The great RB Korbet posted the video below on Facebook the other day, and it dates back a few months, but I figured it was well worth sharing here.
Regular readers here might remember a couple of posts I dedicated to the band Lubricated Goat here back in 2016 and 2019. In a nutshell, the band – led by the inimitable Stu Spasm – were Aussie ex-pats and NYC contemporaries of favorites of mine like Cop Shoot Cop and Foetus, even sharing members from personnel of both endeavors here and there over the years. As mentioned in this recent post, meanwhile, after a comparatively brief stint in a band called Crunt in the `90s with his then-wife Kat Bjelland of Babes in Toyland and, following that, another iteration of Lubricated Goat in the early 2000s, Stu – who now trades under the nom de guerre Art Gray -- has since channeled his musical impulses into an outfit called the Art Gray Noizz Quintet, featuring “Bloody” Rich Hutchins of Live Skull on drums and Ryan Skeltonboy of the band Woman on bass. They make a glorious racket, but seem to only release their music on vinyl and …er… cassette. Check out their site here, and their YouTube channel here.
Suffice to say, however, Art Gray’s musical oeuvre enjoys the adoration of an audience that can be best described as niche. Coupled with the crippling compromises put on touring musicians by the pandemic – let alone the artist-hostile, streaming-dominated music business of today – Art has sought out other ways to make ends meet. Boasting a distinctive aesthetic and keen eye, Stu/Art had always handed the design aspects for his musical projects and has since embraced studio art.
Just a quick one. Now that the holidays are upon us, I thought I'd evangelize some pertinent links, should you be on the hunt for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/whatever presents for the little n'erdowells in your own family.
I realize I said I wasn’t going to post again until Thanksgiving, but I just spotted this, so thought I’d quickly share it.
Back in 2019, some might remember a quick entry about a long-lost concern called The Pit, which was — if my memory correctly served — a tiny boutique that sold gear for biker types. If you were in the market for leather duds, a black t-shirt with a skull on it or some ominous sartorial invocation of the superiority of Harley-Davidson motorcycles, the Pit had you covered. My memory of it was triggered by some photographs of one of my favorite bands, the Sisters of Mercy, sporting some finery they’d evidently procured at the Pit.
Well, as it happens, the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation has a photo of the Pit during its tenure on St. Marks Place. See it below, and read more about the photo right here.
Today, the spot that had been The Pit is, I believe, now a Chinese noodle shop.
Hey all. It’s the week of Thanksgiving, and life is busy, busy, busy. We’re doing college application stuff with my daughter, work is fairly demanding right now and I’ve got some medical issues I’m trying to nip in the bud, so to speak, before the looming Christmas holidays. I probably won’t have much else to post here prior to Thanksgiving, so I thought I share these two items and wish you a happy Turkey Day.
The first is the flyer above, which I believe dates back to this date in 1982. The mighty Bad Brains played at CBGB a ton of times in 1982 — some of its famously on video, but not this show, as far as I could glean. In November of 1982, I would have been a sophomore in high school — the same age my son is now. I was not, however, at this show. While I was certainly aware of Bad Brains, by this stage, I would not have been in a position to be venturing down to the Bowery during Thanksgiving week, although I know I couple of folks who were probably there.
The video below, meanwhile, is not from the show in question. This is some genuinely amazing footage from 1979 that looks to have only been uploaded as recently as this past October, and it’s really a striking document of the band’s earlier incarnation. The crowd is comparatively sedate -- more "pogo" than "pit," but you can see where Bad Brains were headed.
Please enjoy and remember not to spar with your relatives about politics, this Thanksgiving. It’s simply not worth it. Stay safe, smart, healthy and keep that Positive Mental Attitude, as Bad Brains would say.
ADDENDUM: Right after I posted this entry, I emailed it over to my friend Glen E. Friedman, who'd recently discovered that ancient Minor Threat video. As if by fate, I ended up once again running into Glen the next day on University Place, and we did our usual chinwag wherein both of us start multiple narratives and rarely finish any of them. In any case, in the course of discussing this Bad Brains video, he mentioned that he'd recently put one of his own photos of Bad Brains up for sale in a limited run on high quality paper. If you're familiar with Glen's work at all, you know he very rarely does this sort of thing. In any event, if you're interested in buying one, details and ordering information can be found right here.
A hard band to explain to the uninitiated for a rich variety of reasons, Turbonego was (and remains) a so-called “deathpunk” ensemble from Oslo driven by razor-sharp satire and a tireless dedication to flaunting the mores of political correctness at every conceivable juncture. While certainly not the first nor even the most notorious band to take this perilous tack, these Norwegians truly excelled at courting outrage and controversy at every turn, although song titles like “Hobbit Motherfuckers,” “Blow Me (Like The Wind)” and — wait for it — “Midnight NAMBLA” ought to have tipped off even the most po-faced of listeners that they weren’t entirely serious. But, y’know, humor is ultimately subjective, I guess.
I was first introduced to Turbonegro — allegedly thus-named to imply “very fast” and “jet black,” and not a racial allusion in any capacity, but do have fun trying to defend that — by way of my friend Dean. Dean boldly asserted, one beery evening, that the band’s fourth album, 1998’s Apocalypse Dudes was one of his favorite albums of all time. Given Dean’s encyclopedic knowledge and appreciation of rock music in all its permutations, this was not an anemic endorsement, and I dutifully picked up a copy of the record to experience it for myself.
Indeed, with even a cursory spin of Apocalypse Dudes, it was quite evident that beyond the band’s pointedly provocative prurience, the music itself was just this incredible amalgam of the best elements of glam, punk, metal and thrash, all deceptively executed with some stylish chops behind all the campy sailor outfits, black leather and smeared lipstick. While Turbonegro’s shtick was an inexorable ingredient to their whole aesthetic, the tunes were undeniable. If I’m doing a crap job of explaining this, I’ll defer to Brandon Stosuy’s summation of their early records for Pitchfork from 2003. While very much not for everyone, Turbonegro could deliver the goods.
On Friday, sad news arrived that former vocalist Hank Von Helvete (aka Hank Von Hell) had passed away at the age of 49. The voice of those early Turbonegro records like Ass Cobra, Scandinavian Leather and Apocalypse Dudes, Hank had a history of depression and addiction, as detailed in the band documentary ResErection. A cause of death was not disclosed.
Below is my favorite track of theirs with Hank on vocals. The video is, of course, age-restricted and very much not for everyone, but it amply showcases what a fucking great band they were. Pour one out.
It’s almost hard to fathom the sheer volume of Mick Rock’s work. From Syd to Lou to Bowie to Iggy to Debbie to Queen to The Ramones … His images have become very literally iconic, transforming (pardon the pun) the photographer into just as significant an artist as the storied subjects he captured and immortalized.
Just a quick plug. I was tremendously blown away, yesterday, to receive my copy of filmmaker/archivist/musician Drew Stone's excellent new book, “The New York Hardcore Chronicles Vol. 1 (1989 - 1989): A Flyer Oral History.” I've invoked Drew several times here before (notably here, here, here and here, among others) but he gamely asked me, some time back, to pen a piece for this project, and I am truly honored to see my contribution so prominently placed as the forward to the book. While probably a niche concern to most, this book is a genuine labor of love and a crucial document for any fan of New York City's rich and vibrant history of underground music and culture. I was thrilled to be a small part of it.
Yes, I know we’re still only halfway through November, but let’s face it --- by and large, 2021 is over. I mean, sure, maybe I’ll post something in the next month and a half that I really like, but who knows? One can’t count on these things.
The following is a list of posts from the last eleven months that I really liked putting together. It’s not that they’re necessarily the best-written or the most viewed or the most-commented on (not really that informative a metric here, alas). They’re just the ones that I enjoyed researching and was pleased with how they turned out. Results may vary and you may beg to differ, but this is my list. Feel free to make your own.
Just a quick one. My friend EV Grieve just recently reported that the Patagonia outlet at 315 Bowery has decamped and shuttered. Prior to being a Patagonia, of course, that space was fleetingly a spot for the Morrison Hotel Gallery (they sell pricey rock photos) and, of course, before that it was CBGB’s 313 Gallery and, further back, it was CBGB’s Record Canteen.
It’s all, of course, ancient history, now, but I remember seeing a number of acts at 313, over the years. The space arguably lacked the atmosphere of its more storied namesake to the north, but it was still a cool spot. If memory serves, the very last band I saw perform in the 313 space was Paul Wallfisch’s Botanica.
Here’s a very early incarnation of The Unsane raising an unholy ruckus within the confines of 313 circa 1989.
Hey all. Sorry for the slowdown, but it's been a busy few days. Also just got my booster shot on Friday. Saturday was summarily foggy and with a sorer arm than before, but today I'm as right as rain.
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