Flaming Pablum

The Silence of Sounds

Honestly, I’ve got to stop writing about these places, as they’re vanishing left, right and center.

Back in May of last year, you may remember, I penned a post about Sounds on St. Marks (some call it St. Marks Sounds… I’ll let you debate that). The thrust of that post was that while other age-old record shops were either already long-gone, or in the process of closing, Sounds was hanging in there, largely thanks to the fact that the guy who ran Sounds also owned the building. That's me to the left back in December, shooting a selfie on its storied stoop.

Well, scratch all that. EV Grieve posted the sad news this morning that the space Sounds occupies on St. Marks Place is up for rent. This hasn’t been the first time I’ve worried about it, but apparently this time it’s true. As pointed out, this will mark the end of an era, given that Sounds was the last remaining record shop on that strip of St. Marks Place.

Grieve posted the news on Facebook, and the comments started coming fast and furiously. One contributor somewhat churlishly had this to say.

Seriously folks, except for a niche market for vinyl, there's no reason for record stores to exist anymore. As a long-ago manager of a St. Mark's Place record store myself (East Village Oldies) I am sad to see Sounds go, but not in the slightest bit mad.

Well, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, Sounds (and its many since-vanished peers) were part of a particular culture that thrived downtown (East and West). The fact that (most) people choose to "consume" their music in an entirely different manner these days doesn't diminish the fact that we are losing more than just a brick-&-mortar outlet wherein to procure music software. I made some of my best friends and life-affirming discoveries in grotty mom'n'pop record stores, and connected with like-minds. I doubt a frorzen yogurt emporium, CVS or another fucking bank will serve that same end.

Was Sounds perfect? Hell, no. Even as recently as December, I was being disappointed by the place. But that didn’t mean I wanted to see them give up the ghost.

Maybe now they'll part with that Plasmatics poster.

Happy Valentine's Day

Hey all... Just a quick note to say Happy Valentine's Day. Never my favorite holiday, but c'est la guerre. I promise to have more stuff up here soon. It's just a been a bit crazed of late. Please stand by.

In the interim, be good to each other! The above is a poster from a show I attended in Los Angeles back in the Nineties. The wife finally asked me take the poster down from our wall circa 2001.

I can't imagine why, can you?

It's Beginning To Look a Lot Like Chri......oh wait

Back to the Scrap Bar

As I mentioned back in this post from 2012, The Scrap Bar on MacDougal Street was a somewhat goofy affair, but hey… it was the 80’s and 90’s, and goof was in high demand. I certainly logged several hours down in the Scrap Bar’s dank confines, supping shitty beer next to dudes in unironic Queensryche t-shirts, so I can’t condemn the place too much.

In any case, I stumbled upon the rather poor quality video clip below of an old episode of “120 Minutes” which, for your youngsters out there, was a relatively entertaining program on MTV dedicated to so-called “alternative” rock (this, of course, being back in the era when MTV actually played music).

Herewith we see cheeky host Kevin Seal fraternizing down in the Scrap Bar circa 1988, and interviewing none other than the great Joe Strummer (looking strikingly young and slim). It’s a weird trip back through time.

Twenty-six years later, I’m not sure what transpires at the old spot of the Scrap Bar on MacDougal, if anything (although the building has an even more august history as the old site of the Gaslight). “120 Minutes” went off the air at some point in the mid-to-late 90’s. MTV stopped playing music pretty much entirely at some point in the 2000’s (just a little bit after I stopped working there). No idea where Kevin Seal is today. And Joe Strummer, of course, passed away in 2002.

Speeding Through Time

Here's just a quick one.

Regular reader Jeff Jotz send this video to me yesterday. Here are CBGB alumni power-posters The Speedies (I mentioned them, you may remember, back on this post) bashing through their single "Time" circa 1980. Most of the action takes place around the Water Street Digital Clock, which was formerly adjacent to that funky neon light tunnel that I spoke about back here. I can't say I've been down in that neck of the woods in quite some time, but apparently the Water Street Digital Clock is still there. Here's a little more info about it.

The Speedies, meanwhile, never really took off, I'm sorry to say. One of them lived quite nearby me off University Place for a while. I haven't seen him in quite a quite, I'm sorry to say. Always meant to chat with him and find out more. 

In any case, here they were in happier days.

Back to the Nights of Laser Floyd

Flipping through the channels earlier this week, I found myself watching an installment of Channel Thirteen’s “Treasures of New York” series, this edition dedicated to the stately Museum of Natural History on Central Park West, an institution that holds a very dear place in my heart dating back to my childhood.

Much like the Metropolitan Museum of Art over on my native Upper East Side, I was taken to the Natural History museum so many times as a wee lad that I’m still pretty much able to find my way around it with my eyes closed. Sure, it’s changed here and there, but much like that scene in J.D. Salinger’s “A Catcher in the Rye” wherein Holden takes solace in the unchanging nature of a particular diorama in the Native American wing, there is a feeling of stately permanence to the place. That said, I’m sure I’ve just jinxed it. Expect it to be razed one day soon and replaced by a massive condo.

One aspect that has changed about the museum in question, however, is the Hayden Planetarium. The original building (above) was closed and destroyed in the late 90’s to pave the way for the Rose Center for Earth and Space. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never set foot in the new incarnation. I’m sure it’s a wonder to behold, but I just miss the old place.

And while I associate the rest of the Natural History museum with my childhood, the old Hayden Planetarium is rooted firmly in my teenhood, and there’s only one reason for that: LASER FUCKING FLOYD

Many a night did my rockhead friends and I loiter menacingly on those very steps, waiting to enter for another brain-frying round of “Laserlumia” (as it always read on the ticket stub), pairing high-volume airings of predictable selections from Dark Side of the Moon, Meddle, The Wall and Wish You Were Here (why never any love for Animals?) with retina-bedazzling laser animation. And it wasn’t just the Floyd. There was Laser Zeppelin, Laser Rush, “Heavy Laser” (which featured some Judas Priest tracks, if memory serves) and, later on, a “college rock” version that featured tracks by The Pretenders, Gary Numan, Joe Jackson and Julian Cope.

Sure, it was a bit hokey, but it was still pretty goddamn awesome. We used to make an evening of it, gathering in the rotunda outside the Planetarium hours in advance amid hordes of other bedenimed cretins, many partaking in various taboo activities prior to being let into the incongruously buttoned-down halls of the Hayden Planetarium, to shuffle by a replica of a meteorite and images of moon-landings before entering the great sphere to get their minds blown.

I’m not sure, but I don’t believe the current incarnation of the planetarium offers anything comparable to the Laser Floyd of my youth, and they’re probably a little embarrassed by it. Regardless, I’ll never forget those night under the stars in the big sphere.

The Photo That Continues to Break My Heart

Rest in peace, sir.

He Loved You, Suzanne

Many a Lou Reed purist will look at his mid-80's span of albums ... notably New Sensations and Mistrial .... and basically wince. Fair enough. It certainly wasn't his most creatively fertile era (although I'll certainly take both over Lulu any day of the week). It wouldn't be until 1989's New York album that Reed would gain back his fabled edge.

That all said, I still have a soft spot for the mid-80's Lou, however slick. I've posted the video for the frankly ludicrous "Original Wrapper" here a number times, not so much for the tune itself (which is dire), but more for the fact that it captures the TriBeCa of the 1980's perfectly. Similarly, this video for Lou's big 1984 single, "I Love You Suzanne," captures some stylish depictions of the NYC of the era (witness the image of lone Lou in a Staple Street phone booth as the video begins). I can't name the bar the couple is repeatedly seen entering and exiting (as Lou plays the role of the stuffy boyfriend). Can you?

It's not quite as great a video as "Original Wrapper," although it's a damn sight better than the cringe-inducing "My Red Joystick" (also filmed somewhere in Manhattan) or the freakishly gruesome "No Money Down."

In any case, in the wake of Reed's untimely death late last year, a whole crop of high quality Lou Reed vids have been posted on YouTube. Go check'em out.

Enjoy this trip back through time. And don't settle for walkin'.

Even Closer .... To the Edit

I’d originally planned to write a rapturously detailed post about where I was and what I was doing the first time I heard the 1984 single, “Close (To the Edit)” by the Art of Noise, potentially regaling readers with how the fact that its placement on a roadtrip mixtape of mine at the time managed to rile the shit out of some of my stuffy, Grafeful Dead-loving cousins (“fuck is THIS shit?”), only convincing me further of its utter brilliance.

But you don’t need me to tell you all that. If you had ears and a brain in 1984, you knew “Close (To the Edit)” was the sound of the future. Thirty years later, while it sounds quaintly dated, “Close (To the Edit)” remains a remarkably produced piece of music.

And then, of course, there’s the video, which packed an equally bizarre, Dadaist punch to the beat-heavy bombast of Art of Noise’s score. Who are those three demolition dudes? Is that the band? Why are they destroying everything? Who’s the little punkette?

Obviously, it was awesome. Let's review, shall we?

 Why am I discussing any of this now? Well, I only recently learned that the video for “Close (To the Edit)” was not filmed in Art of Noise’s native England, as I’d initially assumed, but rather right here in New York City. Shot by Zbigniew Rybczynski, the same maverick director responsible for similarly-inclined clips by Lady Pank's "Minus Zero," Lou Reed's "Original Wrapper" and Belfegore's "All That I Wanted," the action in “Close (To the Edit)” takes place on a stretch of what is now a posh, well-traveled public park. That’s right, that garbage-strewn, urban wasteland is none other than The High Line.

Anyway, this is evidently old news. There are several blog posts out there detailed to same. In any case, I was out and about last weekend with my kids, and tried to divine the spot of the final shot of the video, using my daughter Charlotte as a stand-in for the little hellion in pink. See what ya think....

The original....

 ....and our attempt.

'We Watched Them Going Nowhere ... Kicking a Football'

I was going to pen another vitriolic post about the Super Bowl, but realized I've done that here several times before. As such, I'll just let Killing Joke sum up my feelings...