Flaming Pablum

Is Christmas Finally Over for Madison Square's Seasonal Sentinels

It’s a building I walk by on my commute to work every day, and I’ve always been curious about it. A squat, little structure opposite the stately Flatiron Building on Madison Square, the regally-named Commodore Criterion seems like an unlikely landmark, but apparently it is one. Since as far back as I can remember, however, it’s been some sort of showroom for Christmas gear, although one that seems to have been closed for some time. I have no idea what's been going on in there for the past several years, if anything.

For me, though, the most striking aspect of the Commodore Criterion has always been the little Christmas figures that stand tirelessly above its entrance, silently bleating out their perpetual carols all year round. They’ve stood there through blackouts, blizzards, heat waves and even the odd hurricane (how they survived Sandy I’ll never know). The cellist -- or was that a double-bass? -- has only recently been stripped of his instrument. They’re all a little worse for wear, but they’re still up there.

Recently, however, I noticed that the window displays in the building had been stripped out and the windows had all been papered up. Clearly, something's afoot in the Commodore Criterion. I did a bit of Googling, and lo and behold, the address has apparently been recently acquired by a Spanish batroom fixture company called Porcelanosa. Originally thought to be reverting back into a a residential building, the Commodore Criterion now seems poised to become that venture's flagship store, which -- frankly -- is a bit dull.

I can't help thinking that one morning very soon, I'll be walking to work and will glance up to find the Commodore Criterion carolers gone, weathered vestiges of a bygone era tossed in the trash. 

Enjoy them while ya can.

Middle Age Riot

About a year or so ago, I was at a planning meeting for the weekend incarnation of my job and news had just come through about the break-up of one celebrity couple or another (I think it might've been Danny DeVito and Rhea Pearlman, if memory serves, but I can't be sure). In any case, the discussion turned to maybe doing a larger piece on surprising break-ups of very public couples. Everyone chimed in with their picks, and the usual suspects were cited (Brad & Jennifer, Marc Anthony and J.Lo, etc.) Wanting to contribute as always, I raised my hand and said: "Thurston Moore & Kim Gordon," and it was if someone had thrown a wet beach towel over a roaring flame. Eyebrows arched. "Who?" asked the collective throng. Now, granted, being an unrepentant music geek working within the cogs of a very mainstream operation finds me routinely making cultural allusions that fall on deaf and/or entirely disinterested ears, but I hadn't considered Sonic Youth to be an especially esoteric name to drop in about twenty years. I explained who Thurston and Kim were, and one of the higher ranking editors chuckled accordingly, suggesting that the nation of suburban soccer moms who comprise the core demographic of the program probably wouldn't know ... much less care ... about the luminaries in question.

In retrospect, that may have been the right call. How Sonic Youth could still be perceived as a strange, unknown quantity at this stage of the proceedings may seem baffling to me, but I sometimes forget that I live in New York City, which even in its current culture climate still owes precious little to the rest of the continental United States (where Daughtry, Bon Jovi pass as "rock" on a radio landscape otherwise ruled by Beyonce, Katy Perry and their vile ilk, but I'm entirely digressing).

I've posted a number of times about Sonic Youth here,... which is surprising, really, as they've never been one of what my friend Rob B. and I used to call "the Crucial Few." Sure, I thrilled to my first hearing of "Death Valley `69" off 1985's Bad Moon Rising, and dutifully snapped up copies of Evol, Sister and Daydream Nation upon their respective, dissonant releases. I loved early Sonic Youth records for their high-volume attack, their unconventional tunings (which always sounded intriguingly "wrong") and their thinly-veiled fascination with Charles Manson. Simply put, I greatly preferred Sonic Youth when they were inaccessible and scary. From Goo onward, not only did they relatively trim the more "out there" elements of their sound, but they significantly paired down the weird of their sentiment. By 1992's Dirty, I'd pretty much completely lost interest in further Sonic Youth albums (although I'm told they went back to their envelope-pushing roots later on).

Regardless of my luke-warm feelings for their records after the early 90's, I continued to hold the band -- and especially Thurston and Kim -- in high esteem. Between Thurston's encyclopedic brain and insatiable hunger for music and Kim's effortless cool, it was hard not to root for them. They just seemed like they had it all figured out.

And that's precisely why it was so jarring in the fall of 2011 to hear that Kim and Thurston were splitting up. After being so seemingly with it and together for all those years, this perfect couple was becoming so suddenly imperfect. This was why I thought they were ripe for inclusion in a round-up of surprising break-ups. How could Thurston and Kim not keep it together after creating such music and being married for so long?

Obviously, my fairy-tale fanboy perceptions of the marriage of Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore were purely projections. Like everyone else, they're human, and thus prone to the same human frailties and failings the rest of us are.

Just yesterday, Elle Magazine published a candid interview with Kim Gordon wherein she disclosed the fundamental reason for the split. While no names were mentioned (and even if they had been, that wouldn't alter the circumstances), the scenario that Kim describes was so strikingly cliched and .... frankly ... banal that I found it profoundly depressing. I won't give away any of the gossipy deets, but click here to read it.

And just for posterity, here's Sonic Youth when they had it all together...

Things That Are Not There: Slight Return

I discussed it in some depth on this post from 2008, but back in the spring of 2004, I bought my first digital camera. It sounds quaint now, but they were still fairly newfangled at that point. I'd been fighting the incoming tide of digital photography in much the same I'd been pushing back against the onslaught of mp3s over compact discs (and, more recently, Kindles, Nooks and other tablets over actual books). But, with a brand new baby daughter having just arrived, my obligation to send pictures of my lovely little offspring to relatives and loved ones on all corners of the earth demanded that I succumb to the ease and convenience of digital photography. I made a vow that I'd still continue to use film, but -- obviously -- that never happened.

Almost a decade later, had I kept that vow, I wonder where I'd get my film developed these days? Can you name a nearby photo lab that's still open? I don't think I can.

In any case, becoming a parent in 2004 opened myriad new chapters in my life. But it also served, in turn, to close others. While, yes, getting married was a big step, it was having my first child that really served as the Rubicon-crossing from whence there was no return. My life changed. My world perspective changed. My priorities changed. Maybe not all overnight, but the fact remains that I was forever transformed.

On a small scale, I don't believe I ever shot another role of film again after Charlotte was born. It was a vow that was just too difficult to keep. Moreover, I just wasn't spending as much time taking pictures of things other that my family by that point.

That changed back, though, gradually. In time, I was back to taking pictures of my favorite things in New York City. But by this time, I felt as though there'd been a significant sea change. Whether it was because of the events of September 11, 2001 or -- again -- because I was now a dad, the NYC I'd captured in my box fulls of black & white film didn't seem the same. As such, I didn't give the pictures I was now taking as much consideration, I suppose.

Quite recently, as I recently lamented, my desktop home computer (my third iMac) has crossed a Rubicon of its own, and is sorely in need of being upgraded, if not entirely jettisoned in favor of a newer, faster, stronger model. As fate would have it, however, I'm just not in a position at the moment to be droppin' those kinds of dollars. As such, I'm trying to squeeze that last bits of life-blood out of the thing. I'm freeing up as much space on it as I can by offloading huge swathes of stuff onto external drives and purging like mad.

In the course of doing same, I started going through my pictures in iPhoto more scrupulously -- deleting meaningless ones and lightening the load. During that process, however, I was struck by how many images I'd amassed since April of 2004 of things that -- by this point nine years later -- are no longer there. I routinely post photo round-ups of since-vanished New York City locales from back in my proper film days, so in that same theme, herewith a new edition of Things That Are Not There....

The Hog Pit (22 9th Avenue) circa June 2004

Extra Place (1st Street between Bowery and Second Avenue.. behind CBGB) circa August 2004

9 Second Avenue circa August 2004

291 Bowery circa August 2004

 

The High Line circa September 2004

Tower Records on Broadway and East 4th circa January 2005

The Cedar Tavern on Univesity Place circa January 2005

Subterranean Records of Cornelia Street circa September 2006

Cool Stuff on Lafayette Street just north of Bleecker circa February 2006

CBGB  on the Bowery circa March 2005

Every Day is Record Store Day

So, here's a weird one. Yesterday afternoon, I took a stroll-about with my kids and my camera and we found ourselves walking west on West 3rd Street. As we approached Bleecker Bob's -- in the wake of the long, gloomy fanfare of its lamented demise -- I was somewhat surprised to see it, well,open for business and crowded! I guess, technically, it's no longer officially operational, but they were staging a clearance sale (and still looked to have loads of stock still on the premises). Not sure how long that will last.

Today, meanwhile, is Record Store Day. It's a cause I've supported in earnest in the past, but these days, it just seems, as my friend Bruce observed, that it's been hijacked by the major labels to push back catalogs. To make a ludicrously lofty comparison, it's a bit like Earth Day. I mean, shouldn't every day be Earth Day? Shouldn't every day be Record Store Day? It certainly is for me.

Of course, I couldn't let the day pass without stopping into Other Music (looking fruitlessly for that Killing Joke single I spoke about earlier). They didn't have it. That doesn't mean my search is over, though. 

Meanwhile, click here to support Bleecker Bob's quest to find a new home!

Killing Joke at Irving Plaza: 2013

Last night saw the triumphant return of my beloved Killing Joke to New York's Irving Plaza. This is the third time they've played this venue in as many tours, and it's always a fine time. The boys were in top form (although I'm of the opinion that Jaz could use a haircut). Big Paul Ferguson on the drums was a dynamo as ever. Geordie's guitar was a little too buried in the mix for my taste, but it was still a rollicking ride.

Favorite moments: The band revisiting "Chop Chop" and "Turn to Red," and an unexpected romp through "The Death & Resurrection Show" during the encore.

The band is currently touring in support of their as-yet-unavailable singles collection. But, being that it's Record Store Day, there is a special UK-only EP out there today ... if someone spies one, I'd be grateful if you'd snag me a copy.

Stuff You Might Have Missed in a Frankly Horrific Week

The unbelievable events in Boston are still unfolding as I type this. It's somewhat hard to fathom everything that's going on at the moment, from the manhunt for the surviving Boston bomber (and his possible co-conspirators) to the ricin letters arrest to the massive fertilizer explosion in Texas to the incredibly dispiriting gun bill filibuster to North Korea. How can all this be happening at once?

In any case, there were a few other items I would have otherwise spent large amounts of time on here on Flaming Pablum if the world wasn't currently imploding around us. Here's a quick roundup.

I'd originally penned a longer piece on this -- and may revive it at a later point -- but I was very saddened to learn of the death of graphic designer Storm Thorgerson of Hipignosis. As a budding music devotee, I was a tremendous fan of his work on so many seminal albums, notably for Floyd and Zeppelin (to name but two). The visuals he helped pair with the music are truly iconic. We have lost a master.

Iggy & the Stooges have a new album titled Ready to Die slated for release later this month. Presumably, the artwork for the sleeve was designed months ago, but I'm wondering if it's going to get a radical re-think in the wake of this week. The artwork in question looks like this.

Lovely comic book shop Jim Hanley's Universe is closing its location in the shadow of the Empire State Building. It's going to re-open somewhere else, supposedly, but I'm still bummed out by that.

And just as another parting tribute to the late Scott Miller, here's Game Theory's "big hit single," "Erica's Word."

Please stay safe, everyone.

Remembering Game Theory

This original post of mine (from almost exactly five years ago) was really just more about me and my associations with a song by the band Game Theory from back in the mid-1980’s, but that band’s lead singer and primary songwriter, Scott Miller, died earlier this week at age 53.

After disbanding Game Theory, Miller formed the equally great Loud Family, but sadly never really attained the recognition he deserved. I’d originally heard him via a great compilation called The Enigma Variations, but it was the track I discuss below off The Big Shot Chronicles (a song that was frequently playing in a series of connected dorm-rooms that a few friends of mine lived in dubbed “The Power Suite”) that made me a fan.

I wish I could say I was as versed in his music and many of my fellow music-geek peers are, but that’s just not the case. I had a couple of his records and enjoyed them thoroughly, and was very sad to hear of his passing. No cause of death was disclosed.

Anyway, here's that original post...

Again, I usually like to have some grand design for posting music here, but my only impetus for putting this song up today is that Spring hath sprung. I first heard Game Theory in my sophomore year of college, wherein a gaggle of significantly hipper friends of mine strove to pull me out of my none-more-black phase of listening exclusively to vitriolic hardcore, vintage punk, slack-jawed metal and histrionic goth rock. Along with bands like The Feelies, The Plimsouls, The Dream Syndicate, The Three O'Clock, The Smithereens, The Hoodoo Gurus, Let's Active, The Lime Spiders, Pylon, Guadalcanal Diary and a host of others, Game Theory showed me that there was indeed life beyond the skull-cracking resonance of the almighty power chord. This was back when they called this brand of jangle-heavy, paisley underground fare "college rock". And yea verily, it was good.

There's assuredly nothing duller than listening to some forty-year-old, midlife-crisis-suffering windbag wax nostalgic about the music of his college days. I used to groan and grimace when I heard my own father bust into impromptu and entirely unsolicited a capella renditions of hits by the Young Rascals and Credence Clearwater. I imagine my own children will similarly blanche when I spontaneously air guitar to old nuggets by the Circle Jerks and Motorhead. But in all candor, "Make Any Vows" by Game Theory -- especially its seamlessly simple guitar hook -- takes me right back to a series of maddeningly beautiful Spring days spent out on the sprawling quadrangles of grass around the Denison University campus, watching my friends play hackey sack (a skill I never mastered, much less aspired to master) and attempting to divine the perfect way to ask that girl in Sociology/Anthropology 101 out on a proper date (which never transpired, alas).

Turn it up. Blow off class. Get outside.

A Breather

Sorry for the relative slowdown in activity here this week. It’s just tough to rationalize posting my usual trivial nonsense here in the wake of Monday’s horrific events. After a senseless act of violence like that, it’s a little tough to go immediately back to bitching about gentrification, whining about closing record stores and talking about old photographs. 

I’ll resume when the time feels right. In the interim, please enjoy the frivolous photo of lovingly presented quality vinyl, taken within the interior of Generation Records on Sullivan Street.

.., oh, also,...THIS:

Bleecker Bob's Last Day

I'm not sure I really knew what to expect when I stopped into Bleecker Bob's for the last time this morning. Rock luminaries stopping into to pay their respects? Teary-eyed skinheads hugging it out? Heaps of merchandise being set ablaze? I saw none of those things (although they are open until 3am... so I suppose all three could still happen). Around 11:15 am, however, it looked like just another day at the shop. It certainly didn't look like a place that was closing for good in under twenty-four hours.

Not really looking for anything specific, I browsed around the familiar place. I felt obligated to buy something, though, out of respect. But that's when I got my confirmation that it really was going. I asked if they had a copy of Bloodbrothers by the Dictators on compact disc. It's an album I've owned on vinyl since about 1983, but I had the recent urge to hear it again. Chris behind the counter, kind of the Eeyore of the operation, didn't even look up at me. "Nope, we don't have that." Under normal circumstances, he'd probably have checked or offered to order it for me. What was the point now?

My fellow would-be patrons were likely types, similarly wandering around to soak up their final dose of the place. An aging rock dude (like, er...myself), graying at the temple and widening at the waistline beneath his ill-fitting Flamin' Groovies t-shirt asked if there were any Bleecker Bob's t-shirts left (like the one I displayed on this post). They'd, apparently, flown off the shelves in the last couple of days. I'd actually thought of picking one up myself prior to stopping in, but I guess I was too late. Probably for the best, though. As I've said in my numerous posts on the subject before, it'd been a huge while since I'd been a regular customer of Bleecker Bob's.

After snapping a few pics, I asked Chris how the plans for re-location were going. "Well, if it happens," he said with a characteristic dearth of optimism, "we might end up in a space over on East 9th off Second Avenue." That brief glimmer of hope momentarily brightened the mood, but it was an overall depressing experience otherwise. I glumly left the place without purchasing anything, thinking about the countless times I'd crossed that very threshold. This was probably the final time (as I gravely doubt I'll visit 118 West Third Street in its next incarnation.

Closing Time for Bleecker Bob's

I’ve already written about the impending demise of Bleecker Bob’s a number of times here (see below), so I can’t really credibly go over that ground again (ha…as if the lack of credibility has ever stopped me from posting here), but my comrade Tim Broun put together a very nice eulogy for the place that I felt should be evangelized. Click here for that.

Tomorrow is Bleecker Bob’s last day in business. It will draw down its gate for the final time, and its address will lay dormant for a short while. The space that it occupied will then transform into a frozen yogurt emporium … something this neighborhood, this city, this FUCKING PLANET simply does not need.

The backstory….

Freezing out Bleecker Bob’s
Farewell to Bleecker Bob's?
Back to Bleecker Bob's
Bedtime for Bleecker Bob's