Flaming Pablum

Happy Thanksgiving from Flaming Pablum

10 Things You Could Do as a New York City High Schooler in the `80s That You Can't Do Today

My son Oliver is almost 18. I was recently in a conversation with a friend from high school -- who isn’t married and never had kids -- about what native New York teenagers do, now, when they’re not in school. Where do they go? What are their favorite activities? What does Oliver and his gang get up to when they get together and go hang out?

I had to confess that I didn’t really know. I mean, I know where he goes and who he’s spending time with, for the most part, but in terms of the minutia of what they get up to, I really cannot say. But, y’know, at the risk of lapsing into predicatable proud-parent mode, he’s a good kid -– he’s smart, he does well in school, he’s gracious, polite and kind and he has a nice circle of friends. I trust him.

But this sparked a further discussion about what we did and where we went, when we were his age, and how so many of those activities, attractions and destinations are all gone, which prompted me to compose the following ... needlessly.

10 THINGS YOU DID/PLACES YOU WENT AS A HIGH SCHOOLER IN NEW YORK CITY THAN YOU CAN'T TODAY....

1.Freak out at Laser Floyd at the Hayden Planetarium (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

2. Hang out for hours at Tower Records (both Village and UWS). (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

3. Eat credibly decent pizza at credibly decent pizzerias (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

4. Waste astonishing amounts of quarters at Station Break arcade in Penn Station. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

5. Find cool-AND-AFFORDABLE clothes at Canal Street Jean Co. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

6. Go to cult films like "Repo Man" and "Suburbia" at the 8th Street Playhouse. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

7. Get into (and dance within) Danceteria on West 21st Street. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

8. Buy comics and British rock mags at SohoZat on West Broadway. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

9. Find cool stuff at flea markets in SoHo and Chelsea. 

10. See a movie on East 86th Street. (I spoke about this in greater detail here).

Bootleggin’ & Beat Diggin’ at Second Coming Records

I’ve invoked Second Coming Records on Sullivan Street, here, several times. Simply put, alongside similarly inclined concerns like Bleecker Bob’s, It’s Only Rock N’ Roll, Venus Records, Record Runner, Subterranean Records, Rebel Rebel and Rocks In Your Head, it was just a completely crucial destination for music nerds of a certain stripe, and that stripe was mine. As such, I come back to it often, here, pretty much any time I spot a fleeting invocation of it. Evidence of its comparatively brief existence is scant and infrequent, so when I do see a bit of it, I leap on it. This is one of those times.

Apropos of absolutely nothing at all, on this rainy Sunday morning, I opened up Google and typed “Second Coming Records” into the search field. Amid the entries that first came up — most of them from this blog — I spotted a couple of new items. The first was yet another account, this time from a self-proclaimed “anti-piracy services” blog, about the infamous 1996 raid on Second Coming, prompted by their admittedly brazen sideline in selling bootleg recordings (something that gradually superseded all their other business), that ultimately spelled the demise of their business. As if anyone needed another reason to hate this band's fucking guts, it was evidently Hootie & the Blowfish (or, more accurately, their manager and their attorney) that were instrumental in the pursuit of Second Coming Records. Dicks.

Let’s just get something out the way — while it’s true Second Coming were technically selling copyright-controlled material, no one was buying these recordings instead of sanctioned commercial releases. I bought fucking dozens of bootleg cassettes from Second Coming — usually by The Clash, The Cure, The Cult, The Sisters of Mercy, The Mission, The Stranglers, Devo, XTC, U2 and — wait for it — Killing Joke, and they were almost exclusively shoddy live recordings marketed directly to bug-eyed, completist fanboys (like myself) who wanted to hear rare live versions of canonical songs, however dubiously wobbly of quality they invariably were. They were practically novelty items designed to satiate the feverish curiosity of only the most die-hard acolytes, and you’d have to be an irretrievably stupid individual to mistake these items for legitimate releases. No one was buying these tapes who wasn’t already committed to dutifully lapping up every bit of official product from the artists in question, fuckin’ Hootie or otherwise.

There’s a bit of irony in that, only a few short years later, the advent of file-sharing on the internet and the dawn of Napster would make the music industry’s campaign to stamp out the sale of bootleg live recordings seem like incalculably small potatoes.

Anyway, Second Coming closed up shop towards the end of the `90s, largely as the result of this episode.

The other new item about Second Coming I saw, however, was — crazily enough — a t-shirt (albeit already sold out) with the image from the top of this post on it.

I clicked on through and found it in the shop section of a Danish concern, appended with this explainer….

Street view of the legendary record store Second Coming, New York - captured by DJ JSPR in 1996. Second Coming was one of the most frequented record stores in New York for cratediggers during the 90s. Several scenes from the Beat Diggin' documentary by JSPR were shot in the shop

The plot thickened….

As it turns out, DJ JSPR is … beyond being a DJ … a film director named Jasper Jensen who, in 1997, made a documentary about the practice of “beat digging,” in other words, intrepid Hip-Hop producers scouring through dusty record shops in search of the perfect instrumental breaks to sample, scratch and repurpose for Hip-Hop records. It’s striking to think of those guys mining Second Coming for that sort of stuff, being that, by and large, Second Coming stocked predominantly punk, post-punk, metal, goth, hardcore and just basic, straight-ahead rock, but I guess that’s a testament to the resourceful innovation of Hip-Hop. 

In any case, JSPR was so enamored of the place (albeit for entirely different reasons than I) that he not only featured it in his film (which I’d now love to see in its entirety) but slapped the image on a now out-of-print shirt. 

Here’s the trailer...

Today, the original space of Second Coming Records — after spells as both a Mexican food joint and a tattoo parlor — is a Thai restaurant called Top Thai.

I’ve never eaten there.

Wobbly on Wooster Street

 

 

 

 

 

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A post shared by Trisha Brown Dance Company (@trishabrowncompany)

Are You Frustrated, Too?

Downtown in The Silent Seventies

Here is another couple of these strange artefacts from YouTube, featuring archival street scenes of a since-vanished New York City.

The first one was captured at an indeterminate point in the 1970’s, and shot primarily in downtown Manhattan. While it’s simple to make out easily-indentified locations like Astor Place, Tompkins Square Park and St. Marks Place, the whole piece feels entirely removed from the incarnations of those places here in 2023. Even the faces of those passing by the camera look somewhat strange. Where are these individuals today? 

The whole effect is almost eerie. Here’s the blurb that goes with it:

n the 1970s, New York City underwent profound social and cultural transformations. It was a haven for artists, musicians, and creatives amid economic challenges. Neighborhoods like Greenwich Village and SoHo buzzed with artistic and cultural movements, while Studio 54 epitomized the exuberant nightlife. Yet, the city grappled with rising crime and urban decay, reflecting a complex social reality. Immigration contributed to a mosaic of ethnic communities, enriching the city with unique cultural and culinary experiences. The decade witnessed racial tensions and political changes, but the resilience and creativity of New Yorkers continued to shape the city's identity, leaving a lasting mark on its history.

The second clip is also silent, but shot on Super-8 film on, evidently, a Monday in the late summer of 1978. This filmmaker is a gent named Bud Tristano, who has a thing or two to say about it, specifically its depiction of Ray’s Pizza…

A word about "The Famous Rays" pizza place, on the corner of 6th Avenue and 11th Street. This was not the first place to use the name "Ray", and definitely not the last. So many pizzerias sprang up all over the city - using the name "Ray" in various forms - that it became a joke. But this one was different, and not associated with any other. It was the classic New York Pizza, in the Italian-American sense, when almost any pizza joint in the NY/NJ area was amazing. (Think "old world" meets "new world".) It retained this quality up through the 80s, and even into the early 90s. Yes you can find a good quality pizza now, but it takes some searching. And the better ones are more gourmet oriented. This was a f'n PIZZA, in the meat-and-potatoes sense.

Enjoy

On The Last Day: The 2023 Summer Survey

I wasn’t originally going to do another one of these, because … honestly … why would anyone care? But, then again, that same argument could be applied to pretty much every entry I post here, so, fuck it…here goes.

Defining Moment of Summer 2023
At the risk of drudging it all back up, I’d suggest the defining element of my summer involved my stupid, broken foot and having to wear that goddamn boot (see above) for four weeks. The worst of it is that here on the precipice of Autumn, it still doesn’t feel much better. I’m going back to see my quacky podiatrist in two weeks to discuss other courses of action, but it may be high time to find another doctor. Watch this space, if you care.

Best Purchase of Summer 2023
Back in June, we were invited to my nephew’s wedding, which was to be held in late August in Northern California. It was a “black-tie optional” event, so I used that as an excuse to go buy myself a proper black suit, hoping it would help me feel like more of a functioning adult. In it, I kid myself that I look like a reservoir dog, when the truth of the matter is probably closer to a middle-aged head waiter.

Best Meal of Summer 2023
Never mind just the summer, the best meal of my entire life took place in late June at a tiny eatery in Rome called Collene Emiliane. My main course was a dish simply called "Roast-Beef con purea,” which is basically just roast beef with mashed potatoes. I realize how banal that sounds, but it genuinely was the most lovingly prepared, succulent and immeasurably tasty meal I’ve ever consumed.

Best Concert of Summer 2023
Oliver and I saw some great shows, in the late Spring and earlier Summer, notably Depeche Mode back in April and then the Sisters of Mercy in Brooklyn in June. Both of those were great fun, but I’d have to say the best evening of live music I experienced this summer was only a few weeks back, seeing Calexico perform the entirety of their 2003 album, Feast of Wire at (le) Poisson Rouge over on Bleecker Street. They’re an amazing band, and I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Best Book You Read During Summer 2023
I read some fun stuff this summer, including “Heady Daze,” the second installment in the sprawling autobiographical series by Wayne Hussey of The Mission. I also enjoyed "World Travel," a collection of essays from the late Anthony Bourdain, “I Die Every Time I Hear the Sound” by Mike Doughty, “Nothin’ But a Good Time” by Tom Beaujour & Richard Bienstock,” as well as “Sweet Dreams: The Story of the New Romantics” by Dylan Jones. But, far and away, the best book I paged through this summer was “This Must Be the Place: Music, Community and Vanished Spaces in New York City” by Jesse Rifkin. I honestly cannot recommend it highly enough. Rifkin’s attention to chronological detail, musical minutia and geographical accuracy across multiple genres and local music scenes - from bongo-bangin’ folkies through Brooklynite hipster kids and the myriad musical tribes between them — is genuinely astonishing, and handled with a reverence that is inherently readable and illuminating. Even if you’re not familiar with the particulars in question, it’s an endlessly engaging journey. A MUST-READ book, full stop.

Best Movie of Summer 2023
I saw neither “Barbie” nor “Oppenheimer,” and feel not a jot of regret. I can’t actually think of a film I went to (as in, in a movie theatre) this summer, but I did quite enjoy “Squaring the Circle,” the new documentary about the album-cover design team of Hipgnosis. I also quite enjoyed “Living” with Bill Nighy, which was lovely.

Best Gift You Received of Summer 2023
For father’s day, my son gave me a fetching Love & Rockets t-shirt (his latest favorite band).

Biggest Loss of Summer 2023
On a personal level, I actually went to three funerals, this summer, which seemed a bit out of the ordinary. Mercifully, no one in my immediate circle passed away, but these were extended family members (the siblings, fathers and godparents of in-laws, etc.), and I attended to show my support for those loved ones who suffered those losses. Beyond that, I have to say that the losses of both Pee Wee Herman and Sinead O’Connor were both painfully palpable.

Song That Sums Up the Summer of Summer 2023
I don’t know if there’s truly a single song that wraps it all up, for me, but if pressed, I’d say my favorite album of Summer 2023 would be Negative Stars by local noise-rock trio, Skull Practitioners. Their vocals need a bit of work, but they mine a compelling terrain that is reminiscent of several so-called “pigfuck” bands while also somehow calling to mind the noodley prog nuttsness of early King Crimson. On a song-level, though, being that our fleeting time out in Quogue, this summer, was largely scored by the strikingly limited playlist of Sirius XM’s “Yacht Rock Radio,” I’d probably have to cite “Diamond Girl” by Seals & Crofts as the tune that might continue to remind me of this summer. I also listened to the title track of Robyn Hitchcock's Shufflemania quite a bit. 

Happiest Memory of Summer 2023
While we bicker inanely like every other family, the fact that my wife and I had the pleasure of spending so much time with both of our kids, this summer, brought me much joy. We only packed our daughter back off to Scotland this past Friday. Summer is thus officially done and dusted, as far as I’m concerned.

Saddest Memory of Summer 2023
Learning of the sudden and awful fate of Jesse Malin after suffering a spinal stroke really took the wind out of my sails. During the early weeks of the COVID 19 pandemic, when uncertainty held sway, my department at work — all sequestered in our respective homes and duly “sheltering in place” — was tasked with conceiving new content to produce to keep our audience (our creative community of affiliated songwriters, composers and publishers) informed. I pitched a series of short Q&A’s with certain songwriters to see how they were handling the challenges of this new strange era. I got the green light, and started firing off emails to various names. To my very great joy, the very first guy that got back to me was Jesse Malin, who was entirely game. I lobbed a handful of questions over and within a day, he hit me back with some great, thoughtful and inspiring responses. At this risk of lapsing into fanboy hyperbole, Jesse has always been the mover, the shaker and the tip of the spear. A true believer in the music of New York City, he makes things happen, and has kept the spirit of Punk Rock alive in a downtown Manhattan riddled by gentrification. He’s also a tireless advocate for giving BACK, and has been involved in more charitable initiatives than I can count. He’s truly one of the good guys. May he swiftly recover from this latest setback.

Scariest Moment of Summer 2023
Apart from some testy moments when looking at my dwindling bank account, I’m relieved to say that Summer 2023 didn’t come with a great deal of sudden scares.

Word That Best Describes of Summer 2023
Over.

The Probably Very Brief Return of … “News From Home”

I first wrote about it here in 2012, then it was pulled off YouTube. It then re-appeared on YouTube in 2015, and I posted about it again, but then was pulled down. It made another appearance in 2021, which I wrote about, before being yanked a third time.

I’m talking, of course, about the film “News From Home” by Belgian director Chantal Akerman. If you’ve not seen it and are too lazy to go back and click on those links above, here’s a very brief synopsis:

Letters from Chantal Akerman’s mother are read over a series of elegantly composed shots of 1976 New York, where our (unseen) filmmaker and protagonist has relocated. Akerman’s unforgettable time capsule of the city is also a gorgeous meditation on urban alienation and personal and familial disconnection.

It’s slow …. very slow … but it’s worth your time.

I doubt it’ll be up again for long, so watch it sooner than later.

El Gringo Está Realmente Muerto

Back in 2007, I wrote what was soon to be a somewhat typically (for me) nostalgia-fueled post about how the westerly-facing façade on the northeasterly side of St. Marks Place near Third Avenue that previously hosted the massive portrait of “Gringo” (i.e. the somewhat notorious local punky junkie named John Spacely) now just sported a plain, white field with the word “Muerte” on it. I interpreted that cryptic Spanish as emblematic of the direction the neighborhood’s character was headed. In ensuing years, no further artwork graced that wall, beyond another morbid legend that read “RIPSTMARKS.” Beyond that, it just got grimmer.

By most accounts (including not one, but two independent feature films -- one of which inspiring director Lech Kowalski to commission that massive mural), the actual subject, John Spacely, was not really that admirable a character. Essentially a colorful-albeit-troubled, substance-abusing actor, scenester, hustler and heroin dealer, John Spacely may have looked cool, but he arguably exemplified the very least salubrious aspects of the East Village, and many understandably resented that grand, artfully inescapable glorification. By the turn of the millennium, that resentment finally convinced the building’s landlord to paint over it. Meanwhile, Michael Jackson’s equally massive mural on nearby East 11th remains undisturbed, despite multiple allegations of child molestation, but I suppose that’s a post for another day.

In any case, when I first spied the “Gringo” mural in the early `80s, I had no idea who John Spacely was. To my impressionable mind, it was just a striking bit of artwork that completely captured the tenor of the times and vibe of the neighborhood. Contrary to my laboriously pedantic nature, I wasn’t particularly bothered by the unseemly specifics of its origins. It just seemed like the gateway to coolsville.

Years passed and the neighborhood kept changing. Around 1993, they erected Cooper Union’s first dormitory on the same strip, just north of where the Continental, St. Marks Pizza and the corner Optimo used to stand. As discussed here, commissioned as a freelance reporter by a colleague from LIFE Magazine, I wrote an article profiling the new dorm for Cooper Union’s alumni magazine and remember walking around the neighborhood interviewing locals about it. I vividly remember chatting with a Mohican kid in a vintage Germs t-shirt who ominously foretold the dull future of St. Marks Place. “I’m sure that’s just the beginning of the end,” he predicted. He wasn’t wrong. Seven years later, “Gringo” was whitewashed.

In 2019, meanwhile, news broke that an eight-story, mixed-use office building was to be built on the corner of St. Marks at Third Avenue, displacing all the businesses between the Cooper Union dorm and the corner, including the sites listed above and a particularly tragic McDonalds. Presumably, the pandemic slowed the process down, and the construction site sat in a state of eroding dormancy for a very long time.

To this day, even though the “Gringo” mural has been gone for about 23 years, my eyes still kind of expect to see it when I look to the east from Astor Place. Not to get too histrionic, but it’s much like how my eyes used to search for the two towers of the World Trade Center in the years after the events of September 11th. These were things that made a lasting impression that one didn’t expect to just vanish.

This week, however, I spotted something new that kind of took me by surprise (although it shouldn’t have). Taking an easterly route to my office, on Monday, I swung toward the Bowery and looked to my left and did sort of a double take. Not only was “Gringo” no longer there (duh!), but in the lot slated for the new office building, there now grew tall, infrastructural spires.

Dormant no longer, that building is definitely coming, and St. Marks will change even further.

 

Pee Wee...

I really didn't expect this one. Rest In Peace, sir.  This is still one of my all time favorites.