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The not-so-secret nightlife of some Westchester men
I It’s ten pm at an Irish pub in Queens, the hour between real
life and late night, and a crowd is flowing in. On stage, Rusty
Chicken is warming up. You might expect a nascent collective
out of Brooklyn; the type with deliberately unkempt hair and
skinny jeans, looking to be noticed as the next big thing. Instead
it’s a group of guys and a gal who look like your lawyer, your bro-
ker, or your contractor—and they really could be. At this pub, as
the 7 train rumbles overhead toward the soon to be leveled Shea
Stadium, late night is revolving around people who don’t nor-
mally do this sort of thing. They litigate, they consult, they build;
but tonight they take the stage. It doesn’t take much lip reading
skill to see what the bassist, Mark Guttenplan, with his hand
shading his eyes from the stage lights, says as he leans towards
the lead singer, “These are bright!” The lead singer, Mickey
Glauber, shrugs and pulls the visor of (appropriately enough)
his Mets hat further over his eyes.
In not too long Rusty Chicken launched into a set ranging
from Merle Haggard to The Cranberries. From the beginning of
the set, the division between supporters of the band and regu-
lars at the pub was clear, the former were saddled up to a mas-
sive guitar shaped counter in the center of the bar. The third and
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rothman’s magazine
by luk e t hom a s
Rusty Chicken at RMB’s: Evan Molho, Greg Steinberg, Mickey
Glauber, Mark Gutenplan, Steve Blevins (Not shown: Tony Saparito
on drums) www.rustychicken.com
fourth songs: a one-two punch of ‘Let it Bleed’ and a rousing ‘Me
and Bobby McGee,’ however, decisively drew previously indiffer-
ent barflies away from the bar and towards the guitar. Every
patron began to nod, clap, and yes, even shimmy, to the music.
Rusty Chicken isn’t creating themselves as the next big
thing. What they are creating is a damn good night.
Later, during a set break (forced by a conspicuous popping in
the PA system—this was no pampered Madison Square Garden
gig), I was talking to Mickey and keyboardist Greg Steinberg
about the band’s formation. Like any great group, Rusty Chicken
had to overcome adversity. Not hard drugs, not a need to violent-
ly liquor up before each show, no legal issues with groupies
thrown by the wayside in the wild ride of touring life; nothing so
simple. Rusty Chicken and the players in the larger Westchester
band scene in general have to work around more encompassing
distractions than mere heroin: families, careers, and the
supremely vicious cycle of coaching and rooting for kids’ soccer
teams. The reward is in each rehearsal and show, not the epic
tours of rock legend. Another Westchester rocker, Wayne Josel
of Off The Leash, explained the payoff: “We want people dancing
 Element 4 at Connollys — left to right: Sam Jordan, Lennie Chasse,
Dana G, Michael Gliedman. www.e4band.com
and singing along. It’s the full experience that’s fun.” Added
bandmate Stephen Rabinowitz, head of the NY real estate
office of Greenberg Traurig, “We are not going to be rock stars,
but we become the center of a great event, that allows people to
let loose and party- that is the best part.”
Jordan and the “dad bands”
Rusty Chicken and Off The Leash are just two in a cadre of
bands whose members have major full time jobs that have
developed within Westchester County. In the Larchmont area, a
band named Turtle Park (named after a local playground appro-
priately enough) was the first “dad band”. Jordan Goldstein of
Larchmont, a lawyer for a gaming company, but also a very tal-
ented keyboard player and vocalist, was fortuitously introduced
to some serious musicians in town. Although some of these
guys had some paid gigs after college, they certainly did not
acquire their houses in Westchester County on the strength of
their music earnings. Nevertheless, these were some very
accomplished musicians. Jordan got together with local gui-
tarist Andrew Leighton, drummer Scott Kaplan, and lead gui-
tarist Evan Molho to book some studio time. After playing a few
gigs and birthday parties, they added bassist Jorge Del Rio and
singer Jeff Solomon. Soon they were drawing huge local crowds
playing at bars and at the American Legion Hall. Not only could
locals see the dads who were usually spotted screaming on the
soccer sidelines now singing into the microphone, but these
guys were a pretty tight live unit. According to Goldstein “We
practice hard, keep learning new things, and are not afraid to
take risks in public. Our mix of blues, rock and pop, all with a
funk sensibility, makes it interesting. After the first time seeing
Turtle Park, the novelty of knowing the musicians is gone. At
that point, we have to let our music do the talking.”
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All of these groups are conscious and enthusiastic about
each other. They play in each others bands and enjoy the cama-
raderie. “In a weird way we view ourselves in a role more akin to
playing music than walking into a law office or business firm
and making million dollar deals,” said Josel of Off The Leash
who (when he has to) works as a lawyer at Hughes Hubbard &
Reed, “even if I spend a colossal amount of time in the law gig.”
Yeah, big ticket deals are made between gigs. Every musician
interviewed cited the same hierarchy for how they live: family-
job-music. It’s not hard to see how essential their professional
lives are to supporting families, but the music gives back as
well.
“We really try to bring all of our families into the mix so
there’s not so much competing for time,” said Jeff Solomon of
Turtle Park. Jeff moonlights—daylights rather—at Ramius
Capital, where he is a Managing Partner. Inspired by Turtle
Park’s bassist, Jorge Del Rio, Solomon’s son, Ryan, picked up
electric bass in 2006. Earlier this year, withRyan’s Bar Mitzvah
approaching, the guys let him jam with them in some practice
sessions. Once it was established that the sound worked, it was
time for some real showmanship, as Ryan led the band for a
crowd pleasing Turtle Park mini concert at his own Bar Mitzvah.
“I now have a permanent connection with my son through
music, which in large part was thanks to how accepting the guys
were,” said Solomon.
Some of the Westchester bands even write their own tunes.
Michael Gliedman lives in Scarsdale and is the Chief
Information Officer for the National Basketball Association,
but he may think of himself as the guy who plays lead guitar in
Element 4 (e4), a band that plays original songs with minimalist
80s pop sensibility and an industrial tinge. Element 4 has cho-
music
sen to move beyond the local gigs and plays venues like The
Bitter End and Connolly’s in NYC.
“We go in bursts,” Gliedman told me when I asked how the
heck he and his band mates manage families, musicianship, and
high profile companies. As gigs approach, the foursome crunch-
prepares with rehearsals in the few weeks before and often, he
said, manage to write new songs while they iron out the old
tunes. To hear the e4 songwriting process explained—the
gelling that occurs when they get together to jam between high-
ly demanding separate lives is to hear echoes of what everyone
interviewed, without exception, told me of precious private
rehearsals. “The coolest thing was to play and interact with the
other guys. After falling into a good combination we would look
at each other like ‘wow, that actually sounded like real music,’”
said Josel, of the less minimalist, more baudy Off The Leash.
Again, no matter what genre of jam, everyone had that same
story of the “a-ha moment” when it all begins to come together.
Chat 19
I recently made it to an Off The Leash hometown gig in
Larchmont. They showcased their sound and made Chat19 a
Saturday night hotspot on the otherwise un-Saturnalian subur-
ban drag that is Chatsworth Avenue. As the band’s set time
approached, again at the ten o’clock witching hour between
reality and nightlife, Chat19’s customers transformed from fam-
ilies with children, to fans with drinks like someone had hit a
switch.
Even though fans came out for it, the legitimacy of the rock
show in suburban Larchmont was surprising to some in the
audience. As Flippy, a guy with an authentic roadie’s ponytail
sets up Tee frame lighting, one man was surprised, “Whoa! They
Turtle Park: Jordan Goldstein, Scott Kaplan, Jeff Solomon,
Jorge Del Rio, Evan Molho, Andrew Leighton
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got stagelights!” Later in the night, a few of the guys from the
same table noticed me taking notes on the scene. When I told
them that I was writing an article on what some of the
Rothman’s customers do in their off time I was told “we’re from
Scarsdale, of course we know Rothmans! This is a Rothman’s
shirt.” Thrilled by the show, I later overheard this same group
plotting to form a band of their own. “You want keys or bass?”
the guy in the Rothman’s shirt grinningly asked his buddy.
That hotspot of a bar in the cold autumn suburbs was defini-
tive evidence that sometimes you just have to go for it. Maybe
these guys inspire other “dad bands” in other towns. Maybe the
rumors of a Westchester-palooza come true. For now, it’s uncan-
ny, a pleasant shock to the family and friends who gather out of
loyalty and to have fun, and because the music is irresistible. As
Stephen Rabinowitz, the very talented singer and lead guitarist
of Off The Leash told me, “Many come for the novelty, to see you
get up there at all. Others come prepared like NASCAR fans,
expecting a race, but secretly hoping for a crash. By the end of
the first song though everyone is shaking their heads and smil-
ing, some in disbelief I am sure, that the guy in the serious
suit on the 8:19 to Grand Central can really pull it off.”
Luke Thomas is a freelance writer. His almost “Almost
Famous” experience of trailing the “dad bands” did not include
any drug fueled parties, but did involve helping a sixth grader with
his math homework