BOOK REVIEW! GOODMAN BEAVER by Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder (Kitchen Sink, 1984)

Last week I blabbed on about Harvey Kurtzman's 1959 paperback-only JUNGLE BOOK, so this go 'round why not upchuck this classic collection of early-sixties Kurtzman kraziness via the pages of HELP! I'm talkin' in this case 'bout the short-lived Goodman Beaver series, the very one featuring the same character who rose to the top of the publishing heap with starry-eyed aplomb and evil intent in JUNGLE BOOK's "Organization Man in the Grey Flannel Executive Suite" but a few years earlier! Only now he's been remade-remodeled for the hipster satire crowd that was eating mags like HELP! for breakfast and wiping up with MAD after dinner!

It would seem logical to build a series around this particular character no matter how innocent and nebbish-like he may have been. Mebbe Beaver is too goody good to be a character which any manly BLOG TO COMM reader with hair on his heart and a fire in his chest could comfy up to, but the stories are snat (think classic MAD with a more grown up, dare-I-say adult intent) and the enlarged artwork (most of the time one panel per page) is enough to keep your eyeballs on the lookout for alla that "chicken fat" that Bill Elder used to slip into his art during his days working with Kurtzman on these "new" comic books, as Les Daniels called 'em.

But I like 'em all even if Beaver does come off a little too nebbish for anyone to take in such large doses. Now I like nebbishness when it's done up right, but Kurtzman really knows how to take such a character and make him a reflection for our (OK, those old) times with these classic sagas which pretty much are a continuation of his old MAD and HUMBUG work right down to the rectangular printed word balloons and hoo hah gags. And if you, like me, spent your pre-pubehair days on the lookout for the original MAD reprints just for the pre-underground, snide, snat attitude of the Kurtzman-helmed stories you'll be more'n game for a book like this!

In these '61-'62 comics Beaver (a character who seems afloat in a world he did not make more'n Howard the Duck ever could be!) meets up with a variety of characters of both a tee-vee and comic strip/book variety, falling into adventures with them thus making for a perfect platform for Kurtzman to shoot off his mind regarding a variety of then up-and-comin' situations of both a political or social nature. And yeah these sagas might seem so ancient now, but back then were front and center on any thinking man's brain even more'n the cancellation of LEAVE IT TO BEAVER, and like why should you ignore the past just because it's all in black 'n white anyway?

For an example of the on-target satire and commentary found in this series, just take the debut Goodman Beaver story where  the guy meets up with none other'n Tarzan in a saga dealing with Soviet influence in Africa, where a Russian version of the Ape Man and Jane (Tarshov and Tanya) attempt to win over the chimpanzees from the control of the "decadent" Englishman! In the following story Beaver encounters Lloyd Bridges as Mike Nelson (SEA HUNT) in a saga that passes as a thinly-veiled spoof/homage to Don Quixote jousting at windmills, or at Soviet submarines in this case (as if I'd ever read anything as haughty as Don Quixote in the first place!). Beaver also dallies with a Superman who quits the superhero business because of a fickle, hero-hating public as well as learns first hand about the connection between handguns and "cool" when he joins the police force and must carry his pistol at all times thus becoming an unwitting sex symbol in the process!

One story you won't read here is "Goodman Goes Playboy," which is the one which got Kurtzman and HELP! into a huge stinking mess when it was originally published back '62 way! Y'see, this is the saga where Beaver meets up with the Archie Gang who, after falling under the spell of PLAYBOY magazine, were now into high-fidelity living and hyped up sexual prowess (with Jughead, whom I always assumed was a neuter, actually getting Betty knocked up!), and in typical Kurtzman fashion everything turns into a crazed mess when "Archer" perishes in an insane sex orgy and it is ultimately discovered that it was the Devil himself who took his soul in exchange for his good fortune. The story ends with a line of other cartoon characters queuing up to plunk their names on the dotted line with Beaver himself wondering whether or not it'd be worth the trouble to join up himself!

As anyone'd expect the entire shebang just didn't settle well with the Archie Comics people who after enduring one Archie satire after another from MAD for years finally decided to lower the ol' boom on Kurtzman and HELP! publisher James Warren. Well, one thing led to another and it all ended up with Archie Publications not only owning the original artwork but prohibiting the reprinting of the saga in this collection (other'n a few panels for decorative purposes!), a sore thumb which really upset both Kurtzman and Elder who believed "Goodman Goes Playboy" their finest hour. Really, the folk at Kitchen Sink, who were considering running the saga with the offending and copyrighted Archie characters faces blotted out, were rebuked under threat of losing every penny they had in their coffers and even non-ARCHIE characters from the story were prohibited from being shown on the front cover collage which only goes to show ya just how much Archie Comics meant business! But stories like this do sometimes have a happy ending...strangely enough the Archie people forgot to renew the copyright they had on this rather witty saga and now anyone can publish it if they like, so if there's gonna be another edition of this book (or better yet an entire HELP! collection) you might be able to finally read it without fear of reprisal. (As for me I have the original ish in my collection somewhere so I could care less since that's the kinda bum I am and shall remain!)

Gotta admit that Mother's Day never was one of my fave holidays, and it ain't because I'm not a mother unless you're talkin' in a common seventies sitcom usage of the term. It was just too fruity 'n feminine for me what with alla 'em flowers and cards, and what was worst about it was that there wasn't anything for us kids innit! Same thing goes for Father's Day (well, it wasn't feminine, but it was still too stodgy for me) w/o the flowers but with the cards and of course the obligatory tie. I guess the only reason I paid attention to it at all is because I was guilted into doing so by teachers and the like...y'know, "your mother does all these things for you so maybe you should show your appreciation by buying her a scarf or making her dinner and being extra nice this day..." Well, better to take her out rather'n subject her to any of my cooking and a box of chocolates is better'n a scarf, but what really got my gall about Mother's and Father's day was when I'd ask "why don't they have Kid's Day 'n my mom'd reply "EVERY day is Kid's Day"!!!! Yeah, tell me another one, willya??? Sheesh!

Not much else to blab about this week. Things're rather creepy-crawl 'round here, with loads of work and an ever-dwindling amt. of free time to just goof off in time-honored LEAVE IT TO BEAVER fashion. Managed to uncover a few boxes of old comic-related paperbacks from my youth (and beyond) that'll probably provide fodder for a few mid-week postings not to mention some old fanzines that I totally forgot I had (ditto). Also dug out my old photocopied NEXT BIG THINGs which really have provided me with hours (OK...minutes) of funtime reading pleasure. Sure wish that Lindsay Hutton would write like he did then in the here and now...I mean nowadays he comes off all nice 'n pleasant but back then he could get nasty which is the way things should be (unless that nastiness is directed against me, natch!). C'mon Lindsay, I know you still have it in you to tear a few extra assholes into people!

Following are reviews of some items I've lent ear to this week, a few items courtesy Bill Shute, one thanks to Paul McGarry, another thanks to Feeding Tube Records and yet another one thanks to none other'n Bob Forward which was rather nice of him. The rest I actually bought myself which is saying somethin' in these days when money seems to be rarer'n gay people at an Anita Bryant record signing (you can see I'm really digging deep into the joke book for these gems!), so let's just say that as far as fresh music to mine lobes go I'm doin' kinda hokay! And maybe if you read on you'll actually learn something, like just how pale and one-dimensional most rock "criticism" comes off next to the fannish and from-the-head (not "heart") rantings that I've been pleasuring you with for a longer time'n any of us could imagine...

Iggy and the Stooges-READY TO DIE CD-R burn (originally on Fat Possum)

Yeah I still kinda cozy up to the idea of an Iggy 'n the Stooges in the here and now (sheesh, it's one of the few connections with the boffo past we still have), and I also thought the original reunion platter THE WEIRDNESS was better'n most wonks out there sputtering with abject indignation believed it to be. But eh, if this 'un doesn't sound about as half-there as any Iggy solo platter that got unleashed during the eighties no matter how hard we listened to 'em and deluded to ourselves that he still had it before even that became too embarrassing to do. I don't think that even a dozen or so re-listens to this'll get me to change my mind...if it's new Stooges you want stick with those poppin'-on-all-cylinders Skydog releases from quite a few years back 'n listen to this only if you're that hard up. Which I hope you ain't.

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International Harvester-SOV GOTT ROSE-MARIE CD-R burn (originally on Love Records, Finland then Silence Records Sweden, or something along those lines)

Bob Forward forwarded me this 'un as well as a burn of the pre IH Parson Sound double CD set, obviously unaware of the rave review I gave that 'un in the latest issue of my very own crudzine. (Don't worry, I'll undoubtedly give it a re-appraisal in an upcoming post!) Gotta say that I wasn't exactly cozying up to listening to this considering just how much those Trad Gras Och Stenar platters I reviewed back '05 way just sounded like hippies on the farm guzzling Boone's Farm but this '68 effort is quite the excitable one. On one hand SOV GOTT ROSE-MARIE comes off like the perfect eurock group we've all been waiting for (with the proper balance of art and rock with neither side overpowering each other) and on the other just as late-sixties mid-Amerigan punk rock as both Can and Amon Duul (I & II) did at their addled best. One of the better distillations of European classicism and straightforward smart rock almost on par with early Savage Rose, and I won't even mention the spiritual presence of that ever-droning group that seems to permeate these continental aggregates with about as much of a vengeance as they did with various late-seventies local yokels. Not that I'm doing you a favor'r anything, unless you're sick and tired of me tying in everything good that happened in rock 1967-1980 to this particular act no matter how true my opines may be.

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Various Artists-CHIPMUNK BOOTHEELS A-WANDERIN' CD-R burn (compiled by Bill Shute)

This one might be the secret code to us all that Bill Shute is a-flounderin'. Starts off good enough with the "Mexican Hat Dance" as sung by Sherry Sue (fits in fine since I'm listenin' to this on the Cinco de Mayo!) as well as a rare Johnny and the Hurricanes single side, but then we get to hear such weirdities as the Chipmunks doing "Mr. Tambourine Man" (well, their version is better'n William Shatner's) and some of those "Celebrities at their worst" outtakes, this time courtesy Colonel Sanders, Jack Palance and of course Martin and Lewis with those infamous outtakes from THE CADDY commercial ("It'll make ya shit!"). Then it starts getting back into musical gear with the Meters and a mambo'd up version of "The James Bond Theme" before...whaz' zis, Frank Sinatra Jr. doing GUMBY, Julie London "Louie Louie" and Mel Torme "Send in the Clowns"??? Well, these weird mish moshes and oldsters trying to keep up with the new trends were always good for a few laffs!

The whole mess ends up kinda mish-moshy with Joe Piscopo floundering around doing that Sinatra impression somebody out there thought was great but just reminds me of what a dunce he was in the early-eighties trying to keep the SNL boat afloat. At least the Geezinslaw Brothers had a li'l country corn fun in their spoof of Kenny Rogers and the Redd Foxx tracks were dirty enough but not him as his dirtiest. And it all closes up with Flip Wilson trying to be hip 'n funny at the same time while broadening his appeal to a white clientele, or at least that's the impression I got!

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DISSIPATED FACE WITH DANIEL CARTER EP (Roaratorio)

Don't let the Raymond Pettibon cover fool you---this ain't exactly some SST discard that cluttered up the amerindie record collections of the late-eighties! Dissipated Face, although they could have made it as a fringe signing to that infamous label, are a tad different'n the reams of collegeboy experimental bleats that were getting a whole lotta hosannas from cloistered clods like myself. As if you actually knew, Dissipated Face were a hot trio that was romping through the post-fun era of NYC rock back when they laid these sides down at CBGB on July 31st of 1986, and their mix of everything from free jazz and late-seventies avant-prog to punk rock made for some of the wildest mergings of the form since Red Transistor. Nothing as out-there as that group, but better'n many a similar-minded excursion into freedom aesthetics. What's best is that none other'n noted avant saxist himself Daniel Carter sat in giving a particularly Albert Ayler-ish air to these excursions, so if you were a fan of this guy's various endeavors on the stage of the CBGB Lounge during the final days of Hilly you'll be glad to know that he was in on the punk jazz game for a longer time'n you could've dreamed!

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Various Artists-EVERYTHING'S FIRE, EXCEPT WHAT ISN'T CD-R burn (compiled by you-know-who!)

Another bastoid collection here which starts off superfine enough (with the Raves, the Downliners Sect and even an early Barry White number recorded back when he could actually see his dick) before gettin' a li'l corballus with the gospel'n all before riveting back into gear with Lightnin' Slim and a McDonalds commercial jingle (?!?!?!). It even ends with one of those Archie cutout records you used to get on the backs of cereal boxes, which only goes to show you that Bill was eating a well-balanced breakfast before any of us fanablas even thought of it!

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Fat Creeps/Zebu! split 12-inch 45 rpm EP (Feeding Tube)

This week's pick from the Feeding Tube pile of ever-growing promos comes this interesting foot-long extended play reminiscent of indie produce of the past. Fat Creeps are also reminiscent of past self-produced product, two gals and a guy making rather typical mid-eighties pop-wave for a good quarter-century later. Sprite and up-to-it, Fat Creeps could have earned a good page or two in any self-respecting amerindie fanzine of the eighties and that's no lie! On the other hand Zebu! might have rated at least two whole pages, as these guys (a duo utilizing a whole lotta help) seem to take the same eighties pop aesthetic only they add a lotta atonal avant garde stylings here and there making for a rather cacophonous if artistic statement. Not bad in teeny-weeny doses.

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Androids of Mu-BLOOD ROBOTS LP (Water Wing, available through Forced Exposure)

Like the Mob and the Astronauts, the Androids of Mu were one of those anarchopunk groups comin' outta England who I gotta say sounded too good for the movement they pledged their allegiances to. Not that they didn't have the anarchist credo firmly emblazoned on all of their innermost organs, but their music sounded like something from an earlier and perhaps even freer era, the times which born and bred such decidedly punkoid aggregations as the Deviants, Pink Fairies and Hawkwind 'stead of the late-seventies local scene which had seemingly been rudderless ever since the Sex Pistols splattered out in a blaze of somethingorother, 'n it sure wasn't glory.

An all-gal aggregate, the Androids of Mu didn't flaunt their good looks nor did they ugly themselves up to "prove a point" and, like the aforementioned  anarchobands, they certainly weren't peppering their repertoire with blabbermouth assaults against the powers that be complete with obscene attack spewed to bolster their rad cred with da masses. Naw, they were nice 'n sublime about it to the point where even their drudgery of marriage track wasn't an Eve Libertine pukeout nor a Deadly Nightshade "woe is me" MS. mag mutual ruboff.

Of course, the best thing about the Androids of Mu is that their music came straight outta the sorta-punk stratum where acts like the Daevid Allen-era Gong and brother band Here and Now were floating about, only with a cheaper guitar, synthesizer and choppier musical abilities. Makes for a pretty good time, and in fact the combination of late-sixties sensibilities merged with a smarter late-seventies punk appeal and an appreciation of subtle political discourse makes for a pretty hotcha effort that I sure wish had gotten out a whole lot more back then.

More stuff is out there just beggin' to be heard (at least by me). The elusive TRIBUTE TO BERT WEEDON tape with the Mob is one must-have as are any of the zillion cassette-only comps 'n whatever these lasses most surely appeared on. And of course any input from you would be appreciated (as if I would ever get any from you snobs, not that I would particularly want any from some stuck up self-proclaimed anarchist who's probably mad that the govt. has cut off his Social Security checks!).

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Brain Sound-AN ATTEMPT TO RECORD COINCIDENCE LP (Not On Label, available via Forced Exposure)

And to close out this weekend's parade of pusillanimous platters we've got this strange affair, the reissue of an Austrian accapella group recorded live in Newport Beach California in 1972 making some of the strangest mewls and howls I've heard since the infamous salmonella outbreak in the school cafeteria back when I was eight. Some guy trying to push this platter attempted to make a krautrock connection (even though they're Austrians, and thus kraut by association) while another said Penderecki, but the first thing that came to mind when I heard this was the Scratch Orchestra so if you're game for some long-forgotten avant garde soundage and the local library is closed this might be your best bet. Nothing earth-shaking here, but strange enough to get your electronic music hating pop to throw a fit about the state of this world if he ever got an earfulla it!

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And so, as the old saying goes sayonara until next time, and if you can stand it don't forget to check up on some of the recommended blogs that I've linked up on the left. You may be bored silly readin' some, but at least it'll keep you away from DEMOCRATIC UNDERGROUND.

BOOK REVIEW...HARVEY KURTZMAN'S JUNGLE BOOK (Ballantine, 1959)

While rifling through a box of paperbacks I've long thought lost to time I discovered this particular gem, none other'n the original printing of MAD/TRUMP/HELP! creator Harvey Kurtzman's very own JUNGLE BOOK! Released in that ever-boffo year of 1959, this solo excursion into the realm of satire came and went with but nary a whimper and only one printing, but despite its rather short shelf-life the legend behind the book seemed to live on for quite some time. And hey, if I didn't mention that I was one fanabla who wanted to scoop this 'un up after discovering its existence well, this just wouldn't be a BLOG TO COMM post now, would it?

So with typical anal retentive bravado I decided to pluck this paperback out from the reams of old MAD and HUMBUG offerings moiling in that cardboard box and give it another go, even though I do possess the more recent reprinting in larger and easier to read dimensions. After all, in this case I don't have to torture myself by reading Art Spiegelman's introduction which I guess is there not only for his boffo name credo but to tell us what we're about to receive, and hasn't he inundated us with his at-times tres-obvious and politically pompous opines for a longer time'n any of us coulda imagined?

Fans of Kurtzman's magazine work might be a li'l distracted over the more sophisticado approach here, as it's clear he isn't quite aiming for the kiddie audience with this particular 'un. But then again this ain't one of them MAD LOOKS AT OLD MOVIES THEY HAVEN'T SHOWN ON TEE-VEE IN TWENNY-FIVE YEARS knockoffs which, while fuh-nee to the max, were pretty much LCD crankouts capitalizing on that mag's over-the-top success. Naw, yer gonna hafta use a li'l brainpower to make your way through this collection of etapoint late-fifties spoofs dealing with a wide array of subjects that might have been considered the perfect counterpoint to alla that hypocritical/sexist/racist/bigoted/repressive/(put your favorite uptight and socially-conscious adjective in here) culture that's long dead 'n gone, which on the other hand reminds us of just why those days were oh-so superior to anything that's happened since. At least back then we knew what to do with rabble-rousers who actually spout off about funtime culture being hypocritical/sexist/racist...

"Thelonius Violence, Like, Private Eye" is a fairly good spoof of all of those late-fifties hip PI and cop shows they used to run like PETER GUNN, RICHARD DIAMOND, M-SQUAD and JOHNNY STACCATO...y'know, the ones which glamorized undercover detective work whether on or off the force as being fraught with hotcha ladies and big oafs who want you to "get off the case!" driving the message home with a few hard whacks to the hero's skull. In many ways this is merely an update of the old "Kane Keene" story Kurtzman wrote for MAD a good five or so years earlier, only brainier. Since Kurtzman was now writing for an older, mature audience instead of some suburban pimplefarm kid who didn't know whether to buy a comic book or an interest in Stinky Wilson's dead cat with his last dime I guess he could afford to smarten up the thing.

"The Organization Man in the Red Flannel Executive Suite" features the debut of the Goodman Beaver character, someone we'll be hearing about on this blog in the near future. I never understood the fascination there was with advertising executives, the magazine industry and the entire Madison Avenue buzz of the fifties and sixties, but considering all of the takeoffs of the genre that were popping up in the satire rags of the day it must've been big dinner table conversation material. Beaver's fresh from executive school and ready to do his best to make his mark for the same people who give us such wholesome publications as KILL and WHOOBOY, but will the industry eat him up and spit his bones out like some mad monster, eager to take on yet another fresh upstart and repeat the entire sordid process? Well if you think I'm gonna tell ya then you've got another think comin'!

Another creation of the fifties was the "adult" western, a term which by the late-sixties would have conjured up thoughts of cowgals and injun ladies showin' off their bare juggins! Well, maybe that was the case considerin' some of the westerns that would be comin' out once 1970 clocked in, but here we're talkin' 'bout somethin' that was a tad more "grown up" 'n not just another crankout cowpuncher tale with a grinnin' hero who gets crucial advice from his horse. "Compulsion on the Range" is a thinly-veiled laff at the expense of this genre featuring obvious swipes of Marshal Dillon and Chester and the psychological hoo-hah behind why these cowboys just hadda be the fastest draw in the west! And it ain't as phallic as you think!

Closing out the book is "Decadence Degenerated," one of those Deep South sagas of lust 'n lynchings that really must've resonated with alla 'em beatnik types who stormed down to Selma because Joan Baez told 'em to. All yer favorite stereotypes are trotted out in this tale about the shy and reclusive Si Mednick who cozies up to the tit-ilating Honey Lu, and the local yokels who lynch Mednick when Honey Lu turns up head-bashed and ditch-ditched. And it sure reads a fanabla of a lot better'n anything Tennessee Irving wrote!

So there you has it, a downright Harvey Kurtzman masterpiece that is bound to make fans of his from MAD to LITTLE ORPHAN BOSOM hip hip hooray from here to West Middlesex and back w/o stopping for traffic signals. Try finding a copy (I guess ebay is as good a place as any, or maybe even Amazon)...an original may be nice but even the nineties reissue would work fine...I mean it ain't like you have to read Spiegelman's intro!

Seems as if there's a whole lotta interesting underground films (or ah-vaht ghad if you will) popping up on youtube as of late. If first it wasn't the first few minutes (where's the rest?) of Christopher Young's OBJECT LESSON:



Or Ian Hugo's BELLS OF ATLANTIS with that exceptional electronic music score that sounds like Kluster twenty years before the fact:



It's none other that Gregory Markopoulos' TWICE A MAN that's suddenly appearing from out of the ether!



Kinda strange seeing this 'un out 'n about especially after reading all the stories about how Marcopoulos, after heading for Europe with boyfriend Robert Beavers in the seventies, had all of his films put under lock 'n key but I guess even a man's death for umpteen years'll unlock any wishes of him self-suppressing his own work no matter how much he wanted others not to experience it. Good for us if bad for him for his films, like  many of these under-the-concrete productions we've read about for so many years, deserve to be seen if only so we can understand the roots of today's pretentious, self-conscious, socially pious and let's offend the rubes art which are out 'n about even more'n the pollen in this otherwise clear spring air.

TWICE A MAN is not only noteworthy for being an example of early (1962) sixties underground film, but for the use of Markopoulos' "in camera editing" which creates all those weirdie effects that remind me of Stan Brackage. It's also "famous" because of the presence of future Oscar winner and cousin to failed presidential candidate Michael Olympia Dukakis as "the young mother" which I guess differentiates her from the older lady who's what else but "the old mother"! Kinda interesting seeing such a big name appear in such an underground film as this, at least one that wasn't directed by Andy Warhol.

As far as to what the gist 'n meaning of TWICE A MAN is well, I know that personal interpretations can be a dangerous thing especially when it comes to the Bible and Shakespeare, but since I can't locate any Cliff Notes for this film I'll just have to wing it. And you know that's going to be tough given the strange lapses in sound, impossible to hear monologue and scene juxtapositions which woulda sent that middle-aged couple outte the nearest art house and straight to THE SOUND OF MUSIC faster'n you can say fanabla. Here's what I think TWICE A MAN is about...young guy is homo and feeling rather confused about it, while his mother (who looks pretty young herself) is upset, but that's only because she wishes that she could have sex with him. Where the old lady comes in as well as the other guys in suits I do not know, but if its dream logic you're after you probably can't find a better film than this!

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Not that much in the music revooze this week, though thankfully I managed to get a few newies in that you must might wanna know about (but probably won't). Well, you gotta admit that it's at least a nize li'l selection of various newities and Shuteisms that I'm writing up for this week's consumption even if none of what's forthcoming's exactly something that's gonna make you wanna toss confetti all over the sidewalk. And although there really isn't that much goin' on in the new releases (of both new and archival digs) that's making me want to part with the kopeks these days at least things such as the following flotsam have been making life a li'l easier to bear and if you don't agree with me all I gotta say is, in the words of Eddie Haskell, "well you'd think differently if you've been pushed around as much as I've been!" (Yeah that don't make much sense but I thought it looked cool enough!)

Mark Cunningham-BLOOD RIVER DUSK LP (Feeding Tube)

Hmmmm, another set o' platters from Feeding Tube records! Didn't even finish the previous one but wha' th' hey... Here's a surprise, a solo platter from former Mars bass guitarist Mark Cunningham that was recorded in his new home country of Spain, and it's a real wild one too. To tell the truth I wasn't that jazzed by Cunningham's Don King group even though I hoped to heck they'd be the logical extension of seventies no wave prowess, but it turns out that this particular project doesn't have any of the Soho smug/politically pious feeling of the eighties no wave variation and comes off like...well a music that is rather fresh and intriguing rather than off-putting. Cunningham's trumpet blows sullen and detached, and the electronic backing ain't overbearing or obtrusive but accompanies Cunningham swell. Neat surprise of the year...I really like it and I can't believe I said that given some of the anti-artistic schmooze I'm wont to spurt.

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Great Valley-CONTINENTAL LUNCH LP (Feeding Tube)

Dream pop for people who like to take a lotta Ny Quil before they go to bed. Flowing and at times flitzy musings that have a strange appeal as they go off into strange tangents not often associated with music of this sort. So rooted in seventies aesthetics yet abstract enough that even Eno (who came to mind while listening to this) would have thought this outre. Comes in boffo cover that looks like it belongs on some fresh picking 1975 album soon to tranform into cutout bin '76 bargain and ultimately flea market fodder '77 cheap buy.

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Various Artists-BIGFOOT POPCORN JUBILEE CD-R (compiled by Bill Shute)

Another mad mix of styles and genres courtesy of Bill Shute, a guy who really can find these strange mp3's 'n whatever onna web 'n download 'em to his heart's content. This particular 'un has everything from novelty ("Poppin' Popcorn") to gospel (the Southwind Quartet's "John the Revelator") to even a side from some late-sixties Christmas album that I assume was a free giveaway courtesy some business, and it all fits into my own suburban slob mindset okay-like, or at least a whole lot better'n alla those opera records my mother used to spin while she did the ironing back when I was a kid. Personal faves include both sides of the Party Boys' "We Gotta Party," the Del Nights' "Everything" esp. with that high-pitched femme vocal squeaking the title throughout, and Ken Nordine's hyping of the "Evatone" flexi-disc in the best late-sixties way possible.

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The Mob-MAY INSPIRE REVOLUTIONARY ACTS CD (Overground, UK)

The best laid plans of moose and men...here I was gonna this particular Cee-Dee as part of a larger gang-review featuring other mainstays of the late-seventes/early-eighties "anarcho-punk" movement, only it's gonna take awhile for the Astronauts download to make it my way and the Androids of Mu reish is gonna hafta wait with the rest of my next Forced Exposure order. In other words...there goes that brilliant idea! Well at least reviewing this particular Mob platter on its lonesome won't detract any from its ultimo greatness which I gotta say is rare for a good portion of groups of this genre, most of 'em who were so doctrinaire and hidebound they just couldn't stand the idea that anybody was listening to their music for the sake of pleasure and ENTERTAINMENT, y'know?

The roughness of these tracks (which I wouldn't doubt weren't taken directly from the released cassettes as if "masters" survive) have a particularly late-sixties primitive appeal to 'em...in fact they sound as if they could have been lifted off of some rare asetates recorded by yet another under-the-radar decidedly non-progressive English group of the '69-'71 strata. Fantastic wall of guitar sound here (with more than a few [sub] conscious references to the Pink Fairies and Hawkwind) courtesy the trio, and what's even better is that the lyrics are totally tasteful w/o the mindless mewls of many of the Mob's compatriots who were moaning so much about anarchy on one hand yet seemed so upset when the government would cut their dole money...you know the big hypocricy regarding how these kiddos wanted to be free yet thought the world (govt/rich people/someone with pull) owed 'em a living. Still can't make that 'un quite out.

Even better'n the "official" LET THE TRIBE INCREASE album in its cassette-fidelity and general spontaneity. One for those who do have a soft spot in their hearts for early-eighties Rough Trade catalogs that used to make their way to our door with surprising regularity, not forgetting the third-hand copies of SOUNDS circulating among those of us who didn't quite have the right amount of dosh back when we sure could have used it.

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Various Artists-TINY TIM'S NEW CLOTHES CD-R (compiled by Bill Shute)

Another nice Shute package featuring a number of worthies including a rare B. Bumble and the Stingers side, Tiny Tim doing both Jerry Lee Lewis and Dooley Wilson (and doin' 'em good!), Jerry without the "Lee" Lewis showing yet another facet of his many talents and even a rare Searchers single that nobody outside of Greg Shaw probably ever heard! It's a pleasing, heart-warm-y and nostalgic disque too not only with Crazy Otto's tack piano and drums instro pieces (sounds like the music they used to play with the silent OUR GANG comedies on channel 33 back when I was a kid) but for the inclusion of two tracks from that Danny Kaye HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN album that my mom used to spin for me incessantly back when I was but a mere turdler! Kinda brought back them pre-worry 'n school days feelings way more'n a surprise enema ever could!

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FEDERAL DUCK CD-R burn (originally on Musicor)

Another wonder from the Bill Shute collection, this time of a late-sixties eclectic bunch who did a fairly good job mixing psych, pop, jazz and classical but were stuck on Musicor who weren't exactly out there pumping their product to the press or radio stations. The resultant spew does give me rather mixed feelings at times sounding rather snat and at others typical late-sixties wuss pop, but despite the typically abysmal bouts at tenderness its an overall pleasant platter that doesn't irritate the same way similar-minded pop-art projects have. If you like the BEFORE THERE WAS...TIME album or THE SPOILS OF WAR you might like FEDERAL DUCK. But then again, you might not.

BOOK REVIEW! A HISTORY OF FILMS by John L. Fell (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979)

Naw it ain't exactly like I'm whatcha'd call an avid reader of film histories (especially those posing as college textbooks), but considering how this 'un's been more or less a constant doody-time read for the past six months (don't wanna soil my NANCY books with human fecal remains) I will admit that it comes in handy when the move to movement may occur.

Like I said, this one just hadda've been created solely for classroom text fodder because well, it sure reads like it. And even with all of the expected points of view and failures that come with such tomes, A HISTORY OF FILMS does have its little bits of worthiness that make this at least a tad desirable.

The pre-moom days are adequately described, and the dawn of film proper is good enough unless you want to consult a specialty book or website for more detailed information. Other'n that this book, despite the expected snobberies, does a rather good job detailing the big names and the wheelings and dealings that went on behind the scenes, and even when the concept of "film as aht" is proudly displayed it ain't like you're exactly wanting to ditch this 'un out the window like you would with a collection of Judith Crist musings.

Nice mini-bios of all the big name directors abound, and even some of the more "outre" figures who you thought wouldn't rate even a paragraph in any other book like say, Luis Bunuel, get hefty coverage. And hey, there's even a chapter devoted to the "alternative" cinema of the early avant garde and underground which I will admit is something that I'd never thought I'd see in a film history book then or especially now for that matter. Makes for an easier time of gathering up pertinent information'n I had inna late-seventies trying to comb reference books for mentions of Kenneth Anger!

Still, you do have to put up with the occasional innerlectual theorizing and mentions of Marxist film critiques and various other dated ideas (not to mention the author actually getting excited over LAST TANGO IN PARIS for reasons other'n looking at Maria Schneider's patch and CITIZEN KANE as if it were somehow superior to any Bowery Boys flick extant ), but the chapters on the early days, Griffith and the development of the film industry both in the USA and abroad are info-packed even if they are condensed even more'n a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. Of course it would have been boffo if a chapter or two was dedicated to the z-films of William Beaudine and Ed Wood Jr. that have been both lionized and mocked these past four or so decades, but even I couldn't hope for something as wonderful as that!

ROCK 'N ROLL IS DEAD---LONG LIVE REISSUES!

Well yeah, rock is dead and long rotted as I've been telling you for the past umpteen years or as you can tell by reading any of the competing "rock music" blogs that are still up and running. However, thankfully there are still some reasons for you not to take the easy way out and go Mantovani like I'm sure you've been tempted to lo these many years. Following are some never before heard by my ears recordings that I've been fortunate enough to experience as of late, mostly reissues and archival digs with even a few newies thrown in to give us all hope for a future that looks more like the past if anything! And hey, sometimes I think that if I woke up tomorrow and it was 1962 (or even 1972 but not 1982) again I'd be the happiest guy alive, and come to think of it most of you would be too unless you're some miscreant social planner type who sees klansmen hiding under the bed and perverts "bullied" because they like the feeling of feces in their colon being broken up by hard erect objects. At least back then they knew enough to throw people like you in prison where you most certainly belonged, even if you didn't exactly cherish the idea of being on your knees with the nazis just so's they'll protect you from the blacks!

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Before we get into the main vein of this writeup, here's a rather invigorating review of Lou Reed's ROCK 'N ROLL ANIMAL platter I thought you oughta read if only because it begins with a name-drop of none other than obscure and mystical rockscribe figure Wayne McGuire. Considering that this came from a college freebee paper it's amazing that the thing reads as credibly as it does (and it doesn't hurt that I agree with Mr. Foye's opines even if ROCK 'N ROLL ANIMAL is more pose 'n pout), especially when the reams of collegekid scribing I've come across o'er the years come off like Erma Bombeck after a few too many pink ladies at the garden party. And there was this one character I remember who actually went by the name of "Guz Scullin" who wrote this particularly rancid prose for one college paper tying in everything that was honest and noteworthy in late-seventies "music" to...Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes??? Really, was it actually thirtysome years ago that even a relative fluffweight as Elvis Costello seemed so revolutionary and trendsetting and "out-there" in the face of blind Eagle worship? Well, next to the stuff Scullin and his classic rock pals were pumping to even Elmer Fudd singing in the shower came off avant garde!

Anyway, enjoy some truly hotcha rockscribing for once in your life, some of it coming right up...

The Velvet Underground-SOUNDTRACKS, 46th ANNIVERSARY DELUXE EDITION 3-CD-R + 1 DVD-R set (no label)

This collection comes as the surprise of the week if not month, but don't get your jockeys too far up your crack because it ain't like this set's chock fulla any ne'er before heard obscurities. Most of this has been in circulation for years, though if you don't have the Warhol Museum stuff that hasn't been issued legally or the soundtracks to THE CHELSEA GIRLS and HEDY that have appeared on long gone collections this is the place to get 'em all in one nice package.

As for me, the ten minutes of CHELSEA GIRLS Velvetizing taken from the DVD release was an ear-opener as it sounded almost totally different from the audience take that's been circulating since the eighties (which also pops up here for interesting comparison mongering). The brief clips from the PHILLIP JOHNSON GLASS HOUSE film as well as the heavily distorted "I'll Be Your Mirror" from SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF ANDY WARHOL were also enjoyed if only because of their rarity and hey, I'll listen to any Velvets even if it sounds like it was recorded in the vast cavernous reaches of  Patrick Amory's obviously cavernous rectum.

As an added bonus comes a DVD-R of the Velvets filmed live in Boston '67 doing a wide passel of sounds that I doubt any of us ever heard before including the rarity "I Heard Her Call My Name" as well as an early take of "Walk and Talk It" guaranteed to get any self-respecting fan of the band salivating worse'n Sam during his days of dementia. Oddly enough, what I got with my package was not this promisingly juicy slice of Velvets live that I hoped but the Japanese film classic TERROR OF MECHAGODZILLA that, while not a bad flick in itself, ain't exactly what I was looking forward to after the promise of a CD-R of a poorly filmed Velvet Underground show had been circulating for quite awhile. It was kinda like the old sitcom standby routine where a buncha guys are hoping to see naughty nudie films and all they get were home movies of someone's trip to Mexico, while at the exact moment the Women's Club was getting ready to view  what they thought were the vacation trip flicks only to get a buncha teenage gals romping around in the all together! Mighta been funny when you saw it on tee-vee back then, but I sure felt bummed. Oh well, it'll probably be on youtube within a week.

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The Infrared Radiation Orchestra-9 GREAT ROCK 'N' ROLL DANCE HITS; PREPARING THE FEAST OF SKELDON CD's (Jargon Records, available from Kim Draheim, 2457 State Route 89, Seneca Falls NY 13148 USA or try ked0917@aol.com if you so desire)

Oh no...more recordings by OLD FOGIES!!!! Well, I'm more'n positive that we're all gettin' up there now and besides, considering just how dead 'n decayed rock 'n roll is here in 2013 (no later than '68, '82 at the very latest, and 2006 when they boarded up CBGB the final nail) I'll take my rock 'n roll any way I can even if Grandma Moses were to appear in a leather g-string and pasties singing "Your Pretty Face is Going to Hell" while cutting up an effigy of James Taylor with an electric carving knife. Well, it'd probably be a whole lot sexier'n the stuff that is being presented as eroticism these days which, once you strip away the clothes, tattoos, shaved nether regions and various piercings, is about as sexy as a medical book showing feminine hygiene techniques...for your pooch.

But heyheyHEY ya gotta admit that its oldsters like the Infrared Radiation Orchestra who are the only ones who are cranking out hotcha high energy rock these days, and the reason is rather obvious if ya ask me. It's because their rockism memory goes back farther'n MTV videos that's for sure! Like back to the mid-sixties when rock was  finally getting some heavy-duty respect (or, as Lou Reed once said, "rock 'n roll is the real avant garde!") and heading for a quick supernova before becoming a mode that was, for the most part, meaningless. And as far as I'm concerned it was the SIXTIES where rock (and rock 'n roll especially) held its last stand before becoming mutated beyond belief, and with a name like the Infrared Radiation Orchestra you know you ain't in for that modern mewl emote that has permeated most rock music for the past few decades. Now they ain't gonna be a Hawkwind knockoff like I kinda had 'em figured to be with that moniker, but they're still pretty good. They kinda sound if the members were locked in a closet since 1978 and just emerged thinking that ROCK SCENE was still being published, that's where their minds are at and hopefully will remain!

The Infrareds have two platters out that are pretty snat, sorta in the intersection between the Figures of Light, Flamingo Road, the Bizarros, post-synth Simply Saucer and a few dozen more local rock groups that sorta flopped around in the seventies but came off so hot thirtysome years later when there was nothing left that could touch it. Both of their albums are definitely worth the time and (perhaps not so much) trouble it'll take to procure 'em, because frankly in the here and now it ain't like you can just run down to the local record shop and buy stuff like this. That is, if there really are any record shops left (alla 'em here've been bulldozed or now serve as law offices or plumbing depots...go figure!)

PREPARING THE FEAST OF SKELDON is the longer of the two, translating into what you would have called a two-album set a good three-and-a-half decades back. Here the trio of Kim Draheim (guitar, theremin and vocals), Paul Nolan (drums and vocals) and Richard Terry (bass guitar and vocals) rage through some hot sixties/seventies hot flash points done (thankfully) w/o the self-conscious back-patting and self-congratulatory feelings associated with way too many sixties leftovers that are about as appetizing as four-day-old meatloaf. Nothing that I would call upper-echelon true (that lofty height being reserved for the higher-than-high standards set forth by the Velvet Underground, Stooges and even Seeds), but powerfully potent and even more so in this post-rock era which, come to think of it, is the "no future" that was being blabbed about ad infinitum back in the late-seventies. And it all ends with a mad medley of "Eight Miles High"/"Third Stone From the Sun"/"2,000 Light Years From Home"/"Interstellar Overdrive" that fortunately doesn't make you think of your older sister's first boyfriend, the one that your dad beat up when he brought her home two minutes late some dark Friday evening.

You may like 9 GREAT ROCK 'N' ROLL DANCE HITS better, but then again you might not! Shorter in length but still worth the wallet, 9 features more hot trio workouts that touch on six-oh in some spots and psych-o in others (and late-seventies local group powerpop elsewhere), and overall this 'un does make for a nice companion piece to the above (so like, ORDER 'EM BOTH AT THE SAME TIME!!!). I can even detect some snattier British Invasion moves done up with the same production and overall execution that had college profs uttering paens of pleasure thinking that this music wasn't only in the realms of dumbasses but art on the same plateau as Shakespeare and Bach. But I like it anyway...nice, smooth and really a surprise here in an age when waiting for the next wowzer to be delivered to your door takes a whole longer wait'n it did back during the glory days of mail order record businesses. You really would be doing a good deed for your collection picking both of these sides up for your own personal enjoyment, and while you're at it, send the guys some money willya?

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A.R. & Machines-DIE GRUNE REISE/THE GREAT JOURNEY CD/DVD set (Tangram, Germany)


Yeah, even after all these years I'm still lookin' for them hot seventies groups that I hope will give me the same kinda thrill that I got when I first slapped on those old Alice Cooper and Stooges albums oh so long ago. Y'know what I'm talkin' about...bargain bin unadulterated high energy suburban slob FUNZIES, the same kind that the Seeds and Sonics and the whole NUGGETS mentality was supposed to mean to people like us only the scourge of progressive rock and people too chicken to say they liked Guy Lombardo so they liked the Moody Blues kinda overtook everything. Well, at least it overtook everything until rock 'n roll (or just plain "rock music" by now ) became obsolete (and I beating a dead issue this post or what!) because the kids were just as much a buncha assholes as their folks were only they were too altruistic to admit it.

Although there are many an unrecorded group that deserves to be discovered I kinda get the feeling that the Amerigan scene has been tapped out for all its worth. Of course there are some promising releases that are scheduled to come our way pretty soon, but otherwise I have the sick feeling that we've pretty much heard all there is to be heard outta this nation of ours unless some delusional sixty-plusser who was in some wild 60s/70s underground aggregate gets the idea that maybe we wouldn't mind hearing his nth-string band no matter how loathed and hated they were back when they were actually delusional enough to think that Kim Fowley was gonna walk into the bar they were playing and offer to produce 'em like "that!"

Krautrock has always been a good source of these late-sixties/seventies jamz. This is a proven fact especially when considering how the entire genre (at least at its fringiest) adhered to the wilder aspects of mid-Amerigan trash aesthetics rather than they did of English progressive rock regurgitations of early-twentieth century classical moves. Y'know, those panderings that in retrospect seem more like a lame attempt to relay to the oldsters that this rock music wasn't just a buncha noise, but had "class" and "integrity" and all of those things that tin pan alley, symphonic struts and other "legitimate" forms of music most certainly possessed as well (it didn't work). Another proven fact is that a good portion of krautrock at its most extreme could easily be played in heavy rotation with everything from the Dolls to the Remains with a little Beefheart and STARSAILOR thrown in, and if groups like Ainigma or Siloah weren't stuck in their little Teutonic enclaves and got out more maybe more people would be trying to gobble up their albums the same way holdover Beatle fans in the mid-seventies were on the lookout for that flea market copy of YESTERDAY AND TODAY that just "might" have the butcher cover underneath the pasteover!

Dunno how A.R. and Machines would fit into this, but gawrsh I sure hoped they would have been a fun slice of krautrock with enough punkian overtones to make even Greg Shaw blush. Yeah we all knew that A.R. is in fact ex-Rattle Achim Reichal and that he went the kraut route after forsaking his beat roots like I'm sure a whole buncha similar-minded mop toppers did nationwide. What little I had heard did not impress, but Imants Krumins was big on 'em and that guy always had tastes that I sure loved to latch onto like the remora I most certainly am so why not cling onto the man's musical memories even in death!

After a number of spins and some deep contemplation usually reserved for revenge fantasies involving handcuffs and electric cattle prods, I've come to the conclusion that A.R. and Machines are in fact fairly good krautscapading. Nothing that I would say exactly thrills me in a 1972 Can/Amon Duul shining beacon to the rest of the world in their Germanic prowess sorta way, but fine enough for those who still thought that the wa-wah was the best thing that happened to the guitar, and in 1972 as well. Reichel obviously hadn't forsaken his pop roots when this spinner was made, and that in fact keeps this from developing into another progressive snootfest with all of those "hey look, a Stravinsky cop here and a Vaughn Williams swipe there!" moves that were even more pretentious than a whole lotta punk-into-punque leftovers were once 1985 rolled around.

Sure at times the electronics sound like a buncha kids goofing off with the stereo tonearm and the congas banging on and on can intrude on the electronic groove a bit. Even the opening track "Globus" comes way too close for comfort to the progressive blather that way too many wonks consider rock music. But hey, most of this is fair enough krauty pop that, while pale next to the bigger releases oozing high energy pulse and drive, might just sound neato next to what the seventies greats were doing in the eighties when none of us could give a toss what with all of those underground and sixties garage band releases to contend with.

Via youtube, here's a track, in fact the track, that got me interested in picking this up after years of ho-humness. If you study the description of the video carefully (after being taken to the page it originally appeared on, natch!) you will note two words that especially piqued my interest, and if I do say so those potent words do heavily figure into not only the particular sounds heard, but the entire backbone of the German rock zeitgeist that made the movement the Teutonic equivalent of Amerigan late-sixties/early-seventies garage punk explorations. Listen on and tell me you don't agree with my (once again) vital and pertinent opines regarding these musical genres that are seemingly long dead 'n buried! (Don't worry, although you will agree you never would admit it in a millyun years...I've come to expect that from you lofty and oh-so-pious knowitalls!)

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The "NYC" August Rock Band-BETTER DAYS CD-R (LosTraxx)

Sure had high hopes for this 'un. Y'see, August was one of those under-the-wire New York groups that played a whole lotta times at CBGB, the 82 Club and Max's during the '75/'77 seasons, and although they weren't as obscure an act as say, Master Radio Canaries or the Jesse Fields Band they at least had enough of a rep to earn themselves a few off-mentions in the pages of THE NEW YORK ROCKER about as often as the Planets or Just Water got 'em. After what little I had read of the group I was conjurin' up loads of images of some hot post-Ziggy-styled glam slam done up in a guttural/gutter-al New York fashion, but it turns out that August, for all of their underground credo and image, were little more than a standard post-Stones bar band with various "classic rock" moves that coulda made someone a mint in the eighties. At first listen I was furious, at second I thought August were a good enough straight ahead band even if they strayed far from anyone's idea of what a New York band was supposed to sound like. It's your choice, though I should warn you that the exorbitant price LosTraxx is offering for a half hour of music might dissuade you more than just "slightly."

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ANYHOO---in closing here are a few youtube clips that I thought you'd might want to see, the first being a rather interesting (esp. in these uninteresting times) trailer for an imaginary ARCHIE moom pitcher that shows the Riverdale kiddoes getting involved in various moderne-day teenage mishaps, sorta like an update on the old MAD standby "Starchie" taken into full-tilt overdrive. Surprisingly enough I kinda liked it, even if I thought Big Ethel was actually attractive here 'stead of the dog she used to be in the comics...howevah, the guy who played Jughead looked real enough for my own personal tastes and really deserves some sorta special award for his rather mixed up, cringe-inducing portrayal of Archie's long-time best friend. This actually won some Canuckian internet award which, if anything, goes to show ya that the spirit of SCTV lives on somewhere, somewhat "up there."

 

Of course if this is too "bad taste" for ya maybe this pilot for an ARCHIE television series will do you right. Dunno if the '64 date given is accurate unless William Schallert was thinking of doing a quick exit from THE PATTY DUKE SHOW, but it's still a nice li'l slice of what might have been (and perhaps what thankfully wasn't since this particular Archie is so...un-Archie-like!) had somebody decided to take the bait and get this idea into production. Perhaps it's too DOBIE GILLIS all over, but where do you think Max Shulman got the idea for that 'un inna first place?!?!?

Sure some of the casting seems strange enough (Schallert is nothing like the plump 'n bald comic Mr. Andrews) but getting Wilma Flintstone herself Jean Vanderpyl as Archie's mom was a snat move if you ask me. And hey, that's none other than Ralph Monroe, Mary Grace Canfield, as Miss Grundy so if I were you I'd just settle back and enjoy it because hey, if she could get a role in this 'un you know it's gonna be a boss half-hour of sitcom jollies 'n not just another excuse to present half-assed humor and pseudophilosophical goo as quality entertainment. And as you know we've had enough of that these last umpteen years!

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Gotta go...boy was that a struggle to type out! I guess my budding Alzheimer's is starting to get the best of me, but hopefully I'll be recovered enough to present for you something a li'l less analesque (and perhaps more cognitive) next weekend. Until then, as they say in Holland don't take any wooden shoes!

MOOM PITCHER DOUBLE HEADER!!! THOR, KING OF THE JUNGLE (1913) and TARZAN OF THE APES (1918)!!!!!


Here's a silent moom double feature for all of you jungle bums out there presented to us courtesy of Grapevine Video (see link on left) or in my case Bill Shute, a man who knows what'll make me sit in front of the boob tube to watch a film. And dollars to dillweeds it sure ain't THE LADY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO or any of those flickers that used to make Roger Ebert skid shorts even at a time when he had considerable control of his nether regions!

The first flick's a 1913 effort only a half-hour in length about this gal living in Africa with her explorer father who seems to like the flora and fauna, if not the fact that she's millions of miles away from any sorta sensible feminine hygiene. Anyway, the gal comes across a buncha guys from the Barlum (no sic) Circus on the hunt for Thor, the legendary Lord of the Jungle lion! Soon both Thor and the gal (named "Gene"...well at least it wasn't Ralph Monroe!) are in Ameriga with the circus, and as you can guess both are really homesick for the old country! When the head of the circus has eyes for Gene and tries to take advantage of her, it's up to Thor to save the day and he does so in the most grisly way possible!

As for the original 1918 version of Tarzan with Elmo Lincoln in the lead role well, this film does figure into my own growing up years because in December of 1973 my father finally decided, after a whole lotta prodding, to put an antenna on the roof of our house 'stead of just stick a UHF corner reflector/bow-tie in the rafters of our garage because he didn't want to keep paying some repairman to fix the thing everytime a strong wind blew into town. At that time we only got one station in clear, one fuzzy yet watchable, and two so fuzzy that half the time they'd be blizzarded outta existence. Well, on that late-autumn cold and blustery Saturday around five or so in the afternoon we finally turned on the tee-vee to see what kind of reception we were now getting, and not only did we pick up the local stations crystal clear but distant ones I wasn't even familiar with at the time and as you can tell by now my life was forever changed.

Anyway to make a long story short that afternoon around five we just happened to be pulling in Cle PBS station WVIZ channel 25 well enough to get a fuzzy picture with sound, and since it was the top of the hour an ad for the movie that was to appear on the OLD MOVIES, THE GOLDEN ERA  program that evening was being aired. Turns out that moom was none other than what else but the original 1918 version of TARZAN OF THE APES, and naturally old thing-loving me waited the rest of the day with baited breath to see this film considering how I harbored an interest in things like old films even at a time long before I discovered that a good portion of the guys who were into old movies weren't exactly the kind you'd like to meet up with in a gang shower or trough urinal. But hey I was fourteen, and they weren't teaching stuff like this in sex education like they shoulda so what did I know!

Not-so-surprisingly enough, by the time it was ready to be aired wouldn't ya know it but the signal fizzed out for good! This came to be a frustrating experience for me, considering how sometimes I would be able to get channel 25 in clear enough to watch such movies as Lon Chaney's THE PENALTY and at least the first fifteen minutes of THE CAT AND THE CANARY, but most of the time the signal would be so faint that I could barely make out the futuristic flying machines in THINGS TO COME or the extreme closeups and grotesque medieval faces in THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC.

Almost forty years later wouldn't you know it, but I finally got to see TARZAN in its entirety (the take from FRACTURED FLICKERS does not count!) and gotta admit that it's a pretty good sit-through even for a doof like myself who grew up watching the Johnny Weismuller version on Sunday afternoon tee-vee. Elmo Lincoln may look ridiculous as the Ape Man with that fright wig and barrel chested physique, but he does come off convincingly primitive enough. I guess the story comes close enough to the original (or at least what I could get from the graphic novel that came out around the time this was being aired), and I for one felt that the effort was rather noble considering just how many liberties Hollywood takes with the original mangling it in their own sickoid image.

Yeah the humans in ape suits do detract a bit, but at least they stick some real ones in among 'em just to give it a li'l air of respectability if not an air of unbreathableness! And not only that, but you homo readers'll really get a kick (as well as something else!) outta the scene where a young Tarzan (played pretty expressively by Gordon Griffith) runs around buck nekkid and you get to see a whole lotta his tanned rear end! There's something in TARZAN OF THE APES for everybody no matter how decayed they are in the grey matter area, and watching something like this does remind me of the days when your local PBS station wasn't just another outlet for educational kiddie shows and boring theatre, but aired honest to goodness fun films and surprises like this and nobody seemed to complain! Of course hardly anybody was watching, but that mere fact made it something special for turdburgers like us ifyaknowaddamean...

"BLOBS LIKE US, BABY WE WERE BORN TO EAT!"

Doc said I should go on a diet, and diet I did. In fact I've lost about thirty pounds already even if for me losing thirty pounds is akin to Coraopolis PA losing thirty Italians, but trudge on I do on the fruit 'n yogurt diet where three days during the week I eat nothing but that 'n only that and the other three just watch my reg'lar intake. TRANSLATION: three days a week I feel like the Skipper longing for a "nice, juicy steak" and the other four I eat rather sparingly because my stomach has shrunk to the point where even a bowl of cereal for breakfast'll keep it swelled until it's time for my evening repast of soup broth and crackers.

Needless to say nighttime dreams have been overcome with those of food instead of the usual murder/revenge ones that usually permeate my subconscious. Sometimes I will have a dream where I'm privy to some of the tastiest fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, only to wake up to find a giant pool of slobber all over my pillow. Gives a totally new meaning to the term "wet dream." Surprisingly enough most of the time I wake up without any pangs of hunger in my guts, although a good hour or two later I sure wouldn't mind downing a bag of White Castle burgers in order to fill the crater that used to be known as my stomach.

In honor of those days where I don't have to follow a strict dietary regimen comes this article featuring just a few of the tasty tidbits that I have been eating and, in some cases, enjoying. Of course indulging in too much of these platters can not only put a dent into my diet but my pocketbook, so please keep in mind that it's not like I'm eating the following foodstuffs on a daily basis, or weekly for that matter. Believe-you-me, most of these foods are plainly an occasional pleasure that I partake of on special occasions, the next one undoubtedly being the beginning of planting season next week. So whenever you're in the mood to celebrate either St. Swithin's Day or Roky Erickson's birthday or Eric Shute's for that matter (they're all of the SAME DAY which makes for an excuse for one big celebration!) feel free to use today's post as a guide to gullet filling pleasure. Just don't tip off my doctor, savvy?

LONG JOHN SILVER'S FISH, CHICKEN AND ONION RINGS PLATTER-now, I usually don't go for the costlier items that pop up on a drive-through restaurant's menu, but I was sooooo hungry and sometimes my stomach can feel bigger than my pocketbook. Not only that, but the thought of batter-dipped onion rings did sound rather enticing, so throwing caution to the wind I went and ordered this kit 'n caboodle hoping for a nice lunchtime gulpdown. Well, all I can really say is, if you want a meal that'll stay with you for the rest of the day you can't do better'n this!

Maybe it was meant for TWO people to eat, but after the second piece of fish my gall bladder was beggin' for mercy in Roberto Duran "no mas" fashion. Not wanting to waste food I did gobble the whole thing up, though the grease factor did play havoc with my entire digestive tract to the point where not only did I decide to mow the yard after things settled down quite a bit (hoping the activity would help calm the gastronomical turmoil) but all I had for dinner was, besides about three large glasses of Sprite Zero to douse the flames, a tube of frozen yogurt ("Splashy Strawberry" flavor) and an ice cream bar! A meal to share with about three other friends, or maybe they can serve this to all of those starving kids you used to see on those old CARE commercials. At least it'll prove to 'em that there are more important things to life than food!

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McRIB-Don't usually eat at McDarnold's anymore since my funds are low and waist is massive, but I was kinda hungry one day and wasn't exactly looking forward to eating a brier patch. Drove through and, since the buy an extra Quarter Pounder special was on Monday and it was too late in the day to buy a Steak Burrito, I decided to get the McRib which has come back for yet another limited run at the home of the Golden Starches (as we used to say).

It's a very messy sandwich, so if you drive and eat like I do you'll get globs of the sweet bar-b-q sauce all over your snazzy jacket. Otherwise it's merely passable, kinda reminding me of those Army k-rations with the hunk of bbq pork that comes in the pouch. I kinda like that in my own way but as far as Army food goes my fave is the omelette, as long as they have some hot sauce to put on it and maybe some shredded White Cheddar to top it off with. I've been told that NOBODY but nobody likes the omelette which I guess means that I might have made the best soldier of all time given how I'm the only stroon in the toilet who goes for that calorie-laden food that was made sometime during the Taft administration! As for McRib, it might be a good sit at home meal along with an order of fries to balance it off and a cold soda to help douse the spicy aftertaste so you don't keep burping this up during your evening hours of relaxation, but it ain't like I'm gonna find out until they bring this samwitch back!

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ANDY CAPP HOT FRIES AND FUNYONS-And speaking of fries... For years Andy Capp has been known as a once-funny English import to the comic strip pages that, like most comics, is hardly worth reading these days. At least the loafer's legend lives on in a series of corn/potato-based snacks shaped like thin french fries coming in cheese, barbeque and hot flavors. I first knew about the latter way back in the seventies when a younger cousin of mine swore by 'em, and thirtysome years later I can see his point. Hot and spicy's the word, not enough to burn a hole through your esophagus but enough to induce small bumps of blackheads around your mouth. A good enough he-man snack that's not for the flitzy-litzy types who hold their cup and saucer with their pinkies sticking up.


If you can't find Hot Fries the old Funyons standby will do. Onion ring shaped corn/potato mixture with onion seasoning...a good idea and worth it even if you wanna pick up the cheap imitation they sell at Aldi's. When I was a child I thought the world of these and considering how new they were on the market they most definitely were a gourmet item for the pre-pubescent crowd. Today they're as much a part of the landscape as illegitimate children and can be enjoyed by not only the very rich but scuzzos like you! Heck, they're even good for things other than snacking...say you're out of real onions for your hamburger...well just sneak a few Funyons on and you won't know the difference. Outta breadcrumbs for your meatloaf? Just crush a few bags 'n mix it in...the kids won't know a thing! Crumble some up and stick it in your soup if you're out of crackers! Sheesh, I dunno who invented these, but if the guy just didn't get a Nobel Prize (or at least Betty Crocker Award) for this invention there must be no justice in this world!

SAD NOSTALGIC NOTE-I'm old enough to remember when BUGLES were introduced back inna mid-sixties, and at the time the "roast corn" come-on being used to hype these miniature STAR TREK interstellar space suck 'em ups was enough to get me pestering momsy to get 'em as soon as they hit the aisles. Unlike PIZZA WHEELS which was introduced at the same time, BUGLES has lasted well into the present and exists not only in its original form, but cheddar cheesed and barbequed and even coated in caramel if you so desire. I decided to buy some for purely nostalgic purposes and found 'em to be rather salty and oily making for a less 'n stellar eating experience. All I wanted to do after eating these was sit like a sick lump in front of the television and watch GILLIGAN'S ISLAND, and they don't even show that anywhere anymore!

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YUMMY POTATO LATKES!-I've made these many a time thanks to the miracle of Maneshevitz, but Jewamongyou's blog (see link on left) had a post on cooking 'em from scratch a few months back and I naturally decided to give these potato pancakes a try in a money-saving move! The guy who does that blog didn't have a set recipe for it and recommended that we try our own variations, so here goes...first, peel and shred about three or four medium potatoes or two biggies or a whole buncha pee wee ones...whatever you have available. Then get a medium-sized onion and stick it in one of those mincing machines until it's all chopped into small pieces.  Then break about four or so eggs and beat 'em up real good in a bowl, then add a heaping teaspoon of either all purpose flower and some backing powder, or bisquick if you got it, as well as yet another heaping teaspoon of matzo meal. Mix well, add the potatoes and onion, some salt and pepper, and then mix it all until it's evenly gooey. Now, drop some of it into a hot frying pan with oil (I used olive oil and some margarine) and fry until nice 'n brown on both sides. I used a non-stick pan to avoid the usual gaffes. Makes about ten small cakes or five big ones if you're stuffing your face. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! Important note---if you do decide to make some bigguns it'd be best to microwave 'em for about a minute before gobbling down because sometimes the innards aren't quite as cooked as they should be. Got stuck with one that was kinda raw inside yesterday and well, you wouldn't want that to happen to you now, wouldja.

Sour cream goes with 'em swell-like, and although applesauce is recommended even in conjunction with the sour cream I decided not to use any. Y'see, applesauce reminds me of my school cafeteria days (yech!), and  if there's anything that I hate its having those memories of degradation and getting it from everybody from fellow students to teachers without fair and due process, and do I mean it! That's why I even avoid using blue ballpoint pens these days...the memories are just too painful!

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Jimi whips out more'n his python!

CAP'N CRUNCH-Sometimes you're whole hog for something then you "outgrow" it, only to come back to the thing as an aging fanabla because it reminds you of your lost youth (see BUGLES comments above). CAP'N CRUNCH is yet personal slip back into the funziness of kid days gone by that I try to recapture (at least the good parts) even though too much water ran under the bridge back in the good old days or something like that. Heck, I remember the first time I had the stuff...it was on the exact same day that the Beatles first appeared on THE ED SULLIVAN SHOW and my family happened to get hold of some free samples (about the same size as a Kellogg's Snack Pack box) which were actually consumed as a dessert after we downed our traditional Sunday night fried weenies and baked beans! Of course that did not prepare any of us for the Fab Four's appearance later that evening, but the memories of eating CAP'N CRUNCH and my dad yelling at the tee-vee in over-the-top anger are firmly etched in my mind.

The sweet, corny taste really sent me, as did the fact that the commercials were made by the Jay Ward people meaning they were more or less condensed versions of the same ROCKY AND HIS FRIENDS humor that's been on the tube perennially ever since the late-fifties. I wonder if my abandonment of the cereal has to do with the post-Ward revamping of the television commercials, but by the time I was sixteen it wasn't like I particularly was paying attention to such details and besides, even with Crunch Berries it wasn't like I was that big of a fan of the cereal or even breakfast anymore.

But considering that a box of the stuff had somehow entered our abode as of late I naturally had a bowl, and the taste was so happy memories good that I have another and another until we were all out and in no way would I touch the Honey Bunches of Oats! I mean, it was so good in the way that whenever I eat the stuff I reminisce about them days of yore running around in my stocking feet yellin' at my sister while some cartoon would be blarin' onna tee-vee and all I ever cared about were my toy dinosaurs and Matchbox cars. I know, I do live the exact same existence lo these many years later (with rock fanzines and records replacing the aforementioned) but eating CAP'N CRUNCH makes it all the more relevant. Local varieties at budget prices will also do.

And hey, if anyone out there ever had any CAP'N CRUNCH SHIP SHAKE (which used to go by a slightly different name amidst the third graders in my school) can ya tell me what it was supposed to be anyway???

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TOOTSIE POP DROPS!-I vividly remember when I first head about these wonders during the summer of 1971 when, during some prime time ABC program, a guy dressed up like Unca Sam (this being during the Silent Majority patronize the rubes with patriotic push days) was peddling this unique idea of miniaturized Tootsie Pops without the sticks! And just like Sam said, I actually rushed down to the corner shop to see if they had any, that's how hot I was on a treat that I thought would replace Life Savers as the food to carry in my snot ragged pockets!

They didn't have 'em that night, but soon Tootsie Pop Drops were the biggest thing to hit candydom since Pixie Sticks. And they're still around and proliferating candy counters from here to Fredonia and back which of course makes me a happy little hypoglycemic. Unfortunately there's no more Lemon inna bunch, but they still have chocolate, cherry, grape, orange and now "blue raspberry" which tastes like your fifth grade science project but I ain't complainin'. I only eat 'em first and save the other (better) ones for later. And fortunately for us the taste remains the same, and one suck'll bring back those fond memories of when you were a kid'n you got a freebee Tootsie Pop at the shoe store 'stead of the uninspiring Dum Dums they still push on you at banks and life insurance waiting rooms. One of the few things we have left that connects us to our prepubescent pimplefarm blob days, so don't forsake it!

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HOTCHA DELICIOUS TREAT TO GET YOU THROUGH THEM COLD WINTER MONTHS (OR HOT WINTER MONTHS IF YOU SO DESIRE)!-I'm not whatcha'd call a drinker of hot beverages considering how they always burn my esophagus when I gulp 'em down fast (and hey, when I drink something I do it because I'm thirsty, not to warm the cockles of my heart!), but here's a hot drink that not only keeps me warm these chilly days but actually tastes pretty good too. You've probably noticed how the grocery stores have been selling apple cider (which unfortunately has been pasteurized...if you can find some of the kind that has the propensity to turn hard then you're in luck!) not only during the autumn months but year 'round...well, get some, pour it into a microwave-safe bowl (hopefully one with a handle), sprinkle a little cinnamon in it and zap the thing until it's as hot as you want it. If you have a sweet tooth like me, stir in a little sugar or saccharine (or any other artificial sweetener as long as its the kind that doesn't lose its potency when heated up). Then pour into a mug and sip away! Keeps you warm and really satisfies your tastebuds to boot. Not only that but if you drink enough of it your bowel movements are gonna be nice and carefree, the kind that have you struttin' outta the bathroom feeling as if you're walkin' on a cloud! So for once there is something out there that's good for you which also tastes good, and if I didn't know better I'd say it was all an insidious plot to lure us all into better living. To which I say...well, OK this time!

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! THE YIN AND YANG OF MR. GO (1970), directed by Burgess Meredith?!?!?

Kinda strange to see none other'n respected actor Burgess Meredith not only directing, but acting in as well as writing the screenplay for this weirdo spy flick that comes off like some fevered mutation between an NBC "Mystery Movie" and one of those hip "now" films that came off so laughable only a few years later. I mean, this 'un'll certainly get the snobboids snickering into their Neil Gabler FILMS THAT MADE A TOTAL ASSHOLE OUT OF ME collections but hey, I got a whole lot more enjoyment outta it'n I ever got from THE FRANK CAPRA COLLECTION OF TOTAL CORN PASSED OFF AS LIBERAL-ASSUAGING MESSAGE CINEMA and thank heavens fer that!

James Mason (one of many old Hollywood actors trying to make their way through new Hollywood in this film) plays the lead, an ultra-evil half-Chinese/half-Mexican underworld figure on a mission to get hold of the blueprints for an early version of what later would be known as the "Star Wars Missile Defense System" a good ten or so years later. Jeff Bridges (in his first role) plays this draft dodger hanging out in Hong Kong with hotcha gal Irene Tsu who gets to play something a little looser'n the usual cookie cutter roles she had been getting. Also present are Broderick Crawford as the head of the CIA and Peter Lind Hayes as an Amerigan agent who, although expressly stating "I am not a faggot!," gets blackmailed by Go when he was secretly filmed getting some rough 'n tumble humiliation via Bridges, who got a hefty bundle of money for his part in the deal even if he hadda act like a total turd in the process.

Kinda messy true (and I ain't even talking about what Lind Hayes experienced!), and it all gets even more confusing when a CIA agent by the name of Zimmerman enters into the picture and Go takes Bridges for a last ride in a helicopter berfore...all of a sudden...the jewel in the Buddha (as explained in the prologue) alights and Go himself does a 180 becoming the exact opposite of his former dastardly self! I told you this was a jumble, and it gets even more so as the moom progresses and twists and turns more'n a lower intestinal tract making this about as hard to follow as my fifth grade history report on the boxer shorts rebellion!

But still it's a fun one to watch if only for the entertainment value which includes the cheezoid 1970 youth music (it sure ain't rock 'n roll), the Hong Kong nightlife scenery and best of all a few glimpses of Tsu's own suckems, the first time in a quick dressing scene and later on when some dyke attempts to get some nookie off our bound up heroine before Bridges makes his Errol Flynn entrance at the nick of time. Nice to see a respected actress such as her give us a little more exposure to her hidden talents, if you know what I mean.