HEY ALL YOU PHONY ANTI-BLOG TO COMM TRENDY LIBERAL WORLD-SAVERS AND MOCK-LIBERTARIAN KNOWITALLS...

...ya just gotta read this and see your arguments built on wax foundations melt to the ground. I mean it!!! Aren't you cowering in shame already???

SOGGY LP (Memorie Relive, France)

I just got finished playing this album and man, let me tell you that I am shaking! And I don't mean shaking like a leaf but more or less trembling 7.0 on the richter scale and it's Japan 1923! Yes, this group, and this album, are that raw and slug-to-the-groin hardrock maniac like being tossed down an empty elevator shaft or getting your finger caught in a slammed car door! Soggy give no mercy and run roughshod all over you to the point where you kinda wonder just how all those petit so-called "heavy metal" groups of the eighties got recording contracts in the first place! And speaking of metal, this is metal kinda like you remembered it from 1971 CREEM magazine suburban slob aesthetics. It's hard to envision this being recorded an entire decade later, a time when it seemed as if heavy metal, for all intent purposes, was dead and buried, replaced by this feathery put-on fluff that come to think of it was zoned in on the downed-out youth of the day!

Anyway, those of you who drooled over my previous Soggy post a short while back have probably already sent off for this 12-inch wonder, but for those of you who haven't in the sage words of Snuffy Smith "Time's a'wastin'!" Only 500 copies of this total obscurity were unleashed and ya better get it asap lest you miss out on yet another high energy brawler that I'm sure'll fit in snugly with your Franco-rock collection next to the Angel Face and Rotomagus recs. Well, I am positive that the more astute of my readers have enough braincells to know enough to pick this crucial album up without being hit over the head more than a dozen times, which is nice to know in an age when the national IQ average seems to be slipping into even deeper chasms as the years roll on.

But man is this Soggy album great on a whole array of planes and traumatic levels. Greater than all of those mid-eighties heavy metal revival platters even, with more of that eternal oomph! that seemed to be lacking in a lotta HM and general hardrock outlets for a longer time than one can imagine. As a frontman, lead singer Beb can't do any better'n be the forever-shakin' emaciated shag of hair that he is with a voice that comes off like a Gallic Ozzy filtered through the dynamic magesticism of Ig. The power-trio backing is equally over-the-proverbial-top, pushing through enough energy to light the entire city of Rheims at night for miles around as they crank through song after song reminding me of what I was hearing back in the eighties when bands like Powertrip were trying vainly to bring back a hard-edged blare in an age of nonexistence.

Fans of the classic early-seventies Stooges, amongst the other heavy metal mongers of the day (that is, if you still think that Iggy was the "Robert Johnson of Heavy Metal" as I once read!) will be pleased. There are hefty Stooge references here from the "Down on the Street" crank of "Lay Down a Lot" not to mention Soggy's own take on "I Wanna Be Your Dog" which actually starts off with a "TV Eye" scream bound to fool more than a few unsuspecting listeners. This discus is such a fine meeting of the Detroit heavy metal proper style and the hard rock that immediately followed to the point where you kinda wonder why is all (even Aerosmith...even THE DICTATORS!!!) didn't fall into the same brand of full-strength soundscapading as Soggy. If you were one of those DENIM DELINQUENT kinda guys who used to mix your Iggy and MC5 in with your Kiss, BOC and the rest of hard rock fandom 1975, then this is the album for you!

And Soggy also display a fine sense of Stoogian O-mindset as is evident in such a song title as "Cellulite is the Top of the Shapeless Body" which has to be one of the finest I've seen at least since "Your Pretty Face is Going to Hell"! Quick, somebody get Hot Scott Fisher a copy!

With this year shaping up to be a pretty hot one if only for the various reissues and other archival digs of past glories (which sure helps considering the lack of current glories to keep our attention spans going) it's sure great to know that SOGGY has arrived to lift our spirits outta that mung that also goes by the name "the present". Let me just reiterate that SOGGY is a foot-long that you (if you are of the high energy over-the-top all-out rock & roll brigade...dunno how many wussies read this blog!) will want to get, and considering just how hard kicks are getting to find these days it's like do you have any choice???

Muscular Christians-DAN MARINO IMPORTANT MESSAGE; LET'S GET A TAN CDs

Kosmic Daydream-PSYCHOSOMATIC PLAYGROUND CD (both available through CD Baby)

IMPORTANT NOTE TO BLOG TO COMM'S MYRIAD ASSORTMENT OF MALCONTENTED CAMP FOLLOWERS! PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING ON TO THE ACTUAL REVIEW!!!!: the following review of these three items is going to be one that will, like a good many of these postings, have interest, relevance and meaning for me and me only! Although some of you faithful standbys "might" be able to extract various shards of much-needed information from this review, a good many will find both the subject matter and my re-reinforcing of various well-known facts and common assumptions in this writeup a total waste of one's precious time and perhaps even bodily fluids. Therefore, if you do not feel in the mood for any of my rock history rehashings or discussions of musical acts you never heard of and perhaps never will outside of this blog and a few personal myspace pages, please exit as soon as possible and try to console yourself by rubbing off to various amerindie/alternative speculations that can be easily obtained elsewhere. Don't say you haven't been warned.

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OK, now for you REAL, TRUE-BLUE BLOG TO COMM READERS who dared to stick it out with your Fearless Leader this far down the tubes here's a review of three discs that I've chosen to lump together not only because the two acts in question seem to have a certain sense of under-the-counter rockism appeal to 'em (in their own way) and both tend to take to the more quiet side of musical erudition, but because today's acts were both easily spotted at the old CB's 313 Gallery located smack dab next door to the more famous CBGB, and as people who've read me for years can tell you I certainly know when to milk my underground rock & roll historical knowledge for all it's worth!

Anyhoo, both the Muscular Christians and Kozmic Daydream were groups who could more or less be easy enough to tune in if you (like me) were savvy enough to enjoy CBGB via virtual reality aka their live cybercasts. And, like most of the acts that played the smaller next door room(s) at CBGB (a space which, towards the end of its long run, was almost akin to what the old Mercer Arts Center was with three stages featuring simultaneous underground entertainment) these bands had that spiffy New York street smart sound that had been around since the sixties when the Fugs and David Peel were taking the folk boom into even more perilous directions than Jack Linkletter ever would have dreamed. And you know darn well that had both the Muscular Christians and Kosmic Daydream had been around in the sixties or even the seventies they probably would have been one of hundreds of under-the-covers local groups that woulda came and went without leaving any sort of recorded memorabilia to remember them by. At least with the glut in self-produced wares that have plagued many-a-rockfan from the nineties onward thanks to cheap Cee-Dee pressing rates there are a few acts which fortunately have released product that I at least find worthy of repeated listening, and thankfully my moolah was well-spent plunking it down on these two relics of mid-oh-ohs underground folk/rock/punk cusping that, fortunately, hearkens back to earlier achievements while staking some sort of occult claim for the future. Or so we hope!

As for the Muscular Christians...well, with a name like that I was expecting either a C. S. Lewis-derived buncha religious nuts or maybe something akin to the same sorta anti folk of the eighties that in fact helped create the original CBGB Canteen space that the Gallery eventually turned into. I shoulda been tipped off at least by the fact that these Muscular types have appeared on Gallery bills with ex-Holy Modal Rounder Peter Stampfel that they were going to be closer to the HMR-style of NYC street folk. I mean, sheesh, both Stampfel and fellow Rounder Steve Weber are thanked on both of this groups' platters! However, whether this act was taking cues from the acoustic folkie Rounders or the psychedelic rockin' version of the band remained to be seen and really, given how much I like the Rounders of both varieties you can be sure this was gonna be a mystery that I certainly was anxiously awaiting to discover for myself!

In my humble opinion Cee-Dee Numero Uno DAN MARINO IMPORTANT MESSAGE's the better of the group's two offerings, not only showing a fine Rounders-styled acoustic pounce that hasn't been heard in quite awhile but a high-larity that really does seem out of place especially coming from the oft-sullen underground (at least for the past twennysome years or ever since AIDS ruined these liberteenagers' fun 'n games for a long long time). And with subject matter ranging from molesting little boys to Harvey Fierstein all done in about as bad a taste as you could imagine how can one go wrong? Hokay (in order to prove I am not in the back pockets of these Christians or anything related thereof) I gotta say that the broken-tooth Appalachian style of the Rounders (as well as that of early Dylan and of course all those real broken-toothed Appalachians) is missing...these guys clearly have been to the dentist, and that there shoulda been more of that fingerpickin' style so crucial to all of those original Rounders platters you so nearly and dearly love. But then again the Michael Hurley classic "Slurf Song" from the "watershed" HAVE MOICY! doth appear here and that should help realign at least some of your basic core beliefs with regards to these guys.

Followup Cee-Dee LET'S GET A TAN is a whomper as well...a much different whomper at that as not only have the Muscular Christians undergone some personnel changes since release #1 some years earlier but good sound overhaul as well with the addition of drums and more electric instrumentation that makes this a much diff. animal 'n the Musculars of yore. But don't fret Sweet Polly, for LET'S GET A TAN is still a nice folk rocker in itselt, perhaps more akin to Peter Stampfel and the Bottlecaps than the Rounders but good 'nuff for those of you who miss the late-eighties mini-revival of the Stampfel sound that seemed to be making an imprint on the amerindie scene of the day. (This even has a re-do of "Slurf Song" that's pretty much an entirely different animal if you can fathom that!) This time the subject matter ranges from mideast terrorists to Dr. Phil, but no matter how grim the outlook may be these guys really know how to look in the face of the apocalaypse and laff out loud!

Finally on today's itinerary's the sole Cee-Dee by Kozmic Daydream, yet another new buncha young upstarts who like I said had been playing many a gig at the CB's 313 Gallery 'stead of the main room. However, at least judging from PSYCHOSOMATIC PLAYGROUND these cats 'n kitten're ready to play just about any major stage with their unique blend of classic late-sixties rock moves with less-enthralling modern punquisms that at least work unlike similar efforts by a variety of other new groups mining old territory out there! The Kosmic Goddess (!) a.k.a. Jennifer de los Santos is the lead vocalist who gives the group their unique push with her nasal-y Betty Boop voice, while the guitar/bass/drums backing are more'n apt in not only recalling the better moments of late-sixties West Coast rock but eighties/nineties underground styling of all stratas which like I said works despite these rather sorry influences. (Which is kinda strange, because when I tuned this band in back in the mid-oh oh's I thought Kosmic Daydream were just another buncha alternarubes who were mixing their hippie up with hokum even worse than David Crosby at his rheumiest!) Nice under-the-coverisms here, and if anything Kosmic Daydream remind me of this bunch that also came outta NYC in the early-nineties called the Deep Space Sextet who also had a Boopish lead vocalist fronting this Big Brother and the Holding Company-esque aggro with a synth (!) who wore their influences proud by performing "Turtle Blues". Kosmic Daydream don't quite go that far, but give 'em time and take away their Clash records and who knows what genius they may come up with!

Pinkwind returns as...THE HAWK FAIRIES-PURPLE HAZE CD (Twink Records, England)

After reading the Deviants/Pink Fairies bio reviewed awhile back, I for one sure get the impression that the remaining Pink Fairies are not quite happy with the group's former drummer/lead singer John "Twink" Alder. It's not hard to realize why, especially with the way the longtime psychedelic punkeroo himself has not only been capitalizing on the Pink Fairies name by reissuing old Peel Sessions and the GLASTONBURY FAYRE tracks without the other ex-members' knowledge but with his using of the Pink Fairies moniker, either in whole or in part, on a number of nineties-vintage outings featuring himself and former guitarist Paul Rudolph amongst other former Fairies/Hawkwind toadies. And after reading various comments via the dear internet you can tell that even the diehard fans of the old English "Peoples Band" credo seem to be shuddering over Twink's perhaps questionable practices, or at least they get into their cringe act when they come across this 1996 CD where Twink and Hawkwind's Nik Turner got together with some of the extended family and released this live gig under the "Pinkwind" banner, an outright reference to the infamous space jams the two bands used to engage in at many an early-seventies gig that ended only when the last man had finally passed out into true lysergic bliss.

Going against the grain of all conventional thought I gotta admit that despite the obvious grasping for past glories and whatnot that Twink may be engaging in I find myself digging PURPLE HAZE for many a reason. First off, Twink, Turner and crew sure come off a lot more honest and refreshing than all of those San Franciscan relics out there who've been trying to milk 1967 glories for over four decades already! Secondly, these "Hawk Fairies" do a pretty good job at it even if only two of the original crewmates are on board and the rest of 'em seem to be leftovers from the early-eighties post-punk battalion returning to their hippoid roots. Ceed-ly, the music that appears here, despite most reviews to the contrary, actually kept my imagination a'dancing and my interests held up even with the overlong jams that accompany such late-sixties standbys as Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" and "Purple Haze", not forgetting Hawkwind's very own "Masters of the Universe" and perennial show-stopped "Brainstorm". True it all comes out in a big ball of messy, atonal, freeform sonic wax that would only appeal to a hardened fan, or hardened criminal for that matter, but that's one ball of wax that I certainly can go whole hog for!

Nice live vibes here and general psych-punk osmosis is in store and really, I can't see how any truly passionate Hawkwind fan out there couldn't but just love this 'un even if it reeks $1.98 cash in. It does (like the best krautrock even!) have that sorta transcendental ability to appeal to both love children roots and late-seventies Pere Ubu-bred cold wavers as the electronic buzz seems to leave residue all over the sanctity of your very own bedroom, and the way this bunch breathes new life into songs heard a thousand times before is rather unique and shines on like the best early-seventies English rock always could when pried away from its more pompous moments. And despite the extended workouts evident this is not quite another "jam" Cee-Dee, and frankly PURPLE HAZE's so good in its energetic flow that I could've imagined track #3 "Thoth", had it gotten 'round back in the early-seventies, to've been compared to the Velvet Underground even by the corniest of ROLLING STONE-bred critics out there.

Call it a quickie ripoff cash-in if you will, but let this bustard be the first on the block to tell you that PURPLE HAZE just might be one of the lost crunchers of nineties underground jetsam that's due for another looksee. Help the Twink retirement fund and buy yourself a copy asap!

JIMMY GIUFFRE

Although it happened a mere two weeks back I just found out...r.i.p. avant garde jazz pioneer Jimmy Giuffre, a man whose career spanned the opiate-swing of the late-forties Woody Herman band to some of the starkest "new thing" music of the early-sixties and beyond that continues to enthrall at least ape-brained arrested-development types like myself this far down the line. An underrated master who never really did get his dues for helping to create the avant jazz genre, Giuffre, along with George Russell, Lennie Tristano and Cecil Taylor, was pretty much the standard-bearer for what eventually would be known as free jazz in the fifties even if Giuffre's fame was certainly eclipsed by the likes of Russell, Taylor and of course Sun Ra. True, without Giuffre there still would have been John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman making their turn-of-the-decade nova music, but someone hadda've been there to make the world ready for them, eh? And what a better pathfinder could there have been than Giuffre, who at one moment could be seen on national television with Sarah Vaughn and at the next recording some hot West Coast avant spew with or without the likes of Jack Sheldon! If you're so inclined, try to pay Giuffre's memory proper homage by spinning such necessary avant garde platters as Shelly Manne's THE THREE AND THE TWO (side one recorded '54 with Giuffre and trumpeter Shorty Rogers) and the always amazing "chamber jazz" effort FREE FALL (from '62 with Paul Bley and Steve Swallow, on Columbia).

Plastic Idols-SINGLES, DEMOS & LIVE; HOUSTON PUNK '78-'80 (Hotbox)

Not much happenin' on the moozik front here at BLOG TO COMM central this week, so 'stead of re-re-reviewing some old chestnut in the fire you've known and loved for ages or (perish the thought!) neglecting to write about anything a'tall I decided to reach deep into the pile of PREVIOUSLY PURCHASED SPUTUM BEING SAVED FOR A RAINY DAY and latch onto this relatively-new item that's been wallowing amongst the flotsam for a longer time than I can imagine. And unlike many of you reg'lar readers (who surely know when to reach for the Feen-a-mint!) I gotta admit that over the years I really have lost a lotta my taste for the kinda punk proper that these Texans were spewing forth back during the late-seventies when such things seemed to matter even more than they do now...oh yeah, I can listen to and enjoy a straight-ahead punk rock disque the same way people go to the zoo to see primates flinging their excrement at each other, but when it comes to my hardcore listening desires these days it seems as if I'm lending ear to all of the things that either "made" punk (the "proto" variety of the form) or encircled punk (im)proper not unlike flies 'round some fresh turds not really punk per se but since in fact this stuff inhabited the same corner of the record bin so-to-speak it might as well have been. Dunno exactly where the Plastic Idols fit in...they had that same sorta sick Texas punk sense that began with the Thirteenth Floor Elevators true, and yeah there's a lot in their overall makeup that sure points the way towards early-eighties twee-dom (as doth beget many an angry punk soon to turn mellowed punque), but there's still a lot more to these guys' overall chemical makeup that made 'em perhaps the utmost in loco avant punkdom on the same level with (shudder!) early Pere Ubu or maybe even the Electric Eels, talkin' two Northern examples of worth.

Of course the long-elusive single and compilation tracks are here so you no longer have to worry about scratching your now-rare vinyl copies any more, and as we've all known these numbers are boffo examples of what mid-Ameriga could do in the garage long before snooty New York VILLAGE VOICE critics started conjuring up flitsy terms like "amerindie" in order to cue their worthless readers in. And, like the creem of this loco self-produced rockism you can hear a whole lotta smart influences in Plastic Idols from their own Texas past (many of those late-seventies Lone Star groups could have easily passed for late-sixties pre-ZZ Top/blues influx psychedelic remnants) to the just-previous generation of mid-USA/World "local rock" (Debris comes to mind, perhaps thanks to the occasional use of oscillator) and naturally the late-seventies upheaval which sorta took rock & roll as a meaningful form of youth communication outta the garages and into the streets has a lot to do with these degenerates as well. And yet, Plastic Idols are no mere copycats nor do they sound just like every other independently-produced record of the time which can be a blessing. In fact, there's a nice buzz of mid-energy fervor permeating this disc that doesn't have me chucking this back into the bottom box of my leaning tower of Cee-Dees where a whole load of "pertinent" and "precocious" late-seventies punk reissues reside at this very moment.

Good sound (even on the demo and live tracks!) and of course the info-packed booklet will learn ya a lot more than this post ever could (as usual). And even if you weren't one of those early-eighties import bin boppers who was scarfing up all of the same Wire, Pop Group, Slits and other "Rough Trade" sounds that I'm sure the Idols did you'll probably get more out of this than you would have even dreamed a good five years ago. I know I probably wouldn't've even given this one a second look has it whizzed by a half-decade back, but it's here and I've got it, and I'm sure enough glad that I didn't waste the money on...I dunno, whatever Jay Hinman's been hyping these past few years and Lord knows we have better ways to spend our hard-earned, right?!

Soggy-"Waitin' For The War!"

As my close, personal friend Imants Krumins told me, how did we ever live so long without knowing this band even existed??? And for a group whose very name conjures visions of breakfast cereal that stayed in the bowl too long, these Soggy guys were pretty hotcha up-there high energy rockers for whom obscurity is certainly not deserving. Anyway, for the uninitiated (and that includes 'most all of you), Soggy were a band of French extraction who were kickin' up their proverbial storm way back in the early-eighties, but I'll excuse you if you (like me) would have been fooled into thinking that they were a relic of the same early-seventies gallic heavy metal scene that gave us the likes of Rotomagus and a bevy of other hard-rockers who appeared on the TETES LOURDES sampler a few years back. Really, it's kinda hard to think of a band this much steeped in early-seventies Detroit metal and shag (complete with a lead singer who's doing his best to ape various Tyner/Pop stage poses) actually hailing from the gnu wave-riddled early eighties but these Sogsters did, and given the sorry state that rock & roll was in at the time no wonder they sunk like a stone! I'm sure that the metal crowd (who were more into "taste" and "chops" than they'd lead you to believe) would have thought Soggy too primitive and the punks would have shuddered at their long hair, and for the gnu wavers I'm positive they were too anti-art project! And who knows what the geeks who were weaned on album oriented "rock" woulda thunk of 'em as well! Let's face it, at the time Soggy were a group without a country destined to wander about until they capsized for good!

But Soggy were there and they came, they saw and they conked out just like too many worthies of the past fifty years that a million editions of BLACK TO COMM couldn't hope to cover in just as many years. And just because they did what they did and suffered through all these years of massive obscurity does BLOG TO COMM dare to rectify the situation once and for all, at least with a little bitta notoriety thanks to this very post. And (just for the sake of argument) if you're one of those doubting Tommys who still thinks I've steered you wrong with a load of previously-undiscovered high energy maniacs throughout the years from Umela Hmota to Les Rallizes Denudes, let's just say that you're going to regret ever having a negative viewpoint regarding yours truly after giving these Soggy guys a listen.

Soggy's sole LP has just been reissued in an edition of 500 copies, and I for one am going to be on the lookout. Until then, one can go to the group's myspace page and learn a heckuva lot more 'bout 'em than I've given you in this pithy post. For the more adventurous, there's a Soggy blog out there as well and although it's entirely in French maybe you can translate a thing or two from it even if you got straight "D"'s in the subject. And for the remaining few who are still unwilling to bend to my ever-subtle attempts to win you over, here's a neat youtube video that'll have you flashing back to Detroit glory days faster'n you can say "resensification"! Who sez the French play bad rock & roll anyway? Not moi!

The Last-L.A. EXPLOSION CD (Bomp, visit the group's official website at www.dannolte.com/last)

Yes, it's me again! In case you were wond'rin just what I was up to these past few days (and I know you do care!), I was in ol' Virginny on the lookout for that ever-elusive Titfield Thunderbolt "In The Can"/"Born on the Wrong Planet" single that came out on the Diskord label way back in '71! No luck latching onto that (and besides, I didn't make it down Roanoke way where the band was anchored and I'm sure millions of copies of this single are rotting away in Goodwill bins next to scratchy Mitch Miller EPs) but I did manage to get hold of a SUPERCAR coloring book that's in almost immaculate condition (shiny cover 'n all!) 'cept for one page that was colored in, and rather professionally at that! But you don't wanna hear 'bout my trek to Virginia nor my scoring of this particularly rare coloring book, and I don't want to tell you about my travels/travails either! Naw, what I want to do is talk to you about today is the Last!

Dunno about you, but I sure remember these out-of-time late-seventies Los Angeles folkpunkers being hyped about a whole lot, and from many a varying source way back when such a thing as a cohesive underground rock press and inquiring rock critics did exist. Heck, THE NEW YORK ROCKER even ran a nice piece on 'em that, if I remember correctly, was written by Phast Phreddie associate/Gun Clubber Don Snowdon and that's certainly was a coup in this group's private banana republic if you ask me! However, despite the underground buzz of the day, what I heard of these highly-touted "retro-rockers" at the time really didn't impress me as much as I'm sure you readers would have assumed. Their track on Bomp's WAVES collection of late-seventies self-released weirdities didn't exactly have me doing flip flops (and okay, I know that "We're In Control" wasn't exactly a good "starting point" to begin my familiarity with this band) plus their 12-inch EP that was also on Bomp and a cover of "Louie Louie" on a Rhino collection weren't winning me over either, perhaps sounding a little too modern on the retro side if you get my drift! Frankly, it wasn't like I was made outta money and could scam every shard of recorded bile this and many other groups out there in Notice Me! Land were cranking out with a strange frequency back in those punk active times, but man-oh-man why did I have to pass on L.A. EXPLOSION? True, I know that if I had heard the thing back when it was freshly hatched it wouldn't have been one of those planet-realignment-esque experiences akin to hearing the first two Velvets or PEBBLES, but it sure would have been a whole lot more fun'n spinning random new wave promo discs scammed in the basement of the Cle Hts. RECORD REVOLUTION in the hopes of finding some new source of atonal sound scrambledge, only to come up with yet another one for the compost heap!

Yeah, L.A. EXPLOSION (this 2003 reissue freshly repressed and once again thrust onto an unsuspecting public) lives up to all that hype and hyperbole that Greg Shaw spurted upon them in the pages of BOMP!, even to the point where this does sound like an actual artyfact from the folk-rock mad Los Angeles of 1965 if recorded under late-seventies standard temperature and pressure. (Last leader Joe Nolte's info-packed booklet notes mention that L.A. EXPLOSION was laid down in the same studio and at the same time that Frank Zappa's JOE'S GARAGE and Fleetwood Mac's TUSK were, so you kinda get the idea of just how far the city had sunk since the heyday of the [not-so detailed] twang.) But despite the time and place this entire album, even the token nod to late-seventies punkdom "I Don't Wanna Be In Love", sounds like it was being birthed from the same hole of West Coast genius that gave us the Turtles, Seeds, Leaves, Bees and Lollipop Shoppe and maybe that's what the whole late-seventies punk rock scene was really clamoring for 'stead of the Go Gos and Knack popsterisms that were being pushed as the haute new wave cusine!

I haven't heard this many Seeds (and even Doors) rips since I began combing through the PEBBLES and BOULDERS compilations back when they were hitting the mailorder catalogs at inflated prices! Even the cover of "Be-Bop-A-Lula" sounds like something the Stranglers would have cooked up had they used Sky 'stead of Jim as their template! And the best thing about it all is that these straight from the mid-sixties (with a few detours) rockers are done with the same beauty and taste of the originals that seemed so lacking in many of the mid-eighties "paisley underground" groups who were trying to walk walks and talk talks (!) yet seemed to have a certain something missing in their DNA. Perhaps it was the O-mind, but we're not talkin' Detroit, we're talkin' Los Angeles!

'n not only do you get the punk-packed album (fifteen-count-'em-tracks) in its entirety, but Bomp! felt it worthwhile to also stick on the three non-LP singles (primitive yet cool!!!) as well as that strange track from WAVES that creeped me out back then. And you know what, it still sounds goony enough, but as a Cee-Dee closer it sure seems in place, kinda like those token avant garde numbers that seemed to get tossed into many a rock album back in the late-sixties!

ROLL ON, BIG O!

Not much to write about t'day but that's not gonna stop me from postin'...anyway, here's a li'l gem I discovered while digging through youtube lookin' for old BEETLE BAILEY cartoons, and considering this artyfact's importance in the annals of CLEVELAND UNDERGROUND ROCK 'N ROLL I thought I'd share it with you thus garnering even more rockism brownie points (heaven knows I need 'em!). Yes, it's none other than the great Lawson's "Roll On, Big O" orange juice commercial that was pretty much part and parcel to local tee-vee programming ever since I can remember! Up until the early seventies (maybe even later but I doubt it) "Roll On Big O" could be heard oozing from tee-vee sets across the tri-county area and at least for me it was one of those things that, like BARNEY BEAN, HONEYMOONERS reruns and Gordon Ward ads, was part of the local television scene until it suddenly disappeared for seemingly all time and I sure felt like a jerk for taking such things for granted. But now thanks to the miracle of internet the Big O lives on, and maybe for once some of you people outside of the Youngstown television market can appreciate the sorta cheap gulcheral experience that molded me into the complete and adequate human being that I am today!

Of course you all know this song from the Electric Eels' boss cover version recorded live at the Viking Saloon January '75, but where else are you going to see the original version filmed in full-bloomin' color (a rarity for an early-sixties commercial...perhaps this was a re-do?)! Sticklers please take note: not only did Dave E omit the tough guy folkie Oscar Brand-ish spoken intro (which dates this ad from at least '62 when the folk boom was just beginnin' to bust wide open) but he left out the verse about the oranges ripening in the Florida sun as well! (By the way, considering how the Eels predated the whole new wave late-fifties/early-mid-sixties nostalgia swipe by a good four years with such things as "Big O" and the theme from THE PATTY DUKE SHOW don't you think they should be awarded at least a li'l rockism no prize award, especially since these guys were doing that whole baby boomer trip a lot earlier and better than all of those B-52s clones put together?) But all jokin' aside, enjoy this in the sanctity of your own bowel-gas laden bedroom as I am, and while I'm at it, do you Youngstown-area tee-vee kiddies happen to remember this 'un being aired either during or directly after SUPERCAR on Saturday nights??? For some reason the two are inseparable to me.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T HAVE A LIFE, WE SALUTE YOU!

And salute you we do with the following trio of reviews that I hope prove there's more out there in blogland than reading ineffectual write-ups of old Replacements albums! Whaddeva, please be grateful that this post even exists in the first place. It has been a very busy week for me (talking about the non-important things in life like schnozzola-to-the-grindstone work and around-the-house maintenance) and I haven't had the time nor opportunity to really throw myself into my record/tape/CD collection (not that I'd want to, last time I did just that I broke nearly twenty albums!). But despite all of the roadblocks real life tossed my way I managed to lend ear to at least a few newies that I'm sure you'll be interested in whether you just want to live vicariously through me or need your own personal Christgoo Consumer Guide as to what to buy, or perhaps you just have about fifty minutes to kill and you can't think of a better way to kill it than by reading this garbage. (As you can see, those old MAD magazines have sure left a mighty big impression on me!) Whatever, after you glom this 'un I surely hope that your rockism needs have been slaked, and slaked pretty damn good while yer at it!


Up-Tight-EARLY YEARS CD (aRCHIVE)

Well whaddaya know, but that extremely rare debut Cee-Dee by Japanese psychedelic monsters Up-Tight has finally been reissued, and what a gloriosky job the aRCHIVE label did with the thing as well! Not being that much of a fan of this trio's newer work (which I find too repetitious in a boring way and "mature" in a stodgy one as well), this early offering only proves what contenders these Les Rallizes Denudes "acolytes" coulda been back in the mid-nineties when these track were laid down. Powerful rock & roll that fans of a lotta music that seemed to get swept under the rug once the eighties rolled around will surely cherish, with an overall sound and gesture that comes off just as much heavy metal (in a classic mid-seventies CREEM sense) as it does psych. Words really can't describe the high energy this exudes (a Velvet-y Groundhogs?), so let's just say that if you've been in on the Japanese underground game for quite some time and missed out on this, you now have that second chance very few of ever will have! And as an added bonus, some previously-unreleased recordings from '94 going under the title of 94 LIVE & STUDIO are tagged on afterwards sweetening up the pot even more! And brother, you haven't LIVED until you've heard the extended instrumental "King of Ice" which hearkens back to those great mid/late-seventies atonal Denudes guitar workouts to the point where you'd have thunk a lawsuit was in order! A definite must-get for fans of the Japanese psychedelic movement still stirring even as we speak!

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The Flying Luttenbachers-TRAUMA CD; Mary Halvorson and Weasel Walter-OPULENCE CD (ugEXPLODE)

Weasel Walter (y'know, the guy with the warpaint on his face) sez that the music on this reissued Cee-Dee by his Flying Luttenbachers is not jazz. I would beg to differ, since not only is the instrumentation on TRAUMA (which ingeniously consists of eleven tracks bearing the disc's name all neat and numbered) a classic jazz sax/bass/drums configuration but the music seems to echo the Chicago avant garde of AACM fame (without the small instruments) from whence the Luttenbachers herald from. And maybe it's even better than what a good portion of the AACM or what's left of it is working up these days, for the playing (esp. Robert Wilkus' tenor) is pretty hard and Roscoe Mitchell dirty at times with none of that aerie/faerie revolution now and peace flutter that seems to have clogged up a good portion of the newer free jazz stylings to our chagrin. Whatever, this is sure a hegguva lot more pleasing to the ears than some of the more-recent free jazz musings I've had the pleasure to hear over the past year or so. Maybe Walter meant that the Luttenbachers play "anti-jazz" sorta like the Contortions used to, or the same way that the Fugs and Electric Eels said they played "anti-rock". Who knows, and I'm sure you more jaded readers don't care one whit, so fug git you!

The other ugEXPLODE disque set on the chopping block for today's a duo setting featuring Walter playing behind the avant guitar of Mary Halvorson, a gal who should be well-known to you readers from her days back in the early/mid-double ots when she used to pop up at those CBGB Lounge free jazz gigs, the cybercasts of which as you know I miss so dearly.

If you're expecting a freeform guitar freakout akin to a Sonny Sharrock or Doug Snyder and Bob Thompson's DAILY DANCE you will be disappointed. You will also be a moron, for although Halvorson ain't as forceful in her strumming as Sharrock or Snyder she's still boss, kinda subdued sorta like Derek Bailey or even Fred Frith on those old Virgin Records guitar solo albums with occasional bursts of manic energy when the mood fits. Walter accompanies Miss Halvorson exceptionally well with his etapoint free jazz drumming that certainly knows how to play within the grooves of Halvorson's guitarese. As an added bonus, Walter also can be hear blowing through a clarinet mouthpiece on some tracks which does add an air of even more befuddlement to the proceedings! (I originally thought that there was a soprano sax somewhere in the mix until I read the credits!) Reminds me of something Andrew Cyrille might have done in the late-sixties (though Cyrille used to play a kazoo while drumming...perhaps this is where Walter got his idea but whatever the inspiration the effects are surely swell).

An interesting thing about these releases...the cover of OPULENCE strangely enough resembles that of Hawkwind's DOREMI FASOL LATIDO while the one to TRAUMA's a Marvel Comics-inspired piece of pop artism that was done by Walter himself (after Jack Kirby) that oddly enough resembles the cover of the Deviants' masterpiece PTOOFF! What I wonder is, were these covers consciously created as tributes of sorts to these English "People's Bands", or is it just mere coincidence. Frankly I'll put my moolah on the latter, but it certainly is more num num for thought!

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The Backdoor Men-MOHAWK COMBOVER CD (Handsome Productions)

It's been in my "collection" for well over a year already, but only now am I getting around to playing the dadburned thing! Well, if you want to call me Mr. Procrastination go ahead but sheesh, sometimes I have trouble keeping track of where I place my various discs, books, fanzines and whatnot to the point where I eventually will find various items that I purchased nigh on twenty years ago and totally forgot about especially when I'm looking for something totally different! It's a miracle that I even remember the most basic things in life from taxes to wiping myself, and how I struggled through existence all these years sometimes is a vast mystery to me.

Enough of my own personal magnitude 'n onto the Backdoor Men. Charlotte Pressler once wrote that these guys were a living jukebox that Peter Laughner would have enjoyed or something to that effect, and after listening to this CD I can believe it! Prior to this I only had a live audience tape of 'em recorded at Fitzpatricks early '79, and although it did have their infamous (and controversial) signature song "Handicapped Kids" (which is not on this disque) the quality was a little too muddified for me to make a good judgement as to what these late-seventies Clevelanders could cook up on a hot "new wave" night at whatever bar in the Flats would be brave enough to have 'em.

's funny that a Cee-Dee by a reformed Backdoor Men would appear after all these years, but it has and yeah, it sure brings back them fond memories of thirty years back. In fact, the Backdoor Men in the here and now seem to encapsulate everything that was top dog about the seventies undergrround scene and crams it into a nice disque for your enjoyment. Some parts remind me of the same late-seventies "new wave" that used to induce premature periods in Anastasia Pantsios...at least I can hear echoes of songs like the Chronics' "Calling All Cardinals" in the Backdoor Men's more bouncy numbers, while others tend to have the Laughner lilt to 'em such as the revival of his "I'm So F#cked Up" which is a blooze chooze that I once read somewhere was actually a Velvet Underground creation! Still, I'm sure that, had he made it down the line this far Laughner woulda loved all of it, and this probably would sound like whatever group he would've been involved with today had fate taken a different turn. And still other tracks echo back to the great mid/late-sixties garage band scene, or at least the seventies variations thereof in a way that probably woulda had Cyril Jordan of the Flamin' Groovies flipping his wig in abject jealousy over the way the Men revive the revivalists so to speak!

Don't miss the disque closer, a cover of "Eve Of Destruction" recorded at a very early Backdoor Man gig at Fitzpatricks January '77 so maybe Laughner, who recorded the recently-reissued NOTES ON A COCKTAIL NAPKIN acetate with Backdoor Man Terry Hartman in Laughner's bedroom '69, was aware of 'em and even got to see the guys live! At least that would have been nice if somehow he had between his frequent hospital stays and getting kicked off the stage at CBGB.

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SPECIAL NON-MUSICAL-RELATED SEGMENT OF THIS POST THAT WAS CREATED IF ONLY TO PROVE TO YOU NEOPHYTE READERS THAT THERE IS MORE TO THIS BLOG THAN REVIEWING RECENTLY GRABBED CEE-DEES, OLD RECORDS AND COMPLAINING ABOUT THE LACK OF INTEREST AND RESPECT MY VARIOUS ENDEAVORS INCUR WITHIN THE RANKS OF MUSIC FANDOM DEPARTMENT: Yes it is old news, but danged if I'm still having trouble getting enough of that boffo late-fifties/early-sixties kultural experience (mainly, tee-vee!) into my fragile system! And considering how the broadcast stations have pretty much just lost it en toto while even the cable outlets which I have avoided on principle for eons have been themselves slacking (and as for TV Land, have you actually seen those dismal original series of theirs which have nada to do with the great fifties/sixties obscure television series that even they won't show anymore?), it looks as if the only way I can enjoy that vast pre-hippie greatness outside of videotapes and DVDs these days is good ol' youtube! True, you might be lucky enough to only get peter-sized portions of great television shows of the past and in grainy quality when you tune into that wondrous site, but at least you're getting this stuff and for FREE so complainin' about the quality and having to see great programs of yore chopped up into segments would be akin to breaking your leg and complaining about the ambulance ride because it ain't a Cadillac. At least yer gettin' some semblance of wild and whacked out tee-vee when you tune into youtube to snatch a segment of SHINDIG, ERNIE KOVACS or even a toddler-era fave o' mine like TALES OF THE RIVERBANK, and what's best about it is that you too are now getting the same sorta resensification that sustained millions of baby boomer kiddos and it's this sorta slapping of the mid-amerigan credo into these kids' skulls that eventually gave us things like the Velvet Underground and Stooge-rock! C'mon, with the low level of entertainment that has been handed to us o'er the last thirtysome years it's no wonder that the kidz of today aren't as rabid or feral as the best of the fifties/sixties brats eventually turned out to be, because frankly I can't see no Hannah Montana fan outside of Mike Saunders moving and grooving to the likes of "Sister Ray"!

So it's no wonder why I found myself pretty much enthralled last Wednesday night sitting through a December '63 edition of THE JERRY LEWIS SHOW that some enterprising young soul put up on youtube for all of us to see. Believe it or not, but I haven't been that much of a Jerry Lewis fan since I turned twelve or so and heard him telling dirty jokes on the Labor Day telethon, but considering the historical importance of this fabled early-sixties series how could I help but not tune in? Some of you older tee-vee buffs (who to today are pretty much the equivalent of those old-timey cubesville people you knew as a kid who were really hep on those thirties and forties radio shows that were getting the nostalgic treatment back in the very early seventies...wonderful folks all) will know all about the Lewis show and how ABC really pushed this one as being the crowning achievement of the '63-'64 tee-vee season until the critics panned it and the ratings deep-sixed. A last-ditch attempt to revive the series failed when Prez Kennedy himself got a mid-season cancellation and by December this massive abortion passing as prime-time tee-vee was all over. Even TV GUIDE did an autopsy as to why this series which is often considered Lewis' first major career flop came out of the gate and stumbled about as it did, and frankly I still get the impression that Lewis never really lived this huge hunkerin' error on his part down. By the way, this JERRY LEWIS SHOW should not be confused with his late-sixties NBC show of the same name, a variety sketch comedy series which luckily enough for Lewis lasted two seasons, nor his syndicated early-eighties attempt at a late-night talk show that also seemed to fizzle out before anyone knew it was on the air.

After finally getting an eyefull of this particular episode which was aired right after Lewis got the axe (and he sure let us viewers, few as we may be, know it...I mean, talk about watching a television series falling apart before your very eyes!) all I can say is it ain't hard to see why THE JERRY LEWIS SHOW imploded the way it did. Perhaps the hype on ABC's part was overbearing (I mean, having the network buy a theatre and rename it after their star was a bit too much to begin with!) and a two-hour live broadcast on Saturday nights from 9:30 to 11:30 PM, the first time a network extended prime time past eleven, was way too long for something that seemed to be aiming for either THE TONIGHT SHOW, ED SULLIVAN or even PLAYBOY AFTER DARK without the bunnies! (And yeah, I know that show came a good five or so years later, but I still recall the promos for the one with Lewis and Bill Cosby goofing around with a piano and it did seem akin to something that Lewis' '63 show would have gladly aired!) Put 'em all together and they spell disaster time because frankly, is anyone really that anxious to see Lewis mugging for the camera live and whining for two hours straight? Maybe the 12-year-old kids who were big fans of the guy would be more'n anxious to see their hero in action, but what else could mom 'n pop do for a Saturday night than play a li'l pokeher (no sic) upstairs while the kids live it up in the family room watching their hero Jerry in action?

Whoever posted this 'un left out not only the commercials but the non-Lewis-related performances meaning not only don't we get to see those loveable Marquis Chimps from THE HATHAWAYS romping about but there's nada Senor Wences or Sam Cooke to be found either! Maybe these supposedly "non-essentials" were cut due to time constraints (after all, youtube seems to be taken best in small, ten-minute doses) but thankfully we do get the meaty hunkering portion of the thing with not only irritating comedian Phil Foster (best known for his mid-sixties youth-baiting material long before LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY snapped into being) but a pre-Muhammed Ali Cassius Clay trying to restrain himself while Lewis and Foster give him the biz for being such a blowhard! And yeah, I gotta admit that anyone who isn't a twelve-year-old boy would find sitting through this program tough noogies, but then again I gotta admit that I like THE JERRY LEWIS SHOW for rating a good early-sixties piece of television entertainment that does tend to excite at least the inner pre-curlsprout in me. I could see a good portion of the young Beaver Cleaver set watching on a non-school night when they would be allowed to stay up past ten, and considering what kid-dom meant at that time this is surely a compliment.

And even the closing segment with Lewis fighting back a tear talking about our fallen commando in chief as well as his Muscular Distrophy "kids" (I guess Kennedy's assassination put the kibosh not only on Lewis' series, but a planned telethon too!) shows that the man really was Mr. Humility! A phony renaissance man showbiz great true, but I'll take him over Jon Stewart anyday!

So here's THE JERRY LEWIS SHOW "almost" in its entirety and in order so's that you can watch it in sequence by just clicking the arrow in the middle of the pic and going down the line. I'm sure a good time will be had by all, that is if you put yourself in the same mindset as some pre-pubescent boy who was really big on Lewis at the time and it's 1963 and yer in yer perjammies and all you can think about is Christmas break a few weeks away and all that fun stuff that went along with being a kid during one of the best times on this earth to be one! C'mon, it works! I should know because I've been viewing life through that entire philosophy long after people were tellin' me I shoulda known better, and if anyone on this planet is a living walking example of arrested development circa age 12 it's none other than memeME!!!!!