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The death of one-time Youngstown Ohio congressman and eventually convicted felon James Traficant was one current event of the past week or so that, while not "affecting" me the same way the death of a close relative would, did make me take notice of a whole slew of things goin' on in my life. And those "things" include (amongst other sundries) the passage of time, my own mortality and of course the way things used to be in those days before the hippoid generation really changed whatever they got their privileged paws on, mostly for the worse. Really, when you looked at Traficant, you definitely saw the last of the sort of he-man who typified the politician back in the days before sensitivity and touchy-feelyisms began permeating the political sphere (and that, surprisingly enough, included the democrats [of which Traficant was a member] who now seem to be having a major contest to see who can out-emote each other), and at this point in time it's hard to believe that such a man existed in Washington who behaved like the former sheriff, and wasn't thought of as a male chauvinist goon by the dykes and snivelers in charge.

Nowadays it seems as if everything permeating the three branches of government here in the U.S. of Woe has become pussified beyond belief to the point where even Mister Rogers comes off as Testosterone Teddy next to the castratis you see ruling over us anymore. Sheesh, it's come to the point where if you wanna see any real strong individuals in the true change for progress in this world you have to look to Europe to find them. Heck, even Marine LePen comes off more masculine than the mewlers who clutter up the Amerigan political scene, and that lady's about as feminine as you can get especially when stacked up against anybody who has been, is on, and will be on THE VIEW.

I sure do remember back when a younger and slimmer Traficant was running for sheriff back '77 way with his full-throttle, no-holds-barred television commercials permeating every break during those evening ODD COUPLE reruns. And unlike every other Mahoning County sheriff who had come before (or after), it wasn't like you could avoid reading about the guy who was on the news every night whether it be his constant smashing up of a sheriff's cruiser by using it as a battering ram on a biker meth lab or gambling raid, or even the time he spent three nights in the slammer rather than serve eviction notices to poor folk who couldn't pay the bills. A bigger'n life guy who was the closest anyone in the area's come to Buford Pusser, and when he beat that mob bribery rap in '82 and ran for congress he only became bigger in the eyes of everyone in the tri-county area and eventually elsewhere.

Of course he made more'n a few enemies during his years in congress, and it looks as if those enemies did their best to bring him down which they most certainly did with his corruption trial which finally got him sent to the slammer. Funny, I always thought that the things Traficant got jailed for were particularly innocent and nothing that any real-life investigator would bother sticking nostrils into, and that those payoffs and gifts and favors such as the kind he got was just everyday biz in the Nation's Crapitol. I mean, I'm sure other congressmen made out like real bandits gobbling up all of the gifts that they were getting so they'd vote the "right" way, and none of 'em were heading for the hoosegow like ol' Traficant. Talk about a hard lesson in politics where more connected members of government can get away with tax evasion (a good idea unless you're a politician who gleefully raises taxes) yet someone who advocates a true reaming of the soul-killing aspects of life gets raked over the coals the way Traficant did.

Good thing that I never got elected to public office, or I might be finding out more sooner 'n later whether or not I have a gag reflex! But one thing's for sure and that is you never woulda seen Traficant on his knees fellating all of the people out there in politics-land who were demanding a proper and subservient bee-jay. And I know that even when he was rotting away behind bars Traficant never doubted his innocence or would conform to the current mode of insti-felch in order to climb his way into the favors of those evil powers that be and will remain.

But in my own befuddled ranch house blob way I do mourn the guy's passing, since he was not only screwed by the same government who screws us all on a daily basis but by the people who used to rah-rah him at every turn throughout the eighties and nineties yet wouldn't re-elect the guy when he ran for his congressional seat from his prison cell. Yeah I know that, even if he did win it would have been interesting to see how he could "govern" in his new surroundings, but if he did win such a situation really would have been a huge bug uppa ass for alla his enemies at THE YOUNGSTOWN VINDICATOR (typical snobbish anti-peon paper that deserves to die a quick death along with most if not every other fishwrap out there in "journalism" land) and elsewhere on the spectrum.

Oddly enough, the best send-off I've read regarding the guy ironically was on the paleocon/libertarian TAKI'S MAGAZINE site, which I will say  reminds me of one final thing regarding Traficant that maybe I should 'fess up to after all these years...before he went to prison I always thought that his hair was for real! Hey, if he WAS wearing a toupee, wouldn't ya thunk it woulda looked a whole lot more lifelike than the flop he had planted upon his scalp for a longer time'n any of us could have imagined?????
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Well, here it is more or less, writeups of most if not all of the new 'n fresh to my not-so-virgin ears recordings that have made their way to my laser launching pad these past two weeks. Nothing spectacular true (talking about my reviews, not my selections) but I think it'll do given the amt. of emotional wringing out I've been receiving as of late...don't wanna crybaby about it, but I kinda think yer lucky to get the following stew if anything! But I won't bore you with this, though I will bore you by giving hefty thanks to the likes of P.D. Fadensonnen and Bill Shute for their help in making this week's entry more'n just a review of the Brotzmann/Sharrock CD, the only entry born of my hard-earned and nothing but this go 'round!

As soon as I get some scratch together and there's a tide of hotcha recordings being made available maybe you WILL be reading something more substantial, but I kinda doubt those days'll be coming back any time soon. After all, money is becoming a rather scarce commodity these days and it ain't like I can bop-a-dee-bop down to the local record store to pick up a rockin' wowzer the way I could have thirty-five or more years back! In fact there ain't any more record shops to prowl through like there were during my major vinyl scarfing days! Until the situation makes itself better on both monetary and musical fronts (and I say "HAH!" to both) it's gonna be jumping on every new release that even remotely looks as if it's gonna continue on the high energy exemplified by the 1974-1981 rock seasons, as well as comb the internet for downloads and whatnot featuring acts that may be deserving of a spin or two (oddly enough, youtube is a source for items you never thought you'd get your filthy little paws on!). I know...cut the shit and get to the reviews so as the Who once said, here 'tis...


Can-POITIERS FRANCE 1 & 2 CD-r burns burns (courtesy P. D. Fadensonnen)


Here's Can right about the time they were beginning to slink into the same doldrums of esoteric whooziz that affected a good portion of the same krautrock bands who were slowly but surely going from garage band to slick commercialism. Dunno who this "guest vocalist" Thaiga Raj Raja Ratnam is, but he does a pretty good job contributing to the group's already flippoid demeanor sounding almost as good as Damo Suzuki or even Magic Michael. The Can-sters themselves come off as typically improv/technical as they had been throughout the mid-seventies doing a whole load of material from the more recent platters as well as a version of "Mother Sky" that, while losing some of the intensity of the Suzuki-period live version, still manages to emit a bit of the same crunch that had people like Hot Scott Fischer telling Lester Bangs that Can were even better than the Stooges! If you're a newbie to the seventies krautscapading scene or were in on it from the John Peel get go, this is a good 'un for you to locate via the World Wide Web and download for your very own drug-induced stupor.
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Mama Dada 1919-SLITS, QUICK CD-r burn (originally on the Out Music Company label)

When I first saw an ad for this rarity in the pages of CLE #3-A I must say that I was interested. Not enough to send away for this self-produced rarity though, and all of these years later it wasn't like the lack of hearing this was chewing away at me like a fox on his leg trying to get out of a hunter's trap. But thanks to P. D. Fadensonnen I finally get to experience this late-seventies weirditie and hey, while I'm not oh-golly-gee knocked out by it I do find the effort rather entertaining. Humorous even.

This is the sorta stuff that had neophytes mimbling "ZAPPA!" for years on end but I hear more of an Italian futurist influence with a tad bit of LAFMS and indecipherable obscure European art rock thrown in. A fine piece of DIY noisegrating even if admitting to liking such art project musings is bound to get me kicked outta the Rough and Tumble Rockism Society faster than you can say "Nick Tosches".
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Peter Brotzmann/Sonny Sharrock-WHATTHEFUCKDOYOUWANT CD (Trost Austria, available via Forced Exposure)

This is the second Sharrock/Brotzmann live duo collaboration that's been released to the genital public (click here for my review of the other one), and as you would have expected  me to say after reading XXX years of my dribble this is a mighty good piece of recorded soundscapading that's goin' up 'n about like hardly anything before or since! Like on the pair's earlier FRAGMENTS the sax and guitar fare purty darn well even w/o the added dissonance and blues of Ronald Shannon Jackson and Bill Laswell, and the playing is just as free as you woulda expected what with Sharrock playing some tasty atonal if downright rock-y guitar lines while Brotzmann creates mighty chasms of solid growl with his array of horns. Both players go to show you just how far and out music coulda gotten, especially at a time when I thought everything decent and powerful about the past thirty or so years of innovation was going down the infamous memory hole that gobbled up more'n a few faves.

And hey, spinning this in conjunction with the Brotzmann/Laswell LOW LIFE album might be the most ingenious musical stunt since Imants Krumins and the folk in Simply Saucer partied while METAL MACHINE MUSIC and surf music careened from two separate turntables simultaneously! Have yourself a multi-Cee-Dee player party with both platters'n don't complain to me when you get evicted!
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Fossils-WOOLY BULLY CD (Kendra Steiner Editions)

Boy am I disappointed. Here I thought the infamous (in my mind) avant-noise-scrunch group Fossils was gonna do the Sam the Sham chestnut but all this is is more of that electronic free splat music concrete like they did their last time out! Actually I find it quite mesmerizing---hard-scronk grating, the way I like it. True this ain't no garage band classic but that doesn't mean that you're gonna wanna treat it with the same disrespect you do Grace Slick's MANHOLE! Definitely worth the effort to locate, and if you hurry maybe there will be a copy left for you (supplies are limited, as they say on tee-vee).
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Massimo Magee, Tim Green, Max Fowler-Roy-RELENTLESS COMMUNION CD (Kendra Steiner Editions}

The other newie from KSE, this time featuring the return of modern-day horn maestro Massimo Magee leading a hotcha bass and drums through a set that highly recalls the late-seventies En Why Loft Scene in its attempt to stretch free play boundaries even more'n my sagged-out gut. Magee recalls Arthur Doyle in his ability to distort the familiar saxophone sound into areas that woulda gotten his knuckles slapped only a few years earlier, while the bass of Max Fowler-Roy plucks away in perfect steadiness while drummer Tim Green does his durndest to get over the impression that he's actually Sunny Murray failing miserable at the task. And you thought they didn't make jass recordings like this anymore now, did you!
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Doug Hammond-SPACES CD-r burn (originally on DTW, Japan)

An interesting rarity from a guy who didn't get as much of the needed blab as many of his caliber (and less) managed over the years. Recorded way back in '82 when it seemed as if the second generation of free play was dying down, Hammond leads a particularly copasetic group (including the long-gone and much-missed Byard Lancaster) through some new thing that ain't Roscoe Mitchell-esque're anything but still firmly rooted in the mid-sixties free sense. In some ways this recalls Ornette right after he took his first sabbatical, though you may beg to differ. Too bad this wowzer got lost in the shuffle of many a bowtie 'n tux-friendly platter because like, this one does tend to inspire even lumpen suburban slobs such as myself on many a plane, intellectual or not.
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Gabe Williams-YOU'RE THE CREAM IN MY COFFEE CD-r burn (originally on Part Pool Records)

Dunno exactly what was creeping through Bill Shute's mind when he burned this durty comedy record for me...didn't know that the long-time BLOG TO COMM camp follower had a "salty" side to him but obviously he does! Judging from the gags presented on this 'un Williams was more or less a second-string Redd Foxx type spewin' out the X-rated humor that reminds me of a whole lotta the vulgarities being spewed on Sirius Radio even as we speak. Only this guy at least attempts to be funny which I don't think counts that much in the humor biz these days. And y'know what, he actually succeeds some of the time unlike the so-called laugh masters you come in contact with via the radio or tee-vee in this day and age! A good 'un to play for the little ones when you're too embarrassed to discuss those delicate matters with them.
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Rudimentary Peni-DEATH CHURCH CD-r burn (originally on Corpus Christi Records, England)

When it comes to these early-eighties British anarcho-punk bands it's always choose wisely, and considering the large number of doo-doo that particular scene had produced you better choose wisely lest you lose a good portion of your hard-begged cash on some warmed-over hippie mewl. One platter you might be wise to choose however is this debut elpee from noted Crassmates Rudimentary Peni, who might deliver on the usual anti rant as the rest of the unwashed did, but at least solidified their rage in a hard wall of sheer gnarl that goes beyond the usual faux-hippie love drivel these groups coulda been known for. Hard and at times Lmo-esque heavy metallic thud ("Psycho Squat" does come way too close to "Flying Saucers 88" for comfort!) that I'm sure was one of the first bridges twixt the h-core and hairboy styles of the early-eighties, and if your local boxboy could like it why shouldn't you???
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Various Artists-GODFATHER CATWALK TEARDROP INVITATION CD-r burn (courtesy of Bill Shute)

Well, I did find this one...spryer than the last Shute sampler. Yeah it's got a few outright misfires (I mean, the theme from THE GODFATHER?????) but quite a few goodies do pop up including both sides of the infamous pre-solo Warren Zevon Lyme and Cybelle single on White Whale, Kali Bahlu's "Lonely Teardrops" (which ain't the Jackie Wilson song that's for sure!) while George Loa and Maui Loa do their best to summon the spirit of the great god Ooh-Ooh-Ninny-Poo. The Great New Guitar Sounds ain't that new since all they're doing is rehashing Link Wray's classic "Rumble", and it sure is good to finally get to hear Dyke and the Blazers even though I am totally startled to find out that Dyke is a guy! It all closes out with a comedy album by the very same Alen Robin of LBJ RANCH fame who does this psychiatrist schtick using the pre-recorded voices of various political figures to mildly amusing effect. It ain't anything that's gonna make you chuckle or gasp but hey, when was the last time you laughed at a George Carlin platter?

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MOOM PITCHER SERIAL REVIEW! JUNIOR G-MEN starring Billy Halop and Huntz Hall (Universal, 1940)


Many if not most fans 'n followers of the EAST SIDE KIDS/BOWERY BOYS family o' films really give these DEAD END KIDS AND LITTLE TOUGH GUYS series at Universal the razz, but I'm one fanabla who will go on record as disagreeing with the throngs of experts. And disagreeing with them MIGHTILY in fact! True, that particular series just didn't have the same slam-bang-pow as either the earlier Warner Brothers features where the likes of Leo Gorcey, Billy Halop et. al. were hobnobbing with everyone from James Cagney to Ronald Reagan, but they still had a bit of a spark that transcended the usual H-wood crankout in terms of Saturday Afternoon barbershop kid-styled entertainment. And besides, Universal was a pretty hotcha moom pitcher outlet in them days, at least until the company morphed into "Universal International" and began concentrating on features that seemed to fit in more with your mom's Saturday afternoon television viewing rather than yours, ifyaknowaddamean...

I'm sure that even the most rabid of LITTLE TOUGH GUY haters will admit that the three Universal serials featuring the Halop-manned group (as opposed to the Gorcey-led one over at Monogram) were pretty snat in themselves and mighty watchable without the more cornballus approach of most of their features. And of these serials their first, JUNIOR G-MEN just hadda've been the best. In this one the Dead End Kids first tangle with and then join forces with the Junior G-Men who are hot on the trail of the mysterious Order of the Flaming Torch (yet another dastardly and downright antisocial organization who's out to conquer the world along with a few thousand similar-minded groups out there in early-forties movie land). Y'see. Halop's, or to be more accurate about it Billy Barton's father is actually a long lost scientist who has invented a new weapon which the Flaming Torch would really like to get their tattoo'd hands on, and of course it's up to the gang along with their new allies to bring the whole world-dominating empire down before we're all speaking perfect English!

And y'know what, they actually do it in twelve whole chapters too where Billy and his friends nearly get crushed, burned, smashed and blown up every ten or so minutes only to get outta their jamz a few seconds before we all think they're cooked for sure!

Yeah so a lotta this is what-ya'd-call "unbelievable" and anyone who'd wanna team up with those rather sissified Junior G-Men types inna first place are definitely off their rockers (at least the Flaming Torch guys have that cool sense of sadism to 'em that I love so well), but as we all know yer always gonna hafta suspend with the usual set of sophisticado values and plug in your suburban slob ones when watching mooms like this! And frankly, you can't spend a better Sunday afternoon by settling down in front of the tube for this, unless there's a flea market or garage sale around the corner that's still sellin' the same things they were in 1971 (and at 1971 prices too!).

If you want to, try the above web address to be found within the pilfered poster if you so desire, or you could do a little googlin' for an even better bargain or even try downloading it from youtube if you're computer savvy enough to handle such a task! (It should be wallowing around there amidst the rest of those public domain faves we've loved to glom for years.) And for once time's not a'wastin', because ya know this stuff's gonna be around for quite a long time while the rest of Amerigan Kultur gets shoved aside like last year's embroidered butt rags. Take back Sunday your way with a viewing or two of JUNIOR G-MEN, because it's either this or that dudzy melodrama you're mother's watching at this very minute and you never were much of a Gene Tierney fan now, were you?          

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With all of this talk about ebola and ISIS as well as other cheerful things that put a smile on our faces and a tap in our toes, maybe it's best that we talk about something totally dreadful that's happened in this world of our o'er the past seven or so earthspins. Things like the recent passing of none other than "the Madman of Rock 'n Roll" himself Paul Revere! As a skidmarking, toy-throwing  kiddiegardener-type who used to spend more'n enough time snuggled in front of the set watching WHERE THE ACTION IS, you could say that I was one guy who grew up with Mr. Revere as a front-and-center entertainment ICON, and yeah, I will admit that finding out the guy has finally met General Washington in the Great Beyond is enough to once again remind me of my own mortality, at least to the point where perhaps I'd better skip on the second helping of Eggplant Paramecium during dinnertime lest I blow up into an even bigger blubberfarm that I'm struggling not to be.

And frankly who can forget that Revere was, along with the Wailers and a few thousand other groups, part of the infamous "Northwest Scene" during the first rock 'n roll strata which was content on cranking out hard-edged r&b-influenced garage band rock while the national charts seemed to reflect a more civilized approach to teenage suburban slob living. Those early Revere records continue to stand the ol' test, and even though I am going out on a limb to say this I'm sure that only the most rabid of Mark Shipper haters out there would dare think that those Raiders platters from the mid-sixties (and on) were nothing but teenybopper trash when they sure sound fresh and exciting even after the umpteenth spin of "Him or Me". Yeah I know that the Raiders did tend to have their own soft side that was custom made for the pimply plumperoo gal in her nightgown with Mark Lindsey snaps clipped from 16 magazine pasted all over the walls, but they were still tuff enuff for the he-boys who really dug such hotcha anthems as "Steppin' Out" and "Kicks"! And hey, you could say that if there wasn't a Paul Revere and the Raiders there wouldn't have been an MC5 or Flamin' Groovies because the influences are certainly wallowing around in there...

Yeah, mebbee I could mention alla the distasteful stuff I've heard regarding the Man of the Hour such as the story about how Revere was gonna back out on meeting a terminally ill gal and 16 editor Gloria Stavers was gonna expose his real last name (which was "Dick"!) if he did! Not forgetting those behind-the-scenes rumors regarding the animosity between Revere and the various other Raiders and how he wouldn't let them smoke pot lest they ruin the group's youth appeal image!!! I'm sure there are a few things other things that you more on-the-ball readers would be able to fill me in on as well, and if so like, what's keeping ya! (And howzbout those interviews with various ex-Raiders conducted by Jeff Jarema that were supposed to reveal some mighty distasteful things that were going on in the Raiders camp...things that made the Zombies look tame in comparison!) But since the guy is no longer with us and can't defend himself from such perhaps truer than a few of you'll ever admit charges I'll leave such muckraking to a better time, like when he's ruminated enough in the afterlife and such disturbing anecdotes can finally be brought to light in that grand old kick 'em while they're decayed tradition.

But until those creepy days arrive here's to you Paul, and frankly I'm still stymied over that one WHERE THE ACTION IS skit where you guys were acting out a shoe store pantomime to some song whose title I now forget, and while trying to pull off a shoe I believe you took off Phil Volk's entire leg with it! For quite a long time I actually thought Phil lost his leg in the deal, being such a trouper to the cause that he'd actually sacrifice his limb in the name of afternoon teenage tee-vee entertainment!
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Just when you thought all hope was lost and live was not worth farting in, here comes something that really makes you glad that you're alive and kicking and not just another zomboid roaming the streets of this gollyforsaken world! You all know how much of a boffo fanzine that THE NEXT BIG THING was, what with Lindsay Hutton's top notch articles on alla those great late-seventies acts that we hadda wait a good year for when they hit the cut out bins??? Well, now some of those early issues (which would cost mucho bucks if we were to win 'em via an ebay auction) are now available via the NBT site for the price of a few sheets of paper and a computer that happens to work better'n the one I'm typing this mess out on! Yes, Mr. Hutton has it in his heart to present those early and much sought after NBT's for you fanablas who missed out the first time around, and really it is a blessed (or is it blasted?) thing that once again we can enjoy Hutton's early fanzine romps and relive alla 'em fuzzy warm memories of the days when such fanzines roamed the face of the earth...y'know, of picking up punk rock platters at the local music emporium thinking we were big shots ownin' those 99-cent Flamin' Groovies albums! And what's best about it is that Lindsay is NOT
charging us an arm and a leg to download these and that it's freefreeFREE!!!!, a fact that certainly is wonderful for folk like us who can't always afford such luxuries even though we've tried our darndest! Here's a big hefty hearty BLOG TO COMM huzzah to you for your public service Lindsay, and don't ever catch me saying that Scotsmen are cheap because you certainly have given us a bargain that we can't pass up on!
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Haven't had any whatcha'd call "rock 'n roll dreams" as of late but a few nights ago whilst in the midst of a rather strange 'un I came up with a great, cornballus riddle that I thought was pretty funny considering that it popped into my head whilst snuggled up inna arms of Morpheus. Here it is...Q: Do you know the name of a frustrated science fiction writer? A: H. G. Willikers! Heck, I'm still laughing at that one just like the people in the dream I told it to were, and if you wanna impress your friends and family with this pearl please do so but don't forget to give credit where my subconscious mind is due.
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Well, after all THAT blabber-on here are the reviews of some (if not most, if not ALL) of the platters I've been spinning this past week! Well, at least the ones I've spun when I wasn't playing my usual current favorites which just happen to be the same krautrock klassics with hefty Velvets/Stooges references in 'em since sometimes I suffer system overkill when I listen to the actual artifacts too much. Once again I must thank the likes of Bill Shute, Robert Fo'ward and Paul McGarry for sending me these tea coasters (you'll know which of these I didn't purchase on my lonesome since I mention they are "burns"), and also thanks to my employer for paying me so I could snatch up the rest of these time wasters! Maybe there's something in this batch that'll tickle your fancy (if I were writing about a Gallic act would that mean they would "French tickle your fancy???") but then again do any of you really care? (Frankly I should say not!)



The Jimmy Giuffre 3&4-NEW YORK CONCERTS 2-CD set (Elemental Music)

Although I've pretty much enjoyed just about everything I've ever heard by this now-deceased avant jazz pioneer I gotta admit that a good portion, if not all, of what I have heard was, how shall I say, rather chamber jazz-y. Nothing wrong with that, but sometimes I'm in the mood for the wild ravings of a Roscoe Mitchell or Archie Shepp and the fifties-bred style of a Giuffre or George Russell just doesn't light my nodes in the exact same way. Now there are moments when Giuffre's drummerless trios do strike a certain chord of introspective ennui with me but frankly, I'm not the kinda guy who likes to hide under the bed ALL day and don't you just know it!

But on these mid-sixties live sets (recorded with the express purpose that they be broadcast once and forever locked up!) Giuffre shows that he's absorbed the better aspects of the entire Coltrane/Coleman wing of jazz erudition  On disque #1 Giuffre plays in a trio setting along with noted bassist Richard Davis and drummer Joe Chambers sounding a lot like the way Ornette Coleman did right around the time of his first retirement trip late-'62 way. Still rooted in the bop of the previous decade yet with that dark intense feeling that got more'n a few goatee'd pseudo-intellectual college kids' hearts a'flutter, Guiffre even does a Coleman composition ("Crossroads" which appeared under that title on the LIVE AT THE HILLCREST CLUB making me wonder where Guiffre heard the thing since it didn't even get released until the late seventies!) so you know just how far he'd wandered from the Thundering Herd at this stage in the game!

The second 'un features Guiffre in quartet setting from a few months earlier with Chambers still on the drums, but with bassist Barre Phillips and Don Friedman on piano. Another boffo set even though Friedman's playing is more or less copasetic and doesn't really add to the performance and Phillips still seems to be feeling himself out on his gear, or am I being presumptuous as usual? Still, more of the original new thing as is was being unraveled before our very ears, and not-so-surprisingly both platters show a tension and dare-I-say "maturity" that I really haven't heard in many of the new players of the old form these past two decades or so.

By the way, this month marks the fiftieth anniversary of the legendary "October Revolution in Jazz" and if you wanna celebrate it the way any proper BLOG TO COMM fan and follower would, howzbout sneaking some Giuffre in with your Cecil Taylor and Albert Ayler? Wouldn't hurt, y'know?
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Bogs Visionary Orchestra-RECESSION SPECIAL CD-r (CD Baby)

Have you ever wondered what hold in the wall the new generation of Holy Modal Rounders-styled urban folk groups were hidin' their little butterbuns in? Well look no further, for outside of the infamous Muscular Christians there's also Bogs Visionary Orchestra to contend with. Not since the early days of the Rounders have such brill downhome lower east side sounds been set forth complete with mandolin, accordion and a singer who might look a bit like John Cale but sounds as if he just walked off Walton's Mountain after giving John Boy a good kick in the 'nads. Nothing that makes me wanna scream hosannas of huzzah like HAVE MOICY! does, but a good country folk thumper and I'll bet that even their other releases are worth a spin or two if you have the moolah and are so inclined. (Ten points docked for the political number regarding the "First Amendment" as if the likes of Bog ever cared for it pertaining to anybody but themselves, or so I get the idea!)
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Allah Las-WORSHIP THE SUN CD-r burn (originally on Innovative Leisure)

Another relative new-ish underground pop act that's more or less the latest in a long line of white rock groups that are continuing a lineage of new wave precociousness begun by Talking Heads. Actually they're pretty nice and pleasant with some good songcraft to their name, but as usual there's nothing here that grips me the way a whole slew of 1964-1981 vintage rock (of an underground and mainstream variety) does. If you are one who still pines away for the days of the Paisley Underground and those early issues of BUCKETFULL OF BRAINS (actually an all time wowzer) you'll enjoy this but for me...eh!
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Sun Ra and his Arkestra-IN THE ORBIT OF RA 2-CD-r burn  (originally on Strut, Germany)

Longtime Ra-man Marshall Allen slapped this double set consisting of old and newies together, and as far as it being any what-cha'd-call "representative" slice of the Ra pie goes it does itself rather well. Nothing of the extremely outer-worldly here, but IN THE ORBIT does have that nice straight lilt to it that reminds me of the Arkestra at their late-fifties/early-sixties Big Bandiest clinking plenty of percussion along with the rest of all that exotica, at least enough to give Les Baxter a bad case of the hemorrhoids. Some familiar faves you've probably heard for years on end are here true, but so are some different takes, different renditions and even a couple all-newies to your ear so quit complaining like you're still five years old and you didn't get your Maypo!
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The Hoodoo Rhythm Devils-THE LOST ALBUM; LIVE FROM NEW YORK CD-rs (Rear Window, available via CD Baby)

Always on the lookout for a good outta-the-way discovery, I first became intrigued with the Hoodoos after reading a review of a live Max's gig that was reported in the pages of NIX ON PIX (of all places!), a fanzine that hit the same masterful heights of TEENAGE WASTELAND GAZETTE and CRETINOUS CONTENTIONS as far as crafty satire went even though you'll probably never read a word of any of those rags no matter how long you live. That writeup made these neo-Dixieites come off like one of the better bunches to approach older forms of music with an early-seventies rock approach in gear, and although I wasn't expecting their takes on fifties classics updated for seventies tastes to be as perfecto as ELECTRIC WARRIOR's were well, they seemed a good enough gamble, and who woulda thunk that any of their material would still be available even this late inna game!?!?!

But it is, and being the adventurous sorta stroon that I am I decided to scarf these two available platters (there's also a "best of") that CD Baby has put up for sale. And y'know what? They really ain't my type of rockist thrills being too much on the seventies heavy side for me (using "heavy" as a pejorative as in hippoid tokes 'n smokes 'stead of punkoid needles 'n Burroughs)  to enjoy, especially whilst in the throes of seventies innovation and on the hunt for the long-forgotten hard rock grail. The Hoodoos do sound typical of what many a seventies outta nowhere band coulda cooked up true, and while they ain't offensive and in fact rather listenable at times it's that...uh, one singer with the gruff overdrive voice who makes me think he's gonna be singin'"I'm gonna get me a woman!" that drags this down quite a bit!

THE LOST ALBUM features mostly if not allly covers of fifties faves, and while it thankfully doesn't insult the memory of alla 'em original hits with their primitive poundouts and puerile production it does have way too much seventies hippoid overload not that dissimilar to what alla those Dead-like biker bands were doing around the same time. Nothing wrong with that (I think), and I frankly can take listening to this in small doses. But it's like eating a tub of yogurt when your heart's all set on a nice juicy cheeseburger, and as Patrick Analream can tell you my heart is set on cheeseburger rock rather'n yogurt and in case you're interested you can eat all of the rectums your heart so desires Pat dear!

The live 'un was actually recorded at the studios of WLIR-FM in Hampstead Long Island, and considering how the same station also used to air similar sessions by the likes of everyone from Lou Reed to Big Star I get the feeling that these broadcasts were intended to hype upcoming gigs at various local hotspots such as the Academy of Music or Max's for that matter. In all it's a nice showcase for the group to stretch out and have fun while hyping some upcoming show, but still the performance can tend to be a li'l too straight-ahead commercial for a guy like me who really goes for something a li'l more'n the same old in my sounds. Again this is not too bad, but I find the usual seventies good timey styles to be rather trite in the wake of what else was happening in rockist circles around the very same time!

(The Dr. Pepper commercials that appear seem to be the highlight of the set, reminding me of the days when that hallowed soft drink was constantly vying for the youth market what with its advertising on AMERICAN BANDSTAND for years on end. Pick up a few bottles and down it while listening to the Devils do their fifties re-dos and who knows, it might all actually sound better!)
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Lauren Agnelli-LOVE ALWAYS FOLLOWS ME CD (Bongo Beat Canada, also available via CD Baby)

Onetime Trixie A. Balm (former Nervus Rex/Washington Square) does the chanson d'amore schtick really good on this platter which has the former rock "writer" (NOT "critic") doing the e-z listening soft piano and martoonies act pretty convincingly. For her old-time fans she throws in an acoustic guitar an electro-wave number at the end, but otherwise this is the kinda stuff you used to hear in those lounge scenes on fifties tee-vee private eye shows back when smoking and drinking weren't nary the evil habits they tend to be now (translation: "kids, it's OK to JACK OFF!") And you know what, Agnelli does a very convincing job of it even if your Unca Louie's still gonna think she's another hippie fake out to make fun of his generation. Knocked a WHOLE LOTTA POINTS for featuring a back cover blurb by ANGELA'S ASHES author Frank McCourt, perhaps the worst person to sully the Irish People and her Common Core Values since Ian Paisley if not that that ever-lovin' blockhead Oliver Cromwell (I think Sinead O'Connor, the Virgin Prunes and Bono fit in here somewhere as well)!
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Various Artists-DONNA MARIE ROSEMARY RAINBOW CD-r burn (courtesy Bill Shute)

Nothing but early-sixties schmoozers here, most of which remind me of not only the importance of tee-vee during those days but the frightening fact that maybe those rock snobs who think the sixties began with the Beatles mighta been right after all. Actually it ain't all girly-girl cutesy-pie sounds here since some of this coulda fit into a 1978 Jonathan Richman show with mucho ease, but a whole lotta the mewl is standard kiddoid gunch that Frank Zappa used to make fun of as if he was so above it all. And after hearing some of these numbers, maybe he was! Does earn a hefty bonus point for including a side by the Treytones (of BACK FROM THE GRAVE fame) who were from Warren Ohio and sure did a wild Bo Diddley beat on their '63 vintage "Nonymous"! Unfortunately "Blind Date" ain't that tip top but at least we've got some home pride here, I guess.

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BOOK REVIEW! SPACE DAZE by Dave Thompson (Dave Thompson books 1996, 2009)

Really, this ain't a bad book if you're interested in coagulating a li'l history regarding the birth and development of space rock, but if I didn't just tell you that there's something missing in this outerworldly tome well, this wouldn't be a BLOG TO COMM review now, would it?

For what it is, SPACE DAZE is a rather patchworky cut 'n paste that purports to be a history of that bizzaroid form of rock 'n roll music that popped out of the strange miasma known as late-sixties psychedelia we've been calling space rock. Or at least we started to call it that ever since that debut Captain Beyond LP with the 3-D cover came out. Oh yeah, there was space rock before that creeping about on the instrumental charts (who'd doubt that :Telstar" was the unheralded granddaddy of it all?), but we're talking about the more sci fi-ish-cum-fantasy musings that were birthed outta way too many readings of EC comics while West Coast rock wailed from the speakers (and don't forget the extracurricular stimulation while you're at it!). And as far as relaying that primal feeling, sound and energy goes I would say that Thompson does it hit and miss. It's all here but it just doesn't gel the way I wished it would which leads me to believe that maybe """""I""""" am the one in need of insight and inspiration. And you know how much that costs an ounce these days.

Well, at least author Thompson covers most if not all of the major bases in these 216 pages so we get nice 'n perhaps even hefty rundowns on alla our outer space favorites from Pink Floyd to Gong and quite a few points in between. Not ALL points since I did mention that the author forgot a whole load of outerworldly gems in his search for the cosmic crown (and he does at times put down some of the acts I do go for, like Sameti which doesn't exactly "bug" me but does chalk up a few pangs of negative energy), but I guess he just hadda've left some things out! Hey, it ain't like you're bound by law to cram it all into your book in the here and now, right? I mean, leave something for the 2029 update!

Thankfully the author's propeller beanie is on tight most of the time which is a relief considering the interstellar turdburger this book coulda been. Hawkwind naturally earn beaucoup pages which is totally fitting if expected, and come to think of it so do the rest of the Ladbrook Grove groovers like the Deviants and Pink Fairies even if their music wasn't exactly the same sorta space rock that I think most planet orbiters had in mind. The Floydian camp rates high as well as do the krautscapaders which really gets one drooling and hefty big huzzah freom me, and thank heavens that Thompson also seems to have the proper BLOG TO COMM taste modes firmly in gear so we're thankfully spared the Chris Welch version of seventies rock with massive heartfelt dribbles directed at the likes of Emerson Lake and Palmer and their rather erudite ilk. Gotta admit that's something that really helps this book go down smoothly especially since you just happened to pick up that latest ROLLING STONE your hippie sis left onna counter and you just gotta cleanse your system with something!

SPACE ROCK does have the tendency to jump around from one subject and chapter to another with nothing but the barest thread to keep it all ever-so-slightly connected. Thus the tome begins with a hefty appreciation of the Hawkwind journey before leaping into the realm of Syd Floydism before heading into Jimi territory with such a free for all approach that I kinda get the idea that Tristan Tzara did the editing. But I guess that by the time you finish it's all just one nice juicy blur to the point where everything does seem make sense in that all encompassing cosmic way, and come to think of it that's how I usually end up feeling after spinning SPACE RITUAL in its entirety! Yes Thompson does have not only his music, but his readers down pat 100%.

As you'd expect there ain't much new information regarding these acts presented that you can't really find elsewhere so it's probably gonna come off like old hat to many of you olde tymey readers. But if you're a new tymey one this might make for a good starting place. I for one really enjoyed it as a reminder of my old musical listening days gone by and if you're the kinda blubberfarm who used to prowl the import bins wishing you could dish out the twelve bucks that those Ohr albums were going for a good thirty-five-plus years back then man, this is the book for you!

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As you can tell by the lack of meat being presented, this was a particularly Quinlan-esque week. Blame it on everything...the lack of new spinners to make their way to my door, the lack of new spinners that I'd actually wanna dish out a hefty amt. of moolah for, and (most of all) the lack of any real impetus or desire to crank out anything of which you'd particularly wanna call "special" this go 'round. Heck, if it weren't for the contributions of Paul McGarry and Bill Shute to the music kitty there wouldn't be hardly anything to this week's post, so if you gotta blame anyone, blame THEM...

But before you do, howzbout lending your eyeballs to these rather turdly reviews of a buncha platters that just might inspire you in some positive way, but knowing the kinda readers I have that would seem rather unlikely...


ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK; DEADBEAT AT DAWN CD (Asmodeus Productions, available through CD Baby)

The music really doesn't hold up that well w/o the full-on visuals creasing yr cones, but if you liked that particularly gruesome bloodbath of a film you just might like this ltd. ed. soundtrack album just as much. True it's got some pretty turdbally electronic casio crap that brings back most of the reasons as to why I loathe the eighties (and beyond), but then again a little bit of DEADBEAT's pulsating prance does suit me more than fine. And who knows, it just might be the soundtrack for your own carnage that's been cooking up in that diseased brain of yours. Decapitate some noggins and bite off a few fingers while this one spins in yr mind....
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Mystic Braves-DESERT ISLAND CD-r burn (originally on Lollipop)

Well, I must admit that had I the choice this 'un'd not be one of my top pix for a "desert island disc", but it's hokay in itself. I must admit that these "sixties revivalist" types who made up a hefty part and parcel of eighties underground rock just ain't as excitement-inducing as they were thirty years back, but these Braves still put up a good psychedelic poppy sound on this brand spanking new release. Rather 1966 El Lay in feel, complete with a swirling Doors-y organ and cheesy/fun guitar lines. A few tracks here coulda made it onto PEBBLES VOL. 5 had this been around back then and who knows, if you still have your Keith Relf wig and pointy-toe shoes (as well as a three-piece suit you can still fit in) this just might be your album of the year!
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The Ugly Beats-BRAND NEW DAY CD-r burn (originally on Get Hip)

I often wonder whatever happened to the old UGLY BEAT fanzine! That not-so-periodical read was one of my faves, but I suspect that it got washed away into the ocean of good rockism intentions by the wave of CONFLICT imitators that had come out in the meanwhile. It does seem fitting that this new "retro" garage band has named themselves after this mag o' yore, since these guys present the same sort of mid-sixties tough garage pop with a quick dash of psych that UGLY BEAT used to rave to the roof, or at least to the saddle staples.

If you think that the AM radio '66/'67 cusp produced more than a few shards of brilliant teenage tinny transistor trackage, you'll probably like these guys even more'n me! But sheesh, that name of theirs only makes me wonder when this fanzine's gonna get back into gear...hey, I did send 'em plenty moolah for a twenny-year subscription and like, I only got two issues outta it!
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Twin Peaks-WILD ONION CD-r burn (originally on Grand Jury)

Yeah this is one of those nice one-time-only spinners just like the two items mentioned directly above, but that doesn't mean that it's a turdburger or anything of that icky caliber. In fact like the above, WILD ONION is a pretty good platter although the music being made on it ain't exactly the sorta stuff that makes me wanna run out and kiss the first bow wow I see. It's for those rock et roll fans who like the post-eighties revival garage/six-oh style around the time it began shedding its seventies punk underground feel for something a li'l more sleek. Not bad really with a tad of Beatles here, Stones there and even some Sparks and Roxy Music musings scattered throughout making for one of those listening experiences that doesn't sound 2014 at all...and THANK GOODNIZ FOR THAT!!!.
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THE EMPTY HEARTS CD-r burn (originally on 429 Records)

An'YEAH, this is even yet another one-time-only effort from yet another retro-retro group, one who I can find little if NADA fault with even though there's some sorta strange sameness that keeps me from wanting to clasp this platter to mine boobies and lactate all over it. Good stuff for those of you who still hold on to your old UGLY BEAT'zines with an impassioned fervor as if 1985 was still up and about, and I can't criticize 'em in any way/shape/form for the music they've laid down on this four-inch slab o' aluminum 'n plastic. And although I've "heard it all before" I don't mind hearing it again, at least for once in my strooned-out life!
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John Hicks-HELLS BELLS CD-r burn (originally on Strata East)

Surprisingly fluid piano trio led by the once out and about Hicks that ain't the usual avant garde crunch I go for but so what. A bit in the free mode but closer to the late-fifties bop/avant realm using the best of both styles. The results are a whole lot more exciting'n listening to that guy Billy Joel was singin' about in "Piano Man", and if you're the kind who liked those early Sun Ra albums before he started to really reach out for interstellar strata you just might enjoy this obscure effort as well. (But knowing you readers it's like I ain't gonna bet on it!)
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Various Artists-DIAMOND CARTOON BUBBLES CD-r burn (this week's Bill Shute offer upper!)

Well, """""I""""" found it a whole lot more in tune with my sense of scuzz'n I did last week's Bill Shute pick! Not only does this 'un have a coupla beer ads for you boozers out there but Dave Diamond (of PEBBLES VOLUME 3 fame!) shows up via an on-air poetry rap while the UC Trojan Marching Band blast out Free's "All Right Now" during halftime which really fits in with the autumn season we're now wallowing in up here in the Northern Hemisphere. Song poetess Erica Laine merely talks over a poesy submission rather'n sing it (as if she could!) while Dick Elliot and the Cartoon Cowboys do funny animation-style voices on the novelty winner "Ouch Ouch Ouch"!

For real har-dee-har-hars try the Two Petes with their "Bee Gees Medley" (sounds like something ya woulda heard on a CBGB audition night in 1989 right before the big hook came out'n dragged 'em off the stage) while Grasshopper's "Witch's Blood in a Sauce" is one example of modern avant garde music that doesn't make me wanna blow up the local university's "school of music"! And it's all topped off by a selection from a Telly Savalas radio interview where the famed Greek detective not only gives us a li'l background on just how he got into the singing biz but spins a track from his new platter which is bound to bring a tear to an eye of alla those old FM radio hi-fi nuts who still mourn the passing of Nelson Riddle. A real keeper you got here, Bill (as if I've thrown away anything you've sent my way, even the other CD-rs and DVD's that wouldn't play)!
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In closing (and to pad this rather midge-y post out a bit), here's a rarity that's bound to curl your straighties, a rare appearance by none other than that mad magician himself Geofrey C/Krozier with the Indian Medicine Magik Show on Australian black 'n white tee-vee in 1970! Heavy Metal didgeridoo, and I do mean it!

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MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! RAIDERS FROM BENEATH THE SEA starring Ken Scott and Merry Anders! (Lippert, 1964)

Yikes! Bill sends me yet another mad heist flick in the tradition of DAYTON'S DEVILS which makes me wonder...does Bill want me to get involved with some sorta devious criminal plan to do a li'l robbin' himself, and this is his way of getting me involved? Can't believe it, unless Bill has his eye on the ATM machine around the corner and he wants me to yell "Chickee The Cop!" while he picks at it with a hairpin!

Of course that wouldn't make an exciting moving unless I did a nude scene in ir 'r somethin', but I will say that RAIDERS FROM BENEATH THE SEA is a really good pull off that unbelievable heist kinda flick that kept me wide 'n awake, or was it the ten bottles of Dr. Pepper I just downed?

In this 'un, terminally unemployed skin-diver Bill Harper (failed leading man Ken Scott) works out what seems like the most perfect-o plan to rob a Catalina Island bank and get away with it by scuba-ing his way under a ferryboat and attaching loot to the the bottom of said ship which thus takes said moolah straight to land. Seems simple enough, but then again Harper's got quite a Herculean task ahead of him...first he reels an reluctant old friend into the scheme and along the way this cornpone-y Texan type who would be more in place on GREEN ACRES somehow wiggles his way into the plot. So does Harper's horny kid brother who just happens to have his eyes fixated on Harper's wife's nookie, and of course along the way the four of 'em are at each other's throats to the point where you think that the whole thing's gonna fall apart before it even starts but...

Well, let's just say that they at least proceed with their dastardly plans, and the way they work up to it really does keep my mind from wandering about like these mooms sometimes tend to do. In fact I was downright enthralled by the boffo early-sixties look 'n feel as well as the wobbly if strong enough plot, not to mention that MONDO CANE-inspired music that weaves in and out of the entire production.

The only thing that really bugged me about RAIDERS FROM BENEATH THE SEA was the fact that the juicy actual crime pull off part just goes by too fanabla fast for me. No teasing, fake outs or outright surprises are in store for you like they are in DAYTON'S DEVILS and yeah, ya already know that the bad boys are gonna get caught and the heisted loot splattered across the sea, but at least they shoulda strung everything out a whole lot more'n they actually did because if you blink you'll miss it. I almost did, even though I watched the last few minutes at least five times to let what actually happened digest in my brain.

But fortunately this is not the turkey film the dolts at the imdb make it out to be, and I gotta admit that even with the huge gaping holes in the plot and the whys and wherefores that'll pop into any conscious viewer's bean it's a fun one for sure. And if you doubt me just remember, it was only a few years from fun movies like this to Marlo Thomas in JENNY and YOU tell me which one was the real turdburger!

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Yeah, as you can (and will) plainly see I've had yet another one-a-them snoozeroonies of a week here. Really, I must state repeatedly until you're blue in the face that if it weren't for the care packages that Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and a few other fiends out there send on scant occasion I dunno where I'd be music-wise. Not that there's much being created out there that makes me wanna run to the record shop with my hard-begged just anxious to buy the place out like I woulda loved to back when I was an impatient yet earnest enough teenbo, but then again has ANYTHING let alone rock 'n roll been the same since the early-eighties at the very latest????

For those of you who do care in that deep down 'n sensitive Phil Donahue sorta way I've been spinning a whole lotta old and well-traveled material o'er the past week. My tastes these days tend to run towards what I  (and Jymn Parrett) would call the metal electricity of the late-sixties punk rockers. Dunno if Jymn's and my definitions match up 100% sympatico (Jymn used that term to describe the ever-popular big time favorite IT'S ALL MEAT), but for me it can entail anything from the more obvious faves such as the Stooges and Thirteenth Floor Elevators to the early krautscapading of both Amon Duuls and Can along with various English "People's Rock" bands I get the feeling most of the people have never heard of let alone heard. Whatever you may care to conjure up in your pretty little mind that's pretty much where my musical parameters lie nowadays, and if you know of any interesting platters that I should be on the lookout for which fall within the bounds I've set for this week's dining and dancing pleasure please let me know (or keep 'em to yourself if you wanna be a big turd about it!).
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Speaking of Jymn Parrett, if you're in the mood for something a little more exciting than foreskin cleaning you might want to check out the updated DENIM DELINQUENT site for some fresh material that's bound to take the starch outta your skivvies! New layout, new features and (now get this) a whole lotta tweeted photos etc.of your and my rock (and not so) fave raves, most of which I've never had the opportunity to see before! It'd do you good to check this 'un out and while you're at it write Jymn Parrett an email or letter telling him to hurry up with that DD compilation that might be a lost cause after all but who knows??? It's stuff like this site which revitalizes my faith in mankind and maybe even ladykind for that matter and the more people who stop in the better I always say!
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HAVING A LACK OF ROCK 'N ROLL RELATED DREAMS THESE PAST FEW MONTHS, I really made up for the dearth this past Monday night! It started off rather non-rock-y actually, what with me meeting up with this gal I knew from high stool (kinda cute Eyetalian who would actually talk to me sometimes non-condescendingly at that) who was having an all-girl party which looked as if it was going to take place at my aunt's house! However, when I go into the basement (which was at my place!), I discover that the mid-seventies version of the Rolling Stones are having their own party in the knotty pine recreation room! Mick Jagger asks me if I could procure one of the female partygoers on the main floor to come down so the Stones could cut the soles of her feet up with sharp razors (!), and although I find it a rather strange request and shudder at the mere thought of it I do thusly.

Upstairs the girls just giggle and say "no thanks" which I relay to Jagger and Company, at which point they get violent and, as a way to relieve burning hostile anxieties brewing inside them, begin to attack me with fists, a variety of sharp knives and other weapons meant to do my flabby body a whole lotta harm!

Of the group, Jagger and Richards were the most violent, waiting to corner and gouge me with a voracious fury while Ron Wood was running a close second brandishing a particularly lethal-looking (and dirty) hunting knife that matched the bloodlust look on his mug. Strangely enough Bill Wyman was missing but get this, Charlie Watts was short and pudgy and looked more like Ian Stewart than the tall ape-like creature who has manned the Stones drum chair for all these years.

In case you'd like to know I fared well in my defense, grabbing handy items to ward the group off at every turn even when trapped between some old pieces of furniture or cobwebby basement corner. One thing I had to my advantage in surviving this onslaught is that sometimes the Stones would turn against each other, like when Jagger came after me only to be intercepted by Richards going after Mick before he would go after me...I knew there was bad blood between the two but this was ridiculous! And hey, since I arised that morn hearty and sound you could say that I won this battle with a buncha decadent rockstars whose idea of entertainment far exceeds anything you or I would dare conjure up!
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And after a dream like that you now know why I like to drown myself in the sweet and soothing sounds of pure unadulterated cacophony! And here is but a smidgen of this week's share!


Neu!-'72 LIVE IN DUSSELDORF CD-r burn (originally on Captain Trip, Japan)

I'm really surprised that Bill sent me a burn of this necessary (if oft dismissed) Neu! release! The guy really shoulda known by now that I would have had this 'un in my collection and have reviewed said spinner in a number of places o'er the years, and if I must say it I must...Bill, I am disappointed in your lack of knowledge regarding my at times over ram-bunk-shuh krautrockain faith! Tsk!

But at least his li'l gift has given me a reason to play this 'un again and like, it ain't like I'm frothing at the mouth pissed about it. Not exactly "live", these rehearsal tapes feature the Neu!-cleus of Michael Rother and Klaus Dinger with onetime Kraftwerk bassist Eberhard Kranemann working out something that I assume was akin to the group's early live shows, and as far as transposing those motorific Dusseldorf sounds to something that could be performed in front of an audience goes I personally think the act succeeded und midt flying colors as vell. Noisy, careening guitar and a steady beat goes to show you that Neu! had just as much of a heavy duty respect for the Stooges as Kraftwerk did, and that's no bunk junk either, punk!
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The Mekons-THE MEKONS STORY 1977-1982 CD (Buried Treasure Records, available via CD Baby)

Unlike many of you serioso punque aficionados I never was that much of a Mekons/Three Johns fan even though my inner sense tells me that maybe I should have been. Perhaps it was that knock of 'em in the pages of KICKS that soured any interest in 'em, but then again I was getting burned by a whole load of very late-seventies English imports and maybe I didn't wanna get stuck with yet another one for the local Record Exchange, and heaven knows they already were brimming full of the latest wares on the Fast Product label!

Sorry to disappoint alla ya, but I can dig this 'un in small doses sorta like I can dig those Messthetics samplers. Of course with those you don't always get to heard those group's sluggier moments like you do here. I'll bet its a good 'un for the diehard post-punk snoots amongst us, but if yer tastes do stretch into rockier terrain you'll probably stash this 'un in a box with the rest of your less favorite spins until you read the next Lester Bangs/Mekons mention on some long-forsaken website...I know I sure will!
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Gerald Mohr in THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP MARLOWE CD-r burn

More old radio drama courtesy B.S. himself, and they're even better'n the ones they play on Sirius XM because you get to hear all of the original ads! Mohr does it about as good as all those other Marlowes you've heard and seen, and listening to this tough guy celebrate his testosterone-riddled lifestyle beating up (and getting beaten) while fighting against the odds really does help restore my faith in a planet that has become pussified beyond belief.

Episode #1...Marlowe gets involved with the mean and violent son of this lovable-yet-dumb-foreigner who's running around with a local tough (of course I'm talking about the son running around with the badski, and fifth grade English class be damned!) while in #2 he 's hired by this milquetoast sexagenarian whose loving wife has split the premises but after awhile we all get the idea that something's really fishy and I do mean tuna! A better way to spend yer evenings'n watching CSI, and it has more bang per buck while yer at it!.
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THE SPOTNICKS CD-r burn (originally on President, France)

Gotta admit that as far as early sixties rock 'n roll group pangs may go, the Spotnicks are up there with Johnny and the Hurricanes, the Fendermen, the Rock-A-Teens, String-A-Longs and a whole slew of acts that epitomized the better aspects of teenage music frolics between the late-fifties and the arrival of the English Invasion only a few years later. After that well, you know what happened (the Spotnicks even grew their hair long 'n started covering Gordon Lightfoot!), and it wasn't exactly a pretty sight! But on this album the original group's in their prime doing that Euro-tinged instrumental rock that coulda had that weird dank Olde Worlde dinginess to it but in this case the sterility works! Boffo covers of everything from "Take Five" to "Telstar" done up like you'd think a buncha Swedes in spacesuits would do 'em, and of course the top notch "Orange Blossom Special" gets stuck inna mix for alla you who missed out on it the first time around!
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Various Artists-BEAUTIFUL DEUCES WITHOUT PITY CD-r (this week's entry into the Bill Shute Conceptual Thrift Store vaults)

Snappy selection of hard-to-find goodies on this'un ranging from the very first Mitch Ryder single (sure hadda long way t'go!) to a track by a Mr. Bear who I somehow don't think is Bob Richert of GULCHER fame to some rare bloozey jazz from Martha Davis and Spouse as well as one of a billion Peter and the Wolves that were roaming the forests of mid-six-oh local rock group realm. Bill even found it in his heart to slip on more of those Rodd Keith song-poem selections, but the man really outdid himself presenting a total of SIX versions of "Town Without Pity " done up by a buncha obscuros as well as the likes of Brian Setzer and James Chance.  It would be a fun thing if somebody was able to do the "plunderphonics" treatment with alla these, but don't hold my breath! Closing out the side is Booker Ervin doin' some of that bop unto free playing that might sound quaint to you but sure sounds total shape of jazz to come to these lobes!
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Various Artists-WATERMELON RUBBERBAND WARRANT CD-r burn (see above)

Given the lack of fresh newies this go'round I figure hey, why not another Bill Shute burn even if I was planning on saving 'em for one-a-post if only to look not too beholden to the man. A good 'un too, starting off with some tasty enough soul from an Eddie Bo before some Mideastern gal does the local tabouli restaurant schtick with the wild music and gun shots to boot. Might come in hand when the jihad finally makes its way to your front door more sooner than later!

Australia's Ash are fairly good early-seventies hard rock but no Coloured Balls nohow! And yeah, it's always good hearing people like Jackie Vernon and Eddie Lawrence especially in these days when their kinda humor has gone down the turdly tunnel at the expense of a buncha scolds.

The rest is quite up t' notch, what with Chuck Carbo doing a pretty upbeat funkster and Smoke (who I assume are the Kim Fowley-produced band) cranking out some mildly pleasant late-sixties hard rock gunch. Art Neville and Wazir Afzal reprise the funk and Mideast motifs respectively while THAT Jim Henson does fine in his tribute to Spike Jones and a whole slew of fifties music-related comedy capers. And Wax Museum close it all out with more standard seventies hard rockism that ain't anything special, but stack it up against the current top ten and whoa!!!

A good 'un here Bill...dint get bored one iota and it kept me poppin' on all cylinders while it was at it. Almsot makes up for the dearth of new and fresh rockscapading that's probably ne'er to make it to my ears!

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As I've often said, "imitations iz a stoned groove!" And I mean it too. ESPECIALLY whether or not I be talking about some cheap knockoff of a hit moom pitcher, tee-vee show, rock 'n roll ideal, automobile design or even food product because not only are the imitations cheaper 'n a $1.98 whore, but sometimes they take on a life all their own even though their "creators" never woulda thunk it in a millyun years!

True, you can plunk down the full price for a box of Frosted Flakes or Twinkies, but for the same taste (sometimes even better!) and a whole lot less outta your wallet you can get the store brand version at the local supermarket! And not only that but you can feel satisfied that the illegal aliens who were shoveling this counterfeit Cap'n Crunch into boxes aren't making as much as some unionized oaf sitting on his butt all day, thus keeping the cost and prices down for many a penny pinching mongrel who can't give two whits about the poor 'n downtrodden! Yes, cheapness transcends all sorts of decency boundaries, but then again look at alla moolah you'll be able to spend on all of the important things in life...like even more cheapo imitations!

Naturally, nowhere is the pleasure of zilch-dimensional crank outs better felt'n in the world of comics! It could be comic strips or better yet comic books, because at least in the book world the inferior copy ain't as prevalent as the strip because it ain't playin' on the same page! But as anyone who has read BINKY can tell ya it sure helps if a comic book is hidden away onna newsstand just waitin' for some nearsighted twelve-year-old pimplepuss gal to snatch it up thinking she's getting the latest issue of one of the Archie line of teenbo thrills, only to have her get home 'n she's still stupid enough to think that this is Archie only it ain't Archie but so what because it kinda looks like Archie even if the stories are about as coherent as your three-year-old nephew stringing a line of non sequiters worthy of your average street bum! I'll tell ya, it really does my heart good to know that such conniving tricksters are out there preying upon the pre-teen future fag hags of this land of ours!

That's undoubtedly why I really got a huge sickoid laugh outta the entire 1969-70 run of Marvel's PETER THE LITTLE PEST comics that I scarfed up a good five or so months back. Y'see, I actually paid good moolah for these if only because they were a stinkoid copy of the rill thing! Always on the lookout for a good ripoff, I figure that I couldn't do better'n snatch these fifties Atlas-era DENNIS THE MENACE swipes (originally wrangling under the names DEXTER THE DEMON and MELVIN THE MONSTER*) that were birthed from the fevered if cribbing imagination of Stan Lee** along with onetime Atlas mainstay Joe Maneely doing the art, and once again I was right onna moolah happier'n that gal who sent away for a breast enlarger and got a photo of a man's hand.

Like a distant fuzzy UHF station airing that series you've wanted to see for years or a liquid Jello that just didn't make it, these comics really underscore the basis of a half-there, derailed suburban slob upbringing done on the cheap end of the stick, and as you would have guessed by now BOY CAN I RELATE TO THESE BLATANT IMITATIONS EVEN THOUGH MY BETTER SENSE SHOULD HAVE ME THROWIN''EM ALL INNA INCINERATOR!!!

Originally appearing during those late-fifties days when Atlas seemed to be pumping out more titles per month than even DC, PETER is everything DENNIS THE MENACE was, only less. And I like it that way. You get the same befuddled midclass parents who never ever*** wallop their kid even after he's caught sodomizing the automobile exhaust, and of course what DENNIS swipe would be complete without the dopey white dog and of course the nice fifties suburban setting! And although the Wilsons next door seem to be MIA (perhaps due to an episode that couldn't get past the Comics Code Authority because they got offed in a most gruesome if hilarious fashion) there are various demi-Joeys and Margarets to fill in the kiddie roster so desperately needed for quickie crankouts such as these.

But you certainly don't get the USDA meaty stuff and as you'd expect there's more'n a little paprika missing in the mix, just like BINKY was nothing but ARCHIE without the vermouth and you know it's true!

Of course that's the bee-you-tee of these cheap knockoffs which always came off as if the artists and writers just grabbed the superficial aspects of the item at hand and ran hog wild forgetting such things as the production, the dimension and the color that made the original such a boffo hit! 'n really, who needs stuff like that when you can just grab a whole load of bux with something that took half the time to create and'll fool just about any nutley out there who sees the Marvel logo onna front and thinks he's getting something of the same artistic and aesthetic quality as the latest X-MEN.

The jokes to be found in these sagas were obviously taken straight outta the same MINSTREL SHOW FAVORITES handbook that Lee probably got from some mid-fifties Johnson Smith ad that popped up in one of his own titles, while the art is clearly Hank Ketchum reduced a few notches keeping his basic SATURDAY EVENING POST style but looking more BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS in the long run.
 Of course taking all of the bad things about PETER and cramming 'em together adds up to the over funzie joy which I gotta admit suited a kiddoid such as myself who could tell an original from the imitation, but it sure didn't matter because it was a corny copy of the real thing but that somehow seemed appealing to me!

But man is this Peter a jackoff par excellence! A downright 'tardo if you ask me...I mean, where at least Dennis the Menace had a kinda/sorta redeeming quality about him even when he was zinging rocks at Margaret's hiney with his slingshot Peter comes off like such a pustule you'd hope somebody would disembowel him and throw his remains in a ditch! In fact may I say that he'd even a little irritating? The kid's disregard for anything on a moral plane has me thinkin' he just might be a DENNIS for the Nietzsche crowd but still there's hardly anything here that'll warm you up to this cretin who makes your average Irish kid as depicted by Thomas Nast look human.


To push the DENNIS connection up your colon even further these titles are filled with imitation daily panels right down to the amorphous shapes and senseless if happy childhood violence. Like in the Archie Comics SHRIMPY series of blatant PEANUTS imitations, the look might be there (at least if you squint your eyes a bit) but the soul and the feeling were certainly left ruminating somewhere outside with the rest of the garbage! Ya kinda get the feeling that maybe Lee was taunting Hank Ketchum with a "just try t'come 'n get me!" razz, but then again would it be worth getting raked over the copyright coals for something as zilchoid as this???

If ya can't get enough PETER (or PETEY as his title was known by the final ish of this short-lived revival) there's also the presence of "Little Pixie". She's even more vile'n Peter and once again totally without any shard of decency or values for that matter. You'll most certainly wanna bash that li'l tart's mug in whenever these stories make their way to your eye, maybe because she comes way too close to comfort to alla 'em girls you went to grade school with and I ain't kidding!

So displeasing is she that I get the feeling that when/if she grew up Pixie woulda turned out to have been Andrea Dworkin or any one of those uppity women's libber types who you see blabbin' it up incoherently whenever a microphone is shoved into their roly-poly pusses yet cry sniffles and boo-hoos when men beat 'em up (hey dames, yez s'posed to be "equal")! Real displeasing is she, though somehow I get the feeling that the youth of this world would be much better served by reading the likes of Peter and Pixie 'stead of the goony get-along characters they're being inundated with these days. After all, wouldn't you rather have your kid set fire to the school or smash out his bedroom windows instead of take a bullet for a gay politician?

Of course the real life punchline to this sordid saga came a good decade after PETER's brief revival. Y'see, in the early eighties with Marvel riding the crest of comic book popularity and branching out into various media areas unheard of even a few years earlier, the rights to the original DENNIS THE MENACE deal were acquired by the company and Dennis was a bonafeed member of the noted stable for a little over a year! I'm sure that the comic fan base was hoping that maybe the famed comic character would have crossed over into the Marvel Universe, not as an Avenger or anything along those lines but maybe doing a cameo in one of the hero titles (the closest thing we got to Dennis acknowledging his Marvel ties was when he went to Margaret's costume party dressed as Spider-Man), but I would have been satisfied if he met up with Peter and the two slugged it out for comic strip brat supremacy. And speaking of brats, I gotta see just how much Archie's own Ketchum steal PAT THE BRAT figures into all this...
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*Look closely and you'll see where all of the "Peter"s were written in by a letterer who was still aping the Hank Ketchum style yet not quite in the same way the original Ketchum imitator had!

**Lee of course was also noted for his boffo NANCY swipe LITTLE LIZZIE, the beyond-belief ARCHIE carbon copy GEORGIE as well as the too close for caga HOMER THE HAPPY GHOST way back before he finally hit comic paydirt with THE FANTASTIC FOUR.

***I gotta admit that I like it better THIS way!:



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As some of you wide awake readers might have guessed by now, obsessions have ruled a major portion of my sad 'n sorry life. When I was a kid I was all agog over dinosaurs 'n Matchbox cars (soon to spread out to all of the major manufacturers from Lonestar to Corgi) to comic strips and then books, and eventually rock and related music even if it only meant listening to some of the AM dial and shuffling through department store record bins never even dreaming that I'd ever own any of the wares that were being pushed on grade stool kids during those more action-packed days. Surprisingly enough a whole lotta these youthful free time wasters never did exit my system like so much caga, for I must admit that even in my advanced age I continue to enjoy a whole lotta the same kultural kravings that helped make me a straight "C" student during my formative years.

And I am proud to say that comics of the strip and book variety continue to be as important to me as they were back when I was first buying issues of WHERE CREATURES ROAM hot off the press liking the pre-FANTASTIC FOUR Jack Kirby art in 'em even more'n I did the stuff he was doing in MISTER MIRACLE right about the same time. By the time comics began morphing into something more'n just teenage fun 'n jamz back when Stan Lee announced he was handing over the Marvel reigns and DC began putting too much stock into the new antihero trend I knew enough to bail out and sell the entire collection off, but who could deny that there certainly were more'n a few moments in my life when I had just as much of a passion for an early Steve Ditko-drawn SPIDER-MAN saga that I later would for some heretofore unknown early-seventies Velvet Underground-emulation, and although I eventually "grew outta it" and certain medications can help the compulsive behavior trends I still can appreciate digging into the slew of comics I've snatched up o'er the past quarter century enjoying 'em all as much as I did back when I was in eighth grade 'n awaited the weekend just so I could devote more time to my favorite pastime. And it sure wasn't pubic hair weaving I'll tell you that (mainly because at that time I didn't have any!).

Now that even the comic reprint biz seems to be going down the tubes it's sure nice getting some of those four colored 'n hard covered DC and Marvel collections at depression-era prices! Well, not exactly that cheap but I sure do enjoy reading alla those long-loathed 'n forgotten stories that I coulda only dreamed
about reading back when I was swallowing alla them stories my dad usedta tell me about those Golden Age heroes he really went nuts over. True some of those sagas just ain't as juicy as I thought they would be (hadda struggle through some of them early DC stories because quite a few of them heroes were just too goody two shoes for even my galvanized stomach to handle, even to the point where I felt like rooting for the Jap-a-Nazis!) but when a certain series clicks in the right suburban slob way settling back with one of these books is perhaps thee best way to spend an afternoon next to being marooned in yer room with a stack of old CREEM and GULCHER magazines to keep you occupied.

My current comic book obsession lies within the realm of the aptly-named Quality Comics line, and before being gobbled up by the DC monolith in the mid-fifties this company certainly churned out more'n a few good heroes who unfortunately ain't getting the reprint treatment like ya know they oughta. I guess with the lagging interest in these early good guys there just won't be any of Quality's own SPIRIT ripoffs liks MOUTHPIECE, 711 or MIDNIGHT stories for me to peruse in my advanced age, but at least the Quality biggies have gotten somewhat of a red carpet treatment which certainly does this guy's free time much good. But then again, if the entire run of both THE SPIRIT and PLASTIC MAN were to be ignored by the comic publishers at hand all I could say is just how STOOPID can yez guys be treating your past as if it were something to be loathed (like today's simp-ified PC-metastasized characters represent a zenith in ranch house fun 'n jamz) while you drool all over some latterday SPIDER-MAN saga as the height of komik kulture???

Although the reams of SPIRIT imitators that Quality cranked out (hey, they knew a good trend when they saw it!) aren't going to get reprinted other'n in some anthology or on-line blog at least the original masked guy in a suit has been given his just dues. And yeah, the LAST thing I want to read in MY comic books are "comics that virtually sang and danced, laughed and cried. and that could fly..." (didn't know Anna Quindlen wrote dust jacket come ons for DC), I can still appreciate these stories even if they aren't the ones particularly drawn by cartoonist graphic novelist Will Eisner. Even though they all seem somewhat attuned to the more "sophisticated" comics dabbler no matter who's doing the art, a spiritual tardo such as myself can like 'em just as much as some enlightened hippie fanboy, and that's even without sacrificing any of my own mid-Amerigan sense of values and morality (remember that word?) like one has to do when reading just about anything passing itself off as post-postmodern entertainment these sorry days.

A quickie assessment: earliest stories are the best (I hate to say this, but there seems to be a sense of doom to the series even when Eisner dragged in Wally Wood to add some of his EC space style to a space epic) while later on sidekick Sammy just doesn't cut it the same way the oft-ridiculed Ebony White had (though I thought it nice when Ebony made a few guest appearances during the final days). The brief run of SPIRIT dailies were rather enticing almost in a DICK TRACY sorta way while the various sixties/seventies revivals came off just like that (the special one regarding the mid-sixties Lindsey/Buckley NYC mayoral race was mildly entertaining, even showing a now-grown Ebony who looked more like a young Al Roker!). And most surprising of all, the early-seventies "underground" version courtesy Kitchen Sink was not pornographic at all...always thought it woulda been a huge t&a bash because of the "Adults Only" come on but ironically it was mostly palatable material with a slight "hip" edge, but you can let the kids read it w/o worrying about their moral caliber being reduced to that of yours.

Like with THE SPIRIT, too much has awlready been spurted regarding PLASTIC MAN and although it took some time for Plas creator Jack Cole to be considered as much of a craftsman, storyteller and comic legend as Eisner why did DC have to pull the plug on THE PLASTIC MAN ARCHIVES after only eight volumes??? Just when everything is getting really hot the folk at National have to drop the series, and I really don't know who to blame, the company or the lazy comic ass readers who are probably more content with their STEROID MAN and BODY-MOLDED POLYETHYLENE BABE titles than the hot 'n cookin' stuff.. But at least they were able to crank eight of these out and like, every word 'n panel of 'em is what ya'd call "indispensable". Violent, funny, sarcastic, downright snat and with stories like these its no wonder that even Harvey Kurtzman called these stories an inspiration for the old MAD comic book. And hey, did the Kinks ever write a song about you (unless you wanna count "Ape Man")???

When you have books like these handy who needs things like human companionship and other outdated modes of self-serving niceties anyway? Gimme a cold and rainy autumn day and some SPIRIT and PLASTIC MAN along with some Savage Rose on the bedside boom box and I'll be happier'n a math teacher in a room full abacuses. Well, it's a whole lot better'n being so altruistic that you actually believe that going through the motions of voting reallty changes things, and Ayn Rand was right at least some of the time dontcha think (just ask Ditko)???
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Another week, another half-there ho-hummer of a post. As you will see, I hadda rely on a coupla old collection finds to pad this 'un out to a respectable length, and then again I don't think that the overall quality of this 'un (along with those I've popped out these past few months) are anywhere near the peak perfection that would have been found even a good year back. But then again all I gotta say is "so %$#@*& what", because once ya get down to it I'm not writing this blog for you, but for ME.


Al Caiola-TUFF GUITAR CD-r burn (originally on United Artists)

Lez jus' say I've heard tuffer. The MAGNIFICENT SEVEN stringster comes off even  gloppier on these covers of various mid-sixties faves than he had before, and when you get down to it you kinda wonder exactly who was this album recorded for anyway? It's too wild for your Aunt Flabby, and even your pop who's man enough for alla them tee-vee westerns will think this is more hippie jiz for the teenage peace 'n love crowd. In other words, a perfect one for the perennial 1965 pimplefarm nerdo high school freshman with the pocket protector, and I do mean you!
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 Amon Duul II-LEMMINGMANIA CD (Captain Trip, Japan)

Cee-Dee reissue of one of those Euro-only single side collections that you used to see cluttering up the import bins back in 1975. Only I must admit that I don't recall having seen LEMMINGMANIA in any bins I've been able to peruse at least until my 1977 venture into the record shops of Southern California and even then I didn't buy the thing. Good faves from the group's early days intermingled with a few non-LP b-sides that later on ended up as "bonus tracks" on a number of reissues, and even if you have the originals this makes for a good sampler for those times in your life when German Expressionism sure means a whole lot more to you than the gunk that came out in its wake ever did!
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Curtis Eller's American Circus-1890 CD (curtiseller.com)

Back when I used to watch the CBGB cybercasts with a voracious appetite trying to discover new and exciting groups attuned to my own strange sense of rockist elegance, I must say that I really enjoyed the sounds being coaxed forth from my speakers that were being made by quite a variety of acts nobody seemed to have heard about before and nobody would undoubtedly hear from since. And nowhere was this phenom more present than via CBGB's "sister" stage next door at CB's 313 Gallery. Acts like Lucky, Third Stone Collective, Kleiner's Kalabah Syringe and many more played there more often 'n not and what I had heard from these acts was rather encouraging what with their definitely stripped down style and approach that in many ways evoked the CBGB of 1974-1975 more than many of the current acts that were playing there could ever hope to.

Unfortunately most of these outfits never did record or if they did their releases got lost in a wash of amerindie alternative schmooze, but the ones who did sure put out some rather neet-oh recordings that still sound exciting and against-the-grain as much today as they did when I first got to hear 'em. And Curtis Eller's American Circus is no exception. Eller's a classic singer/songwriter (even if you wanna dig up the oft-loathed Joni Mitchell def. of the term) whose modus opporandi comes off just as much Holy Modal Rounders as it does the eighties breed of "anti-folk" practitioners who were taking up mucho alternative rock press space back inna late-eighties. Quite rustic in fact, yet with a whole lotta that urban broken tooth yodel that somehow reminds me of some novel about a displaced hillbilly fighting his way through a depression-era Bowery comin' up against local street toughs and five o'clock shadowed gangsters alike. Would make a good movie if it hasn't been done awlready.

If you like acoustic banjo pluck with some accordion tossed in you'll probably go for this in a big way. And even you anti-rootster types might find it a tad enjoyable although I will admit it does get kinda hard washing alla that Boone's Farm Apple Wine hippie commune imagery usually associated with latterday acoustic folk jamz outta your system.
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Fats and the Chessmen-LET'S DO THE TWIST CD-r burn (originally on Somerset Records)

Once again we hit the cheapo side of hi-fi frolicking with this '63 twist cash in available at all respectable supermarkets nationwide. A beautiful rip off it is too not only with the eye-catching yet suspicious candy-stripe cover but with the music which boasts a rather good Chubby Checker impersonator and a hot enough backing band. And hey, once you get alla those cash-in ideas outta your sophisticado mind you might just like this crank out just a tad bit. Of course it ain't anything I would call "earth shattering" and listening to a half-hour of "twist" themed music just doesn't evoke the better memories of the early-sixties the way a good LEAVE IT TO BEAVER rerun does, but for a crankout it ain't that bad and if you find a copy at the local St. Vincent's maybe it would be worth snatching up along with alla those Hello Kitty tossoffs your wannabe daughter of a son keeps begging you to buy.
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Various Artists-STRAWBERRY BOHEMIAN SAKI MADNESS CD-r burn (via. Bill Shute)

Nice-o sampler courtesy Mr. You-Know-Who, with TWO Pigmeat Markham sides (LAUGH IN lost a real talent when they let him go!), a rare Hasil Adkins track, some low-fi/budget soul ravers and some early garage finds from the likes of Jimmy McConville and the Dawnells (who do one of the more anemic versions of "Little Egypt" I've heard but wha' th' hey!). My personal fave of all these tippy toppers just HAS to be the infamous Jim Backus single side entitled "Delicious", a boff bit of fifties sophisto humor gone haywire and although it ain't as kneeslapping as "The Dirty Old Man" I still crack up listening to the future Thurston Howell III and his galpal laughing it up and making all those funny wisecracks you'll never get outta any of them dyke comics ya see all over the place in a millyun years! Somebody shoulda chained Robin Williams to a chair and made him listen to this over and over until he realized what real comedy is!

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MOOM PITCHER TRIPLE FEATURE!!! THE EL PASO KID, DAYS OF BUFFALO BILL and ALIAS BILLY THE KID starring Sunset Carson (available via. Gozillaflix.com)

Although Marxist critics have disagreed, the aesthetic nuances found in these films are highly redolent of the expressionistic cinematic ideologies of certain individualistic voices immeasurably enhanced by some of the subtleties obviously influenced by the work of Renoir (see Chauncey Heidelsmith's excellent summary in FILM BETWEEN 1942 and 1943, page 946).

But what are we to make of the striking symbolism regarding the feminist motif to be found? Such a melange of totally unrelated actions most exquisitely cross-cut could not have been conceived at the time, though from the perspective of many an anthropologist the searing indictment of bourgeois habits may have been a bit contrived. The nihilistic urges of the director notwithstanding, such elaborations have been seen as mere excess by theatregoers and Northeastern scholars alike. Still, the vividly fluent if calculated value (perhaps grossly distorted by the director's wavering attention to historical analogies) might have seemed to be just plainly generic. The smoldering lack of pathos in the supporting characters perhaps lend credence to this hypothesis.

However, as film critic Wesley Petersen recalled offhand ("Film in Fractions", EAST VILLAGE SOCKET, May 24 1961, page 19), some of the wanton destruction seen might just be a clever ruse to exact revenge on various adversarial viewers who were dismayed at previous metaphoric implications. This may be an idea that would have been bandied about by various young upstarts trying to exert their way into the Hollywood machinery, but the ornateness of the romantic allegories again may only be an exploitation of the microcosm/macrocosm devices found in the later work of such directors as Welles.

I personally scoff at the idea that the films presented were based on the works of the French novelist Delarue (the vivid singularity does remind one of du Breck), even if a certain luxurious air to the interior scenes is vaguely Altman-esque in composition. Some interludes might offend certain sensitivities, though many polled outside a recent viewing in Soho have spoken highly of the heightened predesign filtered through an engaging burlesque of film conventions.

Further, fascinating variations on past tensions do create controlled havoc in various film adaptations, albeit even in the most baroque setting such innocence and dedication may seem merely hypothetical as the film scholar Flaubert once stated. Speaking in theatrical terms, such ideals are highly reminiscent of various uncanny fallacies in the conclusions of many post-postmodern commentators who somehow confuse the abject symbolism of the interior scenes with a neo-archaic plot development long-discarded by most serious aesthetes. Or, as the noted cinematographer Vincent Berliner once said in the course of a heated argument with director Alexander Bishnikov, "So ya think you can do better ya pussy?"

If your sentiments tend to shy away from spatial relationships monitored through pre-Cultural Revolution cinema, you might harbor reservations regarding the definitely anti-Spenglerian understanding found throughout. However, those who have ridiculed the contemplative nature of the universal components of... (to be continued)

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Gawrsh, another week gone, and the way time's been flying around here it sure seems like autumn out there. Wait, is is autumn out there...sheesh, where has all of that summertime weather I've been waiting for gone anyway! Well, enough of alla them gosh crimonies and welcome to this weekend's BLOG TO COMM post. As you can see there's nothing that much (again) to blab about and, given that the era in rock that served us well is forever gone (only to be replaced by a monster that stands 180 against the throbbing genius of the BIG BEAT), it's a miracle that I've been able to scrape up at least this much to write about. But like that chef who was able to whip up a tasty dish of Chicken Marengo with just a few ingredients at hand I think I did "fairly" swell with the few shards of new material that I've had at hand. Maybe not, for somehow I get the idea that if Napoleon would have read this blog I would have been drawn and quartered post haste!

I must admit that I am greeting the arrival of the winter season with a whole lot more anticipation than I have been these past few decades. The thought of being snowed in for a good month with nothing better to do than devote more time to listening to oft-ignored records and pouring through boxes in search of long-forgotten fanzines really does settle well with my ever-impending approachment towards my second childhood (or at least second adolescence) which would suit me just fine. At least when I was a turdler life was a fun adventure and even when I was older and had to endure the terrors of school and social congress those weekends and holidays with nothing but my transistor radio and my comic books to protect me were way more beneficial'n anything else I could conjure up in my mind. I'll tell ya, when I'm old enough to retire I'm gonna do NOTHING but stay home all day and read comics, listen to music, play with my toys, watch old tee-vee shows and hide from the mailman just like I used to do when I was only three and knew better. And somehow, I feel that I would be serving mankind in a more beneficial way doing this than would I volunteer for hospital poop pickup and meals on wheels work like alla them other retirees do.
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So anyhow, here it is for worse or even worser. The listening (and reviewing) situation may brighten up in the future what with a number of hotcha items that are up for sale via FORCED EXPOSURE as well as via ebay (plus I've discovered a whole buncha platters that are posted on youtube that I wouldn't mind some enterprising computer whiz to download for me), but those goodies'll have to wait until I can get a large load of scratch up. And since I've pretty much given up on anything current (which to me translates into just about anything that sounds as if it were recorded after 1981) you can just bet that the kicks will be getting harder to find once I mutate into an even grouchier caga'n the one I am at this very nanosecond. But hunker in the bunker I will, because I get the feeling that someday, somehow, I will get to hear each and every one of those obscure ne'er released groups that I've read about via obscure mentions and strange asides (like, who in heck was that Mexican rock group who sent an audition tape to CBGB in early 1976?) and frankly, I ain't leaving this mortal coil until I do and that's a promise!

Awww g'wan, read the blasted things willya???


Achim Reichel & Machines-ECHO/A.R.IV. 2-CD set (New Amos Records, Germany)

Even though it's been a good two or so decades since I began to seriously listen to the vast array of krautrock with a post-Stoogian mindset meant for the music, its more'n obvious that I'm still feeling myself out (no, not THAT!) when it comes to discovering some of even the more noteworthy acts who were wallowing around in that particular genre back during the Golden Age of import bins. And to be upfront and natural about it, the works of Achim Reichal are definitely among the wads of krautscapading that I haven't been paying much attention to lo these many years. True I  gave the former Rattler's boffo THE GREAT JOURNEY the royal BLOG TO COMM treatment o'er a year ago, but other'n that it wasn't like I was bustin' down the barn door attempting to give any more of Reichel's works a proper ear-ticklin'. Until now that is.

Y'see, sometimes (actually, ALL of the time!) I really do get hard up for a fresh solid straight ahead rock 'n roll spin and this collection has not one but two of Reichel's old works found in one nice li'l package! Yes, this truly is a moderne-day equivalent of those twofa's they used to have where you could snatch up once-outta print platters by your faves at special budget prices custom made to fit your depression-era wage laden pocket book. Only the prices on these things sure ain't as budget as they were inna olden days that's for sure!

ECHO is a quandary in many a way, with lush 'n rather proggy instrumental passages morphing into some rather hot repeato-riff neo-punk manifested in the best krautrockian way one could imagine. The overall results are a give 'n take what with the rather dry experimental sounds turning you off before the flashier drones send you off into pure early-seventies metallic scronk. However, if you've been able to sit through your cyst-er's reams of Moody Blues albums spinnin' on the turntable before you were able to get to it with your Iggy I think you can handle this 'un hands down. And if you're one of those early-seventies survivors who brazenly stood against the tide of timid with your unapologetic stance re. the Velvet Underground and various seventies/eighties permutations you'll undoubtedly find much to enjoy with ECHO. As the old saying goes, you can do worse, and you have!

Don't get the wrench shown on the cover of A.R. IV. confused with that of Can's INNER SPACE because unlike that pitiful later-on edition to the once-snat Can line of albums this one ain't that bad at all. Of course you have to put up with a lotta experimental whackadoody voices and classical music interspliced with the usual kraut-talk but after that's all over there's some more hot krautrocking that sorta reminds me of the likes of Can and Amon Duul II romping through various late-sixties punk motifs. (It may remind you of some English faerie prog landscape a la Yes, but if it does I'm not going to take away your no prize because to an extent I agree with you!)

But after it starts to sink into your mind like a greasy ball o' dago dough in your stomach you'll discover that A.R.IV. can be pretty driving. Driving like an early-seventies Can splurge through the realm of interstellar rock, and although I doubt there'd be anything on this 'un that'd convert the typical "classic rock/AOR" schmuck to the cause of pure unadultered rockism it might suit the typical BTC reader to the infamous "T". Well, at least in small doses so don't go off buying this under the impression that the latest variation on WHITE LIGHT/WHITE HEAT has been finally unearthed. But if you thought the best moments of Can, Amon Duul II and their spiritual brethren were their interstellar forays into free form enveloping jams you'll definitely cling to this like undigested bran to my sphincter.

An overall not bad set of two early-seventies kraut-unto-underground platters that, while perhaps steeped a little too much into the progressive miasma of the day, still can deliver on some high energy jamz worthy of the better German expressionist rock one can imagine. One you might not wanna pass up, but if you do I think I understand.
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The Human Condition-LIVE AT THE COLLEGIATE THEATRE 13th SEPTEMBER 1981/LIVE IN EUROPE NOVEMBER 1981 2 CD-r burn (originally on THC)

I know I'm not supposed to like this on purely aesthetic principles, but I find these two live recordings to be slightly inspirational. And although I'm not supposed to like the members of this band on purely aesthetic principles as well I can't find any fault on the part of the ex PiL people and cohorts who were present on these instrumental live jamz that not only hearken back to the group's earlier roots, but set the stage for a whole slew of interesting eighties romps along the lines of Mark Hanley's excellent Room 101. The use of various riffage copped from everyone from Pere Ubu to Pink Floyd makes for an interesting springboard into free form jamming and I should admit as to just how inspiring this comes off next to some of the cruddo musings that were beginning to infiltrate the entire "vague rubric" (© 1985 Robert Christgau) of new unto gnu wave music, but danged if I'm never EVER gonna listen to this again. I mean, with a shoebox fulla Electric Eels Cee-Dees inna closet would YOU???
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The Fall-C.R.E.E.P. SHOW CD-r burn (taken from bootleg)

Never having been a Fall fanatic like way too many of you were out and about during the HOTCHA UNDERGROUND I HEARD IT BEFORE YOU! bandwagon jump of the eighties, I must admit that I do find Mark Smith and cohorts' antics pleasurable "once in awhile" to be corny about it. The one-chord thump and grind does wonders for a fanabla like me who doesn't mind his music doused with the proper amount of "minimalism" at least until it starts sounding like an art project, and the band delivers that great and beautiful eternal drone like nothing since the days of back when the Stooges were first learning how to handle their instruments and failing miserably at it. I've been told that these Fall live album releases (legit or not) are rather hit and miss, but this one hits it on all quarters and even a few nickels and if you dig it up and download it for your pleasure that's your good luck!
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WALTER WINCHELL BROADCASTS (via the internet I s'pose)

Bill sent me a whole slab o' these Winchell programs but only now (after over a year) have I started to dig into 'em, undoubtedly because there's hardly been anything else to dig into this week. Good stuff they are with the famed crusading commentator's rat-a-tat reporting and hard-edged commentaries that would give even Perry White a headache. Sound quality ain't that hotcha, but the fast pace and down-to-earth drive of these is enough to show you just how much the concept of news broadcasts has changed o'er the years. Face it, next to guys like Winchell all of those people you see on the news today like Brian Williams and Scott Pelly really come off looking like sissies, though I must admit that even next to me they look like sissies as well!
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Various Artists-SOUR DIAMOND TAILFEATHER HEAVER CD-r (a Bill Shute Production)

Nice but not as tippy top as last week's entry. Two Danny and the Juniors demos really don't toggle this guy's switch (still suffering from the dreaded malady of seventies nostalgia overhype) while I'm still nauseated even thinking about Steve Allen even though he's been gone for x-teen years, but the various takes/rewrites of "This Diamond Ring" actually make me wanna forget what a jerk Gary Lewis is supposed to be while the Homer and Jethro take on "Battle of New Orleans" had me smilin' and guffawin' more'n any George Carlin routine you'd dare to conjure. Even the Allman Joys (one of ROLLING STONE's favorite garage bands---no foolin'!) ain't as disgusto to your punk attitude as they normally would be, while the Jerry Landis/Paul Simon produced and recorded tracks that close the disque out evoke more early-sixties proto-singer/songwriter pop fun than they do anything you'd expect from a guy who has to team up with longtime partner/adversary Art Garfunkel because otherwise nobody would go see him perform. A whole lot better'n what you can dig up on Sirius XM I'll tell ya!

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BOOK REVIEW! TUMBLEWEEDS #5 by Tom K. Ryan (Fawcett, 1972)
I still dunno what got into me that day I bought this paperback at the now long-gone Strouss' downtown Youngstown Ohio store! I mean, at the time of this 'un's release I certainly was NOT 
whatcha'd call a fan of the looser post-PEANUTS-era comic strips like BC, THE WIZARD OF ID and ANIMAL CRACKERS. Not by a long shot---my tastes ran towards the firmer, more traditional comics like ARCHIE, NANCY and PRISCILLA'S POP not to mention a good portion of those strips that were seeing their final days around the time the new crop of comic crap was beginning to replace 'em on the funny page. Comics like TUMBLEWEEDS just seemed too modern and snide for my twennysome years behind the times and proud of it sense of comic strip elegance, and frankly the last thing this fifties barbershop kid stuck inna hippydippy world wanted to read was a strip like this 'un!

But bought it I did instead of the usual Marvel, DC and Archie Comics tossout that I was wont to get while probing the Mezzanine at that once-viable store, and let's just say that after enduring the snarky sagas and dryer'n an Arab's anus humor to be found in this book I quickly shoved it to the back of the paperback rack in my own personal newsstand of a bedroom book shelf. While all of the other paperbacks there had become dog-eared and creased due to constant reading TUMBLEWEEDS #5 remained almost as glossy and brand-spanking new as the day it was bought, and despite a few age spots and a slightly dinged corner it holds up a whole lot sweller'n some of the paperbacks you'll find cluttering up the flea market tables of many a retiree out to make a few bux on some gunky ol' weekend.

But as we all know times change, and so do old fanablas like myself whose tastes mutate and glop all over the place to the point where maybe I can enjoy some of the dry gags 'n subtle guffaws that TUMBLEWEEDS was best known for (at least amongst the small batch of fanz who kept this strip going for nigh on twenny-two years).

Not being that much of a fan of western strips other'n the recurring panels in OUT OUR WAY as well as some old CASEY RUGGLES book I chanced upon, I gotta admit that TUMBLEWEEDS creator Tom K. Ryan did a fair job of taking the ol' western theme and updating it for the new era of BC/WIZARD OF ID styled strips. Nothing earth-shattering, but good enough especially when stacked up against the positively staid and unfunny strips one sees these days. The dialogue tends to get quite wordy and sometimes the gags are more groans than guffaws, but I can still appreciate some of the catch-you-off guard humor that pops up on scant occasion. 'n although the artwork ain't as eye-popping suburban slob friendly as the Bob Montana-era ARCHIE or Bushmiller delineated NANCY comics most certainly were, they sure beat the feminized cutesy-pie plop permeating the funny pages of today which I still say is a leading cause as to why newspapers are dying off.

Good enough that even the lameass gags revolving around Tumbleweeds' horse Epic ain't as hopeless as I originally thought they were, while the Poohawk Indians portrayed are high-larious enough that I get the idea that even the most Marxist of First Nations types might get a laugh outta the way they interact and throw some good zingers (verbally as well as visually) at the whiteys. Some of the takes on various western cliches might wear thin, but then again ya gotta admit that when the comics in this collection were drawn (1969) those western satires were still a bit (at the least) fresher'n they were when TUMBLEWEEDS finally packed it up in 1987.

True it ain't a classic in the way I like my comic strips, but at least TUMBLEWEEDS had its own charm, some nice artwork and a strange subtle nature that sorta petered out when the mid-sixties minimalist comics gave way to the comparative snoozers seen today.  'n hey, I would say that I was slightly inspired by these comics even to the point where I just might pick up this nineties collection of selected strips that the local Thrift Shops just can't give away, and hey can you tell me of a better way for me to squander away my fifty cents???

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Yeah, another short 'un this week. Sheesh, despite the best efforts of the likes of Bill Shute, Paul McGarry, P.D. Fadensonnen and Bob Forward to enlighten me with burns of new and not-so items I really can't muster up the same rah-rah energy to crank out a halfway decent post the way I might have even a good two years back. I hope I ain't suffering from the same burnout that wasted many a once-vital writer out there in notice-me land, even if I must say that my best days as a scribe are a good what...fortysome years behind me (I mean, you should have read that short story I did for fifth grade English Composition having to do with a Venusian and a sheep dog with an extremely cold nose!).

But given the week I've been through it's amazing that I have been able to crank out even this much bile. Yeah, a real toughie. A week I would wish on my worst enemy that's how bad it was. Oh well, maybe there will be MORE weeks like the one I've been through to wish on those who have dared defile the name of BLOG TO COMM lo these many years, and somehow I have the sneaking suspicion that there will be!

But until that glorious day arrives, enjoy these precious pearls and get all of the goosebumps you can just thinking about all of the angst, stomach acid and gnash that went into the creation of this particular post. You'll be glad you did!


Roy Orbison-EARLY DEMOS AND SUN OVERDUBS CD-r burn (originally on HMC Records)

Here's an interesting batch of early Roy Orbison numbers that show the genesis of the famed Orbison style that wowed many a transistor radios throughout the early 'n mid-sixties.

The very early tracks where Roy rams through a buncha early Elvis numbers might not exactly get the top notch rating in an old issue of STEREO REVIEW but the energy and party-like ambiance really does lend a certain fun feeling of old fun times long gone. The Sun-era demos may or may not have been done with the String Kings (ain't got no liner notes!), but they sure pack that late-fifties wallop that really put the electricity into funtime teenage living way back when.

Thoroughly enjoyable, and if any of you readers were wondering what Orbison was up to in the days before "Southbound Jericho Parkway" here's your chance (if you can find it that is, and I'm sure a good search engine will help out just fine!).
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Jeremy Gluck-I KNEW BUFFALO BILL CD-r burn (originally on Diesel Motors)

Noted fanzine regular and Barracuda Gluck does pretty snat on this solo outing where he's backed by various Swell Maps, a Birthday Partier and Jeffrey Pierce of Gun Club fame.

To be honest about it I thought about half of this was singer/songwriter snooze, not as bad as James and Joni and the rest of the SoCal sleepers but still a bit too introspective for my personal tastes. However when he starts cooking Gluck does pretty fine himself even if the ghost of eighties post-inspiration tends to seep into the mix at times (really, 1987 was not an inspirational year for ANYTHING and I should know!).

It's probably worth the trouble of finding, at least for all of you longtime Barracudas and DENIM DELINQUENT fans because frankly you could have done much worse and as the old saying goes you probably have.
***
Isis-LIVE SELECTIONS 2001-2005 CD (www.sgn105.com)

This ain't the feminist horn band of the seventies, but a newer act I gagged on about a month or two back re. the current Islamic army traipsing through the Arab world. And believe-you-moi, from what I can tell these guys have little if anything in common with the other Isis recording act other'n they both use(d) guitars and drums---this Isis is what is called a "post metal" band which probably means something to highbrow rock critics and nobody else, and while they sound quite similar to the slew of ______core/metal acts that were cluttering up the mid-to-late eighties they just might appeal to your own sense of sludge.

If you will, the spiritual successors to the whole Slayer/Metallica cum Flipper grind it out, good enough at just the right nanosecond in your stress-laden world even if I'll probably listen to it once ever four or so millennium.
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The Astronauts-RARITIES CD (Bear Family, Germany)

(Speaking of recording acts with the exact same name existing decades apart) this ain't the English anarchist band who released some great platters back in the eighties but the surf one who ended up being RCA's brave if vainglorious attempt to crack into the Beach Boys market during the early-sixties! And although you won't believe it, for a buncha landlocked surf types they almost did as good a job of surf rock as the Trashmen did from an even more landlocked locale.

And it's a nice collection of tracks too starting with the group's debut self-produced single up through their maybe not-so-stellar height during the surf era ending with a bunch of garage band-y Brit Invasion pop 'n blooze numbers that, while rather solid by any suburban slob's standards o' excellence, just didn't cut it against the Gerry and the Pacemakers and Rolling Stones tracks these were obviously influenced by. I mean, even back then kidz were picky about what they would cram in their ears which in many ways is a durn shame.

The surf material whether instrumental or vocal shines as some of the better trackage to make its way outta the I-don't-care-what-you-say-but-it-was-HOPPING early sixties. They're filled with strong guitar lines, rugged melodies and a sturdy performance that really stands tall against some of the squeakier acts of the day. The mid-sixties numbers should put more'n a smile on the face of many a NUGGETSphile even if they will probably give those breastfed from the nipples of Jann Wenner a serious headache, which is a good thing considering just how much rockers like us hadda suffer thanks to the efforts of that horrid rump-wranglin' tastemaker who actually pushed the idea (along with Jon Landau) that James Taylor and his sibs were no doubt about it the first family of rock!

So good that even the numbers with strings sound boffo enough to bring back alla them fond memories of getting beaten up in the boy's room at the local drive in when you were but a mere kid.
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Khun Narin-KHUN NARIN'S ELECTRIC PHIN BAND CD-r burn (originally on Innovative Leisure)

Every so often some ethnically-oriented recording or another comes around to get all of the more phony-intellectual than thou types all excited, and from what I can tell you, given my lofty status as a well-respected somethingorother, this is the latest one. True it ain't no MUSIC OF BULGARIA but this Khun Narin and his Electric Phin Band put out a wild excursion into a world music I can enjoy and the sounds they create just might sate the high energy pangs and desires crumpled up in your psyche like some old smelly skidmarked underwear nestled in the corner of your room. Although hailing from Thailand the Phins have more of an Indian sound and feeling about 'em that'll bring back fond memories of alla them raga rock records you used to spin while pretending to be high, and if you're the kinda BLOG TO COMM reader who still stands by your Seventh Sons and Malachi albums you'll probably fall for this 'un head o'er heels. Made for fantastic lay back 'n read old comics listening this very weekend, and if you have a copy I know it will do the same thing for you!
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THE LEGENDARY EDDIE COCHRAN CD-r burn (originally on United Artists, England)

Do you have the two-LP Eddie Cochran LEGENDARY MASTERS SERIES set like I do? Like I hadda ask, but if you're in the market for more Cochran material to shatter your soothed nerves this 'un just might do the trick.

Dunno if it came out inna U.S. of Whoa but you might be able to snatch up this import of umport if you scour the auction lists close enough. It really would be worth your while to do it unless you're just another lazy computer guy who'll download and burn this with the flick of a wrist.

Alt. takes, sideman work not to mention an interview done shortly before Cochran's own unfortunate demise pop up, and other'n a repeat of the corny yet cool "Fourth Man Theme" there are no dupes with the LEGENDARY MASTERS set unless you wanna count the original version of "Skinny Jim", which you just might!
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Ivy Pete and his Limbomaniacs-LIMBO PARTY CD-r burn (originally on Somerset)

This looks like one of those albums that I'd find while thumbing through Farts Flanagan's parents' record collection stashed in their parlor console when nobody was around, only to chased out of the place by Ma Flanagan when she discovered what a mess I left.

I could make a joke about Bill Shute's brain being in limbo for him sending me this supermarket crankout that was probably snuggled right next to the very same budget MARY POPPINS rec my mother bought us when I was but a budding suburban slob, but I won't. But sheesh, this is nothing but cheapoid limbo crankout music that went right from the budget bins of the sixties to the flea market stacks of the seventies and eighties, and only the boffoest of limbo lovers will like these Island ditties even if they're too chubboid to do the actual bend over backwards like the pretty gal pictured on the cover does.

Hmmm, I must admit that it would have been funny to see Ma Flanagan position her flabby body in the strange contortion that slim miss seems to do with ease! But given her bursitis (and the fact that she's now 95 years old) I won't ask her if she still can.
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Various Artists-BLUE BUMBLE AZTEC GYPSY SANDALS CD-r burn (via Bill Shute)

Another boffo mix 'n match courtesy one of the few human beings on this earth who will even talk to me! Hodgepodge of various six-oh stylings from the likes of United Travel Service's socially conscious suburban teenage psych (two sides!), the Warm Sounds and the Bumble Bees to the outta-nowhere gospel/soul of Margie Hendrix and Syl Johnson. The Mad Hatters' earnest yet hilarious version of "Blowin' In The Wind" done up garage punk style is a must to hear, while the infamous Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs' take on "Dancing in the Streets" might be effete, but is still driving enough to keep you from throwing your copy out the window. Personal fave has to be the Davie Allan/Arrows track but I guess that's just because maybe I'm still stuck in the boffo era of Metro Music catalogs at least in spirit. I do tend to get that way sometimes.

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BOOK REVIEW! FUTURE DAYS---KRAUTROCK AND THE BUILDING OF MODERN GERMANY by David Stubbs (Faber and Faber, 2013)

As the age-old question goes, "do we really need another book on krautrock (or as I like to call it 'German Expressionist Rock')???" If you're anything even remotely like me then you'll know in your heart of hards that the answer is most definitely YES!!! Just like we need more books on the Cleveland underground rock scene circa. 1972-1980 not to mention a few on those British groups from the late-sixties and early-seventies who took their musical cues from the Velvet Underground and Stooges. Hey, we need ALL the books we can on each and every style and genre of rock et roll that used to tingle our hammers and stirrups during that era's height and one more book on the subject is, at least for me, one more reason to stay in every night and cuddle up with such a while some classic Can or Amon Duul I, II or III for that matter careens on the bedside boom box!

As it stands FUTURE DAYS isn't a particularly revealing read---most of the knowledge presented has been chopped away from a variety of previous krautreads not to mention the author's exhaustive collection of ancient British weeklies and ZIGZAGs cluttering up his own boudoir. Maybe I am being pickier'n I am with my nostrils because hey, once all is written and digested I gotta admit that FUTURE DAYS is dang fine enough for me!

If you like your rock kraut-y and still harbor fun memories of careening record shop import bins wishing you could dish out a good twelve smackers for one of the German imports that would often be displayed in conjunction with head supplies (really, as I once saw in a West Covina CA plaza disc emporium!) then this'll surely warm the cockles of your heart, amongst other things.

Slim onna pix but heavy on the facts, FUTURE DAYS at least gives the non-German fan a glimpse into the German music scene and the reasons as to why these bands (which actually were not that popular in Germany even if they were underground faves amongst the British heads and proto-punks) even existed in the first place being cast about due to post-war conditions and a searing sense of self-loathing. Of course all of the biggies from Can, Kraftwerk and the Amon Duuls on down are here, and although you oldtimers are probably gonna be sick to your stomachs reading these stories for the umpteenth time I will admit that author Stubbs does manage to add in a li'l more insight into the German Expressionist saga than has been spewed forth in earlier tomes. The German experience and the bubbling teenbo dissent that helped create the climate for this musical genre is delved into (with the author perhaps discerning more than is actually there!) while more information than has previously been distributed regarding the inner workings of these bands (por ejemplo the Amon Duul commune saga with all of its disturbing inner workings is presented in way more than passing) is also disseminated whether you want to know about the time Chris Karrer was forced to screw a femme Duulite or not. So if you think FUTURE DAYS is nothing but a quickie rehash cash in custom made for blobs like us who'll read just about anything plopped in front of us you are sadly mistaken.

Maybe it ain't as flippant as Julian Cope's infamous  KRAUTROCKSAMPLERschpiel nor as vivid as the various oversized collections that have popped up o'er the years, but FUTURE DAYS wasn't that bad a read even if most of this was remedial rockism reading to resensify my sense of high energy. Now if only someone'll write a concise history of the Cleveland seventies underground rock scene and early Velvets/Stooges inroads into late-sixties English rock, but I ain't holding your breath.

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Another slimmo post this week. Sheesh, the inspiration (in the form of new 'n hotcha disques to spin) just ain't comin' as fast as I'd like 'em to come, an' if I don't dig into the ol' pile to see what else I can blab on 'n beef about in order to plump this 'un up I'm sure gonna be in one big mess o' trouble! But blab on I will if only to pudge this 'un out to at least a respectably decent length because hey, I think you guys deserve something to read after a hard day working at yer job as testers at the dildo factory.
Anyway I hope you readers in the US of Whoa are looking forward to Fangsgiving this Thursday. Remember to keep the BLOG TO COMM tradition up for the holidays once again this year...don't shave or bathe for at least three days, wear your shabby clothes and try to get to the local rescue mission before the food's all gone. And remember to sneak out when they want you all to sing along with the corny hymns.
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Can't let the 51st anniversary of the big JFK ka-boom go unnoticed the weekend, so for those of you who missed last year's Golden Anniversary (one of the most-hit posts I've dared unleash on the pubelick) just click here and marvel o'er the fact that I didn't receive any internet award for this masterpiece. Even this late inna game I'm chortling over Don Fellman's recollections of that fateful for him day (no RETURN OF THE FLY that night!) which sure beats all hollow those reminiscences that ROLLING STONE printed back during the '73 tenth anniversary baby boom "we're the best and brightest generation ever!" slobberfest they put in their fishwrap, and somehow I get the feeling that you readers would probably as well!
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In the IF YOU THOUGHT LIFE WAS STRANGE ENOUGH AWLREADY department...remember that issue of BACK DOOR MAN where Phast Phreddie was interviewing Adny Shernoff of the Dictators and asked him is the Dics'd ever play the Vatican? The question seemed funny har-har at the time but it turns out to have been more'n just "prophetic" in a way since I have just found out that yes...none other than PATTI SMITH is going to appear at the Vatican Christmas Concert next month!!! I couldn't believe it even if the gal did get to chat with the recent pope during some meet 'n greet but I guess that the ever-famed and aged punk poetess is going to be performing for ol' Francis in the not-so-distant future! I get the feeling that she might be dishing out a neatly censored set w/o any of the Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine and Wilhelm Reich Peter diddling shockarama that put her on the map, but no matter how bowdlerized the show might get all I gotta say is...I wonder who's gonna be the opening act, Kongress??? Maybe Suicide can do a Punk Music Mass for the gig 'n wouldn't THAT be somethin' t' fill up the baskets???
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Anyhoo here're some revooz of some items I was able to scrape together and stick onna ol' bedside boom box this week. Thanks to P.D. Fadensonnen for the late entry (Dixie Dregs'THE GREAT SPECTACULAR as well as some more that'll get the nod next weekend) and thanks to Paul McGarry for the Chrome, Jerry Jerry, Daddy Long Legs and Love spinners. And while I'm at it, thanks to Bill Shute for the spiffy sampler that closes out the post...if it weren't for you guys the only thing that would be reviewed this week would be the Jean-Francois Pauvros discs that I bought (thanks to ME!).


Chrome-FEEL IT LIKE A SCIENTIST CD-r burn (originally on King of Spades)

It's platters like this that give me hope that the feral past can have some meaning here in the tepid present. Chrome rock on just as hard and as electronically infused here as they did back when you used to see ads for their albums cluttering up the fanzines of the late-seventies, crashing up and about while all of those other seventies punk wonders have floundered about as if too much Donovan had gotten into their systems. A pretty good approximation of the ALIEN SOUNDTRACKS/HALF MACHINE LIP MOVES Chrome era, and it's been recorded and released in an era (mainly, TODAY!) that has been more conduit to the Chrome mindset than the late-seventies (a wonderful time if you must know!) has been. If only more interstellar cyborgs out there would only listen...
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Jerry Jerry-THE SOUND OF THE JERRY CD-r burn (originally on Aquarius)

Singer/songwriter-y guy here who gets into the usual under-the-mainstream musical snark yet still comes off pretty hot in some respects. And that's even though this form for all intent purposes has been long gone from the "music" scene for at least fifteen or so years. A bit altie/folk coming off like a snarling Jonathan Richman after a bad day at the shopping center. Nothing that I'd want to spin on a daily basis but it does have a certain style to it. Quite clever at times even...just skip over the song where Jerry Jerry sings about his garden hose and you'll probably take a liking to it even with alla the swearing.
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Dixie Dregs-THE GREAT SPECTACULAR CD-r (originally on Dregs Records)

I must admit that I've been tingling my toes in what used to be (and still may be) called "Southern Rock", though other than Black Oak Arkansas, the Hampton Grease Band and Hydra I really haven't found one of these groups that fits it totally with my BLOG TO COMM sense of high energy hijinx. The Dixie Dregs just might snuggle up with the aforementioned one of these days, but their slick approach (even on this pre-major label outing) just doesn't satiate the way I was hoping a hotcha deep South bluegrass jazz rock group woulda. Still interesting enough for a quick spin, though frankly I wish these guy were listening to a whole lot more Miles Davis and a whole lot less Return to Forever. (For real Dixie thrills get a hold of former bassist Andy West's RAMA 1 Cee-Dee and be prepared to change your bigoted opinions regarding him and his fellow musicians for all time!)
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Daddy Long Legs-BLOOD FROM A STONE CD-r burn (originally on Norton)

Wow is this 'un exciting as all get out! The Long Legs "channel" all of the best moments of the original fifties-sixties punk thrust through various seventies and eighties (even nineties and oh-ohs!) influences giving out with a sound that reminds me of the Raunch Hands aping early Black Oak Arkansas after spinning a variety of Flamin' Groovies,  Dr. Feelgood and Count Bishops platters that were found in Charles Shaar Murray's backpack which got lost in the NME listening room sometime in '78. If you wanna get all hopped up over the BIG BEAT the same way you did back when you were young 'n impressionable this 'un just might restore your faith in rock 'n roll as a healing force. And I don't mean any of that Haight Ashbury mystical mumbo jumbo either!
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Jean-Francois Pauvros-MUSIQUES POR ANNE DREYFUS CD (Spalax France)

Ex-Catalogue man Pauvros makes music for the choreography of an Anne Dreyfus, a lady whose works I assume would never ever have been attempted by the Class of '66 even though that gal with the ironed hair who wanted to be a Freedom Rider so badly mighta attempted it. It varies from soft if unnerving violin strains to clunks and clangs as well as even some rather rocking passages (thanks to the presence of Modern Lover/Elliot Murphy bassist Ernie Brooks), and it all sounds just as alien and as indecipherable as all of those other French neo-punkian avant free jazz RIO things that have been coming outta France for quite some time. Nothing that special for the standard reader of this blog, but it just might be of interest if you're experiencing one of those really ennui-filled introspective moments like I tend to do on overcast snowed-in days.
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Love-BLACK BEAUTY CD-r burn (originally on High Moon)

Hey, McGarry actually sent me a Cee-Dee-Are that I had my eyes on for quite some time! Yes it's the legendary long-unreleased Love album finally getting its just dues, and even if I never was whatcha'd call a humongous fan of Arthur Lee and company (more like a passing fancy fan) I gotta mention that I did enjoy this 'un quite a whole lot! Kinda funky in a mid-seventies sorta way, but its still a power-packed offering that manages to retain some of the excitement of the Electra-era band if not the oft-maligned version that popped up on Blue Thumb/Harvest. And really, you haven't heard anything until you lend your ears to Arthur Lee singing the old Rooftop Singers hit "Walk Right In"! Bonus tracks don't let you down either (the interview was quite illuminating!) but don't get yer hopes up over the inclusion of a track called "LA Blues"...this 'un's a latterday track where Lee is joined by an act called Ventilator and it ain't even the Stooges song! Awww c'mon, don't let that get to you---go buy the durned thing!
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Various Artists-MONKEY DOGS DOIN' THE FLAME CD-r burn (directed by Bill Shute)

A good hour's worth of downloads courtesy the Inner Mystique Man himself. The Maymie and Robert track mixed late-fifties pop and Chipmunks voices to a good effect, and while the Buchanan/Goodman cut-ins ain't as funny as they were when I was ten they still do reverberate spasms of pre-teen har hars as well as any good ARCHIE comic should. It's interesting the way Bill follows the gospel rouser "One More River" with "Marijuana Polka" (I wonder if he's trying to tell us something), while the theme from SANFORD AND SON as well as the Raiders'"ss 396" and Clark Chewing Gum tracks do recall more fun frolics of the past than I thought they would. And it all closes out with Ray Sharpe doing a great "Gloria" swipe that'll curdle your curry, and with horns too! (Shouldn't forget that the obv. scuffed up Christmas recordings that Bill slapped on do signal that the Holiday Season is almost upon us, which means that YOU Bill are going to get an ADDED if not addled bonus this year---mainly two lumps of coal instead of one!)
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Might see you Wednesday though probably Thursday...if I can pry myself away from the table long enough to crank something out that is!

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BOOK REVIEW! THE COMPLETE DICK TRACY VOLUME 17 by Chester Gould (IDW 2014)

The TRACY saga continues on and with a potent splat, what with the culmination of the Flattop Jr. episode as well as the "Spec" saga (she's the tyke who was framed for murdering her stepdad), the Kitten Sisters and the Clipso Brothers, a pair of conniving twins who look remarkably like Jackie Gleason. Pretty heavy stuff here esp. with the Flattop saga where the cad meets up with a cute boho gal called Skinny who enters ones of his paintings at an outdoor exhibition and wins first prize which, not so surprisingly enough inna world o'TRACY, directly leads to the gal's death by her getting heaved off the top of an apartment building by none other'n an angrier'n hell Flattop himself.

At first I was rather disheartened that Skinny met such a spattering end---after all her character was cute 'n sexy as well as sassy enough to like without anyone wanting to bash her face in---but thankfully she stays in the continuity as a ghost who clings to Flattop Jr. whether it be ethereally or metaphorically (you decide). But whateve,r the outcome to all this is rather mind-boggling for a strip that never did mind stretching some of the comic boundaries that were to be found in the more "serious" endeavors on the funny page, and I for one believe that this particular storyline was one of the better TRACY sagas to appear in print and that's even stacked up against the ones seen during the forties which alla them comic snobs say was the bestest days for TRACY no doubt about it!

The rest ain't anything to sneeze at either, what with Spec's mom's new boyfriend "Ivy " losing his left forearm to a shark after mom pushes him off a cliff into the drink before he can do it to her, not to mention the whole Kitten Sisters saga where one of 'em gets revenge on an ex-member of the gang by dressing up like a snowman at a ski contest and shooting her through the heart with an arrow as she flies mid-air! The Clipso Brothers episode features the appearance of B.O. Plenty's long-lost father Morin and his teenaged barefoot bride (one of the Clipsos gets his right index finger shot off during a shootout giving us a good two amputations this volume!) while the Crystal saga's got the absconding with a bit pile o' loot husband frozen solid in the family walk-in freezer and some good close calls when the brat gal sneaks in to get some ice cream on a stick! Yes, there's no shortage of thrills this time around, and if you're somewhat bored, nonplussed or shocked at all of the action and adventure to be found may I call you Fredric Wertham?

One caveat, I must admit that Max Allen Collins' forwards are becoming a tad baby boomer moralistic preachy, that is mainly preaching against what Collins believes are the foibles and stuck-upness of Chester Gould and his anti-delinquency ideas that were starting to pop up in TRACY on scant occasion. Yeah I can see Collins being snarky about Tracy and his new crew cut (which was just as bad a move as the time Tracy was given long hair and a mustache inna early seventies!) and who could deny that Gould's pushing the (nonexistent) trend towards teens dressing up so's not to look thuggish was nothing but wishful thunk, but when its being delivered to you in a tone that could only come from a sainted member of the brave sixties generation who sacrificed so much for YOUR right to throw frisbees and felch in an non-obtrusive, peaceful world you can just BET that the b.s. meter's gonna be clicking more'n a buncha mad castanets driven by a pack of PMS-induced senoritas on the hunt for the bullfighter of their ill-tempered ire!

Of course Collins has to redeem his former mentor somewhat by saying that Gould takes a more "liberal" position in the story sidebar where Flattop's ex-pal Joe Period's mother pleads for forgiveness for ignoring her now-murderer son then throws herself into the path of a truck when he shoos her away...gee, I didn't know that the concept of bad parents making bad kiddies was exactly in the realm of the enlightened ones (after all, Taki himself got into hot wa-wa for saying that the thugs of England was descendants of other thugs who raised 'em that way and last time I heard Taki wasn't exactly Senator Heartbleed!) but hey, I learn somethin' new every day. Only wish the new thing I learned today was something about an obscure hard early-seventies post-Velvets monolith of a band, but maybe that'll be tomorrow.

Whatever you do, skip the sob saga (or take it as what it is...uberlib feelygood masturbation) and get to the meat 'n potatoes. But no matter what you like me'll be glad you're working your way through TRACY a whole lot more'n FOR BETTER OR WORSE, that's for sure!

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Welcome to the further deteriorating adventures of BLOG TO COMM. And deteriorate is the word for it---I've been reading over the past few months of posts and I must admit that my writing, enthusiasm and general ability to congeal have certainly taken a downslide, and considering that my writing never was up to that tippy top rock gonz/fanzine style that I most certainly try to ape that's really saying something. Of course I have my excuses from real life woes to the lack of energy on the part of myself not to mention the lack of the kind of music I most crave, but I'm sure the last thing you want to hear are a buncha lame excuses from me. In all its a shame, because what WE (non apologetic longtime high energy music mavens) need in the here and now is more of that post-Bangs/Meltzer/Saunders/Kent/Tosches/Farren/Kaye... musical screeding (and the kind of music they used to screed over), and it's more'n obvious that you ain't getting it HERE!



Various Artists-HIGH ENERGY ROCK FOR LOW ENERGY TIMES CD-r

P. D. sent this 'un my way, perhaps because he could tell that I need quite a bit of resensifying after some of the dog tired posts I've been putting in as of late (see opening paragraph). Well, if this in fact is so then all I gotta say is Mr. Fadensonnen really produced one kicker of a platter here that helps me to remember just why I used to pick pennies up off the sidewalk in the first place. The music that's to be heard here is probably familiar to most of you reg'lar readers, but even if it is I gotta admit that it's sure great hearing it all in one blob 'stead of spread across dozens of platters just like it's grand to listen to those "Roots of Punk" type collections that have been springing up these past ten or so years and at collector's prices as well.

The music to be heard here is what I would call heavy metal in the old 1972 CREEM style, which in some ways is the same punk rock that CREEM was blabbin' about around the same time. Hard rockers from the likes of the MC5 (and spinoff Ascension), Crushed Butler, High Rise, DMZ, Coloured Balls and Sir Lord Baltimore appear, and even though we've all heard these tracks before all I gotta say is SO WHAT!  Even the new to me stuff from Birds of Maya and Highway Robbery sounds enticing enough to the point where I might do some internet diddlin' as soon as I get this review typed, but given my inbred laziness don't count on it. Too bad Fadensonnen isn't one of those big-time underground legends that alla us geeks look up to with reverent eyeballs affixed (at least not yet) or else we'd be buying this one complete with detained liner notes and snazzy pix on ebay for a good twenny bucks!
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DMZ-LIVE AT THE RAT CD (Bomp!)

The presence of DMZ on the above disque (as well as me coming across an old ad for a '76 performance where they were billed as "Boston's Newest Heavy Metal Band") got me into digging this old hoary chestnut (to be quaint about it) outta the collection and into my ears. And really, DMZ were heavy metal in the best CREEM/DENIM DELINQUENT/BACK DOOR MAN sense, hard-hitting high energy rock with an overdriven mania conduit for the best decadent aspects of teenbo living extant, at least until the glitzy fru fru and shrunken head aspects got into the mix sometime in the mid-seventies.

Taken from a live '76 show as well as a '83 reunion gig, I gotta say that the band is pumping on all cylinders (see above quaintness comment) even if I have heard tapes that were more raw 'n alive before (a '77 NYC show wallowing around somewhere in my closet's the proverbial screecher). Still I ain't gonna complain what with the hot mix of mid-sixties Northwest rock, late-sixties Detroit and general teenage Ameriga that somehow got lost in the shuffle of Classic FM and disco doldrums. But it was there, and a whole lot more'n what most industry moguls woulda dared admit way back in those bubbling under bared wire intensity days.

Good enough that I'm gonna hafta do some more collection surfing for not only the Bomp! singles but DMZ's infamous Flo and Eddie-produced Sire album that nobody ever seemed to like. Well it sure beats all of those other "hip" pastimes that permeate the behavioral cycles of way too many wonks out there in amerindie musicland, like publicly showing your undying appreciation for your favorite uberlib cause or combing the Matador Records self-hype blog, that's for sure!
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Dead Moon-DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH CD (Dog Meat, Australia)

A pluck out from the collection that I thought I'd pay some attention to given the large span of time I've ignored the thing. Anyhow, this 'un's a special release cooked up especially for the group's mid-nineties Australian tour complete with seven tracks taken from each of Dead Moon's albums up until then, and for a nice representation/introduction to the band I gotta say that this 'un does showcase this trio's neo-metallic approach rather swell. Kinda down home drag-out garage blooze HM that sounds down and dirty the way rock 'n roll hadn't since the hippies got in charge of things. It's also good for a cheapo like myself who never did get around to hearing these platters in their original forms, though as far as inspiring me to trek down all of the originals well...maybe when the inheritance from that Great Uncle I never knew rolls in...
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Kitty Brazelton's Dadadah-LOVE NOT LOVE LUST NOT LUST CD (Buzz, Netherlands)

It may not be Musica Orbis, but Kitty Brazelton's nineties aggregation is just as mix 'n match of a variety of seventies pop forms with avant garde inclinations and some top tappers tossed in that'll make you wonder why she hadda get a job in a topless bar to make ends meet. Might be a bit professional for your own tastes, but I find it about as true to the whole rock as the real experimental music thing as all of those late-seventies no wavers who used to play in art galleries. Get the Musica Orbis album (widely available via ebay) first then let Dadadah fill in all of the holes in your musical consciousness.
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The Plastic People of the Universe-VOZRAEJ JAK SLIVA CD (Globus, Czech Republic)

Would you believe that I actually forgot that I owned this second volume in the Plastic People series of chronological recordings that Globus released way back in the late nineties? So in actuality this was like a brand-spanking new listening experience for me and I'm sure glad that I played the thing today rather'n forty years from now when the only listening I'll be doing is to a buncha angels strumming on harps. Either that or the earthworms wigglin' their way through my cranium.

Very Eastern Bloc...maybe even krautrock-esque what with the over-the-head Zappa influence and the surprising free jazz sax intermingling with the death dirge violin. What really makes it tick (and separates it from similar Zappa-cum-prepunk units like Tin Huey) is the hopelessness that envelops the sound. Ya gotta suffer if ya wanna make good music (or at least some introspective rock critic I hate said that), and given that the countries that were under Soviet control weren't exactly fun places to picnic really added a tension and sorrow that you just didn't hear around here even from the really repressed types (mainly us suburban slobs)! No wonder the Czech underground took to the freak element of Zappa, Beefheart and the Fugs like no one else...in some strange way these acts gave hope to a nationfulla lost teens who certainly weren't satisfied with the government-approved teen pablum and craved a whole lot more in their international youth language of a music!

Live and elsewhere material recorded during the group's EGON BONDY period. Sound quality is good enough for tapes that you thought would have been destroyed by the secret police, liner notes are in Czech so I can't read them, and one final thing---anybody who hates the Plastic People's got his head either buried way deep inside his ass or well into his collection of eighties post-funtime rock platters smug in his "so above it all" complacency, and you all know who I'm talkin' about dont'cha!
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Gang of Four-A GIFT CD (V2)

I know what you're thinking....some gift! But hey, considering that I ain't heard Gang of Four in over thirty years and forgot what they sounded like this promo Cee-Dee I found inna collection sure came in handy. And actually, these guys (at least on this platter---can't judge about their other post-ENTERTAINMENT output) weren't "that" bad. They weren't that good if you want to stretch a point but I could enjoy the first elpee's "Damaged Goods" about as much as I can some MESSTHETICS contemporary, although the "mixed" material wasn't as attention grabbing as it would have been had this still been 1980 and my underground tastes were still fluttering around a bit. As I would have thought, it sounds like something that might have been boffo at one time in my life but a few years later all I hadda say was...wha???
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Noah Howard-LIVE AT THE VILLAGE VANGUARD CD-r burn (originally on Freedom, England)

As with BLACK ARK Arista decided to pass on this 'un when they were getting the Freedom catalog out inna mid-seventies. Which is a durn shame since this 'un's yet another free jazz killer that needed to have gotten out into the used record bins of the late-seventies just like all those other Arista/Freedom albums I once picked up for a song. Fantab backing (Frank Lowe and Rashied Ali amongst 'em) and exemplary performance from Howard who proves that he was one of the few heirs to the Albert Ayler sphere of interstellar insanity around. And speaking of Ayler, you never heard a tribute to his overall being as you did on "Dedication" which posts most of the other Ayler homages I've heard to shame! (By the way, if you're worried about the presence of Earl Freeman's fuzz bass after reading a few on-line reviews don't worry...it doesn't get in the way at all. In fact, I gotta 'fess up to the fact that I can't even hear it so quit your fretting!).
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Various Artists-WALK LIKE THE STARRY-EYED WOLFMAN CD-r burn (so what if it's redundant...nearly everything on this blog is!) (courtesy Bill Shute)

This selection actually perked mine ears up to the point where I felt like giving Bill Shute a ring-a-ding to tell him just how much his Cee-Dee worked wonders with my life. Of course considering how cheap I am I decided not to, but if I did call him it would have been thing right thing to do. Highlights (for me, maybe not for Bill or for you for that matter) include the 13th Floor Elevators single cut of "Slip Inside This House", the obscure Sensation doing some rather decent mid/late-seventies pop that woulda beat the usual schmoozer music of the day all hollow, the strange duet between a chap named Jackie Edwards and Millie Small of "My Boy Lollipop" fame and Charles Gayle singeing your free jazz nervefrazzles for a good eight or so minutes. Nervous Norvous is always good for a spin while the Paul Horn jazzy hipster track made me wanna sneak into a 1969-vintage adults only film for some not-so strange reason. As for the inclusion of Divine screeching "Walk Like a Man" well Bill...I never knew...

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DVD REVIEW...SPACE PATROL 3-disc set (Barkview)

Don Fellman was tellin' me over 'n over about this faux-Supermarionation series for years on end, and although his mem'ry about it was what we shall call "fuzzy" what he did remember was down to earth amazing for a man of his advanced age! Here he hadn't seen the series for a good fiftysome years, and the guy was doing these impressions of the show's Martian sidekick Husky's "I'm hungry" routine with an unbelievable resemblance to the rill thing! However, for some strange reason Don thought that the show was filmed in Germany---in his Howdy Doody voice Don once mimicked the by-then unemployed marionette saying "I'd get a job on PLANET PATROL (the show's USA title since there already was a show called SPACE PATROL o'er here even if it had been off the air a good seven years) only I don't know what country that's made in!" and you can just betcha that I was rolling on the floor laughing even harder'n the time my cousin's dog started getting amorous on her leg and cous was yelling at me saying how terrible I was for showing my true feelings over this rather embarrassing situation!

Dunno which came first, the FIREBALL XL-5 chicken or the SPACE PATROL egg, but if you really went for the former with all of your suburban ranch house Saturday Morning slob inclinations firmly intact you'll most certainly go for the latter. From the imitation "Space City" to the flying motor scooters SPACE PATROL has FIREBALL written all over it and you won't mind one bit. If its early sixties fun and jamz you want this'll help you just as much as having your next door neighbor come over and break all your tootsietoys not to mention the resultant scratch 'n bite out you two'll be engaged in as a result.

You can also tell where the producers took a lotta shortcuts to keep costs down (like the animated space ship scenes), but who cares if the end result's a boffoid program that really sates that repressed ten-year-old in you who sure wished you could have watched top notch television like this when you were a kid, only by that time everything hadda be peace and love with bell bottoms to match!

Even the characters themselves seem to have come straight from the fevered imagination of Gerry Anderson from the hard-nosed by-the-books space commander who kinda looks like Mose Allison as opposed to Barry Goldwater to the sexy Venusian secretary who, along with fellow Venusian Slim, acts as the show's proto-Spock faction spewing forth reams of rational thought and the usual five dollar words. Fellow Patrolman Husky, the Martian Don imitated so well, is more comic relief akin to Ito on ULTRAMAN...a credit to the force yet you kinda wonder which well-connected uncle got this comparative dim bulb his job! And as for the show's star Larry Dart well...I gotta say that he does fill the Steve Zodiac role well enough but sheesh, why did they give him that long hair and beard in 1962 anyway??? I know this show was supposed to be about the future, but we're talking 2100 not 1969! He looks more like a Shakespearean actor or even Papa John Phillips than a rough 'n tumble spaceman but hey, given some of the pussies that pose for youth role models these days he's a whole lot better'n what was to come! Maybe they were planning on doing a "Supermarionation"ROBIN HOOD series and got stuck with this puppet before revamping the entire concept.

There are more marionettes to contend with from this Irish scientist who seems genial enough yet flies into a rage when his cute daughter calls him "Pops" to a Martian parrot who ain't as irritating as that Zuni on FIREBALL but you still wanna cement his beak anyway, and of course it all works out fine even if you know that the director is straining to save precious pounds by having characters talk about occurrences rather than actually show them. But that's only part of the charm behind these early-sixties crank outs and hey, what do four-year-olds plopped in front of the set with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch half-splattered on the carpet care about these things anyway?

One thing I gotta admit's got SPACE PATROL beating out the Andersons is the fact that 1) these shows actually have fight scenes where the puppets sock each other out via quick edit cuts and 2) the puppeteers actually can get their marionettes to WALK in a halfway believable way unlike the competition. Yeah, I even remember back when I was a mere turdler imitating the way the supermarionettes on SUPERCAR and FIREBALL walked by bobbing up and down, but somehow SPACE PATROL's characters actually move the legs and bend the knees and ankles when traipsing from one part of the planet sphere to the next! Things like these really do make up for the other budget consciousness shortcuts seen here, but then again even """""I""""" plopped in front of the set with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch half-splattered on the carpet could've care one whit and I get the feeling maybe you would have felt the same way too.

And one final note...the theme/incidental music is truly (to be nice 'n cornballus about it) "out of this world"! Sure the Anderson programs had that boffo Barry Gray jazzy music blaring all over the soundtrack but in comparison SPACE PATROL is total avant garde electronic that kinda sounds more fit for yet another PBS showing of METROPOLIS! Nothing but seemingly random Varese-influenced bloops and bleeps along with simple clavioline tones whenever the space sphere is taking our heroes to some distant planet. The mere soundtrack alone would make a boffo album and not only that, but it makes me want to hear some of the early avant garde compositions from a whole lotta schnooks who never did get the same notoriety as John Cage or Stockhausen, perhaps because they were doing their bleeping in Sioux City or Melbourne rather'n some music capitol of the world! And if those sounds were to be the "music of the future" then why does the gunk we hear here in the early 21st century just sound like Patti Page filtered through Captain and Tennille? Goes to show you just how advanced these folks were...I mean, when I was a kid I thought we woulda all been driving Supercars by 1978 at the latest!

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Hey, guess what today is! The seventy-third anniversary of the (so they say) sneak attack on Pearl Harbor but that's not ALL! It's also the fiftieth anniversary of the first time I can recall my dad telling me it was the anniversary of that infamous day in history (which brought a big smile to Winston Churchill's mug) thus beginning a multi-year tradition here at the ranch complete with the usual "it all seems like just yesterday" comment tossed in for good measure. Of course in later years it wasn't like he was bringing it up that much, probably because real life was more apocalyptic than what transpired lo those many years ago. I can still vividly recall those Pearl Harbor anniversaries of yore and in fact today's in very similar to the ones I used to encounter, only I'm much older and fatter and balder and in fact there ain't nearly as much good stuff onna tee-vee now as there was then.
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Ann Hoohah*, here's this week's miscellany of mostly old fanablas I found in the collection this week, not to mention a couple of Bill Shute drop offs because he knows what a shallow life I must truly lead. Maybe things will perk up in the near future when I can get some scratch together but I doubt it. Right now I'm pretty much on a self-imposed austerity kick brought about by a general lack of savings as well as lack of anything I'd really like to plunge into musicwise. Unless I come across some rare recordings by the Yarbles (the mid-seventies Boston group) or Iggy sliding his Hawaiian guitar at that John Sinclair Halloween Party way back '67 way.


DMZ-WHEN I GET OFF---THE CLASSIC ORIGINALS CD (Voxx)

Part dos of my ongoing DMZ revisits, this being the Cee-Dee that not only contains the whole of the RELICS album but some interesting radio-only and studio outtake tracks that really do add to the teenage rambunction of it all. Gotta admit that I really like the freshness DMZ exude here---for me too many of those eighties garage band revivalist types lacked a certain set of something or others that dangle between your legs, but DMZ really knew how to take the hard rock of the sixties and play it like the mid-seventies hard rockers they were, making all of those connections between Sky Saxon and Iggy Pop that fanzine writers were blabbing about for years on end all the more plausible. Highlights include not only the boffo originals but the true-to-life yet not carbon copy covers, the theme to the Oedipus Show sung by Mickey Clean of the Mezz, and a high-larious attack on the English punk rock scene done to the tune of "I Wanna Be Your Dog" proving that Monoman is not only a true patriot but a true Irishman who remembers alla that horrible stuff that the limeys did to his mother country for years on end.
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Bob Bailey as YOURS TRULY JOHNNY DOLLAR CD-r

More old time radio, only these shows clearly date from the very very late-fifties which means that they were the lasty-last-last of the original radio dramas that had been running for quite some time not counting various brief attempts that continue on until today. JOHNNY DOLLAR was a good 'un too starring Bob Bailey as an insurance investigator who never seems to get those easy open 'n shut cases...naw, every week the guy was comin' up against these big deal matters having to do with (as on this Cee-Dee-Are) a phony mattress distribution set up and a Wild West celebration with a jealous boyfriend and a gal who ends up with a bashed in head! Sheesh, why can't the guy get something easy to investigate like a torched mob nightclub or a widow living off the policies of six dead hubbies, and she's only twenny-five!

But if you like old tee-vee like I do and love those ideas of what is cool and masculine and energetic (or at least were before the geldings took charge) you'll dig these episodes to the max. If you want to listen with a maximum effect you should try hearing these in a 1959 Studebaker Lark while dressed in the same work suit you wore to the office during a dark night while waiting for your daughter to finish her piano lessons at the local music store. A nice rain'd help as well along with an ashtray fulla butts to add to that old familiar aroma you just don't get anymore. Works every time!
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Vito Acconci-WATERWAY FOUR SALIVA STUDIES CD (Squint)

Here's the "official" explanation of it all"
Acconci explodes the notion of an artist’s creation, his creative act being the build-up and discharge of saliva, an activity more properly belonging to the realm of necessary and autonomic bodily functions than art. Positioning himself as a hyper self-conscious artistic subject, Acconci fuses the terrains of body art and process art, formulating the body as process, and art as a natural function of the body. This title was in the original Castelli-Sonnabend video art collection.
And if that don't sound like a load of malarkey I don't know what does! But anyway considering that I haven't heard this 'un since I reviewed it in one of the later issues of that monstrosity I used to put out. it was nice giving this another spin after all these years. Along with Chris Burden and maybe even John Morton, Vito Acconci was one of those seventies "performance artists" who really defined the genre with interesting and even entertaining works that were way more imaginative than the socio-political dross that came out inna eighties after a lotta precocious pooters were scared silly over the idea of Ronald Reagan to the point where they were splattering AIDS-infested blood over each other in order to soothe their shattered nerves. Or prove some maybe not-so-viable point. Or something like that.

Dunno exactly what WATERWAYS entails en toto, but it does sound like Acconci had recorded his very own tastebuds drooling away at the thought of a nice juicy steak complete with greatly magnified snorts and sniffles added to give it that realistic feel. You can just hear the slobber gushing from those little pores and if you don't start getting your own mouth a waterin' after listening to this then you really must have a will of iron. Well, it does make for a better time'n watching some man-hating dykazoid cramming yams up her twat, and for all of you late-eighties self-righteous NEA chest beaters out there I hope you are offended!
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John Cage-ATLAS ECLIPTICALIS CD (Hat Art, Switzerland)

Cage's '61-'62 composition realized by flautist Eberhard Blum multi-tracking three different versions of his instrument with all of the appropriate gaps of silence adding just as much of a pounce to this as the actual sound parts do. Bound to get the less-enthused amongst us muttering about where art is headed, but the concept is clear enough to me at least as far as these esoteric zen-influenced chance operations go. Grab a bag of stale doritos, don a beret, stick your cigarette in a fancy holder and pretend you're in some New York loft ca. 1962 while this 'un spins and who knows, you might even bump into Marian Zazeela somwhere down the line!
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Various Artists-SELLIN' DAT STUFF CD (Ratcage)

For me the music on this particular release is one of the many representations of the dark dying gasps of the boffo 1964-1981 rock et roll generation that managed to hang on this bloody long down the line after most would have believed it dead 'n buried. I'm not talkin''bout that hippoid generation that gave us all of those delightful ideas like AOR (later to be tagged as "classic rock") or mudfests either...naw, I'm blabbing about the hard-edged sounds birthed from the Brit Invasion and nurtured through high energy Detroit Rock, early-punk screedings and metallic konk outs. A sound that pretty much had died out around the time Max's Kansas City closed up shop and Lester Bangs deep sixed in his apartment and the music just didn't have the same bared-wire intensity it had if only a few years back. Or so we thought, and with good reason I might add.

Basically a mishmosh of various Ratcage acts that were plopping around a good decade or so back, this Cee-Dee proves that maybe the spirit of decadent under-the-counterculture rock didn't croak in the early-eighties like ROLLING STONE had boasted at one time. Lotsa hot faves show up here from Day-z Daze (SEE HEAR's Ted Gottfried's ukelele band) to Joy Ryder without Avis Davis and Florida's Psycho Daisies as well as some of the bubbling unders on the En Why scene who never did make it humongous, and they really do bring back those goodtime memories of when you knew you were living through a vibrant age in rock 'n roll and the music that was being cranked out was happening now 'n not then, and everybody thought you were a turd for liking it but then again, it's thirtysome years later and you have your MX-80 and Von Lmo to keep you occupied and all they have are their lush Emerson Lake and Palmer reissues digitally remastered!

Personal faves include the pair of Ruby and the Rednecks tracks that remind me of just what a classic All-Amerigan rock 'n roll spinner her own album (due to re-eval in these pages) remains as well as Jayne County and her new Back Street Boys doing an extended version of the old fave "Max's Kansas City" which really does stir up the ol' rambunctious feelings that I used to get hearing songs like this. If you're still stuck with your rock 'n roll head in the ROCK SCENE era this is one to cuddle up to in your fart-encrusted bedroom while staring solemnly at your Aerosmith poster.
***
Various Artists-LOBSTER GIRLS GOSSIP CD-r (Bill Shute)

Picked this 'un outta the pile because of the Buddy Hackett track featured onna cover, but personally I thought that one was about as funny as all of the woofs and meows my dad'd make whenever I'd eat Chinese food. But the rest really ain't that bad. Starts off really high-larious like with an instruction record (to the toon of "Ballin' the Jack") on how to eat lobster and goes from funny funky comedy (Effie Smith) to early sixties nerdo-cum-teen idol wackiness (Oliver Cool) with a pre-Deep Purple Ritchie Blackmore (Outlaws) and I don't know what the hell it is (Microbe Ensemble) in between. There's even some of that lame-o British comedy courtesy a Tony Payne that reminds me of nothing but circa.-1978/1983 PBS and indie television during the late hours. Freddie Cannon was hokay though even though I should loathe him for putting down Link Wray while the two were headin' towards some gig resulting in Wray kicking Cannon's ass out of the car stranding him inna middle of nowhere!!! In all, a better reminder of the past'n those horrid home movies my mom made of me and my cousin running around in front of my grade school (yech!).

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*If you get this ref there's a special no prize or at least a back issue of your choice waiting for you! You're welcome.

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UGLY THINGS #38!

Of course it's more than obvious why I'm happier'n Roman Polanski at a Camp Fire Girls cookout, for the latest issue of UGLY THINGS has finally arrived on my oft barren doorstep! Sheesh, it's amazing as to how Mike Stax can get this mag out on a bi-annual basis with all of the goodies and gunk he packs into each and every one of these rags and naturally this 'un's no exception. However it I must gripe (and why not?) I better mention that this 'un woulda been much better had it been TWICE the size with more occult references to the Velvet Underground than there were, and of course they shoulda enclosed a Cee-Dee of Stax singing lullabies to his kid the way Sky Saxon crooned his puppies to sleep, but maybe I'm just nitpicking.

But whadevva, this is yet another boffoid issue that's kept me glued to the toilet for quite some time, and come to think of it the crapper's a good place ot read this 'un because you'll be so surprised at what you read that who knows just what rectum rockets'll be flyin' outta your hiney when you chance upon an article or mention of one of your faves. The Dave Davies interview is definitely a coup for Stax as is the Jon Savage Screamers thingie, but since I ain't in a Kinks mood this very minute (next minute I will be!) and I've written off the Screamers as yet another buncha punk unto punque wannabes (I mean, look at their fans) I've skipped those over for now. I mean, there are meatier things in life, and in this issue of UGLY THINGS as well.

Actually for me the best part about ish #38 are the little surprises that are snuck in, like that piece on none other'n Lester Bangs' upbringing that sheds light on a whole buncha things we never knew despite all of the articles and books that have come out in the wake of that great's demise. Also boffo were the Greg Prevost (yay!) pieces on Alice Cooper (complete with a Dennis Dunaway interview and some early rare snaps) and Blue Cheer, as well as Alex Stimmell's article on the ever-popular Dust, a band who shoulda had their saga written up long ago making me wonder why it took someone so long just like Aunt Jemima! Jymn Parrett shines as well especially with his piece on Stoney and the Jagged Edge, a forgotten group in the late-sixties pantheon of Detroit Rock who never did make it into this official history books. And of course the myriad assortment (TM) of reviews of recordings, books and DVDs that always has me running to the bank so I can mortgage the house appear...gotta admit that it's my dog's house that's being mortgaged and I do hope he won't mind especially since he's been dead thirty years already!

As you may have guessed my favorite part of this issue has gotta be the continuing Cyril Jordan (of Flamin' Groovies fame) saga where he actually makes late-sixties San Francisco look like an exciting place to have been despite all of the contrary evidence. Sure the burnout hadn't quite set in, but the little sagas that Jordan trots out like the time he shared a joint with Ted Kennedy (!---I hope it didn't affect his driving) and went shopping for EC comics with Jimi Hendrix (makes me wish I hadn't made alla them choking jokes!) really shed some new light on what I woulda thought was the dog ass end of the sixties experiment. Even Janis herself comes off looking swell, she not only being a Groovies fan but someone who used her power in the industry to get 'em a few choice gigs! More power to ya gal, and I don't mean B.O.!

A boffo read for sure, and one that I have the feeling's gonna be sticking around the commode abode for quite awhile. And it's a quite handy read to have around because hey, I get the sneaking suspicion that with the flu season coming up a whole buncha us are gonna be spending more time on the throne than usual, and of course it's always good having a handy read like this around to keep your mind occupied so's you don't have to concentrate on the more disgusting facts facing (or behind) you. Just make sure you have plenty of toilet paper handy because hey, if you do run short you certainly don't want to resort to drastic measures and tear your mag up, do you?
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