Dead men walking
In 1986, Letchen Grey were the Sunset Strip’s hottest tip – until their rise was halted by cancer and cruel fate. Three decades later, the survivors tell us about the new music that makes peace with their past.
Words: Henry Yates
On the office desk of his Arizona home, Alan Niven has two objects that chronicle the rise and fall of the Sunset Strip’s great forgotten band. The first is a scrappy page of gig listings for the Troubadour club, torn from BAM magazine back in April April ’86. “In mid-week, in tiny print, there’s a band called Guns N’ Roses,” notes the veteran manager and producer. “But on the Friday night, billed in much larger print, there’s Letchen Grey.”
The second object pulls you up short. It’s a mirrored box, holding the ashes of Frank Surber, the guitarist who seemed destined to lead Letchen Grey to glory, but succumbed to an agonising death from cancer while still a footnote. Niven sighs. “This band got dealt a motherfucker of a hand.”
All this might be just another sorry case of the Strip’s unique capacity to steal dreams and break good men, were it not for the improbable twist that, three decades later, Letchen Grey live again. They are led by classic-era members Mark Andersen (rhythm guitar) and Eric Asevo (vocals/bass). The three new songs produced by Niven and Chris Catero this April are strong in their own right, especially the moody and propulsive Burn. “Los Angeles is the flame,” explains Andersen. “People come out here, get too close and get burnt.”