It hasn't been that long since my last biggie post, but there's a whole lot to get to and I better get to it even though for all intent purposes you did read it here last.
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The Sharon/Hermitage area, after years of woeful neglect and perhaps downright scorn, has finally been PUT ON THE MAP! Of course it hadda be due to some 14-year-old kid who thought he was a she which was the start of the entire problem that was the catalyst for and ultimately hastened the youth's death and rather grisly dismemberment, but we sure made the front page this time and boy am I civic pride wave-the-flag proud! The not quite boy and not quite girl's name was Pauly Likens (wonder if this creature was related to the equally doomed Sylvia?) who met his fate dur to a pickup via GRINDR, but still us locals should be thankful because, for the first time since the big tornado of 1985, we got ourselves some nation-wide coverage if it hadda be in such a disturbing manner.
Judging from the front page of the local fishwrap THE HERALD and undoubtedly every other big name news outlet on the planet, this incident of gay lust gone awry isn't just ANY tale of reaping what you sowed but a horrible earth-shaking occurrence that's on par with all of those other earth-shattering occurrences that have been tossed in our faces these past few decades. Garment rending beyond belief if you listen to some of the more emotional types out there, or at least garment rending enough until the NEXT garment rending incident pops up but ya GOTTA have some incident to get your sense of virtuousness up and runnin' now, eh?
Sounder minds know that the entire shebang was nothing but yet another sordid tale of some unrestrained kid who was way more mixed up than any of the nutzo kids I grew up with. Only this one met up with the exact kind of guy kids like me used to be warned about but now eh, the more enlightened amongst us will only tell their offspring that the creepy pervert in the shack we all used to hear about way back when is now just a complete human being, someone just like the rest of us only with a different lifestyle we must honor and respect just as much as if the man just happened to be a chaste and moral churchgoer. Thinking about him in any other way is pure heresy even if this person has more (what we used to call) "perversions" than even the Marquis De Sade could have conjured up while diddling his wanker away in the Bastille.
The relatives will undoubtedly disagree, but no matter how you slice it (I know, a bad pun) Pauly was a huge hunkerin' ball of adolescent instability who, instead of properly being helped out like he should have was encouraged to be just the type of kid who would end up having to look forward to a future of soiled bedsheets. A boy who was sold a bill of goods by his elders that he could be anything he wanted and free to do whatever was in his heart (instead of mind), so he hooked up with some rougher than usual trade and met more'n just his "match". An amoral youth at that with parents who, judging from their various tee-vee appearances, were undoubtedly your typical lower-class "jeeter" types (probably not wed) who I'll bet my bottom peso had little or no strong moral bond with their offspring letting him do anything his crazy mixed up heart desired without fear of punishment. But had it been otherwise well...that would have been oh-so "Dark Ages" or something along those whacked out archaic lines and as real history has told those ages weren't so "dark" after all but stick to a good slur you must.
Obviously this gift of youthful freedom bestowed on him included leaving Pauly off on his lonesome for a few days to engage in some extremely risky middle of the night sexual behavior that not surprisingly led to his quite dismal end. Sure makes me wish those lowlifes posing as relatives would get hauled off to court and be severely punished for their own form of child abuse even if you know they never will because of, well...things. That's the real tragedy of this saga and something which, in retrospect, makes me more'n glad that my folks would wail the tarnation outta me even for the slightest of infractions! Sheesh, if I had parents like Pauly who knows, I might have ended up even screwier than him (or than the way I eventually turned out --- and as usual you will be the judge!).
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If Jack Armstrong were alive he'd roll over in his grave and die! |
As expected, the political vultures have already swirled 'round just itching to take advantage of this admittedly tragic situation. Pauly's corpse ain't even cold yet and none other than PA guv Josh Shapiro is using the murder as an opportunity to get even stronger hate (thought?) crime laws passed even though this particular incident was (once again) a strictly homosexual matter with no normal people involved whatsoever. Y'know, just like the Matthew Shepard bruhaha which was revealed to be a gay-on-gay murder only a few years after that incidence was milked by the lavender mafia and their lackeys for all it was worth, but lie we must for our cause is just I guess. Good idea you have there Josh, but aren't you afraid that after the new law's passed maybe YOU'LL eventually be arrested?
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Other'n the likes of Pauly, the RIP list just goes on and on. 'specially hearty farewell to noted Cleveland record shop magnate Johnny Dromette ne. Thompson, a guy who I hold in high regard because he actually would sell me records by mail even though the official Drome mail order biz was more or less stalled and for all I know never even got off the ground. That's niceness above and beyond, and for a grifting type of guy such as myself who wants everyone to be nice and give me free stuff and do favors and all boy, did I appreciate all of his going out of the way-ness. Let's just say that Dromette's acts of kindness were well appreciated especially considering how all the records I wanted were way beyond my grasp. We even talked once or twice while I was shopping with whatever pittance I had (and well, some of those prices were sky high especially for a peon such as myself) which only goes to show you that there are nice people out there who would even treat a total pissed upon lower 'n low doof like me with some shard of respect!
Should we care whether or not Shelley Duvall has passed? Or was it Didi Conn? I always got those twigs mixed up.
Maybe I should also mention Francoise Hardy even if it is only to pad this post out just a tad I never even heard of her until I read that BOMP! piece about her that appeared in their final issue and hey, I don't even think I heard a note of her music for that matter. But she was good looking so why shouldn't I give her some space if only for that?
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Although I shouldn't admit so I gotta 'fess up to the fact that it is fun watching the usual Mount Olympus types (y'know, the superior ones who act in movies I haven't seen since my teenbo days and go on television shows I haven't watched in years to tell their audiences how to think) either covering for Prez Joe Biden after his series of quite earth-shattering gaffes or beg him to step down and have a somewhat more coherent (Gavin Newsom?) politician run in his place. Only goes to show you that, no matter how hard you try, you just can't build castles on tapioca even if for all intent purposes the man was never running the show. But yeah, he does make for a somewhat cute/stupid figurehead who was always worthy of a pretty good laugh. I mean sheesh, he makes Gerald Ford look like one of our best presidents and that's an accomplishment in itself! And Biden is relatively harmless in his decimated state...no need to fear him pressing the button because he's way too weak to do it!
Not that I am not somewhat wary of Donald Trump wigglin' his way back into his old job given that, no matter how hard he tried to convince us that he was a true right wing populist, perhaps even an Amerigan Le Pen or Orban for that matter, he's more likely the "Cheeto Bush" that some wags out there have labeled him. A guy posing as the anti-swamp maverick (even though he sure loaded his cabinet with some of the swampier people Washington could churn out) with a whole load of campaign promises that I don't think he had any intention of keeping in the first place. At least I get the impression that if he nominated any Supreme Court justices at least said prospective justice will be able to define what a woman is whether or not he's fluent in the subject at hand, but who knows. At least I heard that Justice Johnson is a pleasant and friendly person and heck, she has voted "my" way at least once or twice which only goes to show ya somethin', only what it is I really don't know.
My own presidential preference at this time would point towards Candace Owens. The woman has been on quite a roll as of late bravely going against a whole load of tides that would have washed more'n just a few political pundits away, and when the usual suspects have to go way out into using their usual trajectories to twisto change what she actually said into what these types WANT us to think she said you know that the lass is quite effective. Best of all is the plain fact that her offensiveness to the long entrenched political rule makers really tends to get under their skin because like, she is of African heritage and women of such a background are supposed to act like Angela Davis, Flo Kennedy and fat lady on THE VIEW who has hair that looks like fish turds.
It's too late for 2024 but four years later I wouldn't mind seeing Miss Owens taking the big step into the political arena even if you know the anti-woman and downright "racist" slurs are gonna be thrown around even more'n the chimps flinging their number two down at the zoo. Maybe she and Norman Finkelstein could run on a "get together" kind of ticket...would be worth voting for if you ask me (and why not, it's my blog!).
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EPISODES OF GILLIGAN'S ISLAND I'D LIKE TO SEE!
Ginger's old porno loops wash ashore.
The castaways' hopes are bolstered when they hear on the radio that the authorities are searching for the Professor after it is discovered that he did preliminary research for Josef Mengele during World War II.
Thurston Howell III loses his fortune after having heavily invested in a company that made shoe polish that glows in the dark and no-cal pizza.
Panic ensues when the rare plant the castaways use to make toilet paper dies in a drought.
After discovering a strange talisman, Gilligan dreams that he is Aleister Crowley.
A Japanese sailor who doesn't know that World War II is over forces the castaways to watch an entire run of Yoji Kuri animation.
The fix is in when Mrs. Howell wins the "Miss Nude Island" contest.
Gilligan trips over and accidently disconnects the primitive life support machine that the Skipper is connected to (after falling into a coma when accidentally bashed on the head with a sledgehammer by Gilligan) as hostile natives go on a rampage.
Marcel Marceau lands on the island, but since he can't speak he's unable to tell anyone where they are and nobody can understand his miming.
Mary Ann's longing for her farm days leads the castaways to go on the search for an amorous wild boar.
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REAL NAMES OF YOUR FAVORITE ROCKSCIBES AND FANDOM PERSONALITIES REVEALED!
Arno Pluckett (Bill Shute), Ferd Berfel (Wade Oberlin), Hugo Tobias III (Dave Lang), Guido Fatchamatta (Robert Christgau), Gustav Kovich (Chuck Eddy), Parley Magruder (Scott Soriano), Gladys Ogilvie (Anastasia Pantsios), Funtime Freddy O'Hara (Dave Marsh), Percival Throgmorton (Brad Kohler), Yanko Kosanovic (Jay Hinman), Vincent Struzynski (Bruce Mowat), Delia Schreckengost (Amy Gelman), Julio Rendigay (Patrick Amory), The Fabulous Moolah (Ann Powers), Tom "The Cat" McAllen (Tim Stegall), Banjeet Patel (J. Neo Marvin), Gdzft Zyekxpwg (Chris Stigliano). Don't you wish more people would rip off old R. Meltzer writing gags like I do?
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Eh, not as nice a batch as I woulda liked, but a batch it is and as usual these freebee donations (in this case everything written about below) were sent by Robert Forward and Paul McGarry who are two guys who do know better.
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Like a good portion of these Cee-Dee compilations that have appeared over the past twentysome years this really is nothing but a good excuse to get some by-now easily obtainable tracks and slap 'em together thematically. Nothing especially bad about that if you're looking for a space-saving way to get a whole load of ancient trackage for your own personal pleasure, and as far as for being an encapsulation of the Liverpool sound this collection does a fair 'nuff job. Its got the familiar (Beatles, Searchers) mixed with those groups you only read about in old issues of WHO PUT THE BOMP! (Undertakers, Koobas) and, even for those who think they've heard it all before, there are a whole load of acts and tracks here that I and probably you have never heard of let alone heard before. It is an interesting slab of varying rock groups playing the Merseybeat, but one thing is certain and that is next to the music being made in the Pacific Northwest or any local crankout from across the globe for that matter boy, does this stuff come off soft and downright listless!
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Had a whole lotta fear goin' into this one...I mean, post-punk usually means "punque" to me 'n what's this "post" business all about anyway as if the original thing ever went away. But surprisingly enough this is a really listenable piece of musical excitement what with some Public Image Peel Session material ('s well as their appearance on AMERICAN BANDSTAND), the Delta 5 who I don't think are as stomach-churning as some of you more discernable readers might, and the same ol' Slits stuff that has been legitimately reissued long ago. Actually it did make for a somewhat pleasant listening experience and a reminder of that point in time when the mode of the music was changing, and perhaps not in the sorta way I woulda wanted but I managed to survive it all even if it were as a lesser man.
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Not having heard (or paid attention to) Bardo Pond in quite awhile this burn courtesy of Mr. Forward was a wake up call to be cornball about it. Yeah it's more of that "new" psychedelic rock 'n roll that sounds rather pale next to the Elevators or even various seventies acolytes but it still has a nice dirge to it that fits in with my own set of gritty existence (at least of the soul). Sorta reminds me of various eighties vintage underground rock attempts, some successful and others not, that were fighting it out for your hard-begged dinero with about a thousand other upstarts putting their own records out in the hope for that prized review in the pages of OPTION.
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Another one of many local psychedelic records made during the earlier part of the seventies, only this one's pretty close to the psych groove without being bogged down by the more flowery aspects that later befell the music. A hefty debt to the Allmans is more'n just plain "obvious", and although I am far from what one would call a fan of that group I gotta admire the way something like this stood apart from the usual hippie doldrums and right-on "relevancy" that was so prevalent then. Actually a pretty solid record from a band that I gotta say were too GOOD for the wretched tastes that were being encourages instead of shunned like they should have been.
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I don't think this is exactly the kind of dream house that Barbie would want to live in, but this LaMonte Young/Marian Zazeela installation piece is a fairly on-target example of mid/late-twentieth century art that was bound to get the Big City beret and stale doritos types all agog. Soundwise this is typical Young drone (including one long sine wave buzz) that might not be appreciated to the fullest without the visuals, but people who have been in on the Young game ever since they read about him and John Cale etc. in all those music books will appreciate this on whatever levels their li'l old art major minds can conjure. Good enough for me especially since I had immersed myself in some Pandit Pran Nath a good day or so before tackling this 'un!
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Double-spinner with some rather good Ra on the first platter complete with standard full ensemble horn blares and percussion workouts that go beyond the usual African root music you often hear on these free jazz efforts. For those long on the Ra discography there's also yet another rendition of "Satellites Are Spinning" that ain't as powerful as the one on THE SOLAR MYTH APPROACH (kinda ragged) but it'll do. The second disc contains one of those lectures that Ra did when he was teaching some class at I believe Berkeley and at least to these ears it comes off like nothing but a load of pseudointellectual shards of philosophy thrown together making little or no sense to anyone other than Ra and his closest followers. Sorta reminds me of that one OUR GANG short about the "Coo Coo Clams" where Sunshine Sammy and Farina (who were members in good standing) work for this black gentleman who gives talks filled with large and meaningless wordage presented in a purportedly scholarly manner. Another slice of Ra rarities and if you have 'em all boy, you must be rich!
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Who would have known that there were way loads of these fifties-era r/b efforts recorded if not actually released --- not I! I got some enjoyment out of these definite rarities featuring the kind of sounds that were definitely emanating from the darker part of Memphis, and given that my knowledge of this music is quite dismal I will admit that I at least did like what I heard. There are a couple of Billy Lee Riley tracks included which might seems strange to some considering his lack of melanin, but since the guy was steeped in the blues and learned how to play guitar from some fellow sharecroppers he does make for a nice token inclusion.
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Also known as SONGS WE TAUGHT THE GRATEFUL DEAD, this is yet another one of those themed collections just like the MERSEYBEAT one above that more or less comes off as an excuse to rob you of even more of your precious lucre. Can't fault these guys for the fact that these tunes are probably more known because the Dead covered 'em than for their own versions but eh, it's a fine enough grouping as these things usually tend to be. Y'know, I get the feeling that my folks woulda liked a nice portion of the tracks being presented here (at least the less raucous ones), that is until they found out that the Dead covered 'em which at point it's chuck the thing outta the house time and like pronto! (Mebbee not...after all I remember one July 4th when I caught my dad watching NIGHTLINE and as special guests they had Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir playing some folkie thing having to do with a monkey, and dad was telling me about how the Dead were well versed in all types of musical genres and performed them well to a "T" --- things that whoever was hosting the show had relayed to the unfamiliar peons like dad tuning in about the Dead 'n all, and sad to say my father actually came off as if he believed it hook line and Owsley!)
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Did you know that when I started BLACK TO COMM up way back when I was trying to get a rag with a CREEM/TEENAGE WASTELAND GAZETTE/BACK DOOR MAN snot nosed gritty seventies thumb your nose not only at the powers that be but the hippiepunks of the day up and going? A rather uncommercial thing to do right in the midst of the squeaky clean golly goodie eighties, and although I don't think I succeeded even though I did give it the good kindergarten kid try maybe you'll beg to differ. And there's one way to find out now, isn't there?
5 comments:
Hermitage is a hotbed, so to speak, of perv activity. And snack-tivity!
Lookin' at you, fatso! Yep! You, Stiggy Wiggy!
Now Hermitage has lost what could've been the next Wayne County. Sad!
Françcoise Hardy was good. And she, at least, leaned right, as the kiddies say. That's about as good as we're gonna get from a 1960s rocker.
Candy O? Stig got him some jungle fever. Disgusting, as Silvio might say.
Had a fab day at the Ernie Bushmiller exhibit in Columbus, then came home to find that the former prez was shot at- but not to paste -and then there was the _shock_ of the Ferd connection, revealed!
Concerning the last post, I really appreciated that Our Gang episode, and I wonder if that new Cecil Taylor book will be ruminated on.
Time for some CAN. YOO DOO RIGHT!
R.I.P. PATTY WATERS
Chris, there is a new Velvet Underground bootleg recording floating online from Nico & Cale era, inc. full band version of Little Sister. Surprised you haven't written about it yet?? Also the off-the-tv sound-recording of VU performing Guess I'm Falling in Love from their mythical live tv appearence.
Never heard of that 'un 'nonymous, although being so busy 'n all it ain't like I would have had the opportunity to. Any information as to the title, label, availability etc.?
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