Wednesday, September 30, 2015


Here's a really fuh-KNEE moom that had me laughing harder'n the time that busfulla crippled orphans accidentally got run over by a steamroller. And to think that I didn't even know the blasted moom existed until I saw some stills from it in an old issue of HELP! but hey, better now than then because in this decidedly unfunny age I sure could use a whole lot more ZOTZ! and a whole lot less BIG BANG THEORY that's for sure!

The always guffaw-inducing Tom Poston stars as the prim 'n proper sauerkraut juice drinking college professor Jonathan Jones who discovers that his live-in niece (heh-heh!) has received a magic talisman from her overseas boypal that has some mighty pee-culiar powers if ah do say so myself! And boy do those powers smart, like when the possessor of the li'l medal points his finger at someone said object of point doubles up in pain, and when said person utters the word "zotz!" the action slows down to an unbearable crawl. And just say the word "zotz!" while pointing at someone and you could be up for a murder one rap!

Being an early-sixties film 'n all there's a whole lot of foreign intrigue (including a Soviet plane pilot who looks almost exactly like ol' Nikita the K himself!) as well as some top notch comedy performances from the likes of not only Poston and Backus but Fred Clark doing his usual middle aged crank act and Margaret Dumont who looks just as old here as she did when she was acting in those Marx Brothers films thirty years earlier. Heck, there's even a wild party scene where Poston lets a whole buncha lab mice loose that brings back more'n a few fond memories of the Three Stooges in ANTS IN THE PANTRY and hey, is it any coincidence that ZOTZ! was also a Columbia production???

The acting, plot and performance are perfect early-sixties fun and jamz, and the story is intriguing enough that you might want to have a catheter installed before viewing just so's you don't miss any of the intricate twists 'n turns found in the storyline. And another thing, I sure find it swell looking at ladies who dress nice and care about their appearance unlike the bowzers you see today who are so non-feminine to the point where I hold them personally responsible for the tragic spike in homofaguality (24% of the population if you believe your high school teenager) that's been seen in recent years!

Could ZOTZ! be the funniest feature-length comedy I've seen since TILLIE'S PUNCTURED ROMANCE? Well, considering how the Stooges had a few more years of features to go through maybe not, but this was one of the more enjoyable flickers I've seen in quite awhile. Brings back everything I adore about the early-sixties to my always turdler-affixed mind and not only that, but I didn't have to endure one spec of controversy or midclass Amerigan shaming at all. Guess that proves for certain that us suburban slobs were once part of the whole Grand Design to make this land of ours a better place to exist in, right?

Saturday, September 26, 2015


I haven't been doing any of those "special edition" kinda weekend blogposts that Brad Kohler and scant few others out there seem to appreciate, so for a change of scenery here's yet another FANZINE FANABLA featuring some of those great Golden Age fanzines from the Golden Age of Rock (writing) that sure make a whole lot more sense than the latest nerf from the local free paper gleely copying down hypesheet hysteria and passing it along as insightful thought. Let me tell you I had a lot of fun reading these rags, maybe not that much fun WRITING this 'un up, but when all's done please thank me for helping aid and abet your choices for the best toidy time reading with the following set of rectal-cleansing thrillers.

Let's start off with one of those rare outta nowhere holy grail type of fanzines that I believe are the best of the lot even if their production (photocopy, one-sided) might lend some people to believe they are of a "crudzine" quality. And HONEY THAT AIN'T NO ROMANCE does have a special place in my heart if only because I remember reading about it (via. the letter pages of CREEM) during my Christmas 1975 holiday away from school, and of course that snapshot of editor Harald in his shades and leather jacket along with his galpal Metchhild ("Iggy's Only True Fan") kinda resonated in my 'tardo teenbo mind whilst I was reading that particular magazine (or what was left of it) in my trash-strewn bedroom that fun-filled Friday night. Well, that and Lester Bang's article on Lou Reed's METAL MACHINE MUSIC album which also dropped the Stooges' "LA Blues" in some not-so-strange paradigm of rock 'n roll developing into pure addled energy.

Almost forty years later 'n I finally chance upon the debut issue of this organ for "Europe's Only Iggy Pop Fan Club" and man is it a wowzer. Yeah a rag like this wouldn't pass the test of your standard eighties-onward 'zine scener who went for the slick whether it be reading, listening or anal probe, but for me it has everything that is cool about these old fanzines and more! And even if it's mostly pictures taken outta a whole slew of mags the whole concept of Iggy and the Stooges as the last word in sixties rock and the first word in seventies really shines through magnificently.

Harald and Mechthild are true fans of not only Iggy but all high energy seventies rock 'n roll, and every photo and utterance of Iggy news is something that really brings back the memories of there being more to rock music mid-seventies style than the pus coming outta the West Coast post-hippie hack mills, that's for sure.

Hmmmm---good roster of namedropping on page one (Lester Bangs, Nick Kent, Yves Adrien, Jymn Parrett and Dee Daack...) and a pretty amazing attitude throughout. And for those of you who believe in that groundswell of energy rock that began in the late-fifties and permeated the sixties and came to utter fruition with the Stooges, this will get the plain fact outta your mind just how total denouement Iggy's solo career had been in comparison. Number two sounds like a good deal as well (no #3 although one was promised) so if you see a copy floating around and want to send me something for Christmas, please no underwear (especially of the skidded kind, you sickos!).
 I didn't know that Steve Kolanjian's AWARE magazine lasted well into the mid-seventies but it did, and even at that late stage in the game it still retained the same spirit of discographies and collector's information that the earlier issues had. This one from '76 continues on the proud path of the earlier AWAREs (in newsprint even!) what with a dedicated appraisal of definitely old wave concerns and of course those necessary discographies in case you're wondering if you have any of those post-Harvest Deep Purple records missing in your collection. I personally found the complete Fillmore East gigography to be educational, making me hope in my heart of hearts someone does something similar for those other long-gone En Why See haunts from Max's Kansas City and Club 82 to Mothers and of course all of the CBGB stages which I know would be a mofo of a task but hey, it should be done and done with every little bit of care and diligence that one would put into the care and cleaning of their own personal vibrator. Any takers out there???
I wonder who the bloke who appears on the cover of AURA #1 is? Sure looks like a sorry sap, or perhaps it's just one of my dear sweet nemeses after putting up a proud appearance at the annual San Franciscan Felch-A-Thon! Whoever it is he sure looks like some mighty good musical fodder for an old Throbbing Gristle record, which would figure since AURA was a mag devoted to the outer-fringe of underground music that was transpiring during the very-late-seventies. If you were one of those types who combed the Systematic catalog during the days when they were still Renaissance  Records you most certainly know what kinda music I'm talking about!

Freaky and outer-reaching, AURA is short on the graphics but who else in 1979 England was writing anything about those latterday Amon Duul II albums that nobody seemed to give a caga about? Not that I do at this late date but hey, it's at least a nice thing to read about. The Throbbing Gristle interview was a boffo scoop even if the group don't seem to be pooping out any pearls of wisdom, and the Magma piece was just that, but a "nice" just that so why should I bother blubbering about anything that does appear in the pages of this long-forgotten read.

Yet another late-seventies English obscuro you might want to dig up, making me wonder just how many of these English RIO/industrial-oriented fanzines were there back during the days of DIY overload???
Here's one I first heard about in the pages of a '77 MELODY MAKER punk rock expose yet only have received recently. I guess all of those years hadn't made me wanna go snatch up this copy of GHAST UP, but since the thing had becoming increasingly available via various ebay auctions and I am sorta hankerin' for those old Stiff Records days of searching out yellow vinyl Belgian import copies at the local National Record Mart I figure hey, why th' hell not?

With that typical one-sided printjob that was probably done on the school copier when nobody was looking, GHAST UP ain't the stereotypical  p-rock crudzine crankout that was oh-so-common during the entire run of self-produced bedroom mayhem (and I should know!), but a nice 'n straightforward offering that unfortunately went under the radar of just about everyone in the biz who coulda helped make this one into a big contender on the punk kultur bandwagon. 's got a pretty nice look for an amateur pub, and the writing, while nothing that you'd call exceptional in the BACK DOOR MAN sense of gonzoid snarl, is everyday straightforward and relayed an average, non-intellectual mindset of the writers which certainly lacked the pretentiousness of many a more modern effort.

In other words, you don't get sick reading the views of Martin 'n Mick the same way you do alla those harpy harridan types who were mixing their punque with radical feminism and outrageous socio-political constraints only a few years later. Nowadays they'd probably call GHAST UP racist even though there is nary a mention of anything that would lead a normal believer to think so, but give 'em a few cracks to sneak into and I'm sure the modern day "uplifters" will find something of offense within these words.
Here's another fanzine from the late-seventies English upheaval/upchuck, and it's a dilly if only because it tends to veer away from the pack into its own sphere of style. Of course with a name like SUMMER SALT I was expecting a more fru-fru kinda new unto gnu wave read that was more suited for that art major who's now a housewife in Orlando Florida, but in reality this read ain't as clung on to the bandwagon as some of the other reads I've come across (names available upon request, and memory!) have been.

Unlike most if not all of the competition out there in English fanzine land, SUMMER SALT relied on, and in fact even begged for, contributions. And when I say contributions I mean scribbles and such from everyday sorta fanablas and not the big names out there who were guaranteed to draw in more'n a few more sales'n usual. Ads in the musical weaklies were taken out and waddaya know, kids from all over Blighty were sending in their various reviews for publication...and believe it or not but none of the writings procured were what I would call subpar or even worthy of anything I've written between 1981 and 2015 but quite good, complete with that nice amateurish if cohesive look which only proved it these writers had stuck to it they might have been just as IGNORED as all of those other up and coming rockscribes who weren't getting the writing gigs because they weren't about to toe any new and improved saccharine line being fed them by their handlers!

Whether any of these SUMMER SALT contributors could have become the next Murray, Kent or even Farren remains to be seen, but these "nobodies" really did give it the ol' fanzine try! Subject matter included Jonathan Richman, Doctors of Madness, Doors, Lou Reed, Ultravox, Lennon, Iggy, Pistols, Elvis (P and C), Mahogany Rush and a whole loads more within the pages of its record review section. Would you have been happy as a diabetic locked overnight in a glycerin factory awaiting this one's arrival in the mail? I would most certainly THINK so!
I gotta say that I've probably listened to more of the Stranglers in 2015 than I have in 1977-2014 combined, so it would be no big surprise that I would snatch up a copy of this early Stranglers-based fanzine. STRANGLED is a nice job in the '77 English style, and like the best of these specialty 'zines there's more to it than just the ozobs pictured on the cover, what with the likes of 999 (eh!) getting the ol' interview treatment and some act called London getting what might have been the only mention they every got in a fanzine. STRANGLED fortunately does have that personal fanzine feel that I look for in reads such as this as well as a fine enough layout that doesn't ache the eyeballs like the earlier issues of my own crudzine managed to do. Not only that but this mag actually does rock out (a very important thing for a fanzine to do, Patrick!) which sure comes off better'n what these kinda self-produced endeavors had become once 1981 rolled around and everybody was more concerned with people like Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher for all the good and bad that entailed yet forgot how to do that jams kicking out in the meanwhile. It ain't that great lost English fanzines that I've always wanted to discover, but it'll do for now.
Considering how Australia (particularly Sydney) was really hotcha on the entire Detroit hard rock contingent what with the reams of MC5/Stooges inspired groups (some of 'em even good) that were bopping about throughout the eighties you'd think there'd've been more'n a few hotcha fanzines around covering the local action now, would you! Well, here's an Australian fanzine I never new existed until recently, and what's more it dates from '77 meaning that its way closer to the mid-seventies Stooge fanzine core than any of us would have believed! SPURT! really is that ambitious of a fanzine as well, complete with all of that gosh darn energy and funtime pounce that people like myself like in our rock scribblings, and not only that but this endeavor is a rather high-falutin' one from the color cover to the saddle staple job to the innards which are just as hopped up as any issue of BACK DOOR MAN or DENIM DELINQUENT you can muster up in your own fanzine collection, Sunshine!

None other'n heavy metal greats Rose Tattoo make the cover and the interview to be found therein is good enough that you too will be clinging to Angry Anderson's every word even if you're not exactly a fan of these guys like you should be. Also appearing is a Radio Birdman gabfest that's a real treat for all of us fans even if Younger and crew really don't seem to be up to the task of fielding all of these heady questions being tossed at 'em. There's also a great history of the Stooges, an interview with Debbie Harry and alla those reviews and gossip bits that you still read just so's you know what to buy next time you hit the record shop, or nowadays ebay. Only the article on the assassination of John Kennedy (which was typeset and probably lifted from another rag) was out of place as is anybody really cares who shot him, but despite that gaffe SPURT! must be one of the best unknown high energy fanzines of the seventies and the more information that can be dug up on these guys the better inquisitive I sez and sez LOUD!
Jump a good twenny years later it it looks as if Australia is still turning out high-energy fanzines! I wasn't quite aware of this 'un back when it was flopping around inna late-nineties, but VICIOUS KITTEN comes off like the kinda fanzine that I sure wish I was trading issues of my own failed crudzine with back then. True it's digest sized and that fine typeset look ain't exactly something that lends well to the eyes (gimmee a pecked out cheapo typewriter anyday!) but the info presented here is good enough to sate the trembling titties of a rock maniac such as I and really, don't you think that in 1997 we could have used more fanzines like VICIOUS KITTEN and less like...well, whatever fanzines their were back in the late-nineties!

Nice mix of old faves like Iggy, the Dead Boys and of course Alice with some of the newies that were wallowing around down there and up here as well, and although I personally believe that the Australian high energy scene had petered out into meaningless rehash  at least by 1989 or so it all makes for better reading than anything that I might have eyeballed in a lamestream magazine (usually when it was either than or a soap opera while stranded in some waiting room) at the time. Good enough writing (nothing gonzoid unfortunaely), nice layout and ****best of all**** there are a whole load of records you never heard before revealed to you and boy will you be in the mood to buy a whole batcha 'em!

Sure you can't afford just any record these days or might feel strange about plunking down the moolah if you could (and like, for years I've been curious as to what Asteroid B-812 sounded like though never did because...well, like I said, by the time they made their way outta their fart encrusted rehearsal space that whole Australian scene was dead 'n buried!) well at least you know they exist and its your moolah and why should I tell you how to drop it down a rathole anyway?
Hey, I managed to wrangle myself yet another slam bang issue of HOOPLA and boy am I glad about it considering how all of the other issues that I have are now getting dog-eared from my continual potty-time perusals! This particular ish (#5) continues the 'zine's dedicated policy of bringing rock and roll life to the midwest with the expected coverage of all of the new underground and not-so groups and platters, all done up in that great fanzine talk-to-you style that formed the backbone of many-a-rag from BACK DOOR MAN (the obvious influence) on down. That throbbing sense of rockist duty pours forth from every page and line to the point where I kinda wonder why there weren't any more rags like this busting forth from the bedrooms of many a bored fanabla out there in suburban ranch house land. Articles on Todd Rundgren, Eddie Cochran, Blondie, Stumblebunny (!) and Devo appear as do the usual columns, record and moom pitcher reviews which continue to shed light on a whole slew of records I passed on the first time because hey, you can't buy much with depression-era wages. If SPOONFUL had lasted into the late-seventies it might have ended up looking a lot like this.
And finally here's a real surprise, an almost exact repro (circa 2013) of the very first issue of KICKS magazine, the fanzine that pretty much helped expose millyuns of suburban slob people to the likes of the early garage bands, rockabilly rousers and surf slurpers that we were ignoring ON PURPOSE because we were under the impression/delusion that alla that fifties/sixties was just more old kids music like the Jefferson Airplane and Hendrix albums a whole buncha hippoids were still spinning. What stoopid doofs we were, though I was originally put off by the strident anti-new/no wave stance of the mag which I had mistaken as being an anti-anything good and new that sprang forth from the entire Velvets/New York underground or Detroit musical spasms. Imagine me confusing the writings of Billy Miller and Miriam Linna with the ideals that were certainly in vogue with the majority of tassled teenagers around here who were smoking bongs to Journey between taking classes at Vo-Tech and attending church services being held in buildings that used to sell motor oil. But confuse-o me sure did though not exactly to the point where I thought that the next issue would feature the likes of Billy Squier on the cover and a complete Casablanca Records discography!

Of course I eventually learned that when the fine folk at KICKS meant "new wave" they were talking "gnu wave" so the likes of the Ramones and Flamin' Groovies were totally hokay with the editors of this esteemed pub while Boy George and David Byrne weren't! Whew...for a while I had the feeling that Miller and Linna were on the same side as all of those horrid Youngstown dee-jays like Thomas John and Bob Popa who were totally content to pump the (ka-CHINGA!!! cash register sound) AOR sludge at us while belittling the MC5 and other hotcha musical acts that somehow got tossed to the wayside at the expense of all of those bee-youtiful Styx platters.

I like the primitive look of this. Reminds me of those early-seventies fanzines like JAMZ and BOMP (the Troggs issue) in its stackedness and layout as well as content. And compared to later issues this KICKS is rather howshallIsay "inclusive"...of course I wouldn't have expected that Lester Bangs No Wave article to pop up anywhere in these hallowed pages but the infamous Rob Norris "I Was a Velveteen" piece as well as Phil Milstein's article on the Shaggs do! And y'know, I get the feeling that these acts and scant others would probably never have been seen in any of the other KICKS issues considering how outside the fifties/boss sixties realm these acts most certainly wallowed in, but by that time we were into the eighties and like, ya just hadda stand where your stood and Billy 'n Miriam most certainly did that!

The same great Miller/Linna writing style permeates and perhaps even excels some of the better rockscribing of any era even in its early primitive stage, while the range of contributors from Russell Desmond to Alan Betrock (doing a first issue intro of sorts) reminds me of all of those boffo seventies fanzines with that brazen sorta writing style that got wooshed away when everything hadda become all clean and Pee-Cee and things you could get away with in the seventies would never be permitted. Thankfully I never got the message but hey, that's another post!

There are even word searches, a crossword puzzle and lotsa ads both new and old! And of course loads of pieces on old fifties/sixties acts who we've all heard about and loved for years, but back then this seemed like new territory which is why these pieces on the Everly Brothers and Paul Revere amazed me so!

Everything a fanzine used to look like and should, KICKS #1 definitely is one of the holy grails of seventies self-publishing. You probably can still get a copy by contacting Norton Records via their site listed at your left, and while you're there why not buy a few thousand more hotcha spinners that the mailorder biz is selling for pretty high by mid-sixties standards prices...I mean, an album for twelve bucks???...but you can do without the toilet paper for awhile if only you'll tell me to not inhale so sharply next to you.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! THE MYSTERY OF THUG ISLAND starring Guy Madison, Peter Van Eyck, Inge Schoner & Giacomo Rossi-Stuart (Columbia 1964)

Another snoozer that reminds me of those Sunday afternoons when my mom'd tell me not to stick around the house and go out and get fresh air, and since there was nothing but stuff like this on you can betcha I'd go and hop on my bike for a spin around the neighborhood because sheesh, was this moom a dud!

A three-year old gal is kidnapped from her bedroom in India and doesn't even put up a fight while her British Army father just happens to miss stopping the crime by a few mere seconds. Turns out this li'l gal is none other'n the incarnation of the godette with the many arms Kali herself, and is treated as such by the Thuggies who worship her in between torturing intruders and passerbys for fun and profit. Meanwhile the gal grows up and is spotted by a mere snake hunter who thinks she's the bee's knees, and although I really don't think she's hot stuff myself this snake guy sure does which must mean he's been away from any available gash for quite a long time!

Of course since this Ada gal is worshiped and all by the Thugs (she even gets front row seating at the human sacrifices) she's pretty much kept well in tow but that ain't gonna stop our hero! Toss in the typical acting by numbers, stock footage and even brief shots of a stuffed tiger mauling people and you got a pretty good time waster that, come to think of it, might be better'n riding your bike throughout the neighborhood.

The print I saw may have detracted from any overall times the color switches off and on giving me the impression of watching this 'un on a tee-vee during a wind storm while some of the visual glitches prove that this was taken off a cheap VCR somebody picked up at a flea market on the outskirts of Albuquerque. And to top things off this 'un also sports Greek subtitles. Talk about unnecessary disturbances...I mean for one thing this film was already difficult to follow what with all of these actors with their turbans and manicured beards looking alike to me!

Saturday, September 19, 2015

I dunno if I should even bother asking any of you readers to part with any insightful information that might aid me in my rock 'n roll research. After all, you guys were such help when I asked about the validity of Cat Mother and the All Night Newsboys a few weeks back, but maybe this time you will lend me a li'l hand (and not for the usual functions you use your hand for, silly!) with the latest query to keep me all hot and bothered and stayin' up to all hours of the night. And that is well---as part of my ongoing infatuation and obsession with the Velvet Underground which has been going on for nigh on thirty-seven years counting, I'm trying to gather a whole load of information (or at least more than what is available onna web) regarding the the late-sixties/early-seventies English "serious" avant garde's fascination and absorption of influences taken from that infamous and blabbed about to the point of exhaustion band.

Now it might seem strange to you, but other'n the likes of Brian Eno and Michael Nyman there were a number of English musicians, composers and maybe even the odd-non musician or two who were giving a listen to the Velvets and reportedly coming up with some rather spiffy results...Tim Souster, best known to you as guest musician on Wire's 154, wrote a number of articles on them for THE OBSERVER (his Beefheart piece would also be welcome in the realm of my fart-encrusted domain) that  not only might shed yet another dimension on the group as viewed within late-sixties prisms but deserve to be disseminated all these years later. More interesting to me though is the heavily Velvets-influenced Scratch Orchestra spinoff group C.O.M.E.T. (later known as C.U.M. or C.W.M. depending on the source) whose members consisted of England's better known experimental composers including John Tilbury (on keys) as well as  Michael Nyman doing VCS3 synthesizer. A gig of note was at  Scratch Festival held at the Wandelkonzert at the German Institute in London May '71 which featured the band roaring through a 45-minute "Sister Ray" that I hope has been recorded for posterity along with more efforts by this act, especially since this was all being done before Velvets-consciousness became a must-have in the world of distraught upper-middle-class altruistic types. If anyone knows of any available (or not so) information or recordings, please point me in the right direction.

Yeah, I know it might be a little tough listening to anything that Tilbury has laid his mitts on (after all, I don't exactly have any great love for the guy considering that his response to the 9/11 attacks was a simple "they deserved it", staunch Maoist he was and shall remain since his own political leanings have nary a taint of blood on their working class pinkies*), but an act like C.O.M.E.T./C.U.M./C.W.M. might be yet another important rock missing link in the gathering of various punk mutations and Velvets influence flow-charts. Sheesh, I kinda wonder if these guys were yet another one of those VU-inspired English acts Andy Mackay was telling me about in that still sticking out in my psyche dream I had well over a year back!
Other'n all that I must admit that the past week has been yet a little more nothing as Tuli Kupferberg had so stately put it! Not that I didn't get a li'l bit of my own listening pleasure in between the sordid realities of it all (sample list: CHURCH OF ANTHRAX, SPACE RITUAL, YETI, Roxy Music's FIRST KISS boot), but other'n those and the magic wares listed below (thanks to Bill Shute, Bob Forward, P.D. Fadensonnen, Paul McGarry, Bob Richert and the Bruit Direct Disques people) there really wasn't much to live for not counting a few GILLIGAN's ISLAND re-re-reruns I managed to catch. I'm hoping that the record situation does straighten itself out as the days roll on but really, given just how dead music in general (and not just that of the hearty rock 'n roll variety) has been for ages I might as well hope that all of those issues with the Milton Berle Estate have been cleared up and that I'll finally get that willie he willed me a good twentysome years back! But other'n that sorta wishful thinking here's what you've all been waiting for:

Mamitori Ulithi Empress Yonaguni San-25/12/2013 LP (Bruit Direct Disques France, also available via Forced Exposure)

Got a package from a French avant rock label called Bruit Direct Disques that looks mighty tasty to me, but what got me digging into this particular platter first was the big and undoubtedly gross-looking moth featured on the front cover (which ain't even an "Empress Moth" as the group's own moniker would suggest but one of the Atlas variety!). Well, I guess grossness is one way to get my attention as all of you ass-pickers and fartsters out there know by now, but boy is this one wild! Wild like the best avant clank of the late-seventies only without the preciousness that marred many of these free-form acts as the years went on. Mamitori Ulithi Empress Yonaguni San are a Japanese act in case you were unaware, and they continue on that great tradition of free sound with all of our favorite touch-points thrown in as well as some actual melodies that reflect the group's own Far East heritage. Might be too loose for some but I find it went smoothly down my cerebellum. Can you believe that???
Owen Maercks-TEENAGE SEX THERAPIST Cd-r burn (originally on Feeding Tube Records)

I kinda wonder if Byron Coley was looking for another Gary Wilson with this 'un. If so I don't think he's quite got one but it's still hokay. West Coast self-produced effort that comes off like a weirdo exchange between mid-seventies Roxy Music and Devo with the usual oddball suspects (Zappa) thrown in. And to top it all off it don't sound a bad as you think I'm tellin' you it does! Sure there was a load of these similar-minded home-cranked product out at the time, but how many of 'em were able to get Henry Kaiser (not a big name in my book but boy can he move product!) on 'em? If your tastes move towards anything from REHEATED CHOCOLATE TANGOES to YOU THINK YOU REALLY KNOW ME, I'd gamble the XX bucks or so it would take to track this down.
Various Artists-THE LAST OF THE GARAGE PUNK UNKNOWNS VOLUME ONE CD-r burn (originally on Crypt)

Paul McGarry sent me burns of the entire "last of" series, this being not only the first one of this new batch of garage band rarities but the first one I've managed to give the ol' college try. Of course it's the proverbial wowzer that proves that there's still great six-oh rock to be discovered and it ain't all dudster nth-rate leftovers like some of those eighties comps seemed to show. A jambus-packtus one here too featuring bands I've never heard about before (and probably never will after!), but they're all great primal thud outfits who not only know how to pound out the familiar mid-sixties chord changes but are wise in the ways of swiping directly from the biggies like the Nightcrawlers and Them, sometimes combining these outright steals into one massive if plagiarized song! Although I do sometimes fear that the barrel has been scraped beyond all hope of any more juicy bits like this there still is hope which the next four volumes in this series should deliver on!
London Dri-WESTERN SKIES CD-r burn

There must be thousands of these forgotten platters still waiting to be discovered by just about every Greg Shaw wannabe left on the planet, and London Dri typify what I'm sure a whole batch of those mid-sixties guitar gobblers came off like. Mebbe it is a little too "West Coast" for some of you sticklers out there, but I find these guys rather entertaining despite their lack of slick lick proficiency and a rather clunky production job. The death throes of Los Angeles folk rock collide with a bit of sunshine pop and psychedelia to make for a pretty good offering that I must say is hard to compare to various other "touch points" your minds might be able to focus your mind on. Contains what I believe to be the first ever Big Brother and the Holding Company cover version which should give 'em some hotche credo points with you San Francisco remnants out there.
David Holland Quartet-CONFERENCE OF THE BIRDS CD-r burn (originally on ECM)

I've passed on way more than my share of these ECM items if only because of that label's reputation for some of the more gnu age-y approaches to presenting the new thing jazz. Why I passed on this 'un I do not know because CONFERENCE OF THE BIRDS is everything good about that early-seventies avant garde approach to the form that has been maligned throughout the ages. Bassist Holland is joined by not only longtime associate Anthony Braxton but free jazz pioneer Sam Rivers and percussionist Barry Altschul and the three really do work it out copasetic-like on these numbers. Some of this is actually accessible enough even to those ears who think that Paul Whiteman might just be a little too "out there" for comfort so you know you're gonna be in for a varied if exhilarating time. If you (like me) go for those Arista/Freedom Braxton tracks also with Holland and Altschul this is but more of the same.

I kinda get the feeling that this particular moom pitcher ain't anything that I'd care to hit my local concrete bunker to see, but the soundtrack album might just be the best 'un to have popped up onna racks since EASY RIDER or even CANDY for that matter! Members of the Gulcher Records stable (Hypocrite in a Hippy Crypt, Home Blitz...howcum no Gizmos?) perform music that's calm cool 'n collected, mostly acoustic and perhaps pretty much in tune with the actions goin' on on-scree, and although I usually like my music a li'l more meaty I found the sounds emanating from my bedside box a perfect addition to the particularly gloomy Sunday I'm now typing this to. Best of the batch: X-Ray Eyeballs who are either ahead of the rest of the newer-than-new music pack, or just retro-anti-stodgy enough to sooth my own wayback tastes.
The Marquee Review-LIVE CD-r burn (originally on JA)

I didn't know that Omaha was this dullsville, or at least it would seem so after listening to this early-seventies bar band's live album which cranks out the hits, AM and FM, in a way that ain't offensive or loathe-inducing at all but is still far from the hard grind I usually want in my recorded jollies. Kinda sounds like something that would have been recorded in the area in which I live and my cyster would mention how she knew the drummer's next door neighbor or something to that effect and that she walked by the school gym while they were performing during the spring dance or something but she couldn't stay because she was only there to drop off a term paper. Gotta admit that the listening tastes of teenbo Ameriga 1971 were limp enough that you can just imagine alla those iron-haired gals flipping over the likes of a local cover band like this, After all, if they could go nuts over James Taylor they could go nuts over anything.
Various Artists-PURTY JINGLE IMAGE FLAGS CD-r burn (Bill Shute)

Talk about internet-scraping with the bevy of trackage Bill slapped on this one! Some of these numbers veer towards nerdy if attention grabbing garage band (Fables, Satan's Sinners) while other feature rarities by acts known far and wide (the Isley Brothers, the Turtles coming as close to the Byrds as they ever did), while the obligatory soul stuff and tossout material also satisfies me more than J. Neo Marvin ever will, you thilly thing!

What got me really going this time was, besides the Turtle and Sinners sides, the weirdo radio interview with a Tennessee fire chief, the ad for Avon Natural Sheen (dunno if any Avon rep'd wanna go into that part of town but who knows?), the weird song to be used for back massages, and this unbelievable "commercial" for the Ortho Pharmaceutical Corporation pushing their contraceptive products to the tune of "There Is Nothing Like a Dame" from SOUTH PACIFIC!!!! All I gotta say is, good thing I didn't leave the room with this playing while Aunt Mabel was visiting!!!

*...but I gotta admit do I wish I could be as senselessly cruel as he is!

Wednesday, September 16, 2015


It's too bad that Griffith's original 1914 version of this film (featuring the cream of the original Griffith players who would pretty much disperse before 1916 was over and done with) is lost for good, but at least his remake in the form of a 1928 "seriocomedy" survives to thrill all five of us old moom pitcher fans extant. Far from being the cinematic turdburger some evil types have led us to believe, THE BATTLE OF THE S*XES is a sit down and kick up yer feet goodie starring the future Dr. Christian himself Jean Hersholt as this fuddy-duddy midaged fambly guy (complete with the dumpy yet devoted wife and the teenage kids who make Cookie and Alexander Bumstead look like Karen and Richard Carpenter) who falls for the most OBVIOUS of golddigging flappers (played by Phyllis Haver) out to get her paws on a big hunka that real estate moolah that got Hersholt a nice front page story inna local paper. With the aid of future VOICE OF HOLLYWOOD host Don Alvarado (doing a nice sleazy acting job worthy of Willy Castello) Haver sinks her slutzy fangs into Hersholt so deep that he's actually giving wifey the ol' working late story while whooping it up with his cotton candy-haired ho', and mommy actually believes it!

Of course the jig is up about halfway through the pic when the kids decide to take mother out to a swank restaurant where you know who is doin' the smoochie smooch with his fresh fish hatchery and is caught red (or maybe even white) handed in the process. (And even then mom's in total denial thinking that hubby had just tied on a few too many that evening and wasn't thinking properly---sheesh!) As any normil hornified guy with his head on straight would do, dad moves out on the clan upsetting mum to the point where she's on the brink of jumping off the apartment roof only to be rescued at the last moment by who else but daughter (nice shots simulating the gravity pull there, D.W.!) at which point the distraught teenbo decides to handle matters her way, mainly by heading over to the slut's penthouse apartment and placing a few well-directed pieces of lead through her relatively flat chest in the only way of saving face she knows about!!!

Nice old timey melodrama here that ain't as cornballus as one would expect even a late silent like this to be, and even though the twenties was a period in film history when Griffith was definitely "out of time" and perhaps "touch" as well I find this 'un as easy-sitting as a variety of late-period silents that I used to espy on such shows as THE SILENT YEARS and OLD MOVIES, THE GOLDEN ERA back when television (even your local PBS station) used to really matter.

And for being the master of Victorian stuffiness Griffith lets himself loose here throwing in some funny scenes that actually do seem in place even if you're not gonna upchuck laughing at it all. Best of all it looks good, the acting is good even though the mother seems to be a little too old time sensitive for my stomach (kinda reminds me of the mom in that "Surprise Cake" episode of THE LITTLE RASCALS who was just too emotional to be allowed to live), the teenage daughter (Sally O'Neill) is actually cute enough that you wouldn't mind skinnydipping with her, and even the modern day musical score doesn't make ya wanna crap. Woulda been a great way to spend a mid-seventies evening tuned into PBS, but at least we now have other ways to get our old timey jamz in, right?

Sunday, September 13, 2015

I would apologize regarding the comparative skimpiness of this week's set of reviews, but (frankly and TO TELL THE TRUTH in typical Bud Collyer fashion) there really hasn't been much time for me to go through all of the Cee-Dee-Are backlog that's been piling up besides my bed as of the past seven or so earthspins. And besides, I don't apologize anymore ever since John Wayne told me* not to because hey, only LOSERS apologize and don't you just know it. And it's even worse when they apologize without being forced to like I was back when I was a mere suburban post-turdler grade school sap and swiped somebody's cookie or something equally castration-worthy (or at least that's the idea my teachers gave me!). Besides, after all the pushing around I got when I was a kid maybe the people out there should be linin' up to apologize to ME!!!!, but I get the idea that waiting for something this monumental to happen would be like waiting for the next issue of KICKS to wing its way to my mailbox and my lung capacity ain't big enough to hold my breath for any long periods of time.

Now here's something I definitely won't apologize for, a li'l thing I picked up when (in the midst of a bad-taste jag) I decided to google some typically offensive NATIONAL LAMPOON items but a few days ago. Cyst suggested I not post but I will not only because it is. extremely funny, but it will (make that should) undoubtedly upset a few mealy-minds esp. in today's geldarama atmosphere which certainly does deserve a (non-sexual) enema if I do say so myself! In other words its offensiveness only makes it all the more meaningful if I do say so myself, so please prepare to rend your garments in that eye-grabbing, SJW way that you are best known for (click to enlarge, numby!):

RIP film and tee-vee star Martin Milner, who probably kicked bucket bigtime after reading my rather recent review of SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE! I mean...what else? Also adieu to Judy Carne, a gal who I thought was pretty hotcha looking when I'd espy her on LAUGH IN (before that one became strictly verboten in the hovel due to the bodypaint bikini dancing!) though those stories about Burt Reynolds and her sex life (which in her own NATIONAL ENQUIRER-published words turned her "bi"!) really make me cringe. Well, at least that aspect of her life (the "bi" part) probably kept her occupied enough when she was serving time in prison for cocaine back inna eighties, although those stories about Myra Hindley tagging about really are too creepy for words!
Gotta say that I sure did pick a nice li'l selection regarding what I did have time to spineroothese past seven earth rotations. Again, thanks to the usual suspects like Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and dunno who else (as for PD and Robert Forward, just found some things from ages back buried deep in the labyrinth...will get to them more sooner than later unless I lose 'em again!) who send me more of these silver dollars than I have the time to play given my rather limited schedule. Sure had fun listening to them which is cool, but honest to goodness I think I really would have had more fun had alla ya sent me a few thousand big ones to do what I wanted to with it. But somehow I get the idea you guys ain't that generous!

Doctor Feelgood-PRIVATE PRACTICE; JAPAN REMASTER EDITION CD-r burn (originally on Warner Music)

The post-Wilco Johnson-period Feelgood really didn't jolt me the way they shoulda just the way the post-Feelgood Wilco Johnson output was kinda kitten-purr, but this late-seventies import bin stuffer sure sounds better'n the whole load of whiteguy blooze that's been pounded out for quite a longer time than one can imagine. There's nothing here that tingles me to the bone the way most BLOG TO COMM-approved favorites do, but I gotta admit that there's a drive and pounce to these numbers (including a cover of that NUGGETS fave "Night Time") that sure spews excitement and vigor the way the entire AM/FM "talent" (combined) of the same strata could never to no matter how much lead you poured up their hineys. The live and "outtake" tracks added on at the end do show a certain grasp on the concept of "energy" as well...and to think that alla you suburban slobs were bored outta your minds thinking that all there was was a choice between disco and Christopher Cross when there was a full "Jem" catalog of stuff like this waiting for your approval!
Noel Harrison-SANTA MONICA PIER CD-r burn (originally on Reprise)

If Mirjanou Bardot's the original Chris Jagger does that make Noel Harrison the original Gary Lewis? The infamous GIRL FROM U.N.C.L.E. co-star and son of Rex sleepwalks his way through a number of new songs I believe he wrote himself along with some old standbys, and before you get to the second number you get the idea that this entire turdburger was released if only to capitalize on Harrison's name-recognition and not for any particular warbling talent on his part. Speak-song in the Telly Savalas tradition, only in this case you could tell the artist right to his face that this sucks and you won't get beat up. Keep it up Noel, and you'll be back on VIBRATIONS ENCORE faster than you can say "PBS Pledge Break"!
The Strypes-LITTLE VICTORIES CD-r burn (originally on Virgin)

Nothing special from these Irish retro bluesrockers who are only milking the past umpteen years of mid-sixties revival in new skins the way a few thousand other groups out there have. Now reader, there is nothing here that's offensive or even tiring to the ol' ears, but then again there really isn't anything about LITTLE VICTORIES that stretches the boundaries to the point of breakage. Nor is there that same spark of erotic wonderment that made many a teenage pimplefarm gather soda pop bottles to exchange for cash so that he could scarf up some yellow vinyl Stiff Records single because the guys on the cover looked just the way he wished he could! Even their version of "Kick Out The Jams" (with new woids) can't save the overall mid-teens plainness of it all.
ALAN GERBER ALBUM CD-r burn (originally on Shelter)

I don't care if this guy was in Rhinoceros (in fact, I don't particularly care for what little I've heard of Rhinoceros myself but that's another post), this album is pretty bland in that early-seventies singer/songwriter way. And (even though you didn't ask) that comes complete with the standard stabs at country 'n blooze styles that still conjures up memories of gals in headbands and bell bottoms who had that "oh yeah?" tone in their voice. For those of you readers who think that Leon Russell, J. J. Cale and the rest of the Shelter label were just too raucous for their good timey tastes, this is for you.. Speaking of Shelter, was there ever a lawsuit over the label's original logo featuring the copyrighted Superman symbol placed upon the familiar egg which soon became but a simple scrawl? Given National's litigious nature I would certainly think so!
Rincon Surfside Band-THE SURFING SONG BOOK CD-r burn (originally on Dunhill)

Notsobad surf cash in featuring "Eve of Destruction" and "It Ain't Me" author P.F. Sloan along with partner in surf Steve Barri cranking the cheapie covers out with (seemingly) relative ease. Kinda part instrumental with the vocals kept to the mere basics, this one's custom made for the bedroom gremmie to chant along to without the fear of being caught by the meaner kids in class. Competent covers actually do come closer to the originals than those Lou Reed crankouts for Pickwick did as if competency meant anything in the real rock 'n roll world, but at least this time it counts.
Various Artists-BLACK OUT; BORDER TOWN ROCK N' ROLL 1961-1964 CD (Norton)

Here's the last platter from my recent Norton order to get the royal BTC treatment, yet another collection of rare Bobby Fuller and somehow related sides that once again fits in swell with that Bobby Fuller bio I blabbed about awhile back. The early Fuller sides once again deliver on that pre-Beatle punch that I like outta alla those early locally-produced singles that definitely took the garage aesthetic a few notches in the right direction (I particularly like Fuller's "Say Honey" which showcases a particularly treble-y sound that was so prevalent in those pre-bass guitar days), while the singles recorded for Fuller's Eastwood and Exeter labels all have that cool knotty pine feeling that really brings forth alla that power and might to be found in an instrumental recorded by mid-teens who had only a basic idea of how to handle their gear. Yet another winner even though I can't gauge exactly where you readers are coming from anymore and whether or not you care for this particular cup of brew. But then again, so what!.
Various Artists-THAT MYSTIC QUESTIONAIRE CD-r burn (Bill Shute)

Bill certainly was in a jovial mood when he slapped this 'un together what with more of those legendary "apple gunkies" commercials 'n all. For mid-sixties satire these certainly do rate better'n some of the "other" lame stabs at humor that were going around then (I mean, how many jokes can you make about the good looks of Lady Bird Johnson anyway?) and if you like reading those old issues of MAD and HELP! these might fit in with your sense of hummus rather well.

The music enclosed ain't that bad either, if you're looking for a good cheap imitation of the real deal. The Mystic Five do a fair enough moody New England-styled rock downer true, but whoever THAT ENGLISH SOUND were I KNOW they were aiming for the Aunt Flabbies and Uncle Ferds of this world on the lookout for Christmas presents for their adolescent Beatlewigged nephews! Really, anybody who thought that tracks like "You Make the Decisions" sounded remotely beat would have to be charter members of the Jan Garber fan club! The entire album ain't here, but I will say that at least the Beatles attempts were halfway good for a buncha studio guys who perhaps preferred to remain anonymous. But overall this record sounds more East Liverpool Ohio than the place o'er in Limeyland to me!

At least the Questionaires have a better handle on their suburban slobness with competent covers of the Cryan' Shames, Blues Magoos and the Animals via. John Lee Hooker, all done up on a scratchy low-fi platter that sounds lilke it was recorded in one of those "Record Your Voice" booths. Good enough but in a "Sorry Charlie" sorta way. I wouldn't mind knowing more about this band but then again, maybe not. Who knows, the bass guitarist might have been that old geezer I flipped off at the supermarket yesterday.

*...and I've told you a millyun times!

Thursday, September 10, 2015


Here's one from the winning team of GREEN ACRES director Richard L. Bare and his former partner in Joe McDoakes crime George O'Hanlon, a nifty li'l drive-in packer starring early-sixties tee-vee star Gardner McKay and old standby Fred Clark as a pair of rivals racing to Tahiti for big stakes, the former with a crew of young nubiles guaranteed to get your eyes popped out (amongst other things) and the latter with a professional crew and a whole lotta subterfuge on his mind. Meanwhile GREEN ACRES' own Pat Buttrum's popping in and out as this small town sheriff on the hunt for one of McKay's crew members who says she's running away from "something" but by the time we find out we'll wish we hadn't!

It's a good enough moom considering how it plays sexy in a safe way (meaning lotsa cleavage but no titties in this Tahiti!) and has the right balance of comedy, action, tension and general down home funzies. I sat through the entire thing w/o fantasizing about whatever extraneous activities I could have been engaging in at the time, that's how fun this one was. In fact this 'un reminds me of those boffo mid-seventies lazy Sunday afternoons after the flea market when I'd plop down in front of the set for some UHF viewing before heading into that other teenbo activity that were certainly bad for the eyesight.  And with the bevy o' beauties that could be found in this moom what normil kinda guy wouldn't?  

So if you do feel some sorta pangs o' regret that you spent your pimplefarm years studying and generally trying to be a fifteen-year-old Mr. Weatherbee maybe you should slip this 'un on the Dee-Vee-Dee player and while you're at it make sure you're stocked up on the Vaseline Intensive Care. And be sure to get your eyes checked regularly, and maybe a li'l Nair in the places where you don't want abnormal hair growth will help too, eh?

Saturday, September 05, 2015

I don't usually ask you reader's opinions or advice regarding just about anything considering just how knowledgeable and well-versed in the BTC-approved arts sphere I am, but sometimes there comes a rock 'n roll (I think) group that  I'm curious about and would sure like to give a listen to even if doing so will cost me some hard-begged moolah that could be put to better begged efforts. Perhaps it was a rock personality who I quite admire might have spoken or written about the group in question, or better yet a fave-rave group had mentioned them as an all-important influence, but whatever the fact may be it is """"""""""I"""""""""" who somehow is all excited over the mere mention of this mystery act, as if there was yet ONE MORE REASON for me to become all hyped up and bothered over a musical act that hopefully will change my perspective on the big beat once and perhaps FOREVER!!!

And given just how hard the rock thrills are comin' these days it's like I'm pretty interested in hearing said act because hey, what else is there out in what used to be rock 'n roll land to get any of us all hot and bothered anyway??? There are a few "current" groups that do perk my pubes true, but none of them really excite me the way talk about a hotcha band of the past woulda because back then, they all knew better. Like f'rinstance all that talk over the past ten years regarding the likes of the Wooden Gyps and Moon Duo (groups who seem as if they would be up my expansive alley) has gotten me a tad curious, but hearing the raves from a diseased mind of a San Francisco blogger ain't exactly gonna have me rushin' to the ebay "Buy It Now!" store to dish out any precious lucre, y'know?

Sometimes these li'l nudges work, such as with the Thorinshield album which made the Mirrors list of acts that had contributed greatly to their overall sound and approach. Sometimes they don't, and I gotta say that right now I do get kinda leery of trying out new to my ears acts because hey, the moolah ain't as flowin' as it once was and besides, when I play tracks from certain groups via youtube etc. there's a certain loss in translation from those vibrations to my ears that just doesn't happen when I spin a record in the privacy of my own fart-encrusted boudoir.

Jon Savage's liner notes for the recent DIE ELECTRIC EELS platter bring up the surprising fact that one of this venerable group's influences was the Fleetwood Mac THEN PLAY ON album (and I never really cared for Mac even during their Jeremy Green-era blooze days...oh well), so whether or not I decide to snatch up a copy of that particular slab is very much open to debate. However, the two not-so-recent references to the long-forgotten Cat Mother and the All Night Newsboys that I just happened to chance upon got me curious enough to wanna give 'em a try, even though I can remember from way back in my teenbo record bin hopping day their early-seventies longplayer where the band appear on a cover painting looking like a buncha hippies playing nothing but commune inspired Scoobie Doobie Boones Farm downhome goodness!

But hey, I just feel like taking a chance on these guys because like I've said before I am STARVED for some more old rock 'n roll with that long-forgotten late-sixties anti-technological stylings, and it ain't like I'm gonna be living as long as The Phantom so's I better get my rock 'n roll energy in as soon as possible and any way permissible!

Jonathan Richman (in the pages of the FUSION sixties wrap up edition) listed Cat Mother's "Marie" as one of the top songs of that slam pow decade. Seemed like a good enough tip considering the man's great penchant for early-sixities AM pop, mid-sixties smart pop and late-sixties rock experimentation. I also believe that none other than BTC guiding light Imants Krumins was a fan and follower of theirs which adds up to mucho brownie points for them. However, for some reason or another (and while I was on the pot last night doing my daily doody) a review of the group's by-now already "All Night Newsboys"-less LAST CHANCE DANCE courtesy Mark Jenkins in the pages of HYPERION (summer '73 ish) popped up in between the splashes and it somehow struck me as a clear call to gobble up the group's early releases despite this particular writeup being quite damning. I'm sure that nobody on the face of the earth would mind if I reprinted it en toto here so I will if only that you will get a taste of what Jenkins was talking about...and besides I gotta class up this blog by reprinting some Golden Age of Rock Writing gems now, don't I???:

LAST CHANCE DANCE, huh? If that title indicates that this album is Cat Mother's last chance to sell some records before getting canned by Polydor, they've blown it. I have and like their first three albums and I still wouldn't give 'em another chance on the basis of this turkey. Recorded at Electric Ladyland in New York, but I'll give you one guess where songs like "Redwood Blues" were written. Actually Cat Mother's lived in Northern California since before their second album, but never has it been so obvious as on this rockless record.

A lot of things are predictable Cat Mother: they still produce some of the most inane lyrics in current rock ("He's an outdoor man/He's a far out man/Gonna save our land"). still believe that every album should have a long cut (the one for this album, "The Paranoid Papers," is actually their best yet, featuring an inventive medley of "Outdoor Man" and "This Land is Your Land" that turns into some mindless saxophone doodling), and still feature one instrumental per album. The real problem is shown by that cut: the present band's instrumental work is thoroughly uninteresting and, furthermore, they have not come up with one decent tune. They once featured competent guitar, two violins, and driving organ; these days organist Bob Smith is the only credible musician, and he plays mostly piano on this record.

The first two Cat Mother albums are the real winners, featuring lots of rock 'n roll, instrumental flash, and some catchy laid-back numbers. They're in the bargain bins, so they're worth your money. If, however, you see a Cat Mother album with pictures of a rock festival on the front and a bunch of fagged out hippies on the back, don't touch it at any price: it's this one. More proof that Marin County degenerates your rock and roll soul.

Like many of the best rock 'n roll reviews extant, this one stimulates many musical pleasure nodes in one's mind even when trying to explain the futility of the subject at hand (Lester Bangs' review of the first MC5 album did this, albeit in quite a different fashion). The likes and loathes about Cat Mother are laid out for you to see, and although no way in fanabla would I think about obtaining LAST CHANCE DANCE for my collection the earlier ones do sound tasty. And with Richman's own thumbs up I actually do feel like snatching up a copy of THE STREET GIVETH rather flash-like if only to hear "Marie" may be turned off because ol' Jimi himself produced the thing (that is, if you hold the same sorta opinions about the left-handed one that Don Fellman does), but it did sport a really cool cover, eh? Kinda reminds me of those early-seventies Kama Sutra offerings in that cheap, lower-class guttural style.
Those of you who are on the lookout for more heart-cockling info regarding one of the top BTC bands of all time, just get an eyefulla this interview with Electric Eels strongman John Morton for a resensification you'll never forget. It's really great to see that the Eels are still remembered this far down the high energy rock memory lane we all like to stroll in, but in all honesty is there any way we can get humanity to forget Anastasia Pantsios???
Other'n that all I gotta really say is...whatta week, eh? Pretty slow around these parts, though with the weather finally getting warm I guess we can all hope for a real hot autumn before those snow cloud start rollin' in. And thankfully I got a few newies to brag about, and with the workload easing up a tad bit I have had enough time to listen to some old faves which I sure am glad are getting their money's worth  too!

Considering what is coming out on the under-the-underground (like the Mars LP) I do have reason to stick around if only to give these particular platters their proper place in the pantheon of BLOG TO COMM greatness! Heck, I had even been thinking about snatching a copy of the new Chrissie Hynde autobio not because I am a Pretenders fan by any stretch of the imagination but I gotta admit ol' Chrissie sure was a good writer back when she was freelancin' for the NME what with those live reviews of Magma as well as that piece on Mose Allison everybody seems to be talkin' about even this late in the game. Besides that I'm sure interested in hearing her memories of not only the Kent/Cleveland/Akron underground of which she was a very peripheral member, but her stormy relation with Nick Kent that sure gotta lotta space mention in Kent's own tome. Maybe I'll wait for this one to hit the remaindered rack...after all why should I pay $20 for at least a good fifty cents of information that'll probably be disseminated on the web gratis???

And with that here's what you've all been waiting for!:

Marty Wilson-JUN'GALA CD-r burn (originally on Warner Brothers)

Flea market stack ya-ta-ta that's been around so long you think that the last person to listen to this 'un was your Unca Edmund, and he died in 1968. Anyhoo this is more-a-dat exotic rhumba bumba for the hi-fi nut who used to play Tchaikovsky's 1812 OVERTURE full blast to get them cannon effects. Unfortunately the kinda gals who used to love to get their tits rubbed to these soothing strains have given way to a more feral bunch I wouldn't wanna go near in a millyun years. As they usedta say, "that went out with the Edsel" though in many ways it went out with Norforms as well.
The Stone Canyon Rock Group-MACARTHUR PARK CD-r burn (originally on Custom)

Bill slipped somethingorother by this group into one of his "mix tapes" (or in this case "mix Cee-Dees"), and probably because I LOVED IT SO MUCH he's sent an entire album by this studio group who was riffin' on the hits of the day and shippin' 'em straight to the budget bin of your choice! It ain't that bad really if you're in the market for 99-cent versions of those real-life albums that would cost you $3.50 at the local Montgomery Wards, complete with poop juice versions of faves such as the title track (still wanna hear the Choir's legendary tackling of the famed Richard Harris romper) as well as a sampling of misses both famous and not. Most notable of the batch is their take on "Wild Times" which is best known by you via THE INNER SOUNDS OF THE ID album which is a real cooker in itself. A good enough spinner that, if you had snatched this up at any supermarket ca. 1968 you probably woulda forgotten to buy the eggs you went for and thus woulda been sent back to complete your task!
RALPH RECORDS 10th ANNIVERSARY RADIO SPECIAL with your host Penn Jillette CD-r burn

Words just can't express my loathing for that Jillette guy (faux REASON-styled libertarian who really is just as much a shill for the lamestream powers that be as Jon Stewart and the rest of those "cutting edge" smirkers) so it was quite a struggle for me to make it through this particular program ostensibly "celebrating" Ralph Records's tenth anniversary way back in the early days of the eighties.

I don't exactly believe the premise behind it all, but supposedly Jillette was cloistered in a cheap-o motel for six days listening to various Ralph produce, giving his so-called honest opinions of what had passed his ears that particular day. Most of the time Jillette comes off like a typical eighties above-it-all musical ignoramus or better yet yer grandpappy who thought that those abstract paintings were just a waste o' paint. Maybe he was clueless, or maybe he was just putting us on in that typical Jillette style. Who knows (or dare I say cares).

I guess Jillette was trying to put a decent spin on these recordings and trying to be entertaining in the process, but frankly I could care as much about what he thinks about these platters as I do Pinky Lee's. Why some of his comments were double tracked making for difficult listening I do not know, but I do know that this particular spinner made for a rather unpleasant Wednesday evening listening experience.
Alien Planetscapes-BLUE MARS CD-r burn (Galactus, available via Richard Orlando)

This edition of Alien Planetscapes features group regular Doug Walker duetting with synth/guitar player Richard Orlando doing what I'd call some nice introverted calm electronic soundscapes that woulda been the perfect thing for any self-respecting Sci Fi fan(abla) to listen to while reading the latest issue of LOCUS. There are eighteen tracks featuring short pieces that conjure up all of those Hawkwind memories without the big beat, sounding a lot like the kind of incidental sounds one might have heard on a PBS television station back '75 way. Warm-sounding in that analog tradition that might make you wanna wile your way to the nearest import bin, that is until you realize that there ain't been any import bins around for at least the last thirty-five years.
Sam Setzer-HUNTER/JUMPER CD (Gulcher)

Sometimes these outta nowhere platters that seem to spring from outta nada really catch me totally by surprise. This one sure does, that's for sure! I dunno who this Setzer guy is, but he sure sings like that guy in America who was trying to imitate Neil Young. Don't let that put you off because the man sure comes up with some nifty melodies (think classic Byrds filtered through the Shangs) and puts out a product that recalls late-sixties el-lay moves more than it does 2010 emoindie mewl. For a nobody, this guy really made a platter that puts alla those big name moneygrubbers (old and new) to shame. A must pick up if you ever feel doubt that those folk rock days of yore have been replaced by a whole slew of "rockers" who are so pallid even Patti Page comes off high energy in comparison.

What was once shocking and controversial is....still shocking and controversial. Well, at least it is around this ol' abode, and frankly it's questionable morality crankout stuff such as this which keeps my mattress all lumped up considering how I gotta hide these things from the fambly somewhere! Mike Curb's soundtrack does the ongoing screen carnage rather well complete with those Davie Allen fuzztone cantatas and cute li'l Asian-themed ditties to keep your ears perked. The narration doesn't begin until side two, so if ya wanna hear some dour establishment voice blab on about marijuana, teenbo whores and wopadago homos you'll have to wade through the boffo instrumental trackage before the sermonettes start.
Various Artists-CLASS OF '66 CD-r burn (originally on Wanted)

More of that other end of the six-oh spectrum. There were probably more of these freshman loser teenage bands frolicking around in the knotty pines of Ameriga back inna mid-sixties than we thought existed, and in case you didn't get enough of 'em on a myriad asst. of other compilations o'er the years here are more. Actually these nerdoid sons of the cheap drums and Japanese copy guitar set can put out good enough rockers, some boffo enough to have made it to a BACK FROM THE GRAVE even, and I sure gotta admit to liking these horn-rimmed homebodies' ability to transcend the Mechanical Drawing 101 mindset to produce these moody moaners. Besides featuring bands who were calling themselves the Saints and Pastels before other groups thought such monikers up years later CLASS OF '66 actually sports a track by the infamous Hunt/Tony Sales pre-Rundgren/Iggy aggregation Tony and the Tigers, and I still can remember my mom wondering why Soupy didn't march his kids off to the barber shop and like right NOW!
Various Artists-JOHN GLENN PHASER-SLIPPER CD-r burn (Bill Shute)

In between some of the most laid back ca. '73 radio jingles ever created (so lame that even Harry Chapin comes off hardcore in comparison)  are a number of quite interesting internet finds courtesy Bill Shute the Science Snoot! Don't care much for Cara Stewart singing some fifties lounge thing that sounds as if it were created especially for an episode of the old MIKE HAMMER television series, but it was sure fun listening to Ken Richards trying to apply the "Big Bad John"/"PT 109" formula to John Glenn's spacecapade while the infamous Neil Norman "Phaser-Laser" shows up reminding me of all of those mentions it used to get in the pages of fanzines nationwide. Stonehenge were so zoned out that I thought they had put out a hypnotism record though the American Express were pretty nice post-garage that lacked hooks and energy but so what. However, I must tell you that this spinner didn't even hit the half-hour mark making me wonder what's wrong with Bill...sheesh, you're spending too much time betting on dawgs and not enough on your ol' pal Chris aren'tcha!

Thursday, September 03, 2015

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE starring Mamie Van Doren, Tuesday Weld and Mirjanou Bardot (Allied Artists, 1960)

If you like your moom pitcher entertainment typically early sixties non-sophisticado fun-like, then you'll probably enjoy this one more'n Bowlsley Cowper did. Mamie Van Doren's at her titular best (jes' a play on words---I know what "titular" means!)  in SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE as this high-falutin' genius of a college professor who's hired by some podunk house of learning and sets the place on fire given her hi IQ and wow wow body. Tuesday Weld plays this co-ed who's really hot for the Big Moose-ish captain of the football team who's having a hard time cozying up to members of the lumpier sex, while Mirjanou Bardot, the original Chris Jagger, pops up (and out) as an exchange student from France who's writing a thesis on the rugged and violent Amerigan male and meets up with this dunce-ish thug who's on the lookout for "Thinko". That's the college's eight-foot robot of a computer who can figure out just about anything anybody wants to know, but no way in heck could he ever have predicted Caitlyn Jenner if you want me to be all current events about it.

This moom is definitely a real hunka fun, also starring a ROUTE 66-era Martin Milner in the leading guy role they probably wanted Tab Hunter for, not forgetting Louie Nye as a skittish prof in a role that they probably wanted Byron Foulger for, and John Carradine as a horny instructor at this institute that they probably wanted John Carradine for! Jackie Coogan plays an eccentric Texan,  Charlie Chaplin Jr a fireman (it must have been part of a package deal like in the equally Mamie Van Doren-laden HIGH SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL), Conway Twitty, and even Vampira show up in this romp that drags out all of your favorite early-sixties gags turning and plopping them all into a wildly entertaining moom that dredges up alla that sixties cool faster than you can say "Brush your breath with Dentyne!"

Yeah the snobs'll puke on it but I got a whole lotta enjoyment outta it tha equalled the time I saw Dick Clark bopping around with Ronnie Howard in BECAUSE THEY'RE YOUNG back when I was ten and thought it was way hipper and cooler than Joe Cocker doing his Muscular Distrophy routine. Great teenbo camp and jokes guaranteed to bring the gang in, and the fact that the leading femmes aren't exactly Moms Mabley also helps the B.O. quotient mighty.

Of course the BIGGEST surprise in the moom really comes at the end, when "Thinko" has a nervous breakdown and begins imagining a bevy of bouncy beauties doing some rather daring striptease with exposed jiggling mams galore as the robot pants and oohs along with a chimp in striped shirt, sunglasses and golfing pants who gets his shares of bestial moans in. Yeah, this scene only appeared in the overseas version but I sure got an eyefull (bet it re-ups my Macular Degeneration) and I positively do get the idea that a good portion of you red-blooded boys would love to this portion of the film considering that this was made at a time when during a time when ladies looked like ladies and didn't adorn their bods with tattoos and shiny doohickeys. I tell ya, experiencing a moom like this was definitely akin to watching some good ol' Walt Disney Mousekateer flick and alla a sudden Annette Funicello reveals her suckems for all to see!