The naked truth about Steve Smith & The Nakeds

One August night in 2019, Peter Farrelly took his buddy Bill Murray to see one his favorite bands. 

Steve Smith and The Nakeds were playing a private show for the residents of Roy Carpenter’s Beach in South Kingstown, Rhode Island.

Farrelly, a seasonal Martha’s Vineyard resident, brought his buddy to eat pierogis in Fall River, then hit up the beach show.

“Peter said to me, ‘You’re gonna let Bill sing?’ I said, ‘Absolutely. What song should I do?’ He said, ‘Do “Gloria.” Do you want me to tell him?’ I said, ‘No, I’m just gonna start playing it,’” Smith tells me. 

Murray “was out in the crowd. He was like a dog. He heard the music start, and his ears went up,” Smith, 73, recalls with a laugh, in our recent interview from his Smithfield, Rhode Island, home.

Oh, and there was a dancing T-Rex. 

Because before the Farrelly Brothers made hit movies set in Rhode Island — “Dumb and Dumber,” “There’s Something About Mary,” “Outside Providence” etc. — Peter and Bobby were just a couple of kids from Cumberland, sneaking into clubs underage to see Rhody rockers: like Steve Smith and The Nakeds, and Smith’s cousin John in John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band. 

I’ve long been fascinated by the cult following of Steve Smith and The Nakeds, both for their local legend status and local origin story. 

The Nakeds are a band so quintessentially New England they’e been “Family Guy”-ed (the Rhode Island equivalent of being “Simpson”-ized), are the Official Band of Narragansett Beer, and have had songs in “Dumb and Dumber To” and “The Greatest Beer Run Ever.” They were tapped to promote Miller Beer for the Northeast with Boston’s The Del Fuegos. 

Bob Dylan may have his Never Ending Tour —  but The Nakeds could lay claim to that title, too. (Insta bio: “On tour since 1973.”)

Sure, they’ve recorded some albums, they’re on Spotify and social media — but that’s not what defines them. It’s their live-in-person shows — rollicking and regular and always a packed house. 

For 51 years, the Nakeds just keep on keepin’ on. Another night, another bar, club or, recently, Italian fest in the North End.

Born in North Providence in 1951, Smith grew up in Smithfield, and graduated from Providence College in 1973. In the ’70s Steve Smith & the Nakeds had a stronghold on the New England college scene. (“You name it, we played there.”) 

Since the ’80s, they’ve played bars and clubs from Boston to Falmouth, Newport to South Kingstown. They dominated the Cape bar scene in the ’80s. Depending on your age, your parents, grandparents, or you probably danced drunk at a Nakeds show (or a few).

They keep on keeping on.

Today, the rock, rhythm, and blues 10-piece gig almost every damn night — and still pack a house. They played for Bill Clinton, toured with E Street’s late, great Clarence Clemons, and were inducted into the Rhode Island Music Hall of Fame in 2013.

And they keep on truckin’.

When I ask Smith about the quote on his website home page, “Til the Phone Stops Ringing…” he explains: “That’s what I tell people when they ask me how long I’m gonna do this.”

On Friday night, they brought the rockin’ blues to the Madonna Della Cava Society festival in Boston’s North End, a regular gig for them these last few years. Next up? A full calendar of Rhode Island shows, from Narragansett to Westerly. 

I called Smith at his Smithfield home recently. In our conversation, Smith laughed often at old memories, spoke with a chowdah-thick southern “r”-less New England accent (Roy Carpenter’s is Roy Cahpintah’s) as we talked bar gigs, Farrelly movies, E Street Band, “Family Guy,” and Narragansett Beer can Christmas tree decorations, and the ups and downs of being one of the longest-running bar bands in New England.

Bill Murray jumped on stage with you guys a few year back at Roy Carpenter’s Beach. You grew up summering there with your extended family.

My cousin John [Cafferty of the Beaver Brown Band] and I grew up in the same beach house in Matunuck [a village in South Kingstown] every summer ’til I was 12. It was a battle every summer to see who was gonna get the new Beatle album first. As soon as we got it, it was on the record player in the beach house, listened to from one end to the other. Then he started taking guitar lessons, and I was singing. 

When did you start singing? 

At the beach house on Saturday night. It was three families living in one house. My Uncle John would get us up in front of the refrigerator on Saturday night, get all the aunts and uncles to come over, and we’d all have to perform something — tell a joke, do a magic trick, something —  in front of the refrigerator before bed.

That’s awesome.

My first performance was a cover of “Love Letters in the Sand” by Pat Boone in front of the refrigerator when I was 4.

[laughs] I love this.

[laughs] My father said I had a gift, and sent me to voice lessons when I was 7. 

Did you like lessons?

It was kind of weird because, Saturday afternoon, all the kids would be in the street playing baseball, football. Here I was going to voice lessons. 

[laughs] Right. But you stuck with it.

I stuck with it. I think my longevity — 51 years now of the band— is because I did take those lessons. Even after college at PC, I studied with a couple of different teachers at the Rhode Island School of Music at the Biltmore in Providence.

You started The Nightcrawlers when you were around 13. What inspired that?

We were all in love with the Beatles. Our other tradition, John and mine, was in the winter, we’d go to the movies every Saturday. Our first exposure to Black music was [1964 music doc] “The T.A.M.I Show.” It had all the up-and-coming stars: The Supremes, Jan and Dean, The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones. James Brown was the last act — that’s when we really get into soul.

You played hockey for the PC Friars.

I wasn’t a good student; I made college because of my hockey skills. I didn’t have a scholarship, so I had to work at the iron foundry, go to practice, go to work, then study. I almost flunked out. 

So I quit hockey, and joined a band, Bloody Mary. Instead of working 40 hours a week in the foundry — pouring iron, stuff like that—  I’d work Friday and Saturday night and make twice as much. Then my senior year, I was asked to join Naked Truth. That was 1973. 

So it wasn’t initially your band.

Bloody Mary opened for Naked Truth a couple times. They heard me sing, and asked if I wanted to join. I’d always wanted to be in a horn band. 

How did you get such a cult following so early? 

Back then, the drinking age was 18, and there were clubs everywhere. We played seven nights a week. Each fall, we’d play 25 to 30 colleges. From March to graduation, we would play another 25 to 30. On a spring break weekend, we’d play URI, Quinnipiac, Yale, Southern Connecticut, Southern New Hampshire, Dartmouth.

We gigged everywhere, you name it: Boston College, BU, Stonehill, Southern Connecticut, Northeastern, URI, Bryant, Johnson and Wales, Wheaton. Wheaton back then was all women. So we enjoyed that one.

[laughs] So you were never a cover band?

Our focus was always to record and to write our own music. So we’d play covers, but we’d slip in an original without announcing it was ours. After a while, people were singing the words.

What was your first album?

Our first original 45 was “I’m Huge and the Babes Go Wild” in ’78.

[laughs] Right.

[laughs] But we had to change our band name. There was a band in Long Island called Naked Truth. Kids would say, “Hey, we went to see you guys on Long Island and it was another band.”

So we decided we were gonna put out cease and desists to all the bands calling themselves Naked Truth. We had our lawyer research. He came up with 1,500 bands on the East Coast alone.

[laughs]

Would’ve cost us a fortune. So we just changed the name.

You were big in the Boston area.

We played everywhere — House of Blues, Bunratty’s, Katy’s in Kenmore Square,  Jonathan Swift’s in Cambridge. The Rathskeller. Cape Cod was a stronghold for us, especially Falmouth. In 1985 we were on this promotion for Miller Beer. They picked 16 bands from all over the country to promote Miller High Life. We represented the northeast with Boston’s The Del Fuegos. 

What are some highlights looking back?

Playing for President Clinton. Touring with Clarence Clemons from the E Street Band.  He wrote songs for our “Never Say Never” album; so did Nils Lofgren. We toured with Clarence from 1983 till he passed away.

Whenever he wasn’t playing with Bruce Springsteen, we were on tour with him: “Steve Smith & The Nakeds featuring Clarence Clemons.” We did 20 to 30 shows a year. Our biggest with him was when Bill Clinton asked us to play for his healthcare rally in New Jersey in 1994. 

Peter Farrelly is one of your big fans. You had songs in “Dumb and Dumber To” and “The Greatest Beer Run.”

Here’s the deal: The Farrelly brothers used to follow the band before they were the Farrelly Brothers.  They were our biggest fans. Used to come to Falmouth every summer to see us.  Then they became the Farrelly Brothers. We’ve been in two of their movies. But every summer, no matter where Peter Farrelly is, he comes to see the band. We were supposed to be in “Outside Providence.”

Wait what? I love that movie. 

We were going to cover all the tunes in that movie for the soundtrack. Then Peter got Alec Baldwin and George Wendt, and they upped the music budget.  So they ended up using the original tracks. But every time Peter does a movie, he has the music director call us.

Danny was the first writer Seth McFarlane hired.  In 2008 they were going to use “I’m Huge and the Babes Go Wild.” But Seth is really particular about music. Danny presented it to him, and he didn’t get it. But they put it on the DVD. Because of because of that, we got signed to Sony Records.

Any new albums coming out?

We just recorded a new song yesterday, actually. It’ll be up on our Spotify as a single in the next week or so. It’s called, “Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You.”

You have so many upcoming gigs. You guys don’t stop. 

We try. You know, COVID really put a hit on the entertainment industry. It hasn’t recovered yet. We’re hurting in the winter because, like a lot of the clubs we used to play either went belly up or they don’t have bands anymore. We lost four clubs in the pandemic. Others close now at 11 p.m. instead of 1 a.m.  So I would just tell people to get out and support live entertainment. 

True. And your website says you’re the “Official Band of Narragansett Beer.”

Next year will be the 20th year we’ve been doing that. We used to promote Narragansett in the ’70s and ’80s — that’s how we got the Miller job. 

In 1983 the Narragansett brewery closed. In 2004, I got a call that I should talk to the kid bringing it back: Mark Hellendrung. We have a meeting. He goes, “So what are you proposing?” I said: Well, before the brewery closed, we promoted Narragansett to the point where it was on our rider for every show to get three cases. Our initiation to the Nakeds back in the day was you had to go on a tour of the brewery.  We’d come out of there s—faced.

[laughs]

My trumpet player, we called him “The Kid.” So we take The Kid for initiation, bring them home, and I throw them in the door. [laughs] Like 20 minutes later, I get a phone call. It’s his father, right? [laughs] We called his father “The Cobra.” I pick up the phone, he goes, “Smitty. This is the Cobra.” I think: “I’m screwed.”

[laughs] Right.

He goes, “You take my son to the brewery and get him all bombali and don’t invite me!?” He was pissed!

[laughs] That’s awesome. 

But anyway, I told Mark that story. Told him a few more. Like I used to hang Narragansett cans on my Christmas tree as ornaments every year in the band house. When I got married, I’m still hanging up the beer cans. My wife would give me s— every year. It would be like a fun spat in front of the kids, whether I could hang my beer cans on the tree.

[laughs] I love this.

I told Mark these stories, he’s like “All right, let’s do it.” That was 2005. So in 2005, we’re setting up the Christmas tree. My daughter goes, “Mom, you’re gonna let Dad hang the beer cans on the tree this year?” She goes,  “As many as he wants.”

This interview has been edited and condensed.

Lauren Daley is a freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected]. She tweets @laurendaley1, and Instagrams at @laurendaley1. Read more stories on Facebook here.