MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! THE WIND starring Lillian Gish and Lars Hansen (MGM, 1928)

It really takes a lot to get this fanabla's hide in front of a tee-vee set anymore, but I managed to pull myself outta the comfy chair in my room and trek into the human activity area to watch this silent film as it appeared on Turdner Classic Mooms one Saturday night. Sure brought back memories of when I'd used to spent Saturday evenings plopped in front of the boob tube watching old mooms whether it be via those SILENT YEARS reruns on 45 or (weather permitting) OLD MOVIES, THE GOLDEN ERA on Cleveland's 25 because hey, I was young and impressionable and everything from "the cinematic arts" to tee-vee to music left this slam-bang impression on me that just doesn't resonate the way it used to when you were young and WILD-EYED. But I think you know that already, unless you're one of those "Social Justice Warrior" types so concerned about equal rights for snails (normal humans...ferget it!) still holed up at some youth hostel in Dubuque.

THE WIND is whatcha'd call a late late silent released when audiences were gagging themselves silly over everything from cats meowing to Farina's gravelly voice to care about the on-the-way-out silents, and if this is the way silents went out they sure went out on a pretty hotcha note! Film vet Lillian Gish still looks young enough as she did in BIRTH OF A NATION playing the Virginia-bred missy named Letty who makes her way out to dustbowl country to live with a cousin on his rather disheveled in its own quaint way ranch. On the train ride west she meets up with this bigshot  cattle dude who tells her of the tremendous wind storms that'll drive any frail like herself batshit crazy as the dust just covers up the train windows before getting blown away by even more dust.

Cousin "Beverly" (yeah that's his name, sweetie!) and the kids take a liking to their new arrival but wifey gets those typically female jealousy rants and raves up because of it, thereby banishing Letty from the ranch which is a bad break considering the gal is pretty much penniless. It's at that point she marries Lige Hightower, a rather hicksome fellow played by Swedish big name Lars Hanson who really thinks that Letty is hot stuff. Too bad for him because Letty certainly doesn't return the favor doin' the ol' "ech, I only married you for your moolah" routine when Lige starts getting his hormones all in a rumble.

Meanwhile the storms keep roaring up and soon the big 'un hits right when Lige joins on a dangerous horse roundup so he can get the money to send Letty back to Vee-Yay and... Well, none other than the same bigshot dude she met up with on the train (who we find out already has a wife and just wants Missy for some fresh pudendum) is back at her place injured, but he gets around enough to act on his impulses which just happens to be when the storm hits a pretty frightening crescendo!

Pretty maddening moom here what with all of that wind and dirt (dishes are actually scrubbed in the dust!) and house-shaking intensity. And having to deal with a horny guy while hubby's away only adds to the madness of it all which Gish does in her best freaked out BROKEN BLOSSOMS best way possible. Hanson as the at first goofy yet ultimately heroic Lige also does well, but maybe that's because we don't have to hear his El Brendel voice! And Victor Sjostrom/Seastrom's directing abilities are just as good as Gish mentor D.W. Griffith's or any of his early emulators were the way he can build up the tension with the windstorms and threats, and although this film if anything signals "era's end" for the past few decades of cinematic fun and jamz you can just see how far the form had developed since those creaky if fun 1890's shorts that Biograph and Edison were putting out.

Glad to see this one survived years of nitrate degeneration, and whatever you do don't let the MGM logo scare you off...this is probably as close to a silent movie version of TWILIGHT ZONE or even ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS (w/o the twist ending, the original one being axed due to studio pressure) anyone ever could get!

Here's something that I lifted off of the Ex-Army Libertarian National site which
only goes to show you that there are somepotent humor aimed right at your
groinal capacity being made even these sad and sorry days! But dontcha
think that the use of the term "the stuff" to be rather prudishly evasive,
and in this day and age? Really! And while I'm at it, shouldn't that read
"MURDERERS"?

And so another week trudged on. At this point in my life I couldn't care even a microscopic whit...I mean, back when I was but a mere youth the changing of the seasons for all the good and bad they implied only signaled the start and end of funzies of a different sort, from outdoor swing-sets and swimming to winter snowball fights resulting in the breaking of cellar windows and (of course) A WHOLE LOTTA EXCUSES TO STAY INSIDE AND DO NOTHING BUT READ COMIC BOOKS! Now it'a all just a big blur of weather and personal situations clogging my existence and y'know, so what whether or not it's sunny outside or snowin' up a storm! I don't care what the weather is like anymore because well...sad to say I've grown up and really, how can I go out and have fun the way I used to back when I was still in my single digits without coming off total retard anyway?

And besides, no matter what the weather is like outside I'M STILL GONNA STAY INSIDE AND READ OLD COMIC BOOKS!

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Oh yeah there I go, talking about the effin' weather again. 'Tis truly a shame given the cutting-edge, knows-no-bounds reaches of this blog which tackles the hard-nosed controversial issues of the day and in a totally frank, honest, and hopefully offensive (key word!) way. However, since I've run outta hot button situations to blab on about (and I don't wanna bore ya ravin' against the usual feminist/homo/racebait/liberteenage quap we've been inundated with for ages, at least until I get angry about 'em again) howzbout me blabbing on about a real rock und roll dream I had just this past Turds-day night/Fried-day morn!

Anyway, in this 'un I'm like thirteen again and in eighth grade (only I seem to be as cueball bald then as I am now!), and as a class project alla the boys (and there are a lotta 'em!) have to form rock 'n roll groups and perform for an eighth-grade battle of the bands! And so, throwing myself head-first into this fun-sounding project I borrow an electric guitar (an Epiphone in case you're keeping track) and form an act with three other kids inna class who I never saw before in my life and will probably never will see again!

So we're all dressed up in sports jackets, ties and suits in what looks like a large church basement/social hall kinda get up complete with a basketball court and stage, and our group is going to play alongside what seemed like about fifteen others who are also attired in sporty suits and ties and have haircuts more akin to the class of '63 than anything you'd see in a schools a good decade later. Oddly enough our un-named in the dream act hadn't even rehearsed, but I was going to instruct them on playing the song for that night which was none other than Von Lmo's "Ultra Violet Light"! When it was time for our soundcheck I feedbacked my guitar waving it in the air and jerking it all about thus causing utter howls of pure sound that was so atonal screech that my parents and others told me to cease and desist with the caterwauling immediatelly! Funny, but in this dream I couldn't hear a THING at all when I was waving my guitbox about, but judging from those around me I was making quite the racket.

Afterwords all of the musicians around took a group photo a la the kind they have in school, some of us posing with our guitars and such. As far as I recall, the dream ended before ANYBODY got to perform, and that included my band! But somehow, what I did dream gave me a whole lot more inner, deep satisfaction regarding my situation on this planet...other than the ones where I'm marooned on a South Sea Island with alla those topless island gals with large and clearly visible bullseyes (no long hair subterfuge here!) who haven't seen a man in ages and... Well, I think you know what I mean.

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This one didn't make the news the way I thought it shoulda, but in case you haven't heard RIP to none other than Jimmy Olsen himself Jack Larson. Say hi to Montgomery for us, willya Jack???

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Here's another week of reviews that wouldn't have existed if Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and Bruit Direct Disques hadn't (existed, that is). Thanks to them for the contributions which I will admit gave me hours (OK, at least two or even three) of listening enjoyment. In case you believe that I'm being a chintzoid relying on contributions such as these YOU'RE RIGHT, though I'll let you know that I just might get up the cash for some big FORCED EXPOSURE order in a week or two. Until then these efforts on their behalf sure do help.

Thanks again for the Care Packages...now I know how those starving Africans you used to see on those tee-vee PSA's when I was a kid felt when they were paddling up that lumpy goo (which, as I said, I always thought came in "flavors of the week" like cheddar cheese or peanut butter or tangy curry), tho instead of nourishment for the body I get nourishment for the nervous system. And at times that can be a whole lot better for one's overall high energy health!

LOCKSLEY HALL CD-r burn

For bein' a buncha hippie swill this one ain't that bad. True it borrows a whole lot from the Jefferson Airplane yet doesn't transcend them the way Amon Duul did (and of course it has the obligatory and patently unfunny dope number for all of those hip 'n with its to snigger at), but there's a decidedly driving side to these numbers that many of the hippoid musical acts of the day just couldn't express in their rather isolated from reality sounds. These Northwesterners did a fine balancing act between psychedelic rock and sunshine that takes the better moments of each without sounding too derivative of either, and only if they had ditched the cornball poetry and goodtimey drug reference this woulda been what I'd call a top notch spinner. You can hear it on youtube if you don't believe me and really, how many of you have?

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DEVIL'S KITCHEN CD-r burn (originally on Lysergic Sound)

These Illinois transplants to the Summer of Hippie in San Francisco actually do manage a halfway-there blooze chooze  that doesn't sound any worse'n the thousands of other similar-minded miscreants who were pounding the pavement on the lookout for gigs back inna late-sixties. Might be way too heavy into the whiteguy pose for some of you hardened anti-longhair types out there, but in many ways this is perhaps thee most perfect manifestation of the post-Yardbirds phenomenon that anyone could have hoped for back in those ever-sagging days. And you gotta congratulate 'em for at least getting the blues thing right unlike too many suburban slob Elmore James wannabes out there did.

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Jackie McLean-CAPUCHIN SWING CD-r burn (originally on Blue Note)

Wow, bop! Or is it post-bop? Whatever it is, it sure sounds great in the entire nada of it all that passes for living these days. Great throbbing sounds from McLean (yet another victim of the mad fury that was once known as Charles Mingus), Blue Mitchell, Walter Bishop Jr., Paul Chambers (who actually appeared with Jeremy Steig in the middle of punk-crazy 1975 CBGB's if you can believe that) and drummer Art Taylor, who some of you might remember actually pounded log drums with Archie Shepp while at BYG! And the drive of it won't have you slappin' any bowties on soon I'll tell ya that!

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BATTERED WIVES CD-r burn (originally on Bomb, Canada)

I can certainly remember when these guys were out and about causing such a well-planned out controversy with their rawther "offensive" moniker. Ugly old harridans were picketing their shows crying typical deeply buttbruised tears over a name such as "The Battered Wives" and yeah, some of 'em were acting rather convincingly at that but you kinda get the idea that was only because there weren't any other crises for them to exploit that day. The way I look at it, if "women" wanna be equal to men they should take all the beatings they can get, just like the guys at the bar who mouth off and actually get those teeth extracted for their upcoming dentures free if not so easy!

These Wives don't sound like the everyday British punk rock group I had envisioned them to be. More or less punk rock true, but in a straighter if still potent vein as if they had been at the Roundhouse in London 7/4/76 and took more of a shining to the Flamin' Groovies than the Ramones. Even the then-topical Idi Amin number isn't played for punk laffs, but you can squeeze some outta it if you want. A real surprise given just how calculated and sleepwalking some of these groups had become right around the time the seventies were clocking their way outta existence.

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ORANGE COLORED SKY CD-r burn (originally on UNI Records)

This one is really iffy, and I mean iffy like in 1970 record bin at the local supermarket for 79-cents and you're debating between this and a bag of Wise Sour Cream 'n Onion Potato Chips with a container of Orange Drink. If you bought the chips 'n drink I'm sure you would made made the right choice, because I really don't see much of tippy-top BLOG TO COMM value in this particular slice of late-sixties El Lay pop. You can hear them striving for the same sonic heights of the Beatles ca. "Got To Get You Into My Life" and falling worse the Icarus, hoping for the same classical dash of the David or Montage yet getting lost somewhere in the wash of xommercial overkill. Not totally without the mythical "it", for this contains a version of the song "Mr. Peacock" which Darlene Love sang so beautifully in that all-time slice of relevant yet laugh-inducing cinema THE LOVE GOD starring Don Knotts!

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Wonderfuls-ONLY SHADOWS NOW LP (Bruit Direct Disques, France)

A rather lush release from this French label, but nothing that's gonna make you get all saccharine sweet to the point of diabetes. Sounds like everything from Nico ca. MARBLE INDEX with some late-sixties Tim Buckley tossed in, and do I discern an almost-direct swipe of Mirrors' "I've Been Down" on more than one of the offerings available here? Of course the sound is heightened if you play it through one of those old stereo consoles that has an "aux" position on the amplifier thus making it sound like a total vibrating soundslide in the privacy of your own home. Someone out there in internetland compared this 'un to the Durutti Column...sheesh, is it like they're trying to get me to hate this album or somethin'?

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Various Artists-VIRTUAL FLOOR SWEEPINGS REDUX CD-r burn (Bill Shute Productions)

Bill lost the track listings for this one which is something that a spiritual 'tardo like myself can get away with but BILL??? Like his brain must certainly be of MENSA quality (which means he's "mensa-mensa" as they say in dagoland). Still a good 'un, what with the infamous Jim Backus "Delicious" side which I believe Bill has already snuck on a previous floor sweeping (wish he'd send me the Backus dirty old man and English maid single side!), some accapella doo wop that might appeal to the 300 pound record collector in us all, a kinda funny country-grass male/femme vocal duo, instrumental rave on, "Little Egypt" even better'n the Downliners Sect (the same act does a country weeper called "Is This The End"), Snaggy and his gal doin' an bloozey version of "Delicious" so-to-squawk, a horn-y soul number that don't get me ("grown up music" as eight-year-old me woulda said), thud-sy sax instrumental with a plodding rhythm, early-seventies funk during the "sock it to 'em" days done by a black comedian who I believe is Pigmeat Markham or one of those Laff Records renegades, MORE sax instros this one of a slightly Spanish swing (sounds familiar, perhaps a repeat), super-scratchy early-seventies loco-ly produced funk,  so-so instrumental rock this time, definitely Pigmeat Markham doing the "Here Come De Judge" routine that got him kicked off LAUGH IN,  late-sixties sunshine pop, seventies update on old front porch country with a hippie tinge to it,  ad for THE LOVE SLAYERS and some middling neo-soul sung by a person of indeterminable race.

Sheesh,  even when Bill flubs up he makes up for it in spades shovels!

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! THE CHOPPERS starring Arch Hall Jr.!!! (Fairway International, 1961)

Other'n DEADWOOD 76 this was the only Arch Hall Jr. I missed out on seeing lo these many years, but thanks to the fine folk at Norton Records I was able to obtain a Dee-Vee-Dee of THE CHOPPERS and y'know what, I'm sure glad that I got to see it even if it is in the here and now!

Of course I would have preferred to see the thing on tee-vee back when I was a mere twelve and sure coulda used a moom pitcher like this to relieve myself of all the hippie women's lib garbage that was being tossed about! Y'know, I get the sneakin' suspicion that even then there was a high-minded crusade goin' on to cleanse the world of alla that fun Baby Boom sorta entertainment like THE CHOPPERS that was preventing us all from going to that peace 'n love school that popped up in BILLY JACK. Why do you think that James Taylor was getting the big push back then while Black Sabbath had trouble breaking onto the radio anyhow??? And I'll tell you what, and that is they're gonna have to pry my ABBOT AND COSTELLO disques from my cold, dead fingers and that's a fact!

Some ladies have no shame! Thank
goodness!

But enough on me and now to the moom at hand. THE CHOPPERS is a fast-paced, fin-packed li'l flicker that sure says a whole lot more about the early-sixties juvie delinquent situation than alla those WEST SIDE STORY fags (as my uncle screamed at 'em while we were watching the network tee-vee debut of that 'un way back '71 way!) ever could. Hall Jr.'s the leader of a pack of teenage car strippers working the SoCal area who are doing a pretty good job of it, so good that even the local fence Moose McGill (Bruno VeSota) thinks they're getting too big for their britches and decides to pull a dirty deal on 'em. Meanwhile the kids, getting away with one stripping after another, make the local gendarmes look totally stoopid to the point where they even pilfer from a detective's car while he and his fellow policemen (including PLAYBOY centerfold Marianna Gaba) hit the local drive in for a chow down.

No need to get into any of the other details regarding this flick other'n it ends in a big frenzy of violence that I sure would have liked to have been bloodier and ultra-violent, but then again that's just my youthful spark a poppin'.

The acting is top notch (don't ever fall for any of that turkey film hokum written by starry-eyed fart holder-inners who consider James Stewart some shining beacon of Western Civilization while continuing to pee-pee on the really exciting film career of so many worthies) and about as action packed as these things could get without turning the stomachs of many a teenage date. Hall Jr. shows professional sass and class even in this debut performance while the rest of the gang are as b-film fun as they come, meaning that they come off way more REAL LIFE'n these preening prancer you see nowadays who emote so much they make Sarah Bernhardt look like Byron Foulger.

Even the cops come off more everyday suburban ranch house than the tender-hearted touchy feely policemen that would eventually overtake the airwaves and moom screens of the seventies onwards.

And I gotta say that I was especially knocked out by Deegee Green as Gypsy, Hall Jr.'s galpal who sure reminds me of what the female s-x used to look like when I was but a mere turdler and couldn't wait to grow up to see more! Kinda cute and reserved yet sexy in her own way, and it's too bad that by the time I started sprouting pubes gals like this had been replaced by bulging loudmouth self-centered uncaged lions who should have been rounded up into a corral and given sweetness 'n light shots! That is, along with a hefty dose of Metrecal and some choice episodes of THE JACK LA LANNE SHOW. As I've said, no wonder a good portion of the male population has gone over to fagdom given the current state of copulation choices we now have.

A definite winner that not only captures the entire state of funtimes past, but acts as a sad reminder of what we were and will probably never be again, at least until the advent of the Even Newer World Order once I get in charge!

Now this is

Lately I've been occupying myself (and in the privacy of my own boudoir at that!) by having lotsa fun on the web by scouring the Internet Database on the hunt for those old issues of NATIONAL LAMPOON that are up and available for such suburban slobs as myself. And frankly, don't you think that this miracle of the modern age is certainly an asset for folk like myself who only used to read 'POON at the newsstands, not only because of depression-era wages that prohibited us from buying this esteemed publication but because hey, it wasn't like anybody was gonna let us in the house with a copy of that mag! Boy, it sure is great re-appreciating that old, offensive, decidedly non-proper and pissing off to the left and right humor that the mag was known for once again (and it's sure nice to know that there were other people on this planet who THOUGHT LIKE I DO) which goes to show you just how advanced I was even at that early teenbo stage in my life!

what I call

really funny

These early issues of 'POON (roughly up to the early-eighties---after that, ptooff!) also show just how much we've devolved since those freewheeling days when offensiveness could apply to the sorta people I've grown to loathe since hey, when was the last time any of us free-living beings on this planet able to make fun of such deserving targets as handicapped people, the retarded, stuck up radical youth, concentration camp survivors, gerbil-ridden sodomites, clueless Social Justice Warriors and all sortsa human turds just beggin' to be given the scathing 'POON treatment! All of these jagoffs (and more) were the target of  'POON wrath and if you don't think the jibes and pokes at the now-untouchable types are even more meaningful these sorry days may I call you Elton John's prolapsed rectum? After all, you probably have just about as much feeling as it does!

The regular features (especially the comics!) also bring back them toasty ol' fond memories of mag rack carousing. "Dirty Duck" still holds up well while "Trots and Bonnie" could be more hit than miss. Gahan Wilson's "Nuts" as well as Charles Rodrigues make me laugh more than Chuck Eddy's corpse ever will, while B. K. Taylor's "The Appletons" was such a mindless gut groaner that I sure wish it'd appeared in the local papers 'stead of the dreadfully unfunny offal that now appears in those sorry fishwrap pages. And believe-you-me, I sure miss the days when things like "Aunt Ron's Crafts For Boys" and "Son O' God" could actually be published which just brings up the proverbial question---when will we second/third-class citizens be allowed to LAUGH again?

humor in a thankfully non-jugular vein!

However, I must admit that I am having some trouble locating a couple of undoubtedly guffaw-inducing items that appeared in 'POON (or perhaps one of the special book editions which is why I can't locate 'em online)...one is a cartoon of Richard Nixon on the receiving end of a prison rape with the caption "He screwed you, now he's getting his!" as well as what is allegedly an "unretouched photo" featuring some aborigine from who knows where whose well-oversized manhood is tied in a knot. If you happen to know which issues these gems appeared, I'm sure you'll keep your trap shut as usual.

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I dunno about you, but there are times when I just can't get enough of that late-seventies En-Why-See zeitgeist that still resonates a whole lot brighter'n what actually followed. Thankfully this li'l site devoted to none other than the late-lamented EAST VILLAGE EYE noosepaper has appeared on line, and boy (girl) is it a godsend (krishnamurtisend) for those times when I do get them no wave blooze. Fantastic layout, great articles (James Marshall on the Cramps, PLENTY on the Contortions) and perhaps the next best thing to being caught up in a local heroin epidemic! Every time I go through I find loads of interesting information on long-forgotten local groups and other bits 'n feces I sure wish I knew about the first time 'round! Check it out yourself since hey, you'll never take my word for it!

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WEIRD THING ESPIED AT THE LOCAL PERKINS FAMILY RESTAURANT LAST SUNDAY MORN: And eyed while heading towards the "gents" room too...a small pinball-esque kiddie soccer (or football if you prefer) game that was very similar to those old baseball arcade games seen well into the seventies only scaled down to tot-size, the winner of the game getting a FREE kiddie meal t'boot. However, what made this particular game of chance interesting wasn't the fact that it was adorned with drawings of soccer players but because...now get this...a picture of the ENGLISH "Dennis the Menace"  was also being proudly displayed if you can believe that! Definitely something that definitely had me doing a double-take worthy of Shemp Howard if I do say so myself, and almost as strange as the time I saw some lass with a Tintin t-shirt on whilst at this outdoor antique show/flea market which I also thought mighty peculiar until I overheard her talking Frogese with her mater!

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This week in music did turn out a li'l spicier than I had thought. No new/recent exhumations or up-and-coming blast out music in a decidedly early-seventies high energy vein true, but thanks to Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and Bob Forward I was able to turn this post into something other than the usual long-winded blast of gaseous fumes these posts could be. Naw, this post is filled with nothing but unusual long-winded blasts of gaseous fumes, and I hope you appreciate my rather limited sense of humor.

Massimo Magee & David W. Stockard-INTERROGATORIES CD-r burn (Kendra Steiner Editions, see link on left)

Even more (if you can believe it!) rigid and nerve-gnawing freedom music that takes up where those mid-seventies AACM discs (and John Cage) left off, with reedist Magee playing a definitely post-Braxtonesque sopranino sax either straight or electronically altered and Stockard playing a snare drum and nothing but! They used to call this "minimalism" but in this case a whole new balla term is most definitely needed!!! I guess this is the thing that Leonard Feather nightmares were made of, and in more than one way I'm sure glad!

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The Challengers-WIPE OUT! CD-r burn (originally on GNP-Crescendo); the Agents-THEMES FOR SECRET AGENTS CD-r burn (originally on Sunset)

The Challengers album features a whole lot more prune-juicy than usual covers with Richard Delvy and company doing their own versions of the big 'uns that always sounded better in their own environs. Still makes for good enough clean out the bedroom backdrop, but I (and probably you, the discerning BLOG TO COMM reader) couldn't see myself taking this sort of crankout over the original gunch. I must say that I prefer the Agents doing the mid-sixties spy craze theme songs their way even if they ain't as good as the $3.99 stuff. Maybe that's because these numbers bring back early grade school memories of...come to think of it, I wanna smash this particular platter to SMITHEREENS, and I hope that you feel exactly the same way I do!

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CELEBRITIES AT THEIR WORST VOLUME 2.9, BITCH BITCH BITCH! CD-r burn

This collection is far from outrageous, or at least far from the outrageousness that I was hoping for given some of the wild off-color outtakes out there committed by people your parents always told us were nice and lovey-dovey. No Martin and Lewis it'll make ya shits or Casey Kasem yapping on about some dead dog, but you do get to hear Roger Waters swearin' about some pyrotechnic-lighting puds as well as Courtney Love's expletive-laden audience banter and phone message. In other words, sowhaddelseisnew? 

The rest ain't anything to call home about, what with some cutesy Christmas appearance from Mommie Dearest herself Joan Crawford and her adopted punching bags, a slightly-funny spoof of the old NBC jingle reflecting Fred Silverman's lousing up of the network, and a collage of clips that, for the life of me, have no meaning other than what they were originally intended for.

Some of it, like the Mark Lindsay commercials, don't have any double-meaning snicker value whatsoever nor do they show any signs of teenybop corniness, which must mean that I'm an old turd who still upholds the values of uberstraight Ameriga before the advent of the brave and just anti-middle class upheaval. However, the best of the batch for me was a radio interview conducted with an ailing Nina Simone who more or less sounds as if she was in the middle of a bender coming off like LaWanda Page after a few trips to the punchbowl! Boy did I feel sorry for the interviewer trying his best to make sense of that situation!!!

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WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO FAUST CD-r burn

Can't find any whys or wherefores regarding this collection of 1996 John Peel sessions, but it's supposedly downloadable somewhere out there so if you want one, you can HAVE one. 'n although I never thought that the reconstituted Faust was as interesting as the seventies variety the material they've left still has some of the original screwed sensibility that made krautrock the kind of genre that drew many an introspective nerdoid to its powers from the eighties onward. Avant pus spurts all over your sensibilities while trash can clangs do their best to upset your psyche they way they did during the Golden Age of Import Bins. And whaddaya know, but at times I can even detect a melody here and there!

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Jack DeJohnette-MADE IN CHICAGO CD-r burn (originally on ECM)

DeJohnette returns to his Chicago roots for this '05 live session also featuring AACM regulars Roscoe Mitchell, Muhal Richard Abrams and Henry Threadgill (dunno who this Larry Gray guy is). For an ECM album it's more like ECM in the early days before they got into that soft exterior chamber sound, roaring all over like it was still 1975 and the loft scene was still something for bored VILLAGE VOICE writers to hype. DeJohnette sounds a whole loads better'n he did on some of those seventies platters of his I felt were snoozeville, while Mitchell and Threadgill once again prove that they were the real heirs to the sixties upheaval 'stead of those bowtie bozos who got alla that choice DOWN BEAT exposure. Even Gray shows himself a perfect bassist for this gathering of well-knowns and like I said, if you're put off by the ECM reputation this might just jar you ever-so-slightly in a different direction.

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THE JACK BENNY SHOW (CD-r burn)

Wait, shouldn't that be THE JACK BENNY PROGRAM? Whaddeva, here are a couple of radio classics that'll probably mean nothing to you, though I get the impression that if they were fulla s*xual innuendos and white/hetero guilt mongering some of you MASOCHISTS out there would be eating these up faster'n Elton John going down on a starving newsboy! Great stuff here with plenty of Rochester, Dennis Day (gotta admit that I fast-forwarded through the musical numbers because Day was always better as a doofus comedy foil than he was a tenor), Mary Livingston (who does deliver a slightly naughty joke when she sez that Jack's kiss wouldn't even make THE KINSEY REPORT!) and of course Don Wilson. Even Benny Rubin gets to do his "I dunno" routine and longtime fave Frank Nelson once again gets into the fray acting as obnoxious as ever! (BTW didja ever see his appearance on THE ADDAMS FAMILY where he plays it totally straight? I sure wish he did his obnoxious "Yeeeeessss" routine on that one!). And heck, where else is anyone gonna get to hear a musical quartet made up of Frank Sinatra, Danny Kaye, George Burns and Groucho Marx??? As Brad Kohler would say, "You don't have to hate Dick Cavett to like Groucho Marx's singing voice," or something like that.

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THE SONS OF HERCULES CD-r burn (originally on Unclean)

As you all know, I PURPOSEFULLY missed out on most if not all of the nineties new high energy bands that were floating about not only here but abroad. Too many bad feelings after being cheated by some of the late-eighties practitioners of the form who just didn't have the same hard-nosed gunch that the originals oozed outta their syphilis-riddled guts. Now there may have been a few worthy of my ears, but given the lack of $$$ on my part it wasn't like I was scouring the record catalogs to see which new hype out there that was just begging me to shed my shekels..

After giving the Sons of Hercules a listen all I gotta say is that maybe I haven't missed that much. Sure they're high energy and pretty good if you want a quick rock fix, but these sons (and many of their compats) just don't have the same bash and vigor that those 99-cent cutout faves of the seventies that had mags like FLASH thrusting themselves  into existence sure did. Maybe if the members of the band had that suburban slob upbringing they'd know how to crank out a hard-edged platter worthy of the 1972 CREEM awards, but next to that swill I hear repeatedly at Dollar General well...it's pretty good if I do say so myself.

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Soundtrack to the motion picture ILLUSION, starring Charles Rogers and Nancy Carroll CD-r

Although the celluloid is gone the soundtrack lives on for this 1929 feature, but that won't stop us from enjoying it one iota! Of course it ain't anything much without the visuals considering that the discs used are so worn and hard to understand, but having it play on as I'm doing other things inna room really did bring back some old memories. That is, if you want to pretend you're a turdler again playing with your dinky inna other room while the folks are watching some old movie elsewhere inna abode. For anal retentive film historians and those of us who love them.

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Various Artists-CHESTERFIELD DOGGIE NEWBEAT CD-r burn (Bill Shute)


The track listing here seems to go off course somewhere after the appearance of Evil Hoodoo's "Black Strings" (aka the music they used for the old Benson and Hedges 100's commercials) and before Key Larsen but so what! Other'n I kinda wonder what is what and who is where and all that, but it's still a good selection what with some neato radio ad for Dr. Pepper as well as a couple of spoken word tracks from Taylor Mead who for once sounds like his mouth and throat ain't awash in some sorta white slimy substance.

The avant garde trax (including some Brian Eno thingies that don't sound so bad) are a whole lot better'n some of the sound jagoff out there, while the teenage thumpers from the likes of Larsen and Jim Cava don't sound as hideous as the folks at KICKS magazine usedta make 'em out to be (though it ain't like I'd actually BUY any of their wares in a million years!). 'n hey, even the hardcore punk offerings from the likes of the False Prophets sound boffo here even if we all know that band was nothing more than a buncha hippies who were in on the big eighties radical left bandwagon that sure petered out into totalitarian abstractions once that decade rolled on!

Kinda wondered who actually did that Jack Ruby-esque all-out punk scraper (I think its the Fat Worm of Error but I could be wrong), and the Beanie Baby/"Be My Baby" spoof is good enough for one of those afternoon drive radio shows and nothing else, but who can complain about ANY Cee-Dee-Are that's got the opening theme from the AUGGIE DOGGIE cartoons! Stuff like that (and the old radio commercials Bill snuck in) really make my day because hey, we all know that this sorta true art wasn't created by some bitch with a brick up her ass about not being invited to the prom or some ingrate immigrants or some pouting preeners who complain about how bad the old days were when they weren't, and frankly these old examples of mid-Amerigan GREATNESS purify my SOUL all the more! And if you disagree, may I point you out to some spiffy workshop advertised in THE VILLAGE VOICE???

BOOK REVIEW! THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE ARCHIE VOLUMES ONE AND TWO (Archie Publications, 2004/2008 respectively)

Back during my "serious" comic book collecting days in the seventies, I didn't care one iota for Little Archie. Can't even pinpoint a good reason as to exactly why other'n I didn't like the artwork and the stories were kinda stoopid even by anarchic kiddie comic book standards. Not to mention that it always was better looking at Betty and Veronica when they were teenage what with all of their equipment in order rather'n when they were kids and not in proper operational mode, but that was just the teenage hubba hubba in me talkin'. 

An' hey, maybe by the time I was reading the Little Archies my adolescent turd detector was pretty much in full gear because like, how can Mr. Weatherbee and Miss Grundy be overrunning these kids in grade school when in fact they were working at Riverdale High at the very same time! And how could Mrs. Andrews look so ravishing in these comics yet come off like such an old bag a few years later? You can fool a dumboid eight-year-old suburban slob true, but you can't fool a dumboid thirteen-year-old one that's for sure!

Of course that was then and this is then to a certain extent, and for the life of me I couldn't get it through my dunceoid beanie that maybe the Little Archie universe was a way different one from the teenage Archie Comics one, or the daily newspaper Bob Montana Archie universe which I must admit was the favorite of the batch. Maybe using this sort of not-so-strange comic book logic I could enjoy these adventures of Archie as a single-digiter the same way I can Archie as a high school junior who drove a beat up twenties jalopy long after such cars were the teenbo norm thanks to World War II. 

Well, eh, not really, but these collections of Little Archie adventures did make for a nice li'l rainy day read. There's nothing here that makes me go "wow!" or "ahhh!" or even coaxes out a giggle, but as far as cheapoid fifties-bred cartoons go I'm not complainin' at all. 

Bob Bolling's acquired quite a good reputation for these sagas o'er the years to the point where some comic wags have been likening him to none other than DONALD DUCK legend Carl Barks (well, that's what the on-line hype says), but I ain't buying it that much! Bolling's good and I prefer his Little Archie to the guy who was doin' it inna seventies, but I find his artwork to be standard late-fifties/early-sixties decent stuff that (again) doesn't elicit any oohs or aahs from this turdburger! 

Still his Little Archie adventure stories are pretty hotcha things in themselves what with the likes of aliens, time-travel and even a perennial badguy enemy in the form of "Mean Dr. Doom" ('n where was the lawsuit for that considering how both Archie Comics and its rivals were more'n apt to sue each other over even the least infractions!) and his Jay-Dee sidekick Chester taking precedence over the usual kiddie capers the seventies Li'l Archie was known for! These collections are heavy on the adventure and low-church sci-fi which is fine by me because frankly, I find the everyday stories dealing with school and extracurricular activities (as well as the usual prepubescent boys and girls acting like grownups in love which worked in NANCY but not here!) not that ship shape in comparison.

But at least there was a nize li'l balance between the hotcha Little Archie gets kidnapped by aliens type of stories and the ones where he's involved in more kiddieish things like joining the girl's softball team and hey, it's sure nize to get a li'l variety in packages like these!

Dunno why there were no appearances by LITTLE ARCHIE regular Li'l Ambrose here (other'n his visage drawn on a chalkboard) since I am totally unfamiliar with this character (kinda comes off like a cross between Jughead and Beetle Bailey) and I sure woulda liked seeing exactly how he acted up in this mix considering his legendary status in the LITTLE ARCHIE universe! But whaddeva the omissions may be the choice is yers, though considering that the original fifties title can be found rather inexpensively you might wanna hold off for some of those instead of these if only to get more comics bang for your buck.

Either way you might be in for some great toilet reading you can't get from LADIES HOME REGURGITATION but then again so what else is gnu?

Brad Kohler told me that I should have a blog that details my nightly dreams and nothing else! That might be a funzy idea 'n all, but frankly 1) I really don't have that many cohesive dreams that I can remember much of after I wake up, 2) a lot of the dreams I do have are pretty much plotless moving from one demi-scenario to the next and 3) some of the dreams I do have might warrant a visit from the vice squad, or at least a visit to a local headshrink who would probably go crazy himself trying to make sense of the garble that passes for thought inside my very own beanie.

However on Wednesday night I did have an interesting dream that actually had a rock 'n roll angle to it thus earning a mention on this very blog! I'm at this store of some sort, sweeping up or something along those lines while a recording of the Troggs is playing. I notice that the songs actually sound slightly slow, so I mention to some old guy (in my dreams I always seem to be the insecure, easily frightened and easily ticked off schoolkid while anyone old is usually about forty years or so) that the music ain't the correct speed, and so whoever is in charge does the right thing and adjusts the speed so "Love Is All Around" sounds the way that Reg Presley and company had intended. Well, it's sure a better dream'n those ones where some high school nemesis returns to humiliate me in front of the entire student body and all I'm wearing are my jockeys!

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I guess you can tell by the above space-filler that this week hasn't been exactly the slam-bam kinda one a high-energy rock et roll fan such as myself would enjoy. I mean, if a dream such as that is the HIGHLIGHT of my past seven days you can tell that I'm definitely stuck in the Turdsville of my mind (sounds like a late-sixties AM hit best left in the toilet!). Well yeah, I do get a few of them weeks where things just ain't as funzies as they should be, and believe-you-me I have just experienced one that I would surely wish on my worst enemy!

But that ain't gonna stop me from givin' my best to you as far as detailing the new sounds that have been gracing my ears as of late! Thanks again to Bill Shute, for he supplied ALL of the wares to be found below and frankly if it weren't for he all you'd be reading here would be details of all of my OTHER dreams this week, some which, when you get down to it, can be rather embarrassing...

Before we get to the scuffed knuckles of it all can anyone tell me...is there a collection of Lobby Loyde-era (or any era for that matter) Wild Cherries tracks that's readily available? I'm on the lookout for one and other than the myriad asst. of compilations with tracks I'm not quite interested in (not to mention a way-overpriced EP featuring a side of Cherries material) there seems to be nada available at this time. Or so it would seem if ebay is any indication. If you know where I can find this group's rare single sides or whatever else is available all in one nice neat place please do get in touch (though I get the feeling none of you will because like, why bother!).

Various Artists-SWEET BEAT CD-r burn (originally on Star Club Germany)

Here's one for the serious funtime collector, a sampler of great German and English beat crammed onto one tiny disque in the interest of space and your own funtime sound frolics. A nize li'l combination of sounds from acts both known (Wayne Fontana, the Walker Brothers) and not-so unless you still read your "British Invasion" copy of BOMP! Contains the likes of not only the aforementioned but the Phantom Brothers, Rattles and Liverbirds romping through tuneage we've probably haven't heard before even in this age of instant internet jollies.

What's best about this particular sampler is that there ain't a sour note in the batch and, as far as a collection dealing with the mid-sixties continental sound goes this contains probably the best cross section of b-to-z list groups anyone could cook up. The additional tracks by the German Bonds that were tacked on at the end show that they could have been a rather popular band even over here in Ameriga, if only there weren't those hard feelings about the war still popping up all over the place.

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Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson, John Zorn-LIVE AT THE FESTIVAL INTERNATIONAL DE JAZZ 2 JULY 2010 MONTREAL CD-r burn (available as a download somewhere out there in the vast reaches of the internet)

Like most amateur golfers I cannot tell a lie, and frankly this gathering of big names live at some avant garde festival sounds a whole lot better'n the pretentious mish-mosh I thought it would. The audience does get a li'l testy at times (but not as bad as they did when John Cage performed his symphony during the 25 year retrospective) as Lou plays his guitar through the usual synthetic effects and does recall his Gretsch Country Gentlemen days if only in the slightest. Anderson's violin playing ('n whatever, sounds like there's a string quartet sitting in though that might just be some "sampling") ain't that bad considering she's keeping her more cute artzy inclinations under wraps, and although I always thought Zorn the sorriest of the three his free jazz honkings don't bug me the way many of those whiteguy practitioners of the form who used to pop up on Knitting Factory compilation albums might have. A whole lot better than I thought it would be, but I'm still not taking my reputedly "inflammatory" Lou Reed obituary back!

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Anthony Braxton-DIAMOND CURTAIN WALL TRIO 40th DEUTSCHES JAZZFESTIVAL CRANKFURT OCTOBER 30, 2009 (MP3)

Perhaps I should admit that I really haven't paid that much attention to Braxton's post-fame (or whenever Arista dropped him) career (and what I did read about it sounded rather fishy like when the guy'd sit in with these nonagenarian dixieland musicians on contrabass clarinet or perform with a stand up comedian), and considering some of the projects the guy has been involved with (see previous parenthetical aside) maybe I'm the better for it! But since I got this recording from Bill what better way to at least fill myself in on a smidgen bit of what the famed multi-reedist has been up to ever since those days when he was being touted as the new Dave Brubeck for introspective mid-seventies college nerds worldwide.

Gotta say that not much has been up, though this live kraut jazz fest gig isn't without its funzy merits. Braxton still plays like the clinical musician he always was, nothing wrong with that, though he does tend to lack the swing of a Roscoe Mitchell or Joseph Jarman. No wonder he even rated an article in the old SOURCE magazine which was reserved for those of the avant garde classical vein.  Bandmate Taylor Ho Bynum makes adequate enough noise on various brass and other horns (sounding rather restrained in this setting which does help Braxton all the more) while guitarist Mary Halverson does crank out some tasty riffs and sounds but doesn't quite dig into my nervous system the way Sonny Sharrock could. Again, her performance does mingle copasetically with Braxton's.

Nothing I'd care to actually purchase mind ya, but getting a freebee was a nice gesture on Bill's part and I do need my post-new thang jazz education beefed up a bit. Kinda makes me wonder what other new jazz performances are available online, and for as little cabbage as possible given these moolah-stricken times.

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Jen Hill-THE SHAPE OF IT CD-r burn (Kendra Steiner Editions, see link on left)

Here's a newcomer (I think) that you may be hearing more of in the weeks to come and no, I don't mean her name is gonna pop up in the "Police Records" section of the local paper any time soon. Hill mixes her stangeoid soundstapadings with what sound like actual attempts at tonal melodies with acoustic trappings, and although she sings like she's been making too many trips to the punchbowl at the Junior Class Spring Fling her vocalese does fit in with the various sounds at hand. Cello drone,  abstract sputter and if you head for the kitchen thinking you've left the refrigerator door open I don't blame you one bit!

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Odell Brown and the Organ-izers-MELLOW YELLOW CD-r burn (originally on Cadet)

Fer a minute I thought this was gonna be one of those chintzoid ripoff albums that kidz bought for their Uncle Ferds and Aunt Mabels in order to get some well needed REVENGE on 'em for alla those cheap Beatle-imitation albums they've been giving out for years. Turns out that Lou Reed was right again when he said "shows just how wrong a suburban slob can be", because this spinner courtesy jazz/r&b organist Brown is a really hot number. Nothing otherworldly like Larry Young but toe tapping beautiful in its own way. Proves that you can't judge a book by looking at its liner notes, or something along those lines.

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SANDY GURLEY AND THE SAN FRANCISCO BRIDGE CD-r burn (originally on Tower)

Ya kinda'd think that the same label that gave us the Standells, Chocolate Watchband, Davie Allen and Pink Floyd would have known better'n to shovel this quickie exploito package at us! Not that Sandy Gurley don't sing good and bawlzy like Janis (and has a better setta suckems too, not to mention face), but these San Francisco Bridge guys ain't nothin' but yer usual session guys who have cornered the market on STERILITY and the music ain't anything you'd care to really wanna sit down 'n listen to. Unless you like cheapoid crankout takes of such already overworked tuneage such as "Money Can't Buy Me Love" or "Under My Thumb" that is. If I had heard this back when it came out I would have immediately labeled it "Big People Music" somewhere between "Big Band Era" (what the folks listened to) and MOR pop/soul (which I thought was solely in the realm of twenty/thirtysomething listening pleasures if you can believe it!), and all these years later maybe I was right!

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Various Artists-GLOOMY DREAM HAVEN PIGEONS CD-r burn (Bill Shute, as if you were expecting Patrick Amory???)

Haven't heard the Dream Syndicate in ages, so this version of "When You Smile" lifted from their debut EP kinda reminds me of why these guys were the new hotcha underground thing in '83, as well as why they sorta creeped me out because of the mad rush to Syndication by more'n a few people I didn't quite cozy up to. The Blaze Foley song is good, kinda like negro folk blues that doesn't come off as dippoid as Richie Havens (who I gotta admit sounds better'n much of the dippoidness that had been coming out in his day). The Musical Betts...church-y organ music accompanied by a bowed saw. Russ Sainty's Beatles covers are about as good or as bad as every other moptop cash-in of the day while the Pixies with Thurl Ravenscroft do these kiddie kinda records that yer older neighbor's kids used to play back when they were growing up inna fifties, and you know what kinda jerkoffs they turned out to be!

What I REALLY liked...the Ramrods doing yet some more of that late-fifties toughass garage band rock that sorta came off post-Holly yet pre-surf era, Supersax's jazzy instrumental that sounds a whole lot older than the 1979 date tagged to it, and Mike Thomas's "song poems" where he and his accompanying band (a good riff-droner act at that!) do their best to take abysmal poems and make something outta 'em. They do fine on "See Him" which is a basically a "Watching Scotty Grow" knockoff set to a beaut of an electric guitar strum but "Early One Morn at a Quarter to Ten" musta been a real hard one for Thomas and band to work up considering the poem sent them seems to be cut off mid-section. Y'see, this 'un's about some guy who meets up with an old friend who says he's been on welfare for five years because the more he was earning and working to make ends meet the more moolah was being taken outta his paycheck. And that's it, kinda makin' ya wonder why whoever wrote this thing didn't at least take a few creative writing classes to at least develop more'n what Thomas obviously hadda work with! But I guess that's the charm of it, kinda reminding me of some of my early writing endeavors that kinda just came to an end because I deemed so and if you didn't like it boy were you the real doof!

BOOK REVIEW! BIG CHUCK!, MY FAVORITE STORIES FROM 47 YEARS ON CLEVELAND TV by Chuck Shodowski with Tom Feran (Gray & Company, 2008)

In typical suburban-slob-laden BLOG TO COMM terminology, the first Golden Age of Tee-Vee certainly wasn't the 1950-1960 live PLAYHOUSE 90 intellectual garble that big city newspaper crits say it was. In our definitely against-the-grain yet true-to-form minds, the original GA ran from the 1957 season (first year for LEAVE IT TO BEAVER, HAVE GUN, WILL TRAVEL and THE REAL McCOYS) until 1967 (GILLIGAN'S ISLAND off the air and the survivors of the original GA petering out), although some wisenheimers out there might argue that the real last year for GA tee-vee was 1970 when CBS dropped SULLIVAN, GLEASON and GREEN ACRES not forgetting ABC and LAWRENCE WELK which was too hokey for the acid eaters out there anyway. Even then those shows (other'n the terminally cornballus WELK) weren't quite what they were when they first popped up on the screen, and although I sure felt the pangs of growing old (at age ten even!) when I found out those programs were to be no more it wasn't like they were going to be missed THAT much!

The second Golden Age, again according to our own maybe not-so-arbitrary BLOG TO COMM rules and regulations, ran from roughly the mid-seventies until late-seventies or perhaps early-eighties at the very latest. A short timespan indeed, but for all intent purposes one of the better eras to be situated in front of a boob tube what with shows like ALL IN THE FAMILY getting better due to the lack of a Vietnam War or radical libberism to pump into everyone's psyches, not forgetting the rerun circuit being filled to the brim with various fifties/sixties leftovers we just couldn't get enough of the first time around. You might find this strange, but although shows like BARNEY MILLER, WELCOME BACK KOTTER and THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW were rather hit or miss by BTC standards and clearly were the forerunners of today's absolutely unfunny and unwatchable fare, at least they had more'n just a few sparks of previous tee-vee generations energy to 'em. And who could deny that those episodes of MTM where Ted Baxter was getting Lou Grant all mad with his antics just weren't the best that the seventies could muster up in a Ralph Kramden/Ed Norton sorta way!

Local tee-vee was doing pretty good 'round then too. True the kiddie shows were pretty much dried up by this time (though I remember channel 17's JEEPER'S CLUBHOUSE doing a good enough BARNEY BEAN imitation complete with DEPUTY DAWG cartoons, not forgetting this old fogey on Pittsburgh's channel 11 throwing these SESAME STREET "one of these things does not belong here" games in between MR. MAGOO) but there were programs like channel 61's GHOUL and 43's SUPERHOST giving us those funtime adolescent thrills that were so good they didn't even seem that silly when we got older! And of course there was THE HOULIHAN AND BIG CHUCK SHOW on channel 8, a program which the aging hipsters and usual teenage snoots amongst us didn't like one iota, but for doofuses like myself it was television like this that I thought exemplified MAN AT HIS FINEST! And really, if you don't agree maybe you should check which rung you're on in the evolutionary ladder and if you're five or six above me well then, so what!

Sure the jokes and skits were cornballus as all heck what with Big Chuck Shodowski rehashing old Ernie Kovacs and 1965-era MAD humor for an era that was rollin' on the floors to George Carlin, but even a casual look at the various skits that appeared on his show (via. youtube 'natch) shows that the guy was, if anything, the last harbinger of that old college-styled humor doin' it at a time when the only ones who really got the gags were those necktie 'n underarm stain guys who'd huddle around the coffee pot Mondays and relay their favorite skits from the show. An aside, THE GHOUL holds up well too even though alla the Ghoulariacs used to hate him with a passion, but (back to Big Chuck) ya gotta admit that, even when the mooms were goin' from horror to Grade-A and the jokes were beginning to reek of Michael Jackson and Madonna references, Shadowski was helping to extend that great era of early tee-vee farther than anyone else out there at that point in time would dare (if they really "cared") to do.

Shodowski's autobio's been out for over seven years now, but it's now been cheapified and if you're as much of a fan of pre-hippoid/sophisticado brainy tee-vee as I am you'll probably eat this up faster than Brad Kohler goin' down on a bean curd patty inna Strip District. I like it because it's got that down home straight-from-the-guts sorta feeling you never did find in Nora Ephron, and reading his story of growing up Polish in Cleveland and just lucking his way into tee-vee and his own show does remind me of just how great things coulda been for some people who just had that knack to break outta the usual doldrums and do something really worthwhile that would satisfy a lotta hard-working and proud-loafing pimplefarm fanablas like ourselves!

Lotsa funny stories abounding in BIG CHUCK! that sound typical of the kinda antics that you would expect go on in some tee-vee stations filled to the brim with guys who would probably be better put to use as lab rats for hemmorhoid research than in front of or behind the cameras. Of course the actions of Ernie "Ghoulardi" Anderson himself made a good book in itself (one worthy of me re-reviewing once I dig into my old stored away boxes) as doe the advent of the Houlihan-era show with Bob Wells itself, and between the stories, the pix and the general atmosphere this read exudes you'll be reminded of just what a powerful force and friend to the fambly television was, at least until the Politically Pious and proper began relegating LITTLE RASCALS shorts and even early episodes of ALL IN THE FAMILY to the furnace because well, like, they know better and we can only trust them because like, they know better!

Of course there are some things left outta here and it ain't like I woulda expected them to be put here inna first place but if they were...WWWWHHHHHOOOOAAAA!!! Like f'rinstance, supposedly Chuck and original sidekick "Hoolie" either hated each other to bits throughout the show's run or began to hate each other at some point in time (and if you can't believe them high school rumors goin' 'round, who can you believe?) but nothing was brought up about that. I guess it was a temporary thing since the pair ultimately patched things up for some tee-vee special and perhaps another soiree, but dangle enough fame in some people's faces and maybe even I'd appear chummy in a photo shoot with Dave Lang!

What perhaps is not that much of a rumor but recorded fact is Ernie Anderson's very last interview before his own passing, one which reportedly had him cussing not only Big Chuck but Houlihan's replacement Li'l John Rinaldi up and down the swear-strewned page for reasons I'm not quite sure about! Chuck has nada but praise for the once-goateed Cleveland host so perhaps he never got to read the thing, or perhaps he's being kind because well, Anderson was on his last legs at the time and who knows what them meds were doing to his mind. But y'know, I really would like to know what was really REALLY goin' on behind the scenes.

And of course there ain't a word about Ron Sweed a.k.a. the Ghoul, the gorilla-suited kid who used to pop up on GHOULARDI and, after calling his new employers "Houlihan and Upchuck" skeedaddled over to 61 to do his own take on his previous employer's role in a rather new if slightly not-quite-"there" according to the experts adaptation. Obviously the two hate each other, but sheesh, wouldn't you have liked to have seen Shodowski lash out at the guy perhaps causing a bigger rift on Northeastern Ohio tee-vee since Sweed himself sued "Son of the Ghoul" back inna late eighties???

And in no way would I expect THIS to happen, but since Chuck goes outta his way to mention just about every celebrity both local and international he was met or worked with, howcum nothin' here 'bout the time that David Thomas aka CROCUS BEHEMOTH took on Mushmouth Mariano Pacetti in a pizza eating contest, losing to the longtime champ and occasional Big Chuck skit actor? Guess he just wasn't that much of a celebrity for this book....hisssssssssssssssssss.............

Needless to say despite the omission of the future Rocket From The Tombs frontman I liked BIG CHUCK! complete with alla the tales of fambly matters and behind-the-scene jagoffs that shouldn't matter to me because, like, I wasn't there though they read so good. But after reading this I kinda wish that I was, even though I prefer the "confines" of UHF-TV to big city impersonal VHF which never did have that low-fi down home zing.  It's a nice period piece about a nice time when the social planners and do-gooders who run things today didn't quite have the same influence on us like they do now (meaning people could get away with rather innocuous yet chortling humor dealing with blacks, Polish and Eyetalian types like they did on this show!), and with a whole load of those old time tee-vee faves long gone and the spirit of tee-vee with 'em, I'm sure glad that Chuck is at the very least still alive and beating!

What a bee-youtifully gloomy Saturday morning we're having right now what with alla that overcast, rain and downright depressing weather that resonates powerfully within my system! Takes me back to that one fall morning back 1971 way when I was stuck at my uncle/aunt/cousins' house and in the midst of what was appearing to be a rained-out garage sale my uncle took me to the now-demolished Valley View department store where I bought one of those 35-cent "Giant" issues of WORLD'S FINEST! Y'know, the title which used to feature Superman and Batman (later Superman and someone/thing else) battling the bad boys of the DC empire, only this one reprinted some of those early-sixties adventures where Superman and Batman would tangle with the likes of aliens and time-travel in a way that certainly did not fit in with the socio-relevant comics that DC was churning out at the time. I still recall (and with fondness too!) that very day protected from the elements snuggled up on the couch reading this still-inexpensive-enough comic book through twice (my uncle even saying that since I read the thing already maybe I should return it and get my money back!) and if I hadda live any day over again in my life well...it wouldn't be this one that's for sure! Y'see, we had asparagus for supper.

But still, if I had my druthers I'd be curled up on the comfy chair in my boudoir right now reading that very same comic (or at least another issue of it which I re-bought years later and reviewed on this blog somewhere although I can't find the proper post to link up!), but I'm not. I'm typing this post out for you so you can find out exactly what kinda music has been jiggling my jangles this past week or so and (once again) thanks to Bill Shute, Paul MGarry 'n the folks at Bruit for their contributions to the cause. Personally I think this one's a must-dig blogpost to bookmark for all eternity, but as usual you'll think otherwise...

Various Artists-LAST OF THE GARAGE PUNK UNKNOWNS VOLUME 2 CD-r burn (originally on Crypt)

More scrape-scrape-scrapin' than an abortion clinic's goin' on with these volumes of rare mid-sixties teenage garage band wonders, and for a buncha scrapin's they're pretty good ones if I do say so myself! Nothing that would fit in on that other Crypt-label collection BACK FROM THE GRAVE true, but this still's got some fine mumblings from the likes of Our Gang (and not the kind with that chubby gal singer), Half Pint and the Fifths, and a whole buncha guys you probably beat up and pissed on back when they were goin' to school with you some time inna sixties. You've known the drill for ages and should know by now to pick this up w/o me having to spin a few hundred platitudes in its behalf. However I will mention that the unknown group's version of "Got Love If You Want It" coulda held its own with any English nth-stringer intact, but you'll have to wait for the LAST OF THE TRANS-WORLD PUNK RAVEUPS series to find out for yourself.

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THE FRIGHTENING LIGHTS LP (Bruit Direct Disques, France...check Forced Exposure as well)

Parisian torch singer Fifi Fontaine and her accompanist try to break a world's record by performing a marathon set at the Wilkes-Barre Pennsylvania Holiday Inn lounge. This is her during the fourteenth hour, and that bloke at table two still hasn't ordered a drink! Slow, lush, perhaps lethargic yet ethereal and suckering you in music from this duo who recall everyone from MARBLE INDEX-era Nico to the Shangs and even some of those obscure Japanese acts that appeared on THE NIGHT GALLERY sampler. THE FRIGHTENING LIGHTS are so sluggish that this would make good backdrop for a constipated toidy session, but it has that interesting "real" avant garde approach and appeal to it just the same.

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4th CEKCION CD-r burn (originally on Solar Records)

Drat...y'see I kinda was hoping that 4th Cekcion were gonna be one of those late-sixties Texas psychedelic bands that were still around even after the likes of the 13th Floor Elevators had skooted off for asylums unknown. But what did I get but this horn rock act that has about as much verve to it as the bumper music for an episode of THE MIKE DOUGLAS SHOW. A sad shame since I'll betcha that everybody involved with the Cekcion was probably in some super-boffo rock act that might have even given the better known acts of the local scene a run for the lysergic money!

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Various Artists-EXTERMINATION NIGHTS IN THE SIXTH CITY, CLEVELAND OHIO PUNK AND THE DECLINE OF THE MID-WEST 1975-1982 CD (Soul Jazz, England)

These Soul Jazz releases may be ultra-repeato when it comes to my own personal collection, but the good side of it is that now I don't have to shuffle through a good forty years of stacked singles to find the Pressler/Morgan Hearthan release nor do I have to worry about wearing out the grooves even more when I play "Drano In Your Veins" for the umpteen-thousandth time. Some glaring omissions true (like, why no Milk?) and I don't see how the Human Switchboard could be considered a Cleveland act, but Jon Savage's liner notes are entertaining even if we've known the drill for ages. I mean, it's sure nice seeing these releases getting some NOTICE for a change. Best of all, the whole idea of these Soul Jazz Cle/Ako/Kento collections flies in the face of that whole Bruno Bornino/Anastasia Pantsios dribble goin' around at the time that these groups were just mere aberrations and nothing to pay attention to what with Michael Stanley speaking to/for an entire generation of workshirt narcissistic types. Can you believe that?

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AN EVENING WITH QUENTIN CRISP CD-r burn

Yeah I know, you probably want to spend an evening listening to Quentin Crisp about as much as you'd like to spend it in a hot tub with him. And I do agree with you. However, on this particular disque the nekkid civil servant doesn't bore you with ribald tales of s*xual conquests and the proper care and cleaning of your doodyhole like you thought he would. Naw, he just bores you with talk about a whole load of subjects under the sun while ritzy New Yawkers listen with rapt attention. Frankly I was taken back to those sorry days of higher education when I'd have to listen to the wavering tones of some aged professor expounding on the whys and wherefores of some long gone Greek guy. Only this time I didn't hafta take any notes, and I'll bet I'd get better'n a "C" even without trying!

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The Merseymen-VISIT TO THE BEATLE INN CD-r burn (originally on Zodiac, New Zealand)

Haw, that's a good way to get the Aunt Flabbies and Uncle Ferds of this world to pick up some definitely not exactly whatcha think it is elpee. Slap the word Beatle onna from of the thing and even a pic of 'em t' boot and you'll have the entire Jack Benny Fan Club stomping into your record department to gobble these things up and dish 'em out to their teenage relatives who naturally want the real thing!

Of course that ain't exactly what was going on here, what with the Aukland teen club pictured on the front being called the "Beatle Inn" and the group the Merseymen being a local teenage cash in on one of the bigger musical movements since Johann S. Bach discovered curlers.

Good enough versions of the biggies (Manfred Mann, Holly, Berry...) that might get a little too soft in the translation but still do me fine. Even the scant originals show signs of promise, and the performance is "there" without being tepid. Goes to show you that even the copycats of the mid-sixties had a lot more to offer us than the "serious" FM rock types who cluttered up the late-sixties and after.

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Original Music and Stars from the Warner Bros. Hit Television Show HAWAIIAN EYE CD-r burn (originally on Warner Brothers)

These tee-vee soundtrack albums usually don't conjure up the fun feeling we actually had watching these shows, but this HAWAIIAN EYE 'un does manage to transcend the "eh!" Nice pre-hippie FM sorta lilt to this, and even the vocal numbers tend to stand out. By the way, I remember when this show was being rerun (don't recall the original airings) on channel 33 during the afternoon hours on Sundays when I was a kiddiegarden ager, and I would be totally TERRIFIED of that big tiki they used to show between commercials...and I do mean run out of the room crying scared worthy of any choice episode of OUTER CREATURES or TWIBLIGHT ZONE not to mention a Conelrad test! In fact I hadda be told when it was safe to re-enter the tee-vee room once that evil-looking thing was gone, and even to this day I get a bit of the chills just thinking about that South Seas idol with those big alien eyes and square forehead. Funny but I never got the scares watching ADDAMS FAMILY or THE MUNSTERS at exactly the same time, but this show...wooooh!

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Galactic Explorers-EPITAPH FOR VENUS CD-r burn (originally on Psi-Fi, Germany)

I heard that this electronic offering is actually a blatant hoax, but frankly if you like early-seventies krautrock enough you won't care one iota if it is or not. A trio of keyboard players make a slow, ethereal sound that's partially reminiscent of early-seventies Tangerine Dream and a whole lot more reminiscent of the early Klaus Schultze efforts. Analog-sounding too! Really, if this platter is a recent recording packaged up to recall earlier triumph I'm sure hoping that a whole load of OTHER hoaxes make their way to my door as well!

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WE'RE THE BANANA SPLITS CD-r burn (originally on Decca)

Here's a platter that's guaranteed to give Lindsay Hutton a hard-on on his death bed. Yes, the original Banana Splits did release an album and it was a pretty dandy one too given that these guys didn't exactly burn up the charts the way the Monkees and Archies did. And although there's a whole lot lost in translation from tee-vee to disque (after all, it ain't the same without watching the foursome frolic at King's Island) I can't complain about the sounds to be found herein. The best cliches of the day (sitars, baroque modes) are put to better than adequate use and they still sound snappier than the entire Grunt and Round Record catalogs put together. Good tunes, snappy lyrics and if anything'll get you in the mood for a Three Musketeers cartoon it's this!

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The Pretty Things-THE SWEET PRETTY THINGS (ARE IN BED NOW OF COURSE) CD-r burn (originally on Repertoire)

Yeah it's nice seeing this long-lived rock act still up and about this far down the line, but I gotta admit that just about everything I've heard by the Pretty Things from about FREEWAY MADNESS on really doesn't do much for my sense of rockism. Oh most of it is what I would call palatable and perhaps even exhilarating in spots, but none of it can measure up to what the group had been doing back when Viv Prince was getting beat up in Australia or New Zealand and they were the toast of every maladjusted longhair punk world-wide. Well at least they're still alive, though I must admit that I nary got a throb thrill jolt outta this one like I did with GET THE PICTURE.

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Various Artists-FLOPPING TEENTONE DISCOUNT CHESSMEN CD-r burn (Bill Shute)

Wonder where they dug up some of the early/mid-sixties garage band stuff that pops up on this 'un...probably right next to Paul Revere's horse or something like that. Still good listening here what with the Teentones trying to cut in on the Cascades market with their sullen teenage rock that sounds perfect for your next drive to the Dog House, while the Chessmen sound just like every other band that copped the same name sometime between the birth of the British Invasion and the arrival of that guy with the raincoat and shades who used to hang around the school parking lot around dismissal. Even wilder are the Hitch Hikers, whose "Beaver Shot" sounds like a Gizmos song in gestataion. The "song poems" from Brosh Records are just as cornballus as your Uncle Ferd likes 'em while those radio ads Bill always sneaks in bring back memories of me being stuck inna car after school because of some stupid reason or another. If memories are made of these, then my entire turdler-pimplefarm existence was one of being stranded in some sorta automobile while some relative was holed up at the drug store waiting for a perscription to be filled.