Oct. 21, 1972: A band called Together
A band with a five-year plan. Did it work? See the Footnote:
Oct. 21, 1972
Together’s in Harmony
Both On and Off Stage
“WE’VE GOT SEVEN guys now who really get along,” Ed Schmidt says over the phone a
couple weeks ago. “This band ought to stay together for the next five years.”
It took a year for Together to get with it that way. There
were the usual problems – too many players (13 at one point), mismatched
musical tastes (one guy wanted to do Zager & Evans with horns) and just
plain bad attitudes.
“We had guys who didn’t show up for practice,” recalls Jim
Borkman, the group’s guitarist, “or who’d miss a job because they had a date.
The attitude now is good. Everybody now is really into it.”
“Everybody now is a personal friend too,” Mike Binis, the
bass guitarist, observes.
“I think it’s made a big difference in the band, going out
and partying together,” says Ed Schmidt.
* * *
THE
It takes a little time for the Good Times to pick up speed.
Halfway through the first set, somewhere around “Evil Woman,” Together’s
cooking nicely, but the crowd’s mostly inert except for some dancers in one
corner.
Best place to avoid the gym echo is behind the PA console in
front of the band, where equipment man Jeff Roth keeps an ear open for feedback
and burly compatriot Mark Schneider (“the human forklift”) stands ready to
pounce on any fouled-up piece of equipment.
Ed Schmidt sings an urgent middleweight growl and moves a bit
like a mellowed-out Joe Cocker, bending backwards from the hips. He cracks a
joke about interdigitation – that’s holding hands, folks – and urges the single
guys and single girls to dance with each other.
And up front are the horn men, Al Kyriakides and Dan
Schaefer, who avoid the stiff clockwork bopping of most brass sections by
staying generally loose.
* * *
THEY SING
and do rhythm instruments as well, but most of the time (19 of 27 songs this
night), they’re wailing. Even on a normally non-brass song like Alice Cooper’s
“School’s Out.” Al works out the horn parts, teaches them to Dan.
Mike Binis’ bass booms underneath them, while guitarist Jim
Borkman, despite being a lead performer, blends into the general sound as much
as organist Mike Bucki and drummer Kris Banzhaf, who gets a lot of unwanted
attention from the Donny Osmond fans.
“This second set ought to bring them around,” Ed Schmidt says
in the locker room during the first break. “We start off with a couple of
It’s a powerful combination and a few more dancers
materialize over in the corner, but inertia’s still got most of the crowd.
Later somebody asks if they’ll do some
“Well, do one again,” the kid says. “I wasn’t listening.”
The breakthrough came during the summer. A combination of
things encouraged it – paring down the group to a dedicated core, casting off
90 percent of their old songs and picking up a few tips from Kris’ older
brother, a guitarist for the
“He told us about getting the push,” Jim Borkman relates.
“Now we’ve got more dynamics. We’re trying to punch the music. It’s like
getting mad at your instruments and you hit them harder and you can really push
it.”
They’ve gotten to try their new techniques at a couple Sunday
afternoon free concerts sponsored by a friendly delicatessen owner in
“Pembroke was crazy,” Mike Binis grins. “There were about 40
girls standing there with their mouths open. It was like something you dream
about.”
* * *
NOT SO LONG
ago, Together was hanging out at high school dances themselves, and their
memories help them put together their sets now.
They favor short breaks, quick transitions from song to song,
plenty of bouncing around on stage and a policy of choosing “the best from the
best” – the best material from the best groups. Even a few out-of-the-way
things like “Clown” by Flock and an Illinois Speed Press number.
“If you’re playing good music, then people that wanta listen
can listen,” Ed says, “and people who wanta dance can dance to it. At a dance,
they mostly wanta see seven guys go crazy. To a degree, they want it good, but
most of them just want it loud.”
* * *
IT’S A PLEASANT
prospect, everybody agrees at Tuesday night practice, the thought of spending
the next five years together in Together, partying, skiing and all.
By then, the three pre-med students will be ready to become
doctors. Or musicians. And they should be done with the draft, for which two of
them now hold low lottery numbers.
Touring is out for another year and a half – Jim has that far
to go on his alternative service as a conscientious objector – and so is
playing clubs – Kris is too young.
Meanwhile, they’re looking for someone to help them get jobs.
Ed and Mike Binis drove around to high schools earlier this fall and lined up a
few – like the one next Friday at Kenmore West – but they’d like more.
Ed also would like to challenge a few of the better-known
local bands to battle.
“I put a rap on most bands,” he concedes, “when I know they aren’t doing justice to their audiences or to their names. If this band starts to slack off, I won’t stay around.”
The box/sidebar
Pared Down to Seven
At one time Together assembled as many as 13 players on stage
– six horns, three lead singers – but over the summer, the group pared itself
down to seven.
They line up like this:
Ed Schmidt, 20, vocals,
Jim Borkman, 20, guitar and vocals,
Mike Binis, 19, bass guitar,
Al Kyriakides, 19, trumpet and vocals,
Dan Schaefer, 19, trombone and vocals,
Mike Bucki, 19, organ and vocals,
Kris Banzhaf, 15, drums, sophomore at Clarence High.
Most recent additions are Al, who rejoined last summer after
a year at
* * *
FOR KRIS,
it’s his first serious group. Dan played with a group called Brase before
meeting Mike Binis a year ago at St. Joe’s. And Al was in one of the two
informal Clarence High groups that merged to form Together in May 1971.
Al and Mike Binis were in one of the groups, which stayed
together after getting compliments for an impromptu jam on the school stage.
Ed, who sang folk under the name of Fred Mayo, formed a duo
called Jamn after meeting Jim, who’d played with small bands in high school and
always wanted to get another group going. Mike Bucki knew Jim.
* * *
A MEMBER of
the original band, now departed, suggested taking a name from Grand Funk
Railroard’s song “Git It Together,” except he wanted to call the group Git It.
“After that,” says Ed Schmidt, “there was ‘Together’ by Chuck
Mangione, then Together lipstick, Together underarm spray and the movie,
‘Together.’
“When Weekend came out with the song ‘Together,’ we figured
we had to do something, so we wrote a slow ballad called ‘Weekend’ by
Together.”
* * * * *
IN THE PHOTO:
From left, on floor, Jim Borkman and Dan Schaefer; seated, Mike Bucki and Kris
Banzhaf; and standing, Ed Schmidt, Mike Binis and Al Kyriakides.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE: Internet searches turn up more questions
than answers, but with interesting possibilities.
First, an answer. Since his name is so unusual, I’m
pretty sure trumpeter Al Kyriakides plays that instrument for a wedding and
party band called Flashback in
Another answer comes from Kris Banzhaf, whose Facebook
page said he went to Clarence High School and then to Eastman School of Music,
where he got a bachelor’s degree in applied percussion and performance.
He lives in
And now the questions. Is keyboardist Mike Bucki
really the Moog synthesizer technician who for many years was on the only guy
who could rebuild and repair Moogs with original parts? If so, he had a shop in
And is bass guitarist Mike Binis the bearded guy I see
on LinkedIn who lives in
Colorful dude, this Mike Binis on LinkedIn. He did
eight years in production at WBEN AM and FM in Buffalo, then went to NZ in
1988, worked at radio stations and a recording studio, ran a bar in Auckland
for four years, was a TV news presenter and did 10 years as a “concierge” at
Urge Bar in Auckland, a job he describes as “‘Bouncer’ at Auckland’s longest
running Gay bar for Bears and Leathermen.”
Still another sighting on LinkedIn is guitarist Jim
Borkman. If this is the same Jim Borkman, he got a job at Praxair in 1974,
became general manager and retired in 2013.
Trombonist Dan Schaefer, meanwhile, seems to have
become a doctor after all. I’m 99 percent convinced he is Dr. Daniel P.
Schaefer, longtime chief of ophthalmology at what used to be
Credentials
seem right – biology degree from Canisius College, 1981 graduate from UB
Medical School and his many honors include some from St. Joseph’s Collegiate
Institute. He’s a past president of the American Society of Ophthalmic Plastic
and Reconstructive Surgery and has lectured, taught and provided medical
services around the world.
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