Life after Delp: One year after singer's suicide, Beatle Juice has regrouped while carrying on lead singer's legacy

The night, exactly one year ago tonight, started like any other for members of Beatle Juice.

John "Muzz" Muzzy of Woburn, Dave Mitchell of Nashua, Steve Baker of Londonderry and Joe Holaday of Newburyport gathered at Johnny D's Uptown Restaurant and Music Club in Somerville around 4 p.m. for a sound check before a show.

Their singer — legendary Boston frontman Brad Delp — was supposed to be there, too, but hadn't shown up.

Equipment was unloaded. And Holaday, who had been running late, was surprised that the lead singer in their Beatles tribute band wasn't at the club when he arrived.

Delp was never late.

"He was always right there on time," Holaday said. "Brad was the anti-rock star, rock star."

Before long, Muzzy called a halt to the pre-show preparations. Holaday and Baker each recall they knew something wasn't right then.

The show was canceled, and when the group gathered at Muzzy's house, he told them: Brad Delp, 55, had committed suicide in his Atkinson, N.H., home that day.

"We hung out for a few hours in shock," said Baker, who met Delp in the 1980s and found they shared a passion for the Lads from Liverpool.

"Just complete disbelief," he said of what he experienced. "I never thought in a million years. There was no indication of anything like that."

Delp died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Atkinson police officers found him sealed in his bathroom with two charcoal grills in the tub. A note paperclipped to his shirt said, "Mr. Brad Delp ... 'I am a lonely soul,'" in English and French, police said.

Since Delp's death, the band has continued to perform with a rotation of four singers. But adjusting, by all accounts, has not been easy.

Baker said after hearing the news, he quickly began thinking about the family — Delp's fiancée, Pam Sullivan, whom he was supposed to marry last August; as well as Delp's two grown children and his ex-wife, Mickey, to whom he also was close.

Holaday said the news rocked his universe.

"It was like walking sideways," he said. "It takes a few days to filter through what you are feeling. That is a blessing in a way, because you are on automatic. "

Building a band, bonds and fans

Millions knew Brad Delp as the voice of Boston, the multiplatinum rock band with North Shore roots. Though the Danvers native still played and toured with Boston before he died, he referred to Beatle Juice as a labor of love.

"Beatle Juice was a dream of Brad's that he had all his life," said longtime friend and former Boston bass player Fran Sheehan of Swampscott. "It has some of the best musicians in the area."

Beatle Juice formed around 1994. Dedicated to keeping the spirit of the Beatles alive, the band was conceived by Muzzy and Delp, friends of 27 years. They quickly recruited fellow Beatles lovers Baker and Holaday. Mitchell joined the band just three years ago.

"We were envisioning a place like The Grog, playing one Sunday a month and having some fun," Muzzy said.

Their ambitions were outdone, however.

"It just took off," Muzzy said.

From the outset, Beatle Juice wasn't interested in wigs and matching suits. The band only wanted to re-create the music of The Beatles as faithfully as possible. In the beginning, they'd practice in Muzzy's basement. Their first gig in 1994 was in a friend's backyard.

"Brad would have been happy to play in the basement for the rest of his life," Muzzy said.

Delp never wanted to promote his connection to Boston, but the bookings started rolling in anyway. Beatle Juice played fundraisers and small clubs all over the region, sometimes three or four nights a week.

"It ebony porn became so much bigger than any of us believed," Muzzy said.

Baker said being part of Beatle Juice was a relief for Delp. Touring with Boston involved a grueling schedule of radio interviews, back-to-back shows, and all the other stressors that went along with fronting a multiplatinum powerhouse.

"He loved playing little clubs, people right in your face," Baker said. "He was the friendliest, down-to-Earth, most anti-stereotypcial rock star."

Every now and then, Baker recalled, someone at a Beatle Juice concert would shout out "More Than A Feeling" — a request for the band to play one of Boston's big hits.

Delp's response? "Sorry, it's my night off."

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