***BLOG TO COMM HERO OF THE YEAR---ELLIOT RODGER!!! No need to wait until December 31st to announce this 'un, and yeah I know what you're thinking, like wotta loser richkid spoiled brat who couldn't get any action even though his father was a hotshot Hollyweird director with all of the socially gosharoonie benefits that go along with that! 'n yup, I know that Rodger was a guy who had to get his thrills stabbing and shooting and running over people in his BMW while making even more rambling than a BLOG TO COMM post bizzaroid threats for all the world to see posthumously, but REALLY, how can alla you outer'n the outkid types in yer schooldayze not empathize with a guy who was so pent up with that infamous teenbo disease testicallus bleuballus to the point where he went out and done just what the rest of you sure woulda liked to have done during your young 'n tender years! I can see it in your eyes (and your correspondence) and your general attitudes towards the so-called "weaker" (hah!) sex...you too would've wanted to brutally off all 'em blonde sluts in typing class who wouldn't give you the mouth organ treatment even when they were blitzed outta their minds at those high school get together they used to call parties! And frankly, I can empathize with you because hey, it's always been a rough goin' for us front 'n center rockists out there who always seemed to have an incurable BO of the spiritual kind, and I only hope that the actions of Rodger spurs you readers on to even greater heights of give 'em hell mayhem!
Hey, them modern day wymyn types (the kind that shut Rodger, and probably YOU, down) really do deserve all the bloody justice they deserve what with the way they ruined male/femme relationships for what seems like good with their feminist-approved sluttiness! And besides, it's sure fun watching the usual watchdog types use these tragedies to pump up their favorite causes whether it be regarding the kultur's inherent misogyny or gun control or even the fact that Rodger is the resultant spew of miscegenation even if he does look more like your typical Eastern European Slav type the kind you see working at the local pirogy palace! Whatever, here's to you Mr. Rodger, and I'd have a plaque for you to pick up but why bother, because how in heaven's name are you gonna be able to pick it up?
***AND WHILE I'M AT IT---r.i.p. Maya Angelou, who proved that all you hadda do to get your dull and lifeless poetry noticed was change your name to somethin' foreign sounding and the snob types who read THE NEW YORKER'll beat a path to your door faster'n you can say "We shall overcome!" Still marveling at her deeply moving Clinton inauguration poem "River, Rock, Tree"...or was that "Paper, Rock, Scissors"??? Well, it wasn't anything like my all-time fave "Milk, Milk, Lemonade" that's for sure!
***Anyhow, here are the writeups for this weekend which I know you will adore not only because of the selection of engaging and emotion-packed produce I picked outta my garden of musical delights, but because some of these platters were not given to me gratis...meaning I actually PAID for them mothers and in a way boy am I glad I did it! Now, I sure do appreciate the burns that the likes of Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and Tom Gilmore have been floating my way, but when I actually send some of my hard-begged to either Forced Exposure Mailorder or an ebay dealer for some soon-to-be-rare piece of plastic I must say that I do have this potent pride burning in my system, like I accomplished something good with my money 'stead of spend it on unnecessary things like food or taxes. Anyway, the following items are what more or less have been tingling my inner workings as of this past week, and who knows, maybe they have been doing the same for you too!
Really, I didn't know what to expect from legendary underground filmmaker Kenneth Anger's new audio/visual product, but this one's surprisingly good especially for a disque recorded by someone who's old enough to be your (great) grandfather! Along with the talents of former Von Lmo collaborator Brian Butler, Anger has created a wild electronic music that merges old technology (the theremin) with the new (samplers) making for a sound that is as terrifying as it is inspiring with its sine wave sonatas interrupted by the crashing of mad drums, otherworldly shards of sheet metal storms and other ethereal vibrations that conjure everything from Pere Ubu's "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo" to METAL MACHINE MUSIC in its beautiful terror.
Listen for a bit of Jagger's DEMON BROTHER soundtrack at the start which naturally gets your ready for what's in store within these red-vinyled grooves. As far as any recent electronic music I've heard being made in the here and now goes, this one leaves the competition (even the stuff I LOVE!) far behind in its deep intensity and ability to conjure up various 20th Century accomplishments as a template for what I hope the next hundred years will bring to fruition music-wise (but I doubt it). A must-find, though hurry up because supplies are limited.
True the presence of Dana Gillespie, Thundermug and Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters might point to the fact that this sampler of early-seventies glam rockers ain't as obscuro as one might wish, but this album's worth of (mostly) European single sides sure does make for a fine sit-down listening experience in the GLITTERBEST tradition. And hey, the familiar acts do fit in swell with the various obscurities by the likes of Gumbo and Nils to the point where it all has the same effect on you that it would have on some dumpy high school chubboid of a gal who'd be listening to these numbers in between reading copies of ROCK SCENE and pricking bloody boils that have popped up on her thighs. If you've been reading about acts like Bearded Lady, Mabel and Heart (not the Wilson sisters!) online and wanted to know what they sounded like, do I need to tell you any more???
After reading the "punk rock" issue of ROCK NEWS once again I was spurred on to see if there were any recordings by the long forgotten French group Strike Up available for mass consumption. Haven't been able to find anything by that group yet but I was able to latch onto this spin-off which not only features Strike Up's guitarist Pierre Goddard but once and future Angel Face bassist Pascal Regoli and Herve Zenouda (he being ex-Strike Up, Angel Face and future Stinky Toys) on drums.
It's every bit as violent as you woulda guessed what with the manic FUN HOUSE-period Stooges pace and the hard-edged super-intense performance that reflects more of that down 'n drivin' French punk attitude than it does the comparatively restrained and copycat English vision. Think Skydog Records and you'll be on the right rue de excitement. Its archival digs like this that make me feel like I'm forty again!
A McGarry send that had me wond'rin'...why would the guy wanna even listen to an act with the name Natural Child inna first place? Judging from this choice undoubtedly Paul must've been spendin' a li'l too much time on Boone's Farm if you know what I mean. But really, these guys are good, sounding like top-notch late-sixties/early-seventies country rock done good (meaning more Gram Parsons and less Eagles) with maybe a tad bit of Kama Sutra-period Flamin' Groovies tossed in for good measure. Good choice of disques you got here Paul, though with a cover like that I was thinkin' this was gonna be another seventies-styled NEW ZOO REVUE knockoff!
Yeah it ain't as life-reaffirming as Ornette nor as psychotic as Ayler or as free splat as the early Art Ensemble of Chicago, but this live sesh (not to mention the additional studio tracks which were added on for whatever reason) does hold its own in a field of Coltrane platters that were comin' out at almost as fast a rate as those Miles Davis ones. Downright introspective at times, though lacking the fire that Coltrane would eventually unleash on his mid-sixties platters. If you're new to the man, hit ASCENSION first and save this for those well-honed moments.
I was gonna review this 'un along with a whole batch of recently reaped Cage-and-related platters that I happened to get via Forced Exposure. I was but hey, right now I am not inna mood to peck out any long-winded writeups based on a gaggle of similar-minded spinners if only for the fact that---well, it reminds me too much of "school" and this being the time of year when school lets out for the summer why exert myself? Besides, I already did a term paper on electronic music during my sophomoric days in high stool and you know just how much I'm still smarting over that 'un...y'know, the "Sien Ra" 'stead of "Sun Ra" goof up that was the resultof my sister transcribing my scribbles to type and I'll bet that stuff never happened to Nick Kent no matter how drug-induced his penmanship might have gotten during the throes of opiate addiction!
These are all-new renditions which really don't have the same aura those original recordings did, but if you don't have the Mainstream albums and can't get hold of Cathy Berberian wrapping her tonsils around "Fontana Mix with Aria" this effort will do. Some new to my ears tracks such as "Imaginary Landscape No. 5" show up, and this 'un even has the premier recording of the long-forgotten "WBAI" (named after the infamous Pacifica station in En Why See where Cage first realized what I always thought was a tape) which I know you'll wanna hear at least once. Vibrant enough to joggle those oft-dormant memories of a teendom where experimental free sound like this was considered a mighty appealing form of artzy expression, at least to this ADD-riddled specimen!
Haven't spun this 'un in an age or two, so it was plumb nice that Paul McGarry'd send me a burn of this late-eighties post-Birdman spinoff just to remind me of what all the hubbub was about a good thirtysome years ago. At its worst just anudder Doors ripoff the kind that's been heard from here to Montana and back, but at its best pretty catchy hard rock that sounds like it came straight off the table of a 1979 flea market stack o' platters, and for a mere quarter at that. Pick of the platter: elpee closer "Disperse" which actually takes elements of Rocket From The Tombs' "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo" and Roxy Music's "The Pride and the Pain" and makes 'em work without you wanting to puke your guts out.
This 'un was obviously recorded back when men still had balls, because frankly in today's harpie-run emasculated kultur who'd dare release an album like this? Savalas and his masculine crooning's actually a refreshing change from the usual pop slop even with the occasional dated disco drek because hey, has there been any proud 'n upfront celebration of the male gender complete with some nifty e-z listening schmoozers made these past three or so decades??? True the guy ain't no Tony Rolletti and he shoulda taken a few more lessons before hitting the recording studio, but gosh if I didn't get that same fifties fun and jamz feeling from listening to "The Men in my Little Girl's Life" which really does evoke a time and place that's never gonna come back no matter how much Hai Karate you splash on yourself. A nice reminder of the good ol' male/female relationship before those Andrea Dworkin types began telling us "up" is "down" and most of us guys have been "down" ever since, if you know what I mean...
Unlike most if not all of Bill's previous collections, this one at least attempts a thematic form, this 'un being late-sixties psychedelic pop of both an Amerigan and English bent. These tracks are best exemplified by the inclusions of worthy if definitely non-Norton approved numbers by the likes of Masters of Stonehenge, the Fruit Machine and PERFUMED GARDEN faves Mandrake Paddle Streamer. (I have a particular hankerin' for Felius Andromeda's "Cheaple Heath Delusions".) But when you're getting settled into the multicolored lava lamp sounds therein all of a sudden Bill switches gears on ya and tosses in interesting soul s tirrers like the Percells' "Hully Gully Guitar" or Roscoe Weathers' "Penny Whistle Montuna". A typically good in the Shute tradition selection of long-ignored rarities, even if it made me wanna don one of those kerchiefs like Fred used to wear on the Scooby Doo show.