Umm... hi. Extreme busy-time for me right now. Today's my birthday (send gifts of recorded and printed matter, plus cash, etc. to the address below) and I'm way behind the ol' 8-ball with work. So of course I'm once again working on this damn thing. I'm Procrastination's Slave. Whatever. Another way I've been blowing time is sorting thru e-mail (this morning I was going back and forth with a couple friends for about an hour) and checking out the InterNet. This computer stuff is pretty wild. The All-Music Guide has discographies and some band bios on a whole bunch of groups... even The Lyres, The Chesterfield Kings, The Cramps, The Mono Men, The Original Sins, and more. It doesn't have everybody, and not even some bios I'd like to see. The writing isn't the most stimulating all the time, but it does give the facts. I'm thinking about writing them some notes... sorta asking for some postings on more underground stuff. There's tons more music stuff, too (not to mention everything else), but still nothing yet on my own obsession. So I think my big Christmas break project is going to involve creating my own home page. It'll have this 'zine (and other friends' publications) and various band info included. Also any tour dates I know, plus a semi-local concert calendar. Sorta my own version of the All Music Guide, but with more rockin' stuff. Look for it no earlier than January.
This Is Issue #50!!! You might have thought that I'd pull out all the stops - maybe do something special. Well, uh, the joke's not as much on you as I originally thought it would be. A year or so ago, when I realized I might actually reach this milestone, I wanted to throw a big party - put on a big show/rock'n'roll dance party. Sadly, that can't happen. I'm in school and I really don't have time to organize it. Maybe in a couple years when I get to #75. Wonder if that'll happen. (Probably... even tho' some nameless numb-nutses thought the TS was dead and buried 'cuz of student status... Bleep You, Spacepeople!) So no party. I also considered calling up everyone who'd ever written anything for this thing and getting them to throw together even a paragraph for some sort of Teen Scene Remembers thing. But then I'd feel like Dick Clark. Besides, that starts to look like too much patting myself on the back. So I've run this (mostly) like a normal issue. The Platterpuss returns with his wit and wisdom (by the way, he'll be online soon, too), but once again, I take care of most of the driving.
The difference between this and previous issues is pretty obvious. And the man responsible for that is Quisp N. Quake. Once he found out I was online, he e-mailed me (this tech stuff is wild - you gotta try it!). Then we ended up talking on the phone and he told me he thought that the last two issues were sort of long for something with no layout. It got to be mind-boggling after a while, he said. Actually, Eric Fusco was another one who told me it was hard to digest. He read through it and needed to take another look to get it all down. So Quisp NQ volunteered to dress it up. Mega-Thanks, Oh Cereal Killer. And my best to the lovely Mrs. Quake.
As it says on the cover, "Give The Guy $1 And See Him Smile!" What does that mean? Well, I'm not demanding money for this thing yet - not when you see me in person. But I wouldn't argue if you gave it to me, either. To help defray costs and such. And as for those folks who want this via snail-mail - send $1 + a 52-cent stamp (a self-addressed envelope is also appreciated). A hearty thank you to those of you who've already done this.
OK... The Party Starts Now!
YOUR HEROES: THEIR MOUNT OLYMPUS:
Blair Buscareno ... Unwinding ever faster � 965-A Bergen Ave.
Jeff Shore ... The Platterpuss smiles his smile North Brunswick, NJ
Quisp N. Quake ... Who not only prettified it, but proofed it a bit, too 08902
(e-mail me at
[email protected])
WFUN DJ PICKS
Blair Buscareno ... Teengenerate, The Rip-Offs, The Makers, The Primate Five, The Kinks
Jeff Shore ... The Swingin' Neckbreakers, The Kwyet Kings, The Woggles
Quisp N. Quake ... The Supersuckers, The Makers, The Queers, The Finks, TrickBabys
Regular Readers know that I don't usually print letters (actually, I don't get that many... usually just notes with a stamp saying 'send me your 'zine'... not even a thank you... some don't even have a note - just an envelope with a stamp... real friendly), but this is my 50th issue and I'm gonna do what I damn well please. (Come to think of it, I pretty much do that in every issue.) Feel free to write (or better yet, send me cool stuff... like money), maybe I'll print your letter. The following is an e-mail message I got from my old Long Island pal/fellow Mosquitos/Secret Service fan Bill Jones a day after he got TS#47-48.
I read The Summer of Fuzz story in the car yesterday, almost causing several accidents, but I was unable to put it down (aw shucks). Similar to my thoughts and reminiscences, but much clearer than mine. Guess the avoidance of alcohol benefits you in that regard! (Unless there's another cause to my memory deficiency) Someday you'll have to write a piece on your introduction to the Boston gang, The Fun House/Four G's/Green Pine Inn gang, etc. By the way, did I ever take you to Stahley's Cellarette in Allentown? It's the greatest day-after place around. Even if you don't have a hangover, the extremely low lighting of the place is very soothing for a Saturday or Sunday mid-day lunch. The prices are the greatest, with the most expensive dish being something like $5.50. Lots of greasy, unhealthy things that would almost be in Nick Tahou's category. After a visit, I'm sure you too will sing praises to this joint. [I smell road trip !-- ed.]
Back to Summer of Fuzz - one dim recollection I have is the dB's/Mosquitos gig at Irving Plaza, 7/84 (?) [nope, 7/20/84 was The Mosquitos/Lyres; the dBs gig was either Christmas -time, '84 or '85. -- ed.] , which I was at with Tony Wolberg (I think). We were VERY pro-Mosquitos and I remember yelling into some guy's cassette recorder during the dB's set "This band sucks!" I'd like to issue a formal apology to that guy, who looked at me & Tony with sympathy and annoyance. I guess he knew that I would someday, if I had any taste at all, be listening to this great band that he was capturing on tape. Actually, I'd love to get a copy of that tape!
Thanks for the kind words, Mr. Jones. I still say the dB's suck, though. Except for "Amplifier" and one or two others. They've got melodies, but they forgot to fill 'em up with go-juice.
WHAT TO MY WONDERING EARS SHOULD APPEAR...
But a CD from the Great Wrapped Wonders, The Mummies. Well, maybe this needs some clarification. It's certainly a disc chock full of Mummified muzack, but it seems for shittin' sure that this is, to put it kindly, not a sanctioned release. The Mummies swore over, under, sideways, & down that they'd never be on CD (unless some Aussie label they'd licensed a couple tracks to before remembering to write the "No-CD" clause into the contract decided to dick 'em over). Well, folks, this one's called Fuck The Mummies.
Let's take a look inside and discover why. Hmm... better yet, let's start on the outside and work our way in. The cover is Mummie-White, with the title the only printing. On the back, we get a single clue, a tiny sticker reading, 'Made In Germany'.
OK, now we can open it up. Hmm, a disc with only a thin white coloring on one side (so we know which side is to be played... how kind!). No printing... obviously. But we do get a little info sheet, listing the first eleven tracks song-by-song. Track twelve is another thief's dozen, live stuff from that New Year's Eve show they did at Maxwells a few years back. The last track, number thirteen, is a quickie... live over WFMU, the band sings their controversial hit, "Mariconda's A Friend Of Mine".
One more clue... those first eleven tracks were produced by Raunch Hand Mike Mariconda.
So, what is this all about?
Well, I don't think I'll ever get the full story, but here's the way I see it.
Way back when, in the nether regions of time, The Mummies were all but unknown in these parts. A few of us had managed to score copies of those fabulous early 45s, with their version of "Dirty Robber", stuff like "Do The Kirk", "That's Mighty Childish", and "Food, Sickles, Girls". One 45 was The Fabulous Mummies, doing Wailers' songs. This was down and dirty garage punk just the way it needed to be. But The Mummies needed to move on to the next phase - a full LP. Well, Crypt Records stepped up to the plate. And to give the boys the spiritual guidance they needed, record label head honcho, Tim Warren, said he'd give them Wild Billy Childish himself, their inspiration. Now, one has to wonder exactly why Tim would do this. The last time he supposedly had Billy signed to produce was the week following the Bad Music Seminar, at which Thee Mighty Caesars had played both nights. See, I'm not sure Mr. C. had completely understood that he was supposed to be filling this role. Various stories have circulated about these sessions, but one thing remains certain. See, the main group Billy was supposed to be working with was The Rat Bastards. Well, these sessions ended up being about it for that bunch, with portions of these recordings becoming the first Devil Dogs' record (note the appearance of three Childish compositions... yeah, I think you can tell which they are). 'Nuff said.
Well, as some may recall, once again, Thee Great Headcoated One did not make it to the proceedings. Something about touring Japan. Pinch-hitting for the Tidy Bowl Man, then, was Mr. Mike Mariconda of The Raunch Hands. As it turned out, this was not what is known as a 'match made in heaven'. The Mummies and Mike did not get on too well. They didn't like what he was doing to their sound. He was over producing them. (Actually, as it turns out from tracks one to eleven on Fuck The Mummies, he was just plain producing them.) But for what The Mummies wanted to be, anything more than a beaten-up desktop tape recorder was overproduction. I guess they wanted it to be a good representation of their live sound. (I was lucky, I saw these guys four times, so I remember what these shows were like, but if you haven't, there are a ton of vids of them out there. In fact, I just saw some at a party at Eric Fusco's the other night.)
Hey, they knew what they wanted. Hell, they must've done something right. After all, look at the host of "lo-fi"/"budget rock" groups that have appeared in their wake... Supercharger (well, they were Mummie-pals, so they saw them live fairly often anyway, but would they have recorded that way if their bandaged pals hadn't done so beforehand? We'll never know), The Statics, The Rip-Offs, The Monarchs, The Brentwoods, The Inhalants, Flathead, The Primate 5, Spider Babies, and a ton of others. Besides, they probably drew more of a crowd than most other garage-trash acts out there. Who woulda thunk it?
So, what about this stuff? How much of it have we seen before? Well, my guess is that we haven't seen these takes at all. But your question probably deals with whether or not the songs have been available before. Well, since I don't have the Telstar version of The Mummies' LP (I got the Hangman version, with fewer songs, before the other one came out... as Homer Simpson says, "DOH!"), and I don't have that Live At Steve's House LP, either, I can't really say, can I? But if we're only dealing with the Hangman version of the LP, plus The Mummies Play Their Own Records�(the comp of the early singles, plus a couple things from some 16mm film soundtrack), then there's actually a bunch of stuff you don't have in any form: "Land of 1000 Dances", "That Girl", "Victim of Circumstances", "She Don't Care", "Speed Track", "Wild Mutha", "F.U.C.K.", and "Hairy Mary". Move thee on then to the live portion of the disc and even more stuff comes your way. Besides covers of material from the singles and LP (and the studio portion of this disc), there's songs like "The Ballad of Iron Eyes Cody", "Ventura Highway", and "Rosie". Oh yeah, and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree".
The disc starts off with "Your Ass (My Face)"... beginning with a scream falling down an octave-long staircase... "I can smell your fuckin' breath / Always breathin' down my neck". Attitude is the name of the game, but you can actually hear everything going on. Still the same sucker-punch the Mummies always delivered, but with a sharper edge, where the slightest touch'll cut you to ribbons. Then "Red Cobra No. 9", more solidly in the 60s garage camp, but with that Mummified sneer... the guitar break here showing that these guys really could play if they felt like it. Hot rod rockin' getting drawn to the punk side of the tracks. "Land of 1000 Dances"... yeah, you've heard this kut a thousand times, and The Mummies are pretty faithful; at least you know what they're playing (unlike some groups who twist things so far you've got no clue). But the wrapped ones still make it dangerous, all the while keeping it a dance-party fave. Somehow I feel like I'm being transported back to that sweaty night in late December a couple years back, the night they played with The Vacant Lot at the old Green Door location on West 24th St. "That Girl (Tribute to Shane White" once again proves The Mummies really were in a class by themselves (detention, most likely). A real rant here. "Victim of Circumstances" starts off with a moody surf reverb feel, somehow falling into the same atmosphere as The Chocolate Watch Band's "I Ain't No Miracle Worker", with Trent's organ adding just the right flavor droppings. "She Don't Care" is more solidly in the 60s punk camp. The tempo is right smack at slo-medium and the group works their way thru a real garage chord progression (much like Li'l Phil & The Night Shadows' "60 Second Swinger" or, more currently, The Primate Five's "She Cleans House"). "Speed Track" mixes Trent's Farfisa way up front (just like it should be), but lets the other instruments have their turn, too. Some cool cops from "California Sun" contained in this one. "Wild Mutha" does the same to "Riot On The Sunset Strip" on a verse here and there... "Watch out babe I'm on the prowl tonight / Gonna go out and get ripped tonight (...) Gonna go down on the chicks tonight / Gonna get all my kicks tonight." What's kinda funny about this is that you can easily hear The Devil Dogs singin' stuff like that, in almost the same way, too. Meanwhile they aren't the best of buddies: folks who were there will remember that, when The Mummies played that New Year's Eve show at Maxwells, The D. Dogs' Steve Baise threw a drink on them while they were on stage. Why? Mariconda was (is) a friend of his. He didn't take too well to their attitude. The moral of this story is that shared musical interests do not necessarily a friendship make. "F.U.C.K." finds the guys flying thru at breakneck speed... this, too, cops off something (whether intentionally or not, I don't know), but I can't remember right now just what. "Shut Your Mouth" is another rant which says... that's right. "Hairy Mary" is the last studio track and is somewhere between party, punk, garage, and trash.
Simply put, these studio tracks show the Mummies in primo form. Few garage groups have ever approached the punk attitude of this bandaged bunch. This collection, though, does something the band itself was never willing to do: prove that they really knew (still do, when they feel like getting together for a free trip to Europe) what they were doing. It wasn't just something thrown together on the spur of the moment, thrown into the blender gone berserk, and set down to the ol' tape recorder. Nope. But it wasn't some formulaic BS, either. Sure, the whole "be lo-fi" thing is great to a point (as long as things rock, I don't much care)... but eventually you might just want to hear what things sound like without Snap, Crackle, & Pop disgorging the contents of their lint-laden assholes in your ears. And these tracks let you know just how punk 60's garage stuff really can be.
The quality on the live stuff is pretty dicey at the start, but eventually things even out. Either that or my ears got used to it (I'm not sure which.) Either way, turning up the volume will help matters. Besides being able to hear the songs better, you'll get a better sense of how wild a show it was. I wish I could remember what the barking was about. Guess I'll have to ask someone for a copy of the video of this show. (Send it as a gift and get a free grab bag of 10 Teen Scenes... or get a year's subscription - anywhere from 6-12 issues, depending).
Now, The Mummies would probably be laughin' their asses off at the price I paid for this sucker - like eighteen bucks! (Minus a $2 off student discount and some store credit.) And maybe even shakin' their heads in disgust over the fact that I'd even bother with a CD of them. Or maybe they're the hidden force behind this, trying to see if they can actually make money off suckers like myself. But I don't care, 'cuz I've got some wild-ass rock'n'roll to show for it.
ON-LINE WITH THE PLATTERPUSS
The 90's have definitely hit Platterpussland in a big way. Not only did I finally get an answering machine (a digital one no less!), but now I'm proudly sitting at my desk typing this here column on my brand new PC. At first, Windows seemed like an interminable maze, but after a little while, plus a little help from my friends (much thanks to Jeff C. and Ken D.), I'm beginning to find my way around better. I wish I could say the same for MS Word, but that's gonna take a bit more doing. Anyway, it's been a bit of a while since I've spouted my words of musical wisdom in these here pages and I've got a shitload of cool tunes and drunken noise to blab about. So, away we go.
Just about anyone reading this is, no doubt, not only familiar with most of The Everly Brothers' hit singles of the 50s and early 60s, but also has a pretty good idea of just how influential their music was to just about everyone who's come along since, whether they realize it or not. Where would The Beatles or The Hollies be without them? Rhino Records has just released the 4-disc Heartaches and Harmonies box set that collects their best recordings from all their different labels to give an incredible overview of their 40-plus year career. All of their big hits are here but, as much as I always enjoy listening to those old classics, for me the real thrill is in hearing some of their lesser known 45s and album tracks from the mid-60s (possibly their most creative period despite their lack of chart success during those years). Songs like "Gone Gone Gone" (the best song that The Beau Brummels never recorded), "You're My Girl", "The Price Of Love" and "Man With Money" are actually some of the better garage records from that time. The songs that they recorded with The Hollies for their Two Yanks in England album are also just amazing. The fact of the matter is that these guys couldn't sing a bad note if their lives depended on it. These disc are a wonderful introduction to two of the most talented guys in the history of Rock & Roll.
One of my favorite CDs of the last few months is definitely Feel Good by The Kliek on the super cool Screaming Apple label out of Germany. I can listen to this all day long and never get tired of it. Staying within the confines of 60s influenced R&R, these guys play in a variety of entertaining styles: Merseybeat, mod-pop, folk-rock and garage, blending them all together to come up with a sound that's at once familiar, yet also all their own. While they're not as relentlessly pounding as some other combos such as The Swingin' Neckbreakers or The Cynics, this Dutch foursome can still rock out with the best of 'em, as they prove beyond all doubts on songs like "Sandra" and "Coal Mine". At the other end of the musical spectrum, "Tell Her You Love Her" and "Little One" are quite pretty, in a folky kind of way. In between, they kick in with some Beatlesque pop ("Feel Good" and "I'll Cry"), garaeg-psych ("Today Is Just Tomorrow's Yesterday") and a pair of instrumentals ("Happy Glow" and "Turkish Tea Party"), not to mention a whole parcel of classic power pop tunes. You CD buyers out there are in for an even bigger treat as the disc version has another 8 bonus tracks, recorded in 1987 and 1990, all of which are as good as the new stuff. Either way, you can get this, and anything else on Screaming Apple, through Get Hip or maybe Midnight.
From another review, I'd read of the Rowdy LP by Karl S. Blue & His Magic Quells (String). I was expecting some exciting yet fairly straightforward R&B and Rockabilly. Silly me. This is some of the most deranged and demented rockin' and rollin' I've ever heard, no bullshit!! Although they don't sound all that alike, these guys do to old R&R what Jack O'Fire do to the blues: while they're still playing the same basic riffs and chords, they manage to turn it completely inside out and on its ass. You haven't lived until you've heard their totally schized-out versions of Chuck Berry's "No Particular Place To Go" and Eddie Cochran's "Something Else". Their originals are all in the same vein and hold up quite well next to the classics. This is one totally bitchin', thoroughly bonkered-out masterpiece that I can't imagine anyone reading this fine zine not totally diggin'. Available thru Outer Limits Mailorder.
Anyone who loves the type of manic mod punk that The Insomniacs turn out (and who in his/her right mind doesn't?) will definitely want to check out the new disc by The Odd Numbers, Retrofitted For Today on Eight-One-Nine Records. Like our New Jersey friends, their music has its roots in the mid-60s with bands like The Who and The Creation, yet it's also infused with the spirit and aggression of modern day punk, resulting in some of the most incredible high-energy garage pop I've ever heard. Somgs like "Something New" and the R&B influenced "So Many Girls" all have that perfect combination of catchy hooks, ringing guitars, and the pent-up charge of a keg of dynamite that's just about to explode.
7-INCHES AND HARD DEPT: Anyone who's into bands like Teengenerate and The Pleasure Fuckers will definitely flip over the new one by The Beavers, "Nancy You're A Square"/"Don't Leave Me" on Kogar Records. I especially like "Nancy..." which sounds as if the singer (and I use that term loosely) chewed on some glass shards for awhile before going out to shoot some speed with the rest of the band. Mike Mariconda's hot production gives this a little extra crunch... Like many of the bands on the fabulous Screaming Apple label, The Breadmakers have their roots planted firmly in the garage but, on their new Two Star Motel EP, I also hear a big R&B influence. The title track almost sounds like an old Animals outtake and a couple of other songs get into a bluesy Slim Harpo type groove. Fans of bands like Dr. Feelgood or early J. Geils oughta really get off on this... Also on Screaming Apple is the new 3-song EP by The Witch Doctors. These guys play raw, organ-fueld garage punk a la early Chesterfield Kings, Cynics and Vipers. While I'd be the first to admit that there's nothing new or "innovative" going on here, the truth of the matter is... who gives a fuck? I've been diggin' this kinda slop since I was 15 and I'm sure I'll still be into it when I'm sitting in my rocker at the old folks home. I know that there are lots of you out there who feel the same way and, if you're one of 'em, you'll want to score a copy of this for yourself... The 3 songs on the new "You Better Run" EP by The Mystreated on Twist Records sound like they could be from some rare Creation outtake from 1966 or so, so authentic is their mixture of mod, psych, pop and garage sounds. Not that this is just some 60's-by-numbers retread as these are also some really terrific songs. The title track, had it actually been recorded back then, would now be in the repertoires of hundreds of garage bands all over the world. And if that ain't the sign of a true classic, I don't know what is... The Devil Dogs don't ever have to change one lick 'cause it seems like they just keep on geting better and better at what they do, whic is playing blistering red-hot Punk Rock with just the right combination of youthful, testosterone-fueled aggression and melodic catchy hooks. Their latest, the LBMF EP on Headache Records will delight old and new fans alike with 3 band originals plus a remake of Gary Glitter's "Shaky Sue". Way to go guys.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you found something that piqued your interest enough for you to actually go and seek out. Despite the fact that things seem to have quieted down considerably over the last year on the local scene, there's still a lot of truly great music being made out there. You just gotta look a little harder for it. Catch ya later.
(Like The Puss said... he's now got a PC. And, like the rest of this month's TS staff, he's also gone online. Make him happy and send him some e-mail. His e-address is:
[email protected]
That's right, no 'e' between the 'tt' and the 'r' - he was only allowed ten characters.)
PINBALL BREAK
I first flipped out over pinball as a seven-year old at the barbershop. I had to stand on a wooden chair to be able to see the dang thing, but I was completely hooked. By age ten or so I had my own table... sort of a double or triple-A thing as compared to what you'd find in the barber shop or wherever, but it was my own. Full-sized, too. The main difference, really, was the scoring mechanism... done on a wheel, rather than with numbers flipping up on the board. Hey, it was good enough for me. In fact, as this cost me absolutely zilchoid to play, it was even better. And I got my first multiball experience long before I ever saw it on a store-type pin... I had five of the old silver balls in my machine, so I'd just crank 'em on into the lane and let fly. In retrospect, of course, this might have had something to do with the untimely demise of my pin-pal; I don't think he was quite equipped to deal with all that action.
I don't remember too much about pinball between now and the next major episode, but there were always one or two machines in the six-lane bowling alley at the Winter Clove up in Round Top, NY, where my family vacationed for a week every August as I grew up. The one I remember the best dealt with bowling... with the object to knock down ten drop targets about midway up on the left, slanted at a diagonal perfect for a shot from the right flipper. The nice thing about the Winter Clove (in regards to this) was that it took them about five years to get rid of anything (including certain songs on the jukebox). So my fave game was there for quite a while.
Flip now to spring of ninth grade... let's see, that's 1980. While I was in junior high, what had been a decrepit roller-rink in my grade school days had been turned into a skate-park - bowl, half-pipe, etc. I'd never quite caught on to this bit... at least not past the downhill-on-the-street variety. By ninth grade, though, the skate-park had reached its last legs. And that Spring, a new roller-rink popped up to take its place. Laces. Tons of stories could be written about the nights spent at that stronghold of the too-young-to-drive, too-old-to-hang-with-the-family-on-Friday-night crowd, but it's time we got back to the subject at hand. At various times the machines were at different places. For a while in tenth grade they were right near the food/drink counter. Convenient, 'cuz our pal Doreen was then working said concession, which meant we had refreshments in our hands at all times for free, saving our quarters for the all-important, all-knowing pinball games at hand.
And then there was Kelly. She was this beautiful girl I'd met whilst up at the Winter Clove that summer. And it just so happened that she was from our hometown. She was two grades behind me - my brother's year. The only reason we didn't know her was 'cuz she went to Catholic school. I was nuts over her from the moment I saw her. My brothers and friends hated her - or at least gave her such incredible shit that she wasn't exactly thrilled to pieces to be there. But we still managed to have a pretty great time together. I was supposed to meet her at Laces the Sunday after we got back, but had forgotten about a family party that night. Ouch! That didn't exactly give me points in Kelly's book. The next time I saw her, though, was - sure enough - at Laces. And where, you ask, might this love of my fourteen-year old life be? Playing pinball, of course. At first she barely acknowledged me. Her game ended and I hander her another quarter just to keep her from taking off. And another. And another. It got to the point where she'd put her hand out at the end of the game. And I'd just keep handing over quarters. It was sort of my penance for not having gotten in touch with her that Sunday night. But if that was what it took to get back in her good graces, I was quite willing to pay the price in quarters. Hell, if she was that into pinball, it was even more worth it.
But my favorite pinball game at Laces was Superball Mania. By this time, the roller rink had built up the mid-section of the rink... now it was an explosion of sound and light in the midst of people whirling counter-clockwise on a wooden floor. Superball Mania was the game. It had this thing right in the center... I think maybe a target in the middle, but about an inch or two to each side was an entrance not much bigger than the ball, and when you went in it would slingshot right back down leaving you with not only a greater potential point value (I think it was a multiplier), but a fantastic feeling, as well.
Then came my time at the University of Rochester. By my junior year I had hooked myself up with one of the primo campus jobs. I got to work in the recreation center of the student union building. My job was to rent out the pool and ping-pong equipment and write down what machines weren't working. And put on whatever music I liked and force it down the clogged ears of everyone in the vicinity. A dream job, really. And only a few feet away were my beloved pinball machines. Ah, perfection.
And so I graduated in 1987. Back down to Long Island and soon I moved into my first apartment, in Wallington, NJ. I'd be in Manhattan all but one or two nights a week seeing rock'n'roll shows. Then World Famous Blue Jays' big man Jeremy Tepper set up the Rock'n'Roll Pinball Jackpot Extravaganza at Z-Bar. Five bucks bought you three bands (WFBJs, The Pussywillows, & The Vacant Lot), free pinball, and free Buffalo wings plus prizes for certain scores. Was Diner one of them? I think so, 'cuz not long thereafter I remember spending tons of time with then V. Lotters Mitro and Paul (both now TrickBabys) playing this one. "STIR THE CUP!!! " they'd scream.
For quite a while I was pinball crazy all over again. Tons of cool machines would get me completely gone. One particular fave in the late 80s, I believe, was Pinbot. Like the night at the now grown-over Miniature Golf place on Jericho Turnpike in Elwood, Long Island with my friend Susan. Susan now lives out in LA and I called her to see if she remembered. "Oh, YEAH! The night we got tons of free games. We were great that night." Yup, one of those times when you just can't lose. A pinball player lives for those.
For a while I only played on occasion, while I was at a bar and no one was around yet. But now that I've moved down to North Brunswick I no longer have a washer and dryer. So I'm forced to the laundromat. Luckily, one of the closest ones always has a pinball waiting to come alive. When I first arrived they had a machine that gave free games for a lousy 1.3 Million. Not exactly a major accomplishment. One quarter usually allowed me to play for the entire two hours I was there... and then hand it over to some little kid who'd been watching. (Another thing that makes you feel great.)
This past Friday I went to the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics Eastern Regional Conference in Somerset, NJ. (I'm workin' towards a Masters in Education, remember...) Lunchtime found me down at the exhibit hall in the Garden State Something or Other. After cruising the exhibits for about an hour, I got hungry. But the line was way too long for my tastes. I settled for stale pretzels from the vending machine. Right next to which was... DINER! The quarter went in...
Replay was set at 3.6 Million. My first game got me to just over 3.5. Bummer. It wasn't long, though, before I was making the Replay without too much of a problem. My first Stirring of the Cup netted me 2.7 Million! As time and free games went on, I got better (luckier, too). What was nice was that the machine wasn't so loud that it disturbed everyone's lunch. Except for the loud THWACK! announcing that I'd notched up another credit. I swore I'd get onto the high score board... the four ranged from 7.0 to 8.5. Of course, I wasn't quite expecting what came next. Dinetime... 6 Million biggies. And suddenly I'd made it to 12.8 Million. I'd heard my first THWACK at the normal 3.6. But upon the end of this one the machine announced that for becoming Numero Uno I had earned three freebies. THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!!! And there I was sittin' on top of the world.
Pinball players are sort of like gamblers. Just one more, we tell ourselves, and we'll make the replay. And (sometimes more than) a few dollars later, maybe they do. Thing is, that's not good enough. Then we've got to go after that high score. This can get expensive. Say we do make it... then, depending on the machine, we may just get that Triple-THWACK! But then, as in my case, there are a bunch of free games coming to us. Well, we can't let them go to waste, can we? Well, in my case I could... eventually. I had promised myself that I'd go to this talk on Probability in the Classroom. Pretty cool, too. I won myself a tote bag. I just made it to that, though. 'Cuz two games after that high game I made it to 10.5 Million, which was a THWACK! for getting 3.6 and another THWACK! for getting on the High Score board. I finally ripped myself away from the machine and ran to the Probability thing. Thing is, if my car hadn't been in the shop, I probably would've gone right back afterwards to see if anyone had used them up. Probably not since no one seemed to have touched the game before I got there. As it was, though, Roberta was picking me up.
Besides, it was laundry day... so more pinball was in my future. Much to my surprise, though, they'd changed the game. What was in place of the non-challenge I'd grown to love? Funhouse. An oldie, but goodie. Time to get hooked again.
Words, Et Cetera:
Heeeeere's th'Skeever! Can't believe me olde roomie has now put out five of these buggers, but I'm definitely psyched. CapSoul Reviews #5 sees (as big corporations love to put in their year-end reports) "continued growth." This time out, Skeever's added cartoonist Mark Woody to the staff, a definite plus. Two editorials, this month... "Green Day: Adenoids Annoy? or American Novel Teabags!" & "Cher-Alike". In the first, Skeever tells us that,
"At first I thought the singer was just trying to sound as British as he could -- a sub-limey if you will. Chip just assumed that he was English and when told otherwise, she said 'maybe he just needs to clean the boogies out of his nose...'"
The Cher thing starts with being "freaked out by Melissa Etheridge wagging her doggy hair all over my TV screen" and meanders thru Eddie Vedder, the 'Stoned Pimple Pilots', "how much Axl Rose [sounds] like Ethel Merman", makes a pit stop back at "this Etheridge, spitting all over the microphone" and ends up with Sonny's "And The Beat Goes On". But, as we all know, the reason to pick up CapSoul in the first place is the reviews... mainly the ones the Skeever finds on his trips to garage sales and used bins (gotta get him down the the Princeton Record Exchange). "The Sensuous Black Woman with The Madam", described by The Skeever as "The best find of the year" (and unfortunately not by him, but by his pal Dang Cooked, "proprietor of the spanking new Gimmee Gimmee Records on East 5th between 1st & 2nd... plug, plug), sounds wild, tho' not something I could play on the air.
"Instead of a seductive voice, the narrator 'The Madam' sounds like Aunt Esther on an afrodisiac bender.... Included in the boldly answered inquiries is how to find the manhood under a big fat belly."
Other winners this time out include the "Con Edison Nuclear Record", "Latin Spectacular", not one, but two LPs by "Doug Clark & the Hot Nuts", Peppi Moreale, and Ruby Wright's "Billy Broke My Heart At Walgreens (I Cried All The Way To Sears)". Skeever also tells why he picks The Only Ones over The Soft Boys, finally gets a Man or Astroman? record and digs it as much as all his pals, and checks out a couple shows ("LIVE... Maureen Tucker w/Sterling Morrison" and "DEAD... The Specials"). Much more... including The Skeever hitting the InterNet (which is why he and I are in closer contact these days.) Send one measly dollar to CapSoul Reviews, 31-62 29th Street, #6M, Astoria, NY 11106. (Or send him a message at
[email protected]).
Schlock, glorious Schlock. I guess it was back around #46 that I last reviewed one of these. That was the TS that I finished about twelve hours before The PlatterPuss and I boarded a plane out to GarageShock. The one made possible from a grant from Matthew T. Kaplan, Esq. (the guy who puts out Share The Modern World With Me once or twice each decade). Or, more accurately, he graciously allowed me to use the copier in the law offices he shares with his dear old dad. But you've heard about that already. This meant that I took about 150-200 copies of TS #46 to GarageShock with me (in addition to extra copies of #s 44 & 45). That meant I had quite a bit to carry. How did I lighten my load for the way back? I gave 'em all away. Well, most of 'em. Enough so that they were gone one week later. And suddenly I didn't have one to send to Schlock-meister John Chilson, who'd so kindly sent me the ish I'd reviewed. I kept meaning to get in touch, but summer was long and I was hard at work on this dang school thing. And then Roberta and I moved down here to North Brunswick. And I never did find an extra copy of #46 to send John. But I did mail him copies of whatever ones I still had, including the epic #47-48. And in return I got Schlock numbers 8,9, & 11. (Yeah, finally I'm getting to it.) John's gone to what The Skeever (in his latest e-mail message) calls "high school newspaper" format. Which I like (and so does the Skeever). Four newspaper long pages of truly interesting material. (I'm gonna have to try my hand at the "interesting" thing one of these days.) Let's start with numero eight. Featured this go-round is "The Sue Lyon Saga", all about the lovely Lolita lady. Jon Kanis digs deep and ends up wishing he hadn't...
"With the answers to my questions, I feel like I've ben cheated. As though I bit off the head of a chocolate Easter bunny; all sweet and pretty on the outside, but completely hollow on the inside."
(By the way, Roberta and I rented Lolita last night - my first time seeing this "Drama Classic" as Blockbuster has classified it. Cool stuff, ending much differently than I'd envisioned.) Number nine (#9, #9) features Sue Stax on "Whips, Chains & Feedback: The Velvet Underground on Video" plus the Schlock take on Wolf (if it's a werewolf flick you want, look elsewhere). #11 starts off with Tony Suarez investigating "Two-Wheeled Cool", reviewing a bunch of films where Vespa and Lambretta scooters get "more than their fair share of the spotlight." Beth Accomando checks out the Jackie Chan story, reviewing some of his movies and taking a look at (what when she wrote it was) an upcoming Chan filmfest in San Diego. Featured in all issues are "Video Miscellanea" and "Spilled Ink", John's 'zine review section. Some also feature the "Wax Museum" (I think you've got this one figured out). Another fave section is "Behind The 'Zines" in which the ed. interviews 'zine editors about their publications. Send $1 to Schlock!, 3841 Fourth Ave. #192, San Diego, CA 92103.
It took me a while to get in touch with most of the people I met out at GarageShock this year. I'd been meaning to send them a copy of the post-G.Shock issue right away, but as all you loyal readers know all-too-well, I didn't exactly get around to putting it out "right away". It took me three months. (OUCH!!!) Of course, it was extra fat, but... Anyway, you'll remember from that bloated behemoth that the only 'zine I picked up out at G-Shock was multiball, out of Mork & Mindy's home stomping grounds of Boulder, Colorado. Well, I sent them ish #47-48 and received their latest, #4, in response. "Flipper Action Culture", indeed... this is a pinball fan's dream-zine. This bunch is heavily into the body table... nothing like a good, healthy obsession. Whoever said obsession is a dangerous thing didn't know the first thing about the intensity experienced by the obsessed... how damn GOOD it can be. That feeling I get from ultimate rock'n'roll nights... it's the reason I check out so much of this rock'n'roll stuff... I'm always on a quest for that ESQ experience. Most occasions don't find me topping Everest, but that's OK, 'cuz it makes the times I do Extra Special... and even the ones that don't make it all the way can still be a good time, 'cuz it's what I like to do. And with this bunch it's pinball. I don't know if they're as completely crazed as I am with my obsession, but at least they've got something that grabs them, which is more than I can say for a bunch of happy hour hicks. The "oh-let's-go-to TGI-Friday's" crowd. I want a focus... something that brings together those with like minds. Hmm... I'm drifting, aren't I? Back to multiball. Tons of great stuff here: "False Gods" which declares that a "disorienting cloud of temptation is all the magna-save has to offer" (tell me about it); "Don't Buy It", where they report on a new Planet of the Apes, then telling us exactly what we should have expected, quoting producer Don Murphy in Sci-Fi Universe,
'We are not making the reinvented Planet of the Apes to appeal to the hundred or thousand people who cannot get enough of the Apes marathons once a year when some channel like TNT runs them. We're going to make it so it appeals to forty million people who want to see what could easily be the next Jurassic Park. This movie is going to be an epic - a major summer blockbuster, and you get very few of those. Kenner has already signed up to do the toys. We do note even have a script, and they are already designing toys - go figure. It's going to be a humongous flick.'"
Their response? "What an asshole."
"Ride The Ferris Wheel" takes us on a pinball nut's journey from novice to the pure joys of true fandom/obsession. Article author Andy R. writes, "It's only recently that I've realized that video games are to pinball what adult magazines are to sex." Well said. Also included is an article on GarageShock, an interview with Estrus Records' Dave Crider; a poem called "Breakfast" all about Bloody Marys; a bit on Casting Couch records... and tons more. "The price already," demandeth the Generic Impatient Reader. Well, bucko, this pint-sized pamphlet is absolutely free. 'Tis verily true. But if you have even the hint of a soul, you'll cast a buck their way. Not their demand, by the way... just my way of telling you to support cool stuff like this. Write to: multiball, 2525 Arapahoe Ave, Suite E4-170, Boulder, CO 80302.
Sticking in Mork-From-Ork town, we come across anodyne. I met editor Julie Atomic at GarageShock on the Saturday night, when I handed her TS #46 . She apologized for not having something to give me. I told her I really wasn't expecting anything; and, thusly she explained that she did the 'zine that we're about to get to now. In June I got a letter from Julie with a little slip of paper with a picture depicting a guy and gal holding up a blank sign. The instructions were to fill this in with any message you wanted and send it on back... 24 replies are printed in her current ish. (Mine came from something Matthew Kaplan said to me during a particularly profound moment on the phone 'You know... you can use a compact disc to look at the hairs in your nose.' Witty, eh?) There are some pretty cool ones, too... but I'll leave that for when you write away to Julie asking her for it. Also... a visit to a prison museum/gift shop, a story about taking a picture of a truly ugly child... she asks if she can take the brat's picture and the mother, who was "the length and breadth of a John Deer tractor tire," asked what her project was all about.
"America's ugliest children."
"WHAT did you say?" she bellowed.
"I asked if you would mind."
"Huh? Oh, uh..." said the patron saint of agriculture, "I guess not."
I turned my camera toward the girl, focusing on the lollipop. She smiled up at me, ten stories tall. 'I have a pig."
"You what?" I replied.
"I have a pig."
"You're a fat pig?"
Either I missed the price tag on this one or there is none. So I suggest sending $1 plus postage to Julie Atomic at 2010 19th St., Boulder, CO 80302.
Oh Yeah... a new 3:AM courtesy of Mr. Joseph Johnson (of the Oil City, PA Johnsons). This thing is one of the most entertaining 'zines on the market. Leading off #17 is Joe the Ed's trip to Date Bait Brian Horrorwitz' place in Silver Springs, MD. Anyone who's ever picked had the pleasure of perusing the pages of this 'zine knows that road trips are a Johnson specialty. And his description of the way the great state of Pennsylvania manages to bring people together is something special. (Truth is, I was going to give it to you in Joe's own words, but then found something even better in this issue's Carter Berry Tales). Now, besides a nice visit with Brian, the purpose of Joe's visit was to check out Fanex 8. And that's where Brian Horrorwitz gets in his licks... with a little piece called "I Coulda Fucked Ingrid Pitt". (Editor's Note: Get the feeling this is not gonna be an issue to proudly hand to Mom?). On to those Carter Berry Tales... this time around, Joe lets Bill tell some of his own stories... like this one in which he has driven to Canada.
"ONCE I'S UP 'ERE IN CANADA I THOUGHT IT WOULDN'T TAKE NO TIME AT ALL TO GET WHERE I WAS GOIN', THEY ALLOWED YA TO DRIVE LIKE A BAT OUTTA HELL UP THERE."
Bill was pulled over for doing 96 mph by Canadian troopers. But they let him go.
"They thought it was pretty damn funny that I didn't know what the hell a kilometer was. I'd never even hearda one before. I think they was makin' fun of me, tho. That one guy couldn't keep a straight face when he tried sayin' ingnorance of the law is no excuse."
"Bill, what did you say when they informed you of what that speed limit meant? Be hones."
"Well, I went on to tell 'em 'bout them kilometers, but it first just come out I-I-I-I-I-I... Boy, that was news to me. I's surprised when they pulled me over. I told 'em I wudn't even goin' a hunnert yet."
Is this the end? Hell, no - you're only on page 5. Also included is a trip to Cleveland to check out The Mortals and The Mono Men, complete with chats with most of the band members. But as all 3:AM readers know, Joe's got two loves, the other of which is movies (or did you pick that up from his driving down to Washington for Fanex?). Most of the time he concentrates on older horror/B-movie flicks. And this one does not disappoint on that score, as he visits Murder Mansion and Bell From Hell. But this one also gives the lowdown on a couple '93 releases that've recently hit video: Boxing Helena and Serial Mom. I got this ish Thursday, so Friday night I headed to the local video emporium (actually, the closest place is Blockbuster) and grabbed these two suckers. (Actually, first I looked to see if they had a flick Roberta wanted. Whatta guy, huh? They didn't, though, so...) Roberta didn't much like the former. Kinda weird for her. But I'm not gonna review it, 'cuz that's Joe's job. Serial Mom, however was a blast. All this, plus "Plan 9 A-Go-Go" (hint: music, musicians, and cover art associated in some way, shape, or form with said film), 'zine and record reviews (including The Swingin' Neckbreakers and Teengenerate, so you know Joe's got taste), plus a comic entitled "Tura Satana in 'Mars STILL Needs Women'". Very possibly Joe's best yet, and easily the number one 'zine reviewed in this epic 50th issue. Only $1.50 to Joseph Johnson, 152 West 3rd St., Oil City, PA 16301.
Geez! I thought I was done with this damn section. Well, that's what happens when you don't get things out on a regular basis, I guess. This thing used to have a regular deadline every month. But then all I was doing was going to work everyday. Now I've gotta concentrate on this school stuff.� And so today's mail brought me another couple 'zines to look through. The first is the third anniversary issue (Congrats, Mr. A!) of Ralph, self-described as being about "coffee, jazz, & poetry". Well, mostly. Let's get down to it. As Ralph writes, "The theme this month is Gothic, I guess. A certain sadness, but also home." It still amazes me that I like this 'zine; I'm one of those people who was never a big fan of poetry in HS. But I guess that issue Ralph did some months back with The Kinks' Kontroversy LP as the theme did it for me. This time out my favorite (rather unsurprisingly) is "Baby When Peter Perrett Sings I Go To Heaven On Silver Wings". In a small note at the bottom of the following page, Ralph writes that Peter Perret "was the one true romantic in the midst of 70's punk; his haunting cries lost in the din." Others that have special effects on me are "We Were So Pretty When" and "Mine Is The Last Prayer God Hears Every Night". If you live in Vancouver, you can probably find this around for free... the rest of you should send an IRC. Hell, just send him a buck, will ya? Write to RALPH, Box 505-1288 Broughton St., Vancouver, BC, CANADA, V6G 2B5. E-mail to
[email protected].
Evil Eye #13. It had to come sometime, and here it is. And it's the best one yet. This one's back at digest size, with tons of cool stuff. Besides the usual 'zine and record reviews (including one of The Optic Nerve collection on Get Hip, Lotta Nerve, which I NEED!), Larry goes off on Republican wooing of the lunatic fringe and talk radio arch-conservative Bob Grant. His review of Pulp Fiction is the most literate, together one I've seen. But the reason to send Larry your George Washington is this issue's feature, "Riot On Route 35", about rock'n'roll on the Jersey Shore in the mid to late '60s, covering such groups ass The Castiles (see 'The Boss' in 1965), The Mods, The Motifs, Thee Muffins, The Hallmarks, The Inmates, The Storytellers, and more, plus the places they played, and what happened to who. Send $1 to Evil Eye, c/o Grogan, 3 Tulip Ct., Jackson, NJ 08527.
I was originally planning on mentioning a couple of e-zines that I think are worthwhile (like Funhouse!), but since this is still being published solely in the print format (at least for now), I 'm gonna hold off. Maybe once I put a home page together, I'll just give links to those I think are worthy. Now I can get back to reading Psychometrics.
HEARD ON THE HI-FI (ETC.)
when you roll a pair of dice, the most likely outcome is seven:
Once upon a time ("Mmm," thinks Li'l Cindy, "this is gonna be a good story; it started with 'Once Upon A Time'... Lemme go get my blanket so I can curl up an' lissen." Sucker!)... Once upon a time, I truly believed there was no reason for me to write negative reviews. But as time went by, I occasionally found myself sprayed with some real skunk-juice. P.U. Which brings us to the subject at hand. Actually, this one isn't what you'd call a room-clearer, but it sure as hell wasn't worth the $3.59 plus tax I paid for it, either. The group is The Pagodas. Nothing special about that name, so what made me shell out the cash for their 45 on Kade Records? Well, besides an incredible lapse in judgement, it was the fact that it featured the King of the Surf Guitar, Mr. Dick Dale, doing what he does best. Which made me figure that this would be some wild surf instro material. Till I got home and read the label... listing one of the band members as writing lyrics. "OK, so maybe it's some cool early 60s sounding surf vocal type thing," thought I. No dice. Maybe that's what these chumps were tryin' for, but success could've hid naked in Town Square and these guys wouldn't have found it. Not with this record. Sure, Double D sounds fine, but these guys... ah, hell, they just don't got what it takes. The singer kinda reminds me of a guy in one of those lousy English bands from the 80s... not that he goes for the Teabag accent or anything... but he still puts out that putrid air. Again, this isn't horrible, but it wasn't worth my money. For Dick Dale completists only.
YEAH! There's a whole slew of new releases from one of the number one rockin' punk outfits in existence today... that's Teengenerate, folks. I've yet to pick up their 10-incher on Sympathy or the Dionysus 45, so we'll stick with the "Dirty Robber" four-songer (Lucky) and "She's A Dumb" (Wallabies Records, who put out their debut 45). The latter, a split with the Screaming Bloody Marys, is pretty much standard Teengen fare... Radio Birdman on speed recorded by an auto mechanic giving his fave car a complete overhaul at the same time. But the trick is to get beyond the sound quality and check out the energy and the guitar breaks. Also cool for the cover of The Nervous Eaters' "Just Head". The last time I bought a Teengen split the other side turned out to be one of the most godawful rackets ever to take a chunk out of my eardrums. (Remember: avoid The Stepford 5, avoid The Stepford 5... Got it? Good.) This time, though, we've got the SBMs, who turn in a couple pretty inspired punkers in the early 80s Ramones vein. "Junior" is the pick of the two, with both energy and melody hammerin' away. Now... onto the real winner, the 4-songer on Lucky. With help from Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows, Mr. Conrad Uno, and Joey Kline, Teengenerate have recorded their best-sounding record to date. Not only that, it rocks like frickin' mad! The only strange thing is that the only cut Teengen actually grab the mic for is "Don't Come Close To Me", with that trademark vocal comin' thru clearer than ever before. But don't write the other three shots out just 'cuz the guys don't vocalize, either. Guest vocalists take the mic for "Dirty Robber", "What A Girl Can't Do", and what must be at least the third or fourth recorded cover of Scott's 1st LP YFF gem, "Big House". All three of these are wild-ass rock'n'roll the likes of which you don't hear nearly often enough. Pick this one up, folks.
Rat City must be one helluva place, 'cuz they've got some of the wildest garage-punk outfits in the NorthWest sportin' their label. The two latest entries come from The Primate Five and The Spider Babies, both of whom use ye olde organ to good effect. Of the two, The P-5 are the more solidly garage outfit, while The Spider Babies have the nastier aural disposition. Both of these, however, have been receiving major air-time on my show. Let's start with The Spider Babies. "Hey Baby, you wanna go out? / Hey Baby, let it all hang out..." This thing GOES! Definitely punk, but still groovin' in the garage. While the flip, "Spider Baby" isn't as immediately grabbing as the fast, snotty (but fun!) rant up top ("Hey Baby" is the name of that one, in case you hadn't figured it out), it's still cool, especially the organ... Listening to The Primate Five's "She Cleans House", it hits me that I'm still going nuts over some of the same kind of stuff I was into over ten years ago. Kind of nice, isn't it. Sure, I've flipped over some more varied stuff since, but a pure garage-punker like this one still gets me up and moving. And someday this one will be considered a 90s Nugget... at least among the garage crowd fifteen years down the road. Call me Criswell, call me Amazing, but don't call me Amazing Criswell (or late for dinner... that one goes out to Mr. Pat Lozito.) As for the flip, "Bullet Train" reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on it... give me a year and I'm sure I'll have it. The "P-5 Theme" (what is it about the Rat City/Rip Off crowds... themes run big in their camps) is instro coolness. Definitely worth a listen. Buy this one and most other stuff on Rat City - a label you can trust (so far, anyway).
Flathead have presented their latest effort to the folks at Bag of Hammers Records, who in turn have wrapped it up nicely and sent them on their way to what they hope will be some very happy homes. Better put me down in the minus column, folks. "Whisper" is a bit too Heavy/Northwest for me. But at least it doesn't crawl like some grunge-slug. It's not fast, but at least it's got a pulse. Unfortunately, "Get The Feel" and "Night And Day" don't manage to nudge them back in the more interesting direction of their earlier recordings. Oh, well.
Not to be outdone, Crider & Crew over at Estrus have the latest Crust Club releases on sale now (in addition to various ten-inchers, CDs, and some non-Crust 45s). The Oblivians' Blow Their Cool EP continues on in their tradition of taking the ol' chain saw and spattering blood and guts all over an elated audience. The Inhalants' "Alright Hit It"/"Instrumental" (that title must've come to them in a dream or something) demands your cash mostly for the top side. As much as people wanna say this Texas trio is in the Supercharger vein,, I gotta disagree. Sure it's lo-fi, like all the Radio X, Rip-Off, Rat City, etc. stuff, but definitely closer to The Statics with The Makers thrown in. Even that doesn't really cover it... maybe a charred version - tougher meat (Texas-style, I guess) than the lo-fi supreme crowd. This one turns the melody knob down, but comes down heavy on the 'Sneer' pedal.
Step On My Big Ten-Inch (Record):
Don't you even think about it, pal. Not this one, anyways. The Makers make this format move like mad yet again. (This has gotta be the first bunch I've ever been into that's made two 10-inchers.) This time around the platter in question is entitled The Devil's Nine Questions (Estrus), and features Spokane's worst nightmares shutting their yaps and letting their instruments go where they will. What then, you may well ask, does lead throat Mike Maker do? Glad you asked. He handles organ duties. So how is this thing? Damn good. The Makers continue to inject their rather well-known personalities into their music... and to stunning effect. The Makers may manage to piss off a rather large segment of the population through both their comments and their actions, but it all comes down to one thing doesn't it? Can they rock out? Easy answer... Hell, yeah! Besides, hasn't pissing people off always been a part of rock'n'roll? I think what's upsetting is that those of us who consider ourselves true rock'n'roll afficionados expect them to be completely on our side. We want to be in on the joke... all making fun of what's outside. Hey... it pissed me off royally when Mike told me what he thought of one of my fave combos (see the GarageShock article in TS #47-48)... not just what he said, but the sneer that came to his face when he said it. But the guy's entitled to his own opinion (no matter how much I disagree). And I'm sure as hell not gonna let something like that keep me from buying some of the best garage/punk/R&B stuff on today's scene. Which means I'll be buying Makers' records as long as they can keep up the savage intensity they've been injecting straight to the vein every time they press record on that little tape recorder of their's.
Longer Forms:
Only one of each this time out (not counting The P'Puss column or the Mummies disc, dealt with elsewhere), so we'll throw both LPs and CDs together. First comes The Fall-Outs' Sleep CD. Well, you heard all about the title cut last issue (in its seven-inch form). Great sing-along in understanding glee kinda melody with cool crunching for the tough-minded... blah,blah,blah. This is the kinda kut that could get a group (gasp) signed if someone actually took notice. Catchy, with guts, singin' about something most everyone from the late teens on can identify with. But if that's all there is to this disc, you might as well skip it and just buy the 45 (unless you're one of those losers who doesn't have a turntable... to which I say, go to the flea market or a garage sale: they'll be cheap). So? Luckily, this thing's not a one-hit wonder. While "Sleep" is easily the best thing contained herein, nothing on here sucks. "Seen The Light" and "Spies" are pretty rockin', but personally I prefer stuff like "Zombie", with more of that melody stuff creepin' in thru the cracks in the walls. "Doesn't Help At All" is another one that falls somewhere between garage & punk (in much the same way their old stuff did), but uses those pop hooks to reel you in every time. Think I'll try this one on the air this week. "Think of Something Else" at one point reminded me of Nirvana, but then the melody engages you again... but it's got that same kind rhy thm at points - "Time spent with you is time spent better by myself." Hmm. Things end on an up note with "I Wish You'd Come Back", probably the purest pop thing on the record and what I'd pick as a second single if I was doing the choosing. Part of it even hints at '64 Beatle-pop, while still managing to sound incredibly fresh. I changed my mind - this one's definitely going on the air this week. Until this song came on, I was ready to say that if you're tight on cash, skip this disc and go find the 45... until this came on. You need this song, folks. So spend the cash... you'll get two great songs, a bunch of fairly good ones, and nothing unlistenable.
The Rip Offs' Got A Record (Rip Off). If you know anything at all about The Rip Offs, then you already knew this was the LP. And, as a result, you all now HAVE to go buy a record player. Otherwise you miss out on one of the best recordings of '94. You'd think that'd mean I'd have an easy time reviewing this one. Not so, amigos. I can't say why exactly, I just can't think of what to say to convince you that this is an absolute must. The Rip-Offs are, in my mind, the current wearers of the budget rock crown. Anyone who's seen them knows they really let fly live. (Easily one of the top acts at GarageShock, '94.) This LP presents them in all their masked punk rock glory. "Heat Seeker" starts things off with an instrumental punk sizzle, galloping and mowing down anything in its path. As it ends, "Rip Your Heart Out" jumps right in, going vocal and erasing any vestigial doubt left in your mind that these guys are the ones to beat. On this one they tell it like it is. Just about everything on this LP is a winner, with "Shadow" and "Zodiac" being some of my current faves. But like I said, there ain't a loser in the bunch. Buy this one and thank me later.
Live And Outtasite (Vs. Dead And Outta Mind):
We'll start with the latter. I've missed so many great shows 'cuz of this school thing that I'm starting to feel like a frickin' corpse. When I first started workin' for Equitable Life in the Summer of '87, I was goin' out all the time. For a couple years I kept count of how many shows I saw within a calendar year. I'd actually write down on my calendar at work which gigs I caught at what club in what town on what night. And at the end of the month I'd count 'em up. In '88 it came out in the mid 180s. And the next year, when Continental Divide had cool rock'n'roll every Monday, I made it to 237 shows. (Remember, of course, that this includes some nights where I'd catch three shows at different places.) It got to the point where I'd be coming in from my then-home in Wallington, NJ (only about 25 minutes from the East Village) to Avenue A so often that one of the street people there used to call me "Mr. Avenue A" 'cuz I was always there on that axis between 5th and 7th Streets. I felt incredibly alive.
Now it's late '94 and I'm living down in North Brunswick, close to an hour from the East Village. I'm in school and there are nights I just refuse to go to shows 'cuz I've got too much work to do. It sucks.
The 'Outta Mind' thing? Well, take it either of two ways. First, I feel like I'm fading into the dustbins of time; like I'm not a part of things anymore. Roberta says that it'll only be another year then I'll be back out there, that this was my choice, what I wanted to do. Well, yeah, that's true, but the reality of it... sucks. Somebody reassure me.
The other way? Easy, I feel like I'm goin' nuts with all this work to do. I'm turning 29 this week (umm... you won't get this till possibly a month after my B-day, but gifts of cash, records, and anything sleazy are always welcome, anyway), and I have no time to even do anything with my friends. I'm currently working on a paper that's about 4 weeks late (first time in my life I've ever turned anything in late); I've got a big Geometry test (no, this is NOT ye olde high school geometry) this Thursday; and a lesson plan due that day, too. What else? Well, a couple little papers plus some group work. So of course I'm blowing it all off to write to all of you.
Before we get to the few things I actually have seen, how about a look at some of the wild stuff I've missed. The Loud Family played at Maxwells on a Sunday night (Nov. 6th), promoting their latest disc (which I haven't seen yet), but I spent 6-7 hours doing geometry homework that night. The scary thing is, I'm actually starting to enjoy some of these damn proofs... Dick Dale was all over... I missed the Friday night show he played at the end of October up in Port Chester, NY with The Friggs. That one would've been great. 7 Willow isn't bad (tho' Mike Sin will probably beg to differ, based on a bad parking experience - I think - there back in '88 when The Secret Service played) and I always liked Port Chester treks... The next Friday he played Maxwells. I gave away tix on the air to this one, bumming that I couldn't score a freebie, myself. Then ex-roomie Andy-the-Soundguy told me he'd put me and Roberta on the 'pestlist'. Meanwhile my alternator went. Roberta didn't feel like driving up 'cuz we were both incredibly beat, so we went out to dinner to celebrate her finding a job. I had venison for what I thought was the first time in my life. Until the next day my mother told me that I'd had it as a kid... she'd just told my brothers and I it was steak. Thanks, Mom. Mr. Dale played the next night at Irving Plaza, but I'm a poor student, folks, and $17.50 is a bit much, especially when you throw in over $10 in gas and tolls... Back when The Woggles were in town, they'd informed us of their Beefstock fest, held the first weekend in November down in Athens, GA at guitar-guy George's Atomic Music Hall. Roberta and I had contemplated making the trip, but as the date loomed larger on our event horizon, it became readily apparent that it was yet another No-Go. Too bad, too, 'cuz this 'un featured the wild and woolly Woggle hosts, plus Dexter Romweber, The Oblivians, The Insomniacs, The Hatebombs, and more. But, like I said, in keeping with my lackluster lifestyle of late, I didn't make it down... Friday the 11th, JT of The Original Sins called me up to tell me a couple gigs they had this weekend. Well, after a long day desperately trying to write my danged paper, I wasn't up for driving out to Bethlehem alone. Why alone? Well, Roberta's job is up in Paterson, about 70 minutes each way each day. Today had involved even more driving around, so she wasn't about to get in a car again. And I wouldn't have made it alone. That's when we rented Boxing Helena and Serial Mom. JT also told me about a dynamite party goin' on in Philly the next night - The Original Sins were playing it along with The Swingin' Neckbreakers (who said Philly was worthless?). This time, though, I had a non-academic excuse: my old pal Bill Jones' bachelor party. We saw Letha Weapons. Don't ask. Or do... And, tonight, as I write, I'm missing one of the NYC-metro area's best groups, The Insomniacs, playing at Maxwells with The Loved Ones. Theoretically, I could probably make this one. But it really would be smarter if I stayed home and did some of this damned schoolwork. And the distance/gas-&-toll factor definitely pushes the decision in the wrong direction on a Sunday night. Woe is me... In the next couple weeks I expect to miss:
(a) The Cramps at The Academy on November 25th,
(b) The Friggs and more at Brownies the same night
(c) Man or Astroman?, The Woggles, The Smugglers,
The Cowslingers, The Subsonics, The Makers, and tons more at the big fest down Alabama way that weekend.
OK, which did you pick? That's RIGHT... all of the above. Welcome to Dullsville.
On to my rather slim pickins.
Basically it comes down to a couple weekends in a row at the Mercury Lounge. Actually, Saturday October 22nd, a couple of us started things off with a stop at Brownies to check out The Nines, featuring ex-Voodoo Dolls' Evan Shore and Dave Harrison. They did a fair amount of old V.D. stuff, but it just wasn't the same. The missing element is Cam Ackland's vocals. The rhythm section is at least as strong as any the V. Dolls ever had, and Evan & Dave's guitars still slam their way thru a song the same way... but Cam had that extra-special something in his voice. But if you're willing to forget about comparisons, then these guys (and gal) are pretty good. Powerful... some good melodies... pretty cool rockinroll. Check out their debut 45 on Stanton Park, "Crawl In A Hole"/"Writing On The Wall" for a sample.
Onward Ho. Down Avenue A to Houston and the Mercury Lounge. Good timing. The Swingin' Neckbreakers are within minutes of comin' on. While I wasn't completely impressed with the club's sound system (at times it just didn't feel like I was bein' whomped over the head by the Swingin' Sonic Boom... so I moved up front and took the sound straight up), the guys were way out on top. And everyone knew it. One friend said she thought it was the best she's ever seen them. Also in the house that night was Mace, Steve Mace, ex-Untamed Youth bass guy. We got to talkin' before the encore and he said, "You don't know how lucky you are living in a place where you can see a band like this all the time." And he was right.
Actually, my next trip to the Mercury was the following Friday, for the monthly meeting of the Empire State Soul Club. Probably one of the best ones I've been to in ages. Just the right sized crowd and a bunch of old friends in attendance, including Neala O'Rourke in from SF and Raunch Hand mouth-man Mike Chandler, only two weeks back from a long stint living in Europe.
Saturday the 29th, Roberta and I decided to meet my brother Glenn and his gal-pal Julie for some food before continuing on with the night's festivities. After ending up at Julie's an hour late (mainly 'cuz of traffic), we searched for a place to park in the West Village. Big mistake, thought I, but kept driving. Then we gave up and went east. I finally get a parking spot and someone asks me to move my car up a bit so they can squeeze in. Uh... OK.... No Dice. Once turned off, the BlairBuggy decided not to go Vroom-Vroom again. Not exactly something to make me happy. After finding 30-minute waits at various worthy eateries, we decided to stick with Katz's deli. Simplicity. After that we checked the car again. It started. At which point one asks whether to take the money and run or go for what's behind door number two. We went for door number two... and headed over to the Mercury Lounge to catch The Friggs. And damned if they didn't do a fantastic show. This bunch keeps getting better. New drummer Kami is a major asset, beating the skins into blissful submission. Better yet... my brother liked them! This is a fairly rare occurrence - for Glenn and I to agree about some of the bands I see. Julie even put herself on their mailing list. Jezebel was in her element, too, ruling the stage. "I'm The Queen", indeed. There was a new one in the set, too. I can't remember the name, but YEAH! it was a winner. And Lisa takin' over the lead vox for "On The Scene", with its DC Five/Kinks Kool. Plus old faves like "Bad Word" and "Cheatin' Song". Geez, come to think of it, not a bad apple in the bag. Hope there'll be a new record soon.
Can you believe I got this much mileage out of three shows?
WHAT GOES ON
Well, by the time you'll be readin' this, the dust will be settling on the latest two AfterShocks - The Rockin' City Shakin' over Turkey Day weekend in Tuscaloosa and the aforementioned Beefstock in Athens, GA... As I write, The Smugglers are out on the road, going from their Vancouver homes down through the West Coast, through Texas and into the Southland, back thru the SouthWest and up the West Coast again. This tour sees Bum's Graham Watson taking Bryce's place behind the kit (Bryce, like me, is busy with school-type stuff). Amongst the groups Dos Schmugs will be tag-teaming with are The Rip-Offs, The Crying Out Louds, Man or AstroMan?, The Cowslingers, The Drags, The Evil Eyes, and The Ne'er Do Wells. Now that's a tour! The boys also have some new/soon to come out stuff. First is the "Whiplash" 45, on 1+2 out of Japan. Next is "Talkin' Bout You"/"Chimo" on Germany's Pin-Up label. Plus songs on comps by Nardwuar, Top Drawer, KOGA (Japan), and Flipside's RAFR Records. Various Smugglers are also busy with other groups: Nick played guitar with Bum this summer. He also plays drums and sings for The Tonics (formerly The Mary Janes). They've done some recording, so look for it. Beez' has a "nouveau-pop" group called The Beauticians; they've just put out their debut 7-incher. And Dave's "nordic-metal" group Thorsen are almost ready with their debut disc. And don't forget Dave's participation in Nardwuar's own Evaporators (they'll have lots of stuff for you on 8-track)... Also Out Of Their Tree for a swing down the West Coast and then on to scope out the Southern Gals are The Makers. Like The Smugglers, these guys will come no closer to the NorthEast than Tennessee (also over Thanksgiving Weekend). I can't make it, maybe you can. Besides their current Devil's Nine Questions instro 10"/CD, they've got a few new 45s out. One, a split with Magnitude 3 on Sympathy, I should be reviewing next ish. The other two, on Get Hip and Rip Off, I've yet to find. Also on deck are seven-inchers on Rat City and Dionysus, plus a cut, "Jerome Green", on the latest 3X7" box set Estrus is working on, the Estrus Cocktail Companion. And of course yet another LP, All Night Riot, also on Estrus... The latest rock'n'roll combo in NYC is The Gnats. I missed their debut show with The Vacant Lot back in September due to a previous commitment (one that I was quite psyched, by the way, to be a part of), but I'm hoping to be front and center next time around. From what I hear, their trip up to Portland, Maine in early November (yeah, another thing I missed!) was pretty wild. To be honest, I've yet to hear these guys, but they're good pals and all have excellent taste in music. Plus with ex-members of The Talismen, The Double Naught Spys, and The Hellcats From Outer Space, how could they go wrong? They hit the studio in December... Final note: Eric Fusco informs me that The Muffs' second disc is due in March.
OK... enough of this. I've gotta go eat Turkey and belated B-day cake. (Speaking of which, Roberta gets mega-points... how many girlfriends would consent to paying for their guy's Estrus Mail Order as a birthday offering?) See ya soon. May you be as stuffed as yonder dead turkey.
