BILL SHUTE'S TOP 30 ALBUMS (in no particular order) THAT MADE ME WHAT I AM TODAY--THE MOST INFLUENTIAL ALBUMS DURING THE PRE-PUNK HIGHSCHOOL YEARS circa 1972-76.

(You asked for MY list, Chris, so here it is...)

1. KIM FOWLEY, Outrageous (Imperial)
2. VELVET UNDERGROUND, White Light White Heat (Verve)
3. ARCHIE SHEPP, Three For A Quarter, One For A Dime (Impulse)
4. STEVE LACY, The Forest and the Zoo (ESP-Disk)
5. BIG BILL BROONZY, Do That Guitar Rag (Yazoo)
6. CHOCOLATE WATCHBAND, The Inner Mystique (Tower)
7. ZOMBIES, Odessey and Oracle (Date)
8. JOHN CAGE/DAVID TUDOR, Indeterminacy (Folkways)
9. GEORGE HARRISON, Wonderwall Music (Apple)
10. GENE VINCENT, Record Date (Capitol)
11. ANTHONY BRAXTON, For Alto (Delmark)
12. CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, Trout Mask Replica (Straight)
13. LA MONTE YOUNG, Theatre of Eternal Music (Shandar)
14. PAUL BLEY, Ramblin’ (BYG-Actuel)
15. FRANK WRIGHT, Church Number Nine (Calumet)
16. J.B. HUTTO, Slidewinder (Delmark)
17. JOHN LENNON, Plastic Ono Band (Apple)
18. THE ASTRONAUTS, Astronauts Orbit Kampus (RCA)
19. THE GANTS, Road Runner (Liberty)
20. TERRY RILEY, Persian Surgery Dervishes (Shandar)
21. THE MOONRAKERS, Together With Him (Shamley)
22. SIR DOUGLAS QUINTET, Mendocino (Smash)
23. COLEMAN HAWKINS, The Hawk Flies (Milestone)
24. BOB DYLAN, Blonde on Blonde (Columbia)
25. IGGY AND THE STOOGES, Raw Power (Columbia)
26. VELVET UNDERGROUND, 1969 Live (Mercury)
27. ELLIOTT MURPHY, Aquashow (Polydor)
28. JOHN MAYALL, Memories (Polydor)
29. BUDDY HOLLY, Holly In The Hills (Coral)
30. THE YARDBIRDS, Roger The Engineer (Epic)

Chris, could you put this in the main blog rather than the comments section so more people can see it?
Thanks...BILL SHUTE

Sure Bill...but only thirty???? C'mon, you can do better than that!

SATURDAY NIGHT LEFTOVERS

I liked the idea of doing a Saturday evening rather than the usual Sunday afternoon post so much that I thought I'd do another one this week as well! Unfortunately there ain't as much that I have to write about this time, particularly because I shot my wad on the STRAW DOGS review last go 'round plus frankly I haven't been gobbling up as many Cee-Dee wonders as I would like (though I still am snatching up all the good ol' vinola out there in anticipation of a new turntable and stereo system winging its way to my chimney this upcoming Christmas). So bear with me as I go through a couple of recently-received items that have filled up my senses (for good or bad) a lot more'n any John Denver ode to his flat-chested ex-wife ever could!

Steppenwolf-EARLY STEPPENWOLDF/FOR LADIES ONLY 2-CD set (BGO, England)

It is kind of a shame that, for all of their hit singles and albums not to mention influence on the late-sixties rock scene that Steppenwolf are all but forgotten save for a smattering of aging "classic rock" aficionados plus a few oldies radio tune-ins who hear the same two mega hits ("Born to be Wild" and "Magic Carpet Ride"...not even an occasional "Sookie Sookie" to liven things up!) over and over via some satellite feed. Like Tommy James, these guys were pretty big roost rulers during the not-so-dim days of late-sixties rockism yet for all of their efforts (admittedly mixed affairs which I won't deny) even the more in-tune amongst us seem to poo-poo Steppenwolf into the same wastebasket of pre-punk non-hip offal along with all of that bubblegum stuff which...hey, was a lot better'n most of the dross getting the royal treatment by the "underground" pundits during them days, savvy?

And yeah, I must 'fess up to the fact that for years I TOO was of the opinion that Steppenwolf were for losers only, perhaps because of the over-played "Born to be Wild" which, like the umpteenth play of "Stairway to Heaven" and the Chuck Eddyfied praise bequeathed upon the song, has a million lights flashing "WARNING" inside my brain. And with dozens of local nimnuls out there (who I hadda butt heads with during my early-twenties days) proclaiming to be the voice of the proletariat real working class steel mill hard-living rough and ready types lumping Steppenwolf in with a load of horrid early-eighties slim pickings the likes of Journey and REO Speedwagon (and throw a few Foreigners on the fire for good effect) how can any proud elitist like myself claim to do anything but hate 'em? But then again two things helped sway me from looking at Steppenwolf as yet more FM rock fodder (after all, they gotta play something in between "Close to the Edge" and "Karn Evil 9"!), and those two things were mainly none other than Don Waller and Russell Desmond!

Now I'm not exactly the kinda guy who does a lotta 180-degree switcheroos on the basis of a "rock critic" (please note the quotations, willya?) whom I admire from afar...after all, I've read Tim Ellison for about ten years and although he's one of my fave current writers that don't mean I'm exactly rushing out to buy any From (Of?) Montreal disques as of yet. And another fave of mine, namely Lenny Kaye, used to rail on about the Grateful Dead and even JAMES TAYLOR in the pages of CAVALIER and that didn't make me any more hot to champion either the San Fran burnouts or the introspective wuss! However, I certainly will read almost anything said "critics" (again, please note!) will write about even the dullest of dull musical acts out there, for like in BACK DOOR MAN or DENIM DELINQUENT the writing and presentation of such ideas is so snat that you'll read just about all of it even if you don't particularly care for the wimps being written about!

Waller didn't write his pro-Steppenwolf screed for the old BDM but for the liner notes of one of those eighties Rhino NUGGETS samplers, the one in which "Sookie Sookie" appears and yeah, not being familiar with that song at the time and reading about it via one of my fave writers did help plant the seed of Steppenwolf in my back pages. And what helped bring that seed to primal fruitation was Russell Desmond's Steppenwolf survey in his CAN'T BUY A THRILL #4 from 1978 which, besides a thorough historical rundown of the band with all the tiny minute information being packed with personal recollections and the like, also includes a downright slimy story about the time Desmond and his friend were at a stop-and-rob where they saw some poster plastered in the front window proclaiming that Steppenwolf were playing at some Baton Rouge dive that night, and some Cajun guy with all of his upper teeth missing (who also noticed said poster) began talking with 'em about going to see the show as well! Slowly but surely throughout his conversation with the two fine upstanding young male specimens this Acadian fellow starts tellin' 'em about how he also likes to hang out at gay bars, first saying he just likes to observe the goings on and then telling his agape audience that he only likes to "be performed on" even though he wasn't gay himself, and finally offering his own oral services (remember, no top teeth) to our now totally-grossed out Steppenwolf fans! (Believe me, after reading this saga all agog over the seediness of the thing I was ready to jump into a vat of concentrated Lestoil myself!) The kicker to the story was that Desmond and his friend went to the Steppenwolf concert that night and although they didn't see their French friend in the audience (not that they were lookin'...), they didn't see Steppenwolf either! The group who happened to be performing that very night were in no certain terms a buncha imposters (Desmond thinking that maybe a roadie had usurped the name since he couldn't even find any of the original members [not just lead singer/main focus John Kay] anywhere in sight!), though their attempts to get their money back were nothing less than futile with the manager telling our dejected lads "Of course they're Steppenwolf...see, their name's on the marquee!"

But you can be sure 'n shootin' that it is Steppenwolf on these two disques in question, and I gotta admit that it's sure nice that BGO reissued these platters in a nice twofa fashion even though pairing early, prime Steppenwolf with latterday iffy 'wolf isn't exactly the stuff dreams are made of. EARLY STEPPENWOLF (recorded live at the Matrix in San Francisco March '67) is the clincher and the only reason that I got hold of these platters, mainly because of the unbelievable side-long (using el-pee speak) version of yet one of many Steppenwolf standards, "The (now infamous) Pusher." And yeah, I know that the more "familiar" version of this Hoyt Axton composition (I believe off the STEPPENWOLF LIVE album) is what drove many a punk-minded kid to the wild and barbed-wire strains of Delta Five a quarter-century back, (sheesh, the phrase "tombstones in their eyes" alone is enough to make one grab up all the Rough Trade singles one could get his hands on!), but this "Pusher" is made totally copasetic to many an adventurous ear by the great electronic opening (obviously created under the influence of dope so thank the pusher for "The Pusher"!) that recreates the spirit of early San Francisco a lot better than a hunk of the native bands, and it took some out of town Canadians to do it! With atonal guitar, distorted organ and what sounds like either well-controlled feedback, a theremin or perhaps one of those other noisemankers during the pre-synthesizer days, Steppenwolf (who were still chirping under their old Sparrow moniker) make a heady soundstew of avant-punk that I'm sure would've even impressed the Red Krayola, and although the stories about how the local FM station would play this and the Velvet Underground's "Heroin" simultaneously (!-as recounted by Aral Sezen in the latest WHAT GOES ON) doesn't sound like any real great shakes "The Pusher" is still a winner even with those subpar lyrics which Kay does his best to make his own (and he does!).

The rest of EARLY STEPPENWOLF is a beaut even though this was a tossout from a few years later released only to pump the market with more Steppenwolf product. Frankly this white-kid blues rock sounds very in-tune with a general '67 punk mode (as did a lotta the early-San Fran sound morphing from garage to freak to eventually country commune jams as the decades shifted) at times reminding me of those oft-bootlegged Captain Beefheart San Francisco tracks from roughly the same stratum. And for a throwaway they sure did a fine job here coming off a lot better that most of those seventies live album budget affairs that sounded worse than most bootlegs! After listening to this one, you know that Steppenwolf deserved all the fame they got even though they certainly should have become more than just another nostalgic trip playing to the oldsters at revival shows worldwide.

As far as FOR LADIES ONLY, this one foresakes the metal for settled-down numbers that on first play reminded me of (believe-it-or-not!) Roxy Music's COUNTRY LIFE (an album I adore) without the slick decadant smarm. There's really nothing here to have me recommend this particular one to you, mostly because the whole thing just zooms in one hole and out the other. Kay and company were clearly at the end of their creative juices here (I'd at least like to hear their radical politix elpee where they were ripping off Led Zep on numbers like "Draft Resistor") and gee, even I forget exactly when Steppenwolf started to drop off the National Youth Radar mostly because I was more concerned with comic books at the time, but with albums like this hastening the drop who knows. Still, get this double-set for the live material which is rather nice introverted material for those bedroom-barracaded times most of you loners go through.

Alternative TV-LIVE AT THE RAT CLUB '77 CD (Obsession)

SNIFFIN' GLUE's Mark Perry, like Claude Bessy, Richard Meltzer and a few other peripherals, seemed like one of those punks who was more or less perched on the outer rim of the punk rock "scene" for wont of a better word. Punk in spirit yet with the historical/dark obsessive backbone that many a punk rejected, Perry's Alternative TV never really seemed to fit in with the British media's idea of what all that noise was supposed to be about...to some (like Paul Rambali at NME), they tended to owe more to the Amerigan brand of garage-punk groups from Patti Smith to the Velvet Underground, and it probably wasn't until fellow borderline acts like Wire and Swell Maps were making a big noise (and creating what was unfortunatley known as "post-punk" as if anything after punk was worth a dime) that people could categorize these guys, but for whatever reasons you know that Alternative TV got the short shrift mostly because hardly anyone could pidgeonhole 'em into the right pre-defined perspective that fit into their narrow views of what was supposed to be all hot and roaring in Merrie Olde at the time.

Anyway, this cheap-o live cassette recording made by Genesis P-Orridge of all people at least captures just what it was that was all the worthwhile about Alternative TV, who on one hand sound like the best British equivalent of what was taking place on the Amerigan garage scene while creating the "next logical step" as far as British punkisms would go, pretty much going off on their own tangents all the while. Sound is properly muddy, performances are great in that cheap unrehearsed yet primed way, plus you get a soundtrack snippet taken from the drag queen film that opened for the band (!!!) and to top it off the group does a cover of the Mothers of Invention's "Why Don't You Do Me Right" (the Polydor budget album collection was probably just released)! A fun time was surely had by all, and I gotta say that while I've had trouble sitting through CD collections from the likes of such British punkiods the likes of the Drones and V2 (who seem to have strengthened my prejudices against British punk manyfold---I will continue to listen to 'em for further study of course) I will be playing Alternative TV more often than not which is saying something in these particularly anti-British rock (at least for me?) times!

Claw Hammer-THANK THE HOLDER UPPERS CD (Interscope)

Gee, I wonder why I picked this compact disque up? Seems I read a review of their one single somewhere, but I just can't remember exactly who wrote the thing. Hmmm... Anyway, although the nineties were a particularly dark age for my listening parameters (despite the era being the so-called "Golden Age" of rock fanzines or 'zines as they were called by then although I never saw any great rewards for the fruits of my labor) I remember having a strange admiration for a number of groups who were making then-current rackets out there. Of course there was Monoshock and lessee...well, there was also Claw Hammer, and although frankly I started to tire of their sound mainly because although I tried hard and hard to think it true, the music just didn't have the same ZING! as the stuff which inspired it. However, I gotta say that their great meshing of everything from Captain Beefheart and the Hampton Grease Band to early Blue Oyster Cult, bloozy Rolling Stones and early-eighties Los Angeles street strut sure made for a particularly tastier time for myself than listening to the various "promo packages" that were being winged my way (all of which have dried up in the interim...fortunately!) during my more "active" days of fan-obsessive rock writing.

Anyway, Claw Hammer are so maniacally-inclined on this particular disque that I'm almost ashamed that I erased that radio tape I had of them someone sent me ages back. Sure there's a lotta the early-eighties West Coast sockahoola here that some bloggers may love to death (which, on principle, makes me run the other way), but the almost heavy metal hardness of the music coupled with the crazed vocal attack and the near-Gurley-styled guitar leads certainly don't have ME dumping THANK THE HOLDER UPPERS into the flaccid meat grinder. And yeah, even the "fan" who inspired me to pick this particular platter up is right (oooh, how that hurts!) when he talks about the manic guitar interplay which I know hasn't really been heard since the glory days of Rocket From the Tombs, but still for being a mid-nineties vintage "grunge" (I mean...INTERSCOPE?????) release this sure runs rings around the usual dried-up junkie competition out there. I guess some people were put on earth for a good reason other'n to tick me off!

IN OTHER NEWS...the guy who is pictured on the right, namely one LOU RONE, told me this little factoid a few weeks ago that I thought I should pass onto you. Since I'm a fellow who is always interested in the evolution of songs and styles usually when said song or style is something right up my alley, you can bet that I pay attention when I find out about how some of my favorite songs have originally come about, or how certain hipster bands and songs have radiated genius across the boards influencing bands and songs where you'd lease expect it. Like you already knew that the Rolling Stones copped "Stray Cat Blues" off the early Velvet Underground, and that Rocket From The Tombs got the idea for "Final Solution" from Blue Cheer's "Summertime Blues", right? Well, did you know that none other than Von Lmo (and band) got the song "Be Yourself" by mutating none other than Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love"??? I've yet to do a side-by-side play, but frankly this bitta information does seem mighty interesting, and perhaps something that would add to the myriad theorizings of one Tim Ellison (who could certainly make a huge blogposting outta this simple fact!). Anyway, it's just something I thought I'd pass along to youse in case you're out there in search of even BIGGER thrills!

FINAL NOTE: none other than yours truly had a strange dream last night that I wouldn't exactly relate to you solely on the basis of it being a weird one, only there was a rock & roll angle to it so I will. Somehow amidst the long and drawn-out storyline (where I mingle with relatives as they looked in the distant past amongst other things) I was watching television when I saw a strange film with none other than the Styrene Money Band's "1967" clearly playing on the soundtrack. Anyway, as the song plays on verse-by-verse (the lines about holding it in our arms and in rapture protecting it from harm) I saw a pan of a shot that, as the song went on and on, was repeated clearer and clearer starting with a semi-close up of a cave/primitive man looking at the future with a wild abandon as we see the growth of civilization via various artifacts such as an ancient fertility doll on through various Greek and Roman works of art (busts, paintings) all the way through to the present day. The clinker is, as the song reaches its end (and the screen is crystal clear) we suddenly see some indescribable work of art perched upon a mountain which (as my brain syntaxes were relating to me) represents the pinnacle of man at his creativity and maturity, which explodes as the song strikes its final chord! I can surmise that this dream is symbolic of/perhaps even foretells the end of civilization as we know it or the destruction of the pure man by baser colletivist minions for that matter, but whatever this amazing and relatively vivid dream does have to say it surely tells us...that NY-QUIL does wonders for your nocturnal brain activity!

MOOM PITCHER OF THE YEAR (even if it was made in 1971)...STRAW DOGS!

I think I may have seen this one on the tube long ago, or maybe not. Whether or not I did is a moot point anyway because like I said they used to edit these things to heck when they hit tee-vee but whatever, I do have a recollection of STRAW DOGS perhaps from what I've heard about it all these years. Oh yeah, I remember the big hubbub even in 1971, y'know, how STRAW DOGS hadda go and spoil all of the good timey peacenlove jive that was being passed off on us imbecile kids who were so stupid as to eat up everything our teachers fed us not having the brains to know we were guinea pigs all the while (I go into a lotta this in my T. Rex review in the latest issue, but it sure feels good mulling it over here!) but anyway, even though I can't recall anybody going out to see STRAW DOGS back then or talking about it or even mentioning its existence (heck, I can't even remember it playing at any theatres around here for that matter), it sure cast a dark shadow across the cinematic landscape. And if you can remember three-plus decades back perhaps you too will recall that STRAW DOGS had even the usual dignified critics all aghast...por ejemplo the usually too Metropolitan to be allowed to live Pauline Kael (or was it Judith Crist??? Always got those bitch crits mixed up) even branded STRAW DOGS as "the first American film that is a fascist work of art" which seems to be way off the mark...wasn't BIRTH OF A NATION s'posed to be just that, though considering just how much the final half hour or so of each of these films do have a striking similarity I can see just how Miz Kael could be forgiven for a momentary lapse of memory along with the usual taste.

But since I am so angered by the current state of affairs myself to be about "this close" (forefinger and thumb spread one mm. apart or at the most the average penis size of your typical rock blogger [not me!] for that matter) to joining the Falange, maybe I would be more suited to seeing a "fascist work of art" in any form than I would the usual neo-communist dribble so in vogue. And believe-it-or-leave-it, but STRAW DOGS is just "thee" film to sate my raging soul...in fact, I would call STRAW DOGS the feel good movie of this or any year because it's such a torrential downpour of great and pure Amerigan violence that always sent the Werthams of this world running away faster than waving an EC comic at 'em. And given the sad sack state of entertainment affairs (films/television as a tool of the know-betters) maybe more people should be exposed to this sort of "fascism" lest we all turn into a nation of feelgoods whose only choices in life are mind-numbing panacea on one hand and dulloid decadence on the other.

What else can I say but this film is a pure "masterpiece" and given that it has an exemplary cast (Dustin Hoffman smack dab in the middle of his "New Hollywood" stardom, the eye-popping Susan George [nice looking gal and she ain't even Japanese!] and a buncha English locos who seem to have been cast at the nearby pub) and of course director Sam Peckinpah at the height of his pow'rs who could deny that STRAW DOGS bravely railed against all of that humanist ca-ca that was being forced down our throats at the time! For the uninitiated, Hoffman stars as David Sumner, a milksoppish mathematician who is taking a sabbatical from some college (during the height of "student unrest" as they used to say) in order to write an undoubtedly brainy and boring textbook. Tired of the violence that has torn apart late-sixties/early-seventies Ameriga he and his girlish/braless hot potato of a wife Amy (Susan George) show up in her old Cornish hometown expecting the peace and quiet they certainly couldn't get in the US of Whoa unless they were living in Sharon or something, only instead of a harmonious existence straight outta some PBS britcom they get harassed by the local workmen who are supposed to be fixing up their ancient abode but spend their time goofing off at the local pub. Of course it doesn't help things out with little girl tease Amy going around topless in plain view of the workers (a scene which prompted none other than Handsome Dick Manitoba in the pages of TEENAGE WASTELAND GAZETTE to exclaim that he'd "like to pop [his] tart in her toaster") but before long David and Amy start finding things like their cat hanging in the closet by the light cord while Amy gets a particularly heavy-handed come on from her old flame who she gave some to long ago and now he wants seconds.

OK, I gotta admit that the first half of this film does drag a bit, but the slow-burn dragginess of the thing helps build up to the can-you-take-it climax. David the ever-pacifist acts more like the patented early-seventies Dustin Hoffman did in all of those other "Youth Films" he was doing at the time being hip and sincere trying to coddle the local toughs who invite him out for a day of quail hunting while the old boyfriend and later on the psycho gang leader sneak back to the abode to rape Amy...and the fact that the old boyfriend's "encounter" is eventually accepted as consensual (talk about "He Hit Me and it Felt Like a Kiss"!) still rankles a lotta ire amongst feminists out there! Even that doesn't seem to get to the spiritual weakling David (who reminds me more of the guy in that Charles Atlas ad who gets sand kicked in his face), but only after a good hour-and-a-half of indignations upon intimidations does the proverbial worm of a man finally turn (leading to one of the best raging orgasmic frenzies of violence seen in a long time) when the thugs demand that David hand over the village idiot he has been harboring. Y'see, said idiot had just strangled the local teen tease (Amy ten years earlier?) and when the badskis advance upon David's property to demand that said idiot (who had earlier been hit by David's car) be turned over to them for a right royal whipping does Sumner suddenly change from Dagwood Bumstead to Mr. A defending home and property (while roughing up Amy herself when she starts losing her own nerve) and killing all the potential lynchers in the process. And you can bet that for a pacifist he sure kills 'em in a particularly bloody way, perhaps getting rid of years of pent-up frustration no doubt! The inner tension the first 90 minutes of this film sorta squirts out like a festering pimple onto the bathroom mirror not only with a foot shot off (which I assume is fatal since we don't see the foot's owner for the rest of the film!), but a pan of hot acid in the face, a poker to the skull, gunshot blasts and even a bear trap neck scrunch not only paying back for the previous few years of ALICE'S RESTAURANT-styled fare but the entire sixties hippie trip! No wonder the flower child leftovers avoided this one like the plague, but for me this only seems like the logical conclusion.

I dunno how much STRAW DOGS took in at the box office...I assume it did some respectable business, but one thing's for certain and that is the heavy duty violent aspect of this film (along with DIRTY HARRY and A CLOCKWORK ORANGE) sure helped wean Amerigan moviegoers off the sexual moosh that was overtaking the cinematic arts during those "now film" days. In a few years, once people wanted to forget about the Vietnam War for good and the peace "vibes" of the early-seventies began leading the way towards the healthy suspicion of the middle portion of that decade, violence and cynicism would be the wave at least until the Carter era put wholesome bung back on the map. Films like TAXI DRIVER, ROLLING THUNDER, MACON COUNTY LINE and especially THE DAY OF THE LOCUST made up for the previous hip complacency in Hollywood with some mighty fine hard-edged sourness that sure stood for better cinema than the entire STAR WARS brouhaha, and if only the place would forget its narcissic self-centered candycoat and get back to the bared-wire intensity of flicks like STRAW DOGS will we have a fine future of heavy-duty cinematic madness to look forward to 'stead of the hideous blanditude that's covered the clime for seemingly eons on end awlready.

AS A NEW DAWN AT BLOG TO COMM APPROACHES...

Hey! Since Sunday is the Lord's Day and He sez that it's OK to goof off even if you do so every other one, I thought I'd do myself a favor and peck out a traditional weekend posting on Saturday evening rather'n the usual Sunday afternoon and throw a whole buncha monkey wrenches into your schedules rather'n mine! True, Sunday PM is usually the most gulcherally-barren time in a person's life when there isn't anything worthwhile to do other'n a coupla weblog posts or stare at the ceiling (oh how I miss the Golden Age of flea markets and garage sales when boffo fifties/sixties gulcher was being tossed off to starved kiddies like myself and at ultra-bargain prices t' boot!), but I figure why should I do tomorrow what I can do tonight and sorta loosen things up for the more important things in life, like digging through my 25+ year collection of fanzines for worthwhile reading material while listing to some heavy duty rockism-approved sounds to back the high energy wordage up! So feel lucky that you're getting your little tidbit of much-needed blogism slightly earlier'n usual even if I'm sure this early post'll throw your entire body clock off worse'n the time change that'll come late October.

And I'm sure you've noticed the striking new layout on this here blog which (as the title of this particular posting will attest to) certainly ushers in a new era of blogging here at BTC!!! So far the votes re. this new blog look are two for and one against, the "yays" seemingly liking the new artzy style while the sole "nay" sez that the blog now looks totally sissy/yuppie which makes me oooh so mad! If I see whoever wrote that nasty thing, you can be sure I'll hit him with my purse! All kidding aside, the reasons I changed the look of my blog are manyfold...first off I wanted to get rid of that weird computer garble that was seemingly permantly stuck at the bottom of each page, secondly I wanted easier access to old (and still needy!) blogposts (as well as the option to link up BLOG TO COMM-approved sites and other sundries on the lefthand column, something which may happen as soon as I get into the swing o' things) and thirdly, I wanted a blog where it was easier for even the stoopidest nimnul to post a comment as well as for people to see how many fellow fans 'n enemies have commented on certain posts just like the rest of those classy blogs out there in notice me land. And believe-it-or-not, but I heartily urge you to comment away to your heart's content if you so desire, and although blogmeister me has to approve every comment that comes my way feel assured that I will let just about any remark that comes my way through, with the proud knowledge that on my own turf I am guaranteed the LAST WORD/LAUGH! So as they used to say, comment away, numbskulls! Let me know what YOU (lower-caste peon you may be) think of this NEW look here at BLOG TO COMM and don't be ashamed to let your opinions be known...after all, I already think you're a doof anyway!!!!

All kidding aside, let's move onto the meatier portion of the blog, mainly the music! And frankly there's not much to report on here because like I said awhile back I've been pinching the pennies as of late and haven't been dragging in the hard-to-find treasures that I usually wax rhapsodic about on this webpage. However, knowing that you readers have tuned in not to hear any of my lame excuses as to why there haven't been any nice yet pricey items winging their way to my door but to read about ROCK & ROLL I decided to pull a few turds outta the toilet and comment on a couple of older items I've had in my collection for quite some time yet probably have not written about on this blog or even the pages of my own desirable fanzine for that matter. But whatever, I'm sure reading about these goodies is a lot more fantastic that staring at a blank screen, although I'm sure a few nogoodniks out there would think otherwise...

Anyway, first on the itinerary are a buncha Cee-Dees that were burnt for me by a Mr. JB of Los Angeles California. I previously remarked to Mr. B that the reason I haven't written about the items he sent me earlier last summer was because the disques in question were having a difficult if impossible time playing on my computer (main form of Cee-Dee playing these days because I can listen whilst browsing!). I also informed Mr. B that if I were to give his wares a good listenin' to I would have to play 'em in the automobile and take a nice long spin at that to allow me enough time, and so, using the patented Stigliano beanie, I did just that and took an extended car trip to Lima Ohio and back, and boy did I give those disques a good in-depth aural scouring in the meanwhile even if I wasted a good three quarters of a tank especially in these OPEC-saturated times.

Anyway, the disques in question were that of Milk 'n Cookies, the legendary yet oft-ignored New York pop rock band whose sole album has been recently re-released on Cee-Dee and reviewed by yours truly here (scroll down as they say) in case you're interested. These recordings were made at some live shows that took place at the famed (and soon to expire) beer dive CBGB during late-'75/early-'76, right around the time when underground rock (read: local/garage/punk/street/original music) was coming into its own, thus sparking a rising tide of new, rough-hewn groups who were making an incredible indent/racket with obvious ties to the mid-sixties who somehow got ignored and reviled by the public at large proving you can fool all the people all the time! Believe-you-me, with all of the high-energy talent and post-Velvet Underground drone that was oozing forth from not only New York City but other burghs in the country and world at the time you woulda thought that newspapers and television stations would've been rushing to cover the clatter and deliver it straight to the front porches of Mr. and Mrs. Ameriga but...unfortunately the people in charge at the time were too far stuck in the peace and love wet dream of the sixties (you know, BILLY JACK rather than Warhol) to pay attention, and some of you wonder why I'm such a crank about this chicanery badmouthing willing accomplices like Anastasia Pantsios every chance I can get! Well, you would too if you were reading the PLAIN DEALER FRIDAY MAGAZINE and hadda put up with Pantsios' tepid appreciation of the dull Cleveland mainstream whilst lying/distorting the truth about the underground pow'r that was going on at the time!

Back to my story...I really gotta say that I enjoy these platters because frankly, Milk 'n Cookies actually sound better here than they do on their album! Of course that same live aura that has made plenty of recordings from clubs such as CBGB and Max's Kansas City back in those portable cassette days pops up here...maybe it's the raw urgency of the thing or just the "typically teenage" yet firmly underground performances, but I sure get the high energy thrill of it all filtered down through my car speakers when I play this the same way I still get chills and excitement when I play a lotta these tapes that I have clinging in my collection...even those early three-piece Talking Heads tapes I have sound boffo even though we all know what a buncha artistes they turned out to be! New York thirtysome years ago was a place to be, and it was all because of groups like Milk 'n Cookies who knew how to do what they were doing (mainly, post-glam pop with the right touch of punk) in a world that on one hand was begging for a new hook, yet on the other was too self-saturated and vain to accept rock & roll in its purest, most primal state. Maybe someday someone will release these tapes along with a whole slew of other mid-seventies New York rarities, but you know that when they do all this stuff will have passed on to the public domain and have little relevance to anything other than a buncha old guys drooling over some recently-discovered tape at the old rockism home. Now I know how all those Big Band maniacs feel getting hold of rare recordings of sixty-plus-year-old Glenn Miller airchecks thinking that it might as well have happened a zillion years ago as far as most people care!

Not much else to blab about music-wise. Still listening to a lotta the older stuff that has been written about over and over again on the blog and in the fanzine, and of course the DICK TRACY mags that I've dug out last post have gotten me back into a comic strip frame of mind and searching out even more thirties-vintage TRACY goodies. In the meanwhile, I came across a few of those late-thirties reprint books (which started popping out in the early-eighties and were plentifold when the Warren Beatty movie came out in '90), mostly a buncha direct reprints of the early TRACY comic books which were a good source of contemporary strips even if they were slightly edited (mostly panels indirectly related to the story) and omit the Sunday strips en toto which can make the stories difficult to follow at times...still, edited TRACY is better than no TRACY and even if, as I've said, these late-thirties sagas merely point to the strip's tension-packed height in the forties, they sure do a good job at it meaning...rather than seeing somebody get shot through the head once every other week you see it once every other month, but anyway it's nice to see that Tracy at least had good aim that early in the game!

Hey, since I couldn't download the Milk 'n Cookies pic I wanted to (and didn't want this post to be wordage only given its boffo new look), I thought I'd present for your edification a pic I was given and make a little contest ("competition" for you overseas readers) out of it! Here's a snap taken from the McKinley Junior High yearbook circa. 1964. Whoever can identify VON LMO in this photo and is the first to do so gets a special prize (hint: it's something I have in stock and try selling to you unaware readers with blatant come ons and links even although nobody out there seems to ever take the bait!). Anyway, get to it you budding Sherlocks out there, and see if you can not only strengthen your own egos, but help me unload a fanzine or two in the process! (Not that you need many clues, since if you "click" the pic you'll get a larger version of it with a readable legend as well! C'mon...even HELEN KELLER could figure this one out!!!)

HIGH SIX!

Sorry that I've neglected a midweek posting a li'l sooner, but y'see I was having way too much fun celebratin' as I'm sure y'all will unnerstan'. All kiddin' aside, here's a high six yer way detailin' some of the gulcherally significant things that are making my life a little more worthwhile and who knows, maybe they will brighten up yours too if you'll only get yer nose plumb outta the sphincters of way too many navel-gazing arbitors of the new kultur amerindie blogschpielers out there, that is.

1) James Finn Quartet-GREAT SPIRIT CD (Not Two)

OK, once you get'cher eyes offa the picture of the purty gal on this particular post, just stick your orbs back into their sockets and mosey your way down to the review of this under-looked tenor saxist's presumably only release and maybe you'll know why I've been returning to this neo-avant (to coin a phrase) Cee-Dee time and time again. Really grand post-Coltrane sputter with a great backing band keeping a tradition while not falling into a rut, but you can read alla that in the original review, savvy?

2) Les Rallizes Denudes-GREAT WHITE WONDER 4-CD set (Univive)

Mysterious (yet silver-pressed for a change) box set of some Denudes rarities (probably op by the time you read this) ranging from the heavily-productive years of '69 until '77 which certainly were hot shot times for this still can't-believe-they-ever-existed Japanese underground rock band. Quality is good in that portable recorder way that somehow exemplifies the group's primal characteristics (I find '80s/'90s Denudes tapes to be rather disturbing in their clarity as well as audience clatter), and you got me as to why Univive would name this questionable-legality release after the first ever rock bootleg unless they want to draw some truly hidden meaning outta their particular choice of words, but I'd still get it even if they called the thing DROPPING THE BOMB ON AGONY SHORTHAND!

3) DICK TRACY-THE PURPLE CROSS GANG PARTS ONE AND TWO (9/21/36 to 3/7/37) by Chester Gould (softcover books published by Pacific Comics Club, 2002)

Not having read any DICK TRACY reprints since getting my hands on the bone-chilling Flattop Jr. collection a few years back, it sure was a nice change of diapers finding these two recently-reproed TRACY volumes lolling about on the shelves. Being a guy who has become a classic on/off Chester Gould-era TRACY fan o'er the years (heck, I'll even glom the oft-loathed Moon Maid/tough on crime strips which almost everyone out there considered dullsville!) it's always good to get back into the TRACY groove once in awhile whether it be latching onto some relative newies like these or scouring my vast assortment of DICK TRACY MONTHLIES/WEEKLIES that I have stored in a plastic box somewhere in the abode. And these two books are no turdburgers either...although done a few years before the TRACY Golden Age (roughly the forties until the early-sixties, the days of the ultra-grotesque villians and nerve-shattering climaxes coupled with an extreme violence that seems totally verboten in today's wee-wee saturated society) they still deliver the thrill-chill goodies with a bared-wire intensity, in many ways foreshadowing the total madness and hardcore gore that would envelop the strip within a few short years. (And if I'm correct, weren't those the years when women's groups and ministers were taking up collections to have Gould committed with his near-nauseating depictions of burnt corpses and dead bodies lying in pools of blood???)

These stories also show that, as the rumor went, Chester Gould was making up the storylines/plot devices as he was goin' along (!) since the continuity seems a little, er, wobbly unless there was something printed beyond this particular saga that tied all the loose ends up (which I doubt). Por Ejemplo...the rich kid who is captured at the beginning of the story and blabs to Tracy about the criminal Secret Society known as the Purple Cross Gang (no, not another of Lou Rone's old bands!) is convienently forgotten afterwards (I believe he pops back into the picture a short time later, but I'll hafta do some research on that), while a member of the gang who wants to go straight for the sake of his little girl is not pursued by Tracy (who suddenly has a strange metanoia uncharacteristic of the man, perhaps softened by the CHRISTMAS CAROLS he was hearing while tailing the guy!) only to get nabbed later on when Tracy suddenly reverts to his old self in due time. It is strange, because Gould had been building up this particular character in such a sympathetic light that even YOU the unsuspecting reader feel a bit shaken up when Tracy captures the man and starts taunting him with electric chair jibes!

4) CAN'T BUY A THRILL #3 fanzine (Winter 1976-1977 issue edited and published by Russell Desmond)

I've got almost all of my CAN'T BUY A THRILL fanzines packed up in boxes meaning I can't just latch onto a copy with any relative ease when I need to do some mid-seventies rock reference work or just plain ol' read something while settling down during the evening hours. However, I am able to dish out my copy of issue #3 mainly because it was printed on oversize paper and thusly doesn't fit fair and square with the earlier normally proportioned ones. And it's a good thing too because CAN'T BUY A THRILL #3 is a classic slice of just about everything that was RIGHT with not only seventies fanzinedom, but seventies rock-related writing as well with this great intellecto-punk style that even """""I""""" couldn't recreate though I've been seemingly trying for a million years. This ish not only features a rundown of the best and worst of '76 (I still get a kick outta the reference to "Peter Tampon" [Frampton] this far down the line!) but plenty of cool rockism refs and reviews of the latest rock rabble from the Flamin' Groovies, Jonathan Richman, the Ramones and Jefferson Starship (even Artful Dodger get a writeup where they're compared to Big Star!) on down through Danish import Gasolin and loads of other magazine/TV/movie stuff which shows ya that even punk-intellectuals can kick up their feet in front of the boob tube 'n enjoy themselves. Of course there's a lotta that really snide, vulgar and rude seventies fanzine craftsmanship evident here that would make more'n few "enlightened" moderne-day pantywaists cry "racist" but I personally happen to know that Desmond ain't one and you know that his detractors (as well as mine) wouldn't even cross the street to help a member of a minority who was hit by a car so don't you go actin' all HIGH AND MIGHTY!!!! I haven't heard from Desmond ever since the big hurricane hit his home of New Orleans last year, though frankly I must admit that I'm kinda scared to discover the truth...call me chicken, but SOMEDAY I'll get the gumption up to write him a note to see how he's doin'. Until then, if you wanna know more about Desmond and his brainkiddie why don't you scarf up a copy of BLACK TO COMM #24 'n read the entire unexpurgated saga fer yerself!

5) HELP! MAGAZINE (May and September 1965 issues)

These popped up while I was searching through boxes so's I could gather up alls my oversized comic magazines into one place and in the process figured why not take a nice long break and read the things 'stead of doing hard work especially on my day off! Lurching towards the end of Harvey Kurtzman's longest-running editorial position, these later HELP!s continue on their usual witty post-MAD ways despite the absense of once-regulars Bill Elder and Jack Davis. Naturally there's a heavy reliance not only on fumettis but loads of comic art contributed by the future underground standbys who warped their minds on the original MAD a good thirteen years earlier. Heck, even R. Crumb can be seen lurking around in a fumetti saga featuring a Greg Prevost lookalike who goes to a wild party in search of shakes and gets delivered a funnier punchline than the usual boy with long hair gets mistaken for girl jokes being spouted at the time! Oddly enough, John Cleese appears in May's "Christopher's Punctured Romance" as a frazzled adman who becomes enamored by his daughter's "Barbee" doll (the fact that Terry Gilliam was HELP!'s art director at the time and contributing biting satire along the lines of "Buster, Have You Ever Stomped a Nigra?" [a KKK manual spoof that perhaps only THE REALIST coulda gotten away with at the time] of course hasn't gone unnoticed), and if anything you could say that HELP! throughout its entire run was not only the missing link between MAD and NATIONAL LAMPOON as many have surmised, but the spiritual father to both WITZEND and ARCADE with its combination outrage and homage to early comic greats all mooshed together into one nice read for beyond the toilet!

(And how could I forget mentioning Steve Allen's high-larious "Question Man" article, the "Question Man" being one of Allen's old TONIGHT SHOW characters later blatently ripped off by Johnny Carson as "The Great Carnac"! [Some real belly laughs are apparent here such as these gems---"Answer": "Daisy Mae"; "Question": "Do you think Daisy will?" or especially "Answer": "A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou"; "Question": "What's on a cannibal's menu?"---REAL GUFFAW MATERIAL, DONTCHA THINK???] Now I gotta admit that I'm not nor have ever been a big fan of Allen, but these "Question Man" gags got me laughin' harder'n anything that Comedy Central would dare to air 'n y'know why??? They're funny! Now how about that!)

6) JUSTIN RAIMONDO'S LATEST COLUMN

This former High Six winner delivers another salvo that wows me to no end as Raimondo sometimes does, and although my site ain't exactly a politically-oriented blog (nor am I a political person) I was somehow overcome by it enough to be moved to something after reading the man's particular views which amazingly enough mirror my own, so he must be smart, right?

LATE-BREAKING NEWS!

CHRISTMAS COMES EARLY THIS YEAR! Of course there may be a new modus operandi for Jay down the line and it ain't like he's dying or anything, but personally I do consider this a triumph of sorts.

WEAK UPDATE!

After shooting my load with the past two posts all I gotta say is that I honestly don't have that much to lay down for you eager beaver BLOG TO COMM followers this Sunday morn. I've been pinching the pennies a little tighter'n usual so I must confess that I don't have any real new offerings to write about in a vain attempt to somehow validify my life to people I don't even know, and I don't think you're actually champing at the bit to read over and over again about some of the oldies but moldies that have been getting spun here at the BLOG TO COMM HQ in the interim, right? (However, at least one of my current faveraves will be sneaking its way into the following postschpiel, dontcha worry!) And not only that, but I never received my copy of STRAW DOGS (a film that has been on my gotta watch list for quite some time) from some shifty ebay dealer and thus have initiated an inquiry into the matter, which is why you won't be seeing a review of that famed explosion of violent frenzy for quite some time. (Though I might just dish out for the Criterion edition of this still-controversial film, at least after I get back some of the moolah spent on producing a load of fanzines back during the days of my misspent youth, that is.)

I will say this, and that is that one thing that has been lighting a fire underneath my buttocks as of this past week has been the Rock's Back Pages site that Lindsay Hutton hipped us all to a short while back. Hutton ain't no mutton, and being a fellow who's starved for the finer things in life (mainly high-energy rockscribe ideasplurt from the fanzine Golden Age as well as classy rockist brainiac musings from the general Golden Age of Rock Criticism, both of which incidentally coincided) I actually dished out fifty smackers for a year's subscription to the site and have not winced yet. Whatcha get here's a load of pertinent (to the BLOG TO COMM mindset) rock writing to choose from and while there's a lot missing (mainly rare fanzine quips and quibbles) and plenty of dross (too much moderne-day wisenheimering you can read for free elsehwere, if you wanted to) you still get enough of the good gunch from classic NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS ranting and ravings (Mick Farren on Hawkwind's '74 US tour, early Roxy Music rah-rahs) to some "how'd I miss that???" obscurities from the likes of Lenny Kaye's review of the first Stooges disque in FUSION and all of those rare Metal Mike Saunders pieces I've been yearning to read for EONS only I hadda go'n pay big bucks for old SHAKIN' STREET GAZETTEs before finding this site! But it's nice to have access to Rock's Back Pages anyway and y'know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna copy all of the articles and reviews that fit in with my own horse-blindered appreciation of what rock & roll music is (mainly writeups of albums and groups utilizing a lotsa Velvet Underground comparisons laid down by longtime BLOG TO COMM approved faves amongst others) and put 'em in a big binder which I will title A HEAPING LOAD OF REVIEWS WITH NEAT INSIDE REFERENCES TO THE VELVET UNDERGROUND AND OTHER THINGS THAT AFFIX THEMSELVES TO MY HORSE-BLINDERED VIEW OF WHAT ROCK & ROLL IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL ABOUT and I'll stick it on the shelf next to TWENTY MINUTE FANDANGOS AND FOREVER CHANGES, THE ROCK REVOLUTION and all those other rockism reads that soothe my senses after being inundated with too many moderne-type blogblurts dealing with "crucial" and "relevant" eighties underground music I long-ditched. But then again, aligning yourself with a total Trotskyite comsymp like Christopher Hitchens (not forgetting that li'l Dutch shite Theo Van Gogh) will do "something" to a fellow's so-called "libertarian" (more like "neocon") outlook on life and music as well as other things, eh Jay? At least you know my head's on straight with my frequent namedropping of the REAL mavericks of today like Pat Buchanan, Sam Francis (rip), Paul Craig Roberts, Justin Raimondo and CHRONICLES magazine...COMRADE!!!

Anyway,the recent arrival of Rock's Back Pages into my life has inadvertently caused me to do at least one surprisingly change-of-rut thing in my life, and that is to re-reevaluate none other than the fourth Amon Duul II album entitled CARNIVAL IN BABYLON (check out this blog...there's a review of it here somewhere...). Being a fellow who pretty much ditched that disque in favor of the following WOLF CITY (which I thought had more of a teutonic putsch to it), I've decided to give the platter yet another turn after reading a review of WOLF CITY by Wayne Robins (a critic whom I could take or leave...he's OK but not gonzoid or anything) in the pages of a '73 issue of CREEM I don't even own (!) and y'know, amidst all of the slick seventies references to kraut porno chainthrills that you would've expected in CREEM at the time came an assessment of the band and the album which, although unfavorable to WOLF CITY, was more or less positive to its predecessor calling it "punk rock Stravinsky." Since such out-there terminologies always seemed to strike me in a positive, rockism-assuring way (especially when spouted from a pre-punk point-of-view as opposed to in a pUnQUe cheapo commercial fashion) I naturally started digging my copy from out and under and y'know what? CARNIVAL IN BABYLON really is a fine and dandy punk rock of an early-seventies variety album that, despite the obvious references to '67 San Francisco pre-noodle, still ranks as a pretty good platter that would've snuggled nicely asides your Stooges and NUGGETS albums, given you were into punkism record collecting at the time! It, as do all the early Amon Duul II records, comes highly recommended for those of you looking for a little switch from the standard grind of things (but just a "little" switch, remember!).

Maybe when something lights a bigger fire in my shorts I'll pop off another post your way. Until then, how about playing one of the great platters mentioned in the previous post of 100 ALBUMS THAT JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE NEVER HEARD OF with none other than me in mind! It would be fitting!

THIS LIST OF 100 TOP ALBUMS ACTUALLY PUT HAIR ON MY CHEST (and it can do the same for you, Ann Powers!)




OK, ignore the adolescent glee found in the above, for this here's a list (an idea I swiped from an internet rival of mine whom I loathe in order to one up him which isn't hard to do) consisting of the 100 bestest albums (rock 'n otherwise w/an emphasis on the former) that truly made me the beloved blogger of reknown that I am and shall remain despite the efforts of a few sanctimonious pudges out there. Really, each and every one of these albums (all from the age of vinyl with only one-non-LP release [a cassette-only affair from '86, still within the confines of the plastic age albeit a bit late]) are recordings that had me jumping up and down with umbridled joy when I'd obsessively spin them repeatedly night after night for weeks on end, and in sharing my faves with you I can only hope that YOU TOO will become the lunatic I was and make a fool of yourselves in your fart-encrusted bedrooms considering how you want to emulate me to the fullest! Argue and bicker if you will (you know where to comment!), but this is definitely the best (and most impartial!) listing of albums that have created the BLOG TO COMM o-mind-geared gulcher that we all revel in, and any complaints to the contrary would be pure blasphemy, dontcha think (but go ahead, comment and be prepared to be shot down!). The labels listed below do not necessarily indicate the US version of these discs but of the items in question which are wallowing in the serenity of my collection (perhaps).

1) THE VELVET UNDERGROUND AND NICO (Verve)
2) Pink Floyd-THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN (British version) (EMI/Columbia)
3) THE STOOGES (Electra)
4) Various Artists-NUGGETS (Sire)
5) Brian Sands-REHEATED CHOCOLATE TANGOES (Bizart)
6) Various Artists-NO NEW YORK (Antilles)
7) The Stooges-FUNHOUSE (Electra)
8) Von Lmo-FUTURE LANGUAGE (Strazar)
9) YOKO ONO/PLASTIC ONO BAND (Apple)
10) Albert Ayler-BELLS (ESP-Disk)
11) The Deviants-PTOOFF! (Sire)
12) SUICIDE (Red Star)
13) THE NEW YORK DOLLS (Mercury)
14) Eno-HERE COME THE WARM JETS (Island)
15) The Pink Fairies-WHAT A BUNCH OF SWEETIES (Polydor)
16) Amon Duul II-PHALLUS DEI (Liberty)
17) T. Rex-ELECTRIC WARRIOR (Reprise)
18) The Stooges-RAW POWER (Columbia)
19) Hawkwind-DOREMI FASOL LATIDO (United Artists)
20) Various Artists-LIVE AT CBGB'S (Atlantic)
21) Pere Ubu-THE MODERN DANCE (Blank)
22) DUST (Kama Sutra)
23) MX-80 Sound-OUT OF THE TUNNEL (Ralph)
24) THE RAMONES (Sire)
25) Hackamore Brick-ONE KISS LEADS TO ANOTHER (Kama Sutra)
26) The Velvet Underground-WHITE LIGHT/WHITE HEAT (Verve)
27) Patti Smith-HORSES (Arista)
28) Robert Calvert-CAPTAIN LOCKHEED AND THE STARFIGHTERS (United Artists)
29) THE FABULOUS WAILERS (Golden Crest)
30) Iggy and the Stooges-METALLIC KO (Skydog)
31) The Flamin' Groovies-SHAKE SOME ACTION (Sire)
32) Amon Duul-PARADIESWARTS DUUL (Ohr)
33) Big Brother and the Holding Company-CHEAP THRILLS (Columbia)
34) THE DICTATORS GO GIRL CRAZY (Epic)
35) The Droogs-KINGDOM DAY (PVC)
36) PEBBLES VOLUME 3: THE ACID GALLERY (BFD)
37) Cecil Taylor-NEFERTITI, THE BEAUTIFUL ONE HAS COME (Arista/Freedom)
38) PETER LAUGHNER (Coolie)
39) WILDFLOWERS VOLUMES 1 THROUGH FIVE (Douglas) (OK, this should count as five entries but they work as such a cohesive whole, and for cohesive holes as well!)
40) Black Sabbath-PARANOID (Vertigo)
41) Alice Cooper-KILLER (Warner Brothers)
42) The Thirteenth Floor Elevators-EASTER EVERYWHERE (Drop Out)
43) ROXY MUSIC (Reprise)
44) MC5-KICK OUT THE JAMS (Electra)
45) THE FUGS FIRST ALBUM (ESP-Disk)
46) Simply Saucer-CYBORGS REVISITED (Mole)
47) THE MODERN LOVERS (Berzerkley)
48) Tony Williams Lifetime-EMERGENCY (Verve)
49) Lou Reed-METAL MACHINE MUSIC (RCA)
50) Stan Freberg-A CHILD'S GARDEN OF FREBERG (Capitol)
51) Can-MONSTER MOVIE (Spoon)
52) Various Artists-BACK FROM THE GRAVE VOLUME ONE (Crypt)
53) The Mothers of Invention-WEASELS RIPPED MY FLESH (Bizarre/Reprise)
54) The Velvet Underground-LOADED (Cotillion)
55) O-TYPE (Quadruped)
56) Alice Cooper-LOVE IT TO DEATH (Straight/Warner Brothers)
57) INTRODUCING THE SONICS (a.k.a. ORIGINAL NORTHWEST PUNK) (Jerden/First American)
58) Kim Fowley-ANIMAL GOD OF THE STREETS (Skydog)
59) The Flamin' Groovies-TEENAGE HEAD (Kama Sutra)
60) John Fahey-BREAKDOWNS, DEATH CHANTS AND MILITARY WALTZES (Takoma)
61) Sparks-PROPAGANDA (Island)
62) The Dictators-BLOODBROTHERS (Asylum)
63) John Coltrane-ASCENSION (Impulse)
64) The Velvet Underground-SWEET SISTER RAY (no label)
65) The Who-WHO'S ZOO (TMOQ)
66) John Cale/Terry Riley-CHURCH OF ANTHRAX (CBS)
67) The Byrds-FIFTH DIMENSION (Columbia)
68) FAIRPORT CONVENTION (Polydor)
69) THE SIDEWINDERS (RCA)
70) Brian Eno-DISCREET MUSIC (Obscure)
71) MX-80 Sound-CROWD CONTROL (Ralph)
72) Zappa/Beefheart-CONFIDENTIAL (Wizardo)
73) Kevin Ayers-JOY OF A TOY (Harvest)
74) Patti Smith Group-RADIO ETHIOPIA (Arista)
75) The Red Crayola-THE PARABLE OF ARABLE LAND (Radar)
76) Bob Dylan-ROYAL ALBERT HALL (TMOQ)
77) Be-Bop Deluxe-FUTURAMA (Harvest)
78) The Zantees-OUT FOR KICKS (Bomp)
79) Hawkwind-SPACE RITUAL (United Artists)
80) Unholy Modal Rounders/Michael Hurley etc.-HAVE MOICY! (Rounder)
81) The Plastic People of the Universe-EGON BONDY'S HAPPY HEARTS CLUB BANNED (Bozi Myln)
82) Amon Duul-DISASTER (BASF)
83) David Bowie-LOW (RCA)
84) NEU! (Germanofon)
85) MAX'S KANSAS CITY VOLUME ONE (Ram)
86) Link Wray-MISSING LINKS VOLUMES ONE THROUGH FOUR (Norton)
87) The Styrenes-GIRL CRAZY (Mustard)
88) SADISTIC MIKA BAND (US version) (Harvest)
89) Chrome-HALF MACHINE LIP MOVES (Siren)
90) Red Krayola-GOD BLESS THE RED KRAYOLA AND ALL WHO SAIL WITH IT (Radar)
91) MOBY GRAPE (Date)
92) Sun Ra-IT'S AFTER THE END OF THE WORLD (MPS/BASF)
93) Various Artists-SUBTERANNEAN MODERN (side two only) (Ralph)
94) John Lennon and Yoko Ono-UNFINISHED MUSIC NUMBER TWO-LIFE WITH THE LIONS (Zapple)
95) MONTAGE (Laurie)
96) THE RASPBERRIES (Capitol)
97) Sonny Sharrock-MONKEY-POCKIE-BOO (Affinity)
98) Tyrannosaurus Rex-A BEGINNING (A&M)
99) Sparks-KIMONO MY HOUSE (Island)
100) Kraftwerk-AUTOBAHN (Vertigo)

The Industrial Jazz Group-HARD CORE CD (Ugly Rug)

Y'know, I wouldn't be taking the imminent demise of CBGB so hard if I hadn't been in touch with their three performing stages thanks to the miracle of cybercasting. But no, I hadda go upscale in the world and more or less re-acquaint myself with the vast array of musical styles (some good, most sucky) that are traipsing around the alternative muzak world, and whaddya know but I got HOOKED. So, thinking of a future where there's no CBGB and thus nothing to tune into on some lonesome evening when even the records ain't curing the blahs seems pretty bleak indeed. Sure most of the time there was nothing to choose from other'n some alternative mewl or folkie whine, but when the energy was being brandished about the whole place seemed to be on the brink of total eruption!

However, as I've said, perhaps my favorite CBGB moments o'er the past half-decade of tuning in have been the live avant garde jazz shows that were going down at the CBGB Lounge on Sunday/Wednesday nights. True they had a number of less 'n appealing acts there but then again the aforementioned eruption was more'n likely to have happened during one of the many great avant-jazz sets featuring the legendary alongsides the nobodies, and since I couldn't name for you a truly duff act to have played the Freestyle Series (now taking place at Jimmy's Restaurant) off the top of my thinned-out head that must PROVE that the entire shebang had a whole lot more good going for it than bad! Anyway, I only have to thank Dee Pop for his hard work and effort getting all of those great bands and long-ignored acts onto the stage of the lounge, not only helping out a lotta deserving avant meisters but adding fuel to my own mad musical obsessions in the process!

Anyway, I remember when this El Lay-based jazz act was front and center for the CBGB Lounge stage sometime before Hilly Kristel asked Pop to vacate the premises in a vain attempt to drum up public support for the place with a lotta high-profile shows. Personally I don't see how anything can be more high profile than brain-searing avant jazz, but I guess Hilly knew what he was doing. Anyway, I believe I decided not to tune in the Industrial Jazz Group after I read on the web somewhere that they seemed to owe a lot to the Zappa UNCLE MEAT sound which I gotta say ain't lighting my fire even when done by various krautrock jazzsters, and judging from their debut CD I don't think I missed that much given this band's meshing of mid-fifties West Coast cool jazzster roots with tads of avant sprinkle here/there and of course the large freak quotient that might have satisfied me in my mid-teens but seems like old hat unless old hands like Captain Beefheart are doing the mangling. Maybe I'm mis-judging them (I have done that on ultra-rare occasions) and I gotta say that there is a lotta merit to the Industrial Jazz Group sound, but like Bill Shute once told me ages back, "Why would anybody want to listen to Jim Morrison after they've heard Kim Fowley?" And after hearing a whole slew of modern day avant music that has been documented at the Freestyle Series I dunno why anyone would wanna listen to this! Oh well, it'll probably soak in one of these days. Ask me in a year.

MORE ON McGUIRE: having the luxury of my own internet weblog has guaranteed me at least one thing, and that is that more people have the potential to come in contact with my works via the web than they do through the printed matter, which of course is fine and dandy in its own form and transcends the computer screen on many an occasion, but the plain unmitigated FACT that there's now a bigger potential for me to find out about obscure bands that I've longed to know about for years or perhaps get in touch with former fanzine moguls surely sends thrills down my spine. That's why I was certainly buzzed when I got a little missive from a fellow who, having tuned into my Wayne McGuire post (a writeup that I must admit I'm very PROUD of), actually 'fesses up to that fact that he actually knew the guy and has allowed me to print (anonymously) his personal recollections which you can easily enough read below. Anyway, thanks must go to the email-writer who has helped clear up at least a little bit of the mystery surrounding McGuire although many questions do remain...like what did Wayne look like, and what books and magazines did he read and what records laid about in his collection as well as many more pertinent points that'll surely hit the grey matter as time rolls by. Anyway, read on for some interesting revelatory facts:

i 1st met him working at the Paperback Booksmith warehouse in the late 60s. he was interesting (altho no one could quite figure out what he was talking about with his "life cell" stuff), but difficult & often belligerent. i sort of like to make a project of penetrating the defences (or whatever) of such people, so we became friends. i used to visit him & Catherine in Somerville. btw, Kit is/was smarter than Wayne; he always tacitly accepted what she said (which wasnt much though). she was a fascinating woman in many ways, and she was his rock. she had a great influence on me. and he toughened me up with his sporadic attempts to destabilize my opinions; to make me see that i hadn't really thought them out (he failed). i have to say that he could really be very nice most of the time, but seemed to have a demon at other times. i enjoyed knowing him and considered him a friend.

misc facts: he went to Colby college in Maine and got straight A's, then transferred to Harvard. i lost touch after that, but i think he decided Harvard wasnt worth it. and he had started writing music reviews and fooling around w/ Macintoshs... we went to V Underground concert in the Boston Tea Party (??), and we visited Lou Reed back stage. Lou stared intently at me, which i think was his intent to hit on me. i'm not of that persuasion, and in any case for me it was a study of people who thought they were at the very center of things (an illusion).

i have no idea what happened to him after that.

Try back this weekend for a fresh update.

MAY THE REUNION BE PRESERVED!

The big punk rock reunion gigs started popping up sometime in the nineties, but at this point in the rock/roll spectrum they certainly seem to be going on full steam ahead! My guess as to the reason why this happens to be is that with the hip baby boom punkers starting to get into their bald chrome dome/potbellied crises, and with all of that upper-mid class moolahroolla they've got from their white collar jobs just waiting to be spent, and with their recent divorces and yearnings for a simpler, more copasetic time in life there's nothing better for 'em to do than to rush back whole hog into their past lives and re-live those thrilling days of yesteryear when there really was such a thing as an "International Youth Culture" that sorta spoke the massive drone language beyond borders and otherwise impenetrable barriers.

And you know it's true, like when Nick Nicholas of Clone records resurrected the Bizarros after his split from wifey (ditto Jymn Parrett's brief return to the fanzine front a decade back after he and longtime partner/DENIM DELINQUENT cohabitist Dee Daack parted company), or the Stooges and Rocket From the Tombs touring and recording even though they shoulda been doing such things back when they didn't hafta dye their hair (or had hair for that matter!), or even the renewed interest in loads of groups and various rockism idiosyncrasies that only I thought was pretty much a part and parcel of my own life sphere...y'know, back when I was yammering on about a whole slew of decade-old "first wave" underground snappers in the pages of my own BLACK TO COMM (then PHFUDD!) fanzine while the rest of my self-published compatriates were more or less enthralled by the latest Homestead/SST promotion package to fling their way. (Not that I wasn't going ga-ga over the reams of freebies from these and other labels that were heading to my doorstep with some regularity twenny years back, but I sure got the message that in no way did DC3 or Live Skull replace Mirrors or the MC5 in the panthenon of high-energy mindsear.) So yeah, it's no big revelation to point out to you the plain simple fact that the revival of the punk rock revival is in full gear, and don't blink because it sure seems a lot more palatable than the nineties homophilia revival which is bound to take you by storm sometime in the next few weeks.

Of course, one of the reasons for this revival frenzy going on is the imminent demise of CBGB which has more than a few old timey scenewatchers muttering "end of an era" with slung breasts and broken hearts. And given that the countdown to the noted beerdive's last-ever hoot is taking place as we speak you KNOW that there's gonna be a whole lotta bands both near and far cramming the stages of the various CB-run outlets in order to bid their fond adieus. Both Flipper and the Dead Kennedys are planning to represent the eighties portion of the punk equation with performances next week, but last Friday night was pretty much seventies salutations all the way.

Didn't get to catch the entire evening (actually, I hadda get up extra-early the next day and wasn't looking forward to the prospect of negative-four hours sleep that night!) but I did get to catch most of the reason I was tuning in, mainly the enticing reunion of none other'n THE PLANETS that was going down at the club which, come to think of it, is also going down as well. In case you don't know who these Planets are (or have them confused with the English early-eighties band with the same moniker or perhaps some other heavenly bodies of note) you can read all about 'em in BLACK TO COMM #22 which is still available from me, especially if you click the highlighted title which will take you to a post with the answer to ALL your questions (howzat for yet another not-so-subtle hint???). It promised to be a biggie of a night in itself, not only with the Planets performing but Bill Popp and the Tapes (survivors from the last days of Max's Kansas City who surprisingly enough never did split up!), the Boyfriends (ex-Poppees, with some guy from the Records sitting in somewhere!) and the Heat (Planets singer Tally Tallifarro's late-seventies punk band whom you can read about in the aforementioned article) also tearing up the torn-beyond-belief awlready stage, and I only wish that I coulda been front and center for this gig live 'n in the flesh 'n all, but the way things are I guess I'll just hafta put up with being stuck on the fringe of Sharon Pee-Yay gulcher with shoddy cybercast quality that at least connects with all of those swinging people over New York City way.

Actually, the computer was acting pretty nice and fine when unbilled opening act the Tender Mercies were doing their late-seventies power pop thingie, but when it was time for the Planets to hit the stage I hadda keep re-upping the live stream thus catching their set in nice little pieces. But I got to admit that it was boffo to see Binky Phillips (who now has short hair which I guess was dyed for the occasion and kinda stocky-lookin' as well, sorta reminding me of a drive-time talk dee-jay) back on the CBGB stage after years of absence (at least since his fine late-eighties power trio that had me jumping up and down despite his ex-label Caroline's natural lethargy). However, other'n he and lead singer Talliafarro appearing that night there were no other original Planets (mainly, bassist Tony Jones and drummer Steve Korff) to be found. Some guy named Jim Wiseman played the bass while the "School of Rock"'s Desmond Sullivan filled in on rhythm guitar and helping Talliafarro out on vocals was a Phil Solomon who looked like a refugee from some eighties tattoo-punk band and certainly not in tune with the Planets' more metallic oomph-rock (but he was, which proves Bo Diddley's old dictum that you can't judge a man by looking at his tattoos!). Oh, and on drums was none other than Ritchie Teeter of the late-seventies Dictators which at least was a pleasant surprise...glad to see him breaking out of the cover band trap he was in a decade ago!

Talliafarro himself was a surprise as well, getting a special introduction from the band (kinda like the one Ruby Lynn Reyner got when I caught a cybercast of her about four years back!) comin' up on stage complete with dreadlocks hanging all the way down his back. (Somehow I expected him to have avoided the music/hip and cool scene all these years, perhaps becoming an accountant or somethin'!) However, the biggest surprise itself was the music...NONE of the Planets' classic odes to Lois Lane, nor their UFO-esque version of Eddie Cochran's "C'mon Everybody" or even that great summer-y Sidewinders-esque "Wish That It Were True" ended up getting performed once and for all (or maybe they saved all that after my computer conked out for good). Starting off with "Shadow Box" (which I believe is a cover...sounds a lot like the Dolls' "Chatterbox" and I know I've heard it somewhere...) and going all the way down through such "chestnuts" as "Sonic Reducer", "Search and Destroy", "Bad Girl" and even a revved-up "Train 'kept a Rollin", the Planets surely had the audience (which included former scenester/New York Dolls Peter Jordan) in the palm of their hands, but I was hoping for something a little more closer to those days of olde when the Planets could probably draw only about ten or so friends and acquaintances before the WORD got out. Still, it was powerful, high energy and fun watching Talliafarro and Solomon trading off choruses of some of our fave standbys and seemingly having about as much fun as I was jumping up and down in my playpen!

And if you want to see a snap of what Phillips looked like back when the Planets were a front-and-center hard-edged entity on the scene, just click here and you'll be satisfied!

Just who was that bloke who was disturbing my self-absorption by calling me up last Thursday night anyway? Well, it wasn't Chuck Eddy just to tell me how much he loved me, it was EDGAR BREAU of all people! Yes, the infamous Canadian primitive/primate gave me a ring, and boy did he have a good reason for doing so...mainly to break to me the news that yeah, SIMPLY SAUCER IS INDEED REFORMING!!!! and in fact have played their first of many reunion gigs by the time you read this!!! The details are sketchy (as was my mind), but I guess that former Saucer rhythm guitarist Steve Parks caught Edgar performing solo in Montreal (where I assume Parks is now residing...you can never tell about these things!) and well, one thing led to another and all, and anyway with longtime Saucer/Breau crony Kevin Christoff in the fold as well as a new drum-basher the Saucer is indeed alive and kicking, not only performing their old hits but some new numbuhs as well! And Mr. Breau even told me that they're thinking of getting a new electronics player in order to re-create that original space-y Saucer sound! Not Ping Romany, who I guess is way outta the scene and living the Newfie life somewhere, but no matter who will be minding the synths I certainly think that the addition of electronics to the Saucer sound will be the best thing to happen to avant rock since Eno discovered tape recorders! And Edgar is really excited about performing and all, tellin' me that although he's in his fifties now he feels just the way he did as a busting-out young man playing these songs live for unappreciative audiences who shoulda known better!

And what REALLY gets me all hot 'n bothered about the Breau call is that the man actually had the gentlemanly courtesy to ask ME (certainly a peon next to the massive might of Mr. B...in fact a mere flea in the world of his existence) how I was doing!!! I mean, it really jazzed me when Edgar really seemed concerned enough to find out how my life was going which was great considering how 99.44% of you Pee-Yews out there could care less if I got hit by a bus fulla rock critics on the way to a REO Speedwagon reunion! It really does my heart good to know that sometimes, some of the big people out there are looking out for the mere amoebas in life like myself. And some say chivalry is dead! Lemmee tell you, Edgar's call and his concern for my well being really made my day (but not night...I was so excited I couldn't get to sleep!) and I would say that it was perhaps one of the highlights of the year, at least next to Lou Rone's telephone calls but at least he calls on the weekends when I stay up late anyway!