I've been busier than an abortionist in a NYC ghetto as of late which is why I haven't scooted this 'un out to you a lot sooner 'n now. Well, it ain't like I'm exactly buried up to my britches in work but I still need more time to devote to kicking up my feet and goofing off while listening to music sans attempting to tell you just how I feel about it from the vast reaches of my soul, or brain, or something like that. I do try my best, but you all know what a failure I've been in life thus the delays in these writeups. You're gonna get what'cha expect, which might be blow-hardy at times so take it piece by piece like you should do all these megaposts.

Tedium seems to be the order of the day but by this time in life I've learned to love it. There is something about monotony that seems to benefit my spirit in the same way that the better rock 'n roll groups of the sixties and seventies used repeato riffs to create a warm blanket of sonic reduction that entices rather than bores. Who knows, maybe that's why I've been playing some of my pre-chitchat with the Dalai Lama-era Philip Glass albums as of late but whatever, I sure can't wait for the days when I can do nothing but hang around the house just like I did when I was a budding suburban slob and I preferred staying in my room 'stead of going out and associating with humanity. Sorta like today only I'll be able to do it 24 hours nonstop!

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Stale old news but still...r.i.p. to Lou Christie, a name in sixties music that many associate with the rash of rumors surrounding his...er..."private" (parts) affairs. You want to know the REAL reason why the gypsy cried??? Then there's Connie Francis, and I'm not gonna make any obvious jokes about her because the last time I did I got into some hot water with a certain person and I do want to avoid controversy on this blog (BTW my mother, who at first thought Connie was swell probably because they shared the same ethnic background, went 180 against her after Connie's misfortune at a certain NYC-area motel...I mean, Connie was clearly the victim in this case but my mother though she was TAINTED by the incident and it was nothing but disgust from thereon in!). Bobby Sherman also finally bit the dust---well, at least he lived long enough to enjoy the passing of David Cassidy who certainly stole Sherman's teen idol thunder and heavy duty like at that. And of course a shout out to Mick Ralphs who should be fondly remembered for his role in Mott the Hoople (an act that I find 50/50 myself to be honest about it), though co-founding Bad Company's something that he's really gonna hafta answer to St. Peter for.

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Big thank you to Robert Forward for the old Tom Donahue radio show from May 2 of 1967 with none other than Jerry Garcia and Phil Lesh sittin' in spinnin' the records and talkin' things up just like I'm sure they woulda back at their pad on Haight. By this time the Dead really had fizzled out and but good (but then again the only GD I will do the rah-rahs for are those 1965 demos straight out of PEBBLESville...dunno if SEASTONES counts) but as you'd guess their tastes in music were better'n their ability to take such tastes and do something good with 'em. Thus the listener that particular night would have been subjected to a whole slew of surprisingly interesting tracks from Charles Mingus to Blind Willie Johnson up through James Brown which only goes to prove that Gene Sculatti was right in labeling the early Dead as intellectual punk rock supremos before the press releases and chemicals really got to their heads.  

The two do come off somewhat phony intellectual (after all, wasn't that MUSIC OF BULGARIA album [a track of which pops up on this show or else I wouldn't be mentioning it] considered some sort of total hipster gotta have and gotta love possession for every true smarter than their parents type back then? I mean, if Paul Simon loved it I kinda get the idea that every ironed hair freedom rider gal out there did as well!). However, I can see how Nick Kent thought they actually came off like Amerigan college boy types with an honest interest in European culture back when he interviewed 'em for FRIENDS 'round '72 way...they are kinda gosh darn sincere 'n all. Sheesh, after all of this maybe I should give these bozos another go at it --- perhaps if I could separate the group from their FANS somehow...

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Current tee-vee jollies include weeknight perusals of JONNY QUEST, a program that I went totally nutzo for during my turdler years though when I caught up with reruns in the eighties I thought they were somewhat unexciting and even quite stale. In my advanced age I gotta say that this 'un's got everything that was custom-made for the sixties-vintage ranch house lardass plopped right in front of the idiot box kinda guy...there's the fine comic book-styled artwork and storylines (sorta like a cross 'twixt the tales one got during the 12-cent era and a smattering of post-WW II action strips borrowing more than a few ideas from Milton Caniff) to the finest animation I've seen broadcast outside of some snoozy cartoon television special that boasted top notch efforts but total boredom. Hoyt Curtin's theme song and incidental music ain't no slouch either what with that jazzy roaring brass all over the place helping to pump up the visuals even more. In many ways JONNY QUEST was one of the last gasps of boffo and real-deal Golden Age of Television considering that in a few short years the whole kit 'n kaboodle would (temporarily) lose a lot of the bared-wire intensity it had for the previous ten or so years what with the old line programs starting to lose their direction and the new efforts just not as potent as what had been dished out at Mr. and Mrs. Front Porch only a short time earlier.

One program I decided to catch if only to satiate my morbid curiosity was the mid-eighties revival of an early-sixties classic and I don't mean that hippified TWILIGHT ZONE either (a show which I admittedly liked even if I tuned out after awhile). I'm talkin' THE JETSONS, Hanna-Barbera's one-season wonder that flopped in the ratings because it was stacked up against Disney but grew in popularity due to incessant reruns that ya just couldn't avoid if you were living in a house with a pack of preteen turdburgers. Earlier in my lifecycle I caught a few minutes of these new 'un's here/there and didn't care for the animation much (too eighties-ish Hanna-Barbera crankout that probably took three times as many people to create as it did the superior originals) but decided to give them another go at it out of something a little less than morbid curiosity.

The revived JETSONS really ain't "that" bad, that is if you tweak your own personal tastemeters to suit your suburban slob outlook on tee-vee jollies. It's boff that the original voice actors were brought in before they all croaked, but it sure is tough listening to the likes of Daws Butler struggling to hit that high Elroy voice (and, come to think of it, George "Jetson" O'Hanlon was suffering from some heavy duty health issues 'round the same time even though it really didn't affect his vocal cords...maybe his lungs). Like I said the animation's rather television uninspired but I guess it could have been loads worse, and judging from some of the Hanna Barbera programs from the same time it sure was an improvement. And the storylines were actually OK even if the creeping tendency of eighties blanditude does date these in the same way that the original series is dated only in a good early-sixties fashion. Overall I'm glad these cartoons weren't botched by mid-eighties retroscuzz, but if you think I'm gonna stay up past snoozetime to watch any more of these you got another think comin'.

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It's infantile but it's fun! No, I don't mean grabbin' the weenie like you boys did from age two onward (and I do mean onward!) but more AI chicanery, this time of what are supposed to be the actual covers of that sixties-vintage Marvel Comics Group title THE SUBPAR SEVEN! Yeah the very concept's quite immature in a thirteen-year-old way or at least a bad idea that would have popped up in some mid-sixties comic book crudzine but eh, if I were a pre-pubesprout and I had this technology to work with I sure woulda been gung ho on creating such covers as these! The results look more 80s and beyond and definitely post-Kirby but anyway, these results are loads better'n anything any of the big and even small comic book companies have been able to cook up for quite a long time):

 

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After alla that cereal filler well, here be the reviews. Thanks to Paul, Bob, Fadensonnen, Thierry Muller and no one else (forgot who sent me the Destroyed CD, but whoever it was well...sorry it got lost in the rubble otherwise known as my bedroom).

The Destroyed-OUTTA CONTROL CD (available via bert@bertswitzer.com)

If it means a heck of a lot of difference to you, drummer Bert Switzer has a rather amazing pedigree not only having been influenced by Keith Moon and the Remains but having gathered up a certain number of friends who just could have been instrumental in making the guy a household name. That never happened but it didn't stop Bert who kept churnin' out his own breed of basement rock including some recordings by this Boston group called the Destroyed, a name that seems somewhat familiar in the back reaches of my cavernous cranium. 

This release begins with a Destroyed reunion of sorts with Bert bashing away behind guitarist and singer JD Jackson producing a roar that reminds me of various home-produced efforts from Metal Mike Saunders' Rockin' Blewz to those pre-Gizmo Kenne Highland tapes that circulated amongst the creepier of fanzine freaks back in the eighties. Like a lot of late-seventies punk rock, these guys rehash old heavy metal riffs in a way that would offend the more petunia readers of this blog to which I say OKAY!!!

Onetime big name in underground circles Henry Kaiser appears on a few tracks laying some of his experimental leads which sure sound good in this stew (never was a fan of the guy who always seemed to come off perfectly constructed to jigsaw into the tastes the people who would listen to him --- nothing wrong with that but I felt his presence a little too howshallIsay "obvious"). Sheesh. these remind me a whole lot of DAILY DANCE so I really do have to give the man a huge reconsideration!

Filling out the disque are some actual real deal late-seventies recordings by the group. They come off just like you would have expect them to with the bargain basement cassette quality improving the overall intensity just like it did with all of those other classic definitely lo-fi seventies recordings that continue to stand up to half-mastered virgin vinyl efforts the kind that alla them STEREO REVIEW nuts used to skid shorts over. Overall, a really interesting effort from these guys who I'll bet hardly any of you knew about and wouldn't care to know about, but that's not gonna stop me from educating you random clump of cells out there.

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By Any Means-LIVE AT CRESCENDO 2-CD-r set (originally on Ayler Records, Sweden)

Not much is known (at least by me) 'bout this late-00's configuration with new thing biggies Charles Gayle, Rashied Ali and William Parker, but the trio swing swell here in a fashion that brings back to me some of the more gnarllier moments of the old Sam Rivers-thrusted loft jazz scene documented on the you should have had 'em for years already WILDFLOWERS albums. 

Gayle in general brings up (at least in my rather hollow mindset) everyone from Henry Threadgill to even Roscoe Mitchell and a number of other seventies players I'm too stupid to know about but will discover in a good twenty or so years should I live so long. Parker's versatile enough to the point where you don't even feel like snoozing during his bass solo and like, what else can be said about Rashied Ali who ranked as one of the better out-of-the-groove drummers during the early prominence of the new jazz way back in the total eruption days of the late-sixties. 

There are so many of these avgarde jazz things to choose from and if you're a person who is conscious of where your hard begged goes I know you will be cautious before considering an effort like this. Heaven only knows how much $$$ I've squandered merely on hunch. But you might go for this 'un if you are a devoted follower of the form and still have the same fervor for the free sound that you did when you were a teenbo and you read somewhere where Frank Zappa mentioned Cecil Taylor 'r something along those lines. Not bad really...in fact a tip topper effort from three players, two who are no longer around to be ignored like they were most all of their lives.

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Marion Brown-LIVE AT CLUB LABRATORIUM CD-r burn

This came out as a bootleg cassette a good five or so years back, something I find a bit strange considering that no legit label devoted to the New Thing was conscious enough to release it legal-like. Sound is flat (though a pro company could make it sound really spiffy) but the performance is just what you'd hope a jazz act would have come up with during the cataclysmic 60s/70s cusp. 

This has Brown and trumpeter Leo Smith playing with a buncha krauts (including Teutonic jazz bigwig Manfred Eicher on bass) doing it slow and bared-wire intense recalling some of Brown's then-contemp. albums, the one on ECM with Braxton and Chick Corea coming to mind. Perhaps Smith's presence does lend somewhat of an AACM approach which is heightened by the heavy use of "small instruments" of a percussive variety.  

A nice slow burn play that reminds me of PEOPLE IN SORROW which would figure given the time and locale (Europe during the days of the great afro-jazz expat).

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Drew Gardner-THE RETURN CD-r burn (originally on Astral Spirits Records)

While we're on a jazz jag...well I can't say that this '95 session breaks any new ground, but it sure is a fine harkening back to the late-sixties burst of creativity that was so noticeable that even a few suburban slob kids were paying attention (yeah, a rehash of thought first delivered in the By Any Means review but like, I wrote these up a good two months apart so stow the snide!). Stellar lineup including the shoulda/oughta be legendary John Tchicai who most of you will probably remember from his appearance with John Stevens on the live portion of the John Lennon and Yoko Ono LIFE WITH THE LIONS spinner...that's him getting particularly squonky right when the song unfortunately fades out. This sesh ain't as nerve grating as the Lennon/Ono show but eh, some of you will go for it.

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The Equals-EQUALS SUPREME/SENSATIONAL EQUALS CD-e burn (originally on Repertoire Records, Germany)

"Baby Come Back" ain't on here (unless you got a special burn made for me by Paul McGarry), so superficial fanablas'll probably want to skip on this given their inherent shallowness. And considering how the Equals were pretty hit or miss, with some pretty on-target island-tinged pop songs intermingled with comparatively pallid efforts, you might want to skip on the thing as well. Features the talents of one Eddy Grant, the first black artist to pop up on the MTV screens (this during the days of rock music finally tumbling deep into the abyss) even though superficial wonks like to say it was Michael Jackson all along.

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PSYCHIC PIGS CD-r burn (originally on Slovenly Records, England)

It sure is nice hearing a punk rock group in the here and now that hasn't succumbed to the prevailing hippie tide of pink hair 'n protest! This duo creates a great straight-ahead roaring breed of rock 'n roll that brings back memories of some of those early/mid-eighties outfits who were too smart to believe alla that kultured dribble regarding punk rock being dead yet were too smart to dive whole hog into that radical left warmed over hippie drool that was nothing but them kids from BILLY JACK in Doc Martens once you get down to it. Today, like fortysome years back, the roar of real punk rock 'n roll is here to fight off the precocious strains of pampered pooch piousness!

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Wire-SEND CD-r burn (originally on Pinkflag Records, England)

Gotta say that I find a lot of these later-on Wire LPs (wha' th' heck---maybe even some of the earlier ones as well) not that bad. Hit or miss as far as some go perhaps, and this 'un 's quite the same what with the roar coming off potent in spots yet sounding like the same old heard them avgarde musical moves many times before in others. But hey, I'll take this over just 'bout any of the other late-seventies survivors of the English punk brigades who were still up and about when this offering was made. But then again I find a good portion of it more of the usual blare...a good blare mind you but y'know, nothing I'd care to spin when stacked up against the Electric Eels'r somethin'.

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Pascal Comelade-LES LIMINANAS TRAITE DE GUITARRES TRIOLECTIQUES CD-r burn (originally on Because Records, France)

This guy has a discography longer than anyone you know's arm, but I never did come across any of Comelade's music during my many-a-years of listening (not that I was looking...). The man plays what sounds like electronic takes on late-sixties instrumentals, sorta like Kim Fowley's BORN TO BE WILD without any of the gals on the cover 'r somethin' like that. Needs a low-budget German film from the seventies to go along. "A Wall of Perrukes" kinda reminds me of Cluster during their ZUKERZEIT days or even La Dusseldorf once the late-seventies began rolling in. And by the way track #8 "Green Fuz" is not the Randy Alvey song made popular by its appearance on PEBBLES.

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And if you were stoopid enough to make your way through this post then you're just the kind of person who is just ready-made for a whole slew of BLACK TO COMM back issues! Get some, shit some!

BOOK(S) REVIEW! FRITZI RITZ VOLUMES 8, 9 and 10 (Midcentury Comics, 2024)

I mourned the capitulation of Gwandanaland Comics for a short period of time (mainly because I finally learned how to spell "Gwandanaland"), but I guess that Midcentury Comics is picking up where those public domain perusers left off. Picked up in a good way too, 'cause starting your new publishing firm off with a ten volume (maybe even more!) selection of FRITZI RITZ Sundays is certainly a smart way to get the balls rollin. Crazed Bushmillians like myself who grew up with NANCY and remained loyal throughout the years deserve as much of his work as we can get, and Gocomics and "X" can only deliver so much regarding those single-digit thrills I certainly got reading the comics while spread out on the parlor floor! Besides, it's so hard to drag the computer into the bathroom where I seem to be getting most of my comic book reading done these days.

For quite a long time Aunt Fritzi had her own Sunday comic running concurrently with her niece's, at least until the mid-sixties by which at that time NANCY creator Ernie Bushmiller was clearly not the artist (whoever was doing it had a brash, wide-lined style but was reams better'n most of the NANCY artists who took over in his wake). As you'd guess even if you are a half-braincell'd person, these Sundays focused on Fritzi and seemed to deal mostly with her love/hate relationship with fuddy duddy boyfriend Phil Fumble, a definitely non-masculine blob of a weakling type who many believe was an actual Bushmiller surrogate with his real life wife the tru blu Fritzi. Lucky guy!

Whilst giving these 30's/40's era Sundays a re-perusal I've noticed a number of things that definitely prove most of the anti-Bushmiller types we've ALL encountered downright wrong. The artwork is surprisingly detailed and dare I say immaculate. I remember some wonk out there once saying that Bushmiller didn't even draw his comics but used a whole bunch of rubber stamps...well, I know that the man's abilities faded away with age and all, but these comics are about as detailed and as crisp as any of the competitors. They're perhaps even on the same level of long-gone firmness as, say, ELLA CINDERS was during the same period. I must also admit that the stories and jokes are definitely not of a Scholastic Books level but were smart and downright witty. These FRITZI's are quite clever in the way they throw that psychic cream pie tossed in your face right when you least expect it.

One thing about these FRITZI RITZes which really should discredit the rubber stamp brigade's all of the sexiness that appears whether brazenly up-front or slyly in the background. There are many a panel with Fritzi in various stages of undress (or taking a bath) as well as lots of unabashed pulchritude to be seen whether it be hula girls or majorettes showing off their curvaceous legs. I'm surprised some prudes didn't go after this comic because of its overt potential pinup nature...this sure ain't the suburban slob kiddo world that Nancy lives in but grown up horniness transposed to the funny pages that's for sure!

Bad points...at times the small reproduction hurts dem eyes, and there are way too many repeats within these three volumes making me wonder just how many of the strips that appear here also show up in Midcentury's other FRITZI efforts. Eh, given just how Bushmiller-starved one can be you'll be glad to get these strips in any wayshapeform, but hurry up because when these go O.P. you'll be paying a whole lot more for these than you've ever bargained for!

COMIC BOOK REVIEW! MARVEL TALES #4, SEPTEMBER 1966 ISSUE (Marvel Comics Group)

Whilst immersing myself in all sorts of visual and aural stimulation during my just pre-pubesprout days, it was an unfortunate fact that by the time I became seriously involved in the early days of the Marvel Age of Comics these titles were all but impossible to latch onto. Sad to say, these much desired early-sixties Marvels that I had a hankerin' to read (especially considering the high regards I held for that period in time regarding music/art/television even at that early age) were long out of my reach and sheesh, for the most part even the reprint books that came in their wake couldn't be found in any of the comic book stacks that appeared in many a garage sale or flea market that I patronized. You can betcha bottom buckskin that such a predicament led to a whole load of heavy duty angst and anxiety on my part which I get the feeling has ruined me for the rest of my life...sheesh if I only had read these comics at the time when they were needed to help build me into the Complete Human Being that I so longed to be I just might have turned out a better person, or at least something passable. Who knows? But then again, maybe I might have turned out even more warped that YOU!

At least Marvel were still pumping out their various monster and fantasy reprint books which gave me a taste of what the early superhero entries were like what with that Kirby/Ayers and Steve Ditko artwork (not so much Don Heck although I don't like to pick on him the way many in the world of fandom did) that makes most post-1970s comic art look positively hackneyed. But on that rarer-than-rare occasion when some issue of MARVEL COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS or MARVEL TALES would manage to enter into my life well, you can be sure that I was happier than a bulldyke at an all gal high school track meet. Forget all of that OUR TOWN sappy go back in time for one day pablum that was made to appeal to the worst aspects in one's existence...if I hadda relive a day in my life it would be one where I did nothing but immerse myself in a whole stack of vintage 1962-65-era Marvels in my farted-up bedroom with doors bolted shut, and if someone wanted me to go to the store or take out the trash I'd make sure that the radio was on full blast thus to protect me from any extraneous noise! Sheesh but did I need that Kennedy-era fantasy and campy yet ingenious storylines that made these comics so different from the competition who were trying to ham it all up while falling flat on their faces I'll tell ya. 

Did I ever mention about the time when the school was having one of those game of chances and flea-market-y type fairs being held in the gym and there was an old book booth with reading matter that was way up my thirteen-year-old expansive alley? Of COURSE I have but for those of you new to the blog well...while helping to set up for the fair I espied not only an early-sixties NANCY paperback that I wanted oh so badly given how much that gal was a fond companion ever since the haziest of my turdler days but MARVEL COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS #1 which was something that I most dearly needed in that very early teenbo tubbo existence of mine. Wanted to pay for 'em right then and there but was told not to because well...these turdburgers always had their own reasons for such strange rules so I decided to just stand RIGHT BY THE ENTRANCE and be the first in line when the fair officially opened and snatch these and other necessary items up before anyone else could, and boy was I ready to pounce upon 'em as soon as the go was given! 

However, when the doors were opened and I rushed to that old books 'n mag kiosk these two must-haves were NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!!!!! You can bet I was disappointed and even asked the proprietor of the booth what the fug was goin' on but got one of those weak-kneed responses, something like the donor wanted them back which I gotta say smells fishier than your cyster's underwear. Talk about being burned beyond burned! 

I assumed that somebody with clout greater than mine actually swiped these items for his own reading pleasure or (what probably happened) someone with a grotesque hatred of me (and boy were there many!) snatched these titles knowing how much I wanted them and did so just to burn my butt! Yeah, that's most likely what happ'd, though I was able to console myself by finding one of the very last issues of DC's JERRY LEWIS comics to possess for my very own. Yeah, some consolation though I will say that, for some strange reason, that joke on the text page (JERRY LEWIS not-so-surprisingly enough did not have a lettercol given it was a supposedly comedy-oriented title and who cares about those?) where a now strictly verboten mention about an Indian who liked to put cough syrup on his pancakes continues to stick in my cranium. 

As you all know, I hold grudges for a real long time and in this case things are NO DIFFERENT! I'm still miffed about this incident even to this day, but I eventually managed to get hold of both the COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS and the NANCY book (the first one within the year and the second one a good twenny-five earthspins later). But sheesh, even to this day I am roasting mad that I wasn't able to pick these un's up when they were just within the reach of my grubby pre-adlo paws! 

Eventually, I bought up a whole bunch of these late-sixties Marvel superhero reprint titles given that the originals by then were even more far gone than these collections. I dug 'em, especially the earlier ones which used to reproduce the original covers albeit shrunk down considerably, and even to this day I still have quite a few of 'em that I've kept o'er the years rotting away in some corner of the hovel I call my home.

'nuff autobiographical goo in a hideously lame attempt for y'all to feel sorry for me but anyway, I got hold of today's subject in question very recently (and for a relatively good price) because the one I bought well over three decades back at some flea market actually had the Human Torch splash panel ripped out (t'was sealed and boy wasn't I such a trusting fanabla!). This 'un's intact and in pretty good condition, and considering that the tales featured in this one were only three years old when MARVEL TALES #4 came out it just goes to show you just how much in demand these stories for alla them Johnny-cum-latelies who were too poor or stupid (or in my case too turdler) to get these sagas when they first hit the stands.

The Spiderman story reprinted's features the return of Our Hero's old villain the Vulture that originally popped up late 1963, a time when alter ego Peter Parker was still wearing those unrealistic-looking round Janis Joplin spectacles that would fortunately get broken in the next ish and left off his face permanently. To be honest about it I gotta say that I like the glasses because they gave Parker a Clark Kent sorta demeanor but otherwise well, this is a hotcha story that thankfully reflects an early/mid-sixties aura that I always liked (and still do) in my media. It's yet another early Marvel-era camp up which satisfies enough even if I continue to wince at the way Parker is pushed around by All Amerigan Turd Flash Thompson who, just like everyone with looks, status and High Stool Cred, deserves the severe thrashing that Parker keeps fantasizing about giving him (let's face it, Parker AIN'T John Morton). Well, Parker don't wanna blow his cover so he just has to suck it up way more'n even Georgina Spelvin could, and what pre-teenbo pudge couldn't relate to that!

For one reason or another the Human Torch had his own series apart from THE FANTASTIC FOUR that ran in STRANGE TALES, and if you ask me it was a durn good one at least until the Thing became part of the act and the entire series flopped worse'n your high-flying goldfish. In this particular series Johnny Storm is living with his big cyster Sue (the Invisible Girl) in some Long Island high-end suburb and supposedly trying to keep his true identity a secret which is weird because well, in THE FANTASTIC FOUR everybody knew who he was so why the big hush hush? Why the sibs are living the suburban slob lifestyle 'stead of in the Baxter Building I do not know but it does make a nice setting for this new series which concentrates on the Torch's teenbo comings and goings away from the rest of the crew. Anyway in this 'un (the second solo Human Torch saga in case yer keeping tabs) the kid's stacked up against a John Carradine-looking badski called the Wizard who not only has the abilities to make Houdini come off Third Grade Amateur Hour but's got a great hankerin' to put the Torch out of business because hey, why not pick on some random superhero to disgrace if you're an evil sort with loads of hoohah to your name?

Thor was also starting up 'round the same time and, other'n the story where Kirby was busy elsewhere so Stan Lee got future Spire Christian Comics mastermind Al Hartley to do the honors, the entire JOURNEY INTO MYSTERY run was what I'd call about as perfect as one could be. Yeah, the soap opera-y subplot dealing with Thor's love for nurse Jane Foster was something that shoulda been shoved into some girly romance comic, but as far as creepy badboys and twisto-changeo plots go these were fab. Here Thor, while helping the US gub'mint test out the new "C" Bomb, meets up with yet another totally bald madman from the future who steals the weapon with Thor following him a good three centuries in order to retrieve it. Lemme tell you, the year 2262 sure looks like a fine place to live...guess that between here and the future all of the detrimental to civilization ideas that we're now living through have been vanquished and the kind of ideal world I'd sure like to exist in actually is going to come to fruition despite the overwhelming odds. Sheesh, not a pink-haired (supposedly) female creature in sight!

I've been an Ant-Man fan ever since that story where he shrunk himself and was injected into the Vision's bloodstream, and I (do tell, do tell!!!) prefer him over the various future Henry Pym variations like Giant Man and Yellowjacket who seemed so one-D compared with the other Marvel heroes that were cluttering up the late-sixties and early-seventies. In this January 1963-dated story from TALES TO ASTONISH the midgie superhero is pitted against the Scarlet Beetle, an insect with the mind of a somewhat intelligent but not quite rational puny human who uses Ant-Man's growth gas to become human-size and turn Earth into an insect-ruled dictatorship (as if it already weren't as any hot summer day will tell you)! Not so surprisingly enough this story resembles those earlier Marvel monster sagas where some overgrown alien/mutant threat to society is unleashed upon us, only this time a superhero 'stead of some everyday fanabla saves the world and as usual gets not a shred of credit for his good deeds.

's all good stuff and a reminder of the days when not only did comic art look like what you would expect to be peddled to a suburban slob pre-pubesprout but the stories celebrated heroism and the problems that sometimes would go along with being one. After reading these I have come to the conclusion that Marvel really was at its peak until it became so conscious of its place in the world of comicdom and Stan Lee's head became even more swelled than previous (if that really was possible). For a guy like me who likes his comics the way they were back when the publishers actually strived for good visuals, interesting and engaging stories and best of all that pre-hippie era sense of morality and hope for a better world (and not the dystopia many people seem to be striving for today) these early Marvel sagas really do live up to their legend even if we all knew what kind of a jerk Lee coulda been at times.

BOOK REVIEW! THE CRICKET - BLACK MUSIC IN EVOLUTION 1968-69 (Black Forums Editions, 2021)

Back in the kulturally-vapid eighties I was bemoaning the fact that there was not ONE fanzine out there in notice-me land that was devoted to the avgarde/free jazz idiom, one that was done up in a definitely Bangs/Meltzer "style" where various New Thing players from the fifties onward got written up, perhaps with a nod towards the various rock 'n roll acts who actively took various jazz moves and incorporated them into their own ranch house suburban slob styles. Heck even I thought about diving deep into such an endeavor only that I was one who was wanting to learn more rather than disseminate the information, and besides it wasn't like I had the moolah to involve myself in such a worthy project given how all of my hard-begged was going towards my own publishing efforts. Then again none of YOU did either so one big fie o' thee! We sure coulda used one tho.

I wouldn't exactly call CRICKET a fanzine even though a good portion of its space was taken up with coverage of the late-sixties movement in jazz cataclysm (making it not that different from the vast assortment of jazz fanzines that have been up and about since the thirties). It was more or less in the "small press" category given the credo of the people involved, but it was a mag that I would have somewhat envisioned coming out a good fortysome years back had a person out there only had the wherewithal to slap something along these lines together. With more pictures perhaps and that hard gonz writing style, but still CRICKET is an interesting surprise for this guy who probably heard of its existence a good time back and naturally forgot all about it.

There's a lot in here, even stuff that white people can like if you're the kind of white person who goes whole hog into the variety of aspects that have been poured into the font of  sixties/seventies new thing expression. LeRoi Jones soon to be Imamu Amiri Baraka by the fourth issue was the brains behind this "Jihad Publication" so's you'll get an idea what to expect even if there's only one Jewish ref that I've caught in the entire run.  Loads of hefty opinions and deep thought regarding the late-sixties black jazz experience, along with some nice 'n cutting putdowns regarding some allegedly dire efforts from people these guys expected more of (Shepp, Ayler) and some downright crass yet truthful enough opines with regards to some of the whiter breed of sounds (even if done by definitely black people) that was coming out of the tear yourself apart unless you were living in Sharon PA year of 1968. Rec reviews, poetry, short sagas etc. pop up in these pages and even you won't be bugged by the overt pro-afro ideals put forth (these being the pre Negro fatigue days) because the force and drive of Baraka and crew including A.B. Spellman and Larry Neal are for the most part things that any fan and follower of the avgarde would be bound to take to heart.

Heck you get some surprise guest writers here from Sun Ra to a pre-stodgy Stanley Crouch talking about the jazz scene as it relates to the New Black ideal, and besides it's great reading rebuttals to former Ornette drummer and all 'round humongous jazz being Shelley Manne's putdown of his former leader's THE EMPTY FOXHOLE and ten-year-old Ornette Denardo's magnifico efforts therein, or Milford Graves on the news aspects of percussiondom and the fact that drummers can make their own time 'stead of keep it. Best of all, these Angry Young Afro-Americans had yet to really go full froth against everything and seemingly everyone so the cringe factor is way down there...non-blacks can read on without any damage to their own sense of well being.

Neat part...the ad for various Jihad books/movies/records that pop up at the end of each and every issue. Back then you could buy the legendary SONNY'S TIME NOW for a mere five smackaroos which is a whole lot less that what it would cost you these days ($1000?), though if you wanted to rent the film version of Baraka's DUTCHMAN it would set you back a good $100 and in there here and now you can watch it here for free. There's also a soul album featuring the Jihad Singers which sounds like something that might be big on the hit parade these days. I get the idea that a good 99.999...% percent of the people who were reading THE CRICKET could not even afford a dollar pamphlet let along a five dollar album so llike, who exactly out there was buying all this up. If it were rich white kids doin' the ol' purchasing power game I'll bet Baraka woulda been more upset about it than the time he discovered that a good portion of his readership were jews!

Dang that thing I have to go through called REAL LIFE! Its not only keeping me busier than usual but its keeping me away from my music which really does affect my inner gyroscope ifyaknowaddamean... And considering just how things are hoppity hooperin' 'round here you're sure lucky to be getting this megapost from the outer reaches of Western PA, far from the major hubbub of the various high class hotspots of music and artziness. But hey, ain't that the glory of it all not having to hear about music from someone I'm sure we'd all call downright snobbish (in that sophisticated my shit don't smell and my musical/sociopolitical tastes make me rise above all you peons...the fanzine world of the 80s/90s was FULL of 'em) who've been oh so common since the days when pampered upper class kids developed their superiority complexes that reached to heights previously unimaginable?

Despite the curse of modern day existence I do try to slip some enjoyment into the mix. When I do have the opportunity (usually on a Sunday afternoon) I try to cram as much music into my system as possible, and my reading time has fortunately been extended somewhat beyond my bathroom doodies. I do have a fine line of book reviews to toss your way every so often, though I'd like to do some additional scrutiny on 'em before making these things public (my failing eyesight coupled with increasing brain fogginess does call for more'n just a few spelling and punctuational gaffes [unintentional ones] these days as you might have noticed). Besides, most all of these writeups regard the more comics-oriented portion of this blog and I don't necessarily want BLOG TO COMM to be "fixated" in such a fashion even if I find myself quite content in ogling old drawings of Betty and Veronica in bikinis these days. Maybe that's why I'm going blind.

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Some reader who wishes to remain anonymous remarked in the last post entry's comment section about me not noting the recent passing of one David Thomas aka Crocus Behemoth aka Dr. Science, a person who as most of you know was a looming presence in the history of seventies Cleveland underground rock. Frankly I figured that by the time one of these real-deal posts hit the screens the news of his passing would have been older than Methuselah but since you asked for it well... What can I say but the guy was a complex and dominating figure in the annals of underground rock, a frontman of extreme talent and from what I've heard a man with a personality that really coulda sent the more sensitive amongst us directly to the nearest cliff.

I no doubt about it prefer the man's seventies persona back when Thomas was fronting Rocket From The Tombs and the original Pere Ubu, creating the sort of cataclysm music that made the seventies underground rock era the equal of various late-sixties eruptions that I'm sure at least a few of you readers would be familiar with. And to be about as upfront about it as I can I'm gonna admit that I never did care for the more, er, "sunshine happy" music Thomas produced as we all snuggled into that horrid period for music otherwise known as the squeaky-clean eighties. Sheesh, I find myself pretty much cringing when I hear such Ubu efforts as NEW PICNIC TIME and SONGS OF THE BAILING MAN and yeah, I know that groups have to explore and grow beyond their original parameters as a whole load of useless rock critics would tell us, but the direction that Thomas and the Ubus were heading didn't quite jibe with my own sense of rockist pleasure. But that's my problem being so out of sorts with the times and all and THANK HEAVEN FOR THAT!

Not to say that Thomas totally went full force Pepperland as time went on because I have given some of those later Pere Ubu recordings good write ups. Just check out this blog for a number of examples if you aren't lazy enough to do the googlin'. But when the thrust of the 1964-1981 era of rock creativity waned I did find the man's work somewhat less than enthralling and perhaps even embarrassing considering all of the hope and promise many of us saw in groups such as his. Then again, when 1980 clocked in it seems that just about everybody was making lousy records which might have been bad for my listening experiences but good at least for my bank account.

Maybe I shouldn't be so rough considering this is supposed to be some sort of eulogy (I think)...when Thomas and whatever group he was in back in the seventies cranked out on all cylinders they ranked amongst the best that rock 'n' roll ever had to offer. Maybe I should get the thoughts of the Pedestrians and Wooden Birds (groups I only recall briefly hearing but what I had heard did not exactly please my personal tastes) outta my mind and concentrate on the high energy...the wailing howls that typified Thomas' vocalizing on such trackage as "I'm Never Gonna Kill Myself Again" or the beyond belief intensity of the original "Modern Dance" with Alan Greenblatt's masterful leads (if only he joined Pere Ubu and ditched the idea of linking up with big bux makers Jonah Kolsen's Breathless!). That stuff'll never be matched again and like, I'm thankful that I was alive back when it was up and about 'stead of soak it up long after the plain ol' fact.

Also gotta mention the passing of former Beach Boy Brian Wilson. Take a shit in a sandbox in his memory.

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ANOTHER BLOG TO COMM AI EXCLUSIVE!!! Here's Screamin' Jay Hawkins greeting only a scant few of his 57-plus children on Father's Day:

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A HEFTY BELATED THANK YOU TO TOP CAT JAMES for the bottles of HP Sauce the guy sent me seemingly ages back. I opened the first of 'em just very recently to splatter on top of this Irish mashed potato, cabbage, cheese and bacon (used the fake turkey stuff due to the threat of cardiac clog up) casserole that was so bland that I took the YouTube cook's advice and used the stuff to spice it up so-to-speak. The HP helped a whole lot although the dish could really use something else to make it quite more tasty like some Louisiana Hot Sauce or a pile of sliced pickled jalapeno papers, but it must have been good since I used the entire bottle on the thing. Gotta thank you in a way only I can Top Cat, though I'll need an address first.

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As usual credit goes where credit dues. Bob Forward sent me a lovely bunch of coconuts although I already had a good bunch of what he had sent already which I guess is bad for me but good for Brad Kohler. Paul McGarry and Wade Oberlin did some too, though I'm keeping all of these so no good for Brad.

MX-80 Sound-BETTER THAN LIFE CD-r burn (originally on Feeding Tube Records)

The final outing by longtime underground rock fixture MX-80 Sound sure is good and in fact my fave bit of MX-80 since 1981's CROWD CONTROL. Them 80s/90s/00s MX recs were pretty on-target mind you, but other'n some of those spinoffs like O-Type and Half Life I found them not quite as attention grabbing as the Ralph-era releases were. BETTER THAN LIFE is a pretty close approximation of the group's early-80s sound and feel what with that heavy metal roar (BOC taken to the extremes I wish they would have reached) meets a 70s fusion done with a definitely non-DOWN BEAT demeanor really brings back fond memories of why I liked this group in the first place.

Gotta say that I felt that Rich Stim's narration (as opposed to his talk-singing) wasn't exactly a plus, and not only that but the concentration on various filmic autobio spew was a li'l bit too much of for my tastes even if it was to b expected considering previous trackage such as "Orson". However, Bruce Anderson's guitar is as satisfying as ever and when all of the essential elements get slapped together well, you can bet this tops just about ever other slab of music made by groups that supposedly took some cues from MX-80 and various other 70s/80s trailblazers o'er the years. A joy for these here ears especially after the bombardment I used to get from beyond pallid amerindie alterna-post-whatever I've been subjected to for longer than I care to imagine.

For a swan song it sure is a fond farewell. If I were you I'd drop any horribly negative opinions you have of me and like latch onto a copy or three. Available at all online sites that cater to such a breed of sonic reduction.

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Devo-SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY CD-r burn (originally on Booji Boy Records)

The title's sure tempting me to insert an obvious but still somewhat "funny" joke in this here review but I will refrain. Won't even mention that dirty Angela Lansbury movie of the same name. Actually this 2013 album by one of the first new unto gnu wave aggregations doesn't offend my sensibilities the way too many of these acts who decided to substitute genuine wit for superficial art project glitz had for a longer time than I care to imagine. Actually this ain't bad...some of this is well-written and performed with actual attempts at capturing some sort of rock drive that I would have associated with the various cold wave acts of the seventies like Pere Ubu or Debris, but if there would be anything here that would actually make me was to return to it I've missed it. 

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The Cramps-LIVE AT CLUTCH CARGOS CD-r burn (originally on Stay Sick Records)

So many of these things out there...and frankly I don't mind even if in no way could I afford to latch onto every live Cramps album extant. But if anything this shoulda been legendary live set (which I heard ages back) is probably the first place to go in case you're hankerin' to hear some early-eighties Crampsian escapades. 

As if I had to explain to any of you what transpires on this live '82 effort given your long-standing penchant for fifties/sixties low-fi rock 'n roll that definitely is to sonic vibrations what Shake-a-Puddin' was to food or SUPERCAR was to tee-vee ranch house suburban slob living. The kinda music that makes me wanna hit the local department and look for a Lincoln Futura model kit that comes with airplane glue.

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Chuck Prophet-BROTHER ALDO CD-r burn (originally on Rough Trade Records)

Former Green on Red member seems to be reaching for the New Country Rock brass ring on this 1990 effort but his arms just ain't that long. Sounds like Prophet's more or less trying to become the new Gram Parsons but misses by a mile judging from these tracks which really don't capture the depth and spirit that the former Burrito was deft at. Well, I'll 'fess up to the fact that it's miles ahead of that whole Eagles denim 'n dope scene that seemed to penetrate the karmic consciousness of quite a few people during my own growing up days (even if I gotta admit I dug "Witchy Woman" when it came out which goes to show you what an all-encompassing doof I coulda been! Well, it wasn't that bad but you gotta consider all of the guilt by association the Eagles name continues to dredge up...). 

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Crooks-JUST RELEASED CD-r burn (originally on Blueprint Records)

I'm a guy who didn't even dabble a pinkie toe in the waters of the early-eighties mod revival, so something like these Crooks doesn't hit any particular rockist g-spots on any part of my musical corpus. More of that music that I find interesting in small doses though an entire album gives me one of those spiritual diabetic shocks that needs me to do a good 'nuff detoxing of my system with something quite gnarlier. If you spent them days of yore buying badges out of the pages out of TROUSER PRESS you'll go for this.

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Chris Farlowe-LIVE AT THE BBC 2-CD-r set (originally on Repertoire Records, Germany)

Mixed feelings here, what with the guy's musical moosh seemingly one of those white guys trying to sing like a black guy and fool all the blacks into buying his records before they find out the truth and stop doing it (happened to Frankie Laine). But I gotta say that Farlowe does deliver on some powerful trackage that actually might make you listen up more whilst reading your entire collection of Hot Stuff comics. A nice 'nuff collection of BBC sessions etc. complete with some interesting twixt song interviews, but if I hadda buy this one on my lonesome well...I wouldn't. 

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RADIO NAPALM - ROKY ERICKSON (1947-2019) CD-r burn

Here's some internet radio show thingie that was done up by a guy called Tim Napalm, a name that somehow rings a bell. There's nothing here that probably hasn't graced your ears before but you KNOW that you can listen to all of this over and over and it always will sound fresher than an atomic douching of a menstruating whale. Anyone with the cranium to tune into the blog already knows what a high-class rock 'n roller Roky was and like, telling any of you people about the greatness of this music would be akin to telling any of you people the greatness of ME. I mean ya already know.

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The Collins Kids-THE ROCKIN'EST CD-r burn (originally on Bear Family Records, Germany)

Y'all know that I'm not exactly whatcha'd call as much of a rockabilly follower as I am of other rock 'n roll subgenres 'r whatever the effete snobs call 'em, but that doesn't mean I have to LOATHE it. This brother and cyster team up produced some rather boff sides that say as much about the late-fifties music and fun zeitgeist as any choice tee-vee series or automobile of the day could. Big cyst Lorrie sounds quite, er, MATURE for her mid-teenage years 'n it's no wonder that Rick Nelson took such an interest in her vocal abilities, amongst other things I imagine. Kid brother Larry sure plays his double-necked guitar like a well-honed grownup and, I'm positive, if given the chance woulda made some of those "nostalgia" oriented fifties practitioners seen for over a half-century run home cryin' to their James Dean posters. When I want to hear something other'n the usual other-worldly sounds that have made up a good part of my life its stuff like this that gets the ol' juices squeezed.

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TSUSHIMAGERU CD-r burn (originally on Mojor Records, Japan)

On first listen this reminds me of some 12-inch post-new wavey disc that you'd see listed in them early Rough Trade catalogs, records that were being sold at those exorbitant prices only you rich kids could afford. Played at 78 rpm that is. High-pitched Asian gal sings and rants over a frenetic backdrop of what sounds like circa. 1982 dance music taken to some pretty frightening heights. Surprisingly enough, this 'un's pleasing to the more feral side of one's existence and the best part about it is that TsuShiMaGeRu are a popular 'nuff group and have even acquired what one might call a fan base that I'm sure hangs on their every note and vocal utterance. Never thought anything like that would ever happen again!

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Do yourself a favor for your dad this Father's Day...mainly KILL YOURSELF! If you don't feel like taking my ridiculously juvenile joke to heart you might want to go the safer route and buy him some BLACK TO COMM back issues! Then HE'LL kill you!

 

BOOK REVIEW! ANOTHER TUNELESS RACKET --- PUNK AND NEW WAVE IN THE SEVENTIES --- VOLUME FOUR : THE AMERICAN BEAT EAST by Steven H. Gardner (Noise for Heroes, 2025)

Given the massive size (683 pages) and the diligence and detail thrown into it, I just wonder how jam-packed with information the other three volumes (and upcoming ones) in this series covering the various local (national and elsewhere) underground rock scenes of the seventies are. Sheesh, after even a few pages of this effort your head's gonna be swimmin' from all of the information to the point where it'll swell even more than Yacoub's --- it's that ratta-tat-tat machine gun firing off the facts and anecdotes which'll even give the most devout of seventies-era Underground Rock fans more'n just a mere run for the rock history money.

It is quite worth whatever cranial crunch your mind will go through for Steven Gardner of NOISE FOR HEROES fame has written an extremely exhaustive overview of just what was going on in that scene they used to call punk (somewhere before it turned into punque) and various related hangers on and offshoots resulting in this particularly informative if exhausting (but a good exhausting) read. In this particular volume of the ANOTHER TUNELESS RACKET series Gardner sets his etapoint aim on the eastern seaboard and inland regional underground rock scenes that was transpiring throughout the Golden Age, going up and down the coast giving more than just an overview of the goings on that went on during a time in music that (I assume) captured more'n just a few of you readers' hearts but most likely minds. With a passion for diligence and detail rarely seen in rockscribing (at least these days), Gardner roars on like Sherman to the sea going from New York during the height of CBGB/Max's Kansas City madness upwards to Boston's fertile stomp and then over to Ohio where I understand a few musical movements of interest were happening. After that its way down yonder, Gardner writing up the movers and shakers of these scenes and doing so even to the point where you almost feel as if you were right there at some leaky urinal at the club of your choice emptying your bladder right next to Lux Interior or Willie Alexander.

IT'S THAT DETAILED AND THOROUGH cramming more information into one mere paragraph than you're bound to find in a whole year or two of this here blog and yeah, although Gardner's telling us all about a time in music which was pretty much DOA thanks to everything from local media censorship to titanic ego clashes and changing "tastes" etc. it sure is grand that the stories are once again coming out and have been recorded before all of the minds who were involved frazzle off into the realm of dementia ne'er to be recollected again.

You get the once in a blue moon gaffes for the immature amongst us to feel superior to, plus a few of Gardner's views and omissions might not quite jab with your own but so what. I mean yeah, true the guy couldn't list EACH AND EVERY musical act of worth and note and although I sure think that Von Lmo and some of the other less-visible no wave acts cluttering up NYC during them days deserved some space here he obviously didn't, and so what. Brian Sands with his various projects which did amount to more'n what any of the Cleveland chattering class types of the day would have led you to believe would have made the Ohio chapter somewhat more "fulfilling" but Gardner didn't bother give mention...won't fault him one bit because for every under-the-underground snub made in this book you get a whole slew of info on some of the groups, second or third tiered at that, who didn't get their share of the much-needed press back then even if they sure deserved it. Sure is swell to see some of the less-noticed acts in New York (Speedies, Poppees) and Boston (Third Rail) finally get more'n just a few footnotes considering how lesser talents were getting the bigtime coverage from a rock "press" that frankly didn't know up from down let alone an X-Blank-X from an Insanity and the Killers (for you who don't know, Cleveland underground rock at its finest versus a corporation made idea of what a new wave musical entity should have been like...just ask Anastasia Pantsios). 

Yeah. I could get nitpicky 'bout various personal disagreements with the author's opinions and "asides" to be found within but why spoil what would otherwise be a pretty positive and straightforward writeup with such inanities. The head's still doing orbits given all of the information that has been crammed into my head reading this, and if the rest of it (more volumes are planned) is as detailed and (hopefully) as accurate as this entry then Gardner should be up for some serious book awards...that is if this were a world where rockist screed is treated with the same kindly kid gloves as the usual cut 'n paste hack. Other volumes just might be up my expansive alley and who knows, I might even BUY those on my lonesome (this copy came courtesy Jim Ellis to whom a big thank you has been issued).

Later'n usual true, but at this point in blogdom does it really matter? And although it lacks a whole lotta polish and is just brimmin' with rough edges I sure put a lot of heart and soul and gosh-darnedness into it so you BETTER like it! Actually, just tell me that you like it even if you don't --- personally I find my writing extremely wonky and off kilter here and downright awkward at spots. I do get the idea that some of you out there might find at least a scintilla of something worthwhile within these words, but then again I get the idea that some of you out there think a good time consists of shoving knitting needs up and around your rectum a la Albert Fish so wha'd I know?

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Here's one they don't show on Boomerang or any streaming service or off-channel that I know of for some obscure reason or another so I thought I'd shove it here. One of my mother's favorites because it was promoting classical music to us stoopid suburban slobs, but despite all that (entertainment that's supposed to be educational and all that hokum) I like it anyway. Sure beats the slop out of FANTASIA...

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For those of you who can't get hold of Cheerwine, Dr. Pepper with Cherry just might fit the bill. Not quite Cheerwine-y but good enough for a change from the usual. Avoid the Dr. Pepper Cream Soda and Strawberry flavors, both of which taste like a reverse high colonic.

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This week's AI surprise! A pic of Mister Rogers
back when he was a US Marines sharpshooter
in Vietnam.

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'n after all that piddle it's time for the writeups, and some good writeups they are I'll tell ya. If you don't think that the following reviews are the best thing that you will read ANYWHERE these days regarding that once-potent but then easily co-opted thing called rock 'n roll screeding then you might want to check in with your own personal guru, but anyway thanks to Faddensonnen and Paul McGarry, the latter who sent me some rather familiar seventies-vintage offerings that passed me by during my depression-era wages days.

The Bolan piece is one that I've worked on for quite some time. I've been spurred on into catching up on the various Tyrannosaurus Rex efforts that have passed me by (and given the way the Bolan catalog has exploded since his own passing boy is there a ton of it out there!) and I must say that it was a big joy for me to listen (and re-listen) to a whole load of the guy's efforts and lay down to type my various opines which might get'cha a cup of coffee if you also have a dime. And remember, you read it here last.

Tyrannosaurus Rex/T. Rex- UNICORN CD (Castle Communications, England); A BEARD OF STARS (Expanded Edition) CD (A&M Records, Japan); A BBC HISTORY CD (Strange Fruit Records, England); THE SLIDER CD (Demon Records, England); THERE WAS A TIME CD (TAG/Alan Walls Records, England), Steve Peregrine Took THE MISSING LINK TO TYRANNOSAURUS REX CD (Cleopatra Records)

The Marc Bolan story's probably the biggest if not one of the biggestbiggestBIGGEST tales of too much too soon, or better yet "wha' 'HAPP'D???" Up from the underground with a slew of albums one could easily say were some of the better rock 'n roll spinners to grace the early-seventies, soon it all tumbled like Harlan Ellison's ROCKABILLY come to life to the point where Bolan became a bloated image of his former self doing coke lines in fleabag hippie hangouts while his old fans were doing the har-de-har-hars behind his back and don't tell me Marc didn't know it!. And in typical fickle finger of fate fashion right when the guy's on the verge of a comeback complete with his own tee-vee series he gets himself killed! And of course we can speculate as to what might have been but at least we've got what happened, and diligent me in trying to keep up with all that I don't have and have otherwise missed out on decided not only to settle down with the platters I already have but fill in some of those gaps and other bits I somehow missed out on because like, well life is short and it ain't like I want to fill up the rest of what I have of it listening to J. Neo Marvin.

Wouldja believe that I've had a love/hate/love affair with Bolan for a longer time than I'm sure most of you fans and followers would have ever thought? There was a time when I dismissed a whole load of the Tyrannosaurus Rex catalog ('r at least what I've heard given my limited financial situation) as more hippie mewls before coming to my head and realizing the utter genius of Bolan's straightforward pop inclinations and the fact that English hippie was a whole lot more palatable than what passed for Amerigan early-seventies "right on" sloganeering and "look how full of virtue I am" pose.  As you can guess Bolan is to me here in 2025 what Syd Barrett was in '24, and as of these past few months I've been solidly in tune with Bolan's acoustic phase figuring that the guy put his own electricity into the Tyrannosaurus Rex catalog. When the guy eventually did switch back electric guitars well, you could say that it was the next logical step.

Wouldja believe that I never ever heard UNICORN until the here and now? The thing just slipped by my penny-pinching fingers for years on end and like eh, there always seemed to be more important things to do with my kopeks than pick up an album with as boring a cover as this 'un sports. Too bad on my own frugal part, for UNICORN's what I would call a bridge between the acoustic rock 'n roll of the first two Tyrannosaurus Rex platters and future rock 'n roll glories what with the use of chord organ and phonofiddle adding some interesting "color" to the proceedings. 

Not only that but "Cat Black" features a full rock 'n roll group concept with heavy duty grand piano courtesy producer Tony Visconti. It wouldn't have been out of place on ELECTRIC WARRIOR or at least a non-LP flipster from the same strata, and the track proves that Marc knew exactly where he was going and how to do it right. Really, anyone who would have been startled over the change in direction must've been a stoop given these early signs of the glory that was about to be!

In retrospect I think I shoulda splurged on the expanded edition with the bonus tracks but I can't have everything I want. In fact it wasn't until recently that I could have ANYTHING that I wanted!

I still can't get over my teenbo-era STUPIDITY with regards to dismissing A BEARD OF STARS as just more Donovan folkie fizz because well, once I entered into my twenties I surely regretted my decision to dump my copy and since then this album has become one that really makes me sit up and listen whenever I slap it on the ol' Victrola. Bolan's foray into electric guitar wasn't as premature as the guy would have led you to believe...sheesh, but wasn't "King of the Rumbling Spires" one hotcha slap of late-sixties downright English punk pop that would have rivalled if not surpassed all of the music comin' outta the place had it only got a li'l nudge? 'n hey, as far as elpee closer "Elemental Child" goes well, I'll rank it up there with the Stooges and a whole load of that sixties/seventies cusp cataclysm music that continues to mystify and astound this particular peon long after everyone else on the planet seemed (hoped?) to think it was long dead and buried!

This Japanese expanded edition's got a load of goodies tacked on at the end from songs that didn't make the cut to alternate takes guaranteed to sate the lusts of even the more iffy Bolan buddy. Believe it or not but this 'un has become a frequent spinner during those scant few minutes when I just don't feel like reviewing some of the offal that gets tossed my way.

The first two T. Rex proper albums I've mentioned many-a-time (or at least I have ELECTRIC WARRIOR which was definitely the best rock 'n roll platter to make it bigtime during the singer/songwriter saturated year of 1971) and since I haven't any recent new and updated editions to write about I'll just skip over to THE SLIDER which is yet another masterpiece from a time when the concept of rock 'n roll was definitely sliding into areas that seemed stickier than the La Brea Tar Pits. This might be considered the end/beginning of the end/beginning for Marc 'n company what with some of those later platters like TANX reportedly coming off so self-parody that all of the naysays have scared me away for seemingly ages. 

Maybe someday I'll tackle those efforts but at least for me THE SLIDER comes off like the even further next logical step into a phenomenon that by this time was going into supernova mode. The numbers that pop up here lack the intensity and overall mood of those on ELECTRIC WARRIOR, and although its packed with plenty of single material potential and Flo and Eddie t'boot there just ain't anything here that can live up to "Get It On" or "Rip Off". "Buick MacKane" does make it with its heavy metal barrage and the songs that did make it big o'er there shoulda been hittin' in the US of Whoa but well, I guess Ameriga wasn't quite ready (or mature enough) for the big onslaught. 

But when stacked up against a whole slew of them records that were filling up not only the album bins but the bedrooms of teenage pimple-thighed gals o'er here THE SLIDER was a definite winner which shoulda gotten Bolan the Sky Saxon award for best self-plagiarism by a rock band for the year of 1972. Shoulda held out for some deluxe edition with a whole string of outtakes (I mean, I've owned the original for ages) but hey, at this stage in my life its like I can't read the fine print no' mo'.

And if it is in fact true that "Baby Boomerang" was written about Patti Smith as Paul Morley once conjectured, maybe that guy wasn't the jerk too many wonks were making him out to be once he hit the heights he was soon to drastically fall from.

Anyone who made it through the previous barrage and found it all enthralling should OBVIOUSLY want to check out the Tyrannosaurus/T. Rex BBC collection gathering what someone out there at Strange Fruit Records considers the "cream" of the groups' various BBC sessions. Yeah, these sure sounded better in their raw 1967 taped off the radio state with John Peel's intro/outros left intact but for alternative versions as well as new to my virgin ears material this Cee-Dee is probably the best place to find a good portion of the group's appearances on that thing some call "the beeb". I'd take a 1979 bootleg Japanese two-LP collection of the same over this but until that 'un passes these parts I'm sticking with this.

You might also want to make yer way through THERE WAS A TIME, the first ever Tyrannosaurs Rex gig --- well, not the six-piece group who got booed off the stage a few months prior to this September 23 1967 show but the first two-piece 'un showing the early loose ends 'n all before they got a nice trimmin'. Some old Johns Children tracks pop up as well as first elpee efforts, and although the sound is rougher'n a cat's tongue you history buffs'll sure wanna eat this 'un up. As a bonus for everyone who made it through the show there are some early John Peel efforts for being such nice boys and girls.

While I'm at it why shouldn't I give Steve Peregrine Took some space here as well? Given the guy's erratic behavior which was so outre even a free spirit like Marc Bolan hadda fire him perhaps he should have been a strong contender along with Iggy and Lou for the punk of the year award! Although his post-T. Rex time seemed to be one big fall into drug addled numbness the guy sure was the perfect fit for the Pink Fairies crowd that he would eventually worm his way into, and whaddaya know but this spinner's got the fruits of that wonderous mishmosh!.

This Cleopatra release ain't anything that's gonna light any fires under some if not any of you reg'lar readers, but as far as a "document" of historical rockist value it does its duty and does it well. The Fairies make for the ideal backing band to Took's astrolysergical meanderings, and if you were one of the many who thought that Shagrat was a hearty enough backing group for Took you should be eating this up like psylocibin. The presence of some "Crazy Diamond" does churn up in the mind that the (apocryphal?) real deal Syd Barrett did pop up here somewhere, and considering the state of mind Took must have been in during these sessions the company you could say that they were pretty much peas in the ol' hackneyed pod. Yeah it meanders, but its like a meander one can really sink his psyche into!

I might as well mention this nifty collection of rare Tyrannosaurus Rex snaps that their Appreciation Society released way back in the early nineties. It's nothing but pix of either Marc on his own or with Took taken during the early days, but as you'd guess it's sure cool lookin' at the two acting a whole lot snattier than most bands have since. Its arity and you might be able to find some of these photos on-line for free, but if you're in the middle of an OCD Bolan binge like I am you'll probably want to settle back with these pics and glom on while your turntable's spinnin' some rarity or another by the man. There are also more Bolan fanzines and books out there than anyone can imagine in case you have an equally-rabid fasciation, and deep pockets for that matter.

Two different sources (who in no way know who each other are or who each other may be for that matter) have compared Tyrannosaurus /T. Rex with the Troggs as far as Anglo punkoid thrust and general attitude go. That never did occur to stoopid me who couldn't see the similarities in each group's abilities to sashay between the pop and hard rock contingents and produce what I would call downright classic single sides that were timeless in their own punkitude. What else can I say but we should be grateful that this planet was blessed with Marc without whom the early-seventies might just have been totally bombarded with pathetic introspection and Jesus Christ Superstar snooze all aimed to numb teenbo minds that were flatlining enough to being with. Some might have found this glam slam a total embarrassment to the entire concept of rock 'n roll but the above spinners sure prove to the contrary. Listen in and for once realize that T Rextacy was definitely the saving force for teenbo brain-popping music at a time when it very well might have all tumbled into peace 'n love shucksterisms supposedly speaking for (and to) the kids of the day. And, thankfully, some youth did know better. If only they slaughtered the stupider ones...

And now for a brief musical interlude:

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Curtis Mayfield-SUPERFLY CD-r burn (originally on RCA Records)

Like with the ROOTS album reviewed last autumn there's a whole turdload of early-seventies AM radio trackage here that does more'n just remind me of how fun it was listening to the transistor while reading comic books during them pre-pubesprout days of discovery. SUPERFLY also reminds me of just how mighty the AM band was after a few years of somewhat staid playlists, only to be followed by what seems like an eternity of horrid slop that the genre never did recover from. Pretty hotcha soul that's well-crafted, tasteful and dareIsay "mature", only in a way that woulda appealed to a slew of suburban slob comic books and candy on a summer day sorta kids. I believe that I wasn't the only one and that here were many more like myself way back in those better'n it coulda been worse days. Any of you out there care to prove me right?

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Cheap Trick-HEAVEN TONIGHT CD-r burn (originally on Epic Records)

You KNEW that the late-seventies were repressed beyond belief if the kidz thought music like this was either born of the devil or (worse yet) an insidious attempt to betray the true spirit of rock 'n roll (Bee Gees, Frampton, Warrant and the usual Chuck Eddy fodder). Those are the kind of SFB's I hadda put up with for more'n just a few years and I still hope that each and every one of 'em have died long, agonizing deaths!

Good thing that I don't believe in karma, and good thing that McGarry sent a copy of the third Cheap Trick platter my way, Yes, Cheap Trick were just what the youth of them days really needed what with their high energy pop rock sounds that took up the slack left by the demise of such Third Generation stalwarts as T. Rex and the Sweet. Obvious refs. include the Move (as you woulda guessed given the spiffy cover of "California Man"), pre-it all went to his head Todd, Sparks, the Raspberries and, considering the somewhat close proximity twixt the two acts locale-wise, Pezband. And sheesh, given the quality of the teenbos I hadda encounter during those days of aural suppression all I gotta say is it sure was a miracle this slab of pure hard pop would make ANY impact on the Kiss Army rejects I hadda put up with!

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Doctor Feelgood-BE SEEING YOU CD-r burn (originally on Parlophone Records England, reissued as SHM Remaster in 2014)

Not as raw and as under-the-underground 1975 fanzine writer desirable as DOWN BY THE JETTY, but I sure can dig the dickens outta these retro-scrunged up English rhythm and blues efforts as I can similar soundscapades from everyone from the Count Bishops to Little Bob Story. As with the Cheap Trick platter this is more of that power-punched sound of pure energy that the doofs I've mentioned used to poo-poo in favor of some of the worst music to hit the airwaves, at least until the eighties, nineties...

(Continuing with my reminiscences of horrible music days gone by...) Y'know, it kinda bothers me that there were way too many evil spirits throughout history who were never brought to justice and it burns me up no end that the idiot AM/FM deejays and their fans who made living in the tri-county area so dismal never did get their what fors either. Fortunately most all of those responsible are still alive and unfortunately breathing which is something that really frosts my babymaking machine. If any of you out there are willing to revenge rock 'n roll in the face of all the ruination these arbiters of taste have bestowed upon us names and addresses can be furnished. As for the beyond retarded fans of that spew well...maybe it would just be easier to carpet bomb the area, as long as you tell me when yer gonna do it so I can do a quick skedaddlin'! Whatever, THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT FIT TO GO ON LIVING UNPUNISHED!!!!!

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John Blum Quartet featuring Marshall Allen-DEEP SPACE CD-r burn (originally on Astral Spirits Records)

Allen's gonna be hittin' the 101 mark pretty soon if not already so why not celebrate in your own fart-encrusted bedroom way by giving this particular sesh a go 'round? Dunno who this Blum guy is (I fear he is no relation to Handsome Dick Manitoba) but he's a good piano tinkler. Not as good as former Allen boss Ra but I would say decent enough in a neo-Cecil Taylor fashion. And I don't know who Elliot Levin on tenor and flute is (well, that name sounds somewhat familiar) or drummer Chad Taylor for that matter but they also do swell. Allen's the real star of this session what with his "Electronic Valve Instrument" creating a whole load of Ra-esque interstellar sounds and his alto's very good, especially for what I woulda expected from any 98-year-old (the age Allen was when he recorded this) still able to pick one up. Sounds just as exciting as I would have expected any random pick from the old NMDS jazz catalog back in the late-seventies to have been.

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Vibracathedral Orchestra-BLAST MOTORCYCLE LP (VHF Records)

Nothing that I'm liable to toss the confetti over, but still a fine stream of free rock that doesn't sound like hippoid excess down on the front porch chooglin'. Comes close to a wide variety of one-LP soundflow that's been released since the wild-eyed days of the late-sixties (even though this does consist of a variety of tracks, but YOU tell me when each one begins and ends), making for good settle back 'n kick up your heels after a hard day at the salt mines listening.  I won't be spinning this with the same frequency that I do Syd or Marc, but deny it's a spinner of value and worth? No way!

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Camper Van Beethoven-LA COSTA PERDIDA CD-r burn (originally on 429 Records)

Not as pallid as I remember their earlier efforts to have been (of course it's been about thirtysome years since I heard any of 'em), but I still find Camper's brand of Amerindie stylings (with some "hip" references to earlier accomplishment) not quite the way I would like to spend my life-support days listening to set on "repeat". Somewhat smart mid-seventies rock formations "updated" for the 21st century rockist sophisticates out there, and nothing I would care to toss in the trash even if I doubt I'll ever spin this again.

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The Del-Lords-ELVIS CLUB CD-r burn (originally on Megaforce Records)

Sure the Dictators were one of the boffest rock 'n roll bands to make their way outta the best/worst of time days that was otherwise known as the seventies. But sheesh, some of the groups these ex-members eventually made their way into just don't live up to the ideals that the Dics were known to promulgate amongst a whole load of people who sure did need being promulgated! This Del-Lords spinner sounds like just about any random "mersh" AOR FM album that I had the misfortune of hearing whether I wanted to or not (more likely the latter) what with its ballad-y downer groove and patented chord changes that were overused even forty years back! Sheesh, I kinda wish that none other than Handsome Dick Manitoba were around to knock some sense into Top Ten's head before this thing ever made it to light.

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Its once again time to do my usual begging and PLEAD for you to buy some (or more hopefully all) of the BLACK TO COMM back issues that have been available ever since the Days of Diluvium only you tighwads were too cheap to snatch any up. Believe you me, I've tried to eat these and although they do provide the proper fiber I'd rather have 'em turned into hard cash so I can buy something more nutritious at the supermarket. So if you're concerned with my dietary intake do me a huge favor and please take a whole load of these out of my cellar and out of my life for that matter.