James Mastro makes long-awaited debut as solo artist with gem-filled ‘Dawn of a New Error’ album

james mastro debut album



On Feb. 21, Hoboken-based James Mastro will release his poignant and powerful debut solo album, Dawn of a New Error, on MPress Records. An eager audience awaits, including fans who have followed Mastro’s music since he played at Max’s Kansas City and CBGB during the rise of New York’s punk rock scene. By the time he was 18, he had played on Television guitarist Richard Lloyd’s 1979 solo album, Alchemy. A few years later, he became a member of Hoboken’s leading rock band, The Bongos, and in the early ’90s, he fronted the alt-country band The Health & Happiness Show.

In 2001, he joined Mott the Hoople frontman Ian Hunter’s Rant Band. He also appeared on Hunter’s albums, and performed in the Mott the Hoople reunion tour in 2018 and 2019. He has been the secret weapon in The Rant Band, adding just the right textured sound at the right time.

Mastro also is a sought-after touring and session musician. I’ve seen him displaying his blisteringly hot guitar chops for many superb artists, including Patti Smith, Alejandro Escovedo, Garland Jeffreys, Lenny Kaye, Ivan Julian, Rachael Sage, Freedy Johnston and Karyn Kuhl. And now he is center stage with Dawn of a New Error.

It’s a gem — authentic and intense. He creates moody, wistful and wondrous songs, as well as hard-rocking anthems. His emotive guitar shredding and deep, raspy, commanding voice are enhanced, on three songs, by Hunter’s guest vocals. Patti Smith’s bassist (and Mastro’s Health & Happiness Show bandmate) Tony Shanahan produced the album at Weehawken’s Hobo Sound studio, with James Frazee engineering and mixing and Greg Calbi mastering.

Mastro’s contemplative themes are balanced by a humble, humorous style. When he sings, it feels like he is telling us, in a direct yet tender way, a secret that we should have already known. His catchy songs simmer slowly, and show a striking capacity for clever wordplay.



Mastro gives listeners an opportunity to express political outrage with the fierce lead track “Right Words, Wrong Song” (see the video below, featuring Hunter and Tammy Faye Starlite). Mastro sings, “Some claim to walk on the water/Then lead the lambs to the slaughter/They sing the right words to the wrong song.”

He makes the room levitate with the gospel-inspired, hopeful “Someday Someone Will Turn Your Head Around” (featuring Andy Burton, Dave Schramm, Jeremy Chatzky and Ron Metz), which reminds me of Bob Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody.”

Listen to “Never Die” and “Three Words,” two of Mastro’s most stunning, reflective tracks. The former made me cry; the latter features Hunter and Megan Reilly’s elegant backing vocals. “Everywhere” takes us on a mandolin-infused cinematic journey; Mastro sings, “a shape in the fog in Washington Square moves through the trees/I see you everywhere.”

The haunting and thoughtful “My God” (see video below) delivers a much-needed message to place our faith in the power of love and in a God that reveres peace over war, is not gendered, and isn’t championing the “left or right.” Mastro sings:

I guess your God must look like mine
‘Cause God is love and love is blind
I guess my God and yours are one
Just different names under the sun

Shanahan plays bass throughout the album, as well as organ, piano, Mellotron, baritone guitar and harmonium, and provides backing vocals. Drummers include the late Louie Appel (Southside Johnny), Brian Griffin (Brandi Carlile, Black Crowes), Steve Goulding (Graham Parker, The Mekons) and Bill Dubrow (Yoko Ono, Linda Thompson).

The cover of James Mastro’s album, “Dawn of a New Error.”

Mastro will present a record release concert at The Bowery Electric in New York, Feb. 21 at 6:30 p.m. He will be backed by Shanahan on bass, Reilly on guitar and vocals, The Smithereens’ Dennis Diken on drums, and Chris Robertson on guitar. The show also will feature Bedsit Poets, Karyn Kuhl & the Gang, and Christine Smith & Victor Camozzi.

Mastro also will perform at Asbury Park’s Transparent Clinch Gallery, Feb. 24 at 4 p.m. And he will open for Alejandro Escovedo and play in Escovedo’s band’s on Escovedo’s next tour, which will start in April, and include a show at The Bowery Ballroom in New York, April 14.

For information, visit jamesmastro.net or mpressrecords.com.

I talked to Mastro recently about his extraordinary album.

Q: What is the meaning of the album title?

A: Dawn of a New Error serves as a reminder for me of several things. First of all, I haven’t wanted to put anything out all these years because it’s hard. As a bandleader, you often spend more time dealing with the day-to-day managerial role — making sure everyone’s paid, happy, the van has gas, the bass player gets his red M&Ms, the drummer gets his beer. Then you do what you actually want to do, which is enjoy playing music. I’ve really come to enjoy being the sideman these past years; tell me when to show up and I’ll be there 10 minutes early.

With the slowdown of live playing during COVID, I found myself more and more working on my own material, and started to get the itch again to put something out. This could be a mistake, but the title is there to remind me not to take it too seriously.

The other side of it is, over all these years, I’ve learned to embrace my mistakes. Sometimes you learn from them right away; sometimes it takes you three or four times before you get it. But hopefully you do learn from them, and become better for it. It’s the accidental and insignificant things in life that become significant.

Q: Have you enjoyed the process of recording solo after playing for so many impactful artists? Is it an odd feeling?

A: It is an odd feeling. I like being in bands. I like looking over at the singer and trying to guess where they’re going to go. Plus, if you make a mistake, you can always blame it on someone else in the band. Going solo, if I make a mistake, I guess I can blame it on the audience, but I’d be outnumbered if it came to blows.



Q: Your sense of humor and clever wordplay are striking. Has this served you well as a songwriter and as a human?

A: Trying to be clever can be a dangerous thing. Trying to put some poetry into something is more where I lean, and by poetry, I just mean by looking at something from another angle, like a photographer, scientist or a detective would. I want to see the honesty in it. If I can’t believe it, I can’t expect anyone else will, either.

But I think humor serves anyone well — it can diffuse a tense situation, it can sometimes be the best way to expose something that is foul, and it can help you not take yourself too seriously. I take what I do seriously, but it’s no more serious than what a teacher, mailman or plumber does.

Q: Describe your first exposure to music.

A: Seeing The Monkees on TV as a kid was huge for me. I thought — and still think — that Micky Dolenz was one of the best rock singers ever. And living in a house playing guitars all day like they did was an early job calling for me. My older brother John started bringing home rock albums — Creedence Clearwater Revival, Black Sabbath, others — and that was it. We became obsessed. Every Sunday after church we’d go to Two Guys in Dover and spend our paper route money on albums …we devoured them not only listening-wise, but the liner notes and credits. Starting to see the same names pop up on different albums, connecting the dots and thinking maybe we could do that someday.

Music was a big part of TV in the ’60s and ’70s. Seeing Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell, tons of bands on “Midnight Special” or “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert” all had a huge influence on me.

Q: Tell me about the first song you wrote.

A: Before I could play any instruments, I remember telling the other kids in my third-grade class that I’d written whatever song was a hit on the radio at that time. A few years on, after I started guitar and John played drums, we started writing songs. The first song written was called “Spy,” for our band Fast Car: a song about taking the train in from the Jersey burbs into NYC and checking it all out. No Grammy was won.

Q: Was guitar your first love?

A: Julie Newmar as Catwoman was my first love. We broke up. Guitar was my second. Guitar has lasted much longer.



Q: “My God” and “Right Words, Wrong Song” carry a message for me to think beyond dogma and slogans. What do they mean to you?

A: “Seeing past” anything is an art, and one that is required much more these days. We have a generation now that has grown up eating sound bites, hearing only chatter as opposed to in-depth discussion. When fact and science take a back seat to personal opinion, something’s wrong. A little more tolerance and a little more light would not be a bad thing. That could be what those songs are about.

Q: Is it true that Patti Smith encouraged you to work on “My God”? Can you discuss your experiences playing with her and her bandmate and friend Lenny Kaye.

A: I had a rough draft of the lyrics for “My God,” and I’d never really written anything like it before, so it was hard for me to tell if it was OK. Was it too obvious, too preachy? At the time I was writing it, I was called in to fill in on guitar for some dates with Patti, so I had her ear. I sent it to her to see what she thought. She may not even remember doing it now, but her response was the encouragement I needed to finish it.

Patti onstage is ferocious. There is an abandon there that few performers ever achieve. You follow her singing into battle — her voice, her lyrics are the lead guitar, and you’re just there to help her go wherever it decides to go. We hadn’t played together for a while, but did so recently at Lenny’s “Nuggets” show at The City Winery this past summer, and it brought it all back for me. That freedom she has onstage is a lesson to pay attention to.

I first met Lenny when he and Terry Ork were the only folks in the audience at a small club in NYC for my teenage band Fast Car. Lenny cheered us on loudly, and then wrote a small piece on our band for Rock Scene magazine. Patti was on the cover. This endeared us to our female classmates in high school, but not so much the football players.

The first gig I did with Patti was in Athens, Greece, on Lycabettus Hill — the highest point in the city. Being of Greek heritage … ever since I’d been in bands, it was my dream to play there. Here I was walking up a dark, rocky path to the stage, holding Patti’s arm under the guise of my supporting her, but it was really me who needed the propping up. It was an incredibly emotional show on so many levels for me, and that’s what Patti generates.

James Mastro and Tony Shanahan, in a vintage Health & Happiness Show publicity photo.

Q: What was it like stepping out of the producer’s seat and having her other bandmate Tony Shanahan produce your album?

A: Tony and I have worked together consistently over the years since Health & Happiness Show days in the early ’90s. There’s no one I trust more to know and understand where I’m coming from. I also know he’s not afraid to tell me that something can be better. The fact that our record collections are almost identical, and we both like Guinness, helps.

Q: Tell me about “Never Die,” an emotionally riveting tune. I hear Mott’s influence on it and there are references to your parents and uncle, correct?

A: “Never Die” was the last song written for the record. It’s really an amalgam of influences of bands I love from the ’70s — Mott, T. Rex, Bowie, Roxy Music. In the course of one year, I lost both my parents, David Bowie passed, and some other friends also departed, so this had to be channeled somehow. They’re all resounding in that song for me, along with my namesake — my mother’s brother, who died on the last day of WWII. That year, going through my mom’s belongings, I found the telegram from the army informing her family of his death. But I don’t see it as a sad song. As Steve Goulding, the drummer on this track, said, “it’s the happiest song about death I’ve ever heard.”

Q: I recall you said at a show that some men have a difficult time saying “I love you.” Yet in “Three Words” you do it so beautifully, with a rocky edge. Tell me about this song and the use of Megan’s vocals that get bolder each time she sings those wrought words.

A: Clever me: If you notice, it’s not me who says “I love you,” it’s Megan Reilly. I don’t think this song would have made it to the record if it wasn’t for her vocal performance. The way she builds from a coo to a scream by the end of the song is amazing, giving us goosebumps in the studio while she was doing it.

Q: Tell me about the poetic images that take us on your journey in “Everywhere.” It seems like snapshots of a person you’re conjuring. Who are you conjuring?

A: You’re right, snapshots are how I look at this song: a blurry, black & white walk through a foggy dream. They are just images that I saw physically — or mentally. Sometimes you don’t remember which. As far as who it is, I can’t say. The song was written on mandolin. It’s a simple song that called for a simple lyric.

Q: What are the circumstances surrounding the lyrics in “The Face of the Sun?” What was bothering you? Who is your face in the sun?

A: I don’t recall one thing that triggered this. Everyone can see the face on the moon, I just liked the idea of trying to see it in something more blinding. Call it a love song, I guess. Or a plea. Things can get pretty dark sometimes, and we’ve all felt like we’re at the bottom of a hole. Light brings hope.



Q: Was “Here Beside Me,” a dreamy love song, conjured in your sleep? Does this happen often? What’s your songwriting process like?

A: I woke up in the middle of the night singing this song. I knew if I didn’t get up right away to play it, it’d be lost. I recorded it on my phone, went back to sleep, and the next day listened back to the lyrics you hear on the record. This has been happening more frequently lately, which is great, as it frees up my daytime to watch more of the “Housewives” episodes.

Q: Can you describe what it was like to record “Someday Someone Will Turn Your Head Around” with so many of your Hoboken friends?

A: (Former) WFMU DJ Nicholas Hill and Kate Jacobs started the Radio Free Music Club as almost a Grand Ole Opry-style show, hosting different artists to come in and perform. When they asked me to join a segment, I wrote this song knowing that a big cast and crew of some of my friends would be present, so I figured I’d put them to work. They all learned it on the spot, which gave it that loose gospel feel I was looking for.

Q: What’s your experience like serving as a sustained catalyst for the Hoboken music scene?

A: There are so many talented people in this area that inspire and motivate me, so I’m not sure who the catalyst is. It’s a give and take. This scene keeps me in the area, but it’s also allowed me to do well enough to travel, so it’s always a good place to return to. That sounds like a home, doesn’t it?

I recently rented a small little space in Hoboken that we’re calling the 503 Social Club. It was pretty much done for selfish reasons, so that I could hear and see my musician and artist friends’ work up close.

Q: What inspired “Right Words, Wrong Song”? Is it about fake news?

A: It’s getting harder and harder to tell what fake news is. Anyone can find the truth in the media that suits their opinions or beliefs, not what’s actually fact. Watch two different news channels report the same event, and you’ll get two different stories. I was channel surfing the news one day, and that’s what I got, and that’s how this song came to be. My two fave Jersey boys — Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart (sorry Southside Johnny and Bruce) — have deftly been more truthful in their reporting by using humor to show the absurdity and ridiculousness than by what you’ll see on most traditional media outlets.


James Mastro performs with Ian Hunter.

Q: Can you describe Ian Hunter’s involvement on this song and in the video? What was the process of creation like?

A: Having been in the same room with Ian for 20-plus years has had some effect. As I was writing “Right Words,” his voice was constantly in my head, and I knew he would get the sentiment. I sent him a recording of it, told him what I’d like him to do, and he said yes. When the idea for doing the video as a newscast came up, I immediately pictured him as a weatherman. I was quite surprised he agreed to the cameo, seeing that he didn’t partake in his own videos. But I must say he played the role well, and I would believe any weather forecast he predicted.

Q: Describe your experience working with him on the other two songs he sang on.

A: He initially only came to the studio to sing on “Right Words, Wrong Song,” which he did expertly and quickly. When he was done with that, he asked to listen to some other songs. I locked the door, had him listen, and he right away had some great ideas for “Three Words” and “Face of the Sun.” Ian’s gift is always finding a different slant to a song. I always say he zigs when you think he should zag. He brings a wisdom and craft that is very rare.

Q: Does it feel different to work with him on your album than as part of The Rant Band?

A: Ian’s always open to new ideas, and in the studio, he’d give me a lot of free rein to make weird noises on his records. Telling — or in this case, asking — someone who’s been your boss to try something can be intimidating. But right away he knew his role and was there to do his job, which he did with no ego.

Q: Given that you loved Mott as a teen, how did it feel to play with him in The Rant Band and then later in the reunion tour? What would your teenage self say now, watching you perform with him?

A: The first gig I did with Ian in 2000 was supposed to be a one-off. That fact that it turned into not only work but a deep friendship over all these years still boggles the mind of the teenager inside of me. More recently, being a part of the Mott the Hoople reunion was, more than anything, an incredible amount of fun. I’ll admit going into it with trepidation. It’s easy for any kind of reunion to turn into a boring, nostalgic oldies show, and I didn’t want to be a part of that for a band I loved so much. But Ian, Luther Grosvenor and Morgan Fisher not only kicked ass, but made The Rant Band raise their game, and also made us feel like we were part of Mott, not just hired guns.

Q: How did you become a part of The Rant Band?

A: I basically forced myself on Ian. My friend Andy York was hired as bandleader for Ian’s comeback show in 2000. When I heard this, I rang him immediately to offer my services as second guitarist. Andy checked with Ian, who said it wasn’t necessary. After brooding all night, I rang Andy the next day and said you’ll certainly be playing Mott’s “I Wish I Was Your Mother,” which means you’ll need someone to play mandolin. Andy ran it past Ian, who then said, “Yes, tell him to come to tomorrow’s rehearsal.” So now all I had to do was find a mandolin and learn how to play it. I did, and got through the rehearsal and the show. After that, I was invited to join the band.


James Mastro performs with Ian Hunter.

Q: How has Ian influenced your songwriting and performance?

A: He’s the most honest writer and performer I’ve ever worked with; there’s no bullshit allowed. For every verse you hear in a final version of a song, he’s written five additional ones that don’t make the final cut. He’s like a chemist, boiling something down to its purest essence, constantly testing and looking for a new element. Onstage, he’s got a cool, calm swagger and sincerity that’s hard to fake, and he likes it when things get a little chaotic, musically. Leading by example is probably the biggest benefit I’ve walked away with after all these years with him.

Q: What musical influences do you hear on the album?

A: I’ve been lucky enough to work with many of the performers that inspired me to play in the first place, so they’re all going to be in the melting pot. But also, every musician that worked on this record influenced it in some way.

Q: Who motivated you to play over the years, other than Mott?

A: Throw in equal parts Howlin’ Wolf, David Bowie, Hank Williams, Television and The Ramones, and you’ve got a pretty good cocktail I’ll drink before going onstage.

Q: Describe your experience working with John Cale, The Jayhawks and others who have influenced you.

A: Some of the most riveting, exciting — and sometimes terrifying — shows I saw at CBGB and other area clubs back in the day was John Cale. He always had amazing bands, and you had this crazy Welshman centerstage who could switch between devastating rock chaos to some of the most beautiful ballads you’ll ever hear. I can’t name any of my musician friends who aren’t Cale and Velvet Underground fans.

I toured Europe with John in 2003, and it was one of the most musically satisfying and exhausting things I’ve ever been a part of. Every night he would deconstruct his songs, so we were often flying by the seat of our pants. Not jazz, but exploratory and always going somewhere else. He’s a true artist that taught me that the only thing sacred is not holding anything sacred.

For an instrument that I don’t think I play that well, the mandolin has opened some doors for me. In the ’90s, Health & Happiness Show did some shows with The Jayhawks and Golden Smog (members of Wilco and the ‘Hawks) and I became friendly with Gary Louris. Fast forward a few years where Ian and I were in Los Angeles to do an appearance as a duo on “The Late Late Show.” I ran into Gary at a club the night before and asked him to join us for the show. He sings and plays so well … I knew Ian would love him. We did it and had a great time. I guess after that Gary felt like he owed me one, so he asked me to sit in on mandolin on some Jayhawks shows, which I’ll do every once in a while. I love that band.

James Mastro played on Richard Lloyd’s 1979 album, “Alchemy.”

Q: Can you describe those early pre-Bongo days with Richard Lloyd at CBGB?

A: I can’t believe my parents would let 17-year-old me take their car into NYC to play a weekend in the Lower East Side. That area was like the Wild West then — junkies and dealers hanging out with the posh art scene crowd. Anything went. I was more of an observer then, and often what I saw was a great lesson in what not to do. Somehow I survived when there were times I shouldn’t have.

I really learned how to play guitar from Richard. He was a great teacher in that he not only showed me how to play something, but more importantly, how to feel something. He’s known as an amazing lead guitarist, but he’s one of the best rhythm guitarists I’ve ever seen — right there with Keith Richards — and that’s what he was trying to share with me.

Q: Did your parents want you to pursue a more traditional route? Was a non-music career ever a thought for you? You could still try law school.

A: I knew what I wanted to do, and my parents just couldn’t believe I wasn’t going to college. It took them decades to realize that I wasn’t going to change my mind. Law school sounds more sketchy to me than hanging out in clubs; lawyers are a dangerous lot.

Q: What were you hoping to find when you drove into the city to hang out at CBGB?

A: My friends at school were heavy into The Allman Brothers, Yes, Peter Frampton. Our band sounded nothing like that. We first started reading about these strange bands based around this hub of a dive bar called CBGB, and realized we weren’t alone in trying to do what we were doing, we were just in the wrong place. We were looking for a place that felt like home. For whatever reason, that filthy club was it.

I went to the final show at CB’s, which was Patti in October 2006. Now, there are certainly a lot of people who spent more time there, and who are responsible for it having its legendary status. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Me and Tony were the last people in the room, sitting at the barstool I used to favor, with just a huge feeling of regret for what was ending, but gratitude for what it had started in me.


The Bongos in the ’80s (from left, James Mastro, Richard Barone, Frank Giannini and Rob Norris).

Q: When did you move to Hoboken and what was the ’80s scene there like for you?

A: I moved to Hoboken after I finished high school, so early 1980. Maxwell’s was a magical place. Just like CB’s had owner Hilly Kristal to thank for fostering so many bands, Maxwell’s had owner Steve Fallon championing local acts. He even fed you if you were playing that night, which was unheard of back then. You treat musicians well, and the word gets out; that’s why everyone around the world wanted to play there. The staff were all hilarious and characters in their own right, which just added to the circus atmosphere.

Every Bongos show was an event there — fun gigs that ended with parties until dawn. I lived above Maxwell’s for a couple years. It shortened my daily commute.

Q: What’s the story behind the formation of The Health & Happiness Show? Any reunion shows possible?

A: After I left The Bongos, I had a band called Strange Cave that included future E Street member, violinist Soozie Tyrell. We had every major record company courting us, promising us things, but nothing came of it. It was disillusioning because it dawned on me that I was trying too hard to be a part of the “music business,” two words that I realized should never be next to each other. The joy was taken out of the music for me because of the business.

I took some time off to recharge. My dear friend and great drummer Vinny DeNunzio, who I played with in The Richard Lloyd Group, came over one day with a six-pack of beer and we sat around the kitchen table singing Hank Williams songs. We had a blast, and started doing it on a weekly basis. Other friends started joining in — my neighbor Graham Maby (Joe Jackson’s long-standing bass player) being one of them. We were having a ball, and playing and singing for the pure joy of it. I started writing again, and started slipping my songs in between some of the Hank songs we were playing. Without planning it, I looked around that kitchen table and saw a band.

I booked a show without telling them, and then a week before the next get-together told them to meet at this club in New York instead of my house. I didn’t know if any of them would show up, but they all did, and we had a great time. Birth of Health & Happiness Show.

We made three albums and toured a lot for 10 years. And they were a good 10 years. We ended on a high note, and have done — and will continue to do — a show, if it’s for the right reasons. I’ll let them know and see who shows up.

Q: You’ve performed with or produced so many talented musicians. Who is left that you’d dream of playing with?

A: There’s a lot of talk about this guy Bob Dylan, that I’m curious about. Same goes for Bryan Ferry. I’d certainly pick up a call from PJ Harvey, Valerie June, Nick Cave.

Q: So many artists have passed over the past few years. Whose departure had a big impact on you?

A: Bowie’s affected me, and so many I know. He was doing such great work to the end. One that really was an unexpected hurt was Ian McLagan, keyboard player for The Faces. We’d met a few times over the years, and I did play with him once. He had the gift of making you feel like you’d known him for years — hysterical, smart and played on some of my favorite songs ever. He was just a rare light.


Q: Can you list the ingredients needed to have good band relations? Diplomacy, listening and compromise?

A: Democracy is often the intention of a band, but it rarely works. There is always going to be someone who has to lead a bit more than the others. So it’s understanding that, but also balancing it by saying something in a decent manner if you disagree with something, instead of bashing a beer bottle over a head. Any relationship is about compromise. You just have to share a common goal, and keep reminding yourself about it.

Q: What does rock ‘n’ roll do for you now that you’re not in your 20s anymore? Does it take up a different or similar space than the past?

A: It does the same for me now as it did for me then, if not more. The fact that a certain song can instantly time travel you back or forwards to a place is a magical thing. I’ve never found anything else that can do that without causing a loss of brain or liver cells.

Q: Other than waking up to find a message for a gig request from Dylan, what does the perfect day look like to you?

A: Look, if I wake up in the morning, I’m already winning. I’m gonna have a cup of coffee and read something. I’m going to turn on the radio and listen for a song to come on that will set the tone for my day. My dog is going to take me for a walk, and I’ll try and look at things the way he does.

Q: What’s next? Should your audience-in-waiting expect to hear new songs on another album?

A: New songs are always in the works. And if this venture doesn’t turn out to be too big a mistake, then yes, there will be another album of sad songs presented in an upbeat and cheerful manner. In between, I do plan on working on a guitar instrumental record.


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