Sorry for the slowdown in posting, but the holidays will do that. Also, most of the stuff I’m inclined to write here, these days, is just bilious spleen-venting with each successive news item about the impending Trump presidency, and -– frankly -– I’ve already alienated enough people on Facebook with that stuff.
In any case, in depressing news of an entirely different variety, it seems one of the fabled awnings of CBGB has found itself onto Sothebys, aimed at fetching a high price between $25,000 to $35,000. That said, the awning in question is a latter-era iteration, for those purists out there who might care about such stipulations. Allegedly, Arizona skate-punk stalwarts JFA stole (and still possess?) one of the earlier, arguably “more authentic” versions, but they’ve as yet to come clean about it.
This whole thing reminds me a bit of a news item last week regarding Malcolm McLaren’s son’s burning of some British punk memorabilia of an estimated value of five million pounds. Obviously, that was RIDICULOUSLY short-sighted of him. For a start, it's not really HIS to destroy. Secondly, those items could have fetched handsome sums at an auction benefiting any number of worthy charities. Thirdly, I STRENUOUSLY doubt his father would have approved. Despite his con-man status, McLaren was very proud of his legacy. All told, it's a hollow and wasteful publicity stunt designed to make a statement about a cultural movement McLaren's son ultimately has no right to opine about. I don't dispute the allegation that "punk is dead," but it's not for him determine. I just can't help thinking that many millions of pounds could have been put to use in some way.
Similarly, I doubt the proceeds from the CB’s awning will go to a charity, but that remains to be seen, I suppose.
Say what you will about the alleged stunt, but that was a pretty ballsy move – if true – by JFA. Despite not being able to credibly skate worth a damn (as documented here and here), I always liked the early JFA records, notably “Beach Blanket Bong-Out” and their surprisingly faithful cover of “Walk Don’t Run.” Here they are actually playing at CBGB in 1984. Not sure if this was the same instance wherein they allegedly stole the awning.
In case you’re not a fan of JFA – fair enough – skip to 42:14 into the proceedings for some period-specific footage of the Bowery outside of CBGB (obviously including the awning in question).
Under normal circumstances, I'm prone to churlishly refer to the impending holiday as Angstgiving, and issue some emphatic advisory to steer well clear of any divisive political topics `round the dinner table, if at all possible. This is still prudent advice, although I believe even the most strident Republicans in my family are somewhat at a loss, these days, to make sense of characters like Donald Trump and Ben Carson. In any case, I’ll be keeping my frequently pointed opinions to myself over the next couple of days as best I can. No easy feat, that.
That was then. This is now.
At this stage of the proceedings, I don’t think I need to expound any further on my misgivings about the recent election. Lots of folks seem to be calling for those burdened with such feelings to put them to one side and move forward -- to make the best of it, adjust and offer support. Personally, speaking, so long as people are still LITERALLY ‘SIEG HEILLING'Trump's victory and he does precious fuck-all to legitimately address and denounce it, I shan’t be doing that.
I am heartened, in a way, that Trump is predictably welching on some of the promises he made to his base. He’s not going to pursue locking Hillary up. He’s giving some ground on the topic of climate change. He’s conceding that his fabled wall might be fine as simply a fence. I’m mildly encouraged by that in the hopes that he’ll similarly refrain from messing with some of the other things he said he was going to dismantle. I’m also happy in that it’ll demonstrate to the folks that zealously voted to put him in office that he was -– of course -– a complete con man all along, merely telling his supporters what they wanted to hear in order to obtain his objective. Mission accomplished, suckers. Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?
That said, given the rogue’s gallery of human excrement that he’s surrounding himself with, it’s still way too early to be exhaling any sighs of relief.
As we spiral into the gaping beak of Thanksgiving, however, I feel that I would be entirely remiss in not expressing gratitude for the things I do have and enjoy. I’m about to cross my one-year anniversary at my job, and it’s been a very fruitful and rewarding experience for me. While we still face our own various challenges, my immediate family is largely happy and mercifully healthy. We still have some big decisions to make and hurdles to clear, but overall, we are in a good place. For that, I am truly grateful.
For the things that are out of my hands, here’s hoping the President-Elect and his flatulent gaggle of nogoodnicks don’t entirely fuck things up for the nation, its people and the planet writ large. That’s an opinion I’m going to endeavor to keep to myself this coming Thanksgiving, although my feelings on the subject have already been figuratively scrawled out in big, dripping red letters. I am not enigmatic in that capacity.
For whatever reason, while several other holidays have whole catalogs of music devoted to them, there don’t seem to be very many specific songs about Thanksgiving. That said, I mulled over a few (very arguably) appropriate selections like “Gratitude” by the Beastie Boys, “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin and …er… “Thanks” by the Wedding Present. There’s even a song by my beloved Killing Joke called “Gratitude,” although it’s from one of their least-realized efforts, to my mind, so I shan’t be dusting that one off. I then considered “Thank You” by SWANS, as that certainly fits the mood of the current climate (not least as it seems to be about flagellation and immolation … naturally), but decided that the hopeful and elegiac tone of “In Cythera” by Killing Joke really sums up the essence of the holiday.
Happy Thanksgiving. Rise above the squabble and be thankful for your loved ones. Who knows what tomorrow brings?
Saw, all those things, I should have said, While I had the time.
You, who stood by me, When I lost the plot, You were always kind.
All, through these mortal joys, Through my anger, And endless rain.
And during, my addictions, Yet the love you showed, Still remained the same.
I'm grateful, For all the times we've shared. Through struggles, and madness, You're there.
I've seen you, in a dream, On a sunny day, where the skies are clear. I'll see you, in Cythera, On an island, far away from here.
If I don’t return Before your time is up I promise to set your place On the table with wine I fill your cup
And to, ourselves we lie, As we, break down inside, 'cause we never, said enough, How much we really loved.
I'm grateful, For all the times we've shared. Through struggles, and madness, You're there.
I've seen you, in a dream, On a sunny day, where the skies are clear. I'll see you, in Cythera, On an island, far away from here.
I'm grateful, For all the times we've shared. Through struggles, and madness, You're there.
I've seen you, in a dream, On a sunny day, where the skies are clear. I'll see you, in Cythera, On an island, far away from here.
For that impending Cop Shoot Cop book I’ve been periodically bleating about here, I had the pleasure of sitting down with Jack Natz this past weekend. For those among you that are possibly not quite as versed or devout as I, beyond his former membership in Cop Shoot Cop, Natz is a veteran of the downtown scene, having played in numerous notable bands, appeared in several avant garde films of a certain stripe and is currently a legitimately acclaimed painter. That's him on the right, as photographed back in the late 80s by Michael Lavine. When he served in the ranks of Cop Shoot Cop, Natz cut a somewhat imposing profile, seemingly the loosest in a squad of loose cannons. When I interviewed the band back in the distant 90’s, Natz could be gruff, terse and intimidating. As such, I was slightly concerned going into this interview.
Stories of the band’s acrimonious dissolution in 1995 only heightened that trepidation, as I feared Natz might still harbor some bad feelings about how everything went down, even two decades later. But, as a central character in the story, I couldn’t not talk to him. I was informed by his former bandmates that he was amenable to the idea, so I reached out, and he suggested meeting up at the Housing Works Book Shop and Café on Crosby Street in SoHo. That would never have been a spot I’d have expected a former member of Cop Shoot Cop to hang out, but hey … it’s 2016. People surprise you.
As it turned out, Jack Natz is not a bitter man, or at least not anymore. We sat and talked for a little over an hour about his days in the band and some of their more colorful exploits and a bit about his extracurricular activities in bands like The Undead, Virus, the Black Snakes and Lubricated Goat. I found him to be affable and generous with the anecdotes.
Coincidentally, it seems a venture called Robellion Films is releasing a series of DVDs featuring bands from the New York noise-rock scene, among them being an edition solely devoted to Cop Shoot Cop. Natz was unaware of this, but here’s the trailer for same below. Cop Shoot Cop are sandwiched between two vastly inferior bands, and only given a snippet wherein they are depicted hammering their way through the noisier bits of “Lo.Com.Denom” from Consumer Revolt, with Natz getting the lion’s share of the screen time (that’s him the vest).
Anyway, hats off to the great man for giving me some time and great fodder for the book. And please enjoy this fleeting taste of the live Cop Shoot Cop experience.
Unless your head is way up your own ass, you probably heard about the pro-Trump graffiti (augmented with crudely-rendered swastikas) being scrawled all over Adam “MCA” Yauch Park in Brooklyn Friday. Given that, by pretty much all accounts – Adam Yauch (who passed away in 2012) was a kind, thoughtful and compassionate individual, this vandalism made quite an impact. It’s odd that we should be dealing with this brand of hateful, idiotic bullshit in this purportedly enlightened age, but the recent election has really validated some frightening, fringe perspectives that were heretofore rightly kept under wraps. Sadly, this is probably just the beginning.
In any case, to protest this and myriad other hate-related crimes that have seen a disquieting uptick since November 9, there was a vigil held in Adam Yauch Park on Sunday to condemn this new tide. Among the attendants was Adam “Ad-Rock” Horovitz of the Beastie Boys, who spoke to the crowd, resulting in this great shot of the man at the top of this post.
At the risk of seeming histrionically melodramatic, this photo reminded me of Norman Rockwell’s celebrated painting, “Freedom of Speech.” This struck me as somewhat fitting, as Adam does indeed rock well.
At last night’s American Music Awards in Los Angeles, beleaguered pop-punk stalwarts, Green Day, got up and performed their latest single, “Bang Bang,” and spliced in a slightly altered version of MDC’s signature slogan from 1982 into the song’s middle-eight, swapping out “No War” for the refreshingly more specific ”NO TRUMP!”
Here’s the clip below. ADDENDUM: Whoops, taken down already. Oh well -- seek it out, it's probably out there somewhere.
Say what you want about Green Day (as I’m sure many will), but I applaud them potentially risking the alienation of a large swathe of their fan base by publicly denouncing Trump. Of course, one could also speculate that they’re just trying to drum up publicity by invoking the embattled internationalinterstellar embarrassment’s stupid name on national television (they at least weren’t as polite as the “Hamilton” cast). That said, if American Idiot didn’t already clue you in as to where Green Day's hearts and minds are politically, you’re just not paying attention.
The origin of the MDC chant, of course, comes from “Born to Die,” off the endearingly lefty Texas band’s incendiary debut album. If you don’t own this record, you’re truly missing out on a hardcore classic.
Released a year prior to the presidential election that found Bill Clinton succeeding George H.W. Bush, Corrosion of Conformity’s incendiary-if-easily-misconstrued paean to civic obligation, “Vote with a Bullet,” frankly felt more like hollow posturing, even despite the admonition at the end of its video urging eligible viewers to register to vote. That quibble didn’t make it any less of an enjoyably bracing bit of rocktastic oomph! But what, exactly, was it all trying to say?
Couched with vague lyrics and unspecific imagery, this thinly-veiled allusion to Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver” literally calls for insurrection (with accompanying visuals), but also seems to portray the perils of guns falling into wrong hands and causing chaos. Which is it, C.O.C.? Do you want to start an armed revolution or are you espousing political change via participation in the system? The Orwellian closing statement urges voter registration to thwart the machinations of corrupt power, but the poetically licensed protagonist has abandoned the ballot for the bullet.
Meanwhile, the targeted politician in the video’s source material –- presidential candidate Senator Palantine in “Taxi Driver” -– was arguably incidental. Protagonist Travis Bickle only latches onto the idea of shooting the senator until after being rebuffed by Betsy, who works in his campaign office … a plot flourish that would later allegedly inspire John Hinckley Jr. to shoot Ronald Reagan to win the approval of Jodie Foster, who played Iris the teenage prostitute in “Taxi Driver.” Politics ultimately had little to do with it.
Hindsight is 20/20, of course, but the presidential election cycle of the early 90’s that put Clinton in the Oval Office wasn’t even a fraction as charged and divisive as the one we just went through and are …well, maybe not quite recovering from, but still feeling the fallout of. Had C.O.C. (who are still going, I believe) –- or their new millennial equivalents -– released something comparable closer to the Clinton/Trump content, I wonder what the reaction would have been. I’ve been hoping to hear more politically charged music that reflects the tenor of the times, but the closest I’ve heard might just have been “Fuck Donald Trump” by YG and Nipsy Hussle, … which minced no words.
Honestly, I preferred Corrosion of Conformity’s earlier incarnation as a proper hardcore band, although I did also enjoy this iteration’s other big, groove-driven single, “Clean My Wounds.” Mixed messages aside, I personally love this video for its flagrant hair-flippage, its very metal power-chords, its impressive t-shirt presentation (Black Flag AND Black Sabbath) and the fact that Pepper Keenan features the Einsturzende Neubauten stick figure on his guitar.
Also, eagle-eyed Flaming Pablum readers will note that this video –- or portions of it, at least -– were filmed on the Lower East Side.
The building at 33 Thomas Street looms over Lower Manhattan like a fortress from a Tolkien text, rivalled only in that context by its relatively new neighbor to the west, the so-called “Jenga Tower” that is 56 Leonard Street.
But unlike that architecturally ornate structure of glass and steel, 33 Thomas offers no glinting reflections of the sun, no envy-inducing terraces, no fleeting glimpses of luxury, … and no windows. It stands like an oblong, impenetrable sentinel of indeterminate purpose. It would not look out of place in the opening sequence of “Blade Runner.” Its design is an unwaveringly firm assertion of function, not form. It does not seek your fanciful approval. It suggests something more stern, possibly even sinister.
I walk by 33 Thomas Street pretty much every day and never fail to glace up at it and wonder what transpires beneath its sprawling, brown façade. I assumed it had something to do with telephones, and pretty much left it at that, but since I’ve been regularly walking through TriBeCa every weekday for the past year, it has played with my imagination. What does go on in there? And why do I never see anyone enter .... or leave?
I think I first took notice of it via its placement in the video for “Green Light” by Firewater. In the clip, Tod [A] is seen walking atop the imposing stone perimeter of 33 Thomas, looking down at the camera while ducking and weaving around the structure’s retro-futurist lamp posts. Tod was living in TriBeCa at the time (over on Vestry Street), so 33 Thomas Street’s distinctive edifice was probably a no-brainer for a location.
I’d long considered writing a post about my curiosity about 33 Thomas Street, until a former colleague from TIME Magazine today posted a deeply intriguing (and hugely long) article from The Intercept that is ALL ABOUT the clandestine doings of 33 Thomas Street –- which also goes by the ominous code-name TITANPOINTE, and it’s JUST AS MYSTERIOUS AS I’D EXPECTED!
Reed all about it here. Meanwhile, here’s the afore-cited clip for “Green Light.” Look for 33 Thomas Street therein….
Been seeing a lot back ‘n’ forth about the usage of the safety-pin as signifier. For many, it’s perceived as short-hand for safety, solidarity and resistance, one that actually dates back much further than might be imagined -- its roots, I believe, belonging to the Dutch resistance in WWII.
The safety-pin as symbol has recently been re-adopted in the wake of the uptick of bigotry and racism stemming from Brexit in the UK, and the ascent of Trump and his supporters here at home, designed to send a message of both support to the potentially oppressed and defiance against the violent tenets of nativism, the very sort the Trump “movement” has come to represent. It’s a small gesture but, for many, a meaningful one.
Personally speaking, I'm of the age that still associates the sporting of safety-pins with all things Punk Rock. I first spotted them on this guy...
Some have been quick to point out that the punks adopted the safety-pin for the same reasons (solidarity and resistance), but history largely doesn't back that up. Popular consensus asserts that New York’s own punk pioneer Richard Hell adopted the habit, if only for the practical purposes of keeping his clothes together. Britain’s Malcolm McLaren took a shine to that aesthetic during a sojourn here managing the New York Dolls and later went back to the UK and grafted it onto the Sex Pistols. Of course, the Pistols et al. were also no strangers to sporting the swastika for shock value, which arguably conflates and confuses things even further
In any case, while I entirely applaud the sentiment behind re-introducing the safety-pin as a sign of dissent against Trumpism -- especially if it ruins the day of any meat-necked bro in a “Make America Great” baseball cap -- it’s ultimately just window-dressing for decent human conduct, which is something no one should be absolved from. Put simply, if you see someone getting violently hassled in the streets because they’re not white, or because they’re LBGTQ or because they’re female (…or they’re handicapped, … or they’re wearing the color blue, … or they’ve expressed an affinity for coffee without sugar, … or they’re a devout Doobie Brothers fan, … or they didn’t enjoy “Frozen,” … or…ANYTHING) and you're in a position to do something about it, then you should fucking intervene. It’s basically your duty as a sentient, compassionate human being.
So, yeah, if you want to wear a safety-pin, that’s great, but getting caught up about who should wear one and who shouldn’t just reeks of the same, precious nonsense that turned a lot of people off about the Occupy Wall Street movement -- i.e. the earnest protocols of “MIC CHECK” public speaking and “twinkling” instead of applause, etc.
My suggestion is that instead of worrying about whether your strategically applied safety-pin is sending the right message, how about you just make sure NOT TO BE A HATEFUL, OPPRESSIVE DICK and look out for your fellow citizens in these ugly, uncertain times.
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