Flaming Pablum

Punked Out: Goodbye to the Old St. Marks

Last weekend, I paid a most-likely final visit to the picked-over ruins of St. Marks Sounds, whose very last day is “probably tomorrow.” They continued to not sell me those Misfits and Plasmatics posters I’ve been asking for since about 1983, but I did bring an arguably rare Soul Coughing promo to the counter. “Just take it,” they said, “…and have a good one.”

While I hadn’t really considered Sounds to have been a crucial shop for some time now, I did indeed feel a bit of remorse as I walked down the steps of that storied stoop for the last time and back onto St. Marks Place.

Between Sounds' shuttering and the impending relocation of Trash & Vaudeville just up the block, we seem to be seeing the final gasp of St. Marks’ incarnation as a destination for a certain variant of music fan.

While, true, you can still buy a wide array of silly rock t-shirts at the otherwise-innocuous Funky Town or spend an inordinately high sum of money on punky regalia at Search & Destroy, both shops are comparative newcomers on that strip of St. Marks, dating back to the mid-90’s (an era that still seems deceptively recent to the naive likes of me).

But more than places to just buy stuff, Sounds and Trash & Vaudeville both exuded such senses of place. Hell, back in the 80’s, Sounds was a just a great spot to simply hang out at, whether you intended to buy anything there or not. I remember being yet another brat sitting on that stoop for hours on end, just soaking up the vibe of the street, and I remember salvaging a blind date in the early 90’s that was in grave peril of death-by-ennui until we repaired to the aisles of Sounds (which, once upon a time, always seemed to be open, day or night) to discover a mutual-if-begrudging affinity for Shout at the Devil by Motley Crue.

Meanwhile, Trash & Vaudeville -- captured above circa 1983 by the great Godlis -- just seemed to sum it all up. Sure, nowadays, they’re not entirely cheap either, but their t-shirt selection remains pretty unimpeachable, be you a fan of certain eras of UK and NYC punk rock.

Immortalized in an opening montage of visceral New York sights in the 1983-84 season of “Saturday Night Live,” that neon “TRASH” sign seemed to embody the snarling heart of St. Marks Place. I will be genuinely incredulous when that sign goes away (even if only a block or so to the south).

Much like the stoop at Sounds, the stoop at 4 St. Marks Place — just adjacent to the entrance of Trash & Vaudeville — also used to be an invitation to loiter. As discussed recently in this post, I’m hoping author Ada Calhoun will delve into the historical minutia of some of these addresses, but 4 St. Marks Place used to be a permanent perch for teenage punks. I’m reminded of the 1980 photo below by Dave 'Daze' Parsons of Rat Cage Records of the Virus kids (whose ranks, for a time, included Jack Natz … later of Cop Shoot Cop), hanging out on 4’s stoop. I also love the “SAMO” tag behind them,….the work of the roving Jean-Michel Basquiat, along with the brazenly ignored "NO LOITERING" stencil.

In scrounging around on this subject, I came across this other great shot circa 1985 of the stoop at 4 St. Marks, credited to the New York Historical Society.

Keen-eyed minutia-heads might spot tattered flyers on the door behind the “people in punk-type clothing” (as Getty calls them) for Von LMO, SWANS and the Midnight Records Fuzz Fest (see that flyer below).

Granted, it’s a bit much to be lamenting the demise of all things punk in 2015. As I mentioned in this ancient post, that ship left the dock some time ago, and St. Marks Place (and its surrounding East Village) has continued to (d)evolve for better or worse. I just find it a bit sad that its last vestiges are gradually being squeezed out like zits to accommodate a bland, new future.

What will take the places of Sounds and Trash & Vaudeville once they are gone? What concerns will occupy those spaces? Will they be reduced to hosts for a veritable parade of doomed ventures (like the former site of Mondo Kim’s)? We shall see.

Will, like the swallows that used to flock to the cliffs of Capistrano, the kids who still adhere to the dubious protocols of punk dutifully come back to St. Marks? Would there be any point?

After all, nobody sits on the stoop of number 4 anymore.

'Back Then, Nobody Went to Brooklyn!'

There’s a great line in “What Happened to Smith?” by Life in a Blender, one of my favorite anti-gentrication anthems (about Brooklyn, no less) wherein vocalist Don “Ralph” Rauf, incensed by the encroachment of insufferable affluents into his age-old neighborhood, loudly laments “I’ll wait it out by the Gowanus, I’ll wait for the scene to shift. I’ll take the stench of the canal, over what happened to Smith.”

Gowanus. The very name is a grim punchline, conjuring images of a desolate, polluted industrial wasteland, an unimpeachable no-go zone.

It was for arguably this very reason that maverick producer Martin Bisi first opened his fabled recording studio, BC Studio, in Gowanus in 1979. The urban decay and virtual lawlessness of the area in that era made the East Village just across the river seem like Club Med, but it was here that Bisi and a coterie of like-minded individuals forged a hotbed of experimental sound, unwittingly giving birth to Hip Hop and a haven for New York’s once-burgeoning post-punk scene, ruled by Sonic Youth, SWANS, Foetus and, of course, Cop Shoot Cop.

As you may have heard by this point, there is now an excellent documentary out about BC Studio directed by Ryan Douglas and Sara Leavitt. From the first moment I heard about it last year, I was totally psyched for it, being that so many of my favorite records were inexorably linked to Martin Bisi’s story. In any event, it’s out now, and you can rent or buy it off YouTube, I believe. If you’re a fan of the crap I’m in awe of like Cop Shoot Cop and SWANS, it’s mandatory viewing. SEEK IT OUT.

Here’s the trailer.

In any case, I finally got to see it today, and it’s fucking amazing. But there was one little detail that just about blew me right off the porch, and it comes with a backstory.

As mentioned in this very windy post, I first became aware of New York City’s own Cop Shoot Cop back at the dawn of the 90’s. I’d initially been assigned to interview the then-notorious ensemble by a free weekly called New York Perspectives (long dead). Contrary to their fearsome reputation, I found the guys in the band to be thoughtful, grounded and funny individuals, and I became a swift and ardent fan of theirs, catching their shows at a variety of since-closed divey music venues. This being back during a more fertile age for music, the East Village and the Lower East Side in general were awash in gig flyers (much like the ones I collected from the Rock Hotel).

Anyway, around the release of their second album, White Noise, Cop Shoot Cop played a gig at CBGB. The band was renowned for their eye-catching, provocative gig posters — often utilizing bits of striking, inflammatory imagery, and the poster for this particular show was no different. I remember a tattered copy of it being pasted up on a disused notice board outside the forbidding edifice of that since-condemned public school on East 4th between First Avenue and Avenue A. The art utilized a bit of an Anime/Manga cartoon of a screaming, angry face behind bars, with COP SHOOT COP and CBGB displayed in a bold, angular font. It was quite a striking bit of art, and I coveted it.

The trouble was, they were gone almost overnight, either ripped down or covered up by other posters. That shredded one on East 4th Street was impossible to prize (and actually stayed up for several years before the notice board itself was dismantled for whatever reason).

I became friends with the guys in Cop Shoot Cop, and former vocalist/bassist Tod [A] even gave me an armful of old posters and flyers of theirs at one point, but this one was not among them, frustratingly.

In the ensuing years, that single Cop Shoot Cop poster became something of a holy grail for me, but I simply never saw it again. Tod [A] didn’t even remember it (and he did most if not all of the poster designs).

Maybe I’d dreamt it??

But then, as I’m watching “Sound and Chaos: The Story of BC Studio,” there comes a discussion of a particular happening at the studio wherein Cop Shoot Cop and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion partook in some sort of jam session. In a bit of archival footage from the event, they show a snippet of an interview with Spencer, and what’s on the wall behind the couch they’re sitting on?? THAT GODDAMN POSTER!!

Here it is closer up….albeit only the bottom half.

Anyway, that really blew a new part in my hair. If you have a copy of this poster — get in touch, `COS I WANT IT

Back to the Bandshell: False Prophets at Rock Against Racism, 1988

I’ve written about False Prophets before (most recently here). I’ve also penned some posts about the old Rock Against Racism shows in Central Park (notably here and here). In any case, at the bottom of this post is a clip of False Prophets playing that same Rock Against Racism showcase in May of 1988 in Central Park, opening for Nausea. George Tabb is still in their ranks here, fresh from his formative days in Roach Motel, and soon to de-camp to join Letch Patrol, Iron Prostate and, later, Furious George (among others … ever the prolific punk).

The video quality is really top drawer (for 1988), finding the inimitable Stephan Ielpi in classic, surrealist agitator form. Below is the original flyer for the gig in question. Also on the bill were storied NYC ska-vets The Toasters (who I wrote about here) and fledgling hip-hoppers Stetsasonic, who scored a hit that same year with “All That Jazz.”

Actually, here’s a not-so-quick aside about Stetsasonic…

I remember going to the the New Music Seminar in 1990 (about two years after this Rock Against Racism show) and attending one of their panels (this at a gigantic hotel on Times Square whose name escapes me). Among this panel’s participants were Ice Cube (who left early), Queen Latifah and Peter Hook, then still of New Order (although, at the time, I suppose he was in the throes of promoting his ill-fated side-project, Revenge). This esteemed gaggle of musicians were all gathered on a dais in this main conference hall, tasked with discussing the state of the music business at the time.

At some point in the discussion, the topic of “bootlegging” was introduced, prompting a spirited round of debate. There was, however, something of a fundamental misunderstanding going on. At the time in New York City, there was a rash of street vendors hawking cheap-o ripoff (i.e. home-burned) copies of various hit albums on compact disc (usually Hip Hop). These shoddy knockoff CD's were awkwardly referred to as “bootlegs,” not to be confused with the older definition, which referred to covertly recorded documents of concerts (of the sort fanatically collected and traded by Deadheads). In any case, Queen Latifah — as was her wont, I suppose — was roundly outspoken in her disapproval of bootlegging, whereas Peter Hook — invariably thinking everyone was talking conventional bootlegs (i.e. concert recordings) took more of a “what’s the big deal?” stance. In any case, they got well into it, and Peter Hook (of whom I was and remain a major fan) said something cheekily dismissive of Queen Latifah — which prompted me, standing in the back of the room, to snort and laugh loudly. This, in turn, prompted a phalanx of gentlemen standing in front of me to all whip their heads around and glare venomously at me (presumably for showing disrespect to Queen Latifah). I suddenly found myself being stared down by the ranks of Stetsasonic.

It was awkward, but nothing happened. To be fair, Stetsasonic were pretty great. Check out their video for “All That Jazz,” finding them posing manfullly all around upper Manhattan.

Anyway, back to the False Prophets clip. If you enjoy it, there are about five others. Unlike many of their scene-peers, False Prophets never really hit the big time, so to speak (not that it was necessarily their intention to). I believe Stephen still fronts an incarnation of the band today. Nausea, meanwhile, broke-up around 1992, and I’ve heard from a reliable source that Amy from Nausea (formerly married to Agnostic Front’s Roger Miret) is now a doctor ( … and, strangely, now a Republican). The Toasters are still going in one form or another. Stetsasonic initially broke up in 1991 (doubtlessly divided by their decision whether or not to pound me into submission), but then evidently reconvened in 2008.

But here, meanwhile, is another glimpse of that Spring afternoon in Central Park....

The Hoboken Bias: Thurston Moore Disses Bleecker Bob’s

Disclaimer: If you’re understandably turned off by old, greying, crotchedy dudes bitching about since-closed record stores, stop reading now. Boom. There’s your warning.

I don’t think I ever saved so much money as when I stopped buying those beefy British music monthlies like Mojo, Q and all the rest of them. For eons, I’d dutifully pick them up. They were simply a joy to read — beautifully written, informative, funny, etc. For a slavishly anglophilic music geek like myself, they were hard to say ‘no’ to. That said, they were — and remain — totally too goddamn expensive. Given my continuing lack of employment, they were the first item to go on the belt-tightening list.

That said, I do cheat and pick one up every now and again. There was a lovely-albeit-not-especialy-insightful feature on Killing Joke in the latest Uncut (I always thought that title sounded a bit porny). Likewise, I couldn’t resist picking up the latest issue of Mojo (with Patti Smith on the cover), given the promise of features on the Cocteau Twins and an essay on the ‘noise rock’ of 1985, penned by Thurston Moore (pictured above in fetching SWANS shirt). How could I turn that down?

In paging through same, however, I noticed a curious little paragraph wherein Thurston waxed rhapsodic about the technologically primitive age of 1985…

There was no internet, and you found about bands via fanzines and record stores, which were really important. Pier Platters in Hoboken was the only record store in New York hip to this new music — Bleecker Bob’s certainly wasn’t — and you’d go there to hang out, listen to records and find out who’s who.

Alrighty, Thurston, hold the goddamn phone.

For a start, last time I checked, Hoboken — despite its close proximity — is not in New York City. Secondly, to say that Pier Platters — fine shop though it was — was “the only record store in New York hip to this new music” is also a bit of a stretch. Thirdly, why shit on Bleecker Bob’s?

Let’s review.

It should be remembered that Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley was a Hoboken resident (and may have even been a Pier Platters employee at one point, if I’m not mistaken). This would handily explain Moore’s bias towards the store.

And, again, as great as Pier Platters was, to suggest that it alone was the stronghold for the burgeoning noise-rock/piguck/post-hardcore/American indie scene is a bit revisionist. And while it’s commendable to be a loyal consumer, genuine music heads tended to scour whole networks of shops — not simply patronize a single establishment.

Off the top of my head, I’d suggest that Rocks in Your Head in SoHo (now a real estate agency), 99 Records in Greenwich Village (now a comedy club), Venus Records on West 8th Street (now a foot rub parlor) and FreeBeing off St. Marks Place (now a tanqueria) all more than held their own in keeping up with what was going on.

Back to Bleecker Bob’s, Thurston’s shade-throwing isn’t that surprising. Lots of folks demurred from shopping at Bleecker Bob’s, given fabled owner Bleecker Bob Plotnick’s less-that-always-personable style. That said, I vividly remember Bleecker Bob’s prominently displaying Sonic Youth’s “Star Power” 12” upon its 1986 release (I may have even bought my copy there). So, ease the Hell up, Thurston.

Don’t get me wrong, once again — I’m not knocking Pier Platters. It was indeed a great spot. If you’d exhausted the shops of lower Manhattan, it was a simple PATH train ride away, initially close enough to the station to the point where you’d barely have to penetrate the byways of Hoboken (unless, of course, you were headed for Maxwell’s….also gone). I have very fond memories of prizing my copy of Pussy Galore’s Dial ‘M’ For Motherfucker in its comparatively cramped little space.

I’ll defer to more-knowledgable Hobokenauts for this one, but I want to say there was a second incarnation of Pier Platters later on (before it, too, closed).

In case you’re too much of a whippersnapper or were too young to make it across the river to Pier Platters, check out this great little video of Daniel Johnston (another beloved and eccentric figure of the mid-80’s indie scene) performing therein circa 1988). Today, much like Rocks in Your Head, the space that the original Pier Platters shop occupied is now a real estate agency.

 More about beloved record shops on Flaming Pablum here:

Great Since-Closed Record Shops
Where the Music Used to Live
Where the Music Used to Live: Slight Return
Where the Music Lived: Remastered Extra Tracks
Where the Music Lived: REMIX
Can't Get This Stuff No More: Music Shopping in `95
Late for Lunch: The Demise of the Manhattan Music Shop Circuit

Going Above Ground in `82

Sticking with the early 80's theme here (ala yesterday's post), here's a mysterious clip I stumbled upon on YouTube.

Ostensibly a music video by a concern called Above Ground, "Coalman" repurposes some grainy, NYC footage for a cryptically arty, spray-paint-slathered three minutes of gritty, urban dystopia.

There is much the same feel here as captured in Rick Liss' amazing "No York City" (which you should watch again).

Here's the official description:

From a poem written by Stuart Page inspired by riding the subways in NYC during summer of 1982 at the peak of the graffitied trains era. 

Footage found on YouTube and re-edited. "NYC Subway Graffiti from the 1980's" by Steve Siegel. Thanks Steve!

Song originally released in 1983 on Above Ground "GONE AIWA" cassette. Hopefully to be re-issued 2011 as 12" vinyl LP on Siltbreeze Records, Philadelphia USA

The Steve Siegel cited, of course, is the man responsible for similarly apocalyptic images as the ones displayed here.

Lacking Guidance on the Bowery in 1983

A good friend of mine is currently working on a strenuously exciting archival project, although I can’t really go into any detail about it at this early stage of the proceedings. In any event, while he was generously walking me through some of it today, he showed me this other clip he’d unearthed on YouTube, and I thought it was worth sharing here.

I’m not going to lie — I really don’t know who the Misguided are (or, more likely, were). They weren’t “one of my bands,” so to speak. In fact, the only instance wherein I’ve read their name in association with the annals of hardcore punk was via a flyer that was taped up to my dormitory wall in college (one of many … see some more of them here). That flyer was this one below….which I liked more because of Jerry’s Kids and the F.U.’s (and the fact that the cartoony punk pictured is wearing a Heart Attack shirt).

In any case, according to an organization called the “Independent Network News” (where are they today, one wonders), a performance by the Misguided at CBGB during some point in 1983 seemed like the perfect opportunity to do an investigative report — of a sort — on hardcore punk, although, if truth be told, the Misguided don’t really seem especially hardcore.

Essentially, the clip is just yet another anaemic attempt by the then-mainstream media to wrap their heads around the concept of hardcore, invariably concentrating on the sartorial/tonsorial trappings and, of course, the brow-furrowing (if you were over twenty years of age at the time) practice of slam-dancing. It’s not quite as hysterical as CBS News’ coverage of Missing Foundation, but it’s not far from it —also harkening back to that fabled “Quincy” episode and setting the table for that after-school cautionary epic, 1987’s “The Day My Kid Went Punk.”

Regardless, enjoy the grainy, vintage footage of CBGB and the Bowery.

No Joy: The Search for Lou Reed's Corner in 'My Red Joystick'

Unlike some other quizzes, the challenge to divine the spot wherein the action takes place in Lou Reed’s “My Red Joystick” video from 1985 (first introduced here) has proven to be a an especially slippery one. Some even doubt that the location actually exists, suggesting instead that it’s a “Hollywood set.”

I remain on the fence.

Just for laughs, here’s that video once again….

Here’s what some have said.

Over on Facebook, tireless photo sleuth Chung Wong wrote…..

I am leaning towards this being a set too (or the street sign got moved off 6th ave)...the possibilities of a triangular building across another triangular block on 6th Ave are very limited...if the subway station is accurately by the triangular building on 6th Ave...that is even more limited in options...i kept on looking at 6th Ave and Van Dam by Spring Street Station wondering if the layout was once different. The triangular Father Fagan Park is there but i am not sure it fits.

I also wondered about 6th Ave and Grand (right side is Sullivan)...by Canal Station. But it seems too wide on the right.

Here is the background brightened up....the intersection with the most similar street sign and park bench layout is 6th Ave and broome but there is no subway station there and the background isnt the same.

Meanwhile, Bob Egan from Popspots also weighed in….

IT looks a lot like this intesection to me, although I know it isn.’t…

Here's the view from the other direction. Note the street sign in this versus the other. In real life the 6th Ave sign would never be where it is in the overhead shot. Also, interesting, it looks like you can see all the filming equipment at the top of the picture where 6th Ave would be. (Of course the city is a funny place, something like a circus or a sewer. And people have peculiar tastes...especially all the Jim-Jim's in this town)

Then Chung chimed back in….

This park or square at 6th Ave and Broome sure looks like the spot but only a subway vent is across the street (and the block across is triangular)

This is the other side of 6th Ave and Broome...but there was a car wash here before and the background building on the side street doesnt match. There is also only a subway vent (no station). Everythiing else though fits. Could it be possible the building isnt real and subway station is a prop…

Back here on Flaming Pablum, Bob expounded…

On first glance it looks like a Hollywood set, although it does seem that the subway stairs go down underground -- you can see the light at the bottom of the stairs.

It also looks like the corner of Bleecker and Minetta Street, with the action taking place on Minetta Street, though I know it isn't.

The main thing that makes it seem like a Hollywood set is that there's a rather prominent sign reading "6th Avenue - Avenue of the Americas." next to the apartment building, but the street it's on is only as wide as Minetta Street.

I just looked on Google Street view - there is a 6th Ave/Ave/America sign at that corner, but it's 20 feet away -- on 6th Avenue. I'm glad Lou finally got the joystick. (You would think he would want the Atari game machine that came with it, too)

Regular reader James Taylor also threw in his two cents…

Might it be the area around Sixth & Spring/Broome? Lots of small triangular parks and a few vacant lots if I'm not mistaken. Subway would be the A-C-E.

Lastly, a reader named Jim added:

It's a Hollywood set. It's way too narrow to 6th ave and def not MinettaLANE. Also vid was shot by a Polish director who was living in LA in 1984 at the time of Red Joystick release.

Not sure I agree with Jim here. I’m not exactly sure who directed “My Red Joystick,” but if Jim’s referring to fabled Polish director Zbigniew Rybczynski (who also directed the video for Lou’s “Original Wrapper,” along with clips by Mr. Mister, Belfegore, the Art of Noise, Yoko Ono, Circus of Power and many others), it should be noted that regardless of where Zbigniew was living, several of his clips (all of those cited above, basically) were shot in Manhattan.

Personally speaking, I'm inclined to think it's the spot on the west side of Sixth Avenue at Grand Street that Chung mentioned above (across from what had been the Moondance Diner). The building in question that would have played host to the action in this video is long gone, but I seem to remember it. I want to say it was a steak house at some stage.

Anyway, that's my guess.

No More Sounds on St. Marks

It’s been in a state of deathly decline for some time now (especially since news first came down the pike in February of 2014 that they were looking to close up shop). Since then, I’ve sporadically made it a point to go in and (try to) shop there, but they simply never had anything left I was interested in. There was that one time that I was faked out by some empty cases, but I never managed to spend a thin, red dime there (and they still weren’t interested in selling any of their fabled posters).

In any case, EV Grieve is reporting this morning that Sounds’ “Final Sale” has commenced. I suppose the owner has found a suitable tenant, and now they’re selling off (what’s left of) their stock.

Under normal circumstances, I'd probably sprint over there and haggle with the man `til I was blue in the face about getting either the “Three Hits from Hell” promo poster (supposedly bestowed upon the shop by Glen Danzig himself) or that long-covetted Plasmatics poster, but — honestly — he’s not likely to entertain those entreaties … and they’re both in fairly rough shape by this point anyway. It’s best to let it go.

As Grieve pointed out, Sounds’ closing marks the end of an era. Once Sounds is gone, there will be nowhere left on St. Marks Place to buy music in a physical capacity.

And that breaks my heart.

More about St. Marks Sounds on Flaming Pablum....

'Fishing in a Warm Place' (February 2009)
Where Wendy Still Waits (June 2013)
Faked-Out at Sounds (December 2013)
The Silence of Sounds (February 2014)
Plugged into the Matrix (February 2014)

 

Christmas Returns to Madison Square

Apologies for another relative slowdown here, but real life has got me in a choke-hold, and I’m trying to extricate myself. Look forward to posts soon regarding the (surprisingly) hotly contested whereabouts of the corner featured in Lou Reed’s anciently embarrassing video “My Red Joystick” and a rumination on a lost hive of bohemian insouciance on West 23rd Street by Eszter “Stranger Than Paradise” Balint (I didn’t actually speak with her — I wish! — but it’s an excerpt from a compelling book I read not too long back). Stick around for all that.

In the interim, I spotted something today that took me quite by surprise.

Regular readers *may* remember a couple entries I posted back in 2013 about the weathered Christmas caroler figures that were perched — since time immemorial — on the south-facing facade of what had been the Commodore Criterion between Broadway and Fifth Avenue. I first wrote about them here, then brought the story up to speed when they were finally removed here.

Some time afterwards, a friend of mine affiliated with Porcelanosa — the company that had bought the Commodore Criterion building — wrote in (as I mentioned in that last post) that Porcelanosa came into possession of the figures, and were open to ideas as to what to do with them.

Time went on, and the building went into a busy state of renovation, periodically covered with heavy scaffolding. I honestly stopped thinking about it, figuring the carolers were yet another bit of ephemera lost in the tireless spiral of urban development.

Imagine my surprise, then, today upon walking up Fifth Avenue, glancing at the newly finished Porcelanosa facade and spotting the below…..

They're back!!!

ADDENDUM: I realize the title of this post cites Madison Square (i.e. the park just across Fifth Avenue from this spot), but, technically, the square directly to the South of the Porcelanosa building is named Worth Square. I suppose one could also say "the Flatiron District," but whatever. I still think of this whole area as Madison Square. Sue me.

 

Fourteen Years Later Redux: Through Being Cruel

My favorite band released a new video last week. That’s right, the mighty Killing Joke — a name I’ve invoked here practically more times than I’ve had hot dinners — unleashed a taster from their forthcoming album Pylon, “I Am the Virus.” Replete with the pummeling rhythms of drummer Big Paul Ferguson, the chiming chug of Geordie Walker’s golden, hollow-bodied Gibson and the forbidding exhortations of vocalist Jaz Coleman, it’s a signature slice of the band’s brand of hellfire-scorched rock fury. Nothing wrong with that.

I had a few friends on Facebook, however, note how I was uncahracteristically silent on the subject on the day of the release of “I Am the Virus.” Well, not to sound melodramatic (or, at least, more melodramatic than usual), but the video was released on September 11th.

Now, I fully realize that it’s been 14 years since the events of September 11th, 2001 (as I noted here), but it’s still a very delicate day. It’s also a very unsurprisingly somber day for New Yorkers like myself. While many folks across the world watched the horrific events unfold on their televisions, countless New Yorkers saw it happen in horrific real time. Still others knew people who were personally affected in the conflagration. Some of us know people who died horribly as a result.

With this in mind, it’s not something one should really be disrespectful or flippant about, as far as I’m concerned.

In any case, “I Am the Virus” makes a passing allusion to conspiracy theories about September 11th, specifically the couplet…"No One Believes in 9/11…Steel-Frame Buildings Don’t Fall in Seconds.” It’s only that single line (although the video comes with other fleeting visual signifiers) — but it invokes the rallying point for the "Truther” community.

I don’t necessarily begrudge anyone’s opinions about the particular circumstances of that day. While I don’t feel that the general public knows — or will ever know — the genuine whole story, I don’t really subscribe to the conspiracy theories either. I’m not a “truther." I’m not condemning “truthers." I just don’t share their world view(s). More to the point, though, I just don’t think the actual day — a day when people are mourning losses from the very event — is an appropriate opportunity to air, allude to or applaud those conspiracy theories. Personally speaking, I think it’s in questionable taste. As such, I thought I would be remiss in crowing about that video on the very day. Like I said, I’m friends with people for whom the wounds of September 11th will never heal, and I will defer to them first.

Killing Joke, it should be noted, have always embraced and prescribed a policy of refusing and resisting the party line. It is absolutely no surprise at all that they’re not buying the official explanation. I have nothing but the greatest affection and respect for the members of Killing Joke, and I know that their convictions are deeply held. But, there’s a time and place for everything. At the end of the day, I just didn't think it was very appropriate or respectful of those affected by the event to air that grievance on that day. It’s also, frankly, a bit gimmicky.

But, in light of this next item, Killing Joke’s arguable infraction is small potatoes.

A member of another favorite band of mine — that being Jerry Casale, founder and bassist of DEVO (that's him up top circa 1981, from the "Beautiful World" video) — took things a step too far and actually had a September 11-themed wedding ceremony.

Yep, you read that right.

Now, even as a lifelong DEVO fan, I’m at a comptete loss over that one. As it turns out, it was one of Jerry’s friends who supposedly thought up the whole gag. That’s fine, but as folks are keen to point out, he still posed for pics. He apologized, of course, but then went onto say how this whole kerfuffle “ruined his wedding.” Umm…. shut up, Jerry.

Read the whole sorry story here.

There have been occasions after which I was unable to enjoy the music of certain artists because of stupid shit they said. As much as I love “Peace Sells But Who’s Buying?”, “Wake Up Dead” and “Symphony of Destruction” by Megadeth, Dave Mustane’s propensity for wingnut blather made his band harder and harder to defend. When he announced from a stage somewhere in Europe that he believed the Obama administration covertly orchestrated a few of the mass shootings in 2012, I washed my hands of him. Likewise, I’ve come perilously close to renouncing my love for storied Los Angeleno punk legends X, after Exene Cervenka started spouting off about her own conspiracy theories.

Everyone has lapses in judgement. Everyone makes mistakes. We all say stupid crap at one point or another. Unconventional sensibilities, satire and black humor are great, and vital in the endeavor to maintain the broadest possible perspective on things, but it’s good to remember context and consideration, especially in a world where information is instantaneously disseminated.

In short, speak your mind, vent your spleen and affect the conversation … just try to keep it classy.