Flaming Pablum

Flaming Pablum Photo Quiz: Two Wheeled Edition

Here's something to chew on going into your weekend....

I'm not going to insult your intelligence. Obvsiously, that's Andy Warhol. Any buffoon can see that. No, the challenge herein is this: Who is that with him? Who took the photo and, most importantly, WHERE IS THE PRECISE LOCATION IN NEW YORK CITY?

To inspire you...

It's a Shame About Sam

Inspired by recent events, I decided to revisit Spike Lee's "Summer of Sam" from 1999 the other night, hoping to come away from it with a bit more appreciation than my first viewing granted. No dice. Sure, Spike does a reasonable job of hitting all the requisite cultural milestones of the era, but he makes some sweeping generalizations and leaves some gaping holes that render the rest of the film unenjoyable... or at least for insufferable pedants like myself.

Unsurprisingly, my biggest gripe with "Summer of Sam" is its ham-fisted handling of NYC Punk. Academy award-winner Adrien Brody hands in a respectable performance as Richie, a furtive square peg and nascent punk rocker surrounded by thinly-sketched Italian Brooklynite stereotypes, but he's given some clunky writing to contend with. As a cloyingly anglophilic outcast (through much of the first reel, he adopts an ersatz British accent that would make Dick Van Dyke wince), Richie predictably makes his way out of Brooklyn to go live closer to the action at CBGB in Manhattan. Once ensconced therein, his band plays to a richly unvaried gaggle of punk stereotypes as reliant on cartoonish convention and cultural revisionism as Lee's depiction of Italian-Americans.

I had a similar beef with Alex Cox's "Sid & Nancy" and Oliver Stone's "The Doors." Even if you're not an obsessive music dork like myself, all you have to do is go back to era-specific footage of CBGB to realize that in 1977, the punks didn't really look like "punks," if you smell what I'm cookin'. The kids who fill out Spike Lee's depiction of the CB's scene all sport the stylistic trappings of 80's hardcore and 90's alt.rock/grunge. Towards the end of the somewhat laborious film, Richie's character sports a tall, blonde mohawk -- a tonsorial flourish that really wouldn't take off for several years. C'mon, Spike, do your homework.

Blah blah blah, I know. None of this really matters, but Lee's sloppy rendering of what some would consider a crucial aspect of the era he was trying to convey undermined the whole project for me. Perhaps if he'd spent as much attention on those details as he did on the sports of the day (the Yankees -- admittedly a huge phenomenon in the summer of 1977 -- practically get as much screen time as the killer), it would have been a better film.

Also, why is Brody's character obsessed with The Who? Yes, the Who were inarguably a profound influence on punk, but Spike Lee zeros in on the band's synth-laden, operatic and thoroughly hirsute early-70's period (circa Who's Next), rather than their days as edgier, taut Mods. It doesn't add up.

Anyway, perhaps Spike just bit off a bit more than he could chew. To see a better, era-reverent handling of the same type of film, I'd suggest David Fincher's "Zodiac" from 2007. For a better depiction of the New York in the summer of 1977, meanwhile, I'd STRONGLY recommend checking out the VH1 documentary, "NY77: The Coolest Year in Hell." "Summer of Sam," though? Skip it.

Stupid Music News That Ruined My Day

1. You'd think someone who's been a fan of Killing Joke for three decades would be used to musicians saying outrageously disreputable things (do not *EVEN* get me started on the recent Jaz Coleman kerfuffle -- too much has been said already), but today's news about statements made from the stage in Singapore by Dave Mustaine of Megadeth really blew a new part in my hair. While I'd never consider myself an ardent fan of the band (they're easily the weakest of "the Big 4"), I've always absolutely adored "Peace Sells." Suffice to say, after hearing what Dave had to say, I'm ready to snap that disc in half. 

2. There are certain bands that I'll always forgive, no matter how many missteps they make. I'll overlook bad albums, botched tours, ill-conceived collaborations and even turn a blind eye to the odd commercial endorsement out of sheer loyalty. Devo is one of those bands. They nearly lost me over that whole Devo 2.0 thing several years back, but I was willing to chalk it up and stay the course. This week, the band made news by announcing that they're releasing a song that essentially denounces Mitt Romney for his infamous mistreatment of the family dog some number of years ago. I have no problem with that necessarily, although it does seem like they're taking an easy, opportunistic shot. If anything, I commend Devo by taking a stand, even if it's ultimately somewhat silly. It's certainly not the first time they've done that.

No, my problem with Devo this week comes with the announcement that they "infiltrated" Urban Outfitters by allowing the company to sell pre-shredded Devo t-shirts to malnourished teens who wouldn't know Devo's music if their very lives depended on it. Beyond that is also the objectionable fact that Urban Outfitters (who I've expressed hatred for before) is owned by a hardcore conservative.

I sympathize with the fact that Devo needs money, but I would have thought that -- of all bands -- they'd have been the first to turn this type of thing down. Oh well.

Fashion Statement

Spotted on Fifth Avenue this morning. Honestly, under what circumstances would someone actually wear this?

David on the Pavement

Hey all. Sorry for the lull, but I've been running around an awful lot over the past couple of weeks and it's starting to catch up to me. Dog tired, I am.

In any case, here's a quick one.

I spotted the above photo making the rounds on Facebook today, and I thought I'd share it here. About five or six years ago, I was walking south down University Place and passed a similarly-dressed gentleman walking with a little girl, and immediately felt a 'tremor in the Force,' if you will. When I turned to get another glance, he was gone, but I could have sworn it was Bowie. Walking around New york City, one gets used to seeing the odd celeb here and there. But Bowie, as far as I'm concerned, is on a whole `nother level.

Sure enough, that's David Bowie in the shot above -- in some strikingly incongruous gear (quite on purpose, I'm assuming). Note the subtle bird-flippage?  As I understand it, Dave now considers himself retired and wants nothing more than to be left alone to mind his family. Fair enough, I say. He's more than earned it.

But, clearly, getting the break he wants isn't easy for a bona fide living legend. Poor guy can't even hail a cab without attracting attention. I'm not sure what I'd say/do were I to see him on the street again, although it would invariably be wiser and certainly more considerate to leave him the fuck alone (lest I reprise my awkward Joe Jackson run-in of a few years back).

In any case, it reminded me once again of the Scorsese-cribbing clip below, wherein a more sartorially-recognizable David is pictured nervously sprinting through the pre-9/11 streets of SoHo and the East and West Villages. Let's spin it again, shall we.....?

Blondie on the Streets

I spotted this originally on my comrade Glen Friedman’s blog (after he, in turn, had found it on Dangerous Minds). I love how Glen prefaces his post with this unsurprising declaration: “I was never a Blondie fan at all in any way…” That is signature Friedman.

In any case, I’m passing it along here, not only because it’s a fine bit of coolness for a Friday afternoon, but it’s also a great excuse to showcase a few awesome pictures of the band. The shot above of Debbie Harry on the Bowery in front of CBGB, I should point out, was snapped by the inimitable Bob Gruen. I’m not sure who took the below shot, although I presume it was taken during the same session the produced the shot I quizzed readers about back on this post last year (also featured on the Dangerous Minds link).

 

In any case, I’ve always liked Blondie. As if it were yesterday, I still vividly remember when my older sister brought home a copy of Parallel Lines in late 1978, enthralled by the disco pulse of “Heart of Glass.” While I much preferred the rockier tracks like “One Way or Another” and “Hanging On The Telephone,” it quickly became a slab of vinyl that we both agreed upon (a phenomenon which was becoming increasingly rarer with every passing month).

Anyway, here’s the BBC doc. Debbie, I'm sure, would approve. Enjoy.

Do You Speak Ramone?

I'm basicallly swiping this from the great Legs McNeil (although you should all go check out his official Please Kill Me site with the quickness), but it's simply too great not to pass on.

Please enjoy this footage of blissfully cherubic South Korean pre-schoolers -- a demographic, it should be remembered, whose first language is not English -- gleefully singing along to  "Judy is a Punk" by the Ramones.

 

Pain Station

As a native New Yorker, I've gotten off pretty light in terms of having to deal with Penn Station. I'm talking, of course, about the current incarnation of Penn Station, and not the splendid cathedral of modern ingenuity and transportation that formerly stood in its footprint. By all accounts, the contemporary Penn Station is a deeply unpleasant and ill-conceived shadow of what it was and what it should be.

Like I said, though, I get off light. I only find myself darkening its corridors once a week or so during the summers, when I'm trying to hop a train out to my mom's place on Long Island, where my wife and kids are sequestered in July and August. While it's still a lame experience, at least I don't have to deal with it every day.

Many, many summers ago, I spent a good deal more time in Penn Station when I was working as a dishwasher at Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa in Westhampton Beach (don't bother looking for Ina there now, she's long gone). I used to continually bounce back and forth between there and the city, which found me regularly racing through the congested and airless rabbit warren that was the Penn Station of the mid-80's (a pointedly less pleasant place than the one of today, I assure you).

There also used to be a massive video arcade in the bowels of Penn Station in the early 80's that I'd frequent called Station Break. Access to that arcade's diverse selection of games made dealing with the hassle of Penn Station worthwhile, but that was a very different era as well.

In any case, there was a great report on WNYC this morning about the abject shittiness of Penn Station, along with some great tips and bits of trivia about navigating the place with a modicum of stealth and efficiency. Check out its accompany article (and great video) by clicking on this link here.

Back to L'Amour

I recently became 'friends" on Facebook with a great blog called Long Island and NYC Places That Are No More. While they do post an awful lot of pictures of esoteric Nassau county stuff, they are an amazing trove of vintage NYC photography that you all need to go check out at once. Go. Now. Tell'em I sent'cha. Their Facebook page can be found right here.

In any case, they put up the below shot this morning and it instantly struck a chord. I spoke about L'Amour in Brooklyn back on this post, but it seemed worth re-exhuming.

As I said back then, I only managed to attend a single show at L'Amour, that being Faith No More, Voivod and Soundgarden in 1990. I went with my former colleague from SPIN (for whom I'd recently quit interning and Brent had quit copyediting). I believe I initially balked at the idea of traveling to Brooklyn to see the show, but both Brent and I were hugely into Louder Than Love by Soundgarden at the time, so it seemed like the right thing to do.

I went to at least two shows a week back then (ahhh....youth). If memory serves, I'd gone to see Dread Zeppelin (a white reggae band that played -- or plays, if they're still goin' -- Zeppelin covers with an Elvis impersonator as a lead singer) at Wetlands Preserve in TriBeCa only the night before, and the t-shirt I'd procured at that show prompted many confused gawks from the gathered metalheads at L'Amour.

In doing a bit of searching around YouTube, I actually came across some video of the FNM and Soundgarden sets that night. I haven't watched all of it, but if you see a guy in the crowd in a white Dread Zeppelin t-shirt, that's probably me.

Here it is below. For good measure, I'm also including my favorite Voivod track beneath it (as they were indeed there, I promise you).

At last glance, Soundgarden, Faith No More and Voivod are all back together and touring. Scarily, Dread Zeppelin are still going as well (you'd think that particular comedy cow would have been milked dry by this point). L'Amour closed in 2004. Brent moved to Los Angeles. I'm still right here.

Bob's Got It Covered

Anyone who cares about these things has probably already discovered it, but being that I'm such a proponent of his work, I feel it's my duty to point out that Bob Egan of PopSpots has once again updated the site, this time with a quick-fire roundup of crucial album cover locations. I've already addressed many of the ones cited (notably KISS, Sonic Youth, Southside Johnny, the Beastie Boys and the `Dolls) here on my own blog, but Bob uses his usual amount of digital sorcery to really make them come alive. As always, it's great fun -- go check it out.