Flaming Pablum

The Soft Solution

Hey again, all … we’re still doing some tinkering at the back end, trying to parse the comment-leaving problems. We may find a solution, or we may not. I’ve reverted back to the old design, as I personally prefer it, and it’s got sort of what I project as an established identity. If I have to change it, I will, but not sure we’re there, as yet.

In any case, I do have some stuff coming up, including a Flaming Pablum Interview with Tod [A] of Firewater/Cop Shoot Cop and a rumination on Ungano’s, a fabled, long-vanished rock club in the unlikely environs of the Upper West Side. I’m looking forward to unleashing that one.

In the short term, however, please enjoy this live recording of The Soft Boys performing at the Portland Arms in Cambridge, England in 1978. This is, of course, Robyn Hitchcock’s first band (since we’ve been discussing him, of late), and it’s both an amazing recording and entirely hilarious. If I’m not mistaken, the Portland Arms is still there in 2023.

Enjoy. Back Soon.

“OWW, MY EYES!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???”

Myself and the fine folks at Typepad, my blog provider, are trying to get to the bottom of that recurring time-out problem when it comes to leaving comments. As such, this blog may shortly be undergoing some visual changes, because we’re exploring the theory that my current design scheme might have something to do with the glitch.

I don’t want to change this design. I like this design. I genuinely am uncomfortable with change, but needs must, as they say.

In any case, don’t be alarmed, in the coming days, if you check back here and things look … different. Hopefully, it’ll only be temporary.

Cheers.

Feedback Fumble

I’d love to thank everybody for the uptick in feedback prompted by this post. I was pleasantly surprised to hear from so many of you and relieved that … as of yet, at least … there hasn’t been any vituperative invective or needless trolling. The day is young, of course.

Incidentally, for those of you who’ve tried to leave a comment and had this missive pop up….

We're sorry, but your session has expired. We cannot complete your request. Please refresh the page and try again.

…please know that I am working on rectifying the issue with the providing platform. In the short term, might I suggest emailing me directly via the link at the top of the bar on the left of your screen (under the ABOUT header). 

Keep’em comin’.

-The Management.

Point It at Daniel Ek Deux: The Hitchcock Kibosh?

In the wake of posting my curious Spotify quandary yesterday, I reached out to a number of different folks -– one a former colleague who now works within the Spotify organization. That individual didn’t immediately know what the answer was, but vowed to “look into it.”

Another colleague of mine, meanwhile, used to work for a indie label to which Robyn was fleetingly signed and has remained somewhat in touch with the great man. She said she’d fly the story by him, but he’s allegedly notorious for taking ages to answer texts and emails (which isn’t entirely surprising). That said, I have faith that he will eventually respond to her, so watch this space for that.

On top of all that, however, a regular reader named S. Norman (a cheeky allusion to a fabled Monty Python sketch involving a gargantuan hedgehog named “Spiny Norman”) helpfully wrote in with a very plausible explanation -– that it’s all Robyn’s doing.

Spiny cited two bits of evidence to back up his theory, the first being this 2020 Tweet from Robyn himself…

And the other being the following passage from this Brooklyn Vegan piece from August of that same year…

Robyn Hitchcock, who has been selling his paintings online to supplement income he would've made touring, says he's actively trying to get all his music off of Spotify and other similar services. "Needless to say, once I’ve clarified the digital distribution situation with my former label, all my past recordings and those of the Soft Boys that we have control of will be removed from exploitative streaming services."

Hitchcock's partner, Emma Swift (whose music is not on Spotify), broke the situation down with Robyn as the example. "Some math, brought you by hacking into @RobynHitchcock’s Spotify for Artists app. Based on these stats, RH would bring in 1.4 million streams per year. Which is about 5600 dollars. 50 percent which gets paid to his record label. In Robyn’s case, he is a prolific artist with more than 20 albums on there. He’s written over 500 songs. It has been his full-time job for 40 + years. He’s been playing guitar since before Daniel Ek was born. Mr Ek seems to think Robyn and artists like him don’t work hard enough. Record labels have made Mr Ek believe artists are utterly replaceable, when the fact is each artist is unique and special. We’re not iPhones. We have individual talents and gifts to offer." She adds that with an artist like Robyn, who had been on major and independent labels, getting off streaming services is not as easy as pushing a button. "It’s not as easy for signed musicians to boycott."

With all this in mind, I’d suggest that Robyn sounds like he’s in the process of doing all in his power keep his new music off Spotify and to remove all the music of his that’s already accessible there. That might conceivably include putting impediments towards his songs being put in playlists, right? Sounds possible. 

Personally speaking, while that somewhat thwarts my original intention of turning my son onto Robyn’s vast catalog of unique and vibrant music, I am 100% in support of Robyn’s position here. To further put my money where my very big mouth is, I’m also endeavoring to indoctrinate my burgeoning-music-fan son into the faith of the tactile artifact. With my daughter now sequestered back at college, I’ve offered to exhume from storage a portable turntable I bought a couple of years back at a school auction, set it up on his temporarily absent sister’s desk (they share a room) and give him full access to my unwieldy collection of vinyl LPs.

Once again, fuck Spotify.

Point It at Daniel Ek: My Mysterious Spotify Quandary

As previously mentioned, while I abhor the platform in question, I've started using Spotify more often, lately, as a means of evangelizing music to my kids. Charlotte doesn't really give a rat's ass, but Oliver's been fairly receptive, thus far. In any case, I started making him a playlist the other day of one of my favorite songwriters who's coming to town in a few weeks and who we hope to go see perform live. He's got a sprawling catalog, so it took a little while, but before I could complete it and send the link to Oliver, I got a “takedown notification” email saying: "We have found the following content to be in violation of our content policies, and we have removed it. Please see our Spotify Terms and Conditions of Use for more information."

Now, while it’s certainly true that I’m an avowed fan of several bands who trade in the brazenly objectionable, this was not a playlist packed with selections by naughty bands like the Revolting Cocks, Cop Shoot Cop, the Murder Junkies, Butthole Surfers, Pussy Galore or the Strangulated Beatoffs – this was simply a collection of songs by British singer/songwriter Robyn Hitchcock.

At first, I assumed this was a scam, but then sure enough, I looked at my Spotify account, and the title of the playlist had vanished. The playlist itself was still there, but there was a blank space where my title had been. I had called it– oh so imaginatively -– Robyn Hitchcock for Oliver. Beyond the fact that the word "cock" happens to appear as part of Robyn's surname (and, yes, it’s his actual name – no relation to Alfred), I cannot imagine what the problem might be.

As they’d voided that playlist title, however, I assumed that that was indeed the case, so I simply re-titled the playlist as Robyn H for Oliver. This morning, however, I woke to *another* takedown notice with the same reprimand. I mean, seriously, Spotify, what the actual fuck?

I perused the Terms and Conditions of Use page, but nothing really jumped out at me. While taste is all relative, I can roundly assure you that nothing in Robyn Hitchcock’s catalog – either with his bands The Soft Boys, The Egyptians or as a solo act – is really anything anyone could genuinly consider offensive, unless whimsical psychedelia and surrealist wit are now considered obscene.

Then, I consiered another explanation – however abjectly ridiculous. The opening track on my playlist is a Robyn rarity that I’d first heard on the great man’s collection of “leftovers and outtakes” called Invisible Hitchcock. Incidentally, don’t bother looking for Invisible Hitchcock on Spotify as, like these awesome nine albums, they don’t seem to have it, but that’s another matter entirely. While not the version I’d first to come to love, I used the version from the I Wanna Go Backwards box set of a song called “Point It at Gran.”

Is that what’s bugging Spotify? Do they deem that title as too aggressive or triggering?

Listen to it and you tell me if this is worthy of a takedown notice that says I violated their terms of service. The offending playlist, meanwhile, can be experienced beneath. You'll notice it has no title. Enjoy, if possible. 

Coming Up....

Just some visual hints about some upcoming content....

Assault in Greenwich Village III: Another Update

The New York Post ran a story yesterday, appended with a photo of the "suspect." And so did CBS, who provide intel about two other comparable attacks in the neighborhood, diminishing my doorman's theory that the maroon-hooded rage bro was after the victim's bag and more that he was just beating him up for the sake of beating him up. 

Be on the lookout, folks!

 

Any Feedback?

I’ve often remarked that, much like my Istagram page, I’d continue to log “content” on this blog whether anyone was reading it or not. For better or worse, this blog is as much for my own enjoyment as anyone else’s. The fact that I seem to have earned some regular readers is a contstant source of joy and amazement to me. Thanks for that!

That all said, the comments section has been pretty quiet, of late (apart from some entries from my dependable friend Howard). I’d love to hear from some more of you.

Are there some stories you’d rather read more about than others? Are there any entries you’d want me to revisit or update? Are there any topics you never want to see addressed here again? Any burning quesitons? Any nagging osbservations you’ve been dying to submit?

Now is your chance.

Some years back, I had to adjust the settings on the comments section, as I was getting routinely bombarded with some trolly remarks (usually involving political content). After a while of that, I felt I needed to do some filtering and vet comments before they appeared here, although I was not happy to have to do it. 

Just as a lark -- and I may soon deeply regret doing this -- I’m going to turn those filters off, so feel free to express yourselves. Bear in mind that I’m under no obligation to keep any impending comment posted if it’s filled with potty-mouthed invective or nasty personal attacks. But I want to encourage feedback, so have at it.

Bad Brains Mural Sullied by Awful ‘Screamo’ Band

It’s been less than a month since Shepard Fairey completed his Bad Brains mural over on Bleecker & Bowery, and it’s already been (slightly) defaced. I guess it was inevitable (Debbie Harry’s portrait suffered similar indignities), but really… so soon?

I noticed it this afternoon while out for a brisk walk in the January chill. Pasted just above H.R.’s fist was a flyer which has since been diligently removed, but the blemish on the paint remains.

As it turns out, the befouling flyer is the work of a so-called “screamo” band called … inexplicably … Olth. How do I know this? Well, they put an identical flyer up just a block or two up the Bowery. You can see that below.

Notice how bits of the yellow U and O in the “FUCK YOU” at the bottom remain? It’s the same flyer.

In any case, a bit of Googling reveals that Olth is indeed a band, albeit not an especially good one. But, again, as a fiercely opinionated 55-year-old curmudgeon, I’m the last person who should be opining about the merits of “screamo.” Maybe they’re the bee’s knees? Who knows ? If you're curious, you can see some footage of Olth performing live at Otto's Shrunken Head from back this past November. Also, their guitarist's Instagram page can be found here. 

Regardless of their strenuously arguable prowess as a band -- screamo or otherwise -- and irrespective of their feelings for Shepard Fairey, FUCK YE NOT WITH BAD BRAINS!

The Sounds of "After Hours": Redux

By this point, my adoration for Martin Scorsese’s “After Hours” from 1985 hasn’t so much been established as it has been beaten into bloody submission and into the cold, hard ground. What more, might you rightly ask, could I possibly have to say about it?

Well, the more patient among you might remember a post from way back in 2010, wherein I attempted to cull together all the music from both Howard Shore’s score and the various songs that should have otherwise appeared on the soundtrack album (which was never released). I put those up as YouTube clips and, as such, many of them are no longer live. With that, I thought an update was in order -- so here we are.

While I continue to bash Spotify at every opportunity, I did take advantage of the platform yet again (ooh, that warm smell of hickory-smoked hypocrisy) to build the following playlist, which showcases as much of the film’s original sounds as I could track down.

I say as much of because there is one key selection from the (again, non-existent) soundtrack of “After Hours” that is crucially missing. Somewhat ironically, it’s by an artist that, if I’m being honest, I fucking hate -– that being Joni Mitchell.

Some might remember the kerfuffle in January of 2022 when, in what seemed at the time like a bold act of defiance, iconic rocker Neil Young dramatically strippped his music off Spotify in protest of the platform’s continuing support of the irresponsible-idiocy-espounsing Joe Rogan. I wrote about it here and here, should you care. In a show of solidarity, meanwhile, some of Neil’s famous pals like Crosby, Stills & Nash and, once again, Joni Mitchell followed suit and removed their catalogs from Spotify, too. It seemed like legions of artist were poised to do the same and hit the preeminent streaming platform where it really hurts, but… they didn’t. Spotify, for their part, decided that Joe Rogan was more valauble that Neil Young & pals, to their business, and basically said “Suit yourselves, fuck-o's.”

Very quietly, after a short while, some of Neil’s music and pretty much all of CSN’s music sneakily crept back onto the platform. But did Joni blink? LIKE FUCK SHE DID! Joni Mitchell may make music that routinely sends me scrambling for the remote, but ya gotta respect the great lady for that.

Anyway, blah blah blah, as a heroic result, I cannot put “Chelsea Morning” on my “After Hours” playlist because, like all of these albums, you just can’t get it on fuckin' Spotify. I suppose I could use Neil Diamond’s version, but, really, no one will benefit from that.

So, for those of you besotted with the minutia of all things “After Hours” as I am, please enjoy The Sounds of ‘After Hours’ below.

Incidentally, the amazing poster up top is an alternative iteration I’d never seen before. I would slap that shit in a frame faster than you could say “Surrender, Dorothy!,” if it were up to me. I found on this site – check it out.