Every get the feeling your life is consumed by trivia?
I’ve been fielding a lot of different reactions, in recent weeks, in regards to my admittedly ridiculous quest to nail down the location of that fabled Lunachicks photograph. Despite the fact that I’m not the only person that does this type of thing (witness the celebrated exploits of the frequently-cited Bob Egan at PopSpots and/or any number of groups on Facebook like Manhattan Before 1990 or Greenwich Village Grapevine), some parties seem to think it’s a staggering waste of time. Fair enough, I suppose, but the only crucial difference between myself and those other seekers, as far as I can tell, is the subjects of the photographs. Because the particular shots I’m drawn to involve arguably less celebrated luminaries like Tony Conrad, Japan or – yea verily – the Lunachicks instead of, say, the overly lionized Bob Dylan, I’m apparently a weirdo. Whatever. That part doesn’t bother me.
But in spinning the yarn and widening the net in the instance of Lunachicks photo, I seem to have inadvertently put a few people off. “I’m not sure I see the point,” said one prominent individual when I tried to recruit their expertise. I don’t necessarily expect everyone to share my enthusiasm for the search, but as I sheepishly tried to explain to that individual, these posts of mine are, in a way, a small attempt to pay tribute to a city that formerly fostered an environment where art and music of the Lunachicks’ variety could once thrive –- unlike the comparatively staid and cripplingly expensive city it’s become. Speaking to my own experience, these posts are inarguably driven by one of my new favorite words, Hiraeth; a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
I realize that sounds awfully histrionic, but maybe my attempts to stay connected to these vanished eras via these photographs is just the manifestation of a midlife crisis.
It makes sense, in a way. I’ve garnered similar reactions via my pointedly less cerebral ruminations about, for lack of a better term, rock t-shirt etiquette. I’m routinely met with snarky comments like “Imagine caring!” or “get ahold of yourself, punk rock dad!” when I venomously froth at the mouth about “vintage” metal t-shirts being appropriate by vacuous high fashion types and/or indefensible idiots like Kim Kardashian sporting Ramones t-shirts and knock-off leather jackets festooned with arcane punk insignia. The party line I tow there, usually, is that when something that mattered a great deal to me for a large swathe of my youth is blithely appropriated by pretty much the very demographic that once virulently mocked me for my fervent appreciation of same, I will not stand for it. As a high school geek who caught no end of grief from the popular kids for wearing Motorhead and Circle Jerks t-shirts, to see these signifiers adopted by people without the slightest investment in what they mean beyond some hollow ironic statement -– well, it pisses one off.
Here’s the thing, though: Fashion is silly. Band t-shirts are silly. Heavy Metal and Hardcore are fucking silly. As a more or less sentient adult, I am fully aware of the inherent ridiculousness of all this, let alone of my own cartoony over-reactions to them. As bug-eyed and furious as I’m prone to get during these discussions, I’m cognizant of the absurdity of it all. There are genuine problems in the world. Waifish young supermodels and idiotic reality TV stars wearing garments extolling the names of rock bands they’ve never actually heard isn’t really one of them.
…but I digress.
Back to the matter of the Lunachicks’ photo, is it of grave significance? No. Will being able to definitively put my hand down to the patch of concrete – should it still exist – that the band are depicted standing on prove any point or make any difference to anyone’s life other than maybe my own? Probably not. But I do like to think that for those of us who live in this city and share my affinity for the certain eras, the certain places, the certain sensibilities, sights and sounds I write about here, it’s worthwhile to remember and celebrate these elements.
And now? To unearth the lead I just buried beneath the above six paragraphs: As mentioned in the last post on the subject, I am in touch with the photographer.
After reading several chapters in the saga, my friend Susan from the ILX boards gamely put me touch with one Joe Dilworth. Even if his name doesn’t immediately ring a bell, you’ve almost certainly seen his images grace the sleeves of albums by My Bloody Valentine, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Franz Ferdinand, Echo & the Bunnymen, Ocean Colour Scene, Laika, Ride, St. Etienne, Link Wray, Art Brut, The Church, Cornershop, Unrest and countless others. Not for nothing, but the man’s also played in an equally august list of formidable bands like Th’Faith Healers, Stereolab, Swearing at Motorists, Add N to (X), The Hangovers, Too Pure, PJ Harvey and more. When we started corresponding, he was (and remains, at the moment) on tour with a band called Cavern of Anti-Matter. Check our man out below on the drums … that’s him.
Anyway, to make a very long story short (oops, too late), Joe was sympathetic to my plight, and shares a similar appreciation for geographic location and detail. While not a New Yorker (he’s a Londoner, but from Germany originally), he did indeed remember the day, … and the general location (and yes....it's purportedly somewhere in the East Village). Most accommodatingly, Joe offered to share the contact sheets from the photo shoot with me. He’s touring, at the moment, with the band above, but told me he’d get me those assets upon his return. Ideally, the images contained therein should illuminate the situation considerably.
As a taster, however, Joe was able to send me an alternate shot from the same session. Herewith the Lunachicks continuing to be suitably provocative on that same spot.
For those who’ve made it this far with me, the prize is in sight. Hang in there.
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