Flaming Pablum

A Sound of Thunder

I thought this was pretty cool.

As I understand it, "Thunder" is an experimental film from 1982 made by a Japanese director named Takashi Ito. I shan't do it any semblance of justice, so here's Wikipedia's description.

Thunder features a series of photographic slides of a woman repeatedly covering and uncovering her face with her hands, projected onto the interiors of an empty office building. The images bend and distort against the interior surfaces. Additionally, a long ribbon of light is seen curling and oscillating. The effect of the ribbon of light was produced using long-exposure photography, created frame-by-frame by a person with a flashlight moving throughout the building's rooms during long single-frame exposures.

Well, an intrepid YouTuber named Artomo Sardanapale got a little experimental on his own, and decided to score those cryptic visuals with one of my favorite b-sides by my beloved Cop Shoot Cop, that being "Transmission," which appeared on the 1995 CD single for "Any Day Now." A slow-burning, dystopian narrative of paranoia with a suitably encroaching sense of dread imbued deep within its buzzing, dissonant core, "Transmission" builds to a head when drummer Phil Puleo punctuates the refrain ..."WHAT IS YOUR POSITION? REPEAT TRANSMISSION!"... with jarring strikes of a snare drum, as the ominous intonation fades into the noise. It's not exactly a peppy dance number.

Anyway, here is the spot-welding of those two disparate elements. The title of this post, meanwhile, comes poached from a great Ray Bradbury short story from 1953 about a man who travels back in time to shoot a Tyrannosaurus Rex, only to unwittingly alter the trajectory of time in the process. 

A Fighting Chance

Spotted some sad news, today, regarding the welfare of a member of New York City’s own punk royalty and one of the preeminent figure of the “No Wave” scene. Not that he’s every seemed especially well, but the legendary James Chance is having a pretty tough time of it, these days. Beyond the death of his longtime girlfriend Judy Taylor back in October of 2020, Chance’s health and circumstances seem to be in perilous decline.

Back in January, one David Siegfriend, the organizer of this GoFundMe page designed to help Chance out, gave this update…

Dear Friends and Fans of James Chance, I need to update everyone on James's current status. His health issues of severe abdominal pain and spinal stenosis have not improved. But thanks to you, the GoFundMe donors, we have been able to keep James at his apartment at The Dorothy Ross Friedman Residence for the past three years. But now I have been informed by building management that they have decided to take legal action because they want to force James to move out of there and into an assisted living facility. A Medicaid assisted living facility would be a real downgrade in living conditions and he is vehemently against having to move, but we will have to see what happens and will have to abide by whatever the court decides. I hope everyone is doing well in the new year, and if you can find it in your heart to donate again, even a small amount, it will help a lot as the funds are running quite low and we're still hoping to reach our goal. Thanks, David S

Please checkout Siegfried’s GoFundMe page and donate if you can.

My friend Miles and I actually went to see James Chance perform, a few years back, when he was promoting his 2016 album, The Flesh is Weak at Bowery Electric, but I seem to remember having to leave early, inexplicably (Too crowed? Too hot? Too late to the stage? School night? Who remembers?), so I regrettably can never say I saw the great man play.

That said, I did once spot him being interviewed, circa 2017, on the stoop of 77 White Street, the former site of the Mudd Club. See that here. 

The picture up top of James Chance in his prime, meanwhile, was taken by none other than the great Julia Gorton, a truly remarkable and prescient photographer who captured an amazing swathe of images from New York City’s thriving underground scene in the late `70s and early `80s. Her striking, black-&-white photographs of folks like Chance, Lydia Lunch, Richard Hell, Debbie Harry, Tom Verlaine, Anya Phillips and a host of other notable downtowners have recently been collected into a stately coffee-table book called “Nowhere New York: Dark, Insulting + Unmelodic Photos by Julia Gorton.” Appended with essays, quotes and testimonials from period-specific luminaries, participants and spectators, “Nowhere New York” is a truly rare glimpse into the whole “No Wave” scene that – unlike some of its comparatively esoteric and textbooky predecessors – provides an illuminating and genuinely warm angle to proceedings. Portrayed by Gorton’s lens and embellished by personal anecdotes, fabled figures once locked in starkly grainy punk rock mythology became relatable, human individuals. Gordon’s book is a captivating vista into that whole era.

Find out more about it here.

Meanwhile, here’s a taste of James Chance in his prime….

Caving In

In the wake of the unimaginable deaths of two of his sons, Nick Cave has undergone a profound transformation. In his latest book, “Faith, Hope & Carnage,” he concedes that he’ll most likely never make another noisy, guitar-based rock’n’roll record ever again, suggesting that he wouldn’t even know how to begin. And while I do appreciate his more recent elegiac works like Skeleton Tree and the sprawling Ghosteen, I cannot help but mourn the departure of the more feral, bloodthirsty exhorter that was the Nick Cave I first discovered in the late `80s.

Meanwhile, Nick's Red Hand Files continues to be a great source of inspiring discourse. Find that here. 

Back to The Met

I’ve already privately evangelized it to a few select individuals, but if you’re an acolyte of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the Upper East Side of Manhattan for ANY reason (childhood nostalgia, its tireless capacity as a sanctuary of solace or simply …duh… the art contained therein), you need to go track down the new book, “All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me” by Patrick Brinkley.

Ultimately the memoir of a journalist who loses an older brother to prostate cancer, Bringley recuses himself from a plush job at The New Yorker in order to become a guard at the Met. I’m only half way through, but his poignant ruminations on the art and the location and the magical power of the institution are well worth your time, if you are similarly inclined.

Find out more here.

Fermenting New Firewater: Tod [A] Looks Ahead

With the possible exception of Killing Joke, I don’t think there’s a band I’ve scribbled more about here than Cop Shoot Cop, the former NYC-based, clangy noise-rock ensemble of one Tod [A], who bowed out of said band, in the mid-`90s, during the recording of what would have been their fifth studio LP. Upon leaving C$C under arguably not the most amicable of circumstances, Tod turned his attention to forming Firewater, a loose collective of musicians who’d go onto to explore, over seven diverse albums, a far broader vista of musical styles than Tod’s previous band was ever likely to dare. Largely jettisoning Cop Shoot Cop’s full-frontal industrial assault in favor of a sinuous amalgam of influences from klezmer to ska to Middle-Eastern folk music to Romani to bhangra to sea shanties to Russian drinking songs to straight-ahead punk fucking rock and virtually all points and ports of global call in between, Tod’s inherent sense of wanderlust became deeply imbued into the music he was making. Putting his money where his mouth was, by the band’s sixth album, 2008’s The Golden Hour, Tod pulled up stakes and set out on a formidable trek across the imposing terrain between New Delhi, India and Istanbul, Turkey, recording with local musicians along the way. This experience not only fueled that album -– arguably Firewater’s finest -– but also served as fertile fodder for his first novel, “Banging the Monkey,” which surfaced in 2019.

I’ve been friends with Tod since the very early `90s, when I was tasked with writing up a cover story for a local freebie news weekly about “a hot new band that typifies the New York sound and sensibility.” Without skipping a beat, I chose Cop Shoot Cop, having become enamored of their wilfully chaotic live performances, their boldly unconventional approach (two basses, no guitars), their dark sense of humor (lost on large swathes of their audience), their unwieldy aesthetic and their cryptic poster campaign. Over the course of Cop Shoot Cop’s tumultuous rise and fall and then into the Firewater years, Tod and I have spilled many gallons of beer and ink about our respective trajectories. Now ensconced full-time in Istanbul, Tod only gets to New York City every so often, and he and I only get to convene in person every couple of years or so, usually around the holidays. The last time he was in town back in December, we caught up for a drink at an old favorite, the Ear Inn on the westerly end of Spring Street, and it dawned on me that I’d never subjected the poor guy to the Flaming Pablum Interview. So now, joining the estimable ranks of Big Paul Ferguson of Killing Joke, Chris Egan of Missing Foundation, RB Korbet of Even Worse, Erik Sanko of Skeleton Key, Fran Powers of Modern Clix, J Yuenger of White Zombie, Brooke Smith of Sunday Matinee, Don Rauf of Life in a Blender, and Andi Harriman of Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace, here with the Flaming Pablum Interview with Tod [A]…

FP: You’ve now been living in Turkey for almost 12 years. How’s that going? Of all the places you’ve lived, how does Istanbul compare?

I've lived in NYC, Denpasar, Phnom Penh, Calcutta, Surat Thani and now Istanbul. Though I didn't expect to be here quite so long, I can't complain about the city. Istanbul is the NYC of Turkey: it's a port city, which means it's quite multi-cultural. The cost of living is far less than NYC, and the town has public transport that doesn't reek of urine. It has a lot more cats and a lot less rats (do the math). I guess I feel as at home here as I have felt anywhere else, though the current Turkish government leaves much to be desired. Hopefully the people of Turkey will get rid of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named in the upcoming 2023 general election.

It’s been eleven years since you released International Orange, but now, I gather, have new music demoed and ready to be recorded — can you give us an update?

Having decided to procreate, I took some time off from recording and touring to concentrate on raising my daughter. I didn't want to be the father who was never there. In the meantime, I wrote fifty songs. I am now a free agent and I think I'm almost ready to get back to recording and touring. We shall see who winds up releasing these records.

Firewater has counted many illustrious names in its ranks, over the years — are you in touch with all those players? Might we hear from them again on the next LP?

Yes, we are mostly all still buddies. It's quite possible there will be some appearances from old friends once it's time to go into the studio and begin touring again.

If you had to characterize the direction and sound of the new material, how would you do so?

My itinerant lifestyle has certainly colored the new batch of songs, melodically, sonically, and rhythmically. There is a Turkish flavor to many of them. But somehow I can't seem to scrape all the American mud off my boots. I feel like my time abroad has given me perspective to write about the country of my birth.

Your first novel, “Banging the Monkey” was published in 2019. Are there more books in you waiting to come out?

Yes. I am working on a few new books at the moment: a novel (for adults), and some others for children. But I take my time. They will be done when they are done.

You were recently back in the States and in New York City for the first time in a while. How does your former home turf feel to you in the wake of all that’s happened?

I still love NYC. But as I told you when I saw you last, I feel safer raising my daughter in a quasi-dictatorship like Turkey where almost nobody has a gun, than in America where everyone seems to own multiple firearms.

In 2016, you joined some of your former Cop Shoot Cop bandmates for the commentary track of the live DVD New York Post Punk / Noise Series 1. Are you still back in contact with those guys today?

Yes, I am in touch with Jim Coleman and Phil Puleo and we are on good terms. During the lockdowns, we made some sporadic attempts to collaborate from afar, but nothing seemed to catch fire. Jim and Phil seem to be doing quite well with Human Impact, so more power to them.

Is there any Firewater (or, for that matter, Cop Shoot Cop) material left “in the vault,” so to speak? Stuff that was never released? If so, will it ever see the light of day?

Yes, there is quite a bit. But tracks get left in the vault for a reason, usually because they weren't quite ready.

What’s your take on the music of today? Are there any new artists you’re particularly enthused about? What have you been listening to?

When I was a young punk I thought the way to move forward was to obliterate the past. Now I'm much more interested in the historical continuity of music. I'm trying to catch up on the homework I should have done when I was 21, learning the musical secrets of all the songs I love. I'm delving back into the past: jazz, the birth of rock 'n' roll. I listen to a lot of early blues, jazz, folk and psychedelia. Mainly I'm focused on developing as a songwriter and composer. I've been studying soundtracks (Morricone, Elfman, Zimmer), and I try to learn from the lyricists I admire (Dylan, Waits, Bowie).

Of all the spots you lived around New York City, which was your favorite, and why?

It was definitely fun living in Williamsburgh in the late 80's – early 90's. The rents were incredibly cheap, and there was much fun to be had exploring the empty buildings. I remember setting fire to an abandoned car in a vacant lot and watching it burn. Neither police nor the fire department ever came. That's how much of a no man's land it was at that time.

…which was your least favorite, and why?

By the time I moved to Bushwick, I had already pretty much had it with NYC. The locals weren't too enthused about the bohemian gringos encroaching on their turf, so there was quite a bit of aggro. Also, I was arrested for drinking a beer on the street outside my building, about 20 feet away from the corner where a bunch of jackasses had been selling smack and crack for years. So once I got out of jail, I was off to Thailand.

Where in the world is the food the best?

Italy, of course. I have worked there a lot, and the Italians really know what they are doing. But I also love Thai street food. Such an amazingly subtle combination of flavors. And usually $1 a plate. Indian and Mexican. Turkish food is also amazing.

What’s your favorite Firewater album?

The Golden Hour certainly was the most fun to make. The adventure of recording it, in India, Pakistan, and Indonesia, combined with working with my buddies in Tel Aviv to complete it. Everything seemed to come together on that record.

What’s your least favorite? Why?

International Orange was a nightmare to make. My record company didn't support the concept, so I had to cut a lot of financial corners. As a result, even though the songs were as good as those on The Golden Hour, the sound quality on International Orange suffered because of budget problems. I would love to re-record those songs someday. My ugly experience making International Orange also made me want to wait until I could afford to record in the right way.

What’s your favorite Cop Shoot Cop album?

Release. At that time CSC was firing on all pistons, and we had producer David Sardy at the controls. After that record, everything went rapidly south for the band.

What’s your least favorite? Why?

White Noise. It just hasn't aged well.

The irony here is the White Noise continues to be my favorite album by the band. It’s aged just fine, to my ears.

Why do the vinyl re-releases of Get Off the Cross... and Golden Hour have different cover art?

When Scott Schaefer approached me about doing vinyl releases of the Firewater catalog, I saw it as an opportunity to make something special. So I decided to re-make all the covers by hand. It's been really fun to re-imagine the art. The vinyl series will be continued in the near future.

Beyond from family and friends, what do you miss most about the United States?

A genuine NYC slice, and a real bagel. And not much else.

What sort of music is your daughter listening to?

I knew going into this parenting thing that I had a window of maybe four or five years in which I could vet the music my daughter would hear. Being a control freak, I took full advantage of those years. I wanted her developing brain to get a solid grounding in classic melody and song structure before she was exposed to bullshit musical 'content' from off the internet. So I made her tons of mix tapes: nursery rhymes; classical stuff like Carl Orff, Peter and the Wolf, and the Nutcracker; plus kid-friendly songs from folks like Raffi, the Beatles, Donovan, Ivor Cutler, Monty Python, Spike Jones, Woody Guthrie and the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band.

Yeah, well, to answer your question, the window has closed. You don't want to know what sort of music torture I am subjected to now. I can't wait till she's a teenager, and will start hitting me with some cool sounds.

What was the best concert you ever attended?

I can't name just one: Black Flag at some bowling alley in New Jersey circa 1984, Nirvana at the Reading Festival circa 1992, Tom Waits at the Beacon Theater 1999, Bone Machine tour, Motorhead in Istanbul, 2011. Plus any Jesus Lizard show. 

What five albums can you not live without?

Ramones - Ramones
Tom Waits - Rain Dogs
The Doors - The Doors
David Bowie - Diamond Dogs
Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited

The best songwriter is….

There are seven: Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, David Bowie, Robyn Hitchcock, Leonard Cohen, and Ivor Cutler. (and me.)

Goodbye, 2022!

Yes, well, I suppose it's time to dust off this inane survey, once again, and take a look back at 2022. Seat-belts on, kids! 

What did you do in 2022 that you'd never done before?

Got myself a “global entry” card.

Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I don’t think I made any, thus I did not keep any. At this stage of the proceedings, if I make any bold declarations about swearing off anything, I’m pretty much dooming myself to fail. That all said, I could certainly stand to drink less beer, stay on top of my finances and keep my medical appointments. 

Did anyone close to you give birth?

No one in my immediate circle, no.

Did anyone close to you die?

Again, no one in my immediate circle, mercifully.

What countries did you visit?

We went to Greece and Scotland, and I highly recommend both. 

What would you like to have in 2023 that you lacked in 2022?

Oh, I’m not sure. I not inclined to spend time dwelling on the things I don’t have.

What date from 2022 will remain etched upon your memory?

August 20th, the day we left our Charlotte at college in Scotland and flew home to NYC without her.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Staying marginally healthy and gainfully employed.

What was your biggest failure?

My inability to impose some semblance of restraint and willpower.

Did you suffer illness or injury?

I have a continuing grievance with my left foot that I still need to see a podiatrist about. And, yes, I, too, eventually got COVID. 

What was the best thing you bought?

I honestly can’t remember. Well, I bought some concert tickets for my son that made him very happy. That’s always good.

Whose behavior merited celebration?

My kids. They have their moments like everyone else, but for the most part, they are kind, bright, do well in school and are genuinely lovely human beings.

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Trump, Kanye West, Elon Music, various members of the Supreme Court and Republicans in general.

What did you get really, really excited about?

My daughter getting into college.

Where did most of your money go?

My building’s being assessed, at the moment, and our monthly fees have gone up significantly … and will stay that way until fuckin’ February 2024, hence the comment above about needing to impose restraint and willpower when it comes to all things financial.  

What song will always remind you of 2022?

I don’t know if it’ll always remind of 2022, but perhaps “The Man I’ll Never Find” by Lucius.

Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?

I’d say about the same. I have concerns like everyone else, but overall, I have no right to complain about one damn thing.

Thinner or fatter?

Oh, invariably fatter.

Richer or poorer?

As mentioned above, we’re currently slightly financially compromised, so technically “poorer.”

What do you wish you'd done more of?

Taking care of things in real time as opposed to continually putting them off.

What do you wish you'd done less of?

Spending irresponsibly. I mean, I didn’t splurge, or anything, but in light of our current situation, some self-imposed austerity would’ve been a benefit.

How did you spend Christmas?

Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but we’re planning on spending it out at my mom’s place in Quogue.

Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?

No idea.

Did you fall in love in 2022?

I’ve been in love with -- and married to -- her for over 21 years.

How many one-night stands in this last year?

Zero.

What was your favorite TV program?

I quite liked “White Lotus 2,” “Slow Horses” and crime drama on Britbox called “Sherwood.”

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

I still hate most of the same folks – Trump, Trump supporters, key Republicans and various members of the Supreme Court.

What was the best book you read?

“Feral City” by Jeremiah Moss.

What was your greatest musical discovery?

Already discussed on this post.

What did you want and get?

Depeche Mode tickets for myself and my son, but oof were they ever expensive.

What did you want and not get?

Trump rotting in prison for the rest of this miserable fucking life.

What were your favorite films of this year?

Honestly cannot remember. Don’t bode well, does it.

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 55, which is not a number I’m okay with.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Trump’s conviction and permanent incarceration.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2022?

I own way, way too many dumb rock t-shirts for a 55-year-old.

What kept you sane?

Once again, who said anything about being sane?

What celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I never know what to do with this question, as every answer is going to sound creepy and inappropriate.

What political issue stirred you the most?

January 6 Committee

Who did you miss?

There was already a long list (as mentioned in this post), but Wilko Johnson, Jet Black and this week’s loss of Terry Hall of the Specials really hit me hard.

Who was the best new person you met?

The lovely ladies of Desperately Seeking the 80's, of course. 

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2022

Not everything is worth an argument. Pick your battles.

Song lyric that sums up 2022

I've come here to make a ceramic shoe
And I've come to smash what you made
- Dry Cleaning

The Gausten List: All the Musicians I've Interviewed

I’ve never met Joel Gausten “in the flesh,” but we tred in very comparable circles. A kindred spirit in both taste and sensibility, Joel is a fellow rabid music nerd and avid writer who already has a few books to his name, by this point, as well as one salaciously nocturnal memoir. I think I first encountered him, several years back, as I’d picked up a book he’d self-published about one of my favorite bands, Prong, and we’ve been in touch -– largely via social media -– pretty much ever since. Beyond his literary pursuits, Joel is also a musician, having drummed with bands like The Undead, Electric Frankenstein and Pigface. He’s a busy man, our Joel.

I think the thing that strikes me most about Joel is his drive. On the best of days, music journalism is a truly punishing vocation that doesn’t accrue much respect, let alone revenue, from the rest of the world, but Joel is undaunted and ever-busy. Joel splits his time between these passions and, if I’m not mistaken, doing some meaningful, hands-on social work, `cos ya can’t be Johnny Punk-Rock all the time, I guess.

In any case, in revamping his bio, Joel recently posted a list of everyone, off the top of his head, that he’s ever interviewed, and it’s a formidable array of diverse musicians ranging from Gene Simmons of KISS through Dot Wiggin of The Shaggs, and pretty much everyone in between (you might be able to see the first iteration of that list here). The sheer breadth of Joel’s list speaks to his voracious enthusiasm for music and his wide, catholic tastes.

I’d started off on a comparable path as Joel’s, channeling my life-long love of music into something of a career when, upon graduating college, I landed an internship at SPIN (which I’ve mentioned a few times before, most recently here). My time at SPIN led me further to an involvement with a plucky, independent start-up called The New York Review of Records (which I’ve also mentioned a few times here, most notably here). From there, I went onto write and contribute to a host of different periodicals, for a while, including magazines like Creem, the confusingly named Huh! (an offshoot of Raygun) a short-lived project called Exit!. After a while, I succumbed to the allure of a more lucrative aspect of journalism and took a low-level gig at LIFE Magazine which, in turn, led me to a 12-year stint at TIME magazine. After TIME, as some of you might remember, I hopscotched between gigs at The New Yorker (I wrote blurbs for their Goings On About Town section for ten years), MTV News Online, MSN and then TODAY.com. After being aggressively let go from the latter, I waffled in obscurity for a hot second before ditching journalism in favor of corporate communications, where I am now. I’m now a director of content, video and editorial services for the corporate communications and marketing department of a performance rights organization. So, I’m still writing about music, but just not in the capacity of a critic or journalist.

In any case, in looking at Joel’s tremendous list, I started thinking of all the folks I’d interviewed in those early days. And while nowhere near as comprehensive as Joel’s, it was a fun tally to compose. From what I can recall off the top of my head, here’s who I’ve interviewed….

I spoke with Wayne Hussey of The Mission on a brilliantly sunny day on Liberty Island in the shadow of the statue (I believe the idea was that Wayne wanted to replicate a certain famous picture of John Lennon). I chatted with a young Trent Reznor in a cramped backstage room at the New Ritz on West 54th Street, wherein he spent the entirety of our discussion fiddling with his then-newly pierced septum (which he evidently tired quickly of, as he hasn’t sported a ring there since). I spoke with a very amped-up Robert Vincent of short-lived British indie next-big-thing ensemble Birdland in the lobby of a long-vanished venue on West 21st Street called The Marquee. I dined and debated with the full membership of Pop Will Eat Itself at long-vanished Asian drag bar Lucky Cheng’s on First Avenue. I had a spirted conversation with Jeff and Steve McDonald of Redd Kross in a coffee shop just off Times Square. I have protracted exchange in clipped English with Treponem Pal vocalist Marco Neves at another coffee shop on Grand Street on the Lower East Side. I was treated to the full membership of Killing Joke at the Notell Motel, then on Avenue A. I traded war stories with Tod [A] and Cripple Jim Coleman of Cop Shoot Cop at the late, lamented CB’s Pizza & Record Canteen on the Bowery. I listened to John S. Hall of King Missile moan about his record company at Sin-E on St Marks Place. I had a lovely chat with Tim Booth of James in a trailer behind the main stage at a festival in Finsbury Park in London. I had a meandering conversation with Gavin Friday in the charming TriBeCa apartment of his publicist on White Street. I took sweaty dictation in a Harlem brownstone from the translator for Senegalese singer Yousou N’Dour. I had a brief exchange with Dave Gedge of the Wedding Present at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, conducted a discussion with all three members of Material Issue on the disused second floor of the midtown Hard Rock Café, tried to make sense of the full membership of Blur talking at me at once in the cozy confines of the former Yaffa Café on St. Marks Place, had an intense intel-breakdown with Henry Rollins in a loading dock on West 21st street and had the keyboardist and bass player of EMF abruptly leave an interview early after a certain editor of mine had unwittingly showed them a not-so-positive review of their album that I’d written. Yikes.

In stodgy corporate board rooms, I’ve sat across the table with microphone in hand with Mike Berenyi and Chris Acland of Lush, the full membership of Ash, Jonn Penny of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, Miles Hunt of the Wonder Stuff, Cathal Coughlan of Fatima Mansions, Toni Halliday of Curve, Rob Jones of the Venus Beads, Shaun Ryder of Happy Mondays, both members of A.R. Kane and all four cool-cat wiseacres in Sonic Youth.

I’ve done “phoners” with Bono of U2, Marky Ramone of the Ramones, Kurt Ralske of Ultra Vivid Scene, Shirley Manson of Garbage, Mike D. of the Beastie Boys, action-hero and Hong Kong singing sensation Jackie Chan, Wyclef Jean of the Fugees, Jim Reid of the Jesus & Mary Chain, Andy Prieboy of Wall of Voodoo, Guy Kyser of Thin White Rope, Julianne Regan of All About Eve, Pete Shelley of the Buzzcocks, Matt Cameron of Soundgarden, Andrew Eldridge of the Sisters of Mercy, Martin Atkins of PiL/Killing Joke/Ministry, Salli Carson of Bleach and Jon Brookes of The Charlatans.

For this silly blog, I’ve interviewed Chris Egan of Missing Foundation, RB Korbet of Even Worse, Big Paul Ferguson of Killing Joke, Fran Powers of Modern Clix, Erik Sanko of Skeleton Key, J Yuenger of White Zombie, Don Rauf of Life in a Blender and Brooke Smith, actress and NYHC veteran. For my current job, I’ve interviewed the Flatbush Zombies, Jesse Malin, Amy Rigby and Alice Goddamn Cooper.

I was supposed to do a phoner for my current job with Jon Popper of Blues Traveler who I’ve never. He blew me off and never called.

Whatever.

Jeremiah Exhumes a Mystery Band

Longtime blogging compatriot and celebrated author Jeremiah Moss made what I consider an amazing discovery today and posted it on his Instagram account. As many will recall, the iconic Gem Spa on the corner of Second Avenue and St. Marks Place closed back in 2020, and has been basically a dormant shell ever since. Well, there’s been an uptick in activity in its footprint, of late, and in removing the plywood facades and scaffolding, a remarkable artifact from a vanished age was uncovered.

Among a selection of weathered, age-old flyers, this one below was newly revealed on a pole, advertising what looks to be a glam band from 1974. Oddly enough, the gig in question was for a venue way uptown on East 84th and York Avenue called Brandy’s II. This same year, notorious proto-punk electronic duo Suicide also played Brandy’s II a couple of times. 

The original Brandy’s, of course, is a fabled piano bar which was a big favorite of the Upper East Side’s gay community (and still there, happily, in 2022). Brandy’s II, meanwhile, was situated at 1584 York Ave. I actually lived in this very neighborhood from about 1983 until about 1996, although I believe Brandy’s II was already long-gone before I moved in. The notion of a rock club being right in the neighborhood was already nigh on unthinkable. Until recently, that spot that had been Brandy's II was simply a watering hole called ... Saloon, but I believe that, too, is now gone. 

Here’s a closer shot of the band in question — does anyone recognize these happenin’ hepcats?

Incidentally, if you haven’t already, you really need to pick up a copy of Jeremiah Moss’ second book, “Feral City.” Ostensibly an account of Moss’ time voluntarily sequestered in Manhattan during the extent of the pandemic (not that it’s over, mind you), “Feral City” is also a remarkably personal memoir of one individual’s perceptions of the acute changes New York City has undergone during this particularly fraught period of history. It’s a raw and bracing read that pulls very few punches. But Moss’ eloquence, unflinching candor and human compassion shine throughout, even when he’s at his most curmudgeonly. “Feral City” provides a compelling voice to demographics, issues and concerns that otherwise have to fight for equal time and representation in our current cultural and sociopolitical climate. It can be uncomfortable in spots, but it is well worth your time.

The Evolution of Bleecker & Bowery

For those of you who are invested in such things, you’ve probably already seen that the next iteration of the mural on the southwest corner of Bleecker Street at the Bowery, which I recently invoked here, is complete. That’s it up above and, yes, it’s another Shepard Fairey piece, this one paying tribute to Bad Brains by way of a rendered composite of images from the photography of my former next-door neighbor, Glen E. Friedman. That’s it above.

Now that this work is complete, I thought I’d turn back the clock to look at what this particular patch of real estate borne witness to, over the years….

In 1982, as I recounted here and here, photographer Drew Carolan set up an ersatz, outdoor film studio on this same corner to capture images of the burgeoning NYHC community, which he’d later compile into a handsome coffee table book, “Matinee.” In writing about this project, I had my kids pose in the exact spot Carolan had used. See that below.

In 1983, Jim Jarmusch filmed an iconic scene of Eszter Balint crossing this particular byway as part of the opening montage of his 1984 film, “Stranger Than Paradise,” which I tried to replicate with my kids as some point in 2012.

Skipping way ahead to 2015, a mysterious mural of Joey Ramone sporting a pair of boxing gloves came up. I speculated as to why, but then it occurred to me, as recounted on this post, that it was ultimately a wafer-thin and frankly misleading promotion for the then-just-opened UpperCut boxing gym, which I continue to think was stinky and lame of them. I was glad when it vanished.

Joey was replaced, of course, in 2017 by Shepard Fairey’s tribute to Blondie, which was completely cool. Despite this, it got defaced, a few times, but shitty taggers because people basically suck.

And now, five years later, Debbie Harry has been replaced by Bad Brains. I managed to capture a quick shot of Fairey himself, in the process.

 

From TriBeCa to Argentina & Back Again

The latest episode of Iñaki Rojas’ ongoing unspooling of the Modern Clix confluence (most recently discussed here) is out.

In a still-very-complicated nutshell, in 1983, Argentine rocker Charly Garcia had decamped to New York City was recording his upcoming album at Electric Lady Studios on West 8th Street and living in a loft on Waverly Place. He’d already decided on a title for the record, but when he and a photographer spotted a bit of compelling street art just off Cortlandt Alley on Walker Street in TriBeCa, all that changed. The ensuing photo found Garcia unwittingly sitting under one of the late Richard Hambleton’s “shadow men,” along with a tag by local punk rock scenester Fran Powers’ band, Modern Clix. Garcia named this album Clicks Modernos, unaware of these connections. The album in question went onto become, as I understand it, one of the preeminent albums of Argentine rock.

Sadly, Richard Hambleton passed away before ever learning that his artwork ended up on the sleeve of a massive-selling album. But writer/videographer Iñaki Rojas connected the dots (with some fleeting support of some old posts of mine) and reached out to Fran Powers and hipped him to this somewhat bizarre bit of artistic synergy. I’d only gotten to know Fran from recognizing him at a party thrown by Yukie Ohta of the SoHo Memory Project from Brooke Smith's photographs of the early New York Hardcore scene (happening just across town on the Bowery and Avenue A from the neighborhoods where Charly Garcia was hanging around, at the time). Funnily enough, Brooke Smith just released a sprawling coffee table book of these photographs (which I interviewed her about quite recently) and held a book signing at Generation Records on Thompson Street JUST LAST NIGHT, which I, of course, went to, where she was interviewed by Drew Stone, who I spoke about yesterday.  The whole thing is quite bizarre.

Sadly, Fran Powers passed away last year. Charly Garcia, meanwhile, is still with us. He’s 71 and living in Buenos Aires. In the wake of all this, I decided to hunt down his album, and have spent the last couple of days checking it out. Not sure what I was expecting, but it’s actually pretty great — despite me not being able to decipher what he’s singing about.

In any case, here’s Iñaki’s latest installment of the series. You'll want to turn on the English subtitles (just click on the CC on the bottom bar of the YouTube screen). I make a tiny cameo.