BOOK REVIEW! AL CAPP (a Life to the Contrary) by Michael Schumacher and Denis Kitchen (Bloomsbury, 2013 [it ain't in stores yet!])

When I heard that a biography of LI'L ABNER creator, political/social satirist and blustery personality/shameless self-promoter Al Capp was about to hit the book racks you can bet that I was more or less shuddering at the mere thought of it. After all we are living in the 'teens when the "tell all" biography and overt "anti-establishment" (for wont of a better term) bias rule the publishing and broadcast world, and even the inkling that all the inside dirt regarding Capp's once private and eventually public life was going to be bandied about like overstuffed jock straps at a gay pride parade just didn't settle well with my stomach. True, just about everyone by now knows about the back-stabs, peccadilloes and other disturbing facts surrounding the Capp legend, but with all of the heretofore unknown nauseating embellishments and in-depth bunghole-diving that was going to be dished out I didn't know if I was going to walk away from this one an abject loather of the man, or if I was going to feel sorry for him despite even more of the disturbing revelations that are finally been aired in public. You better believe me when I tell you that I thought this 'un was gonna give me more creeps than an entire bound collection of SWELLSVILLE magazines with a few TOO FUN TOO HUGE issues tossed in for good measure!

After all, the infamous cartoonist and satirist of everything that moved Al Capp still looms as a controversial figure even though the guy has been planted in the ground a good thirtysome years. And, although Capp's certainly no threat to anybody these days, you can't say that he didn't make more'n a few enemies on his way up and down the fabled ladder of success to warrant a whole lotta hatred and "get back" directed at the memory. Dunno if it's obvious (at least to you), but I sure get the feeling that there are many still willing to drag his corpse about the same way that Nixon's and Agnew's have been if only as a warning to similar-minded miscreants who dare cross the (post-hippie) powers that be, and nothing can be worse than watching members of the baby boomer generation who've been running things for the past quarter century re-fighting the battles of the sainted sixties with their smug, self-important credos firmly in place! It's particulary painful especially when the same people who made excuses for the disturbing behavior of the likes of, say, Bill Clinton go about ruining the reputation of some Older Generation icon (or political/social/religious figure) who gets in their way just so's they can go about popping off about the "hypocrisy" of their elders, in between patting themselves on the back for all of those wondrous world-saving deeds of theirs that seem all the more hollow as the years roll on. I do generalize a tad, but the overabundant sanctimony of the anti-war generation (despite their misguided if good intentions) is enough to irritate me to no end.

Not that Capp wasn't responsible for his own early-seventies decline into the dungheap, but hearing about it from the likes of some extremely partisan and embittered (ex)-hippies setting him up as an example of the inherent evil of the older generation sure isn't something to cherish. And yeah, I still remember Capp the controversialist from my own tattered youth and how he used to harangue on the entire younger generation whether they be the hippies or spoiled TV-bred brats my own age (although this spoiled kid surely did not get the heaping amount of toys and games the other brats were getting from all quarters, and perhaps turned out the worse for it!). I also remember the guy being all over the durn place whether it be on the boob tube or in magazines as if he were a star the status of a Tiny Tim or Tommy Smothers to the point where you wonder where he ever got the time to draw his comic strip. Heck, the way Capp was getting around you would have thought he was a big name politician 'stead of a guy who'd been doing ABNER since the depression era (which, judging from the way the old folks talked, might as well have happened only yesterday!), and the amount of feathers this guy rankled was something that I'm positive made his name verboten in more'n a few circles that wouldn't give a second thought to praising the efforts of the likes of...Che Guevara???

And although the following memories are rather sketchy (perhaps because I wasn't reading the rest of the newspaper the same way I did the comics) I vaguely recall Capp's fast fall from grace when his womanizing (or shall we say attempted rapes) finally caught up with him and pretty much knocked the beloved cartoonist from his lofty perch as Ameriga's loudest comic strip voice. A guy who was one of the most popular cartoonists for almost four decades yet who by the early-seventies had seen ABNER dropped by newspaper after newspaper as his popularity plummeted, ending up as another shamed older generation relic to be held up for ridicule just like Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew. A whipping boy for the New Left, absolute proof of the downright evil of those who dared take on the strong arm of what was once called the Youth Movement who ended up getting yanked down mighty hard for his efforts.

I'm sure it was hard for many to witness...after all, here was a man whose strip was the one to guffaw over and discuss with your acquaintances but which by the mid-seventies had turned into such a pale shadow of its former self that when Capp announced his retirement and ABNER's imminent demise back '77 way the general response was akin to hearing crickets on an Autumn evening. (The book begs to differ regarding this point but I sure remember the many funny page fans who regarded the strip's eventual end as a mercy killing!) And what was really sad about it all was that here was a guy who rose from nothing and created a tsunami of a phenomenon, a strip that was once read by the likes of everyone from Hugh Hefner to Queen Elizabeth and if somebody was the subject of Capp's acerbic wit you knew they had arrived! Of course by the early-seventies I'm sure ABNER was the last place any upward-spiraling figure would want to be lampooned, not that the same smart set was still reading the thing since Capp's perhaps unavoidable turn into neo-conservatism some time in the mid-sixties.

Well, after reading this all the way through twice I've come to the conclusion that AL CAPP (a Life to the Contrary) is a well-researched and thorough enough book despite quite a few shall we say "reservations" that I harbor about the thing. Yeah, the authors' (which include underground comix pioneer and former ABNER publisher Denis Kitchen, a friend of the strip but no friend of the right) prejudices do seep in, especially during the parts dealing with Capp's 180 degree switch on politics and the late-sixties antiwar movement*...OK, it's their book after all and they're certainly entitled to push their various point of views 'n peeves...but for the most part this bio's about as well-written and complimentary to Capp as the artist (though not the left-baiter) as a read such as this should be. Authors Schumacher and Kitchen pretty much give you the facts and, although they can get grating when they do slip into their hippoid ways jumping to conclusions and uttering such inanities as to how ABNER paved the way for the likes of DOONESBURY (which is akin to saying that the Velvet Underground should at least be honored for influencing X-Tal) I'm sure you can easily brush them aside as typical pseudo-intellectual duds that were fired by people who, despite their love of the subject matter, just can't get beyond the whole sickening altruistic demeanor of their general upbringing and sociopolitical formation.

And yeah, it's pretty much all here unless there was even more dirt that didn't get scraped up which is hiding out there somewhere in the bushes. The feud with cartoonist Ham Fisher is detailed with both Capp and the famed JOE PALOOKA creator coming off as if they were having a contest to see who could be the bigger asshole, while the sexual assaults are presented in such detail (with a few more incidents I never knew about tossed in) that I hadda take a bath after reading about how an aroused Capp once forced the head of a married coed between his legs. It's not like I wanted to know about all of the bad things that Capp did throughout his sexual lifespan but of course I had to, and although the image of a naked, one-legged Capp hopping around after some unsuspecting student or aspiring actress wasn't exactly one I'd like burned into my grey matter for all eternity shielding us from such distasteful subject matter would have only made this book a fannish puffjob of which we've had way too many over the past few years.

But despite the fact that Capp was a horny womanizer and that his political beliefs cost him friends and painted a bulls-eye on his back, the message that the man was a fantastic artist who created one of the better strips to have come out during the boffo pre-war era of funnies is undeniable. Sometimes I wonder if even the authors realize it, but only the most hidebound Capp-hater would deny that Capp via LI'L ABNER brought a style and verve to the comics page that hasn't been seen since the days of the early HAPPY HOOLIGANs and LITTLE NEMO. Nor would they doubt that, at least until his personal life caught up with him, Capp was putting out a high quality comic that couldn't get past the starting gate in an era such as ours where strips have been shrunken to the size of postage stamps and the artwork looks so infantile that even Capp's criticism of PEANUTS in the late-sixties seems unfair next to some of the newer offerings which make that much-loved creation look like...well. LI'L ABNER. (Not that I thought Capp's critique of Schulz's talents was correct any more than I think that NANCY was created using a series of rubber stamps, but what passes for standard comic artwork in the here and now is so dismal that even the most slapdash comic of the past comes off like PRINCE VALIANT, a notable if boring exception to today's rule. With comic strips like these no wonder newspapers are losing readers!)

Anyway, it's all here from Capp as a nine-year-old Alfred Caplin and the tragedy he encountered losing his left leg in a trolley car accident, up through the years of bitter struggle and of course his hitting the jackpot, riding high and falling fast into a bitter and depressing conclusion. And it's enveloping reading even when the sneaky editorializing and personal comments which don't always jibe with my own personal ideals do get slipped into the mix**. It's a must for any Capp fan whether he's an old Silent Majority survivor or a hippoid who grew up with ABNER and begrudgingly championed Capp even when he was laying into the great unwashed, and though I get the feeling that more than a few readers will do some wincing when reading about Capp's sexual antics (not to mention some of the conclusions drawn by the authors) I think they can handle it at least in small doses.

If I have any qualms it is probably regarding the illustrations, or lack thereof, of some items that deserved to enhance the already juicy text. Like f'rinstance where are the legendary drawings of Capp's old teacher Miss Mandelbaum, a hot potato who Capp drew nudes of (for the slim sum of 25 cents) for fellow classmates? Maybe none of those survive but the Ham Fisher doctored ABNER panels which purported to show erect penises where mushrooms shoulda been are probably stashed away somewhere. Or for that matter the drawings of various ABNER characters gettin' in on in the all together that Fisher anonymously sent to the FCC when Capp was applying for joint ownership of a television station. Things like these would've not only been indispensable in enhancing the story but might even give some of you more lonely BLOG TO COMM reader an excuse for an extended bathroom visit! Maybe they'll pop up in the next edition, but don't let that stop you from reading AL CAPP (a Life to the Contrary) even if it will cut into your usual, uh, "free time."

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*a point which I believe I must sneak in some additional commentary that I so wanted to avoid in this already saturated review if only to counter some of the personal opines that were relayed here. One case in point is the authors' contention that nobody won the Al Capp/John Lennon and Yoko Ono go 'round at the Montreal Bed In, a conclusion that I fear could only have been drawn by people who still harbor hard feelings about the generation gap battles of the day and refuse to admit the major fallacies of many of its adherents who were involved. It isn't only my contention but that of others that I've spoken to that Capp was clearly the winner of that bout, making Lennon and Ono look positively foolish in their Fluxus-inspired plan to bring attention to world peace. As you know, I like not only Capp but Lennon and Ono (in varying degrees I might add) but can impartially see that Capp lambasted the couple in front of the entire world with Lennon looking like a whipped dog who could only resort to angry mewls when confronted with some hard truth about his and Ono's rather fainthearted antics that seemed rather misguided and silly not only then but years later.

Schumacher and Kitchen also downplay Capp's popularity during these years which naturally shows a strong bias, especially when you consider how Capp was still popping on all cylinders during the late-sixties and early-seventies with his various lampoons of not only the peace movement but Johnny Carson and Twiggy amongst other big names of the day. A brief dismissal was also given to Capp's various writings which appeared in THE HARDHAT'S BEDTIME STORY BOOK stating that this volume had little to offer anyone, a strange opinion as you can tell by my review where I mentioned that the book was just bursting with Capp's acerbic witticisms that would be enough to drive any tweed jacket with patches on elbows-type college professor type to suicide. I frankly find it hard for anybody to deny that Capp was perhaps at his best when writing about everything from Jane Fonda to Elliot Gould nude scenes (complete with an illustration!), but if the authors actually consider DOONESBURY a powerful, important socio-political statement especially these days well...

I'm sure the throngs of Capp fans who somehow thought that things were getting out of hand when protesters began shitting on the American flag felt the same way as Capp did (and presumably the authors didn't). Maybe Schumacher and Kitchen just can't realize that Capp, like (I shall reluctanly say) Archie Bunker, was a hero to many of the same heartland types who believed in what he was saying despite being set up as figures of mockery, something which bewildered Norman Lear for ages and which might perplex the authors for a longer time than any of them could imagine. But like I ultimately said, it's their book.

**I know that attention has to be made towards what goes into and is left out of reads such as this, but the authors really expurgated a lotta the explanations outta statements that were made by Capp which, when presented prima facie, only tended to make him look idiotic and foolish on purpose. Take the mention of an article entitled "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" which ran in the January 1973 issue of none other than PENTHOUSE, where Capp was given the opportunity to spout some admirable views regarding various establishment figures of the day both conservative, neo-conservative and fellow travelers. One of those Capp championed amongst the likes of J. Edgar Hoover and Ronald Reagan included George Wallace, a man who Capp wrote was "more of a friend to blacks than John Lindsay or LeRoi Jones." True these sentiments seem odd considering Wallace's pre-wheelchair days of segregation, but I'm sure the very text that the authors lifted this quote from would explain to us just what Capp meant. Of course presenting this line and leaving us with an obvious Wallace was no friend of African-Americans comment was an easy way to push their own agenda, but wouldn't the pair be doing us a service as to presenting the entire quote or at least trying to figure out what Capp was trying to say rather than dismiss him offhand? I guess in these days when the judge, jury and executioner is a billion dollar industry manned by the most politically pious snoots extant the answer to that 'un's a firm 'n steady "nein!"

Thought I'd do something a li'l bit (but not grossly) diff this week amidst all of the hustle bustle of work and the Frankenstorm which is just starting to hit the tri-county area as I type this, and that is present for you a running tally (more or less in chronological order) of just about everything I've listened to (not including incidental music from the radio or tee-vee or things forced upon me against my will) from the time I clicked the "publish" tab on last weekend's post and this 'un, whenever THAT'LL be (most likely Sunday afternoon or thereabouts). After all, the format in which I'm presenting for you all of these wondrous reviews of items you just won't read about elsewhere is known as a "blog" which is short for "weblog," and what better "web log" is there than for me to tell you about everything that's goin' on in my moozical life as it happened and in the correct chronology for that matter? Well, it sure was a better idea'n the blog I originally had in mind having to do with my top ten list of movies I hope never get made (SEXUAL PRACTICES IN CORAOPOLIS boldly holding the #1 spot with 120 DAYS OF FREDONIA taking a close #2).

But before I get into the meaty potatoes of what has been spinning on the decks, perhaps a word of political/kultural significance. Next Wednesday is the BIG day for alla you Amerigans out there who are called upon to do their doody and go 'n vote! All kidding aside, talk about the worship of jackals by jackasses which really fits in with this particular election cycle especially when you consider the two major candidates (known around these parts as duds) who are heading up their party's respective tickets. I'll say one thing about this election and that is that this is the first one I can remember where people are totally flabbergasted by the choice they have to make, hating just about everything about both Prez Obama and Mitt Romney all aghast at the choice of having to vote for one or the other and hinting around that neither will get their support come voting booth time. (And finally coming to the logical conclusion that "voting for the lesser of two evils" still includes an "evil" in the quotient.) All I can say to these people stuck in such a quandary is..."wha' th' hell TOOK YOU SO LONG????????"

My own personal prediction is that Obama's gonna hang onto the presidency by a one/two point margin at the best and a popular vote loss but electoral college win at the very worst. I don't see any major changes in the house or senate races enough to change the status quo, but despite all of the victories and defeats this Wednesday I get the feeling that the final four years for Obama will be those of quagmire, quicksand, quandaries and perhaps a little quackery to keep my usage of words beginning with the letters "qu" on a roll. Who knows, by 2016 I get the feeling that maybe the guy'd wish he didn't make the effort to extend his job an additional term but naturally we'll see what happens when we get there.

Either way it's gonna be a trip, though if Romney does pull a fast one and captures the presidency it's gonna be a gas watching all of the riots, name calling, charges of fraud, personal attacks and (best of all) the even Newer Left than the New Left of yore crying and flaring nostrils with a particularly hardened vengeance! I mean, if these people were unsettled and volatile before you should see 'em when their candidates lose! And of course if Obama wins you're gonna see that mainstream right wing types (who lost their cred around the time William F. Buckley decided to be nicer just so's people would like him which you knew they never would) do a slow burn routine to make Edgar Kennedy proud...nothing wrong with that only they sure don't know how to flare up the way they used to back inna sixties when the LBJ types were runnin' roughshod all over 'em to the point where many of the pseudo-conservatives like Nixon began acting like East Coast progressive snoots! But other than that, remember this Wednesday to head on down to your local polling booth and express how you feel, just as long as you don't mess things up with any bodily fluids.

Well, after that PSA here's the juicy stuff that you've been waiting for a good four paragraphs ago.

ELECTRIC DEATH CD (available via. CD Baby )

This is one of those New York groups I decided to give a try considering all of the ones from the nineties I missed because I thought it all went to crap by that time. Naturally I was wrong, because although the New York Scene (and elsewhere) began to fill up with loads of groups imitating jamz and styles that were mere imitations of earlier endeavors, there were some acts that had that refreshing approach and appearance that seemed to hearken back to the innovations of the seventies instead of the xeroxes of the eighties. Electric Death were but one of those refreshing bands that intermingled with the usual alternative waveoid crap and post-hardcore memorex that clubs had booked since the death of the seventies underground groundswell, and these Puerto Rican roughshods play a pretty good if potentially commercial hard rock that's part heavy metal, part punk rock and slightly reminiscent of the BOC/Dictators school of tuff En Why musical display. Nothing that'll eke superlatives of utter rockist grandeur outt my pipes, but a surprisingly sharp release from a group I never heard mentioned before in my life and probably never will read about outside of this very review.

The Grateful Dead-MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON CD bootleg (click here to read my original review of not only this but a number of other Grateful Dead bootlegs)

I must be turning into an old hippoid because I actually prefer listening to this than Grand Funk Railroad! The oldies material sounds about as rockin' as if some definitely non-San Fran local group was churning 'em out in the privacy of their own garage and even the meandering weave in and outta a whole bunch of Dead chestnuts didn't bore me like they're supposed to. Maybe I'd like these guys more if they got their hair cut, didn't do mind-"expanding" hallucinogens, weren't into esoteric hucksterism, wiped after they took a dump...

Ainigma-DILUVIUM CD (Garden of Delights, Germany---read my original on-line review here)

Not bad at all, especially in the way these teenagers mixed oh-so-precious progressive rock leanings with late-sixties mid-Amerigan punk rock credo making for a record that sounds like it can't decide whether it wants to be Triumvrat or It's All Meat (yeah they were Canadian, but you're smart enough to get the message, I think). Talk about the stormfront collision of two warring factions in the great seventies battle for the minds of the stoner teens of the world! Perhaps the biggest intrusion of prog on punk turf at least until groups like Amber Waves and Elixir began getting gigs at Max's Kansas City.

JOHN CAGE SHOCK 2-LP set (EM Japan, available through Forced Exposure)

Biggo surprise that arrived just in time for Daddy Cage's 100th birthday bash last September. The long-rumored 1962 Japanese live tapes recorded during Cage's tour of the nation with David Tudor and Toshi Ichiyanagi in tow.  Totally aleatory (that means these toons take a chance and things just happen, sorta like in your own bedroom) with loads of screeches, random sounds and even a few surprises such as the appearance of the soon-to-be former Mrs. Ichiyanagi Yoko Ono doin' some hot warbles, phlegm launchers and even some Japanese wordspeak. I'd've loved to've heard the take on "Fontana Mix" she did during this period which future hubby John Lennon once hinted was going to see the light of day, but maybe that appears on one of the three Cee-Dees that EM has simultaneously issued which most definitely are on my watch list...are they on yours???

Ascension-DETROIT, 9/20/73 CD-R burn

Dunno why this boffo live show (or any other recordings for that matter) never got released considering just how high energy and orbiting Saturn this short-live MC5 spinoff was. Somehow slipping within the cracks of Detroit history being too late for the late-sixties movement and too early for the late-seventies, Ascension took the best moments of what was to be (Sonic's, New Order, Destroy All Monsters...) and charged 'em up in the best hard-driving avant-rock way possible for an audience who would much prefer to hear Led Zep covers (no foolin'!). There's even a turn down the amps request from the owner of the venue and (best of all) a whole buncha tracks that have never been heard before or since for that matter making this a must have if you've ever sworn allegiance to the Detroit epiphany. And to sweeten the pot so-to-speak the guy who burned this for me (wouldja believe Mike Kolesar of CHEESE READER fame?) added the MC5 contributions to the GOLD soundtrack at the end which really brings back alla those memories of what sorta promise these guys had for us at least until it all came down rather hard 'round '72 time!

JACKIE GLEASON PRESENTS MUSIC, MARTINIS AND MEMORIES CDR-burn (originally on Capitol)

What a nice 'un to slip on the ol' box after a hard day at the salt mines! Those Gleason albums cluttering up the flea market and antique shop bins for the past four decades were actually beneficial when it came to easin' the old tired nerves for the fifties workaday slob masqueradin' as a hi-fi nut, and not only that they made good background music for gettin' inna mood with a gal wearin' one of those torpedo bras and Toni home perms. Feelin' tired, romantic or just wanna long-deserved break from the horrid drek passing as twenty-first century entertainment? Then place this on the ol' launching pad and reminisce about the days when being masculine (or feminine if you are of the lady persuasion), hard-driving and just plain straight wasn't the crime it most surely is today!

INNER MYSTIQUE RADIO #14 CD-R

Another edition of the long-running Bill Shute radio program emanating from his old digs in Catawba Virginia and proudly broadcast on CFMU radio for some reason or another. Great selection (as usual) from Bill's bountiful collection including a whole slew of live pre-laurel-resting Van Morrison tracks where he's backed by Cuby and the Blizzards (!) as well as some Hasil Adkins insanity and Blue Things rarities including a strangeoid late-sixties take on the thirties nostalgia trip, the kind that used to get my mother oh-so-mad! There are even three tracks by Carmaig DeForest (remember him?), a guy who sure vanished w/o a trace just after the time he recorded a couple albums which seemed to get boffo raves but were ignored by the general populace (mainly you!). Special guest host this week was none other than Bill's son Eric who, judging by his performance that evening, sure as shootin'  proved that he had a great future in drive time shock radio.

MOBY GRAPE LIVE (Sundazed)

I wrote a rambling review of this back 2010 way, and I guess that if I have to ramble on any more about this live collection better do so now'n to forever hold my piece. The sounds of a group poised for big things that never made it out the gate bungled by poor commercial judgement and underage gals, all ending in the magnificent extended live take of "Dark Magic" which certainly knows how to weave its San Franciscan (as in what the place was for a spell and should have been by the late-sixties 'stead of what the place eventually became) spell. Can't get any less rambling that that now, can we?

Tuesday's Children-STRANGE LIGHT FROM THE EAST: COMPLETE RECORDINGS 1966-1969 CD-R (originally on Rev-Ola)

After the ass-reaming day I experienced at work this pop-psych muck's the last thing inna world I want to listen to! Dunno why I picked it outta the pile o' platters that Bill Shute recently sent but I did and boy am I the worse off for it. This English group sounds like one of many in the Beatle soundalike ripoff sweepstakes that were proliferating the scene back in the perhaps not-so wild 'n woolly late-sixties, and while they did have their "charm" it ain't exactly like this music's gonna soothe my nerves after today's travails the way METAL MACHINE MUSIC most certainly can. Maybe when I'm in a much better mood you say? After today I will forever associate Tuesday's Children with today's utter torment the same way the Flesheaters have been on my "never again!" list ever since a certain fellow ruined their appeal for me a good nine years back! (Yeah I know, as Paul McGarry told me I'm letting other people rule me, but then again I sure do have my scruples, and as you all can tell they're tossing and turning in eternal torment!)

David Bowie-LOW CD (Ryko)

You might have written Bowie off as a shuck and jive chameleon who went from mod to folkie to glamster to afro to avant gardist (after that I lost track) within the span of a good ten years, and so have I! But gosh, if I don't like slipping this one on if only because it brings back hefty memories of high school obsessions and when life could be enjoyed to the fullest on one level and feared to the utmost on the other (this being long before I discovered that perhaps I too could use fear as a weapon the same way others used it on me). Anyway, the hype about LOW being Bowie's avant trip in the same fashion that Tim Buckley's STARSAILOR and George Harrison's ELECTRONIC SOUND were their outlets for non-commercial ideas still holds up, with Bowie doing some rather kraut-y moderne pop things with Iggy guesting on vocals (his IDIOT's gonna be the next platter to come in for a 35-year-later re-eval one-a-these-days) before sliding into some excellent moody "tone poems" that sound almost as good as the real thing Columbia used to put on the grey label. Believe-you-moi, LOW made this 'umble reviewer who was into Terry Riley and Philip Glass the same way some femme philosophy major was into est and macrame such a fan that he hadda spin it nightly  in order to soothe his troubled brow after a hard day at school gettin' hassled by shithead teachers and cornholed pupils alike. Not that I'm nostalgic for that, but I sure am for laying in bed and listening to music as if it had some strong narcotic power to sate my angst and erotic (in the Jonathan Richman sense) yearnings. Can you believe that? You better, bub!

SUISHOU NO FUNE CD (click here for my original review)

At the time I didn't think this Japanese psychedelic underground act (with a bonafeed ex-Les Rallizes Denudes member in the ranks to give 'em a li'l more credo) was anything that I would want to spin on a daily basis, but the dreamy soundscapes and harsh atonal nightmare extant reminded me of just how varied the post-Rallizes scene could be over in the Land of the Rising Yen. And yeah, I will admit that that Suishou No Fune have more meaning (in the post-sixties/seventies underground rock fashion birthed by the Velvets and nurtured throughout the late-sixties) than a good portion of today's post-"underground" acts, and if you catch me during a rather depressed time in my life I will tell you that yeah, this was probably the final true gulp of it all..

THIRD EAR BAND CD (BGO England)

First album by the famed English hippiefest regulars who began life as avant garde jazzers Hydrogen Jukebox before flipping back to the seventeenth century. Funny, but at first I thought the Third Ears were proto-punks considering how they used to plop up on gigs alongside the MC5 and Pink Fairies but they were pretty much acoustic traversers who were more part 'n parcel to the joss stick crowd than the high energy maniacs. However, judging from recordings like this they didn't need electric instruments to create a beaut of a droning sound that took elements of East and West and re-shaped it all in a way that could appeal to the underground hardcore fan as well as the flower child! Slip it in between a spin of any of your fave seventies all-outs and don't tell me the Third Ear Band ain't warbling on the same wavelength even if the style fits more into the Harvest Records groove than it does Skydog!

The Tony Williams Lifetime-TURN IT OVER CD (Verve)

The typical rockcrit line on this being a cross between Ornette Coleman and the Velvets doesn't quite hold up in true Maidenform fashion, but TURN IT OVER sure stands its ground in typical George Zimmerman fashion! And yeah, you can easily consider it (as well as predecessor EMERGENCY) as a platter that can drive with the best of the late-sixties punk rock excursions extant while paving the way for some of the more technogeeked seventies mishaps to plague the once untamed world of jazz. Even the addition of Jack Bruce on bass guitar doesn't turn this into a classic rock rubfest (though his vocals on the bonus track are about as Woodstock as can be) and if only John McLaughlin coulda continued on the fine path he blazed here 'stead of gone the Mahavishnu route we wouldn't've hadda put up with all of that Sri Chinmoy jive he was handing us throughout the seventies. Maybe it's not to late to slip a li'l the white stuff his way so he could at least go out in style, though as James Taylor (and Lester Bangs) taught us the use of opiates and the "creative process" do not necessarily go hand in hand.

Patti Smith-A WING AND A PRAYER CD-R bootleg (Head)

Patti just about the time you discovered her, live on tee-vee in England (OLD GREY WHISTLE TEST) and in San Fran and at some New York college where she undoubtedly gained a number of new wave advocates in the process. Considering most of this was recorded right before Patti lost her initial spark it's a definite keeper with the boffo live take of "Radio Ethiopia," the entire shebang concluding with a karaoke-esque version of "White Christmas." Sparks are still flying pretty fast here, making the likes of me wonder "wha' 'appn'd???

Zuno Keisatsu-2ND ALBUM CD (Invitation/Victor Japan)

Last on this week's sweep through the galleys of my collection is this obscuro, a re-release of T(yrannosaurus) Rex obsessives Zuno Keisatsu's second album, considered by some an important "proto punk" document. Like their main influence, Zuno Keisatsu went from an acoustic duo to a full-fledged group (with bongos blasting away natch) on this outing producing everything from all-out rockers to Dylanesque drivers with a whole lotta weird stops in-between. As you'd expect there are Bolanesque "bopping elf" styled tracks, commercial pop rockers and even the dips into Kyu Sakamoto-esque sentimental Japanese schmoozers which, judging from these items, seems to be par for the course! Nothing that I'd wanna kill you for, but this one does snuggle neatly into your early-seventies punk collection amid the likes of TEENAGE HEAD and even THE SIDEWINDERS if you can imagine that!


Well, that's if for this week. And you patriotic Amerigans, remember to head out to the polls this Wednesday and do your doody! And when I say "doody" I mean it!!!!

BOOK REVIEW! EERIE'S GREATEST HITS (Harris Publications, 1994)

When I was a lad of fourteen, I was really gung ho on getting hold of alla the EC horror/sci-fi/adventure/humor reprints that I could lay my grubby little paws on. Strangely enough, I really couldn't care one whit about the line of horror comic magazines that Warren Publications was churning out even if they were pretty much feasting on the carrion that was left by the Werthamites and assorted do-gooders a good  two decade or so back. Now, I gotta give credit to to HELP! publisher James Warren for doing the obvious and recreating the spirit of fifties horror comics as sixties comic magazines thus circumventing the Comics Code once and for all, but they never did gel well in my brain...for me, the fifties were the cool times with the cool comics and cool tee-vee shows and cool automobiles while the present day was only good for scavenging fifties remnants via garage sales and afternoon viewings of LEAVE IT TO BEAVER reruns.  If I only knew about the underground rock spasms that were being birthed by the likes of the Stooges and Dolls at the time maybe my tastes in something concurrent woulda been brewin', but for me  the likes of CREEPY and EERIE were just too new and hot off the press for me to even remotely take seriously. As far as I was concerned it was 1963 and nothing LATER (unless it was something birthed from a hot fifties/early-sixties ideal that was ruminating around this late in the game, and within my ape-like mind these horror comics just didn't fill the bill!).

Maybe I was too hard on the Warren horror comics, though I gotta admit that the EERIE'S GREATEST HITS collection didn't cut to any quicks or affect me the way those EC comics had during my disformative years. Yeah, I know that this title was practically an EC knockoff (I've read COMIX too, bub!) and that Warren was tryin' like the dickens to recreate the fifties EC style for the mid-sixties comic club, but things (as usual) tend to get lost in the translation and the original potency always seems to be left in the men's room at the diner on that long road trip to comic book fruition. The stories don't quite strike you the way they should and the art just comes off too sixties to conjure boffo fifties memories, and even the fact that Warren was able to pull off a coup by getting old EC regulars like Johnny Craig (who'd lost his Milton Caniff-y style by this time) and Wallace Wood to work for 'em couldn't help me forget the fact that these comics were from the mid/late-sixties and came housed in mags with garish covers painted by Frank Frazetta with grotesque monsters abusing ample maidens with loads of double-D boobies fiting into B-cups and cleavage galore and inward navels perfectly placed within smoothly terrained bellies that...hey,  forget about what I said...these comics are a gas!!!!

Well, at least the covers were boffo, and even a curmudgeon turdball such as I will admit so were some of the stories. Nothing as engaging as the Warren comics which appeared in the aforementioned Les Daniels comic book history tome is here, but there are a few surprises such as Angelo Torres' "Soul of Horror" (with a telegraphed ending true, but it's nice reading getting there) and Johnny Craig's "Trial By Fire" (with art that looks more like I'm sure his commercial work at the time did). Speaking of EC regs, Al Williamson's "The Lighthouse" is yet another hit-me-over-the-head obvious story with fantastic art, and even personal fave Steve Ditko pops up with a nice horror saga that naturally doesn't rank up there with his Marvel work let alone MR. A. or THE QUESTION but still sates enough esp. if you were one (like me) to gobble up every WHERE MONSTERS DWELL for his early-sixties reprints. Best of the batch in my humble opinion's Alex Toth's "The Monument" which again has you knowing the ending well into panel #3 but when you finally get there boy will you be surprised at how wrong (in the right way?) you were!!!

I understand the Warren titles have been reprinted (again) recently, but this'll make a good toe tinkler before you decide to take the plunge into the hardcovered editions that'll fit fine in your own personal library situated in your own personal den as you wear your own personal smoking jacket and smoke your own personal cigar taken from your own personal humidor just like you always thought you would do this stage in your life. If you've read 'em before and wish you never sold 'em off at the family garage sale this might be the one for you...if you were the kind who just stood around at newsstands and read 'em for free this might also alleviate your guilt for being such a penny pinching tightwad. And if you were a kid birthed in the forties, fifties and first half of the sixties who missed out on a lotta hotcha teenage antix because your parents were afraid for you and kept you locked up with nothing but Maypo and JACK AND JILL this might be a good chance to check in on just one of a thousand neatly subversive and entertaining teenbo things you missed out on the first time around. It's never too late to start acting fourteen again, and in fact judging from kids today it's sure be nice if they acted fourteen in the cool, baby boomin' fun way 'stead of the "young adults" they most certainly tend to be anymore. Heh, get some EERIEs for your Dilton Doiley of a nephew and if they don't turn him into Eddie Haskell I'm afraid the brat's gone for good!

Yes, that's actually a snap of me, clumsily cropped so you didn't have to see anybody else who was snuck in this pic that was obviously taken w/o my permission oh so long ago. Thought I'd share 'em if only to prove that yes, I indeed had a youth as well as a pair of spectacles that had a very hard time staying on my face as you can not only see from the above snap but from this pic taken a few years later (circa issue #9 or so) which I've had the decency to post directly below:

Boy, wasn't I the skinny minny back then! Same slipping specs natch and the 'stache and beard an obvious tribute to the writer most near and dear to my heart, Byron Coley! Actually, looking back on those days all I can say is I'm sure glad that I don't have to re-live 'em, though I sure as shit wish that I had even more moolah to spread around considering the hike in price a hefty portion of the records I wanted back then have taken on the ebay circuit!

And, in order to get even with her, here are a couple snaps of Jillery from the same batch. Sheesh, there must be something wrong with gene pools if a fine specimen such as I could be even remotely related to someone of her stature!

OK, now that we've had our laugh here are just a few of the platters that I've been spinning this past week. Again I ain't been feeling up to writing what'cha'd call essay length reviews in the fine Russell Desmond/CAN'T BUY A THRILL tradition (guess the longwindedness has gotten outta me with my last major gastritis attack) but hopefully they're short 'n succinct enough to make an impact with you!  Thanks to Bill Shute for whatever burns may appear below, and while I'm at it thanks to CD Baby for making the recordings of nth-string New York acts of the 80s/90s/00s available no matter how forgotten or loathed by the same snides who would have championed these acts in the 70s they may be!

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Maurice McIntyre-HUMILITY IN THE LIGHT OF THE CREATOR LP (Delmark)

It seems as if my jass leanings have been tilting towards the AACM sorta thing these past few months, and this oft-forgotten album helped out during a fine afternoon display of basement box rummaging this past Sunday. McIntyre, along with the rest of the original AACM stable, really had his Ayler feelers working on optimum and this sesh is no exception. A-side's got a number of rather primal short numbers punctuated not only by McIntyre's playing but a chap by the name of George Hines who emits some of the most guttural Heimlich Maneuver vocalizing I've heard since those eighties John Cage recordings, while the flip's an extended workout not as free sounding as the Art Ensemble yet not as classical as Anthony Braxton could get when he was perhaps paying too close attention. If you like the rest of the AACM Delmark releases, especially Joseph Jarman's amazing output as a leader, this should fit snugly inside your own personal discomfort zone just fine.

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Devo-BE STIFF 12-inch EP (Stiff, England)

Can't believe it, but this collection of pre-first elpee single sides 'n whatnot doesn't sound that bad at all in the light of the future which we all hadda do duty now for back inna early-eighties. True I don't really cozy up to "Jocko Homo" or their choppy take of "Satisfaction" in any form, but when Devo were trying to sound more like Roxy Music and Sparks than their college bred pseudointellectual selves at least the futuristic jumble can be set aside if just this once. A comparison spin twixt this and the group's tres-Hollywood output of just a few years later makes for a fine lesson in comparison between the original blueprint and too many cooks' hands making light work out of spoiled broth. Or something like that.

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Streetkidz-LOOKING FOR A THRILL LP (Rave Up)

Dunno how this particular act bypassed me for so long but I guess now is the only time in my life that matters. Streetkidz were one of the many En Why-area rock groups who sprung up on the club scene in the seventies, and judging from this selection they really had the concept of what was goin' on punkwize down pat. Hotcha straight-ahead rocking here, sometimes in a Ramones blur and others a Motorhead screech. But whatever they do you can be sure the results are pretty energetic w/o the gnu wave smarm that would overtake just about everything in a good three year's time. If you like the early Rubber City Rebels tracks on that split album they did with the Bizarros back when they were still leather-jacketed scum attempting to osmose into the new direction in rock you'll probably love it. And it's perhaps enhanced by the fact that the people at Rave Up learned how to have their records pressed up the same way that Dave Gibson at Moxie did his and that's no joke!

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Various Artists-Kyoto Jazz Massive presents SUCCESSION OF SPIRIT CD-R burn (originally on Impulse Japan)

Dunno exactly who the Kyoto Jazz Massives are, but one thing's for sure and that's they sure know how to put together a jazz comp! SUCCESSION OF SPIRIT collects a number of appropriate rarities from the Impulse vaults, and although this is far from being an Impulse "Greatest Hits" package it sure knows how to pack an avant garde wallop aimed right at your most starry-eyed and youthful recollections of just what this music was supposed to be after reading about it in CREEM. Two Pharoah Sanders tracks from his pre-sellout days make this one for those who can't afford the entire Sanders Impulse catalog (which was for the most part top notch even with Lonnie Liston Smith aboard) while (if you can believe it) Alice Coltrane doesn't make me wanna run for cover even with the tamboura drone. For me the best track here's from Albert Ayler's oft-loathed MUSIC IS THE HEALING FORCE OF THE UNIVERSE (which probably ain't the heaping comedown it's made out to be even though I've been frightened away from it 'n NEW GRASS on word of mouth alone!) though why in heck were two John Klemmer numbers stuck on??? Talk about bringing the property value down with these two turdbombs, but considering how I got it free maybe I shouldn't act like the spoiled brat ingrate that I've come to be known as lo these many years. But I will.

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THE GREAT LOST KNICKERBOCKERS ALBUM CD-R burn (originally on Sundazed)

The "Lies" guys never were what I would've called "prime" NUGGETS material and in fact seemed more "show-bizzy"' than the other groups on that collection of prime mid-six-oh Amerigana. Standells included. However who other'n the most hidebound big city "rock critic" breastfed on late-sixties hippie screeds could deny that these guys were one of the more powerful local acts around to the point where they even made Johnny Ramone hang up his guitar strap for a few years in utter desperation! The always boffo Sundazed label should be commended for getting this particular collection out consisting of ne'er before released tunage that shows the group at their more "professional," "commercial" and of course exciting. Ups and downs abound, but you gotta admit that the Knicks at their lowest was much higher'n most groups at their tippy top and I ain't complainin' one bit! Best of the batch includes disque closer "My Feet Are Off The Ground" which has a fantastico churn to it that reminds me of something that woulda made a good Standells b-side 'n hokay, maybe you are turned off by the group's more 1963 hair and dress but as Bill Shute constantly tells me sometimes "get over it!"

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Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs-THE MGM SINGLES CD-R burn (originally on Sundazed)

Sheesh, didn't know Sam the Sham released so many singles for MGM but I guess he did, and if you can believe the cover they're all collected on this nice shiny platter (or pitch black one in this case). Fourteen single sides here including the biggies, not to mention the flopsters and the legendary one that I'm surprised didn't make a bigger splash with the already over-rocked teenage crowd of the day. As with the Knickerbockers collection there are plenty of niceties and a few that don't quite light my fart, but I'll take this entire ring dang doo over Santana anyday, even the disque closer (as just "Sam the Sham") "Fate"/"Oh Lo" which really gets into the late-sixties proto-lowrider sound that seemed to permeate the early-seventies AM dial with a vengeance!

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Transcendental Psychology-REDEFINITION CD (Chromium, also available from CD Baby)

Y'know, I had my doubts about an act that considered both Rick James and the Art Ensemble of Chicago major influences, but once I gave this 'un a spin I thought well... Transcendental Psychology are a rawther decent outfit despite their alleged love for hip hop and watered down eighties funk, and if more acts could work out such disparate influences and come up with something like this its best I dump my preconceived notions in the trashbin and start listening to other kinds of music like Eddie Flowers told me to do a good twenny-five years back. I figure "OK" to that, just as long as I don't have to surrender to myself.

Pretty straight ahead at times whilst intricately avant garde at others. Nothing that different than the various new free jazz groups that have sprung up o'er the past few decades but still in-groove enough to satiate my own personal listening patterns during those frequently introverted moments which I encounter more and more these winter days of my life. Grab a bottle of Geritol and encounter your own New Year's Eve with this under-the-radar classic!

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Pinups-ALL THAT WE WANTED CD (Poptown Music, PO Box 52, Lincolndale, NY 10540 or try CD Baby)

Here's another one of those obscure late-seventies NYC groups that actually put something out back inna nineties, making me wonder how they managed to make it through the eighties considering how their music  was about as outta place as an Isetta at a Rolls Royce collector's club meet. Pinups played what I guess you could call a punk pop style with heavy paens to commercial (non) rock, and although a whole lot of this was I guess you'd say "halfway decent" it's nothing that really connected with me the way similar popsters gone the punkster route back inna seventies could. Probably needs a few more spins to sink in like a good rainfall on my hard-as-earth mind but prima facie-like it's a take or leave situation.

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The Rousers-PLAYING THE ROCK AND ROLL FOR YOU CD (Rocktime, available through CD Baby)

Oh no, not more aging seventies survivors getting back together to record their old songs in order to get over their mid/late-life crises or re-live some of their misspent youth or something like that. Anyway, I always got the Rousers confused with the Rudies (aka Day Old Bread or the Jupiter Jets) which is an easy thing to do considering both groups were more or less pop rock power trios playing the same turf with similar names, but whatever it's sure nice to have these guys back even if they could spare to split a bottle of Grecian Formula between 'em. Too poppy for my tastes true, but if you were the kinda guy whose NYC listening parameters came closer to the Heats and aforementioned Pinups as opposed to the harder and angrier sort you'll probably love this 'un up to the rafters and I don't blame you! 

BOOK REVIEW! THE UPSIDE DOWN WORLD OF GUSTAVE VERBEEK, THE COMPLETE SUNDAY COMICS 1903-1905 EDITED BY PETER MARESCA (Sunday Press, 2009)

Given my ever-eternal comic strip obsession (birthed upon my daddy's knee and nurtured by repeated tee-vee viewings of DICK TRACY cartoons) I sure could use more and more reprints of some of them extremely early titles that undountedly set the stage for the strips we all know and love today like CRANKSHAFT and THE BOONDOCKS. Face it, a complete collection of HAPPY HOOLIGAN and MR. JACK would make this boy a really happy lad, and come to think of it the entire run of the 19th-century KATZENJAMMER KIDS strip'd be a gas to read too, especially the really early ones when an un-named (this being during the strip's pantomime years) third brother joined Hans and Fritz in their strictly Aryan hi-jinx. But at least there's has been at least one nicety that's made its way to my door, this particular collection being just one recent example of how a comic strip collection should be done 'stead of just slapping some yellowing clippings on a xerox machine and whirring away!

Given the legendary status of Gustave Verbeck/Verbeek's THE UPSIDE-DOWNS OF LITTLE LADY LOVEKINS AND OLD MAN MUFFAROO I'll dispense with what every other review of this strip and book has mentioned since intellectuals began paying attention to comic strips and critiquing them the same way they would a Picasso or Rembrandt. Y'know, ruin the entire genre the way they did rock 'n roll ever since those once-loathing college professor types began finding significance and worth in Donovan lyrics. I will state the obvious to suit my own purposes in padding this review out at least a few sentences...that the idea of taking six comic panels and having the story continue by flipping it over was ingenious, especially the way Verbeek could make a smoked clam look like a snake, an old coot with a basket a puppy, singing pixies bearded goblins or a black bird a long-haired boy with big eyes by merely inverting the image. And of course Verbeek's ability in making a cohesive story out of the project (and doing a whopping 64 of 'em!) proves that this man (and probably nobody else then or now) just hadda've had the right fervid imagination to pull it all off with a ton of elan. Believe-you-me, after a few strips your mind'll start a-wonderin' just how the guy's gonna work the storyline out by guessing in advance w/o flipping the page for a sneek peek, and usually being totally surprised when that image of a tent turns into an underwater explosion spurting water (and our heroes Little Lady Lovekins and Old Man Muffaroo) outta the drink thus throwing you and everybody else reading these strips for the proverbial loop!

I like it all, the ingenious designs, the intricate yet at times deceptively simple artwork, the strange story lines and even the now-verboten violence which might upset a few of the little ones out there. (Take the '04 Christmas strip where Santa's reindeers are killed when his sled takes an icy tumble!) I guess that kiddie strips could get away with loads of violence along these lines (not to mention the time Lovekins and Muffaroo gouge the eyes from that same giant snake which was once a roasting clam before being 180'd) in the days before public do-gooders and other Werthamites began running around trying to make this world a better place only ruining it even more in the process. Well, at least nobody but the most stringent iceblock could complain about the Lovekins and Muffaroo characters, a pair who seem to have such a special love 'n affection for each other that hasn't been seen anywhere (even kiddie books!) for years and come off so admirable in their own humble way! Their relationship has such a sentimental value (meaning, I don't think people have loved each other this way for at least eight decades) that it even brings a pang of what shoulda been (at least in my life) to my own jaded heart! I'm surprised that today's guardians of public behavior haven't trounced upon the strip for this very reason alone, because the last time I looked the concept of love has sure changed from being romantic to thinking with your genitalia and that ain't no good!

Didn't think I could get away w/o showing you at least one example, so here's something I found on the web (the publishers of this new collection actually reprinted these strips in their original size making this an oversize treat galore...and the book is so big I couldn't even fit it in my scanner!). Probably not the one I would have liked to have shown ya (that being a nice story having to do with Muffarroo and Lovekins going fishing and the latter falling deep into the brink) but perhaps the most colorful and fanciful of the entire run which was pretty fantasy-driven to begin with.

And, just so you won't have to stand on your head, the same comic flipped over so you can read the conclusion without breaking your neck.
 










Lotsa Verbeek art besides THE UPSIDE DOWNS can be espied in this book too, including some early '90s ones done for a French mag, his THE LOONY LYRICS OF LULU (slightly screwball) and of course THE TERRORS OF THE TINY TADS, yet another popular Verbeek strip filled with all of that boffo pre-World War I whimsy, playfulness, fantasia and other superlatives critical snobs like to toss around. Acting as more or less a turn-of-the-century version of Burroughs' Wild Boys, the Tads travel about in their "hippopautomobile" and encounter strange flub-a-dub styled creatures and other bizarro situations that might seem too kiddie on one hand but ingeniously clever on another. As usual, you will be the judge 'n jury but I happen to find 'em all rather amusing. My favorite of the bunch just has to be the one where the Tads give a coupla wimmen a ride on their boat only to be harangued about the rights of their gender in the voting booth to the point of nausea. Of course the Tads do the most logical thing and "suffrajettison" the gals which is something that might make you want to pout in self-righteous indignation but just puts a wide beaming smile on my face!

EVEN MORE CASSETTE CAGA!!!

Is it me, or is the mail wreaking havoc with my life? If I were a true paranoid, I'd say that the US Mail Service is trying to sabotage my music life what with packages I've mailed disappearing and orders taking their good ol' time reaching their proper destination, something which does weight heavy on my mind even more'n the prospect of having to undergo a nuclear colonoscopy! And while I'm in my classic bitch 'n moan mode I'll say that I definitely am one guy who really needs my music whether it be old faves or new variations, and now that there really ain't that much new stuff comin' out that I'd wanna kill for like there was when I was seventeen and my heart certainly was aware I am frothing at the mouth PISSED.  I've also been runnin' dry as far as discovering older forms of rock that probably bypassed the standard music listening fan of the seventies but by gum will not bypass ME!!! And, sad to admit it, its even come to the point in my wretched life where I'm even curious enough to wanna find out about some obscure NYC-area group (nth-stringers on the CBGB/Max's scene) like Elixir who, from all reports, began life as a GENESIS cover band 'n yeah, it's all for the sake of documenting some important musical history few really care about (now) but please...somebody help me!!!! (Still wanna hear these guys as well as any of the under-the-cabinet local acts  that played these clubs inna seventies so if you want some belated fame well, you know who to contact and it ain't Christgau!)

Of course the archival dig/reissue scene has dried up to the point where I see all of these opportunities to present us hungry rock chaps with the raw meat abounding, but it seems that nobody's willing to dish it out despite the fame and fortune that would be theirs for the asking!!! As you all know, I sure could stand being inundated with examples of Amerigan (and elsewhere) underground rock excursions from the sixties and seventies, but other'n a few tasty tidbits here and there where's the gush of releases anyway? And as far as reissues of items that we can all benefit from, why do the "major" labels re-package the same good, mandatory but heard many-a-time Velvet Underground and Stooge classics in new garb while ignoring the likes of Kim Fowley, whose I'M BAD and INTERNATIONAL HEROES has been on my want list for ages only who can afford the collector's prices that have been heaped upon these records over the past few years? You'd think that the bootleggers would reish this stuff considering the majors could give a hoot...I mean, that's what some enterprising young chaps did with the Hackamore Brick album and nothing did happen to them, right? Hey major labels, once you quit patting yourselves on the back how about opening up your catalog to a new and thriving audience (not to mention the old one who'd like to hear this stuff before they go totally deef)???

So in a vain search for something to refresh my "spirit" (to be hippie about it) I decided to break into my long-ignored cassette collection once again to re-acquaint myself with some old pals. I figured this would help ease the pain until my order from CD Baby (and maybe even Forced Exposure if only they'd get outta that weird world music bag of theirs and get back to the rock!) arrives, and besides I haven't played most of the following tapes in upwards of two decades so listening to these is almost like getting some new wares to enjoy. I was surprised to find that all played well 'cept for the Zappa one near the end of side two (warbly and uneven!), and although slippin' 'em in the boom box really did dredge up a whole slew of memories that I perhaps would have liked to have forgotten maybe they'll inspire me well in my life trek to incur revenge upon every soul that dared cross me. So until I crash the next school reunion with an automatic of my choice here's what's been keeping me entertained over the past seven...

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Glenn Phillips-LOST AT SEA (Snow Star)

It's funny...right when I was in the middle of my MUSIC TO EAT hysteria back '76 way this 'un was getting released on the then-chance-taking Virgin label over in pip pip land. Unfortunately I didn't know it (as well as Bruce Hampton's ONE RUINED LIFE OF A BRONZE TOURIST) were even available, but if they had only gotten into my mitts at the time boy would my trajectory taken off on a totally different direction! But then again, maybe it's good that I didn't get to hear LOST AT SEA back then because I prob'ly woulda just thunk it was more of that jazz fusion stuff that really didn't settle well with my vital organs the way all of those early Alice Cooper and Captain Beefheart albums did. Maybe I would have liked it, but then again I'm sure there would be something inna back of my brain telling me that I had just wasted a good $6.99 on another glossy jazz platter that was so slick and professional (ech!) I could have traded it to some local burnout for a good nickel bag, and one thing I really coulda used when I was seventeen was a nice heaping bag of nickels!

Nowadays I say hey, this is just what the throngs of Mahavishnu-lapping rock groups 'n other DOWN BEAT aspirationists to the jazz rock echelons shoulda sounded like 'stead of alla that wanky jazz rock progressive fiz that was raking in the big bucks for some ungodly reason. Definitely benefits from the homestyle two-track basement recording (no "ship in a bottle" techniques as Peter Laughner once said), and it's so powerful and moving in spots it might even bring a tear to some of you more susceptible readers' eyes. Not mine, but I guess my heart doesn't break as much as the people at the Huffington Post wish it did (y'see, everything they write about regarding some supposed "tragedy" is always referred to as being heartbreaking, naturally reducing that term to utter dribble sans any meaning that it once might have had!) The rest of Phillips' solo material did not inspire me that much, but this 'un manages to transcend the usual trappings of seventies guitar flash and make for a rather...dare-I-say nice time????

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Sick Dick and the Volkswagens-INTERFERENCE (New Frontiers, PO Box 426, Yellow Springs OH 45387)

This is DAILY DANCE guitarist Doug Snyder's En Why-era act's only real release which you just might be able to still get even at this late date if you write the address listed above. I'm sure you remember reading about this 'un for years...its the one that Lester Bangs actually gave some hotcha points to in the VILLAGE VOICE "Pazz & Jop" poll thus creating a big hubbub as to just who these guys were and what they did. I gotta say that when this first came out back inna early nineties I was a li'l  put off by the standard late-seventies neu wave vocalizing, but twentysome years later it doesn't phase me at all. And the electronic drone these crazies churn out sounds so grand especially here in the future when the ideas spewed forth were supposed to have overwhelmed us to the point of surrender but never really did. Wanna know more about this demi-Suicide-ish (they use a drum machine too!) hard driving underground splatter? Then just click here and pick option #24.

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Kilslug-A CURSE (S.B.)

This cassette from one of Boston's more notorious "hardcore" groups is proof enough to remind me of just how much promise and action-packed gumption the entire "scene" had just before the hippie punks at MAXIMUM ROCK 'N ROLL began telling impressionable upper-middle-class kids to pay more attention to what was going on in Central America and the Middle East 'stead of in rock mags and record shops. After all, we don't want too many "rock stars" hanging around now, do we? All kidding aside this is fantastic blare, beautiful repeato-riff drone music that benefits from the garage recording techniques and addled, neo-Flipper-esque playing. If your hardcore tastes roam closer to Rancid Vat than Rancid, this is one (of many) for thee.

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Treponem Pal-ADVANCE TAPE (Roadracer)

Mebbee I oughta forget mentioning this group if only because their original record label stiffed me outta $$$ for an ad. But gosh darn it if this act wasn't just one of the brighter highlights of the late-eighties gotta find something hotcha to keep me from goin' insane scramble I and I assume many of you readers were undoubtedly engaged in during those rather confused times. Heavy metal with easy enough to spot punk refs. is always a blast whether you're talking about early UFO or the Dictators, and Treponem Pal continued on that fine tradition with these three numbers that straddle both concerns to the point where I'm sure they might have alienated each camp even though these guys are successful to the max'n probably have enough money in the bank to keep them in penicillin for decades. References to Killing Joke would be too obvious (esp. since former KJ drummer Paul Raven once roamed their ranks) but if someone dreamed up the equation of their sound being equal parts Swans, Prong, early Black Sabbath and Von Lmo (!) maybe I'd give 'em a gold star 'n a nice wormy apple to boot!

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Kilpig-COMPILATION 1984-1986; LIVE AT CBGB's (109)

Kilpig were an under-the-covers as I like to say group that was roaming the New York stratosphere in the mid-eighties, a good four or so years after their brand of brash pseudo-En Why art cum new wave rock had pretty much been washed over by geeky "gnu" wave and hardcore rumblings. Given that their vocalist Nozomi is Japanese Yoko comparisons immediately came to mind, though when she ain't doing her extended wailing I see her as more of a femme Damo Suzuki in the way she emits various epiglottal vocalese to the at-times Can-ish free schpiel. You may draw your own conclusions if you can only latch onto these two cassette tapes as well as an EP done for the obscure 109 label, a company that probably was in the right place but during the wrong time.

The 1984-1986 COMPILATION is a good place to start...its ninety minutes containing everything from "Sabre Dance"/"Do You Know The Way To Santa Fe" mishmoshes to various post James Chance sax bleats that sure sounded outta place in the starkness of the mid-eighties but such a relief from the usual "underground" mewlings that kinda made a whole lotta inquiring types wonder where things went wrong. The live tape's got some raw-ther entertaining takes on such hoary old classics as "Love To Love You Baby" and "Inagadadavida" plus some standard "noise rock" scrunching complete with that rather brittle, treble-y saxophone that seems to be doing catcalls all over the place. Not gonna call any of this "essential" but it just might be that interesting change from the everyday musical antix that you most certainly deserve a break from.

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The Apostles and the Mob-LIVE AT THE LMC 22/1/83 (Cause For Concern, 53 Hollybush Hill, Snaresbrook, London E11 1PX England)

Looking back from a good thirtysome years hindquarterssight, a lotta the Crass-inspired anarchist musings that were comin' outta England didn't really hold up that well as opposed to various other genres and stylings that were popping up under that strange umbrella of "punk rock." And gol' ding it, but didn't a load of those acts with their antiwar, antimeat, antimale and antimoolah ideals just seem like the beginning of that whole love 'n violence hippiepunk hijinx that certainly turned off more'n a few people faster'n you can say Patchouli Oil? Well at least there were a few rambunctious rumblings comin' outta that scene that at least grabbed me by my stirrups, if only because they still swore allegiance to various sixties/seventies innovations that never did vacate my heart even if they might have seemed "passe" and "old turd music" to quite a few of the same people who were endlessly singing their praises just a few short years earlier.

Quality on this 'un ain't that hotcha, and in typical prole fashion the folks at this anarcho-whatziz company used the cheapest tapes money can buy outside of those hecho en Mexico Cetrons that jammed up many a tape deck inna seventies. But still the fire and energy roars on despite the up the hiney sound quality and the fact you can't hear any of the between-song patter that I'm sure contain a whole load of pertinent diatribes regarding various subjects that I'm sure meant a whole lot to the guy up there singing 'em but never did add up to much in your own personal math text.

The Apostles start the show off, and although these guys certainly were a mixed bag as far as political concerns go (what with their rabid animal rights and anarchist stance on one hand and their staunch patriotic fervor and Skrewdriver covers on the other) at least they had the good sense to base their musical aptitude on the likes of various old timey faveraves such as the Velvet Underground and Groundhogs. Nice drone blare here, perhaps aided by the poor sound quality in which we don't have to hear the singer rave on about everything from Zulus to forcing baboons to eat Mars Bars but I'm sure none of that interests you.

The Mob don't stray far from the same method of seventies underground rock stylings remooshed for an eighties jaded clientele either, with each and every one of the tracks from their set sounding as if the group locked themselves in a bank vault and spun CAPTAIN LOCKHEED AND THE STARFIGHTERS for 48 hours straight. So good in its approach and sublime rage that you even forget that the Mob were just spokesmen for one of the more intrinsically evil movements to hit the twentieth century, and the twenty-first as well for that matter. At least they weren't as explicit about it as most of the compats, meaning that there is a slight chance they'll miss the firing squad one the tribunal gets into gear hopefully more sooner 'n later.

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The Trilobites-LET'S PUMP (Atomic Records & Tapes, PO Box 338, Huntsville 2220)

Once the nineties rolled in there were quite a lotta people wondering why I wasn't writing about the seventies/eighties Australian underground anymore...y'know, the same Australian scene that borrowed the better moments of late-sixties Detroit experimentation and seventies New York glam slam and gave us hope that it wasn't all dead? Well, the answer to that one was simple, mainly that the groups Down Under (or at least their spawn) who were out 'n about really began to suck. It had even gotten to the point where acts like the New Christs and Died Pretty were making lousy records, and I gotta admit that there's nothing sadder'n listening to something that was so filled with promise and hope for a high energy future that fizzled into the ashes of burned-outism faster'n you can say "yeah hup."

Dunno what happened to the Trilobites once they too hit the new decade with perhaps less than a vengeance, but this '85 live tape captures 'em doin' a rather rip-roarin' live set that at least conjures up fine memories of the Australian clime I remember so fondly. Y'know, just before that contenent became the home to a whole lotta bad trips we all best soon forget both musical and otherwise. Loadsa covers (Stooges, Groovies, Yardbirds, Dictators via themselves and the Rivieras) give an idea as to where these guys were comin' from, and although this ain't exactly the barnburner many were undoubtedly expecting it sure made for good late-night fun 'n jamz that helped slip me into the arms of Morpheus with a smile on my face and a jackhammer thud in my chest. If you can't find this I'm positive that the original singles are available somewhere, and if a CD comp has slipped my attention lo these many years I wouldn't be surprised about it either.

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Frank Zappa-HOT RATS (Reprise)

Although I ain't as much of a Frank Zappa aficionado as I was durin' my Junior and Senor years in high screw-all, I still like to listen to Zap's earlier releases now that, since he's dead, the guy hasn't had the opportunity to annoy any of us with more of that drek he was inundating us with for quite some time. Anyhoo this particular cassette of 1969's HOT RATS just happened to be peering at me (or was it Miss Christine?) from the box of cassettes in the basement and since Lester Bangs' positive review in ROLLING STROON was still embedded in my brain I figured "wha' th' hey???" And y'know, this fusion blend of Zappa's was a whole lot better'n the jazzbo "look at me, I'm a renaissance man!" stuff he was doin' in the seventies even if that was far more digestible'n Return to Whatever no matter how commercial it could be!

Z's guitar playin's a whole lot more angular than usual and the band (utilizing only one Mother, the indispensable Ian Underwood) is muy simpatico to what ol' stinkeroo's trying to accomplish as far as bridging early-sixties avant garde jazz and late-sixties freak rock to the point where I kinda wish he woulda dumped his regular Mothers and kept these guys on full time! Don't think there was a virgin's chance in Penisland for that to happen, but at least we wouldn't have hadda put up with "Billy the Mountain" or "Camarillo Brillo" for that matter.

Of course the REAL icing onna cake's Cap Beefheart's vocalese on "Willie the Pimp," something which makes this a must have even for alla them late-seventies new wave types who loved the Beef but gave up on the Zap ages back. And of course Sugar Cane Harris' violin really adds the compliment to Zappa's guitar playing which ain't that annoying in that slick tenchnowhiz fashion that had people dribbling goo to the mere mention of his name. Even the usual session guys (not forgetting the wretch-inducing Jean Luc Ponty) don't get in the way, but the big mystery here is just why didn't Zappa offer sideman Underwood the chance to make his own solo recording for Bizarre considering how he pretty much keeps this 'un glued together with his overlaid woodwind work...yeah, I know that woulda probably sold about as good as Tim Dawe but what a 1976 flea market find that woulda made!

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ALSO LISTENED TO (and slightly digested): Alan Vega-MAX'S KANSAS CITY 6/27/81, which not only might've been Vega's last stand at his longtime hangout but showcases his rather hotcha combo which not only contained guitarist Phil Hawk but had former Magic Tramps drummer Sesu Coleman in its ranks. Hear the death knells of Max's give birth to the ginchiness of Danceteria right before your very ears. If you like the first two Vega albums you know what to do by now. John Cale-MUDD CLUB 2/27/82 showcases the  famed musician/producer in a solo acoustic setting dishing out the cream of his seventies proggy career for dazed college students in Cardigan sweaters to rest shoulders upon each others' heads. If you like this period in Cale's career as well as saving leaves in the pages of old books this will go well with the hot chocolate. DMZ-THE RAT 9/4/77- they don't sound as six-oh as usual here but DMZ still churn out a mighty crank including hits from their various Sire and Bomp! outings as well as a ferocious cover of the Sonics' "He's Waitin'." This is the kinda stuff that CREEM used to call heavy metal back in the seventies, at least until that mag started to see which side of the butter their bread was on and more or less morphed into HIT PARADER junior. ELECTRIC EELS, EX-BLANK-EX, DAVE E-a collection sent my way by Jim Clinefelter ages back containing shards, mis-takes and other rarities that might sound fantabulous if some studio wizard with ultra-modern equipment got hold of it. Some ultra-rarities abound such as a live "Silver Daggers," and hearing Ex-Blank-Ex with Dave E. singing makes me wonder not only what else is out there that we just ain't heard at least since 1977. If I hate you, I hope you never get to hear it. The Troggs-MAX'S KANSAS CITY 6/17/78-listening to the vast array of live tapes recorded at Max's and CBGB throughout the seventies really drives home the fact as to how much rock 'n roll energy (as well as other forms of moozikal expreshun) was being presented on the New York club scene before the decadent seventies clocked into the sparkly eighties. As Annie Golden said about CBGB, you also didn't know what to expect when you went into Max's where you could see a wide variety of music being presented that was pretty much within (and sometimes on the perimeter) of just what hotcha rock 'n roll maniacs of many a stripe would drool for. Somehow the Troggs seemed custom made for a club like Max's, and hearing 'em careen through their melange of tried 'n trues plus choice r&b rompers sure makes for a fine example of sixties accomplishments being reshaped for seventies consumption. Back then knowing groups like the Troggs were still abounding pretty much fit into my scheme of things (or at least what I was discovering unfold before my very ears), and really gave me a spiritual connection to the music of the previous decade which mattered to me just as much as current music did. For the life of me I thought that the innovation of the sixties and the raw power of the seventies was gonna lead to an all-out explosion of high energy rockism throughout the eighties. Looking back, it's no wonder I failed math!