Flaming Pablum

Friday Vibes

Courtesy of Lydia Lunch.

Back to Great Gildersleeves

I’ve mentioned the Bowery rock club, Great Gildersleeves, here a few times, notably here, here and here. For those familiar with the area, it was nestled about a block south of the bar Phebe’s, just a block or so north of the 315 Bowery (i.e. CBGB). I want to say there was also a short-lived venture called The Reggae Lounge on the corner between those points (where the restaurant Primi is today, next to Bowery Electric), but don’t quote me on that.

Of course, don’t go looking for any of those spots now. Well, Phebe’s is still there, but it looks/feels/smells way different from the way it used to. It’s basically now just another generic sport bar where corporate softball teams go to eat wings.

In any case, I should point out that I never made it to Great Gildersleeves. I was aware of it, but didn’t attend any shows there, alas. It was evidently a hotbed for early hardcore bands like DOA, The Misfits, Minor Threat, Suicidal Tendencies, Even Worse, Husker Du, SSD, Reagan Youth, the Circle Jerks and the pre-Hip-Hop Beastie Boys. Public Image Ltd., as discussed in this post, also played a gig there. Outside of hardcore bands, it also played host to the Replacements, Elvis Costello and Anthrax. Still, for whatever reason, I never made it.

Not to be outdone by CBGB’s Live At CBGB’s – The Home of Underground Rock compilation, there was The Best of Great Gildersleeves featuring a slew of bands I’ve never heard of like The Privates, The Secrets, The Favorites, The Fanz and more.

Anyway, the club closed for whatever reason. To walk by the spot now, you’d never know it played host to all this stuff. But I happened upon this pic, and thought I’d share it.

Any memories of the place? Weigh in.

Astor Disaster

©RichAllen

Above is a photograph by Rich Allen, whose work you might remember from this post.

This is, obviously, a shot of Astor Place (with "The Alamo," otherwise colloquially referred to as "the Cube") in the foreground. This was taken in 1973.

A friend of mine recently pointed out that if you stood in that very spot and spun around here in 2020, you would see the following...

A Chase Bank, a Wallgreens, a Starbucks, a KMart and a CVS.

`Twas not always thus. 

 

Rest In Peace, Terry Jones

Heartbroken by this morning’s news about the passing of Terry Jones.

Put simply, Monty Python, to me, were as crucial, informative and life-affirming as the Sex Pistols.

No one comes close to their genius.

Pour one out for the great man. 

Solo in SoHo

Snapped this morning en route to work. An illusion, of course, but it fleetingly felt like I was the only person for miles around.

 

B-Boys in the Batcave

Someone posted this flyer on the Ritz-centric Facebook group, The Ritz NYC. Obviously, I’ve spoken about both my love for the Ritz and the Rock Hotel series here several times before (see here and here, just as two examples). This is a cool flyer in that it showcases a slew of my favorite bands, and I’m guessing that this dates back to 1988, and I believe I was at that Dead Boys reunion show. Those were never to be missed.

In any case, the thing that really caught my eye here, though, is at the bottom – look at the January 7th show:

Did that really happen? Did Alien Sex Fiend and Schooly D share the same bill? I have seen no further evidence of this having occurred.

Alien Sex Fiend, for those who may be unfamiliar, are a storied British goth band from the Batcave scene who largely ditched the stylish finesse of Bauhaus and Siouxsie in favor of a more luridly camp, bawdy and not-just-a-little ridiculous aesthetic that owed more to the Cramps and Alice Cooper. I’ve written about them here before, but their sophomore album Acid Bath is a goddamn classic. Seek it out.

Schooly D, conversely, is an old school, hardcore rapper of some renown, notable for such pugnacious tracks as “Smoke Some Kill,” “I Don’t Like Rock & Roll” and, of course, “Mr. Big Dick.” Not sure what he’s been up to since then, although he did famously record the theme song to the “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” back in the 2000’s.

In any case, the notion of Alien Sex Fiend and Schooly D sharing the same bill is simply too bizarre to fathom. That said, if you listen to “Attack #2” by Alien Sex Fiend off the afore-cited Acid Bath (below), they did include a sample recording of the call letters of Disco 92, WKTU, which – in the early-to-mid 80’s, at least – would have been the only major radio station bold enough to be playing Schooly D’s records, so maybe there was a shared affinity? I have a hard time picturing Schooly D being down with Nik Fiend, but stranger things have surely happened.

Could this show have inspired the great, star-crossed goth/hip-hop alliance that spawned the Sisters of Mercy/Public Enemy co-billing a decade later?

Any intel to share?

Second Coming on Sullivan

Earlier this week, someone posted an image by one Ernst Haas from 1962 of a cool cat sitting on the hood of a vintage car. While a striking photo by any standard, I immediately gravitated to it because of a bit of location-specific signage in the background, that being Googie’s Bar on Sullvian Street. While never a particular favorite of mine, I did indeed darken the doors of Googie’s on more than a couple of occasions. I had no idea it had been around since (at least) 1962. This all said, the only reason I really liked Googie’s was because it was directly next door to Second Coming Records.

Now, having been updating this silly blog since … god help me … 2005, I have devoted an inordinate amount of bandwidth to documenting the lost record and compact disc shops of Manhattan. I have scoured ever corner of the internet looking for photographic and/or video evidence of several such businesses that have mostly long since gone the way of the wooly mammoth. From Freebeing to 99 Records to Subterranean Records to Venus Records to It’s Only Rock N’ Roll to Rocks In Your Head to Footlights to Lunch For Your Ears and virtually all points in between, I have, for the most part, managed to find visual evidence of many of my old favorites, rounded up in sprawling photo-driven posts like this one. Then, of course, there have been ventures like Mondo Kim’s, Sounds and, yea verily, Bleecker Bob’s that have closed up shop more recently. Whenever possible, if I find a photo that I’ve never seen of these places, I usually go out of my way to share it here.

But after almost fifteen years of this stuff, I cannot say I still spend that much time searching. Here in 2020, I sort of feel like any remaining pictures of these places would have surfaced by now. I don’t want to say that the well is dry, in that capacity, but it’s pretty rare that I find anything new, these days.

Until today, that is.

Inspired by that Haas photo up top – and having just walked down this very street on my walk to work, this morning – I started sifting around. I don’t recall what configuration of terms I used but up popped the photo below. Allegedly uploaded eight months ago and originating from a book about cats of all things, herewith a super-rare shot of the interior of Second Coming Records on Sullivan Street, with …. I guess… Vladimir the Cat pictured front and center.

I love this picture in that it totally captures what it was like to be inside that cramped little shop. It also showcases another defining feature of Second Coming, that being the ceiling covered in posters. Unlike Sounds across town on St. Marks Place, you could actually buy the posters on the ceiling, and I duly outfitted my college dorm-room walls accordingly with treasures procured from the ceiling of Second Coming.

Given key promo posters pictured behind little Vladimir of Mothers Milk by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Mind Bomb by The The, I’m going to suggest this photo was taken somewhere between 1989 and 1990. The circular neon sign in the very back (next to Elvis Costello) hung originally in the window of the shop (see below), but would move again as the shop expanded, later hung above the doorway between the two storefronts, where it remained for some time even after the shope closed, only to sadly vanish one day.

As detailed elsewhere, later during its tenure at 235 Sullivan Street, Second Coming became a hotbed of bootleg live recordings. Towards the front of the northernly wing on the right had side, they had a crucial case of cassettes. If memory serves, for about six or seven bucks a pop, you could procure any number of live recordings by likely artists like The Cure, The Sisters of Mercy, R.E.M., Siouxsie & the Banshees or U2. That may sound entirely quaint, now, but it was a bit of a risky racket, at the time – one that eventually led to the store getting in a significant amount of trouble, as reported here.

I can’t remember if it was because of this that the store eventually shut its doors, but shut they did, breaking my heart in the process. Since Second Coming split, the spaces it formerly occupied have been various ventures like a Mexican joint, a Thai bistro, a tattoo parlor and sushi parlor.

In the process of writing this, I found another new shot, this of the old storefront. Below that, I’m resurfacing the other old pics of it.

It’s 2020, and I still miss Second Coming Records. I imagine I always will.

 

Exhuming The Blues

I don't often share stuff I write for the office here, but I so enjoyed working on this one particular story, that I thought I'd post it here, too.

Even if you're not a fan of the blues, the story of how the recording of the Ann Arbor Blues Festival in 1969 came about is pretty remarkable.

If you're interested, do click here to read it. Thanks! 

...And A Happy New Year!

Have a great one. Gabba Gabba. 

2019 is Dead

Well, it's that time of year again. Sure, we have two whole days left, but for all intents and purposes, 2019 is over. As such, let's go ahead and dust off this old thing. Away we go...

What did you do in 2019 that you'd never done before?

I’m really wracking my brain, but I’m not coming up with anything.

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

Nope, as discussed here, I gave up my umpteenth attempt at a Dry January in 2019 after only ten days, citing any number of arguably ridiculous and weak-willed rationalizations for doing so, and here we are again. This year, however, there is a new variable.

Shortly after this past Thanksgiving, I scheduled a long-overdue appointment with my primary care physician. I’d been neglecting to take care of certain things, investigating a few others and I’d been recently perplexed by the way in which my left foot was seemingly no longer feeling the way it used to. There was no pain involved, but it seemed to fill my shoe in way that felt simply … different. I can only describe it as being akin to the sensation wherein your sock is sort of bunched-up, and you feel an excess of crowding at the toe. Of course, I immediately assumed I had gout, given my affinity for beer. Or, more correctly, given my foundation in Catholic guilt, I immediately felt I deserved gout. In any case, preoccupied with this assumption, I figured it was prudent to go have it checked out.

As it turned out, I do not have gout. I’m told that if I did indeed have gout, I’d bloody well know it, as the pain involved is said to rival similarly acute maladies like Kidney Stones (which I have experienced). This all said, my doctor couldn’t really explain my weird foot/toe problem, which was a bit frustrating.

On the plus side, I got a reasonably clean bill of health — no egregious deviations from normal in most capacities. On the minus side, he did suggest my blood pressure was a bit high, going on to suggest that a sharp curtailing of alcohol would invariably do me some good. So, while not quite “doctor’s orders,” I am taking that to heart, so to speak, and endeavoring to once again swear off the suds until I go back and see my medicine man for a follow-up visit in …. dear lord …. late February.

Mind you … it’s not January YET!

Watch this space.

Did anyone close to you give birth?

Not just yet, but one of my sisters-in-law is preggers and due in February.

Did anyone close to you die?

Mercifully, no one in my immediate family left us this year, although the mother of a dear friend of mine did, which was and remains quite upsetting.

What countries did you visit?

As documented here, the we spent a glorious five or six days in Paris this year, which I highly recommend.

What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019?

A different president.

What date from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory?

Don’t know that there was a single, isolated date of significance, but last week, just a day before Christmas, we learned that our son was accepted, “early decision,” at the high school of his choice. We are very proud.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

While I’m exceptionally proud of what my children have accomplished, I don’t think I particularly excelled in any specific capacity in 2019. I'm just trying to adopt, adapt and improve, as they say.

What was your biggest failure?

Too many options to choose from.

Did you suffer illness or injury?

No illnesses that I’m immediately aware of, but I did manage to lacerate my own tongue once or twice (as detailed here).

What was the best thing you bought?

Probably the flight tickets to Paris back in early October. Beyond that, I bought my son a guitar for Christmas, which he’d asked for upon returning from summer camp. I’m all for it. We’ll see how it goes. Watch this space.

Whose behavior merited celebration?

Once again, I’d cite my children. While, yes, both now in their teenaged years — and all the things that said age entails — they both take their schoolwork very seriously and routinely earn high marks on their respective report cards. Admittedly, there is now much more eye-rolling and attitudinal pushback than ever before, but I cannot complain, and remain very proud of both of them.

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Pretty much the entirety of the Republican party and everyone who still slavishly supports the Trump Administration, regardless of the growing glacier of damning evidence of its unprecedented corruption.

What did you get really, really excited about?

I got to see Killing Joke three more goddamn times, this year, which was quite unexpected, given the lengths I had to go to to see their 40th Anniversary tour in 2018.

Where did most of your money go?

Renovating the kids’ room, the Paris trip and the looming reality of paying two tuitions for my budding high schoolers.

What song will always remind you of 2019?

I hate to say it, but if there is a single song that reminds of 2019, it’s invariably one by someone like Lizzo. There were several songs I was fired up about this year (see list here), but I can’t name one that singularly screams “2019” to me.

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

I wonder if I suffer from a bit of that seasonal melancholy, as I’m somewhat inexplicably blue quite often, these days. By the same token, that might also have something to do with how speedily my children are growing and how old I’m feeling.

Thinner or fatter?

I have it on sound authority that I have actually lost weight, although I couldn’t even begin to tell you how or why that is the case.

Richer or poorer?

Trying to live and work in Manhattan while simultaneously trying to feed, clothe and educate two children leaves one feeling always poorer.

What do you wish you'd done more of?

Earning. Paying closer attention to certain things.

What do you wish you'd done less of?

Drinking beer on my couch. Shirking various responsibilities. Procrastinating. Sounding off unsolicitedly about stupid shit. 

How did you spend Christmas?

Out at my Mom’s place in Quogue.

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

No clue.

Did you fall in love in 2019?

Already very much in love.

How many one night stands in this last year?

Zero. I remain happily married.

What was your favorite TV program?

I quite enjoyed “Succession,” I must say.

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

There’s a certain accusation persistently thrown around by Trump and his slackjawed supporters that Liberal Democrats are driven by a judgement-impairing hatred for Trump. Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi famously cited her own Catholic upbringing upon snapping at a reporter for suggesting same, claiming that her faith prevents her from harboring any hatred for anyone. That’s lovely and all, but being that I don’t hold any public office, and, despite also being raised a Catholic like Speaker Pelosi, am largely unencumbered by feelings of obligation to any religious dogma, I feel absolutely ZERO regrets about firmly stating that I genuinely HATE Donald Trump and his supporters with every fibre of my being. I’m not shy about it. I’m not ashamed about it. I think it’s healthy and, frankly, natural to express it. I won’t pretend otherwise.

What was the best book you read?

While I enjoyed “More Fun in The New World” by Tom DeSavia & John Doe and had higher hopes for Debbie Harry’s memoir, “Face It,” I have to say the book I probably got the biggest kick out of reading this year was my re-visitation of “The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories” by H.P. Lovecraft while dropping Oliver off at camp in location-specific Vermont this summer.

What was your greatest musical discovery?

Last year was a banner year in that I discovered the one-two punch of rock majesty in the form of Daughters and IDLES. 2019 didn’t bring as much fruit in that department, although I was quite enthused about the band John (shit name notwithstanding) and was happy to acquaint myself with 2013-era Nine Inch Nails, who I’d unwittingly slept on.

What did you want and get?

The long overdue impeachment of Trump.

What did you want and not get?

The long overdue dismantling of Trump’s Administration, his ouster from office, his indictment, his conviction and his imprisonment.

What were your favorite films of this year?

As someone who has always harbored a fascination for the story of the Manson Family, I have to say that I was quite into Quentin Tarantino’s “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood."

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

I turned 52, and spent it strolling the lovely byways of the Marais in Paris with my family. Again, highly recommended.

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

For Robert Mueller to have more effectively and emphatically done his job.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019?

Somewhere between “Is this inappropriate for a man my age?” and “Would one of the Stranglers have worn this?"

What kept you sane?

The necessity to provide for my family.

What celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

None really spring to mind, I have to say.

What political issue stirred you the most?

Where does one begin?

Who did you miss?

Ric Ocasek, Daniel Johnston, Ranking Roger, Keith Flint, Steven Jameson, Vaughan Oliver and, most of all, Mark Hollis.

Who was the best new person you met?

Some new colleagues at work.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019

I don’t know if he made the phrase up, but a writer named Richard Carlson published a book in 1997 called “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff … And It’s All Small Stuff.” That’s pithy and clever and generically reassuring and all, but it’s also a load of bullshit. I’m not suggesting that you should frantically preoccupy yourself with all manner of daily minutia to the point of distraction, but I don’t think it’s at all prudent to tune out and skip the required reading in favor of the Cliff’s Notes either. By all means, keep life in perspective and prioritize accordingly, but pay fucking attention to the details, because therein is where you’re probably getting fucked or about to unwittingly fuck yourself. At two pivotal points in 2019, there were instances when had I just been paying a wee bit more attention, I might have saved myself a substantial boatload of trouble. In both cases, things worked themselves out, but in neither instance were those outcomes guaranteed. Before you hit send, re-read that e-mail. Keep your bankbooks in order. Don’t just take their word for it. Study your monthly statements. Follow up and follow through. Send prompt thank-you cards. And as the Ice Cube once sagely rapped, check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Song lyric that sums up 2019

It’s February
The world is wearing shorts
The world is wearing its heart on its sleeve
There’s bad news to report
But the president can’t read

- “The President Can’t Read” by Amy Rigby