The members of Mr. Mehta just out of traction and back in action (left to right) Michael McHugh, Phil Fugelo, Mark Telling, Barre Altman, and Scratch. (Photo by Wayne Cozzolino)

Michael McHugh, Phil Fugelo, Barre Altman, a guy simply known as Scratch, and Gary Boone — the five members of the band Mr. Mehta — sit in an out-of-the-way pub in Philadelphia draining pitchers of beer and telling band war stories to a sympathetic witness chronicling their history.

Suddenly, on-again-off-again guitarist Boone interrupts with a joke he has just heard about musicians. All heads turn, and Boone uncorks the following bit of rock-n-roll wisdom.

Q: How many musicians does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: 16. One to screw it in and the other 15 to say, “I could’ve done it better.”

By GREGG KIRK
Big Shout Magazine, May 1989

In a way, the punchline verbalized something the band never said in so many words, but it’s a fact they know perhaps better than most bands in the Philadelphia area. In a scene known for chewing up new groups and spitting them back out, it’s tough for band mates to get even the smallest amount of respect from their peers. And that, in effect, is what Mr. Mehta is grappling for in their latest attempt to reach the dangling record company carrot.

After a noticeable hiatus from the Philly music scene, the group is in the process of recording a new LP to be released this summer, and they’re playing the old familiar places again.

“We’re out of traction and back in action,” quips vocalist and mouthpiece Michael McHugh. For the amount of time the band has been around, the slogan doesn’t seem inappropriate. By most standards, a group that still contains all of its founding members after a couple of years is considered venerable. A band that can say this after five years is a candidate for a wheel chair.

Mr. Mehta was formed in 1984 through a chance meeting with McHugh and drummer Phil Fugelo, who works at Skinz on South Street.

“I walked into Skinz, and out of the blue Phil came up to me and asked me if I was a singer in a band,” says McHugh. “Little did he know, that I was a singer and I was looking for a band.”

Fugelo and close friend Barre Altman soon fleshed out the remaining line up with Scratch and Gary Boone, and for the remainder of the year, fate dealt the band a strange mixture of aces and jokers.

After only playing together for six months, the band landed a spot opening for the Psychedelic Furs at the Tower Theater. In the next year they played alongside such acts as the Cult, Sisters of Mercy, and a cast of bands who were unknowns at the time but who have lately risen to some level of stardom. But for some reason, Mr. Mehta stayed put.

After spinning their wheels for another year, the band met and became friends with Bobby Startup of the now-defunct East Side Club. Legend has it that Startup was the man responsible for sending the Stray Cats from Philly to England and later helped facilitate their first record deal.

According to Mr. Mehta, this was the plan Startup had for them. They recorded and released an EP in 1986 that garnered some press from England’s New Music Express and was #10 on their Rockpool charts, but apparently a publicist in England did not come through for the band, and the EP became a flash in the pan. And then the group hit some turbulent times.

“1987 wasn’t a very good year for us,” says McHugh. “And we went through a few managers before we got back on our feet again.”
“Going through a few managers” is putting it lightly. The band intimates that almost all of their former managers are dead except for Startup who recently got married, “which is even worse,” jokes McHugh.

Former DJ and music promoter Lee Paris committed suicide, former Kennel Club manager David Wildman died of cancer, and Danceteria manager Ruth Polsky was hit by a taxi cab while standing in line at the Limelight nightclub in New York City.

Things sank even lower for the band in 1987 when their current lawyer Simon Rosen arranged for them to play a showcase in front of seven major record labels at CBGB’s in Manhattan. But according to Altman, the band “personally fell apart” just before the gig. Guitarist Mark Telling from Red Herring was worked into the line up at the last minute and the band’s performance suffered.

“We didn’t play badly,” says McHugh, “But like some of the labels told us later, it just wasn’t magical.”

This has all been put behind them, and the group has learned a lesson from it.

“One of the labels at the showcase said they weren’t interested in signing us because of the way I flipped back my hair,” says McHugh. “We’re trying to bring back the traditions of rock ‘n’ roll with our music and take it out of the hands of the programmers like that. And we’re living proof that you can survive in Philly for five years without listening to what people like that have to say.”

“We’re one of the truly honest rock ‘n’ roll bands in Philly,” says Fugelo. “We’re not trying to sound or be like anybody else.”

“And we’re not trying to change the world. We’re just trying to rock it a little,” says Altman.

With alternative music becoming more of a dominant force in the Center City area, it’s no mean undertaking just to rock this town a little. But Mr. Mehta has adamantly stuck to their guns, playing music that has definite roots in the late ’60s, early ’70s mode of no-frills AOR fare. Imagine a large piece of the Guess Who mixed in with tiny slices of the Rolling Stones, the Who, and Cream… all mingled with a late ’80s American sensibility. The result is a mixture of sounds that hails the obvious rock icons while retaining a fresher, almost alternative bent.

But as McHugh is quick to note, “We’re an alternative to alternative music.”

The talk dies down as the last drop of the last pitcher is emptied. All eyes turn to Scratch, who has remained silent during the course of the interview. When asked what he has to say about anything, he simply replies: “Seven.” ‘Nuff said.