Thursday, October 30, 2014

The Tooth of Crime

Ian McLagan -- keyboard genius of The Small Faces/Faces and much much else -- takes a bite out of a CD featuring a bassist whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels.

Words, as they fucking say, fail me.

[h/t Phil Cheese]

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Closed for Drug Abuse Monkey Business

All that instrumental jam shit of the last couple of days has really knocked the stuffing out of me.

Regular non-psychedelic posting resumes tomorrow, including -- unless I'm high -- a Weekend Listomania's Greatest Hits installment on Friday.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

And Speaking of Headache-Inducing Self-Indulgent Jams By Great Bands Who Should Have Known Better... we were YESTERDAY...

...from the Avalon Ballroom in 1966, please enjoy the otherwise fucking amazingly great Moby Grape and their improvised on the spot masterpiece overly-long inducer of psychedelic ennui "Dark Magic."

17 minutes long, I might add. Anybody seriously think the light show really enhanced the experience?

In any case, Television's instro-rock show last weekend sounded far too much like this. Minus the vocals, obviously.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Hey, If I Want to See an Instro Band, I'll Buy Tickets for the Raybeats or the Budapest String Quartet

So this weekend, a certain Shady Dame and I were privileged to attend a show -- at New York University's exemplary new auditorium at the Skirball Center for the Performing Arts -- by the legendary Teletubbies. In front of the newly back in action Joshua Light Show.

I must say, the band looked good for their age.

[Left to right: Fred Smith, Tom Verlaine, Billy Ficca and Jimmy Rip]

Okay, actually, we went to see the legendary Television at said venue with the JLS, and since I really hadn't ever seen the band at their peak, I was pretty stoked. Which lasted for about five minutes after the show started; beyond that, not so much.

The reason: Television did not perform a single song from any of their three original studio albums. In fact they did no "songs" per se whatsoever -- the show was completely instrumental-jams-only (I think I recognized one number from Verlaine's early 90s instrumental set Warm and Cool, but I'm not sure).

What was it like? Well, some of the playing was brilliant (no surprise there), and I respect them for trying something a little different. And if the idea was to recreate the experience of hearing a second-tier San Francisco ballroom psychedelic band at one of the Fillmores in 1967 (sans the pungent aroma of marijuana, of course) then the show was a complete success. Unfortunately, I've got old Moby Grape live bootlegs from that period whose free-form, made up on the spot, instrumentals sound pretty much the same as Television did last Saturday night. And the Grape's jams are just as enervating without drugs.

I for one, however found the whole experience somewhere between intensely headache inducing and a really unethical bait and switch.

Very, very disappointing.

UPDATE: A certain Shady Dame reminds me that Television opened the show with a little bit of noodling on the riff of "1880 or So" (from the third studio album); I regret the error. Also, in the interests of total accuracy, I should add that they DID encore with "Little Johnny Jewel," albeit without vocals, but technically that song was a single rather than an album track.

Friday, October 24, 2014

The Greatest Thing Ever

From 1975. Bon Scott and AC/DC.

I am not kidding about this. Seriously. This is the greatest thing in the history of recorded human things.

[h/t Samael]

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Your Thursday Moment of Holy Fucking Shit

Forty years after we couldn't get arrested -- let alone get a record deal -- the fabulous Floor Models (featuring a bass player whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels)... played on the radio. Last Sunday, in fact.

Courtesy of living saint/deejay Jim Monaghan. Formerly of the late lamented WNEW-FM, and now the morning guy on The Rock of New Jersey...

...which streams in real time HERE, BTW.

Jim played our live cover of The Records/Searchers classic "Hearts in Her Eyes," in between The Jags' "Back of My Hand" and "Another Nail For My Heart" by Squeeze.

Words fail me. But if you're of a mind, go over to the website of ZERO HOUR RECORDS, Australia's leading music-delivery system, and order a copy of the album. Now!

Oh, and here's the track in question.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Sisyphus in Hackensack, New Jersey

Had a lot of fun on my birthday...

...and I'm paying for it this morning.

Regular posting resumes tomorrow, cross my barely functional heart.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014


Taking the day off as a result, bitches!!!

Then I'm taking myself out to dinner tonight -- at the piss elegant Italian restaurant up the street -- and crashing after pitchers and pitchers of adult beverages.

Shit, I'm gonna be really old today -- you think I'm PLEASED about this?

Anyway, regular non-insane posting resumes tomorrow.

If I fucking feel like it.

Monday, October 20, 2014

A Staggering Work of Heartbreaking Genius

[This comment, by reader Penny Podium, appeared, mysteriously, over the weekend on my Friday Paul Revere and the Raiders thread; I reprint it here, verbatim, in case you missed it. And for obvious reasons, if you know what I mean. -- S.S.]

I agree, Steve. Paul Revere and the band are the absolute best. Paul Simon said that every generation throws a hero up the pop charts. Why not throw up on the 1960s?

Back in 1978 I was tooling around in Malibu with Sean Tyla, who at the time was seeing a sorority sister of mine, Royelle, a sharpie I called Roy, for Roy Rogers, because she was always hot on the Trigger, when Sean introduced me to Deke Leonard, then on one of his Iceberg tours. Deke, whose real name is Roger, and whose friends called him Lil, but everyone knew him as Nanu Nanu, because of his fondness for Pam Dawber, showed me a test pressing copy of the Paul Revere’s Country Wine album, signed by Paul and Mark and the rest of the band, which I offered to buy from Deke for 6 ounces of high-quality Hawaiian dooba-dooba. While we were negotiating we wandered over to the Sandcastle, a bar run by Randy California’s uncle, Randy Wolfe, where we proceeded to drink ourselves under the table, and where Deke confessed to me his undying love (Oh, Deke, you rascal!), and that his former band, Man, consisted of hash eating interstellar travelers from the Ford Galaxy.

I left Deke under the table, which was a fabulous laminated teak number with mother-of-pearl inserts that matched the earrings worn by an old roommate of mine, Debbie, who you Steve may know from a number of big budget action based soft porn musicals from the 70s (you may recall Debbie Does Gershwin), and who acted under the name Dubbie, which she pronounced Debbie, but others thought was spoken as Dubby. Debbie and I had a routine where we would go to any one of a number of Malibu bars, including my favorite among them, The Hangout, where I would often find Darryl Hickman, Dwayne’s brother, and where I would refer to Debbie as Dubbie, and she would then purse her lips, cross her arms beneath her breasts, put one leg up over her head in an Durvasanana yoga pose, and then angrily correct my pronunciation of her name ….. while I walked around whichever bar we were in and picked the pockets of male patrons while Debbie, who possessed the best legs this side of the Colorado, held the attention of everyone in the bar, as well as her pose, for however long it took to pick up a few hundred bucks of partying cash.

Oh ….. such sweet times! We were soooooooo hungry for those good times!

Brian Wilson, you’re my real God! And God Only Knows Why!

-- Penny Podium

Attending the Coppertone Regatta in Santa Barbara, named after the early Eastern Orthodox martyr, Barbara, who lived in third century Nicomedia. Known lovingly as the patron saint of sailing, she was one sexy martyr, and my type of gal.

Just Like Me by Paul Revere and the Raiders

Just Like Me by Paramour

Just Like Me by Jamie Foxx

A Girl Like Me by Rihanna

God Gave Rock and Roll To Me by Kiss

Old Man River Me by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein

Old Man by Neil Young and Oscar Hammerstein

Where Is My Man by Eartha Kitt

Any Man Can Be A Fool by Rare Eartha Kitt

10/18/2014 3:13 PM

I should add that the charmingly yclept Ms. Podium's name-checking of C-list rock star shlubs Sean Tyla...

...and Deke Leonard...

...just may be the cream of the jest.

Friday, October 17, 2014

"The Second Best Thing in the World"

And speaking, as we were last week, of Paul Revere and the Raiders, here's today's essay question:

1. Listen to these two Raiders tracks -- the first (the venerable "Money") recorded live, and the second their (self-penned) finest hour in the studio (in an amazing stereo remix).

Some people do not agree with the proposition that the Raiders, at their peak, were one of the absolute best American rock bands of the 1960s. Are those people large idiots, or what?