I guess it's that time, and no I don't mean that time as in "time of the month" when you feel like locking your wife in a cage for a few days either! Naw, I'm talkin' 'bout time for another big deal a d maybe even long awaited by some BLOG TO COMM post. Well, to be honest about it nothing really superspectacular has happened 'round here since our last get together and it ain't like I'd call this particular doozy one of my best efforts either but hey, with the heavy drag of real life taking up a good portion of my time as well as the ever-continuing saga regarding my eyes (as well as parathyroids) I'm surprised that I was able to crank this particular sausage out!
So ya better know what yer in for (which maybe ain't that much but hey, who am I to judge?), and while yer at it watch out for the typos caused by my hopefully to improve one of these days eyesight! gee, do yu guys feel sorry for me NOW???If so maybe I should start up a GoFundMe page---betcha I'd really rake the cash sent by you heart wrenched readers like crazy!
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At least I have had some precious time to plop myself smack dab in front of the tee-vee, an activity which I proudly will say has lasted a lifetime or at least did until the boob tube got rather crude and quality-free sometime in the early-eighties. And when I talk abut tee-vee I mean WESTERNS, a form that never did appeal to me when I was a sprout but means all the more these days, especially when the concept of heroism and manliness seem to have been washed away by what we knew all along was the end result of the hippie dream which anyone with a brain woulda seen as a snake oil sham way back when it was first in bloom.
Kinda worn out my welcome with the classic black 'n white GUNSMOKE reruns on INSP, but the daily RAWHIDEs have been fillin' the bill with the kinda action that I crave in my rather free spirited soul. However even those are getting too re-runny for me which is why I've also been gravitating towards WAGON TRAIN, a show which I recall being watched here at the ol' abode way back when (not only on prime time but when ABC was showing the old ones in the afternoon).
WAGON TRAIN continues to hold up even sixty years after the fact, not only with the mostly snazzy sagas and big name guests but with characters that, like in any great fifties/sixties series worth its weight in Crispyjack, you can identify with and even get to like in yer own corny suburban slob sorta way. Gotta say that I prefer the early Ward Bond ones (even though that guy has one big strike against him for appearing in that ultimate corn classic IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE) but even the John McIntire ones have their own sense of suburban slob tee-vee class. I only with that fetv would air the 90-minute color ones from the '63-'64 season but I guess we can't have everything, which come to think of it is the story of my life.
Anyway, as a surprise I thought I'd just tag on for you this particularly good episode entitled "Little Gitl Lost" which appeared during the show's final season back '64/'65 way. A strangie for sure which ome imdb commenter described as WAGON TRAIN meets THE TWILIGHT ZONE, this 'un really does have a lotta the soul grip and heart tug that comes off real life even in these cold cyborg days when we're supposed to feel sorry for the sickest aspects of society while ignoring the attributes that reflect man at his best. Sheesh, even crusty old me has gotta admit to feeling kinda lump-throated at the supernatural yet heartfelt climax, but I guess that only goes to show just how softheaded this ol' fanabla can beletting a li'l ol' show get the best of him!
Anyway, here's "Little Girl Lost" for your own personal enjoyment and if you don't like it well, you just can't call me your friend no more!:
Another big watch here at BTC headquarters is MANNIX, the classy private eye show that was a Tuesday night reg'lar in our abode, at least until the Orson Welles/Lillian Gish-hosted anthology of early cinematic classics entitled THE SILENT YEARS ran opposite on the local PBS station. Again, I gotta say that it's sure grand watching a series like this which features a cool and suave yet not nauseating tough guy lead character who constantly goes up against them bad boys who I really hope either get that bullet from Mannix's gun or better yet knocked over some high rise railing from a well-deserved punch in the jaw. Yeah, I know that my thirst for an entertainment which displays hard-edged justice delivered in a particularly violent manner definitely makes me that knuckle-dragging mouth breather you twats out there have imagined me to be ever since I've been bursting your politically pious bubbles these past thirtysome years but hey, it was programs like MANNIX which helped mold this particular being into the strong and upstanding man he most certainly is today --- certainly not those botched abortions they call television series that have been produced ever since the late-seventies at the earliest. In an age where the concepts of right and wrong not to mention masculinity and femineity have been pretty much been trashed and denigrated only to be replaced by such strange concepts as "gender fluidity", programs like MANNIX only mean all the more, making me mis that world I used to live in when you at least could spot the good guys without needing some sort of roadmap
Another show I like glomming is EMERGENCY!, a show i skipped back when it was first aired because it seemed so booooring but nowadays settles me into beddy-bye time rather nice and snug-like. It may be somewhat true that the between-action storylines where the guys at the fire station talk about various inanities like burnt chili or their sick fire dog can drag you down quite a bit, but the action sequences display more excitement than one tuning in after THE LAWRENCE WELK SHOW could usually handle. 'n besides, Julie London is one of the sexiest older women I've ever seen on tee-vee what with that droolsome nurse's uniform the kind of which have unfortunately been replaced by scrubs o'er the past twentysome years. Come to think of it, sexy nurses have been replaced by plumpoid harridans o'er the past twentysome years as well! And you tell me, which kinda nurse do you want when it comes enema time?
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Gotta thank the usual parties for their contributions to the war effort, particularly Paul McGarry not to mention Thierry Muller who also dropped off a nice load in my mailbox. I also found an old Feeding Tube platter that I sorta brushed aside when my life was heading off in a direction that sure didn't allow me for such frivolities as listening to much music. Hopefully that situation will change once things begin to settle down around here, which from my calculations should be around December --- of 2055 that is.
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And now, for a rather entertaining interlude which I know you will all enjoy:
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Before we begin with today's festivities a personal plea. I know how kind and thoughtful you readers are, but are any of you just kind and thoughtful enough to make copies of the following fanzine more me??? PANACHE #'s 1 and 2, and JUNGLELAND 1 through 4 and 8. C'mon, its all for a good cause, mainly me. Pretty please with sugar on top?????
I was a bit wary, but learned to love the ultra-introspective nature of this English neo-folkster whose music conjures up a whole load of past accomplishment from THE MARBLE INDEX (really!) to those turn of the century Japanese psychedelic retrogobbers who took up a whole lotta my attention and wallet space during those rather forgettable days. Toned down and reflective yet not self-pitying (not that I mind that, if I'm the one doing the self-pity that is), CONVLESENCE is a nice little stripped down listening affair that will please even the more cynical of BLOG TO COMM readers. Not only that but the Doozer is THEE singer/songwriter for those of you who have always wanted to bust James Taylor in the mouth.
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Once again Gregory Raimo drops a hydrogen bomb of an album (or in this case cassette) on us leaving alla you pampered pooches in such shock that you can't even run home to the comfort of your mother's boobies. Hard overdrive rocknroll is once again in store, and it's played to such a fever pitch that those usually daft comparisons to the velvet Underground and Stooges that I have made these past fortysome years sound even more banal than they usually have.. So out-there powerful that alla those eighties hopes of ours (Halo of Flies, the Australian bands) sound pattycakes in comparison. Maybe High Rise with a tad of LSD March added? Hey Raimo, if you read this tell us how we can get a copy for ourselves.
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Yup it's the same Sid Vicious show that's been bootlegged from here to Birch Way and back since the early eighties. 'n hey, for a throwaway gig capitalizing on some current events that just wouldn't getcha an "A" in school it does work some sort of wonder. Not only that, but it presages alla them other throwaway tossout punk shows that would be making the rounds around the time Sid's body temperature was matching that of the air around him .Which I'm sure really stunk the atmosphere around him up, but fortunately this recording won't lend itself to any irritation, aurally or olfactory-wise.
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Wanted to hear this oft spoken about in hushed tones act for quite an eon already and, thanks to the miracle of Paul McGarry, finally got the opportunity to do so. Can't see what alla the real fuss was about since there were a good number of white urban blues bands treading the same area for ages, but as far as these kinda acts go who can blame the El Lay contingent for paying as close attention to Jimmy as they did. Still the Don Snowden description of Butterfield meets the Sonics rings heavily in my head --- perhaps its time for me to have my third ear cleaned out a little more thoroughly.
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Yes, I am embarrassed. Y'see, I'm not an open minded holes-in-the-head individual like I assume almost all of you readers are, and the idea of even sitting down to listen to "the first openly gay punk rock group" isn't anything that, howshallIsay, appeals to my own personal sense of decency. Especially when the lead singer of the group admitted that he's in favor of pedophilia as long as the kid enjoys it which is totally OK unless someone on the right wing is engaged in such nefarious acts at which point its nothing but shame shame shame....
But heh, Hot Lunch (I mean, with a name like that how gay c'n ya get?) really do exemplify the better aspects of what punk rock was supposed to mean to tons of cloistered suburban slob kids, some of whom actually might have been welcomed at a post-gig party. Singer Emilio Cubiero's gruff 'n bellowing New Yawk accent belies his more, er, effeminate tendencies as he screams about matters that might even tend to have a more hetero turn to 'em (it's a good thing that the quality of this recording is of an audience variety or otherwise I might be able to actually make out them words!) while the musicians evoke everything from Thunders to Roxy Music, the latter via a nameless to me number which begins with a feedback roar that reminds me of those Grateful Dead closers of the late sixties which usually turned out to be the most entertaining part of their sets. Pretty hotcha roar there and hey, for a buncha SODOMITES they sure do a good enough job of keeping the entire set as high energy as it most certainly is.
Tacked onto the end's Hot Lunch's rare single "Dizzy"/"Celebrate the Criminal" which has the same sorta prowl and hard-edged drive of a whole load of similar-minded punk efforts of them days. Not only that, but it really sounds great in places. Unfortunately, those are the kinda places where you have to watch yourself lest something grave happens to your nether regions, so I'd advise you to keep a close eye out for yourself lest you get an unintended lesson in Greek and Roman culture.
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Well whaddaya know but here 'tis the entire Peter Tork CBGB show what has been floating around the ether as of the past few months! Not only is the sound a great improvement over the one that we were privy to a good two decades back but the additional songs have this certain hotcha spark that sorta comes off like a strange twist of late-sixties AM pop and mid-seventies street snazz. Contains a cover of "Werewolves of London" that's even as good as the ones the Flamin' Groovies and Roky Erickson did! I remember Lester Bangs giving Tork the bum's rush via a front-cover VILLAGE VOICE smearjob, something which only goes to show ya that even these bigtime cutting edge trendsetting scribes we used to be all agog over could really miss the target even when they were guaranteed to hit a bullseye.
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Can't find even a little bitta info on these Frenchmen (and screamin' Mimi) online. And that is a shame considerin' the eighties-styled post-something brand of grog that Quartet De Turc put out on this disque which I guess is the entity of four releases that got launched during or sometime after what I assume is the group's lifespan. Although the typical loud mouthed gal singer (who sounds just like every other punquette slammed in front of a mic during them days) dates this 'un in a not-so-appealing way, the rest of these Turcs are pretty solid in their approach. In all, they remind me somewhat of Blurt crammed in with any typical early-eighties under-the-underground artzy band with loads of those Loisada scronk moves sorta wigglin' their way into the mix. A little may go a looooooong way with some of you reg'lar readers, but as far as this breed of blare goes well, I find it a rather hearty once-in-a-lifetime sorta squall.
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You know just what I'm selling, and you know just how mad I am that you've been ignoring me lo these many years. For once quit feeling sorry for yourselves and feel sorry for ME! Wouldn't that be a wonderful change in your lives, eh?