Edward Rogers: The Artful Dodger of Astor Place
A candid chat with a legendary NYC scenester
For those who don’t live in Manhattan — Astor Place is, for all intents and purposes, in the center of the city’s East Village.
For decades, the East Village — Greenwich Village in general, really — has been associated with artists, students and bohemians. The Beats hung out there in the 1950s, the folkies did a decade later and the punks did a decade after that. When this writer moved to NYC, in the early ’80s, the East Village was populated mainly by an interesting mix of young punk rockers and older Ukrainian people.
The East Village, like many places, is now a shadow of its former self. Many of its famous landmarks have shut down and many of the artists have left because gentrification has rendered most of the neighborhood unaffordable. That said, there are still vestiges of the Village past here and there — and some of them are right around Astor Place. The Public Theater, for example, which is one of NYC’s most famous off-Broadway venues. McSorley’s, one of the city’s oldest ale houses, for another. And, of course, there is the big, spinning cube right in the center.
Edward Rogers knows a thing about Astor Place, having lived there for 20 years now. Originally from Birmingham, England, Rogers has been in NYC for decades. He started out as a drummer — and he and Melani, his wife of many years, were part of the famous NYC music scene of the 1970s. In the mid-80s, a freak subway accident robbed him of his right arm and part of his right leg. Rogers laid low for a while before returning to music as a singer-songwriter. His debut album, Sunday Fables, arrived in 2004.
VIDEO: Edward Rogers “Romeo”
Over the last 20 years, Rogers has been remarkably prolific. Beyond releasing eight more solo efforts, he has been a part of two duos: The Bedsit Poets (with fellow Brit Amanda Thorpe) and Rogers & Butler (with former Smash Palace and Quincy frontman Steve Butler). He has also played with other bands, cohosted the radio show Atlantic Tunnel and even opened for some of his heroes like Dave Davies and Colin Blunstone.
Rogers returned this month with Astor Place — his first solo album since 2021 and his strongest in some time. It’s a concise album — 10 songs — that is part autobiographical and part observational. The title track is a jaunty, midtempo ode to the place he’s called home for the last two decades. There are also lovely ballads like “Diamonds Hidden in the Pearls,” “The Olde Church” and “I Walk Behind Your Shadow,” as well as rockers like “Romeo” and “Lies, Cries and Alibis.”
Rogers worked with producer Don Fleming for the first time on Astor Place and he also employed a new rhythm section: drummer Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth fame and bassist Tony Shanahan who is Patti Smith’s musical director. That said, this album is similar to most of his work in that it’s baroque pop with winning melodies and nostalgic lyrics.
I recently had the pleasure of catching up with Edward Rogers for the Rock & Roll Globe — appropriately enough on Astor Place!
[Let’s] start with the title track. What does Astor Place mean to you and why did you wait until now to [use that] album title?
I’m an observational writer. So what I’m looking for is something that has a beginning and an end, if I can possibly find it. It’s fun to do that.
I looked out the window one day and I was like, “There’s Astor Place right there!” I remember in the ’60s, when it used to be hippies. And then the punks took over. Now I guess rap people are there. And it’s just funny that that particular area still maintained its kind of magic. You always see people, when they’re sightseeing, they always want to turn the cube! And they all wanna go to McSorley’s [and] various other locations in that area.
Meanwhile — I think one of the lines is “Kids are down the street selling junk.” You know, you go down a couple of avenues and there’s drug use beyond belief. It’s still there. So there’s countercultures going on still. I think that’s what inspired me to start [the song].
I wanted to ask you about another song with a location [in the title]: 15 Eldon Road. Was that actually your childhood home?
Yes, it was. Still is to me. A couple of years ago, we were doing a tour — I think it was with Colin Blunstone. We had a day where we had to go from A to B [but] we had to through C, which was Birmingham. [So] I said, “Let’s see if I can find my house.” I hadn’t seen it in like 40 years!
So we looked for Elton — like Elton John [Road]. And we weren’t finding that. Eventually, the person who was driving said, “You know what? There’s an Eldon Road. Let’s try that.” Then, all of a sudden, I knew how to get there. This was the middle of nowhere. [But] I was able to say, “Turn left here. Turn right here.” Got to the house and [it] hadn’t changed at all! My father had put down the gravel for a two-car garage. Still there, same color. There was a piece of fence that he broke [that] was never replaced. It was just eerie, like going back in time. But that’s where I [lived] before we came to America. So yeah, it was pretty astounding.
I’ll give you [another] story. “The Olde Church” is an interesting song. It was written about Colin Blunstone’s daughter’s wedding. Basically, I got on the train and wrote the whole song. [By the time I got] back to London, I had it finished. I think it was a three-hour train ride.
I also wanted to put strings on there because Colin’s solo album One Year, which is all strings, is an amazing record.
I’ve heard that [album’s great]. Yet it didn’t sell, right?
Flopped. He did have a hit single in England from that album, “Say You Don’t Mind,” which was a Denny Laine song. But the album didn’t sell.
One more. I did wanna ask you about “Lies, Cries and Alibis.” I was wondering, is it about someone specific? (laughter)
No, no. It’s a general statement! Good question. Like I said, most of the time I’m writing observational songs. That’s what inspires me and that’s why I sit down.
I deviated with this album quite a bit. In the sense that I worked with a different producer [and] different musicians — and got a different result. So I was putting myself out there. On this album, [the producer] is Don Fleming.
You usually work with another Don, right?
Don Piper! (laughter) Everybody’s Don! Well, Don Piper — he’s like one of the mates. He’s also a touring member of the band and he played guitar on this [album]. But he was busy when we were getting to record. He said, “If you know somebody [else] don’t wanna hold you back.” I wanted Don Fleming for a long time, so I was like, “Let me ask him.” And he came out of retirement to do this.
[Fleming] used to produce Sonic Youth, Teenage Fanclub, Cheap Trick… And he seems to know everybody. He’s just one of those people. So I said, “Why don’t you get the rhythm section together?” He ended up getting Tony Shanahan who [works with] Patti. And Steve Shelley is from Sonic Youth, of course. They had to play in my style versus theirs. So it was kind of interesting to watch the experiment.
Shelley, in particular, is more of a rocker, right?
Oh yeah! [And] Tony can handle anything.
So that’s how the nucleus of the band came together. Don approached [producing] in a different way in the sense that he kept me going on vocals, probably on and off, for a month. He wanted every word to be perfect — and I’m not used to that. I’m used to cutting three or four takes! Okay, if we got it, we got it. And if [we] haven’t, let’s go back and see what’s gotta be repaired. Whereas he wanted the whole song. So I basically sang myself sick!
VIDEO: Edward Rogers “Magical Drum”
What do you get [from doing] a solo record that you don’t get when you’re doing, say, a Rogers & Butler disc or a Bedsit Poets album? What’s special about being a solo artist?
Well, what’s special about it is that you get the end line decisions. As much as I love Steve [Butler, he] has his own beliefs at certain points. And I have mine. There’s always a little bit of friction. But for the most part, we really get along. He’s the brother I didn’t have.
With Bedsit Poets, it’s difficult because [with] Amanda living in England, we have to wait til she comes here or I go there. So when she came over, we just went into the studio with my backing band and cut as many songs as we could. We just have a natural harmony. She can adjust to me all the time. It’s amazing.
Steve and I work on parts all the time to get it right. Everything’s a challenge, which is great. You know, I’ve learned a lot about singing and harmony from him. On this particular album, there isn’t much harmony going on. It’s pretty sparse.
I noticed the album was dedicated to Sal Maida. I knew he played bass with the greats for over 50 years — but I didn’t know him personally. I was wondering if you could [tell us] a little about Sal.
I probably knew Sal for 30 years. When he was in Milk N’ Cookies, we used to see him at Max’s Kansas City. He’d already at that point been in Sparks. After that, he was playing with Milk N’ Cookies. He got called out to California to play on most of Kim Fowley’s sessions — so he played on The Runaways’ albums. Sal would go in, knock off the song really quick. At the same time, he played with Roxy Music.
I knew about Sparks but don’t [think I] knew about Roxy. But I know they’ve had a lot of bass players. It’s like Spinal Tap and drummers!
(laughs) Yeah, exactly! They always replace bass players. He was like the third of many!
Sal was a real good friend. He would do anything for you [and] would make friends with anybody. Without going into the details of the accident, everybody was shocked when they heard [about his death]. He had some illness but not enough to do him in. But he took a fall and hit his head. That’s basically what happened.
But if you needed somebody to play bass — you gave him the demos and he would come in with his own ideas. And if you had [Smithereens drummer] Dennis Diken playing with him — the two of them would just go (snaps fingers).
I’ve noticed [something about] most of your albums. There’s sort of a sense of looking back — of places that are gone, of innocence that’s lost. I guess I wanted to ask you about that.
I don’t think I live in this time. With all that’s going on, I’m really not in this world; I’m 20 years back. That’s probably why I’m such an observational writer. The ’70s and ’80s were wonderful times for me — and I probably look back to those times. I don’t go back further. Memories come from that. Ideas come from that. Today I feel it’s much harder. I’m the oldster now in the band, you know? I’m in my 70s. It’s difficult to look at it and kinda go, “Oh! You’re the person that’s gotta give them advice.” So yes — I do write a lot about situations that have passed by. They seem to be just ideas that I have about how fast the world is turning now.
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