La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "This is Why You Pay the Big Bucks to Live in NYC" Edition

Okay, before we go any further, I'm sure you're all wondering what my reaction to Tuesday's election results were. 😎

In lieu of that, however, I just wanted to share this fabulous photo of our late great pussycat The Incomparable Eddie© (taken five years ago).

Let's just say I know who he would have pulled the levers for last Tuesday. 😎😎

But now to the weekend's business. To wit:

...and the most disappointing performance by a pop/rock/soul/folk/country solo artist or group that you ever personally witnessed live was...?

For me, this one isn't even close. Ladies and germs, I give you The Rolling Stones famous (infamous?) 1975 flat-bed truck rendition of "Brown Sugar."

In case I haven't told the story about that before, the short version is that yours truly (then toiling at Stereo Review) plus pretty much everybody else I knew in the rock press and PR biz were invited (via Stones managment and Atlantic Records) to a noon-ish Rolling Stones press conference at a Fifth Avenue eatery in Greenwich Village; we were assured that finger food and drinks would be provided and that the boys in the band would answer our questions about their up coming summer tour.

When we got to the joint, Mick and company were nowhere to be seen, which didn't help anybody's bad mood about having to fight the traffic coming down from mid-town. But the late great absurdist comedian Professor Irwin Corey was there, and with a microphone. Given that he was professionally billed as "The World's Foremost Authority," this seemed appropriate, and so while me and the assembled freeloaders scarfed down wine and mediocre hors d'ouevres, Corey rambled on about I forget what for about half an hour. Not surprisingly, I sensed a certain impatience in the crowd, and then the cry went up -- The Stones!!!

Yup. We could see through the restuarant's front window that the band was rolling down Fifth Avenue, so we all -- I'd estimate there were about 300 of us, not counting amused passerbys -- made a dash out to the sidewalk.

At which point, the band -- I recall it was drizzly and cold -- knocked out a half-assed version of their big hit and then unceremoniously drove away. Leaving us all to return to our respective offices and tell our co-workers and friends that we had a) seen the Stones up close and personal and b) been suckered.

In any case, I would like to re-emphasize just how mediocre the band's performance was; in all seriousness, I relisten to that clip above every couple of years on the off-chance that it might sound better for some reason. And it never does.

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choice or choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Okay, So Who Amongst Us Hasn't Dated a Blind She-Worm at Some Point?

From either the late 20th or early 21st century (I haven't been able to pin it down, sorry), please enjoy the pride of Mexico City La Gusana Ciega -- the name translates as "The Blind She-Worm"(!) -- and their South of the Border smash hit ode to the lovely "Ella Estrella."

Apart from that being a great piece of jangly guitar pop and a fabulously polysexual video -- those guys are just so freaking cool I can't even stand it. Those guitars...those suits...those haircuts. I mean, they look like an '80s skinny-tie band gone to seed. 😎

Attentive readers, of course, will recall that my alternate watering hole here in Forest Hills, Queens -- a/k/a the Paris of the Northeast -- is a wonderful Mexican joint called MAS TORTILLA, and that from time to time they play el rock en español, rather than more traditional contemporary Latin pop, on their sound system. As a result, I've discovered some pretty amazing bands and songs of late; you can check out pretty much my favorite -- Maná, a/k/a the Police of Mexico, and "Stuck in a Bar" -- over HERE.

Anent those sightless lady wigglers, they have an official website apparently, but it seems there's technical issues with it at the moment. If you want to know more about them you can, however, check out their Facebook page por aquí.

Today's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

Heh. 😎

And hah. 😎😎

Coming tomorrow -- a song and video actually having some connection to the raison d'etre of this here blog. Hint: ¿Cómo se dice “It'll blow your mind" en español?

Poppin' the Cherry Part II: The Bowery Boys (And Girls) Meet The Hounds

Okay, words pretty much fail me, ladies and germs, but I am not making this up: The Hounds, i.e. the 70s pop/rock band I toiled with for many years....

...have a song on a new 4 CD box set from Cherry Red Records, aka the World's Coolest Label.

From the promo material:

In December 1973 Hilly Kristal changed the name of his roots music bar from Hilly’s on the Bowery to CBGB and altered his musical policy to hire mostly rock bands. He was indifferent to many of them (“No one is going to like you guys, but I’ll have you back,” he told Joey Ramone), blissfully unaware of how important his scruffy little club would soon become.

In the span of only 15 months, the five groups that comprise the CBGB’s pantheon all debuted: Television in March 1974, followed by Ramones in August and Blondie in October, then Patti Smith in February 1975 and Talking Heads four months later.

Those five groups all quickly got record deals and became popular enough to outgrow CBGB’s. By the fall of 1977, Smith was the only one who was still playing there. What succeeded the Big Five was an array of new and retro styles, all of which feature here: No Wave (Sonic Youth, Mars, DNA, Bush Tetras), post-punk (Ritual Tension, Unknown Gender, Khmer Rouge), mutant funk and R&B (James Chance & The Contortions, Mink DeVille), art-rock bands (R.L. Crutchfield’s Dark Day, The Revelons, Erasers, Jeff and Jane Hudson) hardcore punk (Minor Threat, Bad Brains, Vatican Commandos, Beastie Boys), and lots of power pop (Sorrows, The dBs, The Rudies, The Miamis, The Paley Brothers) .

The club’s best-known bands are present on this compilation but we’ve also revived interest in dozens of unfairly forgotten acts that, for a moment in time, made an album, EP, 45, or even a demo that crackled with innovation, wit, and joy.

CBGB no longer exists, at least not in the physical plane, but what happened between those soot-filled, beer-stinking walls continues to reverberate around the world.

We're on disc one, between The Dictators and The Dead Boys.

The box set features over 100 songs, neatly alternating (as you will have gleaned from the above) between hits and deep cuts from a myriad of well known/stylistically varied NYC stalwarts (Patti Smith AND James Blood Ulmer) along with obscure not-even-cult-figures like us.

You can peruse the complete track listing -- and pre-order the thing, which will be available starting January 30th -- over at the Cherry Red website HERE.

I'm told there will be a booklet with extensive liner notes by ace rock critic Rob Tannenbaum and lotsa cool photos (I wrote the brief Hounds bio entry, and I'm informed that Rob quotes from an old Stereo Review column of mine when talking about Stuart's Hammer). I want to emphasize again, delightedly, that along with the scene's heavy hitters, like the ones previously mentioned, the set also includes lotsa stuff by unfairly forgotten weirdos, including a group I never got to see who had my favorite band name ever -- Chemicals Made From Dirt. 😎

Bottom line, I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. I mean -- first The Floor Models are on Cherry Red, and now The Hounds?

Oh, and because I love you all more than food, here's the song in question, which we released on our own P.O.J. label -- in stereo, the first non-mono disc by an indie NYC band -- back in 1976.

I'll keep you guys posted on new details about the set -- like if it's gonna be available for streaming at any point -- as they develop.

I'll also share a couple of hopefully amusing Hounds stories -- including our CBGBs debut, opening for a nascent international superstar -- when the set comes out next year.

Alone Again (Digitally)

From his about to be released (November 14th) new album, please enjoy long time musical hero of mine Steve Boyd (with his band The Loners) and his thought-provoking and melodically insinuating "When the West Was Won."

I'm not kidding about that hero thing; as attentive readers are doubtless aware, Boyd was/is the once-and-future(?) bass player of the incredible White Animals...

...a Nashville band who absolutely ruled the college alt-rock/frat party scene down South in the 80s, and who made amazing albums that -- for reasons that remain mysterious -- somehow never garnered them the national attention they so richly deserved. I've written about them on numerous occasions over the years, so rather than rehash the details I'll simply direct you to this pertinent LINK; let me just say, however, that the Animals -- for whom Boyd was one of two principal songwriters -- were one of the most astounding live acts of their day, and that any band who stared the stage with them (and I know this from personal experience) did so at their peril.

In any event, King of the Loners -- which leans more towards Americana and classic rock than the pop/punk/dub reggae fusion pioneered by the Animals -- features thirteen fab new songs exploring the themes of personal freedon, loss resilience and reinvention. Adding to the fun, the great Will Kimbrough, of Bis-Quits fame, also contibutes characteristically memorable guitar stuff on a couple of songs, which is otherwise essentially a one-man show.

I should add that if you happen to be in Nashville this coming Saturday (Nov. 8), you won't, alas, be able to see Boyd with the Animals at their sold out farewell show at the legendary Exit/In. But I'll be there -- in spirit -- and I'll tell the guys hello for you. 😎

I should also add that the album will be available on iTunes, Spotify, and all other major streaming platforms, so get over there pronto starting a week from Friday!!! 😎😎

Weekend Listomania: Special "Got Live If You Want It -- Or Even If You Don't!" Edition

[I first posted a sort-of version of this -- well, it was actually a lot more serious, but still -- back in 2008 (yipes). I've completely rejiggered and rewritten it (only one of the albums below appeared on the original list) and have in general tried to compensate for my recent slacker act in these precincts. Enjoy! -- S.S.]

Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Eurasian fille de joie Fah lo Suee and I are off to scenic Mar-a-Lago for a fin-de-la-semaine ballroom fete featuring what's being billed as "la première lecture dramatique" of Les Dossiers Epstein.

Not sure what that means, but it sounds very existential, so just in case I'm having my beret re-blocked.

In any case, posting by moi will necessarily be sporadic for a few days.

But in my absence, here's a fun project for you all to contemplate:

MOST OVER-RATED OR UNDER-RATED LIVE ALBUM BY A POST-ELVIS POP/ROCK/FOLK/SOUL/COUNTRY GROUP OR SOLO ARTIST!!!

No arbitrary rules whatsoever, for obvious reasons.

And my totally Top of My Head Top Six, in both categories, are:

6. Peter Frampton -- Frampton Comes Alive!

As Mike Meyers says in Waynes World 2:

"Exqueese me? Have I seen this one before? 'Frampton Comes Alive'? Everybody in the world has 'Frampton Comes Alive.' If you lived in the suburbs you were issued it. It came in the mail with samples of "Tide".

5. Marshall Chapman -- It's About Time...

C'mon -- singing "Jailhouse Rock" to an audience of inmates at a women's prison? Conceptual masterstrokes don't come any neater.

4. Ritchie Valens -- In Concert at Pacoima Jr. High School

At his Alma Mater, not long before the plane crash. Primitively recorded, but a heart as big as all outdoors.

3. The Band -- The Last Waltz

Sorry -- any live album featuring Neil Diamond is by definition unfit for man nor beast.

2. Television -- Live at the Old Waldorf

I'd forgotten just how spine-tingling that is. Seriously -- two guitars, bass and drums just don't get any cooler-sounding.

And the all-time underrated live album is...

1. The Floor Models -- Floor by Four: Live at JPs in 1982

What -- you didn't see that coming? 😎

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Michael Antunes 1940-2025

Okay, I'm one of those weirdos who thought that the original Eddie and the Cruisers film -- and the Beaver Brown Band, the real-life guys (Antunes, briefly glimpsed in the clip below, was their sax player) who provided the music -- were actually pretty good.

On the other hand, much of that is down to the fact that I had, and continue to have, a huge crush on the film's delightful female lead Ellen Barkin.

I should add that "We ain't great, we're just some guys from Jersey" -- as uttered in a climactic scene by co-star Matthew Laurence -- is perhaps my favorite line of dialogue in any movie ever. 😎

Havve I mentioned that this death shit is really starting to piss me off?

Today's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

I think we've all been there for the Deadhead scare. 😎

"Swing, Baby -- You're Platinum!"

From SNL in 1991, please enjoy the late great Phil Hartman as he hosts the Sunday morning panel show I only wish had actually existed -- The Sinatra Group!!!

I've referenced the joke in today's title on a couple of occasions in the past -- most recently in yesterday's musings on the new Springsteen movie -- but you could have knocked me over with a feather when I did the research and discovered I'd never actually posted the sketch itself.

Which is only a) one of the funniest SNL bits of all time and b) perhaps the most hilarious parody of pop-star pretentions ever witnessed by sentient mammalians anywhere.

We should add that it gets special bonus points for 1) Hartman/Sinatra intro-ing Sinead O'Connor as Uncle Fester and 2) Sting's impression of Billy Idol's snarl.

Cinematic Notes From All Over: Special "It Came From Jersey" Edition

So I saw Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere yesterday afternoon.

Long-time readers will recall that I have never been a fan of the Nebraska album, the making of which the film is theoretically based upon. For those who've come in late, BTW, here's the review I wrote when it was new (December 1982) for the sadly departed Stereo Review.

When times get tough, someone once observed, entertainment gets sloppy, but in the case of Bruce Springsteen, the once and future Bard of Asbury Park, New Jersey, we may have to amend that; when times get tough, entertainment gets grim. At least that's one implication to be derived from Nebraska, Springsteen's new all-acoustic -- dare I say it? -- folk music album. Another is that the record business is in even worse shape than I thought. Since the production costs of what sounds like the bleakest record of the year must have been next to nothing (Springsteen recorded it at home on a four-track Teac cassette deck), you might think Columbia would give us a break and sell it at a really reduced price -- like about two bucks. No such luck.

That's a pretty cynical thing to say about a Bruce Springsteen album, Springsteen being the one mainstream rock star who maintains a genuine give-and-take relationship with his audience, but I'm afraid Nebraska inspires cynicism. It sounds like it was written for critics rather than people. I'm not suggesting a sellout; in a lot of ways a release like this is a very gutsy career move, and I don't doubt that the ten songs on it are as sincerely, deeply felt as anything Springsteen has ever done. In some ways, actually, it's weirdly appropriate that he should mutate, however briefly, into a latter-day Woody Guthrie. CBS originally signed him as a folk singer, things are pretty depressing out there, and somebody's got to do it, I suppose. It's just that most of Nebraska is, well, boring.

I can't fault the stories Springsteen tells here. He seems to have aimed for a sort of contemporary working-class, factory-town equivalent of The Grapes of Wrath, and mostly he's succeeded. As vignettes they're wonderful; one in particular -- "Highway Patrolman" -- is going to make a heck of a movie someday. [It did. Sean Penn filmed it as The Indian Runner in 1991.--S.S.] But musically...my God. The tunes are less than minimalist, the tempos are uniformly dirgelike, and hardly a ray of sunlight breaks through the overpowering miasma of fatalism and gloom. The effect is to trivialize the stories. It's impossible to care about the lives of the people being chronicled when the music is so resolutely leaden.

I suspect that this is not due so much to a lack of inspiration as it is to deliberate calculation. Springsteen has been headed in this direction for some time now. A lot of Darkness on the Edge of Town was all but unlistenable for the same reasons, and in places The River was even worse, the stark dramas inflated to operatic pretentiousness and unintentional self-parody. Nebraska, with its self-conscious underproduction, achieves the same sad result from the opposite direction. Springsteen must know better -- just listen to the material he gives away to other artists. Heck, his "Out of Work," on the recent Gary U.S. Bonds album, says far more about blue-collar aspirations than anything on Nebraska, and it's also tuneful, danceable and fun.

But Springsteen seems to think that fun is beneath him now. As much as it pains me to say it, I think what we have here is a classic case of a "primitive" artist corrupted by "intellectuals" (well, ex-rock writers, like his producer Jon Landau and official biographer Dave Marsh). How else to explain Springsteen's apparent compulsion to make the Big Statement every time out, the references to film directors -- here it's Terence Malick (Badlands) in the title song -- and the hectoring preachiness of so much of his recent output? Nebraska, its offhand simplicity notwithstanding, is an ambitious work, and, given the thoroughly decadent state of contemporary pop music, it merits respect if only because it aims high. But the fact is, it misses -- by a big margin -- and the reasons suggest that its author has worked himself into what may be an artistic cul-de-sac. Let's hope I'm wrong. -- Steve Simels

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: Nebraska. Bruce Springsteen (vocals, guitar, harmonica). COLUMBIA TC 38358

Okay -- so what did I think now that I've experienced the film?

Here's the short version, by the numbers.

!. Jeremy Allen White as Springsteen is utterly brilliant. I completely believed he WAS Bruce throughout the whole thing, including the musical stuff. Also: The Jersey Shore milieu feels totally authentic, both visually and culturally.

2. Former CBS exec Jimmy Iovine is hilarious in a cameo as himself. Aussie actress Odessa Young is also touching and wildly sexy in the role of a woman who does not seem to have actually existed in Bruce's real life.

3. The film is NOT in point of fact about the making of the Nebraska album, i.e. Bruce's creative process at the time or his battles with the philistine corporate types who wanted lots of hit singles rather than a larger/grim artistic statement. It is, instead, about the deep personal hurt of an oh-so-sensitive and wildly successful young guy who's having emotional problems stemming from a moderately abusive father. Which, frankly, is a lot more cliched and uninteresting than I was hoping.

4. For most of the film, all I could think about was the great old SNL bit where Phil Hartman played Frank Sinatra hosting a panel of spoiled pop stars. In which he castigated Jan Hooks, as a pretentious and unsympathetic Sinead O'Connor, with the classic line "Swing baby -- you're platinum!!!"

5. I have no desire to see Deliver Me From Nowhere again ever.

You're welcome very much. 😎