rock ‘n’ roll roar falls silent

Virginia Beach

The guitarist held his instrument inches from the amp, teasing out a yelp of feedback and building it into a sustained wail. In lesser hands, feedback is an unruly nuisance. But Mike Overcash, known around town as Elwood, could harness it, make it part of the music. Really, he could do anything he wanted on the guitar.

On this summer night in 1985, his feedback washed over a sea of bobbing heads at the 25th Street Oceanfront stage. Young men with domes of sun-bleached hair and women with teased bangs had come to see the most popular band in Virginia Beach: Locals Only.

The band was good, and Elwood, then 23, was its star. His guitar tone was impeccable, his solos imaginative and bold without being too showy.

As Elwood's feedback rang out, drummer Gray Randolph, 18, counted off the tune on his high hat. Bassist Patrick Myers, 20, laid down the low end. Lead singer Jeff Cicatko, 20, jumped around onstage in shorts. The band, in surf shop T-shirts and tank tops, looked like they had strolled off the Boardwalk and picked up instruments.

Elwood slowly backed away from the wailing amp. He was a big man but moved like an athlete onstage.

The feedback faded, then doubled back on itself in a higher pitch. The effect complete, he turned to the crowd and dug into the crunchy chords of "Clampdown" by the English punk rock band The Clash.

The kids at the beach went wild.

No one listening to Elwood play that summer would have thought his musical career was peaking. Locals Only was packing clubs in Virginia Beach and Norfolk - Peabody's, The Wave, The Boathouse - and headlining at colleges and clubs throughout the mid-Atlantic.

But music is a fickle enterprise. There are so many reasons why the dream dies. For three of the band's four members it was simply adulthood: college, jobs, mortgages, families.

Elwood was different. He chased musical success relentlessly. He embraced the lifestyle that so often accompanies that line of work, including drugs and alcohol. His party appetites were as legendary as his guitar solos and record collection. He lived like the rock star he always wanted to be.

For him, small-town fame was never enough. He wanted a bigger stage. Elwood had talent, ambition, financial backing and, for a while, devoted fans. If only it were that simple.

When Elwood died in October, just shy of his 51st birthday, he was, in a sense, still famous. A certain generation of Virginia Beach residents will never forget Locals Only.

The 1980s were a vibrant time for live music in South Hampton Roads. Groups such as Waxing Poetics, Wild Kingdom, The Boneshakers and a slew of Norfolk punk bands drew big crowds. The drinking age for beer was 18 and then 19, and after-hours clubs at the Oceanfront kept the party humming until sunrise.

While many '80s bands enhanced their appearance with hair spray and dramatic makeup, Locals Only was as clean-cut and suburban as its hometown. Elwood's long hair was the only physical hint of rock 'n' roll rebellion.

Their fans included friends from the city's older affluent high schools - Cox and First Colonial - and Norfolk Academy, as well as young surfers.

Elwood's mother's family had made money in real estate, and he grew up in a home near Hilltop on Linkhorn Bay, powerboating in the summer and skiing during winters at the family's condo in the mountains. On his 16th birthday, his parents bought him a jacked-up Ford Bronco with a V-8 engine. After graduating from First Colonial, he attended the prestigious Berklee College of Music in Boston but didn't finish.

Locals Only, which got together in 1983, honed its sound in an air-conditioned shed on Elwood's parents' Linkhorn Bay property.

"We were a beach band, but we weren't playing beach music," drummer Randolph said.

They embraced the new style of pop music sweeping the country in the early '80s. Rock, reggae and punk were fusing into a style broadly known as "New Wave."

"It was a magical time in music," Cicatko said. "There was a shift going on. We really grabbed onto the punk and New Wave. It was cutting edge at the time."

They covered an eclectic set of artists - Bob Marley, The Clash, The Police, Gang of Four, The Ramones, The Violent Femmes, The Cure - and crowds loved it.

Elwood always had the best guitars, amps, sound equipment and a van to haul it all. He bought the highest-quality beer, whiskey and other diversions favored by musicians. Elwood was the life of any party, often fueling festivities with a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey.

"I might be able to start the night with him, but I couldn't finish it," said Trip Darden, the band's second drummer.

Success came quickly. By 1984, Locals Only was touring, playing colleges in the winters and clubs in the summers. It wasn't unusual for the band to play three 50-song gigs in a weekend.

"My hands were so swollen, it hurt to pick up a fork," Randolph said.

One March night that year, Elwood didn't show up for a gig in Nags Head. His band mates later learned why. His mother, 49, had committed suicide at home.

Elwood heard the gunshot, ran to the bathroom and held her until she was gone.

After the tragedy, Elwood seemed to further immerse himself in music.</p>

"We weren't sure how he was going to react," bassist Myers said. "But he was full-time and maybe more into it."

Locals Only's popularity allowed it to work original material into its sets, and pretty soon it had enough songs for its 1985 release, "Catch One."

Elwood and Myers wrote most of the music. "If I played something, he knew exactly what the song needed," Myers said. "I would bring him some chintzy guitar line that I came up with, and he would make it awesome."

The six-song album featured jangly guitar lines and introspective vocals.

"North End" was a love song set on the beach at 74th Street, an area still favored by locals. ("This is my place, away from the race. I can bury myself in the sand. I'm on the North End again, with nothing to do but to think of you.")

"Too Big for Its Beaches" warned about the accelerating development of Virginia Beach. ("I don't know how that money is being spent, but it's going to be no summer, if you're surfing on cement.")

The album's biggest song was a reggae tune called "Too Much Soda Pop."

The next year, Locals Only opened for the punk band The Ramones at The Boathouse in Norfolk. At the afternoon sound check, the band played a Ramones song. Elwood attacked his guitar solo with extra vigor and volume.

"I'll never forget Johnny Ramone sticking his head out of the dressing room and looking at us," Cicatko said. "After he left, someone said, 'Do you think he was pissed?' I thought it was his way of saying, 'Look at those boys rocking our tunes.' "

Still, Elwood wanted things to happen faster for the band and himself. He was the only one not spending weekdays away at college.

"He felt we were held back because our primary focus was graduation from college," Myers said. "He wanted to jump into a full- time situation and not wait for us to do the college thing anymore."

Elwood quit Locals Only and formed a new band, The Willies.

The Willies found modest success on the college circuit. Searching for a boost to the next level, Elwood paid for The Willies to film a music video for an MTV video contest. The show "Basement Tapes" pitted the videos of unknown bands against each other.

"Raw talent, new names, the bands everybody could be talking about tomorrow," was the show's introduction. "The next Madonna! The next David Lee Roth!" The Willies filmed their video at The Boathouse. Elwood picked up the $4,900 tab.

The Willies finished second in the MTV contest, which meant their video didn't make it into MTV's playlist.

Soon after, band members kicked Elwood out because his drinking hampered his playing and reliability. Elwood sued band mates in 1989, demanding payment for the video.

The suit was dismissed. Notes from the case file said, "Mike drank sometimes excessively while working. Not performing well at times. Alcohol would affect his play. Still friendly with everyone."

In 1990, Elwood, then 28, rejoined Locals Only. The band had kept going with some new personnel and again needed a guitarist. Elwood was still the main attraction.

"Everybody would wave to him, and he would wave back and wink," Darden said. "He was the guy everybody wanted to see."

But soon the pressures of adulthood began to outweigh the joy of music. At least for most of the band members.

"When it's a frat party with your friends, it's great," said Cicatko. "But all of the sudden you're in a bar in the off-season. That's not a fraternity party. That's work. Mike was comfortable with that being his workplace."

Cicatko remembered thinking, "This might be the time to get a job, or it might get too late."

While his band mates started careers in insurance and real estate, Elwood stayed with music. He married, and in 1992 had a son, Harrison, named after his favorite Beatle. His wife, Diana Glasier, figured his music was a phase.

"We met, and partying was cool as a band wife at 22," she said. "I expected him to change, and he didn't."

Not that she didn't try. She cut his long hair, put him on diets to shed extra pounds and tried to help him find a career.

"He took the air traffic controller exam and missed by one point," she said.

Elwood tried to run a sub shop, but it didn't work out.

They divorced in 1994, and Elwood moved to Hawaii to be near a brother. He came back to Virginia Beach and played in several bands. None amounted to much.

His legal troubles, however, did.

He got his first DUI in 1996 and lost his license. In 2000, a police officer pulled him over after he drove across a concrete median on Pacific Avenue at 3:15 a.m. Police searched the car and found a small amount of cocaine in a plastic bag and some marijuana. The result was his second DUI and 30 days in jail.

Elwood bounced around the Oceanfront, renting rooms, and at one point lived in the pool house at the home owned by his ex-wife and her new husband. They took him in on some holidays.

"He was like the cool uncle coming over on Thanksgiving," Glasier said. "He had nobody else to take care of him."

In 2003, Elwood bought a condo below his friend Ted Dean, who was the leader of The Shifty South, a rockabilly band. Elwood became the band's guitarist, dressing the part for shows in denim overalls and a straw hat.

When he was sober, his guitar playing was as good as ever.

"He'd show me an alternative chord that rang a little different, a little twangier - it just sounded better," Dean said.

He expected it would be fun having Elwood living below him.

"I thought we'd be playing music, writing songs," he said. "It wasn't like that."

The first thing Elwood did when he moved into the condo was install an outdoor hot tub. Dean averted his eyes from the nightly parties.

"When he did something, he did it to the 10," Dean said. "He didn't stop at five and take a break. He went to 10."

Elwood stopped leaving the house. He missed four gigs in a row. Dean had to fire him.

"You wish you could've got a bunch of people together, locked him in a room and chewed him out for three hours," Dean said. "But I don't think with him that would've worked. If you're not going to save yourself, ain't nobody going to save you."

In 2006, Elwood got his third DUI and spent time in Norfolk City Jail. He was 44.

His bills piled up. When water to his condo was cut off, he ran a hose from a neighbor's unit.

He spliced into a neighbor's TV cable. He fell behind on condo association dues and city property taxes. His pancreas flared up, landing him in the hospital. The medical bills rolled in. The money his mother had left him was running out.

In 2006, he sold the condo and moved into a series of rentals. He played guitar in various duos and bands, partying hard as always.

One night, Dean stopped by an Oceanfront bar where Elwood had just finished a set. They took a seat and Elwood asked the bartender if he could get paid.

"She looked at him and said, 'You owe us, like, $42,' " Dean said.

Without a license, Elwood got around on a motor scooter or bicycle, slinging a guitar over his back to get to gigs.

The musical highlight of Elwood's life became Locals Only reunion shows. He'd help organize concerts when Cicatko, who had moved to Hawaii, came back to visit.

"If Jeff was coming home, that immediately sent Mike into reunion mode," Darden said.

At the last reunion run in 2012, Locals Only sold out The Jewish Mother at the Oceanfront. The band's rust showed in the first rehearsal, held at Randolph's house, and Elwood's drinking made practice harder. But as always, he was fun to be around.

When Randolph opened a $100 bottle of wine and handed Elwood a glass, he swirled it around, stuck his nose in it, took a sip and roared like a lion.

"I still have this vision of him doing that in my kitchen," Randolph said. "It just cracked me up. You couldn't keep a straight face."

No matter how low he sunk, Elwood never lost his charm. People always wanted to be around him.

"He was a cool cat," Randolph said. "The way he moved. The licks he put into the music. The way he heard music. The way he talked. A lot of people try to be cool. He was just cool."

Before the show at The Jewish Mother, a staffer informed the band they could eat free sandwiches. Elwood ordered prime rib instead. The staffer told Elwood he'd have to pay.

"He just put this big grin on his face," Randolph said.

The guy who least could afford it ate steak.

The gig went well. Elwood was on his game. He led a smooth transition from The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated" to Billy Idol's "Dancing With Myself." The crowd loved it. So did the band.

"It's like you're 19 again," Cicatko said.

A week before Elwood died, Dean saw him at a Department of Motor Vehicles office. After the DUIs, he was getting his license back.

"I feel so guilty about it now," Dean said. "He wasn't his usual jovial self. I just took it as no one's really happy about sitting in the DMV. We had a short chat. He got called up and left before we had a chance to talk."

A few days later, Elwood pawned one of his expensive guitars. He gave his son $1,400. He planned to move into an apartment with him, and the cash was for rent.

"That's all the money he had left in the world," Glasier said.

On the afternoon of Oct. 30, she got the call. Elwood was dead. He'd hanged himself in the shed of the home near the Oceanfront where he rented a room.

The next day, Glasier cleaned out her former husband's room. It didn't take long. A bed, a desk, a computer, a TV, 50 T-shirts, a couple of amps and a few guitars.

He didn't leave a note.

She found an old Locals Only CD that she listened to the next day while driving to the airport to pick up family for the funeral.

Elwood's family and friends gathered at a Laskin Road funeral home and gave him the send-off of music and laughter they figured he'd have wanted. Like a Locals Only concert in the '80s, there was a line out the door.

Aaron Applegate, [email protected]