Monday, March 04, 2024


Other'n HERBIE I gotta admit that I know practically nil about the ACG line of comic books, and if FORBIDDEN WORLDS is any example of what the rest of their stable was like I dunno if I'd wanna. Compared to the competition the horror sagas that pop up in this title (at least judging from what's to be found here) are pretty lamesville and woulda probably passed the scrutiny of Dr. Fredric himself, at least if you plied him with a few shots. Artwork's OK enough but doesn't exactly grab you by the kajoobies (none of the big names who did work on the title, people like Al Williamson, Joe Orlando and Frank Frazetta amongst others, pop up in this volume) and I gotta say that there just are too many happy endings, at least as far as the more romantically-inclined stories go.

To be as honest as Brad Kohler about it, there are a few goodies mixed in with the turdburgers like the one where some guy gives a cold shouldered gal a love potion and she still goes for him even after he stabs her and she's rotting away (well, that 'un WOULDA been tops on the Wertham hit parade), or the one where the hotcha lady (of course) married to the aged dudster (natch!) has a shriveled fortune teller type of woman (aren't they all?) put a deadly hex on him, and the lady's handsome boyfriend (well, he does look better'n you!) tells her not to pay the millions the gypsy is owed and to have her killed... Betcha never saw a story like that in yer life have ya??? Still given the track record of at least the stories that pop up here this one did come out on top!

There are plenty of other Gwandanaland titles to splurge on and I think you all got the idea which ones they would be. But whatever, leave FORBIDDEN WORLDS outta it --- no only is the price forbidden but the stories to be found within ain't gonna do your sense of comic book appreciation one bit of good neither! 

Friday, February 16, 2024

It's been awhile. As if you cared. Neither do I but it for those of you whose lives are so starved that you have to wait for something like this blog to lighten up you life well, here it is. To tell you the truth I know how some of you lonelier types feel given that the highlight of my day is to read the various NANCY and FERD'NAND comics that pop up on various sites such as GoComics and "X". Sad true, but at least I'm reverting even more into my single digit days when life seemed a whole lot more worthy of living in.

'n really, there ain't that much "personal" to write about this time, nor anything else that might be rottin' away in that root cellar in my head. Politics is a bore right now other'n for the thrill of seeing bad things happen to people I hate (plus it is fun watching the ongoing mental deterioration of our Commander in Chief [the one I'm sure most of you people voted for] who makes past presidents like Gerald Ford look stoic in comparison...a real hoot in fact!), although I still follow da nooze somewhat rabidly if only through my frequent skeedaddles over to the Ron Unz site. Right at this very nanosecond it seems as if my extracurricular (non-musical) activities are pretty much focused on, besides trying to get some music listening time in, the boob tube what with me watching nothing but black and white westerns (with a few trips towards BONANZA) as well as an occasional peek-a-boo at the Boomerang net for some old Hanna-Barbera cartoons when the mood fits. It might not be as bright lights and big city as your very existence, but it'll do.

In between that well, I'm burrowing through a few dozen boxes of randomly dumped in Cee-Dees collected over thirtysome years still in search of my Hoodoo Rhythm Devils platters. H'aint found them yet but I have about a dozen other recordings I've been looking for during past hankerin's for certain breeds of sound which at least will help ease some strain, or undoubtedly add to it. At this rate expect me to find the Devils spinners around the time they're ready to tote me to the paupers field which is an ignoble way to go out, but I don't think I'll be complainin' one bit. 


There've been quite a few deaths since we last spake that I think I should mention here including Can frontman Damo Suzuki and MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer, something which I guess makes Dennis Thompson the MC1. Mary Weiss from the Shangri Las too. And by the time this post hits the screen there will probably be many MANY more who I'll find out about a few months from now. Unfortunately there haint been any deaths that we can sure rah rah about, but I get the feeling that our reason to celebrate might be coming a lot sooner than the enemies of the Reich might think. Or at least we can hope and pray so.


Given my intense obsession with the Velvet Underground and their somewhat expansive saturation of the better moments of 60s/70s musical dynamism I was rather surprised by this particular entry into the myth, thanks to writer Peter Stanfield 'natch who seems to be my only go to source for truly critical appraisals these days. Never heard about filmmaker John Hofsess or his works, and although reading about his filmic efforts doesn't quite flibben my jib his use of the Velvet Underground (and the Who with "My Generation" and "The Ox"!!!) on the soundtrack to his BLACK ZERO split screen effort sure is something that fortunately adds to the canon of new and surprising things regarding the Velvets which was something I thought was mined out ages back. 

I'm even more curious about this act who also appears on the soundtrack called "The Gass Company" (one of many with that very name thus no concrete information's to be had) who surprisingly enough were one of the few acts influenced by the Velvets (at least according to Stanfield's descriptions) while Reed and Co. were still up and about! Heck I don't wanna see the movie at all...give me the soundtrack to Hofsess' BLACK ZERO and REDPATH 25 (or at least the pertinent portions) and I should be about as much of a happy camper as I can get to be these days.


Lotsa sounds to spurt about this time, some courtesy of Paul McGarry, others Robert Forward, and dagnabbit even more others courtesy of memeME! Had a nice time listening to and writing these things up here in the comfy confines of my fart encrusted bedroom, something which is fine by me since it sure beats doing something CONSTRUCTIVE like volunteering for Meals on Wheels. Speaking of being constructive, maybe its time for me do drag out my Creative Construction Company disque for yet another spin. I'll betcha that you've all noticed a rather AACM-ish direction that I've been taking these past few months. Maybe it has something to do with the long-lingering pangs I get thinkin' back to the days of the New Music Distribution Service looking through their catalog trying to figure out the best way to spend the pittance I usually had to spend on such frivolities as experimental jazz/classical albums and the grief I usually got for buyin' 'em as well! (Still remember my folk's puzzlement regarding me buying records by musical acts who weren't on tee-vee or being played on the radio and how they could even survive if nobody they knew heard about them and you couldn't even find their albums at the local record shop. Looking back, I don't think I did too good of a job explaining things either.) Anyway, dig in.

Richard Meltzer-FRANKIE CD-r burn

A portion of a mid-eighties reading of the famed Meltzer/Tosches novella by the first of the two, making for a way better presentation of the story of the infamous wild wall of manhood than had Edward Herrmann's syntho voice made an audio book of it. Unlike anything related to humor since at least the turn of the nineties, this saga is wonderfully offensive and pretty high-larious at that, and for that matter way funnier'n most of the stuff that is supposed to pass for har-de-har-har these sad and sorry days. Lotsa neeto asides regarding everything from Joe Franklin to various local hotspots too. Kinda makes me wish this book was around during my high stool days because if it had been boy would my public speaking class've been a hoot!


Map of the World-HIROSHIMA GIRLS 12-inch 45 rpm EP; NATURAL DISASTERS 12-inch 33 rpm EP (both on Stigmata Records)

A recent back and forth about the heavy duty Arab population located in the state of Michigan had me thinking about this brother/sister team (Khalid and Sophia Hanifi respectively) and their group Map of the World who recorded what I thought a rather dudster record on Atlantic sometime in the late-eighties. Having destroyed that cheapo tape ages back I somehow got to ruminating whether or not this group with the rather unpretentious (really!) name, despite my original judgement, were in fact one of those straightforward local rock acts who lacked the snootiness and pomposity of a good portion of the amerindie/alt sounds I've had the displeasure of hearing these past few decades. Y'know, the kinda act that woulda appeared at your local high school gym in '69, '79, '89 and even beyond and still sound as downhome straightforward each time out! So that's why I parted with some hard-begged to get these records given that sometimes I just gotta play a hunch!

For once that hunch turned out to be right because these pre-Atlantic Map of the World recs show a young bunch of kids who have heads screwed in tight and a musical flair that recalls mid-seventies retro-freshness more than it does quick flash up-to-date doldrums. Sophia has a uniquely strong set o' pipes which really drives the Map oeuvre home even more while brother Khalid's no slouch either handling the singing and guitar on some rather powerful material both original and cover (Patsy Cline's "Crazy" done up pretty unpretentiously straightforward at that). The sound surely ain't REM jangle, closer to Byrds jangle maybe with an approach to the poppier side of rock that might have you conjuring up mid-seventies Flamin' Groovies (no kidding!), early Move (REALLY no kidding!), late-eighties Droogs (reallyreallyREALLY no kidding!) or even better the Disposable God Squad, this obscure-o late-eighties NYC powerpop act who had a nice kinetic drive to their own retropop approach which of course got 'em buried by a load of subpar sputum as did Map of the World for that matter.

Sheesh, I even hear some early pre-puke your entire guts out Jefferson Airplane (at least on "Hiroshima Girls" which actually appears on both platters it's that good) and if I could like a song that reflects those San Franciscan acidstoops it's gotta be good! The rot that seemed to overtake ALL musical genres had not set in with Map of the World and like, when I hear these two spinners I am reminded of the brighter side of local perhaps not-so-innovative but still way digestible rock that always seemed to get tossed to the wayside in favor of some rather dire music.

I think I gotta get hold of their Atlantic LP so's I can remember why I loathed the thing. These records are the exact kind of rock 'n roll that I was craving for back during the early days of my crudzine when I really hadda peck out and search for records that suited my own personal sense of musical aesthetics more often than not failing to find the one that hit the musical G-spot. And for being done up by young 'uns at a time when "rock" "music" was splintered into about ten different factions that all sucked well, I sure wish there was more of this and less of that goin' 'round, nomesame?


Eric Dolphy Septet with Donald Byrd-PARIS '64 CD-r burn (originally on Hi Hat Records, Cyprus)

I dunno if Dolphy ever recorded anything that wasn't worthy of one's ears, and this effort certainly ain't one to do any chain breaking. Donald Byrd (who covered a whole load of jazz territory before and after this, his best known work being that Blackbyrds fave "Walkin' in Rhythm") fits in swell even in a more avgarde setting and to be brief about it I can't find a thing on this that would prevent me from spinnin' it again. Worth anyone's while.


Anthony Braxton/Richard Teitelbaum-SILENCE/TIME ZONES CD (Black Lion Records, Germany)

Definite Cage influence on Leo Smith's "Silence" while Leroy Jenkins' "Off The Top Of My Head" continues on that late-sixties Braxton trio delve into the classical avgarde approach to the new jazz thing. Both tracks should be highly up there on your own personal free music hit parade, that is if you're the type who still has an abnormal hankerin' for this sort of sound swirl that might be old news now but does anyone with a mind really care? 

Braxton's once again teamed up with synth player and former MEV member Teitelbaum on the rest making for even more classical/jazz hybrid what with Braxton's reeds swinging around and sometimes even fighting Teitelbaum's blips and blurbs. The final track was recorded at Bearsville studios making for a connection even if it is so slight between Braxton and Todd Rundgren if you can fathom that.


Ed Sanders-SANDERS TRUCKSTOP CD-r burn (originally on Reprise Records)

Saw this 'un in plenty of used bins during the 70s/80s but shied away thinking that Sanders' backwoods radical bumpkin act would be as overpowering as it was on the Fugs' grand goodbye THE BELLE OF AVENUE A. Actually this is fair as far as for being a representation of a counterkultur icon paying tribute to the music he grew up with while putting down the redneck culture behind it, but there should have been a whole lot more Michael Hurley Americana and a whole lot less Arlo Guthrie Woodstock hippie on display. AFTERTHOUGHT: that LP closer was a fine cap on the album and almost makes up for the hippie hickdom of the rest.


HEAVY RAIN CD-r burn (originally on Guerssen Records, Spain)

Early seventies heavy rock lives on whether we want it to or not. And thankfully this particular entry into the annals of lunkdom is worth the exhumation given how it captures all of the worthy thud of the movement that evaporated once commercial music began to slicken up, heavy metal became a noun rather than a verb, and CREEM magazine was inundated with color glossy snaps of horrid hair groups who thought they were cutting edge tuffguys with their adolescent snarls. 

Like with the best of the movement, nervegrate takes precedence over fine playing (which is why the AOR FM-bred dolt kids of the late-seventies/eighties were the real descendents [no sic] of their hi-fi EZ-listening parents the way they preferred musicianship and quality over bared knuckle excitement like this), reminding me of just how bad things have slid never to return.


The Desperate Bicycles-COMPLETE ANTHOLOGY (1977-1980) CD-r burn (originally on their Refill label etc. and so forth)

DIY sure meant squat once we all realized that maybe the people who were doing it themselves weren't exactly up to the task of making music worthy of listening to. How this fits in with the Desperate Bicycles, a group who formed for the express purposes of releasing their own platters, well...

Early trackage has that basement quality punkitude that makes for a good listening experience, but that later stuff just reminds me of the loss of faith I had in a musical movement I thought would have known better than to fall into some of the stalest ruts these guys said they stood against only a few short years earlier. Remember that feeling you had about what had become of "new wave" once 1981 set in? Yeah, me too.

Anyway, if ya wannit, ya gottit!


Nervous Gender-HEPCATS FROM HELL 9/7/79 CD-r burn

Quality's definitely of the "Assembled in Mexico" variety but it only adds to the beautiful muffledness of it all. The same way that '74 cheapo press of WHITE LIGHT/WHITE HEAT only made it sound the way it shoulda thus disturbing hi fi nuts even more than they were when the original came out. 

Does come somewhat close to various Suicidal electroterror efforts yet retains an El Lay feeling that still woulda sounded boff in the confines of seventies NYC. But it ain't NYC it's LA with all the good and bad that implied. Meltzer's interview with 'em gives some insight into the inner workings and I'm ALMOST sorry I passed on their legit platters when they came out oh so many years later. 

I'm sure it turned more'n just a few heads in the late-seventies but only a few measly years later did it matter in the least?


FULL MOON  CD-r burn (originally on Douglas Records)

I thought this was gonna be a hard-edged fusion/jazz rock effort not only due to free jazz drummer Philip Wilson's presence but because this popped up on the Douglas label, the same one that issued John McLaughlin's pre-flirty flirt albums as well as the essential WILDFLOWERS 5-LP collection of crucial beyond belief Studio Rivbea loft jazz (where Wilson not-so-surprisingly also appears). However this is a way more commercial than I would have expected outing, not without its moments but still slicked up in an El Lay cocaine and sluts all over the place fashion that tends to irritate more than inspire. For a better representation of this genre of music I'd stick with the Good God album or heck, even some of those early-seventies Zappa things that turned off fans of the original Mothers but somehow sound better'n what the guy would come up with a few measly years later.


Mark "Moogy" Klingman-MOOGY CD-r burn (originally on Capitol Records) 

Before and after his tenure with Todd Rundgren's Utopia Moogy Klingman was leading his own acts such as Moogy and the Rhythm Kings appearing at various NYC bistros trying to get a foothold into the industry. Heck, I even reviewed a Max's Kansas City appearance by his Revue featuring Andy Kauffman here even if for all practical purposes it's more of a historical artifact due to Kauffman and not Moogy. This album doesn't do Klingman much better, being in that early-seventies singer/songwriter mode that sounds even lamer today than it must have then. Sorta like Carole King if she transitioned into Billy Joel. Well, at least it reminds me of the theme to some seventies sitcom I probably got a big kick outta way back when.


Yugi Oniki-SHONEN BLUE CD-r burn (originally on Big Art Records)

I usually shy away from these newer than new (which for me is anything recorded after 1982) "updated" takes on various past accomplishments but decided to give this one a try because 1) Yugi Oniki is Japanese and they do tend to have a touch when it comes to various neo-VU sonic moves and 2) Oniki did provide the soundtrack for some Warhol mooms being shown at the University of Michigan 'r some other local school of learning which might not amount to much but the thought is nice.

Unfortunately this SHONEN BLUE effort from back '88 way takes more of its cue from Michael Stipe than it does Jamie Klimek and (as you would expect) tends to seep deep into that wall of gelatin that has effected more than just a few purveyors of the sound without the fury. Oniki should have had his head shackled to that guitar-less feedback screeching amp of Les Rallize Denudes until he learned what Velvets-infected PASSION really meant.


Don't blame me if you couldn't get hold of any of these magazines the first time around. As Lou Costello would have said, "they were there for ya!" (or did I use that 'un already? Too lazy to find out myself). But you could blame the hoity toity distributors who felt that these mags were beneath their high levels of sartorial (at least on a fanzine plateau) elegance, or you can blame it on these rags (and their editor) being so behind the times that it actually was ahead of them (only I was the only one who realized it). Then again while we're playing the blame game maybe I should also dump a load of it on all those distributors who so gladly offered to help out yet stiffed me (Nicholas from Chicago and that guy in Canada highly recommended by Bruce Mowat whose name escapes me come to mind) as well as the ones who gladly flipped me off regarding distribution over the phone in a display of snootful better-than-thouism. Then AGAIN, there were the ones who DID distribute the mag and shortchanged me (including the head of a nefarious record label who at the time was treated as a Brahmin on the "scene" even if he had to employ bodyguards when attending clubs) leading to even more heavy financial loss. So that's why you couldn't find these mags as readily as you should have and if you think I'm bitter about it all here in my advanced age well, naw not really... Still, if you think that these prices are inflated well, I gotta get back at least SOME of the moolah that I lost, right? It's either this or try gettin' 'em from your mother!

Friday, February 09, 2024


For a fellow who still prides himself on delving into cassettes at a time when 8-tracks were the prevailing form of tapeage (so proud that my very first cassette player, inoperable since 1979, sits a good one foot from where I am typing this very schpiel) a book like HIGH BIAS comes off more like a vindication of my perseverance against the raging stoner box boy mindset that surely wasn't exactly the high point of seventies teenbo culture. 

This Masters guy (who also wrote that higher than highly recommended no wave book a couple decades back) actually spent the time and exerted the energy detailing the who what when wheres etc. of the cassette, spinning yarns regarding some pretty interesting things about the impact of those little things on a whole load of musical trends, some good and others of which we couldn't care one whit about. But he did it and he did a good job at it and it's all here and it does thankfully end up as a rather hallowed tribute to a once-overlooked innovation that, even sixty years after its debut, still seems to have about as much of an impact on a whole load of things as it did 'round '80 when these things finally surpassed the 8-track as the prominent tapemode most recommended to capture the music one would want to hear on the go. Or, when combined with pharmaceuticals, that music which was blasted in public places for people who were probably more attuned to the strains of Jan Garber.

You might think that things along the lines of eighties tape trading or the whole "cassette culture" mode that seemed to make up a good portion of OP/SOUND CHOICE's reason for existence nothing but a bad eighties memory but I don't. For me the cassette meant easily obtainable rare recordings, a cheap way for an act to release their music and (best of all) a nice eff-few to the bigname record labels who were beginning to look like even bigger downright evil frauds than any of us would have believed in the first place. If the cassette had never been invented boy, the access and distribution of music to folk in the boondocks like myself would have been quite stifling different.

Yeah, I coulda used some more juicy turdbits regarding this definite step up in the evolution of man. It woulda been nice to see some snaps of those early pre-recorded musical cassettes that were up and about a good four or so years before the advent of mass tape marketing, or for that matter the evolution of blank tape packaging with all of the strange and breakable contraptions these things came in. Shucks, if I were the guy pecking out this paen to home taping I woulda devoted an entire chapter to those cheap beyond belief "assembled in Mexico" three-packs that tended to fall apart after a good two plays. Eh, you can't have everything and I should be grateful that Masters slapped the tasty morsels regarding home taping that he did into this recollection of a not-so-distant past that was the best/worst of times in ways Dickens could never have fathomed.

The enclosed tape serves as somewhat of a soundtrack for the printed page although it seems (at least to me) somewhat of an arbitrary selection of current cassette label offerings. Sure looks nice and the musical selection rather tasty at that, but I couldn't tell you what was on it. Y'see, the thing jammed.

Thursday, February 01, 2024

BOOK REVIEW! THE COMPLETE MIGHTY MITE (Gwandanaland Comics, 2019) 

The Golden Age of Comics might have unleashed a whole passel of memorable costumed crimefighters that I'm sure even the youngest comic book fans know and love eightysome years after the fact. Howevah, who out there wouldn't admit that there were quite a few turdburgers mixed in with the wowzers as even a quick perusal through many of these titles woulda let on to even the doofiest of comic fans extant. Even a dabbler in comics such as I can think of many superhero losers who shoulda been exiled to Earth XXXXX ages back given some of the "mistakes" I made at various newsstands and flea markets over the years. And with these PD reprints courtesy Gwandanaland boy are we up front and center for some real losers who mercifully have been forgotten as the years rolled on, only to be dug up and exhibited like those dead nuns that the communists in Spain oh so proudly put on display way back in the thirties.

I dunno if you'd call Mighty Mite a superhero in the strictest form, but this half-humorous (and I'm being generous!) feature made for some of the hardest comic book reading I've had to endure in ages! Lemme tell you, I've had to suffer through many a lousy comic in my rather long span of existence but this one was like the printed page version of a King Kong-sized anal probe!

Mickey Mite, while dressed as a caped crimefighter at a costume party, quite by accident stops a holdup committed by your typical forties hood types which, come to think of it, is pretty much the same origin story of Don Martin's Captain Klutz a good twentysome years later. Thus is born Mighty Mite, a hero who I don't think is gonna be up for membership in the Avengers even if he was a Marvel-Age character, which he wasn't much to Marvel's credit. Later on Mite gets some actual powers thanks to a magic ring, one that turns him into Master Mite, the character that I assume Mickey was dressed up as at the party. Even later (in perhaps in yet another origin saga) a fairy princess bestows upon Mickey the ring (talk about a twisted continuity!), only this time the brat conjures up Gazooka, a guy who looks just like Mighty Mite grown up and with a five o'clock shadow. Gazooka comes off comparatively uncouth and irritated by his lot in superherodom, and given the stories he's in its not hard to wonder why.

Add in the usual one-dimensional galpal (who changes appearances drastically throughout the "hero's" thankfully short run) and some rather doofus storylines (like the one where Mite and girlfriend fly through the air in what looks like an inflatable wading pool with two kiddie balloons attached) and you got one reason to ditch your comics and do your homework like you're supposed to! There have been many a flub and misfire when it came to comic books and the characters that some detached publisher hoped woulda captured the public's imagination, and who other'n the creators' mothers would admit that this fart on the printed page's just but one of 'em.

Sunday, January 28, 2024

Time for me to do a li'l vileness signaling (which, like the spewing of oh-so-smart set prosody you readers engage in, is only done to make me feel warm and toasty not to mention SUPERIOR to you all) with another one of my big deal posts where I get to tell you about records and all other sorts of things that are happening in this utopian world of yours which just happens to be a dystopian world of mine. Gotta admit that I did have some moments of joy 'tween these "bigtime" posts what with the weather being so cold (at least it was for a good January weekend --- it's springtime warm as I type this!) that I had nothing better to do than stay snuggled up in the old farted up boudoir with a whole load of recordings and books to keep me well occupied. Just hope that we get one of them good ol' snowstorms soon so I can be holed up for a few days and just devote myself to these better things in life, getting away from the rat race that's been wearing me out for quite awhile so's I can really indulge in them oft neglected sounds 'n pix that make life more worthwhile than Bud Lite. But knowing me I'd probably have an appendicitis attack and die due to the ambulance not being able to make it through, so maybe I just better be glad just for the way things are right now.


Despite the tragedy of real life I sure have been crankin' these posts out at what could be described as a fever pitch as of late. Way more than I had been the last two years, and although I'm not quite ready to get back into my old weekly grind (which I doubt I ever will but eh!) I gotta say it sure is grand to be perhaps a bit more active in the rock fandom game than usual even if (as if I really cared) nobody's gonna read this. Actually this new pace is just fine since I don't feel as if I have to be pressured to get these posts out to you peons who eagerly await every dribble I have to spew, and to top that I really don't give a hoot when these things hit the blogosphere because really, does this blog matter at all other than to give me something to do with the little free time I have? Remember, it's my world and Frank Sinatra is just living in it, or something like that.


Hey, howdja like that way doctored up snap of me I've posted on the upper left of the screen in yet another lame attempt at grabbing a little attention? AI sure can do some goldurned wonders, which it sure did with the pic taken from my teenbo years (and during a particularly enthralling Christmas break spent buying records and watching tee-vee!). Sheesh, I don't remember looking anything at all like that, especially with that luscious glory on top of my skull having skedaddled a good twenny or so years after this snap was taken!

Hey, I like it. It kinda reminds me of some eighties vintage Warhol work that was done up after everyone on this earth knew he had nothing to do with it but he was so mimeographed that it didn't matter. Better yet, it comes off like a snap from one of those SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE 'tween commercial inserts that they used way back when the show was actually funny. Then again it also reminds me of the front cover of the first Lewis Furey album and everyone knows what a floperoo that was (well, it was back when I gave it a listen oh so long ago --- who knows, maybe it's changed). Whatever I think of it one thing's for sure, and that is I never knew that my left hand could be so Plastic Man-esque pliable!


A good fiftysome years too late, but at least it happened.

Now onto the writeups, which I'll warn you aren't quite as on the ball as I would have liked but I can't be Christgau every day! Maybe my lack of Wheaties in the morn has contributed to my even more lack of creativity than usual or more likely it's the utter stupidity built right into my DNA, but rather than have no reviews I thought I'd just trudge on and present whatever I was able to muster up even during this dip in the roller coaster of my creative process. Be thankful for that, that is if your life is so vapid that you actually long for the type of dribble that I've been cranking out for a longer time that I can remember. Thanks be to Bob Forward for the donations.

Martin Rev-THE SUM OF OUR WOUNDS (CASSETTE RECORDINGS 1973-1985) CD (Bureau B records, Germany)

Smattering of various idea fleshouts courtesy the not-so staid mind of Suicide's "musical half". Familiar themes pop up just begging for the feral yelps of Alan Vega, although these tracks are powerful enough on their lonesome that maybe he isn't necessary a'tall. Stimulating to the nervous system in ways that haven't affected me in quite a while, THE SUM OF OUR WOUNDS not-so strangely enough has me flashing back to the days of my original prowling of the avgarde idiom, a time that I was pretty open to this music to the point where a whole load of yells and shouts were directed at me whenever something along the line of Varese would be spinning on the ol' stereo. Coulda used some detailed info on what's what tho. 


John's Children-A STRANGE AFFAIR --- THE SIXTIES RECORDINGS 2 CD set (Grapefruit Records, England)

Shee-yucks! After making a Gnu Year's resolution not to spend any precious lucre on non-essentials what do I do but plunk down that hard-earned for John's Childrens material I've had in various configurations for years on end! Eh, it's got the Silence tracks which I've never lent ear to as well as some Andy Ellison singles that have eluded me so it ain't exactly like I was spending my moolah like a drunken sailor. It also got all of ORGASM not to mention a whole batch of different takes and other bits 'n feces which all sound great when placed under one solid roof. 'cept whoever put this one together left off the BBC seshes and Bolan's vocalized "Sally Was An Angel" from THE BEGINNING OF DOVES, but were these compilers ever perfect? Got any leftover Xmas cashage? If so, one of these little dandies just might be good way for you to pour your precious pennies down a rathole!



One from Mr. Forward who seems to (at least some of the time) hone in on the musical wants and needs of mine with little if no error. This is the first time I got to hear all of the Space Ghost music laid down by guitarist supremo Sonny Sharrock right before his own capsizing and it sure exceeded my expectations. This swan song material's nowhere near the neo-new fusion I thought it was going to be and in fact it's pretty much on par with the man's various seventies workouts so don't worry that the guy went out on a sour note like Lou Reed did. I've heard and reviewed the 1974 Savages material before but it's pretty much hokay having this repeat in my collection! Now if someone could locate those live shows the man did with Material which everyone seemed so interested in yet hardly anybody got to actually hear.


Bill Cosby-WHERE YOU LAY YOUR HEAD CD (Verve Records)

Don't worry, I only got this one for Sharrock's presence on the thirteen-minute closer "Why is It I Can Never Find Anything In The Closet (It's Long But It's Alright") which also has Don Pullen on the keyboards and Jack DeJohnette on drums. It ain't MONKEY POCKIE BOO but it's still listenable, as is the entirety of this album featuring various Bill Cosby compositions that were written pretty much in the same way Jackie Gleason did with all those make out albums of his that you still see at flea markets. He even does some percussion on a few of 'em. Other players featured include David Murray and John Scofield so you know that Cosby has some taste regarding the more out-there areas of jass (at least as far as Murray's concerned since Scofield was always a refined sort of guitarist --- classy yet somewhat engaging).


Neo Neos-KILL SOMEONE YOU HATE CD-r burn (originally on Neck Chop Records/Another Label)

Refreshing switch from the usual neo neo-hippie feely-feel that passes for punk rock these days. Low-fi reminiscent of the old Screamin' Mee-Mees/Fuckin' Flyin' A-Heads scronk that seemed oh so admirable before many a lesser mind rammed the whole home-produced DIY lo-fi concept right into the dirt. The six-year-old singer spouting obscenities was a nice touch. Maybe its because I haven't been listening to any of the ten thousand other groups doing the frenetic grind lately that this sounds fair enough but whatever, I sure feel glad that the future is in the hands of such stalwart, stoic youth as these.


Various Artists-A RECOMMENDED SAMPLER 2 CD-r set (originally on ReR Megacorp Records, England)

Now that some of that "Rock In Opposition" music that once seemed somewhat obtuse sounds rather adventurous and even toe-tapping in retrospect, perhaps I should hail Mr. Forward for jetting this 25th anniversary of the '82 Recommended Sampler my very way. 

Some of it sounds as unique as I'm sure it did to many an against the grain musical freak looking for something different in their musical pottage, while at times the usual Zappa specter seems to seep in (and I mean Zappa like in late-seventies Zappa when his usual egotistical musical approach became too overbearing even for the old time fans). It's full of surprises though, from soundtrack music for thirties-vintage French avant garde films (Felix Gasul) to late-seventies punk rock with the proper oomph to it (the Homosexuals). Something for (almost) everyone who at least reads this blog, and for me the more European it sounds the better. Even ends with Robert Wyatt's own version of "The Internationale" for all you spiritual communists out there, and judging from the response I get regarding this blog there must be many!

(One weirditie here's the presence of a Henry Cow spinoff group called the Black Sheep who perform a number called "Strangelove"...making me wonder whether or not this track is indeed a tribute to the famed Strangeloves of "I Want Candy" fame considering that those guys also went under the name the Sheep! Is the mess of a sound they make here supposed to be some sort of tribute to an act that I really doubt would have ever considered the Strangeloves to be part of their musical DNA makeup? Doubt it is but sheesh, wouldn't it be just marvy if it was?????)



I tried to get info on this 'un via the internet, but all I could latch onto was some Arthur C. Clarke short story compilation. I guess this collection of early Hawkwind single sides was one of those come and go things if it's so obscure that it doesn't even turn up on discographies. (The Butterboy blog has not only the only mention of this item on the 'net but a download as well for all you penny pinchers out there.) Longtime Hawkwind fans have no need for this one, but if you're an upsprout wanting to learn something about this band and don't wanna spend the moolah why not go on Butterboy and discover for yourself what kind of a group Hawkwind was? It's got the classics from the English hit "Silver Machine" to those familiar Hawkwind showstoppers that unfortunately never did make their way to the charts here in the United States. Personal fave's the Robert Calvert effort "Urban Guerilla" which Jon Tiven once mentioned was custom made for the Deviants fan in us all. And it was!


Yes, it has been reduced to me just wanting to see these magazines ridded from my presence. It used to be fun writing, pasting, distributing and waiting for the response as to what I and my various contributors have pecked out, but eventually it all became more like a business I took way too seriously which certainly did put somewhat of a damper on things. And besides, it does get rather tiresome painting a target on my back and having all of my "friends" take pot shots at it. It's come to the point where whenever I glance upon the stack of these unsold items piled up in the corner all I can think about is what a bad move (one amongst many) that I made in this at-times hideous thing called life. Tell you what, buy a whole sack load of these fanzines from me and maybe I'll stop with the nauseating self-pity. But I doubt it.

Saturday, January 27, 2024



It was more'n obvious that many a comic book publisher woulda swiped quite a few ideas from Marvel once the much-heralded "Marvel Age of Comics" drastically revolutionized the superhero concept (from stoic hero to piddling neurotic that is!). DC did well enough with DOOM PATROL while Archie flopped big time when they resurrected their Golden Age hero line, and whose idea at Tower Comics was it to create that beyond camp "Captain Marvel" character whose body would split up in a way that woulda even stymied Bloody Bill Anderson?

Not to be outdone in the idea snitching department, Charlton's SON OF VULCAN was that mobbed up company's attempt to recreate the MIGHTY THOR mythical god in a sixties comic setting look and feel that did so well for Marvel, along with the big bucks that went along with it of course. And although I gotta admit that these guys gave it the good ol' college try it's no wonder why this one flubbed the same way the rest of those nth-string efforts had.  Not that the entire Charlton line wasn't without merit, but I think they shoulda just stuck to their comic strip renditions, Steve Ditko workouts and cowboy/hot rod books and left the majority of the superhero exploits to the smart ones. Nothing here is what I would call of a higher notch quality and not even in that good 'n CHEAP fashion that always delivered even without the finesse of the more "respected" titles.

Feh art and tiresome storylines don't contribute to the superhero canon of excitement and adventure, and I find the tale of a reporter given power by the Gods of Olympus themselves not as fine tuned as a crippled doctor finding a gnarly piece of wood, banging it on the ground and becoming the God of Thunder. SON OF VULCAN had the good intentions, but none of the swerve and sway that Stan Lee was exacting upon his dominion.

Interesting aside: the cover of the final ish sports this interesting hype: "ATTENTION FANZINE READERS!!! CHALLENGE HAS BEEN ANSWERED...THE STORY IN THIS ISSUE WAS WRITTEN BY ONE OF YOU!!! DON'T MISS!!!" Actually, none other than Roy Thomas of ALTER EGO renown who went from low man on the totem pole to pro thanks to his prowess in the fanzine world was the writer of this particular effort dealing with the filming of a Trojan War epic.  It's OK though I find his Marvel efforts just a few years later somewhat better even if I never really could appreciate the guy's overall style (somewhat staid despite many a good saga). Still, seeing a lure to the comic book fanzine crowd smack dab on the front cover of a sixties-era title was somewhat of a surprise, but then again it was only a few short years until Marvel actually issued their own "fanzine" entitled FOOM! which I actually was not allowed to subscribe to because I was wasting way too many precious pennies on candy and tootsietoys already! (Charlton eventually followed suit with their own 'zine but by that time it was music for me, and not much else for that matter.)

Tuesday, January 23, 2024


I haven't read any of those all time greatest music venue books that have made their way out into the public realm, but considering that this particular noted Cleveland hangout was not only the place where the up-and-coming folkies got their early-sixties chops but the late-sixties creme-de-la rock groups their own foothold into the music biz well, maybe a read such as this is a little bit overdue considering the absolute dearth of Cleveland music club histories now, dontcha think?

Sure glad I got this 'un (unsolicited via Amazon --- wonder who the Secret Satan here was?) because this book really is a tonic for the rockist soul that I thought died out well over forty years back. And whoever this Steve Traina guy is, he sure did a fine job getting all of the details as to the who what when where why and hows about this hangout that pushed upon the more smart set types a whole buncha acts that pretty much set the stage for whatever good there was that came out of the sixties. A few bad eggs too but when lined up against the mighty (Velvets, Fugs, Blues Magoos, Silver Apples, Moby Grape...) the whole shebang merely comes off like a report card with one "C" amidst a whole pack of "A"'s.

It would figure that La Cave woulda been birthed near the beginning of that swinging decade and peter out around the time them years closed up shop. And really, the whole Cle atmosphere which made the place such a fertile ground for music on the up and coming side can be felt here what with Traina's concentration on the new and cutting edge acts as well as those who were getting little notice anywhere else, all of it getting detailed in a way one can be thankful for. MEANING: Traina ain't one of those fellas who makes up quotes and lost conversation in order to give this more of a Great Amerigan Novel feeling which woulda flopped had he did. It's nice and straightforward without any of the extraneous glop that has marred more than a few books about rock 'n roll NOT as a commodity or as that soundtrack for spoiled middle class kids to acts all Peace Corps altruistic upper rung on the evolution scale.

A good one. Worth at least a once over. For those of you in the area who made it through those years alive and would do it again well, here's your tribute and like, don't say you didn't earn it. 

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Here I am, the MAN WITHOUT COMPUNCTION (doing Dave Lang one better!) with another one of these ever spaced out in more ways than one posts where I get to blab on about everything from records 'n sounds compatible with my nervous system to politics and everyday happenstance, hoping your lives are just boring enough to buy into it all.

Other'n that well, once again welcome to MY world, MY turf so to speak and feel grateful that I allowed you to enter into it due to my undying kindness and love of my fellow music connoisseur (hah!). The new year's bound to bring a few surprises, not only regarding music in the "raw stages of becoming" (that died out ages back) but archival digs featuring that aforementioned music in the raw stages of becoming or whatever other put on descriptor you can think of regarding the vibrations that has been dished out these past fortysome (or even more!) years now, eh?


Wonder of wonders! The cathode connection has once again welcomed back THE RIFLEMAN to its realm, this time on the INSP channel M-W and F at eight in the evening and somewhere or other on the weekends.  Powerful programs here --- just saw the one where Royal Dano plays that mangled up Civil War vet in a role which really wrenches the emotions even outta even the more stoic amongst us! Sheesh, he could make the evilest person alive, or even you for that matter, look sympathetic! The spirit of Sam Peckinpaugh lives on, thankfully without the bared squeezies.


Yeah I PROMISED, no mo' AI unless twas to be used in the line of doody but sheesh, I've been having so much fun with it that I even ran a few covers of my old crudzine through the AI generator and came up with quite a few mind-boggling doozies. I thought I'd let you get a peek at 'em because well, I heard it was nice to share things and better this than anonymous bodily fluids:

And if that wasn't a retardo way to pad out a post I don't know what was!


Before we get "serious" I do have something to say that has been gnawing at me for some time (though I might have brought this one up before so don't behead me!). Don't you think that the theme to THE HIGH CHAPPARAL sounds too close to comfort to "Telstar"?


And as for the recording reviews which follow --- well, Robert Forward better feel glad that there was a cold snap up here in the Western Pee-YAY area or else his latest package of goodies woulda been lost in the rubble along with the rest. Well, with the weather being so cold it was either listen to his bountiful batch of burns or plop in front of the boob tube and watch the umpteenth rerun of DANIEL BOONE which I gotta admit is better'n the old days when Sunday afternoon tee-vee seemed to consist of either some dull movie, people in uniforms running around and getting paid for it, or watching Phil Harris go fishing on THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN but eh! 

The first 'un was obviously written under the influence of "Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung" (not to mention Peter Stanfield's numerous reviews including that of the obscure rock fantasy ARGO) and should be taken as being a streak of juvenilia on my part. It should also be taken as total fluff since for the most part tis way too obvious a piece to be called "creative" by any stretch of the word. Trash, but as somebody or other once said a few times a good fifty years back "it's MY trash" and if I can stand reading yours maybe you can mine.


Yes it's true! After fifty years (or more) of haggling, frivilous lawsuits, Sicilian vengeance via former manager Jimmy DeAngelo and haggling between surviving bandmembers, the Willy's Rats albums have finally been reissued legal-like. Yeah, now you can throw away all of those horrid pirate copies you bought from Midnight Records back in the eighties --- the real deal meal is here for you to enjoy and burp!

The Festival Records label knew doody about how to handle rock groups what with their making their booty with albums by Murray Frogweather and The Don Fellman Chorale and letting the rest fend for themselves. Maybe that's why rock maniacs of the day were willing to pay that extra two buck for those import copies with the flimsy yet classy covers, whenever a copy would be lucky enough to wash up on our shores that is. 

But after lo these many years Festival finally got it right and reissued the Willy's Rats catalog with a class that is usually reserved for the less enthralling musical acts on their roster, and given the hassles and bad management and overall disdain Willy's Rats got from the rock press (excluding such fanzines as ELITE METAL GAZETTE and VOMIT VISIONS) it is tasty that these guys are finally getting the red carpet that shoulda been rolled out for 'em ages back. 

Yeah, the cover screw ups that came with the very first batch wasn't exactly a testimonial to Festival's quality control which I assume is jointly run by Helen Keller and Karen Quinlan (though I managed to get 'em eager beaver I am and I am proud to say that I own some downright collectable items that I can sell and retire on if I so wish to). I mean--- WILLY STONES??? But otherwise the label did 'em swell not only with the overall packaging (each coming with an insert featuring a history written by famous rockscribe A. Seltzer) but with pressings that are a thousand per-cent better than those old tire mat excuses for vinyl that Festival stuck on the public back 1969 way.

Debut THE TALE OF WILLY'S RATS did surprise us all back when it was flung into the record bins of 1968 and directly into the cutout section the following year. Yeah, the hype about 'em being like the Rolling Stones with a Bob Dylan influence really had a good portion of us record ravers all agog but the actual effort proved Willy and crew to be much more.

(WARNING!: tune out of the next two paragraphs if you want to avoid a load of boring autobiographical bilge I thought would help give this review some added dimension --- hah! Get ready in five --- four --- three --- two --- ONE!) Personally, when I heard this as a single-digit pooperoo back when WPIC-FM was into the freeform mode of programming before they went Stereo 99 with a top forty twist. I went nuts 'n begged the folk for even more moolah to "throw down a rat hole" (how appropriate!) as they used to say. No go Joe --- Corgi Toys were fine enough but none of that decadent drivel was going to touch the family stereo no way!
Oh well, the parents only stalled my slide into the turdpit of hard rock knocks by a few years but when I did find this 'un at a garage sale amid copies of everything from IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING to MEMORIAL ALBUM FOR JOHN F. KENNEDY. I snatched it up for a quarter after locating the thing smack dab between copies of those very albums which I bought only so I could smuggle this into the house.

And when I spun it (folks weren't home) those memories of my earlier tuner inner days sure came rushing back like the water breaking in King Kong's wife. Lead singer Lou Francis really was an underrated figure on the English rock scene, or any other scene for that matter. His vocalese oozed Jagger true, but there were also more'n just "traces" of all the big lead singer guns from Reg Presley and Sky Saxon to Iggy Pop and Alice Cooper. The way he "belts out" the lyrics to such Willy's Rats classics as "Guided Missile To Your Groin" (later covered so eloquently by The Electric Eels who I assume heard this via repeated WMMS-FM plays during the freeform year of 1970) evokes a terror that rarely comes up in the rock canon, conjuring up a fear and feelings of impending doom that not even Jagger at his most satanic could have envisioned.

Of course the backing is most suited to Francis's role as a modern day magus summoning the spirits once known and rock & roll. No big surprise since he honed his craft in a Shadows ripoff band before heading into the mid-sixties r&b emulation society and becoming one of the heralding lights of Third Generation Rock. 

Let's just say that even the denizens of Ladbroke Grove who strolled by Willy's Rats rehearsal space hearing a version of "Waiting For My Man" that would have turned Lou Reed straight would be in for a frightening surprise. The benefit of a diet of cigarettes and crisps and watching the nth rerun of THE FLINTSTONES. Lead guitarist Jerry plays with a fiery intensity that recalls James Gurley via "I Heard Her Call My Name" with more than a shard of Michael Karoli thrown in. Willy's Rats have definitely moved on from their mid-sixties Eel Pie Island influences, not that there was anything wrong with Eel Pie in the first place (though for the life of me who'd want to eat one?) but the places they go here--- whew!

Tracks like "Book of the Damned" sound as if they were written co-jointly by Francis and Aliester Crowley's guardian angel while the production has an eerie sense of nervescrape that wouldn't be duplicated at least until those Crawlspace releases from thirty years later. Only the acoustic drag "Child of the Earth" lets us down but I guess that was just an afterthought reject tossed in to add some sort of counterpoint to the metallic madness. You can always skip it, or at least look upon it as a brief respite from the high energy levels. That is, if you really need a respite.

A lot of the stick it to the man attitude that Willy's Rats were known for isn't evident here but that's all remedied with the up against the wall-ness of WILLY'S RATS, LP #2 guaranteed to get any phony high school rebel kicked outta the house for sedition and general antisocial behavior. Believe-you-me, the revolutionary rhetoric spewed on this spinner makes the Jefferson Airplane's VOLUNTEERS sound like the theme song for the Daughters of the American Revolution and the MC5 like the incidental music for THE DONNA REED SHOW. Rock statements via the music being combined with fitting album art were the standard at the time, and both of them shine on this gatefold showing most of the group on the front and an obviously blasted into oblivion Francis on the back, but IN NO WAY does that prepare one for the anti-police/army/maybe even you attitude to be found within the 35 minutes embedded into those grooves. I'm surprised Festival didn't receive surprise visits from the FBI after their audacity to release this searing scar of an album on the public!

It wasn't surprising that during their US tour that the obscene and radical Rats joined that California Death Cult which almost had the entire group reduced to La Bianca status. But I guess that's what these guys got for dabbling in the realm of radical free love apocalypse mixed with the dark arts and some bomb totin' anarchism. A cocktail that was bound to explode in their face but miraculously the Rats made it back into their hole. Just barely, but they made it in.

And I just wouldn't be honest if I told you I didn't think this review sucked even your own number two. Well, it (like just about everything I do) seemed like a good idea at the time.
Jerome Cooper-A MAGICAL APPROACH CD-r burn (originally on Mutablemusic Records)

Like Gomer Pyle woulda said, I liked Jerome Cooper's ROOT ASSUMPTION album but I didn't love it. In fact, I recall being downright bored by it at least during one spin but might have been due to fraying at the nerve ends. However this live album by the former Revolutionary Ensemble percussionist has me thinkin' that maybe my head was slightly off-kilter during that particular playing of the man's premiere effort 'cuz this is a high ranker as far as seventies jazz (and its aural remnants) accomplishment goes. 

The live take of "Root" here's mesmerizing what with Jerome's rhythmic bass drum/high hat beat to a rather driving balaphone solo. Other tracks feature a recorder-like flute called a chiramia as well as one of those chintzy eighties-era cheapo Casio-like keyboards giving off some seeming outta place synth sounds that, strangely enough, fit in with Cooper's various excursions into African idiophonic clank. Dagnabbit but it sure is surprising just how much music Cooper can get using such a small arsenal of instruments. 

Ornette Coleman himself gives this a rah-rah and like, who'd wanna argue with him?  
Anthony Braxton-LIVE AT THE RAINBOW GALLERY '79 CD-r burn (originally on Hi Hat Records, Cyprus)

When this live in Minneapolis sesh was released Braxton was still riding high on all of the good publicity he was gettin' ever since Arista signed the guy up and made him the new Brubeck (as R. Meltzer kinda/sorta said in his 77 things 'bout 1977 piece). Well, the beret and stale doritos college students who think they know better than everyone else needed someone to rah rah, eh? Maybe in this case they were right. This is a pretty hotcha spinner what with Braxton and a band fulla veterans of foreign sessions doing their best to keep that AACM drive going on for as long as it did before all of the majors began dropping their free jazz companies. If you wonder what that rumble was, that was Charlie Barnett spinning in his grave after hearing Braxton's rendition of "Cherokee". 
Jimmy Giuffre 3-1961 2 CD-r set (originally on ECM Records, Germany)

Robert Forward must be a mind reader (well, not really since there are some thoughts in there no one should be privy to!) because I was looking for this one for quite some time. These Verve sessions don't have that avant-chamber feeling that made FREE FALL from the following year such a stand out as far as the early-sixties new thing went, but they're still boff as far as those explorations in jazz that must have seemed so strange even to the then-prevailing bop crowd. Sheesh, and it was only a few years before Giuffre went total Ornette thus confusing even more of those jazzbos who remembered him from the days of Woody Herman!
Albert Ayler-MORE LOST PERFORMANCES REVISITED CD-r burn (originally on Hat Hut Records, Switzerland)

Some repeats from the Revenant box set show up but sheesh, who cares what with the beautiful blare being made available to me once again which I'll take in any form. Mental instability set to a sound that could only come outta heaven, or Belleview whichever comes first. Personal highlights include the Newport version of "Japan" (which you all will recognize from Pharoah Sanders' TAUHID album, done in a manner I don't think even Sanders himself would recognize!) as well as the twenty-minute "Four" where Ayler joins the Cecil Taylor Trio a whole week before their recording of the classic NEFERTITTI THE BEAUTIFUL ONE HAS COME album. One worth getting fanatical about which sometimes comes too easy to me.
Various Artists-BRITISH OI! WORKING CLASS ANTHEMS CD-r burn (originally on Hammer Records, England)

Hain't been listening to much Oi sounds lately, so this burn made for a swell refresher course which only makes me wanna dig out alla them early-eighties platters of mine that really seemed to upset a whole load of souls at NME. (SOUNDS was hip on 'em though, but that was before everybody found out just what a fraud Gary Bushell really was.) Makes for a much better burst of rock as energy than the comparative piddle that's been made by way too many a punque act (as in sodomy) who are so stuck in the hippie mindset that they actually believe in "community". Should wither a few lite metal aficionados while they're at it. I'm so glad that most people (especially those I loathe) are so easily offended.
Various Artists-BAY AREA BLUES BLASTERS VOL. 1 --- THE 60's CD-r burn (originally on El Cerrito Records)

What I said about those early blues and sanctified yelps last big post can also be said about this 'un. At least the original whiteys who liked these black Amerigan efforts grew up to make some rather good music as any fan of the Downliners Sect or Them can tell you. Not the kind of music that I really go whole hog for but eh, it sure sounds better'n anything I've managed to hear in the supermarket lately.
It is true that not only I but my very crudzine have been taken as a joke for a longer time than even Methuselah could have remembered, but so what. I'm just waiting for the PUNCHLINE which I'm sure will knock more'n a few naysayers out there for that legendary loop. Until then, you can help lighten the load by grabbing up all of the available back issues and then we can all settle down, see how everything turns out, and perhaps even have the biggest ever guffaw in our entire pitiful lives!