MAGAZINE REVIEW! UGLY THINGS #37!
Now that UNDERWEAR SKIDMARKS ILLUSTRATED has ceased publication, the only magazine that I wait with baited breath to read these days is UGLY THINGS! Yes it really is a momentous occasion here at BLOG TO COMM central when the latest issue of this magazine hits the racks (or in my case the mailbox), because really, in these rockism-starved days is anyone out there tooting the horn of the Big Beat the way that Mike Stax and his cronies have for a way longer time'n any of us can imagine? I mean, who else here in the 'teens really even cares that such a thing as rock 'n roll (as that noisy suburban slob soundtrack for our mere existences) is still out 'n about and no, your claims of Anastasia Pantsios to the contrary will not be recognized you sarcastic little twats you!
Needless to say this is yet another tip-top issue (#37, which should be a record for boffo rockmag longevity) and even if I ended the review right here and now you'd know enough to get a fresh copy, right? But I won't, because not only is there a load of pertinent information emanating from these pages that I feel compelled to comment on (anal retentive y'know), but there's a whole lotta space I gotta fill and better it be about UGLY THINGS than my latest nasal hemorrhage, even if I'd probably make the latter sound even more adventurous than a typical episode of MUTUAL OF OMAHA'S WILD KINGDOM.
Again considering the thickness of this effort it would be impossible for me to comment on everything about this wondrous issue that I would like to, so I'll just do the usual skimeroo and give you the cream of the crud highlights. Such as the crazeoid Phil May interview conducted by UT cheezewhiz Stax which really reveals a whole slew of heretofore unknown historical background regarding the longtime Pretty Things singer which make your own teenage problems look like FATHER KNOWS BREASTS (that's an old comedy routine I will do on request) outtakes. The piece on Carl "Kung Fu Fighting" Douglas was a hoot as were all of those complete histories of various punk rock bands of the seventies that never did make their way outta the local garage intact (Hitmakers, the Gears). The Rainy Daze "Acapulco Gold" saga complete with sidesteps into Dave Diamond and the Higher Elevation as well as the Monocles was also fab for us early-eighties Moxie/BFD aficionados who thought as highly of those obscure garage bands as we did Pere Ubu, while even the interviews with Ian McLagen and Steve Marriott were OK even if I still associate them with late-seventies ROLLING STONE-styled rockcrit filler. But I do get that way sometimes...
Of course my favorite items tend to be the reviews because after reading 'em I know the proper way to part with my moolah. Ain't gonna be parting with much of it because frankly, there ain't that much really eyeball grabbing enough to tear me away from my hard-begged, but it still in grand reading about what is coming out these days just in case I do wanna spend some cash. And yeah, all of your favorite UGLY THINGS regulars are up and front writing about these slabs, though (unfortunately) Jymn Parrett only clocks in with one review, this being of the Fleetwood Mac THEN PLAY ON album. Sheesh you'd think there'd be some Iggy Pop reissue out and about for him to peck on about!
And not only that, but there's even a nice recap/reappraisal on the infamous CAN'T BUY A THRILL fanzine which is even as good as this one in my own humble opinion. The interview with PUNK mag's John Holmstrom was pretty boffo as well. I hope that the mag continues locating old time fanzine and other writers to dig up their histories for all eternity because hey, I can't do it all myself and frankly, I DON'T WANT TO!!!Now that UNDERWEAR SKIDMARKS ILLUSTRATED has ceased publication, the only magazine that I wait with baited breath to read these days is UGLY THINGS! Yes it really is a momentous occasion here at BLOG TO COMM central when the latest issue of this magazine hits the racks (or in my case the mailbox), because really, in these rockism-starved days is anyone out there tooting the horn of the Big Beat the way that Mike Stax and his cronies have for a way longer time'n any of us can imagine? I mean, who else here in the 'teens really even cares that such a thing as rock 'n roll (as that noisy suburban slob soundtrack for our mere existences) is still out 'n about and no, your claims of Anastasia Pantsios to the contrary will not be recognized you sarcastic little twats you!
Needless to say this is yet another tip-top issue (#37, which should be a record for boffo rockmag longevity) and even if I ended the review right here and now you'd know enough to get a fresh copy, right? But I won't, because not only is there a load of pertinent information emanating from these pages that I feel compelled to comment on (anal retentive y'know), but there's a whole lotta space I gotta fill and better it be about UGLY THINGS than my latest nasal hemorrhage, even if I'd probably make the latter sound even more adventurous than a typical episode of MUTUAL OF OMAHA'S WILD KINGDOM.
Again considering the thickness of this effort it would be impossible for me to comment on everything about this wondrous issue that I would like to, so I'll just do the usual skimeroo and give you the cream of the crud highlights. Such as the crazeoid Phil May interview conducted by UT cheezewhiz Stax which really reveals a whole slew of heretofore unknown historical background regarding the longtime Pretty Things singer which make your own teenage problems look like FATHER KNOWS BREASTS (that's an old comedy routine I will do on request) outtakes. The piece on Carl "Kung Fu Fighting" Douglas was a hoot as were all of those complete histories of various punk rock bands of the seventies that never did make their way outta the local garage intact (Hitmakers, the Gears). The Rainy Daze "Acapulco Gold" saga complete with sidesteps into Dave Diamond and the Higher Elevation as well as the Monocles was also fab for us early-eighties Moxie/BFD aficionados who thought as highly of those obscure garage bands as we did Pere Ubu, while even the interviews with Ian McLagen and Steve Marriott were OK even if I still associate them with late-seventies ROLLING STONE-styled rockcrit filler. But I do get that way sometimes...
Of course my favorite items tend to be the reviews because after reading 'em I know the proper way to part with my moolah. Ain't gonna be parting with much of it because frankly, there ain't that much really eyeball grabbing enough to tear me away from my hard-begged, but it still in grand reading about what is coming out these days just in case I do wanna spend some cash. And yeah, all of your favorite UGLY THINGS regulars are up and front writing about these slabs, though (unfortunately) Jymn Parrett only clocks in with one review, this being of the Fleetwood Mac THEN PLAY ON album. Sheesh you'd think there'd be some Iggy Pop reissue out and about for him to peck on about!
As for my my favorite part of this ish, it's just gotta be the third installment of eternal Flamin' Groovie Cyril Jordan's memoirs of his rock 'n roll upbringing, this time concentrating on San Francisco in that tragic year of 1967 when rock 'n roll started to take quite a few dreaded turns for the worse! But that's not bothering Cyril as he blabs on about all of the groups he saw and all of the fun he was having to the point where he was taking so much acid that even SGT. PEPPER sounded like a momentous album to him! You can tell that Cyril was in a good mood when he wrote this because he talks about the time the Groovies got to open for Cream, and he doesn't even go on a tangent about the way Jerry Garcia eventually treated him with a giant snub after cozying up to him backstage at the Fillmore! (For more information, find that issue of CREAM PUFF WAR with the entire rage-filled rant that Jordan directed at the digit-less one.)
So what do you say pod'ner...is your next ten smackers gonna go toward this or the next issue of Dave Mush's hippydippy white guilt newsletter? Of course, knowing some of you trolls out there this might be a question I dare not ask!
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