Some of their original songs like "In Perspective" were extremely radical techno-punk and way ahead of its time, sounding like Devo doing "kings lead hat" Eno with strange electronic Drums and prophet 5 synthesizers. Lori and John tried to continue on their own but it was a meek effort. Eric and Scott continued to record and produced some really cool techno punk songs the best being "red sculpture". A picture of Scott playing in :2902 can be found at www.velvet-sun.com in the "Images and Icons section" Scott moved to New York and formed Figure Life out in the late 80s. It wasn't a bad band and they played at CBGBs probably 10 times and put out an EP to some acclaim. After 10 years of architecture Scott Weinkle formed the excellent Velvet Sun. The CD that he has played most of the instruments on is now receiveing excellent college radio play and national press and is a critical success as of May 2001.
More can be found on his band at www.velvet-sun.com.
Eric Gould is a successful architect in Boston and is scheduled to reunite with Scott on his next CD effort.
Although :2902 was never completely on the same page they experimented with musical sounds and structures that were 15 years ahead of 9" Nails, Suicide and many techno rhythms. Had they been in say New York with everybody agreeing on a direction they could have been a musical force. Even san francisco high tech bands like the units marveled at the sonic intensity and tightness of this techno-punk act. We all mourn the loss of Lenny Berkstresser who came up with the name and was an advisor and helped the band in many facets. Lenny was truly a genius and a little too brilliant for this world.
I'm thinking to creating a web site for the band come to think of it as I have much of the old recordings.
Everything. And nothing. Certainly nothing of much apparent meaning could be derived from the number-as-title of this footnote of a southern, power-pop-punk band from the days of the Buzzcocks and Blondie. True, the Gainesville band had preceded groups such as Level 27, or Heaven 17, by donning a number for a name and with it, a certain pseudo-cryptic appeal. And it was also their stab at flavoring the sensibility of the band within the infancy of the digital mindset of the late 70?s. It is safe to say that 29:02, for all it?s careening and colliding with any given number of ill-considered and perhaps confused cultural references, was the only fully electronic gig in Gainesville in 1979-80. You can count four synthesizers, and an electronic drum machine in the original format, (in addition to the usual rock arsenal, including, gee, tambourine.) And that?s at least something to take a slight note of?as well as that Gould and Holmes doubled their respective guitar and bass work with keyboards installed in front of them. Lawrence Welk himself might have remarked on such talented boy-es.
So, what were these fellows exactly doing, covering the likes of The Stranglers and Devo in the middle of the godforsaken swamps of central Florida? What, indeed.
Begun by childhood collaborators Scott Weinkle and Eric Gould in 1979, (then enrolled at the Architecture school of the University of Florida,) the venture followed their first grade-school band, The Sands of Time and ensuing summers and holidays of recordings in their South Florida homes. Gould recalled once that sometime in 1978, Weinkle showed up with a Buzzcocks album, and that began the whole thing. Or perhaps it was the wildness and rebelliousness of the entire punk movement, which made them want to join the train.
But maybe, it was a demonstration of their until-then unarticulated restlessness and alienation of their plight; stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a taste for the modern. Certainly, that could be said of their loosely affiliated mentor and guru, the late Len Berkstresser, (whom along with former roommate Tom Ruff began Weinkle and Gould on their odyssey in 1978 with an earful of David Byrne, Brian Ferry and Eno. It was Ruff who once remarked, one late night in the architecture studio that Eno in reverse was One.)
Berkstresser, perhaps the most talented designer ever to be enrolled at the University of Florida, was utterly, completely, unsuited for the inconveniences of the world such as deadlines, grades, bills?gravity. He was more often than not, a personal disaster. Still, his genius and vision were palpable, and those around him felt him an intellectual force to be reckoned with, (including his professors at the time, which was of constant entertainment.)
While the world was not ready for Berkstresser, Gould and Weinkle were. Next door neighbor, bank teller John Holmes followed shortly. (Holmes, whom was considering his own group, had the unenviable fortune of having the same surname as the world?s greatest-known porno actor of the day, a.k.a. Johnny Wad.) Bersktresser, Gould, Weinkle, and Ashley (Berkstresser?s black dog, whom Gould was positive was Voltaire, reincarnated,) spent hours under a cannabis haze, washing themselves over with wave after wave of Bowie, John Fox?s Ultravox, and others. Along with the musical influence came Berkstresser?s multiple and often mind-numbing lectures on art, experience, epicurianism?the political morale of architecture. Heady stuff, indeed, but the world was changing and 29:02 was one of the first hiccup?s from beneath the detritus of the Florida ooze.
After floundering around initially with some odd line-ups, they finally settled on the 1979-80 configuration with Eric Gould on guitar, John Holmes on bass, and Scott Weinkle acquiescing on drums, (although he was loathe doing it. He originally co-founded 29:02 with his now-famous catchy, yet atonal guitar hooks, and magnanimously agreed to play drums when an unmemorable drummer often froze in almost apoplectic poses, confounded by tempo changes.) Lawrence "Laurie" Getford, a keyboardist of somewhat spasmodic musicianship, with pre-programmed synthesizer fills often running amok, was added by Holmes almost immediately after the founding of the group, (originally entitled Janet Planet and the Neutrons?but THAT is another story entirely.) Bill Jay George, an architect with three first names, studio-mate of Gould, and sometimes comical blues harmonica player, was added in 1980, with the ability to hit many of the high vocal notes and was responsible for the band?s appearance one show in white polyvinyl painters suit?s and duct tape.
And so it began, the truly odd and strange journey of the fivesome?s exploration into perhaps the poorly chosen territories of sonic discord, cultural irony and beer soaked bars. (Most notably, they were often hired at a place entitled Friday Night Live, on 13th Street, infamous for its suspected bilking of bands from the paltry income of the door.) No one said it was a pretty journey, but there it was.
The group was, at times remarkable in its command of a wide array of cover material. In the summer of ?08, they once mesmerized the bar crowd at the infamous Great Southern Music Hall, with a soaring and commanding rendition of the Buzzcock?s "Autonomy," (which, by the nature of it?s drilling repetition also thinned out the crowd somewhat by songs end.) They were particularly fond of Fox?s Ultravox, (not the sappy reformed, simpering synth band,) covering such seminal pieces as "Slow Motion" and "When You Walk Through Me."
Although 29:02 was never completely on the same page conceptually, with disputes about artistic direction occurring almost from the beginning, they experimented with musical sounds and structures that were 15 years ahead of bands such as Nine Inch Nails, Suicide and other techno-punk groups. Had they been in the right market with a unified direction, (somehow, their sound never caught on in Micanopy or Palatka,) they would have perhaps been recognized for their--if nothing, but unique--vision. San Francisco high-tech bands like the Units marveled at the sonic intensity and tightness of their work.
And yet, the lads had their humor, too, incorporating infectious versions of Devo?s "Smart Patrol" and XTC?s little known single "Chain of Command." In fact, Devo?s "Uncontrollable Urge" became their signature closing song, and well known by their small, but fierce following.
Yes, those were the infant days of what eventually grew to be accepted as the Alternative Music style?down in the land where football rivalries were front page news and the British Invasion was remembered as the one from 1776, not 1976. 29:02 gigged around Gainesville with bands such as The Irritations, and worked hard that year of 1979-80, and even harder during the summer of 1980, in preparation for what was anticipated to be a lucrative fall of local bookings.
But sadly, fall--the act, not the season--became the script of what was to become of 29:02 that year. The band unwound amongst bitter divides over musical directions, and the urge to wean the group off of cover material, which it was hotly debated, was merely the vehicle for the band?s bookings of the first year. It was good enough for Lennon and McCartney, Gould and Weinkle thought, and it was good enough for a band barely past it?s first six months. The rest were not content to delay original works any longer (albeit with the conspicuous lack of them,) and recoiled at the thought of performing before a sweaty, dancing throng as opposed to an intellectual, refined, and concert audience.
So, as it happened, with the bitter taste of "no-original-material" in their mouths, Gould and Weinkle simply went off to record on their own, matching the three song annual Homes-Getford output in a few weeks. Their conviction and ability to respond and produce was clear, and they quickly booked a small downtown studio (now forgotten, except for the Owner-Engineer Ray, who generally recorded Southern Rock acts and batted not a lash at Gould and Weinkle calculated cacophony.) They taped the now well known instrumental "Red Sculpture," and Scott?s dark look at the inner mind "Telepathy", complete with Gould?s Manzanara-like skyward soaring solo, odd synthesizer overloads, and Weinkle?s uncanny knack for quirky yet spot-on tempo changes.
It was with these recordings in hand that Berkstresser discreetly began negotiations with the other faction of the band, hoping to engineer a reunion the following spring. Holmes, Getford and George?s activities of that period are sketchy, but it was clear that upon hearing the recordings, they were immediately interested in a reunion, and Gould and Weinkle agreed. 29:02 was again on track to inform the world that yes, infinitesimally small as it was there was once again a post-modern, angst-ridden machine-aged voice in Gainesville, Florida.
And so rehearsals began again, as did a few original recordings, including "Put it In Perspective," an extremely radical techno-punk piece, sounding like Devo performing "Kings Lead Hat" by Brian Eno. "In Perspective" often left their summer-time crowds jaw-dropped with its crushing bass-synth lines and guitar squalls from the edge of madness. They also had recorded lighter fare such as "Artificial Light," which Weinkle later dismissed as "oinky-boinky stuff." It was obvious that three of the now foursome (George?s tenure had ended,) had matured as musicians, with a three man rehearsal of Homes, Gould and Weinkle once sparking some interest in going out simply as a power trio, which never transpired.
The irony of the times?the paradox of electronic culture, mass consumerism, the cholesterol-constricted fossils of the Cold War, and the vampiric vestiges of disco?were emblematic for 29:02, and they were, once again, unable to surmount the cultural chaos of the times, as well as their own inner discord. In a parallel, but opposite twist, it was Gould and Weinkle who now walked away from a summer of hard work, and a fall?s promise of local bookings. Even Len Berkstresser?s masterful stewardship was not enough to make 29:02 a success.
But others might argue that they were. And indeed they had another few reformations that achieved some local notoriety, including a tour to Tampa (with Weinkle back on board as drummer?and with Gould?s blessing,) and an opening gig for a small weekend concert of middle-tier national acts on campus at the University of Florida. Interestingly, Weinkle rejoined during a hiatus with the Silo?s Walter Salas?s Gainesville project, The Vulgar Boatmen, while Gould had dropped out from his Master?s Degree coursework in Architecture. (He went on to finish in 1984.)
But the history at this juncture becomes unclear, although we do know now, that Scott moved to New York around 1985 and formed Figure Life Out. FLO had a brief but successful run around Manhattan and New Jersey, playing CBGB's 10 times and issuing a self-titled EP to some acclaim. Now, after 10 years of architecture he has formed the group Velvet Sun, with another new CD and is now receiving wide college radio play and national press. More can be found on Scott?s band at www.velvet-sun.com
We also know that Eric went on to practice architecture in Boston, and continued on with his knack for the artistic and absurd, working on a number of gallery installations, public art projects and stage sets. He now runs his own firm, Helicon Design Group.
As for the other members of 29:02, other historians must fill in the gaps of the band?s ensuing make-ups. If a more refined, easy-listening format was what the surviving members were looking for, it appeared that with a smoother, homogenized and fully synthesized line-up, they found it.
Gone were the days of the raw, and yes, often-unpolished techno wall that was the original version 29:02, and by 1984, it seems, as the novelty of the techno-culture faded, the band met its final, quiet demise, for the timeline notes ends there. The name was tossed on the slagheap of Gainesville trivia, only to be astonishingly resurrected for the web-history of Gainesville bands on this web-site.
But, as we toss the name, we do not toss the energy, nor commitment and sweat that gave birth to a brief, yet remarkable experience.
29:02, what?s in a name? Everything. Nothing? Hardly. If one looked hard enough, perhaps they would have found a foretelling of an impossible project, and a doomed concept of a band. The name, a result of a photography experiment done from Berkstresser?s state-of-the-art large screen Mistubishi TV, emerged from a series of snapshots of its green, digital on-screen clock--flashing incorrectly--twenty-nine o?clock, two seconds. An unreal time, in strange Florida swamp, twenty years ago.
Sigmar Blau thanks Scott Weinkle and Eric Gould for their kind participation in this article.