Flaming Pablum

'Do The Get Down': The Most NYC video ever made?

Late into 2014, much was made about Taylor Swift’s richly derided song “Welcome To New York,” along with her strenuously dubious appointment as the city’s new cultural ambassador (ultimately a roiling crock of shit, but whatever). The backlash was predictably swift and merciless … which is exactly as it should’ve been. I weighed in, of course.

In the wake of that, I started compiling a list of better NYC anthems in anticipation of an official video for “Welcome To New York,” but — last I checked — one never arrived. I had several likely candidates lined up to cite, but after a while — the moment passed, and I rightly forgot about it.

Earlier this week, however, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion unleashed their video for “Do the Get Down,” a new track off their excellently titled forthcoming album Freedom Tower No Wave Dance Party 2015. Simply put, it just might be the most NYC video of all time.

Instead of merely stitching together shots of locations (not that there’s anything wrong with that), “Do The Get Down” is a visual love letter to New York City’s colorful cultural past more than just its architecture and topography. Spliced together like the samples on Paul’s Boutique by the Beastie Boys come images of old New York signage, pre-Disney Times Square, MTV’s “The Real Word,” SWANS, Jay-Z, the Wu-Tang Clan, Lung Leg, Jim Jarmusch’s “Permanent Vacation,” shots of an open air NYHC gig in Tompkins Square Park, Lydia Lunch, Nick Zedd, Rudy Giuliani, Public Enemy, “The Uncle Floyd Show,” sensationalist New York Post headlines, graffiti-slathered subway cars, Tom Verlaine of Television, The Fat Boys, breakdancing, Martin Scorsese’s “After Hours,” heroin, the Tompkins Square Park riots, “Wall Street,” Basquiat circa “Downtown `81,” the Club Kids, the Ramones on “The Joe Franklin Show,” a vintage “Plato’s Retreat” ad, CBGB, the New York Dolls, Patti Smith, the Dead Boys, Talking Heads, “The Robyn Byrd Show,” Crazy Eddie, Lou Reed’s ad for Honda Scooters in front of the Bottom Line, Tom Synder, Andy Warhol and Nico, “Taxi Driver,” “The Wanderers,” Alan Vega of Suicide, “The Warriors,” David “Son of Sam” Berkowitz, scenes from the blackout, “Midnight Cowboy, “ the Velvet Underground and more….

In fact, to my mind, the only things noticeably absent were maybe the Beastie Boys, Blondie, Cop Shoot Cop, Missing Foundation, Bella Abzug, Ed Koch, David Dinkins and maybe Al Goldstein (unless I missed them).

It’s practically everything I hold dear about New York City in one three minute clip. It's insane.

Enough of my yackin’ about it….. Enjoy “Do the Get Down”…

Save Manitoba's

This is already making the rounds, but being that I’m a slavish fan of The Dictators (that’s them below, captured by the great Ebet Roberts circa 1978), legendary lead singer Handsome Dick Manitoba and the bar that bears his good name on Avenue B, Manitoba’s, it seemed worth throwing in my paltry two cents.

Manitoba’s has been having trouble with its neighbors for a long time now. I first mentioned it here on Flaming Pablum as far back as 2007. I’m relatively certain this is about the same neighbors, but Handsome Dick’s establishment was just forced to settle a case with an individual for an unwieldy amount of money that might ultimately spell the demise of the fabled bar.

If you’re unfamiliar with Manitoba’s (I dunno, maybe you’re from out of town?), it’s one of the last strongholds of legitimate New York City punk rock left in Manhattan. But even if you’re not a fan of gritty, unfettered, high decibel rock and its accompanying `tude, Manitoba’s is just simply a great, cool, intimate bar. Being a father of two little kids, I’m not let off my leash to go to the bars all that often, but when I am, Manitoba’s is usually high up on my list of necessary destinations. 

In any case, as a result of their unfortunate circumstances — and listen to me, in the wake of 2014, I know all about unfortunate circumstances — Manitoba’s is reaching out to its fans and supporters and asking for a little helpful appreciation for their efforts in the form of some cash donations. Check out their indiegogo page.

Do the right thing and help out if you can, or Manitoba’s may tragically join the ranks of Max Fish, the Mars Bar, CBGB and countless other places of genuine NYC character that are no longer on our map.

Read more about Handsome Dick Manitoba here.

My favorite Dictators track….

Sound of The Streets

I was fleetingly reminded this morning of a video that I had an inkling that I’d posted some long expanse of time ago, and became consumed with tracking it down. In doing so, I found myself combing through virtually every single early post of mine from 2005 until 2008, which was somewhat sobering. Suffice to say, upon re-appraisal, I’d suggest that the first three years of Flaming Pablum are the very antithesis of crucial reading. You may beg to differ, but if so you are being strenuously charitable. I don’t think I really found my stride — much less my footing — until 2008 at the earliest.

ANYway, I found what I was looking for, that being “Ear to the Ground” by percussive performer David Van Tieghem. Obviously, the original film was meant to showcase the inventive rhythmatist’s music, but I was originally struck more by the film’s capturing of the endearingly desolate and somewhat ramshackle environs of the SoHo, TriBeCa and Chinatown of the early 80’s. I also really dug that Killing Joke made a cameo (in the form of a poster on a Broadway wall at around 00:49 into the clip). Here it is again….

As it turns out, Van Tieghem made a sequel to “Ear to the Ground” in 1987 and titled it “Ear-Responsible.” Once again, the streets of New York City act as his drum kit. Here `tis….

If you go David Van Tieghem’s own site, meanwhile, you can see a wider array of his work on video, including this Japanese ad for Sony cassettes. Take a look at that…

Here’s where I get incredibly minutia-laden. In watching the above clip, my heart skipped a beat when I spotted the GODDAMN STENCIL I wasted lots of bandwidth moaning about back in 2013 (see below, just to the lower left of Van Tieghem). I finally found a reproduction of it here. 

Clearly, I need to get out more.

No Telling, Only Joking: Back to the No-Tell Motel

I’m sticking with sort of a theme here. Just across the way from the Korova Milk Bar used to be the No-Tell Motel….

I fleetingly mentioned this particular watering hole last week in my round-up of favorite photographs by Hank O’Neal. Here’s his shot of the exterior one more time.

To be honest, I’m not sure how long the No-Tell Motel was in existence. I believe I first darkened its doors at some point in the early 90’s after attending a show just up the block at Brownie’s (which is now called HI-Fi).

It’s seems slightly laborious to point this out now, but at the time, this stretch of the East Village wasn’t quite the insufferable strip of fratty douchebaggery that it is today. That said, I’m sure long-time residents of Avenue A might have been equally annoyed by No-Tell Motel and Brownie’s patrons as they currently are by patrons of Diablo (what the No-Tell space is today) and Hi-Fi. I mean, loud drunks are loud drunks, regardless of their sartorial flair, sensibility and taste in music.

Yep, the No-Tell Motel dates back to the East Village’s dying-embers-days as an arguably more bohemian neighborhood (although Avenue A in the early 90’s was already a much safer and accessible place then it had been but a decade earlier). As such, much like the afore-cited Korova Milk Bar, the No-Tell Motel initially catered to the same indie and “alt.rock” set that would have crammed into Brownie’s. Though a distant cry from the lawless badlands era of A7, there was still a whiff of that punky vibe.

Said vibe might also explain why — in 1994 — the publicity department of Zoo records (a then-subsidiary of BMG) figured it would be the ideal venue wherein to conduct a set of interviews for the local “rock press” (of which I was a tenuous member at the time) with storied British post-punk stalwarts Killing Joke.

By 1994, I was gradually distancing myself from full-time “rock journalism,” but still kept my hand in for certain projects. Obviously, with Killing Joke being (and remaining) my all-time favorites, I leapt at the chance to interview them.

So, one appointed afternoon, I sped down to Avenue A with my trusty, hand-held tape recorder and into the No-Tell Motel, which was an odd place to visit during daylight hours.

At the time, the ranks of Killing Joke were filled by perennial mainstay and inimitable taskmaster Jaz Coleman, his effortlessly cool and regally bequiffed foil, guitarist Geordie Walker and prodigal bassist-turned-hotly-touted-produer Martin “Youth” Glover, back in the fold after over a decade away. After some rudimentary pleasantries with the publicist, I was sat with Youth, who was perched against the bar’s front window, sifting happily through a container of aromatic Indian grub.

To the layperson, the specifics of this interview probably aren’t of that much interest. Suffice to say, this was around the era of the release of Killing Joke’s excellent Pandemonium. Youth, easily the chattiest and most accessible of the trio, was characteristically affable, thoughtful and quite possibly very stoned. Geordie was intimidatingly cool and somewhat distracted by the No-Tell Motel’s video monitor over the bar, which was showing endless loops of vintage porn (“Oooh, she’s got a nice one!”). At some point in the course of my chat with Geordie, he started physically examining my tape-recorder. This is something worth remembering.

Frontman Jaz Coleman was late to proceedings, but entered the No-Tell Motel towards the end of my exchange with Geordie, cutting a strikingly odd figure in all denim. For my chat with Jaz, we were escorted to the back room.

Even if I hadn’t been the slavishly fawning fanboy that I was, Jaz is a formidable interview subject. Invariably sensing my nervousness, the singer swiftly assumed the reins of the discussion in suitably magisterial fashion and proceeded to wax rhapsodic about…well….pretty much whatever was on his mind.

When I look back at this incident now, I’m quite amazed that I managed to summon the sheer foolhardiness to do it, but at one point when Jaz paused in his sweeping narrative, I butted in with a question. “To some of your critics,” I began, “ it seems that you must be sort of a ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf’ figure, being that you’ve been predicting an apocalypse for some time now that patently refuses to occur…..” I could hear these words leaving my mouth as I watched Jaz Coleman’s already-piercing eyes bug out wide. I began to stammer as I saw all the humor drain from his face. I immediately started backpedalling furiously. For a few tense moments there, I started genuinely fearing for some sort of reprisal, but after some uncomfortable moments of deeply incredulous bluster, Jaz calmed back down and we finished up our interview.

I thanked one and all and ducked out of the No-Tell Motel, having just met, chatted with and — fleetingly — insulted my heroes.

Upon arriving home, I discovered that Geordie had slyly rewound the tape recorder after our chat — effectively erasing all of my exchange with him and Youth. The moral of this story: Never let go of your tape recorders, kids.

Anyway, I can’t help but think of that afternoon whenever I walk down that particular plot of Avenue A.

I’m not certain when it shut its doors, but the No-Tell Motel is long gone in 2015, replaced, as I said, by what is now Diablo (although I think it might have been something else in between, at some point).

After I posted that photo of Hank O’Neal’s last week, a reader name Steve T. wrote to me, and attached the photo of the No-Tell Motel’s business card below. “Sleazy Fun for Everyone” indeed….

Lastly, I tried to find more images, but came up largely short. That said, I did find this tiny shot of the back room from an ancient copy of New York Magazine. This is the room I played with fire talking with Jaz Coleman in, although I don’t remember it being this well lit.

Lastly, this is Killing Joke from that era….

Back to the Korova Milk Bar

While scouring the `net again today looking for scraps of information for another post, I came upon a curious item for sale on Amazon, of all places…. a commemorative fridge magnet from the Korova Milk Bar at 200 Avenue A.

Named somewhat laboriously after the favorite hang-out of Alex and his merry gang of Droogs in “A Clockwork Orange,” the Korova Milk Bar wasn’t in operation for that long. While the cinematic theme may have indeed appealed to self-styled punky nogoodnicks keen on living out some sort of dystopian fantasy, the actual execution of said theme was both heavy-handed and, sorry, a bit schlocky.

I mean, yes….I get it. I am a devout fan of both Burgess’ book and Kubrick’s film, but there was something so tired, so obvious, so cloyingly contrived and not-quite-clever-enough about this iteration of the Korova Milk Bar (as I’m dead certain there are droves of others copping the same concept) that it never really gelled. The place closed up shop in 2006. I doubt too many tears were shed.

In any case, the thing that struck me about this wasn’t so much the idea of a Korova Milk Bar fridge magnet, but rather the copy they bookended it with. The full pitch reads as follows:

Korova Milk Bar East Village Magnet Circa 2001 No Tell Motel Alcatraz CBGB King Tuts Wah Wah Hut The Bank The Pyramid Lower East Side Alphabet City Limelight

Alright, fair enough — the Korova Milk Bar was indeed sort of a contemporary element to places like the No Tell Motel (just across the way …. more about that place soon) and maybe Alcatraz on St. Mark’s Place (although I want to say that Alcatraz closed well prior to Korova Milk Bar’s opening), but to cite CBGB, King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, The Bank, The Pyramid and the Limelight in the same breath as the Korova Milk Bar seems a bit disingenuous.

Sure, it was yet another downtown watering hole, but Korova Milk Bar didn’t have a fraction of the character or impact of those other places. That probably sounds a bit precious, but it’s a bit like equating Avril Lavigne with Foetus or Richard Hell, as far as I’m concerned.

That all said, I suppose I shouldn’t be too harsh and damning about the Korova Milk Bar. As much of a wananbe as it may have been, it wasn’t a third as annoying as Superdive, the hotly contest bar the space would soon become after Korova’s closing.

You can read more about that incarnation (not a joint I ever visited) over at EV Grieve.

The Party in the Park? Searching for the Chase Park Lounge

Ever since watching the new Nick Cave documentary-of-sorts, “20,000 Days on Earth,” I’ve been on a bit of a Birthday Party/Bad Seeds kick. I’ve always been a fan, but dropped off somewhere around No More Shall We Part, only to plug back in again circa the first Grinderman e.p. (and then only to be left uninspired by his most recent work, Push The Sky Away, which I should probably re-visit).

In any case, in exhuming some of my favorite bits of Cave’s quite substantial catalog, I found myself perusing a Birthday Party gig history on this archive site and was struck by something curious.

During their maiden voyage to New York City, the ferocious Birthday Party evidently played a few gigs around town, notably at an "upmarket rock disco" called The Underground in Union Square, a couple of abortive gigs at the Ritz on East 11th Street, a night at the West 45th street incarnation of The Peppermint Lounge and — most curiously — two dates at a venue I have no recollection of called The Chase Park Lounge.

I immediately did a bit of googling, but frankly came up with absolutely nothing. The only links that came up were links back to various other Birthday Party gig accounts.

Here, meanwhile, is a review of one of the gigs at this mysterious venue by a churlish 16-year-old named Larry. Click on it to enlarge and read...

Okay, so I’m entirely stumped. I realize that live music venues in New York City come and go like sands in the hour glass, but I feel there must be some other evidence of this place’s existence.

Anyone remember The Chase Park Lounge? Weigh in.

Here, meanwhile, is the Birthday Party in their prime…. 

Lastly, this seems like a good point to brag that NICK CAVE LOVES ME!!! 

Stitched Up in `95

If I’m being honest, I was never a big fan of the L.E.S. Stitches. They shared a lot of bills, it seems, with bands I was a fan of, at places like Coney Island High and the Continental, but there was something about them that was so adherent to the tonsorial and sartorial parameters of “punk rawk, maaaan,” that it seemed a little too contrived for my tastes (not unlike the similarly inclined D Generation).

That said, It must seem a bit rich for someone as hopelessly nostalgic as myself to be lambasting a band for being too unabashedly retro. They just didn’t seem to bring anything new to the discussion, y’know? Ahh, what do I know…. they at least got out there and did it. What the hell did I ever do? 

Anyway, apropos of absolutely nothing, I found myself dialing up some Stitches on YouTube and — who knew? — they actually made a couple of proper videos. While I haven’t really changed my tune about the band, I enjoyed this particular clip — entitled “Could Just Die” — in that it unwittingly captured some downtown locations that, twenty years later, either don’t exist anymore or simply aren’t recognizable.

Keep your eyes out for The Scrap Bar, The Continental, Sophie’s, the stoop of 36 East 4th Street (across from what is now Swift’s), The New York Marble Cemetery and more…

Back to the Rivington School

Okay, this is a bit of a weird one. Inspired by Hank O’Neal’s photos from that last post (that's one of his above), I dug up the videos below of The Rivington School.

As I understand it, The Rivington School was technically a loose collective of artists who put up these massive guerilla sculpture gardens, not too different from the old Gas Station on Avenue B. Here's a shot by Toyo Tsuchiya of it circa 1986.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what these first two videos are all about. This first one is the Plexus group having a “deconstruction event” at The Rivington School at some point in 1989.

Keep your eyes out for an appearance by Arto Lindsay of DNA and The Lounge Lizards...

Here’s another from 1986, this one featuring the music of Ritual Tension...

Lastly, here’s another episode of Rik Little’s “The Church of Shooting Yourself.” I wrote a little bit about this program back on this post, but essentially, “The Church of Shooting Yourself” was kind of a proto-video blog (consider Rik Little the evil twin of Nelson Sullivan), which captured the somewhat bug-eyed, largely paranoid ramblings of Little as he traversed downtown Manhattan with his trusty video camera. I don’t know if it was shtick or not, but it frequently made for compelling viewing back in the day.

I’m not sure when this particular clip was shot, but after some frankly disturbing footage of police in riot gear strong-arming and subduing someone, Rik then appears at the remains of the Rivington School’s sculpture garden, and he (kinda) discusses its demise. Once again — if you’re only familiar with these streets from the past fifteen or twenty years, you may not recognize these places at all…..

Step Back in Time in Hank O'Neal's NYC

If you want to see a nostalgic NYC blogger light up like a pinball machine, present him or her with a cache of vintage NYC pics.

Yesterday, Jeremiah Moss of Vanishing New York did just that, by introducing his readers to the photography of Hank O’Neal, largely concentrating on the New York City of the 1980’s. Jeremiah and I have found a few collections like this one over the years, but this was is staggeringly good.

The “oh WOW” factor runs high amidst O’Neal’s pictures, as he’s captured myriad distinctive sights from our since-completely-gentrified city. You really need to spend some time going through them individually, but I pulled out a few selections from his collection that hearken back to some posts here in Flaming Pablum.

Fist up, here’s a great shot from 1981 of the former exterior of the performance art space, The Kitchen on the the corner of Wooster and Broome down in SoHo. I scribbled some stuff about same here and here.

Here’s a shot of the “face behind the bars” — somewhere on West Broadway, I believe — that I wrote about here.

Here’s a shot of long-lost punky vinyl outfit Wowsville on Second Avenue just south of St. Marks Place. My friend Rob and I once unsuccessfully tried to purchase a massive Ramones print here, which ended oddly. I wrote about Wowsville here and here.

Here are a couple of shots of XOXO, formerly across from the Mars Bar on First Street, which I wrote in greater depth about here and here. Note the signature Missing Foundation graffito on the front (rife among O'Neal's shots of the L.E.S.)

Here’s the original site of Downtown Music Gallery on East 5th Street (then adjacent to the Scratcher). I wrote more about this great shop here and here.

Here's a quick shot from since-torn-down One Union Square. I love this shot as it features two Rock Hotel flyers (Murphy's Law and Circus of Power). I wrote more about the Rock Hotel here.

 

Lastly, here’s a passing shot of a bar on Avenue A called the Notell Motel, which was just down a door or two from Brownie’s (now Hi-Fi). I don’t believe I’ve ever posted about it, but I once interviewed three members of Killing Joke at the Notell Motel. For that alone, it remains a special place for me.

This is just a smattering of images from O'Neal's page. Go soak it up, specifically his albums about New York City, the East Village and his massive collection from the Lower East Side.

For more great vintage NYC pics, but sure to also check out....

Gregoire Alessandrini's New York City 1990's
Manel Armengol's pictures
The New York University Archives

....and my own Flickr page.

Lurie & The Law

Frequent visitors to this here blog may remember an episode from back in 2012 when I posted an entry about musician, painter, actor and perpetual cool cat John Lurie, only to have the great man himself weigh in and set me straight on a few things. It all ended well, thankfully, and Lurie sent me a now-cherished copy of the long-out-of-print Lounge Lizards album, Voice of Chunk.

In any case, earlier this week, Lurie penned a brief piece for the New York Daily News about New York City’s current relationship with its police force. In it, John recounts a telling experience from when he lived on East Third Street at the dawn of the 80’s — a period when the East Village wasn’t quite as hospitable as today’s incarnation. It’s well worth a read — do so here.

This also serves as a handy excuse to exhume this clip of The Lounge Lizards performing "Voice of Chunk" on Jools Holland's "Night Music" in 1989. The gent on bass, by the way, is Erik Sanko...who'd later go on to front the amazing Skeleton Key.