I watched the Grammy Awards last night, albeit more out of vocational obligation than any genuine interest. I had to write a recap about it this morning, which is why I tuned in. Otherwise, I didn’t really have too many horses in the race. I mean, I was heartened that Iggy was nominated for “Best Alternative Album” for Post-Pop Depression, but it went to the equally deserving Blackstar by the late David Bowie, so it’s a win either way.
Beyond that, I wasn’t really arsed. I was fleetingly curious to see Metallica further besmirch their legacy by performing with Lady Gaga. I actually don’t mind Lady Gaga, but this just seemed like she was trying entirely too hard to be all things to all people, and their performance was a hapless clusterfuck, but then … the Grammys have never gotten “rock” right, by pretty much any definition.
Otherwise, I’m frankly too old and too disinterested to care about bullshit like Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Chance the Rapper and Adele and all that. I felt bad for Adele for her flub covering George Michael’s “Fastlove” as a funereal dirge, but she handled it with grace. If anything, I think the arrangment did no one any favors. She should have just sung “Praying for Time” and the intended end would have been handily achieved, but y’know … whatever.
Beyond complaining about kids today and their shitty taste in music, I was disheartened that the tribute to the Bee Gees focussed EXCLUSIVELY on their disco-era hits, with nary a mention to their stately back catalog of pop gems like “I Started a Joke,” “Lonely Days,” “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You,” “To Love Somebody,” etc. Their august body of work was essentially reduced to a one-album wonder. Fuck that and whomever was responsble for same.
Lastly, I was unsurprised but still depressed that Alan Vega of Suicide was left off of the “In Memoriam” list. Granted, Vega – who passsed away in July 2016 – might not exactly have been a household name, but he was inarguably a pioneer. Not only were Suicide trailblazers in the New York proto-punk scene, they were incredibly influlentional on electronic music, light years ahead of whole genres. Campy, controversial, confrontational, bold and innovative, Alan Vega may not have sold as many records in his day as Bruno Mars, but he deserved at least a mention. He didn’t get one. Again, I’m not shocked, but for an institution that considers itself an authority, they should fucking well know better.
Anyway, here are two clips of Vega in action, albeit neither by Suicide.
The first is the proper video for “Juke Box Baby.” Incidentally, the diner he's periodically depicted in was Dave's Luncheonette on the corner of Canal and Broadway (long gone), which was a favorite hangout of the nascent Beastie Boys and pictured on the cover of the lone 8 Eyed Spy studio album. Upstairs was the Bulgarian disco that Eugene Hutz of Gogol Bordello threw absurd parties in. All that's gone now, of course. Just like Alan.
Secondly, here’s Alan covering "I Don't Care" and "I Remember You" with CJ Ramone, Daniel Rey and Bill Stevenson at the Ramones Beat on Cancer benefit in 1994.
Once upon a time, there was an endearingly niche record shop at 263 West 23rd Street called Midnight Records. It was just a little further west and across the street from the Chelsea Hotel. Don’t bother looking for it today, of course. Heartbreakingly, 263 is a Verizon Wireless outlet today, but when it was Midnight Records, stepping into it was like stepping into a whole other world.
To be honest, the type of stuff I was looking for wasn’t generally going to be stocked within the already-very crowded confines of Midnight Records. Midnight’s niche, you see, was `60's-style psych/garage rock of the variety selectively popularized via Lenny Kaye’s seismic Nuggets compilations. Back during the early 90’s, if you went into Midnight Records looking for the latest albums by U2, Whitney Houston or Phil Collins, you were likely to get derisively laughed right off the premises, “High Fidelity”-style. But were you to go in searching for prized vinyl from Roky Erickson’s 13th Floor Elevators, The Sonics, The Inmates or the Count Five, you were likely to be warmly embraced in a manner befitting an airport’s international arrivals gate. They catered feverishly to their devout demographic --- which might explain why they’re no longer on 23rd street. The shop closed for good in 2004.
While I truly dug the Nuggets stuff and harbored an affinity for Boston’s Lyres and New York’s own Fuzztones (after seeing them open for The Ramones once or twice), I couldn’t really count myself as a member of the psych/garage tribe. I admired the loyalty of its fans, but so much of it was just a bit too retro for my tastes, despite the fact that it was a sound that inarguably inspired most of my then-favorite bands. I did buy a decent amount of stuff at Midnight, notably some discs by The Smithereens, the Hoodoo Gurus and a fittingly psychedelic poster for Robyn Hitchcock’s Globe of Frogs album that I later framed (although it hangs in a closet today).
In any case, while the afore-cited Fuzztones and the Fleshtones from Queens were probably the biggest bands of that variety on the scene, there were others. One of those higher-profile ensembles was an outfit called The Vipers. While I remember spying their name on posters on the walls of Midnight Records and on gig flyers around town, what I credibly know about the Vipers couldn’t fill one side of a sheet of loose-leaf. Again, while I appreciated that stuff, it was never really “my thing,” so to speak.
Regardless, I stumbled upon this video recently, and it caught my attention. Directed by Pat Ivers, this clip finds lead Viper Jon Weiss involved in some variety of boy-loses-girl narrative in between bouts of unenthused lip-synching. To my knowledge, the rest of the band do not appear. It’s mostly shots of Jon moping around on stairwells and rooftops and the odd city street, which begged the question …. Where in NYC was this clip filmed?
I want to say I see a sign for Spring Street, but I can’t be sure. It also looks like he’s wandering around a particularly crumbly part of TriBeCa or maybe the Meatpacking District? This being from 1982, both of those neighborhoods would have been suitably distressed by erosion and disrepair at the time.
Back on Wednesday night (when it was unseasonably balmy only a few hours before the snow), my wife's alma mater held an alumni function at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum at 103 Orchard Street.
While I'd been in the ground floor book store of same on the corner of Delancey many times (well worth your time), this was shamefully my first time in the actual museum itself -- and I was entirely blown away.
If you are at all as intrigued by NYC's intricate, disarming and incalculably rich history as I am, it is ENTIRELY worth visiting, especially in this confounding and divisive era. This institution's mission is important and immeasurably informative to the American experience -- something that seems entirely lost on our current administration. Go, check it out, enrich your knowledge and *CELEBRATE* the complex diversity that literally forged this city and this nation. Sermon over.
I remember reading a lot of chatter on social media, during those deceptively carefree days prior to Election Day, that suggested that -– at the very least -– if Trump were to ascend to the highest office in the so-called free world, we’d get some great protest music out of it -– or “punk rock would be good again.”
This blithe suggestion irked me on two levels. For a start, it completely trivialized the ramifications of a Trump win (i.e. the dystopian Hellscape that is our new reality). This is not to say that protest music and/or Punk Rock aren’t valid and meaningful forms of art and expression, but rather that in the grand scheme of things, we would have (and now currently do have) a lot more concrete concerns to grapple with than music. Yes, music can be a vital means of changing hearts and minds, expressing ideas and galvanizing the spirit, but when long-held institutions are being dismantled, universally acknowledged priorities are being upended and personal freedoms and rights are being compromised or just completely stripped away --- on a goddamn daily basis -- it’s hard to get excited new tunes to listen to.
Secondly, while he now looks like fuckin’ Cicero in comparison to the current holder of the office, President George W. Bush sat in the White House for eight long years, and I certainly don’t remember a grand resurgence of empowering protest music, let alone any great Punk Rock. I mean, yeah …. Green Day’s “American Idiot” was certainly well-intentioned, but it wasn’t exactly incendiary (especially since it was later turned into a Broadway musical, for cryin’ out loud). But, y’know, that’s just my opinion, and I’m ultimately just a cranky old man, so fuck do I know?
To be fair, there were exceptions. It’ll come as zero surprise that I’d cite selections from Killing Joke and Firewater that specifically pertained to the Bush Administration, but neither of those estimable ensembles are particularly high profile, in the grand scheme of things. Ministry put out a string of albums with an anti-Bush bent, but it’s not like Jourgensen’s distorted vocals ever made the message particularly discernible. It also didn’t help that Ministry had long since abandoned things like melody years earlier. For the most part, while W. was in office, folks were more musically concerned with who was bringing sexy back and/or dropping it like it was hot.
In the past few weeks, the one track that I keep coming back to is both a bona fide protest song and one technically born of Punk Rock, although the fact that the song is eloquently articulated and musically sophisticated doesn’t immediately jive with what was later defined by the Punk stereotype. “Power in the Darkness,” the title track off the debut album by the Tom Robinson Band (or TRB) arrived on the shelves of discerning record stores in 1978, the same year as the debut albums by arguably less cerebral outfits like Sham 69, Generation X and 999 (all of whom I adore, incidentally). Given TRB’s penchant for outspoken, issue-specific songs (as opposed to just vague sloganeering) and the fact that they could play quite competently, they may have been somewhat overlooked during that era of British Punk, but the sentiments they expressed have taken on a much greater, impactful prescience in ensuing decades. By contrast, where Sham’s “If the Kids Are United (They Will Never Be Divided)” sounds dated and almost quaint in 2017, “Power in the Darkness” still sounds urgent and worryingly timely.
I first heard the song by way of a friend’s college radio program in 1985. I’ve mentioned him before, but my friend Warwick (a senior while I was a freshman) used to routinely borrow records from me for his evening shift on WDUB, and I’d dutifully tune in to hear which he’d play. In between, he spun tracks I was unfamiliar with like “Roadrunner” by the Modern Lovers, “Backwater” by Brian Eno, “Fortune Teller” by the Rolling Stones (later covered by the afore-cited 999) and, at the start of each of his shows, “Power in the Darkness” by the Tom Robinson Band.
For a start, the TRB played keyboards which – with the contentious exception of the already very contentious Stranglers – seemed to be somewhat of no-no for British Punk Bands at the time (see also facial hair, something the endearingly contrary Stranglers also boasted). And sure, they wore leather jackets, but the TRB were hardly the type of band that was going to vomit onstage or deafen unsuspecting listeners with feedback. No, what made the TRB distinctive was their gift for galvanizing social anthems like “Glad to Be Gay” and “Power in the Darkness.”
Like the best protest songs, “Power..” is entirely catchy, featuring an uplifting chorus and a couple of emphatically barked verses by the great Mr. Robinson himself. But what really drives the song home is the verse delivered after the keyboard solo in the middle-eight, wherein Robinson assumes the persona and voice of a stuffy British patrician waxing reverent of traditionally conservative values. The sermon quickly devolves into a vitriolic anti-diversity rant that in less capable hands would sound cartoony. My beloved Killing Joke attempted a similar approach with their debut song, “Are You Receiving?” about a year later, and I can’t help thinking “Power in the Darkness” was their inspiration.
Enough of my blather. Here’s the Tom Robinson Band track now. While written within and about the British social order of the late 1970’s, it could just as easily apply the antics and fallout of the Trump Administration here in 2017.
PLAY IT LOUD!
Inspired by same, I decided to get my fingers dirty on a platform I normally have no tolerance for. I decided to make a similarly inclined playlist on Spotify. I’d have loved to have included “Power in the Darkness” therein, but it’s not available on Spotify – possibly because of Robinson’s pointed dropping of the “N” word (recited in character and not used in earnest). I also wanted to slip in “Homophobic Asshole” by the Senseless Things and “Pistol Archive” by Missing Foundation, but they can’t be found on Spotify either … which only goes to show you how lame Spotify is and that you should go out and buy the tactile artifacts of music and support your favorite artists that way, but I digress.
With the exception of Moby’s well-intentioned “Erupt and Matter” and the endearingly profane "FDT" by YG & Nipsey Hussle, none of these songs were penned with Trump in mind, but they are all more or less topically applicable, I believe, to our current situation. You, of course, may beg to differ.
Here’s an entirely stupid, indulgent post for Friday. You’re welcome.
I’ve spoken about them a few times here before, but I’ve always been a pretty big fan of LCD Soundsystem. I mean, sure, I was less than entirely amazed when they reconvened after barely breaking-up for a couple of years, despite the fact that their return was feted by their millennial fan base in a manner that suggested the type of reception a rare, post-death resumption of duties by The Clash or the Beatles would enjoy. But yeah, ever since first hearing the aging music-snob manifesto, “Losing My Edge” back in 2002, I was fully onboard. That LCD mainman James Murphy copped to cribbing the bassline for same from “Change” by my beloved Killing Joke certainly didn’t hurt. (Yes, yes, I know, pedants – said bassline originally came from “Me & Baby Brother” by War, blah blah blah).
Anyway, I dutifully picked up each successive LCD Soundsystem release, encouraged by Murphy’s commendable taste, DIY aesthetic and knack for big fuckoff hooks. They seemed to go from a cool little indie band to a somewhat major phenom in fairly short order. I managed to see them perform at the awful Terminal 5 a couple of times, but thought their final show at Madison Square Garden – a room usually reserved for KISS and `Maiden – was a little unduly audacious. But, if I’m not mistaken, they sold it out, so -– clearly -– what the fuck do I know?
Over the years, meanwhile, on more than a couple of occasions, it has been remarked upon that I somewhat resemble LCD’s James Murphy. That might give some folks pause, but given that Murphy and I are close in age (I’m about three years old than him), it’s not too much of a stretch. We share an affinity for facial scruff and both boast physiques that could best be described as “dadly.” Coincidentally, it seems many are speculating that Murphy is about to join me in the ranks of fatherhood. We also probably share a few of the same vices. As such, being told I might look like him doesn’t really bug me at all.
Beyond the unspeakable nature of his worldview and curriculum vitae, Bannon is a girthy – and doubtlessly gassy – specimen, peppered with liver spots and gin blossoms of a variety that intones that their host is voluntarily dying from the inside out. While I sometimes have privately worried that I’m just a cheeseburger and a couple of pints away from looking like Bannon, to see it in stark black n’ white was a bit of a day-ruiner.
I feel like James Murphy and I should start a new jogging regimen together.
Another welcome respite from all things political/apocalyptic. While further invocations of my Cop Shoot Cop book might also prompt you to roll your eyes, it is a project that is much on my mind, as you can imagine, so herewith an ancillary entry about same.
As a bit of background, the whole idea of the book came about as a reward for interested parties who would pledge their support to a larger project, that project being a sprawling documentary film by one writer/director named Shaun Katz called “Underground Inc.” An ambitious endeavor seeking to shed light on the lesser celebrated aspects of the era, “Underground Inc.” promises to probe deeper into the Alt.Rock phenomenon of the 1990s beyond the usual, predictable and by-now-somewhat hackneyed touchstones (Grunge, Seattle, Cobain, etc.)
With that in mind, Katz launched a Kickstarter page with the promise of the book as a prize for those who pledged a certain sum. That’s where I and the Cop Shoot Cop boys come in. We’ve been in regular contact ever since, exchanging ideas, doing interviews and hashing out plans for the book … which is no easy feat, given that certain members of the band now live in far-flung corners of the globe, some have been on tour and still certain others don’t particularly enjoy the modern convenience of communicating over e-mail.
So, anyway, while we’ve been doing all that, I’ve been slowly piecing the narrative together in a relatively linear way and attempting to coax testimonials from like-minds, peers, supporting players and luminaries of the era. That’s all interesting and fun, but it’s also quite time-consuming, especially when I’m largely doing it during downtime between the demands and responsibilities and my job and my role as a parent.
Meanwhile, the Kickstarter campaign is still short of its goal, and its deadline fast approacheth. With that in mind, Shaun Katz reached back out to myself and the Cop lads to see if we could whip up a short piece to inject a bit of intrigue and enthusiasm for the film. That’s what this somewhat strenuously overwritten piece below is.
I mean, did I need to invoke Martin Luther nailing his 95 Theses to the church door? Probably not, but it was a whim, and I went with it. Read on…
Alternative Rock in the 1990s: A frenetic amalgam of sounds, styles and sensibilities culled from the Punk, New Wave, Hardcore, Indie, Metal, Industrial and Post-Punk eruptions of two decades earlier. While ultimately just a convenient catch-all term, Alternative Rock coalesced its disparate strains in the `90s and unified them under a banner of renunciation. To use an incongruously lofty comparison, like Martin Luther righteously nailing his 95 Theses to the stately doors of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany centuries earlier, the bands that comprised the ranks of Alternative Rock during years of the Clinton Administration flipped an emphatic bird at the flabby corpulence and syrupy over-production that had rendered mainstream rock redundant, clichéd, flaccid and uninspired. Fed up with a steady, insipid diet of Night Ranger, Michael Jackson, Journey, Taylor Dane and Warrant, a new generation of angry music fans were crying foul and pushing back.
In a sprawling new documentary film project, “Underground Inc.,” writer/director Shaun Katz seeks to exhume the defiant heart of the Alternative Rock era by stripping away the hype and getting to the meat of the matter. Featuring exclusive interviews and footage of bands from all over the Alternative diaspora, “Underground Inc.” forsakes the glitzy teen pop that engulfed the zeitgeist in the wake of the Alternative era and turns back the clock to a time when music was a living, breathing and screaming palpable life force.
But we can’t do it without your input. “Underground Inc.” launched a Kickstarter page to help bring this ambitious film project to high-volume fruition. But, we’re running out of time. If you want to see the definitive story of the Alternative scene resurrected on film, help us make that happen by pledging TODAY.
Fuck the duplicitous politicos of today, LEAVE THE “ALTERNATIVE FACTS” TO US!
As a quick bonus, we chased down Tod [A], former chief officer of New York City’s fabled guerilla noise-rock ensemble, Cop Shoot Cop, currently sequestered in Istanbul. A veteran insurrectionist of NYC’s notorious live music scene, Tod drove Cop Shoot Cop like a furious battering-ram against the yawnsome retro-rock mores of the day, later to crawl from the wreckage of the impact to form the tirelessly amorphous ensemble Firewater. A vocal participant in “Underground Inc.,” we decided to put a few lines of inquiry by him to see if he’d crack under questioning.
Like it or not, you’re a veteran of the 90’s Alternative Rock scene. Looking back, how would you describe the musical landscape your band Cop Shoot Cop was born into?
There was "classic rock radio". There were major labels staffed by aging hippies with ponytails. Cop Shoot Cop wanted to destroy all that.
What do you think is the biggest misconception about Alternative rock of the 90’s?
The biggest misconception about alternative rock in the 1990's was that bands like Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, and others of their ilk, were anything other than hair metal bands repackaged as something called "grunge."
How did you get involved in “Underground Inc.”?
The members of Cop Shoot Cop were contacted by director Shaun Katz. The film tells a story that hasn't yet been told, and CSC were very happy to do what we could to bring it to light.
What about what you’ve seen of the film resonated with your experience with Cop Shoot Cop?
From the preview I've seen, it seems the film captures much of the reckless energy of the time.
Which bands of that era do you think deserve greater recognition (apart from Cop Shoot Cop and Firewater, obviously)?
Not that they lack for recognition, but I was surprised that Pussy Galore was not included in the documentary. They were pivotal in the NYC scene in the early 1990's. Champing at the heels of Sonic Youth, they probably shook things up more than anyone else – until Cop Shoot Cop came along, of course.
What do you hope viewers take away from “Underground Inc.”?
I hope that everyone helps out, so that the film gets completed. Then you can take away whatever you want!
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