THE TEEN SCENE
Issue #56
Completion Date:  11/23/96
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***********This issue is dedicated to the memory of Wendy Wild.************
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DIRECTORY OF SERVICES
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WHO DID WHAT - who we are and what we do
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BUSINESS STUFF - our address, the usual crap about back issues,
copyright, ads, blah-blah-blah
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INTRO - I run on about my life, my universe, my everything.
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VOTE, YOU DOPES! - Larry Grogan's call to get out the vote, with some
words of wisdom thrown in.
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A LETTER - Bill Jones asks about my attitude towards The Sex Pistols.  I
respond.
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CHAS CHANDLER, R.I.P. - Animals bass player Chas Chandler passed
away this summer
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SCENES FROM THE CRAP-OUT - Impressions from various attendees
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HE'S THE HUSTLER - Uncle Bob chats with the Royal Pendletons
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TREBLE-FEST '96 - Whatta weekend!  A true Rocky Mountain High
(sorry, couldn't help the pun)
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NEKO LOVES TO ROCK'N'ROLL - Kondrak in Calgary, corners Maow
for an interview and... here 'tis
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SLEAZEFEST THE THIRD - I couldn't go, but a couple friends did.
Here's what they had to say
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STUFF THAT SUCKS - My car got towed in Brooklyn, now you get the
penultimate joy of reading about it
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GOOD FRIENDS - This probably sounds all mealy-mouthed, but it
needed to be written
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THE SPLASH 4 - Here's the scoop on one of France's coolest bunch of
garage-punk misfits
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PRINTED MATTER - I don't expect my readers to commit to our
relationship; I expect they want to experience the decadent joys presented
by other editors, as well.
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LIVE! - Much as I love records and stuff, my biggest thrill will always
come from a good live show
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KEEPERS NOT COASTERS - Compact disc thingies that are worth not
only listening to, but owning
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ALL TOGETHER NOW - Compilations and anthologies of various sorts
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SWINGIN' SINGLES - I thought I'd avoid such an obvious banner, but I
don't much feel like being clever right now
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VINYL DELIGHTS - not too many, I'm afraid, so we've stuck the tens and
twelves together.
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TOMORROW'S YESTERDAYS TODAY - The Platterpuss returns after a
long absence to hip us to some cool new reissues
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MORE MUSIC FOR YOUR LISTENING PLEASURE - even more reviews
to make your life that much easier
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A POX ON THEM - we took Northwest Airlines out to Colorado and had
a *hell* trip back
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ALL THE NEWS THAT FITS - Just what it says
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AURAL PLEASURES FOUND AT THESE LOCATIONS - Can't find all
the good stuff talked about in the rest of the mag?  Well, in that case, just
write to these addresses, 'cuz they're the ones who put the stuff out in the
first place.
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WFUN DJ PICKS   - The staff tells you what's making them  jump and
dance

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WHO DID WHAT

Blair Buscareno - everything nobody else did
Larry Grogan - tells you to vote, and remembers Chas Chandler
Bob Kondrak - interviews & photos
Lisa Furlong - Sleazefest part one
Eric Fusco - Sleazefest part two
The Platterpuss - re-issues'n'stuff
Andrea Lauritzen - TrebleFest photo page shots
Phil Lerman - scans of Andrea's shots
Chris Hedlund - more Treblefest photos
Kopper - yet more Treblefest photos
Roberta Schiffer - den mother
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BUSINESS STUFF

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Address:
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Write us at:
34 Highland Cross #2
Rutherford, NJ  07070

or

[email protected]
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Ad Rates
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We only accept ads from people we believe in, so make sure you check
with us first.  But our current rates are:

1/4 page - $20
1/2 page - $35
Full page - $65

Checks get made out to Blair Buscareno.

Ads are only run in the print version, but advertisers *are* mentioned in
the e-mail text-only version, as well as in the upcoming WWW format.
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Thanks Go Out To This Issue's Advertisers:
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Norton Records (http://members.aol.com/nortonrec/norton.html)
360 Twist Records (http://members.aol.com/chimp79/360twist.htm)
Dionysus Records (http://www.indieweb.com/dionysus/)

Vinyl Injections (http://www.tiac.net/users/aheller/
vinyl_injections.html)
Estrus Records (http://www.duc.auburn.edu/~ratlimc/Estrus.html)

RPM Records (mailto:  [email protected])
Audities Magazine (http://www.audities.com)
The Saturn Five

Little One Inch Button Company

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Back Issues
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       Since I've got the originals to every issue, I can still go out and
make copies of just about any issue you might want.  Personally, I'd prefer
you didn't go below #30 or so, 'cuz I find some of these things to be an
embarrassment, but the choice is yours.  Unlike other 'zines, though, I'm
not gonna go thru a huge list of what's in each one.  This mag has come a
long way in the past five years, though I'd say we've stayed pretty true to
the same sort of music we started with.  (Ish #1 began with a review of
The Gories trip to NYC with go-go gal Margaret going all out...  but if you
wanna know what I'm talkin' about, you're gonna hafta send some long
green.)  So here's the deal (all prices include postage, but please include a
self-addressed envelope):
#1 - #21:  $1 for two issues.  Pick of this litter is #17 (Dec., '91), with a
preview of The Mummies' first East Coast visit.  #11 (June, '91) includes
my first taste of Estrus Crust.
#22 - #34: $2 for three issues.  A rant about CBGB's bullshit (#26); review
of Iggy at Continental (#30); story on Nardwuar (#31); and a DMZ
reunion at The Rat (#34).
#35 - #46:  $3 for four issues.  The Muffs & The Real Kids (#35); The
Swingin' Neckbreakers (#37); Eric tells a whopper & gets away with it
(#38); Joan Jett at Maxwells (#39); The Spectors (#40); The Dictators at
CBGB's (#42); Man or Astro-man? (#44); Bluesman vs. Blair or Southern
Culture on the Skids Live (#46).
#47/48 - #51: $3 for two issues  (or $1, plus 55 cents postage for one).
GarageShock, '94 (#47/48 - I thought this was a double issue at the time,
but...); the end of The A-Bones (#49), story/review of the Fuck The
Mummies CD (#50); year-end review, '94 (#51).
#52:  $2, a whopping 22 pages!  Featured is an interview with The Boys
Who Make All The Noise - Fortune & Maltese.  Also read about The
Scientists one-off reunion in Perth, what's up in the CA garage-Mod scene,
trip thru 80s San Diego, & hang with the Platterpuss.
#53: $2.50, 32 pp. GarageShock, '95, The Texas Speed Trials, The Untamed
Youth, The Makers, The Muffs, The Kaisers, and tons more.
#54: $3 - at 44 pages, it's the longest (and best) of everything up to this
point.  Interviews with The Statics & Darin Lin Wood, plus a report of The
Muffs, Queers, Cub tour of summer, '95.
#55: $3 + 2 stamps - once again, the page barrier is broken; this time it was
54!  Interviews with The Drags, Alex Cuervo, & Teengenerate.  Articles on
the Greek Scene, Radio Birdman live,  Jeffrey Lee Pierce R.I.P., Ray Davies
live and much more.
       The Teen Scene is also available in text-only e-mail form F.O.C.
("That's Free Of Charge.")  To get it this way, e-mail me. Or try
ftp.etext.org/pub/Zines/TeenScene
       The Teen  Scene is copyright 1996, Blair Buscareno.  The rights on
all writing and pics are property of the authors & photographers.  Any
recordings found inside are provided courtesy of the bands and the record
labels.  If you'd like to pass the Teen Scene on to a friend, feel free,
just tell
'em where you got it and give them the whole thing, not just some little
piece.  If you'd like to include any writings published in this mag for your
own publication, just be sure you give credit to both the Teen Scene & the
author of the piece.  And send me a copy.
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INTRO
       I don't think I ever realized how short a day could really be until I
had a summer off.  From the first day off, I've been working my butt off
on various projects.  I started off finishing the writing and editing on TS
#55 (that's one week down), then another week and a half laying out and
printing the thing.  After that, I realized that I've gotta try and work out a
schedule for this damn mag.  So I'm starting this ish early, trying to do it
piece by piece.  And I'm writing it in Quark XPress instead of in a normal
word processor so I don't have to go through the hassle of importing text
(and I get a better idea of where each section needs to end.)  Thanks to
Pete Ciccone for that suggestion (and a whole bunch more, but you'll read
more about that later.)
       My summer days usually started early, when Roberta left for work
(between 6:30 and 7:30 each day)... well, OK, I'd sleep a bit more about
half the time, but I only got up later than eight on mornings after late
nights out.  First stop was answering e-mail.  Then on to alt.music.banana-
truffle.  By that time, the first load of laundry was usually ready to leave
the washing machine and enter the dryer and I could take a shower and
get into the day, be it writing more for the mag or working on one of my
other projects (learning Visual Basic, doing a Web page, or starting on my
study of Java.)  And, of course, I'd get in at least an hour or so of reading
each day.  Plus the household stuff, like cleaning a bit, shopping, cooking,
etc.  (I figured it was the least I could do for Roberta if I was going to be
home and she was at work.)  It was just a constant source of amazement
each day when I'd realize that the afternoon was just about over... Which
reminds me, I've gotta go start dinner.
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       August was the wind-down month.  It was hard not to realize that
my summer was disappearing, but fast.  Somehow that made me spend
more time reading, maybe 'cuz  I know I'll do much less of that once the
schoolyear begins.  On the positive side, I finished up the Teen Scene web
page (kinda).  And, I got to see The Muffs a few nights in a row.  (See the
live reviews.)
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       Now I'm writing on the last day of August, getting psyched to see
The Makers play their first-ever NYC date (yeah, look at the live reviews
for that one.)  After today, there's only two more days left in my summer
vacation.  I spent  couple days this week in my classrooms, working on
getting them ready.  I think that'll help soften the blow of getting back.
       It's funny, as a kid, I never really thought about how going back to
school after a long summer affected the teachers.  Now I'm a teacher, and I
feel pretty bummed.  It's been absolutely  great spending this time
working on my own projects at my own pace.  Still and all, I feel
extremely lucky to be a teacher.  It's a great job, even if society doesn't
value teachers nearly as highly as we deserve (and, yes, I thought this
before I started teaching, too.)  This is the only job I've ever done that I
both enjoyed and felt I was doing something worthwhile.  Like I said,
society doesn't do much more than pay lip service to education, but you
can tell when you've had an effect... and that's a damn good feeling.
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       OK... it is now over a month after that last bit.  I've just received the
last article from someone else that I'm gonna print this ish and I figure it's
one I ought to say a word about myself.  Look to your right and you'll
notice something that looks downright political.  Well... uh, it is.
Honestly, when I started doing this mag six years ago, politics was one
thing I never wanted to spend any ink on.  Well, since then, it's become
appallingly obvious that, if I want anything to change, I should at least
some small part. And since this is an election year... and the election's
drawing near, I've asked Larry Grogan to help me out.  Thanks, Larry.
(OK, this didn't come out in time, but it's STILL important!)
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VOTE, YOU DOPES

       The esteemed editor of this zine thought it might be apropos, on the
eve of the presidential election if I stepped in and added a dash of politics
to the Teen Scene stew.  I'm here to try to get you to vote. Those of you
that can't stomach a civics lesson with your Fortune & Maltese, step aside
and let those of us that give a shit about our future (let alone that of the
country) have our say.   Here in a country where decisions and choices are
often boiled down to the difference between regular potato chips and the
new, extra, super crunchy kettle cooked chips, the idea of taking time to
choose between two (or more) candidates that you are constantly being
told are exactly alike (which is of course untrue) might seem like an awful
waste of your precious time. This is of course a load of crap.
       From my fairly enlightened, extremely liberal point of view, there is
only one choice, that being the Clinton/Gore ticket. Here's why.  They're
NOT Republicans.  And that, in a nutshell is IT. Clinton may be the most
conservative Democrat to hold the nation's highest office in ages,
however, he is not engaged in anything as hardcore proto-fascist as the
Republican Party and their many unpleasant pals.
       Here's why the Republicans suck, and therefore must be kept out of
the White House. Don't be fooled by the polls, the Republicans would like
you to believe that Clinton is a sure thing so you'll pass on voting and
watch the election on TV, with a face full of scooter pies.  They are the
biggest bunch of no good, busy body, Bible beating, tight-assed, fascist a-
holes on this planet. Sit out this election and kiss your freedom goodbye.
What freedom is that, you ask?
A)      THE RIGHT TO COLLECTIVE BARGAINING (i.e.                union
organizing for better working conditions.)
B)      A WOMAN'S RIGHT TO REPRODUCTIVE SELF
DETERMINATION (i.e. access to abortion and birth control)
C)      THE RIGHT TO READ, WRITE, WATCH AND LISTEN TO
WHATEVER YOU WANT.
That's right friends. If the Republicans get into office again, we are all
doomed. These are the people that find sexual intercourse and pot
smoking offensive. These are also the people that think it should be easy
to get a gun but impossible to get an abortion.
       On the often raised issue of taxation, might I take the time to
remind those of you that haven't moved into a survivalist bunker yet, that
your taxes pay for the function of the government. You want teachers,
cops, firemen, EMT's, etc? You gotta pay taxes, pal. You want highways,
national parks, unemployment insurance, Social Security etc.? You gotta
pay taxes.
      The people that are making all the noise about taxation are the people
that presently don't pay nearly enough. These are the people (GM, ADM,
Dow, Fed Ex and on and on...) who think that running a company that
employs people allows them to avoid paying taxes on the money they
make. Greedy suckholes to the last.
       So, in conclusion, if you believe that Bill Clinton is a bad guy
because he smoked a joint or two, or if you hate his guts because you
think he's been sexually active in the last 50 years (and you just know Bob
Dole hasn't had 'Little Bob' out since Lee surrendered at Appomattox)
then you're voting Republican (or GOD FORBID for that insane little man
Ross Perot). However, if you were going to sit out the election, and waste
your vote because you think it doesn't matter who's President, then take
my words to heart, and get thee to a voting booth. If you don't, you'll have
to watch Pat Boone at Maxwell's and visit the Swinging Neckbreakers in
prison.
       OK??? --- LG
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A LETTER

Dear Teen Scene:
       You have often expressed your distaste for Johnny Rotten and the
Sex Pistols.  You seem to get especially bothered by suggestions that they
changed the rock and roll world and made a positive, lasting impact.
Could you explain this attitude and how do you feel things would be
different if the Pistols hadn't been created by Malcolm MacLaren?  Would
the Ramones instead have developed into the most (in)famous punk band
around?
       A faithful reader,
       Bill Jones

Bill:
       I'd have to check all the old issues, but I wasn't aware that I'd gone
out of my way to express distaste for The Sex Pistols.  On the contrary, I
like them.  In addition, I've never contested the claim that they've made a
lasting impact.  Is it a positive one?  Well, for the most part, I'd say it
is.
I've never had a problem with the anti-establishment stance they took.
And I certainly can't argue that they've influenced a number of good
bands.  Not only that, but they wrote some really great songs.
       Did they "change the rock and roll world?"  I'm not sure.  It
obviously didn't happen overnight.  Hell, punk rock didn't come
anywhere close to the mainstream for at least 13 years after the Pistols
broke up.  But most change takes a while, doesn't it?
       No, my argument with The Sex Pistols is not a matter of distaste.
It's not even a matter of their impact on music and society.  In fact, my
argument isn't really with The Sex Pistols at all.  Instead, I have a problem
with the people who say that The Sex Pistols begat punk.  That's just
completely false.  We'll skip The Velvet Underground for now, along with
The MC5, The Stooges, The Modern Lovers, and the NY Dolls, all of
whom can lay a claim to being punk in some way.  I'll be satisfied with
words like "proto-punk" to describe all of those.  But to say The Pistols
invented punk completely ignores The Ramones, as well as a number of
other NY groups, who were doing their thing on the Bowery quite some
time before Malcolm Maclaren put the little English boys together in his
playpen.
       I also can't help but be annoyed by the recognition The Sex Pistols
received for many of their publicity stunts.  Firstly, The Rolling Stones had
done some of their own hellraising back in the mid-60s.  Closer to home,
though, Malcolm Maclaren saw many of the Pistols gimmicks pulled the
first time around when he was involved in the NY Dolls management.
Thing is, with the Dolls, throwing up on reporters wasn't some sort of put-
on; it was just the result of their lifestyle.
       So, while I won't argue that the Sex Pistols had a lasting impact,
wrote great songs, and will forever be the world's most famous punk
group, I will forever be upset with the assertion/belief that they invented
punk.  Now, to my knowledge and (if it's true) to their credit, they've
never claimed to have invented punk rock.  My argument, therefore, is not
with the band itself, but with those who put forth that proposition.
       Now, as to Johnny Snotty, himself.  My only big complaint with the
guy is that I read an article where he put down his bandmates.  I think
that's crap.
       How would things be different if Malcolm Maclaren hadn't
invented the Pistols?  Good question.  Maybe the Clash would've risen to
the forefront of the English scene.  They still would've seen The Ramones
and gotten up the balls to go out and play shows themselves.
       Would The Ramones have taken the Pistols' place in the annals of
punk history?  Somehow I don't think so.  At least, not without a radically
different world.  The Ramones, if you think about it, are not all that much
of a shock to the system.  They really didn't do anything drastic - they just
took the music they grew up with (60s pop) and sped it up.  Many of my
friends have often said The Ramones were just a fast-paced version of The
Beach Boys (tho' they obviously don't have the vocal harmonies).  No, I'd
say that the American punk outfit that came closest to the Sex Pistols was
(obviously) The Dead Boys.  The only other group I think might've had a
chance at that kind of notoriety was Johnny Thunders & The
Heartbreakers, mainly 'cuz of their sloppy style.  But I think they might've
been disqualified, too, just because their music, like that of The Ramones,
really was strongly anchored in an older form of rock'n'roll.  The
Heartbreakers, according to various sources, were, at first, hard for the
English crowd to understand.  Eventually, though, the English fans took
them into their hearts.
       The more I think about it, the more I believe The Sex Pistols were
necessary.  I'm not sure punk could have dealt as drastic a blow without
them (or somebody like them.)  As much as I love The Clash, I don't feel
they could have ever done quite so thorough a job of shocking society.
Perhaps The Dead Boys might have, had they been in England, but... they
weren't.    Besides, to me at least, they've always left the impression that
they really were just a bunch of guys having a wild time, rather than
trying to piss off the Queen.  Basically, what I'm saying is that The Sex
Pistols did make an impact.  They just didn't invent punk rock.
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CHAS CHANDLER, R.I.P

       It wasn't that long ago that the distinguished publisher of this very
zine alerted me to the fact that the great Chas Chandler had shaken loose
this mortal coil and passed on into the void.
       I suppose it's only fair to admit that previous to this time I hadn't
really given old Chas a lot of thought. To me, he was more of a visual icon
than musical presence. In any number of grainy video clips, there he
stood, like some monstrous wooden indian towering over the elfin Eric
Burdon, joining John Steele in providing the Animals with a solid bottom.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that my
ambivalence toward Chas Chandler was rooted in an ambivalence about
the Animals.
       There's an irony in this, as the Animals were the first British
Invasion group outside of the Beatles and the Stones that I bought a record
by. Although I had already heard (and fallen in love with) 'House Of The
Rising Sun', my real interest in the Animals arose from an unusual source.
       It was one of those days when all the teenage chicanery I could
muster actually succeeded in convincing my parents that I was indeed too
sick to attend school. As such success was truly a rare event, I decided to
make the most of my day off by spending it on the couch, in my pajamas,
eating Captain Crunch (a rare delicacy in its own right) right out of the
box, caring not a whit what might pass from my hand into the cereal
bowls of others. On this particular day, I had elected to watch PBS. This of
course being more than 20 years ago, PBS was still a bastion of Swedish
furniture buying, espresso drinking, art-appreciating left wing
intellectualism, which, much to my delight spent most of their afternoons
showing foreign films. On this particular day, they were broadcasting
some groovy, mid-60's black and white French flick about teenagers (the
title of which has been lost to the ages). The plot was sufficiently Euro-
cool, until a scene in which several teens gathered in the bedroom of one
of their friends to play records. Expecting to hear some lame Froggy
approximation of rock and roll (no doubt the hit of the local Discotheque-
au-go-go......) I was stunned to hear coming from Le Close et Play, a truly
remarkable tune. The guitars rang, the bass throbbed and the chorus was
anthemic. It was one of those all too rare musical epiphanies.
       Too bad for me I had no idea who it was, the identity of the group
somehow unimportant in comparison to the existential dilemmas of this
band of happy go lucky, beret wearing, onion soup sucking teens.# I was
stymied. For weeks that song ricocheted around in my head (god only
knows there was plenty of room), nameless, faceless shattering what little
concentration my hormone ravaged adolescent mind  could muster. Until,
that is, I heard the song again.
       One of the jocks on the local oldies station played it, and I clung to
the radio, praying that they'd have the good taste to in fact announce the
name of the song and the band. Wasn't I surprised when I found out the
tune was 'It's My Life' and the band was the Animals. The next two weeks
were occupied in as intense a search that my jobless/carless life would
allow. Eventually I scored a cheesy, Abcko, Best Of The Animals at a local
Music Den (remember those?). I played 'It's My Life' over, and over, and
over again. Man.....what a great song. When I finally found my way
around the rest of the record, I was dismayed that very few of the other
songs were as poppy and riff heavy as the song that made me buy the
disc.
       Unfortunately, the Animal's particular brand of R&B was a little
too raw for my Beatles-obsessed ears, and for many years that's the way
things stayed. When I finally came around to British R&B (about ten years
later), the Animals Mickey Most-neutered sound were a little on the weak
side in comparison with the Pretty Things and the Birds. To this day I'm
almost ashamed to admit that in spite of the fact that 'It's My Life' and
'House of the Rising Sun' are still among my favorite British Invasion
records, the Animals as a band dwell far from the# top of my list.
       So how does this come around to being a tribute to Chas Chandler?
Well my friends, unlike many of his contemporaries, old Chas (Bryan to
his mum) made something of himself after the dissolution of his band.
While any number of Hermits, Tremeloes, and Dreamers were wandering
Picadilly Circus panhandling for spare shillings, Chas Chandler had other
things in mind.
       After Eric Burdon's almost total assumption of the 'Animals'
identity in 1966, Chandler stepped aside to begin a career as manager
(including his former group), talent scout and record producer. It was on a
trip to the States that Chas found the act that was to bring him artistic
fulfillment, untold thousands of pounds sterling, and my eternal
gratitude. The act I speak of was no#ne other than Jimi Hendrix.
Chandler, tipped off by Keith Richards' girlfriend Linda Keith, checked
out Hendrix at a club in Greenwich Village. Suitably impressed, he
brought Hendrix back to the UK and oversaw the formation of the Jimi
Hendrix Experience. To make make an already long story shorter than it
might be, Chas, in his management of the group, and in the production of
their landmark debut 'Are You Experienced' brought the Jimi Hendrix
Experience to the attention of the record buying public. . From 1966 until
Chandler sold his management share in the JHE in October of 1968, he
helped to guide one of the great bands of the 60's. Not long after parting
with Hendrix, Chas Chandler discovered Slade. For this, because
nobody's perfect, he will surely be forgiven.  -- LG
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SCENES FROM THE CRAP-OUT

       ***I really wanted to go to ALL three of this summer's garage wind-
dings.  Unfortunately, I just didn't have the cash.  I thought I'd at least be
able to catch both TrebleFest & SleazeFest, but... well, I guess I just didn't
realize how much money I was going to spend out in Colorado.  Still, I
thought this ish should manage - somehow - to cover all three of these
events.  I thought about asking Mike Sin of The Insomniacs to write an
article on the Vegas thing for me, but we talked it over and he seemed to
feel a little uneasy about reviewing something his band had played at.  So,
upon seeing one or two reviews of the Crapout on alt.music.banana-
truffle, I decided to ask the gang for brief impressions, which I'd then
publish together in this ish.  Now, I was expecting to get at least seven or
eight, but various folks never quite got back to me.  (You KNOW who you
are!)  Seriously, though, that's OK.  I understand completely.  (Foster
Child's Tony Miller asked me for an Insomniacs article at the end of June.
It's due next week - September 21st - and I haven't even done anything
more than tell Mike Sin that we should sit down for a chat.)
       So, here then are the few responses I actually DID get.  I know it's
not a complete picture, but maybe if you put the snaps together fast
enough, you'll get some idea.***

*rob #2*
       First, I thought The Statics were the best band of the whole Vegas
deal. I mean I was rockin' out so hard my head almost fell off.  And what a
couple of nice fellas, too.  Right up there with The Statics were The
Hentchmen. That was the 15th night in a row that I saw them and  they
just keep getting better and better. I even got to smash some maraccas on
stage with them!  Oh yeah, and The Drags were the best I ever saw them. I
think Keith Drag is an amazing drummer; is he shooting for some kind of
land speed record? Well, Statics, Hentchmen and Drags -  that pretty
much sums it up for me.

*From Ms. Marylou Santos...*
       The Vegas trip was killer.  The bands were so on.  The first night
was fun and the Oblivians blew everyone else away.  The Hentchmen and
Pendletons were great, but they were no match for the boys from
Memphis.  They kicked everyone's ass.  I'd never seen them before and
they almost made me want to go back home so I could catch them in LA
the next night.
       Friday night was more packed than the first night, and with good
reason.  The definite highlight for me was The Makers. These guys play so
tight that no one can compete.  Mike Maker walked on the crowd and they
basically rawked!!!  I stood there watching in awe.  The Infections were
also good.  I'd seen them at the Ripoff rumble and they weren't too
impressive, but a couple of months of practice did them some good. Fast
paced punk.  The Statics were cool but it didn't feel the same after seeing
them w/o Diane.  They didn't play the real old songs.  Cool nonetheless.
       The last night was a mix.  The Fells were cool, but they didn't think
they did a good set. I disagree, loud and fast!!!  The Drags were one of my
highlights.  CJ kept calling everyone babies.  So Vegas, so cool.  The Lord
High Fixers were amazing!!!!  These guys (and girl) have so much soul, it's
not even disputable!!!  The Cheater Slicks were cool, but no one really
watched them.
       Overall, Vegas was a rockin' good time.

*Bomp-lister Menachem Turchick...*
       Menachem Turchick here, wishing I were reporting to you live
from the Crap Out in Las Vegas instead of trying to recall details of the
concert two months later! Due to creeping senility, and the sad fact that
the majority of the bands I saw didn't make much of an impression on me,
I'll keep this report brief.
       I actually wanted to go to Treblefest.  Its line-up looked a lot better,
what with The Lyres, Thee Headcoats, et al, and anyway I'm getting sick
of the corrupting influence Estrus Records has on the U.S. garage scene.
Too many of these bands play an indistinguishable mishmash of trashy
Cramps-style rockabilly, Back From The Grave inspired 60s garage rock,
and the modern punk they were listening to a few years back when they
accidentally picked up a Mummies 45 and rushed out to buy Buddy Holly
glasses, bowling shirts and Mexican wrestling masks. For me, that pure
1966 sound doesn't need any updating or cross-genre watering down.
What it DOES need, aside from the proverbial three chords and a lot of
energy, is an appreciation on the part of the musicians trying to reproduce
it for the way musical instruments actually sounded back then (at least
when recorded).  I get the feeling the typical Estrus band (there are many
exceptions, of course) discovered garage rock by listening to their
contemporaries, instead of going back to the source.  The upshot of all this
being I only liked three of the ten bands I saw at the Crap Out (I missed
Thursday night, and The Hentchmen).
       All three of my faves played on Friday, so that night was pretty
enjoyable.  The Insomniacs, who I'm sure you readers are quite familiar
with, played a great set of punchy Anglophile mod/pop, and I
appreciated their use of such musical conceits as 'melody', otherwise
sorely lacking at the Crap Out.  I remember thinking that some of their
cover choices were inspired, though now I'm hazy as to what those were
(something off of Havoc From Holland - The Nichols' Lord, "I've Been
Thinking," maybe?).  Next to take the stage were The Bomboras, who
literally worked the crowd into a frenzy with their wild surf and garage
attack!  Perhaps realizing that instrumental surf bands are a dime a dozen
these days, The Bomboras worked hard to distinguish themselves from
the competition, with gimmicks like a stripping go-go dancer, silly string,
and a flaming organ. But it was when they added raving vocals to the mix
that they really hit their stride, and I remember thinking, THIS is what I
came here looking for!  Of course, Lord Hunt made an appearance during
the encore to belt out "The Crusher."  Finally, The Makers took the stage
and delivered their usual thuggish, cocky musical assault, having no
problem revving the crowd up again despite it being 2 AM.
A couple of the Saturday night bands had their moments, I guess.  The
Fells have improved dramatically since I last saw them, and finally seem
to fit into the 'garage' genre. The Drags hit the right notes occasionally, but
the lead singer's stage presence seemed calculated to annoy - after every
song he sneered "Thank you, babies."  Well, that's punk rock for ya. The
Mono Men? I skipped them entirely, and went over to The Horseshoe for
a bite, only to have the power fail and the casino temporarily shut down.
The main Saturday night highlight was the DJ, who provided a good mix
of tunes from Louisiana Punk, English Freakbeat, the new Fiends 10" (get
it!) and more, though by the end of the night he was playing them so loud
and distorted he drove everyone outside.
       See you next year at Treblefest!

*And, finally, from TS interviewer extraordinaire Bob Kondrak, we get the
following impressions:*
       The Lord High Fixers [were] revvin' up the crowd and the bouncers
started to gather on either side of the stage.  I was on stage left in back of
the speakers and saw a fan climb on stage from the sea of bodies.  The
bouncers came over and before the fan could be pitched Tim Kerr does a
back flip over Mike Maker and Ryan Busykid & lands backwards six deep
on the fans heads. Tim does this while playing his guitar, he's barefootin'...
Kerr was aware of the bouncers and had a look of glee as he did the
acrobatics... LHF- a hard act to follow..

>>      Did you enjoy the Insomniacs or are they not your style?<<
They suprised me to no end... quite my style..  And Crider was paying
close attention as they played.  We stood side by side and they played
through these customed Matchless amps Dave brought up from LA.. They
started off each of the early songs with some patter about being a 6ts
band... liked the way the guitar echoed in some songs a lot... they were
cool...
The heat wasted what attention span I had remaining after sucking half
pints of "10 High" and chasing those with $3 bottles of "Newcastle
Brown"..so groups that went on early caught more of my attention... I'd
heard that when the Bomboras played Seattle their stripper was tired and
leathery and I was surprised by the beauty of Spencer who danced in that
retro suit and flower chain..when she was topless and the organ player
had tipped over that spindly-legged Goodwill Farfisa, I was lickin' the
icing off the knife...
       ***Hopefully this broken glass approach to the Crap Out gave you
at least a little taste of the event.  Thanks to all who wrote.  Extra kudos to
Bob for sending the pics to spice things up.  Hopefully each of them gave
you those extra thousand words to help out.***
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
HE'S THE HUSTLER

       "A surf band from New Orleans.", says Ivy and hands me the sleeve
of the "Smokin'/Sheep Suit/Losing Hand/Royal Blood Part II" on
Goner(POB 40566 Memphis TN 38174-0566).Pictured are four, clean cut,
well-dressed young men with a hint of bad habits.  A strong influence of
plaid, even in a black and white rendering.  A recording with a live
session feeling, garage nuances and a tip of the hat to Link and Davie.
Vocals dipped in 35 year old Strychnine.  I think, "Come to Tacoma,
dudes, cheap rents and cheaper studio time at the vintage
Wiley/Griffith".Ivy couldn't make Vegas but wished me well and warned
me to look out for that pressure drop which flattens so many lustful
ambitions dreamed by aging members of the Brotherhood of the Bong.  I
promise to stay hydrated and horny at least till I get some interviews.
       The first night the barely legal blonde w/balloon breasts, a porno
queen,dubbed Davila Arcade is on-stage doing band intros and adding to
the hipster appeal.  I line up down front and snap my gator jaws while
King Louie arranges oversized skate boards and the official "RP" kick
drum.Then Hurtt plugs in his vintage Danelectro guitar, a signal to banish
the 3 chord lo-fi shit out to the chicken shack.  The band comes off way
better than I could have hoped from just that one listen last spring to the
record.  The set included a few of my fave regional rock'n'roll hits.  They
covered the Swinging Medallions, ? & The Mysterians and 5ts NW rock
made headway and elevated my hormone levels and teen angst to a stinky
full bloom.  They got high marks for including an Earl King number.  I
was digging the band look and the fashion expressions.Louie, up from
behind the drums to take lead vocals and center stage,keeping time with a
pair of maracas.  Hurtt jumps into the audience with a smile and a
showboat guitar solo.  The set comes off as up-tempo, fun,frat rock and
they look like a good party band.  They should be in full effect in mid-
August at Sleazefest, '96Later, I walk out for a breath of dry 100 degree
night air and spy Mr. Hurtt sitting with his back against the blue wall of
the club.It seems like a a good time for an interview so I ask and he begins
to speak..

Interview and pictures (C) 1996 Bob Kondrak M= Michael Hurtt

M - What did you say your name was again man?
B - My name is Bob, who's in your band?M - Louie Bankston on drums,
Jay Thomas Oliver on organ, I'm Michael Hurtt on guitar and vocals and
Matt Uhlman is on guitar and vocals as well.
B - How long has the band been together?
M - I always forget that, probably about three years.  Originally, I was ina
band before with Matt.  He and I are both from Indiana and I had wanted
to do this.  I had the idea for The Royal Pendletons, pendleton shirts and
the early 6ts.  The original idea was Wailers stuff mixed in with east L.A.
Cholo sounds.  The Midnighters and all that, with some surf and R&B
thrown in there.  I had the idea for this band, like frat rock type of stuff
and we did a show in Indiana with my brother and a couple of other guys
at a party.  I had written a song 'Pendleton Man', which we didn't play
tonight, but it will be on our album, and that song is dedicated to Cholos
in a way, the east L.A. guys.  The tradition is cool.  We are interested in
that thing even though if we ever meet anybody like that they will
probably blow our brains out.  The idea of those guys in the 7ts that had
short hair and are into doo wop and had their own ideas about things,
they stood outside society.  We wrote this song 'Pendleton Man', based
around that.  My brother and I put together the band, played at a party
and I always wanted Matt to be in it.  It wasn't totally my idea.We got
various members and it involved into what it is today.  We are satisfied
and not satisfied with it, the way anybody would be.  It's real hard to
write simple frat type songs, Kingsmen, Wailers type things.  I wish I
could write more things like that.
B - Have you heard that Telstar/Dionysus reish "East Side Sounds"?
M - I know what you are talking about.  I've seen it but have yet to buy it.
It has that song 'Strip My Oldsmobile' by The Romancers.  I have always
wanted to cover that song.  It's great.
B - I am interested in regional rock'n'roll and collect it.  I am glad to
find a
group like yours getting back into those sounds.
M - Regional stuff is what created rock'n'roll.  That's what made it so cool.
What sucks today is that the media and record companies have made no
room for that.  In the 5ts and 6ts it was possible for a band to form in a
town and have a hit on the radio and maybe have a shot at doing
something nationally, but it was a distinct sound.  Like in New Orleans
and Sugar Boy Crawford or Frankie Ford or any of those guys, Will
Mollet.There is so much great New Orleans R&B.  The garage stuff too, it
even goes into the white bands out in the country like The Boogie Kings.
Are you familiar with swamp pop?  Cookie and The Cupcakes, Johnny
Allen, that stuff is so cool, so raw and real.  Louisiana has a lot of regional
stuff and lots of other places, too, like Texas.  Stuff that Huey Meaux did;
the Sir Douglas Quintet is still great today.  The stuff Doug Sahm does is
so cool because he was totally into punk rock, 6ts punk rock, and he was
into swamp rock, that R&B stuff was what he started playing.  He's great
cause he will play all that shit in one set, country, New Orleans R&B,
Texas blues,13th Floor Elevators' stuff.  It's all the same to him.  The whole
regional thing is what I tap into.  Memphis has a certain sound, but it's
hard to say what that sound is.  The Northwest, if you listen to the guitar
player from The Wailers and Don & The Good times, The Kingsmen, they
all had a certain way of playing the guitar, choked like Johnny Guitar
Watson.They don't put the notes in the right place.  Millions of guys today
play what they call the blues; they just wail on those solos that go on
forever.  Back then they felt the beat and what they didn't play was as
important as what they did play.  Leave stuff out and it becomes more
exciting.
B - The audience was part of it as well so the band couldn't showboat too
much.  Have you all played around New Orleans?
M - We love to play frat parties, because in New Orleans, moreso than in
other parts of the country, like Indiana where I am from, frat guys up
there would not appreciate what we are doing, but in the south, it's asocial
difference between people.  People like us and people like them.In the
south, their parents grew up digging R&B and it has been passed down to
them and it seems from my limited experience, if we play a frat party in
N.O. people appreciate it just for the energy and for the R&B because they
have heard and recall the music.  They may not be enthusiasts, but today
if Doug Clark and The Hot Nuts play a frat party in N.O. they would go
over well.  If they played a frat party in Indiana people would go,"What
the fuck are these guys doing?"
B - Yeah a nice thing about the traditionalists in the south.
M - Yeah we played a party a while ago in Mississippi.  It was a couple of
guys who owned some restaurants and they gave a party for their
employees.These people had a ball, not your typical frat guys, they really
dug it. So down there they know a bit more about the roots of rock'n'roll.
In New Orleans we usually play at a couple of clubs that are pretty cool.
We are lucky we do pretty well in New Orleans.  If you go over well, it's a
stroke of good luck.  These days it doesn't matter if you're a good band or
not, nobody seems to care.  We're a street level band and we try to let
everyone know, hand out flyers.  A lot of times we will bring bands down
from other places and if people like us they get a chance to see them.
B - We have a band here in Seattle tapping into the same vein, a frat rock
take on surf.  For me, it's the band's personality and the act that makes the
music jump out.  You guys and those suits, the oversized skateboards and
the way you all jump around on stage.
M - Funny, we have been on tour for the last two weeks with The
Hentchmen.They are a great band, have records out, but keep saying,
"Nobody cares about us".  Which is true and I don't understand why.  I
would think that The Hentchmen would have a bigger name than they do;
I think they are not appreciated.  John tells me, "We don't have a gimmick
and that's the problem".  He gets pissed.  We play shows and no one will
come.  $60 per band.  I tell him that none of the bands on the tour have a
gimmick.  But so many garage bands today have a gimmick.  Man Or
Astroman have the spacesuits.  Makers have the "We want to kick your
ass".  But I tell John our gimmick is ourselves.  I don't want to talk bad
about anybody, but you see a lot of bands and sometimes gimmicks can
go too far cause it seems like they are making fun of the music.  Like Rev.
Horton Heat, a real popular band and I know lots of people who would go
to see them in a heartbeat,but then at Big Sandy or Dave & Deke, people
show up but not nearly enough.  Why?  Cause these other groups are
straight out there bein' themselves and doin' it.  It's 100% better than Heat
but..
B - But Heat has those songs, talkin' 'bout whores jackin' him off and songs
'bout smokin' dope.
M - Right and people like that, people like the gimmick.  We don't have a
gimmick, The Hentchmen and Impala don't, a lot of good bands don't
have a gimmick.  Like you said, if we have any at all, the gimmick is our
personalities.  I believe in letting that stand.  Let the musicianship stand,
not to say we are great musicians at all.  It is nice to see bands get out
there
and all dress the same, I think that's cool.  I'm not doggin' them.  That's
what's cool about a lot of these garage bands today,they are a little bit
more into the idea of rock'n'roll the way it was than as it is;  supposedly
rock'n'roll, it's not even that anymore.  We have pride and a lot of popular
bands get up there lookin' nasty.
B - You guys look real.
M - We dress well, but we are definitely raw.
B - You still have a clean well-presented sound.  Tonight you did a small
set of garage covers, Bobby Fuller, ? & The Mysterians and The Swinging
Medallions and you have that organ and are not afraid to use it in the
sound.  Many bands have one but don't want it to dominate the sound.
M - We do want the organ to dominate.  There are so many guitar bands
in the world.  The organ is such a great instrument that I want it to be up
front.  My guitar is too loud.
B - What are you playing?
M - That guitar?  I just bought that. I think it's a copy of a Danelectro
Longhorn.  I think somebody built it.  The neck is a Danelectro cause it has
32 frets.  The body is solid and Danelectros are hollow.  The body is a
remake but it is the same proportions and I have always loved those
guitars because of all the freedom you have to go all the way up the neck.I
found the thing in Tucson for $250 and it plays great.  The pickups are
new and they have a more controlled sound.  The old Danelectro pickups
are out of control and you never know what's coming out of it.  Today,
technology has come so far they can give you a pickup for any sound you
want.  I think someone built the guitar in the 6ts or 7ts.
B - I would like to know about your recordings cause the only thing I have
is that EP on Goner.
M - We have a new single out ("Guitar Crusher", Nobbler Records 915
Cole#385 SF CA 94117).  The guy who runs the label is into mountain
biking and is doing a movie about it.  He wanted instrumentals for the
soundtrack.That came out last week and then we have another single
coming out with4 bands on that.  It's us, Impala, Fortune & Maltese &The
Phabulous Pallbearers and some surf band from France, The Exotic
Unitones. Two instrumentals and two vocals. Our drummer is putting that
out on Splitsville Records in a couple of weeks. Then we have an album
coming out on Goner and that may come out this fall. That album will
feature songs we like, songs we play in our set. It will be from a couple of
different sessions to make it interesting. A few things to give people an
idea of what we are about - when you come to see us, this is what you get.
B - Got a title for it?
M - Might just be self titled.
B - Where did you record it at?
M - There were two recording sessions.  One with Ron Black, a New
Orleans friend of ours, at one of the clubs we play at called The Mermaid
Lounge.It's got a nice sound to it cause the club has real hard walls which
gives the recording an echo.  We also recorded a bunch of stuff over a year
ago with Alex Chilton in another club in town, live onto 4 track.  The stuff
Chilton did sounds real good.  We didn't like it at first but recently we
listened to it and liked it a lot.  When you try to make a record it is so hard
because you keep thinking about stuff you love and try to get this sound,
but unless you are a genius it's hard.  At some point you have to come to
terms and go with it.  You can spend the rest of your life trying to get the
sound right and it won't sound spontaneous.
B - How did you get on Goner Records?
M - Eric Oblivian has been a fan of our group from the beginning.  Me and
Matt went down to Memphis before we became The Pendletons and
played and every time we go back Eric is on the radio talkin' about us
comin' and half the time we didn't have a name.  He dug what we do and
it took forever to get that first record out for the reasons I was talkin'
about.We hooked up with him before The Oblivians were around.  He
came out to see us and really liked our band.  He had just started the label.
He putout the Guitar Wolf LP and wanted to put something out by us.
We wanted it to come out on Goner since these were the guys that
appreciated us from the beginning when nobody gave a fuck.  So we
wanted the first album to come out on that label.  There are a couple of
other labels that are interested, so we may have a bunch of records coming
out all at the same time.  We have been messin' around for so long.  The
problem today is that it's hard to find a studio you can record at that
sounds really good.
B - How about some of those legendary studios down in New Orleans?
M - There is a studio in Louisiana called Gold Band.  We wanted to record
there cause they recorded some great tracks in the 5ts, Zydeco,Rockabilly,
Country.  Guy Clark recorded his first stuff there when he was 15.
Amazing stuff, raw as hell, so cool.  The recording engineer is still alive,
he's 82.  So we went to check it out and the place is like a garage.  He has a
record shop, TV repair shop and he's still selling 78s on Goldband from
the 4ts for $5 a record. He still has all that old awesome shit.  We wanted
to record there, but the thing is, he wants to stay ahead of his time.  Back
when he recorded the good stuff, he didn't have the equipment to sound
great, so he thought it sounded crappy, but we thought it sounded cool,
stuff with an edge to it.  So he told us to plug into the board.  He didn't
want to record live in the room.  And we wanted the sound of the room,
that's what made Goldband great.  I wish we could have done something
with him, but these days you are better off figuring it all out for yourself.
We recorded our first record in our house.  I'd like to record at
Wallyphonic in L.A.; Wally from Big Sandy has his own studio out there.
Toe Rag in England has recorded some cool stuff.  We could just walk in
there and wouldn't have to say a word to the guy and it would sound
great.  Old microphones sound so good, there are very few places to
record like that today.
B - In a recent interview, Grant from The Smugglers mentions that they
went to Indiana to record their recent album.  They got something
different from the live sound that they used previously.  The new album
was engineered by Mass Giorgini of Lafayette, Indiana.
M - If you listen to a lot of that old stuff like Chess and Goldband, all that
old Andre Williams stuff done up in Detroit, that sound is so warm and
sounds so good. People now realize that old technology sounds better,but
most of that was destroyed and when they make it again the only groups
that can afford it are groups like U2.
B - I'm glad you have the imagination to get into it.  It was nice talking
with you.  I was happy to see you guys perform tonight.
M - Cool man..
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TREBLE FEST '96

       I'm not sure how I let Roberta talk me into going camping and
hiking for the days preceding TrebleFest, but somehow it happened.  And
that's how I found myself waking up at 3:30 AM the Sunday before the
fest itself.  That's how I found myself standing second in line at the
NorthWest counter at 5 AM.  That's how I found myself still second in line
at 5:30.  But that's explained in the sidebar.
       I'll spare you the blow-by-blow of the camping trip and only sketch
it out a bit.  Night the first it rained.  The next day it also rained, but
Roberta wanted to go on a hike, so I somewhat graciously offered to go,
despite the rain.  Well, about midway thru, I was no longer gracious.
Since the weather was so damned miserable, neither one of us was all that
interested in going out and finding something to do, so we called it a night
waaaay too early.  Which meant I was fidgeting all night.  Here's a hint:
there is no room to fidget in a small tent built for two people, especially
when it's pouring out.  Touch the sides of the tent and there's a good
chance you'll  be spending a very wet night.
       I think I could've dealt with the lousy weather (which, we were
told, was exceedingly rare in these parts) if it hadn't been for the
excessively ugly campgrounds we were at (a place called the Park Place
Camping Resort, about five miles south of Estes Park.)  We were there for
two reasons:  first, I'd wanted a place with showering facilities and,
second, Roberta had just called up the Estes Park Chamber of Commerce
and asked for a recommendation.  Who knows?  Maybe, compared to the
rest of what's around, it's actually  good place.  Yeesh, I mean, the whole
friggin' town is infested with places just like it.  Well, to be completely
truthful, some of the places at least have the advantage of not playing host
to RVs.  Those things really scare me... those two mornings at that
campground, I'd walk to the showers and I'd pass this guy parked on his
lawn chair, set at his RV's door, rading the paper.  I'd come back ten hours
later and he's still be in the same dang spot.  I just got the impression that
many of these folks just take off in that thing and spend a month just
sitting in one place.
       Anyway, on Tuesday it was relatively dry, so Roberta and I hunted
for new digs. As it turned out, we got rather lucky, finding an open site at
the Longs Peak Campground inside the Rocky Mountain National Park.
A major improvement... no RVs and a nice, quiet area.  No showers,
unfortunately, but I figured I could go a couple days of smelling, if that's
what it took.  (Besides, Roberta was so happy.)
       Well, we took off for a hike once we'd gotten set up.  I guess
Roberta and I had a miscommunication here, 'cuz I coulda sworn she said
we'd stop at the Eugenia mine.  I figured 1.4 miles going uphill was
enough for our afternoon hike.  Nope.  She decided we could push on to
Moore Park, a back-country campground (one that absolutely nobody
seemed to be camping in... not that I blamed them. I certainly didn't want
to have to carry a big frame pack all that way.)  But that turned out not to
be the end of it.  We actually ended up going about 2.5 miles each way
that day.
       We decided to celebrate by getting some steaks and cooking 'em
over a campfire.  Now, I figured Roberta would have one started in no
time, since she's Campy Girl.  Uh, well... it took a while.  Shit happens.
       The next day was even crazier... she had me hike up to Chasm
Lake... A 4.2 hike that would take us 2400 feet above the Ranger Station,
which was at least a hundred feet and a couple tenths of a mile from our
tent.  (No, Roberta would not let me drive up there.)  This hike had almost
no downhill at all in it... almost completely up, the whole way.  And most
above the tree-line.  (Which, by the way, meant I ended up with a sunburn
on my neck, arms, and the back of my legs.)  Even so, this was kinda cool,
what with us walking across snow on one ridge, plus scrambling up a
section of rock to reach our final destination, an incredibly beautiful lake
at the base of a glacier.

       On now, to our trek down to Denver.
       Well, somehow I'd gotten the impression that the hotel we had
reservations at, The Regency, was a few blocks rom the club.  After about
an hour a half of driving around, we called an found out that it was, well...
not.  After driving out to it, we decided we really weren't into driving
back and forth each night, so we looked thru that trusty ol' AAA
guidebook and found something a bit more expensive in downtown
Denver, only about 12 blocks from the club.  The down-side of this was
that most T-Festers would be at the other place.  Of course, if we hadn't
been at this hotel, I would never have run into Jim Sangster of The Young
Fresh Fellows, who was there for another music wing-ding in the city, the
Lodo Music Festival, with his other group, The Picketts (a sorta country-
ish group that everyone ought to see if they get the chance).  And I would
never have had that great conversation on Saturday afternoon with The
Picketts singer.......  (I really love a good conversation, and this one lasted
about an hour and a half and covered a variety of topics.)
       Anyway, we didn't manage to get over to the club on Thursday till
about 5:30 or so.  Once there, though, I ran into Ms. Andrea, a banana-
truffler from Boston that I'd met once before, plus this guy from Las Vegas
that was hangin' out with her.  Also there at the time were Michael from
the Element 79 and 360 Twist, as well as Garrett from Boss 302.  We were
handed our Treble-Fest paper bags (which included 3-D glasses, a coaster,
and an air "freshener").  The 3-D glasses were, of course, to be used for
any 3-D movies we might  watch over the next couple days at the bar in
the afternoon.  The one on when we arrived was especially hilarious.  All I
remember is these humans pitted against some really slow aliens dressed
in gorilla suits with space helmets for heads.  We walked in halfway thru,
so I'm hoping that explains why I had no idea what was going on.  I mean,
some human guy ties up the woman I suppose is the heroine, then later
makes out with her in the bushes with his top off and suddenly she's in
love with him and they're getting married.  Geez, if I'd only known it was
that simple back in high school!
       I will say that Denver was not much of a culinary experience.
Maybe we didn't know where to go, but our dinners were nothing special.
Once done, though, it was time to head back to the club to begin the
fuzztivities.
       When we got back to the club, they hadn't opened the doors yet.
We found ourselves hanging out on the sidewalk with Andrea, Benny
from Vegas, and these two gals from Michigan.  It was still light out, so we
sat and shot the shit for a while.  Kinda nice, really... calm before the storm
and all that, but the excitement, even in this small group, was already
building up.
       Hmm... maybe before starting the run-down, a description of The
Raven Lounge is in order... The Raven is located at 2217 Welton Street in
"Lower Downtown Denver."  I'm not really sure what that means to a
Denver-ite, but I can say that the area is a few blocks beyond the heart of
Downtown.  It's kind of away from things and seems a bit deserted.
Except for the club, the area seems quite deserted at night.  Entering the
club, you show your ID (yep, you'd damn well better be 21), then move on
to your right to either show your 3-day pass (my # was 007, quite to my
delight) or pay the night's ticket price if there were any left.  Right in
front
of you at that point is a Schnapps Bar (something I've yet to figure out),
then you hook a left to enter the main area.  The stage is on your
immediate left as you enter a fairly square looking room, with the stage
looking out at the dance floor, booths along each side and chairs at the
back.  Behind those chairs is the main bar, which is on the exact other end
of the squarish room from the stage.  Go all the way to the bartender's
right and you can actually go around behind the bar to a quieter area.
That way, if you don't happen to like the band on-stage, that's a nice quiet
place to talk.  Best of all, there's an actual water fountain back there.  (That
way I didn't have to keep bugging the bartender.  I'll tell you, I really
appreciate a bar with a water fountain.)  Cooler yet, a lighted Miller Beer
ad sign above it dating back to, I'd say, the early-mid 70s, showing five
people in a living room swigging the Miller having a great time.  The
funniest thing, to me, is that it showed two obvious couples and then one
guy without a gal-pal.  I kept wondering if he was their bachelor pal,
regaling them with tales of the single life.  Just behind this room was a
room featuring a pool table or two.  Unfortunately, this amusement was
closed to us, since the room was being used for selling merchandise.  I
kept wishing they'd move the merch table to the room near the water
fountain, or even more in view of the main room, near the back corner,
then letting us go shoot pool.  Ah, well, maybe next time.
       So, there you go, that's the set-up.  Oh yeah, except for one thing - a
HUGE disco ball, suspended from the ceiling.  This has gotta be the one
thing I really love from that era (tho' I believe the things came in before it,
it was disco that really made 'em hit the mainstream) and even if it sorta
wigs some people out, I think it's cool.

Thursday Night
       I'd be surprised if more than ten people were actively watching
when The Hectics took the stage just after 8 PM.  It was their loss, though,
'cuz these two girls and a guy put on a damn fine set, featuring catchy
melodies moving at an, umm... hectic, clip.  They even covered
Supercharger's "Come On, Get Out" to the delight of... well, those of us
who were there.  What's pretty amazing is that I didn't even realize they
had no bass player till about halfway through, when I suddenly heard
notes and chords being played.  Then Mr. Swifty (that's me) looks up and
notices two guitars.  Revelation.  But it was cool, too, 'cuz it meant I didn't
miss the bass one iota.  These gals have a single out now.  I'd suggest
getting it.
       The crowd was still building when Mondo Topless took the stage.
These guys clock in as having made the longest trip of anyone in the fest
(Thee Headcoats may have traveled further, but I'm guessing they flew, so
it took a bit less time), since they spent 34 hours driving, stopping over in
St. Louis and getting a show there that night thanks to the assistance of
Kopper.  Mondo Topless has come a loooong way in the four years
they've been together.  Their hard work has paid off, too, as their Vox
Continental / early '67 garage sound shows.
       Sugar Shack would be the first band of TrebleFest to get the crowd
going truly wild.  I'll say right off that they're not my style, really; much
too harsh for my ears.  That's OK, though, because they did manage to
affect me on a pure energy level.  The effect they have on the audience is
undeniable, as the crowd started moving en masse.  For me, the highlight
was watching Ms. Stefanie Friedman, subbing in on drums for the night.
Stefanie (who also plays with the Lord High Fixers & the King Sound
Quartet) ranks as one of my fave drummers of today, as she bashes the
living crap outta those things.
       Now, by the time Sugar Shack were done, the place had gotten a bit
more filled.  More friends from all over had started showing up.  I was
running into people I hadn't seen since GarageShock, '95... Rich from Boss
302, Matt & Kim from Houston, Chris Hedlund, Stefanie Friedman, etc.
And meeting some other friends from banana-truffle, like Kopper and
Scott (unkraut).  Not to mention seeing folks in bands who live out of my
own area, friends I only see when either they come to NYC or I go
somewhere near them.  Bands like The Hatebombs and The Hentchmen,
who come to the NYC area on a semi-regular basis (well, the Hatebombs
have only been in our area once before, in May for two shows, but I've got
a good feeling they'll be making it up more often).
       Next up were The Hentchmen.  Now, as I said, these guys come to
my neck of the woods from their Michigan homes fairly often.  In fact,
they're probably here once every few months.  Once upon a time, I might
not have cared quite as much, but these days I look forward to just about
every show they do.  Now, I could've sworn I managed to get the
Hentchmen's set list this night, but if I'm right... well, I don't have it
anymore.  Well, that's my problem, not yours.  They played a fantastic set,
getting the crowd revved-up with various faves from singles and CDs
alike, including my personal favorite, their version of "Red River Rock."  It
was pretty wild, too, with a whole bunch of people pressing up against
the stage dancing and singing along.  All hail the Hentch!
       Closing out night the first were The Makers.  Originally, The Fall-
Outs had been booked, but that had fallen through.  Somehow, I don't
think it really bothered most people, since I saw a few posts on banana-
truffle and AOL's Primitive Garage Rock'n'Roll folder saying they were
actually perfectly satisfied with the substitution.  As for me, I'm not sure it
mattered either way beforehand.  After the fact, though, I'd have to say
i'm glad The Makers took the slot, just because I don't believe The Fall-
Outs could've managed to unify the crowd nearly as well.
       Now, I'd seen the Makers a couple times before out in Bellingham.
Both those times, honestly, I didn't think they were overwhelmingly great.
Actually, I'd considered their live act fairly marginal.  I loved their
records, but live they seemed to spend too much time heckling the fans
and trying to be wild and not enough concentrating on making sure they
stayed together.  Things just seemed to fall apart.  Now, though, they've
got a new guitar player and he seems to spearhead the instrumental
charge.  These guys are now a force to be reckoned with.  The whole
crowd was instantly one mass of flesh, writhing and jerking as one.  As
the sweat poured, the beer flew.  Those little mini-pitchers evidently made
perfect beer-slingers.  And the Makers rode it hard, although many had
trouble distinguishing one song from the next.  Even so, I did manage to
pick out a few favorites, including Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels'
"Sock It To Me" and the band's own "Bust Out" (a definite crowd-pleaser).
Nothing prepared me, though, for the last song of the encore.  I hear Mike
Maker call out to the band for "Out Of My Mind."  Now, I'm thinking that
it couldn't possibly be that "Out Of My Mind."  But then I heard it...
"Bomp-Bomp-Bomp BOM-Bomp!"  Sure enough, The Makers were
covering a favorite Original Sins' track from The Hardest Way.  If you ever
wanted proof that The Makers have real good taste in rock'n'roll, this is it,
hands down.  Afterward, I had to go up and personally thank each one of
them.  And I thank them again here.
       Well, that was the first night.  After the Makers finished, it was time
to hang out some more and say goodnight to all.  Then Roberta and I
walked the twelve blocks back to our hotel.  Thus endeth TrebleFest Night
Numero Uno.

       I'd wanted to sleep late on Friday morning.  Roberta, however, had
had the bright idea to tell Pete Papageorgantis that it was perfectly OK to
call us at 10 AM.  Pete, of course, justified it by saying that it was Noon,
New York-time.  (Yeah, fine, but we had been in Colorado since Sunday,
unlike him;  he'd just gotten in that night.)  So Pete called at 10 AM and he
and Roberta kept trying to figure out what to do about breakfast/lunch.
Me, I didn't care... all I wanted to do was effin' SLEEP!  In other words,
'you two leave me the bleep alone and do whatever you want.'  It didn't
work out that way.  Finally, after a bunch of calls, Pete decided he was
going to rent a car.  OK.  Whatever.  I just wanted to go back to bed.  By
that time, though, Roberta was having none of that.  So we went and got
something to eat.  It was in the lobby that afternoon that I spotted Jim
Sangster coming out of the elevator.  I told him who was playing that
night and he was really into it, but he ended up not being able to make it.
       Later on, we drove out to the suburbs, where Cheyne of Boss 302
was hosting "TrebleFiesta," an afternoon wing-ding/BBQ thing.  Quite
cool, with all the classic backyard BBQ eats - burgers and dogs, plus
chicken and even the makings of burritos.  Best of all, this was a chance for
Festers to chill out, relax, and just hang.  Unfortunately, when you're
seeing a whole bunch of good bands in one night, you sometimes don't get
as much chance to just hang out as you might like.  And this is a major
bummer, since many of those in attendance are friends you only get to see
at such events.  So, Thank You, Cheyne.

Friday Night
       I wanted to make sure I got to the Raven early on Friday night.
Slotted at the pole position were The Element 79, a group I'd first heard
when I returned from GarageShock, '95 with their debut 45, "Upstairs"
(360 Twist), in hand courtesy of singer/guitarist Michael Daboll.  I'd
thrown it on my turntable and been amazed at the great garage grooves
contained therein.  This stuff reminded me primarily of The Miracle
Workers circa 1984.  In other words, The Element 79 were a garage group
of the type I'd first fallen for, back in 1984's Summer of Fuzz.  I guess what
I'm getting at is that The Element 79 hearken back to the roots of the
garage scene, when bands were proud to have the "Sound of '66."  So
seeing them kick off TrebleFest Night #2 was of paramount importance to
me.  Luckily, I arrived in plenty of time.
       It was Friday night and that meant there were a few more people
there at the start than there had been the previous evening for the Hectics.
Unfortunately, it still didn't guarantee a large crowd.  That kinda gets me
pissed because it means people missed some really fantastic stuff and
didn't even care enough to try.  Yeesh, why even bother coming to one of
these things if you're not gonna do your damnedest to catch the whole
thing?  I mean, I felt weird not hanging out a good portion of the
afternoon at the bar like I often do at GarageShock, but to miss any of the
bands on purpose would make me feel like an idiot.  I don't know, maybe
some people had something important to do or something, but I just can't
fathom why anyone wouldn't organize their time so as to catch the whole
thing.  I might understand it if a person had heard the band and not liked
them, but my guess is that many people weren't all that familiar with the
Colorado bands on the bill.  And, in that case, I'd think they'd want to hear
them all the more.  Silly me.
       Anyway... The Element 79 took the stage with only a couple
handfuls of us on the floor and a bunch more scattered around the bar.
They played well, moving through a variety of material from all three of
their 45s (which every true garage fan should really make sure they get a
hold of), including their version of Murphy & the Mob's "Born Loser," plus
a number of as-yet-unrecorded originals.  (Michael says they tried going
into the studio a little while ago, but they just weren't ready yet, so fans
will have to be patient.)  It was a damn good set, brimming with that "'66
Spirit" I love.  I'm hoping they'll find their way East one of these days
soon.
       The HateBombs hit NYC and Hoboken in May.  By then I already
owned one or two of their recordings, but I still wasn't quite prepared for
their live show.  As it turned out, those shows had been NOTHING
compared to what they managed to do in Denver.  I'd have to say these
guys did one of the absolute wildest shows of the whole fest.  And, while
the crowd was still in the growing stages when they were on, it seemed
like most of them were on the floor watching and dancing once they
kicked in.  Yeah, they played some of their singles - "She's The Girl"
started it off, and "Peckinpah Man" came near the end - and also went into
the classic "Go Gorilla" with Ms. Andrea jumping up on stage with a
gorilla mask on to dance like mad while the boys pounded it out.  But it
was when the guys launched themselves into the audience - with one of
the guitar players doing a friggin' split! - that things really started going
over the edge.  They gave it their all and much, much more.  I'm betting
that these guys are gonna start moving into the garage scene fast lane
sometime soon.  All they need to do is record a long-player worthy of
them and then start playing the shows to back it up.  Hell, the records'll
sell like hotcakes after performances like this one.
       I was all psyched to see The Drags at GarageShock,'95.  Thing is,
they were playing on the Saturday night.  Now, both times I've been out
for that fest, the Crocodile Cafe has also held a corresponding shindig
down in Seattle, including a Saturday afternoon show.  What this means is
that I get to see a bunch of cool bands on Saturday afternoon and still
manage to catch more wildness that evening.  Unfortunately, this is G-
Shock '95 we're time-tripping to right now.  This was the 'Shock with the
lines and sell-out crowds.  So the friends who'd agreed to pick up tix for
the night's events for me while I journeyed down to Seattle ended up not
being amongst the lucky ones who got in.  It bummed me out that I was
missing The Drags, but I still got to see a pretty incredible show that night
at the Croc.  So TrebleFest '96 was my first chance to see the band that had
knocked me off my feet a couple years earlier with their debut single, "I
Like To Die," a number so chock full of bad attitude that those kids from
"Scared Straight" would probably wanna curl up and die themselves.
       I'll say right off that I don't think the band were nearly as
impressive as they could've been.  It seemed way too sloppy, with impact
being lost as a result.  "I Like To Die," in particular, didn't move me as
much as it should have, just because they weren't hitting it the way it
deserved.  That said, I still was happy as Roscoe P. Coltrane with Boss
Hog in a good mood.  Sure, they were sloppy, but they were playing some
cool rock'n'roll... more punk than most of the acts here, I guess, but a
completely different type of punk than anyone else I've heard.  This is
punk, no doubt, but it's punk with an Indiana Jones Ph.D. in rock'n'roll
history, as they crash through classics like "Rosalyn" and "Flying Saucer
Rock'n'Roll" right alongside punk faves like "Six & Change."  In other
words, yeah, I was dancing along with everyone else.
       Somehow, at the BBQ that afternoon, Roberta had managed to meet
all of The Marshmallow Overcoat.  She'd introduced me to organist
Debbie as a result of our shared love for her instrument.  As a result, I also
got to meet the group's vocalist, Tim Gassen, known to garagehounds
these days as the author of Echoes In Time, the book on the 80s garage
scene with the Chesterfield Kings on the cover.  (The new edition of the
book is called The Knights of Fuzz and covers the years 1980 thru 1995
over about 300 pages, according to the ad - the book was coming out one
week after T-Fest, unfortunately - and it has something like 30 pages of
color photos.  Gracing the cover of this edition are one of Canada's top
groups of the 1980s, The Gruesomes.)
       Now, the group itself has been through a number of changes since
the 80s garage heyday.  For one thing, they changed their name to simply
The Overcoat.  For another, they did what many of the surviving 80s
garage groups did - they developed a heavier, harder sound. Of course,
for the died-in-the-wool garage fans, the group had also developed an
alter-ego that would show itself from time to time, The Purple Merkins.
First appearing, I believe, on a 45 that shipped with a later issue of What
Wave, they also released a four-songer a couple years ago with a killer
cover of "Cock A Hoop."
       For TrebleFest (and the CD they've done for 360 Twist), they'd
returned to the Marshmallow Overcoat name.  According to the band,
they were planning on playing more of their old garage material.  For the
most part, they did just that.  Unfortunately, a bit of the hardness
remained and it seemed to put many people off.  Another problem was
the inordinate amount of time between some numbers.  I believe there
were some sound problems, but I don't think it helped the band's cause
that Tim kept screaming out, "TOTAL DEE STRUCK-SHUN!" in those
down times.  I kept watching, though, 'cuz I was really enjoying Debbie's
organ playing.  (She'd let me have a closer look at it earlier - I think it was
a Farfisa VIP 360 - and it had some of those classic settings... things simply
called "Special Effects" were quite intriguing to me.)  What was also cool
was that they actually did some material from way back (Tim wondered
aloud if anyone in the audience actually had  the record in question.  After
all, the intersection between today's garage scene and that of a decade
back is not as large as we might wish.)  One song I particularly enjoyed
was the group's cover of garage classic "White Lies."  The only problem is,
I'm still so used to hearing The Chesterfield Kings' version that it seems
weird hearing another take on it.  (So shoot me for not listening to the
original more than the C. Kings!)  To close things out, they went into The
Doors' "Take It As It Comes."  Now, there are many garage fans out there
who completely dismiss The Doors.  I've got one friend who saw them at, I
think, The Singer Bowl in '68 with The Who.  He said he couldn't stand
listening to Morrison spout poetry all night.  I guess I can understand that;
when I'm at a rock'n'roll show, I really don't feel like listening to someone
go into twisted verse.  It just does nothing for me.  All I want to do when
I'm seeing a band is just go nuts to the rock'n'roll music.  But that's
just it -
I think The Doors made some incredible music.  They did something
wholly different from anything else at the time.  Hell, I don't think
anyone's really done what they did even since they dissolved.  Some of
their music, for me, remains among the most powerful ever made, due in
no small part to Ray Manzarek's keyboard abilities.  Which brings us back
to The Marshmallow Overcoat:  Debbie nailed the organ solo on this one.
Personally, I thought it was a perfect song for them and left things on a
good note.
       As it turned out, the biggest band of the night would be none other
than fellow Jersey-ans The Swingin' Neckbreakers.  I suppose that
shouldn't be much of a surprise, considering the way they've become one
of the major groups on today's scene.  I guess, though, that it makes me
feel so damn good to see them go over so well with an audience that's
probably only seen them play once or twice at most.  They just tore
through their set, hitting all the highlights from both LPs (probably the
first one a bit harder), with the crowd singing along together through
much of it.  That in itself is kind of incredible to me.  Sure, it happens in
NYC and stuff, but more amongst the regulars than the whole damn
crowd.  Here, you've got a crowd that's all completely in tune with this
stuff.  This is a crowd that has probably all been digging I Live For Buzz
for a long time now, a crowd that probably has at least one or two of the
band's 45s (especially "Workin' & Jerkin'," their Estrus 45, which had
everyone going nuts).  So to see everyone moving together, jumping up
and down, moving with arms around each other's shoulders, singing to
each other, shouldn't have been a surprise.  And I guess it wasn't.  But it
was a thrill.  And it made me realize just how damned lucky I am to have
these guys playing around my hometown on a regular basis.  Of special
note tonight was Jeff's guitar-playing.  For the first time, it seemed like he
was really loud enough even when he wasn't playing a lead.  Up till now,
I've been happy 'cuz that part has been overwhelming, but I was always a
bit bummed that the rhythm part wasn't coming through as much as I
would've liked.  Well, that was no problem at this show; Jeff was plenty
loud enough and those chords were hard and hot the whole way.  The
perfect band to close the night and leave everyone a sweaty mess.

       Saturday afternoon was a slow one for us.  Both of us were pretty
damned tired and we knew we weren't going to sleep until we got on the
plane down in Colorado Springs the next morning.  I chose to sleep late.
Well, at least I managed to stay in bed fairly late, tho' I was probably
awake an hour or so earlier.  Roberta, on the other hand, chose to get up
relatively early (probably before 10 AM!).  She paid for it - by a bit after
noon, she was crankin' Z's in the room.  That's when I had the time to go
down to the lobby to read and relax.  It felt good and I really needed it.

Saturday Night
       This was it.  The final night.  We made sure we got there on time.  A
good thing we did, too, 'cuz there was actually a line waiting to get in.
Not that we were worried about actually getting in (those prepurchased
tickets come in handy that way), but just in case they decided to get going
while the line was still out there, I wanted to be on the inside.  Besides, I
like to maximize the time at the event, drink in the feel of the thing.
Actually, lines like this often become a part of it (I'll never forget the five
hours spent waiting in line for a ticket for the Sunday night of
GarageShock, '95.)  This was fun, hanging out with folks who'd been there
for the whole thing, as well as a couple of fresh faces.  Fortune & Maltese
had just gotten in town late the night before, so we hung outside for a bit
and talked (and talked and talked).  There was a real excitement in the
air... I could feel it both within myself and in the crowd around me.
Somehow everyone suspected this would be the night.  Part of this, I'm
sure, had something to do with people getting to see Thee Headcoats, but
for me (and, I would think, many others) it was the lineup as a whole;
tonight looked to be a real blowout.
       Starting it off were Boss 302, the local boys.  I'd never seen them
before, but Garrett 302 had sent me a tape of them, as well as their singles
(see reviews in TS #55) and I had at least some idea what they sounded
like.  Well, these guys really blasted in hard, with vocalist Rich taking
charge the whole way.  Here's a guy who knows how to move up there.
(And I heard a couple of the gals saying they were, ummm... interested.)
While I'd describe their sound as being influenced by groups like The
Saints stuck in the garage, a friend pointed out that they've got a bit of The
Misfits thrown in, as well.  A perfect way to start out the night.
       I'd been waiting to see Fortune & Maltese again ever since their
killer set at Maxwells in June.  Yeah, not such a long time, really, but after
seeing them do a set like that to so few attendees, I was really psyched to
see them play to a decent crowd, especially one that might was into the
kind of stuff they were into.  In a way, I was kinda bummed out, because
they'd only managed to make the festivities on the night they were
playing.  (Like The Woggles & Mondo Topless, they'd driven pretty much
across the country.  Unfortunately, they were only able to get a couple
days off work, which meant they'd only be around for the one night.)
Well, at least we got to hang out a little bit.  More importantly, I guess, I
got to see them do another set.  Only one thing really went wrong:  there
were some major sound problems during their set.  Worst of all, for at
least half the performance, I could barely hear Mike's Vox Jaguar.
Somehow, though, I must've managed to get through it because I was
dancing like an absolute maniac while they were on.  I remember seeing
Matt & Kim from Houston focusing that camera on me once or twice, so
anyone who wants to get a good laugh just get in touch with them.  (Well,
actually, I caught at least one or two other vid-cams focusing on me out of
the corner of my eye, so there are other folks out there who'll be rolling on
the floor, as well.)  Yeesh, I was completely soaked with sweat by the time
they finished.  Come to think of it, by the time they finished up "Wig
Wam," the first flippin' song of the set, I was dripping.  Then singing
along with "No Dice," "My Baby's Hearse" (I love the backing vocals on
that one), "Bamboozled Again" (it was this one that really made me
realize how low the organ was - the only time I really heard it was when
Mike started off the song), plus the very Electric Prunes-"Too Much To
Dream"-like "Gonna Chase You To The Ends Of The Earth," "Fools
Gold," "Don't Mind If I Do" and a whole bunch of others.  Oh yeah, I was
also pretty damn pleased with the new one they played "Fiddled While
Rome Burns" I think it was called.  And, as always, when they jumped
into "Just Don't Care" I jumped like one of those Mexican beans we used
to play with as kids.  I'll tell ya, there's nothing like being sopping wet by
the end of the second band, with three more heavyweights still to come.
       Now, while Fortune & Maltese hadn't arrived till tonight, The
Woggles had only gotten into town on Friday night, so we'd at least
gotten to hang out a bit the previous night.  Best of all, I found out that
Montague, The Human Metronome (known to his parents as George), was
rejoining the band.  Unfortunately, he didn't know all the new material
and would only take the stage about halfway through.  But, as far as I'm
concerned, having George on the stage at all is a great bonus.  While I've
loved the Woggles in just about every incarnation I've seen or heard, I've
always been most pleased when there were two guitars present; it just
gives the group a bigger, fuller sound.  Now, they started off with The
Creeps' "Hi Hi Pretty Girl" and, as with Fortune & Maltese, it still
sounded a bit like the sound wasn't quite right.  I think (though my
memory's getting fuzzy, now, only two weeks after the start of the fest)
the bass was too loud and the guitar too low.  They must've been doing
something right, though, because I started twisting and shouting along
with everybody else.  But when George came on... well, that's when I
really started moving.  The sound was nice and loud, lots of guitar
hammering through my skull, with Manfred testifying like absolutely no
one else can.  Best of all, it was cool hearing George sing "Mule Lipped"
again, although I kinda missed hearing Pat do it.  Maybe they could
switch off?  Both of 'em are so perfect for this one.  If I'd dried up at all
before these guys went on, well... by the time they were done, I was
soaked all over again.
       Usually you can't get a set list from Jeff Conolly.  He puts it on his
organ and takes it with him when he leaves the stage.  Maybe he's a nut
like me and collects them (well, at least his own.)  Maybe I just like to
think there's someone else out there with this obsession.  I think, if I had a
band, I'd probably keep my set lists, writing down the location and a few
notes about the crowd and the show afterwards.  Maybe the lineup, too, if
that changed fairly often.
       Getting the set list this time was fairly easy; Jeff was being backed
by The Swingin' Neckbreakers and the group was playing as either Thee
Lyres or Man or MonoMan?, depending on who you were paying
attention to.  The ads said Thee Lyres, but Jeff referred to it on-stage as
Man or MonoMan?, so take your pick.  I can't see how it really matters.
The Neckbreakers had been practicing Lyres material on their own for
quite a bit, but I don't think they had more than two practices with Jeff.
Sure, things were a mite sloppy at times (on "Soapy," for example, when
the Neckbreakers were in the wrong key for the first minute or so), but it
was also an energetic blast.  What's more, it seemed like this audience was
really into seeing Jeff Conolly play.  In the NorthEast, seeing the Lyres is...
well, just kinda something that you expect to happen every few months.
The Lyres, for most, are a band that they've seen many times before.
Here, though, it was completely different.  I got the feeling the only people
who'd seen Jeff Conolly play before were those of us from the eastern part
of the country.  After all, the last time I think Jeff did a show west of the
Mississippi was in '89 when he was living in San Diego and The Nashville
Ramblers were his backing band.
       I look at the set list from the show now (I got one of the
Neckbreakers to give it to me) and see something starting it off called
"Lily."  I have absolutely no recollection of this.  First thing I remember
hearing is "In Motion" from that first Lyres EP.  That one got me calling
out for "Buried Alive."  Hell, if they were gonna play "In Motion" there
was a chance of the other one, too.  It didn't happen, but there was a
chance.  When they hit "Busy Man" the crowd really started moving.
Moving like mad.  People were singing along and actually crushing up
against the front!  The set also included Lyres' standards like "How Do
You Know?" and "Don't Give It Up Now" (I kept looking at faces that'd
never seen Jeff play before... they were singing along, jumping up and
down and had traces of awe in the expressions they wore.  That made me
really happy.)  Also in the set were songs like "Mighty Idy" and "100
CC's" (stuff you'll almost never hear The Lyres do anymore.)  A cover of
The Kinks' "What's In Store For Me" had me smiling and singing like
crazy.  The Lyres have always been among the best at doing Kinks kovers
and this was no exception.  This was a set to remember.  I've heard talk of
them doing some more shows like this, which I'm sure will be even better,
since they'll have actually played together a bit more.  But it was pretty
amazing, nonetheless.  Hell, a couple people I talked to said it was one of
the best shows they've ever seen.  Maybe Jeff will start going on the road a
bit more, as a result.  The garage punk planet has been getting bigger and
bigger in the la few years and he's obviously got a bunch of fans that'd
love to see him play.  I'd really love to be reading reviews of Lyres' shows
across the country on alt.music.banana-truffle.
       I knew a whole bunch of people who were really jealous that I was
going to TrebleFest (the same way I'm jealous of Lisa and all the rest who
were going to SleazeFest), mainly 'cuz it meant I'd be seeing Thee
Headcoats.  Now, I've been a fan of Billy The C. for a long time, ever since
The Milkshakes were still an active band.  While I've enjoyed his projects
since, I 'have never been all that convinced that any of them were as good
as the one that hooked me on his music in the first place.  I got to see Thee
Mighty Caesars in '88 at the Bad Music Seminar in NYC, where they
played two nights in a row.  They were fun and I was dancing up a storm
(back then I was still pretty nuts about anything Billy did, mainly 'cuz it
really wasn't all that long after The Milkshakes and the only stuff I'd heard
by the Caesars was "Little By Little," which could have passed for a
Milkshakes song.)  Really, though, now that I think back, they really were
kind of a mess.  I seem to remember drummer Graham Day having to tune
Billy's guitar for him.  I wasn't sure if it was 'cuz Billy couldn't do it
normally or if it was 'cuz he was pretty drunk the entire weekend.
Something I figured out pretty quickly the first night when I yelled up
from my spot right in front of the stage for "Why Don't You Smile Now?"
and Billy said they didn't remember the words, but that I was welcome to
climb up there and sing it as they played.  Now, anyone who's heard me
sing would know better, but obviously my friends were too drunk to
remember that, as they were trying to throw me up there bodily.  Lucky
for them, I resisted, saying I didn't know the words either.  Well, then Mr.
C. replied that the band would help me with them.  So much for them not
knowing the words, huh?
       So, yeah, Thee Mighty Caesars were a ton of fun, but the biggest
thrill was in getting to see Billy Childish play.  I guess it's like someone
wrote recently on Modslist, you can't just make idols out of these people...
they're really just the equivalent of The Swingin' Neckbreakers, The
Cynics, The Lyres, or whatever, but they just come from far away from
your hometown.  As a result, they seem larger than life to you.  To be fair,
that's oversimplifying it.  At least, it is in 1996; at this point, Billy's
put out
so many records that owning stuff just by bands with him in them would
constitute a bigger record collection than I had in high school (which,
while nothing major, was still more than probably everyone at Northport
High except for maybe my friend Brian.  But there were some pretty awful
records in there.)  So, while putting Billy Childish up on some pedestal
may be out of line, you've gotta respect him for the sheer volume of good
work he's done.
       OK, maybe it's time we got on with this damn thing, huh?  I don't
have the set list and I wasn't really trying hard to memorize every song
Thee Headcoats did.  Billy was looking good up there, having lost weight
in the eight years since I'd seen him (evidently he's given up drinking and
is almost a complete vegetarian now).  They started things moving pretty
quickly and I found myself dancing pretty hard all over again.  (Maybe I
should've brought a couple extra shirts along.)  There were two songs I
was planning on yelling out for during the set.  The first was the one I'd
yelled out for at the Caesars' show in NYC in '88, "Why Don't You Smile
Now?"  Well, they got to it before I even had a chance to ask!  I wish I
could've seen the look of glee on my face as I sang along in the crowd.
And when they started into "You're Lookin' Fine," I managed to worm my
way almost to the front so I could sing along with one of my many Kinks
favorites.  Somehow this one seemed so right at the moment.   I'm sure it
could've been adopted by various audience members, but I kept thinking
about it in a broader sense, about the whole crowd and the way I was
feeling.  (Pretty much on top of the world right then.)  The group went
through a whole bunch more tracks that I can't recall at this point, but that
had me dancing all over the place, from right to left, front to back,
wherever I felt like being.  Meanwhile I kept yelling out for a certain
Milkshakes song that I've always crazy for.  Finally, Billy said they were
gonna do an old Milkshakes' song, "She's Just 15 Years Old."  yeah, I went
nuts.  I was front and center and in the thick of the things for this.  I've
loved this song since I was about 18 and DJing college radio in Rochester,
NY.  And I've got a feeling I'm gonna love it for a long time to come.
       Well, the evening drew to a close.  The late start-up time meant that
the night went down to the wire.  Somehow the group managed to keep
going for a while, moving, at the end, into a sort of blues thing that was
pretty cool.  By this time I was standing on the side of the stage next to
Hatebombs drummer Ken Chiodini.  As they got into the final song, Ken
told me to hold his camera and then ran onto the stage to start beating on
one of the drums.  It was the perfect ending to a wild weekend.  One
last stop at the merchandise room, a bunch of goodbyes, and it was time to
head home.

The Wrap-Up
       I'm not gonna even try and pretend that I can make this into a
contest, awarding prizes to best band or anything.  There were just too
many absolutely fantastic performances.  Instead, I'll just say that I had a
truly wonderful time.  I'd like to thank 360 Twist & Michael Daboll for
that.  I'd also like to compliment them on a fine job.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NEKO LOVES TO ROCK'N'ROLL

       The wind finally warmed up Calgary and the smell of pine cleaner
stung my nose as I topped the stairs of The Night Gallery. The crew was
setting up shop for night three of the Rock'n'Roll Boat'n'Trailer show.  Al
Charlton, the fest producer, was pacing the wood floor anticipating an
interview with CBC radio in a few hours. Al is nice and modest, just the
qualities it takes for a fest success.  As we chat I look around and the late
afternoon light transforms the space back into the boxing gym it once
functioned as 50 years ago.  Coming through the back door was the trio of
hungry light-weights called Maow.  Scrappy little spitfires looking surly
from a rough night in a lumpy couch.  I started to spar, testing those
Canadian rock'n'roll waters.  I mentioned Cub and Cuddle Core, which
Neko was quick to slap down.  I parried with a bad metaphor about the
failure of the Little Red Book & Castro.  CC jabbed, Tobey roundhoused
and Neko stuck the boot in, I  was down for the count.  The ladies would
take the stage in a few hours  and surprise the hell out of me.  The
interview took place on a small fire escape outside the back door of the
club just outside the hallway urinal trench and band equipment space.  I
was still buzzing with enthusiasm about their performance and style
when we squeezed onto the porch, the only convenient quiet space in the
club.

Maow = Corrina on bass, Neko on drums and Tobey on guitar, they all
sing.

?s and pix..Bob Kondrak

What's the deal?  Are you the brains behind this, besides just being the
good looks?  You are all so pretty...
M - Are you a GBG, a girl band groupie?

I looked up Blondie's skirt back in '78, but that don't count.
M - I'd have looked up her skirt too.

Let's get back to you, got those fundamentals down and you hammered it.
M - Yeah, when we're not passing out.  We played really slow tonight.  I
felt like I was going to die, like we were playing in a swamp.

You used to be called something else?
M - We are MAOW and we used to be Meow, but there is a band in New
York called Meow so we killed them and didn't want to have anything to
do with the murder so we changed our name.  Plus we are first in the cd
file, a before e.

And you're so glib on-stage and you (Neko) are out front on drums.
M - It's only because we had that platform.  It was an opportunity we
could not pass by.

You're so inventive.
M - Yeah

And those nurses uniforms you played in, have you worn those before?
M - One other time to an unappreciative audience.

I dug it, it touched the student nurse button in me, my first crush was 16
and I was 14, she was a nursing student, I was an accident victim. (laughs)
You have a strong, basic rock'n'roll set which when I asked you earlier you
wouldn't admit to.
M - I was feeling a bit nasty before.  We rubbed her down and a couple of
us are on medication.  I took my Ritalin and now I'm fine.

What are your names, and how long have you played together?
M - Corrina and I play bass.  Neko and I play drums.  And I am Tobey and
I play guitar.  We have been together over a year, it will be two years in
September '96.

You don't take yourselves very seriously.
M - (laughs) How could we?  That would be a mistake with our level of
competence.  We want to have fun and we like to rock.  If the audience is
having fun then we're having more fun.  Sometimes the audience is so
listless, people just nodding their heads.

Even in Vancouver?
M - Oh Vancouver is shitty.  When audiences are being really bad I say, "I
feel like I'm in Seattle"  Hopefully our album will generate some response.

So you're on Mint, are you part of the Smuggler Family of recording
artists?  When I spoke to you earlier you quipped that you had all fucked
Grant.
M - We did not say that (laughs).  She doesn't, I don't fuck a Smuggler.  I
go out with Dave and she goes out with Beez from The Smugglers, but
don't ask us if they have anything to do with our rock career cause they
don't. They don't even come to our shows.  I like Dave cause he is very
tolerant of my hyperactivity.  He stayed with me when I was getting used
to my Ritalin dose.  So I have to love the man.  And Beez gives me money,
(laughs) Beez pays me off.  Tobey goes out with a very nice fellow from a
band called Zampeco, who we worship.

How old are you all?
M - I'm the youngest at 23.  I'm 25 and I will be 26. (fake cries) I'm the
youngest but the most mature. (laughs) Tobey just takes on lots of mom
dogma, we call her "Tobey md".

I guess I am a GBG.
M - Oh yeah we have encountered a lot of those.  Your not a creepy GBG.
Girls are cuter than boys.

You guys rock though, touch all the fundamentals.
M - I'm gonna tell Beez to get glasses like yours.

Yeah a few of those Smugglers wear glasses.  I saw them at the HMV in
store this afternoon.  They had that stage on wheels bouncing when they
did that little dance step number.
M - Yeah they ripped that off from the Brady Bunch.

So when is the new record out?
M - It's in the mail and it's called "The Unforgiving Sounds of Maow".

I saw where last year you had a single out on some label in Texas.
M - Twist Like This Records.  It's gone, they pressed 500 and sold them all.
We were shocked. I figured to have those in my closet for years to come.

Any videos out?
M - Maybe in July.

That's good cause you are so visual.  Jack from Lance Rock told me he had
seen you before and you performed in bikinis.
M - We used to wear fur bikinis with tails.  The Meow was a cat thing.
Neko said she gained too much weight to wear a costume, which is not
true.

The way Neko wore those loose garter snaps under her nurses skirt
tonight was marvelous.
M - (laughs) Yeah?

The nurses caps are a nice touch too, did you make those uniforms?  I
noticed some nice rhinestone detailing on yours.
M - I was calling myself the night nurse. Actually the nurse thing
happened because the suit was a birthday present from a friend.  And we
all had to have suits like it.  So we went to Value Villages and found
nurses uniforms and decorated them.

I like the bit of theater in your act, girl groups can usually do that.  The
Stinkies had costumes last night.
M - Sometimes it backfires if the audience isn't into it.  And you feel like
an asshole but if they are into it it's cool.

Some of the bands in the festival had the kitsch thing working for them.
M - I think Calgary is the new home of "Gay Rodge" (laughs).

Oh, what about Vancouver, you have Nardwuar?  He's up there fuckin'
everything up.  Has he recorded you yet?
M - No we have not gotten the opportunity to play a Nardwuar show yet
and we really would like to.

I'll have to send him a postcard and ask him to bring you all down next
time The Evaporators play Seattle.
M - That would be good, what magazine in Austin do you send things to?

Make Room, and he has a web page I put things on, back east it's Blair's
Teen Scene.
M - Oh, Blair Buscareno, we know him.

Yeah I've had fun up here and the bands that I've liked have been The Von
Zippers, The Stinkies and you guys tonight knocked me out.  I really like
drumming and having you out in front of the band was awesome, no high
hat, what's with that?
M - I never thought there was a point to using one.

Man you all looked relaxed up there and the way you talked to each other
between songs, I like bands that have an act, some schtick and you..
M - We love each other hard.

You were banging me all over the place!
M - Aw we bang each other!

You're embarrassing me.  (laughs) Getting back to those Smugglers, There
is too much going on in that group.  Grant overwhelms me sometimes
with his stage presence.
M - He doesn't overwhelm me.  He's about to cripple himself, though.

Last time I saw him on stage he was on crutches, at the East Hastings
Community Center.
M - You went to that show too?  Did you see when he swung those
crutches back and almost hit the drummer?

I remember Nardwuar went into the audience and tried to get everyone to
squat down and managed to almost get an 80 year old grandmother into
the position.
M - He was trying to force her, too. (laughs)  He is a complete maniac.  He
is the only guy who never forgets anything.

So you all just sprung out of nowhere up there in Van?
M - I think we know people enough to where we got the chance play.
People like us cause we are a break from music.  Shindig helped us out,
our first show was at a barbecue called the DebueBcue, a big party for
bands that had never played before.  All these people we knew from
Vancouver.  GT reviewed it in Discorder.  Grant has helped us out a lot
but we never sucked his dick, NEVER.  No No No.

The streetwalkers in Van are great, but here in Calgary I have yet to find a
decent whore.
M - (laughs) There are some right over there.  And the prostitutes where
we live, they all wear funky sweat pants and thongs and they are all so
scrubby.  We live in East Van.  Ooh I gotta piss. We are trained to kill.
Don't ever yell SHOW US YOUR TITS, or you will be in trouble.  Neko
and I are boxers.

Hey Neko I dug that loose garter look of yours tonight.
M - The floppy garters are there to hit me so I pay attention.

The costumes where great, you revealed and hid at the same time. Not
like those Stinkies when they played Nicky didn't have underwear on and
mooned us.
M - Oh The Stinkies are A#1, it don't get any better than that.  Nicky is
such a turn on babe.  We've gotta crush on a lot of babes.  She was offered
thousands of dollars to pose in Penthouse cause she is a hockey player.
Cause she is a fox.

So you never answered my question about who writes the songs.
M - I've written a lot of songs.  She's written a few.  I've written no songs
and don't even have a bass amp.  But she is quite magical.

Nice band chemistry, I'll look around for your record.
M - It's done, it's good and we like it.

Where did you record at?
M - Mushroom studios, cause we won Shindig, we also recorded at The
Greenhouse and they were very good to us.  They are building a hot tub.
KD Lang recorded there.  I fucking worship KD Lang and when we signed
to Mint I said the only way we would sign was if they could help me meet
her.  We had an oral agreement. (laughs)

Do lesbians come to your gigs?
M-  No we wish more did.  I had one dyke that was hot on us at the
Railway that one night.

Where do you guys like to play up there?
M - We like to play The Hungry Eye, but the guy who runs the place is an
asshole. He complains about not getting enough money and so he is
changing it to a bondage/saran wrap bar.  Melissa, the woman who books
the place is the nicest person and is a huge supporter of ours for a long
time.  We look forward to playing Seattle soon.  Hopefully at the
Crocodile.

Yeah that's the place I'd like to see you play.  Don't play The Weathered
Wall.  Ask Nardwuar about the WW.
M - I know where to play, I'm from Tacoma for god's sake.

Oh yeah, but you wouldn't p[lay Tacoma!
M - Hey that's the first place I'd play, I'm quite Tacoma-proud.

Yeah, I hear The Boss Martians on their second number.
M - But they're frat boys and we don't want to watch them.

Girl Trouble is up next.
M - We love them.  We're gonna boogie boogie boogie when they play. I
have nothing but good things to say about them.  They are a huge
inspiration for me.  Bon Von Wheelie is the best female drummer ever.
They are always so nice to their fans.  They are so comfortable, the
friendliest rock'n'roll band ever.  I totally owe them.  Something is wrong
with anybody that doesn't like Girl Trouble.

So you know Blair?
M - Blair is so nice.  I was on this tour this past summer and we had so
much fun with Blair.  I was playing drums in Cub.

Oh! You're that Neko.  You jumped out and punched some dude in the
face at a show.
M - He was yelling, "Show Us Your Tits."  I got off the stage and someone
pointed him out so I went up to him and told him what he said was totally
wrong.  I asked him what his problem was.  I told him if he didn't like us
that was cool, I might not like his band.  He said he was a record producer
and we got into it from there. He called me a "fucking whore".  So I fuckin'
socked him.  His friend was so sorry.

Down in Houston?
M - Yeah.

Yeah that's a "Gilley's" move (Neko is sporting a "Gilley's Houston" T
shirt) if I ever heard one, just socked him?
M - Well I've socked a few people, he was just the most publicized.  When
you were gone I read about it and thought "Oh god that's our drummer". I
got him kicked out of the club later.  I had the biggest, meanest guy in the
place throw him out so he would look bad.

Well I'm glad I finally met the famous Neko.  Did you have a good time
drumming with Cub?
M - Oh yeah those girls are so fun.  They have a reputation for being cute
but they are not cute at all, they are mean women.  They are tired of being
cute.  The Muffs and Queers are the funnest people we all got so tight and
partied every night.  I have nothing bad to say about either of those bands
they are so awesome.

Blair was so hyped and went to five of those shows.
M - He did and it was nice to have a familar face in the crowd.  He was
very supportive, he even took me to a Friendly's which I hadn't been to
since I was a kid.

Well, I hope things work for Maow.
M - We all have strong personalities, as long as we keep having fun, if we
start getting bitchy we will self destruct.

-------------------------------------------------------------
MAOW - *The Unforgiving Sounds Of* (Mint)
-------------------------------------------------------------

       Maow's debut 7" EP was reviewed a couple issues ago.  I liked it,
but I didn't go nuts for it.  So when this CD went into my stereo and some
of the wildest she-stompin' I've ever heard came clawing out at me, I was
ecstatic.  I played it for friend after friend and every one was jumping
around.
       The promo materials talk about this disc in mainly rockabilly terms.
That element definitely shows up, but there's much more... there's a
melodic punk bit poking its head in at times; on a couple songs they even
shout it out and rev it up, almost peeking over a hardcore window ledge
(tho' never quite going in.)  And at other times they're in weepy country
mode.  Thing is, no matter what they're doing, it all sounds purely Maow.
It all comes together perfectly.
       These girls are out for a good time right from the get-go, a number
called "Wank", going on in first-person about how this guy really wants to
spend the night with her, but what he's really gonna end up doing is...
well, the title should give a clue on that score.  Now, this could come out
sounding incredibly dumb if the music wasn't so damn good, a rockabilly
framework filled with melody and spunk.  Next up is a cover of Wanda
Jackson's "Mean Mean Man" done faster (as is almost everything on this
20'30", 16 song disc), but otherwise fairly true to the classic.  There's one
other cover included, too, a version of Nancy Sin's "How Does That Grab
You, Darlin'?", not as quick-stepped as the Wanda song, and with a
fantastic vocal twang.  Now, while those covers are fun, it's the band's
own compositions that get me dancing all over the apartment.  "Ms.
LeFevre" pumps out the pop side of the punk rock in style; give the band
the right crowd and I can see a bunch of kids jumping up and down with
huge smiles on their sweat-gleaming faces.  "Very Missionary," on the
other hand, adds in a violin (by Sexy Pierre) and goes straight for the
country side of town.
       Put simply, this is one damn great disc.  Pure fun.  Here's a free
recipe:  buy Maow disc; turn on stereo; place said CD in player; press play.
Instant party.  (And instant popularity.)
       Now, how do we go about getting these Maow gals to come play in
New York Town? -- BB
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SLEAZEFEST DOUBLE-TAKE

***Originally, I'd planned on finally making this one myself.  However, as
our TrebleFest trip drew near, and we spent money on camping
equipment and various other of life's many expenses (like getting towed,
but that story comes later on), it became pretty clear that Sleazefest just
might not be in my near future.  So when Ms. Lisa Furlong agreed to cover
it for me, I was quite grateful.  As it turned out, a few other friends were
heading down, as well.  My friend Mike was supposed to give me
something on it the year before, but (like many of us, myself included) life
got in the way of writing.  However, he volunteered to do it this time,
unless I already had someone.  I did (Lisa), but she was coming back a day
early, so I told Mike that if he was into writing that up, he was welcome
to.  Thing is, I went to check my mail the other day, and who should send
me a Sleazefest review, but another sometime TS contributor, Eric Fusco.
So, presented here, are reviews by both Eric & Lisa.  Thanks to both of
them.***

Now - Ladies First...
       Sleazefest, the third chapter.  I was in attendance at the first of these
shindigs, and that weekend stands out in my memory as being one of the
finest weekends of my life.  Great music, great friends - new and old, bad
beer, and lots and lots of sweat.  When a friend hipped me to the dates of
this year's party, I was on the phone making arrangements faster than a
bat out of hell.  Then I sat around and twiddled my thumbs for four
months.  But, like all good dates, the weekend finally arrived and I was
Chapel Hill bound.

       I went down to NC with a nifty little notepad in hand with the
intention of taking copious notes.  I wound up taking almost no notes, so
what follows is the post-show ramblings of a rock and roll fan.  (See, she's
PERFECT for this mag! -- ed.)  There are no set list notations because -
well, it's very difficult to simultaneously dance and write.  Hell, I'm still
grappling with walking and chewing gum.

       Anyhoo, on Friday night, I got to the Local 506 just in time to catch
most of the Subsonics' set.  I know that I have seen this band before - they
just had never left much of an impression on me. This time around I really
enjoyed them.  I'm not familiar with their recorded stuff, so I'm not
qualified to make any grand pontifications about them.  (Blair loves 'em,
though! ) They have a pretty damn good handle on the lo-fi primitive rock
and roll end of things, and looked cool to boot.  Granted, I got much closer
to seeing the lead singer's testicles then I truly ever wanted to, but I'd
still
add them to my list of bands I'd rate PATH-worthy.  (Note to non-NYC
metro-types: the PATH is the subway that runs from Hoboken to NYC...
takes about 15 minutes to get to the West Village. But then you've gotta
walk over to the East side for anything worthwhile. -- ed.)

       Next up were the Bad Checks - a local Chapel Hill band.  This band
was a little too Tad-like for my taste.  I s'pose they were amusing, but they
provided ample time to meander around.  During their set, I ambled next
door to get a slice of pizza (Ray -wherever he may be -needn't worry his
dear little head off  about stiff competition coming from Chapel Hill) and
was privy to an entire conversation between staff and customer about how
to say "fuck you" in various Chinese dialects.  Gotta love college towns,
eh?

       I have to say, kids, I have seen the future of rock, and it's a circus
out there.  Bigtop.  I have to admit my apprehension about Friday night's
headliner - I mean, a circus/rock extravaganza.  Yeah, right.  Circuses
were the stuff of childhood nightmares - two bit county fairs and Ringling
Bros. outings as a child put the fear of Bozo in me.  New-agey feel good
Cirque de Soleil stuff sets my teeth on edge as well.  Bigtop was really
facing a cynic here.

       Well, the band's presence was felt the entire evening.  Freak show
portraits hung over the bar in the front room, and the huge sparkly light
up letters that spelled out Bigtop hung behind every act that night.
Christmas lights were strung from the go-go cage with much care.  The
first act up during Bigtop's set that evening - a lovely lady in a sequined
leotard twirling flaming batons.  Next up - a punk rock chick passing out
corn dogs.  Now, mind you, during all of this, there was a woman in an
evening gown on a riser off to the side of the stage chucking stale popcorn
at the audience - just in case you thought that there was a dull moment
during any of this.

       Following the corn dog passing out came the Glitter Twins - two 50
plus year old German contortionists.  They were quite a stupendous sight.
>From what I was told, the Glitter Twins were refugees from some or other
circus, and had been performing in Athens (GA) for tips of late.  The MC
urged the audience to tip the twins, since (like all good professions) they
get by on tips alone.  The audience was actually pretty lame on this point;
the flurry of dollar bills was no where near equal to the talent being
displayed on stage.  But then, c'est la guerre.

       Now, we had the fire eater.  The statuesque bass player for
Nashville Pussy guzzled kerosene and  spit flames out over the crowd,
increasing the temperature in the club by a toasty 20 degrees or so.  Mind
you, this very same woman was later working the cotton candy machine
and smoking a cigarette  almost absentmindedly even!  Why she didn't
just combust right then and there is completely beyond me.  That was it
for the sideshow - now it was time for the actual band.  And yes, they
were dressed up as...clowns (with a strong man for good luck).

       Jim, the head clown lead singer-type , was probably the single most
frightening thing I have witnessed since I (brilliantly) watched Henry,
Portrait... by myself on a Saturday night. The band was joined by two
folks in monkey suits, a bevy of bouncing nubiles and a fellow in giant
styrofoam head thing for the gut wrenching "death of clown" number.
Musically, Bigtop were pretty big time rock and roll;  I probably wouldn't
have enjoyed the music quite so much if the whole thing hadn't been such
an amazing spectacle.  Likewise though, the hard rock quality of the set
was truly in keeping with the overall hugeness of this band.

       I feel a moral obligation to say a few words about this band's finale
- since I was lucky enough to be in the company of a veteran Bigtop
audience member.  When you see the guy in the chef's getup, head for the
hills.  If picking popcorn out of your undergarments and dodging cotton
candy wasn't enough, Bigtop tosses out pie shells filled with
marshmallow fluff at the end of their set!  Many, many pie shells.  If that's
your bag, hey, go for it.  I, however, draw the line at spun sugar.  The
verdict though on Bigtop?  Two thumbs up and an extra scoop of soap in
the laundry this week.

Saturday Night

       I started off the second night at about 7pm - caught the majority of
the Royal Pendletons' set.  Tooling around that day, the friends I was with
sung the praises of the Royal Pendletons, and I was not at all let down.
Energetic as all get out, and with truly spiffy jackets to boot, the RP's (who
hail from New Orleans, I gather) started off the night on a good foot.
Literally.  Again, here's a band who I know nothing about, so I can't rattle
off a set list, but I can tell you that they banged out a great version of the
Fun Things' "Savage" for their last number.

       Impala were up next.  Now here's a band I was really excited to see!
I purchased their Kings of the Strip ep on a whim when it came out and
had been looking forward to seeing them ever since.  They were supposed
to play Maxwells after their Sleazefest appearance last year - but for
whatever reason, the gig never materialized and this girl was still left
wanting.  Man, like all good things though, Impala were truly worth the
wait.  The sleazy '50s strip joint aesthetic that their records capture oh-so-
well came off like a charm live (despite their introduction as a "surf
band"!?!?!?!).  From where I was standing, it looked like everyone was
going berserk, dancing up a storm.  I'd recommend that you see this band
if you ever ever ever get even the remotest chance.

       Hmm, next band up was Nashville Pussy - my vote for the snooze
of the night.  Granted, they did have two ridiculously hot chicks in hip
huggers and string bikini tops slugging away at bass and guitar, so I am
quite sure that my opinion is up for debate by those XY chromosomers in
attendance.  The singer and drummer, however, were proud graduates of
the Meatloaf School of Beauty, and the music was that hard rock shit that
made "ironic indie classic rockers" like Raging Slab so unappealing to me.
Different strokes or something...

       Which of course, leads me to the next band - The (fabulous)
Woggles.  Yikes - where do I start?  First of all, this was the last of their
few shows as a 5 piece, seeing as how George was back and Zorko had a
few more appearance left on his dance card. The crowd was ready to
shake a tail feather in a big important way and the temperature in the club
shot up and all was right with the world.  As Lady Luck would have it,
disappointment was not in the stars!!  The fact that the band managed to
keep the spotlite whilst competing for attention with any number of
nearly nude bouncing girls (the "sleaze" aspect of the evening I think)
sharing the stage with them remains a testament to their innate and
bossest of talent. The club's technical problems during their set were
overshadowed by (pick one): Manfred swinging out over the audience on
a projector screen, George being carried out into the audience by two
strapping lads, Manfred scaling the velvet curtain hanging on the side
wall, an overall stellar performance, or those shirts!  As much as I miss my
auto mechanic in Oakland CA (Terry at Kohl's Garage), I sleep well at
night knowing that living on the East Coast affords me the chance to see
the Woggles on a semi-regular basis.

       The Swingin' Neckbreakers were up next;  this was probably the
finest post-Shaggy set I've seen yet.  I can't tell you what songs they
played, but I can tell you that their set actually varied from times I've seen
them in the past!  Not only that, but it was amazing. I don't have any beef
with them putting "The Girl Can't Dance/Look Away" on mothballs for a
few months, but I'd be truly bummed if they stopped doing that swell
cover of "The Girl Can't Help It."   Jeff is doing a fantastic job - and I have
to admit that my interest in this band - which was waning there for a few
months - has been renewed.

       Which leads up to Saturday night's finale - Southern Culture on the
Skids.  This being their town and all, the two times that I've seen them
here have definitely been the best I've seen this band (and that's saying a
lot).  By this point, mentioning that the club was a little slice of hell
temperature wise seems moot.  To be honest, I don't even remember what
songs they played.  Chaos! Mayhem! In no particular order, the audience
was pelted with silly string, fried chicken and watermelon.  A woman
introduced as Mary Huff's mother came out and really shook her stuff to
"Daddy Was a Preacher and Mama Was a Go-Go Girl"!  Santos and
friends wrestled away!  I somehow wound up with mud all over my legs!

       Once again, Sleazefest was a resounding success in my book;  this
year even managed to top '94!  I was really bummed that I'd be missing
the Hate Bombs (who I really dug at Maxwells in May) on Sunday night,
but the big boss man at work had me on a short leash, and Monday
morning was an ugly reality.  Sure, the weekend is just one fantastic blur,
but the music was great, and so were the folks I met and the ones I got to
be better friends with - and all I can say is  - LOOK OUT '97!!!! --- LF

Now for the gentleman...

Sleazefest '96 or Cornporn Caligula

       For my big vacation this year, me, Larry Higgs, & Annie Rikardson
drove down to Chapel Hill and Sleazefest in Annie's 1969 Cadillac Hearse.
That's right, a road trip with "Amazing" Larry & "Crazy" Annie.  Sounds
like a Peter Fonda movie doesn't it? It was somewhere down in Maryland
that a gas station attendant asked Larry if it was a real hearse.  Larry
replied, "It's retired.  Now it's just a big black station wagon."
       We arrived at the Local 506 at 5pm Thursday, a full 24 hours before
the festivities were set to begin.  We went in to pick up our tickets and
were immediately asked which band we were. Cool.  We did not have
tickets for Saturday,  the big night with the Woggles, Swinging
Neckbreakers and Southern Culture.  The plan: schmooze the bands we
knew to get in as their guests, or, have Annie schmooze Rick & Mary from
SCOTS to have them get us in.  Either way I was confident we would be
inside on Saturday night.
       Out for dinner on Thursday night we ran into Jim "Club"
McKenna.  We ended up at the Cave, a nice little basement club where
some of the Sleazefest acts were doing other gigs.  That night was some
local singer/songwriter James Taylor wanna-be and his fat chick fan club.
We decided there would be plenty of time for listening to good music and
drinking over the weekend, so we called in a night.
       Walking around Chapel Hill on Friday was kind of a bummer.  All
the college kids were coming back, and I was remembering how much I
didn't like college towns, even when I lived in one.  It picked up towards
the end of the afternoon when we ran into Jim Club again, but this time
not in a bar!  We were checking out the local thrift stores and I picked up a
beautiful white tuxedo jacket for $4 and a Kinks album, along with some
Planet of the Apes novels for my friend Ava.  At the store where I picked
up the Kinks rekkid, the guy behind the counter asked if we were in town
for Sleazefest.  Was it that obvious?  We told him we had driven down
from New York in a 1969 Cadillac Hearse and his eyes lit up.    "I
heard about y'all.  They said a hearse pulled up to the 506 at 5:00
yesterday afternoon and then     Sleazefest had officially begun," he
said.That was very cool.  Well, we then hoofed back to our hotel to get
changed for the first night of Sleazefest 96.  The first band I saw was Jack
Black. After all the times they played in New York,  I realized that I had
never really seen them before.  They've got a really big sound to them, sort
of like Rev. Horton Heat. There was couple that came up from St.
Petersburg, mainly to see Jack Black.  They seemed to know the guys in
the band already. Next up were the Sub-Sonics.  Pretty cool.  Seemed a lot
of the bands Friday night had a big drum sound and the Subsonics were
no exception.  They also had the sexiest chick drummer at the show.
Mmm, leopard skin.  A local band that had recently re-formed played
next, The Bad Checks.  They sounded a lot like Jack Black to me and they
did a great raunchy version of "Something Else". (Does everyone cover
that song at one point in their career?) The minus was that they did some
Led Zeppelin cover for their last song.  I'd don't think it was joke either.
Yecch.   Simon and the Barsinisters hit the stage next, sans bass these days.
Sez Simon, "My band was becoming a jail"  cause he couldn't do all the
songs he wanted, since his bass players just couldn't keep up.  It was
Annie's birthday and Simon did a revved up "Walk With Me Annie"
while Ms. Rikardson danced in the Go-Go cage on stage.  They were
followed by the Flat Duo Jets.  Now I love Dex's albums, but the live thing
just leaves me cold.  However the energy was so great at Sleazefest, that
even the Flat Duo Jets were great.  I opted to hang in the bar and watch on
TV while smoking cigars and trying to make time with the lovely Miss
Katie, the Cigarette Girl.  Didn't get too far, but I did get a damn fine
cigar.
Y'know, it's funny, when you smoke cigar, it's turns you into a
complaining, know-it-all old codger.  "Let me tell what's wrong with
Chapel Hill, you can't get a decent pastrami sandwich in the whole damn
town!"
       Early in the evening Scott from Jack Black send he'd try to get us in
for Saturday, ditto with Simon, but Rick and Mary showed and Annie
managed to get tix for her, Larry, me and Jim.  Kudos Annie.
       I decided I didn't want to get too burnt out the first night and
decided to head back to the hotel room early and miss the last band Big
Top.  Big mistake. Big Top are more a spectacle than band.  The lead
singer is a Gacy-esque clown, right down to his four finger gloves. No one
I talked to about Big Top even mentioned the music.  The clowns, fire
breather and cotton candy, sure. Larry said that they sounded more
hardcore punk than anything else.  I'm kinda glad that I missed it, cause I
don't think I would have gotten the joke.
       Woke up Saturday morning, without a hangover, but I did have
Barsinisters.  Simon and the Barsinisters, that is, sleeping on the floor.
Simon took us over to Breadmen's, this really great home cooking joint not
too far away from the main drag, and we feasted.  I would have picked up
the check, but my Teen Scene expense account only covered chicken wings
and potato logs.  As we were leaving, we ran into the Lovely Lisa Furlong
who was waiting for the Woggles.  Simon & the Woggles like this place?
What more recommendation do you need ?!
       After lunch it was more thrifting, and back to the Local 506 in time
to catch the Bent Scepters.  These guys were the big find for me.  Out of all
the bands that I'd never seen before, these guys were the best.  Dressed in
60's era racing gear, they looked like the house band from the
Elvis/Nancy Sinatra movie Spin Out. All their originals kind of sounded
like songs I already liked. I could hear a Woggles/Smugglers/Fleshtones
sound to them.  Then when they covered "Screaming Skull", I was
vindicated...then into "Dirty Robber" and finished up with "New
Orleans".  After their set I was talking to lead singer guy Dan Roberson,
and he said that Hexbreaker was one of his all time fave rekkids.  A
kindred spirit.  The Royal Pendletons were up next,  they're great and all
but, I didn't want to burn out so I kinda hung in the back then went next
door for dinner and missed Impala completely.  However I did make it
back for the Woggles.  It was during the Woggles that they had the Go-Go
competition for the King & Queen of Sleazefest .  I was in the back getting
a drink and Jim pointed up to the TV and we saw "The Amazing" Larry
Higgs dancing in the cage with a girl was NEKKID!  Larry smile was so
wide, I thought his head was gonna split in two.In between I ran into Tom
Jorgenson, of the Swinging Neckbreakers, in the crowd.  I told him he
better not be thinking of slacking off just cause he wasn't in New York.  If I
felt they weren't giving it their all I was gonna report them to Telstar HQ.
Funny thing: as it turns out, Toddaphonic Todd and Cheryl gave me a lift
back to 'Boken after the Neckbreakers/Muffs show at Coney Island High
that following Wednesday.  I was telling them how weird it was that the
Neckbreakers totally ripped it up at Sleazefest and had everyone dancing,
but in NYC opening for the Muffs most of the crowd was busy shoe
gazing and heckling them.  Anyhow - after the Neckbreakers it was time
for Southern Culture on the Skids.  It was a regular Kepone Caligula.
Chicken and watermelon flying all around, semi-naked girls on stage,
inflatable fuck dolls being bounced around the crowd like beachballs and
did I mention the naked girls?  Yee-Haw!  SCOTS pretty much stuck to
their faster, raunchier stuff, like 8-Piece Box, Kudzu Limbo and of course
Santo.  They'd planned to do all this wrestling stuff on stage, but the floor
was a slippery and the people were all gooey, so good sense won out and
they just stuck to simple debauchery.  As fun and greasy as SCOTS are
when you see 'em on tour, that's nothing compared to when they cut loose
in front of their friends. Well, we all stunk pretty bad, so it was back to the
room for showers and snoring.
       The last night I showed up around 6:00. We all were shocked on
how clean they'd gotten the club after the previous night's debauchery.
There was some country swing band on.  Pretty good, but not the kind of
thing I'm gonna sit and watch. Not as many people showed up on Sunday
night, but just as well.  It was all the people that I liked.  I really
didn't get
to see the bands that much, most of Sunday night was spent taking picture
and exchanging addresses. (If you're ever in Nashville, you can stay with
me...) It wasn't until the Hate Bombs that I made back into the band room.
Let me just say this once and let me make it clear: THE HATE BOMBS
RULE!  They were so fucking good it make we hurt.  People were dancing
up a storm and when they went into Go-Go-Gorilla I  jumped onto the Go-
Go cage and hung off it like a monkey.  For the big  finale of Sunday, it
was the Cowslingers.  I was telling people how much I liked the
Cowslingers and how good they were and they did not disappoint.  I'd
never really seen them get the reaction they deserve in NYC, but on the
other side of the Mason-Dixon line, it was a different story.  They had the
whole crowd dancing and even were shooting off fireworks during "Strip
Bars, Liquor & Fireworks"  You could never do that in a New York club.
They finished off with their rockabilly version of "Sweet Emotion".
       Well after the Cowslingers, the bartender put on Ramones-Mania
and people kept dancing.  It was like on Lost in Space, when they go to the
planet of the teenagers.  A siren goes off and people start dancing on the
pool tables.  Groo-vy.  Finally we had to stop for air.  Outside it was more
hugs and kisses goodbye and then back to the Carolina Inn one last time.
Woke up around 6 am to go to the bathroom.  I looked over at Annie's bed
and realized that it was not her in the bed, but rather Ginger, the 21-year-
old goth beauty who had been crowned Queen of Sleazefest.  She won
because of her poise, her grace and charm, and the g-string and pasties she
had fashioned out of Sleazefest '96 bumper stickers.
       As I looked at her lying in the bed next to me I couldn't help but
think, "Great job, God, but you're off by about five feet."  Truth was Annie
had offered Ginger and her boyfriend the cot in our hotel room, while
Annie slept in the hearse.  One of the valets got in the hearse to move it
while Annie was sleeping, she got up and asked "May I help you". The
poor kid shit his pants.
       Somewhere around 2:00 pm we hit the road.  We had a couple of
Fester's following behind us on the highway, with their lights on, making
for a high speed funeral procession on Rte. 95.  We did stop for dinner
during rush hour and happened upon a Krispy Kreme.  For those of you
who don't know, KK is a donut shop.  The difference is that each facility
doesn't just make donuts for that shop, but for the supermarkets in the
area, and runs 24 hours a day.  These means you can walk in any time and
get a dozen "Hot Donuts".  These are donuts right out of the oil, glazed
with sugar and puffed hot.  You have to eat them with a napkin they are
so hot.  Easily the best donuts ever.  Hot puffed dough glazed with sugar.
There is no nutritional reason for a food like this. This is a statement, not a
put-down.  Here's the best part, though: I heard the other day that a
Krispy Kreme opened up in New York.  Next door to Midnight Records.
Vinyl and donuts, mmm-mmm. --- EF

--------------------------------------------
Top 9 Driving In A Hearse Songs
--------------------------------------------

Endless Tunnel - Fleshtones
Rockin Bones   -  Ronnie Dawson
Mouthful of Exhaust - Man or Astroman?
5-0 Ford - Rev. Horton Heat
One Piece At A Time - Cowslingers
Our Motor Needs Gas - Fleshtones
Soul Finger - Bar Kays (?)
American Pie - The Brady Bunch Kids
Surfin Hearse (Natch) - Untamed Youth
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
STUFF THAT SUCKS

       ***I usually like to have some time to reflect on things before I write
about them.  I want to try and gain some perspective.  Still, some stories
need to be  told when the fire is still blazing hot.  This one I'm writing a
day after it happened.  I wanted to write it when I got home, but I was just
too exhausted.  So I'm doing it now.***
       Some out there probably think putting out a 'zine is no big deal.
And, in truth, back in the good old days, when I was doing this thing
monthly, with only four to eight pages and no layout, well, it wasn't real
tough.  Now, though, the 'zine is thick... the last one clocked in at 317K in
text alone.  And that was the e-mail version... the print edition had an
extra page of text, as I'd ended up with an odd number of pages.  Teen
Scene #55 took me a full week just to scan photos and lay them out.  And I
made (as this story will show) some fatal errors.

       I did the whole last issue's layout on a cartridge for my Zip drive,
making copies on my hard drive and another cartridge, just in case.  I kept
all the files, both text and pictures, in folders in each spot, too.  Gotta be
careful.  Then I also put any software necessary on those cartridges.  Once
done, I went down to Rutgers Grad School of Education computer room to
print it out on their laser printer.
       This was problem the first.  See, as it turns out, they've made sure
at this point that users cannot add any software... well, at least on most of
the machines.  I eventually found one that would let me put stuff on it.
All I really needed was a font suitcasing utility, plus Adobe Type
Manager.  Unfortunately, they didn't seem to have ATM and neither did I.
But I decided to forge on.
       For some reason, though, the dang thing was hanging up on me in
various places.  I had absolutely no idea why.  I figured that the problem
board saying "Is there something wrong with the printer?" might be
playing a part.  Whatever.  Or maybe it was the lack of ATM.
       So I called up a couple friends with Macs and laser printers
available to them.  Tuesday morning, I got in touch with Pete Ciccone
(guitar/vocals for the Vacant Lot).  He told me to come over to his place in
Brooklyn around 1.  So off I went.
       I got lucky, too... a parking spot across the street.
       We plopped my Zip cartridge in his drive and he got to work.
Well, after about 20-30 minutes, it became apparent that there was trouble.
It wasn't printing out the pics.  JPEGs, as it turns out, take a while to
decode.  So Pete started doing a few workarounds, doing the voodoo he
does so well.  By around 3, he had it to the point where it was ready to
print most of the pages (although not the front or a couple others.)  So we
went out, I bought a ream of paper and got us a small pizza to munch on.
Interestingly, Pete had said that, if the stationery store didn't have the
paper, we'd need to drive somewhere else.  Too bad they had it.  (But
we'll get to that part later.)
       Well, we got back to his place and it soon became apparent that
other problems existed.  First off, some pages were coming up as garbage.
Turns out I shouldn't use certain fonts that come with the system.
(Nothing like a learning experience, huh?)  And, as I said, those JPEGs
were a major problem.  I'd only used them because I wanted to scan at as
high a resolution as I could (which blows up the file size beyond belief).
Not being a pro, I didn't realize some of the finer points of scanning and
publishing.    As it turns out, this was gonna cost me... big time.
       Finally, around 5:15, I could see light at the end of the tunnel.  Sure,
some of those pics were more jagged than I'd hoped, but that was my fault
for using JPEGs.  And, after all the time I'd spent on this, not to mention
Pete's whole afternoon, I was not about to go home, re-scan everything as
TIFFs and do the whole dang layout again.  No blinkin' way!
       As I contemplated which route I'd take to get from Brooklyn to the
Garden State during rush hour, I glanced out the window in the direction
of my Smurfmobile.  One problem... it was gone.  As was every other car
that had been around it.  I had a sneaking suspicion that the sign had said
something slightly different than what I'd thought.
       At this point, I figured Roberta would probably be arriving home.
Seeing the new complications, I figured she'd want a call even more than
she would have before this.  I broke the news.  Then I called the NYC
towing types.  My car was at the impound lot at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
I called them up to confirm and they said that it was, indeed, there, and
that'd be $150, get here before 9 PM, thank-you-very-much.  So, once Pete
finished printing the mag out, we walked down to a car service.  On our
way down, though, I took a look at that sign.  Turns out that I'd misread
it... I'd thought it said, "No Parking, 4PM - 7 PM, Mon Thur Fri."  But, see,
I'd only glanced at it, thinking that, as it was only about 12:40 when I
parked, that I'd be out of there by 3 PM the latest.  Had I read it a bit
closer, I would've realized that it said "Mon Thru Fri."  That's  a pretty big
difference.  Anyway, we got the car and soon enough, we were there.
       As it turns out, they only let the driver in.  So I continued on,
though the gate, following the fenced-in path to the guard in front of a
squat one-story, function-before-form, light blue building.  I waited on
line for only about 10 minutes.  Not bad, I thought.
       Soon I was one hundred and fifty dollars poorer.  Green receipt in
hand, I went back outside to the guard I'd seen going in, who told me to
sit on the bench next to another gentlemen and wait for the other guard.
In about 10 minutes, he arrived to take me, the other guy, and a third
gentleman inside the lot to get our cars.  Soon I saw my beloved junk-
heap.  I went over, opened the door... hmm?  It was unlocked?  Not when I
left it, it wasn't.  When I park in NYC, I not only lock it, but I double-check
to make sure.
       Whatever.  I put the key in the ignition, turn it and... NOTHING!
Try again.  Nothing.  Again.  "This," I thought, "is not good."  I checked to
see if the car was in Park or Neutral.  It was in Park.  It wasn't that.  That
was bad.  I looked around.  Hmm... the lights were switched to parking
lights.  I'd left it in the OFF position.  I hadn't even turned them on that
day.  Well, at least now I knew it was my battery.  All I needed was a jump
start.  I called the guard over and he said to talk to the pound assistant.
But I saw another guy who worked there.  He said he'd go get a guy to
help out.  Well, about 15 minutes later, the guy comes out and says they
weren't doing it anymore.  I was under the impression that he was telling
me they had some arbitrary time where they didn't jump-start cars any
more, each day.  So I went inside.
       So, another ten minutes go by.  I'm once again at the window, same
guy I'd seen before.  "What's wrong now?"  I told him.  I said that all I
needed was a jump-start and I'd be on my way.  Could they please have
someone do this for me?
       "No."
       Huh?
       Well, they don't give people jump-starts.
       "So," I thought to myself, "let's try something else."  I asked if
they'd let someone else come in and jump-start my car.  (A woman who
was there offered to do it.)
       "No."  (They don't allow people to bring their cars in and help out.)
       OK, then... "Can I push it out to the street and let her help me out
there?"
       "No."  (They said I might have a heart attack pushing it out.)
       The woman asked if we could pull it out, using her car.
       "No, you can't bring your car in."
       I asked what I was supposed to do.
       "Call for a tow truck.  I'll give you the number."
       That brought about another idea on my part.  "Can I just call
AAA?"
       He thought for a second... "No."
       (Now I'm wondering why he said "the" number.)  I called him on
this.  He told me they only allowed one company to come in and tow
people out.  I told him that this seemed like a scam.  He shrugged.  I asked
him to write down the tow company's number.  Then I asked to speak to
his boss.
       His  boss came out, I went through the whole rigamarole again.  He
said he'd call his superiors.  (I guess this was the head guy.)  He went
away for about 10 minutes.  Then he came back and said none of my
proposals was allowed.  I asked him for his name.  He gave it to me.  And
his work number.  OK, I had that.  Then I asked for the names of his
superiors... and their numbers.  He wouldn't give them to me.  I tried for a
few minutes, then realized I was getting nowhere and I'd have to go
through other channels on that score.  That would have to wait.  For now,
my problem was getting my car moving.  So I called the number.  The guy
told me it'd be about 20 minutes.  Oh yeah, and it'll be $50 - CASH!  I told
him I only had $40 on me.  I told him all he'd really be doing was towing
me less than a tenth of a mile, then giving me a quick jump.  Nope, the
minimum is $50.  But he'd tow me to a cash machine and not charge me
any extra.
       Now, by this time, we'd been there nearly an hour.  I went and told
Pete (who was waiting extremely patiently outside) what was going on.
So we sat and waited by the entrance for another twenty minutes.  Finally,
Mr. Tow Guy comes.  As it turned out, we saved a little time, 'cuz Pete
had some cash and lent me what I needed.
       We go in, he tells the people in the building he's here.  Oh yeah,
and he's gotta tow another guy there out, too.  (Something sure seems
rotten down there at the old impound lot.)  He tows me out.  He says he
hopes I've got cables, 'cuz he doesn't.   Luckily, those are still in the
car.  (I
thought maybe someone had gone and cleaned out the hatch while they
were putting the lights on.)
       Finally, we're outside.  He gives me the jump and I'm homefree.
$200 poorer, but home free.  I went back inside to help out a kid who
needed a licensed driver to drive his car out of the lot, then it was off to
the bank so I could repay Pete.
       Oh yeah, that $200 doesn't include the parking ticket.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
GOOD FRIENDS

       I could write some boring philosophical treatise about friendship.
None of that really would mean anything, though, without something
real; something that shows what a friend is.
       I don't see as much of Pete Ciccone as I used to back when The
Vacant Lot were a major presence on the NYC rock-n-roll scene (they've
been laying low for a bit, but lots is planned).  It's a combination of things,
I guess:  the band hasn't played many gigs since the new lineup was put
together; Pete doesn't come to see as many shows as he once did; and...
neither do I.
       However, Pete and I have been friends for a long time.  As such,
we've helped each other out in the past.  I've journeyed from my home
near the Meadowlands in the past over to Brooklyn to pick the band's
equipment up and drive it to shows in central NJ, Pennsylvania, and DC.
Pete has helped me out with numerous projects, including major steps in
the evolution of this 'zine:  he did the first real cover page I ever had (TS
#47-48); when Quisp got too busy last summer with work and couldn't do
layout for #53, Pete stepped in and gave me all the tools necessary; and,
yesterday, for #55, he was there again.
       As I mentioned earlier, I needed #55 printed out.  Things had gone
wrong at Rutgers and I needed someone to help me who actually had a
clue.  I tried Pete that night,  but he wasn't in.  I tried him again yesterday
morning and, as I said, he told me to show up around 1.
       When I did, we soon learned that I'd made a few not-too-piddling
errors.  Unfortunately, this meant that the printout was NOT going to take
the 30-45 minutes I'd thought.  OK.  As we hit the one hour mark, I asked
Pete if I could run out and get him a sandwich.  He said no.  But by 3 or
so, a pizza was in order.
       Now, Pete designs album and CD covers and booklets as his
livelihood.  Any time spent with me is time taken out of his day; time he
could be working on projects he has deadlines on.  But he never
complained at all.  At any time, he could have just said I should go home,
re-scan every picture I needed as a TIFF, put them all back in, change any
fonts that weren't working, then come back when it was done.  (Note: this
probably would've meant another couple days, at the very least, with the
problems I'd been running into, and I needed this done.)  Instead, he just
kept at it.  Not only that, but he was really great about explaining what I
had done wrong and how I could get it right the next time.
       Then, when the whole towing fiasco hit, he actually stuck with me.
He could've easily just washed his hands of it all right then and there.
Instead, he walked me down to the car service and took me down there.
(If you've ever been in this situation, you know how nice it is to know
someone's there with you.)  And then he wouldn't even let me pay for the
car service (I guess 'cuz he knew how much I was gonna have to shell out
to get my car out.)  Then, when I was gone inside for 45 minutes, leaving
him waiting outside (they wouldn't let him in), he didn't even complain
once I came out.  Then he lent me the extra cash I needed to pay the guy
who towed me out of the impound lot.
       When I got home, Roberta knew the whole story.  She'd left a
message trying to find out what was going on.  Pete called her back as
soon as he got in, telling her everything that had happened.
       So, this is a public thank you to Pete.  Not only does he write,
record, and play some of the best songs I know, but he is a fantastic friend
and a superb human being.  Thank you, Pete.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE SPLASH FOUR

       My first experience with The Splash 4 came early this summer,
when I received a package from France with some damn cool stuff (Slow
Slushy Boys, etc.), including their "No One But You" 45 on Larsen.  As the
months have flown by, I can't really remember how I got in touch with the
group's singer, Jacko, but we kept in touch via e-mail and he kindly put
the rest of the band's 45s in the mail.  Right now, I'd like to apologize to
him for not getting this thing out in September... or asking him any real,
interview-like questions.  I guess I can partially blame that on the
inferiority complex I've got as an interviewer.  Some people seem to be
able to get a ton of great stuff to gush from a band like Old Faithful, but...
well, if you read the raw material for an interview I did with Insomniacs'
drummer Mike Sin for Foster Child, you'd probably understand my
hesitation.  It's something I'm gonna have to work on.  It's a good
thing Jacko also sent along a bunch of press release type stuff, including
an interview mutual pal Laurent Bigot did for MRR.  Of course, the
materials also included a whole bunch of material in French, a language I
haven't looked at much in the last ten years (and I wasn't all that good at it
to start, tho' my prof seemed to think I was... Hmm, maybe I should've
kept at it.)
       So let's give it a go.  The band formed in the Fall of '94, when Lili
moved to Paris from Switzerland.  Jacko is a record collector into, as Bill
Kelly might say (although possibly without quite as wide a definition),
REAL rock and roll from the 50s to the present, including, of course, '60s
garage wildness and '70s punk mayhem.  These last two play the strongest
part in influencing the group's sound.  Although modern fans are more
likely to hear the latter than the former, it's the 60s that gave them their
name, as they combined the fact that there were four members with a
favored 13th Floor Elevators' track, "Splash 1."  While they have these
roots, they've developed a sound incredibly in tune with today's garage
scene, most especially Teengenerate, The Rip-Offs, and The Devil Dogs.
(Hmm... all broken-up groups, aren't those?  Well, they were all still
together when the band formed, anyway.)
       Perhaps the best way to talk about the band is to go through their
45s, all of which, I believe, were recorded at Toe Rag in London in August
of '95.  Unfortunately, none of them seem to have been pressed in editions
of more than 1000.  No problem, though, as Jacko says, "The whole session
and extra songs will be on a CD on Barn Homes/1+2 in Tokyo due in
December."
       While these all come from one session, we'll take them in the order
they were released.  First, the Funbangers EP (11/95), leading off with the
title track, a gritty, dirty instro that serves as an excellent introduction to
the band's identity.  "Take A Ride" brings Jacko into the picture on a very
Devil Dogs-like number, with the riff singing along.  This one's a
particular favorite of mine.  It's more traditional rock'n'roll.  Not as
torn as
The Rip-Offs or as choppy as The Statics, but it's definitely playing in that
division.  Gotta love the way Lili kicks in with a cool buzz-wired guitar
bit.  Of the other two tracks, my favorite is a cover of The Boys' "Living In
The City," somehow giving forth a slight Birdman vibe, possibly due to
Lili's guitar sound, but also 'cuz of  the group vocal shouts.
       The next 45, "No One But You" 45 (02/96), is probably my favorite.
It's much more garage than anything else they've done.  It heads straight
down that alley for the 1-3 pocket.  Stee-Rike!  Simple and straighforward,
it's gotta be a fan favorite.  "I Can See But You Don't Know" continues on
in the same vein, resonating deeply in my garage-punk heart.  It's slower,
but that just makes it all the more effective.  There's a bit more melody, all
in the guitar, as the vocals are rough-edged (tho' the background vox are
kinda cool, esp.  the back-of-the-cave part at the end.)
       The other two have much more in common with the first 45.  It's
"The Girl With No Brain" (03/96), though, that I prefer.  This one comes on
strong and hard, showing a bunch who know their own mind.  This is the
kinda stuff you have no choice but to crank loud and annoy the neighbors
with.  It's not that you're necessarily trying to annoy the Nosy Nan next
door, it's just that the only way you can get the full effect is to blow the
doors off both your apartments.  It doesn't end there, though, thanks to
the killer "She's Too Young" which is about... well, "1-2-3-4, She's Too
Young!"  Yeah, for just about anything your nasty little mind happens to
be contemplating.  It's loud and brash, propelled fast and furiously, with
the charge led by Lili's superb guitar-slinging.  "Action" slows things
down a wee bit, as some garage ideas peek through in the same way they
sometimes did with the Devil Dogs and Teengenerate.  Once again, I love
the guitar solo, wobbling almost drunkenly on a tightrope for an
extremely cool effect.  I actually like it better than the faster stuff.
       Yeah, it's about time we stopped slinging mud in France's direction,
'cuz they've given us The Splash 4, a worthy successor to The Devil Dogs
and Teengenerate.  So, pick up the singles if you can find 'em, or check out
that disc on Barn Homes that's due out soon.  In the meantime, there's
another single that should be ready on Roto around the time you read this,
with a cover of Unnatural Axe's "Summertime."  Plus they're probably
gonna do an Estrus single.  Add 'em to Lili's other band, The No Talents,
along with The Slow Slushy Boys and Steve & The Jerks and we've got a
virtual French Invasion.

-----------------
Discography
-----------------

-LONG FINGER OLIVE / LIVIN IN THE CITY / FUNBANGERS/ TAKE
A RIDE - 11/95 EP ROYAL Rds (FR) 1000 copies (red vinyl).  Another 100
copies exist with a different sleeve handscreened by Olaf )
-NO ONE BUT YOU / I CAN SEE BUT YOU DON'T KNOW - 02/96 45 t.
LARSEN Rds (FR)  500 copies
-GIRL WITH NO BRAIN / SHE'S TOO YOUNG / ACTION - 03/96 EP
WILD WILD Rds (FR). 1st press. 500 copies w/button, 2nd press. 500
copies no button
-DIFFERENT / LITTLE PINK DRESS - 5/96 45 t. ROCKAROLLA Rds
(FR). 500 copies (little pink vinyl)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

PRINTED MATTER

       I'm kinda surprised I didn't get around to reviewing Evil Eye #19
last ish.  It certainly came out in time.  Probably missed it 'cuz I already
had one ish of the EE already dealt with therein and I was kinda sick of
apologizing for how late I was with the ish already.  Unfortunately, this
may be the last Evil Eye for some time.  Which makes this the second ish
in a row where I've gotta say goodbye to a 'zine I enjoy.  Who knows,
maybe we'll get one more before editor Larry Grogan decides to pack up
the presses.  Actually, Larry's not going anywhere; he's just changing
focus.  Larry's readership knows that he has two passions, both of which
came forth in the 'zine:  music and politics.  Well, Mr. Grogan has decided
that he needs to concentrate on the socio-political side of his writing for
awhile.  Honestly, I understand, what with some of the crap that's going
on in the world today.  Unlike Larry, however, I'm neither a skillful writer
nor am I informed enough to work on that kinda thing.  (Not to mention
that I don't have the passion Larry does for it.)
       All that said, what's in Numero 19?  Well, actually, a whole lot.
Larry went back to the full-size format for this one.  (He'd gone down to
digest size with #11), for one thing.  This time you'll get a short interview
with Ian Anderson (honestly, I've never been a Jethro Tull fan, but to each
his/her own), an article on bluesman Roy Bookbinder, a bit on The Robbs
(described by Larry as combining "pure pop, folk rock and just a touch of
garage edge."), The Walker Brothers, yet another installment of Bill
Luther's "History of the British Indies" (this time touching down on
Planet Records, including two personal favorites by The Creation), and a
whole piece on The House of Vibes (the Grip Weeds recording studio
where many local NJ groups have been recording, including The Swingin'
Neckbreakers).  There are also mini-features on a few others, including
Stereolab, The Ghost Rockets, & The Element 79.  And, as per usual, a
whole bunch of reviews.  This could be it, folks, so send your two bucks to
Evil Eye, c/o Grogan, 3 Tulip Ct., Jackson, NJ  08527.
([email protected])
       Maybe this is dropout season.  Last time around, I told you about a
new 'zine on the scene, Pinto, by Ted Liebler.  Well, looks like Ted's ready
to put his mag in storage for a bit, too.  YEESH!  Anyway, I'm not gonna
get into it here.  Actually, I'm not sure I know why he's packing it in at the
moment... maybe just a time thing.  Pinto #2 is much like its predecessor:
it's a very personal 'zine.  What's on Ted's mind and in his life is where
the 'zine goes.  It just so happens that his musical tastes intersect my own
at various points, evidenced by reviews of The Amazing World of Joe
Meek, a Mystic Eyes disc, (to dip back in time a bit), The Soup Dragons
Hang Ten, and a book on the Beach Boys.  Ted also talks about other
aspects of his life, including his "commercial radio experience"
(something I think many college radio DJs, myself included, have
pondered, but few have actually tried) and his current job at a chain store
(especially enjoyable is the store's terminology).  Send $2 to Ted Liebler,
5517 Whitehall St., Midland, MI  48642.
       Next stop is a 'zine that's been going for quite a while.  Actually,
many of us wondered last year if we'd heard the last of Foster Child, for
various reasons.  (None of your beeswax, Nosy.)  As it turns out, though,
Tony Miller's still going strong.  Number 21 features interviews/articles
with Jeff Dahl, Billy Hancock (long and interesting, though Tony tells me
it was edited down quite a bit from the original), and The Queers.  And, as
per usual, there's a gazillion reviews, a huge percentage of which come
courtesy of The Platterpuss (who, by the way, is considering semi-
retirement.  Let's talk him out of it.)  You'll find that most of the reviews
(especially those by The Puss and Tony) will be right up the alley of Teen
Scene enthusiasts.  Send $2 to Foster Child, 7635 Marcy Ct., Glen Burnie,
MD  21060.  ([email protected])
       August 6th, now, and I just got ish #10 of Kick Out The Jams in
today's mail.  It looks like a damn cool 'zine, what with
articles/interviews on/with tons of today's top garage-punk combos,
including such Teen Scene faves as The Insomniacs and The Perverts.
Only one real problem with KOTJ - it's in Spanish and I can't read the
flippin' thing.  The best I can do is hand it over to Roberta and have her
translate.  And, since this thing is almost 70 pages long, I'm guessing she's
just not gonna be into reading to me like some little kid.  But if you speak
Spanish, this is something you'll probably end up reading cover to cover.
I'd try sending $5 to Kick Out the Jams, c/o Oscar Garcia, PO Box 4042,
47013 Valladolid, SPAIN.
       I'd have to dig pretty damn deep into the Teen Scene archives to
find out the last time I reviewed an ish of Jersey Beat in these pages.  (And,
let's face it, I'm just way too lazy to bother.)  Maybe it's 'cuz JB ed. Jim
Testa and I travel in different musical circles, our interests intersecting
only occasionally (usually at Maxwells).  Jim's been at this 'zine business
for a long, long time now (at least twice as long as I have) and he knows
how to put together a quality publication.  #57 is his longest yet, weighing
in at 108 newsprint-style pages with small type and a glossy cover.  Very
little of JB will be of interest to the mainstream garage devotee, but if
you're into the hardcore/punk scene, then this is one damn useful mag.
Jim also includes sections on various other musical forms, with a column
on experimental music, another on garage stuff (Jim once asked me to do
this column, but I kinda messed up and forgot to turn it in on time; too
bad, too, 'cuz it was fairly good... I even had an angle!), and Mick Hale
laying down the "techno cyber rave" vibe.  Articles and interviews on
Murphy's Law, Trip 66, and Illness (ex-members of Sweet Lizard Illtet)
and tons more.  The only thing this mag won't do is review 45s.  Those
they turn over to their sister publication, Glut.  (Of course, they also
recommend you just don't bother, 'cuz, they say,  there's just too damned
many of these friggin' 7"ers in today's world.  It's kinda hard to argue that
one.)  Send your $2 (plus postage money, if you're at all nice)  to Jersey
Beat, 418 Gregory Ave, Weehawken, NJ  07087.  E-mail [email protected]
or visit them on the WWW at http://home.earthlink.net/~jimjbeat.
       Back with us yet again is a perennial TS fave, Schlock.  As editor
John Chilson says, "If it's Summer, it must be a different format."  Sho
'nuff, newsprint is out, and 11X17 folded is in.  Personally, I don't care
how he prints it, as long as he gets it to my mailbox.  Record reviews this
time are mainly in the jazz camp, tho' "The Wax Museum" hits a few other
highlights; movies include "Point Blank" and "Who Killed Teddy Bear?"
(which I missed last year in NYC, of course... which reminds me that I'm
missing the "Rolling Stones Rock'n'Roll Circus" today.  ACK!); some 'zine
reviews (from the write-ups, Scram looks like the best of the lot) fill things
out.  The main feature is Beth Accomando's "Asian Files" (I'd like to read
some more of her stuff, she's extremely engaging), this time with her
interviewing director Stanley Tong, who's been working with Jackie Chan
for a few movies now.  Also included is "Final Flights," about planes
making their last trip (especially eerie in light of TWA Flight 800 still being
unsolved... and that a friend of mine is a TWA pilot who was pretty close
to the one who flew that plane).  John has also promised that his
"Apocalypse Coffeeshop" column will become a regular feature,
mentioning that - when he started Schlock a few years back, he was sorely
tempted to go a different route, covering "the culture of nuclear war."
While he decided not to go that route, he's definitely got some interesting
perspectives on the subject, so I'll be looking forward to more installments
on this front.  Send $1 plus a stamp to 3841 4th Avenue #192, San Diego,
CA 92103.  Write John at [email protected].
       Hanging out at Coney Island High, Brownies, or one of the other
Lower East Side rock'n'roll dives, I was handed a copy of Mini-Trend,
produced by the Goofballs gang.  They fly right in, rightfully smearing the
name of those 20-somethings (really, they oughta be busting on their
teenage brothers and sisters, as well) for sitting down during rock'n'roll
shows.  They don't go for eloquence, opting instead for the verbal
equivalent of a knuckle sandwich.  Gotta wake 'em up somehow, y'know.
The final word here:  "Goofballs is now offering a bounty of one free
round at Mugs to anyone who can produce conclusive evidence of anyone
under  30 years who has ever had fun."  Bravo!  On then to the subject of
"Band Uniforms."  No, not that creepy marching band get-up I used to
have to wear in high school, with the flippin' Q-Tip hat, but
rock'n'roll/R&B/Soul acts who knew how to dress.  And a challenge to
today's musical youth to follow suit.  (Completely unintentional pun,
that.)  Now, as you, Faithful Reader, no doubt know, your esteemed editor
(that'd be me), is a teetotaler.  However, I've always had a soft spot for the
bar/lounge culture.  I could easily digress here into the hows/whys of
that, but I'm gonna stay on subject (this time).  Another fantastic MT rant
comes on the topic of the disappearance of the little cocktail spear.  To that
end, they've taped one to the page (this way you can bring your own.)
Best thing about Mini-Trend?  It's a fanzine of the sort I used to get over
ten years ago, with checklists, ranking lists, etc.  This one features a
"Hippie Ruination List"... stuff the hippies ruined (the 60s, for one.)  Send
a buck to Mini-Trend c/o Goofballs, Box 11-187 Bedford Avenue,
Brooklyn, NY  11211.
       You'll recall my mention the last ish or two of a cool mag out of the
Estrus homeworld of Bellingham, WA called Hmmm...  Well, editor Sean
Berry's decided to hang up the spikes on that one and move on, coming at
you now with The Continental ish #1.  I keep wondering if I'm gonna do
the same thing one of these days.  After all, here I am, just about 31 now
and, after six years, still calling my mag The Teen Scene.  Still, the point
was never to chronicle the lives of actual teens, anyway.  Heck, I was
paying tribute to one of the coolest bands of the mid-late 80s period.  (Up
to you guys to figure out which one.  First person out there who writes in
and knows what I'm talking about gets a free copy of my next ish.)
Anyway, if I ever switch names, it's likely I'll go back to the name of the
stop-gap publication Matthew Kaplan and I did in early 1990, 738 MPH.  I
still like that monicker.  But we were talking about Sean's new mag,
weren't we?  Well, he's billed this one as "Bellingham's Surf-Garage-
Exotica-Indie Magazine," and that's a damned apt description, although
I'd have to say that it's much heavier on the surf-garage coolness than
anything else.  (Guess who's not complaining.)  Interviewed this time out
are The Mono Men, The Quadrajets, and 8-Ball Shifter.  Tons more stuff,
too, including a ton of reviews, as well as part one of Boss Martian Evan
Foster's "Gear Report" (focusing on amps.)  If you want to keep in touch
with the modern surf and garage scene, this mag will be a big help.  Send
$2 to The Continental, PO Box 4336, Bellingham, WA 98227-4336.  Reach
them on-line at http://www.az.com/~sberry.
       There are two great things for me about being on-line.  Firstly, of
course, I'm able to find out about tons of great music I might not otherwise
have heard about.  Plus I can discuss it with some truly knowledgeable
people.  That brings us to the second great thing:  the people, themselves.
I've met some fantastic people through alt.music.banana-truffle, the Bomp
list, Cowabunga, and Modslist.
       Steve Coleman is the genius behind the "Prepare To Enter The
Garage" web page (http://idun.unl.ac.uk/~hfa9colemas/records.htm), as
well as individual pages on The Fleshtones, The Witchdoktors, and
London's famed St. John's Tavern.  We've been in contact on and off for a
while now.  This summer, he posted to the Bomp list that he had some
early Barracudas' 45s that he was willing to part with for the price of
postage!  Well, being that I was checking my mail about 5-6 times each
day this summer, I probably saw his post before anyone else.  So I
contacted him immediately.  Instead of me paying him for the records,
Steve suggested I just send him the print version of my latest ish, which
had just come out at the time.  Personally, I took that as a great
compliment and immediately accepted.
       So, what does this incredibly fascinating story have to do with
'zines?  Well, just that Steve and I seem to be starting a fledgling trade
thing up.  He just sent me all five issues of an English mag called NGG.
I'm only gonna talk about their latest (#5), since they seem to be saying it's
been quite some time since #4.  Hmm... that story sounds familiar.
Anyway, NGG stands for Noise, Grunge, and Garage, but, except for the
reviews, ish #5 seems to be focusing hard on the garage scene,
interviewing The Green Hornets and The Witchdoktors, featuring a guest
column by the guy who books the shows at the St. John's Tavern, and
another by a pal of their's who journeyed to Australia for the Radio
Birdman reunion tour.  There's also a Man or Astro-Man? discography.  Of
course, that won't be comprehensive for more than a day or two.  Must be
that space food those guys eat.  Or maybe it's the effect of our atmosphere
on their more highly evolved anatomy.  It costs one English pound over
there, so I'd send them at least $3 if you're here in the US, to The Cottage,
Stow Bardolph, King's Lynn, Norfolk PE34 3HZ  ENGLAND.
       Feline Frenzy is one of those 'zines that's been going on since
sometime in the initial garage resurgence of the 1980s.  Of course, since
her latest is only #10, it's pretty obvious that Glynis takes a while to get
each one out.  (Which, by the way, she apologizes for each issue.)  But
because she takes her time, it means we get an enormous amount of
garage wildness to sink our fangs into.  While #9 was done partially on
computer, this one's back to the old type, cut and paste job.  Now, while
I'm obviously doing this mag with the aid of my Mac, I dig the old way, as
well, since it reminds me of all those cool mags I used to read some ten
years back.  So... what's included this time out?  Maybe a better question
would be, "What's NOT included this time out?"  This flippin' thing is a
blinkin' 106 pages long!  So quitcher bitchin' 'bout it taking so long
between issues.  You'll wait and like it.  There're a bucketload of
interviews/articles (Fortune & Maltese, Mindburger, The Galaxy Trio,
Monsters From The Surf, The Fiends, etc.)  There's a surf/instro report
featuring mini-interviews with some bands, as well as a label dedicated to
such coolness.  There's a scene report from Greece.  There's "Lo-Fi vs. High
Fuzz" (personally, I choose High Fuzz, but that could be 'cuz I've been
around for so long, couldn't it?)  There's a contest.  There's also "The Bag
I'm In," where Rich Flyps his Whig in the direction of those who've
cheesed him off.  The coolest thing about Feline Frenzy?  That's easy - it's
done in the style of 60s teen mags (pin-ups, tons of cool graphics, an
advice column, a contest, etc.)  This makes things quite enjoyable.  But,
unlike a 60s teen mag, this is chock full of worthy reading.  (Every time I
think of real 60s teen mags, I remember one I found for a quarter in
Rochester... there was this advice column written by a big brother type.
The ish is from '67 and this mid-teen gal writes in, "Dear Chuck, have you
ever smoked pot?"  Well, old Chuckie really helps this gal out with her
problem, responding, "No, but I burnt pan once."  Sure, FF has an advice
column, but at least Miss Paisley's advice has some good common sense
behind it.  And, beyond the obvious teen mag stuff, there's all that
fantastic rock'n'roll material to read about.  This one's $6 post-paid in the
US & Canada, $8 to you European folks.  Send it to 2605 39th St. NW #1,
Washington, DC 20007 USA.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
LIVE!

       As promised in last issue's 'Babble', we'll start off with a couple
shows that took place just after the writing deadline.

       On Tuesday, June 25th, I found myself at Maxwells to check out a
show I'd long been looking forward to.  Not only was Ronnie Dawson
headlining tonight, but the support act was none other than Big Sandy &
The Fly-Rite Boys.  Now, I've had a Big Sandy record for years, ever since
Tom Ward (of The Nashville Ramblers, Gravedigger Five, and tons more)
first told me about them many, many moons ago.  But, even with the
group's recent popularity, I hadn't gotten around to actually seeing them.
I was in for a treat.
       The group was more than just straight-ahead rockabilly.  They had
western swing and and a few other ideas mixed in, too.  A crackerjack
band meant that everything was pulled off to perfection.  Best yet, though
- and this is something I really love about seeing rockabilly shows - there
were a few couples dancing.  I'm not talking about shakin' and stompin',
the way my friends and I do at tons of shows, but real honest-to-goodness
dancing.  As in doing actual dance steps.  One of these days I really need
to get around to learning how to do that stuff.  It looks like a blast.
       Ronnie?  Well, put it this way... I've seen a fair amount of the old
rockabilly guys play over the years.  And the Blond Bomber is the only
one who manages to make me a true believer time after time.  Ronnie
Dawson has aged well... sure, there's some silver in that short buzzed
blond head of hair, but he's still the same long tall Texan that you see
pictures of from way back when.  More importantly, when he plays you
know he still believes that this music is vital, important... alive.  He
doesn't play like an oldies act, nostalgic for days gone by; Ronnie plays
like that show is all that matters, believing (as does his audience, myself
included) that this music will be putting smiles on people's faces for a
long, long time to come.
       At Maxwells, Ronnie's band included a guy from Holland on
guitar, plus the rhythm section from High Noon.  What a fantastic group.
Whenever Ronnie needed to change guitars, the guitarist would take the
point, playing some cool instrumental piece, and the rhythm section
joined right in.  Speaking of them... they were a real highlight.  WOW!  I
thought the bass player was great, till I heard Ms. Lisa's drumming... she
is FANTASTIC!  I'd seen her play a couple times before, but I hadn't been
paying as much attention.  She's simply incredible.  Plus, she and the bass
guy were adding some really cool backing vocals.  Once again, a great
Ronnie Dawson show.

        A few days go by and it's Friday night.  Foster Child big boss Tony
Miller drove up for this one, a big night at Brownies.  As it turned out, our
9:45 arrival caused us to miss The Human Tornados, but next up were The
Cowslingers, who I hadn't seen in a while.  Honestly, though, they
weren't doing too much for me this night.  Maybe 'cuz I needed to ease
into the evening.  I'm really kinda pissed at this 5 band in a night thing,
starting at 9.  See, those of us in NYC have been conditioned into having
our rock'n'roll shows start at 11.  We don't have to worry about 2 AM
closing times the way much of the country does.  Here it's 4 AM... and
most cool places will just lock the doors then, throw down the metal thing
over the front and let the good times roll.  Of course, that's usually the
after-gig places.  Even so, with an 11 PM start and three bands, you should
be able to be done by 2:30.  I can't see how this is a problem here in NYC.
Now, I, personally, always liked showing up at 10, so I could be there as
people slowly drifted in, with the jukebox or sound system playing
something cool to get me in the mood.  I like being able to get the feel of
the night as it comes on.  And I was always into hanging out late, staying
after the last group was done.  In most cases, I still do.
       Back to the show... when The Cowslingers came on, I just hadn't
had enough time to adjust.  And since they weren't revving me up this
time, I hung back.  Still, some of the material was sounding pretty good.  I
still ended up going outside to meet up with what Ms. Miriam Linna calls
'The Sidewalk Philosophers Club' on the sidewalk in front of Brownies
("behind the rope," of course, as the guy at the door must be dead sick of
saying.)  Some fine yapping going on, as usual, as the gang arrived.
       When Satan's Pilgrims went on, I was still outside.  Interestingly
enough, the place was quite crowded inside.  I was sorta surprised.  I
didn't know so many people knew about these guys.  But, from the
response of some of the audience to certain numbers, the crowd must've
known at least one or two of their latest songs.  So, a few songs into the
set, I ventured inside and(as is my way) weaseled my way right up front.
I found myself dancing my butt off.  These guys were doing some
seriously great stuff, including their instrumental take on "Shape Of
Things To Come" and some old movie theme by the John Barry Seven that
isn't coming to mind right now.  People were definitely into whatever
they did, though, even the ones they didn't know.  Must be the popularity
of the surf thing these days.  Fine with me, since they were doing a great
set.
       Now... this is where things got interesting.  Let's back up a bit.
When Mr. Miller and I were cruising Route 3 towards NYC, he asked if
Edgar would be there.  (For those of you not in the NY metro area, Sir
Edgar is this guy from Peru that's been living in NYC on and off for the
past few years.  He's been kicked out of a number of bars for drinking too
much and passing out, etc.  When he's sober, I think he's an OK guy, I
guess.  It's just that I rarely see him in that state.)  I told Tony I
hadn't seen
Edgar in months, so I wasn't expecting him.
       I walked in the door at Brownies and... heeeeeere's Edgar!
"Blaaaiiir!  My friend!"  (Guess I was wrong... he's back in town.)  So,
what's the first thing the guy says to me?  "[His significant other] Stacy
tells me you got fat!"  Now that's a fine howdy-do.  (I mean, OK, it's true,
but... this is NOT the way to greet me.)
       Back now to Satan's Pilgrims' set... Edgar has some drink in his
hand and... he kinda wobbles into the stage and the drink spills on the
stage.  He looked uncertain about what to do for, say... all of a second or
two.  Then he crawled onto the stage and started drinking from the
puddle of liquid that had formed!  (One of the few times I think I
would've been willing to put up with the hassles of carrying a camera to a
show.  But you just can't predict these things.)  Now, he must've soon
realized this was a faux pas, 'cuz he raised his head, grabbed his glass and
started pushing the puddle of alcohol back in.
       Next up were The Swingin' Neckbreakers.  They crashed right in
and got the gang dancing.  Interestingly, much of the Satan's Pilgrims'
crowd seemed to have vacated (heaven forbid they should stay and listen
to a group they'd never heard.)  It didn't matter, tho', 'cuz Neckbreakers
fans were still arriving.  They hit things hard this night, intro-ing a new
one called "The Stand" (no, not The Alarm song).  This one makes like it's
a new dance step-type number (sorta like "The Hump" by The Invictas or
"The Mashed Potato" or "The Twist", etc.), except it's a stinging
indictment of all those people who go to shows and just kinda stand there,
motionless, doing "The Stand."  Pretty rockin', too.  Now, in addition to
our Peruvian pal, there was another person just back in NYC, Mr. Lars
Espenson, formerly of The A-Bones.  As he came up to play with the
Neckbreakers, it looked like they were about to be cut off.  Luckily, they
got to do two more.  Even so, evidently they'd had about 10 ready to go.
But Brownies didn't allow that.
       Finally, it was time for The Original Sins.  Now, as regular readers
no doubt know, I've been a major fan of these guys for years now.
They've done some of the best records of the past ten years and have
gotten way too little to show for it.  I think this pisses JT off quite a bit.
Especially when they have to go on last, with people having left in the
fifteen minutes it takes them to set up.  I kept asking myself why Brownies
couldn't have had the Neckbreakers go on last.  Their fans would've
shown up in time for The Sins, then, and hung out much later, leaving a
whole bunch of people in the bar drinking.  Plus there wouldn't have been
another band after them, so they could have, theoretically, done the rest of
those songs with Lars.  (Well, theoretically, must be the right word, but
we'll get to that.)  But that's just not what happened.  As a result, JT
just let
it all hang out, doing pretty much whatever came to mind during the
songs, changing phrasing, etc.  I yelled out for them to do Wreckless Eric's
"Whole Wide World" (which they'd covered a couple weeks earlier at
Coney Island High).  They did.  Of course, I don't think JT knows all the
right words, or even the right order, but it didn't matter... he just made up
his own.  (Pretty well, too.)  He also made sure they played most (all?) of
the new four-song 7"er (reviewed in TS 55).  Perhaps the most fun was his
long monologue with the band just laying back providing
accompaniment... going on about freedom of different types, etc, and what
it means.  Actually, it was pretty cool.  Long, but fun.  Somehow, though,
they were soon told it was time to finish up.  Huh?  It couldn't have been
later than 2:15 or so.  (Probably earlier.)  You'd think a bar would want
people in there drinking.  Here's a little hint... most of us don't go to
Brownies to hang out; we go there to see a rock'n'roll show.  When we
want to drink, talk, etc., we go somewhere else, like the Lakeside Lounge
on Avenue B just above 10th, with one of the best jukeboxes in town.
Geez, gang, let the rock roll all night and you'll keep people in your damn
bar.

       The next night found me getting the Platterpuss and Ms. Jahna in
the Blairmobile for a  trek out to Bethlehem, PA and one of my fave bars
on the East Coast, The Funhouse.  The Funhouse will never go down in
history as the world's best live venue, but it sure is great to hang out and
see a band.  First of all, it's rarely more than three bucks.  Secondly,
for the
drinking folk, it's damn cheap.  And if you're there to see a band, well...
there's not a bad spot in the house.  It's just not big enough for that to be
possible.  By the way, from all reports, they treat the bands extremely well.
       I always leave early on my treks out to the Christmas City, mainly
'cuz I want to make sure I make it to 3rd St. Chicken before closing time
(10 PM, I believe).  Their wings, while they can pack a zing (at least on the
hot version of the sauce), aren't heading down the traditional Anchor Bar
alley.  Instead, the chicken itself almost melts off the bone into your mouth
as you eat, with the sauce providing that much more sliding power.  But
the wings aren't even my main reason for going to 3rd St. at this point.
Nope, I'm there for those incredible potato logs.  These things are deee-
lish-us.  Put some wing sauce on 'em for an extra treat.
       So, just as we're getting ready to leave said gourmet establishment,
in walks ex-Maxwells soundguy (and one-time roomie of mine), Mister
Andy Peters (living in the Keystone State, himself, at the time.)  The four
of us decided to head up to the club, as it was about 10 PM or so.  Who do
we see as we approach the corner, sitting in a window booth at the
Subway?  Ms. Teri, along with friends Sir Shaggy and Ms. Jezebel.  I
knocked on the window, plastered my mug against the glass in a
menacing-type look and... nearly scared the begeezus outta Teri.
       We entered the Funhouse and it was tons of hello-how are ya's all
around.  It seemed like more than half the crowd at the club were from
out-of-town.  Mainly Jersey-ites (really does sound like 'parasite'... hmm,
maybe that's what Parisians ought to be called), but also a few from
Harrisburg, PA and even a couple new to the East Coast, Jon B. &
Shannon, who drove two hours from their abode in Newark, Delaware for
their first East Coast show, by NJ Mod maniacs, The Insomniacs.  Bet you
were wondering when I'd get to who was actually playing.  (What's really
gonna kill you is how little I actually tell you about this show, after all
this
pre-gig crap.)
       The band had a blast this time out (like they do whenever they play
the Funhouse... like almost every cool rockin' band does when they play
the Funhouse).  In fact, they played three good-sized sets.  A bunch of us
dancing, chatting, and having a good old time.  The band did material
from most of their discography, although they somehow neglected to do
"My Favorite Story" (even though I shouted for it numerous times.)  Of
course, a few of us were also yelling out for The Phantom Five's classic,
"She's Not" which the boys used to do some years back as a goof.  (And
we've never let them forget it, either.)  Tons of cover material this night, as
well... Bill Luther got up to handle the mic in his rather well-oiled state.
How'd he do?  Well, let's just say that I couldn't do any better.  (If you've
ever heard me try to warble a tune, tho... )  Siddown, Billy.  And put a
smile on that face, I'm just havin' fun with you.  (But I think, after all the
ribbing we've all taken in Smashed! Blocked! intros, this isn't gonna bum
you out too much.)  I also remember lead Creature Mark Smith getting up
there later on, but I'm hazy on what song he did (usually it's "Enough of
What I Need.")  Great version of the Remains' take on "Hang On Sloopy"
at the end there, too.
       What else?  Well, remember, as the 45 cover says, "The Insomniacs
Are GO!"

       I wasn't sure if I was going to see The Buzzcocks this time out.  But
as the day wore on that Tuesday, July 2nd, I realized I was in the mood.
Plus, it was at one of my favorite "big" clubs in the world, Irving Plaza.
That place holds a special place in my heart... the first time I ever went in
there was July 20th, 1984, when The Mosquitos opened for The Lyres.
Tons more garage-oriented shows there in the next few years made it a
part of me.  So I decided I'd see if I could get tix at the door.
       I needn't have worried.  Geez, and here I was thinking that
showing up around 8:45 might be stretching it, since the doors were
opening at 8.  I walked upstairs to find some band on-stage that... well,
first off, I have no idea who they were.  Secondly, it was just some girl on
vocals and a few guys backing her.  She had this sort of dead-looking
blue-blonde hair and she just wasn't all that exciting.  What I took to be
the group's original material was about as energetic as her hair.  At least
they tried The Stooges "I Got A Right" towards the end (though I didn't
much like their rearrangement of certain segments.)  As the end came
near, she went off stage, letting the Circle Jerks singer (I think he was the
singer; I was never a big fan) take over the mic.  He was much better, but
still not my cup of iced tea.  After a couple by him, the blue-blonde came
back on to join him for a cover of The Soft Boys' "I Wanna Destroy You",
which was fairly good.  Then they were done.
       Next up were Goldfinger.  This must be why a bunch of the kiddies
were here; I hear tell they've got a following.  Now, while I wasn't really
interested in being up front, that didn't mean I didn't at least check them
out.  They were OK, alternating between a sort of Green Day thing and the
Clash, with the occasional look towards hardcore and some slight ska
bounce, but revved up.  OK, but nothing I was all that into.  I mainly hung
out in the balcony, just left of center.
       Finally, after an interminable wait through some pathetically
inappropriate videos (this at the club that once, oh-so-long-ago, proudly
advertised "We don't have video.), it was time for the main attraction.
The crowd was ready to lose themselves.  From the fourteen year olds
right thru those in their 40s, they were pumped.  And the band started out
by giving it to them.  Then they dipped for one the crowd didn't really
know.  Must've been one of the new ones.  OK, fine.  Then another old hit.
More fun.  Then came a looooong string of newer stuff.  This is where, as
the NY Times reviewer put it, things got boring.  Sure, some of these new
songs were pretty good.  But the crowd didn't know them.  And,
interspersed with some songs that didn't really have the best Buzzcocks
spirit, they just didn't have the effect.  It was somewhere in the middle of
this that I started thinking about what Shelley & Diggle must be thinking
on-stage.  They couldn't possibly be oblivious to the crowd's non-reaction.
Were they thinking, "What's wrong with these people?  Do they not like
our new material?"  Or maybe, "OK, we'll get to the old standards later,
just let us get through these, dammit."  I just kept wanting to flash some
big neon sign that said "CLUE!!!  Don't play all the new stuff in a row...
play a couple old hits, then throw in a new one, then another hit, etc."
That way the crowd would not only be with them the whole way, but they
might actually remember one of those songs...
- "Hey, what was that one between 'What Do I Get?' and 'Boredom'?"
- "Dunno, think it's on the new record.  I'm gonna get it."

       Well, it'd be something like that, anyway.  But instead, The
Buzzcocks chose to let the audience get restless, not winning them back till
it was time to wind things down, launching into the treasure trove for
material guaranteed to get everyone moving, be it "What Do I Get?",
"Boredom" or "I Believe."  Or later, in one of their two encores (neither of
which they would've gotten if they'd ended with a string of the new stuff)
when they did "Orgasm Addict."
       So, am I glad I went?  Not really.  This one wasn't nearly as good as
some of the other times I've seen them.  They've been better.  Will I go
again next time?  Probably... depends on the price.  They're a great band
that can write some great songs.  Hopefully next time they'll have worked
on their pacing.

       Sitting in some breakfast cafe in Estes Park, Colorado one morning,
I spied an article on the Sex Pistols.  Turns out they were playing Red
Rocks (a place I'll forever associate with the Grateful Dead, since my dear
baby brother went to see them there).  And the show was the night before
TrebleFest.  What's more, tix were listed in the paper as costing $10.67
(down, I guess, from the original $22... maybe these Colorado folks have
some sense).  I considered going.  I read the article/interview... basically,
Johnny Snotty putting down his bandmates.  That put me off pretty badly,
but I was still semi-interested.  At least I could weasel my way up front
and yell out to him that he looked like Gary Glitter with a bad punk hair-
don't.  But when Wednesday rolled around, I'd just been on a hike that
carried me nine miles round trip, plus going up 2500 feet in elevation to
11,800 above sea level (and above the tree-line, for a nice li'l sunburn.)  All
I wanted to do after that was go into town and shower and maybe grab a
bite to eat.  Then sleep.  Period.
       Turns out I'd done the right thing.  I later heard that the Rotten one
had needed an oxygen mask 'cuz he couldn't handle the altitude.
Supposedly, he kept telling the audience they needed to get some air in
this state.  Whatta loser.

       So, once back from the mountainous region (and having survived -
barely - our ordeal on Northwest Airlines), it was time to see what NYC
had in store, musically.  Unfortunately, I'd missed what was probably the
rock'n'roll event of the summer in NYC whilst at TrebleFest.  That past
Saturday night, Continental had featured the return of The Talismen,
Portland, ME's greatest gift to the garage scene and one of my all-time
fave acts, especially live.  I'm just hoping they'll do it again... and maybe
record a couple more numbers, as I think there are a couple labels out
there that'd kill for their brand of raw R&B/garage.  Also on the bill that
night were The Insomniacs and The Gnats, who evidently added another
guitar and wowed the crowd that evening.  Well, you can't catch every
show.

       Saturday August 10th I found myself floating down the Delaware
for the rescheduled annual tubing trip.  Usually we're about 20-25 strong,
but this date was bad for most of the crew, I guess, 'cuz we ended up with
only 7 people.  Nice day for it, too - not too hot, a few clouds for the sun to
duck behind and give us some relief... quite enjoyable.  Plus the traditional
stop on the way home at Cool's Eats & Sweets on Rt. 12.

       That night I trekked down to Brownies to see The Vacant Lot for
the first time in months and months.  This was a real treat, with them
playing a variety of material, drawing more from the third album (the
only one with the current lineup), but also checking in with some earlier
faves, like "I Won't Say I'm Sorry" and "Remembers Me", plus an encore
of "Loyola."  Other covers thrown in were Boyce & Hart's "I Wonder
What She's Doing Tonight," garage classic "Why" (done sans backing
vox), The Barracudas' "Neighborhood Girls," and even girl group fave
"One Fine Day."  This was the highlight for me, actually... as the
Platterpuss remarked at the song's end, "Brilliant!"  And it was.  I'd never
even thought of the band covering it (or any band I know, for that matter),
yet hearing the Vacant Lot do it this night seemed like the most natural
thing in the world.  As always, add extra points for Mike Hoffman's guitar
leads, bursting out of nowhere this night; one moment he's just playing
along and then the next... BLAM!  There he is, flying way above.  Perfect.
       I'd wanted to go to Sleazefest, but what with all the money Roberta
and I had spent in Colorado, coupled with the fact that I didn't work all
summer... well, I just didn't think I should be spending the money.  So,
what to do that weekend?  Well, it just so happened that Todd A. had
booked one of his all-time faves into Maxwells, Freddie "Boom Boom"
Cannon.  So, the day before the show, I went down to Hoboken and
grabbed myself one of those $15 tickets.  (Trust me, I rarely spend that
much money to see a show.  But, what the hell, this was Freddie Cannon.)
       We got there a few songs into The Volcanos set.  Later on, I asked
the Platterpuss how long they'd been on before I got there and he told me
five songs.  Well, if that's so, they played a longer set than I'd thought.
Thing is, it didn't matter - they were a really fantastic instro surf group,
evidently already signed on to Estrus to do a disc slated for this fall.
Anyway, the only other thing I really know about them is that a couple of
'em used to be in the 3D Invisibles and they're from Detroit.  Oh yeah, and
they're damn good.
       Finally, it was time for what we'd all come down for, Freddie
Cannon.  Up on stage were a bunch of guys well-known (for the most
part) to New York rock'n'roll fans:  Bruce Bennett (ex-A-Bones) on guitar,
Matt Verta-Ray (ex-Blackflies) also on guitar, Marcus the Carcass (ex-A-
Bones) on bass, and Vince Brnicevic (ex-Raunch Hands) on drums.  (Sorry,
don't know the keyboard guy.)  They started playing, as Freddie Cannon
was brought up with a big intro.
       Freddie got up on-stage and had the band bring it down a bit, so he
could talk to the audience.  He told us how special it was to him to see
such a young audience into his music.  (The crowd ranged in age from
about mid-20s to mid-40s with, I'd say, a good number of us falling in the
early 30s - which is probably about young enough to be Freddie's kids.)
And then it was time for "Tallahassee Lassie."
       Next up was "Way Down Yonder in New Orleans," in which
Freddie learned that this crowd was not some run-of-the-mill oldies
crowd.  Well, actually, I guess he'd figured that much out already, thanks
to the young faces.  But he was coming to realize that we might know
more of his music than his normal crowds.
 Next he went into "Shake, Rattle, & Roll."  He made sure to tell us (both
before and after) that this was NOT the watered-down Bill Haley version,
but the real one, by Big Joe Turner from about 1954.  This, sayeth the
Boom Boom, was the music that really inspired him.  And he turned in a
damn fine performance on it, too.
       After that, he said that he wanted to do one of his songs that
normally he wouldn't expect the crowd to know.  But this crowd, he
thought, might actually know it.  With that, they ripped into "Buzz Buzz A
Diddle It," one I seem to remember the A-Bones doing way back when.
But I think they segued from this straight into "Abigail Beecher" (at least,
that's what it looks like on Bruce Bennett's lyric sheet.)  According to the
band and the set list, they were supposed to go into "Transistor Sister"
after this.  That didn't happen.  Maybe Freddie forgot.
       He introduced the next one by saying that he was going to play one
that might be some people's favorite, but others might not like it; he didn't
know, but he was gonna do it anyway.  And that's when they did
"Palisades Park," which got just about everyone dancing.  (Like that's a
surprise.)  My only complaint is that the organ wasn't loud enough on this
one (which it really deserves to be.)
       Next up was a song, Freddie told us, that went with a TV show.
He'd done the theme song - "Where The Action Is."  Now, as much as I
love "Tallahassee Lassie," "Palisades Park," and "Buzz Buzz A Diddle It,"
I'd have to say this is my fave Freddie number.  This one had me (and
probably the rest of the crowd) singing along with every chorus.  Who can
resist it?
       After this, he said he wanted to go into some songs by a guy who
he really admired.  He didn't know if we did or not, but he sure did, so he
was gonna do some.  With that, he pulled out covers of both "Little
Queenie" and "Roll Over Beethoven."
       Now, I expected MUCH more after this.  I guess when he said he
wanted to go into stuff by someone he dug, then come back, that he meant
he'd actually do some other stuff.  But he didn't.    And he'd only done
about nine songs (having skipped "Transistor Sister," which would've at
least put him in double digits.)  But the set had lasted about 35-40 minutes.
And that's probably about right for someone of Freddie's era (remember,
gang, The Beatles supposedly never played more than a half hour after
they got big.  And I can't imagine that things were much different in the
years before they hit.  Especially since those package tours of the late 50s
had so many acts playing in one night.)  The crowd clapped, stomped,
shouted, etc. for Freddie to come back on; the Platterpuss grabbed the mic
to sound the call a couple times; we kept it up for quite some time.  But it
was no use, Freddie Cannon had left the building.  (Well, maybe not, but it
sounds good.)
       At one point during the night, one of my friends said, "Isn't this
better than Sleazefest?"  Well, at that point, for me it was about 50-50.
(Well, actually, I still would've rather been at Sleazefest, mainly 'cuz of the
real festive atmosphere and the sense of community you get from three
long nights of rockin' like mad with the same bunch of crazies.)  But
seeing Freddie was definitely the perfect consolation prize.  Shorter than I
would've liked, but still a damn good time.  Freddie "Boom Boom"
Cannon has still got it.

       I'd been looking forward to seeing The Muffs again for a few
months.  So it was Tuesday night, August 20th and I was finally getting
the chance.  Bluesman came over after work, hung out for a bit, and we
made for Maxwells.  We came in to find The Lee Marvins on-stage.  This
bunch features ex-A-Bones Bruce Bennett (guitar/vocals) and Marcus the
Carcass (bass), plus Dog, who played for a bit in the Vacant Lot (amongst
others) on drums.  They are not what many A-Bones fans might expect.
What they are, however, is a damn good band.  A couple songs didn't
quite do it for me, but for the most part, I thought they had a strong
sound.  Sure, there were elements of both r'billy and garage, but there was
just as much up-tempo melody as anything else.  What's wild for me is
seeing Bruce sing.  I'd always thought he was shying away from the mic.
Best of all, Bruce was playing guitar like a demon, flying low and wild.
Not being a rock'n'roll historian, I don't know if "All Systems Go" was a
cover or not, but they did a damn good job with it... nice light hearted
punk.  I'm looking forward to seeing them again.
       Muzzle was up next.  Not bad.  I ended up by the jukebox talking
to friends.
       The Muffs came on with three straight from their next record (due
in February), denoted on the set list as "Nothing," "That Awful Man," and
"Crush Me."  Good, high energy, catchy material... just like the majority of
their stuff.  People were dancing along and enjoying themselves (well,
about as much as you could, considering Maxwells was sold out and there
wasn't much room to move.)  Then came "I Need You," which got the
crowd moving harder.
       The next grouping started with "Honeymoon," one of the ones I
remember them playing either last summer or - at least - at Maxwells on
New Year's.  Then "My Crazy Aft." (afternoon, maybe?) and "Upside
Down."  Afterwards, Kim said she didn't think "Upside Down," a kinda
slower, "weird one" (sayeth Kim), really fit there.  Then on to a couple
Muffs classics, "Nina" and "Big Mouth," which, obviously, got people
jumping (some of us, myself included, literally).  The next set started with
"All Blue Baby," moving on to "Red Eye Troll," and a few other Muffs
faves: "Lucky Guy," "Ethyl My Love," and "Right In the Eye" (the 2nd 45).
       Time then for the encores... well, I don't really remember at this
point (shoulda written this when I got home last night, but it was about
1:30 - that's what happens when you hang out and gab for a while.)  But I
*do* remember "Saying Goodbye" from the first record, then that Amps
cover that Ronnie mentioned sometime back (the one that's gonna be on
their Sympathy single this fall... which, he said, has been pushed back to
October, as the cover art is holding things up).  They said they were gonna
do the A-side ("I'm A Dick"), as well, but didn't.  Then finished up with
"Agony."
       Talking to Ronnie afterwards, I told him that I'd been comparing
their show to The Buzzcocks gig I'd seen in the early part of the summer.
Both groups spent at least half the set on new material.  The difference, I
told him, was that The Buzzcocks completely bored the audience, while
The Muffs just managed to get everyone excited about the new material.
So, to finish off, the new material sounds *great* and I'm really looking
forward to the next record (which, unfortunately, won't be ready till
February.)
       The next night, at Coney Island High, was even better than the
previous night.  Maybe it was the fact that the club can hold more.  Maybe
it was that this bunch seemed livelier.  Maybe it was that we were all
pressed so closely together that the heat made our molecules bond (or
some other chemistry kinda thing that I've long forgotten.)
       I saw most of Muzzle's set.  About the same as the previous night,
fairly melodic, good tempo, not really punk, but obviously the ideas come
in.  Honestly, I was busier talking to friends than I was watching them.
       But for The Swingin' Neckbreakers, I made sure I was right up
front.  These guys have been one of my fave bands almost as long as The
Muffs have.  In fact, when both came out with their debut discs in '93, my
year-end wrap-up in The Teen Scene found them sharing Best Of Year
honors.  Funny how it took three years before I got to see them play a
show together.
       The Neckbreakers did a set with equal helpings from their two
discs, plus a few numbers from 45s ("Rip It Up" being one of my faves),
plus one or two new ones, including "Do The Stand," a beautiful rip at
people who just kinda stand and stare when they're at a show.  Some of
the crowd *loved* the Neckbreakers.  Unfortunately, some were best
alluded to by everyone's fave record reviewer, The Platterpuss, when he
yelled out a request for "The Girl Can't Dance," seguing neatly into "and
neither can most of the audience."  This shot was probably directed largely
at the 3-4 young girls who were sitting between the monitors in front of
the stage, reading a fanzine.  Even so, The Neckbreakers blasted out some
damned fine raw garage-punk.
       The Muffs came on, introduced by The Bluesman, one of the
greatest characters in existence (and someday we really will convince The
Smugglers to follow thru on their promise to name an album "I Slept With
The Bluesman."  But that's a whole 'nother story.)
       Then The Muffs got to it and did much the same set as they'd done
at Maxwells.  Which was perfectly fine, since so many of the songs are
new to us.  Hey, it would have been perfectly fine with us if they'd done
sets of their older stuff, too.  The crowd was going pretty wild... even a
couple kids crowd-surfing (one of whom nailed my nose with his shoe.)
Two of these actually had the nerve to go up on-stage to dive:  the first
took her position and was rewarded with Kim's foot planted firmly in her
butt, meaning her dive was more like a fall.  The second, a guy, stuck out
his butt for Kim to kick him, but she was either not watching or just
ignored him.  (Yeesh, I kept thinking he was like Paul Shaffer in Spinal
Tap.  "Kick Me.")  He dove, but most people just moved out of his way, so
he got no ride and little cushion on his way down.
       The only big change in the set this time was that The Muffs did "I'm
A Dick," the A-side of the upcoming Sympathy single (due in October.)
Yet another winner.
       Afterwards, Blues & I headed downstairs, joined by a bunch of
friends, a few of whom I hadn't really had a chance to hang with for quite
some time.  As the night went on, Blues & I were hanging with Kim in the
dressing room, along with a gal getting ready to do her go-go act for the
club's late-nite entertainment, Fraggle Rock.  Somehow, we found
ourselves singing songs from Grease (the movie version, since "You're
The One That I Want" and Frankie Valle's "Grease" also made it through
our hit parade."  Scary that Kim and I both remembered so many of the
words to "Summer Lovin'."
       I spent the ride home trying to convince Bluesman that he needed
to drive down to Philthydelphia with me the next night.  He told me he'd
call me the next afternoon.

       Well, I didn't hear from him till about 5.  And the answer was...
maybe.  A little while later, it was, 'No.'  But a bit after that, my frown
turned upside down, 'cuz Bluesguy was a go.  "Pick me up at Kingsland
Station at 5:5j8."
       And so we made our way to the Trocadero in Philly (luckily, Sam
Steinig of Mondo Topless ad come through with directions for me.)  This
was to be the first show on this leg of the tour with No Doubt.  Of course,
as I've already mentioned, No Doubt cancelled.  We ended up arriving
with plenty of time to spare.  The Troc reminded me of an older version of
New York's Irving Plaza... more rounded, but with a ghastly paint job.
       I decided to go upstairs to get away from the crowd watching Dog
Eat Dog (sort of a hip-hop/hardcore thing that I just didn't like at all.)  Ran
into my friend Marisa and her brother, Harper, up there.  That was nice.  I
hadn't seen Marisa for quite some time, but it was so damn hot up there I
had to go downstairs.  Once back in the lobby I ran into Ronnie, Kim, &
Roy, so we chatted for a bit, then Roy & Kim decided to go get a drink
upstairs.  Already convinced the heat was oppressive up there, Blues and I
hung with Ronnie.  I asked him what the heck "S.G." stands for (the title of
a Cub song on the new disc, Box of Hair), 'cuz I couldn't make it out.
Turns out it's in Japanese.
       The Muffs went on somewhere around 9:45 or 10:00 and played
much the same set they'd played the previous two evenings, with "I'm A
Dick" in there, again, as well as "Another Day" in the encores, and "Saying
Goodbye" rapping things up.  Actually, that was cool.  They actually did
two encore-sets... the first was just "Agony" and then off.  But the small
crowd was quite enthusiastic and got 'em back up for the second one... It
made me realize just how damn strong "Saying Goodbye" is that they
could close with it.  Since it's on that first LP, it's overshadowed by the two
"hits," "Big Mouth" and "Lucky Guy," but this one really wowed me with
the punch it had.
       Other things of note at this show... the sound in the place gave us
some bad bass rumble at various times.  I wondered if it was because
Ronnie's amp head was at ear level (the stage was about that high) or if it
was just a bad sound system.  One girl casually took off her t-shirt, clad,
then, only in a bra.  OK, I thought, she's hot.  It *was* hot in there.  Next
thing I know, tho', her back is bare... and, evidently, so was her front, 'cuz
a few minutes later, the security guys told her to put it on or she'd have to
leave.  She complied, but threw her bra up to Kim towards the end of the
set.  Kim said, "I'm too big for this," and put it on her head, instead.
Somehow it ended up back in the audience and the girl got it back,
wearing it on her head the way Kim had.
       The stage diving was the funniest, tho'... most of it was done by a
group of girls in their mid-late teens over on the left.  At one point, they'd
yelled out, "We love you, Kim."  Kim smiled and yelled back, "I love you,
too," which caused them to fall all over themselves yelling in happiness.  It
was kinda nice.  But back to the stage diving... funny stuff.  These same
girls would crawl up the lip of the stage (the stage is about 5 feet high, but
there's a lip that's about 2 feet long that you can sort of shimmy up if
you're so inclined.)  So the girls just kinda went up, walked to the middle,
then bent their knees and fell into the crowd.  But the best of 'em came
when one went over to do it and chickened out, just sort of sliding off the
lip.  Kinda like sliding into a kiddie pool.

       I'd seen The Makers three times before they finally got around to
hitting the East Coast, two years in a row at GarageShock and then again,
this summer, at TrebleFest.  As I mentioned earlier, I'd only gone
absolutely nuts at their live show this last time.  (I think it may have had
something do with their new guitarist, Jamie, who really dishes it out.)
But even if they'd only been OK out in Denver, I think I still would've
been really revved to see them in NYC.  Maybe it's curiosity:  what kind of
crowd would be there to check out The Makers in NYC?  Would it be
different than the usual bunch?  Would fans of the night's headliners, The
Waldos (led by ex-Heartbreaker, Walter Lure), get into them?  Would the
crowd react the way audiences at garagefests did?
       Well, I made the mistake of showing up early.  I endured one band
who sounded like they'd been listening to way too much of The Grateful
Dead and Edie Brickell (although they had a sense of humor that
suggested they'd seen Jonathan Richman once or twice.  That made it
almost bearable.)  I'm not sure who was next, but I remember some band
named Girltoucher.  They looked like they could be OK, but what came
out of the amps was a band dead set on arena-pop stardom.  This was
starting to suck.  And, unfortunately, Continental has a no re-entry rule, so
I couldn't even go outside and hang out, or head next door for a slice.
(It'd be great if they knocked down a small piece of the wall to St. Mark's
Pizza and you could get one of those deliciously huge, cheesy slices of
their's while you waited for your fave band to finally hit the stage.)  Such
is life.
       By the time The Makers came on, a fairly sizeable crowd had
shown up, including some people I never would have expected to see
there.  These were folks I knew who'd been involved in the NYC scene for
a long time, but I thought they weren't much interested in garage
happenings at this point.  Maybe they'd heard of The Makers' reputation
and wanted to see what all the noise was about.
       Well, the Spokane suits let 'em know, ripping into "Hard Times"
right away.  By song the fourth, "Bust Out," there were a whole herd of
crazies singing along on the chorus and gettin' way into it.  Of course, it
wasn't garage fest crazy... you didn't have the entire audience turning into
one sweaty mass of flesh, falling around the room together.  People were
more staid.  But people did seem to dig 'em.  Other highlights for me were
"Sock It To Me," "Angry Young Man", "Let Him Try," and "Four Button
Suit."  The end came with them stomping the floor, faking at smashing
their instruments, and lots of frenzied movement.  The floor-stomping
caused a tile on the stage to fall thru.

       Hanging out with friends is always a treat.  It's extra special,
though, when those friends live on the other side of the continent.  I'd
been listening to The Smugglers for a few years before I first got to know
them.  By the next time they came around, though, we knew each other
well enough that I was happy to have them stay over for the three nights
they were in the NYC metro area.  Since then, they've become regulars at
whatever abode I happen to be inhabiting.  This time around, we'd be
pulling a four-nighter together.  What bummed me out, however, was that
the first two were lost to us because I had to wake up to teach in the
morning.  (Yeah, I know... "Don't complain, you had all summer off."
Yadda-yadda-yadda.)  Honestly, though, it is a loss to me when I can't
spend as much time as I want with friends I don't see too often.  But, still,
at least the final two nights were on the weekend, so we did get to spend
some time hanging out.

       Things started off on Wednesday night at Maxwells, with Pansy
Division kicking off the festivities.  Now, I've got one or two things by
these guys on comps, but hadn't listened to them all that much.  Tonight I
paid attention.  What it comes down to, basically, is that they write some
fantastic melodies, do them at a healthy clip, and generally have a damn
good time.  And that should be all that matters.  Of course, if you happen
to be homophobic, you'll totally hate them, 'cuz just about every song is,
in some way, related to their gay identity.  And, folks, they ain't goin'  for
subtlety with songs like "Dick of Death."  It looks to me like these guys are
just out to have a really fun time playing music they love with lyrics that
are as graphic as they can be.  The one guy has a voice that sounds like it'd
be perfect for surf vocal material (and I really wish they'd do some!)
Anyway, I highly recommend you catch these guys next time you get a
chance.  Besides playing some music that'll put a big smile on your face,
the lyrics will get all but the most uptight types laughing hysterically.
       Next up were our Vancouver pals, the guys with the boots... The
Smugglers (deafening applause, of course.)  Right from the get-go, I could
tell these next four nights were gonna be something special; The
Smugglers were ON!  They were hitting things harder and crisper than I'd
ever seen them.  It was a Wednesday night at Maxwells, though, and the
place wasn't as packed as it might have been.  It was far from empty, but it
just wasn't packed the way it normally would be for a show like this one.
This turned out to be to my benefit.  It seems the band had a number of
contests going this tour (two contests, really, and a sort of audience treat.)
The first of these was a dance contest.  Now, part of me just thought I
should just blow it off.  But then I noticed that this audience just was way
too laid back.  Sure, some of this gang was shakin' it, but nowhere near the
level that deserves to win a dance contest of any sort.  So I decided to get it
goin' on.  When it came time to pick the winner (guitarist Nick Thomas
did the honors this night) and singer Grant Lawrence asked who it was
gonna be, Nick said it was gonna look like a fix, being that he not only
knew me, but that the band was going to be staying at my house that
night.  But I was the winner... and for that I was brought up on stage to
collect my prize - a women's bowling trophy with a sticker down below
saying "I Shook Ass The Best At The Smugglers' Show 1996."  Yup, I was
dang proud.  And, oddly enough, it spurred me on to dance even more for
the rest of the show.  Go figure.  I guess things work just like Grant was
telling me a few days later on our way to lunch at the resurrected
Tommy's Diner in Wallington, NJ... these prizes actually mean something
to audience members.  Sure, they're cheesy prizes, but it's FUN to win,
anyway.  Hell, much of the rock'n'roll audience has never actually won
anything.

       The next evening the fun was slated to start early.  I'd originally
planned on taking the bus, but the start of the schoolyear and various
other chores conspired to keep me off NJ Transit for a night.  I just knew,
though, at 6:30, that there was absolutely NO chance of me getting to the
club in time to see the first band if I took the bus into Port Authority, then
a subway down to the East Village, then walked over to Coney Island
High from there.
       As it turned out, I got a pretty decent parking spot only a couple
blocks from the club.  Then Grant gave me his CMJ pass to get me through
the line quicker (tho', admittedly, I still hung out on it most of the time,
talking to a couple friends I hadn't seen for some time.)  Thanks, Grant.
Put it all together and it means that I got to catch almost the whole set by
The Groovie Ghoulies, a group I've been wanting to see for years.  Pure
fun rock'n'roll with lotsa spirit.  Wish they'd come out this way more
often.  Maybe if we all bug 'em.
       Next up were our Smugglin' pals.  Much the same set as the
previous night, this time to a jam-packed crowd of kids all hyped for this
whole Lookout showcase thing.  Most of 'em seemed to dig Los Schmugs,
too, and there were a number of us jumping up and down, pretty much
doing the Russell Quan, I guess.  To get the complete picture, though, you
really needed to see the sweat pouring off our faces, soaking through our
shirts, and making our thighs stick to our pants, shorts, whatever.  And
the HUGE smiles on our faces as we drank the whole thing in.
       Time, then, for Cub to finally get in their first at-bats in the metro
area for this tour.  They took their cuts and hit some of 'em pretty damned
hard, but the sound in the club wasn't handling things as well as I
might've liked.  Even so, most of the fans seemed to think they were pretty
damned great.
       Pansy Division were up next.  By this time, though, I was in the
mood for something to cool me down, so I backed outta the crowd after a
song or three, and headed upstairs to see if anyone was about.  Sure
enough, I saw Mighty Joe Vincent setting up his drums in the back.
Hmm... Yup, as it turned out, The Prissteens were playing a set.  Luck was
with me that night!  So I stuck around for it, danced it down to some
tough-ass garage rockin', sung along with a Supercharger number, and
then went back downstairs with a major look of satisfaction gracing my
mug, secure in the knowledge that I'd gotten it good upstairs.
       I made it down in time for the last half of the Mr. T. Experience set
for the night.  I found one of the guys I'd been yappin' with on the way in
earlier and both of us stuck it out at the back of the crowd dancing around
like idiots.  Of course, that's about when one of the girls from the high
school I teach at walked in.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  We said
hello.  Then she whispered to her friend... something to the effect, I
believe, of how I was a teacher at her school.  Her friend's jaw dropped.
       I kinda lost them in the crowd when it was time for The Queers.  I'd
really been planning on heading home early, but... well, these guys are just
so damned great that it's hard to leave, even if it does mean that I'm gonna
be tired in the AM.  One of the nice things about seeing these guys is that
no matter how far back you start out, you can be up front within 10-15
minutes if you really want.  And so I was, with bodies pressed all over,
kids flying up top, and The Queers blasting out the hits from up on high,
like some kinda gods hitting us with the joy juice.  Yup, punk rock bliss.

       Finally, then... the end of my first week of the school year.  And this
one was a biggie.  Proof that these CMJ things don't have to suck.  Once
again, CBGB's was hosting a bill put together by Maxwells main-man,
Todd A.  This one starred The Minstrels, The Insomniacs, The Woggles,
The Swingin' Neckbreakers, The Smugglers, and Speedball Baby, in that
order.  So I made damn sure I got there at the stroke of 9.  I got lucky, too,
with a parking spot only a block from the club.  And on the avenue yet,
where I've always felt my "car prayer" isn't needed quite as painfully as on
one of the side streets down there.  (Even so, I kept my theft protection
devices - litter accumulated from numerous convenience stores and fast
food joints - in place.)
       I'd been waiting over a year to see The Minstrels again.  In that
time, I'd learned through the Modslist that they'd added another guitarist,
so I was interested to see what effect that would have on their sound.
Having seen them, I'd say they've gotten a bit more power pop than
before.  My only complaint with their set is that they didn't hit the
extremes of their repertoire hard enough.  This is a band with some of the
best ballads of anyone on today's scene and they only seemed to do one of
them (two at the outside.)  And, unfortunately, when they did get around
to one, they didn't come right back and pound the hell out of the audience
with a real raver, the way they seemed to last year.  Now, having gotten
the criticism out of the way, I want to say this is a band with immense
talent.  (I'm sorry they left before I got a chance to buy their new 45.)
These guys can really play their instruments and their voices are top-
notch.  As long as I'm on that topic, in fact, I've gotta give special mention
to bassist George, whose voice is chock full of sweet soul and knows how
to wield it to devastating effect.  Jason, the new guitarist, has added a
Mod-pop dimension to the band that wasn't there before.  Last time I saw
them, their sound was a beautifully updating of Mersey-pop and soul,
with smatterings of surf.  Now they've also integrated Jason's sounds
seamlessly.  Especially cool was one he took lead vocals on, entitled (I
think) "Go Boy Go."  As he told me after the show, it recalls a time when
he did speed.  This, he said, was not one of his better ideas, being that he's
normally pretty hyper.  Loved the falsetto vocals on it.
       On to The Insomniacs, who'd be splitting for California a couple
weeks later for the Estrus Cavalcade of Stars.  (I can't remember what the
hell they were calling this tour, but I like my name anyway... conjures up
visions of late 50s/early 60s tours on a bus filled with eager musicians on
the verge of stardom.)  I think they had a couple new ones in there this
time around.  My only complaint is that they didn't get around to "Jump &
Dance" till a few songs from the end.  Personally, I wish they'd do this
right near the beginning every time, 'cuz it gets the local crowd geared for
wildness right from the start - and then they (we) are up for anything the
band tosses their/our way.  Funny thing is, drummer Mike Sin tells me it
doesn't get nearly as good a response outside NYC.  Go figure.
       Time then for part 1 of the Telstar Records portion of the night's
entertainment, from Athens, GA... The Woggles!!!  Once they got on-stage,
I realized something was missing.  I mean, Montague, the Human
Metronome, was up there with that big ol' guitar, but... where the hell was
Zorko?  How the hell can I be a "Zombie In Zorko's Army" if Zorko
himself has gone AWOL?  Well, as it turns out, dear Zorko has hung up
his guitar strap... at least for the time being.  (I'm hoping he'll see the
error
of his ways and re-enlist.)  As it turns out, Montague was more than up to
handling  git-box duties all by his lonesome.  I believe his time out of the
group may have actually revitalized him, 'cuz he was all over the stage
and playing it up with a huge grin on his face.  And the Professor?  Well,
what can I say... the gals love him.  Hell, everyone loves him.  He's gotta
be one of the most fun frontmen around these days, ranking right up there
with Peter Zaremba of The Fleshtones.
       Then came The Swingin' Neckbreakers, the "Two" of Telstar's 1-2
punch for this CMJ "showcase."  These guys manage to rev audiences up
just about wherever they go and tonight was no different.  Tom's got those
whiskey-soaked vocals that fans always go nuts to, while brother John
pounds out the beat and Jeffrey Lee Jefferson surges through on lead.
Tonight's set was peppered with standards from most of the band's
releases, but also featured a couple pretty new ones that could be
highlights of their next record.
       Finally, it was time for The Smugglers.  I'd been pretty puzzled
when I first found out they were gonna be put on after the Neckbreakers.
After all, the Trenton guys were easily the most popular of any of the
bands on the bill.  On the other hand, the show was put together by
Telstar Records prez Todd A., who had a vested interest in getting his two
bands in the prime slots.  So that meant that, even if I thought that maybe
The Smugglers should've been on after The Insomniacs, pushing the other
two back one slot... well, that's just not the way the Glendale Bakery
crumb-cake crumbles.  Given these constraints, the trick was to figure out
who of the other three bands could best pull off playing after the
Neckbreakers.  Well, The Minstrels are from Vancouver, BC and are
relatively unknown here in town.  The Insomniacs, on the other hand, are
local boys who play the area fairly often, so folks might figure that - after
four other bands - well, they were tired after a work-week and they'd head
home, content to catch the NJ Mod guys the next time around.  The
Smugglers, tho'... well, while they're from Vancouver, just like the
Minstrels, they've played NYC  fairly often in the past few years and have
built up a nice following.  Plus, they're just one of those bands that can
bounce around a lot and get people moving no matter what happened
before.  And they did.  I'll tell ya, I was completely beat after my first week
back at work (guess it didn't help that I'd been out the previous couple
nights, either).  But these guys recharged my batteries all the way and I
was soon bouncing up and down just the way I had the night before.
Cool, too, was the fact that they changed the set around a little bit,
figuring (I guess) that they'd already played in the area the past couple
nights, so they oughta do something different.  And they did... and the
fans were begging for more by the time they left the stage.
       Now, at this point, it was pretty late.  And after hanging out for a
while, I came to realize that... well, I really was tired.  And I mean really
tired.  So I went home.

       Finally, Roberta was set to catch a Smugglers' show with me.
Granted, it would be the longest trek of my four night stand with the
guys, but... well, New Haven is only about an hour and a half away, so it's
not like we're talking a true road trip.
       We arrived in plenty of time (thanks to superb directions from Fast
Eddie) and had a little time to hang out before Los Schmugs took the
stage.  When they finally did, though, it was pretty damn fun.  The Tune
Inn is a fairly large place, catering to underage kids (no liquor, just
Snapple and stuff like that... in fact, the long bar on the stage side of the
venue is used for merch by all the bands... the kinda set-up they don't get
anywhere else.  Probably the one *good* thing about the club.)  It shows,
too, with some kids there who couldn't have been older than 12.
(Thankfully, these were bright enough to refuse the many offers to be
thrown on top of the crowd.)  It was kinda sad to me that this would be
my last Smugglers show till next tour, but I resolved to make it top-notch
and was bounding up and down like a kangaroo.  Of course, I wasn't the
only one... Frank and Heather were doing the same thing.  This set was cut
kinda short by the soundman (meanwhile, the club owner evidently asked
later on why they'd played such a short set.)
       Next up were Cub.  Now, granted, they're playing faster and
harder than before, but they didn't exactly blast through with a firestorm
to start.  Which is why it pissed the hell out of me when I see this 16-17
year-old skinhead and his buddy decide to try and start a mosh pit right
in back of Roberta and this other girl.  I mean, fine, they wanna hit each
other, go ahead.  But they started it not by hitting each other with nobody
else around, but by knocking two girls almost off their feet.  Now, Roberta
can take care of herself OK (and she screamed at the guy), who then said
something nasty back.  Which is why I ran over and got in his face and
told him (bluntly, so it might knock through his extremely thick skull) that
if he pulled that shit again, I was going to... well, let's just say I told him
that he would be extremely unhappy that he hadn't done a bit of thinking
beforehand.  Sometimes it amazes me what a little well-placed rage can do
to intimidate people.   Anyway, tonight's set was much more fun than the
night before, though I'm not really sure why.  Maybe 'cuz there was more
room to breathe?  Of course, later on in the set, when another jerk-off
slammed into me from behind I wanted to murderize him, but settled for
catching his eye and giving him one nasty-ass look.  (One that made him
give me the... duh, what'd I do? look... then the "yeah... so?" belligerent
stare.  Yeah, uh-huh.)  It was just about then that my pal Billy O'Grady
came up to me and said that he and the rest of the old New Haven gang
were ready to back me up if I needed it.  Always good to know that you've
got friends when you're out of town.  Nicer, though, that it wasn't
necessary.  Anyway, except for those two downers, it was a damn good
time grooving to Cub.
       "This one's about a girl."
       It was time for the Mr. T. Experience.  "This one's about a girl."  I
wasn't sure I was gonna stay up front for them, but... "This one's about a
girl."  Well, let's just say that by the second, "This one's about a girl,"
I was
pretty positive I'd be staying put, sweating my fool head off and loving
every damn smile-soaked minute of it.  I was right.  "This one's about a
girl."  The crowd was waaaay up for 'em and so was I.  We were jumping
up'n'down'n'all-around.  "This one's about a girl."  Of course, once in a
while, the damn mosh-kids would hit the front pack and make a dent, but
mostly it was just fun.  Finally, the schmuck from the middle of the Cub
set kinda wanders onto the stage, no shirt, kinda swaggering about like
he's gonna do something extra special.  I pointed him out to the girl and
guy next to me, telling them to watch out, 'cuz this guy was obviously
ready to make like Greg Louganis.  Well, he made his approach and did
his takeoff... and we drained the pool.  That's right, everyone who was in
his flight path just moved over a few feet to either side, letting him kiss the
floor.  More satisfying than Snickers, that was.  "This song's about a girl!"
       Somehow, the makeup of the crowd seemed to change for The
Queers.  The front was no longer dominated by a sea of  contented,
smiling faces.   Instead, it was an angry storm-tossed ocean, with leather
and studs.  Even so, I just wanted to be up there and going nuts.  And I
did for a while.  But after a bit, I realized I was soaked through so badly
after the other three bands that I just wanted a break.  Imagine my smile
when I found... a fan!!!  I put myself right in front of the damn thing.  And
then, after a bit more conversation with the New Haven gang -  and Joe
Queer's call for "Rockaway Beach" - I was right back up front.
       On the way out, I got myself a Cub shirt (the orange one, to go with
my call for colored t-shirts from last ish) and the new Queers' CD (see
reviews --- ed.)  A few minutes later, Ronnie Barnett convinced me that I
had to have their Bubblegum Dreams 4-songer, too, with covers of "Little
Honda" and The Muffs' "End It All."  Glad I listened to him.
       The Smugglers actually almost beat us home.  Only reason they
didn't was 'cuz they messed up and took the express lanes of 80 West
rather than the local.  Of course, our stop at a Burger King or whatever at
the first rest area on 95 probably didn't help our speed home.  But there
we all were, about 3 AM, hanging in the living room for an hour or two
after we got home.  Yeah, finally some time to hang out.
       Four nights with the Smugglers.  Rock'n'roll was never this fun.

       Thursday the 12th and somehow I was out on a weeknight yet
again.  You'd think I'd've learned after the lack of sleep the previous
week.
       Tonight meant a trip to Irving Plaza for The Hentchmen and Man
or Astro-Man?  Now a trip to Irving Plaza for a good show brings back all
sorts of fantastic memories from when I was 18 - 20 years old, driving the
hour in from Long Island to catch the likes of The Mosquitos, The Lyres,
The Vipers, The Fuzztones, The Chesterfield Kings, etc. for a night of
garage/punk bliss.  I remember being pretty damned upset when it closed
down for a while some years back.  The place is much bigger than most of
the clubs I hang out in and has that stately old ballroom feel that I've
always loved.  Enter in the lobby, where the merch table resides in close
proximity to the advance ticket booth (modernized now with a computer
screen taking up part of the space, showing Irving Plaza's home page on
the WWW), and the coat check, with a corridor leading off to the
bathroom.  Off to the right as you enter is the staircase leading upstairs to
the venue itself.  Colorful walls decorated by more colorful paintings with
gold-painted frames and a kind of faux gemstone thing happening on the
walls leading up there.  Enter into the main room with a perimeter
balcony set-up and a big chandelier up high over the main dancefloor.
The kind of place you can walk around and just watch people when
someone's on you don't much care for.  Where you can run into friends
and talk, then move on and see what else there is to see, maybe catch
another good conversation along the way.  Not that I had much time for
that this night.
       I arrived a bit before 8:30, so as to be sure to catch The Hentchmen,
who were going on first.  I entered to see the crowd (such as it was at that
early hour) sitting on the floor, except for the couple people I knew.
(Which of course brought a grin to each of our faces.)  Pretty soon, the
Michigan men took their places and started rolling through their set.
Amazingly, most of the crowd actually got to their feet (which is better
than some shows I've seen some of today's youth at.)  Some even joined
those of us who've already been Hentch-ed in dancing it down as John
fired up his Farfisa to set things going and Timmy whanged away like
tomorrow had no business ever arriving.  A fine set by the guys that
culminated in a number heavily requested by both myself and Ms.
Miriam, "Red River Rock."  Kinda weird to hear 'em end up with this one,
but... it sure got me psyched.
       After they were done, Billy Miller asked if I wanted to head
backstage with him and Miriam.  Accepting the invite was one of my best
decisions of the night, 'cuz - contrary to what the NY Times reviewer's
claim of The Dirty Three being so expressive and inventive - MOAM?'s
label-mates were boring as hell and louder than they should've been.  If it
hadn't been for that door to the dressing room, the noise might've driven
me insane.  And it was BORING, too.
       Of course, this also meant that I missed my shot at getting right up
front for MOAM?, but that was OK, too, 'cuz this wasn't a crowd that was
all that into dancing, although the packed house WAS damned into the
band.  It was evident, too, that not everyone here was new to the group, as
a few of them knew the band's older material pretty well, too (ah, for the
love of "Nitrous Burnout.")  Even if the crowd weren't up for getting all
sweaty, I sure was, which meant I was moving as best I could given the
crowded conditions.  If it hadn't been for the downpour the next night, I
think I would've gone down to Philly to see this gig all over again.

       I'm  still not sure exactly what possessed me - at 11:45 PM on a
schoolnight - to point my car in the direction of Coney Island High.  I
guess it's that I hadn't seen The Subsonics in a while.  Actually, it was
more than that... I guess that I've got these feelings these days that I'm not
running as wild as I once did.  I keep thinking back to when I was 23 and
going out five nights a week to see rock'n'roll shows, sometimes three in a
night.  And this seemed like a perfect opportunity to do it, too.  There was
also the added benefit of going down to an actual club atmosphere.  Much
as I loved being at Irving Plaza, I missed the shared experience of the
smaller venue audience.  And C.I. High - despite its deplorable ventilation
- would be the perfect place for that.  Besides, the timing was perfect... The
Subsonics were due on at midnight.
       I showed up and waited on line as the door guy gabbed away
trying to pick up some girl.  (In other words, she smiled and he let her in
free.)  Finally I got close enough to hear that the band was already on the
stage.  Now, this was some sorta party for Speedball Baby and they had a
truckload of acts playing at half hour intervals.  Which meant bands were
playing about 20 minute sets.  I asked Romeo how long they'd been on.
"Oh, just now."  I told him it seemed like a lot to pay six bucks to see one
band, but that was the deal.  Well, as it turned out, they were halfway
through a damn fine set.  First one with their new bass player (can't
remember her name right now).  So I saw only about half the flippin' set...
maybe 4 songs for 6 bucks.  Do the math... I've bought new 45s cheaper
than that.  Even so, it was cool seeing Buffi & Clay again.  Both of them are
always fun to hang out with and they were as happy to see me as I was to
see them.  Right now I'm just looking forward to seeing them play on
Hallowe'en.  And, hey, Buffi gave me their new LP on Get Hip (yeah, see
the reviews, OK? --- ed.), so I can't really complain too much.

       Now to get caught up.  (Yeah, I'm actually writing this one the day
after it happened, so there are still some intact pieces left in my mind.)
       I showed up to Brownies about 10 PM, the scheduled start time for
The Botswanas.  Now, I knew the Flat Duo Jets were playing about a half
mile away, down at the Mercury.  Plus, I hadn't gone to see them the night
before at Maxwells.  (I actually managed to go through a school week
without spending a night out.  A good thing 'cuz I was still pretty beat.)
So part of me thought  I should be down there.  But I hadn't seen The
Botswanas in a loooong time.  In fact, I think it was the first show I've seen
'em do with ex-Friggs' drummer Kami behind the kit, bashing away.  Of
course, things being what they are, The Botswanas didn't really get going
till about 10:45 or so.  They threw a whole bunch of new ones into the set
this time out, which threw many people off a bit.  (Remember, the
underground rock'n'roll audience may be a bit more open-minded than
the top 40 crowd, but hearing old favorites makes us just as happy as the
top of the pops bunch is to hear the latest from... whoever the hell's
burning up the charts.)  A few of those new ones, though... well, they're
just damned good.  I guess the most objective view of the set came from
Mr. Dale Ashmun (who writes the "Spare Parts" column for Psychotronic),
who surprised the hell out of me just by walking in - I haven't seen the
guy in years, since he's been in in New Orleans for so long.)  Dale said he's
shown up to see The Prissteens and The Upper Crust on the
recommendation of some friends, but these guys and gal were damn
good, too.  As usual, Dale was right on.  I think one of the reasons I like
seeing this band is 'cuz they're a bit of a change from the rest of my normal
menu selections - they've got a tough Blondie in the garage sound to them.
The melodies use the guitar lines for a foundation and go from there.  And
Danny's bass runs up and down at all the right times, filling in with
beautiful fluidity.
       Next up were The Prissteens, who seem to have really started to
pick up an audience around town.  Guess more than a few people are
drawn to that rough Headcoatees-in-the-East-Village sound.  ('Cept these
gals play and write all their stuff, barring the occasional covers, which
tend to include tracks by both the Milkshakes and The Sonics, along with
a dynamite take on Supercharger's "Sooprize Package For Mr. Mineo.")
Some friends of mine don't like them much, complaining about crap like
"tonality."  Yeesh!  This is rock'n'roll, not some kinda classical recital.
Not
only that, it's flippin' garage-rock... things work just fine when you're
bangin' away at the guitars with gleeful abandon (which this bunch does
darn well.)  I'm looking forward to hearing them do a record.  (I'm hoping
maybe for "Hercules" or a fast one called, I think, ":Going Out.")
       Finally, it was time for my first shot at The Upper Crust (friends
have been telling me about them for a while, but the timing just hasn't
been right.  Tonight it was.)  Now, thanks to the gang, I knew what to
expect, visually... five guys dressed straight out of 18th Century
British/French society.  And between song patter in "upper crust" accents.
Pretty humorous.  But if their songs had sucked... I would've been outta
there pronto.  Well, they didn't.  This was mainly power pop stuff played
with gusto.  Lead vocals were shared, but the majority were taken by Nat
Freedberg (sorry, don't remember his band alias), ex- of both The Titanics
and The Flies (the latter of whom I'd gone nuts for back in the mid-80s
thanks to a song called  "All Hung Up," which I recommend to anyone
who sees it.)  Well, Nat's vocals are as distinctive as ever and his
songwriting's still way up there, too.  I'll be psyched to see them again.

       OK, Saturday night and I've got a few choices to make.  First off, I
figure I've gotta head down to the Mercury Lounge to check out The Silly
Pillows.  Here's a group that's been around in one form or another for 12-
13 years, doing home recording, tape trading and the like, but only in the
past  couple years have they actually gotten around to putting out any
vinyl.  And tonight's show was (I think) their first-ever live show.
       Usually, when I go to a show, I can pretty much count on knowing
at least five people in the room.  Tonight was different.  I recognized a
bunch of faces from hanging around Maxwells, but the only person I
actually knew in the crowd was The Great Gaylord.  Matthew T. Kaplan,
Esquire was supposed to show, but... well, he didn't.  I'd met a couple of
the Silly Pillows before, as well - brothers Sam & Jonathan.  Guitarist Sam
I'd met recently at a show, but I'd seen him in various locales beforehand,
as well.  Singer Jonathan... well, besides our occasional e-mail
correspondence, we had actually met back in May of 1987 at the
University of Rochester when the Cost of Living played my dorm's spring
fling.  Other than that... well, I had a passing acquaintance with them both
since I'd had their dad as a history prof up there.  And, of course, Sam had
been friendly with my cousin in high school.  In fact, it was through my
cousin Marc that I first heard the music of these two.  They'd recorded a
single as The Degrads that came out in 1982.  It was sorta eccentric new
wavey-punk with songs called "I Saw Bobbie Sobbing In The
Lobby"/"Frontal Lobotomy."  (The latter was my favorite, with lyrics like
"Look what they've done to me / Frontal Lobotomy / I'm thinking like a
tree...")
       I was really wondering if I'd like these guys on-stage.  Their records
tend to be a sort of weird jumble of a pop stew.  Tasty, though.  Well, as it
turns out, they're the same way live.  In fact, I enjoyed it more, possibly
because I could actually see the instruments.  And Jonathan's quirky
personality bounds even further into the forefront.  The band itself was
solid, with brother Sam on guitar, aided by occasional floutist and extra
vocals by Ms. Linda Smith, but it was Jonathan that made this whole show
really come alive.  He's not a typical frontman by any stretch of the
imagination.  He doesn't have the charisma of an Iggy Pop or a Handsome
Dick Manitoba, or even a Jonathan Richman.  However, he is entertaining,
jumping about a bit like a hyper leprechaun, happy as all hell to be up on
stage doing this thing.  And his enthusiasm was infectious; so many times
I found him bringing a HUGE smile to my face.  (Including when he
played the "smile chime.")  I went in unsure how the records would
translate to the stage experience; I didn't even know if I'd enjoy this thing.
I left the Mercury Lounge with a smile on the inside as well as the out.
       Some of the nuts out there will probably want to know what songs
they played.  I have the set list, so I actually could go straight down the
list.  I'm not going to, though.  Just a few highlights... They started with
"Lacing Up My Sneakers" which re-introduced audience members to
Jonathan's sort of off-kilter vocals and put us in the mood for what was to
come.  Many more "hits" ensued, some from the new LP, Out Of My
Depth (see LP reviews --- ed.), including the title cut.  My favorite, though,
was "Lilac Road," which made me wonder (unfortunately, near the end of
the song) if it had something to do with having lived in the Lilac City of
Rochester, NY.  The only disappointment of the show:  they didn't do an
encore.  Maybe next time, huh?

       Parking near the Mercury had been relatively simple.  (Dealing
with some of the Saturday night traffic was a pain in the you-know-what,
but finding a spot was easy.)  Not so for the Continental.  This, of course,
was no surprise, considering that the Continental is on 3rd Ave, just above
St. Mark's, a location I've always considered to be a sort of gateway to the
heart of the East Village.  It could've been worse, I guess; I only searched
for about a half hour.  Of course, the reason it only lasted that long was
probably that I finally gave up and headed east, ending up on 6th between
1st & A.  Not exactly close by the club, but... really, it wasn't even a half
mile, so it's hard to complain.
       Of course, this delay meant that I missed about 2/3 of The Lures
set.  For those who don't know, this is the name Walter Lure is now using
for his group, rather than The Waldos monicker (which has, I guess, been
retired.)  However, this bunch does pretty much the same set of songs the
old one did, and I walked in just as they were starting into "Too Much
Junkie Business."  Almost immediately, I ran into an old friend, Barbara,
who used to manage this club 4-5 years back, until she moved to
Nashville.  Guess this was the weekend for running into old friends.  It
was cool, too, 'cuz here she was, hanging out with another old Continental
mainstay, plus another one of the club's old manager's was there, too.  As
was I, and some good friends who were around at the time.  And up on
stage was Walter, with The Senders coming up next, and The Nines (with
ex-members of The Voodoo Dolls, another band who'd played the club
quite often) following.  It almost felt like it could be 1989-1990 all over
again.
       The Lures were really ON this time out.  The crowd seemed
supercharged; I know I certainly was, as were Ms. Jahna, The Platterpuss,
and Sir Mitro, as we all sang along with the rest of the set, including "One
Track Mind."  They really should've done an encore.
       The Senders were up next and they immediately informed us that
their second guitarist, Simon Chardiet, wouldn't be playing with them
tonight, since he was otherwise occupied over at Nightingales with the
Barsinisters.  I snuck a glance at the set list and noticed the proof that this
really wasn't 1989 - not one song on it had been part of their set back then.
In fact, the only one that was even in it 3-4 years ago was a cover of "Crazy
Date."  It didn't really matter, though, 'cuz they served up  a damn fine
helping of R&B/Blues that absolutely no one could help but enjoy, what
with Phillippe's soulful growl and Wild Bill's fiery blues guitar.  Now,
while I'd like to say that their cover of "Just Like A Tornado" was the best
song, 'cuz it was sent out to yours truly, the real highlight came when
Phillippe made his way into the audience for one of the most intense
versions of "Empty Heart" that I've ever been witness to.  Just more proof
that good musicians can make the most basic of tunes into something
special.  Quite the treat to see these guys again.  I just wish they'd get
themselves into a studio and record both their new stuff and their older
ones, like "When I Die I'll Be A Ghost" (a song the Stones could still make a
pile of cash with if they decided to cover it, though I'd much prefer these
got the green themselves) or "My Baby Glows In The Dark" (another one
that belongs back in the set.)
       Finally, it was time for The Nines.  I've been hot and cold on these
guys and gal pretty much since they started up about a year and a half
back.  Part of it, I'm sure, has to do with the fact that I was so nuts about
The Voodoo Dolls, and I miss hearing Evan's songs with Cam's vocals.
Tonight, though, they kicked it into gear right from the outset.  By the
second number, "It's About Over Now," I realized this set might really fly.
This one really moved!  As did most of the set, highlighted for me by their
cover of "Romeo & Juliet" and blasting right through the finish line with
"My Baby Loves To Cry."

       A couple weeks ago, I called up JT on a Friday night, to find out if,
by any chance, The Original Sins were playing out in their hometown of
Bethlehem, PA.  I was in the mood for a road trip and I figured that, if I
could get a friend or two into the car with me, I'd make the trek out to the
Funhouse.  Well, they were playing, but my friends weren't up for it and...
well, it was raining and I just didn't feel like going out by myself.  Which
is also why I blew off going down to Philly that night for Man or Astro-
Man? & The Hentchmen.  Then I ended up falling asleep and missing The
Gnats in NYC.  But in that phone conversation, JT mentioned that the Sins
would be playing Rodeo Bar on Tuesday night the 24th.  I still don't really
understand just why, but figured I hadn't seen them since late June ('cuz
I'd gone up to New Haven when they last played NYC), so I'd better grab
my chance and head down this time.  Well, that afternoon I stopped at the
Barnes and Noble free reading room on Rt. 17 in Paramus to check the
Village Voice to make sure this thing was on.  (Sorry, no way am I gonna
pay $1.25 for a paper that's free in Manhattan.)  Well, the Sins weren't
listed.  So when I got home, I called the club.  The guy mentioned a couple
other bands, but no Sins.  I called JT.  He said it was on, but he'd call
Bar/None, who'd set it up.  In the meantime, I did the same thing.  They
said it was on.  I waited an hour and called the club back.  Yeah, it's on.
But by the time I needed to go out the door (around 9:30), I was too beat to
move.  Guys, I really do apologize.

       I'd been planning on spending Saturday October 5th at CBGB's,
checking out The Trick Babys record release party, co-starring The Vacant
Lot, Killer Kowalski and a few other acts.  The Sunday before, however, a
message appeared on alt.music.banana-truffle, announcing a show at
Continental that same night.  So I took a look.  First up were the
Churchkeys.  OK, I didn't really know anything about them, tho' the name
sounded vaguely familiar.  Then The Itchies.  They're from Providence
and I'd seen them opening for The Kaisers this past Spring.  And The
Creatures of the Golden Dawn from Bethlehem, PA.  I've been seeing that
group in one form or another for about 10 years!  Topping the bill, though,
were The Talismen.
       I can't say I remember the first time I saw The Talismen.  That
memory must be hiding in the mist-shrouded part of my brain that
encompasses the mid-late 80s, bathing parts of it in a rosy glow and others
in unlit alleys.  Yeesh, and I didn't even do drugs.  No matter, it seems
likely that my first experience with these guys must've come at The Strip,
the NY garage scene's home base at the time, over on West 14th St, just
past 7th Avenue.  What I do remember is four wildmen from Maine
blasting out some of the most primal garage/R&B that I'd heard in quite
some time.  In short order, they became one of my fave bands of the
period.  By the end of the 80s, though, they were a memory.  A damned
great memory, but a memory just the same.
       Until this year.  In June, I got word that the guys would be
reuniting up in their hometown of Portland, Maine in the middle of the
month.  I was sorely tempted to go, but it was the weekend before school
ended and I had a ton of grading to do.  Next thing I know, they're
planning another reunion - the first weekend of August down here in
NYC, also starring The Insomniacs & The Gnats.  WOW!  One problem... I
was gonna be in Denver at Treble Fest.  ACK!!!  But, thanks to Ms.
Susan's posting on banana-truffle, I'd found out in time about the gig at
the Continental.
       I arrived early, catching a good portion of The Churchkeys set.
This group featured both Talismen guitarists, along with a couple other
regular NYC garage scenesters.  The predominant theme:  "ALE!"  This
group was a ton of fun, doing some pretty fun garage-y rockinroll.  Yeah, I
got pretty into it.
       Next up were The Itchies.  I really like their instro stuff quite a bit,
as they tend to get things going with a pretty strong backbone.
Eventually, though, they brought up their female vocalist to do a bunch of
songs.  This is where my problems with the band begin - and end,
actually.  Her voice is just too shrill for me.  There are times when she's
belting it out that her voice seems to pierce my eardrums.  The band's
solid behind her, but that vocal just pokes a hole right thru my skull.  I'd
like to hear them record some instros.
       Moving on then, to The Creatures of the Golden Dawn, one of the
longest-running groups on today's garage scene.  These guys have been
around since the mid-80s, albeit with an all-but-completely-different
lineup.  The only original member is vocalist Mark Smith.  Even original
rhythm guitarist Mike Smitreski has finally departed.  However, the
current group has had some stability, as both their lead guitarist and
drummer have been involved for quite some time.  In fact, this may be the
best Creatures lineup since the early days featuring Mark, Mike and the
three guys who formed The Original Sins (JT, Kenny Bussiere, & Dave
Ferrara.)  This night they blasted out some fantastic garage and psych
ravers, getting the smaller-than-proper audience moving.
       Hmm... that's something I should probably address.  Normally, a
lineup like tonight's would've had a pretty healthy crowd.  However,
NYC's garage audience has a finite number of participants.  Many of these,
myself included, are fans of the groups that were over at CB's.  Being that
many of them had seen the Talismen a couple months back and that it was
The Trick Babys record release party, they headed down there.
       That said, it was time for The Talismen.  From the beginning
rumble of "Spy Catcher," I knew I was in for a treat.  And when lead
singer Rick Chalmers took the stage after that, I knew everything was
gonna be alright with the world.  These guys haven't lost a thing.  They
bulldozed through all their biggest "hits" (including "Fleetwood" and
"Tiger In My Tank", one of the best 45s to come out of the late 80s).  My
only regret was that the place wasn't jam-packed with people going
apeshit.  'Cuz that's what these guys deserve every time they play.
Eventually, the set wound to a close.  I thought that'd be the last I'd hear
from these guys, too.  But they came back on... not for another song, but
for a whole 'nother set!  YEOW!  They whomped into covers and originals
alike, including the introduction to the band, "I'm Rick, and this is Doug...
I'm Rick, that's my brother, Jon...  I'm Rick, that's Ned," with the band
rollicking around behind.  When these guys do instro-type things, there's
no way anyone could possibly confuse it with surf.  This is a pretty
fantastic thing in this day of people thinking of just about any
instrumental as surf music.  With The Talismen, that mistake will never be
made; their instrumentals are pure gritty rock and roll with teeth and an
attitude.  I'm hoping they'll decide to do this on a more regular basis.
What's more, I'm hoping one of the cooler garage labels out there will
suddenly perk up and ask these guys to do a new record.  Personally, I
think today's garage scene could really use the kick in the pants The
Talismen can provide.

       If you'd asked me, back in my college years (the mid-80s), just who
The Dictators were, I'd've been hard-pressed to come up with an answer.
I probably would've gotten obnoxious.  ("I'll take historical world villains
for $1000, please, Alex.")  OK, maybe I might've caught a glimpse of one of
their LPs in a friend's collection.  To be honest, though, I'd never heard
'em.  Hey!  Gimme a break; nobody played the Dictators on regular rock
radio within broadcast distance of the North Shore of Long Island.  There's
a possibility they were played every once in a while on some small college
station, but that's probably about it.  And when I got up to school in
Rochester, believe me - nobody was playing The Dictators.  (No, Matthew,
not even you.)
       Most shows I'm perfectly happy going to alone, content in the
knowledge that I'm gonna run into a million people I know, anyway.
Now, while I'm certainly going to see a ton of the crowd at a Dictators'
show, I'm always happier when The Bluesman's along for the ride, 'cuz
he's just as nuts about 'em as I am.  And this time the Bluesguy was up for
the ride, too.  We took off from my place after I'd had a chance to catch the
Bobby Fuller segment on "Unsolved Mysteries" (talk about a crappy job),
arriving in time to catch the last few songs of the opening act.  I don't
know who they were, but I recognized these guys as long-time NYC
rock'n'roll fans.  And, while they were definitely into what they were
doing, and they played decent punk rock, I was reminded of the
difference between a mediocre band and one I'm willing to go out of my
way to see.  Simply put, I didn't feel any real uplifting spirit from them,
except during their inspired rocking-out on "Ring of Fire."
       Next up were George Tabb's latest project, Furious George.  I've
always considered George a nice guy.  On the other hand, I've never been
much of a fan of his music.  This has no bearing on whether it's good or
not - it's just that we don't have the same musical outlook.  In short, I
headed upstairs to hear what kinda rockabilly & country coolness John
Kopf was spinning.  Within minutes, there was a rockabilly band up on-
stage up there.  Most of 'em looked the part, except the singer, who had a
real East Village look.  Despite that, he had a truly incredible, pure
country/r'billy voice that really drew me in.  I gotta find out more about
these guys.
       Downstairs, then, for The Prissteens.  Normally, I'd spend a ton of
time going on about how damn good these gals are, and that was certainly
true tonight.  However, you're gonna be reading more about 'em from the
next weekend's show, so there's really not much point in talking about the
same music over and over again.  (Yeah, like I don't do that all the time,
anyway.  Let's get the real reason out right now; I'm just plain lazy.)
       On to the main event.
       The chant started up, "HDM - King Of Men.  HDM - King of Men!"
       Tonight The Dictators began with an old classic, "New York, New
York."  And right away the crowd was with them.  On then to another
number that appeared on the Manitoba's Wild Kingdom disc, "Haircut &
Attitude." Put these two together and you understand why the Dictators
are the quintessential NYC rock'n'roll group.  Now, I was already right up
front 'cuz of The Prissteens.  At this point, I'd allowed a young lady I'm
friendly with to take my place, while I stood a row in back of her.  Well, as
it turned out, that was a lousy place to be, 'cuz the things holding the
monitors started digging into her legs every time the crowd surged
forward.  (Bluesman wanted to write the review of this show and call it,
"'The Dictators at Coney Island High' or 'Where Did All The Assholes
Come From?'"  She promptly hopped up and sat next to one of the
monitors, leaving me to get my legs mashed.  Uh, thanks.  On then to
"Master Race Rock" from Go Girl Crazy.  Here's a song that came out 21
years ago and sounds as perfect now as it must have then.  (Sorry, I turned
10 late in 1975, I wasn't hip to these guys then.)  The set continued to fly
high, as they moved into old classics like "Faster & Louder" and "Baby
Let's Twist."  Then they hit the A-side of their new 45 on Norton (see
reviews - ed.), "I Am Right."  Talk about faster and louder.  Whew!  This
one is proof positive that Andy Shernoff can still pen perfect Dictators'
songs.  Nice to see that, considering that most bands that are still around
in any form 20 years later end up sucking royally.  Next up was a surprise,
a number I don't think they've done much the last couple shows they've
done around town, "Call Me Animal."  Now, I think it was around this
time that I took a seat next to the monitors, myself, content to dance
kneeling down for the rest of the show.  (Of course, this meant that after
the show it took me a while to actually be able to walk again, but - hey, it
was worth it.) Time for the "hit" from the Wild Kingdom LP, "The Party
Starts Now," and these guys blasted into the stratosphere.  A little while
later, Andy took over the mic for "Weekend," another one of my faves
from that first 'Taters LP.  When Andy sings, I'm reminded all over again
just how New York these guys are.  And it just seems so right.  A few
more songs, including "Search & Destroy," "Next Big Thing," and "Stay
With Me," and they were ready to wrap things up.  On the way out, Ross
the Boss did his usual hand-slapping for those of us in the front.  Of
course, they weren't really done yet.  Unfortunately, I don't remember
what songs they did during the encores, except that they were fantastic.
Once again, The Dictators have managed to do a damned fantastic show,
putting most much younger, full-time bands to shame.
       DFFD.

       Most set lists are written on the back of a flyer, on a clean sheet of
paper, a dirty napkin, or (these days) printed out earlier in the day from a
computer.  The Prissteens list for their show on Saturday October 26th was
on top of some Calvin Klein fragrance ad ripped out of a magazine.  Well,
the one I got was, anyway.  What does this mean?  Probably that they
needed a piece of paper for the set list.
       I skipped out on dinner early, jetting into Manhattan as fast as I
could 'cuz I was running late.  Around 5th Ave & 23rd, the city erupted:
horns started blowing; people were heard shouting in the streets, out of
windows, and from the bars; firecrackers were exploding.  Using my
Holmesian powers of deduction, I figured The Yankees had just taken the
World Series.  Oh, goodie.  Now, long-time readers will recall my avid
distaste for the Pinstriped Pinheads.  I was born and bred a Mets' fan.  But
the strike a couple years back took the taste for major league baseball out
of my mouth.  The players and owners got richer while the vendors and
fans got poorer.  What crap.  So I'm pretty much off baseball.  Still, though,
Joe Torre is the Yankees' manager.  Like a couple of his current charges, he
used to be with The Mets.  More than that, though, Joe is a New Yorker,
himself.  Now, ordinarily, that wouldn't mean all that much to me.  But
Joe's not just a NYer; he came out of the Brooklyn sandlots from a time
when the Parade Grounds Leagues hatched some of the great major-
leagues.  My father played in those same leagues.  I remember when Torre
was managing the Mets, my dad would tell me stories about playing in
those days for the Cavaliers.  I guess Joe was a bit younger than my father,
as Dad talked more about playing against Joe's older brother, Frank (who
also played in the big leagues).  Somehow this connection made me want
them to win.  Am I now a Yankees fan?  Hell, no!  I hope they have to wait
another 50 years before their next one.  Maybe Torre could come back to
the Mets and bring them to the Series.  Them, at least, I wouldn't feel as
bad rooting for.
       OK, enough with the baseball crap.
       I got to the East Village and actually managed to find a parking
spot within a couple minutes.  This is pretty amazing, considering that it's
gotten so hard to find a spot in the last year.
       Not long after I showed up, The Prissteens took the stage.  I'm
beginning to realize that these gals & guy are fast becoming one of my
fave bands in town.  They've got a spirit and passion that gets me really
moving.  They began this set the way they've begun the past few I've seen,
with a version of "Wildman."  A little while later, they hit one I'm pretty
nuts about "What's She Got."  Things were going pretty well, but when
they hit "Oh Billy," I realized they'd just been warming up.  After this, they
blasted into The Sonics' "Shot Down," then on to one of my faves from
their set, "Hercules."  "Beat You Up" is another of my faves, as they get
almost girl group-esque, but in a tough, nasty way.  The set drew to a
close with "Going Out," a number that gets me raving all over every time.
This one sounds like Supercharger & The Statics.  Speaking of which, they
covered Supercharger's "Sooprize Package For Mr. Mineo," a number they
credit to The Mummies.  (Hey, to be fair, most people never heard
Supercharger's version.  And nowhere near enough people know about
the cool cover The Statics did of it.)  They came back for an encore, too,
doing a rough cover of The Undertones' "Teenage Kicks."  Sure, it was
jagged and all, but I had a big smile on my face.
       Next up were The Original Sins.  I think I've been seeing these guys
as long as they've been a live act (roughly ten years.)  Now, the fact that
they have been at it for this long without any tangible results seems to be
taking its toll on JT. (Sure, they were critics' darlings some 6-7 years ago,
but that and fifty cents will get you a game of pinball.)  Honestly, I can't
blame him.  These guys made some of the best records around and so few
of us paid attention.  And it's not only the major music media that ignored
them, either.  Most of the underground seems not to have noticed how
damned great they are, either.  Hell, it pisses me off.  (Of course, you're
listening to a guy who used to drive out to Bethlehem once or twice a
month just so he could see them more often.)  To some extent, the garage
scene has ignored them, as well.  There have been times where a ton of
people on the NYC scene really loved them.  Unfortunately, not nearly
enough of those are still around and into the group.  You folks ought to
get with it - the Sins are still one of the best around.  Are they pure
garage?
Hell, no.  As Glynis Ward writes in the new Feline Frenzy, The Sins are
heavily influenced by the cool garage/60s stuff we're all nuts about, and
use that as a launching point to create killer rock'n'roll that belongs to the
present.  This is one of the most talented bands out there.  Here's a group
that can be romping through a fuzz monster one minute and moping
through a melancholy pop number the next; screaming out punk attitude
one second and hitting high-energy power pop the next; hell, they can
even do killer surf instros when they want to; or psychedelic weirdness.
       Tonight started out with JT sitting in a chair.  The first 10-15
minutes of the set featured JT ranting and raving about... everything,
mainly coming back to the themes of playing the same places for ten years
and things about alcohol and fear, etc.  And being losers.  Meanwhile, the
band just put down a quiet groove behind him.  Eventually, he called
Maria Stoiancheff out to sing backing vocals, as he slowly started to get
out of his chair.  So, what next?  Requests, please.  I have no idea why, but
I yelled out for "I Can Only Give You Everything."  JT said, "Let us get
warmed up first" and went into "Turn You On."  True to his word, though,
they went right into my request next, getting things going wild.  The set
ended up being mainly requests, with favorites like "Beast In Me,"
"Juicyfruit," and "Watch You Dance" gracing the set.  They ended up
getting a bunch of us dancing with big smiles on our faces.  The long wait
through the free-form section had paid off.
       I'm going to leave off with this... Go out and see The Original Sins
whenever you can.  They're one of the best bands out there and they
deserve your support.  Maybe if real rock'n'roll fans start paying some
attention to them, they'll start doing turbocharged shows on a regular
basis again.  I wish some of the cool garage labels out there would put out
some material by them... and maybe end up getting them to tour outside
the NYC-Bethlehem-Philly triangle, something they haven't done for a
long, long time.  In the meantime, do yourself a favor and track down
their first couple records.  You'll thank me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
KEEPERS NOT COASTERS

       OK, I'm starting all over.  I've been trying to get a handle on the
new Cub disc, Box of Hair (Mint) for a few weeks now.  As Roberta said,
"this ain't the Cub of yore."  So throw away all preconceptions, reformat
that section of your internal hard drives, etc.  Of course, it's not quite
Monty Python's "And Now For Something Completely Different..."  'Cuz
it's not.  Completely different, that is.  It's just a bang on the head, knock
to the noggin', brain-shaker.  The promo materials I saw called this Cub's
"punk" album.  And a case can certainly be made, what with three of the
tracks falling into that ever-expanding classification.    The "whys" of this
will probably be debated endlessly amongst those with absolutely nothing
better to do.
"Maybe it's 'cuz they toured with The Queers & The Muffs last year,"
sayeth Joe Schmoe.
"Nah," replyeth girlfriend Jane Sane, knowingly, "They're just tired of
being called  'cute.'"
No matter how you take the Ginsu to the reasons behind this, Box of Hair
could easily be subtitled "Cuddlecore No More!"  They sequence things
wisely, grabbing the listener by the collar right away with "Freaky."
Kinda saying, "Look, we're gonna do this OUR way and if you don't like
it you might as well take off now."  But there's a nice melody riding this
rollercoaster, too.  Maybe that's supposed to be translated as, "but if you
hang on, you might just get the ride of your life."  'Cuz this one's actually
damn good.  Another one of my faves of the "punk" contingent on this
disc is "One Last Kiss."  This one's got just as much of a  beat and even
more sweetness to make the ride that much more of a thrill.  This is the
kinda number they'll be able to use to grab another audience segment -
those punk kids who are at the show for some other band, but showed
up/stayed out earlier/later.  After they hear this one and jump around a
bit, I'm betting they'll give the band chance and end up smiling along with
the rest of us.  There's a bunch more I like on this disc, too.  "Mom & Dad"
ranks high on my list.  Not quite as fast, certainly, as "One Last Kiss," but
it'll probably be one of the biggest hits amongst Cub fans of old.  It's got
the same kind of bright, hit-it-dead-on-right-away-with-a-smile as "My
Chinchilla" way back on Betti-Cola.  There are also many more varied
sounds on this record; some more musical layers than before, too.  There
are also more mid-tempo numbers, some bouncy, some more down.
Honestly, I'm still trying to get a handle on this one.  Maybe I won't be
able to.  Maybe that's OK.  Every Cub fan will want this disc.  As for the
rest of you... well, I might not use this to introduce the band to everyone,
but I certainly would choose it to get some of the more aggressive types in.
Check it out.
       If you're into melodic punk rock in the vein of the early Ramones,
there's absolutely nobody better than The Queers.  They've been riding the
high road for a couple years now and Don't Back Down (Lookout) proves
they're gonna keep cruising it for a long time to come.  This one ranks
right up near the top of the Queers' discography for me, thanks to an
abundance of tracks that I want to sing along with time and time again.
These range from the mid-tempo of "Punk Rock Girls" to the slow love
song strains of "Number One" to the faster sounds of a number like "Love
Love Love."  Also included are a couple covers, including one of The
Beach Boys' "Don't Back Down," which serves to remind us once again
that these guys are pretty much a perfect marriage of the beautiful sounds
of those sweet, early-mid 60s surf vocal sounds to the need to really move,
the kick in the pants of punk rock.  Of course, the disc also hands over the
pure punkin' out of "I'm OK, You're Fucked."  On the other hand, there's
the last track on this work of perfection, "I Can't Get Over You," sung by
Cub's Lisa Marr.  Besides the incredible beauty of the melody and the nice
contrast of Lisa's voice with the rest of the disc, there's the pairing of Lisa
and Joe's voices on parts of this one.  These duet parts are the kind of thing
that remind me just how good pop music can make you feel.  That last
song was not only co-written by Lisa & Joe, but by JJ Rassler, who co-
produced this one with Mass Giorgini.  For the completely clueless among
you, ex-DMZ guitarist Rassler was a member of The Queers for a nice
stretch in the 80s.  JJ also lends a hand on guitar on parts of this disc.  It's
cool to see him involved with the band again.  So, when the Queers are in
Boston, I'd suggest going to the show, 'cuz there's a chance JJ will join
them onstage (as he did in August of '95.)  OK, enough about that.  Last
thing to mention is yet another guest star, Chris Horne of The Brood on
Farfisa.  I'm not sure how many tracks she's featured on, but I can
definitely hear her on "Janelle, Janelle," one that also features some really
rockin' guitar sounds (they sound like they might be JJ, but what the hell
do I know about guitar styles).  The only thing I don't like about this disc
is that I don't want to take it off so I can get around to reviewing
everything else.
       I have absolutely no idea why I thought that The Mount McKinleys
were a surf group.  Well, whatever the reason, Portrait Of A Mindbender
(Get Hip) laid waste to that notion pretty effectively.  These Pittsburgh
predators are pure cavemen, getting down in the dirty corners of the
garage.  It's bands like these guys that make me long for the days of The
Strip and The Mind's Eye.  Thanks to people like Gary & Deb and Anne &
Ivy, NYC could always count on hearing some new wildness come in
from out of town and give us something new to rave about.  That's the
way things happened with groups like The Talismen, The Cynics, The
Voodoo Dolls and so many more.  What was cool about those things was
that they had a built-in audience.  Those places could count on a certain
core group of people to show up.  And if the out-of-town act was good,
the next time they came through they'd be guaranteed a better turnout.
The Mount McKinleys would've fit into that scene nicely, with some nice
fuzz, a bit of psychedelic mindbending and the occasional instro.
Speaking of those, these guys serve to remind us of something Pat Lozito
wrote in about last ish - all instrumental rockin' and rollin' is NOT surf.
Now, while I dug the title of "Oscar Goldman Jr." (three Teen Scene points
to anyone who can dig up the reference on that one), it was "Operation:
Accumulate" that really twisted my knobs.  It gets a move on and keeps it
going all the way thru, and in a completely unsurf-like way.  Right
between these is one of the most pop-oriented numbers on this disc, the
all-too short "Bigger Box."  The more I listen, the more I realize that what I
like most about this disc is the pure garage guitar sounds.  I'm hoping
we'll hear more from this bunch.
       The Satelliters' Hi Karate (Dionysus) starts off with a delightfully
trashy version of The Kinks' klassik "All Day &All of the Night" that
accomplishes everything the band could hope, setting the tone for a damn
fine disc..  They don't exactly up the fidelity for their own "Blue Madness,"
but it's not buried six feet under, either (like some stuff I could mention).
This one's a garage lament with the guitar crying jagged tears and an
organ hiding underneath.  Especially cool is the way the rhythm track
sounds like some sort of Link Wray instrumental.  The only song on here
that kinda creeps me out is "Voodoo Dolls," which resides in a sort of
murky bog that few in GarageLand like to get near.  Maybe 'cuz it's eerily
similar to Bauhaus or something like that.  Things pick up on Side 2 again.
Covers included here are "Jack The Ripper" and Jonathan Richman's
"Oasis" for a touch of the Arabian mystique.  All in all, though, my
favorite track is "We Don't Care," listed as the first track on the second
side.  This one sounds like a garage take on some Beatles '65 type thing,
right down to those clanking chords banging out like clockwork.  The last
band I remember hearing do this kind of thing was The Swing Set, but this
is much grittier (though underneath all the delightful grime is still a nice
pop gem.)  The organ comes furthest to front, setting a sort of cold, dark,
uncertain tone on the last two numbers:  "Prisonshake" is a haunting
instrumental, while "Celebration" (where I could swear they're saying
something about all meeting at Deep Space Nine) gets kinda psychedelic,
with occasional hints at "I See The Truth" by The Optic Nerve & Headless
Horsemen.  This is one I'll be playing for a while.  And I look forward to
their next one.
       Talk to just about anyone in California who's got a real clue about
surf sounds and they'll tell you The Bomboras are where it's at.  Not only
are they at the top of the surf heap, but they're said to do a damn fun
show.  Well, their recordings are all I've got to judge them by, personally,
and - as you've seen me write in this space before - they come out tops in
that heap, too.  Swingin' Singles (Dionysus) is just what the title implies:  a
collection of seven-inchers and miscellaneous other tracks, some of them
unreleased.  Seeing as I've reviewed probably half these songs before
("Forbidden Planet," "Time Bomb," "Surfin' Bull," etc.), I'm not gonna
spend too much time on a song by song.  The Bomboras knife their way
through the rest of the pack not only through superior material and
musical attitude, but with the excellent use of organ to provide the right
mood coloring ("Surfin' Bull" being one of the prime examples.)  Coolest
for me is "Drag Strip Tease," from the Lord Hunt vs. The Bomboras EP on
Screaming Apple.  This stuff is some of the most savage garage-surf I've
ever heard.  Mainly primitive garage, but with a surf backing that propels
it even further.  It sort of reminds me a bit of the early Mummies with a
surf backdrop.  Whatever you want to call it, this is something I'm damn
glad is now in my greedy li'l paws.  From the same 7"er, too, is a cool
cover of "Chunky," a number I first flipped over back when the Raunch
Hands used to do it.  This one's got more of a pure surf feel than that
version, though.  Amongst the unreleased tracks, there's a version of
"Tube City" (hmm... another one the Raunch Hands did), along with
"Skater Dater."  Simply put, anyone who wants to hear some of the best
surf instro sounds of today would do well to run down to the record store
and grab this one.
       Boss 302 are something apart from most groups currently
associated with the garage scene.  While they thank people like The
Mummies, Billy Childish and Ray Davies, they've got more in common
with The Saints & The Misfits.  Their sound, while faintly echoing the
garage crunch, is lean and hard.  To get a true feel for their debut disc,
aptly titled Rock Songs (360 Twist), I advise you to crank it up on your car
stereo (in my case, a crappy boom box that I stick behind my seat for
maximum volume).  See, while, this'll sound great comin' out of your hi-fi
back at the homestead, these guys have a sound made for the automobile.
(But you could probably figure that out from the name.)  Kinda makes me
yearn for the car I learned to drive on, a circa 1970 Pontiac Catalina that
could blow the wheels off any Trans-Am that pulled up next to it.  To put
it simply, these guys are Big American Car rock.  The sound is hard and
they'll leave your mini-compact breathing noxious fumes just for fun.
(Sadly, that includes my own little Smurfmobile, as well.  Much as I'd like
to get another one of those American beauties of some 25-30 years back,
I'm forced to face a grim economic reality.  But enough about me.)  I keep
wanting to tell you about one song in particular (or even a few), but when
it comes right down to it, once you start blasting this one on your way
home from work, you're gonna want to hear the whole dang thing.
       I came way too close to relegating The Shambles' Clouds All Day
(Blindspot) to the back porch.  That's what's known as "reviewer's
burnout."  As I started saying way back in the intro, this mag didn't start
out as a record reviewer's paradise.  I did my level best back in the early
days to avoid the things.  Now, though, I've taken this Herculean task on
as best I can.  Being a procrastinator, though, it means I end up with a
gazillion things to review at the last minute.  I got a real good start this
summer when I put myself on a schedule.  With school back in session,
though... well, I just haven't had the time.  Which is why this one almost
ended up in the back bin.  This weekend, though, is the one Roberta works
each month, so I've got no excuses to keep from doing my duty to you,
Devoted Reader.  So I've been letting this spin for a while today... Yeesh!
This is one fine disc.  Chock full of Mod-isms, with some beautiful Beatle-
spots (love that "Colour Swirl.")  Throw in some organ and a few garage
rave-ups ("I Can't Don't Want To," for instance, gets the blood boiling
hotter and hotter as it rolls on down the tracks) and this is a disc for
everyone with even a wee bit of taste.  The Shambles are one of those
bands that have strong roots in the mid-80s garage scene, but have now
become darlings of the power pop set, as well.  And I can listen to this disc
over and over and pray one day to hear them on a bill with The Mockers,
'cuz they'd be a perfect tag team.  All or most of this material has been
released in some form before, but this'll be the perfect way to hear it all at
once.  And for those of you who don't have a damn idea what they're like,
this is the perfect collection.
       As long as we've got The Shambles & The Mockers on a bill
together, we're gonna need someone to open the show.  In the disc player
right now, I've got Duotang, a couple guys outta Winnipeg who seem to
be fans of most things Weller-esque.  By now, they're probably damn sick
of that comparison, but it's probably the easiest latch for people to grab
onto them with, so there it is.  It's true, too, considering that, on Smash The
Ships And Raise The Beams (Mint) they seem to range between PW's early
Jam-smash and later Style Council-mellowness.  A nice touch is the
Hammond-style organ (for all I know, it's a Korg like Dan McKinney of
the O. Sins used to use... not that it matters).  Some nice darker material,
too ("Slowdown.") Interesting note here:  no one seems to play guitar...
we've got drums by one guy with the other playing bass and/or organ.
Cool.
       Mondo Topless have been around for a few years now.  Finally,
though, it looks like they're settling on a permanent lineup.  I'm guessing
Sam Steinig (vocals/organ) sure hopes so; he's the only original member
left and he's probably damned sick of trying to find band members all the
time.  Especially in a town like Philly where it seems there's nowhere near
enough garage nuts.  Regardless, the lineup on Fifty Thousand Dollar
Hand Job (360 Twist) sure seems to have slotted the groove.  Leading off is
"Dragstrip," one I believe they've been doing for a while and it sets the
scene for the disc, Vox Continental spook-tone B-movie sounds
punctuated by some cool guitar drippings.  The only problem many in
today's scene have with this group is that they're not fast enough.  In other
words, they don't play the "faster is better" game.  Which is not to say that
they play slow; they just don't rush their way to the finish line.  Sure,
they'll pick up the tempo when it suits their needs ("Nothing's Gonna Hurt
You"), but on a song like, say "Tease," they get the 60s go-go thing going
nicely.  Think back now to your fave 60s go-go party flick.  Would you
want to see everyone having shakin' fits or do you (like me) dig the way
everyone's moving?  I think another problem some people have with the
group is the fact that, whether they realize it or not, this is a group that's
way into The Doors.  Now, to me that's a plus, but to some folks in this
crowd, it's a pretty major strike against anyone.  So be it.  Personally, I
think this is a perfect marriage of said group with garage-psych cool.  And
(no surprise here), I love Sam's organ solo in "Real Gone Girl."
       So you're into the swingin' sounds of the Medway Delta, you say?
The Milkshakes, Thee Headcoats, The Kravin' A's, and the like, eh?  Well,
their French counterparts, The Squares, are back for another run at Toe
Rag Studios in lovely London, with Mr. Liam Watson doing the knob-
twiddling for this, their latest disc, Squarification (Get Hip).  Just about
everything contained herein will probably get fans movin' across the floor.
As per usual, it's the Diddley-shufflin' and Kinks sounding stuff that gets
my tail feathers shaking.  In other words, their version of "Goin' Home"
gets put on repeat on my digital hi-fi.  "Another Lie" also has an appealing
chunkiness to it that draws me in.  Earlier on, there's "Learn That Law,"
which is probably the most Childish thing contained herein.  Hmm... I
think I should've gotten The Bluesman to pen this review - he's absolutely
nuts about these guys.  Well, let's finish it up with the title cut.  First
time I
heard this, I was nowhere near the casing.  It sounded to me like they
were chanting "The Hippy Nation," rather than "Squarification."
Somehow, though, that just didn't quite make sense with the Heap Big
Cannibal Chief thing going on (ie. "Me eat your flesh, cut your bollocks
off...").
       We're gonna end this up with a disc that's gonna be in the running
for my "Best of Year" honors, the latest from The Subsonics, Everything Is
Falling Apart (Get Hip).  Many bands have pretty much fallen apart
themselves by the time they get to their third disc.  The Subsonics, on the
other hand, appear to have just been warming up; this disc is easily their
best yet.  On their earlier efforts, they faced criticism from some quarters
(the hindquarters) that all their stuff sounded alike.  Now, while those
jerks obviously knew naught of which they wrote, I can't see how even
they could say that about this one.  This latest ranges all over the place,
but somehow it all belongs.  This is a band with a sound I think of as
extremely New York City, perhaps due to the Velvet Underground feel of
it.  Thankfully, that quality is NOT like so many VU pretenders; The
Subsonics have an identity all their own.  Their VU influence is much
purer - and at the same time they've taken it to new places.  They show an
uncanny ability to imbue it with melodies that'll grab a spot in your
cranium and just stay there.  Period.  This is one of those records that I
haven't been able to keep off my stereo for a day since I got it.  Yeah, it's
that good.  Really, it gives me hope.  I mean, I've been into this group since
their first single, when they first journeyed up this way and they crashed
at my place.  They're completely different from most of the other stuff I
flip out over.  They're not a melodic punk rock group like, say The Queers;
they're not a marriage of punk and garage like The Smugglers; they're not
like The Muffs; they're also nothing like The DM3 or anyone else in the
power pop camp today; they're nothing like The Rooks, Permanent Green
Light, or anyone of that ilk; and they're not like The Devil Dogs, either;
and they certainly don't qualify as a garage-rockin' group.  Maybe it's that
undefinable thing about them that adds to their appeal; there's absolutely
nobody else that sounds like The Subsonics.  I just can't say enough good
things about this group or this CD.  With each song I change my mind
about which one's my favorite, from the start of "I Didn't Think You Could
Take It" all the way thru the end, with the title cut.  Some of it is cutting,
challenging, or derisive, while other material is more melodic.  And there's
even the slow ballad, "Shady Side of the Street," with that NY feel inflected
with a Southern accent somehow.  "Reflections of a Gutter" is most notable
for the cool, Mo Tucker-like drumming, somehow... off, but completely
making the song.  There's only a couple tracks on here that pass the two
minute mark, with the 15 songs clocking it at 24:20.  But this is 24 minutes
that stays on repeat.  Repeat. Repeat.  I just wish they'd move to NYC.
       The Groovie Ghoulies are one of those bands that've been around
for eons, but are only now gaining real attention.  Just another reason why
it's to a band's benefit to sign on the dotted line with Lookout; it's a label
with a built-in audience and a staff that really knows how to back up their
artists.  I was pretty wowed by their performance that night at Coney
Island High in September and their World Contact Day disc (Lookout, like
I said) just made me an even bigger fan.  First off, we've got an alien
overlord telling us that his planet has spent nearly fifty years being
bombarded by radio transmissions of our "crappy rock'n'roll," asking if we
can't come up with one reason why he shouldn't just obliterate us.  "You
have 28 minutes." (Which, by the way, is the time of the music on this
disc.)  Uh, thanks, Kramar, old planetary pal.  Well, gang, it's a good thing
we've got The Groovie Ghoulies on our side.  They begin their eloquent
defense with Neil Diamond's "Hello Again," with a Ramones-styled intro.
>From there, they move on to Groovies' central, something some
needlenoses will want to simply chalk up as melodic punk.  Now, of
course it is melodic punk, but there's a much more traditional rock'n'roll
undercurrent running through here.  This group obviously has a sense of
rock'n'roll history.  If they come off reminding us mainly of punk, that's
cause it's a form they can have the biggest effect in the shortest amount of
time.  And they're so damn infectious.  The subject matter, too, is light-
hearted, from "Running With Bigfoot" to the "Island of Pogo Pogo."  But
it's stuff like "When The Kids Go Go Go Crazy" that really sends me flying
into the stratosphere and beyond, hopping up and down, boppin' my
head like... who the hell knows what.  Now, like I said, these guys know
rock'n'roll didn't begin with punk.  And that a punk-oriented band should
show some versatility.  So dig on "Lonely Heart Blues" as they root back
for a gritty ballad, baring their hearts for the object of their collective
affection.  A bit later on, there's a cover of "Singing The Blues," a cool
country lament that'll have you crying in your beer if you let it.  Speaking
of covers, I hadn't looked at the CD cover when I first put this on and
suddenly I hear this song I remember from my undergrad days in
Rochester, NY in the mid-80s, when my pal LJ and I would spin discs for
each other over at the radio station between the end of our 10 AM classes
and lunch.  It was Billy Bragg's "A New England," probably my favorite
track by him, and one of those songs that defines that time for me.  And
the Groovie Ghoulies do it proud, with a touch of The Ramones.  Thanks,
gang.  Oh yeah, thanks to the Ghoulies, we got a reprieve.  So thank 'em
and buy this disc.

       You'd think it'd be easy to write a review of one of your favorite
artists of all time.  Not so.  Well, actually, I'm sure for some people it's
simple; I've never been one of those, though.  Writing record reviews is
one of those things that ties me up in knots.  That said, some records are
worth as much time as I can give them.  That's one explanation for why
I've been listening to The Bobby Fuller Four El Paso Rock:  Early
Recordings Volume 1 (Norton) pretty much non-stop since I got it.  Some
pretty damn fine stuff has come in while I've been in the midst of this, but
I've been putting it aside until I had a chance to digest this incredible new
treasure trove of Bobby Fuller material.  As it turns out, though, after a
solid week of listening to this disc, I'm finally realizing that I'll never
get it
all down - there's just too much fantastic music inside to keep inside.  It
just keeps bubbling out of me, getting me movin' all over.
       The disc starts off with a wild version of "El Paso Rock," a live gem
written by a local legend named Long John Hunter.  Just listen to the boys
get revvin' on this one and you'll get an idea of just how hyped they
must've gotten those crowds going back there in West Texas.  This is one
of those wild R&B/Texas Blues things that just goes!  The guitar takes the
lead and just goes wild as the rest of the band provides the drive.  Next up
is a number The Swingin' Neckbreakers have been workin' out on in the
past year or so, "Shakedown."  For those who've never heard it before,
you'll appreciate the Fuller purity here, as well as a simply out-of-this-
world guitar lead.
       One of the things I've always admired about Bobby Fuller was his
ability to carry ballads and slower love songs.  So many wild rock'n'roll
acts know how to hit it hard, but have no clue that there's another side.
The Bobby Fuller Four, though, not only did ballads, but they pulled them
off as well as they did the rockers and dance numbers.  For instance,
there's "Guess We'll Fall In Love," a long-time BF4 fave of mine.  But it
goes way beyond just one song.  Check out "Unreliable Irresistible Girl,"
extremely Buddy Holly, complete with the rest of the band doing a damn
good take on the backing vox, beautifully Cricket-like.  Actually, I think
that's always been one of the keys to my love of Bobby Fuller - his own
admiration for the music of Buddy Holly.  Bobby understood the power of
Buddy's music, how the slower ones could say so much.  To that end, he
did his level best to come up with his own take on Buddy's ideas.  He
succeeded beyond anyone's wildest expectations.  There's also the
melancholy-sounding "Nancy Jean" that reminds me of nothing so much
as The Everly Brothers meeting up with The Beau Brummels.  While there
are many more of these, I've always been partial to "You're In Love," a
brighter number that, nevertheless, fits on the purer side of the band.
Simple and bright, with short lyrical lines, rhyming easily and flowing in
and out.  A smile goes on my face every time I hear it.
       The Bobby Fuller Four will forever be best known for "I Fought The
Law."  It's found on here in an earlier incarnation, a bit rawer and with the
original lyrics.  Listen closely.  But that's hardly the only rocker here.
Covers include "Rock House," "Nervous Breakdown," "Summertime
Blues," "Keep A Knockin'", "Do You Wanna Dance," and a wild live
medley of "Louie Louie," "Farmer John," and their own "Jenny Lee."  Not
only do these covers show the incredible rock'n'roll power of this
legendary group, but they remind us where some of our fave modern
garage acts got much of their inspiration.  For instance, The Untamed
Youth and Fortune & Maltese are obviously major Fuller fans.  Geez, that
medley keeps ringing in my head.
       There's tons more fantastic stuff on here, too.  Bobby could write
some real rockers, as well, like "King of the Beach," "Pamela" (this was
probably big at the dances at the teen club), "Keep On Dancing," co-
penned with brother Randy, and one that's completely new to me,
"Bodine," but sounds like one of those perfect mid-60s dance numbers that
always gets me out on the floor and movin'.
       OK.  I'm gonna shut up about this.  You need this disc.  Buy it.  Like
NOW!!!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
ALL TOGETHER NOW

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CD Sounds
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       Yeah, I know, everyone's sick of tributes.  Or so they say.  As soon
as one comes out paying homage to one of their fave groups, they hop
around like mad saying how great it is.  But I agree, the concept of tribute
records is all but worn out.  Which doesn't make it any less fun when the
songs are good and the bands know what they're doing.  Let's face it, most
Teen Scene readers probably have little interest in hearing a Genesis
tribute with cuts by the Spin Doctors, etc.  But give us something like the
Sam the Sham tribute a couple years ago, with tracks by the Untamed
Youth, Handsome Dick Manitoba, The A-Bones ad infinitum and just
about everyone went nuts.  Well, another truly worthy comp is Here
Comes The Summer - The Undertones Tribute Compilation (Square
Target).  I got this yesterday and it's been the soundtrack to my whole
day, just repeating over and over, from Cub belting it out with a big smile
and Nardwuar guesting on organ all the way through Racetrain's
finishing touches on "Casbah Rock."  One of the best things about The
Undertones was always the exuberance of their music; it was bouncy and
full of life.  While most of the groups featured on this tribute certainly
imbue the songs with their own personalities, few (if any) lose that
overflowing cup of excitement that made me love them in the first place.
Pansy Division do an incredible job with "Male Model" and Clay Wheels
rev "Top 20" up a bit faster than the original, hitting the "Hey! Hey!
Hey!"s nice and hard.  UFOFU (well, the second 'F' is supposed to be
backwards to turn it into a symmetrical thing, but I'm not about to muck
around with that kinda stuff right here) are probably the oddest thing on
this, giving "Wednesday Week" a Cobain-like vocal treatment.  Not bad,
though.    The Smugglers were practically born to cover an Undertones'
number and do a really fun version of "She's A Runaround."  To me, both
the Undertones and The Smugglers have always been about a good time,
so this made me pretty happy.  My favorite track on the comp is easily The
Vacant Lot's version of "More Songs About Chocolate And Girls."  Now,
it'd be easy to dismiss my pick of this one as favoritism shown to a group
I've been nuts about for years... but it's much more than that.  Let's face it,
there's a damn good reason I've gone crazy to the sounds of The Vacant
Lot all these years: they're a great group.  On here, we're reminded of all
the things that made them catch our attention in the first place... they
capture the melody beautifully, keep the energy at just the right balance of
kinetic and potential (so as to keep some of it in check to keep tempting
the user), and interpret the songs longing for its subjects with true
understanding.  It's not the individual instruments, but the way they come
together with Pete's voice.  This is the high point for me.  Which isn't to
say the rest is a downer, 'cuz there's still lots left to love.  The Queers, as
most readers probably understand by now, are nuts about fantastic
melodies played at punk speed.  (Just listen to them do a Ramones
number... or maybe their revving up of the Beach Boys' "Hawaii".)  Well,
The Undertones are another band they've probably been dying to get to
for ages and they've done themselves proud on "Get Over You."  "Girls
Don't Like It" was always one of my fave Undertones tracks and Pluto do
a nice job with it.  (I would love to have seen this appear on their Virgin
debut, but I'm guessing that just isn't gonna happen.. But I guess you'll
know by the time you read this.)  The Milkduds, as I explained in my
review of their 4-songer last ish, were put together mainly to cover
Milkshakes songs.  However, I guess since Curt Doughty is responsible for
this comp, they backed up a couple years to the Undertones and have
turned in a cool version of "Mars Bars."  The Shambles version of "It's
Going To Happen" may be one of the most different-sounding things on
this record, as it's got a real mod/power-pop/light Brit pop circa '89 thing
happening.  Definitely a nice change from the rest.  Another Undertones
favorite of mine was always "Teenage Kicks."  Now, I don't think The
Odd Numbers version can ever match the original, but that's OK, 'cuz
they pound it out with a real flair, making it sound like it'd really go over
well at a show.  Well, there's one or two I haven't gone over... not 'cuz
they're unworthy, but simply because I couldn't quite get the right handle
on them.  (Plus I've been writing for too long right now... and it's a nice
afternoon and I'd like to go sit in the park and read.)  So, to sum it up, this
thing's well worth your cash... a guaranteed good time.
       Some comps are nothing short of genius.  For me, East Side Sound
(Bacchus Archives CD/Telstar LP) definitely ranks in that number.  This
features primo East LA sounds from 1959 thru 1968, but weighs in heavily
in the '63 - '65 department.  Starting things off are Chick Carlton & the
Majestics with "So You Want To Rock" which is supposedly where Chick's
pal, Bobby Freeman, stole "Do You Wanna Dance?" from.   The comp
goes from these sweet late 50s sounds all the way through some harsher
garage punkers, spending time along the way in the tender souls of tough
city kids, and riding a weekend high with the bubbling enthusiasm of
teens out for a good time.  Included along the way are some instrumentals,
one of which is Gene Gray & The Stingrays' "Surfer's Mood" (which rips
off "Rumble" quite nicely).  There are also some novelties, one of which is
Arlen Sanders' "Hopped Up Mustang," featuring a narrator telling the
story of one wild night of hot-rodding. (It ends with the CHiPs copter
nailing him and Dad refusing to post bail.)  The best of the novelties,
though, is Las Dillys Sisters version of "Sometimes Good Guys Don't Wear
White."  Now, this is something that deserves a spot in the Rock'n'Roll
Hall of Fame.  Here we've got four Mexican girls from LA, none of whom
sounds like she's over 10 (probably a couple years younger, from their
voices).  This is hilarious.  A definite smile went on my face through this
one, especially the spoken part in Spanish.  It just sounds like they're so
earnest about it.  According to the liner notes, their dad bought 300 of the
records and they were never heard from again.  (Rock'n'Roll's such a harsh
business.)
       There are only four tracks from '66, two of which are by The
Romancers, "She Took My Oldsmobile" and "Love's The Thing."  Both
feature a marked change from the earlier sounds, showing a real garage
feel.  In fact, "Oldsmobile" even seems to predict the psychedelic sounds of
a couple years later in a way.  Personally, I like the other track better,
as it
starts with a ringing guitar caterwaul, then punches in with a jumping
beat and definitely gets things raging in the garage camp.  The other two
tracks from this year are from a Premiers' 45.  The first, "Get On This
Plane," has a mean fuzztone feel that's definitely looking for action, just
waiting for the freakout scene that's bound to happen... the tension's
building towards it the whole time.  Thing is, it never really lets fly.  Don't
get me wrong, it's a fantastic song, it just doesn't let the pent-up
frustration loose.  Wonder what they did with it live.  The flip is almost
completely different (except for the fact that it, too, has clouds hanging
overhead).  This one's got more of a folk-punk feel.  Either way, none of
them are anything like The Premiers of only two years before.  That was
the year of "Farmer John," one of the all-time great party records.  Now,
the flip of that is one called "Duffy's Blues," which seems like the number
every guy must've prayed for at the dances, since it meant slow dance
time.  The sax cries beautifully, the rhythm's calling for her head on the
guy's shoulder, and the guitar plays along with it, occasionally turning up
for a nice little affirmation of the what the sax is saying.  Beautiful.
       One of the big surprises found here is a 1963 track by Larry
Tamblyn & The Standells, entitled "You'll Be Mine Some Day."  According
to the interview with Eddie Davis (published in the liner notes), who
recorded all this stuff, this was actually just Larry with a bunch of studio
guys, but he wanted the name used.  Now, firstly, let's set the record
straight - this isn't the Standells' of garage fame.  In fact, it's not
even the
same group that played the Top 40 hits of the day before Ed Cobb got a
hold of 'em.  Nope, this is a much sappier, slow-dance 50s thing, kinda like
that "Duffy's Blues" thing The Premiers did the following year, but
without the sax.  (Interestingly, The Premiers' "Come On & Dream," a '66
release, was penned by Tamblyn.)
       One of my fave tracks is The Blendells' "La La La La," covered ably
years later by The Fleshtones.  This one's got tons of soul.  Move on to the
next track on the disc for the flip, "Huggie's Bunnies" and you'll find an
instrumental rave like the Bar-Kays havin' a food fight at White Castle.  I'd
like to hear The Enchantments' "I'm In Love With Your Daughter Pt. 1"
done by The Lyres one of these days, with Jeff Conolly doing the brassy
parts on the organ.  This one's got a real urgency to it and the guitar
breaks through just enough towards the end to really send it through.
       Now, this thing wouldn't be complete without Cannibal & The
Headhunters' classic, "Land of 1000 Dances."  And I'm guessing there's
nobody reading this who needs that one explained.  However, it's a real
treat hearing this one in its original context, along with other sounds from
the same scene.  Also included herein is their follow-up, "Nau Ninny Nau"
which doesn't quite succeed in following up the monster hit.
       A couple issues ago, I reviewed a 45 that featured Cannibal, as well
as one or two other groups, including The Atlantics.  Well, while this one
doesn't include my favorite track from that 7"er, "Fine Fine Fine," it does
come up with two others by those guys.  One of these is "Beaver Shot,"
found on the 7"er.  Personally, I'd've rather heard "Fine Fine Fine," again,
but at least we get one new one, "Sloop Dance," here, that shows the guys
had more like that fave of mine from a couple issues back.
       Hmm... I've written way more about this one than I ever intended.
Wish I could actually play sound clips of this in the middle of the print
version.  Of course, that'd probably make all my musings completely
unnecessary, wouldn't it?
       We're at the point now we're I don't have to mention just how
popular the power pop sound has become.  The latest comp to come down
the pike is 3 Minute Revolution (RPM USA).  Included herein are some
names already familiar to many readers:  The Rockinghams (see the article
from an ish or two back) with "Played A Trick"; The Shambles' "Delve Into
Everything" (a real strong one featuring a pretty, slightly Beatlesque
melody under a partially cloudy sky); The Pleasantries' "Innocence,
Ignorance" (reviewed as a single here); and The Jigsaws.  One of my fave
of the bands I didn't know was The Revelers, out of Cleveland, who are
firm believers in sunny mid-60s oriented pop, as shown on their "Bonded
To You."  This one's got one of those damn catchy choruses that deserves
to be heard from car radios as the sun sets and you ride into Friday night.
The Swingset Police's "5 4 3 2 1!" is a bit too commercial for my tastes, but
the basic song's pretty rockin' and it may catch on with some ears; the
hook for me was a piece which reminded me of a sped-up version of
Bobby Fuller's "Never To Be Forgotten."  No, it doesn't sound like it the
whole way through, unfortunately, but that one part just keeps bringing
me back.  I don't think I could listen to The Marmalades' "Republican Jerk"
over and over again, but it's certainly something I'll be listening to this
election season.  The lyrics certainly remind me much more of something
I'd've heard hanging out on the NYC anti-folk scene of the latter 80s than
on a power pop comp, but it's a welcome addition.  Hmm... looks like I'm
not the only one in this crowd who's sick of some of the crap out there.
Anyway, there's definitely some cool stuff on here.  Well worth seeking
out.

---------------------------
The Seven-Inch Side
---------------------------

       There was a ton of swingin' sounds available for purchase in the
Treble Fest merch room (a pool table with the cover, thankfully, thrown
over it).  I guess one of Thee Headcoats must be involved with Vendetta
Records, 'cuz there was a bunch of stuff from said English label and they
were the only  British band there.  Now, while there was a bunch of stuff
available, I wasn't familiar with all of it, so I decided on a seven-inch
sampler entitled For Vox Sake, with a picture of the Voxmobile on the
cover.  I didn't know all the bands involved, but I had some familiarity
with a couple of them, so I went for it.  The Green Hornets start things off
with "Geraldine," a cool mysterioso garage track.  Following them are thee
Cybermen, with a slower, more deliberate, soulful number.  This one
reminded me of some of the Lyres' slower material, but in a more lo-fi
way.  I'm gonna skip to The Percolators' next, with their take on "Be A
Caveman," one of those all-time 60s punk classics.  Maybe it's the song
they're covering here, but I kept thinking of a tougher, grittier, nastier
Neanderthals, much more into garage-punk than fun frat-rock.  This one
also features a beautiful Vox organ flavoring (and even an all-too-short
organ break.)  Lastly, I'll talk about the track I keep playing, "Down &
Out" by The Perverts.  Here's a band I first came across on the 'Net nearly
two years ago, surfing around using a text-only browser.  Damn, these
guys are good.  Fantastic snot-punk with just the right amount of melody
to counter it.  I gotta get more by 'em.
       Another killer 7" comp is Splitsville Confidential (Splitsville).
Leading it off are The Royal Pendletons with "Hod Rod Dissertation," a
garage hot-rod rant with chunky, powerful organ pumping me up and
revvin' all the way thru the finish line.  I say give the guy his doctorate in
Hot Rod-ology.  Next up, The Exotic Aarontones give us "The Gooch" (I
could swear I used to know a guy with that name in high school), instro
madness in the Hallowe'en spirit, rocked out all the way.  Flip it over to
hear Impala prove they are NOT a surf band.  This instro's more garage-
oriented, dominated by a sleazy wild sax that's livin' the high life.  Lastly,
Fortune & Maltese finish it up with their take on "Louise," punkier on the
verses than the Paul Revere original, but hitting the vocals as smooth as
silk on the chorus.  Damn these guys are good.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SWINGIN' SINGLES

       Whomp-Bomp!  Whomp-Bomp! Whomp-Bomp-Ba-Bomp!  I AM
RIGHT!  Cue Ross The Boss to get those fingers flying, then the rest of the
guys for an all out assault and the general order number one, "play it
faster and louder."  Yeah, Ross's guitar, singing it out with that tough,
proto punk/metal sound that nobody else has ever quite managed.  Yeah,
this is one of their newest songs.  In fact, it's the newest one they've
recorded in... well, a long, long time.  Think now.  When was the last time
you heard about a new Dictators' record?  No, I'm not talking about some
bootleg, or CD repackaging; I'm asking about new recordings.  Well, sure,
there was Manitoba's Wild Kingdom back towards the end of the 80s, but
that wasn't quite The Dictators (though, admittedly, it was close enough to
make me happy.)  Never mind, though, 'cuz now, thanks to the fine folks
at Norton Records, we've got a new 45 out of these gentlemen.  The deal
was that it would be released in time for the band's tour of Europe and
Scandinavia this fall.  An agreement was reached and a contract was
signed - at White Castles, of course.    This thing blinkin' KICKS!  Power.
Volume.  Energy.  Dictators.  HDM, King of Men is always right.  Don't
you forget it.  This one's just as powerful as any other they ever did way
back when.  Just as fist-pumping as you've ever dreamed about.
Perfection.  Down below, it's time to soothe the savage beast.  Instead of
their other new song, "In The Presence Of A New God," they chose to do
the first-ever studio recording of a Dictators' classic, "Loyola."  Andy takes
the mic for this one, a much slower, more melodic - sweet, even - number
that's toughened just enough by Ross's lead guitar.  And there's something
especially pleasing about Andy's spoken vocal part, what with the strong
New York accent providing a kind of... link to something that seems to
have all but disappeared around NYC, a sense of home turf.  The
Dictators, perhaps more than any band around today, have a turf feeling
to them.  A home team thing.  And Andy's vocal just reminds me of that
all the more.  Damn, this one's good.
       The Slow Slushy Boys have been around for most of the 90s.  Even
so, except maybe for a trip over to a friend's house once or twice, I don't
think I'd ever heard them till vocalist Denis sent me a copy of their latest
4-songer on 3M&P.  "'Morrow Will Be Shiny" starts off as "Roadrunner"-
lite, with organ sprinkles playing somewhere between Question Mark &
the Mysterians and an amusement park.  Cool stuff that gains extra points
for the seamless segue from the organ-into-guitar solo.  Their version of
"Won't You Listen" shows a rougher side of the band.  While not as
violent as The Outsiders' original, it still retains that menacing edge... the
threat of savagery.  On the other side, "Hey! Angelina!" is engaging mid-
tempo garage meets Mersey pop with the Farfisa prettifying it all.  It's got
a basic backbeat and scores as a real pleasure. "Can The Poseur Do The
Whelk?" is the last of the four, starting off reminding me of "Crazy Date,"
and turning out to be a slow-type garage swagger instro.  Repeated plays
here at HQ for this one.
       It's been awhile since I picked up a Billy Childish release.  They just
started to all sound alike to me.  And seeing as the guy was putting out
records as often as other people put out the garbage, it wasn't even an
event any longer.  Actually, that's something that probably deserves a
whole article, isn't it?  Jim Testa's secondary 'zine, Glut, is well named.
And the result of that overabundant harvest is that my taste buds have
gone numb.  This is what happens when you eat too many brownies or
chewy cookies or whatever.  After a while, you're just sucking the things
down 'cuz they're there.  And then you move on to the stage where you
just don't bother at all.  The nice thing is, that self-imposed denial means
that when you come back, the taste is also there for you again, waiting to
be enjoyed.  Well, at least it is if you've gotten a good batch. Thee
Headcoats' latest, "Thief"/"Automatic Love" (360 Twist) happens to be
from a good batch.  Upside, there's a fiendishly fantastic Diddley-shuffle
warbling it's way through your skull, aided and abetted by some truly fine
mouth organ.  Vocals, of course, are everything a Childish fan expects.
Underneath is yet more Diddley-ing (Diddlyng?), but with an easier gait,
more carefree.  There's a comfortable smile and an easy, time-tested
relationship.  The verses are something I'll be singing along with for quite
some time; they've got that happy feel.  This is the kind of thing I fell in
love with The Milkshakes for - Pretties' R&B with a Kinks' taste for
melody, all done in Thee Headcoat Homestead.
       One of the best surprises of Treble Fest was The Hectics, two gals
and a guy from right there in Denver.  Unfortunately, I didn't make it back
to the merch table in time to grab one of the few copies of their 4-songer,
Come Booze Down With (360 Twist), that was actually ready in time for
the fest (only 50 were available), but that situation has since been
remedied. This trio plays it wild, fast, and fun in a sort of blurred
Supercharger way.   While I dug the whole thing, I'd pick "Merry Go
Round" and "Everything I Need" as the standout cuts.  The former shows
them to be darker, more pure punk than just about anything else I can
think of on this primarily garage label.  Yes, it could be said that the
Hectics are a garage group, but only in the loose, 90s sense.  And all but
one other band I can think of on 360 Twist has some closer sort of tie to the
stricter definition of the genre - the one that asks at least some tenuous
link to the Sound of '66.  Anyway, on "Merry Go Round" it's the vocals
that turn me on most, especially the part where most of the rest of the
pack drops out and the vocal's almost alone.  This gives it the chance to
shine through and convey a real sense of urgency and need that gets
thrown a bit to the back during the rest of the song.  "Everything I need"
pounces hard with a melody that reminds me a bit of a less sugary
Fastbacks.  A strong debut.
       I'm not sure exactly why I expected The Action Suits "4 Track
Mind" (Fluffer) single to be a garage punk thing.  No, I take that back; I do
know.  It's pretty simple, really.  Peter Bagge has done some incredibly
cool record jackets and comics that, to me (and many others in the garage
punk community), define a certain part of the garage aesthetic.  So seeing
his drawing on the cover, plus his involvement in the band, I just jumped
to conclusions.  Well, by now you've figured out this one's no garage
punker.  (You genius, you.)  So, what is it?  Well, the term power pop is
too played out for me to use, so I'll try and put it in context, instead.  This
reminds me, musically, a bit of The Silly Pillows with a touch of the
sadder part of Replacements' pop, and maybe Alex Chilton.  The
Hammond-organ flourishes add a cool touch that at times also puts me in
mind of some of The Original Sins' bittersweet pop gems.
       I'm going to admit it now:  except for possibly hearing a tape at
someone's house, I don't recall ever hearing Thee Flypped Whigs before.
So shoot me.  Well, actually, don't.  If you read Feline Frenzy #9, you got
the hint that this is a band that may have been through more lineup
changes than The Lyres.  Well, be that as it may, they've got a new EP out
on Charmkin.  Unlike many on today's garage scene, this is a group that's
well-versed in the genre's history; it shows in their sound.  Now, there'll
always be naysayers that'll put down a group that stays so close to the
original formula.  But, uh... remember when Coke tried to switch to a new,
more modern thing?  Yeah, that's right; it sucked.  And so do a goodly
number of bands getting called garage today.  "Don't Go Away Mad (Just
Go Away)" (hmm, that sounds like a Blondie lyric) is pure 60s garage
punkin', straight at the source, much like in the daze of the mid 80s scene
when guitar-guy Rich probably flipped his wig over these wild and
woolly sounds in the first place.  Some fantastic guitar raging on this one.
One thing - for full effect, you're gonna want to blast this all over the
house.  On "1 + 1 <> 2" the guitar rings a bit more, kind of circling and
spiraling its way through, helped out by those cold Vox organ towns.  A
slower tempo, here, but, as a result, all the more effective during the rave-
up chaos that ensues.  Feline Frenzy editrix, Glynis Ward, tells me that the
band has undergone yet another lineup change and that, though she and
Rich live in DC, their new rhythm section (Bad Trip editor Bruce Ciero on
bass and ex-Woggle Kurt Wood sittin' on the stool) lives along the
Atlanta-Athens, GA axis, so they'll be an Atlanta-based band.
       I saw The Time Beings once, back in the days of The Strip.  Or
maybe it was in its second life, as Flannery's.  Evidently, they've released a
CD, but all I've gotten to hear so far is their new 45, "Visions"/"Louie Go
Home" (Stanton Park).  Up top, we find the guys have moved away from
the pure garage sound of that visit to NYC some years back (I still listen to
the demo tape I picked up that night, by the way), settling in for a '67-'68,
dark, bewitching psych sound.  Later on, they hit some powerful chords,
but  then descend back into their psychedelic cloudburst.  Personally, I
like their version of the Paul Revere number on the flip better.  Firstly, it
serves to remind me that The Raiders' career didn't end with "Just Like
Me," as it pulls taut the line linking garage and psychedelia, with the riff's
psychedelic song made nasty by the sheer force of will imparted both by
the Raiders and The Time Beings on this strong cover version.
       It took me awhile to latch on to the Brian Jonestown Massacre, but
with their recent disc and their new "Never Ever" 45 (Stanton Park) -
especially this 45, I'm fast becoming a fan.  This one's real slow melodic
folk-psych with a pretty melody picked out by the guitar, strongly
recalling some favored circa '67 Stones' sounds.  Somehow I picture this
playing in some 60s video, as the band, all dressed in their stage outfits,
goes picking through the wild flowers growing in some big city's park.
The crescendo builds ever so slowly throughout the song; you aren't even
positive it's happened till you tune out for a bit (it's just under seven
minutes long) and then come back.  When a plane passed overhead, I
thought it was just part of the song.  Finally, without any real explosive
climax, things wind down.  Not explosive, maybe, but extremely
satisfying.  The flip is much the same, but with a more Indian sound.
       One of the great things about doing a fanzine is getting promo-only
stuff from time to time.  That's how I got this little 7" teaser by Fortune &
Maltese and the Phabulous Pallbearers.  Just out as I pen these words is
their latest long-player for the Hillsdale label.  Meanwhile, though, I've
been shakin' all over to the swingin' sounds of "She's A Blowout," with its
falsetto backing vox and teen dance-like surf vocal stylings.  This one's
meant as a DJ-only promo item, so there's also some other fantastic
material.  Leading it off is 20 second open-ended interview with Freddie &
Mike, where they leave space for the DJ to insert his/her name, as well as
that of their station.  Also, "the boys who make all the noise" are obviously
aware of a radio station's duty to play Public Service Announcements (or,
as those of us who've been in "the biz" call 'em, PSAs).  Here, they show
their support for education, doing a perfect "Stay In School" bit, like any
civic-minded group should.  Lastly, they switch their alliance from Pepsi
(look on an earlier 45 by the boys) over to Coke.  Fun, fun, fun.
       I wasn't planning on picking up The Queers' Bubblegum Dreams
EP (Lookout).  I'd been out seeing The Smugglers and various other
groups for four nights in a row (see the live section - ed.), we were in New
Haven, and I'd just spent money on shirts, as well as the band's latest disc
(see the CD reviews - ed.)  Now, the Tune Inn has this long bar running
almost the complete length of the room the stage is in.  Thing is, they don't
serve alcohol.  So, instead, the bands get to set up their merchandise in this
space.  So, even with four bands, there was plenty of space.  And it just so
happened that The Queers stuff was set up right next to Cub's.  Well,
Ronnie Barnett of The Muffs was hanging out in the Cub section with his
lovely wife, Ms. Lisa Marr, and he pointed to this EP and told me I had to
get it - The Queers were doing a Muffs' cover.  Besides that, he said, the
whole thing was just incredible.  Well, as it happens, I know Ronnie has a
damn good idea what I'm into.  So I took his advice.  The only track on
this four-songer that's shared by the disc is "Punk Rock Girls" which
sounds fantastic on the disc, but even better here, where it helps set the
tone of the record.  The subject matter here is something few will argue
with.  Such a damn sweet melody, too.  And the slow part calls up all
those Beach Boys comparisons all over again.  Next up is "Never Ever
Ever," a number co-written by ex-Queers/DMZ guitarist, JJ Rassler.  This
one's a mite slower, but just as pretty, with some fantastic backing vocals
by JJ.  Somehow the chorus reminds me, both in subject and sound of a
Waldos' song.  However, where the Waldos sing, "Never get away from
you / Oh never never," The Queers take the high road, "I'll never let you
go / Oh never ever."  Flip it over, then, for the covers side, with the guys
doing yet another Brian Wilson favorite, "Little Honda."  Now, while some
folks want to write the Queers off as a Ramones' clone band, I'll say this:
The Ramones could never do a Beach Boys' track as well as The Queers;
these guys just have a brighter, sunnier sound to them.  Lastly, there's that
Muffs' cover, "End It All," which reminds us even more of both the Muffs
and the Queers' penchant for 60s pop.  You need this.
       About a year or so back, I received a question from a New Zealand
'zine, asking what style of music I'd l ike to hear more of.  Well, the answer
to that is still easy:  Beat music.  Let's face it, we're living in a time when
Beat fans are starved for good new sounds.  Sure, you can check out The
Kaisers and you'll be dancing up a storm all night; you can groove to The
Minstrels, who have a better handle on the popcraft involved (and can
write a better ballad than any other group I know); or you can dip back
into your record collection for the old stuff.  Well, OK, a couple years back,
The Spectors were tearing up any town that got in their way, and The
Kravin' A's did some swingin' stuff (not to mention The Milkshakes, but
that was the early-mid 80s), but that's long gone.  And, honestly, there are
a couple other groups out there, but I don't have anything by them.  That's
why I was so hyped to get The King Normals Big Beat In Panicsville
(Hillsdale).    Up top, they give us "Meanest Girl In Town," a frenzied
Rhythm'n'Beat raver, nice'n'dirty with a wild Boom-Chick beat that only
gets more insane when they hit the break.  Flip it over and check out "If
You Think I Don't Need You," a bit slower than up top, but still reelin' and
rockin'.  Here's that link between the 50s & 60s that The Milkshakes
reminded us of back in '83 or so.  These guys trash it up a bit, but
somehow give it a more alive feeling.  "Dirty, Dirty Feeling" gives us more
of the same, but reminding me more of that first Kinks el pee all too many
of you out there have likely forgotten.  I'd love to see these guys go up
against The Kaisers.  I'd bet my money on 'em, too, 'cuz these boys rip it
up but good.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
VINYL DELIGHTS

       There's a theme to the new Boss Martians' LP, The Jetaway Sounds
Of... (Hillsdale).  I'm gonna give you a clue:  some of the titles are "Boeing,
Boeing, Gone!", "Stewardess, More Peanuts Please," "2 On The Wing," etc.
If you haven't gotten it yet, you're a bigger putz than your dear old dad
told you you were the day you turned down that ace job in the mail room
that his college buddy pulled strings to get for you.  (Whew... whatta
mouthful!)  Yeah, this here is "Jet Transportation Rock."  For those of you
who're already lucky enough to be familiar with the Boss Martians, they're
into 60s surf/pop-inspired sounds.  As with many groups into that scene
today, though, they have their own angle on it.  Their particular bent
tends to be a sort of "easy-listening" thing.  That is to say that they'll
probably never be described as a bunch of lunatics.  That's OK, tho', 'cuz
their sound is sort of in line with another of today's popular trends - the
lounge thing.  Are they lounge-surf, then?  Well, not exactly... but we're
getting warmer.  This stuff's smooth, not jagged and wild.  When I listen
to The Boss Martians, I don't think of some wild-at-heart surfer bustin' a
20-foot wave crashing into Oahu.  Instead, I think of the echos of a good
day filled with some worthy runs with a bunch of pals in the sun.  I
picture the day's events being recollected over a beer, hot dogs, and
marshmallows by the fire on the beach.  And, maybe on Friday, something
like "Hangar Party Stomp," a fine, fine way to get this album moving, with
some nice sax punctuation and some breezy Farfisa organ.  Honestly, the
latter plays an extremely important supporting role throughout the whole
flight, sort of the flight attendant to the guitar's piloting role.
"Irving, The
Swingin' Air Traffic Controller" is another of my fave titles, as much for
the name as for the sounds, as I picture ol' Irv scanning the skies on a
cloudy day.  "What'd I Fly" sounded DAMN! familiar to me and I was
wondering why words kept jumping into my mind the whole way
through till I actually made a conscious effort to sing them.  Of course, I
didn't check the name of the danged thing till after I'd already figured it
out.  Sure 'nuff, this is an instro, semi-surf (sorry, Jet-Transportation) take
on the classic "What'd I Say" that works like a charm.  Nice job, gents.  One
thing I'm never gonna understand is why these boys don't do more vocal
numbers.  The two on here are among the disc's strongest grooves.  Both
"My Favorite Planemaker" and "Story of the DASH-80" appear to be about
Boeing (one of the biggest employers in the band's homeland of the Pacific
Northwest, I believe) and are real nice surf-vocal/pop numbers.  The
former is a real smile-stomper that'll get all the teens-at-heart (though,
unfortunately, probably not nearly enough of the teens-in-reality) out on
the floor.  This one's definitely worth having, gang.
       Out Of Our Depth (Perfect Pop/Little Teddy) starts off with
Jonathan quacking... till he stops it and they decide to make some changes,
one of which is substituting guitar for those quacks.  Of course, after
you've heard the blinkin' things, they're in your mind forever.  And it
makes it all the more endearing.  Anyway, while the other disc is a comp
of older material, these are brand-spankin' new Pillow-tunes.  (Yeah, that's
right, forget pillow-talk, this is much better.)  I think what's most
enjoyable about the Silly Pillows is how they throw just about everything
in their fridge into the pot and see what comes out.  Guess they know how
to stir, 'cuz they come up with some pretty delightful concoctions.
Probably my favorite is "Music In My Mind" as it showcases just about
everything I like about the group, some up-tempo melody, Sam letting go
on guitar at times, some nice bells jingling, and voices raised up joyfully.
Love the ending... not quite a capella, but just about.  Nicely done.  Weird
thing is, I can still listen to Jonathan's voice and hear him singing the new
wave/punk "Frontal Lobotomy" from that Degrads single he and Sam did
way back in 1982, even though the SPs are so far from that sound.  Oh
yeah, one more song that deserves mention, "Myself Included," which
reminds me of one of those laid-back cool Alex Chilton numbers of recent
years.
       If you've already been convinced by the above selection, you might
want to see what it was they were doing all those years on the home
recording/tape trading scene.  Well, lucky for you then, that Little Teddy
has seen fit to release Pillow Image Ltd., a comp of material recorded from
'86 - '92.  Not all will be able to get past the home recording quality and
the Casio-style keyboard and drum sounds, but those who do will be
rewarded with inventive experiments and some powerful personal
pop/psych melodies.
       Around 5-6 years ago, I showed up at The Strip one night to find a
band on the bill that was, at the time, completely unknown to me.  This
wasn't altogether unusual, seeing as Endsville Entertainment would often
bring us some pretty swingin' sounds that we'd not yet experienced (some
of whom would go on to become NYC favorites.)  This was different,
though, because the band was unlike most of the other acts to play the
venue.  That is to say, they weren't a garage, R'n'B, Mod, or even
rockabilly act.  Nope, The Deviators were much more into the sounds of
'77 punk, kinda like the Clash & Stiff Little Fingers, but they - or, perhaps
more accurately (and I'm speculating here), singer/guitarist Tom
Rosenthal - also had a penchant for Buddy Holly.  Well, by about '92-'93,
The Deviators had broken up and Tom and his wife, Georgia, had moved
out to Minneapolis-St. Paul, where they formed a new group, called
Speedway.  The demo tape Tom sent me at the time showed a more r'billy
oriented act, although I doubt a purist would've given them a second
glance.  It was clear, though, that Tom was checking his roots, but
bringing his own punk adolescence into the picture.  I was lucky enough
to see them up in Port Chester, NY one night with The Devil Dogs
(probably in mid-'94), but couldn't afford to make it down to Sleazefest #2
in 1995 to witness their act once again.  However, in 1995, they got a
chance to record a 10-incher for Dionysus, which is why you're reading
this long-winded trip down memory lane right now.
       I'm gonna be straight with you... When I first listened to He Drives
Me Wild (Dionysus), I thought it was pretty decent, but I was in no rush to
throw it on repeatedly.  Yesterday, though, with the TS deadline looming
large (for the 39th time t his fall), I threw it on the turntable.  Suddenly,
everything came into focus.  While I'll admit that not every song moves
me, none of them make me want to get off the couch and move the tone
arm, either.  For that matter, if I had it on CD, I probably wouldn't bother
skipping over them, either.  It starts off with a number called "Slip Away,"
with a furied kick at the start giving way to a rootsy blues/r'billy style that
reminds me of a cross between the early-mid 80s sounds of Los Lobos &
The Blasters.  "Hmmm," I thought, "This is definitely not going to appeal
much to Deviators' fans."  Even the tape I'd gotten a couple years ago
would've said more to them.  But I liked the damn thing.  Lots, in fact.
Their take on The Devil Dogs' "354," with Georgia taking the main lead
vocal, however, failed to impress me.  In fact, it's only when Tom takes
over the mic for certain parts of the song that I really feel the song's
energy.  It's not that I don't like Georgia's voice (she sounds pretty good
on Side 2's leadoff, "Never Understand," a swingin' R'n'B shaded r'billy
number), it's just that the interpretation doesn't blow me away nearly as
much as the original.  But when they cut back in with "Cat-Fly-Dog,"
they've won me over again.  Closing out side 1 is "Chain Link," obviously
a tribute to Mr. Wray, low and menacing, though it flies at supersonic
speeds.  You want proof Tom can handle a guitar, check him out here.
One of my top picks on the record.  The second number on side two,
"Georgia," is a ballad, but instro-style.  Damn nice cheek-to-cheek material
that proves that love is beyond words.  "Misfit" is more of a kick up your
heels thing, heading straight back to rock'n'roll central, but it's "Brooklyn
Love Story," the final word, that says the most on this side.  This is easily
the best of Georgia's three lead vocal tracks.  It reminds me most of Debbie
Harry on one of those fantastic young-and-in-true-love numbers.  I
recently asked an informed source what was up with the band and, sadly,
learned that Speedway had split up.
       Ladies and Germs, The No-Talents!!!   For those of you who've been
saying the French can't rock, these gals'n'guys are here to shove that
baloney right up the old back entrance.   Fast and frenzied, lo-fidelity
rock'n'roll with tons of energy, that's them.  Lovely, touching lyrics, too -
"Whipped cream is what I need, whipped cream is in my dreams (...)
Whipped cream on my body, whipped cream makes me horny."  Poetic,
isn't it?  Well, OK, maybe you don't need to play it in front of your mom.
After all, mine got mad when she read an interview with Paula Pierce of
The Pandoras about ten years ago (I'd left a magazine in the bathroom)
where Paula said that the band had gotten friendlier.  Instead of saying,
"Fuck you," Paula stated happily, they now said, "Fuck us!"  Nope, Mom
did NOT appreciate that.  Anyhow, The No-Talents are punk, it's true, but
with some nice garage-chording peeking through at times.  I'd've loved to
see them open for The Rip-Offs.
       Part of me is pissed that I interviewed Fortune & Maltese a couple
years back.  Of course, doing so meant I caught 'em early on, leading the
pack and all that.  On the other hand, they've now got three albums out
(including the "bootleg" we reviewed last ish), which means I'd've had
much, much more to interrogate them about.  Oh, well... I can always do a
follow-up.  The third of these is one of the latest releases from  one of my
fave labels, Hillsdale, entitled Konquer Kampus.  I can't say enough good
things about this album or this band.  Hell, I can't think of any BAD things
to say about 'em at all.  On the back of this one, they claim it's "a dance
fan's dream album" and the grooves sure bear that out.  From the kick-off
blast of "If Push Comes To Shove" right through the final lap on their
"High Horse," Fortune & Maltese offer up some of the swingin'est sounds
the whole world 'round.  This is pure 60s teen stompin' with both snarl
and chime, depending on the situation.  Not only do they write and sing
some incredible songs, but they've got a crackerjack backing group in The
Phabulous Pallbearers.  Tons of material to love here, including: "(Let's All
Go To The) Science Fair," a sped-up rip on a favored Beach Boys' track;
"Study Break," an instrumental interlude that does that intermission thing
better than anything I've heard on a record... ever;  "Tappa Kegga USA" is
straight up frat fun that jumps and shouts, but with some killer guitar
raging in the break; "Tally Ho" reminds me most of what Insomniacs'
drummer Mike Sin used to call the "Blair Theme," an organ bit I
overplayed on my Vox Continental in the late 80s/early 90s, except these
guys managed to turn it into something not only listenable, but truly
fantastic; "Cuz I Want You, Yeah I Need You" has more garage-punk
leanings, aided by the able accompaniment and clear guitar sound of
those Phabulous Pallbearers and, yes, those sweet harmony vocals these
guys do better than any other group on today's scene.   Also included is
"(She's A) Blow Out," reviewed in singles section.  That alone is worth the
price of admission.  Should you buy this?  Do you really have to ask?
There are few bands out there worth your time and money the way these
guys are.  Buy it, play it, and play it again.  And again.  Thank me later.
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TOMORROW'S YESTERDAY'S TODAY

       For most of the time that I've been writing for Teen Scene, my focus
has been on the many really incredible new bands and recordings from
various points around the world. Be it Australia, Finland, Japan or
Brooklyn, if you know where to look, there's always some cool Rock &
Roll being played somewhere. For this column I've decided to change it
around a bit and write about a few of my favorite reissues from the last
half year or so. One look through Midnight  or Get Hip's catalogue, or for
that matter, a trip to Tower Records, and it's just amazing how much stuff
there is out there. Sometimes I feel like a little kid in a candy store.
For the
purposes of this column I've decided to stick with multiple artist
compilations but at this point it's a pretty safe bet that just about any
major (or minor for that matter) artist from the last 40 years probably has
at least one greatest hits compilation available somewhere.
       Having turned 45 years old this year, I'm one of the few mid-60s
garage fanatics I know who's actually lived through that era. Every so
often I'll hear someone remark about how great radio must have been
back then and how cool everything was with some swingin' fuzz
drenched combo blasting forth from every garage. Now, maybe it's just
'cause I lived in New York City, which was always more of a soul town,
but the sad truth is that almost all of the bands that we take for granted
today were just about totally unknown outside of their home town.
Although I was always really into the whatever garage bands I could hear
on the radio such as The Standells and The Shadows of Knight, I had no
idea that there were all these incredible groups out there. When I was
about 16 or so I remember hearing "Open Up Your Door" by Richard and
The Young Lions on an 'underground' FM radio show and thinking that it
was one of the most gloriously savage sounds to ever grace these young
and impressionable ears. I searched and searched but I could never find
the record and, in fact, I never heard it again until the "What A Way To
Die" comp came out years later. It still sometimes boggles my mind to
think of all the amazing Pebbles, Nuggets, Back From The Graves, etc.
comps to come down the pike over the last 10 years or so. Even more
mind-boggling is the fact that, after all these comps have come out, there's
still so much really top notch 60s garage music that has yet to see the light
of day, which brings me to one of my favorite discs of this year.  To garage
music fans, the release of another Back From The Grave compilation is
always cause for celebration. It's been around 5 years since the last one but
now that  Crypt Records has finally released Vol. 8, it turns out to be very
well worth the wait.. This 2-LP/1 disc set features 36 mind-blowin' tracks
(32 on the disc) that are all so f***in' incredible that I just don't know
where to start. Some personal favorites include the manic "Can't Tame
Me" by The Benders, The Painted Ship's sinister "Little White Lies"  and
"Look In Your Mirror" by The Merlynn Tree, a song I can hear a band like
The Swingin' Neckbreakers doing justice to. Actually, as you'd expect
from Crypt, this is one total swingin' blast from beginning to end.
       Mondo Frat Dance Bash A Go Go  (Arf Arf) is another big favorite
at here in Platterpussland.   The title of this fabulous silver slab really
says
it all. Here are 31 garagey frat-rock tracks, all recorded in the mid-60's that
sound as if they could be the soundtrack for a hipper "Animal House",
with not a dud to be found anywhere in the bunch. Although I really love
'em all, some personal favorites include the leadoff track by Prince & The
Paupers, the Farfisa-fueled instro "Exit", "Humpty Dumpty Was Making
Out" by The Malibus, Gregory Dee & The Avanties manic take on Eddie
Cochran's "Nervous Breakdown", the utterly moronic (and I mean that in
only the most complimentary of ways, "Jelly Belly" by The Druids and
"Linda" by The Starfires. If this isn't the wildest lampshade-wearin', butt-
shakin' drunken party disc ever, then I just don't know what is.
       From the same time zone but the opposite side of  the Atlantic
ocean comes Maximum R&B (Reverberation). The cover bills this as "the
definitive compilation of wild British harmonica wailing R&B and Beat"
and you won't hear any arguments from me. I'm pretty sure that a few of
the songs on here such as "Bo Street Runner" by The Bo Street Runners
and The Primitives' "You Said" have been on other comps but  there are a
good number that I never had before and the sound quality is uniformly
excellent. In fact it's hard to believe that these were made from records
and not the original master tapes. As I write this I'm listening to The
Chasers' version of Dee Clark's "Hey Little Girl' and, as much as I dig the
original, it just doesn't compare with this totally savage remake. 27 songs
and they're all aces. If you're into bands like The Pretty Things, early
Stones and Kinks or Downliners Sect, you definitely ought to grab
yourself a copy of this.
       Hot off the press and in a similar vein as "Maximum R&B" is
English Freakbeat Vol. 6  (AIP). Basically, this is an updated version of
Pebbles 6 with somewhat better sound and a handful of cool bonus tracks.
Having just about worn out my copy of that album over the years, many
of these tracks such as "Get Yourself Home" and "Anytime At All" by The
Fairies, The Cheynes' take on the Isley Bros./(U.S.) Outsiders
"Respectable" , the Bo-Diddleyfied "Bowie Man" by The Wild Ones and
Rhythm & Blues Inc's frantic  version of  "Honey Don't" are all old
favorites at this point but the seven extras bonus tracks on here make this
an even more essential purchase. A few of 'em such as "Jump Back" by
Chicago Line and "To Catch That Man" by David John & The Mood are as
tough as anything I've ever heard and I can already picture in my mind
Pat Lozito hot-footin' it to Nix-Nomads' "She'll Be Sweeter Than You".
Twenty-two tracks and nary a moment to catch your breath - what more
can anybody ask for!
       Fans of early 60s girl groups are in for a treat with the latest series
from Mercury Chronicles.  In addition to releasing separate anthologies on
Leslie Gore, The Angels and The Shangri-Las, they have also just come out
with  this really nifty 2-disc set called Growin'  Up Too Fast.   In addition
to a handful of  mega hits like "My Boyfriend's Back" by The Angels,
Dusty Springfield's "I Only Want To Be With You", "Navy Blue" by Diane
Renay and "Leader of The Pack" by The Shangri-Las there are a number
of primo obscurities in this 50-song package. "Don't Ever Leave Me" by,
believe it or not, Connie Francis has got to be one of the best girlie pop
songs ever made as is "Nightmare" by The Whyte Boots.  Other standouts
include the bouncy "The Boy Next Door" by The Secrets,  "Summertime
USA" by The Pixies Three which steals more than just a little from Jan &
Dean's "New Girl In School",  The Sham-ettes' "You're Welcome Back"
and "I Wish I Knew What Dress To Wear" by Ginny Arnell, which has got
to be the absolute ultimate in campy schlock. Admittedly much of this
sounds quite dated 30-plus years later but there's still a vitality and charm
in this music that's hard to deny or resist.
       I had read about Rhino's  4-disc Cowabunga  - The Surf Box about a
month or so before it actually came out and I was approaching it with
some definitely mixed feelings. Having seen a number of surf bands over
the last few years I've realized that while I do like instrumental surf music,
hearing nothing but that for 45 minutes at a time can get a bit
monotonous. But now that the 40-plus dollars that I spent are just a distant
memory, I'm really glad I've got it. As you'd expect, all of the 'standards'
are here - "Wipe Out", "Let's Go Trippin'", "Pipeline", "Surfin' USA" (one
of a handful of vocal tracks),  "Penetration" and "Surfin' Bird" are all
present and accounted for, many  of 'em sounding better than ever.
Compiled by surf-meister John Blair, this box has just about every cool
surf track you can think of. They even have one disc devoted to new surf
bands. The only 2 tracks that I wish they would have included but didn't
are "Squad Car" by Eddie & The Showmen and "Waikiki" by The
Dragsters though, with 80-plus cuts to choose from, I really can't
complain. So, while I can't imagine ever wanting to play the whole thing
in one sitting (Uh... I do. -- ed.), this is gonna come in mighty handy in
years to come when I'm making party tapes.
       Just like what happened with garage music in the late-70s/early
80s, I've been noticing more and more reissues, legitimate and otherwise,
of classic 70s Punk. Starting with Rhino's groundbreaking "D.I.Y." series a
few years ago and continuing with others such as "Killed By Death" and
"Back To Front", a lot of really cool music, some of it hopelessly obscure
and therefore way too expensive, is now pretty readily available. One of
the better comps to come along this past year is Punk Lost & Found on
Shanachie Records (13 Laight St., 6th fl.,  NYC NY 10013). What sets this
collection  apart is that instead of going for total obscurity, they've thrown
in a bunch of cool early tracks by people who made it big afterwards such
as 2 early cuts by Gen-X: "New Order" and a  totally smokin' version of
"Shakin' All Over", "Keys To Your Heart" by The 101'ers with a young
Joe Strummer and, one of my favorites on this whole shebang, "Television
Screen" by The Radiators From Space which featured future Pogue, Phil
Chevron . Other faves include The Sniveling Shits' "Terminal Stupid"
(definitely one to play on my walkman while traveling to work), "Saints &
Sinners" by Johnny & The Self Abusers, "Waiting For The Man" (yup, the
old V.U. 'hit') given a shot of adrenaline by Eater  and "I'm In Love With
The Girl On The Manchester Virgin Megastore Checkout Desk" by The
Freshies which is in more of a power pop vein and is definitely a whole lot
better than its novelty type title would lead you to believe. If I were a DJ
I'd definitely program that right in between Jonathan Richman's "New
Teller" and "Customer" by The Replacements. Robyn Hitchcock/Soft
Boys fans will also definitely want to check out their live version of "(I
Want To Be An) Anglepoise Lamp". Actually, with only one possible
exception (the new-wavey "Where's Captain Kirk" by Spizzenergi) this is
all primo, A-1 material from start to finish and I can only hope that the
folks at Shanachie decide to do a sequel before too long.
    Well, that's about it for this go round. As always, there was a ton of
stuff I wanted to get to but didn't have the room for such as the latest in
the fabulous "Diggin' For Gold" series, "Ottawa Rocks", "Banzai
Freakbeat", which is devoted to some of the best Japanese mid-60s garage
band music and a whole slew of 50s R&B and Rockabilly comps. If anyone
wants some more info or just wants to drop me a line, I can be reached at
[email protected] or care of Teen Scene. Ciao babies.  --- JS
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
MORE MUSIC FOR YOUR LISTENING PLEASURE

       The whole press release for Thorazine's Crazy Uncle Paul's Dead
Squirrel Wedding (Hell Yeah) focused on the band's legal entanglement
with a certain pharmaceutical company (for obvious reasons.)  Well, I
think it did - I got sick of reading about it after a while.  I wanted to hear
more about their music.  For that, though, all I had to do was throw the
disc in, anyway, so... I did.  Well, unsurprisingly, it wasn't really my
thing.
It's darker, harsher than what I like.  Punk without much thought to
melody.  Not bad, really, just not something I felt like listening to.  Lots of
aggression and energy with a female vocalist sporting a strong voice.  The
first song, actually, reminded me of  a cross between some early Ramones'
song and  DaWillys' "Bad Personality."  But it was stripped somehow.  The
more I listen to this, the more I realize that some people I know will
probably love it - most likely those who are into stuff like The
Lunachicks... I've known Dino Sorbello for a long, long time.  In all that
time, though, I've never been a big fan of his favorite brand of music -
psychedelic as he can get.  Even the group I remember him from at the
start, The Mad Violets, went a bit too far into the psych range for my
tastes, but some of their songs ("Psilocybe," for example) were classics in
my mind.  And, Dino was also a member of the NYC "garage scene super-
group," The Lords of the New Surf.  After that was done, Dino started up
the Blacklight Chameleons, which is about when I believe his music got
too far into psych territory for my personal tastes.  For the last bunch of
years, he's had a group called Laughing Sky, who've gone through so
many lineup changes I'm not sure even Dino could document them.
Finally, it seems, he's got a lineup to record with, and they've released
Free Inside (Voxx).  They start things up just on the psychedelic side of the
Psych/Garage border, with a number titled "Here We Come," which just
happens to be a cover of Randy Alvey & the Green Fuz' theme song, with
'Laughing Sky' substituted for 'Green Fuz.'   This one's not bad.  Neither is
the cover of "Lucifer Sam," one of the few psychedelic numbers that I
enjoy hearing just about every time.  They also do a fine version of The
Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows."  Maybe I enjoy these because the
songs themselves are all well known to me.  However, I can't get past
feeling that Dino's material is just too far gone into psychedelia to really
appeal to me.  Which is NOT to say that it's something I'll never listen to
again; I do occasionally feel a need for some good psych (like when my
mind just needs to roam free and get away from all the rest of the crap
going on in the world.)  I'll probably throw this on at those times.  Most
garage types probably won't want much to do with this, but psych heads
will probably go pretty nuts for it... The Brian Jonestown Massacre are one
of those groups whose name I've seen around for a long time.  And, I
think, I've heard something by them before.  But I don't remember much
liking them.  On Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request they start with
"All Around You (intro)" which surprises me.  I mean, musically-speaking,
it's kinda cool.  But the surprise is what it reminds me of.  I was expecting
some Stones-ish material, but instead it's reminding me of  mid-late period
Beatles, complete with spoken background exhortations  found on one or
two Fab numbers.  Around the third track, they get to one that reminds
me of the Stones, "Donovan's Brain."  But it's the Stones in their lightest,
most melodic psychedelic phase (but still with just the faintest glimmer of
danger/hurt that the Stones could add.)  I get the feeling I'm gonna be
throwing this one on tapes now and again.  "In India You" goes exactly
where you'd expect, straight into those sitar sounds that you'd expect.  It's
got the melody to go with it, too.  And it works.  An urgent acoustic
declaration of love (lust?) is "Miss June '75," which goes on for over seven
minutes (I'd say somebody really likes said gal.)  Like Laughing Sky, these
guys dwell in psychedelic territory.  But the BJM seem to prefer the
gentler, more hospitable climes pioneered by The Beatles and The Stones
around 1967.  A nice change of pace...  I, Sharko's self-titled disc (Bomp) is
waaay too relaxed for me.  Sometimes I enjoy music that just settles back
and lets me relax, but I have a hard time picturing myself putting this on
for even that purpose. Usually, when I put on music, it's because I really
want to hear it; this I can't see myself wanting to hear.  It's not
abrasive, or
even offensive to my ears in any way - it just doesn't make me want to
listen actively.  Maybe if you're into more ambient stuff this might be for
you... I'm listening to this Marshmallow Overcoat long-player (360 Twist)
and it's hard to believe it's the same flippin' band I saw at Treble Fest.
That bunch came on hard and aggressive, while this group starts off their
disc with a ringing, folky-psych sound turned baroque via a string
accompaniment.  The disc takes on a garage element, as well (which, I'm
sure, is what many old MO fans were hoping for), with a nice take on the
Faine Jade number "It Ain't True."  They up the garage/punk quotient a
bit with "Mr. President," getting frantic and hopped-up.  As with their
performance at Treble Fest, they do a good job on The Doors' "Take It As
It Comes."  Tim Gassen's got a dark voice suited well to psych sounds, so
even things that might be more garage-y in other hands, like "Land of
Fuzz," end up on the muscled psych side of the garage.  My fave number
on this disc (and probably the fave of most straight-out garage fans) is
"Caveman," in which they get about as close to Garage Central as they've
been in a long, long time.  It's got the purist of garage attitudes (but that's
obvious from the titles) and goes from the slow declaration all the way to
rave-up wildness, with some beautiful organ sounds courtesy of Ms.
Debra Dickey.  This one's available on both vinyl and disc, but the CD
gives out an extra cut, "A Song For Steven," a kind of Indian sitar psych
thing that seems kinda sad.  I'm not sure how many copies of the vinyl are
available (mine said 3/50, but maybe that's 'cuz it was white vinyl... or
maybe a misprint?)... I've never been much into most of the New
Brunswick/Asbury Park scene groups, so I wasn't exactly too thrilled to
see Mars Needs Women's Sparking Ray Gun (Eggbert).  OK, so I admit it,
I'm not an impartial observer.  But if you hadn't figured out that much
already, then you really are, to quote a certain classic rock group, "thick as
a brick."  It's not that this disc is bad, really.  In fact, there are some
really
nice power pop touches.  Thing is, way too much of it reeks of commercial
rock radio.  Most of the songs on here are way too much like those that
made me stop tuning in to those stations in the first place.  They've got
some of that alterna-rock thing going on, which is yet another mark
against them for me.  Way too many people are going to label this as
power pop and that bugs the hell out of me.  Just as way too much music
got called punk, so has this happened to power pop.  To be fair about it,
this stuff probably deserves the label better than some of the mellower
material that gets the label.  I guess it's just one more reminder how weak
these damn label-things are.  I will say that these guys do occasionally
show glimmerings of latching onto a hook that'll get me in the door for a
peek (e.g. "Superhero", with its guitar bit at the end and "No Show", due
to a nice vocal line - not the vocal sound, but the melody line found
inside.)
       I guess it really shouldn't surprise me that Devo are involved with a
CD-ROM soundtrack.  Really, they're tailor-made for this kinda work.
Even so, I was pretty surprised when the day's mail brought Devo
Presents Music From Adventures of the Smart Patrol (Discovery).
Evidently, this is music from a CD-ROM game I've never played and
probably never will.  Now, the first thing I think we need to understand is
that all but one of the 6 Devo songs on here are between 15 and 20 years
old.  The other one is a youngster at age six.  However, most of the other
five tracks were written and/or performed by Devo members.  "Theme
>From Adventures of the Smart Patrol"  leads it off and is an eery reminder
of what Man or Astro-Man? might sound like if they were pushed back to
the golden age of New Wave.  (Hmm... wouldn't be surprised at all if the
Astro-guys got involved in CD-ROM stuff.)  Hell, there's even a distant
surf sound way in the back.   The next track, "That's What He Said,"
(another by the Smart Patrol, who seem to involve members of Devo) is
extremely in the Devo spirit, as is Brian Applegate's "34C," one that'd
probably piss off all the politically correct types out there, thanks to lyrics
like
34C's not good enough for me
I need to have at least a D (...)
Big ones, round ones, fat ones, too
Itty bitty teeny ones just won't do.
Thing is, this bugger's one of the most catchy tracks on the record, done in
that mechanical Devo-esque style that captured so many people some 15
years back.  Now, even though most of the Devo stuff's pretty ancient, I
can't help but recall them with a big smile on my face.  "Whip It,"
especially, will always remind me of roller skating at Laces in Northport,
Long Island in my early years of high school.  The DJ'd throw this one on
and we'd all go nuts around that rink.  The pinball machines in the middle
would be binging and pinging, with the lights flashing like mad, and we'd
all be flying around that damn oval, teenage hormones raging.  Ah, the
teen scene.  So, do you need this disc?  Probably not.  But if you get it,
you'll definitely end up throwing it on from time to time.  (And, if you're
into making tapes for people, you'll probably want to grab a snippet here
and there for filler.)  Yeah, it made me smile.
       I'll tell you right now that I probably couldn't listen to Karla
Pundit's Journey To The Ancient City (Dionysus) on any sort of regular
basis.  It's just too out there for that.  On the other hand, this is fantastic
exotica.  Now, for those of you who don't know who Karla is... well,
you've heard his swingin' keyboard sounds gracing many of your fave
garage records for years, under the name his mother bestowed upon him,
Lance Kaufman.  I seem to remember him being a part of Yard Trauma
(yeah, I could go downstairs and check... or send a message to some folks
who'd know for sure, but I'm the lazy sort) and I know I remember seeing
his name on an A-Bones 45 recorded out on the West Coast.  Now that all
that's under our belt, this is NOTHING like any of that.  The whole thing
is a musical journey to an ancient city, with titles like "Jungle Path/The
City," "Dance of the Virgins," "The Lagoon At Midnight," "Hall of Snakes,"
"Song of Celebration," "Procession of the Animal Priests," and "The Ruins
At Sunset."  This is another disc I'll be using for interludes on tapes.  In
fact, I'd love to throw it into a late night mix at a club after hours, when
everyone's just sort of settling in, waiting for dawn and breakfast, comfy
on the couches down in a room something like the one downstairs at
Coney Island High or in the back at the No Tell Motel in NYC.
       I didn't think I was going to like the US Bombs Garibaldi Guard
(Alive), but, hey, I've been wrong before (rarely, of course.  Stop
smirking.)  This disk is pretty damn good, tho', spending its time straight
back in '77.  I'd say they're more on the English side, kind of Sex Pistols-
like, with a nice dose of The Clash in there, too.  Much of it's on the rough
side, but they've also got some melodies (a real nice one finds its way into
the guitar solo on "Retreads"), and those stirring punk back-up vocals that
always remind me of a gang backing up their own.  Kind of inspiring in
that yob-punk fashion.
       The latest from the folks at Clamarama Records is Hanson, by 8-
Ball Shifter.  Right off, I'll tell ya that this is not Teen Scene fodder,
as it's
got a harder rock feel going on through most of it.  Still, there are one or
two interesting moments.  "Under A Killing Moon" is a haunting
instrumental sometimes dominated by a biker guitar sound.  This one's
perfect for Hallowe'en season and will probably make it onto a tape or
two of mine.  The other track I like is also an instrumental, "Haunted
Beach."  Now, personally it sounds more to me like a haunted beach
house, but we'll let that slide.  This one will probably not be making it
onto any comp tapes of mine, for one reason:  it's almost nine minutes
long.  Of course, I could just fade it in and out when I needed it, I guess.
       The Fiends also have some of that Hallowe'en thing going on, but
this time in a much more Teen Scene sort of way.  This is pure garage
freakin' with the haunt quotient being delivered courtesy of the
mysterioso organ and heavy fuzz (not to mention the fishnet-clad ghoul
posing in her coffin.)  Their self-titled disc on Dionysus features some
straight-outta-the-cave garage sounds heavily influenced by Back From
The Grave and the best of Pebbles.  This reminds me of nothing so much
as a NYC-era Fuzztones' LP (an image reinforced by the pics on the
inside).  So if that floats your garage-lovin' boat, you'll be in heaven over
this one.  Funny thing is, the track I love the most is the one least like the
rest, "Zombie The Greek," an ethnic-flavored instrumental that dances
happily all over before returning us to the nasal snot-punk of the rest of
the disc.  Another number that breaks thru the black magic for a moment
of sheer joy is their version of "Ain't It Hard," as they rave over, under,
sideways, and down with the fuzz on 11 and the organ singing along nice
and chunky. (http://mindlink.net/TheFiends/homepage.html).
       Looking at the cover of The Preachers' 45, "I Hate Switzerland,"
(Larsen) Roberta said, "Looks gothic, to me."  Be that as it may, I figured I
had to at least give a chance.  (Even techno-looking stuff gets thrown on
the stereo when it's a promo; I figure I owe the company that mailed it at
least a minute of my time for acknowledging my existence.  After that I
can proclaim myself the proud owner of a new jewel case and another
shiny coaster.)  Well, true to its cover, this thing sounded almost as gothic
as it looked.  Sure, there was a hint of The Cramps and touches of the Gun
Club, but there was a heckuva lot more Sisters of Mercy (in the "Temple of
Love").  It wasn't really bad, just not something I'm planning on throwing
on all that often.  The flip side, "Give A Love," though, is another story.
While this one still has the same sort of bent Gun Club goes Goth guitar
sound, it kicks the tempo into gear and let's the sun shine in.  Where up
top things sounded like perpetual doom, this one sounds like they're
never gonna stop havin' fun, riding with the top down, radio blasting
some classic Ramones, and the endless summer at their feet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A POX ON THEM

       ***Roberta and I chose to take NorthWest Airlines for our
TrebleFest trip (mainly 'cuz they had the cheapest flights).  And so we
learned that what you gain in dollars can be more than offset by the stress
said choice may cause.
       I looked around the WWW and found the URL for Northwest.  I
decided to send a message to their customer service types, complaining
about the treatment we'd received.  I made sure to press the button asking
for a reply.  A couple weeks later, I still haven't heard a thing.  What
follows is the letter I sent them.***

       Our story starts on Sunday July 28th.  My fiancee and I were
schedule to fly out of Newark at 6:50 AM, change at Detroit and head
from there to Colorado Springs.  She called the day before to confirm the
flights.  Everything was set.
       We were told to arrive early, so we made sure we were there at 5
AM.  Well, the only people at the NWA counter were an older couple in
front of us.  Nobody showed up until a bit after 5:30.
       Once we got up to the desk, the guy looked and said something
wasn't right.  Well, it turns out you had *cancelled* the Detroit-Colorado
Springs leg without telling us.  (Rude, considering we'd called to check on
the flight the previous afternoon.)  We were rerouted from Detroit to
Minneapolis and from there to Colorado Springs.  And, therefore, we
arrived a few hours late.
       But that was the easy part of this fiasco.
       We flew out of Colorado Springs on Sunday August 4th at 8:10 AM,
arriving in Detroit a few hours later.  Our connecting flight to Newark
(NWA flight 86) was scheduled for 1:55.  We got there, found there was a
gate change, and proceeded over.  Well, pretty soon we were told there
was some sort of delay.  We were to check back at 1:50.  Well, at 1:50, we
were told to check back at 2:40.  Now, we were *tired*.  As a result of our
8:10 AM flight and the fact that we'd been in Denver for a late night thing,
we hadn't gone to sleep.  We'd decided on this early flight so we could get
home and have a few hours in the afternoon to relax and acclimate
ourselves.  However, at 2:40, passengers on NWA 86 were informed
they'd have to go out to the NWA ticket counter for reticketing.  (Never
mind the fact that we'd never been in Detroit airport for ticketing and
didn't have a blasted clue how the hell to find our way out.  Directions are
only good if you know the reference points.)  As a result of our lack of
knowledge of the Detroit airport, we were among the last to arrive on the
line... which meant a wait of about 1.5 hours.  By the time we actually got
to the front of the line, our flight should have already landed and we
would have been just about in our door.
       This, of course, meant it was about 4 PM and we'd missed your 3:00
flight.  (Which was booked solid, anyway.)  It also meant we weren't
getting on your 4:50 or your 7:00 flights to Newark.  Booked solid.  We
were offered flights that would go into Memphis, then to Newark
(arriving about 12:30 AM, unacceptable since we wake up at 6 AM for
*work*) and Minneapolis to LaGuardia (getting in to LGA at 11:30, but
then we'd still have to get back to New Jersey, which meant we'd be just
as badly off as the other choice.)  Finally, we were told we could be put on
a plane to Providence, then a Continental flight to Newark.  Fine.
       We went down to that gate.  I checked in.  Well, this 4:50 flight soon
got into the "possible delay" column.  Then a definite delay of *at least* a
half hour before boarding.  At that point, I figured I'd better ask what time
this plane was to originally have set down in Providence.  After all, my
flight to Newark from Providence on Continental was stated to be 7:20.
Well, I was told the original landing time was 6:41. I added the minimum
30 minute wait and came up with a landing time of 7:11.  I realized that
was NOT going to be a safe margin.
       Let's notice here that it was *ME* who had to work this out... no
real help from NWA saying "oh, that flight isn't going to work, here's
another choice."  I'd like you to also keep in mind that, when we'd ask the
ticketing agent in Detroit how we were going to be compensated for these
hassles, we were told that we would not be.  As long as you guys got us
home, you didn't have to do anything.  But we'll get back to this.
       The one ray of light at NWA was the woman at the counter for this
flight to Providence.  I told her my problem and she set to work to solve it.
Finally, she found a flight for Albany leaving at 5:10, with a connecting
flight on Continental to Newark that'd get us in about 8:30 (5 hours later
than we were supposed to!)  And, as I said, we still hadn't slept.
       Let's skip to Newark.  When we had been at the ticketing counter in
Detroit, we'd (smartly) thought to ask what would happen to our luggage
if we were getting on to a Continental flight.  The agent told us that our
luggage would arrive before we did, since it would go on the NWA flight
to Newark at 4:50, if it hadn't already gone on the 3:00 one.  Fine.
       Well, we're now in Newark, landing at the Continental terminal...
we checked over there for our luggage... no dice, but we expected that,
considering what we'd been told in Detroit.  So we asked the Continental
people and then did as they suggested - we walked over to the NWA
terminal and checked there.  We looked around, saw a couple tags from
NWA Flight 86 (the flight we'd been scheduled for from Detroit), but none
of ours.
       So my fiancee asked the woman inside the baggage claim office.
She said that we needed to file a claim with Continental.  The woman was
*extremely* unhelpful and not understanding at all.  My fiancee was
*mad*.  The woman had told us that the luggage would be delivered to us.
Well, I explained that your airline had said that before.  They'd said it
would come in an hour or so and be delivered... meanwhile it took 10-12
hours!!!  (And that delayed us from the trip we had to make that night.)
       My fiancee then went outside, sat down and started crying.  All she
wanted to do was relax, sleep... we had to be up at 6:00 AM the next day
and we hadn't slept since Saturday morning.  She, especially, has to be on
her toes because she's a visiting nurse.  The only reason she'd agreed to fly
NWA this time was because it was a few dollars cheaper than the rest.
(Unless I get some real satisfaction, I can't think why I should ever bother
to go with NorthWest again just to save a few dollars.  These hassles just
aren't worth it.)
       We did end up getting lucky.  Another woman was just coming on-
shift.  She saw my fiancee crying.  She asked me what was wrong and I
explained.  She was *much* nicer.  She told me that the 7:00 flight out of
Detroit was late and maybe they'd have our bags when they arrived at
9:15.  Well, by 9:45-10:00 we had our luggage.
       We finally arrived home at 10:30 - about 6.5 hours later than we'd
expected.  My fiancee was dead tired; I was dead tired; we were both
*extremely* upset at our treatment at the hands of NWA.  Worse yet was
the understanding that you weren't going to *do* anything about that.
(Remember what we'd been told in Detroit.)

       I finished off by telling them that "I *DEMAND* satisfaction."
(Yeah, guys... time  to be scared.)  I continued by advising them that, if I
didn't get it, I'd contact the Better Business Bureau, American Express
Travelers service (who I'd booked the  trip through), and make sure my
own readers (that's you!) heard about it.
       I also tried to play good cop after that.  I said that I'd *like* to end
things on an up not by saying that Northwest came through and dealt
with us fairly.
       Well, like I said, they still haven't.  I'm resending the msg today,
two weeks later.)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
ALL THE NEWS THAT FITS

       As some of you will have noticed by now, there are a couple Radio
Birdman reissues out there.  Radios Appear was remastered by Rob
Younger and Don Bartley at EMI and includes what the group considers
to be the best of both versions of the record.  (It was released on Trafalgar
in Australia and Sire world-wide.)  Deniz says it is "approximately 6db
hotter than any previous release," and that, when he heard it, he "heard
stuff on there [he] hadn't heard since we sat in the control room for the
playbacks in '76."  The artwork, too, is updated.  (Kinda more electric,
somehow.)  The first couple thousand include a bonus disc of the original
EP plus some "mystery stuff" tacked onto the end.  (My guess is these are
all gone by now.)
       Living Eyes includes all the songs recorded at Rockfield in '78,
except one.  "There are 4 tracks that weren't on the original vinyl, but one
of them was in the box set (Didn't Tell The Man) and one was on the B
side of my solo vinyl 45 "100 Fools" on Citadel (Alien Skies). The other 2,
"If I Wanted To" and "Dark Surprise" have not been on any official release
to date. The "Dark Surprise" in the box set was a live version and totally
different." As fans know, the original versions of this record were a rough
version the band was never pleased with.  This time around, Rob & Deniz
went in and remixed it all from the original 2" 24-track masters.  This one,
too, gets a new cover photo, "not the stupid looking 'pensive' shot of
Rob's face."
       Unfortunately, a stop at a local NYC record store showed these
discs to be selling for about $28 apiece.  (OUCH!)  The Platterpuss
mentioned this on Bomp-list and Deniz responded that he was "quite
embarrassed to hear these ridiculous prices."  He recommended that
people try contacting Red Eye Records (the store, not the label) at
011.61.2.2338177 phone or 011.61.2.2235219 fax.  It's possible they can do a
direct mail-order deal.  What Deniz would really like to do, though, is get
the records released in the US at regular prices.  Evidently, they're
working hard on this.  Deniz says he's, "told that a deal is 'close to
happening' with an LA label."  Let's keep our fingers crossed that this stuff
comes out here.  'Cuz I'm not sure I can afford thirty bucks (yeah, y'gotta
figure in sales tax) for one disc.
       Here's some more from Deniz on the recording front:  "The good
news is that our live album, recorded 1/96, is great and will  be out soon:
independently of any major label.  My new solo album Le Bon Route will
be out on Citadel in Australia in 2 weeks (this was written this past
summer -- ed.). Negotiations are underway for a USA release. If it doesn't
happen I'll mail 'em out to people at a reasonable cost."  Who knows,
maybe he'll also have copies of the Number Of The Beat EP, which,
sources say, was meant to be used as something to sell on the recent
Italian tour.  Also, word from Australia has it that the group were in
fantastic form on a recent 6-city sweep up the East Coast, including covers
of The Stooges' "I Got A Right" and Blue Oyster Cult's "Dominance &
Submission."
       Now, like many Birdman fans in the US, I'd really love to see them
actually come here.  Or, to be more specific, I'd like them to play my home
stomping grounds.  I asked Deniz about this possibility and he responded,
"I'd love to bring Radio Birdman to NYC, [it's] just a matter of working
out the logistics. Perhaps on the way from Oz to Europe. We have talked
about doing this, but nothing firm yet. We want to make a new studio
album next year, so in conjunction with that a world tour is a possibility.
First we have to get our live album out and tour in January."

       In related news, Birdman bassist Warwick Gilbert is playing guitar
in an instrumental surf band called The Raouls, with Birdman guitarist
Chris Masuak on drums.  They've evidently gained a good following
around Sydney and have opened up for Dick Dale & Link Wray among
others.

       Tim Kerr is busy as usual.  Out in Seattle this Spring, he recorded
The Makers, April March and The Mono Men.  In December, Tim journeys
up to Brooklyn to mix the new Insomniacs CD.  When the Lord High
Fixers returned from Las Vegas, they went back into the studio for
Sympathy and, as I write this, should be doing some recording for In The
Red.  As to his other group, The King Sound Quartet, most of the material
should be out on In The Red, but in the meantime, Estrus just released a
45.

       Bart Mendoza of The Shambles writes that there's a comp CD of the
group's  recordings on the way from Snap in Spain.  Meanwhile, "Get Hip
and Snap are each doing slightly different Manual Scan comps later this
year."  In addition, "Spain's Rock Indiana alternative mag will have a
freebie single of us covering 'Leavin Here' ('Hey guys, we still have 15
minutes of recording time left, what do we know?...' It could've been
much worse, who needs another 'Louie Louie').  And we have tracks on
RPM's 3 Minute Revolution ( a remake of "Delve into Everything"), as
well as the tribute LPs to the Jam, Raspberries, and The Who.  Coming up
hopefully will be the final Staring at the Sun (November), Hits of the 80's (
we cover Squires "Does Stephanie Know") , a Love tribute CD, Yellow Pills
Vol 4, Bam Balam's PowerPop America Vol 5, a Japanese Detour comp
(with "Groovy Thing"), Snap's Pop Explosion (December) and eventually
a Get Hip/1+2 (Japan) comp of early singles and outtakes.

       Bad news was in the air for a bit in regards to the DM3; word had it
they were splitting up.  However, Perth correspondent Mick Seman
informs me that, due to "a good response on the tour of Europe," they will
probably just be taking a break.  "There will be one more album on
Citadel, one of those B-sides and previously unreleased tracks
compilations."  Evidently, a "Stems reunion was booked for New Year's
Eve, but [it] seems like [it's] being delayed yet again.  Maybe they are
waiting for this live album to be released, so they can promote it."  Mick
also states that it "is rumoured that Dom will be doing another Stonefish-
type instrumentals project."  For those who've never heard of The
Stonefish, they were an instro surf combo Dom worked with while The
Stems were still active.  I'm not sure how much came out by them, but I've
got an excellent 6-song 12" that came out in '86.  Back on The Stems' front,
"You may want to look out for another Stems compilation just released by
Running Circle in Spain.  I haven't heard it yet, but it is purported to have
at least one previously unreleased song on it."
       Also on the Australian front, "Some good news is that the Hoodoo
Gurus are back in action, so you will see them touring the USA early next
year."  And, "You may be interested to know the Summer Suns new CD,
called Bedbugs, came out on [recently].  It only has six songs, but Kim
Williams' studio musicians happened to be DM3 this time.  It's on the
House of Wax record label of course.

       As was mentioned in the Live section, The Silly Pillows have, after
eons of existing only in the home recording world, they've embarked on a
new phase:  playing out live.  However, this means that vocalist Linda
Smith, who lives in Baltimore, cannot participate as fully as she would
like, since the band is based in NY/NJ/PA.  As a result, she has bowed
out to make way for Ms. Shauna Guidici, who according to the press
release, "is linked to the Silly Pillows through SP keyboard player Charlie
Zayleskie, with whom she has now and again done a vocal-and-keyboard
duo act.  You'll hear Shauna on the next Silly Pillows album and see her
onstage with the Pillows in '97."

       I reviewed the pre-release version of The Original Sins' Bethlehem
(Bar None) last ish, but, finally, almost a year later, it's out on the
streets.
This is their strongest album since Move and their most diverse ever.  It
goes from bittersweet pop to out and out upbeat good times, down to
murky psychedelic blues, psych pop, and even some VU-like notions.
This is the third different version I've heard of this project and it's the
best
yet.  Truly fantastic.  Keep your mind open and let your ears rejoice.  Bye,
now.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
AURAL PLEASURES FOUND AT THESE LOCATIONS

360 Twist!
PO Box 9367
Denver, CO  80209
(303) 715-1858
[email protected]

3M&P
Fermo Posta 370
36 S. Martino B.A.
Verona, ITALIA

Blindspot Records
4160 Bachman Place
San Diego, CA  92103

Bomp/Voxx/Alive
PO Box 7112
Burbank, CA  91510

Charmkin Records
2605 39th St, NW #1
Washington, DC 20007

Clamarama
PO Box 422
Allston, MA  02134
[email protected]

Discovery Records
2034 Broadway
Santa Monica, CA  90404
www.discoveryrec.com

Dionysus/Hell Yeah/
Bacchus Archives
PO Box 1975
Burbank, CA  91507

Eggbert
PO Box 10022
Fullerton, CA  92635

Estrus Records
PO Box 2125
Bellingham, WA  98227

Get Hip Recordings
PO Box 666
Canonsburg, PA  15317

Fluffer Records
POB 31168
Seattle, WA  98103


Hillsdale Record Company
P.O. Box 641592
San Francisco, Calif. 94164
(tel). TUxedo 5-2176

Larsen Recordz
116, rue de Crey 73230
St. Alban-Leysse
FRANCE

Little Teddy Recordings
Mullerstr. 11
D-80469 Munchen
GERMANY

Lookout Records
PO Box 11374
Berkely, CA  94712

Mint Records
810 West Broadway #699
Vancouver, BC
CANADA  V5Z 4C9

Norton Records
Box 646
Cooper Station
NY, NY  10003

Perfect Pop Records
Bogstadveien 30/312
N-0355 Oslo
NORWAY

RPM USA Records
PO Box 10216
Baltimore, MD  21234

Splitsville Records
PO Box 750927
New Orleans, LA
       70175-0927

Square Target Records
PO Box 19673
Seattle, WA  98109

Stanton Park Records
PO Box 58
Newtonville, MA  02160

Vendetta Records
22 Byrd Close
Waterlooville, Hants
ENGLAND    PO75UX
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
WFUN DJ PICKS

*Blair Buscareno* - The Queers, The Subsonics, Maow, Fortune & Maltese,
Cub, The Original Sins, The Untamed Youth
*Larry Grogan* - Patti Smith Group, Super Furry Animals, Bob Dorough,
MC5
*Bob Kondrak* - The Kinks (s/t), The Kinks' Something Else, & The Kinks'
Kinda Kinks
*Lisa Furlong* -Don & Dewey, Fortune & Maltese,  & The Woggles
*Eric Fusco* - The Paladins, The Untamed Youth, Okeh R'n'B Box
*The Platterpuss* - The Wailers, The Litter, The Little Boy Blues, The
Mods, The Golliwogs
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
GOODBYE

Well, that about wraps it up for this one.  Thanks for tuning in.

               Blair

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