Flaming Pablum

The Continental Undivides

Because I suck so bad, I invariably won't be able to attend, but this weekend, The Continental on St. Marks & Third Avnue re-opens its doors to live music (albeit for one night only). One of my favorite clubs from the 90's, I was lucky enough to ruin my hearing seeing many a fine band on its intimate stage, among them the mighty Nashville Pussy, The Pleasure Fuckers, The Candy Snatchers, The Unband and many, many more. Sunday's show will feature local legendary luminaries like Lenny Kaye, Walter Lure (ex of the Heartbreakers), Handsome Dick Manitoba, Jesse Malin, Furious George Tabb, the Dead Boys' Cheetah Chrome (pictured) and many more. You owe it to New York City to go and raise a rockin' ruckus.

Farewell to Alphaville

I've been up to my eyeballs lately, still digging out from the holidays. I worry that most of my recent (non-music related) posts have been more reactive than proactive, invariably riffing off of other bloggers' original content. My comrades EV Grieve and Jeremiah Moss, meanwhile, have been stepping up their respective games with new stories of fresh disappearances around downtown (most recently the Telephone Bar and Pizzeria Uno, two establishments I hadn't stepped inside in eons, but still feel the loss of). Jeremiah posted a new one this morning that really bummed me out.

Evidently, Alphaville, that smart little vintage toy/ephemera store on West Houston street is closing its doors at the end of this month. I stumbled upon this interesting little shop -- exclusively devoted to all things cool, esoteric & arcane -- five or six Decembers ago when I was doing some last minute Christmas shopping. I was gobsmacked to find that they were selling a lovingly preserved Mego "Planet of the Apes Fortress" (an item I highly coveted as a young lad). I practically had to sit down next to it and genuflect. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Inside Alphaville's walls was a bevy of seemingly forgotten treasures from the past, pristinely presented as the hallowed artifacts they justly deserved to be regarded as. If only there were more places like Alphaville, I invariably thought at the time.

Unsurprisingly, this great little shop is having a hard time in this economy and is being squeezed out like a blackhead by looming development on the block. It's yet another sad sign of the times. Pour one out for Alphaville.

Karmic Justice?

I suppose it's not really that surprising, but evidently that ugly brick outhouse that they closed the fabled Cedar Tavern in order to erect in said beloved watering hole's hallowed footprint is in financial ruin. Good. It serves the fuckers right. Still, what is to become of the space?

Cool interior shot of the Cedar courtesy of this Flickr page.

Madison Avenue Movie Mystery

EV Grieve recently exhumed some old photos of a couple of downtown movie theaters and in both instances linked to an exhaustive database of since-closed playhouses called Cinema Treasures. This almost immediately triggered a long dormant memory of mine involving a similarly long-since-vanished movie house on the Upper East Side. I combed through Cinema Treasures but was unable to spot it, so I thought I'd bring the question here. See if this rings any bells.

As I've mentioned elsewhere here, I was born in Manhattan and grew up on the Upper East Side in the 70's and 80's. In this post of a little over year ago, I detailed my gradual exploration of my hometown, starting with basically a ten block radius during my grade school years. I mentioned back in that other post that the strip of East 86th Street between Park and 2nd Avenues was the real hotbed of entertainment (movie theatres, record stores and fast-food joints), but I still vividly remember a humble little movie house on Madison Avenue (something unheard of today) that was perched – if I recall correctly – between East 85th & East 84th streets on the west side of the avenue (adjacent, if I'm not mistaken, to a restaurant called "The Puffing Billy," also long since closed). The theater itself was ornate and rife with lots of architectural flourish. Inside the main auditorium, the walls were festooned with backlit silhouettes of showgirls. I remember being taken to any number of movies there (Disney films were a regular feature) along with other odd, kid-centric films like "The Magic of the Kite" (see poster above). It was always a special experience.

I can't remember when it disappeared exactly, but I don't imagine it lasted too far into the dawn of the 80's, if that. I later ended up going to high school on East 83rd between Park & Madison, and it was already long-gone by then. The building which originally housed it was torn down, and a large condo now stands in its footprint. Last time I checked, a Banana Republic operated on the ground floor.

I've searched for any information about this movie theater over the Web, but have come up completely empty. Does anyone else remember it? Or did I dream it up completely? Weigh in.

Over the Rooftops

Spotted this over on the East Village Feed tumblr and thought I'd share it here. Shot from within the gigantic robotic dildo that looms ominously over Cooper Square and its surrounding environs, herewith a fleeting taste of what the view is like from within that giant phallus of ostentation.

Live from the L.E.S.?

Gothamist and Bowery Boogie have already weighed in on this, but I can't stop myself from throwing in my two cents. Evidently, there's a reality show in the works that seeks to document "the line between the music world and the real life drama of up and coming singer-songwriters who live around and play the circuit of performance venues on the Lower East Side of New York City.” Well, pardon me for being cynical (who, me?), but wouldn't this show have made more sense about, oh, at least a couple of decades ago when struggling musicians could actually afford to live and creatively thrive in the Lower East Side? Yes, I know, I'm stuck in the past, but please -- and pardon the pun -- let's be real.

Photo courtesy of Juroca.

Stuff You Might Have Missed

I'd like to extend a quasi-apology to those of you who regularly stop here expecting news about gentrification and/or further reportage about the erosion of Manhattan's character. I'm still digging out of a busy holiday season and most of the content I've been posting has been largely music-related. Rest assured that there is more Then & Now stuff on the way. In the interim, though, here are some more tune-related tidbits.

First up, I encourage you to go check out Sleevage, a fascinating blog dedicated to the fine art of the album cover (and not just heavy metal sleeves like the ones pictured above). Lots of anecdotal design info and other cool features await. Enjoy.

Next up, fans of hardcore punk will doubtlessly thrill to peruse photographer Ed Colver's site, featuring some now iconic images of bands like Black Flag, Social Distortion, the Circle Jerks, the Germs and more.

If you're not familiar with Hype Machine, you should check out their end-of-year deal where visual artists submit illustraions to represent the top 50 bands/artists of 2009 The have another link where the top 50 albums of the year are streamed for free (for a little while at least). Find the albums here and the artwork here. Enjoy.

Over on The New York Nobody Sings, check out my latest entry about ::: gasp ::: Vampire Weekend.

Lastly, don't forget to waste some precious time over at Get Back to Work. It's like junk food for your eyes.

Puttin' on The `Fits

 Back in 2005, I was deep in the throes of parenting and didn't get out to see quite as many bands as I used to. As such, I missed the semi-reunion of the Misfits' Glenn Danzig with fabled guitarist Doyle. As I understand it, the still endearingly devil-locked string-scraper joined Danzig on tour for a few dates to breathlessly revisit some classic Misfits chestnuts from the days of yore, much to the apoplectic delight of the long-denied die-hards in Glenn's waning audience. I realize that the burly-albeit-diminutive singer lost a whole bunch of credibility in the wake of this widely circulated clip from a year or so later, but I still think the footage captured below (from Philadelphia's Electric Factory, I believe) is entirely awesome, not least for Doyle's heroically ridiculous stage entrance. Enjoy.

To Prune One's Tunes

 You may remember my tortured missive of a couple of weeks back wherein I wept bitter, caustic tears about my ailing iPod. To close the loop on that tragic saga, I finally gave up the ghost and went to visit the dubiously-named "Genius Bar" at the Soho Apple store. Therein I met with a fresh-faced, tattooed "genius" who basically told me that my iPod was fucked. It'll still play and charge, but I won't be able to synch it or load it with anything new. Sure, I could get it repaired, but it would cost almost the same amount as, well, buying a new one. And being that funds are especially slight at the moment, I shan't be doing that for a great while. So, I'm basically just killing time until (a) this iPod dies its inevitable death and/or (b) I win Lotto.

Frustratingly, I've since amassed a small stack of compact discs that I'm dying to listen to. Among the titles are the soundtrack to "This Is England" (featuring a load of vintage ska), the deluxe re-master of Q: Are We Not Men? by Devo and my next door neighbor's coveted copy of Computerwelt,the remaster of Kraftwerk's Computer World performed in the band's icy native German. Yes, I could simply play them at home, but it's not like Peggy (let alone Charlotte & Oliver) want to hear any of this stuff. Under normal circumstances, I'd rip'em to my iTunes and listen en route to and from the office. Unfortunately for me, that's no longer an option.

At the very least, this new inaccessibility will handily curtail my old music-buying habits for a while – which is beneficial, given my afore-cited paucity of cash these days. Honestly, the last thing I really need is to bring any more compact discs into the house (yes, I'm that old-fashioned sort that still buys actual, physical albums…color me crazy). As I was mulling this quandary over in my head today, I came across this article from a youthful writer inquiring as to the right course of action in terms of disposing her "high school CD collection." Where I'd sooner part with certain vital organs than jettison any of my prized compact discs (and don't get me started on the vinyl), it seems that some people now regard the physical manifestations of their music collection in this digital age as simply clutter… although, to be fair, the writer of the piece does similarly vow to never discard her precious Whitney Houston & Mariah discs … music I wouldn't play at a dog, but I suppose there's no accounting for taste.

Quit Holding Out & Draw Another Breath

Spotted this on EV Grieve this morning and thought I'd share it. Today is the anniversary of the U.S. release of London Calling by The Clash, which hit the racks in 1980. I remember buying my vinyl copy of it at the Disc-O-Mat on Lexington Avenue between 57th & 58th streets in Manhattan. Thirty years (!!!) later, The Clash are long over, Joe Strummer is dead, The Palladium on East 14th where the iconic cover shot of Paul Simonon was snapped is now an NYU dorm and that Disc-O-Mat is now a Payless shoe store. Anyway, go crank it up.