Flaming Pablum

Oh Nevermind: Cop Shoot Cop at the Pyramid on Avenue A

It should come as very little surprise to anyone that knows me, but I “run” and/or “manage” Facebook’s seemingly only Cop Shoot Cop page. Actually, to be fair, that’s not true — there’s also a group page called We Demand a Cop Shoot Cop Reunion, but it’s dormant on the best of days. If you’re looking for all things Cop Shoot Cop on Facebook, I am evidently your authority. At the very least, I’ve manage to amass arguably the greatest collection of C$C and C$C-related visual ephemera to be found on the `net. See that here, should you care. So, yeah, yay me.

Why don’t any of the original Cop Shoot Copy guys get involved? Dunno. I assume they either just don’t care, have way better things to do and/or are just fine with me handling it. I was drafted, let’s remember, at one point, with the task of putting together that star-crossed and ill-fated Cop Shoot Cop coffee-table book that regrettably never came to pass. One could argue that said aborted assignment gives me the right. Or not. Whatever. Regardless, I've kept it going for at least five years now, and I’m always heartened that people still contribute to it. It doesn’t happen with roaring fervor, but every now and then, someone posts something rare — which, in the grand scheme of things, is really the only pertinent descriptor for Cop Shoot Cop and their ilk — a scene, a sound and a sensibility that is swiftly becoming anachronistic. This week, that happened.

A user named Erin posted a super-rare flyer of the band’s yesterday. This was from the early days, when commanding officer Tod [A] -- that's him at the top of this post in an image respectfully purloined from Recalcitrant Monthly --  was toiling, by day, at a copy shop on West Broadway, a tenuous state of disgruntled employment that, at the very least, gave him access to vast amounts of paper and copying equipment with which to illicitly print up the band’s signature brand of provocative propaganda. For one particular gig at The Pyramid on Avenue A, Tod paired his own typically eye-catching graphic skills with an appropriated image from the illustrious oeuvre of one Tom of Finland. For those unfamiliar (although there was recently a bona fide biopic on the man), Tom of Finland was an artist from — WAIT FOR IT — Finland renowned for his beatific depictions of homosexual erotica, usually concerning workaday scenarios involving impossibly burly sailors, firemen, cops, etc. Imagine the artwork of children’s illustrator Richard Scarry, only instead of anthropomorphic cats, dogs and piglets, it was blissful, hulking men with titanic erections.

To wit, Tod came up with this poster below …. a bit of promotional material that doubtlessly furthered the notoriety of the band, probably to the pronounced chagrin of the local constabulary. People of delicate constitutions and easily-offended sensibilities should avert their eyes...

I’d actually seen this poster before, hanging on the wall of the original incarnation of Max Fish on Ludlow Street during a late-80’s/early-90’s flyer retrospective. I wish I’d brought my camera to that one.

Also this week, I happened to spy a flyer on the official Instagram page of the mighty Lunachicks for a series of gigs also at the Pyramid. Mind you, as discussed here before, the Pyramid on Avenue A used to be this amazing, ground-breaking, scene-sharing venue that hosted all stripes of subculture — from punks, hardcore kids, metal heads and noise-rock freaks through drag-queens, club kids and disco-zealots, all more-or-less happily co-mingling in this grotty little bar. I haven’t been back in decades, but if the video in this post is to be believed, that iteration has since been replaced by just another douchey disco.

Anyway, boo hoo. The thing that, of course, struck me about this flyer was the line-up. On the otherwise sleepy night of Thursday, April 26, 1990, Cop Shoot Cop shared a bill with the similarly inclined local band Rat At Rat R (who I discussed here) and a hip and happening little beat-combo from Seattle called …. Nirvana.

While that Nirvana show has since become the stuff of legend (for some), sadly, there is precious little documentation of the Cop gig, although — to be fair — it was only one of many nights they played this particular venue over the years. Two short years later, Nirvana and Cop Shoot Cop would both play the fabled Reading Festival in England, although Nirvana were headliners and Cop Shoot Cop were relegated to something called The Session Tent (flanked by their compatriots in the Lunachicks, among others). Cop Shoot Cop did eventually make it to the big stage at Reading Festival in 1994, although still at the bottom of the bill, under friends like Helmet and the Jesus Lizard, with …. er … the Red Hot Chili Peppers headlining.

Does any of this matter now? Maybe only to a few. But for those it does matter to, I’m happy to share.

Meanwhile, as discussed in great detail here,  I’m still searching for the rest of THIS poster….

2018: The Year in Photographs

If you spend any meaningful amount of time on this blog, or are foolish enough to follow me on Instagram, you already know that I take what some might consider an irresponsibly laborious amount of pictures. I can't help myself. Were I unable to share those photographs on social media or here on this blog, I don't think I would behave any differently. And in an era when one can capture striking images without a huge, hulking camera but with simply one's iPhone, I find myself routinely pausing throughout my travels to do just that. 

As such, here are some of my own favorite images I was lucky enough to capture this year. You may have seen some of these before, but I tried to eschew repeating shots from the Beirut trip, the  England trip and the summer, as I feel I've covered those already. Click on each to enlarge, should you feel so inclined. 

Anyway, please enjoy, and why not share your own? 

Goodbye to Stormy 2018

Technically, there are still a few days left of 2018, but for all intents and purposes, it’s over. As such, time to dust off this old thing. Let’s have at it.

What did you do in 2018 that you'd never done before?
Travel to the Middle East. Partake of Black Pudding. Submit a stool sample. Not all on one day, mind you.

Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
My plans for the inevitable “Dry January” were stymied by the arrival of the bomb cyclone. We’ll see what happens this year.

Did anyone close to you give birth?
Friends of mine had children. No one in the immediate family.

Did anyone close to you die?
In the beginning of the year, my childhood friend Danny passed away. I wrote a few posts about it. Still hard to believe.

What countries did you visit?
I went to Lebanon in August (with a stopover in Paris) and England in November.

What would you like to have in 2019 that you lacked in 2018?
A responsible adult in the White House.

What date from 2018 will remain etched upon your memory?
I’m going to say September 12, which was significant for me in that it was both my organization’s company-wide Town Hall meeting (for which I orchestrated video coverage and content) in Nashville, Tennessee and the date of Killing Joke’s New York stop on their 40th Anniversary tour. I’d taken pains to arrange it so I could actually do both, but those plans collapsed, as discussed in histrionic detail here.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I’m proud of my continuing ascent at my place of work. The work I do is recognized and appreciated. That’s a nice feeling. Here's hoping I can sustain in 2019.

What was your biggest failure?
My little family has sorely outgrown our living space, but we have yet to find a working solution.

Did you suffer illness or injury?
Well, at one point, I had a scare with a tick. Then I developed a wicked case of Montezuma’s Revenge (read: traveler’s diarrhea) following the trip to Beirut. Then there was a sort of mystery condition that prompted a few invasive and uncomfortable tests (see stool sample answer above), that revealed nothing and went away as mysteriously as it had arrived. I’m sure you’re sorry you asked, now.

What was the best thing you bought?
Airline tickets for London to see the close of Killing Joke’s 40th Anniversary tour.

Whose behavior merited celebration?
Christine Blasey Ford

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, Paul Ryan, Brett Kavanaugh, Matthew Whitaker, Susan Collins, Chuck Grassley, John Cornyn, Mike Pence, Lyndsey Graham.

What did you get really, really excited about?
Traveling to Beirut. Traveling to London to see Killing Joke.

Where did most of your money go?
Tuition for my kids’ schools.

What song will always remind you of 2018?
“Never Fight a Man with a Perm” by IDLES

Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?
I’d say I’m about the same. I’m worried about a few things, but overall am content with how things are going on a personal level. On a grander scale, 2018 was a year of constant incredulousness, shock, disgust and shame over the Trump Administration.

Thinner or fatter?
Certainly fatter.

Richer or poorer?
Feeling the latter in the wake of the holiday season. We’ll see when those Amex bills arrive.

What do you wish you'd done more of?
Relaxing with my wife and kids.

What do you wish you'd done less of?
Wasting time on social media. Arguing about politics with certain folks.

How did you spend Christmas?
Spread over Quogue, Manhattan, Brooklyn and West Chester, PA.

Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
No earthly idea.

Did you fall in love in 2018?
Was already in love.

How many one night stands in this last year?
Zero. Happily hitched.

What was your favorite TV program?
I quite liked “The Bodyguard.”

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I continue to hate Trump and his cronies and his supporters. 

What was the best book you read?
Without question, the “Beastie Boys Book.”

What was your greatest musical discovery?
From eons passed, I discovered that great collaboration of Robert Fripp and David Sylvian, and a band I’d entirely slept on called The Oblivians, who are amazing. I also became somewhat enthralled by two newer bands, specifically IDLES and Daughters, as I mentioned here.

What did you want and get?
I was finally able to see Killing Joke on their 40th Anniversary tour –- TWICE, no less (Oxford and London)

What did you want and not get?
Regime change.

What were your favorite films of this year?
I quite liked “Can You Ever Forgive Me?”, which was a refreshingly smart, very New Yorky film. I suppose I liked “Avengers: Infinity Wars,” but all those Marvel movies are starting to blur together for me.

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned an unseemly 51, and had a small celebration with my family.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Trump’s impeachment, indictment and incarceration.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2018?
Embarrassing Dad With a Band T-shirt Problem

What kept you sane?
My lovely wife and children.

What celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I normally don’t have an answer for this, but I’m going to say Hayley Atwell. She’s close to perfect.

What political issue stirred you the most?
Fuckin’ take your pick.

Who did you miss?
Pete Shelley, Stan Lee, Mark E. Smith

Who was the best new person you met?
Three of my wife’s cousins in Beirut, who are all totally excellent.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2018
Never lose your sense of humor, regardless of how bleak and dire things get.

Song lyric that sums up 2018
Not a current song, but from World Party’s “Ship of Fools,” this feels kinda accurate…

We're setting sail to the place on the map
from which no one has ever returned
Drawn by the promise of the joker and the fool
by the light of the crosses that burned.

Christmas Eve 2018

Here's to a festive Christmas Eve to you and yours....

Sixteen Years Gone

Where is Joe Strummer today when we really need him? 

Ramones Removal

I cannot be sure when it was first put up, but I first spotted it in December of 2015, right about the time I’d started my new gig downtown. Along a perpetually weathered strip of SoHo on Thompson Street between Broome and Grand — one that’s always been a magnet for street art — an artist who calls himself Space Invader affixed a brilliant, pixelated portrait of the Ramones (circa their first album cover) as an intricate, tiled mosaic to an age-old, bricked-up window box on the easterly side of the street (essentially the rear of the parking garage on West Broadway). While SoHo isn’t the first neighborhood I’d have chosen to commemorate da brudders, being a lifelong Ramones fan, I loved this bit of street art from the second I laid eyes on it. Anything that gives props to this greatest of New York City bands, to my mind, is a justified endeavor.

Then, as documented on this post, the mosaic started to suffer a bit of physical trauma and endure a torrent of indignities as the building’s caretaker — one assumes — routinely tried to paint over it. By this time last year, the portrait had been crudely painted over with a sickly shade of yellowish beige.

Then, last August, the Ramones triumphantly re-emerged — courtesy of Space Invader? — a little worse for wear, but freshly scrubbed of their yucky beige coating. I was well pleased.

Tonight, however, I spotted something dispiriting. Again, presumably the work of the building’s landlord, the Ramones mosaic appeared to be in the throes of forcible removal, half of its tiles violently chipped away.

Space Invader, the ante has been upped. It's clearly your move. 

Pour one out for Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee & Tommy…

 

Idles Redux

Last post about the IDLES for now …. maybe.

As if I couldn’t love them any more than I already do, I stumbled upon this video from their first album, Brutalism. I don’t own it yet, but will be rectifying that error shortly. In any event, the entirety of this video for “Stendhal Syndrome” is footage of burly, beardy bassist Andrew “Dev” Devonshire dancing inappropriately with great aplomb in some of the world’s more revered museums ….notably the Metropolitan Museum here in New York and the Saathci Gallery in London. I actually have a pic of my kids standing in front of one of the same paintings Dev dances in front of at about 0:22 (see below).

As endearingly silly as the video is, the backstory is quite compelling:

From Genius .com: In a statement to The Know, lead singer Joe Talbot said this about the song: I once sat on a bench in a gallery in Valencia. I stared in awe of a painting for a good while, I was moved to tears by the scene of a man holding a crucifix at the top of a mound of other figures grappling for the glory of God. I’m not religious but it captivated me to the point of nausea. I looked into this and the phenomenon which has happened before and since, it’s called Stendhal Syndrome.

Those moments in my life were not driven by any pretension but from something intrinsically fucking magical. Now, of course, there is an obvious class divide sustained in the art world and that will always be there so long as art is perceived as this language only to be spoken and understood by the rich but the likelihood of our songs being heard and in turn being listened to by the upper classes is very unlikely, so I thought I’d highlight the other side that helps keep up the bullshit; that “I could do that” attitude because it’s fucking ignorant and it’s lazy and why the fuck does one person’s voice have to be shut down because you could fucking do it! Shut up, you’re boring. You didn’t do it BUT YOU CAN and maybe if you did you’d be less defensive about other people expressing themselves and you not. All is love.

Enjoy:

My Favorite New Music of 2018

I honestly don’t remember who first told me to check out IDLES, but it strikes me that several folks tried to explain their significance to me. It wasn’t really until I viewed their appearance on “Later with Jools Holland” (which I posted here) that I really sat-up and paid attention. I became so enthused by the track “Danny Nedelko” that I trooped out to Rough Trade in Brooklyn to buy m’self a copy of their sophomore long-player, Joy As An Act Of Resistance. That was a few weeks ago, and I’ve been listening to precious little else since.

IDLES are just such an enchanting rash of contradictions. I mean, I cannot pinpoint a single influence -– given their youth, they’re doubtlessly inspired by several contemporary artists I’m unfamiliar with. Sure, they hold their guitars like the Oh Sees/Coachwhips and deliberately prance about onstage in a manner not unlike Janick Gers from Iron Maiden, and they boast rousing, shout-along choruses like Sham 69 and the Cockney Rejects, but … sound like none of these bands. Lead singer Joe Talbot has emphatically stated that IDLES are not a punk band nor a post-punk band, but what do those genre signifiers even mean in 2018? IDLES certainly don’t *look* like punks, but apart from the fashion victims in bands like The Casualties and Rancid, who does still look that part?

I don’t honestly care what you care to call them. I just love that they write burly, aggressive, shouty songs loaded with chugging, clanging guitars and big fuckoff hooks and smart, funny, thought-provoking lyrics and play those songs like their bananas are on fire. Without question, Joy As An Act of Resistance is my favorite album of 2018.

If you’re like me –- and, frankly, God help you, if you are -– you live in an encroaching state of disinterest with what passes for new music. In a world giddily enthralled with idiotic piffle like Post Malone and the rinkydink retro-rock of Greta Van Fleet, it’s very hard not to be contentiously dismissive about the state of things. Obviously, that’s a myopic perspective -– there is clearly interesting music being made every day. One just has to look a llittle harder to find it. But for those of us still clinging to the fading vestiges of scenes that fostered artists like, say, NoMeansNo, Pussy Galore, SWANS, Foetus, Killing Joke, the Jesus Lizard, the Birthday Party and -– yes, wait for it -– Cop Shoot Cop, it can frequently seem like those particular sounds and sensibilities are now wholly anachronistic. Sure, there have been a handfull of bands over the last couple of years I’ve warmed to -– Pissed Jeans, Eagulls and Iceage spring immediately to mind -– but their ranks are few and far between, to my ears.

This year, however, I had numerous folks informing me that I should check out the new record by a band called Daughters, as they allegedly sound, in many instances, like my beloved Cop Shoot Cop. Suffice to say, I scoffed at the notion. Upon listening the album, however –- the endearingly titled You Won’t Get What You Want -- I did indeed start to understand a few of the comparisons. There’s certainly a common thread in the utilization of mechanized noise. The guitars don’t sound like guitars so much as frenziedly applied dentist drills. The drumming is still, stark and deliberate. While they seem to lack Cop Shoot Cop’s stubbornly pervasive sense of black humor, Daughters’ sardonic delivery does mimic our favorite Brooklyn sons to a degree. See if you agree.

While the music of Black Sabbath was largely considered to be monolithic, leaden and ponderous of rhythm -– as evidenced in hallowed classics like “Iron Man” and “War Pigs” -– there was a moment on their 1972 opus, Black Sabbath Vol 4 that belied all that oomphy heaviosity. Boasting what I’ve always considered to be Tony Iommi’s greatest riff (fight me on that one!), the rapturously cocainey “Supernaut” gives the fevered crash-cymbal-bashing, drug-espousal and fret-strangling a brief respite at 2:38 into the track, wherein sorely underpraised drummer Bill Ward is given free-reign, transforming proceedings from a headbanger’s hymn into a limbo-stick-friendly conga-breakdown. All of a sudden -– however fleetingly -– Black Sabbath felt the funk.

Here Lies Man is a band from Los Angeles whose entire musical output seems predicated on that unlikely amalgam, playing a vein of stoner metal filtered through rhythmic, funky afrobeat. Their lyrics are ultimately meh, but the grooves are unstoppable.

I can’t say that much about this band, but I first heard them this past November while I was in England to see Killing Joke. Public Service Broadcasting is an enigmatic collective of musicians that performs long works based around archival recordings, building lush, rocking orchestrations behind period-specific sonic documents. The first track of theirs I heard was “The Other Side,” a surprisingly moving capture of Apollo 8’s journey across the backside of the moon. Conceptually, it’s essentially “Space Oddity” re-constructed from the perspective of Ground Control, if you will, fleshed out with cinematic tension and expanse. Inspired by same, I picked up their 2018 e.p., White Star Liner, which shifts their nerdy focus from the space race to …. The Titanic. It shouldn’t work as well as it does, but it does…

If Eighties Were Thirties

Hey all. Apologies for the slowdown. Holidays, and all...I've been busy, etc. I do have some stuff in the works, and some of the numbingly predictable "year-end" content one normally expects on blogs of this kind ... does anyone really care what my favorite albums of the year were?

Anyway, while you're waiting breathlessly for that, here's a little something I spotted this morning that I feel is well worth sharing.

As gimmicks go, this seems pretty tired, but -- trust me -- it works *WAY* better than it has any right to. Here's the official description.

New Order's Blue Monday was released on 7 March 1983, and its cutting-edge electronic groove changed pop music forever. But what would it have sounded like if it had been made 50 years earlier? In a special film, using only instruments available in the 1930s - from the theremin and musical saw to the harmonium and prepared piano - the mysterious Orkestra Obsolete present this classic track as you've never heard it before.

Watch and enjoy...

Snubbed

As has been documented here of Flaming Pablum over the years, I have never been a supporter of the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame.

Beyond that fact that the whole concept seems inherently antithetical -- a staid, respectable establishment for artists who ostensibly want to upend staid, respectable establishments –- the Hall of Fame seems to have always been about the concerns of a narrow cabal of biased individuals whose interests are more focussed on the industry aspect of the endeavor than the artistic. But hey, what do I know?

In any event, while I continue to think the whole thing is a big fucking joke, I was again struck this year by the selections for induction. Several notable names were nominated, but only 7 get inducted. I’m not going to go through the whole list as –- again -– none of it really matters. That all said, the MC5 had been nominated. Certain other favorite bands of mine were nominated, too, notably Devo and Kraftwerk. That neither of those bands are getting inducted this year isn’t entirely surprising to me, as many folks continue to misunderstand them. Most people are too stupid to appreciate their respective genius, as far as I'm concerned.

But The MC5 -– one of the most straightforward rock’n’roll bands to ever grace a stage -- aren’t getting inducted either.

I am hard pressed to name a band that more purely embodies everything rock’n’roll is supposed to be about than the MC5. They practically define it. But they’re not getting in. Janet Jackson is, but the MC5?

No.

Chew on that.

By the way, this is not a dig at Janet Jackson. She’s obviously great at what she does -– but is what she does more rock’n’roll than the MC5?

Is ANYTHING more rock’n’roll than the MC5?

Here’s a quick refresher course.