Ray Condo’s real name was Ray Tremblay, and he was born in Hull, Quebec, to a family of eight children. Later, after years of sleeping on the couches of friends, acquaintances and women, he received the distinction of being a "one-man condo." His first record came out when he was just 16, playing with the Peasants, a British Invasion-style group. Later he performed in a Vancouver punk band, the Secret Vs, then moved to Montreal where he formed the Hardrock Goners and had a reasonable dose of success. Condo later formed the Ricochets in 1994, with whom he recorded Swing, Brother, Swing, and Door to Door Maniac. His last album, High and Wild, was released in 2000, and it was during that tour that I had a chance to see him play.

It was at the old Grog Shop in Cleveland - a smaller, darker club than it is now at their new location up the street. I remember there had been a good crowd, not huge but not embarrassing either, half of whom took to crooked and rambunctious swing dancing. Unlike the dorks who take the classes and go to shows just to look cool, everyone this night was there for the music first, and therefore, few of us could really dance at all. It was one of the only times I have ever tried swing dancing in public, and I have to admit, I had a blast. The music was just so good, and everyone was getting drunk and didn’t care how they appeared, which must have seemed like a dance party for pigeon-toed retards with rickets. It was a truly fun time, and a fond memory.

For the last three years since then, Condo took time away from playing music and worked for Canadian National Railways. Often he considered returning to painting, which he had originally gone to school for, but it was performing music that seemed to pull at his attention the hardest.

Far from being a hollow crooner, Condo’s voice was a seasoned yowl that alludes to a life lived boldly and without safety netting. He had hillbilly (not hipster) in him, and for a man aged beyond his years, he still certainly glowed with the rascality of youth. I don’t remember the specifics of our brief conversations with the man, but we all came off with the same impression: of meeting someone genuine, gracious to his fans, and cut with some of the same ragged genius that had made Hank Sr.

His friends have said that he was on a mission to keep the music alive with its original timeless integrity. He lived in his songs, and in the songs that moved him, and I am sure that he will stay with them forever.

I did get a chance to see him play, however. It was a few years ago at the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekender. He was sitting in with Marco DiMaggio in one of the small lounges at the Gold Coast. I remember sitting on the floor with Lisa and Sugar, all of us holding plastic boots filled with beer, and watching both of them go back and forth playing. Just as I respected Ronnie Dawson for not shirking his guitar responsibilities, that goes double for Paul Burlison. He was probably 71 at the time, and just tearing up the frets.

The Rock’N’Roll Trio was amazingly short-lived for such an influential band. Dorsey Burnette and Paul Burlison had met through Paul’s boxing teacher, and later formed the band fronted by Johnny Burnette (Dorsey’s younger brother and a Golden Gloves champion fighter). While they played in several variations from 1951, the officially became The Rock’N’Roll Trio in 1953. In between that time and 1957 (when they broke up) is when they recorded classics like “Tear It Up,” “All By Myself,” “Lonesome Train,” and many others. In that time they also toured with Gene Vincent and Carl Perkins, but never made the national charts. It is reputedly the recording of Tiny Bradshaw’s “Train Kept A-Rollin” that set a milestone in music for the first distorted sound. Apparently Paul on tour had his amp dropped and the tube knocked loose. He liked the sound it gave, then replicated it in the studio, giving him part of his signature sound.

Since the band seemingly wasn’t catching on to wider audiences, Burlison felt like a failure in music and returned to Memphis where he started his construction company. Johnny and Dorsey had continued to write and record, having moderate success until Johnny died in a boating accident in 1964. Dorsey later died of a heart attack in 1979. Burlison got back into recording music in the 80’s, but until his death he never ceased working at some level with his contracting business.

It’s hard to over-state how important this man was to rockabilly, and also to rock’n’roll in general. If there’s even a small vestige of legitimacy at all to the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame, he’ll be inducted there soon. If not, piss on that place and drink a beer for Paul Burlison.

The sense of loss is striking in its scope. The ‘myth’ built up around Johnny Cash and his music and lifestyle seemed to continually grow in its epic proportion – and will probably continue to. Man, singer, guitar player, originator, writer, drinker, addict, rebel, fearless, strong, sinner, fallen hero, love, hate, redemption, wisdom, peace, frailty, life, death, legend. To the true fan and in the public eye, Johnny seemed to take on nearly godlike proportions over the course of his life, of all things by trying to stay a simple honest man through his words and music. That honesty came through in a way that people of all generations could embrace.

He constantly touched on universal themes and laid them down on record stripped bare to the bone in their frankness as well as poeticism and even humor too. He also touched on much darker themes in the same way, earning him an entirely different kind of respect. A respect not as quickly handed out, given out of the fact there were so many who were grateful and touched that a single man could relate to their own inner darkness, their own secrets, their own sins and put it into words from his own heart and experiences. Because he literally, and in song, walked the line.

It is the fact he chose to be so honest his music was appreciated by so many. He played country, rockabilly, rock, folk, gospel, and almost everything in between and earned fans in all those genres. A true artist, he was capable of reflecting a certain type of music and inspiring new directions for that sound at the same time. All the while maintaining his own distinctive style, his own distinctive voice and steadfastly remaining unflinching in his music and integrity. It is especially poetic that Johnny’s career ended with him performing the songs of others. Songs written by artists of today who he no doubt influenced, and still he made them his own as only the Man in Black could. The music came full circle, and Johnny made sure the circle was unbroken.

Just the name Johnny Cash conjures up so many images and moments and sounds. The young man with slicked-back hair and eyes hidden but burning with a vision behind those dark sunglasses, the drug addict guitar player singing the stories of his crimes, his middle finger constantly flipped at the establishment of the time, a hellraiser and sinner who left Sun Records so he could record gospel songs. His influence is especially strong in the rebel music we live and love today. There is no denying the impact he had on “us.”

Whether we are greasers or punks, or we don’t know what we are, or no matter what kind of struggle we felt as we searched for ourselves, we are all eternally in debt to Johnny Cash. Maybe it was his songs that helped us along the way, maybe it was some band that was influenced by his individualistic stance, but we all have Johnny Cash in our personal soundtracks in one form or another. We’ve had our share of demons and sins, and Johnny was the devil playing his fiddle for us, or even the merciful angel delivering a song of salvation.

And it is in us that Johnny Cash will live on. In song and memory and maybe even way of life. We know who we are, so I know I don’t need to go into greater detail why Johnny’s songs are so close to us. And why I hope I do the readers of RnR Purgatory (and the fans of the music that it is dedicated to) justice when I say on behalf of all of us, “Once again with June at your side, be at peace which you so greatly deserve. Thank you Johnny.”

Ronnie Dawson
August 11, 1939 – September 30, 2003

By Ben Lybarger

Well when I die don’t ya bury me at all.
Just hang my bones up on the wall.
Beneath these bones let these words be seen,
the runnin’ gears of a boppin’ machine.
- Ronnie D, “Rockin’ Bones”

The next time I saw him was at the big Green Bay rockabilly festival last summer. While that set wasn’t as long or quite as raucous as the one I saw a couple years prior, it was still heads above many others at the show. With no slight intended for the other older performers I saw, again Dawson never seemed like he was doing a tired karaoke of his old songs, using younger bands play the music and take the guitar leads.

Ronnie Dawson started in the 50’s as Ronnie Dee & The D Men and won ten weeks in a row at the Big D Jamboree in Dallas, TX where he was born. Later he became known as the “Blonde Bomber” and made it onto American Bandstand twice. His other bands included The Light Crust Dough Boys, The Levee Singers, and Steel Rail, as well as his recordings for Columbia Records as “Snake Munroe” and “Commonwealth Jones.” He’d also picked up studio work playing drums for other bands, and did commercial jingles for radio and TV. In 1986 No Hit Records in England began re-releasing his old material, as well as subsequent new albums. I believe his last studio album “More Bad Habits” was released in 1999 on Yep Roc Records. He’s played Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, Viva Las Vegas, the Rockabilly Rave festival in England, and on and on... he also played The Conan O’Brien Show twice. Despite never making the big-time, Dawson never became jaded or deterred from making his kind of music, and instead became one of rock’n’roll’s most dedicated disciples.

That’s just a quick rundown of the man’s music career, which is perhaps notable in the fact that he never released a full album until 1987. I wish I knew more about him personally that I could relay to you. He was definitely someone remarkable, and the world is surely a lot less rockin’ now that he’s gone.