where we're from. And the fact that we were adults before we became successful. At the time we got the record deal, we weren't 21 where we had this notion that the world owed us a living. We worked hard for everything. And we were fairly scorned by everybody else for a good long time. We couldn't get a gig at the Peppermint Lounge like everybody else, or Danceteria. And it was that toughness that developed. We did insane things in those days. We'd go on the road 320 days out of the year to promote an album. We'd take money out of our own pockets to hire record pluggers, to plug the singles to radio when the label lost interest. We never gave up. People don't realize some of the things we did because we believed in ourselves. And we still believe in ourselves. That's why we're still doing it. And I would say everyone in the band is just a nice as they ever were. And as decent and hardworking. We have that toughness that keeps us going. And pride. I think it's pride more than anything else that keeps us going, personal pride.

Q: There's a whole generation of songwriters from the Eighties - Richard Barone of the Bongos, Marshall Crenshaw, Mitch Easter, Scott Miller, Peter Holsapple, Chris Stamey - all people who came along about the same time you did and who have persevered, and yet were never in the right place at the right time to have that big commercial hit record. At this point in your lives, is that a kinship there? Do you feel part of something with those other people?

Pat: Well, we actually sold a few more records than most of those people. Which was amazing. I never thought we'd sell more than 2000 records. But I know what you're saying. Now that we're all older and life has kicked everybody around a bit and we're not kid, there's a definite kinship. Richard (Barone) and I are very good friends. Back in the days of the Bongos, who knows what was going through his head? He's a lot nicer now than he was in those days. Back then, you have to remember, there was a certain competition. And they were in a certain scene that developed and we were left out of most of that. The dB's, unfortunately, they always had this smug, superior attitude. They'd never even say hi to me. These days, it's a little different. (Smithereens drummer) Dennis (Diken) is very good friends with Peter Holsapple now. But you had that circuit of bands back then who got the gigs and the publicity, and we existed outside of that. We couldn't get a gig anywhere in Manhattan except Folk City. But for some reason, it clicked for us commercially. Maybe it was the songs, it might have been the spirit of the band, it might have been the fact that we wouldn't let anything enter the world of the Smithereens that would disrupt it, and we've subordinated each individual ego for the sake of the band.

Q: Any regrets?

Pat: I think there are certain musical moments, certain moments on certain albums that could have been better. Especially the Blow Up album. The demos for that album really anticipated the whole grunge thing. The demos were really dirty and almost violent. And Ed Stasium (producer of Blow Up) was going through a bad time in his life at that time. His wife left him the first day of that project. So I don't think he... There are fades on that album that last four minutes. I don't think we were on top of it. And we had just expected that album to sell because 11 had done so well so maybe we didn't put as much effort into it as we should have.. So there are certain things that could have been done better, or in terms of the sounds of the guitars or the mix. But in terms of the band and what we've done with our lives? No, I don't have any regrets. I really don't. There are times I think perhaps I should have gone to law school, which was my original intent when I was at NYU. But when I dropped out to start the band, that all ended. I've had a steady income, but anything I've been able to provide for my family, and the ability of the rest of the band to provide for their families based on songs that I write, so I have to write songs that will be popular and get played on the radio... It's a tremendous burden. Whereas when you graduate from medical school or law school, you know you'll have a steady income when you get out. With music, there's no guarantee. I've had a very exciting life, and I - and the rest of the guys in the band - have crammed ten or twenty lifetimes into one, with all the traveling we've done and all the people we've met, and all the joy that we've felt with the things that we've done. It's been a great ride. As long as it's still fun, and as long as we can still do it, we won't stop. But again, all of us are married, all of us have kids and houses and necessities that everyone should have and enjoy in life. (Former bassist) Mike (Mesaros) used to say that he lived like a college student his whole life so he could stay in the band. I didn't necessarily agree with him by I see what he meant. By not owning a house, by not owning a nice car, by living frugally, you take a lot of pressure off. All of us make our own choices.

Q: How did the solo album come about?

Pat: I didn't go searching for a solo deal. We were sort of in career limbo because we refused to go to the major labels, knocking on their door hat in hand like beggars with a demo tape. We couldn't do it, with all we had achieved and everything. We weren't willing to do that. Then I had a chance encounter with Bob Frank, who is president of Velvel. He had come over after running Polygram in Nashville for five years, and was working with Walter Yetnikoff. And he asked me what I was doing, and I said nothing, so he asked me if I was interested in doing a solo record. It was what was offered at the time. I was always much more interested in doing a Smithereens record. That's really my chosen vehicle for musical self-expression, but the solo record was offered. And I sort of knew that if I did a good record, they'd be interested in the Smithereens, and sure enough, that's what happened.

Q: There are subtle differences but any Smithereens fan will instantly recognize that it's you on the solo album.

Pat: There are subtle differences obviously. But I know how to write in one three-chord style. It's what I do and I'm good at it. No one does it quite like me, and no one else sounds like me. I'm blessed with a voice that doesn't sound like anybody else's, for better or voice. So you know it's my voice, and that's always been one of the hallmarks of the Smithereens. The way the guys on the solo record interpret the material is totally unlike the way the band would interpret the same songs. And that's a beautiful thing, because I didn't want it to sound exactly like a Smithereens record. It had to have enough of a hook musically, enough familiarity so people would know who it was, but I also liked the notion of cross-pollinating all these musicians from different backgrounds with my pop sensibilities. (Bassist) JJ (Burnel) was in one of the original pioneering punk bands, the Stranglers. (Saxophonist) Sonny (Fortune) made his reputation with Miles Davis, and (drummer) Tony Smith can play just about anything. The players on the record never sat down in the same room together before we started recorded. Sonny came to the studio never having heard anything by the Smithereens, so he was totally unprepared. JJ knew some of the early Smithereens albums but he didn't learn any of the songs for the solo record. So we made up a lot of stuff on the spot, and it gelled very quickly. I was very happy with the sessions.

Q: Here's a question I like to ask people in your situation. If you had to fill out an application and there was a tiny line where it said "Occupation," what would you write down?

Pat: I would put down "musician." Or songwriter. I was at an auto dealer and I was filling out the lease application for my station wagon, and where is said "Occupation?" I put down "musician." So the guy sitting behind the desk at the leasing office says, "Musician? What kind of musician are you, Mr. DiNizio?" And I said I played in a band. "Well, might I have heard this band?" he says. So I told him the Smithereens. Well, the guy sits back in his chair and he goes, "The Smithereens? The Smithereens are one of the finest pop-rock bands in the nation. I am very pleased to meet you." So it made the lease application process go very quickly. It's funny, the people you meet who know your work. So that's what I put down: Musician.

Q: Which is different from "songwriter." A songwriter will write songs even if he doesn't have a band, or doesn't have any way to perform or record for a while.

Pat: You're right. In that sense, I'm really not a songwriter. I don't feel driven to write songs if I don't have a project. Especially after our first album was a bit of a fluke success. It took five years to write all those songs and establish the band's sound. And then I had about a month to write the followup album, Green Thoughts. And I rose to the occasion, but I didn't know if I had anything left. I don't sit around with a guitar all the time and write songs, nor do I obsess over music. When I listen to music now, I sit down with intent, and I really listen to records now, whether it's Miles Davis or the Stranglers or Billie Holliday. It's a lot different. I think it's a shame that music has been relegated to the status of so much background noise. Everybody has to have music going all the time, and it diminishes the importance of music in your life. It shouldn't be muzak, it shouldn't just be something that's on all the time. So in any event, I haven't really written a song because I felt the need to in a long time, and I don't know if I ever did. I write for a project, I write because we're doing an album. The contradiction is this: I'm writing all the time in my head. I walk away and I have a melody in my mind. And the good ones stay in my head. That's what happened with this solo record. The ideas were floating around for a long time, they were complete songs for a long time. But the way my work process is, I don't even write them down or sing them into a tape recorder. Because the ones that are really valid and beautiful and have meaning always resurface. So I'm always thinking musically, but I don't consider myself an artist in the sense that I need to be writing songs all the time.

Q: Bob Dylan once said that the songs were just there, in the air, and he was just the guy who wrote them down.

Pat: Well, I think he said that so we'd think he was more humble than he really is. You have to really work at writing songs, and there's great pleasure in writing a song that you know is really good, and it makes you happy, and you know other people are going to like. There's that moment, and that's the finest, most pleasurable moment on every level, especially emotionally. When you know you've done a good piece of work.