From The Scranton Times - Monday, July 30, 1984

Dakota Hoping Third Time’s The Charm

There are a lot of people who are defiantly critical of what is commonly referred to as conventional wisdom, that battery of thoughts and sayings many persons often cite as gospel truth.

Bill Kelly and Jerry Hludzik, a pair of singer/guitarists who seem to have been prominent on the local musical scene longer than the statue of Christopher Columbus has been standing motionless on the Courthouse Square, are staunch members of this critical core.

Both are energetic and imaginative young men and, as such, generally display a marked tendency to shunt aside the apocryphal yarns, old wives tales and hand-me-down credos. They have had their share of good times in the music business, but they have also had their difficulties, as well. So, it is natural that they have taken a kind of conservative, defensive position wherein they believe only some of what they see and little of what they hear.

“If every promise that was ever made to us came true,” says Hludzik, a resident of Dalton, “we’d be bigger than the Beatles. You can’t believe half the things people said they were going to do for us. Trouble is, they never did.”

But, such well-grounded and highly justified cynicism aside, the two musicians now find themselves hoping intensely that at least one of those old sayings is true.

As they gear up to promote their latest album, “Runaway,” on the MCA label, Kelly and Hludzik are crossing their fingers, holding their breath and firmly hoping that, indeed, “The third time’s the charm.”

“Runaway” marks the third chapter in the on-going saga of the relationship between Kelly and Hludzik and Danny Seraphine, who has had a hand in the production of each of their albums. Each member of the triumvirate has his own dreams of glory connected to the production. Moreover, they are hoping that history – at least in the terms of being so close to, yet so far from national success – doesn’t repeat itself.

“I’ve had egg on my face so many times in the past,” says Kelly, whose piercing high-ranging voice has done much to define the Dakota sound in the past, “that I’m almost afraid to get excited about this album. But, damn it, I am excited. This album shows how good Dakota can really sound.”

Certainly, “Runaway,” filled with vestigages of syntho-pop gadgetry, is the two men’s best effort yet. It is neatly textured music, a collection of well-crafted songs that makes for easy listening. Three tunes in particular, the title cut, “When The Rebel Comes Home,” and “Angry Men,” show Hludzik and Kelly doing what they do best as they meld penetrating vocal work with sharp instrumentation. Despite the strong electronic production influences, “Runaway” is not a gimmickry album. Rather, it is strong, assertive pop tinged with blues influences (ala Hall & Oates) and laced with sometimes sophisticated – but always catchy – rhythm arrangements.

This is a pleasant progression from past efforts.

The first two discs (one, with the group called The Jerry-Kelly Band was entitled “Somebody Else’s Dream” and was released on the Epic label, while the other, the self-titled “Dakota” album, was released by Columbia) were co-produced by Seraphine, the drummer for the super group Chicago, and David “Hawk” Wolinski, whose musical star shone brightest when he was the keyboard player for Rufus.

“There were things we were proud of on both those albums,” says Hludzik, “but there were also a lot of inconsistencies. Danny and Hawk are both bright, creative guys, but there were times when they were just about in open conflict. That didn’t help any. This time around, it’s totally Danny’s baby.”

In fact, both of the group’s first two releases seemed to be the product of an ill-defined search for identify. The first release was a close cousin to folk rock and showed hints of the singers’ talents, but it was filled with muddled production values and was devoid of commercial “hooks,” those attention-grabbing devices so necessary to broad-based success.

The second album, more powerful and squarely in the pop/rock zone, was commercial to a fault. One song, “If It Takes All Night,” seemed to possess all the ingredients for a hit, but the record was poorly promoted and enjoyed but scattered success.

“You know,” says Hludzik, “that album sold 50,000 units. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, but you wouldn’t know it by the way the company treated us. We just never got it going between them (Columbia) and us.”

Despite the fact that “If It Takes All Night” was a good enough tune to hit No. 1 in Louisville, KY, among other places, Kelly feels that the company “treated the album as if it escaped, rather than being properly released.”

Though many groups would all but give up their guitars to get the chance Dakota had, Hludzik and Kelly feel that the situation was more illusion than reality: Despite having a major contract, they never really had a shot at national success.

For instance, the fact that they were forced to change their name from The Jerry-Kelly Band to Dakota still rankles them. “We tried hard to establish Jerry-Kelly,” says Kelly, “but Columbia wanted a rockier sounding name. Dakota was suggested by our studio drummer and the front office at the label loved it.

“Being from Pennsylvania,” Kelly recalls, “we originally hated it, but we took some consolation from the fact that there's actually no Dakota (just North Dakota or South Dakota) and the name has grown on us.”

And, even though Dakota landed the spot as special guest on Queen’s tour touting “The Game,” Kelly and Hludzik believe that Columbia never gave the record the respect it deserved.

Still, if nothing else, the evolution of “Somebody Else’s Dream” into “Dakota” showed the growth and maturity of Hludzik and Kelly as musicians. Listen to those two albums back-to-back and you can see three things quite clearly:

(1.) Kelly and Hludzik have the talent to be successful pop/rock artists;
(2.) There was a marked increase in production quality between the first and second discs;
(3.) The men’s musical forte – the sound that is a balance between what they do best and what has the greatest basis for sales success – was never either exploited or, for that matter, clearly identified.

There’s an old joke about the Edsel, that horrendous failure in the history of American auto manufacturing, having been designed by committee. Then there’s another one of those gems of conventional wisdom, “Too many cooks spoil the broth.” Both of these things seem to apply to the murky, uneven qualities of the first two discs. There is an obvious strain that evolved from the production quarrels. Tie this fact to the poor promotion and you have a reasonable autopsy of Dakota’s past failures.

Now, however, both Kelly and Hludzik feel that “Runaway” has benefited from the fact that Seraphine was in total control. Moreover, Hludzik says, “it shouldn’t be forgotten that Danny has a tremendously big stake in this project. He wants to be taken seriously as a producer; he wants this to be as successful just as badly as we do.”

But that doesn’t mean that Seraphine tried to do everything himself, even though he did handle all the drum work on the nine tunes. The album has been engineered by Humberto Garcia, who performed the same chores on Michael Jackson’s megasuccess, “Thriller.” In addition to Hludzik, Kelly and Rick Manwiller, a highly talented keyboard player who is now the third official member of the band, instrumental work was handled by Wolinski, Toto’s Steve Porcaro, saxophonist Ernie Watts and guitarist Richie Zito, each of whom is – beyond their reputations as part of successful groups – a well-established studio musician. Local musician Bill McHale, a former member of Dakota, also handled some of the bass work.

“I hate to sound like a crybaby,” says Hludzik, who co-wrote six of the “Runaway” songs with Kelly and a seventh, “Angry Men,” with Kelly and Robert Lamm, the Chicago keyboardist, “but we’ve been so close…so close. Thing is, the politics of the business has been the thing that’s done us in. Whatever happens with this album – for that matter, what’s happened with the past albums – doesn’t really reflect on our ability as musicians. We can do what we have to do and we can do it well. But, we have to have help. We can’t go door-to-door to sell albums. We have to have promotional help. We have to have a company that believes in us and will do what it takes to help. We haven’t had that in the past, but I’m hoping this time will be different,” he says, drawing the back of his hand across his lips in the same motion as a man wiping egg off his face, “you never know.”

Kelly and Hludzik feel that just as they are trying to validate themselves as artists and Seraphine is bidding to establish his credential as a producer, Irving Azoff, the head of MCA, is attempting to underscore his role as a power in the music industry.

Azoff, at the time the head of Full Moon Records, contacted Hludzik and Kelly about the latest project sometime in late 1982. The initial plan, based on rehearsals that began in February of 1983, was to release the album on Full Moon in July of that year. But Azoff moved to MCA and plans fell into limbo.

While Kelly and Hludzik are somewhat evasive about the issue, it seems that Azoff, in a canny move, revealed little interest in Dakota to the people he left behind at Full Moon, which was absorbed by Warner Bros. Eventually, having been careful not to create any feelings that Dakota was a potentially hot commercial property, Azoff signed them to MCA.

“This is the first time,” Kelly says, “that we will have an album come up under the watchful eye of the person who brought us to the label. That means something.”

But both men know it takes more than optimism and talent to have a hit record. On the Jerry-Kelly disc, Peter Cetera, Lee Loughnane and Laudir deOliveria, all members of Chicago at that time, lent their considerable musical skills to the disc, with the idea that Hludzik and Kelly would front a band of hired sidemen if the album took off. It didn’t. In the Dakota debut, the format was changed. Area musicians Lou Cossa and Jeff Mitchell, on keyboards, and McHale, on bass, were joined by drummer John Robinson in the studio. When the tour with Queen began, Tony Romano was the drummer. Shortly after the tour began, Cossa exited the band. It was a case of musical chairs and it did nothing for the band’s overall success.

When they talk of Queen tour, both Kelly and Hludzik light up at the recollection. It was a first-rate professional gig played in front of big audiences in major cities. It was the highlight of their career together. But when the album failed to live up to expectations, hard times set in. The two men held the band together for three years, “scamming,” as Hludzik explains, “to stay together and put food on the table.” But the task was more than they could handle. They regrouped as a duo and elected to take some time off to evaluate the situation.

“We had never had more than a week off,” says Hludzik. “We were two guys who have earned a living the last 20 years only by playing in bands. Taking a break was a scary proposition.”

And, while they have steadfastly maintained a brave front in public, they were wounded by what happened to them. At the time Dakota seemed to have a good chance at breaking nationally, local audiences were in the palm of the band’s hand. If Dakota decided to play original material in a local show, it was good enough for the patrons, most of whom believed they were in on the ground floor, hearing tunes that would become hits. But, when the hits didn’t come, the audiences turned surly, demanding that the band go back to playing copy music. It was bitter vetch for men hoping to reap a crop a gold.

Moreover, Dakota’s demands on club owners took a toll. At their, peak, Dakota was seeking opening acts, even when they appeared in relatively small clubs. And, of course, there were the perks – food platters, relish tray, beer, and liquor. Club owners abided these things when the band was riding high, but as the group’s popularity ebbed, so did the club host’s willingness to treat Dakota in a first-class way.

One club owner admits to knowing Kelly and Hludzik “only casually and by reputation” a few years ago. Recently, however, he has been hiring them as a duo. “It seems to me that they have grown up substantially as people, not just musicians,” the club owner says. “They seem to be very realistic about what’s going on around them now. I heard a lot of bad things about their attitude previously. But now, as far as I’m concerned, they're good people, as well as good musicians.”

In the first album, the lyrics from one of the tunes, a piece called “Changes,” gives a hint of the men’s attitude:

You’re a strange one, so they tell you,
But deep inside, you know you’re just the same
The music’s in you, and you knew it always was
And you can kiss them all goodbye
When you sign for your freedom

Both Kelly and Hludzik are talented lyricists and, at their best, pen words that are crisp, cutting and evocative.

So, when they now sing, “We angry men have landed, a fire inside is burning; it’s time to win,” the message is clear: Despite the frustration and despair, Hludzik and Kelly have galvanized their mental energy and musical talent for another run at success. If this album hits, another one won’t be far behind.

“No one has taken us seriously in our career, and we’ve survived on guts,” says Kelly. “But we’ve been in the business long enough to know that staying creative means something. So, right now is Square One of the last 20 years.”

“We have 15 new tunes ready to go into the studio with,” Hludzik says. “It’s all part of Irving Azoff’s wish that our listeners will feel that they’ve been out to lunch and something’s happened.”

Azoff, Seraphine, Kelly, Hludzik, and their numerous fans are hoping that this time that luncheon menu won’t include eggs.