Flaming Pablum

Pee Wee...

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

Remembering The Rickster

Regular readers may recognize the name Ricky Powell, who I’ve invoked several times here, over the years (notary here, here, here, here, here and this post, wherein the man himself chimed in on the comments). In Downtown NYC circles, he was a known quantity as a photographer, graffiti tagger, personality, and erstwhile comrade of the fledgling Beastie Boys. That latter association probably provided him with the most renown, but he was very much an established figure in his own right.

In any case, Ricky sadly passed away in 2021. Shortly after his death, Showtime released a documentary on the man titled “The Individualist.” Being that I don’t subscribe to that service, I was unable to ever see it.

Until now….

A regular reader named Crawford kindly wrote in …. with a link.

Enjoy it while it’s up. Thanks, Crawford! 

Kiss on "The Midnight Special" in `75

Like so many other ponderously pretentious posts I put up here, I originally started this entry prefacing the video below with a needlessly laborious, multi-paragraph re-telling of the first time I’d ever seen a picture of Kiss and how that completely transfixed me and blah blah blah. Who cares? You shouldn’t.

The bottom line is this: Just like their make-up, it was black & white: either you immediately dug Kiss when you first encountered them, or you didn’t. Those who didn’t fucking hated them then and hate them still. Those who did, like myself, loved them and have invariably forgiven the band’s myriad lapses in taste, judgement and decorum, over the years, as… well … as the saying goes, you never forget your first kiss.

In any case, the clip below was posted on YouTube just a couple of days ago, and if you ever were a fan, it’s required viewing. Prior to the bigger-budgeted bloat and Ringling Brothers-worthy ridiculousness of later eras, this finds the band in leaner, sleazier mode than their more family-friendly incarnations.

Playing “She,” a somewhat lumpenly lusty exercise from their third album, Dressed to Kill, Kiss dutifully gives “The Midnight Special” their whole shtick, here, complete with some tragic choreography and needless preening. That all said, when this was taped, the band was still a loose, hungry outfit, and they were indeed all committed to the cause – from the three-part harmonies in the verses (who knew?) to Peter Criss’ beefy drums fills. As a commenter on Facebook noted, it’s all a cartoon until Ace Frehley steps up and takes over … then it gets real.

When this first aired in November of 1975, it would have been way past my bedtime, being that I would only have been about eight years old, at the time. But I was already onboard. That all said, I’m still not going to their final show.

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

Inevitable End-of-Year Needless & Meaningless Music-Ranking Thingy for 2022

I wasn’t going to do a “best music of 2022” post, originally, as, frankly, I don’t think it was really a banner year (I speak only for myself and my own tastes and perceptions), but my son Oliver got involved and his enthusiasm bowled me over, so we came up with some official categories. If your favorite stuff isn’t cited, I’m sorry — leave a comment as to what we missed out on, in your opinion. 

 

Favorite New Song of the Year

I’m going to go with a truly strange toss-up, here, dividing the title between “Total,” a track off of Killing Joke’s 2022 EP, Lord of Chaos, because … well, it’s new Killing Joke, isn’t it, and that’s always a good thing.  My other favorite new song is a truly unlikely one, for me. A couple of weeks back, I went with my next-door neighbor David to check out the WFUV Holiday Cheer Benefit at the Beacon Theater, ostensibly to see the headliners, Spoon. Spoon were great, but one of their opening acts was a band called Lucius, featuring two ladies whose soaring harmonies — sort of a folky/country vibe, although their albums are a little more modern/dancey — filled up that massive room to stirring effect, and I was quite struck by it. This was, I believe, the penultimate song of their short set, and it really put the hook in me. I find the “piano version” more indicative of the rendition I heard that night. Don’t mind me … I’m just losing my edge. 

 

Favorite New Album of the Year

Been saying this for quite a while, but the debut long-player by the Art Gray Noizz Quintet (up top) handily claims this title, although I feel like I’m cheating, a bit, as their live album from last year pretty much featured most of the same material. Still, the studio versions are absolutely fucking ace, and the tactile artifact (available on LP and via Bandcamp, sadly not on CD, as yet) is a splendid object to behold. 

 

 

Favorite Concert You Attended

Live music came roaring back, for me, in 2022. Off the top of my head, I saw Lydia Lunch’s Retrovirus and the Art Gray Noizz Quintet (them again) at DROM in the East Village in February. I saw Henry Rollins do his spoken-word shtick at Warsaw (if that counts) in March. In May, I took Oliver to his first proper concert, that being DEVO at Pier 17. I’d gotten Oliver tickets to see Bauhaus in August, as well, but they cancelled (again) when Peter Murphy had to go to rehab. As a consolation prize of sorts, I took Oliver to see the Violent Femmes at City Winery, which is a bit like seeing a band at a Christmas-office-party venue — it was a great show, though. Beyond that, I saw LCD Soundsystem at Brooklyn Steel, and they were great, but crazy goddamn louder than I’d have ever expected. 

 

All of these shows were really enjoyable, but just seeing Oliver thrill to his first show — the DEVO one — definitely seals the deal, for me. 

 

 

Favorite Re-Issue of the Year

In terms of re-issues that were officially released in 2022, I’d have to say that the 40th Anniversary of the Virgin Prunes’ …If I Die, I Die gets my vote. I would otherwise cite the re-release of Chronic Town by R.E.M., but it came bereft of any bonus tracks. I mean, it’s still the best thing they ever did (fucking fight me), but I was hoping for just a little bit of an extra or two. The whatever-anniversary edition of Animals by Pink Floyd was pretty nice, too, even if the new cover art is kinda lacking. 

 

 

Favorite Discovery of the Year

I don’t know if “discovery” is the right word, but I was genuinely pleased to learn that Wet Leg and Dry Cleaning — two newish British bands I’d prematurely written-off because of their “indefensibly stupid names” — were both pretty goddamn excellent. See? I can be wrong! 

Band You Wished You Saw in 2022

Well, as bemoaned in this post, my son Oliver was greatly looking forward to seeing Bauhaus, but due to Peter Murphy’s evidently spiraling substance-abuse problem, that show had to be scuttled. Beyond that, I can’t say I feel I missed out on anything super special. I did miss The Cult and both Peter Hook & the Light and New Order when they respectively came through, but I wasn’t about to open a vein about it. 

 

Band/Artist You Want to Go Away

How could it be anyone other than Kanye West? FUCK that guy. 

 

Band You’re Excited to See in 2023

Well, as of right now, I have tickets to go see Depeche Mode at Madison Square Garden with Oliver in May and The Mission (with Theatre of Hate) at Le Poisson Rouge in October (that’s a long way off, of course). I’m trying to finagle a way to get to the Killing Joke show at the Royal Albert Hall in London in March, but that might be tricky … especially considering it’s already sold out. But, we shall see. Lydia Lunch and Retrovirus are playing at TV Eye in Brooklyn some time soon. Might try to go to that. 

 

Album You’re Most Anticipating

No idea, really. I know SWANS have something new in the works. I’m kind of curious to pick up the “super deluxe” re-release of Low-Life by New Order, but I need another “super deluxe” anniversary edition like I need a swift kick in the head. 

 

Musical Trend You Want to Die

Good fucking lord, where do I start? I think the biggest trend that burns my toast, these days, is the penchant for contemporary pop singers/rappers to adopt this sort of affected mush-mouthed baby-talk vocal delivery. It’s pretty rampant, but I think one of the worst practitioners is this guy who calls himself Grandson, and this idiot called Kid Laroi. I think ass-clowns like Post Malone do it, too. It’s the worst shit in the world and no punishment would be too brutal for it, in my humble opinion. 

 

Musicians You'll Miss the Most from 2022

Well, let’s see ... Mark Lanegan, Howie Pyro, Andy Fletcher, DH Peligro, Mimi Parker, Hamish Kilgour, Keith Levene, Wilko Johnson and, most of all, Jet Black. AND NOW FUCKING TERRY HALL. 

 

Favorite Medium on Which to Listen to Music

While I will always appreciate the physical heft and ceremony of vinyl, I'm still in love with compact discs ... as laughably anachronistic as that might seem to you. I have reluctantly taken more interest in the abjectly evil empire of Spotify, more recently, as it's really the major way my kids listen to music, and we've been sharing playlists. I don't honestly believe my 18-year-old daughter listens to the stuff I send her (and, really, if you were an 18-year-old college freshman in 2022, would you give a crap about your father's musical recommendations?), but Oliver's been very enthusiastic, so that's been fun. I'm milking that for all its worth.

 

Favorite Live-Music Venue You Went to 2022: 
Hmmm... let's see. Well, I quite enjoyed being at back DROM at 85 Avenue A in the East Village which, a quadrillion centuries ago, was a metal club called Beowulf. Pier 17 is open-air and summarily spacious, but beers cost $17 a pop, which strikes me as a bit unduly pricey. City Winery was fine but a bit antiseptic and kind of incongruously genteel (while we were enjoying watching Violent Femmes, there were patrons enjoying vintage merlots and plates of pasta primavera in the same room). I mean, it's not like Violent Femmes are Napalm Death, or anything, but the venue is very much not a divey rock club. Brooklyn Steel in Brooklyn (somewhere in the hinterlands between Greenpoint and Williamsburg) remains a great venue, easy-to-navigate and smartly laid out, but kind of a bitch to get to and from (if you're a dyed-in-the-wool Manhattan snob like myself). I think of all the spots I revisited, this year, my favorite is still the stately expanse of Warsaw in Williamsburg, not least for the old-school Polish fare on offer. I've never had a bad time there. 

 

 

Favorite Summer Song of 2022

Opinions seem to be split on this, but I quite enjoyed Gorillaz' new track with Thundercat. 

Favorite Fall Song of 2022

Not a new song by any stretch, but during election season, this was definitely in my head...

Favorite Winter Song of 2022

I'm not sure I'm totally onboard, and I thought the finale of the show was sorta anticlimactic, but I gather this song is having a bit of a moment, and that's cool with me....

Zopa in The Snow

We’re already knee-deep into December, and it still looks like mid-October, outside. That’s not a joke. Right outside my office, there’s a ring of trees still fully outfitted with a rich array of strikingly golden leaves that would otherwise suggest that Halloween and Thanksgiving have yet to transpire. But we know differently.

Personally speaking, despite that strange dichotomy, I’m very much looking forward to a lustrously snowy winter. I look forward to a thick blanket of the white stuff coating these New York City streets sometime soon, but I’m not holding my breath. Beyond it still looking fully autumnal oustside, the thermometer is telling me it’s 55 degrees out. Not exactly a winter wonderland.

Lucky for me, then, that I stumbled upon the video below, “Red Sky” by the band Zopa. The only thing I know about this outfit is that it features actor Michael Imperioli on vocals and guitar. This might sound like heresy to some, but I’ve never watched a full episode of “The Sopranos,” so I really only know Imperioli from Season 2 of “The White Lotus” and from his fleeting cameo in “Goodfellas,” wherein he plays luckless mob barhop Spider who gets maimed and then murdered by Joe Pesci’s Tommy over a botched drink order.

In any case, on top of “Red Sky” being an ample demonstration of Imperioli’s musical abilities, its video – directed by his (wife? sister? daughter?) Victoria Imperioli is a lovely montage of New York City in the show.

Enjoy….

Flaming Pablum vs. Colbert

Apropos of nothing at all, I’m taking the Colbert Questionert.

Here we go…

• Best sandwich? I’m going to say a good bacon, egg & cheese on a roll.

• What's one thing you own that you really should throw out? Jeezus, where do I begin? I still have boxloads of cassettes I should probably part with.

• What is the scariest animal? I am still entirely captivated by the majesty of the Great White Shark. Hard to fathom anything credibly scarier than that.

• Apples or oranges? Well, I’m allergic to apples, so I’m going with oranges.

• Have you ever asked someone for their autograph? The last person whose autograph I asked for was probably Ace Frehley.

• What do you think happens when we die? As much as I love the notion of the cycle starting all over again, I’m sort of inclined to believe that nothing happens. We simply cease to exist.

• Favorite action movie? I’m tempted to cite films like “Apocalypse Now!” and/or “A Clockwork Orange,” but both of those are so much more than simply “action movies.” I’m going to go with “The Road Warrior.”

• Favorite smell? Slow-roasting fresh garlic in extra virgin olive oil.

• Least favorite smell? For whatever reason, I have a horrible reaction to the small of hyacinths (the flower).

• Exercise: worth it? Absolutely, although without becoming a fitness zealot.

• Flat or sparkling? I’m not fussed.

• Most used app on your phone? Probably Instagram.

• You get one song to listen to for the rest of your life: what is it? The notion of only being able to listen to one single song for the rest of one’s life seems like a slow boat to madness, regardless of whatever song it might be. But, ... how about ... "I Can't Give You Anything" by The Ramones. 

• What number am I thinking of? I was told there’d be no math.

• Describe the rest of your life in 5 words? “Focused on what actually matters.”

Pour on the Schmaltz: Midnight Blue at Sammy’s Roumanian Steak House

I’ve mentioned the particular legacy of Sammy's Roumanian Steak House on the Lower East Side a few times here before, notably here, which I wrote upon the sad news of its closing in 2021. As detailed in that post, I first heard about the restaurant probably a good decade before I ever knowingly set foot in the place, and this was entirely thanks to its singular advertisement during virtually every broadcast of “Midnight Blue,” the fabled Manhattan cable-access porn program spearheaded by infamous “Screw” Magazine editor/publisher Al Goldstein that ran from the late `70s and into the mid-`90s, I believe. According to Wikipedia, it ran for almost 30 years, but can now be enjoyed on a DVD series with seven (!!!) volumes. `Cos y’know …. ya need that.

In any case, sandwiched between ads for escort services with names like “Tryst” and “Bel-Aire,” the dependably jaunty commercial for Sammy’s would routinely air on “Midnight Blue,” jarringly off-setting grainy vignettes of `70s-era porn with footage of hirsute patrons tucking into some frankly unappetizing-looking dishes, scored by what I can only imagine is some age-old Roumanian pop song as performed by the in-house entertainment at Sammy’s. If you were ever up late enough to watch “Midnight Blue” (which usually did not happen by accident), the likelihood of you viewing the commercial for Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse during proceedings was greater than the promise of a new day. I don’t know if it was Al Goldstein’s favorite restaurant (which is entirely plausible) or if they were just committed sponsors of the program, but the two ventures were inexorably linked by the partnership.

For YEARS, I’ve searched the `net for the Sammy’s commercial, but always came up empty.

… until today.

Fittingly slotted within a cavalcade of cable-access idiocy from the same era, I happened up the very commercial for Sammy’s I’ve spent the last few paragraphs discussing, and it instantly came rushing back to me. If memory serves, my grammar-school pal Robo (not his real name), who lived upstairs from me, at the time (he was on 12, I was on 7) and I once actually made up suitably prurient lyrics to the commercial’s background song, … which ought to give you a pretty firm indication of our loyal “Midnight Blue” viewing habits. I have a vivid memory of sleeping over at Robo’s apartment one night and us furtively staying up late into the evening, watching Channel J (the program’s notorious home) with the volume turned way down, so as not to wake Robo’s preternaturally oblivious parents. When the Sammy’s commercial came on, as if on cue, we both got up and started bopping around the room, applying our rude new lyrics (none of which I can remember now) and giggling like the little morons we were for the next hour and a half.

As mentioned in that earlier post, years later, I actually patronized Sammy’s a few times. On one notable occasion, David Lee Roth was dining at a nearby table. On another, specifically my friend Rob C’s bachelor party, our group somehow inspired our waitress (whose name was Meredith, if memory serves) to flip us a very emphatic bird on our way out the door. Ahhh…. good times.

Here in 2022, if you walk down Chrystie Street, you will not find Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse anymore. Covid-19 put a stop to that venture, even after they’d mounted an unthinkable refurbishment. “Midnight Blue” is no longer on Manhattan cable television. Al Goldstein passed away in 2013 from renal failure. My poor friend Robo, meanwhile, tragically passed away in the very late `90s in a car accident on his wedding night.

And now … without further ado, I proudly present to you ….. the Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse commercial.

Stop Believin'

Is  #ThrowbackThursday still a thing? Probably not, right? Well, whatever....

I worked for the website of the TODAY Show from the summer of 2010 until, well, the summer of 2014. Ostensibly, it was a good gig, but ultimately, it was never the perfect fit, for me. Suffice to say, my personal predilections and sensibilities were frequently at pointed odds with the overall bent of the endeavor. You may very well have gleaned as much from allusions on this blog, from time to time during that era. I was a sharply square & thorny peg in a bullpen of round holes. That all said, however, I learned quite a bit (albeit not all of it good) and made several very good friends and contacts that I am thankful to maintain to this day. This is a shot from June of 2011, when the organization was saying a fond farewell to longtime anchor, Meredith V. We were tasked with performing some comparatively ornate choreography whilst lip-synching “Don’t Stop Believing” by ye olde Journey for an elaborate “lip-dub.”

My body language in this photo is very telling and prescient. Click on it to enlarge. See if you can find me. I'm the one that looks a bit like I'm about to be executed by a firing squad (something that would pretty much happen a few years later).

Buried Beneath the Bollocks

I feel like there’s more and more Sex Pistols content in my social media feeds, these days. Today makes sense, as it would have been Sid Vicious’ unthinkable 65th birthday, but beyond that, the band has been catapulted back into the headlines over (yet another) bitter feud, that being the one over an entirely needless biopic on the FX channel. Despite being directed by Danny Boyle (he of “Trainspotting” fame) and allegedly based on “Lonely Boy” the memoir of Pistols’ guitarist Steve Jones, “Pistol” is pretty much already dead on arrival due to a number of factors. First and foremost, legendary Pistols frontman John “Rotten” Lydon, patently refused to participate in/abet/endorse the film, and has since gotten venomously litigious about it, to which I say, fair enough. I may still have pointed misgivings about the man’s confusing politics (as addressed here, here and here), but he has my full support on this matter.

Secondly, I think there’s also a bit of fatigue about this particular period of popular culture, and I don’t think the masses otherwise preoccupied with Kanye West, Pete Davidson and BTS really harbor any real fascination for the heyday of British Punk. What once seemed barbarous and shocking has essentially become a tired old, over-rhapsodized chapter of “Dad Rock.”

Beyond that, in the specific case of the Sex Pistols, there’s already been a wealth of documentation about their sneery ascendance and their messy implosion. I mean, just off the top of my head, there was the band’s own abortive film, the Julien Temple-directed “ Great Rock n’ Roll Swindle,” there was “The Punk Rock Movie,” there was Alex Cox’s flawed “Sid & Nancy,” and Julien Temple’s documentary, “The Filth & the Fury.” Not to be outdone, Temple even did a third Pistols move, “There’ll Always Be an England,” which documented an anniversary performance. There have also been numerous books and biographies. Lydon’s written at least three memoirs. The story of the Sex Pistols has been told and re-told too many times already. There was never a need for a biopic.

For my money, however, I’ve always been of the opinion that if you’re genuinely curious about the Sex Pistols, the ONLY thing you ever needed was a copy of Never Mind the Bollocks. Go get that. Listen to it … and get on with your lives.