Still Rocking the House

Now in his 50’s, Norman Nardini doesn’t worry about

what could have been. He’s too busy performing.

By Gerry Stanek

Boastful one minute, self-deprecating the next, Homewood native Norman Nardini provides a stage presence that is a study in contradictions. This perennial black sheep of local rock ‘n’ roll was once touted as the next big thing back in the ‘80’s, when he was “young and pretty” (his words). He won’t fail to remind audiences that he remains the “uncrowned king of Pittsburgh rock and roll.”

     Nardini cajoles his fans constantly, talking trash and bragging. Alternately, he’s apologetic and shy, referring to himself as “dork boy,” the poster child for his trailer-park anthem, “White Trash Tragedy.” Either way, he demands attention, leaving little doubt as to whose show it is and why you should be happy you came.

     Despite his unstoppable nature, Nardini’s next-big-thing tag had been disposed of by the early-‘90’s. Pittsburgh radio stations ignored his newer music, so did the press. He was a dispensable commodity—not as reliable as Joe Grushecky, not as polished as Donnie Iris. Shows featuring the Pittsburgh All-Stars of Rock went by year after year. Nardini’s phone never rang. A 1994 feature in The Wall Street Journal mentioned that discipline had been a problem throughout his lengthy career. A contract with CBS Records (1981) didn’t produce any chart-busters.

     The ace Nardini has held through a decades-long career is his undying love for two things: music and Pittsburgh, not necessarily in that order. As he glides into his mid-50’s living in Wilkins Township, Nardini still packs rooms at venues such as Moondog’s in Blawnox, Excuses in the South Side and Billy’s Roadhouse in Wexford. The frame of reference is clear when he sings, “I’ve been donin’it for years, before ya all was here,” during his reggae-tinged “Burnin’ Up,” a song about younger artists getting ahead while he’s held back by the music industry.

     Unlike Grushecky and Iris, who perform but hold down day jobs, Nardini has followed an unwavering path, still playing for a living and producing vital music full of Pittsburgh imagery and spirit. A day job was never part of the equation. His energy is boundless: his desire to play and write what he lovingly calls “Pittsburgh rock ‘n’ roll” is off the charts.

     When Nardini penned a song called “Till the Cows Come Home” in 1992, he sang it for his pal Jon Bon Jovi, replete with mooing. Ever so subtly, Bon Jovi told his friend, “If you play that song, people are going to laugh at you.”

     Not easily offended, Nardini thought about Bon Jovi’s advice and replied, “Dude, that’s what I do. I make people laugh.”