Flaming Pablum

Saturday Morning Pics Fix

Apologies if you've seen some of these before. These are all from 1997.

Happy Friday

It's a long overdue Friday, so what better way to celebrate than by watching Nick Cave get riotously sweary on British TV? Crank it.

Who is Surprised?

News broke yesterday that the New York Post ran a semi-apology for Sean Delonas' latest cartoon that basically compared President Obama to the rampaging chimp from earlier in the week ("They'll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill"). My question is this: Who is surprised? Sean Delonas is a hateful, intolerant, homophobic, racist, jackbooted conservative who has been penning deliberately inflammatory cartoons for years. Hasn't anyone been paying attention? This is just what he does! Delonas plays upon every hateful stereotype, panders to the slack-jawed lowest common denominator and veils his hatred under the flimsy guise of 'parody.' For example, when Kurt Cobain shot himself, Delonas drew a cartoon that depicted him arriving in Hell. Classy, eh?

Stop reading the Post.

It's Gone & It Ain't Comin' Back

I wasn't going to post anything about this, being that I've largely beaten it to death already (I'd link to my older posts on this subject, but I can't be bothered), but earlier this week there came news that the actual, physical, ornately carved bar from the Cedar Tavern has been sold to some interest down in Austin, Texas. Yesterday, Curbed offered a glimpse into the – to my mind – kinda underwhelming (yet still wicked expensive) apartments inside the eyesore of a building that now occupies the Cedar's footprint.

Ya Can't Make This Stuff Up

We ran a bit of content this afternoon over at The Job that involved a chorus line of dancing 'Star Wars' droids, specifically, a gaggle of miniature replicas of R2-D2. Speculation summarily ensued as to whether the storied little robot's name should include a hyphen. Copy editor Jeff did a bit of research and confirmed our suspicion. He gleaned this valuable information not only from Wikipedia, but also from what we immediately bookmarked as an invaluable source of pertinent information --- Wookiepedia. You're welcome!

Blog The Noise

Believe it or not, I was once fleetingly considered responsible enough to sit on a co-operative board. I know, I know… it's terrifying, but in 1996, shortly after moving into a stately old building on East 12th street, I gullibly accepted an offer to serve on the co-op board, swiftly becoming one of only a handful of voices elected to vote yea or nay on a host of building matters. I kept the minutes, organized meetings, liaised with management, gave presentations at annual conferences – the whole nine. At the time, I rationalized that while it was a pain in the ass, it was a practical thing to do and a good way to keep track of how my money was being spent.

Probably the most enjoyable part of being on the board, however, was the process of screening and interviewing potential new occupants of the building (or, more correctly, shareholders in the co-op). I knew I'd agonized over my interview, so it was always interesting being on the other side of the table. In any case, I remember opening a board package one day, and the name of the hopeful buyer on the documents was none other than one Glen E. Friedman.

For those who may not recognize the name, Glen is a celebrated photographer who cut his teeth documenting the then-burgeoning skateboard culture of the late 1970s (a story later told in the brilliant documentary, "Dogtown & Z-Boys"). Glen also managed to capture the forefront of American hardcore punk and hip-hop, and his iconic images have become entirely synonymous with both genres (his self-published `zine My Rules served as a veritable who's-who of crucial American Punk bands of the early 80s) . In a very simple nutshell, rarely has someone managed to be around for the inception of so much cool stuff so frequently. If you're still not convinced, consider that Glen's images grace such celebrated sleeves as both Yo! Bum Rush the Show and It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold us Back by Public Enemy, Check Your Head by the Beastie Boys, the first Suicidal Tendencies album, the Salad Days e.p. by Minor Threat, Golden Shower of Hits by the Circle Jerks, Repeater by Fugazi and countless others.

So, anyway, being a big music geek, I was not only aware of Glen but also avidly in awe of his work. I'd actually seen him walking around the neighborhood before, but had never accosted him as he often looked, well, kinda pissed off. When we brought him in for the interview, he turned out to be cool, chatty, relaxed and made a sterling impression. Being a man of fierce conviction with scrupulous attention to detail, he seemed like he'd be a model shareholder. At the close of the interview, I broke ranks and whipped out my copy of his first celebrated anthology of images, Fuck You Heroes and asked for an autograph (much the chagrin of my fellow board members). Not that he needed my help, but I lobbied hard to get Glen accepted into the building. Sure enough, Glen E. Friedman soon moved into an apartment down my hall.

As expected, Glen proved to be the consummate neighbor (he even took my place on the co-op board when I moved out in 2002). He also quickly became a good friend and we've stayed in touch ever since. In any case, this needlessly lengthy and shamelessly namedroppy history lesson does have a point. If you are a fan of Glen's work, you'll be psyched to learn that he's just recently launched his own weblog, and you can check it out by clicking right here.

Incidentally, I'd like to apologize to Public Enemy for the strenuously lame title of this post (weakly appropriating their signature anthem "Bring The Noise). It coulda been worse, though. I might have gone with Bloggers Gonna Work It Out, Fear of a Blog Planet or Blog Steel in the Hour of Chaos.

Hidden History

Here's yet another item I'm swiping from Rachel, but I thought it was well worth a look. Click here to see some images from photographer Justin Cooper's collection of pictures from the American Museum of Natural History's scientific collections. Like many of my fellow native Manhattanites, I practically grew up inside this museum and can still find my way around it with my eyes closed. I'm happy to report that my own children are similarly intrigued by it. I've always wondered what other bizarre treasures lay waiting in the vast building's hidden chambers and massive lower catacombs. This gallery offers a tantalizing glimpse.

More Old Photos

Mars Bar

TITLE: "Mars Bar"

ARTIST: The Undertones 

ALBUM: The Undertones 

RELEASE DATE: 1979

Last week, a colleague asked what I thought the quintessential, classic Punk Rock single of all-time was. I responded immediately with "(I'm) Stranded" by The Saints because .... well .... as far as I'm concerned, it is. There's just no arguing with Ed Kuepper's wall of furious guitars on that track. As much as adore da brudders, this song manages to out-Ramone the Ramones. Of course, being the fatuous geek that I am, I then felt urgently compelled to cite the inevitable "runners-up," including tunes like "Blank Generation" by Richard Hell & the Voidoids, "Boredom" by Buzzcocks and "Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment" by the afore-mentioned Ramones. But I still think "(I'm) Stranded" trumps them all. You, of course, may beg to differ.

Long after that conversation, my brain kept cranking out other great singles worthy of a mention. While so much is made of the contributions from the go-to bands like the Sex Pistols and The Clash (and justifiably so), there were countless other great bands of that era who produced some incredible, vital music. The Damned, The Vibrators, Siouxsie & the Banshees, The Heartbreakers, Stiff Little Fingers, The Jam, Penetration, 999, Generation X, The Dead Boys, The Stranglers (a huge fave of mine), Chelsea, Sham 69, .... the list is endless, and this is to say nothing about the generation of hardcore, oi and post-punk bands that followed in their wake.

Another track that sprang to my mind too late to recommend to my co-worker was "Mars Bar" by The Undertones. Clocking in at a stealthy two minutes and seven seconds, "Mars Bar" is sheer punky insouciance and youthful adrenaline writ large, played by five lanky, acne-speckled goons from Northern Ireland.

I was never a wild fan of The Undertones. I'd heard "Teenage Kicks" (widely renowned as the favorite all-time single by iconoclastic British disc-jockey John Peel), but always considered it a pale appropriation of a Buzzcocks tune. My judgement of them was further clouded by the fact that lead singer Feargal Sharkey (did I mention they were Irish?) was later responsible for an insufferably twee New Wave single called "Never Never," recorded with ex-Depeche Mode & Yaz, pre-Erasure keyboard-twiddler Vince Clarke under the alias, The Assembly. I don't know if you've ever heard "Never Never," but it made Culture Club at their limpest sound like Slayer by comparison. After Sharkey left The Undertones, the rest of the lads formed the perfectly respectable (if not terribly exciting) That Petrol Emotion. End of story, I thought.

Then, in 1995, I was visiting some friends in San Francisco. They all took off for work one day, leaving me to discover the city by the bay on my own. As was my usual modus operandi, I quickly determined the best record and compact disc shops to hit and off I went. Said quest led me to a celebrated record store in Berkeley called Mod Lang (is it even still there, I wonder?). I was thumbing through the racks, having already snagged a copy of the import cd-single of "Connection" by Elastica and a curious single called "Thundersly Invacar" by a go-nowhere band called Collapsed Lung when all of sudden this bracing burst of high-spirited, vintage Punk came blasting out of the sound system. I asked the hepcat behind the counter what we were listening to, and it was "Mars Bar" by The Undertones. I had to have it.

I picked up the Rykodisc re-release of The Undertones eponymous debut and bought it on the spot. The track in question, it turned out, wasn't even on the original version of the album, rather it was one of seven bonus tracks on this edition and originally the b-side of single called "Jimmy Jimmy" (also included on the album, along with the afore-mentioned "Teenage Kicks").

I'd been wrong about The Undertones. This first record is chock full of great, high-energy music rife with serrated guitars and infectious pop hooks, though my favorite tracks are among the afore-mentioned bonus cuts ("Smarter Than You" is another fine one). Regardless, "Mars Bar" remains my all-time favorite. Eschewing the call for social upheaval as espoused by their peers and ignoring the plight of the teenaged romantic, "Mars Bar" is simply a speedy ode to ruining your dinner via an unhealthy consumption of chocolate. Play it loud, leap around the break stuff.

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