GET LOST

Scott Dixon is known for putting the Syracuse music scene before himself.

He grew up within walking distance of the Lost Horizon, where he would take over managing and booking in June 2009. Prior to that, he graduated with a bachelor’s degree in marketing from Empire State College in 1995 and worked his way up the Syracuse scene by booking bands throughout the area and making his presence known on the airwaves at 105 The Dog {WWDG-FM 105.1, now country station WOLF} as DXN. 

The abbreviation came with the online message board explosion of the early 2000s as a more convenient way to spell out “Dixon” and it’s kept ever since. “It stuck I think because hardcore kids like X’s,” he says with a laugh. 

But early in 2011 he started getting sick about once a month. He would wake up in the middle of the night, throw up violently for hours, pass out, wake up and go about his day. The episodes started getting closer together and on July 14, 2011, Dixon experienced the worst yet, leaving him in the most incredible pain of his life. He finally broke down and called the doctor, something he had avoided vehemently. 

“My first thought was if you don’t go to the hospital right now, you’re probably going to die,” a candid Dixon says with his low, scratchy voice through his thick black beard. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t have a lot of other memories of that first week or so. A lot of drugs.”

As Dixon understands it, his gallbladder had basically died inside of him. It was full of gallstones that had backed up into his pancreas and esophagus and basically stopped everything else from functioning properly. But even after the initial problem had been addressed, further complications kept Dixon in St. Joseph’s Hospital for three months, and bound to his recliner for the next two. 

Nearly a year later, Dixon, 38, is several belt sizes smaller and 140 pounds lighter (and that’s saying something on his 5-foot-8 frame), and says he feels fantastic. He’s back working at the Lost, 5863 Thompson Road (see accompanying story, page 24) and recently took on the task of becoming the official “night guy” at WAQX-FM 95.7 (95X). His shifts are Mondays through Fridays, 7 p.m. to midnight, as well as Saturdays, 1 to 5 p.m., and Sundays, 1 to 6 p.m. 

“I’m on seven days a week,” he emphasizes. “I’m getting sick of myself.”

With his sharp sense of humor still intact, the native Syracusan unloaded to The New Times about the Lost, supporting local music, dealing with sickness and regaining his faith in radio. 

Q: When did you first get into music?

A: I was 5 or 6. I had a little portable record player that would go with me everywhere and a little box of seven inches, called 45s back then. I wouldn’t go anywhere without music.

Q: Your first albums were . . .

A: Mothership Connection (Casablanca) by Parliament-Funkadelic and Innervisions (Motown) by Stevie Wonder. And then the third record I owned was Kiss’ Alive II (Casablanca). I was listening to a lot of old funk and soul, rhythm’n’blues and a lot of Motown, and then I found this Kiss record and there was sort of this element of danger that circled around the whole thing with the fire-breathing and the makeup and the fake blood. It was about 1985 or 1986, I remember being on a field trip and seeing the album Freaky Styley (EMI) by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and then it grew and grew. I was never super-picky. As long as it was good, I liked it. 

Q: Did you play music? 

A: I sang. I was in bands called Embalming Fluid and Abortion in high school. They were all relatively dark metal bands. 

Q: Did you plan to have a career in the music industry?

A: I didn’t really have one {a plan}. I got out of college {in 1995} expecting the job market would be wide open and at the time I was working at Fay’s Drugstore and I was doing loss prevention and I was making a pretty decent living doing it so I was like, “I’ll do this until the well runs dry.” And then I got laid off. And during that time off, my musician friends started coming around with questions and I was like, “I might as well just do this and help people out.” That’s kinda where it started. 

Q: Where did you start booking?

A: It was called 7th Venue, which is where Bridge Street Music Hall {6815 Manlius Center Road, East Syracuse} was. It was a strip club that did live music every once in a while. It was bad. It wasn’t fun. It was creepy and weird. So I ended up moving in September of 1995 doing Sunday nights at Styleen’s Rhythm Palace {now Benjamin’s on Franklin, in Armory Square} and that’s where the ball really got rolling. 

Q: You started at Styleen’s but had you thought of working at the Lost Horizon?

A: A lot of the stuff I did was a little more indie rock, less mainstream, more intimate. It didn’t really fit what was going on at the Lost Horizon at the time. It was a lot of these big, heavier shows and a lot of the stuff I was concentrating on was more along the lines of the true indie rock of the 1990s: real, straightforward, pop-oriented indie rock, bands like Sugarhigh and Misanthrope that weren’t really getting a fair shake. And the indie rock seemed to go over really well with the venue downtown because it seemed to attract a younger, hipper crowd and this is the music those kids really seemed to dig. So, for the heavier stuff I was using the Starlight Ballroom {now King of Clubs, 404 S. Clinton St.}, and I’d have shows in both rooms. I was constantly walking back and forth but it was two completely different crowds and both would be doing fantastic. 

Q: Were you familiar with the Lost at that point?

A: I grew up in the Lost. My first show I was 13 and I went to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers with about 15 other people on a random weeknight for $7. Snuck out of my house, walked there, got to the door and they were like, “Eh, you’re a little young,” and I was like, “Eh, I got seven bucks.” They let me in and I got to see the show and that’s where I met Greg {Italiano, now-deceased owner of the Lost} and from then on it was always welcoming. Open arms. 

Q: Then what?

A: New owners came in around 2000 {to Styleen’s} and things did not work out. When that ended, I kinda bounced around a little bit. Did a lot of stuff at Planet 505 {now Metro Lounge & Café, on Westcott Street} and things randomly and sporadically at Lost Horizon, Westcott Community Center, Bridge Street Music Hall. And then in fall of 2003 I started working at ClearChannel radio doing specialty radio for 105 The Dog. But that ended in August of 2006. Not the most pleasant experience because it’s ClearChannel. And then I didn’t really do anything for a while. 

I started booking shows again. I took over managing and booking at the Lost in June of 2009. It wasn’t something I was looking to do because Brian Edwards was doing it at the time and when he approached me about taking it over I was super-hesitant because of our relationship {as good friends}. But if I didn’t do it then nobody was going to and there’s one less venue for local bands to play at. And at the time there weren’t a whole lot of venues. So I put the scene ahead of myself, like I have a tendency to do, and just went for it. 

Q: How did things change when Greg passed away in May 2010?

A: Things got a little weird. He was always there. He was the face you connected to when you were there, so we were all kind of like, “Do we go on without him?” But his family really wanted to in his honor and I had that same feeling. We struggled through that summer and went just about a full year and then realized that there’s a lot of competition and if we want to compete we need to update the facility and made it what it is in there today. We did the remodel Labor Day weekend 2010. We reopened that first weekend in September and here we are. 

Q: How did Greg shape who you are?

A: Greg was always like that older uncle that you knew just from being around; I loved Greg. A lot of the things he did are completely different than what I do, but again, I met him when I was very young, saw him on occasion, and didn’t reconnect with him until much later. So coming back to Greg was like, “Hey man, I was out learning how to do this and let’s apply it here.” He was appreciative of that. He never had a bad word. He loved music. He loved chick singers. All the local bands with girl lead singers, he would always encourage me to rebook whether they drew or not. He loved it. 

Looking back and remembering how much fun he really genuinely had with these shows, and he was 15 to 20 years older than me, just made me realize—maybe I’m not going to outgrow this and decide to go sit in a cubicle with a shirt and tie on. That was sort of the inspiration of staying there and continuing through it and a big part of why I’m doing it again now after being pretty catastrophically sick for a while.

Q: In a nutshell, what was being that sick like?

A: It sucked. I joke all the time about being the old guy or whatever, but it kinda messes with your head when you’re dealing with your own mortality at the age of 38. I had just turned 38 {on July 3} and I spent my entire summer and most of the fall in the hospital being told, “We don’t know what’s going on.” And of course you assume the worst and with the amount of drugs I was on. . . it was just a haze of not sleeping and being in pain and not knowing what was going on. It was really, really rough. 

Q: There was a benefit for you last September. Did you attend and how much did it help you along, mentally and financially?

A: I was there. I got out of the hospital the day before, again, very drugged up. It was a rough night for me because it was the first time I had seen a lot of people in a really long time. I picked everybody that played, which made it that much more amazing. We raised quite a bit of money. It was needed and I appreciated it, but it didn’t put the slightest dent in the amount of money I owe {in hospital bills}. But yeah, as much as I hate the year 2011 and everything that went down, that was a highlight. Being able to be around all my friends in one night and see the bands that I had been wanting to see for so long—reconnecting with everyone was amazing. 

Q: You started working again at the Lost in January, correct?

A: Slowly. I was nervous about taking on any sort of anything. I just didn’t want to make myself sick again. That’s the thing—physically, I’m very healthy. This is the smallest I’ve been since the eighth grade, so I’m pretty stoked about that. I’m not stoked about the way it went down. It’s just the mental side of it. I constantly worry about everything and if it’s going to contribute to me getting sick again because I refuse to go back to the hospital. I know that’s a dumb thing to say out loud, but I just couldn’t psychologically stand having to spend another night in the hospital. So if it’s like, “Oh, should I eat that? No, I’ll just stick to saltines today.” 

Q: Is your diet restricted?

A: It’s not, but I’m just so paranoid about potentially making myself sick again, I don’t take any chances. I’m not allowed to drink alcohol anymore though. 

Q: What’s the biggest challenge in the industry for you right now?

A: Technology is a bitch right now. These younger kids are being lazier and lazier as time goes on because they don’t have to leave their computer chair to see their favorite bands and I really feel that’s why the concert business is down. Why all business as it pertains to music is down. Because of the access. 

Q: How is it working with local bands? Are most cool? 

A: Most of the bands I book are very friendly, nice, outgoing, contributing members of the scene. And every once in a while one will sneak through and it makes you wonder, “Where did this ego come from? Where did this sense of entitlement come from?” And you just don’t book ’em again. So if you’re one of those bands that only got one show, you should probably realize you did something wrong. 

With national acts, it can go either way. They’re either going to be super-nice and super-accommodating or they’re going to be Josey Scott from Saliva, and I have no problem calling that dude out because he is a turd. For me, if you want to abuse me and my staff all day, that’s cool, it’s happened before. But if people are paying $20 or more to see your band, be nice. You can be as mean to me as you like because I’m just gonna suck it up and deal with it, I’ll probably never deal with you again and I’ll talk a bunch of shit about you after you’re gone. But it bothered me to stand there and watch him be standoffish to people who were genuinely excited to meet him. And that happens far more frequently than you would expect it would. 

But by the same token, there’s been the exact opposite. Lights {who played in January} went out and took pictures and met fans before the show. I didn’t expect that. But when it happens, it makes you happy. 

Q: Have you crowd-surfed?

A: In my younger days. Not anymore. I’m too big, I’m too old and I don’t feel like getting hurt. 

Q: How’s your hearing?

A: We used to rehearse in 12-by-12-foot rooms without earplugs, so my ears are (knocks on wood) not that bad considering the amount of damage they have probably taken, to be perfectly honest. I just don’t like things stuffed in my ears. It creeps me out. And part of it, too, I don’t like not being able to feel the band. If I go to a concert I want to get kicked in the stomach by the bottom end. I don’t want it filtered through these foam things that stick out of my ears and make me look stupid.

Q: Since joining 95X, has your attitude toward radio changed? 

A: My previous radio job really soured me on the industry. It was my first radio gig, my only radio gig, so for me it was a situation where—if that’s all you know—that’s your perception of it. So the time that I spent over there was relatively miserable and it showed me the absolute worst of how people can be in this industry and it did really make me want to never do it again. And then coming over here and meeting Hunter and Joe D. {95X deejays} and seeing that there are people who have a passion for it and truly care about the history and legacy of terrestrial radio just re-inspired me to get behind it again. 

Q: What do you want to give back to Syracuse?

A: I feel this town is completely devoid of any real art and I feel that this {booking acts, supporting the scene} is my contribution to it. I feel this city does not support its arts and I feel like the easiest way to go about making a town that doesn’t care, care, is by giving them something as easily disposable as music. It’s truthfully the most easily connectable art to a mass population. And if you can find bands that can connect because they’re catchy or a certain instrumentation—that’s what I want to do. I want a band to break from Syracuse. Until that level of success gets reached for a band from Syracuse, I’m not gonna be satisfied. 

I can honestly say in 20 years of doing this there haven’t been more good bands going on at one time than there are right now, but support is at an almost all-time low. It makes no sense to me, that I can name 10 to 12 bands off the top of my head without thinking about it that are better than 10 or 12 bands playing on any radio station.

Q: What would you like people to know about Scott Dixon?

A: I wear everything right on my sleeve. I support who I support and I don’t apologize for it. I like what I like and the people that treat me the way I treat them are the people I’m going to go out and continue to help. There are just as many people that hate me that like me. I don’t have a problem with that in any way, shape or form. But nobody can say I did wrong by the music scene. 

So if you dislike me because I don’t book your band enough or at all—you can hate me all you want. What I do is not some elitist thing that somebody in my family gave to me. I earned this. I’ve been doing it for 20 years. So anybody that has anything negative to say—just reach into your pocket and pull out all the money  you have and put it on the line for whatever it is that you believe in, because I do it just about every weekend.    

Rebel with a cause:
Scott Dixon spits lyrics of revolution with his Rage Against the Machine tribute band Township Rebellion
Friday, May 4, at the Lost (right) and spits talk about tunes as “night guy” deejay at WAQX-FM 95.7 (95X) (below).

On the Horizon

One sub-zero January night in 1996, following three equipment failures, heavy metal rocker Marilyn Manson shouted at the 400 people who had gathered to hear him play at the Lost Horizon, Syracuse’s oldest and most venerated music club, to “tear the place up.” They listened. Crowd-surfing revelers ripped down ceiling tiles and flung them across the room, hitting other concert-goers and even Manson himself. The band angrily stalked off the stage, cutting the show short and leaving the shortchanged audience and overwhelmed security guards in an ugly mood. 

The Manson show is hardly the only instance of rioting that has taken place at the Lost. Over the past 40 years, police regularly attended shows at 5863 Thompson Road, a baseball’s throw from Erie Boulevard East. Since the 1960s, hardcore and punk acts like Iggy Pop, Black Flag and Fugazi repelled cookie-cutter crowds. Patrons were fully expected to emerge with their ears ringing and covered with dust, sweat and a collection of bruises. Assault and harassment charges, allegations of drug use and underage drinking, caused police to frequent the venue throughout the late 1980s and early 1990s. 

Although the Lost holds a reputation as a hardcore venue, it has lost its seedy side. Instead, it is recognized as a revolutionary monument to the Syracuse music scene. The Lost Horizon has had three name changes, endured multiple renovations, and hosted countless national and local acts since it opened its doors in the 1960s. One thing has remained the same: its devotion to promoting local artists and quality rock’n’roll.

The Lost’s story begins in 1969, when the Italiano family began running the club. It was originally known as Wanda’s and, with its proximity to Le Moyne College, frequented by that school’s students. A new moniker, The Yellow Balloon, immediately followed in 1970, until 1975 renovations transformed the building into a discotheque called the Lost Horizon. Then, with the emergence of punk and power pop, the Lost reverted to a live-music venue in 1980. This hasn’t changed much in 30 years, but the building itself has received many a facelift. 

In 1999, the Lost was in desperate need of repair. A painted sunset, added during the 1975 renovation, had devolved into a murky brown, giving the place a dungeon-like feeling. The bathrooms had become scarier than some of the hard-rock bands the place regularly hosted. Greg Italiano convinced his father to replace the roof, paint the walls white and make the bathrooms more habitable. 

After hosting bands into the new millennium, Italiano decided to take the venue in a different direction. He leased the building to new management in 2002, painted the walls baby blue and renamed it 32 Degrees and, in 2004, Club Tundra. The new look was a flop—pastels and rock don’t mix—and Club Tundra closed its doors at a New Year’s Eve show in 2005. Italiano applied yet another coat of paint (and new plumbing) and changed the club’s name back to the Lost Horizon. The venue’s regulars, brimming with nostalgia from the 1980s hardcore shows, highly anticipated the April 2008 reopening.  

Fast-forward to May 2010. Co-managers John Hanus and Scott Dixon decided that the venue again needed a fresh faade and focus. This time, the renovations were largely motivated in reverence to Italiano, who had died suddenly of a heart attack on May 17, 2010. “He was such a welcoming individual, especially to bands and promoters,” says Dixon. “We wanted to honor that.”

Italiano was posthumously inducted into the Syracuse Area Music Awards (Sammys) Hall of Fame in October 2010. During the same ceremony honoring the local music scene, the Lost Horizon won the People’s Choice award for the best live music venue.

The Lost’s appearance now more closely resembles what it looked like in the late 1960s. Upon crossing the threshold, a portrait of the late Italiano greets patrons before they step into the refurbished bar area. The double-sided, wrap-around bar setup conveniently splits the venue in two. The side closest to the entrance is used for hosting local bands, intimate acoustic acts and smaller national acts. Straight ahead is the original Yellow Balloon stage, slightly raised above the newly installed hardwood floors. 

Hundreds of 8-by-10 photographs feature famous musicians including a big-suited David Byrne, Bruce Springsteen and Keith Richards; alas, none of those three played there. (See a partial list of those who have performed at the Lost at right.) The images are jauntily situated above and around small booths, which are tucked away in alcoves across the entrance side of the bar. This theme of framed musicians and cozy seating continues down the stage and to the opposite side of the venue, where the black main stage takes prominence. Huge stacks of speakers line either side of the platform where nationally acclaimed acts like New Found Glory, The Wonder Years and The Ready Set have appeared. 

A few historical elements of the Lost remain the same, like the dressing room. Thousands of autographs are scrawled on the pink-hued walls, including Kid Rock’s. The architectural legend of the Lost, however—an eight-foot support pole that once stood in the center of the main stage—no longer stands. The pole was one of the most noted items by touring bands that traveled to Syracuse and often mentioned it during interviews. The origin of the pole is a mystery, although many believe it was a relic from the club’s disco days. 

Visiting acts either regarded the mythical pole as a distraction or used it enthusiastically as a prop. Jon Bon Jovi refused to return because of the difficulty of performing around the pole. In contrast, Henry Rollins of Black Flag fame professed his love for it, climbing and swinging from it while performing. Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedys feigned crucifixion on it and Twisted Sister painted it pink. Despite the pole’s ardent fan base, it was removed in 1992. 

With the Lost’s new look also comes a new clientele. While most of the acts are still in the 18-and-older, hardcore genre, about 40 percent of performances are all-ages friendly. Indie rock outfits like Polar Bear Club and acoustic jam bands now frequent the Lost, catering to wider audiences. Amid the mohawk- and leather-donned adults who attend shows are 14- and 15-year-olds sometimes wearing jackets emblazoned with the insignias of the famous bands that played there in years past. 

One local musician who frequents the main stage is Charles Spataro, 23. Spataro beat his dad in golf one day and received a drum set as a prize. Now he plays bass for Damaged in Transit and works as a tattoo artist at Resurrected Tattoo, 125 W. Fayette St. Prior to DiT, Spataro played shows at the Lost as drummer of the Black Lockets for about two years, and he has noticed an increased variety in clientele since the renovations. 

“It had this heavy metal stigma, and not everyone likes that kind of music or knows those bands,” says Spataro. “Before the renovations {the Lost} was kind of dumpy despite the cool rock’n’roll vibe. Now it’s a place you want to go to.”

—Samara Napolitan

Timeline for a Lost legacy: Clockwise from above, everyone knew where to find the Yellow Balloon in the 1970s; a sedate crowd welcomes Earth Crisis during a 1995 hardcore meltdown; music promoter Dick Fuller takes five in the club’s graffiti-adorned dressing room; singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega in an early-career performance; and a warm welcome from Greg Italiano, the Lost Horizon’s late, legendary owner, circa 1987.

The Lost List

Check out just some of the bands that have played the Lost Horizon over the decades:

Guns N’ Roses

Soundgarden

Faith No More

Red Hot Chili Peppers

Korn

Deftones

Kid Rock

Fugazi

Helmet

Quicksand

Hatebreed

Earth Crisis

David Crosby

Bon Jovi

Black Flag

Joe Walsh

Yngvie Malmsteen

Warrant

Elf with Ronnie James Dio

All That Remains

Halestorm

24-7 Spyz

Fishbone

White Lion

Poison

Vixen

Marilyn Manson

Veruca Salt

Nada Surf

Sum 41

Shades Apart

Reel Big Fish

Mighty Mighty Bosstones

DRI (Dirty Rotten Imbeciles)

Overkill

Testament

Exodus

Kittie

Sepultura

Soulfly

New Found Glory

Crossfade

Candlebox

Simon Townshend

Graham Parker

The Stray Cats

New York Dolls

Suzanne Vega

Duke Robillard

If readers can recall other bands, plus the dates when they played the Lost, please let us know at editorial@syracusenewtimes.com.